Butterflies: Lesbian b**m

My life has formed a husk around me and I can barely see the sun. I know it is there, I can sense the rays in the happiness and optimism of others. Fate and mistakes and my naive heart have shaped this casing that bounds my hopes and my days, and now it is all that anyone sees in me. But I have changed and matured and I need to show myself, to give myself. I am wiser and deeper and capable of loving if only I could step back into the light. So maybe it is not a husk then, but a chrysalis: an ugly but needed protection whilst I transform from the dreary into the precious. I need to break out and find a kindred spirit, but the life I have made just hangs all over me, denying any change. I am buried where the sun cannot find me and all it does is harden off my shell to make it my prison, not my protection. Every day, every second that goes by, escape becomes more difficult as my courage falters. I may appear strong but I shrink perpetually as I starve the part of me that feeds on the beauty of this world. I need to feel true love for once, before it is too late. I need to be able to look into another’s eyes and see no other relevance in life. I know now that I haven’t got the strength to set myself free; I am reliant on someone else breaking through, grabbing me by the heart so that I cannot fight it, and pulling me clear. What hurts most is the possibility that someone could be searching right now, but I am too deeply enshrouded to be visible, or the baggage I carry is just too much of a burden to bear. But I have a perfect soul that I am dying to give and I am utterly lost without you, so if you can find it in you, please come for me. Please don’t leave me here. Gina She leant back in the leather chair and then swivelled half-away from them, still idly tapping the flat, black tongue of her riding crop on the edge of the large mahogany writing desk. The sunlight in the corner streamed in but was immediately absorbed by the oak panelling that covered the walls. She rose and crossed to the French doors, letting them see for the first time that she was wearing her riding boots and the cream jodhpurs that clung tightly to her thighs and backside. She stood with her back to them and looked out onto her striped lawns that were bordered by immaculately trimmed yew hedges as they sloped down to the herb garden. On such days she wished she could throw open the doors and burst free into the morning brightness, but she had a busy schedule ahead, and right now she had a punishment to administer. She could feel the air of expectation thickening the room as they awaited her next move. She knew they would be eyeing her with longing, and she had purposefully taken up her position to allow this. Their gazes would have followed the drop of her silky raven hair as it flowed down her back, almost to her waist. Then their eyes would have alighted on the outward curve of her hips, which her mother had once described as childbearing, not realising the irony. Inexorably their gaze would have been drawn to her round bottom, just about on the good side of big, and which was, when naked, smooth and olive and flawless. It was marked only by the small tattoo of a jet-black scorpion just above the tuck of her right cheek. She turned around to face them. Two of the girls were standing at attention in the centre of the room, hands behind backs, faces slightly flushed with the thoughts of what was to follow. Well, let them wait, thought Gina. Anticipation was a huge part of the act of domination. Chloe was way to the side, already dressed in a neat black business suit, leaning on the back of a tub chair and barely attempting to suppress a yawn. Gina felt the same rushing tingle in her belly at the sight of her young PA as she had when she had first set eyes on her in that nightclub, some two years ago. Chloe had been dancing on stage, dressed as a schoolgirl. Gina’s habitual composure had instantly evaporated in the buzz that swept her body. She just stared, paralysed and at the mercy of the young girl smiling down on her, totally smitten for the first time in her life. Still now, as far as Gina was concerned, Chloe Bloom was the most beautiful thing in all of creation. Gina crossed back to the desk and perched on the front edge, pushing aside the contract she had just been reading to avoid sitting on it. She caught sight of her name on the document, and as always it seemed alien to her: Florence Georgina Huxtable—a mouthful by anyone’s standards. Bracketed below these words was her title: CEO MedUSA Distribution, UK Division. She never used her true Christian name, and only a few people actually knew it. She had been named after the city in which she was conceived, although she was born back home in . Her family and friends back in the States called her Georgie. Over here, her girls all called her ‘Mistress Gina’. She regarded the two girls directly in front of her and addressed the taller of the two Rose, since she was in charge of the stables and it was therefore fitting that she should do the deed. “I think you should bring her in now,” said Gina. She was aware that her trans-Atlantic accent was at odds with the very English manorial interior of the room. It always made her feel that although she had parted with a substantial amount of hard cash to buy the Ashby estate she was somehow still not the owner of the house she adored, but had merely been borrowing it for the past five years. There was also a slight stridency to her tone, which she wished she could soften, although she knew it gave her authority and had all the girls jumping immediately at her commands—except, of course, for Chloe, who obeyed any instructions at her leisure. Rose had by now disappeared from the room, and her voice was heard faintly out in the hall. Then the door was pushed open and all eyes dropped down to witness the chubby, pinkly naked blonde slowly entering on all fours. Her long hair was tied back in a tail, though her fringe had been separated and combed down above her eyes. Her mouth was being forced open by a hard black rubber bar clamped between her teeth, held