When I woke up the next morning, with bright sunlight already streaming into the room, I found myself alone in the bed and with Anne nowhere in sight, which left me slightly disappointed. I had expected to be woken by her, or the other way around, and after last nights intimate confession, revel in the new closeness. I crawled out of the bed and made my way to the coffee machine, my mood brightening when I saw the note on the kitchen table.

Though the small flutter of happiness was instantly crushed when I read what she had written. “Will be out all day, don’t wait up for me in the evening.” It wasn’t even signed.

I slumped down on a chair and re-read the sentence, asking myself what was going on. Was I reading to much into the note? Perhaps she had been in a hurry? But the rational part of my mind told me that I was making up unreasonable excuses. Anne, with all her outward flightiness, wasn’t one to be this insensitive by accident. But I couldn’t, for the live of me, figure out what could be going on in her head to push me away. Was she uncomfortable that she had revealed her weakness? Was she still hung up on the idea she might hurt me?

She was hurting me now, though, and I wished she would come into the room and simply take me in her arms more than anything else. A tear trickled down my cheek, which I angrily wiped away. But I wouldn’t give up hope. So I made myself a coffee and sat there, waiting for the door to open and an apologetic Anne to come back.

After almost two hours and two more coffees, I had to declare defeat. It was already lunch time, my stomach started to growl, and there was still no sign of my girlfriend. But I couldn’t sit around and mope the whole day, so I traipsed into the shower. The water splashing down on me washed away some of the hopelessness I was feeling, and covered the tears I couldn’t hold back.

Afterwards, I put on a summer dress and wrote a note for the unlikely case that she would be home, telling her that I was just running down to the pizza takeaway and would be back in a few minutes. Of course, it still lay untouched when I arrived back, and once the worst of my hunger was satisfied, the pizza tasted like cardboard. I threw away half of it and busied myself with tidying up.

I could only occupy myself with that for a few hours though, and in my desperation not to think, I switched on the telly and coiled up on the couch with a big box of candies, watching mindlessly and crying fresh tears from time to time. I’d stay up until Anne got home, I decided, and make her talk to me. Whatever was going on with her, I just knew we could put it aside if we really talked to each other. We loved each other; we had both said so before we had fallen asleep, and we had both meant it.

I must have drifted off into sleep though. When I was startled awake, it was already daylight again, and the clanging and banging of a parade was coming from the tv. I shot a hopeful glance towards Anne’s bed, and my stomach dropped. It was untouched. But then I noticed that her purse, which had been on her nightstand, wasn’t there.

“Anne?” I asked into the room, hoping to hear her reply from the bathroom, but I was only met with silence. Then a gut-wrenching thought ran through my head, and I got up and took some hesitant steps toward our wardrobe. Opening the door on Anne’s side, my worst fears were confirmed. Her overnight bag was missing, as was a part of her clothes.

Spinning around, I spotted another note on the kitchen table. Walking over and picking it up took an enormous effort. “Brittany,” it started, and my stomach dropped further after I read the formal address, “I know this is hard to understand, but I am not sure that we are good for each other. I need some time alone to think about everything. Anne.”

No “love”, no “Bunnie”, not even “your friend” - the floor seemed to be pulled away under my feet.

“Anne,” I wailed into the room, and my tears turned the world around me blurry. “Why?”

****

I had spent the day moping again, trying and failing to understand my best friend and lover. I didn’t want to use the word “former lover” yet, even though I knew enough about the whole “I need some space” thing not to have big illusions in that regard.

But the darker it became outside, the more restless I got. Today was Friday, and if I stayed inside again, I’d suffocate in loneliness. But I didn’t want to go to one of the usual hangouts and be surrounded by hyper coeds celebrating their exams. In a moment of defiance, I decided that I would visit the Dark Sapphire on my own. Maybe Anne would be there too, a small voice in my head dared to hope, but I quickly quenched it. I’d simply try to have fun there, and if that fun got sexual with whomever I met, that would be good too.

I had only a rough idea about where it was though, not having paid much attention on our drive there, and even less on the ride back home. My first idea was to look it up in the phone book, but I couldn’t find it there. So I booted up my computer and searched the internet. It took me some time until I discovered the correct link in the flood of results, but I finally got to the website and scribbled down the address.

