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Susan’s Turn

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This story follows on from ‘Susan Shops for Underwear’

*

Susan is angry; angry with the shop girl; angry with herself.

She had wanted the girl to touch her.

Susan had never been with another girl, but right there and then she had wanted that touch and the girl had seen that want and had taken advantage of it.

Susan feels ashamed at having been so obvious; so needy; so helpless.

In the shop, after the girl had left her standing naked and drained in the cubicle, Susan had felt used and humiliated; ashamed of herself, and angry at having been so taken advantage of.

Once she reaches home though, Susan becomes angry; unable to believe how weak she has been to let herself be used; that is the word; used. It is awful, and Susan has always prided herself on her independence and strength. Many terrible things have happened in Susan’s life, but she has never been defeated; never given up.

She has cried many times, and sworn at the unfairness of life, but she has never stopped going on; but she has stopped depending on anyone else or needing anyone else.

And it was this that made the scene in the shop so frightening; for the first time in her life, Susan has let someone else control her; let another person take command of her actions and even her body.

The fact is, though, that she had wanted that person to take control; that shop girl; she had wanted to be controlled by her, and had given herself up into that other person’s control

How could she have ever felt like that; ever have let that happen?

The girl was beautiful, but in a taut sort of way; obviously fit and must train regularly; swimming, from the size of her shoulders; running too, probably.

Young; competent; assured. Susan stops and thinks about that for a moment; the girl must be in her mid-twenties; Susan is 34; not fat, but not really fit.

She has been out of work for a year now. She hasn’t had an interview in months. She had worked for a finance company and had dealt with thousands of angry, depressed and whining customers who couldn’t pay their debts. Susan had dealt with them coolly and efficiently, and had made good money for doing so; she was sensible and saved, so now her house is her own; her car paid for. She has few outgoings and little demands on her time.

In the first weeks after being made redundant, Susan had pursued other jobs with fierce energy; phoning round; going to see people; filling out application after application. Then her energy had dwindled. She’d taken a cheap week in the sun, and once back in her flat, had ceased to really look for work.

That was, Susan realises, the beginning of her decline. Since coming back from that week’s holiday she has applied for perhaps half a dozen jobs; hasn’t even signed on, but lived on her savings – savings that are almost finished. She has lived cheaply, seen few people, and almost never gone out.

Susan realises that this year has broken her in a way no crisis could ever have done. She has let herself be nibbled away piece by piece; eaten down by the run of lethargic days spent lounging around doing nothing. She can’t really remember what she did the day before; the week before, the month before.

So this is it; she has let herself become weak, and in meeting someone who is strong; who has poise and assurance, has latched onto them, and given them control.

That, Susan decides, is wrong.

She gets up from the sofa where she had thrown herself on getting back to her house, and goes upstairs to her bedroom. She strips off, feeling a thrill run across her body as she does so.

She has been naked once already today.

Susan has to admit that it had been exciting to be naked in public, even though it had been in a changing room cubicle.

She sets the shower running and studies her body as the water heats.

Running her hands across her soft belly she feels; not fat, certainly, but not a fit stomach; just a little round. The same with her hips and her breasts; more than a handful, but definitely not sagging; the nipples large and firm. Susan pinches herself and smiles as her nipples harden and darken. She snatches her hand away, guilty; conflicted. She had been abused; raped, almost.

Feeling the shop girl kissing and sucking on her nipples had been a wonderful sensation at the time. But how could she enjoy being treated like a piece of rubbish? Susan stopped her hands from rubbing together.

She can’t remember the last time she has shaved or in anyway controlled her pubic hair (though thankfully she has recently shaved her legs) and it curls in a broad v down between her thighs; straggles thinly up towards her belly button. The hair is still damp from her own sweat and the shop girl’s saliva. Susan rubs her fingers into the hair and pushes between her thighs to touch her lips. She closes her eyes; sees the girl from the shop lowering herself, and presses her index finger into her pussy.

Should I be doing this, she wonders; shouldn’t I be going to the police? cihangir escort She pushes deeper.

For a few days, Susan tries to get her life back under control; she tidies and cleans her house from top to bottom; starts looking at the job pages again and even sits down to write a few applications. But as she sits there, pen in hand, she feels distracted; she writes a couple of lines and gets up to walk around; makes another cup of tea. Something isn’t working, she thinks; something isn’t right, and she just can’t focus.

