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| You are what you eat | Back to B | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
updated dec 5 2007
F/f, humil,
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
>>find more at literotica
You Are What You Eat
by krr1957©
This story deals with strong themes of reluctant lesbian sex. If such material is likely to offend you then please find yourself another story.
Chapter 7
I took my trip to the Far East, pleased just to be away from everyone that I knew for a space of time. I spent two weeks at a Buddhist seminary in the north of Thailand and then a further two weeks taking in the sights of Cambodia and Vietnam where I was surprised to find, even now, such a stark contrast between the previously American influenced Ho Chi Minh City and the northern capital of Hanoi.
The people of the south still referred to Ho Chi Minh but its former colonial name of Saigon and saw themselves as in some way different to their northern cousins.
When I finally, and reluctantly, boarded the plane home I felt refreshed but I had not confronted my demons; all I had done was to push them to the back of my mind.
Once back in London I spent a hectic three days catching up and using some of what I had learnt to help calm my agent who was growing frantic about my growing list of obligations. I assured her that things were back to normal and she was heartened by the news that I was going to be living in the capital after all.
Amongst my correspondence were a number of letters from Mateus. He begged me to return and I found that I had missed him but things had gone too far.
The last letter, dated just two days before my return, made it clear that he read my silence as a refusal. He wrote that he still loved me and that his home would always be open to me. In none of the correspondence did he allude to any sort of improper relationship with Izabel but he did sign off by mentioning that she would not be pursuing her post-graduate studies in Portugal.
I was beginning to think that things were back on an even keel when Claire phoned.
"How was Thailand?"
"Very relaxing. How was the States?"
"Tiring. I don't want to see another hotel or bookshop for quite some time."
"Look, Claire, it was nice of you to call but I think it best if we don't contact one another for a while."
"I'm sorry to hear you say that. It got lonely in the States, just me and a representative from my publishers. Sure, there were a few dinners thrown in my honour but usually I would wind up back in my room with only my vibrator for company.
Do you know what I thought about while I was masturbating? You. You and your sweet little tongue. I'm touching myself right now thinking about it. Do you want to come over?"
I put the phone down without another word. In the kitchen I poured myself a glass of wine but my hand was trembling as I brought it to my mouth. I put it down in frustration and snatched my car keys off of the worktop.
I could not shake the idea that she had somehow scored a victory over me and it seemed important to confront her. I wanted her to be clear that I was not skulking away, I was ending our relationship on my own terms.
At her front door I took a deep breath and rang the bell. She took a long time to answer and I was at the point of turning away when she finally opened the door. She was dressed in a short towelling robe and holding a tall glass of gin and tonic.
When she saw me she beamed.
"I knew you'd come."
"Claire, I am here to say goodbye."
She turned back into hall.
"Come on in"
"Claire, I ..."
She was already turning into the living room and, not wanting to appear rude, I followed her closing the door behind me.
On entering the living room I could not help but look through to the dining area where the table sat innocently covered with a flawlessly pressed white cloth. Claire followed my train of thought and, behind me, she gaily admonished.
"You naughty girl."
I turned to find her seated in an armchair her robe now discarded. Once again I could not help but be impressed with her nakedness but she seemed heedless as she casually sipped at her drink. Then, as though unwrapping a gift, she opened her legs.
"Down on your knees baby."
I felt a now familiar wrench inside as the person I really wanted to be fought with the slut who, once again, began to emerge.
I could smell her from across the room and it was clear that she had not been kidding. Her sex looked raw and wet and she had obviously been warming herself up. It was almost like tunnel vision as everything drifted out of focus except for her font which triggered a thirst demanding to be quenched.
I closed the space between us in a numb daze and, like a penitent, I went slowly to my knees.
"A quick one, just to get started, then we can get comfortable in the bedroom."
True to her word it did not take long. In less than two minutes she reached the climax that she had teasingly denied herself.
"Clean me up babe"
I lovingly ran my tongue over her mound where her pubic hair was more unkempt than I remembered it.
"Do you like my new look? I'm dating a Frenchman at the moment and he likes things a little more natural."
