by Sir Stephen

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© Copyright 2001 - Sir Stephen - Used by permission

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(story continues from )

Part Seven in a series by Sir Stephen

After their experience with double bondage with Kim, Wendy and Eric did indeed grow closer:  they decided to move in with each other.  As neither had a large enough apartment, they decided to rent a house together for the increased privacy and space.  The details of subletting their own apartments, renting a new house, and then moving consumed their energies for a couple of weeks.  Several of their friends helped them with the move.  In fact, Wendy gave copies of the new housekey to three of her friends so that they could help while she was at work at the public library. 

Once they were settled, Eric and Wendy had to consider their new relationship as live-in lovers.  They also had to consider the fact that together with Kim they had discovered a submissive side to Eric.  Was there also a dominant side to Wendy?  Neither was sure. 

The issue required off-line negotiation; something that hadn’t really happened when Eric first submitted to Kim.  That is, outside of the context of play, Eric and Wendy had to decide what really fitted into each other’s fantasies. 

Eric and Wendy found a long list of possible fetish activities on the web, printed it off, and started going down it, rating each item from 0 to 10.  If Eric didn’t like an item, it got an E0, meaning “no way.”  Something interesting but not particularly desired would get a 5.  If, instead, it was something virtually essential to his fantasies as a neo-subbie, it got an E10.  Wendy put down values from W0 through W10.  The list was from the submissive’s point of view. When they were done, part of their list looked like this. 

Inescapable, Strict Bondage: W9 E9 
Comfortable Bondage: W9 E9
Foot Worship: W5 E10
Same-Sex Activities: W5 E0
Cross-Dressing: W0 E5
Public Humiliation: W10 E5
Semi-Public Humiliation: W10 E10
Private Humiliation: W10 E10
Serving Multiple Tops W5 E10
Forced Oral Genital Servitude: W10 E10
Super-Prolonged Forced Oral Genital Servitude: W7 E10
Spankings: W10 E7
Nipple Clamps: W10 E5
Hot Wax: W10 E7
Restrictions on Masturbation: W10 E10
24x7 Lifestyle Servitude: W6 E7
Anal Penetration: W9 E8
Being Teased and Frustrated: W10 E10
Forced Analingus: W5 E10
Forced Drinking of Pee: W0 E7
Age Play: W9 E3

When they were finished, both Eric and Wendy were surprised at their results.  “Eric,” I didn’t know you were so submissive!” exclaimed Wendy. 
“Neither did I,” said Eric.  “I mean, I haven’t really been thinking about this stuff all my life.  It’s mainly that – well, it looks so fun for you that I’ve been thinking about it too.” 
“Well, yes,” answered our heroine, “it *is* fun for me. But I notice that in some of these categories you are much more submissive than I am – surely you didn’t learn those fantasies from watching me writhe in bondage bliss!”

“You’re right,” said Eric.  “Some of these fantasies really strike a chord in me that I can’t easily explain.  You understand the appeal of humiliation, Wendy.  I guess that having been a top now I have begun to understand it too.  And some of the fantasy-women I have thought about all my life, now that I really think about it, have been female tops.  Diana Rigg, for example, or, more recently, Lucy Lawless.  I get confused, though, thinking about you as a top, because you’re my bottom.  Maybe that’s why I like the idea of serving more than one woman at once.”

“Well, how should we manage our lives so as to best satisfy all our desires?” asked Wendy.  “Should we switch off every hour from bottom to top?” 
“I don’t think so,” said Eric.  “I mean, for me the switch from bottomspace to topspace sounds too difficult to handle that often.  Maybe every day or week or month we could switch.” 
“Ok, then,” said Wendy with a giggle, “how about every week, from Monday to Monday, so the weekend doesn’t get broken up!” 
“Agreed,” said her lover.  Let’s flip a coin for the first week. It’s Sunday night now, so the first week start tomorrow.” 

Depending on how you look at it, Eric won the toss – or did Wendy?  Anyway, Wendy was to be the bottom for the first week, which gave her lots of time to mentally plan and prepare for her assault on Eric a week from Monday!