That night, as she lies in bed, she catches herself casually stroking her pussy, with the shop girl in her mind. She runs through the experience in the cubicle, stroking herself faster, faster, but it’s not working; she feels nothing. She stops. She suddenly feels stupid and pathetic. She pulls her hand away and sits up. It is the girl.

The girl has made her feel helpless; had seen helplessness in Susan and exploited it. As long as that girl thinks of me as helpless; as long as I let her think that, then I’ll never be free.

Even here, alone in her own bed, the girl is controlling her; dominating her fantasies.

Susan will have to confront the girl; face her and not be dominated; not be helpless but be strong; become, in fact, the controlling one; take the girl’s assurance and destroy it.

If she can overpower the girl with her own will then, Susan knows, she will save her self.

But how can she achieve this? Should she attempt to recreate the situation and try to turn it to her advantage; exposing the girl as a sexual predator? No, that wouldn’t lead to anything but an embarrassing public scene, and anyway, the girl might not fall for it. This would have to be an act of will, woman to woman; in private; it doesn’t matter if no-one else knows what happens, as long as the girl and Susan know that Susan has beaten the girl’s will; for the girl to be on her knees and begging before Susan, then that will be enough.

I will have to confront her face to face, thinks Susan. Her body surges with an energy she has not felt in a long time; excited by the vision of confronting the girl; of dominating her. She pictures the girl on her knees because she; Susan, has put her there. She will make the girl feel weak and used; for all her physical strength – helpless.

Images of the subjugated girl fill Susan’s mind, and as energy and heat flood her body; she is sexually aroused as she never has been.

In fact, sex has never really interested her that much; boy friends had pawed and fucked her, but it was always with a sense of indifference on Susan’s part, though she had acted well enough, and even enjoyed some of it. Nor had she ever really thought about being with another woman; she had no particular objection to it, it was just something that she had never looked for, nor had the opportunity ever come her way.

But now, lying here in her darkened bedroom, Susan wants to be with the girl more than anything else. She wants them both to be naked; bodies together, but the girl hungering for Susan, and Susan withholding until the girl has broken; dominated by and dependent on Susan.

Her hands clawing at her pussy; savagely crushing her clit, Susan comes with a cry and thrashes in the bed, exhausting herself with images of the girl’s body struggling under her own.

The next day, Susan works out what she will have to do. It will be no good directly approaching the girl; that will only make her believe Susan needs her, and will leave Susan open to more abuse — she doesn’t yet feel strong enough for a direct confrontation.

Susan will have to take a more oblique approach.

Susan waits outside the shop, and watches until the staff start to leave. She feels her legs begin to shake as she sees the girl and her colleague leave. The girl was firm and beautiful; assured. Haughty, even. Susan watches the shop girl’s body; her breasts; her legs. The shop girl wears black tights, outlining her firm calf muscles.

Susan watches as the girl and her colleague walk through the town; she follows them, trying to stay in the tea time crowd yet keeping the pair in sight. She watches their body language, especially when they part; the shop girl to walk on, her colleague to enter a car park.

Susan’s senses are heightened by seeing the shop girl, and she absorbs everything she needs to, and feeling that her intuition has been right, will be able to go ahead with the next part of her plan.

It was sexy, being a spy, and Susan lay in bed that night masturbating fiercely over her mission.

“Excuse me.” The girl’s colleague stops by her car and looks round.

“Yes?”

Susan moves closer; “I’m sorry, but I wanted to see you.”

“I… don’t know you; you must have…”

I saw you; the other day, in the shop, when your friend… She.”

The girl’s eyes widen a little, and Susan sees the emotions flicker across her face; recognition, and some fear. “What do you want?”

“I saw you, çapa escort that day; with your friend.”

“Look, that was nothing to do with me; you’ll need to speak to Lauren.”

“Lauren? It’s a lovely name. She’s in charge, isn’t she.”

“She’s not my boss,” The girl says, quickly.

“She saw right through me,” says Susan; “My name is Susan, and I was wide open, and she took me back there and. Did she tell you what happened?”

“She said.” Susan nods, the girl continues; “Lauren said you really wanted it. Lauren said you were just looking for someone to take you.”

Susan has closed in on the girl, till she stands no more than a couple of feet away. “I was, I mean, I wasn’t; not someone; not just anyone. I’m Susan.” Susan holds her hand out.

