5 comments/  84968 views/  25 favorites

Sara's Story Ch. 01

By: obbity



Ch. 1: Capture

The clock on the wall told the man it was 3am. He should have been tired, but he wasn't; the naked woman on the table in front of him kept his attention focused. Never mind that she was drugged and unconscious, she represented a year of his life. He felt like he knew the woman, even though they had never had so much as a single conversation. Still, he knew her better than most people did. She was a social creature, the alpha female of every circle she ran in. She also, and he found this most intriguing, carefully compartmentalized her life. She socialized with no one from work. Those she played softball with were not in her economic or social bracket, and beyond the casual sexual liaison, never socialized with them, either. Only her inner circle of friends got close to her true nature, but even they did not see all the little pieces of the picture. He did, however. 

But now, as he sat there and watched the object of his obsession slowly regaining consciousness, he wondered if he had done the right thing, made the right decisions. Not that he was concerned about the moral and legal implications of drugging and kidnapping a woman for one's own sexual amusement, mind you. Those considerations never crossed his mind. No, he simply wondered if this was the right woman. She was beautiful, that he could not deny. If he had a type (personally, he hated the phrase,) it would be those women who fell under the category of voluptuous. He liked hair, no matter the color so long as it was long and full. He liked curves, round hips and firm buttocks and large ample breasts. This woman, while by no means skinny, was hardly what one would call curvaceous. He knew from observation that she exercised five times a week. He had no doubt that if he dropped a quarter on her stomach it would bounce. Her breasts, though hardly small, seemed to be immune to the natural pull gravity exerted on them. At first he was convinced they were augmented, a fact which if true, would have run contrary to her nature, but now he knew the truth: they were supported underneath by a healthy layer of muscle, and like their owner, defiant of gravity or any other law imposed upon them. He considered her limbs: lithe, the muscle tone well-defined with little hint of the softness he so adored in womankind. Yet her hands and feet were well manicured and soft, the color of her fingernails so purple they were almost black. Her toes, on the other hand, each had its own bright color, and several were adorned with rings. He turned his attention from one end of her to the other. The blond mop on her head was always cut short. During the day it was trim and professional, at night buoyant and playful. She had a boyish grin that was at the same time strong and delicate, but the set of her jaw portrayed only one attribute: defiance. That was the attribute that most worried him, but it was also the one he found most alluring. 

... 

Sara Kierson sat at the bottom of the pool. Not the grown-up, adult Sara, but the ten-year old Sara in her favorite bright orange two-piece. She remembered the game she played with her friends: they would jump in the deep end and sink to the bottom, a trail of bubbles flowing from their mouths as they sank. Once they reached the floor of the pool, all the air from their lungs expelled, they would count down from ten with their fingers. The last one to swim to the top won. Sara never lost. 

Sara sat at the bottom of the pool, her legs jutting out in front of her. Her friends were gone, and she was alone. She looked around. It must've been night, because the pool lights were on, and she loved the way the shadows danced across the floor of the pool at nighttime. She realized her lungs weren't burning, weren't screaming for air the way they did when she played the game. She had no reason at all to leave the bottom, except for curiosity's sake. Even at night she could see outside, beyond the surface of the waters, the lights around the pool, people moving around, even the moon when it was bright. But now she could see nothing, not even the edge of the pool. It was as if someone had laid a thick, black blanket right over top of the water. It frightened her, but it also sparked her curiosity. She had to see, to know what lay just beyond the blackness over the waters. She kicked off the bottom of the pool, and shot through the water like a dart, erupting from the surface with a gasp. 

Sara Kierson opened her eyes, and discovered she couldn't see. 

In that moment all the nerve endings in her body came to sudden and adrenaline-fired life, all of them screaming to her sleep-addled mind that something was terribly, terribly wrong. The skin of her back and thighs informed her she was naked and lying on a cold metal table. Her legs were spread-eagle and raised, like a gynecological table, she thought, but different. There were no stirrups for her feet, which dangled freely. She then realized she was bound; strapped to the table at the arms, shoulders, hips, thighs and calves She could feel pressure along the ridge of her nose that wrapped around the top of her face and enclosed her in a prison of blackness. 

I'm dreaming. This is a dream. Sara lied to herself. 

This is no dream, replied the voice in her head, and we're in trouble. The voice was usually comforting. Sardonic maybe, but comforting nonetheless. 

For a long time, Sara did nothing. She waited, expecting something, but that something didn't happen. She was fully aware now, no longer in denial of her situation. She told herself not to panic; she wasn't sure why, but the voice assured her that it wouldn't accomplish much, aside from attracting the attention of her captor. She studied her surroundings instead, employing those senses that had not been denied her by the straps and the blindfold. Someone had lit incense, not unlike the kind she burned at home. It had a clean, earthy smell that she found comforting. The air was cool. There was an oscillating fan nearby, and she felt its caress across her naked body in even, measured increments. Orchestral music was playing quietly in the background. She couldn't pinpoint the source, and so guessed it must be playing over some sort of surround sound system. She could hear nothing else. 

She tested her binds one at a time, searching for a weakness, but found none. Screw it, she thought, and threw all her might against them, screaming in her exertion, but the straps did not so much as budge. She realized then that the chair was made to deny leverage. That was why there were no stirrups, she couldn't use her feet to push against chair. She slumped back against the cool metal table. She was blindfolded, terrified and utterly exposed. Sweat flowed freely from her body. She felt the cool breeze of the oscillating fan from across the room. It chilled her, causing her skin to prickle and her nipples to harden, which made her feel even more exposed. Panic, like some feral beast, was clawing up her throat and threatened to consumer her. Her breath came in dry heaves. 

Well, that was pointless, observed the voice, why not try using your mind instead of your muscle? It's not like we're going anywhere. 

Someone had kidnapped her, that much was obvious, but who? She replayed the events of the past couple of days in her mind, but nothing out of the ordinary stood out. It was Sunday, or at least it was when she went to sleep, and Sunday was TV night. She recorded all her favorite shows throughout the week on Tivo, and Sunday night she watched them. Sometimes she had some girlfriends over, but not last night. She only had her cat for company. She remembered setting the alarm before she went to bed, but absolutely nothing stood out to her as strange. She just went to sleep in her own bed, and woke up here, wherever here was. She thought back even further, days, weeks, searching for a face or encounter that stood out as odd or unsettling. Again, nothing. She had not even the slightest idea who might do this to her. 

God, I hope this isn't something like Hostel or Son of Sam or the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Didn't that guy use incense or something to hide the smell in Seven? 

Maybe slasher flicks aren't the best thing to dwell on at a time like this, suggested the voice. 

She forced herself to remain calm. Remembering yoga classes from a couple of years ago, she steadied her breathing and centered her mind. For the first time she realized she was thirsty, terribly thirsty, as if she hadn't had a sip of water in days. Or perhaps, the voice in her head suggested, because you were drugged. 

Reflexively, Sara licked her lips. 

Seconds later she felt something touch her lips, and she quickly snatched her head away, her heart beating in her chest and pounding in her ears. 

Just moments before Sara had mistakenly believed that she couldn't possibly feel more vulnerable, more exposed than she was, now she knew she was wrong. Whereas before she only suspected someone could be watching her, now she could no longer take comfort in denial: someone was watching her, that person was right next to her and had been all along. She felt the panic rising once again in her throat and tears welling up in her covered eyes. She looked deep inside herself for the strength to maintain her composure, and she found it. 

Again, something touched her lips. This time her fear-heightened senses informed her that the thing touching her lips was a drink straw. 

"No thanks," was all she could manage before she heard the slightest quiver in her voice start to betray her fear. Her heart was racing, but she had to remain calm. 

"It's ice water," a male voice replied. The voice was calm, relaxed, soothing. The man had an accent that Sara couldn't place, but he sounded older rather than younger. 

"Why don't you let me go instead, and I'll get a drink myself?" she suggested helpfully. 

The man chuckled. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Ms. Kierson." 

He knows my name, Sara thought, which unnerved her all the more.

Of course he does, idiot, the voice replied. He's probably one of those stalker types, been following us for God knows how long. At least he doesn't sound Dutch. 

The straw touched her lips a third time, interrupting her internal debate. "Please?" he asked. "It's just water, promise." 

"How am I supposed to know that?" Sara replied as she turned her head. 

"Because I've already drugged you once, Sara, why would I do so again? Besides, if I wanted to drug you, what makes you think I'd do so in a manner you could so easily refuse? Drink. It's perfectly safe." 

Whoever he was, Sara couldn't argue with his logic. And she was very thirsty. Tentatively, she took a sip. It was water, ice cold water at that. She took more, all she wanted. When she finished, he took the glass away and Sara could barely make out the sound of it being set on a table somewhere to her left. Silence followed. Minutes passed, the man seemed content to sit and watch. 

There were certain questions Sara desperately wanted to ask, but was too afraid of the answers to ask them. Still, she felt the strong urge to hear the man speak again. He was, after all, her only link to the world around her, and his voice was better than blind silence. 

"How'd you do it?" she asked, finally. 

"I can't reveal trade secrets, but it should suffice to say that you were sedated, taken from your bed and brought here." 

"How long have I been out?" 

"Not long." 

"What are you going to do to me?" 

In response, she felt the back of a finger caress her right calf. He's been waiting for you to ask that, said the voice. Instinctively she wanted to jerk away, but she knew she couldn't, so she forced herself to remain calm and still. 

"Don't do that." she ordered, mustering up all the authority she could. Considering her current predicament, it wasn't much. 

The finger slid down her calf and ran a circle around her ankle before it rounded her heel and began to caress the bottom of her foot. 

"Stop it," she said. "You don't have the right to touch me. Let me go and...I won't tell anyone." 

The man ignored her proposition. "Right?" he said, "Sara, there's no such thing as right. You know that." The finger was now inspecting her toes, one at a time. 

"Why me?" she asked. She was desperate and terribly afraid, but refused to yield to the urge to cry. 

The finger now sped back up her calf and down to her inner thigh, where it began a long lazy route that started above her knee and ended just above the place where her legs came together. The affect was both electrifying and frightening. "Funny you should ask, I was pondering that myself just before you woke up. Truth is, I'm not sure. You certainly aren't typical of my prey." 

That last word frightened her very much. She wanted to scream, to curse, to flail her body until he finally just got tired of it, but she knew it would be useless. He'd just wait until she wore herself out and start again. It's all about control with men like this, the voice informed her. Don't let him see you lose it. 

"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked matter-of-factly. The finger now moved up to her stomach and began to draw a casual line across the boundary made by her pubic hair. 

"I'm not a violent man, Sara, as long as you're very careful to do exactly as I say." 

He continued to casually explore her body; she did her best to ignore him. His finger ran circles around her belly-button before tracing the outline of her breasts. Each nipple, in turn, was subjected to his scrutiny. Both responded, despite her best efforts otherwise. In fact her whole body began to respond to the gentle enchantment woven by his one finger. He discovered the nape of her neck, then her ears before finally he softy drew his fingers across her lips. She turned away from him then, what part of her face not covered by the mask she wore bright with shame and embarrassment. 

"At least tell me your name," she whispered, now desperate to hear him speak again. 

The finger withdrew. 

It was a few seconds before he spoke. When he did, the sound of his voice came, not from her right, but from between her legs. 

"Michael," he said, right before he planted a soft kiss on the outer lips of her vulva. 

Every muscle in her body went taut. She tried to draw away, heedless of the straps, but couldn't, there was no escape for her. 

"Michael. Please, stop." she said. "Don't do this to me." There was the slightest quiver in her voice, the first fracture of her composure. 

Michael ignored her, choosing instead to plant delicate kisses on the tender flesh of her inner thighs. 

"Michael, please. You're raping me." She reminded him. 

He lifted up his head and rested his chin on her pelvis. "Yes, I suppose I am. But you are not in a position to stop me, so I suggest you relax. I just want a taste, that's all." 

At that, fear changed to fury. Sara was always in control. It was a point of pride. No one ever did anything to her without her consent, not if they didn't want to leave bleeding. Yet here she was, bound and helpless and completely at the mercy of this man's whim. He wanted to eat her out, and so he was. What was he going to want to do to her next? And so despite the futility of it, she continued to fight against her restraints. Futile or not, it was the only thing she had the power to do. 

Ignoring her struggles, Michael tenderly spread her labia apart and slowly began to explore the treasures he discovered with his tongue. Sara forced herself to remain calm. Struggling was useless, words were useless. This man might take her body, but she would not bow to his will. She focused her mind, set her teeth and waited for him to do whatever he was going to do. Her body went rigid, but she no longer fought the straps. 

Minutes passed. Slowly but steadily the pressure and speed of his movements increased. Sara tried to keep her mind focused on anything other than what was going on between her legs; old movies, college algebra, bad poetry. But the occasional flick of his tongue across her clitoris kept drawing her back to the here and now. He teased her, exploring the wet lips of her labia or circling the entrance to her vagina, allowing her to regain some measure of control before drawing her back again with that dammed tongue. 

She slipped closer to that edge, and she knew it. He wanted her to orgasm, to take from her that last thing she could control. Her will was slowly crumbling under the relentless assault. It became harder and harder for her to maintain her composure. She realized her hips were making those involuntary, reciprocate movements that mirrored the rhythm created by his tongue; she tried to force her body to obey, to ignore, but it was quickly becoming too late. It's only a matter of time now, said the voice, he's gonna make you come, and you can't stop him. 

No! Sara screamed so fiercely at the voice in her head she wasn't quite sure if she said it out loud or to herself. Not that she cared, she had a plan. Quickly, before she lost all control, she arched her back, tensed her thighs and let out a long, soft moan, somewhere between a purr and a growl. She slumped back down on the table, feigning exhaustion, and let out a long sigh. 

From between her legs she heard Michael laugh. 

"Bravo, Sara, bravo! A fine performance," he said. "A lesser man may have been fooled, but I am right here. You may lie, but the little lady down here doesn't." He then continued his slow assault of her clitoris. 

Sara laid her head back down on the table. Frustration quickly descending to desperation. In high school and college she had been an aggressive woman, patiently teaching the men in her bed what she liked and the best way to get her where she wanted to go, and almost to a man they just didn't get it. Most treated her clit like it was some sort of speedbag, one guy sucked on it so hard she yelped in pain. Of course, he took it as a sign she liked that sort of thing and sucked even harder. It hurt to piss for a week after that. Now she was trapped by a man who knew exactly what to do, but the last thing she wanted was give in. But nature was taking its course. Her body was responding, the tension was rising, and she was close. Her nipples were stiff and ached to be touched; the wetness between her legs was no longer his, but her own, flowing freely and being hungrily devoured. Her vagina was throbbing, begging for penetration; if he put one finger in her she'd come, and she knew it. 

She didn't want to come. She didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing that even in this he controlled her. 

The anger crested into fury, and in a moment of clarity she knew what she had to do. The thought repulsed her, but it had to be done; she released the contents of her bladder. She pushed the fluid from her body in a hot, powerful stream. She heard it hit the back of his throat, heard him cough, sputter and choke on her urine. The stream hit his face as he pulled away from her, and the ricochet of it off his forehead described a spray pattern across her thighs and stomach. The man slipped off the stool he was sitting on and with a thud hit the floor. She could hear the muted splatter of her piss as it hit his clothing and then the tiled floor as he moved aside. She laughed aloud, rich and clear and triumphant. Didn't see that coming, did you, you bastard? 

"How'd you like the taste of that," she asked, still chuckling. He said nothing in reply 

Sara could hear the man rising to his feet. Every muscle in her body tensed, waiting for whatever was to come next, but the smile, her victorious, coy smile, did not fade. Suddenly she could feel him standing next to her, over her. When he spoke, he was so close she could smell her piss on his breath, yet she did not flinch. 


Sara's Story Ch. 01



"That was uncivil, Sara." 

"And what you're doing to me isn't?" she shot back, defiant, no trace of humor in her voice. 

"For this, I will have to punish you. I didn't want to, but you leave me no choice." 

"Or, how 'bout this: why don't you go fuck yourself instead?" In response all she heard was the pop of a latch, and the opening and closing of a door. She was left in silence. 

She didn't know how long she waited, time was meaningless to her, but it was half an hour at least. The muscles in her legs and arms began to ache from the cursed straps. She tried to calm herself, steel her resolve for the next round, come what may. Gradually her heart rate slowed, her breathing began to steady. The throbbing between her legs subsided until only the wetness remained. The wetness, and the dread of what he would do to her when he came back. 

You shouldn't have done that, the voice chided her. It's not like he was hurting you, it continued, now he's angry. What if he comes back with a knife? Did you think about that before you pissed in his face? 

He has no right to touch me, she told the voice in her head, besides, he's going to kill me anyway. That's how these things always end, isn't it? 

Before the voice could answer, Sara heard the pop of the latch and the door opened. The man made no sound as he entered, and she found that she desperately wanted to hear him speak...to gauge his mood by the tone of his voice, but her pride would not let her be the first to break the silence. His footsteps stopped at the end of the table, where her feet still dangled uselessly and her privates were exposed for anyone to see. She had never, in all her life, felt so exposed and vulnerable as she did at this moment. She wanted to cry, but refused to give in to it. 

She heard him shuffling around, heard things being laid out and arranged on a table. Implements of torture, perhaps? wondered the voice. He turned on a faucet and filled a bucket. She then realized that he was cleaning the floor. He worked his way steadily towards her until he was standing right at the end of the table. She then heard water sloshing in a bucket followed by silence. She waited, ears straining for the next sound, and heard nothing. After a minute or two she again heard him standing next to her. She heard the sound of a bowl set on a table, and water being squeezed from a towel, but still, when the warm wet towel touched her thigh she yelped in surprise, eliciting a chuckle from him that she found comforting. He cleaned her. First her thighs and stomach, then her privates, even down the slit of her ass where her urine had dribbled and pooled on the seat. When he was finished, she heard him wash his hands at some faucet on the far side of the room and walk back over to her. 

"Any more tricks, Sara?" he asked, resuming his post on the stool. 

Through clenched teeth she replied: "I'm just full of surprises, you son of a bitch." 

Every nerve of her body was on edge. Deprived of her sight, her other senses were on high alert. So when the man between her legs leaned forward and, without touching her at all, gently blew across her privates, every nerve ending in her entire body ignited. The battle had begun again, and she was already losing. But if the main battleground before had been her clitoris, now it seemed to be anything but. First he started gingerly sucking the outer lips of her vulva, drawing blood into her privates. He drew circles around the entrance of her vagina with his tongue and danced around her clitoris. The effect was intoxicating, the need urgent. Again her nipples constricted and begged for touch. The throbbing between her legs returned with a vengeance. She could feel the heat building in her vagina. and that wellspring opened and flowed. She had no weapons left, no tricks up her sleeve. She was bound and naked and completely exposed to his trepidations, and she was too tired to resist any longer. 

But now he would not let her come. Time and again he would bring her to the edge of oblivion, only to let her slip back, to deny her clitoris that one slight flick that would send her into ecstasy. Despite the straps, her hips moved involuntarily with every caress, her body became slick with the sweat of her exertions, and still he held her back. Her breathing was heavy, every muscle strained and tense. She was his. Sara no longer felt the straps that bound her, or the stiffness in her muscles from the restraints. The chair, the blindfold, even the fear, it all slipped away as her complete reality became the gentle stroke of a tongue. 

"Oh, god" she cried softly. 

In that moment, he pursed his lips around her clitoris and began to suck, all the while flicking forcefully with his tongue. She didn't slip into orgasm. She was fired like a rocket into it. The sound of her pleasure wasn't the soft purr or growl of a kitten. It was feral, guttural, and full of hunger. Waves of pleasure swept over her, and she was carried away. Again and again he brought her back to that pinnacle until finally exhausted, she stopped coming. Her entire body went slack and her breath came in gulps. Only then did he stop. 

Sara drifted back down to reality, and shame was waiting for her. He had done it, she thought. He had taken from her what she had refused to give, and worst of all, her vagina still throbbed, still ached to be touched. He stood and rested his hands on the balls of her feet. She could feel him looking down at her, and she knew how she must look to him. Her cheeks were flushed, her nipples hard. There was a sheen of sweat on her stomach and chest, and on her upper lip. Her legs were spread and her labia open and ready. Even though she couldn't see it, she knew her body, knew that her privates were now deep scarlet and engorged with blood. Her wetness had spilled over its boundary and run down the cheek of her bum. 

