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Amy stood daydreaming in the classroom. The religious instructor droned on and on to Amy’s students about the morality of sexuality.
“The devil will take your idle fingers and criss-cross your body with sinful desire! You must resist his wicked attempts to twist you to his perversity!” he shrieked.
Someone ought to twist you and criss-cross your body, Amy thought. Maybe a solid rodgering would take that sanctimonious stick out of your ass.
Amy had been working at the conservative Catholic school for almost six years now, and aside from the religious components to the day-to-day, it was a good gig. It paid well, and the fervour and zealous nature of culture meant she had to do very little in the way of behaviour management. She could teach her science and maths classes as she saw fit. Amy had to pay some lip service to the Catholic beliefs there, with the occasional comment about science’s lack of spirituality, but for the most part she was free to do what she liked.
This was not one of the things she liked.
She had pastoral care of a class for the last period of every day, meaning that she simply supervised a group for about an hour. In this hour, the chaplain came in to speak to the students about what they were doing wrong with their lives and how to be less evil little sinners. Amy had grown up believing these things, but hearing a middle aged man scream at teenagers about things he clearly didn’t know anything about made her feel like stabbing him in the face with a crucifix. Life just seemed too complex for his banal platitudes to be right.
She tried to let the toxic words pass over her and remember the pleasure from yesterday. Amy had woken up confused and half naked, and within an hour had two of the most intense orgasms of her life – from another woman. Amy only had a couple of (relatively) chaste relationships with men in her university years and had always considered herself to be heterosexual. However, looking at Quinne’s taut skin and firm musculature as water cascaded over her perky breasts…well, Amy thought she might need to rethink her identity. At least a bit. The memory of Quinne’s tongue dancing across her clit…
“Boys! Do not be fooled! A woman who touches herself defiles us all with her presence. If she rings the devil’s doorbell, you must not answer!”
The drivel spewing from this idiot’s mouth was almost more than she could stand, but luckily the school bell’s ringing prevented her from saying something she might have regretted later. Amy dismissed her class and did her best to ignore the obnoxious pastor on the way out. She had something better to look forward to.
After their little encounter in the shower, they had gotten dressed and stood for a moment considering one another. Amy was towelling off her hair when Quinne had sidled up to her and squeezed her ass. She squealed in surprise and batted away her hand.
“Let me finish drying off, would you?” Amy chastised.
Quinne just grinned at her.
“Why would I do that when you’ve got such a nice round ass? I just want to touch it!”
She reached around to touch her again, but Amy smacked her hand again.
“How would you feel if I wanted to fondle your body all the time?” Amy asked.
Quinne just shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
With that, the taller woman swivelled on the balls of her feet and waggled her ass at her. Amy couldn’t help but crack a smile at the display.
“That’s better,” Quinne said. “You’re so much prettier when you smile.”
Amy blushed. She wasn’t used to hearing compliments, and between Quinne’s words and physical attention, she felt a little overwhelmed.
“Uh…thanks,” she managed.
Quinne suddenly pulled Amy in close and gave her a full, deep kiss. When they parted, Amy found herself breathing faster than a moment ago. She tried to speak but Quinne held a finger up to her lips.
“Be still. I have things to do but we’re only getting started. I want more, but I realise this might be too much for you,” Quinne said.
Amy looked into the hazel eyes of the toned woman; she saw a hunger there, but also something else. It wasn’t just a lust that she saw in Quinne, but a drive, a wilfulness, a compulsion. Amy felt a thrill of excitement with a mix of fear.
Quinne continued – “Here’s the deal. If this was just a bit of after-party fun, that’s fine. But if you’d like something more intense -“she gestured towards the front door – “that’ll be open tomorrow night for you.”
36 hours had passed since Amy received that invitation. She initially dismissed it, and was almost inclined to pretend it had never happened. Amy’s previous sexual forays had ended poorly and barely even masturbated anymore since her last breakup. Her ex-boyfriend was a jerk who had slapped her after a session of heavy petting – they had been making out in his bedroom, hands excitedly exploring the other’s body. After rubbing her hands against his pants for less than a minute, she suddenly found her Beylikdüzü escort hand covered in a sticky patch. When she’d asked him if he’d come already, he grew red with rage and backhanded her.
