Sally and Her Mistresses

Sally and her Mistresses 02

Thank you for opening my story: I hope you enjoy it and feel able to rate it, and/or make a comment when you've finished. It is the second part of what will eventually be a full-length novel. Because of its length, the action intensifies slowly, and this section, like the first, might not seem to warrant the "non-con" classification. Please have patience; the third section will be much more diverse.

I am hoping that each part can be enjoyed individually. If you have read the first, you might prefer to skip the rest of this preface.

Sally Greenhall is a buxom and curvy woman in her very early twenties; a recent graduate who is taking, as an associate student, a module on

The Literature of Alternative Feminisms

. Maude, the tutor, befriends her and clearly has a sexual interest in her, but she is already in a settled lesbian relationship with Mikaela, who is an investment banker and extremely rich. Both women are dominant, and for their lives to be complete they need a submissive. They have agreed that, should they find a suitable candidate, they will have sex with her only if she is in bondage.

Sally is by nature submissive, and she readily agrees to spend a weekend at Maude's house, which turns out to be in the southern part of the English Lake District. There she is bound and seduced, and then stretched out on a bed to await Mikaela's return from work. She is ruthlessly exploited by the latter and then, after dinner, used by both her new mistresses. The first part of the novel ends with her being chained up for the night, alone in bed, with a screen showing porn for her to watch before she falls asleep.

Maude and Mikaela

The Boat House

Sally slept the sleep of the just for six hours. To her it seemed like five minutes, and she was rudely awakened by the slight figure of Mistress Mikaela- in a short nightdress- climbing onto the bed. As she struggled in her chains to turn onto her back, she was told peremptorily to wake up. "We don't feed you to have you sleep all day. I need to make an early start and I don't want to wake Maude up."

Now straddling Sally and facing her, she shuffled forward, lifted her nightie, and, taking the still bleary slave's head in her right hand, shoved it into her crotch. She worked her way forward until she was virtually kneeling on her face, moving up and down and back and forth by holding on to the bedhead. Sally, who could see nothing under the fabric, managed to work her lips into the opening, licking and sucking, thrusting her tongue deep into the slit. It was not wholly unlike her previous experience with Mikaela, but this time, from right above her, the juices tended to flow right into her mouth, forcing her to swallow from time to time.

It was also shorter; the woman had obviously woken up horny. It culminated in Mikaela bouncing on her face like a gymnast on a trampoline, mashing her pubes down on her lips, drawn closed to keep her teeth from hitting the tender flesh. She let go of the bedhead and propped herself up by reaching behind and taking handfuls of breast. For the last few seconds Sally couldn't breathe at all, and took great gulps of air as the weight lifted. The orgasm subsiding, Mikaela paused for a while without moving, then both her hands grabbed Sally's head and pulled her hard against her, wriggling as if to work her mouth further in. Then she pulled away and stepped off the bed.

"Well, duty calls. Have a nice day." With that she bent to kiss Sally briefly on the forehead, straightened the duvet and left, locking the door behind her.

Chest still heaving, Sally mewed with frustration. Mikaela had left her aroused but she had no means of getting release. She would have to wait for Maude, who would probably find her with swollen lips and bruised breasts.

What time is it?,

she thought. Looking at the window she realized that, in this room, the wooden shutters outside were closed. She contemplated making her way over to see if she could see a chink of light, but what did it matter? Whatever the time was, she just had to wait. Again she underestimated her tiredness, and dropped off quickly. When she woke up again, still alone, she felt more randy than ever.

Sally often masturbated in the mornings, and that was without being ravished in chains by a lesbian. She managed to pull the duvet off a few inches at a time, and found that if she lay on her back and crossed her legs, she could hold the chain by her fingers and "walk" the surplus length up her body. Its weight caused it to droop between her open legs, giving her a little stimulus as the links passed above her pussy. The she could straighten her legs, pulling it slowly down again.

Whether she could have brought herself off that way was doubtful. She was soon thinking that the risk of scratches and abrasions from the roughly soldered links would force her to stop, even more frustrated than before. She never had to make the decision. Preoccupied as she was, it took a moment to realize that Maude was standing in the doorway, wearing a towelling bathrobe and looking mildly annoyed.

