Published 4 years ago
A couple of months after my seventeenth birthday, I discovered three things. The first was that I am a lesbian; the second was that I have an eager appetite for sex – I’ll spread my legs for almost any woman, any time; the third was not just that I am a slut, but a bondage slut – that I get my biggest thrills from being tied up and taken by another woman (better still, by women in the plural). The first was not a great surprise, but the other two were! This is how it all happened.
I lived then in a small country town, a few miles inland from the south coast of England. It is not a tourist resort, but it tends to attract better-off people as a pretty and peaceful base for seeing the countryside and the coast, and there are three or four medium-size and good quality hotels. These, and a few shops and cafes in the town square, were the only places that local teenagers could get part-time jobs on weekends or in the holidays, and there was a lot of competition for them.
Now I need to tell you about Kate, who had been my best friend since we met at the age of eleven, when we both started at secondary school (basically what in the USA is called high school, but it covers the ages from 11 to 18). Kate was quite tall – by the time she was 16, she was five feet ten inches – and had a lovely slim figure: the words lithe and lissom could have been invented for her. Her breasts started growing earlier than mine but quite slowly, so they were nicely pert but not all that large. She had light brown hair with some hints of auburn, and striking greenish eyes; she was full of energy – quite sporty – and nearly always laughing about something. We had a lot of fun together, but for the previous year or more I had found myself thinking about her, and sometimes looking at her, in ways that were rather warmer than even being best friends. When these events happened, my doubts about my sexual orientation had recently been stirred up by an incident with Kate.
Before going into that, I should describe myself at this time. I was shorter than Kate – my height was about five foot six inches – but I had developed a fuller figure. This had happened rather rapidly, and during the previous six to eight months I had really blossomed out. I always had a nice butt, in fact for a long time I thought it was my best feature: there was no excess weight at all, my hips had a shapely flare with buttocks that were taut and well-rounded. Now I began to realise why, as the jut of my ass was balanced by the growth of my chest into two swelling and shapely breasts, giving me a figure more like someone in their early 20s, with quite a cleavage and a profile that was eye-catching but not too overloaded. I have brown eyes with long lashes, and straight dark hair which falls to just below my shoulders.
Kate had become fascinated by the growth of my breasts, especially as she helped me shop each time I needed a larger size of bra. One evening we were alone at my house (I’m an only child, and my parents were out at a party until late) and messing about, when she asked to see them. I took off my t-shirt and bra, and was a bit startled when she then requested to touch them, explaining that she wanted to see if they felt different from her ones. I felt a little shy but also excited, like it was a dare, and said OK – if I can do the same. That surprised her, but she nodded as she could see it was only fair, and so she stripped off above the waist. Then, with a little hesitation and quite a lot of giggles, she took one of my breasts in each hand and started to stroke and squeeze them. It was an extraordinary feeling, and became even more so when – after a minute or so of paralysis – I did the same with hers. Both of us started breathing a bit heavier, and I remember suddenly realising that I was standing in my bedroom with my best friend, both of use nude from the waist up, fondling each other’s breasts. Unfortunately, I then lost my nerve, dropping my hand from her beautiful thrusting tits, and stepping backwards with a laugh. I made some sort of silly joke about it, and we quickly turned our attention to other things, although a few times I noticed her regarding me quizzically when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Not long before this, Kate had landed a Sunday job working at the largest and most exclusive of the hotels. It seemed generously paid and I envied her the extra money which it gave her, and the smart clothes she bought with it. So when, a couple of weeks after the breast-fondling incident, she told me there was another vacancy coming up and she could get me the job if I wanted it, I said ‘oh! yes – please!’, and gave her a big hug. Sure enough, she spoke to the owner, Miss Foster, and two days later I was seated in her office, being interviewed and then – as it seemed I was suitable – being told a bit more about the job. I didn’t quite take it all in, which at the time I put down to excitement at getting the coveted job, but in hindsight I think it was as much excitement about Miss Foster. She was in her late 30s, maybe near to forty, and kept herself trim and exercised. She was almost as tall as Kate, but with the fuller build of a mature woman. Her figure was partly hidden by the severe cut of the trouser and jacket business suit that she was wearing, but enough was visible to suggest there were curves where there should be. Her hair was dyed blonde, with some streaks of brown from the roots; it only came down to her collar, but was layered in a feminine ‘professional executive’ style. Although she was generally quite brisk and business-like (partly due to being efficient and well-organised), she was far from cold in her manner – it was more vigorous and confident, and she had a lot of charisma.
When the interview was finished, Miss Foster showed me round the hotel so that I would know where to go when I began work the following Saturday. The hotel had a long front section, built in the 1930s, with the kitchen, restaurant, bar and lounge on the ground floor, and guest bedrooms on the first and second floors. At one end of this, forming an ‘L’ shape, was a much newer block which Miss Foster had built about twelve years ago, not long after taking over the hotel when her parents retired. The extension had two floors, and there was just one doorway on the ground floor which led through from the older section. The ground floor of the extension had a number of single rooms and then at the far end were Miss Foster’s personal living rooms (her office was in the front main block); the upper floor of the new section was all bedrooms – mostly doubles. All the guest rooms in the hotel were quite large – actually more so in the new block – and comfortably furnished, and had en suite bathrooms. Miss Foster told me that the new section was called the Ladies’ Wing, because only female guests were booked into it. She explained that quite a lot of professional women found it more relaxing to stay in a part of the hotel where there were no men or couples, and that she had found this a profitable attraction – she said there were now quite a few women who came regularly, and recommended it to their friends. This was all true, but (as I was to find out) not quite for the innocent reasons that Miss Foster told me then!
