tagBDSMKarrie's Story Ch. 01

Karrie's Story Ch. 01

byKaren St©

The following story is largely based upon fact. Only some names have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals concerned.

*****

This is the story of what happened to me in the summer of 2001. I am a school teacher at a secondary (11 to 18 years) school in Birmingham, the second largest city in England. At the time of the story I was 23 years old. I am 5’4 tall, slender and blonde. I had had lesbian relationships at university when I was 20 and 21, but I was far from experienced. I was much more used to going out with men, and was with a young man called Jerry for almost three years, starting at university, until the distances between us when we graduated put an end to that.

I had discovered the internet whilst a university, and particularly enjoyed chat websites. I became more and more drawn to talking to women on lesbian sites, where I found that I could relax and open up much more, instead of worrying whether the person I was talking to was some kind of stalker. On one of the sites I started chatting to an older lady who I shall call Caroline. She seemed very confident and this relaxed me as well, and I enjoyed chatting with her about lots of different things.

I discovered early on in our chats that she lived in England, and it turned out that she lived in a suburb or Leicester, which is about 30-odd miles from my place. We exchanged personal photographs, from which I could see that she was a well-built woman in her late thirties or early forties, with permed brown hair and a shapely, curvy figure. We developed our relationship until I felt confident about giving her my telephone number, and we spoke on that. This led to her inviting me over to her house one day in the summer of 2001. It was clear from our discussions that she was a woman used to getting her own way, and she told me when I was to come over, and what I was to wear. She had explained to me that she was a Domme; I had never heard of this before, but she said that it meant that she was dominant when it came to sexual matters and that she hoped that I would understand and go along with this.

So, one bright summer Saturday morning I found myself driving over to her house in a state of nervous excitement. She had told me to dress in a blouse and skirt and high heels, with nothing else on my feet or legs. She had also specified that I had to wear no knickers either, but I did not take those off until I had parked just around the corner from her house. She lived in a small but modern detached house on the edge of a housing estate, backing onto a farmer’s fields, and I could feel the heat of the morning as I walked up to her front door, very aware of how bare my bottom felt under my skirt.

I rang the doorbell and she answered.

“Hello Karen”, she said, smiling. “Please come in. I have just put the kettle on.”

She ushered me through into a large lounge, with an expensive-looking cream carpet on the floor and a three-piece leather suite of a similar colour. The whole room looked tastefully decorated and I complimented her upon it. She smiled.

“You look lovely today, Karrie – just like in your photograph.” She moved closer to me.

“Did you dress like I asked you to?”

I nodded my head, blushing slightly, as I knew that she was referring to the fact that I had no knickers on. I was standing in the middle of the room, and I was expecting that she was going to invite me to sit down or take me through to the kitchen for a cup of coffee or tea. Instead she sat down in one of the leather chairs.

“Would you show me please, Karrie? Just to prove that you have been obedient.”

The way that she said ‘obedient’ made a shiver run up my spine, and I guessed that where she worked people were usually obedient or got into trouble. I tugged at the sides or my skirt and wiggled my hips until it slid up, showing my upper thighs.

“A little higher, please, dear. I really cannot see anything you know”, she said, looking intently at the tops of my legs. I felt my cheeks burn red with embarrassment as I took the hem of my skirt and pulled it upwards revealing my pussy to her searching gaze.

“Oh, yes. That’s very good, Karrie. You are a good girl doing as I asked you to!” She smiled at me. I started to pull my hem down.

“Don’t do that, honey. Sit down in that chair over there.” She pointed to the other leather armchair, and I settled down in it.

“Lean back now, she said. “Keep your skirt up and spread those lovely legs for me.”

I did so, hanging my head in shame as I knew that she could see that my pussy lips were swollen and had traces of moisture on them.

“You should not be embarrassed, Karrie”, she said sternly to me. “You have a lovely body! You aren’t ashamed of it, are you?” she asked me. I shook my head indicating a negative. She moved closer, kneeling on the soft carpet in front of the armchair.

“Good girl! Now just play with your pussy a little for me, please.” My fingers trembled as the tips started to stroke my labia and clitoris. I could feel their wetness and the odour was beginning to fill the room, despite the scent of the flowers on the nearby tabletop.

“Very nice!” she whispered, watching my fingers intently. “Rub it a little faster now, dear”. I could see that her bottom was squirming as she spoke and she moved closer, putting one hand on the chair to steady herself. I could smell her perfume and feel her breath on my thighs.

