Lucy awoke the next morning in her four-poster still wearing the tight corset. As she adjusted herself away from the realm of dreams, she recalled the night before and her mind entered turmoil. What had happened and what was she to do?
In short, what had happened is that the passion that had been brewing for weeks, nay months, between her and her friend Jane had finally boiled over and burst into the open. She had told Jane how she felt about her and, to her surprise and delight, the feelings were reciprocal.
You see, that passion wasn’t all. Jane had also revealed to her friend another passion that was foremost in her mind.
What even was it? She knew vaguely about tying people up and cheap porn videos or sex clubs where one person submits to a “Master” or “Mistress” and then is whipped and wears leather or something. But those ideas were vague and unformed and it was not something that she had ever personally considered. But Jane had said to her, in no uncertain terms that, if they wanted their intimacy to increase, she would have to agree to trying out some of this bondage.
And Lucy, overcome by the moment, had agreed.
But did she want to be dressed in leather, tied up and whipped? Her gut reaction was ‘No way!’ but then if it were Jane doing it… perhaps. After all, she had never considered wearing Victorian costume before and, despite the difficulty of the corset and wide skirts, she had sort-of become used to that and even enjoyed it in a way. But was that enjoyment because she was restricted or was it because she was living history?
She didn’t know.
Should she go back to her friend and tell her that she had changed her mind?
She could, but then Jane would undoubtedly feel let down. Was it not a good thing that she had been so honest and besides, if they were to have some sort of future together, then was it not but right and proper that they shared one another’s passions?
Even if those passions did involve being tied up?
But then again, did they? Jane had asked her to try out some bondage and restriction but hadn’t really specified what. She thought back to that strange essay. The girls in there wore collars around their necks and were attached together on a chain when they attended finishing school. They also had their arms bound and wore masks which preserved their anonymity. None of that sounded much fun but then, well… don’t knock something until you’ve tried it.
That’s what her mother used to say, God bless her memory.
No, she would try it. For Jane’s sake. It would demonstrate that Lucy’s devotion was real. And besides, it was only for a few weeks until after the holidays had finished. She could put up with anything for that long.
And besides, if she did, then Jane might go further than she had been willing to the previous evening when, after a lot of kissing and cuddling, she had broken away and made her friend make the promise.
“Lucy here has decided to embrace the Victorian ideal more than before. Although she has become competent at wearing her corset and crinoline, she has recognised, through reading accounts from the time, that in terms of discipline, mindset and posture, she is far from the Victorian ideal. Therefore, she would like you to take over the matter and act as her guardian in this way.”
Jane was talking to Meakes. The two girls had enjoyed their breakfast as usual with Mr. Unsworth and had then returned to their rooms. Lucy smiled inwardly at how her friend was explaining it all to the maid. She really was entering into the role play element of it all and Lucy guessed this was turning Jane on. Perhaps Meakes too if she liked similar things although the strait-laced (literally!) maid never betrayed any emotions.
“Is this true Miss Parkinson?”
“That is fine. However, I am afraid to say that since we currently live in the 21st century and not the 19th, I am not prepared to implement any disciplinary, posture reformation or restrictive measures without your signed consent. I do apologise but I am sure you understand that I cannot leave myself open to any legal claims.”
“Lucy would never do anything like that, Meakes, she…”
“I must insist, Miss Unsworth, as I insisted with you.”
“No, no, I quite understand,” butted in Lucy. And she did. It was yet another case of health and safety gone mad.
“Then I shall print off a copy of the form that we developed for Miss Unsworth and you can sign that.”
The maid disappeared and then returned several minutes later carrying the “form”. Except that it was more like a book, with page after page, each in very small script. Lucy started to read and, despite the legalistic language, it looked pretty kosher. Jane started tapping her feet though to indicate her boredom so Lucy skimmed over the next forty or so pages and then signed her name at the bottom. Once this was done, then Meakes nodded, took the document and turned to her “charge”.
“Right Miss Parkinson, since you have given me these new responsibilities, then I feel it is my place to state some truths that I have kept to myself unto now. Firstly, although you have made admirable progress with your corsetting, you still have a ways to go until you are presentable in society and, with Mr. Unsworth’s wedding not far off, I feel that the progress should be accelerated. To do that, I shall be introducing a lacing bar to your morning routine. Now, I appreciate that there is no such piece of apparatus in the room that you now occupy and so I propose moving you to the late Mrs. Unsworth’s room, so please, come with me.”
