tagLesbian SexCarried Away Ch. 03

Carried Away Ch. 03

bySweetArtemis©

During the following days and weeks it became obvious that I had a serious problem. I had fallen in love with a goddess so lovely she made me tremble. Just to be seated in her vicinity and watch her do anything at all was enough to keep me sizzling. I belonged to her and she knew it. Whatever I was before, I was now Gail's property to be disposed of as she wished.

Now three weeks had passed, and one day in the office Marsha guessed something had happened to me. She looked amused. "Rachel, you're in love with someone."

I blushed. "I've met someone, but maybe it won't last."

She laughed. "Tell me about him. Is he handsome?"

I brushed the question aside. If she thought my lover was a man, I wasn't ready yet to tell her the truth. Then she said:

"You're wearing high heels every day now. Is that because of him? Of course it is. Good for you, Rachel. You look sexy in heels."

I was happy she approved. Yes, the heels were for my lover. Gail liked me in three- or four-inch heels and they did make me feel sexy. I wanted to feel sexy all day for Gail.

After lunch, I sat in Marsha's office reviewing with her a proposal she would make at a client's offices that afternoon. As we discussed the last pages of the proposal, she noticed a stain on her blouse and said she would change it while I finished reading the proposal to her. She had a closet in the her office where she kept some spare clothes. I had seen her change shirts or blouses or even a dress a number of times. She was a lovely woman, attractive to look at, especially her large bust in a full bra, glimpses of fullness as she removed a blouse or shirt and slipped into something else. She was motherly and sexy at the same time. Could she tell my gaze was no longer neutral? My affair with Gail kept me so sexually primed, it was impossible to look at Marsha half dressed without feeling a buzz of desire.

Finally Marsha left for her meeting and I sat alone at my desk in the outer office. Nearly a hundred people were still working on the three floors occupied by the agency, but with Marsha gone I could relax awhile. I certainly needed to relax. I wondered if people noticed how edgy I'd been lately. My three weeks with Gail had so far been marvelous but also terribly unsettling. Gail could be sweet and seductive, but her sweetness never diminished her control of me. And control, after all, was what had brought us together--my need to be controlled by her and Gail's evident need to exercise that control. We were a match, but how long would it last and how much would I be hurt when it ended? I dreaded another rejection. My ex-husband's drinking had been a rejection of me, and before him and after him rejections by others had happened in different ways, always with the same ending--my despair.

I told myself I was a lost soul. I yearned for Gail's sweetness, but I yearned even more to be controlled by her.

Her whims governed me. She liked to fondle my breasts, to get my nipples erect and pinch them. We both understood that my nakedness in her presence while she was fully dressed was for the most part merely an announcement of my servitude--my willingness to serve her whims and pleasures. She liked my nipples to be erect, and when we were together it seemed they were always stiff with arousal, sometimes from the way she pinched them, or merely from her looking at my nakedness with lust in her eyes.

One evening, as we sat in her apartment, she explained to me that she was selfish, and that she did not do anything in half measure, that the result of our relationship would be that she would possess me completely.

"Will you be able to accept that?"

"Yes."

She sighed. "I've had women say yes before, and then sooner or later there's resistance and the bubble pops. When you chew bubble gum and blow a bubble and the bubble pops, it usually pops all over your face. I don't like to have bubbles pop in my face. Do you understand me, sweets?"

"Yes."

I was naked as usual, sitting naked except for my shoes while she was still dressed. She looked at my legs and suddenly changed the subject. "You have sexy legs. Are those new shoes?"

"No, I've had these awhile." They were the black high-heeled pumps that I'd worn to work, but my pantyhose were on a chair in the guest room and my legs were now bare.

She smiled again. "Pretty shoes. Stand up, sweetie."

I rose to my feet and stood there waiting. I could never predict what she wanted. What she wanted always depended on her mood of the moment. Now her mood involved my backside, since she made turn so she could look at it. I felt her palms stroking my cheeks.

"Nice," she said. "Your body is nicer than you think."

"My bum is too big."

She laughed and pinched my right buttock. "Don't be silly, I love your ass. Didn't I tell you that?"

"Yes."

"You have a good solid ass."

