Bridget Goes Abroad
Bridget Goes Abroad III—Control By Foreign Object
Bridget stared out the bay window of Claire’s apartment. Three weeks into her visit, the vastness of London continued to amaze her. She was no stranger to city life; back home she lived in an important suburb of a major, east coast city. But for all of her hometown’s import, it could have fit easily within the boundaries of any of London’s neighborhoods. Los Angeles, Bridget knew, sprawled like London, but it was nowhere nearly as densely populated. As far as her eye could see, she could see London, and almost every square inch of it was jam packed with people. In the middle distance, the Themes shone silver grey in the late afternoon light.
“Bridgy, I’m about to put dinner on. Is there anything you’d particularly like?” Claire called from the kitchen.
Bridget sighed. So much to see, so little time. “Let’s go out!”
“Pardon?”
Bridget turned to face Claire, “Let’s go out. I saw a cute little place near Piccadilly the other day, let’s go there. I’ll even treat. And then we can go to a movie, or see a show, or go for a walk.”
Claire nibbled on her bottom lip, “I don’t know.”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”
“No, I’m sorry luv. But it’s just impossible right now. Things are insane at work, and I have too much to do tonight.”
Bridget made a small, disappointed noise.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you, and soon. But in the meantime, I have an idea.”
“What?”
“Why don’t you call Susan and see if she’d like to go out?” Claire said. “She’s constantly trying to get me out of the house, and I know she wants to practice her Italian still on you.”
Bridget thought it over. She’d rather go out with Claire, but the auburn hair, uber-sexy Susan would make for a more than adequate Plan B.
As it turned out, Susan new exactly the restaurant Bridget had wanted to try. 45 minutes later, the two met at the front door. Bridget wore a tight pair of jeans and a light, peach colored baby doll top. From the gleam in Susan’s eyes, it was obvious the older woman liked what she saw. For Bridget, the feeling was mutual. Susan’s sense of fashion, for a Brit, was surprisingly Americanized. She wore a pair of faded, low rise jeans and a white, long sleeve shirt, tied off at the middle. When Bridget had first met Susan, and shaken her hand, something had passed between the two. One didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that. That same something, lustful attraction, passed through Bridget again as the two hugged their greeting. Bridget used their close, momentary contact to take a spin through Susan’s mind. Not surprisingly, Susan’s emotions were kept very close to the surface and, not surprisingly, Susan was no stranger to “Elizabethan” loving, though she seemed to prefer cock. Also not surprising, to Bridget, was the raging attraction Susan felt towards the younger American. A final, not surprising, thing Bridget discovered was the amount of time she’d spent recently appearing in Susan’s sexual fantasies, most of which revolved around maneuvering a nervous and naïve, but curious, Bridget into bed. It appeared Susan had been frequently, and successfully, frigging herself with thought of Bridget coursing through her mind.
What did surprise Bridget, considering how free Susan was with her urges and impulses, was Susan’s absolute determination NOT to act on this attraction. Susan worried that Bridget was too young and that bedding the high schooler would somehow constitute a betrayal of Claire. Another surprise greeted Bridget as she probed Susan’s thoughts regarding Claire ... more sexual attraction. Attraction not as powerful as what she felt for Bridget, perhaps, but attraction nonetheless. But Susan had long since given up any hope of scoring with Claire. Still, very interesting.
Susan broke the hug, but stayed close enough that she could rub Bridget’s arm, “I’m so glad you called.”
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Bridget answered brightly. “I hope you didn’t have to change any plans for me.”
“Nonsense,” Susan said firmly. “I’ve been looking forward to spending some time with you.”
“Ohh, me too!” Bridget said breathlessly. The effect made her sound ever so slightly ditzier. Susan smiled widely.
Bridget had chosen an Indian restaurant. The two sat in a corner. Susan poured water from the carafe, then handed Bridget a glass, making sure that their fingers brushed ever so slightly. Next she proposed a toast, to Bridget’s summer vacation, and as their glasses clinked, Susan took care to look deeply into Bridget’s eyes. The teen knew Susan was teasing her, trying to horny her up a bit, not that she needed the prodding. Bridget also decided to play the role assigned to her. She met Susan’s gaze, then looked away as if flustered. As they waited for their meal, Susan’s foot brushed ever so lightly, against Bridget’s calf. A few moments later it happened again. Then a third time. This time, Bridget closed her eyes and allowed herself a shudder. Susan immediately apologized, profusely, claiming she thought Bridget was the table leg. She didn’t sound the least bit sorry.
