“Looks like you have been having some fun,” Debbie cooed, not releasing her grip from the secretary’s neck. “I don’t think you would want your boss to find out about this, so why don’t we have a little fun together?” Debbie asked her.
The secretary nodded her head in agreement, and attempted to say something but it just came out garbled from between the fingers Debbie still had wrapped tightly around her face.
Debbie released her hands. “What was that?” she asked. “Tell me quietly.”
“I said, ‘Yea, let’s smoke some hashish,’” the girl told her in a surprisingly mellow tone. “This is some good stuff. I picked it up from the open air hash market in Christiana last time I was there.” She passed the pipe and a lighter to Debbie, who took a big hit, and then grabbed the secretary’s head and blew it hard and deep down into her lungs. The secretary coughed, her blue eyes glazing and a hint of red breaking through.
Debbie continued this process until the both of them were blazed out of their minds, feeling comfortable and loose.
The secretary was sitting down in her office chair, her muscles relaxed and her breathing slow and shallow. Debbie straddled her lap and sat down on top of her. She leaned in to make out, and the chair tipped back slightly with the movement, making both of the women erupt in giggles. Debbie pushed with more force, and the chair tipped over and the two women toppled onto the floor, with Debbie on top of the secretary straddling her with her own long legs.
The two women made out with dry cotton mouths, struggling to work up a spit. They kept getting interrupted by fits of giggles, and at one point the secretary let out a loud fart by accident, unable to control her body.
Debbie began nibbling on the secretary’s ear, eliciting soft peals of laughter that quickly turned into long moans of pleasure. Debbie stuck her tongue inside of the secretary’s ear, wiggling it around and tasting her ear wax. It had a flavor of weed to it, and Debbie guessed this girl was a heavy smoker. She probably peed pure THC. Scandinavia was a bit different from the United States in that way, more free.
As she was sucking on the secretary’s neck, Debbie unzipped part of her body suit, letting her beautiful tits bounce out. The secretary gasped in approval, and began fondling Debbie’s breasts, tweaking her nipples and letting out small squeals of delight.
“I like your body, yeah. You work out?” the secretary asked Debbie, rhetorically.
“You have a nice body yourself,” Debbie told her as she began to unbutton her silk blouse. The girl had nicely rounded, firm breasts with some of the pinkest nipples Debbie had ever seen.
Debbie began sucking on the secretary’s breasts, trying to suck the pink off her pretty pert nipples. The secretary was squirming and moaning, truly enjoying the treatment she was receiving.
When Debbie was done with the breasts, she pushed the secretary’s skirt up around her waist, moved the lacy hot pink thong to the side, and revealed a tight pink pussy with a tuft of white blond hair on the mons. “I see the carpet matches the drapes,” Debbie snickered. This sent the secretary into another wave of laughter, although Debbie suspected it was because she had no idea what this English colloquialism actually meant.
Debbie started lapping the girl’s moist pussy, separating the baby pink lips with her tongue. She grabbed a tuft of the blond pubic hair between her teeth and pulled, eliciting a sharp grunt of pain from the secretary. Sliding back the girl’s hood, she revealed a bright red bead of a clitoris and began to suck and swirl her tongue around it. The secretary started to moan in a pitch that was becoming increasingly loud and high. Concerned that she might alert someone nearby, Debbie removed the girl’s underwear, rolled it into a tight ball, and shoved it into the secretary’s mouth to silence her screams.
“Shhh,” Debbie reminded her with a finger in front of her lips. The secretary nodded with a stoned giggle.
Debbie resumed eating the girl’s pussy, delighting when the secretary gushed a hot stream of cum into her open mouth.
“My turn now,” Debbie told the girl, helping her off the ground.
Debbie unzipped her bodysuit all the way, and she leaned back against the desk with her ass in the air, her horny wet pussy dripping in anticipation.
“I have something for you,” the secretary told her. She reached into one of her drawers and pulled out a pink rabbit vibrator.
She inserted the vibrator and turned it on. It had rotating beads inside of the shaft at multiple positions, and a clitoral stimulator that was on high speed. The only problem was that it was incredibly loud.
“No!” Debbie said sharply.
The secretary turned off the vibrator meekishly.
“Just use it as a dildo,” Debbie told her.
The secretary complied, pushing the high-powered vibrator in and out of Debbie’s eager pussy, making her gasp in ecstasy. The vibrator was getting super wet, and the secretary put it in her mouth and gulped down all off Debbie’s pussy juices.
“Tastes very good,” she told Debbie, her accent coming through strong.
Instead of putting the vibrator back in Debbie’s vagina, she shoved it inside her asshole instead, and put her mouth on Debbie’s pussy, drinking in the juices like it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.
“Mmmm, that’s great,” Debbie told her with encouragement.
The secretary continued eating and fucking Debbie’s ass, grinding her own pussy against her legs in hot passion.
Debbie couldn’t take it any longer, and as the secretary’s tongue brushed against her swollen clitoris, she came hard and fast, covering the secretary’s face in a sticky sweet wetness.
