[My thanks once again to estragon for editing my prose.
I appreciate all the feedback and love hearing from you. Please write. I love the suggestions, but may or may not incorporate them in the story. I have no control of where my Muse leads me. She is a wicked domme. 🙂
-Tricia]
Session XI: Caught in a Web
I woke up on Wednesday morning to the vibration of my iPhone. I slid my finger across it to open it up and the Therapy App was awake. It had three messages for me: “Call in sick for work today,” was the first. Then, “Dr. Gupta’s appointment has been moved to tomorrow at six-thirty. Make an excuse to be out all evening.” I gulped. The last message was, “Press here when everyone is gone.”
I feigned illness to Bob when he woke up and went downstairs in my bathrobe to make sure that the kids got off to school. I wasn’t going to make lunches if I was “sick,” so I told them to buy lunch on their accounts. By eight I was alone. I picked up my iPhone and pulled up the Therapy App. I pressed the button.
“Have you showered?” the App immediately asked. I pushed the “No,” button.
“Do not shower. Do not apply deodorant or perfume,” came back to me, with a button for “Acknowledged.”
When I pushed that, the instructions came back in a smaller font. “Your next Therapy session is at 10AM. Your therapist is Caroline Nail,” and it gave an address. “Pack a bag with jeans, underwear and shoes. On your way to the session, wear only one of your husband’s shirts. Unbutton it to your navel.” I gulped once more. Thank god my car was in the garage. “Drink plenty of water; hydrate. Do not be late.”
The address was two towns away. When I looked it up on the computer, Google showed me a horse farm. It would take me a half hour to get there, so I had an hour and a half before I needed to leave. I went to get some water to drink.
At 8:30, the App made my phone vibrate again. “Strip naked,” it read. “Do 25 jumping jacks. Jog in place for five minutes. Do 20 stomach crunches. Drink more water.” I stared at it for a moment in disbelief; it had been forever since I’d done that much exercise. But I took off my robe and my nightgown and did what I’d been told. I finished in about fifteen minutes, sweating profusely and breathing heavily. I needed more water and I needed to pee.
I caught my breath and took care of the bathroom and getting more water. At 9:00 the App buzzed me again. “You should still be naked. 20 more crunches. Five minutes jogging in place. Touch your toes 25 times. Drink more.”
God, I thought. I already stink. What are they thinking?
I was still naked. I went through the exercises as instructed, then caught my breath and got more water. I was standing next to the kitchen sink at 9:20 when the phone vibrated again. I groaned. I couldn’t do more exercises. I had to leave soon.
“Eight ounces of water. Now,” the App told me.
I wanted to object. I was already starting to float. But I filled up another glass of water and drank it down quickly. I needed to get a shirt and get into the car.
I sniffed my underarms as I moved quickly to my bedroom. I never left the house this ripe. And I blushed when I realized I needed to shave too. But there wasn’t any time for that. I grabbed one of Bob’s shirts quickly and pulled it on, buttoning a few buttons on it while I headed back to the kitchen where my purse and keys lay on the counter.
I got into the car and opened my iPhone for directions to Caroline Nail’s farm. I tried to arrange the tail of Bob’s shirt so it was between my sex and the fabric of the car seat. I didn’t need to leave any spots. Like spankings, the embarrassment of being exposed was making my pussy wet.
I was decidedly nervous while driving. What if I got pulled over? I thought. How would I explain this? I guessed I needed to make sure I wasn’t. I was immensely glad that the minivan had me seated up higher than a sedan would have. I concentrated on looking normal and getting to where I was going.
When I was almost there, I noticed I seemed to be following another another minivan. It took me a moment before I realized that I had seen it before. When I’d left the rectory after my session last Friday, that minivan had been parked next to mine.
I gulped for the third time today.
As Google had revealed, we were headed to a horse farm.
“Horseshoe Nail Farm,” seemed to be grass covered, with fenced-in fields on either side of the road. I could see five or six horses in the fields, heads down, quietly eating the grass. In one field a rider was putting a horse through its paces, riding in red jacket and black helmet. There was a big, old, white farm house and two barns: a large modern one of some kind of metal and a somewhat smaller traditional red wooden one.
I followed the other car — was her name Lucy? — into the parking lot. We parked next to each other, in spots right in front of a woman apparently waiting for us. The woman was in her early forties, with copper colored hair hanging loose on her shoulders and a serious expression on her face. uşak escort She was clearly in shape from working the horses. She was wearing brown leather pants with a white silk top. There didn’t appear to be a bra under her blouse. She had sandals on her feet.
