A week went by and any regrets on what might have been soon faded. I got on with my own life working at University College London, where I worked in the department for Hebrew and Jewish Studies. For many that would be considered boring, burying oneself in the long and distant past. I’d been born in Israel and brought to live in England by my parents as a child. They were ultra-religious, and I was brought up strictly. I knew very quickly, I preferred female company to that of men, I had a lifestyle too my parents would have frowned upon, had they known. Each week, I visited a club, deep in the heart of London, not a stone throw from Fleet Street, the heart of the British Newspaper Industry, before the mass exodus to East London, with Wapping its current heart. The club, The Dungeon, wasn’t just deep in central London but as its name implied, it was deep underground too. I didn’t go outrageously dressed, not like some butch women, who took their sub to be displayed and in extreme cases publicly abused. I wear my hair short, but my build and general demeanour meant I could never be considered submissive. I never went to actively participate, be part of the floorshow. I loved the scene, but I preferred to quietly observe.
I knew I was a certain age. Anyone turning up, male or female of my age wasn’t going to be sub, so as my age group seemed to predominate, the competition for young subs of either sex was intense. I chose to not get involved so I always left as I arrived – alone. I liked to wear a leather cap and matching jacket, no chains or tattoos, certainly no piercings. I was amongst a crowd of observers at one end. There was a lot of activity going on and that is when I saw Jocelyn again. At first, I wasn’t sure but when the woman she was with manhandled her and her face turned in my direction I just knew it was her. She seemed to be trying to get away. I stepped forward and placed myself at the front, if Jocelyn looked in my direction again, I’d be in her eye line. I stood and waited. I could see she was distressed but nobody seemed to come to her aid. The woman she was with was trying to drag her up onto the stage, I felt I had to intervene. I was no fairy, but I doubted I was a match for this butch woman who had hold of the same slim, bit of a girl I’d rescued from a west end of London pavement.
‘Leave her, she doesn’t want to do whatever you’re planning to do. Let her go!’ Jocelyn turned, recognition took hold, the butch woman looked at me.’
‘If you know what is good for you, I suggest you piss off, she’s mine unless you want to try taking her from me!’ The woman was short, squat, covered in tattoos which only added to her overweight revulsion.
‘Not any longer!’ Jocelyn sank her teeth into the woman’s securing hand which gained her release. She then placed herself behind me for protection. By now, the club security had understood an incident was taking place. I was ready to fight this beast, disguised as a woman. In fact, I even wondered if my potential opponent was female at all. Such was the confusion these days, it was becoming anybody’s guess. I grabbed the girl and suggested we got out as quickly as possible. That was how Jocelyn, the forthcoming love of my life, ended up staying the night and sleeping in my bed!
Now, I know what you may be thinking, but it wasn’t like that. I got her out of The Dungeon. The tattooed excuse for femininity was being restrained, and it was suggested we left quickly. That thought was already fixed in my mind, so I didn’t need further encouragement. We both stopped to collect our outer garments and once outside we made ourselves scarce, not looking back to see if we were being pursued by the beast from hell. At least I wasn’t supporting her weight this time. As before, once we reached the car, I bundled her inside and my heart only stopped racing once I’d locked the doors and started the engine.
‘You were the last person I expected to see in there.’ I opened the conversation.
‘I could say the same although I’m not complaining, in fact I’m delighted. Saving me is becoming a habit and I suspect you’ll need more than promise of a coffee to repay you this time.’ She replied.
‘A fucking good explanation would go a long way.’ I responded, relaxing for the first time as a venue I doubted I’d ever go to again receded into the distance.
‘About what, why I was with her or why I was in there at all?’ I decided to drive back to mine. It was quite early, and I was determined to get to know this young woman who had got to me in a big way.
‘Fancy coming back to mine, I think we need something stronger than coffee as I suspect we both have some explaining to do.’ I looked over at Jocelyn who shrugged. ‘Is that a yes or aren’t you bothered.’ I added.
‘I’d like that, thank you.’ She seemed a nice polite girl. I liked that.
‘You’re into the scene then?’ I asked.
‘It rather looks like it; but you too, now that was a surprise!’ She replied impishly.
‘I assume you’re submissive?’ I asked her next.
‘I feel naturally submissive, how about you?’ She asked a telling question.
‘I feel more at home in a dominant role although I don’t feel I have to cover my body in tattoos, shave my head and have lots of piercings to prove it.’ She smiled.
‘Like Janice you mean?’ So that great lump had a name.
‘If that is her name then yes. What in the love of God were you doing with her?’ Jocelyn’s answer astounded me.
‘She’s my girlfriend, or she was. I think she should now consider herself dumped!’
