This recent experience was, well, a bit Gothic really. Robert (my brother-in-law and lover) had often had his friend from work, Lindsey, around. When he can't get his dirty hands on me, he pumps her. I try not to be jealous — I know it's a straight forward sex-buddy relationship, they enjoy a giggle and a kinky fuck. But if there weren't such big gaps in between me "seeing" him, I wouldn't allow it.
A couple years back, when I first met her, we did have several pretty hot three and four way sessions. But when she became a project manager (on top of being a working mum) her long working hours made it really hard to get it together.
But Lindsey's always been very nice to me. She and Robert both helped a lot with my dissertation, with artwork and proofing. We had some hard working late night sessions. I knew Robert tried very hard to turn these into some new threesomes. But long hours, obtuse theory, and that mistake you always find after you've pressed the print button are not a seductive brew.
So, despite half a dozen sexual encounters, and popping round off and on for four-five years I couldn't really say I knew Lindsey well. Not that I don't like her. She has an attractive naughty impish quality. 5' 2", slim, with a much too big 34D chest for her slender frame. Her round face, framed by jet black straight hair and wireframe glasses, is usually smiling.
Anyhow, when she asked me to help with one of her assignments, I felt slightly obliged. But I was pretty happy as I ding-donged her front door. A distant voice beckoned me in and guided me into the living room.
Lindsey was sat on the sofa with her two boys: three and eighteen months. She was wearing some black ski pants. Nothing else, just black ski pants, and I suppose you could say she was wearing two small boys. Their rhythmically bobbing heads obscured her heavy breasts, as they greedily suckled from their mother. They ignored me as I entered and Lindsey just smiled sweetly. I was a bit surprised. I mean, I'd enjoyed breast feeding too - I loved the bonding intimacy, I loved my hubby begging to suckle from my milky nipples, and I especially loved jumping a full bra size. But it was always a very private pleasure.
"Let me get rid of these."
She reappeared minus the kids and wearing a black cotton top, under which her unrestrained heavy boobs bounced and banged around freely. She often wore black — it's a sliming colour, helping to mask the curves of her boobs: she generally preferred people to talk to her face, not to her tits; but there's only so much black can do.
"Shall we start, or would you like a drink first." Her comment snapped by attention back to the now, instead of watching her nipples and wondering whether they were going to weep, as mine used to do.
"Ummm, a drink, er ... yes that would be nice, but we'd better press on." I thought modeling would be time consuming, and I had to pick my little boy up from school at four. Lindsey pointed me to the studio (her garage converted) and fixed some tall gins.
I'd only modeled once before, for my art teacher in sixth form. I like to think I'm attractive, pretty even, but certainly not really modeling material (and besides, I have a brain). But for Lindsey's photography course I, apparently, would be just right. It would all be moody black and white photos, buttocks shown at strange angles, that sort of thing — not your porno close zoom "wet spilt beaver" [could I just say, even as a kinky woman, what an extremely unpleasant term that is].
There was nothing much in the studio. No screens, just some lights, a white umbrella, and other photographic brick-a-brack. Waiting for Lindsey, I wondered what to do, and thought, "oh well, better get on with it." In the naked room, I rather self-consciously pulled off my denim skirt, panties, tee-shirt and bra. Laid them neatly on a chair, and stood naked, hands clasped in front of my small fluffy blonde-haired bush, and waited. It was chill. I could feel my skin goosebump. Or perhaps the realisation that I was about to be intimately photographed struck me.
Lindsey bounded in with two tall iced gin and tonics, her chest playfully wobbling. "Hope you like them" she chirped. I blushed from head to foot, and as a fair-skinned blonde, I blush big. Suddenly, I realised she was taking about the drinks, not her tits. What an idiot. I'm not used to being caught checking out other women.