Lucy followed the maid through several corridors into the West Wing where Mr. Unsworth slept, into a room far grander than even Jane’s, which had once been occupied by her mother. As they walked, Lucy wondered just what a lacing bar was exactly, but when they got to the room, she got her answer straight away. It was a bar hanging from the ceiling like a trapeze with two cuffs hanging from it. Lucy was stripped of all her clothing save for the shift and then directed towards the bar which she was then ordered to hold. She did so and then the maid fastened the cuffs around her wrists. Wondering what their purpose was, she soon found out when Meakes turned a handle by the wall and the bar slowly rose, taking her with it. Eventually it got to the point where she could only reach the floor with her tiptoes. Then Meakes stopped and brought out a corset.
But not the one that she had previously been wearing.
“This arrived today, Miss Parkinson, direct from the corsetiere’s. The one that you wore before was Miss Unsworth’s and it never fitted properly. This is specially tailored to your body.”
Specially tailored it may have been, but Lucy was not quite sure that she wanted to wear it. It looked considerably longer than the previous one with a busk and smaller in the waist too. Curiously, there was also a strap hanging down from it.
She started to fit it and immediately Lucy could feel that it would constrain her more. Even lightly laced, it seemed to restrict her breathing to a greater degree than her old stays. When Meakes seriously started to pull, Lucy felt most uncomfortable indeed. However, she knew better than to ask her to stop and so she kept quiet, yet still Meakes kept tugging and tugging until her breath became ragged and she began to lose consciousness. “Stop… please… I’m… feeling… faint…” But Meakes did not stop and, before she knew it, Lucy faded away.
She was brought around by an acrid smell in her nostrils. Immediately she tried gasping for air but the corset would not allow it. “You are at nineteen inches now, Miss Unsworth, which is progress, but the corset is still a full three inches off closing. You shall wear it closed for the wedding.”
Sixteen inches! But how could she ever?!
“The lacing bar has made a great difference. It stretches your body allowing for greater reductions,” continued the maid.
As Lucy’s body was recovering from the lacing, Meakes was working elsewhere on her. She went down below, taking the strap that was hanging from the bottom of the corset and fastening it between her charge’s legs, attaching it to the back. It now covered both her sex and her bottom hole although, disconcertingly, it seemed to be covered with what felt like rubber nubs that rubbed against her and excited her. Meakes then fitted a new pair of white silk stockings onto her legs and then brought out a new pair of boots. Lucy was not pleased to discover that these had an extra inch or more on the heels.
“These will do for now until you work up to suitable heels,” said the maid.
The obligatory petticoats and crinoline now followed and then the bar was lowered and Lucy put her feet properly on the ground.
Or at least, the tiptoes of them.
Immediately she noticed a difference. Without the stretching caused by the bar, her waist tried to expand and the pressure around her middle grew exponentially. She felt herself growing faint again but, thankfully, this time she stayed conscious, barely.
Unfastened from the bar, she was led to the middle of the room and her blouse and gown fitted over her head. Today she was dressed in a beautiful creation in blue silk but the beauty was offset by the ferocity of the undergarments that made wearing it possible. Lucy was then led over to the bed and bade to sit down. “Your posture really is a problem and so we must do something to remedy that,” remarked Meakes. She refitted her charge’s kid leather gloves and then took her hands and, to her astonishment, guided them behind her back where they were fastened using a sort of sleeve, a little like a muff, that kept them secured wrist-to-elbow. This extreme position not only rendered her hands useless but also forced her to thrust out her breasts lewdly. “What are you doing? How can I do anything like this?” she asked.
“A lady need not do anything, Miss Parkinson. That is why you have me to assist you.”
And she was not finished with that “assistance” either. Another item was brought out, a high leather collar with a golden ring on the front and lace trimmings was fastened around her neck. This forced Lucy to keep her head erect and made turning it difficult. Finally, restrained and squeezed almost to fainting, she was allowed to mince out of the room with her maid’s support to join her friend.
Jane, to Lucy’s surprise, seemed to be wearing more or less what she had before. She was, however, enthusiastic about the changes in her friend’s attire, complimenting her on the narrower waist and improved posture. And, after that, the day went much as before except that now Lucy needed everything doing for her and she was constantly out-of-breath. Indeed, when it came to a walk around the grounds, she could only manage around twenty steps before having to stop and catch her breath, her breasts heaving up and down for around a minute until she could continue. None of this was helped by the fact that, whenever she moved, the nubs on the corset strap rubbed her down below causing great excitement in a place where, restrained as she was, that excitement could not be relieved.