We then walked into the original part of the hotel to the housekeeper’s room – this was Miss Foster’s main assistant, a thin blonde woman in her early 30s whom I was introduced to as Miss Deacon. She seemed a bit harassed and busy, but gave me a pleasant smile as she looked me over and then deftly measured me for my uniform. She produced from her store cupboard a maid’s uniform for me to try on, and I rather shyly took off my jeans and sweater. I felt a little uncomfortable with the eyes of the two women watching me as I stood for a few seconds in just my simple white bra and panties, and so I quickly slipped into the maid’s uniform. Miss Deacon knew her job, as it was a good fit but not restrictive for working in. The main part was a one-piece black dress which opened by a zipper from the collar to the small of the back; it had short sleeves, and the skirt came down to an inch or two above my knees. There was a separate white apron which fastened around the waist and over the shoulders, and a small black-and-white cap. Miss Foster asked me to turn round slowly, and nodded her satisfaction. She told me the uniform would be provided by the hotel and cleaned by them; I would come to and from work in my own clothes, and there was a room between the housekeeper’s and the kitchen where the staff got changed and had lockers for their personal items. I was instructed to wear black sensible flat shoes and black stockings – Miss Foster told me with particular emphasis not to wear tights, saying that the cleaning work made them too sweaty and the guests would notice the smell: her strict rule was either hold-up stockings or (best of all, she said) the traditional suspender belt with clips and old-fashioned stockings. Of course, at that point I didn’t know the real reason for her rule, and took her explanation at face value.
I would be working all day on Saturday, starting with serving breakfasts, then room cleaning, then serving lunches and dinners (the restaurant did quite a lot of business with non-residents); in the afternoon there would be a couple of hours break, but also other cleaning and general chores. I started on the next weekend, a month after my seventeenth birthday, and within a few weeks had got used to it and familiar with the other staff. I didn’t think it odd that they were all female: only Miss Foster and Miss Deacon actually lived at the hotel, and the others came in to work. There were half a dozen other local girls who helped out on the weekends and in the school holidays, which were the busiest times; I knew most of them from my school, apart from two who attended a private school in the next town. The only drawback was that Kate worked on Sunday, and so we only saw each other on Friday nights – by the time I finished on Saturday or she did on Sunday, we were too tired and it was too late to do anything other than go home.
It was on my sixth or seventh Saturday that my world changed for ever. The breakfasts had all been served in the dining room, when Miss Foster called me over and gave me a tray laden with two breakfasts. ‘I nearly forgot! she said; ‘take this to room L16, and then you may as well take a break for forty-five minutes – it’s too early to start on cleaning rooms’. I set off, a little bit intrigued as all the rooms with the letter L were in the Ladies’ Wing, which I had hardly set foot in since being shown round after the interview. L16 was on the upper floor, and in fact was one of the largest of the double bedrooms. I knocked politely on the door, and heard a voice in response telling me to come in. I was concentrating on balancing the tray as I entered the room, so it was not until I had carefully placed it on the table by the window that I took in my surroundings – and stopped abruptly. transfixed by what I saw.
The room had a large double bed – bigger than king size – and the duvet had been removed and was piled on the floor. Lying sprawled across the wide expanse of the pale yellow under-sheet was a beautiful young woman, apparently asleep – and completely naked. She was face-down, and her auburn hair fell in curls to her shoulders. I could see the outline of one breast, full and generous, and the rounded thrust of her buttocks. Most of all, her legs were spread quite wide apart, and from where I was standing at the foot of the bed I was looking almost straight up between them, where I could see the base of her vaginal slit.
Before I could react at all, another woman emerged from the en suite bathroom behind me and leaned against its door frame, looked at me appraisingly, and remarked: ‘she does look delectable, doesn’t she?’ This was the same voice that had called me to come in, and if the woman on the bed was a vision of youthful loveliness, this one over-trumped her with the gloss of experience and authority. She was partly dressed – but, oh!, how she was dressed! Looking at her, my knees nearly gave way, and I felt butterflies in my stomach and an unfamiliar warmth and wetness between my legs. The woman in the doorway was the older – mid 30s at least, whilst her companion looked around twenty-five. She had a well-kept figure with good curves that were more than emphasised by her outfit. This was entirely in black, and consisted of knee-high boots, traditional stockings held up by a garter belt, skimpy thong panties, and above them a laced corset-like basque that went from her hips to frame the undersides of her breasts, leaving the nipples visible.
I gasped, and unconsciously licked my lips; I must have looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. As she stepped past me and placed a twenty-pound note next to the breakfast tray, her younger companion lazily rolled over onto her back, with her legs spread even wider apart, and looked at me languorously. She had not been asleep at all – in fact the whole scenario had been staged for my arrival; I later discovered that Miss Foster had arranged with them to send over her ‘new girl’ at that time. The older woman said: ‘I’m Caroline, and this is Vicky – we’d like you to stay, and play with us for a while’. She came closer to me – I swallowed, but otherwise did not move or speak – and then her breasts were almost touching me as she reached for my chin, and gently but firmly kissed me on the lips. My mouth was already partly open, and I gave no resistance at all – in fact I opened wider, and my tongue sought hers. It was all the encouragement that she needed, and her hands dropped to my skirt and tugged it up above my hips. Then her fingers found the front of my panties, giving me a tingle as sharp as an electric shock. As she gently stroked me, I was embarrassed to realise that the gusset of my panties was sopping wet, excitement and arousal drenching it with a mixture of sweat and vaginal juices. ‘Mmm,’ said Caroline in appreciation, ‘I think she’s ripe and ready’. She slipped her hand inside my panties, and ran her fingers up and down my slit. I gave a broken moan, but offered no resistance at all, lost in the waves of hot flushes that radiated out from my crotch.
