All the Young Girls Love Laura Pt. 03

I could see by her eyes that it was true. There was something in her mind...but what was it?

"Ah, well, if you're too shy to reveal what's in your heart, I suppose we'll just have to call it a day," I said, as though my mind was now made up. "Too bad, I taste exceptionally sweet today," bringing my finger to my own mouth.

"No, wait...I've been very bad, I've done something that I shouldn't have...and I should be punished...severely."

This was an old game with us, too. Rhonda sometimes liked to be spanked, and except for the pain it caused me to use my hand against her pretty ass, I rather liked it too. But there was an undercurrent that I sensed, which I thought might come out in our further play.

"Very well, slut, I will find out what it is in the course of your punishment, but for confessing that you are naughty, I will give you the immense treat of tasting my desire." I touched my fingertip to her philtrum, the vertical groove above her lip, just below the tip of her nose, which would leave her with the scent of inflamed vagina while we played. Then I slipped my finger between her lips, and she eagerly sucked on it, her pink tongue scraping off my rich, tasty female cream and swallowing the feminine delight.

I absently fucked my finger into and out of her mouth, much like the way I often had her suck one of my dildos, and she moaned with pleasure, imagining all of her holes being fucked at the same time by beautiful women, immense hard plastic cocks slipping into her wet pussy, tight asshole and sucking mouth simultaneously.

Her hands were on her breasts, squeezing them and pinching her nipples. It was a matter of only a few seconds before her first orgasm rose inside her, her pelvis shaking and her teeth nearly biting my finger.

"Fuck fuck fuck, oh god yess," she mumbled around my digit, her tongue going into overtime as it swabbed my finger, I suppose imagining that my finger as dildo as cock, was shooting some immense load of girl jizz in her mouth.

My patrons have very active imaginations!

Finally, her breathing heavy and ragged, Rhonda gasped and moved her lips from around my fucking finger.

"God, that was good," she groaned. Then, gathering herself, she looked at my panties, at the same level as her face, as she was seated on the bed while I stood.

"You're so wet," she said, smiling. "May I?" she asked.

"Mmm, you may just kiss my cunt through my panties, bitch," I growled. "And then your punishment."

She leaned forward, bringing her nose to the darker, wet spot at the center bottom of my crotch. Of course, I was enjoying our game immensely. I almost always enjoy fucking my clients, joining in their games and entering their worlds.

Why wouldn't I? Their activities are meant to pleasurably satisfy a woman. I'm a woman and of course, a lesbian, so anything that they want to do would inevitably please me too. It might be different for a male prostitute - some men have such incredibly warped ideas, like the man in Germany who wanted to eat another man, literally, and found a willing victim!

Men are so strange.

Women on the other hand, are generally into mental or psychic torture, or light physical torture, not into completely off the wall, dangerous things.

But to return to Rhonda: She inhaled deeply, my hot, horny fragrance filling her senses, and her left hand immediately went between her thighs to play with her clit and labia. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth to lick the cream oozing through the fabric of my panties.

Her right hand was caressing my thighs, the outside of my left leg, then the inside of my right thigh as she became bolder, fingers moving up higher towards the heat of my pussy. She found a tiny trickle of my lubrication that had slipped past the elastic down the inside of my thigh, her fingers rubbing and spreading it over my smooth skin.

"Stupid bitch!" I barked. "You're going far past the permission I gave you, and you're making a mess. Now you must be punished."

"Please, no," she responded, a look of fear in her eyes. "I'll be good, I promise!"

"You can't be trusted, you fucking worthless cunt. Lay across my lap and you will get the first of it."

She looked confused, then almost let slip with a small grin. She'd be receiving several punishments!

I sat on the edge of the bed next to her, and then she stood up and then lay back down, this time on her stomach and hips at my lap, her sweet round butt prominent before me. Her flesh was hot under her panties, my right hand slipping through a leghole of her panties to caress and cup one lovely ass cheek, then slipping across the divide between her sweet butt globes to caress her other hot pillow.

She wiggled her butt slightly, just enough to help satisfy some of the tingling of need that her clit was experiencing, but not enough to raise my ire.

"Settle down," I growled, giving her ass a warning tap, a light little pat.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You will be, you very bad little girl," I promised her.