I blushed as I felt her pry my cheeks apart. I knew what she was looking at--and of course it thrilled me. No one had ever looked at me there, not like this. She owned me. When I was with Gail, the world around me seemed totally and completely forgotten and beyond all caring as the focus of my existence was my serving her and having her look at the intimacies of my body.

Was it a love relationship? I wasn't certain. I was too inexperienced with anyone like Gail. We hardly ever pleasured each other at the same time, which I thought only fitting since I understood that her pleasure was more important than my pleasure, and in fact my own pleasure depended on her pleasure. That was weird because she was the first person in my life who made me s feel that way.

When we were in bed, I loved it when she lay on top of me between my thighs, her strap-on cock grinding into me as I clutched the cheeks of her ass. She had several cocks, but she used only one with me after I told her it resembled my ex-husband's penis. Maybe she wanted to remind me that she was a better lover than my ex-husband. I wasn't happy about being reminded of him, but I liked the cock because it was hers.

When she used the cock, she would sometimes first take me from behind with her fingers, two fingers curled inside my vagina and her thumb stretching my anus. I became used to it. I suppose you can get used to anything provided it doesn't hurt. Her thumb never hurt me and I did like it in there. She knew I liked it. She seemed to know everything about me.

Sometimes she took me with her fingers while we stood beside each other in front of a full-length mirror. She looked so angular and lean next to me, she made me feel plump. But except for my ass I was more slender than plump. When she took me with her fingers that way, she would have her hand behind me and between my cheeks with her fingers socked into my vagina and her thumb in my anus. She knew how to do it. She would keep at it until I had an orgasm in front of the mirror.

What I waited for, desperate to have it, was an invitation to move in with her. But during those first three weeks, the invitation never came.

***

That afternoon, the afternoon that Marsha went off to make a proposal to a prospective client, Gail telephoned me. She wanted me to visit her that evening.

"Can you make it?"

"Yes of course."

"All right, come here right after work and we'll order an early Chinese dinner. I'm not cooking. I've had a nasty day and you can help me relax."

Helping her relax meant sex, and as usual I was thrilled at the prospect of a few hours with her. At least she wasn't tired of me yet. I was certain that would happen eventually, but so far she still wanted me.

When I arrived at Gail's apartment, I could see she'd had a nasty day.

"I hate Wall Street," she said. "It's nothing but a barrel of wriggling worms."

"Would it be possible for me to use your shower?"

She waved a hand at me. "Go on."

"You don't mind?"

"I said go on."

After a grimy day, I badly needed a shower. I rushed through it to avoid irritating her. When I hurried back to find my purse, I had nothing but a towel wrapped around my body.

Gail scowled at me. "Get rid of the towel, sweetie. I told you I want you naked when you're here."

I dropped the towel. "I just needed my purse."

As I stood naked, she came in front of me, took hold of my right breast with her left hand and slid her right hand over my belly and then down to my sex. Her fingers spread my labia open and slid into my vagina.

"Did you think about me today?"

I blushed. "Yes. I always think about you."

Her fingers felt wonderful inside me. When she saw that I was responding, she started rubbing my clitoris with her thumb. I closed my eyes and spread my legs a bit. I wanted to come and it would happen soon. When I opened my eyes again, I found her gaze fixed on me. She kept her eyes on my face as I came, watching every instant of my orgasm. I was used to it. She often did it to me that way, watching me as if she could read every thought and feeling in my mind.

After that she said I should remain where I was and she left me in the living room, went somewhere and returned holding a pair of shoes and some stockings.

"Wear these," she said.

The shoes were red high-heeled pumps, the stockings opaque black with elastic red tops. I took the stockings and shoes and my purse and returned to the bathroom to do my face and dress for her.

I was certain the red color would make me look like some whore in a Degas painting. Should I be thrilled or dismayed? But if I was a whore, I was Gail's whore. I sat down on the commode and put on the stockings and shoes. The shoes were a perfect fit and more comfortable than I expected. I put on some light makeup and painted my lips.

When I returned to living room, I found Gail on the sofa reading a magazine. She put the magazine down and looked me. She seemed pleased. "Yes, that's nice," she said.

