She knew, at night, sitting alone in her apartment, she knew something was wrong. She would do anything to distract herself, read, watch TV, chat rooms, even meticulously clean. Anything to keep her wall up, the facade that got her through everyday life. She always felt different, her desires a betrayal of the strict feminist teachings that she embraced and idolized at college. This feeling drove her crazy, sickened by the cravings of total submission, objectification, rough and painful sex, all against everything she believed. Her life was going exactly as planned, on track in every way. She had what most dreamed of, perfect career, a home, friends, although she was alone she felt content with her successful life. She had a life her feminist role models would applaud her for. Inside she was ashamed, she admitted her thoughts to no one, these things were the reason she was always alone. She kept her walls up, determination to have her “perfect” life drove her through each day. Very little could console her when the walls did come down, or some detour distracted her from her path. Those were the nights she lost all control.
On a normal night she might have a glass of wine after work. When she started craving something harder, like whiskey, that part of her was getting ready to take over, and it was nearly pointless to resist. Next thing she knew she’d be getting ready. Not like her normal nights out with the girls, sipping martinis and watching women from their perches at the bar. These whiskey filled nights were for her alone, her alter ego, the person inside she didn’t want, was afraid of, was ashamed to be. Her clothes on these nights tighter, more revealing, even downright slutty, perfect for the bars and parties she frequented.
Trying to fill that empty feeling at one of the old lesbian bars, too low-class for her friends, she shot whiskey. She was being reckless, hungry, letting her despair and inebriation deviate the night. The smell of leather, beer, and smoke assaulted her nose. The darkness around her, eyes staring, enticed, new flashing heat, sometimes familiar, these were the ones who encountered her in the past. Others looking for a chance, who could read her and would always approach. Butches, always in leather, their smooth dominant voices working on her. She played their game, followed their lead. At the bar, flirting in the shy submissive way her alter ego had, being taken home, guided inside to her bed. Her usual place of rest transformed to a platform for her to be dominated.
Hot sheets underneath her body giving over her control if only for a few hours, one night, one person. Bound, gagged, blindfolded, she was just a body to be fucked, a toy to be used. Their insults pounded her ears, making her hot and wet. Slut. Whore. Bitch. She was it all to them, exactly as she wanted to be. These nights she was her true self, satisfying the hunger she had that could never be filled any other way. Cock pounding into her, anywhere, just filling her up, inside her where nothing else could touch. She was beaten, paddled, humiliated for them until her body could take no more. She was laid bare for these strangers, the only people who truly saw her. “Yes Sir” She would cry out to them, belonging to them for the few hours of darkness left.
Mornings flashed memory haunting her, her wall rose back up. Mentally blocking the pictures, not wanting to be that person, feeling freakish, perverted, wrong. She would strip her bed, bleaching away the memories of the night before. She held back from flinching on her badly bruised and beaten ass, ignoring the welts on her back under the scalding water of her shower. The next day was always the hardest for her, when the wall that had been taken down needed to be held back up so tightly, when she had to reinforce the persona she lived daily. Calling her friends for their usual Sunday brunch she would go back to being her usual “good girl” self. She didn’t enjoy living her life this way, she even considered seeking counseling to help her stop, to kill her other life, feel normal.
One night, as she lay in bed, her fourth glass of heavy red wine in one hand, her favourite vibrator next to her, her mind drunkenly played back encounters from the past few years, and ones she longed to have. She ached inside, wanting to live both her lives sometimes, to have everything. Wasn’t that the feminist dream? To have it all? She didn’t think this is what they had in mind though. She picked up the vibrator, head resting against the wall, when she heard a strange noise. At first she couldn’t quite make it out, but as she pressed her ear closer to the wall, the muffled sounds became clearer. The distinct sound of a woman moaning, and a heavy slapping sound, garbled words. She thought she heard a few insults and was sure the slapping sound was some sort of paddle or flogger, too heavy to be a single tail whip. She tried to turn on her vibrator, excited by the sounds of her naughty neighbours, but its whine drowned them out. Disgruntled, she resorted to her fingers, imagining what they must look like, creating the scene in her head. The moaning reached a peak at the same time she did, and she was sure they heard her cry out, her clit pulsing on her fingers, she sunk back into her bed sleepily, not even conscious of the spilled drops from her glass next to her.
The next morning, thoughts rushed her head. Who were these neighbours? In the two years she had lived in her condo, she had never met a single neighbour. She couldn’t hear them rustling about, listening carefully at their common walls nosily. Finally she heard footsteps and the followed them to her front door, watching out her peep hole as a tall brunette walked by, obviously in her dress from the night before. So there was only one neighbour. Her brain sought out images, trying to remember if they had ever once seen each other in the elevator, at the gate, anything at all.
