Tales from the Bar 03

This is a follow-up from the previous story in my "Tales from the Bar" series. It would help if you read the others first.

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Hi, my name's Patricia but people usually call me Trish. You might remember me from the story that Maz told of her 'fun night' with that young tart Naomi. At the time, she asked me to write about what happened to me, but I really didn't want to. I felt that what had happened between me and Sandra was too private and intimate. It was only after I read her version that I felt I had to. I needed to redress the balance.

Everybody goes on and on about how lovely and sweet and kind Sandra is, which she is but not in the way most people see her. She offers up a façade to the outside world, let me tell you. For sure, she came over as friendly that first night when we met her at the restaurant. To be fair, I spent most of the time talking to Naomi. She was more my age and we were on the same wavelength. When we left, it seemed that Maz had already agreed to go back to their home for a nightcap, and I just sort of went along with it. Although I'd only known Naomi for a couple of hours we were getting along fine, and we walked back to where she lived hand in hand. I could hear the two oldies talking behind us, but they were too quiet for me to work out what was being said. Little did I know that they were plotting about us.

When we got back Naomi was sent off to fetch a bottle of wine and Sandra sat Maz on the sofa with her and I was left standing like a dummy. I was quite grateful when Sandra finally noticed me, but I felt a bit awkward when she made me sit between then. It was a bit of a tight squeeze and I was conscious of both their bodies squidged up against mine.

When Naomi came back she handed round the drinks and sat on the arm of the sofa next to Sandra who made some remark about how pretty she was. I knew that it wasn't directed at me, so I kept silent but watched as Sandra's hand stroked the length of Naomi's thigh and made small forays under the hem of her skirt. It seemed almost as if she was marking her territory but, apart from that, I paid her little or no attention. Her eyes were fixed on me and I began to feel slightly awkward especially when she told Maz that she thought I was pretty as well. I took a large gulp of wine to cover my embarrassment and that was when things started going weird.

Apparently Naomi had a dance and Sandra wanted to show her off. At first she seemed reluctant but eventually stood up and went over and hunted through their collection of CDs. The dance, when it started, wasn't directed at all three of us but was clearly aimed at Maz. I've never actually been to see a striptease show but the music and the dance were exactly how I imagined things happened. I've been to a few all girl parties in my time and it was the sort of music that would prompt some very explicit 'dirty dancing'. I'm sure you know what I mean.

Anyway, that is what Naomi proceeded to do directly in front of Maz. My jaw dropped as I could hardly believe it was happening. I expected, at any moment, that Maz would say something, maybe even make an excuse and leave, but she seemed hypnotised by the gyrating girl standing far too close to her. Even I couldn't take my eyes off her and when I felt a hand on my thigh I couldn't move.

By now Naomi was topless and was playing with her breasts and nipples in a blatant invitation to Maz. Sandra put her mouth close to my ear.

"She's very sexy isn't she," she whispered.

I couldn't speak but managed a nod of agreement. When Naomi suddenly pushed Maz's legs apart my own legs were pushed even harder into Sandra's. Her hand on my thigh made wider sweeps along my leg and began to creep under my skirt. Part of me wanted Maz to take charge and announce that we were leaving but my body was already reacting to the exploring hand.

As Naomi's skirt fell to the floor, I felt the first touch on the front of my panties. It was gentle and soft at first but slowly it travelled the length of my silk covered pussy. A tremor went through me and I felt the juices begin to flow. I'm sure the probing fingers could detect that as well and I knew I had gone past the point where I could easily leave. As the stroking speeded up I abandoned myself to my greedy urges.

Meanwhile, Naomi had turned her back on Maz and bent over. Her panties had come off and her legs were spread as she offered her pussy and arse to Maz.

"I think we should leave them to it," came another whisper, "come with me."

Her hand came out from under my skirt as she quietly stood up. She took my hand and gently pulled me to my feet and led me from the room. It is only after having read Maz's story that I found out what went on after we left. I don't blame either of them. I'd have done exactly the same if the dance had been for me. It seemed as soon as we left the room all that stopped being part of reality. I allowed myself to be led upstairs by a woman who, in reality, was old enough to be my mother. She opened a door and stood to one side to allow me to enter. It was obviously her bedroom. It was a spacious room with a large bed as the dominant piece of furniture.

