by Bryce, A. L.
And where were the gifts? Hadn’t Porsche made it abundantly clear with all her gift giving that she expected some treats too? She’d gotten a new Chanel wallet from Willow but they’d been out shopping together and Porsche had nearly had to bop her over the head with hints to get her to offer to pay for it. She’d also hinted broadly about London, but to no avail. Well, tonight she planned to get Willow lubed up with some fabulous chilled sake and some tasty morsels of sushi, then get back to Willow’s place and unveil a new set of panties and bra she was sure would get Willow hot and horny instantly.
“And here she is now!” said Porsche under her breath as Willow came rushing into the restaurant.
“Baby! Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. The case ran late! You know it’s hard for me to be anywhere by 6!” Willow spewed out all in a rush. She leaned over and gave Porsche a peck on the cheek. “Oh, is this Dry Wave? Yum!” She poured a thimble, replenished Porsche’s, and finally planted her fanny on her chair.
Porsche had removed her shoe earlier and immediately slid a foot up between Willow’s legs and started exploring with her toes. “Oh, I feel a nice little something ... ”
“Porsche!”
“Willow!”
Willow was uncomfortable with these public gropings, but to her chagrin she began to dampen as Porsche slid her big toe in and out of her cunt. A few more thrusts and Willow was sopping wet.
The waitress came over and Porsche stopped moving her foot long enough to order some sushi and tempura, then she began to thrust again. Willow sputtered out a spider roll order, then waved the waitress away, unable to speak anymore, afraid she’d start moaning. She wrapped her hand around her tiny sake glass and gripped it tight. She felt her pussy grab at Porsche’s toe, felt that slippery toe working her lips and slithering up to her clit and then back down and in and out of her cunt. She felt the molten lava sensation of her body releasing more juices, her pussy tightening in anticipation, then releasing to open further to that big fucking toe!
“Fucking shit, Christ, fuck,” she said as quietly as she could. People at the next table glanced her way and then looked away again, mistaking her slight quaking for some kind of congenital tremor. She felt the orgasm rising inside her and slouched in her seat, scooching her ass forward, rocking her hips from side to side, anything to get more of that delicious toe up inside her, that talented toe that worked her. Now on her clit. Wiggle. Wiggle. Now on her lips. Sliding back and forth and oops! In we go! And back out and up to the clit again and wiggle wiggle wiggle. Fuck, yeah, wiggle! She was really shaking now and totally on the verge. Porsche pushed her hips forward in her chair, jamming the toe in deep and then out quickly, up to the clit and rubbing around in circles and Willow erupted. She tried to cough to cover her gasps and moans. Porsche popped her toe in one last little quick jab and then rested her arch against the throbs of Willow’s pussy just as the edamame and seaweed salad arrived.
11
SOPHIA WAS MEETING TOMMY for a drink. She had on a Jil Sander dress and vintage Louboutins and was wearing a hat. She didn’t often wear a hat but she’d found a real vintage straw cloche and she just couldn’t resist. She looked like a 1920’s film star in it and she only wore it when she really wanted to get attention.
As she waited for Tommy to arrive, she thought about when the two of them were at Microsoft. They’d been two women developers in a sea of geek males, gravitating toward each other first because they were female, then because they were lesbians. They’d stayed friends after finding out they liked the same restaurants and made each other laugh. It had taken over a year for Sophia to come out to Tommy as a dominatrix. Tommy had looked serious, nodded her head a few times, then replied, “I always use a strap-on ... I don’t like to be pussy licked but I LOVE to fuck my women! Now, is that enough revealing of personal details for one night? I’d really like to shoot some pool.”
A week later, they’d gone back to Tommy’s place and Sophia had gotten fucked. A week after that, she’d gone and gotten fucked again. Tommy sometimes wore a double-headed dildo and they’d come simultaneously or pretty damn close. Tommy would occasionally eat Sophia out, but usually it was straight to the strap-on and fucking and fucking and fucking. Sophia had a tireless pussy and both enjoyed the raw animal nature of their sexual encounters.
