Jen's Journey

I didn't know he had come back to the house. Probably because my eyes were closed and I was thrashing as the waves of pure heat and pleasure crashed through me. My screams were only slightly muffled by the ball gag. As the waves settled into little ripples, I half opened my eyes, floating.

That's when I saw that Patrick had stepped into the bedroom. He had left for work about twenty minutes before, but he must have forgotten something. He just stared at me, mouth hanging open, with a look of disgust and confusion. I had thought the sight of a naked girl with her legs open and bent, pussy swollen and soaking, petals open and showing the pink fire inside, would cause a smile. Instead he just stared with his face all screwed up in horror. The only sound in the room was the hum from my little rabbit vibe, and the louder hum from the vibe in my ass. Drool spilled from my gag and dripped down my chin.

"Puhhhgkkk" came out muffled as I tried to call his name, forgetting the gag.

He shook his head and left. The front door slammed.

Patrick was not into anything "weird and perverted" as he called it. Patrick was very pleasant, but he was also very bland. To him, I had just fucked Satan. I'm sure he masturbated, but I'm also sure he felt guilty after, and that he didn't use toys like I did.

That little scene ended our one year relationship. I wasn't heartbroken. I was relieved, I guess. But lost. So totally lost. I was twenty-four and I didn't know what I needed to feel whole and good. Or how to put out the constant fire inside me.

All the guys I had dated were dull and quiet. But my small experience with other women was different. Freshman year at college, when I was just 18, I was studying with a lovely girl, Debra. She was strong and smart and cute. After a long day in her dorm room, we ended up on the bed reading Cosmo, determined to shave our pussies the same. She began to measure my neatly trimmed little strip, but her fingers were so delicate on my silk, that each contact was a feather tickle, sending shivers of cold fire dancing across every bit of my flesh.

Her bouncy waves of blonde hair were caressing my hips as she studied the ruler, her warm breath on me, her blue eyes down. She never parted my slit, or entered me, she just touched as she measured. Looking back, she was probably teasing and torturing me, wondering what I would do.

Without thinking I pressed velvet petals to her fingers, and almost instantly the growing moisture was shiny, slippery, full on wetness. I started grinding, her still, almost rigid fingertips now poking into my hood as I moved, stretching it as my clit throbbed. Then I caught a full finger. I was so slippery it just slipped inside me. Debra didn't pull it out, she didn't even move it. Her finger froze and I fucked it like an animal in heat.

Rolling my hips, breathy grunts and whispers, pleading for another finger. Debra remained quite and then she met my eyes but I looked away and then down, riding the first fiery wave of pleasure building inside me. More grinding and fucking, feeling that finger slide in and out on silky slime, grinding on the plunge to mash my clit against her palm.

Still silent, still her eyes on me, her expression unreadable. Maybe embarrassed, maybe amused, maybe not amused and at her limit of putting up with me.

More fingers... I said in my head, but the words spilled out in a whimper, real words. Once said, once the embarrassment rushed over me, I became desperate and said it again and again and again.

Finally Debra slipped two more fingers inside me, pushing my velvet walls apart. Instinctively I squeezed them, fucking hard and grinding. My back arched off the bed as I rolled my hips, bare ass cheeks firm, plunging down, embarrassed but so needy.

Only my hoarse breathing and the squish-squish-squish of the fucking. Whimpers, desperate, I kept on those fingers, so helpless and horny. I couldn't stop, yet I felt so embarrassed, with Debra so quiet and stone-like. It seemed better to close my eyes and just go for it. Lightning drove deep into my core and I came in a great, jerky spasm around her fingers, a hoarse ahh broke out of my throat, rising into a scream.

I remember laying back against the pillow, my skin damp with sweat and my head swirling, and feeling way too embarrassed to open my eyes. I wished I could have just blinked to another place. But then a sweet, powerful smell was under my nose, and Debra's wet fingers pushed into my mouth and she laughed as I suckled them, as I drank in my own juice.

When I opened my eyes I was surprised to see her smiling, such a pretty face, and those sharp, blue eyes. I had an aftershock, a wave rippled inside me, and I looked to see that my inner thighs were wet.

She laughed.

It wasn't a "share the joy" laugh. She was amused at my helpless need. She saw me as pathetic. Sweet Debra turned out not to be sweet.

