Ellie Submits Pt. 12

Ellie still isn't used to being almost permanently naked. After showering and drying herself off, she instinctively wants to get dressed. She hunts around for her clothes, but they aren't there. She can barely remember what she did with her clothes. They must still be in the dining room. In a disorganized heap in the corner, where she left them when her domme made her strip, hours and hours ago. It feels strange to just hang her towel up and walk away.

She joins Miriam in the master bedroom, and they curl up in bed together, watching TV, but not really watching it. A gardening show, a pleasant, slow background burble which demands no real attention. Ellie has kind of lost track of time, but it's late afternoon now, and the Sun is setting. She's starting to become hungry.

"How do you feel?" Miriam asks her.

"I don't think I've ever had this much sex in one day," Ellie says, stretching dreamily. "And you know I've never done this much bondage before. I really liked being upside-down. I want to try that again." She slides her hand along her domme's inner thigh. "It feels so good to just... give you control. To stop being me, and be part of you instead."

Miriam asks, "And how do you feel about Simone?"

"Oh, she's so beautiful, ma'am! And she's so good with her tongue..."

Miriam smiles. "Wait until you find out what she can do with the rest of her body."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Young lady," Miriam asks, "have you ever been involved in a ménage à trois before?"

Ellie shakes her head.

"Polyamorous relationships are always different. They always take some adjustment, and they can become very complex. And fraught. They require some emotional discipline. Personally, I dislike drama. Bondage, domination, sadism, even some mind games, yes. Drama, no. So, I have ground rules.

"This is not a triangle, and it's definitely not a love triangle. It's a V. I am your domme, and I am Simone's domme. You both submit to me. Simone has been my submissive lover for longer than you have, but that doesn't give her authority over you. She is not your domme. And she isn't your girlfriend, either. She is my sub. Her body is mine, just like yours is, and you will respect that. Do you understand?"

"...I think so?"

"For example," Miriam says, "if I leave you two alone together, nothing happens. Unless I say so."

"Nothing?"

"Hands off. No fooling around, no making out. No cunnilingus or tribbing or any other kind of sex you can think of. I would consider that a very serious transgression."

Ellie thinks about this.

Miriam adds, "Unless I order you to fool around. In which case you'll fuck like wild mink."

"Oh!" Ellie blushes.

She thinks some more. And then asks, "If Simone isn't my girlfriend, but we're in this relationship together and we're sometimes... making love... if we're submitting to you together, then what is she to me?" She laughs, uncertainly. "My co-worker?"

"Your sister sub," Miriam tells her. "Your trusted sex partner. It's different from anything else. Like I said, it'll be strange. But you'll adjust. I hope that you'll also be friends. But... being friends isn't actually required. Subs don't have to like each other to put on a good submissive performance together. Trust counts for more, and trust isn't the same thing. And good communication counts, too. In fact, that's something you should keep in mind, young lady. One day, it may please me to have you fuck someone you don't like at all. Or don't find attractive at all."

Ellie looks up at her domme.

"And you'll do it," Miriam informs her. "And you'll love it."

"Yes, ma'am," Ellie breathes. It's a difficult thing to contemplate in the abstract. A deep, unpleasant act of submission. Potentially, a supremely erotic experience.

*

Simone joins them. She, like Ellie, is now entirely nude. She is a diminutive, very slim young woman, a few years older than Ellie, with very dark skin and pure black hair. She wears her hair in a cute short bob which falls partly over one of her eyes. Simone has had time to restyle it -- there's no way of knowing that she was wearing a latex hood for the past few hours. She has a varied collection of piercings in both ears, including a Daith piercing. She wears a very thin, undecorated black leather choker.

Ellie is amazed to discover that Simone's waistline really is that narrow. Her corset wasn't enhancing her figure, it was just sitting naturally on her hips, and following the natural curve of her body. Her lower ribs stand out. She is very flat-chested, a AA-cup maybe, with very broad, dark areolae. Her nipples are pierced horizontally with silver barbells. There is a silver stud in her belly button, too. She walks with the trained grace of a ballet dancer. If Ellie didn't already know that Simone is exceptionally flexible, she would guess it, just from the way she moves.

She is absurdly beautiful. An irresistible sexual being. Ellie admits it -- Miriam has very good taste in submissive lovers. Ellie bites her lip, happily, remembering that Miriam selected her as sub too.