Vicky roused herself and stepped off the bed, coming to stand behind me. She untied the strings of my white apron and tossed it aside, and unzipped my maid’s black dress from the collar to the base of my spine. She then took the hem of the skirt from her older lover and lifted the whole thing over my shoulders and head. Now I was wearing only my white bra and panties, and a pair of black hold-up stockings as per Miss Foster’s requirements. With a swift motion, Vicky unclasped and removed my bra, letting my breasts swing free. As soon as they were bared, Caroline reached for them, cupping one in each hand and giving them sensuous but firm caresses which produced from me another inarticulate moan of pleasure. This was nothing compared to what followed, as Caroline bent forwards to take each nipple in turn into her mouth, licking it, nibbling it and sucking it. Never had they felt so aroused, so hard and yet so sensitive. Then her mouth traced down across my firm flat stomach, and she knelt on the floor in front of me. Hooking her fingers at each side, a swift tug pulled my drenched panties down below my knees, and then to my ankles and I stepped out of them, unconsciously spreading my legs wider apart as I did so. Caroline seemed first to inhale the smell of my cunt as if it was a vintage wine, before with amazing delicacy she leaned forward to taste me. I gave a gasp of pleasure as she ran her tongue first up and then down my slit, repeating the action and pushing the tip in a little further each time. Whilst she did this, Vicky moved so close that I could feel her firm nipples pressing into my shoulder-blades. She reached round under my arms to take a firm grip of each breast, starting to squeeze and knead them.
Caroline sat back on her heels, and asked if I was a virgin. ‘Technically, no’, I replied, which I then had to explain. I had begun masturbating a year before, using my fingers and then a slim plastic shampoo bottle which was just the right diameter and length. However, one night, about three months before, I had got carried away and pushed the bottle in too hard – breaking my hymen. It was a shock and it felt a bit sore, but I soon found I could get greater pleasure from pushing the bottle in further, and I now regularly got four inches of it up me. However, no person – boy or girl – had been in my pussy, so I was still a virgin in everything other than the strict medical sense. ‘That’s good’, replied Caroline, ‘we want to fuck you, but we don’t want to hurt you’. By now I had lost all restraint, and I gasped in response: ‘Yes – yes! Have me, take me, fuck me, please!’
Now Caroline began eating me out properly, pushing her tongue deeply between my labia, hunting for the nub of the clitoris with all the experience of more than fifteen years of lesbian fucking. The sensations were amazing, and when she found her target I was convulsed. I was shuddering and moaning, my hips bucking spasmodically, and I thrust my pelvis forward whilst spreading my legs open to give this wonderful woman total access to my body. Vicky held my upper body in a vice-like grip, her hands encasing and squeezing my breasts, as I came with an orgasm that burst from my clitoris and ran through my whole body like a tidal wave. I think I would have collapsed if Vicky had not been holding me up, and I realise now that her firm restraint of my upper body had heightened the intensity of my sexual pleasure.
Vicky eased me down onto the bed and lay beside me, leaning across to give oral attention to my tits – both women found it irresistible that a girl my age had such shapely and well-rounded breasts. I arched my back in response, spreading my legs wide apart, and Vicky needed no more invitation – her right hand snaked across my inner thigh, and began probing into my vagina. As if this was not enough, Caroline knelt on the bed on my other side. She had removed her thong panties, revealing clean-shaven pubes and labial lips which were puffy and erect around her moist pink hole. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, and she smiled and took my hand. ‘Touch me there’, she breathed, guiding my fingers to her opening and helping to insert my forefinger and then also the one next to it, sliding into her up to the knuckle. Caroline gave a ragged gasp and gripped my wrist, encouraging me to piston my fingers in and out, faster and deeper – in fact, she was almost wanking herself on me. After a few sweaty heaving moments, she achieved orgasm with a mixture of a shudder and a shriek. She removed my fingers and raised them to her lips, licking them and then bestowing a kiss. She stood up and looked down at my youthful body; ‘Now I want you’, she said, and I nodded in mute agreement.
As Vicky continued to lick my tits and frot her fingers up and down my slit, Caroline walked over to her suitcase and removed something which I had never seen before – but I knew at once, with a ripple of excited anticipation, exactly what it was: a strap-on dildo. She buckled the harness around her hips and fastened the strap between her legs; it had a black leather front plate from which extruded a ribbed black plastic dildo which looked huge to my innocent eyes. My moment of doubt must have shown, as Caroline hastened to reassure me: ‘I’ll be gentle and it won’t hurt, babe, but if you don’t like it just say stop. I just want to be your first-ever fuck, and make it good for you.’ I was so turned on by this that my doubts vanished, and I begged her: ‘Take me – take me hard!’ Vicky changed position, moving around behind me to cradle my head and shoulders between her thighs, though she continued to fondle my breasts and tweak my sensitive nipples. Caroline slid a flat pillow underneath my bottom, lifting my crotch a few inches into the air, and then she spread my knees as far apart as possible. She slipped her hands beneath me, each gripping one of my buttocks, and then carefully positioned the tip of the dildo in line with the centre of my cunt. I was so well-lubricated that when she leant forwards, gently using her weight to press in, the plastic cock slid in smoothly and painlessly. I felt wonderfully filled and stretched, but no discomfort – just the satisfying feeling of being totally penetrated by a gorgeously sexual woman. Caroline worked the dildo in and out, carefully at first but then with increasing vigour as she found little resistance and I was making no complaint – what I was making was mewling gasps of encouragement and entreaty, begging her to give it to me more and harder! All too soon I was reaching crescendo again, and this time I achieved an even more seismic orgasm, like nothing I had managed on my own. I may have fainted for a minute – I certainly felt dazed and a bit dizzy.
