Silk & Shadows Ch. 01

I submitted Chapter two and Chapter one at the same time, so if you like this, check my published works for Chapter two! Also, Rachel (and Ezra) who appear here are from my story "The Summer Submission", and you can read Ch01 published here/through my published works.

I've been dreaming of a character named Layla/Leila almost since I started writing...and finally Layla has shown up. Maybe I'll think this everytime I write a story, but I absolutely adore Layla and Sarah and they're my favorites right now.

This story is a very soft, romantic, loving D/s relationship between two women. It's an ode to the female body, and a bit to San Francisco too. They explicitly discuss consent, and safety is a priority. Trigger warnings: there's control, degradation/humiliation.. There's a lot of sexy banter and build up before...

Chapter one

I know a lot of people would say dating apps are terrible, or at least a terribly unromantic way to meet. They were probably my best bet. My hobby, painting, was too solitary for me to meet people. I was too quiet for ladies night dances and the bar scene. Those sorts of things ended up with me standing near a wall, feeling awkward as hell. Like my dad, I'm an introverted computer scientist. My dad left Iran after the revolution with his new bride, my mom, to get his PhD in the bay area. I was born over a decade after they married, and was their only child. For a while, they tried introducing me to nice boys whose families they were friends with. About a year ago, I finally told them I wasn't interested in men or the traditional life they had envisioned for me. I couldn't marry one of those dudes - imagine being married to someone who wasn't attracted to you sexually - and I knew it was wrong to give them all false hope. My parents didn't say much, but I could hear the reproach and slight sadness when they told me about so-and-so upcoming wedding, or that some friends or family were new grandparents. I talked to them less and less over the last several months, and it made me feel resentful and unrooted. Our relationship hadn't recovered after I told them, and I had the feeling it would never be the same again. I'm very much my dad's daughter. Both of us are quietly determined, unyielding in our morality, and neither of us is likely to soften.

Like many people, I turned to dating apps when I felt alone. Through one of them, I met a woman who changed my life. Rachel had a boyfriend, but she also wanted to date a woman. Her boyfriend, Ezra, was cool with this. I'm not normally into the poly thing, but hey, I needed to break my dry spell and she was cute. It sizzled, then fizzled. Oh, those weeks with her were so much fun. It was almost as if she was new to sex, and her giddy exuberance and eagerness were infectious. I had been falling for her a little, until the night we ended up at her place. She cuffed me to her bed, and, oh, she did some really fun things to me. At the end of the night, it struck me that her boyfriend was outside, and she would go back to him while I went home alone. When I left that night, I didn't make eye contact with either of them, and ducked out as quietly and quickly as I could. I realized her unavailability and my aloneness would make it too easy for me to catch feelings. I was definitely not cut out for free love or its modern cousin, polyamory. So the next day, I broke it off, and that worked out for the best because we became close friends.

One night, we grabbed Thai food and she leaned in excitedly to say "Layla, there's someone Ezra wants to introduce you to. She's a little older, like forty. Is that okay?" Yes, it's spelled Layla and not Leila because my parents thought that would be easier for Americans because Eric Clapton.

Anyway. That means she's a bit over ten years older than me. Hm. "Hm, I think so. Why does he want us to meet?"

"She's into women too. She's sexually...I think she'd be a good match. And she's pretty, smart, and just a good person. You're both sort of the deep, thoughtful type. The age gap would be my only worry in introducing you."

"Does she have a name?"

"Oh," Rachel laughed. "Right. It's Sarah"

"How do you know about the sexually part?" My first thought was that I didn't want my ex-lover's leavings. I know that's not a great way to view things, but something about the thought of having sex with someone an ex lover of mine had sex was uncomfortable for me. It was already weird enough that my ex-lover wanted to introduce me to someone. In my mind, I sighed. I didn't have that sort of easiness about sex, because sex wasn't light or play. It's one of the most vulnerable things for most of us, really, so intimate, with so many emotions, dredging up childhood shit, and with all those concerns about psychological, physical, and sexual safety.

"Oh, um, you know, I guess that's something she and Ezra have in common. Though I don't think she's as, um, you know, into the exact same things. She mentioned to him that she wanted a lady who was into it and it was hard to find. Ezra mentioned it to me, and I thought of you."

