Jan and Andrea\'s Story

Jan's Story

 

I don't ever want to see you again, bitch!” The door slammed behind me and I was out on the street. Three years of living with Jane had just gone up in smoke. Ok, it was my fault. Letting her find me with Cindy's head buried between my thighs had been the last straw. I might even have got away with it if she hadn't found me in much the same position with Mary a few days ago. But now the rows, like the relationship were well and truly over, and I traipsed over to Christine's flat to see if I could sleep on her couch.

 

My name is Jan, I'm twenty-seven, I work in PR, and I'm a lesbian. I guess I always have been but it wasn't until that affair at collage that I realized I didn't want to hide it any more. Dad freaked when I came out, and mum threw a total wobbler but, after a while, they got round to the 'as long as you're happy' phase and they've grown to live with it.  For the last three years I've been living with Jane but I've always had a roving eye and, in the end, it didn't work out. Now I'm back to trawling through the Evening Standard looking for flat shares. Christine is always good for a sofa for the night but her partner, Sally, doesn't completely trust me and it's a bit awkward.

 

As I read through the classifieds I'd almost given up hope of finding anywhere decent, and was getting resigned to ending up sharing some grotty place somewhere in Walthamstowe when I spotted the ad:-

 

Single, professional, non-smoking woman required for house share in North Finchley. Convenient for Northern Line Tube and buses.

 

£250pm plus £250 deposit

 

Phone Andrea on xxxx xxx xxxx

 

The price was right, the location, whilst not exactly central London, was reasonable, and it sounded so much better than any of the others, so I gave this Andrea a call and introduced myself. As we chatted on the phone we seemed to hit it off almost immediately and, as luck would have it, she worked just round the corner from me so we agreed to meet for drinks after work.

 

The Rose and Crown gets very crowded at five thirty and it was quite a job to spot Andrea amongst the mob around the bar but I found her eventually and we went over to a quiet corner to chat. As I looked her up and down my first impressions were so misleading. Andrea is several years older than me and, dress wise, we're chalk and cheese. I like to keep up with the fashions and my hair is short and spiky. Andrea’s appearance, on the other hand, could best be described as dowdy. There was an air of middle age frump about her.  Her clothes were chosen for practicality; I could easily imagine the plain white sensible Marks and Spencer knickers she would wear. Her shoulder length hair was cut in a boring, normal style. I quickly decided to keep quite about my sexuality; she didn't seem the sort to be particularly broad minded.

 

As a second glass of wine followed the first we started to relax a bit. I still wrote her off as pleasant but dull; we may end up sharing a house but I had no desire to share her bed. As we talked more about ourselves she explained that she had recently been divorced but had kept the house. Whist she was financially independent, fully employed at a legal firm in the city, she'd welcome the extra income that a lodger would provide. By now I was completely sold. Plain, solid, boring Andrea was exactly the landlady I required; a quiet bolt hole from the madness that seems to surround the rest of my life. As long as her house was anything like habitable I'd be glad to move in. Andrea finished off her second drink, gave me a long, hard look and seemed to come to a conclusion.

 

Well” she said, “I think you’re just the sort of person I’m looking for; I'd be quite happy for you to come and live with me. Would you like to see the house?”

 

Naturally I agreed so we left the pub together and headed for the tube. Forty minutes later and I was being shown round her solid, respectable house in a quiet back street in N12. Yes, this would do, I thought to myself, I could live here until something better arrived.

 

Andrea's Story

 

As I let myself in after another dull day at the office I sighed with depression. Ever since that bastard Michael had left me the house had felt cold and empty. I picked up the mail from the mat; bills, bills and more bills. It looked like it would be another month of scrimping and saving. I glanced at myself in the hall mirror. I looked as dull as I felt. Since the divorce I'd found it difficult to be upbeat about anything. I know that some ex-wives find an extra lease of life when their husbands ditch them for a younger model, getting their own back by finding toy boys, but I simply couldn't raise the energy. Although it had been more than a year since decree absolute the words, the hurts, the pain still echoed round my head. Divorce is supposed to be 'fault free' nowadays but he just had to bring up my, as he called it, bizarre sexual tastes as part of the reason. He just loved humiliating me in court, making me out to be some sort of depraved witch. What he really meant was that he was now getting his kicks with some bimbette half his age. Sod the bastard!