The two chatted in Italian over dinner. Bridget was impressed with how good Susan’s Italian was, considering how little opportunity she had to use it. Susan’s Italian was good enough, even, to tell jokes and let loose the occasional double entendre. Everytime Susan steered the conversation towards anything remotely sexual, Bridget made sure to giggle nervously and change the subject. At one point, to see if Susan was paying attention, Bridget dropped a hand to her chest and lightly scratched the top of her breast. The whole motion gave the impression that Bridget wasn’t even aware she was doing it. Susan’s eyes immediately dropped to Bridget’s chest, her tongue darted out for a quick pass around her full, blood red lipsticked lips. Susan quickly looked back up. Bridget acted like she hadn’t noticed a thing.
After dinner, Susan led Bridget to a small movie theater where “Le Sette Bellezze” was playing. Bridget paid for two coke’s and a large tub of popcorn to share. They took their seats, and as soon as the lights went down, Bridget innocently rested her head on Susan’s shoulder. Susan placed her head atop Bridget’s. Occasionally, as the movie progressed, each girl would move slightly, making sure their new position snuggled a little bit more into the other.
About half way through, Susan sat up, “I’m sorry Bridget, I have to go to the loo.”
Susan stood, and Bridget shifted to allow Susan to pass. Susan inched her way past, facing Bridget. Even in the darkened theater, the smoldering, hungry look Susan shot Bridget was unmistakable. Bridget wasn’t acting when she returned a yearning stare. And then Susan was gone.
The older girl was away a long time. As soon as she sat, and Bridget resumed her position on Susan’s shoulder, she knew. The older girl had gone into the bathroom and stroked herself to three quick, grunting orgasms. Having released enough of her sexual tension, Susan felt confident she could make it through the rest of the night without attacking the young American. Bridget was a bit disappointed ... but the teasing certainly was a lot of fun.
They hailed a cab after the movie, which delivered them to Claire’s condo complex. Susan got out with Bridget and they hugged goodbye. Susan’s nipples were rock hard, Bridget could tell because they were pressed against her own, diamond like nubbins. The hug lingered a little longer than it needed to. Timing it perfectly, Bridget started as if snapping out of a trance, mumbled a good bye, then bolted for the door. Once inside, she turned around. Susan still stood by the cab. She waved and smiled. Bridget waved coyly, then turned away.
“That ought to give her something to lose sleep over,” Bridget thought, quite pleased with herself.
Her good mood was short lived. Standing by the elevator was Porcia. Bridget resolved to start using the fire exits ... she ran into Porcia at the elevator far too often.
But then again, she wasn’t going to let Porcia intimidate her. With barely a glance at the thin, short haired blonde, Bridget strode to the elevator and waited.
Porcia didn’t even bother with a glance, no matter how small, at Bridget. Through gritted teeth, she simply said, “I trust you’ll be taking a different lift?”
Bridget declined to look at Porcia. The elevator doors opened. The two strode though at the same time. She said calmly, “Your trust is misplaced.”
The door closed. Bridget and Porcia selected their floors. The elevator began its slow ascent. Bridget decided it was time to put her plan in motion.
“Porcia, this is stupid,” she began. “We totally got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to try again. What do you say?”
Porcia looked at Bridget as if she were something funny to be scraped off her shoe.
Bridget continued, “One thing I really admire about you is how well you put yourself together. Your clothes and stuff are always so perfect. I wish I had your eye.”
The look Porcia now gave was one Bridget interpreted as progress. It, at least, was lacking naked hostility.
“For example, I bought this anklet the other day. It was so beautiful I couldn’t resist. But I can’t seem to find an outfit it looks right with. I was hoping maybe you’d take a look at it, then look at some of my clothes, and maybe give me some advice?”