The two women cleaned themselves off, and Debbie took a final hit off the hash pipe before she allowed the secretary to press the hidden button under the desk that opened a passageway to Lama’s chambers.
The secretary gave Debbie a quick peck on the cheek, and then she motioned her down a dark, dimly lit hall.
Debbie said goodbye to the kind stoner secretary, and then she set off down the passage. There were candlelit sconces on the wall, and the hallway was lower in temperature, with stone walls that were cool to the touch.
After a few minutes of wandering, Debbie arrived at two large wooden doors. There were two solid gold knockers on the doors, in the shape of lions heads. Debbie lifted one of the knockers and let it fall. The strong, resounding thud it made almost caused her to jump. She hadn’t expected such a loud noise.
No one answered, and there was no way to open the door from the outside, so Debbie had no choice but to try knocking again. She knocked three times before the door began to open with a loud creak.
The heavy doors opened and Debbie saw a short, petite brown woman in front of her. The woman was dressed in traditional garb, with her face covered up in a scarf. Her clothing was knit from silver and gold fibers, and there were jewels and crystals sewn into the fabric in elaborate and intricate patterns. The woman had the same beautiful, sharp green eyes as Amber.
“What are you doing here?” the woman said sharply and quickly, and ushered Debbie inside the room, shutting the heavy door behind them and locking it with a deadbolt.
The inside of the room was ornate. It was a large, hollow chamber that was decorated to the nines in oriental rugs, gold vases, giant jewels and gemstones, and a huge bed with silk drapes. It was a palatial suite fit for the richest woman in the world, that was for sure. Debbie noticed a huge bookcase against one wall, filled with ancient and expensive looking tomes. There was an old book spread out open on the bed, as if Debbie had just interrupted the old woman in the middle of reading.
Debbie felt something cold and hard against the side of her head. The woman had a gun held to her temple. The cold steel awoke Debbie bitterly from her comfortable hash haze.
“What are you here for?” the woman asked in a desperate tone, the gun shaking slightly in her hand.
“Put down you gun please,” Debbie implored her. “I am here in peace.”
The wom
an’s hands stopped shaking, but she did not lower the gun.
“I will tell you everything, Miss Lama. But please, put the gun down. I mean you no harm,” Debbie told her.
This time, the woman listened. She lowered the gun, and instructed Debbie to take a seat on the large bed.
Debbie explained to Lama why she was there. She told her about the adventures in Las Vegas, and about how Sheik Oscar was taking advantage of her daughter Amber. She recounted the love story between Amber and Billy Ann, and how Oscar had decided that Amber was to have her clitoris removed.
“I am here to try to help your daughter, Amber,” Debbie told the woman.
Lama lowered her head scarf around her shoulder, revealing a thick, braided ponytail of graying hair. The older woman had a serene elegance to her.
“Amber does not want to be operated on like that,” Debbie told Lama. “She asked us to find you so that you could help save her.”
“So, this whole kidnapping has been a joke?” Lama asked Debbie.
“I’m sorry, Lama. We did not mean to worry you. It was the only way we could think of to find you,” Debbie told her.
“Who is ‘we’?” Lama asked.
“I work for a woman named Harriet. She has a whole team of female spies in the United States. We work for justice and to protect the rights of women everywhere,” Debbie said with pride.
Lama’s eyes jumped at the mention of Harriet.
“I know Harriet,” she told Debbie. “We went to college together, many years ago.”
Lama told Debbie the story of her college days. Harriet had been one of many wealthy young women in the freshman class at Smith College, and the two of them lived in the same dormitory.
Debbie’s eyes widened as she heard the story of her boss as a much younger woman, she tried to imagine the Harriet she knew today compared to the curious young girl that Lama was describing. It was hard to believe someone as serious as Harriet could have ever been a carefree young college kid.
Harriet and Lama had an ongoing love affair during their college years. The two women were best of friends and closest of lovers. They had experimented with tantric sex and with ancient love making techniques even older than the Kama Sutra. Harriet had awoken Lama’s womanhood, and secured her conviction that she was a lesbian.
Unfortunately, like so many college love stories, at graduation things had to end. Lama’s parents had arranged for her to marry a noble young man of good breeding, the man that would become Amber’s father.
The first two years of marriage, Lama had refused to have sex with her husband. He was a good, caring man and he exhibited the utmost of patience, assuming that Lama was simply being shy and coy. However, after two years without producing an heir or becoming pregnant, Lama’s family became concerned. They confronted their daughter, who broke down and admitted to her lesbian love affair at Smith College and her feeling of revulsion towards men. Her parents were outraged, and they demanded that she consummate the marriage with her husband and produce an heir. They gave her a year to meet this deadline.
When a year had passed and Lama still had not obeyed her parents’ wishes, they scheduled her for a clitorodectomy. Her parents felt that removing her clitoris was the only way to curb her lesbian tendencies and turn her into a reputable woman.