 

I traipsed through to the kitchen and began to prepare yet another frozen meal for one. Another evening on my own, another evening wasted in front of the box watching rubbish because that's all that's on. I knew I was stuck in a rut, that I had to do something to break out of this cycle of depression but I just didn’t know where to start.

 

As I ate I flicked through the Evening Standard. In a moment of clumsiness the paper slipped onto the floor and fell open at the flat share pages. As I picked it up inspiration struck me; I could solve two problems at once. Find someone nice to move in and I'd have company and a bit of extra cash. I looked through the ads, got the general tone, and made a few notes on a scrap of paper. Tomorrow I'd place my ad. Maybe this was what I needed. Feeling positive for the first time in months I slipped the notes into my purse and went off to bed.

 

My positive mood was nearly destroyed by the first bunch of replies. I seemed to have attracted every nutter in town and I couldn't put the phone down fast enough on some of them. Why can't people read? When I asked for single, non-smoking professional women I didn't mean those with kids, those on Social Security, heavy smokers, and above all men! I'd almost give up in despair when Jan called and the difference was refreshing. She seemed very pleasant, she fitted the description, and, as she worked just round the corner, we agreed to meet for a drink after work.

 

When we met I was struck by how young she was. It turned out she was twenty-seven, but she dressed much younger and had a spiky, almost punk, hair-do. Still, I suppose it's expected of these PR types, they're all flamboyant extroverts, and, as we settled down, she seemed really nice. I wasn't sure just how much we'd have in common, she certainly wasn’t what I had in mind when I placed the ad, but at least she was clean and well presented. Eventually I bit the bullet and invited her back to see the house.

 

As we took the tube back to North Finchley we relaxed even more and I'd made up my mind that she'd do long before we reached the house. When I showed her round she seemed impressed by what she found and was delighted when we got to the spare room. By the time we returned to the lounge I think we both knew she was going to move in and, as it turned out that she was staying with friends, it seemed that the sooner she moved in the better. A few minutes chat and the deal was done. She'd move in next Saturday.

 

Jan's Story

 

Once I'd settled in, it soon tuned out to be the best move I could have made. Andrea was the perfect landlady, there was plenty of room in the house and she even had her own en-suite so we didn't clash in the mornings. She started cooking me supper from time to time, explaining that she'd got so bored with eating alone and she loved the company. Moreover, she didn't inquire where I was off to when I went out clubbing, nor did she mind what time I got home as long as I did not to wake her. I was, however, careful not to bring my conquests back however much it cramped my style. Andrea had made it clear that this wouldn't be appreciated; “I'd prefer it if you didn't bring boys back” were her exact words. I think she'd have totally freaked if I brought home some of the girls from the clubs!

 

I'd been there about six weeks when everything changed. It was Saturday morning and I was mooching around in the kitchen having a late breakfast when I heard an almighty crash from upstairs. I dashed upstairs to Andrea's room wondering what on earth I would find. Would I end up calling an ambulance? The crash had certainly seemed loud enough to suggest so. I suppose I should have knocked but I was so concerned that I just barged into her room to find out if she was Ok.

 

When I entered I found Andrea, in her dressing gown and pajamas, sprawled on the floor next to an upturned chair. A couple of suitcases and some boxes lay scattered beside her. It didn't take much to work out what had happened. She must have been clearing out the top of her wardrobe when the whole lot had come down bringing her with it. I helped her to her feet and sat her on the bed.

 

“Are you alright?” I asked.

 

“Yes, fine, I'm just a bit bruised and shaken, that's all.” She replied.

 

I reached down and started to pick up the boxes. One was much heavier than it looked and, as I grabbed it, it split open and its contents fell to the floor. For a moment I just stood there aghast. There on the floor was a collection of obvious bondage gear. It was all a bit too jumbled to make out exactly what was there but I could clearly see leather cuffs, bits of chain, and a paddle, ready and waiting to be applied to a willing arse!

 

Without a word I shoveled all the stuff back in the box. I didn’t want to make a fuss; I could tell Andrea was deeply embarrassed and she'd had enough with the fall. Once it was all back I suggested a cup of tea which she gratefully accepted. I went down to the kitchen to make it and, before the kettle boiled, Andrea followed me down, still in her dressing gown.