The loss of the use of her arms irked Lucy the most, as it really rendered her helpless. She looked forward to lunchtime as she knew that then they would need to be released but, to her surprise and dismay, Meakes instead decided to feed her the sandwiches that had been prepared as if she were a baby, dabbing her lips delicately after each bite.
Not that she took many bites. With her waist so compressed, she was full after only three or four of the dainty little snacks.
She also expected release soon afterwards when she revealed that she needed to use the toilet, but again, Meakes attended to her as a baby, wiping her bottom so that she felt quite embarrassed and ashamed.
Finally though, after an evening meal during which Jane’s father was most enthusiastic about the changes and seemed to drink in her new figure to a degree slightly off putting, it was announced that she should prepare for bed. She was led upstairs and divested of her arm sleeve and the gown and then taken to the lacing bar where, to her delight, the crushing stays were removed.
The relief was only temporary of course. The reason that the stays were taken off was so that a shorter night corset could be fitted. This left her breasts free though, which was bliss after having them compressed all day. On several occasions, they had even threatened to pop out of the corset altogether making her secretly glad that she wasn’t wearing a low-cut dress, but being rid of the culprit now was even better.
Her boots were also removed but, to her dismay, once released from the lacing bar she was led to the bed and some unexpected items were fitted onto her.
The first were a pair of mittens that went over her cream-filled gloves. These were in white silk and decorated with pretty sky blue laces, but what irked Lucy was that they were padded and thumbless, so once wearing them, her hands were as useless as they had been during the day. “This is to stop any naughty behaviour in the night,” explained Meakes, “such as trying to undo corset laces or crotch straps.” Lucy blushed. Whilst she had more or less given up on trying to take off her corset, she had been planning on undoing the simple button on the strap and releasing the tension that had built up during the day.
The second new item was another pair of boots. These were most peculiar indeed as they stretched to her thighs and were laced for their entire length. Fitting them took a full ten minutes each and, once on, Lucy’s ability to bend her legs was severely hampered. Worse than that though, the boots forced her feet down vertically like those of a ballet dancer, and they had no heels so moving around in them without holding onto someone else for support was impossible. “They prevent nocturnal wandering,” Meakes explained.
Horrified at what her guardian called nightwear, she just sat in silence as the maid fitted a dressing gown over her head and then tucked her in bed. Jane came around soon after, which was a pleasure, particularly as she used her free hands to explore Lucy’s body (although, annoyingly, she refused to undo the crotch strap), and her lips to explore her friend’s willing mouth. However, she left all too soon and Lucy found herself alone and almost entirely helpless.
And so things continued for a week without much change. On the second day in this new outfit, it was decreed that the girls should join Lucy’s father in the drawing room for a music recital and so they changed into evening dresses which were off-the-shoulder. Lucy found hers, a glorious creation in pink, to be beautiful indeed, but it presented a new problem: that of her breasts which had escaped the corset cups on more than one occasion already. Meakes remedied this by adding clips to her nipples which were then fastened to the corset. This worked, but the pain was intense, causing her to complain bitterly. Meakes nodded in agreement, then took her charge’s right nipple, examined the metal stud in pierced through it and then said, “Perhaps something can be done with this instead?” Thus, the following day, just before bed, the maid carefully unscrewed and removed the studs and replaced them with metal rings. This was all well and good, but what surprised Lucy a little was that, once she had carefully (and painfully – for the rings were much thicker in diameter than the purely decorative studs had been and so stretched the pierced holes somewhat) threaded the ring on, Meakes then used a heated implement to quickly braize them shut. “What was that for?” she asked in shock, the ring stinging a bit from the heat. “Because otherwise, Miss Parkinson, the rings would be too weak to bear the stress. As they are now, we can attach them onto these clips here within the corset busk and they will keep your lovely firm breasts safely ensconced within their homes.” This arrangement was certainly less painful than the clips, although they did drag and tug on the nipples when she next wore an off-the-shoulder number the following evening, but they also had the effect of continually reminding her of those delicate nubs which, added to the almost intolerable tension caused by the crotch strap, was now sending her almost over the edge.
For the first time in her life she understood why many Victorians viewed women as being naturally hysterical.
