You will want to have read the first part of Lola’s story.
Unbelievably to Lola, while she was facing the most troubling decision of her short lifetime (the decision to marry Jonas simple and trivial by comparison), Annelies and Jonas were talking mundanities, loading the dishwasher; Jonas was apparently nipping out to the late-night shop for something Lola couldn’t even make the effort to understand; inside her head was a rushing torrent, pulling everything from its moorings, leaving her nothing; nothing at all to cling to.
Nothing but Annelies. Jonas had, in a matter of minutes, become a sort of nothing to Lola. She still loved him, she supposed— though his collusion with Annelies needed thinking about sometime when her brain was working; still found him interesting as a person, sexually attractive— nothing had changed there, it was simply that he had been eclipsed entirely in importance to Lola’s future by Annelies.
It was astonishing that this was true, but at the same time, it was somehow obvious that it was not even worth questioning; Annelies had, in the last twenty minutes, become the key to Lola’s future. Whichever way Lola’s near-hysterical mind darted, there was Annelies, smiling in that knowing, heart-stopping way of hers, that smile which made Lola want Annelies to hold her, to tell her everything would be alright, which, if Annelies said it, would somehow be true, true forever, would make Lola’s life alright.
Oh my God I’m in love with Annelies. Maybe I have been for months, in a hopeless, stupid way.
And the little flame of hope and gratitude inside her suddenly burned more brightly, even though she didn’t understand what it was hopeful about, since what Annelies was promising was not simple comfort, still less safety and reciprocal love, but something far darker and more dangerous, however it fascinated Lola.
Maybe it’s not love? It doesn’t feel anything like how I feel for Jonas.
And it wasn’t; it was more like reverence, worship, awe; awe and wonder at just how incredible Annelies was, at everything she could do to Lola, if Lola would only let her, at what she had already done, so simply; shifted everything. A worshipper did not, could not expect worship in return; worship was asymmetrical, one-way; a worshipper had to live with the knowledge that what Annelies promised was not happiness, but annexation, was not giving, but taking, that whatever Annelies offered demanded submission;
I don’t have to go to work anymore.
I can do my art.
I don’t have to think about money.
Annelies is going to fuck me…
That last one was more difficult; massive churny movements in her belly, low down, in her groin, filling her with weak and helpless need for physicality…
Jesus I want her to fuck me so much it’s making me stupid…
The words ‘beat’ and ‘whip’ and ‘scream and beg’ rang out in her mind, demanding attention, but she simply could not let them become thoughts, become real; couldn’t face them, and then something came to her.
I don’t have to; they are not my business; That’s Annelies; what she wants. I don’t have to worry about Annelies getting what she wants; she’ll always take it from me now, whatever. That’s what I’m grateful for; so much is not my business, now. Oh god I’m so weak and pathetic I’m going to let her do bad things to me and still feel grateful! But I am, I am; if that’s what it takes for Annelies to look after me and make everything better, then I’ll let her have me, I will!
And again, the simple and obvious reality;
If I’m not strong enough, right now, Annelies is going to eat me alive.
And then Jonas was shutting the front door behind him and Annelies was right there, on the other side of the table, calm, silent, and it was very quiet, and Lola trembled, eyes down, on hold, for the longest time, not able to do anything more than wait, hang on, see what Annelies did; immobilised by the reality that everything now depended upon Annelies, that time had stopped for Lola until Annelies chose to make it start again, which she did by speaking, very soft and gentle and— heartbreaking for Lola— full of tender compassion;
“Good girl, Lola, good Little Lo; it will be hard, at times, tonight; I’m sorry for you, but it is certain in my mind that I need to make it hard for you— very hard for you, and straight away; so that you know.”
Annelies paused, letting it sink in; watching her, Lola felt, though she could not look up, could do nothing other than what her body determined she would, which was to come to attention in the chair, to hold herself upright, hold herself still, to lift her head even if her gaze was lowered, to tuck her hands out of sight, to make it clear to Annelies that she, Lola, was taking everything Annelies said with the utmost seriousness, and indeed, this physical acknowledgement wasn’t enough, and Lola heard herself say, in the smallest voice, but very clear, urgently sincere;
“You … you are very kind to … to think about me so … so carefully.”
To hear herself say such words, to make her newly discovered sense of worship, of gratitude so explicit, did astonishing things to Lola; the gratitude and reverence flowered inside her, nearly undid her control, accompanied as it was by a recurrence of the roaring in her mind, of the certainty that she, Lola, was being irrevocably changed, moment by moment, by Annelies, by Annelies attention and interest in her, that it was irresistible, that she was lost, lost already, before anything had even happened, and that she was grateful, so grateful that she was not being given any choice in the matter, but simply being swept along.
