📚 isabelle's faerie Part 3 of 3
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LESBIAN SEX STORIES

Isabelles Faerie Pt 03

Isabelles Faerie Pt 03

by princesspersimmon
20 min read
4.82 (2400 views)
adultfiction

"Ella! You can't take them off!"

Isabelle was whispering sharply, trying not to draw attention as she grabbed Ella's hand to stop her from unbuttoning her jeans. The two of them walked down a busy downtown sidewalk, lined with tourists and local shoppers. They were drawing a few looks, although this was probably because of the faerie Eleanora's striking beauty and blue-tinted skin.

This outing came at the end of Ella's first full week staying with Isabelle. Most of that week had been spent on Isabelle's art practice. The faerie had kept Isabelle working from morning to night on her figure drawings, giving her breaks when she could tell that Isabelle's will was wearing out. She was impressed with Isabelle's stamina, she said, as well as her ability to endure the teasing that Ella had subjected her too in between drawing sessions-- not that Isabelle had much choice in that.

Staring at Ella's nude body for their whole session was hard enough for the still-denied Isabelle. Her desires translated into passionate art pieces, at least. But the "breaks" that Ella gave her in between poses felt like excessive cruelty. Ella would walk over to Isabelle with a great big smile on her face, ignoring her pleas, and slip her hands under Isabelle's clothes. Once she had succumbed and melted into a puddle on the floor (it didn't take long), Ella would whisper praises into Isabelle's ear, and her fingers would find their way between Isabelle's legs. Once she could tell Isabelle was close (and she could always tell, no matter how hard Isabelle repressed her reactions), she would take her wonderful hands away and leave Isabelle whining and squirming. Then it was back to work. Over and over, every day.

Sometimes Ella was out of the apartment, for reasons she wouldn't tell. It was Ella's strict instruction that this time was also to be spent practicing her drawing. A mirror dug from Isabelle's closet was stood up, and Isabelle would use herself as a subject. Her natural impulse was to get distracted from this task, but Ella seemed to have a sense for when she was dilly-dallying. Scrolling on her phone would earn Isabelle some stern words, but when Ella walked in on Isabelle getting passionate with herself over one of her nude drawings of Ella, she had made Isabelle take a cold shower. Ella's sense of mercy had kept this punishment short, but it still left a strong impression on Isabelle.

Going out today was a welcome variation to their routine. Isabelle had been feeling pent up, having only been to the grocery store in her recent memory. It had been a long time since she had been out of the house with anyone else to keep her company.

"You've been practicing so hard, Isabelle," Ella had said, "I believe it's time to for us to find you your beauty and confidence."

The first step, according to Ella, was to find Isabelle some new clothes. When she had suggested the outing, though, Ella had not anticipated that it meant having to dress for the outdoors. This had led them to their present conflict.

"Izzy, come on," the faerie whined, breaking her usually elegant demeanor, "you can't possibly imagine how much it itches! How can your kind possibly bear it?"

"I know pants suck, Ella, but you're not allowed to take them off while we're outside. We'll... get in trouble." She didn't have the time to explain public nudity laws or the risks of street harassment. "Maybe we can find something that you can wear at one of these stores."

"Very well." Ella replied curtly. She followed Isabelle into the doors of a boutique, waddling stiffly to prevent the fabric of her jeans from rubbing against her skin.

A bell on the door jingled, and the store attendant greeted them cheerily.

"Hi ladies! How are we doing today? Oh, I just love your hair!"

"Thank you!" Ella replied with a smile, the grace in her voice contrasting her stilted movements.

The attendant marveled at Ella as she moved around the store. She looked at the faerie with curiosity, the way that Isabelle's parents looked at people who had tattoos, then returned to organizing a rack of clothing. Isabelle had been anxious bringing a supernatural being out in a crowded public area, but the fear seemed to be unfounded.

Ella spotted something in a rack of clothes and dug it out. She held up a large, lace-adorned button-down to Isabelle.

"How about this one?"

"That's cute," Isabelle replied, "But just to be clear you can't wear that instead of pants either."

Ella frowned, and returned to searching. Isabelle trusted her faerie's advice in general (it helped that her brain automatically turned off and obeyed whenever a Ella told her to do something), but she wondered how a creature who didn't understand the concept of modesty would help her select a wardrobe. Then again, maybe her wardrobe could use a different sensibility.

