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Current story  

icecubeheaven 43M
9 posts
8/11/2017 9:52 am
Current story


Just have to say thank-you to FeatherWatt for the latest story I found, its so good I just had to share it with you all...

Mittens
byFeatherWatt

Samantha leaned forward and spat, a sticky white string dangling briefly from her mouth before breaking.

Humiliation, she thought, her mouth full once again, her breasts swaying with the vigorous back-and-forth motion of her right hand.

Lost in thought, she'd been brushing her teeth for a full six minutes.

No, not just humiliation, degradation, she reflected. Nina doesn't just want to feel embarrassed, she wants to feel less than human. She wants to feel like an animal. Absent-minded, she rinsed for the third time. How did we even get into that conversation?

Oh, yeah, that's right. She remembered the purple-gray froth in the sink. Red wine. Lots of it.

Samantha spat, again, and grinned in the mirror. A bespectacled, bed-headed brunette, with the world's cleanest teeth and a tendency to overthink things - especially interesting rabbitholes like this one.

For a moment she wondered what she'd look like, all dressed up in leather and holding a whip - no, a riding crop. No. No, a boxing glove, big and red and shiny and exaggerated, like in a cartoon...

...or not. Sexy, Samantha, think sexy. Not functional.

But why not both? You wear boxing gloves so that you can beat each other up without doing too much damage. Why aren't boxing gloves sexy?

She lifted the lid, slid down her underwear and sat down. And so now you get an intriguing, sexy idea, and give it a turn for the ridiculous - something you've been trying to avoid. Also, why are you even ruminating on this in the first place? What are you going to do, go up to Nina and say "Hey, have you ever thought about getting a pair of big red boxing gloves and just letting someone beat you up with them?" What's the expression, backseat quarterback?

Break it down, Sam. Why boxing gloves? I imagine more along the lines of whips and gags and stuff when I hear "Bondage" or "Erotic humiliation," why am I thinking about boxing gloves?

Samantha always found the sound of running water conducive to any sort of contemplation. Pee works too, albeit for very brief sessions. She sat and followed the thought back towards its hidden origin, brow furrowed, chin resting on her upturned fist.

An observer would have noted the resemblance to Rodin's famous sculpture "The Thinker," except, you know, on a toilet.

Boxing gloves.

Boxing.

Punching.

Impact.

Shock wave.

The path of the shockwave from a downward-angled impact over the solar plexus. The sensation of air being forced out of your lungs, so similar to laughter that it makes you smile out of pure reflex. The shockwave rushing downwards, through your insides, your tummy, your crotch, your thighs, you don't feel it so much in your calves - but then rebounding through your feet from the floor and rushing upwards, angling strangely and dissipating, losing cohesion. The sensation of a phantom force rushing up your inner thighs, a strike now turned to a caress, maybe the slightest ghost whispering underneath your vagina, then it's gone, faded to nothing. And then you're standing there, still alive, stunned but surprised to feel fairly unhurt, knowing that you absorbed that much force, that much of an impact, without even falling over. Knowing that you're a red-blooded animal with a skeleto-muscular structure evolved to spread out incoming blows.

Knowing that you're an animal. Knowing it for sure, without a shadow of a doubt. Knowing it in your bones. Being aware of it, for that moment.

Wipe, flush. Is that sexy? I can't even tell. Is spanking sexy? Or is it just something that they put in porno films so that you can tell if your audio is properly synced up? Like a clapboard, only made out of<b> butts.

</font></b>Samantha stood up, pulling up her underwear. And I didn't answer my own question. Never mind the boxing gloves; what's the deal with this train of thought? She headed back to the bedroom, to dress for the day.

Is this a purely intellectual exercise? Purely hypothetical? Purely rhetorical? Why analyze it so much, then, if nothing will ever come of my analyses?

"Because I love her, of course," she muttered, and paused for a moment in dressing, the realization sinking in.

Huh. Of course. Silly of me not to notice. I love Nina - platonically, but very deeply, and for a long time. She opened up to me about her problems in her love life. Her happiness is essential to my own, so now I'm thinking about ways to make her happy.

Samantha frowned. But am I even capable of that? Could I, Sam, do that sort of thing with Nina? Could I make her happy?

Could I...

Samantha stared into the wood of her dresser, seeing nothing, testing waters with an image of Nina, her freckles, her smile, her lips, parting. Eyes gently closing, Samantha pressed her mind's lips to Nina's.

Detail. Detail, to be sure.

The pores of Nina's skin. Her eyelashes. Her lips. Soft lips, slipping tenderly, shy, curious, between Samantha's.

Samantha breathed, deeply, and questioned herself.

Yes, came the reply. She smiled, feeling the beginnings of joy bloom in her, spreading out from her stomach like warm, slow sunlight. "Yes," she whispered, "yes, I could kiss Nina. And I can't believe I didn't think of it before!"

Samantha pulled her jeans up the rest of the way before realizing they were on backwards.

***

Nina growled, cords standing out on her neck, pajamas damp with sweat. In her mind's eye, Samantha held Nina's hair tightly in one hand, grinding her cunt into Nina's face - her labia enveloping Nina's nose, leaving slick trails between her eyes and over her lips. In Nina's fantasy, Samantha gripped her hair with both hands and used her, like Nina used the Special Toy right now.

As they usually did, Nina's fantasies had started so innocently - imagining Samantha's eyes closing and moving forwards, their lips touching in a close, tender, nervous first kiss. In the buildup to her first orgasm, Nina disrobed Samantha, kissed her, held her, touched her, made love with her - now, as she approached her second, things were different. Her imagination jumped in brutal, incoherent cuts from scene to lustful scene, deepening and intensifying.

Nina on hands and knees, butt in the air, naked save for her collar and leash, cleaning Samantha's toilet while Samantha smokes and reads a magazine, her feet propped up on Nina's back.

Nina's legs spread wide by a steel bar, Samantha's eyes on her exposed genitals, while her fingers push knuckle-deep into Nina's ass.

Nina bent over Samantha's knee, bare-bottomed and squirming in a public park, receiving a sound spanking while strangers watch, her cheeks tanned red.

Nina holding Samantha's hand, a little drunk, telling her... telling her about...

Telling her about wanting to be tied up... Telling Samantha about her cuffs and collars... Telling Samantha about the gags and the paddles and the chains and the files and...

Telling Samantha everything except how wet she was getting telling Samantha everything...

Telling Samantha...

...!

Nina's back arched, her teeth clenched together, her thighs squeezing tight, the shockwaves flowing. After a few months, she collapsed back to the bed with a little shudder, a little squeak, and remembered to breathe again.

In her afterglow, the fantasies turned to a replay of last night.

Samantha's eyes, enlarged by her glasses, watching Nina talk about the reinforced bolts in her rafters and walls, the little fasteners that hooked under her bed.

Samantha's lips, grinning in something between embarrassment and curiosity, not realizing how inviting they looked.

