Date: Wed, 28 Dec 2011 19:38:50 -0500 (EST)
From: Gawler Hicks
Subject: Landlady?s visit

Landlady's visit (F/F, F-Self, D/s, Toys, BD, Slavery, Reluctant, Serious)
by Gawler Hicks
============================================================================
Synopsis:  A shy virgin is going to enjoy some self-bondage today. But she
completely  forgot that her landlord, Miss Westlake, is to be expected today
as well.
============================================================================

Standing  in front of the full-height mirror, Christine studied her naked
body  thoughtfully. Not too bad for a 23 year old, she thought. Hips are a
bit narrow,  though: boyish, she'd say. And this stupid birthmark on the left
thigh. But  breasts are alright, thank God. Good and proper 36C, nothing
like her friend's  Susan flat chest. Poor thing. Christine laid her hands on
her beauties and  massaged them a little, nipples hardening under her fingers.
She loved her  breasts. Turning sideways, she made sure that her waist was
still slender, no  extra fat and folds. She looked below, at her butt and
smooth legs, but they  were perfectly fine as well.
Despite all this, Christine was still a virgin.  Not technically, of
course: she learned how to use a dildo a long time ago. She  wore baggy clothes,
never wore any cosmetics, never went to night clubs and  never stayed too
long at her friends' parties. She was too afraid to let the  boys know that she
wanted them.  She was too afraid to get out of her own  cozy lonely shell.
More than anything in this world she wanted to spread her  legs for a real
and hard cock, but the fear of being ridiculed stopped her. It  was much
safer to engage in fantasies.  She was just a helpless toy there,  while strong
and cruel men ravaged her bound and naked body without end. The  intensity
of her humiliation within those fantasies could only be overpowered by  a
sheer pleasure and irresistible urge to feel it again and again.
All that  prepared her long ago for the world of BDSM. Deep in her laptop
there was a  folder with a meaningless name where Christine kept all pictures
and videos of  bound women she could find. She visited a lot of web sites
where kinky people  like her met each other, but she was too scared to place
there an ad of her own.  She just read them: eyes wide open, a sweet tingle
between her legs.  The  fantasies were okay, but she absolutely didn't want
to end up in hands of a real  sadist: she was afraid of pain, and who knows
if he lets her go at all? So she  just watched and read and exhausted
herself with masturbation. She became a real  pro in that, her small collection of
dildos and vibrators never lay idle for too  long. Not to mention the other
toys.
When she discovered that she can tie  herself up, she dived into this
little hobby with all fervency of her always  dissatisfied nature. She stopped
living with her friend Susan and moved to a  separate apartment: not too
expensive, not too cheap, just enough to live on her  own and make ends meet.
Nobody would have disrupted her little solo games. It  wasn't too good for her
budget, but it was worth it. She always feared her  secrets would be
disclosed for some reason, and despite living on her own, she  still hid her toys
in a huge luggage bag, locked and shoved under her lonely  queen-sized bed.
The bag was on top of the bed this time, opened invitingly.  Seeing its
reflection in the mirror, Christine felt she was getting wet just  with the
sight
of it. She slowly lowered her finger to the bristle of hair  down below and
touched her slit, shuddering with pleasure. She took it as a  rule to shave
it
before every "act", as she called it; and the last "act"  was a couple of
weeks
ago. It was time to tidy up and start. Still, she took  some more time,
touching herself with eyes closed in front of the mirror,  anticipating another
long and uninterrupted "act", which would take the most of  this Saturday.
 Finally she sighed and went to the bathroom. She woke up a  couple of
hours earlier and decided not to dress up at all, walking naked around  the
apartment.  In her today's fantasy she was captured by a gang of brutes  who didn
't allow her to wear any clothes, and soon they were expected to return:
to humiliate and torment her again. She even ate her breakfast sitting on the
 floor, feeling cold wood boards under her bare butt: they didn't allow her
to  use chairs, of course.  For the same reason she had to stand on her
knees  when she checked her emails and updates on BDSM sites. After taking a
shower  Christine dried herself and began to get rid of extra hair. Her
captors wanted  her to be smooth like a little girl down there, and because she
didn't shave for  such a long period, she was going to be punished. Carefully
she shaved off the  bristle and polished the rest with a depilatory cream.