Isabelle was wearing a cotton sweater and jeans; her usual outfit. She had a few dresses that hadn't seen wear in years; some were left ripped or uncleaned in the back of her closet. Every now and then she would feel inspired to embrace a cuter style, and would pick up some new pieces. A dress here, a crop-top there, or some cute shorts. But within a few outings, she'd catch a glimpse of herself reflected in some window, and that image would haunt her like a ghost. Who was she fooling-- everyone could tell she wasn't the kind of girl who wears dresses or cute shorts. So the clothes would be retired to the back of her closet, and maybe see use as a cleaning rag or pajamas if they were lucky.

"Oh, oh, Izzy!" Ella popped out of a rack of clothes that she had been immersed fully inside of.

Isabelle couldn't help but laugh. Ella had found what looked like an extra-long T-shirt, but was apparently a dress. It looked long enough to be worn in public, at least, while the T-shirt Ella had been wearing at home would ride up past Ella's ass if she leaned over. The fabric was thin, a bit light for the chilly season they were in, but Isabelle couldn't say no to the look of sparkly-eyed delight that Ella wore as she held up the dress.

"I think it's perfect for you, Ella."

Isabelle wanted to kiss Ella very badly, as the faerie scampered back into rack of clothes to pull out more colors of the shirt-dress she had found, but wasn't bold enough to display her affection. Besides, Ella seemed to view their kisses only as a motivational tool for Isabelle.

There was a growing pile of dresses in Isabelle's arms as Ella darted in and out of the clothing rack. She was surprised when Ella emerged with a dress that was entirely different from the shirt-dresses she seemed to be stockpiling.

The dress didn't have very much fabric so it was hard to tell the structure. It was backless, with some kind of ribbon or belt that would fasten around the back. The dress portion of it was very short-- likely much too short on Ella's long figure. Isabelle began to blush.

"Yes. Um, I mean, yeah I think you should definitely try on that one..."

Ella met Isabelle's gaze with a smirk.

"Isabelle, have you forgotten why we're here? We're shopping for you! But I'm glad that this piece is to your taste; I think you'll look absolutely magical in it. Come, let's try it on you."

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She took Isabelle's hand and pull her towards the changing room. A wave of warmth rose through Isabelle's body from the spot where their skin was touching. Isabelle could feel Ella's hand squeezing hers, and she found herself trying to measure whether the amount of pressure that Ella applied was an expression of affection, or whether it was just the force required to drag Isabelle with her. Did her fingers gently intertwine hers to tease, or because Ella, like Isabelle, yearned to touch her with as much of her skin as she could?

Before Isabelle could finish puzzling this out, she realized that Ella had brought her all the way into the changing room and shut the door behind them. She was still holding Isabelle's hand, and looking into her eyes with a gentle smile, waiting for Isabelle to come back to reality. She brought Isabelle's hand up to her mouth, and kissed it (the only possible explanation that Isabelle could think of for this action was that Ella thought it was funny when Isabelle smiled like an idiot)

"Come on Izzy, let's get these clothes off of you." Ella whispered, stroking Isabelle's hair out of her eyes.

It seemed like Ella had some sense of modesty after all; Isabelle would have died of embarrassment if the store clerk had heard the way that Ella talked to her. She would have died even more if anyone other than Ella heard the gasp she made when Ella's fingers brushed her face. Ella reached down to the hem of Isabelle's sweater and began to lift it off of her. Nevermind-- Isabelle was dying right now anyways.

With her sweater removed and hung on the changing room's wall, Ella moved behind Isabelle and turned her to look in the mirror. Isabelle tried to turn away, but Ella gently took her chin and directed her gaze back until Isabelle was making excruciating eye contact with herself. Isabelle had neglected to wear a bra; she could see her nipples stiffen as they were touched by the air.

"Ella... I don't know... I--"

Ella pressed a finger to Isabelle's mouth, making her lips warm.

"Isabelle, don't you like the dress I found for you?"

"Y-- yes..."

"So don't you want to wear it for me?"

"Well... I don't know.. I don't really think it'll work on me, Ella..."

"I do," Ella said softly, her mouth so close that her lips grazed Isabelle's ear and her breath tickled her neck, "Are you suggesting that my judgement in the realm of beauty is wrong?"

"Ella..."

"Oh Isabelle..." Ella breathed as she unbuttoned Isabelle's jeans, and began to work them down over her hips. Isabelle squirmed, feeling a chill as her companion disrobed her fully. Ella's hands left a trail of warmth down her legs, causing goosebumps to erupt and the thin hairs on her shins to stand. Ella gently pulled on each of Isabelle's legs in turn, helping her step out of her jeans. Now Isabelle stood in her plain grey underwear, facing herself in the full-body mirror. Ella was wrapped around her gently from behind, one hand on Isabelle's face both to caress and to prevent her from turning away from her reflection. Her other hand traced the contour of Isabelle's body lightly.

