Forever Bound. Elizabeth Coldwell
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was taking hold. Ooh, yes, I could feel it now. Every time Madeline squeezed the pump and it made that stifled wheezing sound, my pussy felt more pressurised. It was sort of like getting my clit sucked, except the pump acted on more than just my clit. The cup encompassed my entire mound, all the way around my fleshy pussy lips. I imagined this was how it felt to get sucked by an Amazon, one so huge she could stretch her lips all the way over my cunt.
‘Her pussy’s getting so red!’ Diana cried, even though Madeline had told her to stay silent.
Madeline didn’t chastise her for speaking, but merely asked, ‘Can you feel it, Eva? Does it feel good?’
‘Yes,’ I panted. The slow sucking was catching up with me, and I could feel an orgasm swirling at the base of my belly. The pump wasn’t familiar, but it was certainly effective.
‘Tell Eva how her pussy looks now,’ Madeline told Diana.
The suction grew so strong my pussy lips felt huge inside the pump cup.
‘It’s swollen,’ Diana said. ‘Her pussy is almost purple. Her clit’s like a cherry.’
Those words made me writhe against my bindings, but there was no escape. I wanted to fuck something, grind on something. The pump made me hot and horny and super-sensitive, but it wouldn’t let me come. God, I wanted to come!
‘Take off her blindfold, Diana.’
When Diana removed the satin slip from my eyes, I gasped at what she was wearing: no frumpy choir conductor outfit, not any more. She’d changed into leather pants and a black bustier that scarcely concealed her striking breasts. Diana always wore vests to choir rehearsals. I’d never really thought of her as having breasts at all.
Madeline was still pumping me, and every squeeze was now intolerably tight. My pussy lips felt huge enough to break the plastic cup, and when she removed it Diana held a mirror between my legs so I could see.
‘That’s me?’ I asked, as if it could be anyone else.
‘That’s you,’ Madeline answered.
My pussy lips looked enormous, and they really were swollen and reddish-purple, just like Diana had said. They didn’t look real. In fact, the sight of my pussy like that, all distended and huge, made me feel a little squeamish. Madeline must have seen it in my face, because she asked if I’d like my blindfold back on.
‘Yes,’ I said without hesitation. I could handle the sensation, just maybe not the sight.
Diana tied the blindfold over my eyes, looser than Madeline had, but it still did the job. Once I was back in my world of darkness, I felt much more comfortable. I was all sensation, all lust and desire, and Madeline knew just how to satisfy it.
‘Lick her,’ she instructed Diana. ‘Gently, gently. She’s going to be very sensitive.’
My heart raced when I felt my choirmaster’s breath on my hot, swollen cunt. I’d wanted Madeline to lick me, but I was so overwhelmingly horny I’d have let anyone get me off.
The moment Diana’s tongue met my pussy lips, I arched back with a violence that surprised me. Every time Diana licked my huge clit, I jerked back even harder, and every time I jerked back my thighs spread farther apart. It was hard to imagine my choirmaster’s face between my legs. I’d fantasised about Madeline licking my clit, but there was something even more twisted and exciting about Diana doing it at her command.
I fought my ties, screaming as my leather-clad choirmaster lapped my pussy. Her wet tongue sizzled against my skin. The pump had made my lips monstrous and so sensitive that I wanted to buck and writhe, but Madeline’s ties held fast. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t see, and that made me so claustrophobic I started struggling even harder.
Diana’s tongue lashed my fat clit hard enough to transform me from a demure chorister to a wild beast. I gripped my ankles, pressing the ropes into my flesh, feeling them bite into my skin. My heart pounded in my ears. The explosions between my legs travelled through my core, and when Madeline placed those metal clamps back on my tits the fireworks were everywhere. Sheer pleasure-pain burst from my nipples to my clit, where Diana worked hard for my exultation.
‘Enough,’ Madeline instructed, drawing Diana away from my tender pumped-up pussy. I was panting and ecstatic when I felt Madeline’s water bottle against my lips. ‘Here, baby. Drink up. Drink some water.’
Her deep voice soothed me just like the tepid water soothed my throat. She was taking care of me, petting my hair, speaking kind words, giving me drink. The care was as good as the pain, but only in conjunction with the pain. For me, one without the other seemed sadly incomplete.
Once Diana had removed my blindfold, both women untied my bonds. My knees ached, locked into the position they’d held far too long. Madeline rubbed her hands together and pressed her hands to my knees, relieving the ache. Her silver rings were hot on my skin, and I almost wished they were hot enough to burn me. I would love to be branded by her.
They let me lie on the desk, creating a makeshift pillow out of my clothes. They kissed my blazing skin with their fingertips. For a while, I listened to them talking about music, performances, nothing in particular. Their voices were the white noise of a relationship in recovery.
I didn’t know then that I would fit into their joint existence. I’d placed Madeline on a pedestal and barely noticed Diana, but together as a couple they gave me everything I needed … and so much more.
The Billiard Room
Tabitha Rayne
‘Thank you, don’t mind if I do.’ Zoe Lake slipped into the finely upholstered chair, making sure to keep her knees locked primly together.
‘Milk or lemon?’ Lady Tate-Fitzpatrick asked. In one hand she held a small jug, in the other a perfect slice of fruit, hovering over the teacup.
‘Oh.’ Zoe glanced at the other two women’s cups, hoping to get a hint about what would be best in this situation. She plumped for what she’d prefer. ‘Milk, please,’ she said, smiling as demurely as she could. I am a businesswoman, I have every right to be here, these people are my clients, they contacted me. She’d recited her mantra so many times since she got the call to measure up Lady Fitzpatrick’s windows for new curtains that she knew it now by its rhythm rather than the words. She’d gone around all four public rooms, each with two huge bay windows, and dutifully and very carefully measured the lot. Her notes were stowed away carefully in her leather briefcase on the Persian rug by her side. Lady Tate-Fitzpatrick’s friend had come along to oversee and advise. ‘I have appalling taste,’ Lady TP had stated by way of explaining the other woman’s presence.
Four or five home-interior magazines lay fanned out on the coffee table before them. The Lady reached out with perfect poise and picked one up. ‘Well, I suppose we should really think about colour schemes and fabrics. Did you bring your sample book?’ she said in the brusque tone that Zoe was only just getting used to. Every time the Lady addressed her, it felt as if she was administering a sharp slap on the hand, and Zoe had to remind herself, every time, that this was just her way.
‘Yes, of course, it’s in my car, I won’t be a sec,’ she said, flustered that she’d forgot to bring it in. She rose from her seat and, as she was making her way across the rug, the door opened and a striking silver-haired man popped his head around and addressed the women.
‘Are you done yet? I can’t be doing with every Tom, Dick and Harry’s car cluttering up my driveway …’
Zoe’s breath caught at the back of her throat. She couldn’t believe how rude the man had been, and in any other circumstance she would have told him exactly what she thought of his behaviour, but something about the situation made her nervy as a schoolgirl.
‘Oh, I … I’m sorry, sir,’ she stammered as she came close to him, ‘I shan’t be long.’ His eyes dragged their way from her shoes to her legs, thighs and stomach and lingered lightly at