Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Emma

Chapter Four: Three Mommies, Twin Puppies, and a Brat Named Trouble

Arm in arm, Bunny and I descended the staircase, our giggles fading into a breathless hush as the scent of dinner drifted up.

This wasn’t just any dinner. The table—a single slab of long, dark mahogany, polished to a reflective sheen—was set for an all-out banquet. Silver gleamed; crystal glittered. The food was arranged with almost erotic attention to detail: pomegranates split open like lips, honey pooled around roasted figs, candied pecans, garlic venison, pale cheeses, grilled bourbon salmon over a summer salad with peach vinaigrette. There were eight sitting arrangements in total.

Bunny let out a delighted gasp. “Oooh, she’s spoiling us tonight!”

Now that I was dry and barefoot, the carpet underfoot felt deliciously thick, like stepping on a woven cloud. I curled my toes in its deep pile reflexively, my pussy still buzzing from Bunny’s kiss.

Miss Ashcroft noticed my kiss-smudged lips. Naturally. Silent approval blazed in her eyes.

She stood at the head of the table wearing only a spotless white apron tied around her waist with a dainty bow in the back, and deep red lipstick that matched the wine on the table. Her bare legs gleamed. Her breasts, full and high and lovely, pressed against the fabric, teasing the nipples without exposing them. “Ah, my girls.”

She walked slowly toward us, her tread silent on the thick carpet. Bunny bounced forward and practically leapt at her. Miss Ashcroft caught her with both arms, kissed her cheek, then released her gently with a pat to her tail.

“Place cards, Bunny.”

“Yes, Mommy!” She raced over to the sideboard and snatched up a small stack of folded cards, then began to skip around the table, propping one next to each plate. Every card had a name, done in an elegant cursive hand.

Miss Ashcroft studied me. “You wear your true self well, Lily.” Her eyes moved over my new outfit—the pleated miniskirt, the nearly transparent tank top, the pink collar—and lingered at my nipples. I was trembling inside with arousal, trying to remain cool and calm with little success.

Something about her seemed to soften and warm. “I know what you want, child,” she said. “From me, from my daughter, from all of us. And that wanting is what makes you beautiful.”

I was suffused with a delicious warmth, as if I’d swallowed a star. “Um, thank you,” I managed, throat dry. I ached to call her Mommy, but wasn’t brave enough to utter the word. Fingering my new little sister’s bottom right after discussing piss play was one thing, but…

The doorbell chimed.

“Ah.” Miss Ashcroft didn’t flinch. “Bunny, be a darling.” Bunny squealed and hopped toward the door with her tail bouncing. “Lily, come stand beside me. It’s perfectly all right if you feel nervous, but trust me, there’s no need.”

When Bunny opened the thick oaken door, a tall blonde woman appeared, dressed in a corset-dress of white brocade that flared at the hips like an antique bell. There was someone behind her that I couldn’t make out.

“Lily, darling, allow me the pleasure of presenting one of Lollipop Lane’s most artful residents. Miss Evangeline is what happens when grace seduces taste, and neither survives the encounter with their heterosexuality intact.” Miss Ashcroft gave my bottom a little squeeze. “You’ll adore her, just wait.”

The woman was positively beaming at me. “Oh, what an absolute diamond. Lily, I’m in love with you already.” Miss Evangeline’s voice was flavored with something exotic and European, and as her gaze swept over me, her hand flew to her breasts. Very dramatic.

High lace gloves covered her arms to the elbow…and out of nowhere there appeared a girl, clinging to one of Miss Evangeline’s arms.

No, two girls. Matching, mirrored, perversely wrong in the way only identically dressed twins could be. They each wore soft pink ballerina outfits that showed stockings up to loli-style garter belts…and that was all, besides having their hair tied up in twin buns that reminded me of puppy ears. Their eyes were bright blue, their bare slits fully exposed.

