The Sun in Her Sky Ch. 01

"Turn around – let's see the back."

She spun around. The panties clung to her ass; her buttocks were tight and toned and practically begged to be squeezed...or spanked.

"Well?" she asked, sounding genuinely eager for my approval.

"Yep, those look alright. How about these?" I handed her a white, lacy boyshort panties, cut high in the back.

She stripped off the panties she was wearing and handed them back to me, then put on the boyshorts and, without being asked, turned a slow circle to display them from every angle. It was all I could do not to reach out and caress her tight ass, perfectly framed by the high-cut lace. My heart was racing and I could feel my temperature rising. Her nudity, her obedience, her desire to please me – she was pressing all my buttons. Patience. Patience.

"Yeah, they're okay, too. Really nice."

She smiled at the approval in my voice and stripped them off – she was quickly losing her shyness in front of me. I gave her a way-too-skimpy indigo G-string thong. I'd been brave enough to buy it, but never brave enough to wear something so risque. It had lived in the back of my drawer for more than a year.

When she saw what it was there was a moment of hesitation but she overcame it quickly and bent to slip it on. I loved the way her tiny tits jiggled and quivered whenever she bent or straightened; it was impossible to keep my eyes off those stiff, fat nipples.

The G-string thong was the perfect storm of sexiness – it was tight enough in front to reveal almost every detail of her shaved pussy, while the g-string back left her entire bottom uncovered, her rounded cheeks split by a tight, thin strip of fabric. The darkness of the fabric contrasted strikingly with the pale whiteness of her skin.

Becca turned a circle and I had to stifle an appreciative groan. This was it. This was the underwear that MY girl was going to wear. And she would wear it exclusively for my pleasure.

"Oh, Becca," I said in an awestruck, hushed tone. "That looks beyond amazing on you. It never looked right on me, but it's like it was made for your body type. How does it feel?"

Becca smiled and flushed, clearly pleased by the unexpected compliment, possibly the first one I'd ever given her. "Um...well, it's a little...different. It's kind of...uh..."

"You wouldn't believe how much I paid for it," I continued, playing it up. "It's easily the most expensive thing I own. It kills me that I can't wear it."

"Really? I mean...I do like the colour. Do you think maybe it's a little...um..."

"I want you to have it. If you'll wear it, that is."

"Oh, wow...really?"

"Consider it a belated Christmas gift," I said, flashing her a rare smile. Then I put on a guarded tone. "Unless you think it's not good enough..." I let the sentiment hang in the air.

"No! I mean, thank you! It's really amazing. I love it!" She sounded genuinely thrilled.

"Really? You'll wear it?"

"Oh, yes, definitely. It's really...comfortable. Really form-fitting. Easy to move in," she gushed, slowly talking herself into it. "And no panty lines, so I can wear it with a skirt or Yoga pants."

I clapped my hands and smiled warmly at her. "That makes me really happy."

Becca was almost glowing. Her smile was mixed gratitude and delight. Any trace of shyness was gone.

"So, that's panties. I guess we'll see about tops next," I said, no-nonsense once again. "Obviously, my bras are way too big for you..."

"Wait...don't I need more than three panties?"

I narrowed my eyes. "I just gave you my best pair of panties, plus two others. That's not enough?" A hard edge crept into my voice.

"Well, I mean...I love them. Really love them, but..."

"I see how this is going to go. Whatever I give you isn't going to be good enough!"

"No, no. That's not it at all. They're so good. Totally good enough..."

"You know I'm not rich. But I'm here giving you my best stuff because I'm trying to help, and all I'm getting are complaints," I snapped.

Becca's eyes were pained, desperate and anxious as my mood went suddenly cold. She was so easy to read. So easy to manipulate. She'd be so easy to train...

"No, really, thank you! These are perfect. I only need three. I'm really grateful for these three. The ones you picked for me are really incredible. I can hand-wash them after I wear them. And this one! I love your Christmas gift. I'll wear it all the time. I can't wait to wear it..."

Nervousness was making her ramble. I'd never seen anyone backpedal so fast or so far. She was in such obvious distress that I started to feel a little bad for her, and decided to let her off the hook.

I sighed loudly. "Okay, as long as you're sure. Maybe I was being over-sensitive."

She shook her head emphatically. "No, no. You're not. I was just...my words didn't come out the way I wanted, that's all. I'm really sorry."

I nodded in acceptance. "Okay, shall we look at some tops for you?"