Even a tiniest hair on  her pussy or butt could inflict unthinkable tortures
on her, and imagining them  she hardly could keep herself from climaxing
there and then. Finally, everything  was ready. She checked herself in the
mirror briefly, touched her now smooth and  hairless sex with another shudder of
pleasure, and went to her bedroom. She felt  much more naked now, after the
shaving, and it made her even hornier.  From  the bag she took a black
leather collar. It was high, covering all of her neck,  and had a shiny metal
ring in front of it. She slowly lifted the collar and  pressed it against her
throat, enjoying the touch of cold leather. Then she  meticulously fastened
it on her neck, savoring each movement. Now she could  barely turn her head
and could not lower it at all. That's how a slave should  look like, her
captors always told her. Collared, like a wild animal. After that  Christine
put on her old nylon stockings, taking them from the same bag. They  were torn
in several places, but that didn't make them bad; on the contrary,  they
witnessed her countless sufferings and reminded her how pathetic and
worthless she was in the eyes of her captors. Touching her nylon-covered calves  and
thighs, she almost went crazy with arousal. She had to be quick, though:
her  captors could return at any minute.
The next item that saw the light of day  was a tube of anal lubricant.
Squeezing some gel on her palm, Christine lay on  her back, bent her legs,
pressed them to her breasts and carefully greased her  hairless butthole. One of
her captors liked this tiny little hole of hers so  much! Christine had to
stretch it a little bit to lessen her sufferings, so she  sprang to her feet
and went to the kitchen. There, in a bowl of hot water, was a  butt plug.
Christine dried it and covered it with the rest of the lube; then she
returned to the bedroom, lay on her back again and began to place the warm plug
into her generously lubricated anus. Biting her lips in half pain, half
pleasure, she felt herself absolutely dirty and perverted, and this brought
another wave of sweet shame to her. As soon as the thickest part was in, she let
 the plug slide into her completely and got up on her feet. A sensation of
fullness was a bit uncomfortable; but, oddly enough, it only intensified
her  growing pleasure.
She walked around the bedroom a little, listening to her  sensations.
Heaviness
of the plug in her butt, strict leather of the collar  under her chin,
coolness
of nylon on her legs; it all was converting  Christine from a quiet office
mouse,
as she was known by her friends and  colleagues, into a spoiled and horny
slut, who only lived for the cocks of her  masters. She came back to the bed
and, taking out the rest of necessary items,  began to complete her attire.
A minute later her left leg was tied with a rope,  ankle to thigh. Christine
made sure that the knot wouldn't go off and tied her  right leg in the same
manner. Then she inserted her best vibrator into her  pussy: it was
programmed to turn on and off randomly, with random intensity, and  the battery
could last for six hours.  It slid inside her instantly, so wet  and aroused
she was. Breathing heavily, Christine tied herself with one more  rope,
placing it on her waist and crotch in order the vibrator not to slip out.
Only one more item remained: her handcuffs. Christine closed one cuff on
her  left wrist and put both arms behind her; then she sat motionless for a
minute,  butt plug and vibrator pressed deep inside her. Only a couple of
metal clicks  now separated her from a total helplessness. This moment always
scared and  excited her. It was one of the strongest moments of every "act".
She bid her  time, savoring this unstable moment, the last moment of her
freedom for the next  several hours and suddenly, hearing the footsteps of her
imaginary captors in  the hallway, she put her wrist into another cuff and
quickly closed it.   That was it. She was helpless now. She couldn't untie
her legs being in  handcuffs, and surely she couldn't take the handcuffs off
either. The key from  her freedom was in the kitchen now, on the edge of the
table, frozen into a  large chunk of ice. She had no other choice but to
wait until the ice melts, and  then she would have to crawl like a frog to the
kitchen to stand on her knees  there and take the key from the table with
her mouth. But it would take at least  two hours until that moment. Two hours
of helplessness and sweet torture.   Sitting on the floor with her eyes
closed, she felt her captors looking at  her.  They were standing around, eyeing
her naked breasts with erect  nipples, her bound legs in torn stockings.
Someone ordered her to bow her head:  a slave must not take her gaze off the
floor. She tried to do that, but she  couldn't: her high collar wouldn't let
her. She turned her head desperately in  every way possible, but she wasn't
able to lower her chin, and she could only  see the tips of her nipples.
She had to be punished for such misbehavior; and  one of the men laughed
viciously and kicked her in the back.
She fell on the  carpet, squeezing her breasts against it. It hurt, but she
forgot about that in  a second. She was so vulnerable now, so exposed with
her legs spread apart.  Someone forced a finger into her tight anus, while
several fingers roughly  entered her pussy. They laughed at her, made remarks
about her body, their  callous hands were all over her. They told each
other what a dirty and pathetic  slut was now before them. Christine could only
lie there with her face down,  dying of humiliation, aroused beyond the
point of madness. She begged her  tormentors to have mercy on her, but she knew
it was useless, and any minute  they would start using her body (their
body!) without a slightest remorse.   Her vibrator kicked in at last and shook
her body with an avalanche of  sensations. A grey and quiet mouse called
Christine disappeared without a  trace.  There was a dirty slut on the floor who
was violently raped by her  captor, while other men watched and laughed.
