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Celia. What a woman. Long slender legs, pure skin, and womanly figure. Ripe for the plucking. Twenty-seven and sure of herself, she walks with the grace of a ballerina, long auburn hair cascading over her delicate shoulders, almost reaching the soft rise of her perfect arse. God, I wish I was like her. She stole my lover, and I hate her. But how can I be so angry at such a beauty?

Simple. I want revenge.

We were lying in bed, my body pressed against Kali’s back. I was trying to encourage a response along the lines of the coital, blowing in her ear, whispering my fingertips on her skin, but never expected, “Oh Lee-lee… Mmm… Don’t stop…”

Being christened Tay, I felt a little lost for words. Unabated, my fingers stuttered their way from her hips, over her stomach to gently cup her breast. She sighed (as she is want to do) and moaned, “Oh Lee-lee”.

Again, I was rather taken aback. Who did she think was touching her? Who the hell is this ‘Lee-lee’? Growing suspicious and angry, I pinched her nipple hard. I expected a slap in the face, not, “Harder!”

Shocked and astounded, I rolled her over and saw the dreamy, sexy face she gets when she has wet dreams. I tweaked her hardening nipple harder and she gasped. I can only imagine how wet she was, as she grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into what would be our last kiss.

Passionate, tongues fighting and mashing against one another… I had never had this before.

It must have been my lack of enthusiasm that told her I wasn’t who she thought I was. She thrust me away, eyes wide and scared that she was found out.

“Tay?” Her innocent schoolgirl voice, always so convincing, would not work this time. Sitting at the foot of my bed, I just shook my head. “Get out.” I sighed to the bedspread.

I heard her get up, dressed and out the door.

I even heard her start her shitbox of a car and drive off into the night.

“Fuck.” I started crying.

A couple of days later, mutual friends collected her belongings from the lawn and surrounding gardens. I think my crowning glory was the butt plug in the Padrè’s water feature. Apparently, all he said was, “A woman scorned…”

So, when I went out to point out things they missed (her leopard print g-string hanging on the rose bush, for example), I saw my best friend Stan come visit with a basket of chocolate and a head full with gossip. I left Kali’s underlings to their scrabbling and made coffee, listening to the underworld of the ‘burbs bubbling from Stanley’s mouth. There were the usual hetero-homo tensions, the unfaithful husbands and wives, new babies, new neighbours etc, but he kept skirting the issue. When he began repeating, I sighed “Enough already! Just tell me?”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath, “Lee-lee is the pet name for Celia Deline Rowena Capiella. She is also known as CC, princess of darkness, spawn of evil, and other more flattering aliases. She is a serial adulteress. She devours taken women. She appears to be searching for someone in particular, but no one’s ever close enough for long enough to find out whom. She scares me. I want to be her.”

Great. My best friend wants to be her. Okay, so he also wants to be Cher, so he’s not so good an example. I wonder if this Lee-lee is with Kali. What makes her so special? What did they do? In imagining them together, this stranger and Kali, I began to feel aroused. Their bodies entwined, soft skin touching soft, feminine skin…

“Tay, snap out of it!”

“I need to see her.”

“What?”

“I need to see her” I repeated.

So here I am, sitting naked on the edge of a mahogany desk in the lions den. Celia is lying on the marble before me, trying to persuade me to fuck again. I don’t know how I got to this.

Yes I do. I became obsessed with getting back at her. I found out as much as I could, took as many photos as inconspicuously as I could. Celia Rowena Capiella, born 18th September, 1977, lives in a lavish mansion in the fashionable district. No children, no husband, money supplied by a successful boutique ceramics business. Her only constant companion, apart from the money, is George the butler.

She loves jewellery, hates computers. Loves plants but hates the colour green. Loves seducing attached women but will not stand for chaos in her house, thus George the butler. No one knows where he came from, or even his last name. He is the one who cleans, presses and folds her life when she’s off doing something more fun. He’s the only one the girls see in the morning.

I heard she had a financial attachment to Eve, one of the more prominent gay clubs in the area, and decided to take a more animated interest in my community. Four hours and an entire wardrobe later, I was on my way. I must admit, I was looking a bit of alright. The red tartan skirt and black fuck-me boots showed off my firm legs and butt perfectly, and the black vinyl keyhole top with zip and padlock detail left little to the imagination.

