“Mistress?” The sound of Isabella’s voice brought Clea back to herself. “Are you alright?”

Clea noted with pride the way Isabella’s voice didn’t falter as she called her ‘mistress’. The older woman barely even blushed. All of this, including their kink dynamic, had become completely normal to her now. Just as it should have.

“Yes, of course,” Clea assured her. “Just a little distracted, that’s all.”

It was true. As Clea had been standing at the door to their kitchen, looking in, watching Isabella cook for her, she’d become distracted by just how perfect her life had become. It was strange; after such a long time spent yearning and hoping, Clea didn’t know what to do with herself. She had it all. All her dreams had come true. What came next?

Clea decided there was nothing left to do but bask in the afterglow and enjoy her newfound domestic bliss with the older woman she’d hypnotized into a loving, devoted, submissive lesbian.

“Anyway,” Clea said, as she walked over and pressed herself against Isabella’s back, “are you sure you won’t let me take care of that? You should really take the weight off your feet.”

She reached around and rested a hand on Isabella’s full, round, pregnant belly.

“No thank you, mistress,” Isabella replied, pausing for a moment to rest one of her hands atop Clea’s. “I love making food for you.”

Clea just smiled. She’d known Isabella would say that, of course. Even six months pregnant, she insisted on doing her fair share of the housework, despite the long hours she was still spending at the office. The two of them had an unusual dynamic - at work, Isabella was still Clea’s boss, but in private, their dynamic flipped and Isabella was the submissive one. She liked to joke that cooking and cleaning was the least she could do to make up for spending all day bossing her mistress around.

The main reason Clea let her was that Isabella was so clearly flourishing in their new life together. She was dramatically, visibly happier than she had ever been with her husband. Having a partner who truly appreciated her made all the domestic work Isabella did incredibly rewarding, and she was able to put all that energy back into her professional life as well. Everywhere, Isabella was excelling. She’d received more than a few comments from coworkers about how much happier and more fulfilled she seemed ever since the divorce from her ex-husband had been finalized. Clea had never been more proud of her.

Except for the day they had received the happy news that Isabella was pregnant.

“You know, I can’t wait to have kids with you,” Clea said softly to Isabella. “We’re gonna be great moms.”

Isabella blushed. Clea knew hearing that meant a lot to her. “’Kids’ plural, huh?” she replied playfully. “Are you sure you’re not getting a little bit ahead of yourself? I’m still working on number one here.”

“Nope,” Clea told her confidently. “You’ve always wanted a big family, right? Well, me too. Two boys and a girl.”

“Two boys and a girl?” Isabella echoed. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Clea admitted. She stretched forward and kissed Isabella’s cheek. “It just sounds good to me.”

“It doesn’t sound bad,” Isabella admitted. Then, with a touch of theatricality, she sighed. “I guess I’m just gonna have to get used to carrying all this extra weight around, aren’t I?”

“You sure are.” Clea giggled. “Now we know how well IVF works for you, I intend to exploit it to the fullest.”

After just a few months, the fertility treatments Isabella had started to undergo had paid off. Finally, Clea was giving Isabella what she’d always wanted: a family of her own. Working together to deal with the pregnancy and prepare for the baby had brought the two of them closer than ever before. Clea had never felt happier.

And it helped that pregnancy looked really, really good on Isabella.

“You know, in my book, the extra weight isn’t a bad thing at all,” Clea murmured into her lover’s ear. “I love how this maternity dress makes you look,” 

She started rubbing her palm back and forth across her belly. The way the fabric of the long, blue dress was stretched taut over Isabella’s growing baby bulge was utterly enchanting. Clea couldn’t keep her hands away. Dressed like that, standing in the kitchen with a wooden spoon in her hand, she was the very embodiment of classic, mature femininity. Anyone would have thought so.

The only detail that might have raised their eyebrows was the conspicuous leather collar kept permanently fastened around Isabella’s neck.

