0 comments/ 52244 views/ 35 favorites A Sense of Submission By: krr1957 This story contains themes of reluctance and coercion in a lesbian setting. If you think you might be offended please try a different story. Chapter One Hanging naked whilst being whipped by a surreally beautiful nineteen year old goddess was not how I envisaged spending my thirty-seventh birthday. She did not appear to be expending any effort but each casual flexion of her arm seared another painful stripe across my already tortured backside. We agreed twelve but after seven I begged her to stop. She was slightly built but the form fitting leather outfit she had chosen to wear imbued her with a sense of latent strength. The phrase "warrior princess" came to mind and I mentally filed it away for later use. She walked in front of me, the sharp heels of her boots sounding menacing on the parquet floor, and brushed a stray hair from my forehead. I have always counted myself blessed by way of looks but I had to give second best to this young woman. Her lustrous blonde hair was swept back and held in a ponytail giving stark expression to her striking facial features. Her skin was flawless and her pale blue eyes had an inner radiance that was almost hypnotic. Her nose was cute forming a contrast with the sensuous fullness of her mouth and she could, under other circumstances, have seriously tested my heterosexual credentials. I appraised her again trying to see her as her clients would. Her breasts were full, a fact attested to by the bodice work that held them firm, and her legs long enough to give her an inch or two advantage over me in terms of height. For one so young she did not lack self-assurance. I waited for her to release the velcro cuffs that held me bound to the steel bar that hung from the ceiling but she seemed in no great hurry. She reached out and brushed her gloved finger against my exposed nipple and I pulled away reflexively. "I promise you that, given enough time, you would be pleading with me to touch you but, for now, I intend to fulfil our bargain." I looked at her and smiled. "I have all I need, thanks. I still don't pretend to know what motivates your clients but I can see that you are very good at what you do." She returned my smile but there was a hint of amusement about it as if a joke had been told and I had failed to understand the punch line. "I think that you've missed a fundamental part of the equation. I don't just do this for money, or the benefit of my clients, I do it because I enjoy it; just as I will enjoy giving you the remaining five that you asked for." I assumed that she was still in her role and, I have to give her credit, she sounded as if she was totally for real. "Look, I appreciate your assistance, just unfasten the cuffs and I'll buy you a coffee." She disappeared from view and I waited for her to engage the winch and lower the bar. I had mentally relaxed which made the shock even greater when she struck me again. It came completely without warning and made everything that had gone before seem tame by comparison. The crisp snap across the taut flesh of my buttocks sounded no louder but the pain was of a different order. It blazed where she had struck and was then diffused across my whole body. I stiffened involuntarily and understood that she had only been toying with me up until then. I was so jolted that I could not form the words to protest before she laid another stripe across my already tortured flesh. For a split second I felt the precise cut of it but then the pain merged and it felt as if someone was holding a steam iron to my skin. I screamed and tears started to my eyes but the pain was unremitting. Some part of my mind insisted that this could not be happening whilst, at the same time, I understood that she had deliberately warmed me up in order to maximise my anguish. There was a long pause with the silence only broken by my sobs and then the sinister creak of leather. The movement of the whip through the air sounded so innocuous but the effect was devastating. She struck lower this time catching the crease of my buttocks and the instant agony was such that I was sure that blood had been drawn. I wanted to swear at her but expletives do not come naturally to me and I howled as I had not done since I was a young girl. I begged, and promised her anything, but the final two strokes were delivered with studied deliberation and even greater severity. When it was over I tried to squirm away as she gently used her fingers to check the damage that she had inflicted. "Get off me!" She ignored me and, instead, moulded herself into my back. The leather she wore felt blissfully cool to the touch and, for a few seconds, I surrendered to its soothing effects. The heat was slowing spreading and she traced its expanding boundaries with her fingertips right around to the front of my thighs. I twitched anxiously but she remained close pressed and then her hand cupped my sex. I was shocked to stillness and I could feel every tiny movement as she surveyed the shape and firmness of my mound. I turned my head and murmured. "Please...don't." She continued as if I had not spoken her touch becoming ever surer. I felt a sense of revulsion but, at the same time, I was aware that she was touching me as no man ever had. There is a certain feeling that can only be elicited by your own fingers but she had attuned herself to me in only a matter of minutes. Against all reason I felt myself becoming aroused but in so doing the pain that she had visited upon me was being abated. My body relaxed a little and I rationalized that she would stop when she deemed that I was befittingly embarrassed. That moment came more quickly than I thought. She held up her finger to me and I could see the leather darkened with moisture. "Well, well..." I hated the idea that she might, in some way, believe that I could actually take some pleasure from this. It then occurred to me that I might be perspiring but she forestalled this avenue of evasion by bringing her finger to my nose. The smell of leather was strong but there was no doubting the nature of the scent that overlaid it. She dropped her hand to my sex once again and I was determined to resist but her fingers fluttered in such a way that I held my breath in anticipation. She applied the slightest of pressures then teasingly held just at the threshold. I have enjoyed three long term relationships with men but I have never been able to achieve orgasm from penetrative sex and their crude fumbling with their fingers was worse still. The best I could manage was to have them go down on me but, even then, some of the pleasure was lost from constantly having to issue guidance. In short, the best orgasms were those that I conjured for myself and I have lost count of the number of times that I have waited for my partner to go to sleep before I could finally find release. Now, suddenly, here was a suggestion of something more. It was almost as if I was touching myself and the heat of pain merged with a flush of arousal across my whole body. It seemed an age that she held me there her finger barely moving but, almost imperceptibly, I could feel her slowly encroaching and my body melting to accommodate her. Her face was close to mine and I was aware of her slow, controlled, breathing even as my own became more ragged. Her finger was inside me now but she did no more than flex it slightly allowing my sex to slowly come to terms with the stealthy invasion. Her body supported mine as the tension left my muscles and it felt as if we were melded as one. My whole consciousness was focused on that delicious intrusion and I moaned softly hoping that she would take things further. I could feel myself getting wetter moment by moment and I lewdly imagined her glove becoming sodden. Just moments before I could have killed her but now she was asserting her dominion over me in a completely different way and, if she were to release me, I was not sure how I would react. Everything in my upbringing railed at what was being done to me but in a darker part of my mind was the thought that, beyond the confines of this room, no one would ever know. I gave a gasp as I felt her move slightly and I feared that she was going to leave me high and dry. She had seemingly done very little but I was getting frustratingly closer to the edge. Her finger was sliding away and I turned my face to hers. "Please..." For a few seconds I watched as she pondered her decision. She could have asked me to beg, and she knew I would have done, and it was her certainty of this victory that tilted the balance. I felt the pad of her finger at the apex of my sex. It took but a second or two for her to orientate herself but then she unerringly engaged with my clitoris. Her touch was perfectly weighted and I could feel the slight roughness of wet leather each time I breathed. Had it been me I would have increased the tempo but there was an exquisite agony as she unhurriedly held me in check until I was made acutely aware of each tiny abrasive movement. All my pain was forgotten as my focus centred on her fingertip and the resulting pulses of pleasure which thrilled my whole body and slowly grew in intensity. It seemed absurd that she remained so still whilst I was panting for breath and perspiring with the effort of staying in touch with her. At the end there was some semblance of mercy. She increased the pressure fractionally and caressed with a feather light touch which had me wanting to thrash my body but I knew that stillness was the key. When my climax came it was slow and assured bearing me up higher than I thought it was possible to go. I knew that I was crying out but I knew not what.. For long seconds I was transported to a plateau where there was a whiteness about everything and my body seemed both tensed and relaxed at the same time. It was too perfect, and at the zenith, I blacked out for a second or two before re-emerging frantic to hold on to every last ounce of it before it ebbed away. When it was over I groaned as she slipped away from me leaving me hanging limp and desperately confused. Chapter Two I had always envisaged myself as a successful news journalist and, ideally, a foreign correspondent. In my early years I was moderately successful and even won an award but I quickly found that, apart from a few household names, journalism does not pay well. I was able to afford a modest flat of my own but three failed relationships had put paid to any long term financial security. I joined the profession when staff jobs were on the wane and the major papers relied upon a pool of freelancers. I was able to sell stories but never the big one which would make my name. I was going through a particularly barren patch, both personally and professionally, when one of my friends suggested that I should try submitting a feature article to a magazine. This was anathema to someone who considered themselves a real journalist but pragmatism won out. The big buzz of the moment was s&m, courtesy of on-line book sales, but if I was to tap that vein I knew I needed a different slant on it. I started researching, and found most of it particularly unedifying, but then I chanced upon a website which dealt with the topic of women wishing to submit to other women. I had never given this a thought but I found myself intrigued. I eventually lighted upon Jessica's profile and I was fascinated by her candour. She set out the services she was prepared to provide and a list of fees and I was convinced that the photograph was a fake...that is, until I met her. She stipulated a public place and I opted for a branch of Starbucks where the alcoves offered some privacy. When she walked in she made heads turn and my immediate thought was that, if she needed to make money to fund her studies, she could turn her hand to modelling rather than the seedier path she had chosen. I was clear with her from the start. I just wanted to conduct an interview to discuss her motivations and experiences. If the article was published I guaranteed her a percentage of the fee and as much, or as little, publicity as she wanted. She was happy to talk but by the end of half an hour I had no real sense of her. It was then that she suggested that the only way for me to fully