FF/F
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental. Author retains all rights.
That said, we only write what we know, however distantly.
This is the bulk of the story, and I have the rest firmly in mind. Unfortunately, keyboard fatigue is setting in. I'm spending almost as much time fixing typos as I am making sense, if I am making sense. You'll let me know, I hope.
Re EDIT: The first few blocks are exchanges of dialogue and readable enough as is. Later, though, at least half of the story runs outside of quotation marks. The text is denser and the paragraphs need whitespace.
But still, there is indeed such a thing as too much whitespace.
"There were supposed to be two of you." Her "chauffeur" was a big woman, tall and broad through the shoulders. Lyssa approved. Julia, the statuesque domme awaiting her in Manhattan, could hardly be bigger. Nor would she have the military and martial arts training her bodyguard carried on her resume.
"He had a family emergency. I knew your phone would be turned off while you were on the plane, but I left a voicemail."
"So do I go ahead?"
"These aren't violent people. You'll want me in the room during the recording."
"Since you signed the confidentiality agreement. You do remember --"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You'd feel a little edgy, too."
"I'd feel a lot edgy, Ms. --"
"I'm Lyssa."
"I'm Summer."
Lyssa jerked her wrist from the gentle grasp of the domme. She folded her arms over her naked breasts and shivered in the blanketing warmth of the studio. Her shoulders slipped in a film of sweat on the oiled leather of the modified massage table to which Julia had already pinned her ankles.
Julia moved around to her side and smiled down on her. "I'll say it again. You don't have to do this. I've never forced anyone into the restraints."
"Oh, no! I watched you! I saw what you did! To Erin, to Cali, to Marie! I saw it, all of it!"
"Over and over, little girl?"
Lyssa flushed, her small white breasts, round as some perfect fruit, reddened as deeply as her face. The fluttering sensation that had slowly filled her belly grew larger and larger, and lower.
The domme laid her long, fine-boned hand on Lyssa's belly, as though to still her slow, involuntary grinding. "Yes, once you take the restraints, you're mine. You can beg," Julia smiled suddenly, broadly, "'cause it's my job to make you. But not until you accept the restraints."
"I ... I can't ..."
"Do you want help? Need my help?"
Lyssa bit her lip. She nodded, two, and only two, quick dips of her chin.
"If you cramp, say the safeword."
"Red," Lyssa murmured. Twice, it had slowed that belly-deep fluttering. But she had worn the fuzz off of the word, and it was no longer any comfort at all.
From the head of the table, Julia reached with both hands and took her right wrist in an iron-velvet grip. The domme's dark fingers on her tanned skin looked like a leather cuff. Lyssa pulled away so sharply that her hand thumped against her breastbone.
"No!" Julia's voice was weighted with distress. "Did you hurt yourself?"
"Not really," she responded in her smallest voice.
"Mmmm. Are you positive you still want to go ahead?"
"Yes," in almost a whisper.
"Okay, we'll try another way." Julia's hands closed over her shoulders, and Lyssa flinched so hard that her shoulder blades cleared the padding for a second. But Julia only kneaded the cable-tight muscles, probing at the knots, gradually loosening the strained fibers.
Slowly and thoroughly, the warmth of the room worked its way into Lyssa's flesh. The tension, and the slight constant pain of tension, ebbed from her bones, her muscles, her skin. She followed its outward flow and the encroaching sleepiness trailing behind it.
Her head lolled to one side and she saw her bodyguard, seemingly reading a magazine. Good, Lyssa thought, until Summer's eyes flipped upward for a moment, then back to her magazine, then, almost guiltily, to catch Lyssa's gaze. Gotcha. Lyssa smiled lazily as Julia took her arm and drew it gently over her head. The terry cloth band around her wrist compressed slightly, and Julia closed the buckle and tucked away the strap.
"Tha-at's better," Julia crooned. She took Lyssa's right arm, breaking her eye contact with Summer. Again, Lyssa jerked her arm to her ribcage. "What we have here ... I need some help to do this gently. Summer?"
Summer's head flew up so suddenly that Lyssa heard the vertebrae pop.
"I need your help here, Summer. Is that okay with you, Lyssa?"
Lyssa waited, and Summer again locked eyes with her. Lyssa nodded, tried to say, "Sure" but the word dropped voiceless from her lips. Summer's knuckles whitened against the covers of her magazine.
"It's okay, Summer." Julia's voice was brisk, energizing. "Most of us in this room are amateurs, you know."
