When Lyssa met Joanna Ch. 03

Lyssa has been standing in the same position for over three hours; there is a tube from the floor extending up into her vagina, and she is unable to lift herself off it. She can't move her legs, and they are cramping; she is at the end of her strength. She believes that she has no choice but to agree to Joanna's terms or be torn apart.

Being very careful to maintain her balance, Lyssa turns slowly to her left, presses the intercom button, and holds it until Joanna answers.

"Hi honey, I'm happy to hear from you," Joanna says. "Are you ready to comply?"

"Oh Joanna, I am so uncomfortable, but I can't do as you ask. I'm going to let myself go and kill myself."

"Lys, I'll be right down," said Joanna.

A few minutes later, Joanna enters the room and, shaking her head, walks over to Lyssa and gently kisses her forehead.

"I'll make you more comfortable, my sugary sweetness," she says.

Joanna opens the supply cabinet next to where Lyssa is standing, takes out a wide mesh belt, and puts it around Lyssa's waist and chest just under her breasts. She snaps it on either side of Lyssa to eyebolts in the panel behind her.

"Now, sweet cheeks, you can lean on the belt, that's around you without falling. That should make you more comfortable."

"But I can still impale myself if I slide down the pole," Lyssa argued.

"My sweet darling, that would be very hard to do," Joanna laughed. "That knobby thing that's up inside you is the size of a golf ball. It's made of a firm gel that will flatten out somewhat if you try to sit on it. It will keep you from moving further down on the 'peg'. Before you could damage anything inside you, you would experience so much pain that you would have to stop and lift up again. Even if you fainted and slid down, the pain would wake you immediately. Believe me, I've thought this through from every angle. You'll have to stand there until you agree to do what I ask. You have NO other choice.

"Jo, I can't do it. I can't do it. I just can't do it," Lyssa sobbed. "Please don't try to force me to...." She couldn't even complete the sentence.

"Lyssa, my sugary sweetness, I'm going to tell you my situation, my sad tale of woe, and why there is only one choice for you to make.

I'll be very frank with you and not muddy the waters because I want you to know exactly why I've taken you, why I need you, and why I can't ever let you go.

Joanna continued, "My father drank, ran around with other women, and physically abused my mother throughout their entire marriage. My mother was always black and blue and had welts all over her buttocks and thighs and sometimes her breasts, as far back as I can remember. How do I know? From the time I was six or seven until he died from drinking when I about fifteen, my father made me watch him beat her. He was still angry that she had used her pregnancy with me to force him to marry her. He was also punishing me for being that cause. When I wanted to call the police, my mother would stop me and tell me that she had agreed to the abuse in order to have him marry her. She never said so, but I know now that she wanted me to have a father. Further, she said that the physical pain was not a problem because she didn't really feel it, but the emotional abuse was tearing her apart. She would feel the initial stroke each time he hit her, but the pain dissolved immediately after. She told me that she wanted me to accept it because she would, in time, take control of the situation herself. I was afraid that she planned to kill him, but that never happened.

My father would bring other women home and force my mother to have sex with them. My mother was straight and hated that, but she, too, had no choice.

My father did only two things for me. His hobby was photography, and he taught me every aspect of still and video photography that I could possibly learn. I don't need to work, but I still pursue my career in photography. It's the only real pleasure I've had in life. The other thing that my father did for me was willing me half of the estate that his very wealthy parents had left him.

Anyway, Lys, I grew up hating men and knew I'd never let a man touch me. I have mellowed over the years and have some men friends, but I am a staunch lesbian and could never have sex with a man. My feelings against having sex with a man are probably how you feel about having sex with a woman. But you must and WILL be my sex partner. Lys, honey, you can never have sex with a man. I must see to that. You must overcome your heterosexual nature and be my - wife.

From the time I was seventeen until now, at thirty-seven, I have been looking for the perfect life partner for me. I passed up a few opportunities to have sex with other women, but I wanted someone special to love, cherish, and adore. I finally found that someone -- you.

I feel bad that you don't feel the same way about me, but I'm madly in love with you and I can never let you go. I know I must keep you my prisoner always because you're straight and wouldn't stay with me if you were free.

Since I met you, I daydream about you constantly. My panties are always wet because of you even when I'm not near you. When we're together, having dinner, seeing a movie, or just hanging out, I have to wear a panty liner, or I'd be dripping down my legs. I dream of you in color and have the only sexual releases that I don't get by masturbating.

