Authors: Jennifer Jane Pope
'Nineteen inches,' Anne-Marie said, as if reading my mind. 'You could probably get down another inch, with proper figure training. In the old days, of course, they thought nothing of having a sixteen inch waist.'
Oh yes they bloody well did! They thought it was tight, painful and bloody downright torturous, but then they didn't have a whole lot of say in the matter!
'You like sexy underwear?' I asked. It was an inane question, but I wasn't quite sure what was supposed to happen next. No way would things have gone so blatantly, so brazenly, if this had been a man, but Anne-Marie was definitely no male and I was a complete novice where this side of sexuality was concerned.
'I like sexy girls in sexy things,' she replied softly. 'And you are a very sexy girl.' It was strange how I felt so vulnerable and so totally out of control of the situation, but she radiated a sort of power that had me well and truly in its grip.
'Come here,' she whispered, and I stepped forward like an obedient child. She reached out, taking me lightly by the shoulders and drew my face down to hers. Her lips were incredibly full and soft and tasted of fruit, obviously from her lipstick, which was different to the one she had left on the dressing table upstairs. I started to stiffen, but a moment later her tongue was darting into my mouth, pushing past my lips and teeth and seeking my own tongue with the precision of a guided missile. I heard myself let out a tiny snort through my nose, which became a gasp as her hands moved down to cup my breasts.
'Such pretty tits,' she whispered, detaching her lips from mine at last. 'So firm and round and such lovely nipples. I think they deserve to be kissed, don't you?' I couldn't have found my voice to answer if I'd wanted to and a moment later, taking my silence as agreement, Anne-Marie stooped and gently sucked my right nipple into her mouth. This time my squeal came from my mouth and I found myself grasping her shoulders for support.
Nerve fibres were beginning to go ping and twang all over me. The constriction about my waist made breathing difficult, short and shallow breaths, the lack of oxygen to my brain combining with the Bacardi to produce a strangely giddy and detached feeling. I swayed on my heels, feeling as if this was not now me, not my own body and indeed, Anne-Marie appeared to think it was now hers to do with whatever she wanted.
Her mouth moved to my left nipple and I saw she had left a glistening red ring about the right one, which was now sticking out and throbbing in a way that made it feel as if it had grown to ten times its original size. Between my legs I felt muscles spasm, and then my cheeks burned as I felt the first telltale sensations of dampness as I began to approach total arousal.
'Oh, you feel so hot,' Anne-Marie said, removing her mouth and peering up into my blushes. 'And what's this?' I jumped as her fingers probed between my legs, through the slit in the ridiculous panties and found the evidence of my mounting excitement. They stroked slowly back and forth against my sex, slipping easily on my juices, but not yet attempting to enter me. I heard a peculiar little sound, like a small motorboat in difficulties and realised, vaguely, it was coming from my throat.
'Pussy's crying,' Anne-Marie said. 'Oh, poor pussy must be feeling
so
neglected. Come here, pussy, let me stroke you.' Now one slender finger did push its way inside my sex and I made no effort to stop it. Nor did that finger have the slightest difficulty in locating my clitoris, for the deadly little bud was now pulsating and her first touch sent a shockwave coursing through me with such violence that I nearly lost my balance.
Anne-Marie dropped to her knees, her face pressing into my mound, her tongue replacing her finger. I reached down, grasping the top of her head and pressed her even harder against me. She made a small sound, somewhere between a grunt and a mewling and her tongue - so unbelievably long - penetrated me like a hot, wet, rasping penis.
My back arched and I came, instantly, my reflex being to try to detach myself from her mouth, but Anne-Marie had reached behind me, grasping my buttocks tightly and now it was she who was maintaining our contact. I felt her mouth opening wider, then closing, sucking, drawing my distended clitoris between her lips, while at the same time drinking eagerly of my juices, and it was about then that I must have passed out, lights flashing, rocket engines roaring in my ears, a black curtain rising up before me.