She told me to walk. She made me walk around in front of her to display myself. Did the red shoes and black stockings involve some fantasy she had? She looked so elegant sitting there in white silk trousers and a black shirt with silver cuff links. Exhibiting my body to her aroused me tremendously. I hoped she would make love to me soon, but instead I had to keep walking.

Finally she told me to stop walking and come close to her. She ran her hands over my thighs and laughed when she looked up at my face. "You look like a hungry little animal," she said. She slid her hand upward between my thighs, fingered my sex and pinched my labia. She wiped her wet fingers on my belly and pushed me away. "I'll order dinner," she said.

So I set the dinner table for us, put out the plates and cutlery and napkins. I felt like a maid, but without a maid's uniform

When the food arrived, Gail took the package at the door, then brought the food into the kitchen and said she had some calls to make and would be in her office. Would I mind getting our meal ready? She turned and left me. I felt no resentment. I was there of my own choosing, wasn't I? I told myself I'd be silly to resent her using me when I'd offered to be used and wanted it. Having her use me like this actually thrilled me: it meant she needed me. She was a busy woman, doing whatever she did in her career. I had only a vague idea of what managing money meant, but it certainly kept her busy. Whatever I did for her was of help to her. During the day I assisted Marsha and now in the evening I was assisting Gail. That at the moment I wore no clothes and looked like a Degas whore seemed irrelevant. I would rather be naked with Gail than not be with Gail at all, and when I was naked and Gail looked at me with lust in her eyes, everything became justified.

So naked as I was, wearing only shoes and heels, I worked in the kitchen while Gail did her work in her office. I brought the food to the dinner table and covered the dishes to keep the food warm. Then I went to Gail's office to announce that dinner was ready. She was talking into a cell phone, but she sat on the couch and not behind her desk. When she saw me standing at the doorway, she made a signal with her hand that she wanted me to stand in front of her. When I did that, she ran her fingers through my pubic hair as she talked into the phone. Her touch aroused me tremendously and I had to steady myself to avoid trembling. When she lowered her fingers to my sex, I willingly moved my legs apart enough to make myself available to her.

Then her hand pulled at my arm, urging me downward. She wanted me on my knees. When I was down on my knees in front of her, while still holding the phone in her left hand, she pointed at her shoes. She wanted her shoes off. So I removed her shoes, the supple Italian black loafers she always wore. Then she started undoing her belt with her right hand. I shifted forward on my knees to help her, and together we succeeded in tugging her trousers and panties down her thighs and off her legs. Now she wore only beige hold-up stockings below her waist.

I had no hesitation. I knew what she wanted and I was thrilled to give it to her. Giving her this was what I thought about whenever we were apart and whenever we were together. She knew it; she knew whatever there was to know about me.

The phone still in her left hand and at her left ear, she spread her thighs wide. At once I leaned forward and started kissing the insides of her thighs above her stockings, wet kisses on the soft skin as I worked my way upward. She put her hand on my head at the moment I finally buried my face in her sex.

Gail continuing talking into the telephone. I had no idea who she was talking to. Was it a man or a woman? She lifted her right leg, planted her foot on the edge of the seat and swung her knee to the right to give me all the access I needed.

I had only a single focus. My eyes closed, I communed with her cunt. I sucked, nibbled, licked, sometimes gently chewing and pulling at her fleshy labia with my lips and teeth the way I'd learned gave her the most obvious pleasure. I was Gail's Degas whore and I'd learned whatever I needed to know to give her the pleasure she wanted.

She finally finished the telephone call, snapped the phone shut and placed it on the couch beside her. Using both hands, she pulled my face more firmly into her sex, the usual signal for me to use my nose and mouth to vigorously rub her clitoris until she shuddered through an orgasm. Her climaxes were hardly ever vocal, usually a physical shuddering from head to toe with her eyes tightly shut.

I held her ass as she came, the only time I felt free to do it. I held her cheeks in my hands as my face pressed against her wet sex, my body bent like the body of a bent supplicant before a goddess.

That's what I was--a supplicant. She allowed me to remain like that awhile, and I took advantage of her benevolence to lick and suck as much of her juices as I could, gathering her fluids in my mouth as though I were gathering the nectar of some exotic fruit.