None of this could she hide from her captor. All of it was openly exposed to him, and he was taking it all in. 

"You are truly a paragon of your sex, Sara Kierson," he said. 

Her chin began to quiver and she turned her head away from him. This is it, she thought, now he's going to pull it out and rape me, and I'll hate him with every fiber of my being. 

But to her surprise, he didn't. Instead she felt him put thick leather straps on her ankles. Cuffs, she realized, or something like it. He walked around and put something similar on her left wrist. "I'm going to let you up now," he said. "but before I do you have to promise me you won't do anything foolish, and that you will do exactly as I say." 

Sara didn't reply, but set her jaw. The quivering of her chin stopped. 

"Sara," he persisted, "I'm not going to let you up until you promise me." 

"Alright, fine! I promise. I won't do anything stupid and I'll do what you say!" 

He released her arms, and cuffed them together. Instead of a chain, the cuffs were connected by a thin metal bar. He then undid the straps on the rest of her body. When he was finished, he carefully pulled her to her feet. 

She felt the cool tile floor, still damp from mopping, under her feet. Her limbs were stiff and sore, but it felt good to be standing on her own two feet. She thought about snatching off the mask that blinded her, but then thought the better of it. He had given her a little freedom, and she didn't want to lose it again so soon. 

"Are you going to take off the blindfold," she asked. 

"It time, Sara. You have to learn patience." 

He put an arm around her shoulder and slowly guided her out of the room and into a hallway. He was, of course, fully clothed. He was taller than she was, and she could feel the strength in is arms and chest. She considered for a moment trying to break away, trying to make a run for it, but she did not think she could even if she tried, not that she'd know where to go even if she succeeded in escaping his grasp. They took just a few steps before he stopped her again and opened another door. 

He led her several paces into the room. "Stand here, and don't move," he ordered. 

"Where are we?" she asked. 

"Patience," he reminded her. She heard a click, and felt the weight of a chain as he attached it to her cuffs. He was then at her ankles, where she heard him chaining them to the floor. Only then did he remove the mask that blinded her. She shut her eyes until they adjusted to the sudden brightness. When she opened them, her captor was standing just a few feet away next to the wall. He was dressed in a loose fitting black t-shirt and blue jeans. He wore a mask, not unlike a theatre mask, but the lower half of his face was exposed. He had a strong jaw, and was clean shaven. His black hair was shot through with gray. He was watching her intently. 

Doesn't look Dutch either, observed the voice. 

The room was no larger than her bedroom. There were no windows. A leather sofa sat along the wall to her left, and all along the walls there were paintings of nude women in various poses. She followed the chain from her cuffs up to the ceiling where it ran through a pulley and back down to the wall where he was standing. The chain was connected to some sort of hand winch, which he now began to ratchet. Slowly the chain began to lift towards the ceiling, and her along with it. She tried to resist, but it was useless. He was stronger and had the leverage. 

She looked at him. If his face betrayed any emotion, it was hidden by the mask. "What the hell are you doing now?" she demanded. 

"I'm punishing you, Sara. You were bad, remember?" 

Told ya, said the voice. 

"I was bad? I was bad!" She was incredulous. "You violated me! You raped me, Michael. I did the only thing I could to stop you. Why are you going to hurt me for that?" 

"Because you have to learn a very simple lesson. The rules outside these walls do not apply here, Sara Kierson. I make the rules. If you obey them, you will be rewarded. If you do not, you will be punished. What you did violated the rules, so you must be punished. It's that simple." 

Her hands were now above her head and steadily rising. 

"Michael, really, you don't have to do this. I didn't know the rules...I just reacted, that's all. Please. You got what you wanted. I came for you, didn't I? Why don't we just call it even? You don't have to do...whatever you're about to do." 

"There are certain things you have to understand, Sara. Disobedience is always punished, obedience is always rewarded. That is the first lesson." 

The chain continued to lift her, until just her toes touched the cool tile floor. He set the latch on the winch, and walked behind her, out of her vision. She struggled to see what was going on behind her, but with the chains on her ankles and her arms stretched over her head, she was unable. She could hear him setting things out on a table. 

Meat hooks? Razorblades? wondered the voice. 

"Michael, please don't." she begged. "At least tell me what you're going to do to me." She fought the chains for a peek. 

He stood directly behind her, close enough that she could smell her scent on his breath. He presented a riding crop, holding it up long enough for her to get a good long look at it. It didn't look friendly at all. 

"You're going to whip me?" She sounded almost relieved, at least it wasn't a meat hook. "Michael! I'm not some..." 

"Now would be a good time for you to stop speaking, Sara." 

She heard him shift his feet...assuming the posture, and heard the whip of the crop as he drew back. She clenched her rear and squeezed her eyes shut. Fire rippled across her backside as the crop struck her backside with a loud thwack. She jumped, despite herself, but didn't give him the pleasure of hearing her cry out. I can do this, I can do this, she reassured herself. "I can believe you're whipping me, you son of a bitch!" she yelled at him, furious. 

The blows continued in a steady, measured pace. Each time it became more difficult to hold back, to keep silent. 

It's just like eating chicken wings, noted the voice, each one gets hotter and hotter.  

And the voice was right. With each sting of the crop, the pain became more intense. She twisted and turned, desperate to evade the crop, but the hand on her hip held her steady. He focused his blows, not over her entire backside, but only on one area at a time. First on the tender round of flesh where her butt met her thighs. He then slowly moved upwards, exploring fresh territory and spreading the stinging pain. Even worse than the pain was the humiliation, the shame that stung much more intensely than the marks of the crop. By the time he reached the top of her rear, the entire area was throbbing and burning. She could feel the welts starting to rise. When he started again, almost without pause, on that tender, abused flesh, the pain became too much for her to handle and remain silent, and when she breached that silence, it was like a torrent. 

She screamed, she cursed, she hurled every insult she could think of at her tormentor, her face red with anger and humiliation, streaked with tears. But he did not abate. Instead, the more she cursed and flailed, the more he whipped her. When he reached the top, he started again at the bottom a third time. Finally, exhausted, she collapsed. Her feet gave out and she hung there limp and lifeless. 

"Please," she cried, "Please stop. I'll do anything. Just please stop." 

Only then did he relent. Her rump was bright red and criss-crossed with welts. To weak to stand, her full weight carried by the chain that bound her arms above her head. He set the riding crop down and walked back over to the winch. He let her gently down to the floor, where she cradled herself and sobbed quietly. Michael unlocked and removed the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, freeing her of all restraint, and set a box of tissues next to her. She did not move, but gathered her legs up in her arms and wept. 

He sat down in the center of the white leather couch. "Come here, Sara." 

She did not move. 

Michael took the crop and brought it down hard against the leather sofa with a loud crack. Sara rose with a start and stood near him, her eyes red and puffy and wet. 

"Good, now lay across me," he instructed. 

She did as she was told, lying face down on the sofa, with her backside across his lap. The position was awkward and embarrassing, but she no longer cared. The flesh on her butt still stung and throbbed, but the shame of it all was far greater. He was inspecting her, or rather, what he had done to her. She had no idea what he was going to do next, so she occupied herself by examining the artwork on the walls. They were originals, not prints, she decided, even though she hardly considered herself an expert. The women in the painting were all nude and very beautiful, but none of them looked like her. Where she was all angles and well-defined muscle, they were rounded and soft, large breasted and doe-faced. The kind of girls she liked, when she was into girls. 

Something cold and wet touched her backside and she jumped, but Michael steadied her with a hand on her shoulders. "It's just aloe," he said. "It'll make the pain stop." 

"How sweet of you," she replied sardonically. But even as she said it, the burning began to lessen. Her skin cooled and the pain lessened. The relief was almost immediate. 

"Better?" 

"Yes, a little," she had to admit. 

"What do you say?" 

Sara bit her lip. A million inappropriate responses threatened to spill out of her mouth and sentence her to another date with the riding crop. Miraculously, she controlled her tongue long enough to spit out a testy "Thank you." 

"I know you won't believe this, but I didn't want to do that. I don't want to hurt you, Sara." 

"Lemme guess, that hurt you more than it did me, right?" The tears were gone now, but her eyes were still red and swollen. 

"Not exactly, but it's not something I take pleasure in. All I ask is that you are obedient and do as I say. I won't hurt you." 

"I'm not sure what you think you know about me, but 'obedient' is not a word that is ever used to describe me." 

"I know. I studied you for a long time, Sara. You will be a challenge." 

She wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but let it go, for now. 

He continued to work the lotion into her tender flesh. She could smell the pleasant aroma of the aloe, and allowed herself to enjoy just a little bit the pleasant sensation of his caress. Her awareness began to drift. The man might be a monster, she decided, but he was good with his hands. She hardly noticed a different sort ache starting to grow inside her. Not from her welted rump, but the hungry, throbbing ache between her legs, the need for penetration. She felt wetness. Not that of her previous encounter, but new, hot. She didn't consciously open her legs, but ever so slightly she shifted, an invitation. 

He accepted. He didn't tease her or waste any time on the periphery. But his finger slipped inside her so easily, so effortlessly, that she was hardly aware of it at all, at least, consciously. He only put one finger inside of her, but he knew just how to use it: less like a penis, more like a massage. He didn't try to rush her or probe too deeply. She wasn't even sure if he was trying to bring her to orgasm or just explore her. 

He thumb slipped forward into the valley of her backside and began to massage her perineum, the finger and thumb moving in unison. She tensed. The last time anyone had ventured over to that part of her body, it had ended very, very badly... 

It was her first boyfriend. They were trying new things, experimenting, and this time he wanted to take her from behind. She got into position for him, and everything was going great. Then he tried to give her what she later learned was called the shocker. He jammed his thumb into her anus like it was some sort of ramrod. It's amazing how quickly she could go from completely turned on to completely pissed off. She kicked him off the back of the bed and he split his head on the corner of her dresser. That was the end of that, and to add insult to injury, he bled all over her favorite tee. Since that day, that other opening was strictly off limits. 

But this was different. He never penetrated, only massaged. Slowly, she relaxed again. The thumb complimented the finger and soon she drifted off again, utterly relaxed. Her orgasm came slowly, spreading from her privates like a low burning fire that warmed her whole body, right down to her toes. When it was over he rested the invading hand upon her thigh and with the other stroked her hair. She was so relaxed now she almost fell asleep. 

Minutes went by and not a word was passed between them. 

Finally, Sara broke the silence with a question that jumped to the forefront of her mind and ripped her from her half-dreaming. She remembered reading about some poor woman in the news who had been locked in a dungeon basement for years. She was terrified that he had a similar fate in mind for her. 

"How long are you going to keep me here, Michael? Please tell me you're not one of those types who will lock up a woman forever." 

Michael laughed, not a laugh of condescension but pure amusement. "Of course not, Sara. Our relationship will be less like a marriage and more like a casual summer fling. I can promise you that." 

"Oh," she said, and laid her head back down on the sofa. She was tired. Perhaps the drugs he used to sedate her were still having some affect on her, or perhaps it was just the stress of the situation, she didn't know. All she remembered after that was being carried, and then being laid in a soft, warm bed. 

Sara Kierson dreamed of the pool, and this time, her friends were there.



Sara's Story Ch. 02



Ch. 2: Revelations

The following day Sara awoke. With memories still clouded in the fog of sleep, she wasn't quite sure where she was. The events of the day before tumbled through her mind in a roller-coaster of images and emotions that she would have just as soon forgotten. She pulled the blanket over her head and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing that when she opened them again she would be safe and sound in her own bed. She was dismayed, not surprised, but dismayed nonetheless.

She studied the features of her new residence. Her temporary residence, she told herself. The room looked as if it was taken from an Ikea catalog. On either side of the comfy queen-sized be she lay in were nightstands. Along the far wall was a stereo system and racks of cds. To the right of the stereo was a doorway that opened to a bathroom where she could see a double sink and mirror. To the left of the stereo another doorway opened to a closet. On the wall to her right was a divan accompanied by a small end table and reading lamp. On the left wall was a writing desk and a large bookshelf overflowing with books and magazines. There were doors on both walls. The room was well lit and cool and had a fresh, pleasant odor. Michael had gone to great lengths to give it a homey feel, and excepting the lack of windows, he succeeded. Then she noticed the cameras. Inconspicuously placed and arranged so that they covered the entire room, she counted five in all. Sara wondered if he was watching her even now. Not until she sat up in bed did she spot the large mirror set in the wall behind the bed. No doubt a double mirror, she thought.

She shrugged, kicked the blanket off the bed and stood. The thick carpet felt good under her bare feet. She wrapped the sheet around her toga-style, her blond hair a tangled, chaotic mop. Another essential college skill put to practice in the real world, she thought.

She padded over to the sink. In the bathroom she found all the usual accoutrements, but what she found bizarre was how closely they matched the things in her own bathroom, right down to the brand names. It was all new, still in the wrappings.

Makeup? she thought. He thinks I'm actually going to wear makeup for him? She laughed at the thought and closed the drawer with a slam.

To her left she discovered another small room in which she found a toilet and bidet. There was a camera in the bathroom as well, but to her relief it pointed away from the toilet. She took her morning pee and after giving the bidet a second glance, decided to give it a try. She'd never used one before and curiosity got the better of her; it was an exhilarating way to start one's morning. Afterward, she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and moved back into the bedroom.

Next she went to the closet, hoping to find something to wear besides a sheet. What she found was lingerie. You've got to be freaking kidding me. Lingerie? That's not clothing, that's discomfort. Where's the sweats? the jeans and tees? the pj's and wool socks?

Get real, said the voice in her head, you don't really think he kidnapped you to watch you walk around in that funky Steeler's sweater you've had since college, do you?

"Dammit," she muttered aloud.

The closet offered two options: A pink, lace up chemise or a red corset with matching panties and lace stockings. Not a chance in hell, she thought, and walked back out into the bedroom.

Still wrapped in the sheet, she perused the bookshelf, hoping to find something to distract her for awhile. Then she heard Michael's voice coming from the speakers in the corners of the room, "Good afternoon, Sara. I trust you slept well?"

She resisted the urge to look at the cameras. "Could'a been better, I could be at home."

He chuckled. "In time, Sara, if you behave yourself. In the meantime, are you hungry yet?"

"A little," she said. She was starved.

"Good, I'll have breakfast ready for you in a few minutes. Before you eat, though, you have to do your chores."

The nearest camera received a withering glare. "Chores?"

"Make your bed. When you're done, go out the door to your left, make a left, and go through the door at the end of the hall. I'll have breakfast waiting for you."

With a grunt she turned and faced the bed. She was wearing the sheet, and wasn't about to put on lingerie, so she shook out the blanket and tucked in the pillows. Satisfied, she walked over to the door and gave it a tug. It didn't budge.

"Michael," she said to the camera, "you forgot to unlock the door."

"No I didn't," came the reply a minute later, "the job's only half-done, you forgot the sheet."

She stamped her foot in frustration. "If you wanted a bimbo, Michael, you got the wrong girl. I'm not playing dress up for you!"

"Well, this isn't about what you want, Sara, it's about what I want. You can stand there in the sheet 'till hell freezes over, but you're not getting breakfast or anything else until you put something on besides a sheet, or you can just go around naked, it's up to you. I make the rules here, Sara. The quicker you learn that the quicker you get to leave. Got it?"

Sara let out a sigh and leaned her forehead against the door. "Yeah, sure, I get it." She walked back over to the closet and let the sheet drop to the floor. She chose the corset and stockings over the chemise, based solely on the fact that it covered more flesh. After remaking the bed, she returned to the door. This time she noticed that the little LED next to the lock had gone from red to green. She gave the door a tug, it opened, and she stepped out into a hallway. There were several doors, but only two of them had green lights, one at the end of the hallway were he told her to go, and the other on the wall to the right of it. The door to the right opened to a large bathroom with a standing shower and jacuzzi sized tub. She walked down to the end of the hallway and went through the door.

She found herself standing in a large living room. There were doors on the opposing walls, and like the bedroom, plenty of cameras. There was a large couch, a table, and a very expensive entertainment center. In one corner of the room was a kitchenette. It seemed Michael had spared no expense in preparing this place. Mounted on the wall was a large flat-screen tv. Underneath was a dvd player, a stereo system, a playstation 3 and an xbox 360. How'd he know I was an avid gamer? she wondered.

Before she could fully take in this new expansion of her domain one of the other doors opened and Michael walked through. He was wearing a black neoprene mask that covered the upper half of his face, but besides that he looked much the same as she remembered from the night before, and a familiar lump of fear welled in her throat. If he sensed her trepidation, however, he gave no impression of it. He simply through the room and into the small kitchenette. "Breakfast is served. I hope you find it to your liking," he said as he laid the tray down on the table.

She did her best to appear calm and composed as she joined him at the table.

"You look lovely today, Sara," he said as he took the top off the platter. He had made her french toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and black coffee. It was one of her favorites, and it smelled delicious.

She said nothing while she ate, content to let him initiate any conversation. She didn't have to wait long. He asked her about everyday things, what her favorite movies were, what books she liked to read, what music she liked to listen to. Her replies were curt, and she was very careful to add nothing to them. On reflection she had to admit that it was perhaps the most surreal conversation she had ever had in her entire life. No one really imagines that they will one day be kidnapped, that their prison be more agreeably furnished than their own home, and be forced to wear lingerie and ponder with their captor whether Radiohead was the greatest band of the 90s.

Michael left after she finished eating and Sara once again found herself alone. She browsed the selection of dvds before flipping on the television to find a distraction. It was her third trip through the dial before she realized that all the local channels were blocked. Sneaky son of a bitch, she thought before popping a dvd into the player without bothering to look at the title. It was an old Bill Murray flick, the one were he relives the same day over and over to much comedic delight. It was one of her favorites. The irony caught her like a slap in the face just minutes into it. She turned off the tv and headed out into the hallway to explore. That's when she found the exercise room. It's not Bailey's, she thought as she looked around, but it'll do. There were two lockers, she opened them and to her delight found some decent clothes to wear: sneakers, socks, plain cotton panties, gym shorts and a sports bra. She stripped out of the lingerie - the cameras were getting easier and easier to ignore - cranked the stereo as loud as it would go and started with the elliptical. 

Thank the lord for Mastadon, quipped the voice.

She went through every machine he had. By the time she was finished, hours later, she was drenched with sweat. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the sense of empowerment she always got after a good, long workout, but she could feel the rage broiling inside her. She thought about her cat, her car payment, her job, her softball team, but most of all she thought about her mother and how much she'd worry about her. The punching bag did nothing to sate her anger, even though she pummeled it until her knuckles were split and bloody. She wanted it to be him, not the bag taking the blows from her fists and feet. Finally, exhausted, she snapped up a towel and went back to the living room.

"You need to shower," said Michael as she plopped down on the couch. "Go back into the hallway. It's the first door on your left."

"Piss off, Michael." she shot back, not bothering to direct her words at any single camera. "I'll shower when I feel like it, and I'll wear whatever the hell I want."

Minutes later a door swung open and Michael stormed in. He stood between her and the television and jammed a finger in her direction. "You'll do what I say, Sara Kierson, when I say it."

She leapt to her feet, her finger inches from the mask that covered his face. "Like hell I will, Michael. You don't own me. I'm through with this stupid game. Whatever it is in that sick little mind of yours that you think I'm going to do, whatever you think you're going to accomplish here, forget it," she spat. "I'm done with this. Let me go." Her face was now inches from his.

The muscles in his jaw quivered. His lips drew to a thin line. "How's your backside, Sara? Still sore? From the tone and posture I can only assume you want some more."

Hazel eyes narrowed and caught fire. Not. This. Time. Sara balled up her fist and swung, a perfectly executed upper-cut that connected just under the chin. Michael's head snapped back and he stumbled, turning his back to her. This is it, no going back now, she realized. Instinct took over. She fell into a boxer's stance: fists up, feet light and quick. She stepped into the next punch, a well-placed blow aimed for the kidneys that nearly sent him to his knees. Michael recovered quickly, though, stepping back into Sara's next swing and sent her stumbling sideways with a quick elbow to the shoulder.

He faced her, still rubbing his jaw, and assumed a defensive stance, shaking a crick out of his neck. C'mon, you sonofabitch, let's settle this, she thought. The dance began. They circled; again and again Sara darted in with a lightening quick strike, seeking to land a lucky blow. He deflected those punches aimed for his face, the others he shrugged off with a grunt. Sweat stung her eyes, her heart pounded. Already worn out from her earlier workout, she lacked the endurance of a drawn-out contest. He's wearing me down, she realized

He's got the strength, he's got the mass. All you had was surprise, and you blew it. Shoulda gone for the nose, not the chin, said the voice.