This reminder that she enjoyed a normal sex life outside of our twisted arrangement was almost like a stab to the heart but I did not stop.
"The odd thing is that he's reluctant to go down on me but, now that I have you, that's hardly a problem is it?"
She spoke in such an offhand manner, confident that our new relationship was to be ongoing, and I did not have the inner strength to deny her.
"Come into the bedroom and get undressed."
I looked up at her. Was she prepared to reciprocate after all? I could not tell as she languidly rose from the chair leaving me to follow.
She sat up on the bed and watched me as I self-consciously took off my clothes and folded them onto the back of a chair.
"Come and lie here."
The room itself was predominantly white but in stark contrast to this was the bed itself. It was a large double with a matt black wrought iron headboard.
She moved over to give me room and I laid on my back waiting for her to make the next move. She leant up and, for a moment or two, she surveyed my body leaving me to fight the urge to cover myself. She seemed amused when my nervous excitement caused my nipples to harden.
Without another word she moved to lay on top of me and gently caressed my arm causing goose bumps to form. I closed my eyes and felt an electric thrill as her heavy breast slipped over mine bringing our nipples together.
I lifted my arms and brought my hands together behind my head in the hope that she would use her hands elsewhere on my body but she carried on gently stroking just inside my elbow. The sensation was almost ticklish and I stretched my arm wide. It was then I heard the click.
"What are you doing?"
"Shushh...stay still"
My wrist was secured in a shiny steel cuff and before I could come to terms with it she slid its twin from under the pillow and secured my other arm. A panicked jerk was enough to tell me that I was now firmly secured to the headboard.
"Claire, you don't need these, just make love to me ...please"
She got up from the bed and laughed.
"Don't you listen? You're here for my pleasure not me for yours."
I felt deflated and embarrassed that I had misread the situation but I could not rid myself of the conviction that she had teased me deliberately.
"Whilst I was in the States I had some time on my hands and so I did a bit of research on the net. You'd be surprised how many women like you there are out there, submissives getting their kicks from degradation. Well if that's what you want I can certainly accommodate you."
"It's not like that!"
She ignored me as she reached under the bed.
"Look, I've brought you a present"
She was holding up a black latex phallus, at least ten inches long, detailed with a retracted foreskin and bulbous head. It came with a set of straps and fear made my heart turn cold.
"Claire, I don't want this!"
The prospect of being penetrated by such a thing was anything but pleasant but I had badly misconstrued her intentions. Before I could react she pushed the thing into my mouth and by the time I had started to resist she had already slipped the strap behind my head and drawn it tight.
I lay there with the bottom two inches of the shaft filling my mouth with a horribly acrid taste whilst the remainder of it protruded proudly from my face. I shook my head as I frantically tried to force the thing out of my mouth with my tongue but the strap kept it firmly in place.
She watched my struggles with an amused expression as she took another sip of her drink. After a moment or two she picked up a tube of lubricant, which I had missed, and she squeezed a measure into the palm of her hand. She took hold of the shaft and, whilst I continued to resist, she used the movement to liberally smear it all over.
Once she was satisfied she went through to the en suite, presumably to wash her hands, leaving me to try and shout after her but all I could mange was a stifled gagging noise.
When she came back into the room my face was red with anger and frustration but she was completely unmoved. She slinked up onto the bed with feline grace and pinned my shoulders with her knees. I kicked my legs as I desperately tried to unseat her but she simply laughed as she sat tight and waited for me to tire.
In the end it was lack of breath that defeated me. The shaft made it difficult to breathe properly and I could no longer fuel my struggles.
"I think I'm going to enjoy this."
She clamped the sides of my face with her knees and lifted herself over the shaft. I watched with a mixture of fear and warped fascination as she teased herself over the tip and slowly but surely allowed it to penetrate her. She did it unhurriedly and it took at least a couple of minutes to accommodate the first inch.
Each tiny movement was transmitted as an uncomfortable pressure on my mouth and I was confronted with an unwanted close-up of her labia now stretched so tight around the shaft that her clitoris was clearly in view.
