A Walk in the Park
My name is Hannah Jensen and I'm a happily married woman. Very happily
married. I'm thirty-one years old, have a 13 month old daughter named Sarah,
and a wonderful husband, Jim, who's a CPA. We've been married for six
years and it's been wonderful. Jim is the classic `tall, dark and handsome'
man that every girl dreams about.
Don't get me wrong, we've had our problems, but for the most part it's
The only rough stretch came during the first six months after Sarah's
birth. I couldn't seem to rekindle any interest in sex and Jim suffered
through it without a murmur. I worked hard and got back into shape and did my
best, but sex just didn't appeal to me. It wasn't that I was scared of
getting pregnant again (Sarah's birth was very difficult), but..... I was just
Sarah was just six months old when we went for a walk in the park. We live
in a nice suburb that borders a big park with a world famous rose garden
that's over 100 years old. I love to put Sarah in her carriage when the
weather is good and walk through the park with her. I know she'll love the
flowers when she's older. This particular day was a very hot day in July, a
week or so after the 4th. The sun was shining, the sky was cloudless, and it
was very humid.
When we left the house I was wearing a rather baggy, loose fitting
sleeveless cotton top, a short denim skirt, and sandals. I was back in shape and
proud of it. I'm not beautiful, but I am fairly attractive. I'm 5'8"
tall, usually weigh around 125 pounds, and I have a nice figure (34c-25-35).
My legs are my best feature - they're long and sleek and nicely curved and
my thighs are smooth and firm. I'm proud of them and like to show them
off. As for the rest, I have brown hair, worn very short now, brown eyes,
and a smooth olive-tan complexion.
We crossed the street into the park and went up the path to the rose
garden. Sarah was content to suck on her pacifier and wave her little hands
around. I walked slowly to give me time to admire the flowers and to avoid
getting sweaty. It was hot and I knew I couldn't keep Sarah out too long -
but there were shady spots where I could park the carriage and take a break
out of the sun.
After a few minutes I turned away from the rose garden and crossed the
grass to the new rock garden that had been put in over the past two seasons.
It was shady there and much cooler. I was crouching to examine a plant I'
d never seen before when I heard the click and whir of a motorized camera.
I glanced up and saw a very attractive young woman taking pictures a few
feet down the path. She glanced over and smiled and I smiled back.
She had a Nikon camera, with a macro zoom lens, set on a sturdy
professional tripod. My husband and I dabble in photography (he'd hate it if he knew
I said dabble - he's serious about it) so I knew that I was looking at a
professional setup. The woman looked to be no more than 18 or 19 but I
knew she had to be older. She was a redhead and I was surprised at how tanned
she was. Her thick red hair was pulled back into a French braid that hung
almost to her waist. She was wearing denim shorts, a tank top, and was
barefoot. Her arms and legs were smoothly muscled and I guessed she worked
She took a couple of more shots and then straightened up and walked over
and bent over the carriage. She smiled at Sarah and glanced up to ask me
how old she was. I saw that her eyes were a deep green, a shade I'd never
seen before. "Six months, her name is Sarah." My voice sounded strange to
me and I wondered if I was catching a summer cold.
The redhead grinned and said, "My name is Sara - without an `h'. Your
Sarah is very pretty."
"So are you!" As soon as the words were out of my mouth I found myself
wondering why I'd said that. It was true of course, but still....
She blushed and said, "Thank you, you're very kind."
Desperate to change the subject, I asked about the pictures she was
taking. She told me that she was a professional photographer and was working on
a book about public gardens in the United States. We chatted for a while
and I found myself fascinated by her descriptions of the gardens she'd
visited and photographed and the characters she'd met while doing so.
She had a wedding ring on and I asked how her husband dealt with all her
traveling. She blushed again and admitted that she wasn't married, she just
wore the ring as a way to discourage unwanted attention. We talked for a
few more minutes and then she asked me if I'd mind posing for her. I
hesitated and then let her talk me into it. I wanted to pose, but didn't want
to seem too eager.
She moved her tripod and replaced the macro zoom with a 105mm telephoto.
