Friday, August 24, 2012


Welcome to my newest story.  This is going to be something of an experiment for me, as I'm going to write this as it needs to be written every week, and not work it as I would my other projects.  It'll be interesting, if nothing else.

That said, this is always a first draft, and if I missed something in editing, don't beat me up too bad.  Remember:  you get what you pay for.


Part Four

With Martha here I was in a near-panic.  I now knew why Olivia had a closet full of bondage gear and sexy outfits, but I had no idea she was bi-sexual.  Or . . . could it be she was a lesbian, and what I saw passing between her and Cragi only my overheated imagination at work?

If I was going to end up a lesbian, I was going to be the shittiest one on record, because the idea of being with another woman had never entered my head.  I wasn't bothered, or disgusted, by the thought:  it was just that I'd never, ever, given it any thought.

And Martha was going to realize this the moment she did something like kiss me.

Ten minutes later she emerged from my bedroom.  She was naked save for a thick, black collar around her neck, black stockings, and platform pumps with the most outrageous heels I'd ever seen.  She set some clothing on the sofa, then turned to me, smiling.  "May I undress you, Mistress?' she asked sweetly.

As long as Martha was asking questions, it would be easy to answer.  "Yes, please," I said with some tone, trying to sound like I was in control of--something.

The moment I spoke I knew I'd done something wrong, because the look on Martha's face was priceless.  She didn't quite frown, but it was so close as to one.  In a moment I understood:  I did something she didn't expect--I said, "Please".  Now, she was trying to figure out what was wrong without asking me.

People in control don't say "Please", I thought.  They give orders.  This isn't work; this is your house, and Martha's following your every order--

"Come," I said with a bit more sternness.  "Undress me, and let me see what you've picked up."  I clapped my hands.  "Move, girl!"

This was more like it, because Martha nodded and said, "Yes, Mistress," then began undressing me.

Martha was very careful with her movements, and careful with my clothing.  Though I'd worn yoga pants and a pull over tee shirt, she treated them as if they were the finest garments.  Of course they were:  they belonged to her mistress.  I understood this was something they'd done for some time; Martha's actions were not those of a novice.  This made me a bit more nervous than I had been moments before . . .

Then she slipped my panties down to my ankles, and gently lifted my feet.  I was naked, with her.  I'd not been naked with another woman since--well, years.  And never like this:  always in a locker room, a shower, somewhere communal.  This was far more . . . Personal.  Private.  Sensual.

When Martha stood, her gaze was centered on my breasts.  It was only when she smiled that I felt, rather than saw, what amused her:  my nipples were painfully erect.

It wasn't a reaction I expected--but it wasn't one that I was ready to ignore.

She asked if she could dress me, and I told her to begin.  As nicely as she undressed me, she did the same fitting me into my--"mistress attire".  A short, black silk dress; matching long gloves; black stockings, and ankle boots with very high heels.  I expected something more--I don't know, stereotypical?

Martha stepped back, taking me in.  My nipples were driving me crazy; I wasn't wearing any undergarments, and the dress was making my oh-so-sensitive nipples intensely more painful.

But in a great way.

Martha stood there as I examined myself with my eyes and hands.  "This is so nice, Martha."  I stepped closer and touched her left cheek with the palm of my hand.  "You know how . . . to please me."

Martha's grin was infectious, and I felt the same grin spreading across my face at the same time.  She was happy, and that made me feel as if I was giving her what she needed--even though, at that point, I had no idea as to what she needed.

"I'm always happy to please you, Mistress," she said.  Her hand slid up and touched mine.  "There is something wrong with you, though; I can tell."  She leaned against my palm.  "I know your moods so well, you know."

Her statement gave me some information I could use:  obviously, they'd been involved in this mistress/submissive relationship for some time, so Martha knew Olivia in . . . very intimate ways.  But by saying she knew her moods--  This was going to be tricky, because I could slip up and give myself away if I wasn't careful.

Or, if I didn't come up with a convincing lie.

I walked over to the sofa.  "I don't feel right tonight," I said while sitting.  "I don't know why--I'm just off tonight."  I looked up, smiling.  "Not very mistressy, I guess."

Martha came over, but rather than sit next to me, she knelt before me.  I should have expected that, but her action still surprised me.  "It's everything with work this week," she said, and there wasn't any need to elaborate.  "Your mind isn't on us tonight."

"You're right," I said, but I was thinking, Will it ever be?  Could I ever be the mistress that the real Olivia was?  Would I ever fool Martha?  Was she going to figure out that I wasn't who she thought I was?  "The last couple of days have been overwhelming.  I don't have . . ."  I shook my head.  "My head isn't in the right place this moment."

Martha smiled.  "Maybe I could do something that would get it in the right place?"

I thought, Here comes the offer of sex, but tried not to let that thought show on my face.  "What do you have in mind, dear?"

The "Dear" confused her once again, but only for a moment.  The expression vanished as she stood, then came and sat next to me.  She put her hands upon my shoulders, and began to position me so I was sitting away from her.

Martha started massaging my shoulders and back.

It would be easy to say, "I'd been ages since I'd last had one," but this was a first for me.  But so was stealing another person's life, so surprises were expected.  It felt so good, though, with Martha's fingers working my neck and shoulder muscles so expertly.  She'd worked beside me in the lab for a few years, and never once would I have imagined those skilled hands of hers capable of this sort of activity.

She was causing me to purr with pleasure.

"Mistress is enjoying herself?" she asked.

"Very much, love."

She unzipped my dress and shrugged it from my shoulders, sliding my arms out and letting it fall to my waist.  "Allow me--"  Martha started in on my back, and her experienced fingers worked my taunt muscles with what I imagined was a near-professional level of technique.

As I was falling under her spell, Martha leaned against my back.  "Mistress?" she whispered into my right ear.


"I so want you to fuck me like the sex toy I am."

It was a good thing she was behind me, because I know my eyes bugged out for a second.  I said nothing, imagining how I would do such a thing.

"I want to taste your fragrant cunt."  Her voice was soft, secured--almost demanding.  "I want to feel your fingernails pinching my nipples.  I want to bathe in your piss--"

I turned my head and looked at her.  "You do?" I whispered.

"I want you to fuck me with your biggest strap on."  She smiled.  "I want you to completely own me."  Martha nibbled on my shoulder.  "I never want to leave you."

I was wrong when I said my life changed when I became Olivia D'avana.  Nor did it change when I returned from the bedroom.  Nor when I laid a naked Martha Kring on my dining room table, yanked her legs open, and fucked her with the ten inch strap on I wore.

No, my life changed the moment I finished fucking Martha on my table--bringing myself to the most intense orgasm--then dragged her off the table and into my kitchen, straddled her prone body, and pissed on her while she moaned in ecstasy--

My life changed as I found myself enjoying every fucking second of what I was doing to her.

How the hell could this happen?

Read Part Five Here
Read Part Three Again

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