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How Beautiful Are The Feet

By: bellacanta



On the tv screen, Gloria was reporting from Albania, her handsome, slightly weathered face bearing down intensely into the camera, as if she had to finish her report and get away before someone shot her. Madeline's heart did that old flutter. She had just finished putting little Hannah to bed. About once every 3 or 4 months Madeline saw Gloria reporting from somewhere. In the past 6 years they had managed two meetings. Two lunches. After one of them, they had held hands briefly on a park bench, Gloria's larger, unpainted fingers closing warmly over Madeline's smaller, manicured hand. Madeline had been wearing silver nail polish that day. Gloria had looked at it and laughed. In Gloria's universe, glimmering silver nail polish was a myth, belonging to a legendary world of unicorns and princes. 

Madeline's nails: they were strung over the memory of that year like Christmas lights. They had met in September of 1994 at Melville, the women's college west of Boston. That dangerous year. Madeline was returning for her junior year, back to the familiar school, but to an unfamiliar room-mate. The new room-mate was Gloria, who had transferred from a small college in upstate New York. Gloria was a senior. 

Madeline had arrived at Melville a week late that September, because of the death of her grandmother. The evidence of Gloria was everywhere in the room: a clutter of books, clothes, shoes and magazines, a camera bag with cords snaking out of it, a couple of field hockey sticks. They were lucky to have this room. All the young women - and here at Melville they were always referred to as "women", not as "girls" or "ladies"; serious young "women" were supposed to have outgrown those confining archetypes - all the young women coveted the corner rooms of this, the oldest residence at Melville. They were circular, and formed a turret that rose up into the sky, the highest point on campus. They were larger, and they had the best views, especially of the long sloping grass that led to the small lake. 

Madeline unpacked her suitcases. She was studying music performance, a soprano. All she knew about Gloria was that she was a senior. Later she learned Gloria was studying economics; it wasn't until the next year, at graduate school, that Gloria decided on journalism. But even in her senior year, she was writing articles for the student newspaper, always carrying that video camera around. 

Madeline needed a shower. She had to replace the sticky film of her flight from Pittsburgh. She threw her robe on and got out her small soft-sided cosmetic bag, unzipping the lid and laying out about 15 shades of nail polish on her dresser. She didn't deliberate long before choosing dark blue - not quite midnight blue but darker than navy. Revlon called it "Twilight Ink". 

This was the image she presented when Gloria burst into the room: knees together, leaning forward in her faded red terry robe, her foot contorted at an angle as she applied the last dab of paint to her baby toe. The door swung open, and in strode Gloria, dragging her field hockey stick for a few steps before simply dropping it loudly on the time-stained hardwood floor. You would have expected someone new at Melville to be just a little tentative, but not Gloria; she rolled in like a weather system. Like a hurricane, if you wanted to know the truth. 

"Oh hi," said Gloria and walked directly over to shake Madeline's hand. "You must be Madeline. I'm Gloria. So we're room-mates. Just let me get out of this stuff and shower off."

Madeline felt her hand squeezed in the larger young woman's sweaty, muddy hand, her new friend's face flushed red with the exertion of her field hockey, some streaks of mud down the sides of her legs. Gloria wiped the back of her forearm across her brow, then her nose, then took the elastic out of her pony tail and let her long wavy dark brown hair fall messily down her back and shoulders. She sat on the edge of the bed. First, she unlaced her boots and kicked them off, half-way across the room. Then the small shin-guards, similarly discarded. Next she peeled off her t-shirt, blue, with the discreet Melville crest over her heart outlined in white, which she just dropped on the floor between her shoes. She stood up and dropped her pleated skirt in a pool around her feet, not bothering to step out of it but unpeeling her mud-scarred knee socks and leaving them in the centre of the skirt opening, the socks standing up like cloth slinkys. Finally, she reached back and stretched out of her functional sports bra, and tore off the spandex short-tights that she wore under the pleated skirt. All the time, she was breathing pretty hard. Without another word, she strode naked to the bathroom, leaving behind her this scattered pile of athletic clothes like it had been blown there by the wind. 

Madeline smiled. Gloria was tall, at least 5'10, with a hard, athletic body, muscles like a guy's. Madeline noticed girls' bodies; she was part artist, and partly attracted. Gloria appeared a few minutes later, rubbing her head with a towel, her dark hair sticking to her neck and her forehead and her cheek and her shoulders. Gloria's lack of timidity was inspiring. Madeline studied Gloria's legs - not so much graceful as impressive because of the sharply defined muscularity. She looked at what must have been the hardest stomach she had seen on a girl. Nowadays, they would have called it a six-pack. Her breasts were neither large nor small: a b-cup for sure, with dark brown aureoles, hard nipples right in the bullseye. Her pubic hair was trimmed, but not a great deal. Tidied would have been a better word. 

Gloria stopped rubbing her hair suddenly and looked at Madeline studying her. "You don't mind, do you? Running around without clothes? I just can't be bothered, but if it makes you feel weird..."

Madeline smiled the slow, self-contained half-smile that would come to bemuse Gloria so much. "Oh no. I like it, actually. If you don't mind, I don't mind."

"Good," Gloria said, and went on rubbing her hair, while her tight breasts bounced. After a minute or so, Gloria looked down at Madeline, studying her new room-mate in return, still in the same pose, the small bottle of blue nail polish in her fingers. 

She walked over to the foot of Madeline's bed, bent to stare at her toenails, reached out a hand to turn the big toe just slightly, the dark blue nail polish contrasting the white skin of Madeline's feet. "Nice," she said. "Fucking cool." Then she noticed the array of bottles on Madeline's dresser. "Holy shit." She laughed briefly. "Popsicle toes."

"Popsicle toes?" The cuteness was so incongruous in the mouth of this hockey player. 

"That's what my Oma used to call them."

"Oma?" queried Madeline.

"Yeah. My grandmother. She always used to paint our toes when we were kids, and she would call them popsicle toes. Used to drive my mother fucking nuts."

She went back to her side of the room, pulled out a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, which she slipped on with no underwear. "Let's go down and eat."

Madeline smiled and stood, undoing her robe and throwing it on the bed, walking naked to her dresser. Her body was smaller and softer than Gloria's, no angles and bulges of calf and thigh muscles, just curves. She felt good, her nipples hardening as she pullied on a pair of jeans and a top. No underwear for her either. Inside there was just the slightest, darkest hum of possibilities. 

Gloria was the captain of the Varsity field hockey, it turned out. She had been recruited. A week later, the afternoon of their first game, against Radcliffe, Madeline decided to go down and watch. She got there just after half time. She was stunned. She had never seen anything like it, the intensity the girls played with. The "women", rather. And in the middle of it, clearly the best player on the field, was Gloria. She knew field hockey was supposed to be non-contact, but Gloria played it like it was football, or ice hockey. She would drive toward a knot of players who were scrambling for the ball. It was like every encounter was a game of chicken. The other players would sense her, it seemed, without seeing her, and there would open up in front of Gloria a sudden wedge of space, like a sudden window in time when everyone else stopped but her, and she would slip through it, and emerge on the other side, with the ball, her glistening, mud-streaked legs crunching the ground, her ponytail trailing behind like the tail of a comet. With her mouthguard in, she always looked like she had a fat lip, like someone had punched her. It didn't look out of place. 

Madeline watched and absorbed it all, disengaged, unable to summon the enthusiasm and fire she saw in the other girls who were watching and yelling and screaming. Go Melville Go. Kill 'em! Madeline felt more like she was observing paintings in a gallery, from an aesthetic distance. It was weird that people could get so wrapped up in a game. Spectators that is. Players she could understand. Madeline was intense herself. Just because she was quiet didn't mean she was docile. 

After the game, Madeline went back to their room, slipped out of her jeans and sweat top, put on her thick terry robe, and took out her score of The Messiah. The game was no longer in her mind. The game was now catalogued with all other new experiences, a little flake of the collage that was her life. 

As always, when she was studying a score, she took out some nail polish and absent-mindedly did her fingernails and toenails. It was a bit of a ritual. This time, she chose a bright pink, almost hot pink. It was called "Rock Candy" by the people at Max Factor. She looked at the score of The Messiah between her legs as she leaned forward. She knew the Messiah inside out. They had all sung it half a dozen times before. She just had to look at the notations Barter had insisted on for her solo. Professor Barter was a stickler, clear and emphatic; she knew exactly what she wanted. All of the girls had a solo at some point; about 15 of them had solos in the Messiah. Madeline applied her nail polish flawlessly, singing the notes inside her mind. 

By the time Gloria slammed the door open, Madeline had entirely forgotten about the game. She didn't look up, applying the last dab of Rock Candy to her baby toe before returning to the next page of the score. "Nice game," she said absently, without looking up. 

Gloria was going through her usual routine of dropping the collection of field hockey sticks noisily to the floor, unlacing and kicking off her boots.

"Fucking right. We kicked ass." Then silence. The silence was what caught Madeline's attention, not Gloria's noisy racket. Then there was the sound of breathing. Madeline heard Gloria inhale audibly somewhere near her as she screwed the top back on the little bottle of nail polish. It was like the sound of someone inhaling an asthma inhaler. Madeline still didn't look up. 

She didn't look up, in fact, until Gloria stood at the foot of Madeline's bed, leaning over, her exercise-flushed thighs pressing against the top bar of the iron railing that formed part of the footboard of the bed. Madeline watched as Gloria leaned forward. The taller girl's face was still flushed from her game, and she hadn't taken off her sweaty t-shirt or her pleated game skirt. The outline of her sports bra was very visible; her nipples stood out like little thimbles. 

Madeline's mouth went dry as she looked up. Gloria kept reaching forward. It must have happened quickly but it seemed to happen out of time, like a movie broken down into hundreds of frames so you could see each ripple in Gloria's forearms and upper arms as she leaned forward. Her hands closed around Madeline's ankles and she slowly pulled Madeline's legs flat, her eyes studying the smaller girl's toes, then methodically, clinically moving up Madeline's calves and thighs. Madeline didn't bother closing the robe that had parted open at her thighs, revealing her white cotton panties. 

Madeline just looked up, her mouth completely dry. "Is the door locked?" she said, whispering hoarsely. 

Gloria said nothing, but looked into Madeline's eyes. Just the same way she looked on the hockey pitch: like a Viking checking out a village she had come to plunder, brooding and ready for blood. "You are so fucking sexy. Sitting there putting on your nail polish on those pretty little feet of yours. Have you ever been fucked by a girl?"

Madeline's heart was pounding in her chest. "Yes," she said. She could feel her nipples tingling. "Is the door locked?" she repeated louder, more insistently. Now, right now, the ache to be fucked by her athletic room-mate rumbled inside her. Everything hung suspended for a few seconds, like those strange still moments before a rocket lifted off: an explosion, a flash of heat and light and smoke before the earth actually started quaking, and she cut through the stratosphere. 

