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It began on the train: episode 24 - Jemma defies Finola

Foxy Lady

Foxy Lady

Star
Joined
Jan 30, 2014
Location
United Kingdom
It happened on the way into work. Jemma’s train had reached her stop and she was spilling out onto the platform with the usual crush of commuters when it happened. There was always a lot of pushing, shoving and jostling, no chance of avoiding bodily contact or even the occasional close encounter. But this was different, at least she felt it was, although she wasn’t sure why. It distracted her most of the morning, as she tried to analyse why she was so confident.

It was only momentary, but it wasn’t chance. And it wasn’t a grope. She’d had a few of those, most of female friends had, well the attractive ones anyway, and she was still attractive in her early 40s. But no, it hadn’t been like that. A grope was always a firm grip, with fingers probing where they shouldn’t. And lingering, for as long as the perv could hide what he was doing in the crowd. This, though, had been fleeting, like fingers brushing her buttocks, tenderly. And that took a lot of effort, in the crush of bodies, all moving forwards to disgorge from a crowded train. Too much control for it to be accidental.

And there was something else, but try as she might, Jemma couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
 
It was on the train home that Jemma finally realised what had happened on the way to work. She was crushed between the two large breasts of a cheerful woman who was chatting continuously and inanely on her phone. as a distraction, Jemma let her eyes wander around and spotted a raven haired woman half way along the carriage. She had run a brush through her thick, wavy hair and just happened to pat the curls into place as Jemma was watching. A soft gentle touch, from a small hand.

That was it, that was why it had been so unsettling. It wasn’t that Jemma had been deliberately targeted by some perv of a man who wanted to get his hands on her ass. No, she had been picked out for a caress by a woman. some woman she did not know had seen her, been turned on by her, and touched her up, tenderly, to let her know how she felt.

Jemma did not know how to react. She had never been attracted to a woman. She had never had a crush on any of the female teachers, like several of her friends had. She had not even accepted the invitation from her closest friend to explore their bodies together. No, she had always been into boys, and they were always happy to be into her.

With her new understanding, Jemma found herself wondering how this woman beside her felt at having her fellow passenger jammed between her tits, and then how she felt as they rubbed against her with each jolt of the train. So distracted was she by her thoughts that Jemma almost missed her stop, only forcing her way between the closing doors after hastily extracting herself from the cheerful woman’s tits.

And as she walked home, another thought came. Had this been a one-off, spur of the moment thing or was she being watched, would this happen again tomorrow? She wasn’t sure whether that possibility worried her or pleased her.
 
Jemma tried to take in the faces of the constantly changing crowd that heaved around her as she journeyed into work the next day. She had no chance of recognising anyone from yesterday, because she had not been paying attention then. But if it happened again today, she might spot the woman again tomorrow.

Again? Tomorrow?

Why was she expecting this to happen again? Or was she hoping that it would? It was, after all, what had filled her mind as her boyfriend pumped away between her legs last night. Her distraction was what made him ask if there was something wrong, only to receive a vague reply that probably convinced him that there was.

She was prepared as the train approached her stop. One last quick look around, and her left hand by her side to make a grab for the hand if it fondled her ass again. But nothing. She was swept towards the door, forcing her way through the throng of passengers trying to get on before the doors closed.

And then, just as her foot was in mid air, hovering above the platform, the hand stroked her again. but not her ass. This time it passed lightly over her small tit. And, to her surprise, across her nipple. A surprise because her nipples only appeared at the peak of her arousal, much to the annoyance of her boyfriend who wanted to suckle on them during foreplay.

It was over before she fully took it in. A swift look around, but all she saw were heads, moving away from her in all directions.

Damn.
 
Jemma arrived home without incident, or so she thought until she put her hand into her pocket and found the note.

‘Tight ass, tight tits, perfect, ring me.’

Jemma didn’t ring, but after a lot of thought she could not resist sending a text to the number provided: ‘Who are you?’

She really wanted to ask why this was happening and even more to know why it was making her feel as she was.

Her boyfriend was surprised when she complained of a headache just before bedtime.
 
The text arrived when Jemma was on the train. She felt it vibrate and checked quickly, as she always did instinctively. There was the reply to her text.

‘Don’t turn round.’

As she read it, arms encircled her waist and pulled her against the woman behind her. Resisting all temptation to look over her shoulder, she glanced down at the woman’s hands that were resting on her stomach. Small hands, olive skin, no rings, long nails, real not false, fresh young flesh. Warm too, she could feel the woman’s warmth through the thin cotton of her blouse. Warm like her breath that she could feel on her neck.

The woman held her for a while before her fingers moved down towards Jemma’s belly, almost imperceptibly, not so that anyone nearby would notice, only Jemma whose chest tightened in anticipation of what this woman planned to do in the crowded carriage. The woman’s breath was coming faster too, matching Jemma’s.

As the train jolted across a set of points, all the standing passengers staggered and grabbed for any support. At that moment, the woman’s fingers reached down to Jemma’s crotch and dug in, catching the piercing on her clit. Jemma gasped as she was pulled backwards.

The train was now approaching the station, Jemma’s stop. Passengers moved forward, pushing for the advantage of being close to the doors. Jemma was carried in the throng off the train. When she finally managed to look round, she could see no one matching the woman’s height or colouring. She might be anywhere on the platform or still on the train.

Her phone was vibrating again.

‘Hope you enjoyed that,’ the message read. ‘I did.’
 
Jemma dumped her bag on her desk and hurried to the washroom. Once inside the cubicle, she pulled up her skirt to look at her blue pants with their dark stain at her crotch. They were too wet to wear at her desk, so she pushed them down and put them in her pocket. Then she squatted and stroked herself. Slowly, then more and more frantically, rocking and moaning, desperate to cum but wanting to prolong the moment. And finally the release, a sudden growl that came without warning.

‘Damn,’ the woman spoke from the next cubicle, ‘you must have been horny as hell.’ She didn’t recognise the voice. ‘I’m going to have to wank now if I’m going to get any work done.’

Back at her desk, Jemma settled to her work, tried to settle, kept getting distracted, had to start tasks again, and by lunchtime had done only half of what she should have done. She worked late that evening to catch up before heading home.