My armour on, ready for battle, I danced with every hot amasya escort young thing I could find, took everything on offer, kissed and groped anything within grasp.

Mid-song, I felt a finger trail down the back of my neck. Gentle, sensual. I stopped dead, turned and saw her. The photos didn’t do her justice. Her liquid brown eyes, her crimson pout, the way her hair falls… I held my breath, waiting for her to speak. She smiled, shocking the life out of me. “Would you like a drink, Tay?”

She strode off the dance floor, leaving me to make a decision. Watching her walk, her ripe, firm arse hypnotised my feet into following. I found her sitting on the mezzanine, two glasses in front of her, one Baileys on the rocks, the other…

“A Harvey Wallbanger, for you.” She laughed. I must have looked stunned. “You’re not the only one that’s been spying, my dear. I’ve actually had my eye on you a lot longer than you may think.”

I took a step away, shocked. What else does she know about me? What is she talking about?

“Tay Foster, why don’t you sit with me? I can assure you, I only bite when requested. But that’s not the kind of kink you enjoy, is it?”

I sat in silence, still too shocked to run or speak. She told me everything she found out about me, from my first love to what colour underwear I like. I couldn’t say or do anything but drink and listen. When she stopped, she must have asked me something I didn’t quite catch.

“Sorry, what?”

“Tay, I do wish you’d listen. I said you will be coming home with me tonight.”

I didn’t know what else to do. Between the endless lines of drink, drugs and the intoxicating sight of her cleavage, I wasn’t about to argue.

I was guided through and out of the club into a limo by the goddess in chocolate, form-fitting Armani. On our way, nothing was said. She looked out her window; I looked like a lost puppy. A quickly sobering, slightly bedraggled puppy. Her door opened and a hand assisted her out. Ah, George.

“Are you having second thoughts, Tay?”

I woke from my daze and quickly and ungainly shuffled out her side. George was walking her up the stairs and into the foyer. I stopped in the doorway, stunned by the dazzling white of the marble… everything. Marble stairs, marble walls… if I was sober enough, I would have looked for marble in the chandeliers. Celia came to me, took my arm and steered me into the library. The walls were lined with old leather-bound texts. A huge fireplace was the only source of light on the antique lounge setting. She sat and urged me to sit next to her. I sat on the edge and she laughed.

“Relax. I’ll only hurt you if you want me to.”

She reached behind me and touched my neck, sending shivers through me. A gasp escaped my lips, and my quim quivered. Her hand lead its way down my back, along the outside of my thigh and slowly back up the inside. I closed my eyes and whimpered, praying for her to go higher, to brush against my aching pussy, to enter me, when she stopped. My eyes snapped open to find her taking off her suit. “Can I help?” I whispered hoarsely. She shook her head.

“You have to watch.” Agonised and excited, I watched her slowly strip until all that was left was a silver crucifix dangling between her exquisite breasts.

“Up.”

I stood.

“Where is the key?”

I gave it willingly. She unlocked the padlock at my neck and unzipped my top. Discarding it, her hand went to my lower back and down over my arse, pulling me close.

“Are you wearing underwear?” I nodded. Her hands quickly disappeared under my skirt. I moaned when I felt her begin to pull my now soaked g-string down. As they reached my ankles, I could feel her inhaling my scent. I stepped away and let her hold my underwear to her face, breathing me in. She threw them away and clutched my hips with desperate hands. Celia Capiella, my enemy, was about to make most exquisite love to me. She drew me close, touching as much skin as she could. I squirmed and shivered at every sensation, until she reached between us to finally, finally touch me. I nearly fell. Her fingers inched their way further inside as her thumb gently stroked my nub.

“I know how much you like this, Tay. I know everything my like, want and need. Shall I show you what I know?” she whispered as her left hand found my sensitive cheeks. Moaning, whimpering, drowning in the sensations, I cared only for her hands, the journey to release. Her left hand shifted to the small of my back, guiding me to the arm of the lounge I had not long sat on. Awkwardly, I was sat on the arm and slowly, her tongue replaced her thumb. Oh, that tongue… A more gifted, more talented mouth I have never experienced. Now soft, now fast, constantly changing, bringing me closer to the edge with every lick.

Then, she stopped. After a few seconds, I realised what had happened.

“What’s wrong?” I asked timidly, still reeling from her sudden withdrawal.