She handed me a drink. As we sipped, I felt very self-conscious that she was looking me over. My nipples grew into tall hard peaks. Lindsey started to explain that her assignment was called "anxious", and that fragile beauty of my pale complexion would be perfect to capture that mood (ahhh, what a nice thing to say). So I was not to worry if I didn't understand everything that happened, everything that she'd ask me to do, even if it was a bit odd. Just let any "anxiousness" appear, but not be worried.
I must admit, a small alarm rang in my head: don't worry, just let yourself be anxious, humm...
Lindsey led me to the centre of the studio and sat me on an old wooden chair. The seat of the chair was cold and hard against my naked bottom. She took my hands and pulled them behind the chair. I looked down at my bosom, which sat perkily on my chest with my arms pulled back, reddened nipples stiffened even further in the dark cool air of the studio. Suddenly I realised that Lindsey had just tied my wrists together.
"What are you doing?" I asked with some alarm.
"Just getting you ready" she replied with sweet briskness, while wrapping a blind-fold across my eyes.
I twisted my face to try and stop the blind-fold. "Lindsey! Stop this!" I demanded with more fear than firmness. I shot up to my feet, but felt a firm hand on my chest push me down hard. It was impossible to keep balance without knowing the direction you were being pushed from.
"L I N D S E Y for fuck sake!!!" I cried out loud. Even to myself I sounded panicked.
"Schhhh!" Lindsey hissed calmly.
I felt the hot light of a flash and the whirr of an electric motor. And then again.
"This isn't 'anxious'" FLASH "it's just a shitty cheap stunt" I accused, hoping I was facing the right way. FLASH.
A silence followed. I felt very naked. I listened with all my might to the silence. I thought I heard a ruffle noise. I'm sure I heard a swallow. I fruitlessly fiddled with my bindings and debated whether to stand (but realised I didn't know which way I was facing).
"Lind - sey -?" I said slowly, whimpishly.
"Ummmm" came a reply so close it made me start. FLASH. The fucking bitch. Even through the blind-fold the flash hurt my eyes. I spat at the general direction of the voice and shouted "You fucking little BITCH."
"Let ME GOOO!" I wailed.
SMACK. The slap to my cheek nearly knocked me off the chair. My cheek burnt red, and my eyes brimmed with tears. But I hoped my spit had found a good mark.
Suddenly I had the weight of her on my thighs as she sat on my lap, facing me. (Well I assumed it was her). She felt warm against my chilled legs. I could feel the skin of her thighs and buttocks. I realised that she was naked, or at least bottom-less. I realised that the slight tickle on my inner thighs was her pubic hair. I felt intense. I didn't know if she was going to hit me again, or spit at me back, or hurt me in some other way. That thought made my breasts feel terribly exposed and vulnerable. My throat went dry. I really did feel fucking anxious.
FLASH (But from a different position. I wondered if Lindsey had a remote. Or perhaps someone else was in the room, enjoying me squirm.)
"Robert, are you there?" I quizzed ... no reply. I reckoned this was just the sort of thing the two of them would dream up.
A lip brushed my lips. I turned my head in rejection. A hand turned it firmly back, and held it there. I pursed my lips thin to reject the lips I expected to be forced on me. But there were none. Instead, the body (Lindsey?) on my lap, half lifted herself off and stood, my legs straddled by hers. For a long moment there was nothing.
But then, in the gentlest suddenness, there was wetness round my mouth. My chin, nose, and lips were drizzled with tiny specks of moisture. It was the first slightly nice thing in several minutes, partially ruined by another FLASH.
I felt a hand on my forehead, tilting my head back, my face up. Another squirt of warm misty rain softly showers my face. In my mind, a very big penny starts to drop. It must be Lindsey, standing over me, squeezing her large breasts, expressing her milk into my face!
I don't know if my face betrayed my sudden understanding, but something tickled my lips: a nipple?
The 'nipple?' pushed against my lips a second time, more definitely, more confidently, more nipple-like. Choices: bite, suck or ignore. I was confused. I couldn't really understand what it meant. Was it a peace offering? Had a point about who was in control been made, and now some tenderness? Would I be punished if I rejected the offering? Was it a teasing test, to see if I would bite, to see if I had any fight left in me?
