by Ella Ford
I took a step back and allowed my eyes to slowly crawl down her body, admiring the athletic lines of her frame, the modest rise of her breasts and the slender curve of her waist. I licked my lips as I followed the long line of her tanned legs down to her dainty ankles and her pretty feet, toes painted to perfection in the same shade of red as her fingers and lips. As I watched, she rippled her toes on the cold tile floor, and I sighed as a rush of longing swept over me.
I stepped forward again, feeling a surge of dominance and control. I lifted my hands and grabbed her upper arms, feeling the soft warmth of her flesh, alive with a rash of gooseflesh. With a rough insistence, I pushed her backwards to the wall of the bathroom. She stumbled in my grip, but allowed herself to be manipulated, hitting the wall with a gasp. I pinned her there, maintaining my grip on her arms, keeping them locked by her side. She seemed smaller now, no longer the statuesque valkyrie that had stepped into the bathroom earlier. Pinned against the wall, barefoot at my behest, she seemed to lose her power, becoming little more than a submissive plaything that was mine to command. From deep inside me, I felt a familiar rush of warmth, a growing fire that would soon demanded satisfaction.
I pushed my body against hers, flattening my breasts on her breasts, feeling the quick warmth of her breath on my face. I was hungry, possessed with lust and desire, a rekindled remnant of my longing for Jenna Lee. But there was something new here, a need that possessed a different profile, a strong compulsion to take and use this goddess of a woman. I leaned my head forward and touched my lips to hers, tasting her moist lips, sticky with her lip gloss, warm and vital and alive with desire. She sighed at my kiss, parting her lips slightly, allowing her tongue to poke out before withdrawing it. Was it an invite to enter her, or a realization that she was not in control here, that this was my game to control? I didn’t know, didn’t care, my mind was overwhelmed with the intoxicating sensation of her; the trembling quiver in her arms; the quick rise and fall of her breasts, pinned before me; the glowing warmth of her face and sharp sigh of her breath. I pushed forwards again, hungry for more, desperate for the taste of her, to drink her into me.
Our mouths slid together, tongues dancing in the space between us like dueling blades. I lifted my hands to her face, cupping her cheeks in my palms, angling her head to grant me better access to her mouth. I reached around her neck, grabbing her ponytail and tugging it with a rough yank. She bent her knees and lowered herself, tilting her neck up until I was gazing down at her. Her eyes were wide, azure gems that glistened in the clinical light of the bathroom. She seemed to be begging me for more, inviting me on with a nervous energy that prickled the air between us.
I pulled up on her hair and she squealed, straightening her legs and following my motion. With a rough push, I moved her body into one of the bathroom stalls, sending the door crashing against the wall with a loud bang. I barely noticed the noise, forcing her back and allowing the door to close behind us. I grabbed her arms again and span her round, pushing her against the stall wall. She lifted her hands to the wooden partition and flattened her palms on the cold surface. She was panting now, breath coming in quick, sharp bursts. I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, until she was gazing back at me over her shoulder. The warmth in my pussy had escalated to a raging inferno, an unstoppable conflagration of furious desire. I craved this girl like nothing I’d ever wanted before, needed her with an animalistic hunger. I wanted to taste her, to smell her, to feel every inch of my skin pressed against her naked body.
“Spread your legs,” I snarled in her ear with a sharp whisper.
She nodded in my grip and parted her feet. I reached down and grabbed the hemline of her dress, pulling it up over her firm ass. She gasped and moaned, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the stall partition. I reached down and dropped my hand between her legs, sliding my fingers under the damp lace of her black panties. My eager digits found her pussy and plunged into the dripping folds, roughly grabbing, kneading, massaging.
“Ahhh,” she breathed with a long exhale. Her eyes squeezed tighter and her fingers curled against the wall. She shifted in position, parting her legs yet further, yielding to my insistent demands.
“What do you want Christa?” I breathed in her ear, sliding her bulging clitoris through my slender fingers.
