Put Me In a Skirt and Hurt Me: The Strictly Lesbian Adventures of Mistress Sophia

by Bryce, A. L.

  Sophia croaked out, “May I come in?” Unbelievable! Did she really just request permission to enter the restaurant? Fuck.

  Then she saw that Mrs. Pea wasn’t alone. She was with a young Asian man, who now murmured something to Mrs. Pea in Japanese. Mrs. Pea responded and then rose.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay, Sophia, dear. I’m in the middle of my meal and I really don’t want to have you here staring at me with your mouth hanging open. Go to another Monsieur Sushi—heaven knows there are enough of them.” And with that, Mrs. Pea turned back to her friend, conversing in what appeared to be fluent Japanese.

  Sophia turned and left the restaurant. She scurried away like a scolded child, finding herself three blocks from the restaurant before the pain in her calves reminded her of her Weitzman’s.

  Oh, fuck! She turned and hailed a taxi and gave the address for another Monsieur Sushi, just as Mrs. Pea had ordered.

  She sat at a small table and ordered the same sashimi she had seen Mrs. Pea eating. She placed it on her tongue in that same way, feeling the fish as it lay flat on her tongue, with all of her taste buds feeling it too. Then she chewed and swallowed and did it again.

  Hmmmm. That look. She smiled. She has that cold smoldery look down pat! I was as helpless as the fish on that sushi chef’s cutting board. She continued to dissect the incident. Pondering each nuance, each word, each look, each gesture. Which ones had turned her on and how she might be able to use some of what she’d seen on her own subs. Oh, great, now I’m old Mrs. Pea’s sub! She smiled again. There’s got to be a way for me to play this game and win. Just like with Willow, even though Willow is my sub, sometimes she controls the play, whether she knows it or not. How can I be subservient to Mrs. Pea and still be in control? Is such a thing possible?

  She ordered more sushi and a bottle of cold unfiltered sake.

  24

  THREE NIGHTS LATER (and for the third night in a row) at the stroke of midnight, the doorbell rang. Mistress Sophia led Willow by the hand to the bathroom and stood her there in the center of the room. She took a small key from a sterling silver chain around her neck and placed it on the counter.

  “Take off your skirt.”

  Willow reached around and unbuttoned and then unzipped her Givenchy Punto Milano pencil skirt and let it slowly slink down her legs and bunch up at her feet.

  “Step forward and kick that thing out of the way.”

  Willow did as she was told.

  “Now the shoes and thigh-highs.”

  Willow balanced on one foot—something she’d had to practice given the height of most of her shoes—and removed first one, then the other Pierre Hardy Patchwork Bootie. She slid them over to where she had kicked her skirt. Then she began to peel back her thigh-highs.

  “You’re wasting my precious time.”

  Willow moved faster, rolling down the left, then the right thigh-high, and tossing them over to the pile with her shoes and skirt.

  “Come to me.”

  Willow stood in front of Mistress Sophia. Their eyes met and held. Without looking down, Mistress Sophia took the key and inserted it in the chastity belt lock. At the sound of the click, Willow couldn’t help but let out a little gasp. The belt was such a turn-on she’d come several times just from wearing it today without even having to touch herself. She’d had a hell of a time focusing on her trial cases, focusing on conversations, just plain focusing. The belt was a constant stimulant, driving her to distraction—lovely, luscious, wet distraction.

  Sophia took the belt and dropped it on a hand towel next to the sink.

  “Wash it.”

  Willow got to work, using some delicious plumeria liquid soap to wash her chastity belt. She then rinsed it thoroughly and dried it, first with a fresh hand towel and then with a blow dryer.

  “Now, yourself. Quickly. I don’t have all night to waste watching you,” Sophia said, taking in every inch of Willow, feeling that glow in the pit of her stomach, wanting to touch her, but knowing that, at this stage, it would not be the right move to make.

  Willow let the hottest water she could stand soak a washcloth. She wrung it out quickly, squirted a few drops of the plumeria soap on it, and placed it between her legs, enjoying the feel of the plushy hot cloth against her lips and clit. She stroked herself with it, afraid she was about to come, and wanting to. But without permission to do so, it would be awful to do that now, wonderful and awful and a terrible offense to her mistress. She thought of dying children in India as she moved the cloth back and forth between her legs. Cleft palate children, underarm stains, dogs in small cages…anything to keep her in check. She rinsed out the cloth and took a new one from the stack. Mistress insisted the ass and the cunt receive separate cloths. The new cloth was applied to her thighs and then her ass and finally up and down in the crack. Willow had learned to breathe deeply, imagine the death of Bambi in the forest, to keep from moaning in ecstasy.