Miriam holds her free hand out. Simone takes it as she mounts the bed, and slinks beneath Miriam's arm. There is plenty of room for all three of them.

"I was just explaining our boundaries," Miriam says to Simone.

"Yes, ma'am," she replies. Her voice is warm and sensual.

Ellie can't help but stare lustily at her fellow sub's body. Simone catches Ellie's eye for a second, smiles warmly, and looks away. Ellie has to fight the urge to reach out and caress her. To stroke her cheek, kiss her. To touch her, pleasure her, worship her, make love to her, bring her to climax--

Boundaries. Here, naked in bed together with their domme, there is a boundary between them.

"Ellie," Miriam says, "this is Simone. My Nymph. Simone has been submitting to me for... what is it? Four years?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"We met a little after I started as office director. The CEO threw a winter party at his penthouse in Manhattan. This was the previous CEO, not Caitlin. All the C-levels were invited, and all the executives. About a hundred people in total. The entire upper echelon of the corporation. I was there, and I was about the most junior person there. I was the newbie. It was an amazing event. Black tie. His penthouse was-- you'd have to see it to believe it.

"I spent most of the evening networking. Working, in other words. Like I say, I'd just started, and knowing who's who is just part of the job at my level. You can't get anything done without knowing who can get it done. But then... there was Simone."

Simone looks up, but doesn't say anything. She lets her domme tell the story.

"She seemed very out-of-place. She was the youngest person at the party by about a decade, aside from maybe some of the wait staff. And she absolutely didn't want to be there. And when the drinks were going around and everybody was starting to loosen up, she seemed to be surrounded by older guys who she wasn't interested in. So, I went in there and rescued her. And then I asked her what she was doing there, because she was clearly too young to be an executive, unless she was the CEO's daughter or something."

Miriam stops talking. She leaves an unusually long pause, waiting for Ellie to get it.

Ellie stares blankly for a second, and then works it out. She gasps. "Oh my gosh!"

Simone smirks.

And Miriam cackles with glee. "I know! Isn't it great? Eleanor Holloway, meet Simone Walmsley, daughter of our former Chief Executive Officer, Peter Walmsley. Simone is the richest person in this bed, by at least two zeroes."

"Oh my gosh!" Ellie says again. She is boggle-eyed. She has so many questions, she doesn't know which one to start with. "Does he know?"

"We've kept it pretty quiet," Simone says, trading a knowing glance with her domme.

"Her mother came close to finding out a few times," Miriam says. "But the bottom line is, we're all adults. Simone is a very independent young woman, and she does her own thing most of the time..."

"They don't want to know," Simone says, firmly. She means it in both senses.

*

The main space of the penthouse is crowded with sharply-attired guests. Tuxedoes and evening dresses. There's a vibrant level of conversation in the place, and a string quartet playing in one corner.

Simone knocks back half of her champagne. "Dad wants me to join the company," she says to Miriam. She's having to raise her voice a little. "He's got this executive role lined up for me next year. He wants me to learn how business works. He said I should come to the winter party, press the flesh, get to know some faces." She looks around the faces, and sighs.

Miriam guides Simone away from the knot of older executives, toward a free couch. "So you're not interested in business? At all?"

"Well--"

"A girl like you should at least learn how money works."

"Sure," Simone says. She flops down on the couch, miraculously avoiding spilling anything. "I guess... but I don't give a shit about pharmaceuticals. Or nepotistic shit. I want to find my own way. You know what I mean?"

Miriam sits beside her. "Yes, I do."

"I know enough about money to know how to hire a really good accountant," Simone says. "That's all I need to know. I'm twenty-two. I can do anything. So I'm not going to work here. I'm going to do something, but not this. Something creative. I don't know."

"That's great," Miriam says. "You're in an amazing position to do something creative. What were you thinking?"

"Something... theatrical? I don't know. I like putting on a show."

"You like to dress up," Miriam observes, nodding at Simone's outfit. "I don't have to tell you, you look amazing. My God."

"Yeah..." Simone looks down at herself. She is wearing a floor-length ball gown in sparkling gold, cut improbably low in front. A long slit in the dress rises almost to her hip, showing off one of her slim, toned legs. A single diamond sits at the base of her throat, suspended by a gold chain so thin as to be nearly invisible, drawing the eye to her attractive décolletage. Matching diamond earrings. Purple eye shadow. Impossibly straight, silky hair, black streaked with extremely dark purple. She is, maybe, a little overdressed for what is technically a work function.