Amy’s previous boyfriend hadn’t been much better. His trigger went off with even less effort, and afterwards he’d tell her ‘he was done’. She’d be left frustrated and angry. Amy was not inclined to risk further humiliation or cruelty from selfish pricks.
However, the more Amy thought about it, the more her curiosity was aroused. Quinne didn’t just want to be pleasured – she wanted Amy’s pleasure. Quinne had fingerfucked her and eaten her out just to see Amy come. She had to admit that there was a satisfaction in watching the other girl orgasm too, and she wondered what Quinne meant at the end of the shower –
“I’ll just have to find some other way to fuck you.”
Amy stopped for a moment as she walked out of the school, feeling a shiver run down her spine.
Time to find out what she meant.
Dusk crept around the corners of the yard as Amy approached the house. She hadn’t been paying much attention when she’d visited the first time around, but all in all, it was pretty impressive. A modern, high-ceilinged affair with wide rectangular windows. She could see into this house from the road, though there didn’t appear to be anyone inside. Amy stepped along an orange terracotta tiled pathway that led along to the white wooden front door. There was no doorknob, no handle or any kind of buzzer. She reached her hand up to knock on the door when she noticed that the door was ajar – it was just slightly out of the jamb to allow the first person by easy access.
Amy pushed the door open and called into the house.
No answer. She did her best to peer around the living room that connected to the front door, but couldn’t see anyone from this angle.
“It’s Amy,” she said, taking a step through the doorway. “You know, from yesterday?”
Despite it being the early part of the evening, the house was dark inside. A row of small incandescent lamps provided the only source of illumination within. The lights traced a clear pathway through the house towards a room in the back; Amy shut the door behind her, careful not to let it slam, and pulled her shoes off. She curled her toes as they met the cold tiled floor, but straightened them out after several seconds. After standing all day in a classroom, the coolness felt wonderful against her delicate toes.
The row of lights took her through the living room, past the doorways to the kitchen on the right and the bathroom on the left, towards the very rear of the house. Chrome fixtures glinted in the soft glow of the lamps.
Amy found herself at the entrance to the main bedroom, and she called out again.
Amy walked up to the bedroom, looking inside, and gasped. The room was absolutely gorgeous – lush white carpet, black velvet drapery, oak drawers, and a magnificent mahogany bed with Kashmir blankets. A lamp hung on each wall; each with a flickering quality that must’ve been candles rather than bulbs. She walked up to the bed and stroked the divan with her hand. The fabric felt wonderful against her skin.
She looked around the room and suddenly noticed several devices hanging from the mahogany bedhead – leather looking straps with metal studs, several plastic cylinders, and an unmistakable pair of handcuffs.
Amy had done a little bit of BDSM with her second boyfriend. Well, it could be charitably called BDSM. He had gotten himself a little pair of plastic handcuffs from the local toy store and had asked Amy if she was up for something kinky. She was intrigued and had let him cuff her to his bed. It wasn’t an enjoyable experience however; she wasn’t sure what to expect but he had simply placed his penis in her mouth, gyrating his hips for a minute until he came. The jerk had gotten a smug look on his face and stated that ‘maybe I’ll leave you there until I want to come again’. Amy had flexed her wrists and broken the cheap cuffs, pushing him off her head and then spitting out his semen on the bed. He made a yelping noise but she had walked out of his house and his life – she wasn’t going to be used like some kind of fuck-toy.
Quinne had demonstrated that she was different though – Amy wasn’t sure exactly what she was after just yet, but Quinne clearly cared about more than self-gratification.
Amy walked up the bedhead and picked up the handcuffs. They were a heavy steel affair, with a serious looking hole that must have fitted a big key.
I wouldn’t be able to break out of these things, Amy mused.
“Like the look of those things?” a voice behind her asked.
Amy jumped at the sound and whirled around. Her jaw slackened when she saw Quinne. The tall woman had her shoulder length brunette hair tied in a tight ponytail. She wore a tight, form-fitting black leotard, dark purple stilettos and a golden mask that covered her eyes. Beylikdüzü escort Quinne’s arms and legs glistened slightly; she must have lightly oiled those muscular limbs before coming in. The soft lighting in the room made her appear to be a powerful gymnast after a workout. Moist, lithe, athletic. Amy had never seen someone look so attractive before.
“Your presence here means that you’re looking for something deeper.”
