Older women/younger girls - a lesbian picture/story thread

[EllaFord]

Looks like the last post was deleted. Any guidance on why, mods?

 

[pamelapet]

Looks like the last post was deleted. Any guidance on why, mods?

it was a really good view from a slave's perspective

 

[gablondes]

Love this thread!

 

[Followmenow6969_2]

LOVING this thread

 

[Contrary_Mary]

"What's going to happen, Abigail? What did you think would happen when you came over here, when you came to my house? That we'd make out and eat cake? You know what I am, what I do, your mom must have told you that much. So, here's what's going to happen, honey... You're going to change into that cute little outfit I've picked out for you, then I'm going to spank your ass till you cry. When I'm done with that, I'm going to fuck your tight little pussy hard with my plastic cock, followed by your dirty little ass, then I'm going to ride your face until you beg me to stop. I'm going to make my pussy the center of your fucking universe, the reason you get up in the morning, the last thing you think of when I send you to bed at night. You're going to call me mommy and you're going to do every fucking thing that I tell you... But I get it, people make mistakes. If you want to leave, there's the door. I won't stop you. So what is it to be Abigail, will you stay?"
"... yes, mommy."

Holy shit! Sorry. I want her to make her pussy the center of my universe. This is amazing!

 

[puppett]

for now and ever

http://x.fap.to/images/full/49/602/60234210.jpg

 

[EllaFord]

"Why shouldn't we?" Ms. Cole said, touching my knee and slowly teasing her fingertips along the line of my thigh. "After all, you're eighteen now."
I'd never seen her like this, this older woman, best friend of my mom and a constant presence in our lives since I was five. Her behavior was strange and creepy, the kind of thing that mom had warned us about, though I'd always thought she was talking about men.
And yet, despite knowing that what she was doing was wrong, I couldn't escape the fact that her caress felt impossibly soft, impossibly warm or how the look in her eyes made me feel flushed and dizzy.
"I don't think you should do that," I breathed, pushing her hand away.
She licked her lips and frowned, then shuffled in closer to me until her knee was touching my leg, an electric point of contact that made me shudder far more than it should have. "Why not?" she said simply. It wasn't threatening, I want you to understand that. It wasn't a demand or an attempt at intimidation. It was, simply, a question.
"Because," I started, slipping into the autonomic response mechanism that my mom's warnings had instilled in us. "How To Deal With Breach Of Trust: 101", a primer for good girls in the event of a pervert incident. The trouble was, all of my mom's lessons assumed a lack of reciprocal interest and I wasn't sure this applied here. "Because it's not right," I managed to say. "My mom wouldn't..."
"Forget your mom," the older woman said, sliding ever so slightly closer to me. She reached out and stroked my arm with the back of her fingers, causing meadows of gooseflesh to bloom wherever she touched me. "What do you want?"
I melted back into the sofa, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. My cheeks were burning, my body felt as thought it was buzzing. There was a constant, demanding ache in the pit of my stomach.
"I don't know," I breathed truthfully, reflecting the strange conflict that raged in my mind - the border skirmish between my loyalty to my mom and the surprise incursion of my womanly desires.
Ms. Cole smiled and touched my leg again. "Well, let's just take it slowly," she purred. I could feel her breath on my skin, I could feel the heat of her body, radiating over me in waves. "What if I was to do this? How does this feel?" she said quietly, stroking my inner thigh with her finger tips.
I sighed and closed my eyes. "Good, it feels good."
She moved again and leaned towards me, sweeping my hair off my shoulders. "What about this?" she breathed, then leaned in and kissed my neck, twice in quick succession. Her lips felt warm and wet, burning points of contact that thrilled me beyond measure.
I rested my head back and moaned quietly, as if surrendering to a vampire in one of the childish novels I loved so much. "Good," I managed to say.
Her hand pushed further up my thigh and I felt my legs part without conscious decision from me. It seemed my mom's warnings hadn't counted on the fact of my treacherous body!
"What if I did this?" whispered Ms. Cole, lazily stroking her tongue over my ear lobe.
A supernova of sensation erupted in my mind, fireworks of pleasure. I sighed for the longest time, allowing the twin stimulations of her fingertips and her warm, wet tongue to wash over me. The nagging ache between my legs had become a drumbeat of entitlement, an insane demand for more. Wild urges rippled through me, strange desires that had never occurred to me before, but which seemed like obvious solutions to problems I hadn't realized existed. Solutions that began and ended with Ms. Cole's tongue and the painted tips of her fingers.
"Oh gee, Ms. Cole, that feels so good," I moaned, shivering with pleasure.
She moved her body and leaned her forehead against mine, brushing our noses together softly, tenderly. "So, I ask again," she sighed, breathless, her hungry eyes narrowed and predatory. "Why shouldn't we?"
I closed my eyes. I had no answer. Her seduction was complete, her persuasion incontestable.
"We should," I breathed.
And so, we did.

