Message-ID: <6251eli$9712101231@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) Subject: RP Estragon's Memories 1/7 Femdom Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <19971209181301.NAA16691@ladder02.news.aol.com> RP Estragon's Memories 1/7 Femdom Estragon: Memories of Underdevelopment, I/4 (Copyright 1996, 1997 Estragon Productions For adults only) It was that summer of awakening girls have. I'd just turned fifteen. That would be eight years ago, going on nine. I had this best friend, Leila - she was a couple of months older - and we could say anything to each another and try out any idea. So that was how we worked out the truth about men together. Little by little, starting with what we knew about boys just from instinct, and then imagining things together, out loud, things we would only have let ourselves imagine in private before, and then trying some of these things out for real, on real males, and then building on that. Leila and I were always building one another up too. Never missed a chance. If Leila told me I was beautiful, I told her SHE was gorgeous - right away, and if she laughed it off, tears of sincerity would fill my eyes. Maybe at the beginning we didn't really believe we were such stupendous knock-outs, but we weren't just being up-beat either, because we both understood how much of a woman's beauty the woman invents for herself. We were fifteen - not all there yet. But we knew we had the stuff to work with. I had hips and all, but I wore a bra that was one step up from a trainer. (I'm fuller now, but not colossal.) Leila's chest was bigger, but nobody would have called it huge. We weren't tall either - medium height - but definitely thin enough to look nice and long in the legs. Our bodies were similar, but our hair and skin made us look more different than we were. Leila's hair was strawberry-blond (more blond than strawberry) and she kept it cut short, but mine was Asian dark, and I liked it to go half-way down my back. Leila's skin was light too, but not sickly pale: very outdoorsy with healthy American freckles. Mine was darker, and incredibly smooth, like glass, because I'm Korean. So that's how we looked. And we'd study impressive women we happened to see on the street or in department stores, where we liked to hang out and watch the cosmeticians make pretty women prettier. Then we would go to a park or coffee-shop and analyze why we thought this or that particular woman was so awesome and what we could do to be like her. Soon it came out that all these different women were alike in one way anyhow: they had this independent look in their eyes, and there was something a little conceited about their smile, something confident and hard to please about them that we could see in their lips. You could tell that men were just bric-a-brac to them. Leila and I started wearing lipstick, and I have to say that we knew a lot more about it from all our watching than most girls do at fifteen. We loved deep, vivid colors and sharp, smooth lines you could only make with a brush. "You wear lipstick," Leila said, "and it makes the slickest boy feel like a three-year-old." And this was true. Lipstick turned us into big sexual mysteries. We would go downtown, where lots of teenagers hung out at a music superstore, and stand around teasing the boys with our womanly ways. Teasing was a girl's right, Leila always said. "No-penis gets to tease penis," she'd say. "Nature's plan." That summer Leila and I were into being sullen with people - with boys especially, but with other girls too where the need arose. We'd just discovered the joy of bitchiness. Fifteen is the age for that. You're being taught that you have to start being sweet and womanly, but you want to hold on to that selfish snoopiness you have as a little girl. There are things you want to know and you don't see why anything should keep you from knowing them. But now it's more than old-fashoned curiosity. It's brimming with sex and the power sex gives a girl. Bitchiness is nothing but holding on to your little-girl innocent selfishness when you're not that innocent any more - when you've started getting periods and wearing a bra...and fantasizing about being a bitch to boys. It's wanting to keep on being a princess when you really do have the power to be one. The people it scares - males, naturally, and females who are trying not to think about the power in their vadge - call it bitchiness, so Leila and I called it that too, but it's nothing but wanting to go on being the girl you always were now that you finally have the clout to fulfill the wishes you always had. Leila and I figured this out together. We helped each other so that we didn't become insecure the