Hannah and Sara - F/f, b/d by JYM
A Walk In The Park.
My name is Hannah Jensen and I'm a happily married woman. Very
happily married. I'm thirty-one years old, have a 13 month old
daughter named Sarah, and a wonderful husband, Jim, who's a CPA. We've
been married for six years and it's been wonderful. Jim is the
classic 'tall, dark and handsome' man that every girl dreams about.
Don't get me wrong, we've had our problems, but for the most part it's
been wonderful
The only rough stretch came during the first six months after Sarah's
birth. I couldn't seem to rekindle any interest in sex and Jim
suffered through it without a murmur. I worked hard and got back into
shape and did my best, but sex just didn't appeal to me. It wasn't
that I was scared of getting pregnant again (Sarah's birth was very
difficult), but..... I was just reluctant.
Sarah was just six months old when we went for a walk in the park. We
live in a nice suburb that borders a big park with a world famous rose
garden that's over 100 years old. I love to put Sarah in her carriage
when the weather is good and walk through the park with her. I know
she'll love the flowers when she's older. This particular day was a
very hot day in July, a week or so after the 4th. The sun was
shining, the sky was cloudless, and it was very humid.
When we left the house I was wearing a rather baggy, loose fitting
sleeveless cotton top, a short denim skirt, and sandals. I was back
in shape and proud of it. I'm not beautiful, but I am fairly
attractive. I'm 5'8" tall, usually weigh around 125 pounds, and I
have a nice figure (34c-25-35). My legs are my best feature - they're
long and sleek and nicely curved and my thighs are smooth and firm.
I'm proud of them and like to show them off. As for the rest, I have
brown hair, worn very short now, brown eyes, and a smooth olive-tan
complexion.
We crossed the street into the park and went up the path to the rose
garden. Sarah was content to suck on her pacifier and wave her little
hands around. I walked slowly to give me time to admire the flowers
and to avoid getting sweaty. It was hot and I knew I couldn't keep
Sarah out too long - but there were shady spots where I could park the
carriage and take a break out of the sun.
After a few minutes I turned away from the rose garden and crossed the
grass to the new rock garden that had been put in over the past two
seasons. It was shady there and much cooler. I was crouching to
examine a plant I'd never seen before when I heard the click and whir
of a motorized camera. I glanced up and saw a very attractive young
woman taking pictures a few feet down the path. She glanced over and
smiled and I smiled back.
She had a Nikon camera, with a macro zoom lens, set on a sturdy
professional tripod. My husband and I dabble in photography (he'd
hate it if he knew I said dabble - he's serious about it) so I knew
that I was looking at a professional setup. The woman looked to be no
more than 18 or 19 but I knew she had to be older. She was a redhead
and I was surprised at how tanned she was. Her thick red hair was
pulled back into a French braid that hung almost to her waist. She
was wearing denim shorts, a tank top, and was barefoot. Her arms and
legs were smoothly muscled and I guessed she worked out regularly.
She took a couple of more shots and then straightened up and walked
over and bent over the carriage. She smiled at Sarah and glanced up
to ask me how old she was. I saw that her eyes were a deep green, a
shade I'd never seen before. "Six months, her name is Sarah." My
voice sounded strange to me and I wondered if I was catching a summer
cold.
The redhead grinned and said, "My name is Sara - without an 'h'. Your
Sarah is very pretty."
"So are you!" As soon as the words were out of my mouth I found
myself wondering why I'd said that. It was true of course, but
still....
She blushed and said, "Thank you, you're very kind."
Desperate to change the subject, I asked about the pictures she was
taking. She told me that she was a professional photographer and was
working on a book about public gardens in the United States. We
chatted for a while and I found myself fascinated by her descriptions
of the gardens she'd visited and photographed and the characters she'd
met while doing so.
She had a wedding ring on and I asked how her husband dealt with all
her traveling. She blushed again and admitted that she wasn't
married, she just wore the ring as a way to discourage unwanted
attention. We talked for a few more minutes and then she asked me if
I'd mind posing for her. I hesitated and then let her talk me into
it. I wanted to pose, but didn't want to seem too eager.
She moved her tripod and replaced the macro zoom with a 105mm
telephoto. I posed in front of the rock garden, moving and changing
position as she directed. I found that I enjoyed posing very much.
