Alys in Soapland

'I'm being marked,' she thought half-rationally. 'I'm being claimed. And she's using my own hands to do it. I'm giving myself to her with my own hands.'

Alys accepted more gel and pressed in between her own curving buttocks with her fingers, shivering at the intensity of touching herself there under this woman's eyes. And that was only the beginning. She strained to coat her own back in gel. She used her tongue to smooth it across her arms, then stroked hands wet with gel and saliva across her high, firm breasts. Her nipples were already achingly erect, and she couldn't help but pinch and tweak them as she lubed herself up. The Lady smiled knowingly at that. Alys wondered if she could feel the sharp, delicious pain in her breasts too, the same way Alys had imagined the Lady's pleasure while servicing her. She thought so. It only made her more avid to stimulate herself, to share the sensation. She caressed her throat and cheeks, then let her hands slip smoothly down her breasts, her sides and belly, along her abdomen, and in one fluid stroke deep between her legs.

"Aaah!" She gasped aloud. The Lady breathed in sharply with her. Driven by some urge to bare herself, Alys spread her labia and let her Lady see everything, her most private place glistening with more than gel. She let this woman, before today unknown to her, see her wetness, her body's desperation, her shameful, shameless desire. It was almost like a form of begging, to display herself so clearly. Like begging, and like surrender. Her voice burst from her before she could stop herself.

"Mmmnn, my Lady, it feels so good! Please let me come! Please!" Alys moaned. She wanted to plunge her fingers into herself, to trail her own juices up and finger her clit until she came right there before her Lady. She curved her wrist, telegraphing the movement, letting her Lady see it...

"Wait."

Alys nearly screamed at yet another delay when she was so close to release. The Lady smiled and continued,

"Say you'll work for me, and you'll have your sweet rewards. The payment for those in my service is jam every other day. You get jam tomorrow, and jam yesterday. Will you do it?"

"Yes, whatever you want! Anything! Please, I need this!" Alys cried again. Some part of her foggy brain wondered what this strange woman meant by jam tomorrow and jam yesterday. Did that mean it would never come to "jam today," that she would never get the release she needed so badly?

"Good, Arisu." The dark liquid voice cooed. Then, she added, "Well, there always has to be a first payment...so come this way."

She seized Alys by the wrist, pulling her fingers from her sex. Alys gave a yelp that was half frustration and half eagerness, and picked up her feet to follow the Lady's swift steps.

It was not many steps at all before the couple came to a little room attached to the main bathing room. In it was another sight Alys had never seen before. It seemed to be an inflatable air mattress, but with a rim. It was rubber. It was yellow. It was...

"A life raft?" Alys asked aloud in puzzlement.

"'Life raft'?" The Lady repeated in English. Alys realized she'd slipped out of Japanese, and tried to translate.

"A...living boat? A ship of life? No, that's not right."

But the Lady only laughed.

"You will come alive here, and it will transport you. Yes, a ship of life, that's what it is."

Alys couldn't tell if she was being mocked, and she didn't get much chance to think about it after that. Without warning, the Lady hooked her feet out from under her and dropped her backwards onto the mattress so hard it took her breath away. She felt her body, prone, helpless, and slippery against the warm rubber. The Lady used one elegant foot to spread Alys' legs and expose her completely. To add insult to injury, she slipped Alys' ankles into two straps on the bottom of the mattress. She raised Alys' arms too, and bound her wrists using matching straps at the top. Then she just stood and looked down at her for a long minute, savouring the sight. Alys felt at once powerless and incredibly desirable. She felt beautiful and valuable and vulnerable all at once. Again, that desperate, objectless plea escaped her lips:

"Please...please, my Lady..." she panted in heat.

The Lady spoke but one word.

"Now."

