Sara's Silken Ladder Ch. 01

'I no wear panties,' she told me, by way of explanation, and I explored, finding that she, too, was moist in anticipation. I wanted to look at her, feast my eyes on her most secret place, and she obligingly lay back and parted her long, slender legs, wide open, and wide open, what was more, forme! I bent down as she opened herself up with two fingers, displaying her beautiful, pink, glistening cunt, and I saw that she had a pierced clitoris, with a little silver ring inserted. From the ring dangled a silver clasp, containing a blue gemstone. I tugged the charming decoration gently with my teeth, until she moaned just slightly, then I started to lap her pussy with my tongue, as Nadia manoeuvred us into a '69' position, and returned the favour, her long tongue making little slurping noises as she licked me. I couldn't take much more, and had to work to resist cumming until I felt Nadia start to writhe, and heard her breaths coming in short gasps that told me she was close as well. I drove my tongue deep into her cunt, and abandoned myself to the sheer pleasure only a raging orgasm could bring.

Later, we lay side-by-side in comfortable silence, lightly holding hands, staring at nothing in particular. It was Nadia who broke the silence.

'I want to say to you, but I can't.....don't know the words.'

I brought her slim, long-fingered, beautifully manicured hand to my lips, and said, 'Try!'

'I feel like I make love for first time.'

'For me itwasthe first time – with a woman, that is.'

'I make it with woman one time before – in Moscow, when I was student.'

'And with men?'

'I don't like men. Many try, but I.....' She made a dismissive gesture, 'but now, I find you, Sara. I think I love you.'

The words dropped into my ears like gold dust.

'Oh Nadia, I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. I just couldn't believe my feelings – didn't want to admit to myself that I had these feelings for another woman.'

She threw a long leg over me, and turned to kiss my lips.

'I think we can make love many ways, Sara. I want try things with you that I have....oh, I don't know the word, like dreams?'

'Fantasies?'

'Yes, that I have fantasies about.'

'Mmmm, sounds great!'

'But now I must sleep – I'm very tired. We see us tomorrow evening – yes?'

'Oh yes! Yes please.'

'OK, I phone you then.'

I could have lain with her all night, but I knew I had to go to work next morning, so I made sure she had my mobile number, then made my way home to my tiny, icy-cold flat, but I didn't notice the cold, not that night.

I lay snuggled under my duvet and went over the events of the day, wonderingly. Me, a Lesbian? Dyke? Gay? None of the familiar handles seemed to fit. Perhaps I was bisexual, but then I remembered the spectacular failure of my most recent excursion into what ought, surely, to be normal sex. When eventually, I drifted off to sleep, my last waking image was of Nadia's lovely face, and the sound of her awkward, strange accent was in my ears.

Helen tried to grill me about the evening before – she had seen me leaving with Nadia – but I played it close to the chest, even though a large part of me wanted to trumpet my new-found love from the rooftops. Hang on, I thought. Love? Am I really in love, in love with another girl? Whichever way I turned it, the answer came up – yes! Proof came, in that I could hardly wait to see Nadia again, and was consumed by fear – fear that she would reconsider, and never want to see me again. I carried my mobile around all day, just willing it to ring.

Her call came as I was listing stock, out on the sales floor. My heart leapt. I couldn't talk for long, but arranged to meet her outside the store, from where she was eager to take me out for dinner.

'But I'll be in my uniform,' I protested.

'Doesn't matter,' she said, so it was agreed.

We dined in an upmarket Thai restaurant, and when I told her she didn't have to buy me a meal, she said, 'I have much money – and nothing better to spend it on.'

I started to piece together her story. She had trained in music at the Moscow Conservatoire, and taught piano for a time there, until she won a beauty competition, and accepted an offer to work as a fashion model, with virtually no training behind her.

Since then, the offers had come thick and fast, and she was regarded now as a 'top model.'

'You too could be model,' she said to me, and I laughed, but was secretly tickled pink to hear her say so.

We walked back to Nadia's home, hand-in-hand through the cold, damp streets, and I was happy – happier than I had ever been in my life. When I glanced at Nadia's elegant profile, I felt so proud just to be with her. This must be what love is like, I thought.

'I want to show you some things I have bought today,' she said, coyly, went we got into her cosy little house 'I hope you'll like them. Make us a coffee, while I get the things.'