She kept up a steady stream of encouragement, directions, flattery,
and just plain chatter.
She stopped at one point to change film and I changed Sarah's diaper
while she was busy. Then she posed me crouching in front of an
ornamental grass plant, a big purple specimen that I wished I had in
my garden. I was facing the camera at a 45 degree angle and she
directed me to pull my skirt back a little to show more of my 'long
beautiful legs' as she put it. I tugged it up a little and then a
little more. She moved a little and asked me to open my knees
slightly - I knew she was going to get a revealing shot of my inner
thighs, but I didn't mind.
She finished the roll very quickly and I learned a little about what
it was like to model for a professional photographer - it was mostly a
matter of taking directions, something I've always done well. She had
me take my sandals off for the third or fourth shot, then kneel with
my skirt up high to show my thighs. A later pose had me roll my top
up from the waist to show my bare midriff. I quite enjoyed posing and
was disappointed when the second roll of film was finished.
Sara told me she'd develop and print the pictures overnight and would
have them ready the next day. She offered to meet me in the park and
give me a set of prints. I hesitated for a moment and then suggested
that she bring them to the house in the morning. "My mother is taking
Sarah for the day so I can work in the yard. You're welcome to come
over for breakfast and I'll show you my garden." I held my breath
while I waited for her to answer. I didn't know why, but it was
suddenly very important that she accept my invitation.
It was her turn to hesitate. Then she smiled and said, "I was
planning to check out of my motel and leave in the morning after
dropping off the prints, but I guess I could stay over and spend the
day visiting. Maybe I can get some pictures of your garden for my
book. She gave me the address of the motel and the phone number so I
could call if anything came up. Then we walked to the parking lot and
she packed her stuff in her van and followed me home, irking a few
drivers who didn't like her slow pace.
She pulled into the driveway and we chatted for a few minutes. She
wrote down the address and I gave her the number of my cell phone.
Then it was time for me to take Sarah in for lunch and time for Sara
to go. She held her hand out and we shook. Then, holding my hand
tightly, she pulled me forward until I was pressed against the door of
the van. We stared at each other for a moment and then she kissed me
on the mouth. It was strange kissing another woman - strange and
different, softer, more intimate, more erotic than kissing a man. I
was stunned. I leaned againt the door and let her tongue probe deep
into my mouth.
The kiss ended, finally, and I stepped back, dazed. I stared at her
for a moment and she smiled and whispered, "Bye. Call me if you
change your mind about tomorrow." Then she put the van in gear and
backed out of the driveway. I stood there and watched her drive down
the street and turn the corner. Then I took Sarah inside and fixed
lunch for both of us. The rest of the day passed in a kind of a blur.
I couldn't forget the kiss. Nor could I forget how much I had enjoyed
modelling for Sara. And I couldn't forget her strange green eyes.
That night seemed to last forever. My husband got home late and was
preoccupied with some problems one of his clients was having. I went
to bed at 10 p.m. and had trouble falling asleep. Then I woke up at
2:00 a.m. and had trouble getting back to sleep. I went downstairs
and walked in the yard, wearing only the man's undershirt that I use
for a nightshirt. It's an XL and fits me like a short dress - to
mid-thigh. The armholes are huge and revealing and it's been washed
so many times that it fits me like a glove and the material is very
thin. It's my favorite thing to wear to bed, but that night it felt
stifling even though the temperature at 2:00 a.m. was only 70 degrees.
I turned the hose on and let a stream of cold water wash over me. My
nipples hardened and then I was shivering. I went inside and dried
off and went back to bed nude.
I was up at 6:00 and took Sarah over to my mother's house at 7:00. I
was home and showered by 8:00. Then I tried to decide what to wear. I
finally decided on plain work-in-the-garden casual - an old pair of
faded denim cutoffs, a sleeveless denim shirt - old, faded, and soft,
plain cotton underwear (Hanes), white cotton socks and workboots. I
took a long look in the mirror and decided that the cutoffs weren't
short enough. I took them off and cut another 2" off each leg and
then made a little slit in each side next to the seam. Much better,
much sexier.
