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Fenella's Feelings

By: Calandria



Fenella McLeod was a respectable married lady. At least, she was married to a man who was – James liked to describe it – 'something in the city.' And her family was an old Scottish one, of impeccable lineage. It occasionally weighed heavy upon her, because she was twenty eight years of age, slim and attractive in a very Scottish way, with long, straight, silky black hair and high cheekbones, and fine skin.

Sex with James was usually pretty good, really, she had to say – maybe a bit lacking in variety, but after five years of marriage, not a cause for complaint. And yet......yet there was something missing, something she had difficulty in admitting, even to herself, and even thinking that she heard herself sounding like one of those letters to 'Cosmopolitan.'

Then one day, as these things are apt to do, things changed, all of a sudden. James had had to go in to work early, and his companion, Gareth, who lived in the next smart suburban street, had offered her a lift to work. He had a very snazzy little MGB – the latest model, which you had to virtually crawl in and out of. Fenella got into the car easily enough, smoothing her pleated skirt under her as she settled in the bucket seat, and they discussed all manner of things with ease on the way. When they arrived at her office, though, Gareth got out and sprinted around to open her door for her. There was no way she could manage the manoeuvre gracefully, and as she swung her long legs out of the low car, her skirt rode all the way up to her waist, and she remembered too late that she had neglected to put on a pair of panties that morning. In fact she seldom wore them in summer, as it was hot in her office, and she simply liked the feeling of the breeze above her stocking-tops.

Gareth's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he helped her out of the car, but she regained her composure, and kissed him lightly on the cheek, thanking him for the lift, for all the world as if he hadn't just had a first-class view of her hairy muff.

When she got into her office, Fenella was feeling strangely excited. Gareth's own excitement had somehow got to her, and she suddenly knew what it was, at least in part, that was missing from her life. For she had read about exhibitionism – never really given it much thought, except that she knew she liked wearing sexy clothes, that they gave her a bit of a 'lift.' But the buzz she felt from Gareth seeing her pussy was of a different order, and she knew she was going to make some changes from that day on.

There was, she thought, one possible problem. What would be her husband's reaction? But she remembered that he had made several comments about her refusal to shave her pussy (she had always refused because she knew it would be uncomfortable when the stubble grew back) and that gave her a few ideas.

That evening, she could hardly wait to get her clothes off, and take a soak in the bath. Then she lathered her pussy thoroughly with James' foam and set about it with a fresh razor, carefully taking off every vestige of hair from her cunt-lips and mound, and inspecting the results carefully in her little hand-mirror. She found herself getting moist as she manipulated her labia just a bit in order to remove the last scraps of hair, and let her fingers linger a bit longer around her eager clit before sighing and applying some aloe vera lotion, which action again aroused her just a little.

When James got home from work, she slowly opened her robe as he entered the lounge, and his eyes widened in surprise.

'Is it my birthday?' he asked.

'It's my new look,' she gave, as an answer, and he made a grab for her, as she swirled away from him coquettishly. But she let him catch up with her, and he soon had her pinned over the arm of the sofa, inserting himself between her legs as an urgent erection demanded attention.

'My, James,' she gasped, ' I should have shaved long ago!'

She had his fly open in an instant, and he wanted no delay, burying his shaft in her waiting vagina, whose agile muscles held him within its silken walls ass he pumped in and out, holding her arse cheeks in his strong hands. His urgency meant that he was soon through, and spending his seed in her with a shout that accompanied her own. It was a long time, she thought, since the two off them had climaxed simultaneously, and this had been good. Wow! Later, as she lay with James, he asked her why she had decided to shave now and she hinted at the subject of her mode of dress. He said he loved the idea of her going without underwear, when she suggested that, and there, she let the matter drop, considering she had gone far enough. 



That night she slept well, knowing now that James would be no problem for her new regime. The next morning, she went in to work with James, in his BMW, dressed, on the face of it, as usual, but she knew that under her short summer cotton dress and jacket, she was completely naked. She had, furthermore, chosen the highest stilettos she possessed, which gave her walk a sexy swing to it. In the car, James couldn't resist running his hand up her naked thigh, and tracing just the very start of her crack for a brief second. When she glanced at him, he was smiling.

Once in the office, she took off her jacket, and laid it over a chair. As it happened, she had to spend quite a bit of the day walking about the office-block, and eyes followed her everywhere as her small, pointed breasts jutted obviously against the thin cotton print of her dress, and jiggled prettily as she walked. Under this dress, nobody could have known she was without panties, but she was acutely aware of the fact herself, and kept imagining that everyone knew she was naked underneath. Her shaven pussy made her feel doubly vulnerable. She spent the whole morning in a state of arousal. 

At lunchtime, she went to a sandwich bar, and, while her sandwich was being made, she squatted on her haunches, to extract a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. As she did so, a young bank-clerk from a neighbouring block assumed a similar position opposite her to take out a bottle of something else, giving him a sudden, unexpected view of naked, clean-shaven cunt. In a comic display, he went bright red, stood up, took off his spectacles, and began polishing them furiously with a handkerchief. Fenella smiled sweetly at him as she went to pay for her purchases.

She liked her stilettos, and decided she ought to have another pair, so her next stop was a shoe-shop near the office. She sought out a young male assistant, and found a guy who seemed scarcely out of school, still showing traces of acne around his cheeks, but tall and broad-shouldered. She told him what she was looking for, and he was gone, leaving her on an upholstered seat in a quiet corner of the store. When he came back, he had a pair of strappy sandals, with a four-inch metallic heel.

'Mmmm, sexy,' said Fenella, and the lad laughed nervously, dropping onto one knee with his shoe-horn and the shoe at the ready. She put her foot up on to the stool provided and let him take her shoe off, making sure that her skirt rode up her thigh as he did so. My God, this was the most exciting thing – her juices were on the move! Almost involuntarily, her legs opened just a shade as he fitted the gorgeous shoe to her foot, and she wriggled her foot about in his hand, bending to 'help' him, and, in so doing, 'accidentally' catching her skirt and pulling it up just enough. Just enough that the youngster could see everything. He gulped as his eyes feasted on her naked, shaven pussy, and, glancing around the shop to see they were not being observed, she quickly transferred her foot to his crotch, where a monstrous erection was bulging the young assistant's trousers. There was nothing she would have liked more than to fuck him there and then, but it was not a practicable possibility. So, again glancing around to make sure nobody was looking, she reached down, unzipped him, and pulled out his long, throbbing cock. Two or three strokes from her long, sensitive fingers, and he came, in great, gushing spurts, all over the shoe-box he had left on the floor.