"Is that the real reason?" Miriam asks. "That you're here tonight, I mean. You wanted to dress up?"

Simone sighs heavily. "No..." She looks around the party again, making it far too obvious that there's only one thing she's here to look for. And that it -- he -- isn't here.

"Oh, honey," Miriam says, sympathetically. "You really wanted to get laid tonight? I'm sorry, but we hire for business acumen. Experience, market insight, domain knowledge. Youth and fuckability, not so much. The only two guys in this room I'd call 'sexy' are over there--"

"I've seen them," Simone says. Early thirties, charming smiles, really great hair. They make a beautiful couple.

Miriam drinks, and shuffles a little closer to Simone. "Alright, honey," she says. "Spill it. Tell me what happened."

"...To my ex?"

"Mmm hmm." It's Christmas. Miriam knows a girl like Simone isn't single at Christmas unless something screwed up.

Simone grunts with irritation. She shakes her head, spending a moment figuring out just how much she wants to share. She drinks another finger of champagne, and decides that she feels like Miriam would get it. She leans toward her, conspiratorially.

"You ever break up with a guy because he didn't know what he was doing?"

"In bed? Yes. Twice. Once mid-coitus."

"Whoah."

"Kicked him out of my apartment with the condom still on," Miriam says. "Threw him his clothes... eventually. His performance was completely unacceptable. And he would. Not. Listen to what I was telling him to do." She sips her champagne.

Simone laughs, a little impressed, a little nervous.

"I insist on being in control," Miriam explains. "I'm sorry. You were saying?"

Simone says, "...I used to finish myself off while my boyfriend was in the shower."

Miriam puts a sympathetic hand on her arm. "Oh, no. Simone."

"And he started hearing me through the wall, and he didn't even think about it! He didn't say anything. For, like, a month. He thought it was normal! Like, regular behavior for a girl after sex? Then he finally mentioned it to his friends and they called him out on it and he called me and I told him to go and read a book and find out what sex is, and then I blocked him. That was the breakup. That was, like... a week ago. And since then..." She growls with frustration, and downs the rest of her champagne.

"Men don't appreciate what they've got when they've got it," Miriam says. "Have you ever been with a woman?"

Simone shrugs extravagantly. "Agh. I don't know. I... fooled around with girls a few times in college. But I'm, like... I'm like eighty percent straight. At least."

"No," Miriam says. "Not a girl. A woman."

There's no real silence in the room. It's just getting noisier as the champagne continues to flow. But, between Miriam and Simone, a space opens up. Simone looks into Miriam's eyes for a second. And then takes in the rest of her.

Miriam Wright is an extremely attractive woman. She is forty-five years old, with high cheekbones, piercing gray-green eyes, and a bright, thin, inviting smile. She has masses of dark hair, swept back and pinned so as to fall down her back in shimmering waves. A thin silver necklace sits high on her throat. She wears a black halter-neck dress, which leaves her shoulders and arms bare but covers the rest of her body, tightly hugging her curvaceous figure from her neck to her knees. Very nice legs. Sheer tights or stockings, strappy black heels. She is bewitchingly beautiful. And she is -- Simone can't ignore it -- absolutely stacked.

Something flickers inside of Simone. Even she doesn't know exactly what she means by "eighty percent straight", but... If she were going to be with a girl, or a woman, it would have to be someone special. A notch above.

"Yeah..." she says, in response to nothing in particular.

Miriam sets her champagne flute aside. She touches Simone's hand briefly. "Come with me. I want to show you something you might be interested in."

Simone hesitates for a second. She glances around the rest of the party. A lot of envious heads are turning in her direction, as they have been all evening.

"Do you know somewhere we can go?" Miriam asks her.

"Upstairs. I've got a suite." The penthouse is gigantic, almost a mansion unto itself, occupying the entire top two floors of the building.

"Take me there," Miriam says. She picks her evening bag up. "We can talk about your career, and I can show you some things." She says this in a completely innocent, earnest tone of voice.

"Yeah..." Simone says. She takes another look down and up Miriam's figure, then back into her eyes.

Miriam raises her eyebrows, expectantly. Her meaning is abundantly clear.

"Fuck it. Yeah."

*

Upstairs, they pass a lackey, a gangly young man, part of the serving staff. Miriam lets Simone go ahead, and stops him. "I need your necktie."