The amused look returned to the blonde’s face. “Vanity, thy name is Porcia,” Bridget thought as she returned the smile. Bridget knew full well Porcia had no intention of helping her. She just wanted a chance to criticize everything Bridget owned. No matter, all Bridget needed was a few minutes alone with her.
The two got off at Bridget’s floor. Claire was in the living room, the TV on simply for background noise. Various papers, reports and charts were spread across the coffee table. Claire was marking them up furiously. She looked up only when the door closed.
“Hello,” she looked surprised to see Bridget, then she looked at the watch. “My goodness, look at the time.”
“Hi.”
“Did you have fun with Susan?”
“Had a great time.”
“That’s good, did you go with them Porcia?”
“No,” Porcia mumbled.
“I ran into Porcia on my way in. She’s going to look at something I bought the other day.”
“Oh, very good, then,” Claire returned to her work. “I’ll be up for a few hours yet so don’t worry about having to tiptoe about.”
Bridget led Porcia to her room and shut the door. Next she retrieved the bag Tara had given her at the airport from behind her dresser. She withdrew an anklet.
“Why do you keep it back there?” Porcia asked.
“I think it may be valuable. Why take chances?” She held out the anklet to Porcia.
Porcia looked surprised. It was certainly a more attractive piece of jewelry than she’d expected from the American. Everyone new Americans had no taste or style; Bridget had practically admitted as much in the elevator. The anklet was a deep blue gemstone set on three gold bands. The bands tapered together until they converged behind the stone, forming a graceful oval. Porcia couldn’t identify the stone. Maybe a topaz, maybe an aquamarine, but she wasn’t sure.
“Let’s see your clothes, then,” Porcia said.
Bridget opened her closet. As Porcia expected, it was the usual array of slutty next to nothings American women seemed to favor. There was next to nothing to work with, as she could have predicted.
“Why don’t you put it on?” Bridget suggested.
“Pardon?”
“Put it on. I’ll hand you the clothes, you can hold them up to you and tell me what you think?”
The idea of handling anything Bridget had touched repulsed Porcia. But the anklet was an exception. She sat on the bed and pulled her left leg up. The anklet didn’t have a clasp, but still slipped easily over her foot.
Porcia swooned. Her vision was rippled like lake water someone had dropped a stone into. When her sight rematerialized, she found she was lying flat on the bed. She felt sluggish and heavy, as if she had a terrible cold. Bridget was standing over her.
“Go home now Porcia,” the redhead said quietly.
That seemed like a good idea to the blonde. Slowly, she rose up, unable to shake a growing sense of confusion. She looked back to Bridget.
“We’ll talk later,” Bridget said firmly. Porcia left.
Porcia’s reaction surprised Bridget. For the first day, she stayed away. As Bridget understood it, the anklet would release powerful, irresistible yearnings. She waited all day for the bitchy blonde to arrive. But she never did. Maybe, Bridget realized, Porcia was a bit more than a mere bully. But it really made no difference. Porcia, eventually, would come back.
On the second day, Bridget awoke to a frantic pounding on the condo’s front door. It was 8:30a which meant, thankfully, Claire would already be on her way to work. When Bridget opened the door, Porcia stormed in. She looked like she hadn’t been sleeping much lately. She whirled, like a tornado, on Bridget once she was inside. Then the tornado lost it’s fury. Bridget wore only a pair of sheer panties. Porcia’s eyes drank in the nearly naked Bridget, who just smiled. The anklet was working.
“What can I do for you,” Bridget asked sweetly.
“What are you doing to me?” Porcia gasped. Anger battled with fascination in Porcia’s voice.
“I’m not doing anything to you,” Bridget said patiently. “It’s the anklet.”
“Make it stop.”
“I don’t need to. All you have to do is take it off.” Porcia looked down at her foot, but didn’t move. She looked back up.
“I can’t!” she whined.
“Then you have a problem.”
“What is it doing to me?”
“It’s turning you into a submissive,” Bridget smiled. “A lesbian submissive, to be exact. By the time it’s through with you, you’ll be begging me to fuck you.”
“No!”
“Oh yes,” Bridget confirmed. “Of course, whether I decide to fuck you is an entirely different matter.”
Porcia was visibly trembling now. A knock on the door made her flinch.
“Come in,” Bridget called.