Then came the next problem. What to wear? I wanted something titillating that immediately drew attention to me, in case I did run across Anne. I rummaged through the wardrobe, holding up dresses and shirts and discarding them just as quickly. Then I thought back to my first visit to the club and all the fancy outfits people had worn, and I got a wicked idea. So I pulled over one of the chairs so I could reach up to the highest board where my ‘mementos’ were stored. There it was, and with a pack of clothes in my hand I jumped down from the chair, my mood brightening.

I had to iron out a few wrinkles, and I was a bit fearful that I wouldn’t fit into the outfit anymore, but to my joy, I managed to wiggle into the by now rather tight and short skirt. The blouse, which had been tight when I had last worn it, now clung to my body like a second skin. The blazer what a bit more loose cut, so it still fit. I also found a pair of knee-length white cotton socks and black ballerina shoes.

I thought about also putting on the tie, but that would probably be a bit too formal. When I looked in the mirror, it felt as if I was transported back in time. My old school uniform made me look little more than sixteen. But something was missing. After a little thinking and posing, I realized what it was, and with a giggle, I fetched the nail scissors from the bathroom and started to cut away the buttons from the top down, until it left a good bit of cleavage exposed. Still, that wasn’t enough. So I slipped it off again and, this time using the bigger scissors from the kitchen drawer, cut away a good part of the bottom of the blouse.

When I tried it on again, the image looking back at me was completely different. In the place of the innocent little school girl stood a naughty little seductress, a good part of stomach exposed to show off her belly button, and only two buttons left to protect her breasts from being bared to the world. Two hairclips which sported tiny black bows held back my hair, and with some mascara, a lot of dark, glittery eyeshade and a pale pink lipstick, I had the slutty look I was aiming for.

Twirling in front of the mirror, I gave a small satisfied whoop, then spun over to my bed, picked up my phone and called a taxi.

****

The driver sent me a few strange looks after I gave him the full address, but I got to the club in relative silence. The forty bucks really hurt my finances, but I finally told myself that, with exams over, I could get a side job to earn it back if I wanted to.

So I found myself pulling the entrance open with a slightly trembling hand.

“Hey, Bunnie it is, isn’t it? Good to see you again so soon!” Lucy’s voice greeted me before my eyes had adapted to the brighter light inside.

“Hi Lucy, how are you?” I greeted back, trying to sound confident.

“Good, good,” she piped, “you just here to dance or for more?”

“For… more.” I couldn’t keep the blush from spreading over my cheeks.

“That’s brilliant, cash or credit card?”

“Uhm, cash. How much is it?”

“Will Anne also be here?” she suddenly wanted to know.

To which I could only shrug. “I really don’t know.”

“I see.” Her eyes narrowed a bit, then she sent me a smile. “You know what, it’s normally fifty dollars for a single person, but I might be persuaded to grant you a rebate.”

The feral sparkle in her eyes gave me shivers, but then told myself that I was here to have fun and discover new things, with or without Anne. Two could play games. So I put one hand on my hips, arched my back a bit to enhance my chest and bit my lower lip in a girlish, timid way while fluttering my eyelashes.

“How much rebate, Ma’am, and how would I persuade you?” I shifted my weight onto the balls of my feet and wiggled left and right, as if I was nervous. Well, I was nervous, so it wasn’t all that hard.

She crooked her finger in response, and, caught up in playing the schoolgirl, I shuffled around the counter with tiny, hesitant steps. She only stopped her gesture when I stood less than a foot away from her.

“You already know that I have to check you for contraband. So I’ll do that before we discuss fees.” And without further ado, she bent forward and pulled my blouse away from my body, staring unabashed at my exposed breasts.

“Nice titties,” she commented, “not really big, but firm and round enough for a little whipping.” At my frightened look, she quickly added, “I’m only teasing you, no need to panic.”

When I sighed in relief, she let go of my blouse. “Lift your skirt, all the way, then slowly turn around.”

My fingers trembled when I gripped the hem and pulled it up. Her eyes were measuring my reaction and only travelled downwards when the hem was above my waist and my pussy was exposed to her eyes.