I posed in front of the rock garden, moving and changing position as she
directed. I found that I enjoyed posing very much. She kept up a steady
stream of encouragement, directions, flattery, and just plain chatter.
She stopped at one point to change film and I changed Sarah's diaper while
she was busy. Then she posed me crouching in front of an ornamental grass
plant, a big purple specimen that I wished I had in my garden. I was
facing the camera at a 45 degree angle and she directed me to pull my skirt back
a little to show more of my `long beautiful legs' as she put it. I
tugged it up a little and then a little more. She moved a little and asked me to
open my knees slightly - I knew she was going to get a revealing shot of
my inner thighs, but I didn't mind.
She finished the roll very quickly and I learned a little about what it
was like to model for a professional photographer - it was mostly a matter of
taking directions, something I've always done well. She had me take my
sandals off for the third or fourth shot, then kneel with my skirt up high to
show my thighs. A later pose had me roll my top up from the waist to show
my bare midriff. I quite enjoyed posing and was disappointed when the
second roll of film was finished.
Sara told me she'd develop and print the pictures overnight and would have
them ready the next day. She offered to meet me in the park and give me a
set of prints. I hesitated for a moment and then suggested that she bring
them to the house in the morning. "My mother is taking Sarah for the day
so I can work in the yard. You're welcome to come over for breakfast and I
'll show you my garden." I held my breath while I waited for her to
answer. I didn't know why, but it was suddenly very important that she accept
It was her turn to hesitate. Then she smiled and said, "I was planning to
check out of my motel and leave in the morning after dropping off the
prints, but I guess I could stay over and spend the day visiting. Maybe I can
get some pictures of your garden for my book. She gave me the address of
the motel and the phone number so I could call if anything came up. Then we
walked to the parking lot and she packed her stuff in her van and followed
me home, irking a few drivers who didn't like her slow pace.
She pulled into the driveway and we chatted for a few minutes. She wrote
down the address and I gave her the number of my cell phone. Then it was
time for me to take Sarah in for lunch and time for Sara to go. She held
her hand out and we shook. Then, holding my hand tightly, she pulled me
forward until I was pressed against the door of the van. We stared at each
other for a moment and then she kissed me on the mouth. It was strange kissing
another woman - strange and different, softer, more intimate, more erotic
than kissing a man. I was stunned. I leaned againt the door and let her
tongue probe deep into my mouth.
The kiss ended, finally, and I stepped back, dazed. I stared at her for a
moment and she smiled and whispered, "Bye. Call me if you change your
mind about tomorrow." Then she put the van in gear and backed out of the
driveway. I stood there and watched her drive down the street and turn the
corner. Then I took Sarah inside and fixed lunch for both of us. The rest of
the day passed in a kind of a blur. I couldn't forget the kiss. Nor could
I forget how much I had enjoyed modelling for Sara. And I couldn't
forget her strange green eyes.
That night seemed to last forever. My husband got home late and was
preoccupied with some problems one of his clients was having. I went to bed at
10 p.m. and had trouble falling asl**p. Then I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and
had trouble getting back to sl**p. I went downstairs and walked in the yard,
wearing only the man's undershirt that I use for a nightshirt. It's an XL
and fits me like a short dress - to mid-thigh. The armholes are huge and
revealing and it's been washed so many times that it fits me like a glove
and the material is very thin. It's my favorite thing to wear to bed, but
that night it felt stifling even though the temperature at 2:00 a.m. was
only 70 degrees. I turned the hose on and let a stream of cold water wash
over me. My nipples hardened and then I was shivering. I went inside and
dried off and went back to bed nude.
I was up at 6:00 and took Sarah over to my mother's house at 7:00. I was
home and showered by 8:00. Then I tried to decide what to wear. I finally
decided on plain work-in-the-garden casual - an old pair of faded denim
cutoffs, a sleeveless denim shirt - old, faded, and soft, plain cotton underwear
(Hanes), white cotton socks and workboots. I took a long look in the
mirror and decided that the cutoffs weren't short enough. I took them off and
cut another 2" off each leg and then made a little slit in each side next
to the seam. Much better, much sexier.