way girls do at that age. None of that insecurity is necessary, in my not-so-humble opinion. It's what happens when you agree to be something you're not. When you say, "Okay, now that I'm using tampons I'd better be nice and soft and unscarey and be every guy's mom." Leila and I made sure neither one of us said this or thought this. I never had a sister, and neither did Leila, so when we began to confide in one another and talk about things like this it was like having another self, another Erica, but blond so you knew it was another person and not just your own secret self, to discuss everything with, without any more fear or shame than if you WERE just talking to yourself. "It's amazing that we feel the same about these things," I said to Leila one day. "You always know exactly what I'm talking about. Do you feel that way about me?" "Definitely," Leila said. "Absolutely. But you know what bothers me? I mean, people - you know, the same sex - can get to be such close friends as this and know everything in the world about each other, and still not know certain things. People can be friends for their whole lives and SAY anything, it doesn't matter how embarrassing, and still never think about showing the basic things." "It's strange," I said. "You're right. Girls let all kinds of guys they're going to break up with in a week touch them and learn all about them, and their best friend who they'll love forever has no idea what their nipples or slot look like...." "Not to mention their anus," Leila interjected. "Their ass-hole." "Okay," I said. "That's right. I mean, wouldn't you think people, once they became really friendly, would just say, ŒOkay, let's undress now and look one another over,' and it would be a thing everybody did?" "Then it would just be part of what they knew. Then, whenever we're together or even just talking on the phone, I can think, or you can think, 'I know what SHE looks like. I've had a look at her slot, her ass-hole.' That would be the right thing....I'd like to do that, Erica. You?" So Leila and I headed for her parents' apartment. They both worked late anyhow (and her brother was gone for the summer), and Leila had the run of the place. It was hot as hell outside too. Leila threw on the air-conditioner and then just threw off her clothes. Right in the living-room. "I'm so hot," she said, "if you don't mind." I wanted this. I wanted to see this. But it was shocking too. The only naked girl I'd ever seen live was me in the mirror - aside from little glimpses of a tit or pubic patch in the locker-room. Leila unbuttoned her shirt and shook it off. It was sleeveless and just fell from her. Then she did the same kind of thing with her shorts. She was wearing genuine bikini panties, skimpier than my own, and they had gotten tucked up her slot. There was pubic hair, light and thin, not a lot of it, sprouting around the fabric. Leila reached up and undid her bra and off it came. Her tits were incredibly firm and high. They looked like perfect round springy cushions and had rosy puckered nipples in the middle like paste-ons. You couldn't see a trace of hair in her armpits. She put a finger into her panties and extricated them from her slot, very slowly as though it was a risky business, and then pulled them really fast down her thighs. "So that's me," Leila said. "Now me?" I said, sounding a little stupid. "Well, I guess," Leila said. "Or not, if you don't want." She sounded a little sad saying this, but she said, "I mean, I'm glad I'm like this for you anyway, Erica." I don't think I loved anyone else in the world then. I wasn't crazy about my parents, or about my little brother, and I couldn't imagine how you could love any male and feel all romantic about a person with a stupid penis hanging in front or, even worse, sticking up at you and begging. But I loved Leila. I absolutely loved her. Standing there for me to see with nothing but the hair on her head and the little triangle of it down under to cover her. She was so thin and bony. You could count her ribs sticking out under her cushiony boobs, and her hip-bones jutted out in front like skate-blades just below her little waist. I loved her and felt over-joyed that we were both women, and I stripped off my t-shirt and shorts and undies as fast as I could, just to give my friend the same kind of knowledge she was giving me. We stood there staring at each other, up and down, with no pretending that we weren't looking at what we were. It felt great, Leila's eyes going down to my tight black triangle and opening up my shadowy slot, and I could feel it and I could feel my legs separate a little for her. "Your pubic hair is so dark and straight," Leila said. "Asian," I said. "You