Margaret and Christina

This story is a work of fiction. All the names, places and characters are fictitious and derived from the author's imagination. It contains descriptions of lesbian sex. If this story is illegal where you are then don't read it. The author retains all rights to the story.

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.... http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Margaret and Christina

Chapter 1

We had known each other for many years, Emily and I. We were typical, boy-crazy teens, experimenting with sex and drugs together, and with each other. She had been one of my favorite partners. She was pliable, and had a submissive nature. It was with her that I learned how to better manipulate people into doing what I wanted in bed. It was with her that I learned how to get off especially hard. I had some of my most exciting and intimate sexual experiences when I knew she was reluctant to bend to my will, and when that reluctance finally gave way to abandon.

I remember the day this sexual misconduct began. I had been dating a boy in high school named Paul. The day after having sex he dumped me for Emily. About a week later she and I had a fight about it at lunch. As the argument heated up, a crowd had gathered around. She tried to throw it in my face that Paul was hers now.

"So what," I said. "Just remember, every time you suck his cock you're eating my pussy." I'll never forget the look on her face. Not only could she not think of a comeback, and not only did I see the look of shock in her eye, but I also saw her swallow, as if she had, in fact, recently given him a blowjob. It was a proud moment for a young girl showing off in front of the hateful hounds of war; a less proud moment for an adult, in retrospect.

Once the two of them broke up three days later, she and I became friends, and soon after, lovers. I considered my remarks in school that day for months. Perhaps my crude comment had planted a seed in both of us, one that grew into fantasies of which we were mostly unaware. This sparked in me an interest in human nature which I would later pursue.

Christina, or Chris, as we called her, was Emily's older sister. She was a brunette, whereas Emily was blonde. Both girls had blue eyes. Emily's eyes, however, were no match for Chris's, which were a majestic, deep blue ocean that I could have fallen into and said "fuck the world." It was the color of her eyes set against her dark hair that was most striking. Like anyone, of course, she was not without imperfections. Her nose was a little too wide, and her ears stuck out a little too far. Her lips were sensuous, yet her smile never quite reached the corners of her mouth, I used to think. This did not always work against her; she was tough and strong, and wanted everyone to know it.

Emily was more cute than pretty, with the same pug nose, and a physique not too dissimilar from a linebacker. While Emily had nice, full-sized breasts, Chris's boobs were enormous, oversized even for her Rubenesque figure. I'll never forget casual conversation she and I were having about Emily. She felt self-conscious because Emily's boobs had the perfect shape, and her own were too big and saggy. I scolded her for being too hard on herself. She made an off-the-cuff remark, saying, "Easy for you to say. Yours are exactly like Emily's. If I were a man, I'd just want to squeeze them!" We had a good laugh. Yet, there it was again; a small seed grew. I had always thought of her as completely heterosexual, yet I soon went through a phase in which I fantasized about the three of us together. In a perverse way, Chris's aversion to bisexuality amplified my lust.

As we got older, I fell out of my drug-infested, crazy, irresponsible youth. Unfortunately, Emily did not. She stayed a total loser, had two kids, two abortions, no job and no future. No matter how hard I tried, I could not help her. She was stuck in the mud, and would remain there for many years until she later died of alcohol poisoning at the age of fifty-two. I grieved more for the friend and lover of my childhood than I did for the waste of life she had become.

Chris was, in most ways, the polar opposite. She had her shit together. Like Emily, she had two children, but instead of an aversion to responsibility and an addiction to drugs and alcohol, she had ambition, a husband, and a career in nursing. No way was she settling for living off food stamps in a trailer, and in the worst part of Chicago, no less. As I began to discover, I felt the same way. I grew up. I went to school and got my master's in psychology. I met, fell in love with, and married a wonderful man named Alex, and have a child of my own.

So, while Emily wallowed in the mire of stupidity and self-indulgence, the rest of us moved on. Chris and I became closer as the years went by, keeping in touch frequently by phone and text, as well as having lunch or dinner every once in a while. She was always good company, and each of us relied on the other for support and friendship.

Then came the day that she needed me more than ever. Her husband, Bill, had been cheating on her. Though it was not the first time he had done so, for her it was the last time. After several months of a nasty separation and custody battle, they divorced.

The struggle was daily for Chris. For a long time, she was bouncing off the walls, going from happy and engaged, to miserable and bawling her eyes out. It seemed like I was the only person able to comfort her during much of this dark period. Well, actually I think self-pity was her true friend and ally. Of course, I was there for her as much as possible, but I never thought I made a real difference. She had to get over it. She had to move on. And she had to do it on her own. I think that awful cycle was finally broken when she decided to go back to school and finish the AS in computer programming and analysis she had begun before marriage. To be sure, it was a proud moment for her; a turning point.

I'll never forget the day she called. It was a Thursday in mid-July. We needed to celebrate, she informed me. She had the weekend to herself, with no kids, no chores, and no responsibilities. To be honest, it surprised me when she suggested we have dinner at her house Saturday night. She liked to drink wine, sometimes to excess, and I really thought that she would have wanted a night out on the town. I guess she was exhausted from work and the kids. Yet, I could also hear the joy in her voice. After we talked about what to have for dinner, she said there was no one else she would rather celebrate with than her best friend. This took me aback. I knew we were good friends, but this? I was truly flattered, and there was a bit of a catch in my throat when I told her I'd be there.

I loved her, obviously, but something stirred inside me during that call. It was not just friendship, affection or tenderness; I felt a small, brief, yet immutable pang of desire. Had I read too much into it? Probably so. Chris had always been so straight-laced that, excepting my prior, almost baseless fantasies, I would have scoffed at any hint of her interest in women. Besides, she knew I was married. She did not know, however, the nature of my marriage.

Saturday evening came, and I had not yet conquered this nagging little demon. I was jittery and nervous. My mother always said my imagination was too active and vivid for my own good. Thank God all the nonsense disappeared when she opened the door and grabbed me in a great big hug. It was a relief to find that my focus instantly returned to the friendship of this person I had known so long. I was so happy for her. She had triumphed over adversity, and seemed even to be starting a whole new life.

As we discussed, she had cooked her favorite foods, a good sign, I thought. There was baked chicken, macaroni and cheese, toasted Italian garlic bread, a delicious salad of dark leafy greens, and numerous small bowls of mix-ins like onions, mushrooms, olives, and raisins. Then, she broke out her favorite wine, a white zinfandel, which had been chilling in her wine fridge. We sat down to enjoy this treat, and she poured us each a glass.

Dinner was a real gab-fest, almost non-stop talking. Of course, it wasn't all happy and giddy. There were still the issues of Emily, the divorce only a year prior, the wasted years with a scum bag like Bill, the regret of having taken him back not once but twice, only to have him spaz out a third time. Wounds that deep and painful would take a long time to heal.