This is silly, she told herself on the train, I’ve been touched up by some bitch who wants to amuse herself on her journey into work, that’s all. I’m a grown woman, and there’s only one thing I really need.

‘Can I get you anything,’ her boyfriend asked as she came in. He meant a drink, but her answer took him by surprise.

‘What you can give me right now is a yard long, arm thick cock up my cunt.’

He took the hint and was soon hammering her on their bed.

Jemma went through the motions of showing pleasure and she even came, but when it was over, she knew it had meant nothing to her. It had proved the opposite of what she had wanted, what she thought she had wanted.

The next text arrived as she was preparing supper.

‘No bra tomorrow.’

She spent the rest of the evening imagining why would happen on the train.
 
The arms circled Jemma as soon as she had boarded her train. A quick hug and then the left hand began unbuttoning her blouse, until it could reach inside. First touch of flesh on flesh. A warm touch, barely making contact, floating over the skin, skirting the nipples and its protective ring of bumps. Jemma held her breath and the hand cupped her small tit and gently kneaded it, rolling the palm over it and pressing it hard.

Then a voice, soft, close to her ear. Jemma turned instinctively towards the sound but the head moved away. The voice was in her other ear now, clear this time.

‘I want your pants. Take them off for me.’

Jemma shook her head. How could she, in a crowded train, undress and hand her underwear to a stranger, without anyone noticing.’

The woman must have read her thoughts. ‘No one will notice, you’ll see.’ Her nails were circling Jemma’s nipple now, pressing each of those tiny bumps in turn. Jemma began to stroke the woman’s arm, but shook her head. Nails pinched her nipple, hard. ‘Then I’ll take them off. Open your thighs.’

The hand withdrew, and the woman dropped to one knee beside Jemma, who stole a look at a head of sleek black hair. Then the hand moved up her thigh, not teasing now, swift and business-like, a tug and a jerk on her panties, and they were by her ankles and the woman swiftly lifted each foot to free them.

Then she was gone, leaving Jemma full commando and wondering what she would happen tomorrow.

There was, though, no need to wait that long, because the text arrived at 2 pm.

‘Nice, great scent, loved the taste. It’s Ok that you’re still fucking the bf, for now.’
 
‘What’s your game? Just what are you playing at? This is all your fault, you bitch.’

Jemma’s boyfriend was pinning her to the bed, his knees on her thighs, his hands on her shoulders, his cock dangling. It was always wise to stay calm when he was angry.

‘I don’t know what you mean. You wanted to fuck me, I agreed, and now you can’t make it. That doesn’t sound like my fault to me.’

‘It’s you. You’ve changed, you’re been different recently. Who is he?’

‘Who’s who? What are you talking about?’

‘You’re having an affair, aren’t you, be honest, admit it, that’s why you don’t respond to me any more.’

His spittle hit Jemma in the face and he thumped the pillow beside her head.

‘You’re wrong,’ she was calm, almost dangerously so, ‘you could not be more wrong.’

That seemed to reassure, because he rolled off her, lay with his back to her, and was soon snoring.

Jemma kept glancing at her phone, expecting a text, but when nothing had come by 2 am, she fell asleep.

It was waiting for her the next morning.

‘Wear a shirt dress. No pants, no bra. Heels, the highest you’ve got.’

With her boyfriend still in bed, Jemma left wearing precipitous heels and a green dress with five buttons down the front. She left the top one unfastened and hurried as fast as was safe in her heels.

No hands came round her waist this time. It was as passengers were disembarking at the second stop that she felt herself jostled and found a woman pressing against her. She looked down and saw again the top of the head of a short woman with black hair, her face buried in Jemma’s chest.

And between them, hidden from the view of the passengers pressing around them, the woman’s small hand was unfastening the bottom button of the dress. And then the next. Slowly, taking her time, until she pushed her hand inside, separating Jemma’s thighs.

A finger moved slowly around, tracing the outline of her lady garden, caressing the lips and seeking out the clit that tingled to her touch. Jemma shuddered as the woman slowly masturbated her in the carriage.

At first she thought she was going to cum, but then she realised the woman was deliberately preventing it, easing off each time Jemma came close.

There was a finger inside her now, penetrating her cunt, slow strokes, as her thumb nail scratched at her clit. Jemma clenched her thighs tight, trapping the fingers, but as the guard announced her stop, the woman pulled them out and swiftly rebuttoned the dress.

And then, in the crush, she was gone. Jemma had still not seen her face, or heard her speak, did not even know her name.
 
The weekend came and went with no message from the mysterious woman and no instructions on what Jemma was to wear on her journey to work on the coming Monday.

She and her boyfriend kept their distance on Friday night and most of Saturday. Eventually, after supper on the Saturday Jemma made the first approach.

‘I do love you, you know that don’t you,’ she had approached him from behind and he turned in surprise as she put her arms round his neck. ‘And I am not having an affair with another man, honestly, I promise.’

He breathed deeply and seemed to be thinking whether to accept her overture of peace, but in the end he pulled her close to him and held her tight. The know of his erection was pushing against her belly, but still they stood, neither taking the initiative to go further.

‘Take me.’ Not very original, but it broke the tension and he made his move, the usual one, nibbling her ear and neck as he pulled at her clothes.

Half an hour later, he was fucked out and snoring on the bed, while Jemma mopped the spunk off her pussy and thigh. She lay back on the pillow beside him and wondered about Monday morning.

She boarded the train, unsure of what to expect, but wearing a shirt-style dress and no underwear, although she had a bra and pants in her bag.

One stop passed, with no sign of the woman; then a second, but still no sign. Then as the train pulled away from the third station, Jemma looked down and there she was, standing in front of her, making no attempt to touch her, just swaying with the motion of the carriage. This time, though, she was looking up. Her pert features with a sharp chin and almond shaped black eyes framed by her long silky hair, dressed in a thin cotton dress that barely covered her buttocks.. She made no attempt to reach out to Jemma, but occasionally their bodies brushed against each other momentarily. Jemma longed for her to step closer, to touch her as she had done in the previous week. Was she teasing Jemma, tormenting her by withholding what she knew she wanted, or was she waiting, sending the message that it was Jemma’s turn to make a move? Jemma hesitated but when her stop arrived and the woman turned away towards the door, she finally could restrain herself no longer. She reached out and her hand connected with her ass.