"Are you ready?"
I wanted to shake my head and say no but to do so would only have been painful and all I could do was watch as she slowly relaxed and allowed herself to sink down the length of the shaft.
My heart rate leapt as I feared I would be choked but the strap prevented the shaft from being driven right to the back of my throat; nevertheless, the pressure on the front of my face and particularly my mouth, was not welcome.
Having sunk all the way day Claire groaned with pleasure but then she began to jostle herself slightly to see just how much abuse I could take without inflicting any lasting damage.
Once she had my measure she closed her eyes and began a slow rise and fall. Each down stroke brought with it a dull pain and, in wishing it was over, I found myself counting along with her steady rhythm. By the time I reached fifty she showed no signs of slowing but now, each time she came down, her taut labia created a creamy bow wave which was slowly but surely filling my nostrils.
I breathed as best I could through my mouth but, every now and again, I inadvertently took a bubbling breath through my nose flooding my senses with her rich scent. In my mind it became associated with a slow asphyxiation but there was no escaping it.
"This is just so nice...you'd better get used to it."
Her body was glistening with perspiration and, between her breasts, the tiny beads came together to form a rivulet that made its way slowly down over the plane of her stomach, skirting her navel, until it ran into the wet mess of her pubic hair.
Slowly but surely she cranked up the tempo but, in doing so, she was becoming more heedless of the pain she was inflicting. As she got nearer to her climax she opened her knees a little so that she could drive the shaft deeper and, taking advantage of the relaxation of pressure, I tried to shake my head but she had other ideas.
She took hold of my head in both hands and, twining her fingers in my hair, she held me fast as she started the final countdown.
She was literally bouncing on my face until, finally, she drove the shaft as deep as she could and held it there. I could no longer breathe and I thought that my teeth would be broken as I endured every shuddering vibration transmitted by the repulsive intruder.
When she got off of me I tried to convey my fury but she did not even look back. She left me alone, still fastened to the bed, and when she returned quarter of an hour later she still looked flush with excitement.
To the extent that the shaft would allow I shouted myself hoarse but she remained unmoved.
"Patience, patience, I know you want to play but you'll tire me out."
This wilful misinterpretation set me off again but my shouts of anger turned to screams of anguish as she climbed onto the bed again and, this time, facing towards my feet, she impaled herself once more
Hours later, I sat at home and cried. On leaving her flat I wanted to hit out at her but, in every sense, I was cowed. I left meekly, without a word.
I heard nothing from her for some days and vowed that I would have nothing more to do with her. Once again my work gave me strength and an upcoming exhibition at the New London gallery ensured that I was kept particularly busy.
As I met and greeted people on the day I was reassured that, at least professionally, my star was indeed moving into the ascendancy and I felt better than I had for some time. As the guests circulated I even heard the Turner prize being mentioned .
I went into the washroom and, staring at myself in the mirror, I allowed myself a silent cheer.
"Congratulations."
I shifted my eyes from my own reflection to that of Claire who had just exited one of the cubicles. Overcoming my initial shock I turned to face her. It was my own fault. My agent had put together the guest list and had, as usual, invited my close friends as well as the great and good of the art world. I had not even bothered to check the names.
"I'm disappointed. You've been ignoring me."
"Claire, you and I are finished. I should be grateful if you would leave as soon as it is reasonably polite to do so."
"I don't think you mean that."
"I'm serious. I don't want you in my life"
"I think your problem is that you have no idea what you want. You see, for me, it's different. Ever since I arrived this afternoon I knew that at some point you would be down on knees with your head between my legs. I've been creaming just at the thought of it."
"Claire, I don't care what you thought, just go."
She smiled at me as though indulging a small child and then, looking me straight in the eye she reached under her skirt, and removed her panties. Without thinking I checked to make sure that no one else had seen but we had the spacious facilities to ourselves. Without breaking eye contact she backed away from me and sat down on the lavatory with her legs open.
"Get in here and lock the door."