“Naughty girl,” she chided, “going clubbing without panties. And here I had planned to make you hand them over to me. I’ve got to think up something else instead.” Her index finger made a twirling motion.

I started to turn on the spot, feeling her eyes on my nude backside. My blush spread across my cleavage and small spasms raced through my pussy.

I finished the turn a little out of breath. Her eyes didn’t miss the sharp points of my nipples which were trying to poke through the blouse.

“My, my, someone has gotten aroused by showing off her snatch,” she purred. “Let’s see what more we can do. Tell you what, I’ll waive half of the entrance fee if you stow your jacket here and let me take away the two buttons on your blouse. And the other half if you lick my pussy.”

Without the two buttons, I’d have to move very, very carefully, unless I wanted to show off my breasts to the whole word. Which, I surmised, I had done already last weekend. But licking her? For twenty dollars?

“Isn’t,” I had to clear my throat, “isn’t that a bit cheap? The licking, I mean.”

“It is. Would that make you feel like a cheap slut then?”

I nodded, unable to look into her eyes. Conflicting emotions warred inside me. Her looks weren’t that appealing to me; with her butch exterior, she was far from the beautiful Anne, the petite and cute Bao or even the overwhelming femininity of Brenda. Yet, she wasn’t ugly in any way, and a part of me got turned on especially by the lesser physical attraction, because it reduced the moment to something completely sexual and heightened the feeling of submission. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to agree to her terms out loud.

Which she probably sensed. “I’ll count down from three, and if you aren’t at the other side of the counter by then, it means that you take up my offer.”

Needless to say, I didn’t move at all when the numbers dripped off her lips.

“Zero,” she voiced, the satisfaction audible, and pulled scissors from a drawer. Two quick snaps and the buttons were off, then she guided the jacket over my shoulders and down my arms, only then making me aware that I was still holding up my skirt, so caught up in the moment had I been.

When her hands softly pressed down on my shoulders, I didn’t hesitate and lowered myself to my knees. My heart started to race. Why did it feel so right to kneel in front of another woman? I couldn’t say, but the juices in my pussy told me where that need came from.

Lucy was once again wearing leather pants. They had lots of zippers and buttons, and when she opened two buttons at the top and pulled down zippers left and right of her triangle, I realized that they weren’t just for show. Instead, a big part of front of the pants could be pulled down to exposed her pubes, which were adorned by a purple dyed strip of hair.

She stepped closer to me and pushed my head between her legs. My mouth opened on its own accord, and when my tongue snaked out and took a deep lick at her sex, I felt the small shudder that ran through her body. I was getting used to the heady, musky aroma by now, but she still tasted different from the pussies I had licked. Perhaps there was also a hint of perfume there, because it carried a scent of roses under the almost overwhelming aroma of leather.

She was a gusher, I thought to myself, her juices, thinner that anything I had experienced, quickly covering my chin. I pressed my opened mouth over her pussy and lightly scraped over her clit with my front teeth. She didn’t let out the slightest moan, only her deeping breaths telling me that what I did had any effect on her.

I licked some more, and when her breaths were rapidly quickening, I switched my attention to her clitoris, rubbing the growing pearl with my tongue and suckling on it. She trembled a few times when I did that, and suddenly her hands pressed down hard on the back of my head and she let out a low growl.

“Fuck yeah,” she sighed, her hands letting go of me, “I needed that.”

She looked down at me and smiled. “You look cute with my juices smeared all over your face.”

I lifted my hand to wipe away the moisture, but she caught my wrist.

“No, keep it there, so everyone downstairs knows immediately what you’ve been up to.”

She pulled me to my feet and, not letting go of my wrist, and reached over for the stamp, which she proceeded to press onto my wrist.

“There you go,” she chimed, “have fun in the club!”

****

I didn’t pay much attention when I walked across the dance club, and when I reached the entrance to the basement, a group of girls was also about to go downstairs.

So I escaped being fondled by Cass again - I wasn’t sure if I was happy or disappointed about though - and only displayed the stamp on my wrist to slip in with them.

They didn’t pay me any heed, too taken up in an animated discussion about - from the snippets I caught - a new fetish store in town, and riling each other up with suggestions of sex toys to use.