I sighed out loud this time. Her boyfriend knows something about what I'm into sexually. I should have known. Something about them made me think of a closed circle, they were that close. Was he one of those straight dudes who liked fantasizing about his girlfriend having sex with another woman? Which would be fine if I wasn't that other woman. Ugh, why did it really matter to me what he thought or if he got off on the thought of his girlfriend and me having sex? It wasn't about me. So again, I thought I shouldn't care, but I did care and it bothered me. Don't fuck cute woman with a boyfriend again. I was a serious relationship only type of woman. I was too anxious for casual hookups. And right now, I was making myself anxious over something that wasn't in my control. "Alright, sure, you can give her my number."

Two days later, Sarah texted me. After making small talk for a bit, she said she wasn't entirely comfortable that I was eleven years younger than her. She said Ezra and Rachel had been so enthusiastic about us meeting that she decided to give it a shot. Sarah said still wanted to recognize that there was an age gap. She didn't want to take advantage of my youth or inexperience, and so she promised me she'd be cautious and keep that in mind during our interactions. She also hadn't been in a relationship for four years. That made me frown, because, as you may have noticed, I'm pretty sensitive. I felt wary that maybe she was being critical - maybe she thought I was immature or incapable - because I was younger than her. But I gave her the benefit of the doubt...maybe this was a good thing, since it showed she had morals and was thoughtful and...and as usual, I was overthinking.

So heart thumping, I deliberately relaxed. She seemed thoughtful. I thought I'd be a little flirtatious. Is that the only reason? Isn't the thought of taking control of a younger woman hot?

And here I thought you were a sweet thing and I was feeling bad for having thoughts of besmirching your innocence. Yes, it's pretty hot, little girl.

Whoa. I liked her response so much that I could feel the heat creep through my body. I may be quiet, but I'm not at all shy about getting what I want. If you're really lucky, maybe you'll get to find out if I have any innocence left for you to...corrupt.

That makes me think you don't have much. Maybe I could have fun with you.

I really liked it when you called me little girl. But I'm not the kind of girl who just wants to have fun. But I know how to have fun...and I always make sure my ladies have fun too ;)

Well then, naughty girl, you should put the brakes on your flirting and not tempt me into too much too soon.

What will happen to me if I don't 😈

Let's just say I have a few ways of making bad girls behave. If you're really lucky, maybe you'll find out.

Oh, I liked that. I liked that so much that I could feel the heat bloom between my legs. Slow down, I told myself, you haven't even met and you don't know if there will be any chemistry in real life. You don't know a damn thing about her. But the wetness between my legs screamed at me to keep going.

I feel like being a bad girl right now.

Do you? What do you do when you're bad?

Sometimes, when I'm very bad, I play with a very special toy.

What type of toy? Are you touching yourself between your legs? Is it...slippery?

It's a big, buzzy magical wand. It makes me see stars sometimes. Do you want to know if it's slippery?

Yes, I want to know if I'm making you wet. Take off your clothes, but keep your panties on.

I took off my warm pajamas. Okay, they're off. I feel cold.

What do your panties look like?

They're black, lace.

Are they wet?

Yes. They're soaked.

You're a very naughty little girl for getting your panties wet. And a very bold girl for flirting and teasing me. No, I don't want you to touch yourself, and bad girls don't get to play with their special toys.

I whimpered at my phone in surprise and frustration.

Okay. Good night. See you in two days?

Yes. Are you going to be a good girl and do as I told you?

Of course. Should I sleep undressed like this?

Yes. Sexy dreams, little girl.

Hm, that little exchange was so hot. Cold and horny as fuck, I snuggled into my bed, hand between my knees, and fell asleep. I don't know exactly when I woke up, but it was still dark. I felt so fucking aroused, was wet and aching with it, and I longed to ask her if I could touch myself. I whined and whimpered, tossing and turning until I fell back into light sleep. I woke up too early the next morning. I wanted her to tell me it was okay to touch myself. I hadn't even met her yet and I wanted to give her my orgasms. That sounded...fun.

Please, could I touch myself?

You don't have to ask.

I want to ask.

You've got some fight in you. I like that. ;)

Should I use my fingers or my toy?

You're aching to give up control, aren't you?

