Be My Angel

What could be more incongruous and absurd than the idea of Bev ever watching porn films? That wasn't her at all, it was simply unthinkable. As unthinkable as Bev talking the way she was now.

"... alright then, enough teasing. Be the horny slut you are, give yourself what you want. Stick that thing right up your cunt while I watch ..."

Forcing inside; too big for comfort; too violent for pleasure ... Too much, just too much of everything. Shaking and sweating from the suddenness of the overwhelming assault, hearing her own moaning as if it was less a part of herself than Bev's cold contemptuous voice.

"... you cheap, dirty, filthy ..."

"Ohhhh fuck yes!"

Bev's hand locked on her wrist and dragged it roughly away, pulling the vibrator from inside her and leaving it juddering obscenely in her grip. Bev snapped her fingers and pointed at the foot of the bed.

"I've had enough of looking at your face. Over there."

Anna did as she was told, let herself be posed by Bev's curt gestures until she was kneeling with her back to Bev and her legs apart. When Bev told her to she switched the vibrator off and bent over until her face was in the sheet. When Bev told her to she pushed it back inside herself. She was entirely dehumanised: an ugly splay-legged cunt in Bev's face, stretched tight around seven inches of ribbed plastic in pretty girly pink that she thrust in and out on command. No personality at all, simply the cheapest and most degraded of pornographic displays for Bev's amusement. And the thrill of it all bringing her to the brink of the most intense orgasm she had known in her life, building deep inside and the shuddering tension of her thighs. So very close to complete ...

"Stop. All the way out ..."

Bev took it from her hand, teased it lightly between her lips and for one brief moment of irresistible terror pushed the end of it against her bottom. Then it was gone.

"... I'll put this somewhere safe. If you want to play with it again, you'll have to ask me nicely."

"Bev, please ..."

"What?"

"Really do need to come now."

"Lie back down. I still don't want to see your face."

Anna felt her hands pulled behind her back, and realised Bev was tying her wrists with the belt from her own dressing gown.

"Please."

"I want you to apologise for spoiling my night's sleep. Say sorry to me."

Bev pushed at the back of her knee to guide her thigh up towards her belly. Bev's skilful and practised hand stroked against her frustration.

"I apologise, Bev. I'm sorry I woke you up. I'm sorry I'm such a filthy slut ..."

The voice was quiet but still commanding in her ear.

"Don't stop speaking. If you stop, so will I."

"... I'm sorry. Please forgive me for being so dirty. Please don't punish me for touching my cunt. Please don't ... Oh God, Bev ... Please, love, please ..."

*****

Bev popped out at ten to get some orange juice and a cereal bar from the newsagent. As she paid, she fought off the urge to ask for an ounce of Golden Virginia and a pack of Rizlas as well. That was a bad sign -- not that she exactly needed any signs today -- she only ever found herself craving when she'd really screwed something up with Anna.

Just what on earth had happened in the middle of the night? She had no idea what had come over her. She had behaved disgustingly, and whatever she might be feeling now she had enjoyed it at the time. As apparently had Anna, but that was hardly the point. She couldn't help stealing a glance at the magazines on her way out. You won't find real porn in a campus newsagent, but there were enough gaping-cleavage lads' mags on display. Nasty, exploitative disrespectful stuff; the sort of grubby rubbish that that made sex seem just as dirty as her grandparents had found it. She didn't want any part of that, that wasn't what making love with Anna was all about. It wasn't what life with her was about.

She returned to her office and dug a cleaning cloth out of her desk drawer. Ever since she had given up, she had become an obsessive polisher of her glasses. Life and making love, that was a false distinction if ever there was one. 'Making love' wasn't something they did in bed, it was everything. Brushing hair and holding hands and carrying some of Anna's extraordinary amount of daily baggage -- all that just as much as the private caresses. What were the old words: 'with my body I thee worship'? That was how it was supposed to work. Respect, love, support; making her understand every moment how precious she is to you. Not 'with thy body I play sleazy power games'. Never that, not even if it did make Anna scream her release into the pillow and hold her so tight afterwards.

