Desire Paths Pt. 02

This is a prequel to Desire Paths, telling the story of Natalie, the woman who preceded Emily as a slave.

All characters in the story are 18 or over.

1.

It was starting to dawn on Natalie that she might be in over her head. The 44-year-old mother of two was, by then, completely nude except for the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, fastened to the leather bench. Something about feeling the drafty air of the basement against her bare pussy and her round, prominently displayed ass, had made things suddenly very real. The previous weeks had been a blur of escalating dares and incessant lust, coming over her like a hallucinatory wave, and there, in the basement, the enormity of her situation was now apparent. She struggled against the binds. Natalie didn't have her car. She didn't know where she was. She didn't even know this woman. Not really. Not when it came down to it.

"Tiff! Hey, Tiff!" she called.

She heard footsteps creaking in the floorboards above her--someone striding gracefully across the kitchen. She could hear the sound of the basement door opening. Natalie waited to hear a reply, but none came. Even still, she could feel a presence--a magnetic force bearing down on her through the basement. Tiff. Natalie wondered how she had let it get to this point. How she had let herself be so desperately, vulnerably at the mercy of this woman?

In 44 years, she had never so much as fantasized about being with another woman, let alone actually done anything. She struggled against the binds again, but it was no use. It occurred to her that in 19 years no one besides her husband had beheld her naked body, and even those sightings were about as common as lunar eclipses. It had been almost cliché the way they'd grown apart: husband traveling constantly for work, the household evolving to the point that it functioned entirely without him. And by then the children were in high school, their waking hours increasingly regimented and accounted for. She felt the household evolving once again, this time to function without her, and Natalie wondered privately what the next phase of her life might look like. Would she take an art class, or take up Pickle Ball, or book a short vacation to Montreal? She knew she was free to do whatever she wanted. She just needed to figure out what was. She had been waiting for a new path to reveal itself to her, wondering if she would recognize it as such when it appeared. Now, in the dim fluorescent light of the basement, she was asking herself if she'd let it go too far. Picked the wrong trailhead and forged the wrong path. Maybe. That was the safe bet. But if that was true, why was she so fucking turned on?

2.

Back in November, her daughter was receiving an honor at school for the end of the term. The morning of the ceremony, Natalie flipped through her walk-in closet, looking for something to wear. She hadn't bought clothing in a decade--one after another, she removed the dresses from their hangers and tried them on. Each time she pulled the garment past her ass and thighs, she inevitably felt the fabric tugging. In the full-length mirror, she observed her reflection, debating whether each dress clung too provocatively to her generous hindquarters. After cycling through the closet, time was running out. She admitted defeat and selected the dress that was the least revealing (though not by much) and headed out the door.

She could hardly concentrate on the ceremony. Speakers were walking to the microphone, offering brief speeches. Eventually each would utter a name and a student would walk across the stage and accept a certificate. Natalie tried to snap out of her funk. She wanted be mentally present for her daughter, but the process of trying on clothing had left her utterly destroyed--self-conscious, swearing resolutions to change her life, wondering how she'd let it get this bad.

One final round of applause snapped her back to attention. People were rising to their feet and exiting the auditorium.

"Parents of award recipients: please stick around. We'd like to get a group photo for the socials," the principal announced.

Natalie obliged, climbing the short set of stairs to join her daughter on stage. They took a few group photos with the honorees and their parents, then the photographer ushered Natalie and her daughter to take a photo together with the certificate. Natalie groaned internally, thinking of all the people who might see the photos of her in the tight dress once they were posted.

"Mom, do you know her?" her daughter asked. "She's looking at you like she knows you."

In the back row of the auditorium stood a thin woman in a gray suit. Her bronze complexion and layered blonde hair gave her a sporty look, like she might surf or play volleyball. Something in the sun. And she was definitely staring at Natalie.

"No, I don't think I do. Does she work here?"

"I think she's a realtor or something. She sponsored one of the awards. Also... can I have ten dollars? There's a bake sale after lunch."

Natalie, caught in the magnetic gaze of this mysterious woman, produced a ten-dollar bill to her daughter. Her daughter plucked it and escaped back into the school halls, shouting a cursory "thanks, mom!" Natalie hardly noticed. She had begun to descend the stage stairs towards this woman--it was like she was caught in a tractor beam. When the had bridged the considerable gap between them in the auditorium, Natalie spoke first.

"Excuse me. I couldn't help but notice that it seemed like you were looking at me. Do we know each other?"