She shivered, with pleasure or trepidation I couldn't say...but I didn't see her getting up and walking out. I proceeded to slowly pull down her panties off her round butt cheeks, letting the cool air caressing her ass serve as notice of what was to come. I was in no hurry, enjoying the view just as she was enjoying the terror of impending punishment.

"Such a sweet round ass you have, darling," I murmured. "It's unfortunate that such a lovely part of your body must be punished for what your poor little dumb brain and your hungry little cunt have planned together, defying me, but such is the way of the world."

I made a show of finally removing the panties completely from the slight protection they had given her tasty little butt, and I took an immense amount of time arranging the fabric at mid thigh, just a few inches down her legs. I noted a very wet spot inside her panties. I believe that she had actually squirted a little from her first orgasm - she was in rare form today.

I continued to touch small pieces of the panties, tuck them or move them slightly, every touch of my hand on the backs of her thighs or on her bottom itself making her twitch in anticipation of the punishment that she knew was coming.

And as we all know, anticipation of punishment can be every bit as delicious as the punishment itself, for both Mistress and her sub. That's "sub," for submissive. Rhonda and I were well practiced at floating in and out of our roles. Right then, she was most definitely my sub, and I her Dom, Dominant or Mistress if you prefer.

SMACK! followed by SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! followed by silence, then quiet sobbing and my humming Pachelbel's Canon in D Major which had been playing in the background.

My hand hurt - have I mentioned that I hate spanking because of that? Rhonda continued sobbing...I could even see that there were single wet tracks under her eyes. But her pelvis began rotating in my lap.

"Ohh," she moaned.

"Does that hurt?" I asked her conversationally.

"Yes."

SMACK! SMACK!

"Yes...Mistress."

"Good," I responded. "You are unusually rebellious today, aren't you?"

Silence.

SMACK!

"Yes...yes, Ma'am...Mistress."

"Why?"

"Because...I can't tell you...please, no more."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"You are so willful for such a young girl," I said in as severe a tone as I could manage.

She was openly sobbing then, quite large tears running down her red cheeks and dripping on the bed. But her bottom was indescribably red, deep, deep red bordering on purple, and the shape of my hand from the last blow still stood out in pale fingers blending into the red.

Meanwhile, her butt was rotating like a tornado, and bouncing up and down.

Between sobs she moaned...in pleasure, the extreme pain in such an embarrassing location; being treated as though she were a rebellious child; exposing her quite lickable ass to another woman's gaze - these were the instances of humiliation that she lived for during many of our sessions.

"Ohh, oh fuck it's coming, I'm cumming...oh god it's so so so gooood," she crooned, her orgasm washing over and through her, and like a low pressure system stuck over Phoenix, it stayed, her entire body thrilling to her utter shame, degradation...and ecstasy, for long minutes.

It's really incredible. Some women have a single orgasm, and are happy. Some women have multiple orgasms and are also happy. Very, very few women have extended orgasms where the peak pleasure and sensations of that wonderful experience linger for long, long minutes, sometimes as long as five minutes, with "aftershocks," smaller orgasms occurring during the hour or so afterward, simply from being touched on any part of their bodies.

I'm not one of those, and I'm certainly glad I'm not. It would be impossible to service other women if the experience became all about me. But I routinely orgasm many times during the day, and I'm quite happy with that.

But the funny thing about these women with extended orgasms - they're never satisfied with their special quality, and as a result seem to have much in common with non-orgasmic women, always searching for the One. That is, the One Perfect Orgasm. From my point of view, that's just fine, it's guaranteed repeat business.

I relaxed, as my job was pretty much done with Rhonda. For the next half hour or so, I could just relax with her in my lap, trembling and shivering occasionally, her left hand squeezing my calf every time she came again.

Finally, Rhonda rolled off my lap and sat up. Or tried to.

"OWWW!" I just rolled my eyes when her back was turned to me. What did she expect?

When she turned to face me, looking for sympathy, of course I gave it to her.

"Poor baby, can I soothe you?" I asked in my warmest tone, taking her face between my hands and kissing her cheeks, salty and wet from her tears.

"Oh Laura, it hurt so much, I'll never do anything to disobey you again," she said. "I promise."