‘I wouldn’t count on that; does she know where you live?’ Jocelyn shook her head.
‘I don’t think so, we’d meet up and go back to hers.’ One question now fuelled my thinking.
‘What on earth entered your head to go with her?’ I asked.
‘I don’t make friends easily, I guess it’s my strange interest, it’s not exactly what you want shouted off the rooftops is it. I met her and she seemed fun. When she brought me along to that place, I didn’t realise until it was too late what she intended doing.’ She explained.
‘Which was?’
‘Be part of the entertainment, I guess. When I worked out what she intended I freaked out, then this nice lady who saved me before, came to my rescue again.’ I was nearing my home and I slowed before pulling into my driveway. Jocelyn looked up at my extensive house. ‘Wow, you must be someone quite important, what on earth were you doing at that place, you don’t seem the type.’
‘For a start I’m not someone important. This is or was my parent’s home. I was brought to this country from Israel when I was a child. They returned a while ago and left me that to live in.’ I then answered her other point. ‘None of us know our makeup as a person until they mature, and their life settles in place around them. I’ve always had an interest in women and adopting a dominant role within a relationship if one came along. Sadly, I’ve never met anyone who has these feelings but coming from a submissive direction.’ I knew where the conversation was heading and I felt it should take place inside, in comfort and not seated outside my house in a car.
‘Drink? I’m afraid it’s just wine, or I can make fresh ground coffee?’ I hoped my second suggestion didn’t sound too pompous.
‘I drink gallons on the stuff, but mine is instant. Wine will be great.’ I had her seated on the sofa now, she looked so tiny and vulnerable, I knew then I had to do anything I could to keep her. I still wondered what possessed her to meet up with the huge butch woman I’d just saved her from. Was she that lonely and desperate. Surely, I could offer her far more than that. She was standing browsing through my bookshelves when I returned, her head contorting in all directions to catch titles and author names along their spines.
‘Do you like books?’ I asked.
‘I do, I particularly like them because you can tell a lot about their owner.’ I wondered what she had concluded about me.
‘I suspect Janice’s bookshelves were pretty bare?’ I immediately regretted my comment. I had judged someone’s lifestyle appearance against how they were really like in real life. My regret deepened when Jocelyn replied.
‘Now that’s a thing. She is someone very different in everyday life, how she dresses to go out doesn’t compare to who she is normally. She does have an extensive library too, not just colouring books.’ I had just been thoroughly dressed down by an elfin figure wearing a short tee shirt which exposed her navel and cut down denim shorts which exposed a rather neat little bottom.
‘Boy, did I ask for that!’ I felt totally chastised for my crass misjudgement.
‘I’d have felt similarly in your position. I’d met her before, been inside her home. Shared her bed too.’ At least that had confirmed this beautiful childlike creature standing before me spread her butter on the same side of a slice of bread as I did.
‘What are your conclusions of me, now you’ve viewed my book collection?’ I asked, nervously.
‘You are obviously interested in Jewish history, equally so BDSM.’ She replied.
‘The first part is simple; I work at University College London at the Department for Hebrew and Jewish Studies. So that should solve the mystery of a vast majority of those books. The others are a mixture of popular fiction and yes, BDSM. I’ve been fascinated by that subject most of my life, yet never coming to any conclusions as to why?’ Jocelyn moved closer, she had nice slender legs which she crossed after she had picked up her glass of wine and taken a seat diagonally facing me at the other end of my sofa, which I hoped by some magic would now shrink and bring her closer,
‘Have you had a BDSM relationship?’ She asked after a short period of silence.
‘No, but I suspect you have?’ I replied.
‘No, not a relationship, just some unfortunate one-night stands which basically meant I ended up being physically abused. I’m not into men whatsoever and most of the small number of women I met thought that lifestyle was just about being dominant and obedient. It’s far more than that.’ I felt this girl was out of my league. She’d had experience where I had none. I sensed given time and sharing our feelings on what sort of relationship this could become we could be a perfect match. Building something together from scratch. I decided it was time to take a risk.
‘When I took you home the other night, I loved the feel of your slender body close to mine, our heads touched several times too. It’s hard to avoid when you are taking someone’s weight, and they inevitably lean in. I felt intimacy for the first time in thirty years Jocelyn. I got you inside your home and that intimacy continued, I was impressed by the order in which you lived. I didn’t want to leave when inevitably the time came, when to stay longer would need a reason I was too scared to even think about sharing. You stood on your doorstep and watched me drive away. You stayed until I was out of sight, and I cried afterwards when I wish I’d stopped and returned; to see if you had remained standing there. Why did you stay watching me recede into the distance.’ I closed my eyes and waited. The wait wasn’t long.
