0 comments/ 14218 views/ 13 favorites Sheba's Subjugation Ch. 01 By: 4Sheba At four in the afternoon on a beautiful summer day, 43-year-old Clarisse Ward was lounging in an arm chair, anxiously awaiting her visitor. She had prepared carefully for this visit, including what she felt was the perfect outfit; tight charcoal gray lycra pants that covered but concealed none of the carefully maintained curves of her legs and buttocks and a loose-fitting cotton tank top that revealed the swell of her breasts around the edges. Barefoot and slightly buzzed from a now two-thirds empty bottle of Chardonnay sitting next to her, Clarisse was curled up in a comfortable arm chair aimlessly browsing the internet to pass the time. When she heard her children rushing down the stairs, she knew her visitor had arrived. "Mom, Sheba is here," her eldest, Tyler said rushing to the front door to greet the visitor. Fifteen-year-old Tyler's brother, William, was two years younger and two steps slower but no less motivated to greet the lithe and distractingly attractive Sheba who had now been cutting the boys' hair for over a year. It wasn't hard to determine what it was about Sheba that excited them the most. Clarisse could sum up Sheba's looks with a simple statement; the kind of girl who makes you think dirty thoughts but with a hint of innocence that makes you feel guilty for thinking those kind of thoughts about somebody's sister. In her five-and-a-half-foot frame, the 24-year-old Sheba packed a veritable arsenal of sexiness; lustrous jet black hair pulled into a severe ponytail framing her model's face including captivating green eyes that were often missed due to a statuesque (Clarisse guessed 36D) bosom that God had certainly not given her and a body that was all woman and should have required warning labels due to strong sexual and/or suggestive content. Clarisse's next comment would have surprised many and probably been chalked up to jealousy by most. "That woman brings out the bitch in me," Clarisse said in voice audible only to herself. However, it wasn't jealousy but fear that created such tension within Sheba. It was fear and perhaps a bit of confusion over the effect Sheba was beginning to have on her. Yesterday, Clarisse had asked Sheba to visit the house as a favor to cut their hair before a camping trip with their dad. Sheba readily agreed and then Clarisse added, "Perhaps once the boys leave you and I can have a drink or two out by the pool once the boys leave." Sheba said that said nice but Clarisse was sure that Sheba would find the actual event far less so. In fact, Clarisse had been planning this chat by the pool for quite some time now. The boys opened the door and both boys surged to hug Sheba, who today was wearing a very pretty and surprisingly conservative cotton floral dress. While Sheba might give off an innocent vibe, she also sported some piercings and tattoos that suggested she didn't spend much time thumbing through Ambercrombie and Fitch catalogues. "Look Mom. Her hair isn't purple this time," said her eldest son Tyler who, she was sure, had a fifteen-year-old's crush on Sheba. Clarisse had once made a disparaging comment about Sheba's purple-dyed locks which Tyler obviously remembered. If Clarisse were honest, she had to admit that Sheba's dark locks suited her well. Instead, she thought to herself, "Who cares? Next week it would probably be red or streaked with green. The little slut apparently believes you should change hair color as often as some people change underwear. Not that this little slut is even wearing any underwear." Again, Clarisse chided herself for letting her inner bitch run loose. Clarisse knew she needed to be far more in control of herself if she hoped to avoid the problems in her life and marriage that this woman posed. Clarisse had wondered, more than once, whether Sheba knew what effect she was having on her husband and whether they were intentional. Regardless, she had been forced to develop a plan to deal with the situation and today was D-Day when the slut would be brought to heel. But first, time to dispense with the excuse for the visit; haircuts for the boys. "Boys, take Sheba into the kitchen," Clarisse said without leaving the chair. "Sheba, I'm just finishing up something important here but I am sure you can handle the boys and thank you so much for coming." With that, the boys each grabbed one of Sheba's hands and hurriedly led her to the kitchen. **** As Sheba traveled under the power of the two children/virtual sled dogs out of the room, all she could think was, "What a bitch!" She really like cutting the boys hair as well as their father's hair but Clarisse Ward was definitely the downer on the experience. And it had been that way from Day One. And Sheba had no idea why. Well, actually, she corrected herself, there are reasons for her to dislike me but none she's aware of. Today, the bitch was apparently sporting "yoga chic" that probably cost a thousand dollars but, Sheba grudgingly admitted did make the older woman look stunning. In fact, Sheba had literally sucked in her breath at the visual of Clarisse curled up like a cat in an outfit that was highly suggestive. Suggestive didn't even start to describe it actually. If she went outside like that her neighbors would be tripping over themselves for glimpses of camel toe and nipple slips. Just like Sheba had, she admitted. Clarisse Ward might be a bitch but she was also a very beautiful woman. Sheba thought of Clarisse looked like a very sexy Valkyrie with a stunningly feminine face that also exuded very masculine strength and confidence connected to the body of a triathlete towering over her own frame by at least three inches. Indeed, Sheba had thought about that body and face more than once in dreams that made her face flush at the memory when she awoke. More than once, her hand had travelled between her legs, stroking herself to incredible orgasms as she imagined coupling with Clarisse or with both Clarisse and her husband. However, in reality, Clarisse was the bitch who ruined a part of her time with two great kids and a very hunky husband. Yep, Clarisse's husband, Duncan, was extremely climbable; the picture they put in the dictionary for tall, dark and handsome. He had a frame he kept trim by rowing and looks that were rugged in the way that makes women rue that some men can age so gracefully that they actually look better as they get older. For over a year now, Sheba had enjoyed some increasingly heated verbal flirtations with the Duncan while she cut his hair each month. In fact, she "might" have suggested more than once to Duncan that she wouldn't object too much if he crossed some lines with her. However, Duncan had never taken the bait and, besides, Clarisse wouldn't know any of that, Sheba thought. Something obviously had Clarisse's panties in a bunch, though, and the short answer to what seemed to be Sheba's existence in the world. Which made her invitation to cut the boys hair at the house today all the stranger. The thought about panties in a bunch made Sheba smile because she had opted to forgo bra or panties, reveling in her small and completely secret desecration of the Ward home beneath her "good girl" dress. At that moment, Duncan came into the room to check on the progress with the boys. She was washing Tyler's hair in the sink, William was distracted playing on his iPhone and Sheba seriously considered "accidentally" give Duncan an eyeful with his unsuspecting wife in the same room. A little splash of water spilled so her dress clung to her or a quick turn to lift up her dress and show him more than a little thigh? "Down girl," Sheba told herself. "Let's try to get through this afternoon without having anything spectacular happen." "Hi Sheba," Duncan said. "Almost finished? I'm hoping to get on the road before traffic hits." "Sure but doesn't the biggest boy want his hair cut," Sheba asked sweetly. She could see Duncan ponder but ultimately discard this. Tjeir haircutting sessions had almost reached the PG-13 level and it was obvious that Duncan did not want to forgo the experience for a month or bring it into his home. "No time," Duncan said. "Boys, I already packed the bags so give Sheba and your mom a hug before you leave and then get your butts in the car. Got it?" Both boys nodded and Sheba found herself almost nodding along with them. She liked the way Duncan gave directions and she found herself wishing he was directing her in some very non-family-friendly ways. She quickly finished up washing Tyler's hair and sent both boys off with a hug. "Don't forget to hug your mom," Sheba said with as much sincerity as she could muster. "Snakes need love, too," she added inwardly. **** When the boys came in to give her a hug, Clarisse knew it was almost time. She had deliberately stopped drinking since it was apparent that she was sacrificing control and she just needed to cowgirl up and stop searching for courage in a bottle. She unwound herself from the chair and walked to the kitchen. As she opened the door, she found Sheba bent over the table cleaning up and the position left her thigh tattoo almost completely exposed. Clarisse had never completely determined whether it was a snake or a dragon but she did know it was beautiful and