Heart Strings Ch. 01

Come Saturday morning and I knew I had to do something. My whole life was in turmoil and I was running out of options. If Sandra was going to ignore me then why did she have to invade my dreams and invade my life? I was convinced that seeing her endlessly in Yates's the night before had been another one of her tricks. I knew where she lived. I would have to go round there and plead for mercy and ask her to stop. And, if she wouldn't stop, then I would have to plead for something else.

I got up and went to the bathroom where I washed my hands and face and I was busy brushing my teeth when I saw her in the mirror. She was peering over my shoulder. I spun around but, of course, there was no one there. I turned back to the mirror and there she was again. I just had to close my eyes and get on with it. But if brushing my teeth had been hard then putting on my makeup was a nightmare. This time I couldn't close my eyes and was constantly aware of the gaze over my shoulder. In a state of near desperation I looked straight at her reflection, looking to plead for some respite and that's when I realised, it wasn't her.

Sure, it looked like her and, in each of my quick glances, I had become convinced it was her, but, now our eyes had met I could see that the eyes that stared back at me weren't her eyes.

And with that the apparition vanished.

I was shaking like a leaf and there was no way I could make an even passable job of my makeup, so I just wiped off what little I had applied and let it go at that. I got dressed in jeans and a tee shirt and made my way round to the block of flats where Sandra lived. It was one of those abominations they seemed to have built everywhere in the sixties. The lift smelled of urine but at least it worked. Funnily enough, it hadn't seemed that bad the last time I had been there but I suppose that was down to the enchantment that Sandra had laid on me. Whilst I was her escort nothing was going to ruin that night. I found her flat and knocked on the peeling paint of the front door.

At first there was no answer but I hadn't come half way across town to be turned away so I knocked again and this time, after a bit of a wait, the door was opened. A rather dishevelled Sandra appeared, dressed in a housecoat and slippers. She seemed surprised to see me. More than that, she seemed genuinely frightened.

"Go away! You mustn't.... you shouldn't....," she stuttered as she started to close the door. In the time honoured fashion I put my foot in the way to stop her.

"Sandra, please, I have to sort this out," I replied.

"But... but... but...."

And then a change seemed to come over her. It was as if she had become a different woman. She stood up straighter and the fear just slipped from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry. Where are my manners? Come on in," she said brightly. She opened the door wide and motioned me into the house.

"Go on through to the lounge," she said as she closed the door behind me. "What would you like, tea or coffee?"

I went on through and sat on the sofa while she went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. When she reappeared she was carrying two cups of tea, which she put down on the coffee table. She then sat in an armchair opposite me.

"Now then, what brings you all the way over town to see little me?" she asked.

"Please, Sandra, whatever you're doing, please, can you stop?"

"Whatever I'm doing?" she said as if genuinely surprised. "But I haven't done anything. I mean, apart from our delightful date the other evening and those beautiful roses you brought me, we've hardly spoken a word. Whatever do you mean?"

"Please, Sandra, don't be cruel. I don't know how you do it but that marionette, it's messing with my mind and I just can't take it any more."

"Marionette? Do you mean this one?" She scrabbled around in her handbag and fetched out the marionette, "Why, it's just a silly little toy. Mind you, it can be quite fun to play with."

While she was talking she had been untangling the strings and she now had it dangling freely from the control bar. She held it in her right hand in such a way that she could reach the strings with the tips of her fingers. Then she held it over the coffee table and lowered it down so that the feet were dragged backwards and it was kneeling. Just as it had been in the office I could only match its movements so I found myself dragged off the sofa and onto the floor until I too was on my knees. Any protest, any desire to cry out, was stifled by the way that, once again, my lips were glued together.

"Look, I can make it nod its head," Sandra said, tugging at the relevant string. My head nodded furiously as if it were attached to the same strings. "Would you like to dance, little marionette, would you?"

The marionette and I both nodded our head.

She jerked the marionette to its feet and, rocking the control bar back and forth, made it do a little dance. So far I was still kneeling but I knew what was coming.

"Would you like to dance, Julie?" she asked. The marionette nodded its head and so did I. I leapt to my feet and, with Sandra singing a merry 'la la la', the marionette and I leapt about frenetically. To call it dancing would be stretching a point, we certainly weren't going to win any prizes on 'Strictly' but it was energetic and vaguely in time to her singing. At last she had had enough and she let the me and the marionette flop. I would have been gasping for breath but, with my mouth sealed, all I could do was breathe heavily through my nose.