“You have such a beautiful pussy, Karrie”, she exclaimed. “What a pity it is spoilt by all that hair on it. I think that we will have to get rid of it. You won’t mind will you?” she asked me, in a voice that firmly indicated that there was only one correct answer.

“No, Miss”, I whispered, suddenly realising that I had called her ‘Miss’ whereas before I had always called her by her first name. She smiled as she also noticed what had happened.

“Good girl! Now slip that middle finger in. Lean back a little more and close your eyes for me – there’s a sweetie!” I groaned and tilted my head back and the middle finger of my left hand slid in so easily, making a soft squishing noise as it did so. My thumb tip rested on my swollen clitoris and started to flick it as my finger moved back and forwards. I could feel an orgasm approaching and my toes clenched. I hissed and my head moved from side to side as I closed my eyes tighter. I could feel her breath closer on the inside of my thighs as she moved closer still, pressing down on the armchair. My finger moved faster still. Then I felt her hand grip my wrist and move my finger away from inside my pussy. I opened my eyes and tipped my head forwards, confused at her actions.

“There is a no hurry, sweetie. I want you to take your time and enjoy it all”, she explained, smiling at me as she placed my hand on my thigh. “But I was so close to…” I started to say. “Hush, hush, dear – all in good time”, she said firmly, getting to her feet. “Let’s make it even better!” She stood there in her blue and white patterned summer dress, white stockings and white high heels, as if waiting for me to argue with her. I sat forwards, not knowing what to expect next.

“Unlike you I am wearing knickers, Karrie”, she said. “Come and take them off me, please!” I knelt before her on the carpet and lifted up her dress, revealing the tops of her stockings, a light blue suspender belt and navy blue knickers. The strong scent of her arousal hit me and I smiled, knowing that I had excited her with my masturbatory antics a few minutes previously. She held the hem of her dress as I tugged on her knickers, peeling them over her generously-sized bottom to reveal a dense black-haired bush between her fleshy thighs. I pulled them to the floor and she stepped out of them, dropping the hem of the dress and moving to the armchair that she had sat in previously. I stayed kneeling on the carpet in the middle of the room. She sat in the chair and slid forwards in it, so that her bottom was close to the edge.

“Come closer, Karrie. Don’t be shy! Show me how skilful you can be”, she instructed, tugging her dress up and spreading her thighs to reveal her pinkness, thickly matted with wet black hairs. I shuffled over and knelt between her legs and stared at the beauty in front of me. I could hardly believe how delicious it looked and smelled and I licked my lips as I stared at it.

Caroline moved her fingers down to open herself up. “Do you like what you see, Karrie?” she asked. “Oh, yes – you are gorgeous!” I stammered. “Good – well show me how much you like her by kissing and licking her then. Don’t be shy!” I moved my mouth closer, my tongue emerging, and licked her labia lips softly. She grunted and I felt her right hand on the top of my head urging me on. Her taste was warm and pungent, filling my nostrils as her pubes tickled my tongue and lips. Her clitoris was a deep pink, almost angry red colour, and stuck out as if daring me to touch it. I pressed my lips to it and kissed it. Caroline groaned and I felt her fingernails in my scalp.

“Mmmmmmmmmm”, she groaned, grinding her hips upwards, pressing my face down onto her. I gasped and took a deep breath, before plunging my nose back between those slimy lips, forcing my tongue deep inside of her. She tugged on my hair pulling me away from her.

“Lick me hard and fast, Karrie – and don’t you dare stop until I tell you to!” With that she forced my face back downwards, releasing my hair and leaning back.

About ten minutes later I was sitting back on the carpet, my face covered in her juices. She had come, noisily and energetically, three times on my mouth and tongue, which were sore and felt a little swollen from all of the rubbing of her pubic hairs against them. I was gasping for breath and my heart was pounding from the exertions. Caroline lay there smiling at me, her dress round her waist and her hair dishevelled.

“Yes, you really are very talented, Karrie. I can see that we are going to get along just fine……”

*****

I hope that you enjoyed this story, as there are several more episodes to come. I would love to receive any feedback comments, especially from women with similar “tastes” to me, and any older ladies out there who can identify with “Caroline”. And if “Caroline” herself is reading this (you know who you are!) I just want to say this: I know that you cannot be with me any more, but I hope that you are doing well and I would love to hear from you again.

Karen St

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