Bridget’s Obsession

Bridget Stone sipped her coffee and smiled inwardly to herself. She looked around the cafe and revelled in the knowledge that none of the other customers could possibly know about the secret she was currently keeping at home, in the cupboard under the stairs. She caught a glimpse of her self satisfied expression in the large mirror on the cafe wall, then she looked at her watch. It was eleven o'clock, she really should be getting home.

She'd just been out on a shopping trip, after all, she needed to ensure that her house guest was fed and watered over the next two days. The opportunity to host her boss for the weekend had presented itself during the previous evening, and she'd seized it with both hands. Now, as she made the short journey from the town centre back to her two bedroomed Victorian terraced house, she mentally rehearsed her plans for amusing herself with her guest.

Bridget was an very attractive woman with naturally wavy blonde hair. She was of medium height and build, and had a well proportioned figure. Her great aunt had died a year ago and had left her a decent amount of money. The money had come straight to her because her mother had died five years earlier, and her father had run off with another woman when Bridget was three years old.

She was determined not to be like her mother, who was always scraping to make ends meet. She'd lived on the edge of poverty for most of her childhood and she was damn sure that she was going to get what she wanted out of life.

She wasn't what you would call an affable, friendly sort of person. She found it difficult to trust people and displayed little empathy for her fellow man. This was not because she was in any way misanthropic, or had a grudge against humanity, it was merely that she felt most emotions less intensely than most other people. She was, nevertheless, a good manipulator of minds and this would serve her well.

The money left to her by her great aunt had been put to good use, she'd used it to buy her house, and had invested most of the rest in a long term savings account. Her one extravagance was clothes, and she had the body and the looks to carry off this indulgence to good effect. Still single at twenty five years of age, she'd been propositioned by more men than she cared to remember. If she didn't trust people in general, she trusted men even less and they held little fascination for her.

This inability to feel much in the way of love for her fellow man was more than compensated for by her ability to feel sexual desire and satisfaction. Her first sexual encounter had taken place on her twenty first birthday. She still lived with her mother at the time and was a typist at the local council offices.

She had persuaded an attractive work colleague to go for a birthday drink with her. Without directly lying to her, she'd misled the colleague by letting her believe that several other girls would also be there. As it turned out, Bridget and her 'friend' Susan drank alone in the pub until Susan wondered out loud what was going on.

"I thought you said that some of the other girls were coming?"

"They said they would if they could make it."

"Well they're not coming now are they? It's almost nine o'clock, I promised my Dad I'd be home for ten thirty."

"Oh come on Sue, you're already twenty one, an adult in the eyes of the law, you can do what you want."

"Not according to my Dad, he says that while I live under his roof, I have to abide by his rules. He thinks I should be married by now with kids on the way. Men! They have it all sorted out don't they, you're either some man's daughter or some other man's husband and you have to like it or lump it."

Bridget felt a warm tingle in her pussy, she'd half suspected that Susan might be amenable to a little female affection, and her last comment had given her reason to believe that she might be right.

She'd known for a long time that she was sexually attracted to women, she'd once found a bondage magazine lying in the street, the pages fluttering in the wind. She'd snatched it up quickly hoping that she hadn't been seen.

That night at home in bed, with a torch underneath the blankets, she'd discovered the delights of masturbation. She went on to obtain 'Bettie Page' porn photos by mail order from one of the small ads in the magazine. She'd given a false name and had planned to tell her mother, should the need arise, that the envelope must have been intended for a previous occupant. They'd been in the property for only six months so it was a plausible lie. In the event, Bridget had scooped up the brown envelope from the doormat before her mother had laid eyes on it.

Bridget greatly enjoyed masturbating to her sexual fantasies. She particularly liked lesbian bondage and dreamed of one day enacting the scenarios in the photos by overpowering a woman, tying her up and spanking her before making her come with a large dildo. It was this fantasy that took shape in her mind as she enticed Susan to come home with her for a 'nightcap.'

"Look, how about coming home with me now, we can have more fun than we'll get in this dump. I've got a bottle of gin and we can listen to my new Elvis Presley record, he's amazing, you'll love 'Blue Suede Shoes'. Come on, my mum's in hospital for a few days and it is my birthday."