But it didn't last. She finally pushed me away. "Enough, sweetie. You're always so hungry for it."

I blushed and mumbled something about our dinner. "It's getting cold."

"Yes, I know, darling. Stand up and let me look at you in those pretty stockings again."

I rose and stood before her. She seemed please with me. I no longer blushed when she inspected me this way. I was used to it now, accustomed to her appraisal, her whims, her judgments. I belonged to her and she could do as she wished with me.

She ran her hands over my hips, and down my thighs, and then over my belly. She danced her fingers over my labia, then pulled her hands away. "Open it," she said.

The way she said it and the way she looked at me made me feel as though I had a precious flower down there that she merely wanted to look at more closely. But of course few things were more intimate than this. I blushed as I opened myself with my fingers, peeled my labia open to expose my hole, my core, the leaking entrance that hungered for her fingers.

She studied it a moment, then lifted her eyes to mine and stroked my face with her fingertips. "Excited?"

"I love you."

"And I love you too. Let's have our dinner and then take care of this little pussy. If you want to clean up, I'll meet you at the table."

I hurried to the bathroom to wash my face and repaint my lips. I decided to use a bright red shade. I usually thought the bright red color garish, but this time the shade was an exact match for my red shoes and the red tops of my black stockings. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror attached to the bathroom door. I liked the way I looked. I turned sideways to look at my bum and I liked the way that looked too. Gail had made me feel that every inch of my body was sexual and desirable.

At the dinner table, I sat naked while Gail wore a knee-length blue silk robe that made her look completely alluring. As we ate our dinner, her eyes kept returning to my naked breasts, and then finally she said, "Would you mind your nipples pierced? I think I'd like it."

I nodded. "Yes, if you want it."

"I know someone who's good at it. Maybe I'll take you there tomorrow. Would you like rings or barbells?"

"Whatever you like."

"Barbells, then. Silver little barbells to give you a precious look."

After dinner, Gail returned to her office while I cleaned up the table. I carried the dishes into the kitchen, then stowed them in the dishwasher and started the machine. I left the kitchen and went to the bathroom to wash up. When I came out of the bathroom, I found Gail standing near the bed wearing a strap-on.

She smiled at me. "I can't look at you without wanting to fuck you."

I blushed. As usual, her lust thrilled me. She came to me, took me in her arms and tongued my earlobe. She nipped my ear with her teeth and said she was too tired to make love all night. "We'll make up for it another time." Then she gently pushed at my shoulders and I went to my knees and took her cock in my mouth.

I always loved sucking it, loved it because it was hers and because it obviously excited her to watch my mouth on it. I held the base of it with my hands and sucked at the tip. The head was shaped like a glans. What was reality? This was a cock in my mouth, more real to me than my ex-husband's cock had ever been, more real to me because I adored the woman who had the cock more than I had ever adored any man.

Gail finally made me stop sucking the cock. She urged me onto the bed. I lay down on my back with my legs raised and open. She came to me on her knees, supported herself with her left arm and used her right hand to guide the cock into my vagina. When she had the tip inside, she thrust forward and buried her cock in me. When she lay on me, I spread my thighs and then closed them around her churning hips.

She fucked me like a man would, which made it all the more exciting for me. I wanted her thrusting inside me. I wanted her force, the possession by her cock as it vigorously slid in and out of my hole.

Then she wanted another position. As usual, she was aggressive, pulling at my body to make me kneel on the bed with my hips raised. She kissed the small of my back as her palms roamed over my ass.

"Your ass is so hot," she said.

The words thrilled me. How wonderful it was to have some part of me turn her on like that. I swayed my hips from side to side to show her how much I loved her words.

She entered me. In this position I could feel every inch of it, the cock pushing in and stretching me the most at its base, then pulling out and tickling the opening before pushing in again.

While she fucked me, she wanted details about my marriage, what I had done sexually with my husband, what I liked and what I disliked in bed with him. This was the first time she had ever asked about him. But in the throes of her fucking me, I could barely find the memories she wanted. She chuckled at my efforts. As she worked a finger into my anus, she leaned over me and breathed into my ear: "I'm going to take you here next time. Will you be ready for me?"

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