Lady Penelope

This chapter is set in the "Altered Genesis" world created by the wonderful DorineHighcoven. I am indebted to her for her inspiration, advice, editing help, and of course, her kind permission to "spin off" from her marvelous series. Thank you!

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The driverless taxi rolled to a halt in front of the club. Brooke and Holly whooped with excitement: "Yay!! We're here!" "C'mon, Penny, you can't stay in the cab

now!

" They mixed giggling and the uproarious laughter, and after stepping onto the sidewalk,leaned into one another and appeared to be holding each other up. They stood in the flowing crowd looking back at her in the taxi, grinning and giggling. Penelope hated when they called her Penny.

With a sigh she pushed herself out the door and stood. That was another thing. Holly and Brooke seemed to have a lot of energy for these night-time escapades. They were both so lean and athletic (and dressed to the nines), but Penelope, only a few years older at 26, had already put on enough weight to have a true noblefemme's physique, tall and portly. They told her they envied her stout build, since everybody took her more seriously, but they still went to the gym to lift weights and work different muscle groups. They were a mystery. They were Brooke and Holly.

Her friends had finally worn Penelope down: they had invited themselves to her lovely Park Avenue apartment and made free with her modest liquor supply. Penelope had a flight in the morning, and certainly didn't want to get on a plane hung over.

"Put something nice on, Penny," Holly had said. "We came over to drag you out for a last-minute carousal, a devilish bit of debauchery before you abandon us for the wilds of Idaho." Holly was always clever with words, and then apologizing for it. Penelope knew her friend had an exceptional vocabulary, and wondered why she hid it all the time.

Brooke stood next to Penelope with a bottle of champagne, impatiently waiting for her to finish what was in her glass. She smirked down at Penelope. "Hurry along now, m'dear," she said. "Time's a-wastin'. We have places to go." Brooke was very difficult to resist, even when she was simply offering to top up a drink. She always had convincing reasons for her decided opinions on all things practical, political, and technical. She was that one person in Penelope's life whom she could trust for the right answer. Resisting her right then seemed infantile, or even churlish.

They stood in front of the club and looked up at the neon sign, which alternated between the name of the club, "Specimens," and two or three outlines of very firm and shapely boys. This display was understated compared to others around town, which showed boys outlined complete with large erections. But Specimens was the club of choice for affluent young femme partly because of the very understated nature of its outward appearance. Once inside, however, they could rely on dim lighting, except for the spotlights on the show floor, plush carpeting, and a thrumming, insistent, vibrating bass line that seemed to capture the very rhythm of sex. And sex was very casually on sale to femme at Specimens, as it was at a wide variety of other clubs around town. And so here they were, Brooke, Holly, and Penelope, finding seats at a table in the dark to watch a series of beautiful boys rhythmically strip out of outfits that Penelope thought were already skimpy.

Penelope liked watching gorgeous boys, a sheen of oil on their flawless golden or ebony bodies, gyrate and lewdly thrust their hips -- she was healthy femme and for her age she had normal appetites -- but something about the whole sex-for-sale vibe embarrassed her. She didn't feel the same freedom to give in to her lustful urges as Brooke and Holly did. Was it the commercialization? Was it the tiresome assumption that as a good femme in a privileged family she should enjoy prostitutes because society condoned it, even encouraged it?

Brooke told her once, as she and Holly were headed out on the town, leaving Penelope at home, "I don't understand why you don't enjoy yourself more, Pen. You might not get their seed, but so what? Think of it as a shopping trip -- if you find a buck who is a lot of fun and dreamy to look at, maybe he can be a full time boy toy. You've got deep pockets, and they all know it. It's crude but it's true, what they say -- 'Crush, enjoy, thank you boy.' Please, you have to fix your thinking -- you're not going take any of these boys in wedlock, let's face it. And obviously, in a few years, you'll be getting premium sperm from Grandma, to get a strong, perfect daughter. Wedlock is great for femme who can afford it, and you'll be one of them. Give it time, Pen. Your life's ahead of you."

Brooke's advice was surprisingly close to Penelope's grandmother's, the daunting Lady Elsa Gynogarde. Penelope never talked to Grandmother about marriage though. Grandma Gynogarde was constantly distracted by her husbands and concubines, and to a surprising degree. She always told Penelope to wait until she'd matured into a proper noblefemme, had her 60th birthday at least, and find the right virgin boy who's looking for security, who'll give you devotion and full use of his perfect, firm body. And she said maybe we'll compare notes, because odds are, I'll still be alive too! You better not take any of the boys I want!