The suggestion was crude and the prospect sordid but I felt a treacherous tingling between my own legs which seemed to move of their own volition. I joined her within the narrow confines and, with my back to the door, I set the lock.
"There's a good girl."
The lid of the toilet was down and she shifted forward lifting her skirt at the same time. Her sex looked ripe, as ready as she had promised, and I went to my knees and worshipped. My knees hurt on the cold marble flooring and there was no escaping the sharp antiseptic smell of disinfectant but I was not put off. I plunged my tongue deep inside her hairy folds and sucked her dry.
We left the stall just before my agent popped her head in to see if anything was wrong but I assured her all was well and, after quickly fixing myself up, I rejoined the throng with Claire's taste still filling my mouth.
From then on I was enslaved to her. She would call me on a whim and I would come running. Often she wanted to be "warmed up" before going out with her boyfriend but there were other occasions. One morning, I received a call a little after four a.m. She told me that she was restless and asked me to come over. I dressed, drove across town, and spent nearly two hours sweating beneath her quilt as she drifted in and out of sleep.
I knew that it was irrational behaviour but, whilst it remained our secret and it did not impinge on my professional life, I did nothing to stop it.
I tried dating men and my feelings for them were much as they had ever been but, attractive as they were, I had no interest in a physical relationship. This caused me to fear that I was, in fact, a lesbian and I even went out with a woman on what amounted to a "date" but I did not feel right. My sexual drive was now entirely focused on my submission to Claire who, true to her word, never once reciprocated.
So it was with fear that I went to her flat following a phone call in which she said that she had something very important to tell me.When I arrived she told me to undress and to go through to the bedroom. This was usually a prelude to me being secured with handcuffs. She knew I hated being used in this way but it was this fact that brought out in her some of her most intense orgasms.
I lay on the bed and allowed her to secure all four limbs to the corner posts. She now employed cuffs attached to webbing belts which could be adjusted so that my bondage could be made stricter at her whim.
Now that I was fixed fast I looked towards the bedside cabinet where she kept the accursed dildo gag, and other toys besides, but she patted me gently on the head.
"Not today."
She went into the bathroom and come back with some cleansing pads with which, over the next few minutes, she proceeded to remove all traces of make-up from my face.
This was becoming a familiar prelude to one of her, by now, favourite activities. Once I was clean she picked up a tube of lubricant and began to meticulously apply a thin even coat over the whole of my face.
When she was finished she began to undress and, once she was naked, I felt the usual mix of excitement and unease. She moved closer to me allowing me to take in sight of her sex which she had recently taken to shaving and, as I watched, she took some more lubricant and spread it over her mound.
"Voila!"
She took her hand away to show me the result. Her mound glistened, her labia were a brighter pink, and it had the succulence of a tropical fruit.
I braced myself for what was to come but, in a new departure, she produced a velvet sleeping mask which she slipped over my eyes. Almost immediately I felt the bed yield as she moved into place.
She straddled my head and I could tell that she was facing down my body, a fact which brought with it a measure of trepidation. I felt the heat on my face as she slowly descended pausing to brush my nose with her labia - she wanted me to know how aroused she already was.
After that she settled her weight fully on my face and wriggled herself comfortable. My nose was driven deep into the cleft of her buttocks and pinched closed leaving me to breath as best I could through my mouth which was covered by her sex.
She was in no hurry. She rested there knowing that every breath I took was laden with the almost overbearing smell of her. When, finally, I shook my head to signal my distress she relented and began to move. To start with it was hardly a movement at all, she simply rocked in place, but then she began to use her hips. Like a locomotive gathering steam she picked up pace. At first she slid just an inch or two but soon, as she sought to increase the pleasurable friction, she was sliding over my whole face.
She started each traverse on the brow of my head and then moved up over my nose, crushing it painfully in the process, before grinding her clitoris onto my chin. She quickly found a rhythm but the encumbrance of the sleeping mask, which she was threatening to dislodge, meant that it was not as metronomic as usual.
