"Humbling, Part 5"
by GrandMoff
This is a fictional story, intended as entertainment. It involves sex between women, i.e. (F/F...) There's also domination in this story--though it will take a form you probably aren't used to seeing. If this offends you, or you can't legally view this, please don't read the story. Any resemblance between these characters and anyone is coincidental.
Sitting in one of the shopping centers bar-and-grill-type restaurants, I saw my companion's coloring returning to normal. She still had a faint odor of sex about her, but I'd done well cleaning her after her monumental orgasm; the average passerby wouldn't have suspected what had happened so recently in the perfumier's shop. Or would one suspect? She did have a wide, inexplicable grin.
I let my shoes drop from my feet and ran my left foot up the inside of her right leg. I removed it. A second later, I ran my right foot up the inside of her left leg, at the same slow speed, stopping at the same height, just a few cm from her crotch. She was fun to watch: torn between enjoying my massage and worrying that someone would notice what was happening.
I stopped, glad to see both relief and disappointment on her face. I wanted to give her time to think about things other than sex, so she would be freshly surprised when I implemented my next tactic. "The new fragrances suit you quite well, so make sure you wear one or the other on days you and I will be together," I commanded.
"Mistress, won't a slave see you every day from this point?"
I had to be careful. I was quite correct about Aurora's nature; she was getting attached very fast. I had to be gentle, but I had to make sure she didn't associate me with her failed relationships in anyway, and that meant I would have to mix just the right amount of harshness into my reply. "Clingy much?" I laughed. "I know you'd like to see me every day, but this is life. Things don't always go our way. You've got your job, I've got mine; you've got your friends, your amusements, I've got mine."
Had I been too abrasive with that answer? Time would tell, but she looked discouraged. Better that than uninterested, I thought. Besides, I figured I could get her mind off this track pretty easily. "As long as we're here, is there anything you want to pick up?" I asked. "No sense making two trips if we don't have to."
"A slave could probably use...more bathroom articles...that's all a slave can think of now, Mistress."
She hadn't struck me as the make-a-list type, so I figured she'd probably remember more things later. "Articles you normally buy where?"
"Pretty much anywhere--valu-mart, for example, Mistress," she told me.
"Then there's no point paying inflated mall prices for the stuff. We're going to grab those items and drop them off at your place. Let's go."
We got the stuff she wanted: toothpaste, cotton swabs, and so on. Then I changed the plan a little. "I just remembered my running shoes are getting worn out; might as well buy a pair while we're here."
"Mistress runs?"
"Sometimes. Swimming and sex are better full-body workouts, and lower impact. Sometimes. But when I feel like running, I run."
We went to the shoe department. I found my favorite type of athletic shoes and sat on one of those odd shoe-department stools. I took off my right shoe. "Put down your basket and help me out," I commanded.
She knelt at my feet. She was only a little suspicious that I might have something more than trying on shoes in mind.
"Hold my foot, slave." She gently did as she was told. "Any thoughts?"
"Your feet are cute, Mistress," she said warily, now definitely suspicious.
"I paid attention to your toes in the shower, and to mine. If they're not clean, who'll suck them? Well, mine are clean, but they're a bit tired. They'd feel a lot better if you'd suck them, one at a time."
We were alone in this aisle at this moment, but that was sure to change; people were shopping. "Mistress, please don't ask a slave to this here!" she hissed.
"Oh? I thought it would be a good chance for my slut to show me her technique, for a different piece of anatomy."
"Mistress, it is, but--"
"--You know you're going to do it. Stop stalling."
Oh, her hot mouth felt great. She was only hesitant for a second; then she got into it. (She definitely thought that I'd let her suck my pussy sooner if she did a good job. Nothing like a little implied incentive! I have always been kind of a pushover when a woman worships my feet well, so maybe she was right.) She put my big toe in her mouth and slowly rotated her tongue around it, then stroked it on all sides. She took her time.