Seeing that I was exhausted, the two women eased off, and for a few moments we just lay on the bed and cuddled – it was delicious being in the middle. Then Vicky rolled onto her back, spread her thighs apart, stroked her hand up and down her labia, and looked at me with a sultry and lustful expression. ‘Would you like to taste me?’ she asked. I was swept along on the tide of my sexual liberation, and mutely I nodded yes – I was really going to have to get more articulate. Vicky moved up to rest her shoulders and head on the pillows, and then opened her legs even wider. I knelt down between them, sticking my butt in the air, and brought my lips up to her pussy – it was ripe and partly open, with a surrounding of ginger curls that were neatly trimmed. Hesitantly at first, I licked and tasted her, relishing her musky smell and the mixture of sweet and spice in her juices. Getting bolder, I pushed my tongue in further and moved it around, and then clamped my lips over her labia and started sucking like a vacuum cleaner. Mostly by luck, I found her clitoris as I lapped up and down, and she started to twitch and gasp for breath. At last, she seized the back of my head and pressed me further into her, but before I could worry about how I was going to breathe, her hips bucked and she orgasmed quite suddenly. During this, Caroline had moved off the bed, partly to give us more room and partly to get a better view. She sat in a nearby chair with her legs apart, stroking her nipples with one hand and masturbating her cunt with the other, and avidly watching the spectacle of her sexy lover – 10 years younger than her – being eaten out by a young girl who was 20 years her junior. Almost as soon as Vicky came, Caroline followed suit, leaning back in the chair and arching her back, as her pistoning fingers brought her to climax.
With a start I looked at the clock and realised the time – nearly thirty of Miss Foster’s forty-five minutes were up, and I was in no state to go back to work. Caroline and Vicky appreciated the problem, and ushered me into their bathroom for a quick shower, after which they both dried me with the hotel’s soft towels – I’m not sure if that saved any time, but it felt wonderful. I looked with doubt at my sticky panties, but Caroline reached for them and said that she wanted to keep them, as something to remember this by. Instead, she went to her suitcase and presented me with pair of beautiful, lace-trimmed, silky white panties – clearly an exotic and expensive make, tailored in a skimpy V-shape from my hips to my crotch. I then quickly restored the rest of my uniform, and with regret turned to leave. Caroline put another twenty-pound note down next to the first one, ‘because it was your first time’. I said I didn’t want to take any money, and they replied that they understood that but that I must as ‘it was the rules’. I didn’t really grasp what they meant, but took the cash and thanked them. They were checking out that morning, but said that in three weeks’ time they were booked to stay for the whole weekend, and perhaps I could join them during my off-duty time on Saturday afternoon? ‘Oh, yes, please!’, I said, and they replied that it was a date. Just as I was about to exit their room, Vicky jumped off the bed and ran over to her suitcase, with her full breasts deliciously swinging free. To my amazement, she presented me with a large vibrator, black and ridged with a curved top end; it looked like part of the same set as Caroline’s strap-on. Vicky gave me a happy smile and said she wanted me to have this as a memento, and because ‘it’ll be a lot more fun than your shampoo bottle!’
I left the Ladies’ Wing in a euphoric daze, first going to put the vibrator away in my locker – I would have to think about where to keep it at home so that my mother wouldn’t find it! For the rest of the morning, I cleaned bedrooms and changed bed linen on automatic pilot, my head in a whirl. I had enjoyed the experience so profoundly, and knew that I felt no real interest in the attentions of boys, so it was almost with relief that I accepted that I was definitely a lesbian – and that nothing was going to stop me from enjoying it. That settled me, and by the time we had finished serving lunches in the restaurant, I had put the morning’s adventure aside to think about later, and was back in the working routine. As we cleared the last tables, I saw Miss Foster talking with Miss Deacon, and I thought she looked my way several times – I had probably made some silly mistakes earlier, cleaning the rooms whilst half in a dream. The hotel owner left, and a few minutes later the housekeeper called me over. I was given two rooms in the front part of the hotel that still needed attention before my afternoon break, and then Miss Deacon turned back almost as an afterthought. ‘Oh, yes – after you’ve done those, and before taking your break, please go and see Yoshiko in L5 – there’s something she needs help with, but it’s not urgent.’ I must have looked puzzled, so Miss Deacon explained that Ms Yoshiko Mitseui was a regular visitor to the hotel, and that she worked for one of the big Japanese banks in London so her English was faultless. ‘You’ll have no trouble understanding what she needs’, said Miss Deacon with a hint of a smile.
It was an hour later that I finished the last bedroom, and walked through the door again into the Ladies’ Wing. L5 was a ground floor, single room – though all of these were quite spacious and had broad queen-sized beds, the reason for which I didn’t yet realise. I knocked on the door of the room, and a soft attractive voice asked ‘Who is it?’. ‘Room service’, I replied, and was bidden to enter. Coming into the room, I saw a stunningly pretty young Japanese woman sitting at the small table by the window, taking a sip from a cup of green tea. As she rose and walked towards me, I estimated her age as mid to late 20s, but her complexion was so smooth it was hard to be sure. She was about my height, but slighter in build, and had lustrous straight black hair which fell nearly halfway down her back. She was wearing a very pretty wrap-around kimono dressing gown made of thin blue silk; it was quite short, going only just below her hips. As she came nearer, her dark almond-shaped eyes fixed on mine, she let go of the kimono’s belt and it swung open, revealing that she was completely naked underneath it. I could see her small high breasts, flat stomach, boyish slim hips, and the trimmed triangle of jet black hair on her Venus mound, with a hint of pink showing in its midst. I did my wide-eyed, open-mouth, rooted-to-the-spot thing again – really, I was going to have to come up with a more engaging response if this sort of thing was going to keep happening (oh, yes, please yes, let it do so!). Yoshiko stood in front of me, and with a practiced shrug of her shoulders the kimono crumpled to the ground. My blood was pounding in my ears, so I scarcely heard her say: ‘Nancy was right – you are a very beautiful girl’. I had no idea who she was referring to, but found out later that Nancy was Miss Deacon, who had spent the night in Yoshiko’s bed, giving her pleasure in the manner which satisfied them both.