 

Andrea's Story

 

I could have died on the spot! There it all was, my guilty secret, spilt out on the floor in front of Jan. What would she think of me? I was expecting cries of horror or disgust but she was sweetness itself, and didn't bat an eyelid. As she went to make me a cup of tea I resolved that she deserved to hear the rest.

 

I followed her downstairs and we sat together at the kitchen table. The fall had shaken me, and I guess I was still quite emotional, and that all added to the feeling that I just had to tell someone. I just hoped she wouldn't be too shocked.

 

“Jan,” I started, “about that stuff... I think I need to explain.”

 

“You really don't have to.” Jan replied. “But if you want to... Was that why you got divorced, Michael wanted to do all sorts of kinky stuff and you refused?”

 

“Not exactly, it was more of the other way around, actually. I wanted the kinky stuff, he was the one who didn’t.” There, I'd said it!

 

“Wow, is that what turns you on?” Jan seemed intrigued rather than shocked.

 

“Yes, it's... it's... It's difficult to explain but, yes, it's what I like. There's something about being controlled, being subject to someone else's will, that really gets to me. Michael did try to get into it once or twice but I could see that his heart wasn't in it. When I bought all the stuff you just saw he completely flipped, called me all sorts of names. In the end it just became my guilty secret in a box on top of the wardrobe.”

 

From then on it all just flowed. I'd kept this secret bottled up inside me for so long, never daring to tell anyone, and now I couldn't stop. I explained how, in my fantasies, I was a naughty girl who had to be punished, how I would be tied up, humiliated and spanked. I expected Jan to be horrified but seemed to take it very calmly, barely interrupting except to ask the occasional question. Each question seemed to spur me on, help me to unburden myself, help me to tell her secrets I’d hardly admitted to myself.

 

“Poor you, all those toys and no-one to play with.” Jan still seemed sympathetic. “How do you scratch that itch?”

 

“I don't. I guess I've got used to the celibate life. I've thought about searching out one of those clubs, but it seems very risky, putting myself under the control of complete strangers. I'd love to meet someone to play with but I just don't know how.”

 

“What about me?” Jan said quietly.

 

There was a long, long silence as what Jan had just suggested sunk in. She sat there with a friendly smile on her face as natural as if she had offered a walk in the park rather than...

 

“But… Jan!” I said at last. “But you're a woman. I can’t, not with a woman; I'm not a lesbian.”

 

“But I am.” Jan replied. It seemed this was the time for both of us to be open. I suppose I should have been shocked but, compared to me, this seemed quite normal.

 

“Look, we've got to know each other quite well over the last few weeks.” Jan continued. “I trust you, and I hope you trust me. Why don't we have some fun together? Here's a plan. I've got nothing on tonight that I can't cancel. Why don't you cook us a nice meal, we'll split a bottle of wine, and then you show me your toys. If it works out, great, if it doesn't then we'll both forget it ever happened. Go on, step outside your comfort zone for a change, you know you want to.”

 

“I don't know... We'll have to see... Can I say yes or no later?” My mind was a maelstrom of emotions. I don't know if I was still dizzy from the fall, or from the conversation. I couldn't, not with a woman, not with Jan! On the other hand part of me could feel the paddle across my buttocks, part of me ached to be the submissive again. It had been so long since I'd... Maybe, just this once, maybe I should...

 

“Let me think about it. Please Jan, let me have a think. I'm not saying no, and I'm grateful that you offered, but I just don't know...”

 

“Certainly, we'll talk later. Do you fancy another cuppa?” Jan got up and went to the kettle.

 

Jan's Story

 

What a turn up for the books! Once she'd got in the confessional mood it all poured out. It seems that boring, frumpy, Andrea is a secret bondage freak. I was seeing her in a different light and no mistake. We, or rather she, talked for quite a while and, as she talked a wicked thought began to form in my mind. She gets her kicks from bondage, I get my kicks from converting 'straight' women; we could both have fun and scratch each other’s itches. Given that she was in this confessional mood I decided to match it with a frank and open offer. When I suggested playing together that evening she got very flustered but she didn't say no, and I just knew she'd say yes in the end.