I heard a gasp as a customer, a middle-aged, tallish woman, wandered into our aisle and saw us. My slave shuddered involuntarily, but she kept her attention where it belonged, on my toe. Our fellow customer left us alone. My beautiful slave began her work on my next toe, soothing it with her lips and tongue.
A couple of 16- or 17-year-old girls showed up next. "Oh my gosh!" one of them whispered loudly, drawing her friend's attention to us. They both gaped. I winked at them. My slave's face was deep crimson, and she was not going to look anywhere but the floor no matter what. From the other side of the aisle, another middle-aged woman saw us. But she also saw the teenagers. She blushed, but she stayed in our aisle, pretending to keep shopping, watching us more and more openly with every passing second.
A middle-aged guy, probably looking for his wife or someone, stopped near the teenagers and also stared at us. By the time my bitch had finished with my right foot, we'd drawn a small crowd, silently watching.
"Now the other," I said firmly. My slave and many of the spectators gasped or made other sounds of surprise. With trembling hands, Aurora took off my other shoe.
The larger group of watchers began to disperse suddenly, and an assistant manager--a rather stern-looking guy in his early-to-mid 40s, entered our aisle. Once the other group saw him, they too began to leave the area, like they were afraid of some sort of guilt. "Um, ladies, you've got to stop that," the store employee said.
"Why, is it indecent exposure?" I asked.
"You're making other customers uncomfortable."
"How many people complained to you, one? The customers who were watching enjoyed the show, and I'll bet they'll be back, hoping to see something like this again. But far be it from me to help your store exceed its goals and reward you with a promotion. Put on my shoes, slave, and leave your basket where it is; we're out of here."
I watched him walk away, confused. By the time my shoes were on my feet again, one of our earlier spectators had already returned to the end of our aisle. Not surprisingly, she hurried away when I met her eyes.
"Mistress!" Aurora said once we'd reached my car.
"Don't worry, we'll get our necessaries at another store. There are only about 10,000 exactly like that one in this city."
"Mistress, a slave can't do that again!"
"Slave," I said severely, "don't lie to your mistress." I got into the car and she did likewise.
We bought her supplies at a nearby store and went to her place. As soon as we got into the elevator, I said sweetly, "Take off your clothes."
"We'll be caught! Anyone could--"
"--Everything but the bra," I ordered as though I hadn't heard her. She did as directed, and kind of hid behind me. She stayed very close to me in the hall and she darted into the flat as soon as I unlocked the door. It was true, there was a small chance of us getting caught. I wanted the risk, and so did she--it gave our sexual play a reality, an immediacy, that we couldn't get any other way.
I told her that I was going to her bedroom for a minute and that she should put away her purchases while I was gone. Though it was small, I liked her room. I took my favorite strap-on out of my purse and exchanged it for my knickers, which I put in the purse instead. I looked in her mirror; my pleated skirt concealed the bulge pretty well. "Get the supplies you'll need to work on your projects, and meet me near the front door," I called to her.
"Yes, Mistress," she yelled back.
I left her room. I waited for a moment and she approached me, with a gym bag in her hand. She looked hopefully at her red outfit, lying folded on the kitchen table.
"You may touch only my back or my face," I told her. Then I kissed her. I pushed her slowly backward, finally pinning her against the door to her flat. She was moving her hands and her tongue frantically, obviously still excited from our earlier adventures. I kept her focused on the kiss so she didn't notice me quietly unzipping my skirt. I let it fall, and I stroked her damp pussy with my right hand. She responded with a muffled moan. I pulled my mouth from hers for just a moment. "I see I can still turn you on," I murmured.
"Oh, Mi--" she tried to answer, but I was kissing her again.
My left hand steered the dildo to her entrance. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth clamped on my tongue, sucking it hard. I pushed into her. She was very tight, but she was so juicy that I had no trouble penetrating. I thrust into her, making her ass smack the door with a loud thump every time. I left her lips and kissed her jaw. Her fingers tried to claw my back, even through my cotton blouse.
"Mistress, people will hear!" she panted.
"I want them to hear you getting fucked," I gloated.
