This is a story about the sexual awakening of a young woman. If you either; A) aren't into that, B) aren't old enough to be reading it, or C) can't read, you should really stop here. If you liked (or hated) this story, drop us a line at ybother1122@yahoo.com. Don't take anything you read here too seriously, we certainly didn't.
Heather sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and closed her eyes while Denise brushed her hair. Denise leaned over to kiss the back of Heather's neck.
Denise was already dressed -- sort of. She wore a short tank dress and it looked like she should be wearing something else underneath it. Its knit was so loose it reminded Heather of one of her mother's macrame plant hangers, and she could clearly see Denise's tanned, toned skin, the full curve of her breasts underneath. When she moved, one of her erect nipples poked through the loose stitch of the knit, and Heather couldn't help but to lean in and grab it between her lips.
"Mmmm...stop for a minute. I got you a present," she whispered into Heather's ear. "Close your eyes."
Heather flopped backward on the bed and covered her eyes with her hands. She could hear Denise digging through bags in the closet.
"Keep them closed. No peeking!" More rustling of paper bags, then Heather felt Denise's hands on her bare knees, creeping up her thighs. Denise tugged Heather's tee shirt to expose her soft, flat abdomen, which she covered with kisses.
"Keep them closed," Denise whispered, as she pulled Heather's tee shirt up and off. Heather felt something soft, almost like air, brush across her skin.
"Open them now."
She looked up at Denise, who was smiling, then looked down, and saw that Denise had laid a dress on top of her.
"Put it on."
Heather got up off the bed and peeled off her shorts. She'd given up on wearing panties days ago. She slipped the dress over her head, and it fell perfectly on her. She looked in the mirror and admired herself for a moment. She felt naked, not only because the dress was short, falling to the middle of her thigh, and it was so light she could barely feel it, she could see through the ice blue fabric.
"Beautiful," Denise said. "You'll look beautiful tonight. Everyone will want you."
Denise's compliments were weightier than anyone else's, and Heather could feel her cheeks flush. Denise stood behind Heather, looking over her shoulder to watch her reflection.
"Is that OK if everyone wants you?" Denise asked, reaching her arms around the girl and tracing the shadow of her breasts.
Heather giggled.
"I guess that's OK."
Downstairs, guests were talking and laughing. Outside, at the edge of the beach, a group of naked guests had left their clothes and sandals on the sand while they splashed in the waves. Out on the deck, a perfect pink sunset cast perfect pink light on a perfectly chiseled shirtless bartender with a perfectly ripped and tanned abdomen perfectly mixed drinks, and he shook up a perfect Manhattan for Denise before asking Heather what she wanted.
She had never ordered a drink -- they had always been handed to her, and she never had to think about what she wanted. The first thing that came to her mind was one of those pretty pink cocktails from Sex and the City, and she said, "I'd like a Cosmopolitan."
It didn't taste pink when she sipped on it, but after she had sucked down her second, she acquired a taste for them.
In the great room, she talked to Kitten, who was sipping a bottle of water, and Heather felt suddenly self-conscious of the growing liquor buzz. She tried to make small talk.
"So, how did you meet Catherine?" she asked.
"We met through the Service," Kitten said.
"Service?"
"The Service connects subs with doms throughout the Northern Hemisphere. She contracted with them and I fit her profile," she said. "We interviewed and she took me on."
"Took you on?"
Kitten took a swig of her water, "I am her Kitten. I am her pet. I am naked at all times in her home and I do what she wants."
Heather coughed up her last swallow of her drink, "Whatever she wants?"
"There are things she demands. There are plenty of times when she orders me out of the limousine to pick up a copy of the Post in the nude, that's pretty ordinary. A lot of times she serves canapes off of my abdomen and thighs when she has a party at her house. But what I've found is that it's intuition."
"Intuition?"
"Yes," Kitten said. "I need to know what she wants before she asks for it. I need to know, right off the bat when she walks in the door, whether she wants a silent partner, the tearful submissive or the affection of an equal. It's tricky. You've really got to watch to know what to do."
Heather was half horrified, half intrigued. She wondered what kind of life was entailed in waiting on the sexual needs of another person. She could barely contain the flood of questions.
Kitten interrupted her reverie, "The Service sends a conditioning team every week. They check on me, give me tips on beauty care and usually make me come like a schoolgirl three times before they leave."
"That's nice," Heather said, for lack of anything else to say.
"The Congress-level healthcare, 401k and $150,000 a year tax-free are part of the contract."
She introduced Heather to Rose, and deeply tanned and obviously wealthy American woman in her mid-40s, and Rose's companion, James, also American, but in his late 20s. Heather was sure that if Denise were there, she'd have whispered something about Rose having had "work" done, and would have suggested she might have gone a cup size smaller when she had her implants and lift.
Instead, Kitten whispered in her ear.
"James is like me," she told Heather, who had no idea what she meant.
"You know -- he works for Rose."
Kitten stopped talking suddenly and her ears perked up even before she heard Catherine call for her. Without a word, Kitten just walked away to see what Catherine needed, and Heather found standing alone with her cocktail, in a room full of unfamiliar people. She watched their mouths as they spoke in languages she didn't understand. She looked toward the stairway and watched as a pretty young blonde woman kiss a dark-skinned woman with very short hair and enormous silver hoop earrings. On the sofa, the admiral kissed a busty topless redhead who sat beside the admiral's wife, who was busying herself in a deep kiss with a dark-haired man Heather hadn't seen before this evening.