Mightily embarrassed now, he was relieved when she told him not to worry, and cleaned up the mess with tissues, then bought the shoes with her credit card. He watched her wistfully as she left the shop.

The afternoon passed uneventfully, but Fenella spent time reliving the events in the shoe-store, and found herself getting quite wet – so much so she started to worry that she might be leaving a damp patch on her chair.

Next day she wore a pale blue silk blouse. It was quite opaque, and not even tight, but when she walked, her breasts moved in a highly suggestive manner, and her nipples thrust against the soft silk so that their hardness could be seen very clearly. Below that she wore a pleated acrylic skirt, mid-thigh length, and black lace-top hold-ups, with the shoes she had bought the day before.

James looked at her as she got into the car. 'Are you sure you want to go to work? Or shall we just stay home and fuck?'

'When I get home, big boy,' she said.

The boss sent her halfway across London in a taxi to deliver some papers, and she saw the cabbie adjusting his mirror to take in her lower half. She smiled to herself when she realised that her skirt had ridden up, and the poor man had a tantalising view of her stocking-tops. She opened her legs just a shade, and let her skirt slide up a fraction more, then, feigning complete disinterest, and looking out of the window, let an idle hand play around the tops of her thighs, a finger straying into the beginnings of her crack. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the cabbie's sweating countenance. He was blinking twenty to the dozen, and she thought she had better desist before she caused an accident. 

Back in the office, the boss, whose name was George, called her in, and seemed more than happy with her 'new look.' In fact, he couldn't get enough of her. He was a fit-looking fifty-something, and had always been rather cool and distant with Fenella up until then, but now asked her if she would care to take lunch with him. She agreed.

They went to a small Italian restaurant just around the corner, and sat at a table which appeared to be his regular spot, as the waiters all knew him. Fenella ordered salad and a steak, whilst George plumped for crayfish and a veal concoction. When they had finished eating, and were relaxing over coffee, he looked at her over his cup, and said, 'I hope you don't mind me saying, but I've noticed something about you these last two days.'

'Oh?' she said, eyes teasing slightly.

'You have taken to dressing a bit more............'

'Sexily?' she supplied.

'As you put it like that,' he said, 'any reason, may I ask, or would that be impertinent?'

She smiled, and said, 'My life needed it, that's all, George.'

He suggested then that Fenella might be interested in working more closely with him, which hardly came as a surprise, and she gave her guarded agreement to this, especially as more money was mentioned. Her 'new look' was starting to pay off in more ways than one.

That evening James wanted to take her out to a pub they both liked, in a trendy area, near the river, so she decided to dress even more sexily for the occasion, and put on a white satin corset which left her nipples uncovered, but had the effect of pushing her tits up. She had to get James to help her lace it up tightly in the back, so that her waist was really constricted by its boning, but it was highly arched below, leaving her buttocks completely free. She fastened a pair of white stockings to the garter straps, then put on an almost completely transparent organdie blouse, and a translucent, layered, flared and frilled nylon miniskirt. She stepped into her recently purchased heels, and said to James, 'How do I look?'

For an answer, he pushed her up against the table, bending her over it, and lifted her skirt up around her waist. Brusquely, he felt her slit with his hand. It was soaking. 

'You're wet through,' he said.

'I know, it's the corset..........' She started to reply, but his erection was already pushing at her glistening portals, then thrusting its inexorable way into the depths of her willing cunt. She groaned as he buried himself in her, and he pumped her, right to the very neck of her womb, until he came in a great hot stream.

'Oh, my God, now I'll have to repair all my make-up,' she said.

'Shame,' he sympathised.

When she had carried out the necessary repairs, they went out, and, sure enough, Fenella was the object of much comment as they walked to the pub and once they were there, whenever she got up to go to the toilet. She wasn't sure if it was the restraint of the corset, the height of the heels, the transparency of her outfit, or a combination of all three, but she felt she could have any man she wanted, and as the evening wore on, one or two women as well.

Next day was Friday, and it was another day when James was unable to ferry her to her office. She disliked driving, and, anyway, was excited at the idea of Gareth again giving her a lift. This time she wore a black silk skirt, mid-thigh length, and a white silk blouse, with most of the buttons open, so that a lot of her unfettered cleavage could be seen. She had stuck with the same pair of heels, but resolved to go back to the store for another pair.

'Oh my God,' said Gareth, when he saw her, 'how the hell do I concentrate on driving?'

She smiled enigmatically, and he asked her what had brought about the change

'You did, dear,' she said, truthfully, and leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek.

'Fenella,' he said, 'I think you ought to explain that. I've got a hard-on like a stallion, and if that skirt rides up any higher, I'm going to need first aid.'

She looked at her watch. They were passing a quiet stretch of Surrey woodland.

'Turn in here,' she said, quickly, and he wasted no time in complying.

As he stopped the car by the side of two rubbish bins, she unclipped her seat-belt and turned to him. He was shaking with desire for her, and had her blouse completely unbuttoned in an instant. His hands cupped her breasts, and drew a gasp from her as he tweaked her long, hardening nipples between thumb and forefinger. She had his zipper down and groped around for the opening in his underpants, then his cock was in her hand. She admired its rampant length and rigid thickness for a moment, then took it slowly, ever so slowly, between her small white teeth, sucking hard at his glans, then moving her red lips down, down until she had taken him deep into her throat. When it seemed to Gareth that she couldn't possibly take any more of him, she took him still deeper. He had never had his cock sucked like this. As she did so, he ran his hands up her lovely legs, right to her beautiful shaven mound, and, as he felt the moisture welling up around her puffy labia, he knew he was about to shoot his load. When it came, it did so in a great, shuddering, heaving climax, and he spent his wad deep into her throat, where she swallowed every drop with relish, then licked him completely clean.

'Come on,' she said, then, looking at her watch, ' I've got to get to work.'

The day passed off normally, but Fenella enjoyed walking around the City at lunchtime now, letting the office-workers see the movement of her breasts. If she got the chance to give anyone a 'flash' of her pantiless cunt, she would do so, she thought, but to do that without offending normal ideals of decency, or beaking the law, was no easy matter.

Next day, Saturday, James was away on a hang-gliding weekend, and Fenella was to be left to her own devices. Before he went, she asked her husband what he thought to the idea of her getting pierced, and he seemed indifferent about it. She hadn't discussed details with him. She dressed in a pleated skirt, silk blouse, and heels, and got him to drop her at the station on his way, and caught the train into London, then went to the Notting Hill area, where she knew there were places where you could get these things done.

