You would be forgiven as you read this story to think, "I have read this story before, I am sure." You could very well be correct as if you have read Take @ Chance Ch 1 - by Laura then you will have read this story as I am about to retell it again. When I wrote Laura's version I wrote the story from her perspective, this time I am going to tell exactly the same story but from Debbie's perspective. So, you already know the end... or do you?
*****
We had been stopped at the train station for a good 90 minutes and there seemed to be no sign of the train moving, but as always with British Rail, the only announcements were the guard saying he had no idea what was going on. I sat with my head pressed against the train window, on the other side the view was of the main station entrance and already a few people had started to look for taxis. On my side, was a half-deserted platform with another stopped train.
I was bored shitless. I had scanned the carriage for any possible companions and even though a couple of the women had given me surreptitious glances the presence of their boyfriend or husband procluded any further action. I even fired up my Take @ Chance app with the hope that one of them may respond as it wouldn't be the first time I have had an outrageous conversation with a married woman while her husband sat oblivious to it all.
The app pinged to show someone was nearby and it hit me that she must be on the other train. Looking out of the window I saw someone and fell instantly in love, well in lust to be more accurate, and found myself praying it was her on the app. I could feel myself get instantly wet and sliding my hand under the table I started to touch myself while texting with my free hand.
As I watched her pretty face staring vacantly out of the window, I started to make up a life imagining how she was almost certainly straight and probably a one-man happily married type. Never strayed from the path of righteousness and thought lesbians were the spawn of the devil, well that's what my mother always called us.
Thinking of my mother made me sigh sadly. We hadn't talked in nearly eight years since my parents had caught me in bed with Jenny Mulhern from the next street along. One moment my head was buried between her thighs, lapping at her sweetness as she returned the favour, the next I was being dragged from her embrace by my father as my mother cursed and hissed calling us both abominations in her eyes of God. We sat on the couch in subdued silence, wrapped in blankets, as my father paced the front waiting for Jenny's parents to collect her. What could they do I thought, we were both 18 and it wasn't like it was illegal though in rural Ireland you would have thought it was a stoning offence.
There was a hushed conversation in the hall when Jenny's father arrived and then she was dragged to the car and I never saw her again. Not that she was done in or anything, just she was shipped off to Cork and married off to a farmer's son and was pregnant within the year of being married. After she left and my father returned to the room I stood and tried to object, after all, I was an adult but as I opened my mouth the back of his hand sent me spinning across the room. I went to stand but he punched me in the face splitting my lip which spurted blood. Then taking his belt from his trousers he pulled me over his knee and started to spank me with hard vicious strokes. It was relentless and he accompanied each blow with a curse and mutterings about 'my type' and 'unclean whores'.
As the belt lashed down, I tried to cut out my surroundings but found my eyes locked with my mother who stood with her arms folded, scolding me with her stare, no pity evident, no words of protest. Eventually, my father became tired and pushed me from his lap stating how he was disgusted with me and how I should be thrown out on the street like a dog. As I sat on the floor sobbing two things ran through my brain. The first was that he was so disgusted with me yet got an erection as he beat me and the other was that despite the pain and humiliation, I was wet.
From thereon meals were eaten in silence and my father would refuse to acknowledge my existence, leaving the table as soon as he had finished. I resolved in my mind that I would leave I just needed cash and the opportunity. My moment came after a few weeks when I caught my mother alone in the kitchen washing up with her back to me.
"I was thinking mammy that I might be leaving but would be needing some cash to do so."
She said nothing but just continued moving the plates from the bowl to the drainer.
"I was wondering if he would have beaten you so hard had he caught you with Mrs O" Hanlan in the same way as he caught me and Jenny?"
My mother stiffened and turned to face me, the fear on her face plain and I knew that my guess had hit home and something was going on between them.
"He would kill me," she said wringing her hands
"You never tried to stop him, you bitch," I hissed back at her.
What followed wasn't so much a negotiation but rather an exchange of insults with demands for money to make me go away and promise never to return. I didn't care what she wanted as I never wanted to see either of them again and stuffing the cash into my rucksack along with a few bits of clothing I caught the bus to Dublin.
Returning my attention to the girl I could see her looking at me and I breathed on the glass before drawing T@C on the glass.
I needed to change my look from the Kilkenny country girl to something that screamed lesbian dyke and learn how to have the upper hand when it came to sex. If I was going to be the 'spawn of the devil,' then I was going to be the best spawn there was. Walking into a barber's shop in the gay quarter of Dublin that stated in its window that it specialised in 'gender-neutral hair cutting' I asked for the most lesbian haircut they could do. The woman just looked at me with an amused grin on her face as she said, "so are you a lesbian or a wannabe and do you really think you are a dyke?"
I laughed with a greater degree of bravery than I felt as I looked her in the eye and said, "Why don't you cut my hair, let me lick your pussy in payment and then you can teach me how to be a proper dyke."
She roared with laughter and patted the chair, licking her lips as she said, "Deal. I'm Molly but you can call me Ma'am."
We had a great six months as she became my mentor and my lover showing me all the ways to bring a woman to the heights of ecstasy. She showed the joys of a flogger, whips and ropes but all the time I was receiving I was learning the ways of BDSM. It all turned a bit sour in the end when she caught me with one of her customers banging her senseless in the flat about the shop. As she said it wasn't so much the sex but using her strap-on without asking her permission was taking the piss. From there I skipped over to England and settled in Newcastle where the nightlife was fantastic in the party capital of Europe.
When the T@C app came out, I took to it like a duck to water and would spend half my time on the app hooking up and the rest of the time prowling the lesbian bars looking for the bicurious women who after a few wines were easy pickings. I found that most started with curiosity but their tastes often ran toward BDSM and I was happy to oblige. In fact, there were a few women who I would regularly fuck in return for gifts and favours which helped me get by financially.
Bringing myself back to reality I added a question mark to the T@C in the window and hoped. Then to my joy, the app pinged showing someone called Curious_L was nearby. A quick scan of her profile told me everything I wanted to know by what it didn't say rather than what it did. The name for a start, oh my this was almost certainly a 'straight' and when I read that at this stage, she was just exploring but wanted to be discrete I was salivating.
I quickly typed,
DEBBIE: Hey there,
I waited to see what would happen next so as she didn't respond I texted again.
DEBBIE: Hey sexy, I'm Debbie. What's your name?