Lucy stood naked in the room, shivering all over. It was not the cold however that was causing her to react that way, but the fear. What she was about to do was something she wasn’t sure she wanted to go through with. An argument was raging in her head:
One Lucy Parkinson was saying, ‘Go ahead! Yes, it’s been difficult so far, but you must admit it has also been exciting and besides, think of the prize at the end!’
The other Lucy Parkinson shouted, ‘Stop! This is weird! It’s freaky! It’s wrong! Have you really enjoyed spending most of your time tied up, squeezed and silenced? All that and now this? Yes, there is a prize at the end, but is that prize even worth it? If she really loved you then she wouldn’t ask such a thing!’
The two clashed and fought in her head, first one gaining the upper hand and then the other. Finally, the Lucy of caution won over. ‘I shall just tell her no,’ she told herself.
And at that moment Jane opened the door, walked in, threw her arms around her friend and kissed her passionately on the lips. “I love you so much!” she whispered in her ear. “I can’t believe you are prepared to do this for me!”
And in that moment all her doubts had disappeared.
A month passed. It was now the start of September and they were due to return to university. But Jane convinced Lucy to delay it for a week and stay on at Hetherington Hall until her father’s wedding had taken place. “It will be soooo special and, besides, what does it matter if we miss a week or two of lectures; we hardly turn up to them anyway!”
That though, was only part of the story.
The month that had passed had been one of the most intense of Lucy’s life, for it had been a month spent in Victorian costume and bondage with the eternal prize of Jane’s love forever dangled before her but never quite in reach. And the bondage she had been living in was not that which we last left her with.
It all happened so gradually. A bit here and a bit there. The corset reductions were constant and now she sported a seventeen inch waist as a matter of course. Nor was that the only lacing that she endured. Her boots had changed too. The daytime ones now also reached up to her thighs and, like those she wore in bed, forced her to walk continually on tip-toes like a ballet dancer. Jane called them en pointe. Lucy felt constantly unsteady and even the shortest journey was a trial. Thus, she had started to move far less, spending most of the day sitting. But when she did take her (now mandatory) “constitutional” around the grounds, it was an awesome task. The pressure on her feet was immense and to move any distance took an age for the boots forced her to take mincing steps, one foot directly in front of the other, hips swaying lewdly as she moved. And, to further enforce that “ladylike gait,” a short chain of ten inches linked the two boots. The gym bunny now moved like a geriatric.
Her neck was also laced. The high collar was replaced by another a week later that, laced at the back, functioned as a mini corset for her neck, causing her already-laboured breath to become even more ragged. Covered in silk and lace, it looked pretty but beneath the frippery, she was held in a vice and could hardly turn her head, let alone nod up or down.
That though was not the most debilitating of her laced accessories. Instead, that honour must go to her armbinder or monoglove, a fearsome single glove that held her arms together, immobile and useless, for most of her waking hours.
Of course, when we last saw her, those arms were already bound, behind back, elbow to wrist. But the single glove, introduced a fortnight after that initial binder, was another thing entirely. It was the same item as those described in Trelawney’s ‘Corsets, Collars and Chains’, a fearsome construction of leather with loops over her shoulders, that held the arms as one, palm-to-palm, fingers against each other in individual pockets, behind her and then laced to above the elbows, slowly tightened further each day until, that morning, for the first time ever, those elbows actually touched.
The discomfort cannot be adequately described. The pain in her arms when it was first fitted was immense and it only lessened when they went numb from the constriction. But that created a new problem: when unlaced it took time for any feeling to come back into them and, by then, they had been restrained in another manner, either to the lacing bar or in the original binder which had now become de rigueur in bed. Until three days ago that is. Then it was decreed that she would trial the single sleeve for a night.
It was all about posture apparently. Using that infernal essay as inspiration, Meakes lectured to her that, “Your arms should be bound thus for at least six hours each day. Understand, Miss Parkinson, it is the last hours that do the good. The third hour does more good than the first and second taken together. The fourth hour does more for the habits than all three earlier ones. The fifth hour provides a more persuasive remedy than all four previous ones, and the sixth hour is the most curative of all those which have gone before.”
Six hours a day! If only! On that first painful morning, her darling Jane had suggested that, instead, for the purposes of historical research, Lucy should follow the regime of Yelinda Ardmore in the essay. Thus, Meakes insisted on lacing her charge’s arms in a single glove each morning, and she refused to undo her arms until bedtime. Thus her arms were rigorously restrained all day long, every day.