From then on she controlled me. I did chores, painted her toe nails (with plenty of toe suckling), anything and everything she wanted, always under threat of her telling all our friends, the whole school, that I was a puppy in heat, so pathetic I helplessly fucked her fingers. Debra treated me like a dog. At school I had no social status, just her eager yes-girl.

She made me lick her pussy all the time, which I should have enjoyed because she was so sexy and gorgeous. But she would pinch my clit really hard just before, so with the throbbing pain it was all I could do to concentrate on pleasuring her. If I licked too slow or too fast or she didn't cum hard enough, I'd get the table tennis paddle on the ass, hard! Hard enough to not be able to sit without excruciating pain for a day. She took great joy watching me squirm in my seat in any classes we shared.

One time Debra made me lick her when she had her period. She said cumming would make her feel better. I think she really just liked the idea that I was such a pathetic thing I would suffer any humiliation. The blood tasted kind of chalky and acidy, but I made such an effort to make her cum. She did.

After that, Debra kept a picture of me on her pin board, with my blood smeared lips and cheeks and nose. She hid it behind a picture of us at a party. If I behaved, it was just a pic of two happy college girls. But if I didn't, there was the threat of flipping up the top picture and revealing the little puppy girl, bloodied face to the camera.

I was terrified.

The next semester Debra dropped out to live with some guy she met. I was so scared that Debra would tell everyone or show the picture around on her last day, but she didn't. She handed me the picture, and pulled my head into her car and kissed me, long and sweet. Then with teary eyes, she drove off.

I know she wasn't much of a Domme, just an 18 year old girl drunk with power. That one kiss didn't make me realize I was a submissive, but it did make me feel good. I had endured lots of things that made me scared or humiliated or embarrassed at the time, but after that kiss, I would have done them all again.

A few years later I met another powerful girl, Jo. She transferred to my work from another store. She was a few years older, twenty four and I was about twenty-one at the time. She had a strength, almost a toughness. Jo had an attractive face not as pretty or delicate as many other girls, but overall she oozed sexiness. She had a neck tattoo (and later I found the back and leg tats), and short blonde hair, kind of spiky, and she would have been arrogant if she wasn't so charming. It felt completely natural to do whatever she said. I had to please her.

We went for drinks after work, a bunch of us, and Jo took me home. I tingled that she liked me. Jo kissed just right, wet but not sloppy, teasing and passionate. She nibbled my lower lip, stretching it, tugging, then even biting and capturing. I drank her saliva and inhaled her breath. She radiated heat for me, and that only made me wetter.

She tugged off my clothes and suckled my nipples, biting and then soothing with her wet tongue. She paid so much attention to every bit of me, I was flying. She turned me over, on the dirty worn carpet, and she licked my ass cheeks, nibbling and kissing, sucking hard and leaving hickeys all over. Then Jo slid her tongue through my ass valley, wet and slow, and poked into my asshole, lots of warm saliva pouring in. Her tongue pushed inside, and soon she was tongue fucking my ass. It was the most sensitive, pleasurable thing anyone had done to me, and so intimate! I drowned, overwhelmed, and kept grinding my clit into the carpet, and soon I vibrated and shook and I came hard.

From then on I did whatever she wanted. And she wanted a lot. She fucked other girls, but often would have two of us. That's how I met Charlotte. Charlotte was my age, and pretty with short brown hair, very easy to get along with, and she had a beautiful smile. Charlotte was submissive too, and together we pleased Jo as much as possible.

One day Jo had us strip and then go down to the basement. The room felt cold. Old boxes and all kinds of junk surrounded us. The only light came from a few red candles. They threw weak yellow light and sent shadows scurrying into corners. Jo handcuffed our hands in front of us, with those cuffs that have pink fur on them. I thought that was cute, and that it set the tone for this as "soft." But I was wrong.

She commanded "open" and we opened our mouths. She strapped ball gags on us, and cinched them tight. We had never been gagged before, clearly Jo was learning and experimenting.

We each stood on a few thick old phone books, and Jo put the cuff chains over hooks in the beams above. Then she kicked the books away, and our feet slid off and we hung a few inches off the basement floor. The fur on the cuffs stopped them from biting into our flesh, but it still hurt to hang like that.

Jo put a small, old camera tripod in front me. It had a big vibrator taped to it. She switched it on and a low hum buzzed softly.