It wasn’t a gentle touch like the woman had given her a week before, it was clumsy and obvious, so obvious that several other passengers noticed and looked at her in surprise.

The woman hurried away without looking back. Only the way she had clenched her buttocks told Jemma that her message had been received.
 
The text arrived just as Jemma reached home that evening.

‘Now you’ve touched me, you mustn’t fuck with your boyfriend again. Don’t even touch him. I couldn’t cope with that.’

As she stepped inside her door, her boyfriend came towards but she flinched away. He looked puzzled and hurt, but retreated to the living room.

‘Jemma,’ he spoke from the kitchen door as she was preparing their supper, ‘I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. At least, tell me so that I know. Please.’

But all Jemma could do was to try to reassure him that he had not done anything wrong. He was not convinced, announced his intention to sleep on the sofa, and had left by the time she woke.

Not knowing what to expected, she caught her train as usual and found the mysterious already in the carriage when she boarded. She pushed her way through to Jemma.

‘Have you fucked him?’ she asked in a normal voice.

Jemma looked around, worried that the words had carried, but no one seemed to have noticed. She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

‘And have you touched his body at all?’

Again, Jemma shook her head.

‘Good, that’s good, Jemma, I’m Emma, we can be friends now.’

Jemma did not know what to say. Fortunately, Emma had plenty to say.

‘You can touch me now, now that you’re not touching him. I know you want to.’

She smiled as she watched Jemma’s eyes looking around.

‘Don’t worry, no one will notice. We could do all sorts of things and no one would care.’

Jemma reached out tentatively and touched Emma’s dress.

‘That’s good, Jemma. It’s silk, feel it, feel my body beneath it. I’m naked. Can you feel the warmth of my body against your hand, responding to you?’

‘Yes,’ it was the first word Jemma had trusted herself to say.

‘Touch me, anyway you like, pretend you are just checking how the fabric lies against by body.’

Jemma touched the shoulders of the dress, felt along the arms, and for a moment held Emma’s hands.

Emma closed her eyes and smiled.

Jemma risked a brush across her breasts as if picking some fluff off the material, only for Emma to press her body forward, trapping Jemma’s hands between them.

‘Feel my tits, how ripe they are, how ready for you to touch. Would you like to kiss them, now?’

But Jemma shook her head and hastily pulled her hands away. Emma grabbed them and placed them on her ass.

‘Feel my buttocks, properly, not like that grope yesterday.’

Jemma cupped the firm buttocks in her hands and squeezed gently.

‘You can do it harder than that, I don’t mind some rough.’

Jemma squeezed and then dug in her nails as the train jolted across some points. When the door opened at the next stop, Emma calmly removed Jemma’s hands and stepped off the train without a backward glance.
 
Jemma walked slower and slower the closer she got to her home after work. She had not heard from her boyfriend all day, but she was sure he would be waiting for her and there was bound to be a terrible scene. But as she turned the final corner, she froze in astonishment.

There, on her doorstep, was Emma, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chin, a small suitcase beside her. She stood up as she saw Jemma approach.

‘Hi,’ she smiled, ‘don’t worry, he’s left, took all this things in a van. I watched him go,’ she added as a final assurance. ‘I thought I’d stay,’ she glanced at the case.

Jemma let her in and stared, not knowing what to say, but Emma wasn’t fazed.

‘You get us a drink, while I go and change the sheets. I don’t want that guy’s DNA on me.’ She shuddered.

When she returned, she was carrying a sheets and pillow cases at arm’s length. Jemma stood back as she packed them into the washing machine before handing over the glass of wine.

Emma led them to the sitting room and settled on the sofa. Jemma waited, looked unsure, made for a chair, but then turned back and dropped onto the opposite end of the sofa.

‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers.’

The girls raised their glasses to each other, sipped, and waited. Neither spoke. Jemma knew she had to say something and made several false starts, as Emma settled back with a smile on her face. It was almost as if she knew this conversation would have to take place before they could go any further.

‘It’s like this-’

‘What I’m trying to say …’

‘It’s just that-’

Finally, she took a run at it.

‘Emma, I’ve never been in this position before. With a girl. I didn’t have a crush on anyone at school, not one of the senior girls, not even the cute French assistant. I didn’t even explore with one of my friends. It just wasn’t like that for me. I was into boys right from the get go and they were into me.’

She stared helplessly at Emma, hoping for a response, but none came.

‘What I mean is that, look you’re still a teenager, barely out of High School, and I’m old enough to be your mother, but-’

She took a long gulp of the wine, almost emptying her glass.

‘Damn it, Emma, you make me feel things I’ve never felt before. I want to make you feel like that, but … I just don’t know what to do.’

This seemed to be what Emma had been waiting for. She put her glass onto the floor and stood up.

‘There’s no need to worry. It will come naturally, you’ll see. Let’s take a shower together to help you relax.’
 
One slick movement of her hand and a shrug of her shoulders, left Emma’s dress on the floor. she kicked off her shoes and turned slowly for Jemma to view her body. Short, slim, pure, soft olive skin, her tits little more than swellings on her chest, her nipples so dark they were almost black, a bald crotch like a slit, and her ass – the ass that Jemma had grabbed on the train – tight. She looked quizzically up at Jemma, as if waiting.

Waiting for Jemma to follow suit and disrobe.

Jemma understood the look, but hesitated. Her body, she knew, could not compare to Emma’s. Pale with a slight belly, broad hips, tits that were beginning to sag, nipples that were bright red when they appeared, broad hips, a well padded ass, underarm hair, and a triangle of pubes that needed a trim. Her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend she corrected herself, liked the hairy look.

In the end, she could delay no longer and was soon turning to allow Emma a 360 degree view. Emma’s expression was inscrutable as she simply took Jemma by the hand and stepped under the hot running water.

Emma’s hand glided over Jemma’s body so lightly that she could not tell whether it was her touch or the water or the suds that slide over her curves. Jemma turned slowly under the shower, allowing Emma access wherever she wanted to do. When Emma finally stopped, Jemma knew it was her turn, but she felt clumsy by comparison. Her movement were too fast, she touch too hard. In the end, Emma took her hand and guided it, slowing the pace, directing it to the places that made her purr and shudder.