 

[EllaFord]

A Slave's Kiss

I don't know you, but I know I want you. I want you because She says I should. To me you're simply the girl who was there when She led me into Her room; the naked, kneeling girl, fragile and tiny on the floor before me. A surprise, a delight, but not a question to ask.
I recognize your pose as I lower myself down and mirror it with my own. Knees together, arms behind your back, chest pushed forward. I recognize the look on your pretty face; lips parted, cheeks flushed, nervous yet excited at the same time.
I kneel before you, because She instructs me to do so. I copy the pose, because I know She wants me to. I wonder who you are, how you came here, how you fell under her spell. I wonder what She will do to us, what we will do together. I can feel you breathing. I can see your chest rise and fall, a quick cadence of contained anticipation. Our eyes meet, a moment of connection, shared destiny, shared desires. Like midnight lakes; I want to drown in your stare.
She speaks, a single word, "up," and we both react.
I lift up onto my knees, bringing my body against yours. We touch for the first time, a wisp of contact, breast against breast, nipple against nipple. It feels like electricity and we both sigh. I can smell you, your perfume, your sex, your need. It is the same as mine.
"Closer."
A tap on my back, a leather swatter, light but insistant. We come together, you and I, my sister, my lover. My arms slide around your body, feeling your skin against mine, encompassing you in my embrace. I feel you do the same, feel your hands on me, clammy, excited. I feel your fingers on my bottom, grasping, I feel our breasts squash together. I lower my head to your shoulder, bury my nose in your hair, drink you in, become one body with you. Your heart is hammering, I sense it everywhere. You're breathing quickly, your skin is hot. Am I your first?
I feel energized, alive, giddy with excitement and the closeness of you. I don't know you, but I know I want you. My sex sings out, a yearning chorus. It burns between my legs. I wonder if you feel the same.
"Kiss."
We move as one, no hesitation, no doubt. My mouth seeks out yours, eyes closed, running on instinct, a carnal sense. We slow, our lips brush together then come apart, a glorious jolt, infinitely soft. I taste you, your flavor, the sticky tang of your lipgloss, the salty hint of your sweat. I touch my nose to yours, restrained probing, exploring, a fragile dam that holds back desire.
A moment of perfect tension, riding the energy, but we can't hold it for long. We kiss properly, frantic, mouths parted, an invitation, a declaration of intent. I'm lost in you now, you are the endpoint of my existence. I want you inside me, I want to be inside you. My tongue leads the charge, flicking at your lips, teasing you, goading you. You return the exchange, meeting mine with your own, our tongues dance.
My senses are assaulted by the totality of you. The taste of your tongue, the smell of your skin, the grasping touch of your fingers, the sound of your moans. Our lips lock together, pushing deep inside, a glorious war, a fight for ground. I'm drunk on you, intoxicated by lust, by need. Our bodies move as one, hands roaming, pawing, fuelled by an insatiable need to know the other.
I feel hot, wet, slippery down there and buzzing with a familiar vibration. And though I don't know who you are, I know you feel as I do.
Because we are the same.
We are slaves.
We are Hers and I love you.