And in the essay it was revealed that this Yelinda’s arms were also, on the orders of her husband, bound at night in bed. “But that shall be too hard for my dear Lucy,” declared Jane. “Let us only implement that when she has grown accustomed to daytime restriction.”
And three days ago, it was decided that her arms had become accustomed. The result: a night of little sleep as, unable to lie on her back as she preferred, she tossed and turned relentlessly.
But at no point did she raise an objection. Why not? Because of another addition to the bondage. A gag consisting of an intrusion and panel strapped behind her head was also worn for most of her waking hours. “Ladies should be seen and not heard,” decreed Meakes the day she first fitted it. Her arms bound, she could do nothing to stop it and so now, except on the occasions when Jane or Mr. Parkinson wished to converse with her, she lived in an enforced silence.
And because she was silent, people changed how they acted around her. They talked about her when she was present and spoke of her as if she were a small child or pet animal in need of care. It was humiliating.
And it was all extremely boring as well. Sitting there compressed and restrained, a vision of restricted beauty, unable to say or do anything, merely waiting for… for what?
At no point had she ever wanted such a thing, asked for it, sought after it. Yet there she was. And now… now she was doing something else entirely.
It had happened yesterday. After dinner, she had retired to her room and been stripped to her bedclothes. Then Jane had come and they had played with one another. Her friend removed her gag (though not the armbinder or crotch strap) and had kissed passionately whilst her hands explored her friend’s passive body. With no sexual release for an entire month, Lucy was bursting with desire and tension. Then Jane said it:
“My darling, you know we have only a few days left and the last of those will be taken up with the wedding and its preparations. I know that this may come as a shock to you, the idea may even appall you, but what I feel for you, I cannot control it any longer. I want us to love each other fully as women, to become one in body and spirit. Do you wish the same?”
“Appall me? Not at all! I long for it too! Please, release my crotch strap and we can…”
“No, not like that. I am a virgin… at least with a girl, and I want the first time to be special. Very special. I want it to be memorable.”
“Me too, so…”
“Shhh, my love. I have another passion, another fantasy. You have been so marvellous in helping me realise so much already, but there is one thing that we haven’t tried and, with you I want to do it, together, tomorrow night.”
“What is it?”
“Rubber. I dream of being covered in rubber, a second skin, smooth and tight, between me and the world. I want to wear it and then join with you in that way, like two dolls almost, two Victorian dolls of course. I even want to do it without armbinders although if you prefer…”
“No, I am happy without armbinders!”
“I want your rubber-covered hands exploring my rubber covered body and your rubber-sheathed hole sharing the same toy as mine whilst our lips meet and…”
“Our rubber-covered lips?”
“Oh no, not the lips.”
And because the image of having free arms and using them to hold her love tight as they coupled was so intense and heavenly she agreed on the spot.
Agreed to this.
She had expected to be given some sort of shiny catsuit like she had seen fetishists wear in 18-rated films set in seedy nightlife venues. Indeed, Jane had shown her the catsuit that she would be wearing for their special night. However, now she was naked in the room with Meakes who was holding what looked liked a spray gun used for staining a fence.
“This is a new technology, Miss Parkinson. Whereas Jane has opted for the more traditional rubber suit as it is cheaper, she stipulated that you should have only the very best, no matter what the cost. I spray the rubber onto you and it cools within seconds creating a much more realistic, flexible and sensitive second skin. You are truly lucky to be granted such an honour.”
Somehow though, Lucy did not feel all that lucky. Kinky as Jane was, Lucy would’ve preferred to be unbound, naked, her skin as receptive to touch as it possibly could be. She wasn’t looking forward to this.
The process however, was easier than expected. The gun was turned on and the liquid rubber, in a realistic flesh tone, hit her. It was warm rather than hot and did not burn. Plus, as Meakes had promised, it dried almost immediately. If anything it had a tickling sensation to it that excited her.
It took a long time though. It was completed, with a large plastic sheet on the floor, under the lacing bar. After so long spent on tiptoes, Lucy found to her horror that her feet were quite uncomfortable lying flat on the floor. Plus, uncorseted as she was, she felt weaker and unsupported around the middle, and so held onto the bar for stability and to keep her feet raised. Indeed, the feet and legs were done first, Meakes carefully ensuring that every crevice and joint was evenly covered. Then came her private parts. It was good to have these uncovered at long last and Lucy longed to bring her fingers down to relieve the tension, but instead the maid, using her own hands clad in latex gloves, carefully dried her petals and fingered them open so that the rubber penetrated within and she was completely covered there too. This was exciting beyond measure and, when the front was done and the maid turned her attentions to the bottom hole, she gasped as Meakes’ fingers entered her bum and the warm rubber jetted in like some invading seed.