"Mikaela warned me that slave heat was difficult to control. I thought it was something she'd read in a seedy novel. Now it looks as if you'll end up spending your nights staked out like a dead butterfly."

"I'm so sorry mistress. I've always been weak that way. Please forgive me."

"It's not forgiveness you need, but control, and that we'll have to set about providing. The cure for poor self-control is strict bondage."

That didn't sound too bad, and Sally relaxed as she was urged to her feet and led shuffling into the big family bathroom. Maude unravelled a very long, light chain that was hidden behind the toilet, and locked it to her waist. She removed all her other restraints, replacing her wrist cuffs with a chain that was locked directly on her, without cuffs. Another chain, thicker and smoothly finished, was put round her throat, locked both shut and to her wrists, which were thus confined closely under her chin.

"We don't want to get the leather wet, but we need to clean you thoroughly. Your face is positively shiny."

Maude started the shower and adjusted the temperature, shrugged off her robe, pulled Sally into the stall and proceeded to wash her, all over, including her hair. She did the same for herself, alternating between their two bodies, and then led the way out, to dry them with big, fluffy white towels. She rubbed their hair but left it to dry naturally.

Simple

moisturiser was applied all over both their bodies.

Then it was off to the master bedroom, Sally hoping very much that the process was going to end on the big bed. She was disappointed. her waist was locked to a bedpost with the usual precautions, and her other chains removed. Her collar was locked back in place. Maude then made her face the bed and pulled her hands behind her back, crossing the wrists. She produced from a drawer a big roll of black tape and proceeded to wind it, first horizontally, then vertically, many times in each direction. When she was satisfied that they were secure she used more winds of tape to secure the bound wrists to the waist chain, explaining as she did so.

"This is special bondage tape. It sticks only to itself. It's been made for a long time, but this is an improved type. It's self-annealing as well; the adhesive melts the layers together, so your wrists are set in a soft plastic mould. It should be very comfortable, but it's completely secure." She looked at her watch and added, inconsequentially; "It's just turned nine." She dressed herself simply in a red blouse and white shorts.

The last step before they went downstairs was to replace Sally's ankle cuffs, but she didn't lock them together until they reached the kitchen. They sat at the little table again, to the plainest of breakfast. Maude put four Weetabix and milk in one big bowl, and with a single spoon fed them alternate mouthfuls. She poured two mugs of coffee, one with a straw. After they had finished she took Sally into the lounge and sat her on the big sofa, facing the patio doors. To the bound girl's astonishment and dismay, she quickly raised the blinds, exposing her to the outside world. Reflexes took over; unable to conceal herself with her hands, Sally bent double with a horrified gasp. Tutt-tutting disapprovingly, Maude walked briskly around the sofa, reached down over the back to grab her collar, and hauled her upright.

"Don't be ridiculous, there's nobody out there," she snapped. "If there was, that would be my problem. Slaves are not allowed modesty."

From her pocket she took a length of cord and used it to tie the collar to the sofa's wooden frame.. Sally's head was pulled back slightly, and she felt that she was thrusting her breasts at the window, still half expecting a rustic gardener to appear, pushing a wheelbarrow. Her obvious distress brought another tirade from Maude, who seemed a different woman from yesterday.

"Keep still! I really can't understand how you can be such a harlot at one moment, and a blushing virgin the next. I thought I could see before; now the daylight makes it obvious. Your lips are fuller, and there are pink finger marks on your tits. You've been fucking Mikaela in the night. She needs protection from girls like you."

Sally began to detect a note of irony; Maude was having difficulty keeping up the pretence of an angry schoolmistress. She was feeling a little more confident now, enough to shuffle back on the seat to get her head up straight enough to survey the scene outside. There was a spacious patio with several trees in tubs, a wooden table with four dining chairs, two loungers and the inevitable barbeque. Beyond that was mature garden; a twenty yard square of well-tended lawn with herbaceous borders on each side. It was surrounded on three sides by a tall hedge, but opposite the house it was broken by a white metal arch with a gate, giving promise of more beyond. Spring bulbs were beginning to flower in the borders, with the promise of much more to come as Spring progressed. Maude had stopped to admire the scene herself for a few moments, but now she came around to sit at right angles to Sally, looking much less stern now.