Samantha's oblivious nature, no doubt already thinking up some new contraption to help, purely as an intellectual exercise...

She'd do that, thought Nina. She'd show up with some fancy pneumatic rack or some amazing computer-controlled fucking machine, and then she'd say "Well, have fun!" and leave me to it. She'd go home, sit on her sofa, pet her cats and think "Mission accomplished!"

And I saw her pondering it, even as I was telling her. I saw those cogs beginning to spin behind her eyes; she was already having some idea. And I wanted to say, "Yes, that's very nice, I know that you're conjuring up some wonderful theoretical thingamajig, but Samantha, would you fuck me now, please?"

I sat there, panties soaked through and clinging to me, cheeks red as traffic lights and nipples that you could hang your coat on, and I told Samantha about my humiliation kink. And she sat there and thought "How fascinating! I, a human, was not aware that humans engaged in such behavior! I must consider how can I help my human friend, who I love as a human, using the twin marvels of science and technology!"

Nina sighed, but not unhappily. Her flirty conversations with an oblivious Samantha were par for the course these days - far more endearing than frustrating.

Still a little frustrating, though.

Nina dialled down the Special Toy until it faded out, leaving her feeling a little numb and tingly but still comfortably full.

And what makes the Special Toy so very Special? Samantha, of course. One throwaway remark about sex toys being so damned inconsistent and unreliable, and she sits there and sips her coffee and thinks about it for a minute, and then she comes out with all this talk about pulse width modulation and variable resistors. Next thing I know, we're at my place, to pick up my broken toys, and then we're at Radio Shack, Samantha bounding around in the drawers of Incomprehensible Doodads like a in a candy store, and then we're in her...

Nina grinned. Her laboratory. Meaning her kitchen table, piled high with the odd things she plays with - smelling of coffee and cookies and cats, and incense and solder and those weird Chinese batteries she goes on about.

For an hour, I watched her concentrate. Saw her little frowns. Heard her little tuts, pulling out inferior components, replacing them with special things from her parts boxes.

I made us coffee, petted her cats, and offered the occasional bit of small talk. She responded, sometimes trailing off mid-sentence as she concentrated on the innards of one of my most intimate items. From time to time I'd ask her what she was doing, and she'd look up, her eyes bright behind her glasses, and she'd explain it to me with an excited tone and a big, silly grin. I followed as best I could, and I think I did quite well, considering. I understood about eighty per cent of what she told me.

I pretended to be interested in what she was doing to my toy. I pretended to watch her hands, examine her tools, ask her what she was doing because I was interested in the mechanics.

But most of the time, I was watching her face. Watching her eyes scan this thing that had been inside of me. Watching her fingertips carefully turn it around, find its joints, open it up - not knowing whether or not it even occurred to her that she was handling something very intimate. I asked her things so that she would talk to me, in that tone of excited, mad-science exuberance. So that she would look at me with those big hazel eyes, while her delicate, careful hands touched something deeply personal.

And I watched it change. My ratty old rabbit became something that was as much Sam's as it was mine - with little wisps of solder smoke it grew new knobs, and switches, and this big battery pack...

I barely registered that she was putting it back together. Her sleeves were rolled up, showing the little light hairs on her forearms, the paleness of her wrists. It took a lot of self-restraint not to just reach out and caress her, saying "Oh, don't mind me, I just wanted to know if your skin was as soft as it looked."

The time came, Samantha said, to take my new-and-improved rabbit for a test run. She grinned, and we were silent for a moment - a very tense moment. For me, at least.

In my imagination, she looked at me with narrowed eyes and a lusty smile, and told me - no, commanded me - to take off my jeans and my underwear.

In reality, she activated it right where it sat - and we laughed as it vibrated itself right off the table, jumping around like its namesake.

Two women in a kitchen that smelled of solder, laughing in the sun, on a cold March morning - both of them happy and content, one of them extremely turned on. One of my happier memories, and it was only a few months ago. The rabbit, of course, hasn't missed a beat since then.

With a sigh, Nina pulled back slowly on the Special Toy, felt it begin to move out of her, leaving behind a yearning, empty feeling.

The next week, buying a new cellphone, realizing with wonder and horror that I am now intensely turned on by the smell of Radio Shack. The salesman asked me if I was friends with the tall lady, brunette, wears glasses, always friendly, always heads straight to the hardcore stuff in the back, I think I saw you two come in together last weekend, Samantha, that's her name. Yeah, Samantha's cool.

I bet he wondered why I was blushing. Thanks, Sam. As if my kinks weren't weird enough already.

Nina's inner labia slid wetly together as the head of the Special Toy left her empty. She turned the warm, wet shaft over in her hands, looking at the motors that were vaguely visible through its pink translucence. Her fluid streaked the toy in little random waves of clear to pale white. Was the toy made less beautiful by her glistening overcoat, or more? Did she spoil this work of art, or collaborate on it? She could never decide.

The whole time we sat at that kitchen table, Samantha never said anything like "Yeah, I tried this on one of my toys once." She was doing this just to see if she could. I don't know if she even owns any toys herself - if she just thinks of sex and orgasms as things that happen to other people.

Nina brought the toy close - as she always did, before and after - and breathed.

And it smells like her. Even when it smells so much like me, it smells like her. It smells of her hand lotion, and her kitchen table, with its odd scents of overheating electronics. She's touched it, and given it something of herself. Given me something of herself.

She reached into the drawer of her bedside table, for her toy-cleaning wipes.

She probably thought I was going to take it home, put it on the mantle and appreciate its engineering.

***

Right. Sex! Here we go!

Samantha's fingers rested on the keys. They tapped once or twice, not hard enough to trigger a contact, the search bar empty.

Here we go.

She bit her lip. She frowned.

Any minute now.

Samantha sat and thought for a second. Then she grinned, and her fingers flew.

"Sex boxing" appeared in the search bar, and a page of very unusual links presented themselves to Samantha.

A few minutes of scrolling, reading stories and looking at pictures, opening and closing tabs, while her right hand drifted absently down to her lap and began to stroke - rhythmic, comforting, warm, a little distracting.

Samantha sat back in her chair. "Well, that wasn't very useful at all, was it, Higgs?" Higgs looked up from her lap, purring.

"You really don't give a shit, do you, Higgs?"

Higgs did not give a shit. He looked at Samantha, blinking in that slow, lazy way that only cats can get away with, as she petted him.

"You don't care one tittle about sex boxing, because you're an animal. You just want me to stroke your head."

Higgs, indeed, just wanted Samantha to stroke his head. Something about that sparked a neuron somewhere, but where that led, Samantha didn't know. She followed the thought.

"Because you're just an animal. A cat."

Higgs was an animal. He was, on some vague feline level, dimly aware that he was a cat.

"An animal," she said again, quietly, trying to jump-start the ideation process.

