Alessandra's Awakening: Part I by Alessandra Tamino
This story is part fiction/real (I'm not telling which) and concerns an experience that changed my sexual life. Not for minors or adult prudes. Please send feedback to alessandratamino@yahoo.com! (Lesbian, FDom/F/F, authoritarian)
I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm a 27 year old brunette; I work for a charitable organization that provides grants for budding artists, and I'm fairly happy in my job. I have the respect of my peers, and an interest in art that makes each day interesting, but on the whole I have to contend with a great deal of ennui.
This story is about my attempt to add excitement to my life -- a bit more than I bargained for, but wonderful ...
I guess I should give my readers more background about myself. I'm 5'7", slim, athletic, with what I think are very lovely legs and firm buttocks.
My eyes are green: my grandparents hail from the north of Italy. My breasts are fairly small, but my nipples are large. I loathe silicone.
My romantic life has been pretty disappointing: I have to fend off the advances of clumsily lewd older men; the younger guys are just too stupidfor my tastes, except perhaps for one, Ernie, who used to work with me.
One night after an especially successful fundraiser, and a few glassesof wine, I found myself in his arms in my apartment. After a long deep and delicious kiss he stepped back, and I couldn't believe what he said: "Sandra, I'd like to watch you to kiss my wife like that." I slapped him then and there and ushered him out. But somehow the thought remained, since I knew his wife well: a vivacious 30-year old redhead, very flamboyant, very sexy. He left the city with her shortly afterwards.
I kept thinking about women, though. Occasionally in my fantasies I imagined what it might be like to be with a beautiful girl, an 18 year old secretary, or sometimes an older woman, and I finally got up enough gumption to rent a few lesbian porn videos. But they were not satisfying: for one thing the music they played in these things was always awful, and the silicone-breasted girls were so phony; basically they were an insult to erotic intelligence. And anyway, I wanted a taste of something real.
I daren't approach any of my good girlfriends: if word got out my job would probably be in jeopardy, and I didn't want to risk some very strong friendships, since they were married and had possessive husbands and kids to deal with. Once I tried to go to a lesbian bar, but the sight of rough-looking tattooed and pierced dykes on the way in made me lose my nerve and I drove home in a panic.
Finally I decided to submit an ad: 'submit' being the operative word. What I really longed to do was to submit, absolutely and totally, to a beautiful woman, no, to two of them: I wanted to be used, thrilled, pleasured, and ... disciplined. Just remembering this gives me a tingle.
I carefully worded an ad and placed it in our downtown newspaper, anonymously: "Slim pouty green-eyed vixen, 5'7", seeks weekend withtwo lipstick lesbians willing to train me in the arts of pleasure and submission. Satisfaction guaranteed. Silicone-free."
I couldn't believe I ever had the nerve to write such a thing, but I figured I could always back out. Two days after the ad ran I received an email response, with a picture of two sensuous beauties, both topless: they looked to be in their 30s and I was weak in the knees at the prospect of meeting them, if in fact this wasn't some kind of internet joke. Jennifer and Melissa, a blonde and a redhead: their breasts were thankfully natural from what I could tell. They emailed a phone numberand asked me to call.
Several days went by because I was simply afraid: afraid and aroused, but only when my arousal outweighed my fear did I give it a go, from a payphone.
"Hello," said the sultry voice on the other end. I stammered, "Hello," and said I was the girl who placed the ad, that I'd like to talk.
"Why don't we save the conversation for Friday night: I'll email you ouraddress and instructions. We'll be expecting you. What's your name?"
"Alessandra" I blurted out. Click, she hung up.
I rushed home to my computer and sure enough there was the address and instructions -- not driving instructions, mind you. They lived fairly close to me, downtown, in a high rise overlooking a park. They wanted me to arrive at 730 PM this Friday, and to plan to return home Sunday evening. They asked that I bring nothing except myself and my car keys, and that I wear a short sexy dress with no underwear, and high-heeled maryjanes. If I were a minute late the arrangement would be off. If I chose not to come they would never permit me to contact them.
That was it. I had only two days to decide, and if I really weregoing to go through with this, I wanted to do a little shopping: I wanted to find a stunningly sexy dress. The shoes were a puzzle to me: all the heels I had were strapless pumps, but I wanted to go along with their request.
I found my dress, a nearly sheer dark green, to accentuate my eyes; and I finally found the shoes after several hours and many quizzical glances from salespeople. But they looked more than fine. By Thursday night my level of sexual excitement was at fever pitch, so I decided to call in to work, to take a long weekend, telling my boss I wouldn't be in until Tuesday. This would give me time to get my act together both before and after the encounter.
But what did I expect anyway? I didn't even want to think ahead. Instead I spent my time bathing myself, sweetening myself up. This would probably all be a bust anyway. I shaved my pussy so that it was completely hairless and I fought off the impulse to touch myself. I coated my lovely body in oils, used my best shampoos: my hair was short, boyish, just enough for someone's handful though, and it shone with lustre.