"No, I don't think so. I think I would remember. And I'm sorry for staring... it's just that... and this is awkward to say to a stranger... you're gorgeous."

Natalie blushed.

"That dress looks exquisite on you. I can tell from the way you carry yourself that you're a little lacking in confidence. I know the opinion of a stranger may not mean anything to you, but you're a smoke show, mama. You've got to own it. Especially when you've got that great big booty of yours."

The remark was so crass that it knocked the wind from Natalie's lungs. She'd come of age in an era that had vilified that particular feature of her body, and though it was a compliment, she flinched at the comment.

"Sorry if that's coarse, sweetie. But, I see an ass like yours and I ask myself 'What were all of my squats even for?' At a certain point you remember sometimes the secret to a great butt is just fate and genetics, you know? I'm Tiff."

She extended her hand. Natalie swallowed.

"Um, Natalie."

"Good to meet you, 'Um Natalie.' If I look familiar to you, it's probably because you've seen my face on a bus stop. Or my billboard off the parkway."

Natalie was still too stunned by Tiff's previous remark to fully process the next bit for a second.

"Sorry, I was just caught off guard there. I'm not used to being... for people talking to me like that," Natalie said, sounding less reprimanding than she'd intended.

"That's a problem of mine. I can't keep my thoughts to myself. I pride myself on being a straight shooter. Sorry if it's too forward. You're just so... va va voom. I'm jealous."

"I guess it's nice to hear in a funny way. Thank you. But I don't know. Trying on dresses this morning was a wake up call. I think I need to go on a diet."

"Stop, you're gorgeous. You don't need to do a thing," Tiff said. "So, proud mama, what's on your agenda for the rest of the day?"

"I thought I'd go out to lunch with my daughter, but it seems like she'd rather eat here with her friends."

"That's a shame. You're going to need one last good meal before all the kale. If you do go on that diet."

Natalie, who'd been looking mostly at her feet, looked up at Tiff. She was probably a few years older than Natalie. Her body was taut from a devoted gym regimen. Tiff was beaming at her, looking very much like one of her bus stop ads. Natalie was suddenly aware that they were still standing in the empty auditorium that had been full of students, teachers and parents less than five minutes before. In that short time, the slim, chatty woman before her had seemed to fill the room. She'd made crude, boundary-pushing and overly familiar comments about her body. But she'd also been quite complimentary. Maybe overly so, to the point that a part of Natalie wondered if Tiff was actually coming on to her. Natalie squashed the thought in her head. Preposterous. It's not like this attractive, assertive, sporty woman was going around picking-up chubby moms at some high school. It just didn't make sense. She didn't even know if Tiff was gay. Despite this, from the small part of Natalie that was asking if this was a pick-up, an even smaller part, a sub-committee if you want, had formed. A tiny voice in her head was now asking "if that is what this is, how do I feel about it?"

"Come to lunch with me," Tiff said.

"Why... why do you want to have lunch with me?"

"I see a person who seems interesting and I want to know more. I love people--that's half of my job, getting to know people. Making a connection is the most important part of living. What do you say?"

Natalie had to admit to herself that she was so drawn to this woman's charisma, brash as she was. She was in her thrall, more accurately. Natalie decided to go to lunch, if only to be in the presence of Tiff's energy a little bit longer. Maybe it was a chaotic. Maybe it was a little uncomfortable. But it definitely wasn't boring.

3.

"So. Tell me everything about Natalie," Tiff said, laying her menu down on the white table cloth.

"Not much to tell, I suppose. My family and I live in the Fox Valley neighborhood. Two kids... well, you saw my daughter. And I have a son, her fraternal twin. They're both eighteen, applying to college. Do you have kids?"

"No, no. I'm a proud aunt but my lifestyle is pretty incompatible with all that. I'm free as a bird. If I want to go to the St. Kitts for a week, I get up and go. It suits me and I never get bored."

Natalie nibbled a corner of her bread.

"What's that like?"

"I do what I want, when I want. I was supposed to go to an open house after the ceremony today. I canceled. If I want to eat, I eat. If I want money, I make money."

"My life is practically the opposite of that. Totally predictable, no spontaneity. Going to lunch with a stranger is the first spontaneous thing I've done in years. I take it you're not married."

"Hell no. And I take it you are," Tiff said.

"Yes. Nineteen years now."

"He wasn't able to attend this morning?"

"He's traveling for work. He's on the road a lot."