understand was to actually experience it; and so my fate was sealed. For obvious reasons the resultant article was heavily sanitized but it still garnered more interest that I had anticipated. It got taken up by a major domestic magazine and then went on to be syndicated. Even allowing for Jessica's percentage I still made more money from that single submission than I had in the previous twelve months. It was no great surprise, therefore, when I received a phone call from the editor asking if I had anything else in the same vein. It seemed totally logical to get back in touch with Jessica but I was forced to question my motivation. Despite her tender years her experience was much broader than mine but I could have considered someone else. I rationalized it by telling myself that I was lucky to find her in the first place. She was intelligent, articulate and, given the nature of the topic, salubrious. When I phoned her she was excited at the prospect. I had given no specifics as to her identity in the article but the magazine had been inundated with e-mail traffic which they had passed on to her and business was booming. I thought that she might steer me towards another byway of this strange netherworld but, instead she suggested that I could gain a different perspective by watching her in session with another client. It was an interesting idea but I wondered if it would make for too similar an article and there was something else in the back of my mind which would not quite come into focus. I finally decided that it was a question of nothing ventured nothing gained and a time was arranged. When Jessica opened the door to me I was surprised to find her casually dressed in a baggy tee shirt, tight jeans and a pair of well-worn leather sandals. She looked every inch the university student and I wondered if her client had cried off. She assured me that everything was still okay and proceeded to make coffee. I sat across from her and felt slightly disjointed. She spoke about the success of the article but in such a way that it felt as if she was talking about two totally different people. When the doorbell rang she told me that I should simply follow her lead and I was not to make notes. I was intrigued to find out what sort of person availed herself of the services of a girl like Jessica but I was taken by surprise when the woman was shown into the room. Jessica had explained that she was a regular client whom she knew as Linda but that was not her real name. I guessed that she was about thirty and her expensive business attire marked her out as a professional, a lawyer perhaps? I suppose that I expected someone shy and non-descript but here was a woman who clearly lavished a lot of attention on her appearance. She may have been a pound or two overweight but she had a classical hour glass figure, which men currently clamoured for, and she was very attractive facially; her glossy black hair and dark eyes hinting at some middle-eastern blood in her heritage. Jessica came and sat beside me on the sofa leaving Linda standing in the middle of the room. Her expression was neutral but I could see that her pupils were dilated; she seemed completely unfazed by my presence. "Why don't you undress for us..." Linda's hesitation was momentary. She put aside her bag, an expensive Chloé if I was not mistaken, and took off her jacket. I sat transfixed having to convince myself that this was really happening. She slowly stripped to her underwear and I had the distinct feeling that she was putting on a show for my benefit. She stood still allowing me to take in the curves of her body and I was suitably impressed. Her skin bore a healthy tan and, despite the odd holiday pound, she looked very fit. "Don't be coy. She wants to see you naked." Jessica spoke as if reading my mind, her tone nonchalant but assured. Linda's eyes flicked to mine and then quickly away as she carefully removed her bra and pants and set them to one side. Her legs were nicely toned and her breasts more fulsome than they first appeared but it was her nipples that took my attention. They were a dark shade of brown and so much larger than mine. "Show her." I cast a glance at Jessica wondering what she meant but Linda knew exactly what was demanded of her. She brought her hands to her breasts and gently teased with her fingertips. I almost gasped as I watched the teats distend until they were almost an inch proud of her heavily dimpled areola. This display of raw nature seemed so at odds with her professional persona. She began to pinch more purposefully and gave a low moan as her eyes closed. I could only watch jealousy wondering if her nipples were sensitive in proportion to their size. The answer came as she reached down to her sex and began to massage her mound whilst still squeezing vigorously. I knew that, with the article in mind, I should have remained dispassionate but watching her like this stirred something inside me. I am no stranger to pornography but nothing I had seen could have prepared me for the reality with which I was now confronted. There was no faking, no cutting away. Here was a woman, who clearly enjoyed being watched, at the height of arousal. She was in no way a model of perfection but her blemishes only made her more human, more like me. There was something else, something it took me a moment to grasp, the scent of her was in the air. I actually felt a little guilty as I deliberately breathed her in noting the subtle constituents. Her perfume was musky and expensive but there was also a hint of overworked deodorant and something more. I do not know why it came as such a shock but the realization that I could smell her arousal startled me. She was some feet away but it was sufficiently potent to fill the void and I wondered if this is how it had been for my various lovers. That thought was no sooner formed than I became self-consciously aware of my own sex and felt an almost overwhelming urge to touch myself. She was becoming more and more heated but I noticed that she did nothing more than rub herself. If it were me I would, by now, have my fingers deep inside but she was demonstrating incredible self-control I looked across at Jessica. She had a half smile on her face and I suddenly comprehended that it had nothing to do with Linda's powers of restraint; she was waiting for permission! Now that I understood I could see that Linda's eyes were not just conveying the arousal that she felt she was also pleading silently to be allowed to go further. Jessica let her continue for a few minutes more and then quietly said "Stop..." Linda did as she was told but, for a moment, reality seemed to intrude on her fantasy. She covered herself with her arms as if she had been caught in the act and looked at me with a hint of embarrassment in her eyes. Jessica had not really explained in any great detail what was to transpire she simply told me to come along with an open mind. Now she stood up, stretched languidly, and then waited. Her extreme beauty aside she radiated something that was hard to define. There was a certain aura about her which had a profound effect on Linda who looked at her with adulation. She stepped forward hesitantly and, in a choreographed movement, Jessica raised her arms allowing Linda to carefully remove her tee shirt. She was not wearing a bra and my eyes fell to her breasts. They were beautifully shaped with the enviable firmness of youth and nipples almost perfectly circular. Linda simply stared for a moment before slowly dropping to her knees. A Sense of Submission She reached forward and I could see her hands trembling slightly as she began to work the fastenings of Jessica's jeans before gently working the tight denim down her long legs. Jessica stepped out of her jeans and sandals in a single movement to stand in just a simple pair of white tanga pants which made it obvious that she had very prominent mound. She was like a work of art to be gazed upon but I felt a growing compulsion to do more than simply look. Linda was similarly affected but I was astonished as she leant forwards and placed a single kiss. Jessica's panties now bore the imprint of Linda's lipstick and it was one the most erotic images I had ever beheld. I felt my own sex growing warmer with each passing moment and I found myself pressing my thighs tightly together. No acknowledgement was made, no instruction given, Linda took careful hold of the flimsy cotton garment as if it were precious silk of inestimable value and stripped it away. I noted that that she secreted them with her own discarded clothing but my attention was now firmly fixed on Jessica's naked form. I saw that her sex was dressed with a neatly trimmed covering of blonde hair, which came as a surprise, but then I considered that everything this young woman did was carefully calculated. Searching for an adjective with which to describe her mons I could not get beyond the word ripe. The perfect upswell was accentuated by the revealed tips of her labia which had a beckoning quality. This was borne out as Linda knelt before her looking mesmerized. She moaned almost inaudibly like a desert traveller lighting upon an oasis. Jessica looked perfectly serene and totally in command of the situation. I knew what was coming and I could not believe how aroused I was at the prospect. Had anything like it been outlined to me only days before I would have laughed out loud but she was keeping me as skilfully on edge as she was Linda. Finally, she put a finger under Linda's chin and raised her head. "Adore me..." She needed no second bidding. Leaning forward she began to devotedly kiss and lick between Jessica's legs but she made no attempt to broach the portal. It was not lost on me that she kept her hands clasped behind her back the whole time. Jessica looked tranquil which contrasted with my own state of agitation. I was now undeniably aroused and I guiltily craved the sensations that I knew she could bestow. She allowed Linda to indulge herself for some minutes and I felt certain that she was fully aware of the effect it was having on me. Eventually, she bade her to stop and then she came and sat beside me on the sofa. Her insouciant, naked, presence flustered me and I tried desperately to retain some professional integrity but I was fighting a losing battle. My heart skipped as, with calculated slowness, she parted her legs. She beckoned Linda forward with a single finger and she approached on her knees. She appeared transported and I noted that her nipples still stood fiercely distended. She paused for a moment, as if waiting at a prayer rail, and then closed the divide. She sealed her mouth to Jessica's sex and for a brief moment her cool façade slipped. Her body arched fractionally and I surmised that this was in reaction to the invasion of Linda's tongue. She quickly gathered herself but I could see that Linda was straining to penetrate as deeply as possible and, for an exquisite instance, it was as almost if I could feel it myself. My sex was becoming uncomfortably wet but I remained frozen not wanting to break the spell. Time stood still and I became acutely aware of every sound. There was the background of distant traffic and the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen but, set against this, was Linda's soft murmuring and the lapping of her tongue. I knew, then, that she would carry on for however long Jessica wanted, for as many hours or as many orgasms as she wished, and that thought nearly brought me to a climax. I must have moaned out loud without being aware of it as Jessica turned to me. "Take off your panties..." I knew that this was all so terribly wrong but the world of mores seemed beyond my reach. I fumbled beneath my skirt and was mortified to find that my panties were sodden. Jessica laughed at my discomfort as I quickly removed them and dropped them somewhere in the vicinity of my handbag at the side of the sofa. "Lift your skirt and open your legs." My hands seemed to belong to someone else as I did as she asked and became immediately aware of the cool air on my heated sex. I had used a depilatory that morning which was unusual for me as I usually waited until the weekend. My eyes flitted to Linda only to find her looking back at me and I realized that, for