Just June Pt. 01

Her tongue felt so good on her pussy, shivers went through to her core, and she felt a delightful mix of saliva and nectar leaking where that the busy tongue was working its magic. Her hands played with her breasts, she pulled at her nipples, knowing it would bring her closer, but she knew she possessed a luxury she had never thought to have - she could decide when to orgasm. The pretty petite woman between her thighs was a natural pleaser, and June loved her as she loved June. But this was still so new to June. She was no domme. She was a simple northern girl from a humble background, and yet Lady Pixie, was there, between her thighs, eating her out.

"Good slut!" June said, still hardly believing these were her words. She was usually the one on the receiving end. Yet, as she looked down at her eager lover, and caught sight of her red cheeks in the mirror, she shivered and then, as Pixie's tongue worked its magic on her, June surrendered to the growing tsunami, squirting her pleasure into her lover's face and then, as she calmed, even a little squirt of pee. Pixie carried on licking.

"Good girl," June sighed happily, That, she reflected, was not something she had ever imagined she would say to someone else. As she ruffled her lover's hair playfully, knowing that Pixie would give her what she needed, she reflected on how this delight had come her way.

June had always had to work hard. Nothing came easy to her. She was an only child of a single Mum, not the easiest of backgrounds. Money was hard-earned and scarce. June had not shone at school. From that, she had concluded that she was "thick," and left as soon as she could. The part-time job she had in the restaurant had become her evening work, and she supplemented that with office work in the morning.

If June did not rate her intelligence at all, she did not compensate for that by thinking herself anything beautiful. Her figure was okay, long legs and a firm bum, but her breasts did not seem big enough sometimes, and sometimes they seemed too big. She had a brief fling with a boy who worked nearby, but that was enough to make her realise that boys were not her thing. She had read on the internet about girls who loved other girls, lesbians - but she found it hard to think of herself that way. It was easy enough to meet boys, just go down the pub by yourself, or sign up on a chat site, but how did you meet girls?

In the end, the chat room she frequented gave an answer of sorts. An older, mature woman began conversations with her. Uncertain at first, June eventually responded. She was not used to anyone "fancying" her. The woman, Kate, began to push some of June's buttons.

"Are you horny for me, June?" She typed one night after June had gone online, looking for... well she was not sure, but what Kate provided proved explosive.

"I am," she tentatively admitted.

"Wet panties?" Kate went on.

Blushing, June admitted that was the case.

"What are you wearing?"

June told her, only to have Kate respond:

"Strip to your panties."

"What, here?" June had typed back.

"Yes, if you want to be a good girl for me."

Those two words, "good girl", made June's pussy wetter. In truth she had been squeezing her thighs together anyway, and her hand had been straying up her skirt, so removing it, and her blouse and bra, came almost as a relief.

"Now, June, feel inside your panties and tell me what you feel."

Doing as she was told, which send tingles everywhere, June replied:

"Wetness."

"What are you wanting to do?"

"Rub myself."

"Is that what good girls do?"

June blushed. The words, this treatment, were having a strange effect on her. On the one hand her brain was telling her to resist, Kate was online, she would not know what June was really doing. On the other hand, well on the other hand was her pussy, and that really needed seeing to.

"No," she said.

"What sort of girls ask if they can rub themselves?"

June took a deep breath. This was some game Kate was playing, for sure, but it was a game which was sucking her in. She ventured an answer:

"Sluts."

"Are you a slut, June?"

The word sent thrills to every part of her, her brain felt as though she had drunk some powerful concoction which had dulled her sense of what was proper and intensified her sexual drive, which was at full tilt. Could she answer in the affirmative?

"Yes, I am a slut."

"And whose slut, are you?"

"Your slut, Kate."

And that was how it began, and it set a pattern.

Kate was skilful online, and she took her time, feeling her way into June's unexplored fantasies and libido until she found what she called her "buttons," that was the sort of play which triggered June's erotic imagination and stimulated her sex drive. Bit by bit, almost unconsciously, June became prepared to go deeper into what Kate called subspace.

Then came the day Kate suggested they meet at what June thought of as a posh hotel in her home city. It was not the sort of place June would ever go, except as a waitress or a cleaner, so she felt honoured, but also overawed. At last she would meet Kate.