  Mistress Sophia had to hide her smile from her sub. She enjoyed these nightly sessions almost as much as Willow did. “Are you going to be all night?”

  “I’m done, Mistress.”

  “Come here.”

  Willow returned to stand before her mistress and be locked back into the chastity belt. She felt so lucky. So happy. Her mistress cared so deeply for her. What more could a girl ask for? Well, maybe to be turned over her mistress’s knee…but not much more. Not much more.

  25

  PORSCHE PUSHED HER FACE into the side of the building, tears mingling with the grime of the bricks. She sobbed, choked, took a deep breath and pulled herself together, wondered if she should walk back to Starbucks and beg for her job back, realized that wasn’t going to happen and that she’d just lost her job, another job, and began to sob again. She felt a hand on her shoulder as a voice said, “Are you all right? Do you need me to call the police or ... someone?”

  Porsche shrugged off the hand roughly. “Go away!”

  “Oh. Well, then. So, you’re OK?”

  “Do I fucking look OK?” Porsche wailed.

  “Oh, well, no. No. That’s why I stopped I mean ... well ... can I help in some way?”

  “Oh, great! Another fucking goodie two shoes may I help you may I help you? Fuck.”

  Porsche turned ready to spew venom and looked into the soft blue eyes of a nun.

  “You fuuuu ... ” The breath went out of her.

  “Kleenex?” asked the nun.

  “Yeah, OK.”

  “Rough day?”

  “To put it mildly.”

  “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  They entered the coffee shop and sat in a booth. The nun took Porsche’s hand and looked into her eyes.

  “God meant for me to find you. You may not believe it and that’s fine. But God wanted us to meet. He led me down that street to find you. He placed you there at the very moment I would be passing. There’s a reason He did it. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m sure it’s divine intervention. I’m Sister Alice.”

  Porsche felt trapped inside an episode of Twin Peaks.

  “Jane. Doe,” she said.

  “I see. Well, fine, Jane. It’s good to meet you.”

  Porsche withdrew her hand from under the nun’s and fiddled with a packet of sugar. Sister Alice sat in stillness and silence. The coffee arrived. Sister Alice picked up her mug and blew on the surface of her coffee then took a noisy sip. Porsche tore the top off a creamer and poured it into her mug, followed by four more. Then she took 3 sugar packets and added those as well. She picked up her mug and took a swallow.

  Fuck, if I’ll blow on my coffee. Pussy nun.

  When her cup was half empty, Porsche stood. “Thanks for the coffee, Sister.” She headed for the door.

  “Jane!”

  Porsche turned around.

  Sister Alice rushed over to Porsche.

  “ I don’t really have a chance to talk to anyone much about anything other than ... spiritual things. I’d love to have a conv
ersation about politics or who’s winning on Survivor or fashion or ... ”

  “Fashion? You really want to talk about fashion?”

  “Did you see what Dior put out on the runway last week? Dreadful! He should be ashamed!”

  “Oh, my God, it was like ... CRAP!”

  They returned to the booth.

  An hour and three more cups of coffee later, both women were giggling and blasting or worshipping every designer they could think of.

  “Jane, this has been great! I mean, I love my life as a nun, but sometimes, well, sometimes it’s ...

  “Porsche.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Porsche. Not Jane.”

  “Oh. OK, Porsche. Can we meet again?”

  “Sure.”

  “Here’s the phone number at the convent. Sister Alice withdrew a business card from her purse and handed it to Porsche.

  “Uh, I hate to ask, but could you lend me $10 for taxi fare?

  “Oh ... sure.” Sister Alice dug in her purse once more, pulling out a tenner.

  Porsche took the ten spot and stood up.

  Back at her apartment Porsche leaned back in her bed and stretched her naked body out. She fired up the joint that she’d bought with the nun’s $10 and sucked in hard. In her other hand was the Lelo. She flipped the switch, took another drag, and pictured herself with Sister Alice in a very compromising position.

