by Ella Ford
“Yes, miss, whatever you desire,” she replied breathlessly.
I sat back and studied her once more. She was so submissive and yielding, responding to my every word.
“Undress me Hanako,” I said, then rose to my feet before her.
She bowed, then stepped forwards, her naked body mere inches from mine. I was suddenly struck by how tiny she was, standing a good eight inches shorter than me in my heels. This difference made me feel powerful, commanding. It emphasized the power dynamic between us and it thrilled me to tower over her. I felt as though I could pick her up and throw her to the sofa, then ravish her petite body. Later, maybe.
Hanako started to undress me. Apprehensively, she began to unbutton my blouse, her trembling fingers fumbling with each button in turn. Then she reached up and slipped the delicate garment off my shoulders, brushing the skin of my upper arms with her fingertips and making me shiver.
I raised my arms to allow her access to my bra. She obligingly reached behind me and unfastened the clasp, then stood back and watched as the lacy bra fell off my body and my ample breasts fell free.
With all due modesty, I will confess that my breasts are my finest feature. Full and firm, with not a single dollar of plastic surgery spent on them, despite my ex-husbands constant hints. Hanako clearly agreed, appearing captivated by them and gazing at my hard nipples with hungry eyes.
“Would you like to taste them Hanako?” I purred, barely concealing the fact that I wanted to feel her mouth on me as much as she clearly did.
“Yes, please, miss,” she replied, never once taking her eyes off my fleshy globes.
I gripped one breast and offered it to her. “Go ahead then,” I said.
She leaned forward, barely needing to dip her head, and lightly flicked her tongue across the tender bud of my nipple, then locked her lips around it, sucking hungrily. I shuddered as her warm mouth began its work, delighting at the sensation of warmth and wetness that flooded outwards from my chest. I moaned quietly and stroked a hand across Hanako’s back.
I allowed the girl a minute of this, sensing that she would continue all night if I let her. As tempting as this was, I had other uses for her mouth tonight. Gently, I pulled away from her. “My skirt, Hanako,” I said, and she fell to her knees before me.
With trembling hands, she teased the side zipper down and then eased the skirt off my hips and down my legs. I stepped to the side and allowed her to gather the olive garment and place it on the arm of the sofa.
Hanako remained on her knees and I sat back down on the sofa, naked now but for my tan stockings and high heeled pumps. I sighed, and studied the girl again. There was something maddeningly compelling about seeing her kneel like this. Her back was straight and her hands were flat on her thighs. She gazed up at me expectantly, awaiting my next command.
I realized then, as if it wasn’t obvious before, that she would do anything I asked. She was mine to command, mine to control, mine to possess. I wondered what the limits to this power were, what boundaries I could approach but never cross. From the look in her eyes, willing and docile, I began to suspect that such forbidden lines would be few and far between.
This appeared to be everything she wanted out of life, her only destiny and calling. She lived to serve, to give pleasure where pleasure was needed. It had been obvious from the very first moment we’d met. But to fully appreciate it, I had needed to come to my own realization.
As much as Hanako demanded to submit and be controlled, so I demanded to dominate and control. As much as she craved the rough hand of discipline, so I craved to administer that discipline. This revelation about my inner desires surprised me, shocked me even. It had never even crossed my mind before. Indeed, I’d spent most of my adult life being dominated in a different way, by Philip’s controlling hand. A doormat, a prize trophy, displayed only when he saw fit and never granted anything that I desired other than purchased trinkets.
Was my domination of Hanako a reaction to this or was it something always present but never realized?
I accepted that it didn’t matter. That there was only the here and now, and how we came to this place didn’t matter a single stitch. For now, my intentions were clear, my actions focussed and my desire concerned only with the naked, docile girl before me and what she could do for me.
I fixed Hanako’s eyes with my stare and smirked slightly. “Hanako, eat my pussy,” I commanded.