 

Anyway, we both had things to do during the day so we left it hanging and went our separate ways. I went up to my room, powered up my PC and did some searching on the Internet. Although I’ve never been afraid of trying out new ideas in the bedroom I've never been into the whole bondage/S&M thing so I needed to do some research. By the time I’d finished I had plenty of ideas; some of the sites I found certainly opened my eyes. Later that afternoon I also found the time to nip out for a little shopping; there were a couple of items I just might need. The only question was whether Andrea would bottle out.

 

At five-o-clock I was reading in the lounge when Andrea came down. Although she didn’t say anything directly I could immediately tell that she hadn’t bottled out. The difference in her was amazing. She'd chosen a tight black cocktail dress that suited her figure; she’d fixed her hair, and put on some make-up. The dowdy mouse was certainly coming out of her shell and I was beginning to appreciate that she really is quite an attractive woman. She told me supper would be ready at six thirty and went to the kitchen to start cooking. Meanwhile I went upstairs to shower and get changed; if she could make the effort then the least I could do was reciprocate. I don't do dresses, they're just not me, but I found a trouser suit which fitted me well and looked suitably dominant. I'd just got ready when Andrea called me down to dinner.

 

When I returned downstairs I found that the dining table had been laid out for a romantic meal for two with all the trimmings. A candle flickered gently and the lights were low. A bottle of very nice Chablis was resting in a cooler. Andrea motioned me to sit and we started the meal.

 

I tried to keep the conversation light and easy. I could see that Andrea was very nervous and I wanted to keep her as calm as possible. Neither of us mentioned where the night might be heading but it was easy to see what was on her mind. Fortunately she had kept the food light and simple, there's nothing worse than gymnastic sex when you’re feeling all bloated after eating too much. Throughout the meal she fussed round me, refusing to let me lift a finger, and she kept the wine flowing so we were both a little tipsy by the end.

 

As I dabbed the last remnants of desert from my lips Andrea looked up at me.

 

“I'll wash up in the morning. Would you like to come upstairs?”

 

We got up from the table and headed for her room.

 

Andrea's Story

 

After my morning confession my mind was in turmoil. There was an immense sense of relief that I’d finally found the courage to tell someone and then there was Jan’s reaction; instead of the shock or disapproval that I thought I’d get, she was suggesting that we… And then my mind whirled again. Jan, a lesbian! I’d never guessed, she’d certainly kept quiet about it, and now she was suggesting… I’d never even looked at a woman in that way before. The very thought of it disturbed me deeply, but, and this really bothered me, I couldn’t tell if I was shocked or intrigued. Part of my fantasies involved being violated by brutes with huge penises; what would a woman do to me? In my mind’s eye I kept trying to imagine what she would be like, imagining myself, bound and gagged, the feel of the strap, how much would it matter what the sex of the person wielding it was?

 

I went back upstairs to finish off tidying above the wardrobe. Although Jan had replaced most of the stuff in the box it was still visible, taunting me. How silly to have all this stuff and never use it. All the dreams I’d had of playing with Michael had gone so sour. I picked up a wrist cuff and fiddled with it for a while. Suddenly a wave of resolve washed through me. Who cared what Michael thought or said; he’d gone from my life. Why was his disapproval still a factor? Why was I so scared to indulge in something that made me feel so good? And if it all went wrong, well, we’d cross that bridge if and when we got to it.

 

Having made my mind up I knew I had to act or I’d start getting doubts again. First things first, I had to do something about my appearance, something to lose that frumpy look that had become my everyday image. I opened the wardrobe and started to search through. Somewhere I had my naughty schoolgirl outfit but, give the difference in our ages, it didn’t seem quite appropriate. I couldn’t see Jan as the stern headmistress. Anyway it looked far too tarty and that wasn’t the image I wanted.  If I were going to do this I wanted to look far more sophisticated. Finally I chose a black cocktail dress that I hadn’t worn in ages. Nothing too sexy, not too much cleavage, I didn’t want to flaunt myself, but I did want something that flattered my figure. I glanced in the mirror. Forty was just around the corner and it was starting to show. Nothing too bad, though, during my depression I’d hardly eaten a thing so I’d lost those pounds that were beginning to bulge around the middle.

 

The next thing to sort out was some underwear. I opened my knickers draw and looked through it in disgust. It seemed that everything I owned was plain white cotton. Functional and hardwearing but hardly the thing for tonight; what a frumpy cow I’d become! Still there was time to nip to the shops during the afternoon and find something better.