They were waiting for their turn,  while all she could do is squirm and writhe
on the floor, moaning with fear and  pleasure.  After only a couple of
minutes vibrator turned off, and the slut  moaned again, this time in
frustration, causing another wave of laughter from  her captors. Oh no, said this
laughter, you exist for our pleasure only, and if  you so stupid that you can't
come yourself, the worse for you. Christine  wriggled in her bondage, unable
to get free, unable to bring her climax any  closer; but she knew that her
captors hadn't finished with her yet, and there  was more and more for her to
come.
An hour later she was immensely tired;  and, as usual, she somewhat
regretted about the whole idea. Her legs were numb,  her handcuffed wrists hurt,
her hair was a mess, and she was panting and  glistening with sweat. But then
her vibrator came alive again, and several  seconds later she was shaking in
another orgasm: she didn't even know the number  of it. She was lying on
her back now and wailed like a cat in heat, rolling from  side and side. Her
breasts were red with carpet markings, her toes were  contracting under the
wet nylon. It was worth every second of this long naked  morning. It was
worth living through those dull, grey weeks. Her climax had  passed, and she lay
still, drained of all strength. She saw the masters passing  her by: they
were already satiated with her body, they didn't even look at her.  But she
still was available for them, unable to get free, and she was as happy  as
any dirty slut could be.  And at that happy moment she heard the key in  the
lock of the front door.  Those sounds were real. She didn't imagine  them.
She froze in terror, unable to believe it. Then she heard the door  opening,
and a split second later it was shut. Someone was in the hallway now.  She
heard the footsteps. She began to get up on her knees frantically, thoughts
about the key on the kitchen table racing through her mind. And then she
remembered. Her landlord (or landlady, to be exact) made her a call last night,
 when Christine was asleep already. She told Christine that she would come
tomorrow for a brief inspection. Which meant today, of course. Christine
agreed  sleepily, hung up the phone and completely forgot about the call the
next  morning. When she woke up, she could think only about the "act"
scheduled for  today. How could she be so stupid?! What was she going to do?! She
rose on her  knees finally, not knowing yet why she did that; and right at
this second the  landlady appeared on the bedroom doorstep.  Miss Westlake
was 42 years old,  and she was quite a sight for her age: trim figure,
beautiful skin. Christine  knew little about her. Only that the woman lived alone
at her own house, without  a husband or children. Red as a lobster, Christine
stood on her knees and  couldn't meet woman's eye: even if she wanted to
act like he was robbed and  bound by someone else, the bag on her bed, full
of bondage gear, gave her away  completely.
"Wow," said Miss Westlake at last.
Christine didn't say  anything, paralyzed with shame. She had never felt so
ashamed in her entire  life. Her worst fear, a fear to be discovered, came
true.  "Wow," said Miss  Westlake again, this time with a hint of smile in
her voice.
"Who would have  thought you had it in you?"
"I'm so sorry," said Christine quietly, almost  crying. "I forgot you
would
come."
"I could see that." She was definitely  smiling this time. She entered the
bedroom, came to Christine and squatted  in front of her. "And you're
doing this
for how long?"
"For some time,"  whispered Christine.
"How long?"
"I don't know, seven years or  so"
"Seven years. Who would have thought? I suppose you don't have a
boyfriend, do
you?"
"No." Christine felt water swelling in her eyes, and  before she knew it
she
burst into tears, shaking and sobbing. "Please don't  tell anyone, Miss
Westlake.
I'm so sorry and embarrassed."
"I bet you  are," she nodded. If Christine wasn't so busy with crying
right now,
she  would have noticed the strange look in woman's eyes: they were
studying her
naked breasts, her hairless crotch with a rope between the pussy lips which

soaked with the girl's juices. "Of course you're embarrassed. Such a
modest  girl turned out to be so pervert. What do you think your parents would
say? What  about your friends or your colleagues? Could you imagine that?"
Christine cried  like a baby. Kneeled before a woman whom she barely knew,
naked, frog tied and  handcuffed, she sobbed, unable to wipe her eyes and nose,
mumbling about how  sorry she was. Finally Miss Westlake seemed to feel
sorry for her and patted her  shoulder gently.
"There, there," she said. "Everything's okay. Stop crying.  Tell me how
you were
going to release yourself."