Isabella responded with a low purr of appreciation. “Thank you, mistress.” She hesitated. “I feel huge. I think this one’s getting a little small on me.”

“Yeah?” Clea replied, voice breathy. “Well, I like it that way. Really shows off how much of a MILF you’re turning into.”

“Goodness!” Isabella giggled. She was leaning back against Clea eagerly. “Stop!”

“Nope,” Clea shot back playfully. “How could I? I know you’re cooking, but you look good enough to eat.”

Her hands were roaming up and down Isabella’s body now, exploring her hips, her thighs, her chest… she was getting bigger in all the right places. Clearly, motherhood suited her.

“M-mistress! Isabella’s voice started to take on a needy, whiny, high-pitched quality as Clea felt her up. “That’s not fair!”

“Oh yeah?” Clea couldn’t stop grinning. She knew Isabella was enjoying this just as much as she was. “Why’s that?”

Isabella moaned sharply as Clea rested a hand on one of her swollen, sensitive breasts, then giggled as euphoric pleasure washed over her. “A-ah! You k-know how crazy my hormones are these days! T-this is… unff… really d-distracting.”

“Sorry.” Clea giggled too - but she didn’t stop. Not yet. “I guess I should let you get back to cooking, huh? Maybe after dinner, I can help you blow off a little steam.”

Isabella paused for a long moment. Clea kept groping her. She knew the decision her lover was struggling to make, and was more than happy to keep putting her thumb on the scales.

“Actually,” Isabella said slowly, eventually, “this could really do with simmering for a little while. So… maybe right now, we c-could…”

Clea let out a smug laugh and then kissed the back of Isabella’s neck. “Bedroom’s just upstairs, darling.”

After Isabella turned down the heat to keep the pot at a bare simmer, the two of them walked hand in hand up to their bedroom. Happily, Isabella had been awarded the house in the divorce. It meant lots of space for both her and Clea, and plenty more to spare for when the baby arrived. Unhappily, now that she was on the threshold of her third trimester, Isabella had some amount of trouble navigating the stairs. Clea, though, was always there to help her, step by step, until the two of them made it all the way to the top.

“Goodness,” Isabella sighed, as she slumped down onto their king-sized bed. “I swear that gets harder every day. I might need a minute to catch my breath. Sorry, mistress.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Clea told her firmly. “Understand?”

“Understood,” Isabella immediately replied, and nodded submissively.

“Good.” Clea perched next to her on the bed. “Besides, I have something for you to do while you rest up.”

Isabella looked at her quizzically.

Clea reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone - and a pair of earbuds. “I have one last meditation music video I’d like you to check out.”

“One last…” Isabella lit up at once, although she looked surprised. “Wow! I thought you were done with these a long time ago.”

“I know it’s been a little while,” Clea acknowledged. “But, what can I say? Recently, I got the itch to make just one more. For the road, I guess.”

“You won’t hear me complaining.” Isabella was already untangling the earbuds. “Why only one more, though? I’m curious.”

“I just…” Clea paused for a long moment to consider her answer. “I just don’t think we’ll be needing any more.”

Isabella was visibly puzzled, but seemed to accept Clea’s answer for what it was. “I see. Well, like I said, no complaints here. I’m just glad to have one more I can add to my regular playlist!” She looked at Clea and smiled. “Thank you, mistress. I’ve really loved having these to listen to.”

Clea giggled. “You’re welcome. Although, you know, it’s actually my friend Bruna you should be thanking.”

“Aren’t you enigmatic today?” Isabella teased. “Fine, I’ll thank her - but later. I’m eager to listen. My life is a whole lot less stressful without my ass of an ex-husband, but I could still do with a little relaxation.”

Clea gestured for her to lie back and get started. She helped Isabella get into position: lying flat on her back, head on the pillows, blanket folded under her pelvis to help with her aching muscles. While Isabella got the music video loaded up, Clea pressed close to her side and then, once it was ready to play, took the phone out of the older woman’s hands and held it up for her to see.