"That would be amazing!" Her agreement could not have been more enthusiastic.

And when Becca carried my bag to school the next morning, she was wearing the thong under a knee-length skirt that I'd 'generously' lent her. Her small breasts were unrestrained under a silk camisole and white blouse, the outline of those fat nipples clearly visible whenever she removed her too-warm-for-class fleece sweater. She blushed when the girls teased her about her 'pokies', but when I told her how incredible she looked in my skirt and blouse, it kept a smile on her face for most of the day.

*

In all the time we'd known each other, Becca had mostly seen 'Distant Gwen', the classmate who was at best tolerant and at worst dismissive of her. Over the next week, Becca came to know 'Kind Gwen' and 'Angry Gwen'.

Kind Gwen gave out warm smiles, encouragement and compliments. When Kind Gwen was around, Becca was happier than I'd ever seen her – excited, enthusiastic, even gleeful. Her eyes would light up and her joyful smile would brighten the room. Becca adored Kind Gwen and seemed to bask in her presence.

But Angry Gwen could appear at a moment's notice, summoned by a careless word, an inattentive moment, an act of disobedience or even hesitation. Angry Gwen was cold, caustic, accusatory, and scathing. She plunged Becca into a state of wide-eyed anxiety, distress and extreme discomfort. When Angry Gwen appeared, Becca would say and do anything to placate her and bring back Kind Gwen or even Distant Gwen. Angry Gwen was Becca's own custom-made nightmare.

At school, Becca got Distant Gwen with very brief flashes of Kind Gwen. At home, especially when we were alone, Kind Gwen and Angry Gwen would each make appearances, keeping Becca off-balance, attentive, suggestible and submissive.

I had to be careful not to overuse Angry Gwen – I didn't want to chase Becca away or make her withdraw from me emotionally. Nor did I want Angry Gwen to become so commonplace that Becca acclimatized to her and rendered her less effective. I didn't want to push Becca too far too fast and make her rebellious. I didn't want to become predictable to the point where Becca thought she could manipulate me and assert control. It was a delicate balance; more art than science. But I was a fast learner and very motivated to master the subject.

And in just that first week, my progress was better than I could have predicted. Becca was coming along nicely.

She'd lost her shyness around me, and when we were in my room she had no reservations about dressing or undressing in front of me. Sometimes I'd ask her to undress, then have her try on my old clothes, and we spent an entire Sunday afternoon with her either naked or semi-naked, trying on an article of clothing, displaying her body from every angle, then stripping in preparation for the next item. Becca thrived on the rare compliments Kind Gwen would bestow.

It became standard practice for me to pick Becca's wardrobe every morning before school. I didn't give her the chance to make her own choices – even before she climbed down from her top bunk I would say "Hey, I think you'd look great in this today," or "I can't wait to see you in this." The one time she dared to question my selection, Angry Gwen stormed in and bitterly chastised Becca for her 'ingratitude' and Becca quickly surrendered, apologizing all the while.

And so Becca stopped wearing bras; thin camisoles became the rule, and the outline of her prominent nipples through shirts and blouses became a regular part of her 'new look'. Track pants were a thing of the past, replaced by knee-length skirts – the shortest allowed by the school dress code. And underneath that, sexy panties chosen by me.

I came to enjoy the sight of Becca's pink blush as her provocative new style was discussed, critiqued and often mocked by the other girls. Once or twice Kind Gwen stepped in and came to her defense, or whispered words of encouragement afterwards. It didn't erase the humiliation Becca felt, but counter-balanced it a little. The important thing was, humiliating or not, Becca was learning to obey.

While I was happy with the progress I'd made the first week, it required a ton of willpower not to touch her or do anything blatantly sexual. I was still unsure how to approach that realm, and didn't want any missteps so early in the project. When my lust hit the breaking point I'd bring myself off in the shower, my fingers drawing out one or even two satisfying climaxes as I bit my lip to stifle ecstatic groans. But my arousal quickly returned, refusing to lay dormant for long.

I decided to move the physical aspect of our relationship forward during the second week, and after a great deal of thought I put things in motion.

Friday afternoon we returned from school to an empty house. While Becca washed and dried the breakfast dishes, I took a hot shower, then wrapped myself loosely in a bathrobe and sat on my bottom bunk. I let the robe fall open, partially exposing my breasts, stomach and just a hint of brown pubic hair. I wanted it to look like 'casual nudity', not something premeditated.

"Hey Becca, come here a sec," I called. I could hear her stop what she was doing and climb the stairs to my room.