her, the script had suddenly changed. Jessica slowly eased her away from her sex and stroked her hair, as if she were doting on a pet, before speaking to me again. "Do you want her..." Linda looked shocked at the rejection but I could see that it had spoken to something deep inside her. For my part I was totally conflicted. Jessica was offering the use of her, treating her as nothing more than a body slave, and it went against all of my principals but I reasoned that to deny her might be the crueller option. In the end she made the decision for herself. She moved from between Jessica's legs to take her place in front of me and the look of lust she conveyed sent a shiver through me. I felt an impulse to close my legs, reminding myself that this was another woman, but she gazed at my sex with a reverence that no man had ever exhibited. The protuberant labia that had once worried me, until I came to embrace them as an adult, were, to her, a thing of beauty and as she began to gently kiss each side in turn I almost swooned. She took her time, licking over the whole expanse of my sensitized mound and then returning to take each wing in turn gently between her lips before caressing with her tongue. The feeling was almost indescribable. I did not want her stop what she was doing but my body was screaming out for her to be more assertive. In a lucid moment it then dawned on me that this was the essential thrust of the article. There was a dynamic at work here that needed to be explored and explained. By slow degrees she was changing her approach. She subtly began to apply more pressure and licked along the whole length of my furrow resulting in a teasing pressure on my clitoris. I had no control over my own body as it yielded to her sly urging. My sex opened to her and I felt a welling of moisture. This was her cue and she pressed home in a single thrust that robbed me of breath. Her tongue seemed to fill me but she flexed it to give herself further access. She was like a musician tuning an instrument as she explored within finding those spots that provoked the strongest response. My fingers clawed at the sofa as she toyed with me and she had yet to seek out my clitoris. This was well beyond my experience. Even the men who had professed to enjoy it, most of whom I did not believe, had never come close. Linda had a natural understanding of what it took to bring another woman pleasure and she was a skilled practitioner. It felt as if we were as one, sharing the same sympathetic vibration. I could feel myself leaking copiously but that only served to feed her need. She swallowed greedily and hearing her increased my exhilaration. I should have been climaxing but she denied me the final touch whilst promising so much. Her tongue found the roof of my sex working a point beyond my clitoris and my body began to tense. It was an incredible feeling and not something I had achieved with my own fingers. The strain was a beautiful agony and when, at last, she gave her attention to my sweet spot a spring was uncoiled. I felt each tiny, knowing, movement centred there and then radiating throughout my body with unbelievable intensity. I fought to breathe as wave after wave crashed over me and there seemed no ending until I could take no more and I returned to the here and now. I wanted to thank her but she had all the thanks she needed as she lapped the warm residue from my thighs and then returned to Jessica for unfinished business. Chapter Three The article presented a problem. I could not allude my own intimate involvement and, in order to satisfy the guidelines of a mainstream magazine, I had to edit it heavily. I believed that I caught the inter-relationship and the nature of dependency succinctly but I was struggling to meet the minimum word count. I was discussing this with the editor when I uttered the fateful words. "If only you could see her..." The obvious leap to the possibility of a photo-shoot fired the editor with renewed enthusiasm but I was dubious. Jessica had remained in control in terms of confidentiality, using the magazine as a cut-out, but photographs presented a different problem. I contacted her without hope or enthusiasm; she was, after all, studying at one of the country's most prestigious universities but her reply took me by surprise. She was happy to pose but only if the shoot was undertaken by a friend. I pointed out to her that the magazine used some of the best fashion photographers around and that they would not compromise but she insisted that I come along and take a look. A couple of days later I collected her and we drove the short distance across town to her friend's studio. I was expecting a commercial premises but we arrived at a residential address and Jessica led me up to the loft apartment. Yet again I was confounded in my expectation. I thought that I was to be introduced to a university contemporary but Evelyn Proctor turned out to be a Canadian closer to my age than Jessica's. She was larger than life in every sense. She stood a little taller than me and carried a lot more weight but she had it in all the right places and she exuded a sense of good health and vitality. I was welcomed expansively with a kiss on both cheeks and the intimation that any friend of Jessica's was a friend of hers. The loft, come studio, was a huge airy space with a large range of expensive photographic equipment on display. The walls were bedecked with her work which included some original paintings in amongst the many black and white photo prints which seemed to be her forte. One photograph in particular, just inside the doorway, caught my attention. Its composition featured a woman, partly unclothed, secured to the four corners of a bed. The style was reminiscent of a fifties pulp book cover but the counterpoint was her nemesis who stood over her holding a whip. The second figure was cast in shadow but there was just enough definition to suggest that it was another woman. The image was familiar but I could not quite put my finger on it until Jessica said. "Your taste in music?" I then remembered the brouhaha from the previous year. An Australian girl band, whose name was lost to me, were the subject of a massive launch for their first album but the music itself had become overshadowed by the debate, mainly in the feminist press, about their choice of cover art work. The story had been big enough to find some space on the inner pages of the sleazier Sunday tabloids. I looked at Evelyn with renewed appreciation and then went on to note that the greater part of her oeuvre had fetish undercurrents. I am no art expert but I could see that there was quite a talent at work here. All of her photographs drew you in to examine them more closely with the theme seeming to be things hidden or hinted at in the shadows. In each she managed to pull off the trick of showing the beauty of her models without identifying them and I knew, immediately, that Jessica had been absolutely right. Evelyn brewed coffee and we sat down on a pair of facing sofas. I sat next to Jessica with Evelyn opposite to us and we reached an agreement. I would recommend Evelyn but, once the introductions were made, she would have to negotiate her own fee with the magazine. I suspected that she would have done it for nothing just for the exposure but the magazine stood to gain from her recent notoriety. The conversation was pleasant but business-like until Evelyn stopped me cold. "Do you like legs?" "I'm sorry?" "You seem fascinated by my legs. I'm sorry, I notice these things." I felt a guilty flush start to my cheeks. She was wearing a skirt which had ridden up a little when she sat down and it is true that the exposed expanse of her legs had caught my attention. They were surprisingly toned and shapely leaving me wondering what she did to keep to keep fit. Before I could formulate a reply she spoke again. "Forgive me. I run an on-line fetish magazine to promote my work. It has been astonishingly successful and I've gained a unique insight into what turns people on. Breasts are probably most popular amongst the general population but, in the community that reads my magazine, there is more of an emphasis on legs and particularly women's backsides." Her matter of fact tone put me a little more at ease but then, irrationally, I wondered if she was speaking mainly for heterosexuals. Her works seemed evenly divided between those depicting men with women, and those that I would consider of a lesbian leaning. There were a just a few that showed men with men. It transpired that they knew one another through the magazine and that Jessica had become something of a muse. Evelyn showed me some shots featuring her and they were quite breath taking. Even without totally revealing her face she had captured the essence of her as well as her raw beauty. Jessica looked at the photographs herself, outwardly lost in thought, and then said. "Let's take a couple of shots now so that we can show the magazine what we can do." I took the sheets from her and looked at them again. "We could just use these as examples." She touched my hand and smiled. "No silly, if we are going to do this than it has to be for real. It has to be you and me." I just did not know how to reply. My immediate thought was that I was too shy but I was vain enough to be flattered that she would even consider me as a potential model. I was also intrigued as to how Evelyn would work with less than perfect raw material. It became a fait accompli when Evelyn drew the blinds and began to set up her lighting rigs. Jessica drew me across the room and it was amazing how intimate the space now seemed. When Evelyn was ready she wheeled over an empty clothes rail. "Get undressed and hang up your clothes." I hesitated for a moment caught between the clinical reality and the fantasy I had conjured for myself. It was Jessica who snapped me out of it. "If you're going to take Linda's part you need to be naked." I slowly removed my clothes all the while conscious of the harsh lights. It seemed impossible that this set up could yield such dramatically shaded results. Once I was naked Evelyn began to circle me taking variety of shots but never once asking me to pose. As she worked Jessica took off her clothes and, seeing her naked, I felt that same hollow feeling inside. She sat down on the sofa as if taking a throne and, only then, did it really come home to me what I had agreed to. Evelyn switched her attention to Jessica who was a natural in front of the camera. She sat regally until Evelyn changed cameras and nodded. Jessica slowly opened her legs with a wicked smile on her face and pointed to the floor in front of her. My heart beat faster as I went to my knees and I immediately noticed that she was professionally depilated. This change, since our last encounter, gave added emphasis to her mound which appeared almost burnished. "She's a Goddess isn't she?" Evelyn spoke softly at my ear but I could not reply. I yielded as she moved me closer in and I barely registered the soft click of the camera. Over the next few minutes she posed the pair of us but, throughout, my eyes remained fixed on the delta of Jessica's sex. Evelyn asked me to open my mouth and show my tongue but the truth was that I breathing through my nose hoping for some indication that Jessica too was being affected. She played her imperious role well but she was more aware than I gave her credit for. "Lick me if you want to." Was I really so transparent? Was it something I really wanted? Evelyn remained completely unfazed. "Go ahead honey. I can give you a few minutes and then we can pick up again." In a state of confusion I got to my feet. "I need a break." Jessica laughed as she addressed Evelyn. "She's a lesbian but she's still discovering herself." To hear it put thus starkly seemed so very wrong. What the hell did this girl know about me! In the past few days I had done a lot of thinking but I had convinced myself that I was simply caught up in the circumstances of this particular job. Another man would stroll into my life at some point and this would all be put down to experience. Evelyn put an arm around my shoulder and her presence was a comforting warmth. "It's fine baby. I didn't find the faith until later in life myself." I froze