  26

  SOPHIA PLAYED THE MESSAGE for the eighteenth time.

  “It’s Mrs. Pea, dear. I will be at Happy Betty’s at 5:30 on Thursday.”

  Sophia wouldn’t be late this time. It was time to see how this game would be played.

  She’d like to wallow all day in the details of the upcoming meeting, but she had other things to tend to. Willow was still in the chastity belt and it had now been several days. It was time to have her over and remove the belt for good. She put in a quick call and set up a session for that evening. She was looking forward to it. Hearing from Mrs. Pea had sexed her up and she needed a good release.

  She’d decided to fuck Willow with the double dildo.

  She went into the bedroom and stripped the bed, replacing her 800-thread count cotton with black rubber sheets. She pulled out the industrial bottle of lube and filled a four-ounce bottle to the brim. She rummaged around in the dildo drawer for the blue Feeldoe Slim and her favorite harness. She would slip the four-inch end inside and fuck Willow with the seven-inch cock-replica end. She rarely used the bullet vibe feature. She preferred to draw things out and too much stimulation shortened the play. She grabbed some nice fluffy hand towels out of the cupboard and placed them on the nightstand. Her underwear drawer offered several enticing options. She chose black leather pasties. Since she’d be wearing a harness tonight there’d be no need for panties. Black thigh-high fetish boots with five-inch heels rounded out the look. She laid it all out on the bed.

  She went into the kitchen and poured a bowl of Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes. It was one of her many guilty pleasures, like the sweatpants and sweatshirt and her Sudoku addiction. Dommes, like vampires, had a certain aura to portray and Frosted Flakes really didn’t fit into that. She opened the fridge and looked around. Damn! Out of regular and almond milk. She grabbed the half-and-half and shook the container gently, then poured some over her flakes. She sat at the dining table, reading the morning paper and munching away.

  Willow presented her closing arguments, won the case, and threw her paperwork into her briefcase.

  She left for her place directly from the courthouse. After showering and applying powder under her breasts and arms, she spritzed herself with a little Chanel Number 5, wiggled into a mesh long-sleeved scoop neck top and a black Versace pencil skirt, topping it off with a pair of Manolos. No bra, no underwear—just the chastity belt.

  She wore the same Chinese style coat that she wore last time and headed for Mistress Sophia’s.

  Sophia greeted her at the door, and as before had her drop her coat to reveal the pleasures beneath it. She sent Willow to the bedroom with instructions while she retreated to the living room for a drink and to read a bit. After forty-five minutes or so, Sophia strolled back to the bedroom.

  Willow straddled a straight-back chair facing backward so her back was fully exposed. She’d taken off the top and skirt. Sophia pulled a mini flogger out of a drawer and began to stroke Willow softly with it. She shivered with each pass of the leather strands on her back. The strokes became stronger and Willow had to remember to breathe deeply. She so enjoyed that special place between pleasure and pain, that zone where the sting and the bite caused a wince and a sigh as the endorphins kicked in and electric pulses of pleasure coursed from her neck to her tailbone, radiating from the slice of the leather out and downward to her pussy. She could feel her lips swelling already, feel the wetness building as Sophia used the whip.

  Willow’s skin was pinking up beautifully, her ass rising slightly—nearly imperceptibly—off the chair as each blow landed.

  Sophia put the flogger away.

  “Stand.”

  Willow stood and waited.

  Sophia walked to the bed and lay down. She opened her fist to reveal the key to the chastity belt.

  “I’m debating whether to take you out of that thing or not.”

  Willow stood and waited.

  “Come to me.”

  Willow approached the bed and stood next to it.

  Sophia reached up and began massaging Willow’s breasts. Then she grabbed them hard and pulled Willow to her.

  “Do not disobey me,” she whispered into Willow’s ear.

  Willow didn’t move a muscle. She waited. She murmured, “Yes, Mistress.” And she waited.

  “You displease me tonight!” Sophia spit out. She unlocked the chastity belt and threw it on the bed. “Go kneel over there.”

  Willow went and knelt, not knowing what she had or hadn’t done to make her mistress angry.