Hesitating on the pavement outside a shop advertising tattoos and piercing, she almost had second thoughts, but made up her mind and went in. A bored looking Goth girl in a tartan skirt with rings just about everywhere asked her what she wanted, and she told her she wanted a ring in her clitoris hood. The girl looked twice at her, as if in surprise that a woman dressed in a good skirt and blouse should be asking for such a thing, then waved her into the back room. A large, muscular guy in a black tee-shirt showed her various rings, and she chose a quiet large silver one, which she thought would fall nicely against her clit. The man went about his work in a businesslike way, expressing no surprise that she wore no panties, and the pain was only fleeting, as he pierced the flesh with his sterilised needle. But the feeling of the new weight there between her legs was quite novel, and was going to take some getting used to, even after the little sterile dressing he had given her was dispensed with.

She decided to spend the rest of the day shopping in the West End, and looked for clothes that would suit her latest craze. One challenge was to demonstrate that she was not wearing panties, whilst remaining, to all intents and purposes, decent. One idea was to wear a dress slit right up the side to the waist, and she spent a lot of time looking for such a garment, but no such thing was to be found. She did find an evening dress which consisted of just a front and a back, joined together by little clasps. It would have been impossible to wear panties with this – they would have shown – so she bought it, for far too much money. She also bought several skirts in very thin material, which were so tight and figure-hugging that any panty-line would have been obvious. They would knock 'em out at work, she thought. While she was at it, a top or two, similarly tight, were added.

When she got home, James phoned to say he was staying the night at his course venue, somewhere in Kent, and wouldn't be home until Sunday night, so Fenella busied herself around the house until Sunday evening.

When he arrived home, she was eager to show him her new ring, and he was amazed. They celebrated it with a fuck, of course.

Next morning was work again, and time to try a skin-tight outfit. She wriggled into a skirt so tight she was afraid she would not be able to zip it up, and it hugged her down to the knees like a second skin. When she turned and looked in the mirror, the cheeks of her arse were outlined as if she was naked. Then she pulled on the elastic material of the top, which was high-necked and long-sleeved, and moulded her tits almost indecently.

'I can't wear this, just like that,' she said to James.

For answer, he flicked her long dark hair over her shoulder, so that it fell in front of her breasts, then dropped a heavy coral necklace over her neck. She looked a bit more decent. She reflected upon how lucky she was that her husband was happy to have her exhibit herself so wantonly.

During the week, she visited the shoe-store once more, making sure that it was a day when she wore a short skirt. But she was disappointed that the young man didn't seem to be on duty – in fact there was no male assistant on at the time. She contented herself with one of the girls, a pretty little blonde. Fenella couldn't resist trying on a pair of thigh-boots, largely to gauge the assistant's reaction to her shaven pussy, which she was bound to see, when she tried the boots on.

The girl helped her ease the boots up her slender leg, and do up the zipper, and was face to face with Fenella's glistening quim, and the new, erotic, ring. She looked a question at Fenella, but said nothing, though it may or may not have been Fenella's imagination that the girl's hand stayed a little longer than was strictly necessary on her leg...........


Fenella's Feelings Flip



Everybody in this story is over eighteen. You should be too! Perhaps it will only make real sense if you have already read 'Fenella's Feelings' – an 'exhibitionist' story.

Fenella takes up her own story:-

My experience in the shoe-store, when the original, male, assistant wasn't around, and a pretty young girl helped me try on a pair of high-heeled, sexy boots, had got me thinking. I believe I mentioned that I thought there were 'avenues to explore.' Ever since I had discovered the sheer joy of going without panties, my shaven pussy feeling the breeze wafting round it, I had undergone a change. Then I had discovered many more pleasures, the joy of exhibiting the body I'm blessed with to the legal maximum, and watching its effect on those around me, then the less-easily-explained excitement I derived from sometimes wearing a very tight, restrictive skirt, or even a whale-boned corset, and uncomfortably high heels, or dangling jewellery. I had gone to the extreme of having a ring fitted into my clitoris-hood, and, now that the soreness had gone, its presence was a constant reminder of my sexuality. I thought it might be nice to dangle a little charm from it, but found, after one day, that I could concentrate on almost nothing else, so reluctantly abandoned it for the time being.

I digress. Back to the pretty girl in the shoe-store. I had never been with a woman, nor even contemplated doing so. James was not only a good provider (although I earned a good salary myself) he was a loving, attentive husband, and a very good fuck indeed. If I ever felt the need, neighbour Gareth, and George, my boss, were there with their tongues hanging out. I was not particularly moral in my attitudes, I know, but you only live once, and, anyway, I knew that James was not above shagging his secretary anyway. (In his shoes, I would have done the same thing – she was sensational)

Here I go, digressing again. I left the shoe-store and walked twice around the block. The girl's blue eyes had immensely long lashes, and she had long, pianist's fingers, with immaculate, long nails, painted bright pink. I couldn't help noticing a very odd feature indeed. She's had the little fingernail of her left hand drilled and a tiny ring fitted. From it, a delicate silver chain looped to a ring on the same finger. It must have got in her way when she was working. I could have kicked myself for not asking her about it. I wanted one fitted. It's funny how little things like that stick in your mind. 

I went back to the shoe-store, and sought out the same girl. I had to hang around picking up shoes and putting them down again while she finished with another customer. Then I said to her, probably a bit nervously, 'I'd like to try those boots on again, I think I've changed my mind.'

She smiled, so prettily, tossed her blonde hair back and went to fetch them, leaving me sitting on a bench in the corner of the store. She was soon back, kneeling in front of me. As she took out the boots, I asked her about her nail-decoration, and she flushed.

'Oh, that!' she said, 'I just like things.......things that....er dangle, you know.'

'Yes, I know,' I said, 'I think it's very pretty. What's your name?' 

'Karen,' she said, a little uncertainly.

'Mine's Fenella,' I said, 'after I've tried the boots, perhaps you'll tell me where I can get my nail done like that?'

'Of course,' she said.

I tried on the boots again, enjoying the feel of Karen's hands smoothing the fine leather up my legs, and announced that I'd take them. While I was paying she rummaged in her bag under the counter, but looked up, distressed.

'I'm sorry, Fenella, I can't find the card. But if you want me to take you to the shop tomorrow evening, I can do – they stay open late on Wednesdays.'

I arranged to meet my new friend next evening at seven, and told her I'd take her for a bite to eat afterwards. She looked like a cat who'd got the cream.