She felt someone grab her behind and she gasped and turned quickly to see Steven standing there, his free hand on Denise's shoulder.
"Having a good time?" he asked and Heather felt better because she knew he was also a little lightheaded from alcohol. Steven rubbed her ass a little more firmly.
"This is a great dress," he said. "And this is a great ass. Denise, isn't this a great ass?"
"Mmm hmmm." Denise nodded. "Very nice."
"Isn't this a great ass?" Steven asked again, and an unfamiliar voice said, "Oh yes, wery, wery nice."
"You really need to feel this," Steven told the man. Heather didn't turn to see whose hands were on her, but she could feel herself grow warm from the stranger's touch, as he pushed the fabric of her dress up and down against her otherwise bare behind.
Denise stood in front of Heather, and reached for her face with both hands before kissing her.
"Have fun, dear," she said, then grabbed Steven's hand and headed out to the patio.
The stranger had wrapped one arm around Heather's waist, and she pressed her ass against his bare thigh.
He whispered in her ear. "Oh you like that, do you? You like to be pet, yes?" He pushed her dress up past her waist and he moved a hand down to slide a finger between her moist warm folds. "Oh yes, you do like that."
The other hand reached for a breast, still covered by the light blue dress and she pressed harder against his thigh. A quiet moan was building in her belly and slipped out of her mouth.
"Tell me what you vant," the stranger said. "Just tell me."
She couldn't believe what came out of her mouth next. "Fuck me."
She fell to her knees and buried her face into the soft white carpet, her hair falling onto her forearms. She heard his shorts fall to the floor and could see his knees hit the carpet right behind her, and pushed his cock against the back of her thigh.
"Tell me again," he said, pressing harder.
She wasn't sure if it was the liquor talking or if it was the lust or it was the bare skin of strangers but she said it again. "Fuck me."
She felt his hands on her waist and he pushed his thick cock inside her. "So tight," he told her. "Yes, that's nice. You like that don't you?"
It struck her as odd for a moment that he couldn't call her by name if he wanted to and he had not yet seen her face. And she hadn't seen his. He was just hands on her skin and a cock pushing inside her. But she loved the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands on her waist. He let go to rub her ass, which she pushed harder toward him. "Oh yes, you vant it rough, don't you?"
"Uh-huh," was all she could manage, so he pushed deeper. Harder. Faster inside her. She could feel the tension build inside her but his built faster, and she heard him moan as he grabbed her waist again and pushed himself into her so hard it hurt.
"Oh yesssss," he said, but she thought, Oh noooo.
Until she saw two tanned pedicured feet in front of her. She looked up to see Denise, holding hands with a man. Tall, 30-ish, naked and apparently aroused.
"I thought you might be ready for more, so I brought you another present," Denise said, and she dropped the man's hand and headed back outside.
The man lay flat on his back, his erection pointed desperately toward the ceiling. He spoke to Heather, but in a language she didn't understand. He motioned toward his cock with his hands, and she understood -- it needed to be dealt with.
She lay on her back next to him, but he didn't move. She had expected him to climb on top of her, but he motioned again toward his turgid cock.
She got on her knees and kneeled between his legs, and licked the underside of his cock, but he grabbed her hair and spoke the only word of English he knew: "No."
Heather slid her body up along his thigh, and as her breasts brushed against his cock, he moaned. She knew what he wanted. He tugged at her dress, pulling it up and off, and she straddled him, letting her warm wetness rub lightly against his member, and he closed his eyes and smiled.
She lowered herself onto him and he let out another moan. Slowly, she rocked, grinding her self against him. He put his hands on her thighs and squeezed hard. Even though she didn't understand what he said, the tone of his voice begged her not to stop.
He was beautiful, she thought -- fair haired and angular. Dark eyes and long limbs. And he was ready to finish what the first stranger had started.
She rocked slowly, unsure of what she wanted, and totally clueless about what he was feeling, but as his breathing grew faster and he pushed his ass up from the floor to drive deeper into her, she knew she was pleasing him as much as herself.
She moved faster, shifted her hips and pressed her hands hard on his shoulders. He reached around her, his hands on the small of her back pulling her down toward him until her breasts were over his face. She brushed a nipple against his lips, and he opened his mouth. She moved side to side and finally fed him a breast, while she continued to grind harder against him.
The tension that had built in her before grew, and she could feel herself getting close, so close to release.
She couldn't speak but her moans escalated to near screams. Only when she pulled her nipple from his mouth and lifted her head to look around did she realize that a small circle of guests had gathered around them. Most merely watched. She saw a dark-haired man from the corner of her eye. His shorts lay in front of him and his large hands moved slowly over his erect cock as he watched Heather and the stranger.
His body was thick, and his wavy hair had just enough gray to tell Heather he was old enough to be her father. His eyes fixed on her, soaking in the sight of her breasts, high and small and bouncing, and her ass, firm and fresh and newly suntanned.
Unlike the night on the beach, Heather knew now that people were watching her, and that fed her arousal. She looked the dark haired man with his cock in his hand, directly in the eye, and moved her hips faster until she shuddered and cried out. The stranger beneath her pulled her down hard on him, and let out a moan at the same time, but Heather didn't wait for his body to stop shaking before she rolled herself off him, and lay flat on her back beside him.
She looked directly at the dark haired man, who was still stroking his cock, and said, "You -- I want you next."
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