Authors: Jennifer Jane Pope
'You can't,' I gasped. Her smile never wavered, but her voice was firm.
'Of course I can,' she replied. 'You are my slave, Teenie darling, and I can do anything with you that will not cause you any real or permanent harm. Those are the rules.'
'What rules?' I blurted out. 'Whose rules?' Still she smiled, advancing on me with the nozzle of the can aimed at the appropriate target at the apex formed by my thighs.
'You'll find out, eventually,' she said, 'assuming you still want to.' She depressed the top of the can and foam bubbled out onto my pubic area. I cringed, but the wall at my back prevented further retreat. 'You see,' she continued, stooping down to massage the creamy cloud into me, 'there are rules concerning mistresses and slaves and, unless you sign a proper pact, I can only do those things to you which are temporary.
'Like this,' she continued, switching the safety razor to her right hand. 'I suppose I could also shave your head, as that will grow back again, but I shan't, not unless you decide you want me to some day. However, ringing your nipples, ringing your labia, your clit of course, even your nose - for those I must have your agreement, you see?'
'Yes.' Except that I didn't see at all, for she was talking about stuff I'd never even imagined - well, yes, I probably
had
imagined them, or at least something similar, but I'd never imagined them happening to me, at least not in real life.
Only this somehow no longer felt like real life.
It took her about five minutes and I all but held my breath throughout, especially when that keen little blade came close to my swollen pussy lips. Anne-Marie, however, had a steady hand and I guessed - correctly as it transpired - that mine was not the first quim she had treated in this way.
'There!' she exclaimed, standing up and reaching for a soft damp cloth to clean the vestiges of soap away. 'That wasn't so bad, was it? So much nicer without that little beard to get in the way.' She bent with the cloth and I felt as if she was polishing my newly denuded mound, so precise were her ministrations. I forced myself to look down, at that baby smooth area that now felt so naked, so cold and exposed, and yet
so
damned sexy.
'Thank you, mistress.' I couldn't believe I'd said that, but somehow it seemed so very natural. 'Thank you for shaving your slave's pussy.' Little lines came back to me, lines I had read in books I shouldn't have even known about, lines that had seemed so stilted, farcical and laughable as I'd encountered them on the page. They didn't seem so farcical now. The blood in my temples was pounding.
'And now you are ready,' Anne-Marie declared, wiping her fingers and reaching behind me to free the leash from the towel rail. 'Come on and see your new self.'
The mirror was taller than I and, when she drew the curtain aside I simply stood there, mesmerised. My tall, well toned frame looked as good as it always did, but far better, too, with its adornments and accessories. The cincher gave me a far more curved appearance than usual, as I already knew, but that wig, those heavy earrings and those blue and gold eyelids with their heavy black linings made me look like a completely different person.
I looked every inch the slave princess and my shaven pussy and my collar and leash simply added to that humbling status, yet without detracting from the grandeur of a posture made grander by my steepling heels. I had never considered myself plain, it was true, but never before, not until this moment, had I understood how beautiful I could be made to look. Any man confronted with the sight I now presented would have burst through his fly, I knew, for I was simply desirable and, thanks to my chains, also very available.
Only, as I finally tore myself away from my reflection and broke the narcissistic spell, I knew I had not been made thus for the benefit of any man, nor any flesh and blood cock. This gentle-seeming young woman from the public library had made me her slave and made that slave in the image I now was for her own enjoyment. Like it or not, this Egyptian jewel was now, for the time being at least, a lesbian princess and she was about to learn how to worship at the altar of her High Priestess and mistress.
'Are you ready to thank your mistress properly?' I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Anne-Marie fingered my nipples gently: they were hard and thrusting and even the slightest contact sent the currents fizzing along the ring mains of my nervous system. She smiled and shook her head.
'Not
quite
ready, I think,' she whispered, and turned away to the red and black chest beside the curtained window. She opened the top drawer and I heard sounds of metallic chinking. 'These should do,' she said, turning back towards me. I stared hard at what she was showing me, but did not understand what they were, at least not until she closed the first little serrated ring about my left nipple.
I let out a little whimper as the tiny teeth gripped the base of my thrusting cone, but what little pain there actually was quickly gave way to a different sensation and as the heavy little gold bell pulled down against my skin I very nearly climaxed on the spot. A moment or so later and the right nipple had been similarly attended to.
'Shake your shoulders.' I did so and, as my boobs swayed and jiggled, the two little bells set up a merry little tune between them. 'Slave bells,' Anne-Marie laughed. 'Now you will tinkle with almost every move you make and your slave bells will remind you that you are owned and not free. At least,' she added, grinning mischievously, 'not free until Monday morning, which is a good thirty odd hours away yet!'
I stood there, breathing rapidly and shallowly - the waist cincher, like its predecessor Victorian corsets, left me little choice in that matter - and considered what she had just said. Thirty odd hours, nearly thirty-six, probably, depending upon what time she intended leaving for work come Monday morning. I'd been thinking in terms of an hour or two, three maybe, overnight at the most, but now I was faced with the prospect of a full day as her slave, followed by a second night.
'You don't have to,' she whispered, flicking my right nipple bell gently. It seemed Anne-Marie could sense almost everything I was thinking. 'You can leave any time you like, you know that really, don't you?'
'Looking like this?' I tried to lighten the moment. Anne-Marie arched her eyebrows.
'Hmmm, well,' she said slowly, 'it might be an interesting thought, but the neighbours would play hell with daddy when he gets back.' She laughed and this time flicked both bells. My nipples felt as if they were throbbing now. 'No, silly, if you want to leave, then you can leave as you arrived here and I'll drive you home.
'However, I think I should be rewarded for all the trouble I've gone to first, don't you?' She scooped up my leash and began backing away towards the side of the bed, tugging me in her wake.
