Sunday Brunch

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She serves at brunch.
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We invited Alice and Barb over for Sunday brunch. It has been the 4th of July weekend since we had seen Alice, and here it is the end of Summer. The idea was that we have brunch, lie around, use the hot tub, just hang with some friends.

So I stayed at WileChile's Saturday night, as did Petra. Petra said she wanted to make crepes; I have a tasty recipe for scrambled eggs, peppers, and cheese.

Sunday morning I wake first and lie tangled with them in the drowsy, half-awake state I love. Too soon, Petra sniffs, raises her head, and gives me a sleepy smile. We then turn on WileChile, since she is still asleep; we and attack her. A wrestling match follows and I get bounced out of bed 'cause I'm the smallest.

After a shower with WC, I decide to wear a silk slip she got me and a three-quarter kimono robe over it. Petra wears yoga pants and a sheer tank top, and WC a long gown with a see-thru lace bodice. The last time I went to Lois to get waxed, I got a black chain that hangs between black nipple rings with a small enameled bell, in the shape of a heart, hanging from the chain. WC borrowed it and it's very striking against her pale skin.

We did all the shopping Saturday, so the kitchen is well stocked with pastries, croissants, quiche, eggs, fruit, champagne, all the ingredients for a brunch. WC puts NPR on the stereo, I pour a mimosa, and we all get to work. Alice and Barb will be here in an hour or so, and we need to get everything started.

"Do you like the eggs?" I ask, as I drop off more croissants.

"If you would stop and try them you'd know they're killer" Alice teases.

I've been so busy dealing with everything I've haven't even sat down yet, so I lean down, put my elbows on the table, and open up for a bite of eggs. As Alice is putting the eggs on the fork, WileChile puts a hand on the back on my knee and slips it slowly, casually up the back of my leg, under my slip, and two fingers slide into me.

"Ohh!" I shiver while Alice is putting a forkful of eggs in my mouth. Another finger, or maybe her thumb, flicks my barbell and I jump! I turn to look over my shoulder at WC and she calmly takes a bite of pastry. Although Alice was present when I was pierced and she is a close friend, nothing was said about me wearing my collar, or being a sex toy.

Barb looks at me strangely, and then looks to Alice. Like a flash of lightning, embarrassment heats my face to fluorescent orange, and I hear huge drums pounding in a blood rhythm. I drop my head and stare at the tile on the table top. WC begins to move her fingers into me in a slow, insistent rhythm and says, "Have another bite of eggs." If I open my mouth I will moan and beg for more, so I clench my teeth and squirm silently as WileChile pushes into me.

I look at Alice, but with a stricken, guilty look. Like it is somehow my fault I am stretched across the table with someone's fingers in me. A corner of Alice's mouth moves up slightly in a grin and her eyebrows rise as if she is in on the joke. WileChile pushes deeper into me and my hips shiver in response. Barb looks at me, her eyes widen and she looks down into her lap.

The drums get louder, my face goes nuclear, and I try to focus on the fork. WC says, "Don't worry, she likes it; in fact, stand up CJ."

I'm still trying to parse all this when WC smacks me loudly on the ass and I jerk up. I straighten up and WC slips the robe off my shoulders. As I look at Barb, she is looking in her lap, and I am mute with embarrassment.

My mind fractures into small pieces. One part marvels that I am not wearing my collar or chains, another part wonders what will happen next, another part wants someone to fill me up and make me scream. My nipples are so hard they hurt; the barbells feel pencil-thick, and I desperately want someone's cool fingers on them.

WC sits down and says, "Have some crepes. Petra made blueberry crepes, your favorite."

I look at WC; she has a bite of crepe on her fork, but I will have to put my elbows on the table again to reach it. It is inevitable I will bend over for WC; she will use me and handle me while Alice and Barb watch. I am their slave.

Before I bend to the table again, I pull my slip off over my head. I put my elbows on the table and look at Alice; she puts a buttered croissant to my lips and I surrender to them. My face, my chest, my whole body seems aflame with embarrassment as Barb watches me eat from Alice's hand. I surrender, lower my head, and only look at the tiles on the tabletop.

WileChile says, "Have some quiche." as she slips fingers into me again. My hips shudder and I take a long breath.

So I let them feed me while WC fingers me and makes me jerk and moan. I've forgotten about Barb and what she thinks. I only know I want their hands on me. Alice comes around the table and begins to caress me.

My face is flaming and I dare not look up as I say, "Slap my ass, please. Slap my ass."

I feel cool hands running from my hips up to my shoulders while I push against the fingers at my clit. I try to push myself onto them, but they elude me and pull the bead in my hood. Ohhhh! I close my eyes to concentrate on the rhythm, to concentrate on feeling the hands on me, on my ass, moving inside me, plucking at my barbell. Shudders from deep inside me begin to work their way out though my hips. I am in a blind place where only the hands touching me and circling my barbell are real.

Petra says, "She's always this way. We love her!" My hips are moving up and down following the fingers in me, and I groan in frustration because I can't get them deep enough inside me. Petra puts a hand on my shoulder to say, "Open your eyes, Barb is asking you something. Open your eyes."

When I open my eyes I see only the tiles on the table top. I raise my head and Barb is looking at me expectantly. For a moment I am still far away, in that wordless place where there is no me, nothing to say, and no thought. Barb says something, but the words elude me. Her meaning though, is written large in the tension around her mouth, in the frown lines around her eyes, in the tone in her voice. Anxiety or fear screams from her like something wounded.

