Caveat
As ever with the Literotica categories I end up falling between two stools. Is this a D/s love story where the main characters just happen to be lesbian or is it a lesbian love story where the characters relationship just happens to be D/s? Well, it's a bit of both. If you don't like stories where one woman calls another 'Mistress' then this tale is not for you. Furthermore, I've concentrated on the 'Lit' in Literotica. Don't expect hot girl-on-girl action right from the start, although you will find plenty of action along the way.
Dedication
It is hard to express the full depth of my gratitude to the two persons who have done so much to help this story come alive. Both have put in many hours of unsung effort with no thought of any reward beyond my heartfelt thanks. In no particular order there's Estragon: Ruthless eliminator of the run on sentence, fearless destroyer of clichés. No homonym escapes his eagle eye. I always used to wonder why authors thanked their editors so profusely; now I know. Without him this would surely be a sorry mess of grammatical errors. OneWhoAdores: Right from the start he saw, clearer than I, the direction this story would take. Long discussions about morality within the D/s relationship and the lines we draw between fantasy and reality formed the background to this story and, in many ways, this is a co-write. Both are authors on this site, authors whose work I admire. I urge you to check them out.
On with the story....
Karen Morris sat in the privacy of the restroom stall, hiding away and shaking slightly. It was another bad day at work; they all seemed to be bad nowadays. Ever since she had been promoted to team leader by dint of her long service, she was well out of her depth and she knew it. She had just finished a session with her supervisor, who had been on her back about falling productivity and, when she had returned to try to chivvy up the telesales girls she was nominally in charge of, they had all but laughed in her face. One thing was for certain, they had no respect for her either as a leader or as a person. With each month's declining figures she was moving closer and closer to being sacked. Why had she accepted the promotion in the first place? But then she never could say no, not then, not ever. She clamped her hands between her knees and fought back the tears that welled in her eyes.
She was still sitting like that when she heard the door to the restroom open and a group of women from her team came in followed shortly by the reek of cigarette smoke.
"Good grief, that Karen, what a waste of space! Trying to give us a hard time about smoking breaks, as if we care a jot what she says or thinks. Poncy little madam, isn't she," one of the women exclaimed. Evidently they were unaware that she was sitting in the end stall. Perhaps they didn't even care.
"Yeah, smarmy little prig. She's so uptight it's not true; I reckon what she needs is a damn good shag but she can't get a man so she takes it out on us," another joined in.
"Karen Morris, shagging! Don't make me laugh; OK, so she could look quite decent if she took a little trouble over herself but look at the clothes she wears and that hair style. Even if she did sort herself out no man would ever get anywhere near her, those knickers of hers are made of cast iron and her legs were welded shut years ago."
This caused a general round of laughter.
"But seriously, do you think she's ever done it?"
"What, her! Never!" one of the women snorted in derision. "Her pussy's seen so little action it's healed over. And if anyone did get up there all they would find is cobwebs. Nah, if ever there was a middle-aged virgin it's that one."
"Middle-aged? I didn't think she was more than thirty, if that," another queried.
"Thirty going on fifty," was the retort. "She's been middle aged ever since she was a teenager, that one. You can just bet she lives alone and keeps cats."
This produced more gales of laughter.
As she listened in horror, Karen shamefully admitted to herself that the women were right. Although she didn't have a cat she was a virgin and with the way she was going she was showing every likelihood of remaining one. Sex had never been a feature in her life; indeed, the only time a male of any description had been anywhere near her was a clumsy grope back in school when Billy Avery had insisted on a snog. Even after all these years, she still shuddered at the memory; as soon as he had started he had been all over her like an octopus and she had been disgusted as he thrust his tongue down her throat and his hand up her skirt and, ever since then, she had no desire to repeat the performance. What had made it worse was when she had found out that he had only done it for a bet and that, as soon as she had repelled him, he went around spreading the word that she was frigid. Once again, she had become the laughing stock of her peers.