Sara arrived at 9:00, wearing linen shorts and a sleeveless top cropped
just below her bust. She looked very sexy. I poured her a cup of coffee
while she spread the prints out on the dining room table. I was stunned when I
saw them. They were black and white, developed and printed in a portable
darkroom in the bathroom of her motel room, but they were great! I
looked.... professional, sexy, beautiful, mysterious. I looked at each one
several times. It wasn't vanity - I was just stunned at how good she made me
I asked her how she'd done it and she grinned, "Magic, it's magic! But
seriously, there are just some people that the camera loves - photogenic some
call it, but I call it love, and you happen to be one of them. People
like you always look great in pictures. You should see some of the top
models in person - you wouldn't give them a second glance. But the camera loves
them and they look great on film. If you were a few years younger....."
Her voice trailed off and I shrugged. "That's okay. I'm 31 and I'm
happy with my life."
Sara nodded. "I can see that. You ooze contentment, but I sense a slight
discord. And yesterday you did seem to respond...."
I shook my head. "Not now, please. Let's go look at my gardens." I
turned and started toward the kitchen and the back door. Sara grabbed her
cameras and followed. I stepped out onto the deck and held the door for her,
enjoying her gasp of surprise as she got her first glimpse of our backyard.
Most people react like that.
Our house is set on a lot that measures 400' wide by 800' deep.
Originally part of a 15 acre parcel owned by the city, and intended to be part of
the park, it had been cut off from the park when the adjoining town, in
which the land lay, insisted on putting a road through. The road I live on.
So the 15 acres was never developed and the land our house was on was sold
to a prominent politican who built the house in the early 1930s. We bought
it three years ago. The rest of the parcel is used by the park for various
purposes. There is a small greenhouse, a maintainence shed, and quite a
number of experimental plots. A lot of it is quite overgrown. Our land is
completely surrounded by an 8' stockade fence that the city put in and
maintains. So our yard is very private.
And very beautiful. We have a two-level deck on the back of the house with
exits onto the upper level from the back bedrooms. Stairs lead down to
the lowerlevel which has an exits onto it from the kitchen and diningroom.
Then another set of stairs lead down to the ground level where there is a
bluestone patio surrounding an inground pool and spa. To the left is a
three-car garage with a small apartment on the second floor. The pool is
surrounded by a 4' wrought iron fence. Beyond the pool is a big stretch of lawn.
The land slopes upward starting about 120' behind the house. This is
where I've put my gardens. Over the past two years I've created a series of
terraces for my rock garden. In the far back corner, on the right, there
is a huge boulder that was left when the house was built. It's about 9' in
diameter and must weight 7 or 8 tons. It's just inside the fence and is
the focal point of my garden. I've got 4 levels of terraces that I've dug
by hand. I've had some smaller boulders brought in - 2'-4' in diameter
and weighing 500-1,000 pounds. I've got them s**ttered around the various
levels and now I'm filling in with smaller rocks and crushed stone. I've
started planting on the upper two levels and I'm currently working on putting
in a form for a water garden on the lowest level. I've had water and
electricity run out there and I'm working on the hole.
Sara glanced at me with a delighted smile on her face and then skipped
down the stairs and ran across the lawn to the garden. I followed at a slower
pace, enjoying her enthusiasm. She headed back to the garden and began
snapping pictures. As I approached, she turned and snapped a few of me. "Oh,
Hannah!" She exclaimed, "I love it! I want to document the rest of your
I smiled and told her that she was welcome anytime. I watched her as she
shot a full roll of film. "Just preliminary shots, I want to have them so I
can plan. Can I shoot you as you work?"
"Of course, I'd love it. My mom takes Sarah two days a week and Jim is
here on weekends to watch her."
She turned and looked back at the house and noticed the balcony on the
back of the garage - and the skylights. "What's up there?"
I explained how the original owner's wife (the politican) had artisitic
ambtions and he'd build an apartment onto the second level of the garage for
her to use as a studio. "We had plans to renovate when we first bought the
house. We thought we'd rent it out and the income would be a nice cushion."
Sara nodded. "What happened?"
"Well, we were caught in a kind of Catch-22 situation. We needed the
income but didn't have the money for the renovations. Then my grandmother died
and left me some money. Quite a lot of money actually, and we didn't need
the income anymore so we never renovated the apartment."