"Are you alright?" she says again. This time I put words to her feelings and my face burns again. I look into her face, not two feet from mine, and see she is turning red too.

"Yes; I'm OK. I like it." I mumble. Barb is looking in her lap again and her face is burning like mine. I shift to one elbow and reach for her hand. She looks up as I bring it to my lips.

Looking in her eyes, I say, "Kiss me." and stretch towards her. Her lips are light and dry and only brush mine. I close my eyes and stretch towards her, searching blind for her lips again. Her lips meet my cheek first and my face turns toward her.

"You know, you don't have to kiss across the table; you could use the sofa." WC says gently. Her fingers slip out of me and immediately I want more, but she slaps my ass and the crack seems to make Barb flinch. I stand up and move around the table to Barb.

Petra and Alice come out of the hallway, heading for the hot tub. Alice has on a robe, but Petra is wearing nothing; with her head shaved, she looks very young and vulnerable. "Take good care of my girl." Alice grins and winks.

I can still feel fear/anxiety/tension flowing off Barb, so I say, "Come sit on the sheepskin with me."

WC says, "I'll leave you two alone." and goes out to the hot tub.

I flip the switch to turn on the gas fireplace, and then sprawl on one side of the sofa. My mind is fractured into hundreds of pieces, I want to go back to the nameless place and only feel hands and mouths on me. I want to stop the painful waves pouring off Barb. I want to be the submissive slave and not think, just have someone tell me what to do. I want to undress Barb and show her how good skin feels on skin. I don't know what to do, so I just look up at Barb standing over me.

"Did it hurt? I mean, did it hurt to have your nipples pierced like that."

I pat the sheepskin/sofa and say, "Sit down; I'll tell you about it." She sits on the other side of the sofa, fully dressed, and waits nervously. "Petra did them and she's very good, so it didn't hurt anymore than a shot." I say gently. "It was over the 4th of July weekend; Alice was there. We took a trip to Hood Canal for the weekend and there was a small group around the camp fire."

"You mean she did it in public?" she asked.

"They are my friends." I reply. "I wanted to share it with them. I wanted to serve them, to give them pleasure. Would you touch them? It doesn't hurt; it feels good, really."

Finally the fear seems to be going out of her face and she slides over to me and then very gently puts a finger on one barbell.

"Doesn't hurt a bit. A little harder please; I like it!" I say as I look into her eyes and smile. She grasps the barbell with two fingers and pulls slightly. "Mmmm!" I sigh. I want her. I want her to take me to the blind place. I don't want her to scream anymore.

"But don't Petra and WileChile get jealous of you with other women?" She asks with a look I can't describe.

"They want me to be happy. They want me to be free. They don't want me to be afraid." I say simply. "Does Alice get jealous of you and other people?" I ask.

"I don't know; I've only known her about a month or so." She says hesitantly.

Alice is one of the "City girls"; I've never seen her jealous. It finally hits me! Barb is afraid of what might happen if she "loses control" That was me not long ago! I thought as long as I was with WileChile nothing could happen to me. I could be in control and watch people at the WetSpot, or at parties, and not have it touch me. A subtle shift occurs in my perception and I can see how her posture on the sofa, the layers of clothes she wears, the hesitant way she speaks, all show her as tied up, penned in, bound in invisible chains of propriety and convention.

I place her hand on my breast. "I am their submissive; they take me and use me; I please them however they want. I want to please you." Embarrassment starts to up climb her cheeks and she ducks her head. I put a hand under her chin and raise her face to mine. I kiss her lips slowly, carefully, savoring them like a fine dessert. She puts a hand to my face, fingers rigid, and leans towards me.

I hear the drums start their blood rhythm again and I pull her down to me. "Kiss me. Bite me gently, please." She moves down to my nipples and takes one in her mouth. "Ohhh!" Her tongue moves around my barbell and it sends lightning signals to my clit; I squirm against her. She leaves a line of kisses across my breasts to the other nipple. Her breathe is warm and close and I shiver against her.

What do I do now? I want Petra to tell me what to do. I want to be the naked slave girl and not worry about what this girl wants or thinks. Why has everyone left; why am I alone here and she's completely dressed? My worrying is interrupted as she closes her teeth gently on my nipple, just below the barbell.

A small moan slips past my lips and she jerks her head up, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - "

"No, no, I'm not hurt." I hurry to say. "Here, let me help you off with your sweater; I'll show you." We untangle and sit up, and I help her off with her cotton sweater. She pulls a cammy over her head, and I unhook her basic white bra. I see the fear begin to slip back into her face, so I wrap my arms around her and take tiny bites of her neck, and then slide my tongue into her ear. She laughs and shivers and the fear is broken.

"Let me get the champagne; be right back." While I am getting the champagne, she stands up and slips out of her jeans. I hug her to me tightly; she is smooth and white and warm.

"Could we go to the bedroom, this is so out in the open." she asks hesitantly.

"Sure, the bed is always better, more comfy." I put a hand on her hip as we walk down the hall to the bedroom.

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GrrrreatImaginationGrrrreatImaginationalmost 10 years ago
Mmmm... wait!

Why did you stop? The writing was good enough, the dialogue was real, the characters were interesting (people I'd like to count as friends), and the story-telling was wonderful.

You've started a wonderful story, here. I hope you will add to it soon.

Whatever you choose to do about this story, please keep writing. Story-telling is a gift.

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