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An hour ago, Lisa was crying, sobbing to the point of grabbing her own hair and shout to anyone who even dare to try to speak to her. If anyone could try. She was home alone, infinite class notes on her table and some more on the floor. It was finals season, she had two more exams and suddenly, all her stress and hours of over studying got to her and she broke down.
Her next exam was the day after tomorrow and she hasn't studied enough at all. She was going to fail. She knows it. There's still endless things to go over and not enough time.
Her mind gave up, she had cried all there was about this, she was tired and done for the day. She can freak out tomorrow. She needed a break from studying.
She hears the sound of keys opening the door and her girlfriend's voice a moment later, "Lisa?"
Finally.
"Coming," she rushes to the door, "Hi, how was your day?"
"Fine, a lot of work, had to stay a little longer" she sighs, "it's Wednesday, can't they go bother someone else? Assholes," Marcy complains while she puts down her bag and keys. Lisa takes her coat and hangs it up.
Marcy walks to the kitchen to get a cookie from the jar, she takes one and closes it again, not offering one to Lisa. There's a silence as she takes a bite and Lisa takes the opportunity to speak. "Yeah, it's been a stressful day for me too. I mean, I have an exam coming up and I think I'm gonna fail, and everything's—"
"Right, teenager's problems. I wish my biggest problem was an exam grade," she snorts. "Meanwhile, I got to keep up with a job, and doing what my boss tells me, and not complain about his stupid ideas, and not yell and fucking Claire to shut up, and do groceries, and clean the house—"
"Hey, I clean the house!"
"Well, you don't always to the best job, darling. And don't fucking interrupt me."
"I'm sorry. I'll do better for you."
Marcy doesn't answer, she finishes her cookie, leaving crumbs on the table and walking to the couch on the living room.
Her girlfriend is right, there are bigger problems. But she still can't stop thinking about the exam and the anxiety that comes with it.
Lisa joins her after quickly cleaning the crumbs, but instead of sitting next to her partner, she sits on her knees on the floor between her legs. And she asks something very dumb.
"Can I eat you out?"
Because Marcy sees right through her.
She raises her eyebrow, "Is my pleasure your main concern?"
"Yes— Yes, of course!"
"Fucking liar! You know I hate when people lie to me— to my face."
"I-I'm sorry, I just need to get out of my head, I—!" She is cut by the sound of her face being slapped and not any other sound follows, she knows better than to speak again.
For a couple of minutes, Marcy scrolls on her phone, then she starts texting someone. With Lisa at her feet, quiet, behaved, with her left cheek a little bit more red than the right, less noticeable from the fact that Lisa is blushing all the way to her neck.
Fifteen more minutes pass, and she is still texting. Why is she still texting them? Is it still the same person? Should Lisa be doing more? She shouldn't have tried to eat her out. But she would still have an orgasm, why does it matter that she was n— That is stupid. So stupid. Does she hear herself? Lisa deserved that slap. Marcy deserves better. She will do better for her.
Marcy puts her phone down and when she looks down at her girlfriend she sees the tears in her eyes, threatening to fall. "Do you want to try again?"
"Yes, please, Ma'am," Marcy gives her a short head nod, "Can I make you feel good— Can I worship you how you deserve? Please?"
Marcy smirks and leans back, making herself comfortable. Like her throne. "Yes, you can, pet. Strip first."
She strips quickly, starting with a old T-shirt she pulls over her head, then her sweatpants and panties at once; no bra.
The younger woman then crawls back and lowers herself, placing a kiss on her left shoe. "Thank you," she says, and kisses it again, a little to the left, "thank you," she repeats, and again and again, kissing the whole shoe, a very expensive looking black high heel.
And this feeling, to Lisa, is heaven. The feeling of being able to give your heart to someone and it being recognized. Accepted. Desired.
She changes to her right foot, and when she's done covering her feet with kisses, she continues the process up her legs — covered with her pants —, until she reaches her knees, alternating between legs.
Lisa places a last kiss to her right knee — "Thank you" — and her hands grab and feel up her upper legs, her tights; she let's out a breathed moan. Damn.
She spends minutes making out (you can't really call it anything else) with Marcy's thighs, leaving dark spots on the fabric of her pants, and Lisa knows she'll get in trouble for it, but can't stop herself. Her legs are strong, powerful; make her want to spend the afternoon buried in them and the night humping them.
"I can feel your disgusting drool through the pants," she inhales deeply. "Get them off. And my shoes."
"Yes, Ma'am, I'm sorry," she says as she carefully takes one high heel and then the other.
"No, you're not, slut. You think I don't know you?" She laughs, fondly. Lisa unfastens her belt, unbuttons her pants, and slides them off, but before going any further, she stops and looks up at Marcy. "Everything, yes. Why would I stay with my underwear on?" And with that, Lisa takes both off, leaving Marcy bare from the waist down.