On her way out later, she looked at the buzzer, but only two initials marked door five, LG. At her desk, her mind wandered away from work, across town, to her neighbours condo. She gave herself permission to fantasize. It’s not like she was actually doing anything, she could still be behaved if it she could just keep her cravings in her mind, not on the bed. Closing her eyes, she pictured her neighbours door opening to the condo. She imagined inside it had the same layout as hers, but maybe instead of warm contemporary tones with plush furniture, it had dark colors, deep reds and blues, velvet furniture to caress skin after play. The bed would be a king size, with straps and eye hooks at different levels, for easy access to any number of accommodating positions. She didn’t want to imagine what its inhabitant would look like, although it was a mostly gay complex, she didn’t want to rule out the fact that it could be a bisexual male, and the next person being beaten there could be another man. She suppressed the thought and hoped for a woman, a tall, muscular butch woman. She was too excited to concentrate on her papers now, instead she took a short walk outside, the sun beaming into her, the refreshing breeze tousling her hair and the crunchy dried leaves on the sidewalk. She could hardly force herself back into her office on such a beautiful day, and would rather have spent it laying on the grass, enjoying her increasingly sexual thoughts.
Hours later she raced out her office building, trying to come up with creative ideas to meet this neighbour of hers. A cup of sugar? Cable out? Borrow something, anything, a hammer, dish soap, ask about housing values in the building. She wasn’t going to do anything she reminded herself, despite her excitement. Just being neighbourly, friendly, that’s all. Coming through her front door, her excitement had built, and she rushed to shake off her office drone feelings. In her bathroom she checked her makeup, then used her toilet. Upon flushing she came up with a sudden and very necessary reason to visit her neighbour, as the water swirled up at her instead of down, spilling onto her tiled floor, racing towards her rugs. She screeched and grabbed at the rugs, dashing from the water filled room. Grabbing towels from her linen closet she sopped up the mess, knowing that she did not have a plunger, one household necessity that had never really seemed, well, necessary. In her bare feet she padded the few steps down the hall to her neighbours door, embarrassed now more than curious. There was nothing sexy about a plunger or a clogged toilet. She knocked tentatively, then hearing faint music inside, knocked a little louder. Heavy steps approached the door, and her eyes followed a white undershirt up bound breasts to a tall, and breathtaking, butch. The words caught in her throat and blood rushed to her face.
“Hi, I, well, I live next door and I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you had a plunger?” she chewed her lower lip, eyes glued to the crystal blue eyes looking at her.
“Yeah, let me grab that for you” the door was left open as she walked to her own bathroom out of sight. She peeked inside, seeing a sparsely furnished living room, with a simple beige couch, coffee table Ikea style, and the glow of a TV. An overflowing bookcase was next to the couch, with worn paperbacks whose titles were too far away for her to read. She became embarrassed again as the butch returned with plunger in hand, having caught her nosy glances.
“Here ya go.” she stated, handing it out to her.
“Thanks, I’ll bring it back in a little bit” she replied, almost running back to her own door.
“Hey, what did you need the plunger for?” the butch yelled after her. “What broke?”
“Oh, well, my toilet broke, it’s never done that before really”
“Want me to come take a look?” she offered.
“That’s OK, I can handle it” embarrassed, her mind raced, why was she saying no? Right, she didn’t need anyone’s help! She wanted to convince herself but it wasn’t working. Everything she should say, do, think was being tossed to the side as her little crush developed. She should definitely be saying yes, yes to anything this butch wanted.
“Its OK, I don’t mind, I’m not busy” the butch offered again.
“Well, if it’s not any trouble, I would appreciate it” she accepted finally. She knew again she could handle this small catastrophe on her own more than likely, but the need for any excuse to spend more time with her very handsome neighbour, even if it was something as disgusting as her broken toilet took hold.
The butch followed her inside finally, heading straight for the bathroom. Her simple black shoes left tread imprints on the soaked towels, and plunger in hand, started thrusting it into the toilet. She watched a small sweat built on her brow, muscles flexing on heavily tattooed biceps. She had to keep her mouth from hanging open, never knowing fixing a toilet could be sexy. The butch stepped away from the toilet, the sound of water flowing away, down the unclogged drain faint in her ears.
“All fixed” the butch announced, helping herself to the hand soap at the sink, generously lathering her hands and forearms, cleaning them under the faucet.
“Thank you so much, is there any way I can thank you? I’d offer you a cup of coffee but I don’t drink the stuff, no coffee maker.” She giggled nervously.
“I’m going to go home and shower, why don’t you come by in an hour, bring something hot.” The butch said, winking at her. She thought she was going to faint, a knot growing in her stomach, she just nodded.