"So, you've hinted that something's going on that might make me mad - or was that just incentivizing me to spank you extra hard?" I asked her softly, a small smile on my face.

Rhonda half laughed, half groaned - she was still emotionally in turmoil, and I hoped that she had left the rest of her afternoon clear, because she wouldn't be much of a leader, although she obviously was a very satisfied woman.

"Oh Laura, I hope you won't be mad," she said. A little timidly, but I could hear her usual steely timbre creeping back in. "You know how the H-1B visa program works?"

"Vaguely," I said. "You can bring in a worker with special skills that no American worker has, something like that?"

"Close enough," she said, sitting down next to me. "So, I was in India, looking for workers, and I found the most amazing young woman who does programming-"

"Look, Rhonda, if you want me to head your HR Department, I'm not interested," I said, grinning.

"No, no, silly, your skills can't be duplicated by anybody, and I'd hate to waste them as a bureaucratic drone. No, I brought this girl over here because she's, well, very special."

"Rhonda, are you in love?" I asked, my eyebrows raising.

"What? Oh god, no. But I am in lust, I lust after this girl's body and soul, I want to eat every piece of her up and chew it for hours. I want to fuck her, and have her fuck me. I want to lick her asshole and have her lick mine. I want to pee-"

"Okay, okay, basically you're infatuated with her and you want to do every perverted thing you can think of?" I asked.

"That about sums it up. Would you help me train her?"

"Does she have any idea what you have in mind?" I asked.

"Yes. She's a virgin, believe it or not, but she's very excited to find that I'm interested in giving her a job and bringing her great physical pleasure."

"This has disaster written all over it," I said. "But yes, I'll be happy to help you with her, um, training."

Rhonda walked...well, crept or limped would probably be more accurate, to her purse and took out her phone, then showed me picture of the girl. I had to admit that she was absolutely stunning, and dressed in Indian garb made her beauty even more impressive.

"She's so lovely," I said. "Are you sure that you've thought this through completely?"

You know how you can describe some men as "thinking with their dicks?" well, sometimes Rhonda is thinking with her clitoris. But her clit certainly had great taste with this girl.

"What's her name?" I asked.

"You're not going to try to steal her, are you?" Rhonda asked uncertainly.

"No," I said. "But I'm tempted." She looked at me doubtfully.

"Prisha Bhagati," she said. "Her name means 'God's Gift,' I think. She certainly seems like she's from heaven to me."

"Rhonda, you're an atheist," I pointed out.

"I can convert," she said defensively. I rolled my eyes, this time in front of her.

"Just let me know when, where and what. I already know the 'who,' the 'why,' and especially the 'how.'" I said.

"Wonderful," Rhonda responded. "I'll set up an afternoon and evening, okay?"

"Sure, text me."

"Laura, tell me something," Rhonda said as I was headed out the door to pick up my beard.

"Who do you love?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You play with me, and of course, with other women...but who holds your heart?"

I looked at her, pursed my lips and perhaps would have responded.

If only I had an answer.

Chapter 2

"Laura, how is it going with Melissa?"

The voice at the other end of the phone was Susan Holloway, Melissa Holloway's mother. Melissa was an 18 year old bride-to-be that I had been hired to "work with." In a rather unusual arrangement, her mother had hired me to show Melissa the sort of pleasure and consideration that Melissa should be expecting from her husband, Jason.

Her explanation for the arrangement involved the fact that a woman could teach another woman - in this case, her daughter - better what an orgasm is like than a man could; that I was said to be a notable authority in the local field on how best to reach an orgasm; and that Melissa was unlikely to transfer her affections to another woman out of gratitude for the lessons, whereas she might easily fall in love with another man competing with her fiancé.

I wasn't sure that her reasoning was completely solid, but considered that as a seasoned professional, I should be able to control any stray emotions that might intrude, and the large amount of money she was offering swayed me in the end. Of course, Melissa was well aware of the relationship and why I would be working with her, and had agreed to it beforehand.

All in all, it was a business relationship which should have been a win-win for all concerned, except for one unforeseen factor.

I, the professional who didn't fall in love with her patrons, fell in love with Melissa.

Of course, I did everything possible to hide my feelings, and I think I had succeeded up to this point. I only had one more lesson with the beautiful young girl, and with any luck we would separate and never see each other again.

