Julie and Agatha met in the park to talk. It was clear to both, hell, to anyone with eyes, that the two women were strongly attracted to one another. It was also just as self-evident that they were as different as night and day.
Julie was dressed provocatively, as was her habit. Today’s ensemble amounted to a micro-mini-skirt covered by a long coat, and a turtleneck blouse that revealed every curve of her bounteous breasts. Agatha was her a polar opposite, emphasis on the iciness, in a demure gown that reached her ankles.
“We’re like night and day!” Julie remarked with a dismissive toss of her long red hair.
“But still, there’s this undeniable attraction…” Agatha replied. “I’m smitten with you!”
Julie did not reciprocate this sentiment with words. She WAS mightily attracted to Agatha at her essence, but there was this prim and proper outer layer that Julie found difficult to get past.
“What if I were to tell you that I think there is something fundamental that links us…” Agatha said. “Please, sit down…” Julie perched on that perfect, porcelain posterior, her pretty, big eyes staring at Agatha, her pert, heaving tits mirroring her gaze. “I sense that underneath your flirtatious demeanor is a girl craving structure, even more, craving control…” Julie shifted on the park bench uncomfortably. It was like her friend had read her mind, saw into her soul. “I think that pervades your whole being, Julie, is who you are… sexually…”
“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Julie confessed for the first time.
“And what if I were to tell you that, at my essence, underneath all this…” and she gestured with a sweeping arm across all of her prim and proper outer image, “is a woman afraid of her passionate nature, afraid of her undeniable sexual impulses to dominate, to control… even to punish, to cause pain, to demean and humiliate…”
Two sets of eyes were locked on their opposite’s eyes, two pairs of boobies heaved all the more rapidly because of shallow, labored breathing, two tongues licked lips that were suddenly parched.
“I’d say… that we should… take things to the next level…” Julie said, the longing in her soul palpable in her voice. She rushed into Agatha’s arms. If it were up to her, they would have made-out right there in the open.
Agatha’s demeanor reined-in Julie’s impetuousness. “Wait until I get you home…!” she said, taking Julie’s hand, implying that they should delay gratification until behind closed doors, but also that it’d be decadently disciplinary when they did attain privacy.
Agatha’s home, Julie discovered, was an extension of the Domme’s demeanor, Victorian and orderly. As soon as the sitting room’s doors were shut, mouths kissed, hands fondled, Julie’s clothes were removed. Agatha ceremoniously collared Julie, put cuffs on her wrists and ankles. Julie suspected that all of these manacles could be used to restrain her.
“I hope you’ll be gentle with me,” Julie whispered. “It’s my first time with a woman, doing this…”
“I promise that we’ll do only what you desire…” and she sat on a divan and helped the long-haired beauty lie over her lap. “You’ve been with other women in the past, but never spanked…?”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s correct on both counts,” Julie answered, disappointment evident in her voice. She felt her friend’s hands wandering over her epidermis, caressing curves, patting and pinching Julie’s pulchritude, parting her posterior. Her touch was heavenly.
“Have you been with men?”
“Just one,” Julie answered. “It… wasn’t everything I’d hoped…”
“Well, you’re going to get a spanking now…”
“Yes, ma’am…” and there was elation and euphoria evident now.
Agatha, being an experienced and caring Top, watched her charge closely as she punished, slowly and deliberately spanking at first, then letting it increase in velocity and severity, until the alabaster paleness was flaming red, and both women were heated.
“There will be more to come, but we’ll give you a little respite, let you absorb, let you reflect,” Agatha said, patting the plump bottom as a signal that Julie could sit up. “Take my gown off me, strip me as nude as you are,” she instructed, and the submissive hastened to obey.
Julie was stunned as she undid buttons and unclipped fasteners. Agatha was gorgeous, slender and fit, but womanly, and clearly very aroused. Now that her gown and all underclothes were off, she slid down to the edge of the divan’s seat cushion, on the pile of her black garments, so that her sex was exposed and accessible.
“Look at what you’ve done,” Agatha stated in an imperious tone. She parted her thighs and used both hands to open her engorged blossom, showing how wet she was. “Lick me, lick me clean.” As soon as Julie’s tongue tickled the pink-petaled flower, she articulated all the more, “Oh, yes, lick me, that’s it… You do that so well, Julie! …Yes!”
They couldn’t be more different, in appearances, in orientation, in past experiences. Yet, that was what united them, a short-haired and slender Top with her long-tressed, voluptuous sub. Agatha dominated with a knowledgeable and stern hand, Julie was willingly led, compliant and eager. They were as well matched as a pair of prancing fillies pulling a Hanson cab.
(I wanted to let Agatha’s Old World demeanor pervade this piece, let it influence everything, as it is her “friend” Julie. I hope you enjoy, as these two are!)