Next day, I took more than usual care about my dress. The weather was warm, and I thought I'd wear a summer dress. My colouring deserved white, and that's what it got. I chose a short, full-skirted silky dress, about mid-thigh length, the bodice giving a 'gathered' effect, showing a fair bit of cleavage. I pondered for a while whether to wear stockings, but it felt warm already when I was dressing, at eight in the morning, so I wore nothing at all except for my favourite silver stilettos. I put on a narrow gold choker, a pair of long matching pendant ear-rings and an ankle-chain. I was unaccountably nervous all day in the office, not even really appreciating the several hungry eyes that followed me around the corridors. The time came slowly around to seven o'clock, when I had arranged to meet Karen, just around the corner from her shop, and, sure enough, there she was, though I failed to recognise her at first. I had only seen her in the unbecoming blue overall of the shoe-store, and was unprepared for her breathtaking beauty. She had gone to infinite care with her honey-blonde hair, which she wore in an intricate style, caught up at the back with a black velvet ribbon. Long, heavy, silver pendants dangled from her ear-lobes. She wore a black mini-dress, rather shorter than mine, deeply cut out at the back, so that she can have been wearing no bra. She was bare-legged, like myself, and. also like me, had chosen to wear high heels, though hers were black patent. All this, I took in as I approached her from behind, before she was aware of my presence.

'Been waiting long?' I asked.

She whisked around in surprise, 'Oh no!' she said, then, looking at me, giggled.

'What's funny?' I wanted to know.

'We look like two chess-pieces,' she said, 'you know, black and white.'

'Black's move first!' I said, and could have kicked myself.

'I don't know why I said that,' I said, and realised I had probably turned a little pink.

She reached for my hand and squeezed it, 'It's alright,' was all she said, but there was an undercurrent between us now, a sexual connection that I sensed was going to have to be attended to.

We got into a taxi at the rank, and held hands again, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The hand I held was the one with the drilled nail, and I turned it over and looked at it.

'It really is lovely,' I said, for want of something to say, 'and I love your ear-rings too.'

'I said I like dangly things,' she said, and it was then that I noticed, for the first time, that she had a silver tongue stud. I mentioned it.

'Oh, that!' she said, 'I had that done a long time ago. Do you like it?'

I did, and was seized with an almost irresistible urge to kiss her, to feel the stud against my own tongue, but looked into her baby-blue eyes and weakly said, 'Yes, Karen, I think it's lovely.' 

My palms were sweaty as we reached our destination, rather trendy boutique in a good part of town.

I soon found out that what I had naïvely thought to be Karen's own nails were, of course, polymer false nails, but what the hell? I soon spent silly money on two sets of nails, which they fixed for me there and then, and had the left pinky one drilled, just like Karen's, with a chain looped around to a silver ring. I knew it would get in the way all the time, but would also be eye-catching. I bought a tiny drill, and a couple of tiny charms, so that I could fit other decorations in the future. Then I used my credit card to buy Karen an extra set of nails that she needed, despite her protests.

We had spent over an hour at the shop, and were getting hungry, so, as we were in a good area, I suggested we take in a wine-bar, and Karen happily agreed. 

When we entered the fairly busy, trendy place, heads turned, and I realised we looked good, but probably excited some comment, as we were still holding hands, as we had done all evening. 

'Smoking, or no smoking?' asked the girl.

'No smoking,' I said, automatically, then turned to Karen and apologised.

'It's OK,' she smiled, 'I don't!'

We were sat in a cosy, dimly-lit alcove, and ordered Caesar salad, lasagne and a bottle of Lambrusco. We ate and silence, enjoying the food, then sat with our wine. 

'Well,' she said, 'do you like your new decoration?'

'Oh yes!' I said, and our knees touched under the table. I wanted desperately, so desperately, for it to be deliberate. I moved my knee out of range, slightly, and there it was again, her knee brushed against mine. This time, I left my knee where it was, and her knee brushed mine with smooth certainty, and an unmistakeable pressure. She was smiling, and....and, yes, her tongue, with its arcane silver stud, slid out to moisten her lips. I knew some gesture in return was now called for, and, putting my hand under the table, felt for the knee that was against mine. Its smooth flesh felt lovely under my hand, and I stroked it gently, watching Karen's eyes. We had still never spoken a word beyond social graces.

Now her hand disappeared under the table, and I felt its coolness on my knee. But she was bolder, and her hand slid up my thigh, pushing up the silky hem of my dress. I slid lower in my seat, and my legs had a mind of their own as they parted to allow her to gain access to my naked, shaven pussy. 

'Karen, we shouldn't, darling,' I managed to say, in a shaky voice, 'not here!' 

'But you're soaking!' she whispered, and withdrew her hand, having done no more than run it around my pussy-lips. 

'Is there somewhere we can go?' I heard myself ask.

'We can go to my flat – it's not far,' she said.

I paid with my credit card, in a kind of daze, and let Karen call a cab while I went and looked searchingly at myself in the ladies' room mirror. I looked back, seemingly the same old Fenella, so I fiddled about with my make-up, and tried not to think about what I was doing.

When I got out to the front of the wine-bar, Karen pressed my hand, and said prosaically, 'taxi won't be a minute.' It wasn't, and five minutes later we pulled up outside a newish block of flats, and Karen opened the front door with her key. We rode up to the fourth floor, and I found myself in her one-bedroomed apartment. I looked around. It was neat and clean, Monet prints on the wall, lots of artificial flowers and sweet smelling pot-pourri, medium-range furniture with lots of cushions and a home-gym in one corner.

'Like a drink?' asked Karen, as she closed the damask curtains over the big window, but I was right behind her, and taking hold of her arm, turned her to face me, and said, 'Later, perhaps!' I needed to taste her lips, to see what it was like to kiss a woman for the very first time, and I crushed my lips to hers, feeling her instant, urgent response, as her tongue darted into my mouth, the stud near its tip seeking out my own tongue, probing around the roof of my mouth, passionately wanting me. Her body moulded against mine, and I knew then that our kiss was no more than an overture, that I had to explore her body, know the joy of having her know every inch of mine.

'I've never kissed a woman before, Karen,' I told her, 'never!'

'I hope it will have been worth waiting for,' she said, then, 'sit down on the sofa, while I put some music on.'

I made no protest, and she put a Lionel Ritchie CD on the player, which I thought slightly odd for someone so young. I wondered if she wanted me to dance, but she motioned me to stay where I was, and started to gyrate slowly in front of me. It was the most sensual dance I had ever seen in my life. She ran her hands up and down her slim body, now pushing the hem of her dress up to her waist so that I had a glimpse of black lace panties, now outside her dress, tracing the curves of her body. After what seemed an age, she reached under the hem of her dress, and started to ease the panties down over her hips, slowly, painfully slowly, then down, down, until she had them around her knees, her calves, her ankles, then kicked them off her shoes into my lap. I buried my face in them, tasting her musky perfume. I was hot, and soaking wet.