that she had thought about it more than once. Which was not normal. Sheba hadn't even opted for the almost required lesbian experience in college. She just flat out had never really thought about women sexually. Until Sheba. "Thanks for getting the boys off quickly," Clarisse said. "Leave all that mess and come join me by the pool. You and I have a few things to talk about." ***** Clarisse pointed Sheba to a matching set of lounge chairs by a pool that was encased not in blue but a deep gray chalky texture that was far classier, Sheba thought, and reminded her of a dark sand beach she had once visited on Hawaii. "Would you like wine, beer or a cocktail," Sheba heard Clarisse ask. "Beer," Sheba replied. She self-consciously began to wonder whether she had made the right choice and then which part of the etiquette book this situation would be in. She was, after all, trying for polite and innocent as her guide for how to navigate this apparent....what, she thought. Confrontation? Well, she would soon find out and apparently in style she thought as she saw Clarisse pour a bottle of Stella Artois beer into a frosted glass – something that literally made Sheba's mouth water at the thought of how delicious it would taste. Then she she noticed a smile creep over Clarisse's face. "Did I say something funny," Sheba asked. "No it's just something my husband said about girls who prefer beer," Clarisse said. Suddenly, Clarisse flashed back to a conversation she had had with Duncan while cutting his hair where he had discussed a compatibility study done for a dating site that revealed that men who liked oral sex should date girls who like beer because girls who liked beer also liked to suck cocks and girls who didn't like beer were shown to almost never like sucking cocks any more than they felt obligated to. Sheba noticed that Clarisse had poured herself a very generous glass of red wine and then watched her down a very healthy swallow of it before returning to the chairs with their drinks. "So, do you," Clarisse asked. "Do I what," Sheba asked. "No need to lie. I can tell Duncan told you about the study connecting blowjobs to beer," she said. "Do you like to suck cocks?" The frankness stunned Sheba. In all the time she had known Clarisse, the woman had never used a profanity or even remotely touched on anything sexual. "Trust me, Sheba, the answer won't shock me," Clarisse continued when Sheba stalled with an answer. "And, as you will learn, this will pale in comparison to what we are going to talk about this afternoon." "Yes, I suppose" Sheba answered, unsure what to say or where this conversation was going. It was certainly no place she expected. "And my husband's cock," Clarisse asked, taking a healthy swig of wine she had poured for herself. "Would you like to suck his cock?" Sheba instantly recoiled and became defensive. "Clarisse, I don't know what you think but..."she began but Clarisse cut her off with a wave. Clarisse walked up to where Sheba was sitting and sat down on the chair right next to her and put her face close to hers. "You don't really need to answer that," Clarisse almost whispered. "I already know the answer but it does get to the heart of what we are going to discuss this afternoon." "Me sucking your husband's cock," Sheba asked, more out of total incomprehension than anything else. "Yes, among other things," Clarisse responded "but it's apparent I may need to back things up a bit so that you can understand the situation and your place in it." "Yes, please, or I can go if I have somehow offended you," Sheba shot back, quickly as her fight or flight instincts told her to run like hell. On the other hand, another part of her brain chimed in, if Duncan's cock in her mouth was involved, we are all ears. Except the part that has a cock in our mouth, the voice in her head giggled. In the end, Sheba responded with near paralysis and waited like prey under the paw of a predator. Clarisse snapped Sheba out of her internal monologue by pointing to one of the lava rocks Sheba had been admiring. "One night last year, my husband came home extremely frisky," Clarisse said. "By that, I mean his penis was hard enough to hammer nails with and he was horny for that kind of dirty sex you're embarrassed to admit having the next day. It must have been contagious because, before long, he had me hot enough to join his lack of inhibitions. Some time during the evening, I ended up bent over that rock with Duncan spanking my ass, digging my thighs into that lava rock hard enough to leave marks and telling me he was going to fuck me like the whore I was and finally telling me to get on my knees and swallow his cum like a good little slut. " If Sheba wasn't paralyzed, her jaw would have dropped. And, if she were at home alone, she would have quickly had her hand under her skirt, desperate to find release from the very vivid scene Clarisse had just painted in her mind. "And, I was so excited that I did exactly that," Clarisse finished. "You'll note I am drinking wine so my interest in semen and cocksucking in general usually ranks just ahead of doing taxes and just behind folding laundry on most days." Sheba had no idea how to respond. It was probably not going to help her cause to say something like "Thanks for giving me masturbation material for a month, Mrs. Ward." And, her brain wasn't being real helpful in supplying alternatives. Thankfully, Clarisse saved her by continuing. "Duncan's and my sex life is good for married people I suppose but that evening definitely set new standards for us. And, I'll admit, it was something that I deeply wanted to repeat on a regular basis if possible. I never thought I liked dirty sex but it became apparent to me that I just didn't know what I liked until I had had a taste." Recovering from her initial shock, Sheba refound functioning brain cells and thought, "And why are you telling me this miss bitchy pants who obviously has a slutty side? Have you really had that much to drink that you are going for some drunken girl talk here?" No, Sheba thought, this woman is way more controlled and smarter than that and Clarisse's next words proved it. "Right now, you are asking why I am telling you this and what it has to do with you being here today," Clarisse said, reading her mind. "On both nights where we had dirty sex, Duncan had just come back from a haircut with you." The words rocked Sheba to the core and, once she absorbed them, excited her and stroked her ego immensely. I knew he wanted me, Sheba thought, and he settled for using you like he wants to use me. "I figured it out a few days after the second time," Clarisse went on "and, sure enough, we had dirty sex the next month, as well. It made me angry that he was obviously excited by you and probably even thinking of you. However, I also found myself counting the days until his haircut because I liked the sex as much as he did. But I also feared that Duncan was going to let this thing with you get out of control and that his urges would lead him outside our marriage." "Do you think Duncan is cheating on you with me," Sheba protested. "Because he isn't." Clarisse quickly raised a finger and placed them on Sheba's lips, firmly silencing her. A bolt of electricity went through Sheba's body and Sheba realized that this was the first time Clarisse had ever touched her and that that touch was one her body unconsciously yearned for. Clarisse then changed directions. "I have never had any illusions that Duncan would never cheat but I was also committed to making our marriage work. I knew our new lovemaking was an indicator that Duncan had found something so exciting that he was probably going to start acting stupidly. I had no interest in confrontation or divorce. And, I had no illusions that I could convince Duncan to just forget about whatever you awakened in him. More to the point, I liked what had been awakened. I just didn't want to end up divorced because of it." Now, Sheba finally understood. Understood why she was here and why Clarisse responded to her in the way she did. "Is that why you are always so....."Sheba started. "Such a bitch," Clarisse finished. "Yes, I suppose it's not surprising you think I am a bitch. Most people don't by the way but you do bring it out in me. Although I also think you like the bitch in me." "Excuse me," Sheba said, thrown off once again as Clarisse drove the conversation into the unknown and dangerous. "Let me help you understand a few things about the situation and what I know about you," Clarisse said. "That includes a lot of things you probably think I absolutely don't know. First, I am very smart and I have spent the past few months studying you. I'd be willing to bet money you have no panties on right now as a subtle way to spite bitchy me and/or give my husband a quick naughty peek with me in the room. Do you deny it?" Sheba's face went bright crimson but she didn't say a word. "It excites me that you don't have any panties on Sheba," Clarisse said. "In fact, in a few minutes, you're going to show me your pussy and offer it to me to do with it whatever I want." Sheba's mind argued this but her body did not. She suddenly found herself extremely excited at the thought of doing whatever this woman wanted. "I know you have made cautious but repeated