Degrees Of Lewdity
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Degrees Of FreedomChapter 16 free porn video
Zoe
There was so much that needed talking about. My holidays, some questions that had popped up during the brunch, the trip to Boston, the flat I still rented but never went to. That needed to be talked about soon, not just because of the money, I'd pay at least the same amount to Ann as I paid Winters now. But ... well, when I had let myself in, stripped and went to join Mistress it had really felt like coming home. A feeling I never had in that other place. It was a place to sleep, eat, work, but it was not home.
But nothing was discussed at all. Even Ann's first words were totally superfluous, although very welcome. I knew that the stockings had worked. If I hadn't already seen it in her eyes as I walked up to her and knelt down I would have known the moment my tongue had touched her dripping sex.
The scent of our lovemaking hung around us as we ate, for once not taking our time to savour the meal, or at least not much more than was necessary. Without either of us having said a word we both knew what the other wanted and it was just as well that we both wanted the same. Without really hurrying but definitely not lingering either we got ready for bed.
It was a subtle change and I couldn't pin down what exactly had triggered the change. But the effect was profound. One minute we were lovers, the next she was my Mistress and I was her girl. Her firm grip on my hair wasn't the reason, just a confirmation of that change. I couldn't even know what was better. I - and Ann too, as I happen to know first hand - had enjoyed our lovemaking earlier very much. Both intent on pleasing the other but just as ready to be pleased by the other, if that makes sense.
Yes, I loved both the being lovers and being Mistress and slave times. For me, each of them had it's points I loved especially, different emotions that were triggered. But then again I loved Ann, so that might be the reason I loved both as much as I did.
Now it was different. Now Ann was in charge and I felt myself getting in serving mode. And serve I did, pleasing Mistress as good as I could and being her girl to play with as she wished until we lay once more aside each other, utterly exhausted, utterly satisfied, utterly in love.
Two of her fingers buried in my wetness, letting me feel that I was hers, our lips only parted to say how much we loved each other I fell asleep, my last thought being that I truly felt more alive and much more love than ever before.
The next morning while sitting at the table, sipping coffee and eating breakfast, my pussy still tingling and a few body parts still a bit aching from the night before I thought it was about time to start dealing with the various issues that spun around in my head.
Putting my cup down I looked at Ann. Nah, that's not true, I had been looking at her the whole time. "I've been thinking about the flat I rent. It's not much use when I'm never there. I ... umm ... would like to move in here. With you."
Mistress took another sip from her tea before she answered smiling, her words in turn painting a smile on my face. "I was begining to think you'd never ask."
"Great. You know," I went on, waving my arm to take in the whole flat, "this feels like home."
"It is home. Our home.
The tingling between my legs intensified and my heart made a double beat.
"I will pay, of course."
Ann looked at me for a moment before she spoke. "We split household bills and food." Her tone leaving no doubt that she wasn't willing to discuss this any further.
"OK, fair enough. Then I'll move in with you as soon as possible. It's not much that needs moving anyway."
"Wonderful. Why don't you give your notice and we'll go later in the week to get your stuff. Or next week. This weekend will be... ," she paused for a second, then went on, " ... busy."
"Oh?"
"I too have something to ask, this time it's not a command, not exactly, I have something I want you to do for me."
As if there was a difference between the two. Whether she commanded or asked, if I could do it I would do it for her.
"Yes?"
Ann looked deep into my eyes before she went on. "I have a photo-shoot to do, a big one, and I want you to be the model, the main model."
That took me by surprise. I had been thinking about another brunch, a party, or helping her out at the gallery, something like that. But me, modeling? "But I'm not a model," I finally said.
"That is partly the point. Besides, the camera loves you almost as much as I do." Even if I hadn't felt myself blushing I'd known that I was flushing because of the grin that crept over Ann's face. "And the theme makes you perfect for it."
There was one thing that concerned me, though. Well, there were a lot of things about modeling at one of Ann's shoots, but this one particularly. "But I don't want pics of me all over the net."
