Anne Working Overtime Ch 16

AWO16. – Turbulence

Carol was crying.

To Anne it was a sight so upsetting that she felt her whole world rocked... and left her trembling all over. It was a completely new situation; possibly the confirmation of some of her worst fears. She found it hard to even imagine that it shouldn't have something to do with her relationship with Jean. The way their differences deepened it was almost bound to break out in open conflict at some point. Anne had witnessed it with deep concern, and had no idea what to do about it. The very idea that the two of them – her most beloved mistresses – would drift apart in enmity and possibly even hatred to each other was just too much to bear. It would be like seeing her parents split up. No... perhaps much worse!

She had grown so used to having the two of them around; two raving beacons - two powerful, passionate and voracious forces in her wonderful life; setting things right with their natural authority, and supporting and encouraging her in her efforts to improve skills and mental aptitudes as a person as well as a service girl. And now that guiding force suddenly looked like it would break down. Or at least change substantially, never to be the same again; right before her very eyes.

How on earth would she be able to live with something like that?

It all started like so many times before. Jean was out of office, and Carol had been spending an hour or so in the demonstration lounge hosting a session with a very promising client, using Sandra as the service girl. The little blonde had shown remarkable progress in the deep-penetration training, and was already making great impressions with her regular clients, although her skills still didn't get even close to those of Anne. Even though Jean had encouraged the use of younger trainees in such demonstrations, Carol preferred the predictability of the more experienced girls.

As usual the action had created a substantial itch in her ever-needy pussy, and she went out to find Anne for a quickie to calm her nerves before the next appointments. She found her in the back- end bathroom, showering and cleaning up after an overnight visit to one of the latest clients.

They didn't even take time to fall into each other's arms before Carol was down on the bed with the skirt around her waist, spreading widely for that sensational mouth, the one and only - capable of sucking her off to a violent orgasm within minutes, no matter what, where or when. She took her pleasure with a frustrated impatience that even surprised Anne... with a stiffness and tension about her that was so different from her usual cat- like softness; the softness that Anne enjoyed so much.

Only at the moment of ecstasy did she become her old self for a moment, cumming sharp and well- defined, holding Anne's head like a vice and twisting brazenly about all over the sheets as she lived through the sensational bliss with elated senses.

It was when Carol finally rose back up and wiped her forehead with a crumpled handkerchief that Anne really noticed the difference. Sitting up like that, she suddenly kind of sank together, letting her hair spill down to cover her face. Then her shoulders started shaking, first almost inconspicuously, then more distinctly until a stunned Anne realized that she was really

crying

. Anne had been in the usual state of bliss which always swept her after a session with one of her favourite mistresses, half lying on the floor in front of the bed, enjoying the unparalleled taste of lady orgasm on her lips. But now she was yanked back to reality with such shocking force that she felt as if she was run down by a twenty-wagon freight train.

She had always seen Jean and Carol almost like goddesses, high up on their pedestals, looking down at their empires of mortal people like herself with a condescension bordering to arrogance - an arrogance they could afford because of their monumental personalities. It was as natural a part of them as the expensive suits they wore. And even though she knew it wasn't quite so, Anne had adjusted her metal image of the two mistresses in that they were assertive enough to take anything – really

anything

- without problems. Just like that; showing even in real life the personal strength and power that she felt so intensely on the emotional level. Like a slave to her mistress.

Now, the wonderful lady looked thoroughly debunked, almost like a lost child; naked in a way. Shockingly stripped of all of the things that made her supreme and illustrious... almost down to someone asking for her pity.

An impossible notion! She could worship her, crawl at her feet, kiss the tip of her shoes and beg to be allowed to drink her very liquid orgasms. But she couldn't feel pity for her. No darn way! That would cause her something like a full mental meltdown; the total demolition of her newfound life perceptions, the world that Carol and Jean had opened up to her. The mere thought was enough to fill her heart with despair.

But now she was here, sitting right in front of Anne - sunk together with her face hidden behind the rich cascade of almost black hair.

Crying like a baby

! And Anne just had to face it – had to deal with it - one way or the other. There was no way around it. But how could she handle it? How to handle something as outrageous as

this

?

