Loading...Brandye and I had moved back to Philadelphia after a two-year stint in New York City. Moving around was driving me nuts. Every year or two, we moved. Usually it was a huge move, to another city, cutting ties, etc. It had been almost six years now that we’d been together and we’d moved five times. I hated moving. I absolutely hated it. But we had settled into our new apartment, a very spacious two bedroom in a swanky high rise.
The area was nothing to sneeze at, 47th and Pine in University City/West Philadelphia. Close enough to the University of Pennsylvania to be prestigious, close enough to the apartment I lived before while in graduate school to feel familiar. And now, six months later, it was finally beginning to feel like home. I was spending time getting acclimated to my brutal commute to and from work, two hours in each direction, a killer commute if there ever was one. Most of my energy was spent on adjusting to that alone.
Why did we move so often? Well, sometimes it was my job. As an Assistant Professor, you had to go where the work took you. So, first it took me from Philadelphia to New York. Then, I found something in New Jersey. I was tenure track, so most likely I would stay in New Jersey. Other times we moved around when she quit her job (or managed to get fired). I was married to a woman that hated to work. It was an interesting reality for me considering how serious I took my job and how motivated I was to get tenure, securing my job for life. But we never marry those who are just like us, do we? No, not usually.
My wife, Brandye, was an absolutely stunning, half black/half Cherokee very talented, classically trained Opera singer. No work in that field for people of color, hence her frustration with the clerical crap jobs she was forced to occupy because I insisted she work. She was a charmer from the South, the Louisiana bayou area. And she was a real looker. Big bright eyes, thick brows, high cheek bones, nice sensual lips… She used to run track and she has the legs to prove it even as she approached 40. She’s smart, talented, beautiful…you would think she’d be a happy person. She’s not. She’s frustrated that her career didn’t take off. And whenever she gets on the phone with her mother, her mother never fails to remind her that she’s a failure. It’s painful to watch someone you love being tortured by their mother and themselves, but we all have to walk our own paths, right? It just creates a great deal of strain in our relationship, that’s all.
And me? Well, I’m an Ivy League grad twice over who hailed from the housing projects of New York City. An enigma if there ever was one. I remember arguing with one of my graduate school professors who insisted I could not have been raised in the projects because I didn’t speak like “them” or carry myself like “those people.” While it was fun shattering his narrow perception of the people living in housing projects, it reminded me, as I had been reminded over and over in the past few years, that I faced an uphill battle.
Now, I don’t see myself as a looker, although my wife has said to me time and time again “Gloria, I wouldn’t have married an ugly woman.” I have to take her word for it. To me, I’m very plain looking…albeit very different from the average black woman. Don’t get me wrong, I follow the typical script in many ways. I’m thick in the thighs with quite a bit of “junk in my trunk.” I have a pretty small waist but huge tits that were quickly losing the battle with gravity as I approached 35. And my face? I had dark chocolate skin with full lips, a fairly normal nose, huge bright eyes with pupils some said looked black, and perfectly arched thin brows. My hair was cut low, very close to my head and I had a perfectly shaped scalp that had attracted more than my fair share of admirers. I was okay. I wasn’t repulsive but you wouldn’t find me on a magazine cover any time in the near future.
Okay, but I’m not writing about me and my wife. I’m writing about a couple we met after having settled down in Philadelphia for the second time. They lived in our building, a few floors beneath us. We kept bumping into them in the elevator or outside while we walked our dog. Sometimes we were together and would bump into them as a couple, other times we would spot the couple, or part of the couple, when we were alone. Let me describe them. Dyanne was a tall, relatively thin light skinned woman who I could only describe as a soft butch (although that’s not how she described herself). She had long dark dreadlocks, very nicely maintained by the way, and a body she spent hours working on in a gym. She described herself as a Transgendered Gay Male (don’t ask), but she occupied the traditionally feminine role in her relationship. What did I mean by that? She cooked, did most of the cleaning and laundry, did most of the shopping, and she watched their two kids (two huge dogs) more often than her partner did. I found out later she had been in an abusive relationship with a man right before this lesbian relationship. She reminded me of the classic image of a battered woman, even in her current relationship. She was passive, unwilling to rock the boat, and leery of her partner’s temper. When her partner flared up, she would back down and basically try to shrink herself into invisibility to avoid the wrath. Don’t get me wrong, my wife and I also argued. I think any healthy couple argues and sometimes those arguments get a little out of hand. But this relationship was fascinating to watch. I’ve never seen a woman dominate another woman in such a way. It was…intriguing to say the least.
Why was it intriguing to me? Well, wait, let me not get ahead of myself. The other half of that couple’s name was Jaden. Jaden. Hmmm…let’s see. She was cinnamon brown, thick of build with a square frame. She had muscle, that was clear, but she was no bodybuilder. I wouldn’t say she was fat, she was simply…thick. She was a few inches taller than I was, so probably five feet eight inches, her hair was cut very low, but it didn’t hug her scalp as mine did, and she had what I would call masculine features, a square chin and forehead, thick brows, a pug nose…and the most incredible pair of lips.