Sara grinned. "Can I look at it?"
"Of course. But I have to warn you. It's pretty grim."
She grabbed my hand and tugged. "Come on, please! I want to see it."
I let her lead me back up the yard to the house. She went out to her van
to get her equipment bag and I went inside to get the keys to the apartment.
When I came back out she was just setting her bag down on the deck. She
was very excited as we climbed the stairs to the door. I expected her to be
disappointed when I finally got the door opened and ushered her inside,
but she was delighted. The place was a real mess, but she saw the
possibilities - like I'd seen them for a garden in what had been an overgrown yard.
The garage apartment is basically two big rooms. A combination
kitchen/living room and a bedroom/studio. There is a bathroom and a small room for
storage. The total area is about 25' x 35' as the garage is really a 3 car
garage with a storage area. Sara walked around and nodded occasionally,
whispering to herself. Once she lifted her hand to point at something on
the ceiling, a water spot, and her top lifted, baring her small, pert
breasts. It was ..enchanting.
She caught me looking and grinned. "Do you like them?"
I felt myself blushing and stammered, "YYYYes, they're pretty." What a
stupid comment I thought to myself immediately afterward. Then I stamped my
foot in mock anger and said, "Don't do that - don't make me blush like
that. I hate it."
She grinned and said, "Then you don't want me to take my top off?"
I blushed again and turned away.
She laughed. "I heard you. What was that you muttered under your breath."
I glanced over my should, my face still flaming. "Bitch. That's what I
said." And I said, "Yes."
She smiled, a sweet gentle smile that lit up her face like a thousand watt
I nodded. "Yes, really." And wondered what the hell I was doing.
She slipped her top off and tucked it into the waistband of her shorts. I
tried not to stare at her but her bare breasts were so pretty. They're
small, maybe a b-cup, perfectly conical in shape, and tipped with hard little
pink nipples. Which instantly came erect.
She looked at me looking at her and grinned again. "Now you."
I nodded and slowly unbuttoned my shirt. I slipped it off and looked for a
place to put it, but there wasn't a spot that was free of dust. I turned
and opened the door and d****d my shirt over the railing. Then I turned
back and looked straight at Sara as I reached back to unhook my bra. When I
eased it off my breasts bounced gently and Sara took a deep breath. "God,"
she whispered, "You have beautiful tits. I wish mine were bigger." I
tossed my bra on top of my shirt and stepped back into the room. It felt
deliciously wicked to be topless in the presence of another woman, an almost
We walked around the apartment and Sara pointed out things that could be
done. Then she said she wanted to talk seriously about leasing the place.
We went back to the house and I poured coffee for us and we went out onto
the deck. Sara made her pitch. She said she'd do the renovations herself,
except for the plumbing, if I'd pay for the material and then lease her the
place for a year with an option for a second year at an increase of no more
than 10%. I was hesitant, but she convinced me that she could do the
work. She grew up with five older b*****rs, the only daughter, and her father
was a carpenter. One of her b*****rs is an electrican. She told me she
could do the carpentry and the electrical work - we'd just need to have it
inspected. And we'd have to find a plumber. Preferably a woman plumber.
We talked money and she agreed to do a detailed estimate of material
costs. We argued about the amount of the lease and came to an agreement. She
dragged her equipment bag over to the table and pulled out a pad and pencil.
Something else fell out, something that looked like a rubber ball, but
had black nylon straps attached to it. She picked it up quickly and went to
stuff it back into the bag. I asked her what it was. This time it was her
turn to blush and I giggled as a wave of red moved down over her chest.
She said something too low for me to catch and I asked her to repeat it.
"Bitch. I said bitch." Then she grinned. "It's a ball gag." I must
have look puzzled because she shook her head and continued, "It's a gag. I'
m into mild b&d. Does that shock you?"
"A little," I admitted. "But I'm also curious."
She pulled the ball gag out of the bag again and set it on the table.
Then she pulled out some additional items, naming each as she set it down.
"Wrist cuffs." Leather straps like little belts with rings and a place
for a small padlock.
"Ankle cuffs." Pretty much the same except slight larger.
