Max & Cheri

It wasn't long before, sitting up high during an active bout of '69' that Max commanded Cheri to, "Go all the way back! That's right. Right back to my asshole." Shuffling forward a bit to assist, she continued, "That's it! Hold your tongue right there—right up against my anus." Once Cheryl had seated her tongue, centred it in her rosebud, Max began instructing and encouraging her, until she got the hang of it—pointing and pushing, poking and prodding. Waggling her bottom against Cheri's face, she sighed, remarking, "That's what I'm talking about! I'm thinking from now on you'll be spending quite a bit of 'quality' time up my ass. Yesss!" And so she did, eventually, even getting Cheri to eat her ass after being fucked anally by her hubby just before he left for work.

Cheryl now thought she understood. She had given a lot of thought to the overwhelming delight she derived from her submissiveness. It wasn't just that it was like an addiction; it was an addiction—and she was becoming lost in it.

6 - Obey

Despite her initial innocence and her persistent ongoing aura of naïvety, Cheri was hardly surprised when, one morning, Max met her at the penthouse door wearing riveted leather panties that sported a large black phallus projecting forward at a jaunty angle. Considering the trajectory of their developing relationship, the appearance of a strap-on dildo seemed almost de rigueur. The thick black shaft ending in a sort of pointed bulge looked more like a rocket propelled grenade than a penis.

Cheri could hardly get the end in her mouth when Max ordered her to prepare it, but her ministrations were, nonetheless, transferred down to Max's tingling twat through the attached appendage that angled up into her vagina and the nubbly flap that pressed against her clit.

Pulling the truncheon out of Cheri's mouth, Max said, "Okay, let's really try this sucker out!" Directing Cheryl to lie back on the sitting room couch, she lined up the dark phallus with Cheri's snatch and, adding a smear of lube—the tube of which she just happened to have sitting ready on the end table—she began pushing. It took a moment for the bulbous end to stretch Cheri's vaginal opening, but, eventually, with a satisfying tactile 'whump' it slid on in, all the way, gliding in smoothly. Cheri felt the rigid intruder bump against the back wall of her channel just as the leather of the harness flattened her pubes. She felt exceedingly full, as Max held it in tight, still for the moment, staring into Cheri's eyes. A trace of a smile crossed her lips as she gradually withdrew, stopping with the faux-cockhead still within. Then, flexing her hips with a strong pelvic-tilt, she jammed her toy, back in deep. Picking up to an almost frenetic rhythm, she was soon pounding in and out of Cheryl's weeping, grasping cunt. The vibrations, radiating back through the shaft were stimulating Max's already aroused pussy to the point of impending climax. Growling like a mad-man, Max rushed to orgasm, and with a few more wild and random thrusts, collapsed onto Cheryl's heaving chest, leaving Cheri quaking at the knife's edge of cumming, but not quite there.

As Max rolled off, she levered the long rod out of her partner—her victim, leaving them both panting; Maxine in marvelous afterglow, and Cheryl in sexual frustration. "Well," Max puffed, "Wasn't that nice?" Cheryl nodded mutely. She'd been surprised at just how nice it had been. When she'd first seen the bobbing black tool, she'd been terrified that it would be way too big—big enough to cause injury; but she'd been, quite happily, mistaken. Max went on. "We were so close; too bad you couldn't keep up with me." She got up and began cleaning and removing the glistening appliance. "Maybe we can try again tomorrow." With that she dismissed Cheryl, who, toddled off home, resigned to finishing herself off alone.

The next time Max had the strap-on out, she directed Cheri onto her hands and knees, in the middle of the big Persian rug that lay between the couch and the television, in the sitting room. "Arch your back—down! Really tilt those hips. Push that bum up high—present your ass!" Smearing lube onto the dildo, Maxine kneeled between Cheryl's legs and lined up with her exposed pussy. "Doggy-style should get it in deeper. And it should caress your G-stop. Let's see how this works." The moment the phallic tip spread Cheri's labia, Max slammed the fake cock fully in, slapping the front of her thighs hard against Cheryl's buttocks. Cheryl gasped in surprise, as the abrupt entry knocked the wind out of her. Even with the shock of that first thrust, the subsequent pummeling rapidly became wonderful. Each in-stroke seemed to enflame Cheryl's entire core, while radiating the growing rapture back along its length, to ignite a glowing arousal within Maxine's fundament as well.

As Maxine gasped and grunted, "Oooh! Ahhh!" Cheri began a breathless chant. "So big! So full! So fine!" which morphed into a keening wail, "Aaayyyiiaaah!" as the humping, jolting pair, feeding off one another, raced into a humungous, and simultaneous orgasm!