"I really need to explain to you what we're doing this morning," she said, in a tone that suggested that she might be about to produce a couple of pairs of knitting needles and some wool. "You are a beautiful girl and you have breasts to die for, and I think they are shown to best advantage with your hands behind your back. It makes them completely open and accessible at all times, my property to do with as I like."

To demonstrate the point she reached out and gently manipulated the right one for a few seconds. "What I need to know is, how long can we keep you like that without it hurting you badly. So, you may ask me, at any time, to undo your hands, and I'll put them in another position. It'll take a few minutes to cut away the plastic safely, so I wouldn't leave it until you're in agony. I won't release you until you ask; there's no time limit. Is that clear so far?"

"Yes, mistress." Sally was thinking that it was odd to give her so much control.

How will I know when she's satisfied?

But Maude had more to say.

"Of course, you need an incentive not to give up too easily. Slavery isn't conducive to the development of a sense of responsibility or a determination to meet and overcome challenges. It isn't supposed to be, of course, but sometimes one needs to cater for a special case. A few years ago, I asked a friend- not Mikaela then- to tie my hands behind my back with some nice soft rope. She did it very well, I was very comfortable, and spent the next four hours mostly reclining on the sofa. The problem then was that my friend succumbed to the temptation to take advantage of me. Having her bouncing up and down on me- and she wasn't a gentle lover- gave me terrible aches and cramps in my upper arms and shoulders, and just as the fifth hour was over I had to ask her to let me go. I was disappointed, but there it is." She shrugged philosophically, before going on.

"This is the deal, and I think it's quite a good one for you; I'm in a generous mood despite your misdemeanours this morning. If you fail to hold out for three hours, you will be very severely punished. I wouldn't worry too much about that, though. Yesterday you were locked up in that position for about two hours, and you never even looked uncomfortable. You've already done an hour now. Are you OK?"

"Yes mistress. I had forgotten about my arms, mistress."

"Good. After three hours, the punishments will gradually diminish, until you reach five hours. That's a neutral outcome; you will be neither punished nor rewarded. After that, you will earn rewards, increasing as you go on. If you should manage seven hours- and I think that's very unlikely- your reward will be a day of total bliss, until Mikaela comes back. That would be tomorrow, but I don't expect to have to make good on that promise. Is that all clear?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Good. Remember that it was nine o'clock when I did you up. Of course you won't be lying here all day; I'm going to show you round the garden. It's supposed to be a nice warm day, but we'll have to amuse ourselves somehow for an hour while the temperature rises and the dew dries."

She went off, presumably to find some piece of equipment. Sally was feeling very confident. She had in fact conducted some experiments of her own about six months previously. Tying a knot in a dressing-gown cord, she had, while lying in bed, put her hands behind her back, through the loop, and twisted it tight. She had never meant to stay like that for more than an hour, but one night she had done it shortly after getting into bed at around midnight. She had drunk a little too much wine, and had promptly fallen asleep. She had woken at half past seven, dying for a pee, with her arms stiff and sore and her hands numb. It had taken her five minutes, sitting on the loo in the cold and dark of that January morning, to work her wrists loose.

It was the end of her venture into self-bondage, but no harm had been done. Now she was glad of the experience. She would make a point of flexing her upper arms and shoulders, as much as her bonds allowed, when her mistress wasn't looking. The only enemy that she knew she couldn't overcome was cramp, but she rarely suffered from that.

Maude returned with surprisingly little in the way of equipment- just the ankle spreader, which she left on the crescent sofa- but she had swapped her shorts for a skirt; black, short and flared. It didn't really suit her, and would have been unremarkable but for the lack of panties underneath. She pulled up a small armchair, putting it even closer to the patio doors, facing the sofa. On it she put the seat cushion from another identical one; they formed a pair that usually stood against the back wall of the room. She sat down, trying it out, and seemed satisfied. She could sit upright against the back, with her legs open but her knees bent over the front edge, and the balls of her feet resting on the floor. Rubbing her hands in gleeful anticipation, she summoned Sally from the sofa.