"What's up?" she said as she entered. When she saw me on the bed, she froze. Her eyes reflected confusion at first, but I saw them linger for a few moments on my exposed skin. I didn't know if she was attracted to girls – I hadn't even known my own desires until the day of the spanking – but the look in her eyes told me she was interested at the very least.

"My feet are just killing me. Any chance I could hit you up for a massage?" I lifted one foot for emphasis.

She smiled. "I guess you're still breaking in those new shoes."

"I think you're right."

She walked over and sat cross-legged in front of me.

"You'll get the skirt dirty if you sit on the floor with it," I said, making it sound offhand.

"Oh, right." She stood up, then hesitated, uncertainty showing on her face. Over the last several days, she'd become reluctant to make even simple decisions when we were alone, perhaps fearful of Angry Gwen's disapproval.

"I guess just put it on the bed," I suggested.

"Okay." She quickly unzipped and removed her skirt. It was 'thong day' and I was treated to the delicious sight of the tiny swatch of indigo fabric clinging to her puffy pussy lips.

She resumed her cross-legged position at my feet, then took my right foot in her hand and started gently rubbing and squeezing the sole. I could see her sneak a quick glance at the juncture of my thighs, which were almost at eye level for her.

"That feels amazing," I said. And honestly, it did.

"I'm so glad. I'm happy to help."

I let her work for a few minutes, then gave a big sigh and rolled my shoulders as if to alleviate stiffness, which caused the robe to 'accidentally' part further. My entire left breast was exposed, and sure enough Becca took a moment to survey the new territory. The look in her eyes was definitely more than casual interest. I pretended not to notice.

"You're pretty good at this. Ever done it before?" I asked.

She shook her head. "You're the first."

"Sorry for the trouble."

"Oh, no. Any time. I'm happy to do it."

After five minutes or so she started work on my left foot. I groaned, closed my eyes and leaned back onto my elbows, 'inadvertently' parting my legs and causing the robe to fall open almost all the way. There were a few moments of silence as Becca got an eyeful of my fully-exposed pussy. I opened my eyes and saw her staring at it intently, then sat up and closed my robe in a show of self-consciousness.

"I'm sorry about that...I didn't realize," I said.

She blushed, realizing she'd been caught looking. "It's okay."

"You must think that's SO gross! I'm really sorry."

"No! No...not at all," she said, more earnestly than perhaps she'd wanted.

There was a silent pause.

"No?" I repeated, raising one eyebrow.

Becca's blush went a deeper red. "I mean...we're both girls, right? It's natural...nothing gross about it."

I left another long pause.

"Do you...want to see it some more?" I tried to sound embarrassed by the question. It was a calculated risk. If she said 'no', I'd have to go back to square one and re-think my entire approach.

Her eyes widened and she looked up at me. I could already read the answer written there. I fought to suppress a grin.

"I..." she started, but her voice was suddenly hoarse and she had to clear her throat and try again. "If...if you want."

"Is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?" I prompted.

"Yes." her voice was a whisper.

I let her admission hang in the air for a few seconds.

"Yes?"

She nodded, still flushed red.

I slowly stood and planted my feet on either side of her knees, then parted my robe, putting my naked sex a few inches in front of her nose. I looked down at her and waited.

For a few seconds she just stared at it, eyes intense and hungry, completely focused on the sight before her. My arousal was immense and I'm sure she could smell it. I wondered if she'd recognize the scent for what it was.

She started to raise her fingers, then hesitated and looked up into my eyes. The sight of her sitting at my feet, looking up at me from between my legs caused a surge of power and lust to course through me.

"Can...can I...touch you?"

"Is that what you want?"

She swallowed, then nodded.

"Okay. Gently."

She nodded again, then her fingertips touched my labia, ever so tenderly. She stroked the outer lips and the friction spiked my arousal to new heights.

"Do you like it?" I asked quietly, careful not to break whatever spell she was under.

She could only nod, eyes locked onto my sex. Her fingers didn't stop their gentle caress. I let her explore for a few moments more. I realized an orgasm was close...and she had barely touched me! I fought it, unwilling to climax too soon.

"Is it beautiful?"

Another nod. She was in a trance. I wondered if she was as wet as I was. Would she leave a damp spot on my floor? I desperately hoped so.

"Kiss it."

She didn't hesitate, leaning forward and planting a slow kiss on my mound. My orgasm wouldn't be denied much longer. I gritted my teeth and tried to hold it off.