The dance continued. I've been working that left side, she thought, he's got to be feeling it. Maybe one solid hit can drop him. Sara moved in to finish him. This time she feinted with her fists before delivering a wicked kick to his side. But he anticipated the move and trapped her foot with his arm. Already off-balance, he sent her flying back with an open-palmed blow to the sternum. She landed on the couch in a heap.

Then it was over. She was spent. Her rage drained away and left her with fear. Now the beat down begins, said the voice. She sunk into the couch, threw her arms up over her face and waited for the blows to begin.

He stood over her, fists clinched. "Look at me. Look at me!" he shouted. "What do you think is going to happen to you if you knock this mask off, Sara? Did you think about that?"

She peeked over her arms and shook her head, dumfounded.

"You will never leave this place. Understand? I wear this mask for your protection, Sara, because if you can ever identify me, I'll never let you go. So think about that before you do something stupid."

"I-"

"Not a word, Sara." He held up a finger in warning. "I want you to listen. If you want to stay here, just keep it up. I promise you, I can wait longer than you can. If you want to leave, do as I say. Make it difficult for me, and I'll make it difficult for you. And believe me, I can make it very difficult for you, Sara. You're used to being in control, I understand that. But now you're not, so I suggest you get used to it. If you want control, then control your own actions. The sooner you give me what I want, the sooner you go back home!"

"I have no idea what you want, Michael," she said looking up at him, on the verge of tears. "how the hell am I supposed to give it to you?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," he said, and sat down on the couch beside her.

They sat there for several minutes in awkward silence. Sara looked at her captor. He just sat there, rubbing his jaw. Any other guy would have beat the hell out of me for that. Why didn't he?

He's not just any guy, he's a psycho. He's got other means, offered the voice.

"That's a mean right hook you've got there," he said. He then reached over and took her right hand, examining the split and bloody knuckles. "Next time you use the bag, wrap your hands. I'll give you some tape." She was dumbstruck.

"Why aren't you angry, what are you going to do?" she asked, taking her hand back and rubbing the knuckles in question.

"If the gym is going to cause this sort of reaction in you, I'm going to have to take it away. Control yourself in the future."

Minutes passed, both content to rest.

"You're going to whip me again, aren't you?" she finally asked with a sigh.

When he didn't answer immediately, Sara began to fear the answer was yes, but at last he said, "No. I'm going to send you to bed without your dinner. Now, go take a shower and go to your room."

Sara's mouth opened and closed several times, as if she were about to say something and then reconsidered. Finally she stood and walked back to the door.

"And Sara," he said, "leave the clothes here. You won't be needing them again tonight."

She hesitated, then obeyed, stripping off her clothes and leaving them in a neat pile by the door.

Sara showered and crawled into bed with a Mike Hammer novel she pulled off the shelf. She was about halfway through it when the door opened and Michael walked in. He was carrying a tray. "It's not much," he said as he set the tray down on the table next to the bed. On the tray was sliced cheese, sausage, apples, some crackers and an open bottle of red wine. "I didn't want you to go to sleep without any food at all. I hope you like it." he said.

Sara sat up, careful to cover herself with one hand while restoring order to the blond tangle on her head with the other. "Thanks, she said, "I'm starved. This looks great."

He stood there, as if in doubt of himself, saying nothing. She looked up at him with raised brows, the white sheet tucked under her arms, wondering what he might do next. "I'm leaving for a few hours," he said at last, "try not to destroy the place while I'm gone."

"I'll try to resist the temptation."

Michael nodded, started to speak, stopped himself, then turned and left the room.

...

Charlotte woke with a start. She was aware of her nakedness first. Charlotte never slept in the nude; papa always told her nakedness was a sin. She became aware of her strange surroundings only after she wrapped her legs up in her arms and curled into a ball. She was sitting on a cot in a small room that was not her bedroom. Besides the cot, which wasn't covered with a sheet she could use to clothe herself, there was nothing but a small sink in the far corner, a large mirror set in the wall facing her, and two doors on opposite walls. She also noticed cameras up in the corners of the room. They were staring down upon her naked flesh, recording her. Papa always told her that no one should ever look upon her while she was naked, except her husband when she married. She was very confused and alone and afraid. Charlotte began to cry.

She expected that at any moment some man would come in and do things to her that he ought not. Sinful things. She would try to fight, but Charlotte wasn't a strong girl, and she knew it. But as time went by, and no assailant burst into the room to take her innocence, Charlotte wiped away her tears and started to calm down a bit. Time continued to pass and Charlotte began to gain a little courage. What if her kidnapper had left? Maybe she could walk out and run for help. It would be a sin to go outside naked, but wouldn't it be more of sin to wait until her kidnapper came back?

With that, she decided to act. Charlotte had long, curly black hair that flowed past the middle of her back. She used her hair to cover her ample bosom and with her hand covered her forbidden place. She tried the first door, but it refused to open. She pushed on the second and it opened with a click. She peeked outside and saw a short hallway. With a great deal of trepidation, she stepped out into the hallway. The door swung shut behind her with another click, and as an afterthought, Charlotte tried to open it again. It was locked! Charlotte started to panic. There were so many doors, and someone could be hiding behind any one of them. Taking a deep breath, she stepped over to the first door and gave it a tug. Nothing. She tried the next, and then the one after that. She started to worry that they all were locked, that she'd stand here in the hallway until her kidnapper found her. The last door on the left, however, opened when she pulled it.

...

Though an empty wine bottle lay on the nightstand, Sara did not fail to wake when the door to her room opened. Light spilled in the dark room from the hallway and presented the silhouette of a head peeking into her room; a woman's head, Sara's muddled senses informed her. Curiosity quickly chased away the warm buzz of the wine. She waited. She could just hear the soft, quick breaths of this new stranger. She seemed to linger in the doorway, as if unsure what to do. Sara sat up in bed, covered herself and reached over and flicked on the light.

The woman gave a yelp of surprise and started to shut the door. Then her eyes fell upon Sara, and she hesitated. She was young, Sara thought, a teenager perhaps. Black hair framed a porcelain face, cheeks stained with tears and puffy, red eyes. Yet her face was an open page to Sara. First, shock, then fear, followed by indecision and lastly, hope.




Sara's Story Ch. 02



"C-can you h-help me?" the girl asked with a quivering chin. "Can you tell me wh-where I am?"

Sara considered the girl for a moment. Was she genuine? Was this some sort of game Michael was playing with her?

No, she realized, the fear is real. "Why don't you come in out of the hall?"

The girl did as she suggested and stepped into the room. The door closed behind her. She was naked as the day she was born. The girl stood nearly as tall as Sara, but where she was tan skin and muscle, she was alabaster curves. Hard, pink nipples peeked through her locks, denying the vain attempt of modesty. She took a step into the room then stopped, covering her privates with both hands. Her cheeks flushed with color as she stood in the space in front of the door. She looked lost, like a fawn looking for it's mother.

Hot damn, said the voice. "I'm sorry I can't offer you anything to wear, but you're welcome to share the blankets with me," offered Sara, adding, "It's better than nothing. As for where you are, I can't really say, except the same as me: in trouble."

The girl hesitated, frozen by indecision. For a second Sara thought the girl was going to bolt from the room. Then she darted toward the bed, almost at a run, as if someone were chasing her. Sara's gaze fell upon the perfect swaying bounce of the girl's breasts and had to force her eyes to look elsewhere. Sara moved over as the girl slid under the sheet and covered herself to the neck. She looked relieved, yet her fear was palpable. Sara felt pity for her.

"My name is Sara, Sara Kierson," she said with a calm, reassuring voice, "I...woke up here last night. I was kidnapped. I'm guessing you were too."

The girl nodded. "I-I was staying at a friend's house. Papa...he hardly ever lets me stay the night at Crissy's, but he did. We fell asleep in the same bed. I hope she's ok. Do you think so? My name's Charlotte, by the way."

"I'm sure she's fine. Look, I can't tell you much, like I said, I've only been here a day. The guy who kidnapped us, his name is Michael, or at least that's what he calls himself. Did you...did he do anything to you?"

Charlotte's eyes went wide as saucers and she shook her head "No, I never saw him, I just woke up in this room down the hall and found my way here. Will he give us any clothes? Papa says it's a sin to be naked unless you're taking a bath."

A sin? said the voice. Oh boy.

"Only, um, lingerie, and not at night. We have to sleep naked. Sorry." The girl looked crestfallen, and her eyes began to well up with tears, so Sara added, "But hey, we're both girls, right? So it's not a sin if we see each other."

She nodded, then looked at the cameras scattered about the room.

Uh-oh, thought Sara, she's gonna freak. She caught Charlotte's chin with her finger and stole her gaze away from the cameras. "We don't know he's watching us, Charlotte. Besides, it's not our fault, is it?" She put a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "I know you're scared, but it's going to be ok. We'll watch out for each other."

"Is he going to hurt us?"

Sara's thoughts went to the fight earlier in the day. "I don't think so. I don't think he's going to kill us or anything, but I don't know. He told me if I do what he says, he'll let me go, so we have to be smart, we have to stick together, ok? I know that's not very reassuring, but it's all I know."

The girl nodded. She inched over, bit by bit, until she was sitting right next to Sara, then she leaned over and cradled her head in her shoulder. Sara wrapped an arm around her and stroked her hair. "It'll be ok, Charlotte. I'll take care of you, I promise," she heard herself say. As she ran her fingers through Charlotte's flowing black hair and took in the scent of it, felt the warmth of her skin, the gentle heave and sigh of her chest, the presence of an undeniably beautiful woman in her bed, long-buried desires began to awaken in Sara.

It wasn't until her fist year of college that Sara discovered women, in that way. By her senior year, she was finished with men, or, rather, boys. She had a vibrator and a showerhead. What else did a girl need? She learned quickly enough that making out with another girl was a sure way to get free beer, but that was nothing. It wasn't until Maggie that she learned what life was like on the other side. Maggie was sexy in ways that Sara never even thought possible. Everything she did oozed sexuality, and once she had a taste, she couldn't get enough. It was Maggie who showed her what oral-sex was supposed to feel like, Maggie who showed her what to do with her g-spot, and, oh god, Maggie who put the two together and gave her that elusive pinnacle of the human sexual experience: simultaneous and multiple orgasms.

When Maggie left, she never really got over it. No other woman could come close, and she looked - she was worse than the guys - no girl on campus was safe. It wasn't until she graduated that she finally found peace in something familiar, something comfortable, the embrace of a man. She had closed a chapter in her life, or so she thought. At this moment she felt a stirring in her loins she had not felt since Maggie, and so even as she said the words, she knew she had ulterior motives.

Dammit, I'm bigger than this. 

Carefully so as not to disturb the girl weeping on her shoulder, she mouthed We-need-to-talk to the nearest camera.

Moments later, Michael responded over the speakers. "Welcome, Ms. Roy, to your new home. Sara is right, I have no intention of hurting either you or Ms. Kierson."

Charlotte's head shot up, she glanced nervously around the room and then back at Sara.

"Now, now," Michael continued, "don't be anxious. We won't be meeting face-to-face tonight, Charlotte. I actually need to speak with Sara for a few minutes in private. Sara, if you'll please adjourn to the living room."

Charlotte grabbed Sara's shoulder and squeezed. "Don't go, Sara, stay here. We'll be safe together."

Sara removed the girl's hand and held it in her own. "Charlotte, we have to do what he says. If we don't, he'll punish us. But don't worry, you'll be safe here, and I can take care of myself."

Charlotte started to protest, but Sara put a finger over her lips and slid out of bed. She wondered, as she crossed the room, if Charlotte was watching her the way she had watched her, but then cursed herself for the thought. She walked over to the closet, picked out a black chemise, one that reminded her of Marylin Monroe, and put it on.

In the living room, Michael was waiting for her.

"So this is your plan?" she asked as the door closed behind her.

"Whatsoever do you mean, Sara?"

She paced the floor between the tv and couch, heedless of his stare. "You want to watch a little girl-on-girl action, don't you?"

"Not in so many words."

Sara gave a cynical laugh and ran both hands through her blond hair. "I don't believe this. Men never change, do they?" she asked no one in particular. The she turned on her heel and stormed over to him. "Forget it, no way."

"Forget what, Sara?" Michael asked, bemused.

"Dammit, Michael, you know what," she shot back, jamming an accusatory finger at him. "I'm not fucking that girl for your enjoyment, you sick bastard. How old is she, anyway, huh? What high school did you steal her from?"

"Oh, she's legal. Just turned eighteen two months ago."

"She's a kid, Michael."

"Not in the eyes of the law, as if it matters. More to the point, Sara, that girl is your ticket home."

She paused as the import of those words hit her in the chest. "Are you saying that if I...sleep with her you'll set me free?"

Michael leaned back and stretched his arms across the couch. "That's what I'm saying, Sara. Both you and she go home. Not quite as simple as that, but that's the gist of it."

"Whaddya mean, the gist?"

The devil is in the details, warned the voice.

"It's simple, really. Everyday you will have a few objectives to accomplish, things that will bring you and her closer to that, ah, moment. Incrementally we can achieve the goal."

Sara's eyes narrowed. "Why the wait?"

Michael cocked a brow.

Those hazel eyes went wide with dawning comprehension. "She's not bi, is she? She's never been with a girl, has she?"

Michael shook his head in affirmation.

Sara turned and rubbed her temples. "I don't freaking believe this is happening to me. What if she just isn't into girls, Michael? I'm not going to force her; that's your specialty, not mine."

"Oh, I have the utmost confidence in your abilities, Sara. You can make a straight girl bi, can't you? That is your specialty."

How did he know that? I haven't been with a girl in almost four years!

The journals, theorized the voice, it's the only way he could have known. How else could he?

"I know you find her attractive," Michael continued, "I know she's your type, just like she's mine. It will be a challenge, and for more reasons that just her orientation, but that's why we're going to take this one day at a time. You can do this, Sara."

"I picked up on those 'reasons' already. A good, modest church-girl. Yeah, I figured that one out. Thanks."

"That's only part of it. I'll admit, I find the facade of modesty to be a very appealing thing, in this case, it's genuine, but that's not why I chose her. There's a reason it had to be a good church girl."

Sara's jaw dropped. "She's...she's a virgin?"

Michael nodded.

"No, Michael," she backed away from him. "You can't make me do this. A virgin? I can't, I won't! You're going to screw her up, and I want no part of it!" Sara felt trapped, like an animal; she felt helpless, adrift. Her face flushed with raw anger and emotion. "You have no right to-"

"We've been over this, Sara," Michael interrupted. "'right' is irrelevant here." He stood; she backed away even further, against the wall and inched toward the door. "Think about this, Sara: If you don't, I will, and you will watch. How screwed up will she be then, huh? You have the chance to make it gentle, kind, to make it as right as it can be. Think about that, Sara Kierson." She darted from the room and fled into the hallway.

Sara stood for a long time in the hallway, trying to gain her composure, trying to sort through her emotions and feelings and make sense of the whole situation. By the time Sara returned to her bedroom, Charlotte Roy was already fast asleep. Sara stripped off her clothes, got into bed and turned her back on the sleeping woman, wanting to be alone with her thoughts.

A hand rested upon her shoulder. "Sara," asked a voice fraught with concern, "are you ok, did he do anything bad to you?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Charlotte. He didn't touch me. Now go to sleep."

"That's good. I prayed for you until I fell asleep. I'm sorry. I wanted to stay awake until you came back, but I was so tired."

"Don't worry about it, Charlotte, I'm fine, really. Now get some rest." Sara laid a reassuring hand on Charlotte's.

"Sara?"

Sara laid over on her back and faced the girl. Even in the amber twilight of the stereo's LEDs, she was striking. "Yes?"

"I've been thinking about what you said, about how we need to stick together to get through this, and you're right. From the moment I saw you I knew you were someone I could trust. I'm sorry that he kidnapped you, but I'm glad you're here with me. I couldn't bear it alone. Does that make sense?"

"Sure...yes."

"So, I guess what I'm saying is that I'll do whatever it takes for us to get out of this. Together. Maybe this was meant to be. Maybe we were meant to be here so we could be friends."

"Maybe it was - that would be nice. We're going to need to be strong, Charlotte. I know you can do it."

Charlotte smiled. "Goodnight, Sara."

"Goodnight, Charlotte."

Charlotte slid over and laid her head upon Sara's shoulder. Sara wrapped an arm around her and gently stroked her hair. In minutes, she was again fast asleep.

The sleep of the pure, observed the voice.

Sara couldn't help but feel the warmth of her breast against her side, and felt that old, once-forgotten tingle. It always was about chase, wasn't it? Damn. How does he know me so well?

It was a long time before Sara fell asleep. When she did, she dreamed of Maggie.



Sara's Story Ch. 03



[Author's notes: I'd like to thank Inkstaine for her help in editing this story. She helped with chapters 1 & 2 as well, but because I am dense, and lack the ability to follow simple instructions, I failed to give her proper credit. So, please join me and thanking her for her valuable support. 

Everyone depicted in this story is above the legal age of consent. 

Enjoy the story. Comments and criticisms are welcome.]

Tuesday

Sara lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. It was now 7:30. In the quiet peace of the morning, in early darkness, the indistinct shapes that made up the contours of the room could easily be mistaken for her own things. She could almost convince herself that she was home, that she was about to begin an ordinary Tuesday with all of the ordinary stresses and concerns that seem so minuscule and remote now. Yet there was a warm body in her bed, snuggled close to her own. A pale face framed in black curls nuzzling her neck. A soft had tightly holding her own. Charlotte's hand had never been far from her. Early during the night it sought Sara out. Each time she turned or shifted, the hand soon returned to its new found refuge.

Sara's gaze went to the girl, to the ceiling, and back to the girl again. That girl is your ticket home, Michael had said. Home. Can I do this? She's a church girl. A virgin. Straight as the come. Even if I can, could I live with myself after? At least she's hot, said the voice. Sara squeezed her eyes shut until she forced the image of Charlotte standing naked in front of the door - afraid and alone and so very, very exposed - from her mind. Charlotte shifted, let out a gentle sigh and squeezed her hand. Maybe I can talk him out of it. He can take it out in trade, me for her. My god, she's just a kid! But a hot kid, the voice reminded her.

Sara ignored the voice in her head, opting instead to let go the hand in question and slide out from underneath the sheets. She didn't glance at the cameras as she crossed the room, naked as the day she was born, to begin her morning routine in the bathroom. After washing the sleep from her eyes, she crept back into the bedroom, where Charlotte still slept. Sara took a pillow from the bed, removed the case, and laid it on the floor. She then sat on it, hooked her feet under the bed frame, and started doing sit ups. She counted under her breath as quietly as she could, until she hit the count of one hundred and fifty. She took a minute to catch her breath before she sat up, rolled onto her stomach, and started counting out push-ups. She paused at the top of number forty-eight and blew damp hair from her face. "I think I have enough people watching me as it is," she said.

Charlotte laughed, her head poking through the sheets at the foot of the bed. "I can barely do ten, at least the right way," she said. "You make it look so easy."

"It is easy. You just push against the ground."

More laughter. "It is not!" Her eyes darted to the video cameras. "Aren't you worried that he's going to see you?" 

Sara sat up and brought her knees to her chest. "Sorry I woke you up, I didn't mean to. But to answer your question, I guess I just don't care. Maybe you should try it. It's liberating," she said with a shrug.

"Oh no, Sara," said Charlotte, shaking her head furiously. "I could never...it's too embarrassing! No one has ever seen me naked except my mom and sisters Well, until yesterday. Now you have, and I guess he has too." She drew the sheet around her face so that only a few stray curls managed to escape.

Sara wiped her brow. "Charlotte, you're going to have to come out from under those sheets, and sooner rather than later. Are you going to be able to handle that?" she asked.

Charlotte chewed her lip. After a long minute, she said, "Papa always says that nakedness is a sin. He says that people who willfully commit sins will go to hell. Last night I was trying to get away, so I thought it would be okay to be naked until I found some clothes. Now, I don't know if I can just choose to be naked in front of a man that isn't my husband."

Sara stood, put her hands on her hips, and looked down at her. "Look at me," she said.

Charlotte's eyes darted about the room, resting upon anything that wasn't Sara's body. She stared at the floor, then at Sara's feet, and then she took in the entire scope of Sara's body, accepting the other woman's state.