We started cleaning up afterwards, still chatting mainly about our hopes and dreams for the future. Where would she look for a job? Would she relocate? Had she been dating? Anyone special? I was being a nosy pest. The ups and downs of dinner almost felt like the ups and downs she had experienced over the past few years. In a way, we had relived the recent past. Much water had flowed under the bridge.

She remembered that she had a little something for dessert, and enticed me to sit back down. After a celebratory toast and some dark chocolate to counterbalance the zippy zinfandel, our conversation grew quieter, a bit more somber. Each of us was seated to one side of her small round kitchen table, each turned slightly towards one another. She became melancholy. "Meg, I feel like I have no confidence. I don't know how to express myself anymore. Not just with you, but with everybody and anybody. Sometimes I feel like my whole life has drained away and there's almost nothing left. All this time I could have been with someone worth keeping."

"You know," I told her, "that's some major bullshit. I thought we had gotten past most of your depression and self-pity. Your piece-of-shit ex-husband should not still have this power over you."

"Mostly I think I have gotten past it. Usually I do believe in myself, but then sometimes I'm just not sure. I lose confidence all of a sudden. I might not be too concerned if it didn't happen so quickly, so emphatically, like the floor just drops out from under me," she said.

"Well, yeah, of course," I told her. "Not very many people in this world are positive all the time, especially people who live with the kind of the stressors you've had to endure, and the frequency. I think you sometimes forget how much you have going for you. You're drop-dead gorgeous, you've got a great body (this was stretching a bit, and I think she flinched a little), you have a brand new career ahead of you, and you're only forty-two-years-old. On top of that, your kids will fly the nest in a couple of years. A lot of people would be very jealous. Hell, I'm jealous."

"Yep," she said, "that's mostly true. And yet, I can't shake this feeling. I guess there's always that question of, what's the point? Why do we do all this, just so that we can die in the end?" She was somewhat of a spiritualist, but I never thought her to be a true believer in religion. Me, on the other hand, I've always been as irreligious as they come.

"The point," I responded, "is to live. We only get one go-round on this ride. Why not hop in? The antithesis of living is death. The antithesis of death is not simply living, it's living as much as you can while you're alive."

"I know," she replied glumly. "Easy to say."

"Look," I told her, trying a bit of reverse psychology. "I'm younger than you. I have almost everything I want in life, and yet I feel like I have almost nothing. And that drives me to desire more. I want to see and feel and touch and taste and hear and smell and learn and grow as much as possible. No one, not even Alex, is going to stop me from sampling all the fruits within my grasp if not my reach. At the same time, I'm not going to stop him."

At this she really did flinch. Some friend I was. That was really stupid.

"What are you saying, that you have an open marriage?"

I hesitated. "I'm sorry. I should not have used that metaphor. I meant to say I want to have every kind of experience, and not just sexual."

"Go on," she said dryly, not giving me a pass. "I need an answer."

Trying to brave it out, I ventured, "Yes, we have an open marriage. Of course, it's not just about sex; it's about excitement and exploration; it's about engaging the mind and body; it's about `seize the day', and living life to the fullest, and maintaining the batteries, not just recharging them. Yet, in spite of the openness, or maybe because of it, I still feel needed and protected. We have tremendous trust and respect for one another, and we know we'll always be together. I'm sorry, Chrissy. I should have kept my mouth shut. You will not be charged for this subpar consultation."

"No, it's okay," she said, probably not registering my last remark. "I think it's good for me to know how other people manage stuff like this and still maintain a happy relationship."

"Well," I told her, "we have our moments, but mostly I am very happy. I believe he is, too." She and I grew silent for a time.

Then, she blurted out, "What do you mean, I `have a great body?' Are you joking?" She was incredulous yet smiling. "I'm way too big. You're the one with the perfect body. I wish my behind were that small!"

"Ha! Yeah well, I'll be right behind you, pun intended, in a couple years." Corny as that was, we both broke out into guffaws. It was a good change of pace.

"I told you before," she continued, "if I were a man, I'd just want to squeeze those tatas."

I harkened back to her comment years prior. "Are you kidding," I half-shrieked. "You don't have to be a man to want to squeeze these!" I grabbed my tits with both hands and squeezed firmly several times. This brought the house down with laughter from both of us.

"What are they, double-D," she asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "I'm 36-DD." I poured us both some wine.

"Well, I think they're awesome."

I felt flattered. How long had she been looking? Since our youth? "Well," I said with as much coy as I could muster, "maybe it's time to find out just how awesome." She laughed, but not very enthusiastically. I think she could tell I was serious, which probably made her shy away.

"Well, that's a very tempting..." she started to backtrack, but I cut her off.

"It's not an offer," I said, with far less coy. I didn't know what made me so forward. The wine was no excuse after only two glasses... Well, maybe. Maybe I was trying to compensate for the faux pas I`d just committed. Finally, I put my finger on it. I was giving her what she had asked for. Psychology 101: People will tell you, in one form of communication or another, what they want. And when they say they're only joking, they are not.

"Give me your hand." I reached out for her. She tried to chuckle it away. I was grinning, but unblinking. I gestured with my hand for her to lean towards me.

She made an effort to deflect me by pouring more wine into the glasses I had just filled. When she finished, she would not look at me. After a pause, she finally met my gaze and asked, "What? Are you serious?"

I nodded my head with a curt, "Mhm."

"Peggy, come on. I was just kidding."

I said nothing, nor did I move.

After a moment longer, she said, "Wow, well, I wouldn't want to pass up my opportunity to seize the day!" The tension was broken, and we had a good laugh. She leaned over with her right hand and cupped my left breast. Then, she startled me by yelling, "Oh my God, it's just like I thought! They are perfect!" This caused another burst of laughter between us. "What the hell? How did you grow those things?" I noticed, however, that she did not take her hand away.

"I guess I've always been a big Eva Green fan," I said.

"Holy crap, I know. She's amazing," Chrissy gushed. She began to lift my breast and move it around a little. I officially became wet from that moment onward.

Then, once again losing all reason (or maybe not?), I stopped her. "Wait, something's not right," I told her. She looked puzzled, withdrawing her hand and sitting back in her chair. I unbuttoned my blouse and said, "You need to go inside to cop a good feel."

She stammered out, "No way! Oh my God, I can't... I can't believe you're doing this," in a half-laughing tone.

Ignoring this comment, I opened up my blouse and pulled my sports bra out from the bottom. My boobs flopped out of their confinement. I grabbed her gently yet firmly by the wrist, pulling her hand back onto me.

I sighed. "That's much better." To my surprise, she didn't pull back, but resumed hefting, as if to gauge the weight. My nipples grew rock hard. I observed that, though she squeezed and massaged me lightly, she kept all her fingers together. Disappointing.