It wasn’t what was on the outside that intrigued me, it was what was on the inside. Jaden was a pure Domme if I ever saw one. Her choice of profession, a lawyer, only confirmed that observation. And I? I was a truly submissive femme. People often mistook me for a soft butch, as my wife did, because of my haircut. But I’m not. I am a control freak that wants to relinquish control to a woman who can handle taking over the reigns. My wife was not this person. Because she was so unhappy with herself, and because she was an artist, she just didn’t have the head to worry about paying bills on time. In fact, when we met, she was three months behind on her rent! I couldn’t live like that. So, the person who I relinquished control to would have to be very responsible and sure of herself. Jaden was. When she said jump, Dyanne jumped. I’m sure it was because Dyanne was used to being abused, and Dyanne often told us she saw this behavior as abusive. I saw it as absolutely…titillating. And pretty much exactly what I was looking for, unbeknownst to me.
So, this couple is about the oddest encounter my wife and I have ever had. We’d met a couple that was made up of the women we really wanted. My wife wanted a looker who was unquestionably obedient. That was Dyanne. I wanted someone who owned her masculinity and was willing to persuade a woman to relinquish control. That was Jaden.
So, after bumping into each other enough times for us to smile when it happened, my wife finally invited this couple over to our place. Their first words to us? “We are not attracted to you.” Okay, now how odd was that? No one said they were attracted to us. Anyway, it struck us, my wife and I, as odd that they would open with this and then launch into a conversation about their open relationship. Well, what I should say is that Dyanne slept with other women because she claimed Jaden was having some sexual problems. I knew right away the problem was. Dyanne wanted to be an equal in Jaden’s bed and Jaden needed to be in absolute control in the bedroom. Didn’t I tell you I was feeling this woman from day one? So, “open” meant Dyanne slept with other women and Jaden could if she wanted to, but I could see that Jaden grew more and more pissed about sharing her property. Like I said, she was a natural born Domme even if she didn’t know it.
After our first get together, my wife and I decided they were fucking nuts. But I could tell Brandye had an itch for Dyanne. Dyanne was her type, well-bred, well-read, and willing to be wooed by a charmer. And I can admit now that even that early into the game, I really had an itch for Jaden. I had been reading about subs and Dommes for a while, I was obsessed with the idea in fact. But my wife really had a problem owning her dominant side. She thought it made her too masculine. So although I hungered for her to dominate me, she couldn’t (or wouldn’t). But I loved her, so I had swallowed that need.
Jaden wouldn’t have that problem. I thought about that the first night we had them over for dinner and every time we hung out with them thereafter. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes Jaden was so controlling with Dyanne it seemed like abuse. But it was only abuse because Dyanne didn’t want to be controlled. I, on the other hand, didn’t have a problem with Jaden’s take charge attitude and often found myself, the ultimate feminist, defending Jaden to my wife. Even I was surprised about that. Defending a woman who seemed more in touch with her masculine side? I didn’t say it made sense, it just was.
So, we double-dated for a few weeks, getting to know one another, hanging out, taking in movies, an Opera, trying new restaurants, going to concerts. We worked well as double-dates. We had similar backgrounds and similar interests. Dyanne and I often found ourselves teamed up against our partners, considering we were both avid feminists. But there was an underlying sexual tension between the four of us. I’m pretty sure I was not the only one to notice it.
So when did things begin to get weird? How did we go from double-dating to the next stage of this torrid relationship? Well, I had to attend a late meeting on campus and Dyanne had a meeting to attend with one of her grassroots organizations, leaving our two partners to dine alone one night. Things were not the same after that. Brandye was furious when I finally got home. She was annoyed that Jaden claimed she didn’t have any money to pay for dinner. She was annoyed that Jaden had dominated the conversation. And after she rambled on for about an hour, I finally found out what was really bothering my wife. Jaden had admitted, after a few drinks, that she found me attractive. Well, why on God’s green earth did she say that to my wife? My wife is not the most secure person in the world and she hated it when anyone was attracted to me. And surely this would change the nature of the relationship between the four of us. Now, what I didn’t find out until quite some time later was that Brandye had expressed an interest in Dyanne during this dinner. She, of course, neglected to share that tidbit with me.
Anyway, I was secretly pleased that Jaden found me attractive. I thought there was something between us, but I hadn’t been sure. So, when we met as couples for dinner later that week, I couldn’t help but notice how Jaden held doors open for me, not for her partner. I couldn’t help but notice how Jaden took it upon herself to order for me (something I found incredibly arousing for some odd reason). I couldn’t help but notice how Jaden began to charm me, paying special attention to me, making sure I was always part of the conversation, making sure her foot brushed against mine more than one would expect if it was accidental. I was so enamored with this attention that I neglected to notice my wife seducing Dyanne. Seems our partners had made a bet to see who could get the other’s partner into bed first. I tell you, leave two women with a truckload of masculine competition in the same room for a little while and they act just like fucking men. Anyway, swapping was an intriguing idea once I found out about it, but in the midst of it I was seriously aroused and feeling quite guilty for having these feelings for Jaden right under my wife’s nose. My wife and I had a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy about sleeping with other people (well, let me be honest, she had a don’t ask don’t tell policy for herself because she claimed I couldn’t meet her sexual needs, but she didn’t want me sleeping with anyone else). But this was a bit too close to home for that kind of policy, don’t you think? And the truth was that if Jaden really made any serious effort to get me in bed, she would not meet with much resistance.
So this is how things progressed for a few weeks. We would double-date, Jaden would woo me and Brandye would woo Dyanne, and then we would go home where I would have to hear about how inappropriate Jaden had been with me (my wife’s attempt to throw me off her scent). I wish I could complain about that time, but I couldn’t. I was absolutely tickled pink to have a natural born Domme chasing after me. I didn’t care if I was married or not! And when she looked at me with those piercing dark eyes, she and I were alone in the world, even if my wife was sitting at the same table with us.