“Ready?” Clea asked.

Isabella nodded.

Clea hit ‘play’.

This was far from the first time Clea had watched Isabella enjoy one of her specially tailored, hypnotic videos, but no matter how often it happened, it was always a joy to watch the older woman’s face as she succumbed to trance. Clea could practically count the muscles beneath her skin as, one by one, they completely relaxed, leaving Isabella with a slack, mindless, blissfully calm expression. There was something captivating and unspeakably beautiful about it. This was exactly how tranquil and peaceful Isabella always deserved to look.

But it was far from instant; the trance took hold slowly, and there was an entire, wonderful performance to the way it happened. Every few moments, as the video playing in front of her drained all the will and awareness out of Isabella, she tried to gather herself - not to fight or resist, just to stay focused on Clea’s gift. Her eyelids would force themselves wide open, only to sag again after a couple of seconds. The light would return to her eyes, only for the spark to quickly fade into an absent, glassy sheen. Each time, each cycle, Isabella slipped a little deeper, unable to renew herself fully, until eventually, she stopped trying. Stopped struggling.

Stopped thinking.

Clea kept her gaze fixed carefully on Isabella’s face. She couldn’t risk looking at the music video herself. The risk of catching splash damage was too great. But she could certainly see the way Isabella’s face was being bathed in spinning, kaleidoscopic patterns; more and more with each passing moment, as the complex patterns playing on the video unfolded and unfurled in entrancing, ever-shifting formations. At the same time, in sync with them, Clea could hear deep, pulsing, binaural beats leaking out from the earbuds; as much as that, she could feel them, the vibrations passing through Isabella’s body and into hers.

Isabella was hopelessly weak to all of it now. She’d embraced that weakness, succumbing willingly to Clea’s gifts. She loved going into trance for Clea. She loved the relaxation it brought her. She loved feeling Clea’s voice wrapping around her like a warm hug. Clea liked to think that, even if some part of Isabella’s subconscious mind had figured out that she was being hypnotically altered by the music videos, she had decided to accept it.

After all, she was so much happier now.

And to make sure she stayed perfectly happy forever, Clea needed to alter her just a little more.

You are a lesbian, Isabella

Though muted, Clea could still hear her prerecorded voice clearly as the video pumped it into Isabella’s ears. More alteration would come later. First, Clea wanted to be sure to reinforce some other key suggestions.

You are attracted to Clea

You cannot resist Clea

Obeying Clea makes you feel good

Clea knows what’s best for you

Isabella’s face registered not even the slightest hint of resistance or rejection. After many months of constant repetition, she had long since accepted each and every one of them. They had become part of her. In all likelihood, they’d remain true even if Isabella was never hypnotized again. Once you accepted something deeply enough, it became self-reinforcing.

You are a submissive lesbian

You crave sexual contact with Clea

You are in love with Clea

Clea can give you a family

Clea loved the way a faint blush was visible in Isabella’s cheeks as she contemplated submission to Isabella.

You don’t like men

You cannot orgasm with men

You don’t need your ex-husband

Those ones were even less likely to need further reinforcement. They were barely relevant to Isabella’s new life. But Clea liked feeding them to Isabella anyway. A harmless little pleasure.

You are confident

You are proud of being a lesbian

You are comfortable with people knowing you’re a lesbian

You need to marry Clea and have her children

Watching that last particular set of suggestions become true for Isabella had been indescribably wonderful. Despite all opposition and prejudice, inside and out, Isabella had come to completely accept her new life and her new identity. She was out as a lesbian to everyone now. In her day-to-day life, she was rarely seen without a little lesbian pride flag pin somewhere on her clothes. At work, she had taken charge of organizing the company’s pride events.

Isabella was such a lesbian. Clea loved it.

Finally, after all the rest, Clea had planted a few new suggestions she thought would help to ensure Isabella’s happiness.