Summer nodded. Slowly, failing to conceal her tremors, Summer stood and shed her black chauffeur's cap and jacket.
"It suits you beautifully, your name." Julia nodded as the jacket slipped from Summer's arms to the seat of the armchair behind her. Freed from the cap, her hair was a shoulder length curtain of pale gold.
She might be twenty-two, even. Lyssa had seen that complexion. Her nipples would be pale, almost unreal. She felt a thrill of fear, then assured herself, she knows who's paying her.
"Comfortable?," Julia asked the bodyguard.
"Not as much as you."
"Well, I only have the one leather bikini. But you can kick off your shoes."
"Thank you, Lord!"
"That's 'Lady' to you, thank you. Now come over to the side of the Grappler."
Summer smiled at the quip and did as she was told. "Grappler?"
"A pet name. I worked a long time on this table."
"Don't want it to break, um?"
Julia paused, gestured for Summer to lean in, whispered in her ear. The sunny blonde giggled, laughed aloud.
"Now," Julia ordered, "take Lyssa's arm by the elbow. Don't bend the shoulder joint, rotate it."
The backs of her fingers worked against Lyssa's ribs as she forced her palm against the smaller
woman's elbow. Lyssa let out a squeaky laugh.
"Oh," Summer exclaimed, "I'm so sorry!"
Lyssa saw that Julia heard the lie and knew it. Her bodyguard had switched sides.
Involuntary, Lyssa resisted. Outmuscled, she yielded.
As Julia secured Lyssa's left wrist and strode to the foot of the Grappler, Summer bent and
whispered, "She said, 'Only the girls I strap into it.'"
With the incredibly gentle touch of a woman confident of her control, Julia laid her warm hands on the tops of Lyssa's rounded feet. "You don't mind, Lyssa, if I ask Summer for some more of her help? If I should need it."
A sense of inevitability filled Lyssa's heart. She relaxed, suddenly exhausted in all but her body. "It's all good, Julia."
Julia's short, sharp nails had somehow crept around to her soles. Only in the moment did she realize, as Julia's fingers seemed to vibrate into motion, that the torture would not soon cease.
"That wasn't five minutes." Lyssa tried to shorten her neck, turtle-like. Summer's whisper in her ear tickled more than all of the agonizing scratching and digging Julia had devoted to her feet.
Julia had gotten her with the changeup, using her tongue to soothe and loosen Lyssa's tendons, then her thumbs in circular motions that slid the nerves over the bones and lit them like the fuse on a cartoon stick of dynamite. Lyssa worked to regain her breath. Sweat pooled in the indentations in the oiled leather under her buttocks. Her g-string had crept down her belly.
"Good, Lyssa. So strong, Lyssa," Julia crooned, low and sweet. Lyssa opened her eyes as Julia cupped her cheek. "No safeword? Tough girl, goo-ood Lyssa."
Safeword. Oh, now I remember ... Lyssa closed her eyes. Julia's hand patted her cheek.
"I'll be right back."
Lyssa tried to nod, spared herself. For a long, luxurious moment, she felt nothing but Summer's hands on her shoulders, hands not so much holding her down, but guiding her and keeping her in the center of the table. Caring hands, she decided.
"Here we go!"
Lyssa's eye's flew open at the sound of Julia's voice. She saw a thick white towel fly through the air above her. Then Summer was swabbing at the pooled sweat in which she almost floated. Suddenly all too aware, she quailed. "E-ew-w-w. Ugh!"
"Now, Lyssa," Julia admonished, "fresh sweat doesn't stink. Yours is almost sweet!" She tweaked Lyssa on her side. When the lean dark-haired girl squealed and stretched away to the limit of her bound limbs, Julia thanked her and began toweling the leather.
"All you had to do was ask!" she groused.
"Not while I have the cameras running. I have a reputation, you know."
"That isn't the half!"
"Little girl, you don't yet know the half. Water?"
"I didn't mean to work you so hard." Lyssa's eyes flew open in amazement. "I think this will fit."
Summer smiled. "I didn't think I'd have to work so hard. She's so strong for such a little thing."
"Oh, I'm a horse, and you're not pocket-sized. She's not tiny."
Summer hung one scrap of cloth over her left arm, spread the other between her raised hands. "A denim bikini!"
"I haven't worn it in a year and a half. If you like it, it's yours."
"I'll give you a few bucks for it."
"Don't be silly. Do hurry. She's cooling off."
"Oh, no!"
