Back-Door Angels: Lie Lo Girlfriend

Title: Back-Door Angels: Lie Lo Girlfriend

Author: Lionel Murphy

Celebs: Lindsay Lohan

Codes: lesbian, anal, hooker,  FF , drugs , oral, fDom , ws

Disclaimer: This is fiction, it did NOT happen. Fantasy is legal.

I made my first billion in Massachusetts biotech – but then lost 60 % of it to my former partner, Cathy the ungrateful dentist, when we split, because her divorce attorney was just so much sleazier than mine. I started all over again and made my next two in Californian renewable subsidies in 4 years , and doubled that in shale in 11 months. My latest opportunities involved infrastructure deals in the sick economies of Europe. If you are an American living in London it is all very easy -a “doddle” as the Brits say –  and most especially if you have money, as the landed gentry are all over you like a rash. London has wonderful art galleries and great restaurants. It’s a very tolerant and cosmopolitan city. Tolerant even for middle aged dykes, like me. But less tolerant for proud middle aged republicans, like me.

I just can’t go U-Haul anymore. At my age finding a second life partner with a high enough drive and  IQ is impossible. In any event, with marriage equality looming, and London the divorce capital of the world, any relationship that lasts longer than 23 months is a disaster if you have money because the divorce law predators ensure that greed just doesn’t discriminate. And pre nups just get the family law vultures and the family law fraud factories more excited than Bill Clinton at an in turn interview.

When I got to London I decided that it made more sense to invest in much shorter-term friendships. My $ 5.4 billion is, by any stretch of the imagination, “fuck you money”. And the most important thing about accumulating fuck you money is that I can afford to fuck who I like, when I like, and where I like. Most people have a price and if they don’t, well  they do by pretending they “sacrifice for a relationship”. My preferences are just the same as any other regular billionaire – fresh young blondes, nubile, curious, tight and none too bright.

I started out by hiring girls from the high-end escort agencies, but was soon disappointed by a series of robotic Russians. So I employed a well-connected 35 year old Sloan Ranger with a generous budget to buy the work of struggling artists, designers, and to host some high-end fashion after parties. Tara was dumb and stoned most days, but as a former Roedean prefect she was just so well connected. The investment soon paid off everywhere – except the P &L.  Within 3 months Tara had introduced me to Lenka, a 20-year-old Czech model who was very keen to earn extra pocket money putting my scarf collection to its very best use in Barcelona for a few months. Then to Beatriz, a 19-year-old redhead Brazilian lingerie giraffe who came with me to Antwerp for a weekend just to see how much fun eating liquid chocolate could be. Tara befriended a platinum haired 20 year old Afrikaner who came to  my ranch outside Buenos Aires for 3 weeks and enjoyed a  special kind of pony club. In turn the Charlize wannabe had a friend who was a Spanish runway model with a  specialty in steam cleaning  with mugwort as her morning after trick. I laughed but it works.  I received an unsolicited set of selfies on my snapchat from a petite 18 year old Italian friend of Beatriz, Paolo, who immediately accepted my offer to go on a girls shopping trip to Hong Kong and back in my Gulfstream, almost all of it on her knees with her tongue put to its best use. Two pretty 21-year-old English waifs told me that  “trying out the lifestyle “with this lean 54-year-old blonde bull in Copenhagen for 7 weeks was “a real privilege, thank you Mam” in return for which I bought them adjoining Chelski terraces so I could visit them again when I had a spare weekend. There is just no shortage of opportunities – the Greek economy is so wrecked right now that a holiday in Eresos with 3 special Greek sisters , poolside in a villa,  is even more fun than closing time at Henrietta Hudson’s.

