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"You really make me sick!" With that she roughly grabbed me by the throat and slammed me hard against the wall. The impact of my back against the brick winded me but before I could even attempt a breath I felt a hard stinging blow to the side of my face. This double assault immediately caused my eyes to prick with tears and as I attempted to focus, all I could discern was the blurred shape of my lover running from the studio.
Tentatively a few of the other dancers came to my aid and helped me to my feet. The ballet master was livid and as soon as I had recovered a few short breaths he simply gestured for me to leave the class. I really can't recall the details of how I negotiated the corridors to arrive at the changing rooms. All I can recall is that as soon as I had dropped my bag before my locker I collapsed with a pain that made all physical pain trivial. Not only had I been so humiliated before the company and lord, the way that dancers can bitch this would only be the beginning but more grievously I had humiliated her. The awful nausea of this realisation propelled me to a shower cubicle wherein I turned the taps on full blast and hid beneath a curtain of water and sobbed as if I were crying shards of glass.
In the midst of this feeling of complete collapse the discipline of the dancer began to assert itself. I knew that the class would be finished in just under an hour and there was no way that I was going to hang around to face the gently thrilled inquisitions of my colleagues. I turned off the taps and tried to regain my composure. There I was like a drenched cat still clothed in my leotard, tights and pointe shoes which were now irredeemably ruined and would no doubt earn me a prissy rebuke from one of the queens in wardrobe.
But to begin at the beginning...
It was a rare Saturday night in which I didn't have to dance. I loved nights like that. It meant that I could stay at home put the place in order and then cook something for her so that it would be ready when she had finished her performance. I had just that year been accepted into the corps de ballet of the company in which she was now a principal. She had been my mentor while I was a student and was my first heart throbbing, belly dropping, leg shaking love. I didn't think then and I'm not sure now that anyone could have possibly been happier. Our first year together was characterised by an erotic heat that would leave us dazed and exhausted. She was a deliciously mischievous and demanding lover and more than anything when I lay in her arms after she had extracted from me pleasures that left me hoarse and limp, I would instantly rally as she murmured in my ear that I was her secret wife. Her secret wife. Its not as if in the world of ballet a homosexual alliance would succeed in raising an eyebrow nor did we feel any compunction to be particularly closeted. It was just that this whispered endearment excited in me a submissive ardour and confirmed me in my willing submission to her and her happiness.
Actually one time we went to an S and M club to explore this latent aspect of mine. Beneath our overcoats she was stunning in a black latex cat suit, a Eurasian panther while I was trussed in virginal white lace stockings, shockingly brief tight white shorts that hugged my cleft, ballet flats and a leash we picked up in a pet store. We checked in our coats but apart from our outfits it was obvious that we had no idea what we were doing. Neither of us could successfully suppress our giggles and it was clear that the initial lustful interest that our fellow patrons had expressed was quickly turning to irritation at our antics. We left the club somewhat shamefaced but not before I had been shocked into momentary sobriety by witnessing in one of the 'dungeons' my very first fisting. Natasha tugged at my leash and we quickly decamped to our apartment where we spent the night howling with laughter as we took turns yelling at each other to "suck this bitch" and "please mistress, not in my pooh pooh hole".
However the memory of the 'dungeon' still appalled and excited me and it was something that lingered vaguely in my memory as I finished preparing her dinner and changed in anticipation of her arrival. What ever I chose to wear I knew I wouldn't be wearing it long. She arrived home and I rushed into her arms. Even after a year her beauty could still disorient me. She pulled me close in a cheerful embrace and held me tight while I buried my head in the crook of her neck while she caressed the back of my head and giggled over my enthusiasm for her. We chatted and I sat by her while she ate.
"Have you been in my wardrobe?" she asked.
"I may have been, why?"
"Are they my fishnets?"
"I'm not sure, they could be I didn't really check."
She insinuated her hand beneath the hem of my short plaid skirt and ran her hand up my inner thigh to stop just at my sex.
"They are mine!"
"How can you be so sure?" I protested.
"Because you ripped out the crotch the last time I was wearing them." With that she playfully flicked her fingers against my dampening sex. I shivered with her touch. She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip while winking at me. I leant forward for a kiss and drank the wine from her lips. Her hand still nestled under my skirt, with a little pressure she made me stand and drew me close. She lifted my skirt and gazed at my cunt.
"Ohh Lindsay, what am I to do with you?" She pulled me even closer so that she could kiss me on my now revealed and glistening lips. I clutched her head closer to me as she stooped a little further down to allow her tongue to trace the outside of my labia and to playfully stab at my entrance.
"Take me to bed." I whispered.
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Having stripped me of my skirt she lay me on the bed belly down and knelt between my legs. In any long relationship there are certain routines of love making that can either dull the event or enhance it. This was one of my favourites. Belly down and my bottom exposed to her gaze I waited for the feel of her warm breath which would herald the exquisite dexterity of her tongue as it rimmed the outline of my anus and travelled the sensitive furrow from cheeks to cunt. I raised my bottom a little to allow her better access, Reaching under me she used both hands to rip my fishnet tights to the point that nothing could impede her explorations. This act of petty violence coaxed from me a deep groan of pleasure; again my mistress' plaything, again to be her object and her toy. Her hands on either side of my hips she me pulled up so that I was on all fours and with that she stretched my cheeks open and began her exploration of me with her tongue.
Circling my anus, probing it, teasing me to such a desire for penetration. A desire that it would always be her tongue, always be her fingers, that it would always be her. She ran a hand under my belly, reaching up to my breasts. I smiled to think that once I had been self conscious of my breasts because of their lack of size. But Natasha had always taken such pleasure from them that embarrassment was banished and because she thought them beautiful I had begun to think them beautiful as well. The simple proximity of her hand to my breasts was always enough to bring my nipples to erection as if each pore of my skin, each organ of my body was ever jealous of her attention.
As her tongue probed me her hand traced the small globe of my breast, brushing my nipple with the tips of her fingers and beginning a gentle tweaking. Now greedy I wanted the impossible; both her tongue deep inside my rectum and her mouth suckling at my breast.
"Enter me baby, enter me." I murmured.
With that I felt her tongue spear me deep. Removing her hand from my breast she trailed it down to circle my saturated cunt. Running her fingers over the groove of my sex while her tongue pushed deep into my anus. Her finger tips found my engorged clitoris and brought their delicious pressure to bear. I was now rocking on my hands and knees as the tension of my climax began its inexorable crescendo. Ever sensitive to my growing state she parted my lips and easily slipped in two fingers. She opened her fingers inside me stretching my vagina. I felt so particularly open and filled. With her free hand she played hard against my clitoris. This new force of love elicited a profound exhalation of pleasure from me as the rapid darting of her tongue in my rectum, her forceful opening of my cunt and the precision of pressure against my clitoris elicited contraction after contraction of pleasure. The tidal surge of my climax had me shouting her name as I felt the juices that she had extracted from me trickle down the inside of my thighs.
I collapsed face down and felt her lay on top of me. Biting into my neck while whispering the most magnificent endearments. She rolled me towards her and I clung to her my legs wrapped around her. My favourite position, my head buried in the crook of her neck comforted again by her love and her subtle aroma.
"Oh Lindsay, Lindsay, Lindsay." She murmured.
"My mistress." I murmured back.
I lay there a little while curling her hair around my fingers. Perhaps I was a little selfish in that I could feel her carnal ache and yet I could do little but drowse in the aftermath of her assault. She peppered my face with kisses and straddled a leg over my thighs as she rolled me onto my back. Her cunt against my leg like a wet kiss. She rode me a little while, running her hands over my belly and my breasts. I reached down and insinuated my hand between her legs bringing a sweeter pressure to bare than my thigh alone. She lifted a little. A plea for me to continue my hands journey to encase her sex. As my fingers explored the folds of her lips and the equisite shell pink flesh that hid just inside her entrance I could again feel the thirst for her sex well in my throat.
"Let me eat you." I whispered.
"Oh please." She whispered back.
We rolled again bringing her to rest on her back. I eased down the bed to revel in her cunt. I was addicted to her. On those nights or days when for whatever reason we could not be in each other's company and I was feeling particularly needy or alone all I had to do to calm myself would be to raid the laundry basket. I would steal back to my bed with a pair of her tights or leotard and inhale the delicious tendrils of her scent. Immediately a slow calm would envelop me as I enhaled deeply amongst the bunched garment. Shadows of her touch would soothe me and only then could I fall asleep. I awoke once to her bell like laughter as she had caught me asleep entwined in her tights. But the look of love that radiated from her eyes as it occurred to her just how much I was her thrall forced a great clutching spasm in my heart.
And now here before her. The font of her essence. I could feel my mouth water in anticipation of that first savoury kiss. Softly with the pads of my fingers I circled her sex as I lazily drew my tongue around the contours of her cunt. I am not a naturally proud person but pride was all I could feel when my fingers and tongue played in the wetness of her excitement. Proud because it was me who had prompted this. My touch, my love.
I could hold back no longer and ravenously clamped my mouth to her thrilling sex. Her groan of pleasure caressed me as I locked to her entrance and let my tongue play within the wet velvet of her cunt. My tongue deep within her, lapping at her. Drinking her. I introduced my finger and played inside her while my other hand ran along her flank, her belly and the contours of her breasts. She clutched at my hand and brought it to her breast. Holding it first hard against her heart and then guiding it to her nipple, willing me to take this other bud firmly between my fingers.
I would dart inside her with my tongue and then slowly circle her clitoris, alternating this cycle in time with her sighs. She opened her legs a little wider her hands reaching down to play in the tresses of my hair. I placed my fingers on each side of her slick pink lips and parted her cunt just a little more to allow me a greater depth. Her breathing now was aroused and tense. I placed my hands against her thighs and opened them to their fullest extent. My nether lip worked against her perinium and the first tender opening of her cunt. My tongue plunging in her. My mouth was an undulating limpet against her. She started repeating my name as I slid two beautifully slick fingers into her. She jolted with their introduction and any shock she felt I soothed immediately by my lips playing softly on her bud.
I loved the feel of her ring of muscle as it clutched at my exploring fingers. I would withdraw them completely and then bring them back in. She had started to rock a little now and held her legs in the air. The tension of her pose, a lover's request to bring a quick consumation. My little finger found a home in the clutch of her anus while with my other hand I played my fingers against the spongy nut of her g spot. She was ready now, so open to tongue and finger. I flattened my tongue and pressed it firmly against her exquisite clitoris. Pulsing my tongue against her I could feel the simultaneous contractions of her anus and cunt clutch against my fingers. Her legs again opened to their furtherest extent as if in the splits, her toes pointed as wave after wave of pleasure coursed violently through her.
My heart pounded with each undulation of her climax.
to be continued...
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