"Do you think I'm going to go to hell because I'm not wearing any clothes right now?" Sara asked.

A pause. Then Charlotte shook her head.

"Take my hand," said Sara.

Charlotte took the offered hand and let Sara pull her out of bed. The two girls stood faced each other. Charlotte's face blossomed to bright red. Still holding Charlotte's hand, Sara led her to the closet. "The good news is you won't be completely naked. The bad news is you won't exactly be modest, either."

After a moment spent perusing the closet, the dismay on Charlotte's face was plain. "I can't wear this!" she said, holding up a black lace catsuit. "It doesn't cover my bosom or my forbidden place!"

"Your what?"

"You know," Charlotte said, pointing to the black forest between her legs.

Sara rubbed her temples. "Why do you call it your forbidden place, Charlotte? Is it like the Forbidden Palace or something?"

"Momma says that no one can see or touch my forbidden place until I'm married."

"What about the doctor?"

Charlotte shook her head.

"Okay, what about you? You can touch your uh...forbidden place, right?"

Again Charlotte shook her head.

Sara sighed. "Okay, hold on a sec. What about tampons? You have to touch yourself to put them in."

"Oh no," Charlotte shook her head vigorously, "Momma says that tampons are like the devil's little fingers and-"

Sara laughed. "I'm sorry!" she said between guffaws, "The devil's little fingers? You don't really believe that, do you?"

First, a look of deep offense, then, a hesitant smile. "I guess it does sound pretty silly, doesn't it?"

Sara held a curled finger to her lip to prevent another eruption of laughter from slipping out and nodded. Charlotte stared at her feet and blushed. "I'm sorry, Sara, I'm just not used to these things. I never went to public school, my folks wouldn't let me. They said it was bad and I don't want to go to hell. I didn't have a lot of friends growing up, just some girls from church. "

Sara caught the girls chin with her finger and locked eyes. "Charlotte, it's okay. I'm sorry I laughed, I wasn't making fun of you. I just never heard of anything like this before." She stepped back so Charlotte could better see her entire body. "These," she said with a gesture, "are tits. You can call them cans or melons or cha-chas or hooters or whatever you like, just don't call 'em bosoms unless you're trying out for a Jane Austen play or something."

Charlotte let slip an awkward chuckle, "A what?"

"Never mind, not important," said Sara with a quick wave, continuing the presentation of her body. "This is called a vagina, Charlotte. It's not a forbidden place...unless you're on your period." Another laugh. "But you can call it your pussy, or your muffin, or whatever you want. The point is that it's part of your body, and you're not going to hell if you touch it. God gave you a great body, Charlotte. You're beautiful, you should be proud of it, not ashamed."

Charlotte clasped fidgeting hands in front of her and made lines in the carpet with her toe. "You think I'm beautiful?" she asked.

Sara put her hands on the girls shoulders. "Charlotte, you are gorgeous, women would kill for your hair, not to mention your body."

Charlotte looked up at her with a smile. "Really? I always thought of myself as a plain Jane."

"Oh please. Just shut it! Now, pick out something to wear. I'm starved and we're not eating until we play dress up for Mr. Asshole."

Charlotte gasped, "Sara! Don't cuss! Mama says it makes you sound ignorant."

Sara only smiled.

Charlotte finally settled on a black babydoll with matching thong panties. Sara chose a black corset and panties. As they were making the bed, Michael came on over the speakers, "Good morning, ladies. Sara, it's good to see that you are teaching Charlotte the rules. I'm impressed. Breakfast is served in the living room."

...

"I'm scared," said Charlotte as they stepped into the hallway.

"Nothing to worry about. He's not going to do a thing right now. Plus, he's a damn good cook." Sara took Charlotte's hand and led her into the living room. Michael was just setting out a covered platter on the table. Charlotte stopped in her tracks and started to backpedal into the hallway, but Sara steadied her with a reassuring glance and led her to the table.

"Ah, girls! How lovely you look this morning. Before I serve your breakfast, there are some things I'd like to discuss first." He motioned them to the couch across the room.

"I'm starving!" protested Sara.

"In a minute, Sara. First, I'd like to have a few words with my newest guest."

"Who me?" said Charlotte, pressing her body even closer to Sara's.

"Yes, now sit." Michael took a chair from the table and sat opposite the girls. Charlotte sat next to Sara, her arm wrapped around Sara's.

"Now, Charlotte, I'm sure there are some questions you'd like to ask me. I'll try to answer them now. Ahem, I...don't intend to keep you and Sara here indefinitely. There are some things I'd like the two of you to do for me. Once those things have been accomplished, I'll let you go."

"What do you want us to do?" asked Charlotte, her gaze oscillating between Sara and Michael.

Michael hesitated. "I don't want you to worry about that right now, Charlotte. Rather, just take this one day at a time. Concern yourself with now, follow Sara's lead, and you'll be just fine."

Charlotte squeezed Sara's hand.

Michael continued, "As I told Sara, if you are obedient, if you do as I say, if you refrain from doing anything foolish, you will be rewarded. If you disobey, you will be punished."

"Punished?" said Charlotte, her eyes wide with fright.

"Yes. I won't go into details, but it will be better if you just do as I say. I'm not going to hurt you. Just remember, the choice is yours." Michael stood. "Now, I'm going to leave the two of you to your breakfast, enjoy. In a couple of hours I will give you your first task. Don't worry, it will be simple." He said the last part with a smile.

Michael left. Sara went straight to her breakfast. After a little encouragement, Charlotte ate as well. When they finished, they plopped down on the couch and started watching TV. After a few minutes, the stress and uncertainty of the moment began to dissipate, and the two girls were soon giggling over old Seinfeld reruns. An hour passed before Michael interrupted over the speakers. "I'm glad to see the two of you are enjoying yourselves. It's time for your first task."

All traces of humor fled Charlotte's face. Sara gave her a comforting pat on the knee as Michael continued. "I told you earlier that your first task would be an easy one, and it is. I want the two of you to take a bath."

Sara cocked a brow.

Michael elaborated, "I don't want you to bathe yourselves, I want you to bathe one another. From head to toe, and every crack and crevice in between. The bathroom is the first door on your left. Everything you need is waiting for you there."

Sara let out a long breath, took Charlotte by the hand and pulled her to her feet. The girl was pale as a sheet. "Why would he want us to do that?" she asked as Sara led her from the room.

Sara glanced over and caught her eye. "You really don't know?" she asked as the left the living room.

Charlotte shook her head.

Sara paused at the door to the bathroom. She stared at her feet for a moment while she gathered her thoughts. "Charlotte, men are visual creatures. They like to watch. I swear, I think a man would get turned on watching two girls wallpaper a kitchen or pour concrete, much less bathe. So, he wants to watch us. Big deal." Charlotte nodded as Sara continued, "It's like this: washing me is pretty much the same as washing you, right? If you close your eyes, you'd hardly know the difference. In a few minutes, we'll be done, and we can go watch some more TV. Okay?"

"Okay," said Charlotte with a hesitant, nervous smile.

Laid out around the large, jacuzzi-style tub was everything they would need for the task at hand: soaps, lotions, oils and all the other accessories they could think of. Sara ran a hot bath, stripped and then dipped a toe to test the water. "Ow! Hot!" she yelped before easing into the steaming waters. Charlotte hesitated for a moment, but then followed Sara's lead and coaxed herself into the tub on the opposite end. She rested a foot on either side of Sara, and nestled down in the water until just her head peeked out. "This is nice," she heard herself say, and for the next few minutes the girls did nothing but relax in the soothing waters.

"Charlotte," Sara began.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to wash me first, or do you want to start?"

There was a pause. "Uh, why don't you go first. I'm still a little nervous."

"That's okay," said Sara. She lifted the girl's leg out of the water and rested her calf on her knee. She then took some soap, worked up a lather, and started washing Charlotte's foot, ankle and calf. "It's not really like washing yourself," she said as she worked her way up the calf, "he wants a show, so we need to do it with just a little more flair than if we were by ourselves." Sara washed up to the knee, and then turned her attention to the other leg. After that, she had Charlotte rise to her knees and turn so that her back was facing Sara. Her black hair stretched halfway down her back. Filling a pitcher with warm water, she first rinsed Charlotte's hair and then started to work the shampoo into a thick, rich lather. She worked slowly, enjoying the feel of the other woman, the beautiful contrast between her long black hair and porcelain skin. Charlotte giggled as Sara massaged the shampoo into her scalp, "This isn't so bad after all! I never take this much time with myself at home!"

Sara chuckled as she rinsed the girl's hair with the spray hose. She coiled hair and laid it between her breasts. Sara then lathered up her hands and turned her attention to Charlotte's back. She felt the girl tense as she worked the lather into her shoulders, neck and back. With each stroke of her hand, Charlotte let out a faint sigh, relaxing just a little bit. Sara went lower, running soap-covered hands over the tender flesh of Charlotte's backside and hips. Charlotte leaned forward, lifting her body out of the water, presenting Sara with a gorgeous view of her backside and just beyond that, the barest hint of a mound. Sara's fingers slide down the hot valley of her ass, over that small, tight entrance, and massaged the taunt flesh of her perineum, eliciting a sharp gasp from Charlotte, such that she had to brace herself against the sides of tub to keep from losing balance. Finishing that, Sara took the hose and rinsed off Charlotte's back, watching the water cascade down her gorgeous body.

Next, Sara inched forward until she was just behind Charlotte, so close that her breasts touched the girl's back. She slid her arms underneath Charlotte's and again lathered her hands. This time she worked the lather in circles around her stomach, just brushing the boundary of her thick pubic hair. She worked up, curving her hands around the Charlotte's breasts before swallowing them in thick, white foam. Her nipples were full and hard underneath Sara's hands, and she circled them with her index fingers. Charlotte gasped, her body shuddered as pleasure shot through her, and sank down into Sara's waiting embrace. Sara wrapped an arm around Charlotte's waist, while the other hand sought the tangled forest between her legs. To her surprise, Charlotte spread her legs as her hand slipped below her navel. Careful not to part the divide made by her labia, Sara gently cleansed Charlotte's privates. Charlotte moaned softly, and laying her head back on Sara's shoulder, nuzzled her face in her neck, both aroused and ashamed. Sara then rinsed the girl clean and held her while she regained her composure.

After a minute, Charlotte turned around and faced Sara, her face still beat red from the intimacy of the bath. Now it was Sara's turn to face the tender probing fingers of another woman. To Sara's surprise, Charlotte smiled, made a circling motion with her finger, making her turn around. Sara closed her eyes and luxuriated in the feel of the girl's fingers as she massaged the shampoo into her hair. Sara almost fell asleep before the warm rush of water from the pitcher cascaded down her body and brought her to her senses. Charlotte gently lathered Sara's entire body, only hesitating for a moment when she took her breasts into her hands with a tender caress. Sara bit her lip as Charlotte's hand reached down, between her legs, and cleansed that private place. She could feel the heat spreading out like fire from those reluctant fingers. At the last Charlotte turned her attention to Sara's backside, and like had been done to her, she ran her fingers down the middle of that divide, and Sara had to turn her head and bite her lip to avoid letting out a moan. Charlotte took the hose and released a warm stream of water down the small of Sara's back. Her fingers followed that stream again down that forbidden path, yet they ventured just a bit too far. Her finger slipped forward and parted the lips of Sara's labia, dipped into the hot opening of her vagina and brushed against her engorged clitoris before Charlotte realized her mistake and retracted her hand. Sara arched her back, a groan of pleasure slipping free of pursed lips.

"I'm so sorry," said Charlotte with a gasp. "I didn't mean to touch you there. My finger slipped." She drew back, away from Sara, to the far side of the tub.

"It's okay, Charlotte," Sara replied with some effort. Her privates were throbbing now, yearning for another touch. "He wanted a show, remember?"

"Yeah, but I still didn't mean to do that. We shouldn't touch each other's forbidden...uh...vagina."

Sara smiled. "Well, I guess it's a good thing we're finished then, isn't it?" She stood and stepped out of the tub as the water cascaded down her tone body.

Michael's voice came over the speakers, "Good work, ladies. Very impressive. You're not quite done, yet, though. First, I want you to towel dry one another. After that, Sara, you will notice a package and other things on the counter."

Sara's gaze went to the far side of the bathroom. There, on the counter, was a home waxing kit. She rolled her eyes. "You're not serious," she said.

"Perfectly serious," replied Michael. "From the looks of it, Charlotte has never trimmed her bikini area, so now it's time. I know you can do it, Sara. If I'm not mistaken you've been doing your own for years."

Sara sighed. It was true; she'd started waxing herself when she was fifteen, after a disastrous encounter with a razor. Until now, she never thought she'd have to wax someone else. She looked at Charlotte, who was staring at the waxing kit as if it might leap off the counter and bite her. "Don't worry about it," she said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Trust me, I've had plenty of practice on myself. It won't hurt as bad as you think."

Charlotte nodded, but kept a wary eye on the package nonetheless.

In the far corner of the bathroom, Michael had provided a sturdy white folding table. After drying off, Sara had Charlotte lay out on the table with a rolled towel for a makeshift pillow. Sara ran some hot water to warm the wax before turning her attention on Charlotte's privates. Charlotte wore her unease and apprehension like a neon sign. Sara felt for her. It seemed every hour was bringing some new experience she had to wrestle with. Just the day before, Charlotte was convinced that no one except her husband should ever touch her pussy. Now a stranger was about to give her her first Brazilian. Sara leaned over and kissed Charlotte on the forehead and caressed her face. Then she went to work. Sara spread Charlotte's legs so that her feet touched. She filled her hands with baby powder and said, "This will help with the trimmer," as she worked the powder into the thick hair between her legs. That's when she noticed the wetness. At first she thought she must have missed a spot when she dried Charlotte off, but she knew that wasn't it. The wetness came from Charlotte.




Sara's Story Ch. 03



She's turned on by this, Sara realized. One look confirmed her suspicion. The lips of Charlotte's labia were full and red, her clitoris hard and swollen. The girl wasn't blushing just because she was embarrassed; she was blushing because she was horny. She's never been touched like this before. This part of her body has never experienced this kind of attention. Has she even had an orgasm? Sara wondered.

Sara continued to work, trying her best to ignore her discovery while acting like she hadn't noticed a thing. Once Charlotte's nether region had been powdered, Sara grabbed the electric trimmers and plugged it in. "This won't hurt a bit," she said as she flicked it on with her thumb. Sara rested a hand on Charlotte's inner thigh and started to work the device in steady, even strokes. Sara went slow, slower than she needed to, and she couldn't help but smile. Charlotte was biting her lip, and squeezing the sides of the table. Is this turning her on? Sara wondered, Maybe the vibration of the trimmers is getting to her. Sara couldn't help but enjoy herself. Charlotte had been in denial of her own sexual impulses for so long that even the gentle vibration of the trimmers was arousing her.

Sara could only draw it out so long, however, and after a few minutes Charlotte's pubic hair lay in small clumps around the table and on her stomach. What remained was a wide triangle of hair cropped close to the flesh. Sara brushed the hair aside, "Now I want you to stay like this and don't move. I'll be right back." She could have let the girl relax a bit and close her legs, but Sara wanted her to do as she was told. It was nice, for a change, to exercise a little authority over someone else. Hanging from the door Sara took one of two short silk robes off a hook. There is power in clothing, she thought as she wrapped the silk around her naked flesh. Charlotte didn't move, awaiting Sara's attention with her legs spread wide on the white table. Her face and chest were still flushed, both with arousal and shame, but the girl did as she was told. When Sara returned, she had a towel soaked with hot water in her hand. "This will soften the hair, so when I use the wax it won't hurt as bad." Sara said as she slowly pressed the towel against the excited flesh of her vulva. Charlotte squeezed her lips to stifle a moan. "That didn't hurt, did it?" asked Sara. Her voice was deep and hungry. Charlotte shook her head. "Good, now I want you to hold this here until I tell you to. It will take a few minutes before it's ready." Again Charlotte nodded, and held the towel against herself just as she was told.

Sara smiled at Charlotte, who looked up at her with wide, anxious eyes. She ran her fingers along the length of Charlotte's arm, the flesh pimpled from the cool air. "You have such delicate skin, Charlotte. It really is beautiful. I hope you take good care of it," Sara said as she caressed her shoulder.

"I do," replied Charlotte. "Momma always said I should take good care of my skin so it will look young and fresh."

"Your mom's right about that," Sara said, taking jar of lotion from the counter. "Why don't I rub some lotion on your skin?" she asked as she squeezed some out into her palm.

"I guess that would be okay," Charlotte replied with the slightest quiver in her voice.

Sara started with her shoulders, massaging the lotion into her skin with firm hands. She moved on to Charlotte's stomach and, at long last, to her breasts. Sara could feel the beating of the girl's heart as she gently kneaded the lotion into her breast as she teased her erect nipples. Charlotte groaned, her hips started to sway in rhythm to Sara's hands. "Sara, please, maybe you should stop," Charlotte begged, her voice barely a whisper.

You can do it, said the voice. Right now. You can take her. She wouldn't tell you no even if she could. 

Sara stood hesitated, frozen with indecision. One hand still rested on the girl's breast, her nipple pushing up against Sara's palm. Despite the protest, Charlotte made no attempt to move or prevent Sara at all. With great effort, Sara said, "I think the hair is soft enough now. Why don't we get started so you can get some clothes on?" Charlotte nodded quickly in agreement.

Sara smoothed the wax in neat lines across Charlotte's pubic area with practiced ease. To her surprise, Charlotte hardly winced when she ripped the paper strips free in a smooth, quick motion. Soon all that remained of the luxuriant tangle that once adorned Charlotte's privates was a thin strip of trimmed hair, the delicate flesh around her vulva red and puffy with irritation. "He gave us some Tea Tree oil, it'll lessen the pain and help prevent ingrown hairs," Sara said as she oiled her hands. She tried to ignore the beating in her own chest, the steady pulse she felt between her own legs. It had been a long time since she felt this turned on. Standing as she was, directly over the girl's privates, she could plainly see the bead of fluid that sat like a pearl at the entrance of her vagina. She could smell the hot, musky scent of arousal. She didn't need the Voice to tell her that if she wanted her, now was the time. Using her fingers, she started to rub the oil onto that aroused flesh. Charlotte turned her toward the wall, away from her, and let slip a soft moan. Her hips arched and pushed against Sara's hand, urging her on, impelling her to do what she could not say aloud. Yet, this time, it was Sara who flinched.

"That's good," she said, turning away from the table and washing her hands at the sink. "You might be a bit sore for a couple of hours, but other than that you'll be fine.

Charlotte sat up, her face flushed, and nodded. "Thanks Sara," she said.

Sara wasn't quite sure for what.

Charlotte took the other robe from the hook on the door and quickly wrapped it around her body. "It's feels good to have some clothes on again!" she said with a smile.

Sara chuckled and opened the door for her. The tension of the moment quickly faded. Neither one mentioned it again, but were content to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. They watched movies. Sara was shocked to discover that Charlotte had never seen the Blues Brothers, or American Pie, or any other rated-R movie. "Papa says that movies are the devil's soapbox. We didn't even get a TV until the Trinity Broadcast Network came out," Charlotte informed her. Sara laughed, and the girls sat down for a movie.



Sara's Story Ch. 04



[Author's notes: I'd like to show my gratitude to Inkstaine for her continued help in editing this story. Thanks Inkstaine!

All characters in this story are over the legal age.

Thanks again for your readership. Please take the time to comment!]

*

Tuesday evening...

After dinner, Michael's voice came over the speakers. "Good evening, ladies. Nice to see you're in such good moods. Now, since you've both been so well behaved today, I was going to let you have the rest of the night off. However, I thought I'd give you the option of an extra-credit assignment."

"Oh boy, extra credit!" Sara quipped.

"Now, now, Sara. At least wait until I tell you what it is. First, the reward:. If you do what I ask tonight, I'll let you both send a letter home, or where ever you want."

"Wait a sec, how do we even know you'll send it?" Sara asked.

"You don't," Michael said flatly. "You'll have to trust me I'm afraid, but I have no reason to lie. You can write the letter, and I'll send it out in the morning. Not from here, of course, but your recipient will get it just the same"

"What do you want us to do?" asked Charlotte.

"That's the easy part. All you have to do is kiss," Michael replied.

"A kiss?" said Charlotte, "That's all?"