The light in the big hall downstairs was dimmed, mostly coming from bulbous lamps that sat on every table and gave off a reddish light. Once inside, I stepped off to the side and waited for my eyes to adapt to the lighting. It was rather full already, and I wondered how early people tended to arrive here. The dance clubs I had been to only filled up when it got close to eleven, but now it wasn’t even ten.

I let my eyes roam around, something I hadn’t had much opportunity to do the last time. The discrepancy between the well-dressed dominants on one hand and the naked or skimpily dressed submissives was quickly visible. Most of the submissives where kneeling next to their mistresses or sitting on their laps, but right next to me, one was crouched on her elbows, her bum sticking up in the air and her tongue busy licking her mistress’ feet.

A few tables down I spotted a beautiful young woman with long, white-blond hair sitting with wide open legs on the table in front of a group of slightly older women, who had pulled their chairs closely together and were seemingly discussing her attributes, pointing and giggling among themselves.

Two regal dark-skinned ladies, further off to the side, had a pale woman in a corset and wearing a dreamy expression kneel between them and took turns kissing her and fondling her breasts.

Just watching the going-ons was incredibly arousing. But the more I looked, the more my pussy cried out to be touched. I caught myself just in time, my fingers already itching to wiggle their way into my skirt.

I decided to take a stroll through the hall and see if I met someone I knew. I made it halfway through the room when my eyes fell on her.

Bao, in a beautiful, flowing green dress, was looking directly into my eyes, and my breath hitched the moment I recognized her. Next to her knelt the older woman again, her back to me and kissing a younger woman. Bao bent down to the older woman and whispered something that made her break the kiss.

The woman tilted her playmate’s head backwards and my heart seemed to freeze. There was Anne, naked and with a shiny metal collar around her neck, eyes closed in aroused bliss, her mouth wide open. Then the woman leaned over Anne and I could see a huge dollop of spittle leave her mouth and dribble into Anne’s. My stomach dropped. This was the ‘time away’ Anne needed to ‘think’? The anger that welled up in my chest was only topped by the deep, ice-cold, excruciating feeling of betrayal.

Bao whispered again, and Anne’s eyes flew open. Her gaze zig-zagged over the room before it fell on me, and shock appeared on her face.

I couldn’t look at her anymore. I took a step backwards, twirling around - and bumped into something, no, somebody.

“Watch it,” an enraged voice reprimanded me. “See what you have done, you clumsy slut!”

I had to look up to the woman I had bumped into. She was a good thing over six feet tall, additionally wearing high heels. Her hand held a half-empty cocktail glass, and, with trepidation, I noticed that the other half of its contents had been spilled over the side of her red satin dress, leaving a huge, dark stain.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled and hung my head, already close to tears from what I had just seen, “I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s no excuse,” she hissed. “And look at me when I’m talking to you!”

When her index finger pressed upwards on my chin and forced me to meet her gaze, the dam broke. Rivulets of tears streamed down my cheeks.

Her furious expression softened. “Oh my,” she gasped, “you’re not crying just because you’ve spilt the drink on my dress, are you?”

“No,” I choked, “that’s not…” I buried my face in my hands.

“There, there,” she soothed me, and suddenly her hands pushed away mine and her thumbs stroked my cheeks. “Don’t mind the dress for now. Why don’t we find a more private place to sit down.”

Without waiting for an answer, she guided me through the room, and I stumbled along, my eyes too blurry to notice where I was going. We reached an alcove with a table and a rounded bench at the side of the hall, and she pulled me inside after her, handing me a hanky after I had sat down.

“Thanks,” I sobbed and blew my runny nose, then tried to stem the flow of tears. It took me a few minutes to compose myself.

“Girlfriend troubles?” she inquired.

I looked at her, for the first time consciously doing so. She was quite old, from my point of reference, I guessed in the middle of her fifties or perhaps approaching sixty. Her dress was nothing too fancy in my opinion, and together with the curly hairstyle, I’d never taken her for a lesbian, even less someone kinky. She did look rather fit for her age. I nodded.

“She left you?”

