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Toby meets anita
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
This story is another from the archives, and is not written by me.
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
From: [email protected]
Subject: STORY, averti, repost, Toby Meets Anita
Taking a cue from the estimable and toothsome Elf!!, who is reposting
his journal entries, I decided to repost the 1991 Toby stories. This
one was first posted over a year ago (!), so, one hopes, many current
asb'ers will not have seen it.
There are a dozen or so stories in this arc; I'll post them at the rate
of one or two a day, so as to not strain the itty-bitty net wires 8).
From ames!think.com!samsung!wizvax!wi.131 Tue May 28 08:06:22 PDT 1991
Here is another story about my domina friend Toby.
As usual,
although based on actual people and events, this is a work
of fiction, and you should consider all events and procedures
described herein as taking place between consenting adults.
Readers who do not like sexual relationships among homosexual
and bisexual women should skip this story (and are more to be
pitied than scorned).. averti ..
*****************************************************************
Anita Meets Toby, Part One
by averti May 1991
Anita glared at the mirror's reflection of her reddened eyes. ``No way
anybody's going to miss seeing that I've been crying all night'' she told
herself ruefully.
Anita's friend Barb breezed into the ladies room, whistling and singing
``Saints preserve us and DON'T make us nervous.'' Barb stopped short when she
saw her friend peering dejectedly into the mirror.``'Neets, you look like
shit, girl!''
``It's Friday, and I FEEL like shit, Barb. It's all over between Bill and me.
Again. For the last time.''
``Oh? Mr. Passive Space Cadet walk out on you?''
Anita smiled bitterly. ``Slid out is more like it. Last night we were in bed,
making love, such as it's been lately, when all of a sudden he just stopped!''
Barb took out a comb and began stabbing at her shiny, curly hair. ``Probly
forgot how to do it.''
``No. it's drugs. Again. He never did love me, but at least I used to get
something like equal time with the 'ludes and Xanax. Now he just wants to
crawl into himself and stay there.''
Barb looked at her friend with sympathy. Anita is too nice and too decent for
the shit life seems to want to hand her, Barb thought. Barb reviewed Anita's
trim, petite frame, her strong, defined face, and her glossy black hair, and
sympathy gave ground to desire, as it always did. Barb told herself to stop
imagining what it would be like to cup Anita's delicate, perky breasts in her
hands and suck on Anita's clitoris for about a week. Sigh.
``Listen. 'Neets, you need to get out and have some adventure instead of
sitting around the house moping over dickhead for the rest of the year. It's
Friday. Why don't you come with me to the Iron Circle tonight and we'll do
some party stuff?''
Anita smiled sadly at her tall, brownskinned friend. ``Babe, you know I love
you like a sister, but I'm just not into girls, and I don't think I'm going to
be into girls, and I sure don't feel like going to a gay club where I have to
turn down girls all night and end up looking like some clueless asshole.'' She
snapped her purse shut and turned to leave the restroom.
Barb put her hands on her hips and threw back her head.``Well, exCUSE me, O
stricken one! The Iron Circle is not a gay bar. It's not a dyke bar. I don't
_go_ to dyke bars,'' Barb grinned, ``I can pick up a perfectly good woman at a
regular bar! Naw, the Iron Circle is for role-playing of all kinds, and if you
give it out that you're not into whatever, they leave you alone and go find
somebody who is into whatever.''
``...I dunno...''
``Try it once. If you hate it I'll never pester you again. Let's make a bet;
if you're right, I have to eat your pussy. If I'm right, I GET to eat your
pussy.''
Anita blushed.``Barb. Your mouth!''
Barb pushed through the restroom door, saying over her shoulder ``...is at
your service.''
The two women agreed to meet at the Iron Circle at 8 PM that evening. Anita
finished work, went home, showered and dressed in a simple outfit of slacks
and a tailored blouse. The 'forties lines of the clinging, draped outfit set
off her curly raven hair and deep blue eyes. Anita dusted a light spray of
powder over the few freckles on the bridge of her delicate nose, checked
herself in the mirror one last time, threw a light jacket over her shoulder,
and set off for the Iron Circle.
The Iron Circle was located in what used to be the industrial part of town
before industry fled to the suburbs. Anita surrendered her car to the
mohawk-wearing valet parking woman and walked up the brightly lit path to the
door of the club. As she approached the door, the door attendant, a large,
buffed-and-puffed body builder type, made as if to question her.
I probably look like the Moral Majority Poster Girl to most of these people,
Anita thought with amusement. She smiled at the door attendant and said ``I'm
meeting Barb.''