"But I don't think you came here just to dance for me," she continued. "Is this what you want?"

She sat back in her chair and put the marionette down on her stomach. Then she kicked off the slipper from her right foot and held it out in front of her. This was just like in the dream and, unable to do otherwise, I fell back to my knees and shuffled forward. However, the closer I got the harder it was to move. When my lips were all but an inch from her toes I could go no further. I was straining not just to reach but also to open my lips. I could feel the sweat beading on my brow and the tendons in my neck standing out.

"Just a little more," Sandra mocked, "just a little harder."

The two ways in which she controlled me fought against each other. My will, my desire, my need was driving me forward but, countering that, was the way I was physically held back. There were no actual strings attached to me but there might as well have been. My wrists were pulled back behind me and my head simply refused to move.

"Maybe if you asked," Sandra said and, with that, my lips were freed.

"Please, please, Sandra," I said, nearly in tears.

"Please, what? What is it that you want?"

"Please, let me kiss your toes."

"Why would I let you do that?"

"Please, Sandra, please, I beg you, please." I could hear how pathetic I sounded but I couldn't help myself. "I'll do anything you want."

"Anything I want, just for kissing my toes?" She wriggled her foot in front of my face.

I reached out with my tongue and, by putting every ounce of effort into it, I managed to tickle the tips of her toes. I have no idea what it did for her but it was as if every tickle of her toes was transferred directly to my clit. I shuddered and pushed myself forward with renewed vigour. All thoughts of why I had come here were gone, my sole focus was to lick her toes and lose myself in all the pleasures that brought. Teasingly she pulled her foot away. I forced myself forward and, at that moment, she released whatever was holding me back and I fell flat on my face.

I lay, face down on the carpet, sobbing endlessly, "Please, Sandra, please". I was broken, destroyed, I had no pride left. She could do whatever she wanted with me; I wouldn't fight it any more.

And then I felt her toes nuzzle against my lips. Gently I pushed the tip of my tongue out and, this time, she didn't pull away. Grateful, truly grateful to be allowed to worship I caressed her toes with my tongue and with my lips. While there wasn't quite the urgency of last time, this was still one of the most sexual acts I had ever done. The little bit of me, the bit that stays 'me' however much Sandra is in control, that bit was horrified. I was squirming on the floor, licking her feet and loving every second of it. My hand even delved into under the waistband of my jeans and into my panties. Shamelessly, I was frigging myself in front of Sandra.

I looked up at her, she smiled at me and I was grateful, grateful that she would allow me to debase myself like this. She glanced at her knees and I just knew what she wanted. I pulled my hand from my crotch, struggled up off the floor and started kissing her knees. This was a start but I wanted more. I put my hands on her thighs, pushing up the hem of her housecoat and gently eased her knees apart. Tenderly, lovingly, I caressed her thighs with my lips. Moving slowly but surely towards my goal, I could smell her warmth, her intoxicating warmth and I wanted to taste her sweetness. I pushed again at her housecoat, unbuttoning it where it fastened down the front. As it fell away I could see my destiny, as yet still covered by pink cotton panties with a little heart motif.

I kissed her mons through the cotton of the panties. The smell, her smell, was intoxicating. With my teeth I nipped at the waistband and tugged gently, more to show what I wanted rather than to actually pull them down. Again I glanced up at her, pleading with my eyes and mewing gently.

"Oh, Julie!" she exclaimed, "you can be so sweet when you want to be. Do you want me to take my panties off?"

Still holding the waistband of her panties in my teeth I nodded. She pushed me gently away, picked up the marionette, and stood up. She undid the rest of the buttons of her housecoat so that it hung open and then pushed down her panties and stepped out of them. She hadn't been wearing a bra and, as I gazed up from where I knelt on the floor, her open housecoat framed her naked body. To my eyes she looked gorgeous, a goddess, and it was a privilege to be allowed to worship.

She held this pose for a while before sitting back down again, lying back in the chair with her knees apart. She placed the marionette on her stomach, its head just below her breasts, its feel dangling just above her pubic bush.