attempts to get into my husband's pants," said Clarisse. "And I know exactly what he wants to do to you. Because, each night after his haircut, he comes home and does it to me, pushing me as far as he thinks I will go. And, I can feel the need for him to go farther if only he dares. And it isn't just him that wants to go farther." "Now that my husband has been, let's say infected, by you, I am convinced he will be compelled to explore a few things sexually in the next few years," Clarisse said. "For myself, I would dearly love to continue and expand the new sexual relationship we are having. But, and here is the most important thing, only if it doesn't erode our marriage." "Now the only question is whether you will admit it and are willing to discuss terms," Clarisse concluded and looked expectantly at Sheba who had no idea what to say. "Terms," she asked weakly. "My husband and I have both enjoyed your impact on our sex life," Clarisse said. "And we both have new interests that will almost certainly lead to wanting some sex outside the marriage bed. You put thoughts in our head and now we will be almost compelled to act, like scratching an itch. So, instead of going outside, I am inviting you into our bed." Sheba's Subjugation Ch. 01 "A threesome you mean," Sheba said, warming to the thought. "Yes, but a threesome where two of us are in control and one of us is a dirty little fuck slut who exists purely for our enjoyment. I first thought of this arrangement because it kept control in my hands. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that you would also prefer things that way." "How would you know that," Sheba asked defensively. She wouldn't argue the fact with herself but she was irked that Clarisse would claim to know her so well. Sheba waited for a response. And waited. The silence was killing her and she kept waiting to hear whatever supposed proof Clarisse claimed to have about her interests and attentions. But Clarisse merely sat calmly, inches from her face. And waited. Finally, Sheba broke and replied in a barely audible voice, "Yes." "Yes, what?" "Yes, I like being submissive." "And your role as described serving as a fuckslut for Duncan and I to use?" "Yes." "Yes, what?" "Yes, it excites me." "A few minutes ago, I told you that you would be taking off that dress and showing me what a slut you were," Clarisse said. "Fair warning, if you do so, I am going to play with your body and make you do things this afternoon to prove you are my willing little toy with no independent will. Do you understand?" "Yes," Sheba said, not even pausing to suggest any protest. "Then, decide Sheba," Clarisse said, putting her hand under her chin and making Sheba look directly into her eyes which were afire with aggression, sex and control. "Either get up and calmly walk to the door or stand in front to me and remove your dress." Slowly, her excitement so great that she felt almost outside of her own body, Sheba stood up and pulled first one arm out of the dress, then the other and then let it fall and pool around her feet. Sheba's Subjugation Ch. 02 As Sheba's dress fell to the ground, Clarisse felt her heart racing. Not just at the sight of Sheba's nude body although that was certainly exciting. No, it was the reality of the situation. A young woman stood completely open in front of her, ready to submit to her will. Even though she had planned for this moment, it was hard to accept this as something real rather than imagination. Suddenly, she was struggling not to be overwhelmed - she could feel panic attempting to assume the driver's seat in her brain - and act decisively. However, as always, she recovered quickly. Throughout her life, Clarisse had succeeded - and she rarely failed - by committing to her goals without the baggage of second thoughts, by meeting fear and doubt with ruthless determination. This was how Clarisse did everything in her life; in school, in sports, in her career as a lawyer, in her social life and in her roles as wife and mother. One of her closest friends had labeled her a "success junky", something Clarisse knew she would be foolish to argue. And, right now, her goal required that she very quickly establish her dominance over this young woman. How ironic, Clarisse thought to herself, since much of the excitement she felt was imagining how wonderful it would feel to be in Sheba's place right now. Maybe someday, she thought. But not today. ***** An afternoon breeze had broken the warmth of the summer day with a chill that traveled through Sheba's body like an electric charge. Goosebumps formed on her arms and legs and her nipples contracted into small pencil erasers sitting atop her quarter-sized areolas. The only thing wrong with this moment, Sheba thought, is that my body has no idea what to do. Her eyes couldn't decide where to look. Her arms and legs felt were unable to find a natural pose. Her body's awkwardness only increased as she felt the almost physical presence of Clarisse's gaze upon her. "Put your hands behind your back Sheba and look down at your body," Clarisse directed. Sheba immediately complied. Sheba could feel the tension in her body leave, an unfulfilled need for purpose and direction finally met. Sheba had always liked "take charge" types but, until now, she had never really understood how much her body or her nature was drawn to being controlled. Sheba found her body reacting in other ways as well. It wasn't just the cool breeze stiffening her nipples - there was a tightening ache to be touched - and she was now convinced her wetness had become visibly apparent. In fact, her labia had become so flushed that she could feel the throbbing with each heartbeat as blood coursed through her engorged lips. ***** Clarisse was amazed to see how eagerly Sheba responded to her command. It wasn't compliance but something more akin to need. Sheba didn't want to be told what to do, she seemed to need it like one needs air or food. Clarisse could see the tension leave Sheba's body and how obviously excited her body was to perform, like a thoroughbred finally allowed to race. Clarisse had planned a conquest of Sheba, the weak bowing to the strong, but was instead confronted with something far more....amazing. And frightening. Clarisse's own desires to submit derived from the level of control required in her life. Submission was a release from her need to win, her pathological nature to plan and having people lean on her too often and too much because she was "the dependable one". The few times her husband had been drunk enough or excited enough to dominate her sexually that way had been a paradise for her. However, she had had no idea what that need looked like until now. Wistfully, Clarisse banished the distraction of these thoughts. To succeed, she had to focus on her role; a role that would give her what she wanted while obviously giving Sheba something she wanted and maybe even needed, as well. She rose from her chair and slowly walked to Sheba. At least five or six inches than Sheba, Clarisse was soon casting a literal shadow as she approached. Then, slowly, Clarisse moved her right hand palm out up to Sheba's left breast which ranged in the 36D-range Clarisse guessed. The knuckles of her index and middle finger were to each side of the nipple and Clarisse began to squeeze her fingers, causing Sheba to moan quietly as she did so. Then, Clarisse's hand, still palm out, traveled down Sheba's body until her fingers began moved over her shaven pussy, between her legs and her middle finger sank deep inside. As she entered Sheba, she began hooking her finger back towards herself so that, from the tip to the base of her finger, she could feel Sheba's pubic bone through the wet and warm flesh. Clarisse tightened all along her finger until she had formed a virtual hook and then, exerting upward pressure on her arms, she began forcing Sheba onto her tiptoes. "You look good like this," Clarisse whispered into Sheba's ear as she looked down Sheba's body to her rounded ass and firm calves now highlighted by her position. "We'll have to make sure to keep you in heels as much as possible." Sheba's only response was a combination of moan and whimper. It was obvious that she was desperate for sexual release and that Clarisse's hand was creating a mixture of mild pain and stimulation that was only increasing the pressure to come. Clarisse held her like this for a full ten seconds before finally beginning to relieve Sheba. With her middle finger still holding her up, Clarisse moved her thumb up, slowly splitting the folds of Sheba's labia until her finger found her clitoris. The, she allowed her thumb to fall into a slow methodical rhythm of circles that quickly brought Sheba to the point of climax. Sheba's breathing became shallow but rapid and Clarisse now literally felt Sheba leaking down her hand. And then, when she knew even the slightest touch would provide Sheba with release, Clarisse froze her hand and then brought her face to Sheba's and and began kissing her. Clarisse's tongue entered Sheba's mouth, first playfully like a knowing lover's kiss where the tongue is used sparingly, like salt on a well-prepared dish. Then, the tongue began to probe aggressively, turning from kisses of passion to ones of dominance invading