(This story is not for minors or anyone offended by descriptions of sexual exploration between adventurous women. Feedback always welcome -- I love to hear from readers, esp. dommes! This is a continuation of Lesbian Labor Day Rapture)
I lay quietly on the bed and my breathing grew regular again and I was conscious of an incredibly warm glow all over the back of my body. Heather must have given me three dozen blows, but to tell the truth I lost count. I remember that sometimes the lashes would come quickly in a volley, furiously from one buttock to the other, and then that she would tantalizingly trail the tendrils along my spine before coming down with a fiercely harsh stroke that made me quiver and scream into my gag uncontrollably.
As I write this I want to assure readers that I am NOT ‘in the lifestyle': this was my first and only taste of hard submission. But it's still so fresh in my mind and I'm tempted to of risk something like this again, and I suppose that if either Heather or Gwen called me I would leap at the opportunity. But frankly I've been afraid to return to Loveladies, afraid to stoke my desires beyond what's healthy, afraid of really going over the edge. And yet.... I just hope you readers understand that I am not advocating doing any of the things I did.
Anyway, I lay face down on the soft bed in a delicious sort of stupor, waiting. I was still stretched taut and my nipples were being pinched under my leather bra by the plastic clamps every time I moved and my pussy was seeping and yearning to be filled. At least 30 minutes passed and I was growing tremendously frustrated. I had visions of prostrating myself to Heather, of gently licking along her thighs and pulling apart the sides of her crotchless thong to tease her lovely cunt in gratitude. Where was she? Why was she denying me the pleasure of serving her more fully? She was at least 10 years younger than I and the idea of her youth turned me on even more. But then again, everything that weekend did!
I was aware of the flickering candlelight and it soothed me as I wondered what more would be in store for me, wondered about Gwen – where was she?
Eventually the door opened and I heard Gwen's sultry voice. She approached as I held my breath and kept my eyes shut fearing to displease her.
"Let's see how well you've warmed up the little slut for me," she remarked to Heather.
Gwen sat on the bed and stroked my hair and I opened my eyes.
"Mmmmm," she went on, "my little Susie's nice and red," and she ran her fingers along my back.
"Thank you, Heather." I could hear the two of them kiss as their lips met above and across my body, a long lingering wet kiss.
"You ought to be very grateful to my pet, slut," she said to me. "Are you?"
"Yes, Mistress," I whispered.
Her firm hand lifted my head back and upwards.
"Louder, please," she commanded.
"Yes, Mistress!"
"Now, let's get real," she said ominously. "Heather, darling, stand her up for me."
Heather swiftly removed the scarves from the bedposts and yanked me up by my beautiful red hair. She left the scarves attached to my wrists and ankles, however.
When I rose and caught sight of Gwen I gasped: she looked absolutely stunning in a fierce magnificent sort of way. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face and hung in a long braid. She wore a sort of elegant leather "bra" that exposed her luscious full breasts and their large dark nipples completely. She also wore the same kind of crotchless leather thong that Heather wore, so I could see her pink lovely pussy lips peeping through. Stiletto-heeled black boots that rose just over her ankles completed this awesome vision. I trembled with anticipation as she stood behind me.
Gwen ran her hands along my flanks and I sighed, and then before I knew it she had deftly removed the nipple clamps from under my leather bra. As the blood rushed into my nipples I caught my breath and leaned forward from the sudden pain, but Gwen quickly held my head back. She kissed the nape of my neck and licked my ear so delicately and slowly I thought I would melt. I wanted to turn and kiss her, I wanted to drop to my knees and beg for her to use me as she saw fit, I wanted to lick her boots – I would do anything to please her, this utter stranger…..What had happened to me?
She folded my arms behind my back so that my hands were as close to my elbows as possible. This made my breasts jut out as my shoulders were pulled towards my spine. She fastened my hands and forearms very tightly with the trailing scarves and turned me over to Heather.
"Heather, dear, please give our slut the tour."
Heather guided me – by the hair, as usual – over to a set of louvered doors along the far wall opposite the bed. She opened them and I stepped back in surprise: arranged on the shelf inside the closet were a variety of implements – instruments of torture. I hesitated, fear surging into my breast as my eyes played on the crops, paddles, whips, cuffs, clamps, dildoes… I didn't know real people actually had such things.
Heather's grip on my hair tightened as she lowered my head towards a particular flogger, black and with very long spaghetti-like strands knotted on their ends.
"Pick it up, slut, now! And get on your knees!" commanded Gwen. I opened my mouth and took the handle of the whip in my tender mouth, clasping it with my teeth, and swiftly knelt.
"Take that fucking useless bra off her too!" said Gwen. Heather complied and tossed it across the room.
"Now, slut, I want you to crawl over to me, quickly." Gwen was standing in front of one of the small sofas, not far from the windows. I knelt before her looking up at her magnificent strong sexy legs and lovely beckoning breasts.
"On your back – hurry!" she urged. I let myself down to my side, awkwardly since my hands were bound behind me, but the whip fell from my mouth.
"Pick it up, slut, and try again," she continued impatiently. I bent over and took it into my mouth once more and slowly rolled on my side and then onto my back. I was now staring up at Gwen's pussy as she stood over me, legs apart, back to the sofa.
The way my hands were tied and positioned behind me caused my back to arch naturally upwards. Heather began to wind the scarves around my ankles – very tightly, as was her wont. She pushed my bound feet as close to my ass as possible, roughly, and then with another scarf she linked my bound arms to my bound ankles and pulled tight, as tight as she could, before knotting it securely. The effect was that my heels nearly reached my buttocks. I cried out as she grasped my ankles and slid me over the carpet a bit further towards her.
Then Heather leapt up like a cat and returned with a set of long cords. She wound the cords around the crooks of my knees and anchored the other ends to the feet of the sofa behind me. This made it impossible for me to pull my legs together. I was splayed open and now she unbuckled my leather thong so that my newly shaven smooth pussy was completely exposed and vulnerable. The thong itself was wet from my excitement.
Heather prevented me from squirming backwards to slacken the cords by maintaining her hold on my ankles.
Even though I was truly afraid, I couldn't help but appreciate the artistry of my tormentors. With a few scarves and cords they had lain me open like an immobilized prey. They went about their motions deliberately, without rushing, and this gave rise to a mixture of increased fear and anticipatory excitement.
Gwen removed the whip from my drooling mouth.
"Are you afraid, slut?" she inquired.
"A little, Mistress," I lied – in fact, I was afraid a lot.
"Just a little?" Gwen lashed the inside of my unprotected right thigh and I yelped, "Oh my god, oh my god, it hurts, oh my, it hurts!"
"Just a little?" she asked again, before stroking my left thigh fiercely.
I screamed and tried to squirm but Heather held me in place.
"Please, Mistress," I said, panting.
"Please what?"
"Please, Mistres…. It hurts….." said I, wincing still.
"Isn't that what you're here for? Isn't that what turns you on, slut? Isn't that why you walked into my bar, bitch?" said Gwen coldly and softly.
