Sara's Story Ch. 04

"No, Charlotte, I do like you. I like you very much, but I'm trying to protect you from Michael."

Charlotte shook her head. "No! You and Michael are in this together!" she shouted through her sobs.

Sara ran her fingers through her hair. Her face went deep red. "That is not true, Charlotte," she said with a quivering chin, "I'd never do anything to hurt you."

"You just did," Charlotte replied and buried her face in the cushions.

Sara reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but thought the better of it. She stood, her body shaking with anger. "Michael," she said, "this is enough." She walked to the nearest camera and looked directly into it. "Let her go, Michael. Take me. I'll do anything you want. Anything. Just let Charlotte go and I'm yours. No questions asked."

Charlotte lifted her head from the divan and looked at Sara in disbelief.

"You're already mine," came the reply, "and so is Charlotte."

Sara bit her lip to force back a curse. "Maybe so, but not willingly. I'll be your slave, Michael. Think about it."

"Oh god, Sara, please don't do this," Charlotte begged. "I'll do what he wants, but don't give yourself up like this."

Sara didn't look at her for fear of losing her resolve.

It didn't take long for Michael to respond. "Meet me in the living room. We'll talk about it."

Sara headed for the closet, but Charlotte caught her before she was halfway there. "Sara, don't! How can I live with myself if he lets me go but keeps you?"

Sara stopped and smiled at her. "I'll be fine, Charlotte. I can handle Michael. What I can handle is the guilt of seducing you for his enjoyment."

"Don't do it for his enjoyment, do it for yours." Charlotte grabbed Sara's hands and squeezed them.

Sara kissed her on the forehead. "No Charlotte. I can't. At a different time, in a different place, I'd love to be with you, but not here, not now." She left Charlotte standing there in the middle of the room while she changed into a leather corset and bottom, and headed to the living room

In the living room, Sara paced the floor between the kitchenette and the TV. Now that she was committed, she was filled with doubt. Not that she'd change her mind even if Michael gave her the chance. If she could convince Michael to let Charlotte go, she'd do anything for him. She knew it wasn't a rational plan. She hardly knew Charlotte. Yet she felt something for her that was much more than lust. Maybe not quite love, but something close. Charlotte was a rarity in the world. Moral and chaste, yet open-minded and warm. She had a huge heart- and Sara did not want to see her corrupted by Michael's perverted fantasies. She had seen and done most everything. Michael wasn't a complete sicko, he just wanted to see two girls go at it. Fine, she could do that, just not with Charlotte. Get her some other girl, someone who wasn't a church-going virgin, and she'd do anything Michael wanted. She could live with herself after that. But this? Never.

Sara paused. She looked at the clock; it had been ten minutes. Michael never took this long. Oh god, she thought, Charlotte! She went for the door, but it was locked. She beat on it, cried out for Charlotte, but there was no answer. She tried the other doors, knowing they were locked as well, but desperate to get to Charlotte just the same. She felt hot tears streaming down her face.

Michael's voice boomed over the speakers. "Sara, no need to get all worked up," he said.

"What did you do to her, you bastard!" she screamed.

"Why don't you come and see," said Michael, "we're three doors down on the left."

Sara stormed down the hallway and burst through the door. She knew this room, knew the pictures on the wall, the leather couch, and the chains in the center. She had been here three nights before. Michael sat on the couch. Charlotte stood in the center of the room, her back to Sara. Her ankles were cuffed, and even though she couldn't see it, she knew that her wrists were cuffed as well. Charlotte's head was down, and she was shaking with fear.

"Let her go you son of a bitch," Sara demanded. Not waiting, she went to the girl's side. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her face pale with fear. Her hands went to the cuffs even though she knew she had no way to open them.

Michael smiled. "Not without a key, I'm afraid, and not until she's been punished. Interesting choice of outfit, by the way. Almost prescient."

Sara stood between Charlotte and Michael. "You're not touching her, Michael. Not until you go through me first."

Michael's smile widened. "You're right. I'm not touching her," he said, and then a pause. "You are."

Sara's jaw dropped. "No. No way. There's no way I'm going to whip her. You're out of your freaking mind."