The next bout of weirdness came a few weeks later. We had opted to order pizza and hang out in our apartment playing cards. Brandye and I were beating Jaden and Dyanne mercilessly. That’s when Jaden suggested we swap partners. Yup, that’s the word she used, “swap.” A tingle ran up my spine, even though I knew it was only about the game we were currently playing. Brandye agreed right away, Dyanne agreed after some coaxing. But first, Brandye wanted to run and get more beer and Dyanne had to make a private phone call from their apartment. That left me and Jaden together. It never occurred to me that Brandye and Jaden had set up some “alone time” with their potential conquests.
So, I began to straighten up a little while we waited. Jaden asked if we had anything stronger to drink. I said I had some vodka and Brandye preferred cognac. Of course she chose the cognac. I must say I actually did pause when she expressed a desire for the cognac, wondering how Brandye would feel when she returned and this woman was drinking some of her very expensive liquor, but Jaden simply watched me with a raised brow. It didn’t take long really, only a few seconds, before I was fetching a brandy snifter for her and pouring a healthy dose of the caramel liquid into it.
She sipped at her drink, a smirk pulling at her lips. I sat across from her nervously. Little did I know I was waiting to please her in whatever way she wanted. She put the glass down on the coffee table and looked at me, her dark piercing eyes drawing me in.
“Did your wife tell you what I told her a few weeks ago?”
She asked, her husky voice washing over me deliciously. I nodded.
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes.”
She smirked again as I responded to her simple command, standing to walk behind the chair I was perched on. She leaned down, her lips close to my ear.
“What did you think of that?”
I swallowed, knowing I would have to use my voice, “I-I’m flattered.”
“Flattered,” she whispered, her breath teasing my ear, “only flattered? How about interested?”
“In you?”
“Yes Gloria, in me. In being with me. I already know you are. Are you afraid to say it?”
“No.”
“Then?”
Okay, this was going into a danger zone rather quickly. I wish I had known about their bet at this time, I would not have suffered as greatly. But then, that was part of their game too, wasn’t it?
“I-I…” yup, it took me two tries, “I-I’m attracted to you.” I breathed out finally.
She was silent for a moment, and then I felt the heat of her tongue as it traced my earlobe. My heart was pounding in my chest, my clit throbbed painfully, but somewhere in my brain the sound of a key sliding into a lock registered. Jaden was sitting in her seat again by the time Brandye joined us. I was a wreck, breathing harshly, feeling overly warm and agitated. If I had been paying closer attention I would have noticed that Dyanne, who had re-joined us also, was just a little more flush than the October air called for.
Nothing more was said. We swapped partners for the game, Dyanne and Brandye won, we retired for the night and then Brandye and I had some pretty intense sex. Of course it was Jaden’s face I saw that night in my bed, not my wife’s beautiful face, but I’m sure that’s what Jaden wanted and I didn’t care to think much about it.
Not much happened for the next few get-togethers. Jaden continued to order for me and engage me in conversation. I was so bowled over by the attention I was getting from her that I was totally clueless about Brandye doing the same with Dyanne. And then it happened. We made plans to double date as usual, but Brandye had to work late and Dyanne had a meeting. So, it was just Jaden and I. I told Brandye I was going to cancel (although I would never confess at that time why), but she insisted I keep the date and have fun. And so, it was Friday night, both our partners were away (and would be for hours), and I was dining alone with Jaden. I was so nervous it took me two complete hours to get ready. And I refused to pay attention to the fact that I trimmed my pubic hair as I primped. I opted to wear a pair of black jeans (that slimmed down my figure a bit) and a cream sweater. When I finally went down to pick up Jaden at her place (I was early as I knew she would be disappointed if I kept her waiting), she told me she was a little tired and would prefer to hang out at her place, maybe watch a movie. I should have said no. Every fiber of my being knew what would probably happen tonight if we hung out at her place. But as she watched me, one brow raised, I just couldn’t say no to her. And I can admit now that some part of me didn’t want to say no.
We ordered pizza and she was the perfect gentlewoman, making sure I had something to drink (she just happened to have my brand of vodka on hand), serving me, starting the movie (an action/adventure, one of my favorites), and, surprisingly, lighting up a joint. The four of us had discussed smoking marijuana before, and we all admitted we smoked it, but we had not done so in front of each other, so this was a first.
The movie had just gotten started when I started to relax. Three shots of vodka and a few hits from a joint would relax me no matter what. Vodka and weed were also a sure fire way to get me hot. Both lowered my inhibitions and the combination not only put me at ease but made me open to suggestion in a way I would never be without the substances. So, when I felt a hand rubbing my back gently, I didn’t tense up. In fact, I enjoyed the sensation of an unfamiliar hand caressing me in such a familiar way. And when she leaned forward and whispered in my ear to remove my bra, I did. I maneuvered the bra from my body in three quick moves and lay it beside me on the sofa. When I felt that hand rubbing my back again, this time beneath my sweater and against my bare flesh, I closed my eyes and sighed. Was it then Jaden knew she had me?
When I opened my eyes because that hand stopped causing those sweet sensations, the television was off. Jaden was watching me, sipping at some amber liquid in a tumbler. She offered the joint to me again and I took a long drag. She raised a brow and continued to watch me for a moment. She polished off the rest of the joint and then stood. When she disappeared into one of the back rooms, I only sat for another minute or two before following her. She didn’t have to ask, I knew she wanted me to follow. In her bedroom (she and Dyanne had separate rooms) she was standing beside a chest of drawers, nursing her drink. I stood in the doorway, not sure what to do next. She put her glass down, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Come here, Gloria.”