"That's too bad. But he's a lucky man! And I bet he's all over you. I bet you have to run upstairs ahead of him to keep his hands off that thing."

Years after their first lunch, Natalie would recall scoffing at the nerve of Tiff. How entitled Tiff seemed to be about discussing Natalie's body, her sex life, her life in general. But like many things, it soon became one of those thoughts that seemed quaint in retrospect, after everything that came to pass.

"Tiff..."

"Have you never hung out with women before? Never seen Sex and the City? This is an unalienable part of being a woman! We have to live in the world with men, so we should at least get to talk about them behind their backs."

Natalie chewed some more bread and considered this.

"Sex has just never been that big a part of our relationship."

"So was it ever good? Or just bad lately?"

"I don't know. How did we even get on this? I don't know why I'm talking to you about this. I must be losing my mind, but: Tom has never made me... you know?"

"In nineteen years?"

"Well, twenty, I guess. We dated a year before getting married."

Natalie paused for a second.

"Oh my God, why did I say that? What is wrong with me? Why did I tell you that?"

"Because it feels good to finally say it out loud. And no one ever asked you before me. Because no one else in this world is concerned about your pleasure except you... and now me. Because it's an injustice for a woman like you to be so badly neglected. Sweetie, it is a crime against nature."

"You must have better luck with men."

If she was honest with herself, Natalie may have intended it as a broader question about Tiff's sexuality, couched in a harmless retort. The server arrived and placed the meals at their place settings.

"Fortunately, I've managed to sidestep that whole issue altogether."

Natalie squinted, trying to decode this statement.

"What I mean is I sleep with women," Tiff said.

Natalie choked. The server, having heard Tiff, seemed to sprint away from the table.

"Oh."

They began to eat their food. For a while they ate in silence beneath the clinking of silverware and plates. Natalie replayed their conversation from the auditorium to the table in her head.

"Don't worry--I'm not trying anything. I don't think you're my type, anyway."

"Well, not to be presumptuous but, you know, with the compliments and some of the comments I did start to wonder..."

All told, it was a pleasant meal. The initial awkwardness subsided and Natalie actually enjoyed having a grown adult to talk with about her life: her frustrations, her children and the college application process, her husband, and eventually even a bit more about her sex life. All the while, Tiff listened intently, interrupting periodically to crack a little joke. At the end of lunch they exchanged phone numbers and made a tentative plan to get margaritas with Tiff's friends sometime soon.

Later, back at home, Natalie greeted her daughter from school.

"By the way, I talked to that realtor from the ceremony, Tiff. We actually got to talking and we had lunch. We had a really nice time."

"Really? It was like she staring at you. She seemed a little strange."

"She's a little intense, sure. But she's very nice. And funny. But intense."

4.

Back in the basement, Natalie's anxiety continued to grow. But she was also fairly certain she was already wet just from thinking about what was coming. She could hear Tiff's heels clicking overhead. Damn her. Damn her for making Natalie wait. She'd played her like a fiddle, teasing her bit by bit. Flirty texting. Innuendo. A tipsy night of margaritas with her friends Melody and Pam. More texting. A picture of a pumpkin from a Thanksgiving display with the message "everything reminds me of you." The fact that Natalie was deleting these texts was probably evidence enough that this was all so wrong.

A few weeks after they met, Natalie dreamed that Tiff was a school bully and that she was a hapless nerd, despite them both still being in their forties in the dream. (Go figure, dream logic.) Tiff had cornered her in the locker room and taken her change of clothes, and Natalie was naked, trying to cover herself, begging Tiff to return them. When she woke up, she was in a state of urgent arousal. Tom was in Colorado. The bed was empty. Natalie made herself cum thinking of the dream. It was the first time she'd thought about a woman sexually in her life.

But all this paled in comparison to the real tipping point. It transpired at a particular lunch, about five weeks after she met Tiff.

"Thanks again for being my lunch date," Tiff had said.

"A date? I'm a married woman, Tiff," Natalie said.

By this point they would often go back and forth like this, a form of banter. But it was less and less convincing with each passing day.

"Come on, Natalie. Haven't you ever heard? Women are like spaghetti: straight until you warm them up and get them wet," Tiff cackled. "Another?"

She pointed to the empty wine glass in front of Natalie. Natalie was fairly certain this was the earliest she'd ever had a drink in her life. It was 11:30am and she was on a not-date with a lesbian, contemplating her second glass of wine. Who the hell was she? It was like all her decisions were being made by someone else, some disreputable guardian angel who was trying to make her life more complicated. But it wasn't boring.