Before their rasping breath had returned to normal, Max had withdrawn her prosthetic prick, and pulled Cheri, still perched on all fours, around to face her. "Here, dah-ling," she drawled, "clean it off, like a good girl. Taste your own pussy-juice." And she waited for Cheri to gobble up the glistening phallus. She didn't need to wait long.

As soon as Max had had enough, she pulled it free and wandered off to the kitchen, her now-cleaned dildo, bobbing freely from its leather harness, leading the way. "I'm having lemonade. Want some?" While they took a moment for refreshment, Max spoke conversationally. "The beauty of girl-on-girl sex," she began, sounding much more authoritative than she actually was, "or one of the benefits, in any case, is the relative ease of attaining multiple orgasms." Putting down her glass, and taking Cheri's, she lifted Cheri to her feet and led her around the sofa. "We've had a bit of recovery time. Let's put my hypothesis to the test."

Directing Cheri to lean over the back of the couch—"Hands on the cushions, tummy on the seatback!"—Max lubed up her strap-on once more, and smeared the extra up Cheri's butt crack, stopping for a moment to poke and swirl a little around her anus. With the same hand she aimed her weapon at Cheri's pulsing bullseye and, without any further warning, rammed it home; yet, despite the violence and discomfort of the initial attack, Cheri's rectum adapted admirably swiftly.

Both the women, fucker and fuckee, were amazed at how fast they came. The resistance of Cheri's gripping bottom, translated back through the shaft, ignited in Max a fast fuse, and before she'd completed a dozen thrusts into Cheryl's back-door, another orgasm detonated within her. Vibrating through the powerful climax, Max grabbed Cheri's trembling buttocks and held on tight.

As soon as the crisis had passed, she resumed thrusting, accelerating her assault, barking instructions at Cheri. "Push your butt back against me; squeeze those glutes; hang on to the shaft; don't let go!"

Cheri came—gasping, heaving, shuddering—her body snapping and twisting, as if in the throes of a seizure; her rectal muscles clamped tight, preventing the retreat of the black intruder; while her vaginal muscles clutched, in vain, her empty cunt. Until, at last, she went limp. Her legs turned to liquid as she slid off the back of the couch and slumped onto the floor, pulling Max—still tightly inserted—with her. They landed, a tangle of arms and legs, with Max draped over Cheri's back, holding her basically hanging.

Still embedded deep up Cheri's ass, Maxine, held firm to Cheryl's hips and toppled slowly onto her side on the carpet, pulling her conquest along with her. Easing her hips back, the smeared and soiled dildo gradually fell from Cheri's bottom, dropping to the floor with a final squish of her puckered rosebud. Drawing Cheryl into a tight spoon, she brought Cheri's head around to fix their lips in a long sensual kiss; and they stayed that way for an extended pause, each relishing the odd, intimacy they had just experienced.

"So," Max asked, rhetorically, after the long silence, "how'd we do?" She pulled back, and winked at Cheri, then added, "No, really. How'd that compare to hubby?" In the intervening instant of silence Max completely understood Cheri's blank expression. "Do you mean to tell me that in your how many years of marriage, you've never taken your dearly beloved up the poop-chute?!" Disentangling herself she stood, hoisting Cheryl up with her. "My God, woman. Where...? What...?" At a complete loss of words, she sat Cheri down on the sofa, and sat herself at right angles in the occasional chair. Leaning in with her elbows on her knees, she seemed unsure whether to lecture or reprimand.

7 - Bend

Max heaved a deep breath, and, placing a hand affectionately on Cheri's knee, she began. "You understand, this shortcoming needs our immediate attention!" Cheryl simply nodded, although she didn't really understand what the fuss was about. "Your assignment will be to take Jeffy up the butt—several times in this coming week. And when I say 'take', I mean, make him cum deep in your bowels. Got it?" Cheryl simply nodded again. "Now," Max began with details much like she were planning a party. "I assume strappy," she observed, stroking her latex penis, "is bigger than Jeffy's, so you won't have any trouble accommodating him. But you'll need lots of time—and lube—to start, so this can't be a morning quickie." She added, as an aside, "That'll come; not to worry." As Cheri left that afternoon, Max said, "Remember, I still want proof. Text me right away!" She didn't need to explain what she meant.