I started to walk toward her but Jaden held up a hand to stop me. She then pointed to the carpeted floor. My breath caught in my chest. She wanted me to crawl to her? For that command I had to fight a battle within myself. There was submission and there was submission. As I said before, I was a control freak. I had never crawled for anyone in my life. Never backed away from a fight, never gave up easily…never relinquished control. And now, this woman wanted me to crawl to her. Crawl to demonstrate I was beneath her and she was in control. This was not like removing a bra. This was the beginning of a journey that would only take me further off the beaten track. Was I sure I wanted this? Was I really ready?
I don’t know if it was my conscious decision or the substances floating around in my bloodstream, but I sank to my knees and began to make my way to her on my hands and knees. I moved slowly, wondering what I was doing. Wondering why, with every inch that I covered, I grew more and more aroused. It dawned on me that something was seriously wrong with me. How could I like this? Every feminist fiber of my being should be screaming out against this. But when I saw her hiking boots and the leg of her blue jeans, I was hungry for her approval, hungry for her touch. I stayed there, on my hands and knees, my head bent, waiting for her next command. I would do whatever she wanted, I knew it then.
“Look at me Gloria.”
I swallowed. It was harder than I thought it might be, but I raised my head until I met her eyes. She had a smirk on her face that both unnerved me and fueled my sexual desire.
“Good girl.”
The husky whisper sent a pleasurable pulse right through my system. She put a finger under my chin and brought me to my feet. I stood before her, my body taut, waiting, waiting…waiting for her to touch me. She knew what I wanted, what I needed, but she kept me hungry for it. Her eyes never left mine.
“Take off your jeans.”
I did that without much hesitation, sliding out of them, pleased at the black lace panties I’d worn for her. I watched her eyes comb over the thickness of me. She turned me around and I was forced to swallow whatever self-conscious feelings I had as she took me in from all angles. When she was done, and I was facing her again, she indicated with a simple wave of her finger that she wanted me to remove the sweater. That I did after a heartbeat. I paused because I had already removed my bra and I wasn’t thrilled about the battle my tits were fighting with gravity. Still, I removed the sweater and tossed it on the floor beside my jeans. She nodded and I turned again when she indicated she wanted me to. She stopped me with a hand on my hip when I stood with my back to her. I felt her trace the outline of the tattoo on my left shoulder blade with a fingertip. And then, after a moment, with her tongue.
My knees almost buckled at the contact. The flame she was creating within me with such a simple touch was a bit frightening. I stood, trembling, as she finished tracing the tattoo with her tongue, enjoying the feel of both the wet heat on my back and the controlling feel of her hands at my waist. When she removed her tongue from my flesh, she pressed herself against me. I felt the warmth of her through her clothing, the ripple of muscle as she circled my waist with her arms, the hardness of her nipples pressed into my back that let me know she was aroused. She held me for a while, and then slipped her thumbs into the waistband of my black lace panties, dragging them down toward my feet. I stepped out of them. Now I was naked before her and she turned me around to face her once again. I had a hard time meeting her eyes, but when I tried to lower my chin, she simply raised it again with a strong finger until our eyes met once more.
“You’re beautiful.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t. She smirked again, retrieving her drink and downing it in a swallow. She replaced the glass on the dresser top before speaking again.
“Undress me Gloria.”
I don’t know why but the sound of my name on her lips, mixed with such words, made my clit even harder. I started with her top, unbuttoning the black and blue flannel shirt slowly, removing it from her shoulders. She wore a white wife-beater beneath it and I appreciated the wonderful contrast of it against her golden brown skin. I unbuttoned her jeans next, taking my time with the zipper, and them dragging them down her thick, muscular legs. She wore simple briefs beneath the jeans, but I didn’t care. Everything about her stirred me up in some way, simple or not. I had to kneel to remove her boots but didn’t mind doing so. Within moments she was standing before me in nothing but the white undergarments. Her breasts were relatively nonexistent, so there was nothing but thick, semi-muscular caramel brown flesh to feast on. I loved the meal, absorbing it hungrily. My fingers itched to touch her and from my crouched position at her feet I caressed a nicely shaped calf.
She slapped me then. Hard, right across the face. I don’t know what was more shocking, her strength as she backhanded me or the tears that sprang to my eyes. I landed on my butt and looked up at her, holding my cheek. She knelt before me, snatching up my chin roughly between her thumb and forefinger.
“Don’t touch me unless I give you permission to do so, understand?” She growled softly.
My heart was racing as I nodded. I wondered what I had gotten myself into, but I didn’t fail to notice that my nipples were rock hard and my center wet with hunger. I was even more surprised by my arousal than her rough handling I think. Still, I sat at her feet when she stood, waiting for her next command. Waiting, once again, to bring her pleasure.
She left me sitting on the carpeted floor and moved to the nightstand. I watched as she quickly removed the rest of her clothes and lit another joint. She watched me for another moment, inhaling deeply, that brow raised. I wasn’t sure what she wanted from me so I opted to remain where I was, absolutely still.
“Come here.”
I needed no further instruction this time and crawled to where she stood by the bed. Her intense brown eyes registered some approval as she watched me crawl and I was happy that I had done something right again. She inhaled on the joint again when I was kneeling at her feet. She gently caressed my closely cropped hair, her fingers teasingly stroking my ears and the nape of my neck. I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of her. I was scared at the thought that I was willing to do almost anything to please her.