Miss Ashcroft placed a hand on my shoulder as if I might try to bolt. Fat chance of that. “These are Miss Evangeline’s daughters. On the left is Cherie, who cries during cunnilingus if you finger her in just the right spot. On the right is Petal, who’s terribly well-behaved until you tell her no.” She gave a mock sigh. “We call them the Broken Puppy Girls. They’re never more polite than when they’re plotting.” She leaned in close and whispered silkily, “They’ll try to climb into your bed later, but don’t worry. It’s considered rude not to let them. Girls, this is Lily. She’s fresh from the world’s cruelty and just beginning to understand how good it feels to be tongued.”

Before I could process that, the door creaked again and two more guests arrived.

If Miss Evangeline and her littles had been inspired by a sort of Lolita fashion sense, this woman seemed to have been influenced by Lara Croft. Her weathered and tanned leather jacket was unzipped low enough to show off the swell of perfect breasts under a thin gray tank top, sweat-darkened along the sternum like she’d just jogged in from a jungle chase, her skin bronzed by the sun. Denim cutoffs clung snugly, almost enough to outline her slit, cut indecently high to flaunt the full length of her sleek, athletic thighs. Healthy soil-dark hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, and her plump lips looked made for the softest, most affectionate kisses.

I was immediately intimidated. This was obviously a woman who came hard, often, and never on her own.

Behind her, dragging her boots, came a girl barely older than me who looked like her favorite pastime was burning schoolbooks on the principal’s front porch. Hair buzzed in a radioactive red undercut, this punk-girl wore a too-short clubbing skirt, combat boots, and a tattered black tee with MOLEST ME MOMMY written in glitter across the chest. Her smeared red lipstick was evidence of a recent makeout session, as were a pair of hickeys fresh and red at her collarbone.

She was magnificently cool.

“Lily, darling,” Miss Ashcroft said smoothly, “this is Miss Rowan, our resident travel adventuress. She is the only woman I know who’s ever made a college professor orgasm in the back of a moving jeep during a firefight.”

“Miss Ashcroft exaggerates.” Miss Rowan smirked, peeling off her jacket. No bra. She smelled noticeably, blissfully, like fresh pheromonal sweat. Wowie. “It wasn’t a jeep. It was an armored Land Rover with a sunroof—the position required it. And it’s not like I was going down on her. I did the deed with my fingers.”

“And that charming little molestation menace at her heel,” Miss Ashcroft continued with fond affection, “is named Trouble. She’s absolutely impossible… and I’ve never sat on a more talented tongue.”

Trouble popped her gum and gave me the finger, eye-fucking me with prolonged intimidation while slipping her other hand beneath the waistband of her slutty skirt.

“She bites,” Miss Ashcroft whispered conspiratorially near my ear.

Trouble overheard us. “Goddamn right I do,” she hissed.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

“So,” the adventurous Miss Rowan said, slicing into a glistening fig and somehow making it feel like foreplay, “you’ve really never heard of the Lane before?”

I blinked. My fork hovered somewhere between my mouth and societal crisis. “I mean… I’ve heard rumors. The stuff girls talk about at school, mostly.’”

Miss Evangeline chuckled, soft and sensuous. “My love, those rumors are adorably incomplete.”

The puppy-twins giggled in an eerie kind of stereo. One of them, apropos of nothing, turned to Trouble and began licking—of all things—the punk girl’s tattooed shoulder. Her twin stared my way, smiling like she couldn’t wait to do something similar to me.

“Well,” Miss Rowan offered, spearing a chunk of pear with her fork, “we could tell her the truth. Or we could blindfold her and let her learn all our flavors by—”

“I’m not licking anything blindfolded tonight,” I said quickly.

“Fucking hell, girl, live a little.” Trouble—who also answered to “bratty bitch,” when Miss Rowan snapped her fingers—laughed as the little porcelain doll of a girl fondled her tits. “First time getting fucked by your mommy-lover is always scary. But you’ll love it. I can smell your cunt from here.”