"Oh, damn!" she squeaked. I went a little faster. I tweaked her perfect nipples with one hand and kept hold of her ass so I had leverage. "Mistress, may a--may--come? Oh! S-slave come, Mistress?"
"Remember to say ple--"
"--Please!" she shouted.
"Come away," I said carelessly.
She lost it. "Oh! Fuck! Oh Mistress! Ah!" She was spraying droplets of her juices on my legs, and probably all over herself and my skirt and the floor and anything else that was close. Her eyelids were clamped shut and I doubt she was aware as she ripped my shirt. I was getting plenty of clit stimulation myself...
...I felt her nails digging into my back and her wonderful smell was stronger than ever. I came too, and I couldn't help fucking her even faster, quickly giving her a second orgasm as I rode out my own.
"Wow," I whispered once I regained control of my lower body. I gently pulled out of her snatch, loving her mewling protest. Not caring that my skirt had come on it, I pulled it back on. (The strap-on stayed where it was too.) Timing was of the essence in these situations. Aurora was slowly sliding to the floor. I grabbed her hand and pulled.
"We're behind schedule," I said. "Grab your gym bag; I've got your clothes. You can dress in the lift. Go on, get out, so I can lock up."
"You aren't serious!"
"I am."
Terrified, she did as I commanded. She looked and smelled and sounded so wonderful! If someone did see her, she wouldn't only be exposed, the person would know she'd just had sex! I couln't stop myself from grinning. I locked her door and joined her in the elevator. She started dressing frantically. As she bent over, I slapped her ass hard. She yelped in such a cute way. "You didn't call me 'Mistress' when I gave you that last command," I told her. "You'll pay for that little slip later."
We were on the way back to my house when she finally said, "Thank you, Mistress. A slave has come harder today than ever in a slave's life."
"Glad to hear that. Use your mouth to clean my dildo."
"Of course, Mistress," she squeaked. She looked around at the traffic. She slumped gradually into her seat, hoping she wouldn't be noticed if she moved slowly.
"Now," I ordered her.
She knew it was futile to try not to be seen. She dove at my crotch, lifted my skirt, and sucked my long, slim dildo. I could tell she had rarely, if ever, done that--she was very hesitant and awkward. After about a minute, I told her she could stop.
"You taste good, so I shared," I explained.
"Th-thank you, Mistress," she whimpered.
"Don't you agree?"
"Yes, a slave tastes good, Mistress." I could tell she meant it, but having to say it aloud was the biggest humiliation of the day, in a sense.
"Yeah, your slutty cunt tastes good," I said. "Show it to me."
She put her hand on her crotch and pulled the shorts aside, nervously watching the traffic.
"A proper look."
She unfastened the skimpy shorts and wriggled her hips, tugging the shorts to her ankles, spreading her thighs for me. She was wet again, shiny with fluid. This gal was a fountain!
"Now give me a taste, please."
She stuck a finger in her vagina, then took it out and put it in my mouth. I savored her. "Okay, pull up the shorts," I said, satisfied for the moment. "Don't get too comfortable in them, though. When you enter my house, you'll be wearing shoes and bra only."
There was a long silence. "Mistress will kill a slave, but a slave will die happy," Aurora whispered.
I giggled. "Your mistress knows what's best. You'll only wish to die."
When we reached my house, I was kind enough to unlock the door and to let her strip in my car and run from it to my house, so she was only exposed for a few seconds. It thrilled us both just the same.
"Let's do some work," I said, shutting the door. "You may set up anywhere you like, except for the kitchen or my bedroom."
"Which room will Mistress be using?" she asked.
"Her own bedroom," I answered. She was disappointed, but she had to learn that she wouldn't die without me and that we had something more than sex between us.
"A slave might have to move furniture to get set up; is that okay, Mistress?"
I hadn't thought of that, but it made sense. "Yeah, whatever," I said. But first we'll go to your room; I found a few things yesterday that might fit you. It'll be too expensive if we wind up buying a completely new wardrobe, and you'll probably look very nice in this clothing."