Isabelle met Ella's eye in the mirror, and felt her will softening. She was safe in this moment, her body warded against her own criticizing eye by Ella's gaze. Against her self-critical brain's best efforts, she felt herself believing the look of desire on Ella's face. She felt like an object of beauty in this moment.

Ella took the dress off the hanger, and held it open for Isabelle to gingerly step into. Her hands pulled it gently up Isabelle's body. Isabelle watched Ella in the mirror; Ella seemed absorbed in the moment, her gaze lingering on Isabelle's back as the dress settled around her hips. She pulled the front of the dress up to cover Isabelle's chest (her sides and the entirety of her back were left bare), and then grasped Isabelle's wrists lightly to guide them through the short sleeves. As a final touch, Ella grabbed the ribbon that hung from the dress, and made a bow on Isabelle's back. The waist cinched in as she finished the knot.

Isabelle observed her reflection, now wearing the dress that she had originally hoped to see on Ella. Surprisingly, she could stand to look at herself. She couldn't keep a shy smile off her face.

"OK, fine. You're right, Ella. It's a nice dress."

"Hmmm, it certainly is... It looks even nicer than I imagined when I picked it out for you," Ella whispered, and Isabelle blushed at herself in the mirror (seeing her own expression when Ella complimented her made her blush an even deeper red). Ella brushed the hair back off Isabelle's neck with her hand.

"I have something else for you, Isabelle." Ella said, with a tinge of what Isabelle could have mistaken for shyness.

"Alright..." Isabelle breathed, not knowing what was coming.

Isabelle's heart fluttered as Ella reached into a pocket, and took out something that Isabelle couldn't quite see. Then she felt Ella's fingers on her neck again, and felt her wrapping something soft and silken around her like a necklace. The movements on Ella's fingers were intricate and swift, tying and adjusting. There was a mild sensation of tightness when Ella's hands withdrew-- not binding, but a constant reminder that there was something there.

It nearly blended into Isabelle's pale skin, but it shone rainbow as Isabelle shifted under the changing room's lights. It wasn't a necklace; it was a choker. When Isabelle touched the back of her neck she couldn't feel any fastener or seam. A mild warmth emanated from it that reminded Isabelle of Ella's touch. When she looked at her reflection wearing it, Isabelle felt like some small piece of Ella's otherworldly beauty had been conferred onto her. Did Ella make this herself? For her?

"Ella, I really love it"

"It looks wonderful on you," Ella smiled, "It's a special sort of necklace that faeries of my circle make. It shows that I'm bound to you."

Isabelle felt her stomach twist at the word "bound." The delicate barrier of tenderness and warmth Ella had given her shattered like glass. Isabelle saw herself with her ordinary eyes again: she was wearing a ridiculous dress and a symbol of her friend's servitude. Ella was just humoring her. _She's just bound to you until her work is done_, Isabelle told herself, _Don't get your hopes up. Don't be an idiot_.

_Don't be an idiot, don't be an idiot, god, Isabelle, stop being such an idiot_; The mantra repeated in Isabelle's head as she stared dumbly at Ella, now leaving an awkward pause. Ella didn't say anything to break the silence until Isabelle choked out a pained noise and tears began to pool in her eyes.

"Isabelle?"

Ella's face was falling now-- the moment was turning sour. Isabelle was ruining everything, breaking their beautiful illusion. She wished she could kiss Ella with all her heart and go back to believing that she was wanted. But Ella would never truly want Isabelle. She would kiss Isabelle back, giggle, and move on. And Isabelle would cry about it on her bathroom floor at night with the sink on so that Ella couldn't hear her.

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"Isabelle?"

She couldn't take it; she couldn't breathe. She had to get away from her right now. Isabelle pushed past Ella, tore the dressing room door open, and ran away. Tears ran down her face, blurring her vision, but she went straight for the door to the street outside.

"Isabelle!" Ella's distressed voice called behind her. The clerk exclaimed something that Isabelle couldn't hear.