look good," Leila said. "No, you, you do...," I said, "you're the one." "Can you see?" she said. "Oh, yes...." "I mean my vadge and lips and everything?" Leila spread open her legs and separated her labia with two fingers from each hand and kind of pushed her pelvis out. "Can you see my vadge now?" That was her pet word for it, a nice, friendly word which I started using from then on too. "And here's me," I said, and did the same. What a sight if a man could see it. Two fifteen-year-old girls looking like they're facing off with their cunts. That's how males would take it. A contest. I have more cunt than you, more crack, more clit, or something like that. But that wasn't what it meant at all. "I want you to touch me," Leila said. "Oh, yes," I said. So we went into Leila's room and flopped across her bed, then sidled right up against each other, our arms and hips and thighs pressing close, and us staring up at the ceiling, with our legs dangling over the side of the bed. The interruption of getting there was just long enough to let us get nervous. We were taking turns breathing - I would hold my breath and hear Leila breathing hard and think, Hey, I'd better breathe too, and I would start again and then Leila would stop and she'd listen. We weren't really daring to look at one other either, just staring up. Then Leila took my hand and laid it right on her little hill, and she pressed her own hand down on top of mine, and I felt a girl's soft hair and hard round bone, just like mine, and I felt incredibly happy that we were the same, two people with shy little mounds that were really harder than any penis I could imagine would ever get . Leila put her hand on my swelling too then, and soon we were slipping our fingers into each other, exploring clits, then going in pretty deep, finding out we were both virgins actually. Then we talked about smelling our fingers, about wanting to and feeling bashful about it, and then we did smell them. It was incredible how alike Leila and I smelled, sweet and tangy and definitely female. After a while, Leila slipped off the bed and planted her face on my hill. I spread my thighs for her and she stuck her nose into my vadge and tasted my lips and slot with her tongue. Then she let me do the same things to her. Then she asked me to turn over on my stomach. When I did, Leila held my buttocks firmly apart, and I could feel the cool air of the room around my hole. Leila blew on it and it twitched, but she wouldn't let it close. She squeezed my cheeks wide apart and wouldn't let go. "It's so tiny," she said, and pushed her finger in. "I didn't know how tiny they were." She managed to slip her other hand under my mound, which brought her thumb right up against my vadge, so she could slowly massage it at the same time that she explored my bung-hole. It mattered to me that a girl was causing all this bliss. As usual, Leila read my mind. "It would be a different thing if one of us was a boy," she said. "Then it would be war. If I were the boy, I'd be getting even with you for teasing me and being so superior and making my pants stick out. And if you were the boy..., well, I'd be turning you into my slave." "I like that one better," I said. "Especially since I'm safely NOT a boy." "I like it better too," Leila said. She got thoughtful, and stopped stimulating me for a few seconds. "Oh, don't stop," I pleaded. Leila resumed the exquisite movements on my vadge and ass-hole that would be enslaving me if I were a male and my vadge was a penis instead. "I was just thinking," she said, "how it would be if we really had a slave. Not a boy either, maybe...." "A man," I said firmly. "Definitely someone twice, maybe three times, our age. A teacher or doctor or something." "Who'd have to wait on us naked," Leila said, "just to humiliate him, because...." "Yes, because a man that old doesn't even believe he deserves to be naked in front of girls. What does he have to show them?" "Hair all over his paunchy stomach and flopping sex organs," Leila said. "God, you're totally wet, Erica." "The fun would be that he couldn't help himself," I said. "He just had to obey and let himself be humiliated because we had such power over him." It was hard for me to speak. I was in a daze thanks to Leila's fingers, and I had to drink in the air in tremendous gulps. "I mean, he'd know he didn't do a thing for us with his looks. He couldn't take his eyes off US - and that's how we get him, teasing, the usual thing, even if he wanted to resist he couldn't for long - we're girls, Erica, and that's the whole reason - but we had to FORCE ourselves to look at him because we knew it would make him so ashamed and humble to be seen by us." "We could make