Forced Lesbian Submission Books 1-10

by Adrian Amos

She takes my nipple in her mouth, licking and sucking on it, pulling it up from the flesh. She runs her hand down my stomach, over my bellybutton, crossing over my pussy. She cups me, applying slight pressure, but the increased intensity makes it feel far stronger. I'm building up so quickly that I can barely catch my breath. I'm soaking wet from the slightest contact she's giving me.

  Megan uses a few fingers to dance over my clit, the pleasure numbing my entire body. She does nothing else but this for merely a few seconds, until the intensity is too much, the pressure building so quickly, that I explode, shooting ejaculate all over Megan's couch. Megan backs away quickly, watching me blow up from the most intense orgasms I've ever had. I gush out, screaming, the easiest sound to escape my mouth since I went under. The waves of orgasm ripple through me, maybe 50 times; my muscles spasm, and my body nearly locks up completely before giving way to my muscles exhausting themselves.

  I've never cum like that before. Never. I've never gushed either. My body aches. I've released every bit of energy from me.

  “That looked pretty good,” she says, “But the nice thing about increased sensitivity is that I don't have to spend much time on you. Stand up and undress your lover.” My stomach tightens. I'm her lover? After a moment, I stand, even though I'm so exhausted that my muscles whine as I lift myself.

  I can't believe it. There's no way I could get myself to stand like that if I had control of myself, not how I feel right now. Is my willpower to please her stronger if I'm not under my own control? I don't know. Do I really love her? I must really want her.

  But then, these aren't feelings I made for myself. She's manipulated me into feeling this way. But does that make my feelings wrong, or any less severe? It's actual love. I don't think I've ever felt it, even with my fiance. Do I just throw that away? I feel like I want to shake, nerves taking over, but I don't even have control over that.

  My hands move without my input.

  I unbutton her shirt and pull it over her shoulders. I unzip her pants and drop them. I bend down, remove her heels, and lift her legs to get her out of her pants. I remove her bra and panties, and then I stop. I don't move. I think I'm awaiting further orders.

  Her body is perfect: Her breasts have an incredible heft with quarter nipples; her figure is hourglass; her skin soft and smooth; her pussy hairless and compact. It's a body not hard to love.

  I did just cum, but I swear I can feel a new wetness forming from just looking at her.

  She comes close to me and presses her tits against mine; I moan slightly, still incredibly sensitive.

  “You like that, don't you, Gracie?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I admit.

  “I made you feel good all these months we've been together. The way I've been taking care of you, my little Gracie, has helped you so much with dealing with your troubles. Now it's your turn to return the favor and make me feel good.”

  She has done so much for me. It's hard to forget that. My problems haven't been problems in a long time, and it's all thanks to her therapy.

  “Do you want me?” she asks.

  “Yes, I want you,” I say. I finally understand that I want to please her, I want to make her happy. Even if I'm not sure that I actually control my own wants.

  She smiles, the devil etched in the curves, “I want you to tell me your feelings.”

  I don't want to say it, but I feel compelled. I do have enough power to feel embarrassed and look away. “I love you.”

  “And you'll do whatever I tell you. I control you, don't I?”

  “You control me.”

  She slaps me in the face. It stings, but I don't―can't―move. “Good, you little slut. Now I'm gonna use you. On your knees and stick that tongue out.”

  I drop down and open my mouth.

  She steps over me. She grabs my hair, hard, pulls my face back, and begins to grind her hips into my face. Her pussy is tangy, the first I've ever tasted one.

  She starts to moan, “Grab my ass.” I push my arms between her legs and come up to grab onto her ass. The soft flesh molds so well to my fingers, hardening as she pumps her pussy into my mouth.

  She rides my face, her juices building and dripping down the back of my throat. My eyes are still closed, which is lucky, because my face is getting soaked as I kneel there, letting her use my face as her seat.