She and I went to the bedroom I'd lent her and began the fitting. At one point, she had to ask where I'd gotten these clothes, of course. She was very surprised when I told her they were mine. The dresses, the skirt, and the blouse all fit, just as I'd guessed they would. The black minidress was a micro on her, but it was made of stretch lycra, and it would be able to contain her. On a whim, I also grabbed an oversized Connecticut Sun sweatshirt from my room. "I keep this house warm, but not hot. Show me how well this fits you."
She put it on and my heart about stopped. She looked so cute, and so sexy at the same time. The shirt was just barely long enough to cover her delta, and the sleeves were a little too long for her. She looked like a naughty girl who needed one more hug before going to bed. "You can wear that if you're feeling chilly," I said, forcing the words past my lips.
"Mistress, thank you," she said. She must have been aware of her effect on me, because she put one hand on her hip and gave me a challenging pose. Somehow, my willpower won against my hormones. Proud of my self- control, I turned to leave her room.
"Oh! Oh, a slave is sorry, Mistress!" I heard her say.
I faced her again. She drew closer to me. "Sorry?"
"Mistress's shirt is ripped, a slave might be responsible."
"Yes, she was."
"Please let a slave fix it, Mistress."
"Fine." I took off the shirt and handed it to her. "Can you really fix it?"
"Maybe not, Mistress," she admitted. "It's in worse shape than it..."
I'd turned away again, and she'd just stopped talking. "Now what?" I said, facing her once more.
"There are scratches on Mistress's back," she told me, tears coming to her eyes. "A slave didn't mean to do that!"
"Hey, don't worry," I said, more gently than usual. "They don't hurt. I'm glad they're there; they're proof that I'm satisfying you."
"Mistress..."
"I said don't worry about it. If you want to make it up to me, make a sexy tube top for yourself as your next project. Got it?"
"Yes, Mistress," she said, a bit more cheerfully.
"I mean it, I'm glad you scratched me. It turned me on, you hot slut. I hoped you would do it. Now do something constructive with your time, and I'll do the same. We've got two or three hours until supper." I stepped forward and kissed her lips lightly.
In my room, I put on a fresh shirt and started my computer research. I found Ms. Swimming-Otter, Aurora's former teacher, with no trouble. I called the listed number but didn't get an answer, so I sent her a brief email telling her to call me if she wanted to talk about a special student from a few years ago. Once that was done, I brought up a song I was trying to write and began fiddling with it, making slow progress. I had a decent start, but there was nothing special about the composition so far. I kept trying new notes chords on my electric keyboard, occasionally finding and recording a sequence that worked. How I envy people who can write music quickly!
My phone rang, startling me. It wasn't Ms. Swimming-Otter, just my friend Toni, reminding me that we were getting together for lunch on Tuesday and talking about her 10-month-old, Derrick. She sounded a little tired, as a mom with a young child usually does, I thought with a snicker.
After I got off the phone, I only composed for a few more minutes before I thought it was time to start making supper.
When I opened my door, I was greeted by the sight of Aurora, sitting in my smaller recliner, working on something--probably a shirt. The hall is pretty wide, and she'd moved the chair and a couple of coffee tables right outside my door. I couldn't let her see it, but I was touched.
"Good, I won't have to go looking for you," I said. "Help me in the kitchen, slave."
We worked well together, preparing cheese tortellini with marinara sauce and a simple garden salad. "A slave liked the music, Mistress," she commented.
"You couldn't, it's nowhere near finished," I retorted.
"A slave still liked what a slave heard," she insisted.
"Good. And I will keep my promise; I'll play my viola for you before we go to bed."
"Mistress, a slave really looks forward to that."
Once we'd finished with the meal, including washing the dishes, I said, "We're going to the playroom. Pick out a vibrator you like once we're in there, and a blindfold."
"As Mistress orders," she said.
"And remove everything--even your earrings and your rings. I want you naked."
She left to do my bidding.
Part 6 will emerge if/when I get around to it. Things are really busy, so it definitely won't be anytime soon. But as for emails--they can help the speed of the process, to a certain extent.