Chicago Lesbian 5

Her tongue started at my clitoris, slowly trailing upward. My tummy, my breastbone, until she arrived at my lips. She paused there, kissing me with the taste of my own need on her lips. She took my bottom in her hands, and lifted me onto the bed. We began to make out, her hands gently caressing my breasts as she kneeled on the floor in front of me, my own small hands on her shoulders.

After drinking in each other’s lips for several minutes, she took me in her arms, moving me farther up onto the bed. Finally I arrived with my bottom on the strange cushion fixed in the center of the bed. It was molded to support my bottom and lower back. And there were restraints I hadn’t noticed before. They were wide strips of soft fabric, designed to fold over my legs as I sat in the cushion. A third such strap was under my waist. It was wider, and slightly tapered like a corset.

She looked me in the eyes. “What’s our safe word?”

“California.”

“Okay.”

First she affixed my waist with the corset. This centered my bottom on the cushion. It was snug, but soft, and supported my back comfortably. The straps at my thighs, when she secured them, held my thighs open at about a 45 degree angle. Just enough to fully expose my genitals. My pelvis was completely immobile, elevated, and I couldn’t close my thighs. Fortunately she had placed a huge towel under the seat, knowing how leaky my body would get. Of course, I could reach down and fumble the straps and corset open if necessary. She fixed this rather quickly, as I felt the fur-lined cuffs being secured around my wrists and ankles. Only when I was comfortably restrained spread-eagle on the bed did I notice the mirror on the ceiling.

I watched myself strain against the bonds to no avail. I couldn’t move my thighs a single degree closer together to cover my private parts, and I couldn’t move my pelvis an inch. Mercifully, she didn’t start with my exposed genitals. She left me lying there, the warm air brushing my skin, and went to get something. Restrained as I was, I couldn’t turn very far to see her. She came back to the satin bed with a set of two small plastic cups connected to flexible tubes. She generously licked my left nipple and areola, coating them in her mouth’s wetness, and set the cup upside down on my small breast. Looking into my eyes as she moved to the other breast, she repeated the process with my right nipple. The tubes leading from them she then connected to something under the nightstand I couldn’t see. I heard a low humming sound, and the soft rubber edges of the cups pressed into my breasts as the cups began sucking my nipples. The device under the nightstand must have been a breast pump. We had been experimenting with making me lactate, by various hormones and massage techniques.