Still sobbing, Christine  told her about the key. Miss Westlake went to the
kitchen and returned with the  small piece of ice. Right at this moment, as
if she wasn't humiliated enough,  Christine's vibrator turned on again.
She shuddered, feeling waves of pleasure  spreading all over her body against
her will. Miss Westlake looked at her with a  strange smile, and then
another strange thing happened: Miss Westlake began to  take off her clothes.
Christine couldn't believe it. Fighting with waves of  pleasure from her
vibrator, she watched incredulously how the woman was  undressing in front of her;
looking right at Christine's eyes, still smiling.  Soon she was standing in
front of the girl completely naked. Despite the mess of  thoughts in her
mind, Christine couldn't help but admire the woman's physical  shape. She
wished she could look that good at her age.
"Do you like my body?"  Miss Westlake asked her.
"I'm sorry?" Another wave of pleasure shook  Christine. She couldn't hold
it much
longer.
"My body. Do you like  it?"
"Um" "yes, I think"
The woman's breasts were small, but firm. Her  nipples were huge and stood
erect right now. A thin line of short dark hair ran  down to her shaved
pussy lips.  "Have you ever had sex with a woman?" Miss  Westlake asked, and at
this moment Christine came. It was too much. The vibrator  buzzed inside
her, while she was squirming in front of the naked woman, all  senses lost.
When it was over, Christine couldn't meet Miss Westlake's eyes. She  felt she
could literally die of shame right now.
"You're so cute when you're  coming," Miss Westlake said. "So tell me,
Christine.
Have you ever had sex  with a woman?"
"No," the girl whispered, catching her breath.
"Never? And  didn't want to?"
"No." She looked at the woman at last. She tried to ignore  her words,
longing for all this to as soon as possible. "Please untie me, Miss  Westlake. I
'm so sorry. I won't do this anymore, I promise." "Really?" The woman
was clearly enjoying the situation. "And you hope this is going to stay a
secret  between us two, Right?" "Please, don't tell anyone, Miss Westlake. I'm
begging  you." "You're a good girl, Christine," she said softly. "I agree
with you. I  don't think anyone should know about this either. Let it stay
like this, like  our tiny little secret." "Thank you, Miss Westlake." For
the first time  Christine smiled, feeling an immense relief. "Thank you so
much. I--" `But you'll  have to do something for me first," said Miss
Westlake.  "What?" Christine  began to panic again. "What should I do?" "Firstly,
just stay like this for a  while." She went to the hallway, still naked,
and returned with her cell phone a  minute after. Before Christine knew it,
Miss Westlake held it up and took a  picture of her.
"What are you doing?" was all the stunned girl could  say.  Not answering,
the woman went closer and took another photo; a  close-up of Christine's
naked breasts and her red sweaty face with eyes wide  open.  "Please stop it!"
 Christine said, her fear growing. She didn't  understand what was going
on. "Why are you doing this? Please don't!" Miss  Westlake took two more
pictures and threw the phone on the bed. Then she  squatted in front of the girl
again, her small breasts so close to Christine's  face.
"I had some thoughts about you, I have to confess," she said. "But  never,
even
in my wildest dreams you didn't end up being like this. Wrapped,  packed
and
ready to use. I guess you didn't dream about this either. But  here we are,
and
the opportunity must be seized. Do you want to have sex  with me, Christine?
"
"No!" said Christine, appalled. "I'm not like this! I  don't have sex
with women!
I'm not a lesbian!"
"Are you sure?" Suddenly  Miss Westlake moved closer. She was almost
sitting on
Christine's lap,  looking at her from above. Her right nipple touched
Christine's
face, and  she jerked repulsively. But still, Christine felt the warmth of
the
woman's  body, the scent of her perfume. "You know what they say: a
properly
secured  straight isn't much different from a lesbian" and you're secured
well
enough, aren't you?"
"Stop it!" Christine shouted. "Leave me alone! I'm  not having sex with
you, I
don't want it!"
"Sure? Well, that's too bad."  Miss Westlake stood up. She looked into the
bag on
the bed and found a ball  gag harness inside. She quickly shoved the big
rubber ball into Christine's  mouth and strapped the gag tight, despite the
girl's protests. After that Miss  Westlake began to dress up and did that in a
couple of minutes.