Laura and Marise entered. They looked shocked to see Porcia.
“What’s going on here, then?” Laura asked.
“Porcia was just leaving,” Bridget explained.
“But ...”
“Good bye, Porcia.”
Head hung in shame, Porcia ran out of the apartment.
Bridget shrugged, “So, what do you guys want to do today?”
Laura took up position directly infront of Bridget and wrapped her hands around the back of the red head’s neck. Marise slid up behind Bridget to lightly caress the panty covered ass.
“We’ll think of something,” Laura cooed.
Bridget avoided Porcia for most of day three. At one point, she saw Porcia waiting outside the building. It was obvious she was waiting for Bridget, all the more so when she actually saw Bridget. Porcia headed straight for the redhead. Bridget turned around immediately. Given London’s twisting streets, she had no problem losing her pursuer.
She waited until after dinner. Bridget took the elevator up the three floors to where Porcia’s home was located. Just before she knocked, the door swung open and Bridget was nearly knocked flat by a man and woman exiting.
“Oh, pardon me,” the man said.
“I’m sorry,” Bridget apologized. “Is Porcia in?”
“She’s in her room. And you are ...” the woman asked.
“I’m Bridget. I’m a friend of hers. You must be Mr. And Mrs. Morgan.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Mr. Morgan replied politely. Bridget wondered how two seemingly nice people could have a monster like Porcia for a daughter. “You’re a Yank?’
Bridget shrugged, “That’s right.”
“We toured Arizona a few years back. Such wonderful country,” Mrs. Morgan reminisced with a smile. “Have you ever been to Arizona?”
“No, never. I live in New England. It’s on the other side of the country.”
“It is a rather large country,” Mr. Morgan conceded. “You’re staying with Claire Kensington?”
“That’s right.”
“Lovely girl,” Mr. Morgan said.
“Well, Bridget, do come by for dinner sometime. We’ll show you some photos of our trip,” Mrs. Morgan offered, then stepped aside. “Let yourself in. We’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Thank you.”
Bridget found Porcia curled up in the fetal position on her bed. When she saw Bridget, she sat up immediately, a hungry, hopeful gleam in her eyes.
“Please,” she begged.
“Please what?”
Porcia looked down, “You know,” she whispered.
“I do,” Bridget said sternly. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Please make love to me.” Bridget shook her head. Porcia sighed, “Please ... please fuck me.”
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Bridget said sternly. “Have you been thinking about me?”
Porcia nodded.
“What do you think about when you think of me?”
“Us.”
“What about us?”
“We’re naked.”
“And ...”
“And you make me do things.”
“What kind of things?”
Porcia eyes were screwed shut as she remembered, “Sexy things,” she hissed.
“Do you touch yourself when you think about those things?” Porcia nodded. “Do you play with yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Do you pull on you clittie?”
“Yes.”
“Do you stick your fingers up your pussy?”
“Yes!”
“Do you lick your fingers clean?”
Porcia nodded, “Oh God, YES!”
“Do you come?”
“NO!” Porcia sobbed.
“That’s right. You can’t come until I let you,” Bridget said with malicious satisfaction. “Do you like it when I make you do things?”
“Yes,” a tear trickled down Porcia’s cheek.
“So you’ll do whatever I tell you to do from now on?”
“Of course.”
Bridget smiled. She spoke gently, “Okay Porcia. I want you to do something, and if you do it well, maybe ... MAYBE ... I’ll let you come.”
Joy spread across Porcia’s face, “Anything.”
“I want you to start being nice to Laura and Marise.”
Porcia shook her head, “What?”
“You heard me. I want you to be nice to Laura and Marise.”
“Why them?”
“Because they’re my friends, and they’ve been very nice to me from the beginning. They’re so nice ... they make me come so hard when I fuck them.”
“You ... and them?” Porcia was shocked.
“All the time,” Bridget explained. Porcia flinched at the thought of it. “And I want to see if you can be that nice. I want you to start being a good girl.”
“I ... I can be nice,” Porcia said meekly.
“That’s good,” Bridget turned to go.
“WAIT!” Bridget stopped and looked back at the broken girl. “But what about right now?”
