Read Online Put Me In a Skirt and Hurt Me: The Strictly Lesbian Adventures of Mistress Sophia by A.L. Bryce - Free Book Online
Authors: A.L. Bryce
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Porsche! Go!” Willow pushed her busty pal toward the door.
“Really? It’s 2 in the afternoon! We don’t have to be there until 7 ... what the ... ”
“Go! I not only prepare physically but I have to prepare mentally. Don’t you? Now get out!”
“I have to prepare mentally, blah blah blahbettyblah…”Porsche walked out the door without another word.
Willow stood trembling. “This is not working. This is not working. What the hell have I gotten myself into? What am I going to do?”
She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a Blue Moon beer. She popped the top and made sure to put it in the recycle bin, not the regular trash as she’d seen Porsche do. She took a good slug, then another. She never drank before a session with Sophia—it was prohibited—but right now she needed something to gird her loins and the Blue Moon helped.
She sat down on her bed, glancing over at tonight’s required attire, and burst into tears.
Porsche strolled down the street vigorously. Like, first I have to picture myself under my mistress and then I have to picture myself in front of my mistress and then I have to picture myself a PIECE OF SHIT! Tears welled up in her eyes. And then I have to picture myself ... picture ... ooohh. What the fuck does Sophia have that I don’t have? Why can’t she “prepare” for me?
And then Porsche really started to cry as it hit her like a brick truck.
She was in love with Willow.
Ten minutes before 7.
Sophia closed her book, stretched her legs out straight, reached her arms over her head, and yawned like a cat. She glanced around the room, surveying it carefully, verifying that everything was in place.
She went into the bathroom and reapplied her lipstick, then double-checked that all toys were where they should be. Tonight was going to be ... right. It was going to ... she didn’t know how to put it…it was going to put her back where she belonged. Not to her subs, but to herself. She yearned to have her power back and she knew tonight would do it.
On the stroke of 7, she heard a key in the door and then the sound of it softly shutting behind ... whom? Willow or Porsche? Certainly, it was Willow. She’d never be late. Porsche was proving to be a disappointment. She didn’t take this seriously. If she didn’t show marked improvement, tonight would be the last night she would be invited over. There were plenty of subs out there. It wasn’t worth wasting time on a woman who couldn’t follow protocol.
She glanced at the clock. Two minutes after. By now, Willow would be sitting on the new orange chair in the living room, a Flight Recliner from Design Within Reach. She’d once overheard a woman saying, “Design Within Reach? Within reach for who? RICH FOLKS, that’s who! I can’t even afford the knock-offs!”
For Sophia it was all within reach. And reach she did.
Willow would be straddling the chair, her back straight, each leg thrown over one of the chair’s arms. She’d be open, waiting, her pussy dripping by the time Sophia deigned to enter the room. Her arms would be up over her head, clasping the back of the chair. She’d have on the black hood that had been placed there for her and she’d be wearing a frilly black satin bra and tap pants set. She’d look beautiful.
Seven after. The door opened again and closed rather loudly and then, “Oopsy!”
Porsche had arrived.
14
S OPHIA TAPPED HER TOE and waited . The girl should be getting herself positioned at the dining table. Lying on the dining table, her arms and legs should be spread out a la Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man . If she’d done it correctly, there should be a pillow under her hips, raising her pussy for display: her pussy couched in red lace panties with slits front and back. Her nipples should be rouged deep red and peeking up over a cupless red lace bra. A red silk blindfold and black rubber ball gag had been left for her to don. Sophia wondered if Porsche had obeyed her.
Porsche lay
“Really? It’s 2 in the afternoon! We don’t have to be there until 7 ... what the ... ”
“Go! I not only prepare physically but I have to prepare mentally. Don’t you? Now get out!”
“I have to prepare mentally, blah blah blahbettyblah…”Porsche walked out the door without another word.
Willow stood trembling. “This is not working. This is not working. What the hell have I gotten myself into? What am I going to do?”
She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a Blue Moon beer. She popped the top and made sure to put it in the recycle bin, not the regular trash as she’d seen Porsche do. She took a good slug, then another. She never drank before a session with Sophia—it was prohibited—but right now she needed something to gird her loins and the Blue Moon helped.
She sat down on her bed, glancing over at tonight’s required attire, and burst into tears.
Porsche strolled down the street vigorously. Like, first I have to picture myself under my mistress and then I have to picture myself in front of my mistress and then I have to picture myself a PIECE OF SHIT! Tears welled up in her eyes. And then I have to picture myself ... picture ... ooohh. What the fuck does Sophia have that I don’t have? Why can’t she “prepare” for me?
And then Porsche really started to cry as it hit her like a brick truck.
She was in love with Willow.
Ten minutes before 7.
Sophia closed her book, stretched her legs out straight, reached her arms over her head, and yawned like a cat. She glanced around the room, surveying it carefully, verifying that everything was in place.
She went into the bathroom and reapplied her lipstick, then double-checked that all toys were where they should be. Tonight was going to be ... right. It was going to ... she didn’t know how to put it…it was going to put her back where she belonged. Not to her subs, but to herself. She yearned to have her power back and she knew tonight would do it.
On the stroke of 7, she heard a key in the door and then the sound of it softly shutting behind ... whom? Willow or Porsche? Certainly, it was Willow. She’d never be late. Porsche was proving to be a disappointment. She didn’t take this seriously. If she didn’t show marked improvement, tonight would be the last night she would be invited over. There were plenty of subs out there. It wasn’t worth wasting time on a woman who couldn’t follow protocol.
She glanced at the clock. Two minutes after. By now, Willow would be sitting on the new orange chair in the living room, a Flight Recliner from Design Within Reach. She’d once overheard a woman saying, “Design Within Reach? Within reach for who? RICH FOLKS, that’s who! I can’t even afford the knock-offs!”
For Sophia it was all within reach. And reach she did.
Willow would be straddling the chair, her back straight, each leg thrown over one of the chair’s arms. She’d be open, waiting, her pussy dripping by the time Sophia deigned to enter the room. Her arms would be up over her head, clasping the back of the chair. She’d have on the black hood that had been placed there for her and she’d be wearing a frilly black satin bra and tap pants set. She’d look beautiful.
Seven after. The door opened again and closed rather loudly and then, “Oopsy!”
Porsche had arrived.
14
S OPHIA TAPPED HER TOE and waited . The girl should be getting herself positioned at the dining table. Lying on the dining table, her arms and legs should be spread out a la Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man . If she’d done it correctly, there should be a pillow under her hips, raising her pussy for display: her pussy couched in red lace panties with slits front and back. Her nipples should be rouged deep red and peeking up over a cupless red lace bra. A red silk blindfold and black rubber ball gag had been left for her to don. Sophia wondered if Porsche had obeyed her.
Porsche lay
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