"Sure."

Tiff called the server back and ordered another glass for each of them.

"Okay, well as long as we're talking so openly about everything: what's it like?"

"Being with a woman?"

"Yes."

"It's the best thing in the fucking world, Natalie. The softness. The way a woman truly understands a woman. When she needs to be laid down on satin sheets and licked within an inch of her life. When she needs to be pressed against a wall and have her bottom spanked red."

"Spanked?"

"Good lord, Natalie. You mean you've never been spanked?"

"I've never..."

Natalie stopped. The server was returning with two fresh glasses of wine.

"Should we toast? I know we didn't for the first one, but I think the situation calls for it," Tiff said.

"Toast to what?"

"Let's say it's a toast to throwing caution to the wind: taking spontaneous lunches with new friends, harmless flirting, and a second glass of wine."

The clinked glasses.

"Make sure you make eye contact or you'll have seven years of bad sex. Well... seven more," Tiff giggled.

Natalie blushed. They both tasted the wine, each of them ensuring they didn't drop the other's gaze.

"There. Now where were we? Oh, right. Spanking. I can't believe you've never had someone tell you you're a bad, bad girl and tan your hide."

"Maybe I've been a good girl all my life," Natalie said.

She gasped as the words escaped from her lips. Maybe it was the wine. Or maybe it was the growing feeling in her stomach--the roller coaster type--that she wanted to indulge.

"I find that very, very hard to believe. Otherwise, what are we doing here?" Tiff smirked.

It was at that moment that Natalie felt something under the table rub against her leg. Her first thought was: rat. Second thought: Tiff. She looked around the restaurant--still mostly empty. Their server was keeping intentionally scarce, having overheard a little too much at her last visit to the table.

"Tiff, stop."

"What'd we say in the toast: we're toasting a little harmless flirting. It's just footsy. Doesn't it feel good to be touched?"

It did. Natalie closed her eyes at the table and felt Tiff's foot rubbing up the inside of her calf, just below her knee. Goose bumps formed on her legs.

"Oh, Tiff. You have a power over me that I can't explain. I don't know why I let you talk to me like this, or do this to me. I should not be here. I should not be doing this. So why?"

"Eyes open, sweetie. You'll draw more attention. And you're doing this because you're starved. You're starving to be touched. Starved to be led by a firm hand and brought to the promise land. Do you want to see the promise land?"

Natalie nodded. She had not been touched in so long that she was putty on Tiff's shoe.

"You have to try this ceviche. It's exquisite."

Tiff forked a portion of ceviche and leaned across the table, beckoning Natalie to meet her half way. Natalie took the waiting bite in her mouth.

"There now, isn't that good?"

"Mmhmm," she mumbled, chewing.

"You like being wild. You like being a bad, bad girl. Don't you?"

"I might."

"Do you, or don't you? Do you want to find out how Tiff takes care of her bad, bad girls, or don't you?"

"I do."

"Then it's time to pay the toll."

Natalie swallowed the ceviche.

"What do I have to do?"

"I'd bet my Mercedes you're soaking wet right now. Is that fair to say?"

It was.

"And I'm willing to bet you're wearing a thong right now, yes? To avoid panty lines."

Also true. Natalie nodded timidly.

"Give it to me."

"What? Here?"

"Natalie! I'm a kinky, adventurous woman, but I'm not a nut job. Go to the ladies' room, take them off and then hand them to me."

Natalie wiped her mouth with the napkin and rose from the table. Moment of truth. She turned to look back at the table before pushing the door to the ladies' room open, half-expecting to see Tiff staring at her ass. Instead, Tiff was eating her ceviche contently, paying no attention to her. It occurred to Natalie that she could run away--her van was parked outside. She could leave this rapidly escalating situation and go back to her life. Instead, she entered the bathroom and locked the door of the handicap stall. As Tiff had predicted, she was soaking wet. She peeled the thong from her waist and balled it in her fist. What now? Did she wash her hands? No, she couldn't, as doing so would mean setting the panties down where anyone could see them. She'd left her purse at her chair. There was no playbook for this sort of thing, she lamented.

Natalie returned to the table and slipped the balled thong to Tiff. To Natalie's relief, Tiff did not belabor the hand off. Instead, she slipped it directly in her purse.

"There. Now you've paid the toll. Was that so bad?"

"No."

"Now you get to see what Tiff does to bad little girls."

5.