Susan, her mother, apparently had had a great "love of her life" that she had lost before she met and married Melissa's father, and didn't want the kind of lifelong disappointment and regret that she had evidently felt.

"Pretty well," I responded to Susan's opening question, my voice guarded. I didn't want the woman to get the sense that Melissa was anything more than just another client for me.

"She's responding well?" she asked. "I worry that she'll be too uptight to take enjoyment from physical stimulation. She's very intelligent, and sometimes rather analytical about things. She never seems to really, 'let go.'"

"I think that her responses have been entirely normal, Mrs. Holloway," I said politely. I was feeling a little irritation that Susan Holloway hadn't put her daughter on a pedestal, considering that Melissa was the most wonderful girl in the world. Of course, there was always the possibility that I was just being emotional myself.

"Well, I just wanted to be updated," she said. "Her lesson tomorrow will be her last, is that correct?"

"Yes ma'am," I responded. After a little more back and forth, I closed the call.

I had no sooner hung up on Susan, than my phone rang again. From the tone, I knew it was my Mom. Mothers!

"Hi mom," I said. "How are you?"

"I'm fine dear," she responded. "I was wondering how you are?"

"I'm fine mom, what makes you think I might not be?"

"Don't be quarrelsome, darling, I was just wondering if you'd met a nice girl yet?"

Mom knew that I was gay, so I didn't have to go through the stress of a mother who wanted to know when I was going to meet Mr. Right.

With her it was, "When are you going to meet Ms. Right?"

"Still looking, mom," I answered with a sigh.

"I'm sure you'll meet a nice girl soon, darling," she replied, ever the optimist.

What my mother didn't know about, was my profession. I was vague with her about what I do - substitute vague for "lying through my teeth." Variously I was a "consultant," "programmer," "adviser," or whatever term I happened to come up with on the spur of the moment, and the work was always "downtown," never at some specific place that she might visit.

"And how is your work going?" she asked. "You're doing some kind of computer work, aren't you?"

"Yes...it's going fine," I said. I hoped that the last "job" I had told her about had something to do with computers...

"I heard that they were sending work to other countries or bringing in people from other countries to do that...that isn't going to cause you to lose your job, is it?" Her voice sounded worried.

I thought about Rhonda Paxton bringing in a programmer from India, mainly to fuck. It didn't sound as though that was going to lose any American programmers their positions though.

"I don't think so, mom, I'm pretty good at what I do."

"Well, don't get a swelled head dear, and if anything happens, you know I'll always be happy to have you here."

Mom had to be lonely with Dad gone, and I felt really badly about being more distant than most daughters.

"I'd be happy to come over for dinner sometime, would Saturday be okay?" I said. Weekends were often slow times for me, since husbands were usually around then and there were just no opportunities for my patrons to get away for a hot girl on girl session, as they could during the week.

"That sounds lovely, Laura," she said, her voice bright after achieving her goal of getting me to come over to see her. My mother was nothing if not predictable - in all ways.

"I'll make your favorite, Turkey Tetrazzini."

I think I'd made the comment, "This tastes good," when I was ten, and ever since, Turkey Tetrazzini was my "favorite" in her mind.

"I'll see you then, mom. I love you."

"I love you too, dear."

I hung up, trying to shift my thoughts from my 38 year old bubbeh - that's Yiddish for grandmother - even though she had no grandchildren or the prospect of any. It was more of an outlook thing with her. And we're not even Jewish, it must be a Mom thing.

Then I started making my game plan for Melissa's final lesson the next day.

Chapter 3

The day had dawned sunny and clear. It seemed like it would be a good day for fresh and new things. I had worked very hard on developing a plan that would achieve Mrs. Holloway's goals for her daughter - to awaken in her the desires that she would need to be a good and happy wife to Jason, her husband, while recognizing that she was a separate person whose desires and goals should be of equal importance to his.

I heard the doorbell ring later that afternoon, Melissa was right on time for her third and final lesson.

"Hi Melissa," I said, opening the door to let her in.

"Hi," she responded, a little stiffly, I thought.

"What's the matter?" I asked. I'm paid to know women's minds, but sometimes a certain woman is beyond me, and at those times it's better to ask.