You love belonging to Clea

Clea is your lesbian mistress

You love being Clea’s submissive lesbian slave

You are proud of being Clea’s lesbian wife

No resistance to those either. Not even a flicker. Isabella remained completely and totally focused on the phone screen. After everything else, why would she fight? Why would she even question? Isabella already liked the idea of all of those things - especially the kinky stuff.

Clea could see the acceptance in her blank, hypnotized eyes as the mantras washed over her.

You crave being bred by Clea

Being pregnant with Clea’s children turns you on

You never take off your collar without permission

Clea’s pussy is the most delicious thing in the world

Clea giggled quietly to herself. Those final few hypnotic suggestions were, admittedly, completely self-indulgent. Were they essential for Isabella’s happiness? Perhaps not. But they wouldn’t hurt. Clea knew that she was going to enjoy them.

And moreover, she knew Isabella would too.

In fact, by the looks of it, she’d already started. As each of those suggestions was fed into Isabella’s ears, her cheeks started to develop a telltale, rosy glow, and her deep breaths took on a faint, panting, needy tone. Without waking, she shifted just a little, rubbing her thighs together. Clea grinned. She knew those signs very, very well by now.

Isabella was turned on.

How could she not be? Every new desire Clea was giving her was already being inflamed and catered to. She belonged to Clea, she was wearing her collar - and, above all, she was pregnant with Clea’s child. 

Now that she had such an intense kink for that, Isabella was going crazy.

Clea was very, very tempted to start playing with her right away. But she managed to restrain her eagerness and simply watched patiently as the music video started to loop the new suggestions over, and over, and over.

Eventually, though, it came to an end. After many long minutes, the music video had run its course. Once the suggestions were firmly planted in Isabella’s mind, the shifting patterns and colors on the phone’s screen came to a halt, and the binaural beats playing in Isabella’s ears faded away to silence.

With nothing keeping her in a trance, Isabella slowly began to stir. Her eyes, no longer held transfixed, started to blink and flutter as awareness returned to them. She started shifting around a little, and let out a few heavy, sleepy noises. Isabella arched her back and stretched as she situated herself, and when she noticed Clea lying next to her, she smiled warmly at her beloved.

“Hey,” the older woman said in a distant, dreamy voice.

“Hey yourself,” Clea threw back.

“I’m sorry.” Isabella rubbed at her eyes. Her brow furrowed for a moment as she tried to remember what had just happened. “What was I… oh, your meditation video! I guess it worked a little too well on me, I must have drifted off. That’s so embarrassing, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clea told her. “You deserve all the rest you need. You’re resting for two at the moment, right?”

Both of them giggled. Then, Clea reached across the bed and rested a hand, affectionately and possessively, on Isabella’s pregnant belly.

Isabella’s reaction was instant. She squeaked, and a sudden, hot flush hit her cheeks. Clea could tell exactly what was going on in her head. That gentle little touch had reminded Isabella of her situation. Her pregnancy.

And how intensely hot she suddenly found it.

“P… please,” Isabella whimpered.

Clea licked her lips. She couldn’t resist having just a little fun.

“Please?” Clea tilted her head, playing dumb. “Oh, you need more rest? Of course, my love. We can play around later. For now, you just stay right here and rest.”

“Nooooo,” Isabella whined, reaching for Clea. She was hopelessly weak to her lover’s teasing.

“No?” Clea could barely keep herself from giggling at Isabella’s plight. “Well, no, I guess we don’t have to have sex later either, if you really don’t want to.”

“I… need…” Between the blistering arousal and residual fogginess, Isabella was struggling to form words. But her intent, as she blushed and panted and reached desperately for Clea, was extremely clear. “Need… you… to fuck me.”

Clea smirked at her. In her mind, the older woman never looked prettier than she did like this. “Ask properly, darling.”

Isabella’s blush renewed itself, and she nodded submissively. “Yes, mistress. P-please fuck me, mistress.”

Clea licked her lips again. “Gladly.”