At their table in the Specimens club, the bass rhythm shook Penelope's insides, and she realized she was a bit dizzy from drink. She'd already finished one champagne at the club and was working on her second -- this was in addition to the wine she'd had at home. The music seemed to gain volume as one of the strippers danced in sensual rhythm right up to their table during his act. He'd already thrown his sweaty loincloth to the crowd, so was now clad only in a narrow leather collar around his neck and matching bands around his wrists. He showed off his quite large, quite erect endowment in a private show at their table. Only it wasn't private at all; it seemed that femme from almost all the other tables were watching. Brooke and Holly were at the bottom of this, Penelope realized, but didn't quite know what to do when the impossibly gorgeous dark-haired boy danced and gyrated directly next to her. Brooke and Holly were both giggling and laughing now, watching her in her predicament. They'd paid him and put him up to it, obviously, and now, much to Penelope's deep embarrassment, femme at other tables began to yell, "Don't be shy like a cock!" and "Grab that sweet ass, young femme!" and "Whoo! Crush that boy! He'll give it ALL up!"

He had a very sexy sheen of oil all over his body, and Penelope noticed his beautiful, square shoulders, and his arms had a long-muscled, lean definition to them. Penelope watched the beguiling, sensual way he moved those perfect arms -- nothing very aggressive, but a subtle and graceful suggestion of self-embrace, his hands roaming over his tapering torso and his thighs and ass. His eyes closed as he mimed giving pleasure to himself. In fact, he had a way of moving his sexy, long-fingered hands near and around his amazingly hard cock that emphasized it without touching it, showing it off to great effect. The pounding music slowed down to an impossibly sexy stride rhythm, and the boy's dancing slowed with it. He showed off his balletic hands and wrists even more suggestively now, and fixed his dark eyes on Penelope's. She could feel her moisture, knew her arousal had been building since his table-side performance started. With a flutter in her gut, she imagined taking this boy, dominating him, making him follow her orders, making him satisfy her whims. While not knowing exactly where the impulse came from -- a big part of it may have been Brooke's advice, and she knew part of it was showing her friends finally that she had it in her -- wherever it came from, it excited her immensely, and the exuberant excitement surprised her. It seemed suddenly like it was overdue, and the moisture between her legs seconded her thoughts.

Something had moved within her. She'd never imagined taking charge, didn't know if she knew how. She'd seen it enough times in porn, but putting herself into that role felt unnatural, like she would be faking it. But that thought process seemed outdated tonight. When would be a better time, she thought. She would be leaving in the morning, what better way to leave the big city behind, to announce to herself and the world she was now going to take charge? Her butterflies hit her again and now her pussy was very wet, soaking.

Still dancing so sexily, hips going back and forth, causing his sturdy erection to wobble about lewdly, as if reading her mind he said, "You look regal tonight, my Lady. So strong and powerful." And quieter, close to her ear, "Let me be your loyal subject tonight, my Queen, your whims will be my command....Please let me please you!"

The drink...the catcalls from other tables...her conniving friends...none of them could see her brand-new assertiveness, her face betrayed nothing. And Oh! Let's not forget this boy right here, with his hard cock shaking and waving around as he danced. She squirmed just the littlest bit in her seat, and felt her full wetness. She stood up and the boy took her hand to lead her away, and the femme in the room erupted in cheering, applauding, and whooping in delight. Only last night Penelope would have felt embarrassed and ashamed, but tonight was different. Tonight she gave herself permission to be in charge.

The cheers of the crowd faded as they walked down a dimly lit curving stairway near the stage. They could still feel the muffled constant bass line, however. She was glad they'd chosen this particular club. Its reputation for cleanliness gave her some comfort, when some of the other clubs she'd been to...she didn't want to think about them. Penelope found she liked the feeling of this boy's hand in hers. It was an unusual personal touch that not all boys gave. They reached the bottom of the stairway and entered a dark, narrow hallway. "My name's Ashley," he said, his wobbling cock still visible in the very dim light.

"I'm Penelope," she said as they stopped at a door.

