The Fireworks Continue: Part 2
By
Sonya (sonyakininski@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: If you are under 18 or offended by graphic depictions of lesbian sexuality with a sadomasochistic theme, please go elsewhere. Otherwise feel free to email feedback. This is a fictional continuation of the story begun by "Holiday Fireworks."
Part 2
I sat, spent, on the edge of my bed, musing. It was late afternoon. The idea of a pet lying in wait for me stirred up my lust even though I had just been sated. In some strange way I felt closer to the absent Alex. I felt as if I were Jen, subdued and exhilarated by a sadistically sexy Mistress, that I was both Jen and Alex simultaneously somehow... I grew confused.
It was disgusting enough to admit to the sick pleasures of being slapped and toyed with, fucked and humiliated, but it was even more disgusting, I thought, to be the sadistic bitch who meted out such alluring punishments. What kind of person was I really?
I had friends, good friends; I was generous, giving, loving, affectionate to them and to family. I didn't steal or gossip or willfully hurt anyone in my public life. And yet how could I reconcile that person with the imperiously cruel woman who had slapped her friend, spat in her face, bound and gagged her into total submission and thrilled at the fact of her being completely at my mercy? I saw the protests, the glint of fear in her eyes, but I also saw the excited gleam of obeisant joy. I saw Jen's hardness melt away, saw the craving for a commanding hand as I myself had craved one.
I needed to take a walk, to clear my head, to come to my senses, so I threw on a light white linen minidress and sandals. I kept on my white lace bra but forsook my panties: I wanted the cool air to waft along my thighs and to play about my wet pussy as I walked.
I emerged from my bedroom and knelt by my docile new pet. Jen was languorously calm, bound as she was, and I removed the scarf from her mouth to kiss her. She returned my kiss with surprising fervor and I caressed her luscious body as she purred in contentment.
"You must be hungry," I said.
"Mmmmm," she replied.
"Not for me, silly!" I playfully rejoined. "I'm going to get us something a little more filling, if less pleasurable, to eat."
"Whatever you wish, Mistress," Jen whispered sultrily.
"You're awfully sweet," I replied. Jen smiled and I couldn't resist another passionate kiss. Power was a heady aphrodisiac: my lust grew. Jen's face was fine-featured, almost chiseled; her dark eyes were riveting, her lips full and soft. Yes, she was beautiful, not merely attractive, but beautiful.
"I want to make sure you're comfortable while I'm gone," I said.
I gagged her again effortlessly and unfastened the scarf that held her raised foot to the rear sofa leg and used it to tie her ankles together fairly closely.
Then I untied the scarf holding her other foot to the front leg. I also detached the scarf stretching her hands over her head and momentarily unfastened her wrists. I took the detached silk scarf and tied it around her lovely narrow waist and then righted her. She was sitting up for me, completely docile, and I had the impulse to slap her again, but I refrained. Instead I rather roughly pulled her hands behind her back and bound her wrists and further bound them to the scarf around her waist.
"Now, get on your knees, my sweet little cunt, and let me guide you to the bathroom."
She complied as I grabbed a fistful of hair and led her to the loo, where she relieved herself. It took at least a minute, no doubt because of the alcohol she had imbibed, and I wiped the traces of pee from her pretty privates for her and eased her again to her knees.
I couldn't believe how pretty she seemed, how kitten-like, how... grateful. This wasn't a new person: no, this was the person I had dimly secretly somehow knew from all our dance classes together, all our little talks, all the clues, all the bitching about her husband, all her prurient interest in me and Alex.
She simply and purely loved women, and was discovering it rather late, like me.
Jen taught English in a private junior high school and I imagined the effect she must have had on her students, male and female -- and the effect they had on her. I wondered how she fantasized about them, those nubile 13 and 14 year olds, and about the restraint it must have taken. Maybe that's where the hardness came in, the hardness as a necessary facade, without which she might have acted on impulse and jeopardized her career, not to mention her entire life! Yes, I bet she would beg to be set upon by her young students, and to set upon them...
As I mused I was guiding Jen slowly into my carpeted bedroom. The effects of her drinking had mostly worn off but I assumed she'd be tired again after our pleasures.
"Are you sleepy, darling?" I asked.
She nodded.
"And thirsty too, I bet," I replied. Again she assented.
I returned with a shallow bowl of water and set it at my feet before removing her gag. She leaned over without hesitation and started lapping, my good little pet, until I nudged the bowl over with my foot to spill the little that remained. And I waited.