“Get on the bed, face down.”
Her voice was harsh, devoid of emotion. I could see the steel glint in her eyes again, the same look I saw when she backhanded me. I knew she was about to mistreat me and I grew even more excited at the thought. I did as she asked and was silent as she removed fur lined cuffs from the nightstand drawer. She tied my hands and feet to the bed frame and I closed my eyes tight, trembling just a little at what was in store. I was nude and spread eagle for her, completely under her control. When she slipped a blindfold over my eyes, my breath caught. I don’t like the dark, I’m afraid of it. But for some reason the blindfold only seemed to stimulate my senses further.
I heard some ruffling, had no clue what she was doing, and had barely registered the whistle in the air when something struck the tender flesh of my buttocks. I didn’t cry out, only a whimper made its way past my lips. I tried to register what she was hitting me with. It felt similar to the leather paddle Brandye sometimes used when I begged her to spank me, but thicker, rounder. Another whish of air and the paddle struck again, this time on the back of my thigh. I bit my lip, not sure if she wanted to hear me cry out or not. The strokes were powerful. She was not holding back. If she kept hitting me like this, she would break me in no time.
By the fifth stroke I was shifting in the bonds, trying to have the paddle land where I wanted it to. This only seemed to annoy her and on the next stroke, a harder, heavier stroke than the previous five, I cried out. By the tenth stroke I was sobbing, begging her to stop. By the twentieth, I was babbling and my tears had soaked through the blindfold. I don’t know how many more strokes there were, I lost count. When she was done, I was sweating, panting, and relatively incoherent. But damn if I was hot and bothered. There was sheen of wetness on my inner thighs that did not hail entirely from sweat, and a smell of pure unadulterated lust about the room.
She didn’t touch me for a period of time and I silently thanked her for a chance to regroup. I had never been treated like this before. Brandye never had the heart to hurt me in such a way. I knew my buttocks, thighs and lower back might be bruised and I wasn’t sure how I would explain that to Brandye, but for some reason I didn’t care at the moment. I wanted to feel her against me, wanted her hands on me in some way, and I desperately, desperately, needed to come. I was so aroused I could barely keep still. The minutes dragged on.
I thought she might have left the room. In my current state, I would not have heard her retreating footsteps on the thick carpet. But I heard a noise and then felt a dip in the bed. I felt her move between my thighs and tensed at what was to come. I suddenly felt something cool, smooth and hard against my swollen nether lips. She teased me with it for a little while, rubbing its cool surface against my hot, swollen lips. I heard a click, a faint hum, and then I catapulted into a mind wrenching orgasm. She slid what I now knew to be a vibrator into me, plunging it in and out rapidly. I heard another click, another hum, and felt a second vibrator pressed against my clit. This time I screamed as I came, my feet tugging fruitlessly at the restraints. I could see colors behind my closed lids, bright oranges and reds, and spots of white light. My back arched and I sobbed a bit as she shifted slightly again, moving the vibrator slowly up and down my clit. The third orgasm slammed into me and my fingers clawed at the sheet as a howl was torn from me. I was panting, my head spinning. I felt the bed dip with her weight as she shifted yet again and then I felt her tongue trace along the crack of my ass. I wondered if she had a manual of my erogenous zones as she slathered up my puckered rosebud and then slipped her tongue inside. The fourth orgasm was like a punch in the stomach, it snatched all of the air from me. I feared my heart would stop if she didn’t end her assault on my senses, and yet I didn’t want her to stop. I never wanted her to stop. She was now plunging the vibrator in and out of my sopping wet vaginal canal, rapidly rubbing the second vibrator against my clit, and tongue fucking my ass. I didn’t think I take anymore and was prepared to beg her to stop as the fifth orgasm crashed through me. Then there was black.
I guess I was only out long enough for her to strap on a harness, because she brought me to when she entered me roughly with an oversized dildo. I had no idea how large it was, but it was thicker and longer than anything I’d had in my body previously. I was thrumming with sexual currents and the oversized dildo, which probably should have brought some pain, offered nothing but pleasurable new sensations. Her strokes were long and slow. I couldn’t be sure if that was for my benefit or hers. No matter, she was driving me crazy. She leaned forward and I felt the heat of her mouth near my ear. She traced my earlobe with her tongue and I moaned.
“Are you awake, beautiful?”
I nodded, afraid to trust my voice.
“Good.”
Her hips picked up a little speed and she began to move deeper within me. I felt a twinge of pain when the dildo first brushed up against my uterus, but it was quickly replaced by pleasure when I felt her hands on me, caressing the small of my back, the swell of my buttocks, my overly sensitive inner thighs. She had a steady rhythm now and I could hear the sticky sound of our wet flesh when she came in contact with me. I had never had an orgasm from penetration alone, but something mind shattering was building within me. My body grew more and more tense as she fucked me.
