Date: Mon, 6 Aug 2001 16:49:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: Cat's sara <cats_sara@yahoo.com>
Subject: Hot Summer

"If you are younger than eighteen years
If sex is taboo to your neighborhood peers
If offended by words of frank, sexual sleaze
Take your eyes elsewhere, immediately, please.

Please ask permission before posting this story elsewhere."

(c)2001 by Sara H

----

Hot Summer

by Sara H

Categories: FF, F-dom, MC, NC, cons, inc

----

I loved Reidsville Road. It was the heart of the Grands,
an area of the city marked by a wonderful cross section of
society. Old, young, rich, poor, black, white, asian,
straight, gay... it was a model of tolerance, held together
by people who loved the parks and art shops, and wanted to
be surrounded by something other than corporate America.

It was the fringe come to life.

Anyway, I was taking my standard Saturday morning walk
down the R and R, the local name for this street lined with
small art shops, cafes and alternative medicine offices,
all of which were housed in old, converted Victorian
houses. It was always a nice break from the week, and from
the stress of playing CYA with my co-workers at the office.
Working for lawyers sucked.

The R and R was not too busy yet. Noon brought the masses,
but ten in the morning was still too early for most,
especially in mid-winter. This was "local time"... time to
visit and hang out if anything interesting was going on.

Lots of businesses had come and gone over the years, so it
was no surprise to see a new one nestled between my
favorite bookstore and a hairstyling salon. The name was
unusual, though, and it stuck out among the more sedate
names around it: "Carnal Collectibles".

It was really pretty brazen, even for the Grands. Why not
something else a bit less overt? Regardless, I had to go in
and meet the owner. After five years, I was pretty well
known among the various shopkeepers, and I was not one to
make any exceptions. It was nice to be known, waved to, and
smiled at simply for being around, and it didn't happen by
accident. No one knows you if you don't say hello.

I laughed inwardly as I walked up the short sidewalk to
the door. Twenty-three, and already a socialite.

As I got close to the stained-glass door, I saw a smaller,
hand-painted sign. "Sex and Art and the Art of Sex, by
Womyn, for Womyn." Curiosity swelled inside me as I reached
for the knob. I wasn't a lesbian, but in truth, I had
always found women's erotica more appealing. It was usually
as much about ambience as it was about sex. And when it
*was* about sex, it was "in your face" in a way that was
hard to resist, at least for me.

And one thing we'd never had was a sex toy boutique. Quite
surprising, really, considering the area, but hey, we're
still in the south, and the Bible Belt doesn't usually hold
up very sexy pants.

Have you ever walked into a place where you could feel the
money? Well, this place was like that. The entryway had
been restored to Victorian splendor. Not overdone, but not
understated. The stairway curving around to the upstairs
was covered in dark wood paneling, with brass sconces that,
along with the furnishings, gave a sense of stepping back
into history, a kind of bordello for the Material Girl.

Appropriate luxury. Not tacky. Not simple. There was no
hint of novelty at all. I was impressed and captivated.

I noticed that all of the street sounds were gone. Someone
had put a lot into this. Opulence was not unusual for the
Grands, but this was certainly a different vision. Shops
came in every variety, from Sam's Used Furniture to Le
Metro, but this was a new idea. Or an old one. Well, it was
tres cool.

"Hello!" came a chirpy female voice. I nearly jumped out
of my skin -- I'd been so absorbed by my surroundings that
I hadn't noticed the woman who had stepped through the
curtains from one of the parlors off the main entrance.

"Hi," I answered, blinking. She was fifty-ish, with
graying light brown hair cut in a pageboy style. It was
funny, wearing the t-shirt and jeans she had on didn't look
out of place at all here. It just made it more comfortable.

"I'm Wendy Daniels. Since you're my first customer, what
do you think of the store?" she said smiling, wiping the
back of her hand across her brow. She'd obviously been
working... she was slightly out of breath.

"You own this place?" I asked. The look on my face must
have been pure amazement, because she laughed a bit. I
relaxed, sensing my own silliness, and I let myself laugh a
little, too.

"Well, I won a lottery two years ago. After the usual
unknown relatives coming out of the woodwork for handouts,
I decided to disappear and live my dream, starting then.
This is it."