As my brain hurt with complex computations, a soft hand against the back of my head and drew it forward, as the nipple was poked between my lips, and my mouth flooded with hot watery milkyness. My mouth reacted instinctively, without thought, as my lips closed around the proud nipple, my tongue sliding beneath it, to press it strongly against the roof of my mouth.
It was so strange. I suckled like a hungry baby, using the strength of a grown woman to drain the breast of it's beautiful milk, my face pressed hard against the taught skin of Lindsey's large tit. "Oooooo, softly" whispered Lindsey's voice, as I felt a soft kiss be planted on the top of my head. I moderated my greed as she cooed above me, running her hand through me hair. "You've always been so greedy" she whispered above my head, (rather cryptically I thought).
As I suckled I relaxed. Softly, slowly, Lindsey said "arrgh ..." My ears, compensating for my lack of sight, knew instantly what the softly hissed sound was. Just below my small breasts, a hot needle of liquid struck my body, and fanned out across my middle and down through my lap. The hotness of body-heat never ceased to surprise me, and in the cold of Lindsey's garage, the heat of her piss flowing down my body was just wonderful.
She stood more upright, withdrawing her nipple from my milky lips despite my craning neck, to pee lightly across the tops of my tits. The sudden flow of hot wee across my cold hard nipples was extraordinary, making gasp with the shock of heat, and then melt with the pleasure of warmth over my titties.
I could feel Lindsey trying to reach up higher, and so lowered by head to feel a short squirt of pee splash my chin. And straining lower still, to receive another short squirt across my lips and into my mouth. I savoured the mixture of juices: pee, breast milk, saliva.
Lindsey whispered, "when you are good I will reward you, and you must thank me, and when you are bad I will punish you, and you MUST thank me for that too. Do you understand?"
I said yes. Well I didn't seem to have much choice. I was a bit put out that Lindsey had tricked me into her little sub-dom game, but at least I understood what was going on.
There was a long pause and I wondered what was going to happen next. Suddenly I realised I hadn't said thank you for the feeding. I cleared by throat, "thank you" I said with a thin layer of irony in my voice.
The camera flashed again, and again, and yet again. It nearly made me dizzy.
"Now that we understand," Lindsey seemed to be saying to everyone, "we can begin. Emily, stand."
Having no better plan, I stood, shakily. Now cold pee dribbling down my body and running down my legs, tickling with thin cold fingers as it went. A hand took my bound arms and frog marched me a few paces. I felt my thigh touch a cool surface. "Lay face down" was the order. Half roughly pushed, I slid easily on my wet tummy across a cold flat leather clad bench. Well, I pictured it as a bench. The now wet cold leather goosebumped my flesh again. I was dragged to the head of the bench. My titties complained at been dragged across the cold surface, and I was conscious of the fluff of my pubic bush against the leather.
Silence descend again, except for the soft pant of some heavy breathing, which turned out to be me. I struggled to control myself, to calm myself down. In my ear came a soft slow whisper.
"I hate you" the barely audible voice announced. I was shocked by the soft vehemence. I was shocked by it blank directness. And I was shocked because it was a female voice, but not Lindsey's. I turned to look, forgetting my blindfold. The words were repeated, as soft as kiss, as spiteful as a dagger.
Suddenly there was a load crack in the air above me and my buttocks steered with pain, "Ouch!!!" I cried involuntarily. "Bitch" the soft voice hissed at me. A streak of pain fired across my bare backside a second time. "Jeeezus" I cried. "You're hurting me! Please stop it!"
"You fucking slag, I hate you so much" the soft voice raised in pitch, "go on, hurt her more". The whip slashed pain across my back. I couldn't help crying in pain. The more so because I suddenly recognised the voice. "Lynn!!!!" I wailed, "Lynn, why ..." I struggle to find the words.
"why are you ..."