My young friends are usually weak, willowy, nubile, curious and desperate. Everyone wants to “try out the lifestyle” and the fashion industry is now run by women, as is the natural order of things, and thus it produces a never ending stream of desperate cuties.  I am very generous with shopping allowances, new designer clothes, the best surgeons, a walk in closet full of Manolos,  first class air travel to see their mom, Platinum Amex, jet skis, or driving her  through Paris in a  BMW sports car with the warm wind in her hair. The more tongue pampering I get the more the travel treats, the more pavlovian appreciation each morning that is delivered,  the more  Birkin’s and Rolex’s my girlies are tossed as a bonus. If some tall blonde Estonian with a 20-inch waist wants to get high and hang off me at a club while I publicly finger her ass senseless on the dance floor, then so be it as  I am always happy to flash about my latest fashion accessory. Other woman with my wealth and tastes then began to invite me to “bring a friend”  pool parties, each of with our “personal assistants” and younger friends. There is no shortage of 19-year-old Argentines willing to act as sushi platters poolside, Japanese teens wiling to toss the odd salad, and Ukrainian ballerinas who can auto fellate on demand just to  get a champagne party started in style. One truly Great Dane was willing to feign interest in my KD Lang collection and chew me incessantly for a weekend in Tangiers simply to get regular work at Pitti Immagine Uomo with my friends. A pale Irish teen, who called me “Mother” Mary all weekend, managed to work out a way we could both binge watch House of Cards together in Amsterdam, while I straddled her soft face, neither Netflix nor her service thereafter interrupted.  One vacuous 21 year old Swedish body painter did make an outrageous domestic violence charge, but cash cures so much that by the time I could say “Julian Assange eats crayfish “ the Swedish problem had miraculously cleared up. And the two tubby bull dykes from the Merseyside constabulary were very sympathetic about all the mistaken phone calls that a one night stand can make after having fallen over a few times in the bathroom.  No more heroin chic for me after that one. But the hunt for a genuine baby dyke, who isn’t looking for commitment but just cash, is always considerably more difficult than creating apprenticeships for nubile desperadoes.

However just as in business, as in life: if you snooze, you lose. When I closed the Baltic pipeline deal  in 4 days before the hedge fund Henrys even knew “what the far-king tender process was” I accepted a gracious invitation to have lunch on my co investors yacht in Cannes. At the last minute, Sergei announced that Sanela, his Bosnian wife,  couldn’t make  lunch, as she had morning sickness. A pity because there is nothing I love more than the suntanned breasts of a tall pregnant blonde in very small black bikini bottoms. So, I left my current handbag, Cecile, a 21-year-old black French sculptress with the most divine hands, to hit the shops with only my Black  Amex for her company that afternoon. As the appetiser was served Sergei and I each worked the phones as we syndicated away the Baltic risk to a Singaporean sovereign wealth fund I know, and some of his “special Jew friends in Moscow”. We sold down at a $600m joint profit – not bad for 16 days’ work and kept a 12%  free carry – and all done just before the Chilean ceviche was served. Sergei’s somewhat ancient but encrypted FSB era black berry kept beeping incessantly and eventually he answered it. Very rude man as our deal was now closed for second stage investors. I decided to use the john while Sergei was distracted. But the upstairs wasn’t working for some reason so one of the staff pointed me to the galley level, down near the master bedroom.

And that’s when I saw her. Red hair, down on her hands and knees, crawling around on the floor in search of two iPhones that had spilled out of her Hermes carry bag. Blubbering and high as a freaking kite. Breasts popping out of her little black dress and a large flashy crystal necklace that looked like it was from Tiffany’s latest collection.  Lindsay Lohan, well I never-  a Cannes yacht girl.

As I collected Lindsay’s phones from the floor and steadied her by squeezing her wrists, Lindsay smiled at me and muttered “spasiba”  –  or her version of it, which means  “thank you” in Russian. Lindsay then asked me in meandering English, and faltering  Russian, to tell Sergei she “was ready, fucking ready, and sick of waiting”. I smiled at Lindsay, shook my head as if I didn’t understand, told her in German that she could do so better than blowing a fat Russian, and raced back upstairs. When I got back to the table I said nothing to Sergei as he was flustered. As I finished my desert Sergei asked to be excused early from the lunch because he had a “pressing problem “with another “distressed investment” that was “wobbly” and needed his immediate attention.  His groin was bulging so it wasn’t hard to guess precisely who that distraction was.

So I called my driver and had her make  an urgent booty call to Cecile to haul her cute little black ass back to The Barriere with undue haste. When I arrived I grabbed her by the pony tails and jack hammered my little friends head hard into the pillows for 3 hours straight. Breathing for Cecile: largely optional. I just couldn’t get Lindsay out of my mind. A celebrity baby dyke with a cashflow problem was just a perfect opportunity. Fucking perfect. I was very excited.

By Sunday night Cecile had her first-class ticket to New York and cash of $ 35,000 for 2 days work . Cecile was gone for good and as much as I enjoy racial subservience, I was bored to death  with her. So  I immediately made a call to my attorney at Clifford  Chance  in London to set up a girl’s lunch with Lindsay’s people for the Tuesday in Soho.  “I am looking to exercise my option rights over a portfolio of Hayworth revivals – but I want a name locked in before we select a director, probably Sir Peter”, I lied. It worked. Lohan hadn’t done a real movie in years. Sure enough – some 17 minutes later – her agent and lawyer had confirmed they would all be there at the lunch as well and there was just no need for us to talk to Kidman about the role as well.