Lisa's eyes stay focused — unintentionally — on the now unhidden pussy. "Now, listen up, pet," Marcy's fingers lift her head, making her look up at her. "You're going to finger me, two fingers is enough, so get your other hand and your mouth away from me, understand?"
She perks up at being allowed to finally touch her. "Yes, I understand."
"And I don't want any of last time's bullshit. I let you have your way because you were entertaining me, but you got dumb too fast, you know I like to have my way with you first."
Last time, Lisa got too lost in her mind while on her knees and started humping her leg. Marcy did make fun of her for it. She got an orgasm out of it, but it also pissed Marcy off, when she could barely focus on anything else. 'Like a proper dog,' she had taunt.
"Yes, I know, it won't happen again. I am sorry for last time, I wa—"
"Shut up and get to work, yes?"
And so she does, her right hand meets the wetness already present around her folds, giving away how much she enjoys torturing her girlfriend. Lisa's middle and ring fingers find their way easily into Marcy. She takes a deep breath, "yeah…"
The younger woman starts working with her fingers, curving them while fucking them in and out, but she knows her partner, and doesn't touch her clit yet, no, she focuses on that spot inside her. And she is successful, if the noises Marcy makes are any proof.
"Fuck," she moans, her breathing is deep and quick. "Wait, go slower, make it last."
Lisa wishes she could use her other hand to support herself in Marcy's leg, or use her mouth to kiss her inner thigh; she doesn't even have to touch her pussy, she just wants to touch her. But Lisa doesn't remember if the instruction was to not touch or mouth her as in any part of her body, or just in there. She prefers to play safe; she puts her hand behind her back.
Her pace has slowed down, but it's not slow per say. Marcy let's out a louder moan when Lisa finally presses her hand palm into her clit and rubs it on it.
"Shit, fu-ck," her breathing is broken and loud, "don't stop. Such a good— good little thing you are for me, fuck," she lifts her hips to press herself harder into Lisa hand. Lisa breaths out with the praise, feels her girlfriend's hips roll into her, and she curves her fingers deeper inside, knowing she is close, wanting her to feel the best she has ever felt.
Marcy hips move faster as she orgasms, she rides it out, and melts back into the couch, catching her breath. Her eyes lock with Lisa's wide ones, as if she saw an angel.
Without notice, Marcy stands up, "Come," and leaves the room. It's obvious she expects her to follow — it's obvious she know she will follow; she doesn't look back.
Lisa was only a few steps behind her, but when she gets to the bedroom, she is already sitting on the bed, with a finger pointing to the floor between her legs, like she has been waiting for a while.
Lisa loved being on her knees for Marcy.
She gets down, but doesn't sit on her feet like on the living room. She looks up at her. Marcy supports herself with her hands in the bed, sitting back; her chin high. She looks down at her.
Marcy's mouth is open, her tongue licks her canine and then her lips. She moves forward and grabs Lisa's jaw and initiates a intense kiss; Lisa's head tilts back with a moan and she feels a deep feeling of devotion take over her mind.
Without realizing, her hands break from behind her and find Marcy's knees and use them to make herself higher — to get closer to Marcy. She smiles mid kiss and with her free hand pushes her back down by her shoulder. "Don't get greedy now, pet," she says when she breaks the kiss. She looks at her face: her eyes tracking her whole face, eyes, lips, neck; her eyebrows frowned like she can't quite believe she's real, like she's begging; her lips parted and red. Her breathing is deep and visible from the way her naked chest moves. She swallows.
Marcy kisses her again, dirtier, her tongue moves in her mouth as if she's trying to find a spot she hasn't before.
Lisa gets drunk on the kiss, she melts on Marcy's hands — one still on her jaw, the other running from her shoulder to the side of her neck. It just stays there, rubbing. It moves to grab it from the back next, underneath her hair. It moves up, caressing between her hair. Lisa feels a shudder all over her body.
There is no better feeling than this — being here, under Marcy's hands, being kissed by her, being allowed to be on her knees for her, to worship her. And she's grateful, proud, that she's the one here; Marcy could've chosen anyone, but it's Lisa who she let be her devotee.
A slow tear runs down her cheek, meeting Marcy's hand. "Are you crying already?" The hardness is clear in her voice, but it doesn't seem to bother Lisa, who just looks at her wholeheartedly.
It takes an instant for her thoughts to come back, she slightly shakes her head, looks down as quickly wipes the tear away; not embarrassed, but she knows it's humiliating — it was unprovoked, Marcy wasn't hitting her, she was barely touching her. Or it should be, she should feel humiliated, but… Marcy has such a hold of her, that even just thinking about it has her crying. Why is that a bad thing?
