We Meet at Last

Perhaps we daydreamed, perhaps we dozed, perhaps we cuddled, perhaps we lost empires, perhaps we conquered universes, who knows? Next I recall clearly was us two kissing once more. Not with the hard passion of that first embrace but with the long languorousness of the truly sated, the genuinely satisfied, yet still our ferocity was sufficient to suggest that our lips would never again be divided. My desire was rekindling but, rather than rush headlong through purely carnal gratification I turned my thoughts to other sources of indulgence. The basement was a feast for the senses and I was determined to overload you with stimulation. "Hot chocolate and cake?" I enquired, laughing mischievously.

"Oh yes please!" You exclaimed with an enthusiasm that suggested a second orgasm had just been offered to you. In a tangential way it had been, we had awoken one greed in each other that was for a while to appear insatiable. I staggered to my feet, my head still spinning with swirling emotions. First the remote. I'd, pre-set Hunk Dory on low with lots of base; not for rhythm or punch but for atmosphere. Find the fridge. Pull the door open. Find the milk. Lift out the carton. My mind had frozen. Everything had to be simple. I had to plan each move carefully. Each operation thought through individually. Every action made studiously. I was stupid and stupefied with satisfaction. I dreamt my way around that little kitchen, boiling, pouring, cutting and dishing up, all done in a haze. I was aware of you, you were searching or exploring, looking in cupboards, opening drawers but I was not resentful, not even curious: you were hunting for pleasures to come. There were many there just waiting for you to discover them.

I returned bearing a tray. You were sprawled upon the floor cushions, eyes still glazed, legs slightly parted. As I handed you a mug of the steaming brew you sat up and looked me deep in the eyes. "Thank you. Please, be seated," you indicated the armless chair which you had pulled away from the wall and set before one of the long mirrors.

The deal had been that I was to direct but you had obviously decided to take over. I considered reasserting, or perhaps merely asserting, my authority but curiosity got the better of me and I replied "yes mistress," and sat down.

"Sit forwards, spread your legs wide; study your sex in the mirror, spread it wide, I'm going to make you come in a few minutes. I know you can come again and again and I want to see that. I want to hear myself pleasuring you over and over." Suddenly this was all a lot more difficult, suddenly I desperately wanted to close my knees and mash my thighs together to ease the pressure building between them. My nipples stiffened and you laughed. "See you'll be ready in next to no time."

"Look at you, sat with your nipples standing out, your legs splayed so wide, I can smell your need from here, just how wet are you? From the smell, dripping, I'm just talking and you're soaked, you're as big a slut as I am! Here watch me, who's worse?"

I expected you to masturbate in front of me but no you stood holding a huge wodge of cake, with one gigantic bite taken from it in one hand and in the other a USB stick that you had somehow smuggled in. Trailing a track of crumbs you moved across to the computer and turned on the screen. A string of videos you had recommended to me were lined up on the screen ready for you. You smiled at my forethought, ignored them, plugged in your own memory stick and husked "here's something new for you to see." As you maximised the view I saw you sat, your legs spread wider than mine even, circling your clearly visible clit with just one finger. Your breathing was deep and regular but slow and laboured too as you panted with the effort of going so slowly, you were right on the edge. "Remember this?"

I didn't specifically, it was a favourite of mine, bring yourself right to the edge then keep circling your clitoris slow enough not to come; I'd had you do that dozens of times. Then I understood and my wet quimm gushed, it was me telling you what to do and you had recorded it; but when and how long was there to go? For I knew that you would have me copy you.

"Take that hand away!" you barked. Without thinking my hand had strayed to part my lips and I was about to stroke my swollen clit to ease the throbbing. I withdrew the offending limb hastily. "Watch what you did to me, see how you have tortured and tormented me in the past."

"Oh God not that!" your screen form expostulated, "God, not right now." You raised your palms to your nipples uncertainly but then braced yourself and commenced rubbing the tips of your red teats with just the palms of your hands. You wriggled and writhed in desperation, your eyes held wide and you lips clamped inwards, trapped between your teeth. Air rasped through your nose nosily and you closed your eyes gradually as you fought the intensity of the feelings you were creating. Despite biting your lips so firmly little squawks of frustration escaped intermittently. "Well Susan, follow the actions, let's see if you really can take what you dish out so readily."