"He doesn't mean a good-night kiss you'd give to your mom, Charlotte." Sara then turned her attention to the nearest camera. "Do you, Michael?"

"Sara is correct. For the kiss to count, it has to be a good one. Open mouth, full, and not short."

"Nothing else?" Sara asked, not sure if she believed him, "You can't change the deal on us."

"No, Sara, nothing else. Just a kiss, but if you make it extra-good, I might throw in something special on top of the letter. We'll have to see."

"Give us a minute," said Sara.

She looked at Charlotte, who was next to her on the couch, brow furrowed in thought. Sara thought of her mother; she'd be beside herself in grief by now. In the least a letter would give her hope. Sara didn't doubt that Michael would do as he said. There would be no reason not too.

Charlotte looked up and caught Sara's eye. "Do you think he'll really send the letters if we do it?"

Sara nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I mean it could be a lie, but I think he'd just try to force us or offer some other kind of bait instead."

"I guess after this morning it wouldn't be so bad." Charlotte said. "I'm sure Crissy and her folks are really worried about me, and I know Ma is. Maybe Papa too. It would be good to let them know I'm okay."

"I think so. Well?"

Charlotte bit her lip, then nodded. "Let's do it," she said with a devilish grin.

Sara looked up at the nearest camera. "Okay, we're in. But you better not be messing with us."

"Very good," Michael replied. "Whenever you're ready, ladies."

Sara took Charlotte's hand; it was cold and damp with nervous sweat.

Charlotte smiled and said, "Maybe you should take the lead. I...I've never kissed a girl, and I've never really kissed a boy before, either. At least not the way he wants us too." 

Sara turned to face Charlotte on the couch, sitting on her legs and leaning forward. Though her hand trembled in Sara's, Charlotte's face was open, welcoming. Her lips parted just enough to show a glimmer of white. Sara caressed her cheek, brushing a stray hair behind the girl's ear. Her fingers traced lines through her hair before circling around to palm the nape of her neck. She pulled Charlotte close, their lips almost touching. Sara could feel Charlotte's breath, quick and hot, on her lips. She quickly closed that narrow gap and kissed her, drawing Charlotte's succulent bottom lip between her own. Sara left the girl's hand in her lap and drew their bodies together with an arm around her waist. Charlotte was rigid, perfectly still. Her hands found Sara's hips, but parked there like a shy teenager on a first dance. Sara slipped the boundary of Charlotte's mouth with the slightest flick of her tongue. The hands on her hips squeezed. The body that had been so stiff began to melt onto hers. Charlotte's mouth opened, their tongues met. Sara could feel the beating of the girl's chest next to her own, the heat rising between them. Charlotte sank back into the folds of the couch, and Sara followed her down, legs entwined, hands moving freely across the curves of their bodies. At last out of breath, Sara broke the spell of the kiss, sucking Charlotte's lips and planting light kisses on her chin; slowly bringing them back down to earth. Sara tried to pull away, but Charlotte held her there with a hand between her shoulders. "Not yet," she whispered. "Just...for a minute, don't let go." They laid there, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, until Charlotte finally looked up at her and chuckled.

...

Sara read over her letter one last time before stuffing it into an envelope and licking the adhesive. She then flipped it over, sealed it, and wrote her mother's address on the front. If Michael sent it off tomorrow, she'd get it by the next day. Hopefully then she would rest just a little easier. At least she'd know her only daughter wasn't rotting in some dumpster somewhere. At least not yet. Sara tried to be upbeat, confident that her captor would do as he said and release her once she and Charlotte did what he asked. Until now, she had avoided thinking about that question. What was Michael really planning? Was he a killer? She didn't know. Would this be the last thing she ever said to her mother? Sara shook her head. It didn't do a lick of good to dwell on it, one way or the other.

Charlotte was finishing her own letter when she looked up and caught Sara watching her. "What?" she said with a smile.

"Oh, nothing," said Sara, "just thinking."

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Well, I was just thinking about what you said the other night, about how you were glad it was me you're stuck here with."

Charlotte chewed the end of her pencil and smiled. "Yeah."

"Well, I'm glad too. You're a great girl, Charlotte. I'm sorry you're in this mess, but I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be here."

Charlotte blushed and went back to her letter.

...

Wednesday.

By the third day of her kidnapping, Sara Kierson no longer carried herself like a captive. She went about her new routine without the slightest glance at the ever vigilant cameras. She chose her outfit according to which gave her a sense of power. She exercised. She ate her breakfast. She enjoyed Charlotte's company.

Bath time started after lunch today, instead of before. Sara quickly fell into her role as the woman in charge. As before, didn't make the first attempt to prevent her fingers from going wherever they chose to go. She only got very quiet, and turned her face away when it flushed with excitement. Instead of Brazilian wax jobs, today Michael's fancy was painting nails. The girls wrapped themselves in silk robes and headed out to the living room for the assignment. Charlotte chose bright red for her fingers and toes. Sara did the fingers first, then plopped down at Charlotte's feet to do the toes. Looking up, underneath the robe and between the loosely closed legs, Sara could again see the telltale wetness, confirming what she already knew. I'll be home soon, she couldn't help but think. A few minutes later it was Charlotte's turn to sit on the floor. Taking note of Sara's habit, Charlotte chose a different color for every toe. Sara idly wondered if Charlotte noticed wetness between her own legs. If she, like her, knew the unmistakable scent of a woman aroused. 

Just after dinner, while Charlotte had excused herself to the bathroom, Sara heard one of the doors on the far side of the living room open, and in walked Michael. "What's up? Sara asked, never taking her gaze off the television.

"It's time we picked things up a notch, Sara." Michael said, going straight to the point.

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"Tonight, I want you to take her a little farther than you have been."

Sara paused and sat up. "Are you sure she's ready, Michael? If you push her, she'll clam up. I don't think you want that to happen."

"She's ready. Not to go all the way, but to go...further. This will help," he produced a bottle of red wine and set it on the end table.

"Uh, I don't think she drinks. Fundy parents and all that." 

"She's not into girls, either, but you could have had her yesterday if you wanted."

Sara stood. She took in the spectacle of him: a grown man in a neoprene mask, and he didn't even have any superpowers. Ridiculous, she thought. "I suppose, but she didn't think I was going to do anything, either. Sometimes it's all about expectations."

"Just try, Sara. That's all. I'm sure she's as ready to get out of here as you are, or am I making your stay here to pleasant?"

Sara put up a hand. "Alright, alright, no need to be like that. I'll do it. But you better leave before she comes back; she freaks out whenever she sees you and it'll kill the mood."

Just as Michael was leaving through the rear door of the living room, Charlotte came in through the front. She froze in her tracks. "Was that Michael? What did he want?" she asked as she watched the door shut with a click behind him.

Sara shrugged. "He just left us some wine for an after dinner treat. I suppose for that extra spicy kiss you laid on me last night. Do you drink?" she asked Charlotte as she sat down next to her on the couch.

Charlotte shook her head. "No, Papa said that drink is a sin."

Sara cracked a half-smile. "What about turning water into wine and all that?"

"Uh, Papa says it was grape juice."

Sara burst out laughing. "Not much of a miracle then, is it?"

Charlotte couldn't help but laugh. "Guess not. I can't imagine the Lord served Welches," she said with a snort.

"C'mon," said Sara, grabbing the bottle with one hand and Charlotte's hand with the other. "It's been a stressful week. Nothing takes the edge off like a glass of wine." Sara led her to the bedroom, where she put on some music and uncorked the wine. She poured two glasses and handed one to Charlotte. Charlotte sat on the divan and leaned her back against the wall. Sara sat down next to her.

"I guess it's not too much of a sin, is it?" Charlotte said. "I mean, after everything else that happened today, and yesterday." She took a sip of wine and felt the warmth radiate from her belly.

Sara likewise took a drink and studied the girl for a moment before speaking. "Do you feel bad about it, what happened yesterday?" she asked.

There was a pause; the sip became a gulp. "Maybe a little," Charlotte said. She ran her finger around the rim of the glass. "I've never made out with anyone. Never even really kissed anyone, Sara. One time I kissed a boy behind the shed at Crissy's house, but I was only twelve. I don't think it really counts. Now in one day I've french kissed a girl and done...other stuff."

"We could just tell him we're not going to fool around for him anymore," Sara said as she refilled Charlotte's glass.

Charlotte looked up at her, "Whaddya think he'll do?" she asked.

"Dunno," Sara said with a shrug, "punish us, no doubt. Take away all of our toys; treat us like we're on restriction. He's pretty blunt, Charlotte. There's really no telling what he'll do if we refuse him, he's already whipped me once."

"He did not!" Charlotte said, spilling some wine on her bare leg and wiping it off with a palm. "When? What did you do?"

"The night before you got here, my first night here," Sara replied. She flashed a wicked grin, "I peed in his mouth."

Charlotte gasped, putting her hand over her mouth in shock, then she burst out laughing, spilling more of her wine. "Oh my god! that's so gross!" she said between guffaws. A perplexed look crossed her face. "What was he doing down there, anyway?" she asked.

"What do you think he was doing, Charlotte?" Sara said. "I was tied up. He didn't leave me much choice."

"Oh, well I guess that put an end to that."

"No, it didn't. He cleaned himself up and kept going. Michael can be very persistent. And persuasive. Keep it in mind, Charlotte."

"Oh. Then he whipped you?"

Sara nodded. For awhile neither spoke, each content to enjoy the wine, the music and the company. Finally, Charlotte broke the silence. "I hope he never does that to me."

"What," asked Sara, "whip you, or go down on you?"

Charlotte chuckled. "Either," she said, "but I meant going down there."

Sara smiled and looked at her. "It's not that bad, Charlotte. He didn't do anything else, thank god. Just that, and if it had been someone else, someone I wanted, it would have been awesome."

Charlotte leaned in a little closer, close enough that Sara could smell the wine on her breath, and whispered, "Sometimes, at night, I fantasize about it. When I was a kid I found one of Ma's romance novels, the ones she hides from papa, and read it. My favorite scene was when the guy came into the girl's room at night when she was asleep and did that. I read it over and over." 

Sara brushed a stray hair from that perfectly innocent face. "Maybe one day you'll get to experience the real thing," she said.

Charlotte nodded, biting her lip. "One day I hope. With someone who is experienced; who will do it right."

Now dammit, screamed the voice in Sara's head.

Sara held Charlotte's chin with her finger and kissed her. Charlotte's tongue slid eagerly into her mouth as her body pressed against Sara's. Empty wineglasses slipped to the carpeted floor. Sara cupped Charlotte's head in her hands and returned the kiss with equal passion. She straddled Charlotte, her lips moving to nibble the lobes of Charlotte's ears. Charlotte caught her breath, her hands, rigid with the timidity of inexperience, clung to Sara's hips and pressed their bodies together. Nimble fingers worked the lace straps of Charlotte's top, exposing alabaster breasts and round, hard nipples. Sara guided Charlotte down, nestling her into the thick cushions of the divan. She then lifted herself up and took one brief moment to admire the scene: a round porcelain face framed by a tangle of black, a face so innocent, yet so wanton. And those breasts, so exquisite in the way they parted when she laid on her back.

Sara bent down and planted light kisses between Charlotte's breasts as she cupped one and admired its weight, the feel of it in her hand. Her kisses shifted, moving up the gentle rise until she found her nipple. She circled it with her tongue, drawing it to an even harder point. Charlotte moaned, her hands finally relaxed and found the back of Sara's head. Sara caught Charlotte's nipple between her teeth and sucked. The response was immediate. "Oh god," Charlotte whispered between gasps, "that feels amazing."

Sara looked up at her and smiled, hazel eyes flashing. "Oh, just you wait." Charlotte giggled. Sara planted kisses along her neck and behind her ear. Her legs, rigid and straight, opened ever so slightly and Sara slid in between them as Charlotte spread them even more to accommodate. Charlotte did not return Sara's affections. Her hands clung to Sara's side, neither preventing or taking part. Yet her body reacted to every touch, every squeeze and caress. Sara's kisses continued down, past her breasts and down her tummy. When she reached the edge of Charlotte's panties, she sat up.

Charlotte grinned.

Sara ran her nails along Charlotte's inner thigh and the girl gasped. She brought her fingers up, along her hips, and took her panties between her fingers. To Sara's surprise, Charlotte lifted her hips. Sara smiled at that, and pulled her panties off and threw them on the floor. Charlotte's gaze never left her for a second. Sara laid a hand on Charlotte's stomach, and then ran them down between her legs. Charlotte arched her back and groaned. Sara could feel the wetness, knew the girl was as ready as she would ever be.

Before Charlotte lost her nerve, Sara lay down between her legs and started to kiss the girl's swollen labia. Her tongue split that opening, and Sara was surprised by how wet she was. The effect was intoxicating, exhilarating. Instantly, her own vagina began to throb and ache in response. Charlotte grabbed a fistful of hair and pressed Sara's face into her. Sara put her lips directly over Charlotte's vagina and began to suck. Charlotte's hips began to move, thrusting into Sara's open mouth and smearing her wetness across her face.

Sara was in a daze of passion. The fingers of her left hand acted on their own accord, seeking out her own pleasure. She felt her hips thrusting into the edge of the divan, seeking friction, release. Sara's mouth went from the opening of Charlotte's vagina to her clitoris. She fought against Charlotte's pressing hands and lifted her head slightly- just enough to give her tongue the space to delicately brush the tip of Charlotte's clit. Charlotte stiffened. Her climax was close, and much sooner than Sara wanted.

But Charlotte's hands went to the sides of the couch. "Wait," she whispered, her voice tinged with desperation and fright.

Sara did not stop.

"Sara, please. Stop," Charlotte begged. "I'm sorry, I'm...I'm not ready."

Sara lifted her head. Between her beautiful breasts, she could see Charlotte looking down at her, her face filled with confusion and dismay. Sara kissed her thigh. "It'll be okay, Charlotte. It's not going to hurt or anything. It's me."

"I...I just don't know," said Charlotte between breaths. "I want you, but it doesn't feel right. Maybe it's the wine."

Sara continued to kiss Charlotte's thigh, making a slow line that lead back between her legs. Between kisses she said, "It's just because it's your first time. It will be okay. Just relax."

Charlotte nodded. Reluctantly her hands moved back to Sara's head, but they were stiff, mechanical.

Sara closed her eyes and continued to go down on her, running a line with her tongue that started at Charlotte's perineum and went all the way up. She felt Charlotte's body heave as the girl took in a deep breath. Almost there, Sara thought.

Then she realized that the shaking of Charlotte's body was caused, not by pleasure, but by her sobs.

"I'm so sorry," Charlotte said as tears stained her cheeks, "I want to, Sara, but I can't. Please don't be mad at me!"

Oh god, Sara thought. I'm such an ass. I'm worse than a teenager.

Sara moved up from between her legs. Charlotte wrapped her arms around her and wept into her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sara, please don't be upset."

Sara stroked her hair and sighed. "How could I be mad at you? It's my fault, Charlotte, not yours. I should have stopped as soon as you asked me to."

"But you're so beautiful," Charlotte protested, "and now you're not going to like me anymore." Charlotte was crushed. The awkwardness and uncertainty of the first time, the wine, the fear of her captor, everything came crashing in on her at that moment. She sobbed while Sara gently cradled her.

Finally, after some time had passed, Sara broke the silence. "I can't do this," she muttered.

Charlotte lifted up her head in confusion, but Sara wasn't looking at her. Sara's gaze was upon the nearest camera.

"Michael," Sara began, "I can't do this. She's not ready. Hell, she's just a kid."

"What do you mean," said Charlotte. "What's going on."

"That's enough for tonight, get some rest," Michael said over the speakers.

"No," Sara replied flatly. "It's over, Michael. I can't go through with this."

"Wait...you planned this?" Charlotte asked.

Sara looked down at Charlotte. "When he brought me the wine, he told me to take it a little further. I was going to tell you, but I didn't want you to get worked up about it," she said.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," said Michael.

Charlotte withdrew to the far end of the divan and covered herself. "You mean you were trying to take seduce me? I thought you were doing it because you liked me," she said. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.




Sara's Story Ch. 04



"No, Charlotte, I do like you. I like you very much, but I'm trying to protect you from Michael."

Charlotte shook her head. "No! You and Michael are in this together!" she shouted through her sobs.

Sara ran her fingers through her hair. Her face went deep red. "That is not true, Charlotte," she said with a quivering chin, "I'd never do anything to hurt you."

"You just did," Charlotte replied and buried her face in the cushions.

Sara reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but thought the better of it. She stood, her body shaking with anger. "Michael," she said, "this is enough." She walked to the nearest camera and looked directly into it. "Let her go, Michael. Take me. I'll do anything you want. Anything. Just let Charlotte go and I'm yours. No questions asked."

Charlotte lifted her head from the divan and looked at Sara in disbelief.

"You're already mine," came the reply, "and so is Charlotte."

Sara bit her lip to force back a curse. "Maybe so, but not willingly. I'll be your slave, Michael. Think about it."

"Oh god, Sara, please don't do this," Charlotte begged. "I'll do what he wants, but don't give yourself up like this."

Sara didn't look at her for fear of losing her resolve.

It didn't take long for Michael to respond. "Meet me in the living room. We'll talk about it."

Sara headed for the closet, but Charlotte caught her before she was halfway there. "Sara, don't! How can I live with myself if he lets me go but keeps you?"

Sara stopped and smiled at her. "I'll be fine, Charlotte. I can handle Michael. What I can handle is the guilt of seducing you for his enjoyment."

"Don't do it for his enjoyment, do it for yours." Charlotte grabbed Sara's hands and squeezed them.

Sara kissed her on the forehead. "No Charlotte. I can't. At a different time, in a different place, I'd love to be with you, but not here, not now." She left Charlotte standing there in the middle of the room while she changed into a leather corset and bottom, and headed to the living room

In the living room, Sara paced the floor between the kitchenette and the TV. Now that she was committed, she was filled with doubt. Not that she'd change her mind even if Michael gave her the chance. If she could convince Michael to let Charlotte go, she'd do anything for him. She knew it wasn't a rational plan. She hardly knew Charlotte. Yet she felt something for her that was much more than lust. Maybe not quite love, but something close. Charlotte was a rarity in the world. Moral and chaste, yet open-minded and warm. She had a huge heart- and Sara did not want to see her corrupted by Michael's perverted fantasies. She had seen and done most everything. Michael wasn't a complete sicko, he just wanted to see two girls go at it. Fine, she could do that, just not with Charlotte. Get her some other girl, someone who wasn't a church-going virgin, and she'd do anything Michael wanted. She could live with herself after that. But this? Never.

Sara paused. She looked at the clock; it had been ten minutes. Michael never took this long. Oh god, she thought, Charlotte! She went for the door, but it was locked. She beat on it, cried out for Charlotte, but there was no answer. She tried the other doors, knowing they were locked as well, but desperate to get to Charlotte just the same. She felt hot tears streaming down her face.

Michael's voice boomed over the speakers. "Sara, no need to get all worked up," he said.

"What did you do to her, you bastard!" she screamed.

"Why don't you come and see," said Michael, "we're three doors down on the left."

Sara stormed down the hallway and burst through the door. She knew this room, knew the pictures on the wall, the leather couch, and the chains in the center. She had been here three nights before. Michael sat on the couch. Charlotte stood in the center of the room, her back to Sara. Her ankles were cuffed, and even though she couldn't see it, she knew that her wrists were cuffed as well. Charlotte's head was down, and she was shaking with fear.

"Let her go you son of a bitch," Sara demanded. Not waiting, she went to the girl's side. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her face pale with fear. Her hands went to the cuffs even though she knew she had no way to open them.

Michael smiled. "Not without a key, I'm afraid, and not until she's been punished. Interesting choice of outfit, by the way. Almost prescient."

Sara stood between Charlotte and Michael. "You're not touching her, Michael. Not until you go through me first."

Michael's smile widened. "You're right. I'm not touching her," he said, and then a pause. "You are."

Sara's jaw dropped. "No. No way. There's no way I'm going to whip her. You're out of your freaking mind."

"That's your punishment, Sara. Unless you'd rather watch me whip her instead. You'll go first, so she knows what she's in for, then her, and you will watch. We know which of us will hurt more. The choice is yours."

"Why are you doing this to us? What the hell did we do that was so bad?" Sara asked, exasperated.

"You've grown too comfortable, both of you. It's time to remind you who is in charge here. There are no deals, Sara. You will do as I say. If you don't...well, this is only the beginning."