He looked up at her -- the top of his head was about level with her chin -- and said, "What a distinguished name, a classic!...I hope I don't sound too trite when I say, it's a strong name for a regal, powerful lady."

"Mmm," Penelope said, "it sounds a little rote, actually."

With an embarrassed little shrug he opened the door and they entered a small room only slightly brighter than the hallway. There was a low rectangular table immediately on the left, and a long couch against the far wall. On the right was a luxurious-looking chair upholstered in leather. Its seat was unusually low, and slanted down toward the rear.

Penelope became accustomed to the low, soft lighting. Feeling nervous, but wanting to press forward with her new impulse to command  -- she held him by the back of his head and brought him into a kiss. After the first soft contact, she pressed her tongue past his lips and felt suddenly ravenous for his body. Ashley, quite surprised, gave in to her newfound assertiveness, until he broke the kiss off.

He cleared his throat slightly and said, "Most ladies don't kiss us boys on the lips..."

"Why not?" she asked. "Is there something wrong with it?" She kissed him again, warming quickly to the new role she'd chosen. Setting the tone in this situation gave her arousal a boost, affecting her gut, which gave a shivery tremble, and her vagina, where she could feel her generous fluids.

He didn't appear to mind the kissing too much. He said, "It's...it's unusually intimate...somehow inappropriate with strangers. It's not traditional..."

She again took the initiative, holding his hard, upward-pointing cock and kissing him on the throat, and trailing kisses around his neck. "You realize that's funny, don't you, Ashley?" She continued kissing him. "That something could be too intimate for two people in our situation?"

He breathed more quickly now, under her handling of his erection and her roaming kissing. "Yes," he breathed, "funny..." In a moment he said, "My Lady obviously wants to dictate our relationship, and it's only right. OH!" he said, as she handled his over-sensitive cock. "Please tell me how to serve you, My Lady, I will submit to whatever you desire."

"Oh, you will?!" She kept on. "Tell me, pretty boy, what is that lovely chair used for?" She knew the answer perfectly well but wanted to hear Ashley's submissive explanation. She loved these new instincts.  She was already getting used to them, feeling their power and excitement. This was a lot more fun than she'd ever had before.

As she worked her hand on the tip of his tense cock, he said, "I -- AH -- MM! -- it's for boys to adore femme at Dibella's portal of pleasure! Does My Lady wish for me to adore her?"

"Tell me you adore me, Ashley. Tell me how submissive and devoted you are to your Queen, and how you wish her to join in Dibella's paradise." Some of the things coming out of her mouth felt so right, so exciting. Ashley had a perfect body, in Penelope's opinion. His torso was sleek but defined, not overly muscled. His hands were expressive, with long fingers -- there was almost something dainty about them. His cock -- Penelope had already estimated him at 21-22 cm, with a good healthy circumference, rather bigger than average. She loved the visual of its slight upward curve and well snipped tip. And well, his face was too fine by half, Penelope thought. He was exceedingly handsome. Being in charge of this stunning boy made her mad for sex. She needed fulfillment.

"Or better yet, Ashley," she said, "show me how you adore me. Now!" She stood in front of the chair facing him.

"Of course! If my Liege Lady would care to sit here," he said, "I will help remove your panties, so..." She cast aside her momentary concern about her leaking fluids, which she could tell had only increased with the new role she was playing. She lifted the hem of her long skirt up and higher up, until the kneeling Ashley found the panties and slid them down and off. "And I should say, noble femme, your stern orders would make any boy want to serve you with his whole body."

"You certainly are a -- OH!" Penelope's remark became a sudden gasp as Ashley's mouth met her cunt in a full-on kiss. Penelope's hands came instinctively to the fat flesh on either side of her vulva and split it apart. Ashley now had clear access and could demonstrate his skill, which he had carefully honed in his almost two years in the sex trade. Specimens was known to treat their sex workers well, but they were in turn expected to provide the very best service. It was well known among the femme of the city that if you wanted reliably excellent cunnilingus, Specimens was the place to go.