Higgs blinked at Samantha. To a cat lover, his expression would have said "Why have you stopped touching my head?" To Samantha, obviously his expression said "Yes, I suppose I am an animal. Where are you going with this?" To any other outside observer, his expression said, quite clearly, "I am a cat."

She let the thought go, aware that it would come back and tug on her sleeve when it was good and ready. Instead, she turned her attention elsewhere.

Why am I still fixated on the whole boxing-gloves thing?

She contemplated for a moment. "Boxing gloves" appeared in the search bar, and Samantha tabbed over to the "Images" link.

Page after page of pictures of boxing gloves.

Well, yes. What else did I expect?

She rested her chin on her hand, and frowned.

There's something in particular about boxing gloves. Something that sets them apart from other things like them.

So what are the characteristics of a boxing glove?

It's something that you put on to do a specific thing. It's clothing, that lets you accomplish a certain...

Her eyes widened. She leaned forward in her chair.

It's an article of clothing that you put on to do a certain rough, animalistic thing, that prevents you from doing other things! That's why it's different - it makes your thumb useless! It focuses you entirely on the one thing that you're doing, reducing you - or maybe elevating you - to a perfectly-tuned tool for doing that one very specific thing!

If the subject is unskilled at that given thing, I bet I could turn that very easily into a feeling of degradation. For those purposes, all you'd have to do is duct-tape the thumb so it couldn't move. Hell, you could probably do it with an oven mitt.

Samantha sat and thought for a moment. Our thumbs are one of the very big, very fundamental things that set us apart from animals. To thoroughly degrade someone, take away those differences. You want someone to feel like a lower creature, make their thumbs useless. Language is right up there on the list too, so arrange things so that the subject can't talk. Or can only talk when spoken to, if I'm feeling generous.

Samantha smiled. I'm having good ideas. But I need some context to put them in.

CTRL-Tab over to her email. Apprehensive, tummy full of warmth and light, Samantha pressed a single key and Nina's email address autocompleted immediately - as though the machine were saying "Well, who the hell else would you email right now?"

Tab down to the composition box. Samantha's fingers did all the thinking for her. Halfway through, she realized she was blushing, a pleasant aching below her bellybutton.

She shifted her thighs. Higgs complained, then jumped off.

"Go on, Higgs. Sam-time, now. Go play with Boson."

Higgs stalked off, grumbling.

Her cursor hovered over the "Send" button. She read the message through one more time, took a deep breath, and hesitated.

Detail. Check the detail. How sure am I, that this is something I actually want to do?

Nina's breath, hot and wet, in her ear. Samantha's teeth, applying gentle pressure to Nina's neck. Samantha's hands, running down Nina's back, finding her curves, feeling her warmth, lower, lower, one soft buttock in either hand, squeeze- click.

Breathing hard, Samantha sat back in her chair, squeezing her thighs together and squirming.

"Platonic" my ass.

***

Nina pressed the Power button on her laptop, then headed into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. The task accomplished, she came back to the couch, closed all the popup windows, dismissed the nagging update thingies, waited a few minutes as the little light on the front flashed at her and the computer made its pointless grinding sounds, then double-clicked on the Internet icon. Then she got up to pour and adulterate her coffee, as the machine lurched into a waking state and started re-downloading all forty-seven tabs.

She took the opportunity to clean up the kitchen a little, so by the time she came back the machine had woken up to the point where it took less than a minute to register her click on the tab that contained her email.

A message from Samantha - subject, "Can we talk about this?"

Ominous.

Ignoring her other email, Nina clicked the message from Samantha. As the little orange light flashed and the laptop made its silly grinding sounds, she had enough time to be worried.

Did I offend her? Oh God, did I say too much, and frighten her? Nina tried to distract herself by closing some of the popup windows that had since opened themselves. It did little to take her mind off the situation. She seemed interested, but we were drunk - I always think people are interested in what I have to say when I'm drunk. Oh, God...

Finally the page loaded, and Nina read Samantha's message.

***

Hey, Nina!

So this is a little embarrassing, but I've been thinking a lot about the things you said last night. I'm really fascinated by it all!

Does this sort of thing come with documentation? Is there a newbie's guide to erotic humiliation? Do you have any links you can send to me?

Thanks!

***

Nina stared at the message.

What?

She stared some more.

Of course I've got links. I've got blogs open in these tabs. I've got negotiation forms actually printed out! I've got so much material you'll be reading all day.

Why do you want it? Do you want to study me or proposition me?

And am I only considering this because I'm still all happy and damp from this morning?

Nina looked to her list of online friends. The little icon next to Samantha's name was green.

I could ask her right now. I could go on chat and talk with her.

Nina opened a chat window, put her mouse in the box, clicked, and typed "Hey, Samantha!"

She hesitated, her finger over the Enter key. She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and pressed it.

***

Samantha moaned softly, hearing the blood in her ears, her right hand nestled in the warm, damp pocket of her panties, her left hand stroking her nipple, her mind full of naughty thoughts. Thoughts of Nina, lying on the bed - naked and smiling, freckled pale skin all soft and inviting, contrasted with the delightfully ridiculous bright-red cartoon boxing gloves. Trying to beckon Sam, but her fingers don't work - "Oh dear, whatever shall I do, I want to be sexy yet these boxing gloves are so silly, this is a delicious paradox that you have put me in." Sam shivered, imagining Nina biting at the straps.

Detail, to be sure - and to have fun - scan her, her shiny red hair, her gorgeous green eyes, her smiling lips, that bit at the front of her neck that goes all inny-ridgey, her soft-looking breasts, her nipples all pointy and ding...

Ding?

Samantha opened her eyes. A chat window had appeared, with Nina's name in it.

"Oh," said Samantha, and "Shit, hang on..." She grabbed her desk with her left hand, pulling her chair closer so that she could reach the mouse with her other hand, her other hand which was all - "Oh, fuck, no, oh shit." She stood up, stumbled, pulled up her jeans and left.

The notification window blinked at the empty room. Higgs peeked his head in, mewling.

Samantha entered, red-cheeked, wiping down the fingers of her right hand and carrying a box of tissues under her arm. "Out," she said to Higgs, who ignored her. She picked up her mouse and ran the tissue around it, soaking up the worst of her mistake, hoping that none of it would get into the internals.

I wonder just how conductive my fluids are? Must find out someday. Write a blog post: Fun times with an Ohmmeter, sex toys for nerds.

She set the mouse back down again, sat down heavily in the chair, dropped the damp tissue to the floor, told Higgs to once again leave this place, was ignored, took a deep breath, said "Yes, right. Hello," and began to type.

Nina: Hey, Samantha!

Samantha: Hi!

Samantha took a few deep breaths while Nina pecked out her reply. I wasn't expecting this. I was supposed to do this by email. Email, where you've got time to think about what you want to say, and it's nice and easy to catch yourself before you say something silly.

Nina: So you want to know about my kinkier side, huh?

Samantha smiled. Yes. Yes, I do.

Samantha: Yes, yes I do.