"Nipple Clips." Small metal clips with padded jaws and strong springs. I
shivered when I saw them.
"Chains." A set of short chains with very fine links and spring clips on
"Dildo." A realistic penis made of rubber - about 8" long and thick.
"Butt Plug." A black plastic device that had a flared base.
"Another Dildo." This one attached to a pair of black nylon panties.
"Vibrator." A big one with a black switch on the base.
"Penis Gag." Another realistic penis about 5" long and thick, with
"Anal Vibrator." Thinner and not as long as the other one.
"More clips." Small metal clips some with padded jaws and some with
When she was done she sat back and looked at me. "Well, are you too
shocked? Should I pack up and leave?"
I glanced from her to her collection and then back again. "No." My voice
was a whisper. "Please don't leave."
She stared at me in silence for a moment and then nodded. She picked up
the wrist cuffs and asked if I wanted to try them on. I hesitated and then
nodded. "Yes, I would." My voice still a whisper.
She got up and came around the table. I held out my hands while she
attached the cuffs. The she had me stand up and bring my wrists around behind
my back. When I did, she used a spring clip to fasten the cuffs together. I
was helpless. And shocked at how excited I was.
Sara watched me try to free myself and smiled when I gave up.
I admitted that I was. She asked if I wanted her to take them off. I
hesitated and then whispered, "Not if you don't want to."
She grinned. Then she picked up a pair of nipple clamps and ran her
fingers over my nipples until they were erect and hard. I closed my eyes and
moaned as she fastened the clamps to my nipples. The pain was intense, but
bearable. And made me very wet.
She watched me for a minute and then informed me that she was going to
strip me. I shook my head. "No, please don't."
"Do you want me to gag you?" She waited for me to answer.
"Then be a good girl." She unsnapped my shorts and eased them down over
my hips. Then she knelt to work them off over my workboots. She folded
them neatly and placed them over the back of my chair. Still kneeling, she
reached up and pulled my panties down. I lifted each foot in turn and she
worked them off over my boots. Then she glanced up and asked if I wanted my
workboots on or off. I thought about it for a moment. "Off. I want to
be entirely nude."
She untied my boots and took them off. But she insisted on leaving my
socks on. "Looks sexier," she explained. Then she reached up and ran the
back of her hand over my thick pubic bush. "This will have to go." I
She stood up and looked me over carefully, motioning me to turn.
"Slowly, I want to study your body." I turned slowly, my eyes closed.
I had never been so excited. The pain in my nipples was delicious.
After a minute or two, she told me I could stop. "You have an incredibly
beautiful body. I want to photograph you extensively. I want you to work
nude in the garden. Will you?"
I opened my eyes and found I was facing away from her. I turned and told
her that I'd think about it. She stepped close and removed the nipple clips.
I sighed as the pain vanished. Then she unsnapped the spring clip and
freed my wrists. I stood there, hands at my sides, and waited.
She sat down and looked up at me. "Decision time." She reached up
suddenly and slipped a hand between my legs. Her fingers came away wet. She
licked them delicately, like a cat licks its paw. "You're very wet and very
tasty." She looked up at me and smiled. "Where do we go from here?"
I shook my head. "I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I just don't
"Do you want me to leave?" She waited patiently while I thought it over.
"No, I don't."
"You were, are, obviously turned on. Why?"
"You. You turn me on. And so do these things." I gestured at the
bondage toys spread across the table. "And so does the pain," I whispered. "
The delicious pain."
She kicked her sandals off and stretched her bare feet out in front of
her. "You have to make a decision. Right now. We can go ahead or we can
stop and remain just friends. If you want to go ahead then your place is on
your knees for I mean to have you as my slave. My nude personal slave. I
want you on your belly, licking my feet and acknowledging your slavery."
I took a deep breath and looked out across the yard. Then I looked back at
Sara. Small, slim, beautiful Sara with her pretty legs and pert little
tits. And her wide, smiling mouth. I dropped to my knees and then down onto
my belly. I kissed each of her small, pretty feet and then licked them in
submission. She sighed with pleasure. Then she leaned over and fastened
the cuffs together behind my back. I was a slave.