"I understand  your concern," she said, taking her phone from the bed. "If
you
don't want  me, it's your choice, I can't blame you. Just remember that
the first
choice  may not be the best. Think about it while you're sitting here bound
and
gagged. I'm not gonna take advantage of you; the only thing I'll take is
the  key
from your handcuffs. Just something for me to remember this day. And  I'll
keep
the pictures, of course. I think your neighbors would be happy to  see them
in
their mailboxes tomorrow. And your colleagues as well. I know  where you
work,
remember? It won't do you much harm, though. Bound as you  are, I don't
think
you'll be able to get out of the apartment at all. I  don't think you're
expecting any guests in the next few days, huh?"  Christine shook her head
no
automatically. "That's what I thought. I wonder  what it's like to stay
like this
for days, unable to call for help. But like  I said, it's your choice. So
goodbye, sweetheart. See you next time" or probably  not, ha-ha." And she
left the bedroom.
A thousand pictures raced through  Christine's shocked mind at once, while
she was listening to the woman's  footsteps behind the wall. Somehow she
knew that Miss Westlake wasn't joking.  She was going to leave her. Without a
single chance to escape. Christine saw  herself after the next few hours:
naked and bound, crying for help, with gag  muffling all her screams and
shouts. How long will it take for someone to find  her? Will she be alive by then?
And what her parents will say when they find out  their daughter died of
thirst and starvation during a self bondage game? And  those pictures in the
woman's phone--
Christine became so panicked that before  she could think she shouted at
the top of her lungs, begging the woman to stop.  A second later Miss Westlake
appeared at her doorstep.
"You wanted to say  something?"
Christine nodded desperately.
"You want me to stay?"
She  nodded again. A drop of saliva fell from her gagged mouth onto her
right  breast.
"Are you sure? I could just leave you and go, I don't want to  interrupt
your little game." "Mmmph! Mmmph!" Christine shook her head violently.  She
was sick of her little game. She wanted only one thing: to become free, at
any cost.  Miss Westlake grinned and came up to her. She undid the straps
of the girl's gag and took it off. Then she squatted next to her, looking at
Christine's eyes with the expression so triumphant and eager that Christine
 shuddered involuntarily.  Less than anything she wanted to be with that
woman, but right now she didn't have a choice.
"So, Christine," Miss Westlake  said calmly, "I think I may ask this
question again for the last time. Do you  want to have sex with me?" "Yes," she
whispered after a brief pause.
"Sorry,  what? I didn't hear you."
"Yes!"
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I want to have sex  with you, Miss Westlake."
The woman smiled. Her hand touched Christine's  breast gently, and the girl
shuddered again.
"Good girl," she said. "I like  your attire. You have taste. And a good
body, of
course." Her hand ran down  to Christine's waist and then further, to her
pussy lips spread apart with rope.  Christine shivered. The touches felt
good, but the fact that she was touched by  a woman almost nullified the
pleasure. It was almost like being touched by her  mother.
"I never tried bondage play before, you know," Miss Westlake said,
beginning to
untie the rope on Christine's right leg. "But I like to be on  top of the
game, if you know what I mean. And you look so awesome I think we may  give
it a try. I will be your first girl, and you will be my first girl in
bondage. You will be my plaything today. My cute little toy. Are you sure you
didn't want to have sex with a woman before?" Christine shook her  head.
"We're a lot better than men, trust me. We know our bodies. We know how
and where to touch. We endure much, much longer. Men are not like that. They'
re  like matches. Pff, and it's gone. All they want is to stick it in,
squirt, and  leave.
I believe you know it already."
Something in Christine's silence  made her look into the girl's eyes
intently.
"Or do you?"
Christine  couldn't lie. Not in front of this woman. She shook her hand and
blushed,  probably a hundredth time for today.
"You got to be kidding me. You still a  virgin?"
Christine nodded, almost crying. Her legs were free now, and Miss  Westlake
was taking off her crotch rope.
"That's okay," Miss Westlake smiled.  "I had my first-timers before. Don'
t worry,
sweetheart, I will guide you. I  want you to feel as good as I do. Now let'
s take this dildo out. There you are.  So slimy, you definitely had a good
time with it.  Well, isn't this a butt  plug? You're such a slut, young
lady. Let it stay where it is, I don't want to  get my hands dirty. Now stand up.
" Christine rose on her feet clumsily, her arms  still handcuffed. With an
effort Miss Westlake took the bag from the bed and put  it on the floor. She
led Christine to the bed and suddenly pushed her. The girl  fell on the bed
and froze wide-eyed, watching the woman. Miss Westlake lifted  Christine's
legs and placed them on the bed too. After that she began to undress  again.
A couple of minutes later both women were lying naked in the bed: one on
bottom, handcuffed and shaking with fear, and one on top, smiling viciously
and  touching the helpless body in front of her.
