Zippers

PART 20

 

I lay in bed. Finally I was totally exhausted and utterly depleted, emotionally. Sleepiness was starting to take me and it was the most merciful thing that had happened all day. I heard a key in the door and then heard it creak open.

 

I heard it slam and I heard sobbing. I heard rapid, marching footsteps going into the living room and then I heard frantic movements, the crying became louder and the sobs more piteous as she broke down. I figured that Lisa was probably feeling how I had been about two hours ago. I couldn’t leave her. I got up. It was cold so I wrapped a blanket around myself before going to the lounge. The light was on and the floor was littered with stockings, underwear and unfastened shoes. In the corner, naked, curled up in a ball, sobbing and broken, was Lisa.

 

My heart went out to her immediately and I rushed over to hold her. Her eyes were wide with fear as she held her hands up, holding me off; she didn’t want to be touched. Her eyes were red raw, her face was streamed with black streaks from her eye make-up.

 

‘Lisa, it’s me, Anita, darling’ I had said ‘it’s only me baby. Ssssshhhhhhh. Its okay, Lisa. It’s okay now darling’

 

She had carried on sobbing. I was lost already and hardly in any position of strength myself. I wrapped the blanket round her and sat down, naked, next to her. I saw her discarded dress in a tiny pile. There couldn’t have been much to it but it looked to be made of a fine purple silk. Her black stilettos lay nearby, the word ‘Manolo’ stared across at me from the leather sole. A diamond choker lay coiled at her feet. I remembered the clothes that I had taken off and hung up when I got home, they were so different.

 

The loud sobbing next to me started to bore into my fatigued, spent mind. It wasn’t long before a tear started to trickle down my own face and I sat, silently, next to her, my eyes screwed up, curling into my own little ball.

 

After a minute, she reached across to me and wrapped the blanket round me. We looked at each other and then grasped each other tightly. With the blanket pulled tightly around us, to protect us, we wept together. We wept at what was our lot. I had worked through it all so many times that night as I lay there, unable to sleep, but I had found no resolution; I doubted if I ever would. Vivienne, my Mistress, had smashed me down even further today. She had maniacally bulldozered her way through more of my most intimate boundaries. She had made me become a slut and no matter which way I looked at it, it tore into my very soul.

 

Eventually, at about three o’clock I had cried myself dry again and was weary and blurred with fatigue. Lisa, however, was still inconsolable. It was all I could do to get her onto the sofa and get her to drink some hot chocolate with the blanket wrapped around her. She stared blankly ahead with the glazed eyes of a woman who belonged in a mental-care home. I was seriously worrying about her sanity. I lifted the cup to her lips and made her drink some. Finally, she took a little sip and, for the first time in probably an hour, made eye contact with me.

 

I cuddled her some more and eventually managed to get her into bed, holding her and gently stroking the hair on the side of her head. Eventually she breached her silence.

 

‘I think……I think I’m going to go mad’

 

As I clutched her, I had worried about my own sanity. I couldn’t think of anything to say to her; I had the same fears and no answers. I had also been stretched to such an extent that I would never spring back; I would never be the same. After a time she opened up a little. She kept breaking down as she remembered all the horrible things from her day. I just listened. I didn’t want her to rake up things that she didn’t want to so I didn’t ask her a thing. I had no useful wisdom to impart to help her with her dire situation and I was, on top of it all, so very tired; but I stayed awake for her, to listen.

 

She had been taken out early that morning by Trisha. She was going to get a new high fashion, ‘fuck me’ trophy-secretary look. Lisa had instantly balked at the idea and had made no secret of it. Trisha had been delighted and had forced her to follow, at heel, as she led her through the shops, threatening her with a few things. She wanted her dressed very expensively, so that she would be an absolute prize; but she wanted her sexy; very, very sexy.

 

To make it worse, Trisha had started to touch her. In fact, she couldn’t keep her hands off her. She kept following her into the changing rooms and when the curtain was shut, she would start to caress and work her hands over her. Lisa found this deeply unsettling and when Trisha, looking her lustfully in the eyes, slid her hand down into her panties and made a slow but penetrating stroke up the front of her slit, Lisa had torn herself away, yanking out her Mistresses hand in defiant repulsion. When she told me this, I had gasped. That was why she had earned herself a punishment earlier.

 

This had been further compounded when, halfway through their shopping trip, they had been joined by Vivienne and had all sat down in the café at Harvey Nicholls. They had given her an interrogation, similar to the one that I had received, except they had obviously been less forceful with her ‘disinhibition’. She had, in spite of her hanging punishment, tried to fob them off with a few whimsical ideas for her ‘look’; but they had caught her out.

 

When they had eventually flicked the switch in her mind that opened her up fully, and she was forced to tell the truth, the real answers had unmasked and exposed her as the liar that she really was. She had sat there shaking with fear, a trapped animal, as Trisha told her that she had earned herself, in the space of an hour, a second punishment. She wept as she recalled how easily she had been played and how stupid she had been for trying to lie. I gulped and thanked my lucky stars that they had not set that trap up for me.