It was this social awkwardness, this failing to fit in, that had marked most of her childhood years; she had been a menopause child, born when her mother was nearly fifty. As her much older siblings had grown up and left home, she had been the one left behind to look after her ageing parents. All through her teens and early twenties she had been kept busy by their increasingly difficult demands. Then, when at first her father and then her mother had fallen ill, she had become both nurse and provider and had had no time for any social life. Now they had both passed away and she was alone but, when it came to boy friends, she hardly knew where to start, or indeed whether she wanted to. Sure, as she watched rom-coms on the telly she had vague dreams of being swept away by a masterful lover; but somehow the leading men didn't seem to attract her and, on the rare occasion when she did meet someone, he always turned out to be more Billy Avery than Hugh Grant. Not that she fancied Hugh Grant that much either. But being resigned to her fate didn't make the loneliness any less painful; she just didn't know where to start.
So, huddled in the stall she hid away, waiting for the women to finish their cigarettes so that she could sneak back out and pretend that she really was their team leader, pretend that she was happy, pretend that all really was well with the world.
It was only a week or so later after this incident that Karen looked up to see Susan, her supervisor coming towards her with a young woman trailing behind.
"Ah Karen, this is Mel, the new team member I told you about," she said as she approached the desk. "She will be replacing Mary whose retirement is now finalised. I've briefed her on the basics, so perhaps you could show her which desk to use and so forth. Oh, and don't forget Mary's leaving do on Friday, we're relying on you to give the farewell speech; we do expect the team leaders to make an effort, you know."
Without any further ado Susan marched off, leaving Karen to introduce herself. At first, shocked by the brusque introduction, she didn't say anything; she just looked the newcomer up and down. Mel was short and wiry with close cropped, spiky hair. She was dressed in jeans and a blouse but there was something not quite right about the blouse, something Karen couldn't quite pin down. Then she realized with a bit of a shock what it was, the buttons went the wrong way, it wasn't a blouse, it was a man's shirt and, combined with the jeans and the rather tough boots she was wearing, it gave Mel a decidedly masculine look. However, as long as she did her job it really didn't matter what she wore; in fact the rather manly attire rather suited her in a strange way. With a start she realized she was staring so, pulling herself together, she stood up and, with a rather feeble 'follow me' took Mel over to the desk she would be using. Her rather feeble efforts to engage Mel in conversation were met with monosyllabic answers and Karen realized with an internal sigh that this was going to be another staff member with whom she had nothing in common. On the other hand, when she introduced Mel to Sharon, who was to be her mentor, she could see that there was an instant understanding and they started chatting as if Karen wasn't even there. Muttering 'I'll leave you two to get on with it then' Karen made her way back to her workstation.
Then it was back to putting together ideas for her speech for Mary's leaving do. Much as she was dreading standing up in front of everyone, she could hardly get out of it; she was the team leader and it was expected of her. Susan had made it quite clear that her presence was effectively compulsory. However she knew from similar occasions in the past that she would end up alone and friendless, stuck in a corner sipping a soft drink whilst all around her others would be having fun.
And so it almost was. Mary had used some of her leaving bonus to splash out and hire a room at a local pub and she had also insisted that partners would be welcome. When Karen had arrived the party was already in full swing and the more the alcohol flowed the louder it got. Karen, as ever, bought herself a lemonade from the bar, found herself a quiet corner and watched as she waited to do her dreaded speech. From time to time she wished she could join in but she knew what would happen if she tried. At best she would be politely ignored but she knew from experience that, from some of her staff, she would also get open hostility. Better by far to sit it out in the safety of her quiet corner. In her misery she was so used to being ignored that she didn't even see the young woman approaching and, as she was tapped on her shoulder, she jumped in surprise.
"Hi, I'm Lucy, I'm sorry if I startled you," the woman said with a smile.
"Hi... I'm.... I'm Karen."
"So you're the boss lady. Mel's told me quite a bit about you. I saw you sitting all alone and thought I'd come and talk to you. Can I sit down?"
"Of course," Karen pulled back a chair for Lucy. "I hope Mel didn't say anything bad about me."
"Not too bad," Lucy conceded, "but I'd like to make my own mind up. Is your partner with you?"
"Partner..." Karen blushed. "No, no, I'm on my own. And you, are you with Mel then?"
"That's right. I'm her significant other," Lucy replied with a heavy emphasis on the 'significant other' bit. "Didn't she tell you about me?"