"That's your punishment, Sara. Unless you'd rather watch me whip her instead. You'll go first, so she knows what she's in for, then her, and you will watch. We know which of us will hurt more. The choice is yours."

"Why are you doing this to us? What the hell did we do that was so bad?" Sara asked, exasperated.

"You've grown too comfortable, both of you. It's time to remind you who is in charge here. There are no deals, Sara. You will do as I say. If you don't...well, this is only the beginning."

"Sara," Charlotte whispered, "I don't want him to touch me. Please, just get it over with."

Sara considered Charlotte. So afraid, yet resolute just the same. Her gaze turned to Michael; there was no changing his mind. That lesson she'd already learned. Sara nodded, defeated. "You're such a bastard," she said to Michael. She walked over and started ratcheting the lever. Charlotte whimpered as her hands were lifted up, over her head, followed by her body. When her toes just touched the floor, Sara stopped. She took the riding crop off the table and walked over to Charlotte. She kissed her, long and hard, and was shocked at the passion with which the kiss was returned.

"Please forgive me for what I'm about to do," Sara said under her breath.

Charlotte hung her head and nodded, but then, her voice hardly a whisper, added, "I love you."

Sara paused, not quite sure what she had heard, but Charlotte only stared at the floor.

Sara moved behind her. Her hand moved along Charlotte's side before taking a firm hold of her hip. She raised the crop over her head and brought it down on Charlotte's ass with a loud crack. Charlotte jerked forward, her head snapped up and Sara heard her take in a sharp breath. Again Sara raised the crop and brought it down, and again, and again. She tried to spread her blows around so as not to strike the same spot twice, but the swathes of pale flesh were quickly filled in by burning red stripes. She wondered if this was how she looked, when Michael was whipping her, meekly accepting the pain that was being meted out to her. Sara then discovered, beneath her anger, just behind the pity she felt for Charlotte, an emotion of an altogether unexpected sort. Sara felt a tingling between her legs. She at the realization that, as she watched Charlotte's voluptuous frame writhe and squirm underneath the blows of the crop, she was aroused. The heat she felt on the couch returned in full.

Sara's face burned bright red with shame.

"Harder," ordered Michael, "harder, Sara, or I'll do it for you."

Sara paused long enough to glare at Michael, then turned back to Charlotte. Her backside was now bright red, and there wasn't a spot she could strike that wasn't already stinging. Sara started again, harder. For the first time, Charlotte cried out, welts already rising along the tender curve of her ass. Sara tried stopped, but a stern look from Michael forced her on.

Charlotte now began to cry out with every strike. "Please, Sara, stop!" she begged, but one look from Michael told Sara she could not. Charlotte squirmed, twisting around, desperate to avoid the stinging blows. Sara held her in place and continued whipping her; cursing Michael for making her do this, cursing herself for enjoying it. Finally, after what seemed hours to Sara, Charlotte's feet gave out and she slumped down on the chains.

"Enough," said Michael with a wave of his hands. He stood. "You're a natural," he said to Sara.

"Fuck you," she replied, "give me the damn key."

Michael smirked and tossed it on the table on his way out.

Sara hurried to the wench and eased Charlotte to the ground. She ran back and removed the cuffs that bound Charlotte's wrists and ankles. The girl curled into a ball on the floor and sobbed. Sara sat next to her, running her fingers through those long black curls. Charlotte's backside was criss-crossed with red, angry welts, a sharp contrast against her pale skin. Sara tried not to look at them, at what she had done.

"C'mon, baby," Sara after awhile, "let's get you to the couch." She lifted the girl to her feet, but Charlotte wrapped her arms around her neck and squeezed.

"Why is he so mean?" Charlotte asked as Sara led her to the couch. "I would have done what he said, I just needed some time. He didn't have to make you do that." Charlotte absently sat down on the couch, but shot right back up as soon as her backside touched leather. "Ah! Bad idea."

"Lie on your stomach," Sara suggested, and Charlotte did as she was told. "Let's see," she continued, digging through the drawer under the end table, "after he whipped me the rubbed this stuff on the marks. It helped a lot." Sara presented a bottle of lotion.

