Hot Summer

"If you are younger than eighteen years If sex is taboo to your neighborhood peers If offended by words of frank, sexual sleaze Take your eyes elsewhere, immediately, please.

Please ask permission before posting this story elsewhere."

(c)2001 by Sara H

Hot Summer

by Sara H

Categories: FF, F-dom, MC, NC, cons, inc

I loved Reidsville Road. It was the heart of the Grands, an area of the city marked by a wonderful cross section of society. Old, young, rich, poor, black, white, asian, straight, gay... it was a model of tolerance, held together by people who loved the parks and art shops, and wanted to be surrounded by something other than corporate America.

It was the fringe come to life.

Anyway, I was taking my standard Saturday morning walk down the R and R, the local name for this street lined with small art shops, cafes and alternative medicine offices, all of which were housed in old, converted Victorian houses. It was always a nice break from the week, and from the stress of playing CYA with my co-workers at the office. Working for lawyers sucked.

The R and R was not too busy yet. Noon brought the masses, but ten in the morning was still too early for most, especially in mid-winter. This was "local time"... time to visit and hang out if anything interesting was going on.

Lots of businesses had come and gone over the years, so it was no surprise to see a new one nestled between my favorite bookstore and a hairstyling salon. The name was unusual, though, and it stuck out among the more sedate names around it: "Carnal Collectibles".

It was really pretty brazen, even for the Grands. Why not something else a bit less overt? Regardless, I had to go in and meet the owner. After five years, I was pretty well known among the various shopkeepers, and I was not one to make any exceptions. It was nice to be known, waved to, and smiled at simply for being around, and it didn't happen by accident. No one knows you if you don't say hello.

I laughed inwardly as I walked up the short sidewalk to the door. Twenty-three, and already a socialite.

As I got close to the stained-glass door, I saw a smaller, hand-painted sign. "Sex and Art and the Art of Sex, by Womyn, for Womyn." Curiosity swelled inside me as I reached for the knob. I wasn't a lesbian, but in truth, I had always found women's erotica more appealing. It was usually as much about ambience as it was about sex. And when it was about sex, it was "in your face" in a way that was hard to resist, at least for me.

And one thing we'd never had was a sex toy boutique. Quite surprising, really, considering the area, but hey, we're still in the south, and the Bible Belt doesn't usually hold up very sexy pants.

Have you ever walked into a place where you could feel the money? Well, this place was like that. The entryway had been restored to Victorian splendor. Not overdone, but not understated. The stairway curving around to the upstairs was covered in dark wood paneling, with brass sconces that, along with the furnishings, gave a sense of stepping back into history, a kind of bordello for the Material Girl.

Appropriate luxury. Not tacky. Not simple. There was no hint of novelty at all. I was impressed and captivated.

I noticed that all of the street sounds were gone. Someone had put a lot into this. Opulence was not unusual for the Grands, but this was certainly a different vision. Shops came in every variety, from Sam's Used Furniture to Le Metro, but this was a new idea. Or an old one. Well, it was tres cool.

"Hello!" came a chirpy female voice. I nearly jumped out of my skin -- I'd been so absorbed by my surroundings that I hadn't noticed the woman who had stepped through the curtains from one of the parlors off the main entrance.

"Hi," I answered, blinking. She was fifty-ish, with graying light brown hair cut in a pageboy style. It was funny, wearing the t-shirt and jeans she had on didn't look out of place at all here. It just made it more comfortable.

"I'm Wendy Daniels. Since you're my first customer, what do you think of the store?" she said smiling, wiping the back of her hand across her brow. She'd obviously been working... she was slightly out of breath.

"You own this place?" I asked. The look on my face must have been pure amazement, because she laughed a bit. I relaxed, sensing my own silliness, and I let myself laugh a little, too.

"Well, I won a lottery two years ago. After the usual unknown relatives coming out of the woodwork for handouts, I decided to disappear and live my dream, starting then. This is it."

What an odd thing to tell me, when a yes would do. People don't usually say that much unless they haven't been around friends for awhile. I made a guess. "You're new in town, then?"