"They're amazing," she cooed. "`Subpar', my ass."

Very clever, I thought with admiration.

She leaned almost imperceptibly closer, as if trying to study me, utterly fascinated. "They're almost exactly like hers," she said, referring back to Ms. Green. I didn't tell Chris that I saw quite a lot of Eva's facial beauty in her own, not wanting a further tangent in that direction.

"I've never seen another woman before. Well, not in real life," she said.

I chose my words for effect. "So, this is the first time you've touched another woman's breast?"

"Yes. You're not shocked or embarrassed, are you?"

I shook my head. "No, not at all."

"I mean, I know you're... you're bisexual," she stumbled.

"I am," I said casually.

Then she asked me something that truly did shock me. Well, she more implied than asked. She mumbled hesitantly, "Would you... mind if I..." It took me a couple of seconds to realize that she was asking if she could suckle. I was caught off guard, dumbfounded, and I hesitated for just a moment.

Sensing my confusion, she said, "I don't want you to think I'm weird, or anything."

"Oh, of course not," I assured her. Then I flashed a warm smile, recovering a semblance of witticism. "Look, honey, it's not only okay; it's required." She smiled back and chuckled.

"I've just always wondered what it was like," she said sheepishly. "You're going to think I'm nuts."

"Not true. We're already sitting in the roller coaster, and our car is next in line," I said, pouring on the charm while hoping I was not being too obvious. "Enjoy the ride."

I pulled gently on the back of her head, trying to foster non-verbal communication, i.e. "shut up and suck", and she did not resist. Just when she got close, I said, "Hang on a sec." This was pure calculation. I was trying to normalize an event which had already become, in Chrissy's world at any rate, very abnormal. I loosened the remainder of my blouse out from where it was tucked in my jeans. I was basically half-naked, with my bra riding up over my breasts, and in a very turned on state. No, more than that; I was already flushed crimson with anticipation.

I again gave her a tug on the back of her head. Then, her lips were on me, and nothing else mattered. She kissed my breast softly, tenderly, with a sense of wonder. Unfortunately, she deliberately avoided my nipple, as if kissing it would have been too much deviation from the norm. I hoped she would soon work up the courage. It were as if she didn't want that hot spot to burn her, but at the same time wanted desperately to be burned.

She moved in a semicircle, even avoiding my areola. Fucking hell! This was getting difficult. I reached for my glass, still holding my other hand against the back of her head, and took a large gulp of wine. It was an effort to seem nonchalant. The swallowing motion loosened my throat muscles, I hoped, so that I wouldn't choke on my next words. "Chris," I said softly, "that's very nice, but stop beating around the bush." A slight whimper of indecision was her only reply, and I sensed she might pull away. I couldn't let that happen, not now. I arched my back and guided her lips onto my nipple. Thankfully, she opened her mouth and began to suckle.

God damn. The feeling was unbelievable. I shuddered. It was difficult to maintain self-control. I had jitters again, and I cursed my physiology for threatening to derail the situation. I didn't want her to get scared and run away. I really don't know how I regained any appearance of composure, but I guess I managed.

Supporting her in my lap, I cradled her head in my arms, softly stroking her lovely dark brown hair. I was totally unable to control my goosebumps. After a couple minutes of this, and in the hopes once again of diffusing any tension, I said, "That feels great, sweetie, but my other boob is lonely, too." We both had a good chuckle at this, and she switched to my right beast.

As she did so, I wanted to reach under her and touch her tits in return, but I was too afraid. I placated myself with rubbing her shoulders lightly. This had the bonus of keeping my arms out of the way and giving her full access. She repeated her slow, tender ministrations on my right breast, kissing me all over, but did not delay for long. This time, she was more aggressive, pressing her face a little deeper into my breast, trying to get more of me into her mouth. I reached again for my wine, but had a wicked thought instead. I dipped a finger into the liquid and touched it to my skin just above her mouth, into which the liquid flowed.

Her reaction was somewhat cryptic, sounding like both a warning and an invitation. "Now-now, you're being very naughty." It was sort of a mixed signal, especially because her tone and inflection were difficult to read. The wine clearly had at least a modicum of effect on her speech. Would she bring this wonderful experience to an end if I took it a step further? Or was she challenging me to convince her to continue? Was she saying that this was just a beginning to see where it leads? Or was it just her way of trying not to let this get out of hand? My thoughts scattered in every direction. I wanted desperately to believe I was on the verge of making love to this incredibly sensual woman. I wasn't sure what to do. Of course, I didn't want to spoil our friendship. It would have crushed me to lose someone who was just at that moment becoming more and more dear to me. But there was no way I could take this much longer. I decided to throw caution to the wind.

When what I thought might be an appropriate moment arose, I pulled her head away from my breast and kissed her softly on the lips. I hoped with all my heart that it was not the wrong thing to do.

It was. The spell was broken. She pulled back quickly, frowning and becoming exceedingly apologetic, saying, "Megs, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to lead you on. I'm really sorry. I never meant for you to think..." She kept repeating these refrains.

"It's okay, Chrissy, really. It was my idea." I couldn't think quickly enough. I tried pleading. "Don't say that. Please don't be upset. It's all my fault, really it is. I shouldn't have led you on. I should have..." I trailed off, not knowing what else to say. "I mean, I wanted you to keep going, but I didn't... I just didn't want you to stop. That was selfish of me." I was stammering. I pulled my bra back down and began buttoning my blouse.

"Stop that," she blurted out. "It was selfish of me to do that knowing I didn't want to go any further! What was I thinking?"

That felt like a slap in the face. I tried to change tack, and said, "Look, let's just forget about it, okay?"

She agreed, silently nodding her head. We were both a bit shaken, I think. It was pretty awkward. She went over to the sink and started doing the dishes. Without looking back over her shoulder, she said, "I'm really sorry, Meg. I wanted to do it too, and I'm sure I'm at fault, not you. I didn't mean to make you think I wanted something more. I didn't... I don't ever want to hurt you. You mean so much more to me than you even know." There was a catch in her voice, and my heart ached for her.

But at the same time, I was disconcerted. Her words were very much at odds with her body language. I walked up to her and touched her gently on the shoulder, trying to allay her despondency. "Look," I said, "it's nothing. You don't ever have to be scared, and you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me. You're my best friend too, you know. I love you very much. I think I love you more than I even realized." She noticeably tensed up at these words, stiffening her back and shoulders. I was becoming very frustrated.

I said, "What? Was that wrong, too?" I immediately felt guilty about the anger and accusation in my voice.

She turned around quickly, and shouted, "Would you stop! Don't you see how confused I am right now? Can't you understand this is tearing me up inside?"

I was stunned. "What do you mean," I asked. Then, growing tired of dancing around the subject, I shouted back, "What are you afraid of? You think it's wrong to love another woman?"