That very evening, after sucking her husband to the very edge, Cheri backed off and said coyly, while continuing to gently stroke Jeff's throbbing hard-on, "The other day I read on-line that many couples use anal sex to add variety to their love-making. The reason I mention it is because the article suggested the need for a rock-hard penis when trying it the first time." While surprised at his innocent wife's suggestion, Jeff agreed to try. Cheri thought, as, situated on elbows and knees, she dropped her back, raised her butt, and hissed her breath out through her teeth, Max had been right in predicting Jeff went in much more easily than the strap-on had.

Of course, Cheri had to feign pain and discomfort, and deliberate perseverance that first time. Jeff, bless his heart, had expressed concern about hurting her, but she had insisted they carry on. In the end—no pun intended—he really hadn't lasted long.

Excusing herself for a quick trip to the potty to clean up, Cheri palmed her phone. As soon as she had locked the door, she spread her legs, bent down and took a selfie-video clip of her oozing, dripping asshole—catching a drop with her finger, she panned up to record herself licking the coated fingertip, then smiled and waved. Before actually wiping herself off, Cheri, rather pleased with herself, sent off the obscene the clip to Max.

By the second time they did it, a couple days later, Cheri realized that being fucked up the bum was, most definitely, a true act of submission; and it was that, as much as the sensual, tactile aspect, that she thrilled to. It mattered not that the submission was to Max, who had demanded it, rather than Jeff, who simply enjoyed the novelty, while remaining blissfully unaware of the lurid fantasies her submission spawned in his horny little wife's head. Her modest orgasm, that time, was more situational than sensual.

Max seemed to have lost interest after the third time—she needed Cheri's submission to be more direct and hands-on; hence, Max was, in Cheri's mind, disappointingly blasé when Cheri did eventually go to morning coffee with an oozing rosebud. Notwithstanding, anal became, almost nonchalantly, a part of Cheri's marital sex-catalogue.

While the strap-on wasn't put to use all that frequently, it did become a familiar part of their collection of Sapphic love accoutrements and repertoire. Just like '69'—or what Max referred to as soixante-neuf—which was a bit of a misnomer; for really, Cheri had realized, it was just face-sitting!

For her part, during the occasional, private, reflective moment, Max considered that she may, indeed, be bi-sexual. Notwithstanding, all of this with Cheri was much more about domination than lesbianism. Anyway, she rationalized, it was Cheri, more than she, who showed lesbian leanings—then again, maybe she was just doing what she was told. Yes, and maybe all this was really just about Max recognizing and exploiting Cheri's previously unrealized submissiveness.

8 - Expose

In any case, to commemorate this realization—or, perhaps more precisely, her own rationalization—Max proposed going out on a 'shopping excursions'. "Go get some clothes on. I'll be down to get you in a few minutes."

Answering the rap at her door, Cheri was surprised at the rather tarty, almost adolescent get-up Max was wearing. But it was Max who stepped back and surveyed Cheri, up and down, before exclaiming "Oh, come on, girl!" Voicing her despair, she complained, "I can't take you out dressed like that." Bustling Cheri back inside, she pointed out, "You're a sexual animal, now. Let's get you at least looking the part." To start with they ditched the bra and swapped her bikini panties for the skimpiest of thongs. When they were done, as they left the apartment, Cheri caught a glimpse of herself in in the mirror. If Max looked like a tart, Cheri, herself, looked like a twenty-dollar hooker! Quietly mentioning this, as they pulled into a mall, Max just laughed and said, "Good! That's what I was aiming for."

"What are we here for? Are we looking for something in particular?" asked Cheri, feeling very self-conscious.

"Attention."

And they got plenty of that, as they meandered from shop to shop. At one particularly teeny-bopper-ish clothing store, Max presented Cheri with a very stretchy, tight, thin, almost certainly too-small tee-shirt that had "YOLO" emblazoned on the front. She insisted, Cheri try it on. Once Cheri had pulled it over her head, Max tugged at the neckline, stretching it to display maximum cleavage, then, ostensibly to smooth out the clingy material, Max ran her hands over Cheri's bosom, taking an extra few swirls over Cheri's nipples before exiting the fitting room, making her high-beams stand proudly in clear relief.

After paying an exorbitant price for the obviously cheap garment, as they merged back into the flow of the mall, Cheryl finally asked, "Why? Why YOLO?"

"It is, I believe, rather fitting," Max suggested. "Sort of representative of our evolving relationship." She paused, before adding, "It stands for, 'You only live once.'" The unspoken part of that was, '...so, you might as well go for it.'