She panted in my grip, responding to my manipulation with a soft whimper. “I-I want to… I want to be owned,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I whispered, massaging her nub once more, harder this time, pressing the hot bulge against her body.
“I-I want to be your doll,” she moaned, grinding her body against the wall, driven by the furious maelstrom of desire that lit up her body with a hot flush. “I want to do what you say, I want to do what you want, I want you to use me, to dominate me,” she added, repeating the litany of desires as though articulating her need for the first time.
“I’m sure that something can be arranged,” I purred, giving her pussy one final, hard press.
I stepped back to the opposite wall and moved to the toilet, lifting my leg and placing my heel on the lowered seat. Christa gazed back at me over her shoulder, peering at my heel and stockinged foot with narrowed eyes that beamed her intense desire. I didn’t yet know about Christa’s foot fetish, I suspect that she didn’t either, but I’d soon come to realize that Christa’s love of female feet was second only to her love of pussy.
I reached down and wriggled my tight, beige skirt up my thighs, over the top of my thigh high stockings, revealing the creamy softness of my upper thighs and the delicate lace of my silk panties. Christa turned to face me, leaning back against the wall of the cubicle, gnawing on her lower lip and breathing heavily, chest rising and falling with a quick cadence.
“Down on your knees,” I breathed, barely able to speak. She fell instantly, dropping down to kneel before me, another loss of height that diminished her power and intensified her submission. Yet she capitulated readily, allowing herself to be controlled by me totally. She gazed up at me, eyes flicking between my pussy, my raised foot and my face. Her expression was pure longing, utter desire and total need.
I leaned back against the wall, parting my legs wider and teasing one hand over the soft nylon covered thigh of my raised leg. My fingers reached my pussy and found the flesh of my sex, slick with moisture and boiling with desire. I flicked aside my panties and parted my lips, revealing the pink of my inner labia to her, presenting her next assignment with bold glee. Her eyes shot forwards, now fixated on one point only. For a tiny eternity, I played with myself, sliding my fingers through my hot pussy, transfixing her with my movements, inviting her forward but not allowing her to move. Her eyes grew impatient, charging the air in the small cubicle with an intolerable tension and a furious longing. She was like a wild horse, caged and bound and unable to run free, her entire being craving the open skies and wide prairie. But it was not freedom that this filly craved, it was the exact opposite - a surrender of liberty, the inexplicable paradox of submission’s release. And my pussy was an avatar for that capitulation.
As I looked on, she licked her lips hungrily. Please mistress, she pleaded with her eyes and her parted lips, please allow me.
I leaned down and removed my fingers from my pussy, holding my slick hand out in front of me. Then I nodded. Without a second of pause, she shuffled forwards and grabbed my hand, plunging my slender fingers into her hungry mouth. She lapped and sucked at me, eyes pressed closed, tongue sweeping around my digits as she cleaned them of all of my juice. Then her aperitif was completely consumed, she removed my fingers from her mouth and refocused her attention forwards, to my waiting pussy. I nodded again, barely able to contain my own longing. I wanted nothing more than to have this intriguing girl’s head between my legs, to envelope her in my warmth, to feel her eager lapping on my hot sex.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Before my nod was even done, she was moving forwards. One slender arm coiled around my right leg, hand gri
pping the back of my thigh, locking herself in position like a high rise construction worker. Her other hand fell to my raised foot, fingers curling under the rise of my heel. Then she fell forwards, face diving down on to my pussy, tongue darting out and devouring me without a hint of tease or foreplay.
My pussy exploded with sensation, the sudden jolt of her attention and the insistent touch of her warm tongue. Her actions were so bold, so self-assured. So very different from the innocent trepidation of Beth. The winsome brunette was halting and unsure, while Christa was purposeful and forward. I found a distant part of me wondering what it would be like to watch Christa fuck Beth, to see her tower over my tiny doll, pounding her asshole and pussy with a thick plastic cock. Devil and angel.