I heard the door click shut and then two hands on my shoulders spun me round and she kissed me hard on the lips, before pushing me away with such force that I staggered a few paces until the edge of the bed caught the backs of my knees and I fell onto my back on the bed.

"Well, what are you and I going to do while your girlfriend is distracted?" she asked in a slightly mocking voice.

She came over and sat beside me, gazing down where I lay unmoving. I felt a curious but intoxicating mixture of fear and excitement. My heart was racing, and I could feel my pussy twitching. It jumped even more when her hand went back under my skirt and touched me there again. This time it wasn't a gentle caress but a forceful push that insinuated the silky fabric of my panties deep between my pussy lips. Then the pressure was gone.

"I've already explored down there. I love that your cunt is so readily wet for me," she was gloating as she licked her fingers. "But what else has my little tart got for me to play with?"

She reached over and grabbed my boob roughly in one hand and squeezed. I yelped and she squeezed even harder. She swung one leg over me and ended up sat on top of me, trapping my arms with her knees. I knew that any chance of escape was gone but suddenly I had no urge to do so. Now both hands were on my boobs, squeezing them, pinching the nipples through the thin blouse. I tried to squirm, but one hand came free and I was slapped across the cheek.

"Stop wriggling, you little tart," she told me and there was something in the tone of her voice that made me do as I was told.

She looked into my eyes and held my gaze as she slowly unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it apart. As usual I wasn't wearing a bra and she seized my nipples between thumbs and fingers and pinched them hard. I screwed my eyes shut and clamped my mouth closed, trying not to utter a sound but when her finger nails joined in my mouth opened and a groan of pleasure escaped. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed pain as part of sex and quite how much I'd missed it over the past few months.

Eventually the pinching made way for several hard slaps. Left, right, left, right. The first few from side to side and then from top to bottom. My trapped hands yearned to reach up and protect my tender breasts, but I was helpless. Finally, she stopped and sat back to admire her work. I opened my eyes and looked down. My boobs were red and the skin tingled, but my nipples were like little rock-hard pebbles and stood proudly pointing up to her.

"Well done, little tart," she said, and I revelled in her praise, "Now, let's have a good look at the rest of you."

With that she rolled off me and stood up. I took the opportunity to use my hands to deliver some much-needed TLC to my boobs. One by one she picked up my feet and took off my shoes and tossed them into a corner. She suddenly heaved on the second foot and rolled me over onto my front. I felt her scrabbling at the zipper of my skirt before that was tugged down and off. She pulled my blouse down my arms and that too was flung to some distant corner of her room, before I was rolled onto my back once again.

Even though I knew it might antagonise her I made a vain attempt to cover my pussy with my hands, but they were quickly slapped aside.

"Hands behind your head, bitch, and keep them there."

Instinctively I obeyed her. She had a presence, a charisma that denied the possibility of disobeying her.

"I see the little tart's cunt has already been leaking," she mocked me, and I blushed until my cheeks were the same red as my boobs. "Lift your legs up."

Obediently I raise my legs until they were vertical, and I felt my panties being pulled over my arse and up my legs. As I let them fall back to the floor I tried to close them but a fierce slap on the inside of each thigh prompted me to spread them for her. I watched as she held my panties to her nose and inhaled deeply. A smile came onto her face as she stepped to one side and opened a drawer in the dressing table and dropped them in. I said a mental farewell to my best and prettiest pair of deep red panties. They were also Maz's favourites and I knew she'd miss them too. Sandra came and sat next to me on the bed and I looked up at her wondering about her intentions. I didn't have long to wait.

"Give me one of your hands," she demanded and held out one of her own to receive it.

I disentangled my fingers and pulled my right hand from behind my head. She grabbed it and pushed it between my legs.

"Fuck yourself," she demanded, her voice curt, "show me what you do when you're alone."

