With Grace - A Tale of Submission Vol. 03

Chapter 8...breakfast...

The moment Grace opened her eyes the next morning, the images poured in. She wasn't prepared for that torrent of memories, and they seemed to bypass her conscious mind and flow through body. They seemed to have their own life, their own energy, their own will, and as they coursed through her body, they whispered softly to each one of her nerves, singing them the sweetest song, luring them from their slumber. With a certain detachment, she observed her body's response, as though her consciousness was perched on a tree branch, watching a surging river engulfing its banks.

As had happened the night before, the reaction was the most intense in her breasts and between her legs. A tingling sensation emanated forth from each of her nipples, but with an intensity that actually caused her to instinctively look down at them to see if, as had happened the night before, Karen's expertly placed fingers were applying pressure to them. The space between her thighs-studiously ignored for so many years-bloomed with the most delicate warmth.

Though her mind was still not grasping the depth of what was transpiring within her, the feeling was one of awakening, as though a connection had been ignited between a portion of her being and a dimension of reality that had been previously hidden from her, or that she'd previously shunned. The pearl that had remained tucked within her pink folds felt like it was awakening, casting off the two warm blankets and bathing in the sweet wetness that now surrounded it.

As her mind struggled to process what she was feeling, she heard Karen call out to her: "Sweetie, breakfast is ready. We'd love for you to join us."

"Umm, sure, okay, I'll be right down," she responded, as a panic quickly set in.

Seeing Karen after what had happened last night was bound to be an anxiety producing experience, but seeing her in this condition, and with Marcus present as well? The thought of it caused a feeling of vague nausea to permeate her being. But she also worried that hiding out in her room all day would only arouse even greater suspicion. So with a deep breath, she pulled on a shirt and some shorts and headed for the kitchen.

"Oh my darling." Karen's face lit up when Grace entered the room. "You've been asleep for hours. We were starting to get worried about you."

Grace tried to suppress the blushing that she knew was coming, but perhaps predictably, she could not.

"I, ummm, I think I was just really tired," she stammered.

She quickly plopped down into a love seat located between the kitchen and the living room, trying to locate herself as far as possible from Karen and Marcus without seeming evasive, and tried to direct the conversation away from herself.

"So, last night was fun. It's a really nice group of friends you guys have." Grace offered.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Marcus said, "They absolutely adore you. And they thought it was so sweet that you fell asleep on the couch with Karen holding you last night."

"I did? Really?"

"Oh angel, I loved it. The feeling of your breath rising and falling, of your body twitching as you dreamed."

"What? I was actually doing that?" Grace exclaimed, "Oh my god. I am so mortified."

"Oh Grace," Marcus chimed in, "Please don't feel that way. Karen was so flattered that you were comfortable enough to let yourself go and fall asleep against her like that."

Grace could not think of anything to say, and she felt besieged by her own awkwardness. She couldn't tell if Karen and Marcus were oblivious to it, or if they just enjoyed it, but either way, they did nothing to intercede. At long last, Karen looked up from the eggs she was scrambling.

"Sweetie, how are you feeling after last night?"

"Ummm, what do you mean?"

"Dear, there are no secrets between Marcus and me. I loved sharing with him how beautiful it was to bring you to your first orgasm."

Her words hung in the air, and Grace felt frozen, unable to move or speak.

Sensing the young girl's inner turmoil, Marcus interceded: "Grace, I understand why you'd feel uncomfortable hearing Karen talk about such a sensitive topic. But it's very important for you to be able to discuss everything you're thinking and feeling with us. We both appreciate how hard it was for you growing up, how you felt like there was no one in your family who could talk to about what was going on inside of you. Keeping these sorts of feelings buried inside of you, and worse, allowing a sense of shame to build up around them, well, it's unhealthy for so many reasons. But even more than that, achieving deep sexual release, as Karen helped you experience last night, is one of the great joys of being human, of being alive."

"Ummm, thank you, Marcus. I appreciate that."

"Marcus is right, sweetie. What you felt last night, when your pussy exploded for me, when the waves of your orgasm reached from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, it's a miracle, and it's important to both me and Marcus that you do your best to start seeing it in that way."