She showered as well, smoothing her skin with her razor, almost unable to steady her shaking hand. She coated her body with a small amount of perfumed lotion, just in case this lead to anywhere her fantasies were easily taking her. She carefully chose a short black skirt that skimmed the middle of her thighs loosely, and a cashmere soft pink cardigan, the tiny pearlescent buttons cold on her fingers, a matching satin camisole underneath. She didn’t bother with any jewelry. Taking time on her panty selection, finally settling on a simple black thong, one she usually wore on her nights out. She left her long, fine blond hair hanging straight down her back, a rubber band on her wrist if she changed her mind. That voice in her head, keeping her in check, was getting smaller, a tiny whisper begging her to stop before anything further happened. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath, quieting the voice once and for all. In her kitchen, just in case, she prepared two cups of her favourite tea, the bergamot aroma teasing her nose as she carried them next door.
Her knock was more confidant this time. The butch answered the door, a simple black tank top, and tight fitting dark blue jeans. Her eyes followed the heavy black tattoos up tanned muscular arms to broad shoulders, where they disappeared under the dark fabric. The jeans held a prominent bulge. She swallowed hard.
“I brought something hot” she said with a smile, feeling cheesy.
The butches eyes traveled slowly up and down her body, then to the cups in her hand.
“I see that” she smiled back playfully. “Come on in, I’m Lee by the way”
“Gwen” she stated simply, slowly pulling herself together.
This was a new situation to her, a combining of her worlds, she felt unsure how to act, especially without the aid of alcohol. One thing she did know was that if there was any chance for her to experience what she had heard the other night, she would have to stop acting like a nervous teenager and play into this scene.
Lee took the cups from her, and she followed into the dimly lit living room. Her eyes tried to adjust, the cups sat on the coffee table, and Lee turned back to her before she reached the couch. Lees boots were heavy on the polished wood floor, advancing towards her, she carefully took steps back, until she felt the cold wall pressing against her shoulders. The blue eyes were darker now, more intense, taking her in completely, a foreshadowing of what was to come. Her breath caught in her throat, as Lee caught her wrists, pinning them to the wall with one hand.
“I’ve heard you through the wall before, you and I seem to have quite a bit in common.” Lees fingers traced her chin, collar bone, the front of her sweater, large fingers opening the sweater, tiny buttons yielding a passage to her satin covered breasts. A rough knee spread her legs further, pressing against her panties. Lees eyebrow raised expectantly, waiting for a response.
“Yes” was all she could manage, letting that one word be an answer and a consent.
“Now I believe I asked you to bring something hot. The tea was a nice gesture, but I had my sights set on something else.” Lee lowered to her knees, her hands caressing Gwen’s thighs, then raising the black fabric to find the minuscule g-string that covered her pussy. Lees mouth worked the insides of her spread thighs, Gwen could barely hold still from the hungry bites and kisses that eased higher and higher. Her short black hair, gelled into tiny spikes, scratched against Gwen’s exposed skin. Lees tongue licked the outside of the g-string, tasting her wetness through the taut material. Gwen heard a growl, and the hands at her sides became rough, almost ripping the panties from her.
She steadied herself to keep from falling as they were tugged from her feet. Her skirt raised again, Lee’s face disappeared between her legs, a hard tongue spreading her freshly shaved pussy, the hands pulling her open farther. The tongue pressed hard into her clit, a pressure that was almost too much for her to bear. Her hands were on Lee’s shoulder’s, holding herself up, her knees weak.
“Please Lee, I’m going to come” She was unsure she could stop herself if Lee said no. Instead, she felt fingers push into her pussy, and seconds later, more fingers into her ass. Her fingernails clawed at the wall behind her, Lee’s arm was under her, supporting her weight. Her breasts strained against their satin encasement, nipples wrinkled and hard. When she could hold back no longer, her head thrown back against the wall, a shrieking scream escaping, the grunting and moaning beneath her pushing her further, she felt her pussy contract so hard she was sure the fingers had been expelled, but instead she was filled more. Her clit swelled and she felt what she could only describe as an eruption, had she been able to form words, her body shaking. The waves washed over her, she felt drugged. Lee came up and kissed her, face and arm drenched, she knew she had ejaculated. Her body ached from the violent tension.