him beg to let him be with us." "ŒFive minutes, and that's all,' we could say." "ŒTen, if you get down on your knees and beg politely.'" "We could make him beg to be even ALLOWED to undress...." "ŒPlease, girls,' he'd say. ŒI'm just a poor, helpless man. Let me just show you what you do to me. That's all I want. I promise. Then I'll go quietly. Oh, please, girls. Just let me.'" "ŒThat's a privilege you have to earn,' we'd say." "ŒWell, it's all up to Leila,' I'd say." "And I'd say, ŒIf it's okay with Erica....'" "We could make him work like a dog first...." "We could make him crawl like a dog...." "Then sit on him...." "Step on him...." "Pee on him...." "Pee on him! Fabulous." "Leila, we have to...." Leila tucked her face deep between my thighs. I could just make out her muffled words. "And he'd be looking right up at us when we did it," she said. "He'd see us, Erica. He'd be lying there and he'd see it coming. And he'd be thinking, 'It's worth it to have that view.'" "Or he'd be knocked out," I said. "He wouldn't see a thing. We wouldn't even give him that. Fast asleep and then he'd wake up and it would have happenedŠ." "Wet and girl-smelling...," Leila burbled to my cunt. "Fabulous." "Can it really happen, Leila?" I said. end of part one Estragon: Memories of Underdevelopment, II/7 (Copyright 1996, 1997 Estragon Productions For adults only) Memories of Underdevelopment, II/4 The thing about Leila was that, even though she was as much of a virgin as I was, she let herself do things in her mind without ever stopping to wonder if they were normal. She took it for granted that anything she thought about doing, other girls thought about too, even if they were too timid to say so. She was way ahead of me in the things she imagined, but I was definitely down the same road, so I had no reason not to agree with her about this. Maybe I'd never let myself think about peeing on a guy before, especially a guy older than my dad, but it was pretty clear that Leila only had to mention it to get me up to speed. Once she painted the picture, it was as if it had always been in my head. I would imagine it in all its details when I was alone, when I touched my vadge, and eventually I knew that it was only a matter of a little time before Leila and I would make it happen. But sometimes I'd express worry that we were just two fifteen-year-old virgins with no experience except giving fifteen-year-old boys erections and making them act silly because of them. How were we going to make these wild fantasies come true? And Leila would say something incredibly deep and smart, which didn't even make sense to me at the time, but which I chose to believe because I loved that girl so much. She'd say, "Erica, what I think is, the wilder the fantasy, the easier to make it come true. Males aren't like us." Leila really believed that males of all ages exist for girls to play with. There was no doubt about it. Everything proved she was right: the fact that males have penises and get erections they can't do anything about, not to mention the fact that they have these testicles a girl can hurt practically by breathing on them. "Did you know all males wake up in the morning with their penises sticking up?" Leila asked me one day. I didn't know that and I was pretty impressed. "Where did you get that?" I asked her. "I mean," she said, "they're not out of bed yet and they're already pre-teased." Leila laughed at this word she'd made up, "pre-teased." Then she showed me this magazine article called, "The Joy of Teasing." It's point was that now that women are feeling independent and "assertive" (everybody used that word at that time), the old idea of the nasty "cock-tease" was dying out and women were realizing that it was a stupid idea, made up by men to keep women down, and that teasing was okay - that it was pleasurable and natural and gave women and girls a sense of their rightful power in a so-called man's world. Women teased because men were teaseable. Neither sex could help it. And it did say that all men wake up with erections and that proved something. Leila cut out part of the magazine article and Xeroxed it so I could keep it too. We spent a long time trying to understand its ins and outs, but it also really turned us on. I still have the old Xerox and this is it: "ŒTeasing is a natural and unavoidable fact of sex. It is brought into being, not by the wiles of women, but by the constitution of men.' Those are the words of Olivia Guzman, Ph.D., Professor of Psychology and Women's Studies at the University of California at Berkeley. And Dr. Guzman's words are being echoed by plenty of other authorities across the country. ŒThe very existence of women teases men,' states Spokane