"Yes, it's locked." Gloria climbed over the end of the bed, her pleated skirt rising up along her strong thighs as she straddled the smaller girl's legs. She felt the after-game heat of Gloria's thighs and crotch under her skirt as they settled on her shins and knees. Gloria pushed Madeline back onto the bed firmly, and started to undo Madeline's robe. She wasted no time in opening it up, and pushing it aside. Then she just looked over Madeline's body, a pirate-queen gloating over a freshly opened treasure chest. Madeline's chest was heaving, her hands spread to her side gripping the sheets. Her white skin was starting to flush; her nipples were brown and hard. She bit her lip, feeling the lava of responses flow down her flesh. 

"God your body is fucking awesome," Gloria said. She reached her hands forward and mashed Madeline's breasts with her hockey hands, strongly, roughly, making sure the heel of her palm scraped over Madeline's nipples. Madeline whimpered and jerked, but kept grasping the sheet with her fingers. She was groaning very quietly now with each intake of breath. Gloria stopped mashing Madeline's breasts then quickly ran her fingers back and forth over the smaller girl's nipples, then pinching them, pulled them and twisted them. 

"Don't move," she said. "Don't fucking move. Understand?" Madeline just nodded and gripped the sheet tighter. 

Gloria did have fingernails, they were just shorter than Madeline's and one or two of them were always chipped. She dragged her fingers down Madeline's front to her tummy, then down the outside of her panties into her pussy, pressing the gusset into Madeline's cleft. "You're wet, you're fucking wet. Good." She pressed her fingers into the panties at Madeline's slit, then slid the panties up and down along the seeping channel, lifting her clit with the wet, panty-clad fingers. "You're fucking wet and you want to be fucked, don't you, Maddy?" Gloria had not called her Maddy before; from now on she always would. Gloria slipped her fingers under the elastic of Madeline's panties; Madeline lifted her ass off the bed so Gloria could slip the panties off easily. Madeline just lay there, her hips shifting, her mound lifting with each breath. 

Gloria wasted no time. With one hand she parted Madeline's pussy lips, and then drove two fingers into her pussy. Madeline jerked and writhed, moaning as loud as she dared, fearful the girls next door might hear. She did her best to stay still; she kept gripping the sheets as tightly as she could. The scent of her own pussy mixed with the sweaty athletic smell of the girl fucking her. Gloria's skin felt so hot. Gloria's fingers curled up inside her, almost lifting her off the bed, them slid out and back in, fucking her slowly. "There, you little fuckgirl, feel me fucking you. I am going to fuck you hard and fast. Fuck yes. I just have to. Fuck your wet cunt. Your pretty wet fuckable cunt. Don't you just ache to cum, you little fuckgirl? Don't you just ache to be fucked?" Then Madeline felt Gloria's thumb on her clit as two fingers plunged deep into her wet silky pussy, parting her roughly. Suddenly Gloria lowered her mouth and clamped it onto Madeline's mound. Madeline felt the other girl's strong tongue sliding up her slit, in unison with two fingers fucking her cunt, then felt the clit sucked into the athletic girl's mouth, her tongue pressing it hard, relentlessly, completely devoid of finesse, completely full of intensity and purpose. There was no manipulation, no teasing, no torment. 

In less than a minute, her orgasm started, she writhed and bucked, feeling Gloria push the explosion out of her with her fingers, then suck it out of her with her mouth and tongue. She twisted on the bed, moaning as quietly as she could, her legs taut, then jerking, her head thrashing from side to side.

"Please stop. Gloria please please stop I can't stand any more please stop oh god oh god oh fuck I can't stand it I'm cumming again oh fuck oh shit you bitch you fucking bitch oh fuckkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!"

Gloria kept fucking her and licking her, swatting Madeline's hands away as the smaller girl tried to push her off. Then she unbent, kneeling above the smaller girl, her face flushed, her mouth and cheeks glistening with juices from Madeline's pussy. Her pony tail was still bobbing behind her head. Power smiled in her face. "I'm not finished with you yet. Don't move!"

Gloria leaned back on her ass and pulled the spandex tights from her thighs, and unzipped her pleated skirt. In less than a second, she was straddling Madeline's shoulders, her pussy inches from the smaller girl's mouth. She looked down and smiled briefly before she ripped her t-shirt off, then her sports bra, then began pinching her left nipple with the fingers of her left hand. With her right, she sunk her fingers into Madeline's dark red hair and firmly pulled the smaller girl's mouth to her own pussy. 


"Come on now, baby. Lick my cunt. I NEED to cum. Come on, Maddy, use that pretty tongue of yours."

The athletic girl's scent filled Madeline's nostrils completely. The scent of her wet cunt, the scent of her perspiration on her thighs, the suddenly released heat of her crotch from under the spandex tights. It was like being in a greenhouse of exotic plants, kept at jungle temperature and humidity. Feverishly she pushed her tongue between Gloria's labia, feeling her room-mate's juices filling her mouth. Her clit was a hard, thick nub, Madeline's tongue pressing against it, lifting it, circling it vigorously. Gloria was holding the back of Madeline's head and rubbing her cunt up and down over Madeline's mouth, fucking the smaller girl's mouth with her pussy. Madeline's arms were still helpless, pinned under Gloria's bent legs. Every few seconds the cunt pressed harder, on the pubic bone, and Madeline felt a sharp shock of pain, and whimpered, her cry muffled by the hot wet labia around her mouth. Looking up with wide, wild eyes she saw the intensity of Gloria's eyes sealed shut, then looking back down as she fucked her cunt up and down Madeline's mouth. Then Madeline felt Gloria humping faster, her mouth pressed harder against the athletic girl's pussy, until in one final lunge she felt her face clamped between the strong girl's thighs, several hard thrusts jerking her whole head and neck back, and hoarse screams from Gloria's mouth as she tried to restrain the volume of her cries. 

Madeline let her head fall back as Gloria leaned forward, her hands on either side of Madeline's head. The strong girl was trying to catch her breath, as was Madeline. Madeline's mouth and chin and nose were red with the pressure of being fucked, soaked with Gloria's juices. Finally Gloria looked down at Madeline and smiled, her breath coming more evenly now. She placed her fingers on Madeline's cheek and rubbed them gently, before lifting her leg off Madeline's shoulder and sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. She turned her fingers over and brushed Madeline's cheek with the back of her hand, then leaned down and kissed her on the lips, hard but not long, then leaned back up.


How Beautiful Are The Feet



"You okay, Maddy? All right, baby?"

Madeline nodded. "God yes. I'm more than okay."

"I just couldn't stop myself. I just had to fuck you. You looked too fucking cute."

Madeline blushed very slightly, not used to any sort of flattery from Gloria. "Do you always just see someone you want to fuck and just take her like that?"

Gloria thought for a minute, pondering the question. "Not always. Only when I just know it. Sometimes you just know it, you know?"

It was Madeline's turn to think. "Hmmmm. I guess so. I've never done that."

Five minutes later Gloria was in the shower, and Madeline was looking at her music again. The world resumed its course. 

***

A week went by, and they didn't even talk about the incident, the fucking. Madeline relived it in her mind, but she always fantasized a lot, and masturbated a lot. Plus, they both went out with boys; during the week boys were scarce on campus. Young men were allowed, of course, but it's just that most of the young women got on with life. Some had boyfriends, and there were always boys skulking around, but life was busy. Gloria had field hockey every day, and Madeline had her music. Hours of practice, scales and exercises, plus the flute. Everyone was expected to have an instrument as well as a voice, and Madeline had chosen the flute. It was a chore, but one she didn't mind too much. 

The next time Madeline painted her nails, and Gloria came in, the taller girl got out her video camera. "I've got to get this on film. You are a real expert. It is so fucking sexy." 

Maddy let Gloria tape till she was finished. Then she packed up to go and do her voice exercises. 

"Show me where you have to go and practice," Gloria said.

Madeline looked at her like she was from Mars. Voice exercises were like piano scales. A torture you had to survive, like sprints at field hockey practice Gloria had told her about. And the practice rooms were ridiculous. 

"Are you nuts?" Madeline said. 

Gloria looked at her. "No. I just want to see. I want to hear what you sound like. You sing in the chorus too, don't you?"

Madeline nodded. "All right, come on."

When they got there, Gloria was clearly surprised. "This is it? What's with the walls?" She plunked out a note on the piano. 

"The walls, that's so the sound doesn't echo, carpet on the walls to kill it." Gloria ran her fingers over the nubbly carpet on the walls.

After she had sung a few exercises and scales, Gloria decided she wanted to sing the same scales. Madeline could hardly believe her ears. Gloria had a very good voice, clear and loud, just not terribly rich. She realized Gloria had been wanting to impress her. 

"You never told me you could sing."

"Oh I used to sing a lot. Church choir. Is the chorus here volunteer, or do you have to be in the Music programme?"

Madeline shook her head. "No, anyone can join. You have to audition." She watched to see if that would put Gloria off. 

"All right. I'm going to join. I don't have to sing a solo, do I?"

"No, only the girls in the programme have to have solos." Madeline didn't say she might not make it; it wasn't automatic. 

"So when's your next rehearsal?"

"Next Tuesday night."

"All right." It was now Thursday. "You can help me practice a bit."

"Okay" Madeline smiled her bewitching half-smile. She was honestly amazed at her talented, intense friend, who seemed to do everything in her life this way: straight ahead, unblinking, intense. She really felt nothing was beyond her. 

Except, perhaps, painting her toenails. 

They were in their room, both of them with reading that had to get done. Gloria slammed her book shut. She got up, and asked Madeline if she could try some of her nail polish. Actually, "ask" is the wrong word. Gloria walked over and picked up a bottle of dark red nail polish and said "Mind if I try some?" She held it out for a second, hardly making eye contact with Madeline, walking across the room in sweatshirt and panties, her long muscular legs rippling, her bare feet thudding softly on the wood floor. 

"Sure, go ahead." Madeline said, hardly paying attention. She didn't remember ever seeing Gloria with nail polish on. Once in a while Gloria did wear lipstick, a dusky red that made her lips look a little darker. And occasionally she would use a curling iron on her longish dark brown hair. She watched her room-mate out of the corner of her eye. Madeline had been painting her nails a couple of times a week for years. She never thought about it. She had always liked a little decoration. She had some exotic clothes. She dressed stylishly, and she had an outstanding collection of shoes. 

"Fuck!" 

Madeline looked up. Gloria was leaning forward, her knees bent, one hand holding the applicator brush, the other hand holding the bottle of nail polish. "Fuck!" she said again. 

Madeline slowly placed her wooden ruler in the middle of her book and swung her legs off her bed. She walked over to Gloria. She shook her head. "I bet the last time you painted your toenails was when your Oma did it."

Gloria looked up, flushed with frustration. "Fuck it." She screwed the top back on and handed the bottle back to Madeline. Madeline put her book down and smirked at the mess Gloria had made of her toenails. Polish was smudged outside her nails on almost every toe, and rubbed into her skin where Gloria had obviously tried to correct her mistakes. 

Madeline knew exactly what to say. "Giving up, are you?"

Gloria's eyes locked onto Madeline's for a brief, intense second. Madeline possessed her own intensity, deep and ironic. 

"Let me show you," she said. "You'll pick it up fast enough, just like everything else you do." She looked down at Gloria sitting there, thrusting her lower lip out. "Or do you not want to bother?"

Madeline knew she had the hook into Gloria. She just wondered how deep. 