There, that's suitably noncommittal. Play it cool, Sam, keep your escape hatch open. You're on dangerous ground, here - you've known Nina for, what, ten years now? It's a lovely friendship at stake. Be careful. Also use lots of smilies, she likes those.

The indicator said that Nina was typing. Then, it said "Nina has entered text," meaning that her chat box had text in it but that she was no longer adding text to it.

The indicator stayed in that status, for a long time. So long that Samantha's heart started to race.

Nina's sat there with the message in the chat box, going back and forth between sending it and erasing it. You'd think that excitement and fear would cancel each other out, not build each other up.

Careful, Samantha, careful - don't get your hopes up too high, and don't weird her out, whatever you do. Stay cool. Talk so that she doesn't know whether you just want to learn, or whether you want to do naughty things to her.

Nina: Do you want to learn from the internet, or were you thinking of doing naughty things to poor little Nina?

Fuck.

Samantha stared.

...fuck.

She started to type. Honesty. Flirtiness. I can do that, right? Gonna be honest and intimate, but still leaving the escape hatch a little bit open...

Samantha: Be careful asking me things like that right now! You caught me at an... inopportune moment.

Her finger rested on the Enter key.

Right now, Nina is seeing me having entered text, assuming her wreck of a computer has caught up that far. She's in that same torture as I was a moment ago.

Samantha closed her eyes, breathed in for a count of four, breathed out for a count of four, looked at the window.

Don't keep her there too long, Sam. You know that predicament. You love her, don't do that to her. Make your mind up.

The status indicator flickered - Nina had begun to type.

No. She thinks she's shocked me. She's going to say "Just joking," or "Wait! I didn't mean that," or "Oh God I haven't offended you have I?" and she'll feel awful and embarrassed, stop her, cut her off, release her from this torture...

Samantha struck the Enter key, a little harder than she had to.

This delicious torture...

Immediately the indicator went blank, stayed there for a second, and came back with "Nina is typing..."

Samantha sat and waited.

Nina: You mean, I caught you while you were, uh...

Nina: Um...

Samantha grinned.

Samantha: Um.

Nina: Um?

Samantha: Just about to um.

Nina: lol

She's lol'ing! I love it when I make her lol.

Samantha: You made me get my mouse all sticky!

And she's still typing. Probably chuckling away. I love her chuckles.

Samantha frowned. Wait, was that too much information? Am I being creepy? I mean, saying I was masturbating, all right, that's one thing, but... actually, no, that's super-duper extra-special creepy, isn't it, fuck. And then I told her all about getting my squelchiness everywhere. She's lol'ing nervously, about to say "Well I'll leave you to it, then," and close the window and lock the door and then take the sort of shower where you spend most of the time huddled up and rocking on your ankles in a corner and then she's gonna pack up and move to another city...

Something rustled quietly by her feet. She looked down, to see Higgs sniffing at the tissue by her chair. Her eyes widened.

"Fuck off, Higgs, you little pervert!"

Higgs bolted. Samantha reached down to pick up the tissue, placed it carefully in the bin, and returned her eyes to the screen.

Nina: Thinking of anyone I know?

Oh God.

Samantha stared.

What the hell do those winky smilies even mean? Who winks at people mid-conversation? Who does that?

She typed out "You, you big tease," erased it, typed "Oh, a certain someone," erased it, then noticed that Nina was still typing.

Good thing Nina hunts and pecks. She'll be looking at her hands, not the typing indicator. She won't have seen me cyber-stammering.

Nina: I had an enjoyable um myself this morning.

Nina: Gotta thank you again for the extra volts.

Samantha: Watts.

GOD DAMN IT FINGERS WHY DID YOU TYPE THAT. Damn things responding for me before I have a chance to even...

...she masturbates with the toy I fixed for her.

She puts it inside herself.

...goodness.

...well, what the hell did I think she was going to do with it?

Nina: Wattever.

Samantha:

Samantha: Well, you know me. Always willing to lend a hand, however I can.

She can just take that however she wants. Noncommittal, escape hatch still open in case of emergencies. Good.

Nina: However you can?

SHIT! NINA, STOP DOING THAT!

Be brave, Samantha. All lamps are green. She wouldn't tease you. She's your best friend. She wouldn't tease you about this sort of thing, unless she figured that you were just joking around, and she probably does think that you're just joking around, and let's face it she damn well would tease you anyway, so fuck it, joke around, why the hell not.

Samantha: However I can.

Nina: You big flirt.

Samantha: Said the pot to the kettle.

Again, the typing indicator switched to "Nina is typing," and then stalled at "Nina has entered text."

Now, here's another wrinkle - does that mean that she's deciding whether or not to send the message, or does it mean that she's been distracted by something, or does it mean she's got her hands down her pants, or does it mean her hard drive's thrashing again?

Nina: You know who I was thinking of, this morning?

Samantha's breath stopped dead mid-inhale.

This is it.

Samantha: No, who?

This is really it.

Samantha sat and stared at the indicator, jammed on "Nina has entered text," feeling the warmth rise up inside her - feeling the ice in her spine, the fire in her cheeks, beginning to suspect that she was right about something wonderful.

This is when I find out that my dreams are coming true.

Nina: My best friend.

Samantha paused.

Samantha: ...you mean me, right?

Nina: ...maybe

Samantha's chair hit the floor. Her glasses bounced on her nose. Samantha's mouse cable ran a swirling ribbon from her upraised hand. Higgs, in the process of creeping back into the room, bolted again.

"YES! Oh hell, yes!"

Nina is typing...

Samantha's fingers flew over the keys.

Samantha: You're not joking, right?

Nina: ...no...

Samantha: Who the hell do you think I was thinking of?

Nina: ...

Nina: ...I'm scared to guess. I don't know what you're feeling right now, Sam. Text sucks.

Samantha: I was thinking about my best friend too.

Nina: ...

Nina:

The two best friends grinned at each other over the Internet on a warm Sunday morning, both aware that the next little while was going to be very, very interesting.

After a few seconds, they remembered to breathe, and to talk.

Samantha: Shall I come over?

Nina: I'll come to you. I like the way your place smells.

Nina: Give me an hour?

Samantha grinned.

Samantha: That's going to be a tense hour. :s

Nina: I bet you can think of something to do.

Nina: I interrupted you, after all...

Samantha stared. Bit her lip. Nina was still typing.

Nina: You can give me a running commentary if you like.

Samantha: You mean... one-handed typing?

Nina: You wanna?

Samantha hesitated. She sat back down.

Samantha: Tell me what to do.

Nina: Tell me what you're doing.

Samantha: Waiting for you to tell me what to do.

Nina: Alright then, put your hand down your pants and then tell me what you're doing.

Samantha, breathing hard and blushing, wriggled her jeans and panties down to her knees.

Samantha: I pulled them down.

Nina: And what treasures did you find?

Samantha: My pussy.

Nina: Yay!