"Yep. I was driving through when I found the Grands. I traveled all the way up into Canada, but this place kind of called me back," she said.

"Well, for people who like it here, it's that way. I guess you found your home, like the rest of us."

"I guess. I have some additions to make to complete my store, but it's only opening day. If you're not busy, I'll give you a personal tour, Ms...."

"Blair. Summer Blair. Sorry, I guess I was caught up in the ambience."

"No, no... it's no problem, Summer. Hmm. Summer sounds hot," she said, moving a bit closer and smiling as she cocked her head slightly to the side.

I gave a thin smile. That particular joking observation, first made in high school by a would-be clever boy, never really set well with me. Thanks, Mom, I said silently.

She noted my reaction, and to my happiness, did the best thing she could have: she ignored the fact that she had said it. It wasn't the implied come-on that had bothered me. When you live in midwest Bohemia, you either learn to accept people where they are, or you leave.

She hadn't moved away from me, though. I felt the usual, pleasant wave of flattery sizzle slightly in my brain. "Do you get that a lot?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. So much for letting it go.

"The name comment or the come-on?" I asked, smiling. Usually calling someone on it was enough to end the moment without creating an awkward reaction.

"Both," she said, breathily. She was close enough that the scent of her breath drifted into my nose. It was the oddest thing. It was almost like it was perfumed. You know, the kind of thing you can't smell if you try, but that drifts around your senses, teasing you with the possibility of pleasant daydreams. "Tell me the truth."

The scent again. I looked into her eyes. Hazel. Dilated. The hairs on the back of my neck came to life instinctively. In less than a split second, I went from casual conversation to realizing this was possibly a dangerous woman. At least dangerous in a personal sense. Alarms went off even more loudly as I realized that part of me didn't care. This was all wrong.

"Tell me. Now."

Tell me. Tell me. Tell me, answered my thoughts. I closed my eyes, trying to stop the echo. It only made it worse. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME, screamed my brain.

"The name, since I was in eighth grade and Tim Williams said it on the bus. I blushed, and everyone called me Hot Summer for two years. I hated it. Every time someone says it, or anything close, it makes me mad. The come-ons are flattering, but I'm not attracted to women, so I just nicely say no."

"Except to me," she said. The scent was everywhere now, and my head was buzzing strangely over a muted throb. The entryway seemed covered in sparkles dancing on the edges of everything. EXCEPT TO YOU, my brain shouted at me, over and over.

"And it makes you wet when I call you Hot Summer," she added, her face so close I couldn't focus. My body jerked slightly. It was as if somewhere inside I was trying to get my feet to move. They were glued to the floor. I began to panic as her words circled my brain, faster and faster. "Breathe more deeply and tell me," she said, as if she could sense my fear. "Tell me what makes you wet."

"It... it..."

"Breathe. Tell."

I tried to hold it back but my thoughts were completely out the door, except for the phrase echoing over and over. It was so loud it was painful. I could sense her smile. I inhaled deeply and felt my body relax more. I wanted to cry, to stop, to do something I could call my own. Then it came to me. I could still speak. Yes. I still had a voice.

"It makes me wet when you call me Hot Summer," I said, exhaling loudly as the pressure released. "What the hell... is this..." I managed to get in before she spoke and erased my thoughts again.

"An appetizer," she said, filling my head with glorious perfume.

"You only tell me the truth. So it's only fair that I tell you the truth, too. Everything I say is the truth. Everything I say is perfect. It's so true that you can see how futile it is to argue or resist... isn't that so?"

There was nothing I could say to counter it. It was so logical. So solid. "Yes, it's so," I said, happy to get the right answer.

"And when my truth and your truth don't match, my truth destroys your truth, erases it, obliterates it... because my truth is the only truth that matters now. You agree, don't you? You do feel how wonderful and sexy it feels to be shown the truth, don't you? You're not dense. You are a smart woman who craves and accepts the truth. I always know. I can tell."

She paused as the words covered my brain with sparkling, gooey sweetness and light. I looked at her in awe. She was the most pure woman I'd ever met. How could I have been so naive, so arrogant only moments before, to think that I would want to run from this place?