"Kneel in front of me; close as you can."

She had to reach forward to help her down, as Sally's ankles were still locked together. Having done that she lifted her skirt, put her arms behind her head and sat back, relaxed. Sally did not need instructions, but leant forward to begin her work.

Doing cunnilingus on Maude was quite different to performing the same service for Mikaela. The latter had supplied a lot of the muscle herself, forcing Sally's mouth into place and holding it there with hands or body weight. Now Sally had a passive subject leaving her to it. In some ways it was a more pleasant task. She hardly had to move at all to make contact; the outer lips were half open and it was just a matter of using her tongue to push her way through.

It was easy to gain entry, to penetrate the inner lips and gain access to the clitoris and the tunnel beneath. Beyond that it was more difficult. Without help, and with her hands bound, she had only her neck muscles to supply the force that she needed to push her tongue further in, and to press down on the whole vaginal area. She knew that she wouldn't be able to push continuously, and so used other techniques as much as possible. She chewed very gently on the labia, ran her tongue round inside the inner lips, and as the nubbin became engorged and swollen, took it between her lips and moved them rapidly from side to side, one against the other.

Every few seconds she pushed down, forcing her tongue deep into the wet hole and withdrawing to stroke the whole pubic area up and down. Maude's breathing indicated that she was getting a response, but to keep her excitement growing she needed to work faster and harder. Everything was aching; her neck, her tongue and her lips were all nearing the limit of their endurance. To flag or fail, she assumed, would mean a whipping, but the feeling of having failed her mistress would be a worse punishment.

She made herself go on, and at long last the flesh under her mouth began to push back, almost imperceptibly at first. Maude was doing her best to keep still, wanting to assess her new slave's stamina and ability to work unaided, and as she became more aroused she concentrated on deep breathing to help control the stirring in her loins. Her efforts to keep calm bottled up the pressure and ensured an explosive outcome.

Suddenly she bucked, once, twice, three times, four times, in quick succession. Sally was nearly thrown back by the first convulsion, and was lucky to keep her teeth clear of the tender flesh that was jammed against her mouth. Then she just clamped her lips in place and sucked, and was able to ride out the rest of the storm. When all was quiet she kept her place until gentle hands pulled her head away. She could feel more bruising in and around her lips. She waited anxiously for some pronouncement on her performance.

"Very nice. Now I know how you've managed to bend Mikaela to your wicked ways. Those lips are going to look like a Botox trout-pout if we keep this up, but I expect you'll toughen up in time. Time for coffee."

She went off to make it, leaving Sally kneeling on the floor, but soon returned to help her to hobble into the kitchen. Just like the day before, it was coffee through a straw and bites taken from a big cookie. Maude chatted about skin care products, showing a healthy scepticism about anything but moisturisers, and wanted to know Sally's opinion on different brands. With her face once again damp and salty, it was difficult to take the conversation seriously.

Afterwards Maude decided that they both needed something on their feet. She found sandals for herself, but went off and returned with a pair of high heeled patent leather (or plastic) shoes.

"These are just a little novelty that Mikaela picked up in Blackpool. It doesn't matter if you get them dirty."

The novelty lay in the fact that the shoes had a locking strap round the ankle, and a light chain, permanently attached, that kept them no more than fourteen inches apart. Thus hobbled, on heels that were much higher than any she had ever worn before, Sally was led tottering through the kitchen door into a little glass vestibule. Maude clipped a dog lead to her collar, and draped a woollen poncho-like garment over each of them, Sally's being much longer. "I look forward to the warmer weather, when we can go out naked," she remarked, "but it'll be another month or two, unfortunately."

They went out, and strolled (and minced) round the edge of the lawn that dominated the view from the lounge windows. Maude returned to the role of tour guide, and told Sally that she was free to ask questions or comment on the garden and its contents. The latter was still struggling to come to terms with being out in the open air, bound and on a lead, in a place new to her and where a gardener had been working only the day before.

What if the gardener decides to do some extra work, to make up for time lost to bad weather? Suppose he's just planted some seedlings that need daily watering?

She tried to make a conscious decision to accept that it just wasn't her business anymore. Her mistress would take care of her.