"Sara," Charlotte whispered, "I don't want him to touch me. Please, just get it over with."

Sara considered Charlotte. So afraid, yet resolute just the same. Her gaze turned to Michael; there was no changing his mind. That lesson she'd already learned. Sara nodded, defeated. "You're such a bastard," she said to Michael. She walked over and started ratcheting the lever. Charlotte whimpered as her hands were lifted up, over her head, followed by her body. When her toes just touched the floor, Sara stopped. She took the riding crop off the table and walked over to Charlotte. She kissed her, long and hard, and was shocked at the passion with which the kiss was returned.

"Please forgive me for what I'm about to do," Sara said under her breath.

Charlotte hung her head and nodded, but then, her voice hardly a whisper, added, "I love you."

Sara paused, not quite sure what she had heard, but Charlotte only stared at the floor.

Sara moved behind her. Her hand moved along Charlotte's side before taking a firm hold of her hip. She raised the crop over her head and brought it down on Charlotte's ass with a loud crack. Charlotte jerked forward, her head snapped up and Sara heard her take in a sharp breath. Again Sara raised the crop and brought it down, and again, and again. She tried to spread her blows around so as not to strike the same spot twice, but the swathes of pale flesh were quickly filled in by burning red stripes. She wondered if this was how she looked, when Michael was whipping her, meekly accepting the pain that was being meted out to her. Sara then discovered, beneath her anger, just behind the pity she felt for Charlotte, an emotion of an altogether unexpected sort. Sara felt a tingling between her legs. She at the realization that, as she watched Charlotte's voluptuous frame writhe and squirm underneath the blows of the crop, she was aroused. The heat she felt on the couch returned in full.

Sara's face burned bright red with shame.

"Harder," ordered Michael, "harder, Sara, or I'll do it for you."

Sara paused long enough to glare at Michael, then turned back to Charlotte. Her backside was now bright red, and there wasn't a spot she could strike that wasn't already stinging. Sara started again, harder. For the first time, Charlotte cried out, welts already rising along the tender curve of her ass. Sara tried stopped, but a stern look from Michael forced her on.

Charlotte now began to cry out with every strike. "Please, Sara, stop!" she begged, but one look from Michael told Sara she could not. Charlotte squirmed, twisting around, desperate to avoid the stinging blows. Sara held her in place and continued whipping her; cursing Michael for making her do this, cursing herself for enjoying it. Finally, after what seemed hours to Sara, Charlotte's feet gave out and she slumped down on the chains.

"Enough," said Michael with a wave of his hands. He stood. "You're a natural," he said to Sara.

"Fuck you," she replied, "give me the damn key."

Michael smirked and tossed it on the table on his way out.

Sara hurried to the wench and eased Charlotte to the ground. She ran back and removed the cuffs that bound Charlotte's wrists and ankles. The girl curled into a ball on the floor and sobbed. Sara sat next to her, running her fingers through those long black curls. Charlotte's backside was criss-crossed with red, angry welts, a sharp contrast against her pale skin. Sara tried not to look at them, at what she had done.

"C'mon, baby," Sara after awhile, "let's get you to the couch." She lifted the girl to her feet, but Charlotte wrapped her arms around her neck and squeezed.

"Why is he so mean?" Charlotte asked as Sara led her to the couch. "I would have done what he said, I just needed some time. He didn't have to make you do that." Charlotte absently sat down on the couch, but shot right back up as soon as her backside touched leather. "Ah! Bad idea."

"Lie on your stomach," Sara suggested, and Charlotte did as she was told. "Let's see," she continued, digging through the drawer under the end table, "after he whipped me the rubbed this stuff on the marks. It helped a lot." Sara presented a bottle of lotion.

Charlotte nodded. "Anything," she said. "My butt's on fire."

Sara knelt beside the couch, squeezed some lotion into her hand and started to gently massage it into the long red welts on Charlotte's backside. At first, Charlotte tensed, but after a few minutes she relaxed with an audible sigh. Again Sara found herself wondering if this is how Michael felt when did the same to her. It was obvious, now, that he was taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Is that what she was doing now? Sara couldn't answer that question, but she could not deny how much she was enjoying herself. Charlotte's body felt amazing under her fingers. Sara followed the lotion with a string of soft kisses along each welt, until she had covered each and every one with them. Maybe it didn't actually help. It made her feel better, and Charlotte did not complain one bit.

Sara lifted her head and smiled up at Charlotte, who had craned her neck to watch. Charlotte shifted, and then rolled over on her back. She brought up one knee and laid it against the couch and turned the other outward, opening warm thighs for Sara to kiss.

Sara took one long look at Charlotte's open legs, at the glistening entrance of her sex, before her gaze faltered and she looked up to see Charlotte own gaze upon her, wanton and hungry. "He's watching," Sara cautioned.

"So?" Charlotte replied. "He's always watching. Don't make me beg, Sara."

The thought of Charlotte begging her for it was more than a little tempting for Sara, but no more so than the reality of what lay before her. She tried not to rush as her mouth returned to Charlotte's pale skin, but she just couldn't help herself. She'd had enough of thighs and backsides, she wanted her. 

Charlotte's hands moved again to grasp handfuls of Sara's blond mop and guide her to that place. She arched her hips and wrapped her legs around Sara's body as her tongue began to lap between the folds of Charlotte's labia. Charlotte moaned, already close to orgasm. Sara's hands were all over her. Up they would run along her sides before moving across her breasts to tease her hard nipples. Back down they would go, sending ripples of electricity across her stomach and down her thighs.

Sara was now furiously stroking her engorged clitoris with her tongue. Charlotte's hips slowly began to rock, back and forth. The rocking intensified. Her hips began to grind against Sara's face as her hands pressed down against the back of her head. Sara cupped Charlotte's ass with her hands and squeezed, trying to hold on and steady the desperate gyrations of her partner. Suddenly Charlotte lifted off the couch, so that only her feet and shoulders touched, and pressed Sara's face further into her wet mound. She drew in a sharp, deep breath, and every muscle in her body went taut.

Sara's lips and cheeks were smeared with the consequence of Charlotte's passion. Yet she loved the smell of her, the taste. She was enraptured by the intensity of the other woman's desire for her. At the crest of Charlotte's orgasm it was Sara's name that she cried out, over and over. Slowly Charlotte sunk back down into the couch, still grasping handfuls of Sara's hair, still pressing her face against that hot, wet place. "Oh god, Sara," she said, her voice a whisper, "I've never...never...do it again."

Sara did as she was asked. Over and over taking Charlotte to that place she had never been. She worked her mouth until her jaw ached and her tongue threatened to stop working at all, yet still she continued. When Charlotte's clitoris became so sensitive Sara could no longer touch it, she began to tease it with slight flicks of the tongue, each one sending a spasm of pleasure coursing through Charlotte's body. She then slipped a finger, only one, into that most intimate of places. Sara was surprised at the tightness of it, how perfectly it conformed to the shape and caress of her finger. Sara found that place deep inside, and began to run circle around it with the tip of her finger. Sara watched from between Charlotte's legs as the girl came again, her hips moving like a piston against Sara's finger. Charlotte's head collapsed against the couch, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Sara withdrew the hand and sucked the hot nectar from her finger.

Exhausted, both women were content to lay on the couch; Charlotte sprawled across its length, her legs still wrapped around her partner, and Sara, her head resting on the soft expanse of Charlotte's stomach. Long minutes passed before either said a word, but Charlotte's hand searched out Sara's, and held it tight. Finally, longing for the comfort of her bed, Sara roused Charlotte from her half-slumber and guided the spent woman to the warm embrace of the blankets.



Sara's Story Ch. 05



[As always, special thanks to Inkstaine, who so kindly edited this chapter for me despite her hectic schedule. Thanks Inkstaine!

Two chapters remain to the story. Look for the next installment soon.

As always, comments are welcome!

Obbity]

Later that night...

While Charlotte slept soundly, her arms and legs wrapped in a tangle around her lover, Sara did not. The passion roused in her over the past two days, coming to a head on the leather couch in the other room, did not so quickly abate. Though she enjoyed Charlotte's embrace, the dull throbbing between her legs denied her rest. At first, she was frustrated with her partner, until she remembered how she had been with her first, how long it took her before she was ready to reciprocate the pleasure she had been voraciously receiving.

No, it wasn't Charlotte's fault that she was as horny as a teenager in a porn shop. She'd simply have to take care of this herself, if for no other reason than to get a good night's sleep. She disentangled Charlotte's limbs from her own, careful not to wake her as she did. Charlotte sighed and shifted, but didn't roll over no matter how Sara tried to nudge her.

Sara frowned. She didn't want to get out of bed to satisfy her craving, but she didn't want Charlotte wake up, either. So she turned on her side, facing Charlotte, and curled her legs up into a half-circle. She arched her back, sticking her butt out just a little bit, and moved her hand behind her, sliding down the open valley of her ass to part the moist lips of her labia with two fingers. She had to bite her lip to stifle the gasp. She began to slide her fingers back and forth, cautiously rocking her hips in an inverse motion. Soon Sara's short blond hair was a tangled mess, sticky with sweat, her brow furrowed in the desperate grimace of one trying to hurry an orgasm.

All of a sudden a kind of half squeal slipped from her lips. Sara's hazel eyes went wide and she froze as Charlotte groaned softly and shifted in a half-sleep daze. Sara frowned again. This just wouldn't do. She was not quiet when she came; it just wasn't possible. Even worse, she could smell her heavy scent under the sheets. If Charlotte woke, she would know, and that would just be embarrassing. She waited for a few minutes, until she was sure Charlotte was back in a deep sleep, and quietly slipped out of bed. She padded into the bathroom and searched for a good spot. No such luck.

Sara sighed and considered for a moment just getting back into bed and ignoring the throbbing between her legs, but she knew it was too late. The little beast had already gotten a foretaste, and now would be grumpy as hell if she didn't give it what it wanted. She quietly made her way across the room and into the hallway, careful to make sure the door made no noise as she closed it behind her. It was now well past 4 a.m. Michael had to sleep sometime, she figured. The couch would be the perfect place for some alone time.

She took the corner of the couch, farthest from the cameras, and practically buried herself in the cushions, bringing her knees up and together, and slid her fingers between the narrow gap of her thighs and began to rub that swollen, aching nub. Sara sighed a long, pleasurable sigh. Her entire body relaxed, luxuriating in the knowledge of what was about to happen. Slowly, tension began to build once again.

Sara wasn't sure at what point Michael entered the room. She never heard a door, and he made no noise as he crossed the distance between it and the couch. She only felt a presence, and there he was, standing over her. No words passed between them; there wasn't anything to say. He knew what she was doing there, and she knew exactly why he came. Her hand stopped, and her knees opened. Michael knelt down in front of her and took her hand, sucking the fingertips that had been so busy just seconds before. As his head sank down between her legs, Sara knew she was making a mistake. She should be pissed at him for what he had done, what he had made her do. But she remembered that night, bound upon the table, how gifted he was with his tongue. So she sank down into the cushions of the couch, content to let him guide her to that place she was so earnestly yearning to reach.

He was in the mood to tease again, much like that night, to draw her pleasure out as long as possible, building the tension until every muscle in her body was coiled like a spring. His tongue circled a slow and whimsical dance, peppering her with long caresses and quick, light flicks.

Suddenly her fingers caught on the neckline of his mask and started to lift it over his head. He pulled away from her. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Please," she begged. "It's dark and I won't look. I need to feel your face on my body, not some stupid mask." She caught his head between her fingers and pulled him back down to her and in a clean motion ripped the mask off his face and dropped it on the floor next to him. Her hands ran through his hair as his tongue once again started to work in that hot place between her legs.

Nestled deep in the cushions of the couch, Sara let Michael's fingers and tongue enrapture her. Waves of pleasure swept over her, cresting again and again into orgasm. She caught Michael's head between her thighs and in the desperate need of her pleasure forced his mouth against her thrusting sex. Sara could sense Michael's want, his greed, as he devoured her. And then she was spent. 

Michael reached down and quickly slipped the mask back over his face while Sara sprawled out on the couch and stretched, like a big, contented cat. "Don't you ever sleep?" she asked, her voice still purring in post-orgasmic bliss.

Michael smiled at her. "I was asleep, but a silent alarm goes off if someone opens a door."

Sara's eyes narrowed, but the smile remained. "That's pretty sneaky of you. I shoulda known." She yawned, stretched again, and then stood.

Michael was still kneeling on the floor, but as he stood he took in the full measure of her grace. Silhouetted in the dark, she was statuesque. The fine sheen of sweat only highlighted the tightness of her frame. When his gaze finally reached her face, he found those green eyes upon him, assessing, calculating.

Sara watched her captor as he gathered himself from the floor and stood. Even in the dark, she could see the awkward bulge in his jeans. She paused. Michael was a bastard, there was no doubting that. Yet he had pleasured her, not just once, but over and over until she could take no more. She could hardly remember a time when someone could bring her to orgasm as effortlessly as he did. Twice now, he had done this. Most men, she well knew, would have expected something in return after the first time. Most wouldn't even wait for her to come down from her own orgasmic high before they pulled it out and stuck it in her face. But here he was, about to leave, and he hadn't given her the first hint of an expectation. He might be a bastard, but she just couldn't let that go.

She stepped up to him, so close they nearly touched, and put a hand on his chest.

"Sara?' he said with a pause.

Her other hand went to the cramped, swollen bulge in his pants. It quickened to her touch.

Michael started, "I don't thin-"

"Shut up," Sara replied, and shoved him down onto the couch.

Before Michael could offer up another protest, Sara's nimble fingers unzipped his fly and freed his throbbing manhood. Cold fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft and began to move up and down. "My, my," Sara quipped as she considered up close the purple, glistening head, "it's been a long time, hasn't it?" She turned her gaze and smiled up at him, white teeth gleaming in the dark. He nodded desperately.

Sara's tongue went to the base of his shaft, and she slid her tongue, heavy against him, from base to tip. Without pause she took the head into her mouth, and her head slowly sank down, take him in his entirety.

Michael squeezed the edge of the couch with both hands.

Sara's lips formed tightly around him, and she began to stroke him with her mouth. Her hands went to his guiding them to the back of her head where they discovered ready purchase in a thick mane of blonde hair. Her lips came up and conformed tightly to the swollen head of his penis. She took the wet shaft in one hand and with it resumed the steady pumping motion. The other hand slipped down and took a firm hold of the dangling sack between his legs. He flinched at that, the way any man does when a woman lays a hand on that most delicate part of the body.

"What's a matter, Michael," she said as her lips left him, "nervous?"

"Should I be?" he said with a shudder. 

"That depends," she mused. "A man is never so focused as when a woman has his nuts in her hand. Not even when she's giving him head."

"This is true," Michael agreed. Despite, or perhaps because of, the uncertainty of his situation, the throbbing between his legs grew. His hands returned to the edge of the couch, but his eyes remained fixed on her. "It seems you have the advantage over me."

Sara smiled at that. "Relax," she purred. Her lips again wrapped around the head of his penis, sucking softly while her tongue ran wet circles around it. She watched while he slowly sank back down into the cushions of the couch, lost in his pleasure. Then she spoke. "I want answers." She gave him a gentle squeeze. His body shuddered in response and his head shot back up to focus on her.

"What do you want to know?" he asked with some effort.

"How many others, before me and Charlotte?" 

He looked down at her, to where she knelt between his legs. In the dark, Sara couldn't quite make out his expression. Was it anger? Arousal? She wasn't sure. She gave his scrotum another squeeze. He groaned, his thighs closing around her narrow frame.

"Three," he gasped out the words. "There were three. You and Charlotte make five in all."

A smile formed at the corner of Sara's mouth. It's nice to be in control, she thought. She leaned down and planted a wet kiss on his cock, breathing in the pungent aroma of seed. "Tell me about them." 

Michael hesitated. Sara held his balls firm in her hand, yet with her lips she massaged the head of his cock. Her eyes were intently fixed upon him. "What do you want me to say?" he said. "The first was a twenty-two year old med student named Megan. I found her in a book store and ah..."

Sara continued to slowly stroke him with her hand. "Go on," she prodded.

"Uh...where was I? Oh. I followed her. Watched her. Eventually I brought her here. There wasn't much, just this one room...I added the others later. Anyway, I kept her here for three weeks, until her spring classes were about to start. Oh god that feels amazing!" he said, panting for breath. "The first week," he continued, "I didn't do much, but slowly I gained courage, until finally I took her. For the last two weeks I made her my sex slave. It was crazy, and I wasn't as prepared for it as I am now, but I was hooked."

"And then, when you were finished with her, what did you do?"

"I...um...let her go of course. I had to do it again, though. It was the most exhilarating thing I had ever done." Michael closes his eyes, thinking only of the massaging stroke of her fingers.

"You like being in control. Don't you, Michael?" She squeezed her hand hard enough to cause his entire body to tense. She didn't wait for a response. "Tell me about the others."

"What's to say?" he said between gasps. "They were about a year apart. Each time I improved my methods...refined the process. By the time I discovered you, I had it down to a science."

Sara's supple hand continued to stroke and massage Michael's cock. Between her mouth and her hand, she kept him on that narrow precipice of arousal, just on the edge of orgasm. His mind, addled with pleasure, bereft of reason, was left defenseless. He spoke, unaware of his words, focused only on her nimble fingers.

"What drew you to me?" she continued. 

Michael laid his head back on the sofa. Sara, afraid he was about to come, relaxed the fingers gripping his member just a bit. The other hand, however, maintained its firm grip on his testicles. 

"I first saw you at a sports bar," he began, lifting his head and looking down at her. "I was captivated by the way you carried yourself, the glint in your eyes, the strength in your voice." As he spoke, trembling fingers ran through her hair and brushed her cheek. "You were sitting with some friends and drinking. I knew right away you were the alpha female, the leader. The other girls admired you, laughed at your jokes, perhaps even desired you. I couldn't take my eyes off you the rest of the night. When you left, I followed you. By now, I was very good at not being seen. I followed you home. Over the next few weeks I continued to study you, learn your habits and patterns. The more I discovered, the more I wanted you to be next."

As he spoke, Sara noticed the intensity of his erection begin to wane, more focused on the past than the present. She replaced her hand with long steady strokes with her tongue. Again she brought him to the ecstasy shrouded edge. 

"What about Charlotte, then?" she asked between those wet caresses. His hips again began to move, instinctively thrusting against the velvet pressure of her tongue. He was staring down at her, 

"I...uh...broke into your apartment one night when you were out on a weekend vacation. I read your journals, learned about Maggie and the others. I was enraptured by your tales of conquest. I had to see it for myself. She wasn't hard to find, you just have to know where to look. The hardest part was making sure of her virginity; I wanted you to be her first experience." 

Sara rose up and released her grip on his testicle; she no longer needed some unspoken threat to control him. Her other hand continued its vigorous piston motion, her thumb massaging the over-stimulated frenulum of his erection. "So you think you can cage me and make me do your bidding like some pet? Is that it, Michael?"

"I...I..." words failed him.

Lubricated by her own saliva, her hands made wet noises as she squeezed and massaged his throbbing, purple cock. "Tell me, Michael. Can you control me? Own me?" She held his gaze with a wicked smile.

For a second, their eyes locked, then he shook his head. "Not you, too much fire in you veins. I can push you but never control..."

"Ask me to make you come." she said, her green eyes sparked by the aforementioned fire.

"What? I..."

"Beg me, Michael," her hand slowed. "I will walk out of this room right now if you don't beg me for it," she said, her voice a fierce whisper.

He hesitated, his words caught in his throat. A look of confusion spread across his face.

Sara smiled at that and sank back down between his legs. This time her mouth took over for her hands. "How long have you fantasized about this, Michael?" she asked between caress. "How many times have you thought about me while you watched through your cameras?"

"Every time," he confessed.

She took him into her mouth and sucked. Michael groaned and thrust himself deeper into her.

"Beg me, Michael," she said, her lips wet with her own saliva and the sticky salt of his own fluids. He let out a groan as she pulled away from him to speak the words. When her tongue returned to sensitive underside of his penis, his hands found the back of her head and pressed her face into him.

Sara jerked away and shook her head. "Hands to yourself, Michael. I'm calling the shots tonight." Reluctantly, he obeyed. She returned, but this time, she ran long lazy strokes up and down the length of his manhood. "Beg me," she said again.

His lips quivered and opened as if to speak, then he clamped them shut. Sara began to suck on the underside of his shaft, just below the head.

