Put Me In a Skirt and Hurt Me: The Strictly Lesbian Adventures of Mistress Sophia (4 page)

Abruptly, she stopped it all and sat in her blue chair.

“Willow, pleasure Porsche,” she commanded in a quiet, off-hand voice.

Willow hated Porsche now, hated her, and giving her pleasure was the last thing she wanted to do. She wanted her gone. She wanted her mistress to herself! But to please Sophia was her top priority. If that meant bringing Porsche to a shattering climax, so be it. She was determined to bring the stupid cunt to her knees and make her come harder than she’d ever come before.

Willow laid Porsche back on the couch and began to stroke her body from head to toe. Porsche steeled herself. There was no way this stick of a woman was going to excite her. She was as determined as Willow. Determined to not come, to not be moved.

Willow nuzzled Porsche’s neck, sipping on her flesh, nibbling gently and occasionally biting tenderly, her tongue meandering along the unwilling girl’s throat to the fullness of her breasts. She brought one nipple into her mouth and sucked gently. To Porsche’s dismay, her nipples tightened and her back arched slightly to thrust the nipple more firmly into Willow’s beautiful mouth. Willow caressed Porsche’s arms and legs, eventually bringing her hands up Porsche’s creamy thighs and against her wet little cleft. Willow drew back, pulled Porsche’s drenched pink panties off, and said, “Turn over, Porsche, turn over.”

Porsche obeyed, renewing her resolve to remain unmoved by Willow’s tongue, her mouth, her wonderful hands that seemed to be everywhere at once. She thought about baseball and her dog that had died when she was a child, anything to dampen the excitement rising in her. Willow tucked a pillow under Porsche’s belly and thighs, lifting the girl’s ass and displaying it—and her new rival’s beautiful bald cunt—to perfection. Willow began to rim Porsche, her tongue swirling around and around Porsche’s ass cheeks like a tiny little roulette wheel. Her tongue swirled until the tip of it landed on Porsche’s hot little scrunch of an asshole, jutting inside, making her gasp with pleasure—a gasp Porsche quickly stifled.

Next, Willow went to work on her cunt—not in the fashion preferred by her mistress, but by making her tongue a pointed little sword that penetrated Porsche over and over again. Slick little wet little tongue moving in and out of her ass and in and out of her pussy. Porsche ground her teeth.
No, no, no ... I ... can’t ... ooooh, sweet Jesus on the cross! ... her tongue ... in me ... Oh, deeper! Shove it in deeper, you little angel! Oh, fuck me with that little sturdy tongue of yours, you sweet little ... Oooooh, fuck me. Yes. Yes.

Willow felt Porsche’s response and redoubled her efforts. Suddenly, she felt Sophia place a small bottle of lube in her hand. She was able to open it and lube up her hands while tongue-fucking the bejesus out of Porsche. Her lubed hands came up now and one moved to her ass and cunt, the other wrapped around and found a hard little nipple to squeeze and a big breast to massage. The hand between Porsche’s legs began a luscious game of fingers moving in and out of ass and pussy, ass and pussy. She felt Porsche’s lips and clit swelling ridiculously big, bigger than Sophia’s ever had, and she was pleased with her own prowess. She pulled her hand away, and Porsche let out a mew of dismay.

After a maddening pause, Willow returned to her fingerfuck of ass and cunt, and Porsche cried out and began working her hips hard against those fingers. To hell with resolve! Porsche surrendered completely. Moaning and pressing her face into the couch, thrusting her hips back and forth to the rhythm of Willow’s fingers entering, exiting, entering, exiting.

“Deeper! Fuck me HARD. Oh, fuck me DEEPER! YES! That’s ... YES, Oh, fuck, YEEEEESSSSSS!”

Willow was excited now too, and fucked Porsche’s soaking pussy as hard as she could, pushing with her whole body against the slick bald cunt and glossy asshole, increasing her rhythm to a fever pitch.