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The lunch was unfocused: no wonder Lohan couldn’t get a role anywhere but in semi -porn. She was a typical millennial – texting most of the time and name dropping every 6th sentence about “Quentin” and “Gwyneth” and how “god, just everyone, I mean everyone just like, loved,  like working with Ryan”, and biting her lip much to the excitement of the 3 hetero mummies at the table. (What the hell, even I would consider giving up the gold star for Gosling with this shirt off and his ass bent over). But Lindsay had them all enthralled.

Despite the gossip it was a very ponderous lunch because lawyers are such dull and boring people, and agents are little more than press secretaries,. I asked Lindsay’s “solicitor” (you just have to love the English) to negotiate a term sheet and an equity option deal at the bar, and then revert as I had a call with “Fran “ later that day on the script. That just left Lindsay and I with her agent at the table. When the agent left for the ladies, I grabbed Lindsay’s wrists. “No phones Ms Lohan – get focused- sell yourself ”. She looked at me, brain dead, and in any event she just clearly didn’t remember so began talking about her drama classes. So I drunk from her wine glass and pointedly stared at her breasts as she looked back at me.  ” Spasiba – you are worse than Sergei – I mean you were doubtless helping him with a movie last as well, I guess? Because  we both know that you weren’t in Cannes just to host re runs of Herbie goes for the Hymen, dear”.

Lilo looked aghast when it began to dawn on her just who I was and began to explain using one of those inane LA brain vomits that involves saying “like” every 3rd word. So I cut her off, mid thought bubble, and pinched her wrists even harder. “Look, Lindsay, a girl has to eat, I understand that” I explained.  “So I just have one very important question for you – just how much would it cost to eat me this weekend, darling, all weekend “?

Lilo looked at me, and smiled, knowing she was cornered, but was clearly intrigued. “Usually 120 large for a weekend, um an extended tinder date, but for an Ann Coulter clone, it would be 70 “, she grinned. “But USD, and cash, and, like, we swap doctors certificates”.  “Sure ” I replied “So that’s 4pm Friday for you, sharp, at The Dorchester. You go to the David Tang restaurant and my Israeli friend Hanna will then take you for a shower, a pedi, give you something  by La Perla to model for me, and  my girls will do any electronic banking you want via the BVI. You will have a town car Monday at 8am sharp, not beforehand. I have hired the 7 th floor for 6 months. And , dear, I’m more Maggie Siff than Ann Coulter by the way, so be prepared”  I said handing her a special new I phone 7. Oh, and 50 large is more than enough for a little girl in your condition. So if Hanna even thinks you walked past Oddbins on the way then deal is off young lady.  Got it ? “.  Lindsay nodded acceptance. (I always love to bargain. I would have paid £ 120,000  if she even bothered to haggle).

Lindsay started searching “Wendy Rhodes” on her new Siri, chewing gum, nodding and  looking suitably impressed at what I had in mind. Her agent returned to the table. “Lindsay is very enthusiastic about the role, aren’t you  Linds “?  she glared. And added “Linds, they all say that filming in New Zealand is, really, um its  very beautiful”. Lindsay looked at me and started buffing her nails- “short nails and short hair for this role, I guess ” she said? “Do keep the long hair, that’s a must” I replied “but otherwise good” I smirked. The agent was quite oblivious to Lindsay’s other source of income and asked the question again. “Oh yes, I am very enthusiastic” grinned Lindsay “I expect to go down under and stay there for some time ” and she gave me a big smile. “You most certainly won’t be disappointed with your investment”.

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That Friday night  Lindsay arrived at The Dorchester, on time, and disguised in a scarf to avoid attention.  My girls texted to confirm that my new “tinder date” had been paid, bathed, fed, and properly prepared in their suite. At 730pm I returned to my suite, an hour and a half late, after a screaming match with  Barclays Bank, who kept me  waiting for hours at Canary Wharf.  I was very, very, very angry, and keen to get the hotel. And when I get annoyed I get very “randy”,  as the Brits say.

Once back at my suite I pressed the buzzer to let security know I had just arrived. I quaffed a shot of Glenlivet 21 on ice,  just for courage, as the lift door opened onto the 2 adjoining suites I maintain during my renovations. Finally, at long last, there was Lindsay-  elegant, feminine, stylish, petite, her long red hair in a bun, her face entirely makeup free apart from some soft lipstick. The white Anne Barge  bridal dress that Hanna had purchased for her displayed the right amount of cleavage.  At 29 Lindsay was a decade older than my typical weekend companion. But then again she was almost half my age and weight. And drop dead gorgeous.