Michael groaned again, started to wrap his fingers around her head but stopped himself, forcing his hands back to the couch. Finally, he gave in. "Please Sara. Please make me come."

Sara sat up and straddled his bare thigh. She wrapped a hand around the back of his head and pulled him so close their lips nearly touched. Her other hand began to pump with greater and greater intensity. With each stroke her fingers wrapped around the tip of his head before sliding back down again. He tried to shut out the world and lose himself in the moment, but hazel eyes held his own captive.

Finally there was a sharp intake of breath and his hips began to arch and thrust violently against her strong grip. Her eyes never let his go of his, holding his stare even as he came. She smiled as she felt the hot, sticky fluid dribble down her still pumping fingers. Things would not be the same.

Michael let out a long sigh and at last was able to look away from her.

Sara stood, pausing only to wipe her soiled fingers on his bare thigh. She looked down at Michael as he sat there on the couch, his come soaking down into his pubic hair. A broad grin crossed her face, and she turned and left the room.



...

Sara quietly slipped back to the bedroom, relieved to see that Charlotte did not stir as she did. She tiptoed around the bed and slid underneath the sheets, not stopping to rinse her face at the bathroom sink for fear of waking her. She watched as Charlotte shifted in her sleep and snuggled her warm body up close to hers. Charlotte's hand groped about until it found Sara's and brought it up between her breasts. Sara smiled, for the first time since her kidnapping confident that there had been a change, however slight, to her favor.

Yet, as she slowly drifted off to sleep, she struck by an odd and unexpected emotion: guilt.

She felt as if she'd cheated on Charlotte, deceived her in some way. How would Charlotte feel if she knew that on the same night they'd made love, she had jerked-off their captor? It wasn't like they were a couple. Were they? Not exactly...but they were in this together, so it was almost as if they were. Charlotte certainly would think so. What if Michael told her? She'd lose everything. But...wait a sec. What exactly would she be losing? Why did she care so much about a girl she had only known for a few days? She was only trying to gain the upper hand, gain some advantage over their captor. And it wasn't like she and Charlotte made love, they fucked. What she should be caring about is getting the hell out of here before Michael loses it.

Sara frowned. No, that was a lie, and she knew it. It had been Charlotte's first time. She looked at the girl, the way she had reached for her hand the second she got in bed and pulled it to her. And not just anywhere, between her breasts. No, it wasn't just a fuck, not for Charlotte. Sara sighed. She could never set aside Charlotte's feelings for her own well-being. Damn him to hell for doing this to me, she thought. She could still taste the man on her lips, knew his come had dried on the fingers Charlotte held in her own. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Sara Kierson felt guilt.



Sara's Story Ch. 06



[As always, special thanks to Inkstaine for her excellent and tireless work as editor. Comments and criticisms are welcome. Please take the time to post your thoughts!]

Sunday morning.

Savoring the warmth of the thick comforter, Charlotte watched through half closed eyes as Sara left the bedroom to begin her morning in the gym. She sat up with a stretch and a yawn, and climbed out of bed, carefully wrapping the wrinkled sheet around her as she did. Sara teased her every morning, but there was no way she was going to walk about in the nude when she knew that he watching.

The last few days had been a rush, a roulette of new experiences and emotions. It was so overwhelming that sometimes she felt like she was in a daze, lost in one of those hedge mazes from the movies. Yet whenever it was too much, and she felt like she were about to burst into tears or crumple into a heap on the bed, Sara was right there. Sara was always there. Anytime he came around or told them to do something she just couldn't bring herself to do, Sara would take her by the hand or crack some joke and make all better, and the next thing she knew they'd be snuggled on the couch, Sara laughing at some joke she just didn't quite get.

Then there were the things they did under sheets or in the tub. Well, the things Sara did to her. Ever since that night on the couch, the night he made Sara spank her, the night she kissed her down there, things had changed. She knew that she should feel guilty about it, and part of her did. She could just imagine the things Papa would say, would do, if he knew. But she didn't, at least, not enough to want to stop. Sara made her feel amazing, more than she ever imagined possible. Just thinking about it made her tingle down there and hope that Sara would do those things she did with her mouth and fingers that Papa always said were sinful but felt so, so good. She didn't want it to stop, and she didn't want anyone else to touch her like that. No one but Sara, but especially not him.

Charlotte stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fussing with her hair. No matter how many times Sara told her it looked great, she still couldn't help but fret about it. After a few minutes, she declared a truce with her black curls and reached for the bottle of perfume- the one Sara said smelled great on her. She sprayed a little on her wrist and rubbed them together, then she dabbed a little behind each ear and between her breasts. She paused for a moment, bottle still in hand, and chewed her lip. After a moment's hesitation she lifted the sheet and sprayed just a little of the perfume on her privates, just in case.

Satisfied, Charlotte left the bathroom and went to the closet to choose her outfit for the day. She grabbed the red sheer babydoll with the matching panties. It wasn't the one she would have chosen, but Sara liked it on her, and that was reason enough. She shrank back to the deepest corner of the closet, away from the gaze of the cameras. She let the sheet drop and pulled on the babydoll as quickly as she could. It was silly. She knew that he had already seen her nakedness many times, had watched while Sara...did those things to her that even now made her excited in ways she shouldn't be, but she just couldn't bring herself to be so open about it.

Charlotte heard the door to the bedroom open with a click. Sara's finished early! She thought, and practically bounded out of the closet to greet her.

It wasn't Sara. Charlotte froze in her tracks when she saw Michael standing just inside the swiftly closing door. She could feel the color drain from her face, the pounding of her heart as it beat in her throat. It was hard to breathe.

"Sara's not here," she blurted out, inching away from him and in the general direction of the bed.

"I know," he replied. "I came to talk to you, not Sara." He strode forward and she backed away from him, until the back of her knees hit the bed and she abruptly sat down. Charlotte crawled across to the far side of the bed, never turning her back to him, and wrapped herself up in the comforter.

"What do you want from me?" she asked with a quiver in her chin.

Michael sat at the foot of the bed, affording her plenty of space between them. "Relax, Charlotte, I'm not going to do anything to you. I just want to talk, that's all." His voice was calm and soothing, but she took no comfort in it.

"About what?"

"Sara."

Charlotte's eyes went wide. "What's wrong? Did something happen to her? You didn't do anything bad to her, did you?"

Michael held up a hand. "Calm down, Charlotte, nothing is wrong with Sara, she's fine." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "I only came to offer you some advice."

Charlotte furrowed her brow, "About Sara?"

"How can I say this?" Michael cleared his throat. "It's obvious to me that you have taken to her. Her opinion of you is important to you, isn't it?"

Charlotte nodded, unsure of where this was going.

"Well, Charlotte, as I'm sure you know, Sara is older than you are...and more experienced."

"Yes," she said carefully, "I know."

"Well, when someone is experienced like Sara, and she becomes intimate with another person, she generally expects that the affections she bestows upon her lover will be reciprocated. When that doesn't happen, often she gets frustrated...resentful even, with her lover. You don't want Sara to be resentful with you, do you?"

Charlotte quickly shook her head. "Oh no, I-"

"Do you know that Sara had to sneak out of the room a couple of nights ago to, ah, relieve some of the tension that was building up inside of her?"

Charlotte turned a bright shade of red.

"It's true, and sooner or later she is going to resent the fact that she has given you so much pleasure, and you haven't given her any in return."

Charlotte shook her head again. "But she told me that it was okay, that I could take all the time I needed!"

"Of course that's what she told you, Charlotte, but inside she is going to get angry with you, and sooner or later you'll find that she doesn't like you anymore."

Charlotte felt tears welling up. She turned her head so he wouldn't see. "It's not true. I know Sara likes me very much."

Michael smiled warmly at her. "That's why I came here, Charlotte, to warn you. I know you like her, and she likes you too, but Sara is a grown woman, used to experienced lovers. If I were you, I'd make sure she doesn't have to make anymore secret trips out to the living room."

Charlotte nodded without turning to look at him.

Michael stood. "And Charlotte, one last thing: It's best not to tell Sara about this. If you do, she'll start asking questions, and then what will you say?"

He turned and left Charlotte alone with her thoughts.

Minutes later, Sara walked in, hair still damp from her after-workout shower. "Hey babe," she said with a wide grin, "glad to see you're up. Let's make the bed and grab some breakfast; I'm starved."

Charlotte nodded glumly and untangled herself from the comforter. She tried to keep her head down on her way to the closet to retrieve the sheet so that Sara would not see her puffy, red eyes, but she caught her by the chin as she walked by. "What's wrong?" Sara asked. "Have you been crying? Did Michael do anything to you while I was gone?"

Charlotte quickly shook her head. "No...I...I'm just a little bummed, that's all," she said, staring at her feet.

Sara lifted her chin with her finger until they were looking eye to eye. "Homesick?"

Charlotte hesitated before slowly nodding her head. Instantly she felt a stab of guilt.

Sara wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling her close enough to kiss. "I know how you feel baby, but we're gonna get out of here, I promise," she whispered. "Just don't rush it, okay? Let me worry about Michael, and we'll be free before you know it."

Charlotte nodded. Despite herself, she felt a hot tear run down her cheek. She nuzzled her face next to Sara's, hoping she wouldn't see. God she smells good, Charlotte couldn't help but think, her hands always feel so strong. She lifted her head just enough to bring their lips together and kissed her, long and hard. She wrapped her hands around Sara's waist and pulled their bodies together. She felt Sara's fingers running through her long, black curls. The effect was electrifying. When they finally pulled away, Sara was giving her a sultry stare she knew only too well. "After breakfast," she said, her voice a throaty whisper, "your ass is mine."

"Promise?" Charlotte shot back with a seductive stare of her own.

Breakfast came and went, and afterward, Michael ordered them to the bathroom for their daily bath. As they readied the bathwater, Charlotte swore to herself that this time she would take charge; that she would return the pleasure Sara had been so generously giving her. But as soon as they were in the water, Sara was on her, her mouth and fingers running a dance across her body that made her tingle all over and shot her mind into a perfect orbital bliss. Before she knew it, Sara had her turned around and bent her over. To her embarrassment the cheeks of her butt were spread wide and Sara was kissing her private place...from behind! She hoped to god that she didn't smell, grateful that Sara had chose to take her this way while she was in the bath, but then Sara began to move her tongue in and out of her - the way a man would do with his thing, and she lost all reason. She was dimly aware of Sara's finger, sliding forward to caress the swollen nub on the outside and then she was lost, carried away on a tide of pleasure that left her exhausted and too weak in the legs to do anything other than fall back into the water and gasp for breath.

Sara giggled, that way she always did after she made love to her, and took each nipple in her mouth before planting a soft kiss on her lips that smelled of that hot place between her legs. Charlotte watched Sara climb out of the tub and towel off. She hoped and prayed that she wasn't upset at her, wasn't resentful that she had again failed to return her love. But Sara gave no sign of it, only saying, "You're not gonna lay there all day, are you?" before turning her attention to the clothes Michael laid out for them.

"Check this out," she said, reaching for a pair of men's button up dress shirts. "Looks like Michael has finally gotten over his lingerie kick. About freaking time too, I swear if I have to strap into another corset I'm going postal."

Charlotte climbed out of the tub and toweled off while Sara buttoned up one of the over-sized shirts and slipped on a pair of ankle socks. "Well, how do I look?" she asked, holding out her arms and spinning around.

Charlotte smiled, "Great! Looks a whole lot more comfortable, too."

"Hell yes," Sara agreed.

"Sara, language!" Charlotte chided.

Michael left the alone for the entire day, only stepping in briefly to bring them dinner. They watched movies, munched out on snacks and played video games, which Sara always won, but she didn't mind one bit. Before she knew it, the day was almost gone, and she hadn't made the first move on Sara. She tried, over and over, but just before she got up the nerve to lay a telling hand on her knee, Sara would crack some joke and the moment would be lost. Finally, the night was over, and Sara announced that she was ready for bed.

"Ask Michael for some wine," Charlotte said, needing some liquid courage before she wasted the entire night.

Sara shot back a wicked grin, "Why? In the mood for something?"

Charlotte felt her face get hot, "Maybe," was all she could manage.

In the bedroom, Sara uncorked the bottle and sat down next to her on the bed. Charlotte felt the warmth from the wine spreading out from her tummy to warm her toes and settle her nerves. Sara was still wearing the dress shirt, sipping her wine and looking absently about the room. Her tan legs curled up underneath her on the bed. When they first walked in, Sara had pulled a CD off the shelf and popped it into the player. She told her it was a band called Portishead, and the singer could sing the encyclopedia and make it sexy. After listening to the first song, Charlotte was inclined to agree. Sara threw and arm around her shoulders, but the pair sat there for a moment, content with the music and each others company.

Without warning, Sara turned and started to plant light kisses on the nape of her neck. Charlotte's skin tingled at her touch, and the place between her legs began to warm for a reason that had nothing to do with wine. When Sara began to caress the inside of her thigh, it was almost too much; she was almost swept away by the spell of pleasure that Sara so expertly wove with her mouth and fingers.

But with effort Charlotte regained her composure. She gently but firmly moved Sara's hand away from her thigh and straddled her. She looked up and was shocked into a fit of giggles by the surprised look on Sara's face. "Well well," said Sara, sharing the laugh, "are we taking charge now?"

Charlotte bit her lip to bring her giggles under control and nodded vehemently. "As a matter of fact I am," she said with an air of authority, "it's time for me to give a little back, Sara Kierson."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

Charlotte tried to ignore the pounding in her chest as her nervous fingers worked the buttons of Sara's shirt. She could feel Sara smiling up at her, still sipping her wine, but she was far too anxious to meet those hazel eyes. She heard, or rather thought she heard, Sara suck in her breath as she parted the shirt to reveal firm, pear-shaped breasts. Her nipples were hard and perfectly round, and much smaller than her own saucer sized nipples that she always thought were unattractive.

She faltered, unsure of herself. She knew she wasn't Sara's first, that she had had other lovers- even other girls. She wasn't jealous or bothered at all by that, but how could she hope to compete against them? They knew what they were doing, but she hadn't the slightest idea. She hadn't lied, she had never touched herself down there before. If she didn't know how to please herself, how could she possibly hope to please Sara?

"See something you like, or are you just window shopping?" Sara quipped.

Charlotte realized that she had been blatantly staring at Sara's chest and felt her face flush a bright shade of red. "Sorry. I'm just a little nervous."

A hand went up to stroke her hair. "Don't be, Charlotte. Making love isn't about doing it right or wrong, it isn't about technique or even having a climax, it's about enjoying the touch of your lover, and having a little fun while you're at it. Touch me," Sara beckoned, "and everything else will follow."

Charlotte did as she was told, kissing Sara tenderly, enjoying the way Sara's own taste mixed with the wine, the softness of her lips, the dance of their tongues when they met. Tentative fingers caressed Sara's neck and held her jaw whiled they kissed. Gathering courage, she planted wet kisses on her neck and nibbled her earlobes, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from Sara that invigorated her confidence and spurred her on.

Charlotte ran her fingernails lightly down the center of Sara's chest, followed by a trail of feather soft kisses down to her tummy as she laid down along side her. She worked up the courage to touch Sara's breasts for the first time, hesitant, careful little caresses that ran circles around each one. She watched, mesmerized, as Sara dipped her index finger in her wine glass, as Sara's finger moved from the wine glass to her nipple, as the red juice ran down the underside of her breast. She glanced up to catch Sara's face split wide with a devilish grin. "Well?" Sara teased.

Charlotte lapped up the little pool of wine at the base of Sara's breast, following the red trail up to her nipple, which stiffened even more underneath her tongue. Charlotte caught her nipple between her teeth and very gently began to nibble and suck while she teased the other between her finger and thumb. Sara moaned softly, her free hand finding the nape of Charlotte's neck.

Charlotte shifted her body laid down opposite her partner . She felt the smallest twinge of jealousy as she kissed and nibbled on Sara's stomach, envying her well toned muscles that went taut every time her lips met flesh. Charlotte continued down, her hands found the rounded curve of Sara's hips while her mouth traced the boundary of her pubic line. This close, the scent from between her legs was rich and warm and intoxicating. She could feel wetness between her own legs begin to grow. Sara brought up her knees, her legs slightly parted, and Charlotte sat up to turn her attention from Sara's tummy to her legs.

She ran her fingers up and down Sara's well-toned thighs, again feeling that slight tug of jealousy, of desperate unworthiness. How could someone like Sara, so confident, so sure of herself, so experienced, ever find a simple church girl like herself desirable? Wouldn't she much rather have someone athletic, someone experienced? Sara seemed to sense her unease. Her hand came up and caressed her back, coming to rest with a firm grip on her hip. "You're doing great," was all she said, but Charlotte couldn't help but smile like an idiot under the Sara's intoxicating gaze.

Before she even was aware of it, her fingers strayed down just a little too far, and brushed against the soft mound of Sara's private place. Sara moaned, her legs parting to accommodate her even more. Charlotte's fingers then acted of their own accord, and gently parted those other lips, and she was shocked by how wet she was, by the way her hips arched and rocked against her hand. For the first time, Charlotte experienced the thrill of watching another person writhe with pleasure from her touch. For the first time, she sensed the control she could exert by her finger or mouth, and most importantly, saw the hunger, the need, in Sara's eyes; a need that could only be satisfied by her.

"That's it, love," Sara purred.

Sara's legs were now parted wide, with one leg casually draped across Charlotte's body. Charlotte began to slide her fingers up and down between those red, swollen lips, almost effortlessly because of Sara's wetness and the steady rocking of her hips. She went slowly, concentrating, not wanting to make a mistake or scratch her with a nail. But the motion of Sara's hips intensified, her brow furrowed with pleasure, and a sheen of sweat appeared above her upper lip. Sara's hands sought out Charlotte's free one and brought it to her breast. Charlotte sped up, just a little, anxious that she was going to slow, but afraid of going to fast and messing up. Her heart was pounding in her chest, yet she could feel a different sort of throbbing between her own legs, and hoped that after she was done, Sara would want to touch her as well.

As the seconds ticked by and turned to minutes, Charlotte's nervousness began to wane as her confidence began to rise. Sara's entire body was in motion now, even her toes curled every time she touched that swollen little bud at the edge of Sara's privates. Her fingers slid down; she hadn't worked up the courage yet to actually put them inside her, but she desperately wanted to. Her fingers circled and then penetrated that entrance, just a little bit, but Sara quickly shook her head.

"No...not yet love. I'm so close...up, up just a little- oh god yes that's it!" Sara practically screamed as Charlotte drew her fingers up and began to stroke that spot that gave Sara so much pleasure. "Don't stop!" Sara begged as her hips thrust over and over against her hand. All of a sudden, Sara's face and chest flushed with color. Her body lifted from the bed so that only her feet and shoulders touched. "Oh god, Yes!" she screamed in pleasure as Charlotte desperately tried to keep up with the rocking of her hips.




Sara's Story Ch. 06



Charlotte was amazed at the sight of Sara's passion. Never did she imagine that she could give another person so much pleasure. She felt...empowered. She remembered how ticklish that little spot was after Sara made her come, and so she moved her fingers and circled that spot instead, until the Sara's hips stopped rocking back and forth. As Sara slowly settled back down onto the bed, her eyes opened, and her hand reached for Charlotte's. "That was amazing, Charlotte. Are you sure that was your first time?"

Charlotte nodded and smiled, eyes full of adoration. "Yes, very first time."

Sara giggled, her face still flushed in post-orgasmic bliss. "You're a natural then." Then Sara's eyes narrowed and she flashed that wicked smile of hers. "You wanted to finger me, didn't you?"

Charlotte blushed and tried to hide her face behind Sara's knees. "I did not!"

Sara shrugged, "Okay, but just so you know, I like to come on the outside, and then on the inside."

"Oh," said Charlotte. She then slid her middle finger inside Sara, who immediately gasped and pulled Charlotte down next to her.

"Two fingers," Sara whispered between heavy, wet kisses along Charlotte's neck.

Charlotte did as she was asked. Lost in the passion of the moment, in the heady scent of their love, the rocking of Sara's hips against her thrusting hand, the heat from their bodies as their flesh became one, she hardly noticed Sara's fingers slip between her legs and into her slick, throbbing sex. She only realized that, as Sara cried out again in her pleasure that she was crying out too, that their bodies became a single, tangled mass of sweaty limbs and thrusting hips and desperate, searching fingers. It was all Charlotte could do to keep her eyes open, fixed upon her lover, as she came again and again, until they both were too exhausted to continue.