I came round on the long sofa, to find Anne-Marie standing over me and, when I struggled to sit up I discovered, to my astonishment, that my wrists had been secured behind me by some sort of cuffs. I tugged against them and realised they were either leather or some other tough fabric, rather than the metal of ordinary handcuffs.
'Wh-what are you doing?' I squeaked. Anne-Marie stooped before me and looked into my eyes. I saw she was smiling and that the smile reached beyond her mouth, but this was scary and not what I'd expected.
'If you really want me to,' she said, holding up a tiny silver key, 'I'll take the cuffs off you, but it's only a game.'
'A game?'
'Yes, a game,' she repeated. 'I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, nor anyone else for that matter, but I sort of sensed something.'
'In me?'
She nodded. 'Yes, in you. Have you ever played bondage games before?' I felt the colour in my face deepen and I lowered my eyes. 'That's okay, you don't have to say anything. We all have our secrets and loads of people like their sex a bit kinky.'
A bit kinky? Bondage
games?
If only I could have told her, but then who would believe me anyway? I felt one finger circling my right nipple and I looked up at her again.
'You see,' she went on, her voice little more than a whisper, 'now you're my prisoner for the night - my slave, actually. I may choose to spank you, I may choose to tickle you. I may even put you out in the garden for a while - no don't worry,' she added hastily, seeing the sudden alarm in my face, 'the garden has high hedges all around and isn't overlooked. It wouldn't do to have the neighbours phoning daddy to tell him I've got near naked girls on his precious lawn, would it?'
She helped me to my feet, still shod in those ridiculous gold sandals, and then produced another set of leather cuffs, which she proceeded to lock about my ankles, so that the chain between the two restricted my step to only a few inches; not that I could have taken a much longer stride without this hobble, for these heels were not meant for marching about in anyway.
'Now my little Teena slave,' she said. 'Time for you to pay for being such a terribly bad and rude girl, I think.' She grasped one of the bra cups, turned it over and down and her left breast flowed into view like a small tidal wave, its huge nipple a strangely unnatural red colour. 'Suck my lovely teat, Teenie girl,' she chuckled, offering it to my mouth with one hand, while her other hand closed about the back of my neck and pulled my head down.
I was forced to bend my knees, adding still further to my feeling of imbalance, but I did as she instructed, sucking gently on the nipple until it filled my mouth, the sweet strawberry taste betraying where it had got its bright colouring. She left me to suckle for a minute or so and then transferred me to the other breast. Nothing was said and the two of us stood there for several minutes, me with my hands cuffed and useless behind me, she holding my hair gently and moving my mouth periodically from one nipple to the other.
'Beautiful,' she said at last, drawing me upright again. 'Such a beautiful mouth and so, so soft. She held me close, her exposed breasts crushed beneath my own, her mouth running softly up and down my right upper arm.
'Tell me,' I heard her say, 'have you ever eaten another girl's pussy?' It took me a couple of attempts to speak, for my mouth and throat had gone suddenly very dry. I shook my head.
'N-no,' I said huskily. She continued to kiss and lick my arm.
'Have you ever wanted to?'
'No, I don't think so.' Was that an honest answer? Somehow I no longer knew.
'Do you want to now?'
'I'm your slave,' I whispered. 'Do I have a choice?' Anne-Marie looked up and stepped back and I saw her eyes were shining.
'No,' she said, smiling broadly. 'No, you don't.' She turned away, opened a drawer in the nearby bureau and took something out. As she turned back I saw it was a leather dog collar with a chain leash attached to it. A moment later it had been buckled around my neck. She gave it a light, almost experimental tug.
'Come on then,' she said, nodding towards the door. 'Now you're properly leashed like a good little bitch, I think it's time for you to learn to eat pussy.'
19
.
I suppose I could draw a discreet veil over what happened next, or pretend that was it, that Anne-Marie stopped, laughed, released me and we just curled up together with the rest of the Bacardi. It was, after all, only a game, albeit a sexual one. However, I think we both know, dear reader, that this was only the beginning and I shall not disappoint you any more than I was allowed to be disappointed myself that weekend.