"Yes Kirsty," I responded meekly. I thought I had been wet, teasing my nipples in that manner made me realise that before I had merely been a little damp because now I was becoming properly wet.

"Follow the actions Susan, I want you to feel how you've made me feel." On-screen Kirsty withdrew her hand and just sat there. I copied and my pussy screamed out in protest; if doing anything was almost impossible, to sit doing nothing at all was far, far worse.

'Oh my God,' I thought, 'I'll tell her to rub her clit again next and obviously I did. First I had to rub my clitoris with two fingers, then slide one in and out of my sopping wet pussy tube and finally circle my clitoris with that well lubricated digit endlessly. I went more and more slowly, it was an agony, I so wanted to come. I wondered who was more desperate me or on-screen Kirsty, judging from her expression it were a close run contest. Christ! I was mean, after very extended clitty teasing I had made you roll and pinch your nipples, both at once too. Frantically, I attempted to recall how long I had made you go on that evening. Too long my hapless sex screamed at me by way of reply, far too long.

By the fourth cycle of pushing my muff to the very edge, playing with my nipples and then, and by far the worst part, doing nothing at all, I could think of nothing other than coming. "Please Kirsty, no more. Please Kirsty, just let me come."

"But it's not me in control, it's you," you smirked. You are following your instructions here, I'm just the conduit relaying them to you. 'Help,' I thought, 'my poor nipples were so sensitive, every time I touched them I wanted to cry, to let big fat tears roll down my cheeks. I could taste blood in my mouth so hard had I bitten down on my lips. When we next touched our clit's our mouths flew open as we groaned and I caught the merest glimpse of crimson in your mouth; you too had gnawed upon you lip so hard you had split it. But where was the pain? We were anaesthetised with the trauma of our lust.

As your on-screen persona and I tormented our teats yet again you advanced toward me ominously with jaw set purposefully and an evil grin spread across your face. "Oh God! no Kirsty. Please, I'm begging. Please no! Don't." You had cut the action to a view of your computer screen. My latest message read, "If I were there right now I would suck your nipples until you screamed." You grabbed my wrists, forced my hands above my head and took a solid nipple between your lips. As you drew it into your mouth with you lips and flicked your wet tongue across the end of my swollen teat I did indeed scream and my poor pussy parped and pooted as it flexed its response. I blushed at the distinctive sound and you laughed openly. At that moment your on-screen self climaxed massively, coinciding with the law man beating up the wrong guy, I hoped that were not an omen, for if it were it was an ill one for me.

I screamed once more, this time in raw pain. You had bitten my teat hard causing me a searing agony and provoking me to utter an uncharacteristic string of obscenities, "Oh fuck. Oh shit. Jesus Kirsty. Jesus that hurt. That really fucking hurt me Kirsty!" I should have known it, it was the prelude to your assault on my other teat. First you sucked and flicked, then bit savagely and this time as I screamed my sex gushed as it readied itself to accommodate the invasion it hoped was to follow. "No more Kirsty. I beg you, please no more teasing. Can't take more tease. Please, not tease."

"Shuffle forwards then Susan, you little slut, and I will make you come. I can't have your virginity but I can take this! And as I slipped forwards Kirsty speared my arse with a stiff but well lubricated finger."

I grunted, but not with discomfort, my response was extracted by the sheer novelty of the sensation. Furthermore, the pure dirtiness of what had just been done to me made me lustier than ever. Before I could react Kirsty began to lap at my clitoris and an uncontrollable orgasm began to form. As I exploded I felt my anus tighten upon that invading finger and, just as my climax ought to have begum to subside, you slid your probing digit away, amplifying my orgasm to a new and higher level. Even as I came I felt shattered. I needed a rest but Kirsty you horror, you cared not one jot, your tongue maintained a relentless and remorseless pressure upon my now over delicate little bud and you finger once more buried itself inside my previously unsullied rear cavity. You were licking my clit and fingering my anus and it was heavenly.

