Sapphic Seduction Vol 2

Hardware

Hardware

Caroline and Della walked up to the shed door, paused, and exchanged a nervous glance.

Taking a deep breath, Caroline straightened her spine and pushed back her shoulders. “Come on, Dell, we’re almost there. This is the last big job we’ve got to do. Then we can move on to the fun stuff. Like decorating and building furniture.”

“I know,” Della replied, eyeing the wooden storage space with distaste, “but it’s also the most terrifying. We haven’t got a clue what’s in there. Could be dead bodies or rotting body parts for all we know.”

Rolling her eyes, Caroline replied, “It is the most terrifying, but you might be letting your imagination run away with you a bit. I don’t think the old boy was a serial killer, somehow. He was ninety, for Christ’s sake!”

“He wasn’t always ninety. He was our age once.”

“True, but if he’d been hiding bodies or body parts in his shed for decades, someone would have noticed. The smell, for starters. And flies. Rats.”

Grimacing, Della said, “Guess we’ll soon find out.”

Caroline twisted the key in the lock, then opened the shed door with a sense of trepidation. Unlike her girlfriend, she wasn’t expecting anything sinister to be lurking in the gloom. More a whole bunch of stuff they wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. They’d bought the property—their first, after renting for years—from the family of the old boy who had recently passed away. None of the family was local, so they’d offered a hefty discount on the house to compensate Caroline and Della for cleaning it out.

It hadn’t been all bad—they’d made a tidy sum from selling some of the stuff they didn’t want; including antique and handmade furniture, collectibles, and a considerable book and DVD collection. The latter, as well as piles of old photographs, which they’d forwarded on to the family, had given them a real insight into Ted’s life and the type of person he was. Which was why Caroline wasn’t worried about finding anything nefarious in the shed. He had been a nice bloke, by all accounts, fond of his family, his friends, and his work. Carpentry had been his vocation, not just his career—hence the handmade furniture they’d sold on. So, Caroline’s common sense was telling her the scariest thing they were likely to find was spiders.

She reached inside to undo the bolts holding the other door closed. After a little wrestling, but not too much, she pulled them free. It seemed old Ted had maintained the shed right up until his declining physical health had made it impossible. It must have driven him crazy to not be able to do all the things he used to. She flung both doors wide to let the light flood in and stood back.

Gazing into the cavernous space, both girls were silent for several long moments. Then Caroline turned to Della with a grin. “Well then, should we get started?”

Wide eyed, Della looked back at her. “Where the hell do we start? What is all this stuff?”

“God knows.” Caroline squinted at the piles of chaos. “Carpentry tools, at a guess. And, er, decorating stuff, and… just stuff. Normal shed stuff, see? Nothing dead or decaying in sight. It’s just a little bit dusty and very untidy. Looks like he was a hoarder. We may as well do what we did with the rest of the house—empty everything out and sort through it as we go. Figure out what we want to keep—if anything—what needs throwing away, and what we might be able to sell.”

“Not sure we’ll get much interest in ‘thingymajigs’ on eBay.” She pointed at a metal contraption with a circular blade. “I mean, what the f**k is that thing?”

Caroline stuck her tongue out at Della and stepped into the shed. “Don’t be so defeatist. Come on! The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish.”

Reluctantly, Della joined her girlfriend. “Okay, let’s get going.”

An hour and a half later, they stopped for a tea break. “f*****g hell,” Caroline said, blowing on the surface of her tea, then taking a sip as she surveyed the three piles—keep, sell, dump—they’d created. “There seems to be a ton of stuff out here, and yet looking in there,” she jerked her head towards the shed, “it looks as though we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“It’s like the f*****g TARDIS in there, isn’t it?” Della replied, shoving at a plastic paint tray with the toe of her shoe.

“Hmm…” Caroline regarded the insanity, then gave a wry smile. “But it’ll be worth it in the end, though. The shed itself seems sturdy enough, so we’ll have plenty of storage space for any tools we keep, plus any gardening paraphernalia we buy…” She tailed off, letting her words sink in. Given they’d only ever rented flats, gardening hadn’t been high on the agenda, and Della had often lamented the lack of having a green space of their own.

Narrowing her eyes, Della took a couple of gulps of her drink. “Yeah… I suppose you’re right. We’ll need a lawnmower, and a strimmer, a spade, a hoe—”

“We’ve already got a ‘ho’,” Caroline quipped, wiggling her eyebrows theatrically and pointing at Della.

“Hey,” Della exclaimed, punching Caroline playfully on the arm. “b***h. That’s not very nice.”

Chuckling, Caroline shrugged. “What can I say? I’m not very nice.”

“True.”

Smirking at each other over the rims of their mugs, the pair finished their drinks in silence.