“Where to begin, baby “? asked Lindsay as she curtsied in front of me.

I motioned for Lilo to walk over to me and instructed her to stand perfectly still. That allowed me to walk around my new acquisition, inspecting her delicate frame and leaning in to imbibe the whiff of the Hermès Faubourg that had been lightly splashed on her neck and chest.  I stopped behind Lindsay and began to run my hands over her face, closing her eyes and tweaking her nose, putting a finger in my scotch and moistening her trout pout, then massaging the ice onto her nipples, pinching   them as hard as I could- just to remind my subby of the hierarchy for the weekend.  “Total homage is always the right etiquette when a baby dyke welcomes her alpha home, my dear”.

Lindsay well understood her place. She immediately knelt before me as I hiked up my hand made Wickstead and she dutifully disappeared underneath. Lindsay began by nibbling on my thighs, and kissing my Bordelle panties, as she rubbed my mons.  She continued rubbing above my bone with her forehead, her hands clenching my buns. Her tongue work was especially good – discarding my pubic hair as if were the last bit of parsley on a plate at Vic & Anthony’s. Lindsay began exploring me. First to probe my vulva and then a tongue to tweak my anus. A true baby dyke. Lindsay had been especially well trained by Samantha- and was so much better than the formulaic Delevingne wannabes who told me they were “genuinely bi sexual” as they inhaled lines off my chest.

“You are to call me girlfriend this weekend “I instructed Lindsay.  “I am not your mommy, and I am not some bored middle-aged house wife trying out “the lifestyle”. And my name is not baby, it is girlfriend this weekend. And your name is girlfriend. Darling a femme should only speak only when spoken to – okay girlfriend”.

“Yes girlfriend” Lindsay replied, her tongue disengaging from flicking and blowing on my labia just long enough that she could respond as instructed.  I cupped her chin, tapped the back of her head and looked at her . “So tongue out, chin up little girl,  and earn your money, you exquisite little fuck toy”.

Lindsay recommenced by stroking my strong leg muscles-  and leaving bite marks on my thighs every once in a while. As I reclined back on my desk and spread out, Lilo dutifully made her way up to my hood, multitasking with her tongue, varying her angles, flicking my clit as a tease, but focusing all her oral energy back on my beef curtains. I began to chill out as the licking became softer and more rhythmical, and she began to provide proper deference. Her impish tongue, soft and wide, flattened out as Lindsay began to make a rhythmic licking motion, devouring me as if I were the last ice cream cone on the planet. Her fingers, her tongue, her nose, her tongue, some biting , soft air, much kissing, praise about my strong physique, another finger, rubbing me, kissing me, biting my thighs. Then the focus shifted to my clit, pushing it back and forth, nibbling me, thanking me, darting upper right, then blowing softly. Telling me how much she was enjoying it all. Totally obsequious. Devouring my groin, telling me she was so lucky and so eager, all building until I began to unleash the anger, patting Lindsay gently on the head at first and then grinding my pelvis into her face to get  off. What a good little girl – serving her girlfriend well after I had orgasmed. Grabbing my bum just the way I like it afterwards. Lindsay looked up, smiled and remained blissfully silent as I reached for the Bose control and a second malt.

I am 6’1” and a marathon runner, whereas Lindsay is less than 5’4”, but a toned little gym bunny. I grabbed my new girlfriend under her arm pits lifting her up to kiss her lips and tongue, and simultaneously stick a finger in her puckered little anus. Lindsay jolted and spat my girl juice back into my mouth. She began to bite my neck and begged to be “fucked completely senseless this weekend, girlfriend, all weekend girlfriend until you drop from exhaustion”. Now this is what I was paying for – a nymph with a sex drive equal to my own. I put Lindsay down and slapped her hard across the face. “I want more, so much more, baby dyke, and I always get what I want, okay”?

“Take the lead  alpha girlfriend” Lindsay purred. I unfurled her bun, letting her beautiful red hair fall out, and ripped her bridal dress open. Her breasts were a work of art.  “Please take control, girlfriend ” Lindsay pleaded placing my hands under her silicon implants. The coquettish voice turned me on even more.  I fed her my glass of scotch , tipping the rest of the bottle liberally across her chest.  I pulled Lindsay upright and placed her soft small thighs on my shoulders as I kissed her tiny stomach and tongued her clit as she squealed with delight. At less than 50 kilos Lindsay was tiny. But she has a body just built for fucking- breasts that never tire, a tight perky little ass, and an erotic enthusiasm which I hadn’t seen in a fawn for 20 years, at least. Lindsay’s saturated silk panties were now firmly pressed against my nose. I nuzzled them aside only to be greeted with the very best kind of vertical smile one girlfriend can give another.