Yes.

Do you need to get off so you can focus on work? Are you a needy little girl?

Yes, please. Yes, I am.

Go rub your clit with your fingers. I'll see you tomorrow.

My phone didn't ping again, so I laid down and opened my legs. I didn't even know who she was yet, but I knew some things. I have this theory that you can sort of sense kinkiness, or kinky compatibility through small things. The way she responded to my flirtatious text, with a straight up sexual one through which she took charge of the interaction and I followed her lead showed me that. I knew she was thoughtful and had a moral compass, and those things made me feel safe to continue flirting. There was something about her concerns that felt really authentic. But I could feel her loneliness, and it somehow felt like mine.

So my horniness, it wasn't just a bodily sexual rush. No, the rush of sensuality coupled with the feeling of safety...the way that aroused me started somewhere deep in my mind and tingled through what felt like every nerve in my body. She had so many qualities that I craved. Her clever, quick banter got me wet. The speed, ease, and confidence with which she took control was so fucking hot. I wanted to hear her voice when she called me little girl.

I imagined her telling me to open my legs wider, watching me getting wetter for her, my clit swelling with arousal. Are you a filthy, needy little girl? Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress, may I come? I imagined her laughing at me, gently pinching my nipples while I gasped and soaked my fingers. Open yourself wider for me, show me how badly you need it. Such a greedy little pussy. Cum for me, little girl. And I moaned and gasped, and penetrated myself with two fingers. I could feel the pulsing pleasure tingling through my body...so close. Mistress, could I please taste you? Please, I want it so bad. Please...And I gasped again, hand clamped over my mouth to muffle the frantic cries of pleasure at the thought of begging her to please, please, please let me lick her pussy. I laid back, fingers still soaked, and god, I wanted her pussy so bad. You haven't even met her, all you did was exchange a couple of texts, slow the fuck down, I told myself, stop obsessing.

Fuck it. I didn't want to slow down. The next day, I kept up the recklessness when choosing an outfit. I wore the only short skirt I owned, high stockings, boots...hmm, a high necked shirt, and my favorite beat up leather jacket. The skirt though...I couldn't even bend over in the thing. I fluffed my thick wavy black hair, broke out some eyeliner to accent my green eyes. They were definitely my best feature, especially because my hair was so dark and my skin was sort of light brown.

I thought I'd be clever and get to the coffee shop early...but she was already there. Thick chin length hair, hazel-brown eyes, shoulders broader than mine, and several inches taller than me. None of that mattered. What mattered was the way she looked at me, calm, clear-eyed, a slight smile...somehow as if she saw right through my attempt to get there so I could have watched her walk in and scope her out. I could feel her strength in her level gaze, and I wanted to kneel at her feet in respect and humility.

But we were in a coffee shop and I'd just met her. I sat down next to her as if I was still sane.

"Decaf? It's too late in the day for anything else, and if we're going to be sitting here, I want to give them some business. And if you're okay with it, I'd like to buy that coffee for you." Yeah, like I said, thoughtful. And smooth as silk.

"Yes, that sounds good." Damnit, why couldn't I say something clever?

"Your order?"

"Um, a decaf cappuccino. Thank you so much."

"Of course, Layla. Now, go grab that little table so no one takes it."

I didn't even think twice as I moved to obey. When she came back, we started chatting. First, as is common with queer ladies, our coming out stories. I'd always known, ever since I'd felt the first flush of sexuality. She grew up lower middle class and was the first person in her family to go to college. That explained something about why she had control and self-discipline. Then, Sarah had almost gotten engaged in her mid-twenties, but couldn't go through with it as it dawned on her why she didn't really want to sleep with her then-boyfriend. We talked about childhood and families. Her family responded as coolly as mine. Both were accepting, but not quite supportive. She was more masc than I was...I'd say she was androgynous. Maybe she was non-binary. She said she didn't feel particularly feminine or masculine, just sort of in the middle. She also felt like she was a woman, and she said she was old enough to be comfortable the way she was. I was straight up femme, even if I worked in a male-dominated industry and even though I didn't wear short skirts normally.

"Oh, and you decided to wear one today?"

I nodded.

"Alright, Layla. Would you be comfortable uncrossing your legs? Only if you're comfortable."

