Girl for Girl Revealed

Trax and I drove over to a fairly industrial part of town and headed down a dark, clean alley. There wasn't anyone else around so we knocked on what was supposedly the entrance to the party. It was a large stainless steel door fronting a totally nondescript edifice. It looked as if we were about to enter someone's basement garage, which turned out to be true.

Inside we were greeted by two women, both of whom Trax seemed to know from previous parties. I was relieved to have her as my Virgil for the evening since she knew her away around this scene. I should say here that I met Trax about the time I met Mr. D when she responded to a personal ad that I placed. We've been hanging out for a while but have never really delved into anything sexual. I was curious to see if that would change tonight. Although, admittedly, one of the reasons I had come was because she made it clear when she invited me that she was just going to watch tonight.

We paid our entrance fees and chit chatted with the two leather dykes at the door for a bit. They were both very friendly and welcoming. I was glad I had femmed up a bit rather than wear jeans and a t-shirt as Trax had suggested. I should know better than to ask a butch dyke for fashion advice. Granted, I'm not a high femme or lipstick lesbian by any stretch of the imagination, but I like to think I have my own thing going on as a middle aged chubby woman in teenage girl hand-me-ups I get at the Goodwill. I had on a short denim skirt all frazzled at the edges, a black hoodie a size too small for me with glittery monkeys on the chest, and my favorite black heels that I stole from Princess. And, of course, shiny pink lip gloss and sparkly eye shadow.

We made our way deeper into the dungeon which turned out to be much smaller than I had expected. As we entered there was a handsome woman about my age sitting on a small love seat. She was dressed casually in a t-shirt and shorts. One of the leather dykes who had greeted us at the door was rubbing some sort of ointment onto her calf while they bantered on about the merits of the salve. The room was pretty small and empty save for a large old fashioned gynecological table with leather padding and shiny metal foot stirrups. I should say this was the first time that a gyne table looked alluring. Especially lately since these inseminations have been about as sexy as a pap smear by your family doctor.

At the other end of the room two doors were flung open that led to a larger area maybe 20 x 40 feet or so. Inside I could see a very pale skinned chubby lady with flowy red hair tied to another medical table. Her arms were bound to her sides and her wrists were bound together and resting in a sort of prayer position on her abdomen. Her breasts were bound and her nipples were taped, maybe even pinned (I couldn't see all that well). Two plain looking butch dykes were attending to her. One at her side was rubbing and twisting her nipples and whispering menacing things close to her ear that I couldn't make out. The other woman was gloved up and fingering her.

As the scene started heating up Trax and I got up and went into the room to watch. The two tops seemed pleased with the attention and started to ratchet things up a bit. The powder white subby girl started whining and moaning quite a bit as her tops got nastier and nastier.

To their left was a nice brushed stainless steal cross about eight feet tall. A tall athletic bodied woman stood holding onto it, leaning in face first, naked save for her sports socks. I, of course, giggled at the socks, which I found incredibly charming. A shorter woman who was very femmed up in a skin tight slinky dress with a low back and a high slit up the side was gently flogging her. She seemed like she knew what she was doing, switching from floggers to canes to bats in a seemless premeditated fashion. But compared to the scene going on right next to them they seemed very tame and casual, like they were just goofing around on a Sunday afternoon. Maybe because the bottom was so stoic and never once made a peep or flinched a muscle.

Meanwhile the threesome had escalated into some rough finger fucking and the pretty redhead was cumming over and over. The top at her side ripped the duct tape off her mouth and ordered her not to scream. She tried her best but eventually started screaming these high pitched girly screams that seemed all too familiar to me and irritated the fuck out of me. The top pressed down on either side of a layer of rope that ran across her neck and started to cut off her wind supply. That stopped the screaming, as did the hand that was then quickly clasped over her mouth.

Two tall, slender women came in and checked out the eye hook on the ceiling above where Trax and I were seated. So we got up and let them set up their stuff. The top was a woman in a black bra and panties under one of those mesh one piece body suits without a crotch. She looked like she stepped out of a leather dyke calendar and it did absolutely nothing for me. Her bottom was clad in a simple leather halter and panties which showed off her perfectly toned and fake bronzed figure. I'm sure everyone would concede she had a nice body... but she did absolutely nothing for me niether. I was much more taken with the chubby sub on the table who was now starting to hyperventilate in between high pitched giggles.

When I say taken I should clarify that none of this turned me on in the way you might think. Rather I felt kind of flustered. The sub on the table was getting on my nerves in her demeanor, and yet I recognized myself most strongly in her. The closest I came to being turned on was more a feeling of envy in wanting to take her place. Not because I was attracted to the women fucking with her. Rather, I was attracted to what they were doing to her. And I knew I would respond just like her, even though it grated on my nerves so. Thankfully, it didn't seem to bother the tops one iota.

Trax and I stayed for a while more while all the scenes climaxed and everyone started cooing and snuggling and doing all that fun after care stuff. It was sweet to see all those mean tops get all mushy and gooey, but I still felt slightly irritated with everyone there. Jealous? Bored? Ashamed? I dunno. All I know is I think I learned I'm really not a voyeur at heart. And I would be one hell of a mean top if I had to listen to all that high pitched subby screaming myself.