"Come now, Julie," she said softly, "you know what to do."

Did I know what to do? I had never gone down on another woman before, indeed, up until that moment I could not have conceived of even wanting to go down on another woman but various boyfriends had gone down on me over the years so I understood the basics and, after all, her body wasn't that different from mine. I shuffled forward once again, rested my forearms on her thighs, leant forward, nuzzled into her pubic hair and reached with my tongue for her slit.

Oh, bliss! My whole body thrilled to the taste of her nectar. As my tongue teased apart her nether lips and explored her nooks and crannies my whole being knew that this was right, this was where I wanted to be, this was where I was meant to be. Slowly, gently, lovingly, so that we could both savour every moment, I ran my tongue along her inner lips up towards, but not quite reaching, her clitty. Ooh, yes, that was my ultimate goal but we both needed to savour every part of the journey, not just the final destination.

And I just knew I was doing it right. Her pleasure was like a warm glow, a glow that engulfed me. As her passions rose so did mine and, when the tip of my tongue brushed against the tip of her clitty, both our bodies felt the rush, both our bodies tingled with pleasure. I'd had great sex before but never had I felt so connected to my partner, never had I felt so strongly that my partner's pleasure was my pleasure, that we were one entity flowing together towards nirvana.

It was this link, this connection, that let me know when she needed me to go a little harder, a little firmer, when she needed me to concentrate more on the ever growing nub of her clit. And, as I was giving her exactly what she wanted so, she too, was giving me what I wanted. Together we crested a wave but I knew I wasn't to stop and, as we relaxed again afterwards, we both understood that this was only the first of many. We could go higher, we would go higher. As my tongue flick- flick- flicked across the core of her pleasure I could feel the growing tension inside her, I could feel her climbing, step by step towards the peak of Mount Ecstasy because, in a very real way, I could feel it too. I was right there beside her.

And then we reached the wave that wouldn't break. This was the one; we both knew this was the one. Higher and higher we strove together, nearly there, nearly there, oh so nearly....

Sandra threw back her head and gave a cry of pure animal pleasure. Her juices flooded from her and I lapped up every drop as if my life depended on it. Her body arched, lifting her off the chair and I followed every movement, teasing out every last trickle as we rode the wave all the way to its end.

Enough, she could take no more, I could take no more and, as she collapsed back into the chair, I collapsed too, still slumped over her, my head now resting in her lap. The whole world seemed to fill with the afterglow of her climax and I was bathed in a sea of well-being. Although I had not actually come, I too felt that deep contentment that can normally only be achieved from a first class orgasm. I started to drift away. For the first time since this madness had started I felt that all was well with the world. I could have knelt there forever, resting my head in Sandra's lap, waiting to find out how I could serve her next. The little voice, the 'real me' voice, was all but silenced and I could hardly hear her protests. It was similarly easy to ignore a vague sensation that somewhere someone was laughing at us.

After a few minutes Sandra shivered and pulled her housecoat back around herself. She tousled my hair and looked down at me, a big smile on her face. I so desired her approval that I felt the same sort of pleasure that a puppy must feel when rewarded for successfully retrieving a ball. If I had had a tail I certainly would have wagged it.

"Is that better?" she asked.

"Yes, Sandra, thank you, Sandra," I replied, although the little voice at the back of my head wondered quite why I was grateful for giving her an orgasm.

"And now we're friends again we must spend the day together. What fun we'll have!" she gushed. "We can't sit around here all morning, we have so many things to do. You tidy up in here while I take a shower."

And so it was that, while she went off for her shower I started in on her housework. She took her time and, in the meanwhile, I was going round with the vacuum cleaner and straightening the cushions.

"Oh, splendid! You have done a nice job. I must get you to do my bedroom later," she said when she reappeared.

"Your bedroom? I'd love to," I replied, and I meant it. Just as previously she had made me want to be her dinner companion, now she was making me want to be her domestic slave.

"But first we must go shopping. Oh, what fun we'll have! My coat, it's on a hook in the hallway. Be a darling, will you?"

I fetched her coat and helped her into it. Then we were off to Tesco's, which was heaving, as ever, on a Saturday morning. She was all over me, very touchy- feely and I was loving it. As I pushed the trolley round she laid her hand on my arm and pointed out which items to pick from the shelves. She was right, we were having a good girly morning, doing things together, sharing our lives. It was nigh on noon by the time we returned, with me carrying all the bags, of course, and, when we got to the lift, there already waiting, was an elderly lady.