"Are you heterosexual, bisexual, or lesbian?" she asked, jerking me out of my reverie.

"Heterosexual," I answered without hesitation.

"And you have a boyfriend?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, smiling as I thought of him.

"And he treats you well?"

"Very well."

"Does he do things that get on your nerves?"

"Yes," I answered truthfully. I was basking in the sun of suns. I was craving every word, gleefully feeling them massage my thoughts and demand my response. It was so easy, so luxurious.

"List them," she demanded.

"He doesn't flush. He leaves the toilet lid up. He never helps with the dishes. He gets ashes all over everything when he smokes. He's always late. He doesn't turn out the lights..." The list went on and on.

In fact, it was beginning to bring me down, there were so many things. Things that bothered me that I just accepted and never thought about anymore. I breathed the perfume just to keep from falling into despair. From everyday life to emotionless sex, my lips kept moving, painting him as he truly was. I was in pain.

"I'm sure he has his good points," she said, breaking in.

"Yes," I agreed, finally glad to have the litany of sins end.

"But they are unimportant, compared to his failings. Why do you love a man like that?" she asked. Perfume. Eyes.

I searched for the answer. I did. All I could come up with was, "I don't know."

"You don't know because it's not love. You are using him to help you feel good about yourself. You like that he finds you attractive, wants to be around you. It makes you feel worthwhile. You don't even like sex with him. In fact, it is the most horrible task you feel obligated to perform. He's ugly. He has an ugly male body, and an ugly male mind, just like all men. That's not love. That's self-deception. Worse, it's self-abuse.

"Do you know why you abuse yourself?"

"No," I said, tears filling my eyes.

"Because there is an empty place in your soul that you cannot fill. There are many empty places. The largest, though, is the one that craves love."

I was dying. I had wasted my life. I was tormented with my realizations, in torture and sorrow beyond imagining. It was all coming so fast that I was being run over. And over. And over. I couldn't keep up with the misery.

I'd never known such blackness, even when my mother had died. The physical pain was pulling the innards out of my chest as I heaved, sobbing uncontrollably. I was alone. Alone! Every love a sham... every man a deceiver, every touch a betrayal. I wanted to die. It had come too fast for me to live through. Just let me go now, just let me go... the voice in my head chanted in an unending mantra.

And then, I heard an angel speak...

"It is a place only a woman can fill. A place only I can fill. A place of complete trust and love. A place that allows you to do anything I ask, because I ask it, because I am Truth."

I didn't know what to do. I was in a dungeon. I saw the light creep in. I saw my salvation. I grasped onto it, holding fast, hoping despite myself that it would pull me away from the pain of the reality of my life. I pulled my mind, my soul, to her. To her comfort. To her Truth.

I saw her eyes. That's when I knew. It should have been obvious before. It was, to her. Destiny had brought me to this place, this turning point. I felt my heart swell in hope as she smiled and my head filled with the scent of her breath. I saw her sparkling, making my brain sing inside my skull, pulling me forward, out of the abyss that had so nearly consumed me.

"Tell me who I am."

"You are," I said, shaking with grateful sobs, "my Love, my Life, my Light, my Truth." I hoped with all my being that it would be, could be true.

"Yes, love," she answered. "And more than that. Your Guide. Your Owner. Your Teacher. Your Mistress. And you are ready to learn."

She kissed me, and breathed into me, as my tears of pain fell away and were replaced by tears of beautiful, blissful joy. Her tongue tasted of the scent of Her breath, and I suckled it like a baby, basking in goodness and love and... yes, in arousal. My skin erupted in goose pimples as the sensation of Her arms around me slammed home with the fury of a cyclone.

I was beyond words, now. She stepped away and smiled, holding out Her hand for me to take. It was the moment of truth. I gently took it, timidly looking down as I felt the honor of Her desire enter my being.

She led me into an adjoining room and then through a hidden door, down a set of stairs and to a chair, facing a table.

The room was bathed in the scent She had given me.