She paused unexpectedly, parted my buttocks and lapped at my puckered hole once again. Then, suddenly, abruptly, she shoved something the size of the Grand Canyon into my ass. I screamed out in pain and panic as my sphincter stretched lewdly to accommodate it before closing around the smaller end of it. She began fucking me again, ignoring my yelps of pain and my pointless attempts to eject the monstrous invader from my ass. Her strokes distracted me from the ache caused by what could only be a rather large butt plug. And when she reached under me to stroke my clit with her knowing fingers, I quickly grew to appreciate the sensations of a full bottom mixed with deep almost painful strokes with an enormous dildo and her expert manipulation of my clit. I was climbing swiftly, making my way toward what I knew would be another out-of-this-world orgasm, when she suddenly removed her fingers, denying me. I whimpered, contemplating begging her to let me come, when I felt the thwack of the paddle on my ass. She offered increasingly painful, yet stimulating, jolts as the paddle brutally met flesh again and again. It was too much, too much, and when she struck me again I exploded with a complete lack of inhibition, not giving a damn who might hear my long, loud heartfelt wail.
She didn’t miss a beat, tossing the paddle aside, grabbing my hips, and fucking me with abandon. I could hear her rushed breath, felt her sweat drip onto my back, and ignored the pain caused by her fingers digging into my flesh. She was using my body now. This was no longer about my pleasure. She wanted to come. I pressed back to meet her stroke for stroke, inciting her, wanting to bring her as much pleasure as she had brought me. Within seconds she swore loudly, her body trembling as she slumped onto my back. Her hips were still pumping slowly as she milked her own orgasm. Her breathing was harsh, her body slick with sweat, and I swore I could hear a purr emitting from deep within her chest.
We lay like that for a few moments until she rolled off me and onto her back. She stood up with a surprising amount of energy, considering the exercise routine she had just put us through, and undid my restraints. She rejoined me then, pulling me to her before covering us with a sheet. Not a word was spoken as I snuggled beside her, listening to her breathing as it slowed to a deep, rhythmic pattern. When I knew she was asleep, I risked shifting just a bit to look up at her face. It was completely relaxed, the square chin and forehead, thick brows, and pug nose beautiful amidst such serenity. And those lips, those incredibly juicy, enticing lips….it shamed me that I could still feel arousal at just the sight of those lips, imagining how they might feel against either pair of my own lips. It was at that moment I realized Jaden had not kissed me. My last thought before I drifted into a restful sleep was that I hoped she would change that for the better soon.
I awoke to the sound of a door closing in some other part of the apartment, and Jaden’s arm tightening around me just a bit. I glanced at the clock on her dresser top, noting it was after midnight. Jaden sat up and pulled on her wife beater and jeans. She winked at me before leaving the room. I heard voices next door and realized she was keeping Dyanne busy. I dressed quickly and left their apartment without making a sound.
I had to go for a walk before I could return to my apartment and slip into bed with Brandye. I was searching for the guilt I knew I should feel, but I couldn’t muster it up. The night had been wonderful. Jaden had taken me places I had never been before, places I knew I wanted to visit again. I was angry that I couldn’t spend the night beside her and then chastised myself for such a thought.
I walked around my neighborhood for about 30 minutes before making my way to my front door. When I entered, I was relieved to find all the lights out. I entered the bedroom as quietly as possible, pleased to see Brandye in bed already. I hurried to the bathroom and locked the door before stripping. As I showered, I played the night over and over in my head until I was so aroused I had to masturbate. Then I shook my head at my behavior. While the night had been momentous, nothing would come of it. Jaden had not asked to see me again. There was no promise we would have a chance to dine alone in the near future. In fact, I was pretty certain the only thing that would come of this night was frustration and restlessness on my part. The thought that I wanted to spend more time with her, wanted her to control me again, angered and shamed me.
I toweled off quickly, shutting off the light before donning a nightshirt and slipping into bed beside Brandye. I wanted to sleep on the pullout sofa, but I didn’t feel like explaining that decision to Brandye in the morning. She stirred when I settled in beside her, turning over to throw an arm around my waist.
“Had a good time?” She asked in a sleepy voice.
If I had been paying attention, I would have heard how contrived the sleepiness was. However, I was lost in my own thoughts.
“Yea, it was nice.”
When she seemed to fall back asleep, I removed her arm and turned over to fall into a restless sleep.
I didn’t see Jaden for two weeks after that night. I was starved for her. I was trying to pretend everything was normal, going to work, paying bills, behaving as a lesbian wife should behave (whatever that means), but I could not get her off my mind. I was also sexing my wife to death trying to release some of my sexual frustration, but that wasn’t working either. I had to stop myself numerous times from simply appearing on Jaden’s door and begging her to fuck me again. I wasn’t winning that battle. So, when Brandye announced we were going on a double date with them, I felt like I had just been declared ‘not guilty’ at a murder trial.
I didn’t care where we were going, I dressed to entice. A pair of slimming black jeans again, black leather boots with 4-inch stiletto heels, and a form fitting black sweater that showed off all the right dimensions. Makeup (which I hardly ever wore) and the juiciest, berry colored lipstick I could find. If Brandye was surprised to see me all gussied up, she didn’t say anything. That alone should have made me wonder, but I didn’t give it a second thought. I needed to see Jaden again. She was all I could think about.
I sat across from Brandye in a booth at one of our favorite haunts and waited for Jaden and Dyanne to arrive. It was a long wait, although I think they were only 10 minutes late. When I saw that black Cadillac Escalade pull into the parking lot, my heart almost leapt out my chest. Dyanne didn’t wait for Jaden to open the car door for her and I mentally wished it was me in that car. I would know to wait. I would know how to make Jaden feel like the Domme she was. But I cleared my mind instead, watching as Jaden’s powerful form made its way from the parking lot to our booth. She was certainly a sight for sore eyes, delicious caramel thickness from head to toe. I took in Dyanne for a moment, realizing she too had gussied herself up, but I was too focused on Jaden to worry about why she looked the way she did.