Lama agreed to the procedure and she let the doctor’s remove her clitoris. Soon thereafter, she submitted to her husband, and within a year she had conceived Amber.
Lama had vowed to her father that she would keep all of her lesbian escapades a secret from the world, and she shoved her desire deep within herself and locked it away in a special chamber in her heart and threw away the key. When Amber’s father died, Lama remarried quickly, as was proper and becoming to a woman of her position. Her new husband was cruel and mean. He never knew of her lesbian past, and he would not tolerate anything other than total submission in bed. He was nothing like the sweet, sensitive father of Amber who she had managed to grow to love, despite his being a man. Soon, she gave birth to a son, Sheik Oscar. Lama despised her new husband and her new son, and she quickly withdrew from the world, hiding out in secret villas throughout Europe, enjoying her privacy and celibacy. She spent her time alone reading ancient texts and growing in knowledge. She learned from her texts that lesbianism was as old as human culture itself, and even practiced among primates, the ancestors of men. She came to believe that matriarchy was the natural form of society, and men had taken power away from women by denying them their natural sexual desires and their need for sisterhood and forcing them into arranged marriages. Lama had written several texts on women’s rights and women’s freedom, all published under fake names.
Debbie listened to Lama’s story with care and interest. She now saw in front of her not the world’s richest woman, but a woman who was sad and lonely and suppressed. She saw a woman who had been made small by fear and by a promise she had made to her father so many years ago.
“Your father is dead now, Lama. But your daughter is still alive, and she needs your help,” Debbie told her. “Do you really want Amber to experience the same sadness and pain that you have been forced to live with?”
Lama shook her head no.
“Of course not,” Lama said, moving her garments aside. “I don’t want Amber to experience this pain.” She showed Debbie her scarred vagina, there was a large mass of scar tissue where her clitoris used to be.
Lama began to weep, and Debbie held her body close and let her cry.
“It will be okay,” Debbie comforted her. “You are the richest woman in the world, you have power beyond what you even comprehend. And the world is changing. You can take a stand; you have the power to change things. Your parents are dead and you have no honor to protect except that of yourself and your daughter. All of your pain and suffering will be transformed if you use it to help others.”
Lama agreed. She decided that she would make a public statement on television about her own sexual preferences, and she would take responsibility for the many tracts on women’s sexual freedom that she had written under pseudonyms. She would also speak out against sexual operations on females, including the tradition of clitoris removal. She promised Debbie that she would make sure that Amber’s clitoris remained intact.
Debbie thanked her and the woman embraced in a soulful hug.
Freedom Flowing
Debbie, Billy Ann, Amber, Harriet, Lama, and the harem girls were watching a big screen TV in the sky box at “Spread Me.” Nala was refilling glasses of champagne as quickly as she could, struggling to keep up with the celebrating girls.
The television was showing Lama’s announcement to the Middle Eastern world about the value of women and the joys of lesbianism. Lama pronounced that she would invest as much money as was needed to put an end to female clitoris removal. Amber gave her a hug, and squeezed Billy Ann’s hand tightly when she heard this pronouncement. She was so relieved that the surgery that Sheik Oscar had ordered had been called off.
Speaking of Sheik Oscar, he was tied up in the corner of the sky box, naked, with his dick hanging out and tied up with rope. The harem girls walked by and spat on him or gave him a playful swat of degradation whenever they felt the urge, and Nala had already beaten up on him quite a bit in revenge. He kept a proud look on his face, but it was clear for anyone to see that he was humiliated and his pride was broken.
The television showed Saudi Arabian women rejoicing in Lama’s coming out. Many had removed their traditional garments and were dressed in sexier attire. Women were smoking cigarettes and drinking alcohol. There were shots of Saudi women driving cars. Even more surprising, there was footage of women making out, hugging and kissing in the streets. What an amazing transformation, and it was all because Lama had gained the courage to speak out in order to save her beloved daughter.
“I’m so proud of you,” Harriet told Lama, taking the older woman’s hand in her own.
Lama smiled and took a sip of champagne, but she still seemed sad and dis
tant.
“You still look so tense,” Harriet told her. “We are in Las Vegas, you should relax. Nothing bad will happen to you here. Americans respect money and they love sexuality, you are safe. Plus, don’t you know the English saying, ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?’” Harriet asked her.
Lama shook her head no.
“Well, let me show you how it works in action,” Harriet laughed and led Lama out of the sky box and down to the dance floor.
Debbie, Billy Ann, and Lama’s daughter Amber watched as the two older woman began a sexy, funky dance out on the dance floor. They were both still beautiful in their age, and as they danced Lama seemed to grow more relaxed and even younger. They must have requested that the DJ play a song from back when they were young, because the music was something none of the women in the booth recognized. Lama and Harriet seemed to know it well, however, and the harem girls laughed as they watched the older women doing dance moves that looked like they belonged back on the floor of Studio 54 back in the 1970s.
After their dance in the spotlight, the music changed back to something more contemporary, and Lama and Harriet followed the dance moves of the other patrons and began grinding against each other in slow, rhythmic motion.
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