I suddenly felt like air had left the room. "Yes," pushing my knees slightly apart. I felt her foot against mine, then the other one, kicking my feet apart a little wider. I helplessly, thoughtlessly parted my lips, my breath coming a little faster, watching her watching me. Anyone could see us, anyone could see up my skirt if they really tried...

My skin tingled as she leaned in closer. "How does that feel?"

"It, I, oh...."

"You're enjoying it, I think? But are you comfortable with that?"

"Yes, I am, M-Sarah."

"Some part of me wishes I had a fork to drop right now, but I -"

I leaned in even closer. Her eyes were beautiful. Clear, almost hazel. "If you did, I'd open my legs a little more and maybe you'd see how wet you're making my panties."

She was absent-mindedly rubbing her lower lip with her finger. "Layla, would you like to go for a walk? They're closing soon anyway."

"Yes," Half of my coffee had grown cold because I'd forgotten it.

"Layla," she said when we were outside. "Rachel and Ezra told me about - you and Rachel. So I know. I'm sorry."

"Why? I ended it."

"I'm sorry I know. I'm glad they told me when they told me about you, but I also want to respect your privacy. I don't know anything sexual, just that Rachel said you had some submissive tendencies. They go beyond tendencies in our interactions. Rachel said you broke it off because you didn't want to get hurt. And I'm attracted to you - god, you're gorgeous, with that hair and those eyes - but you're young. I don't want to rush and hurt you."

"I'm glad you know. Yeah, I broke it off after three weeks because I didn't want to get attached and feel hurt, since she's with Ezra. Sounds like you're pretty close to them?"

"Yes, I'm part of their small circle."

I nodded. "I'm new to the circle. I'm a sub. I guess, you know I'm a sub, I'm Iranian-American - or Persian, because of the stigma in the US, and because of some pride in the ancient civilization. I'm a lesbian. I'm nerdy and over eighty percent of the people in my field are men. I paint in my spare time. And I think I'm a bit isolated because of all of that, and I don't know, I don't open up that often to people. So with Rachel, I never fully submitted. It was like, sure, there was some light D/s play. It's weird, because we had sex, but I feel like I've submitted to you. It feels like I've done more with you."

"I get the feeling that you want to submit to me very badly. My read on you is that, like a lot of subs, you tend toward anxiety and overthinking. Being controlled soothes some of that anxiety. Some anxious folks get wrapped up in their heads with anxiety. You though, you're the type that became more thoughtful and kinder to others because you think so much." I stared up at her, wondering how she knew. She paused. "Would you like a hug?"

I didn't answer in words, instead moving into her warm embrace. I pushed up against her, feeling my chest flatten into her...

"You're a very naughty little girl." Oh my god, I could have melted there and then.

"I feel like being a very bad girl."

"Yeah? Would you like it if I found us a dark place and put my hand up that slutty little skirt?"

"Yes, please." I moved back toward her, not caring if anyone saw me.

"Soon, but not now, and not tonight. I want to get to know you better, and I don't want to until I know this isn't going to end with hurt feelings. "

"We can never know that," I scoffed.

"Ah, youth. You're not afraid of a broken heart. I'd rather we get to a point where we both know we're serious about one another before I make you submit. Though," she looked amused, "seems like I don't have to make you do anything."

I scowled. "I hope I never get to the point where I'm afraid to fall in love. You're saying to take it slow, but you're speeding along just as fast as I am. You're controlling me in making me wait. It makes me want to kneel at your feet and beg to please you."

She laughed. "And you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," I whimpered.

"Me too."

"How did you know about my overthinking?"

"I picked up on it when you were telling me about your parents, and how you didn't want to give them false hope and how you didn't want the families of the men they were talking to have false hope either. I think it's wonderful that you think so much about others, and it makes me feel protective toward you. A lot of people care about others, but you think deeply about them, which means you care more. Which makes you vulnerable."

"You're thoughtful too. And you have a moral compass of your own."

"Yes." She spoke with so much self-awareness and confidence, not even bothering to ask me how I knew. "I don't want to hurt others. Nor do I want to take advantage of them for my personal benefit, even when they're practically throwing themselves at me and you keep escalating because you want them too. Especially not when they're as sweet and lovely as you."