 

Then I laid out the contents of the box on the bed as I didn’t want Jan to have to rummage through it. While I did so the reality of what I was planning hit me again and my heart began to race; I could feel a little tingle in my groin. Was I really going to go through with this? There was still time to back out, but the sight of all the bits and pieces laid out before me added to the thrill. Soon, so soon, I’d be… I’d be what exactly? Who knows what Jan was planning? I hoped she wasn’t going to disappoint.

 

Then it was time to go to the shops. It felt quite strange browsing for silky lingerie; it had been so long since I’d been with someone who would even see my underwear, let alone appreciate it. I wanted to find something that looked sexy without looking cheap. As I browsed through the racks it brought home to me what I was doing, preparing my self for my lover, and that increased the thrill, increased the anticipation. I wasn't sure what Jan would want me to wear, I'd never dressed for a woman before, but it was important for my self esteem that I looked my best. In the end I chose a black chemise top trimmed with lace combined with matching French knickers. Stylish, sophisticated and sexy, and my breasts are still firm enough, thank heavens, not to need a bra.

 

Back home I ran myself a long hot bath to help me relax. However, if anything, it did the opposite; it reminded me of what was in store for tonight, as if I were getting myself ready to be her sacrifice. I washed myself thoroughly and, if I spent a minute or two too long soaping between my thighs, then that was simply more of getting myself in the mood. In disgust I looked at my pubic hair. I’d left it untrimmed for ages and it was an unruly bush. I’m not into shaving, Michael asked me to try it once and I itched for days, but I do like to look tidy so I trimmed it back to a nice close cut.

 

Once out of the bath I went back to my room to get dressed and to try on my new undies for the first time. As I looked in the mirror the phrase ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ crossed my mind. What on earth would a young girl like Jan want with an old hag like me? Still, it was her who had suggested it.

 

I went downstairs to prepare the meal. I really wanted to make it special and cooking a romantic meal for two was another thing I hadn’t done in ages so I pushed the boat out a bit. I fetched two of the better bottles of Chablis from the rack and put them in the fridge. I didn’t want to get us drunk but a couple of sips of wine might help loosen things up a bit. My nerves certainly needed it.

 

I did salmon steaks in a béarnaise sauce, asparagus tips and new potatoes. Simple, easy, light and, though I say it myself, pretty impressive. I got quite a buzz from being back in the kitchen with a purpose, cooking for someone other than myself. For desert I prepared a tiramisu, again keeping it light and easy. I laid out the table with the best silver and lit a candle, exactly the romantic setting I wanted.

 

All through the meal my heart was a-flutter. Jan seemed to be enjoying her food and was pleasant company. Myself, I could hardly eat a thing, and had to hold myself back from fussing round her. It seemed forever before we had finally finished. At last she put down her spoon, wiped her lips on her napkin and looked up at me. Now for it, no going back, time to take the plunge…

 

“I'll wash up in the morning. Would you like to come upstairs?” I asked. Jan stood up, came over and kissed me. Then, taking me by the hand, she led me upstairs.

 

 

Jan’s Story

 

As soon as we got up from the table I knew it was time to take control. This wasn’t the first Sapphic virgin I’d introduced to the delights of lesbian sex and Andrea’s nerves were more than obvious. Taking her by the hand I led her straight to her bedroom and stood her in the center of the floor. Now to put into practice all the things I'd learnt on the web.

 

“You know why you’re here, don’t you?” I kept my voice stern and hard.

 

“Yes. Yes, Mistress.” She mumbled. I liked the sound of ‘Mistress’.

 

“So, tell me.”

 

“I’ve been naughty, Mistress. I need to be punished.”

 

“And do naughty little girls deserve any modesty?” I demanded.

 

“No, Mistress”

 

“So why have you still got your dress on? You should know better than that.” I snapped.

 

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

 

As Andrea scrambled her way out of her dress I looked over the paraphernalia laid out on the bed. As well as a selection of leather cuffs and restraints there was the paddle, about eight inches by four inches of hard leather with a wooden handle attached. I picked it up and idly slapped the bed. The resounding ‘thwap’ was echoed by a squeak from Andrea. I looked up and saw her standing, looking fabulous in silky lingerie that suited her perfectly. The woman I'd once written off as boring and dowdy was standing before me looking gorgeous and delectable. One hand was held over her crutch, the other across her breasts. Her eyes were wide with nervous anticipation and she was gently biting her lower lip. It was all I could do to stop myself sweeping her into my arms and covering her with kisses, she looked so desirable. I went over and stood in front of her.