What an odd thing to tell me, when a yes would do. People
don't usually say that much unless they haven't been around
friends for awhile. I made a guess. "You're new in town,
then?"

"Yep. I was driving through when I found the Grands. I
traveled all the way up into Canada, but this place kind of
called me back," she said.

"Well, for people who like it here, it's that way. I guess
you found your home, like the rest of us."

"I guess. I have some additions to make to complete my
store, but it's only opening day. If you're not busy, I'll
give you a personal tour, Ms...."

"Blair. Summer Blair. Sorry, I guess I was caught up in
the ambience."

"No, no... it's no problem, Summer. Hmm. Summer sounds
*hot*," she said, moving a bit closer and smiling as she
cocked her head slightly to the side.

I gave a thin smile. That particular joking observation,
first made in high school by a would-be clever boy, never
really set well with me. *Thanks, Mom,* I said silently.

She noted my reaction, and to my happiness, did the best
thing she could have: she ignored the fact that she had
said it. It wasn't the implied come-on that had bothered
me. When you live in midwest Bohemia, you either learn to
accept people where they are, or you leave.

She hadn't moved away from me, though. I felt the usual,
pleasant wave of flattery sizzle slightly in my brain. "Do
you get that a lot?" she asked, her voice barely more than
a whisper. So much for letting it go.

"The name comment or the come-on?" I asked, smiling.
Usually calling someone on it was enough to end the moment
without creating an awkward reaction.

"Both," she said, breathily. She was close enough that the
scent of her breath drifted into my nose. It was the oddest
thing. It was almost like it was perfumed. You know, the
kind of thing you can't smell if you try, but that drifts
around your senses, teasing you with the possibility of
pleasant daydreams. "Tell me the truth."

The scent again. I looked into her eyes. Hazel. Dilated.
The hairs on the back of my neck came to life
instinctively. In less than a split second, I went from
casual conversation to realizing this was possibly a
dangerous woman. At least dangerous in a personal sense.
Alarms went off even more loudly as I realized that part of
me didn't care. This was all wrong.

"Tell me. Now."

*Tell me. Tell me. Tell me,* answered my thoughts. I
closed my eyes, trying to stop the echo. It only made it
worse. *TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME,* screamed my brain.

"The name, since I was in eighth grade and Tim Williams
said it on the bus. I blushed, and everyone called me Hot
Summer for two years. I hated it. Every time someone says
it, or anything close, it makes me mad. The come-ons are
flattering, but I'm not attracted to women, so I just
nicely say no."

"Except to me," she said. The scent was everywhere now,
and my head was buzzing strangely over a muted throb. The
entryway seemed covered in sparkles dancing on the edges of
everything. *EXCEPT TO YOU,* my brain shouted at me, over
and over.

"And it makes you wet when *I* call you Hot Summer," she
added, her face so close I couldn't focus. My body jerked
slightly. It was as if somewhere inside I was trying to get
my feet to move. They were glued to the floor. I began to
panic as her words circled my brain, faster and faster.
"Breathe more deeply and tell me," she said, as if she
could sense my fear. "Tell me what makes you wet."

"It... it..."

"Breathe. Tell."

I tried to hold it back but my thoughts were completely
out the door, except for the phrase echoing over and over.
It was so loud it was painful. I could sense her smile. I
inhaled deeply and felt my body relax more. I wanted to
cry, to stop, to do something I could call my own. Then it
came to me. I could still speak. Yes. I still had a voice.

"It makes me wet when *you* call me Hot Summer," I said,
exhaling loudly as the pressure released. "What the hell...
is this..." I managed to get in before she spoke and erased
my thoughts again.

"An appetizer," she said, filling my head with glorious
perfume.

"You only tell me the truth. So it's only fair that I tell
*you* the truth, too. Everything I say is the truth.
Everything I say is perfect. It's so true that you can see
how futile it is to argue or resist... isn't that so?"

There was nothing I could say to counter it. It was so
logical. So solid. "Yes, it's so," I said, happy to get the
right answer.

"And when my truth and your truth don't match, my truth
destroys your truth, erases it, obliterates it... because
*my* truth is the only truth that matters now. You agree,
don't you? You do feel how wonderful and sexy it feels to
be shown the truth, don't you? You're not dense. You are a
smart woman who craves and accepts the truth. I always
know. I can tell."

