Anniversary Part 2 :: Lesbian Sex Stories :: True Lesbian Sex Experiences

First Anniversary Part Two

I hadn't. Not with my pussy threatening to drip onto my shoes, at least. We got to her floor, and she led me to her apartment. At first, I couldn't point to any specific changes. The living room looked the same. Maybe the kitchen? No, that was the same, olive oil bottles and everything.

I asked about the remodeling, and she innocently replied..."Oh, all of the remodeling was in the bedroom, sweetie." I've got rather pale skin, but I'm sure I turned even whiter when she said this. I didn't even ask, I just let her lead me into the bedroom...and was presented with a sight that made my heart leap into my throat. This was no longer a bedroom. This was, however soft and plush, nothing less than a sex dungeon. The king size bed was still present, still centered to take full advantage of the breathtaking view of downtown Chicago. But the sheets were now black satin, and the pillows dark red chenille, apparently inspired by my suggestions a few weeks earlier. To the head and foot boards were tied two sets of fur-lined leather cuffs...for wrists and ankles. On the wall next to the bed hung various and sundry toys. And set in the middle of the bed was some sort of...seat. It was elevated slightly, and affixed to the sides of the bed by thick metal rods. Michelle tossed me over one shoulder and carried me to the bed, setting me down.

She removed her clothes for me, letting me drink in the sight of her as my thighs involuntarily held my forearms to my glowing vulva. Her breasts, larger than mine. Her hips, wider. Her pubic hair thick and luxurious, trimmed only near the center to allow easy access. Once she was nude she stood me up and began to undress me. My shirt, my slightly damp bra. Her height placed her breasts almost at eye level for me. She knew I loved her breasts, and moved closer, just close enough that they were almost touching my face. She slid down as she slid my panties down with her. She lifted each foot out of them, tossed them aside, and as she stood back up, she licked me. Her tongue started at my clitoris, slowly trailing upward. My tummy, my breastbone, until she arrived at my lips. She paused there, kissing me with the taste of my own need on her lips. She took my bottom in her hands, and lifted me onto the bed. We began to make out, her hands gently caressing my breasts as she kneeled on the floor in front of me, my own small hands on her shoulders.

After drinking in each other's lips for several minutes, she took me in her arms, moving me farther up onto the bed. Finally I arrived with my bottom on the strange cushion fixed in the center of the bed. It was molded to support my bottom and lower back. And there were restraints I hadn't noticed before. They were wide strips of soft fabric, designed to fold over my legs as I sat in the cushion. A third such strap was under my waist. It was wider, and slightly tapered like a corset. She looked me in the eyes. "What's our safe word?" "California." "Okay."

First she affixed my waist with the corset. This centered my bottom on the cushion. It was snug, but soft, and supported my back comfortably. The straps at my thighs, when she secured them, held my thighs open at about a 45 degree angle. Just enough to fully expose my genitals. My pelvis was completely immobile, elevated, and I couldn't close my thighs. Fortunately she had placed a huge towel under the seat, knowing how leaky my body would get. Of course, I could reach down and fumble the straps and corset open if necessary. She fixed this rather quickly, as I felt the fur-lined cuffs being secured around my wrists and ankles. Only when I was comfortably restrained spread-eagle on the bed did I notice the mirror on the ceiling.

I watched myself strain against the bonds to no avail. I couldn't move my thighs a single degree closer together to cover my private parts, and I couldn't move my pelvis an inch. Mercifully, she didn't start with my exposed genitals. She left me lying there, the warm air brushing my skin, and went to get something. Restrained as I was, I couldn't turn very far to see her.

She came back to the satin bed with a set of two small plastic cups connected to flexible tubes. She generously licked my left nipple and areola, coating them in her mouth's wetness, and set the cup upside down on my small breast. Looking into my eyes as she moved to the other breast, she repeated the process with my right nipple. The tubes leading from them she then connected to something under the nightstand I couldn't see. I heard a low humming sound, and the soft rubber edges of the cups pressed into my breasts as the cups began sucking my nipples. The device under the nightstand must have been a breast pump. We had been experimenting with making me lactate, by various hormones and massage techniques.

Some months before it had started to pay off, as I began to lactate whenever I was sufficiently aroused. I could feel my milk leaking through my erect nipples as the pump did its work. Michelle helped the process by gently rubbing warm cherry-scented oil into my breasts around the edges of the nipple cups. As she did this she gently kissed my lips. "Are you okay?" I nodded, trying to arch my back as my breasts began to throb with pleasure...