She pushed the dress down from her shoulders, again teasing me with the slowness of actions. I wanted to see her breasts, the firm sharpness of which I had felt pushed against me, and she now caressed them under the material of her dress, before finally pushing the black material down, over her hips, and letting it fall to the floor.

'Karen, you're magnificent!' I said, and meant it. She had small, almost adolescent-looking, pointed breasts, with puffy nipples, just asking to be sucked and played with. They were not, in fact, that much smaller than my own. She had a pierced navel, from which hung a double chain at least four inches long, with stones at the ends, and her pussy, like mine, was clean-shaven, but whereas I had a ring through my clit-hood, she had a tattoo – a mermaid curling around her upper thigh.

'Come to the bedroom now, darling,' she said, 'and let me undress you.'

Meekly, my knees trembling, I got to my feet, and let hr lead me by the hand to her neat bedroom, which sported a double bed, crisp white linen sheets, already turned back. It crossed my mind that she had anticipated my visit.

She kissed me again, and as she did so, I fondle her tits, loving the firm, spiky touch of her nipples. She groaned from the back off her throat, and reached behind my neck, unfastening and unzipping my dress. She pulled it impatiently off my shoulders, and let it fall in a whisper of silk to the floor around my stilettos. I was naked but for my gold choker, ear-rings and anklet.

Karen stepped back a pace to look at me. 

'I've wanted to see you like this ever since I first saw you, Fenella,' she said, 'and that's long before you first saw me!'

I felt more nervous then, than on my first time with a boy, way back when I was, I suppose, about fifteen, and Karen could see I was shaking as she led me to her bed.

'It really is your first time, darling, isn't it?' she said, 'just lay back and let me show you!'

Obediently, I swung my legs up onto the bed, and Karen got up beside me, prising my legs apart, though I needed little encouragement. 

'My, you're so wet,' she said, as she felt my pussy, and I gradually relaxed letting my legs fall wide apart.

'That's better,' she said, and I felt two fingers go deep into my sopping cunt. Then her lovely blonde head went down between my legs, and there was a slurping noise as she lapped me, tongued me with all her youthful vigour, driving her tongue deep into my cunt at each stroke. When she could tell I was on the verge of cumming, as I writhed and bucked and moaned, she quite suddenly bit my clitoris hard, pulling the hood aside by its ring, and I came in a huge and glorious flood.

'God, you squirted!' she said, 'that's tremendous! Now it's my turn, darling.'

'Wait just a moment,' I told her, and needed to come down for just a few beats, but she was not to be denied for long, and was soon rubbing the length of her gorgeous young body up and down mine, so that I was desperate to explore her neat pink pussy.

Unlike me, she opened her legs wide at the outset, and putting a hand between her legs, displayed her cunt for me by stretching her labia wide with two fingers. I immediately plunged my tongue as deep as it would go, and she thrashed about as If she had been whipped. With my fingers I pinched her clit, and she moaned, an animal sound, as I lapped her, and again thrust my tongue deep into her sweet fuckhole. When I felt her breathing quicken and knew her orgasm was about to explode, I rammed a finger hard up her arsehole, and he screamed as the climax hit her. And I had another orgasm, at the same time, for Christ's sake.

When we had both just about recovered, I said, 'That drink wouldn't go amiss now, darling!'

We sat naked and drank Scotch, and Karen said, 'I must say you're not bad for a first-timer!'

'You sound like you're a confirmed Lesbian,' I said, fishing.

'I don't go with men,' she said, 'and you're not the first, but I'm particular.'

I left it at that for then, and we arranged to meet again three days later, on Saturday, as Karen had a rare Saturday off, and I knew James wouldn't mind me disappearing with the car, as he was playing rugby, and would be out all day.

James was, in fact, a lamb, and didn't seem to notice my late arrival home, or make any comment next morning at my muttered excuse about the 'office do' that 'went on a bit.'

We made love – no, correct that, he fucked me – a couple of times before the weekend. Although my juices ran, genuinely enough, at least on one of those occasions, my mind was elsewhere, an image of Karen's perfect young body and her sweet pink pussy, as she writhed beneath me, bringing me to my climax.

'Penny for 'em?' said James as I sat cradling a coffee cup, on that Friday morning.

'You'd be wasting your money,' I lied, 'I was wondering what I might get for dinner.'

The fact was, my mind was in turmoil, and more than once, at work, I caught myself speculating about Dana, a new recruit to the typing pool. She was a leggy Eurasian, scarcely turned twenty, with a long, silken mane of black hair, which came almost precisely to the hem of the tight little miniskirts she wore. She had a tiny diamond glinting at the side of her aristocratic nose, and smiled shyly, showing a row of even, white teeth. What was it with me? For the adult part of my twenty-eight years, I had never countenanced the thought of touching another woman, not even during my schooldays either, when I knew that some of my friends had tried out 'little experiments.' Then suddenly I had discovered the joys of exhibitionism, finding pleasure in showing off my body – but what had led to this.......this sudden urge?

But then, was it so sudden? If I thought back a bit, I remembered last year's Christmas dance at James' firm, when I'd first suspected he was screwing Tania, his secretary – hadn't I been attracted to her myself, if I really explored my feelings? Shit, this was all a bit deep.

Saturday came around, and I slipped into a summer dress, a cool, halter-neck cotton print job, showing a good deal of leg. I drove around to Karen's in the BMW, and tooted. My heart leapt as she skipped down the few steps from her block – she looked heavenly in a sixties-style silk skirt, with stiff petticoats underneath, and a tight tank-top, through which the shape of her sharp little breasts could be seen perfectly. She hopped in beside me, and we compared left little fingers to show each other that we had our decorations in place. I turned to kiss her, and electricity coursed through my body in a way nobody else had ever made it happen.

'Oh Karen, darling,' I said, 'I want to fuck you, eat your pussy, right now!' 

'Me too,' she said, 'but it will be all the more delicious for waiting, won't it?'

My skirt had ridden up, and as we drove out of town, Karen stroked my leg, and said, 'Don't you mind people seeing so much of you – from lorries and things, I mean?'

'No, darling,' I said, 'it turns me on, in fact.'

'I suppose that's why I saw your pussy in the shop?'

I smiled, 'I've become an exhibitionist, Karen, but since I met you, well, I don't know what's happened to me, I really don't!'

'Don't fight it,' she said, then sat quietly, stroking my leg gently. I noticed with amusement that she, too, hitched the hem of her short skirt up a little, not to be outdone, and paid more attention to passing vehicles. Finally, she asked me where I was taking her.

'Thought you'd never ask,' I said, 'I thought we might go to the Greenstone Centre. There's something I've seen there that I'd like to buy you.'