Charlotte nodded. "Anything," she said. "My butt's on fire."

Sara knelt beside the couch, squeezed some lotion into her hand and started to gently massage it into the long red welts on Charlotte's backside. At first, Charlotte tensed, but after a few minutes she relaxed with an audible sigh. Again Sara found herself wondering if this is how Michael felt when did the same to her. It was obvious, now, that he was taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Is that what she was doing now? Sara couldn't answer that question, but she could not deny how much she was enjoying herself. Charlotte's body felt amazing under her fingers. Sara followed the lotion with a string of soft kisses along each welt, until she had covered each and every one with them. Maybe it didn't actually help. It made her feel better, and Charlotte did not complain one bit.

Sara lifted her head and smiled up at Charlotte, who had craned her neck to watch. Charlotte shifted, and then rolled over on her back. She brought up one knee and laid it against the couch and turned the other outward, opening warm thighs for Sara to kiss.

Sara took one long look at Charlotte's open legs, at the glistening entrance of her sex, before her gaze faltered and she looked up to see Charlotte own gaze upon her, wanton and hungry. "He's watching," Sara cautioned.

"So?" Charlotte replied. "He's always watching. Don't make me beg, Sara."

The thought of Charlotte begging her for it was more than a little tempting for Sara, but no more so than the reality of what lay before her. She tried not to rush as her mouth returned to Charlotte's pale skin, but she just couldn't help herself. She'd had enough of thighs and backsides, she wanted her.

Charlotte's hands moved again to grasp handfuls of Sara's blond mop and guide her to that place. She arched her hips and wrapped her legs around Sara's body as her tongue began to lap between the folds of Charlotte's labia. Charlotte moaned, already close to orgasm. Sara's hands were all over her. Up they would run along her sides before moving across her breasts to tease her hard nipples. Back down they would go, sending ripples of electricity across her stomach and down her thighs.

Sara was now furiously stroking her engorged clitoris with her tongue. Charlotte's hips slowly began to rock, back and forth. The rocking intensified. Her hips began to grind against Sara's face as her hands pressed down against the back of her head. Sara cupped Charlotte's ass with her hands and squeezed, trying to hold on and steady the desperate gyrations of her partner. Suddenly Charlotte lifted off the couch, so that only her feet and shoulders touched, and pressed Sara's face further into her wet mound. She drew in a sharp, deep breath, and every muscle in her body went taut.

Sara's lips and cheeks were smeared with the consequence of Charlotte's passion. Yet she loved the smell of her, the taste. She was enraptured by the intensity of the other woman's desire for her. At the crest of Charlotte's orgasm it was Sara's name that she cried out, over and over. Slowly Charlotte sunk back down into the couch, still grasping handfuls of Sara's hair, still pressing her face against that hot, wet place. "Oh god, Sara," she said, her voice a whisper, "I've never...never...do it again."

Sara did as she was asked. Over and over taking Charlotte to that place she had never been. She worked her mouth until her jaw ached and her tongue threatened to stop working at all, yet still she continued. When Charlotte's clitoris became so sensitive Sara could no longer touch it, she began to tease it with slight flicks of the tongue, each one sending a spasm of pleasure coursing through Charlotte's body. She then slipped a finger, only one, into that most intimate of places. Sara was surprised at the tightness of it, how perfectly it conformed to the shape and caress of her finger. Sara found that place deep inside, and began to run circle around it with the tip of her finger. Sara watched from between Charlotte's legs as the girl came again, her hips moving like a piston against Sara's finger. Charlotte's head collapsed against the couch, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Sara withdrew the hand and sucked the hot nectar from her finger.

Exhausted, both women were content to lay on the couch; Charlotte sprawled across its length, her legs still wrapped around her partner, and Sara, her head resting on the soft expanse of Charlotte's stomach. Long minutes passed before either said a word, but Charlotte's hand searched out Sara's, and held it tight. Finally, longing for the comfort of her bed, Sara roused Charlotte from her half-slumber and guided the spent woman to the warm embrace of the blankets.