Yoshiko touched my cheek and smiled hesitantly at me, and I cast off my shock and smiled back. ‘How can I help you?’ I said, feeling rather foolish. She leant closer and breathed tantalisingly into my ear: ‘I’ll show you’. Then her hand slipped down to caress my breasts through my uniform, and my nipples were so sensitive from the morning’s attentions that I immediately felt aroused. I let her take off my uniform – I found later that nearly all of the women particularly enjoyed that part – and stood before her in bra, panties and stockings. She looked admiringly at my new pair of sexy panties and said how nice they were, and I blushed and mumbled something about them being a present. She removed my underwear and took me over to the bed, and positioned me on my back. For a few moments she ran her hands over my body, constantly returning to my breasts and vagina. Then she produced a strap-on dildo from the drawer in the bedside table, and my cunt went moist in anticipation. But my assumption was wrong, for instead of stepping into it she handed it to me, and said ‘I want you to fuck me’. She showed me how to put it on, and adjusted the straps so it was secure and rode in a comfortable position. Then Yoshiko knelt on the bed on all fours, pushing her ass towards me and presenting her open vulva. I needed no more invitation, and scrambled on behind her. I steadied my balance by gripping her waist above the hips, and found that this had lined up the plastic cock in almost exactly the right spot. I was too excited to wait for confirmation or instruction, and instead pushed firmly into her. She had not quite expected me to take such initiative, and it caught her by surprise in a deeply erotic way. Within moments I was bucking my hips, reaming the dildo in and out, as she beat on the mattress with her forearms and shouted at me to give it to her harder. So I did my best, and she later told me that for a first effort it had been amazingly forceful and confident, with no hesitancy. I shifted my grip to her shoulders, curving her spine and pushing still deeper with the inward thrusts. After a minute or so of really hard pounding, she gave low moan, shuddered for a few seconds, and then collapsed forward on the bed.
‘Wow!’ I said to her prone back, ‘that was mind-blowing!’. She rolled over onto her back, showing me again her stunning Oriental body, and giving me a smile like the cat that has had the cream: ‘yes, it was’. I had more than an hour of break time left, and happily agreed when Yoshiko asked me to spend it with her. During that time we made love gently, and she showed me the pleasures of position 69. I dozed for the last twenty minutes or so, lying in her arms, and that gave my body a much-needed chance to recover. Like the women in the morning, Yoshiko insisted on my accepting a twenty-pound note, which puzzled me and I took it reluctantly. I went back to work in the dining room, where we had a busy evening – it was early summer, and it looked like the tourist season was under way. Just before I left, Miss Foster asked me if I might be able to work Sunday (the next day) as well, as she was short-handed. Even though I had acquired an unexpected £60, I wasn’t sure what to do with that, and so I readily agreed to do the extra hours.
I didn’t see my friend Kate that evening: I was too tired, and we just chatted on the phone for a while about unimportant things – there was no way I was going to recount my adventures of the day over the phone, and when – or, rather, if – I told her about them I wanted to be able to see her face and gauge her reaction. In the privacy of my bedroom, with the door locked, I slipped out of all my clothes except the sexy new panties and took the vibrator which Vicky had given me out of my bag. Easing aside the crotch of the panties, I worked it in – finding I could accommodate at least five inches now without discomfort; a good deal more than before. My pussy did feel a little raw from its exercise during the day, but also deliciously sensitive. I lay back and closed my eyes, thinking of the day’s marvels: being taken by the dominant Caroline’s dildo, tasting Vicky’s pussy as she moaned in ecstasy, and ramming the strap-on in and out of the squealing Yoshiko’s cunt. The new vibrator was ten times more arousing than my faithful old bottle, and my memories were a hundred times more arousing, so it didn’t take long before I brought myself off, twice in a row.
On Sunday I walked up the hill to the hotel, and changed into my maid’s uniform in the locker room. Kate was there, but the hotel was full and there was no time to talk to her – anyway, I was still not sure what, if anything, I would say. Whilst serving breakfasts in the dining room, I thought that a number of glances were being particularly directed my way by three or four single women who were sitting at tables on their own (and who I realised probably had rooms in the Ladies’ Wing). However, I couldn’t be sure and put it down to an over-active imagination – because I was starting to surmise what the purpose of the Ladies’ Wing might be. As we were tidying the tables and setting the places for lunch, Miss Foster called me over to her and instructed me to begin cleaning a number of the rooms on the ground floor of the Ladies’ Wing. I was pleased and excited, because apart from yesterday’s two errands I had hardly set foot in it, and I was curious; I also felt (correctly, as it turned out) that I had passed some sort of threshold or test.
I walked along the ground floor corridor, and found that the rooms which I had been assigned to clean were at the further end, next to Miss Foster’s own private rooms. I had not seen into any of these on my introductory tour of the hotel, and so when I saw a door standing ajar I could not resist the temptation even though it was marked ‘Strictly Private’. On that previous occasion Miss Foster had indicated this door and called it her ‘exercise room’; as I stepped into it, I gave gasp – it was for exercises, but it was not a normal gymnasium. I knew enough to recognise from its fittings that this was a bondage room. There were manacles and rope fastenings on one of the walls, an upright X-frame, a padded leather table shaped in a horizontal X with arms and legs that could be swung wider apart, something that looked like old-fashioned stocks, and a triangular frame with a padded section like a saddle at the top. In racks or shelves on the wall were leather cuffs, chain shackles, handcuffs, ropes, gags, strap-ons, vibrators and other exotic things I could not identify – also, rather ominously, some canes and whips. The room was large, at least the size of two spacious double-bedrooms, and much of the floor at one end was taken up by two large mattresses which were covered in satiny black sheets. The windows were of frosted glass, and in any case looked directly onto the steep earth bank of the hill behind the hotel, so there was enough light but no one could possibly see in. I strolled around, fascinated by the furnishings and equipment, picking up some things and stroking others. I took down from the wall a pair of leather manacles which were joined by a short silver chain, and strapped one of them around my right wrist. My back was to the door, and I jumped in shock when suddenly I heard it click shut.