So, very conscious of her eyes on me, I started to stroke myself. My arousal had started downstairs with the erotic dance and had built even more since I had been brought upstairs. My pussy was so wet my fingers slipped and slithered back and forth until I landed upon my hyper-sensitive clit. I could sense my orgasm approaching with an almost indecent and eager haste. I left my thumb to minister to my clit and pushed three fingers as deep as I could go into the warm velvety centre of my being. Suddenly my wrist was grabbed, and my hand was pulled roughly aside, and she delivered a hard smack on my sensitive pussy. My reaction was to yelp, partly in surprise and partly at the sudden pain, and my legs automatically closed together. I was rewarded for this action with two more smacks on my thighs.

"Open them, bitch," she hissed at me.

Reluctantly I did as she told me and another smack, harder than the first, took my breath away. I managed to resist the urge to close my legs again only to receive a third blow. It was softer than the first two, hopefully as a reward for my obedience. Then she pushed my hand back onto my pussy.

"Again, little bitch," she told me, and I started to masturbate again. My orgasm that had slouched away like a naughty school-child now turned around and began to return. My desperate fingers worked in and out of me and I silently prayed that I would be allowed to cum.

For a second time my hand was snatched away, and three hard smacks came down upon my defenceless pussy. It took all my willpower to keep my legs open and I could feel the tears of pain and frustration welling up in my eyes. She made me go through the same routine twice more until I was a gibbering wreck. I was a total mess; my hand and my thighs were covered in my juices and I could feel the tears streaking across my face. After the fourth time, when my pussy was on fire from her treatment she went to replace my hand but stopped and allowed it to hover just out of reach.

"Do you want to cum, little tart?" she asked in a voice that had the illusion of kindliness.

"P-p-please," I managed to mutter between sobs.

"Then ask nicely."

"Please may I cum," I said in my most wheedling voice.

She raised an eyebrow and looked down at me disdainfully. "Please may I cum ... who?" she asked.

For a moment I was puzzled but then latched onto the hidden meaning.

"Please may I cum, Miss?"

"Good girl," and she let go of my wrist and let my hand drop onto my pussy.

I was surprised but also terrified that she might change her mind. I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and thrust my fingers back inside. I started to push in and out and my orgasm seemed to know that this was the time. It wasn't just my pussy that came but every part of me seemed to explode at the same time. It was all too intense, and I think I fainted.

I was brought back to life by a cold liquid being poured over my face. I woke, spluttering, and blinked my eyes. She was kneeling astride me holding out a tilted glass of water that she was slowly trickling over me. She stopped when I showed renewed signs of life. While I was out she had stripped down to her underwear which consisted of a black leather corset and long black boots. Instead of panties she wore a strap-on with a scarily large black dildo pointing straight at me. She gave me a light smack on the side, scarcely more than a tap compared to her others.

"Roll over and get onto your knees," and, despite my hazy state, I scrambled to comply. I managed to get onto my knees and my head was pushed roughly down onto the bed covers so that my bottom was high in the air. Several hard and very loud smacks were aimed at my helpless bottom and each one sent a new tremor through my pussy. Then, without ceremony, she aimed the dildo at my pussy. I was still oozing moisture and I felt it begin to slide inside me with no difficulty. It entered me and kept going until I was filled. It waited for a second or two and then pulled back, almost all the way. Then began the slow ritual as it went in and out at a steady pace. I could feel a second orgasm beginning to build.

I hoped that this time it would be allowed, and I closed my eyes and started to relax into the feeling. I opened my eyes again in alarm when I felt something pushing at my arse-hole. I've done many things in my short life, but my arse has been penetrated very few times. But the feel of the dildo sliding in and out distracted me enough that I relaxed and let whatever it was push past the tight sphincter and nestle inside me. The effect it had was to speed up my approaching orgasm. Somehow Sandra seemed to sense it and the thrusts of the dildo became quicker and the object, whatever it was, started to fuck my arse. When I came it was like a dam bursting. For the first time in my life I squirted! I don't think either of us were expecting it but as she pulled the dildo from me my juices continued to flow from me and drip onto the bed. She collapsed sideways and looked into my face with a smile. The last thing to go was the object in my arse which turned out to be her thumb.