"No!"

I shouted her down. "You think it's wrong to have sex with another woman? You think people will find out and you'll be judged and then you'll be afraid to show your face in public because they'll call you a lesbian?"

"No, that's not it! I have two children and my first responsibility has to be with them! They'll be the ones hurt if anyone finds out. I can't just live as if I'm the only one who matters. And you have a husband, for Christ's sake!"

"Oh, what bullshit excuses! And that last one is a total cop-out knowing what I just told you."

She thought about this for a moment. "You're right, that last part was a cop-out, but not the others."

This did not abate my fury. I grabbed her head with both hands and pulled her in for a hard kiss on the mouth, not letting go. This threw her off balance, and I held her there for two or three seconds before she was able to pull away.

"There," I said angrily, "you have now kissed a woman! Not a friend's kiss, but an I-want-to-fuck-you kiss! So, teach your kids that it's okay to kiss and fuck a member of the same sex. Arm them against bigotry and stupidity with truth and understanding, and then live your life as you see fit, not as the rest of the narrow-minded world wants you to live it. And your children will thank you for it when all is said and done."

We were both panting, trying to take in the turn of events. "I'm so mad at you right now," she said. It was obvious we both wanted to say more, but were terrified of making things worse. "I just don't think I..." She trailed off.

I turned away, feigning vanity to finish buttoning my blouse. Mostly, I was just unsure what to do or say. "It's fine. Forget about it, Chris. It's not a big deal," I lied.

I brought our plates from the dinner table to the sink. I had just turned around to go back for more when suddenly I felt her hands on my shoulders spinning me around. Then she pushed me away, towards the nearby wall, I think probably harder than she meant to, and stood back, staring at me. She had a very strange look in her eyes, one I had never seen before. She was also kind of hovering and pacing. It came to me that this was a pivotal moment. I stared back.

Then, she walked over to where I was standing, hesitated for a moment, and said, "Don't you..." It was a question, one I did not fully understand, and one she never finished. Then, she leaned down for a very brief kiss. I could have died at the tenderness of her lips, and at the fact she initiated it.

She had already pulled back before I could react. She paused for a few seconds. Then, much more slowly, she leaned down, stopping her mouth a fraction of an inch from mine. We were inhaling each other's breath. She was about two-inches taller than me, so she was bending over slightly. Her eyes went from my lips to my eyes and back.

Then, it happened. She kissed me. Really kissed me. A lasting, longing, tender, gentle, forceful, soft, hard, wet kiss that took my breath away. Every second I was dying, and every second I was being reborn. We embraced, arm-in-arm. I simultaneously felt as if I were melting to the floor, and that the earth could have crumbled to bits and still I would not move. I almost couldn't bear, and yet I could no longer do without, the touch of her loving lips, the sweet smell of her hair, the radiant heat of her body. I became aware of her breasts pressed against mine and I arched my back to meet them, pulling her closer towards me. Her tongue was beginning to probe my mouth. I met it eagerly with my own, hungrily, greedily trying to draw it further into me, while taking in the first, tentative taste of her wet mouth.

The kiss became more frantic. We were tossing our heads from side-to-side, each trying to gain access to the other's intimate sensuality, trying to show how much we wanted to probe and be probed, deeper and deeper. The intense heat of our bodies combined with our passions had caused us to begin sweating.

She broke our kiss and started pulling up my blouse again, this time ripping apart the buttons. She quickly flipped up my bra, pulling both items of clothing over my head and arms. Her hands were on my breasts again, squeezing me hard, and she leaned down to suck on my left breast. This time, it was no tender suckle. I think half my tit was in her mouth, and still she wanted more.

Then, it was my turn. She had on a polo shirt and I pulled it up over her head, scrambling to do it as quickly as possible in order to get my mouth on her enormous orbs. She had to be a triple-D cup or bigger. I reached behind her and literally ripped apart her bra, pulling it off her arms and throwing it aside. Her tits were now exposed, and I died again and again. They were more fantastic than I had even imagined. She had very large, pale areolas, and the softest, sweetest looking nipples I had ever seen. My mouth found her right breast and I inhaled it, tasting her skin and sweat, lapping it up as quickly as I could. I had to fuck this woman. I had to fuck her now or I would scream bloody murder.

With my back still to the wall, I turned around with her in my arms. As soon as I did this, she became less frantic, instantly trying to slow things down. I hoped this would not be another disappointing moment. "Megs..." she implored. "Megs, I'm not sure about this. I don't know what to do, and I..."

In what was probably another brain-fart moment, I said, "You have to trust me, now. You have to trust in my love and friendship to know everything will be alright."

"I trust you," she said in earnest. I teetered on the edge of swooning. "But I don't trust myself. You don't know what I'm capable of."

Ignoring this last, I walked gingerly backwards towards her bedroom door, pulling her by the waist along with me. Reluctantly, she followed. As we entered, I turned on the ceiling fan. Next, I turned on the soft, warm lamp on her nightstand. "I'm going to need both of these on," I said. She smiled, though it was half-hearted.

It dawned on me that I had to let Alex know what was going on. I would be home very late, if at all. I sent him a quick text. Not wanting any further delays, I pulled Chris over to her king-size bed. I unbuckled her belt, then undid the top button of her slacks. We were no longer urgent. In fact, we were barely touching. I looked up into her eyes, trying to be careful not to embarrass her, but also not wanting to give her a chance to escape. She was not looking at me, yet she had ended her protests, for now. Even as I lowered her zipper, she said nothing. Even as I lowered her pants, she said nothing. Even as I pulled down the covers to make our nest, lay her down on the bed mostly naked, stepped out of my jeans, and climbed into bed next to her, she said nothing.

I kept my panties on, though, in a display of solidarity. What I now hoped would be one of the most erotic nights of our lives was about to begin... or at least, continue. "Megs," she said, finally breaking her silence, "I don't know if I can do this." I waited patiently for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few seconds, to let her speak her mind. "I'm not sure I can go any further."

Suddenly, I understood. "You're afraid," I soothed. "You don't know if you can reciprocate." She quickly nodded her head. "Christina," I said softly, trying to assuage her fears, "I am going to make love to you now. I want this as much as I've wanted anything in my entire life. I am going to pleasure you, and hopefully make you cum thirty or forty times." At this we laughed. "After that," I continued, "you do not have to do anything in return. I hereby relieve you of the responsibility of any form of reciprocation, including attending to my pleasure. Do you understand? Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

She again nodded quickly, an audible sigh escaping her lips. Still, she tried to stall, saying, "But it's not fair to..."

"Good," I interrupted. "I'm glad that's out of the way. Now, if you don't mind, I am going to eat your fucking pussy until you cum all over my face, and until you can't cum anymore." She could only manage to close her mouth, nothing more.