“Up.” I wobbled my way to standing, openly loving her dominance. escort amasya She grabbed my arm, roughly leading me around to behind the lounge chair. Letting go, she spun me to face the chair and pushed my head forward. I was on my tiptoes, bent over the back of what I realised was a very sturdy couch. My face was against the leather cushions, my bum in the air and my moist slit exposed. Altogether a compromising position. I felt Celia move behind me, brushing my butt with her breasts and moving lower to drag her rock-hard nipple along my clit. I shuddered, becoming more wet then ever. Again, she entered me, at first with three, then four fingers, not touching my clit at all. I needed that, and she knew it, so I leaned my weight on my left elbow and reached my right hand back so I could do it myself. First I teased myself by circling my sensitive nub, then gently stroked it as she twisted and pumped her fingers into me. Again, she stopped dead.

“Stay where you are.”

I stayed. I kept teasing myself, wondering what she was doing. I heard a very familiar sound that I couldn’t quite place until I felt the cold lube touch my already wet slit. She knew everything, then!

“Your ex told me that the only thing to get you off was this. I hope I do it right.”

Ever so slowly, she inched her way in. Her entire fist was twisting and flexing inside me. I slowly picked up speed on my clit, not wanting this delicious sensation to stop.

“Oh yeah, just like that…” Moaning, whimpering, quivering, I was lost in my own impending orgasm. My pussy tightened around her, coming closer to the edge, begging for more.

“Faster!”

I was so close when she leaned over my body, mashing her breasts against me and her hand pumping in and out as she punch-fucked my greedy cunny.

“You’re my horny little slut now.” She whispered.

“Just fuck me harder!” I snarled. Her pace quickened, I was so close. Then, she grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me upright onto her fist. I screamed, my body exploding. Her hand pushed out of me, I fell to the floor, lying like a discarded blanket. My juices leaked through my skirt and I blacked out to the sound of footsteps.

Saturday morning I came to, completely naked and smelling of sex. The sun was up, I could smell coffee brewing. Breakfast? I sat up, realising I was on a huge bed in an equally large room. I made my way to sit on the edge, looking around my new surroundings. There were cupboards and peculiar fixtures everywhere, and an ornately carved door in a wall covered in curtains. I covered myself in the bed sheet (white Egyptian cotton, soft as a kitten) and wandered over to the closest cabinet. Inside there were drawers full with sex toys and costumes. I felt eyes on me, and looked over my shoulder to see Celia still nude. My knees became weak.

“Awake at last. Are you hungry?” her skin glowed as she turned and lead me to the dining room. A feast lay before me. I ate, expecting to be asked to dress and leave when I finished. Still in the sheet, I felt very naked.

“Uh, where are my clothes?” I asked timidly as I put down my empty mug.

“Oh, I think they’re still in the study, unless George has moved them. You’re not leaving just yet, are you?” She sounded a little hurt.

“No, I suppose not.” I had no idea how to react but to go along with whatever she wanted.

“Please, let me take you back to bed. You look exhausted.” I allowed myself to be led back, thoroughly bored with the game and in desperate need of a shower. We found my clothes and boots cleaned and folded on the bed, with a note apologising for the wait. I guess he heard me.

“Just through that door is a bathroom, if you need it. I’ll be waiting.” She directed me through the door between the curtains into an enormous bathroom. A bath big enough to swim laps in was in the centre of it with a line of showerheads directly above it. I turned them on, shucked off the sheet and got under the rain-like flow. Water cascaded over my body, washing away the grime and sweat of last night’s activities. With soapy hands, I chased the water as it ran down my tired body. Thinking about last night, my fingers found their way to my pussy, touching and teasing myself. I sat on the edge, spreading my lips to plunge my fingers deeply into my aching hole. I suddenly realised the wall of the door I came through was covered in mirrors. Here I was, my naked, wet body reflected back at me. Seeing my hand inside me, my hair plastered to my breasts, oh… I nearly came. Then I came to my senses and stopped, inwardly scolding myself for such behaviour. I found a fresh towel on a bench, dried and wrapped it around me. I realised I smelled like sex again, but it was better, fresher than before. I walked back into the bedroom where Celia said she’d be waiting, to find her gone. I shrugged, dressed and walked back to the kitchen. Deserted. I tried to remember the way out, and thought I was heading in the right direction.

I opened a door to discover Celia and amasya escort bayan George fucking on the billiards table.