Lisa looks up at her again, the small tears in her eyes making her eyelashes more prominent. She sees something wild in Marcy's eyes, she doesn't hide her hunger, making Lisa inhale deeply. Lisa decides to provoke her a bit: instead of her face looking up to her, the faces forward and locks eyes with her through her eyelashes; she licks her lips and keeps her mouth partially open.
Marcy scoffs, "Slut," and when Lisa smiles Marcy slaps her again, on the same cheek, harder than before, or maybe she's just more sensitive this time. Her head doesn't turn, she was expecting it, she wanted it, it hurt more if she didn't move. "It's not a fucking compliment, bitch." She takes her chin and turns her head, analyzing the redness spreading once again. "Get on the bed."
Lisa moves swiftly, laying with her head on the pillows. Marcy sits by her side, her hand immediately trailing down her stomach until she reaches her pussy. Her fingers pass though the dark hairs and find the wetness there.
"Holy shit," she exclaims, with no surprise in her voice, just amazement. Lisa opens her eyes, she didn't even realized she'd closed them. Marcy passes her fingers gathering an amount of the fluid pooled there. "You're dripping, darling," she hold the fingers in front of her face, and before Lisa can think of anything to say back, she has two fingers shoved in her mouth.
She licks the fingers clean, without second though — without any thoughts at all —, whimpering around them. When she has her tongue between the fingers, they disappear. She feels them again on her pussy, but this time, they enter her without warning.
She whines, Marcy's fingers work inside her, getting noisy sighs out of her. She doesn't hold back her noises, she knows it's the purpose of Marcy fingering her — she's going to make her come and do it again, just to hear her desperate and tortured noises; there's no other reason for it but to show her power over Lisa. Not that she's complaining.
And quickly enough, Lisa is overwhelmed with pleasure, her hips move, up, down, left, deeper in the bed, up, right, her hands that started by her side, are next to her head. Her whole body is unable to stop quiet. The moans are louder, some of them try to come with a word but without success.
"Enjoying yourself?"
"Marcy," she breaths out. She turns her head to press it against the pillow. Marcy's fingers don't stop, they get more aggressive, pressing deeper into her and that spot— she moans with a open mouth into the pillow. Her hands wander through the sheets.
"Stop, stop moving around," Marcy warns, when Lisa's hands feel up her body, trying to go for her chest, starting to cross the line.
"Plea-" she tries, "can I-," a whimper interrupts her. "Pl- come-" the word turns into a moan. "Please, please, fuck."
"What? I don't understand what you're saying," she taunts. A third finger teases around the others, but doesn't go in. A pained noise scapes her.
She takes a deep breath, "Can-I-come?" She says quick like it's just one word, but not too quick to risk having to repeat, "Please?"
"Good job. Yeah, go ahead, pet," the praise and the pet name make her shiver, and then she's coming, the fingers inside her focus on the hitting the g-spot.
But when the rush of the orgasm comes down, Marcy doesn't take her fingers out, nor does she stop. Instead she slows down, letting her catch her breath. Lisa bites her lip, moves her face from the pillow so she is looking at Marcy.
Her face— is a mess. Red eyes, tears all over her face and nose, one of her cheeks is also wet from drooling (there's a bit stain in the pillow as well), her hair is a chaos.
"You look beautiful like this. Broken," there's heat in her voice, and her fingers start moving faster again.
"Thank you," she whispers, shyly.
And it starts again, she carefully still pressed inside her, drawing a whine out of her, still sensitive, but she knows better than to argue. She also knows better than to keep moving her hips, but she can't help it.
Another finger makes its way inside, easily, filling her up more. "Fuck," Lisa says, rather loudly, and tries to ride her fingers to get more. Of what? Anything. Her hands — Lisa in a delirious state of mind — try to go for Marcy's arm.
"I told you to stop moving. Are you deaf or are you dumb?" She asks rudely. In Lisa's mind, she wants to answer 'Dumb', but Marcy speaks again, "Do I have to tie you up?"
Her eyes shot open. "Please, yes."
Marcy sighs and takes her fingers out of her, wiping them on the younger's leg. It probably didn't clean much, it was more for the act of it.
Marcy goes to grab the handcuffs, and Lisa takes the short moment to catch her breath and calm down a bit. She closes her eyes and just breaths. She feels her taking her left hand — she feels some fingers still somewhat wet — and putting the handcuffs on. She moves her hand above her head, then takes the other hand, moves it higher too and locks the other handcuff. Both hands tied to the bed.
"Better, isn't it?" She lays beside Lisa, holding her head with her hand.
"Yes, Ma'am," she says looking at her now.
"Such a pretty little thing, aren't you?" She caresses Lisa's face slowly. "I wish I could have you like this all the time," her hand traces down to wrap her neck. She closes her hand to apply some pressure. "And you would behave so well. I would train you, if you didn't."
