3 comments/ 45858 views/ 0 favorites Inversion By: A. Amalgam I don't know why I went to the club early. Maybe I figured if I went early I could leave early and get my Saturday night ritual over with then go back home. Every time I go looking for someone all I get is a headache from the loud music, strobe lights, and cigarette smoke. Even when I do score I don't really get anything out of it. Cruising had lost its appeal a long time ago, but what else was I going to do except wander through the smoke, light, and blur of faces. The last thing I remember after taking my drink was looking down at my shoes and wondering why they were getting closer and the music at the bar was getting louder. When I woke I was staring at the ceiling. From an open window to my right I could hear the wind moving through the trees outside. The silhouette of the leaves danced on the ceiling against the blue-gray background of the moonlight. The darkness, the sound of the leaves, and the warm wind were all very soothing--until I tried to sit up. When I tried, I couldn't move my arms. I looked to my right and my left and both my wrists were held by leather cuffs. The cuffs were attached to chrome chains and the chains were bolted to a heavy wooden headboard. There was a small amount of slack in the chains to keep my arms from cramping up, but not enough to allow me to sit up. When I tried moving my legs I discovered they were chained down at the other end of the bed. As I became more alert I felt the soft bed sheets against my skin and realized I was naked, spread eagled, and tied down. I felt the blood drain from my face and my heart stared to race as I realized that whoever took me had me at their mercy. I remembered reading about John Wayne Gacy and how he drugged young men, brought them back to his house where he tortured, raped, and murdered them in his attic. The more I thought about what was going to happened the faster my heart beat, the more I hyperventilated, and consequently I began to tremble all over. I had worked myself into such a frenzy that when I heard the footsteps coming down the hall I jerked hard enough to hurt the muscles in my right shoulder. The footsteps sounded like bare feet on hardwood floor. I could hear them coming from the right side of the house until they reached the hallway. They grew louder and louder until they reached the front door. After a brief pause the door opened and I saw who brought me here. It was a small consolation that it wasn't a John Wayne Gacy type. I couldn't quite make her out in the dark. All I could see at first was a smooth, pale face crowned with black hair, her body covered in a black robe. I could see her better as she went around the room lighting the candles placed on the bookcase, the dresser, and the nightstand to my left. She wore a black silk bathrobe with vivid red trim. Her straight, long brown hair ran down to the small of her back and was pulled back and tied in a ponytail. Her eyes matched the color of her hair and had a soulful quality you wouldn't expect from a kidnapper. The contours of her face were more angular. She had high cheekbones, a squared chin, thick eyebrows, and her cream colored skin contrasted sharply with her dark eyes and hair. As she set the mood a variety of scenarios ran through my head. She could be having a psychotic break and plans to use me in some ritualistic murder. Maybe she's been stalking me for six months and thinks she's having a romance with me. Or she could simply want to get off torturing and strangling me. I didn't think talking to her would help but I couldn't just lay there and let whatever she planned happen. "Look," I said, "I don't know what you're planning but you haven't done it yet, which means you can still let me go and walk away. I won't tell anybody." She sat down on the bed and smiled gently. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to injure you." "Prove it by letting me go," I replied. "I'll prove it by showing you. Trust me." "How am I supposed to trust you when you--" then a thought occurred to me. "How did you drug me anyway?" "You really don't remember seeing me do you?" Her eyes turned towards my body as she ran her hand gently over my chest, pausing at my right nipple and taking it between her fingers. I could feel some of the tension in my body fade into arousal at her warm touch. I tried to snap out of it and focus on persuading her to release me. "Remember you from where?" "The club tonight. You were sitting at the bar alone, looking bored. It was like you were there because you thought there was nowhere else to go. You wanted to leave but didn't know anyplace better. I've seen that look in the mirror a few times myself." "No I don't, I don't understand. Now let me-" I was stopped by the sharp pain shooting through my chest coming from my nipple that she was now pinching hard. I gritted my teeth and held back a yelp. I wasn't going to give here the satisfaction of screaming. Then, just as suddenly as she'd started, she let go and I exhaled and began gasping for breath. I tried to think of a response. What could I say to get her to release me without getting killed? She has a list of triggers I kept setting off. The first was at the bar when I must have ignored her. I remember going to the john for a few minutes. She could have easily spiked my drink. If guys can do it, why can't a woman? Then it occurred to me that this might be some warped from of payback for her. Some guy raped here and now she was getting even. I had to say something, so I said the only obvious thing, " You said you wouldn't hurt me." She gave me that slight smile again and shook her head. "No. I said I wouldn't injure you. All I did was pinch you a little." While keeping eye contact with me she wrenched my left nipple. Again there was the pain, and again I held back a yelp as I kept eye contact in this warped contest. "See," she said. "You can handle that." She then leaned over me and began caressing the nipple she had just attacked. I'd had women suck my nipples before and it was okay, but twisting it the way she did had made it much more sensitive and her now gentle touch as releasing sensations I never thought possible. My body had again gone from tense to utterly relaxed in seconds. The only sound in the world was her lips and tongue smacking together as she massaged my sensitive nub. "Did you like that?" she asked sweetly. I didn't answer. She looked down at my cock and smirked. "So you did." Never losing eye contact, she reached under the bed and pulled out a black nylon gym bag and tossed it onto the bed. My kidnapper then climbed onto the bed, straddling me, and whispered "Time to take this to the next level." I decided reasoning with her was over so I went to my backup plan---I screamed. "Help!" I called out. "Help me somebody!!" "Help!!!" she screamed even louder than I could. We both paused, there was nothing but the sounds of crickets outside. "You see I live miles away from any neighbor. My house is way off the main road and is surrounded by trees. Nobody can see or hear us. We have our own private island." By now my right shoulder was cramping from the strain I'd put on it earlier and I was again trying to hold back the pain, but my tension showed on my face and she took notice. "What's wrong?" she asked. "What do you care?" I responded. She leaned over and gently stroked my face, her concern seemed genuine. "Please, I promised I wouldn't let you get injured." For a few seconds I was silent again. "I've got a bad cramp in my right shoulder." She nodded. "Thank you. Now just relax, I'll fix it." As she slid across me I tried to ignore how good her silk robe felt as it went over my body. Her heat radiated through it and I enjoyed the sensation despite myself. She pulled a small bottle of oil out of the bag beside me and poured a small amount into her palm. After massaging it into her hands she reached under me and began massaging my shoulder slowly. At first she probed for the tight spot, then firmly kneaded it until my cramp went away. As she was tending my shoulder I turned away, again trying to ignore the pleasure she was giving me, hoping I could will away the arousal building in my body. I tried to focus on the candle on the nightstand, which was now emitting a light vanilla scent. After a few minutes the soreness was gone. "Better?" she asked. I nodded. "Good, now we can begin." Again, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small chrome chain. On each end there were small, vice-like fasteners which she placed on each nipple. This isn't to say I let her do this. I tried struggling, shifting around, and even screaming for help. But as she said, we were isolated and I was at her mercy. She simply grabbed each breast and fitted them on. She then began tightening them gradually until the stinging sensation was nearly unbearable. I again fought the urge to cry out, but it was much harder now that I was dealing with the cold, unending pressure of the clamps. Unfortunately, my pain was revealed in my face and she was satisfied with her efforts. I gritted my teeth as the pain continued, trying to stay defiant. She stared back at me cocking her head slightly as she examined my reaction. "Why the fuck are you doing this!?" I asked. "You'll understand later." "I want to understand now!" I replied. "But it's not up to me. You have to see this through to the end. You can do it, I know you can." The next object she pulled out of the bag was a soft bristle brush, which she began sliding over my clamped nipples. Each slow stroke seemed like an eternity of burning pain that was constant and unyielding. By now I could no longer hold my pain in, and with each exhale I let out a muted scream as she would slowly move the brush over each piece of my tortured flesh. Slowly I felt my resistance fading with each stroke as my body began instinctively struggling to get away from the brush each time it came near. I was no longer someone trying to fight a battle of wills with my captor, and my primitive mind began creeping further into my consciousness and I began succumbing to blind, animal panic. I'm not sure how long this lasted, I was just thinking moment to moment, depending on where she was placing the brush. Then she finally stopped. I couldn't believe how exhausted I was just trying to endure the torment. The only thing worse than her putting the clamps on was taking them off. I strained against my chains as one last final shot of pain went through me as she undid both clamps. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, totally oblivious to everything around me, hoping that it was all over. Then she called to me softly and I prepared myself for another round. "You still with us?" she asked mischievously. When I looked to my right I saw what she had in mind. She'd taken off her robe while I was resting and had slipped a dildo on. She let her robe drop to the floor and I noticed that she also wore a black tank top that cut off right at the bottom of her rib cage. As my eyes moved over her I studied her muscular legs, flat abs, and very slight bust line. The combination of her slender figure and her straight hair accentuated her natural elegance and again I was aroused. Then I saw her placing a condom and lube over the dildo and braced myself for the inevitable. She slowly climbed onto the bed again and admired her catch. "Are you going to fight me?" "Are you going to fuck me?" She gave me that coy smile again and nodded. "You have to accept that so you won't get injured. I promised I wouldn't injure you and I keep my promises. Now just relax." I couldn't figure her out what she wanted. The crazy bitch kidnaps me, hold me prisoner, tortures me, yet she simultaneously acts like she cares about me, saying I'll understand when she's done. I was terrified, bewildered, and strangely curious. The crazy lady gave me this look, like she understood what I was going through, and sympathized. She stroked my left cheek, but I was so on edge I jerked away as she made contact. "Don't worry, I'll help you." Leaning over, she went to work on my nipples again. She slowly ran her warm tongue each one silently. They were still very sensitive and the sensations she produced were unbearably good. It's strange, we like to think the rational part of our brain can rule the instinctual part, not the other way around. Yet as I lay there with my captor playing my body like an instrument, setting off all my instinctual cues, I felt my conscious self giving up and giving in to her. As the tension in my body eased, she moved further down, gently kissing my stomach, running her tongue around my navel, and running her trimmed nails lightly along my shaft and scrotum. I was so relaxed from the sensations I hadn't noticed during a brief pause that she'd unfastened my ankle cuffs. When she lifted my legs and began playing with my ass I didn't put up a fight. The combination of the light touch on my cock with the teasing of my ass was driving me into a frenzy and when she finally entered me I didn't fight. For the first time in my life I was going to just let things happen. I had always thought being fucked would be painful. Instead, all I felt was the slight give at my opening, followed by a gentle, steady pressure/pleasure as she went into me. It was so wonderful I moaned as she began moving in and out, slowly at first, but quicker as her own arousal built up from the friction the strap-on was putting on her clit, and she began to moan as well. As I looked up, the serene, detached expression had been replaced by a look of blissful relief as her pleasure began building with each gyration of her hips. Her smile widened, her eyes widened, and her cries of pleasure grew louder, faster, and more frantic. This poised, controlled, articulate woman had changed into an unhinged animal, only capable of expressing herself in a series of moans and squeals as she continued to gently thrust herself into me. The pleasure was so great I was changing too. I had finally let go of everything and given into her completely and utterly. I no longer cared about the next hour, the next day, or the next week, and had become a writhing, moaning thing straining against my chains, and wrapping my legs around her as I helped bring her in closer with each thrust. The only pause in this was when she took her small vibrator and placed the piece of buzzing latex against my penis, making me moan ever louder. The sensation of her inside me, along with the unrelenting pleasure generated by the vibrator reverberating through my cock completely overwhelmed me. It didn't take but a minute of this for me to climax, and she joined me a few seconds later in a chorus of primal abandon as we screamed together. It's not like I haven't had an orgasm before. But all those other times I was so busy concentrating on the girl I was with, making sure I was doing things right for her, or wondering if she was faking it, that I'm not sure I ever truly enjoyed myself. I would go, and go, and go, then feel it come and a few seconds later it would be gone. This time, the orgasm built up much slower, lasted longer, and was much more intense. It went like a surge of warm electricity that washed over me in a massive wave and left a dreamy euphoria in its wake. I was so dazed, having no sense of time, that I barely noticed that she'd had undone my wrists and wiped the cum off my stomach. When I finally sat up she'd changed again. She wasn't my serene captor with the Mona Lisa smile, seducing my body despite my mind. She wasn't the creature who got off from total sexual control. I saw a woman with sensitive eyes, kneeling on the bed, watching me. She had switched her strap on for a pair of plain black cotton women's briefs which matched her tank top. Sitting up and facing her she wasn't as large or invulnerable as she'd been. If I wanted to, I could beat her senseless for what she'd done. But what had she done to me? Despite the pain she gave me I wasn't truly injured, just as she'd promised. She had even tended to my muscle cramp. True, she had taken my freedom for a few hours, but she had given me much more. She had shown me how to let go and place my fate in someone else's hands. She had taken me, carried me through this experience, and showed that I could be safe in her hands. I'd never allowed myself to do that before, no matter how many women I'd slept with. She saw that need in me, that's why she took me. Yet despite her insight I realized she needed to have complete control in order to let go of herself. She had me naked and chained down, yet I'd seen nothing more than her bare legs and arms because she needed to feel protected. I looked at her in both awe and sympathy, and she stared right back examining my every expression with the same serenity she'd had all evening. She had to realize that she was taking a big risk letting me free, yet she seemed perfectly calm. She knew I wouldn't do anything to her, she had seen how much I had enjoyed our night and was waiting for me to admit it, so I did. I moved myself closer until my legs were around her. She stiffened slightly. I then leaned over and kissed her for the first time, gently and deeply. She then smiled and kissed me back as we put our arms around each other. She hugged me tightly like an old friend and whispered "I knew you'd understand." "Thank you" I whispered back. "By the way," she responded, "My name is Alicia." I kissed her again and we both laid down and held each other, taking comfort in our mutual warmth. Again there was nothing but the sound of the wind flowing through the trees outside as I felt her heartbeat against my chest. I've had that heartbeat against me every night since. Inversion (Note: This is a companion piece -- a mirror if you prefer -- to Boarding. That is a fairly classic fantasy done in a fairly classic way; this one ... well it's not quite so straightforward as that. If you like your kinks shaken up a bit, read on. As ever, my thanks to Lisa for advice, encouragement and saving me from the consequences of my own obscurity.) ©2013 The wine wasn't working, so she went back to the bar and ordered vodka, then with the next breath changed it to a double. The barman gave her the glass, accompanied with a look that seemed too knowing. She went back to her table by the window to sit down alone. The pub was quiet and sombre. It did not attract as much business as the club across the road, even this early at night. She looked through the window at length, and then down into the bottom of her glass; and she thought the sort of thoughts that we all have at some time, even the bravest among us. She drank a little vodka, and when she looked once more there was a group standing outside the club. A couple of them glanced idly towards her window, so she looked hurriedly back into her drink to avoid contact. She spent a long time, gazing down through the crystal clear liquid and glass to follow the delicate patterns in old varnished wood as her mind rehearsed all the familiar questions and excuses. She barely registered the door opening nearby or the footsteps going to the bar, but a little while later she realised there was a presence nearby. "Mrs Webster?" She looked up, swallowed hard and hoped her momentary fluster could be mistaken for trying to remember what she had never forgotten. "Ashley, isn't it?" "Close enough, ..." Sitting down across from her: new biker's jacket and short hair, a pint glass on the table. So very different, but there are things you never forget. "... prefer Ash though." She remembered the not-quite cocky look, even though so much else had changed in over six years: raised eyebrow and tilted head. And of course she remembered the height and the easy movement: tennis, wasn't it? Of course it was, why did she pretend she didn't remember everything so clearly? She realised Ash was looking at her hand, as if the band of paler skin was still noticeable. "It's ... umm ... Miss Clark again now." "Sorry." What a very sweet thing to say, she always had been kind. She realised how rude she was being. The girl was ... Really not a girl any more, was she? "My name's Jo." Ash smiled her easy smile and drank some lager. Silence. Jo should really finish up and get going. "Still at the old place?" "Yes. I came up to town to look round museums for a few days." Ash looked across towards the bar, eyes not meeting Jo's. She spoke matter of factly, gently. "Come in with me, if you want." "I'm sorry, Ashley ... Ash, sorry. I don't understand." Ash smiled that same smile, and shrugged very slightly. As Jo finished her vodka, Ash pulled a scrunched-up till receipt from her pocket and scribbled something across it. "My mobile, case you need a restaurant recommended or anything, yeah?" "Thank you, Ashley, that's kind of you." Ash smiled, and Jo could have sworn she winked a little with it. ***** Jo had had a sleepless night. She went out in a grouchy mood, and found herself unable to concentrate at the gallery she visited in the morning. There were, it seemed to her, far too many annoying nudes among the exhibits. A little before noon, her thoughts turned towards lunch. Almost without realising it, she found herself dialling that new number. It rang once, and then she hung up guiltily. Not merely hung up, but turned her phone off until she was sitting on the train three hours later. She was almost home when it rang again. "Hello?" "Hi. I think you called me earlier." "Oh yes, Ashley. I'm ... err ... Look, I've changed my plans a bit, had to go home early. I just thought I'd mention it." "Uh-huh." "Yes. Thank you, Ashley, I was a bit down last night and you were very sweet ..." She trailed away, unsure what to say next. "No worries. Stay in touch if you want, alright?" The line went dead, and Jo was left once again with thoughts that we have all had at some time in our lives. For heaven's sakes the ... The confident and assured young woman had always seemed older than she was, but Jo knew Ash was eight years younger than herself. She knew that with absolute certainty. Ashley, after all, had been one of her pupils. She ate a little when she got home, but then felt sick. The television could not engage her. The evening passed slowly and she longed to go to bed, even though she found herself fearing it a little too. Her mobile rang just after ten. She recognised the number, had almost expected it. "Hello Ashley." "You alright? Did I do something to freak you out yesterday?" "No. No, nothing of the sort. I'm just ..." It faded away again. Endless awkward silence. One of them should hang up, but neither did. "Can I really call you Jo?" "Of course." "This is kinda ... Listen, Jo, it's cool, really it is." "What is?" "I always knew, and I never minded. You were never creepy about it." "I don't know what you mean." There was a long silence, nothing in Jo's ear but the faint hum of the phone itself. "Err ... OK then, that's the way you want it ..." She could hear the hurt. It made her despise herself. "... Sorry to have bothered you." "Don't go, Ash." "Why not?" "I didn't mean to be rude." The tone in her ear changed, not the sweet young thing from before at all: deeper, colder. "That's exactly what you want to be. Ask me not to hang up." "Don't, Ash." "Ask me nicely. Say 'please'." "Please, Ash. I'm sorry if I offended you. Please don't go." "Why not?" "I'd like to talk to you. I'd ..." "Would you like me to do it back to you, Jo? Please ..." All of a sudden that hardness fell away, and there was a small fragile voice in Jo's ear. "... please don't, Miss. Oh no, please --" Jo's stomach lurched over. She turned the phone off and sat staring at it in her shaking hand for five minutes. She had never done anything -- not one thing, not even in her private fantasies. She hadn't ... She wouldn't. She had thought it was entirely hidden within herself. It had happened once in her career. There had been something special about Ashley; something different ... Oh for heaven's sake, Jo; just listen to yourself. What do you sound like? She needed to explain, to make Ashley understand that it had never been the disgusting thing it could so easily seem. She rang back. The cold voice answered. "Yes?" "Ash ..." "Getting a little tired of this hanging up business." "I'm sorry, I didn't --" "Again." "What?" "Say it again." "I'm sorry, Ash. That was very rude of me, I apologise." "Where are you?" "I'm at home." "Where are you?" "I'm in my living room. Why?" "Anyone with you?" "No." "Going to be later?" "No, Ash. Nobody at all." "I'm in bed ..." "That's not really any of my business." "... Alone. Naked." "Fuck's sake, Ashley!" "Oooh, bad words. Say it again, Miss: say 'fuck' for me." "Ash, please!" "Alright, Jo: listen to me. I'm a big girl now, I'm twenty-four and I know what I'm doing and what I want. We both know nothing ever happened back then. Sometimes I like to pretend it did. If you want me to stop I will. I don't want to. I'm in bed on my own and my cunt's wet from thinking about you. I want to hear you talk dirty while I play with it, Jo." "Why are you doing this?" "Because we both want me to. And I'm getting tired of asking nicely. Do what I tell you. Say it for me." Never in Jo's life had a woman spoken to her with that tone of cold contemptuous authority. Not one time, except in her dreams. She tried to ignore the shocking thrill of it; told herself that she had only rung back to explain. "It was never like that." "Yes it was. You wearing a skirt like yesterday?" "Yes. I --" "Hand up it. Miss. Now. That was exactly what it was like, you think you could have taken me out for a meal first? It would be Mrs Webster's hand up poor little Ashley's skirt in a dark corner for a quick frig. Nasty and dirty ..." Jo was very far from a shrinking prude -- oh no, reader dear, this is not that kind of story at all -- but she was not the type who revels in solitary masturbation. Her bedside drawer was not overflowing with exotic delights. It was not a dirty shameful thing to her, merely a lonely and slightly sad necessity. Sometimes she wished it would be dirtier than it was; naughtier. When someone you should never have fancied in the first place rings you out of the blue and announces she's fingering herself over you ... "... Don't make it good, Jo, make it dirty for me -- hand in your pants and rub your clit like you wanted to do mine." "Oh God, Ashley." "Say it, bitch." The detachment was leaving Ash's voice as her breath grew short. Jo found her own hand taking on that same rhythm. "Fuck. Fuck, Ashley. I want you to fuck me, I want to taste your cunt. Oh God, I want to come." "You always have. You want to come thinking about feeling me up, you dirty fucking perv' bitch. Say it to me." "I'm a dirty fucking perv' bitch and I'm frigging myself over you. Fuck me, Ashley ..." Quick and dirty, with that harsh young voice in her ear urging her on and on to say things she'd never even consciously thought. Until the dirty words changed to moans and she heard Ash's orgasm still echoing as her own broke inside her. She was on the floor, legs still wrapped tight around her hand. She realised she was crying. The phone was on the rug beside her, a faint sound coming from it. She picked it up. "You alright Jo?" "I'm ... err ... I'm fine, Ashley." "Know I didn't mean the perv' thing, don't you?" "I'm fine." "Call me Ash." "I'm fine, Ash. It's OK." "There's a couple of weeks of summer holidays left, isn't there?" "Three." "You feel like finishing that museum trip, you've got my number, yeah?" "Yeah. Thanks ... For ..." "Don't worry about that now ..." The concern flicked off like a switch, the distant voice was back. "... You're going to thank me properly next time I see you. Understood?" Before she had time to answer, the line went dead. ***** Jo stood for a moment in the shadow of a phone box and looked across the plaza. There, sitting on a bench beside the river with her back to her, was Ash. She waited for another minute, slowing her breathing and hoping her face wasn't really as flushed as it felt. She felt scared, not of Ash but of herself. Her imagination had never -- not quite -- broken the law. Mrs Webster had taken up her new job and first walked into that classroom a full month after Ashley's sixteenth birthday. And to tell the truth it had been very nearly another year before that honest appreciation of what a truly sweet and pretty girl she was had tipped one sleepless night into something more disturbing. Ashley had been serious -- not some morosely intense Goth impressed with her own seriousness -- simply possessed of an easy confidence; a refreshing assurance that did not need to preen or pose. A seed of something that Jo could find very attractive in a grown woman. Even so, that was potential for the future. It hardly excused the time itself: seventeen against twenty-five; pupil against teacher; duty of care betrayed ... That simply didn't bear thinking about. Except, of course, that Mrs Webster had thought about it. And thought about it. Her marriage had been a mistake, they both soon realised that. Too young, too different, too innocent to realise that 'we can still live our own lives but love each other too' thing didn't work out in practice, certainly not in bed. It was already tottering before dreams of that sweet young girl came between them, but they didn't help. Well, she wasn't a pupil now, was she? There was no duty to betray. Jo took a deep breath and walked towards the bench. Ash was sitting forward with her head tilted down. The fair hair had been shoulder-length back then; now it was fluffy on top, but the back was surprisingly high and tight. Jo's eyes followed the contour of the young woman's long neck, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. The back of Ash's head moved ever so slightly to whatever was coming through her headphones. Jo walked up to her. Oh God, no. The guilt came flooding back. Ash was texting happily away, smile on her face from her music. That confident look was gone, and suddenly she looked so young again. She caught sight of Jo, put the phone in her pocket and pulled out her headphones. "Hi." "Ashley. Sorry I'm late." Ash smiled, back to the old easy way that had been so disturbingly adult on her at sixteen. She nodded at the seat beside her. "Haven't got time to go anywhere. Didn't know what to get you." "You shouldn't have." "Wanted to. Whichever you want ..." Jo sat down and inspected the takeaway sandwiches between them. She hesitated for a moment. "... Oh Christ, you're not veggie or anything, are you?" She wasn't, and it seemed churlish to say that neither would have been her choice. She took the chicken and the cappuccino, leaving Ash with tuna and Americano. "Thank you Ashl- ... I'm sorry, it's a habit." "Really prefer Ash." "Thank you Ash. Can I give you anything towards this." Pause. Hanging again, awkward. Ash looked across the river between mouthfuls "Look, that business on the phone. That's me, alright? I'm not cuddly. You need to know that." Just like ten nights before at the pub, it seemed she needed to look elsewhere before saying something important; as if eye contact was only for the social pleasantries. Jo looked at the profile beside her; at the jaw working on a mouthful of tuna sandwich; at the clichéd masculine charcoal grey suit and off-white shirt. She was almost surprised there wasn't a tie. What on earth was she doing here? Beside this figure that seemed so unlike the sweet child in whom she should never have had an interest to start with? Then Ash looked back towards her and smiled, full mouth and open eyes both lighting up a face that was still pretty despite the hair and clothes. "You were a very kind girl." "Yeah, well. Don't go counting on that, understand? I'm ... I like to get my way. Want to go clubbing tonight? I said I would, if you want, but it's Friday. Be pretty loud and crowded." Young people and young people's music. Ash's friends, of course: drinking and dancing and whatever the recreational chemicals were these days -- wondering why such a stunning girl was chaperoning a frumpy 32-year-old around like a maiden aunt. "I don't want to embarrass you." "Fuck that, I just don't want to have to fight them off you." "Don't laugh at me, Ash. Please." Ash's eyes went back across the river. Her hands were fidgeting, pulling off a small piece of sandwich and running it round the edges of the rest, picking up more tuna until the bread could barely be seen. "I wasn't. I've got a flat, tiny little place but I don't share. Unless you prefer your hotel ..." No, she really did not prefer that idea. She shook her head and gave a helpless shrug. "... Alright then, I'm taking a short lunch so I can go early. See you here at six; we can go for something to eat on the way home. Suit you?" What could she say? What had she expected? Polite seduction? Somehow the casual tone didn't make her feel insulted. She was, she was sure, being treated as a cheap pick-up; but at least it was honest. The idea of making a fool of herself all evening in some club seemed worse. They both knew she'd wanted this for years. "Yes." "Not going to ask any more, you do get that, don't you?" "Yes, Ash. I think so." Ash ate the rest of her sandwich, leaving only that small piece between finger and thumb. She turned and offered her hand up to Jo's mouth. It was incredible, there must be a hundred people around them. Surely she couldn't mean ...? Easy smile, quiet and very calm voice. No harshness in either, and yet there was something not to be argued with. "Do it. For me." She bent her head a fraction and took the food between her teeth. For a moment the tip of Ash's finger was in her mouth, a little stray tuna stuck to the skin. Jo realised she was sucking on it. She pulled back. Ash was still smiling. She leant very close and whispered. "Next time you do that, you know it won't be ..." She didn't need to say any more. Jo knew exactly what it would be, she could already feel it damp on herself. And then Ash stood up and walked off with her coffee. ***** Ash stopped on the landing and pulled a key ring from her pocket. She nodded towards the door to the right of the stairwell before handing the keys to Jo. "In you go." Jo hadn't realised her hand was shaking until she missed the lock on her first attempt. She took a moment to calm herself, aware of Ash's gaze between her shoulders. This was it. Stepping across that threshold would be the point of no ... But surely that had been passed long before? Sucking on that finger earlier today; the inexplicable abandonment to unexpected phone sex last week; all those sickened insomniac two-in-the-mornings when her imagination had drifted too close to the unacceptable. So many Rubicons crossed already. But this was the last and final one, wasn't it? They had eaten on the way, just as Ash had said. There was no fuss made, but Ash had ordered for them both. Ash had sat across the table and watched Jo eat, and Jo had felt the eyes on her body through her clothing. And she had known. In some way that she could never explain she knew that those stumbling fumbling experiments of late teens and early twenties had reached their culmination at last. The boys and girls, scarves and old slippers, all that silly playing about in ignorance led to this door and this young woman. Step through this door and the 'playing games' would be an altogether different thing from the giggly drunken true games of long ago. Turn this lock and find the truth of that sixties song about the sweet-faced girl and the whip in the darkness at last. She opened the door. Ash took the keys from her and nodded her through. She took a step inside, in the light from the hallway and the summer evening dusk through the window. A simple studio flat: bed and armchair, bathroom door and tiny kitchen space to the side. Cluttered and a little untidy. Homely. She barely heard the door shut behind her, and then there was a hand between her shoulders, turning and pushing. The back of the armchair dug into her belly and she felt herself pushed over it, bent double with Ash's shoe hooking one ankle wide and Ash's right hand up her skirt from behind. Fingertips scrabbling at her dampened underwear; ugly and brutal, impossibly thrilling. She realised her own hands were dragging the skirt up onto her hips, her free foot spreading as wide as the one under Ash's control. Her own breathing heavy into the back of the chair; Ash's panting audible behind her. She felt and heard her knickers rip, felt the fingers slipping inside with no resistance whatsoever. "Oh fuck! You dirty bitch ..." Yes Ashley, please. Please make me dirty. Make me feel as ugly as you are beautiful; make me your cheap whore. Please ... "... You are so fucking wet for it. Aren't you Miss? Answer me." Fingers inside her, filling and spreading. Two? Three? All of them? Driving in slow cruel piston strokes that made her grunt into the chair. "Wet for you. Want to feel you. Want you in my cunt." "Say it." "Fuck me Ashley." "Say it." "Please Ashley. My mouth. Make me suck." Inversion Ash's hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her upright, quarter-turned her and pushed her back down. She was kneeling in front of Ash, watching the shirt rise and fall a few inches from her nose in time to the panting. All her attention focussed on the buckle of Ash's belt. "Open." She relaxed her jaw just a little, barely parted her lips; as if there was something unspoken between them to make both understand the other needed penetration rather than gaping invitation. Her own juices smearing on her cheeks and lips as Ash's hand pushed inside, and Jo was sucking on it as she had never sucked on anything before. Taking in the taste of her own arousal and Ash's dominance, swallowing it desperately. She could never remember anything like it: taste filling her mouth and throat, scent under her nose; torn sopping cloth hanging against her; wetness on her thighs. Ash was right -- dirty bitch. It felt so inexpressibly good on her body. Ash pulled her hand free and took a step back. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of their breathing. Very slowly Ash unbuckled her belt and slid it round until the end dropped free of the last loop. "Hold out your hands ..." Jo stretched her arms in front of her, hands close together but not quite touching. She knew exactly what to do, exactly what was coming next. She knew this woman and what was wanted from her. Ash looped the belt lightly over both Jo's wrists. "... That what you want?" "No." Pulling off the wrists again, draping lightly around her neck instead. No need even for spoken question this time, slight rise to the eyebrow answered by slight shake of her own head. Ash's voice was back to that gentle reassuring tone from the pub. "Tell me Jo." "Beat me. Please." She didn't need to be told what to do, didn't even need a light push on her way. She bent down and rested her forehead on the carpet in front of Ash's feet. Her hands slowly pulled her skirt back up and the tattered remains of her knickers just far enough down. When it was done she stretched her arms out in front as if the wrists really were tied, sliding them along the floor between Ash's slightly parted feet. She knew her voice was too soft for Ash to hear her mumble into the carpet, but she said 'please' again anyway. Footsteps in the darkness of her screwed-shut eyes; damp feeling cold and tingling on her thighs; anticipation ... The doubled belt slapped hard across her backside, pushing her face into the floor, whooping the breath from her mouth. Pain behind her, strangely not as much as she had expected. Enough to be sure, but not unbearable. Steps walking round her, laying a mirror image across her from the other side. Six in all, very slow and deliberate; the pain and fear of pain increasing with each one, until the last truly was the most she could stand. Face buried in the carpet and bare backside stuck in the air: arse above head; gaping, drooling cunt bared and obvious to the woman who was hitting her. Availability and submission both total. Please Ashley, please be the meticulously prepared girl you always were. Please have something big and cruel somewhere in this flat to wear for me. Please let me feel your thighs inside mine and your fingers hooked round my pelvis. Please drive into me until the carpet burns my face. Please just fuck me from behind like an animal here on your floor. Please Ashley. She felt Ash's hand in her hair, pulling her up with surprising gentleness. The looped belt dropped over her head and she felt it tighten round her neck. She stared at Ash's trousers in front of her. She watched Ash's hand slowly undo the button and hover at the zip. It had been so long, seven years or more since that last stupid giggling tipsy time. The other girl must have been as old then as Ash was now, but she was a silly girl still, and Ash was so much more than that. And she knew that Ash was enjoying treating her like this, knew she would be as wet and desperate as she herself was. Imagine diving into that and feeling it over her face. Imagine ... Ash slapped her hard across the cheek. She wasn't expecting it, her body wasn't braced and it knocked her sideways to the floor. Whatever tiny thread of self-control remained inside her snapped with the blow. She wanted everything, all at once: to be fucked every imaginable way again and again. Mouth, cunt, arse; to be slapped and spanked; to be cut; to have her face sat on and be made to go down and give her tongue from every angle possible. She looked up, to meet the eyes and let Ash see the desperation of need in her own ... Ash was standing frozen in place, staring at her own hand. When Jo looked up, Ash bolted to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Silence for perhaps a minute, and then Jo heard sobbing from behind the door. *** "Ash?" Jo realised the belt was still hanging round her neck. It seemed important not to leave it there, so she laid it on the bed before going back to the bathroom door and knocking softly. No answer, just the quiet crying. She tried the door hesitantly. It wasn't locked. "Ash, I'm coming in, alright?" Ash was sitting on the side of the bath. Jo squeezed into the tiny space and knelt at Ash's feet. She reached out for Ash's hand. "What is it baby?" "I'm sorry. I don't know what ..." "It's alright. Honest, it's just fine." "I hit your face." "Hey, hush now. It's fine. I really didn't mind." "I'm so sorry, Jo. I'm ... Look, I'm just sorry. I didn't ..." Ash must have realised she was beginning to babble. She stopped and swallowed, gripped hard on Jo's hand. "... I haven't really done this before. There was a girlfriend, you know, and we ... We had some fun, but all it was was fun, it never got as heavy as that. And then I saw you last week, and you just made me feel so weird. The way you looked sitting there, and I just wanted to ... Fuck, Jo, you just looked so hot. You always have." "I'm sorry?" "Did you ever? Back then, did you ever think about me and ... you know?" "No, Ashley. Never. I promise." "I did. So often. Lying there in the dark and thinking about you. I wished you were. Like if we were both doing it over the same idea we were sort of doing it together. And then you were sitting there looking all little and sad, and I just wanted to protect you." "Oh Ashley, that's so sweet of you." "I just fucking hit you, I'm not sweet. I'm a vicious bitch." "I don't believe that." "You looked so cute, you know? And I thought, maybe ... But you went away. I wasn't angry, I promise it wasn't that. I was just talking to you on the phone, and I could remember how good you look but I couldn't actually see your face. I could just hear your voice, and you're you, and it was so hot talking like that and I just got carried away. Did it again just now. I am so fucking sorry." Jo stroked Ash's face. She didn't have a clue what to say. For a moment she wondered if it was all part of whatever game Ash had been playing, then she looked at the girl's face and hated herself for the thought. The poor thing was distraught. She really did look like a girl again, just as sweet and perfect as she had on that first day that knotted Jo's stomach and made her hate herself. "What do you mean, Ash: I am me?" "You're the one. Don't you realise that? Always have been. So wanted to give it up to you, right now I want to apologise I didn't." "Oh my baby." She had said it before, without thinking. But this time they both noticed. Ash pulled herself together a little. "Look, I really ought to go to bed. I'm so fucked up. Can you do me a favour? There's a couple of bottles in the kitchen. Take them with you, yeah? Don't leave me alone with them." "Ashley, I don't want to leave you alone at all. You're in no fit state. Can I stay please?" "Sure you want to?" "I do. I'd rather not sleep in the armchair either, would you mind that too much? I'm going to go to the kitchen and make us something sensible to drink; you get changed if you want. I haven't brought anything to ... If you want to lend me something, that's fine; I'm quite happy if you don't. Come on, sweetheart, let's get you to bed." When she came back with two mugs of cocoa, she found Ash curled in the bed wearing an old T-shirt. Jo sat on the edge while they drank, and quietly told Ash to please stop apologising because there was no harm done. Then she switched off the light before slipping out of her clothes and climbing into bed. Ash snuggled into her breasts, and Jo rocked her to sleep. ***** Jo woke up to find Ash's arm draped over her and Ash's breath snoring lightly at the back of her neck. She realised with the gentlest of shocks that there was no other shock: none of that strange disorientation that comes from waking in a room not your own. It felt very comfortable here with the slight pressure of another person behind her. The sleeve of Ash's T-shirt had pushed up onto her shoulder in the night, and Jo could just see an unfocussed dark something at the edge of her vision. It made her smile, she had never been in bed with a tattoo before. She wanted to move her head back to see what it was; she was more than a little tempted to kiss it, but doing either would disturb Ash and that was unthinkable. She carefully lifted Ash's hand and placed it on her own breast. It begin to squeeze instinctively, even though Ash was still asleep. Jo found herself fighting the temptation to push it down between her legs. She couldn't use the poor girl like that. She found herself imagining that she had slept late instead: waking hot and confused to find that Ash had been groping her, fingers already inside as she came to ... "Morning." "Hello there." Ash's hand stopped guiltily. "Sorry." "Don't be. I was enjoying it." "Sorry about last night. Made a complete prat of myself." "No, you didn't." "Forgive me?" Jo turned round to face her. God, the poor thing, she looked devastated. Jo stroked her face. "Nothing to forgive." "I hit you." "You did. It was rather fun. I'm just like you, Ash, I've played a few games but I've never found the right person to do it for real. I'd like to try with you, if you'll let me." "Sure?" "Certain. You didn't do anything wrong at all, baby; the only thing you did that I regret was stopping when you did." She took Ash's hand gently and laid it on her still tender backside. Ash's kneading made her gasp. Ash didn't stop. "Don't ever want to hit your face again." "Then don't. Just hit my bum instead. Sit on my face ..." For all the easy smile and confidence, Ashley had always seemed a very open girl. Not quite as much as Jo had supposed, of course, now she knew of the secret inside, but her moods had always been there right on the surface. She had never been a good liar. Jo felt the thrill ripple through herself as Ash gripped her harder and inhaled sharply. "... Like that idea? I'd like you to; tie me down and sit on my face. Make me make you come, take that from me without asking. I'd like us to try that. Let me please you." Jo's hand pushed into Ash's shorts and stroked lightly along the cleft. Ash rolled over on her back so Jo could nestle against her shoulder. "Please Jo." "Don't say 'please', just instruct me. Tell me, or take my hand in yours and show me. Tell me the truth, Ash, what's the worst thing you've ever imagined doing to me?" "No." "Please." "No. Just don't, alright? It's disgusting, I'm really sorry. Don't spoil the mood, please." "Tell me, Ash." "Let it alone, yeah?" Lips parted under her fingertips, Ash gasped against her. She was still so transparent and adorable; she hadn't been able to stop her eyes flickering towards the bathroom door. That wasn't so bad, in fact it was one of those things that Jo had always wondered about. She rested her head on Ash's shoulder and spoke as softly as the stroking of her finger. "Just listen to me please, Ashley. Hear me out. I'm going to do my best, but it won't be good enough. I'll give you an adequate but not perfect orgasm, so you're going to give me a bit of a spank for spoiling it ..." Ash's hand was on the back of hers, manipulating her finger against Ash's clitoris. She looked at that beautiful profile with its open mouth, and whispered into the ear beside her. Whispered things that she had never imagined saying aloud to anyone. "... then you're going to take me next door and teach me a lesson I won't forget. I'm not going to drink it, Ashley, I'm not prepared to do that but I will let you do anything else you want. If neither of us like it, we don't ever have to do it again, but you're going to do it this morning to put me in my place for good. Piss on me, my Mistress; and then wash me down. Make me dirty, make me clean again. Make me yours. Please." She nestled into Ash's shoulder, nibbled gently on Ash's ear, and tried her very almost-best to please her Mistress. ***** They spent the Saturday afternoon looking round the gallery that Jo had abandoned the previous week. Ash was quiet and easily conversational, careful to give Jo space. They might have looked entirely innocent to a casual observer, but Jo felt the comfortable reassurance of another person beside her. To her surprise she found the knowledge of what had happened earlier equally reassuring -- that one had always been the dirtiest of kinky secrets in the very back of her mind, she had wanted it because there was a part of her that wanted to take the nastiest thing that Ash could do to her. Now it had been done, the memory gave her an utterly unexpected glow of belonging. Poor Ash, it had turned out not to be her kind of thing after all, but it wasn't as if they had to make a habit of it. So they had walked around -- Jo looking at the exhibits and Ash looking at Jo -- and Jo caught herself talking like a teacher and apologised for going on. Ash had given her that easy smile and said she liked to listen. Back to Ash's tiny flat: to an evening in bed that was gentle and mutual between them; to a long slow Sunday morning that sometimes wasn't at all gentle. In between they had the practical responsible talk the situation required: a safe word, and those few things that really did have to be off-limits. Ash had explained, very slowly and very carefully, that they needed to face that looming elephant in the corner. She would play if Jo wanted to, she wanted to play it herself, but it would never be anything but a game between two people who understood that Jo hadn't really done anything wrong back then. That wasn't negotiable, Ash had no resentments to work out and she wasn't prepared to feed Jo's paranoid fancies. Jo had agreed, and hoped it was true, and for the first conscious time in this bizarre rollercoaster of emotion and intense desire had realised she was in something closer to love than lust. Ash had a job to go back to on Monday, as much as Jo had a new school year to prepare for. Parting wasn't easy but it was unavoidable. They emailed and phoned. Sometimes the phone calls were sweet and everyday -- how are you, how was work, what did you have for tea -- sometimes they weren't. Jo invited Ash down for a weekend, and was touched by the answer. Was she sure? Ash was out, and not a teacher, and living in the anonymity of a far larger city; she would understand if ... Jo had invited her again, and she'd accepted. Jo found herself unable to sleep, at two in the morning she had switched on her computer to check the rail timetables. Ash had to make one change, if Jo caught the first train of the day she could meet her there and have almost two hours more together. She felt like a teenager again, so caught up in the whirl of passion. For a moment she considered the awful possibility of missing their connection, and then she reflected that mobile phones had surely been invented to allow lovers to do silly impetuous things and still keep in touch. And so she sat on the platform seat a little after eight with a slight early September chill in the air, and scanned the people stepping out of the carriage until she saw Ash and something fluttered inside. Walking easily towards her with that open smile and a rucksack over one shoulder of the leather jacket. Leather carried thrilling implications in Jo's mind: to be honest, she preferred the look of that suit, but leather would more than do for now. "Hi, been waiting long?" Too long. Far, far too long; but you're here now and it doesn't matter anymore. "Not at all. Got time for a coffee?" They sat over a brief cup. Ash looked a little nervous, which made Jo want to cuddle her. She was ... Well, she was simply still very young in some ways; and there are certain things that need to be grown into. They had talked about this before. Ash -- the strong, confident and sexual but still very sweet person Ash truly was -- sometimes felt a little nervous about it all. Jo gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Train'll be here in a minute, Ashley." The woman across the table squared her shoulders, and Jo looked into Ashley's face and felt the overwhelming need to be simply and selfishly fucked flood through herself. *** Ashley nodded at a seat, which Jo took without a word, and stowed her rucksack in the luggage rack overhead. Jo was amazed at the power of the thrill: body leaning above her; that same belt near her face; jacket hanging open with the scent of new leather in her nostrils. Ashley sat down opposite her and the train started. Jo, of course, was facing backwards. It was just a little disorientating, it focussed her attention on Ashley. The woman she was really coming to think of as her lover might be a little hesitant, but she obviously had very good instincts where this was concerned. The carriage was quiet -- all the traffic at this time of day was in the opposite direction -- and there was nobody on the other side of the aisle. Ashley spoke softly, she didn't draw attention but neither did she seem to be too concerned about being overheard. "Turn you on? Dressing like that?" She was looking at Jo's blouse, taking in the very apparent fact that there was no bra underneath. She must be able to see that the looking itself was causing a reaction. "Sorry." "Don't be, I like it. What about ...?" No need to say what about, of course. "Yes. I am." "Why? Think I want you to?" "I don't think you want me to decide. I think it's your choice." Once again Ashley gave her that small, subtle nod. She went to the toilet and came back with her knickers stuffed in the pocket of her coat. She had barely sat down when the conductor arrived to check their tickets. She felt so cheap and vulnerable knowing the state she was in a few feet from him. He moved a little down the aisle and another passenger asked him about connections to Liverpool. "Give them to me." Quiet voice but emphatic. Jo took them out of her pocket with the sound of that innocent conversation loud in her ears, and attempted to pass them under the table. Ash shook her head, subtle as always. Jo tried to ball them up until they were invisible in her hand. Please, please do not let someone wander past on their way to the buffet. She put her knickers on the top of the table, and Ashley casually scooped them up and into the pocket of the biker jacket. Yes, Jo did prefer the suit overall, but there's something rather special in thinking a woman is carrying your undies as a trophy in her leathers, isn't there? Ashley straightened out, pushing her calves between Jo's and oh so slightly spreading her legs. Her voice continued in its easy conversational tone. "If I told you to go back there ...?" Once again, the implication so clear; so much dirtier sometimes for not being said than the dirtiest of words could be. Yes, Mistress: I would frig myself off to order in the toilet compartment of a train, with strangers on the other side of the door. Yes I would come back to you and let you sniff at my hand to prove it, if that's what you wanted. I would -- I will -- do what you tell me to. Inversion "Of course, Ashley. Whatever you say." ***** Jo was not an innocent. She had only ever tried the lightest of experiments in reality, but there was enough stored on her Kindle that she would rather not let others see; a folder among her internet bookmarks hidden under a very boring filename. She had read and imagined over the years; little of it prepared her for Ashley. The leg between hers under the table and the steady look as they chatted made her feel entirely open, but there was nothing that could possibly draw attention from anyone who saw them. They caught a taxi from the station and Jo felt horribly aware of the state the back of her skirt must be in by now. Ashley behaved with complete innocence. After that brief moment on the train, it seemed public humiliation was something she had sampled and found wanting; that she did not need to do it again. Jo opened the front door and showed Ashley in. She felt at once reassured and nervous of the tall young woman with the leather and the rucksack, the size of the presence in her own home for the first time. Ashley's eyes wandered round the living room, came to rest on the rug in front of the settee and she smiled without saying a word. "Would you like to take your stuff upstairs?" "Please." "There's a ..." Jo didn't know how to say it. She had, without meaning to, fallen into a life that could only be described as celibate. This was the house of her marriage; after it ended there had been an unwise affair, but that was a hidden thing of stolen hours rather than weekends together, and then for over a year there had been nothing at all. She hadn't been in this situation for so long, not since she had been living in a tiny flat not much bigger than Ash's. "... If you'd like some space to yourself. There's a spare." Ashley smiled at her. "Rather not. Mind?" "I'd rather not too. Let me show you." Jo led the way up the stairs. Ashley unslung her rucksack and leant it against the bed in Jo's room before looking around. She went to the dressing table and idly picked up Jo's hairbrush. She was calmly studying it when she spoke, once again looking anywhere but at Jo's face. "Unbutton your blouse for me." "I'm sorry?" "I won't ask again, Jo. Do what I tell you or I'll just take instead ..." Jo's throat felt tight as her fingers flustered at the buttons. Arousal made her feel light-headed. She wanted to sit down, she wanted to press her knees together. The thought of Ashley taking was almost irresistible; it carried her mind back to being bent over that armchair, except that this time would be better than that, because now they both knew what they wanted from it. But they could do that later, when the mood was right. For now, giving seemed more appropriate than being taken. Ashley faced her at last. "... this is my room. Anywhere else in your house you can call me Ashley, but when we're in this room I expect 'Mistress'. Every time, understand that?" She took two steps to face Jo and slid her hand inside Jo's blouse, taking a nipple gently between thumb and finger. "I understand, Mistress." "Good. What's that?" "Your bed, Mistress." "Turn round, Jo. Put your hands on the wall in front of you. I'm not ready to have you in my bed yet, there's other things I want from you before that." Jo did as she was told, leaning forward just a little to reach her fingertips to the wall. She felt Ashley's knee gentle but forceful between her own. Ashley took her hair in the lightest of grips and turned her head slowly until she could just see herself in the dressing table mirror. Ashley fetched the hairbrush before slowly lifting Jo's skirt with her left hand and holding it clear. Jo kept looking in the mirror even without Ashley's hand in her hair. She watched the reflection: her own profile as she had never seen it before, breasts hanging out in front and backside on show behind -- displaced clothing making her look more exposed than nudity could. Ashley ran the soft brush slowly up the backs of her thighs. She turned it in her hand and patted the hard wooden back against Jo's buttocks; reversed it once again and pressed the brush itself there instead. Thousands of tiny soft bristles stippled against her. Ashley drew it back a few inches and tapped it lightly back down. "Want me to put you over my knee for this, Jo?" "Please. Do whatever ..." Further back and harder down, just enough to tingle. Just enough to make the point. "I'm sorry, Mistress. Please Mistress, do whatever you want." Ashley tossed the brush onto the bed. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and came out with a simple plastic comb. "I don't use a brush, Jo." She ran it up and down Jo's thighs: hard and oh so slightly scraping over where the brush had been soft before. Then the hand in her hair again, turning her head back towards the wall, still so gentle with her. "Please, Mistress ..." "Not now. Speak when you're spoken to, Jo. Face front and close your eyes now, I don't want you watching." A hand between her legs in the darkness, as gentle as that time before had been brutal. Fingertips tracing lightly in the copious wetness and slowly teasing their way inside her. Feeling Ashley's other hand tighten on her hair in response to the moaning she could not help. Yearning emptiness as they left her; the realisation that they were not thrust into her mouth this time because Ashley herself was quietly tasting them unseen behind her. Eventually the sound of Ashley's voice behind her again. "Go downstairs, kneel on the living room rug, and wait for me. I'll be there when I'm ready." "Yes, Mistress." *** She waited on her knees, hands hanging limp at her sides, increasingly aware of her exposed breasts and the unbearable frustration between her legs. She waited Ashley's pleasure. After an eternity she heard steps on the stair. She didn't know what to do with her eyes, at the last moment she found herself staring at the floor. She was aware of the shadow in the living room doorway. She looked up. She choked. She felt she was about to faint. Of all people in the world, it seemed Ashley understood her. Kind, cruel Ashley understood what made her tick. Gentle, vicious Ashley saw to the centre of her and understood that she would have to go to work next week and not hate herself in everything she saw there. Bottle-green skirt a little above the knee and matching blazer; black shoes and white blouse; a mid-green tie worn loose with the knot hanging an inch below the undone top button. It wasn't the real thing -- most importantly it wasn't the navy blue real thing Jo would see on Monday -- but it was far closer to that than the sleazy foolishness of a costume from a sex shop. Ashley stood in front of her, head tilted as always, hands in her blazer pockets with the thumbs hooked over the sides. Strong shoulders and that short hair up off her neck. To Jo she looked so gloriously fucking butch, the skirt simply emphasised it. So alike and so unlike she had years before: as beautiful as ever but stronger, frightening in her casual assurance. Androgynous yet sexual, like a profane angel. "Tell me." "I don't ..." "Tell me what you did the last time. Tell me exactly what you do when you grovel on this rug." "I made myself come." "Exactly." "I was on the floor for you, hand up my skirt and playing with my clit because you told me." "Thinking about me?" "Yes. Oh God, Ashley, yes I was thinking about --" "Thinking about the woman in bed with her fingers up her cunt, Jo? Or thinking about this? Kiss my feet ..." Jo bent her face to Ashley's shoes and kissed lightly as years' worth of shame and guilt welled up inside her. "... Lick my ankles. Don't kiss my skin, Miss, lap at it with your tongue. Think about what else you'll lick if I let you. Remind me what you said on the phone that time." Her mind was filled with memories of the Sunday, of being in Ashley's bed with short-trimmed hair bristly against her nose and primal taste on her tongue. Of the things she had done to earn that reward. "I want to taste your cunt, Ashley." Ashley reached down and pulled her slowly upright by her hair. Ashley knelt down facing her, told her exactly where to put her hands as she put her own around Jo. "Tell me again, Miss. Tell poor little Ashley what you are." "I'm a fucking dirty perv' bitch." "You're my fucking dirty perv' bitch ..." Ashley's strong back under her left hand. Downy bristle soft to her touch at the base of Ashley's skull making her think of that hairbrush and how she wanted to feel it stinging her body. The insistent hardness of Ashley's nipples pushing against her own soft breasts through the blouse. Ashley's hand reaching selfishly up her skirt to take whatever it wanted from her. Ashley's other arm round her shoulders making her feel protected. "... because you'll do whatever I tell you, won't you Miss?" Ashley's teeth nipping her ear until the pain centred her. "Anything Ashley, whatever you say." She felt tears on her face, felt the guilt leaving her with them. She buried herself into the shoulder of a strong and sexual woman, and floated on the memory of masturbating desperately on this floor as she had imagined Ash's leather jacket against her skin. She let herself go; abandoned herself in complete surrender to the grown adult who possessed her. "Anything at all, my cheap fuck-slut. We do what I say, not what you want. This isn't your fantasy. It's mine. Tell me again." "I'm your fucking dirty perv' bitch, Ashley." "Why, Jo? What makes you that?" "Because I like you pissing on me. Because I'll frig myself whenever you say. Because I'll do anything for you." And, she finally realised, only for that. Because she never had, and never could have, done anything wrong to that girl. That wasn't what Jo needed in the slightest. Ashley got up and slowly removed her skirt. She stood in front of Jo, teasing hints of white knickers just visible under her blouse, hands in her pockets once again. She ran her eyes slowly over Jo's body, lingering on her bared breasts and exposed neck. Then she sat on the edge of Jo's armchair, pulled up her blouse just enough and opened her legs just enough. "Crawl to me, bitch. Kiss my knickers like the slut you are." Jo felt damp thick cotton on her lips; wallowed in the total degradation of sucking the faint echo of Ashley's taste through it. When she was told to, she lapped her tongue up the resisting material and felt utterly cheapened by Ashley's muted response. Ashley pushed her face down, pushed her mouth away. She felt Ashley's mound grinding against her forehead. She knelt between the security of Ashley's thighs as Ashley humped her face and breathlessly told her how she was going to beat all those sick nasty thoughts of little girls out of Miss' mind. She let everything go in the simple satisfaction of being the entirely passive means of Ashley's pleasure. *** Ashley had spent the morning teasing them both to the limits of their endurance. She had taken them slowly round the downstairs rooms and found novel ways to cause Jo a little pain or a little degradation. In the end she had loosened her tie just enough more to take it off, then dropped it over Jo's head and used it as a leash to lead her upstairs to the bedroom. Jo stood in the doorway as she was told whilst Ashley turned her back to strip off and climb into bed. While Jo had been waiting downstairs, Ashley must have pulled away most of the covers and left them bundled on the floor. Now she was sitting up with the one remaining sheet pulled demurely over her breasts. "Your turn. Go and stand just there, where I can see you properly and you can see yourself properly in the mirror. Take off the blouse and look at yourself." Jo undid the lowest button that had somehow stayed fastened all morning and shrugged it off her shoulders. She didn't particularly like what she saw, any more than she ever had. Feeling Ashley watching made it feel both better and worse, beyond question it made her look at her body as more sexual than she usually did. She couldn't help staring at the angry redness of her nipples, the still sore state that Ashley's teeth had left them in. "Like what you see?" "Not really, Mistress." "Take off your skirt ..." She pulled it down and looked at the reflection of what five hours of being Ashley's sex toy had done to her. She was so obvious. Her thighs were shining back at her. "... your bum's very red. Does it hurt?" "Stings a little, Mistress." "If I tell you to turn round, bend over and look between your legs so you can see your arse in the mirror ... Would you do that for me, Jo?" "I'd rather not, Mistress." "That's alright, Jo, you don't have to. Touch your clit for me instead." "No. Please ..." "Yes slut, do what I tell you to. I gave you another choice and you didn't want it, so you can do that ..." For some reason it was very nearly too much. But she did it, in the end she would do whatever Ashley wanted, because in the end she knew Ashley would never quite go too far for her to bear. She stroked her index finger against it and couldn't suppress the groan as soon as she did. "... I can't make you see it for yourself, Jo, but as long as you're my slut you will be sexy for me. You will feel sexy for me. I won't accept anything less than that. Now come into my bed, because I'm going to enjoy you. I'm going to feel up your sexy bum and stroke your sexy back. I'm going to enjoy your sexy legs wrapped round mine. I'm going to pull you back by your pretty long hair and bite your sexy neck. I'm going to fuck you, because you're too sexy for me not to. Get in your Mistress' bed, Jo." Jo got under the sheet, and to her astonishment Ashley pulled her on top of herself. She had, in that lazy way you do, always assumed that the submissive position was underneath. But she was exactly where her Mistress wanted her: straddling Ashley's thigh with her hip against the heat of Ashley's cunt; slipping and sliding on each other's flowing juices as Ashley's hand grabbed her tender bum and moved her body for the pleasure of them both. Ashley told her to push herself up on her arms, and Ashley's thick and needy voice told her how fucking good her gorgeous fucking tits looked swinging like that when they fucked each other like this. Ashley's leg between hers, and Ashley's hands on her back, and the constant sound of Ashley's astonishingly filthy voice, carried her to the brink of absolute ... "Stop ..." Perched motionless, hanging desperately at the edge of release with Ash's hand in her hair. "... Want to come now?" "Oh God, please." "No. Don't move. You stay quite still and don't do anything unless I tell you. If I do tell you, do it without any argument. Do you understand me, Jo? Call me your Mistress." "Yes, my Mistress, I understand you." "Hands up and grasp the headboard, tight as you can. Stretch them as far as you can reach." She was perched over Ashley's face, breasts hanging and groin thrust down in desperate need. She watched Ashley watching her, followed the eyes running over her upper body in slow concentration. She listened to Ash's cold voice and let it slow her own breathing. "I want to look at your sexy arms. You work out, Jo?" "I swim a bit, my Mistress." Ashley gripped her wrists; ran nails along her biceps; gasped at the feel of her muscles. Ashley made her feel more desirable than she could ever remember. "They're perfect. Not too soft, not too butch; just enough to look perfect like this. They're tied there, Jo, you cannot move them at all. I could do it for real, but I shouldn't need to, I just need to tell and you do. Keep them stretched out above my face looking sexy for me, whatever happens. Until I tell you not to." "Yes, my Mistress." Ashley's fingers brushed gently across her face. Hand in her hair once more, stroking. "Spread your legs for me. Wide as you can; open that cunt right out for Mistress." Ashley pulled her hair. Her back arched. All her weight seemed to be thrown onto her groin, driving it down onto Ashley. Ashley pushed her finger into Jo's mouth. Jo sucked on it, as if she could swallow it whole. Ashley's thigh flexed under her open labia, tensing and relaxing in time to the finger thrusting in her mouth. The finger she was desperately moaning around. "Do not move, bitch. You move now and I'll slap you until you weep. I'll tie your hands behind your back and your legs apart and I'll leave you alone in your spare room all weekend without coming. Nothing to look forward to except me coming in every few hours to use your tongue as a fuck toy and walk out again without speaking to you. Do not move unless I tell you to." Abandonment to sensation: nothing in the world any more except Ashley's control and Ashley's cheap wet fuck-slut. No pretence or responsibility. No politeness. No nice. Nothing but the wildest sexual rush she had ever known. She was bobbing her head frantically up and down on Ashley's hand, she knew she was drooling round it and she didn't care. She felt a drop fall from her lip and knew it must fall on Ashley. Sweat and other juices mixing between them. "You know, bitch. You're cheap and dirty and nasty, you know exactly why I'm doing this. Talk to me. Beg for it." Ash's hand left her mouth, she heard herself raving like the frantic slut she knew herself to be. "Stick it in my arse. Ashley, my Mistress, shove it up my arse." "Why?" "Because I want it there when I come. I want to get off with your wet finger up my arse so you can feel the way you make me throb and cramp. Please, Mistress. Please!" Ashley thrust home, no gentle tease or preparation but simple forceful spit-lubricated fucking. "Go for it, Jo. Come on me, girl. Come for me ..." Legs driving her against Ashley's sodden skin; arms dragging and pushing at the headboard to work herself there, knowing the muscles were flexing in front of Ashley's face, knowing the sight would get her off. Listening to Ashley's voice all around her. "... Every time, my sex object. I'm gonna do it every time I let you come; if you need to come I'm going to make you beg for that first. Next time I'm gonna make you crawl -- round and round your floor for me until I get bored and stick something in your arse instead. And then I'm going to make you frig yourself on hands and knees while I do it. I'm going to ..." "Oh Christ, please, Ash. Kiss my tits when I come!" Soft mouth on hard nipples, sucking and licking as it erupted inside her and she convulsed around Ash's suddenly still finger. At the exact perfect moment Ash's hand let go of her hair and she felt the arm gently round her shoulder as she collapsed onto the pillow babbling Ash's name. The quietest, gentlest 'shhhhh' against her sweating face. And she felt more content than she had ever known.