in place by straps over the top of her head, under her chin and around her nape, all to resemble a pony’s bit. At either side of the gag hung two small steel hoops, which were used to fasten the reins that Rose behind her was holding. On the blonde’s back was a mock saddle, custom built in shining patent leather, held by a thick, buckled girth around her middle and with a thinner length hanging either side to attach both the polished chrome mini-stirrups. The pommel stood unusually high on her back and curved down in a graceful arch across the seat and then up again to the smaller rise of the cantle. The whole saddle was impeccably crafted, with neat lines of intricate stitching, and it was just small enough to look quite ridiculous upon her. The blonde was made to take a slow, arcing journey to her Mistress’s feet, so that the humiliation was fully compounded. Her movements were all the more laborious due to the ‘gloves’ her Mistress had made her wear. They were fashioned in clinging black rubber that stretched to the elbow. Inside, the girl must have formed fists, because her hands were each contained within a hard black rubber casing, formed unmistakeably into the shape of a horse’s hoof. As she crawled, the viewers could see that her very ample bottom had been filled with a plug of some kind, from which sprouted lengths to make a tail, not in horse hair, but in thin strands of black rubber. She stopped in front of Gina and stayed on her knees, her weight resting back and her ‘hooves’ held up in front of her as she looked forlornly through her fringe at her Mistress. Her thighs looked big and pale and were squeezed defensively together. Between them, Gina could make out the puffy smoothness of her shaven pubis, and just a hint of the dark vertical slit. Below the saddle strap, her belly was in two soft rolls that hid her button, but showed her to be plump rather than fat. Her breasts were small and sat apart, held up slightly by two rock-hard teats that pointed away from each other. Gina watched a string of unchecked saliva dribble out past the mouth bit and ooze down between the girl’s t**s and over her belly, pooling eventually in the triangle of flesh where her clamped thighs met her bare crotch. Gina looked the girl up and down with contempt. “As usual,” she said. “Sarah has been incapable of sticking to my rules. As you know, I have acquired a business in and we are about to complete the takeover, and since I shall be away a lot over the next few weeks, I’ve been trying to give you girls as much of my attention now as I can. Sarah had her turn yesterday, but typically she couldn’t keep in line.” Gina put her finger under the girl’s chin and pushed upwards to ensure eye contact was maintained. “What was it you said?” she continued. “Oh, yes! ‘Ride me Mistress! Ride me!’” The other girls sniggered at the mocking impression of Sarah’s plummy accent, but Gina did not deign to crack a smile. “As you are all well aware, I am not to be told what to do—ever, and that is why Sarah had her f*****g cut short and was sent to sleep in the stables last night.” The others all knew that dirty b***h Sarah had quite probably brought about her punishment on purpose, sacrificing the thrill of her Mistress’s strap-on dildo for greater masochistic pleasures. They also guessed that the reprisals were far from over—and they were right. Gina ordered her play-horse to get off her knees and bend over the desk. Sarah responded quickly, her bottom yawning as she went over and pushed it out for attention. Gina took hold of the rubber strands of the tail and gently pulled to ease the bung from inside her girl. It was a new toy and struck the others as odd, since horsehair ones were readily available, and their Mistress was usually such a stickler for such costume accuracy. Sarah gasped loudly as the wide point at the base of the plug stretched her hole on its withdrawal. As the plastic toy emerged, a communal shiver ran through the audience as the size was witnessed. Even Sarah would have struggled to take these dimensions. They watched her anus slowly shrink back to its normal puckered, slightly open oval, and felt their own bums twitching nervously at the thought of being opened up in such a fashion. Gina held the plug in her palm and moved her raised arm away from her body and her victim’s proffered arse. The genius of her new toy was now evident; not just a tail, but also a whip. Gina’s arm flashed forward and the rubber strands snaked out and slapped against Sarah’s arse cheeks, biting and clinging at the wobbling flesh, forcing her to jerk forward and cry into her rubber gag. The whip was withdrawn, revealing vivid pink lines across both buttocks before the next strike landed with equal force. The Mistress went slowly enough for each lash to register and count. The tongues of the whip splayed out as they flew through the air and landed splat like wet tresses all over the jiggling backside; there must have been some jelly in the rubber content to make the strands grip so greedily, and not fall away under gravity like the ones the girls were used to taking. Sarah was crying out with every stroke and she was marked with lines all over her cheeks and down the backs of her legs. Her hoofed hands were behind her, hovering near the buttocks and ready to offer them protection, but she held off, always just able to absorb the pain. Gina was pleased with her new toy and its ability to deliver a full contact. So many flails lost their sting in the air and landed lightly or inaccurately, and although she liked using crops and canes, a fat arse like Sarah’s sometimes deserved an explosion of instant all-over pain. Her girl was taking it well and although there were tears in her big blue eyes when she looked over her shoulder to see why her Mistress had stopped, she had kept her bottom stuck out all through the lashing. Gina focused on the puffy mound poking out between the thighs, and ran one finger down the slit, feeling the tell-tale slickness there. She pressed forward with her finger and the lips yielded instantly and she sank into the hot, unctuous pool within.