A new email caught her attention. From Anna: Lunch at 12.30 suit you? They had both overslept. The stumbling shamefaced post-mortem last night deserved had been replaced by a desperate scramble to get them both washed, dressed and in the car at twenty to nine. But it had to be faced, and sooner would be better than later Anything suited her: anything at all she could do to try making up for being such a sick depraved bitch.

Lunchtime came; Bev queued and paid and took their tray over to the corner double table Anna had managed to find. Thank God for that, this really wasn't a day for sharing with some stranger.

"Thanks love."

"Not a problem. Anna ..."

"Yes love."

That was Anna, unless she was depressed or angry she would just call Bev 'love' without thinking. Normally Bev found it reassuring, she never thought it was a meaningless automatic gesture. But not today; today it just made her feel guiltier.

"... about our elephant."

"Last night?"

"Err ... Yeah ..."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Really needed it. Thanks so much."

"But I ..."

Anna lowered her voice and grinned.

"Gave me a bit of a hard time? Didn't you just. Going to do it again when we get home?"

"What?! No! Bloody hell, no. I feel like shit about it."

Everything was turning inside-out for Bev. She had behaved appallingly, and Anna looked happier than she had for months; she tried to apologise, and Anna looked suddenly insulted. They lapsed into silent eating for a few minutes. When Anna spoke again she kept her eyes on her plate.

"Why do you get the food?"

"You know what it's like getting a table in this place. If we both queued we'd never find a seat."

"Why is it always you."

"It just is. You hate queuing."

"So do you."

"I can manage."

"Who usually pays?"

"I suppose I do. It's just a habit. Why are we talking about this?"

"Why is it always you, Bev?"

She didn't want to say it. It sounded condescending: 'there, there, little woman'. She never meant it that way. She mumbled the answer at her food.

"Like looking after you."

"I like you doing it."

"I'm really sorry about last night."

"Talk about it later, yeah? When we get home?"

"Alright."

"Bev, I really didn't mind at all. I'd like to do it again."

They went home that night, and talked some more without reaching any conclusion. Bev went upstairs and ran a hot bath, and as she was waiting she busied herself tidying the bedroom. For some reason the shopping bags from Saturday had ended up upstairs. She sorted them out and took a few things down to the living room.

Then it was time for Anna to bring a bottle and two glasses upstairs; for lights and music both soft and low and Bev taking her time washing Anna's back and arms before climbing in behind to kiss her shoulders and share time and wine until the water cooled and they went to bed instead. For kissing and holding in the luxury of clean skin on clean sheets; mouth to mouth and breast to breast. For all the things that in Bev's heart were the suitable and proper way to express how she felt for Anna. And then to the perfect incomparable joy of thighs tense on her shoulders, and back arching to her, and her lover's hips pushing orgasmically back against her mouth. Back, after that moment of madness, to who they were.

*****

Anna had taken the bus, and by the time Bev came indoors after her late meeting there was already a smell of cooking in the house. Bev dropped her keys beside the statuette on the telephone table in the living room and walked through to the kitchen.

"Good day at the office dear?"

Bev shrugged at the old joke. It had, in fact, been more than usually irritating, but that just made it even better to come home to this.

"Not great, got a ridiculous meeting tomorrow. How was yours?"

Anna didn't say anything. There seemed to be a little more violence than usual in the way she tipped water out of the potato saucepan.

"Fancy a cuppa, or are you in the mood for a 'drink' drink?"

"Seriously, everything OK?"

"Had a bit of a fight. My fault really, I'm just pissy and hormonal at the moment, you know that."

"Do anything to help?"

"Yes: get out of my way and let me look after you once in a while. Please."

"Tea'd be great. Thanks."

Bev knew Anna far too well to argue or fuss, or even give her that quick kiss on the back of her neck that was so hard to resist. So she wandered back into the living room and idly picked through the post instead. Anna bought in two mugs, and sat for a few minutes to share the tea before she had to go back to the kitchen. They chatted easily: the small, inconsequential everyday things of deep friendship. Bev found herself looking more than casually at Anna as they talked. Anna checked her watch and went back to the kitchen. Bev watched the sway of her hips as she passed.