Anne picked up one of her convenience napkins with a shaking hand and hurriedly wiped her own face. Then she reluctantly leaned over to carefully put her arm around her mistress' shoulder. Even though it was not totally unexpected, she jumped as the woman slipped over to rest her head against her neck. Her shoulders shook as she let herself completely loose and literarily cried her heart out. Anne held her tight for a long while as all kinds of emotions rushed through her. From extreme disappointment, to rage against Jean, and then everything form existential panic to irrational desires to protest against the entire world.

To Anne's relief, the time it took for Carol to calm down was apparently well worth it. All of a sudden she seemed to come around and lift her head off of Anne's shoulder. Using her hand to sweep her full hair over her head and back to her neck, she gratefully accepted one of Anne's napkins to clean up a bit and blow her nose. Like a little child...

"Thanks Anne... You're an angel." Again a loud sniffle, and a few blinks of the eyelashes to clear her vision. Then a meek smile; "What on earth would I do without you?"

Anne heard this all the time, but she knew that for once it meant more than just an empty saying. All of a sudden she was needed for comforting on an entirely different level. And she was deeply involved in the conflict between Carol and Jean almost before she actually knew what hit her. As she moved closer and kissed the woman's damp cheek she realized that there was no way she would be able to continue her balance between the two women, those energetic poles of overpowering magnetism.

Feeling desolate, the woman continued to pour her heart out; verbally now; all those things about Jean. How they started out as the best of friends. How she noticed that thing she thought of as some kind of jealousy, although quite inconspicuous in the beginning. And how everything escalated into what ended in this more or less open conflict from the very moment Anne entered the scene. Up until now Carol had felt confident about getting to some kind of terms with Jean – no matter how difficult - finding a set of unspoken rules that they could move according to, and then build some kind of mutual trust from there. But during these last few weeks the truth had slowly crept in on her. Not only was it clear to her that things would never improve from Jean's side, but she gradually became aware of her own feelings towards Jean too. She hated her! Straight up! At least that was how she felt about it.

Anne listened quietly, getting more and more upset by the minute. How could a wonderful woman like her very own Jean – her eternal mistress and goddess – be like this? And, even worse, could it be true what Carol told her, now matter how indirect, that it was because of her? More or less all because of her? First of all because she entered the scene and kind of ripped the picture of summer breeze- idyll? Not that she felt she was blamed in any way; on the contrary, she felt with every last nerve of her body that Carol had loved her from the first moment she saw her. And not because of her special skills only. She had assured her a million times, but it was first of all the gut feeling that told Anne that she was honest about it.

"Carol, dear... I know what you need. Why don't you just report sick today, and we go to your house. There you can relax, and we can talk it over more freely than down here. What do you say?"

Carol looked at her with those huge, wet eyes, again looking more like a helpless child than the authoritative mistress she had learned to know and to love. She had, somehow, put herself onto a 'level' that all of a sudden felt almost equal to that of Anne herself. Kind of stepped down among those normal, highly mortal people that Anne considered herself a part of. Even in a dream world like this. Of course it was all just an emotional thing – and had always been - but Anne felt the change in every nerve of her body; like it was a significant –a really major – change in her life; the first time she felt more or less equal to a superior mistress!

So they left, together, leaving a message with Alison at the front desk that Carol felt unwell. Anne went to stay with her the whole day, and even the whole night afterwards, doing her best to nurse her back to her old self again. The need certainly was on the mental level this time - no doubt about that - even though her physical needs were taken care of as well, of course. And as always with a quality and enthusiasm beyond anything that could be expected from any 'normal' service girl.