Grace heard the words Karen was speaking, and once again, the dichotomy between what was happening in her mind and in her body felt like a chasm, and as usual, her awareness of that dichotomy, and her effort to narrow it, only caused it to widen. She could feel her mind rebelling; her thoughts felt like the flakes in a snowglobe that had just fallen down the stairs.

And yet, her body. She had the unsettling feeling that Karen, and now Marcus, could speak directly to it, while her waking mind, as though lovingly restrained by the softest of ropes, struggled ineffectually.

Karen's beneficent smile-an enigmatic, protean blend of friendly concern, and maternal love, but occasionally, just occasionally, an evanescent sparkle of leonine ravenousness-bathed her young guest like the morning sunshine, and Karen's ever-sparkling eyes, though they always searched out and seemed to hold Grace's, also explored all of Grace's being.

How could it be, Grace wondered, that Karen's eyes seemed to perceive not only this physical world, but literally, they seemed to perceive Grace's very awareness, to see where her mind's eye was focused and to focus there as well? At this moment, as this series of unsettling thoughts hung in the air, Grace's awareness, and therefore, Karen's awareness, turned to the blossoming warmth between Grace's legs, not, Grace thought to herself, as a result of any choice she'd made, but more because the intensity of the sensations had reached a level where it was impossible not to devote to them at least some level of attention. To put it more simply, Grace felt a sweltering, almost oppressive heat blasting forth from between her legs.

"Sweetie, what is it? What are you feeling now?" Karen asked her.

"Nothing, Karen. It's nothing."

"No, dear, it's obviously not nothing. Marcus and I can clearly see you squirming your little hips back and forth."

"I think I just woke up late and forgot to go to the bathroom." Grace mumbled.

Now it was Marcus' turn. "Grace, Karen and I are both very open and honest people, and we'd appreciate, as a member of this household, if you showed us the same courtesy."

"I just, I, I still feel it, ummm, down there from last night." The words trickled out, more whispered than spoken.

"Yes, Grace, we can see," Marcus responded to her, "And we're so happy that you can. I know these feelings that you're experiencing now are new, and powerful, and maybe even a little scary to you. You might not know how to process these feelings, how to accept them for what they are, which is a natural part of your experience as a woman in this world, a part of your birthright. Am I right about what you're feeling, Grace?"

Grace was looking at her feet, wiggling her toes as Marcus' words entered her mind. She was silent for a few seconds, unsure of what was coming up for her now.

"It's okay, baby. You don't have to agree with me, but if you do, I want you to nod your head for me. Will you do that?"

Grace's consciousness somehow seemed to have become untethered from its normal position within her physical being, and as she looked on from a nearby point in the ether, her head bobbed up and down, bringing a pleased look to Marcus' face, as though his prize student had come up with the correct answer.

"Yes, sweetie, we know," Karen beamed. "We know these feelings you're experiencing feel so big, like waves ready to sweep you away. What you're experiencing now, that sense of fear, like you need to curl up in a ball to protect yourself, we understand that impulse. And we want to help you with that. We want to help you relax, to open yourself up to all these feelings. Will you let me and Marcus help you?"

Again, Grace watched herself nod slowly, the strands of emotion inside of her too numerous and intertwined to tease out and feel individually.

"That's a good girl," Karen said. "Now, let's take a look at what's happening between those beautiful legs. I want Marcus to see you as well."

Karen walked over to the love seat where Grace was sitting and stood behind it. Karen reached her hands down and placed them on Grace's shoulders, pulling her back against the loveseat. Marcus crouched down in front of the seat, so his eyes were at the same level as Grace's. His eyes, as always, seemed to radiate warmth and understanding, a feeling that he truly, deeply, wanted to help, wanted to see what was inside of her, to love it, to allow her to release it so that it no longer ashamed her.

Still holding her eyes with his, he nodded to her in the subtlest of ways. The nod, she knew, had multiple levels of meaning, and even in the amidst of this surreal moment, she experienced a sense of awe and admiration in the complexity of this simplest of gestures. It was him communicating to her that he was ready to see her, to open her up, but also, it was a message that he knew she was ready, despite her nervousness, and that he knew should that she would be okay, that what was about to happen was good, was an important step in her development. With that moment of shared understanding, he placed a hand on each of her hips, then, curling his forefingers slightly, grasped her pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down over her thighs, then her knees, then past her ankles and off entirely.

