Zippers

PART 11

 

 

That night we brushed our teeth, turned the light out and got into the bed together. There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute and then she rolled to face me and held me.

 

'I've never been with a girl before', she said to me.

 

'Me neither', I said.

 

'If I was going to be, I would want it to be someone like you Anita. You're a beautiful person, really you are, you know that?’ she stroked my face.

 

'Aww!..........Thank you!’ I had said, genuinely touched.

 

'Now, they will know if we fake this, so we have to do it properly'

 

I nodded.

 

'Just try to relax and enjoy it, that's the best way for both of us'

 

With that she backed off under the covers.

 

I couldn't believe the situation I was in. Here I was, in my own bed, with another woman about to kiss me in my most intimate, sensitive area.

 

I felt her hair sweeping down my breasts and then my belly until I could feel it brush over my pelvis and thighs. It was soft but electrifying as it brushed, leaving a trail of charged, static pleasure, sensitising my skin. Oh God, I was enjoying it! I felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment as I realised that another woman was exciting me. I swallowed. I wanted to tell her to stop but my rational self told me that it would be a futile exercise; that we would just have to begin again and repeat it anyway.

 

‘Yes, best to get it over with’ I thought, as Lisa had said. I felt her body fall between my legs. Oh God! With a resigned reluctance, I opened them, spreading myself timidly before her.

 

I felt her hands take my hips and hold me. I felt her moving closer, I could feel her breath between my thighs and her warmth on my lips below. God it felt good. I couldn't believe how good it felt or that I was letting myself feel this way about it. It was supposed to be a perfunctory exercise, a mechanical exchange that would let us tick our box and move on to another day. But I was enjoying the touch, the feel of another woman on me, it was all wrong. I started to cry. I bit my lip; she mustn't know I was crying. We must get it over with, with as little fuss as possible.

 

Was I a Lesbian for feeling aroused? Oh God no! I thought to myself, I was normal; a normal woman. I was attracted to men.

 

I felt something soft and warm, gently running up my lip on the right.

 

'Oh!’ I moaned.

 

The tongue moved down again leaving a trail of swelling warmth behind. Reflexively, I tried to lift my hips slightly, but they were controlled by her hands and held down. I wanted her back on me. I wanted more of the touch. I could feel my clit hardening, like she also wanted to lift herself up, in need, to her lover.

 

Then, I felt a deep warmth as her whole mouth cupped me. She closed her lips, sweeping together across my engorged folds and then, with a kiss, upwards to surround my throbbing clit. I shook involuntarily with the exquisite touch but was again, held fast. She nuzzled my hood upwards to further bare the tender flesh beneath, ready for her tongue.

 

'Oh, my God1', I moaned as the tears dried on my hot, flushing cheeks and I felt the firm snaking of the tip of her tongue around my tensely swollen bud. I was so totally, so disturbingly aroused, completely at her mercy as she ran slow, tiny pleasure circles around me. I was burning with guilt at my apparent homosexuality as the overwhelming sensations coursed through me. It felt so good and I knew it was a bad idea to stop. I took my mind wandering, to imagine that I had a gorgeous, strong man between my thighs. A man so overtaken with how beautiful he found me, so enamoured with me, that he longed to give me the most extreme pleasures imaginable. He would make me feel such a devastating feminine beauty in the depths of my being; he would make me understand how beautiful I was.

 

'Oh!' I moaned in tension as the lapping on my clitoris drove me into a rampant frenzy, 'Oh!.....Oh!'

 

I felt her reach deeply inside me. With the speed of her entry and the ease of its accommodation, I realised that I must have been sopping wet with lust. The image of the soft, mocha skinned beauty between my legs flashed into my mind as I closed my eyes in denial at what I had become. Then she was back on my clit with fast flicks, I couldn't stand it. I caught my breath as she gripped me and forced me to stay still, receptive to the unbearable pleasure she was giving me. I submitted to it. Then I wanted it. As I felt a tide of orgasm building I started to gasp uncontrollably and moan in complete abandon. Then, without a choice, I came. I almost screamed with the most intense, earth-shattering orgasm I have ever had. My whole body coursed with the rolling waves of climax until I was so sensitive I couldn't be touched and had to jerk myself away.

 

'Oh, my God!’ I breathed, catching my breath.