"Hmmm. Okay. Just be careful. I'm ticklish as hell. I'm likely to kill you if I kick you." 

Madeline raised her eyebrows, nodded and went back to her dresser. 

"All right, just lay your legs flat. Let me take this mess off first." She pulled a cotton ball from its bag, wetted it with nail polish remover and grabbed Gloria's left foot, rubbing her big toe firmly. Right away Gloria's foot jerked. 

"Shit!" Madeline said. She looked down at Gloria, trying to figure how to do this. "All right. You're going to break my jaw. Move down, stick your feet between the bars." Their beds were old, with bars at the head and foot. She waited while Gloria moved herself down and slid her feet between the bars at the foot of the bed. "No, spread them further apart, just so I don't get them both at once, just in case." Gloria moved her right foot out, and placed it between a different set of bars, so that her feet were now about two feet apart. 

Madeline was very methodical. She reached down and picked up one of Gloria's field hockey sticks, and laid it across the athletic girl's ankles. Gloria stared back down, half quizzical, half intent, not quite sure what was going on, but not wanting to confess to any fear. "Hold onto the bars above your head, if you feel the need to kick, Glo. Sort of transfer the energy." She had begun calling her Glo almost as soon as Gloria started calling her Maddy. "I don't want a cut lip." Gloria reached up and grabbed the bars above her head. She adjusted her pillows so she could see exactly what Madeline was doing. 

"What's with the field hockey stick?" Gloria said. 

"Oh just consider it an early warning system. Try to keep your feet still. I'm going to lean on the stick just to keep your feet down. Now, are you holding on?"

She started to remove more nail polish. Gloria twitched. Then she jerked, flopping the hockey stick to the ground. Madeline stood up and shook her head. "Come on, Gloria! Keep still for fuck sake!" 

"Sorry! Geeze! Fuck I can't help it."

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea. You've managed fine without painted nails so far." Maddy thought she would set the hook a little deeper.

"Go ahead. Try again. I can do this."

"All right. Let me do just one more thing. Safety first." Madeline picked up the field hockey stick and laid it back across Gloria's shins. She reached down into Gloria's bag and pulled out the skipping rope Gloria used to train. She looked up at the taller girl's hard body laid out, her hands gripping the bars at the head of the bed, her muscles completely tense. Madeline shook her head. "You really do need to get a grip. Look at your toes!" Then like a military nurse she moved to the head of the bed, quickly wrapped the skipping rope tightly around Gloria's wrists and the bars at the head of the bed. Gloria looked at her skeptically. 

"What do you think you're doing?" But she stayed in position, the field hockey stick still balanced across her ankles where they stuck through the bars at the end of the bed. 

"Do you want your nails done or not? You are such a wuss. Such a wimp. Honestly."

Madeline moved, still the sergeant major, the clinical nurse, the Nurse Rachet, to the foot of the bed. She looked around the room quickly, then went to her dresser and pulled out a pair of pantyhose. Without hesitation she tied Gloria's ankles to the field hockey stick, and the stick to the bars at the foot of the bed. 

"What the fuck-?" Gloria said.

"Now you'll have to keep still."

Carefully, methodically, Madeline removed the flawed polish from Gloria's toes. The taller athletic girl jerked violently, but she was tightly held in place. Madeline looked up and smiled. "See?" she said. Gloria from time to time thrashed her head back and forth, or pursed her lips strongly, but basically endured the torment. Then began the more delicate process of applying the paint. Slowly, carefully, Madeline did each of Gloria's toes. "Are you watching?" she demanded, looking up like some drill sergeant. "Next time you've got to do this yourself."

"Oh fuck the next time. I don't think I can stand it!"

"Hmmm," Madeline said, casually, as if she didn't care. "Just not your thing, huh? Not one of those life skills you need, huh? That's okay. It's not for everyone. You can probably sail through life just fine without the ability to paint your toenails."

She knew exactly how to press Gloria's buttons. 

"Fuck that," Gloria said. "Finish it. You'll see. You're not fucking Picasso. It's not so hard."

Madeline just pursed her lips and nodded, finishing the job. "There, now doesn't that look pretty?" A row of little red toes, lined up like Monopoly houses. With a flourish Madeline put the cap back on the nail polish and smiled. She picked up her book and took the ruler out that marked her page, took it back to her bed and started to read. 

"Hey!" Gloria said.

Madeline slowly moved her head and looked over. Wordlessly, she got up and went over to stand above her room-mate, whom she had left still strung out between the two ends of the bed. "Just let it dry, Glo. Don't be so impatient." Then she turned and lifted the ruler, and smacked the top of Gloria's bare thigh hard. Much harder than was necessary for a playful tap. Gloria's leg jerked in surprise, stung. 

"Hey, you bitch! What was that for?"

Madeline looked at her, lifted the ruler and smacked her thigh again. "Bitch, am I?"

Again, Gloria jerked and tried to twist away, protecting her thigh. "You fucking bitch. You just wait!"

"Oh really?" Madeline said. She lifted the ruler again and brought it down right on Gloria's mound, tightly encased in her functional cotton panties. 

"Fuck!" Gloria whispered hoarsely. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Madeline said nothing, but with a slight smirk, kept up a constant, firm tapping on Gloria's mound as she watched the other girl twitch and writhe. "Be quiet. Don't be such a whiner. I thought you were a tough girl." Madeline was a witch, she knew. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Under her breath, Gloria said, "you just wait, you fucking fucking bitch. You just fucking wait." But she kept her body stiller now, not wanting to show Madeline how the smacks with the ruler stung. 

Madeline suddenly stopped. She looked up and down Gloria's body. Under her t-shirt, Gloria's nipples were standing up like little gumdrops. "Your nipples are hard, you nasty girl." Then she brought the end of the ruler down on Gloria's right nipple through her t-shirt, then the left nipple, then the right, and so on. She didn't stop once but kept it up continually as Gloria jerked and writhed and twisted to get away. When Madeline finally stopped, she folded her arms and looked down at her room-mate, her face completely flushed, breathing hard, spewing fire practically. "Hmmmmm," she said. "I thought you would have been able to endure more than that." 

Gloria said nothing, just gritted her teeth. "Fuck you, you little bitch. I am going to get you. Get you so bad."

"Oh really?" Madeline then reached out with her fingers and pinched Gloria's nipple through her t-shirt, pulled and twisted, staring straight into Gloria's eyes as Gloria lay as still as she could, trying not to register any reaction. Madeline nodded. She moved her fingers to the other nipple. Pinched. Twisted. Tugged. The only sound was a muffled grunt from Gloria's throat. "That's better," Madeline said. She took the ruler, and trailed it down Gloria's stomach, down to the elastic of her panties, then down over her mound to where her room-mate's puffy pussy lips were clearly evident now in her tight panties. She slid the ruler down Gloria's cleft, then back up, several times. Gloria still said nothing, just whimpered. Then Madeline began a slow, steady tapping, right over the top of Gloria's slit, right where Gloria's clit was. Gloria's face was very flushed now. Madeline stopped tapping and just pushed the ruler against Gloria's pussy lips now. Pushing into the soft flesh, swollen now. "Your cunt is swollen, Gloria. It's wet. You're such a slut." 

"Fuck you, Maddy. You are going to pay for this so bad!!" 

Madeline said nothing, but went quickly back to her dresser and got a pair of nail scissors. She cut away Gloria's panties, revealing the athletic girl's trimmed mound, her swollen pussy lips, a glistening line of wetness evident right down the middle of the nest of hair. She leaned over, inhaled, then blew on the other girl's wet pussy. Gloria writhed. She moaned. "Fuuuuuccccccccccckkkkkkk," she whispered, almost to herself this time. Madeline lifted her room-mate's t-shirt, looked at her hard nipples, then lowered her mouth and took Gloria's right nipple in her teeth, closed it firmly and tugged. She bit it till Gloria cried out. She flicked it with her tongue as she pulled it. Then the other nipple. Gloria was now whimpering. Thrashing her head. Looking down at what Madeline was doing, helpless and whimpering. 

When Madeline moved her head away, she let the nipple slip from her mouth with a plop, and patted her own palm with the ruler. She tapped both Gloria's nipples with the ruler, gently but firmly, not as hard as before. Gradually she increased the force, looking at Gloria's face as she did so. The bound girl just looked back up, intense, enduring. Her hips were writhing now, lifting and shifting with each smack. 

"You want it harder, don't you, Glo?"

Gloria's eyes widened and she said nothing, just breathed very hard. "Fuck you Maddy. You're going to pay." 

"You want it harder, don't you Glo?" 

Then Gloria nodded. She hissed. "Yessssssss. Do it." Almost a whisper. Hard and intent. 

Madeline did smack harder. Until Gloria's breasts were red with the smacking. 

Then she stopped. Gloria's face was completely flushed, her chest rising and falling, almost heaving. Slowly Madeline bent over, looking at the reddish skin around Gloria's nipple, the hard point reddened also, and standing up hard and firm. She stuck her tongue out delicately and flicked the nipple with the tip, then circled it, the slowly, softly sucked the nipple in her mouth, rolling her tongue around and around it.

"Oh fuccckkkkkkkkkk! Fuckkkkkkkkkkk!" Gloria hissed the words out and writhed, humping the air with her hips as the smaller softer girl licked and toyed with her nipple. "Come on, Maddy, come on! I need to cum. Make me cum. I can't stand it! Come on! Fuck meeeeeeeee!"

Madeline just raised her eyebrows and moved her mouth to the other nipple, whereupon Gloria's response intensified. 

But Madeline was far from finished. She proceeded now with scientific attention to the rest of Gloria's nerve endings. People were always underestimating Madeline, her still waters ran very deep. Slowly, bit by bit, she reduced Gloria to a complete zombie, a trembling slab of flesh. She spread Gloria's cuntlips apart with her fingers, toyed with her clit with the tip of her tongue. She slid her fingers inside Gloria's cunt. Two fingers, then three, then four, just slowly, slowly pushing, kneading, feeling inside. Then slipping a finger into her soaking ass, her athletic room-mate's body jerking and spasming. 

"Oh fuck Maddy please! Plllllllleeeeeeeeeeeassse! Fuck me. Make me cum. Make me make me make fuck me fuck me make me cummmmmmmmmmm!!"

But Madeline didn't alter her rhythm at all. She toyed with Gloria like she was experimenting with some laboratory animal. 

"Fuck I'm going to get you. I'm going to get you bad. Fuck you so bad. You just wait you little bitch. You fucking bitch!!!!!!" She breathed harder, sweat dripping from her temples. "Plllleeease Maddy pleeaaaaase... please... fuck I'll do anything. Pleasssse!"

Gloria alternated between curses and pleas, humiliating herself, begging, needing to cum. Madeline toyed with her. Smacked her with the ruler, then used her silky tongue on Gloria's labia, sucking softly, gently on her clit then letting it go. Then smacking her breasts. Then smacking her mound, right over Gloria's aching, swollen clit. 