In my mind, the rules of engagement were now settled, and there was no going back. I moved on top of her and planted a hard, deep, wet kiss on her mouth, and the fires were once again ignited. After about three or four seconds, she kissed me back, offering her tongue, and opening her mouth wider than she had done up until that point. We kissed for several minutes more. She massaged my breasts, and I obligingly moved them onto her mouth. This was a favorite position of mine, along with being on top in a sixty-nine. It was one of control and authority. It said to the bottom subject, "You are trapped. Service me."

After plenty of this, and a bit more kissing, I broke off and headed for her neck and ears. She had a gorgeous neck line, with strong, almost masculine muscles. I probed all around, mostly with my lips, softly breathing into her skin, but also occasionally tasting her flesh with my tongue. Each lick elicited a reaction of some kind. She began to moan. At this, I moved slowly down to her breasts, taking the time to do what she had done for me, kissing all around in circle after circle, again and again. What she had said years ago was true; her tits were huge but a bit saggy. As if I cared? I've always loved big boobs, and this was a feast on which I could dine for days.

Giving her all the attention I thought she could stand in preparation for my journey south, I then stopped to admire my handiwork. Her skin was glistening with my saliva, and her nipples, though they did not protrude very much, were fully erect.

Next, I kissed all around her stomach, tickling and teasing her as much as possible. She had a pooch belly, and wonderful love handles. This was a tremendous turn-on. I never liked skinny women with hardly any flesh. Give me meat and potatoes. Oh, and au jus sauce... the wetter, the better.

She giggled at the tickling, and tried to push my face away from the most sensitive spots. I brushed her hands aside, and grabbed both of her wrists and held them together in one of my hands. Of course, she could have easily gotten free, but she seemed to be growing somewhat pliable, almost docile, like her sister, Emily, had been with me. This prospect thrilled me anew. Oh, the possibilities, here! To show my pleasure, I pulled both of her hands towards my face, separated her index fingers, and placed them in my mouth, licking them in a lewd manner. Then I pushed those same fingers into her mouth, along with one of my own. She sucked hard on them, showing how turned on she was, trying to lick off all of my saliva. I felt her hips gyrating beneath me.

At that point, I think she was as ready as she would ever be. I had been on top of her, straddling her body while her legs were together. It was time to pry dem bitches open. I lifted myself up enough to pull off my panties. I showed them to her, telling her what to do by example. Surprisingly, she followed my lead, although she closed her legs again afterward.

"No," I said firmly, "those need to stay open until I'm done." Still, she hesitated. "I'm going to close my eyes and count to three, by which time I'd better be able to play `Operation' on you without touching the sides." We both laughed. Then, I closed my eyes.

"One..." I felt her legs slowly spread below me. Upon opening my eyes, I looked directly into those gorgeous blue eyes of hers. Then, my gaze wandered slowly down, coming to rest on what was an incredibly shocking sight; the softest, most delicate, blonde pubic hair I had ever seen.

"What the... You're a blonde?" I was stunned. "Since when?"

She was already laughing. "Since birth."

"Wow, that's a hell of a surprise." She had been fooling everyone for years. "But, why?"

"Why not? I was sick of being blonde by the time I was fourteen, before you even met Emily," she confessed. "Besides, I like this color better with my eyes. You're not the only Eva Green fan, you know."

I got the feeling I had underestimated Chris's sagacity for a long time. I caught myself checking out her eyebrows. "Sorry, it's none of my business, anyway," I said, already anxious to get back on track.

"It's okay." Her grin was more wolf than sheep.

So, in somewhat of a new light, I returned my gaze to the amazing blonde-haired vagina before me. Everything was framed on both sides by her milky-white thighs, and underneath by her shapely, ample bottom. This was like a master work of art, waiting to be both observed and devoured simultaneously. Rubens, eat your heart out.

After taking a moment to contemplate my approach vector, I decided that I wanted her to explode on impact. I leaned down, stopping only an inch or so from her sex. I breathed on her naturally for a minute or so, allowing her to fully relax, yet not allowing the excitement to fully diminish. Then, I moved away to explore her upper thighs. Mostly, I kissed around with my lips and nibbled with my teeth, giving her the occasional flick of my tongue. I gently nestled my face into the groove between her left thigh and pelvis, pulling her leg to a more closed position around my head. I stayed there for several minutes, barely moving, making tiny, rotating motions with my head, pushing her skin slowly in miniature circles around her frame. I wanted our body heat accumulate. Then, I did the same on her right side. She was beginning to squirm again. I was making her extremely hot, and we both knew it. We were also sweating more profusely, now, as the temperature rose with the tension, in spite of the fan.

Next, I pulled her knees upward until she was fully exposed and ready to be sucked. Still, I delayed, kissing all around the backs of her thighs, coming close enough to her pussy so that she could feel my breath nearby, but never touching it directly with any part of my skin. I licked laterally along the crevice of her ass where each cheek met each leg. She was now moaning softly, and began to whisper, "Megs, please, please let me cum." I knew it was becoming intolerable for her. Perfect. I had her at my mercy.

I allowed her knees to fall gently onto my shoulders. My face was at the center of her gravity, only an inch away. With an arm wrapped around each leg, I rested my hands on her tummy. I was now in command and control of this incredible woman, this hot fucking bitch. I again used my breathing technique to torture her. I was so close that I could see her pubic hair moving back and forth with each breath. I was so damn glad I had insisted on the light.

When my tongue finally touched her sex, it was only on the periphery, at a small crack between her left pussy lip and thigh. I touched, but did not move. She tried to move herself against me, but I pressed my hands firmly on her stomach. I also maneuvered my tongue in concert with her body, making sure it stayed in one spot against her flesh.

"Oh God, Meg. Please stop," she begged. She had rested both her hands on the top of my head, obviously trying to move things along.

"Very well, I'll stop." I retracted my tongue.

"No, dammit! Stop teasing me!"

After more deliberate torture, I lightly placed my tongue once again at the bottom edge of her vagina, and slowly, ever so slowly, and softly, graduating to more firmly, dragged it upwards, pulling along her juices and aroma, letting my saliva coat each millimeter it touched. When I got to about half way up her vagina, she quickly pressed down with both hands and pushed my face into her crotch, thrusting her pelvis up simultaneously, convulsing in a strong orgasm.

Her body spasmed and shivered, and she cried out, "Oh, God! Oh, fu... uh..." She growled a long, low, guttural noise from deep in her throat. As the force of the orgasm made its waves over and through her body, I kept my face planted firmly on her pussy, trying to move as little as possible. I could feel her liquid overwhelm my face, overwhelm my senses. I had number one under my belt, and it was freaking awesome.

After a few moments had passed, she began to settle back down. Her breathing slowed, though her pussy lips quivered for some time afterwards. As I pulled back to survey my handiwork, she touched my face gently and said, "Megs, that was incredible."