Her feet hit the pavement and she ran down the busy street, weaving between pedestrians until she ran out of breath, then fell into a walk. The initial adrenaline started to fade. People were staring at her-- some stopped in their tracks to gawk. The chill of the air started to cut into Isabelle, raking across her exposed back and legs. Her feet were bare, she realized, and the pavement was hard and cold and gross. She started to step more carefully, avoiding cigarette butts and mysterious smears of material. She ducked into a small alley between two stores. Her tears gave way into crying vocally, and she wailed and gasped as she slumped to the ground on her. She gasped again, starting to hyperventilate. She tried to slow down, tried to ground herself.

Someone was approaching her. He looked worried, and his mouth was moving. Isabelle heard something garbled and compressed like a bad telephone call. The sounds didn't sync up with his mouth. She tried to breathe, and pull herself back. The pavement below her was cold. It was rough and hard. She could see a cigarette pack on the ground; it was light blue. The air smelled like exhaust. And salt. She could hear cars driving, braking, engines roaring again. She could feel the warmth of the choker that Ella had given her. She could hear again-- she could hear the man who was speaking to her.

"Excuse me, miss, are you alright? Do you need me to call anyone?"

Isabelle was able to lift her head up to look at him. He was an older man, in his 40's or 50's, with an expression of great concern. A woman of a similar age stood behind him, looking a little bit impatient and hanging back as though Isabelle were someone to be afraid of.

"No. It's OK." Isabelle replied reflexively. _Was it OK?_ she thought, trying to take inventory of her situation. Who would she even call? Her parents? Ella? Ella didn't know what a phone was, as far as Isabelle knew. Just thinking of her brought a stabbing pain to Isabelle's heart. The man was still talking.

"-- and, my son, he struggled too. And there are numbers, you know, if you don't have anywhere right now, and --"

The man seemed nice, but she just wanted him to go away. She could probably find her way home from here. If only her keys weren't in a dressing room several blocks away. Could Ella find her way back home too? What if she was lost? Would she be able to find Ella? Would Ella speak to her? The panic started to bubble up again.

"No! It's OK! I'm really OK, promise, I live near here and-- and I'm fine. I just need a minute."

The man looked hesitant, clearly not buying it. It probably didn't help that Isabelle still had tears streaking down her face. Or that she didn't have any shoes.

The woman standing behind the man spoke up.

"Dave, she says she's fine. Can't we go?"

The man, Dave, looked conflicted. He had a pained look on his face as he stepped away from Isabelle. He stopped, then stepped over to Isabelle again and dropped a card in her lap.

"Look, if you ever need anything--" He began.

"Dave!"

"Ah, sorry." Dave returned to the woman, and the two of them walked away.

Isabelle turned the card over in her hands. It was a business card; he was some kind of associate of-- something. It had his number. Isabelle dropped it onto the ground. She should get up soon. The more she calmed down, the worse the cold became. She wasn't sure what to do once she was ready to move.

"...Isabelle?"

She recognized the soft, high pitched voice. The tone of worry was less familiar. Isabelle felt a horrible pang of regret.

"Ella..."

Her faerie walked up to her, seeming afraid to approach too close. She was still wearing her jeans, but she carried a pile of clothes-- the dresses she had picked for herself, and the clothes that Isabelle had worn into the store. Isabelle couldn't help but notice that Ella was walking naturally, even though she was still wearing the jeans that she so detested. The irony wasn't lost on Isabelle, now that she was the one dressed inappropriately.

"Isabelle, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Can I come closer?"

Isabelle nodded. Ella came up to her, knelt on the ground, and draped her coat over her shoulders. The warmth was welcome, as was the warmth when Ella gently put her arm around Isabelle. Isabelle whimpered a little.

"Why should you be sorry? I'm the one who ran away..."

"I... Well, I don't fully know. Only I must have done something wrong-- I must have misunderstood something terribly, and that must be why you ran away, isn't that right?"

"No, that's really not why," Isabelle choked out, "I just-- I care for you. But I feel like I'm just your job; and I'm scared you don't really care for me at all. It just overwhelmed me. I'm sorry it came out like this."

"Isabelle, of course I care for you. I'm bound to you; I believe in you. I feel that I know you more each day, and I want you to be happy."

"Right, you're just bound to me. That's the problem," Isabelle said hoarsely, sniffling. Ella dabbed at her nose with one of her dresses. Isabelle continued: "You _have_ to care for me. It's like-- I'm forcing you to be with me. So how can you care for me at all, really? When you tell me I'm beautiful, or you touch me, or you kiss me. When you hold me, or sleep next to me. Or when we have sex. It's all just to get to that goal quicker, isn't it?"

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