Eric looked hard at Wendy’s preferences and decided on a regimen of strict denial of Wendy’s orgasms – at least for awhile!  In the morning, Eric and Wendy got up an hour earlier than usual, and after they both showered Eric prepared Wendy for her day at work at the public library. 

A tight rope bra was applied to hold her pretty breasts up and out – way out, in fact.  Next, a tight crotchrope was adapted to hold a tiny silver egg-shaped vibrator with a fresh 9-volt battery inside.  A web of knots held the egg over Wendy’s clitoris, while another knot was positioned directly over her hapless anus. “If you have to go, you can pull the ropes aside if you try hard enough,” observed Eric as he fastened her apparatus.  Wendy was then dressed in an opaque but silky-thin blouse, which revealed her erect nipples, and a short pleated skirt.  No hose was allowed, so Wendy wore ankle socks and dress shoes.

“Now, for instructions,” he continued.  “You are not to cross your legs or sit or stand with them close together.  Your lips should be parted whenever you are not speaking.  You should sit on your bare bottom, not on your skirt.  Most importantly, despite your constant vibration, you are not allowed to cum under any circumstances.  Naturally you are not allowed to touch your delicious pussy or your beautiful breasts.   As your pussy-juice drips down your bare thighs, you are to reach down and scrape some of it up in your hands and apply it like perfume to the usual places – your wrists, the front of your neck, below your ears, and so on.  You are to continue to refresh this application as often as possible, whenever you think no one is looking, even when you are at your desk in the middle of the library.  Finally, apply a huge helping of your precious juice to your upper lip so that you can smell it.  Finally, when dealing with male or probable lesbian customers or co-workers, you are to stand as close to them as possible whenever the situation allows it.  In fact, you should try to brush your nipples against them.  When the battery wears down, you are to go to the restroom and replace it with this new one – that should be around noon, and the second one should get you through the day until you come home.  Any questions?” 

“No, Master,” said Wendy, who was already anticipating a day of excruciating horniness.  “Thank you, Master, for keeping me your frustrated love-slave,” she added, as a sweet afterthought. 

Eric and Wendy went off to their jobs.  Wendy was to have a difficult time concentrating on her work!  Her thighs were as wet as if she had just gotten out of the shower by the time she arrived at work. 

Around 9:30 a boy about 16 years old asked whether the library carried Pauline Reage’s “The Story of O,” and Wendy helped him to find it both in its original French and in its two available English translations.  Wendy also pointed him to the interviews the author gave in the mid-1990’s to dispel the feminist rumours that she was actually a man writing as a woman.  Wendy managed to corner the boy in the stacks and, ostensibly reaching for a book on the shelf above his head, she smothered his face between her bound breasts for a long moment, during which neither she nor the boy breathed.  When he asked for additional reading, Wendy directed him to a graphic novel section where Brian Tarsis’s excellent City of Dreams was shelved.  This time Wendy bent over and practically shoved her ass in his face as she extracted the slender volume for his perusal. 
Her pleated skirt rose dangerously close to revealing her crotchrope, and she held the pose longer than she needed to as the boy’s eyes came perilously close to popping out of his head!

Next, a pair of girls perhaps two years older asked for a good book about female love.  One had a lavender buzz-cut hairdo, jeans with holes torn in it in strategic places including her asscheeks, a drawn-on moustache and a leather jacket, and the other was in high heels, a curly hairdo somewhat like Farrah Fawcett’s, red pumps, red hose and a super-short bright red prom dress.  She was obviously wearing a garter belt as her garters extended several inches past the hem of her dress.  She seemed to have on an underwire bra, as her breasts extended impossibly and yet her nipples, like Wendy’s were clearly visible in outline. 

One incongruous although colour-matching thing about the fem girl was her tight dog-collar.  It was made of wide red leather with a large silver ringlet facing forward for a leash to be attached to.  In rhinestones, it had a legend on it: SLUT. Another incongruity in the fem girl’s outfit appeared on second glance. She wore matching bracelets of red studded leather, each of which said in smaller rhinestones: TIE ME. Her lipstick was firetruck red, she had long black hair braided in two side pony-tails and finished with red-bows.  She did not speak, but her lips were parted slightly and the tip of her tongue was showing slightly, like a shy mammal trying to decide whether it was time to come out of hibernation after a long wet winter. 