University Professor of Physical Anthropology Miranda Morgan, author of last year's surprise best-sellerThe Feminine Phenotype, Œand unless a woman goes to great lengths to conceal her femininity, she is going to produce the sensation of being teased - that is, of being simultaneously aroused and hopelessly puzzled - in most of the men whose paths she crosses. She really has little choice. So she might as well enjoy it, and benefit from it.' Boston-based psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Hal Limerick, M.D., concurs. Dr. Limerick, who teaches a popular course on the psychology of sex at the Harvard School of Medicine, has a simple explanation for the phenomenon which Dr. Morgan makes sound like a biological law. ŒOn the unconscious level, men can't believe that there are really people without penises,' he explains, Œpeople just like themselves but lacking those erectile, unruly penises and those fragile testicles suspended beneath. No matter how many female bodies they've observed, they remain basically incredulous.' Hearing Dr. Limerick quoted, Dr. Guzman says, ŒHe's right on the money, in my opinion. Men never get over us. That's why they can't stop staring. And why staring only increases their misery. Deep down they don't accept the fact that there are human beings untrammeled by such rebellious, conspicuous, humiliating appendages as a penis and testicles. Every female pelvis they see throws their whole world into confusion. With its smooth, undisturbed contours and elegant lines, it becomes in some unguarded, baffled region of their mind an exception to reality, a misunderstanding, a mirage they need to deny and need to believe in at the same time. Logic and experience tell them otherwise, but the mental conflict only deepens their alarm.' Dr. Guzman looks thoughtful for a moment, then she adds in an uncharacteristic whisper, ŒPoor things!'" Leila read it to me aloud, standing there like an orator with the piece of paper in front of her face. She had no trouble pronouncing even the strange words. She was that into it. It was making her feel glorious, proving absolutely everything she believed in, even the fact that she could know so much about sex just from looking inside herself. "See?" she said when she was done. "According to these doctors, I'm totally right." I didn't know what some of the words meant, like "phenotype," and I still don't, even looking it up. And I had to ask Leila to read the sentence about "untrammeled by such rebellious, etcetera appendages" a couple of times - it sounded beautiful, but.... But the fact was, there they were: all of Leila's ideas about men and boys in print in a glossy magazine for modern women. It was as if we'd gotten the official go-ahead. >From then on, when Leila and I undressed and stimulated one another, we'd always be adding to our fantasy of domination, especially of grown men, and always be thinking about how we were going to make it real. Often Leila would just be rubbing my clitoris in a rhythmic, absent-minded way that still felt wonderful, and she'd be letting her mind wander out loud at the same time. You never knew what was going to come out of her brain, but it was always sexy and important. One day she started pressing my mound with her fingers, the upper part, the lower, right and left, as if she was looking for something and not finding it. "What are you doing?" I said. "What's there is there." Leila said, "You know a word I love, Erica? ŒPussy-whip.' I love it. It's like music to my ears. I mean, I'm searching all around your pussy and I'm thinking, What do girls have down there to whip with? A vadge doesn't look too much like a whip. Not the way a penis does. But we whip with it anyway. We whip with nothing to whip with. That's the beauty of it. Do you know what I mean?" I always knew what Leila meant, even if at the very first it sounded strange to me. How I knew was a mystery to me sometimes, but I knew. "I do," I said. "That's the joke. No-penis is more like a whip than penis." Leila liked it that I was putting it that way, sounding like her. And I liked that too. "It's BECAUSE we're smooth we drive them crazy," Leila said. "Penis is so pathetic." Then we couldn't stop talking about pussy-whipping. To our way of thinking, a guy couldn't have an erection without feeling humiliated. We imagined that if we were males we would find such a thing very humiliating, especially if a girl teased us into it. We knew guys tried to make as if they had control of their penises, their big "tools," their "weapons" and "joy-sticks," but it was so obvious to any girl who went in for teasing boys up - we called it that, "to tease someone up" - that those dicks were