"You messy little bitch," she said but there was a lightness and humour in her voice, "you've not only got me covered but the bed as well. And yourself but that's your problem not mine."

I flopped over onto my side and gave her a wan smile. "I'm sorry," I pleaded.

"I'm going to get cleaned up. Get the bed stripped and I'll bring some fresh linen so you can re-make it."

With that she pushed herself upright and walked into a second room which I guessed was her bathroom. I lay quietly for a while listening to the sounds of running water. I could barely move but I was buoyed up by the memory of two monster cums the like of which I'd never had before. Eventually I rolled onto my back and sat up. I looked down at my boobs which were still red and very sensitive especially the nipples. My pussy felt sore and badly used and was still leaking very slightly. I forced myself to stand and started to strip the bed. Every movement was an effort, but I forced myself to do it. I'd just finished when she came back in.

She'd changed into a pair of boxers and a baggy t-shirt, her usual night-time attire I guessed, and she carried an armful of bed linen which she held out to me. I took them from her and, as she sat in the chair at the dressing table watching me, I slowly and painfully made the bed. I was slow and it seemed to take forever but finally I turned to face her.

"Do you think I could have a shower please, Miss," I asked her in my best little girl pleading voice, proud that I had remembered to add the 'Miss' at the end. Instead of answering she simply crooked her finger at me and beckoned me over to her. I stood at a place that she had pointed to, directly in front of her. She looked me up and down. She reached up with both hands and gripped my nipples and squeezed them gently, almost lovingly.

"How are these pretty tits, little tart?" she asked me and gave them another, slightly harder, pinch. I grimaced as the pain returned briefly.

"A little sore, Miss," I confessed.

She let go of my nipples and turned her gaze downward. "And what about this messy cunt?"

"It's also sore, Miss, but happy," I said trying to make light of the dull throbbing and the sticky mess that was all down both thighs and had spread across my mons.

She reached to one side, opened a drawer and pulled out my pair of bright red panties. At her command I spread my feet apart and, with one hand on the small of my back, she proceeded to wipe my pussy and down my legs. And she wasn't very gentle either, pushing the panties between my bruised lips to soak up any spare juice she could. I was still quite sore down there and I made little pain noises but stopped when she told me off and not to be such a baby. I was then told to turn around and bend over and she wiped between the cheeks of my arse. When I was allowed to straighten up and turn back around she had my panties held to her nose and her eyes were closed. She jerked back to reality and dropped them back into the drawer and closed it.

"That should help the aroma linger for a nice long time don't you think? Now, to bed with you, you can shower in the morning. You can sleep on the other side."

With that, it seemed I was dismissed. I climbed into the far side of the bed and pulled the crisp, fresh duvet up to my chin. I still felt sticky despite her attempts to wipe me clean and I hoped I wouldn't mess up the clean sheets. She climbed in next to me and immediately turned out the light. In the darkness she rolled onto her side facing away from me. A short time later I heard a slight snuffling snore and I was left in the dark with my own turbulent thoughts.

In the morning I was finally permitted to take a shower but was told to come down to the kitchen wearing just a towel around my waist. Most of the rest you know although I refused to give Maz any details of my night with Sandra. We met up with her and Naomi a couple of times for drinks, but we never went back to their place again. Not that I would have minded but Maz seemed to be against it. It was on one of these nights out, when another couple of women also joined us, that we found the infamous back room of the pub and we started to meet there regularly.

Not long after this Maz and I split up and although we both still went to the Thursday meetings she had some new girl on her arm, and I went alone. At one of these Sandra cornered me in the ladies and started probing me about Maz and I. I explained the situation and it ended up with her inviting me round for dinner. Apparently she and Naomi had gone their separate ways as well. The upshot of it all is that I am now with Sandra. I moved in officially a couple of weeks back. And, before you ask, one of my main reasons for accepting was what happened on that night. Understandably it caused a bit of a stir and some tongues to wag on a Thursday night but that only lasted a couple of weeks before it became yesterday's news.