The two were holding hands quite prettily as the fem girl did a deep, slow formal curtsey.  Wendy recommended, and then showed them to, The Well of Loneliness and other works of classic lesbian fiction.  She showed them the incomparable “Lesbos” by Baudelaire both in French and in the superb English translation by George Dillon, and Wendy then led them to the non-fiction section, where she strongly recommended Pat Califia’s Macho Sluts and Public Sex.  “If you think Camille Paglia is controversial, try Pat Califia,” she observed, as she wriggled her way through the various aisles with the two in tow behind her.  “I hope these will help you get started,” Wendy added, with a longish wink and a little bit of a pant. 

“How about something about vibrators,” pursued the butch half of the couple, and Wendy blushed to think that her egg was slightly audible in these quiet bookstacks.  “I recommend getting on the Good Vibrations mailing list out of San Francisco,” Wendy replied.  “I’m afraid that the library has limited resources on auto-erotic devices.  You might also consult Stormy Leather, a store in the same city.” 

The butch girl turned to her fem friend and said, “With this woman’s permission, you are to slow kiss the toes of her shoes in gratitude.”  Wendy blushed – she was already red, but she got redder – and nodded silently once.  They were deep in the stacks, and no one else was around.  The almost absurdly feminine girl got down on her hands and knees, keeping a scorching deep eye contact with Wendy the entire time, and then lowered her pretty submissive face to plant her full, young, freshly lipglossed lips for a long, long time on each of Wendy’s toes.  As she kissed the second shoe, Wendy’s left, Butch put her right boot on the back of Fem’s head and said “No rush. Let her know you care.”  Wendy felt a surge of joy as she felt Fem’s tongue pressing and licking right through her shoe.  Was this what it felt like to be a top?  “Wow,” she thought.  Wendy’s fluids started to gush almost as freely as if she were peeing, and visible droplets started running down both inner thighs, down the back of her knees, and all the way to her ankle socks.

Butch said, “Let me help you, Miss,” and reached down to gather as much of the precious liquid as she could with the fingers of her left hand.  Butch slowly, slowly sucked her fingers dry and pronounced: “Vintage wine, my dear.  Much richer than the thin young stuff I’ve been swilling.”
“Th-thank you very mu-much,” stammered Wendy, almost losing it and cumming despite Eric’s clear orders.  “Was there anything else I could help you with?” she managed with a smile.  Butch smiled the self-satisfied smile of a cat who has just eaten the canary.  “I was just going to ask you the same thing, Miss.  Would you like to borrow my pussyslave and take her to a rest room stall for, say, twenty minutes? I’m sure she’s real thirsty for what you’ve got.  And, by the way, I *love* that perfume you’re wearing.”  “N-no, th-thank you very much, r-really, and don’t think I’m not deeply tempted, but I have reasons why I can’t just now. I’m still working, and actually, I would be very disobedient to my lover if I came right now.”  Butch ground her foot on Fem’s head one last time and then said “Up now, love cakes. Tell her how very sorry you are that you missed your chance, and offer her your pager number.”

Fem rose, but only to her knees.  Until now, Fem had not spoken a word.  Now her eyes burned again into Wendy’s soul and she said, “Beautiful Miss, I really am very sorry that I couldn’t belong to you for at least just a little while.  You’re very lovely, and I would love to have been a total slave to your sweet, *obviously* very juicy pussy for as long as it took to please and satisfy your mind, body and soul.  Perhaps someday we will meet again and the circumstances will be different.  I hope that then you will consider using me as your toy, and cum repeatedly on my shameless worthless slavish wet horny mouth and slutty thirsty agile strong well-trained tongue with the same abandon and indifference you would show to a vibrator or dildo.  I hope that you will sit on me, slap me, spit on me, cum on me, and then, if you like, piss on me and piss in me.  I would like to be your full-service full-time toilet slave.  I would love to save you money on toilet paper.  Use me, and you will never have to buy any more for any reason, for yourself or for your guests.  Feed me only on your delicious cum and your complete scorn.  Store me, if you like, in a closet or trunk until you desire me.  Ignore my own needs and let me satisfy yours – that will satisfy mine completely.  Here is my unworthy card should you wish to own me later.” 