 

They had then gone back to the shops and hunted out some of the key items that would really get to her. She hated to show off her legs, so they bought a selection of fashionable, mini-skirt-suits. She hated ‘fuck me’ office heels and patterned or fishnet stockings, so they had bought a very thorough selection. She had fretted as item after item was bagged up for her. She couldn’t believe what was being done to her; it was one of her nightmares coming true. Trisha had purred constantly with lustful approval as she had tried everything on.

 

Lisa was used to dressing very professionally and conservatively, she had, after all, been a lawyer. She deliberately avoided looking sexy or overly feminine and she admitted, under duress, that she had actually looked down on the secretarial staff that did dress like that. Her firm had been huge and they had had many sexy young girls out to make their mark with daringly provocative but incredibly fashionable outfits. With Trisha’s compelling guidance, she had reluctantly recalled the details of these. She had listed all the essential and defining things that she would need for her new look. Her Mistresses had grinned as she had slowly spilled her guts to them. Then she had been made to find everything and buy it.

 

She curled up as she remembered how she had been made to look and how satisfied Trisha had been with the end result. I thought that I would have been glad to have been dressed like that, especially given what they had condemned me to wear, I didn’t feel the same way about it as Lisa. I accepted that everyone was different and that we all had our own, different and painful buttons. Vivienne had pressed mine as Trisha had pressed Lisa’s.

 

As she finished her hot chocolate, she started to relax just a little as she carried on talking. At the end of the morning, she had been taken to Trisha’s beauticians shop and had been left there for her makeover. They had cut and styled her hair, done her nails, shaped her eyebrows and made her up. She had then been sprayed with Trisha’s choice of perfume and set to sit and wait for her Mistress to return. It was then, just before I had met her in the car-park, that she had first been punished.

 

She broke down again as she recalled it and I deliberately didn’t ask her about it; I just held her. I could see in her eyes that it must have been much worse than I could imagine. A new wave of fear swept over me as I sensed the power, the terrible magnitude of this thing that Vivienne had put in our heads that we might be disciplined. I shuddered as Lisa started to speak again.

 

For the afternoon she had been sent home and had spent two whole hours on the training machine. I contrast to my own time; all of hers was spent working on the artificial pussy, with her mouth. It had allowed her a few breaks between programs but had otherwise pushed her to her absolute limit. Her tongue had burned as the poor muscle had been worked to exhaustion; like never before.

 

At a time that must have coincided with Trisha’s disappearance from my shopping trip that afternoon, she had visited Lisa at the house, and had punished her again; this time for her behaviour in the changing room. There must have been something else, some awful detail that was too painful to share because she stopped talking there and reverted back to her blank stare. I shook her, until she looked at me once more.

 

Again I asked nothing, but she wept hoarsely as she told me what the worst part of it all was. As if things weren’t bad enough, apparently there was going to be a change of plan for her. Trisha had delighted in revealing it to her as she had lain sobbing, begging, and clinging to her Mistress’s shoe; that she was going to have Lisa fixed. She was going to become her very own, perfect, personal assistant. She was to become her fully trained sex-toy; exactingly schooled in the arts of pleasing a lady and she would be made to suffer, exquisitely, for her Mistresses pleasure. Dumbstruck at the horror of her unfolding future, she had then been made to lie down flat on her back while Trisha froze her for the next hour, to think about what she had done and how she would learn to apply herself from now on. After spilling all this out she collapsed into a flood of tears again. She was to become Trisha’s personal slave. She was to be utterly at the mercy of the woman that she was most afraid of; and she would be her lesbian pleasure slave.

 

Lisa fixed me with an ice cold stare. I could now see that this was what had been wrenching at her sanity.

 

To prepare her for her new role, her evening had been not dissimilar from my own, in terms of smashing through her most intimate boundaries.

 

She was dressed in her own new style but instead of being taken to a pub, she was taken to a lesbian pick-up bar. She didn’t tell me any more of the details and I could understand why; I was not going to tell her about my incident in the back alley. It occurred to me that she had been out a lot longer than I had though, so there was plenty more potential for her abuse. I could only feel her pain with her; I could do nothing to ease it.

 

After that, she spent a few minutes just staring down at the floor. Eventually, she came to her senses and asked if she should pleasure me, as we had to do at bedtime. I looked at her, dishevelled and mentally unravelling. She looked like it would be the final straw. I looked at her tearful face and remembered the cum still inside me. I shuddered knowing that that filth was still there, setting; hardening within me; an evil surprise for anyone who went down on me. I simply couldn’t bring myself to make poor Lisa lick that. There was no way that I would be able to become aroused given the horrors that we had both endured that day. Consumed with pity, I told her that she had been through enough and was sure that she had done more than enough pleasuring for one day. She had looked into my eyes and had dropped he head to my bosom, burying into me. She had kissed me and I cradled her, I would try and protect her. In no time, thoroughly burnt out, we both went to sleep, in each others arms.