I looked over at the woman in the other car, then dropped my keys in my purse, grabbed it and the bag of clothes I’d packed and got out of the car.
“Leave your purses in the cars,” the woman in the leather pants said flatly. “Bring your clothes.” I had almost closed the door, but I opened it back up again and tossed in my purse, then closed the door. I walked to the front of my car.
“Drop the bags. Which one of you is Lucy?” our host asked. I looked to my left at the woman from the other car.
She responded, “me.” Lucy was also wearing a man’s shirt and nothing else. Also in her forties, she had short blonde hair and a few extra pounds. When she glanced at me, I saw she had blue eyes. Like mine, her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed yet today.
“And you must be Pam. I’m Caroline Nail,” the woman in front of us continued. Her tone was strict, like she was used to being obeyed. “You will call me ‘ma’am’. Erica Landry is out riding and will be joining me for your therapy shortly. You will call her Mrs. Landry. Take off your shirts.”
I unbuttoned mine and pulled it off. Lucy hesitated however. “Take it off now, cunt. I will not repeat myself again.” Lucy jumped and pulled her shirt over her head without unbuttoning it. “Leave them on your bags,” Caroline said.
She looked us up and down appraisingly. “Aren’t you two cunts sorry excuses for women? Don’t you ever exercise?”
We stood there mutely. “I asked you a question. Don’t you ever exercise, cunts?”
“No,” I stammered. Lucy’s “no” was a second later.
“I told you bitches what to call me. Try again. Don’t you ever exercise, cunts?”
“No, ma’am,” our answers were synchronized now.
“Well, I expect a different answer if your sorry asses are ever in front of me again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” we answered.
She stepped up close to me and grabbed a tuft of my pubic hair. “You probably haven’t trimmed since summer. Am I right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, that had better change too by the time I see you again. Raise your arms. Phew, you stink. And all that stubble. You need a shave there too. What’s wrong with you, cunt? Don’t you care how you look?”
“Nothing’s wrong, ma’am. I do care, ma’am.”
“Then why haven’t you shaved?”
“I don’t know, ma’am, I haven’t had time.”
“Well, at least we know you don’t color your hair.” She let go of me and stepped in front of Lucy, grabbing her pubic hair. “Well, cunt, you’ve trimmed, but do you think this black looks good with your blonde hair on top?”
“I don’t know ma’am,” Lucy said, “I didn’t think of it, ma’am.”
“Well think about it. Raise your arms. Ah, good, you’ve shaved.” Caroline let go of her pubes and slapped Lucy’s thick belly. “But look at this flab. Tisk, tisk.”
“Ma’am?” Lucy’s voice was hesitant.
“What is it, bitch?”
“Ma’am, I um, I um….”
“Get it out, cunt.”
“I have to pee, ma’am.”
“Yes, well, you were instructed to drink heavily. Go ahead. You too, Pamela.”
Lucy looked around, trying to spot a bathroom. “Where, ma’am?”
“Right there, on the grass.”
“Right here, outside?”
“Yes, bitch. Right where I tell you. Both of you. Squat and piss. Face each other.”
“Ma’am,” I said, “I don’t have to….”
“I don’t care. You’d better piss now. You won’t get a chance later. Now. Both of you. And face each other.”
I turned toward Lucy as I squatted down on the grass. She was already squatting, her feet apart, a pained expression on her face.
“What are you waiting for, bitches?”
“I can’t,” Lucy said.
“Well, then you’ll stay there until you do.”
I tried hard to relax my bladder and managed it. My piss started draining out of me onto the grass. Lucy saw and I guess that helped her. Her stream squirted out of her like from a hose, wildly spraying between and sometimes onto her feet. I couldn’t stop watching her, staring right between her legs as the liquid drained from her. I kept thinking back to Natalie yesterday and how she watched me so intently.
I don’t know why, but I found it strangely erotic. What was wrong with me?
As we finished, the pee sputtering out as we squeezed out the last of it, Lucy and I looked at each other. Our faces blushed bright red in embarrassment.
“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Ms. Nail said. “Now, get up.” We both stood. I wished I had some paper to wipe with, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen. Ms. Nail pointed into the middle of the field. “See that jumping fence there? The blue one with the white stripes?”
“Yes, ma’am,” we said.
“I want you both to jog around there — neither one of you look like you can run. Jog there, then around the back the big barn, then meet me in the red barn. Go. Now.”
Neither uşak escort bayan of us wasted any time. We began to jog the course she ordered.
“You were at…at the rectory…on Friday,” Lucy panted as she jogged naked next to me.