As the water ran cold, Emma switched off the shower and reached out for a towel. She began to pat Jemma dry, steadily increasing the pressure on her nipples and pussy. Then, with the water still dripping from her body, she dropped to her knees, tilted her head back and brought her lips up to kiss Jemma’s pussy.
 
Jemma’s knees weakened as Emma’s tongue worked her crotch. Her boyfriend, ex boyfriend, had been good at oral, the best ever, or so she had thought at the time. But this was so much better. Emma knew, as no man could ever know, what a woman wanted, just where she needed to be touched, and how to vary between broad laps and sharp prods with the tips of the tongue, probing between her lips and tickling at the head of her clit.

And when Emma snapped her teeth over the clit, Jemma snapped her thighs together trapping Emma’s head.

Emma rolled Jemma’s slit between her teeth before wrenching her head free and smiling up at Jemma.

‘Did you enjoy that?’

‘Fuck, yes,’ Jemma gasped.

‘You want more?’

‘Holy fucking shit, yes,’ Jemma screamed, desperate for this pleasure to continue.

‘Well,’ Emma stepped back, ‘you can have more, but-’ she turned and walked away, ‘only when you’ve given me something that I want.’

Jemma followed her to the bedroom where Emma was kneeling on the bed, her ass uppermost, with her hands spreading her buttocks.

‘Lick my ass,’ Emma ordered, ‘and if you are good, and I mean really good, I may give you more of what you want.’

Jemma stared at the crack and the puckered hole at its centre.

Emma looked over her shoulder. ‘Come on, darling, what are you waiting for.’
 
Jemma hung back. Emma wanted her to do something she had never done to anyone, ever, and no one had ever done it to her.

She shuddered at what she was being asked to do, but knew she would have to do before Emma would resume the delicious treatment she had been giving her pussy.

And her own buttocks clenched at the thought that later Emma might do the same to her. Perhaps Jemma might even pluck up the courage to ask that she do it, or even order her to.

So Jemma approached and knelt beside the bed. She moved Emma's hands away, took hold of her buttocks and spread them open. Slowly she lowered her head until she was close enough to reach out with the tip of her tongue and touch the top of the crack. at first contact, Emma pushed her butt back towards Emma, and began to moan. Jemma withdrew far enough that only the tip of here tongue was in contact and began her slow process towards the hole, with Emma's moaning growing louder the closer she came until, as her tongue passed over it, she let out a scream and thumped the bed with her fists. With Emma now silent, Jemma's tongue continued until it met pussy. Unsure what Emma wanted, Jemma began the return journey, only to hear Emma's moan again, growing louder and louder. This time she stopped over the hole and blew on it, a steady stream of warm breath.

Emma's reaction took her completely by surprise.
 
Emma shot upright, onto her knees, spun round and slapped Jemma hard across her face. Before Jemma could react, Emma had grabbed her by her hair.

‘Bitch, what did I tell you? I told you to lick my ass, not tickle it or blow on it, lick it. Which of those words don’t you understand? LICK MY ASS Got it.’

Another slap caught Jemma unawares.

‘When I give you an order, you obey it. OK. Got that yet. Don’t think you know better than I do what I want. You don’t. Maybe one day you’ll understand my needs and desires and provide them without being told. But that is obviously a long way off. Until then, I’m making it easy for you – just DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD.’

She pushed Jemma onto the bed.

‘Shit, I suppose I’ll have to show you what to do.’

She rolled Jemma onto her stomach.

‘Now, put one hand on each buttock.’

‘Good, that’s it. You’re getting the idea. Now pull them apart. Good, well done, sweetie.’

Jemma heard a deep sigh.

‘Now, just pay attention to what I do, then you do it to me, OK?’

She didn’t wait for a reply, but buried her face between Jemma’s thighs. Her thick, moist tongue began at the back end of Jemma’s labia and swept with one swift stroke the full length of her crack, over her hole and back again. Jemma let out a gasp of surprise as all her nerves sprang alive and tingled at the unfamiliar attention. Back and forth the tongue went, long laps, each one a little faster, each one with a little more pressure, each one lingering just a fraction of a second longer as it passed her hole.

Jemma’s breathing was faster and faster, the more Emma’s attention concentrated around her ass hole. She began to purr and her stomach contracted with pleasure.

The lapping stopped as Emma curled the tip of her tongue. All Jemma could feel now was the pressure of the tip as it moved around and around, in ever decreasing circles, until it pushed, forcing its way inside. Jemma cried out in surprise but, forced herself to relax and enjoy the sensation. Soon one of her hands moved off her buttock onto her clit and began rubbing vigorously, only to be pulled sharply away.

Emma’s tongue worked vigorously and her finger replaced Jemma’s pressing and rubbing her clit until Jemma could hold herself no longer.

She screamed and shuddered and shook and lost all awareness of what was happening in the room around her. when she opened her eyes, her hair was matted to her forehead and Emma was sitting cross legged beside her.

‘Now,’ she asked quietly, ‘do you understand?’

Jemma nodded.

‘Then fucking get on with it,’ she was told and Emma lay on her face, parted her cheeks and waited.

But Jemma was not willing to be so compliant. She had never been slapped around before and had no intention of accepting it now, certainly not from someone who was little more than a child. Instead of obeying, she raised her hand and landed a hard smack on Emma’s left buttock and then on her right.

‘Don’t ever slap me again, do YOU understand that, BITCH?’

She waited for the explosion, but again Emma surprised her.
 
Once again, Emma did not react as Jemma had expected. As Jemma’s hand smacked onto her buttocks, Emma shot upright in surprise and then burst into a broad grin.

‘So, you want to fight do you, sweetie. Good, because I enjoy getting physical, but right now you know what I want and you know how to do it, so get on with it.’

Again she knelt on the bed, ass in the air, her head resting on the mattress and her arms stretched out before her. Jemma knelt, spread Emma’s buttocks as far as they would go and began to lick. She didn’t just want to copy what Emma had done, she wanted to do something different but something that would make Emma feel as she had done a few moments earlier.

Short laps, then long, then short again, her tongue stabbed at Emma’s hole and retreated, then she experiment with her teeth, dragging them along the depth of the crack and snapping on the dark flesh of the hole.