Then she stopped. Gloria had gotten quiet. Her body kept heaving and writhing. Madeline looked at Gloria's face. Tears were streaming from Gloria's eyes. Eyes closed. Biting her lip. Sobbing quietly for a few seconds. Then growling. Madeline smiled. She seemed content now. She slipped two fingers inside her athletic room-mate's cunt, and started a slow massage deep inside the velvety canal, and placed her small thumb at the base of Gloria's clit. Her blue thumbnail was a dark contrast to the swollen purple-pink of Gloria's glistening pussy. Madeline pressed and circled her clit steadily now, massaging inside with her fingertips. The sheet under Gloria's pussy was soaked, a wide circle of pussy juice, the air like a sauna. Slowly, slowly she saw Gloria lifting higher and higher, her mound shifting up and down as Madeline circled the swollen bud of her clit. All Gloria's muscles tensed. Madeline gripped her tighter with her fingers in the other girl's cunt and with her thumb on her clit. 

The larger girl's muscles all bunched up: her calves, her strong thighs, her incredible stomach, all the bulges and little pouches of muscle. Then it happened. Gloria shattered. She bucked wildly. The bed moved. Madeline didn't stop, and neither did Gloria: Gloria's hips lifted and bucked, then did it again, then again. The only sound was the sound of Gloria's strange, strangled hoarse breath as Madeline drove her and kept driving her. Gloria's head thrashed from side to side, her eyes screwed shut. 

Finally, Madeline did stop. She removed her fingers, almost aching, from Gloria's cunt. Even thirty seconds after the fingers were removed, Gloria was still spasming, saying nothing. Madeline knew she had gone way too far, but that didn't matter. She had enjoyed it thoroughly. She slipped her fingers into her own slit, flicking her clit beside Gloria's bed as the athletic girl watched, and came hard, leaning on the bed. Once she was finished, she smiled at Gloria, who lay there still speechless, her eyes wide and zombie-like, tears wetting her pillow, glistening on her cheeks and temple. Then Madeline undid Gloria's wrists and ankles, leaving her there, completely spent. She returned to her own bed, opening her book and resumed reading. 




How Beautiful Are The Feet



Gloria finally got her breath back. "I'm going to get you, you fucking bitch. I've never cum like that in my life. You fucking bitch. You little witch. You just wait." Ten minutes later, she was asleep. Madeline put her book away and studied a collection of lieder for another hour, then had a shower, then went to bed. Gloria hadn't moved. 

***

The first rehearsal that Gloria went to, Prof Barter raised her eyebrows slightly and simply nodded. "All right, we could use an alto. You can have your audition afterward. You sight read?"

Gloria lied. "Sure. No problem." She was not a good sight-reader, and mainly faked the difficult sections by listening really hard to the girls around her. But she learned very fast. Her audition afterward went fine. Madeline knew it as soon as she had finished singing her little section of "The Shepherd on the Rock". 

"She's quite the bitch, isn't she?" Gloria said as they walked back to the dorm. 

"What do you mean?" Madeline didn't think of Prof Barter as a bitch or an angel: she was simply her music prof. Almost devoid of personality. 

"I mean those shoes! And that blouse and skirt. Like something from the forties, one of those movies. So proper. I bet she's a fireball underneath."

"Barter? A fireball?" Madeline shook her head. She thought Prof Barter was completely sexless. She kept her hair up all the time, in those old-fashioned hair clips. She probably brushed it out at night, counting out the strokes, then did it back up again. She made no effort to improve herself, to "decorate" as Madeline called it when she painted her nails or applied lipstick or dangled exotic earrings from her earlobes. "I bet Barter's cunt hasn't been out of the deep freeze in years."

"No. You're wrong. I'll prove it to you."

Madeline should have known. This was Gloria's gift. Like second sight. She knew things. She was a scalpel, cutting right through to the heart of things. 

At first Madeline didn't quite understand. 

The next time they went to chorus, Gloria pulled out a pair of Madeline's shoes. They were thick-heeled, open-toed mules with a thick piece of leather over the top the arch. She would wear them when she went out on dates. Through the open toes, Madeline's toes stuck through in a tidy row, her toenails a row of bright silver-violet bullets. At the top of the band of black leather, small silver half moons adorned the band of leather. They were hot. "Here," Gloria said. "Wear these. You know, fuck-me shoes. You just watch Barter's reaction. I'll prove it to you. She's a fucking volcano."

Madeline had to sing her solo at tonight's practice. 

When the time came, she came forward and stood in front of the rest of the chorus. She held her score out in front of her then lifted her eyes to Prof Barter. Barter's eyes were focused right there. Right on her shoes. Madeline was quick. She wiggled her toes, smirking inside. She had no qualms about being wicked. Barter paused a little longer. Then everything went back to normal. Probably no one else noticed. 

"See?" Gloria said afterward. 

"So she noticed my shoes. Doesn't mean anything." 

Gloria looked at her and shook her head. "All right, we'll see next time. Okay?" 

Madeline liked this game. Regardless where it went. "Sure." 

Gloria lifted her hand quickly and ran it through Maddy's thick dark red hair. "You were so fucking sexy, wiggling your toes like that."

That night, Madeline was in a deep sleep, in the middle of a strange dream. Her body was pressed under a weight like a heavy beam. Then she realized it wasn't a dream. Something was on top of her. She was scared for about two seconds, then she realized it was Gloria. She uttered a muffled, low grunt. "Fuck!" she whispered, disoriented. "What are you doing! I can't breathe!" 

Then she felt Gloria's hot sweet breath on her face, hissing back at her in the dark. "It's payback time, you sweet bitch." Then she felt Gloria's hot mouth on hers, kissing her hard, her tongue snaking inside her lips, Madeline unable to respond because of her awkward position, her face forced into her pillow. "I think you are just awesome, you little bitch. And now it's payback time."

Madeline breathed in, tasting Gloria's mouth, her salty skin. Gloria turned on the bedside lamp, and out of the corner of her eye Madeline could see Gloria in the mirror. She was straddling Madeline's back, and had one of her hockey sticks across the back of Madeline's thighs. In her hand was the roll of tape she used to tape her ankles. She tugged the sheets off the smaller girl. Roughly, she pulled one of Madeline's wrists down to her thigh, and taped it to the hockey stick behind her back. Then the other wrist. Next, Madeline felt Gloria's strong hand around her ankle, bending her leg back, which she then taped by the ankle to the same hockey stick. Then the other ankle. Now, Madeline was completely helpless, her arms taped back to the hockey stick, and her ankles taped up, so her body was bowed. Gloria got up and smiled, her hands on her hips.

"Now then, my little witch... you are completely mine." Gloria, so strong, took Madeline by the shoulders, lifted her back and simply flipped her on her back, so that now her body was arched back, her tummy and mound thrust up, her breasts jutting out. 

Gloria's approach was completely direct. She placed her hand on Madeline's breast and squeezed it, pinching the nipple. Madeline made no effort to resist, just let the responses surge through her. She felt the strong girl's fingers pinching her nipple, first one, and then the other. The electric current went right to her clit. Then Gloria dragged her fingers down her taut, arched body, to Madeline's mound. Unlike Gloria, Madeline kept her mound neatly shaved, just a small v of red hair over shaved lips, perfectly smooth. Gloria dragged her nails over her mound, then squeezed Madeline's cuntlips right over her clit, and twisted. Madeline was already dripping wet. 

"Ooooh, look at this pretty little cunt. Do you want me to fuck you, my lovely little helpless fucktoy?" Gloria slid a finger along Madeline's slit, dipping it into her vagina, where it sunk in easily. Then she slid it out, lifted her hand and smacked Madeline's mound, her fingers slapping against her swollen labia. Madeline barely jerked; she liked a little pain, and felt no need to resist. Gloria was enjoying it, turning Madeline this way and that, her body fixed to the hockey stick, a doll. She bit the smaller girls' nipples, sucked them, listened to Madeline moan hoarsely, quietly, sunk her fingers into Madeline's cunt... one finger, two fingers... pumping into her.. fucking her. 

Before long she was on the edge. "Come on, Gloria... come on honey... let me cum... god please..."

Gloria smiled and dug three fingers deep into Madeline's cunt, starting to fuck her hard. Madeline pushed against the fingers. But needed the feel of something on her clit, a mouth, some fingers. She thrashed. "Come on Glo, please. Please suck my clit!" Then she felt Gloria's mouth on her clit, flicking and sucking it hard. 

She came hard. She bucked against the athletic girl's mouth, cumming deep and shatteringly. Gloria didn't stop sucking. Madeline came again. Then Gloria stopped. She smiled, looking at Madeline's face, caressing her cheek. She leaned over and kissed the smaller girl on the lips. "You're beautiful, baby." 

She took the tape off, let the hockey stick drop to the floor, and crawled onto bed with the smaller girl, Madeline's body still shuddering, almost overwhelmed. Madeline didn't know what to think. She felt so close to Gloria. She wasn't prepared for it. She slept. In the morning, Gloria was back in her own bed, sleeping deeply. 

***

"Okay. these tonight. You do your solo again? These should be perfect. They'll look great under your jeans."

Madeline smirked at her, her head angled. She was enjoying this game. The shoes were strappy ones, with rhinestones, dressy, hardly the thing for the beginning of November in Boston. She slipped them on, and struck a pose, her line of pretty bright pink toenails looking like bubble gum at the end of her feet. 

It was almost the same routine. Except that Madeline exaggerated the effect by striking a bit of a pose, her one foot extended, showing off the shoes and her pale feet. Once again, Prof Barter paused, a pause understood only by Gloria and Madeline, looking at Madeline's shoes and feet. In the middle of the piece, Barter stopped conducting and just watched, smiling. Once or twice her eyes drifted down Madeline's bluejean-encased legs, then her feet, before she caught herself and looked back at the score. 

Madeline didn't know what made her think of it, but what she did next was inspired. At the end of the rehearsal, she went up to Prof Barter as the older woman was putting away her music. "I think I need some extra work. I would really like this piece to be excellent."

"But it's already excellent, Madeline." Prof Barter's glance drifted up for a second to Gloria behind Madeline, then drifted back to the music she was stuffing inside her leather satchel. Her posture was indeed stiff and formal, her neck curving down from her clipped hair, a white blouse with embroidery at the collar, and a tight wool skirt that stopped just above her knees. Royal blue pumps and translucent white hose. 

Madeline didn't persist much; just enough to leave the impression that she thought Prof Barter was really not trying for high enough standards. "Well, if you think it's good enough, I suppose it is. There were just a few bits and pieces I wanted to work on." Madeline reached down and tugged on the strap of her shoe as if it had fallen; she placed her foot down and made a show of pressing her foot into the shoe, wiggling her toes. She looked up quickly, seeing Prof Barter looking down at her shoes, lips parted. 

Prof Barter tucked a wisp of brown hair behind her ear. Was she perhaps caught a little off-guard? "You really think so? All right then. You know where I live, just off campus? I think we did some practicing there one time. Why not come over there on Saturday afternoon."

Madeline smiled seriously and nodded. "That would be just fine. Perfect actually."

Madeline and Gloria walked home in the dark November night. "Good move," Gloria said. "I'll come with you."

Madeline looked up at her taller friend, eyes trying to pierce the darkness. "You have a plan don't you?"

Gloria looked ahead, chewed on her lip a bit. "You bet."

"I thought so. You were right about Barter. I can see it. She is seething, and she's afraid. I never would have guessed. How did you know? You even knew about me, didn't you?"

Gloria slipped her hand from her pocket and smacked Madeline on the ass. "You were different. You are awesome, Maddy. Even the first time we met, and I saw you looking at me the way you did. Plus you always looked so fucking sexy painting your toes, concentrating like a little kid. But Barter? Well Barter... I just knew. That's all."

Saturday came. 

"Perfect," Gloria said. She had chosen Madeline's outfit. No bra, a heavy stretch top, dark purple, that stopped a few inches above her navel. Through it, her nipples showed, but it was thicker than most, with sleeves, which meant she wouldn't freeze if Barter's house wasn't warm. White opaque tights, that ended at the bottom of her calf. A black skirt with a wide belt and a big buckle in front, low slung. Her navel, with its silver ring, glinted. 

"And now the important part. These!" The shoes. Black open-toed mules, with a leather strap that went around her ankle. 

Gloria walked up to her friend, breathing in through her teeth. She extended her fingers, and flicked Madeline's nipples. The smaller girl just shivered slightly, her nipples visibly hardening. "Just a little hint that maybe there's a slut underneath. Perfect. Let's go."

Prof Barter wasn't expecting Gloria, too. The surprise on her face was visible. She led the two young women into a large, traditional house, one of those in the neighbourhood of large lawns near the university. The living room was large as the lawn: bay windows, and old formal furniture. "The music room is upstairs. I'll just get an extra cup for tea." That was her only comment that indicated she had not been expecting Gloria. 

Upstairs, the music room was the duplicate of the living room: large, bay windows, with a view of the leafy neighbourhood, the nearest house through the trees within shouting distance only if you were outside. In the middle was a grand piano. The one difference was that the edges of this room were untidy. Music along the shelves, magazines, a computer. In one corner stood the exercise machine that the professor used to keep herself trim.

"Well, Prof Barter, thanks for taking the time this afternoon," Madeline said, taking off her coat. Gloria saw the moment coming and just watched, her hand resting on the strap of her leather shoulder bag. Prof Barter, held the teapot, ready to pour it, but stopped, looking at Madeline's outfit, not commenting. Madeline's nipples were hard. Obvious. She could feel Barter's eyes on them, which only made them harder. She could feel Gloria watching Barter, Gloria who knew things. 

Prof Barter poured the tea. "Please, you're a junior, now, Madeline. And Gloria you're a senior. My name's Petra. Please call me Petra."

"Petra. What a pretty name," said Madeline. 

Petra smiled warmly. "Thank you." She sat on the piano bench. 

Gloria was putting her bag on top of some music spread out on top of the piano. "It's okay there?" Petra nodded. Gloria pushed it a bit, then adjusted it neatly in place. Then she came and stood behind the music teacher. "I can turn the pages. Make myself useful."

Barter smiled and chuckled. "That's hardly necessary, Gloria. The piece just covers two pages."

But Gloria simply sat down on the piano bench, her hands folded over her bluejeans. She was wearing a burgundy sweatshirt. "That's okay. I'll just sit here."

Prof Barter looked at Madeline, almost ignoring Gloria. "All right, Madeline, tell me what Handel had in mind with this aria." 

Madeline told her. "It's a little oasis of calm. All the pieces around it are angry or loud or furious. This is calm. Almost delicate. You know. 'How beautiful are the feet of those that preach the gospel of peace.' A single delicate voice. A quiet controlled voice." She stood there at the end of the piano, her purple nails scratching silently, her toes wiggling in her shoes, drawing Petra Barter's eyes. Gloria leaned forward and pressed the score in its thick binding flat. Prof Barter's eyes were drawn back to the music, then to Madeline's face. 

"Yes, that's the mood. But technically, what?" 

"Ahhhh," said Madeline, pointing with her fingers to the notation above the music. Her purple nail was like a jujube on the paper. Her faint perfume filled the nostrils of both Gloria and Petra Barter as she leaned forward, her breast inches from their faces. "Larghetto, see? And of course, it is piano, like the rest of the oratorio. But this has to be clear as a bell. Flowing, legato, dancing..." Gloria could hardly believe her eyes as Madeline performed a quick mock-pirouette in front of them. "Like that, dancing." She pointed to her feet. "How beautiful are the feet, right?" She giggled. Then took her stance, hands folded in front of her, just below her glinting navel ring. 

She sang beautifully. They practiced for about thirty minutes hard, going through it line by line. Petra Barter commented, picked out the weaknesses. She had high standards. Gloria got bored listening and following the music. She got up and lifted her bag off the piano. She went to Barter's desk, flipped through a magazine, looking up at the screen saver on the computer going through a series of pictures of famous composers. Then she spent a long time fiddling inside her bag on top of Barter's desk. She was like an impatient child trying to be good. 

"Okay, let's have a break. Just let your voice rest." Prof Barter was wearing another of her white blouses, and knee length skirts. Navy pumps. Prim looking. Her hair was done up in a leather clasp with a long silver pin. Very artistic. The leather of the clasp was tooled. She took the cozy off the teapot and poured them each a cup. Idle chit chat ensued. She had grown up here, she said, although at that time it had really been outside Boston, it seemed. 

"Come on, Petra," Gloria said. "You can't be more than ten years older than we are. You make it sound like you're our mother or something." 

Petra blushed a little. "Well, I'm 35. A little more than ten years older than you two, I bet. Let's get back at it."

Petra sat down. Gloria moved behind her and rested her hands on Petra's shoulders. Madeline could see Petra stop, wondering what Gloria was doing with her hands on Petra's shoulders. A little invasion of space. She just twitched her head a little. Gloria smirked very slightly over at Madeline, who looked on, expressionless. An accomplice. Gloria removed her hands from Petra's shoulders and placed her fingers on the hair clip, slowly pulling the pin out of it. She let Petra's hair fall down. "Wow." Petra Barter's hair fell half way down her back. 

Petra turned sharply, her brown eyes wide, annoyed. "What are you doing?"

Gloria just looked at her, smiling. "Relax. I just wanted to see what it was like. You always have it up."

Petra looked at her, then at Madeline, off balance, then reached up. "Well give me the clip back; I don't like it down when I work."

As soon as Gloria saw the older woman put her well-manicured hand out she smiled, and slowly, carefully, took the teacher's small hand and placed it on the keyboard, turning the professor around. Petra let her hands be moved, not quite believing it, clearly trying to understand what was going on. After a second of leaving her hands on the piano, she turned again, only this time Gloria was ahead of her. 

The athletic girl had closed her fist around the professor's beautiful long hair, so that when Petra tried to turn her head, she couldn't, Gloria was gripping it. She let out a slight scream, involuntary, a scream of shock. "What are you doing? Gloria!" Prof Barter looked at her student with incomprehension and confusion in her eyes. Not fright, not yet. "Madeline! Tell her to stop this."

Madeline just watched, her eyes cool, her fingers on the edge of the piano. Her face registered nothing. Gloria was marvellous. Slowly, the athletic girl was pulling Petra Barter's head back, her neck bending, the muscles of her throat straining. 

"What... what are you doing?" Petra Barter said. 

Gloria said nothing, just gave the long hair in her fist, and Petra's head, a shake. Petra reached back quickly, grabbing Gloria's forearm that was holding the hair, but Gloria was much too strong for her. Madeline saw her teacher's soft pink nails dig into Gloria's forearm. Slowly, Petra lowered her hands, placed them on the edge of the stool. "What do you want? What is this. I'll have you expelled! Both of you!"

Gloria yanked her head back sharply, held her there for a few seconds, then yanked it back forward, to a natural posture. One of Petra's shoes fell off. "Don't threaten me," Gloria hissed. "You're just going to answer some questions, do what you're told. Look at Madeline." She turned Prof Barter's face toward Madeline, who stood there, unmoved and unmoving. "Tell me what you like best about her."

Petra snorted. "What do you mean? I don't do that kind of unprofessional -" but she didn't get the chance to finish her sentence before Gloria lifted her free hand and slapped her cheek. Not hard, but firm. The shock in Petra's face was sudden and complete. That was the moment when she became frightened. Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to bat them back. Her upper lip quivered. "Please..." she whimpered. "Please... stop this. Why are you doing this?" She lifted her hand to the cheek Gloria had slapped, and rubbed it. 




How Beautiful Are The Feet



Gloria took the hand away quickly. "If you want to move, you have to ask. Now answer my question. What do you like best about Madeline? Take a good look. All of her. Make sure it's the right answer." And here she leaned over and whispered hoarsely in Petra Barter's ear. "Because I know, Petra. I know. And if you aren't honest, you'll pay."

And once again she turned Gloria's face toward Madeline, who stood there, patient. 

Petra Barter looked up, scared, trying to guess what she was supposed to say. She looked quickly over Madeline's body, hoping it was going to end as soon as she got the right answer. "Her eyes," she said. "Madeline has very pretty eyes." 

Slap! Gloria's palm cracked across Petra's face. Madeline looked on, not registering anything, waiting like a mannequin. "Try again."

Petra's voice was trembling as she looked up and down Madeline, trying to find the right words. Her eyes stopped at Madeline's flat tummy, a few inches of it exposed, the navel ring glinting. "Her stomach. She has a lovely flat tummy."

Slap! Gloria's hand again. "Wrong. This time, close your eyes. You can tell me with your eyes closed. I know you can. I want the honest answer."

Petra was now sobbing silently, trying to catch her breath, her eyes screwed shut. Gloria let her sob for a bit, then yanked her head as if she were reining in a horse. "Tell me," Gloria hissed quietly. 

Petra gulped and bit her lip, kicking her feet slowly under the bench. Her other shoe came off and fell on its side. 

"All right." Her breath was loud and hoarse. "All right. I know it's not what you want to hear but it's her feet, her pretty feet, her feet are so pretty." As soon as she spoke she put her hands to her cheek to protect herself. But nothing came. Gloria simply caressed Petra Barter's hand over her cheek, her other hand still firmly gripping her hair in a pony tail. She bent over and kissed Petra's ear, and Petra jerked away. 

"Very good, Petra. Right answer, Petra. It's Madeline's pretty feet you like, isn't it? Tell me about her feet."

Petra quieted her sobs, managing to utter the words through them. "Yes. She has pretty feet. Wears pretty shoes. Her toenails always painted. So tiny, so fine. So.. so..." She had to stop, her words melting away in tears. 

"Yes, they are. Madeline spends hours a week making her feet pretty, Petra. That's why you gave her this solo, isn't it, Petra? You've liked her feet for a long time, haven't you? Even last year."

Madeline was surprised inwardly, but knew the truth of it right away. Yes, even last year in voice class it had been true, but she had never realized it. 

Petra just nodded her head. "Oh god yes. Yes. She has pretty feet. I can't help it! I notice them. It's harmless!"

Gloria nodded. Madeline wiggled her bare toes. Gloria bent over and spoke in a low voice, still holding her professor's hair. "Now then. I want you to ask Madeline if you can kiss her pretty feet. If you are lucky, she will let you."