"Shhhhh..." I cooed softly. "Hush, baby, hush. Hush, now. Relax a bit, so you can get ready for more."

"Twenty-nine more?" I was glad for the comic relief, and laughed warmly with her.

"Ha-ha, yes," I said, glad she seemed at ease. Our bond began to cement.

The sheet below her ass was soaked with cum and sweat, and it was spreading. I was so proud, that I had to share this lovely tidbit of information with her. "Doesn't surprise me. That was a really strong one," she replied.

"Good," I affirmed.

I began again by softly blowing cool air on and around her pussy. After all, you have to cool things off in order for them to get hot again. I did this for a long time, maybe twenty minutes or so. She thanked me several times for taking my time, and for being such a patient lover.

At last, I turned my cool breath to hot, breathing from the back of my throat instead of through pursed lips.

A moan escaped her mouth. Yet, once again she became apologetic. "Megs, you don't have to..."

"Chrissy..."

"I just want you to know..."

"Christina." I interrupted. In a tone flushed with deep sensuality, I said, "Listen to me, and listen well. Stop talking to me so I can... eat... your... hot... wet... fucking... cunt."

After a moment, she said, "I usually don't like that word." Had I pushed the envelope too far? "But I like the way you just said it."

I then knew that our master-slave relationship had begun.

Chapter 2

"Oh my God," she yelled, "you've slept with both sisters?"

I retorted, "No, I haven't slept with you, yet. But I have fucked both sisters."

Another laughing, head-shaking "Oh my God," was all she could manage.

We lay on our backs, basking, as it were, in the afterglow. She had cum three times, the second one being the most powerful, and I figured she was done for the night. When she once again started to express guilt over not pleasuring me, I said, "Look, let's take care of this right now. I'm so horny it won't take me long at all."

"That's really unfair to you," she said.

"Honey," I began, "haven't you figured it out yet? Tonight, I am more than willing to forego my desire. Of course, I would love to have you go down on me, but this is a special night. It's your night, and I have made it my responsibility to help you celebrate."

An acquiescent, "Okay," was her only reply.

I was lying to her left, and said, "Here, give me your hand." She lifted her left hand, offering it freely, and I placed my right hand above hers. I guided it to my pussy, and then spread my legs. She was generous, never flinching or allowing a hint of disdain, which she may or may not have felt. I was drenched. I had a momentary pang of guilt, given her reluctance, but it passed. I knew I would cum quickly.

I moved her first two fingers so they were touching my clit, and began to manipulate them in small circles. I rubbed my fingers over and between hers. She then surprised me somewhat by saying, "I can't believe it. My hand is touching another woman's vagina in a sexual manner."

"That's right. Just don't stop now. I'm already close," I breathed out heavily.

"I won't, baby. I want you to cum."

The word "baby" unleashed the flood. It wasn't a great orgasm, and I had embellished it a bit for Chris's benefit, but it was strong enough. Shit, what a relief. I licked her fingers clean.

We cuddled and snuggled for a long time after that. She was very gentle and tender, softly running her fingers over my skin, through my long brown hair. We had covered up with the top sheet, and she turned off the light. It was probably around midnight when I fell asleep. A gentle rain had begun to pitter-patter on the roof, affecting me, along with the sex, like melatonin, and sweet chamomile tea.

Chapter 3

Some hours later, a distant sound of thunder roused me from some distant, utopian dream in which I was dancing, or maybe chasing butterflies. I lay on my left side, trying desperately to remain in whatever strange world I frolicked. But soon I became aware of a gentle, rhythmic motion in the bed.

What was going on? Oh, I thought! She was masturbating. What a vixen. I yawned a deep, waking, yawn, stretching as I did so. "Mmmm," I purred with encouragement. "Is it time to go again already?"

Suddenly, Chris pushed me over onto my stomach and lifted her leg over my backside. She had mounted me, and was straddling my ass. I was stunned and thrilled at the same time. She was in full beast mode. Her moisture quickly coated all of my backside, and I flushed with excitement. She was rubbing herself on top of me.

"Oh yes, baby," I said, quickly becoming more awake as well as turned on. "Fuck me."

A deep moan escaped her mouth. "Ugh..."

"Yes, baby," I encouraged again. "I want you to cum on my ass." At this, she sort of lost her balance and tumbled forward onto her hands.

I turned up the heat. "Chris, I want you to fuck me in the ass."

"Oh, God," she shouted desperately. "Oh, fuck yes!" She was now grinding her pussy onto me.

"I want to feel your cock deep in my asshole. I want you to fuck my ass hard and deep, baby, deep and hard. I wanna feel your hot cum squirting all the way inside me." I was a lioness, roaring back over her shoulder at a feral lion.

"Oh, shit," she yelled. "Oh, fucking shit!" The smell of sweat and cum flooded my nostrils. She put her hands on the tops of my shoulders, using them as leverage to pull forward, then to push back. She ground her pussy down onto my ass with all her weight. I reached back with both hands and scratched her thighs with my fingernails. Then she pried her hands under my armpits. I quickly spread my arms to accommodate her. She grabbed both of my tits, mashing them hard in her hands, pinching my nipples while continuing to fuck me. I resumed talking dirty.

"Fuck me in the ass, Chris! Squeeze my fucking tits!" She was pounding me into the bed. There was a loud skin-slapping sound every time her crotch and pelvis smacked against my cheeks. It was utterly fantastic.

"Dat's it, bae. Put dat Big D all the way up in dat ass. Nut ma ass." Screaming and shaking violently, she had her fourth of the night, later telling me that it was, without question, the best, most intense orgasm she'd ever had in her entire life. I had invented (or maybe plagiarized) The Blackgasm.

After she rolled off me and onto her back, I felt like a rag doll that had been humped by a 160lb bulldog – and then sprayed with hot cum. "Well, that was unexpected," I chortled and laughed at the same time, turning onto my back as well. "Holy shit!"

Breathing heavily, she could only smile. Still, she found a way to communicate her appreciation, pulling my hand against her lips, holding it close. I kept it there for a long time, enjoying her breath on my skin.

Eventually, I heard a mild snoring sound. She was starting to doze off I couldn't let that happen, though. I needed to cum like crazy. Just then, a thought occurred to me, a very naughty thought. I rolled onto my left side, facing away from her. "Chrissy," I began.

"Hmm?"

I want you to do something for me," I said.

She roused from her near slumber. "Of course, Megs."

"Give me your right hand." She did so, turning onto her left side behind me. "Put your finger in my mouth." She again did as I asked, presenting her right index finger, and then moved her body closer to mine. I noticed her fingernails were short, perfect for what I had in mind. I meant to push her beyond the limits of her boundaries, now, deeper into darkness, where I often liked to roam. Removing her finger from my mouth, I said, "Chrissy, I want you to put your finger in my ass."