I dropped my hands down to grip her head, pushing her into me, needing to satisfy the intoxicating rush of desire that swept over me as my sordid thoughts charged my already insatiable longing. She responded with quick licks of my pussy, sweeping her tongue across my lips, focusing her attention on my throbbing clit. Her tongue was pure electricity, every touch sending jolts of pleasure throughout my body. I felt my nerve endings sing with this curious energy, thrilled to the warmth that rippled through me.
“Oh god, oh god,” I said, throwing my head back against the stall partition, not a single care about who might enter and hear my frantic moans and fevered cries. All thoughts of the hearing, or of Beulah, or of Jenna Lee and her crushing rejection banished. All that mattered now was the captivating blonde between my legs, her hot tongue and utter devotion to my pleasure.
Suddenly, she pulled back and gazed up at me. Her mouth and face were slick with my wetness, her lipgloss was smeared around her mouth, giving her a dishevelled, feral appearance that spoke of her complete desire. I peered down at her, mildly annoyed by the interruption in her attention, feeling the looming swell of impending climax recede from my awareness.
“Wh-what?” I breathed, panting heavily.
“Please, Miss Ross,” she breathed, “sit,” she added, pointing at the toilet seat. I followed her motion and realized what she wanted, what she was suggesting. I shifted to the side, moving around her and lowering myself to the seat. She smiled and sighed, never taking her eyes off my pussy. I shuffled forwards until my ass was hanging over the edge, then I leaned back against the cistern.
Christa didn’t wait for an invitation this time, instead darting forwards as soon as I was in position, lifting my legs and resting them on her shoulders. Then she leaned in and dropped her mouth to my pussy, resuming her intense attention without a second thought.
As her tongue found my clit, the hot warmth re-ignited inside my body, coursing through my nerves and veins with an unstoppable energy. I moaned out loud without thinking, reaching out to the side and flattening my palms against the walls of the stall, as though to anchor myself on something solid. My head was swimming and my vision blurred, my heart was pounding like an out of control jackhammer. And still she licked, lapping at me with endless enthusiasm and obvious skill.
Then I felt her enter me, two bold fingers pushed into my tight hole, finding little resistance at the slick entrance. I screamed out, an unavoidable expression of hunger and longing, then slammed my hand against my mouth, realizing what I’d done. Christa didn’t miss a beat, driving her hand back and forth, adding an extra finger to her trespass, pushing deeper, harder with every piston-like stroke. With her mouth, she sucked my labia between her lips, enveloping my clit in her warmth, frantically pressing, licking, tasting me with her hungry tongue. I felt utterly overwhelmed by her, filled and encapsulated at once, an intense mixture of sensations that formed a heady cocktail that was cripplingly intoxicating.
My entire universe seemed to collapse now, all around us becoming black and distant and utterly unimportant. My cosmos consisted of two figures and a hot, broiling nexus of energy focused on my pussy. And then, without warning, a new presence loomed up from between us. An inevitable, irresistible force that I could not ignore, and didn’t even want to.
The climax washed over me in an instant, triggered by a final hungry lick of Christa’s tongue, pressing on my clitoris and sealed into certainty by her driving hand, plunging inside me with rough insistence. The orgasm broke, a thousand foot dam crumbling to a trillion pieces and releasing a deluge of utter pleasure. I thrashed about on the toilet seat, grinding my hips into Christa’s face, smothering her with my sex. My hands slammed against the cubicle walls, shaking the flimsy wooden partition with the force of my blows. I didn’t care, had not a single concern about who might hear me. I was lost to the flood of sensation that was washing down the valley of my awareness, mind rendered useless by the intense force of the released energy. I threw my head back and tried to scream; something, anything to relieve the tension in my body, but nothing came out, no sound emerged. My arms and legs began to shake, animated by the orgasm, nerve endings and synapses firing off phantom sparks.
Christa ceased her attention, freezing in place, her tongue on my clit and her hand deep in my pussy. She locked herself onto my body with her arm, still wrapped around my thigh, riding my orgasm with me, allowing my warm wetness to spill over her face and mouth.