 

“Stand up straight!” I snapped. “Look at you, all dressed up like a French whore. You look like a cheap tart, and that's what you are, a cheap tart.”

 

Slowly I walked round her, inspecting her as a sergeant would inspect her troops. I kept a sneer on my face while I adjusted the strap of her chemise, not that it needed it, but the effect was noticeably getting through to her

 

“Kneel.” As Andrea got down on her knees I reached in my pocket for my afternoon purchase. I dangled it in front of her face.

 

“Do you know what this is?” I asked.

 

“Yes, Mistress. A collar, Mistress.”

 

“Yes, it’s a collar. Do you know what it means?”

 

“It means I’m your property, your pet, your slave.”  There was a wistful note in Andrea’s voice.

 

“You want to wear it, don’t you? You want to be my property. You want to be owned, controlled, to be my little pet, don’t you? Don’t you?”

 

“Yes, please, Mistress. Please let me wear your collar.”

 

“You can ask nicer than that, can’t you?”

 

“Please, Mistress, your slave begs you to allow her to wear your collar. Please let me be your pet, I promise to be obedient to your every whim. Please, Mistress, please.”

 

“No.” The look of shocked disappointment on Andrea’s face was priceless, like a little child being deprived of sweets. “If you’re going to wear this collar you’re going to have to earn it. You’re going to have to prove to me that you deserve it. Do you think you can do that?”

 

“Please, Mistress. I’ll do anything you say, anything to please you.”

 

“Yes, you will. Now, it’s time I spanked you. Get on the bed and kneel down with your face on the pillows.” Andrea started to get up but I pushed her back down. “Did I say you could stand up? Crawl to the bed on your hands and knees.”

 

Whilst Andrea crawled to the bed I went over to the bondage gear and sorted out some cuffs. Once she was in position I pulled her arms back and, using double cuffs, attached them to her ankles. I pulled up her chemise and tugged down her knickers.

 

“Spread your knees, come on, wider.” Andrea struggled to obey. “Do you know why you’re like this, tied up with your bottom open and everything on display?”

 

“Yes, Mistress. I’m to be punished, Mistress.”

 

“Oh, but there’s more to it than that; you want to be here, don’t you? You’re aroused, aren’t you?” I reached down and cupped her pussy with my hand. “Look how wet you are, you’re like a bitch in heat. Do you know why that is?”

 

“Yes… No… I don’t know, Mistress.”  Andrea was rubbing herself against my hand. I felt with my fingers and found her clitoris.”

 

“It’s because you’re a slut, a disgusting, depraved slut! All you think about is your own pleasure, you’re sex obsessed. That’s why you want it and that’s why I’m going to punish you. Now, what are you?”

 

“A slut, Mistress.” Andrea mumbled into the pillow.

 

“Louder, I can’t hear you.”

 

“I’m a slut, Mistress. I’m disgusting and depraved and I need to be punished.” This time Andrea almost shouted. By now she was shamelessly rubbing herself against my hand. I gave her a few seconds more and then moved away.

 

“Do you know what a safe word is, slut?”

 

“Yes, Mistress.”

 

“Yours is ‘strawberry’” I reached down, took the paddle and struck her firmly across the buttocks.

 

Andrea’s Story

 

As soon as we got to the bedroom I found myself slipping easily into the submissive role. Even if I hadn’t Jan’s tone would have soon put me there. She immediately took control and in no time my dress was off and she was looking at me as if I were something she'd found on the sole of her shoe. A few snide remarks and I was kneeling at her feet as she dangled a collar in front of me. There’s something about a collar that strikes at the very heart of submission. It’s a symbol of being owned, of being a pet, or a slave, of being at the mercy of someone else’s will. I could see that there was a nametag attached. What had she had engraved? What was I to her? I longed to read it, I longed to wear it. However, no sooner had I asked to wear it than it was snatched away. I was to be made to beg to be her slave.