As soon as her pants and undies were off, Karen-still standing behind the love seat, looking down at the sitting Grace and her husband, kneeling at her feet-reached down and grasped the bottom of Grace shirt and pulled it up over head, leaving the girl without any clothing. Grace had never felt so helpless and exposed, not even the previous night, for then, she alone with Karen and it was nighttime, the darkness affording her, she now realized, some measure of privacy and even protection. Her vulnerability now was accentuated by the juxtaposition of her own nakedness with the fact that Karen and Marcus were fully clothed. It wasn't that she wanted them to undress, not at all, but their own layers of clothing only seemed to highlight the absence of her own.

Even after they undressed her, Grace's legs had remained shut, extending in front of her then, bent at the knees, hanging off the love seat, and her arms, even without her thinking, had instinctively crossed in front of her chest, covering the nipples and as much of the breasts as she could.

From his position at Grace's feet, Marcus brought his eyes up to meet his wife's. In that moment, he felt the depth, the power, of their love and connection, and he understood just how generous the universe had been in causing their shared path to intersect with that of the sweet girl who sat, quivering and naked, on the chair between them. He sensed how Grace's innocence, her youth, elicited in Karen a maternal tenderness, a nurturing quality for she'd been seeking an outlet for so long. In Marcus' eyes, Karen also saw a similar nurturing quality, a need to go beyond, a joy at being able to go beyond, the role he'd had with his patients, where he was limited to sitting across the room from them for an hour at a time once a week.

There was something else they saw in each other's eyes: raw, animalistic lust. A desire not to simply help this wayward child become a woman, but to ravage her, to penetrate her, to fuck her mercilessly, to claim her and make her their own, to use her and fill her body, to leave her sweaty and spent, stretched, crying softly into the pillows as fluids oozed out of her and darkened the sheets where she lay. Marcus and Karen had shared lovers before, had introduced them to the pleasures of the flesh. But they knew that no one had inspired in them the same intensity of feelings as Grace. The desire not only to love and to guide, but to devour, to dominate, to possess.

They also both knew that the moment to claim the girl had not yet arrived, that their task in this moment, with her naked between them on the leather love seat, was to begin the process of opening her, to stoke the flame within her, to cause her to shift the focus of her darting, nervous mind to the new sensations that were erupting within her, to begin to transform her into a creature of the flesh, to a being whose focus was on the ever-building pressure between her legs and the need to release it.

Eyes still locked on Marcus', Karen reached down and slid one hand under each of Grace's thighs just above the knees and pulled firmly up and apart. This movement, which caught Grace by surprise, had the effect of causing Grace's knees to full bend and her legs to butterfly wide open, fully exposing herself to Marcus. So caught off guard was Grace that her instinct kicked in and she tried to close her knees and straighten her legs.

But Karen was too strong for her, and Grace's struggling only caused Karen to hold Grace's knees more firmly and to pull them wider apart.

Marcus smiled at Karen, and his eyes expressed an appreciation for what she had done. He looked down at the squirming girl, spread wide for him. The effect was profound and beautiful: Karen was presenting the girl to him. They were a lion and lioness in the Serengeti, the female having returned from a hunt with a glistening, fresh piece of raw meat, a bountiful gift for her king. The king, in turn, licked his lips and lowered himself to the quivering prey.

Unlike Karen had done the night before, Marcus did not tease the girl. He knew she was ready. Her pussy glistened even as her struggles at being so fully spread open continued, though with progressively less resolve with each passing moment as she began to accept her fate.

He placed his hands on either side of her pussy so his thumbs were closest to her opening. He pressed his thumbs down and moved them away from each other, thus opening her pussy even wider. He could see inside of the canal, could see her juices coating her hymen, which, as Karen had told him, remained in tact. He could see her clit, flushed and fully exposed. Her juices had a milky white color to them, and a certain viscousness that caused him to suspect that the girl might be ovulating.