 

[redder00]

A Slave's Kiss

I don't know you, but I know I want you. I want you because She says I should. To me you're simply the girl who was there when She led me into Her room; the naked, kneeling girl, fragile and tiny on the floor before me. A surprise, a delight, but not a question to ask.
I recognize your pose as I lower myself down and mirror it with my own. Knees together, arms behind your back, chest pushed forward. I recognize the look on your pretty face; lips parted, cheeks flushed, nervous yet excited at the same time.
I kneel before you, because She instructs me to do so. I copy the pose, because I know She wants me to. I wonder who you are, how you came here, how you fell under her spell. I wonder what She will do to us, what we will do together. I can feel you breathing. I can see your chest rise and fall, a quick cadence of contained anticipation. Our eyes meet, a moment of connection, shared destiny, shared desires. Like midnight lakes; I want to drown in your stare.
She speaks, a single word, "up," and we both react.
I lift up onto my knees, bringing my body against yours. We touch for the first time, a wisp of contact, breast against breast, nipple against nipple. It feels like electricity and we both sigh. I can smell you, your perfume, your sex, your need. It is the same as mine.
"Closer."
A tap on my back, a leather swatter, light but insistant. We come together, you and I, my sister, my lover. My arms slide around your body, feeling your skin against mine, encompassing you in my embrace. I feel you do the same, feel your hands on me, clammy, excited. I feel your fingers on my bottom, grasping, I feel our breasts squash together. I lower my head to your shoulder, bury my nose in your hair, drink you in, become one body with you. Your heart is hammering, I sense it everywhere. You're breathing quickly, your skin is hot. Am I your first?
I feel energized, alive, giddy with excitement and the closeness of you. I don't know you, but I know I want you. My sex sings out, a yearning chorus. It burns between my legs. I wonder if you feel the same.
"Kiss."
We move as one, no hesitation, no doubt. My mouth seeks out yours, eyes closed, running on instinct, a carnal sense. We slow, our lips brush together then come apart, a glorious jolt, infinitely soft. I taste you, your flavor, the sticky tang of your lipgloss, the salty hint of your sweat. I touch my nose to yours, restrained probing, exploring, a fragile dam that holds back desire.
A moment of perfect tension, riding the energy, but we can't hold it for long. We kiss properly, frantic, mouths parted, an invitation, a declaration of intent. I'm lost in you now, you are the endpoint of my existence. I want you inside me, I want to be inside you. My tongue leads the charge, flicking at your lips, teasing you, goading you. You return the exchange, meeting mine with your own, our tongues dance.
My senses are assaulted by the totality of you. The taste of your tongue, the smell of your skin, the grasping touch of your fingers, the sound of your moans. Our lips lock together, pushing deep inside, a glorious war, a fight for ground. I'm drunk on you, intoxicated by lust, by need. Our bodies move as one, hands roaming, pawing, fuelled by an insatiable need to know the other.
I feel hot, wet, slippery down there and buzzing with a familiar vibration. And though I don't know who you are, I know you feel as I do.
Because we are the same.
We are slaves.
We are Hers and I love you.

Beautiful as always. Interesting to see things through the eyes of a 'harem girl' *sips on her tea cup*

 

[EllaFord]

Merry Christmas ladies! I hope you've all been good girls and not at all naughty... wouldn't want to have to have a Christmas spanking!

Ella xx

 

[EllaFord]

She could barely remember life before the leash, before the collar.
Somewhere between the crushing weight of expectation and horrendous burden of responsibility, she had come to this life, plucked from her former existence by a woman who knew what she wanted better than she did.
She once had a name, but she couldn't remember the last time someone had used it. She once had a job, friends, a family, a home, but she has not a single idea what happened to them. They belonged in a different universe, one that no longer contains her. They are unimportant.
Her world is smaller now, more focused. Her world is one of obedience and servitude. She lives on her knees like a pet, she walks to heel like a pet, she eats like a pet. But, also like a pet, she is cherished and loved, in a simple way that thrills her so much.
She feels lighter now, free, a strange paradox given that she lives her life in chains - both metaphorical and physical. Her owner tells her when to pee, when to bathe, when to play, when to sit, when to eat. She no longer worries about what to wear, since she wears nothing at all. She no longer worries about bills or rent or impressing her boss. All that she cares about is pleasing her Mistress.
And oh, how she pleases her!
Freed from the burden of everything else, her sole purpose has become pleasure. Her owner's pussy has become the center of her existence, her reason for being. Her only interest is to please Mistress's pussy, her only ambition is to seek out that taste, that smell, that all encompassing feeling of belonging, of using her mouth where her Mistress puts it.
One day, she knows, her Mistress will tire of her. That is her right. And when that time comes, she will simply cease to be. Her work will be done. She will end, fulfilled, happy that she has found her way to this place, this life, and lived it to the best of her abilities.
What more could a girl ask for?