So, the girls, in their odd sort of master / slave relationship, began to go out on 'shopping excursions,' if not regularly, then frequently. "Think of them as 'field-trips'," Max explained. "All part of your training." While it had never actually been voiced that way before, they both knew that's what it was—training, or nurturing. On each trip, they would purchase some piece of especially trampy or whorish clothing, to wear on a subsequent prowl. And Max punctuated each trip with surreptitious—or, sometimes, not-so-subtle—gropes, and whispered promises, filling Cheri's attentions with secret arousals. She made it her business to ensure Cheryl's tits were always on high beam, and checked whenever she could to keep Cheryl's pussy blushing and damp.

Max delighted in Cheri's humiliation; perversely so did Cheri. Early in the game, while trying on a pair of teeny, tiny jean cut-offs, hotpants with such a narrow crotch that her teeny bikini panties showed. Max announced, "These have to go!" And with that, she tore and shredded them, with the help of her nail file, ripping them off, and leaving the tattered remains right there on the change room floor.

Of course, as always, Max controlled Cheri's complete attire on prowls—suggestions had become edicts. For a while, it was, "Stick with G-strings—thongs. They work best with short, short skirts and flouncy braless sundresses. But, after just a few outings, she decided, "Let's dispense with underwear, altogether. It either shows or shows through. I mean, think about it: even Yoga pants should not show panty-lines. Anyway, it makes for better access; easier to check on the flow of your feminine nectar. And you can, more surreptitiously, clean off your inner thighs, as necessary, with fingers or tissues, or even your skirt itself. After all, we wouldn't want you chafing down there."

Max was always, it seemed to Cheri, upping the ante—adding outrage after outrage. For example, just before one excursion, Max fitted Cheri with remote-controlled vibrating Ben-Wa balls, to wear as they cruised the mall. Without underwear, Cheri had to consciously clench her vaginal muscles to hold the balls in—practicing her Kagel exercises, as it were. This, of course, required that she stay focused on her genitals; hence deriving a more keen arousal in reaction to the stimulation of the random periods of vibration. Cheri'd often have to grit her teeth in order to stave off a rising orgasm; nevertheless, from time to time, she was overcome by an inexorable climax, and had only limited success coping with the attendant 'seizure', in public. At those times, Max would just stand back and watch, appreciating Cheryl's efforts to disguise her orgasm and relishing her mortification.

Always looking for something more, Max began escalating Cheri's public exhibitionism. She'd not only 'inadvertently' pull on Cheri's top to maximize her cleavage and briefly expose an areola, or a nipple, but would 'accidentally-on-purpose flip up Cheryl's skirt, flashing her ass or pussy. She would time her attacks, the frontal flashes, to moments when Cheri had her hands full, so would be unable to cover herself immediately, and there was a good crowd of potential observers. Max was ever-delighted with Cheri's embarrassment as much as the viewers' responses.

"If you're going to be exposed from time to time,' Max suggested, one morning before taking off on an outing, "you should make your beaver somewhat more presentable." Cheryl looked puzzled as Mav beckoned her into the bathroom. Plopping Cheryl down onto the toilet seat, Max flipped up her skirt and soaked Cheryl's bush with a warm wet cloth. "We shoulda done this ages ago," she murmured, and started whistling tunelessly, as she spread shaving foam over Cheri's twat. Then, brandishing her razor with a bit of fanfare, she set to shaving Cheri's nether region with deliberate and authoritative strokes, exchanging the razor for a small pair of scissors from time to time, until, pleased with her results, she rinsed the whole area and held a mirror for Cheryl to see.

Cheri was surprised, but not displeased. She was smooth and bare except for a precise rectangle of cropped bush, directly above her clitoris. "A landing strip!" Max declared. "Not bad, eh? Even if I do say so myself." Looking up at Cheri, she mused, "Might even have to do something similar myself." Turning away to finish rinsing the razor and cloth, she said, casually, "You can just tell Jeff the same old story. I showed you a magazine article, and talked you into trying it."

Another day, Max idly diddled Cheryl's clit, while she tried to put on her bright red lipstick, causing her pussy-lips to puff and spread slightly. As soon as Cheri finished, Max took the tube and carefully applied it to Cheri's labia. "I wonder if anyone will notice that they match - uppers and lowers."

And, during all this, Cheryl was still having morning sex with her husband. Jeff, two or three times during the working week—some adventurous, some serene. Regardless of the intensity, she was required to report each and every such incident to Max, describing the event in precise detail. Often enough, her report was filtered through Max's bush, as she cleaned up the evidence of Max's morning romp. Still, what really surprised Cheryl was, despite the abundance, one might even say excess, of sexual 'exercise' she got during the week, her weekend sex with Jeff was great, and getting better. As Jeff had recently observed, sometimes they made love, and sometimes they just fucked, but it was always wonderful.