8.55am…
Miss Darcy D’Haviland was not in a “nice” mood.
She was not in a bad mood, but it was certainly not a “nice” mood.
As she sped along the Oxfordshire country lane in her open top Audi, her platinum crop of short blonde hair blowing in the breeze and her aviator shades glinting gold in the early morning sun, a red mist had fallen over her, as it sometimes did. Her whole being was like a coiled spring; she was tense; she was a huntress searching out prey.
A mile up the road at the village bus stop stood the target of her affection; 19 year old Amelia Jessica Harris, Jess to her friends, who was lounging against the bus shelter, chewing gum, and scowling at having to be up and about at 9 am. Another boring day at college, thought Jess. How could she know that someone else, someone she hardly knew, had very different plans for her day?
9am…
Jess raised her head as the dark red Audi pulled to a halt before her and a beautiful blonde lady lifted her sunglasses and smiled at her.
“Your bus is delayed,” the lady called put, and she gestured to the empty seat beside her. “Jump in. I’ll take you to college.”
Jess shrugged, opened the door, and jumped in. Her short pleated skirt rode up and she smiled as she felt the luxurious warm leather of the seat caress her bare thighs. She looked at the gorgeous blonde driver who slid her glasses back down and grinned with pleasure as she pulled away.
11am…
Miss D’Haviland curled her fingers in Jess’ glossy blonde hair and gripped hard making the girl gasp and turn her face up to the older lady who already had her half naked in bra and knickers, kneeling at her feet, and dripping wet with desire.
Miss D’Haviland spat across the young girls upturned face and the girl’s pink tongue shot out to lap up the wad of saliva on her pouting lips. Miss D’Haviland gripped the girls throat with her free hand, entirely overwhelming her.
“You dirty fucking whore,” she hissed, and Jess closed her eyes and let out a pleading moan beneath her.
“Every morning I pass you at that bus stop, in your little skirts, or your tight jeans and boots, and your tight tops showing off those big heavy tits of yours, or swinging round that tight arse of yours, intent on teasing those college boys no doubt. And I have to go to my office horny, all wet and worked up, because of some fucking tramp, sitting with my morning coffee, thinking how I would punish you if I had my hands on you.
“Well. Now I have my hands on you, fuck toy. You should be more careful who you tease. I can do anything with you now. Anything.”
Jess sunk her hands between her spread thighs and was fingering her clit through the sopping gusset of her knickers desperately trying to sate the growing desire that built within her as she listened to Miss D’Haviland’s words. She rubbed the clingy wet cotton between the folds of her pussy lips as she moved one long slim finger back and forth over her aching bud.
Jess bit her lip and looked at Miss D’Haviland through wide blue eyes. “You’re good,” thought Jess. “Nice and bold, hot, for an older woman,” she parted her pink lips breathing hard and fast, “But this really isn’t going to work out the way you’ve planned. You’ve pushed me just a little too far.”
9.15am…
Jess had noticed Miss D’Haviland as she passed her at the bus stop; how could you not notice a striking blonde woman in an open top sports car slowing down and giving you the eye each morning, slowly looking you up and down taking each curve with a lustful glare.
Jess loved attention whether from men or women, young or old, and now to be practically abducted by the woman, evidently very interested in her, had to be achingly exciting.
Jess crossed and uncrossed her long legs, squeezing her thighs together, feeling the familiar tingle and heat in her pussy, and the stiffening of her nipples into hard buds beneath her tight cotton tee shirt which signalled that she was getting horny; very horny.
Miss Darcy D’Haviland was not in a “nice” mood.
She was not in a bad mood, but it was certainly not a “nice” mood.
As she sped along the Oxfordshire country lane in her open top Audi, her platinum crop of short blonde hair blowing in the breeze and her aviator shades glinting gold in the early morning sun, a red mist had fallen over her, as it sometimes did. Her whole being was like a coiled spring; she was tense; she was a huntress searching out prey.
A mile up the road at the village bus stop stood the target of her affection; 19 year old Amelia Jessica Harris, Jess to her friends, who was lounging against the bus shelter, chewing gum, and scowling at having to be up and about at 9 am. Another boring day at college, thought Jess. How could she know that someone else, someone she hardly knew, had very different plans for her day?
9am…
Jess raised her head as the dark red Audi pulled to a halt before her and a beautiful blonde lady lifted her sunglasses and smiled at her.
“Your bus is delayed,” the lady called put, and she gestured to the empty seat beside her. “Jump in. I’ll take you to college.”
Jess shrugged, opened the door, and jumped in. Her short pleated skirt rode up and she smiled as she felt the luxurious warm leather of the seat caress her bare thighs. She looked at the gorgeous blonde driver who slid her glasses back down and grinned with pleasure as she pulled away.
11am…
Miss D’Haviland curled her fingers in Jess’ glossy blonde hair and gripped hard making the girl gasp and turn her face up to the older lady who already had her half naked in bra and knickers, kneeling at her feet, and dripping wet with desire.
Miss D’Haviland spat across the young girls upturned face and the girl’s pink tongue shot out to lap up the wad of saliva on her pouting lips. Miss D’Haviland gripped the girls throat with her free hand, entirely overwhelming her.
“You dirty fucking whore,” she hissed, and Jess closed her eyes and let out a pleading moan beneath her.