The relationship had never moved past fuck buddies and into something more serious. Tommy dated other woman off and on but wouldn’t commit to anyone. Sophia had her string of subs to minister to. Both found their friendship to be the perfect fit.
Tommy entered the bar and headed over to Sophia. She had on a sleek short wig and hoop earrings. She wore a shiny blue-black raw silk suit, the jacket buttoned and her cleavage spilling out. She was shod in a beautiful pair of heels. Her eyes were Cleopatra’d in blue liner and her large lips wore glossy apple-red stain. She looked incredibly badass.
“Hey, look at you! Miss Mama in her hat!”
“No, look at you! What an incredible suit! Is that a…wig?”
“Hell, yes.”
They laughed and hugged each other quickly.
“It’s stunning,” said Sophia. “Very Josephine Baker.”
The bartender came over and Sophia ordered a Sidecar and Tommy ordered a Perfect Manhattan. She told Sophia, “My Auntie used to make me Perfect Manhattans when she’d come to visit with my Uncle. Every day at 4 o’clock, the three of us would sit in the living room and my Aunt would go over to the portable bar they carried with them when they traveled and she’d fix us these drinks. Those were the best Perfect Manhattans ever! I don’t even know why I order them ... they aren’t ever as good as my Auntie’s.”
“I first heard about Sidecars in some detective novel from the 40’s. They’re a sexy little drink, don’t you think?”
“So, what’s up with you?” Tommy asked when the drinks arrived.
Sophia sighed. “Nothing really. I’m kind of off my game right now. I can’t get interested in my subs. Well, actually ... I can’t get interested in much of anything. I’m in a funk.”
“And what caused this funk? You know you’re going to tell me eventually, so quit hemming and hawing and tell me what happened! Unless you want to wait two or three more drinks and then tell me.”
Sophia told Tommy about the incident with Mrs. Pea.
“Ha, ha, ha. Oh, girl!” Tommy broke into a fit of giggles, jumping off her barstool and grabbing her belly. “Oooh! That is rich. Sweet Jesus. Ooooh!” She wiped the tears from her eyes.
Sophia raised her eyebrows and waited dryly for Tommy to finish.
Tommy sipped her drink and continued to dab at the Cleopatra eyes. Then she burst out laughing all over again. “HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Heeh, heeeh ... Oh, no. Mrs. Pea?”
“Mrs. Pea.”
“OK, OK...forgive me,” Tommy said. “No, on second thought, don’t, because here I go again! Ha ha haaaa!”
“Fine.”
“No, no ... Wait. Give me a sec.”
“No, really it’s fine. You’re right, it’s hilarious.”
“Soph, you know, it kind of is ... but, wait, OK, now, I get that you can’t appreciate the humor of the situation right now because you’re in it.” She took another sip of her drink. “I know this is serious for you. What’re you going to do?”
“What do you mean, what am I going to do?”
“Are you going to hook up with her again? In the bathroom ... with your panties around your ankles?”
“Again with the barrel laughs? I just want to ... hell ... I want to both get over it and get back to my life pre-Pea and I want to ... what? Dive into being a sub? What the fuck is that about?”
“Exactly.” Tommy took a big gulp of her Manhattan and raised her hand to the bartender to indicate another round required.
They both sat in silence for a while.
“I’m surprised. This really seems to have ... derailed you.”
“It has, but you know what? FUCK THAT. I am not the kind of gal that gets derailed by some old lady no matte
r how hot she makes me! I’m getting back on my fucking game!”
“You go.” Tommy sipped daintily at her second Manhattan.
There was more drinking, some dinner, and then more drinking before a cab deposited them outside Tommy’s place.
“Coming in?” Tommy asked as she swayed slightly in the breeze.
“I’m going home to pass out.”
“That sounds just like my plan. Get yourself into that cab then and depart, Mistress S., before he decides to take a fare elsewhere.”
They kissed deeply, then pulled themselves apart, and Sophia got into the cab and slurred out her address.