 

Lisa ducked out from the bottom of the bed and hurried to the bathroom. I heard her spitting and running the taps. My pleasure soon left me as I was brought back to the reality of the situation. This was not love. It was rape; I had raped her mouth as she had been forced to pleasure me like a sex slave. A colossal guilt swept up inside me as I bent out of the bed to try and see her, to make sure she was okay. I heard her washing her mouth out and then brushing her teeth.

 

It was about five minutes before she came back and crawled into bed beside me. She avoided my eyes. I was so upset that I burst into tears, saying I was sorry over and over. She held me but didn't say anything. I could tell that she was more than a little overwhelmed herself. I hated that I had caused her to feel that way. It was as if my pleasure had become her misery, as if I had stolen her good feelings.

 

I cried myself quietly to sleep that night as she faced away from me. Later that night though, when I turned over in my sleep, I thought I heard her sobbing

 

 

 

 

The following day we had risen early and had taken a quick breakfast. Lisa apologized to me for the night before, saying that it had been very difficult for her to come to terms with being with another woman, especially being forced to, against her will. She stressed that it had nothing to do with me and that I should not feel bad about it in any way. She said that she hated the total control that she was held under and that with every abuse that was forced upon her, she felt that a little of her soul was being forever wrenched away. I had kissed her and stroked her as she lay in my lap. After a few minutes, she had hugged me, composed herself, and then pulled me over to the sofa to start the electrolysis.

 

We had decided to get the gags out of the way and wore them straight away. They were just as unpleasant as the day before but we got on with our task together. On a couple of occasions I had to fight to keep my breakfast down. By the end of the morning the gags were off and we were making good progress; there was not a leg hair left on either of us.

 

We were contemplating the next stage, the humiliating removal of our pubic hair. I had said that I thought it would make me feel child-like, pre-pubertal but also more exposed; that I would have nothing to hide behind. Lisa pointed out that it was practically mandatory in the sex industry to have a shaved sex and that it was an incredibly slutty gesture. She said that she wouldn't like anyone to see her bare like that, that she would feel terribly ashamed. That didn't help me with the task at hand and I had wished that she had kept that to herself as it added another dimension to my humiliation.

 

It was then that the doorbell rang. We looked at each other quizzically and I grabbed up my robe, donned my slippers, and went to answer the door. As I pulled it open, I was confronted by the towering figure of Dr Vivienne Black. She was dressed in a long black coat and a black, wide-brimmed hat. The corners of her deep, dark crimson lips curled upwards into a snarling smile before she opened he mouth.

 

'Pick those up, girl, come back inside and get that robe off'

 

She brushed me aside, striding into the living room. There were two large bags waiting for me on the doorstep. I grabbed them; the right hand one being weighty, the other one light; and hurried back inside. By the time I was in my living room, Vivienne had removed her coat and hat and had sat down. She was wearing a light grey skirt-suit of fine wool. Her hair, as usual, was pulled into a high ponytail. I could see, now that her hat was removed that it was bound tightly with a piece of thin, knotted black leather; gone were the soft, feminine flowers she often wore there. Lisa was kneeling at her feet with her head pressed down to the floor. I hurriedly pulled my dressing gown off and threw myself on the floor, my head down against the carpet. 

 

'I have two boots. One for each slave girl', she kept her legs crossed; 'lick them clean. Now!'

 

We both swallowed, I took the foot dangling above the ground and immediately started licking at it. She was wearing a pair of knee length, lace-up, black leather boots with high stiletto heels and long toes. The boot before me was not dirty save for a few specks of dried dirt towards the lower edge. I licked at them with as much enthusiasm as I could muster; I wanted them to be spotless for her. The bitter taste of polish and the smell of the leather were not that bad. I would much rather have devoted myself to that task than risk one of her terrible punishments. Vivienne curved the pointed toe of her hanging boot outwards, so that I could lick the other side. To my right I could see Lisa applying herself with the same ardour, bending herself around to the back of the foot, licking at the beige leather underside of the arch of the boot.

 

Vivienne laughed.

 

'That's it. You little bitches are not good for anything else yet so you’d better make sure you give them a damn good clean now; lest I decide that you are completely worthless and decide to dispose of you both in some unpleasant way'

 

She lifted the foot that I was licking. I immediately started lapping at the mud on the spike heel. I swept my tongue up its entire length to catch the tiny splashes of dried puddle water that peppered the jet black, matt veneer on the horizontally grained, wooden heel. At the very top of the stiletto, after it curved upwards and backwards to smoothly join the leather; I attended to the back of her heel. I worked my tongue into the line of tiny stitching that formed a tight seem behind, hugging the back of her foot, working loose the little mud that had collected there.