She reached out and took my hand. "Do you think I'd allow that? The photo-shoot is for a private collector, not a magazine, and your face would not be visible, not in a way that could identify you ... the... , " another one of those pauses followed, "costume will ensure that."
Once again I was experiencing that mix of curiosity, pride and a bit anxiousness. I was just about to ask her whether I could think about it, but then I stopped, took a sip from my mug and made up my mind on the spot. There wasn't really anything to think about, was there? I loved Ann, I trusted her and if she thought I was the perfect person and that I was up to it then why shouldn't I do it? Yes, exactly, there was no reason why I shouldn't.
"I would be happy to model for you."
Ann
Tuesday morning, walking to the gallery, oblivious to everything save a pair of emerald eyes and the shape of those lips forming the words, "I would be happy to model for you." At least that is the words her lips formed, but all I could hear was her voice, rich with emotion, smooth as the feel of tongue on clit, that voice, her voice, her words, "I love you."
Hurricane Dee had hit the gallery by the time I arrived, her weekly cleaning blitz in full swing, her eyes resentful as my feet carelessly touched the newly cleaned floor. "Morning, scrubber."
"You're the all-powerful one, fucking levitate... !!" Her voice the guttural rasp of 'morning-after' throat, her eyes dancing with glee. "Nympho-pixie" is waiting for you, probably dripping on my clean floor..."
Dee's voice fading away as I hurried down the corridor. I know that Dee is very careful of who she allows into the studio when I'm not present, even when I am. I would not have expected Belle to be allowed access, but I trusted Dee, so there must be a reason.
Bella. To her parents, the Judge and the Socialite she is always Isabella, to Dee she is the nympho-pixie. To me she is Bella, the youngest model I've ever used, I still remember her first session, still hung-over from her eighteenth birthday party.
Isabella, the honours student, top of her class since kindergarten, demure, innocent, a 'nice' girl ... Then there is Bella, who has no shame, no inhibitions, who craves to be used, to cum, anytime, anyway.
The first time we met she wanted to be photographed, formal photo's in her gown, not something I choose to do, except she was insistent, persistent, and there was something about her that intrigued me. She arrived for her session dressed in nerd-chic, a pin-up for the moral majority. The Dungeon was mostly concealed that day, the only light focused on a stereotypical backdrop in readiness for her session. She had gone into the changing room to put on her gown, and had returned wearing the gown and mortarboard, her pale blonde elfin cut hair and high cheek bones made more pronounced by the long black flowing robe.
The actual session was the work of minutes, all that was required were simple shots, full length, three-quarter and 'head and shoulders'. I had no sooner told her, "Ok, we're done," than the mortarboard went sailing across the studio and her robe opened to fall from her shoulders to the floor, leaving her standing before me naked. Written diagonally across her smooth toned stomach, the word 'fucktoy'.
Dee, who had just entered the studio with a pile of papers needing my attention, took one look and, "I'll be back later ... much later ... when you've finished with the nympho-pixie." The studio door closed firmly behind her as if sealing Bella's fate.
I stood looking at her for long minutes, my eyes exploring her body, noting every firm toned inch. She never flinched, never tried to hide her body or hurry my inspection, she just stood before me, exposed, eager, poised as if to launch herself at whatever debauchery I might allow her.
Those long minutes passed as I committed her body to memory, then with conscious effort I broke my gaze, putting my camera down as I gathered my resolve. "Get dressed."
"But... ?"
"No."
"Please... ?"
"Dress now, not another word." I relented a little. "You may come back when you're eighteen."
The look in her eyes made me want to reach for my camera, then for my whip. She paused, took a deep breath and turned away to retrieve her clothes and get dressed.
I was out in the gallery duelling with Dee, parrying her thrusted invoices with my cheque book when Isabella appeared, dressed once more as little miss innocent, she looked at me, but said nothing, pausing at the counter she wrote something on Dee's open notepad, looked at her watch, wrote again, then turned and left, my eyes following her every movement.
Dee chuckled as she passed the note to me, the message clear. "5 months, 21 days, 1 hour and 20 minutes."
