tagLesbian SexLabor Day Lesbian Rapture Ch. 03

Labor Day Lesbian Rapture Ch. 03

bysusietreasure©

(This story is not for minors or anyone offended by descriptions of sexual exploration between adventurous women. All characters are … well, you figure it out for yourself. Feedback is welcome, esp. from like-minded Dommes and Subs!)

Part 3

"Are you sore?" asked the barely recognizable voice in my ear.

I awoke startled to see Heather standing over me in a white rumpled tee shirt and jeans. Gwen was nowhere to be found and I was confused and apprehensive. I instinctively felt for my collar: it was there. And so were my heels – I had slept with them on overnight! And during the course of the night I remembered a vaguely comforting dream about the cousins who seduced me so long ago….

Contrary to my expectations Heather was friendly.

"Yeah, a little," I finally responded.

"Let's see," she said. She sat on the bed and turned me gently on my side to inspect my back.

"Well, your skin's got a rosier glow now, as well a few stripes on that lovely ass and back of yours – but they'll go away in a day or two. That's it. But you really took it well, honey, you were amazing. You've given Gwen and me a year's worth of fantasy material." She smiled and I smiled back.

"You mean you aren't angry with me?" I asked softly.

"Angry? What for? You were such a fucking turn on, how could I be angry? And then the thought of you with Gwen drove me wild – it was all I could do to keep from playing with myself all night, thinking about the two of you. Usually Gwen goes for the younger girls, you know, the barely legal ones on the dancing scene. Well, don't we all?"

"I dunno…" I was blushing. The idea of being with an 18 year old, someone young enough to be my daughter made me embarrassed. It was embarrassing enough that both Gwen and Heather were so young. I looked up at Heather's blue eyes: she was deliciously beautiful in her unkempt state, and I remembered how glorious it felt to surrender to her ferocity the night before.

"Where is she?" I asked, attempting to get off the topic.

"Where she usually is – the club. Inventory, staff, you know, it's always something. Maybe she has someone there too…. I don't know. Hey, we share the rent and we're not married and so far it's been a great arrangement for both of us."

"C'mon," she continued, "I've got lunch waiting for us in the kitchen. You're quite a sleepyhead, you know – it's almost 3."

She tossed me a robe and over lunch we talked some more about ourselves. Heather was obviously intelligent and articulate: she had been going for her Masters' in Comparative Literature, had run into some money problems, got a tip to try dancing and has been at it ever since: the money is too good to stop. Anyway she didn't fancy herself as the professorial type. Right now she was stashing her earnings away and having a great deal of fun at the same time. She had no taste at all for men: to her they were simply sources of income, usually tipsy, and she wouldn't let one of them so much as touch her. I well understood. As I listened to her, gazing at her pretty face, I noticed she hadn't the hardness or unreachability I imagined that girls who stripped for a living would.

It was comfortable and natural to be sitting across from a table with her, chatting as I might with one of my straight and normal girlfriends. For my part I talked about my so-called marriage, how I had ignored for years my husband's gayness, and also ignored my attraction to women. I told Heather that the incident with my cousins may have had something to do with this kind of denial: I was so young at the time, and they were really perverse….. I'd never told anyone about that experience before.

"And you were their sweet young thing…." Heather mused. "No offence, but I can't blame them if you were half as hot then as you are now…."

I chuckled, and blushed a little, and she went on, "You know, Gwen and I had a foursome last year with an aunt and her niece – who had just turned 19. Maybe it was really wrong, but it really really felt good all round – nobody complained, that's for sure." She looked at me keenly and lustfully.

My pussy warmed involuntarily at this forbidden idea, and I hastened to change the subject.

I asked about dominance and submission, told Heather I couldn't believe I had done what I did, and that….

She interrupted by saying that she and Gwen weren't into the full-time lesbo SM scene: if that's all you do it gets old and stale real quickly, she opined.

"Gwen and I get into it for variety, maybe a few times a year," she added. "But it takes some practice, some skill to do it right – which is why you're not crawling in pain right now. "You've gotta know how to use your tools properly." She was quiet for a while as she gazed at me. "So little time, so much to explore," she said cryptically. She continued, "You really set Gwen off -- I haven't seen her this charged up in a long while."

Then she lowered her voice and moved her face close to mine: "And I haven't been so excited either – the thought of your lovely bound body jumping at my whip is almost too much…" Her voice trailed off and we kissed over the table, lightly at first, then with increasing passion, then ravenously, and Heather rose and clasped my head in her hands and started to make me swoon with arousal.

My body was still a bit sore – actually, tender is the better word – pretty much all over, but tender in a warm exciting way. Her hands felt good as they stroked me while we kissed.

We made our way back to the playroom and snuggled in the bed. I tore off her tee-shirt and feasted myself on her breasts. They weren't big and floppy, but deliciously firm and sensitive; her pink nipples were rock-hard and I sucked and bit on them with abandon and was delighted at her passionate response. I noticed she was careful to avoid touching my pussy or nipples – which made them all the hotter. I couldn't believe I had so much sexual energy – maybe it was all those years of frustrated desire unleashed like a flood.

Suddenly she stopped and stood up and I could see by the light in her eyes that the gears had shifted: she was my Mistress once again. The pit of my stomach dropped a bit and my pussy grew wetter. Was I so addicted so soon?

"Okay Susie -- slut," she said slowly, fixing my gaze, "it's just the two of us now." There was a touch of menace in her voice: would she now get her revenge on me? Was she feigning intimacy a few moments ago?

She looked incredibly sexy as she stood topless in her jeans, her tousled blond hair mussed. I remembered our kiss on the dance floor, and I remembered the strokes of her whip last night, and I remembered my place, I guess. I wanted the thrill of submitting to this beautiful wicked bitch again.

I bowed my head as she went for my hair and yanked me off the bed and onto my knees.

"This time I'm going to give you what you really want," she cooed, "and you will not be disobedient, you hear?" I nodded.

"Do you hear?" she asked again, slapping me.

"Yes, Mistress," I replied. She slapped me again for good measure.

"Hands behind your back and face on the floor away from me," she ordered, "and don't move." Several minutes passed during which I heard an occasional metal clinking. Heather approached me from behind and began to braid my long lustrous hair. I was motionless and silent. This took several minutes. She finally pulled me to my feet, harshly.

"Arms out, slut," she commanded. I did as told and she dexterously fastened leather restraints on each wrist. She then knelt and affixed two similar restraints around each ankle. The restraints each had 4 thick metal O-rings.

She led me towards the windows and it was then that I noticed that the hanging plants had disappeared. Now I understood why they looked out of place. From the eye-bolts on which the plants had hung now dangled two leather leashes.

Heather positioned me under the leashes. I was now facing the mirror between the windows.

"Arms up," she ordered.

She threaded each of the leashes through the O-rings of my wrist restraints and pulled as tightly as possible before winding and knotting them. My arms were stretched nearly to their limit, over my head and my hands were about three or four feet apart from each other in the air. Heather then brought over a long bar with sturdy metal snaps at either end, to which she attached my ankle restraints: a ‘spreader' bar, as she told me.

My legs were now about four feet apart. It was impossible for me to move my thighs inward and just to be able to maintain my balance with my heels I had to point my toes outwards which thrust my cunt further forward. My pussy was again completely open and vulnerably exposed. I was completely at her whim, and this was the feeling I so loved, however dangerous it might be.

"Do you like what you see, slut?" she asked, gently holding my waist as I peered across into the mirror.

"Yes, Mistress, if it pleases you."

"It does, bitch, it pleases me a lot, and it's going to please me even more very soon. Wait for me," she added, "I'll be back"

Heather left the room and I was left to contemplate myself in the mirror, newly constrained. I liked what I saw. I imagined what it would be like to go down on someone like myself, wished I were a double and could lick my own pussy! I liked the way my body looked in its bondage, in its stretched submission. I loved the roseate glow of my skin and the occasional thin red stripe. I loved my toned thighs and legs and my firm breasts and tender open pussy just waiting to be set aflame. I even loved the kinkiness added by the sexy heels I had inadvertently worn in bed. But I loved most of all that I was Heather's right now, that I had become the sweet slave-toy of a woman more than 10 years younger than I. And that I had Gwen too….

Heather must have been gone for about 10 minutes – it seemed like ages and when I heard her shut the door my heart beat wildly. She came up to me and I could see her in the mirror as she gently encircled my waist with her arms and kissed my flanks. Ooooh, it was thrilling to feel her lips and licks along my sides and underarms and then across the back of my shoulders while her hands roamed.

"You're so preciously edible, my slut," she whispered. Heather wore only her pair of jeans and heels.

"But you know, dear, I think you'd look even more ravishing with some jewelry – the right kind, of course." She walked to the closet and returned with a sort of T-shaped silver chain, relatively thick, on whose ends pincer-like clamps were attached.

My nipples were as sensitive as my clit and I could swear there was a direct connection: when Heather or Gwen had touched them I immediately felt a current of sexual excitement in my clit and pussy and I was sure I could orgasm merely from nipple play – the right kind, the right woman, of course, maybe even the right instrument….

I winced as Heather affixed the clamps to my nipples and pulled on them, and winced again as she attached the lower clamps to my outer pussy lips. The clamps were very snug and painfully exciting. But then Heather surprised me by pulling the chain up and asking me to open my mouth. I obeyed as she inserted the silver links between my lips.

"Open up and keep a grip on it, slut!" She really never shouted, but she could say things with a certain emphasis that accentuated her power and that always seemed to send a tingle along the back of my neck.

I could feel the tension on both my nipples and labia with the slightest motion of my head, which I had to keep lowered to prevent the clamps from inflicting further pain.

Then Heather abruptly jerked my head back by the hair and my pussy lips and nipples were seared with terrible pain. I was shocked and all I could do was swallow.

"Don't dare let that out of your mouth, you fucking cunt!" Again, her voice was soft but commanding, and I had a hard time breathing as the pain subsided, for fear of letting go.

Her hand remained on my braid as she stood behind me.

"There, bitch, get a good look at yourself: do you like your new jewelry?" she sarcastically asked.

"Yes," I replied quietly.

And my head was jerked back again and my nipples and labia hurt so much I could have cried – but they also galvanized my desire. I was so confused but also so grateful.

Heather moved away to the closet again and returned. With her left hand she traced her fingers along my side and with her right she slid the smooth back of a wooden hair-brush along my stomach.

"Just so you know, my little susie-slut, tonight you will be begging to cum, and there will be no free ride, whore."

She smacked the inside of my right thigh, hard. I breathed out heavily from the pain and almost lost the chain. I was also beginning to drool and my spittle started to stream onto my chest.

Heather nestled her chin between my face and elevated left shoulder and then smacked me even harder along the outside of my right thigh. Her arm around my waist kept me from moving forward or backward.

She began to smack along the top of my mound and then along my stomach, very hard, and she moved the brush up between my chest and wet it with my drool. Heather then shifted to my side and took aim for my inner thighs and lashed at both of them from my knee to my groin. The pain was searing and I could see my flesh turn red instanteously.

"Does my slut like this?" she purred.

I nodded my head and she surprised me by pulling on my hair which pulled the clamps fiercely, and she surprised me further by slapping my right breast with the flat of the brush. I groaned in a muffled way as the piercing blow took its toll: it stung so terribly much and my drooling increased and again she wet the brush and leveled a blow across my other nipple, driving the clamp into my breast while she pulled my hair yet again.

My mind was swimming: this perverted bitch was a master at doling out punishment. She stepped away and swung and spanked my ass with hard powerful strokes and my buttocks were on fire. And then she embraced me from behind, nibbled at my ear, wiped the involuntary tears from my eyes and asked me if I wanted more.

I mumbled "yes" through the chain-gag, taking care not to lose my hold on it, and as Heather stepped aside she gripped my hair and tilted my head up just enough to start the piercing clamp-pain, and then .... And then I would have collapsed were it not for the leashes that suspended my wrists. She had delivered a direct blow to my gaping and clamped pussy and I screamed uncontrollably as the brush pushed the pincers into my cunt. I dropped the chain from my mouth and just concentrated on breathing, in and out, in and out, in and out.

Heather stroked my hair gently and I gathered myself. I loved her touch. I wanted to kiss her hand.

"Open up, sweetie." Again she placed the chain in my mouth. I was trembling from the shock to my cunt. Heather stood in front of me and kissed me on the mouth, chain and all, and moved behind again.

"Take a good look at yourself… you make a very beautiful slave-girl, a very lovely slut. Such a sweet little whore. Let me take a picture! Maybe your friends will want to see what you really are like, what you really crave, what their Susie really wants."

She snapped a half-dozen shots as I stood swaying slightly in humiliation. When she was through with this exercise, as I gazed in the mirror at this grotesque transformation of my personality, at this reddened, drooling, helplessly captive plaything, she came to my side and grasped my braided hair.

Very slowly she pulled, and to make sure I didn't let go of the chain she placed her left hand over my mouth, and very slowly the clamps pinched and twisted my cunt-lips and nipples higher and higher -- and then very quickly she yanked on my hair with such sudden and tremendous force that my head jerked far back and the clamps tore away from my flesh, biting into it as they did so, and hurting so so much. The loose jewelry dangled from my mouth as I bit on it to quiet the hurt, and as the circulation began to return to my exquisitely tender tissues the pain became even more intense, and I would have buckled over were it not for my bonds.

Yet through it all I was conscious of Heather's soft breasts as she pressed herself behind me and gently cupped my own poor tortured breasts with her elegant hands. And through it all I could smell her arousal,the sign that I was pleasing and exciting her, driving her wild even – which gave me the strength to endure.

"What does my slut say now," she asked as she slid the chain out of my mouth.

"Thank you, Mistress, thank you!" I answered as she bit into my neck.

(to be continued)

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