Sara arrived at 9:00, wearing linen shorts and a sleeveless top
cropped just below her bust. She looked very sexy. I poured her a
cup of coffee while she spread the prints out on the dining room
table. I was stunned when I saw them. They were black and white,
developed and printed in a portable darkroom in the bathroom of her
motel room, but they were great! I looked.... professional, sexy,
beautiful, mysterious. I looked at each one several times. It wasn't
vanity - I was just stunned at how good she made me look.
I asked her how she'd done it and she grinned, "Magic, it's magic! But
seriously, there are just some people that the camera loves -
photogenic some call it, but I call it love, and you happen to be one
of them. People like you always look great in pictures. You should
see some of the top models in person - you wouldn't give them a second
glance. But the camera loves them and they look great on film. If
you were a few years younger....."
Her voice trailed off and I shrugged. "That's okay. I'm 31 and I'm
happy with my life."
Sara nodded. "I can see that. You ooze contentment, but I sense a
slight discord. And yesterday you did seem to respond...."
I shook my head. "Not now, please. Let's go look at my gardens." I
turned and started toward the kitchen and the back door. Sara grabbed
her cameras and followed. I stepped out onto the deck and held the
door for her, enjoying her gasp of surprise as she got her first
glimpse of our backyard. Most people react like that.
Our house is set on a lot that measures 400' wide by 800' deep.
Originally part of a 15 acre parcel owned by the city, and intended to
be part of the park, it had been cut off from the park when the
adjoining town, in which the land lay, insisted on putting a road
through. The road I live on. So the 15 acres was never developed and
the land our house was on was sold to a prominent politican who built
the house in the early 1930s. We bought it three years ago. The rest
of the parcel is used by the park for various purposes. There is a
small greenhouse, a maintainence shed, and quite a number of
experimental plots. A lot of it is quite overgrown. Our land is
completely surrounded by an 8' stockade fence that the city put in and
maintains. So our yard is very private.
And very beautiful. We have a two-level deck on the back of the house
with exits onto the upper level from the back bedrooms. Stairs lead
down to the lowerlevel which has an exits onto it from the kitchen and
diningroom. Then another set of stairs lead down to the ground level
where there is a bluestone patio surrounding an inground pool and spa.
To the left is a three-car garage with a small apartment on the second
floor. The pool is surrounded by a 4' wrought iron fence. Beyond the
pool is a big stretch of lawn.
The land slopes upward starting about 120' behind the house. This is
where I've put my gardens. Over the past two years I've created a
series of terraces for my rock garden. In the far back corner, on the
right, there is a huge boulder that was left when the house was built.
It's about 9' in diameter and must weight 7 or 8 tons. It's just
inside the fence and is the focal point of my garden. I've got 4
levels of terraces that I've dug by hand. I've had some smaller
boulders brought in - 2'-4' in diameter and weighing 500-1,000 pounds.
I've got them scattered around the various levels and now I'm filling
in with smaller rocks and crushed stone. I've started planting on the
upper two levels and I'm currently working on putting in a form for a
water garden on the lowest level. I've had water and electricity run
out there and I'm working on the hole.
Sara glanced at me with a delighted smile on her face and then skipped
down the stairs and ran across the lawn to the garden. I followed at
a slower pace, enjoying her enthusiasm. She headed back to the garden
and began snapping pictures. As I approached, she turned and snapped
a few of me. "Oh, Hannah!" She exclaimed, "I love it! I want to
document the rest of your work!"
I smiled and told her that she was welcome anytime. I watched her as
she shot a full roll of film. "Just preliminary shots, I want to have
them so I can plan. Can I shoot you as you work?"
"Of course, I'd love it. My mom takes Sarah two days a week and Jim
is here on weekends to watch her."
She turned and looked back at the house and noticed the balcony on the
back of the garage - and the skylights. "What's up there?"
I explained how the original owner's wife (the politican) had
artisitic ambtions and he'd build an apartment onto the second level
of the garage for her to use as a studio. "We had plans to renovate
when we first bought the house. We thought we'd rent it out and the
income would be a nice cushion."
Sara nodded. "What happened?"
"Well, we were caught in a kind of Catch-22 situation. We needed the
income but didn't have the money for the renovations. Then my
grandmother died and left me some money. Quite a lot of money
actually, and we didn't need the income anymore so we never renovated
the apartment."