‘Because I felt the same and when I went back inside after you’d disappeared, I cried myself to sleep.’ Jocelyn had become a blur now.
‘Will you stay tonight. I need to talk, and I can make you comfortable in a spare bedroom. I have plenty.’ I suggested.
‘I’d prefer to sleep with you.’ She replied.
Stopping at that point, we took our wine upstairs and just wearing a tee shirt and knickers each, we slid into my bed. I’d brought the bottle too and after refilling, we continued the conversation seated side by side against the headboard. I’d found a couple of pillows for Jocelyn, realising for the first time ever I’d never prepared my double bed for two.
‘You don’t look Jewish.’ Jocelyn opened the conversation bluntly. I liked her straightforward approach although I was puzzled in one respect.
‘Really, what is Jewish girl meant to look like?’
‘I don’t know, darker, swarthier, hairy even?’ She answered impishly.
‘I might be, I’ve cut my hair short, and this is not my natural colour. You’d have to check me elsewhere to find out and I’m pretty hairy there.’ I replied wondering how far she intended going with this conversation.
‘This isn’t my natural colour either.’ Jocelyn shook her head, ruffling her hair in the process but still emphasising where I was meant to look. I decided it was time to move things along, away from pubic hair or possibly none at all.
‘BDSM is a very complex subject, what is it you are looking for exactly?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know, I do know what those letters mean but none on their own meets my needs precisely, I always felt I’d know when I found the right partner.’ I liked her answer because it fitted pretty much how I felt about it too.
‘What were you hoping might have happened, had I not left or maybe turned around and returned?’ I needed to find out.
‘Pretty much what we’re doing now. It might not have been quite so easy as it has been this time because unlike last time, this time I know you’re lesbian, like me. I also know you are interested in the scene, even if you might not be actively involved. At least we don’t have to shy away from the subject.’ I got that.
‘I feel I’m at a disadvantage though. I have no wish to be submissive. My nature and how I deal with people has a dominant edge, yet, because of your experience, I sense you are in charge. Do you understand the concept of “topping from the bottom”? I asked finally.
‘Of course, I sense I’m doing this now, driving the agenda forward, but that is only because I am awakening you.’ Jocelyn replied.
‘So, you are expecting another side of me to emerge?’ I had to ask; it would have been stupid not to.
‘Of course, if you are the dominant woman, I hope you are, you’ll know what I need or if you do not, I’m sure you’ll ask.’ I thought about that answer and decided, now wasn’t the time to make assumptions. I realised the thing Jocelyn needed more than anything was certainty and that could only come from me.
‘Okay young lady I hear you loud and clear. I want you facing me so I can ask you some questions and when I have the answers I need, I’ll act accordingly.’ Typically, Jocelyn asked a question I didn’t expect.
‘Am I allowed to bring my wine?’ She asked.
‘You’re over 18, aren’t you?’ I hoped she was. I wasn’t sure where this would go if she said she wasn’t.
‘I’m 23,’ she replied.
‘Ma’am!’ I thought I’d become stricter, check her reaction and in particular test out my credibility.
‘I’m 23 ma’am, I apologise for any disrespect you might have felt. It won’t happen again.’ Jocelyn moved from her position beside me and now sat between my open legs.
‘Describe your ideal dominant partner - hold nothing back.’ I felt a level of excitement rising I’d never experienced before. The information this beautiful young woman was about to express in the next few minutes was going to matter beyond anything I’d ever experienced before. Our eyes made contact.
‘Obviously that person has to be female. A transexual wouldn’t hit the mark and my greatest fear of being penetrated by a man would be the worst experience of my life. For someone like me, it’s becoming more difficult to know in advance. I’d hate to find out when it was too late.’ I understood that totally. I worked with men, I collaborated with them too, but from a certain distance only. I’d always had a fear of being raped and it seemed Jocelyn did too. It begged a question.
‘Is that a subtle way of asking me to show my credentials and prove myself.’ Jocelyn shook her head.
‘No, your laryngeal prominence is far too less formed than it would be in a man, I’ve been a medical student long enough to know that. Your labia majora are fleshy and prominent too and not overly covered in a mass of pubic hair. Your panties cling rather tastefully to the contours of your pussy and make their eventual exposure a pleasing prospect.’ I smiled as I realised, I was becoming the subject matter for a lecture on my own anatomy. She looked down. ‘Shall I expose mine so there can be no doubt of our mutual validity right from the outset.’ I looked at this tease of a girl, then gave her an unexpected reply.
‘No, I’ll decide that moment of unveiling, but you can remove that tee shirt, your navel is becoming a distraction.’ There was no hesitation, no request for explanation. Jocelyn lowered her hands and lifted the tee shirt over her head leaving her stripped to the waist. I feasted my eyes on her small self-supporting breasts. Her nipples were pink and both erect. She looked at me, leaning back and supporting herself with both extended arms.