When it was finally over, the blankets crumpled in a heap at the foot of the bed, Charlotte lay spread out, opposite her lover, her head resting upon Sara's open thigh. Sara was giggling, the way she always did when she...when they, made love. Now Charlotte knew why. She couldn't help but smile, amazed at the beauty of her partner, enjoying her touch, the sticky sweet residue on her fingers, her scent, and most of all her attention focused solely on her.

All of a sudden, Sara stopped giggling and sat up on an elbow to look at her. "There's been something I've been meaning to ask, but I never seem to find right time."

"Now's good."

"Remember that night that Michael made me spank you?"

"How could I forget? It's the first time you made love to me."

Sara giggled, "Yes, but that's not what I was thinking about."

"Oh? I thought it was special!" Charlotte replied, feigning offense.

"Oh cut it out!" Sara shot back, adding quick slap on her backside for emphasis.

"Ow!"

"Now pay attention, I'm being serious. You whispered something to me, just before I spanked you. What did you say?"

Charlotte blushed despite herself. "I said that I wanted you to do it and not him."

Sara's eyes narrowed. "And?"

"And what?"

"Don't play with me, Charlotte, you said something else, I just couldn't make it out."

Charlotte shrugged and sucked her fingertip, "I guess you should have paid more attention," she mused with a devious grin.

Sara flopped back down on the bed and crossed her arms. "Fine, be that way! It's not my fault you whispered."

Charlotte chewed her nail, and then, hesitantly, said, "I said 'I love you'".

Sara quickly sat back up on her elbow. "Do you?"

"Yes."

"But how? We've only known each other a few days."

"So, I just do. It's okay, Sara, you don't have to love me back. I don't even know why I told you. But I liked you from the start; at that moment I realized I love you. So I said it."

Sara sat there for several minutes, not saying a word. Finally, she smiled. "You know, for an eighteen year-old church girl who's been raised by over-protective parents, you're pretty, you know, real."

Now it was Charlotte's turn to chuckle. "Since it's confession time, there's something I've been wanting to do for a long time."

"What?"

In one quick motion, Charlotte slid forward and buried her face between Sara's legs. Sara burst into laughter, but did not make the first attempt to thwart her intentions. 



Sara's Story Ch. 07



[This is the final installment of this story. I hope you all have enjoyed reading about Sara, Charlotte and Michael as much as I have enjoyed writing about them. 

As always, I'd like to thank Inkstaine for her patient and faithful editing. I couldn't do it with you!

I've started a thread at literotica for discussion of this story. If you'd like to comment, please go   here.

Thanks everyone!]

Tuesday Evening...

Sara undressed in front of the bathroom mirror. She watched, a mere spectator, as her hands worked the buttons of her shirt and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes considered her naked form. Not bad, she thought, for a twenty-eight year old, but certainly a long way from seventeen. She took the wineglass from the counter and drank. The glass trembled in her hand as she sat it back down, empty. In the bedroom just beyond the closed doors, she could hear the catchy beat of a def cab tune; Charlotte was waiting for her. Sara absently reached for the glass again, remembered it was empty, and set it back down. Her gaze went from her body, then to the brown paper bag sitting on the counter top, and then to Michael.

The conversation had been brief enough.

"Today's the day," he announced, interrupting her morning workout.

"For?" Sara asked as she stepped off the exercise bike and wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel. He handed her a paper bag. She took it and peeked inside. "I don't think so," she said, her lip curled into a frown.

"I do."

"There are other ways to do this," Sara began, but Michael cut her off before she could continue. "I know, but this is what I want."

"Why is it always about penetration with men?"

"Do you want to go home?" he shot back. Sara returned his stare, and for a moment their eyes locked in some unspoken contest. Finally, she faltered and looked away.

Michael let out a sigh. "This is it, Sara. The last thing I will ever ask you to do. Once it's over, I'll take you home and you can get on with your life."

She looked back up at him then, the glint of fire in her hazel eyes. "You think it's going to be that easy? That Charlotte and I can just go on like this never happened? Things will never be the same for us. Not for me, but especially not for her." She felt hot tears at the corners of her eyes and looked away.

Michael began to chuckle. She spun on her heel, furious, but when he saw her the indignant expression on her face, he erupted into full blown laughter.

"What's so fucking funny?"

"C'mon Sara, seriously," he said with some effort. "She wants you to be her first. She was practically begging you for it last night. You are the one that is holding back, not her. What are you afraid of?"

"You're making a spectacle of it." A flimsy reply, she knew.

"You are head over heels for her."

"That's beside the...I am not!" Sara folded her arms across her chest.

"You're such a terrible liar, Sara. Just admit it. You like Charlotte...she virtually worships you. What the hell are you waiting for?"

"I...I..."

"Tonight," he said, and left. She slammed her fist into the punching bag, cursing her slow tongue.

Sara spilled the contents of the bag onto the counter: A blue paisley strap-on harness, a red vibrator made for two, and a tube of lubricant. Everything was high quality, the best that money could buy. Bastard he may be, but Michael spared no expense.

She had waited until after dinner to tell Charlotte. They were sitting on couch. Charlotte's legs were thrown over Sara's lap, and she had her hand between Charlotte's thighs. "But I thought you already did that?" Charlotte replied when she told her what Michael wanted them to do tonight. In retrospect, Sara thought, she shouldn't have been surprised that Charlotte had never seen a vibrator before.

"No, Charlotte...I mean, yeah, that was your first time, but that wasn't going, you know, all the way."

Charlotte gave her a wry half-smile, "Girls can't go all the way, Sara. I know that much, sheez."

Then Sara showed her the contents of the brown paper bag and she did exactly what Sara did the first time she saw a strap-on: erupt into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Sara couldn't help but laugh with her; it was infectious. When she finally recovered her composure, her eyes settled upon the vibrator in Sara's hand. "It looks kinda weird. Does he have anything smaller?"

A smile crossed Sara's face when she realized what was puzzling her. "It's made for two, Charlotte."

"Huh?"

Sara held up the harness. "I'm supposed to wear this. The vibrator fits inside...right there." She pointed to the opening, and then to the short end of the vibrator. "See how it's a little offset? This end goes inside me. With the other end...well, that's for you."

Charlotte turned the dildo over in her hands. "So we will be feeling pleasure together...at the same time?"

Sara nodded with a smile.

"And it vibrates?"

Sara thumbed the remote, turning it to the highest setting.

"Ah!' Charlotte gasped as she dropped it in her lap and burst out laughing at herself. "Don't do that!," she cried, and gave Sara a playful shove.

Sara found herself staring at Charlotte in amazement. A few days ago, the girl was convinced that if someone saw her naked she would burn in hell. Now she was enthralled with the latest in sex toy technology. She never would have guessed that the timid girl crying on her shoulder the first night would now be her lover, or that her own feelings for her would grow so quickly.

"Charlotte," she said, "are you sure you want to do this?"

Charlotte answered by throwing her arms around her and kissing her. "I want you," she said when she finished. "I want you to be my first. I don't care who is watching or who knows, as long as it's with you."

In the bathroom, Sara took the vibrator and fitted it to the harness. As she stepped into the harness and methodically fastened the straps, she couldn't help but shake her head. Michael knew her too damn well. The first time she'd seen a strap-on was watching porn with her first girlfriend, Maggie. They gave each other a look, and the next day they were taking turns fucking each other with it. After Maggie, every girl she could get in the sack got a taste of it, the power trip was as addictive as crack. She didn't even care if she got off, so long as she got to watch the girl writhing in passion to the steady thrust of her hips. She never guessed that this is what Michael had in mind, but now it seemed perfectly obvious. Of course he'd want to watch this, it's always about penetration with men. Not that she could argue with that one particular gendered obsession.

Sara rubbed the small end of the vibrator with a little bit of lubricant and carefully guided it inside. She tightened the straps, making sure it was secure, and took one last look at herself in the mirror. Despite the erect red vibrator jutting up from between her legs like one of the Queen's men, she looked good. Sara opened the door and stepped into the bedroom. For the second time today, Charlotte burst into a fit of laughter. Somewhere in the back of Sara's mind, she wondered if all men felt this awkward when they walked around in front of their girls with their cocks all stiff and swaying.

When Charlotte emerged from underneath the sheet, her face still bright red from laughter, Sara was standing at the end of the bed with her hands on her hips. Charlotte tried to stifle her giggles, but a chuckle or two managed to escape before she could get herself under control.

"Laugh it up while you can, little girl."

Charlotte made a mock frown, "Aww, did I make you mad?"

Sara beckoned Charlotte forward with a finger. There was no hint of humor in her eyes, but a hungry little smile danced across her lips. Charlotte lost all whimsy, crawling across the bed and sitting at the end. Looking down into the doe-like eyes of her lover Sara felt the familiar stirring between her legs. The vibrator was just inches from the girl's chin. Sara traced the curve of Charlotte's lip with her finger. "Kiss it," she said.

Charlotte gave her a quizzical look. "But why?"

"Because I told you to."

Charlotte nodded and leaned forward. Her black curls covered Sara's lap, but Sara could feel the vibrator move inside her when Charlotte took hold of it, felt the pressure against the wall of her vagina as Charlotte's lips closed around the red shaft. Sara let out a small gasp. She filled her hands with Charlotte's hair and pressed the girl's face down into her. Charlotte wrapped her arms around Sara's waist and squeezed her ass with both hands. When Charlotte looked up, Sara could see the desire in her gaze. She couldn't wait to feel her legs wrapped around her own, watch her squirm and gasp with each thrust of her hips.

"Lie down," Sara commanded, "I want to look at you."

Charlotte did as she was told, and stretched out on the sheets. "Good," Sara said, "you are so beautiful, Charlotte. I can't wait to make you mine. Now show me everything." Charlotte smiled wide and giggled, causing her breasts to sway seductively. Then she brought her knees up and spread her legs, giving Sara a full view of her most intimate place. "I hope you like what you see, Sara," she whispered.

Sara sat next to her, her hands running up and down Charlotte's inner thigh. "I do. I like it very much, and I want it to be mine."

Charlotte's smile faded to a small, playful frown. "It already is."

Sara began to kiss Charlotte's belly. She could feel the quivering tension of her lover, the nervous anticipation that was building up inside her. As her kisses traveled upward and began to climb her soft breasts, Sara could feel the beating of her heart, a heartbeat that quickened when she took the girl's nipple into her mouth and began to suck. Charlotte groaned. Her legs went completely limp and splayed open on the bed, inviting Sara's searching hand.

All of a sudden Sara gave a sharp gasp as the vibrator inside of her came to life. She looked up and saw the remote in Charlotte's hand. "How'd you get that?" she growled.

Charlotte flashed a devilish grin. "I saw it in your corset and took it when you weren't looking."

"Gimmie that you little thief!" Sara replied reaching for the tiny remote, but it disappeared into Charlotte's clenched fist.

"Nope! This is mine," she said with a telling smile. "I can't touch you with that thing in the way, but now I can pleasure you just the same."

Sara buried her face in Charlotte's ample breasts while the vibrator hummed quietly inside her. She had to give Michael credit, he obviously did his research. The vibrator was small, but it positioned so that neither the inside nor the outside of her privates could escape its constant, tortuously steady hum. Her face began to flush as desire slowly gave way to lust. She planted soft, wet kisses across Charlotte's chest, then her neck, before nibbling on the tender skin of her ear. Their legs intertwined; Sara brought her thigh up and began to rock back and forth against Charlotte's vulva. She moaned, arching her back as Sara wrapped her arms around her and brought her up to tease her breasts again with tongue and teeth.

Sara laid Charlotte back down on the pillows, stringing kisses down her stomach, drawing a narrow line around her bellybutton with her tongue before continuing down to her hips and thighs. Charlotte groaned and rocked her hips, but when Sara's lips drew in the moist flesh of her labia, she reached down and caught her chin. "No, Sara, not this time," she begged.

"But I want to," Sara pleaded between kisses.

"And I want you up here with me, not down there. Please?"

"But how am I going to-"

"Fingers?" Charlotte offered.

Sara flashed an accusatory smile as she moved up and laid across Charlotte's side, propping herself up on an elbow. "You've turned into such a naughty little girl, Charlotte. What's papa going to think when he finds out you've become a lesbian?" Her fingers lightly traced the outline of her vulva, eliciting a sharp gasp.

Charlotte turned her head and gently nuzzled Sara's strong shoulder. "But I'm not a lesbian," she whispered to her lover.

"Oh you're not? I think the facts speak otherwise," Sara teased. Her fingers slipped in between Charlotte's labia. She was shocked at how wet the girl was, but she could also feel the wetness between her own legs as the vibrator continued its relentless work.

"No," Charlotte smiled up at her, her face perfectly framed by dark curls. "A lesbian is a girl who likes other girls. I don't like other girls, Sara, I like you."

Sara couldn't help but smile. "You do realize I am a girl, right?"

As if in response, Charlotte took Sara's breast in her hand and squeezed. "Yes, I realize that, but it's different. I love you. If you left me, I wouldn't want another girl, I'd just want you. So I'm not a lesbian, I'm just a girl who is in love with someone who just happens to be another girl." Sara's finger found the swollen nub of Charlotte's clitoris, and she began to tease it with light, fast caresses. It didn't take long. Seconds later Charlotte arched her back and squeezed her eyes shut in a grimace of pleasure. Her hand desperately searched for Sara's, and upon finding it, held it tightly. Charlotte was perfectly silent in her climax, but her body betrayed the intensity of her pleasure. Sara watched, mesmerized, as her entire body quaked with each stroke of her finger.

Then, to Sara's surprise, Charlotte slid her hand underneath her side and pulled Sara close and then on top of her. Sara let Charlotte guide her body, reveling in the feel of Charlotte's soft flesh underneath her own, intoxicated by the quick, nervous breaths she felt on her neck. Yet as anxious as her lover was, she was far from timid. Charlotte wrapped her legs around Sara's waist and hooked her feet, pressing their bodies close. For a long time, Sara was content to kiss and caress her lover, stringing kisses across the line of her jaw, her neck and earlobes. She sucked in her lips, and nibbled her chin and ran her hands up and down her sides. "Are you comfortable?" she asked hesitantly.

Charlotte nodded, "I like the feel of your weight on me, I love being underneath you, Sara."

Sara's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I'm fat?"

Charlotte burst into a fit of giggles, "Oh shut-up!"

Sara kissed her again, long and hard. "Are you ready?"

Charlotte nodded with a smile and a kiss of her own.

Sara reached down, between their legs, and positioned the vibrator. She couldn't help but notice how relaxed Charlotte's body was, remembering her first time; how her legs locked up like a vice when he first tried to put it in her. She just hoped that she wouldn't be as clumsy; at least he could feel what he was doing. She drew the tip of the vibrating head up and down Charlotte's privates before carefully resting it at the entrance of her vagina. She held her hips steady, hoping the damn thing wouldn't slip out of place before she was ready. She looked at Charlotte, and found her looking in her eyes, chewing her lip in expectation. Then she felt the steady throb of the vibrator increase in intensity, and Charlotte's expression changed from nervousness to mischief.

"You're making it awfully hard to concentrate," Sara gasped.

Charlotte only shrugged, "I want you enjoy this, too."

"I am," she replied, taking Charlotte's head in her hands and kissing her.

"You know what I mean," she whispered, looking up at her with those large, intoxicating eyes so innocent and at the same time so seductive.

Sara looked down at Charlotte and held her gaze. She gently arched her hips, and Charlotte gave a plaintive little cry and wrapped her arms around Sara, squeezing her tightly. She pushed harder, and felt the resistance give way as the vibrator slid deeper into her lover. Charlotte cried out and buried her face into Sara's shoulder. "Do you want me to stop?"

Charlotte shook her head fiercely. "No," she whispered, "keep going..." Sara began to thrust, slowly, carefully. Each time Charlotte grimaced. Sara couldn't tell if it was pleasure or pain, but knew from experience that it was both. She also felt her own pleasure growing, more now from watching Charlotte then from the device inside her. She started to speed up, thrusting deeper and faster. Charlotte's hands went to Sara's lower back, her hips began to rock and grind in unison with her lover. She looked up and opened her eyes, and Sara caught her breath; tears were streaming down Charlotte's face, but the look in her eyes was pure adoration.

Then she closed her eyes and her head rolled back as her entire body went rigid. "Oh god, Sara, please don't stop. I'm coming...I'm coming for you." And then Sara to was lost, swept away in the pleasure of the moment. Their bodies became one, flesh intertwined, minds lost in a tangle of searching fingers, thrusting hips and eager, hungry mouths.

At last, Sara rolled off her lover and stared at the ceiling, her breath coming in ragged gulps. But she was given no respite. Charlotte was on her, tearing the corset off her and not-too-gently removing the vibrator. Sara tried in vain to stop her, but before she could react, Charlotte's face was between her legs, lost somewhere underneath a unruly mop of black hair. Then Sara let out a long, contented sigh, put her hands behind her head and contented herself with her lover's agile tongue. Her eyes strayed, just for a moment, to the red stain on the sheets. She hoped, in all earnestness, that she could reciprocate all the affection, all the love that Charlotte had for her. She then closed her eyes, and let the pleasure take her.

An hour later Charlotte was sleeping soundly on her shoulder. As Sara drifted off, she wondered what the next day would bring. When would Michael release them? Would he keep his word, or, she dreaded to think, kill them? She let the thought slip from her mind. Michael may be a lot of things, but she didn't think he was a killer. He just didn't have it in him. Then her mind began to wander to more pressing problems. What happens now? Would Charlotte go back home and forget about her? If she did, wouldn't it be better just to let her? Did she really love her, or was it just the pressure, the uncertainty of the moment that made Charlotte feel the way she did?

These are the questions that were on Sara's mind in the quiet of the night. But sleep finally took her; the heavy sleep that comes after a night of good lovemaking. And then, after that, the death-like sleep of the medically sedated.

Two months later...

Sara rounded the corner to her street, and slowed from a jog to a fast walk. Even though it was a cool morning, she was dripping sweat. She looked up at the bright sun and a wide smile spread across her face. The sun looked damn good after so long in Michael's dungeon. She turned from the street to the little sidewalk that led up to her front door and stopped dead. On the porch, resting against the door, was a small package wrapped in brown paper. She looked up and down her street, but saw no one. She stepped up onto the porch and picked up the little package, turning it over in her hand.

She took another look around. The cops stopped coming by a month ago. A reporter or two had come slinking around, looking for a story, but she sent them all away; they weren't getting a damn thing from her. Then the men from Charlotte's old church started. First to see Charlotte, but when that failed, to see her. That didn't last past the first visit.

"No, I'm not interested in a church membership"

"Miss Kierson, you and Sister Roy have been through so much. Please reconsider. Pastor Roy has expressed his willingness to forgive any...lapses in judgment. You owe it to yourself and Sister Roy to seek spiritual healing after the trauma you both endured."




Sara's Story Ch. 07



Then she felt a hand on her bare knee. Charlotte's hand. Sara smiled. "I have all the healing I need right here, Mister Donaldson."



Then there was no one coming around...besides her mom, and for that she was thankful. Satisfied that no one was watching her, she went inside and locked the door behind her. Charlotte would still be asleep, so she quietly slipped off her running shoes, padded silently into the small living room and plopped down on the couch. She tore the wrapping off the package and discovered an unmarked DVD in a plain jewel case. She shrugged, popped it into the player and flicked on the TV.

As she guessed, it was from Michael. It was professionally done, nicely edited with a menu and everything. It started from the beginning, with her strapped to the chair, and went through every encounter, every coupling, down to the last night when she took Charlotte's virginity. Sara watched with the volume turned down until she heard the bathroom door close. She turned off the TV, leaving the DVD in the player. She had to decide when...if she would show Charlotte. Sara grabbed the brown wrapper and took it to the kitchen trash. Just before she dropped it in, she noticed a note that had been written in careful handwriting on the inside.

"Sara,

This is the last time I will contact you. I thought you and Charlotte might enjoy a little something to remember your time with me. I sincerely hope that the two of you are happy, and have a good life together. Be safe. I will not attempt to see you again.

Michael"

She turned the wrapping over one more time, making sure there was nothing else on it, and read the note one last time. "Not going to see me again, eh?" she muttered to herself, "that's what you think, you bastard."

She dropped the paper in the trash and poured herself a cup of coffee.