The attendant smiled back, a surprisingly friendly and shy, almost demure
smile.``Oh, good, you must be Anita. Welcome to the Iron Circle.'' The
attendant put out her big hand and shook Anita's smaller hand, then ushered
Anita inside.
***
As Anita took a place at the bar, she noticed a couple walking across the edge
of the dance floor, toward the restrooms. The person in front was a tall,
extremely thin woman with long arms and legs. She was wearing a complicated
leather jacket and pants with a myriad of laces, studs, buckles, and snaps.
Following along a pace behind the first woman was a second woman, whom at
first Anita thought was Alice of Alice in Wonderland. As the couple passed by
Anita, she could see that the woman wearing the pinafore and maryjane shoes
was at least thirty years of age. Anita could also see that the pinafore was
made of nearly transparent fabric, and that through the bodice it was possible
to see the woman's tiny breasts--in fact it was impossible not to see them--and
that each nipple had a sizable gold ring through it, and that a heavy gold
chain connected the rings.
Whew! Anita thought. Think I'll wait until Barb gets here and then ask if we
can't go somewhere else. She swirled her drink in its glass, thinking about
what she had just seen. She decided, to her surprise, that she didn't feel
disgusted or outraged as she might have had in previous years. Only a little
anxious and disoriented. Anita briefly imagined what it would feel like to
have rings and a chain pierced through _her_ nipples, and found that the
nipples in question stirred a bit in their sheer bra. Calm down, she told
herself.
Anita was sipping her second drink and getting more and more bemused by her
surroundings when a woman walked up behind her and placed a hand lightly on
her shoulder. ``Anita?'' the woman said.
Anita turned. Her first impression was that the woman was impossibly tall,
well over six feet. She was wearing an ankle-length skirt of dark silk that
could have served as a complete dress for someone Anita's size. A simple
contrasting blouse hinted at a modest bustline and square, athletic-looking
shoulders. For a split second Anita thought wildly ``Oh no! I'm being hit on
by a transvestite!'' Then Anita looked at the woman's face.
It was almost like looking at a reflection in calm water. The individual
features were readable enough--large, dark eyes; small, delicate nose; full,
arched lips; all framed in a mid-back length swirling mass of auburn hair. The
total effect of the face, however, made Anita feel disoriented for a moment;
she felt that she might be in danger of falling into those eyes and never
coming back up...
The woman broke the spell with a sunny grin. ``I'm Toby,'' she said. ``Barb's
running a little late, so she asked me to entertain you until she gets here.''
Toby slid easily onto the next stool and reached out her hand without looking.
The bartender, a chunky weight-lifter type with a shaved head, was holding a
drink at precisely the right location for Toby to take it without looking.
``Please to meet you, Toby'' Anita. She nodded toward the bartender with a
smile. ``You must come here often.''
``Done with telepathy, right, Sue?'' The bartender nodded, and then seemed to
blush, a peculiar effect given the ruggedness of her build and manner.
Toby sipped her drink and looked into the bar-back mirror. ``So, how do you
like the Iron Circle so far?''
``To be honest, I think I'm in over my depth. I don't mean that I have any
hostility toward anybody's scene here--that's assuming I even know enough to be
able to figure out what their scene is--I'm just a little square from Delaware
who's hardly even had much to do with the opposite sex, let alone my own.''
Toby smiled. ``It's a bit shocking at first, of course. Some of these
characters are here for the sole purpose of being shocking. However, you need
never feel scared, or exploited, or alone.''
Anita made a face. ``I don't know how much Barb told you, but the fact is that
today I never felt more alone in my life. Coming to the Iron Circle couldn't
add anything to how alone I feel.''
Toby reached over and placed a large, strong hand over Anita's small hand as
it rested on the bar. ``I said, you need never feel alone, and I meant it.''
Anita looked at the hand and frowned. ``Just go a little slow, will you, Toby?
It's not that you're not very attractive. You know you are. I may not be in
the right head for something this new right now. I feel like I need to be with
somebody, but I don't exactly know who, or how, or how much, or how far.''
Toby took her hand away and smiled. Anita looked into those large, dark eyes
again, and felt a little dizzy. Too much booze? Too little fresh air? Too much
tension and sadness, more likely.
The two women talked easily, about Barb, about other people they knew in
common, about life's endless selection of trivia. Anita found she couldn't
stop looking at Toby. Toby's face seemed to glow with its own light from
within. Her whole body gave an impression of toned fitness and tremendous
strength without any compromise of femininity. Even her less than
conventionally perfect features (aside from a modest bosom, Toby, like many
tall women, had large hands and feet) seemed exactly right in the context of
the complete woman.