I obediently went into the kitchen, and rummaged around the unfamiliar cupboards looking for the coffee things, but had everything under control, when a sound behind me made me look around.

Nadia was framed in the doorway, wearing the most amazing gown I had ever seen. It was black, silky and completely transparent. It was floor-length, with a high neck and long sleeves, but every detail of her lovely body was visible, and she had a heavy silver chain hung loosely about her waist – the only thing she wore under the gown.

'God, I could eat you!' I whispered.

'Mmmm, yes please. But first, it is playtime. Go and change while I pour the coffee. You'll find what I bought for you to wear on the bed.'

I went into the bedroom, unable to resist trailing my hand over Nadia's scantily clad body as I passed. She purred as I did so, letting her long mane of blonde hair trail over my hand in a deliberate gesture.

I was curious to see what she had bought for me, and gasped when I held up the garment. It was a peach organdie 'harem suit' – almost as transparent as Nadia's dress, with long, voluminous sleeves, and a high neckline, buttoned in the back, so that my breasts would present an uninterrupted view, when, as I realised was Nadia's intention, I wore it with nothing underneath. When I put on the wide trousers, I noticed that there was a lace-fringed opening to coincide with my crack, which ran from the top of the cleft in my buttocks right through to my mound. It was cunningly closed with an invisible strip of velcro. She had left a pair of stiletto-heeled sandals, my size, by the bed, though whether she had just bought them, or if our sizes coincided, I didn't know. I stripped and put on the suit, then twirled in front of the mirror. What a change! I was amazed, and felt that I could almost – but not quite – match Nadia's exotic beauty. I brushed out my hair, my hands now trembling with anticipation, using Nadia's silver-handled hairbrush. I was ready to be with my lover.

When I walked into the lounge, she was stood waiting for me.

'You look ravishing, darling,' she said, but I couldn't have matched Nadia in a million years, her slender body displayed under its silky, transparent sheath., her long platinum blonde mane shining, as it fell almost to her waist. She stood with her legs slightly apart, and I could see the little decoration dangling lewdly from her clit. Right then I would have done absolutely anything she asked of me, but when I walked up to her, she took my head in her hands, then kissed me as she stroked my hair.

'Oh my darling,' I said, 'I don't want this moment to end.'

'We have all evening,' she replied, 'and many more.'

It was music in my ears to hear her say such things, and when her hand strayed down to my crotch, I obligingly tore open the vecro there, until my slit was framed with pretty lace. Nadia's long, long nails scratched my clitoris, quickly bringing me to the verge of an orgasm, but then, sensing that, she withdrew her hand, and said, 'Undress me, my love, I want you – all of you!'

I unzipped her gown and eased it from her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a soft whisper

And she was naked but for the heavy silver chain. We fell together onto the sofa, and she helped me out of my skimpy outfit, then, like lightning, she had two long fingers deep in my hot wet cunt, and their movement was making slushy noises as my breathing reached maximum speed. Then, just as I was about to cum, she pulled her fingers out of me.

'I hope you like what I now do, as then you do same for me,' she said mysteriously, then, by way of explanation, rammed an elegant forefinger into the depth of my arsehole. I had never felt a pain like it – quite excruciating, but laced with something else, a deep and abiding ecstasy so intense I couldn't begin to put it into words, and when I felt another finger join the first, opening up my velvet tunnel for the first time in my life, wiggling, exploring and driving in and out at the same time, I thought I might die from sheer plesure – and pain. I came, a noisy, screaming climax which made my vaginal fluid ooze out all over Nadia, then collapsed, sobbing, into her arms.

'I'm so sorry, darling, I not want to hurt you,' she murmured.

'It's not that at all,' I tried to reassure her, 'I've never known anything like that. I love you.'

'So now you do same for me,' she said, and lay back on the sofa, her legs wide apart. Her pink cunt was open and inviting, and when she reached between her legs and stretched her lips wide, I saw the dark depths of her fuckhole, pulsing slightly as her excitement increased. I just had to lick her, and she moaned with joy as I nibbled her clit, the ring between my teeth. Then as she had done to me, I thrust a finger into the tiny, puckered hole of her anus. She groaned and squirmed as I went deeper, then said, breathlessly, 'More, darling, more!.'

I added another finger, then another, and she started to buck and writhe as I fucked her arsehole with my hand. Soon she came, with a mighty, shuddering heave.