“Did she call you?” Willow asked.
“Yes! And boy, she sounded ... firm.” Porsche smiled widely.
“Well, it’s about time! Of course, I haven’t missed her so much since we ... ”
Porsche, who was a winker, winked at Willow now over the top of her café latte. “Sophia doesn’t need to know anything about our get-togethers. They’re two separate things really.”
Willow knew that wasn’t true, but she let it pass. She was thrilled to have been ordered to return to Sophia’s on Saturday night. The details had intrigued her. She was told exactly what to wear, when to shower, what perfume and makeup to wear, how to enter the apartment, and what position to take once she arrived. The level of detail and the stern tone of Sophia’s commands made the young lawyer giddy with anticipation.
She glanced at Porsche, who was reading USA Today with latte foam on her upper lip.
She was having fun with her ... wasn’t she? She certainly was coming a lot. But weren’t they supposed to be Sophia’s subs? Besides, when they weren’t fucking what did they have in common? Porsche hated The Wall Street Journal. “Where’s the funnies?” she’d complained. “Where’s the horoscope?” Willow responded to quotes from Shakespeare whispered in her ear, not blow-by-blow accounts from Keeping Up with the Kardashians. And while Willow liked to shop as much as the next gal, Porsche was so materialistic. The girl practically worshipped at the altar of Barney’s. Now Porsche was jeopardizing what Willow wanted most, which was to be dominated by a beautiful woman, her beautiful woman. Her darling Sophia.
Porsche had read the same sentence five times ... Fuck this and fuck Sophia! Willow and I were doing just fine without that distraction! I can be dominant ... I can ... top Sophia!
“I’m heading out now ... um ... I won’t be able to see you tonight ... I want to get ready for Saturday.”
A big smile from Porsche. “No problem, sweetie. I was thinking the same thing.”
Fuck Sophia!
12
IT WAS SATURDAY.
Sophia lay back in her bubble bath, inhaling the scent of tuberose and honeysuckle. She sipped a little Angelica sherry from a tiny hand blown glass and went over the plan for the evening’s festivities. She felt like a woman thrown from a horse who had, until now, been afraid to get back on. Afraid of another big fall, afraid of injury. Now she’d bitch-slapped that horse, ripped off the saddle, and jumped on bareback thrusting spurs into its sides. She was back and back with a vengeance. There would be no distraction tonight. There would be no lack of control. There would be simply the most exquisite BDSM experience of the decade.
She raised up, rinsed off, toweled dry, and spritzed some Bulgari Black onto her breasts and pussy, wrists and neck. She inhaled. Lovely. Divine. Then she went to her lingerie cabinet and rummaged around until she found what she was looking for: an ensemble so feather light, so sheer ... it was like a whisper of fabric in her hands. She cut off the tags, not looking at the price. She remembered keenly what she’d paid for this tiny scrap of cloth and it still made her wince. Worth it. Totally, totally worth it. She slipped into the sheer silk G-string, its small patch at the front encrusted with Swarovski crystals, pearls, and, yes, even tiny diamond chips. The strings around her waist seemed no thicker than a hair, the one up her ass only slightly thicker. She put on the bra, which was of the same sheer fabric, two small triangular patches of silk, and beautiful beadwork that barely covered her nipples. The rest was open string work, crisscrossing her breasts and décolletage, the straps so thin a single snap fastened it in place. She slipped on a pair of vintage stilettos. The beadwork on the shoes mimicked the beadwork on her lingerie perfectly. The shoes were ivory velvet and had never been worn ... not even by Sophia. She’d been keeping them for a very special occasion. Tonight fit the bill. She looked in the mirror.
Totally, totally worth it.
She couldn’t help but thrust her hips forward and back a few times. Sexy underwear did that to her.
She went to the closet and pulled out an ivory silk dress. Long sleeved, high collared, the skirt coming down just below her knees. Stern. Liquid and stern. Just like Sophia.