The moisturiser, the scotch, the baby oil and the strawberry lube had worked wonders together to create a smell that was simply intoxicating and an opportunity waiting to be taken. I interrogated Lindsay’s tufts of girly red wispy pubic hair with my tongue for a few minutes, then let her down so she hung around my shoulders, her ankles resting on my hips. Lindsay stared straight at me, smiling as she balanced on my arms, stroking and kissing and licking my strong arm muscles. My mouth made straight for Lindsay large breasts, the Glenlivet making them taste a real treat. Pert, white, inviting and very full. I carried my redhead trophy wife towards the hallway and pushed her back onto the wall. Lindsay grimaced as I bit each breast, and she began pushing back, which I do like so much, but which I always ignore. I could already sense the oxytocin discharge as Lindsay began to relax in my strong arms and as then put two fingers inside me.

I have always regarded drawn out foreplay as just so overrated, even when I transitioned from other stone femmes to “the innocents”,  as I got older. Fingering is what teens do. I like control, and I demand respect. So, to take what was mine for the plundering, I shoved four  fingers into Lilos mouth and made my hand into a duck bill. Lindsay stared at me. Without further ado I took It out of her mouth and opened her up by pushing my duckbill straight inside of her moist womanhood. When tonight’s girlfriend began to yelp, I began to twist. The look of surprise was priceless- her little grey eyes began to pop right out of her tiny skull. My fist now began pushing deeper, opening up the little breeder, as I ravaged each breast and bit her shoulders, asserting my dominance and telegraphing that my lust was not to be easily satiated. Lindsay’s womanhood started to clench my wrist spasmodically. Just as my new fuck toy began to build a new level of resistance  I grabbed the diminutive black pearl necklace I had given her as a gift and began to twist it around her neck and bite any hands of protest that got in the way. Lilo’s eyes bulged again as she began to asphyxiate, so I bit her again, and pushed her harder against the wall, as I watched my concubine convulse and then explode into a series of wonderful orgasms. It was a technique all the rowing team perfected at Wellesley, and was apparently first invented by Lying Hillary, bless her for finally getting one thing right. Pushing any little girl to do things she doesn’t expect as early as you can terrifies some of them but always gives me a proper sense of power. I especially appreciate a soft princess who can push past the pain and then explode on cue. The ability to build trust by sucking on Lindsay’s  breasts, while pushing her boundaries to perform just for me gave me a great rush. Lindsay began to kiss me furiously in rapturous thanks at the orgasms.

Before she collapsed I tossed Lindsay onto my bed, pushing her legs into a star fish, so I could see the blood I had drawn with the bites to her vag. They were but minor stains on the white cotton sheets. I mean, really, a  quick fisting is just a detox by any other name.  I pinned Lindsay firmly to the bed, tied her wrists with the ripped designer dress,  and began to grind away any resistance she had to fusing with me. Tribbing your dependent as early as you can in any relationship, of any duration, is just so important. It connects the two of you as sisters and lets your girlfriend become fully intoxicated with your smell and enables her to respect your dominance. Equal relationships are doomed to fail. I massaged Lilos freckly skin, letting Lindsay know that all was safe.  My vulva began to grind – first into Lilos soft right thigh, then her very tiny waist, her arms, her forehead, and her tight, raised, sculptured butt. Dry humping Lindsay,  baby oil liberally smeared on each other, feminist to feminist, vulva to vulva, Lindsay scratching and screeching her way from orgasm to orgasm, me pulling her hair and Lindsay kissing, begging to be slapped  and then grinding and tribbing me, as we both climaxed, then amped it up, climaxed, amped it up,  and climaxed again.  Lilo then started to slide some beads and two of her fingers inside me, bit my ass, and praised my physique and my taste in everything- sharing every thought that came into her vacuous little head. “That’s like a Warhol, you have, like, such great taste, Mary, er girlfriend” she remarked, pointing at the Chagall hanging on my wall. Sometimes I cringe being an American, and in any event I was starting to get  annoyed with her high femme manners. But having a hot young fawn fingering you and blubbering beneath you as he services you is just such a first world problem. Nonetheless I flipped Lindsay over and gave her a good spanking reminding her not to speak unless spoken to. She kept the diatribe going , and when I became more angered Lindsay dared  me to spank her senseless “ like the obedient but needy little subby I really am, my alpha girlfriend”  she whispered in my ear.  I didn’t care if we never did book club together, here was a moist young baby dyke who really knew how to engage with  her superior.  I was very impressed. After 4 minutes with my hair brush, I caved first, and Lilo thanked me again by kissing me furiously  and letting me know that she “owed me one” for the spanking.