It was a huge, out-of-town shopping centre, with lots of 'discount outlets.'

We parked on the huge lot, and I led her to an enormous textile store, where I made straight for the bed-linen department. Half-heartedly she protested, when I bought her a set of black satin sheets and pillowcases, but she was thrilled, never having owned anything so luxurious.




Fenella's Feelings Flip



'I hope we can baptise them!' I said, not realising the salesgirl was still within earshot, and we giggled like schoolgirls as we made our way to the coffee bar.

After we had had a relaxed coffee, we did the round of the clothes, but I was only really interested in a good lingerie boutique.

'I want to get us matching sets,' I said, 'how about black and white?'

'What,' she asked, 'bra and panties?'

'God, no,' I said, 'a sexy nightie and negligee!'

'Just as well,' she said, 'because I don't wear bras, and I haven't seen you in either bra or panties. But no, I don't think I want black. You look lovely in white, but could I have pale blue?'

She was riffling through racks of gorgeous flimsy nightwear as she spoke, and lifted out a model she liked. The negligee was floor-length, sheer, with a lacy bodice, and the nightdress was about hip-length, equally sheer, with spaghetti straps.

'I'll ask if they have that in white as well,' I said, and, sure enough, they had, so the deal was done. 

Apart from some ear-rings, and a waist-chain I wanted, we bought nothing else, and drove off to find a country pub for some lunch.

As I was driving, I could only drink a shandy, but Karen had a couple of glasses of wine, which seemed to loosen her tongue, and she looked at me with her lovely blue eyes very seriously, as if she couldn't make up her mind to say something, then, putting her hand on mine, she looked around to see no-one was near and then said, very quietly, 'You did something to me the other night that hurt me quite a bit.'

I felt awful, and spluttered, 'I'm so sorry, Karen, but what was it, tell me?'

'No,no, I was about to say, it hurt me, but excited me tremendously, and nobody has ever done anything like that to me before.'

I had an idea what she was talking about. 'Was it when I fingered your back passage?' I whispered.

She nodded.

'You probably need a man, after all,' I suggested.

She looked scornful. 'I've got quite a toy-box,' she said, 'I'll show you later.'

'Mmmm,' I said, 'I can't wait. And you can try on your new negligee for me!'

'And I'll put the new sheets on,' she said.

We had a half-hearted run around the country lanes, but were both eager to get back to 

Karen's, and we even embraced in the lift on the way up to her apartment, her tongue darting into my mouth, its stud probing and clicking against the back of my teeth.

When we got into her door, she immediately emptied out our shopping bags, and said, 'You go and get ready in the bathroom, darling. Take your time, because I've got to make the bed as well.'

I took my own shopping into her neat, fragrant little bathroom, and stripped off my dress. I took a good look at myself in the mirror, and decided to try for a few minor improvements, as I had plenty of time. I found the chain I had bought, a pretty, fine, gold-plated one, with little stones set at intervals, and a loose end which would dangle provocatively around my mons, and cinched it loosely around my waist. Rummaging in my make-up, I found rouge, and applied some to my nipples and aureola, and a little to my labia as well. Whilst I was dwelling there, I had another idea, and, picking out one of the ear-rings I had bought, I found I could easily detach the pendant portion from the part that went into the piercing in my ear-lobe. With a little care, I was soon able to attach it to the ring in my clit-hood. When I did a circuit of the bathroom with it in place, its unaccustomed weight and sexy movement had my juices welling up in an instant. I slipped the virginal white nightgown over my head, and looked again in the mirror. It came down almost precisely to my pussy, so that the obscene ornament dangled below its hem. I liked it, and put on the negligee, which caressed my skin like a lover. When I couldn't resist a further look in the mirror, I saw that its transparency hid very little, and all that remained was to brush my hair and repair my lipstick.

But Karen was impatient, and rapped on the door.

'Making your will in there?' she asked.

I emerged, and she was stood by the bed, a vision of loveliness, so that I wondered what I had ever seen in men – their hairy arses, big clumsy hands all over me, great smelly things they were!

Karen was just fantastic, her blue eyes matched by the sky-blue of her negligee, which was open, to reveal the sheerness of her nightgown, through which her erect, pert nipples poked in a blatant invitation. She held her arms out to me, and I enfolded her in an embrace I never wanted to end, bending then to suck her nipples through the thin gown, their sensitivity drawing deep moans from her throat. Her hand went to my pussy, and encountered my home-made decoration.

'You've got a dangler!' she breathed, 'you know that's what I like.'

I led her to her bed, and we sat down on its edge, sampling for the first time the cool slickness of her new satin sheets, and helped each other out of our negligees. I turned her around, and flipped over into a '69' position, diving straight into the sweetness of her pink slit, and feeling her return the complement. We lapped each other with all the expertise of real veteran lesbians, tweaking our respective clits with our fingers at each stroke of our tongues. Our rhythms were very similar, and as her breathing increased in tempo, so did mine, until I knew an orgasm was fast approaching. 

'Oh Karen,' I found time to say, 'I'm cumming, darling, I'm cumming!' And her tongue plunged deep into my soaking cunt one more time to bring me off. She was close behind, and I knew that her clitoris was the key. I bit down hard on it one last time, and she screamed as she too knew the ecstasy of the afternoon's first climax.

We stripped off our nightgowns, which were now sweaty, and sat in our beautiful new negligees, having a long cool drink of lemonade, and watching a tennis match, on Karen's sofa.

'Sharapova's nice, isn't she?' said Karen.

I'd been thinking along the same lines. Fuck, what was going on with me? What of my marriage? My mind was all fucked up, and all I could do for now was 'go with the flow.'

Karen stood up. 'Like another?' she said, brandishing her lemonade glass.

I shook my head no.

She picked up my glass too and headed for the kitchen. I felt, rather than saw, her come back, and she was behind the sofa, her arms over my shoulders, hands cupping my breasts through the lace of my negligee. My breasts have always been incredibly sensitive, and I love having them kneaded, my nipples touched and pulled until they harden, which they do very quickly. 

'If you do that,' I told her, 'you'll soon have me back in bed.'

'Oh dear,' she said, 'that wouldn't do!'

I stood up, and held out my hand to her. She took it readily, and we walked to the bedroom hand-in-hand, her blonde head on my shoulder.

'Wait a moment,' she said, as I sat on the bed, and she knelt by the bed, and dragged a long wooden box from underneath, opening the lid, away from me. She started to take things out, but when I made to look around and see what else was in there, she snapped the lid down, and simply threw several things onto the bed.

'What's up,' I asked, 'got the crown jewels in there?'