“Done?” Della asked, holding out her hand. “I’ll stick these in the kitchen.”

Caroline passed her empty mug to Della. “Thanks. Right, I’m going back in…”

Picking her way across the clear part of the floor, Caroline looked around, wondering what she should tackle next. Just then, she spotted a wooden stool with a coil of rope sitting on top of it.

All thoughts of clearing out the shed flew from her mind as a grin crept onto her face. She had a much better idea.

She grabbed the stool and put it in the middle of the floor, then hurriedly cast about for some other props before Della came back. Now it was her turn to have her imagination run away with her.

She’d added just three more items to her cache when she heard Della approaching. After shoving them behind a conveniently-placed bucket, she waited, her heart pounding with anticipation. Her p***y began to moisten as she considered the possibilities. “Hello, gorgeous,” she said brightly, as her girl appeared in the doorway.

“Er… hello,” Della replied, a small frown line appearing between her eyebrows as she stepped inside the shed. “What… are you doing?”

“I’ve decided to add a little more excitement to this dull task. Please, take a seat.” She indicated the stool, now free of rope—it was secreted behind the bucket with her other impromptu ‘toys’.

Seemingly frozen with indecision, Della didn’t move, didn’t speak.

“Della,” Caroline said sharply, pointing at the stool. “Now.”

Della jumped a little, then nodded. “Y-yes, Mistress.” She moved over and gingerly lowered herself onto the seat, as if unsure whether it was sturdy enough to hold her weight, slight as it was.

“Good girl,” Caroline purred. “Now… do you trust me, sweetheart?”

The response came without hesitation. “Yes. Always.”

“Excellent. Close your eyes.”

Della did as commanded, and, like usual, the thrill of being obeyed sent a rush of lust to Caroline’s groin. She moistened further, and her clit began to throb. She forced herself to ignore it for now, though. It would be a while before she’d have chance to get off… she had plans, dirty, sexy plans for her beautiful girlfriend first.

She retrieved one of the hidden items. Folding the cloth—which was clean, for saying it lived in a shed—a couple of times, she made it into a makeshift blindfold. Then, after draping it over Della’s eyes, she secured it at the back of her head, being careful not to trap any of her luscious black curls in the knot. “That all right?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good. Now, take off your top and bra, and hold them out so I can put them away for you.”

Once again, Della acquiesced, and Caroline thoroughly enjoyed the sight of her rapidly disrobing girlfriend, the soft, smooth flesh being revealed.

Caroline took the proffered items and placed them on one of the shelves they’d cleared, out of the way. Then she grabbed her next prop. She moved—somewhat awkwardly in the limited space—around to Della’s front, and admired the view for a few seconds. The small, pert breasts with their neat, sensitive n*****s… delicious.

She reached out with her right hand and lightly swept the paintbrush grasped in her fist over Della’s left n****e. So lightly Della was probably unsure it had even happened.

Clearly, she knew something had happened, as she snatched in a hasty breath, but remained otherwise silent.

Grinning wickedly, Caroline repeated the action on the other n****e. A barely-there brush of the bristles which caused Della to gasp. Both her buds were now erect, standing out eagerly from the caramel-coloured flesh of her t**s. Unable to resist, Caroline brushed each one in turn, harder this time. She was sure Della would have guessed the identity of the mystery object, so, instead of teasing, she continued right along to titillating. Getting into a rhythm, she moved the brush around and over Della’s n*****s, sometimes hard, sometimes with very little pressure. Always keeping her guessing—never knowing which n****e would be touched next, or how, or for what length of time.

Della was clearly getting very aroused—and her stiffened n*****s weren’t the only giveaway. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and a beautiful flush of colour decorated her cheeks and chest.

Caroline kept at it for several minutes more, thoroughly enjoying the response she was eliciting. Then she put down the brush, and picked up two wooden clothes pegs. She quickly attached them to Della’s still-erect n*****s, biting back a chuckle as Della yelped at the sudden pain.

“You’ve always got your safe word, sweetheart,” Caroline reminded her.

“N-no,” Della forced out through laboured breaths. “That won’t be necessary, Mistress, thank you.”

“All right.” She shrugged, despite knowing Della couldn’t see her. She collected the length of rope and placed it by Della’s feet. “Della, darling. Do stand up and take off the rest of your clothes.”

“But I-I can’t see.”

“You’ll manage.” She stood back and watched as Della fumbled about, removing her baggy tracksuit bottoms—which she wore only for these sorts of tasks, and were loose enough that she could pull them off over her trainers—followed by her underwear. “Now sit back down. The stool is fine, I checked it before you even sat on it the first time.”