I spun round, and there was Miss Foster looking at me with a steely glint in her eye. She was standing with her back to the closed door, and her right hand held a short riding-crop which she was rhythmically slapping into her left palm ‘You know you are not supposed to come in here’, she said sharply, and I stammered excuses about the open door and just being curious. Miss Foster’s face relaxed into a hint of a smile, and she asked if I had found it interesting and exciting. ‘Oh, yes!’, I gushed, with an enthusiasm which surprised me. Miss Foster let the riding crop fall to her side, and walked across the wide room towards me. Only then did I properly take in her appearance, which had subtly changed since breakfast. She still had her trademark black boots and stockings, but her stylish black skirt had been replaced by one much shorter and tighter, almost slutty, and so brief that I was sure I could see the clips of the suspenders at the top of her stockings. She had also discarded the tasteful grey blouse she had been wearing, and as she moved her unbuttoned suit jacket swung open and I realised that all she was wearing underneath it was a sexy underwired black bra, with her cleavage clearly visible. She was a stunning vision of sexual maturity, experience and confidence; I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and she knew it.
‘Time for you to learn the ropes, my pretty’, she said, as she stopped directly in front of me. I bit my lower lip in a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, but made no other move. She slipped her jacket from her shoulders and placed it over the nearby stocks, put the riding crop next to it, and stood commandingly in front of me. I had not appreciated before the swell of her full breasts, now superbly encased and uplifted in the black lace-trimmed bra. Her assured poise and authoritative gaze simply pinned me to the spot, and her hands began to caress and squeeze my tits through my bra and the thin nylon material of the maid’s uniform. My lips parted as the pressure of her hands became firmer, my breathing quickened and I gave a kind of soft moan. Miss Foster released my orbs, took a step backwards and picked up the riding crop, and with a gesture ordered me to take off my uniform. I hastily obeyed, and in a moment was standing before my employer in just my shoes, black hold-up stockings, plain white bra and the pretty white panties which Caroline had given me (I had washed and dried them before going to bed last night, as I couldn’t resist wearing them again). Miss Foster looked disapprovingly when the stockings were revealed and told me that I would look much nicer in proper suspenders, but a smile returned as she gazed on the sexy skimpy panties. ‘Very nice’, she murmured, and then she sent a shiver through my body by running her finger down the front panel of the scanty underwear and then back up again. She admired my breasts, and ran the end of her riding crop slowly from left to right under the material of the bra cups, as my nipples became erect. She unhooked and removed my bra, and stroked my naked breasts with her fingernails until I trembled with desire. Then her hand dropped, slipping inside the V-shaped front of my panties to cup my mound. I gave a broken whimper as her hand explored my labia, parting them and running a knuckle between them. She felt my soaking wetness, and smiled again: ‘You’re ready, my dear, aren’t you?’ she asked. ‘Oh yes! Miss Foster, yes!’ I managed in reply, but her expression turned stern and she cupped my chin in one hand, making me look her in the eye. ‘In this room, you will call me Mistress’, she ordered, and I pleased her by at once replying appropriately.
Miss Foster pulled my panties down, and without needing to be told I stepped out of them, naked now apart from the shoes and stockings. She looked at the leather cuff still dangling from my right arm, and said musingly to herself: ‘No, not that one …’ She unfastened it and put it back in its place, and selected instead two matching pairs of similar restraints which had much shorter linking chains. She swung my arms behind my back and then fastened them quite tightly together, using the pair of cuffs which had almost no chain on my wrists and the other pair, which had just a few inches, to pull my elbows close together. The effect was nicely calculated to make me stand erect with my shoulders pulled backwards, so that my breasts were thrust out into the air. She cupped them again, and then rubbed the riding crop across my throbbing nipples. Next she fastened a studded leather collar around my neck, and led me by its leash to the wall, where I was fixed to a series of cuffs and chains which went around my pinioned arms and waist, and to ankle straps which pulled my legs wide apart. Miss Foster tapped the inside of my thighs quite sharply with the end of the riding crop, but when I began to look fearful she paused and assured me that I would not be hurt against my will: everything in the room was intended for pleasure, not pain. I nodded acceptance, and was rewarded by the riding crop rising between my legs to press and then grind on my crotch, separating my labia and sliding inside. The effect was amazing, and I had my first orgasm almost at once. Realising that I had come, Miss Foster knelt down and applied her mouth to my pussy, licking inside me to savour the taste of my juices. I was in seventh heaven, with this stunning, masterful woman taking possession of my body, and I orgasmed again as her tongue rasped across my clitoris.