‘Are you planning to explain why it was necessary to expose my breasts. How does this help me to describe my perfect Domme?’ She asked.
‘I don’t use that term, I prefer dominant partner, the word you use suggests more S&M than I’m ready for just now, the answer is simple, but I won’t supply it until you stop slouching and sit up straight.’ I raised my voice slightly to emphasise my instruction. ‘Come closer too.’ Jocelyn shuffled forward bringing her breasts and especially her nipples within touching range. I raised two finger and thumbs and grasped her nipples, squeezing slightly. ‘You see, I might have been able to do this through your tee shirt, but it’s more satisfying to grasp and then pinch your bared nipples.’ I squeezed both harder and saw the building pain reflect in her eyes which stared back defiantly. I squeezed still harder. ‘I’m not even trying Jocelyn; I’d give it up if I were you.’ A final squeeze had her cry out in pain. ‘I’ve always wanted to do that to a girl, and I couldn’t resist telling you to bare your breasts. Besides, you obeyed my real first command which I know you wanted too.’ Jocelyn had tears in her eyes, her nipples and surrounding area was bright red.
‘It hurt, that wasn’t nice.’ She complained half heatedly.
‘Not a scratch on what you are used to I bet. The big difference between me and those others is I care.’ I responded.
‘You have a funny way of showing it.’ She suggested.
‘If you and I are going to develop the sort of relationship we both crave, there will be many more inopportune moments like that, where I will make spur of the moment requests and take the initiative and do things which please me – come here.’ Another command, this time I moved back against the headboard and opening my arms invited her to snuggle up close. I wondered about removing my own top, going skin to skin, but I wanted to keep that very thin veneer of sexual distance. There was more to learn and as a result more to experiment with. Her head and hair snuggled in against my neck and for the first time I could smell the natural scent she exuded. This was all new to me and I took my time, enjoying every second of it. I slowly rubbed her right nipple, wetting my finger to create a sense of coolness against her hot burning skin which surrounded it. I repeated this on her left nipple too. ‘This, in case you are not aware, is the post-pain act of aftercare. Have you heard that term used before?’ I asked.
‘Are you kidding, of course I’ve heard of it, but the morons I’ve had abuse me and inflict pain wouldn’t have the first clue as to its meaning, let alone carry it out.’ Jocelyn replied softly.
‘I’ve only read about it; you are the first person I’ve ever tried it out on. Does it show that I’ve never done anything like we are doing tonight before?’ Jocelyn turned her head and kissed my cheek.
‘I really think you must be some kind of fraud, trying to kid me I’m the first woman you’ve tried anything with?’
‘It’s true though, what is more remarkable, frightening in fact, is that had the heel of your shoe not jammed itself in that paving crack we would never have even met.’ I looked down Jocelyn’s slim, flat stomach, yearning to run my hand down and slide it inside her panties. To touch a woman there for the first time too.
‘So, you have no practical experience of doing anything like this before?’ I looked at her seriously.
‘None whatsoever, everything I’m doing is what I’ve read or my natural instinct?’ I replied.
‘You are amazing, nobody has made me feel like you do, everything feels so natural.’ I had a further question.
‘I asked you earlier what you’d want your ideal partner to be? You’ve answered with issues of gender, and we got distracted by your nipples too. I just need to know the sort of person I can never be.’ I did run my hand down her abdomen now and settled with a finger teasing her navel while I waited to hear her reply.
‘You must never control me, I’m a free spirit, I’m happy to live in a cage but you cannot ever close its door. I’m a wild bird who must take to the skies and soar, fly with eagles. I don’t want to be told how to dress or what to wear. If I overstep the mark, you must punish me. But I do want to feel owned, to be someone’s cherished property. Tag me, collar me, nothing permanent mind, like being branded. I yearn to belong. Love me, accept my needy side and let me cling to you when I’m frightened or need to feel your warmth, your reassurance. I’ve never been able to tell anyone this before because I have never known anyone who would remotely understand. I sense you do. You’re a natural Rachel.’ I looked down at Jocelyn, I wanted her now. My hand moved down further and went beyond the line indicated by her elasticated waist band. I went right in between her crotch and with my fingers clinging to the cheeks of her plump little bottom I dragged her closer. I felt a frenzy of arousal, of need; I made room and tore off my own top, deciding I wasn’t going to stop there. I eased my knickers down, then grabbing hers I pulled them off too. I looked at her longingly and then kissed someone for the first time. She was a beautiful girl and my kiss meant everything.
A lesbian erotic romance
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