Like any baby dyke Lindsay just needed some strategic direction on how to return the favour. I grabbed her lithe fem hands and directed her on what to do  with them – one front and one back-  just the way I like it. Lindsay grabbed some baby oil and began to piston me with such great skill that I could swear she had done this before. There she was slowly working me, servicing orifice after orifice, edging me each time just until the tremors began, so very femme, passionately kissing all my lips and then when she had me ready, biting me so hard  that she drew blood. At the same time she bit me  Lindsay whispered “knife play” in my ear and  I just had an instantaneous gush. Everything I had left in the tank raced out to greet her elbow.

I was very happy, but now sticky, so made for the shower. Lindsay knelt outside the glass, totally obedient- on her knees with my towel and moisturiser at the ready. As I began showering Lindsay spread herself and began rubbing her little hooded lady, telling me how great I looked, and asking how often  I worked out. As I began to speak Lindsay reached for the toy box and began stringing some golden ben wa balls in and out of her, telling me how much my work out routine got her off. I motioned to Lilo to join me in the shower. I used the shower head to clean us both, and excite us both, as Lilo worked me over with the loofa, shower lotion and a cloth. I directed Lilo to service me with her tongue as I reclined on the shower chair.  Lindsay was tipping the velvet for a good half hour until I decided I wanted more than a second coming earlier than Jesus.

I hadn’t done this in some time but instructed my new friend to step out of the shower with me. I harnessed Lindsay up with my clear borosilicate dildo and had her lock it tight to the harness, as we held hands and headed back into the mist. I sat down again. Lindsay looked so hot as she began to plough me while I sat on the chair, the steam relaxing me even further. As the 3 shower heads kept running Lindsay serviced me nice and good, thrusting, grunting, her lust and her anger pouring into me, her breasts bouncing up and down just for my enjoyment. So aggressive, so eager to please me, yet so dainty. A perfect baby dyke, a vibrator with conversation. Most nubiles, and even the English rugby girls,  last 45 minutes in my shower before they collapse. But Lindsay was very versatile and worked me for a good 2 hours, only making one mistake when she asked me to “suck it”. Lilo was near delirious with the power of the strapon, although as a giver there is little physical connection, but that’s never the point.  Because I hadn’t trusted anyone to reciprocate for 4 years I climaxed very quickly when all the anger and stress  had been fucked out of me. After I came Lindsay turned all the shower heads off, dried me, kissed me hard, moisturised my groin with more baby oil, and held my hand as she guided me back to our bed.

“You can get whatever you want after that my little purple star” I told her cupping her fresh white bum cheeks.

As Lindsay shaved me asked if she could have some of the Cristal that was in the fridge– “its real thirsty work, um, um, err, girlfriend” she stuttered, explaining that “I’ve, like fisted a few friends, and one Hollywood exec serviced me with a strapon, but , like, I’ve  never strapped someone else before and it’s like, well its  just such a rush, huh”. It most certainly was.

Which reminded me – we did indeed need some refreshments. So I rang for drinks. One of my assistants, Ana, arrived with the Bernkastel ice wine and  2 large bottles of “the best kind of French shampoo, darling ” as one of my Australian co investors calls Cristal.  Ana was a blonde Estonian teen mom, about my height, who I had initially employed to teach me Russian for a few months early last year -much of it horizontally as it transpired. Ana knocked and I lead her by her leash, carrying the drinks tray, into our bedroom. Lindsay smiled at the gagged maid in her tight Basque, and as Ana was blindfolded,  Lindsay moved forward to pour glasses of ice wine and said she was always up for a 3 some.  “NO” I commanded.