in her embrace. I had not considered her sexuality other than to think that she would have no problem at all in attracting men. My sudden tenseness did not daunt her. She took me in her arms and cuddled me to her ample bosom and I smelt the soft fragrance of her perfume. I could, perhaps should, have pulled away but some deep memory stirred and I felt a sudden, blissful, sense of wellbeing. She stroked my hair and spoke in a whisper. "You are so very beautiful. I say that not just as another woman but as an artist." Was she coming on to me? I did not know, but the bigger question was whether or not I welcomed the advance. She held me for a long time and I could hear the steady beat of her heart. It would have been so easy to drift off in the comfort of her arms. Eventually, she eased away and took my face in her hands. "Do you trust me? I know exactly how to photograph you." Without waiting for an answer she began to move lights to the back of the studio and Jessica took me by the hand and led me across. I immediately recognized the bed from the album cover print and now had an inkling of what to expect. Evelyn appreciated my unease. She sat on the bed and invited me to sit next to her. "This will be a private photograph just for you. No one else ever need see it unless you wished." Even now I wanted to dissent but I put up no resistance as she eased me backwards. With an evident facility she and Jessica bound my limbs to the corners of the bed and my only thought was of how white and pure the ropes appeared. She began to take shots from a variety of angles, under different lighting settings, and then set me a new challenge. "I want you to struggle against the ropes. Ignore me, and do it for real." I started off tentatively but found that, whilst the ropes were relatively thick and the knots seemingly innocuous, I could not free myself. Trying again, I closed my fingers and tried to slip free but there was insufficient play in the ropes. Now, mildly annoyed, I tried in earnest twisting my whole body, but I was stuck fast. "I've had enough now. Untie me." Evelyn, who had been shooting fast and furiously, put her camera aside and spoke breathlessly. "Wait just a moment..." She wheeled across a small trolley bearing a computer monitor. She plugged in the camera and her fingers flew across the keyboard whist she made adjustments with a mouse. When she was happy she turned the screen towards me. "It's not the finished product...just to give you an idea." Even from my prone position I could see that it was a beautiful composition. She had caught my face in the half-light so that it was undoubtedly me but the expression could have been one either of agony or ecstasy. A Sense of Submission My body was arched giving emphasis to my breasts and the toned shape of my thighs of which I am so proud. It was as if she had reached inside and learnt of the things about me that had the most appeal as far as I was concerned. It what was she said next that completely skewed all of my assumptions. "I've tried to capture your natural submissiveness..." In my own view I was a pretty tough cookie. My career seemed like a constant stream of adversities which had to be overcome and it would have been easy to crumble under the stress imposed by my personal relationships. Again, in some uncanny way, it felt as if she was following my train of thought. "There is great difference between the face that you present to the world at large and that which you show to those who know you most intimately" This continuing presumption that they knew me better than I knew myself was beginning to anger me and it must have shown. Evelyn touched my face. "I could prove it to you..." I watched disbelievingly as she took off her jumper and then started to remove her skirt. She was the only anchor point on reality in this surreal environment and now the chain was slipping. For a second or two she stood in just her underwear and I noted how much more expensive it looked than mine. A burgundy, lace fringed, bra uplifted her impressive breasts matched by a pair of French panties. With her slightly untamed long brown hair she looked like a woman out of time; before the era of the waif she could have stepped out of a McGill seaside postcard For the present all thoughts of release were forgotten as I waited to see what she would do next. A moment later, with all the grace of a seasoned Burlesque performer, she stripped naked. She had praised my appearance but it always felt like a constant work in progress; an ongoing review of diet, fitness and cosmetics. Looking at her there was an effortlessness, and confidence, about the natural beauty she possessed. She sat beside me again and I could not help but look at hers breasts. They were heavy but superbly rounded with neat, upward pointing, pink nipples. She saw where I was looking and, in response, she reached out to me. She brushed my nipple with the back of her finger perking it to life. "You have nothing to be jealous of..." She was so close that I could feel the warmth of her breath and, for the briefest instant, I wanted nothing more than to feel the fullness of her body pressed to mine. That thought was made manifest as she seemingly flowed over me with a teasing touching of flesh. I tried to lift myself to meet her but she gracefully rose above me until her knees slipped over my captive arms. I was enclosed by the columns of her pale, sculpted, thighsand there, filing my vision, was the splendour of her sex. "I know that you have been fantasizing about Jessica but now I want your total concentration." Her skin was enviably unblemished and only the faintest tracery on her inner thighs betrayed the fact that she was an older woman. Set against the expanse of her legs her sex was surprisingly demure, a smooth mound with a perfectly straight divide. She let me stare for a few moments more and then she touched a finger to my mouth. "You know what I want you to do..." Of course I knew, but to hear her say it still came as a shock. I was restrained, it was against my will, why then did I not object? Slowly, so as not to alarm me, she relaxed and began a measured descent and every detail was magnified; the increased pressure on my arms and the heat radiating her thighs; the renewed strength of her perfume, which she must have dabbed between her legs, but most of all the deepening shadow into which I was now cast. I felt detached from the world, my only reason for being the fulfilment of her desire. She paused and held steady just millimetres away and the heated scent of her excitement inexorably filled the void increasing my sense of space denied. "Kiss it..." It was said soto voce, barely a command, but it chimed in my sub-conscious. Somewhere, coherent thoughts, the makings of a protest, were being formed but they were shouted down by this one immediate need. I raised my head, formed my lips together, and laid a kiss at the centre of her mons before falling back. "Once more...show me your devotion." They were just words so why did they have such a disturbing effect? This time my inner turmoil held me in stasis but she waited patiently knowing that there was only one possible outcome. I closed again, this time it was a longer, fuller, kiss and as I broke away I licked the taste of her from my lips. It was a taste familiar from my own guilty fingers, a promise of excitation and fulfilment, and I felt a powerful tingling between my legs. "Lick me...nice and slowly." Again, she phrased it as a demand, but where there should have been anger I just felt more aroused. I had relinquished all control and, in so doing, everything suddenly seemed so simple. She stayed poised above me so that it required an effort on my part to do as she asked but, once I began, I was aware of nothing other than that intimate connection between us. I licked her mound registering its smoothness and pliancy as I began to explore. I used the flat of my tongue and each time I crossed the divide I was rewarded with a hint of what lay within. From time to time I looked up to find her smiling indulgently safe in the knowledge that I would do whatever she asked of me. "Rest you head now. I want your tongue inside and this is going to take a little while." I laid back my head on the pillow and there was a momentary alarm as she sank down onto my face but she allowed me time to accustom myself to the increased pressure. Her sex lay open to me and I braced my tongue slipping inside her with unexpected ease. As I did so the taste of her almost overwhelmed me. There was richness that excited first my tongue and then my whole body. I probed as deeply as I could craving more and then there was a new thrill as I felt her skilled muscles holding me in place. I lay there breathing in the heat and wetness and I felt as if I had found myself. She let me remain as I was for a long time, the only evidence of her engagement the occasional welling of moisture into my mouth, but in the end I lacked the strength to keep my tongue strained to its limit. As I withdrew my one desire was to gather myself and try again to see if I could bring this beautiful creature to a shuddering orgasm. She sighed softly and I felt a new jolt as she gently squeezed her breasts before speaking once more. "You've done well, and you'll do more...a lot more...but there is something particularly to my liking. Unfortunately, you may not enjoy it quite so much but you should take comfort knowing the pleasure it brings me." With that she eased forward just slightly closing her thighs as she did so. I was totally entombed beneath her. I could hear nothing but the quiet groaning of the bed springs and the racing of my pulse in my ears. My eyes were pressed closed and I could only breathe with a concerted effort. It was how I imagined a tropical jungle to be. The enclosed air was hot and heavy with moisture, every breath deeply scented. For some reason a recent article I had written came to mind. An American doctor, working with dementia sufferers, was applying total immersion techniques using mainly taste and smell to reinforce memories. She kept me under for a long time and I sensed, rather than heard, that she was conversing with Jessica. I tried not to panic, telling myself that she meant me no harm, but as minutes ticked by I was becoming light-headed. When, at last, she moved a little I thought it was over but, in fact, she was only just beginning. She settled again and, slowly at first, she began to rock herself on my face. It was not painful but certainly uncomfortable and grew more so as she leisurely gathered pace. She moved rhythmically and with control as she worked herself from my chin to my forehead. I should have been outraged but as she slid ever more easily, smearing me with her essence, I was moving my head, to the extent that I could, to accommodate her. I felt like a total whore but the more she abused me the closer I came to orgasm. It reached a point where she became more focused, bearing down on the bridge of my nose, and then she stopped moving altogether. I barely had time to wonder what was wrong when her body began to quiver and then I felt her climax as it pulsed through her causing her to cry out joyfully. It took an enviably long time to recede altogether but she was left totally drained and unable to move. I remained sealed in, her weight bearing down more heavily and her sex leaking freely. I was becoming overheated and I started to squirm anxiously in order to give myself some much needed breathing space but then I felt a firm pressure between my legs. It could only be Jessica and within seconds her skilful fingers were exciting my clitoris. She knew exactly how to play me and she brought me to within a hairs breadth of a climax so that I was breathing hard with every draught of air enriched with humid arousal. My agitated movements spurred Evelyn back to life and she raised herself sufficiently to make it clear what she wanted. In a frenzy I began to employ my tongue whilst Jessica continued to keep me at a fever pitch. I did not think that I could hold out but she eased off only to fire me up time and time again until, at last, Evelyn reached a second climax and I was allowed to exultantly join her. Our orgasms seemed to feed off one another increasing