As Carol made a huge pot of tea, she continued to lay out her feelings to Anne. From what she heard, it was clear to the girl that she was definitely to be blamed herself – at least partly; or... maybe not. Actually she had done exactly what was expected of her. Just that she was too enthusiastic about it! Her keen hunger for pussy in general, and her immediate lust for Carol's voluptuous body especially, made it very easy – exceptionally easy – to follow the program with full focus, devouring the lady with insatiable hunger and drinking her bursting orgasms with blissful abandon. Nobody could expect her to know and understand the edge between the two women; that ominous edge that sharpened drastically as Anne entered the scene with her infamous skills and spellbinding submissive temperament. On the contrary; Anne expected things to be better as she harnessed her skills and dove headlong into submissive audacity. Without seeing, observing or knowing anything else around her, except the delight of the unparalleled match between desire and duty. Yet, the fact that Carol was special from the very first moment she saw her, never sounded the alarm bells with her. Not even when she got to notice the tension between them. She was slightly worried about it, sure enough, but never thought that it had anything to do with her.

And this was exactly what she told Carol between generous mouthfuls of leaking pussy juice as they had calmed down a bit and got down to discuss the matters properly. Probably the most extraordinary serious discussion Anne had ever had. Amazingly, the lady was able to enjoy the girl's expert oral service even in a situation like this; The only difference being that her mind seemed to drift off every now and then, making her loose focus on her partner's expert titillations at times; until Anne would bring her back to attention with some powerful flicks or a full penetration of her amazing tongue.

"So you really think you could love me just as much as Jean?" The lady asked with a slightly hoarse voice as she recovered from a particularly powerful orgasm.

"Mmmmm yes... You were special from the first time I saw you." Anne lifted her head for a moment to smile up at her. "I have to admit I was most fascinated about that awesome butt of yours. You know... the way you wore your skirt at the first sit-in lecture I attended. That completely blew me away!"

Carol smiled with sparkles of satisfaction in her eyes. Then, she drifted off for a few seconds before 'retuning' once again; "And, did you like the concept of face sitting? The way we do it with the special chairs, I mean. Did that appeal to you as much as we hoped it would? Honestly?"

"Oh yes... yes. It did" Anne let the tip of her tongue slip back in between the soft pussy lips and slide deferentially back and forth over the entrance to the vagina. "And that actually always worked best with you!"

Carol sighed in excitement from the frankness of the sweet compliment. "And why is that?"

"I – I really don't know". Then, after thinking for a moment; "It probably has something to do with the shape of your butt again... you know; the almost audacious femininity of it... Of

all

of you, comes to that!"

Anne let her hands slide lovingly along the soft skin of the lady's thighs and down to cup the magnificent globes with elated fingers. Kind of underscoring the point she had just made.

The woman's smile broadened, and Anne immediately recognized the fire in her eyes that indicated that she was slowly coming along to build for another pleasure ride. Then, she drifted away again for a moment before focusing on the youngster nesting between her thighs.

"So you really think that we could build a good love. I mean... a real relationship? Be like partners?"

Anne looked up again, a bit confused; "But how about your family? Your husband? The children? You're married, aren't you?"

Carol was silent for a moment. More dim sparkles, now of apprehension – almost fear – in those heavenly brown eyes. Then she smiled almost languorously; "Well... you know... I was thinking – You know; my husband is working and travelling a lot. And the children are still small..." She held in for a moment. Then it came; "Actually I thought we could have like an affair when he's not there. That pretty much means most of the time, you know." She swallowed. "How's that to you?"

Anne hesitated. What on earth should she say to something like this? As the woman saw her reluctance, she hurriedly added; "You know; we can be together all the time... practically... you and me! Together here in this house. Make love at the pool, in my bedroom, in the lodge up in Wenger, wherever you want; and as much as you want. You know I'll always be ready... Ooohhh... for you!"

Anne's tongue filled her up completely - as only she could do – in a kind of unspoken appreciation of the woman's offer; and also as a way of escaping the call for an immediate response. It was still kind of impossible for her to give a clear answer. Was that really what she wanted? Wasn't it like playing second violin to some man who apparently didn't care much about the lady she adored so much? If that was the way it really was? Come to think of it she never met and never knew anything about this husband of hers. For the obvious reason that she didn't want to know! Just the thought of some man invading the territory she worshipped like a holy shrine, was almost intolerable to her.

No, she didn't even want to think about it! She wanted to push such decisions as far away as possible, at least for now. She focused on worshipping the temple of passion to shuddering ecstasy right away, starting her slow, rhythmic series of full penetrations the way she knew her lover liked it most.