“You FUCKINGWONDERFULBITCHWILLOW ... I’m coming. Oh, yes, yes, I’m coming now ...” From a yell to barely a whisper as Porsche quivered and quaked, the climax shattering her to pieces and delivering her to a quiet empty space she’d never been before. For a few seconds, she even forgot to breathe.

Willow rose victorious with a smirk on her face
. Fucking Porsche. Do not try to take my place, you sub of a sub.
But she was dripping too and her nipples were hard little beads on her tits, wanting to be sucked and sucked and sucked.

Sophia motioned Willow to sit and turned to Porsche.

“Pull yourself together, you have work to do.”

6

S
OPHIA GAZED AT PORSCHE
blandly. Slowly, she tugged the fingers of a still wet glove off one hand and laid it next to her chair. Then she did the same with the second glove, resting it on top of the other and smoothing it out. She sat back and drummed her fingers against the arm of the chair. She pursed her lips and let out a long sigh. The drumming abruptly stopped. “Eat out Willow until she comes.”

Porsche rose unsteadily, but ready for the challenge. She was still horny as hell and wanted to topple Willow the same way she’d been defeated. Plus, she knew she was skilled with her tongue.

Porsche grabbed the G-string at Willow’s waist and roughly pulled it down. Porsche pushed Willow’s thighs apart and dove directly for her pussy, which was already glistening and swollen with excitement. Porsche’s tongue lapped the edges of Willow’s lips, darted in and out of her rosy opening, then returned to the edges to tease. Willow’s legs tensed. She lifted her ass off the couch, grabbed Porsche’s head, and thrust it deep between her legs. Porsche responded by lapping up all the juices she could as they poured out of Willow. Her tongue pushed softly then more forcefully against Willow’s cunthole. Her hands reached in and parted Willow’s lips, exposing the clit while
her practiced tongue flicked out, lifted the hood, and lapped directly on it. Many women can’t handle this direct stimulation, but Willow went wild. Her legs jerked up, her knees nearly level with her chin, as she spread them wide to give Porsche more access.

Porsche’s tongue moved like a battering ram, like a soft blanket, like a little whip against Willow’s exposed clit. Suddenly, Willow’s legs wrapped around Porsche’s head, nearly suffocating Porsche in her pussy as the spasms rocked her from head to toe.

“FUCK ME!” Willow breathed out and again, “FUCKING FUCK MEEEEEE.” She came again and again, each crescendo thought to be the last, followed by another more lasting and vibrant than the previous one. Eventually, the spasms tapered off and Willow finally released Porsche’s head from between her thighs. Porsche’s face was streaked with Willow’s juice. It almost looked as if she’d been crying.

The girls grinned at each other.

Both girls turned to Sophia, who sat staring from her blue chair. They waited expectantly for the next command. Time passed. Sophia jerked. She’d been thinking about Mrs. Pea again and had barely been aware of her subs in their throes of passion.

7

 
“Y
ES ... WELL ...” SOPHIA BEGAN,
but she was at a total loss. “You ... you bore me now. Both of you. Leave. I’ll summon you when I require your presence.”

The girls exchanged a look of bafflement, but both grabbed their things and left without comment.

What the hell is wrong with me? It was a small incident! Smutty and sexy and, really when you think about it, not that big of a deal! Why am I so fixated on it? And why am I so inconsolable at the thought of it not happening again? Good lord. I really have to get a grip.

She went into the bedroom and got out of her things and lay naked on the bed, her hands—left below the right—resting on the center of her chest. Her black hair, worn in a stern longish pageboy fell forward into her eyes. She sighed, strummed her fingers up and down, and sighed again. This obsession was new. She wasn’t quite sure how to rid herself of it.

A good fucking might do the trick, or at least take my mind off old Auntie Pea.

She reached for the phone and hit 6, the speed dial for ...

“Tommy? Hey, there! I know, I know, it’s late, yes. Yes. Too long. You what? Oh, my God! Well, good for you, you deserve it. What? Well, as a matter of fact, that’s why I’m calling ... You can? Yay! I’ll see you then.”