Samantha: I found it!

Nina: Right there in your pants, this whole time!

Samantha: But what should I do with it?

Nina: Say hello.

Samantha: Hello, pussy.

Nina: Shake its hand.

Samantha: It has no hands to shake. :s

Nina: Pet its head, then.

Samantha: ...mmm.

Samantha: still all wet from earlier.

Samantha: from thinking about... you.

Nina: Now you type as slowly as me.

Nina: Maybe I should join in too.

Nina: Or maybe that would be too slow. Maybe I'll just watch and enjoy.

Nina: You still there?

Samantha: thinking about your lips on mine

Nina: Ooh. Tell me about that.

Samantha: feeling your heartbeat

Samantha: touching your neck

Samantha: oh god

Nina: Go lower than my neck.

Samantha: yes

Samantha: thinking of biting your neck

Samantha: and stroking your breast

Nina: Naughty Samantha. Are you touching yourself right now?

Samantha: yes

Nina: What does your pussy feel like?

Samantha: v hot

Samantha: v wet

Samantha: soft and wet and aching for u

Samantha: Now look, you've made me talk in text-speak.

Samantha: And now my keyboard has Sam-goo on it, thanks for that.

Nina: My pleasure. Put your hand back where it was happy.

Samantha: ok

Nina: You don't have to type, just read and make yourself come for me.

Nina: I love you, Samantha.

Nina: And I want you to fuck me.

Nina: God I've wanted to say that to you for years.

Nina: Fuck me, Samantha.

Nina: Please.

Nina: Fuck me.

Samantha: i love you too

Nina: I want to feel your hot breath on my tits, your fingers inside me. I want to squeeze them and let you feel my heartbeat in my pussy. I want you to suck on my nipples, and make me come, and feel me coming around your fingers.

Nina: More than that I want you to kiss me. I want to feel your lips against mine, your tongue in my mouth, forceful.

Nina: More than that, I want you to pull my hair. Could you pull my hair, Samantha? Pull my hair back so my throat's exposed, and bite me while you fuck me?

Samantha: yes

Nina: Would you be rough with me?

Samantha: yes

Nina: Mmm. Would you hurt me, if I asked you politely?

Samantha: yes

Nina: Would you slap me, please? Maybe we can start with a little spank on my butt and work up from there?

Samantha: yes

Nina: Ooh. The thought is getting me very wet. I want you to leave little red marks on me.

Samantha: close already

Nina: Come, then.

Samantha: close

Nina: In an hour I'm going to come to your house and kiss you, Samantha.

Nina: I'll ring the doorbell, and when you answer it, you can wrap your arms around me and kiss me, and I'll kiss you right back.

Nina: And I'll squeeze you close.

Nina: And then I want you to take me into your bedroom and fuck me.

Nina: Fuck me.

Nina: Please, please fuck me.

Samantha:!

Nina: Come for me, Sam.

Samantha: o god

Nina: Come for me.

Samantha:!!!!!

Nina: Nice?

Samantha:!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nina: Yay!

Samantha: still

Nina: Still going?!

Samantha:!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nina: Holy shit!

Nina: ...hello?

Nina: ...you there?

Nina: Did you pass out?

Samantha: I'm here

Nina: Did you enjoy that?

Samantha: chair fell over

Nina: Shit, are you all right?

Nina: Hello?

Nina: You okay, Sam?

Samantha: Just had to find my glasses.

Samantha: Get your luscious little butt over here so I can fuck you like you want me to, Nina.

Nina: Yes, ma'am!

Nina has logged out.

***

Samantha, distracted, sat in her living room and watched television, legs crossed, her left foot jiggling in midair.

After Nina logged out, Samantha had bathed in the joyous afterglow of her first orgasm brought on deliberately by her best friend. She had felt elated, content, and giddily excited. Then, after ten or fifteen seconds of pure, unalloyed joy, a little voice had told her that Nina would be here shortly, and that it was imperative that Samantha now clean the entire house, immediately, at top speed.

She'd showered in a heartbeat, performed the fastest pubic trim she'd ever attempted, struggled into her special-occasion underwear and a nice sweater and pants, and began to feverishly tidy up. Halfway through the tidying process, Samantha had caught herself hyperventilating, and forced herself to stop. Better, she reasoned, that Nina see her house in its usual lived-in state, than see Samantha nervous and frazzled.

So, she had spent a few minutes performing her standard thinking-and-calming ritual: eating toast. And yet, not merely eating toast; eating toast as a meditative practice. A comforting set of motions for her hands and mouth and mind. Two slices in the toaster, one on her plate, one in her mouth, alternating butter and jam and marmalade. The secret was to keep the motions flowing as a perfect assembly-line process timed to the second, so that Samantha's mouth was never empty and her toast was always warm. This careful balancing act demanded just enough of Samantha's attention that it cleared her mind effectively, and she was able to calm down quite satisfactorily.

Then she ran out of bread.

Now she sat, and stared at the television as it told her a story on which she couldn't concentrate, and tried to sell her things that she didn't need or want.

This is a cornflakes commercial. I can't masturbate to this.

Eyes unfocused, she looked through the machine and into herself, and her desires. She saw Nina's cool green eyes, her cute little nose, her pubic hair of unknown color...

Detail. Detail, to be sure, to be certain that I can do this.

What will she taste like, when she kisses me? Will she taste like me? How will her breath smell? How will her breasts feel, in my hands? Could I be naked around her? Will she touch me... down there? Will I let her?

Her fingers, stroking down my tummy, through my pubic hair, finding my labia, touching me in my most intimate places...

...yup, that's hot as hell. Silly question, really.

But it feels so good to ask.

The doorbell. Samantha jumped, startled. She turned off the television, took a deep breath, checked her lips for crumbs, and headed out of the living room and into the hall.

She stood at her front door, knowing that Nina was right there on the other side, warm and solid and real, waiting to kiss her.

The handle felt cold. Samantha swallowed, her mouth dry, her pulse pounding in her ears.

For a moment Samantha had the clearest image of the postman waiting on the other side, delivering a parcel.

She turned the handle.

Nina stood in Samantha's doorway, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, smiling nervously.

"Hel -" Samantha hiccuped, and tried again. "Hello."

"Hello," said Nina.

The two stared at each other, grinning, both red-cheeked, Samantha looking down at Nina, Nina looking up at Samantha.

After seconds that felt like minutes, Samantha realized that they were just grinning at each other, and that perhaps something ought to happen. "Come in," she said, hurriedly.

Nina stepped over Samantha's threshold.

Why does that feel big? Why does that little step feel so significant? She's been in my house hundreds of times. Thousands, maybe.

Samantha closed the door.

Different now, though.

The hallway was narrow. Samantha stood just inches from Nina - she felt almost close enough to feel Nina's body heat.

They looked at each other's eyes, for a long time.

"You're so beautiful," said Nina, quietly.

It's really happening, thought Samantha. She wasn't saying that in a casual way.

