Date: Sun, 14 Sep 2003 12:41:30 -0700 (PDT)
From: Alessandra Tamino <alessandratamino@yahoo.com>
Subject: Alessandra's Awakening: Part I

Alessandra's Awakening: Part I
by
Alessandra Tamino

This story is part fiction/real (I'm not telling
which) and concerns an experience that changed my
sexual life.  Not for minors or adult prudes.
Please send feedback to alessandratamino@yahoo.com!
(Lesbian, FDom/F/F, authoritarian)

I suppose I should introduce myself.  I'm a 27 year
old brunette; I work for a charitable organization
that provides grants for budding artists, and
I'm fairly happy in my job.  I have the respect of my
peers, and an interest in art that makes each day
interesting, but on the whole I have to contend
with a great deal of ennui.

This story is about my attempt to add excitement to my
life -- a bit more than I bargained for, but wonderful
...

I guess I should give my readers more background about
myself.  I'm 5'7", slim, athletic, with what I think
are very lovely legs and firm buttocks.

My eyes are green: my grandparents hail from the north
of Italy.  My breasts are fairly small, but my nipples
are large. I loathe silicone.

My romantic life has been pretty disappointing: I have
to fend off the advances of clumsily lewd older men;
the younger guys are just too stupidfor my tastes,
except perhaps for one, Ernie, who used to work with
me.

One night after an especially successful fundraiser,
and a few glassesof wine, I found myself in his arms
in my apartment.  After a long deep and delicious kiss
he stepped back, and I couldn't believe what he said:
"Sandra, I'd like to watch you to kiss my wife like
that."  I slapped him then and there and ushered him
out.  But somehow the thought remained, since I knew
his wife well: a vivacious 30-year old redhead, very
flamboyant, very sexy.  He left the city with her
shortly afterwards.

I kept thinking about women, though.  Occasionally in
my fantasies I imagined what it might be like to be
with a beautiful girl, an 18 year old secretary,
or sometimes an older woman, and I finally got up
enough gumption to rent a few lesbian porn videos.
But they were not satisfying: for one thing the music
they played in these things was always awful, and
the silicone-breasted girls were so phony; basically
they were an insult to erotic intelligence.  And
anyway, I wanted a taste of something real.

I daren't approach any of my good girlfriends: if word
got out my job would probably be in jeopardy, and I
didn't want to risk some very strong friendships,
since they were married and had possessive husbands
and kids to deal with.  Once I tried to go to a
lesbian bar, but the sight of rough-looking tattooed
and pierced dykes on the way in made me lose my
nerve and I drove home in a panic.

Finally I decided to submit an ad: 'submit' being the
operative word. What I really longed to do was to
submit, absolutely and totally, to a beautiful woman,
no, to two of them: I wanted to be used, thrilled,
pleasured, and ... disciplined.  Just remembering this
gives me a tingle.

I carefully worded an ad and placed it in our downtown
newspaper, anonymously: "Slim pouty green-eyed vixen,
5'7", seeks weekend withtwo lipstick lesbians willing
to train me in the arts of pleasure and submission.
Satisfaction guaranteed.  Silicone-free."

I couldn't believe I ever had the nerve to write such
a thing, but I figured I could always back out.  Two
days after the ad ran I received an email response,
with a picture of two sensuous beauties, both
topless: they looked to be in their 30s and I was weak
in the knees at the prospect of meeting them, if in
fact this wasn't some kind of internet joke.  Jennifer
and Melissa, a blonde and a redhead: their breasts
were thankfully natural from what I could tell.  They
emailed a phone numberand asked me to call.

Several days went by because I was simply afraid:
afraid and aroused, but only when my arousal
outweighed my fear did I give it a go, from a
payphone.

"Hello," said the sultry voice on the other end.  I
stammered, "Hello," and said I was the girl who placed
the ad, that I'd like to talk.

"Why don't we save the conversation for Friday night:
I'll email you ouraddress and instructions.  We'll be
expecting you.  What's your name?"

"Alessandra" I blurted out.  Click, she hung up.

I rushed home to my computer and sure enough there was
the address and instructions -- not driving
instructions, mind you.  They lived fairly
close to me, downtown, in a high rise overlooking a
park. They wanted me to arrive at 730 PM this Friday,
and to plan to return home Sunday evening.  They asked
that I bring nothing except myself and my car
keys, and that I wear a short sexy dress with no
underwear, and high-heeled maryjanes.  If I were a
minute late the arrangement would be off.
If I chose not to come they would never permit me to
contact them.

That was it.  I had only two days to decide, and if I
really weregoing to go through with this,  I wanted to
do a little shopping: I wanted to find a stunningly
sexy dress.  The shoes were a puzzle to me:
all the heels I had were strapless pumps, but I wanted
to go along with their request.

I found my dress, a nearly sheer dark green, to
accentuate my eyes; and I finally found the shoes
after several hours and many quizzical glances
from salespeople.  But they looked more than fine.  By
Thursday night my level of sexual excitement was at
fever pitch, so I decided to call in to work, to
take a long weekend, telling my boss I wouldn't be in
until Tuesday. This would give me time to get my act
together both before and after
the encounter.

 But what did I expect anyway?  I didn't even want to
think ahead.  Instead I spent my time bathing myself,
sweetening myself up. This would probably all be a
bust anyway.  I shaved my pussy so that it was
completely hairless and I fought off the impulse to
touch myself. I coated my lovely body in oils, used my
best shampoos: my hair was short, boyish, just enough
for someone's handful though, and it shone with
lustre.