She wanted to be tired, but Lee would not have it. Lee was still not satiated, and she pushed herself to please her further, not wanting it to end. She felt the bulge between Lee’s legs, and slowly, she unbuckled the belt, pulling apart the buttons until the soft fabric of white boxer briefs was the only shield between her and Lee’s cock. She rubbed it slowly, up and down the shaft, feeling Lee’s hips begin to move with her hand. Finally she reached into the boxers, pulling out the flesh coloured shaft, large in her small hand. Lees hands stroked her sides, her breath ragged, then her hands grabbed at her thighs, pulling them apart and around her waist. Teeth sunk into her neck, Lee guided the cock inside her, fucking her against the wall, pounding her so hard she was sure they would leave a dent in the plaster. Her arms were tight around Lee’s neck, afraid she would fall, but Lee was pressed to her so hard that she couldn’t move if she wanted to. Obscenities were growled between gritted teeth as Lee came against her, rocking until her body could take no more, letting Gwen down slowly.
She wanted to get on her knees, clean the cock for her, but instead she was taken to the couch. Lee adjusted her sweater for her, even her skirt, as if trying to put her back together. She leaned back on the couch, resting, tucking her cock back into her pants. Gwen sat there, unsure what to do, letting her eyes drink Lee in. Her pussy throbbed and ached, but she still wanted more. Lee’s hand found her back, stroking her long hair as she looked at her. Lee started smirking, and before she could ask what about, Gwen was pushed forward. Lee’s arms deftly moved her into her lap. No fight was in her, had she wanted to she was too shocked to even try.
Gwen waited the few seconds for Lee to start spanking her. She felt something hit her ass. It wasn’t a hand, but it still felt familiar. It smacked her repeatedly, along her thighs, the rise in her ass, varying in its ferocity, but the noise was incredible. Her ass began to sting, and she wiggled to press her pussy against Lee’s legs. She could feel the labored breathing against her side. Fingers slid into her ass again, and the instrument was dropped. Now Lee’s hands alternated thrusts into her with slaps, a rhythm that quickened. She bit into the couch cushion, muffling her cries. She raised her ass up, trying to take more. Instead Lee’s hand slowed, teasing her.
“Please, please, please” she could only manage to say.
“Please what? What is it you want?” Lee taunted back at her. She hated saying what she wanted, it made her feel too exposed, admitting to her desires. She wasn’t drunk for that kind of honesty. It was harder for her than anything else. Lee’s hands kept at her, bringing her to the point of orgasm then denying her.
“Not until you tell me what you want” Lee demanded. She wanted to cry, so frustrated, she pushed to let the words out.
“Please, please fuck me.” she mumbled, mouth dry and tight, trying to hold back the words.
“I didn’t hear you, tell me exactly what you want” Lee wasn’t letting her off that easy.
“Please fuck me, use me, please make me come” her jaw hurt, speaking through clenched teeth. As Lee’s pace quickened, her brain became hazy, so concentrated on the physical pleasure she couldn’t be in her head any longer. “Please Lee, don’t stop” her voice was getting shrill, she was almost at orgasm again, and not sure she could turn back.
“That’s better, I like hearing you beg, hearing you say my name. I suppose I can let you come now.” Lee’s permission was all she needed, her body tightened, her clit ground into the jeans below her. The hand spanking her was harder, three loud smacks as she screamed, bucking and moving so that Lee’s hand to hold onto her to keep her from falling off. Lee helped her up she sat, resting, catching her breath. She leaned against the back of the couch, her eyes half open. Lee still felt tense next to her, and she watched as Lee’s hand went into her pants again, stroking the hard cock strapped there.
“What can I do?” she asked. She felt small and bare.
“Just watch me” Lee answered, her eyes wandering over her.
She watched intently, Lees hands went into her pants, guided her cock out of her pants, the shaft standing tall. Lee’s hand worked it up and down, jacking herself off. Gwen wanted to touch her so badly, to stroke it for her, but she obeyed, just watching. Once in a while Lee’s eyes would momentarily close, open, looking at her, staring at her for moments, then going back into her reverie. Finally her body tensed, her hips thrust up, fucking the air, muttering “shit” and a soft groan. Her hand pushed to the base of the cock, her breath was fast, harder. Her body shook and then she was still, looking at Gwen, letting the cock go. Gwen had been holding her breath, so enthralled with the scene. After a while of resting Lee put herself back together, then helped Gwen. She touched her face, kissing her, holding her.
“I get up really early for work, but I want to see more of you. I expect you back here tomorrow night. I’ll leave you a note with instructions in the morning.” Lee said, squeezing her tightly. Gwen was disappointed to be leaving, but she could feel her body begging her for rest.
“OK, I’ll see you tomorrow then. By the way, what should I call you?” she asked
“Lee, for now, well work on other titles later” Lee led her to the door.
She went back to her apartment, climbed into her bed, excited about the next day. There would be no more scrubbing away her nights, she would not let herself feel shame about Lee. In fact, she felt comforted that she was just on the other side of the wall. And Lee was thinking about Gwen in the same way.