"Okay, okay, let's go then... is your mum alright?"

"Yes, just a minor operation, she'll be home tomorrow, but we can have some fun tonight."

It didn't quite go like Bridget's fantasy. She didn't really expect it to, she knew that she wouldn't be able to tie Susan up and rape her with a dildo that she didn't even possess, so she settled for trying to seduce her. They were both still in their office attire of skirts, blouses and heels. With every sip of gin, the shapely Susan became more attractive until Bridget felt an overwhelming urge to fuck her.

She steered the conversation around to how they were both indifferent to men and before long, found herself pushing her, by now tipsy, colleague onto her back on the sofa and putting a hand up her skirt.

Susan was taken by surprise, but managed to grab her assailant's wrist just before Bridget's hand reached her pussy. She didn't know how she'd got herself into this position. One moment Bridget had been telling her how pretty she was, and the next moment she was lying on top of her with her hand travelling up under her skirt and over her stocking tops. Susan was shocked but she was also strangely aroused. In their struggle, Bridget's knuckles brushed her panty gusset, a bolt of erotic lust shot through her vagina and she submitted completely.

Susan opened her legs wider and groaned with guilty pleasure while Bridget pinned her arms above her head with her left forearm, and fucked her with the fingers of her right hand. Susan came spectacularly but as her orgasm subsided, she was gripped by a sense of shame. She avoided eye contact as she made her excuses by saying that it was late, and she had to catch her bus. She put on her coat and quickly made her way to the front door, her pussy still buzzing from the fucking it had just been given.

Bridget followed her and caught up with her just as she opened the front door, she slammed the door closed and spun Susan around.

"Oh no you don't you selfish bitch, put your fingers in me now and make me come or I'll make sure your father and everyone else knows that you like pussy."

"Please Bridget, let me go, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me just now, I'm not a lesbian, I'm not, I didn't really want you to..."

"To what? Fuck you? don't lie, you loved it, every minute of it."

Bridget took hold of the collar of her coat and pulled her back towards an armchair. Susan looked pleadingly at her assailant.

"Let me go please, I'll be late for my bus," cried Susan in a pathetic whine.

With an air of complete control over her victim, Bridget sat down in the armchair, looking for all the world like a practiced predatory lesbian. No one would have guessed that this was her first sexual encounter with a woman.

"Get on your knees bitch."

"What... what are you going to do to me?"

"I'm not going to do anything to you, you're going to do something for me. Now take your coat off and get on your knees, here, in front of me, and when you've done as you're told, I'll let you go home."

"W-what do you want me to do?" Asked a by now submissive Susan as she knelt in front of her tormentor.

"You're such a naive little pussy lover aren't you?"

"What do you mean, please stop teasing me."

"Oh don't worry bitch, it's your turn to tease me."

Bridget opened her legs as wide as she could and pulled her panty gusset to one side, then she began to masturbate while she looked hungrily at a startled Susan.

"Oh God," said Susan as Bridget reached forward, grabbed the back of her head and pulled her face in between her thighs.

"Eat me bitch, make me come."

Susan tried to resist, "no, no don't...mwphhh..."

The rest of her protestations were muffled by Bridget's swollen labia. The warm wet fold's of Bridget's vulva covered her mouth, and the pleasant aroma of her pussy filled Susan's nostrils setting off another tingle of arousal between her own legs. Bridget realised that Susan was a complete novice so she instructed her on how best to please her.

"Lick my bud, here, and put your fingers inside me... oh yes, that's it, my little slave is a quick learner, oh yessss."

Susan warmed to her task, she felt a wet trickle run down the inside of her left thigh and into her stocking top as she listened to Bridget's growing arousal. Bridget could feel her orgasm beginning to rise within her, it was a stronger, more intense feeling than when she masturbated herself. All of her dirty magazines and black and white porn photos, depicting submissive women being overpowered, bound, spanked and fucked by dominant women, flashed before her eyes.