Sara grinned. "Can I look at it?"
"Of course. But I have to warn you. It's pretty grim."
She grabbed my hand and tugged. "Come on, please! I want to see it."
I let her lead me back up the yard to the house. She went out to her
van to get her equipment bag and I went inside to get the keys to the
apartment. When I came back out she was just setting her bag down on
the deck. She was very excited as we climbed the stairs to the door.
I expected her to be disappointed when I finally got the door opened
and ushered her inside, but she was delighted. The place was a real
mess, but she saw the possibilities - like I'd seen them for a garden
in what had been an overgrown yard.
The garage apartment is basically two big rooms. A combination
kitchen/living room and a bedroom/studio. There is a bathroom and a
small room for storage. The total area is about 25' x 35' as the
garage is really a 3 car garage with a storage area. Sara walked
around and nodded occasionally, whispering to herself. Once she
lifted her hand to point at something on the ceiling, a water spot,
and her top lifted, baring her small, pert breasts. It was
..enchanting.
She caught me looking and grinned. "Do you like them?"
I felt myself blushing and stammered, "YYYYes, they're pretty." What a
stupid comment I thought to myself immediately afterward. Then I
stamped my foot in mock anger and said, "Don't do that - don't make me
blush like that. I hate it."
She grinned and said, "Then you don't want me to take my top off?"
I blushed again and turned away.
She laughed. "I heard you. What was that you muttered under your
breath."
I glanced over my should, my face still flaming. "Bitch. That's what I
said." And I said, "Yes."
She smiled, a sweet gentle smile that lit up her face like a thousand
watt bulb. "Really?"
I nodded. "Yes, really." And wondered what the hell I was doing.
She slipped her top off and tucked it into the waistband of her
shorts. I tried not to stare at her but her bare breasts were so
pretty. They're small, maybe a b-cup, perfectly conical in shape, and
tipped with hard little pink nipples. Which instantly came erect.
She looked at me looking at her and grinned again. "Now you."
I nodded and slowly unbuttoned my shirt. I slipped it off and looked
for a place to put it, but there wasn't a spot that was free of dust.
I turned and opened the door and draped my shirt over the railing.
Then I turned back and looked straight at Sara as I reached back to
unhook my bra. When I eased it off my breasts bounced gently and Sara
took a deep breath. "God," she whispered, "You have beautiful tits.
I wish mine were bigger." I tossed my bra on top of my shirt and
stepped back into the room. It felt deliciously wicked to be topless
in the presence of another woman, an almost total stranger.
We walked around the apartment and Sara pointed out things that could
be done. Then she said she wanted to talk seriously about leasing the
place. We went back to the house and I poured coffee for us and we
went out onto the deck. Sara made her pitch. She said she'd do the
renovations herself, except for the plumbing, if I'd pay for the
material and then lease her the place for a year with an option for a
second year at an increase of no more than 10%. I was
hesitant, but she convinced me that she could do the work. She grew
up with five older brothers, the only daughter, and her father was a
carpenter. One of her brothers is an electrican. She told me she
could do the carpentry and the electrical work - we'd just need to
have it inspected. And we'd have to find a plumber. Preferably a
woman plumber.
We talked money and she agreed to do a detailed estimate of material
costs. We argued about the amount of the lease and came to an
agreement. She dragged her equipment bag over to the table and pulled
out a pad and pencil. Something else fell out, something that looked
like a rubber ball, but had black nylon straps attached to it. She
picked it up quickly and went to stuff it back into the bag. I asked
her what it was. This time it was her turn to blush and I giggled as
a wave of red moved down over her chest. She said something too low
for me to catch and I asked her to repeat it.
"Bitch. I said bitch." Then she grinned. "It's a ball gag." I must
have look puzzled because she shook her head and continued, "It's a
gag. I'm into mild b&d. Does that shock you?"
"A little," I admitted. "But I'm also curious."
She pulled the ball gag out of the bag again and set it on the table.
Then she pulled out some additional items, naming each as she set it
down.
"Wrist cuffs." Leather straps like little belts with rings and a
place for a small padlock.
"Ankle cuffs." Pretty much the same except slight larger.