It wasn’t a question. Quinne strode up to Amy next to the bed and stood in front of her, toe to toe. Quinne seemed to tower over her – Amy found herself shrinking away from the giantess, but the tall woman reached out and tenderly held her chin.
“I…well the other day…you just…” Amy stammered. Her heart raced. The girl flustered her so easily and she kept talking like an idiot. Quinne just looked into her eyes. Amy stopped and collected her thoughts.
“What can you do?” Amy asked. She pointed to the cuffs. “Is that it?”
Amy tried to sound disinterested, as if it was a ho-hum, pedestrian activity. Quinne leaned in until she was almost nose to nose with her; Amy found her smell intoxicating. She smelled nothing like other women, who normally used sickly sweet floral perfumes. Quinne was had a subtle but powerful scent; crisp, fresh and invigorating. She would call it a masculine smell, though most men she’d encountered used overwhelming and obnoxious.
After staring closely at her for a moment, Quinne leaned around to her ear and moved in even closer until lips brushed the edges of Amy’s ear.
“You aren’t ready for that yet.”
The words slithered into her ear and Amy shuddered involuntarily. Seductive sounds tickled her brain.
“We’ve got to sensitize your body first,” Quinne whispered. “Then we’ll move onto heightening your other senses.”
Quinne leaned down further and Amy felt the woman’s hot breath on her neck. Strong hands caressed each side of her body and ran the length her clothes, searching her contours. Amy had freshened up after work, but she still wore her teaching clothes – a plain white blouse and undershirt, full skirt and underwear. Quinne’s hands traced a path along her back and down her ass. As the hands reached the bottom edge of her skirt, Quinne gently bit into the side of her neck. Amy gasped, and revelled in the soft pain of teeth on her neck.
“Don’t get too excited just yet,” Quinne teased. “I’ve got big plans for you.”
With that, she lifted her head to Amy’s and kissed her hard. Amy felt herself melting under Quinne’s firm embrace, barely feeling hands unzipping the back of her skirt. Quinne bit down onto Amy’s lower lip, and pulled away just a bit. Amy inhaled sharply at the unexpected pain, but again felt a thrill of excitement at the unexpected sensation.
Amy was encircled by the taller woman’s arms. She craned her neck up and tried to kiss Quinne herself; she was met with another enthusiastic caress of soft lips on hers. Amy pulled back this time and felt her skirt fall to the ground. She felt a hand firmly grip her ass; Quinne stroked her across her cheeks. She made round circles with her hands and, occasionally, a finger would slide under her panties and rub her bare skin.
Quinne stopped rubbing and forcefully spun Amy around; she overbalanced slightly and steadied herself by planting both hands down on the bed. Quinne leaned over the top of her, and for a moment Amy thought she was going to get it from behind. However, she felt fingers searching up her ass and along the hem of her blouse. She felt it being tugged upward; she stood up straight and held her arms high as the garment was pulled over her head.
Amy stood half naked in the dimly lit room, wearing only her mismatched white bra and black panties. When the day had started, she was still uncertain as to whether she wanted to go to Quinne’s or not, but had prepared for it nonetheless by wearing her best underwear. Unfortunately for Amy, her best bra was a white push-up that gave her a noticeable cleavage, and her best panties were a black lacy number. She suddenly grew insecure about their lack of mutual functioning, wishing that she’d worn pantyhose instead.
Quinne reached for the clasp on Amy’s bra and unfastened it. Amy turned back to face the assertive woman, cupping the bra while Quinne pulled its straps off. The garment fell to the floor; Amy instinctively covered herself with her hands but Quinne pulled her hands away. Amy fidgeted uneasily as she was looked up and down.
“You’ve got a gorgeous body, you know that?” Quinne purred. “Perfectly shaped.”
Amy blushed with embarrassment.
“I don’t! My skin’s all pale, and my boobs are different sizes, and I…” Amy began to stammer. Quinne put a finger up against her lips, silencing her.
“We’re going to take all that nervous, insecure energy of yours and put in to better use,” Quinne said.
Amy looked at her with confusion. “Just what do you…?”
Quinne walked over to the small table next to the Escort Beylikdüzü bed and opened the drawer. She pulled out a black satin piece of fabric. She swaggered back towards Amy, hips swaying from side to side.