The moment arrived. I pulled into their building's
garage at 715 and the doorman let me through after I
gave him my name. At 725 I knocked on the door of
their apartment on the 19th floor. The blonde greeted
me with a smile.

"Come in, Alessandra."

I entered.  The apartment was lit low and tastefully;
big windows over-looked the city below.

"I'm Melissa, and this is Jennifer," she said,
pointing to her friend? lover? on the large curving
sofa.  Jennifer, the redhead, was a knockout: very
tall, with shapely breasts and an unbelievably firm
body; Melissa was smaller and a little less tight,
more voluptuous.

They both seemed friendly, and I was relieved.  I
guessed that Jennifer was a bit older than Melissa,
maybe 40, a stunning 40, while Melissa
was probably in her early thirties.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" Jennifer
said, motioning for me to join her on the sofa, while
Melissa poured me a small glass of red wine.

"I hope we'll get to know each other very well this
weekend....."

She smiled and I had the urge to kiss her, to throw
myself at her like a hungry tigress.  But Melissa had
moved to the back of the sofa and reading my intent
lifted me up by the hair to a standing
position.

"Not yet, beauty, we must be patient."

I gathered myself.

"Melissa, let's see what we have. Has she obeyed
instructions?"

Melissa turned me around and lifted my skirt.
"She seems to have been an obedient little girl,
Jennifer."

"Good.  What a lovely dress. Unburden her, Melissa."

Melissa produced a pair of scissors and cut the straps
of my expensive dress.  She then roughly pulled it
down and asked me to step out of it.  I watched in a
mixture of horror and curiosity as she cut this
wonderful piece of clothing into long strips.

"Alessandra, now that you've come you should know a
few things. First, you may leave at any time, with
your belongings. (She chuckled as she glanced my dress
in tattered strips adorning a chair.) Second,
if you choose to stay, you will be richly rewarded by
a pleasure you've probably not even imagined.  Third,
from now on you will speak only when spoken to.  We
will be your mistresses and you will address us as
'Mistress' -- but only after we've given
you permission.  Understand?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Very good!  She's so good, isn't she Melissa?  And
look at her lovely but ignorant body. She has the
makings of a perfect little slut.   Yes, that's what
we'll call you: slut, bitch, cunt, whore, you
get the idea."

I nodded, my throat completely dry.

Melissa moved behind me a ran her hands along the
sides of my body; I shuddered. She gently caressed my
breasts and I gasped with excitement, and then she
took both nipples in her hands and pinched them.  I
cried out.

Jennifer furrowed her brow.

"You didn't have our permission to make a sound.  I'm
afraid we'll haveto teach you a few lessons."

"I'm sorry, mistress."

Melissa pulled my head back and pinched my right
breast very hard.

"Who gave you permission to speak?"

"Melissa, I think our little slut needs some jewelry."

Melissa was gone for a minute and then returned with
wrist and ankle cuffs, which she fastened on me and
locked, and then a collar to which she attached a very
long leather leash.  She threaded the leash
from a ring on its front, then under my aching pussy
and up along my back, then through a ring at the back
of the collar.  When she pulled I could feel the
pressure of the leather on my now-glistening
cunt.  She pulled sharply several times and I did all
I could to keep from crying out.  Jennifer began to
smile as I grew dizzy from anticipation, excitement
and fear.

"Tie her up and let her watch for a while."

Melissa pushed me to my knees and pulled the leash
through the ankle bracelets behind my back, then
knotted the leash to a table leg.  I was kneeling, my
hands bound tightly behind me, and I watched
deliriously as Melissa went round the back of the sofa

directly behind Jennifer. She pulled up her dress with
her right hand to reveal a beautiful pink pussy,
hairless, smooth and puffy with arousal.  With her
left she yanked Jennifer's head backwards and guided
her eager tongue into her slit.
The sight had me reeling with desire and I grew more
and more excited as I heard the quiet Melissa command
Jennifer.

"Lick me, you lovely bitch, lick me in front of my new
plaything."

Jennifer complied as Melissa continued to pull her
hair and rub her cunt all along her face.
Occasionally she moved a hand to pull on one of
Jennifer's nipples, and when she did so Jennifer
parted her legs to show  a growing wetness.  Her cunt
was also hairless, and I wished I could have crawled
over to lick it for her.

"You like what you see, don't you, bitch?" cried
Melissa to me. "If you're good maybe you'll get some."

Then she pulled Jennifer's pert breasts out of her
dress and began to slap them, at first lightly, then
harder and harder until Jennifer was arching her back
and licking Melissa like a frenzied bitch.  Her hands
began to slap Melissa's ass and this drove
Melissa into further wildness.  Jennifer's nipples
were hard, red and swollen from the slapping and the
yearning to be kissed.

Then Melissa abruply stepped away.  All three of us
must have been on the verge of coming... if a breeze
had waftedmy way I would have shuddered with an
orgasm: I longed to be touched, to touch myself, and
to be between Jennifer's hot wet legs, to kiss
her exquisitely sensitized nipples, even to be pinched
and slapped myself by my mistresses; me, a
conservative little thing who had never so much as
kissed a girl or woman.

In the space of minutes, I had turned into a
degenerate lesbian slut. And I was loving it.

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