The bottom half done and dry, Meakes took a break and bade Lucy sit down on a chair. Then she refitted the stockings and en pointe boots to relieve the pressure on her charge’s feet. That done, it was time for Round 2. The maid worked slowly and methodically up the girl’s torso, carefully fondling her breasts and, when she got to the nipples, using a cloth to wipe the rubber off the rings before it dried so that they shone through, two beacons of gold in a sea of rubber. She worked up to the neck around which she fitted a steel ring. This provided a clear line for where the rubber was to end and the real skin begin. When done, a collar was placed over to hide it, not laced or overly high this time, instead more like a pretty lace choker that hid the join. It looked seamless.
She was then fitted with her corset again, to help her waist cope, but this time the crotch strap had been removed, a surer sign than any of what joys were to come. Finally came the arms, each covered meticulously, each finger separated. After over an hour she was deemed complete.
Lucy admired herself in the mirror. The rubber made her skin smooth and flawless like that of a doll. Under it she felt warm, hot even. What was most remarkable though was how it pressed in on her everywhere, the completeness of it all, and how all her touch now was secondhand and dimmed. It was unsettling but she had to admit that she looked good.
Meakes dressed her in a gorgeous evening dress of white with yellow ribbons and trim, off the shoulder ending in lace and decorated with pink carnations. She looked more of a princess than even Belle in Beauty and the Beast and felt freer than she had done in weeks.
Her heart aflutter, she made her way downstairs to see her friend. Jane was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs dressed in a gorgeous rose pink ball gown. She kissed her and then took her by the hand and they entered the ballroom. Lucy gasped as it was full of people, almost all men, dressed in period costume. They clapped in admiration as the two girls entered and the music began. A ball was being held that she had not been told about and, to the sound of a string quartet, they danced the night away.
Around ten Meakes came to prepare her for bed. Both she and Jane left and ascended the staircase hand-in-hand. Jane whispered, “I shall see you soon!” and then she went with her maid to the room where she was divested of her entire costume leaving only the choker and her rubberised body. Meakes left and within minutes Jane arrived.
Her love looked stunning in a black shiny catsuit up to the neck, whilst her long hair was left flowing and free. Eyes of fiery passion were framed between those long locks and Jane made her way over to Lucy on the bed, straddled on top of her, and nearly dove at Lucy, their mouths fixed together, finally without hesitation or excuse. They explored each others tongues for an eternity whilst their hands explored their rubberised bodies. Then Jane broke off the embrace and turned around on the bed, straddling backwards before lowering her face to Lucy’s pussy, brushing her tongue to a place where no tongue had ever graced before and, with an expert succession of flicks and licks, started to unlock sensations in her beloved’s body that Lucy never even knew existed. As Jane slowly escorted her to heaven, Lucy was overcome with confidence and dragged Jane’s rubberclad hips down so that her own tongue could perform its duties on Jane’s delicate nub, left bare by the gap in her latex suit. Both women brought themselves up to the brink of climax, trying to concentrate on the other’s pleasure even as they were overrun by their own, but then Jane suddenly wrenched herself away and leaned over to her bag. ‘What?’ Lucy asked wordlessly.
With a smile, Jane pulled out a long pink rod. Silicone, flexible, vibrating? This toy was unlike Lucy had ever seen, but indeed she wasn’t very familiar with the paraphernalia involved in this kind of lovemaking. Jane refused to break eye contact, even as she sensually plunged one end into her mouth, took it out still dripping with saliva and inserted it into her exposed hole. Lucy needed no lubrication and she merely gasped as Jane returned to the bed and bent the firm phallus, moaning as it undoubtedly shifted inside her, and maneuvered the other end of the rod into the desperate love channel of her devoted friend and now lover.
After a few awkward thrusts, the heat was back, and the pussy juices left on their lips were intermingling as the first waves overran their intertwined bodies.
Hours later they lay side-by-side in bed recovering from their exertions. Jane had rung for tea which now stood in a steaming pot on the bedside table. She got up, poured a cup and handed it to her lover. “Lucy darling, it’s been a wonderful ride!” she said, handing her the cup. Lucy smiled in bliss and took a sip.
The drowsiness overtook her immediately. Within seconds she had passed out completely.