Neither one of us, I thought, were in any kind of shape. “Yes,” I said. “I heard…your spanking.”
“I could tell…,” Lucy replied, “that you’d been…spanked too.” She gulped for breath. “How long…have you been seeing…seeing Reverend Rusk?”
“That was my…first time. You?”
“My third…” We reached the blue horse gate. From across the field we heard and then saw the galloping hooves of a horse approaching. As it quickly got closer I was all too aware that I was naked out here where anyone could see me. Naked and running with another naked woman through the horse fields.
As we turned around the far end of the gate, the rider we’d seen earlier thundered up and jumped the gate with her horse. We stopped, totally startled by the beauty of the jump and the power of the horse. The rider looked back over her shoulder at us, turned her horse and pulled up in front of us, scowling down at Lucy and I from her perch.
On top of such a muscular animal you could tell that she herself was a muscular woman. In her thirties and African-American, her tightly curled hair was held close to her head by the black riding helmet. Her riding pants were leather and tucked into leather boots. Her red jacket was the traditional wool and she held a riding crop in her gloved left hand, which rested on her hip. The horse’s reins were in her right hand.
“What are you two whores doing just standing there? Weren’t you supposed to be running?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Sorry ma’am.” I started to jog again.
“Wait, bitch. Get back where you were.”
In my haste to comply, I heedlessly stepped in some droppings. “Shit,” I cursed and started to wipe my foot on cleaner grass.
“Stop that, bitch, or I’ll make you roll in it. What are your names, whores?”
“Lucy, ma’am,” my sister therapy patient said.
“I’m Pamela, ma’am.”
“You must have met Caroline. Did she tell you who I am?”
“Yes, ma’am. Mrs. Landry,” I said.
“Very good,” the woman said, then she directed her horse to move so it was almost right on top of us. I wanted to back up but I was afraid to move. Somehow being in the presence of this powerful animal made me even more aware of my nakedness and my nakedness made me more aware of the animal’s power. “Then she told you,” Mrs. Landry yelled, “what you should call me. I’m not ‘ma’am’. Don’t make that mistake again.”
“Yes, Mrs. Landry,” we replied in unison.
I felt Lucy trembling next to me.
“Are you afraid of my horse, cunt?” Mrs. Landry asked Lucy.
“No ma…. I mean no Mrs. Landry. Well, maybe a little.”
“Turned on by her? Don’t lie to me, bitch. Feel your cunt. Are you wet?”
Lucy reached between her legs, “Yes, Mrs. Landry. Very wet.”
“Well, isn’t that sick, getting turned on by a horse. It’s a good thing we have only fillies here. No telling what you’d get into otherwise.”
“No, Mrs. Landry. I mean, I wouldn’t do that, Mrs. Landry.”
“Feel the other bitch’s cunt, Lucy. Is she horny too?”
Lucy looked horrified. She looked up at Erica and then at me and then back at Erica. “Please don’t make me,” she said, shivering.
“I’ll make you do what ever I want, bitch,” came the angry reply. “Put your skanky-ass fingers into this other bitch’s cunt and tell me if she’s horny too.” Lucy stood frozen. Erica raised her riding crop menacingly. “Now, bitch.”
Haltingly, Lucy turned toward me and stretched her hand toward my crotch. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “Go ahead.” This was a bridge I had crossed not too long ago too. I knew what she was feeling. Like I might be poison or something, Lucy gingerly reached out her hand and touched my vulva. I shuddered in pleasure with the touch and she snapped her hand back.
Mrs. Landry kneed her horse ever so slightly, causing the mount to shift its weight toward us. “Listen to me, Lucy,” she said evenly, “Feel her cunt. Tell me how wet she is.”
Lucy reached out again and this time managed to slip her fingers inside me. They went in easily. She pulled them back almost immediately, like she’d touched a hot stove. In a way she had. I’m sure I was burning up down there.
“Well?” Erica asked impatiently.
“She’s very wet, Mrs. Landry.”
“Hah,” Erica laughed. “Two horny bitches. What are we going to do with you?” She turned her horse so it was headed toward the barn. The filly’s tail swept into each of us, first me then Lucy. Erica looked back over her shoulder. “Once more around the gate, whores. Then whatever path Caroline already gave you. I’ll see you in the barn.”
She clucked and shook the reins and the horse trotted away from us, throwing dirt up on us.
We started jogging again, making a circle around the gate before heading back toward the barns.
“I hate,” Lucy said when we were escort uşak moving again, “how wet this all makes me.” She breathed heavily for a couple of strides. “It’s like my pussy is a traitor.”