“Uh, sorry.” I muttered as I hurriedly closed the door. I saw a familiar pot plant and headed for it, then finally saw the front door. The moment I touched the handle, alarm bells rang I my head. She was bending him over the table. He sounded acutely feminine. Nothing was making sense to me, and I couldn’t move for all the white noise in my head. I felt a finger draw a line down the back of my neck.

“Now that you know Georgie’s little secret, would you like to join us?” I felt her arm encircle my waist and lead me back to the dark room I had run from.

My mind was still trying to understand when I saw ‘Georgie’ doing what I had in the shower not ten minutes before. Her fingers glistened with the pungent juice she had just pulled from herself. She offered them to me and my desire took over. I greedily licked and sucked them dry, while Celia undressed me once again.

Once nude, I pushed her away and dove between Georgie’s thighs, desperate to taste her from the source. I was lost, devouring her, my tongue searching every fold for her essence. As Georgie leaned back on her elbows, I plunged three of my fingers into her. She moaned and arched her back, taking more of my fingers in, and ground her clit into my mouth. Celia was standing behind me once again, touching my back and kneading my cheeks, turning me on. Georgie bucked and begged for more. I was about to oblige her when Celia pulled me away and climbed onto the table. It was dark enough for me to not see the strap-on until Georgie climbed on top of her and slowly eased herself onto the thick plastic cock. Just watching her ride this woman, her small breasts jiggling with the effort, made me ravenous with lust. I leaned over to kiss Celia when she grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into the same kiss my ex left me with; passionate, strong and hungry. We broke apart, a line of saliva joining our lips for a second. The scent and sound of sex filled the room. I needed to be fucked.

“Sit on my face.” Celia whispered to me, a little smile playing on her lips. I quickly scrambled onto the table, eager for my turn. I swung my leg over her head, and was met with her amazing tongue. I reached out to Georgie, stroking her breasts and shoulders and, moving down her stomach, stroked the top of her pubic hair. She moaned, grinding herself onto the toy. I moved my fingertips closer to her clit, teasing her until she pulled on my arm. I obliged, finally rubbing her in exactly the right spot. Her breathing became faster; she became more vocal and ground down on the toy and my hand harder. Celia’s tongue picked up the pace, wanting me to come with Georgie, but she wasn’t quick enough as Georgie started to buck and scream. I put my other hand around her waist as she started to slide off Celia.

I held her close and gently laid her down on the table beside Celia. I got off her and leaned over George, looking into her eyes. Her hands traced up my sides and pulled me into a gentle, loving kiss. Our bodies touched, sending shivers through me again. I still hadn’t come yet. We were entwined, touching as much skin as we could, hands and tongues anywhere and everywhere. I could feel her thigh pressing against my mound. I rode it like a bucking bronco. I needed her, I needed release. Her arms folded around me and pulled me to her. We kissed again. She broke it to kiss her way from my lips to my ear.

“I have a surprise for you.” she whispered. The sensation of her breath on my ear sends shivers down my spine even now.

George dropped her knee, pulling it away from my dripping pussy. I reacted like a spoilt child and started to get very angry. I hadn’t noticed that Celia had left until she walked back through the door carrying a large box. I wasn’t in the mood for surprises, or anything but sex for that matter, so I tried to get George’s attention back. She merely pushed me off her onto my side, and sat up on the table staring at Celia. Celia gave her the box and smiled at me.

“Just what the fuck is going on? I was expecting a lot more than just teasing, for fuck’s sake!” I spat at her.

“Patience, my love. Open your present.” Celia chided as George proffered me the box.

“Fuck the present, and fuck you. I’m going home!” I jumped down and started to dress. I had had enough of this teasing. They both tried to calm me, but I was set on leaving. I was so frustrated I finally decided to go barefoot than have to tame my laces. Boots in hand, mood set on ‘Seriously Pissed Off’, I marched out of the house, down the long driveway, out the huge wrought iron gates and in the general direction of my house. Neither tried to follow past the door I had first burst through, which disappointed me a little. I would have hoped they’d at least try to act hurt.

The day after I left, a courier brought me a package with no return address and no name but mine. It was still sitting on the coffee table three days later. I couldn’t open it (out of spite), but I couldn’t throw it away (out of curiosity). What’s in it? Why did she still want me to have it even when she wouldn’t try to stop me from leaving? I’d caught myself looking at it a few times. Curiosity was getting the best of me. On the fifth day, I gave in. I opened the note.

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