When we sat, her arm around my shoulders, both of us dressed once again in our sexy outfits, she said, 'I want that you think about me – about us – when we are not with us.'

You mean when we are not together?'

'Yes, oh, my English is so bad!'

'I do think about you, Nadia.'

'You must wear no panties, no bra, to remind you, and we go to have you piercing, no?'

The idea of going naked under my skirt and blouse all day was a nice one, but I was less sure about the piercing part, and asked her if it would hurt.

'Hurt, yes, when I am pierced, but very exciting,' she said enigmatically. I wasn't sure about that.

I went to work the next day, nothing on under my skirt and blouse. Nadia called as I was having my morning coffee.

'Are you dressed like we say?' she asked.

'Yes,' I replied.

'Good, so am I. I have miniskirt, and now go to shoe-shop.' The mere thought of the shop-assistant getting a glimpse of her shaven pussy, and the intimate decoration it bore made me start to get wet, because I knew that was in her mind, or she wouldn't have told me about the miniskirt.

That evening, she confirmed that that was what she had done, and I almost felt jealous of the girl in the shop. I told her that I had simply walked round thinking about her all day, my nakedness under my uniform a constant reminder. We played with some toys she had bought, Nadia introducing me to a string of blue plastic balls we each tried out. I loved the feel of them as they popped out of my anus one by one, and the sight of them emerging from my lover's rectum was, if anything, more exciting still. She then told me that she would go with me next evening to the piercing salon. The idea frightened me, quite frankly.

When we arrived at the shop, in a Paddington backstreet, Nadia surprised me: 'I have been thinking – your clitoris is little, and is hiding well. Maybe we do your tongue?'

I felt relieved, but didn't know what a pierced tongue was going to feel like, either. I agreed, however, and, in the event, felt nothing when the surprisingly professional guy in a clean white lab-coat sprayed some numbing agent on my tongue, then deftly pierced it, and fitted me with a gold-stemmed coral stud. It felt very odd indeed, and I thought it made my speech sound different, but Nadia said she could hardly wait to have me tongue her cunt, when the initial soreness wore off.

When, after three days, I eventually got to oblige her, she screamed with pleasure as I flicked her clit with my stud, then drove it deep into her sopping wet cunt.

Life went on very pleasantly for several weeks. Nadia had taken to calling for me at the store when she wasn't busy, and once she came to collect me when Helen had sent me on a late errand. I came back and found them chatting and laughing together.

Next day, Helen said, 'Your friend is very lovely, and her English has improved so much. You are so lucky to have her.' Did I detect a touch of envy there?

But the very day of that conversation, Nadia dropped a bombshell on me.

'I've been invited to go and work in Los Angeles,' she said, 'the money's fantastic, and there may be a film opportunity there.'

'That's lovely for you,' I managed, but must have looked terribly crestfallen.

'Oh darling,' she said, 'we can visit one another, can't we?' Not, I noted, 'come with me!' It clearly wasn't an option. My eyes misted up with tears as I walked to the tube station, on my way home.

After a rotten night, I must have looked a wreck when I got to work next morning, because Helen virtually pounced on me.

'Whatever is wrong?'

I told her, and she gave me a hug. 'Look, Sara, I know it's no compensation, but I have two complementary tickets to the Festival Hall for tomorrow night. How'd you like to come with me?'

I nodded glumly, 'Thank you Helen, I'd like that.' She left me alone all day after that.

The next day I had a quick call from Nadia, who was going off on a photoshoot somewhere. She sounded distant, as if she had already put me out of her mind.

That evening, I stood and waited or Helen in the huge, well-lit foyer of the Festival Hall, its functional fifties architecture looming above. When she turned up, I hardly recognised her – it was the first time I had seen her dressed up since the fashion show, when she had worn a simple black dress – and she looked glamorous in a long, pale green silk sheath, with a black stole over her shoulders. I worried that I was under-dressed in a simple maroon button-through, but Helen told me I looked fine. The music was wonderful, an impossibly young Korean violinist playing the Beethoven concerto, then the orchestra raising the roof with Sibelius' second symphony. During the interval, Helen said, 'Not worth queueing up for a drink – let's go for one later. Are you enjoying it?'

'Oh yes, Helen, thank you.'

She reached over and squeezed my hand at that, and as I was wondering about her, never having heard her mention a husband or boyfriend, I realised that her hand had stayed on my thigh. I also realised that it wasn't altogether unwelcome!