The only regret was that Annelies had not chosen to take her earlier; if it took so little to do this to Lola, why could it not have been done before? She almost laughed at herself then; Little Lo, silly Little Lo, struggling these last few months with all sorts of issues, personal worries, doubts, fears, challenges— all swept away, made moot, now, by this new reality— that Annelies would ordain Lola’s life, would dispose of Lola as she pleased, and that despite the shocking certainty that Annelies would demand much in return, that she would impose shocking, even devastating requirements, that everything would be better. That Annelies’ dominion (for it was already clear that dominion was to be all-encompassing) would change everything, make everything simple.
It was hard then, for Lola, to say goodbye to so much, so fast, as the roaring took her, as so much of her life, of what she had spent her time caring about, was rendered insignificant, irrelevant, paltry, without time, even, to understand what she was losing, just an immense and thorough washing away of concerns, a simplification, a diminishment that she, Lola, had not so much accepted as been subsumed by, in such a short span of time, with such a few words, with almost no space at all for Lola to even speak. And yet it was over, it seemed, all over bar the actual experience of being Annelies’ creature.
Only one or two tears escaped Lola’s determination to retain some small dignity, but Annelies saw them of course, and knelt, briefly to gently wipe them away with a soft brush of her fingers;
“Oh, pretty Little, you are so lovely like this, it almost breaks my heart, knowing what I’m going to such sweetness; it’s almost a shame to move you on, but Little one, you need to know how I’ll be with you, so that tomorrow, when you say what you want, you can be safe, sure, because you’ll know what it costs.”
“It will be a shock, though, at first; it must be, and I’m not sorry— not at all— you need to know that I’m going to enjoy it, going to enjoy hurting you, enjoy making you cry and despair; I really am, just as much as I’m going to enjoy fucking you; it will be lovely to have you, finally, the way I’ve wanted you, ever since I met you; have you in the palm of my hand, like a lovely, living toy. And then tomorrow, we’ll find out if you understand; I think you will; I think you’ll understand that you need it too, even though it will cost you dearly. But we need to find out for sure, and so I need to have you experience everything, tonight.”
More silence, then, as Lola felt, against all sense, the feelings of hope and awe and wonder and gratitude building, stronger still inside her alongside the fear and trembling, feeling so weak and warm and tingly all over; a deliciously strange feeling, as if she were a little child with the imminence of Christmas, while it had still been magic and mysterious; only this was better, much better, because it was real, not make believe, and for a second, she needed, was able to look up into Annelies’ face, and hold her eyes, just for a short, short time, just enough to see that Annelies was sure, sure and certain and confident, to see her casual, relaxed smile, to know that Annelies knew what she was doing, had no doubts, and then Lola felt herself really give in to Annelies, felt herself let go of something, let it go, forever.
Let go of the idea that you are on the same level as her— that she’s a friend, an equal. Accept that you’re small, compared to her; small and weak and useless and lucky— so lucky— that she finds you cute, that she will enjoy hurting you and shaming you and fucking you.
These thoughts; so wrong and at the same time such an infinite relief, took Lola so powerfully, then, that she needed to let Annelies know, make sure that Annelies knew she accepted her smallness, but she was suddenly overwhelmed by shame and unworthiness and fear and her mouth issued some words without her mind having even formed them;
“I … I don’t … I don’t think I can do this. It’s too much, too much for me, and … and I’m afraid … I know it … I’ll let you down. I can’t do this; not … not that I don’t want … just I’m so rubbish, I … I don’t want to let you down.”
The words burned Lola as they streamed from her; to say such things, out loud! Such shame! Such admissions!
But Annelies seemed to be having none of it; in a rallying tone which allowed for no resistance, no disagreement, she moved things forward;
“Oh Little! I know, I know; this is almost the hardest part, just to let it happen, I know; but we’ll get you there, get you where you want to be. Come now, let’s have you up!”
Squatting down again, lithe and muscular, Annelies put one arm around Lola’s back, another under her knees, and simply gathered her up, then in one smooth and powerful move stood up, lifting Lola, to deposit her on the table;
“Up now, on your knees— can’t let yourself loll about in a heap, now, can you, not in that pretty little dress, not if you want me to fuck you!”