Miss Ashcroft smirked, indulgent. “Language, darling.”

“She loves it,” Trouble insisted.

“I… I’m kinda sure I do,” I whispered into my glass.

Miss Evangeline dabbed at her lips with a damask napkin. “My girls and I came here after an unfortunate incident at a very repressive boarding academy in the Netherlands. They don’t allow collars to be shared by teachers and students. Not even beneath uniforms. Tragic.”

Whichever twin was nuzzling Trouble’s ear detached herself to declare, “I got expelled for kissing my piano teacher.”

“They were doing Netherlands kissing – that’s the sexy kind!” the other twin insisted, smiling affectionately at her mirror-image. Then she swivelled in her seat to face Bunny, who immediately began making booping noises before the two girls came together in a heated kiss.

“As you’ve no doubt noticed, we’re rather fond of mischief-makers here,” Miss Rowan offered. “In fact, I just got Trouble off parole. Lollipop Lane has better tasting brats than the penal system.”

“Can confirm,” Trouble said, her voice getting heavier, eyes falling at half-mast, “Mainly ‘cause I’ve tasted ‘em all. What about you, new girl? What brought you over?”

Everyone was looking my way, making me self-conscious – but I pushed those feelings away, forcing myself to make eye contact. They’re friends, I thought. Even if I barely know them, these are my people.  “I, uh… got kicked out of a party,” I began. “And I’ve been bullied at school for a couple years now, all because of a stupid crush I had on a teacher. Then there are my fucking parents, who pretty much hate me – y’know, they can’t deal with having a queer daughter. Anyway, about two hours ago Miss Ashcroft found me on a bus bench in the rain, crying and miserable. She offered me cocoa. And a new home.”

“Hell the fuck yes,” Trouble murmured. Instead of the expected rough teasing about the shitstorm that was my previous life, she raised her glass to me. “You’ve got a sweet, innocent ass just begging to be tongue-fucked, girl. What kind of porn do you watch?”

“She’s innocent,” Miss Ashcroft agreed, “but not fucked. Not yet.”

All the girls around the table shared glances and giggles. I tried to join in, but couldn’t stop thinking about the way my new guardian said, Not yet.

There I was, getting nibbled into my cult initiation, and all I could think about was how ready I was for these women and girls to really sink their teeth into me.

“So, um… what is the Lane?” I finally asked.

There was silence. Everyone was waiting for someone else to answer.

Miss Evangeline chose to speak up. “Lollipop Lane is a home for mommies, aunties, sisters, and little ones who never quite fit. Square pegs who don’t want the world to hammer them into round holes to  make them straight, quiet and obedient.” She shuddered.

“It’s a rebel sandbox for ethical eroticism,” Miss Rowan added. “No age limits.”

“It’s a puppy pound,” one of the mirror twins murmured.

Her sister piped up, “A perverted puppy pound,” and burst into giggles.

“Goodness, you two,” Miss Evangeline patted the twins on their heads. “I think you need to work off some of that energy and let the big girls talk a bit.”

That got their attention. “You mean…?” one of them asked.

“That’s right, darlings,” Miss Evangeline replied with a nod, and the two girls immediately ducked beneath the tablecloth.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

“Petal,” Miss Evangeline called lightly, not even looking down. “Use your tongue, not your teeth, lovely thing.”

“Arf-arf!” came a muffled reply from under the table.

Miss Rowan glanced at me, absently swirling her wine. “Lily, have you felt Petal’s tongue yet?”

“Ooh! I don’t think she’s felt her,” Bunny said with a squeal, bouncing a little as something happened under the table. “But I think she will… s-she…ohmigosh, t-the puppies are, like, super-duper into it tonight…!” With a long, drawn-out moan, Bunny slumped down in her chair.

One of the girls crawled by my feet and I caught a glimpse. Ballerina outfits now torn away, she was wearing nothing but a collar and a wagging puppy tail plug that curled in the air like a comma. She paused, wagged her bottom at me, then disappeared towards Miss Rowan’s chair.