"Thank you," said Samantha, so quietly she almost didn't hear herself, her voice breaking.

Then Nina was stepping forward, looping her arm around Samantha's waist, coming close, touching, chest to chest and hip to hip, Samantha's arms knowing what to do without Samantha herself needing to.

The two hugged. Not their typical letter-A, hips-apart hug - this hug was shaped like an I. Samantha noticed, clearly, that Nina's face didn't go against her shoulder like it normally did; Nina stood on tiptoe, her eyes an inch away, her lips even closer.

I must have hugged Nina thousands of times, thought Samantha, and never noticed her curves.

That's because she's not just hugging me. She's pressing herself against me. There's a big difference.

"You're shaking," said Nina, her breath warm and damp on Samantha's lips, smelling of mint - smelling of a Nina who knew that she was about to be kissed by her best friend, and had prepared.

"You too," said Samantha, conscious of her arms full of warm Nina and squeezing, bending her knees a little so that they were roughly eye-level.

"Please kiss me, now, Samantha," whispered Nina, her nose touching Samantha's.

Yes.

"Yes," whispered Samantha, turning to let her nose slip past Nina's, watching Nina's eyes close as her own pupils widened.

I'm about to kiss Nina.

Samantha's lips brushed against Nina's. Their breath stopped, and Samantha became still, as if electrified, for just a moment - then life, breath, movement resumed. Lips slipped gently, tenderly together, warm, wet, quiet. Two bodies, aware of each others' heat, pressed against each other as close as clothing will allow.

I love her, thought Samantha, slowly closing her eyes. I love Nina. I want to know every inch of her, and give her all the pleasure and happiness I know how.

Samantha felt Nina's breath, warm on her top lip. She felt Nina's accelerated heartbeat, through her back. Samantha's fingers found their way into Nina's hair, and across her scalp, and her shoulders, and across her upper back, her mid back and waist, lower... Samantha's hands, just as in her fantasy, found the soft curves of Nina's behind, and gave a gentle squeeze.

Nina sighed happily, and squeezed Samantha, close and tight.

I'm touching Nina's butt, thought Samantha, with something like wonder. And she feels... wonderful.

Her lips are so soft... Should I...?

Samantha parted her lips and, cautiously, slipped her tongue into Nina's mouth. Nina made a tiny noise, like how a moan or a sigh would sound if your mouth was full of someone else's tongue - little vibrations running through Samantha's mouth, a rush of warm breath on her top lip - and ran a hand up into Samantha's hair, gentle pressure on the back of her head.

She really wants me to kiss her. Samantha tightened her grip on Nina's buttocks, then released, sliding upwards. Her left hand found the back of Nina's head, her right hand tightly gripping Nina's left hip, feeling the pockets and belt loops and warm, soft Nina underneath, as Nina's tongue, hot and wet and moving, gently slid against her own.

Samantha opened her eyes, just a fraction, to peek at Nina. Her eyes were closed, and held an expression of joyous relief and disbelief - the same expression Samantha wore now. Samantha's image of Nina shifted slightly as Nina bumped her glasses, moving them around on Samantha's nose. Samantha held Nina tightly, and tasted deeply.

Slowly, as it must, the kiss ended, and Nina opened her eyes.

Hazel looked longingly into green. Green looked longingly back.

"Do you know," whispered Nina, every syllable pronounced close enough for Samantha to feel - the exhalation on her lips, the soft, heaving movement of Nina's chest - "how many hours I've spent, just aching for you to do that to me?"

The words sent a warm thrill up Samantha's spine. "No," breathed Samantha, a little dizzy now, conscious of her own thumping heartbeat - "how many hours?"

"Hundrefph," said Nina, touching her lips to Samantha's, eyes open. They kissed, briefly, sweetly. "Hundreds of hours," said Nina, her face easing to Samantha's left, "thinking about you kissing me." Her breath, hot and damp on the left side of Samantha's neck, ticklish, tingling. "Thinking about you touching me." Her lips, barely touching Samantha's neck, little sensitive kisses upwards, behind Samantha's earlobe.

A whisper, hot and breathy and secret, in Samantha's ear. "Thinking," said Nina, slowly and distinctly, "about you fucking me."

Samantha moaned.

Nina gently closed her lips around Samantha's earlobe, sucked, and let go. "Would you like to fuck me, Samantha?"

"Yes," breathed Samantha.

"Would you like to make love to me?" asked Nina, as Samantha felt a warm hand on her cheek.

"Y-yes," said Samantha, feeling Nina's hair in her fingers as Nina's face came back into view.

And then Nina was grinning, her eyes just slightly narrowed. "Would you like to make love to me," she asked, quietly, and licked Samantha's lips - "and then fuck me?"

"That," said Samantha, and swallowed - "that sounds wonderful." She took a ragged breath. "I love you, Nina."

Nina smiled. "I love you too, Sam."

"And I want to do all those things," said Samantha, her hands sliding down Nina's back. "All those things that make you excited. All the naughty things."

One of Nina's eyebrows raised. "What sort of naughty things?"

Samantha cleared her throat. "Well," she said, her hands at Nina's lower back, "If you'd like me to... slap you, and such, well... I can do that. But..." Samantha looked at Nina's lips. "You might have to be patient with me, because I've never done that before. I want to learn it from you."

"I can teach you." Nina's lips touched Samantha's. "What would you like to do to me?"

Samantha smiled. "Anything you want."

"What do you want to do to me?"

Samantha swallowed. "Um."

Nina stroked Samantha's cheek. "Listen. Sam, I've seen you do your thing, and I know that you think about a hundred things at once, and that's just what you do."

She knows me so well.

And it was true. She knows me so well was just at the forefront of Samantha's remarkable mind - beneath the surface, scores of other tiny trains of thought ran their course. Some were heading nowhere in particular. Others were on track to a realization or an idea that was yet days or weeks in the future. At the present time, nearly all of them concerned Nina - thoughts of boxing gloves, mittens, humiliation, thumbs, engineering, sewing, psychology, biology.

"But this is important," continued Nina. "You know how you can quiet all those little thoughts and just concentrate on one thing? Can you do that for me, now?"

With a practiced mental flex, Samantha brought herself to the immediate present and focused every ounce of power she had on paying attention to Nina. Every other train of thought ran down and stopped, discarded, forgotten.

Samantha took a deep breath, and locked eyes with Nina. She saw Nina watch her, saw the tiny widening of the eyes that told Samantha that Nina had seen her focus and was maybe a little unnerved to see it happen up close.

I hope I don't scare her.

Nina leaned in. "I will never think ill of you for experimenting, or telling me about what makes you excited." She squeezed Samantha. "Never, Sam. If you suggest something, and I'm not all that into it, then I'll most likely give it a go because I know it makes you happy. I'll try nearly anything once. But even if what you say shocks me, Sam, which it won't - but even if it does, I will never, ever laugh at you. And I won't go away and think "What a weirdo," Sam. I love you."