"The problem with your new knowledge is that it won't last. The Aroma of Obedience only allows Me to open the door to your mind. There are other things we must do to complete your journey to your new life," she said, caressing me gently with her fingers and her voice.

"You want this. You need this. You must let yourself go and become Mine, become My True Slut. My slave. Any resistance must be melted away, burned into obedience. You must do this as I guide you. You must destroy your sinful, evil resistance. You have no choice, Hot Summer."

Her words made my body jerk with their power. Arousal swept through me like a gasoline fire. It was the strongest Truth I had ever known.

Deep inside, I felt a small part of me, begging me to fight what was happening. I turned the blast furnace of my sexual need on it, and watched as it caught fire, the fire of Her will, charred into a black shell that fell away to reveal the golden obedience inside, like a butterfly emerging from the dead husk of its chrysalis.

I must have been speaking out loud, because She said, "Yes, and soon you will be reborn into My butterfly, the perfect being and expression of My lust and will."

She pressed my head forward gently into a kind of viewer, like one of those things you see at flea markets, but much more form-fitting on my face. My eyes were bathed in darkness. I felt something strapped over my nose and deeply into my mouth, almost to the back of my throat, and the Aroma of Obedience became the totality of every breath.

I felt my pants being cut away, followed by the rest of my clothes, and something placed tight against my wetness. As the cool air wafted across my naked skin, a tight bra-like device was placed around my chest, and I felt something bite gently into my nipples. I tried to grind and squirm to feel more, but must have been restrained, because I couldn't move. Even my arms and legs felt anchored. I moaned loudly in my need, my mind seeking even the implied instruction of Her touch.

Laughing, She said, "Very good, Hot Summer. I knew I had chosen well." In the blackness, I heard Her words entwine themselves into the fabric of my thoughts. "Yes, My little lesbian slut. That's right. Lesbian. You are Mine now, and you will be Mine until the day you die. I'll be back tonight. I think I hear another customer upstairs, perhaps a sister for you. Learn well, Hot Summer."

I felt something being pressed into my ears, and I was alone with the thunder of my heartbeat and aroused breathing. I was beyond caring. I only wanted Her words. Her sex. Her Truth.

I moaned loudly as light and color burst into my eyes.

I honestly don't know how long I sat there, cumming as my pussy vibrated to the Truth pouring into me, merging with every thought, with every desire. My hot titties shook and pulled in rhythm with the chants droning on in my ears, over and over.

Images of my Mistress mixed with colors and patterns and instructions so overwhelming that to defy them was a joke, a stab at insanity. Futile. Useless. Thoughts that had to be destroyed and replaced with Her truth and my love and devotion.

My arms ached from the exertion of the spasms that wracked my body as I came for her over and over, passing out and being reawakened, and starting the climb over again.

I saw men and men's lies, felt the pain of being around them. I saw the faces of men I'd so innocently given myself, and heard their words as they talked about me with their friends.

The aroma filled me. Sealed truth into me. When I couldn't take any more and fell into screaming pain and fear at the thought of them, She came to comfort me.

She was my rescuer. She was my salvation. Life without Wendy became impossible to imagine. There was no other way it could, or would be possible.

Now that I knew the truth, now that I had tasted Her pleasure and love, there was nothing I wanted more than to please Her, to see to Her needs, to protect and cherish Her in every way I could.

Commands droned into me for an eternity. I recited them back. I learned them, I lived them... I became them to better honor Her. It wasn't about choice. It was about destiny. It was about reality. It was about hot summer tongue slave cunt lapper pain slut dyke bitch ass licker.

Light danced and sparkled in my eyes and in my soul. And then it was time for the test... the final moment that would make me Hers, as I craved to be, for all eternity.

Her words whispered in my ear. The Aroma of Obedience vanished and was replaced with something new, something sweeter, something I could feel bonding to the inside of my mouth and throat and lungs. I felt the sweetness, cold and burning, move outward into my bloodstream. I felt it enter my brain and nest there.