I began to knead one of Ana’s breasts and motioned to Lilo to join me in the fun. We were especially thirsty and we began, as a couple, to drain Ana’s milk supply, squeezing each other’s hands as Ana began to flow milk from her swollen breasts as freely as Guinness in Dublin after an Andrea  Corr concert. As Ana began to pull back, I could see Lilo’s teeth marks firmly implanted on the left nipple. As Lindsay and I locked in for a second round of daily feminist nutrient supplement  Ana began to cry and pushed us both away, somewhat defensively, but causing Lindsay to fall off the bed and hit her head on the floor. At £ 900 an hour that’s just unacceptable behaviour from any service provider. Especially Eastern European trailer trash.  No one disciplines my girlfriends but me. Hired help like Ana need to understand that they must earn their money, not expect it as of right from one percenters. So I backhanded Ana, and hit her hard in the groin and stomach until she apologised. Lindsay become so excited by the discipline that she had thrust her pelvis up in the air and was beginning to rub one out for my approval. I reached for the jeroboam and began rehydrating Lilos groin myself. Lilo pushed the bottle inside of her. The bubbles from the champagne caused Lindsay  to orgasm immediately and her flesh to pop right out. A true breakfast for champions. I got so excited with Lilos private show for me that I knew that had to reciprocate with a show while Lindsay was still “fizzing”. So I grabbed Ana by her hair, pinched her nose and opened her jaw, letting fly down Anas throat spraying her hair, holding open her jaw, as she repeated “sorry Ms” as my urine drenched her face, hair  and body. Ana glugged down every sweet golden drop that my loins could produce, thus making amends for her earlier mistake and thanking me profusely for the pleasure of me showering her. Ana would be gifted an apartment in Tallinn as token of my appreciation for her little performance that night.  But first  I had to walk her out of the room on all fours and only then remove her blindfold.

As I re-entered the suite Lindsay had showered and tidied up our bedroom. Lilo was buried face down in the pillows, fingering her fire crotch just for my entertainment. A nice and firm ass it is, her pink Lulu Lemon yoga paints emphasising her 23-inch waist. Lilo was furiously working three fingers inside herself. I ripped the tight little gym pants right off just so that I could enjoy the  best view in the house. There was Lilo’s clean little puckered anus, perfectly bleached. I bit her pink  ass cheeks and began to toss her salad.  Riming made Lindsay loose immediate control of her thighs and she collapsed after a few minutes, her body now tiring as the marathon wore on.  None of my other girlfriends had ever made it this far.

After some perfunctory cuddling while we were each tiring, Lindsay started to worship me again. But toe worship is purely for brain dead British royalty. I enjoy a much more playful tempo. As the Coltrane session came round again on Spotify, and she tried to introduce me to some band called Fort Minor , I dragged her by her long hair across  the wooden floor and back into the lounge room. Her weak arms were so freckled and so soft. But there was still a lot of pent up toxicity. So I stretched Lindsay out across the leather bench in the lounge – tying her wrists tightly, as I shackled her ankles. I told Lindsay she was now going to make it as a fully fledged dyke as I strapped up in front of her and got out a small riding crop. “Okay girlfriend, what’s the safe word “she asked? “Oh, stop or something I guess” I said putting the ball gag in her mouth. I love all my young brides to try to wriggle in this position- sprawled out and helpless. I adjusted my new girlfriends head so that she looked out through the glass and saw both our reflection on the London skyline. I massaged apricot lube on her labia, flicking the prepuce, and letting her know that we would soon be joined as one. Lindsay had tightened but I told her that I was soon going to fix that.  I showed Lindsay the medium sized pink dildo that I had arranged to have  engraved with our initials and the date.

“Don’t worry  girlfriend “I said “I’m not Regina George” as I fingered her. Lindsay giggled at the lame joke as  I fastened a diamond encrusted collar on her neck and flexed the reins. She was petite and still tight.  I leant forwards to lock the harness and to probe her walnut with 2 fingers. Lindsay began to whimper. The time was just right.

I grabbed Lilo’s weak little girl hips and thrust the strapon straight into her very tight, very cute, puckered little asshole. Lindsay began screaming her  head off at my change of orifice selection , but the ball gag muffled  everything from The Complaints Department. Lindsay screamed “safe word, safe fucking word, stop, not my ass, my  pussy, only fuck my pussy, ”: whatever that meant.  I didn’t pay USD 50, 000 to masturbate some bisexual to Melissa Etheredge songs and have her shop at Jimmy Choo with me. I paid for the best lipstick lesbian money can buy. I have needs.  And my needs always involve complete control over beauty. Complete subjugation so the pretty girls know the hierarchy. They must acknowledge my power and they must always surrender on my terms, not theirs.