She propped herself up on one arm, and the hand Clea had rested on Isabella’s belly started rubbing and stroking, movingly slowly down the pregnant woman’s body as it did, reaching closer and closer to her sensitive places. Isabella whined. She was torn between gratitude that she was getting what she wanted, and impatience that Clea was still teasing her with gradual foreplay.

“You’re so hot,” Clea breathed. “Always - but especially like this.”

A loud moan forced its way out of Isabella’s throat. She looked embarrassed, and surprised at herself - surprised at just how hot she was finding Clea commenting on her pregnancy.

“You know why?” Clea told her, still fondling her belly. “Because this is mine. You’re having my child. For me. Because of me. And that means, even more than all the rest of you, this belongs to me.”

“Oh my god,” Isabella moaned. She looked overwhelmed by her own arousal as that thought wormed its way into her head, stoking the fire of her new breeding kink. “Yes! Yyyesss!”

Clea giggled again. “And I love that you love being owned and bred by a younger woman. You’re such a submissive dyke.”

Isabella just nodded enthusiastically. She was practically feverish with need. Desperate for some kind of relief, she reached down with her own hand, straining to touch herself.

But Clea swatted her hand away.

“No,” she told Isabella, gently but firmly. “That’s my job. Understand?”

Isabella let out another little whine of protest, but obediently let her hand fall against the bed. She wouldn’t touch herself without Clea’s permission. Clea loved that. She loved the bond of trust and care it represented. Clea took it very seriously, which was why she wasn’t going to be too mean.

But she knew Isabella loved it when she dragged things out just a little.

“But, you know what?” Clea said teasingly. “I seem to remember you telling me earlier all about how much you love servicing me and doing things for me. So, how about this? You make me cum first. Then I’ll fuck you.”

Isabella’s only response was yet another throaty, needy whine at the unfairness of Clea’s command. She didn’t complain, though. The older woman was rapidly sinking into subspace; the deep, all-encompassing mindset of complete, unquestioning obedience to her mistress. That clouded-over but adoring look in her eyes filled Clea’s heart with delight.

She decided to give Isabella a little extra incentive and test out another of her new post-hypnotic suggestions in the process.

“Don’t worry,” Clea told her. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Clea reached down and slipped a hand into her pants. She was already wet, of course; seeing Isabella this turned on and submissive always did that to her. Clea took a brief moment to gratify herself, dipping two fingertips into her pussy until they were coated and dripping with her own juices. Then she stopped - and presented the hand to Isabella’s lips.

She didn’t need to say anything. Isabella knew exactly what to do. She stretched up, opened her mouth, and started to suckle.

An instant later, her eyes flew wide in amazement.

“Oh my god,” Isabella panted around Clea’s fingers. “That tastes - you taste - amazing!”

“Thank you.” Clea giggled wickedly to herself. “Just noticed?”

“No, it’s…” Isabella was still lapping frantically at Clea’s hand, eager to enjoy every last drop. “Um, did you change your diet without telling me or something? T-this is…”

Clea raised an eyebrow. This was proving even more effective than she’d expected - not that that was a bad thing. Isabella’s own arousal was all but forgotten amidst her newfound thirst for Clea’s taste. She kept licking Clea’s fingertips until she was absolutely sure that no trace of her new favorite flavor remained - then a fresh hunger seemed to wash over her as it occurred to Isabella that plenty more of that delicious ambrosia was dripping from between Clea’s thighs.

“Mistress,” Isabella breathed. Her gaze was fixed on the spot. “May I eat you out? Right now?”

“My, my,” Clea commented, amused. “You’ve really changed your tune, my love.”

“I just… it’s…” Isabella couldn’t seem to fit it into words. She was frantic. Like a cat for catnip. “You wanted me to make you cum, right? S-so…”

There was something so very intoxicating about watching Isabella, a woman older and more senior than Clea, the woman she’d been pining after for so long, thinking of nothing but how much she desperately wanted to lick Clea’s pussy. It was the greatest possible turn-on.