"Don't be afraid, my little toy,"  Miss Westlake said, her fingers playing
with the pussy lips of her prey. "Tell  me about your fantasies. Tell me
what you think about when you tie yourself up."  Stumbling and blushing,
Christine began to tell her. She thought she couldn't be  more embarrassed until
then, but she was wrong. Not only her body was naked in  front of this
woman; her soul was becoming naked too. Her deepest and darkest  secrets were
coming out. And she couldn't do a single thing about it. She was in  complete
and absolute power of this woman. She told her about her imaginary  captors,
told about other fantasies she had before. Trying to wrap images into
words, Christine began to get aroused involuntarily. The fingers of her landlady
were everywhere, in the most intimate places of her body, and that helped
too.  Christine's speech began to falter and then ceased completely. It  didn
't matter now that her partner was a woman, a human being of her own sex.
Christine breathed heavily and moaned, her eyes closed, feeling soft and
warm  flesh against hers. She couldn't think of anything else. She didn't want
 to.  Suddenly she felt Miss Westlake's lips against her own. She opened
her  mouth slightly, and Miss Westlake's tongue slipped there, meeting hers.
It was  the first real kiss in her life. She moaned again, unable to resist
the  sensation.  Two females were kissing, entwining their tongues, and Miss
Westlake's hand between Christine's legs moved faster and faster, until
suddenly  the girl uttered a scream and arched her back, accepting the orgasm.
The first  orgasm that another human being gave to her. And not just a
human being. A  woman. Just like herself.
"Did you like it?" Miss Westlake asked when the  last spasms of Christine'
s pleasure died out.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Told  you. You like being my plaything so far?" "Yes," she whispered
after a  pause.
"Say it."
"I like to be your plaything, Miss Westlake."
"Good.  Now show my little girl how much you like it. Say it to her." Miss
Westlake rose  and kneeled on both sides of Christine's head, as if riding
it. The woman's  pussy was in front of Christine's face.  "I like to be yo
ur plaything, Miss  Westlake," she said uncertainly, addressing to the woman'
s vagina.
"You silly  thing," woman laughed. "Say it with your tongue. Kiss it. Kiss
my
little  girl."
"I can't," whispered Christine, unable to divert her gaze from the  woman'
s sex.
"You can and you will. Kiss it. Use your tongue. Now."
Slowly  Christine raised her head and kissed the woman's pussy. She felt
its lips  against hers. The touch was hot and moist. She probed them with her
tongue, and  Miss Westlake moaned above her. Suddenly the woman pressed her
groin against  Christine's face, literally sitting on it. The girl's nose
and mouth were now  sealed by the woman's pussy, and she couldn't do
anything else but to lick. Her  tongue went in and out, and Miss Westlake's moans
were her answers. The taste  was strong, but not unpleasant. Christine licked
and licked, forgetting about  everything, forgetting even about the pain in
her handcuffed wrists beneath  her.  Miss Westlake began to thrust her hips
against the girl's face,  slowly at first, then faster and faster. Christine
's world shrank into countless  slick folds of soft flesh under her tongue,
into a pungent smell of aroused  female, into the moans and heavy breathing
above. Suddenly the rhythm broke, and  Miss Westlake's hips squeezed her
head harder than before. Moans turned into  screams. The woman was climaxing
sitting on Christine's face, smearing it with  hot juices, and the girl could
only wait until it ends.
"That wasn't so bad,  was it?" Miss Westlake said when she dismounted
Christine's
face and sat  beside her, smiling. Both women were panting, faces
glistening with  sweat.
Christine smiled uncertainly, not knowing how she should answer. She  had
just had sex with a woman. Was she a lesbian now? She didn't want to be a
lesbian.
But she had to admit that she did climax from this woman's touches,  and
the
feeling was incredible. Better than any dildo or vibrator could give  her. "
I
didn't have a choice," she reminded to herself. "I had to obey that
woman, or
she wouldn't free me. But what's next?"
"I like this slave  character of yours," Miss Westlake continued. She
smiled, but
the look in  her eyes was so strange that Christine couldn't even guess
what it meant. "Very  sexy. Did I tell you it's my first time with a girl in
handcuffs?  It's  hot, I must tell you. I didn't even know what it was like,
to have sex with a  completely helpless person. To make her do what I want,
not caring about  anything but my own pleasure. You can't believe how it
feels. You know what, I  think you'll stay like this for a little while
longer. I'm too horny to set you  free right now. I want you to be my little slave
for a while. You like to be a  slave, don't you?" "Yes," whispered
Christine. She couldn't lie to this  woman.
"Say: yes, Mistress."
"Yes, Mistress."
"'Yes Mistress'  what?"