 

Unless you’re a submissive it’s difficult to appreciate the thrill this gave me. Here I was, a grown woman on my knees before a girl ten years my junior begging to be her slave but there’s a freedom in servitude that touches something deep inside me and satisfies some very basic urges. All my life I’ve been the ‘good’ girl, always prim and proper, always well behaved, always under control, but deep inside me there’s a wild beast that wants, nay needs, to abandon itself to uninhibited lust. As the slave abandons her freedom she abandons her responsibility; she is free to follow her wildest desires because she only does it to please her owner. Kneeling before Jan I would gladly have submitted to anything because, in satisfying her, I would be satisfying the beast in me.

 

Jan ordered me onto the bed, kneeling with my face in the pillows. Roughly she tugged my wrists back and cuffed them to my ankles. My chemise was lifted and my knickers pulled down. Then Jan ordered me to spread my legs so that my backside was up and open, displaying everything I have like the wanton trollop I am. Suddenly her hand was down there, covering my pussy, her fingers probing inside my slit. There was no hiding how aroused I was, how freely my juices flowed, how ready I was. As the tips of her fingers flicked against my clitoris I was screaming out what a depraved, disgusting slut I am, driven by need, driven by lust.

 

And then she reached for the paddle. As soon as the first blow landed years of pent up frustration started to come to the boil within me. The fire in my buttocks fed the fire in my groin. For a while I tried to control it, I bit the pillow, stifling my cries, but then I couldn’t, I didn’t want to, I needed to abandon myself, to lose control. With each blow my muscles convulsed, my arms strained against the cuffs holding them to my ankles and I was wriggling about so much that several times Jan needed to steady me with her hand. I started to sob uncontrollably, the tears running down my face but I didn’t care. I’d never felt so alive. I was in heaven, I was in hell, every nerve in my body was on fire, straining, urging, driving me higher, driving me wilder.

 

As the blows continued they all seemed to blur into one. My very being seemed centred on the ball of pain which engulfed by buttocks, my heart raced, my groin throbbed and I could feel my climax nearing. It was as if I just needed that one little push, that one little touch and I would be there. I could feel myself straining against the straps that held me, pushing my bottom higher. Through my sobbing I was begging Jan to strike harder, push me that extra inch but all that came out was ‘Please, Mistress. Oh, please I beg you.’ Over and over again.

 

And then the last blow fell. For a moment or two the room felt very quiet. I was still crying but the noise seemed to come from somewhere else, somewhere far away. I was floating, in limbo, on a sexual high which demanded release, awaiting whatever it was that would happen next. Jan put down the paddle and lay down on the bed beside me. I turned my head to face her and she reached across and started to gently, tenderly kiss away my tears.

 

“Thank you, thank you, Mistress.” I gasped as soon as my crying had subsided enough.

 

“And does my little slut slave need to come now?” Jan asked, her voice full of tease and a wicked smile on her face.

 

“Yes please, Mistress. Please let me come.”

 

“You’ll have to ask better than that.”

 

“Please, Mistress, please, I beg you. I need to come so badly. Please let your slut slave come.” The humiliation of having to beg for release, of admitting to the depth of my need, added to the thrill.

 

“No, I don’t think so, not now, maybe later, if I’m in a good mood, if I feel you deserve it. Like the collar, sexual gratification is something you're going to have to earn.” Jan replied casually.  “Now, you’re far too bunched up like this, I can’t get at you; I want you spread-eagled on your back. Just hang on whilst I adjust your bonds.”

 

I was horrified. Did she mean it? Would she be that cruel? Would she turn me on this much and then not do anything about it? I was too stunned to make any resistance as she rearranged me across the bed. I was vaguely aware of a vicious twinge as my battered buttocks touched the bed, of my arms and legs being tugged apart, of the chains being tightened and fastened holding me down.

 

“That’s better, now I can get at you. And now it’s playtime but first let me get rid of this top.” Jan knelt up on the bed and started to unbutton the jacket of her trouser suit. Her blouse, or perhaps I should say shirt, followed and she was naked from the waist up.

 

Jan’s Story

 

As soon as I started with the paddle it was like a dam had burst. With each blow Andrea's whole body flinched. The paddle obviously hurt and I wasn't holding back, her bottom was soon covered in bright red marks, and, after an initial resistance, she was sobbing openly. However, equally obvious was the depth of the emotions coursing through her, how much she was being turned on. The lips of her pussy were swollen and glistening with excitement. Her whole body worked against the restraints and she was moving about so much that a couple of times I had to steady her or she’d have fallen over. Once or twice I wondered if she would come simply from being paddled but each time the wave seemed to break just before she climaxed. Finally, with her whole bottom and upper thighs red with marks, I judged she had had enough.