"I will say the words 'Mistress is Life' again in a few moments. When you hear the words, you will cum for me. It will start in your fingers and toes, moving into your chest and from there, to your pussy and brain. Your entire body will sing My praises as you climax. Know that it is you who does this, and no machine, as no machine could ever do such a thing. This is beyond the physical plane. This is a spiritual orgasm. As you attain it, it will seal you to My will for all eternity. Without it, you will only be a slutty little dyke slave. When it happens, you will become one of My army of lesbian angels."

There was silence as the power of Her words flowed into me, the cloying air coating my insides in preparation for my rebirth.

"Mistress is Life."

For a moment, I felt fear. Nothing was happening. Wait. Was that a tingle in my finger? In my toe? Yes. It was starting.

Soon, my fingers and toes were clenching and opening in orgiastic delight, as the tremors spread down my arms and up my legs, collecting in my chest, building into a storm of desire.

I tensed over and over... I could feel my arms and legs bruising against the straps that held them in place.

And then it swept out, over and through me, banging my head forward and back as all thought left me and my pussy erupted in the scalding lava of my juices. My head thrashed, beating the viewer against me, searing my brain with fire and unquenchable passion... cumming and fucking my soul... my spirit... i was cumming... i was cum... pleasure... fuckwhore... slavecunt... angelcum... sparklefuck... cuntsuckbitchfuckasslickcumslutfuckangel...

And as i thrashed in pleasure, sealing myself to obedience and pleasure for Her, i saw it... my chrysalis, falling away... i was golden... i was passionangel... i was sexdemon... i was flying to Her forever.

i was Hers.

You know, Ken didn't really fight about it when i told him goodbye. i think he'd been looking for a way out. Just like the end of every relationship before, he'd never said a word about it.

And as for me, my life is so much simpler. Mistress is strict, but serving Her is not complicated. She commands, i obey, and the obedience is better than the sex, and the sex is beyond what you can imagine.

i've been working in the store about six months now, and my only problem has been my inability to resist testing the merchandise. i don't mind though... Mistress makes sure i am promptly disciplined. And disciplining always makes Her horny. There is no losing. There is only the painful or sweet pleasure of Mistress's will.

And there are the training sessions. Hours of psychobonding and the Aroma, followed by hours of devoting my heart, body and soul to Her more completely with every breath i take, devouring Her essence as i gain the worthiness to worship Her feet, Her legs, Her fingers... and the ultimate paradise of groveling enough to taste Her essence, after bathing Her completely with my tongue.

She even sometimes allows me to reveal Her Glory to others... my former sister, lana, now sister-angel, was the first i was given the honor to indoctrinate. At eighteen, she is so fortunate to bypass the waste of her life that college would be. her tongue and thoughts are better put to use in my pleasure, and mine in hers, as we chant our mewling adoration of and undying devotion to our Mistress of Truth.

And i love staring into her worshipful eyes as we glide up and down on the Wands of Redemption, pussies and assholes filled, breathing deeply of the Aroma, while Mistress watches and pleasures Herself, deciding which of us will be given the honor of giving Her a moment of Transcendence, as She takes us with Her into the Higher Realm of Mindless Worship and Pleasure.

Not every customer becomes an angel, of course, but every one becomes a follower. And soon we are to attend a closed session of the Grands Coucil of Women Entrepreneurs... kindly arranged by councilwoman selma truman, one of Mistress's most devoted customersluts. Mistress says it's time to expand Her horizons.

And i am Her devoted angel. Mistress is Life.

Now, if you'll pardon me, my Collar of Instruction is chiming. i have to clean the Parlors and Enlightenment Cells, and refresh the aromatherapy generators. We're expecting quite a few new customers today, and by tonight, i'm anticipating an orgy that will eclipse perhaps all that have come before. The sun is out and people like to come in out of the heat. Soon, they will find the newer, True Heat that awaits them here, with the Woman of Perfection, now and forever.

As Mistress says when She is happiest with me, a hot summer is always good for business.

Mmmmmmmm... fuck, yes... and who am i to argue with that?

Please feel free and encouraged (since I love email) to send any comments or feedback to cats_sara@yahoo.com. Please mention the name of the story about which you are commenting.

• Sara