“Right now, you need to think about ways you can be nice to Laura and Marise.” Bridget let herself out.
Susan called on day 4, suggesting another movie night. Bridget hemmed and hawed, sweetly, before saying she was too busy for the next couple days. But she really, REALLY, wanted to get together again. Susan chuckled, said she understood and would check back in a couple days. In a ‘fraidy cat whisper, Bridget said that would be fine.
Bridget, Laura and Marise left the condo building. They were heading for the Underground station, where they would proceed for their boat tour of the Themes. They saw Porcia walking towards them. When Porcia saw them she froze. As the three passed, Porcia called to them quietly.
“Laura,” she said. Laura looked at her steadily. “You look pretty today.”
Laura blinked in surprise.
“You too, Marise,” Porcia said, then walked away.
“What’s gotten into her?” Marise finally asked.
“Nothing but good things, I’m sure,” Bridget answered.
Claire picked up when the phone rang later that night, then handed it to Bridget.
“I was nice today,” Porcia said desperately.
“Yes, you were.”
A pause, “Now?”
Bridget looked around. Claire had gone into the kitchen. “Well, one nice deed is a good start, but it isn’t enough. You have to keep being nice, so I know you’ve really changed. I need to know that you are a good girl now.”
“When will that be?”
“If you keep being nice, then soon. Very soon, I promise. And when the time comes...”
“Yes?”
“You’ll see it was worth the wait,” Bridget purred. Porcia groaned. “But you have to stop asking me all the time. It makes me angry.”
“Okay,” Porcia said passively.
Porcia held up her end of the bargain. On day 5, she held the elevator door for the trio, then helped Laura carry up her bags. On day 6, Marise reported Porcia had, again, told her she looked pretty.
On day 7, Bridget was in the building lobby, picking up the mail, when Mr. and Mrs. Morgan came out of the elevator, suitcases in hand.
“I take it this means I can’t come up tonight to see those pictures?” Bridget asked.
“Sorry Bridget. We’re going to France for a long weekend,” Mr. Morgan said. The word came out “Frahnce”. Bridget loved how Brits pronounced French words.
“Is Porcia going with you?”
“No, not this time,” Mrs. Morgan said. “She’s been a little under the weather lately, which is a shame. She loves Paris.”
Mrs. Morgan seemed to be thinking something over, “Would you mind dropping in on her and making sure she’s okay while we’re gone?”
“I’d be happy to,” Bridget answered brightly. She’d DEFINITELY be dropping by to see Porcia.
“Thank you very much. We keep a key under the doormat. Just let your self in.”
Bridget smiled, “Will do.”
Bridget waited in her room. From the sounds of things, Claire went to bed at 11:30p. Bridget waited an extra hour, making sure Claire was asleep. Then she threw a robe on and let herself out.
She walked slowly, enjoying the anticipation. She found the key, exactly where Mrs. Morgan said it would be. The condo was dark, Bridget walked slowly. Porcia’s door was cracked open. Bridget slid in. She could hear Porcia’s breath, ragged, punctuated by an occasional sigh and moan. Bridget scanned Porcia’s dream. The blonde was dreaming about eating Marise’s pussy with Bridget giving EXPLICIT instructions on how to do so. Bridget was glad to see that Porcia really was working on being nicer to her friends.
Bridget let Porcia finish the dream. When she heard the blonde sigh heavily, she flicked on the light.
“Wake up,” she ordered.
Porcia sat bolt upright in bed. She scrunched her eyes, not expecting the light. Porcia was naked, it was the first time Bridget had seen her nude. Her little slave really was thin, almost bony. But she had surprisingly big, round breasts, and a firm ass. The anklet glinted in the light. Porcia’s nipples stuck out so far, Bridget knew their tightness must have been a torture. She slipped her robe off. Now she was as naked as Porcia. The blonde looked faint.
“Now,” Porcia asked as if she didn’t dare hope.
“Now,” Bridget confirmed. “I want you to crawl to me.”
Porcia did as she was instructed, immediately and without protest. When she got close, Bridget ordered her to stop.
“You know what I want you to do?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Tell me!”
Porcia’s eyes locked with Bridget’s. She was far beyond shame now, “You want me to fuck you with my tongue.”