girl-toys pure and simple and the boys they were stuck onto couldn't do anything to help it. Really, all you had to do with a fourteen or fifteen-year-old was give him a big smile while you let your hand just glide quickly over his pants and you gave him a sizeable problem down there. And Leila kept saying that it would be even easier with an older guy, not harder. "They get some extra kick being humiliated by girls young enough to be their daughters," Leila said. We started calling everything we did that was sexy "whipping." Sex was "whipping," that's all. Whenever you aroused a guy, you were whipping him, according to Leila and me. If your lipstick made him notice you, then you were "lip-whipping" him. If it was your figure, you were "hip-whipping" or "tit-whipping." We also were fascinated with the way males went crazy over girls' and women's legs. Males had legs too, after all, but they treated OUR legs as though they were totally different kinds of thing. This made heavy "leg-whipping" possible, and it was a very easy and satisfying way to play with guys, requiring no more effort than strolling down the street. But all of these kinds of whipping were also forms of pussy-whipping, because unless you had a pussy none of them worked. But there was a special kind of pussy-whipping that really involved showing a male your naked hill and vadge, and this was a tremendous privilege for the male which he had to earn over a long period of time by letting you humiliate him in a hundred different ways. And then he paid dearly anyway for what you let him see. Leila and I had it all worked out before we ever laid eyes on a single naked penis. And that was how we wanted it. When we finally graduated from teasing-school and started really exercising our vadge-power, we didn't want to be giggling girls about it. We wanted to be cool, moody, lounging bitches, yawning over the erections we teased up, making the guys who had them feel ridiculous and pathetic. Even when Leila and I undressed for one another and lay down together, all we talked about while we massaged each other was what we planned to do in the near future to males. We started playing the "If you had a penis" game. Leila started it one day when she had her finger in me. She just suddenly said, "If you had a penis, Erica, I'd tease it up with this finger and then I'd slap it down again with my hand." So I said, "And if YOU had a penis, Leila, I'd rub it all over with Melinda's Hot Pepper Penis Sauce...." "That's what I'd do to YOU, if you had a penis, Erica. Rub it with Melinda's Hot Sauce, and your balls too, which you'd have if you had a penis, and then brush them with my bristly stiff hair-brush...." "I'd take my emery-board to yours, if you...." "I'd have yours totally shaved, Erica, and then have ŒLeila' tatooed on it...." And on and on like that, laughing and feeling mean toward males and making each other's vadge sticky-wet. And then one day...we just HAD a penis, and after that lots. It happened because we'd spent a lot of time and thought getting ready for it. Admittedly, our first penis was only thirteen years old, a kid, Josh, we knew from the music store who was, besides being younger than us, goofy in love with Leila. So one day, when we're teasing him and another kid up - not that it matters, but we're in tight sleevless shirts and really tight jean-shorts, and our arm-pits are beautifully shaved and we're wearing lipstick of course - when we're teasing up the place and Josh is squirming and giggling as usual, Leila says, "First boy to unzip his fly right here on the street gets to go home with Erica and me." I was surprised, but I put on this patronizing grin, as if I was in on Leila's plan all along. The other boy says, "Are you kidding? You gonna do it, Josh?" And Josh does it. Unzips his fly right there, and, since he's erect, a round white swelling appears in the opening, Josh's penis pushing his underpants. That was it. Not such a reckless act, but to us a definite symbol of something. As was Josh's broken voice when he squeaked, "Can I really come home with you girls, Leila?" Leila had turned half away from the kid and that's how she stood. Hands on her hips, tilting her head, looking Josh up and down almost sideways. The boy stood there for Leila to look over. The little lump of white cotton poked through his fly, but he kept his hands at his side and kept lowering his eyes too, and then lifting them trying to read Leila's thoughts. If she had said that she'd changed her mind, I don't think he would even have been that upset. He'd have been glad he got to unzip his fly for her. That would have meant a lot to him by itself. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |