Step By Step Ch. 07byMissLisaJones©
For the second morning in a row Helen rolled over to find herself in Sam's bed, woken by the light filtering through the thin curtains. For a while she just lay there, watching her lover sleep, feeling a deep inner contentment that had been missing for so long from her life. She thought over the events of last night; she was still somewhat surprised by how she had found that this group of women, who's morality and sexuality she would have found so shocking just a few days ago, had turned out to be quite normal. Indeed, normal was a word that was being rapidly redefined for her. It wasn't that long ago that simply being touched by another woman in a sexual way would have churned her stomach; now, now she just wanted to feel Sam's hands, Sam's lips all over her. She thought about waking Sam but she slept so soundly that it seemed cruel to do other than to let her sleep on.
Softly, so as not to wake her partner, she slipped out of bed, grabbed Sam's dressing gown from the hook behind the door, and went downstairs to the kitchen. She made herself some tea and toast and was sitting at the kitchen table flicking through a magazine when the door opened and Sam's tousled head appeared.
"And what do you think you're doing?" she asked.
"Having breakfast," Helen replied innocently.
"And you don't see anything wrong with this?" Sam enquired, coming over to stand next to Helen with her hands on her hips. "You don't see any problem with, for example, which one of us is wearing my dressing gown or which one of us is happily drinking tea whilst the other is waiting?"
The penny dropped and with a quick 'Sorry, Mistress' Helen got up from her chair, shrugged off the dressing gown, handed it to Sam and fell to her knees.
That's better," Sam said, putting on the dressing gown. "Ooh, lovely and warm. Maybe I should get you to warm up my dressing gown every morning. Now, if I don't get some tea soon there's going to be trouble, or should that be, more trouble."
Helen stood up and went over to the counter to put the kettle on and, whilst she was at it, slip another couple of slices of bread under the grill. She brewed a fresh cup of tea and, having placed that in front of Sam, returned to the grill just in time to stop the toast from burning. She quickly buttered it and spread it with marmalade before putting it on a plate and handing it to Sam.
"Crusts! You left the crusts on the toast! Can you get nothing right this morning?" Sam said in mock anger.
"I'm sorry, Mistress," Helen replied, well aware that crusts had never been an issue before. "I'll do better next time."
"If you carry on like this there may not be a next time," Helen replied sternly. "Now, stand in the corner whilst I finish off."
There was something deliciously 'naughty schoolgirl' about being sent to stand naked in the corner and something inside Helen rather enjoyed being there. To this was added the anticipation of what Sam had in mind for her. She had obviously been naughty and would no doubt be punished. Was she due another spanking? Remembering the combination of a sore backside and an earth shattering orgasm from last time this was a very mixed prospect.
"Right then, I think you need some time to think things over, time to think about who gets breakfast first in this house," Sam said at last as she got up from the table. "Come with me."
Sam led Helen upstairs and took her to the bathroom where she was ordered to take a pee. Again it ran counter to everything that Helen felt was 'proper' to be doing so in front of someone else and Sam's controlling stare made it hard to start but this all added to the growing sense of humiliation, the sense that she was unworthy of 'normal' decencies. Then Sam took her to the bedroom and told her to lie down full length. Helen didn't need to be told about the wrist cuffs; she held her arms above her head ready and, as anticipated, they were soon attached to the headboard.
Sam then went to her chest of drawers and fetched out a couple or silken scarves. Whilst, knowing Sam's restricted budget, these were almost certainly made of something other than real silk they were still soft and gentle when tied around her ankles and, as the free ends were pulled behind the tailboard and tied together, they were certainly strong enough to ensure that Helen's legs were forced apart, right to the limit of what she could endure. What Helen wasn't expecting was what came next. Sam went back to her chest of drawers and, this time, fetched out a black velvet bag. From this she took out a blindfold of the sort supplied by airlines which, once fitted, left Helen in complete darkness. Then she was told to 'open wide' and she felt her mouth being filled by the rubbery taste of a gag, its ball forcing her jaws apart and reducing any attempts at speech to an incoherent gurgle. Next there was a tinkling sound and something was placed in Helen's hands. Sam explained that it was a bell which, when rung, would act like a safe word and Sam would return and unlock her instantly. The final touch was foam earplugs. Whilst these were not one hundred per cent effective they did muffle things considerably and added to the sense of disconnection.
Helen assumed that Sam had finished with the bondage and that the busy fingers she could feel playing with her nipples were all part of the tease but, once her nipples had become aroused, the fingers stopped and suddenly Helen felt her teats being pinched, gripped by something hard, something definitely not a finger, something that squeezed firmly enough to hurt without quite being unbearable. Then she felt Sam's fingers working on her vagina, pushing her lips apart, massaging the inner folds. She had just put two and two together when she felt another clip being fastened to her clitoris, another sudden spear of pain to join the two that came from her nipples. Then Sam kissed her gently on the forehead and left; Helen felt rather than heard the door close, she was all alone.
And then nothing, no light, no sound, Helen's whole world centred on the three points of fire that were her nipples and clitoris. With nothing to distract her time lost all meaning and she started to drift. In her mind her focus on the throbbing pain from her nipples and her clit started to grow; she became purely a sexual being, a being with wild desires and fantasies. She wanted to hide away, to cover her nakedness but she was being held, forced open, exposed, uncovered, showing her all to any who would care to look. Along with this came dreams, visions of torture, of being forced against her will to do the most degrading acts, acts which both sickened her and inflamed her desires.
Without warning she felt hands touching her, stroking her. The hands reached for her breasts and the rush of blood to her nipples as the clips were removed was far worse than the clips themselves had ever been. She knew that even more was to come when the other clip was removed from her clitoris but that didn't reduce the shock, didn't reduce the agony. She arched her back and cried out, her scream of pain muffled by the gag. She'd do anything, anything at all to ease the pain that screamed from her centre. She felt Sam's body holding her down, Sam's lips kissing her inflamed nipples, Sam's fingers probing between her legs. Sam wasn't being gentle but then Helen didn't want her to be. She was still lost in the fantasy, she was the slut, the whore, the harlot who needed to be violated, needed to be taken, needed to be raped. Almost immediately she felt her climax starting, she felt herself losing control. As hard as Sam's hand pumped inside her she pumped back, pushing her hips as much as she could, riding the storm, feeling the waves crash inside her until she could take no more and, completely exhausted, she collapsed back onto the bed and lay still, panting heavily around the constriction of the gag.
Immediately Sam went from brutal ravisher to gentle lover, holding her softly whilst removing the gag, the blindfold, the earplugs and ties and the cuffs. Once freed she took Helen and wrapped her in her arms, comforting her, kissing away the tears that fell like rain.
"Shhh... Shhh..." she comforted. "Seriously, Helen, are you OK?"
"That was... that was... so, so intense," Helen gasped. "I've never felt anything like that."
"Intense good or intense bad?" Helen queried.
"Intense fantastic," Helen assured her friend. "But please, Sam, enough for now. I don't think my nipples can take any more and, as for my front bottom..."
"Front bottom!" Sam laughed. "You are a one, but, yes, I'll leave your 'front bottom' alone, for a while at least."
"Thank you, Sam, thank you," Helen responded. "I seem to be saying that a lot recently, don't I?"
"You're very welcome." Sam replied. "Now, you've lain here long enough; we're wasting a beautiful day. Let's go out and feed the ducks in the park. You can wear your new dress."
"I suppose nipping next door for a pair of panties is out of the question?" Helen asked ruefully.
"You suppose correctly. Now come along, we'll share a shower."
Sam's idea of a trip to the park included a picnic lunch so, what with one thing and another, it was well gone eleven before they had got everything together. Helen wore the sun dress she had bought the day before, Sam put on shorts and a tee shirt and the two of them set off for the park. They weren't the only ones enjoying the sun and it was hard to find a quiet corner but they managed in the end, finding a spot in a dip in the ground which gave some privacy and, spreading out a blanket on the grass, they settled down to their lunch.
Maybe it was the bottle of wine they shared, maybe it was the warmth of the sunshine, but, after they had finished eating the conversation petered out and they both just lay there, lying on their sides, watching each other.
"God, you look gorgeous," Sam said eventually. Helen just smiled self-consciously.
"I mean it," Sam continued, "I could eat you up, right now. I'd start with your neck, just a little nibble, just there." Sam reached out and touched Helen just above her collarbone. "Shall I show you?"
"Sam, no, someone might see!" Helen replied.
"And if they do?" Sam returned, "where's the problem."
"I'm just not comfortable."
"Tough! I'm in charge here and don't you forget it." Sam leant forward and kissed Helen's neck just where she had indicated. Helen was torn; she had never been comfortable about kissing in public and, here, in the park, with another woman was just about the worst she could imagine but, and it was a big but, every touch from Sam nowadays seemed to have a sexual side and this kiss seemed to have found a nerve that was connected straight to her groin; somehow, she hadn't the heart to push her away.
"There, that wasn't so bad," Sam said when she came up for air. "Now, where shall I kiss next?"
"How about not kissing me anywhere, it's making me really nervous?" Helen replied anxiously.
"No, I don't think that's an option. I think we'll do the shoulders this time." Again the light flutter of Sam's lips against Helen's flesh sent little electric sparks thrilling through her body and, not being made of stone, she couldn't help but respond.
Sam was no fool, she kept the kisses chaste and discrete allowing Helen to respond in her own time and respond she did. Their growing passion drove away Helen's shyness and it wasn't long before they were kissing properly, lip-to-lip, tongue-to-tongue, and, lost in the clinch, Helen completely forgot that she was in a public place. When Sam pushed the shoulder strap of her dress to one side she did nothing to stop it, indeed, she even encouraged it; her nipples, still highly sensitive from their earlier abuse, craved attention. Indeed, she was so involved, so lost in the embrace, that she was totally unaware of the approaching dog until the ball fell between them followed by an overexcited and yapping Pekinese.
"Oh, I'm so sorry." The strident tones of the British upper middle class, middle-aged woman rang out. "Wuffles, come here Wuffles."
Helen and Sam sat up so as to disentangle themselves from the dog but as they did so the approaching matron saw both that they were two women and also Helen's dishevelled state. Her jaw dropped.
"Good God! What do you think you're doing? Out here in a public place! Have you no shame, no sense of decency? What if children saw you? You disgusting perverts!" she said, aghast. "I've a good mind to report you."
"Fuck off bitch!" Sam countered. "Fuck off and take your stupid dog with you."
"Don't you swear at me, young lady," the woman countered.
"Oh, just leave us alone," Sam returned.
There were a few moments of stand off before, with muttered phrases such as 'You've not heard the last of this.' and 'Revolting, right out in the open.' the woman strode off with Wuffles following, yapping around her heels. Sam could barely control her laughter but Helen was far from at ease with the situation.
"What if she does report us?" Helen asked, full of worry.
"For what? To whom?" Sam replied derisively. "This is the twenty-first century and if two girls want to make out in the park then no stupid old bat is going to stop them. Now, let's get back to what we were doing. Where were we?"
But, for all Sam's bravado Helen had been shaken to the core. Sure, Sam was right, they had broken no law, there was no one the woman could report them to but it wasn't the law that disturbed her. The incident had brought back home to her how much there were still certain sections of society who did disapprove and, worse still, how close to her some of those who disapproved were. She had been brought up to believe in 'God's Law', the strict tenets of the Old Testament and there was no doubting how the enforcers of those laws would feel. Just minutes before she had felt free, liberated, enjoying the closeness of another human being but that sense of freedom had been a fragile house of cards and now, as her self‑conscious shyness returned full blast, she felt dirty, perverted and her pantyless state was something shameful, not something joyful. She wanted, no needed, to get home, to hide herself away.