She was on the verge of coming as she pulled Susan's head more firmly into her wet pussy. It wasn't enough, she needed more, before she could come she needed a feeling of completely dominating and humiliating her submissive victim. She pushed Susan aggressively, with such force that the hapless woman fell back spread eagled onto to floor in front of her. Before Susan could react, Bridget was on top of her.

With her knees either side of Susan's shoulders, Bridget lifted her head and rammed her face into her cunt. She face fucked her vigorously, Susan felt her assailant's warm, wet pussy sliding rapidly up and down over her nose, mouth and chin. Bridget's arousal reached new heights, almost like an out of body experience, she felt dizzy with power. The knowledge of what was actually happening, mixed with her depraved, lustful fantasies, and swirled through her mind as she came long and hard.

After several juddering pulses of ecstasy had surged through her body, Bridget clamped Susan's head between her thighs. Susan's face still pressed into her pussy as Bridget savoured the afterglow of her orgasm. Susan began to panic at her inability to breathe, she tried to force Bridget's thighs open but she couldn't make any impression on the vice like grip in which she was held. Just as she felt that she was about to pass out, Bridget released her and she gasped and gulped in air.

She lay on her side coughing and breathing heavily as Bridget calmly walked over to the mantle piece and lit a cigarette. Susan struggled to her feet and put on her overcoat. Holding her cigarette upright between her thumb and forefinger, Bridget blew a long plume of smoke into the air.

"Go now before I fuck you again."

Susan paused in the doorway, part of her wanted to flee as fast as she could to the bus stop, another part of her wanted to be fucked again by Bridget. Her fear and shame won out and she didn't stop running until she just managed to catch the last bus home.

Bridget planned to take Susan for her sex slave, but Susan deliberately avoided her at work. She caught Susan on her own in the ladies staff toilets, a week after their encounter, and put the proposition to her but Susan was horrified. She managed to push past Bridget and escape her attentions when another colleague entered the toilets.

Two weeks later, Bridget came across a cluster of girls in the main office admiring Susan's engagement ring, and soon after that, Susan had left the company. It wasn't until two years later that Bridget saw Susan again, she was heavily pregnant and had a young child in a push chair. She wondered if Susan was happy with her lot but she didn't approach her. If she had been able to have an intimate conversation with her ex colleague, she would have discovered that she could only come with her husband if she imagined Bridget's fingers inside her.

In rare moments of reflection, Bridget wondered whether her desire to enslave another woman had anything to do with her relationship with her mother. Valerie Stone had taken up with a series of unsuitable boyfriends over the years, and she always seemed to end up used and abused. The night that Bridget came home from a friend's house and found her mother, with her skirt around her waist, being bent over the kitchen table and fucked aggressively from behind by a drunken boyfriend, was seared into her memory.

She never forgot the lifeless look on her mother's face as the brute of a man satisfied himself inside her. She wondered if her fantasies were really all about punishing her mother for being so weak, and failing to nurture her when she was younger. But she loved her porn images, she loved to masturbate to them, she wanted to be the dominant woman, never the submissive one. She gave up trying to psychoanalyse herself and work out where her deviant desires stemmed from and allowed herself to enjoy the orgasms that they inspired.

********************

In a world where it was difficult for like minded women to meet and enjoy one another's company, Bridget's only outlet for her fantasies was masturbation. So it was another three years before her next conquest; an older married woman with children. In those three years, she had come to understand that, in her quest to find a submissive woman, seduction would most likely be a more effective starting point than force.

Bridget had taken the woman home in a semi drunken state after the 1959 office Christmas party.

She worked across the corridor from Bridget and was in her early thirties. She had worn a fetching knee length red dress with the hem, cuffs and neckline trimmed with white 'fur.' As the party went on, some couples sneaked off to find somewhere secluded where, under the influence of alcohol, they could grope and fondle someone they'd had their eye on all year.

The object of the now twenty-four-year-old Bridget's interest had attracted the flirtatious attention of several men and, in her tipsy state, there was a danger that someone might take advantage of her. Bridget decided that it may as well be her. She managed to quietly steal her away from the party and led her, drunkenly tottering on high heels, to a dark empty office at the end of an unlit corridor.