Amy watched with piqued interest as Quinne unfurled the fabric; it appeared to be nothing else than a long, thin, rectangular cloth. Quinne held it up in front of Amy’s face, smiling, and it suddenly dawned on her what Quinne planned.
“You want me blindfolded?” Amy asked nervously.
Quinne smiled even more broadly and began to wrap the cloth around Amy’s face. She found herself in complete darkness; Amy shivered involuntarily despite the slight warmth of the bedroom air. The satin felt smooth and cool on her face, and she reached up to stroke the fabric with her fingers. A voice broke the sightless silence.
“Did you know that when a human being loses one of their senses, the others become more sensitive in order to improve their chances of survival?”
Quinne’s voice had a low, husky quality. It wasn’t breathy or shaky; it sounded calm, confident, deliberate. Amy felt the blindfold tighten around her eyes, and then the other woman’s warmth seemed to slip away.
“This would normally take months to take effect. The brain needs some time to fully adapt to having lesser input.”
The voice now came from the opposite side of the room. Amy hadn’t heard footsteps or felt Quinne’s movement through the air – despite her tall stature, she could be very svelte when she wanted to. She concentrated and could just make out the opening and closing of another drawer.
Quinne spoke again – “In the right conditions however, and the right combination of sensations, we can push up a person’s sensitivity to those levels for a little while.”
Amy stood still, arms by her sides and acutely aware that she was naked except for her black panties. Cool air suddenly blew on the backs of her ear and Amy shuddered. Warm hands touched her from behind along her back, slid sensuously to the top of her shoulders and then slowly down both sides of her body. The hands reached from behind to her stomach, and traced a path along the underside of her breasts.
A voice whispered from mere centimetres away from her ears.
“And for that, you’ll need to be unable to move.”
Before she could react, the gentle hands caressing her swept down, and in one smooth motion hoisted her off the ground. Amy squealed and flailed her legs, unable to find solid ground or wriggle free. She felt herself swinging through the air and continued to shriek.
Quinne made a hushing sound and hugged Amy close to her body; the combination quieted her for a moment. She was laid gently on the bed with Quinne holding Amy’s arms high above her body.
“Lie still,” Quinne commanded.
Amy lay flat against the bed, her arms reaching up to the bedhead. She could feel Quinne’s warm body move up the bed and could hear a metallic clacking. Cold steel bindings wrapped around her wrists. Panic rose in Amy’s chest for a moment and attempted to pull away. The effort was futile however – she could feel she was cuffed to the bedhead and her wrists weren’t going to pull free of these restraints. Amy began to hyperventilate.
“Quinne! Let me go! I don’t want…” she exclaimed, muscles tensing and back arching.
A hand touched down on her naked belly and a finger gently pressed on Amy’s lips. Quinne made a soft shushing sound.
“Be calmed. You won’t be hurt. This is all part of the fun, my lovely,” Quinne said.
Amy breathed in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth. The smell of Quinne’s perfume came back to her and she relaxed her back, sinking down on the soft duvet. She pulled again on the handcuffs, carefully this time, feeling the restraint’s firm tug on her wrists. The panic was subsiding, but her excitement remained high – in fact, she felt a warm burbling in her stomach and adrenaline begin to course throughout her veins. The hand on her naked belly flexed and fingertips made lazy circles around her navel. The finger on her lips slid down off her mouth and trace a line down her exposed neck towards her breasts.
“I want you to describe what you’re feeling,” Quinne said in a low husky tone. “Focusing on the sensation will heighten your experience of it.”
“But…that sounds embarrassing,” Amy responded.
The higher hand began to caress Amy’s soft breasts, drawing a slow path through her cleavage, around, and back up to her collarbone.
“There’s no one here but you and me. Tell me what you feel,” Quinne said, more firmly this time.
Amy attempted to look down at her body out of habit; the blindfold was still in place and she was in complete darkness. She breathed in, letting air fill her lungs and she could feel delicate fingertips dancing on her body.
“I feel…” Amy took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Surging energy. I feel your fingertips on my stomach and my neck. I feel the air on my body.”
“Does anything feel different to normal?” Quinne asked.
Amy ruminated on this for a moment.
“I can feel everything on and around my body, and I’m aware that I’m nude except for my panties. I…hmm.”
Amy could feel a smile coming across her.
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