Can't you see why I must have you and can't let you go? I am so in love with you that I ache for you, and I can't set you free. As you say you can't do what I ask and would rather die, I feel the same about losing you. I'd rather die.

Although it really and truly hurts me as much as it pains you, I must keep you on that post until you give yourself up to me. I will treat you like a princess and give you anything you want, need, or ask for except your freedom. I can't promise that I won't beat you for pleasure or punish you for misbehaving. I might even abuse you in other ways, but it will always be for sexual pleasure. I guess that it's true that what you experience in childhood causes you to follow that pattern, as you get older. Lys, honey, you may even come to enjoy a little pain.

Now that I've explained why I must have you, does it make any difference in how you feel about your situation? I fervently hope so."

"Jo, I am so sorry about your past, but, no, I just couldn't go through with what you want. I want to get married some day -- to a man -- and maybe have a family. That's been my dream since I can remember. I really am so truly sorry that I can't be your lover. Please, you have to let me go. I promise I'll never tell anyone what you -- what we've done. I can still be your friend. I do care about you. Now that I know how you've felt since you were a child, I want to help you. I'll even help you find another woman whom you can love. But I can't be whom you want me to be," Lys sobbed with compassion for Joanna.

"I've looked for twenty years for you, Lys. As I grow older, my chances of finding someone I could love as much as I love you are so slim as to be nonexistent. No, I want you, I love you, I need you, and I'll die if I can't have you. Please, won't you reconsider? I'll really be so very good to you."

"Jo, the thought of tasting another woman's secretions is so abhorrent to me that even the thought of it makes me nauseous. I know what comes through a woman's vagina: her lubrication, discharges, menstrual flow, and heaven knows what other fluids. I suppose that a lesbian can enjoy them or learn to enjoy them, but I just couldn't. I am too heterosexual."

"I can understand how you must feel, but you're mistaken. I know that my mother and my aunt, Karla, while being as straight as you are, have had no problem performing oral sex on other women. A lot of straight woman are willing to have sex with other women especially if their husbands want threesomes. Although I haven't tasted another woman, I imagine it can be pleasureful. I have tasted my own juices, and they taste good to me -- sweet sometimes, sometimes salty, sometimes spicy, but never awful.

I'm going to leave you on the post for a bit longer while I go on the internet and see if I can find anything on how pussy tastes to other women. Possibly, I might find something on Literotica. Wait, I'll be right back. Oh, silly me, you have to wait."

Joanna ran up the steps to her office, logged on to the Internet and googled something about the 'taste of female vaginal secretions'. She found pages and pages on the subject. She found one site that seemed best suited to what she needed. She scrolled down until she found the specific information she looked for: what women thought about the taste.

======================================= 3. Females describe the taste of vaginal secretions:

"A mixture of citrus and MSG."


"Soy sauce, the light Kikkoman."


"Indescribable."


"It didn't have much flavor, but the sensation inside my mouth was what I remember most. It was a very warm, comforting feeling."


"Like semen, the taste ranges. Sometimes the taste is very clean -- in fact almost tasteless -- but it can also taste kind of like a penny late in the cycle or when I've been smoking or drinking too much."


"Kind of sweet and sweaty."


"Sweet, not like anything I've ever tasted."


"Around the clitoris, it tastes like sweet tarts. In the vaginal canal, it tastes kind of like an artichoke tuna salad."


"I've only tasted my own which I've been told is quite tasty. Again, it is hard to say what it tastes like, but it could be described as spicy. The taste varies during the month also."

=======================================

Joanna printed out the selection and ran back downstairs to Lyssa. Lyssa was crying softly and practically hanging in the mesh belt around her waist.

"Jo, I can't take any more. Please, isn't there something else I can do?"

"Honey, please stand straight so you can read this."

When Lyssa was fully standing with her head up, Joanna held the printed page up so Lyssa could read it.

"See honey, it won't be so bad. I'll tell you what. If you just taste my, uh, juice, I'll let you off that post for a while. Okay?"

"No Jo, I can't. Please don't make me."

"Lys, did you fight your mother this much when she wanted you to try some new vegetable or meat? What about artichokes, spinach, beets, or some meat? Tuna, for instance? My fluids aren't any different than the foods you eat every day. Think about beef gravy. There is animal blood in it. Are you even concerned about the fact that you are eating an animal and its blood?"

Lyssa was silent for a few minutes thinking how good it would feel to get off the post that was up inside her vagina.

"Jo, I'll try, but you better hold the bucket up to my mouth for me to throw up in."