She was careful with her makeup. Dark eyeliner, a little heavier than her usual, and a dark-red—almost brown—lipstick, then gloss on top. She looked so good she wanted to kiss herself.
She went into the kitchen. Everything was ready.
She went into the living room, the bedroom. All was ready.
She poured herself a glass of Club Soda.
She sipped, and grabbed Future Shock off the shelf, whipped it open to where she’d left off the day before, and began to read.
13
“YOU HAVE TO GET OUT! Now, Porsche! Go!” Willow pushed her busty pal toward the door.
“Really? It’s 2 in the afternoon! We don’t have to be there until 7 ... what the ... ”
“Go! I not only prepare physically but I have to prepare mentally. Don’t you? Now get out!”
“I have to prepare mentally, blah blah blahbettyblah…” Porsche walked out the door without another word.
Willow stood trembling. “This is not working. This is not working. What the hell have I gotten myself into? What am I going to do?”
She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a Blue Moon beer. She popped the top and made sure to put it in the recycle bin, not the regular trash as she’d seen Porsche do. She took a good slug, then another. She never drank before a session with Sophia—it was prohibited—but right now she needed something to gird her loins and the Blue Moon helped.
She sat down on her bed, glancing over at tonight’s required attire, and burst into tears.
Porsche strolled down the street vigorously. Like, first I have to picture myself under my mistress and then I have to picture myself in front of my mistress and then I have to picture myself a PIECE OF SHIT! Tears welled up in her eyes. And then I have to picture myself ... picture ... ooohh. What the fuck does Sophia have that I don’t have? Why can’t she “prepare” for me?
And then Porsche really started to cry as it hit her like a brick truck.
She was in love with Willow.
Ten minutes before 7.
Sophia closed her book, stretched her legs out straight, reached her arms over her head, and yawned like a cat. She glanced around the room, surveying it carefully, verifying that everything was in place.
She went into the bathroom and reapplied her lipstick, then double-checked that all toys were where they should be. Tonight was going to be ... right. It was going to ... she didn’t know how to put it…it was going to put her back where she belonged. Not to her subs, but to herself. She yearned to have her power back and she knew tonight would do it.
On the stroke of 7, she heard a key in the door and then the sound of it softly shutting behind ... whom? Willow or Porsche? Certainly, it was Willow. She’d never be late. Porsche was proving to be a disappointment. She didn’t take this seriously. If she didn’t show marked improvement, tonight would be the last night she would be invited over. There were plenty of subs out there. It wasn’t worth wasting time on a woman who couldn’t follow protocol.
She glanced at the clock. Two minutes after. By now, Willow would be sitting on the new orange chair in the living room, a Flight Recliner from Design Within Reach. She’d once overheard a woman saying, “Design Within Reach? Within reach
for who? RICH FOLKS, that’s who! I can’t even afford the knock-offs!”
For Sophia it was all within reach. And reach she did.
Willow would be straddling the chair, her back straight, each leg thrown over one of the chair’s arms. She’d be open, waiting, her pussy dripping by the time Sophia deigned to enter the room. Her arms would be up over her head, clasping the back of the chair. She’d have on the black hood that had been placed there for her and she’d be wearing a frilly black satin bra and tap pants set. She’d look beautiful.
Seven after. The door opened again and closed rather loudly and then, “Oopsy!”
Porsche had arrived.
14
SOPHIA TAPPED HER TOE and waited. The girl should be getting herself positioned at the dining table. Lying on the dining table, her arms and legs should be spread out a la Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. If she’d done it correctly, there should be a pillow under her hips, raising her pussy for display: her pussy couched in red lace panties with slits front and back. Her nipples should be rouged deep red and peeking up over a cupless red lace bra. A red silk blindfold and black rubber ball gag had been left for her to don. Sophia wondered if Porsche had obeyed her.
Porsche lay splayed out on the dining table. I wonder if she’ll eat sushi off me ... OK, OK, time to drop the sarcasm. I wanted to explore this side of myself ... I need to take this seriously. And, fuck! I am waaay turned on. Where is she?