Anne-Marie's bedroom was not the one in which I had earlier changed. That, apparently, was one of the guestrooms, while hers was one of three rooms plus a bathroom, sitting high above in what had once, apparently, been a loft space, but which had since been turned into a self-contained suite for her sole use. As I entered the bedroom itself, following obediently on my leash, it struck me that I had been turned into some sort of sweet for her use in similar fashion.
The room was gothic in the extreme and I wondered whether her indulgent father ever ventured up this far when he was at home. The walls, curtains, ceiling, even the bed linen was black, the only break in this being the red tracery pattern in the otherwise black carpet and the furniture, which was painted blood red, but with black relief. Illuminated by red bulbs in the ceiling fitting and two wall fittings, the room was both eerie and warm in its atmosphere, a weird paradox which should, perhaps, have told me something about my own psyche.
'Do you like it, my darling?' Anne-Marie cooed, turning to look into my eyes.
I nodded. 'Yes, it's um, very...'
She smiled. 'Yes, isn't it?' she giggled. 'And so are you.' She drew close to me and took my breasts in her hands, all the while leaving the leash looped about her wrist. I closed my eyes as she kneaded my soft flesh, listening to my heart as it thumped against my ribcage and sent echoing resonances up into my confused head.
I felt helpless, owned, subjugated and yet... I felt safe, wanted, desired and very desirable. That inexplicable mixture of feelings - lust, fear, desire, need - that I had first experienced at the hands of Hacklebury and his cohorts had returned with a vengeance, except that this time the fear was not for my safety, but for whatever it was I thought I might be turning into.
'Kneel.' She gave the command quietly and without a trace of harshness, but I found myself dropping to my knees on the soft carpet, not even the slightest thought of rebellion entering my head. Anne-Marie stood before me, her crotch in line with my eyes, her odour filling my nostrils, but she was not yet ready for me to pay her the ultimate homage. Her hands toyed with my hair and I heard her making little tut-tutting noises in her throat.
'Too short,' she whispered. I looked up at her and she smiled down at me, encouragingly. 'Your hair,' she explained, softly. 'It's far too short for a proper slave, unless you want me to shave it all off, the way they used to do with Nubian slaves.' I shook my head in sudden panic.
'N-no!' I exclaimed, startled. How the hell would I explain that one away? 'No, please. Please don't do that!' Her smile widened and she shook her head.
'Of course I shan't, silly,' she said. 'Not your head, anyway. Now, just stay there and let's see what we have in the closet.' Yes, there was an inference there that I missed, I know, but I was so relieved that she wasn't going to mess around with my head hair that it's hardly surprising and, when the ultimate moment did arrive shortly after, there was no arguing anyway, so utterly was I under her spell.
The wig looked as if it had come straight off the set of
Cleopatra
; black, thick and styled so perfectly severely and, as Anne-Marie placed it on my head and brushed it lightly into position, I felt those little tingly inner fingers at work again. Still she was not satisfied, however, and several minutes of careful attention to my eyes ensued. Finally, she removed my own gold studs and replaced them with two heavy pendants, which swung lazily with even the slightest motion of my head.
'Can I see?' I asked, looking around for a mirror. A long curtain against an otherwise blank section of wall indicated that one might be hiding there, but Anne-Marie was not yet ready to show me my new self. First came the promised attention to detail I had missed before and she began by cutting through the thin elasticated waistband of my panties and drawing them from me, tossing away their ruined remains without the slightest concern for the cost of what she had just wasted.
'Come,' she said, tugging gently on my leash. I rose awkwardly and followed her back out of the room and into the bathroom, where she backed me up against a long towel rail and looped my leash behind me, through my wrist chain and around the stainless steel bar. Still I hadn't realised what she was intending, but the can of foam and the new razor she took from the packet on the window ledge quickly put me right. I opened my eyes wide in alarm.