Jo went into the bathroom and removed her panties -- her very wet panties. She used a washcloth, soap and water, to wash her pubic area. She was trembling with excitement. She returned to Lyssa almost faint with emotion. She pulled her skirt up and tucked the front into her belt. Lyssa had her eyes shut tightly.

Jo rubbed her clitoris a bit and then pushed her finger into her vagina. She needed no lubrication to get her finger in. She was soaking wet.

"Open your mouth, honey, let's try this."

Lyssa did nothing for about fifteen seconds, then slowly opened her mouth, closed it again, and waited another ten seconds or so. Finally, with a sob, she opened her mouth wide but kept her eyes closed.

Joanna almost had an orgasm as she withdrew her wet finger from her vagina and moved it close to Lyssa's mouth. Her blood pounding, her pulses racing, she put her finger in Lyssa's mouth and wiped it on Lyssa's tongue. Joanna felt her blood pressure soar and her knees go weak. She almost fainted. She steadied herself and waited for Lyssa's reaction. Lyssa's mouth was still wide open. She had closed it for a few seconds after Joanna had wiped Lyssa's tongue but opened it again.

When nothing happened, Lyssa closed her mouth and then said, "Jo, stop teasing me. If you're going to make me taste you, please do it and get it over with. Please."

Joanna lost control of her bladder. She grabbed the ice bucket and held it between her legs. Lyssa heard the gush and splash and opened her eyes. She was puzzled by what she saw. She had expected to throw up in the bucket when she tasted Joanna's juices, but Joanna had peed in the bucket. Lyssa was very confused.

"Wha-what's happening, Jo? She asked.

In a shaking voice, Joanna said, "Doll, you DID taste me. I wiped my juices on your tongue."

Lyssa stared at the other woman for a while and said, "I didn't taste anything, Jo. You must be mistaken."

Joanna approached Lyssa, put her arms around the younger woman and cried softly into Lyssa's neck. She reached down, turned the knurled ring and pulled the knob from Lyssa's vagina. Lyssa moaned from the slight pain and whimpered as Joanna pulled the catheter from her urethra. She slumped into the mesh belt around her waist as her legs gave way. Joanna put her arms under Lyssa's arms and knees, unsnapped one end of the mesh belt, picked her up and carried the mewing girl to a leather chair. She put Lyssa on the chair and pushed the back to a reclining position. Lyssa fainted. Jo pulled up another chair and sat beside the childlike girl. She held Lyssa's hand, brushed her hair from her face, leaned over and planted kisses over Lyssa's face and upper body -- everywhere she could reach. The kisses were not sexual but an indication of Joanna's emotions and love for the beautiful girl. She didn't stop kissing Lyssa until the girl woke up.

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Readers, I feel almost as emotional as Joanna at this point. My pulse is racing, and it's a good thing I don't have high blood pressure.

I took the liberty of using my editor's user ID name in this chapter. Fortunately, it will be discernable only to her. If she happens to come across it, I hope she won't be offended. I found the name to be so endearing that I inserted it to show my appreciation for her advice.

I copied the selection about the taste of female secretions from the Internet and pasted it into this story. I tried to find it again in order to put the URL here, but I wasn't successful in locating it. If you happen to google and find it, I'd appreciate receiving the URL. This aspect of the story is one in which I have had quite a bit of personal experience. I would like to hear of your experiences. Email only, please.

One reader emailed and asked where I got the idea of the 'post'. Quite a few years ago, on track to my first undergraduate degree, I read many history books from the library. I ran across information on horrible examples of man's inhumanity to man and, in many cases, to women. Our ancestors were exceptionally cruel and nasty. I guess they still are. I read about terrible things by the Roman's in the coliseum; by Vlad, the Impaler; et cetera. I don't recall who performed this dastardly deed, but this was the gist: women prisoners were forced to stand over a sharpened wooden post about an inch or more in diameter. The post had been placed on a bed of stones in a narrow hole in the ground and extended into the woman's genitals. The amount of stone depended on the height of the women. Often, she was forced to stand on tiptoe. When her strength gave out, and she (probably/hopefully) fainted, she would drop and die by impalement. Death was never quick nor easy. For more info, you can Google the real Count Dracula: "Vlad, the Impaler".

There are many books about Vlad. If you have a stout heart and a strong stomach, you may find them 'interesting'.

However, in this case, I found Joanna's 'post' online at a site that sells "dungeon" equipment. The base was different from Joanna's, but the rest was similar. These are meant only to hold, not impale the occupant.

There will be a few more chapters. I hope you will enjoy them.