Anna was sexy, always had been. Bev found her beautiful, and honestly had no interest in whether anyone else agreed with that opinion or not. They loved each other, and found each other attractive: they were both sexual people, and they expressed themselves together sexually. But were they particularly sexual people? It suddenly occurred to Bev that she had never exactly asked herself that question before. She was who she was, and they both had a great deal of healthy and mutual fun in the bedroom, not to mention the bathroom. Was she a prude? Did she have some sort of hang-up about sex? She had never thought so, but the last ten days had completely rattled her.

Of course there were enough people who would regard her as a raging deviant simply for sharing her bed with Anna instead of Andy. But once that piece of medieval stupidity was out of the way, just how 'adventurous' was she? Well there was that vibrator, of course, but those were pretty tame and universal these days, weren't they? The strap-on had been Anna's idea: too much to drink and too giggly over the laptop one weekend, and before they knew it they had ordered the damn thing. Bev had tried, but the idea disturbed her. Not for the sex, as such, not because it was nasty and kinky or anything like that. Bev might not have any great attachment to the idea of herself 'as a lesbian', but she was very happy indeed to be a woman. And just as happy that Anna was one; that was quite enough for her, they were more than capable of making love together using the resources that nature provided them. Anyone who thought two women needed a substitute penis to keep themselves amused really needed to open their eyes a little to reality.

So there it was. Did that make her unadventurous? She really could get rather excited about Anna in some of those thin lacy ... And just who had decided that making love had to be an adventure, anyway? It was making love, that was enough for its own sake. That was everything.

She took a sip of cold tea and realised how long she must have been sitting there pondering on sex. What on earth had gotten into her recently? Work, for both of them, was increasingly crappy, prices of everything were going through the roof, the whole world was going to hell in a hand basket -- and all she could do was mope around the place trying not to have the most unsuitably disrespectful sex fantasies about someone she thought the world of. When exactly had thoughts of 'you're so beautiful to me' started turning into 'I want to put you on your knees and fuck you hard'?

"Everything OK?"

"Err ... Yeah, fine."

"Be about twenty minutes."

Anna stroked her face. It was like an electric shock; as if the softly trailing fingertips were circling her nipple, teasing between her legs. She looked at the pretty, sweet, face and her imagination saw the way it had looked with eyes closed and head thrown back panting the Sunday before last. She felt the same compulsion sloshing in her stomach and closing her throat.

"Take off your belt."

"Bev?"

She reached out and hooked her fingers inside the waist of Anna's trousers to pull her closer. Without another word she undid Anna's belt herself and pulled it free of the loops.

"Kneel down."

She draped the belt around Anna's neck and pulled until she felt the first, tiniest hint of resistance. There was no way to buckle it in place so far past the last hole, so she simply left it there with the free end hanging between Anna's breasts and pointing so obviously towards her sex. Anna was looking down, looking away from her. She could see the slight tremor in Anna's parted lips, the flutter in her fine soft eyelashes. If Anna had said anything, she would have stopped, but Anna didn't. Bev made a slight raising motion with her hand and Anna stood back up. Complete control, obedience to the subtlest gesture. Intoxicating.

"Pull down your trousers."

Anna's hands fumbling at the zip, easing them off her hips and pushing down her legs to bunch at her ankles. Anna straightening up again to stand vulnerable with her eyes down and her hands hanging at her sides. Pale smooth thighs looking helpless in front of Bev; eminently sensible knickers teasingly glimpsed through the hanging tails of her blouse.

Bev nodded towards the door: you can go back to cooking for me now.

*****

Anna's trousers caught round her ankles, making her take short little steps as if she was hobbled. Insulting, degrading: she was mincing around like some bloody geisha fantasy. It wasn't even sexy: trousers all the way off and legs spread would be sexy, this was just ...

Just something way, way beyond sexy. This was ridiculous and ugly; this was like the last time -- grunting like an animal under Bev's impassive stare while she felt that her hips would shake loose before she came. Oh God, why had her mind had to pick 'as if hobbled' from all the possible similes? Because now she couldn't get the image of Bev fixing shackles to her ankles out of her head.

She began to turn towards the sound of footsteps, but Bev's hand to her shoulder stopped her. Bev pushed her against the sink and pulled the back of her knickers down to the top of her thighs. Bev's left hand lifted her blouse clear, and she felt the right cupping and stroking over her backside. One sudden, stinging slap without warning and the blouse dropped back.