All I heard was an indecisive, "I..." There was a pause of several seconds as she thought about this. Yet, once again (and why did this keep happening?), I was pleasantly surprised. Instead of carrying out my request, she put her finger back in my mouth, and pushed it in deep, apparently trying to get it more and more wet. I obliged, willing my salivary glands to contract and squirt. From this point onward, her excitement was going to augment and accelerate my own.

As she pulled out her saliva-coated finger, my jitters returned, and stronger than ever. I was so thrilled at the prospect of her granting me this wish that a low moan escaped my throat. Without another word, she spread my cheeks, opening me up for penetration. I rotated my hips further to the left to give her better access.

Then, I felt the tip of her finger rubbing around my back door. She was incredibly gentle, taking her time, massaging my taut skin in preparation for impalement. She did not, however enter me, at least not yet. After rubbing all around my anus, she moved her finger up and down my ass crack. It were as if she were desensitizing me in preparation. Then she brought her hand back to my mouth.

I was thrilled. "Oh my God, Chris. Are you really doing this for me?" Without a reply, she entered my eager mouth again. This time she was way more forceful. Her finger immediately pushed in to the hilt, and then some. I gagged a little, but encouraged her by grabbing her hand and pressing it hard into my face, all the while sucking and licking. She fucked my mouth roughly with several strokes, then quickly headed for my ass. Moving up into a half-sitting position, she spread my ass cheeks with her left hand, with her right hand massaging my hole once again. This only lasted for about two or three seconds.

"Are you ready," she asked before continuing.

"Fuck yes."

She pressed the tip inside me. She was naturally intuitive about this new direction I led her. She began going in and out slowly, then more quickly, then slowly again, and only a fraction of an inch at first, and all with meaningful deliberation. It allowed for a fairly quick entry once I was primed.

When that moment arrived, I did not need to tell her. Her finger was all the way up my ass before I even knew it. I only cringed a little. The pain was not bad, and it almost immediately began to subside.

"Are you okay?" The concern in her voice was endearing, but I wasn't thinking about love anymore.

"Don't stop, baby. Fuck me. Fuck me in the ass." Deja vu.

She needed no further encouragement. Her finger went back and forth slowly twice, then began to move faster, and in a few seconds, was going quickly in and out. The pain had already turned to pleasure and excitement.

I couldn't bring myself to say aloud what I wanted her to do next. I was still afraid she might get turned off and dampen this highly erotic intimacy. Yet, there it was, the seminal moment. She withdrew from my ass and brought it up to my mouth again, lodging it deep inside.

"Oh, fuck," I yelled. The finger distorted my words. "Oh, fuck! Oh, holy fuck!"

Then a second finger was in my mouth, fucking me as fast and as deep. "Ugh..." I grunted in anticipation. She rubbed both fingers around my mouth, on both sides top-to-bottom, and under and around my tongue. This time, though, she plunged them hard and deep into my vagina, and began fucking with abandon. I was slick with juice, and it felt fantastic.

Finding a rhythm, her left arm moved under my head, which I lifted quickly to accommodate her. She reached around me to grab my right breast and squeezed it hard, pinching the nipple and pulling it out from my chest as far as it would go. Then, she twisted it. I yelped in pain. In the midst of that yelp, her two fingers left my pussy and sank deep into my ass. Oh, my fucking God! She timed that perfectly! I felt stupefied, like I was suddenly in the presence of a sex guru.

I grunted another loud, guttural, "Ugh," and arched my back to meet her thrust. She was so far up my ass that only her hand stopped the forward progress of her fingers. Then, she began to twist. I could feel the hard knuckle grinding against my anus as her fingers churned around inside me. This was probably the roughest sex of my life, and I was loving every second. She was a God damn animal.

After fucking me in the ass for several minutes, she returned to my mouth, once again instantly going balls-deep. I gagged, but quickly gave a loud grunt to encourage her. Her fingers were pungent, but not foul, I realized, even though she had been as far up my ass as possible given the length of her fingers. I was glad for this. The taste or smell of shit may have repulsed either one of us, even in our highly aroused state. Or maybe not.

She fucked my mouth several seconds longer, slapping her palm against my chin and lips. Then she returned to fucking my pussy. I began to cum, and cum hard. With her index and middle fingers inside my vagina, she slid her thumb into my ass. The thrusts of her hand were so powerful that she was pushing me towards the side of the bed, so she started a counterbalance. With every push of her right hand inside me, she pulled me back with her left.

I thought to myself, I'm being fucked in my ass and pussy by this hot fucking bitch. She's dominating me and using my body for her pleasure as much as mine. That was enough to send me flying over the edge.

I was weightless, high above some blindingly bright abyss. I was beyond cumming. Every fiber of my mind and body was electricity.

At first, I didn't know where the high-pitched sound was coming from, as I had never heard my own voice during such a state of intensity, but soon realized beyond any doubt that I was screaming. I could only limit the sound by clenching my teeth and turning it into a hissing wail. When I reached the limit of my lungs, I inhaled and began again. Saliva spat and poured uncontrollably from my mouth onto the pillow.

As I reached my peak, her pace slowed, and then she withdrew, again at the perfect moment. I was a mewling mess. "Shh, baby. Shh, now honey. I've got you. I've got you, now," repeating this over and over. My heart was pounding. I was covered with sweat, saliva, cum, and probably urine, too. I couldn't tell. She kissed the right side of my face softly, gently licking at the wet beads that had pooled.

After a few minutes, she whispered something in my ear. "Megs, where did my fingers just come from?"

"Huh? Oh, my pussy and ass," I somehow replied.

"Yes, that's right. They came from deep in your pussy and ass." I couldn't guess where she was taking us, but I grasped one thing for sure: this was not yet over.

"Where is my thumb now, baby," she asked.

"At the entrance to my ass."

She continued cooing. "Mhm. Where is it going next, baby?"

I was a little slow, but I eventually figured it out. "It's going in my mouth."

"That's right, Meg. My thumb is coming out of your ass, and going into your mouth." Jesus fucking Christ. She was girding up to go again.

"Chris," I said, "I want you to take your thumb out of my hot ass, and put it right into my fucking mouth."

"Yesss," she hissed passionately. Was this the same woman I knew from just a few hours ago? No, not really.

As her thumb entered my mouth, I licked and sucked it. With her left arm still around and under my head, she drew me close, still squeezing and caressing my breasts. I could feel her tits against my back.

After a minute or two, she removed thumb from my mouth. "Meg, where are my fingers going now?"

This worried me a bit. I wasn't sure I could can take it. I was sore in both locations. "Um, in my ass?"

"No, Meg," she corrected. "Tell me where my fingers are going."

I was puzzled. "In my hot, wet, cunt?"

