1Mistress Morphea

by ariel emms

                                                                                       

Ariel brought her hand to her neck, fingers touching her collar.  She breathed a sigh of satisfaction, running her fingers in their familiar path along its edge, then counting each hanging gem like a set of worry beads in reverse, satisfaction beads, she always thought. “Mmmm” she thought, as her fingertips brushed down, running along her collarbone, little jolts running through her as she felt the light pressure, her fingers, Mistress’ fingers, stroking her gently.

She felt a tickling sensation, a tingle, some ghostly touch, and her hand dropped slowly, palm spread across her ribs, smoothing the velvet of her blouse, so soft to the touch.  She smiled to herself, a sly smile, what she thought of (quite wrongly and naively) as a wicked smile, as a thought entered her head.  Shutting her eyes, she let her hand drift, slide, slip upward, cupping the underside of her breast, stroking, teasing, knowing what she really wanted to do, consciously denying herself the pleasure as she felt her nipples grow even stiffer in anticipation.

“They are probably quite obvious, this silk top is so thin”, she thought to herself, a combination of embarrassment and delight in her mind, both thrilling her.  She opened her eyes to look around the train compartment, surprised to find a couple sitting across from her.  “Oh!” she thought “I don’t remember them being here!”  She found herself frozen for a moment, knowing she should move her hand, but fearing to call more attention to its location and obvious purpose if she did so.  She saw their eyes, the man’s fixed on her chest, the woman - smiling - looking from her partner’s eyes to Ariel and back again.

“I...I...I will get my bag, that’s it” she thought to herself “get my bag and put on a - oh god!” she thought, as she looked down, and truly realised how stiff her nipples had become, how little imagination her train companions needed to see her excitement.  She stood, reaching over her head into the luggage rack. 

“What on earth is this doing here?” she thought to herself, as she felt thick rough strands rub across her wrists, and she encountered what appeared to be a length of rope resting on her bag.  She ran her fingers through the coils, trying to understand where it could have come from - she had not brought it with her, how had it come to be on her bag?  In fact, where was her bag?  She felt the rope flow through her fingers, over her hands, around her wrists, until with a tiny sense of growing unease she began to pull her hands away.

Ariel gasped as she found herself unable to draw her arms back down.  The rope, somehow, it made no sense, she was tangled in it, her hands would not come free!  She tried to suppress her feelings of panic as she worked to free her arms, now stretched tight over her head, but to no avail.  She wondered whether she should call out to that crowd of onlookers across the room - one or two had noticed her plight, perhaps they would help - in fact even more were looking now, though no-one was moving to her.

A feathery, fluttering, tickling sensation in her rib cage caused her to look down.  She blushed, and looked quickly back across the room to the crowd of men, to see whether they had noticed - noticed how, as her arms were pulled more and more taut, one of her nipples was beginning to slip out of the fabric that had concealed it.  She blushed as she saw the smiles that greeted her, and then she glanced down again as she felt another fluttering.  “Oh god!” she thought “I was sure I had tucked this towel tightly” but nonetheless she could feel it slipping, feel the folds pulling apart.  She tried to pull her arms down, but stopped when she realised her struggles were only jogging the towel loose, making the situation worse.  She blushed as she felt it slip completely below one breast, happily falling no further.  She realised, suppressing a thrilled shudder, that she had been saved by her own excitement, the stiffness of her nipple providing just enough purchase to prevent the towel falling to expose her even further.  Her eyes shut as she drew a deep breath, trying to compose herself. 

She opened them with surprise as she felt a tapping on her chest.  She saw the crowd, larger than before, rows of them on the benches - and right next to her, some woman, looking very official with her hair pulled back and her red-lacquered nails, tapping at her with a pointer!  The woman was saying something - not to her, she was hardly paying attention to her at all - and Ariel struggled to understand it.  Was it...was it..it was English, Ariel was sure it was, but the words made no sense to her.  So focused was she on trying to understand she was taken quite by surprise when with a flip of the tip of her pointer the woman poked Ariel’s towel off, and it fell to the ground, leaving her suddenly and completely naked!  She quickly bent forward, nearly doubled over, one hand dropping between her legs to cover herself and the other crossing her chest, as she turned even redder with embarrassment.

“AHH!” Ariel suddenly cried out, as her bottom stung with pain from a sudden stroke of the woman’s pointer.  She felt a welt rising where the leather strap at the end had stuck her - it was a riding crop, she recognized now. 

“Straighten up girl, this isn’t about you” she heard a voice say as the woman walked behind her.  Ariel flushed and stood a bit straighter, wincing in anticipation of another blow, but risking not moving her hands - she had only been told to stand, she said to herself, the woman had said nothing else.  She shut her eyes again, her body trembling but straight.

She forced herself not to move as she felt the woman’s gloved hand close over her own, over her hand between her legs, covering herself.  “It is normally done like this” she heard the woman say, and she dared not open her eyes, because she could feel people close, hear their slow breathing, the slight rustling noises of people standing still.  Disturbing as ignorance was, knowledge would be more disturbing still.  And it was easy to be distracted, she could feel the woman’s fingers mingling with her own, strumming, thrumming, rolling, could feel those fingers controlling her own, though only her own touched...touched her...there. 

Ariel’s body jerked - or would have, she did her best to control it, but still she felt her body bouncing, shaking, tiny convulsive movements nearly suppressed - as hands began to roam over her body, here, then here, then there.  They were not invasive, they were not insistent - they were not unpleasant, Ariel forced herself to acknowledge.  And the woman’s fingers, tangled in her own, her own tangled in herself, a certain undeniable slickness beginning to figure in the fingers, a smacking stickiness, a sticky smacking of sound and scent that added to the excitement she could feel growing from the nearly overwhelming sensations of touch. 

She nestled back further between the woman’s legs, cuddled into their seated embrace, felt the woman’s breast pressing into her back, and gave herself up to the sensations.  She felt her fingers rubbing herself, felt her hand on her breast, felt hands everywhere, stroking, touching, exciting, head thrown back, pinching her nipples, her nipples pinched as her hands stroked herself, back arched, tensing, kneading, feeling, rubbing, building, gasping, needing, building, building.....

“Little One” she heard a voice say.  She felt a gentle stroking across her brow, and opened her eyes to find herself, head on Lady Alt’s lap, looking up at her Mistress.  “Little One, I thought I had better wake you, you seemed...distressed.”

Ariel rubbed her eyes and tried to sort out the confusion in her mind.  “Oh!  Mistress!”  Ariel looked around the room, seeing that her Mistress was entertaining, that guests had arrived while she was asleep.  “I- I’m sorry, I, I didn’t mean to, to disturb anyone, I, I suppose, I must have fallen - I was dreaming.”

“Were you indeed”, said Lady Alt, the small smile on her lips belied by the great grin visible in her eyes.  She leaned over and with her gloved hand placed a small stick next to a feather and short length of string on a table next to her.  With merriment in her voice she said “Why don’t you tell us all about it?”