“I did,” Clea allowed. She reached across the bed and stroked Isabella’s face affectionately. “But given how demanding you’re being, I think you’re going to have to convince me.” Her smile twisted into a smirk. “Beg. Like I taught you.”

Isabella shivered pleasurably for a moment. She loved Clea being confident and dominant just as much as Clea loved her being submissive and obedient. “Yes, mistress.”

With some effort, Isabella got upright and clambered up to her feet. In an efficient, unhurried way, she started removing her clothes - her dress, then her leggings, then her underwear - carefully folding each garment and setting it down beside herself in a neat pile as she did.

Once Isabella was completely naked, she started to kneel next to the bed. Clea soon noticed, though, that thanks to the increasingly large bump on her belly, she was having trouble. Clea immediately got up to assist her.

“Here,” she offered. “Let me help.”

Isabella nodded gratefully and took Clea’s arm, letting her mistress take some of her weight as she helped lower to the ground. Once there, Isabella folded her legs beneath her, straightened her back, and then bent forward at a stiff angle.

“Please, mistress,” she said simply. “Let me eat your pussy.”

Looking down at her like that, Clea had the best possible view of Isabella’s naked body. She saw it every day now, but that didn’t make it any less special or any less beautiful. Somehow, motherhood had only made Isabella’s gorgeous, mature curves even more appealing. Her fantastic figure was even more stunning; her hips were wider than ever before, and her boobs had grown at least a full cup size. Her rich, brown skin had a fresh glow to it - and, of course, her belly was full and heavy with her pregnancy.

In Clea’s eyes, she was an avatar of fertility and motherhood. She was so beautiful. And Clea couldn’t wait to have her between her legs.

“You may,” Clea told her.

“Thank you, mistress!” Isabella replied gratefully.

Isabella raised her head and eagerly shuffled forward, towards Clea. Clea, every bit as impatient as her, quickly unbuckled her pants, shucked them down to her knees, and then perched on the edge of the bed with her legs spread wide apart.

The older woman grinned proudly as she noted that Clea was just as wet as she was.

Clea’s panties were completely soaked, and Isabella wasted no time pulling them to one side and bringing her lips to Clea’s cunt. The very first touch reminded her just how wonderfully addictive she now found her girlfriend’s taste. With renewed eagerness, Isabella started kissing, licking, and worshiping with all her energy.

Clea threw back her head and moaned. Fuck, it felt incredible.

Over the brief but passionate course of their relationship, Isabella had gone from a virgin pussylicker to a practiced expert. Thanks to Clea’s firm teachings, she knew exactly how to best pleasure her mistress’s body. The right touches, the right rhythms - all of it was muscle memory, but for Clea, the experience was heightened even further by the sheer, unnatural desperation with which Isabella was eating her out.

It was like she was dying of thirst, and Clea’s wetness was all she had to drink. Isabella was barely pausing to breathe as she kissed Clea’s pussy and pressed her tongue as deeply as she could inside her. All of Clea’s breaths were coming out as moans, and a wild grin was spread across her face. She couldn’t believe how well this particular hypnotic suggestion was working out.

Once Isabella’s initial thirst was sated, she settled in a slightly steadier rhythm, pausing occasionally to adore Clea’s inner thighs with deep, loving kisses or to tease and suckle on her clit. Soon, as the pleasure rose in Clea’s body, her entire body started heaving and shuddering and each one of her moans forced all the air out of her lungs. Clea’s climax was coming.

“F-fuck!” she panted. “I l-love that I made you so good at this!”

Isabella’s only response was a delighted purr that Clea could feel echoing through her own body.

“Yeah,” Clea moaned, as Isabella’s tongue touched a particularly sensitive spot just inside her. “Right there. Right there.”

She was usually content to simply sit back and relax as Isabella ate her out, but with her orgasm approaching, Clea reached down and rested her hand on the back of Isabella’s head, using it to guide the older woman and control her pace. Sensing Clea’s intent, Isabella redoubled her efforts, and with her tongue moving so quickly and eagerly, Clea soon felt herself cresting the wave of her orgasm.