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

“Oh no, sweet thing,” Miss Ashcroft corrected gently. “Tonight, it’s just girls.”

“C’mere, Petal.” Trouble snapped her fingers under the table, then scooched forward to the edge of her chair. “I’ve got somethin’ for ya… open… open, good puppy…”

Trouble’s eyes went dreamy as she relaxed fully and smiled while looking straight at me. The sound of puppy-girl panting was replaced by sudden quiet gulps.

She wasn’t…she couldn’t…

Miss Ashcroft leaned in close to me, her voice utterly unbothered, like she was discussing table manners instead of tinkle play. “At this table, darling, release is a lovely accent, not a disruption. If you feel the need, you simply let it happen—there will be no call for ladylike excuses. Your seat is lined, the floor is prepared, and as you’ll see, Cherie and Petal are quite eager to prove their usefulness. Just spread your thighs a touch and keep your posture ladylike, then let the warmth come.”

My pussy hummed at the thought, my mind whispering perverted promises as I locked eyes with Trouble, who was quite literally pissing herself like it was the most natural thing in the world. The puppy girl beneath her was humming with pleasure, eagerly lapping at Trouble’s stream, and I couldn’t decide if I was going to cry, come, or crawl under the table myself I throbbed with the realization that I wanted to be next, that I wanted someone’s piss on me and Miss Ashcroft’s approval along with it.

Miss Ashcroft turned her eyes to me. “You’re very quiet, little one.”

“Can I…?” I tried to sit perfectly still, despite the lewd chaos taking place beneath my chair. “I’m… I’m loving this. I just love this, Miss Ashcroft. Can I please take off my panties?”

“Of course, Lily. In fact, we’d love to watch.”

In silent support of my request, Miss Rowan pulled her own tank top off and cast it aside, letting her breasts free. They really were a fantastic pair. She lifted a chilled glass of wine to me in a confident, sly toast, then pressed the cold glass to the curve of one breast. The nipple puckered gorgeously.

My heart pounded as I rose to my feet, then slowly slid my undies down, my thighs parted just enough to let the cool air kiss where Bunny’s tongue had left me throbbing. I stepped out of the sodden panties and straightened, holding them in trembling fingers, my sex on full display.

I stood motionless, letting everyone look, unsure what else to do until Miss Evangeline extended her gloved hand with a smile that could’ve melted diamonds.

“May I, love?” she purred, and I placed the damp cotton into her waiting palm. She raised them to her face and closed her eyes, inhaling my scent like it was a springtime bouquet. “Mmm,” she murmured, “absolutely pure cream.”

I retook my seat just in time to feel something warm and wet touch me from below: a warm, wet puppy girl tongue trailing through my bare slit. I whimpered softly, a spasm of pleasure hips spasming while

Bunny leaned into my side, her voice hushed but pulsing with excitement. “If you stay the night, you can tinkle on the twins whenever you like.”

“I—what?” It was difficult to focus, what with the puppy girl’s tongue so insistent and… and needy… holy fuck, it felt so indescribably wonderful…

“On sleepover nights, they’re mine!” Bunny bounced in place, gesturing toward the puppy twins. “They love cuddle piles, and smelling private parts, and being tinkled on, and if you wanna wear a plug and a doggy-cock and play Big Bad Wolf, it’s a really fun game, Lily!” Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as her puppy girl did something special down below. “Oh… ohmigawd!”

Placing both hands behind her head, Trouble smugly leaned back smugly in her dining chair. “New girl’s gonna be drownin’ in cunt by tomorrow morning…”

“Oh, I don’t think she minds,” Miss Ashcroft murmured. She idly grazed Miss Rowan’s breast with the tips of her manicured, crimson-painted nails, making both nipples equally stiff.

Trouble just grinned wider and leaned forward, locking eyes with me. “I dare you to finger your clit, you sixth-grader slut,” she said. “Right now, here at the table.”