Hanako moved without hesitation, falling forward onto all fours and shuffling towards me. I sank back into the sofa, pushing my ass forward so that my pussy was on the edge of the cushion then spread my legs. With teasing movements, I dipped two fingers between my legs and parted my pussy lips, displaying the soft pink flesh within to Hanako. I noted that I was already wet, slick with desire and pent up lust.
Hanako stared at my sex, transfixed by the sight of me, open and exposed to her. Her eyes were alive with a hunger that I had never seen in another human being before. It was feral, primal, a fiery longing that burned beneath her gaze. She eyed me as a cat might eye a mouse, ready to pounce, yet hesitant for the right moment. Then she plunged her head forwards, meeting my wet folds with her warm tongue and lapping up the length of my pussy with a long, slow stroke.
My body ignited at her touch, arcing jolts of pure electricity snaked up my torso and down my legs. I pushed back into the sofa, the pleasurable tension animating my body. Hanako licked me again, drawing her tongue back and forth through my lips, brushing against my throbbing clitoris on each pass and stoking the fire within me.
I had never felt anything like it. Never. Early in my marriage, Philip had attempted to go down on me after a particularly raucous party. But he was drunk and it was a halfhearted effort at best, with him failing to locate any points of interest in that complex terrain. Eventually, he’d fallen asleep, snoring loudly as I quietly finished myself off with my fingers.
But this... Oh boy! My first woman, my first real oral sex. It was indescribable. The way her moist tongue felt on me, the way her arms snaked around my thighs and held her body in place on my pussy, the sensation of control and dominance. All of this combined to intoxicate me, to set my body afire with passion and lust.
Unable to control myself, I dropped my hands down and gripped Hanako’s delicate head, pulling her inwards, locking her mouth to my pussy. She took the hint and shifted her focus to my clit, flicking at the sensitive bulge and pressing down on it. She moved her tongue from side to side, rolling it around against my body, then sucked it and my labia into her mouth and held it there.
I thrashed from side to side, my mind was reeling from the intense waves of pleasure that were rippling across me, a neverending tide of pure ecstasy. I tightened my grip on her head and held her in place, then began to grind my hips against her face. I wanted to fuck her, to use her tongue, her nose, her chin to give me the pleasure I craved. She didn’t try to resist, surrendering herself to my movements, holding her tongue out so that I could pound my clitoris against it.
My breathing sped up and I moved my hips quicker. Inside me, a familiar warmth was building. My body writhed against Hanako’s head, faster and faster I moved until the pulsing waves of desire bled into one constant surge of pure pleasure. I released myself into this surging noise and let it carry my body upwards. The feeling skyrocketed, lifting my mind into the stratosphere and I swore I could look down on our naked bodies, locked together in heated congress.
Then I sensed a point of no return being crossed, an invisible line from which there could be no recovery. The surging pleasure became a deluge, then a torrent and finally a tsunami of utter intensity. My body roared and my muscles tensed as the climax took me. I pulled Hanako’s face tightly against my pussy, not wanting to lose that warm pressure. Then my sex exploded on her, covering her face with my hot juices and this thrilled me all the more.
I threw my head back and screamed my joy, not caring who might hear.
And then the tidal wave abated, and my body returned to
the earth. I collapsed back on the sofa, body limp and arms powerless. Hanako fell back, gasping for air, face slick with wetness. Her head bowed and she panted, exhausted and spent.
My vision blurred and I felt myself drifting away, utterly satisfied and totally content. The final thing that I saw before drifting into a light doze was Hanako’s face, gazing up at me from between my legs. As I watched, the corners of her mouth rose in a smirk.
I knew then, as if it wasn’t obvious before, that Hanako had everything she wanted. But more than this, as the exhaustion carried me away to sweet oblivion, I realized that I did too.
THE END
Training Her BFF Maid
by Ella Ford
Chapter 1
For as long as we’d been best friends, Nicole and I had been insanely competitive. As teenage girls growing up in smalltown Oregon, we’d competed for the hottest guys, the best grades, the captaincy of the cheerleader squad. But it was never a destructive competition. Instead, it fueled our friendship, brought us closer together and held us there even as we left high school and went off to college and our adult lives.