“Worse!” I stammered. The tears threatened to well up again, but then a rage gripped me that made me able to keep my eyes dry. “She left me a fucking note that she needed time to think, telling me that she was afraid to hurt me. Not even two days later I find her here, posing as Bao’s submissive.”

“Oh, poor you.” Her voice was full of sympathy. Then her eyebrow went up. “Bao’s, you say?”

I nodded again.

“Then you must be talking about Anne.”

“You know her?”

“She’s a regular here, as am I.” She bent closer, I had the impression that she wanted to tell me something discretely, but then she stopped and wrinkled her nose, sniffing a few times. “Your face smells like pussy!”

The way I blushed and looked away was all the answer she needed.

“My, aren’t you a naughty girl. Complaining about seeing your girlfriend with another woman, and having just tongued a pussy yourself. Who was the lucky one?”

I don’t know why I answered, but I did. “Lucy,” I told her in a small voice.

That made her chuckle. “So you didn’t even make it into the club without behaving like a slut! Such a pretty little hypocrite you are.”

I could only bite my lip and look away again.

“Here, scoot a bit closer,” she prompted me, laying an arm around my shoulder and pulling me toward her.

“Please!” I gasped, trying to resist the pull.

“Don’t you find me attractive?” she purred.

How could I answer that question? No, I don’t, not really? I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, especially after I had spilt her drink and probably ruined her dress. So I kept silent, which probably wasn’t any better.

She put her hand on my thigh, just below the hemline, and when I tried to move my leg, she held it firmly in place.

“You know, deary, there’s still the spilt drink and my ruined dress to talk about.”

My stomach churned once more. Paying for both would leave me without a cent of spending money for the month, if not longer.

“The drink isn’t that important, but the dress cost me eight hundred dollars.”

My eyes bugged. Eight hundred? Forget about the month, this would be three at least. And it would also mean that I couldn’t go to any end-of-school parties.

My face must have betrayed my sinking feeling. “Now, now, don’t worry so much,” she told me while her hand slowly wandered up my leg, “we might be able to come to an understanding.”

If her wandering fingers were anything to go by, I knew where this was going.

She confirmed that thought by pulling me a bit closer and used her other hand to pull the neckline of my blouse to the side, exposing more and more of my breast.

“Bad girl,” she whispered into my ear, “running around in public without a bra and showing off those stiff nipples.”

I looked down, and she was right, my nipple stood proud and erect, defying the uncomfortable feelings the woman’s touch was producing.

“What’s your name?” She suddenly asked.

“Bunnie,” I answered without thinking.

“Bunnie?” She studied my face, apparently wanting to see if I was trying to have her on. “That’s not your real name, is it?”

“No,” I admitted, “it’s Brittany. But my - girlfriend - calls me Bunnie.”

She chuckled again. “I think it fits you, Bunnie. I am Helen, but please call me Aunt Helen or Auntie.”

This startled me for a moment. Calling her ‘Auntie’ held quite a bit of taboo.

“But back to the topic,” she interrupted my thoughts, “how about we settle the issue about my dress without money?”

“I’m not sure,” I tried to think up a way that would neither have me pay all that money, nor require that I got intimate with her. I came up empty.

“I’m always open to alternative suggestions, of course.”

Which I didn’t have.

“So how about you accompany me home,” she finally told me her plan, “where I will punish you appropriately for being so clumsy?” She pinched my nipple, hard, making me gasp. “And for running around like a little slut, without a bra and any buttons on blouse, showing off your tits to the world?”

Just at this moment, her hand, which had constantly crept higher on my thigh, touched my pubes.

Her grin intensified. “And of course I’ll also have to punish you for going without panties. You are a slut, aren’t you?”

Don’t ask me why, but I felt myself nodding, agreeing with her assessment wholeheartedly and feeling that moist, hot feeling between my legs intensify.

“Good,” she purred, “I love it when a naughty girl sees the errors of her way.” Then she kissed me, without warning, and while her tongue was twirling around in my mouth, her fingers started to pinch my pussy lips. I gasped into her open mouth, which drew a satisfied purr from her.

“Come on,” she hurried after letting go of me, “let’s not dawdle.”