and claiming her. Finally, and only after that, Clarisse began slowly moving her thumb again while exerting even more pressure on her hooked middle finger to drag Sheba's even higher. In moments, Sheba arched her pelvis and began a long and uncontrolled orgasm punctuated by a combination of unintelligible words and moans that were smothered in Clarisse's hungry mouth. Finally, after she had completed her orgasm, Sheba's body sagged against Clarisse, her body limp from exhaustion and satisfaction. A feeling of triumph swept through Clarisse. **** Sheba's body was spent. The last of her convulsions had given way and she leaned against Clarisse's body drained of everything except contentment. Sheba could feel Clarisse slowly begin to extricate her hand from Sheba's pussy and she found herself tender where Clarisse had been grinding flesh against bone. At the time, the roughness had seemed like a very good idea, she smiled to herself. Besides, she had been sorer than this due to clumsy lovers. Indeed, Sheba had had plenty of lovers who liked to assume a dominant role in the bedroom but far too few who understood that dominance was about the careful and intelligent use of power, not brute force. Not that Sheba wasn't a fan of whips and chains -- she most definitely thought they had a place in the bedroom. However, she had had plenty of that in her life but rarely been as stimulated as she had just been. Once Clarisse had removed her right hand, her left hand moved to Sheba's shoulder and began pushing her down. Sheba didn't resist and, soon, she could feel the gritty concrete rubbing into her knees while her face was now inches away from Clarisse's pussy, although covered by the black yoga pants. Still she could smell Clarisse's scent -- a mix of vanilla and jasmine -- as well as an underlying muskier scent that told her Clarisse was herself very aroused. Sheba hooked her fingers into the top of Clarisse's pants and slowly drew them down. As she did, she revealed a well-patched pussy that surprised Sheba. For years, Sheba had either been shaven or had the barest strip of pubic hair and her occasional female lovers had been similarly shaven. Clarisse, on the other hand, had a deep triangle of pubic hair that completely obscured her pussy, and seemed to have only been trimmed where it ran into the legs. "Does the hair bother you Sheba," Clarisse asked, again reading her mind. "No," Sheba said honestly. In fact, the visual of juices glistening off of those hairs and the novelty of a hairy bush were extremely arousing for Sheba. "Do you think my husband would prefer me to shave it like yours," Clarisse asked. Sheba was nervous to answer. In her past flirtations with Clarisse's husband Duncan, they had had discussed Duncan's preference and he preferred completely shaven. "Yes, I think he would like it." "I asked him if he would and he said he didn't," Clarisse said. "Why do you think he said that, Sheba?" "I don't know," Sheba said honestly. "I think he was afraid to say yes because I am a good girl and we are supposed to be a good couple," Clarisse said. "While he can admit his interests and fantasies to you because you are a bad girl. However, I want to be his good wife and his bad girl and, like most things, I plan to get what I want. And, right now, I want you to lick my pussy. Just your mouth. Put your hands behind your back again." Clarisse's hand moved from Sheba's shoulder to the back of her head and began drawing Sheba into her. With her hands clasped behind her back, Sheba used her nose and tongue to part Clarisse's mound until she could place her tongue on Clarisse's clitoris. As she began to lick, swirl and suck , Clarisse's breathing became ragged and her hand began to grip Sheba's hair tighter. With slight pressure from her hands, Clarisse guided Sheba's tongue to exactly what she wanted and Sheba lost herself in the pleasure of giving pleasure. All to soon, Clarisse's back arched, she crushed Sheba's face into her and came loudly. Distantly, Sheba wondered whether Clarisse's neighbors could hear them. The thought excited her but she was pretty sure Clarisse would not have been as pleased. Her faced covered in juices from Clarisse and her knees now begin to ache from the friction with the concrrete, Sheba looked up into Calrisse's eyes which were still glazed with post orgasm bliss. Eventually, they regained focus and Clarisse looked down at Sheba. "That was very nice Sheba," Clarisse. "Thank you mistress," Sheba said, thinking the title would please this aspiring dominatrix. However, she grew concerned when she saw a frown appear on Clarisse's face. Did she do something wrong she wondered. Then, Clarisse laughed. "I've always hated the whole master/mistress thing in books and movies and, I suppose, reality although I have never explored that until now," said Clarisse. "It just seems so fake or forced, like you are just acting. Done right, it's too personal for that; more about needs than roles. I think we need something more personal if we are going to have titles and roles. Why don't you call me Cat?" "Cat," Sheba said more as a question than a statement. "It's a nickname I picked up when I was in grade school that few people use now and I have missed hearing it," Clarisse said. "Now I have a perfect little slut who can indulge me in my whims. Isn't that right Sheba?" "Yes Cat," Sheba now said with more confidence. People always confuse independence with confidence, Sheba thought. One is about doing what you want which too often fails to bring happiness. The other involves feeling comfortable playing your role because you trusted others to play theirs. And, Sheba dared to hope, she appeared to have found someone who could allow her to safely indulge her desire to give up control. "So if I am Cat, I suppose that would make you Mouse," Clarisse said with a wicked grin on her face. "Ooh, I like that. I have a mouse I can play with. So, Mouse,do you know what the cat does to the mouse when it is done playing?" Sheba was confused but quickly caught where Clarisse/Cat was going. "The Cat eats the mouse, Cat," Sheba stated with more than a little bit of question in its tone. "That's right, Mouse," Clarisse said. "Now, I want you to climb onto that lounge chair, lay back and drape your legs wide over the arms of the chair so that the cat can properly eat the mouse." Instantly, Sheba's heart began racing again and, over the next few minutes, she found that this cat, despite a lack of experience, was quite skilled in eating a mouse. Later - much later - Clarisse rose from between Sheba's legs, stood up and put out her hand. "Come on, mouse," she said. "Time to get cleaned up." Sheba's Subjugation Ch. 03 Sheba awoke, a bit out of sorts. She hadn't remembered nodding off. Or maybe passing out was a more accurate description, she thought. However, she did know why she had drifted off. The cushion she had been sitting on was now coated with a layer of her juices, her skin had a sheen of drying sweat and her pussy felt as if it had just run a marathon. She remembered fingers and tongues. One her skin, in her mouth, in her pussy, even in her ass. From her reclined position - if that's what you call legs spread wide over the arms of a wicker chair with your pussy and ass hanging over the edge, she thought - Sheba looked around the backyard looking for the woman who had put her and then left her in this state. She finally found her in the pool slowly gliding naked through the water, completing a series of slow laps. Just the sight of her excited Sheba. Tall, athletic and tan, Clarisse would have been described as Valkyrie-like if she had had larger breasts. However, Sheba had to admit that the smaller breasts - small "C"s, she guessed - suited her and gave her a lean and powerful figure that would have been masculine if it weren't offset by a very feminine face with beautiful eyes that could change from mischievous to aggressive in a heartbeat. Recovering from absolutely great sex in a beautiful home was a pretty good way to spend an afternoon, Sheba thought. And, even better, she would finally be fucking Clarisse's husband, Duncan, a fantasy she had been striving to make a reality for almost a year now. Amazingly, she'd be doing it with Clarisse's permission. Of course, it wouldn't be exactly as she had planned. She had fantasized about being the seductress, stealing Duncan away for some dirty, secret sex. Instead, she would probably be strapped to the bed when it happened and both husband and wife would be present and using her like a toy. Then again, Sheba was quickly warming to the left turn her seduction of Duncan had taken. Sheba had a pronounced submissive side and she had truly enjoyed the preview of what Clarisse apparently had in mind for her. In fact, the only problem Sheba could see was whether to tell her husband and, if she did, what she would tell him. Somehow "Hi honey, I met a nice couple who is going to use me like a whore" didn't seem like a conversation that would end well." Greg, her husband, was certainly understanding and they had even explored a little bit of her sexual wantonness by having another woman join their bed a few times. However, they both knew Sheba had scratches that Greg alone couldn't itch. He had even hinted - obliquely and