  Sophia pondered the moment. She had thought she would enjoy seeing Willow again in her chastity belt, enjoy whipping that silky vulnerable back, enjoy playing roughly with the girl’s tits, biting her cunt lips, fucking her with the double cock. But now she was bored—unmoved and unexcited. Abruptly, she got off the bed and went back out to the living room. She opened her Mac and pulled up a storefront for bondage and lingerie and began perusing the photos. She reached down to her pussy and fondled her lips and her clit. Pictures of cupless bras always seemed to bring a rush to Sophia and tonight was no exception. She scanned page after page of gorgeous women in cupless bras feeling a slight tingling in her pussy. She shut down the Mac and went back to the bedroom. She picked up the harness and fastened it quickly around her, then she reached for the Feeldoe Slim and lubed up the smaller end. She inserted it into the harness and deeply into her pussy, then approached the kneeling girl.

  “On the bed, now. On your hands and knees.”

  Willow obeyed, spreading her legs wide and lifting her ass into the air.

  Sophia lubed up the seven-inch end and moved it between Willow’s thighs. Through years of practice and vaginal calisthenics, she kept the four-inch end clutched inside her pussy. She pushed the dildo up against Willow’s lips, moved it back and forth slightly, then side to side. Then she tucked the tip up inside Willow and moved her hips very very slowly so the tip entered and exited Willow’s hungry pussy. Over and over, Sophia let the tip slide in and out. She watched as the girl’s lips wrapped around the cock tip, clung to it, and then released. Willow’s lips grew slicker and more full as the slow fuck continued. Sophia knew Willow wanted the whole cock in her now, knew she was starved for a hard fuck, so she continued to use only the tip, back and forth, rocking gently, almost absentmindedly.

  Oh, fucking A ... jam it in me, come on ... Oh, Sweet Jesus…

  Sophia continued her slow mini fuck for five more minutes, then, when she herself was nearly loopy with desire (the other end of the dildo had been doing a steady slow dance deep inside her own pussy), she fin
ally slid the dildo in deeper. Then the strokes were deep and long and deep and long until Sophia started fucking faster and shallower. She stoked Willow’s pussy with the dildo—hard, hard, hard, soft, soft, soft, hard, soft, hard-hard, soft. Willow, not knowing what was coming next, wanted it all, wanted to be fucked hard and deep, wanted to be fucked shallow and superfast, wanted to be fucked with just the tip. Opening up to it, her pussy wider than Sophia had ever seen it before, Willow’s cunt looked—how could Sophia put it?—greedy, no insatiable. Sophia pulled the dildo out and thrust four fingers in.

  “Fuck my hand.”

  Willow didn’t need to hear more. Her hips bucked wildly, sucking the fingers up inside her cunt and pounding hard against Sophia’s hand. Sophia placed her other hand on the girl’s ass and said, “Wait.”

  Willow stopped.

  Sophia pulled out her fingers, added some lube, then began again—her entire hand disappearing inside the girl. Willow rocked back and forth, not as wildly but just as deeply, pulling Sophia up inside her, feeling Mistress Sophia’s fist as it subtly moved and twisted. She was in heaven.

  “Ooooohhhhhh ... ooooooohhhhhh ... oooohhhhh, Mistress! Oooooohhhhh, yes, yes, please!”

  Sophia thought about pulling out her hand, punishing Willow for speaking, but now she was turned on too. She brought her other hand around to stroke Willow’s clit.

  Willow’s head exploded with an electric charge as her pussy took the punishment of Mistress Sophia’s fist. Her entire body strummed with tension. Sophia continued to prod Willow’s clit, her expert hand knowing precisely how and where to apply pressure. Willow raised up, up, up to meet the hand, the sensations magnifying until she reached her peak, her entire body shaking, shoving, quaking as the rapture cascaded in her brain. A loud, almost painful, wail escaped her as she crashed forward against the bed, and the orgasm threw her up and out into the abyss.

  Sophia grabbed the seven-inch dildo and began pushing and pulling it, the four-inch end massaging the walls of her cunt, grinding into her. She jerked it rapidly and felt the raw pressure of the climax rising in her head, in her stomach, in her pussy. She reached around, shoved her finger into her own asshole, and began fucking herself—now, near the pinnacle of release, now the fingers working faster, more erratically as she lost control, pumping herself with both hands as the climax took over and sent her flying up to the heavens.