In just a few minutes she had her lady's pubic bone labouring sturdily against her hard working mouth, forgetting all worries and negative vibrations as she rushed towards another thunderous climax. It hit her with its usual ferocious rage, leaving her screaming wildly as she spurted her elated passion down Anne's most receptive throat; this time with just a limited amount of the pungent part coming along with it.

The emotional unease clearly transformed into a sexual energy stronger than usual even for this lady's libido. On numerous occasions Anne had been explained how the lifestyle itself created a mounting and almost insatiable drive that had made her and the other ladies addicted to the exquisite service provided by their beloved service girls. She stunned even Anne by needing just a short let-down soothing by her love-drenched tongue before she came to trembling life once again, craving her unstinting service more ardently than ever. Normally these kinds of problems –

exactly

these kinds of problems – would be a serious turn- off for any kind of sexual desire. Existential crises and major worries is definitely not the ideal basis for a heart-bursting orgasm! Still, somehow it wasn't a surprise that a woman like Carol could handle it. Obviously a result of this lifestyle- imposed addiction. Who else could do something like it?

Three more times the lady erupted in her mouth as evening turned into night out in the real world. Carol had stopped talking and was lying silent in deep thoughts as Anne gently and very carefully lapped her through the lengthening periods of recovery. As she fell asleep from total exhaustion sometimes in the early morning, Anne lay beside her for a while, just looking at her magnificent features before she drifted off herself. Her desire for the woman's body - and for the joyful passion with which she took her pleasure – was stronger than ever; especially now, as she had rebuilt some of her old strength. But somehow the sting in her heart was there to stay, no matter what. Some fundamental things could never be fully rebuilt. The woman's role as the invulnerable mistress – the queen of queens - was gone... inexorably... forever.

It was a shock that Anne needed some time to absorb. The full meaning of it kind of impacted over the next few days. The strange emptiness inside; the feeling that something very important was missing. Almost as if somebody close to her had passed away. Carol was there, of course, and she continued her work as before. But her whole appearance had changed. It was something in her eyes. Those beautiful, bedazzling eyes. When they met with hers, they had a different glow about them. A kind of warmth - compassion perhaps - a nearness she hadn't noticed before. Or maybe it was there earlier too... just differently; entirely different from what she had learned to know and to love since they first met at that fantastic sit-in lecture up in Mayo.

Yes! Come to think of it; it

was

the same glow as before. The very same one. Anne realized that

she

was the one who had changed. Anne herself. Abruptly! She just experienced the same thing totally differently. All of it. All of her. She didn't see the strong desire any more... the consummating passion that was like a trigger button to her own libido. Or that was what she thought, at least. Because that wasn't actually true either. It was all there, just as strong as before. It was in her eyes, and it definitely was in her body as well. During Jean's absence, they both gradually rebuilt the old Carol by slinking away for short, but extraordinary intense love sessions where Anne would dedicate herself to the pussy worship with a ferocity that almost astonished her. Almost as if they had met for the first time. That magnificently shaped ass, and the way it moved, had the same effect as before, it ignited a fire that could only be put out by their mutual orgasms. No matter how quick. No matter how hidden. A pleasure that kept up a sweet glow in both of them.

But some fundamental things

were

different, and

stayed

different. First of all there was the thing of total bliss. Anne discovered she suddenly disliked that Carol almost always emptied most of her bladder into her mouth as she came. That was a kind of understanding they had reached early on, since it helped her relax and made her orgasms better. Anne never actually enjoyed it, but it literarily drowned in the passion of the submissive service; in the senseless fervour of bringing about the massive eruptions this lady always had. Burster or not. Any sacrifice to increase the intensity of this goddess' pleasure was worth it.

Any

! So now, as it first occurred to her, she just tried to push it away – to forget it. Just drink it the same way she was drinking in the submissive passion of serving her unconditionally at all times. Embrace it with an insatiable throat, instead of fighting it, as she had done from the very first time they were together alone up in Mayo. It worked for a little while, but then she realized that even in that respect their relationship had changed forever, and there was no way to change back again.