As grown women, if you can call your mid-twenties truly ‘grown’, this spirit of friendly one-upmanship continued, intensified with the worldly concerns of adulthood. Which one of us had the highest salary, the richest boyfriend, the nicest house - every aspect of our lives was open to comparison and competition. And as much as each of us strived to outdo the other, so we became better friends.
Of course, not everybody could understand the dynamic between us. Our mutual friend Sarah despaired at the way we constantly battled each other.
“Why are you two even friends?” she finally cried out one day, throwing her hands up in the air, clearly exasperated after we’d spent most of a lunch date bickering about who had the prettier nail job.
Nicole and I simply looked at each other and shrugged. It was simply who we were - friends for life, competitive for life.
---
“I bet you I win,” said Nicole slyly as she racked up the pool balls. We were in a local dive bar, a downtown favorite of the three of us and regular Thursday girl’s night venue.
From behind me, I heard Sarah sigh. “Oh god, not this again,” she whispered and returned to the table to sit down, shaking her head.
I studied Nicole’s face, trying to gauge how much she’d had to drink, trying to figure out if I had a chance against her. Under normal circumstances, Nicole was easily a match for me. I will happily concede that as a pool player, I am no great shakes. Sure, I could take her at tennis and racquetball, but pool really wasn’t my game.
But that night, I had one thing in my favor. I’d been drinking half-measures so as not to interfere with a course of antibiotics I’d been taking for an ear infection. Of course, Nicole didn’t know this.
“What’s the bet?” I asked coyly, trying not to give away my confidence, trying to appear uncertain and shaky.
Nicole clutched the pool cue to her chest and gazed at me thoughtfully, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Loser pays for the taxi home?” she offered.
I made a show of considering this, twirling a strand of honey blonde hair around my finger. “Doesn’t sound like much of a bet Nic?” I replied nonchalantly. “How about we raise the stakes?”
Nicole took a sip from her drink and peered at me over the rim of her martini glass. “Okay Lisa, old friend of mine, how about this,” she purred. “If you win, I’ll be your maid for the weekend. If I win, you be mine. How does that sound?”
I thought about this for a few seconds. In truth, it sounded pretty good to me. Humiliating and degrading for the loser, some much needed housekeeping chores for the winner - by which I mean me. I swayed a bit on my tall heels, a little bit of extra flavor to compound the deception of my sobriety and lull Nicole into a false sense of security.
“Okay Nic, you’re on,” I said and reached across the pool table to shake my friend’s hand.
Nicole grasped my hand in hers, locking me in her firm grip. Of the two of us, Nicole had always been the stronger, while I had always been the most athletic. She pulled me towards herself and fixed her eyes on mine, a mischievous smile spreading across her pretty face. “I’m going to enjoy making you my bitch,” she said with supreme confidence and I genuinely believed she would. For the first time, I wondered if I’d bitten off more than I could chew.
“Oh brother,” I heard Sarah whisper from the table behind us, “will you two just get a room!”
The game began and the two of us approached the competition with our usual serious fervor. Each of us strode around the table, eying our shots as though we were competing for a major title. To look at us, you’d think we were genuine hustlers with more at stake than a dumb bet, not the tipsy twenty-somethings that we were.
The first ball fell to Nicole, a stripe, and then another. My friend whooped and hollered with a distinct lack of grace, her enthusiasm stoked by the scent of impending victory. My heart sank, but I kept my head up and soon sank a few balls myself, then a few more.
Within a few minutes, we each had two balls remaining and the black to win. The room had fallen into a nervous silence as the tense game progressed. Even Sarah seemed entranced by the competition unfolding before her, and had stood to watch us play.
Nicole took the next ball, then the next and with just the black between her and victory, began to relax a little. With an infuriating smirk, she brushed past me and made her way to the other side of the table where the cue ball awaited her in a ludicrously easy position beside the pocket. She leaned over, resting her hand on the table and lifted her right leg behind her for balance.