  She grunts as she gets one last good grind in, then steps off. She pulls me to my feet by my hair. She charges her face into my neck, biting me and licking up. She lands at my ear and bites it. She whispers, grunting, harshly, “Goddamn, you good little slut. Maybe I'm not done with you yet. I just want to punish your little body.” She grabs my nipple and twists it. I squirm. “We can play with me later.” She slaps my breasts a few times, the stings nearly lifting me off my toes. She turns me around and slaps me on the ass, slapping me a few more times as she guides me by the hair to the couch.

  She gets me up on the cushions and throws me over the back end.

  “You made me work so hard for this,” she says.

  She brings her hand to my ass again, smacking it red with a number of hard slaps. I flinch, but I want her to keep hitting me. If I'd only noticed what she meant to me before, we could have been doing this so long ago. I want her to punish me.

  “I'm sorry,” I say, “I didn't know.”

  “I'll show you sorry. Spread that ass apart.”

  I reached back and spread my cheeks, exposing my hole to her. She reached under me and caressed my slit, before slipping two fingers into me. I shifted as she slammed her fingers, pumping me with vicious thrusts. I keep my ass spread, simply because she never told me to stop.

  I feel her face close in, her breath warming me as she sticks her tongue into my back-end. I tense, never having done any anal play before; but her tongue penetrates nonetheless, going in deeper than I could have imagined. I relax as Megan's soft, slick tip coils and penetrates while her fingers thrust into my pussy.

  She then flicks her fingers upward, combing the top of my vaginal wall, while pulling her tongue down and flicking it against the bottom of my ass. I can feel her fingers meet her tongue against the thin tissue separating both of my openings, and the pressure against each other drives me wild. I moan loudly as the pressure builds.

  Megan pulls out, and then promptly sticks her two fingers into my ass, without preamble, without waiting. I scream as she fills me up, but I keep my hands spreading me and don't let go of my ass, because I wasn't told to. Even as the pain hits me hard, I hold on without even thinking of letting go.

  She grabs my hair and pulls my head back, and then proceeds to slam her fingers into me just as hard as she had been doing to my pussy.

  “Today you get punished,” she says, pulling her fingers out, slapping my ass, and then jamming her fingers back in, “You little bitch.”

  “I'm sorry,” I say, “Please, punish me.”

  “Oh, I'm going to. I'm going to be punishing you for a while. You're my silly girl, now.”

  She pulls my hair, wrenching me from the couch. She sits down where I just was and says, “Kneel over me and sit on my lap.”

  I do, putting my knees on each side of her legs and sitting down on her lap.

  “Now, grind into me,” she says, “Show me how much you love me.”

  So I grind into her, putting my arms over her shoulders and grabbing the couch. I ride her, giving her a lap dance and grinding my pussy into her thighs and stomach. She grabs onto my ass and pulls me into her as I push in. As I keep going, she caresses me, running her hands up my ass, up my lower back, and circling my tits.

  As I pull in close, she grabs my nipples and holds them in place. As I pull back, she holds her hands still, so that each time I pull away from her, my nipples are trapped in her grasp, pulled taut from my own movements. I moan, and she twists them in response.

  She grabs my waist and pulls me forward, putting a nipple in her mouth. I continue to grind with my lower half as she sucks on me. My ass sticks out, and she takes this
opportunity to reach around and stick her two fingers back in.

  The pleasure builds until I can't handle it anymore. She sucks on my nipple, I grind my pussy, and she thrusts into my ass. I reach around and grab her shoulders as I ride her. All this causes me to come again, and I shake and moan in her arms, gushing as she fucks me with her fingers.

  I collapse into her, breathing heavily as I lean into her body.

  “You made me a mess,” she says.

  “I'm sorry.” I can't help but apologize to her.

  As I slowly catch my breath, I can't help but think about what she's done to me.

  “I love you,” I say.

  “I know you do,” she says, her impish smile showing me all I need to know about the implications of my feelings.

  * * *

  I fidget, shifting my butt in the seat to get comfortable. The other patient in the waiting room glances at me, but then looks away.