The moment arrived. I pulled into their building's garage at 715 and the doorman let me through after I gave him my name. At 725 I knocked on the door of their apartment on the 19th floor. The blonde greeted me with a smile.
"Come in, Alessandra."
I entered. The apartment was lit low and tastefully; big windows over-looked the city below.
"I'm Melissa, and this is Jennifer," she said, pointing to her friend? lover? on the large curving sofa. Jennifer, the redhead, was a knockout: very tall, with shapely breasts and an unbelievably firm body; Melissa was smaller and a little less tight, more voluptuous.
They both seemed friendly, and I was relieved. I guessed that Jennifer was a bit older than Melissa, maybe 40, a stunning 40, while Melissa was probably in her early thirties.
"Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" Jennifer said, motioning for me to join her on the sofa, while Melissa poured me a small glass of red wine.
"I hope we'll get to know each other very well this weekend....."
She smiled and I had the urge to kiss her, to throw myself at her like a hungry tigress. But Melissa had moved to the back of the sofa and reading my intent lifted me up by the hair to a standing position.
"Not yet, beauty, we must be patient."
I gathered myself.
"Melissa, let's see what we have. Has she obeyed instructions?"
Melissa turned me around and lifted my skirt. "She seems to have been an obedient little girl, Jennifer."
"Good. What a lovely dress. Unburden her, Melissa."
Melissa produced a pair of scissors and cut the straps of my expensive dress. She then roughly pulled it down and asked me to step out of it. I watched in a mixture of horror and curiosity as she cut this wonderful piece of clothing into long strips.
"Alessandra, now that you've come you should know a few things. First, you may leave at any time, with your belongings. (She chuckled as she glanced my dress in tattered strips adorning a chair.) Second, if you choose to stay, you will be richly rewarded by a pleasure you've probably not even imagined. Third, from now on you will speak only when spoken to. We will be your mistresses and you will address us as 'Mistress' -- but only after we've given you permission. Understand?"
"Yes, mistress."
"Very good! She's so good, isn't she Melissa? And look at her lovely but ignorant body. She has the makings of a perfect little slut. Yes, that's what we'll call you: slut, bitch, cunt, whore, you get the idea."
I nodded, my throat completely dry.
Melissa moved behind me a ran her hands along the sides of my body; I shuddered. She gently caressed my breasts and I gasped with excitement, and then she took both nipples in her hands and pinched them. I cried out.
Jennifer furrowed her brow.
"You didn't have our permission to make a sound. I'm afraid we'll haveto teach you a few lessons."
"I'm sorry, mistress."
Melissa pulled my head back and pinched my right breast very hard.
"Who gave you permission to speak?"
"Melissa, I think our little slut needs some jewelry."
Melissa was gone for a minute and then returned with wrist and ankle cuffs, which she fastened on me and locked, and then a collar to which she attached a very long leather leash. She threaded the leash from a ring on its front, then under my aching pussy and up along my back, then through a ring at the back of the collar. When she pulled I could feel the pressure of the leather on my now-glistening cunt. She pulled sharply several times and I did all I could to keep from crying out. Jennifer began to smile as I grew dizzy from anticipation, excitement and fear.
"Tie her up and let her watch for a while."
Melissa pushed me to my knees and pulled the leash through the ankle bracelets behind my back, then knotted the leash to a table leg. I was kneeling, my hands bound tightly behind me, and I watched deliriously as Melissa went round the back of the sofa
directly behind Jennifer. She pulled up her dress with her right hand to reveal a beautiful pink pussy, hairless, smooth and puffy with arousal. With her left she yanked Jennifer's head backwards and guided her eager tongue into her slit. The sight had me reeling with desire and I grew more and more excited as I heard the quiet Melissa command Jennifer.
"Lick me, you lovely bitch, lick me in front of my new plaything."
Jennifer complied as Melissa continued to pull her hair and rub her cunt all along her face. Occasionally she moved a hand to pull on one of Jennifer's nipples, and when she did so Jennifer parted her legs to show a growing wetness. Her cunt was also hairless, and I wished I could have crawled over to lick it for her.
"You like what you see, don't you, bitch?" cried Melissa to me. "If you're good maybe you'll get some."
Then she pulled Jennifer's pert breasts out of her dress and began to slap them, at first lightly, then harder and harder until Jennifer was arching her back and licking Melissa like a frenzied bitch. Her hands began to slap Melissa's ass and this drove Melissa into further wildness. Jennifer's nipples were hard, red and swollen from the slapping and the yearning to be kissed.
Then Melissa abruply stepped away. All three of us must have been on the verge of coming... if a breeze had waftedmy way I would have shuddered with an orgasm: I longed to be touched, to touch myself, and to be between Jennifer's hot wet legs, to kiss her exquisitely sensitized nipples, even to be pinched and slapped myself by my mistresses; me, a conservative little thing who had never so much as kissed a girl or woman.
In the space of minutes, I had turned into a degenerate lesbian slut. And I was loving it.
(Please send feedback if you'd like more)