And then, as quickly as it had arrived, the orgasm left me and released my body. I felt myself collapse back on the toilet seat, legs settling on Christa’s back, her head still buried in my sex. I exhaled deeply, expelling the energy of my sexual fulfillment and causing my body to deflate.
Christa sat back on her heels, kneeling beside me, studying me with an attentive adoration, her blue eyes wide and inviting. I gazed back at her, captivated by her stare and the hot intensity of what it signified. Christa possessed what Jenna had never had. A certain willing desire, a need that was obvious and unhidden. A surrender of autonomy, of agency. Christa’s look spoke of willing submission and utter capitulation. It was indescribable, undeniable and utterly thrilling. Christa belonged to me now.
Chapter 4: The Graduate
Now
It all seemed so long ago, the hearing and Christa’s submission. As I watched the writhing mass of female limbs on the bed before, as I tracked the trajectory of Charlotte’s ecstasy through the medium of her endless moans and the curling of her fingers and toes, I remembered what those early days in my growing harem were like.
After I encountered Christa in the bathroom, the pair of us discreetly returned to the hearing, waving away the concern and probing about my sudden departure with half-hearted explanations and appeals to the claustrophobic heat and the stress of the confrontation. Of course, Beulah snorted and huffed like the sow that she was, muttering something about poor breeding stock and generally displaying a complete disregard for my well-being. The hearing ended shortly after and Beulah’s lawyer handed over a derisory note with a fairytale sum of money that no-one in their right minds would accept. James Reinhold responded the same day with a sum that was far more reasonable and borderline insulting, but added that it was our best and final offer. Beulah took it, clearly aware that it was the most money she was likely to see from her dead brother’s estate.
Then everything went back to normal.
Except, that was, for Christa, the curious lawyer. She joined my household the following week. Turning up on my doorstep, as instructed, with just a light bag and the clothes she wore. I had worried about introducing her to Beth, my first doll. Like welcoming a new puppy into an established pack of dogs, I feared there would be tantrums and territorial skirmishes. But Beth and Christa were so radically different that they complimented each other perfectly and never once bickered. They soon became good friends and sensual lovers, with Christa being the dominant slave-sister, taking the younger Beth in hand and introducing her to private worlds of pleasure that the pair shared together in the doll room after the house lights went out.
And I got myself a new plaything, a second plinth filled. I soon attributed the role of sexual siren to Christa, emphasising the vampish nature of her personality, her curiosity and explorative n
ature. While I liked to emphasize Beth’s innocent purity, I prefered to highlight Christa’s seductive nature, dressing her in black nylon stockings and severe high heels, painting her face with bold colors and deep shading. She was a being of elemental sexuality, and I loved to highlight that.
A sudden scream brought me back to the present and the sensual foursome on my wide bed. Christa’s head was still buried between Charlotte’s parted legs, blonde hair bobbing up and down with increasing frequency. Her long arms were coiled around Charlotte’s thighs, pushing her feet back over her body. Meanwhile, Chloe, the regal redhead, was devouring Charlotte’s mouth, kissing her passionately, deeply, plunging her tongue between the young girl’s willing lips. And Beth, sweet Beth, was roaming over the captive student’s body, peppering her burning skin with frantic kisses and hot licks of her hungry tongue.
The four girls were moaning and panting in perfect unison, a hot chorus of pure pleasure, their voices dovetailing together, harmonising their ecstasy. But there was one voice that stood out from the others. An increasingly frantic and urgent song. Charlotte’s lone voice, rising out of the lusty throng as the weight of sensation rocked her body. She began to pant quickly, soft cries that ramped up in frequency and power. The three girls locked on her body seemed to sense her mounting climax and redoubled their efforts, pulling themselves into her, giving her no respite from their constant attention.
“Oh god! Oh god! Stop! I… I…” she cried out, her words begging for release but her tone pleading for more.
Faster and faster they moved, tongue on pussy, tongue on tongue, tongue on nipple. A thrashing hydra with multiple heads, smothering Charlotte with attention, allowing no room for escape.