‘Aaarrrhhhhh,’ Emma feet began to drum a rhythm.

Jemma licked, soothing the bite with a bath of saliva, and then bit again, harder this time.

‘Ggggggrrrrhhhhh,’ the rhythm of Emma’s feet increased.

Jemma decided on one last bite before inserting her tongue. But first, laps, broad sweeps of her tongue, slowing and increasing, before-

‘AAARRRRGGGGHHHHH,’ Emma was pounding her hands on the bed and gasping for breath.

Jemma rolled her tongue as tight as she could and pushed it hard into the unresisting hole.

‘Ye-ye-yes-s-s-s,’ Emma’s head shot up and she pushed back hard against Jemma’s tongue.

Jemma’s finger hunted for Emma’s clit, and found it pulsing as she touched it. She pinched and pulled it as she probed with her tongue. Emma was now rocking from side to side.

‘Ass fucking, tongue raping, clit breaking, now, now, NOW.’

Jemma was finding it difficult to keep her tongue in place as Emma’s body rolled from side to side, fist clenched, clutching at the bedding.

And then, suddenly, Emma stopped, remaining still, apart from a slight shudder than ran through her body. She pushed herself up and crawled away to sit propped up at the head of the bed.

‘Not bad,’ she gasped, ‘for a first effort, not fucking bad at all.’

Jemma felt like a schoolgirl who had just been praised by her teacher.
 
Emma sat up on the bed, pulled a loose corner of the sheet towards her, and wiped her pussy and ass.

‘Now we’ve broken the ice, let me explain the situation to you.’

At last, Jemma thought, she was going to learn what had attracted this strange girl to her.

‘You are here,’ Emma explained, ‘to service me and give me pleasure. It may be – just may be – that you will get some pleasure out of it as well, but that is purely incidental. I picked you because you are older and mature and a woman used to being in control in your work, in your life and in your bed. That is now over. I am in control from now on.’

Jemma did not like the sound of this, but kept her counsel for the moment. She realised that she had been snared and that breaking free would not be straightforward, but there were some aspects of this that attracted her, for the moment anyway, and she might be able to manipulate this to her advantage. After all, she was older and much more experienced.

‘You will continue to go to work, because we need money and I come expensive, as you will discover. But right now I am hungry, so go and start some pasta and sauce. Let me know when it is ready and I will join you.’

Jemma went to her wardrobe to find a robe, but Emma stopped her. From now on, she would wear only what Emma told her and, for the moment, that meant nothing at all.

When Emma appeared in response to Jemma’s call, she was dressed in a dark purple thong that shimmered slightly as she walked. She smiled to herself when she saw that Jemma and noticed and continued smiling when she saw Jemma’s eyes on her dark nipples as they ate. Finally, she pushed the bowl away.

‘Now, I am going to set you a task. I have been thinking that it will get boring just having one women to service me, so I think I need another, one like you, mature and experienced. She will be a companion for you as well, which will be nice. Not someone to live with us, but someone to visit when called. I will travel with you to and from work for the next few days so that we can select a likely target, then it will be your role to persuade her to join us.’

Jemma immediately agreed. She had a flash of an idea, a way of taking control back and all with Emma’s help.

'But,' Emma's words forced her plans out of her mind, 'I feel like another fuck.'
 
When they finally put out the light that night. Emma was soon snoring softly, but Jemma tossed and turned, getting tangled in the sheet and eventually pushing it aside.

‘You’re missing cock, aren’t you.’

The sound took Jemma by surprise. She had noticed that Emma was awake.

‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘yes I am.’

‘It’s a common problem,’ Emma was sitting upright now, a serious expression on her face. ‘You’ll get used to it, in time. But meanwhile I suppose I need to help you if I am going to get some sleep.’

She slid off the bed, chatting away as she hunted through her case.

‘My mother had the same problem when my father walked out on us. They had lots of problems, always arguing about something or other, often about me, but the one thing I will say for him, he was a good fuck. You should have heard mother screaming when he was finishing her off. She went mad with frustration, so I bought a strap on and took his place until I managed to wean her off it. Now where is it? I’m sure I brought it with me, just in case. Ah yes, here it is.’

She pulled out the dark red cock and began to strap it to her belly.

‘OK, on her back, thighs wide, Emma’s coming aboard.’

She guided the dildo into Jemma’s cunt and exclaimed. ‘Goodness, you were missing it. There’s a real flood in there.’

It felt so different from her boyfriend. He had held her down with his weight and his power – both of which excited Jemma – as he thrust swiftly until she came. But Emma was feather light and kept her weight off Jemma’s chest so that all her weight was concentrated on the strap on and from there into Jemma’s cunt.

Her strokes were slow and gentle, teasing rather than thrusting, withholding Jemma’s orgasm rather than rushing towards it like her boyfriend did, eager to get himself off at the same time. Jemma closed her eyes and let Emma take control, realising that this was a special indulgence that she could not expect every night.

It must have been half an hour later when Jemma opened her eyes to look at Emma. She was still propped over her, with no sign of strain in her muscle, not a drop of sweat on her flesh, and her breathing still calm as she moved forward and back. Jemma’s body was perfectly still, but inside she was in turmoil as her orgasm slowly wound its way inside, deeper and deeper, following every nerve, tracing the line of every muscle and tender, and swamping her mind before gradually withdrawing to focus on her clit, that was expanding and throbbing. Emma had now shifted her position so that she brushed the head of the clit with each thrust.

And then it burst.

‘FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK’

It was as though Jemma’s body was hanging from her clit as it was shaken back and forth until it collapsed into a heap on the bed.

‘FFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKING CCCOOOOOOCCCK,’ she breathed.

Emma withdrew, unfastened the straps and tossed the dildo into her case.

‘Yes,’ she remarked in her business like manner. ‘That’s what mother discovered. Women think that they need a guy’s cock, but the problem is that most guys don’t know what to do with it, even when they are as good as my father. You’ll sleep now and tomorrow you’ll realise that you are well rid of the boyfriend. He’s probably already shafting some other woman who is impressed by anything longer than a few inches.’
 
When Jemma emerged from the bathroom the next morning, she found Emma already dressed in a floaty short dress and wedge sandals, holding up dressed and tossing them aside onto the bed.