'Oh, just some private stuff,' she muttered quickly, but she was flushed and I could see clearly I wasn't supposed to pry into the further contents of her 'toy-box.' 

What she had put on the bed, however, was interesting enough to be going on with, and my eyes widened when she showed me what she had taken out. There were two vibrators, one small, and silver, and the other a huge, flesh-coloured one, as well as a long, flexible, double-ended dildo, and a pink string with five yellow balls at intervals, all about the size of ping-pong balls, and a loop at one end.

Karen showed me them with something like pride – she said she had plucked up the courage to buy them all from the local sex shop, resisting the stares of all the male customers. I couldn't help but laugh at the image it conjured up.

But she was looking at me with big, serious eyes, and said, 'Fenella, 'I want you to help me with what we talked about before.'

I told her that before I had anal sex, I had walked about for a few days with a butt-plug in, but suggested that the string of balls may do as well.

'Oooh,' she said, 'I've had them in my pussy all afternoon once, and I came twice, right there, while I walked about in the shop, but I'd never get them in my arsehole!'

'Yes, you will, darling, you'll see!' I said, and meanwhile I stroked her body, from neck to hip, enjoying how her negligee seemed to emphasise her nudity, rather than conceal it. I kissed her nipples, which invited just that, and she squirmed and moaned as I did it, saying, 'Oh Fenella, I'm in heaven when you play with my tits.'

Her pussy was now wet through when I felt it, and I reached for the slim metallic vibrator. I eased it slowly and gently into the waiting chasm of her cunt, which seemed to suck it greedily into it innermost depths. But I was only wanting to use her own juices to lubricate the thin tube – my husband had long ago taught me that it was better than any artificial lubricant. I withdrew it and, sliding a pillow under her buttocks, prised her slender legs further apart. 

First I got down between her legs and used my tongue to lick all around the tiny little puckered, virgin, hole of her arse, and then I poked with my tongue as hard as I could right into her anus. She writhed with delight, and said, 'Ooooh, Fenella, yessss!'

Instead of inserting a finger, I turned straight to the slim dildo, and, checking that it was nicely slippery with her juices, I introduced its very tip into the portals of her rectum, wiggling it slightly.

'Oh, that's cold!' she said, then, 'ah,' as I pushed it in a couple of inches without further delay.

'It feels so big,' she said, but before she had chance to say any more I had it up to and past her sphincter, and knew that she was experiencing the agony and ecstasy of that first time, when I well remembered that my arsehole had felt it just couldn't stand the cruel penetration, yet didn't want it ever to end. I now drove the dido in to its limits, and, hoping it had a battery in, turned the knurled knob at its end. Sure enough, it started to buzz, and Karen's breathing went off the scale, as she bucked and threw her head from side to side, grabbing my hair by the handful as she did so.

'Oh, oh, oh,' she yelled, and I knew she had cum, without even checking, but when I had pulled the vibrator out of her arsehole, she reached for a towel she kept in her bedside table, and sheepishly mopped herself dry.

We lay in each others' arms for a long time, and it was growing dusk outside when she said, 'This afternoon's hardly been fair on you, has it?'

'I've enjoyed giving you so much pleasure, my darling,' I said, and meant it.

'Let's try my other toy, shall we?' she said, looking at me mischievously in the twilight, 'if you want to, that is?'

I knew which one she meant, but she waved it in front of me anyway – the long, flexible, double-ender.

Without waiting for an answer, she traced my body with her tongue, encircling my tits, then down, down across my flat stomach, until she teased me by stopping just short of my pussy, taking my dangling ornament between her teeth, then licking my clit until it stood to attention and my wetness asserted itself again. Her lively tongue now traced the outer lips of my sex, the sensitive region between my pussy and my anus, then my arsehole itself, which she knew I loved. Much bigger than hers, her tongue slipped readily into its dark cave, and I moaned with pleasure as she simultaneously thrust two fingers hard into my cunt.

'Oh, Karen, please,' I said, I can't take much more, today!'

She took hold of the double-ender and fed one end into me. It felt like a real cock, big and thick. As Karen manipulated and pushed the huge dick into me, her long nails grazed against my labia, and I felt her little chain brush against me.

'You too,' I breathed, and, with the agility of youth, she flipped her leg over and straddled me. 

'Show me your cunt, darling,' I said, my breath now coming in gasps as she worked the surrogate prick in and out of my sopping vagina.

She knew what I wanted, and let go of the dildo for long enough to put both hands to her cunt, and stretch her lips wide apart, so that I could see her yawning pink pussy in all its glistening, wet glory.

'Mmm,' I said, 'that's lovely, darling.' 

I took hold of the free end of the dildo, and poked it gently into her. She took it from me and fed it inside her hungrily, easing her hips towards me, which had the effect of pushing the dildo deep, deep into me – and into her to, I guess, as we both said, 'Oh' at once. 

We quickly got into a rhythm, and were soon fucking each other with more energy than I thought I had left. It was a lovely experience, my first time fucking with another woman, looking into her lovely face as we felt our bodies mingle and join in what was true womanly love.

Because the dildo was so flexible, Karen was able to use her own agility again to move over me, into something like a 'missionary' position, so that she could suck my tits, and kiss me. She loved my tongue stud, and when I used it on her nipples, she started to moan harder.

'Oh Fenella, I'm cumming, I'm, cumming, ' she said, and finally screamed as I gave her one fierce push on the dildo.

'Give me the other one!' I told he, and she understood immediately. She sat up, the double-ender still connecting us, and reached for the slim metal-finished vibrator.

I nodded and she made room by lifting her leg slightly, then, locating my anus, rammed the tube home, straight up my arsehole, to its limit.

'Oh Christ,' I said, 'that's heaven. Now turn it on, darling.'

She did so, flooding me with its warm vibration. I was, in any case, very close to another climax, and came in a great, surging wave.

Totally expended, we lay in each others' arms, until I knew I had to go home. 

Sunday came and went. Karen phoned me on Monday morning at work, and we met for lunch on the Tuesday, but when I suggested that I came around to see her the next evening, being James' night at the rugby club, she said she had another engagement, and was quite evasive about it, so we left it at that, and I went away feeling a bit snubbed, without making any sort of arrangement to meet. We parted with a cool peck on the cheek. 

The week dragged by, and I realised I had become over-obsessed with my relationship with the little blonde. The image of her lithe body was filling my waking thoughts, and disturbing my sleep, so that I awoke and caught myself masturbating, the picture of Karen's writhing body, her glistening pussy, dominating me completely.

By the time Friday came around, I could bear it no longer, and when James announced that his team had an away match at Plymouth, which necessitated an overnight stay, I decided, there and then, that I would go around to Karen's, unannounced.