 

'Good girls!’ she cooed, 'from now on, whenever I enter your room; that is how you will greet me. Understand?'

 

'Yes Mistress' we said in unison.

 

‘Your Mistress likes her boots to be shiny and clean. If I ever pick up any dirt on them, I expect you to beg to be allowed to clean it off. If you ever allow me to walk in dirty boots I will have the soles of your feet beaten, severely. Do you understand that sluts?’

 

‘Yes, Mistress’ we both repeated.

 

She bent over to eye her boots and inspect our work. We both pressed our faces into the carpet in submission.

 

'I see you have both learned a little more of your true place. Now, both of you, stand up. Let me see you. Attention!'

 

We both jumped to our feet, the toes of them anyway, and stood before her, eyes straight ahead. She stood, taller than either of us in spite of our tiptoed stance. She regarded me with a feline smile.

 

'You're nose and lips; the swelling has gone down now. That is how they will be. Have you seen them today?’ she asked me

 

'No Mistress. I have not looked at myself today'

 

She reached into her handbag on the table and took out a vanity mirror. She handed it to me.

 

'Look at yourself'

 

I looked into the mirror. My nose was still a yellowy-brown as the bruising was fading but the shape was no longer masked by the inflammation. The bony lump at the top of my nose was no longer there. Instead I had a smooth, cute, slightly upturned, petite and pretty nose. Its only downside was that it looked like every other generic 'perfect plastic surgical' nose. My lips were still full and bulbous, I gasped as to my mind they were still too swollen.

 

'Yes, Anita, you almost have a lovely face now’, she stroked my cheek softly, ‘yes, very pleasing, both to me, your Mistress, and, you will find, to men too. Pleasing because of its aesthetics, you look sexier now dear'

 

I jumped a little as she stroked my breasts,

 

'But also pleasing because your surgery was designed to be less subtle than is currently possible. I want your face to look like it has been operated on. I want people to see vanity when they look at you; the sad vanity of the wannabe slut; the willingness to please and the willingness to conform to a man's needs. A girl who will put herself under the knife shows her devotion and commitment to being a real slut'

 

She laughed

 

'And then there are your huge bulbous lips. They just scream 'slut', don't they?'

 

'Yes Mistress', I looked down briefly and then corrected myself. I could feel my eyes start to dampen.

 

'They'll look even better, enhanced with an eye catching gloss I think. Lovely tits as well, Anita, by the way. You look like a sycophantic little bimbo don't you, so eager to be a man’s wet dream?'

 

She looked me in the eye with a gleeful glint.

 

'Yes Mistress'

 

'Tell me, Anita, are you looking forward to showing those tits off?'

 

'Yes, Mistress', I said. I wanted to be fully cooperative with her the tears in my eyes doubtless betrayed my true feelings. She snorted.

 

'Your tits are still healing. However', she leaned very close to my ear and cupped my breast 'when they are ready we will inject the implants with more liquid. We'll do it gradually, slowly, so the skin has time to grow. Then, when you have lovely big whore’s tits, we'll have a nice, big, permanent implant fitted. That's right, your tits have still got quite a way to go, and already they are big enough to turn heads. How do you like that?'

 

I was starting to break down. I broke my position and turned to look at her.

 

I dropped to my knees and put my hands together in a praying gesture.

 

'Please Mistress! Please don't do that to me! My tits are big already, lovely and big, I already look like a whore. Please let them stay as they are'

 

I bent down and kissed her feet again, throwing myself into it in the hope that it might save me.

 

'Awwww! Poor slave', she stroked my head. I felt slightly comforted, maybe she would be merciful. Maybe my Mistress would take pity on me?

 

'Stand again'

 

I returned to attention. She held her finger over her lips in mock contemplation. She quickly nodded her head, having thought about it.

 

'But you'd look so right as a big-titted slut, Anita. I'm afraid I must insist, so we'll say no more on the matter’ she gave me a sickly sweet smile ‘Now, Mistress Trisha tells me that you have a lovely little anus as well now and I can see that you are both longing to wear high heels too. You will thank your Mistress later when you appreciate that you will have a lot more control in high heels now. The unfortunate side effect, as you have already discovered, is that you will be quite unable to stand with your feet flat, ever again! So its slutty stilettos from now on for both of you I’m afraid'

 

She cast her glance over Lisa, next to me and then told us both to kneel again.

 

'Now then my little novices, I have some presents for you both'