"Hello, young Sandra," she said. "Is this your new friend?"

"Hello, Mrs Bates," Sandra replied. "Yes, this is Julie. Julie say hello to Mrs Bates."

"Hello, Mrs Bates," I said as I found myself giving a curtsey.

"Where's your manners, Julie, why aren't you offering to carry her bags?" Sandra ordered.

Mrs Bates handed me her shopping bag and, as if were the most natural thing in the world, I took it from her. She took a step back and looked me up and down.

"Is this the one you've been telling me about, the one from that office of yours?" she asked Sandra.

"Yes, Mrs Bates," Sandra replied, "this is her. Isn't she pretty?"

It gave me a thrill to be described as 'pretty', especially by Sandra.

"Looks a bit scrawny to me." She reached out and pinched the flesh of my arm. "I like a bit more meat on 'em. Still, I never could understand girls that want other girls. What's up? Can't you get the boy you want?"

"It's not like that, Mrs Bates, really it's not."

"Well, as long as you know your own mind." Mrs Bates seemed to find this hilarious and, to the sound of her cackling, we all got in the lift. We rode it up to the thirteenth floor and, together we walked along to a flat a few doors down from Sandra's. This turned out to be Mrs Bates' flat and, after she had let herself in, I took her shopping and put it on the kitchen table before returning outside to where Sandra was waiting.

"That's my neighbour," Sandra explained as we moved on to her front door. "She's a real sweetie."

"She seemed a darling," I replied and, whilst the voice at the back of my head screamed otherwise, I really meant it.

We went into Sandra's flat and, whilst I got on with the housework, Sandra watched TV. Now, I'm not normally the domesticated type. Sure, I like the place clean and tidy, who doesn't, but the whole 'cleanliness is next to godliness' bit passes me by. Having said that I scrubbed Sandra's kitchen from the top to the bottom and, when I'd finished and got the place sparkling, I felt proud that I had done so well. The washing and ironing got a similar treatment. In particular, Sandra has such a cute set of panties and they looked so lovely freshly washed and ironed.

At six o'clock I started on making our evening meal. I had splashed out at Tesco's and purchased a steak for Sandra and a pack of frozen hamburgers for myself. I laid the kitchen table for two. It didn't really feel right, me eating at the same table, but there was nowhere else so I hoped Sandra wouldn't mind putting up with me. However, in the end, she wanted to watch 'X Factor' so she had it off a tray on her lap and I ate alone in the kitchen.

After the meal I washed up, wiped down the kitchen, cleaned out the grill and then, finished at last, went on through to the lounge. I was a bit ashamed that I had been so busy that I hadn't had any time to spend with Sandra and had spoilt the girly afternoon she had planned. I hoped she wouldn't mind too much.

"I've finished in the kitchen," I said as I approached. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Shhh! I'm watching the telly! Wait there," Sandra ordered.

I knelt down beside her and, while she watched a rom-com, I watched her. It was as if I had never fully realised how pretty she is. I was mesmerised and, as the TV did its noisy thing, I just watched and watched and watched.

"There," she said as the credits rolled at the end of the film, "that's over, let's see to you. Ooh, you're all sweaty and smelly!"

She was right. I was still in the clothes I had been working in all day and was, as she said, sweaty and smelly.

"I'm sorry, Sandra, I didn't bring anything to change into," I replied.

"I can't help that. Come along, we need to get those clothes off you and get you under the shower. No, don't get up. I quite like you on your hands and knees. Scamper along now."

And scamper I did. I loved it when she gave me this much attention and, if it pleased her to have me scampering along her hallway like a puppy dog then, well, that gave me pleasure too. When I got to the bathroom I stayed on the floor as I stripped off my clothes. Sandra told me to put them next to the washing basket as I would have to wait until tomorrow to wash them. They couldn't go inside the basket, of course, because that would have soiled her clothes. Once I was naked I got under the shower. Sandra said that she wasn't going to waste hot water on me so I had to have it cold but that was invigorating and, although I was shivering like a mad thing when I had finished, at least I was clean.