Fem reached into the neckline of her dress, fetched a card from underneath her left breast, and extended it to Wendy as a butler might offer a croissant on a silver platter.  Wendy could not break the young girl’s gaze – she reached for and snatched up the card while exchanging a look that said – what did it not say?  Longing and love, frustration and orgasm, the need of one pussy to belong to another and the need of the other to own it.  Wendy was awash in the implications, as well as in the juice from her own pussy, which flowed out of her like a fountain, belying her refusal to accept this girl, this gift from another girl. 

Above all, Wendy saw and understood the desire to be a thing, to be relieved of the responsibilities of being a person -– this was in both of their looks and both of their souls.  Something ancient and new smouldered and shone from within the pretty kneeling girl.  Wendy could not break the glance even to read the card.  Only a supreme personality could extinguish itself so completely in the perfect servitude, which this young girl had attained.  Did the girl become more or less of a person as she denied so completely her person-hood?  Was she a slut, or were the thousands and millions of girls and women who partially or completely denied their own sexuality the real sluts?  Was it slutty to satisfy others or was it more slutty withhold sexual favours as a means of attracting and controlling them? 

Wendy’s mouth was the only thing dry about her.  She licked it with a sandpapery tongue and managed to ask: “Would you serve men too?” 

The girl, who was still, and properly, nameless, answered readily.  “I would serve and do anything you wish me to do, short of doing serious or permanent injury to myself or anyone else.  My sexual preferences are to have no preferences other than to serve and service a woman such as yourself in any way conceivable. You may give me to anyone you wish, including men, and I will serve them with the same inexhaustible horniness and sluttiness that I would reserve for you yourself.”  Wendy gulped.  “Per-perhaps, then. Some other time when…” – looking to the Butch girl – “with your permission?” 
“Of course, Miss.  I have lots of sluts.  For now, I’ll take her home and make her read me these books aloud.  She’ll be ready when you page her.   I guarantee you that she won’t cum until then, even if you wait a year.” 
“Thank you both,” said Wendy.  “I’ll try to think about it sometime when my pussy isn’t doing all the thinking for me.” 
“Be careful, Miss,” said Butch. “Sometimes a woman’s pussy should be listened to.” With that the two lesbians departed, one with a manly walk, and the other with an exaggerated swish that could have come from a 60’s film. 

It was nearly noon, and Wendy realized that her battery needed changing.  She went to the restroom, hiked up her skirt, and extracted the egg from its cage of knots.  Wendy put in the new 9-volt battery, and felt it hum strongly as she put it back in its spot.  She also took the opportunity to bathe herself in her pussy-juice, which by now practically sheathed her legs in pheromones. 
Wendy anointed her sternum, neck, and face with the stuff, placing an extra amount, as instructed by Eric, on her upper lip.  Wendy was so close to orgasm as she stood up that she had to hold the two sides of the stall and gasp for a minute before she could back down from the verge.  As she walked back to her desk she saw a line of customers including a tall man who looked like Pierce Brosnan.  “All in a day’s work,” she said to herself as she walked back to her station, swinging her hips as happily as a schoolgirl at the start of vacation.  As she sat down, she obediently swished her skirt back so that her gluteus maximi would touch the wooden chair, and she spread her cheeks so that the knot Eric had tied would press even more tightly into her anus. She squirmed a little on her knot, and said, “Can I help you, please?” to the Pierce Brosnan clone. 

She could hardly wait to see Eric that night, and get tied up and give him blowjobs that would blow his ever-loving mind.  In her excited, intoxicated state, and inspired by the girl in the red dress, Wendy no longer cared whether Eric would let her cum that night, so long as she could have sex with him and satisfy him totally.  And, in a small corner of her mind, Wendy was already planning and plotting ways to dominate Eric at the end of the week.  “After all,” Wendy thought, “guys are even easier to tease than girls are!” 

But right now, Pierce Brosnan was asking her for a book on how to best perform cunnilingus!

The story continues in
Part Eight - Wandering Wendy


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