  I start getting a little jealous. The other girl in the room is kind of pretty; I mean, she might be seen as pretty by some. She's not gorgeous by any stretch of the imagination.

  I hope she's just here to talk about her stupid problems.

  It's ten minutes after.

  Oh, she keeps making me wait even longer. She'll probably tell me it's part of the therapy.

  When she finally opens the door, I get up quickly and reposition my skirt; I don't want the other girl to notice I'm not wearing underwear. I scurry through the doorway and sit down on the couch.

  Megan comes over to me and asks, "So how's your little project working out?"

  I try not to look at her: I'm embarrassed and I don't need the butterflies. "It's going fine."

  "Do you need to use the bathroom before I proceed with the next step?" she asks.

  "No, I'm fine."

  "What?" she asks, her voice stern as she folds her arms. "Did you keep it in like I told you to?"

  "Yes, I did," I quickly respond, "All day and all night."

  "Then why don't you have to go?"

  I shrug, looking away, "I was just thinking about it too much. It made me nervous, so I didn't really eat at all."

  "You didn't eat all day?" she asks, bordering on annoyance, "Gracie, you need to eat. It's not healthy skipping meals like that."

  She's silent, and I know she's staring at me, but I don't want to look at her. I don't want to say anything that might upset her.

  "Okay," I say, "But why do I got to do this anyway?"

  "Stand up and bend over."

  I do as she says, turning and bending over the couch like I'd bent over for her before. She lifts my skirt, laying it on my back, baring my naked ass.

  As she grabs the hanging string, she says, "It's all about discipline, Gracie." She pulls, I feel some pressure release, and out pops the first bead. Megan continues to pull methodically, her gliding hand perfectly steady, popping each successive bead out at rhythmic intervals. Each bead passing shoots through me with pleasure, my anus expanding and contracting rhythmically with each escape.

  As much as I sigh in relief at the last bead leaving me, I also feel empty, like I'm missing something, and I want to be filled up again.

  As I lean forward on the couch and relax, Megan grabs the next set of beads, each slightly larger in diameter than the corresponding beads on the used one.

  "I'm going to break you of your bad habit of thinking you can't handle things," she says, applying lube to the next insertion. "These beads are going to expand you, allowing you to take more and more of me in your ass." At this, I grunt as she sticks an entire finger inside me, spinning it and applying lube inside me.

  She grabs the next set of beads and slowly starts to insert them, each one expanding me but quickly getting swallowed inside of my already willing hole.

  "Your stress comes from your lack of self-esteem and self-confidence." She slips the middle beads in. "I'm going to make you a stronger woman. I'm going to make you able to handle whatever comes your way." She slips the final beads in. I swallow and relax, somewhat happy to be filled again. She brings my skirt back over my ass, and I sit down, the beads shifting inside me as I settle.

  "The beads will loosen you," she says, "But holding them inside today and tonight will take discipline."

  She lifts me to my feet, as if I weigh nothing.

  "And you eat like you're supposed to," she says, seriously, "Part of the discipline you should learn is preventing yourself from going to the bathroom when you have to. You hold it in, all day, until you see me again. You're allowed to go once you come back here tomorrow for your check up."

  I nod. I need to look at her once tonight before I leave, just so I know. I look up, catch her gaze, and nearly melt. I can't even look at her without my heart seizing and my stomach turning. I love this woman with everything I have.

  "I love you," I say.

  She smiles and pats me on the butt, "We'll expand you some more tomorrow. Now go," she pats me on the butt, causing the beads to move around, "I have another appointment waiting."

  As I leave Megan's office and close the door, I look at the girl sitting in the waiting room. I can't help but stick my tongue out at her. She is surprised, but I just want her to go home and leave us alone.

  All I think about on my way back home is that I just want to do whatever I can for the person I love. Maybe, in this case, even if she doesn't love me back. Even if she uses my emotions against me. I'll do whatever I can to please her.

  She doesn't even have to suggest it.

  - - -

  Conquered by the Goths

  "Maclin is playing tonight."