With a look of perfect concentration, she slid the cue back and forth over her hand. Then suddenly, as she was just about to strike the cueball, she staggered on her stiletto heel, turning her ankle and slipping to one side. The cue struck the white ball off center and it flew off at a right angle to what she intended. To my delight, it struck one of my remaining balls, nudging it sideways and into the corner pocket!
“Shit!” spat Nicole as she bent to rub her twisted ankle. “These damned shoes!”
I laughed to myself. It was only the previous day that she’d paraded around before me in those precarious heels, boasting that they’d cost her more than an entire week of my salary!
I gathered myself together and tried to contain my excitement. Nicole had handed me the perfect opportunity, but I still had the remaining balls to clear. I stepped around the table and calmly lined myself up to take the yellow. It went with ease, bouncing off the top cushion and angling its way back down the table to the far corner.
I paused to blow the chalk off the end of my cue and shot Nicole a sly wink. Well, if I wasn’t going to enjoy this, then what was the point?
Taking a deep breath, I positioned myself on the black ball. My heart was hammering, my palms were sweaty. I blinked to clear my eyes, then lined myself up and lightly pushed the cue forwards. The white ball took off down the table, and struck the black at exactly the position I’d intended, but with far less power than I would have liked.
I held my breath as the black ball shot off to the left, perfectly aligned on the middle pocket but rapidly running out of steam. Twelve inches, eight, six, four, three… I forced my eyes shut, barely able to watch as the ball slowed to a halt on the lip of the target.
Then to my surprise, I heard Nicole curse beside me. “Oh shit no!”
I opened my eyes to see the black disappear into the pocket. I gasped, unable to believe I’d won! “Yes!” I cried out, punching the air like a sixth grade football player.
“Great, thank god that’s over with,” Sarah drawled, sitting back down at the table and sipping on her drink, “can we get back to getting drunk again?”
I stepped over to the table, brushing against Nicole and whispered to her on my way past. “Be at my house on Friday at six pm. Bring your best mop.”
My friend groaned and screwed up her face in frustration.
&
nbsp; ---
“Okay, I am not wearing that!” said Nicole with furious indignation. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts and her face was a mask of pure rage. It was delicious.
We were standing in the guest room of my modest two bedroom house, looking down at the bed and what I’d carefully arranged on it. Laid out before us was a classic maid uniform, the kind you might find in porn clichés or old British sitcoms. I fully intended to extract every ounce of satisfaction out of this bet, and if it meant getting my friend to dress up in this humiliating uniform, then so be it.
The outfit consisted of a dress of shiny black satin, low cut and short on the thigh. It was frilled across the chest with white lace detailing, and layered on the skirt with a delicate sheer material. Folded on top of the dress was a crisp, white apron and sheer, black, seamed stockings. Finally, a pair of my tallest high heeled pumps, shiny and pristine.
“Well, that’s up to you Nic, but a bet is a bet, after all,” I said, relishing every moment of my victory.
“Lisa, listen, I…” began Nicole. I silenced her by putting my finger to my mouth.
“I’d like you to call me ‘mistress’ this weekend,” I purred, and nearly burst out laughing as Nicole shot me a look of pure malice.
“Aw hell, I thought you’d just want me to do your laundry and hoovering,” she pleaded, eying up the skimpy outfit before her.
“There’ll be plenty of time for that. Now get dressed and meet me in the living room for your first assignment.”
With that, I strolled out of the room, leaving my friend staring at the bed.
---
Fifteen minutes passed and I began to think that Nicole had genuinely backed out. I was about to stand up from my sofa and go to check on her when I heard the guest room door creak open and the gentle clicking of heels on the floor upstairs.
I turned to the staircase and waited with eager anticipation. Gingerly, Nicole emerged, taking each of the steep stairs with great care in the precipitous heels. I watched as she stepped down, relishing her obvious discomfort.