"Lower," I breathed, pushing my hips forward.

When her hot lips pressed against my labia, I lost it and came HARD. Harder than ever before. It felt like ten orgasms all slamming into me at the same time. Like the supernova of orgasms. My muscles locked and my core gripped hard and I couldn't breathe. Pleasure unlike anything before it rippled through me again and again. I started to see dark spots in front of my eyes. Finally I had to step back.

Becca looked up at me, her eyes unfocused and full of surprise and wonder. Her face was soaked, glistening with the remnants of my hard come. She was panting. This was how it was supposed to be. This was what I wanted. And it would only get better from here. I was only getting started.

I managed to recover my power of speech after a few breathless minutes.

"Stand up," I said, my voice thick with lust.

Becca stood, eyeing me expectantly. Sure enough, I noted a telltale dark spot on the carpet where she'd been sitting.

I met her heated gaze, then winked.

"Ankles," I said.

"W-what?"

I leaned in close. Her face smelled like my pussy. "Grab your ankles, Becca," I whispered.

She hesitated, suddenly fearful of a repeat of her earlier brutal spanking. But my smile seemed to reassure her, and before long she was bent double, hands clasped on her ankles.

I stepped back, loving how her ass looked, framed by the dark material of the G-string. The crotch of the thong was soaked through with her juices. I could smell her, and suddenly my own arousal was revived.

I raised my hand, then spanked her. Not hard like last time, barely more than a love tap. I waited.

"One, miss Bailey," she said. She'd remembered! Such a good girl.

I spanked her again, softly, just enough to let her know she was being spanked. To let her know that I was spanking her, and for no reason other than it amused me at the time.

"Oh, two, miss Bailey." Her voice was a sigh.

I gave her ten and she counted off each one, and by the final stroke her skin was unblemished, so gentle had I been. My fingers went between her legs and stroked her through the sopping thong. She gasped, but didn't break position.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Really good. So good..."

I continued to tease her sex. "Do you like grabbing your ankles for me?"

"Ohhh yesss."

I slid the thong to the side and slipped my fingers through her soaking lips. In no time I found her swollen clit and started teasing it with feather strokes.

"You've been a good girl this week. Time for a treat?"

Her only response was a deep, guttural moan. She was dripping. Literally dripping! I couldn't help a delighted chuckle.

"Say 'please'," I said, the tease in my voice obvious.

"Please," she gasped.

I decided right then it would always be this way for her. Freshly spanked, bent over, offering up her sex for me to enjoy at my leisure. All her orgasms would come while grabbing her ankles. A tribute and a reminder of that time in my kitchen, all those weeks ago. Even the thought of it tickled me to the core.

My fingers rubbed her clit more urgently, pulling louder and more needful groans from deep inside her. And then her climax hit and sweet-smelling juices leaked over my hand and pooled in my cupped palm. Her legs gave out and she collapsed to her knees at my feet, gasping and twitching.

Yes, my girl was coming along nicely.

*

Part of me – a very small part – wishes I could end the story there. A high-school wager, a spanking, some sapphic love...that should be more than enough, right? A story of youthful experimentation, or maybe a coming-of-age tale with a happy or bittersweet ending?

But it didn't end there. This was only the beginning.

I quickly realized I didn't want Becca as a friend, a lover, a teen romance or even a sex slave. I wanted her to be ALL MINE. I wanted to be the sun in her sky. I wanted to dominate her thoughts and dreams. I wanted her to live for ME and me alone – I craved ALL of her attention and focus. I'd had the merest taste of her, but I was determined to take it all.

I'd made a good start, in just a few weeks. She was living under my roof, dependent upon my generosity. I chose her clothes. I determined if and when she could speak. I had asserted myself over her body, spanking her, touching her and having her touch me. Her emotions were fully under my control – I could make her joyous, fearful, anxious, relaxed, grateful, horny, humiliated or distressed on a whim. I felt I had all the ingredients to make my ambitious dream a reality. The trick was in knowing how to combine them.

After I'd come all over Becca's face and masturbated her to an orgasm, it changed her. She drew closer to me, opened herself more. Whereas before I had been a classmate and would-be friend, now I was - from her perspective – a lover. And different standards applied between lovers. Intimate touching was not just accepted, but expected. Sexual exploration was permitted. Perhaps even a certain possessiveness or sense of ownership. I'd gained another inroad into her psyche, and one that I planned to exploit to the fullest.