“Every morning I pass you at that bus stop, in your little skirts, or your tight jeans and boots, and your tight tops showing off those big heavy tits of yours, or swinging round that tight arse of yours, intent on teasing those college boys no doubt. And I have to go to my office horny, all wet and worked up, because of some fucking tramp, sitting with my morning coffee, thinking how I would punish you if I had my hands on you.
“Well. Now I have my hands on you, fuck toy. You should be more careful who you tease. I can do anything with you now. Anything.”
Jess sunk her hands between her spread thighs and was fingering her clit through the sopping gusset of her knickers desperately trying to sate the growing desire that built within her as she listened to Miss D’Haviland’s words. She rubbed the clingy wet cotton between the folds of her pussy lips as she moved one long slim finger back and forth over her aching bud.
Jess bit her lip and looked at Miss D’Haviland through wide blue eyes. “You’re good,” thought Jess. “Nice and bold, hot, for an older woman,” she parted her pink lips breathing hard and fast, “But this really isn’t going to work out the way you’ve planned. You’ve pushed me just a little too far.”
9.15am…
Jess had noticed Miss D’Haviland as she passed her at the bus stop; how could you not notice a striking blonde woman in an open top sports car slowing down and giving you the eye each morning, slowly looking you up and down taking each curve with a lustful glare.
Jess loved attention whether from men or women, young or old, and now to be practically abducted by the woman, evidently very interested in her, had to be achingly exciting.
Jess crossed and uncrossed her long legs, squeezing her thighs together, feeling the familiar tingle and heat in her pussy, and the stiffening of her nipples into hard buds beneath her tight cotton tee shirt which signalled that she was getting horny; very horny.
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“I’m Jess,” she offered.
The blonde woman lowered her gold mirror shades enough to fix Jess in a stare from her captivating eyes.
“I know,” she snapped.
“And…um…this is not the way to college,” Jess continued.
The woman pushed her glasses back over her blue eyes and accelerated heavily.
“I know,” she smiled.
2pm…
It was a hot afternoon and Jess lounged by Miss D’Haviland’s pool, wearing one of Miss D’Haviland’s most expensive bikinis and the lady’s highest Louboutin heels, smoking one of Miss D’Haviland’s luxury French cigarettes and stretching out on the beach towel on the patio. She wore a smile of deep satisfaction and glanced casually at her watch before lighting another cigarette and inhaling deeply and closing her eyes. “10 more minutes,” she muttered. “Let her sweat just a tiny bit more. Not that I’m cruel or anything.”
2.15pm…
Beads of perspiration grew on Darcy D’Haviland’s brow beneath wisps of shining blonde hair. They pooled and ran down her face as she looked up at her young captor through wide eyes.
“Please Jess,” she pleaded pathetically. “Just let me free, and we will say no more about this.” There were two vertical poles about four feet apart in the centre of the room and Miss D’Haviland looked from side to side to heavy white ropes which bound both of her wrists to the poles. Jess had spread her legs and bound both of her ankles to the poles too.
The older woman had put up a fight at first, but had soon realised the superior physical strength of the younger girl and had taken the line of least resistance. Now, with a table beside her covered in crops, whips and paddles, restraints of all types, vibrators, plugs and dildos, that she had intended to use on her captive Jess, she was well and truly “hoisted buy her own petard.”
Jess had taken up a long rectangular wooden paddle. She stepped beside the tethered woman and raised the paddle high above her head. “I said,” she hissed, bringing the paddle down to fill the room with a resounding “thwack” as it met the bare cheeks of Miss D’Haviland’s backside, “that you were to call me Miss Harris, you fucking bitch.”
Miss D’Haviland bit her lip and nodded quickly.
“Yes Miss Harris.”
“Again,” Jess called out. Three more thwacks filled the room as she paddled Miss D’Haviland’s defenceless bottom, over and over. The older woman whimpered.
“Yes Miss Harris,” she cried out.
“Better,” said Jess switching the crop into her left hand, reaching with her right hand between Miss D’Haviland’s legs to grip her pussy. The woman’s sex was open and wet, and Jess slid two entwined fingers deep within her as she smiled. She pushed her hand upward roughly between the woman’s spread thighs, relaxed, and then pushed upward again. Miss D’Haviland grunted each time her cunt was filled, and the squishing sound of her juicy cavity being finger fucked was clear in the air. Jess was thrilled, and added a third finger, and fucked Miss D’Haviland with all the vigour she could muster.
When Miss D’Haviland came, she came so hard that she squirted pussy juice all over Jess’s hand. Jess withdrew her dripping fingers. She groped at the woman’s heaving breasts with her wet fingers, leaving Miss D’Haviland’s flesh glistening with a coating of her own pussy juice. She wiped her fingers across Miss D’Haviland’s blushing cheeks.
Miss D’Haviland groaned, “Thank you Miss Harris.” She blushed harder still. Her wide eyes filled with humiliation and desire.
Jess grinned as she placed the paddle on the table and ran her fingers over the other items as if deciding what she should select next.
“Don’t thank me yet whore,” she smiled.
Jess eye’s sparkled as she watched her captive blonde. Her mind raced with ideas.
“I haven’t even started with you yet honey” she purred.