Jaden sat across from Dyanne, which put her beside me. I didn’t know if anyone other than Jaden saw me shift away from her, remembering her demand that I not touch her without permission. When I felt her hand on my thigh, I relaxed just a bit and enjoyed the feel of our thighs pressed together. Her hand was drawing a lazy circle on my jeans that drove me crazy as we all studied our menus. Again, if I had been paying attention, I would have noticed that Brandye was also missing a hand and Dyanne was wearing a dreamy smile on her face that probably mirrored mine. For the hundredth time, however, I paid no attention to my partner and the chemistry between her and Dyanne. I only had eyes, or maybe I should say I only had a clit, for Jaden at that moment.
We ordered…well Jaden ordered for me and Brandye ordered for Dyanne, and then chatted about the past two weeks. Actually, Jaden and Brandye chatted about the past two weeks, Dyanne and I only responded when asked direct questions. The feel of Jaden’s hand on my thigh was bringing me closer and closer to the edge and I knew I had probably soaked my panties already. I was shifting uncomfortably, wondering how I would get through dinner without begging her to fuck me. When I announced I had to go to the ladies room, Jaden stood to allow me to exit the booth. And then I heard the most beautiful words fall from her lips, “yea, I need to make a pit stop also.”
I could barely walk as she followed me to the bathroom, and I hoped and prayed she would touch me once we were alone. I was desperate for her touch. The two stalls were empty when we entered the bathroom and I watched with bated breath as Jaden locked the door behind us. I stood absolutely still, afraid to disappoint her in any way, and waited. She grabbed my upper arms and slammed me against the locked bathroom door. Her lips were on mine, brutal, hungry…absolutely delicious. It was the first time she’d kissed me, the first time I felt her tongue penetrate and explore. My heart was beating rapidly as she pressed herself against me, forcing the air from my lungs. I remained limp, hands at my side, enjoying the sweet heat of her lips and the weight of her body pressed against me. She needed to have complete control and I needed to give it to her.
Her hands made their way beneath my sweater and unhooked my bra. She cupped my breasts and I gasped at the feel of her hands on my bare, sensitive flesh. She pinched my nipples mercilessly and when I whimpered I could feel a bit of a smirk tug at her lips. She liked to hurt me and for some reason my body responded to the pain she was so inclined to give. One of her hands continued to brutalize a nipple while the other unsnapped my jeans and made its way past the waistband of my panties. She could feel how wet I was when she cupped me and that smirk deepened just a bit. She only had to stroke me a few times before I exploded against her hand, my eyes squeezed shut, the breath stolen from me yet again. She released me before my post-orgasmic tremors ceased and I almost sank to my knees without her weight holding me up. I knew such a quick release would do nothing for my libido as I watched her lick my juices from her fingers. She winked at me, wiped the lipstick from her mouth and washed her hands. I hadn’t gathered the strength to move by the time she was done drying her hands, so she nudged me from in front of the door, unlocked it and left me standing there, my legs still shaky beneath me.
I’m not sure how long I was in that bathroom, trying to pull myself together as I washed my face and reapplied makeup. I wasn’t sure I could face the rest of them and keep a lid on feelings that were running amuck. I grew angry that Jaden would use me in such a way, and then despondent because I wasn’t sure when she’d use me again. Here I was, 33 years old feeling like a teen kissed for the first time. Nothing seemed right anymore. Why was I with Brandye? Should I break up with her? Would Dyanne step aside? I laughed at the pitiful image staring back at me in the mirror, realizing I had no idea if Jaden even wanted me for herself.
The rest of the meal was uneventful. Dyanne and Brandye made their way to the bathroom at one point, but I didn’t care considering Jaden did not lay a hand on me while they were gone. In fact, she and I sat in silence. I was devastated, certain that Jaden did not want me. I didn’t even taste the rest of my meal, or the coffee Jaden ordered for me afterwards.
When we were done, and Jaden paid the bill, I followed the group numbly to the parking lot. Brandye was speaking softly to Jaden and Dyanne was walking silently beside me. When we reached Brandye’s Toyota Avalon, my heart sank. I didn’t want to go home with Brandye.
“Look, we need to stop off at the grocery store, so we’ll see you guys later, okay?”
That was Brandye making an announcement I hadn’t anticipated. “Sweetie, I don’t feel like going to the grocery store.” I had finally found my voice and had no intention of walking around a damn supermarket when my heart was breaking into tiny pieces.
“Well, I need to get some stuff, so maybe I’ll ride with you Brandye?”
At Dyanne’s question my heart stopped. I waited breathlessly to hear what Jaden would say. If Dyanne went with Brandye, would I get to ride back to the apartment building with Jaden? And how long would it take them to shop anyway? Would I actually have a chance to be with Jaden alone tonight?
“I don’t mind taking Gloria back if it’s okay with her.”
I was already nodding before Jaden finished speaking. My entire demeanor had changed. Suddenly I had something to look forward to other than wondering when I would see Jaden again. The arrangements were finalized without me. I was already waiting by the Escalade for Jaden to open the passenger door. She did so minutes later, making sure I was settled before closing the door and making her way around to the driver’s seat. As she turned the key in the ignition, and the powerful engine came to life, she turned to me.
“Look, we need to go somewhere and talk.”
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. I would go anywhere she took me, didn’t she know that already?