"Jen will be the first to get pleasure. She may fuck the vibrator until she comes. But every second she's on the vibe, Charlotte gets a smack with the crop." Jo slapped her palm with the thin black riding crop, the air went SWOOSH and the impact made a THWACK!

"Begin."

Charlotte was hanging in front of me, a few yards away. She faced away, her back to me. I could see her sweet ass cheeks in the dim light. I took a breath, my shoulders and wrists already aching from hanging, and I rolled my hips and swung the few inches forward, trying to put my pussy to the round head of the vibe. I made contact and instantly felt the warm glow of pleasure.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

I saw the crop contact Charlotte's back, saw faint pink marks already. After a few more thwacks, I managed to thrust my hips off the vibe. The head was shiny with my slime.

Jo stopped, watched, waited.

The glow burned within. I felt the cool air on my wetness...and arched forward to go again. My folds kissed the vibe and then the thwacking started and I hung, tingling, a piece of meat for amusement. Yet I had to take the pleasure, fire to put out fire.

Drool spilled from my gag and hung in a long string, I felt it break and I eventually opened my eyes. The pink marks on Charlotte's back were now red, and blood vessels were broken. The marks were awful, several wide, red and almost black stripes. THWACK! THWACK! But I couldn't pull away from the vibe, the pleasure wave kept building...surely I would cum in a second...

The next time I opened my eyes Charlotte's back was full on bleeding, drops of red were on the floor. Jo was glaring at me, I sensed she would stop, so I fucked that vibe harder and faster and then jerked about as I spasmed. I groaned and moaned as the waves crashed through, shaking more and more, clit tortured, overloaded with sensation as the vibe still hummed. I couldn't let go though. My twitching knocked the tripod over. Tears spilled and mixed with my drool. What had I done to Charlotte?

Jo wiped the vibe off and slammed it down in front of Charlotte's pussy. But Charlotte sobbed, her whole body convulsing in agony.

Jo came up behind me and started hitting my back with the crop. She didn't care if Charlotte used the vibe or not, but I could see the poor girl did use it, I think just to distract her from the pain. I grunted and then sobbed, each blow was full strength, now only punishment.

I blacked out and awoke on the floor, gag off, cuffs off, next to Charlotte, both our asses high in the air. Another woman dressed our wounds, and yelled. Charlotte just sobbed.

***

We never played again. Charlotte avoided me. Jo froze me out at work. Thankfully she quit a few months later, but I really missed Charlotte. That's when I met Patrick, and we started living together. He was nice, and I thought I needed tame.

Now, a year later, he had walked out and been gone a week. Charlotte's text scared me. She still had my number. Was she sending me a hate message? A butt dial? I took a breath and read the message, trembling. She wanted to meet for drinks after work. Her treat. I texted back "sure."

Charlotte had much longer hair now, and she looked terrific. I couldn't help but smile when I saw her and approached the table. Tears spilled down my cheeks though. She just got up and gave me a hug, a real hug, and held me tight. She tried to comfort me, and I couldn't help but think it was embarrassing for her and that I was causing a bit of a scene. But her smile to me across the table, and her holding my hands so warmly, said I must be over-reacting. She seemed genuinely glad to see me, and whatever reason she wanted to meet, it wouldn't be bad.

"I'm so, so, sooo sorr-" I stuttered out.

"It was Jo's fault, sweetie." Charlotte squeezed my hands warmly and she wouldn't let go. "It was an interesting game but she had no idea what she was doing. I probably would have done the same as you if I had gone first, but Jo should have been in control."

The waitress brought two glasses of wine and gave a polite smile. Charlotte thanked her and I just tried to hide my tears.

"Drink up, Jen," Charlotte said, and we drank. I think I gulped mine a bit, and she laughed.

We made a little small talk. Charlotte knew about Patrick leaving, it's why she called me. She knew I still worked at the stupid clothing store. I asked her if she was some rich executive, because her dark suit was expensive, and she just radiated happiness, the kind that comes with having comforting things. With being safe and happy, I guess.

"It's not the things," she said, "it's the people."

Charlotte had been living a magical life for most of a year. She had met wonderful people, she said, and it really changed her. She contacted me because she thought I needed to meet these people, and have a chance at really being happy, too.

It sounded like a cult, so I got all nervous and defensive and she just laughed.

"It's not a cult. It's just an informal group of people who live the lifestyle."

