The Vortex Ch. 01-04

Warning: This story contains graphic scenes depicting lesbian sex and humiliation.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.

This is Boxwood's and Mistress SWP's shared fantasy.

This story is a prequel to Jennifer's Road to Submission. Laney appears in that story and is described in that story as an All-American girl, blond, attractive, tall and lean whose innocent appearance conceals a very dark side. This story begins with Laney's second year of college at UCLA.

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Prologue

"Should I go with her?" I thought. It went against everything I'd been taught, yet here I was, seriously considering it.

It was late. I'd been drinking, but not enough to completely cloud my judgment. My friends had long ago called it a night and left me here with Claire. The bartender was already washing glasses and preparing for the next day. The band had left an hour ago. There was another couple making out in the corner of the bar, a man passed out on the bar, and us, settled into a large booth in the back.

Claire was unabashedly studying me as if I were a painting or a sculpture. Her eyes raked me over and I could read her calculating assessment - - fine wavy blond shoulder length hair, a surfer girl face, thin neck, pert breasts, flat tummy, long lean legs. The perennial All-American girl. She didn't have to lick her lips to reveal her thoughts - - her body language said it all.

She had spent the evening telling me and my roommates that we were ruled by our desires, not our fears.

Her message resonated deeply within me. I didn't want to leave her side nor could I stop myself from saying "yes" to her invitation. I sensed I was about to be sucked into a vortex created by my own dark thoughts and desires.

Chapter One

I'd just finished my last final in organic chemistry and was celebrating with my roommates. We chose our usual watering hole, a bar about two blocks from our apartment on the main drag, mostly college students like us, dispensing cheap beer and shots. The four of us staked out a booth in the back of the bar and then spent most of the evening fending off college aged men, and an occasional married man, while we plotted our futures.

While doing shots of tequila we somehow got diverted into a post-mortem on our organic chemistry final. We were debating whether the Woodward-Hoffman rules dealt in part with pericyclic reactions. I was certain they did while the others doubted whether I was right. The discussion was apparently quite spirited as midway through the argument a woman in the next booth came over to ours and said, "I couldn't help but overhear your discussion. Of course Woodward-Hoffman explains pericyclic reactions. I used to be a TA in organic."

I invited my ally to join our table to help us finish the discussion of our final. I went around the table, first introducing myself and then my roommates. The woman introduced herself as Claire. Claire was an attractive woman, though much older than our crowd, probably in her early 40's. She had chestnut brown hair, blue eyes, and a curvy figure and shapely toned legs that were shown to their best advantage by a low cut scooped neck turquoise blue dress that was cut a few inches above the knee. Her intelligence and energy revived our spirited conversation.

"Chem was interesting, but I changed my major to Behavioral Studies when I found out that was the sexy side of the sciences." Claire had our attention now. Being slightly nerdy we didn't often hear the words "sexy" and "science" in the same sentence. "Don't you ever wonder why people do what they do? Or how to get them to decide on their own to want to do something else? Whether it's product marketing or sex, Skinner was right. People think of Pavlov conditioning the dogs, but with operant conditioning Skinner found ways to encourage or discourage behavior in lots of ways through reward and punishment."

"At different times, everyone either wants to lead the action or to feel the benefits of giving up control. Whether it's love or sex or breakfast cereal, everyone can be played if you find the right keys. Marketing consultant or dominitrix, sometimes there isn't much difference; it's not fear that drives things, it's desire."

Even though I was out of my league I decided to engage. "I'm not sure you're right. Fear does motivate me. Look at how hard I studied for my finals. True fear of failure."

Claire wasn't convinced. "But you've been taught all your life that success in college will lead to success in life. You see the benefits of college. That's what truly motivates you."

She let that message sink in, then added, "And don't forget those same principles apply to sex as well."

I sensed that there was a lot going on behind the scenes with Claire's personality but the boisterous alcohol fueled atmosphere made getting a read on her difficult. The friends she was with seemed to have filtered away and she was comfortable parking with us for the duration of our stay. I wasn't sure if she was interested in us for amusement purposes only or whether she was looking for a hook-up or even a relationship.