"Ooh, where are you taking me?"

"You'll see."

"Jim from accounts just groped my tits, the lecherous bastard."

"I know Mandy, I watched him do it."

"Ahh, are you rescuing me Bridget? Are you my knight in shining armour?"

"I might be."

"Oh you're lovely, coming to the aid of a 'damsel in distress,' are you taking me to your castle to have your wicked way with me?"

Although Bridget realised that her colleague was merely indulging in harmless drunken humour, she felt a tingle in her pussy at that last remark. Bridget led her sexy, unsuspecting Christmas present into the empty office and closed the door.

"Ooh, you've got me all alone in the dark, what are you going to do to me?"

"This," said Bridget as she pushed Mandy against a wall and kissed her full on the lips.

As she pushed her tongue into Mandy's mouth, she ran her thumbs over her nipples several times. They began to harden and the arms that had been at Mandy's side embraced Bridget as they kissed enthusiastically.

"Oh God, I must be very drunk letting you kiss me like that."

Bridget was about to press home her advantage when they heard voices and laughter in the corridor. The door burst open and a young man and woman stopped in their tracks as they came into the room. Bridget had already released Mandy from her embrace and was pretending to look for something.

"We've just come to find Mandy's coat but it doesn't seem to be here."

"It might help if you put the light on," said the grinning young man.

"We couldn't find the light switch."

"It's just here," he said switching the light on.

"Oh, well your coat's not here anyway Mandy, come on, let's leave these two love birds to their Christmas canoodling."

Mandy's head was in a whirl as Bridget helped her on with her coat, led her out into the street and home to her new house. Her mother had died a year earlier and Bridget now lived alone. The walk in the cold air sobered Mandy up a little.

"Where are we going? I need to get home, it's Christmas Eve and they'll all be waiting for me."

"I'm your knight in shining armour remember. I'm taking you to my castle."

"No Bridget, I like you but not in that way."

"That's not what your nipples said just now in that dark office," said Bridget as she led a still slightly wobbly colleague to her front door.

Before Mandy could protest any further, Bridget eased her through the door into the front room. She took off Mandy's coat and hung it up with her own inside the cupboard under the stairs. Her pussy spasmed at the sight of Mandy in her smart red dress with it's faux Christmas trimmings, and her lovely legs in black stockings and heels.

"I can't stay long, just make me a coffee please then I'll have to head off home," said Mandy as she began to wish that she was completely sober.

She looked at Bridget's lovely red lips and wavy blonde hair. Bridget was wearing a close fitting knee length blue dress that showed off her figure and her blue eyes. Mandy had admired other women before, but the woman she was looking at now had kissed her not long since. It was easy for her to blame alcohol, but she knew that she'd been aroused by Bridget's soft sensual lips and her thumbs pressing against her hard nipples.

Bridget led her from the front room into the kitchen to make a pretence of making coffee. She was intensely aroused and fantasised about overpowering her colleague, tying her up and forcing her to come with her newly acquired 'Pifco Vibratory Massager,' before riding her face to her own delicious orgasm. She'd already used the mains powered massager on herself several times as she masturbated to grainy black and white photos of submissive women in their girdles, heels and stockings, being wrestled to the floor and tied up by dominant women in girdles, heels and stockings.

As Bridget lit the gas hob and filled a kettle she realised that she needed to plan properly if she was going to take a woman prisoner, and she needed to choose her intended victim very carefully. Mandy was married and the last thing Bridget needed was an angry, possibly violent husband at her front door.

But the gorgeous Mandy was here now and Bridget desperately wanted to fuck her. She hoped that if she could seduce her, Mandy wouldn't tell a living sole about their encounter.

Mandy made a move to leave, "Bridget, I really must go, I said I'd be home by six and it's five thirty now."

"I'll put you in a taxi, that'll get you home in ten minutes."

"What? A taxi? Where?"

"From the taxi rank around the corner."

"Oh! Good well perhaps I've got time for that coffee after all. But only a coffee mind, no more funny business."

"Sod the coffee, come here you sexy bitch."