And with casual but irresistible manipulations, Annelies had Lola kneeling up on the dining table, trying to hold her back straight, trembling, feeling even smaller after having been managed so effortlessly. It had shocked her that Annelies could be so strong, but then she had remembered; in addition to everything else, Annelies was a serious alpinist, and a competitive ballroom dancer. Annelies’ time in the gym, along with everything else she chose to do, was serious, purposeful and effective.
“You’re right of course, pretty (and I must say, up there on the table like that, you do look ravishingly pretty— so cute and vulnerable!). You can’t do this; if we left it up to you, nothing would happen, and we’d none of us get what we want.”
“That’s why I’m doing it like this; so you don’t have to. That’s my job— I’m going to be the one doing things— doing things to you, making you do things for me, and you’ll have no choice. If you are silly enough to try and stop me, I’ll do it to you anyway. So you see, I’m setting it up so that you can’t let me down, because you simply won’t be allowed to. And that’s why it’s going to be OK. I’m the responsible adult here; the only thing you have to do is accept; which, since you are so obviously weak and needy, you will not be able to resist doing. it’s going to alright, Little; you’re going to be mine.”
It was so strange, and indeed wonderful and astonishing to hear everything laid out so simply and masterfully, and Lola’s sense of weakness, of being carried along by a smooth but irresistible, fast-running current, of knowing that she wanted to relax into that current, let it take her, despite the shame and weakness of giving up, despite the uncertainty of where she would be taken, beyond the certainty that it is going to be somewhere extremely challenging, all adding to her sense of fragility, of nervousness, all of which makes it more important than ever that she please Annelies, the one person in this situation who seems confident and casual and in control; the only person who makes Lola feel safe— even though she is at the same time a continuously destabilising force; the person who makes Lola feel most nervous and vulnerable.
But Annelies is moving her on again;
“The first thing I’m going to teach you to do, because it’s the most important thing you can do now, is to give yourself. I’m going to show you how to give yourself to me— the most important giving of all.
“Soon enough you’ll be giving yourself to more people like this; Jason, of course, then some of our friends will want to play with you, then of course strangers; you’ll give yourself to all of us the same way; on your knees like this.”
“But right now, you’re going to give yourself to me. You’ll put out your cupped hands, in a begging pose, begging for my right hand; when you get it, you’ll deliver it between your spread legs to your pussy; Then, once I’m playing with your pussy, you’ll beg again, for my left hand, and you take it to your breasts, so I can play with them, too. Then, you shift yourself around— whatever it takes, to make it easy for me to play with you— make yourself a toy for whoever you are giving yourself to. Lastly, then, you let your head fall back a bit, then open your mouth a little, and put your tongue, very soft and lose, out onto your bottom lip— just the tip of it, mind, and close your eyes; it’s not for you to know what’s coming; whether I kiss you or put my fingers down your throat or fill you full of champagne or the neck of a champagne bottle; it’s not your business to know or have an opinion about, only to respond to what is demanded from you, as best you can. It doesn’t matter whether you like it or not— that’s not the point. As it happens, though, I’m certain that you are a helpless slut, a wanton; that you will find it impossible not to get turned on.”
“Will you do that for me now?”
It was like a dream, then (how could such strangeness, such astonishing words, such an impossible scene be anything else?), and— as in a dream— the logic of compliance seemed impeccable and unarguable, as Lola was possessed by a strong need to make herself as cute and soft and pretty as she could manage for Annalies, resetting herself, opening her thighs, pulling her shoulders back, straightening her neck, pulling her belly in, as she cupped her hands, inviting Annelies’ hand and then, wonderingly, quivering, delivered it to the gap between her thighs, under her skirt, at which point Annelies unsurprisingly took charge and, gently enough, but with casual confidence, took total possession of Lola’s pussy, Annelies’ hand so sure, so certain of what it wanted and how to get it that Lola— just as predicted— felt herself melt down there, instantly feverish with the need to give herself to Annelies, to have Annelies pleased with her, leaning back to open herself more completely, needing to prop herself up from behind with her hands, her hips lifting, groin thrusting to offer Annelies her pussy, a long drawn out moan, desperately soft and shaky, escaping her.
Lola was aware that a part of her was appalled at this helpless, shameless expression of her arousal, but it was simply drowned out by a powerful rush of delirious emotion and desperate, weak gratitude. How could she have been resisting this for so long?
“Don’t forget, pretty, you have tasks to perform.”
Annelies’ amused and complacent chiding, coincident with the mundane sound of the front door closing served to snap Lola out of the dream, and her eyes flashed open, needing to reorient, only to see Jason standing, open-mouthed at the sight of his young wife, wantonly posing, kneeling on the dining table in her skimpy little dress, thighs split wide apart, all but swooning with pleasure at the experience of having her pussy expertly manipulated by Annelies.