I had no idea what she meant, but Charlotte said I could see for myself. They had a party about every two weeks, a big weekend party. There was one this weekend. I didn't want to go. I felt so nervous, and it sounded odd. Even if it turned out to be innocent, I didn't want to buy Tupperware or bulk cleaning products from an "upline" in NuLife or whatever.

"Jen," Charlotte said, all serious and taking my hands in hers again. "Please do this as a favor to me?"

She didn't add "you owe me big time", but I really, really did, so I said yes.

***

Charlotte picked me up at six that Friday night. It was a newish Audi, I don't know the model, but it was pretty sporty for a serious car, and very swish. About triple my year's pay if I remembered the TV ads. Now I thought Charlotte must be selling drugs, or maybe had a Sugar Daddy.

She wore a business outfit again, medium length gray wool skirt and crisp conservative blouse, though it was unbuttoned a bit low, showing just a hint of a delicious purple lacy bra. This outfit put me at ease, really. How scary and wild could the party be if she dressed liked an executive? I wore the poor equivalent, a synthetic skirt and a plain stretch top and a cheap short everyday Fall coat that didn't match. I noticed when Charlotte stepped on the shiny metal gas pedal that she had on knee high black lace-up boots. The leather was real and soft. I guessed the boots were around my week's pay. I had flats I got for $9.95, sensible if we had to stand around making polite chit chat while eating cheese cubes.

We drove for over an hour, the sky darkened to black and I got nervous again. We were headed into the country, way past suburbia and streetlights. Almost 7:30 and we weren't even there yet. I was hungry and thirsty and about to become a whiny bitch. Charlotte laughed and said we'd be staying the night. I freaked at that, I didn't have an overnight bag and I really wanted to go home. Charlotte got serious.

"I can turn around and take you home if you really want, Jen, but I'm just going to pester you every two weeks until you meet these people."

I stayed quiet, trying to process her words and gauge how angry she would be if I made her turn around. Or begged her to. I still felt so guilty. My back had scars from that night, and I didn't get half the beating Charlotte did. Not by far.

I was teary, I'm sure she could see that in the dash lights. There were few headlights passing us out here. I would soon be a frightened mess. Charlotte slowed and pulled over onto the dirt shoulder. We skidded slightly, throwing up pebbles and little rocks. I heard them hit the expensive paint work and I felt guilty even about that.

Charlotte put her hand to my cheek and wiped a tear with her thumb, ever so gentle. Then she brought it to her lips and licked the tear off. "Please?" she said softly.

Charlotte's usually smiley eyes became glossy, and I melted. She was either a magnificent actress in my abduction to a bizarre hell, or she was sincere.

I owed her, and maybe it would all be good anyway. "Okay," I whispered.

"Thank you, and you will thank me," she said, pulling back onto the road.

Twenty or thirty minutes later we headed down a long dirt road. It wasn't really dirt, but some kind of packed something, not quite a normal road either. Very country. Probably five minutes later we turned into a driveway, long enough itself, that brought us to an old Victorian farmhouse. Twenty or more cars were parked in a large gravel area in front of a huge barn. Outside lights displayed the house, newly painted and restored. Not quite a southern Tara from Gone With the Wind, but respectable and costly.

Charlotte held my hand as we walked several yards to the front steps. "Don't be scared. Everyone here is friendly and perfectly safe. Okay?"

I nodded and Charlotte smiled, then kissed me. Her lips were playful, but in control. Her tongue slipped inside my mouth and I caressed it with my own. A sexy kiss, like our old kisses, but also warm and friendly, maybe the equivalent of a hug and an ass squeeze.

Charlotte rang the bell. I could just hear it above music, not too loud, and a buzz of conversation. From the cars and the noise, there must be fifty or more people inside. The door opened and a tall, wide young man in black jeans and a t-shirt smiled. He started to ask me for an invitation, but then he saw Charlotte in the porch light. He half bowed and stepped back, opening the door for us. Charlotte led me over the threshold and the door closed behind us with a click of the lock.

I turned and was relieved to see a knob deadlock, so we could get out if it came to that. We were in an old fashioned foyer. As big as my living room, three other doors, and just a round table with a vase of flowers and covered in car keys. Oh no, a swinger-and then I saw that the keys were in neat rows, like a valet would arrange them. Phew! Charlotte handed her keys to the young man, who also took my coat. He opened the inner sliding door straight ahead.