the intensity taking me to a totally new realm. I did not want it to end but I was close to exhaustion and I licked one last time before collapsing completely spent. Chapter Four The new article took on a life of its own. Helped, in great part, by Evelyn's prints it got picked up by the tabloids and I was even receiving requests to do television. I was under no illusions, it was not me that they wanted to interview, they were just using me as a conduit to get to Jessica. I wondered if their attitude would have been different had they known that I was the "other woman" in the photographs. The magazine let it quietly be known that models had not been used and then, from somewhere, a rumour started that the submissive was a person in the public eye. Evelyn had worked her magic and, as the guessing game ensued, I was very flattered by some of the names being suggested. Almost overnight my money worries were dissipated not least because Jessica was on a very modest percentage. Further investigation revealed that she was the only child of very rich parents and could be thought of as wealthy in her own right. I learned that, whilst her childhood was not unhappy, her parents had not lavished her with affection. She was effectively raised by nannies and tutors until she could be packed off to boarding school. She wanted for nothing but there was clearly an emotional void. I was considering whether or not there might be a third article exploring the psychological origins of her particular predilection but she quickly poured cold water on the idea. Above all else she wished to preserve her privacy. I also started to receive calls from friends and contacts who had all but cut me off. In a number of instances I took great pleasure in being curtly dismissive but one e-mail did excite me. It came from May Eddington at the Femrights publishing house. I knew her from University when her name was May Flowers and she was the first declared lesbian woman of my acquaintance. Intrigued by the change of name I looked up her on-line profile and found that she had entered a Civil Partnership and changed her surname by deed poll. I still carried a guilty conscience about the way I treated her at University. For my first term there we were room-mates. She was open about her sexuality and her plain Jane appearance, and strongly held feminist convictions, reinforced my image of lesbians in general. In truth, she was a great to share with. She was tidy, studious, always ready to help, and completely respected all of the boundaries. The problem was that I became the butt of snickering rumours and, after the first term, I asked to be moved making it clear to everyone that I was uncomfortable with the arrangement. The inference was that May had acted with impropriety and nothing could be further from the truth. Nevertheless a whispering campaign began. Years later I was so glad to hear of her success. With more gumption than I gave her credit for she set up her own publishing house on leaving university. To begin with it focused on mainly feminist issues but still enjoyed modest success. At some point she must have compromised her principles because, seizing the zeitgeist, she started a new imprint and began to publish Chick Lit. For me the books were total fluff but she had a knack of picking a winner and she was now a big player. In her e-mail she asked if I had ever considered writing a book and invited me to join her for lunch with a couple of colleagues. With thoughts of a chance to really make my name, and an opportunity to apologize after all these years, I set out to her office. The building itself was a real eye opener; a converted Edwardian terrace next to the theatre district on which no expense had been spared. I was taken up to the Board Room which was an expansively glazed addition to the original flat roof. It gave a wonderfully quirky view over the rooftops of the old city. "You like it?" I turned around and I had to do a double take. The woman who had walked into the room was obviously May but not the May that I knew. Gone was the mousey hair and the troublesome teenage acne. Even her timorous posture had changed. This was a confident business woman who could have stepped straight off of an advertising hoarding. Her hair was a deep shade of red brown, expensively coiffured, that harmonised with her dark eyes which were more beautiful than I remembered. Her make-up was impeccably applied and she wore a bright red lipstick that only the most self-assured could get away with. Throughout her days at University she had always dressed in jeans and shapeless tops but today, in her tailored business attire, I appreciated for the first time just how good a body she had. I was still lost for words but she filled in without missing a beat. "I thought that we would take lunch up here. We have it sent in from the deli over the road. It's very good and it allows us a little more privacy." I was still debating whether or not to shake her hand when she came and kissed me on the cheek. "It's been a long time." Before I could say anything more the food arrived and was set out on the table and then we were quickly joined by May's colleagues. "Let me introduce Nalini and Erin." The two women formed a stark contrast. Nalini looked to be of Indian extraction. She was tall, dressed completely in black, but her most striking feature was her shorn hair. It was barely a stubble over her whole scalp; cut back as if not to detract from her perfect face. Erin, despite the Irish name and accent, was a bubbly blonde. She was pretty in a cute sort of way, if that was your thing, but her clothes were a triumph of hope over ambition. She was a little dumpy but, nevertheless, wore a dress that was as low cut on her chest as it was high on her legs. May poured wine and we enjoyed the food whilst making small talk which centred mainly on she and I catching up. Given her obvious success I felt like the poor relation but she was at pains to put me at ease and she was effusive about the recent articles. Slowly, the conversation turned towards books and Nalini came into her own. She was managing editor of the original feminist imprint but she was very knowledgeable about the industry as a whole. She started to sound me out on any thoughts or ideas I might already have had. Unfortunately, when it came down to it, I was too vague and not helped when Nalini said that the most successful books were those that were fuelled by passion for a subject. They were usually the same books that needed the most editing. At this point May interjected. "I've invited Erin here to give an author's viewpoint." I have to say I was taken by surprise. What little Erin had added to the conversation seemed completely vacuous and I had not imagined her to be a writer. When she then referred to her recent book I nearly fell off my seat. She wrote under a pen name and her books sold by the truck load. It was immediately clear to me that, whilst one or two of her ideas might be deemed original, her literary skills were almost zero. Her books had to have been edited to within an inch of their lives. The more I listened to the nonsense she spouted the angrier I grew. May must have known that this was the sort of woman that would put me on edge. I began to think that she was never going to stop but then May simply cut across her. "Let's cut to the chase. The book I would like you to write, the book you want to write, should chronicle your descent into lesbian submission." I looked at her appalled. Not only was I shocked that she would say something like that in company but I was jolted by her perception. She smiled as she continued. "Do you want to deny that it's you in those photographs?" I sat trying to come to terms with my confused thoughts and she continued without waiting for an answer. "You know the ironic thing about how you mistreated me at university? I knew all along that you were a lesbian even if you didn't know it yourself. I could even have been attracted to you but I chose not to influence you in any way." It was too much to take in. Had she really known? I tried to get things back onto a normal track. "Look, I appreciate your hospitality but what am I really here for? Are you offering me a deal?" "Yes, I am. I think that your articles could be fleshed out into a bestseller. Obviously, you will need to widen your experience and learn more about yourself. That's why Erin is with us." I took a deep breath. "With all due respect to Erin, and her undoubted achievement, there is little or nothing she can teach me about writing." "You misunderstand. Erin is writing a new book in which she needs to describe her heroine's first lesbian experience. Now, in order to help her with that you are going to crawl under the table, you are going to politely ask her permission and then you are going to eat her out until she tells you to stop." The suggestion was contemptible but the assuredness with which she had spoken and the unwavering way in which she held my eye sent a tingle down my spine. I looked at Nalini but her demeanour was totally calm as if I had simply been asked to pour tea. Inevitably I turned towards Erin and, whilst she tried to look collected, her eyes were lit with greedy expectation. The real me resented this but I felt disembodied hovering over the immoral slut I had become looking to satisfy her debauched craving. When the two recombined any pretence at rationality was subsumed by the need of the corporeal. I no longer cared as I crouched beneath the table: at least here I did not have to see their faces. As I crawled towards Erin she opened her legs and I saw that she was not wearing panties. She had known all along that it would come to this. Even as she registered my disdain at her empty-headed advice she knew that I would be humbled. As I drew nearer the further evidence hung in the air. The reek of her was strong attesting a lengthy period of anticipatory arousal. Her pale thighs were a little pudgy, but nothing that a little structured exercise would not put right, and her sex looked befittingly plump. Her dusky labia stood proud and even in the subdued light beneath the table they shone with moisture. A Sense of Submission Saliva filled my mouth and I swallowed hard. I nudged between her legs now wanting to taste her but she lifted her skirt and held me still. I looked up into her triumphant eyes and she raised a quizzical eyebrow. In a searing moment of clarity I saw the insanity of what I was doing but I could no more prevent myself than stop breathing. I sold what was left of my pride and whispered. "May I?" "Be my guest." There was no finesse. She shrieked with laughter as I fell upon her sealing my mouth to her sex and pressing my tongue deep inside. I was rewarded with a surge of pent up arousal and I sucked upon her ravenously. Within seconds my own sex began to leak as, somewhere deep inside, switches were being thrown and my mind and body found a new configuration. It felt so natural as if, for years, I had been misaligned. Once again her arousal was stoking mine in a symbiosis that I had never felt with a male partner. It did not take her long to reach a climax but she did a good job of disguising it from the others. I was dimly aware of their conversation and occasional laughter but Erin wanted my total concentration as she shepherded me towards her clitoris. The second was a far more protracted affair as, even as I employed all of my new found skills, she was determined to savour the moment. My face and her thighs were wet with perspiration before she finally melted into another orgasm. She dismissed me with a deep, satisfied, sigh and I was immediately beset by a flush of embarrassment. How had a business meeting degenerated into this and how was I to extricate myself? I came out from under the table and, without meeting their eyes, I used a napkin to tidy myself up as best I could. When I was done I reached for my wine glass and drained the remaining contents in one gulp. I decided that the best, and only, option was to get up and leave without another word. They could laugh about it amongst themselves but I did not have to see any of them ever again. Not trusting my own judgement I looked towards Nalini hoping to gauge the atmosphere in the room but her expression was inscrutable. May broke the awkward silence. "She seems to find you particularly fascinating Nalini. Would you like to use her?" It took an instant for me to process the implications of what had been saidbut my sex seemed to react more quickly than my mind. I felt a swathe of heat, centred between my legs, spreading out across my whole body. Nalini looked me up and down dismissively, keeping me off balance, and then stood up. "I think I will." As if it were the most natural thing in the world she stood up, kicked off her shoes, and began to unfasten her designer jeans. With my heart racing I watched as she eased the black denim free then proceeded to remove her panties. I guessed that she was touching thirty but she had the body of a catwalk model. She sat back down again and nonchalantly hooked her long legs over the arms of the chair. Her casual wantonness almost made me climax on the spot and when she wordlessly gestured for me to approach I literally felt weak at the knees. I took my place between her legs and saw that the motif of shorn hair was repeated on her pubis but here it had been immaculately shaved into a representation of a labrys with the short handle pointing the way down to her sex. I had taken a Medieval Studies module at university and so its symbolism, and the current usage, was not lost on me. Her skin was the colour of rich honey but her labia were darker still. They stood proud of her cleft like a pair of open wings and they gradually shaded to an inviting pinkness. Almost reverentially I took each in turn between my own lips and licked at the fringes but even here there was a foretaste of what was to come. In truth the taste was familiar and exciting but in my mind I imbued it with a subtle exoticism. She did not hurry me and it was a long time before I relinquished this particular treat and then began a deeper survey. She was incredibly relaxed and I eased inside her effortlessly to lick the syrupy offering from the walls of her sex. Even knowing that I was being watched I felt curiously contented the only problem being an ever stronger need to do something about my own state of arousal. As things stood my panties were going to be beyond redemption. I felt as if we were conjoined. Her labia clung at my face as I stretched my tongue to its limit but now she wanted something more. Sensing her requirement I refocused my attention at the apex of her sex and here lay a fresh discovery. Her clitoris had unveiled itself and it was beyond anything that I had ever imagined. Any fisherman lucky enough to find a pearl this large could have retired with assured riches. I could feel its firm roundness as I used the flat of my tongue and she began to purr with pleasure. I became totally lost in her. The others were forgotten and time was of no consequence as I continued the act of veneration. There was a simple, blissful, relief from all my worldly cares. I fell into an easy rhythm, licking in a lazy figure of eight, and she touched the top of my head in a silent command to carry on exactly as I was. The result was a climax almost as majestic as she was. She stayed totally in control of herself regulating the ebb and flow until the very end when my face was baptized with gouts of warm moisture which dampened my hair and ran down to soak my blouse. When it was over she gracefully unwound her legs but my work was not finished. I preened her legs and her sex cleaning her of all residue even whilst her offering was drying on my skin. She got up from the seat and coolly put her clothes back on leaving me kneeling on the floor. My tongue was tired and my jaw was in danger of cramping but there was one more task to complete and, to my own surprise, I was both prepared and expectant. I turned to May with a renewed yearning but she smiled indulgently. "You have to learn that the cruellest twist of all...is denial." With that, and without another word, all three of them left the room. Chapter Five The formal offer was couriered to me the following day. The advance was eye-watering but the first draft had to be completed within six months in order to tap the interest generated by the original articles. In a side letter May said that she wanted more in the same vein. She was not looking for any attempt at professional analysis she simply wanted my thoughts, impressions and conclusions. She left it up to me whether or not I wanted to make it a first person narrative but strongly hinted that she wanted the board room episode included. From my standpoint there were two stories to be told. One was the recognition that I had been evading and denying my true sexuality. This was the easy part. The second was the fulfilment that I had found in adopting a submissive role. The fact was that I was seriously troubled. I could see myself living a perfectly normal life with another woman but could I suppress this new need I had found within myself? My immediate reaction was to fix myself up a couple of normal dates to try and give myself some sort of benchmark. To this end I signed up with a lesbian dating site but I found that it was fraught with many of the same difficulties that I had encountered with men. The women I met up with were just not my type; they were not people I would readily befriend let alone anything beyond that. My next attempt was to try a couple of lesbian clubs, including one that was bdsm themed, but whilst I found some of the women, especially those of a dominant persuasion, very attractive I could not fully engage with what was going on. The only good thing to come out of it was the material it provided but, at this stage, the book had no coherence. All of my instincts were telling me to go back to where it all started, to speak to Jessica again, but this was now my story and not hers. It was then, out of the blue, that I received a totally unexpected phone call. Evelyn called to confirm that she had received her payment and to thank me once again for the commission. She went on to ask me if I would care to join her for a celebratory meal. I accepted but I put the phone down with very mixed feelings. I waited for her the following evening in the bar at "Chez Alec" being the most bohemian restaurant I could think of. She arrived ten minutes late but she entered the restaurant like a force of nature. She wore a dress that displayed her curves to the utmost not least her impressive décolletage. She wore her hair up, which helped to tame it a little, and she had applied very minimal make-up. I was not the only one staring at her impressive legs as she sashayed across to hug me effusively. With one or two obvious considerations I felt very easy in her company and it was a number of hours later before we got up to leave. I expected her to ask me back and a part of me was hoping for a repeat of what had gone before. Much to my surprise she kissed me primly on the cheek, with no hint of our former intimacy, and said very simply. "I'd like to see you again." As she departed in a taxi I felt like a teenager. The prospect of a second 'date' had me stupidly excited. In the next few weeks we met up six times and not once did she come on to me. It was an old fashioned courtship, a slow getting to know one another, and I loved it. Our partings left me as frustrated as hell but I did not want to force the pace. Finally, after a night spent at a new gallery opening, she invited me back to her studio. I expected coffee but she led me by the hand to her sumptuously appointed bedroom. She had me stand beside her beautifully carved four-poster and then she slowly began to undress me as if I were a precious gift. As each article of clothing was removed she stroked my skin and as she knelt to remove my panties I thought my legs were going to buckle. She eased me back onto the richly quilted bed cover and then undressed herself. I held my breath as her magnificent body was teasingly revealed but then she surprised me as she put on a short satin night dress. She smiled when she saw my disappointment but she came and laid down next to me. "Tonight it's all about you." She rose over me and touched her lips to mine. For a few seconds we just breathed one another but then she brought our mouths together and I felt the tip of her tongue reaching out. The overall impression was one of wonderful softness. I had always enjoyed kissing but now knew that I had never really experienced it. There was no imperative to bring things to the next stage it was just a long languid enjoyment of one another, our tongues dancing together as if we had known each other all our lives. I became so absorbed that I initially failed to notice as she began to stroke my shoulder before her hand found its way to my breast. At first she grazed with just her fingertips before more boldly testing its shape and form. This was not the clumsy fumbling that I was used to. The artist in her had an appreciation of the feminine contours whilst the woman understood the sensations she could engender. My nipples became engorged long before she touched them and when she did it was with a feather-light caress seeking out the boundaries and discovering how I reacted. I loved being stroked in this way but I had never considered someone with such finesse. It was an age before she brought her thumbs into play and began to gently pinch and my sex felt as if a direct connection had been forged. I was seeping and I was eager for her to venture downwards but she had other ideas. She took my nipple between her lips and her tongue flitted over the tip as she gently sucked. I felt a lurch in the pit of my stomach and with it the comprehension that she was inexorably driving me towards the edge. Despairing of any man I had tried so many times to bring myself to orgasm this way but always grew impatient and thought it was a myth. Now she was dispelling it. Her tongue circled the whole of my nipple and then came back to the teat at irregular intervals whilst her fingers worked a similar magic on my other breast. Getting hotter by the second and I had to fight the urge to fidget, not wanting to do anything that would disturb the equilibrium. I was teetering and when, finally, she gently nipped me with her teeth and applied a correspondingly dull pressure with her thumb and finger it was the trigger I sought. It was not a tsunami but more a series of heavy waves each in turn bearing me up to be held still and then released only to be raised even higher. It was wonderful in itself but it most certainly left me wanting more. I had the impression that Evelyn could have produced an even stronger reaction had she wished but she had only painted the first strokes. I sighed as she repositioned herself but then stiffened in expectation as she kissed a trail down towards my navel. It is deep set and I have always been conscious of it, fearing that it suggestive of a bigger belly, but she began to lavish attention as if it were a mystical cave. I had never thought of it as an erogenous zone but her delicate exploration was already rekindling the waves of pleasure which, I thought, had ebbed entirely. She worked purposefully and only gradually did I appreciate that she was telling me with her tongue what was to come. With this understanding I shifted my hips wanting her to fulfil her promise but she stayed as she was forcing me to relax and be patient. When she deigned to move it was at a glacial pace, kissing as she went, whilst all the time her knowing hands continued to trace and titillate the outline of my body. By the time she reached my thighs they were sheened in perspiration and she licked them lasciviously with the flat of her tongue. She was almost driving me insane with need but still made me wait before she assayed the delta of my sex. She ran her finger lightly along the fringes of my swollen labia and then sucked on it appreciatively. The look on her face as she closed her eyes was one of pure lust and I groaned in anticipation. She replaced her finger with her tongue and her touch was lighter still but it was enough to make my sex ooze. Still not to be hurried she continued to lick as if imprinting every detail in her memory. My head was clear of all thought except of her and her devoted attention. When she sealed her mouth to my sex and