with plenty of deniability - that he thought watching her with another man was a turn-on. However, they had never openly talked about it and so had not yet resolved what they were going to do about those "itches." As Sheba was contemplating her marital dilemma, Clarisse climbed out of the pool and made her way towards her. "What are you thinking about, Mouse" Clarisse asked, using the pet name she had given Sheba; a name that Sheba was beginning to enjoy more and more. "I was thinking about my husband and what I do with all of this." "That's a tough one," Clarisse said. "I knew you were married but I figured you either kept him in the dark or he liked your slutty side with other people." "I haven't really ever cheated on him," Sheba said defensively. Clarisse raised an eyebrow, daring Sheba to maintain her innocence. "Okay, I admit that I may have done some heavy flirting with guys not my husband and that I may have thought about more but..." "But you just hadn't actually done what you knew you'd end up doing," Clarisse finished. "Face it, Mouse. You're a slut. I may have maneuvered you into being my slut for my husband and I to use but you would have ended up in this situation regardless." The thought, and the truth of it, disturbed Sheba. "Enough moralizing," Clarisse said. "We'll figure out what you should do in time. For now, you need a shower so we can head out." "Where are we going?" "Shopping," Clarisse said with a very wicked smile. **** Sheba had dreamed of owning a shower like the one she had just used. It was like waterfall coming out of the ceiling in the center of the room surrounded by natural light from skylights and the opaque icecube-like blocks that formed one entire wall of the room. Definitely better than a plastic shower curtain and a rusty nozzle, she thought. Clarisse had told her she wanted a clean mouse and so, rather than allowing Sheba to clean herself, had produced a real sea sponge and some very abrasive soap and very rigorously scrubbed her entire body. It felt like entire layers of skin had been peeled off. Minutes later, her skin was still red but, she had to admit, she felt amazingly clean and energized from the scrubbing. Besides, she was soon distracted by an outfit Clarisse set out in front of her. It was a black pleated skirt that, along with the bone white blouse, screamed quality and probably cost as much as one of her monthly paychecks. The skirt covered, but just barely, the tops of black stockings that accompanied the outfit. As Sheba began to don the outfit, Clarisse placed a pair leather calf-high black leather boots with six-inch heels, and then moved in behind her. "It's nice to be the slut for rich people, isn't it" Clarisse asked as she zipped Sheba's skirt up in back. Sheba just purred and bent to slip on the boots. Clarisse herself was already dressed in short leather skirt with nylons and a set of sexy but less precarious heels and a loose fitting green silk top that revealed a transparent black bra underneath that was very distracting to Sheba. Like a schoolboy trying to sneak a peak, Sheba kept finding her eyes drawn to the frequent glimpses of it as Clarisse moved. She might not be as well endowed as Sheba or as young but, damn, the woman knew how to make up for it with style, Sheba thought.. "No panties, no bra for you, Mouse," Clarisse said. "And always in heels. Do you understand?" "Yes," Sheba said. "How did you know my sizes?" "A combination of observations and guesses." "Well, thank you," Sheba said, which resulted in a quizzical look from Clarisse. "I would say you are welcome but I think you misunderstand, Mouse," Clarisse said in a voice that was far cooler than it had been. "These clothes are not for you. I am dressing you like that for my pleasure and you will perform in that outfit for my pleasure. If I want you on your knees, if I want you to lift your skirt in public for me, if I want to rip that blouse off your body, I will. Do you understand?" "Yes, Cat," an abashed Sheba said. Then a smile came on Clarisse's face. "Now, having said that, I know everything I just threatened to do excites you and, as a woman, I am glad you appreciate the clothes. Now, do your makeup and meet me downstairs in ten minutes." **** Ten minutes later, Sheba came downstairs and met Clarisse at the door to the garage. Inside was Clarisse's car, a silver convertible SLR McLaren that looked like it could get a speeding ticket with the engine off. Sheba had always loved fast cars in a way that probably approached fetish. More than once, she had given a handjob or a blowjob to a guy with a fast car primarily because he had a fast car. Clarisse motioned Sheba into the car and they quickly left the suburbs on their way to the city. Clarisse was an excellent driver and a very aggressive one, driving well over the speed limit and dodging through traffic. When she wasn't shifting, Clarisse took time to absently play with Sheba. Soon, Sheba's blouse was completely unbuttoned and her skirt was hiked over her hips. In a sports car low to the ground, this lead to more than a few motorists getting an eyeful. Not much of one though at the speeds Clarisse was traveling, Sheba grinned to herself. As they exited the freeway, Sheba started to button her blouse and lower her skirt. "Did I tell you to do that Mouse," Clarisse asked. "No, Cat, but I..."Sheba said. "You were afraid someone might see? Well, don't worry about that possibility because it isn't. A possibility that is. This evening, having strangers ogle your naked breasts and pussy is a certainty." Sheba blushed; she liked showing off but this was definitely outside her comfort zone. She had little time to adjust, though, because Clarisse wasted no time putting her on display. At the next stoplight, two boys in a Jeep, probably from one of the local colleges, pulled up next to them and looked straight down at Sheba in her state of undress, including Clarisse's hand lazily playing with her pussy. When the light turned, Clarisse accelerated away and Sheba could see the boys high fiving in the side mirror. "Do you think those boys cocks are hard Mouse?" "I'd be surprised if they weren't, Cat." "I think you are right. It would explain why they are trying so hard to catch up with us now." Clarisse nodded in the rear-view mirror and Sheba looked over her shoulder in a combination of panic and excitement to the gaining vehicle. "I think if we catch them that you should suck their cocks." Sheba looked in shock at Clarisse. "What?" "They're excited and likely to do anything. I think they'd probably calm down enough not to rape us if you offer to suck their cocks right away." "Ummmm..." Sheba was at a loss for words, trying to decide whether Clarisse was serious or joking. The woman had an unnerving way of making it impossible to tell what she was really thinking most of the time. "Do you think they'll catch us?" "Are you worried, Mouse?" "A little." "How about excited?" "A little." "And now the most important question. Would you suck them both off if I told you to?" Sheba thought for a second and then said, "Yes." "Good answer, Mouse. And don't worry, those boys have no shot at catching us." At the next corner, Clarisse slung the car onto a side street without slowing down and then accelerated down the block until the two boys were nothing but a memory. *** Sheba had never heard of The Stockroom, their destination. As they pulled into the parking lot, Clarisse finally encouraged Sheba to put herself back together. However, Sheba was sure that her body would figure prominently in a few fantasies by some of the drivers they had passed. The outside of The Stockroom looked like a dozen other sex stores she'd driven by; a little seedy, a little depressing and basically the reason Sheba preferred to do her shopping online. However, upon setting foot in the place, Sheba realized that this was more than just a rundown place to nervously buy a vibrator or kinky movie. The first thing Sheba saw was a wall of nothing but whips and riding crops ranging from the ornate and elegant to some wickedly utilitarian ones. Ball gags, handcuffs, blindfolds, hoods and virtually every other type of bondage equipment seemed to be the bread and butter of this store. Scratch that, she thought. Sheba was willing to bet this store had every piece of bondage equipment on display, many being things she had never even heard of. Where in the hell had Clarisse learned about this place, Sheba wondered and was so curious she chose to ask. "A friend of mine told me this is the place to go if you're serious about bondage," Clarisse said. "See anything you like, Mouse?" Sheba found herself unable to articulate just how she felt about what she was seeing beyond excitement and shock. Sheba was just realizing, but very quickly, that she was going to be seriously used by Clarisse. And probably very soon. She really hadn't really prepared herself for just how far and how fast this thing was going beyond some absent thoughts. "Last chance to back out, Mouse," Clarisse said, sensing apprehension in Sheba's face. Sheba seriously thought about it. Strapped up. Blindfolded. Being whipped, probed and used. To this point, Sheba's experiences were limited to some spanking and having her hands restrained during sex. Still, fantasies