Biting her bottom lip nervously, Della lowered her naked arse to the stool, then sat silently, awaiting Caroline’s next move. She had only one more decided—after that, she’d be winging it. Hopefully her surroundings would provide further inspiration before long.

“Excellent,” she said, grabbing the rope and quickly straightening it out. “You are so very beautiful, you know.”

“Thank you, Mistress. You are, too.”

“Wrists together, darling. You know the drill.”

Della acquiesced without quibble, and Caroline quickly bound her hands with the rough cord. After ensuring it wasn’t too tight, she tweaked each of the clothes pegs—still hanging from Della’s n*****s—smiled at Della’s gasped response, then cast about for more toys to play with.

Her gaze alighted on something. No, that’s too much. Or was it? Frowning, she grabbed the item, then, completely on impulse, also picked up the one next to it. They’d certainly provide variety, anyway…

Moving back in front of Della, Caroline said, “Open your legs, sweetheart. Let me see you.”

Once Della’s luscious thighs were spread, Caroline knelt between them, feasting her eyes on her cunt. Her lower lips splayed, Della’s arousal was plain to see—swollen labia and clit, juices glistening on the soft skin of her folds and seeping from her entrance.

Caroline licked her lips, but refrained from leaning forward to press them to Della’s succulent p***y. For now, anyway. Instead, she held up the item in her right hand and inspected it—ensuring it was safe for purpose. The metal scraper had no damage, no edges that could cut or scratch—not with the way Caroline intended to use it, in any case. She guided it to the sensitive skin of Della’s inner thigh, right up by her crotch, then pressed the flat edge of the cold metal against her skin and dragged it slowly along to her knee.

Apparently unsure of exactly what was happening, Della’s reactions were mixed. Gasps, grunts and groans issued from her lips, and Caroline could tell she was battling to remain still on her seat, to not flinch away from the touch of the unknown prop.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t hurt you. Not in the bad way, anyway…” She chuckled, then ran the scraper down the inside of Della’s other thigh. f**k removing wallpaper with the damn thing, I could do this all bloody day. The sound of metal on skin was weird, foreign, and she was sure the physical sensation on Della’s flesh was, too.

Caroline decided to throw her other item into the mix. She put the scraper down, then picked up the bright yellow sponge that had been sitting next to it. Like the makeshift blindfold, it was surprisingly clean, and she tickled it over the same spot she’d just teased with the scraper.

Della gasped again, then giggled.

Biting back a laugh of her own, she began ‘washing’ Della’s inner thighs with the dry sponge. Light, ticklish strokes that increased Della’s giggles, followed by harder scrubs that made her groan, and her p***y trickle juices down across her perineum and onto the wood beneath her bare arse.

After a few more minutes, she swapped the sponge for the scraper again, and teased Della until her giggles subsided and she begged for mercy. “Please, Mistress. Please, make me come.”

Caroline’s response was a careful slap with the flat surface of the scraper. The sound was satisfying, so she did it again on the other thigh, admiring the odd wedge-shaped mark it left behind. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk any more, it was a f*****g DIY tool, after all, so she discarded it. After soothing the s*****d spots briefly with the sponge, she ditched that, too, then made her next moves with such rapidity that Della’s brain couldn’t possibly have a hope of keeping up.

She yanked off the clothes pegs and tossed them, not caring where they landed. Then she simultaneously fastened her lips around the closest n****e, pinched the other, and buried two fingers from her other hand deep inside Della’s soaking, red-hot snatch.

Della, having been taunted and turned on for so long with no hope of release, was powerless to resist. And why the hell would she want to? With three erogenous zones being stimulated at once, c****x ripped through her at an astonishing rate. She let out a squeal of surprise, bucking her hips against Caroline’s hand even as her p***y clenched around the fingers inside it.

Releasing Della’s t**s, but keeping her hand between her legs, Caroline shifted back so she could enjoy the sight of o****m wracking her girl’s body. And enjoy it she did. She missed seeing Della’s beautiful expressive eyes, hidden as they were behind the cloth, but she happily drank in everything else; the still-flushed skin, even redder than before, the angry-looking n*****s, the undulating stomach, the quaking thighs… it was perfection.

As Della’s c****x began to wane, Caroline removed her fingers from her p***y and sucked them noisily into her mouth—deliberately noisily, so Della would know exactly what she was doing—before licking off all the sweet juices. Satisfied, she stood, flipped off Della’s makeshift blindfold, and said, “Guess cleaning out the shed isn’t so dull after all, huh? I’m beginning to think we should do it at least once a month.”

Della’s dazed and confused expression soon morphed into a self-satisfied, satiated one. Glancing down at her tortured thighs, then back at her girl, she said with a smirk, “Or maybe even once a week.”