Anita finally glanced at her watch.``That Barb!'' she said. ``Where is she?
She'd be late for her own funeral...''
``Well, to tell the truth, which I always do, Barb's not coming.''
``What?''
Toby smiled. ``I guess I'm here instead of Barb. I guess she decided you
needed me more than her.''
Anita frowned. ``Is this a fixup?! Dammit, I don't like being jerked around
this way!''
Toby appeared neither offended nor defensive. ``What ways DO you like to be
jerked around?''
Anita calmed down. ``Buy me another drink, and explain what's going on here,
will you?''
Toby obtained fresh drinks and the two women moved to a booth. ``I know it
looks like you're being traded around,'' Toby said apologetically. ``You can
get up and walk right out of here this second, and I wouldn't blame you. On
the other hand, you could listen to what I have to say, and get some idea of
who I am and what it is that I am up to, and then decide.''
``Seems fair.''
``Well, superficially I am what some people call a fem-dom. I have a
very--make that _very_--strong sexual nature, and a great deal of love and
affection to give.''
Anita raised her eyebrows. ``A fem-dom? Listen, I'm not even into women yet;
I'm sure not into being tied to a rack and whipped by you or anybody else! I
don't care how much love you have to give, you'll have to torture somebody
else this evening...that Barb must be nuts!''
Toby explained that she wasn't into whipping people, but that she enjoyed
sharing physical and spiritual affection with other women (and some few men)
on a one-to-one, nonbinding basis. The domination was made all the sweeter,
Toby explained, because the person being dominated submitted to her will
entirely out of trust and affection.
``Assuming you're on the level'' Anita said reasonably, ``What makes you think
I would grant you my trust and affection the very first time we met?''
Toby smiled. ``It's a matter of degree, isn't it? I mean, you trust me enough
to sit here and have a drink with me, and you like me enough to listen to some
fairly outrageous suggestions--and _consider_ them--without walking out.'' She
sipped her drink. ``Besides, what's keeping you distant is not fear; you're
not scared of me in the least. It's fear of being made to look like a fool in
your own eyes. I tell you what. If you'll come back to my place, just the two
of us, I'll promise you unlimited `no' power. Anything you don't want to do,
we won't do. In fact, if you don't want to do anything, we won't do anything
at all.''
Anita said ``Know what? I think you're highly weird. I like that in a woman.''
``Thank you. Know what? I predict that you are going to come tonight without
you, me, or anybody touching your pussy.''
Anita overcame the urge to shift and fidget in her seat. If we don't change
the scene fairly soon, she thought, I might just come right here in the Iron
Circle without anybody touching anything. This witch could sell sand in the
desert!
Toby made a show of looking into her drink. ``You know what else?'' she
murmured.
``What?''
``I'm not wearing anything under this skirt.''
``Somehow that's not the biggest surprise of the week'' said Anita, trying to
affect a light tone. She realized, to her slight amazement, that the notion
turned her on. She felt that she would very much like to see, and possibly
more than see, the parts of Toby that were under the long skirt.
``But, of course, the skirt has a heavy lining. Otherwise, even I would be
embarrassed.''
``Because somebody could see through it in a back light?''
``No'' Toby continued, in a near whisper.``Because there would be one hell of
an obvious wet spot in the front. Since the second I laid eyes on you, my cunt
has been lubing like a faucet.''
Anita was struck speechless.
``Barb told me you were cute, and pretty, and honest, and brave. And you ARE
all those things, obviously. But she played a trick on me. She didn't warn me
that you were also sexy, and erotically powerful, and empathetic to the point
of ESP. Anita, if you were to turn around and walk out of this dive right now,
and I never saw you again in this life, I would still think about you every
day forever.''
Anita didn't know what to say. One the one hand, it was bullshit; on the other
hand, it was GREAT bullshit, and very arousing bullshit indeed. Toby's eyes
seemed to expand to fill Anita's entire field of vision. ``Whu-- Anita's
voice broke. She tried again. ``Whats--what is the number one thing you think
we should do next?''
Toby placed her glass neatly on the bar and picked up her purse. ``Go to my
place, drink lots of champagne, and have a lot of progressively more
earthshaking screaming orgasms.''
Anita felt her face turn bright red. However, another part of her body was
also flushed, and, if not bright red, certainly hot, wet, and slippery. She
crossed a mental bridge and then burned the bridge behind her. ``Let's.'' was
all she said, or needed to say.
*** end of part one ***
--
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