I ripped Lindsay s gorgeous butt to pieces for an hour as the blood of my virgin baby dyke started trickling out of her rectum. Her continuing resistance was always going to be so utterly futile.   As Lindsay began biting into the ball gag, her crying and whimpering turned me on even more. Grunting with each thrust like I was the great feminist Navratilova at her very last Wimbledon final, I impaled Lindsay, increasing both the frenzy and the depth.  Her tiny little body was in constant spasm – her hips gyrating as I dispensed with the reins and pulled her hair right off her scalp, choking Lindsay as she arched her back, reclining herself onto the strap on in full surrender. This was the best booty call I ever made. And despite Lindsay’s continuing  verbal diarrhea her nipples were rock hard throughout. So if this wasn’t consensual,  well then nothing I had ever done with any pretty little girls ever was. As I stared out into the beautiful London night sky, I knew that , just as I had planned, Lilo finally became a full fledged feminist.   Which  meant I could now begin to help her out, sister to sister , lover to lover, senior dyke to apprentice dyke.

As she lay there spread eagle I undid the ball gag, I  held my new girlfriend very tight, and encouraged her to tell me what needed fixing in her life so that I  could deal sequentially with her multiple problems. But first she had to surrender her fears in order to confront them. And to grow from a place of strength.

“Girlfriend everything you have done before this is just mutual masturbation. You are a proud dyke now okay and you will learn to be strong as women always have had to be throughout history. It’s time to women up okay”?

Lindsay nodded. “Yes, thank you , sister , um girlfriend”. She was crumbling before me. The crying went on but then she re grouped. “Thank you, girlfriend for fucking sense back into me” she said, reclining herself, her head snuggled safely on my chest.

“Despite all the challenges we face, girl, I remain convinced that the future is female.” I intoned.

“Yes “ she agreed.

“Good girl, now clean up, make our bed and then you can rim me to sleep” I joked. I let Lilo style my hair, clean my teeth , and shave me, just like any conscientious girlfriend should do each night before bed with her alpha. She wore the gold Nayeli slip that I had purchased for her. Here we were- just two American girls helping each other out.

As I held Lindsay tight, my new feldoe deep inside both of us, she fell asleep in my arms, crying and whimpering. Lindsay confessed that weekend that she did indeed need help.  So I set her “straight”: well, in my own way. There are to be no more “Russian boyfriends” – all mention of any Neanderthal or smegma inflicted male  was henceforth  banned inside our house. She was to move in to a small 5 story mews  right along the road from  the 7 stories I was having built in Kensington. Lindsay was to be permanent for  18 months. A very special friend of mine, Kate, based in Tortola, British Virgin Islands, would invest $ 14 million into one of Lindsays movie projects, not with Jackson nor Cameron, but with someone we could afford. I would teach Lindsay to invest money and manage her own career. We would explore  a CRISPR application I owned for IVF because her clock was ticking and I loved the very idea of her possibly carrying part of me to term. Lindsay would have would have a credit card collection just like any well behaved trophy bride, a wardrobe of my choice, a new bikini each  day, a new range rover with driver and Israeli guard, a cash bonus each month, and all her tattoos removed in one go in a clinic in Lucerne. I put Lindsay on a strict vegan diet. The only meat she could eat was me.

In return Lindsay would continue with her nightly homage and extend her repertoire. There would be no more clubbing nor any public “outing” on Oprah or Ellen. No more alcohol  and trashy dresses by 3rd division designers. No conversations in my house criticising my friend Steve Bannon. Discrete friends , not seen in public, just “my co investor” if ever asked. Living under my rules, living right under me.

Most important of all we agreed that we would put our networks to best mutual use. Lindsay would make introductions to her friends, other financially distressed actresses like Mischa and Tara, some fun IT girls like Herv with whom Id love to turn, and some models who are friends of Stella. Linds would host some special parties on my yacht. And my friends , successful dykes, even some curious divorced girls coming back inside the club, an ex American super model who said she never really wanted to be straight, a few of the German heiresses , a Spanish trust fund baby– all of us looking for fun and opportunity, could then meet new and vibrant girls.  My friends could help Lindsay’s friends out- maybe an  apartment purchase in New York for her 19th birthday after 9 months of obedience training ;   or perhaps some Cartier shopping excursion in New Bond Street after a group slumber party in  Marrakesh;  or a visit to an LA surgeon for a 26 year old giraffe after a special masked puppy party in Berlin. And let everyone just swap it around a little so that we all become close friends. Whatever is mutually beneficial.  This hook up culture is just great. I am convinced that there are just so many dumb but cute millennial B grade celebs who will  try out batting for our team. So much young celebrity tuna to taste and yet so little time to enjoy it all.  For me, I just want to fuck it all.

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