If you asked her, Penelope would say of course it was silly, thinking that Ash had become devoted to her in the short minutes they'd known each other. But submissive devotion is exactly where Penelope's mind went when she felt his glorious -- Oh, his incredible, tongue! He stroked her wet lips, he kissed the nub of her emerging clit, he bathed her quim in love. Yes, she knew it. In that lust-filled, liquor-colored moment, Ashley totally fell under her spell. He made good on his promise to serve -- oh Goddess! did he! He demonstrated his faithful devotion with repeated licks and kisses, plunging his tongue deep inside her and touching points no boy had ever reached before.

She imagined he was worshipping her immortal Dibellan soul. He drove her, with each gentle kiss, and each vigorous stroke of his tongue, toward nirvana. And his attentions themselves, these were her due. At last, she was given a worship session worthy of the name. Perhaps she was more comfortable tonight than she ever had been, perhaps it was Ash's skill, but Oh Goddess Dibella, this...THIS was what all the fuss was about. When she thought of how Ash bound himself to her, dedicated himself to her holy fulfillment, of how he'd picked her out of the whole room full of cheering, boisterous, horny femme, HER! He'd gravitated to her, and she accepted his intimate devotions, granted his desperate desire to love her, to deliver her to a higher consciousness. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought of Dibella's wisdom in preaching and anointing such joy.

She passed her point of no return; she knew a crashing orgasm was upon her. She squealed and yelled as her body convulsed, the delicious mouth on her, the glorious, crashing peak ramming through her. "OH! -- OH! -- AH!" her massive body shook, completely out of control, as each clenching wave hit her. Her breathing was a desperate series of gasps; her hands held Ash's gorgeous face against her as she shook and quivered in her peak. In a few seconds, breathing desperately hard, her shaking and quivering slowed. Her breathing, more like wheezing, began slowly to return to her...She bent forward, her head was above the kneeling Ashley's. She still held it in her hands. Between her breaths she said, "Oh, Ash...oh, Ash...you angel...oh, no one ever...ever made me feel...so loved, so..." She let go of his head as she murmured to him.

He stood and went to the low couch and hit a button. The seat slid forward a few inches and the back settled into its horizontal position alongside. Ashley lay on his back, his erection proudly standing, pulsing a little as it tipped toward his torso. He extended a hand to Penelope. Ash felt pride in her reaction to his worship; she seemed so touched. He sensed that her enjoyment was new to her, and he decided to make tonight a spectacular memory. He said, "Come to me, my Lady. Take your servant's offering. Take his devotion deep inside you." He could barely believe the words he'd weaved for this date, but just now, it became part of his act, part of his service. It came from nowhere but the moment.

As absurd as it was, something about Penelope's innocent, wide-eyed appreciation of his service appeared to puff him up with pride.

She looked over as he held his excellent endowment straight up with its pretty curve, and she walked to the bed. Ash said, "Oh, my Lady, yes, sit astride me. You may --" He was about to guide her but she didn't need any guidance. She raised herself up and, holding his tumescent cock in place, plunged her soaking pussy full length onto Ash's beautiful submissive offering.

Oh, the sweet, fulfilling sensation of a hard cock sliding into her needy core. Suddenly even Ash the pretty buck faded into the background. Penelope's demanding urges were all that mattered. Ash was there now as a simple tool, a conduit. This electrifying discovery rivaled even that of Ash's lips and tongue.

Her pussy sheathed the entire length of Ash's big, beautiful cock until she ground her clit against the base of his hardness, and his pubic bone. "OH!" she cried at the pure sensual pleasure, and the thrill of taking everything a boy could offer -- so this was how it was supposed to feel! It all came from taking charge, dominating whoever the partner was, that was the key. Now she was no longer confused about it. It could have been Ash, it could have been almost any other beautiful buck. Now there was a new dimension to Penelope's sexual life.

Beneath her, Ash egged her on. "Oh! Yesss, domina! Take your simple buck. I'm here for your pleasure. Just take this hard cock as your own! MM!" Now she would join the ranks of all the other femme who wanted what was on offer, and delight in taking it. She pressed her lips to Ash's, and aggressively plunged her tongue deep into his surrendering mouth. She thrust her hips and her haunches in torrid strokes against his stiff offering, relishing every delicious stroke. She had to break off her kiss -- the passion was too much. She needed to breathe, her wet plunging against him went on, and her clit greeted each pounding stroke with a new throb of ecstasy. Her thrusting increased in speed and energy, her breathing more and more desperate, and she knew she would come, knew it with a certainty that just made her thrusting more determined.