"Nipple Clips." Small metal clips with padded jaws and strong
springs. I shivered when I saw them.
"Chains." A set of short chains with very fine links and spring clips
on each end.
"Dildo." A realistic penis made of rubber - about 8" long and thick.
"Butt Plug." A black plastic device that had a flared base.
"Another Dildo." This one attached to a pair of black nylon panties.
"Vibrator." A big one with a black switch on the base.
"Penis Gag." Another realistic penis about 5" long and thick, with
straps.
"Anal Vibrator." Thinner and not as long as the other one.
"More clips." Small metal clips some with padded jaws and some with
sawtooth jaws.
When she was done she sat back and looked at me. "Well, are you too
shocked? Should I pack up and leave?"
I glanced from her to her collection and then back again. "No." My
voice was a whisper. "Please don't leave."
She stared at me in silence for a moment and then nodded. She picked
up the wrist cuffs and asked if I wanted to try them on. I hesitated
and then nodded. "Yes, I would." My voice still a whisper.
She got up and came around the table. I held out my hands while she
attached the cuffs. The she had me stand up and bring my wrists
around behind my back. When I did, she used a spring clip to fasten
the cuffs together. I was helpless. And shocked at how excited I
was.
Sara watched me try to free myself and smiled when I gave up.
"Scared?"
I admitted that I was. She asked if I wanted her to take them off. I
hesitated and then whispered, "Not if you don't want to."
She grinned. Then she picked up a pair of nipple clamps and ran her
fingers over my nipples until they were erect and hard. I closed my
eyes and moaned as she fastened the clamps to my nipples. The pain
was intense, but bearable. And made me very wet.
She watched me for a minute and then informed me that she was going to
strip me. I shook my head. "No, please don't."
"Do you want me to gag you?" She waited for me to answer.
"No."
"Then be a good girl." She unsnapped my shorts and eased them down
over my hips. Then she knelt to work them off over my workboots. She
folded them neatly and placed them over the back of my chair. Still
kneeling, she reached up and pulled my panties down. I lifted each
foot in turn and she worked them off over my boots. Then she glanced
up and asked if I wanted my workboots on or off. I thought about it
for a moment. "Off. I want to be entirely nude."
She untied my boots and took them off. But she insisted on leaving my
socks on. "Looks sexier," she explained. Then she reached up and ran
the back of her hand over my thick pubic bush. "This will have to
go." I nodded.
She stood up and looked me over carefully, motioning me to turn.
"Slowly, I want to study your body." I turned slowly, my eyes closed.
I had never been so excited. The pain in my nipples was delicious.
After a minute or two, she told me I could stop. "You have an
incredibly beautiful body. I want to photograph you extensively. I
want you to work nude in the garden. Will you?"
I opened my eyes and found I was facing away from her. I turned and
told her that I'd think about it. She stepped close and removed the
nipple clips. I sighed as the pain vanished. Then she unsnapped the
spring clip and freed my wrists. I stood there, hands at my sides, and
waited.
She sat down and looked up at me. "Decision time." She reached up
suddenly and slipped a hand between my legs. Her fingers came away
wet. She licked them delicately, like a cat licks its paw. "You're
very wet and very tasty." She looked up at me and smiled. "Where do
we go from here?"
I shook my head. "I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I just
don't know."
"Do you want me to leave?" She waited patiently while I thought it
over.
"No, I don't."
"You were, are, obviously turned on. Why?"
"You. You turn me on. And so do these things." I gestured at the
bondage toys spread across the table. "And so does the pain," I
whispered. "The delicious pain."
She kicked her sandals off and stretched her bare feet out in front of
her. "You have to make a decision. Right now. We can go ahead or we
can stop and remain just friends. If you want to go ahead then your
place is on your knees for I mean to have you as my slave. My nude
personal slave. I want you on your belly, licking my feet and
acknowledging your slavery."
I took a deep breath and looked out across the yard. Then I looked
back at Sara. Small, slim, beautiful Sara with her pretty legs and
pert little tits. And her wide, smiling mouth. I dropped to my knees
and then down onto my belly. I kissed each of her small, pretty feet
and then licked them in submission. She sighed with pleasure. Then
she leaned over and fastened the cuffs together behind my back. I was
a slave.