Your unceasing attentions soon forced a second orgasm upon me, it followed hard upon the heels of the first leaving me no real time to recover; it were just as intense and was again boosted by the timely withdrawal of that probing finger. The orgasm you bestowed upon me to complete my trio was altogether different; not in terms of its body wracking power but in the sensation it generated. This time licking my clit was secondary to you invading my pussy with two stiff fingers and then bending and flexing them so I felt myself being stretched wide. I would have quickly come from that glorious attack anyway but before I did the tip of one of those fingers located that little spot in the roof of my vagina and concentrated its efforts there. If the first climax was an explosion this were an implosion, the result was superficially the same, a massive orgasm, but the quality was totally different, a massive collapsing of the senses compressing them down into one single overwhelming feeling; I had come mightily hard!

In the end I was so disorientated that I fell forwards toppling you over backwards and as we collided we kissed. I sucked the sweet nectar from right out of your mouth and in response I felt you supping mine. Our embrace, unexpected as it were, soon became a bear hug. But, nevertheless, despite my gratitude for those three earth moving orgasms I was going to reassert my authority over you, you were going to plead and beg, but for what? What a delicious question, I thought; mercy! You would beg for mercy alright. Action, however, had to be postponed, I was exhausted, utterly spent and this time, whilst I sagged like a wet dishcloth, it was you who went to make some tea and discover what types of biscuits I had selected in case we felt peckish.

As I groped for the chair in which I planned to sit and recuperate, my hand settled upon the little pot of grease you had used to lubricate the finger you had slipped inside of my neither passage before you forced me to come so very hard. A favour I was, in a short while, definitely going to return. But you had been a naughty girl and I was determined that you ought to be punished for your crimes to my flesh, you had forced me to commit two sins, seducing me into succumbing to both lust and greed at the same time: I was going to make you atone.

A tray of tea and, not mere biscuits but my lemon drizzle cake too; all served by my little minx, a welcome sight. You had eschewed the tea service and brought sensible mugs depicting Pooh and Tigger, obliviously my clearing out had not been as careful as I thought. Best of all though, you had wisely brewed a large pot. I was hungry but when I checked the clock it was already almost nine; where had the hours gone to? Time had flown by slipping past us. We both demolished two huge wedges of the cake rapidly, I would have called you pig if I had not matched you, we were pair of pigs, lazy pink pigs slouching around in our own squalor.

"Have I shown you the shower yet?" It appeared I had not done so, so I did. You squealed when you saw the extent of it, delight written all over your face. Then, to my amazement, you unselfconsciously plonked yourself down upon the lavatory and proceeded to pee nosily. "I'll just check the hot water," I stammered and disappeared. Sweet, charming and utterly delectable as you were - as you are - I was not quite ready to watch you wipe. It makes me laugh, here was a woman who had just had her finger stuffed in my bum and I did not want to watch her wipe the dribbles away from her pussy.

A huge hot shower, two lusty naked women, soaps, bubbles, oils and scents, the shower soon contained two hot women. I loved the feel of your slippery flesh under my soapy hands, how your nipples sprung back when my thumbs slid over them, the silkiness of your bush, darker and more hairy than mine but not at all course or wiry. We slid and slithered around one another, kissing, massaging and giggling; lots and lots of silly adolescent giggling, two naughty school girls. The towels were just outside, white and vast, I had sewn these utterly outsized monstrosities myself. We took turns to pat and preen one another dry, then style each other's hair. I'm useless and you ended up looking like a bush but my shoulder rub made up for my other inabilities. You relaxed, you lolled, you sagged and as you entered a state of semi-somnolence I struck.

"Kirsty you were a very naughty girl, teasing me like that. And then you penetrated my previously inviolate and virgin arse without even thinking to consult me about that." You giggled and squirmed but did not move. "I'm sorry Kirsty but I will have to punish you for your impudence. Follow me." I took your hand and half led, half dragged you back to the soft chair where, not so long ago, I had sat as you tormented me. I seated myself and, leaning forwards, first suckled upon your left and then you right nipple. You sighed quietly and shuddered gently; obviously you had recovered from your earlier orgasm and were building towards a new one. I pulled you over my knee, face down, backside up and began to work your warm damp slit with one hand, fingers playing with your pussy, thumb working the crack of your bottom. I used my other, free, hand to tickle and stroke your back, the swell of your buttocks and the backs of your plump white thighs.

