As many of my faithful readers are aware, awhile back I arranged for my sister to help my dear friend Becky explore that dark, submissive side of her personality -- the one that haunts many of us, and would cause us to die of embarrassment if anyone ever found out. (If you are reading my work for the first time, the posting is: Becky's Instruction).
While Becky and I were working on the story, I kept finding myself wishing that I too could somehow find the courage to take the step that she had, and dare to surrender complete control to another woman. Now granted (on several occasions in the safety of cyber-space), I had "played the game"; but listening to Becky describe how it felt to be at Deanna's mercy made me realize that my encounters were of a far different nature, and that if I truly wanted to know what it was like, there was only one thing I could do. The only question: would Becky be willing to help?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I arrived at Becky's lake house shortly after noon on a warm Saturday in late September. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, with a few big, white, fluffy clouds drifting lazily by. I got out of my car, and walked slowly along the brick path that lead to the large, front porch. The wooden steps granting access creaked under my weight. The sound of my heels on the pine decking as I walked to the front door seemed to echo across the water. Palms sweating, I rang the bell.
A moment passed. Then another. After what seemed an eternity, Becky came to the door, and stepped out. My eyes darted over her. Her shoulder-length blond hair tinged with gray. The long-sleeve man's shirt with the top three buttons open. The black, leather skirt cut just above her knee. The dark stockings. The ankle high boots with spike heels.
"Right on time." she said.
I stood perfectly still as Becky circled me. Each step she took resounded in my ears.
"Take off your jacket, and give it to me." she said, with a coldness in her voice I had never heard before.
Without hesitation, I removed my blazer, handed it to her and watched her fold it neatly and lay it on the chair beside her.
"Now your skirt."
Like before, without hesitation, I removed my skirt and handed it to her. Like my blazer, she folded it neatly and laid it on the chair.
"Your blouse."
With fingers trembling, I unbuttoned my blouse, took it off and handed it to Becky. She draped it over her arm, then said: "Your bra."
I unhooked the front closure, then eased the straps from my shoulders and allowed them to slip down. Becky held out her hand. I placed my bra in it. "Now your panties."
For some reason, I turned and looked out on the lake. Not too far from shore were two men in a boat fishing. My heart began to pound.
"Don't make me tell you twice."
Hurriedly, I removed my panties and handed them to Becky. "Now your stockings."
With even more speed, I kicked off my heels and removed my stockings. I straightened -- eyes focused on the boat -- and offered them out.
"Does something on the lake interest you?"
"The men in the boat . . ." I said, my voice trailing off.
"Didn't your online sessions with Victoria teach you anything?!"
My mind raced. Instantly, I knew what she meant. "No Mistress. I mean: yes Mistress. I'm sorry, Mistress."
Once more, Becky circled me. She laid my blouse and the rest of my clothing on the chair, then moved behind me. Her right hand reached around me. The heel of her hand pressed into my unshorn mound, while her fingers rested against my pussy lips.
"My, my." she whispered in my ear, "You sure are wet down there. I was going to have you masturbate for me for a while, but I doubt you'd last a full minute."
She removed her hand. "Put your shoes back on."
Almost falling in the attempt, I did as my Mistress instructed.
Her face expressionless, Becky reached into her shirt pocket and took out a pair of alligator-style nipple clamps, that were linked by a heavy gold chain. Without saying a word, she fitted the first clamp in place and turned the set screw until I involuntarily whimpered.
She repeated the process on my other nipple.
"The rules are simple." Mistress Becky began, "You will do exactly as I tell you when I tell you, or you will suffer the consequences.'
A noise on the lake made me turn to see if the fishermen were still oblivious to me, or . . .
"Christina! Would you be happier if I invited them to join us?!"
"No Mistress! Please. No."
"Then I suggest that you put them out of your mind, or that's exactly what I'll do."
"Yes Mistress."
Becky circled me once more. "Masturbate for me! But don't you dare cum!" she commanded.
"Yes Mistress."
I closed my eyes, dropped my right hand down between my legs, and began giving myself a slow finger-fuck. Maybe it was my imagination; maybe not, but as my fingers gave my clit the teasing of its life, I could have sworn that I heard my two nemesis on the lake egging me on.
"Stop!" Mistress Becky commanded.
Without a moment's hesitation, I removed my now-sticky fingers from my pussy, and stood with my arms at my side.
"Lick them clean."
As instructed, I brought my fingers to my lips, extended my tongue, and hungrily lapped up my juices.
"Your admirers have moved off." Mistress Becky said, "I wonder if they enjoyed your show."
I could feel my face flush with embarrassment.
"No matter. Pick up your clothes and come with me."
"Yes Mistress."
Becky opened the door and stepped inside. I followed. She directed me to the center of the room, then sat down in an overstuffed chair and seductively crossed her legs. I couldn't help but stare as she inched the hem of her skirt upward. At fifty-eight, her legs still looked great. I could only hope that mine would look that good in another twelve years.
"Put your clothes on the library table."
"Yes Mistress."
"Christina; does the phrase 'Be careful what you ask for because you might just get it.' mean anything to you?"
"Yes Mistress."
"I'm glad; because I must tell you, before I gave myself over to Deanna, it didn't for me."
Becky raised both eyebrows, and nodded as she spoke, "It does now."
Her message was clear.
"When I was going back to school," Becky said, almost lectured, "my human sexuality class barely touched on the erotic nature of one woman being submissive to another. I'm not sure why, since having a firm understanding of 'control issues' is key, to being a good counselor."
A combination of fear and anticipation welled in me.
"Unless I miss my guess," she continued, "the idea of having to obey my every command or suffer the consequences terrifies you. But here you are. Naked. Ready and willing.
"Put your hands behind your head and interlace your fingers!"
The sudden change in Becky's tone startled me. Without hesitation I did as told. Immediately, I could feel my breasts lift up; my nipples strain against the clamps. Becky rose to her feet and strutted over to me. As before, she circled me.
"Ask me to touch your boobies."
"Please Mistress, touch my . . . boobies."
From behind, Becky's fingertips grazed my hot flesh.
"Beg me to squeeze them." she breathed into my ear.
"Please Mistress, please squeeze my boobies. Please?!"
The mauling was swift in coming. Rough, almost painful.
"Beg me to tighten the clamps!"
"Please Mistress. . ." I heard myself say, "Tighten the nipple clamps. Please?"
A quarter turn to each caused me to yelp in pain.
Becky returned to her chair and struck the same, seductive pose. "Masturbate for me!"
I unclasped my fingers and reached down between my legs and began to finger-fuck myself.
"Mmm. Yesss." Becky hissed, "Now pinch your clit. Hard!"
A moment's hesitation on my part. "Pinch it! Hard!"