By this stage there was not much that Kate could have asked that June would not have done, so when she instructed her on how to dress, she followed it to the letter. Knowing June's size, Kate sent her a very expensive black dress, mid-thigh, it said, but June thought it a little short, not least since she was forbidden from wearing panties. She was wearing a pretty push-up bra Kate had sent her, and four-inch heels with more make up than she would ever normally wear.

June felt like a bit of a tart, which of course, was what Kate wanted, and when she saw Kate, tall and commanding, looking a million dollars in some Stella McCartney outfit which had probably cost as much as June earned in sex months, she felt truly submissive. Kate smiled and pointed to her bags.

"Take those up, June, there's a good girl."

Blushing, June did as she was told.

"As we are on the first floor, you will walk."

"Yes, Mistress."

That was the start of what Kate called her "training."

Once in the room, Kate had made her strip and examined her intimately, taking a delight in making her bend over and spread her arse cheeks.

After making June eat her out, Kate let her cum.

t was the start of a torrid and passionate period of June's life. Suddenly some of the things she had read about came to life. Some of the things she was not sure about, and when she was not aroused, it embarrassed her that she called herself a "slut." Whatever June was, she was faithful, always, and it never once occurred to her not to be.

Away from Kate, and in the wee small hours, June would think about the "training." It aroused her most of the time, but she could not help feeling that what she thought of as role play elements, were, for Kate, something else. She could not put her finger on that, especially when her finger was otherwise occupied, but somewhere, at the back of her mind, there was a shadow.

Though June did not think a lot of herself, she had her pride, and she worked hard at both her jobs, and at helping her mum. What no one ever saw or heard, was June complain. It would probably have embarrassed her had she known that her bosses thought highly of her. She did notice they seemed to listen to her, but put that down to them being nice.

Then came that awful evening.

It was the usual Saturday meet at the posh hotel. June came dressed as instructed, in a short black dress, her black choker/collar on show, and her face made up as Kate wanted. As usual, there were no panties.

Kate told her to make herself at home, have a drink, as she had a fresh "assignment" for her "slut."

That was a break in the usual pattern, which was for Kate to "inspect" her and get her all on edge, before making June serve her. There was something about Kate's manner that made June feel uneasy. She loved the role play, but... well she had her buts - and that was not her butt, she giggled to herself.

"Right, slut, we have reached an important stage in your training. You have learned to be a good girl for me, and now we shall expand that."

June felt the unease deepen. Usually the use of the words "slut" and "training" in the context of role play turned her on; but not this time.

"You have half an hour to prepare yourself my slut, two friends of mine are coming to see what a good pet you are. Don't worry, they are both women, and if you satisfy them, you will pass the test."

June felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. Her thoughts jumbled together as they poured out: how dare Kate? How bloody dare she? I am not a tart, June thought, just because when we play I get aroused, that does not mean I am a bloody whore.

The whole thing struck to the heart of who June was, and at this critical moment in her life, June knew, for certain, who she was and what she wanted. She was June, the faithful and hardworking and honest June, not some tart to be whored out to Kate's posh friends.

"Get on with it, slut!" Kate ordered.

June would not quickly forget the shock on Kate's face when she stood up and replied:

"I may be a slut for you, by choice, but that does not make me a whore you can pimp out."

"It fucking well does!" Kate declared angrily.

Picking up her bag and heading for the door, June glared at her.

"Fuck them yourself, or, at any rate, fuck you! I am not your whore!"

Kate looked as though she had been struck by lightning, and the anger that blazed in June's heart and soul was so strong that Kate recoiled from her. June felt a sense of power previously unknown to her. That anger carried June out and all the way home. To Kate's texts, she did not reply. To her phone calls she made no answer.

It was only later, after she had taken care of mum, that the shaking and the tears started, and once they started, they would not stop. It felt like her heart was broken. How could Kate want that? How could she have thought of June like that? What was between them was for them.

She slept but little.

She blocked Kate's number and resolved to face the future alone. Sad she may have been, but she preferred that to becoming a rich woman's plaything. If June chose to be submissive, it was from love. Without that, she'd not do anything, and preferred it that way.