Afterwards, she asked me if I felt hungry, and we ended up in an Indian restaurant near Charing Cross. When, as we took coffees, I felt Helen's bestockinged foot run up and down my calf, her shoe having been kicked off, I looked a question at her, and, for reply, she reached for my hand across the table.

'Have you enjoyed this evening, my dear?' she asked.

'It's been lovely.'

'And I see you've enjoyed the meal. Why don't you let me cook for you – tomorrow night, say?'

'I'd like that – I'd like it very much.' And I was being honest. She was good company, and had a certain maturity, and a dominant personality that somehow thrilled me. I didn't think I was quite ready for another relationship, but what would be the harm in going for a meal?

We were very busy all the next day, hardly having the time to speak, but as I prepared to leave, Helen handed me a card with her address on it - a nice Chelsea one – and said, 'Eightish? Don't dress up.'

I smiled at her, 'I'll be there.'

In the event, I wore a pleated miniskirt and a peasant blouse under my padded topcoat when I caught the tube to Helen's. I had continued to go without underwear, even though I was constantly reminded of my love for Nadia, but, for the cool evening weather, I had put on hold-up black stockings.

I rang the bell-push beside Helen's name on a plate beside the door – there was one other apartment in the building – and the door buzzed open. I walked up a flight of stairs, and through a door that was standing ajar.

Helen greeted me, and I did a double-take as she did so. I had never seen her with her hair down before, and it was startlingly long, cascading, slightly wavy and thick, down to the middle of her back. But what really surprised me was that she wore a long midnight-blue silk negligee, tied at the waist with a wide sash, but sufficiently open down to the waist to reveal that she was naked under it, and when she turned and walked ahead of me, enough of her long legs could be seen to suggest that she probably wore nothing else.

'Are you cold, darling?' she asked. It was plesantly warm in her apartment, and I told her I was fine.

'Then why don't you make yourself comfortable? I can certainly find you something, so that we can be alike.'

Before I had time to respond, she had led me through to a lovely, feminine bedroom, all drapes and soft furnishings, and whisked a long white garment out of the wardrobe.

I had already taken off my coat, at the door, and Helen said, 'Take your things off, and slip into this,' holding the silky garment up to show me that it was, indeed, a negligee like hers.

I lifted my elasticated blouse up over my head, very conscious of Helen's eyes boring into me, then unclipped the waistband of my skirt. I was left naked but for my stockings. Helen's reaction shocked me.

'Quite a little slut, aren't you, Sara,' she said, 'no underwear, eh?'

I didn't know what to say. Nobody had ever called me that before, and I made to reach for my skirt again, but she caught my arm, and laughed.

'Put this on!' she said, rather sharply, passing me the negligee, 'You mustn't take offence.'

I looked at her as I fastened the sash of the soft robe, hurt that she should have called me a slut - she, who I had looked up to, and who had always been kind to me.

She came up to me, and grabbed a handful of my long blonde hair, twisting it around in her hand, and pulling my head back.

'So you don't think you're a slut, then, Sara?'

'No! And you're hurting me! Please let go!'

Instead of letting go, she kissed me hard on the lips, still yanking my hair viciously. In spite of myself, I found my mouth opening under her onslaught, my tongue searching her unfamiliar mouth, stud clicking against her teeth, and I pressed my body up against hers, feeling her heat, her need. When eventually we parted, I was breathing as if I'd just run a four hundred metre race.

'Yes, I suppose I am a slut,' I gasped.

'But you can bemyslut,' said Helen, 'if you want.'

'Yes, oh yes!' somebody said – it must have been me.

'Let's go and eat, and then we can discuss it.'

We sat at Helen's table, eating the delicious meal she had prepared, and I thought how gorgeous she was, and wondered why I'd never before seen her in this light. She had shocked me by what she had said, but awakened some inner self that must have been laying dormant within me. I had had an inkling of it the night before, when I had thought how dominant she was, and now she had proposed that I becomeher slut!

I several times started to ask her what exactly he had in mind, but she told me repeatedly to wait until we had finished eating.

When at length we were sat on the sofa with coffees, she held my hand and said, smilingly, 'I suppose I was a little offended that you wear no underwear, as that should have been one of my instructions to you, and you have pre-empted that. But first of all, I have to ask you again: Are you prepared to be my slut, darling?'