She paused as the words covered my brain with sparkling,
gooey sweetness and light. I looked at her in awe. She was
the most pure woman I'd ever met. How could I have been so
naive, so arrogant only moments before, to think that I
would want to run from this place?

"Are you heterosexual, bisexual, or lesbian?" she asked,
jerking me out of my reverie.

"Heterosexual," I answered without hesitation.

"And you have a boyfriend?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, smiling as I thought of him.

"And he treats you well?"

"Very well."

"Does he do things that get on your nerves?"

"Yes," I answered truthfully. I was basking in the sun of
suns. I was craving every word, gleefully feeling them
massage my thoughts and demand my response. It was so easy,
so luxurious.

"List them," she demanded.

"He doesn't flush. He leaves the toilet lid up. He never
helps with the dishes. He gets ashes all over everything
when he smokes. He's always late. He doesn't turn out the
lights..." The list went on and on.

In fact, it was beginning to bring me down, there were so
many things. Things that bothered me that I just accepted
and never thought about anymore. I breathed the perfume
just to keep from falling into despair. From everyday life
to emotionless sex, my lips kept moving, painting him as he
truly was. I was in pain.

"I'm sure he has his good points," she said, breaking in.

"Yes," I agreed, finally glad to have the litany of sins
end.

"But they are unimportant, compared to his failings. Why
do you love a man like that?" she asked. Perfume. Eyes.

I searched for the answer. I did. All I could come up with
was, "I don't know."

"You don't know because it's not love. You are using him
to help you feel good about yourself. You like that he
finds you attractive, wants to be around you. It makes you
feel worthwhile. You don't even like sex with him. In fact,
it is the most horrible task you feel obligated to perform.
He's ugly. He has an ugly male body, and an ugly male mind,
just like all men. That's not love. That's self-deception.
Worse, it's self-abuse.

"Do you know why you abuse yourself?"

"No," I said, tears filling my eyes.

"Because there is an empty place in your soul that you
cannot fill. There are many empty places. The largest,
though, is the one that craves love."

I was dying. I had wasted my life. I was tormented with my
realizations, in torture and sorrow beyond imagining. It
was all coming so fast that I was being run over. And over.
And over. I couldn't keep up with the misery.

I'd never known such blackness, even when my mother had
died. The physical pain was pulling the innards out of my
chest as I heaved, sobbing uncontrollably. I was alone.
Alone! Every love a sham... every man a deceiver, every
touch a betrayal. I wanted to die. It had come too fast for
me to live through. *Just let me go now, just let me go...*
the voice in my head chanted in an unending mantra.

And then, I heard an angel speak...

"It is a place only a woman can fill. A place only I can
fill. A place of complete trust and love. A place that
allows you to do anything I ask, because I ask it, because
I am Truth."

I didn't know what to do. I was in a dungeon. I saw the
light creep in. I saw my salvation. I grasped onto it,
holding fast, hoping despite myself that it would pull me
away from the pain of the reality of my life. I pulled my
mind, my *soul*, to her. To her comfort. To her Truth.

I saw her eyes. That's when I knew. It should have been
obvious before. It was, to her. Destiny had brought me to
this place, this turning point. I felt my heart swell in
hope as she smiled and my head filled with the scent of her
breath. I saw her sparkling, making my brain sing inside my
skull, pulling me forward, out of the abyss that had so
nearly consumed me.

"Tell me who I am."

"You are," I said, shaking with grateful sobs, "my Love,
my Life, my Light, my Truth." I hoped with all my being
that it would be, could be true.

"Yes, love," she answered. "And more than that. Your
Guide. Your Owner. Your Teacher. Your Mistress. And you are
ready to learn."

She kissed me, and breathed into me, as my tears of pain
fell away and were replaced by tears of beautiful, blissful
joy. Her tongue tasted of the scent of Her breath, and I
suckled it like a baby, basking in goodness and love and...
yes, in arousal. My skin erupted in goose pimples as the
sensation of Her arms around me slammed home with the fury
of a cyclone.

I was beyond words, now. She stepped away and smiled,
holding out Her hand for me to take. It was the moment of
truth. I gently took it, timidly looking down as I felt the
honor of Her desire enter my being.

She led me into an adjoining room and then through a
hidden door, down a set of stairs and to a chair, facing a
table.

The room was bathed in the scent She had given me.

