Note to readers: This is a sequel to my story "Sensitive Research." While I had decided to end the story, I have had a number of readers contact me about whether I was writing a sequel, and I found that I missed the characters. So I've decided to write this sequel, which picks up a while after the end of the original tale. There is a brief recap of the earlier story, and then develop this new thread slowly with some new characters. As usual, your respectful feedback is welcomed.
*******************
Chapter 1
I was naked and restrained spread-eagled on the bed of a stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger, but I had just met this woman less than three hours ago. Leather cuffs held my arms to the headboard above my head, and each of my ankles was cuffed and similarly tied to its respective bedpost. My pussy was dripping in response to what she had already done to me, and in anticipation of what I suspected was to come. I was blindfolded, so was relying on my other senses to clue me in as to what was going on.
I had heard the woman walk out of the bedroom a few moments ago. I don't know where she went and for how long she would be gone. A momentary panic crossed my mind, wondering what would happen if she had just walked out and left me here, unable to release myself from the restraints. We had agreed on a safe word - Malibu - but it would be of little use to me if there was no one to hear it. But after this agonizing thought crossed my mind, I calmed myself with the knowledge that this was her home, that she would be here, and that I had to trust that she would not endanger me.
After what seemed like 15 or 20 minutes, but was probably no more than five, I heard the sound of a door opening and closing somewhere in the house. A minute or two later, it was the sound of footsteps returning toward the bedroom. I heard someone approaching the bed, and then sensed the presence of someone standing by me.
"Are you ready to continue, my little slut?" I recognized the voice of the woman who had put me in this position.
"I guess so, Ma'am," I replied, using one of the honorifics she had instructed me to use.
I felt fingers lightly brushing across my belly, just barely touching me, but enough to let me know they were there. They circled around, below my breasts, and above my mons, just barely grazing each. I willed her to go either higher or lower - or preferably both - so as to help relieve the relentless teasing she had saddled me with since she had restrained me on the bed. My mouth was dry, as I realized I hadn't had anything to drink in the hour or so since I had been here. My breaths were very short, as if I were fighting the arousal that was coursing through my body.
I felt the mattress tilt as she must have sat down next to me. She continued circling my belly, but then after two or three minutes of this she shifted, and began to tease my nipples between her fingers. Lightly at first, as if she were trying to plump up a small pillow, but then she began to apply more pressure, giving both of them a strong squeeze simultaneously. I gasped at the onslaught, my nipples responding on their own, betraying my reactions to this tormentor.
After less than a minute she stopped, but I could feel my nipples still standing at attention. I next felt a finger - or was it two? - dipping into my pussy, and rhythmically pistoning in and out of me. God, that felt so damn good! Maybe now I would receive the release I was craving. But after just no more than a few moments she stopped, and the next sensation I experienced was the smell of my own arousal as she held her fingers under my nose.
"Just as I thought, your pussy is like a river, you slut. You like this, don't you?"
"No Mistress," I tried to fight back against what both of us knew was the truth. "I'm scared, I've never done anything like this before."
I felt a sharp smack on the side of my large breast closest to where she was sitting, and I let out a yelp. "Don't lie to me, slut, I can see and feel that being my little submissive pet has gotten your juices flowing and your nipples standing at attention. Now I'll ask you one more time. You like this, don't you?"
I whimpered a bit, knowing that she could see right through me. In a quiet voice, I answered, "Yes, Ma'am."
"Yes, what, slut," she pushed me.
"Yes, I like being your slave, Mistress," I elaborated for her.
"That's right, and I'm going to get to play with you all night if I want." I felt her fingers on one of my nipples again, squeezing it and pulling it, and then as she continued tugging, feeling my large breast pulling away from my body.
She let go of my nipple and my breast fell back to my chest and flopped to the side. "I'll be right back, don't move," and she chuckled to herself as I felt her get up from the bed and heard her walk away. I wondered again how long she was going to leave me this time.
I heard her walking around in another part of the house, not too far from the bedroom. And then I heard another sound, very faint at first. I strained to focus in on it, and realized that it was voices. At first I thought it was coming from a radio, or television, but then after a few moments it was the sound of two people talking.
"Oh shit," I thought, "she has someone else here with her!"
*******************
It had been about a month since I had returned from my field work in Chicago visiting dommes and their female clients for my research study. My research assistant Tara had been busy transcribing the interviews we had conducted with the women. She was also assisting me with the coding of all of our notes from the sessions where we observed the dommes in sessions with their clients. We had a lot of work to do to make sense of all the data we had.
I also was wrestling with making sense of what had happened to me - and Tara - during the last couple of days in Chicago. I had embarked on this study because the topic of dommes and female clients was one that was very under-studied in the research literature. There was much scholarly work on dommes and male clients, and male doms, but almost nothing written about female-on-female relationships of this type. So I thought I had an opportunity to make a contribution to the literature, and after receiving a small grant from an open-minded family foundation that helped pay for Tara's time and our travel and other expenses, I embarked on the study.
My name is Susan Phillips, and I am a professor of social psychology at a major research university. At the time of this study, I had been a professor for eight years, having achieved tenure three years earlier. I was at the stage of my career where I could begin to take on more controversial research topics, and this was certainly turning out to be a very controversial one.
What I had not counted on was the way that both Tara and I would get pulled into the world of female domination ourselves. The last domme we met in Chicago, Lady Amber as she was known, had manipulated both Tara and me into her world of BDSM. I found myself being dominated by her, as well by one of her clients, and she even forced me to sexually service Tara in the last session with her.
My instincts were that I should have just shut the study down; my being drawn into such intimate contact with the research subjects was a serious breach of professional ethics. Never mind what had happened between Tara and me; that was likely enough to get me fired by my university, and damage my professional reputation irreparably.
But Lady Amber, as manipulative as she had been, gave us her assurances that she would keep confidential what had happened in her home, and she had full confidence that her clients would do the same. For some reason, I decided I had to trust her, and the stakes for shutting down the study were just too high. For one thing, I would likely have to pay back the foundation's money I had already spent; this was tens of thousands of dollars and I just didn't know where I would get that. In addition, I was still very interested in the study, and felt there would still be an audience for it. We had some incredibly rich material from our field work, and I knew there would be opportunities to get a number of journal articles out of it, and I felt there was even the possibility of a book. It was not just my career that was at stake, but Tara's as well; she needed to get some publications out of our work as well in order for her to stay on track for graduation and getting a job as a professor herself.