As Miss Foster rose and wiped her lips, I saw over her shoulder the other door into the room begin to open – this was at its furthest end, and I realised it must connect directly into Miss Foster’s personal suite. Into the exercise room walked Miss Deacon – but as I had never seen her before. She was wearing slutty red shoes with three-inch heels and winding straps, red stockings held up by a red suspender belt, and a thin red quarter-cup bra that lifted her breasts and exposed her nipples – and absolutely nothing else, so that her cunt was openly on view. At once I understood that she was Miss Foster’s lover, and this was why the two of them were the only ones who lived permanently in the hotel building. Miss Deacon stalked towards us with sinuous grace, gazing avidly at my exposed young body and my tits in particular. ‘Well, Sally,’ she said to her partner, ‘It looks like your instinct was right again.’ ‘Indeed,’ replied Miss Foster, slipping two fingers in and out of my cervix and making me jerk in arousal; ‘As we thought, she’s as pretty as a peach and ripe for the plucking – and the fucking.’ I thought Miss Deacon looked stunning, and admired her back as she ran first her eyes and then her hands all over me. She was several years younger than her boss, with a slender figure and smaller, pointy breasts which the tiny bra elevated to jut even more provocatively. She turned to Miss Foster, and then dropped to her knees in front of her and asked: ‘What is your pleasure, my mistress?’ She was ordered to unzip and take down Miss Foster’s skirt, which revealed that the older woman was wearing no panties, and I gazed admiringly at the smooth swell of her shaven pubes as Miss Deacon leant forward and kissed her on the vagina.
Next, Miss Foster ordered her to go over to the X-shaped table and lie on it, face downwards. Miss Deacon’s wrists and ankles were strapped in to its four extremities, which were then pushed apart to their maximum spread. The whole table also turned on a central pivot, and Miss Foster rotated it so that Miss Deacon was looking straight at me, her face level with my pussy but about five feet away. There was a support for Miss Deacon’s chin, and I could now see that the shape of the table was cleverly designed so that woman’s breasts would hang free and could be reached from underneath. Miss Foster ran the riding crop down Miss Deacon’s backbone, snagging the bra strap and unclipping it, and then moving over her buttocks and down the inside of her right leg. The older woman looked appraisingly at her bound lover, and then selected what seemed to my young eyes an enormous strap-on from the collection on the shelf. She buckled it on, spread some lubricant along its length, and then came to stand between Miss Deacon’s opened legs. She looked over her back and directly at me as she asked the captive woman: ‘What’s it to be – cunt or ass?’ ‘Ass-fuck me, you bitch!’ moaned Miss Deacon, ‘you know I love that’. I gasped – I had never even thought of such a thing, and was both shocked and intrigued. Miss Foster slapped her partner’s rump with the riding crop, took a firm grip on her hips, and then slowly ground the dildo into the gasping woman’s anus. She began to pump in and out, and during the whole time both women gazed steadily at me, savouring my reaction to the raw sexual display in front of me. Miss Deacon began to bleat and moan, rearing up as much as her bonds would allow and sometimes shaking her head, but all of the time her eyes were locked on my face. Both women could see that I was being turned on by the sight of two experienced lesbians making out, and in turn that excited them even more. Miss Deacon gasped her way to a huge climax, coming with a combination of yelp and shriek, and Miss Foster withdrew the anal battering-ram and unstrapped her lover.
Both women now turned their attention to me. My bonds were adjusted, releasing my arms from behind me and fastening them instead to each side, and further ropes were would tightly round my chest, encasing and constricting my breasts like a bondage bra – with similar effect, lifting my tits and thrusting them out and forwards. Ropes around my knees and thighs ensured that my legs would remain fixed wide open, and another around my waist gave me almost no lateral movement. They spent a little time fondling my tits, which they both licked and sucked, and probing into my pussy, licking their fingers afterwards in appreciation. I was already highly sensitised and feeling that all my bones had turned to jelly, when Miss Foster selected another item which at first glance I took to be another strap-on. However, she explained to me that this was their invention, which they called the ‘Un-chastity belt’ or the ‘Strap-in’. It had a large vibrator, which Miss Deacon switched on and Miss Foster then pushed inside me, easing it up until all of its six-inch length had penetrated. As it throbbed inside me, already pushing me towards another climax, the rest of the device was put in place. It was very much like the reverse of a strap-on: there was a broad triangular section across my crotch which removed any chance of the vibrator coming out (and, of course, of my being able to switch it off), and there were straps around my waist and across my buttocks which held this firmly in place. They stood back to watch its effects on me, as the vibrator’s pulsing frictions deep inside me and on my vagina and clitoris swept me into a mind-blowing orgasm.
It was at this point that I discovered my love of bondage. It was precisely because I was so tightly restrained that I could let myself go completely, for anything that happened was no longer my responsibility. The bonds removed the need to consider anything other than my own physical cravings, and so they were truly liberating psychologically because they held me so securely physically. I lunged and thrashed in my ropes, my young body jerking from side to side in uncontrolled spasms, as the vibrator took me from the crest of one orgasm to the next. I was moaning, gasping, yelping and screaming, until I was further confined by Miss Foster shoving a ball-gag into my mouth and strapping it tightly behind my head. I yelled even louder into it, orgasming again, deliberately struggling in my ropes and throwing myself around as far as they permitted. My sweat-coated buttocks slapped repeatedly against the wall behind me, and my heels drummed against the skirting-board. My pelvis was shuddering, my hips spreading even further open as I stretch my pussy to encompass the pitiless fucking of the electric vibrator. The two women gazed on my uninhibited abandonment with lustful enjoyment. ‘She’s a natural’, breathed Miss Foster; ‘hot stuff,’ agreed Miss Deacon with a nod. Eventually I could take no more, having lost count of my rippling series of orgasms, and my legs glistened with sweat and the juices that had seeped from my quim. Concerned to make sure I did not pass out, they removed the wonderful fuck-machine and the ball-gag, and wiped the sweat and saliva from my face, breasts and cunt with a soft towel. Miss Foster slipped back into her mini-skirt and buttoned up her jacket, and without explanation left by the door to the main corridor. Miss Deacon gently brushed my hair with a comb and gave me a much-needed drink of water, but made no sign of releasing me from bondage.