Lola’s hips were still moving urgently despite her shock,as she experienced almost every emotion all at once, all turned up to eleven, so that she felt she must implode, only to be saved by Annelies, who gripped Lola’s chin with her left hand, forcing Lola to look at her— without for an instant ceasing her investigation of Lola’s hot and slippy sex. Annelies’ commanding, relaxed amusement immediately conquered Lola, the younger woman’s submission releasing a flood of deep gratitude to her older friend, somehow resolving all confusion, all shock, all shame, all questions.
“Just so, pretty Little, just so; it simply doesn’t matter how shocked you are, how ashamed, how helplessly turned on, because none of that is interesting; what matters is that you please me, that you obey me, that you accept that what I want of you, while I can be bothered to express it, is your be-all and end-all. Can you do that for me?”
And immediately, thoughtlessly; desperately eager to be affirmative, Lola hears her voice (so trembly, breathy and high-pitched, weak and urgently needy);
“Oh yes, yes, please…”
It was terrible and wonderful to be so abject, to offer herself so completely into Annelies’ control, but here was confirmation that it didn’t matter how she felt about it, what mattered was that her body had already expressed what her words had meant, as once again, Lola shifted with the sole and complete aim of conveying her wish to submit herself as a vehicle for Annelies’ pleasure, letting herself moan again as Annelies’ manipulations became more demanding, her fingers, with their long lacquered nails, pushing the soaking gusset of Lola’s panties aside and thrusting deep into Lola’s sex. She’d never permitted Jason to put more than two fingers inside her, ever, and here she was, actively encouraging Annelies as she bunched all four of her fingers to push right into Lola’s pussy, opening herself, welcoming the invasion rather than resisting, on the edge of real pain though it was, even though Jason was watching, even though she knew she must die of shame once this was all over, even as tears gathered in her eyes with the intensity of the combination of pleasure and hurt and shame and the glory of submission to Annelies’ mastery delivering to her an intensity beyond anything she had ever dreamed.
The overwhelm was immense and again, it was only by looking into Annelies’ calmly amused eyes that Lola managed to stay with it, her soft mouth open, her expression poignant with the depth of her gratitude and abject neediness;
“Now, pretty, there is more expected of you, remember? You won’t let me down in front of Jason, will you?”
The voice was as light and amused as ever, but some tiny undertone, some inflection, some quirk at the corner of Annelies’ mouth freighted the softly worded question with urgent import for Lola, and her mind scrambled to reconstruct Annelies’ instructions of only a few minutes earlier and she straightened herself so she could use her hands again, finding it needful to spread her legs even more obscenely wide to compensate, to continue to make herself as accessible to Annelies’ hand, still exploring Lola’s trembling pussy. Offering her cupped hands, begging Annelies with Jason watching was hard but non-negotiable, as Lola delivered Annelies’ left hand toward her cleavage, letting her own hands fall away weakly as Annelies took full advantage, tucking inside the bodice of Lola’s dress to casually and directly drag Lola’s bra up and out, freeing Lola’s breasts, then pulled it high and back over Lola’s head, trapping Lola’s upper arms behind her back in a tangle of lace, wire and elastic, before returning, with a satisfied grin, to grasp Lola’s right breast, encompassing it fully, twisting and moulding the handful of soft, firm flesh gently enough, but with total command, producing a gasp from Lola.
“Tssk, pretty Little, you really are forgetting yourself, now, there is more, remember? We’ll let it pass this time if you’ll be good, but you must understand that in future such lapses will cost you, cost you with pain and shame. If Jason and I are to keep you in luxury, free to be your pretty self, fuck you as you need to be fucked, you must hold up your end of the bargain.”
And the dream is back for Lola, then, everything for gotten but her duty to Annelies, and she drags the words from her memory, puts her head back and, finding it as delicious as it is shaming, she softly opens her lips and, hesitating at the brazenness of it, pokes her pink little tongue tip out, feeling it flutter with nerves, laying it softly on her bottom lip, hearing herself whimpering as she closes her eyes, giving herself up— as Annelies had told her she must— to the whim of her new mistress, to the sensation of her sex being occupied, invaded, her breasts so gloriously possessed, her position so weak, so vulnerable, her responsibility for herself suspended, so that for the first time in many years, Lola feels herself blameless, free, untrammelled by cares, and the tears run from her eyes at the appalling cost, the unbearable sweetness, of having been demolished.