of more than that had always excited her. She liked the whole "suck my cock now, bitch" thing but this was definitely much more that that. However, this was the real thing, with no apologies or hesitation. Finally she said, "I'm not backing out." "Good. Then I want you to pick your own riding crop out." "Excuse me?" "I like making you choose the instrument I am going to use on you and that you will know that you chose your own torture every time I use it." Sheba looked into Clarisse's eyes and realized she was very serious. She would either pick one out or they were done. There was no equivocation in those eyes - "back your words up with deeds or begone," they said. And Sheba realized that, despite some unease and insecurity, she very much did not want this to end. Unfortunately, Sheba had no idea what kind of crop she should pick. There didn't seem to be an introductory or starter version. Eventually, she gravitated to the leather ones because she loved the smell and the feel of the material. Whether she would like it as much after it started leaving red marks was something Sheba was not sure about. She wasn't even really sure whether it would excite her to have it used on her. Finally, she found a leather-braided cane with series of braided bulges on the end and a very short, whip-like tassel. Sheba pulled it out of the rack, turned to Clarisse and handed it to her. "Well, I suppose we should try it on," Clarisse deadpanned. "Lift your skirt up, Mouse." Sheba started to turn away from Clarisse to offer her ass but Clarisse placed the crop horizontally across her chest, stopping her abruptly. "No, no, Mouse. I want you to watch me your first time. We'll start with your thighs and I want you to watch what I do. Now lift your skirt." Nervously looking around, Sheba complied. The other patrons and the employees were ignoring them for now but Sheba wondered how long that would last. The crop now dropped slowly down her body until the tasseled head was on the inside of her left thigh. "Spread your legs wider," Clarisse said. Sheba did and then she felt the crop move quickly away and then suddenly strike her thigh. It stung and the surprise made Sheba jump. That was not exciting, Sheba thought. It just hurt. She wondered if she should tell Clarisse. "Wider." Sheba bent at the knees, separating her thighs even more. The crop found her right thigh this time. It hurt and the pain still wasn't really a turn on. However, the way Clarisse had commanded her and the way she had responded did excite her so asked was and soon she decided to wait and see where this was going. After a moment, the crop struck her left thigh again and then her right in quick succession. This time, along with the pain, Sheba did feel the stirrings of real arousal. The next strike was on her pussy and it hurt more, much more. It also sent a shiver through her body. She closed her eyes and lost herself in a series of confused feelings and emotions. Clarisse used the crop a dozen more times and worked the end of the crop around and just inside her pussy. "Well, I don't think we can return this now," Clarisse said as she eyed the now very wet end of the crop. "Do you think we should buy this, Mouse?" "Yes, please." For the first time in a while, Sheba looked around and realized that, as she suspected, Clarisse's attentions had not gone unnoticed. There was an obviously gay couple snickering to each other and a half dozen single men and one woman stealing glances at them. Sheba's face flushed red as she realized what they had just seen. However, she also felt the heat rising inside her. And, at that moment when things couldn't get any more surreal, her phone rang. She looked down at the screen. "Hubby" it said. She panicked and moved to push the Ignore button. She was definitely not in a place, figuratively or literally, to talk to her husband. "Who is it," Clarisse asked. "My husband." "Answer it." "But..." "Answer it and have a normal conversation, Mouse. He has no idea where you are and I find the deception delicious. Let's see how long you can deceive him. Of course, I don't plan to make it easy." So wrong. So hot. Those two thoughts raced through her mind at the same time. She pushed the Accept button and began talking to Greg. "Just wondering where you are, babe," Greg said. "You told me you had that appointment at the bitch's house but that was hours ago." Sheba cringed. The bitch was Clarisse, of course, and even Clarisse admitted she had acting bitchy towards her. However, she was now very embarrassed for calling her that. "Oh, I met up with Karen from work and we are out window shopping," Sheba lied. She stole a quick glance at Clarisse who was returning to her with several toys including a string of anal beads that were intimidatingly large. Clarisse grabbed Sheba's hand and led her to a private fitting room while Sheba attempted to maintain a normal conversation. There was no door on the fitting room, just fabric on a wire to pull across the opening so that heads and feet were still visible. Sheba had always loved the exhibitionist part of changing rooms like these but she wasn't sure it was going to provide the privacy they needed for what Clarisse apparently had in mind. Greg started talking about some work-related thing that was pissing him off. As she was listening, Clarisse pointed to Sheba's skirt and motioned her finger in an upward motion. Sheba knew what she wanted and, while holding the phone in her right hand, lifted her skirt with the left. Clarisse took a small vibrating egg-shaped vibrator with a cord on it and began rubbing it along her pussy. Sheba bit her lip and tightened her grip on her skirt to avoid making any sounds. It grew harder as Clarisse inserted the egg inside her and then used her long fingers to bury it deep inside her. Sheba was congratulating herself for her control until she realized that, somewhere along the way, she had completely lost track of the conversation with Greg. "So what do you think," Greg asked her. Sheba's attention was torn between trying to regain the thread of the conversation gracefully and watching Clarisse pick up the anal beads. The egg was now buried deep inside her and the only thing preventing her orgasm was that she was not going to be able to be quiet about it and was desperately fighting against it. "About what," she asked. "When do you think you'll be home and will you be in the mood to fool around or not," Greg asked. Sheba's body seriously considered answering that her pussy - and her ass and probably everything else - was probably going to need to take a break but her mind was screaming to find a more diplomatic if less truthful response. Clarisse chose to be especially unhelpful at this moment and turned Sheba around and used her strength to bend her over until she was leaning on the dressing stalls wooden bench seat with her free hand. As she started to give Greg an answer, the first of the beads, a quarter-inch diameter glass ball, started slowly sliding into her ass. "Oaahh. Ummmm," she stammered. She knew she needed to find the right answer. "And what did you have in mind? Something kinky?" "Sheba, not everything is a porn movie," Greg said. "Sometimes, we can just have sex without needing anything weird, you know." "I know," she said, while Clarisse was at the same moment inserting the second and third bead inside her. She was now pushing against the beads as Clarisse brought them to her ass. God, I am such a slut, she thought. "How about I suck your cock when I get home," she offered. "Is that normal enough for you?" "I'll never say no to that," Greg said. "When do you think that will be?" "No clue," Sheba said a bit rushed. She was now losing control and, soon, she wouldn't be able to hide what promised to be a loud orgasm. "Karen and I may go out afterward for drinks with some friends. I might call you later to see if you want to meet up with us." Sheba's Subjugation Ch. 04 Greg Lurray had just hung up the phone with his wife, Sheba, when something about that conversation began to irk him. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and tried to figure out what it was. He had been surprised Sheba wasn't home and hadn't at least called but that, sadly, wasn't unusual. She had seemed distracted but, again, not unusual especially if she was out with friends. And her risque comments about "something kinky" was vintage Sheba; the perfect storm of shock value and disinhibition. Then it hit him. Sheba had said she was out Karen from work. And, somewhere in his memory, he remembered that Karen took college courses on weekend nights. Sheba had complained about it because she and Karen used to often go out on Saturdays after work. Greg remembered he had been secretly pleased these "just us girls" evenings were now impossible. So, if she wasn't shopping with Karen, Greg thought, where was she? And who was she with? It was possible Karen had cut class, but Greg doubted it; he wasn't fond of Karen but he did admire her ambition and her commitment. There were other reasons for Greg's suspicious mind to doubt Sheba's story. Over the past few months, Greg knew he had passed beyond nosy and prying into the territory of paranoid husband. His fear was that Sheba was secretly with another man even though he knew with absolute certainty that Sheba loved him. In fact, Greg knew his suspicion had a lot more to do with him than anything Sheba had done. That which he feared was also something that excited him; Greg had no idea why the thought of Sheba with another man got him hard but it did. And, once the idea had planted itself in his mind, it grew and produced byproducts like his paranoia. He knew it would only get worse until he resolved these feelings but he wasn't willing to bring up this growing fascination with Sheba, partly out of embarrassment but mostly because he was afraid of the consequences. Greg wasn't sure he wanted things to get out of control and that's exactly what would happen if he encouraged Sheba in any way. But he was also less and less sure that he didn't want to let Sheba act out his fantasies. A few months ago, in yet another example of his suspicion, he had secretly loaded a program onto her phone so that he could read her texts and use GPS to know her location. He felt guilty but not enough to remove the software. Besides, her texts with one of her clients - whose house she had been at today, his paranoia screamed - were certainly racy but also indicated nothing more than flirtation was going. Should he have been more concerned, he now wondered. Was that who she was with right now? Finally, he couldn't stand it so he went to his laptop and pulled up the tracking program. After waiting a very long two minutes, the location appeared on a street map overlay. "What in the hell is my wife doing sixty miles away in the middle of the city," he wondered. He Googled her position for some clue; some low-end restaurants, various service shops, a motel (his heart skipped a beat and a store called The Stockroom. The motel scared him the most but he checked the unfamiliar store first and realized it was a much worse scenario. The Stockroom was a sex shop, he soon discovered from browsing its site, that specialized in bondage kink. This was a place Sheba would like, he thought, and an interest that Greg didn't really share. However, why wouldn't she tell me about it (because she knows it doesn't excite you like it does her, his mind answered) and who she was really with (the guy who is going to use that stuff on her in the motel next door, his runaway paranoia supplied helpfully). Greg had no idea what to do now. Should he call? Confront her? Sheba was a very good liar and Greg knew that would be foolish. Whatever she told him, he would still have doubts. As he tried to decide what to do, he started browsing through the items available on the site and began imagining them used on Sheba by another man. Then, he unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and began stroking himself off to a fantasy which started with a blindfolded Sheba kneeling with her hands bound behind her... ***** Sixty miles away, a bound Sheba, nearly naked and completely helpless, was being watched by a half dozen patrons of The Stockroom, a gay couple, two store employees and a very aroused Clarisse Duncan. With her ass on her heels, her legs spread wide and her breasts flowing over the top of the corset, the only thing not on display was Sheba's belly button. Walking across the store, Clarisse stumbled and almost fell when she finally saw Sheba. It was a view that could make one forget how to do things like walk or breathe or form complete sentences. Clarisse's submissive side was green with envy; the restraints, the mild pain being applied to Sheba's pussy and breasts and an outfit that accentuated Sheba's body while leaving it exposed to be played with in all the right areas. The plain white cotton panties pulled down to Sheba's ankles was the stroke of genius, though. They were so innocent and utilitarian by comparison and their use and positioning made the whole thing so much dirty; innocence being corrupted. Enlisting Chris's and Ben's assistance had indeed been her best decision in the questionable venture, she thought. Clarisse's own outfit was a leather catsuit with gloves and heeled boots encasing her entire body. On her head was a caplike-headgear with two immediately identifiable cat ears and her hair was slick with gel and pulled back in a high, tight ponytail with deep mascara around the eyes and blood-red lipstick being the only noticeable makeup. The boots and suit had been murder to get on - impossible until Chris had smiled and handed her a bottle of baby powder and helped spread it on the material - and she had felt herself panicking with something akin to claustrophobia until her body adjusted and the fabric warmed with her body's heat. Now, though, the smells and feel of the outfit left Clarisse very much in the mood for a serious session of master and servant. The heels of her boots clicked across the floor and Clarisse tried to ignore the patrons and employees who were watching while trying to appear too not have too much interest; the nearest was a man behind an aisle of vibrators that seemed to be so interesting that he had been staring at the same one - but really staring over it - for over five minutes now. "Hello, Mouse," Clarisse said when she finally reached Sheba. "Did you thank Chris for helping get you ready?" "Yes, I did Cat." Clarisse's mouth twitched in mirth, thinking of just how catlike she was at this moment. "Did you two chat about anything?" "Yes, we did." "And what did you talk about?" "Mostly, he explained a lot of stuff I didn't know and made me see how hard it is to be in charge." The answer surprised Clarisse. Being the dominant one was, in short, a pain in the ass. It was a thousand details, loads of responsibility and carefully executing everything. Without all that planning, it just wasn't near the turn-on for either the dominant or submissive party. Still, Clarisse smiled to herself, being the dominant one did have its rewards if you had inclinations in that direction and Clarisse was quickly finding that she enjoyed both sides. Knowing you were wielding so much power and that your actions were being deeply appreciated granted a special level of satisfaction and a caffeine-like boost to the ego and self-image. Right now, Clarisse's ego was flying high and she decided to keep it there by getting back to work rather than daydreaming. "I am sure that you've enjoyed your time in front of strangers, Mouse. However, this next part is going to be a bit more private so I fear you will need to say goodbye to your audience. Ben, be a dear and help our little Mouse to the room." Ben approached and lowered Sheba's hands and then unwound the rubber wraps and then slowly helped her rise. It was apparent that Sheba's legs, which had ached from her awkward position with her ass on her heels and her legs spread wide, had problems supporting her and her eyes were unfocused, possibly as she enjoyed the wonderful feeling of no longer being kept in such a painful position. Ben then pulled the white panties off and led/carried her to a door that opened into a small room with black drapes covering all four walls and several large industrial looking lights that reminding Sheba of a film shoot illuminating a table-like device in the middle of the room. Sheba's eyes took all of this in, much like a cornered animal assessing her situation. She was obviously excited but, equally apparent, there was some genuine concern, as well. In the middle of the room, a table, made of wood and about two feet wide and five feet long, had a large number of holes - used as anchor points for securing someone in various positions - and four short arms that would allow for arms and legs to be strapped down far away from the body if one chose. "Now, Mouse, I want you to lie down on your back in the middle of the table." Sheba attempted to follow her command but it was hard; the high heels and the burning and lingering numbness in her limbs made her ascent a somewhat awkward affair. "Now place your feet down flat and lift your ass high in the air." As Sheba complied, Ben slid a triangle of foam underneath her. "This foam piece is going to lift your pussy and ass into a position so that it is easy for me to play with. I hope you haven't forgotten the riding crop you picked out, Mouse, earlier because I have a feeling that may make an appearance again." Sheba nodded and her expression made it clear that she was not upset by the potential to relive that experience. "As you lower yourself down, you'll notice that this also places your head below your waist and that your breasts will want to fall up or to the side rather than down. That's very important. Do you know why, Mouse?" "No." Clarisse moved next to Sheba's now prone body and lightly brushed her hand on the lower half of Sheba's breasts. The light touch made Sheba jump. "The most sensitive part of your breast is not the nipple, Mouse. It's the underside where skin rubs against skin. So soft and so protected and so much fun to play with. I'd take off the corset and get to the really soft areas but it would be a crime to take you out of it now." Sheba's eyes showed that she now realized how much more she would feel a drop of wax if it fell on the soft skin Clarisse had just lightly touched. "Ben, since you are more skilled than I, would you tie her arms above her and then bind her legs so that her legs are spread