‘These are for you today. I’ll be coming with you on the train.’

She held up a tight jersey tube dress in light grey.

‘Wear that today. No need for underwear, it will only show through. And those patent black sling back heels, I like those.’

Jemma stared at the dress. It was one of her favourites and showed her off to perfection, but it really was not suitable for work, as someone would quickly point out to her. She tried to explain to Emma, but she cut her off.

‘I don’t give a fuck what you want. Haven’t you got the message yet? What matters – the only thing that matters from now on – is what I want. And I want you to wear that dress. Put it on or you’ll be late.’

The pair made the train just in time to squeeze between the closing doors crushing themselves between other passengers. A few minutes later, Jemma felt her dress being pushed up as Emma’s legs gripped her thigh.

‘I was right to come with you. God, I need to fuck. It gets me like this sometimes, which is why I need you around.’

She began to rub against Jemma’s firm flesh. she worked steadily, pushing back against other passengers who jostled around her for space. A few looked suspiciously at the couple, but most were preoccupied with their own thoughts or phones.

‘Don’t look so worried, Jemma,’ Emma was sliding up and down now on the trail of slime that she was leaving, ‘read your emails like everyone else. I’ll let you know if I need you to do anything.’

Two stations down the line and Emma’s breath began coming in sharp bursts and her thighs clamped onto Jemma’s.

‘Fuck,’ she exclaimed, ‘sweet fuck.’

Several passengers glanced over at her and Jemma jumped in surprise.

‘Ass,’ Emma hissed at her.

Jemma looked puzzled.

Emma’s teeth were chattering now.

‘Ass,’ she spoke louder now and those around took notice. ‘You know where it is, you were licking it last night. I need your finger up my ass, come on, quick, I’m close.’

Jemma froze hoping Emma would cum and the moment would pass, but she didn’t and it didn’t. Emma grabbed her left breast and squeezed hard, twisting and pulling at her nipple.

‘Now, bitch, come on.’ They were fast becoming the centre of curiosity if not attention.

Jemma slid her hand under Emma’s skirt and moved over her buttock to glide into her crack. As soon as she had slipped into her hole, Emma clenched her buttocks and began to shake while Jemma worked as vigorously as she dared with her finger, keeping her eyes closed so as not to see the reactions of her fellow travellers.

‘YES, YES, YES.’

Everyone was looking in their direction now.

‘Phew,’ Emma threw her head back, ‘fuck that was good.’ Her body began to relax. ‘OK, I don’t need this any more.’ She took hold of Jemma’s hand and pulled it out, pushing it towards her mouth. ‘Lick yourself clean, sweetie, there’s a good girl.’

Jemma, reluctantly and aware that she was under scrutiny, popped her finger into her mouth and sucked it clean.
 
Jemma pulled the hem of her dress as far down her legs as the material would stretch, but she could not help it riding up with every step she took along the street and even when she was in the office, any more than she could control the bounce of her breasts. It was only a quarter of an hour after arriving that her manager summoned her to her office.

‘Jemma,’ she began, ‘that is a lovely dress and it suits you perfectly. But I am not sure that is the right occasion for it.’ She waited for Jemma to provided the required explanation for her attire.

‘It’s a long story,’ Jemma began tentatively.

‘I’m sure it is,’ Amanda replied, ‘and no doubt it has something to do with not having time to get home to change before coming into work.’

Jemma sighed with relief at her boss inventing an excuse for her. She chose not to disabuse her.

‘And,’ Amanda continued, ‘your determination to get to work on time does you credit. But it really is distracting for the men in the office and,’ she coughed, ‘some of the women as well.’

Jemma looked up and they held each other’s gaze for just a fraction too long.

‘Look,’ Amanda was the first to break the spell, ‘I have a couple of spare outfits here, in case I find myself in a similar position. Why don’t I lend you a trouser suit, we are about the same size, I think.’ Her eyes took notional measurements across Jemma’s body.

‘Thank you, Amanda, really so much, thank you. I would like to tell you why I am dressed like this, though.’ Already she was thinking that her boss might be a useful ally to help her break free of Emma.

‘I am sure you would, and I would love to hear it,’ Amanda laughed as she went to fetch the trouser suit.

The suit fitted quite well, although it was tighter around the crotch than Jemma would have preferred and she couldn’t fasten the jacket because her breasts were somewhat larger than Amanda’s, but it served its purpose until lunch break. Jemma really wanted to keep it on, but was afraid that Emma would be waiting and, if not waiting, watching. So she did a quick chance and rushed out of the street, tugging at her hem as she hurried down the flight of steps to the street.

‘Stop that,’ Emma’s command took her by surprise. She was right behind Jemma, as if she had followed her out of the building.

The two women walked beside each other, like long-term friends or colleagues meeting up for lunch but it was Emma who guided their steps to a local coffee shop. Jemma’s dress rose as they walked, first up her thighs, then over the bottom of her buttocks, and Emma’s hand reached out to stroke her exposed flesh. She pointed to a table and ordered Jemma to bring the drinks there. ‘And leave your dress as it is,’ she snapped as she walked away.

As Jemma queued she was aware of eyes on her. Emma’s and others. Men and women. Nods were exchanged, glances thrown as customers drew attention to the woman displaying herself at the counter. She put their drinks on the table and settled down to sip the coffee she had been allowed to buy herself.

‘I get like this sometimes,’ Emma announced. Her tone was casual, conversational, but pitched just a little higher than necessary to carry over the sounds around them. ‘Randy, that is. I mean I’m horny a lot, every day, but some days, like today, I just need to orgasm all the time, and it gets so tiring having to get myself off. That is one of the reasons I came with you today and one of the reasons,’ her tone sharpened, ‘you need to finish that drink quickly. I can’t wait for ever.’

Jemma gulped down the hot drink and waited with trepidation for what would come next.

‘Get under the table and eat me out.’

‘What? You’re not serious, in front of all these people. I’m sorry, Emma, but this is going too far.’

Emma’s hand shot out and took hold of Jemma’s right nipple, pinching and twisting. Jemma winced.

‘No, sweetie, it is not going too far. In fact, it has barely started, and it has a long way to go. Now get on your knees, get under the table, and get to work. Unless, that is,’ she was menacing now, ‘you want me to teach you a lesson in obedience in front of everyone here.’