The more philosophical note of the conversation seemed to have bored my already drunk and tired roommates. My friends dropped off one by one and before long it was just Claire and me.

I surveyed the bar and then looked at her. "Claire, it looks like we are going to close this bar."

Claire's gaze never left me. "I think the only question is whether we're going home alone or together."

I'd only had a few grope sessions in high school and college with women, but nothing approaching a pick-up at a bar or a relationship. Her statement was made with a degree of confidence that befitted her composure. I had never considered a hook-up or relationship with an older woman, yet here was an opportunity to go home with a beautiful woman who promised me a world that she had already experienced and now wanted to share it with me.

It of course went against everything I had been taught as a child, that a relationship was to be between a man and a woman and to do otherwise was a sin. I had always lived my life against the grain so Claire's offer was as attractive as she was.

I decided to show her that I was smart and witty. "I'm interested in going with you, but I want to be treated like the Princess that I am."

She was quick with her response. "Well, your Highness, you may be a Princess but I'm the Queen. And I'll treat you or mistreat you as I see fit."

Claire's challenge only increased my resolve to see over the wall.

"Lead me to your chariot my Queen." I bowed and waved my arm with a flourish.

Claire led me to the gravel parking lot. Her car was lonely all by itself under the orange/yellow glow of the outdoor lighting. It was a large black Audi sedan and it looked expensive. The car barked as she unlocked the doors with her clicker and I got into the passenger seat. Being a student I was used to moving debris off of my dirty cloth seat, but Claire's car was immaculate. I was afraid to put my shoes on the mats that still had the vacuum lines on them and to sit on its plush leather interior.

The car purred as we headed north of the bar to a residential area of Brentwood populated mostly by the college's faculty. By the time we arrived at Claire's home I realized that I had been talking a lot, maybe too much. Somehow with just a few questions she made me happy to spin out my history and everything from the totally unreasonable grad assistant that taught my Organic Chem 216 class to my crazy, amusing roommates, my former boyfriend, and my awkward high school career in Santa Monica. I must have presented myself as a typical ditzy California blond. She had never explained herself but I knew she was older, single, and seemed to have a flexible work schedule as a marketing consultant.

Her car indicated that she had money and her large Tudor style brick house at the end of a street in the faculty part of town confirmed that perception. It had dark brick, wood trim and small-paned windows, with a heavy oak door.

We were still chatting as we walked to the door, and I was curious about her now. Claire turned to me and smiled as she unlocked the door. "Come in; this will sound funny but I lived in China for a few years, and I got used to the practices there. When you go in, leave your shoes on the mat inside. In China it's very rude to wear street shoes indoors."

She swung the door open and stepped in, slipping off her heels and putting on her sandals waiting on the mat. I took off my flats and stepped barefoot onto the stone floor in the hall. Claire turned to me, standing very close, and ran her slender fingers through my hair. It was the first time she touched me and it put a charge through my body. "I'll get us some wine and we can talk some more, why don't you have a seat on the carpet - - it's a silk rug I picked up in China."

She went off down the hall, and I went through the archway into her living room. It was lined with bookshelves and art, with tall windows facing a garden that featured dramatic uplighting on the Japanese maples in that garden. The rug was a beauty, a classic oriental style, but there were only a few low tables and one tall-backed leather chair which looked like a fragile antique. I sat on the thick carpet next to a table, with my legs folded under me, feeling the soft carpet on my bare legs under my short casual skirt.

When Claire returned she had a silver tray with a bottle of chilled Chardonnay and glasses which she put on the table. She pulled the chair over to sit next to me, and she was again touching my hair, this time twirling my hair in her fingers as she poured the wine. Her touch felt relaxing and I leaned back against her leg and took my glass. It was chilly in the room, and I realized I had left my sweater in her car, and that Claire had a view down my thin cotton shirt. My small breasts had always seemed like one of my best features, and now I felt good about her seeing them as I felt my nipples tighten from the cool air. Her hand stroking my hair and the sumptuous wine made me feel completely at peace.