I slid out from the alcove and and let myself be dragged after her by my hand. Her excitement was easily recognisable in her hurried steps. We stopped only once, when she admonished me to keep my other hand down at my waist. Which made my blouse flutter and allowed everyone an undisturbed look at my breasts.

When we passed Lucy’s counter and I asked Helen to stop so I could fetch my jacket, the dykish girl appeared surprised. “Bunnie?” She asked.

“Yes?”

“You’re going home with her?”

“Why?”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“Of course she is,” Helen answered for me, crushing my hand hard while I grabbed my jacket with the other.

“Well, you’re old enough,” she told me with a shrug and a shake of her head. “Have fun.”

This sounded ominous. But perhaps it was only the age difference that had startled her. I shouldn’t put too much thought on it, I decided. If Helen was dangerous, they wouldn’t allow her in as a regular, would they?

****

Five minutes later, I stood next to Helen at the passenger side of a huge, dark blue BMW, waiting for her to unlock the door.

“Strip,” she told me instead.

“Here?” I asked, taken aback.

“That’s not what I want to hear,” she growled, suddenly a lot less friendly. “The correct answer is, ‘Yes, Aunt Helen’!”

I swallowed. The parking lot appeared devoid of people, so I might get away undiscovered. And in for a penny, in for a pound. So I shrugged off my blouse and, after a fumbling around for a moment, not knowing what to do with it, handed it over to Helen, together with the jacket. The cool air made my nipples tighten almost painfully. I quickly opened the button on the skirt and pulled down the zipper. The faster I undressed, the quicker I could get into the car. I handed over my skirt with trembling fingers; now I was as good as naked in the middle of a public place.

I whimpered quietly, but it wasn’t quiet enough.

“Don’t play shy,” Helen teased me, “little sluts don’t care about their decency.”

This drove fresh waves of heat to my cheeks. When I lifted my leg to slip off the ballerina shoe, she stopped me. “Keep those on. I like the look of the stockings and shoes.”

She walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk, putting my clothes inside while I prayed for her to hurry up, dreading that another car would enter the parking lot any moment. As soon as the locks clicked open, I jumped inside.

“Put your feet up on the panel,” Helen instructed me while she started the car, “and spread them as wide as you can. I want to be able to see and touch my prize for tonight.”

I followed her orders, closing my eyes when I was done. I didn’t want to see if anybody noticed my lewd state. We reversed out of the parking lot, and Helen shifted the lever to drive. That left her hand free to play with my body.

The drive wasn’t that long, perhaps fifteen minutes, but most of her touches consisted of pinching and pulling my nipple, and by the time we arrived, it was sore and throbbing. The worst thing, though, was that she reached down between my legs from time to time and noticed my growing arousal, making me wonder if I really was that big of a slut deep inside.

Her house was in the middle of nowhere, an old farm, from the looks of it, which had been renovated and the surrounding buildings either torn down or converted into small guest cabins. Trees sprang up from the ground a hundred feet behind the house. We had pulled up right next to the entrance, but when I looked around, I saw a big double garage and had a slightly disturbing thought.

“Helen?” I asked, but she didn’t react. “Aunt Helen?” I tried again, the words only reluctantly rolling over my lips.

“Yes, Bunnie?”

“Do you live alone?”

“Of course not,” she answered with a chuckle, “I live with my husband, John, and his step-sister, Margaret.”

This made me more than just uncomfortable. “Will they…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“We’ll see,” she waved my concerns away.“Now scoot, I want to see you in front of the door in five seconds.”

“But my clothes…”

“Won’t be needed right now.”

“But…”

“Five.” She stared at me, daring me to ignore her order. Gone was the friendly, warm older lady.

“Four.”

I threw open the door and climbed out of the car as fast as I could. When I noticed the small, pointy gravel under my feet, I was glad that she had allowed me to keep on my shoes.

Not wanting to find out what would happen if I exceeded the five seconds, I threw the door shut, seeing her mouth “three”, and sprinted up the few stairs to the entrance.

Helen took her time, obviously enjoying that I stood here, naked and vulnerable. I was sure that two more pairs of eyes were watching me, hidden behind the dark rectangles of the windows. It felt like ages until her footsteps finally sounded on the gravel, and even longer until the key turned in the lock and the door in front of me swung open.