“Cathy.” The girl says slowly as they shake hands. She pulls away from Susan’s grasp.

Susan smiles widely. “Cathy. That’s a pretty name. You know, you’re just like her, Cathy; so confident and so beautiful.”

Cathy shakes her head, but she blushes. “Lauren is gorgeous.”

“She’s no more beautiful than you are, Cathy. I’ve seen you before, in the shop, and wanted to talk to you, but I never had the courage until then; that day, but it was her who got to me first.”

“You were looking for me?”

“Yes, Cathy; you don’t think I am that ready every day, do you? I thought, well, I know it’s stupid, Cathy, but I hoped that if I could get you to help me fit a bra, that…” Susan’s voice tails away. She looks down. “I’m sorry, Cathy, I’ll leave you alone.”

She turns and begins to inch away, then takes a longer step.

“Wait a minute.”

Susan stops and turns back to look at Cathy, who is walking towards her; “You were really looking for me?” Susan nods. “Why, what did you want to see me for?”

Susan looks away and down, blushes, shrugs with her hands shoved deep in her coat pockets, then takes out one hand, and as she looks up at Cathy, brushes her hair away from her face, behind her ear. “I wanted you to see me, Cathy; I wanted you to… I wanted you to… I hoped you would like that; would like me.”

The girl is looking at Susan intensely; frowning. Susan smiles shyly. “Please, Cathy,” she whispers; “Touch me.” She holds out her right hand, holding a crumpled piece of paper. The other girl reaches out for it, yanks it away. Susan turns and almost runs out of the car park.

Susan waits in tension for the next couple of days; every sound from outside gives her a start, and each time the postman knocks she almost wets herself, but finally one morning, having begun to doubt her actions, fresh from the shower and wearing only her dressing gown, she gets what she is waiting for.

Susan takes a deep breath and opens the door. “Hello, Cathy,” she says and steps back to let the young girl into her house.

Cathy is dressed tightly in black; leggings and patent boots; some kind of tight black top, and with her hair tied back. She carries a bag — also black. She is dressing to look hard, thinks Susan, and trying too hard.

But Susan’s relaxation wavers as the girl looks her up and down, and her spine tingles. “Not exactly an alluring outfit,” Cathy says, sharply. Susan blinks in surprise. “I thought you wanted to impress me; make me want you?” The girl is sneering at her. “You should have come in for another fitting; isn’t that what you are after; more of the same?”

Susan swallows, feeling like she has made a serious misjudgement; it had all seemed so clear and easy in her mind. She wants to scream at the girl, but she is unable to suppress an upsurge of desperate longing; of a desire to please this young, suddenly very hard looking girl. “Please, Cathy, don’t.” is all Susan can manage to whisper.

“Take it off,” Cathy says; “get it off, now.”

Susan feels herself watching in rising panic as her hands, as if belonging to someone else, undo the cord of her dressing gown, and pull it open.

Cathy nods; “Take it right off; I want to see what I’m dealing with.”

Susan Shrugs out of her dressing gown, red faced. She stands naked as Cathy’s eyes move up and down her; resting on each breast, scrutinising her pubic hair. Susan can’t help hunching and turning away slightly. She feels crushed; exposed and vulnerable; more than simply unclothed.

“A Piece of cheap bitch like you; old; almost a hag.” Cathy says; “What does Lauren see in you?”

“Lauren; what?”

“Shut up until I tell you to speak, cunt. Yes, Lauren fucking raves about you, but I don’t see anything at all here.”

“Please,” whispers Susan, shocked. This isn’t supposed to be how it is to happen; she is supposed to be establishing control; getting her strength back, and instead she can feel herself shaking as this young, sham autocrat stares at her. And to her shame, Susan feels herself warming inside; her own body is betraying her; her pussy becoming wet under Cathy’s sneering stare. Susan wants the other girl to like her; to touch her; to want her.

Cathy erenköy escort lets her bag drop to the floor.

She steps forward and reaches out her hand to touch Susan’s right nipple. It hardens under Cathy’s touch, and Susan’s lips part, but Cathy drops her hand away. “Bedroom, cunt.” She says. “Run.” Susan turns and jogs up the stairs; Cathy follows slowly.

As she runs, Susan thinks furiously, but can’t seem to find any spark inside herself; all of her energy has vanished. In the bedroom, she stands beside the bed and waits. Cathy enters the room. “Lie down; start touching yourself.”