I had nearly recovered my breath when about five minutes later Miss Foster returned. She was not alone, but led into the room more than a dozen women aged from their early 20s to early 40s. Most of them I recognized as hotel guests, and I realised they must be residents in the Ladies’ Wing; several were single, but there were some couples – and one of these had obviously been in the middle of making out, as they strolled in holding hands and completely nude apart from their high-heeled shoes. All the rest of the woman were fully dressed, with two exceptions. One was one of the youngest present, a slim and pretty redhead who was wearing black stockings which were clipped to a black basque-corset with red trimmings, so that her cunt below and breasts above were fully exposed. Her hands were tied behind her back, and the leash to the collar around her neck was held by a tall, busty black woman of around 40, who was wearing a smart executive-style power skirt-and-suit with shoulder pads. The other was towards the end of the procession, as Yoshiko came in wearing only her light kimono. She smiled at me and blew me a kiss, and I was amazed and delighted to see that she was holding the hand of Alice, the off-duty chef who would be in charge of the hotel kitchen for today’s evening meal; Alice looked a little rumpled, and I surmised that Yoshiko had recently had another good doggy-style fucking. Some of the last women to enter were also hotel staff, but by now all my shyness had gone and I regarded them with as much open interest as they directed at me. There was Lorna, the other chef, who was in her early 30s compared to Alice’s mid-20s; she was a focused and briskly efficient martinet when running the kitchen, and my only contact with her hitherto had been to follow her brusque orders as quickly as possible, but now she gave me a lazy smile which transformed her looks, and ran her tongue along her lips. She was arm-in-arm with the hotel’s main receptionist, a buxom blonde who was almost a caricature of the traditional barmaid image – I had found her to be sweet and helpful, and the idea that she might be open to my sucking on her wonderful breasts (definitely the largest on view) was mind-blowing.
Each of the women approached my bound figure in turn, singly or in couples. They ran their hands over my ripe young breasts with interest and admiration, squeezed my firm and shapely ass, and slid one or two fingers in and out of my cunt like a dipstick checking an engine for oil, inspecting and then licking their fingers afterwards. Several tweaked or flicked my nipples, and each finished by giving me a deep kiss. It was immensely arousing, especially when the captive redhead knelt beneath my crotch and slowly licked me whilst her black mistress cradled my beasts and gave me a long French kiss. I thought to myself that a three-way with those two would be a top priority, and then wondered belatedly how I had become such a slut so quickly. The serial attention was getting me worked up again, and to stifle my moans Miss Foster reinserted the ball-gag, to my considerable pleasure. After all the women had finished, Miss Foster, who had again discarded her skirt and jacket, came over to me and said that I had passed the tests of initiation into the ‘Sapphos Club’. She explained this group included many of the staff and a wide circle of visitors, and that only members of the Club could stay or work in the Ladies’ Wing – but there they had the privacy to enjoy whatever sexual activity was their pleasure, with the one rule that there was no coercion. The other rules were that the staff should accommodate whatever the guests desired, unless they had good reason to object, and that in return the guests would give a gift to anyone they propositioned – which explained my twenty-pound notes, which was the customary rate. There was no need for a gift, however, if the member of staff made the overture. Finally, the Club was secret, and neither it nor what went on in the Ladies’ Wing must ever be divulged to any non-member, and she briefly made it clear that they had ways of discrediting anyone who broke confidentiality. Then she put one hand under my chin, looking into my eyes, whilst with her other she slipped three fingers into my gaping pussy and took hold of my clitoris – as I later discovered, this was a ritual followed for every initiation. She asked if I wanted to become a member of the Sapphos Club, and would swear to abide by its rules and her decisions as its leader. I was still gagged, but my vigorous nod of agreement was clear enough, and so to confirm my oath she vigorously frigged my cunt until I jerked and shuddered in orgasm. The seal was set by every woman present taking a turn to lick and taste my come; they all congratulated me, and said what beautiful young girl I was and that I would be a real asset – my pulse raced when the statuesque black woman whispered in my ear: ‘You’ll be well-used, my pretty pussy – and I’m going to be at the head of the queue’, whilst her young bondage-mate gave me a salacious wink.
There was a final surprise still to come. Leaving me firmly roped. gagged and thoroughly aroused, the women drew back and Miss Foster nodded to the woman nearest to the door, saying ‘Bring the girls in to meet our newest member.’ The door was opened, and into the room came four of my fellow part-time hotel maids, all in their pretty uniforms. Two were girls who went to my school and I knew moderately well – one was in the year ahead of me, and one in my own class. But the real shock was the last of the four, as into the bondage room walked my stunning best-friend, Kate. I jerked in my ropes as I saw her, but almost at once I realised that she was looking at me with lust in her eyes. ‘Oh, babe,’ she gasped, ‘I’ve dreamed for so long of seeing you like this – of having you.’ I couldn’t believe my luck as she quickly stripped off her uniform, cast aside her bra and panties, and walked towards me dressed only in stockings and a suspender belt, with her sweet pretty pussy alluringly framed between its straps. She knelt in front of me, ran her fingers along my swollen and distended labial lips, and then proceeded to eat me out like an expert – but, as she explained later, she had started work at the hotel three months before me, and had been initiated into the Sapphos Club on her second weekend. I was transported into bliss – my lovely, wonderful Kate was a lesbian too, and was taking me to the heights of ecstasy. It was the start of a wonderful year, as Kate and I worked (much of the time on our backs or roped up in the bondage room) in the Ladies’ Wing at the weekends, and made love to each other whenever we got the chance during the week.
All of this happened a little over twenty years ago. A year later, Kate and I went away to university, and after graduating we both got jobs in London. We are still together and very much in love, although we have never been monogamous and have had – separately and together – sexual encounters with many other women. We both work successfully in the travel industry (a great way to meet hot babes from all over the world – I still remember the Swedish tour guide who lived with us for a couple of months in 1996), and have made quite a bit of money. In fact, we have recently been talking about maybe starting a hotel of our own … a special kind of hotel … for ladies only …