My probing fingers met with less and less resistance as your sex busily lubricated itself. When I worked your clit by alternating between fast and slow strokes you began to sigh and after I had slipped two fingers of my other hand inside of you, you groaned passionately. I maintained my rubbing and probing until the irregularities in your breathing suggested to me that an orgasm was impending. I slowed right down and your gyrations indicated that I was quite correct, you were close to the edge and desperate not to lose the stimulation. So I stopped, raised my right hand high and spanked your bare bottom. "But, you, were, a, naughty, girl," the intervals between the words punctuated with hard slaps to your right buttock.

"Hey, stop that. Susan, stop it. Susan it's not funny, it hurts." You did wriggle a little and your cheek was a little reddened in places, but hurt? It stung when I hit you, sure it did, my fingers still smarted too, but hurt?. And afterwards, it left a warm tingly, slightly uncomfortable glow, I could see that. Anyway, you dirty slut, despite your howls of protest, you made no effort what-so-ever to wriggle away and escape from me. Which was just as well because I were not done. "You, teased, me, far, too, much," each word spaced by an equally sharp smack to the left buttock. Now your buttocks blazed but when my fingers resumed their stroking of your lips and your wet red bud and probing inside your sex you started to purr like some strange type of outsized cat. Now that disturbing ruddy glow served to emphasise the pleasure you were receiving and I was soon marvelling at just how wet you had become.

"You, dirty, slut, you, pushed, me" six much harder slaps to the right buttock, my fingers stung more than your bottom I suspected, next time it would be the back of a wooden spoon or a wood handled hair brush that beat your posterior to that vivid redness. "Far, to, far, here's, your, reward," and it was, six hard slaps to the left cheek, a mistress has to maintain symmetry, after all it's good for the chi of the servant. 'You are beginning to enjoy this,' I thought. Oh your protests were more voluble now and much more adamant than previously but your struggles were muted and you even pushed your bottom a little higher to take more of the impact. After the smacking was done it was me biting my lips to hide the dreadful stinging in my hand.

You huffed and puffed as I teased your little love bud for a third time and as I stretched the opening to your sex utilising at first just two but soon three fingers to stimulate that sopping crevice of yours. Your minge was thick with a sticky gloop that clung to my fingers and made everything slide over everything else so frictionlessly. If I were careful I could press hard as I rubbed a fingertip over your clit, an action that made you wail with frustration and desire. "Susan. Susan, let me come now I'm ready." What a pitiable little wail. Anyway, tease and be teased; you were going to have to wait.

"You, want, to, come, your, slut." At last I was beginning to hurt you, you both protested loudly at the five vigorous slaps to your right rump and attempted to wriggle away from the blows in a fruitless effort to ameliorate their severity. "Should, I, let, you, come, slut?"

Even as I walloped your left buttock you whined, "Yes please Susan, please let me come."

"In a moment my little poppet, but first I need to tease your sex again. I don't want a slot or a gully, I want a gushing, gurgling, gorge, I want to hear the lobby of your love tunnel babbling like a brook. Before I trigger your release I want you ragged and rabid with desire." I chuckled to myself, you were beginning to blur the distinction between pleasure and pain; Amanda, an earlier encounter on Literotica, had been right about this. You certainly gushed for me: gushed and pumped and poured; writhed, wriggled and squirmed; cried, sighed and groaned. You were most definitely ready.

"Sit here," I whispered and you took my place. You sat and I knelt between your legs, forcing them wide apart. I invaded you dripping cave with my rabbit, carefully set the bullet to your clitoris and switched everything on at full power. Holding the vibe with one hand I slipped a greasy finger inside of your bottom. At that point I'm not sure you even noticed.

Your vocabulary was suddenly reduced to a few expletives, 'oh shit,' 'fucking' and 'hell' either individually or in permutations. Little doubt that you were climaxing, wave after wave of pleasure running through you in one long, strong, gut wrenching, chest heaving, bum wiggling orgasm. It soon knocked the wind out of you and I had to shove you backwards firmly to prevent you from toppling over into me. And I discovered your dirty but clever secret, every time you spasmed I could feel your bum contracting down upon my finger. So to push you further all I had to do was withdraw it when I felt a constriction and after, push it back inside as you relaxed, transforming your easing of tension into a sensation of being stretched. The change in tenor and the little hitch in your breathing when I did these told me these helped enormously.