"Yes, Mistress, I like to be a slave."
"Oh God. You can't believe  how awesome it sounds. Say: I am your slave,
Mistress."
"I am your slave,  Mistress."
`Mmmm," she moaned. "Unbelievable. Why didn't I do this  before?"
She saddled Christine again, mounting her waist this time, and  squeezed
the
girl's nipples in her fingers. Christine yelled in pain,  looking at the
woman in
fear" or was it just fear? Suddenly she saw the  whole picture in her mind:
naked
and handcuffed, with a naked woman sitting  on top of her-- the woman she
had just had sex with, the woman she called  "Mistress". It was so wrong on
so many levels, but so exciting at the same time.  She really was this woman'
s slave now.  She was completely in her power,  and she couldn't break free.
Weren't that her exact fantasy coming true? Wasn't  she always dreaming
about being somebody's slave? Yes, but not for another  woman" or did it
really matter? She couldn't answer. She wasn't able to think  straight. She
could only look into her Mistress's eyes, hypnotized and submitted  completely.
"You're my plaything," Miss Westlake said, twisting the girl's  nipples,
kneading
her breasts. "You're my toy, you're my dirty slut, you're  my fucking
female
slave. You're my dirty little slavecunt. Say: I'm your  dirty little
slavecunt,
Mistress."
"I'm your dirty little slavecunt,  Mistress."
"Get up on your feet, slavecunt, I want to inspect you. Now!"  Christine
began to get up from the bed clumsily.
"Faster, you  fuckmeat!"
Her voice scared Christine: this time for real. It was metal. It  was
ruthlessness you only could obey. As fast as she could, Christine stood  beside
the bed, trembling, her stomach twisted in one icy knot. Miss Westlake  was
studying the girl's body, still sitting on the bed, her hand slightly moving
between her legs, the same metal in her eyes as in her voice. Then she
suddenly  sprang up and took Christine to the center of the bedroom. "Stand
still," she  said and then began to slowly walk around the girl, as if examining
her  body.  Christine felt like she was a slave on a market, and despite
her  fear she felt that it was turning her on. Suddenly Miss Westlake slapped
her  naked ass with her hand, and Christina ouched. She winced in pain but
didn't  dare to move. She couldn't disobey the order of her Mistress to
stand  still.
"You're a good piece of meat, slave," she said at last. "I'll make a
good slave
from this nice and tasty meat of yours. You want to be a good  slave, don't
you?"
"Yes, Mistress." She could only agree with this woman. It  was impossible
to do otherwise.
"Say it."
"I want to be a good slave,  Mistress."
Miss Westlake stepped closer and pressed against Christine's body,  holding
her in her arms. Their breasts squeezed against each other. The girl  felt
her landlady's hands moving across her back and her ass.
"I made a  decision, sweetheart," Miss Westlake whispered in the girl's
ear. `You
will  be mine from now on. A hundred percent. I will own your body and
soul.   Every little cell of skin on your beautiful body, every little drop of
juice  from your virgin cunt will be mine. Either that or your pictures are
going  everywhere. And I will make more, I promise. You're going to be my
property. My  own little fucktoy. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress,"
whispered Christine  almost inaudibly.
"From now on only I can have sex with you. No other women,  and especially
no
other men. Only me and my cunt. You can masturbate as much  as you want,
but no
living cock is allowed to enter your pussy. You're going  to stay virgin
until I
decide otherwise. Do you understand me?"
"Yes,  Mistress." Everything this woman was saying was unthinkable.
Unbelievable.
But why was she so aroused with her words?
"Tell me you're going to be my  fucktoy."
"I'm going to be your fucktoy, Mistress."
"And no one else can  have sex with you now, but me."
"No one else can have sex with me but you,  Mistress."
"Do you want this, girl? Do you really want to be my slave and my
property? Tell
me the truth." Christine couldn't tell her the truth. She  didn't know
what was true anymore.
The only truth was this woman's orders,  and that left her no other choice.
"Yes, Mistress," she whispered. "I want to  be your slave and your
property,
Mistress."
"I knew it," Miss Westlake  said and kissed her tenderly. "Of course you
are. And
I will make a good use  of your servitude. Let's go now."
They returned to the bed. Miss Westlake  unlocked Christine's handcuffs and
took them off. Instead she put two wide  leather cuffs on the girl's
wrists, and another pair of cuffs ended up on the  girl's ankles. All those items
came from Christine's own bondage bag, and while  it was good to feel soft
leather instead of metal handcuffs, she didn't have  time to think about it.
