Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 109: Lynette, her cunt’s desire, and a corridor

I’d just accused Lynette, come up the stairs unshowered to watch me cane Raylene, of smelling good. I’d had a girlfriend not so long before, who’d have been horrified by that. I guess she’d taken “female hygiene” advertising seriously. Which was why I’d decided not to risk it with Lynette. And then done just that. So when Lynette squirmed out of our embrace, I knew I’d fucked it up.

pittShe pulled a face and sniffed an armpit. One of hers, I mean. She pulled a worse face. “I smell like the women’s changing room at the gym.”  

So I said, “That’s what I meant! You smell great!”

“Hmmmmm. Well, you’re the weirdo. I knew that.” 

“No, really, you do. I mean, smell great. I can’t comment on the women’s changing rooms. And you look great. Hot. In a, um, dignified, poised way. Umf.” The ‘umf’ was me deciding to shut up and take her back into an embrace.

Her belly pressed against my cock again. She put her hands back on my ass so I did the same for hers. I liked her ass, small but muscled. Yeah. I pressed my fingers, hard, into those muscles. She made a satisfied sound. So I said, “Come. Back. Here.” As though it was an order. 

She took her hands off my ass for a second and pushed me. Then she came back, and my ass resumed being grabbed. “I was already here. That was like telling a sleeping dog to play dead. And Raylene’s the one who obeys orders. I don’t. Try to give me a real order and you’d be sorry. I mean it.” 

I nodded. “Yeah. That wasn’t an order.” 

I don't know how the women's changing rooms smell, except in general terms. But the internet thinks it knows what they look like

I’ve never been in a gym’s women’s changing room. I guess they smell like one sweaty woman multiplied by a dozen or so, plus air freshener. But the internet thinks it knows what they look like

Lynette decided to let that pass for agreement, though she knew what I’d conceded and what I hadn’t.

We were playing, showing off to each other that we could both give and interpret ambiguous signals. As ambiguous as you can be while holding each other’s asses.

It’s not everyone’s favourite form of flirtation, but we seemed to be enjoying it. And we were liking each other for that.

She said, “All right. For now. Ummm… You’re the gate-keeper, aren’t you?”

“The what? Oh. You mean, I control access to Raylene?” 

“Yeah. I want to fuck Raylene. Well, you know why. She’s lovely. She’s barking mad, if you ask me, I mean this thing she’s doing with you. But she’s seriously fucking hot. ” I nodded. That was true. She said, “Course I want her.”

“And you think -“

“You’re the gate-keeper. I don’t get to fuck Raylene unless you give her permission. Actually, you could tell her to, even if she didn’t want to fuck me. And she would, wouldn’t she?” She didn’t mean she wanted me to do that. She was just pointing out what a bastard I was.

 

2 thoughts on “Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 109: Lynette, her cunt’s desire, and a corridor

  1. That’s one of my favourite fantasies – to be forced by an evil master to fuck another woman, against my will. But it’s like the Paradox of the Masochist – the more I want this to happen, the more impossible it is. It’s like a self-denying prophecy. Or something.

    Ohh, and I will be in London for the whole month of July, as it happens. Shall we…?

  2. I’d like a cup of tea, and I’d love a discussion about filth and the Oxford Book of English Verse, yes. So I’ll sort out when I’m going to be there, and that’d be great.

    As for the fantasy… It’s not applicable in this instance because Lynette and Raylene both fancied each other. So I didn’t have the power to “force” Raylene. I could only “prevent” them, because that was the only thing that would go against the grain. And I had no interest in that.

    In the threesomes I’ve been involved in, except one (you can probably guess which one that would be from the story so far) the women have already fancied each other. I’ve been a catalyst to make it happen, but never a “wicked master”, fun though that would be.

    The “masochist paradox” is indeed tricky. From a master’s point of view, you’d have to find a slavegirl who really didn’t want to fuck another girl, but who wouldn’t get genuinely angry with the master if he forced her to. I’ve mostly only known submissives who fancy other women, or who don’t and for them it’s a hard limit, not to be crossed.

    There was one submissive woman who was in that narrow zone, straight but liking to be forced. But she was incredibly jealous, so when I tried to line up another girl there were sulks and unhappiness for days. That even beating couldn’t fix. I did find a sort of solution, but I think I’ll save that for another story, if we all live to the end of the tale of Raylene. Live long and Mérimée!

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