Jemma stared around, like a rabbit blinded by a car’s headlights. She was trapped. As quickly as she could, she slipped under the table, leaving her bare ass exposed for anyone to see, but afraid to adjust her dress. In front of her, Emma parted pulled up her dress, shifted forward on her chair, and open her thighs. Her crotch was damp and glistening and there was no mistaking the slightly sour smell of her arousal.

Jemma quickly began licking at the soggy flesh, which Emma pushed towards her. Jemma lips and tongue worked fast, hoping to get Jemma off as quickly as she could so that she could get out and away from this place and the eyes watching her. Emma had been right; she was ready and in a hurry, not interested in a long slow burn that Jemma always enjoyed, or had enjoyed with her boyfriend.

Suddenly, Emma reached under the table and gripped Jemma’s by the hair, pulling hard as she tilted her hips and bucked frantically. Jemma expected a repeat of the performance on the train that morning when Emma had cried out as she orgasmed, but she was in for a surprise.

Emma’s knees snapped shut, trapping Jemma’s face in her crotch and a spray hit her in the face, just below the eye. A fine spray, then another, then a third. Then Emma’s knees opened and she pulled back onto her seat.

‘Right, that was fine, for a first time. Sit up and we can chat for a while, you don’t have to be back at work yet, do you.’

Jemma crawled out from under the table, her face tripping with the cum spray from Emma’s orgasm. She looked around, but eyes were suddenly averted and conversations began. ‘Now, sweetie,’ Emma looked calm and composed, ‘what shall we talk about?’

'No,' she stopped Jemma's arm as it reached up to dry her face. 'Leave it, it's good for the complexion.'
 
Jemma returned the trouser suit to her manager with thanks.

‘No need to thank me,’ was the reply, ‘I’ve enjoyed watching you wearing that. It suits you. Feel free to borrow it whenever you want. Although,’ she added as an after thought, ‘it might be a good idea to keep a change of clothes here, if this is going to be a regular thing.’ The final words seemed almost a question.

Jemma ignored the question and offered to have the suit cleaned.

‘No need, Jemma, no need at all. It will be fun to know that your body has rubbed against it next time I wear it. In fact, I may change into it for my journey home.’

Again Jemma ignored the remark. ‘Speaking of journey home, I must rush or I’ll miss my train.’

‘Of course, Jemma, but don’t forget we must fix a time for you to tell me what happened last night.’

If only, Jemma thought, it would be that easy to arrange away from Emma’s watching gaze. Once outside her building, Jemma paused and searched the crowd for Emma. She was standing on the other side of the road, just to her right. Jemma walked over, wondering what the journey held in store.

‘It is commendable that you should want to come to me,’ Emma’s opening words threatened a qualification, which was not long coming, ‘but I did not tell you to do so. In future, follow your normal routine unless and until I tell you otherwise, when you will obey me immediately. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, Emma, sorry.’ She silently cursed herself for that last word.

Once in the crush of bodies on the train, Emma’s finger moved up Jemma’s thigh, pushing the dress aside until it reached her crotch, where it began to explore.

‘Wet,’ Emma announced, ‘just as I thought. I hope you didn’t stain that nice suit your boss let you wear.’

There was no point denying it, although Jemma could not imagine how she had found out. And there was no time, because Emma’s finger was working its way inside her. Instinctively, she clamped her muscles. She waited for the expected reprimand, but it did not come. Instead, Emma just grinned.

‘You’re close, aren’t you, it’s having that trouser suit rubbing on your crotch all afternoon, it’s turned you on. There’s no need to worry, just relax and let it happen like I did this morning. Now open those thighs a bit wider so I can get another finger in.’

A second finger joined the first and together began to move deeper, as though they were climbing the front wall of Jemma’s vagina. She knew where they were going and braced herself.

‘Almost there,’ it was as if Emma had read her thoughts. ‘You know you won’t be able to control yourself when I hit that spot.’

‘Please,’ Jemma mouthed. She didn’t know whether that was a plea to stop or to continue.

Emma paused for a while as the train approached the next stop and then, as the doors opened and passengers shoved to get on and off the train, her nails moved again, digging into the spongy spot.

‘ARGGGHHHHHHHH’

Some passengers turned around, one was almost trapped in the closing doors.

‘Good,’ Emma sounded like a teacher complimenting a student on an essay, but her fingers did not stop.

Jemma knew what she needed next but at first didn’t dare for fear of incurring Emma’s displeasure.

‘Go on, sweetie, you have my permission. Go on.’

Jemma pushed her hand into the top of her dress and began rolling a breast, squeezing harder as Emma’s fingers worked faster, pinching her nipples as Emma’s nails dug into her soft spot.

Another station and Emma’s fingers worked harder. Jemma’s stomach was contracting now, like she was about to give birth. Her buttocks clenched and her nipple felt like an iron rod. She began to gasp, hoping she could time her orgasm until everyone was too distracted to see who was responsible.

Emma, though, would not play that game. She slowed once again until the new passengers had found a space and then started once more. Only to repeat the same rhythm at the next stop and then the next until they approached the penultimate stop. Jemma’s knees were shaking as the doors opened and Emma thrust two more fingers inside her, held them there briefly until the doors began to close when she spread them forcing Jemma wide open and pushed them deep inside.

‘FUCK FUCK FUCK YEEESSSS OH FFF-UUUU-CCCC-KKKKK’ she chattered.

Everyone in the garage strained to see who was the cause of the noise. With her head thrown back and her mouth wide, there was no doubt about the source.

‘I had a really powerful orgasm on a train once,’ Emma remarked as they were leaving the station. ‘I think it must be the vibrations. Anyway, it was so powerful, I actually wet myself. God that was good.’

Jemma hoped that this was not something Emma was planning for her.
 
Once home, Emma produced a new silver lame thong and tossed it at Jemma.

‘Get yourself into that, sweetie. I’ve a friend coming over and you’ll be waiting on us.’