"I..." He doesn't know what she would need his necktie for.

Miriam gives him a stern look, which answers his unasked question with, "You don't need to know what I need your necktie for."

He hurriedly unthreads it. She gives him a fifty in exchange.

*

Simone's suite is lavishly appointed, and immaculately tidy aside from some randomly scattered items of luggage. Simone's family has residences in a half-dozen cities. She doesn't spend a lot of time in this one. From her perspective, it's essentially a luxury hotel suite. The door opens into a spacious lounge. There's a separate bedroom. A curtain covers the floor-to-ceiling window.

Miriam sets the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door handle. She turns to Simone. "Sit on the couch, there."

Simone does so. She wasn't sure how this was going to go, so she seems happy to let Miriam call the shots for now. Miriam pulls a coffee table out of the way, and kneels on the rug at Simone's feet. She lifts Simone's dress up to around her waist. Underneath it, Simone is wearing a delicate black thong. Miriam tugs it down, over her dainty feet, and throws it away. She moves quickly. She knows what she's doing. She knows what she wants. She wants to show Simone what it can be like. What pleasure really is.

"So, about my career," Simone giggles.

"Shut up."

Miriam suckles her own fingers, wetting them. Then she strokes Simone's lips, and teases her and massages her, and circles her and explores her and, soon enough, goes inside of her. One finger, and then, when Simone shifts her body and she seems open to it, two and three. At the same time, with her lips and tongue, Miriam attends to the upper part of Simone's sex, engulfing her clitoral hood with a warm, introductory kiss. She pushes Simone's hood back. She rolls her tongue tightly around Simone's fat, twitching clit, giving it a snug home like a tiny wet pussy all of its own. Then she moves her tongue forward and back, fucking it.

All basic techniques, really.

Simone gasps, at first. She gives up the soothing, positive, breathy responses she always makes during sex, to show her lover that she's there, and she's feeling it, and it feels good. But within a few minutes, she stops being able to help herself. Miriam finds the right rhythm, and Simone's gasps become involuntary. She begins to whine with soft pleasure, and with surprise at how rapidly her new lover is turning her on. She's had oral before, but only from inexperienced girls her own age, or reluctant boys with no understanding of her body's needs. Miriam is angelic. Practiced and pure. It's never felt like this.

As Miriam ups the intensity, Simone starts to cry out. Her back arches, and she kicks her feet. Her vision blurs, and her hips buck. Miriam is lifting her up and up and up, through layers of golden ecstasy. How high can she go? Where does it stop? It feels so good. Normally she would have come by now.

Miriam grabs Simone around the thighs with both hands, and pulls her hips forward roughly, and takes her to heaven.

Simone clutches at Miriam's hair. "Oh, God, yes! AHH! AIH, YES!"

Miriam doesn't release her as she reaches her climax. Simone's whole body convulses, and she swears crazily, eyes watering. It's like a hammer blow to her senses. It feels like jumping off a tall cliff into a lake of pure blue-green water. For a second, she can't even breathe.

As she recovers, she finds that Miriam is leaning over her, cradling her, staring into her eyes. Simone focuses on her new lover. Miriam kisses her, deeply and passionately. She is a wonderful kisser. A little cherry of pleasure, on top of the mountain of sweet ice cream.

"How did you like that?" Miriam whispers.

"Oh my God..." Simone rolls her neck. She doesn't have anything to compare it with. She paws at Miriam's chest.

"More?"

"Uh huh!"

Miriam stands up. She flourishes the necktie, and then winds it tightly around her palm. "If you want more, it's going to be on my terms. You're going to be blindfolded, with your hands tied behind your back."

Simone tuts, stretching a hand out. "No, baby, come back here."

"No."

"Take your dress off," Simone says. "I want to see your big tits."

"No. Go kneel over the edge of your bed, with your wrists crossed."

Simone blinks, puzzled. "Why are you being so...?"

"I like to be in control during sex," Miriam says. "I like to give the orders and I like to be obeyed. We have some room to negotiate, but... if you want to see me naked tonight, you're going to do as I say."

Simone hesitates. This is new to her. "What if I don't want to do as you say?"

"Then we're done."

Simone bites her lip.

"Come on," Miriam says, softening her tone a little. "Just let me show you what it's like. I think you'll like it. You can say 'Stop' anytime."