Everyone carried on like there was nothing unusual about the teen’s demand, but I could feel it now, pulsing beneath the surface like a second heartbeat. Now, I truly understood what was happening. Lollipop Lane didn’t just permit perversion, it nurtured it like one would a newly planted garden.

And my petals were blooming. I was turned on, more than I’d ever been in my life. There was no shame left in me, only a giddy, trembling sort of awe.

Beneath the tablecloth, Miss Ashcroft’s hand settled gently on my thigh. “Only if you want to, little one,” she whispered. “But if you do… know that you will be applauded for it.”

I swallowed hard. It was what I wanted, that much was true. But it wasn’t all…

She gave me a light squeeze. “Show them what a broken girl looks like, before she breaks again.”

My fingers moved. Under the table, hidden by linen and flickering candlelight, I slipped my right hand just above the sticky-hot tongue of the unidentified puppy girl to press the tip of a finger to my clitoris.

And then, with my left hand, I did the same to Miss Ashcroft, reaching over to stroke her shaved cunt.

She didn’t flinch, but her lips parted with a subtle catch in her throat that only someone close as I was could catch. Her emerald eyes penetrated mine, heavy-lidded and smoldering with heat. She wore… it wasn’t quite a smile, more like the revealing of a secret. Her hips shifted ever so slightly beneath the tablecloth, angling somewhat to give my fingers easier access. One perfectly manicured hand came up to cup my chin, perfectly languid and composed. But down below, I could feel the flex of her thighs against my wrist as she somehow restrained herself from thrusting forward.

Considering how subtle Miss Ashcroft was in taking her pleasure, I’m not sure how Trouble knew what we were up to, but she very much did. Her grin sharpened. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Take your time, Lily,” Miss Ashcroft murmured, her lips grazing my cheek. “Live in this moment. Taste your own wants. Learn how sweet it is to completely let yourself go.”

I suddenly felt the need to let everyone know what I was up to, so I ceased rubbing myself for a moment and brought a finger to my mouth to suck in front of the others, who were watching with great interest. Then I tucked my hand back between my legs and began to masturbate again, while sliding a second finger into Miss Ashcroft’s juicy cunt.

I was dripping wet, my pussy and star tingling and throbbing as if I was sitting on a live wire. Every heady thought in my skull was laced with wine, sex, beautiful women and their approval of my lewd behavior.

I didn’t want to be correct anymore. I didn’t want to pretend to be normal, or a Young Adult, or decent. I wanted to be a little girl, surrounded by women who were all probably on a list of lesbian predators.

Bunny nuzzled into my side, nipping playfully at my shoulder. “You’re so brave, sis,” she whispered. “You’re gonna be everyone’s favorite, just wait and see.”

Across the table, topless Miss Rowan raised her glass to Miss Evangeline who, from the look of it, was getting licked downstairs by her other little puppy. “To the blossoming of new flowers,” she said.

“To darling Lily,” added Miss Evangeline.

They toasted, intertwined arms, and sipped.

I leaned forward and kissed Miss Ashcroft.

Her tongue greeted mine like she’d been waiting for this her entire life.

As our kiss deepened, something in me snapped; a leash finally broken. I was trembling from head to foot, feverishly circling my clit with one finger while the puppy girl beneath the table lapped at my open cunt, but it was this woman’s tongue that sent me spiraling – slowly tasting, licking every part of me with the control of someone who knew exactly when I’d break. My fingers a blur, I came with a strangled cry as Miss Ashcroft suckled my bottom lip, bucking against the puppy’s tongue, heat flooding through me as if my climax was too enormous for one body to contain.

All through my orgasm, Miss Ashcroft continued to kiss me, calm and all-consuming, feeding on my gasps and coos of delight.

And when it was over, her fingers stroked my cheek as if I’d just done something so, so adorable.

“My lovely little sweetling,” she sighed, pleased. “Ah, yes. I think I’d like another…”

On to Chapter Five!