And, in the basement, Natalie was finally about to find out what Tiff does to bad girls. After what had felt like an eternity, Tiff descended the stairs.

"You look so good like that, Natalie: trussed up on my bench, that great big ass in the air. I am going to really, really enjoy this. Ever since I saw you in that auditorium, I knew I had to have you."

Tiff stood before Natalie. She wore a full latex bodysuit.

"Have you been a bad girl, Natalie?"

"Yes, Tiff."

"Mistress will be fine."

"Yes... Mistress."

Tiff stepped behind Natalie. With two eager hands, she wobbled the white globes of Natalie's ass.

"You're quite a specimen, mama."

"Thank you, Mistress."

She reared up and issued a series of full-palm smacks against Natalie's bottom. This was a new sensation for her: pain, yes, but also tingling. Warmth. After every volley of swats, Tiff would caress the tender flesh with her palm. By the time she was done, Natalie's impressive ass was red all over. Tiff slid a finger into Natalie's slit and found it sticky with cum.

"What is a married slut like you doing here, naked in the basement of an affirmed lesbian? So desperate to get fucked you'll do anything, won't you, you little slut?"

"Yes, Mistress, yes!" Natalie squealed.

"But, then again... why should I? Maybe I just wanted to spank your fat ass. You're a married slut. If you need to be fucked, get Tom on a plane and have him stick his little worm in you. That's his job, not mine."

"Please, Mistress. Please!"

Natalie realized she was begging just like the dream.

"I own any hole I put my cock in. Do you agree to the terms?"

"Yes, Mistress. Yes! Please fuck me. Please fuck me."

Tiff stepped into the harness and fastened the black latex dong to her waist. She guided the head into Natalie, entering in one fluid motion. The cock was bigger, both lengthwise and widthwise, than any that Natalie had ever had. Tiff pumped her relentlessly, sticking one heeled foot up on the lip of the bench to get even deeper inside her. It felt so good that she wondered what she would have to do to feel this all the time. Her anxiety and doubt had subsided, and the latex cock inside her was her entire world, now. Tiff peppered her still-red ass with periodic swats.

"How's that, slut? How's that?"

"So fucking good, Mistress!"

"Maybe we should get Tom down here to learn something, huh?"

"Uhnhnhnhnh he could never learn this," Natalie moaned.

"Then I guess you're mine, slut."

It wasn't long before Natalie felt the full-body orgasm closing in. Sensing this, Tiff continued pumping steadily; she had been thrusting with so much force that the dildo was pounding against her own pelvis, causing considerable pain. Such sacrifices were sometimes necessary when training a slut. She knew this well. Finally, Natalie was gripped by the rushing orgasm. She convulsed on the bench, enveloped in pleasure. Tiff unhooked Natalie's wrists and ankles from the bench. She ran her fingers through Natalie's hair, and, being unable to help herself, gave Natalie's ass an encouraging pat.

"Good girl. How are you feeling?"

"Amazing, Mistress."

Natalie flipped on her side, propping her head with a hand.

"I didn't know I could feel like this."

"Good. If you ever want to feel it again, you'll do exactly what I say."

"Yes, mistress."

Epilogue:

Before long, Tiff's friends, Melody and Pam began joining them. She spent time with the three dominant women, both together and individually. The arrangement worked out well for a while, but the three friends did sometimes fight over her. It wasn't unusual, towards the end, to hear them bickering:

"She's coming home with me tonight," Tiff would say, slamming a thick margarita class on the table.

"The hell she is. You always get her," Pam would say.

"Finders keepers, losers weepers."

"Ladies, please."

"Stay out of this Melody! You can't bring her home anyways--Gary's probably asleep on your couch."

And so on, and so on. It went on like this for a while. Natalie liked being the object they fought over. It was a far cry from the years of neglect she'd experienced in her marriage. And with the children now in college and out of the house, she divorced Tom. She decided to downsize and sell the house. On Tiff's recommendation, she hired a handsome butch contractor named Wendy to redo the kitchen cabinets. During the renovation, Wendy and Natalie fell in love. They got married and run a bed and breakfast in the country. Life is so strange, sometimes.

It was unclear to Natalie whether her life with Wendy represented yet another path, or if it was merely an extension of the path she'd started on the day she met Tiff. Whatever the truth, it wasn't boring. It was many things, but it was not boring. Tiff and her associates were sad to see their slut go, but they were also glad. Sure, they could be cruel, sadistic bitches, but they were happy. Who can be mad about love?