Broken hearts mend, so they say, but if they do, it was, June discovered, slowly. Kate tried to contact her by the old chat room, but June blocked that too. June's heart was a kind one, but she was hurt, deeply hurt, and she could not imagine it healing. June had expected little from life, and it had duly delivered just that. But June was a survivor and life had made her resilient. She got on with things.

Then, just into the early Christmas period, this petite woman had come into the restaurant.

"Would you, by chance, have a table for one?" She asked in an accent so posh that June wondered whether she was a minor Royal? June knew her fashions, and even if she could not afford such designs, she knew from Kate, a Stella McCartney outfit when she saw one, and those shoes were from Christian Louboutin, and unless she was mistaken, that clutch bag was Gucci. Okay, thought June, the restaurant aimed at the high end of the market, but what on earth was this posh southerner doing up north?

Ever the poised professional, June smiled and said:

"Welcome, let me take a look at our bookings, but if you are looking for a table now, I am sure we can accommodate you."

"Thank you ever so much," said the petite lady, although what June heard was "Tharnk ewe evah so much." But the smile made up for it. Unless June's instinct had let her down, this one would be a good tipper.

June showed her to a table near the window so she could look out. She handed her the menu, and asked if she would like a drink?

"I can get you something while you look at the menu, and there are some specials on the board."

"If I could have a small glass of the house Chablis, please, and when you come back, perhaps I could ask your advice on what is good?"

"Of course," June said, going off to get the wine and some water for the table.

June read off the specials, and the woman asked for her advice.

"Well, madam, if you like fish, I'd recommend the pan-fried sea bass with lemon garlic herb sauce with crushed potatoes and greens."

"Oh that sounds delightful, let's go for it then."

One of June's talents was that she was good at working with customers. She had been happy to guide the woman. She sensed that something was amiss.

With only twenty covers in all, it was a quiet enough night for June to keep an eye on the petite woman. The latter kept looking at her phone, and eventually, with a huge sigh, put it into her bag.

"Would you care for dessert, Madam? How did you find the sea bass."

"Oh, that's kind of you. The sea bass was a great recommendation, I am in your debt for it. I think I shall perhaps just have a coffee if that is okay? Perhaps a cappuccino?"

"Of course, and would like one of our homemade shortbreads with that?"

"Oh that sounds delicious, yes, thank you."

June was impressed by her good manners. You got all sorts in the trade, and some customers appeared to think that buying a meal also bought them a servant. She thought it ironic that someone like this woman, who probably had servants, was the epitome of politeness.

June brought her the coffee and shortbread slice.

"You are brave," June said.

"Oh surely not, the shortbread is delicious."

June giggled.

"No, I meant having coffee at this time of the night, it would keep me awake. Glad though that you liked the shortbread."

With a sigh, the woman looked sadly at June.

"Well, I doubt I shall sleep much tonight, so I might as well put it down to the coffee."

"Oh," said June, her soft heart moved by the look on the woman's face and the sadness in her voice. "Has someone let you down?"

"Yes," said the woman, not for a moment bridling at the question. "I was supposed to be meeting someone at the Carlton, but they did not show. I thought I'd come here and drown my sorrows. I was rather hoping they might text."

"Men!" June said, her voice full of scorn, "can't trust them."

"Oh no," said the woman, "not a man, a woman."

"Oh!" June said, her interest piqued. "I am sorry to hear that."

"It's okay," said the woman, "it happens, just a bit too often for my comfort. I am gay you see."

June grinned.

"I kind of guessed that. I am too."

"Oh!" The Lady looked at June, "hence your remark about chaps?"

"Yes," June replied, had one once, never again. Look, if you are not hurrying off, why not stay for an after-dinner drink, that might help you sleep. I'm June, by the way."

"Oh thank you, June. I am usually called Pixie. If it would be no trouble, I'd like that. I have a room at the Carlton, but can't say I am in a hurry to get back to it."

"Okay, deal," June said, "let me get you the bill - and a complimentary grappa."

Pixie smiled.

"Thank you!"

It was June who felt she owed thanks to Pixie when she saw the tip. The restaurant left it to the discretion of the diner, but suggested ten percent; Pixie's tip amounted to twice that.

"That's kind of you," June said, as she sat down at the end of her shift.