“And you’ll do it?”
“Of course!” Porcia answered emphatically.
“Why?”
“Because you want me to.”
“Have you ever been with a girl before?”
“Never.”
“Why,” Bridget tried to sound cross.
“The thought of it used to disgust me,” now the shame returned to Porcia’s voice.
“But it doesn’t any more, does it?”
“No!”
“Why?”
Porcia gulped, and looked at Bridget with longing and awe, “Because you taught me to be a good girl, and this is what good girls do. They lick pussy for other good girls.”
Bridget spread her legs. Porcia pounced, gluing her mouth to Bridget’s cunt, groaning loudly as she made contact. Her hands gripped Bridget’s ass, holding her tight, pulling her in. Porcia maneuvered so her tits pressed against Bridget’s legs; anything to smother the itch she’d felt in them the past week. Her tongue plowed between Bridget’s lips, the nector she drank from there exploded through her mouth. When her tongue flicked against Bridget’s clit, the redhead flinched with pleasure. Porcia did it again, pride filling her being when she got the same reaction, as well as a satisfied groan. She was making Bridget happy, nothing else mattered. She formed her lips around the clit and began sucking. The middle and index fingers of her left hand slid into Bridget’s slick hole. Her American mistress responded by placing a hand on the back of Porcia’s head, locking her in place. Porcia opened her eyes. Bridget’s head was thrown back, her other hand groped at her breasts. Porcia needed to keep licking Bridget and make her come. It was the only way she’d be allowed to come. But as soon as she could, she wanted it to be her hands, and her mouth, and her tits and her pussy pressed against Bridget’s incredible breasts. Bridget was bucking her hips against Porcia’s face. Porcia knew that meant Bridget would come soon, and the thought spurred her own. Her neck strained and her jaw ached, not that it mattered. Juices were now spilling down her cheeks. Something was trickling down her chest, between her breasts, either sweat or pussy juice. She had no idea which, but the sensation drove her mad. Bridget came with a grunt, discharge from her cunt showering Porcia, soaking her face and her hair. Porcia rubbed herself against Bridget’s pussy and thighs, trying to soak in as much as she could. Despite the oily sheen on her face, for the first time in her life, Porcia felt clean.
Porcia sprang to her feet, crushing her body against Bridget’s. The American’s tits felt as wonderful against her as she’d dreamed. They kissed, wildly, tongues stabbing and teeth scraping. Only when Porcia was completely out of breath, when she felt as though she might pass out, did she break the kiss. She still crushed Bridget to her, resting her head on the other’s shoulder. Panting, she licked at Bridget’s ear.
“I did it, I really did it,” she breathed.
“Yes you did. You did wonderfully,” Bridget answered.
“I’m a good girl now, aren’t I?” Porcia needed to know.
“Yes, you’re a very good girl now,” Bridget confirmed. “I want you to lie down on the bed.”
Porcia found it difficult to make it to the bed, her legs were so weak and rubbery. She collapsed on the mattress, on her back, legs pressed together, arms at her side, hoping ... hoping...
Gently, Bridget spread Porcia’s legs apart. The blonde nearly wept with joy. It was all she could do to find the words, “Oh thank you! Thank you! And I’m sorry!”
“Sorry for what?”
Porcia’s eyes screwed shut with pre-orgasmic bliss, “I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you before. I’m sorry for not letting you do this ages ago. I’m sorry I didn’t,” Porcia searched for the right word, “submit to you sooner.”
“But that’s all behind us now, isn’t it.”
“Ohhhhhh yes!” Porcia sighed as Bridget’s mouth touched the blonde’s loins. The sensation radiated from her pussy like a current. Porcia’s arms crossed her chest, her right hand massaging her left breast, and vica versa. Soon she was pledging her devotion, and her body, to Bridget.
Bridget worked slowly, steadily picking up the pack of her licking. After a few moments, she noticed Porcia had stopped babbling. The meter and timbre of her voice had changed. Bridget couldn’t hear what she was saying at first, but as the redhead picked up her pace, Porcia’s chant became clearer.
“I’m a good girl now ... I’m a good girl now ... I’m a good girl now ... I’magoodgirlnow ... I’MAGOODGIRLNOW!”