A fourth smack burnt into the flesh of my buttocks again. I cried out in pain. Tears began tumbling down my cheeks. My back and bum felt like a hot roadmap of pain, but my heart was far more wounded. Lynn, my beautiful little Lynn. The little darling who I used to baby-sit as a teenager. Who had grown into a lovely sweet natured young adult, who despite a decade age-gap, I thought was my friend. Here she was, whispering hate words and enjoying my pain.
My protests sounded weak even to my ears. "But what have I done?"
"Oh what has perfect Emily done!" mocked Lynn. "I thought you were a Goddess. I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world. I loved you. But you treated me like shit. Like some doll to play with and then discard whenever you fancied."
"No I didn't" I protested, "I used to look after you"
"Look after me!" said Lynn with hollow laugh.
"When I was a little girl, I woke up one night. I could hear shouting and crying. It frightened me. I got up to go down stairs, to be with you, to be with my babysitter. But when I got to the top of the stairs I saw you laying on the floor. I saw some boy, I didn't know who he was, laying on top of you. I realised you were making the noise. I thought he was attacking you. But then I saw your legs wrapped round him. I heard you beg him to do it harder. I realised you wanted it, whatever "it" was. You slut, I was only 10, you scared the shit out of me."
I screamed in pain as the whip burnt deeper into the flesh of my buttocks.
"And when I was 14, you abused me. You cuddled up to me, drunk, at a family party. You put your hand up my skirt and frigged me. Then you got my knickers down all together, and licked me off. I was just 14. I didn't know anything. Aside from masturbating, your tongue gave me the first orgasm of my life. It was fantastic. But afterwards, no clumsy teenage boy could match that. You confused the shit out of me for years. I couldn't work out if I was gay or straight or bi. And it's your fucking fault. Bitch"
The whip slapped the air and stung the back of my thighs.
"And when I was 15, and totally in love with you — crying myself the sleep most nights with the pain of desire. Then my stupid big brother boasts to me that he's 'had' you. It broke my heart. Who didn't you fuck, you whore!" I could tell that tears were raining down Lynn's face as she shouted her bitter words of pain, just as tears of pain fell from my eyes.
Behind my head fingers fumbled with my blindfold. It dropped from my face. Laying on my tummy, my stinging bare arse feeling very vulnerable, I turned back to see my assailant, but in the semi-gloom I could see no one. In front of me, looking red eyed and crumbed, stood little Lynn. Her fair hair a mess, with big tears slowly rolling down past her cute little turned up nose. Dressed modestly in a white cotton blouse and blue jeans. She slowly reached out a hand and brush a tear off my cheek. "I still love you" she mouthed, without speaking.
Behind her, Lindsey appeared, whip in hand. I could see the dark triangle of her bush at the top of her pale bare legs pop into view, as her black tee-shirt swayed with her soft movements. In one single swipe Lindsey discarded the tee-shirt over her head. Her heavy breasts rising and plopping down with the swing of her arms. Now naked, she folded Lynn into her arms, and with a hand on the back of Lynn's head, guided her to a large proud nipple.
Lynn's lips engulfed Lindsey's nipple, and started to suckle greedily as I had done before. Lindsey squeezed her own breast to express her milk faster into Lynn's hungry mouth. I watched in mild jealousy as dribbles of milk dropped down Lynn's chin. Just as with any upset child, the feeding had a very claming effect on Lynn.
Lindsey looked at me, with obvious pride in her eyes as she mothered her lover, and said flatly. "She's mine now. You're not good enough for her." So that's what all this has been about. It wasn't sub-dom game at all, but a declaration of ownership, and a righting of old wrongs.
"I'm sorry Lynn ... I didn't realise." I said a bit pathetically.
"Let her go" Lynn instructed quietly to Lindsey.
"Sure?"
"Yes" Lynn whispered.
Lindsey stepped up to my sore body, and realised my arms, before helping me to my feet.
Lindsey then lay on the bench, on her back, her legs pulled back to offer up her cunt. "Whip me Emily".
"What?" I stammered.
"I want you to whip me, hurt me"
"No! Why?" I said confused.