The pleasure from my breasts radiated to my genitals, but I could not rub my thighs together to stimulate myself. I tried to look down, and Michelle realized I needed something done to my pussy. She moved her right hand from my breast down to my swollen vulva, not focusing on any one part, but cupping my sex. She firmly pressed the palm of her hand into my genitals, giving me a surface to press back against as I closed my eyes and let go.

Keeping her hand there, she stretched to turn off the breast pump. She removed first one nipple cup, then the other, tossing the plastic cups off to the side of the bed. I continued leaking milk, the thin smooth white nectar streaming down the sides of my breasts, as much as was possible on my back. As she drank from my breasts, she began gently to massage my labia. For a moment, she brought her hand back up, soaking it in my milk before returning it to my pussy. Her masturbation of me continued...slow, gentle, pleasurable but mild. She wasn't going to make me orgasm too soon. I moaned in gratitude as she relaxed my body and mind, licking the milk from my chest and whispering her love.

Once I was lubricating freely, unable to contain my moaning, she moved from the bed...I heard her getting something, but I didn't see what. When she came back, in her hand was a thick silver vibrator. She turned it on by twisting the bottom end, but I could not quite make out any sound coming from it. But when she brought the smooth, warmed, tapered end to my leaking nipple, I knew it was working. Slowly she dragged the milk-dipped vibrator down my body. Its vibrations pleasured first my small breast...then my tummy...finally she began teasing my clitoris.

My body was screaming for more, but I couldn't move at all. I needed desperately to press my clitoris against the vibrator, or at least to feel it inside me. But my clitoris's only steady comfort was the warm air, punctuated by intermittent kisses from the vibrator. I began sobbing, and finally she relented and gave me what I needed. I was slowly, gently filled by the vibrator, and she slid back up to kiss my lips before moving back down.

Once there she began to massage my labia with her fingers as she sucked my clitoris. My genitals felt raw, hypersensitive. Every touch was extremely intense, but she knew how to stimulate me just enough to avoid causing me pain. As she sensed I was close to orgasm, she took her tongue from my clitoris and left me with only the vibrator and her fingers on my labia. She changed techniques on my labia, using them to stretch the skin leading to my hood. My clitoris couldn't feel anything directly, only the pressure and stretching near it. I would not be able to orgasm without her tending to my clit.

My body was ready, my vagina lubricating openly, but she would not take care of my clitoris. She angled the vibrator upwards, pressing against my G-spot...and I could just feel the vibrations in my clit. This would not let me come, but I was getting closer. Just as my insides began to heat up, she began sliding the vibrator in and out. A plateau was coming, but not an orgasm...I began to actively grip the vibrator. I began crying out amid the intensifying pleasure...and she delivered the coup de grace. She gently pulled back my hood, squeezed the shaft of my clitoris...and slowly dragged the length of her wet soft warm tongue directly across the exposed tip.

My pelvis exploded. My pussy went from simply being warm and twitchy to convulsing uncontrollably. I began screaming, and she quickly undid the straps on my thighs so that I could press them together. As my legs wrapped around my spasming genitals, she undid the wrist cuffs...and finally I was able to hold my pussy and ride out the convulsions. She opened the corset, letting me sit up, and sat behind me...she took my hands away from my private parts, replacing them with her own and expertly stroking me to prolong the orgasm. Her fingers, longer and more skilled than my own, made my softest flesh throb in ways I never could on my own, pulsing and quivering, the pleasure intensifying in ways I couldn't fathom despite having experienced her love before. It was almost frightening, beyond my understanding, but a perfect vindication of the trust I placed in Michelle every time I exposed myself for her and confessed my need. She owned me. I needed her to own me, needed to be her plaything, her pet. Her domination of me meant bliss, meant safety, meant satisfaction.

Finally I collapsed in her arms, smiling, coughing, my body spent, unable to lactate or lubricate any more. She leaned over to disconnect the cushion, and swung it off the bed. It was followed by the milk and lube soaked towel. She had another towel ready, and used it to wipe the sweat from my forehead and the juice from my pussy. As I snuggled up to her, pressing my back against her breasts, she pulled the heavy comforter from its folded position at the foot of the bed and wrapped us in it. And we lay there, her hand cupping my swollen vulva with the soft towel, until I fell asleep in her arms.

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