I dressed in a nice short silky maroon dress and got to her block about nine, and finding the bottom door ajar, didn't have to be buzzed in on the entry-phone system. I rode up in the lift, having misgivings – what if she had family there? 

I rang her doorbell, and heard her heels clicking down the passageway. Her mouth dropped open when she saw it was me. She didn't look at all pleased to see me, but was distinctly nervous. I looked her up and down.

'Karen, you look absolutely wonderful!' I said.

She laughed lightly, but looked close to tears as she let me in. She wore a black leather corset so tight that it cinched in her already tiny waist so cruelly I could almost have spanned my hands around it. When she turned quickly to precede me into her lounge, I saw that it was laced up at the back with criss-cross lacing, but its hem was above her buttocks, which were naked. Garter straps from the corset held black seamed stockings, and her feet were perched on black patent needle-heeled shoes, with platform soles. She turned to face me, and I saw that the corset stopped below her tiny breasts, pushing them upwards. Her long nipples were adorned with little toothed gold clamps, from each of which swung a little gold ball on the end of a chain. She wore a broad gold coloured choker, and long gold pendant ear-rings. Her hair was up in a French knot.

'Expecting someone, I see,' I said.

She cast her eyes downwards. 'I didn't expect you!' she said sullenly, and I saw she was crying.

'Oh, Karen,' I said, 'please don't cry. I don't expect you to tell me everything, really!'

She looked up at me from where she was perched, on the arm of the sofa, tears glistening in her lovely blue eyes, and was about to say something when the door-bell sounded.

'Oh, Christ,' she said, 'Oh fucking hell, she's early! What am I going to do?' What the fuck am I going to do?' She was close to panic, and it was, of course, all my fault.

'Don't worry, I'll go,' I said.

'You don't understand,' she said, 'she's seen you – in the shop!'

The doorbell sounded again.

'You'd best answer it,' I said, and she got up and went to the door.

In walked a tall, slim Indian woman I had certainly seen in the shop – she was Karen's supervisor! Elegant, perhaps forty years old, with long black, auburn-tinted straight hair, she wore a medium-length fur coat, despite the warm weather, under which disappeared long black boots with high spiky heels.

She took in the scene.

'So, this is the sort of thing my slave gets up to behind my back, is it?'

Karen, normally so self-assured, started to stutter, 'No, Mistress Asha, Fenella is just a friend.'

'Oh, is she? I've seen her in the store, flashing her pretty pussy. Fenella, is it?'

I looked at her. There was something commanding about her, and I was suddenly fascinated by their relationship. I had thought I knew Karen, thought I was on the verge of discovering a new sort of relationship myself – and now........this!

'Well,' said Asha, sternly, 'aren't you going to take my coat, slut?'

Karen moved faster than I had thought possible and lifted the heavy fur off the Indian woman's shoulders. I gasped. She wore a soft leather garment, which fitted her like glove. It covered her arms, her whole body, and legs, down to where it virtually became her boots, but there were three cut-outs, so that her heavy breasts swung entirely free, and her shaven pussy was completely uncovered. She saw me looking, and smiled in my direction.

'Like my outfit, do you?' she asked.

Incapable of speech, I nodded, and she moved closer to me.

'You're very pretty, Fenella,' she said, 'and I like your dress.'

Her dark eyes bored into me, and I felt myself melt under their heat.

'I can understand why Karen....' I started to say.

'I don't think you understand anything, yet!' said Asha, then, to Karen, 'I see you are ready, but have you got everything prepared?'

'Yes, Mistress Asha,' she said.

'Go to the bedroom, slut!' she said, and turning to me, seemed to study me for a long moment, then said, slowly, 'If you like, you can come.' As she said this she raised the hem of my skirt, and her hand grazed my naked, shaven mons.

I followed her into the bedroom. Karen was standing motionless beside the bed, the black satin sheets I had so recently bought her neatly tucked in. On the floor, open beside her, stood the 'toy-box,' and now I could see that it contained vast array of handcuffs, paddles and whips, as well as the vibrators and dildos I already knew about.

'As you're here, you can help!' said Asha, to me, 'take off her corset!'

I obeyed, unlacing the wicked garment, and feeling the relief coursing through her as her flesh was released from its restraint. But I was still envious of her, somehow, for wearing it.




Fenella's Feelings Flip



'And the stockings?' I asked.

'May as well,' she said, and I rolled them off her slender legs, slipping her shoes back on.

She was naked but for the awful little nipple clamps.

'Do they hurt?' enquired Asha, flicking at one of the gold balls.

'Yes, Mistress Asha,' she said.

'Good,' she said, 'but now, I shall hurt you much more. You'd like that, wouldn't you, slut?'

'Yes, Mistress Asha!'

'Say please!'

'Oh, yes please, Mistress Asha!'

'Kneel, then!' she said, then to me, sharply, 'you! Put a cushion down, we don't want to mark her pretty knees, do we?'

Wondering why, I obeyed her, and soon Karen was kneeling on a cushion.

Asha was speaking to me again, 'This is her first time, so I shall only give her six strokes – it's all she will be able to take.'

She took a long leather riding crop from the box, and showed it to Karen, whose eyes widened in terror.

I felt.....I don't know what I felt! A strange excitement, a horror, but at the same time, why was I wet through?

Before I had time to think it through, Asha, her tits swinging in rhythm as her arm swung through the air, lashed Karen's lovely tender flesh ferociously, across her upper back, causing her to wail loudly. 

'Quiet, you slut!' she admonished, and 'thwack' she whipped her again, just lower, and harder, bringing up a red wheal the width of her back. Each stroke was lower, as the Indian woman wielded the weapon expertly. 

As she prepared the fifth, she summoned me to stand behind her. Not knowing what she expected of me, I was surprised when she took my hand in her free one, and directed it to her naked pussy. She was dripping, and I found myself working first two then three fingers deep into her commodious cunt as she lashed my blonde lover again, causing her to writhe and squirm on her cushion.

'That's enough!' Asha announced.

Karen then stood up and amazed me by simply saying, 'thank you, Mistress Asha!'

At that, Asha changed persona completely, and we all three went into the lounge, and sat with drinks for a long time, discussing fashion, as if nothing had happened.

That night I stayed with Karen. When Asha had gone, we made a simple meal, then slept in each others' arms. In the morning, I rubbed balm into her wounds, without ever discussing what caused them. But we knew thing had changed between us, and I, for one, knew that my life would never be the same again.



Fenella's Feelings



Life, Fenella reflected, had grown more interesting in the very short time since she had taken her decision, and there were many avenues to explore.