 

[HeatherB44]

Adore this one

She could barely remember life before the leash, before the collar.
Somewhere between the crushing weight of expectation and horrendous burden of responsibility, she had come to this life, plucked from her former existence by a woman who knew what she wanted better than she did.
She once had a name, but she couldn't remember the last time someone had used it. She once had a job, friends, a family, a home, but she has not a single idea what happened to them. They belonged in a different universe, one that no longer contains her. They are unimportant.
Her world is smaller now, more focused. Her world is one of obedience and servitude. She lives on her knees like a pet, she walks to heel like a pet, she eats like a pet. But, also like a pet, she is cherished and loved, in a simple way that thrills her so much.
She feels lighter now, free, a strange paradox given that she lives her life in chains - both metaphorical and physical. Her owner tells her when to pee, when to bathe, when to play, when to sit, when to eat. She no longer worries about what to wear, since she wears nothing at all. She no longer worries about bills or rent or impressing her boss. All that she cares about is pleasing her Mistress.
And oh, how she pleases her!
Freed from the burden of everything else, her sole purpose has become pleasure. Her owner's pussy has become the center of her existence, her reason for being. Her only interest is to please Mistress's pussy, her only ambition is to seek out that taste, that smell, that all encompassing feeling of belonging, of using her mouth where her Mistress puts it.
One day, she knows, her Mistress will tire of her. That is her right. And when that time comes, she will simply cease to be. Her work will be done. She will end, fulfilled, happy that she has found her way to this place, this life, and lived it to the best of her abilities.
What more could a girl ask for?

 

[EllaFord]

Adore this one

Which role would you prefer to play?

 

[redder00]

One day, she knows, her Mistress will tire of her. That is her right. And when that time comes, she will simply cease to be. Her work will be done. She will end, fulfilled, happy that she has found her way to this place, this life, and lived it to the best of her abilities.

It is indeed her right. But where will go the honor and nobility of a true lady, a real mistress? Doing that to the pet and maid who's served her liked that with utmost honesty and loyalty through all that time? It just shows her baseness. That how low and unworthy of her place and titles she is, if she leave her pet just like a piece of trash, a used tissue at the middle of nowhere, empty and with no purpose to carry on.
I'd never do such thing to my pet, unless either because of a big unforgivable intentional mistake or a betrayal. even if I find her not an ideal slave for myself and get tired of her little mistakes or the way she behaves and forgets her lessons, i might simply give her to someone else or sell her.

 

[EllaFord]

It is indeed her right. But where will go the honor and nobility of a true lady, a real mistress, for the pet and maid who's served her liked that with utmost honesty and loyalty through all that time? It just shows her baseness. That how low and unworthy of her place and titles she is, if she leave her pet just like a piece of trash, a used tissue at the middle of nowhere, empty and with no purpose to carry on.

Well said.

Owning a slave for me is the most profound commitment, far more profound than the marriage I once entered into. Offering Pet my collar was a lifetime deal, a responsibility that goes far, far beyond mere sex. I own her body and her mind, and she trusts me with both. I intend to own her for the rest of our lives.

 

[pamelapet]

Merry Christmas ladies! I hope you've all been good girls and not at all naughty... wouldn't want to have to have a Christmas spanking!

Ella xx

Merry Christmas Ella. hope you are well

 

[pamelapet]

Adore this one

a fate may slaves would desire

 

[Followmenow6969_2]

Good morning girls

 

[EllaFord]

Hope all you kinky literoticans have a wonderful and naughty New Year! I've spent the holidays hanging around friends and family, coming up with all kinds of sordid scenarios for new stories! Expect to see them start to drop in the next few days!