"Wear something sexier next time. Understood?"

"Yes ..."

She could barely hear her own voice. She didn't know how to end it: 'love' hardly fitted the game they were apparently playing, and neither did 'Bev'. What was she going to call her? Not that it mattered at this minute, because Bev had walked back into the living room.

She looked out of the window, at their garden still in daylight. She could, but wouldn't, put her clothes back in order. She could pull the blinds, but Bev wouldn't have done what she had if she wanted Anna to feel comfortable. There was, she realised, nothing outrageously apparent, even if someone did choose to peek over the fence. The front of her undies was still, barely, between her and indecent exposure. Her bum was all on show, but safely below the level of the windows. There was a leather belt round her throat like a dog collar and lead, but from any distance it could be taken for a tie, even an apron strap to a casual glance. It was, in fact, all completely safe. Of course it felt nothing of the kind. It felt entirely exposed and on show to one and all; like that appalling nightmare of standing up to give a lecture to three hundred second-year undergrads and suddenly realising she was entirely naked. The alarm chimed, she really needed to do something about the sauce.

Bev came in and sat at the table when Anna called. Anna didn't know what to do after she set down the plates. She didn't even know what she wanted. Cooking and eating with Bev was such a pleasure, it always had been from the very beginning. She wanted to just sit and share the meal together; she wanted to forget the meal and have Bev drag her upstairs to selfishly ride her tongue on the bedroom floor; she wanted to be bent over the table here and now, to be fucked until she screamed and somehow end up with food smeared over her face and breasts. She wanted all of them together.

"Well?"

"Sorry Bev."

"For what?"

"I'm not sure. I'm just ..."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry I'm not wearing something sexier for you."

Bev took the end of the belt and pulled Anna down across her lap. Head down in her own kitchen, with the leather pressing round her throat and her backside entirely exposed as Bev's open hand slapped down again and again. Over Bev's knee for six stinging spanks as she fought the urge to spread her legs under the blows, desperate for Bev's fingers forcing inside her at the end.

Bev did nothing of the sort. She simply guided Anna back upright and started to eat her meal. Anna perched her smarting bare backside on the edge of the chair and hoped that her frustrated shameless arousal wasn't going to leave any stains behind to complete her humiliation. From time to time Bev would take a piece of food, from her plate or Anna's, and offer the fork up to Anna's mouth. Anna didn't want to eat anything else; she didn't want to sit at the table. She wanted to kneel at Bev's side and be fed treats from Bev's hand. She wanted to be Bev's pet.

When she had finished eating, Bev picked up her drink and went back towards the living room.

"Take your trousers and knickers right off, see to the washing-up, then come through so I can use you."

How strange that a tiny thing like that should be almost too much. It was never something as formal as a rule, it was simply the way things had always been: one cooked, the other washed up. It was how the house worked. For a minute she felt genuinely insulted, if Bev thought a little kinky sex turned her into a skivvy ... But she knew it wasn't meant that way. They needed a break between the acts; they needed a moment to let the food settle; Bev really couldn't do the washing-up just now, that would be silly. So Anna washed the plates, and put the pans in to soak, and felt at once entirely humiliated and quite safe in Bev's control. This really was every bit as blissful as she had always imagined. She found herself wishing that reality came with a 'pause' button, so she could pop into the living room and thank Bev without spoiling the mood; but of course that would be impossible.

When she did go through later, she found Bev laying naked on the rug, waiting comfortably with cushions under her head.

"Come and kneel over here, face my feet."

Anna straddled Bev's face. She was shocked by the simple brilliance of it. She was still partially clothed; she was on top; she was in a position to do any number of things, all dominant and some quite outrageous -- and none of that mattered in the slightest. She was Bev's toy to pose and manipulate once again, she was entirely subordinate. Bev's hands reached up to the all too apparent wetness of her lips, opened her entirely to Bev's intimate and thorough examination. Bev's fingers spread her cunt under Bev's gaze; Bev's hands parted her buttocks for Bev's inspection. She had never known anything so utterly degrading in her life. Bev's hand reached up inside her loose blouse and toyed casually with her tits. Bev -- who could swear ferociously in anger but never talked coarse and nasty in bed -- turned that flat new voice on her.