"I love you too, Nina." Samantha grinned. "Doesn't it feel wonderful to say that?"

Nina grinned back. "Yes, it does. I love you, I love you, I love you. And do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

Samantha nodded. "I understand." She kissed Nina on the cheek, relaxing, letting the hundreds of thoughts return to the background of her mind - most of them now having to do with Nina. "And I want to make you come."

Nina gave Samantha a tight squeeze and a happy sigh. "That sounds nice. May I make you come, too?"

Here's your opportunity, Sam. Here's where you let her know how you can make her happy.

Samantha narrowed her eyes, and placed a finger on Nina's lips. "Maybe. But only if you ask me very politely."

Nina smiled. "Would that be okay? If I were to, just..." She shrugged, blushing. "Ask you things? Ask for your permission to do things?"

Samantha grinned. "Yeah. Should I make you beg me, Nina?"

Samantha felt Nina shiver in her arms.

I did that. Just with words, I made her shiver.

"Yes," breathed Nina. "Maybe a little. Shall we leave it at that, for today? Take it slow?"

Samantha leaned into Nina's neck. "I bet there's lots of talking involved," she whispered, her lips close to Nina's skin. "Lots of negotiation and such, talking out each others' limits." She bit Nina, gently, on her neck.

Nina shuddered. "Yes, there is."

Show her, Sam. Show her you can do this. Show yourself that you can do this.

"That sounds like it'll take a lot of time," said Samantha, leaving little kisses up to Nina's ear. "But if you're okay with vanilla," she breathed, sliding her right hand up Nina's side, "maybe with just a few extra sprinkles -" her hand settled on the soft warmth of Nina's left breast - "perhaps a marshmallow or two..." She gripped, gently. "Then I can take you into my bedroom and fuck you right now."

Squeeze.

"Oh, God..." moaned Nina.

"Shall I take you upstairs, Nina?"

"Yes please..."

Samantha grinned, and gripped Nina's wrist, tightly.

***

Samantha's bedroom smelt of incense and fresh laundry. Nina allowed Samantha to pull her in. She looked past Samantha to the bed.

She's going to put me on her bed and fuck me, thought Nina. Just like she said she would. It's actually happening.

Samantha looked at her with narrowed eyes and a grin. Nina watched Samantha reach up to her glasses, take them off, fold them carefully, place them on her dresser, step out of her shoes.

Samantha turned to smile at Nina. "No ropes, no whips, no pain - not until we've had time to talk about it. But for now..." she stepped closer. "Would it make you happy if I say some very impolite things to you?"

Nina grinned, blushing. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

Samantha curled a hand around Nina's waist. "Can I move you around, and maybe restrict your own movements a little bit? Pull your hair, like you said on chat?"

Nina nodded. "A little bit," she said, nervously.

"C'mere," said Samantha, in a low, lusty voice Nina had never heard before - she had no time to reflect on this new sound, because hands gripped her and the world spun and she landed, breathless, on soft sheets.

Samantha stood over her, grinning down.

"Look at what I've caught," she said, quietly, almost a growl.

Nina shivered. Oh God.

"If you want me to dominate you, then that's exactly what I'll do," murmured Samantha, leaning down to Nina's feet. "I'm going to have such fun with you, little Nina." Nina's right shoe left her, and she heard the thump as it hit the floor. "I'm going to learn all about your buttons and switches." Her left foot was tugged on, exposed to the sock, the same little thump. "I'm going to play with them all, and see what happens."

With a ghostly, fleeting rush of cotton on skin, her feet were suddenly bare. "Cute little cotton socks," said Samantha, grinning, the articles in mention dangling from her fingers. "You won't need those." The socks dropped to the floor, and the bed shifted and creaked as Samantha's knee crept onto it.

"Do you realize, little Nina, that you're on my territory?" asked Samantha, her eyes locked on Nina's as she crawled up the bed, her face approaching Nina's thighs. "You didn't know what you were doing, and now you've wandered into my domain like a silly little rabbit." She reached Nina's shivering belly, one arm ahead of the other, creeping, the bed groaning under her muscular weight. "Didn't you notice how this place smells of me? Of something much, much bigger and stronger than you?" She passed Nina's heart, her teeth edging close to Nina's throat. "What on Earth were you thinking? This is my lair. Do you know, little one," she said, and suddenly she was right there, her face a thumbnail away from Nina's, her wet breath hot on Nina's lips, her weight settling in, pressing Nina into the bed - "what happens to silly little rabbits, in this place?"

Nina gasped as Samantha's weight immobilized her, Samantha's nose touching hers. "What will happen to me, ma'am?"

Samantha's left hand moved behind Nina's head, and Samantha gripped Nina's hair in her right. The pillow disappeared and Nina's head hit the mattress, her throat exposed. Samantha leaned down, slowly, tension on Nina's hair, and growled. That was the only word Nina had to describe the sound - the hot, wet, vibrating breath on her vulnerable throat. She shivered, again, and gripped the bed.

"Awful things," whispered Samantha, and licked Nina's throat, from collarbone to chin, along the left side. "Cruelthings," she said, and then another long, wet, sensuous lick up the right side, as Samantha's saliva cooled on her left. Then, before the lick was quite completed, she moved with sudden, frightening speed and her teeth were on either side of Nina's throat, little points of gentle pressure.

Nina's breath stopped.

Samantha breathed, heavily, growling, into Nina's throat. They stayed like that for a moment, then the bite melted into a kiss, the pressure receding, Samantha's tongue gently stroking.

The kiss ended, and Nina realized, as her breathing resumed, that Samantha's hands were pinning her wrists to the bed. When did that happen?

"But mostly," said Samantha, looking into Nina's eyes, "what happens to little rabbits is whatever I damn well please.You are mine, now, to deal with in whatever manner my whims take me. You're helpless, and completely at my mercy." She smiled, a threatening, condescending smile - and Nina felt shockingly at home with being condescended to. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Y-yes, ma'am," squeaked Nina.

"Then repeat it to me, little one, so I'm sure it's sunk in."

Nina swallowed, took a breath. "I'm helpless. You're stronger and faster and cleverer than me and I can't overpower you or outsmart you. No one will come and save me." A warm, insistent glow from beneath her navel. "I'm yours to do with as you wish."

Samantha smiled, her eyes narrowing. "You're amusing. I like that. But it's early in the day, yet. If you're to survive this boring Sunday afternoon, here in my domain, you'll have to remain amusing for quite some time." She knelt up, straddling Nina's hips, her hands gripping Nina's shoulders.

She's going to be good, thought Nina, gazing into Samantha's expression of mild, casual ownership. "What are you going to do to me?" whimpered Nina, overjoyed.

Samantha's expression suddenly changed. "Oh God, I'm sorry -" she stammered. "Did I really scare you? Did - am I doing it wrong?"