“Yeah! Right there!” Clea repeated breathlessly. She clamped down with her hand and her thighs at once, forcing Isabella against her body, denying her air. “Good girl. Good girl! I’m - fuck!”

Clea came. The pleasure hit her with such a fierce intensity, she needed to grip the sides of the bed with both hands just to keep herself upright. Instead, as she rode out the orgasm, Clea crossed both of her legs behind Isabella’s head, squeezing her like a vice, forcing the older woman to keep eating her out until her pleasure slowly, finally ebbed away - not that Isabella needed much forcing. She was just as eager as Clea to prolong her pleasure and heighten her orgasm.

Anything for her beloved mistress.

Eventually, the strength drained from Clea’s body and she let her legs fall apart, finally allowing Isabella to come up for air. The older woman gratefully slumped back a little. She looked like a total mess. Her face was covered with Clea’s slick, sticky wetness, and her eyes were as glassy and blank as Clea had ever seen them. Isabella had been so caught up in worshiping Clea, she was all but hypnotized.

It was just about the hottest thing Clea had ever seen.

“Good girl,” Clea sighed once more, her breath coming back to her in fits and starts. “OK, my love. Your turn.”

She reached down and helped Isabella back up to her feet. Isabella obeyed effortlessly. She was like a doll, just waiting to be posed. Once Clea laid her down on the bed and clambered up between her knees, though, she realized what was going to happen. A deep blush hit Isabella’s cheeks. She’d had her fill of Clea’s taste; now the near-forgotten need in her own body was coming roaring back.

“Please, mistress,” Isabella whined. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Don’t worry,” Clea replied lovingly. “You’ve been very, very good for me, Bella. You deserve every reward in the world.”

With that, she pushed her face up between Isabella’s perfectly soft, appealing thighs and started to kiss her.

Just like Isabella, Clea knew her lover’s body intimately and expertly. She knew exactly how best to make Isabella feel good. After all, she’d already gone down on her dozens and dozens of times. However, the approach she took was very, very different.

Clea had promised to make Isabella cum. She hadn’t promised to do it right away.

“P-please,” Isabella begged incoherently as Clea started kissing her way up her inner thighs, tortuously slow. “Please. Please, please, please!”

Clea wasn’t to be rushed. She kept a steady, gradual pace, kissing and nipping, inching ever closer to Isabella’s pussy. Isabella squirmed and writhed madly from the teasing pleasure, bucking her hips in an effort to shift herself down the bed, closer to Clea’s lips - but Clea wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she just giggled at how much Isabella was dripping down her own thighs.

“Wow,” she commented, “you really need this, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Isabella barked out. “G-god, yes!”

“Cute,” Clea purred. “Tell me, Bella, did you ever think you’d be like this? Knocked up and owned by a younger woman? Lying on your back, begging her to lick your cunt?”

Isabella’s needy thrashing intensified as she tried to cover her face and hide from the burning-hot shame that assailed her. After a moment, though, Clea stroked a single fingertip across her pussy, and Isabella was forced to grip the bed sheets, exposing the submissive, embarrassed, lust-drunk look on her face.

“I… I… nooooo,” Isabella protested. “I… I’m… you’re… n-not fair!”

Clea giggled. She was right, of course - but only Clea knew why.

“Yeah?” Clea teased. “I’m not fair? How does that explain how much of a mess you’re making? You’re dripping all over the bed, babe.”

“Nooo,” Isabella howled again in futile denial. “You… y-you… did something… to me!”

“Oh, I did?” Clea put her lips very, very close to Isabella’s skin, letting her warm breath tease her. “What did I do?”

"I… don’t…” Isabella gave up and simply moaned. She couldn’t think, and both of them knew it.

“No, c’mon,” Clea told her. “Tell me. What did I do?”