Without direction Jen moved her head down and kissed the arch of my right foot. Her dark hair hung about her face and covered my foot and I could feel her soft lips and exquisite tongue and caught my breath as she kissed and imperceptibly licked along my insole and ankle and calf. She sent amazingly erotic shivers through me!
"Good girl," I said affectionately, "good sweet slut."
Then I lifted her head up forcibly and replaced the gag. I moved her to my bed, her back to its footboard, untied her wrists and retied them to each of the bedposts. She was on her knees, ankles bound tightly to each other. Her arms were stretched sideways and suspended by my scarves, and she was gagged. If she wished she could rise up a bit and lean forward and let her luscious breasts dangle, or simply rest her firm ass on the backs of her bound legs. I decided to fasten her bound ankles also to the lower legs of the bed, and finally to blindfold her.
She looked divine. I could scarcely contain myself, scarcely imagine how aroused the sight of this willing "womanly" young beauty would make me. Part of me wished to pinch and slap and hear her grateful muffled moans, part of me to lick and stroke and stoke the fires of her own lust to a point that became unbearable... All the while MY pussy grew wetter and wetter, my throat drier and drier with pure yearning. She was mine: she knew it, and I knew it, and we both loved it.
I checked myself: I needed to walk, to think, to make things clearer.
I knelt down before Jen and whispered in her ear, softly: "You are such a pretty bitch... I can hardly keep my hands off you, Jen," I said. "But I'm going to go out for a bit, love, and while I'm gone I want you to think of how naughty it was for you to come here drunk and make those really unkind comments about lesbians. So think hard about that, and about how my sweet slutty lesbian pet deserves to be reprimanded."
The air was cool and my head swam as I meandered aimlessly through the park and along the river. Many people were about but I hardly noticed them. Eventually I landed in a cafe and ordered a latte and a container of sliced fresh fruit -- strawberries, grapes, melon -- to take out. As I sipped my coffee I kept thinking about the willing helpless Jen, wishing to be her, wishing more fervently for Alex never to have left me. But this strange new sensation of complete control filled and excited and worried me too. I decided to have another coffee, to let Jen experience what I had when Alex left me dangling that fateful last day of our encounter, waiting, wondering, worrying, anticipating... Her lovely breasts called out to me, so much fuller than my own, so ripe, but I determined not to abuse them the way Alex had mine. The clamps she had used left my nipples sore for weeks afterwards, no doubt to serve as a reminder of her. No, I would surpass my once and former Mistress in the delicacy of my `torture'.
I had been gone for about 2 hours. Jen sighed when I entered the bedroom. I removed the scarf from her mouth and proferred strawberries, which she greedily consumed. Yes, I had her eating out of my hand. I stroked her hair as she fed and I took the juice that dribbled from the corners of her mouth and spread it around her breasts. I bit into a strawberry and slid the uneaten half up and down her cunt's swollen slit. The sudden chill caused a shudder.
I stood and whisked off my dress. My pussy was so wet, so wet... I rubbed a piece of melon along it and gave it to Jen to savor and I pressed her juice-covered mouth to my pussy and she licked me tenderly. I was in a special kind of heaven, a beautiful slave at my feet ready to be taken, ready to tend to any erotic wish.
"Jen," I said, "it's Saturday night...I'm going to keep you here with me until tomorrow afternoon. Do you need to make any phone calls?"
"No, Mistress."
"You can call me Sonya for now."
"No, Sonya."
"Good."
"How do you feel?"
"Wonderful, Sonya."
"And sober?"
"Yes," she giggled. "I drank because I was afraid."
"And now, are you afraid now?" I asked.
"No, Sonya."
"Maybe you should be."
"I want to please you, Sonya, I can't believe how good it feels to please you. I think you're ravishing."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, dear pet," I replied. "And I think you're beautiful too, and I want to take my time with you. And of course you need to be punished for your naughtiness."
"Yes." I could smell her excitement.
"You've been very naughty, haven't you?"
"Yes, Sonya."
"You made me very angry, especially that crack about lesbians."
"I'm sorry, Sonya."
I untied the long scarves that linked her ankles and wrists to the bedposts and bade her rise, still blindfolded. I took her juice-coated nipples into my mouth very delicately and Jen sighed. I then led her onto my bed. Because of her bound ankles she was forced to move very slowly. I pushed her over the side of the bed and lifted her knees so that she was on all fours. I took the scarves dangling from her wrists and bound her hands tightly behind her back and fastened them to the scarf around her waist. The side of her face rested on a pillow near the head of the bed.
I ran my left hand along her smoothly muscled back and then abruptly brought my right hand sharply across her rounded firm delectable ass, leaving a red imprint.
"Ooooh," cooed Jen.