'And what happens if I stay?' I asked. I suspected this might be somewhere close to some sort of point of no return and I wasn't quite sure if I was ready to cross this particular Rubicon. Anne-Marie pursed her lips and then formed them into a little moue.
'Well, I think we should agree some basic ground rules, don't you?' she said evenly. 'It's for your benefit and enjoyment as well. Basically, if you stay tonight then you're agreeing to stay until Monday morning and, in the meantime, you are my slave and what I say goes.
'However,' she said, pausing to take as deep a breath as her own corset would permit, 'you get a safe word to use, just in case anything that happens isn't to your liking, or perhaps goes too far, okay?'
'Okay,' I agreed, carefully. 'And if I use the safe word, what happens then? I suppose you just tell me to clear out.' Anne-Marie shook her head.
'Not a bit of it,' she said. 'If you feel you need to use the word, then we just stop and reflect a bit, decide what it was that... well, you know what I mean.'
'Yes,' I confirmed. 'I know what you mean. Mistress,' I added somewhat belatedly, and she smiled again.
'Good,' she said. 'And now we've got that out of the way, come here and let's see what you can do with that sweet mouth.' She tugged on the leash again, but I held back, protesting.
'The word,' I whispered. 'What's my word?'
Anne-Marie began giggling. 'Chastity,' she said, as she dragged me down to my knees. 'It's about the only time you'll ever here that word in this house.' She slid back so that she was sitting, legs apart, on the edge of the bed, then dropped the leash and began fiddling with something at her hip. A moment later two ends of a tie came apart and she quickly repeated the procedure on her other hip. Then, raising herself slightly, she tugged and her panties came clean away in her hand, to be sent fluttering over the end of the bed.
'Now then,' she said, reaching to take up my leash anew. I stared at her, seeing that she was as depilated and smooth there as I now was, the puffy lips of her sex pouting a slightly opened deep pink, the darker inner flesh already glistening with her moisture. Nothing else needed to be said.
Slowly I leaned forward, bending my back, arms still bound uselessly behind me and nuzzled against her, my tongue flicking against the inviting opening. I tasted her, both sweet and yet slightly salty, or was that sour? I didn't know, but then I also didn't care, for she tasted far better than I had anticipated, this my mistress, my owner, my first encounter with the really intimate treasures of another female.
'Lap, little kitten,' she whispered. She had hold of the back of my collar, holding me there, my face totally hidden by a combination of the new black hair and her marvellous soft and enveloping thighs. I lapped and felt her beginning to tremble, little spasms in the muscles of her legs and stomach. My nipples felt as if they had grown tenfold in size and somewhere in the muffled distance I could hear their little bells tinkling in time with my head-bobbing movements.
'Good girl,' I heard Anne-Marie say somewhere far above. 'I think you are going to make the most delicious slave I've ever had, don't you?' I nodded, but not necessarily in agreement. Meanwhile, as her clitoris continued to expand and force its way past her outer lips as well as her inner, I began to suck as well as lick, settling into a languorous rhythm, groaning with pleasure as my mistress lifted her legs and draped them in turn over my shoulders, laying back safe in the knowledge that her demure slave girl would continue to service her dutifully until she reached whatever peaks of pleasure she sought and desired.
20
.
Anne-Marie's satisfaction took a long time arriving and an even longer time lasting, or so it seemed. By the time she finally released her multiple grips on me I felt as if I had a terminal case of lockjaw and my mouth and throat tasted of her for a long while afterwards, during which time she stretched out into an exhausted sleep and I lay beside her on the huge bed, still cuffed and fettered, still collared and leashed, an obedient and very tired little bitch puppy at her mistress's feet.
How little we know of ourselves, I thought, and how much less we understand. I shifted my head slightly and gazed at myself from beneath thick eyelashes, wondering just how I had managed to allow myself to get into this position and, even worse, why it was that I didn't seem to be resenting it. A few weeks - days even - previously, if someone had so much as suggested...
And what if Anne-Marie had been a man? Would I have accepted all this with so much docility? Would I ever consider allowing a man to treat me like this? Her ancestor (he was probably mine, too, thinking about it) had shown me scant respect and I'd suffered at his hands and at the hands of Meg, and even the giant Erik.
Or had I suffered? Surely that had only been a dream, or some sort of hallucination. Leaving aside the physical time anomaly, I must have imagined all that. The alternative was to believe I really had travelled back in time and that theory posed even more unanswered and unanswerable questions than the dream theory. But what did that have to do with the here and now?
This was no illusion, no nightmare. I tested my wrist cuffs: secure as ever they were real enough, as was this beautiful female who held my leash firmly even in her sated slumber. My bare little mound was no figment either, and I wished I could bring my hands around in front for I wanted to touch myself there, to experience its smoothness for myself.
No, dammit, I wanted to masturbate. I peered up to where Anne-Marie's blonde tresses obscured her face. It was so unfair! Okay, so she'd given me a climax earlier, but then I'd spent the gods only knew how long in repaying the compliment several times over, only to be as good as abandoned when she was finally through. It really was just like being a slave and, for all her gentleness, in her own way she was as hard a mistress as Meg, if ever so slightly more sane and a great deal less spiteful.
I gave out a low moan, sheer frustration bubbling over into audibility and considered whether I should try to wake Anne-Marie. After all, what could she do to me? She had hinted that she might decide to spank me, I recalled, but then so what? I had the safe word if things got too much and besides, a mere spanking palled into insignificance compared to the thrashing I'd had at...
No! I shook my head fiercely, the motion transmitting itself through my shoulders to my breasts, which set up a mocking little duet until I rolled over and stilled their bells against the bedclothes beneath me. No, that wasn't real. The thrashings, Erik, Gregory ravishing me, all those were nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination.