Part 2
The white Nissan pulls up to the curb. I glance at the clock. Right on time. Ginny steps through the door.
"Good morning, Ginny."
"Hey."
That's the extent of our conversation. I've tried to get her to talk, but it became quickly apparent she wasn't a talker. Usually I have the opposite problem with my female clients. Can't get them to shut up. Oh well. This is her sixth session and the tan lines are starting to show so she's wearing a long sleeve blouse. It's one of those generic Oxfords. Might be her boyfriend's shirt. Hard to tell.
She follows me down the hall and into the room. I take her bag and pull out coils of rope, blue rope as always and enough to do the job and then some. Ginny turns her back and strips. She does it slowly, deliberately as if she's contemplating each button, each snap. Finally she turns.
As always, her eyes are closed. She places her hands behind her neck, opens her legs a bit. I don't ask her if she'd exfoliated. I asked her on her second visit and she said she'd forgotten. Yeah, right. There's something going on here. Being a dominatrix has given me some insight into the female subbie's mind. It's almost as if I have to read their minds in order to provide an appropriate experience. Is she into humiliation? Is she into pain? Does she need to be beaten into submission or will a strong glance drive her to her knees? I have the feeling Ginny is in the latter group. Or not.
I slip on the loofa mitt, drizzle lotion on it, take her arm, and work the scrubby from her shoulder to her hand. I slip off the mitt and towel her arm. She places her hand behind her head and extends the other. I do her other arm and her face. I work my down to her tits. She has wonderful tits. At first I thought they were fake being so perfectly round, but, no, they're real. They're big enough to droop just a bit. They have a nice heft to them. When she's not here I can close my eyes and feel them in my hands.
I work my way down her legs and up her legs ... and between her legs. I step behind her and do her shoulders and back, do her butt cheeks, between her cheeks. And she does nothing, says nothing as my hands explore her in the most intimate way.
I swap the exfoliant for moisturizer and repeat the process. I take my time, giving her what amounts to a standing massage. Through it all she stands passively, quietly. The only reaction I get is when my finger finds the brown rosette of her anus. She flinches a bit. I don't know whether it's in anticipation of being probed or revulsion. I don't probe her. I'd like to. I've become more intimate with her each session, but that might be pushing it. It's enough to slide my fingers between her pussy lips. She's wet - very wet. Whether it's the oil or her own juices I'm not sure. Probably a bit of both. Like I said, I'm having trouble reading her. I'm tempted to go into full-fledged Domme mode just to see what happens, but I'd hate to scare her off. It's enough to play with her a few times a week. But maybe, just maybe, during her last session I'll dress the part, lock a collar to her neck, and drag her to her knees.
I tie the rope harness on her, settle a knot up against her clit, wrap the rope around her body, her arms, down her legs. It's easier this time. The rope is leaving tan lines and I don't have to guess as much. I finish the rope harness, work my way down her legs. She's bound neck to ankles, helpless. I slip the goggles over her head ...
And I kiss her.
Why? I haven't a clue. Other than my bff, I have never kissed a girl. Kissing isn't allowed in my scenes. Well, I don't do any kissing. If I have more than one sub, well, yeah, there'll be some kissing and things of a more, er, intimate nature. I like forcing straight women into a girl-girl scene.
But I kiss Ginny. It's a borderline chaste kiss with just a bit of tongue. I hold her face, keep my lips on hers until she responds. It takes a couple of seconds, but she does. And her lips are as soft and kissable as her tits are soft and squeezable. And I do a bit of that, too. And then my intuition kicks in.
She wants this and more. But she has a boyfriend who tops her. Or does she? Is she straight? Is she bi? Is she gay? Whatever it is, I know I could take it to a whole new level, but I don't. She's perfectly passive, but very eager and in my scenes eagerness is a punishable offense. Desperation is fine, encouraged even. Begging is good, too. But eagerness? It's like that old joke: A masochist says, "Beat me. Beat me." The sadist says, "No."
I ease her down onto the tanning bed, lift her legs, and settle her in. I set the dial and head down the hall.
I keep an assortment of toys and bondage gear in bag in the file draw. I swap fresh batteries into the vibrator and fasten it to Ginny's crotch rope with a bit of thin cord. I dial it in until she starts to squirm, makes a little gasping noise, and back it off a bit. I also dial the bulbs down a notch. That'll extend her time in the bed, give her more quality time with her new-found friend. Quality time being relative, of course. I want her to enjoy her visit, but not that much.
Later I turn off the vibe, remove it, return it to the closet. Back in the room I untie her and it's just like the past times. She neither moves nor speaks until she's dressed again. I'm tempted to ask how she liked it, but I bite my tongue. We coil the ropes in silence and I lead her to the front room.
"See you Friday?"
She gives me a shy smile.
"Yeah. Friday. Same time?"
"Sure."
Doris show up right on time. On time being almost twenty minutes late. But that's Doris. I'm anal about punctuality, but I let it pass. I couldn't run this place without her. She handles the busy shifts, nights and weekends, has the gift of gab, which I lack, and she keeps the place meticulously clean.
I climb into the car, head out. I'm anxious to get home. I have to talk to Ted about this business with Ginny, her total passivity, my urge to go into Domme mode. The women I top are either eager or obstinate. Ginny? Ginny's something entirely different. It sets me off. It really does.
His car is in the driveway. I'm glad of that. He's been gone off and on most of the last three weeks. Generally he works from home, but some clients require personal, quality time.
He's in the spare room, the one he uses as his office. I step through the door and immediately sense the vibe. Even before he turns, even before I see the look in his eyes, even before he speaks I'm half way to my knees.
"Take a shower, bring your things."
I halt my descent.
"Yes, Sir. Pantyhose?"
"Mm."
He turns back to the computer. I lose clothes as I head into the bedroom. In the bathroom I remove my makeup, pull on the shower cap, and step into the shower. I'm quick about it. If most men get annoyed waiting for their mates, Ted's the alpha male. I put on a bit of mascara and lip gloss, though. The pantyhose are nothing special, just your basic taupe hose. The thong is black. I settle the strap between my ass cheeks and it disappears. I pull on the hose and step into a pair of black pumps. I gather my "things" and head back to the the office.
This is one of Ted's favorites. I don't know why. It's not particularly kinky, or maybe it is. I guess anything can become a fetish of sorts. Ted likes spandex, likes body suits, cat suits, one-piece bathing suits, and, yes, pantyhose.
It started almost four years ago, before we were married, when we were at the point of having sex, having sleepovers, but not living together. I spent most weekends with him. If we had a date during the week we'd end up at my place because I lived in the city. I had done the shopping (Ted cooks, but hates to shop.) and I was in his kitchen putting things away. After approving my selections he left the room. He came back with a ball gag and handcuffs. We hadn't gone very far down that kinky path, just the cuffs and gag and a bit of rope, but it was definitely a path we were meant to travel.
The gag was your basic ball gag, a yellow rubber ball with a strong elastic strap. He pushed the ball into my mouth, stretched the strap over my head.
"Strip"
I hesitated. Yes, I'd been naked with him, but standing here, like this, in the kitchen? I stripped. I pulled the soft peach sweater over my head, reached behind and undid my bra. I unzipped the black miniskirt and stepped out of it. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my pantyhose.
"No. Leave them."
He held up the cuffs and I presented my wrists.
"Okay, finish what you were doing."
And I did, and it felt very strange, kind of Twilight Zone strange to be almost naked, but not quite, cuffed and gagged, being domestic, shelving groceries.
I spent the rest of the evening that way, wearing only a thong under my pantyhose. Wearing my black, high heel ankle booties. He removed the gag to let me eat, but replaced it after I'd brushed my teeth. I fetched him drinks and craved one myself because my heart was racing. This was the first time he'd actually dominated me and I found it both exciting, a bit scary, and confusing. How was I supposed to act? Turns out that last was pretty much a given. I sat with him on the couch. I didn't speak. I did his bidding ... right down to the oily handjob.
I place the things on the desk, present my wrists. Ted locks the wide, leather cuffs, wraps the matching collar around my neck and locks it also. The gag is another ball gag. This one has a chin strap. I bite down on the ball and he buckles it. Last comes the nipple loops - two loops of cord connected by a chain. Ted made this. We had one with a light, aluminum chain, but Ted made this one out of a chrome steel leash. It has a bit of heft to it and it tugs at my nipples when I move.
I spend the next sixty hours like this.
Except for meals and the obligatory blow jobs, the gag stays in, the cuffs and collar stay on, and the corded loops provide a constant stimulation that leaves me in a near frantic state of desire. But that's why they call it bondage and discipline.
o0o
I'm a wreck.
I spent the weekend, the whole weekend - Friday evening to Monday morning - collared, cuffed, and gagged. The double layer of thong and pantyhose created an insulating layer over my pussy, which drove me crazy. That's Ted's thing. Most people in the scene have their subbies keep their pussies uncovered, available. Ted's the opposite. Well, not always. There are times I go, what's the word, commando? But more often than not my pussy is well covered and then some. In fact he has a thing for foundation garments. I have a variety of girdles even though I don't need one. He also likes me to wear panties under a pair of tights under a leotard under my tightest jeans. Having my pussy exposed can be a bit distracting. Having layer upon layer over it is maddening. Seriously.
Nine o'clock. Ginny steps though the door. Right on time.
"Morning, Ginny."
"Hey."
I try to read her. Last session, after I'd tied her up, I attached a vibrator to the crotch rope. I left her like that for about an hour. When I removed it, and the ropes, she didn't say a word. Just got dressed, coiled the ropes, and left.
I try to read her, but I can't.
In the room, Ginny turns and strips, slowly as usual. I fidget as I uncoil the ropes. When she turns to me her eyes are closed. She stands with her hands behind her neck, legs slightly parted. I slip my hand into the loofa mitt and scrub her down, head to toes, front and back, and all the places in between. I repeat the process with the lotion. I'm working quickly. I'm antsy, nervous, and I don't know why. But I do spend some time between Ginny's legs. I resist the urge to probe her ass, but I work my fingers between her pussy lips until she starts to squirm. Well, not squirm actually, but her face belies the effect. She presses her lips together and frowns a bit. Yet, all the while, she stands there, eyes closed, hands behind her neck. I grab some rope.
I try to control myself as I tie her, slow myself down. There's something about these sessions that doesn't compute and it has nothing to do with tan lines. But the lines are fairly distinct by now and it's easy to position the ropes and knots accurately. A few more sessions and she'll be dark enough that the lines will really pop.
I tie the knots at her throat, between her tits, down on her belly, and take particular care to position the knot between her pussy lips, up against her clit. She ooches around a bit as I settle it into place.
I spread her ass cheeks, enjoying the perfect combination of soft and firm. God, I would love to spank that ass. I flash on the image of her in a nice, tight corset that emphasizes her soft curves, strapped down on the spanking horse, her boyfriend's cock in her mouth, me behind spanking her. What would I use? A strap? A cane? A paddle? A whip? A quirt. Definitely a quirt. Heavy enough to make her cheeks jiggle, but not as painful as a cane.
I blink myself back to reality.
I proceed up her back, then down and around her arms and chest, above and below her tits. I take extra care position the ropes around her tits. I don't need to. I like to. Finally, once the ropes are perfectly positioned and her tits are bulging nicely I run the ends across her belly and tie the knots.
I reach for another coil and stop.
Stop.
I hook a finger through the rope, force Ginny, slowly to her knees. I raise my skirt.
I'm not wearing panties. This is the Yin to the crotch-covered Yang. Ted knows having my my pussy covered makes me crazy, so he doesn't allow me to wear panties afterward - and I am forbidden to touch myself.
I grab a handful of Ginny's hair, pull her forward, press her lips to mine.
For a long moment she does nothing.
"Lick me."
She licks. Okay, so I can't diddle myself, but I'm not, well not technically. And although I'm supposed to get Ted's permission for a scene, this isn't a scene, again, not technically. And at the moment I really don't care.
I've never been eaten by a girl, don't know how it's supposed to feel, but this feels wonderful. Some small part of my brain registers the idea that it's a lot like sucking cock - lips, tongue, a hint of teeth now and then. Slurp, nibble, suck, lick. And like sucking cock, I feel like I'm being played, except I'm usually the player, not the playee. And, as I said, I really don't care. Sixty hours of frustration burst out of me in orgasm after orgasm. How many? I'm not counting, but then I see stars and my head feels light and I know I'm about to faint, so I pull her head away. Usually I'm satisfied with three or four orgasms, faint after a half dozen or seven. Yet now I've had my fill and more and I'm still hungry. But I keep Ginny's mouth off my pussy.
I looks down at her, head tilted back, eyes closed, face glistening from nose to chin with a few dribbles on her tits. I take a moment to compose myself.
I pull Ginny to her feet, grab a towel and wipe her face, wipe my pussy. I kiss her. Kiss her again. Again. She responds instantly and we play with each other's tongues and I can taste myself in her mouth. I've tasted myself after I've finger myself, Ted likes to watch me do that, but it was never like this. I like it. I flash on the idea of forcing my subbies to eat me, the straight ones only, then tasting myself on their lips.
But now that the edge has been taken off, I'm feeling more clear-headed, back to business. I tie her legs from her hips down to her ankles, ease her back onto the tanning bed, set the controls. Once again I make the trip down the hall. Once again I return with a vibrator. Once again I tie it to the rope buried in her crotch. But this time when I find that resonant point, the setting that makes her squirm, I leave the dial where it is. Ginny is going to have a session that will be a bit more intense. Oh yeah.
I go back down the hall, flip the sign back to OPEN. I crack open a bottle of Diet Coke, drink half of it off, and refill it with vodka. Hey. It's five o'clock somewhere. Back in the room I settle in a chair, sip my drink, watch Ginny squirm. There's a sign on the desk out front that says "ring for service." I hope nobody rings.
You can also leave feedback & comments for this story on the Plaza Forum
08.04.13
story continues in Tan Lines 3
o0o