"Because I enjoyed hurting you, and if you don't punish me for that, it will always be between us, and we can never be friends again." The thought of being Lindsey's friend again hadn't exactly crossed my mind at this point.
Tricky, I thought. I could sort of see what see was driving out. A clearing of the air. And God knows, the bitch had lashed me hard. Even as I stood naked in the garage-come-photo studio my back and buttocks snaked with red raw rivers of stinging pain.
I picked up the whip. It's latticed grip felt good in my hand. I sloshed the whip around a bit, to feel how it would flick. I stood at the end of the bench, looking up along Lindsey's prone body. Her hands were wrapped round her buttocks, fingertips pulling her pussy lips open to expose the pink slit of her pussy to the whip. Her head was flat on the bench, eyes to the ceiling, waiting for the first blow. It was an impressive act of submission, indeed, an impressive offer of contrition.
I turned to look at Lynn, to see what I should do, but her blank face was no help. There was neither glee at the desire for a sadistic act, nor horror that her lovers were inflicting pain on each other.
"Your back must sting. I'll get some cream." She turned and stepped outside into the house.
I looked back at Lindsey, still impassively laying on her back, her labia pulled apart, ready for the whip. I raised my arm. It trembled. I stared at the pink gusset of Lindsey's pussy, and snapped the whip down on it.
"Argh ..." Lindsey's cry was cut short by force of will. "Thank you" she said, with difficulty, "I deserved that. And again, please."
I stood totally charged with excitement. A taboo broken. I wanted to break that will. I wanted Lindsey to beg me to stop. I wanted her to lose her composure, her pride, her dignity. God I loved it. Trite I know, ex-good Catholic girl gone bad (OK, so I was never that good).
"Smug Bitch" I hissed as I raised my arm again and slashed it down, the whip snapping past my ear.
"ARRghhh ..." Lindsey cried again, as the whip bit into the exposed flesh of her pussy. Involuntarily she closed her legs and rolled to one side, cradling her wounded genitals up into her body. "Thank you" she repeated, in a smaller voice. I knew I was going to win. Slowly, she rolled back and opened her legs to me.
"ARRRRRGHHH" she shouted with the next blow, panting to regain her senses, choking back the tears. This was beautiful. I felt so alive and in control. She struggled to say thank you again, but my fully extended arm slammed the across her body. In my thrill I missed my mark; the whip lashing across Lindsey white inner thighs, over her belly, and across her left breast. I immediately raised my arm and thrashed her again. She wasn't offering herself to me any more. She lay on her side, foetal, a hand covering exposed sides of her breasts and face. The whip cracked as I snapped it back behind my head, and forward to dance across Lindsey's bum and shoulder blade. I begged my arm to be stronger, throwing my whole shoulder into the whipping the defenceless little bitch, and then I ...
fell to the floor, the back of my head screaming with pain. I turned to look up to see Lynn, purple faced, screaming "STOPPPPPPPP!!!!!" at me, tennis racket in hand.
For a moment my ears could only hear panting, mine from the exertion. But as I caught my breadth, I realised Lynn was panting too, frantic with effort to stop me. And then I heard soft sobbing, choked with whispered repeated pleas of "stop" from Lindsey.
I stood, confused, ashamed, thrilled. I joined Lynn by Lindsey's side, took the skin cream she had brought, and began to rub it into angry red lines across Lindsey's body. Lynn prickled with anger as her soft hands tried to heal her lover's body. I moved in front of Lindsey, and rubbed cream into her breasts and tummy. She looked at me for a long moment, eye to eye, her cheeks still damp from her tears. "Thank you" she whispered. "Thank you" I quietly replied, and bent down to kiss her softly on her small lips. She accepted my kiss.
"Honestly" Lynn bristled, "you two and your stupid power games". But Lindsey and I knew it wasn't about power. It was about accepting and embracing the cruelty that lies within us, and offering ourselves to the other to receive that cruelty. It was some weird shit. But our friendship was deeper for it.