 

As she calmed down I lay down on the bed beside her and kissed her face. Her eyes glistened with tears and anticipation but, if I were to play the cruel mistress, there was plenty more teasing to come before I let her have any relief. She was far too inaccessible, bunched up in the kneeling position so I rearranged her, spread eagled across the bed and, as it was time to get down to business, took off my jacket and shirt.

 

I lay down next to Andrea and began to tease. I pulled up her chemise and, as my hand stroked her belly, my lips kissed her breasts. Teasingly, tantalizingly, I kissed everywhere except her nipples. Meanwhile my hand was stroking and massaging her belly slipping from time to time beneath the waistband of her knickers but never straying beyond the top of her pubic hair. From time to time I caressed the grove that runs at the top of the thighs, following it down, closer and closer but never quite reaching her groin. I could tell this was having the desired effect; Andrea was moaning softly and giving little gasps of frustration every time my lips moved away, rather than towards her nipples. Finally I let my lips brush gently against the tip of her right nipple which solicited a gasp of ‘Oh, please!’

 

“Is that what you want? Do you want me to kiss your nipples?” I asked.

 

“Please, Mistress, please don’t tease anymore. I need to come so badly. Please, please, I beg you, please.”

 

“Seeing as you ask so nicely…” My head dropped down again but instead of kissing I used my teeth, biting hard. At the same time my hand pushed down and grabbed her pussy, pushing my fingers hard inside her.

 

Andrea’s Story

 

Once Jan had tied me up across the bed she started to tease. Every nerve in my body was alive, every sense heightened and the slightest little touches were driving me wild. Time and time again her lips would approach my nipples, or her fingers approach my slit, but each time she’d pull back. The tension inside me was unbearable; it felt as if one touch, one kiss, would be all it needed.

 

Finally her lips brushed my nipple and it was if an electric shock coursed through my body. I couldn’t bear it if she pulled away again and a gasp of ‘Oh, please’ escaped. Immediately Jan was making me beg again and the words came freely, I needed her touch so much I really would have gladly done anything, anything at all.

 

And then it happened, she bit down hard on my nipple and thrust her hand hard between my thighs. Twin rivers of fire shot through me, tearing me apart, exploding inside me. My senses imploded, my body jerked uncontrollably, straining against the cuffs at my wrists and ankles. I arched my back, driven upwards by the sheer intensity of the conflicting sensations coursing through my body, the arrows of pain from my nipple clamped between her teeth, the rugged force of Jan’s hand thrust so roughly inside me, grasping, squeezing, abusing me, the leather straps biting into my wrists and ankles, and then the explosion, the joyous explosion as my climax finally came and every inch of my body screamed YES, YES, YES!!!

 

For a moment or two I was transfixed, totally lost in a whirlwind of feelings, all my senses overloaded, my whole body screaming in pain and pleasure. And then the wave broke and slowly, as if returning from a far distance, I began to recover my senses. My muscles relaxed and I flopped back on the bed, limp and exhausted, like a rag doll. My body felt used and abused, but completely and absolutely satisfied. I knew my nipple, my buttocks and my vagina were going to be sore for quite some time but, oh, was it worth it! I turned my head and saw Jan lying beside me smiling like the cat who had swallowed the cream.

 

“You’re a naughty little girl.” She mocked.

 

“Yes, Mistress. I’m sorry, Mistress.”

 

“You weren’t supposed to come, not until I said so.”

 

“I’m sorry, Mistress, I couldn’t help it.”

 

“Hmm… So I saw. You know I’m going to have to punish you for that. Not right away, we’ll save that for later. Right now I’m going to undo your bonds and show you how to satisfy my needs.”

 

Jan undid the cuffs from my wrists and ankles and, as I removed the tangled mess that was my chemise and knickers Jan took off her trousers and panties and slipped into bed beside me. As our lips locked and our bodies curled together I couldn’t have cared less that I was making love to another woman, I was making love to my Mistress and I was ready and more than willing to serve her in any way she wanted.

 

To be continued…