I was surprised to hear Dee shouting at a customer, more so at her choice of words, "GET OUT... !!!!!!!!" The inflexion of her voice expressing every single exclamation mark. I was still in the corridor, not close enough to see who Dee was shouting at and could not make out the response, the words too muffled, all I caught was the tone, hurt and surprise.
Entering the gallery I was just in time to hear Dee bawl, "come back in ten minutes." whilst theatrically tapping her wrist with two fingers, as if to emphasise her words by attracting attention to her wristwatch, except she wasn't wearing one.
"Who... ??"
Conjuring a piece of paper from the midden of her desk, Dee laid it on the counter-top, her fingers smoothing out the creases, fingers obscuring the contents as she spoke. "Now you can thank me for keeping this afternoon clear in your diary, O evil one, your victim eagerly awaits you."
"Victim... ?"
"The nympho-pixie, the eighteen years old yesterday, nympho-pixie."
"Oh fuck."
"Yes, I know, 'till she can't walk, talk or see straight, knowing you."
Eight minutes later Bella stood before me in the Dungeon, naked but but the scarlet lipstick 'fucktoy' written diagonally across her smooth toned stomach.
"So my little fucktoy, what exactly do you want... ??"
Bella looked me right in the eyes and replied. "Whatever you dare, use me, do it all, don't ever ask again, just use me, but only here, only when I can't control the hunger, and never anything that marks me permanently or identifies me conclusively. I'll sign whatever you want. Just please say yes. Please... ??"
Seldom will you meet anyone with a clearer picture of exactly what they want from life, and a clear understanding of exactly how to make it happen. Isabella had a focus that put even my best lenses to shame. An intelligent young girl who made herself the top student by sheer hard work, focus and determination, letting nothing distract her, dealing with every challenge to ensure she reaches her goal. Everything had been perfect until she hit seventeen and her hormones, long repressed, sought their release. At first fingers and a dildo seemed a solution, but served only to destroy her hymen and any illusion that she could control her hunger by masturbation. A chance comment and carefully discreet conversations with a few fellow students who modelled for me had brought her to my studio, her mind made up, her hunger sharp, 5 months, 21 days, 1 hour and 20 minutes had turned that hunger into a craving that took all afternoon, all evening and most of the night to cure. By the next morning I had an unbelievable photo-set, a model willing to do anything and a willing, if infrequent, vent for my own pent up desires.
Dee was wrong, she could walk, but then two out of three ain't bad...
The nympho-pixie ... it would be a long session. A very long session.
For the first time since that first marathon with Bella, I had only one thought in my mind, one image, emerald eyes looking into mine as her words echoed in my heart. "I love you."
I stopped right there in the corridor, the nympho-pixie could wait, I had something more important to do. Fingers stumbling over the unfamiliar words, I texted Zoe...
"Ich liäbe dich hüt meh als immer, du bringsch mis Herz zum schlah, mini Seel zum singe und mini Futz zum tropfe."
Zoe
A couple of years ago, between finishing college and going to University I spent a summer on the alp high above the village were I grew up. It was tough work, getting up with the sun and going to bed shortly after it had set and not many breaks in between. Milking the cows, schlepping milk, herding the cows to their pasture, clean out the stable, cleaning the dairy, making cheese, cleaning the dairy again, cooking, feeding the pigs, repair fences (once, after a lightning had hit the fence, there were four hundred meters of wire missing, just gone up in smoke, the fenceposts nearest to the impact either incinerated or reduced to toothpicks), herding cows and milking them again, ... it never ended. And the next day it began all anew, at quarter past five in the morning until nine or nine thirty in the evening when we crashed into bed, tired, exhausted even, completely oblivious to the stink of cow shit that clung to our clothes, our skin, our hair, because everything stank of cow shit.
I never made the mistake of figuring out how much per hour I earned during this three and a half months. All I know is that not even the cheese I got made up for the lousy pay.
And now I'd earn 3000 pounds for one day's work! That seemed exaggerated, even if it involved getting out of my clothes and presumably into all kinds of kinky situations. I must have made quite a funny face when Ann had told me about the money, for she had started to chuckle, then reached across the table and closed my mouth again.
Madison
- 13.07.2022
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