At 10:15 PM, Joan realized that the cuddling session had exceeded its required hour, but she gave no hint to Penny. She continued to hold the big girl cradled in her lap, dispensing affectionate embraces that were addictively sex-charged, if maddeningly frustrating. Finally, as 10:30 passed, Joan noticed that Penny was yawning-- it was her bedtime. Reluctantly, Joan released Penny, and the big girl climbed out of Joan's lap.
Joan accompanied Penny to the bathroom, where the beautiful girl brushed her teeth. Then Penny led Joan to a basement stairwell. 'You don't want to go down there, do you sweetheart?' asked Joan. Penny looked at her. 'Bedtime,' she said. She descended the stairs, and Joan followed.
The basement contained an open rec room area and several hallways. At the end of one hall, Penny opened a door.
The room was nearly filled by a steel cage, approximately 7' tall by 8' wide, with a bare mattress spread out in the center. The cage also contained a small toilet and a faucet.
Penny removed her nightie and gave it to Joan. Then she entered the cage and closed the door. She looked at Joan, then glanced over at a peg on the wall where some keys hung.
She expected Joan to lock her in.
Joan took the keys from the wall. She felt dizzy, as in the action were being performed by someone else and she were watching at a distance. She inserted the key in the lock and turned it. Her eyes darted to Penny as the lock made a loud 'click!' Penny's reaction was hard to gauge-- was she relieved at having the action performed, or resigned to being once again a prisoner in this lonely cell?
Joan put the key back on the ring. It was out of Penny's reach-- she was truly a prisoner. Joan went to the door, said good night to the lovely girl, and switched out the light. The room became pitch black-- of course, since there was no window for moonlight to filter in.
'Are you going to be ok in there, sweetheart?' asked Joan.
'...I'm Penny...' came the quiet reply.
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Preparing to retire in one of the guest rooms, Joan couldn't help but compare its elegance and king-size bed with the tiny pallet on which Penny must sleep. For now, Joan would just have to enjoy the bed for both of them.
Discarding her clothes, Joan stood nude before a full-length mirror. She was a plain, ordinary girl, slender, short, and athletic. Her flat stomach tended to make her round, generous breasts seem impressive-- she would look incredible in a bikini if she ever wore one.
The only problem with her looks was her face. Not her features, mind you-- her midnight-dark hair, thick eyebrows, long lashes and full lips gave her a striking contenance. But her expression was invariably cool, critical, and impatient. It was an expression that skillfully thwarted friendly advances, and threw cold water on even the most candescent of courtships. As well it should, she thought-- if she didn't feel any passion, why should she pretend that she did?
But after today, she detected a thawing of those chilled features. And she could only guess what volcanic consequences would result when her calculating, coldly-persistant nature became wed with raw, carnal passion.
She reclined on the bed, her body insinuated nakedly between the soft cotton sheets. She closed her eyes and slept.
And she dreamed. She dreamed of a child-woman whose anatomy was a cornucopia of fleshly rewards. She dreamed of another woman, equally attractive, whose genius in the culinary arts opened up yet more frontiers of sensual fulfillment.
And she dreamed of a third, dark woman, whose fierce determination was a force that, unleashed, would bring terrible, infamous consequences.
To Be Continued...