as wide as you think she can stand?" Ben brought Sheba's hands together and tied them in a surprisingly decorative knot through a loop in the table above her head. He then pulled her right thigh out from her body, wrapped rope around her thigh and then strapped the free end to another loop in the table. He then repeated this with her left thigh. It was apparent from Sheba's face that her muscles were under some duress to have her legs spread that wide. Then, Ben wrapped Sheba's ankles just above the heels and firmly strapped them to the table. Clarisse marveled that Ben had accomplished the process in what seemed moments, that he had used the rope in a way that left her completely immobile but did not cut off circulation and that each knot and each curve of the rope looked like art more than a simple functional knot. "Very good, Mouse. You just allowed yourself to be rendered completely helpless. You must trust me very much. Because, right now, you don't have much choice about what happens to your body. Now that you can't really do anything about it, I suppose I should tell you one last thing before we start." Sheba's body tensed, this mysterious "one last thing" miraculously finding some part of her that was not already unsettled. "Ben is a very accomplished photographer who is close to completing a show on bondage. He only has a few places left to fill and he thought it would be nice to add some girl on girl visuals into the mix." Sheba's eyes shot to Ben, who was pulling out a high-end digital camera and a variety of lenses. As he did, she took in the lights, as well, which now made sense; the kind of lighting you need for photography. "Oh don't worry, Mouse. Nobody will recognize you." "What do you mean?" Clarisse produced a narrow leather mask, with form-fitting curves conforming to her face around her eyes and the bridge of her nose. She took the mask's silk ribbon cords and secured them around her head. Like Clarisse's cat mask, the article granted Sheba a miraculous and instantaneous anonymity. "And now let us begin, Mouse." *** Sheba tried to ignore the occasional shutter noises from Ben's camera and remain focused on Clarisse. The camera made her nervous but also excited her. As much as she liked the idea of people seeing her like this, she wanted even more to see herself as she was. She wondered whether Ben would give her prints of this session and thought of how delicious it would be to hang one I their bedroom to see if her husband Greg recognized her. "Mouse, have you ever had your breasts tortured?" Clarisse asked. "I don't think so. I have had my nipples played with roughly but I don't think that's what I mean." "No, it isn't." Sheba could see Clarisse move to a table which she had only barely glimpsed when she came in. Instantly though, she realized that the candles she had seen on it were not there just to set the mood like some romantic getaway; their purpose became all too clear to Sheba. Clarisse returned with a squat white candle about an inch high which had already formed a pool of melted wax on its top. "The wax from candles melts at different temperatures depending upon the kind of wax used and whether additives including those for color are included." Clarisse slowly began tipping the candle over and the pool of hot liquid began to slowly make its way over the edge. "This means that a droplet of wax will have a temperature that can vary greatly. This scientific information might seem boring to some but it does have very important ramifications should one be in a position where heated wax was falling onto sensitive skin." As she said the last word, a single drop of wax fell from the candle and landed on the tip of Clarisse's right fingertip. The sight riveted Sheba as she realized how exposed were and how much more sensitive they were than Clarisse's finger. She kept watching and, soon, Clarisse's entire finger was coated in a stalactite-like structure of wax surrounding her finger. "Some of these candles will be too hot for you, little Mouse, but we won't know which ones until we try them out. Kind of like Goldilocks and the three bears except with far more immediate consequences." Sheba's body tensed, imagining her breasts covered in a multicolored landscape of wax dots and painfully discovering that some of those drops were indeed "too hot". A primal urge to panic descended and she almost whimpered. Then, she relaxed, knowing that she was safe as long as Clarisse was here. She could not have explained to her other why she felt that way. She just knew that Clarisse would not let anything bad happen to her. Which is not to say she won't let anything hurt me, she thought. Clarisse's vivid description of what faced her had left very little doubt of that. And, like she had with the riding crop, Sheba wondered whether pain was her thing. It certainly wasn't one of her natural things - like fucking older guys, or loving having her ass played with or having sex in public places - but she did enjoy some of the underlying elements. Still, it was almost completely foreign territory for her. Then, Sheba felt the low heat as the candle began passing over the skin of her breasts. As it did, she realized the underside of her breast sensed the heat more intensely, validating Clarisse's previous statement. Both the candle and that thought riveted her attention on what was about to come. Her back arched in anticipation. Her arms and legs braced against the rope and she closed her hands into tight fists. And, she found, she was incredibly wet. Even prepared for it, the first drop of wax was a shock. Her body attempted to jump away but its options were limited. She bit her lip as the drop burned intensely for a moment and then slowly cooled. As it did, another drop fell, this one moving towards her nipple. Then another and another. Soon, she could feel the "X" shape that Clarisse had made in wax across her left nipple. "Would you like me to stop, Mouse?" "No." "Why?" "I'm not sure." "You may not know but your body seems to like something about it." Clarisse ran two fingers along Sheba's pussy, gathering some of the juice that had grown thick between her legs. Then, she placed the fingers in Sheba's mouth. Sheba licked them clean, finding she enjoyed tasting herself off of Clarisse's hand. Then the first wax droplet hit Sheba's right breast and she fought to control the pain again, clasping her hands and arching her back perversely upward which only brought the flame closer and made the drops hotter until another "X" shape had been formed. "Time for some color, Mouse. Are you ready?" A large part of her body said "Hell, No." However, there was a heat centered around her pussy that said "Yes, please." Like a boy with a stiff prick, Sheba listened to that heat. "I'm ready." The heat was indeed more intense and, unlike the straight lines Clarisse had drown before, these drops fell randomly which lessened and increased the pain in a way that Sheba couldn't explain. It just hurt more, and also less, when she couldn't anticipate the target. There was a momentary pause and then another drop. At first, it felt the same but then the drop didn't harden but instead dribbled down her breast. "Ice," she said quietly. "Yes, Mouse. Isn't it amazing how similar it felt to the wax? Do you know why?" "No." "Your skin has little sensors called thermoreceptors that identify temperature and interpret it for the body. However, when those temperatures become extreme and, especially when you mix the two, the result is that your those little sensors start send inaccurate information to the brain. Now, most importantly for you at this moment is what happens when hot and cold touch a receptor near the same place and at nearly the same time. Do you know what happens?" "No." And then, she felt two drops hit her breast and fire shot through her body. Sheba let out a cry that was very real and she swore that her skin must be on fire. "That is what happens. The sensor identifies the first extreme, classifying the drop or misclassifying it as hot or cold. Then, when a very different temperature extreme is introduced, it will often amplify the level of whatever it chose. In other words, your brain registered a pain so hot that it would certainly injure your body while, in fact, the temperatures was actually no hotter." Sheba understood that her body was not really burned but, blinded as she was, she could not verify this and her mind refused to accept that the heat was not something nearing the temperature of the sun. Then, a series of hot and cold droplets began falling over her entire breast area, but never so close together to cause the "scary fire" as Sheba came to think of the mix of hot and cold too close together. After the excruciating pain of the intensified drops, these were not only bearable but began to create a "good" feeling she felt in an area that registered after the "bad" pain was gone. Soon, she found her body liking the pain the pain because that meant it would soon feel that good feeling. Which all seemed really weird to Sheba on an intellectual level but she couldn't argue with how her body responded. Her body was now bathed in sweat like she had been circuit training for hours and she had spent minutes in that blissful arousal before a memorable climax.