She knew that there was a danger of causing some permanent harm if she was not careful but, once before, she had lost control in her pursuit of pleasure and I feared that it was about to happen again. Fortunately, her frustration got the better of her. She pushed the mask off altogether and began to ride my face in more familiar fashion.
I should have closed my eyes and endured but some warped fascination made me watch as the pink meat of her sex, ever more open, came into view again and again slicked with a mixture of lubricant and her own secretions.
There was no way to tell when she was close. Now, as before, she simply came to a sudden, shuddering stop, working her clitoris against whichever protuberance offered itself. This time she came whilst poised uneasily on my forehead where her spending mixed with perspiration ran down to sting my eyes.
She got up at once, for this was only the prelude, and slipped the mask back over my eyes. Now that I was blinded again she straddled my face once more and demanded my tongue. The frenzy of her first orgasm was slow to abate and she could be brought to a second, more leisurely, climax without a break.
My face was red with the friction of her exertions and the heat of her was painful as she settled again just above my mouth but it was a good while before I could entice her to come again.
On rare occasions she might demand a third orgasm but I sensed that this was not such a day. Her second climax had been deep and fulfilling as evidenced by the drenched state of my face and she was slow to rise.
I was anxious now to know what she had to say to me but she made no move to release my restraints. I strained my ears, trying to follow her movements, but then I was taken by surprise. She was back on the bed and making ready once more.
For a moment I contemplated a protest but it would have done me no good. I simply resigned myself to my fate as she moved up over my face, but something was not right. I sensed her weight coming down but then my mouth was filled with a sodden mess of pubic hair.
I tried to turn my head away but this stranger was both very aroused and very insistent. She used her thighs to keep me in place and the prominence of her sex kept my mouth open. I indignantly refused to lick but fingers pinched my nose close and the message was clear.
"Don't be a spoilsport. She's already seen what you can do. She wants you to make her come."
Claire's voice, close by, took me unawares. I wanted to know what the hell was going on but I could not speak. Who was this woman? The fact that Claire had the temerity to introduce someone else to our arrangement without my consent was bad enough but what if this was someone I knew?
One thing was for sure I was not going to be in a position to ask questions until I had done what was wanted of me and so, reluctantly, I put out my tongue. Instantly, she relaxed her grip around my head but I knew that the pressure could be reapplied just as quickly.
It seemed to me that the woman was a little lighter than Claire but the only other thing I could discern was the lush growth through which I now probed with my tongue. I wanted to make her break her silence so that I could gather more clues but she displayed remarkable self control as I brought all my oral skills into play. As I continued to listen Claire spoke once again.
"Do you want to hear my news? Andre has asked me to marry him."
I was shocked and I stopped what I was doing but a quick squeeze of the head was a clear instruction to continue. As I resumed my duty I weighed up Claire's bombshell. She had only been seeing the Frenchman for a few months and I did not have her down as the marrying kind.
"You see, in a way, you've been my inspiration. Andre is besotted but he found it hard to overcome his reluctance to go down on me. In the end the solution was simple. I tied him down, just where you are now, I even used the same restraints.
At first he hated it but I did not give him any choice. Now he cannot get enough.
So now I have everything I want. We'll be married next month and then we are going to set up home in America."
My immediate reaction was a sense of relief. If Claire was really leaving then I had the chance of a fresh start but as soon as the thought was formed I felt a despairing emptiness.
"The question is what will happen to you? I still hope to use you from time to time, in fact you can count on it, but what in the meanwhile?"
As Claire spoke the woman was becoming more aroused. She was pressing down on me, demanding, and I licked deeper sensing the onset of her climax.
"I did a little research and, by an amazing coincidence of wants, I found someone who needs somewhere to live in London for the next two years. So, I have a tenant for the flat, and you have a new object of desire."
With that the woman uncurled her legs and stretched them wide leaving me to bear her whole weight on my face as she ground out an orgasm that seemed to have no end.
For a few seconds I blacked out but, thankfully, once I was again compos mentis, she had resumed her previous stance.
I breathed deeply thinking more clearly with every breath and by the time she turned around, inviting me to lick between her cheeks, I knew who it was...