Lisa's fill with tears. She would not need to, Lisa would— does follow everything she says, blindly. But… Marcy would go through the work of training her, just to keep her. "Thank you, Ma'am," her voice raw.
Marcy's hand leave her neck, moving down her chest delicately, to her stomach, and back to her pussy. "You're welcome, pet. Now, give me more of those sounds of yours, hm?" And with that, two fingers are back into her, the third pushed in a second later, when Marcy grasps that she was still very much open, and hunger for more.
A series of whimpers and moans fall out of her mouth freely. More tears fall from her eyes. Marcy smiles.
She's faster this time, not making it last like before. Her movements are sure, with the goal of making Lisa feel the most pleasure during the time it'll take for her to come again.
"Ah, yes, you sound so good for me," she says when the noises keep falling from her mouth, "wrecked, all ruined for me."
"Because of you, onl-" she whimpers, trying to talk through her pleasure, "Only you… can ruin me like this," she looks at Marcy, half her face already laying in the pillow again, all over her spit. "I'm yours."
"Of course you are," she says matter-of-factly, "What else would you be if not mine? My slut, my pet, my good girl," Lisa moans, getting closer and closer to the edge.
"Thank you. It's- You-" she keeps saying incomprehensible things, starting phrases never longer than four words. Marcy's fingers inside her and in her clit make her whine. "Fuck."
"What I wouldn't give to have you here naked in my bed everyday," Lisa gasps feeling Marcy's fingers curl right into the right spot, "I would come home, and you'd be on your knees, waiting for me, a ball gag, hum? A collar with my name on it. Maybe I would chain you to the bed…"
Her hips move around her fingers and without warning, Lisa comes once more. "Yes, please, thank- thank you. Thank you, Ma'am," she says panting, her eyes open and close, she curses under her breath.
"Alright," she says, and moves to take the handcuffs off her. "Move here, between my legs," she indicates, as she sits with her back in the pillows. Lisa lays on her stomach between her legs, holding herself up on her arms, on both sides of her waist.
Marcy holds her hair to make her look up. "Make me feel good. It's what you want, right?"
"Yes," she nods, "please," and immediately mouths one of her breasts. Kissing, licking, biting weakly. She goes to the other, and against her skin she keeps speaking, mindlessly. "You're gorgeous. Perfect. I love everything about you."
"Tell me," Marcy exhales deeply. Lisa keeps kissing her, leaving marks all over her chest; she trails down.
She does, listing everything between kisses. "I love… your nails, and how the leave marks on my back, and everywhere you touch me… when you scratch my hair… I love your hair, always perfect and it suits you so well... I love your eyes, you can… transmit any emotion just with a look, I love the way you look at me… I love the way you treat me, how you put me in my place, and I love that you know you're place. Above me… I love how your hands feel on my neck… on my body. I love your legs... I love the power you have over me. I love that you're older… I love when you make me cry."
When she finishes, her mouth is in her waist, her whole front covered in hickeys. She looks at her, devotion written all over her face, her mouth now hovering Marcy's pussy.
"You're something else, pet," and she nods, giving her the green light. Lisa instantaneously goes down on her, starting by licking her and finding her hole. She gasps and says, "One day, I'm gonna fuck you so well you won't be able to say anything other than 'please' and 'thank you'."
Lisa, feeling brave — turned on — stops and says, "Promise?"
"Careful, pet." She grabs her hair, and pushes her into herself again, feeling her wet tongue inside her, "Fuck."
Lisa continues to eat her out, and now the sounds are not only from her, Marcy can't help but moan from pleasure. Both lost in the moment.
Marcy opens her eyes to glance at Lisa — eyes closed, whining against her, her head moves with the command of Marcy's hands; she notices she's rocking herself into the sheets. Marcy hits the side of her leg with her foot. "Hey," that's all she needs to say. Lisa stops and focus on the task assigned. She snorts. "Insatiable."
She grabs her hair tighter, focused on getting off, Lisa's tongue works between her lips, then inside again, and when she comes back enough to form a thought, it's the realization that Marcy wants it now. She finds her clit and starts working there, licking and sucking. Marcy's moans getting louder, her panting too.
With a broken moan, she comes. She uses Lisa's mouth to ride it out and when she comes down from the rush of the orgasm, pushes her head away.
Still holding her hair, Marcy takes in the state of her face and pulls her on top of her. Lisa wiggles onto her and rests her head between her breasts; she gives one a little kiss. "Cute. You did great, baby, so good. Do you feel okay?"
"Yeah, I feel great. Thank you."
"Anytime," she kisses her, affectionately. They stay there kissing for a while. "Baby, lay here, I'm going to get something to clean us up, okay?" Lisa nods, tired, with her eyes closed. And without meaning to, and with a warm feeling in her chest, she falls asleep.