"Not at all," Pixie replied, picking up the grappa June had brought. "You have made what should have been a wretched evening very pleasant. Your girlfriend is a lucky woman."

"My girlfriend!" June laughed, "what girlfriend. I haven't bothered since the last one let me down."

"Well, that's a dreadful waste, if I may say so." Pixie replied, the tone of her voice clearly meaning it.

"It's okay," June said. "I am a survivor. But what about you? Am I wrong to think you're sad?"

Pixie sighed.

"No, you're very perceptive."

"Goes with the job," June joked, "gets me the tips."

Pixie smiled.

"Oh I suspect it's just you."

"I'm just me," June said. That was indeed how she thought of herself - just June, nothing special.

Pixie smiled.

"Well I am glad I bumped into you, but I am probably keeping you, you probably need to get home."

"Oh," June said, dead pan, "want to get rid of me already. Got another date?"

Pixie missed the joke.

"Oh no, please don't think that, not at all, I just don't want to keep you."

"What if I wanted to keep you?" June jested, the words simply forming themselves as banter, but coming out spontaneously. The moment the words were out of her mouth, June wanted to kick herself. She wished she was better at flirting, surely Pixie would forgive her clumsiness.

To June's surprise, not to say amazement, Pixie once again had failed to pick up the jesting.

"Oh," she said, "well I suppose I'd have to stay."

June felt more words forming, and let them out, too, without thinking, trying to maintain the jesting, but wondering, definitely wondering.

"Only stay if you want to. I don't do charity."

Again, Pixie's failure to pick up what June thought of as her teasing tone, caused her to give a response which surprised June.

"What if I do want to?"

"Well then," said June, rather surprised by the turn of their conversation, "stay, though I am locking up soon."

"Can I help at all?"

June was even more amazed. This posh woman offering to help her? Surely it was just that posh girl politeness that meant nothing.

"Nah," she said, "it's not like you're dressed for it. I'll tidy up in the morning."

"I'd like to help," Pixie said, "but I guess you are right, I'm not exactly dressed for it."

Well, June thought, in for a penny and all that.

"If you really want to help, I do have an overall you could wear, they are just back from the dry cleaners, and though not quite your size, would do. But come on, admit it, I got you!"

"Got me?" Pixie sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yes, come on, a posh girl like you, helping me clean this place up? Not. Going. To. Happen!" June said, emphasising every word.

"Is. So!" Pixie said with a giggle.

"Is. Not!" June giggled back.

"Anything you can do, I can do better," Pixie quipped, "I can do anything better than you."

"No you can't," June joined in the singing.

"Yes, I can!" Pixie sang.

The two women had collapsed into giggles.

"Oh, okay," June gasped though her giggles. "Let me show you."

To June's amazement, Pixie clearly meant it.

She took her through to the staff quarters.

"Sorry it's a bit cramped, but you can put your dress over there, and this overall will help keep you clean - and decent."

"Thanks," said Pixie, "could you unzip me?"

June was, once more, surprised, but did so, revealing under the dress, a black demi-camisole, silk.

Pixie took her dress off. June admired the view from the back.

"And the cami?" June said, again, more by way of jest.

"Okay," Pixie said, "it will stop it getting messy."

June watched as that came off too, leaving Pixie standing in just tights and knickers. It was clear she was not wearing a bra. She handed her the overall, which Pixie donned and turned round.

"Ta da! How do I look?"

June could not help laughing.

"Cute," she said, "have you ever actually cleaned anything before, or do your servants do it?"

"Thanks," said Pixie, "I have, cleaned up before, that is."

And in practice, it turned out Pixie was helpful. She brought in the dishes for June to stack in the dishwasher, and when June came back out into the main body of the restaurant, she was even on her hands and knees sweeping some dirt into the dustpan. June liked the way her little ass wiggled as she cleaned. She suddenly felt something she had not felt for ages - horny.

Well, she thought, in for a penny, and if I get my face slapped, hey, so what?

She bent down and patted Pixie's ass, half expecting the petite woman to tell her where to go, but that was not what happened. Instead, Pixie wiggled a bit more, so June patted harder, which produced another wiggle. This, thought June, delivering another harder pat, could get interesting.