"The problem with your new knowledge is that it won't
last. The Aroma of Obedience only allows Me to open the
door to your mind. There are other things we must do to
complete your journey to your new life," she said,
caressing me gently with her fingers and her voice.

"You want this. You need this. You must let yourself go
and become Mine, become My True Slut. My slave. Any
resistance must be melted away, burned into obedience. You
must do this as I guide you. You must destroy your sinful,
evil resistance. You have no choice, Hot Summer."

Her words made my body jerk with their power. Arousal
swept through me like a gasoline fire. It was the strongest
Truth I had ever known.

Deep inside, I felt a small part of me, begging me to
fight what was happening. I turned the blast furnace of my
sexual need on it, and watched as it caught fire, the fire
of Her will, charred into a black shell that fell away to
reveal the golden obedience inside, like a butterfly
emerging from the dead husk of its chrysalis.

I must have been speaking out loud, because She said,
"Yes, and soon you will be reborn into *My* butterfly, the
perfect being and expression of My lust and will."

She pressed my head forward gently into a kind of viewer,
like one of those things you see at flea markets, but much
more form-fitting on my face. My eyes were bathed in
darkness. I felt something strapped over my nose and deeply
into my mouth, almost to the back of my throat, and the
Aroma of Obedience became the totality of every breath.

I felt my pants being cut away, followed by the rest of my
clothes, and something placed tight against my wetness. As
the cool air wafted across my naked skin, a tight bra-like
device was placed around my chest, and I felt something
bite gently into my nipples. I tried to grind and squirm to
feel more, but must have been restrained, because I
couldn't move. Even my arms and legs felt anchored. I
moaned loudly in my need, my mind seeking even the implied
instruction of Her touch.

Laughing, She said, "Very good, Hot Summer. I knew I had
chosen well." In the blackness, I heard Her words entwine
themselves into the fabric of my thoughts. "Yes, My little
lesbian slut. That's right. Lesbian. You are Mine now, and
you will *be* Mine until the day you die. I'll be back
tonight. I think I hear another customer upstairs, perhaps
a sister for you. Learn well, Hot Summer."

I felt something being pressed into my ears, and I was
alone with the thunder of my heartbeat and aroused
breathing. I was beyond caring. I only wanted Her words.
Her sex. Her Truth.

I moaned loudly as light and color burst into my eyes.

----

I honestly don't know how long I sat there, cumming as my
pussy vibrated to the Truth pouring into me, merging with
every thought, with every desire. My hot titties shook and
pulled in rhythm with the chants droning on in my ears,
over and over.

Images of my Mistress mixed with colors and patterns and
instructions so overwhelming that to defy them was a joke,
a stab at insanity. Futile. Useless. Thoughts that had to
be destroyed and replaced with Her truth and my love and
devotion.

My arms ached from the exertion of the spasms that wracked
my body as I came for her over and over, passing out and
being reawakened, and starting the climb over again.

I saw men and men's lies, felt the pain of being around
them. I saw the faces of men I'd so innocently given
myself, and heard their words as they talked about me with
their friends.

The aroma filled me. Sealed truth into me. When I couldn't
take any more and fell into screaming pain and fear at the
thought of them, She came to comfort me.

She was my rescuer. She was my salvation. Life without
Wendy became impossible to imagine. There was no other way
it could, or would be possible.

Now that I knew the truth, now that I had tasted Her
pleasure and love, there was nothing I wanted more than to
please Her, to see to Her needs, to protect and cherish Her
in every way I could.

Commands droned into me for an eternity. I recited them
back. I learned them, I lived them... I *became* them to
better honor Her. It wasn't about choice. It was about
destiny. It was about reality. It was about hot summer
tongue slave cunt lapper pain slut dyke bitch ass licker.

Light danced and sparkled in my eyes and in my soul. And
then it was time for the test... the final moment that
would make me Hers, as I craved to be, for all eternity.

Her words whispered in my ear. The Aroma of Obedience
vanished and was replaced with something new, something
sweeter, something I could feel bonding to the inside of my
mouth and throat and lungs. I felt the sweetness, cold and
burning, move outward into my bloodstream. I felt it enter
my brain and nest there.