The ball gag entered her mouth once more, leather straps  harnessing her
head. Miss Westlake spread-eagled Christine on the bed and began  to tie her
hands and wrists to the bedposts. Soon the gagged girl's limbs were  stretched
so tight that she could barely move. Exposed and helpless, she lay in
front of the woman and could only watch her getting off the bed and dressing  up.
"You don't know how hard it is for me to leave you like this," she said.  "
But I
have to be in another place now, and I'm already late. But don't you
worry, sweetheart. I will return. I want to start training you as soon as
possible. I want to teach you how to please me, and I want to punish you if you
do something wrong. And you won't enjoy these punishments, believe me. I
think  I'll even drop by an adult shop on my way back and buy something for
that. A  whip of some sort.  You ever dreamed about being whipped, sweetheart?"
 Christine shook her head vigorously.
"Oh but you will be. Maybe you'll like  it, too. You didn't want to have
sex with
me either, and look how amazing it  was. I want to see you screaming in
pain, honey. It's too sexy for me to resist.  Oh Christ, I can't believe I didn
't do this before. I want to do so many things  with you, my head is
bursting with them. But don't be afraid, my little toy. If  you do what I want and
be a good slave, I will reward you, I promise. You liked  it when I made
you come, didn't you?" Christine nodded. She would nod even if  she didn't
like it at all.  "Of course you did. And it may be much better.  Think about
it, while I'm away.
Say cheese now."
Miss Westlake took four  of five pictures with her phone. With each click
Christine felt herself more and  more degraded, as if she was an animal in
the zoo. She tried to move her legs a  little bit closer when the woman took a
close-up shot of her pussy, but couldn't  move them even for an inch. Never
in her life she was so restrained and so  helpless. She was trapped. And
this trap didn't have any exits.
"Good girl.  The camera loves you. Now here's my little gift for you,
slave." She
shoved  Christine's vibrator into the girl's pussy. "It will show you how
merciful I can  be. I can even tie it down for you, just like you did. There
you go. That will  do until I come back. Then I'll show you what I can do
with a strap-on dildo:  it's a lot better than this, trust me. If you will
behave, of course. Otherwise  you won't enjoy it at all, trust me." Miss
Westlake rose and went to the door.  There she stopped, turned back and winked
to her prey.
"See you later,  beauty. Don't forget about the pictures I made. And think
about the others I  will make later. We don't want anyone else to know what
a dirty bondage slut you  are, do we?" And with that she was gone. The
front door was shut, and Christine  became alone again. She tried to wriggle out
of her bonds, then tried to call  for help, but all of it was useless. She
didn't go anywhere. She belonged to  this woman (her Mistress!) now, and
they both knew it.
Breathing heavily, her  breasts rising gently, she tried to imagine the
fate that awaited her. Was this  woman really going to make her, Christine, her
own slave?  Was she going to  whip her? "Oh God," she thought, "please,
make it just a bad dream. Please. I  don't want this." But she knew she wasn'
t in charge anymore.  Those  pictures in Miss Westlake's phone enslaved her
more than every rope and  restraint in her bondage bag could. And as if
mocking her, the vibrator in her  pussy kicked in, and she shuddered. It
reminded her that she didn't even control  her sex life anymore" not that she had
any. Her pussy already ached from the  vibration and countless orgasms, but
she knew she couldn't prevent another  one.  Not while she was tied up like
this.
"Am I really a lesbian?"  Christine thought, feeling the familiar warmth
spreading from her groin. "It  can't be. I never even dreamed about this.
But this woman made me come. She  touched me down there, and it felt good when
she did that. Hell, it felt good  even when I licked her pussy off, like a
dog. I just couldn't admit it. Oh God,  this woman is right. I'm such a
dirty slut. And now she's making me her slave.  And I don't have a slightest
choice. I have to become her lesbian slave. Oh my  God. Oh my God, this is so
good" The vibrator in her pussy buzzed relentlessly,  bringing her slowly
to inevitable climax. She moaned in her gag and closed her  eyes, giving
herself away to the power of her restraints, to the power of the  device inside
her pussy. She saw her captors again. They stood around her bed,  talking to
each other. They made remarks about the dirty slut that lay before  them,
they mocked her, while one of them was on top of her, ravaging her pussy
with his big hard cock. But suddenly she saw that he wasn't there anymore. It
was a woman now on top of her. She resembled Miss Westlake but she had a
huge  strap-on dildo on her hips, which went rhythmically in and out of her
pussy and  glistened with her juices.  Christine begged her to stop, but the
woman  didn't stop, and all the men surrounding their bed went quiet, and they
began to  fade on by one, disappearing in thin air, until none of them was
there  anymore.
THE END