Susan lies down and begins to stroke her breasts; her belly and down towards her pussy. Cathy prowls around the room; opening drawers and the wardrobe, pretending to ignore Susan for some minutes, but she can’t really keep her eye’s off Susan’s body and the actions of her hands.

She moves to the bed and puts her hands on Susan’s knees, she lowers herself down to sit on the bed and reaches out to touch Susan. As Cathy’s fingers caress her lips, Susan loses all sense of arousal. It just stops; drops away as if switched off, and all Susan can feel are cold fingers touching her pussy; as impersonal as a doctor’s touch.

The situation is all wrong; this girl isn’t a dominatrix, she is a sham. Susan sees Cathy’s hands trembling. Her eyes are too bright with excitement. Susan sits up. Cathy stands. “Lie down, bitch” She snaps, but there is a shrill note in her voice. “I told you to lie down.” She almost shrieks, backing away as Susan stands. Cathy is brought up by the chest of drawers at her back, and she looks at the door, but Susan is right there, and she slaps Cathy hard across the face and laughs.

“Lie down,” She says.

Cathy makes a half-hearted attempt to speak; to regain control, maybe, but before she can make a sound Susan slaps her again.

“I said, lie down, cunt.”

Cathy stands, shocked, holding her face. Tears well up in her eyes.

Susan feels shocked herself; she’s never hit anyone before, and her hand stings. She feels powerful and in charge; she can see Cathy breaking as she watches, disintegrating into a scared young woman, but Susan feels no empathy or even pity for the girl, only fascination and this terrible sense of power.

She begins to make quiet hushing sounds; moving forward slowly, reaching out carefully to stroke Cathy’s face. Cathy flinches, but when Susan doesn’t hurt her, relaxes slightly and even turns her cheek towards Susan’s hand.

Susan catches Cathy’s left hand and lifts it to lay the palm on her own breast. Susan recognises then how being naked can be more than exposure and vulnerability; it can also be strength.

Her pussy soaking, Susan feels herself burning up inside with this new found power; her sex drive peaks, and under Cathy’s softly rubbing palm, Susan’s nipple is hard and sensitive. I need to come, and soon, she thinks.

“Lie down on the bed.” Susan says, quietly but firmly.

Cathy lies down, arms at her sides. She is narrow bodied, with small breasts. Susan has no real interest in this girl’s body, but the erotic thrill of having total command over her is too much and Susan climbs on the bed to straddle Cathy whose eyes widen. Her lips part. Her tongue wets them in anticipation of what she can see coming.

Susan shuffles up until her knees are past the girl’s shoulders and lowers herself until her pussy is over Cathy’s face. “You know what I expect,” she says, and Cathy lifts her head and begins to lick at Susan’s sodden, swollen lips.

Cathy is good, and her tongue works up and down along Susan’s lips; between them, and in and out and up to seek out her clitoris. Susan gasps and moves her hips slowly; savouring the rising tide of feeling that every slide of Cathy’s tongue draws from her.

The girl is breathing loudly through her nose; panting in air as her mouth fills with Susan’s juices and her own saliva. Susan grinds her hips down hard, crushing Cathy’s lips with her own and groans deeply at the sensation.

She comes suddenly; without warning. The girl’s teeth close on her clitoris and Susan lets out a yell as her body wrenches. She shakes as Cathy laps and laps, then falls back, pulling herself out of reach of the hungering tongue. Susan lies gasping half across Cathy, head lolling off the bed.

She lies like that for minutes, her body shivering every so often as echoes of her orgasm flit through her.

Cathy is silent, but softly strokes Susan’s thighs.

Susan could lie like that all day, but she has work to do, and pushing down the lethargy that pulls on her after such a powerful orgasm, struggles to sit up. She looks down at Cathy, who smiles nervously, questioning. Susan doesn’t smile back, but says; “Not bad.” Cathy blinks.

“Get your bag.”

Cathy gets off the bed and retrieves her bag from the hall. There is a damp patch in the crotch of Cathy’s leggings. Poor cow must be gagging for it, thinks Susan as she takes the bag. As she rummages through the bag she says “strip.”

In the bag, as well as the usual stuff, there is a dildo moulded to look like a large cock, handcuffs and a blindfold. Susan pulls the dildo out, lays it on the bed and picks out the girl’s purse. She finds a drivers licence and memorises the address, then puts it back and throws the bag down.

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