My dominant friend Angela soon gave up on the idea of trying to mold me into an obedient and submissive partner. I enjoy playing her power games — anyone who can make me cum five times in an hour and still have me begging for more is not easily resisted — but outside of the bedroom I really don’t like being told what to do. Besides which, there’s not a chance I will ever give up cock; Angela’s big black strap-on is a poor substitute for the real thing.
Luckily Angela found a far better candidate in gorgeous Isla; I’ve written about their relationship before, in On Display and Dessert. Angela delights in pointing out all the ways in which Isla’s behavior is superior to mine. I actually don’t mind sitting through her lectures on obedience if it means I get to watch Isla eat her pussy. She does it so beautifully.
So that’s why I’m sitting here demurely in Angela’s drawing room, hands in my lap, pretending to listen to as she proclaims: “A submissive girl must obey her Mistress at all times. She must never question her Mistress. Why? Because her Mistress knows exactly what she needs. Her Mistress knows her deepest, darkest desires better than she knows herself. Isla is learning to be obedient at all times, unlike you…”
Actually I’m watching Isla’s face. She is kneeling, her eyes downcast, awaiting Angela’s instructions. She is wearing black lingerie, an exotic bodysuit that somehow makes her look even more exposed than if she were naked.
Angela, barely looking in her direction, issues the single word command, “Drink.” Isla immediately moves to pour her a tumbler of whiskey from the decanter, then kneels again, head bowed as she offers up the glass to her Mistress. Pleased with the overt show of deference, Angela casts a look in my direction that says, See! This is how to behave! I nod, although honestly I would enjoy the show just as much if Isla hurled the drink in her face. I know there’s a little spitfire in there, buried deep. That’s what makes Isla so compelling to watch. All that suppressed passion; I hope I’m there to witness the day this volcano erupts.
Angela ignores us both for a while, and then issues another command: “Touch yourself.”
A faint flush creeps across Isla’s creamy skin as she stands, perching her bottom on the edge of the table, and slides a hand between her legs. She undoes the snap fastening at the crotch of the bodysuit, smiling shyly at Angela. One hand starts to squeeze her breast through the black lace of the suit, while the other moves over her pussy, her manicured nails gleaming as her fingertips stroke circles on her clit. I force myself not to wriggle as I watch Isla lick her fingers and rub her clit harder. She’s breathing heavily, torn between embarrassment and arousal.
“Don’t cum until I say you can.” The command is directed at Isla, but I know it applies to me too. Angela glances at me, sternly, but I see a gleam of amusement in her eyes. She can tell how much watching Isla is turning me on; and it would be just like her to eject me from the room now, to teach me another of her precious lessons in ‘obedience.’ Bitch, I think to myself, careful not to let the thought show on my face.
Isla’s fingers slow momentarily, but really she’s too far gone to fight the urge towards pleasure. She’s so wet I can hear the juicy, sticky sounds as she spreads her plump lips open and rubs her clit, her breath coming in little moans and gasps.
Angela takes off the silk tie she is wearing with her tailored shirt, and leans forward, stroking it against Isla’s inner thigh, making her shiver. She stands and loops it around Isla’s neck, like a leash. Isla’s moans grow louder. Fuck, they look good together. I want…
“You may touch yourself, Rose,” Angela says imperiously. Part of me wants to rebel; how dare she think she can tell me what to do? But of course it’s exactly what I want to do, need to do. I pull my skirt up just enough that I can slide a hand into my panties, but that’s not what Angela wants from me.
“Let me see,” she says, and it’s not a request. She has the upper hand, just as she always does.
I lift my skirt right up, slide off my panties and spread my thighs, so she can see my fingers sink into my soaked slit. Isla meets my eyes and a silent communication flashes between us:
I’m so turned on…
Ohmygod me too!
How does she do this?
Then her head tips back, eyes closing as Angela tightens the leash, tugs down the bodysuit to expose her breasts, and starts squeezing and pinching her nipples. She turns Isla around and bends her over the table. Her ass cheeks looks so perfect, creamy and unblemished; the vivid red handprint that appears as Angela spanks her is almost as shocking as the sound of the slap. Isla freezes for a second.
“Did I tell you to stop masturbating?”
At once, Isla’s hand moves back to her pussy, and now she’s given up all pretence at holding back, rocking against her fingers as Angela spanks her harder. Her cries of mingled pain and pleasure are driving me crazy, and then Angela thrusts two fingers deep inside the slippery channel between Isla’s thighs and starts fucking her roughly, slamming into her hard and fast.
“Don’t cum until I say you can,” Angela reminds her, grinding deep, then pulling out to spank her clit rapidly before thrusting back in even harder. Isla is delirious with the pleasure and frustration, the furious need to cum, almost sobbing as she rides Angela’s fingers.
Angela pulls away abruptly.
“Now lick me,” she commands.
Shaking with pent-up emotion and the desperate need for release, Isla sinks to her knees. Angela pulls up her skirt. She has no panties on, and I can see the juice glistening on her hairy pussy as she leans back against the table and spreads her legs so Isla can eat her.
She shoots me a triumphant look as Isla devotes her whole attention to giving her Mistress pleasure, her own needs neglected. “Good girl,” Angela purrs, as Isla’s tongue laps up and down her clit, lips suctioning around it. She grabs the leash, pulling Isla’s face to her crotch. “Put your fingers inside me.”
Seeing stern, domineering Angela lose control is somehow even more exciting because it’s so out of character. Handsome face contorted in ecstasy, her moans reach a crescendo, and grinding her wet cunt on Isla’s mouth she climaxes noisily.
But as soon as she’s cum, Angela regains her composure, straightening her clothes and sitting down as if nothing has happened. The thought of her creamed-up pussy concealed under her prim skirt, juice trickling down her thighs to dampen the fabric, pushes me further towards the orgasm I’m so desperately craving. And now she turns that laser-like attention on me, fixing me with her stare, so as much as I can feel the rising swell and burn of pleasure under my sliding fingers, I don’t dare succumb to it.
“You girls finish each other off,” she says dismissively.
Immediately, Isla moves between my legs, and the sensation of her tongue pressing firmly over my clit as her fingers push into me is so blissful that I don’t care about Angela’s victorious smirk. It doesn’t take long for Isla to make me cum, tongue and fingers moving in unison to coax me over the edge.
All my jumbled feelings of humiliation and anger, my desire to resist Angela’s authority, are dampened by the soporific effect of my orgasm. Isla takes my hand surreptitiously, squeezing it, and I know she understands just how I feel.
I push her onto her back and plunge my tongue into her luscious heat, lapping at her honeyed folds. She cums quickly too, but I don’t stop; I figure she deserves more than one orgasm after Angela’s kept her on the edge for so long. Finally, when she’s too sensitive to cum any more, she pushes me away.
“Thank you,” she murmurs; but she’s not speaking to me. “Thank you, Mistress.”
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