  “Girl, I know,” Mary says, “But my question is why didn't you invite me?”

  I fumble with my phone, trying to connect it to Bluetooth so I can drive and talk. Once it connects, I squeak out, “Sorry, it was a last minute idea. Someone was hawking it and I snapped it up immediately. Then I, fucking, had to start making the 6 hour drive here right away.”

  “I wish I could have gone with you,” she says.

  “Yeah, I know. You know I would have loved you to come. You're my bestie.”

  “Aren't you worried going there by yourself, Emma? You're so tiny and petite.”

  I smile. Yeah, I'm small at 5'2” and 110 pounds, but I know she likes that about me. She likes to poke fun in a cutesy way all the time. “Naw,” I say, “I know there are some creepy dudes at the concerts, but I always seem to run across the knights in shining armor that want to protect me from the crowd. The guys I meet tend to make sure no one's bothering me or getting handsy. I'm kind of lucky that way.”

  “It's probably because you're too pretty, drawing everyone in.”

  “Pfft,” I snort. I love when she says that about me. “Please, I'm not worried. I've done this a lot. I'm going to get a spot right up front, right next to the stage, against the railing, and I'll be fine. I'll be away from the mosh pits as well. I haven't been too close to any assholes yet.”

  “Okay,” she says, “When you get back, why don't you come sleep over and we can hang out?”

  “Yeah, that's cool. I'll come by right after I get back. I love ya.”

  “I love ya, too, girl.”

  I pull into the parking lot―a grass enclosure a good distance from the venue. Even though I'm only slightly early to the venue―instead of my usual 4 hours in advance―I'm able to walk through the grounds and make my way to the front of the stage without much maneuvering.

  As I lean up against the metal barricade surrounding the stage, I pull out my camera and start taking pictures of the roadies setting up the instruments. They're setting up for my favorite band, Maclin, right now, as the concert is going to start in about an hour.

  I've been to a lot of concerts, seen a lot of bands, but this is the first time Maclin's come down to Florida, at least as far as I know. It's the closest they've been to Tampa, and I thought 6 hours was not that bad of a drive.

  I just wish I had more time to prepare myself. I follow their concert tours, and
coming down here was sort of a change up. Johnny grew up around here, and when his Atlanta venue fell through due to the roof collapsing from bad weather, he decided to do a small gig here until his next stop on his tour came up. It was definitely a huge break for me, especially since I had to scrounge for money at the last second to buy a ticket.

  I almost feel lost dealing with the sudden shift in my weekend plans. Like a timezone change, I kind of feel wired and out of my element. I might also just be hopped up from riding caffeine through my drive.

  Time is nearing and the crowd is growing thick. I look around: the normal people you'd see at these concerts are around. I wouldn't say Maclin is hardcore metal: they're more varied, ranging from Indie rock stuff to more metal influences, but you see it in the crowd, where you find laid back hipsters mixing with decked out goths. I wouldn't call myself either: I just have a gray crop top on, a short black skirt, and some tan boots. I'd probably call myself the least fashionable person here.

  The girls that just snuck in behind me, though, are full-on goth. One of them is decked out in black and purple, from her tight, frilly, corset dress to her boots. Her lips and eyebrows are purple, all set to match her bright purple hair. The other one is even more monochrome―that might be a goth thing, I guess―but her color of choice is black. Her hair and make up are dark, and her dress is very similar to the other girl's, just black instead, with the corset looking more like leather. She's also wearing fishnet stockings, and her boots reach to her thighs. The darkness is accented by how incredibly pale she is: her skin is milky white, almost like a doll's.

  I can't really say it's a bad look. They're actually really pretty girls, and what they're doing looks good on them. The purple one really stands out, though. That might be because she's staring right at me.

  “What?” she asks.

  “Uh, nothing,” I say, as I turn back toward the stage.

  “There's gotta be something,” she retorts, “Especially if you're staring at me.”

  I turn back toward her, “No, sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

  Her eyes are narrow, looking for trouble. “Yeah, right.”