Claire was still stroking my hair as she leaned forward to kiss my forehead. I felt the wine wetting her lips. Her hand skid down my throat and over my shirt, cupping my breast, and my back arched to offer it to her. When her hand slipped in, under my shirt and bra, it felt warm and relaxing. "I think you need to be more comfortable, this rug is so soft, you probably want to take these binding things off now. She leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Laney, you are so beautiful."

I did want to free myself of my clothes as my shirt and bra seemed twisted and constraining. Claire's lips were on my forehead as I shrugged out of my shirt and bra and leaned against her leg. It felt natural to respond to her touch.

Claire's hand was warm on my forehead as she leaned forward from her chair and her other hand slid down the side of my bare arm. She didn't touch anything else, which made me more conscious of what I was doing - - sipping my wine, sitting topless on her luxurious silk rug. This was somehow sexier than if we were embracing and groping. I felt somehow proud to be on display for her, with my nipples pointing and tightening, and at the same time pleased to be close to her and feeling her leg against me. That made me think about the hem of her skirt, now riding up well above her knee and exposing her shapely thigh, and to imagine the warm shadows under her skirt and suddenly I really wanted her.

"You're beautiful, Princess, you make your Queen happy." Claire was smiling and joking but it felt true, too. She took a sip of her wine, then stood up. "Come over here, this is where you belong."

Claire took a step or two and moved the tray with the wine off the low table close to me. I rose to my knees and edged close to it, then she took my hand and helped me up. It was more like a low platform, not really high enough to be a cocktail table, and I realized the inset leather top of it was padded slightly. Claire was stroking my hair again, and trailing her fingers down my back, which made me lift my head.

I wanted to please her, but this was something totally new - - on my hands and knees on display, my bare breasts hanging below me and wearing only my short skirt. "Very nice, Princess, I knew you would be perfect for this, this really suits you." Claire lifted my chin a bit, then reached under me to cup and hold my breast, I could feel my nipple swell against her palm. Then I felt her other hand under my skirt, pulling the panties down to my knees, then cupping my wet sex. I was breathing harder as she stroked the wet slit, then slid two fingers into me.

"Oh, oh, yes...please.." My body was responding to her touch, aching for more. The slow pace of her seduction was tantalizing and delicious. Her loving touches and patience were the opposite of the behaviors I had experienced in frantic one night stands with men. I was drifting off into a dreamy state with the alcohol and fatigue weighing upon me. But in a dark corner of my mind I remembered her conversations about Skinner. Was she using my need as a weapon against me for her pleasure or was she truly infatuated with me? My need for more dispelled any further suspicions on my part as I surrendered to her tender manipulations.

She continued to slowly move her fingers in my pussy, probing for my g-spot. I let out an audible sigh when she found it. She started rubbing that area in earnest.

"Laney, is this what you want?"

"Yes, more than anything."

She continued to flick her fingers on my most sensitive spot.

"Ahhhhhh." As I was about to feel my orgasm crest across me she pulled her fingers out.

"Ohhh, no. Please don't stop."

Claire made sure she was looking me in my eyes, now pleading for my release. "Patience my Princess, The Queen needs to be worshipped by her subject."

She leaned back into the tall leather chair with her legs spread as wide as her skirt would allow. I was still on my knees and was now seeing her in a lewd display of her sexual power over me. I couldn't have resisted her allure even if I wanted to. I didn't want to resist. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, probing for a glimpse of what lay in the shadows between her legs.

"Come and help me unbutton my dress, my pet." I got off the platform and slid my skirt and panties off, then crawled over between her legs. My hands trembling, I fumbled with the buttons on her dress until the turquoise silk fell completely open and could now see her lacy white demi-cup bra and the tops of her perfectly formed breasts. I was having a hard time controlling my breathing.