He placed his lips directly on the clit, pausing for just a moment to savor this sweetest of scents. Then, slowly, he brought his tongue down until its very tip came into contact with the clit. This had the effect of causing the girl to experience a large convulsion, her knees pushing forward and her hips attempting to move up. Marcus was certain Karen would hold the girl tightly, and that none of her movements would succeed in closing her legs.

His tongue pressed down harder on the clit, but still did not move. He savored this moment. His full attention now was on the portion of the tip of his tongue that was in contact with the clit. In a way, he felt like a two-way communication was occurring. From the clit flowed the tiniest tremors, and each tremor spoke of a deep need for release. They seemed to plead with his tongue, to beg it for more stimulation, more movement. The tongue, for the moment, and just absorbed. It learned the clit's size, its sensitivity, the contours of the hood that sometimes enclosed it and the feeling of the labia extended downward and framed the girl's femininity.

As the moments passed, the juices began to accumulate on his tongue, the girl's nectar, all the sweeter knowing that he was the first to partake of it.

Then, he began. Slow, rhythmic, lapping motions with his tongue, directly onto the clit, always in a vertical, up-down motion, starting just below the clit, moving upwards directly over it, then, just when his tongue had completed the upward movement, descended again. The effect on the girl seemed almost violent. Her hips bucked, hard, and she moaned loudly. Karen and Marcus could tell the girl was close already. They'd both sensed her arousal the moment she walked in to the kitchen, and that, as the conversation continued, she was building.

Grace could feel that ball of white light in her tummy again, as she had the night before, but unlike before, Marcus did not make her wait. To the contrary, she felt herself moving towards the edge of the cliff faster and faster, part of her trying to hold on, but knowing it was futile to do so.

Marcus sensed it too, and increased the rate at which his tongue lapped at the girl's clit. The orgasm ripped through her with a force that startled even Karen, who had to tighten her hold on the girl's knees to ensure that she remained spread. Marcus did not stop even after the first wave passed. He wanted the girl to remain at her peak, to drive her farther.

As her pussy continue to convulse, Marcus moved his mouth slightly down, so it was directly over the opening, which by this point was surging with the girl's fluids. Looking down at him, Karen's thought was that he was devouring her, drinking deeply of her, like he was imbibing from a sacred chalice.

As he drank from her, he moved one of his hands so that it was resting on her lower tummy, at a distance where his thumb could reach down and continue to apply stimulation to the clit as Marcus continue to drink from the girl's pussy. Her first orgasm had largely subsided by this point, but Marcus had no intention of allowing her to relax. He wanted to push her, wanting to wring every drop from her, wanting to partake of this fresh sacrament until nothing remained of it, until he had swallowed all of the energy.

When he felt the tremors reducing, he moved his mouth back up to her clit and brought his lips down on it, creating a suction sensation and sucking hard. He knew this would have the effect of causing even more blood to collect in the girl's clit, which he knew would only increase its sensitivity. When he knew he'd accomplished that purpose, he licked harder now, and to his pleasure, he could feel the girl's hips moving towards him now, seeking more pressure on the clit.

Her second orgasm came suddenly, and not long after it, a third. After a point, they all seemed to blend together, and the poor girl was a bucking, moaning mess. Karen smiled as she beheld her husband. He was relentless with her, not giving her time to recooperate after each climax. This experience, this series of moments, she knew, was not about him educating her or helping her appreciate the new sensations in her body. It was about him claiming her, owning her, making her his. As she writhed and struggled, they held her more firmly; as her hips squirmed, their strong hands held her still, keeping her wide open, always wide open.

When finally, Marcus had had enough, he stood up, towering over the girl, who lay whimpering in the chair. Ignoring her, Marcus came around the chair and faced in his wife. Looking into her eyes, the girl's juices still coating his mouth, his lips, his tongue, he kissed Karen deeply. As their tongues danced, they could both taste the girl, her sweetness, her innocence, her loneliness, her longing, her need. When Karen's mouth felt fully coated with Grace, Marcus pulled away, and both of them held each other as they looked down at the girl who, by that point, had curled up on the love seat and fallen asleep.