Petra Barter shuddered, sobbing quietly. Her face was feverish and red. Eventually she got herself under control. She looked up at Madeline, shame burning in her face. Then she looked down, but her gaze fell immediately on Madeline's feet and she couldn't look away. Gloria held her head still. Her upper lip quivering, she gasped out, "please, Madeline, may I kiss your pretty feet?"

Madeline looked at her, her head angled, then looked down at her feet. She wiggled her toes. "You want to kiss my pretty feet? Really?"

Petra groaned, Gloria smiled wide. "Yes, yes, please. I want to kiss your pretty feet. Then will you let me go?"

Gloria yanked her head back again. "That is a terrible way to ask! As if you only want to kiss her feet to get us to let you go!" She yanked Petra's head back again, bending her neck. "Ask properly now. Sincerely. Because I know you mean it."

Petra managed to control herself more quickly this time, and looked up at Madeline, imploring her with her eyes. "Please, let me kiss your feet. I would love to kiss your pretty feet. Your pretty toes. Please!" Her face was streaming with tears, her cheeks burning with shame. Her stocking feet were moving back and forth under the piano bench, showing pink toenails underneath. 

"All right, yes. You may kiss my feet." Madeline wiggled her purple toes again. She moved away from the end of the piano and stood still, her feet together in the black mules. 

Petra moved slowly, as Gloria still held her by the hair. The professor, in her prim clothes, everything now askew, got to her knees in stages, and crawled over to Madeline's feet, like a dog on a very short leash. When she got to Madeline's feet she looked up briefly, her eyes burning, and then bent down. She kissed each of Madeline's feet once, then waited. No one did anything. She kissed them again, first the toes this time, then the top of her feet where the strap of the mules didn't go. She looked up hopefully. 

"Very good, Petra." Gloria leaned over, still holding her by the hair. "Madeline, there is a leash I put out on Petra's desk. Give it to me please."

Madeline passed it. Gloria lifted Petra's hair away and put the leather dog leash around her neck. She stood up, letting go of Petra's hair. "Now be a good girl, Petra. Be a good little pet. Or we will have to punish you."

The older woman looked up now, her hair falling down the side of her face, brushing it from her eyes, frightened. For some reason she was incapable of screaming. It didn't cross her mind as a response in the situation. She felt a tug on the leash. "Ouch! Please don't do that, it really hurts."

"I know. That was just to demonstrate." Gloria looked down at her, cool and cruel. She held out her hand. Petra looked up at her, mind racing, trying to guess what Gloria wanted. Gloria snapped her fingers and held her hands out again. "Your pantyhose." 

"What?"

Gloria yanked the leash, pulling Petra over on her side. Petra got slowly to all fours, then sat on the floor and pulled her pantyhose down. In a few seconds she had it off her feet, holes now at the knees and toes from crawling. She handed it up to Gloria. Gloria threw it over the piano. She held her hand out again. "Now. Your panties."

Petra looked up, shaking her head slowly. "Nooooo," she said hoarsely. "Please... how can you... please..."

Gloria made as if to yank the leash again, but Petra quickly raised her hand. "no please don't!!!!" She started to cry to sob quietly. She pulled her tight skirt up her thighs and started to reach under. She looked down at the floor, not lifting her face at all. A pair of bright electric blue panties appeared, slipping down her calves and over her ankles and her bare feet. Still looking down, she held them up to Gloria, her back shaking with sobs. Gloria bent over and took them from the smaller older woman's hands. She rubbed them in her fingers. She passed them to Madeline. Madeline took them and rubbed them in her fingers. Her eyes widened, and a slow smile started. She lifted them to her nose, then gave them back to Gloria. 

"Wet," she said. 

Gloria nodded and bent over to speak into Petra's ear. "They are wet, Petra. Aren't you ashamed? Why are they wet?"

Petra stayed huddled over, not lifting her head until Gloria gave the leash a short tug. The face they saw was completely overcome. "Because... because... I can't help it. I don't know why. I'm sorry. I'm so ashamed. What are you going to do?"

"They smell nice, Petra." Gloria moved them to Petra's nose, where the older woman had to smell them. "I suppose this means your cunt is wet, doesn't it." Petra jerked involuntarily at the word "cunt". Then slowly she nodded, her eyes lowered completely, huddled down, on her knees, her buttocks in the air. Gloria looked down at the quivering woman, her skirt creased and turned. "No answer?" Gloria lifted the end of the leash and brought it down firmly on the rounded cheeks of her prey. She jerked. "Don't move." She did it again. "Madeline, tell me how wet Petra is. Petra can't tell me herself."

Petra jerked around quickly. "No, no no!!!!" she screamed. "No Don't!!! God no! I'm wet, I'm wet!" She was almost angry, she started getting to her feet. She didn't realize how quickly an athletic girl, used to shoving field hockey players out of the way, could move. Gloria yanked the leash, bringing Petra back down to her knees, then grabbed her hair again and yanked her head back. With her free hand she grabbed the front of Petra's blouse and ripped the buttons off, tugging several times until the buttons were all ripped off, a beautiful lace bra now revealed underneath. Petra looked up in shock, and sank to her knees. She breathed deeply, sobbing, letting it happen. Gloria stopped. "Now listen, pretty Petra, our pretty prof. You are not in control here. We are. Understand?" 

Petra nodded. Gloria yanked her head back. "The answer is 'yes Miss'." 

Petra understood. "Yes Miss."

"Good."

"And you will answer our questions. Honestly. And I will know if you are honest or not. You are wet, yes?"

"Yes Miss."

"What is wet?"

Petra looked up briefly. "My vagina is wet." Gloria's hands clenched around the leash. "My pussy is wet. Miss." Petra looked up hopefully. 

Gloria shook her head slowly. "Not good enough, Petra. Tell me what is wet."

Petra groaned quietly. "My cunt. My cunt is wet. Miss."

Gloria smiled. "And your knees are sore."

"Yes Miss."

"You have dreamed of kissing Maddy's pretty feet many times, yes?"

Petra paused briefly. "Yes Miss."

"Kissing her feet now made you wet. You wanted to keep kissing her feet."

Petra started crying quietly. "Yes Miss" she managed between her tears. 

"Madeline wants to know how wet it made you to kiss her feet. She is going to find out now."

Petra gasped and looked down. "No. Please." Gloria lifted the end of the leash and smacked her music teacher's ass. Again. Again. Petra writhed one way, then the other, squirming away from the leash. "Stop! Yes Miss Yes Miss Yes Miss Yessssssss!" She looked up, imploringly. "Yes Miss."

"Up on your knees again."

Gloria nodded at Madeline. Madeline who had been watching from the end of the piano, absorbing it like she would have absorbed a university lecture, understood exactly. The older woman was kneeling on the floor, hunched over on her elbows. She walked over to Petra, and stopped right in front her, her feet in the black mules inches from Petra's face. "Go ahead," Madeline said softly. "I don't mind. I like it." She smiled down at her music teacher tears running down her face. The older woman breathed in deeply, and uttered a huge sigh, as if a weight had suddenly been lifted. The older woman moved forward tentatively, brushed her unruly hair from her face and lowered her lips carefully to Madeline's toes. She kissed the toes of both feet, then carefully kissed the top of her feet above the straps that went over above her toes. 

"You can take them off, please." 

The older woman looked up quickly, not wanting to do anything wrong. Quickly she moved her deft fingers forward, and undid the strap around Madeline's ankle, and tenderly lifted the small girl's foot, and slipped off the shoe. Then she did the same to the other foot, placing the pair of shoes side by side. She lowered her lips again to the bare feet, and ran her fingertips along the top of Madeline's soft feet, down to her purple toes. Gradually, she stopped. She looked up, blushing. "Thank you."

"It makes you wet, doesn't it."

"Yes, it makes me wet. I can't help it."

Madeline moved behind the older woman. Her skirt was askew, pulled halfway up her thighs. Madeline very carefully leaned down and slid her bare foot along Petra's calves, pushing them apart. She heard a small whimper. She took the hem of the skirt, peeling it up. Once it was at the top of Petra's thighs, she slid her foot further along Petra's calves to her knee, parting her legs. She leaned down. Her fingers moved up inside the music teacher's thighs and found a perfectly smooth, swollen pussy. "She's smooth. Silky smooth." Madeline said. Then she moved her fingers along the older woman's slit, parting her labia, soaking wet. The scent of the woman's wet pussy struck her nostrils. She smiled. Two of her fingers penetrated the older woman's pussy, and she thought she detected some pressure back on her fingers. Gloria really was amazing. She just knew. Madeline sunk her two fingers deeper, slowly deeper, into the older woman's pussy, and as she did so there was an audible moan from the older woman's mouth. Her knees widened and she made no secret about pushing back now. Madeline let her fingers slip and press and explore, feeling the lovely wet velvet of the older woman's cunt. Then she stopped. A moan issued from the woman on the floor. 

Madeline looked up at Gloria. "I would love her clothes off. Completely. Can I have her with her clothes off? Over there, on the rug?" She spoke as if Petra wasn't even there, just an object. 

Gloria beamed. "Did you hear that, what Madeline would like you to do?" 

Petra was crying again, quietly. "Yes Miss." She crawled over to the large Persian rug under the bay window. Madeline sat in the armchair in her bare feet, her legs crossed, her white tights encasing her lovely legs. Petra sat at her feet, on her haunches,unzipping her skirt and pulling it down. She pulled off the torn blouse. Madeline smiled at her. Behind, Gloria held the leash. Petra looked up, hoping she was doing the right thing. She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders, blushing as it fell to the floor. She reached slowly behind her back and unhooked her bra. She knelt at Madeline's feet then, her eyes gazing at them. Her face was beet red. 

Madeline sat there, looking down at her music teacher. Gloria stood behind the smaller, kneeling woman, beaming. Madeline beamed back. It was like a gift: Gloria was offering a gift to her.

Petra's head was still bowed, but every few seconds her eyes flickered up, trying to see what was happening. Her skin was creamy white, with a few freckles. Madeline thought her breasts had a lovely shape. Like swelling pears, the nipples tiny and hard and swollen. Her stomach was flat, her legs were shapely. Madeline pushed Petra's knees apart slightly, which gave a good view of her mound. A small tuft of mousy brown hair, neatly trimmed, and no hair on her labia. They were pink and swollen, her pussy lips, the edges of her tiny pink petals showing through. 

"Come closer," Madeline said.

Petra shuffled closer on her knees. Until she was only a foot or so from the front of Madeline's chair. Madeline took her bare foot and pressed it against the inside of Petra's knee, pushing her legs wider apart. 

Petra looked up suddenly, scared. Her hands made a reflexive motion to cover her pussy, but remained on top of her thighs. "What are you going to do to me?" she whispered hoarsely. She looked up imploringly into Madeline's eyes.

But Madeline was impervious. She was the other half of Gloria's intensity: deep, hard, detached. She looked up at Gloria. "I think she needs her hands out of the way."

Gloria leaned down and took Petra's hands, first one, then the other, and pulled them behind her back. She reached down and looped the long leash around the music teacher's wrists and stood up. 

"Thanks," said Madeline. Her eyes bore into Petra's. "You have a cute body, Petra. I like it." 

Petra's face turned deeper red, and her face quickly transformed into the most unlikely and most fleeting smile. "Thank you," she said, then lowered her eyes. 

Madeline was a natural. "And lovely legs." Petra smiled again. Madeline trailed her bare toes up and down Petra's thighs, dragging them along the inside of her thighs, rubbing softly. She stretched her foot under Petra's crotch, and slowly, gently brought it up against the older woman's pussy, sliding it back and forth slightly. Petra whimpered. She shifted her hips involuntarily. Madeline dragged her toes up Petra's slit, parting her cuntlips, and let her big toe press down on Petra's clit. Petra shuddered and moaned.

"Look," said Madeline quietly. Petra looked down. Madeline's foot was glistening with the juices from Petra's cunt. 

Petra looked up, beseeching. "Please don't." 

Madeline said nothing, just let her own eyes pierce Petra's. 

Both women were watching Madeline's toe slide up and down Petra's slit, the purple nail appearing and disappearing, circling the woman's clit, pressing down on it, then sinking further and finding her pussyhole, pushing into it, then sliding up and away. Petra was shuddering, biting her lip, her thigh muscles visibly tensing. Her cunt was dripping down Madeline's foot, betraying her. Madeline could feel the slick wet of the insides of Petra's thighs. "You have pretty breasts, too, Petra." She lifted her foot from Petra's cunt and pressed the wet toes into the nipple of her right breast, then flicked it with her toe. Petra managed another smile, a quivering smile through her arousal and her humiliation and her need and her fear. 

Madeline returned her toe to her music teacher's wet cunt. She slid it along her slit, parting her pussy lips, digging it into her pussyhole, then up to her clit, circling, pressing, lifting, flicking. Petra was now muffling her soft moans, gulping, closing her eyes, opening them nervously to look at Madeline then quickly looking down at the girl's toes in her cunt. She groaned. Her body shuddered again. "Please..." she said. "Don't." She shuddered. "Please..." the word exploded breathily from her lips. "Oh god..." She bit her lip. Her body jerked once. Jerked again, then stilled. "Please please..."

Madeline kept massaging her clit slowly with her toe, not answering Petra at all, just watching, as if she were studying the creature before her, seeing how it behaved in captivity. Soon, Petra couldn't contain her moans, couldn't contain her body's reactions. She started shifting her hips, pressing down on Madeline's foot against her clit. Moving over it rhythmically, then stopping, as if she suddenly realized how unbecoming it was. Then she would lose control, and start moving again. Both Madeline and Gloria were mesmerized. Madeline tensed her foot, meeting the pressure of Petra's movement. Every few seconds Petra would glance up, flash a hot, weak smile, her cheeks flushed, then look down again. She would close her eyes. Breathe faster. Moan louder. Eventually she started humping faster, grinding her clit back and forth over Madeline's toes and the top of her foot. Her muscles clenching, tightening. Soon she was almost shouting. Quick sharp moans, almost shouts. Then it happened. She came. A river of moans poured out of her mouth, a river of juices from her cunt, her body bucking against Madeline's foot hard and fast. Faster and faster. Then clamping her thighs on the small girl's foot. Then opening and pushing down, then clamping, spasming, fucking hard. She gripped Madeline's foot tight in her thighs, her shudders continuing. She fell over, Madeline's foot slipping in the wetness of her tight thighs, spasm after spasm. Her head lay on the floor, the moans getting quieter. Then she cried. Sobbed and cried. 

After a few minutes she collected herself. Gloria reached down and pulled her up by the shoulder. Madeline left her wet, glistening foot between Petra's legs, which were now spread again. Petra's tear-stained face looked up, absolutely red with shame. She smiled weakly, looked up at Madeline, then down, then up, and down. 

Gloria leaned over and half-whispered into Petra's ear. "What do you say, Petra?" 

Petra looked up nervously, her chest heaving, her breasts lifting and falling in the waning afternoon light, her eyes skittering between Gloria and Madeline as Madeline rubbed her still-wet foot against the inside of Petra's thigh, also still wet. 




How Beautiful Are The Feet



She looked up at Madeline. "Thank you. I mean thank you Miss." 

Madeline looked down at her and smiled briefly, hardly acknowledging Petra's words before reaching out with her toe again and pressing it against Petra's slit. She jumped and whimpered. "Oh please. I can't. It's too much."

Gloria lifted the end of the leash and brought it down smartly on Petra's buttocks. She cried out, then bit her lip, batting back her tears. "Too much?" Gloria said. "We have hardly started with you." 

An involuntary whimper rose in Petra's throat. She looked up at Gloria, slightly frightened. Madeline stopped playing with her pussy. 

Madeline looked up at Gloria, her toes just wiggling slightly against Petra's pussyhole. "Say that again, Glo," she asked.

"Say what?"

"Say we aren't finished with her. Tell her what we are going to do."

Gloria looked from her friend to the music teacher naked on her knees, squirming on Madeline's toe. "Yes, Petra. We aren't finished with you at all. You are ours now, you know. We own you." Petra whimpered, breathing hard. "We are going to use you completely. We are going to do everything you ever dreamed of. How does that make you feel?" Petra whimpered again, her hips shifting on Madeline's hand. 

"God," Madeline said. "Don't stop. Every time you say something I can feel her leaking down my toes, a little surge of wetness."

Petra looked at her, biting her lip, her hips lurching. "Please," she said. " Please... Don't do this to me. I can't help it." She tried to stay still. 

Gloria continued. "Oh a bit of a slut, are you, Petra? We are going to spread you apart, push you to the edge, spank your ass and play with your cunt, fuck you till you can't stand it any more. Till you pass out. Till you can't stand it any more."

Petra suddenly started bucking faster, harder on Madeline's foot. She shuddered, crying out, her thighs squeezing together as she came on Madeline's foot again, bending right over, her head resting on Madeline's knee as she shuddered and shook. She groaned as she came again. 

"Well will you look at this fucking slut. How long have you had this need inside, Petra?" Gloria leaned down and undid Petra's hands. 

The older woman pushed herself up from the floor with her hands. She was breathing hard, her cheeks inflamed. She looked up, again with that weak smile. "I can't help it. I'm so ashamed." She lifted her fingers and adjusted the collar around her neck. 

Madeline looked down, smiling just a bit, then held out her hand for the leash. "Here."

Gloria gave it to her, and smiled, her face radiant, almost. As if she had now passed over her gift. "Now Petra. I want you to take off Gloria's jeans." 

Petra looked up, wide-eyed, and Madeline just leaned back, flicking the end of the leash across Petra's thighs. "Ouch! Yes Miss, yes!"

Petra turned to Gloria, who stood there, a bemused smile on her face. Then Gloria looked down at Madeline and shook her head. "You fucking bitch. You are too fucking awesome."

Petra quickly leaned up and unbuttoned Gloria's jeans, pulling them down with her quick hands. She looked over at Madeline, who simply nodded. "I want you to kiss her thighs. Then her mound. Don't stop till I tell you."

Petra slipped her fingers inside the elastic of Gloria's panties, and pulled them down. Gloria stepped out of her jeans and panties. Every time Madeline saw her, she marvelled at how hard Gloria's body was. The muscles on her thighs were like a sprinter's and her tummy was sculpted, you could see the pouches of muscles. Madeline could see that Petra could hardly believe it, also, running her fingers over the silky hard skin of Gloria's thighs, her head about a foot from Gloria's neatly trimmed pussy. Petra started kissing Gloria's thighs, her soft lips against the hard flesh. Gloria looked down, then over at Madeline, parted her thighs and sank her hand into Petra's long brown hair. She put both her hands on the sides of Petra's head, her fingers sinking into the long brown hair. She pulled the older woman's face against her thigh. Moved it to the crease of her thigh, the woman's tongue flicking, trying to kiss and flick. Gloria knew no patience, though, always needed the direct treatment. Within a minute she was pressing her crotch into the woman's face, spreading her legs. 

"Yessssssss," said Madeline. Madeline could see the woman's tongue reaching forward, her head angling as Gloria pushed it against her cunt, Gloria using Petra's mouth and face as if it were some toy. Soon, she was heaving, tensing, her legs and hips pumping against the older woman's mouth. Petra whimpering, trying to fuck Gloria with her tongue. Her face was wet with Gloria's juices, her hands were wrapped around Gloria's buttocks, her fingers digging in. 

"Oh yes baby. Fuck me with your tongue. Yes nice and deep." She was grinding now, her cunt moving around and around on Petra's face, spreading the glistening wetness of her juices over the smaller, older woman's mouth and chin. Finally Gloria shuddered, and dug her fingers into Petra's head, mashing the music teacher's face into her quaking pussy. "Yes! Yes! Yes!!" she cried. "Yes, fuck me with your tongue you bitch, you beautiful bitch!"

Gloria looked down at her when she was finished, then over at Madeline, who had hiked up her skirt and slipped her fingers inside her tights, slowly moving her fingers under the white material. Petra leaned back on her haunches, the leash hanging down, held at the other end by Madeline's free hand. Petra was wondering what was next. Wondering if they were done with her. She stared over at Madeline fingering herself, and looked up into Madeline's eyes. She was trying to sense her next task. Trying to sense if they were finished with her. 

Madeline was the deeper one, deeper than Gloria, no doubt. She saw how far this could go. She sat with her legs spread, looking at her hard-bodied friend standing there in her sweatshirt, her thighs shining, and then down at her humiliated music teacher, and continued fingering herself. Finally she took her fingers out and licked them. 

She passed the leash to Gloria, who stood there dressed only in a sweatshirt, her face flushed. "What are you looking at, Petra?"

Petra jerked her head up from her focus on Madeline's fingers under her tights. Her face colored deep red. 

Gloria saw Petra's hesitation, and now holding the leash, and being much less patient than Madeline, brought the leash down hard on Petra's bare buttock. Petra squealed and jumped. "Tell her! What were you looking at, you little slut?"

Gloria made as if to jerk the leash, but Petra looked up, to stop her. "No! Please." She looked back at Madeline's face. "I was looking at her fingering herself."

"And did you like watching that, Petra? Tell me the truth now. Remember: I know these things."

Petra hardly waited. "Yes I liked it."

"What was she doing? She was fingering herself? How else would you describe it?"

Petra's eyes slitted. "She was fucking herself."

Gloria smiled. "Yes, she was fucking herself. Did you want your fingers there, Petra?"

Petra nodded. "Yes Miss. I wanted my fingers there. Fucking her. I've wanted to do it for months."

"Oh you are a nasty girl, Petra. Just ask her, then. Maybe you'll get your wish."

Petra looked up at Madeline, who was spreading her legs her white tights encasing her pussy, her skirt hitched up, a line of wetness along the gusset of the tights. "Please, Miss, I want to fuck you. I want to taste your cunt, Miss, and make you cum. Make you cum hard. May I?"

Madeline smiled slowly and simply nodded. Petra moved closer, slid her hands up Madeline's thighs pushed her skirt up around her waist and tugged on her tights, unpeeling them. Under the tights, Madeline was wearing no panties. Petra, her face reddened from being ground into Gloria's pussy, now placed a kiss on Madeline's bare knee, then looked up at Madeline, smiling. Gloria smacked her ass with the leash. "Come on. We have plenty more to do to you."

Petra whimpered, and started to kiss Madeline's thighs as skilfully as she could. Her fingers pressed into the white flesh of Madeline's inner thighs, spreading her legs apart. Her attention was beautiful, measured and delicate, gradually increasing in intensity. Soon, Madeline was moaning herself, shifting her hips and looking down, her hands gripping the sides of the armchair she was seated in. Petra's tongue dipped into Madeline's slit, down to her pussyhole, diving in as deeply as it could go, then sliding up to her clit. The tip of her tongue lifted the younger woman's clit, then circled it, pressing against it. Two of her fingers parted her student's labia, then slowly sank into her pussy, slowly moving in and out, massaging inside, causing Madeline to jerk up, and close her eyes. Soon, there was nothing but ecstasy on Madeline's face. She erupted. Shaking like an earthquake, like a mortar shell had just dropped in the next room. 

She subsided, and smiled out glassily. She extended a finger to Petra's glistening cheek. "Thank you honey."

Petra smiled. For a few minutes Gloria simply stood watching, looking down at her friends spent, pink-petalled pussy, and down at their music teacher who was gathering her own thoughts, looking up at the younger women and then down again. 

"I'm..." Petra stopped. She looked up. "I'm so ashamed. What are you going to do to me? Are you going to ruin me? I have no idea what I'm going to do. I mean tomorrow, and the next day, and next week, and next month."

Gloria smiled down at her. "Oh don't worry about that. We'll tell you. After all, we own you, you realize? Besides we haven't finished. Where is your rope?"

Petra blushed, but didn't deny it. "It's in my bedroom. Across the hall. Bottom drawer of my dresser, under my sweaters."

In a few seconds Gloria returned, a coil of rope in one hand, and a crocheted shopping bag in the other. Petra blushed again when she saw the shopping bag. Gloria dropped the bag in Madeline's lap. 

"Now stand up," Gloria said. "And come over to the piano." She pushed the piano bench out of the way. There were four long ropes, lovely braided nylon ropes. She tied one around each of Gloria's ankles and wrists. She looped the two ankle ropes around the feet of the piano, and pulled hard, gradually spreading Petra's legs, her ass leaning against the rounded edge of the closed piano keyboard. Petra breathed hard, pursed her lips. Then Gloria took the other ropes, the wrist ropes, over the back of the piano, so Petra was bent backward over the piano, her breasts thrust out, her mound pushed forward. 

"What have we got there?" Gloria asked Madeline. 

Madeline just walked over, one of her hands in the crocheted bag. A look of triumph on her face. She pulled out a soft flogger and passed it to her friend. She took out two nipple clamps, pincer clamps, and closed them over Petra's hard nipples, attached by a thin chain. The older woman gasped and jerked. "Ohhhhhhh. God. That hurts. God." She bit her lip, and growled under her breath. Gloria lifted the flogger and let it fall on Petra's mound. Her pussy was spread apart. Gloria kept dropping the flogger on Petra's mound; occasionally one of the strands would lick around and sting Petra's labia. The older woman would jerk, but not complain. Gradually, the skin of her mound reddened. Madeline watched for a while, still holding the crocheted bag, and then pulled out a strap-on dildo, her eyes full of witchery. She unzipped her skirt, and stood in her purple stretch top, naked from the waist down. She belted on the strap-on. Petra realized what was going to happen, her eyes widening, then they quickly glazed over. Gloria was not flicking the flogger on her mound rhythmically, every once in a while bringing it up between the older woman's legs against her cunt. 

"Uhhn. Uhnn." she repeated each time she was struck. "oohhhhhhhwwwwwww." She thrashed her head from side to side. "Fuccccccccccckkk." 

Gloria reached forward and pulled on the chain between Petra's nipples. She dropped it. Tears trickling down Petra's face. "Harder?" Gloria asked. 

Petra simply nodded. Gloria brought the flogger up between Petra's legs. Then on her mound. Soon Petra was thrashing, humping the air, grunting loudly each time the flogger smacked her cuntlips. Gloria increased the pace. 

"Fuck! Fuck! Please don't stop. Don't stop. Please make me cum. I'm cummmminggggggg!!!!!!!" Petra's body shook and thrust at the air and at the flogger as it landed over and over again firmly on her mound and clit, Petra jerking wildly, her ass lifting off the piano and then falling back against it. 

"Out of the way," Madeline said, coolly pushing Gloria aside. She moved toward Petra, the shuddering, trembling Petra still shaking from her orgasm, the thick cock upturned, pointing straight at the older woman's cunt. Madeline touched the end of the cock against Petra's swollen pussy lips, and slid it down her slit all the way. Then up again. Then slowly, slowly, she pushed it inside her. It sank into the woman's dripping pussy so easily, splitting her apart, the thick realistic shaft and head moving deeper and deeper inside her. She started a slow fucking. In and out, the cock glistening. "Look at it, Petra. Look at me fucking you." Petra was almost delirious. Delirious with ecstasy. Delirious with agony. Exhausted. Trembling with aftershocks. 

"Ohhhhhhh..." she gasped with a dying breath. She hissed as the cock sank deeper into her cunt. "I can't stand it. I can't stand it. I can't stand it."

Madeline just kept fucking her slowly. Her lovely athletic friend moved behind her and slipped her hands over Madeline's breasts, massaging them while Madeline was fucking Petra. Petra was shaking like a ragdoll now. Her breath coming fast. 

Madeline turned her head back to her taller friend. "I think she's going to cum again," she said, speaking as Petra was not even there, simply an object they could observe and comment on. Very quickly, Petra started to cry out regularly, faster and faster, starting to fuck back. Madeline kept her rhythm. Then Petra shuddered. Groaned. She screamed out hoarsely, almost voicelessly. Then she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were sunk deeply, wildly, in their sockets. She could not speak. 

Madeline thrust the strap-on one last time deep into her teacher, then unbuckled it, leaving it hanging there, out of Petra's cunt, the belt hanging down the older woman's thighs, swaying as the fucked woman shuddered still, spasmed uncontrollably. 

"Your turn," Madeline said to Gloria. 

"You are too fucking much," Gloria said. She wasted no time, but stepped in front of Petra and buckled the strap-on around her waist, the fake cock still inside the bound woman. Then she started her fucking. 

Petra was writhing now, twisting her body, wrenching back and forth. "Please no please no please I can't take any more no no no!!!" 

But she ran out of breath; she had almost none left. But her cunt wouldn't stop. As Gloria continued fucking her with the strap-on, her cunt continued to respond. Soon she was shuddering again. Cumming again. Reduced to an animal. Primitive. 

This time after she came she crumpled back against the piano, her body limp, simply held up by the ropes. Every few seconds she would jerk as an aftershock rolled through her. Gloria pulled out. The cock head was standing straight out from her crotch, glistening. Madeline moved over and straddled it, guiding it into her own pussy, screaming with delight as Gloria fucked it in and out of her cunt. "Oh yes Glo fuck me fuck me come on fuck me hard. Yessssssssssssssss!" She bucked to orgasm, then crumpled, grinning, around Gloria's shoulders. After half a minute she slowly slid off the hard cock, sucking in air as she did so. She collapsed back on the armchair. Petra was leaning back on the piano still. Her eyes were closed, and she was still breathing hard. The chain of the nipple clamps hung down in a semi-circle. 

Gloria untied Petra's legs, and the older woman unsteadily closed them. The only sound Petra made was a gasp when Gloria undid the nipple clamps. Then she undid the wrists, and put her arms around the quivering, spent woman and guided her over to the couch under the window. Petra's long hair was plastered to the side of her face and her neck. Her breasts were raw, her pussy lips were vivid pink. Tender. Gloria just touched them and Petra jerked, her eyes opening briefly before she subsided into her trance again. 

Madeline appeared with a blanket and placed it over the supine figure of her music teacher. 

They ordered some Chinese food. 

"What are we going to do now?" Madeline said. 

Gloria gave a smug smile and walked over to the bag she had placed on the table beside the piano. She pulled out her video camera. "I think I got almost everything on tape."

"Holy fuck." Madeline could see the possibilities. "You are the awesome one, Glo. Can we edit it. It would make a lovely tape to show anyone, just in case. You know? Can you do that."

"Fucking right. I can do it right here, now. I brought the cables in my case. I'll use her vcr. We don't need to go anywhere tonight, do we?"

Madeline looked over at the now sleeping music teacher. The Chinese food arrived. Gloria worked away. After about three hours Petra awoke. She was disoriented, wanting to believe it had all been a dream. Then she saw the two young women, Madeline flipping through magazines, in her tights and top, but no skirt, and Gloria working at the vcr and television. Madeline went and sat on the couch next to her music professor, and stroked her hair. "How are you feeling now, Petra. You were wonderful, you know."

Petra smiled briefly, then her eyes looked up, full of questions. "What are you going to do with me? What do you want? Are you going to go? What if I tell the police?"

"Oh you won't want to tell the police, will you, Petra? Because if you do, we won't do this again."

Petra's face started to discompose and she sank her head into her arms on the couch. 

"You've been thinking about this, haven't you? Reading about it. You've read all about this, haven't you, Petra? You've got books. You've daydreamed about being used like this, haven't you?"

Petra's eyes betrayed her. She nodded. "Yes."

"You would like us to use you again wouldn't you? Ask politely. Do you realize how many times in your life you might get this opportunity?"

Petra nodded, then blushed deeply. "Would you do that? Would you do this again? Could we do that? Would it work?"

Madeline nodded. "Oh yes. Of course we will. From now on, you are ours. Isn't she, Glo?"

Gloria grinned. "I think we should show her something. Petra, this is just in case you have second thoughts. We just want you to see something. See how beautiful you were."

Gloria turned the television to face the other pair. It showed the edited scene, Petra begging to kiss Madeline's toes, then licking Gloria's cunt, then asking Madeline to fuck her pussy. Then cumming over and over again tied to the piano.

"Pretty incriminating, isn't it, Petra? But we won't need to use it, will we?" 

Petra shook her head. She blurted out. "Can I have my own copy?" She had no shame now. 

"Of course," Gloria said. "But first I want you to do something."

Petra looked up, her soft brown eyes pleading almost, willing to do anything. 

Gloria looked down at her lying on the couch. "Kiss Madeline's feet."

Petra smiled, and got down off the couch eagerly, the blanket slipping off her naked body. She placed her lips on Madeline's bare toes, then over the rest of her feet, soft butterfly kisses. She smiled up at Madeline. Madeline smiled at the bliss in the older woman's eyes. "Anything else, Miss?"

The next day, their music teacher asked Madeline if she could buy her a pair of shoes. She blushed hopefully as she asked. The following weekend she took the younger girls to Cape Cod, and wore one of Gloria's hockey skirts and t-shirts the entire time, and did everything the younger woman wanted. She was completely used again. Shamelessly. And so on, all year long. In June, Gloria graduated, and went to Columbia to grad school. Madeline returned to Melville the following September, after summer in sweltering Pittsburgh. But it wasn't the same without Gloria, and the bond between her and Petra lost its intensity, transformed into a poignant friendship between teacher and student.