"Take your time my pet. We have all night. Now reach behind me and unfasten my bra." She leaned forward with her face close to mine, and my arms went around her to unhook her lace bra and let it fall forward. Claire's breasts were spectacular to me, beautifully shaped and larger than mine, more womanly and full. She arched her back to offer them and I realized I did want to worship them. My fingers gently stroked the soft under curves, the top slope, and traced circles around her full nipples. I closed my eyes to soak in the sensation of her soft skin and to smell the subtle fragrance of her perfume. As she began to respond with soft moans I buried my face in her cleavage and hungrily licked and sucked her, feeding my now overwhelming desire to please her.

She held the back of my head as I nursed on her and her fingers circled the back of my neck. "You need a collar as my pet. I want you to be mine."

And that was what I wanted most, then, to be hers, to be possessed and to worship her. She extended her leg under me, and her dress rose higher. "Show me how much you need this, Laney." Her leg was between mine, and I pressed my wet slit against her and rocked back and forth. I no longer was conscious of the shame of using her leg to satisfy my need. I wanted to expose my deepest and darkest desires to her with no pretenses to hide my basest instincts.

Instead of the mutual lovemaking in a big bed that I had imagined earlier, Claire had subtly made me into something else, not a lover but a naked needy girl with my face in Claire's open dress, humping her leg and trying to satiate my need. She had used the very techniques she foreshadowed during our bar conversation to exploit what I desired. She was able to sit fully dressed as a regent, dispensing her favors to manipulate and expose my inner desires. Even knowing this I was helpless to resist.

I felt as if I was already wearing her collar and I was more excited than ever, now feeling the full weight of my submission to her. I was close to achieving my release when Claire suddenly pulled her leg away. "Now that we both understand what a needy slut you are, Laney, you have more to do before I consider whether you deserve to cum tonight." I was crestfallen. I didn't understand why she would deny me my release. She shifted in her chair to pull her dress up, so that the turquoise silk pooled around her hips, and slid her cream lace panties down and off. I knew the scent of her arousal now, and lightly kissed her inner thighs on my way to her trimmed brown hair already dewy with her juices.

She moved her legs wider, beckoning me to the valley between her legs, using her hands to press my head deeper as my tongue traced the edges and then and found the center of her pussy. I was grateful and I wanted to feel her cum under my tongue to show my devotion. As I licked faster she pulled the fabric belt from her dress and looped it around my neck, holding it tight like a collar and leash, tethering me to her sex.

As she ascended to her orgasm her grip on the belt became tighter, constricting my airway and making me lightheaded. My hand naturally wandered down to my own needy cunt, now a sopping mess of moisture and pubic hair, as I sought my long denied release. Claire's eyes were now closed but she could sense the frantic rubbing of my hand on my cunt and would not deny me now.

"Cum with me my pet," she hoarsely whispered as her body went stiff, vibrating with the rhythm of my tongue on her clit. I was already with her, with the mild asphyxia escalating what was already an intense orgasm that expelled whatever remaining breath I had in my lungs.

I could barely manage to tell Claire the euphoria I was experiencing. "Claire . . . oh God . . . . . . . . . . . cumming . . . love . . . you."

Wholly spent, still on my knees, I put my arms around Claire's waist as though I was holding on for dear life. I nestled my head in her belly, basking in the warmness of her as she comforted me by running her fingers through my hair, occasionally pulling up a lock of it to her nose to smell my essence.

"Laney, my precious little slut," she declared, "it was either serendipity or fate that brought you to me. I already know that you will be my pet and I'm sure you know it now as well. Do you want to discover with me the pleasures I've been taught in my travels throughout the world?"

It was a rhetorical question. She knew that I was spellbound by her. I nodded yes.

I knew that I had only been deigned to see a glimpse of Claire's dark world. I wanted to dwell in the shadows with her and to explore my deepest and darkest fantasies. I had never consciously considered those desires tucked into the far corners of my heart and mind but now Claire's glimpse of what was possible had churned up those desires into a vortex that was swirling in my mind. I had only read stories and seen videos of those dark clouds in my soul - - submission, degradation, sodomy, lesbianism, bondage, discipline. My baser self wanted all of those and more. I confessed it all to Claire.