her tongue worked its spell inside me I was actually crying tears of joy. I could not hold back my second orgasm nor did she attempt to deny me. She read every nuance, increasing the depth of penetration each time I was buoyed up and then relaxing a little as I paused before restarting the ascent. I could feel myself squeezing hard against her tongue but she showed no distress. She stayed with me until the dam broke and I felt a heavenly flooding release. She continued to lick and swallow for the whole time that it took me to recover and I feared that I would exhaust her but I had underestimated her determination. She resumed her ministrations of my labia which, if anything, were feeling even more sensitive. My whole body was quickly stirred and, whilst I would not have thought it possible, I sensed that there was better yet to come. Over the next few minutes, little by little, she changed the point of concentration until she was centred on the crown of my sex. She licked in tightening circles and my clitoris engorged in response. I was almost panting with desire but still she avoided the gem itself. It was becoming ever more difficult to resist the impulse to use my fingers to open myself up to her but I forced myself to calm down. The reward, when at last it came , was almost beyond words. I was acutely aware of every subtle change as she varied the degree of contact and pace in her quest to understand my innermost need. In so doing she removed any element of doubt. There was no fear of being rushed or left disappointed as so often in the past. She was perfectly in tune with me reading the rhythms of my body and bringing me to a perfect pitch. As I reached orgasm she helped me to retain control, to measure and enjoy each ecstatic increment until my body reached an undreamed of nirvana. I wanted to hold myself there forever but my inner strength finally failed me and I slumped in a state of delicious exhaustion. I felt very guilty when I found that I had fallen asleep. The room was much darker and I had been covered up but I barely had time to orientate myself before I felt a nuzzling form beneath the quilt and the pure delight of a tireless tongue... Chapter Six The following morning I tried to apologise but Evelyn was having none of it. I hoped that we could fix another date, and very soon, but I was to be disheartened. She told me that I had to finish the book and, when it was done, she would be there for me if that was what I wanted. I managed to leave her studio before the tears started but in reality I was more confused than ever. After all that she had given was she suggesting that, in order to be with her, I would have to accede to her dominant trait? On the journey home I knew that the previous night had, in some way, been a pivotal moment and the understanding of it was the key to completion of the book. Sitting at my desk I randomly wrote down all of my thoughts and impressions as well as the questions I was asking of myself. It formed a long untidy list but somewhere in it I caught a glimpse of something. I put it to one side hoping that it would reveal itself if I left it alone for a day or two. Towards the weekend I received a call from May. I told her, a little untruthfully, that the bulk of the book was prepared but that was not her reason for contacting me. She told me that she had a release from the magazine for the Jessica material but her personal approval was also needed. I assumed that her legal people would deal with it but May told me that these things went a lot more smoothly when conducted informally. To that end she wanted me to fix up a meeting with Jessica. I had broached the topic with Jessica at the outset and she seemed enthusiastic about the project and looked forward to an extended reappraisal of our sessions together. Now, when I told her that the publisher wished to meet, her interest was piqued. In keeping with her wish to keep things on a casual basis May asked if we could meet at Jessica's house. I fixed the meeting for eight p.m. but when I arrived May was already there and the pair of them seemed to be getting along just fine. Jessica poured wine and the formalities were tied up quickly. I have to say that I was impressed with the way that May handled the negotiations. She was slick, confident, and a world away from the woman I knew previously. She even broached the possibility of Jessica producing a book of her own, an idea that left me with very mixed feelings. It felt more than a little odd to be sitting there, holding a normal conversation, with two women who had seen me abase myself in quite the way that I had. May even went to lengths to flatter me. "You write so well. The third person narrative you've employed gives no hint that you were actually the victim. You were the victim, right? You've allowed the reader to put themselves in the place of either participant with equal facility." There seemed little point in denying it. At heart I wanted this to be a serious study, that's why I had gone along with the pain that Jessica had inflicted on me, but I was no fool. Conveying an understanding was one thing but it was the inherent titillation that would ultimately sell the book. May brought me back to reality when she leaned forward eagerly. A Sense of Submission "May I see the room?" Jessica smiled as she got up. "Of course." She was wearing a pale yellow dress that was little more than a chemise. It seemed provocative but we were in her home and so who was I to judge. I did notice that May was giving her legs an appreciative glance as she led the way. When Jessica opened the door my heart quickened. The room was as large as the lounge. In the centre was a raised podium above which was the bar from which I had been suspended. Around it there was more equipment and, once again, it appeared to me that no expense had been spared in fitting it out. May was suitably impressed. "Oh my word...Soundproofed?" "Yes, but the house is detached anyway." May wandered around examining the various fixtures. The largest looked more like a piece of exercise equipment. It had a recumbent seat set in front of a large padded hummock. "Intriguing. How does it work?" Jessica looked as if she was about to embark on an explanation but then she smiled. "It's probably easier if I demonstrate." She turned to me and said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world "Get undressed." I do not know if it was the setting, their presence, or the total incongruity of what she said but her words hit me like a cosh. I looked at May but she just raised an amused eyebrow. I stood dumbfounded but then Jessica took hold of the hem of her dress and raised it fractionally. It was a simple gesture but it had a totally disproportionate effect. It was the hint of a promise and my tongue moved reflexively in my mouth. I was little more than an automaton as I started to remove my clothes. Looking back I told myself that I was simply trying to avoid coming across as a spoilsport but it was a feeble avoidance of the truth. Jessica patted the hummock and gestured for me to lay over it. I did as she asked glad now to partially hide my nakedness. She crossed the room, opened a cupboard, and said to May. "Would you like to help?" They returned holding an array of leather cuffs and belts and I began to mildly protest suggesting that it was time to bring proceedings to a close. Jessica laughed and told me to shush. They drew down my arms and legs and used cuffs to bind my wrists and ankles to fastenings at the foot of the hummock. Once I was secured they employed the belts across my back and around my thighs to completely immobilize me and May seemed to take particular delight in cinching them as tight as possible. It was an odd feeling. I was totally helpless but there was a calmness to be drawn from the fact that I was no longer in control of my own destiny. Added to this my legs were lewdly spread and my sex was pressed to the slightly roughened leather surface setting up sensations which were unwelcome just at that moment. Now that I was bound in place it was obvious to both May and I what was to happen next. She looked across at Jessica and asked. "Would you mind?" Jessica smiled in response. "Please. Go ahead." May did not bother to undress altogether. She looked at me as she casually removed her skirt and divested herself of her panties. A little awkwardly she settled into the seat and made herself comfortable. I was left staring down between her open legs at the thicket of dark curls that dressed her sex; this was the first time she had exposed herself to me even though we had previously shared a bedroom and bathroom. The device left us some way apart but I could already smell her excited state and wondered what happened next. The answer came when Jessica handed her a remote control. May experimented with the bottoms and gave a squeal of excitement as the seat smoothly began to move. Within seconds she had it mastered and she raised herself bringing her sex to press firmly against my mouth. "This must have cost you a fortune!" Jessica touched me on the back as she replied. "I have a client whom you would recognize. She's a television actress, happily married, but she has certain predilections. She has a young admirer and she brings her here to avail herself of my facilities. She paid to have this constructed and installed." In the midst of my anguish I wondered if I could use this titbit in the book knowing that the answer had to be no. The press feeding frenzy if such a thing were to come out would not bear thinking about. May settled more comfortably into the seat and shifted her hips forward fractionally with the result that my nose was pressed deep into her damp fur where her scent was almost overpowering. The calm that imbued me up to that point gave way to a sudden urge to rebel but, short of biting her, there was nothing I could do. Some part of me still yearned for her but, for the moment, I stubbornly refused to co-operate. A sharp snap, and a sudden pain, made me open my mouth in a stifled scream of indignation. It felt as if a hot iron had been set to my backside and it was immediately followed by a second searing strike to my other cheek. Jessica came and knelt by my side showing me the riding crop that she was holding in her hand. "I'm sure I don't have to spell it out; if I think that you are not putting in enough effort..." I wanted to protest but I was suffocated by Mays's sex which was now appreciably wetter. Jessica disappeared from view and I braced myself for more pain but I was obviously being given an opportunity to co-operate. It was galling on two counts. Firstly the fact that I had no choice but perhaps, even worse, I actually wanted to do it. I was immersed in her warmth and moisture and it was acting on me like a drug. I began to lick softening the tight curls before applying a gentle pressure. Her sex opened to me with almost obscene ease and a deep hum issued from her throat. The sound reverberated through her and I felt it with my lips. Encouraged, I worked my tongue a little more quickly but my awkward position was putting a continual strain on my neck. "Is it satisfactory?" "Not quite, she should be able to get her tongue a lot deeper than that." The sting of her criticism was matched by two crisp strikes of the crop reigniting the dying pain that tormented my buttocks. I wailed resentfully but May's response was to mash me more firmly into her heated maw. Her sex seemed amorphous and I was finding it difficult to orientate and establish the best method of bringing her quickly to fruition. Submitting to her exhortation I thrust as deeply as I could releasing an inner pool the richness of which swamped my senses. The pain that I was feeling receded to be replaced by euphoria and an intense thrilling of my nerve endings emanating from my sex. I began to devour her knowing that, if I could bring her to a climax, it would resonate sufficiently for me to join her. At some point Jessica playfully slapped me again but I was beyond caring. May tried to hold back but my fervour took her by surprise. She wanted me to find her clitoris but I stayed rooted deep inside her where the ever stronger spasms of her muscles betrayed her imminent release. She came violently, shaking in her seat and tight pressed to my face. In response I opened my mouth wide and screamed inside her as my own orgasm strained my restricted body. Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to ease herself away a little as I gasped for breath but she was still close enough that I could see her sex throbbing as she slowly came down from on high. She needed Jessica's help to get up from her seat and, even then, she was visibly unsteady on her feet. "That was really something else!" "I'm glad you enjoyed it...but we're not quite finished yet" With that she eased herself into the seat that May had vacated and slowly parted her legs. She must have been able to see for herself that I was totally spent but it was of no consequence to her. She took up the control pad but, to my surprise, she moved the seat backwards until we were about twelve inches apart. She nonchalantly raised her dress, to confirm that she was not wearing anything beneath, and then she brought her fingers to her sex. Over the next minute or two she watched me as she teased herself and I felt my mouth watering as beads of moisture seeped from her. My tiredness was forgotten as I awaited the opportunity to serve and her smile told me that she was fully aware of my longing. Continuing her leisurely manipulation she addressed herself to May. "I could do with a little stimulus..." Her meaning was unclear, not least because May was out of my sight, and I remained enraptured by her total inhibition. The answer came in a fresh blaze of pain. This was not the sharp sting of the riding crop but a dull, heavy, splat that flared right across my backside. "Very good...again." I shrieked in defiance but the second blow fell setting up a new burning track on virgin flesh. I turned my head to entreat her but she was already raising the leather strap for a third time. There was a look of malevolence in her eyes as she struck me again. Her technique was unrefined, with the clearly unfamiliar implement, but that made it no less agonizing. I twisted back towards Jessica hoping for a show of pity from that quarter but she now had two fingers deep within whilst her thumb worked purposefully on her clitoris. Her eyes brightened with excitement as May continued to set about me and the tears streaming down my face only seemed to heighten her pleasure. Only when she had obviously reached a climax did my tormentress relent but, by then, I was almost beyond pain. Chapter Seven For the next ten days I was a complete mess. The marks on my skin had faded but the mental scars were as vivid as ever. I came close, a number of times, to giving up on the book altogether but the plain fact was that I needed the money. In my darker moments I wondered if May was aware of this and had used it to her advantage. Ironically, I was excited about the material I had accumulated but it still needed wrapping up in some way. One of the major decisions was in deciding whether or not to include my night with Evelyn. She was inextricably bound up with the journey I had taken but I wanted it to be a different facet. She had told me to come back when the book was finished but my need to see her again was becoming overwhelming. I was researching a new article, which I hoped to sell and so help me out of the cul de sac that the book had become, but I could not fully focus. After twenty minutes of staring at an all but empty screen I surrendered and picked up the phone. My heart leapt when I heard her voice and she was genuinely excited to hear from me. It was her suggestion that we returned to "Chez Alec" but I felt a pang of jealousy when she said that the waitress was really cute. I spent a lot of time getting ready and it felt a little strange deciding how I could make myself most attractive to her. In the end I dressed demurely and only later considered whether or not there had been something sub-conscious in my choice. On this occasion she arrived first and it transpired that she had booked the Gide room. André Gide had reputedly lived in the apartment above the restaurant on his short sojourn to London during the First World War. The dining table was ostensibly the original that he had used as a writing desk and the room was decorated in period style. She must have noted my hesitation because, as she stood to kiss me on the cheek, she laughed. "Don't worry. I'm paying." The private room provided a delightful intimacy and in her easy company I felt more relaxed than I had for weeks. The food, as ever, was simple but delicious and we drank house wine by the carafe. The only slight discord was the fact that she had arranged for us to be served by the young French waitress that she had commented on previously. I could not deny that she was a lovely young woman but I did not like the impression she gave that we had a secret that was safe with her. We both choose to skirt the topic of my book but it could not be altogether avoided. When I was sufficiently fortified with alcohol I brought her up to date. I mentioned the visit to Jessica without going into detail but she touched my hand and said tenderly. "Did she hurt you?" I cried and then told her everything. As I spoke I recognized my own weakness and felt that, in some way, I had been unfaithful to her. She listened quietly and, in that way of hers, she took my face in her hands. She kept her eyes locked with mine for long seconds and then she leaned over and kissed me fully on the mouth. I could have stayed like that forever but she slowly broke away. "I don't pretend to understand Jessica. I think she thrives on the theatre of it all but she seems to take a perverse pleasure in taking money from women who want those things done to them even though her trust fund will see her okay for life. Her clients? I guess that the pain gives them an endorphin rush but, like you, the real key is the relinquishing of control." I wanted her to go on but the waitress chose that moment to come back in and replenish our glasses. Evelyn paused momentarily and then continued. "I think you and I are good together, and I hope you feel the same way, but we are going to need some ground rules. Firstly, there may be some discomfort involved, but I think that you enjoy that; I would never consciously hurt you. Secondly, I would like to involve others from time to time but only as a couple never by ourselves." As I listened my emotions were totally scrambled. The possibility of being in a relationship with her made my heart soar but the mention of 'others' left me perplexed. She could see me wrestling with my thoughts and smiled. "I think I know you better than you know yourself. It's something that would excite you. Take our friend here..." The waitress was doing her best to pretend that she had heard nothing of consequence but now Evelyn touched her on the hip. "... how would you like to come over here and kneel in front of her?" As so often in recent months the bizarreness of the suggestion threw me completely off kilter but, at the same time, a frisson of excitement surged through me. I looked at the waitress expecting an expression of shock or anger but all I found was sheer depravity. Had she been primed? Bribed, even? She was tall but appeared taller still as she slyly raised her skirt and apron to reveal her long slender legs. My suspicions seemed confirmed when I saw her expensive, lacy, underwear which did not seem appropriate for a day spent waiting tables. Once again I felt disconnected from the real world and I was almost cramped with excitement as Evelyn stroked the girl's pert derrière. "She's waiting for you..." Her voice was hypnotic and it was like feeling the warm whisper of her words against my sex. I was not sure if I was more anxious to please her or the girl as I fell to my knees and caught the musky waft of her arousal. It was insane. I doubted if she was yet twenty years old but here I was making my obeisance. My hands trembled, causing her to smile, as I slid her flimsy panties down to her ankles. Her sex was adorned with a frizz of dark hair, razor shaped into a sharp triangle, which was in stark contrast to the tempest of curls that passed for her hairstyle. I imagined that many men had knelt before this shrine but I wondered if she was experienced with another woman. She tried to remain coolly aloof but her shallow breathing along with the slight tension in her posture told a different story. My hands replaced Evelyn's as I cradled her smooth cheeks and drew myself on to her. There was a moment of hesitancy as I applied my tongue but, once she was sure that it was really going to happen, she accepted me willingly. A mild astringency told me that she had washed herself in anticipation but it was quickly replaced by the rich taste of a young woman in heat. The temptation to push my tongue as deep as I could and sate my own savage need was countered by a subliminal understanding that there were two sides to this bargain. Accordingly, I calmed myself and licked her more purposefully savouring the warm swell of her labia beneath my tongue. The compensation for this more considered approach was a gradual increase in my own arousal as I began to make her moan. How long we remained sealed together I had no idea. The possibility that someone might come into the room only added to my feeling of debauchery but I suspected that safeguards had been put in place. One thing was for certain the girl had now totally abandoned herself to my attentions. My face was wet with her offering and she held me by the head urging me on. I did not disappoint. I snaked my tongue inside her and the contractions I felt confirmed that she was close. For the next few moments I did nothing more than thrust very gently but she was becoming crazed with desire and her legs were threatening to fail her. I slipped from her eliciting a panicked yelp but it gave way to an almost obscene growl as I took her clitoris between my lips. I alternated a slow circling with rapid flicks of my tongue and she was pleading with me not to stop. She was gasping for breath between entreaties as her climax took hold and I sealed my mouth to her and began to suck. Her sex was pulsing as she continued to erupt and I swallowed hard draining her of all she had to give. Evelyn had the foresight to give up her seat just in time to allow her to collapse in a state of total dishevelment. She then knelt in front of me and kissed me deeply sharing the girl's taste before she whispered. "I hope you haven't tired yourself out. Today it's my turn to be pampered and you have a long night ahead of you..." Epilogue After that things moved so quickly it was like being caught up in a whirlwind. My relationship with Evelyn intensified and the idea of moving in together came from me. I knew, even before I made the suggestion, that it was what she wanted too but the decision had to come from me. It was the final affirmation of who I wanted to be. This happy ending also gave the book its final form. It gave me a last chapter which helped me to reappraise and refine all that I had written up to that point. May was totally professional in her editing and marketing of the book and if early sales lived up to their promise it looked like a best seller. There was already talk of a possible television dramatization. I was given an advance on a second book and May took me by surprise when she said that it need not be a sequel. Her faith in my abilities as a writer was warming and, in truth, I was reluctant, at this stage, to pour out any more of myself onto the printed page. As I lay on the bed I was already sketching out a novel with a lesbian premise based on my newly acquired insight into the world of art dealing. If I was honest with myself the main character was an imagined version of Jessica in years to come and the thought of her, even now, gave rise to feelings of something unrequited. I smiled to myself and listened to the voices next door. The room was nice and warm and there was a strange comfort in lying there naked my limbs bound to the four corners of the bed. Evelyn was entertaining Hatsue a buxom Japanese gallery owner, who was completely unaware of my existence, and I was left deliciously on edge wondering whether or not an invitation would be extended for her to join our little game...