“You… you… I…” Isabella was trying her hardest to muster an answer, but Clea wasn’t making it easy for her. Whenever Isabella looked like she was close to spitting out a word longer than a syllable, Clea dragged her tongue across her cunt in a slow, languid stroke that turned the older woman’s mind to mush.

“You can do it,” Clea teased. “Answer me. What did I do?”

Eager to obey, Isabella eventually managed to summon a response. “You… m-made me… a… lesbian!”

Clea blinked, surprised. She paused for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what it f-felt like.” Without Clea distracting her at every moment, Isabella could speak a little easier. “Before you, I never… but, god, you’re just so amazing and supportive and b-beautiful. Without you, I might never have realized.”

Clea relaxed. Smiled. “I see. So it’s my fault you’re such a total bottom.”

“You- ah!”

Isabella tried to answer, but her words broke apart hopelessly as Clea started eating her out again. This time, there was no teasing. No foreplay. Isabella was beyond the need for that. She was already at a rolling boil, desperate for any kind of release.

Which meant her pleasure was all the greater when Clea finally turned her attention to her clit. She wrapped her lips around it, sucking and lapping, bringing one hand up to rub against the lips of Isabella’s pussy.

Her efforts had Isabella moaning like never before.

The older woman would have been thrashing and squirming like crazy, except that all the strength had completely drained from her limbs. Instead, all Isabella could do was reach to either side of herself and gather up the bedsheets into her fists whilst all the air was forced out of her lungs.

“P… p-please!” Isabella moaned, in a voice higher and needier than ever before. “P-please! I n-n-need… need…”

Clea knew she was begging for something different this time: for mercy. For just a moment to catch her breath. But Clea wasn’t going to give it to her. Instead, she redoubled her efforts, working Isabella’s clit as quickly and furiously as she could, keen to bring her lover to the point of orgasm as quickly as possible.

It didn’t take long.

Isabella’s orgasm came screaming. After so much teasing, for so long, it hit her like a thunderbolt. Her moans filled the entire house, and all around Clea, she twitched and shuddered violently as the sheer force of the pleasure short-circuited her brain. Clea guided her through it expertly, switching up her rhythm to ensure the pleasure hit Isabella in waves, one climax after the next, folding atop each other, guiding her to the very peak of bliss.

And all the while, Clea was grinning. The moment was perfect. Both of them were in heaven.

Once Isabella’s pleasure finally ebbed away, she relaxed into a happy, addled daze. Clea gave her a moment to herself, to recover from the sheer over-stimulation. But once she felt Isabella was ready, Clea reached over to her bedside table and retrieved a set of papers from the drawer.

“What’s that?” Isabella asked, turning to look at her. She was still flushed, and her face was drenched with sweat. She looked so happy.

“Another reward,” Clea replied. “I was thinking it might be time.”

“What does that-“ Isabella started to ask, but froze when Clea handed her the papers and saw what was written at the top of the first page.

They were marriage papers.

“We should make it official, right?” Clea asked. “Before the due date, I mean. Assuming you’ll say ‘yes’, that is.”

“Yes.” Isabella’s grin split her face from ear to ear. “I’m saying ‘yes’.”

Immediately, Clea’s face hurt from smiling too. She threw herself on the bed next to Isabella and wrapped the older woman up into a tight, loving embrace.

“I love you,” Clea told her.

“I love you too,” came Isabella’s confident reply. After the two of them pulled away from each other, Isabella turned her attention to the papers and giggled. “I was kind of expecting a ring.”

“I’ll get one,” Clea promised. “But for now, you already have the only ring you truly need.”

She reached out and touched her fingertips to Isabella’s collar. Isabella blushed.

“Do you have a pen?” she asked.

Clea did. She handed it to Isabella - but before she could sign the marriage papers, Clea stopped her with a hand over the page.

“Actually, there’s one more thing we should agree on first,” Clea said.

“What’s that?” Isabella asked.

Clea winked at her. “Two boys and a girl. Right?”