Precisely at 7 pm, the door bell rang once, sharply. To Jemma’s surprise, Emma did not send her to open the door, but pushed her aside and opened it herself. On the doorstep was a woman in uniform. Some sort of corrections officer, Jemma thought. A few years older than Emma and completely different. Not small or delicate. Tall, broad shouldered, in a uniform that showed every muscle that rippled as she moved. She stepped inside, pushed herself against Emma, took a firm grip on both her buttocks and lifted her off the ground until she could kiss her on the lips without bending.

‘Hi, it’s been a long time, you’re looking good.’

She stepped back and pushed a hand between Emma’s thighs, brought it up to her face, sniffed and then licked.

‘Nice, yeah nice, you’ve been horny, looking forward to me I expected. Now show me this new slave.’

Slave? So that was how Emma saw Jemma.

‘This is Jemma.’ Emma’s first words to her friend.

‘Jemma come and meet Finola.’

Jemma stepped forward, conscious of the intense scrutiny she was receiving from the visitor.

Finola walked round Jemma.

‘Old, obviously, older than the last one, but you can’t get the experience without the age nowadays,’ was Finola’s first appraisal. ‘Tits starting to sag, but that’s the problem with big bouncers. Mine,’ she glanced down at her small breasts, ‘mine are never going to sag. Bit of a belly bulge developing too. you need to keep her in shape. And those buttocks won’t stay that firm for long. Never mind, you can always dump her if she gets too flabby.’

‘But,’ Emma offered a more positive comment, ‘she has other compensations.’

‘I bet,’ Finola laughed and turned to Jemma. ‘Fetch me a beer and,’ she added, ‘be quick about it.’

Jemma turned to go and jumped at the hard smack across her ass. Instinctively, she spun round.

Immediately, Finola advanced on her until there the two women were almost touching.

‘So, feisty aren’t you. Think you can take me on, do you. It will be a sorry day for you if you try. I’ve had guys, big tough dudes who fancied their chances and regretted it. The last guy got his nuts cracked to teach him a lesson. He didn’t try again. Now, go get that beer and be quick about it.’

Another hard smack sent Jemma flying towards the kitchen.

When she returned with the beer, Finola was talking to Emma.

‘Yeah, I see why you invited me over. She needs training, but don’t worry, I’ll soon break her in for you.’

Jemma trembled at what that might mean for her.
 
Emma and Finola sat chatting for a while, drinking slowly, and ignoring Jemma. After about half an hour, Finola put down her empty bottle and called to Jemma.

‘Take off my boots and socks for me.’

Jemma didn’t see why she couldn’t take them off herself, but decided to avoid another spanking and knelt down to comply. She put the boots alongside Finola’s chair and folded the sweaty socks on top. Finola stood up.

‘Now take my uniform off.’

Again Jemma complied. Folding each item carefully and placing it on the back of Finola’s chair.

Finola was now standing in her white underwear. Her body was tanned deep brown and bulged with muscles.

‘Bra next,’ Finola snapped, and Jemma cursed herself for fumbling as she hurried to comply. There was something about this woman that demand respect and obedience.

‘Now the pants,’ Jemma was expecting this command and began to lower them, but Finola stopped her. ‘No, on your knees. Kneel in front of me and take them off.’

Jemma did as she was told and was about to fold them and put them on top of the bra. But again she was stopped.

‘Look at them, dearie, feel them, smell them. See how stained they are, how damp, how they stink. That’s because I work all day. Not like you in your fancy clothes, sitting in a nice air conditioned office and trotting off to the washroom if you want a pee. That’s what real work is like.’ She pulled the pants from Jemma’s grasp, rolled them into a ball and rubbed them over Jemma’s face. ‘Time she got herself messed up a bit, don’t you think, Emma?’

Jemma wasn’t sure what to do next, but decided it was best not to rise without permission. But Finola grabbed a tit in each hand and hauled Jemma to her feet.

‘Like I said, work is a messy business. My clothes get dirty and I get dirty, so I need to get clean and that,’ she grinned, ‘is what you are going to do. I hear you are very good with that tongue of yours, so get back onto your knees and lick me clean.’

Jemma hesitated. Yes, she had licked Emma, but that was after a shower and she had smelt and tasted of honey and lemon. Jemma’s expression showed her distaste. Finola’s hand was a blur as it smashed across Jemma’s face. Her instant response was to raise her hand in retaliation and to open her mouth to protest.

Finola did not flinch or move. She stared back, challenging Jemma to take her on. They stood like that for a few moments before Jemma sank to her knees and brought her face close to Finola’s crotch. The large woman spread her thighs and sent a waft of stale sweat and piss into Jemma’s face.

Jemma began to ease herself slowly forwards, but Finola took a handful of hair and pulled her towards her.

There was no alternative for Jemma but to extend her tongue and begin to lick Finola’s pussy.
 
Jemma shook as she lapped quickly at Finola’s crotch, trying to ignore the tangy taste and acrid smell. Finola stood as if on parade.

‘That’s the way, very nice, thorough coverage, plenty of saliva, leaving a nice fresh feel. This is what I make the inmates do if they displease me. I had a gang leader on her knees licking me clean only last week. He’s been a lot more polite since.’

With her crotch clean, Finola stepped back and turned.

‘Now, ass next.’

She bent forward until she was touching her toes.

Jemma stared in horror. Horror at the prospect of cleaning this woman’s ass, horror at what she had allowed to happen, at the hands of two girls half her age.

‘No.’ Her voice was weak at first, but grew stronger with the courage she gained from saying that first word. ‘NO, go clean yourself.’

She pushed Finola, causing her to stagger, topple and finally land in an undignified heap on the floor.

It was when she saw Finola’s face that she knew she had made a mistake. It wasn’t angry, she was smiling and triumphant. She had set Jemma up for this, whatever this was, whatever was about to happen. Jemma had walked straight into the trap.

‘So you won’t lick my ass. Aren’t I good enough for you? You happen to stick up tongue up Emma’s, but not mine, is that it? You let her treat you like a toy on the train and walk around her home like a pole dancer, but you’re still too high and mighty to do the same for me. well, if I can’t have my fun one way, I’ll have it another. Emma, get me that strap on, the big red one.’

Emma hurried away as Finola got to her feet.

‘You won’t be needing this.’ She ripped off the lame thong, snapping the string that held it in place, and tossed it aside. ‘I need a good work out and that is what I am going to have.’
 
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