"I'm sorry, Sam, I can't," Helen said, pushing Sam off her.
"What? You're going to let an uptight old bat like that upset you? Oh, come on," Sam said, losing patience.
"It's not that," Helen replied, "it's just that... It's just that I don't think it's right, out here, out here in public."
"And what's not right about it?" Sam's hackles were rising. She'd fought enough battles over the years too let this one slip by.
"It just doesn't feel right. Please, Sam, I can't explain but, really, I can't relax, I feel like everyone's watching me."
"Can't relax? Won't relax, more likely," Sam said.
"Please, Sam, don't go on about it. It just doesn't feel right." Helen was nearly in tears.
"Oh, come along then, let's tidy up and feed the crumbs to the ducks." Sam said with a sigh, realising that the trip to the park really was over, that there would be no more kissing that afternoon.
They packed up the picnic and walked back, via the ducks, to Sam's house. All the time a heavy silence hung between them, the fun was gone leaving that difficult gap that neither knew how to fill. When they returned to the house it was no better, their easy companionship had turned into awkwardness, they each seemed to be in each other's way all the time and the smallest detail, like putting the picnic things away, became a burdensome task. With a heavy sigh Sam went to the living room, flopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. Even then the paucity of Sunday afternoon viewing added to her despondency and, as she flicked from one channel to another, her mood got worse and worse.
"Sam, I think I'd best go home." Helen had come to a decision and she approached Sam. "I think I need an evening on my own, time to think things over."
"Think what over?" Sam snapped back, her frustration from the park had woken some evil demon inside her bringing with it a vicious anger. "Go on, tell me, what is there to 'think over'?"
"I don't know how I feel about..." Helen's nerves were shaken by Sam's anger.
"Feel about what? Go on, tell me."
"It's just... It's just... Sam, please, you know I like you, you know I care, but I'm not sure I can..."
"Not sure you can what?" Sam's anger was real now. Inside, deep, deep inside, Sam knew she was being a bitch, she knew she was hurting her friend but watching Helen retreat back to her entrenched prejudices was hurting her. Hadn't she spent the whole weekend pandering to her friend, helping her, encouraging her? She'd spent her last pennies on clothes for Helen and now it seemed that it was all being thrown back in her face.
"Do you know your problem?" Sam continued, her anger now in full flow. "You're scared of what you like. I know you're a lesbian who likes to have her bottom smacked; you know you're a lesbian who likes to have her bottom smacked; the difference between us is that you're scared to admit it, scared to admit what you really are. Go on say it, say 'I'm a lesbian.'"
"Sam!" Helen was shaken to the core. "Sam, I can't, I really can't. You know how I feel about that."
"Why, why can't you say it?" Sam was nearly shouting.
"Because it's wrong!" Helen shouted back. "I'm not like you; I'm not, I'm not!"
The words hung in the air, the room suddenly silent. I was Sam who spoke first.
"If that's how you feel you really had best go. Go on, get out, get out and don't come back Get out and take your sick little prejudices with you. Get out, get out!"
Helen bustled from the room and, with tears streaming down her face, ran to the door, grabbing her handbag on the way. Still shaking she fumbled for her keys, stumbled through the door to her house and flung herself on the sofa, sobbing as if her heart would break. Why, why had Sam been so harsh? Why couldn't she understand? Why had she let herself get into this situation? Suddenly she could see that it was all Sam's fault; Sam had led her astray, persuaded her into doing things she would never have countenanced on her own. She'd been weak and now she was paying the price.
On the other side of the dividing wall Sam fumed. How dare she? Didn't she know how hard the sisterhood had fought for acceptance and now she was throwing all that religious bullshit in her face again; surely they'd got past all that? Wrong! Wrong! How could she say that? How? How?
That night the two women slept in their separate beds, divided by nine inches of bricks and mortar and a whole mountain range of misunderstandings.