Ella

 

[stargame]

Hope all you kinky literoticans have a wonderful and naughty New Year! I've spent the holidays hanging around friends and family, coming up with all kinds of sordid scenarios for new stories! Expect to see them start to drop in the next few days!



Ella

Love it!

 

[EllaFord]

"How may I serve you, Mistress?"
That question became the cornerstone of my life in her service, an oral talisman, worn to indicate my complete and perfect submission. But it wasn't always so.
I'd come from the rough part of town, the wrong side of the tracks. I was wilful, disobedient, failing at school and at life. I was destined to live out my days in cheap bars and rundown apartments, scratching for money and lacking respect. But she saw something in me, something that no-one else had seen before. She took me into her house, offered me shelter, offered me a job, offered me a place in the world.
At first, I pushed her away, I resisted her attempts to mould me into the girl that she wanted. And, when I did, she wouldn't respond with anger, simply disappointment. There were no punishments in those early days, save for her disdain. That stung more than any spanking ever could.
But even the sharpest rock in the fastest river becomes smooth with time, and so it was with me. Fear of rebuke, desire for complements, a Pavlovian response that gradually eroded the rough edges of my former self.
In time, I took her uniform, never questioning how fussy it was, how feminine it looked, how utterly impractical it seemed for a menial servant, designed more for visual appeal than hard work.
With dwindling resistance, I performed the duties she asked of me, following her willingly down a road that became more intimate with every passing day. Household chores at first, personal attention later. I'd dress her, brush her hair, help her bathe. It never seemed strange to me, it never seemed wrong.
All the while, that simple phrase. An initiation of capitulation: "How may I serve you, Mistress?"
And then, one day, a response that gave me pause.
"Take off my shoes, my feet are aching. I'd like you to give me a massage."
"Yes, Mistress," I replied dutifully. I didn't hesitate, not for a single second. Even though some distant relic of my former self screamed out in muted anguish at what she was having me do, I didn't resist. I simply obeyed.
I squatted down before her, on heels too high for practical work, and took her slender foot in my trembling hands. She was dressed to perfection, as she always was. Open shoes that cost more than I'd earn in a year; nylon stockings of the most exquisite softness; a low cut black dress that wouldn't seem out of place at the finest cocktail party. In truth, I felt a rush of inadequacy. That I, a simple maid, should be able to touch such a goddess...
I fumbled with the delicate buckle around her perfect ankle and slowly slid the heel off her foot, exhaling as I did so, experiencing sensations and feelings that were partially adoration but predominantly lust. Without realizing it, I'd fallen for her. The weeks and months of conditioning, subtle hints, gentle nudges, the gradual rationing of affirmation and condemnation, praise when I was a good girl, admonishment when I was bad. Mistress had sculpted in me a perfect pet, utterly devoted, utterly besotted, willing to do whatever she asked, whenever she asked it.
I took her foot in my hands, barely able to breathe, overwhelmed by the sensations that were flooding my brain. How her toes danced under nylon, how her sole felt under my fingertips, silky soft and impossibly warm. The subtle aroma of her, sweat and perfume, intoxicating and indescribably pleasant.
"Use your mouth," she purred, twitching her toes.
"Yes, Mistress," I replied without thinking, feeling only relief at the permission.
I kissed her sole, allowing her to engulf me, relishing beyond imagining the feel of her foot on my cheek. I licked her, unable to resist, desperate to know how she tasted. And, when I finally experienced that delicious flavor, I licked her again, and again, and again, lost in a world from which I never wanted to escape.
She pulled away after an unknowable time, and I gasped in shock and horror. To be deprived of that glory seemed like the worst punishment imaginable. I gazed up at her, begging her with my eyes, not daring to match that longing with simple, inadequate words.
She parted her legs, hitching her dress up around her thighs. Her sex revealed itself like a butterfly opening its wings. A perfect line of pink flex, glistening in the dim light of the room. I'd seen her naked before, but never like this. I'd seen her sex before, but never like this. It was like gazing into the face of God.
"How may I serve you, Mistress?" I asked. But I already knew.

 

[Earthly1]

 

[Earthly1]

 

[Sunshine2015]

Wonderful

This is a wonderful and sexy thread

 

[Kansas]