I repeated the blow and she quivered and cooed again. My hand hurt from the force of the slaps, so I quickly retrieved a hairbrush from my dresser. I slowly pressed the soft bristles along the crack of her ass and into her pussy. Jen wriggled involuntarily with pleasure.
Very deliberately I took a handful of hair in my left hand and lifted Jen's head up off the pillow. With my right hand I brought the flat side of the wooden brush against her lovely buttocks.
"Oh!" she yelped.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"No, Mistress," she replied.
I slid the brush along the upper outside part of her right thigh and then brought it sharply down causing her to recoil and yelp again.
"Do you know how to count, slut?" I inquired.
"Yes, Mistress," Jen said meekly.
"Can you count backwards from 21?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Good girl. I'm very fond of mathematicians...and mathematicians like challenges, don't they?"
"Yes..."
"Well, your challenge will be to keep count as each of my loving strokes gets harder and harder. Do you think you can do that, bitch?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Start counting."
I swung and smacked her squarely in the middle of her buttocks.
"21!"
I roughly pulled her hair and spanked my lovely pet harder and harder. By "15" her ass was completely red. I waited for the sharp stinging to subside after each blow, and each blow became more and more intense, as did Jen's reactions. Her breathing quickened and she writhed uncontrollably, but she kept the count. Her pussy was wetter and wetter, too, the slut. I coated the flat side of the brush with her pussy juice and continued to spank her fiercely. Her counts became cries and shrieks. My final blow landed in between her buttocks and caught her pussy lips.
"One!!!" Jen screamed, and as I released my hold on her hair her face fell into the pillows. She was sobbing and heaving as I removed the blindfold now wet with her tears. I stroked her cheek.
"Are these tears of gratitude or hurt, bitch?" I asked.
"Both, Mistress," Jen quietly replied.
"Just as they should be," I said. "Let's try not to be so naughty."
"No, Mistress," she sobbed.
"Good. Now I suppose you'd like to thank me, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Of course you would."
I unbound her ankles and spread her legs and pulled her feet towards the posts of the footboard. Her wet cunt was deliciously open and I ran my hand across it and had her lick my fingers. I loved working the scarves. As I tied and untied I never failed to stroke and caress a part of her lovely body. The tying and untying of knots became a mesmerizing ritual for me and a way of enhancing her excitement too.
My own pussy was dripping with desire, aching for attention, yet I knew I had to exercise restraint. I slid onto the bed and pushed a pillow under my hard smooth butt and drew Jen's face into my crotch by her hair. I lifted my legs upwards and backwards.
"Now, my sweet little bitch, thank your Mistress properly: I want your lovely grateful tongue in my ass, and I want you to stay away from my pussy unless I tell you otherwise."
I pulled Jen's face harshly towards my anus and her tongue sought out and reached my nether-bud. She circled it and swathed it and prodded it and now it was my turn to purr. I pulled her head rhythmically into me and she made her tongue rigid and poked it into my anus, deeper and deeper with each stroke.
"Lick your Mistress's ass, you slut, lick it!" I commanded. Jen licked, and sucked, and prodded, and fucked my sensitive nether-hole with her warm soft tongue and lips. I loved it, I loved her...But when her tongue strayed upwards grazing my yearning cunt I quickly recoiled and smacked her mouth. She was drunk, but not with alcohol: she was drunk with submissive pleasure. I eased my anus to her lips again and she resumed her exquisite ministrations. Then I pulled away again, becoming a bit frenzied.
I slid backwards toward the headboard and as she watched I began to massage my pussy, to press my clit, to finger my sopping clit. The sight of her prostrate body being denied the pleasure of pleasing me made me hotter and hotter.
"I want you to watch, you bitch -- you have to earn the right to please me."
So saying I kept my legs lewdly spread and worked my hands and finger into my pussy, and I came. Jen suffered: I knew how fervently she wished to be the instrument of my orgasmic explosion, how fervently she yearned for that power over her new Mistress, how fervently she herself wished to be licked and fucked. But I wanted her to wait, to appreciate her privileges. Her night was over. After massaging her sore buttocks with baby oil I left her bound and frustrated and face-down on my bed while I arose to leave.
"Good night, slut," I whispered.
"Please, Mistress!"
"Please what?"
"Please touch me, please don't go, please touch me or let me touch you, let me lick you and kiss you wherever you wish!"
"I'll think about it. Good night."
"You're a bitch!" Jen screamed. "How can you treat me like this? Please! You fucking bitch I want you! I want you, Sonya!"
"I know you do," I replied softly, closing the bedroom door.
End of Part 2. Feedback welcome: sonyakininski@yahoo.com