She replaced the receiver, bounced up and off the bed, and strolled into her lushly out-fitted
walk-in closet. She chose a red dress covered in sequins. She thought she looked like a red disco ball in it ... or at least that’s what she’d told Edna, but she knew it was one of those dresses that, well, makes people want to tear it off you and fuck you senseless. And that’s exactly what she wanted right now, to be fucked ... and to be fucked senseless.

Maybe Tommy will fuck Mrs. Pea right out of me.

She rummaged around for her red Prada that she always wore with the dress and looked down at her toes. It was Tuesday and pedicures were on Thursdays but that little gal she went to—Jackie? Joanie? Jilly? Jumong? Who could remember?—but anyway she did a fantastic job, and her toes still looked sexy. She probably didn’t even need to go every week except that she loved being pampered, so why not?

Thank God I didn’t go with that weird purple Jackiejoaniejillyjumong recommended! This shade matches the red dress perfectly! Underwear? No underwear? Hm ...

She decided to go with a black latex set. It was one of her favorites; she was amazed by how thin the latex was. The bra had tight little circles cut out for her nipples ... not the areolas ... just the nips. She fucking loved that! And the panties had a discreet little slit for her clit and another for her pink smile. She put them on and looked in the mirror.

“Fucking awesome! I am fucking awesome!” she murmured.

She’d often been told she could be a Victoria’s Secret Model. She was 5’10”, most of that leg, with a flat stomach she didn’t have to work for, nice 38C titties and an ass just this side of JLo’s. Her nipples were dark pink, nearly brown. She’d laid a half dollar on her breast once and it had exactly covered her areola. She’d wanted to Facebook that to all her friends—she was so proud of the fact—but of course she hadn’t. She was well known in certain circles, but also very private. She had to be in order to pursue her love of the scene.

She’d been introduced to BDSM as a teenager by the woman next door. Her mother had said, “Sophia, you know, Mrs. Jarmon is a real Susie Homemaker. You could learn a lot from her about keeping house and baking—Lord knows I don’t excel in those areas—thank God for Maria!” Oh, she’d learned a lot from her neighbor, that was true, but it wasn’t so much baking as when to use a paddle and when to use a whip, when to wear leather and when to wear rubber, and how to become comfortable in a ball gag for extended periods of time. Sophia quickly decided that she wanted to be a domme, but Mrs. Jarmon had insisted she learn all there was to know about being a sub
first
so she would understand her own future subs fully and be able to get the most enjoyment out of each and every session.

The first whipping she’d received from Mrs. Jarmon, she’d come so hard she’d soaked her shorts as well as her panties and had had to tie her sweatshirt around her waist to walk over to her own house. Her mother had been hosting her bridge group there and Sophia had to stop in the living room and exchange pleasantries with the nosy Mrs. Aman, the plump Mrs. DiFilipi, and the sharp Mrs. Gatens (who seemed like she was on to something), all the while feeling both the heat of the whipping she’d received and the wetness between her legs. When she felt a droplet coursing down her thigh, she made a quick retreat to her room and was scolded later by her mother for being rude. She couldn’t remember how she’d hidden the marks from all the whippings she’d received. But then again, her mother was much more attentive to bridge and a highball than to Sophia and her comings and goings.

Sophia had surprised herself by getting so excited when being punished and had asked Mrs. Jarmon if maybe she
was
a submissive after all. But Mrs. Jarmon had just smiled and replied, “Oh, silly! Everyone enjoys a good beating now and then!” and had handed her a chocolate chip cookie.

Sophia slipped the red dress on over the rubber ensemble and wrestled into the red Pradas, not the most comfortable shoes in the world, but Birkenstocks just weren’t in her repertoire. She ran a little CherryCherry lipstick over her lips, quickly lined her eyes, grabbed her clutch, and headed for the door.