"I will say the words 'Mistress is Life' again in a few
moments. When you hear the words, you will cum for me. It
will start in your fingers and toes, moving into your chest
and from there, to your pussy and brain. Your entire body
will sing My praises as you climax. Know that it is you who
does this, and no machine, as no machine could ever do such
a thing. This is beyond the physical plane. This is a
spiritual orgasm. As you attain it, it will seal you to My
will for all eternity. Without it, you will only be a
slutty little dyke slave. When it happens, you will become
one of My army of lesbian angels."

There was silence as the power of Her words flowed into
me, the cloying air coating my insides in preparation for
my rebirth.

"Mistress is Life."

For a moment, I felt fear. Nothing was happening. Wait.
Was that a tingle in my finger? In my toe? Yes. It was
starting.

Soon, my fingers and toes were clenching and opening in
orgiastic delight, as the tremors spread down my arms and
up my legs, collecting in my chest, building into a storm
of desire.

I tensed over and over... I could feel my arms and legs
bruising against the straps that held them in place.

And then it swept out, over and through me, banging my
head forward and back as all thought left me and my pussy
erupted in the scalding lava of my juices. My head
thrashed, beating the viewer against me, searing my brain
with fire and unquenchable passion... *cumming and fucking
my soul... my spirit... i was cumming... i was cum...
pleasure... fuckwhore... slavecunt... angelcum...
sparklefuck... cuntsuckbitchfuckasslickcumslutfuckangel...*

And as i thrashed in pleasure, sealing myself to obedience
and pleasure for Her, i saw it... my chrysalis, falling
away... i was golden... i was passionangel... i was
sexdemon... i was flying to Her forever.

i was Hers.

----

You know, Ken didn't really fight about it when i told him
goodbye. i think he'd been looking for a way out. Just like
the end of every relationship before, he'd never said a
word about it.

And as for me, my life is so much simpler. Mistress is
strict, but serving Her is not complicated. She commands, i
obey, and the obedience is better than the sex, and the sex
is beyond what you can imagine.

i've been working in the store about six months now, and
my only problem has been my inability to resist testing the
merchandise. i don't mind though... Mistress makes sure i
am promptly disciplined. And disciplining always makes Her
horny. There is no losing. There is only the painful or
sweet pleasure of Mistress's will.

And there are the training sessions. Hours of
psychobonding and the Aroma, followed by hours of devoting
my heart, body and soul to Her more completely with every
breath i take, devouring Her essence as i gain the
worthiness to worship Her feet, Her legs, Her fingers...
and the ultimate paradise of groveling enough to taste Her
essence, after bathing Her completely with my tongue.

She even sometimes allows me to reveal Her Glory to
others... my former sister, lana, now sister-angel, was the
first i was given the honor to indoctrinate. At eighteen,
she is so fortunate to bypass the waste of her life that
college would be. her tongue and thoughts are better put to
use in my pleasure, and mine in hers, as we chant our
mewling adoration of and undying devotion to our Mistress
of Truth.

And i love staring into her worshipful eyes as we glide up
and down on the Wands of Redemption, pussies and assholes
filled, breathing deeply of the Aroma, while Mistress
watches and pleasures Herself, deciding which of us will be
given the honor of giving Her a moment of Transcendence, as
She takes us with Her into the Higher Realm of Mindless
Worship and Pleasure.

Not every customer becomes an angel, of course, but every
one becomes a follower. And soon we are to attend a closed
session of the Grands Coucil of Women Entrepreneurs...
kindly arranged by councilwoman selma truman, one of
Mistress's most devoted customersluts. Mistress says it's
time to expand Her horizons.

And i am Her devoted angel. Mistress is Life.

Now, if you'll pardon me, my Collar of Instruction is
chiming. i have to clean the Parlors and Enlightenment
Cells, and refresh the aromatherapy generators. We're
expecting quite a few new customers today, and by tonight,
i'm anticipating an orgy that will eclipse perhaps all that
have come before. The sun is out and people like to come in
out of the heat. Soon, they will find the newer, True Heat
that awaits them here, with the Woman of Perfection, now
and forever.

As Mistress says when She is happiest with me, a hot
summer is always good for business.

Mmmmmmmm... fuck, yes... and who am i to argue with that?

----

Please feel free and encouraged (since I love email) to
send any comments or feedback to cats_sara@yahoo.com.
Please mention the name of the story about which you are
commenting.

- Sara