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental. Author retains all rights.
That said, we only write what we know, however distantly.
This is the bulk of the story, and I have the rest firmly in mind. Unfortunately, keyboard fatigue is setting in. I'm spending almost as much time fixing typos as I am making sense, if I am making sense. You'll let me know, I hope.
Re EDIT: The first few blocks are exchanges of dialogue and readable enough as is. Later, though, at least half of the story runs outside of quotation marks. The text is denser and the paragraphs need whitespace.
But still, there is indeed such a thing as too much whitespace.
AMATEUR VENUE
"There were supposed to be two of you." Her "chauffeur" was a big woman, tall and broad through the shoulders. Lyssa approved. Julia, the statuesque domme awaiting her in Manhattan, could hardly be bigger. Nor would she have the military and martial arts training her bodyguard carried on her resume.
"He had a family emergency. I knew your phone would be turned off while you were on the plane, but I left a voicemail."
"So do I go ahead?"
"These aren't violent people. You'll want me in the room during the recording."
"Since you signed the confidentiality agreement. You do remember --"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You'd feel a little edgy, too."
"I'd feel a lot edgy, Ms. --"
"I'm Lyssa."
"I'm Summer."
Lyssa jerked her wrist from the gentle grasp of the domme. She folded her arms over her naked breasts and shivered in the blanketing warmth of the studio. Her shoulders slipped in a film of sweat on the oiled leather of the modified massage table to which Julia had already pinned her ankles.
Julia moved around to her side and smiled down on her. "I'll say it again. You don't have to do this. I've never forced anyone into the restraints."
"Oh, no! I watched you! I saw what you did! To Erin, to Cali, to Marie! I saw it, all of it!"
"Over and over, little girl?"
Lyssa flushed, her small white breasts, round as some perfect fruit, reddened as deeply as her face. The fluttering sensation that had slowly filled her belly grew larger and larger, and lower.
The domme laid her long, fine-boned hand on Lyssa's belly, as though to still her slow, involuntary grinding. "Yes, once you take the restraints, you're mine. You can beg," Julia smiled suddenly, broadly, "'cause it's my job to make you. But not until you accept the restraints."
"I ... I can't ..."
"Do you want help? Need my help?"
Lyssa bit her lip. She nodded, two, and only two, quick dips of her chin.
"If you cramp, say the safeword."
"Red," Lyssa murmured. Twice, it had slowed that belly-deep fluttering. But she had worn the fuzz off of the word, and it was no longer any comfort at all.
From the head of the table, Julia reached with both hands and took her right wrist in an iron-velvet grip. The domme's dark fingers on her tanned skin looked like a leather cuff. Lyssa pulled away so sharply that her hand thumped against her breastbone.
"No!" Julia's voice was weighted with distress. "Did you hurt yourself?"
"Not really," she responded in her smallest voice.
"Mmmm. Are you positive you still want to go ahead?"
"Yes," in almost a whisper.
"Okay, we'll try another way." Julia's hands closed over her shoulders, and Lyssa flinched so hard that her shoulder blades cleared the padding for a second. But Julia only kneaded the cable-tight muscles, probing at the knots, gradually loosening the strained fibers.
Slowly and thoroughly, the warmth of the room worked its way into Lyssa's flesh. The tension, and the slight constant pain of tension, ebbed from her bones, her muscles, her skin. She followed its outward flow and the encroaching sleepiness trailing behind it.
Her head lolled to one side and she saw her bodyguard, seemingly reading a magazine. Good, Lyssa thought, until Summer's eyes flipped upward for a moment, then back to her magazine, then, almost guiltily, to catch Lyssa's gaze. Gotcha. Lyssa smiled lazily as Julia took her arm and drew it gently over her head. The terry cloth band around her wrist compressed slightly, and Julia closed the buckle and tucked away the strap.
"Tha-at's better," Julia crooned. She took Lyssa's right arm, breaking her eye contact with Summer. Again, Lyssa jerked her arm to her ribcage. "What we have here ... I need some help to do this gently. Summer?"
Summer's head flew up so suddenly that Lyssa heard the vertebrae pop.
"I need your help here, Summer. Is that okay with you, Lyssa?"
Lyssa waited, and Summer again locked eyes with her. Lyssa nodded, tried to say, "Sure" but the word dropped voiceless from her lips. Summer's knuckles whitened against the covers of her magazine.
"It's okay, Summer." Julia's voice was brisk, energizing. "Most of us in this room are amateurs, you know."