"No!" Nina said, "no, you're doing it right! Sam, you're doing it so right, believe me! Was I too convincing?"

Samantha exhaled, her smile slowly returning. "I've got a lot to learn, haven't I?"

Probably time to talk about safe words, thought Nina. Well, this serves me right for thinking that we wouldn't need them so soon. She smiled back. "Samantha, you've got me this hot just from talking to me."

"You know I'm only pretending to be scary, don't you?"

Nina nodded, smiling. "Yes, Sam, and that's exactly what I want. That's perfect. And I'm only pretending to be scared. Well," she added, "mostly, anyway."

Samantha's eyes widened. "Did I really scare you?"

Nina reached up and took gentle hold of Samantha's hips. "A little bit. Good scared, though. Rollercoaster-scared, not dark-alley-scared. That's good, Sam, that's kind of the point. I know in my heart that you'd never deliberately hurt me."

Samantha looked confused for a moment. "But I would, though, Nina. If that's what you wanted. If that's what would make you happy."

Nina shook her head. "Even then, you'd never deliberately hurt me more than I wanted to be hurt. I meant that you'd never hurt me in my heart."

Samantha smiled. "I love you, Nina, and I hope you're right."

Nina smiled back. "I love you too, Sam. I love you so much, and you're going to be so good at this, and I am so turned on right now."

Samantha's smile spread wider. "Good!"

"So here's what we'll do," said Nina. "Your scene, with the scary-Sam, we can continue that, or you can just kiss me and take off all my clothes and make love to me." She grinned. "If we continue, then assume I'm pretending or acting unless I say "Redden," or give you two squeezes like this -" she squeezed Samantha's hips, twice, in rapid succession - "in which case, we stop right there, and talk about what happened and what happens next, okay?"

Samantha nodded, grinning. "Redden or two squeezes and we take a break straight away, gotcha." Then, her expression changed again. "Damn it, I'm already fucking up, aren't I? I held your hands down so you couldn't squeeze me."

"But you didn't cover my mouth. That's why we have the squeezes and the word, so you can cover my mouth or pin me down sometimes, just not both at once." She looked carefully at Samantha. "And Sam, if I'd have said "stop" right then, you'd have stopped." Nina saw Samantha angle her head and begin to think about it. "No, really, Sam, you'd have stopped, safe word or no. You stopped the moment you thought I was frightened."

Samantha nodded. "You're right. I'll try to keep it in mind. So I'm really doing okay?"

Nina grinned. "Sam, you're doing better than okay."

"Do you want scary-Sam, or kissy-Sam?" Nina took a breath - "And before you answer," interrupted Samantha, "I really,honestly just want to do whatever will make you happy." Samantha smiled. "Whatever will make you come." She laughed, joyous, her eyes wrinkling. "God, I want to make you come, Nina."

Nina smiled. "Frighten me, Sam. Tell me what happens to silly rabbits."

Samantha leaned in and kissed Nina, tenderly, on the lips. "I love you so much, Nina."

"I love you too, Sam. And after this, I want to make you happy, okay? I like giving too."

Samantha's nose crinkled up in an almost-laugh. "I love meta-selfishness." Then she pulled back from Nina, and her expression changed - it was like watching a cat suddenly turn malicious. "Now, where were we?"

"What are you going to do to me?" asked Nina. "Are you going to do horrible things to me?"

Samantha grinned, slowly, teeth peeking out, her fingernails sliding down Nina's T-shirt like claws. "I'm going to do whatever I feel like, little Nina. I might not even tell you what I'm going to do to you. But right now, I will, because it might be entertaining to watch your face, knowing what's going to happen. I won't even punish you for asking silly questions."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm going to do to you what I do to all the little wanderers who don't know what they're doing." She took hold of the bottom of Nina's T-shirt. "I'm going to skin you alive, little rabbit, and watch you hop around denuded."

Nina grinned. "No, please, don't!"

Samantha looked up into Nina's eyes, suddenly startled - then her face went through a series of expressions. First, shock and shame - then, confusion. Then, Nina saw the realization blossoming in Samantha's head as clear as day. Her mischievous grin returned. "Does it amuse you, little rabbit, to play Simon Says with me? I know you didn't use your special word, so I'm just going to go ahead and -"

"No! Please, ma'am, don't take my clothes!"

"I'm going to take your clothes, Nina," said Samantha, pushing the T-shirt up and over Nina's head. "And if you really wanted to, you'd say the word, or try to stop me, but you certainly wouldn't be helping me to get that shirt off, like you're doing now, naughty bunny."

Nina grinned, her hair ruffled, and dropped the T-shirt to the floor. "Just trying to ease you into it slowly, Sam."

"That's ma'am, to you, little rabbit," breathed Sam, her eyes on Nina's chest. Nina looked down too.

She saw her best friend looking at her breasts, encased in the lacy white special-occasion bra. "Are you going to take my bra too, ma'am?"

Samantha swallowed. "Yes," she said, breathily. "Yes, little rabbit, I'm going to take your bra too."

"But whatever shall I do without it?"

Samantha's hands slid up Nina's sides, settled on her shoulders. "You'll do," murmured Samantha, stroking downwards, "whatever pleases me."

Nina watched Samantha's fingers trace across her breasts. Her hands were warm, her fingers slender - the skin was a little dry. A tiny imperfection.

Her hands are so beautiful. "What pleases you, ma'am?"

Samantha's hands stroked down Nina's belly, settled on the button of Nina's jeans. "Taking your clothes," she said, quietly, manipulating button and zip - Nina saw her eyes widening as she realized what she was doing - "that's what pleases me."

Nina arched her hips. Her jeans slid down and off. Matching panties.

Nina watched her best friend, kneeling on the bed, look up and down her body. She saw naked desire, constrained only by Samantha's dwindling efforts to stay in character. She saw Samantha's eyes settle between her legs. She knew that Samantha would be able to see a soft crease through her underwear, dampened with her excitement.

She saw the pulse in Samantha's throat. Samantha, her eyes between Nina's legs, slowly let the jeans drop to the floor.

Nina squirmed, letting her left thigh come up, revealing just a little more. "Can you see my pussy, ma'am?"

Samantha swallowed, and took a deep breath. "Yes," she whispered. "A little bit. You're very wet."

"Oh no!" said Nina, bringing her hands up to her mouth, squirming a little more, revealing a little more. "Please don't look, ma'am! I'm shy!"

"You shouldn't try to tell me what to do, little rabbit," said Samantha, but distractedly, her arm shifting, putting gentle pressure on Nina's left knee, pushing her legs further open. "I might just do the opposite."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. How wet am I, ma'am?"

Nina felt the tip of Samantha's index finger against the soft bump of her mons. Samantha applied just the gentlest of pressure, and ran her finger in a long, slow line down the crotch of Nina's underwear, between her labia. Nina squirmed and moaned, breathy and low.

She watched Samantha bring her finger up to her face. "You're soaking through your underwear," said

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