“I know,” I answered. “The first time…I got spanked…I couldn’t believe…how wet I got.”
Lucy caught her foot on something then and went sprawling in the grass and dirt and dung. I helped her up and we kept on jogging.
“Did you know,” I asked between breaths, “that…you got…turned on by… being… humiliated?”
“No…but there’s a lot…that I’ve learned…about myself.”
“Don’t I know…it,” I said. “Never thought…I’d like…eating pussy.”
She stopped then and held her hand on my arm to stop me. She turned us toward each other. “They made you…you know?”
“Lick them?” I panted. “Not really….I kind of wanted to. You haven’t?”
“No,” she said with a swallow. She wouldn’t look at me all of a sudden. “Look we’d better get going….”
We went back to running. The grass of the field gave way to a hard packed dirt path then across a gravel driveway that stung our feet and then back to dirt as we found our way inside the front of the barn.
Inside the barn, Mrs. Landry was brushing down her filly. She’d taken off her helmet and her hair stuck, sweaty, against her head. The horse was tied to the outside of a stall by her bridle. Caroline Nail was standing next to rider and horse, apparently talking. She looked up when we arrived, panting, at the door.
“About time you got here. I was afraid I’d have to send the dogs out to look for you. Come over here. Quickly.”
As we both hopped into a slow jog, Caroline looked down to her blouse, pulled the tails from her pants and unbuttoned it, top to bottom. When we stood in front of her, she slid it off her shoulders and turned to hang it on a hook on the stable divider. She turned back to us, her breasts free of restraint, standing firm and high on her chest. Her areolae were small and her nipples firmly stuck out from them. Her skin was well tanned, without any lines from a bathing suit.
It was one thing to have compared my sagging breasts with Jennifer the other day: she was only twenty-three or something like that. This woman was more my age and her breasts put mine to shame. I looked over at Lucy, who I guessed was thinking much the same thoughts.
“You two must be thirsty after that run,” Caroline said evenly. She pointed to the side, “There, have a drink.” Her hand directed us to a metal trough, about six feet long and a couple deep, about waist high, filled with water. It was clearly for the horses, but we just as clearly had no choice in the matter.
Lucy and I walked slowly to the trough and we each cupped our hands in the water to pull a drink up to our mouths.
“Not like that, you cunts,” Mrs. Landry said scornfully. “Bend over. Put your faces in it and drink.”
I looked over my shoulder at her in disbelief, but I knew she was serious. With Lucy doing likewise, I bent over the trough and tried as best as I could to lap water into my mouth like a cat or suck it up like a horse might. We were so busy that neither one of us noticed Caroline walking over and between us. The next thing I knew, I felt a hand on the back of my head as my face and half my head was pressed under water. I struggled against it, writhing back and forth, but her grip was strong and I couldn’t lift my face until she let me, some long, long seconds later.
“You two were filthy; you needed your faces washed anyway,” Caroline said cruelly as we sputtered water from our mouths and noses and tried to catch our breath. “Which one do you want, Erica?”
“I know you like the blondes, Caro. I’ll take the brunette. It’s Pammy, right?”
“Pamela, Mrs. Landry, if it pleases you.”
“No, Pammy pleases me, bitch. Give me your hands.” I lifted them to her and she grabbed both my wrists in her own strong hands. She pulled me toward the back of the barn. There she pulled me to the side of a strange contraption. It resembled a spider’s web made out of wood and rope; the rope tied in concentric hexagons around six radial lines. She roughly threw me against the side of the web and pressed into my back as she reached up and grabbed two cuffs hanging above my head and to the sides and tied to the web. As she attached my wrists to the cuffs, Lucy was pushed against me from the other side of the web and Caroline proceeded to attach her hands to cuffs that hung from that side.
The web wasn’t very dense, so Lucy and I pressed as much against each other as we did against the rope. My left breast was mashed into her right one, while my right nipple was pressed painfully into a knot in the ropes. Our bellies pressed against each other through the web and our faces were level, facing each other through an opening. When we our arms were secured, we were roughly pushed closer together and our heads were cheek to cheek, with a rope just an inch or two beneath our chins.
“Lift this foot, Pammy,” Mrs. Landry said, tapping on my right ankle. I complied as Ms. Nail said, “You too, Lucy Goosey.” I felt Lucy stiffen at the name. I lifted my foot and Mrs. Landry roughly pulled it to the side to attach it to another cuff that I couldn’t see. We repeated the maneuver with my left foot and Lucy and I were soon spread-eagled, against each other and the web.