Summer nodded. Slowly, failing to conceal her tremors, Summer stood and shed her black chauffeur's cap and jacket.
"It suits you beautifully, your name." Julia nodded as the jacket slipped from Summer's arms to the seat of the armchair behind her. Freed from the cap, her hair was a shoulder length curtain of pale gold.
She might be twenty-two, even. Lyssa had seen that complexion. Her nipples would be pale, almost unreal. She felt a thrill of fear, then assured herself, she knows who's paying her.
"Comfortable?," Julia asked the bodyguard.
"Not as much as you."
"Well, I only have the one leather bikini. But you can kick off your shoes."
"Thank you, Lord!"
"That's 'Lady' to you, thank you. Now come over to the side of the Grappler."
Summer smiled at the quip and did as she was told. "Grappler?"
"A pet name. I worked a long time on this table."
"Don't want it to break, um?"
Julia paused, gestured for Summer to lean in, whispered in her ear. The sunny blonde giggled, laughed aloud.
"Now," Julia ordered, "take Lyssa's arm by the elbow. Don't bend the shoulder joint, rotate it."
The backs of her fingers worked against Lyssa's ribs as she forced her palm against the smaller
woman's elbow. Lyssa let out a squeaky laugh.
"Oh," Summer exclaimed, "I'm so sorry!"
Lyssa saw that Julia heard the lie and knew it. Her bodyguard had switched sides.
Involuntary, Lyssa resisted. Outmuscled, she yielded.
As Julia secured Lyssa's left wrist and strode to the foot of the Grappler, Summer bent and
whispered, "She said, 'Only the girls I strap into it.'"
With the incredibly gentle touch of a woman confident of her control, Julia laid her warm hands on the tops of Lyssa's rounded feet. "You don't mind, Lyssa, if I ask Summer for some more of her help? If I should need it."
A sense of inevitability filled Lyssa's heart. She relaxed, suddenly exhausted in all but her body. "It's all good, Julia."
Julia's short, sharp nails had somehow crept around to her soles. Only in the moment did she realize, as Julia's fingers seemed to vibrate into motion, that the torture would not soon cease.
"That wasn't five minutes." Lyssa tried to shorten her neck, turtle-like. Summer's whisper in her ear tickled more than all of the agonizing scratching and digging Julia had devoted to her feet.
Julia had gotten her with the changeup, using her tongue to soothe and loosen Lyssa's tendons, then her thumbs in circular motions that slid the nerves over the bones and lit them like the fuse on a cartoon stick of dynamite. Lyssa worked to regain her breath. Sweat pooled in the indentations in the oiled leather under her buttocks. Her g-string had crept down her belly.
"Good, Lyssa. So strong, Lyssa," Julia crooned, low and sweet. Lyssa opened her eyes as Julia cupped her cheek. "No safeword? Tough girl, goo-ood Lyssa."
Safeword. Oh, now I remember ... Lyssa closed her eyes. Julia's hand patted her cheek.
"I'll be right back."
Lyssa tried to nod, spared herself. For a long, luxurious moment, she felt nothing but Summer's hands on her shoulders, hands not so much holding her down, but guiding her and keeping her in the center of the table. Caring hands, she decided.
"Here we go!"
Lyssa's eye's flew open at the sound of Julia's voice. She saw a thick white towel fly through the air above her. Then Summer was swabbing at the pooled sweat in which she almost floated. Suddenly all too aware, she quailed. "E-ew-w-w. Ugh!"
"Now, Lyssa," Julia admonished, "fresh sweat doesn't stink. Yours is almost sweet!" She tweaked Lyssa on her side. When the lean dark-haired girl squealed and stretched away to the limit of her bound limbs, Julia thanked her and began toweling the leather.
"All you had to do was ask!" she groused.
"Not while I have the cameras running. I have a reputation, you know."
"That isn't the half!"
"Little girl, you don't yet know the half. Water?"
"I didn't mean to work you so hard." Lyssa's eyes flew open in amazement. "I think this will fit."
Summer smiled. "I didn't think I'd have to work so hard. She's so strong for such a little thing."
"Oh, I'm a horse, and you're not pocket-sized. She's not tiny."
Summer hung one scrap of cloth over her left arm, spread the other between her raised hands. "A denim bikini!"
"I haven't worn it in a year and a half. If you like it, it's yours."
"I'll give you a few bucks for it."
"Don't be silly. Do hurry. She's cooling off."
"Oh, no!"
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