At that, she arced her own graceful body down and slid, surface to surface, across Alys' oversensitive, overstimulated skin. With her entire body, her breasts and her strong thighs, the Lady began to massage Alys. Or perhaps "massage" was not quite what she did. Rather than serving Alys, it was as if she were using Alys' bound limbs as props for her pleasure. She rubbed her sex against Alys' legs and hips in a way that made the bound girl feel used in the most erotic way possible. Alys spasmed as she thought,

'My entire body is her toy, her playground. I can't do anything more now, I can only submit and be used, and oh, feel it, feel it!'

At what the Lady did next, even such wild and incoherent thoughts were completely driven from her mind by the sheer overload of sensation. As the stony-haired woman slipped her entire body up and down against Alys', she began to dig harder and arch deeper into Alys' centre line, flexing her hips in increasingly small and fast waves. As she did so, she slid something down between their slick bodies: the narrow, ridged plastic handle of something, curved and hooked in such a way that it caught at Alys' clit –and by the sound of it, at the Lady's too. Alys gave tiny cries, high and breathlessly faint as a skylark, over and over as the Lady rocked her hips, pressed down, and pulled up on the curving thing between them. The Lady's breasts ground exquisitely into her own. The handle caught between their legs hard enough to make them both jerk up, pulled by their twinned clits so deep that their lips met around the plastic. As one woman they cried out the pleasure of an orgasm denied so long as to become an unstoppable tide. Alys came hard once, then again, and a third time all in a row, each wave following and amplifying the last. She felt the Lady regain control of her body first, but to her mixed embarrassment and ecstasy, she was lost in such a state of release that all the Lady had to do was shift the baton minutely, and she would come again. All the pleasure she had hoarded for so many years was finally released, and it took her over completely. The Lady kept her going, wringing the pleasure out of her, building her up again and again after each orgasm, until finally she screamed one last time in total abandon and went totally, deliciously slack, cradled in the ship of life.

Alys cried, afterwards. She had never experienced such a powerful release, and with her physical barriers broken down, there was nothing to hold back the torrent of her emotions. In fact, she couldn't have said whether she was crying or laughing: it was simply the flow of pure intensity. The Lady held her as she shook and stroked her, whispering countless times, "Oh, Arisu. Oh, my good girl, my Arisu." Alys lost all sense of time. She might have been held like that for twenty minutes or two hours. It didn't matter. All that mattered was her Lady's body, warm and softened with her own exhaustion, but steady as her even breath against Alys' tearful face.

When Alys was more or less calm again, the Lady washed them both off with a soft cloth and a flexible showerhead set to a warm, gentle stream. She put on her slick white robe and toweled Alys down. Then, while Alys was still quite naked and fresh, the Lady took her hand. In a distinct, formal tone, she said

"Alys. Welcome to Soapland."

Very slightly, she bowed.

Alys bowed back deeply.

When Alys straightened again, the Lady turned and handed her something: the basket with her clothes. She didn't say a word, but Alys understood what the gesture meant. It was time to go back through the looking glass. Time to wake up. She opened her mouth to beg a few more minutes, but the other woman looked away, and Alys couldn't bear to break the delicate surface tension between joy and sadness. And so she pulled on her still-damp panties and bra, her skirt and blouse, in bittersweet silence.

The Lady guided her, equally quiet, out through the convoluted hallways. Alys caught tantalizing glimpses of other rooms with other equipment: tables with bars inset into the ceiling above them, massager machines, stranger things that she couldn't identify. They flashed by like fragmented wisps of dream on the cusp of waking and were gone. At the door, the Lady handed Alys her white coat, her passport back into the outer world. Alys' trembling arm dipped under the weight of her phone and keys in the pockets. The everyday seemed to rush back into her world, recalling all the solitude she faced there.

"No. I can't." She said, almost inaudibly. Then her voice rose. "I can't go back to that silence!"

"Don't be silent, then." The Lady replied. "Sing. Sing about the Soapland. About touch. About me. Sing my praises. I'll hear them. And they will lead you back to me."

"I can come back?"

The Lady looked at her, head tilted, as if it were patently obvious.

"Always. You belong here now. Because you belong to me."

Then she opened the door.

Alys stepped out with a glad heart into the chequered night.