She drove to a popular lesbian bar in Center City. It was Wednesday so the place was not crowded. I had been here before so I didn’t bother to look around. She led me to a relatively secluded booth, ordered tequila for me, and then turned to look at me when the waitress disappeared. I was afraid to look into those dark brown penetrating eyes, but I forced myself to. I couldn’t read her expression, and her typical smirk was no where to be found. I was anxiously shredding a paper napkin and she reached over to cover my nervous hands with hers. I heard her sigh.
“Jesus, what have we done?”
I didn’t understand the question so I just continued to stare at her. Now she smirked and I relaxed a little. I didn’t like to see her disturbed about anything, no matter what.
“Gloria,”
She hadn’t said my name in a while and it sent a lightening bolt of arousal straight to my clit.
“Have you noticed anything strange between Brandye and Dyanne lately?”
There were words coming out of her mouth, but I was focused on the heat of her hands covering mine, and the sound of my name on her lips. As if she could tell what I was thinking, she removed her hands.
“Gloria.”
I blinked, tried to pay attention, lost the battle.
“Jesus, you’re really gone, aren’t you?”
She smiled just a little and I didn’t care what she was saying, as long as I brought that smile to her lips. It was pathetic, I know.
“Babe, you have to listen to me. Try to focus, okay?”
Did she just call me ‘babe’? Did I hear that word come out of her mouth in reference to me? I nodded, wanting to please her. I would do anything for her.
“Do you remember that night Brandye and I went to dinner alone?”
I nodded again. I watched her take a deep breath and realized something was bothering her. She released the breath and covered my hands with hers again.
“We made a bet that night about who could get the other’s partner in bed first.”
Okay, that was a bucket of ice water thrown over me. That sentence alone cooled my libido…for the moment anyway.
“What?” I had found my voice again.
“Yea, I knew that would snap you out of it. Two-hundred to the person who could fuck the other’s partner first. We’re at a stalemate. She fucked Dyanne the same night I fucked you.”
Yup, nothing like that kind of news to wake you out of sexual trance.
“What are you talking about?”
The waitress returned with our drinks and Jaden watched as I gulped down my tequila shot, without lime or salt. She ordered another for me as she sipped at a glass of cognac.
“You understood me just fine, Gloria. It was a bet. That’s it.”
“You fucked me like that to win $200?”
She winced just a bit and I was glad to see her show some emotion. What the fuck was going on here?
“Look, it wasn’t like that.”
“No? What was it then?”
“It started out being about the bet,” she started, but she faltered a little. I waited, not letting her off the hook. “But then it got a little out of hand.”
“A little out of hand? Is that what you call it? A little out of hand? You can’t be serious.”
Stupidity was being poured all over me like hot tar. It was sticking to my flesh and it stank something horrible. I wouldn’t be able to wash it away. Not easily anyway. And did she say Brandye was fucking Dyanne? I stood, wondering if I had cab fair in my purse. I think I did. I was sure I had my bank card. The cab could stop at an ATM for me. I had to get out of there. A bet. That night had been worth $200 to her? I felt a little sick to my stomach.
She reached out and grabbed my wrist. I thought to pull away from her, but I didn’t want to, not really. I wanted her to say something to make this all better.
“Sit the fuck down, I’m not finished.”
Okay, I did say I was a natural born sub, right? I follow orders when a Domme gives them, even if I don’t really want to. I sat. The waitress dropped off another shot for me and I downed that one also. Jaden waved her away when she inquired if I wanted another.
“Look, I said it started as a bet. That night was not about $200. Neither was that shit in the bathroom. How could you think that?”
“You just said it was.”
“Just shut up a minute. I said your partner and I were fucking idiots and played a game neither of us thought seriously about. There was chemistry between you and me from the jump, you felt it just like I did. You know who I am and I know who you are. It was stupid for me to play with that. Stupid of me to take you to my bed. Now I can’t think of a fucking thing but you.”
Okay, she was definitely on her way to making things better.
“It’s the same for Dyanne and Brandye. None of us should have crossed the lines we crossed, but now that we have, something has to be done.”
I was still swallowing back the pain she had caused when she told me about the bet, so my brain wasn’t functioning yet. I waited for her suggestion.
“Brandye and I already discussed it. She’s going to tell Dyanne tonight. We want to swap.”
Okay, I had gone from titillation, to devastation, and now to absolute and utter shock. Did she just say she wanted to swap partners? What the fuck was this, some swinger’s party? Jesus. And what was I? Some commodity to be traded at whim?
Yea, you’re right. That outrage didn’t last long. All I had to do was think about how she made me feel that night, how she made me feel in the bathroom just an hour or so ago, how she made me feel in general. It wasn’t a tough decision. And believe me, I could live if Brandye never touched me again. But this time I wanted more details about this ‘swap.’
“Define swap.”
Two simple words that had the world riding on them. This better not be some sordid deal where Brandye gets me for a week and then Jaden gets me the next week. She better have something more impressive to say…as if I would turn down anything she had to say. I was humiliated by that thought.
“You’ll be with me. Move downstairs, we’ll change the leases. You’d be mine.”
You’d be mine. I’d waited for those words. Wanted so desperately to hear them. Prayed she would utter them. Now that she had, what would I do? Would I allow myself to be exchanged like this? Bargained for? Bought for $200? Is that what I wanted? I was an Ivy League graduate, a college professor damnit. I had parents who loved me, lots of friends. Would it come down to someone owning me? Controlling me? Dominating me? Is that what I wanted? Could that be what I really wanted?
Fuck yes!