"No, baby," she again corrected, "they're going into my fucking ass."

"Oh, my God. Oh, my fucking God..." I was stunned, thrilled, physically exhausted and emotionally drained all at the same time. My mouth wanted to say something, but I was too overwhelmed for anything other than, "Oh, my fucking God... Oh, my fucking God..." I repeated this softly to myself, almost under my breath.

"Megs, where are my fingers now?"

"Your ass." I was very near speechless.

"Yesss," she hissed again. "They're in my ass, and I'm moving them in and out. I'm fucking my own ass, Meg." She grunted once, then twice to prove her point. "I'm fucking myself in the ass with two of my own fingers. These are the same fingers that just came out of your ass, your mouth, and your cunt." At the word "cunt," she spasmed against me. "In fact, Margaret, you are going to fuck me with your cock. You are going to pound my ass deep and hard, hard and deep, and you are going to shoot your hot load of cum all the way inside me."

I could say no more. I could only shudder and whimper.

"Megs, where is my finger going now?" She said in a hoarse whisper.

No response from me. None was possible. My jaw was slack.

"Megs, my finger is going back in your ass." I could at least register that "fingers" had turned to "finger," for which I was grateful.

"My finger is in your ass now, Megs. Do you want to know where it's going next?" I was silly putty in her hands. I could not even so much as move my eyes, which had closed anyway. "I'll tell you, baby. I'm going to take my finger out of your ass, and put it in my mouth." Oh, God. Oh, God.

"Mmm," she moaned. "Margaret, I'm licking and sucking on the finger that just came out of your asshole. It's now going deep inside my mouth." It was too much for me to comprehend. Way too much. I had to shut down. The implications of her words would have destroyed everything I knew, everything I was. The sweet, kind, generous, loving Christina and the monster I seemed to have created split in two. They were moving away from each other at the speed of light, and I was party and witness to the disunion of their souls.

"I'm going to fuck you again, my dear Megs. I'm going to fuck your ass, your mouth, and your cunt until I cum inside you. Get ready for it, you fucking slut." I wondered, quite vaguely mind you, at how someone, this strange new person, had taken control of my mind and body. She opened my mouth and penetrated me for what seemed like the hundredth time. Still, I could not move. I was literally paralyzed. I already assumed I would need therapy. The last thing I remember is that, at some point, she had been fucking what could have been one of a thousand holes in my body. When I heard her cum for the fifth time, I passed out.

Chapter 4

I stayed in bed for two days. Her bed, that is. She called Alex to let him know where I was, and without explaining, said I would need next week off from work. He took care of everything, only asking if I were okay and if I needed anything. Thank fucking Christ. The hospital I worked at would be shorthanded, but they'd get by.

When I awoke Sunday afternoon, the Sunday after our first night together, Chris brought me cool water and chicken noodle soup. It was homemade. After drinking some of the water, and a few tentative sips, I devoured the soup and asked for another bowl. Later, I got up to shower, then went right back to bed. She let me stay there all the next day as well, bringing me lots of fluids, more soup, some bananas and other fruits, and ice cream. I got up to use the bathroom every few hours, watched a little mindless television, but nothing else.

She kept everything quiet, and came to lay down with me several times. We kissed softly and tenderly, but it was difficult to meet her eyes. I was afraid of what – no, who – I would see there.

When she later told me she took the week off to be with me, the first stirrings of emotion since Saturday night returned. "Really," I asked, my eyes suddenly puffy and close to tears.

"Really." She smiled warmly. This time, I thought, it did reach the corners of her mouth.

Chapter 5

Instead of staying the whole week with Chris, I decided to go home that Thursday morning. My husband and daughter needed me, I was sure, and I was feeling guilty for being gone so long already. I would have told Alex everything, but he was his usual wonderful self. "No need to explain, babe, unless you want to." What a relief. Never a hint of jealousy.

Anyway, I wasn't sure I wanted to stay at Chris's house too long. If I were going to seek therapy, I wanted some time for processing first, and I needed some space to begin that process. It were as if I were a different person, even after I got home. The recent past was becoming surreal in my head. There was something I could not quite put my finger on. Sometimes, I felt shaken to the core. It was more than a bit unpleasant. Alex's concern showed in his manner and voice. Thankfully he didn't push me too hard.

Several months passed. Chrissy and I saw each other occasionally, usually just going out to eat. Sometimes we made love, always oral-vaginal. She had quickly flung aside all remaining hang-ups about lesbian sex. She was now a full-blown rug muncher, and a damn good one, too. But there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between us to avoid anal contact. I never quite understood why. It felt only like something wasn't right about it anymore.

She may have picked up on my trepidation, and because I noticed she behaved differently, too. Was it my imagination? I had a conflicted desire to be closer to her, even though I was somehow uneasy when in her presence. I wanted... needed to understand. What the hell happened in that one, long night? I felt just plain weird.

Chapter 6

Winter and the holiday season soon fell upon us. Alex had been involved in several affairs, including a three-some with another couple. Unlike me, he wanted to go over every detail, telling me about sucking cock for the first time, the odd taste of sperm, and about his first anal sex (with a man), both giving and receiving. A far away voice, sotto voce, said something inaudible in my mind as he recounted this last. What was it? Someone walked over my grave.

Anyway, `twas the season. Sweet silver bells. Joy to the world. Star with royal beauty, bright. Baby, it's cold outside. Do you hear what I hear? All is calm, all is bright.

All, in fact, was not calm. Certainly not in the nether regions of my psyche. A sexual time bomb inside my brain had, for reasons I was still trying to latch onto, struck two-minutes to midnight. I tended to listen to what those little voices tried to tell me, even with all my neuroses. Unless, that is, they said something stupid, like, "Go take a shit on the salad bar at Wendy's!" Thanks, George. Your comedy is always with me.

So, I did a lot of soul searching, looking for answers. Vague perceptions of my first night with Chris kept gnawing at me from afar. I was angry at her, I now realized, but why? What had she done? Nothing I hadn't asked her to do, right? Was I overthinking this? Dammit. I had post-traumatic stress disorder, of that much I was convinced.

In an effort to re-engage the apparent object of my dismay, I told Chris I wanted to spend a few days with her around the New Year's Holiday. She was overjoyed. "Yay-yay-yay," she exclaimed, jumping up and down while clapping her hands. New Year's Day was on a Monday. I took that following week off, and with Alex's blessing, arranged to be away from home. Whatever physical and mental exercise was headed my way, I wanted enough time to do it as well as time to recover from it.

Two days before Christmas, and just six days before I was due to begin my vacation, I had an epiphany. I was not just angry. My anger was dually reinforced by fear and shame. My identity was in peril. And Chris was the one who put it in jeopardy. This insight led me to a resolution. I knew how to remedy the problem.

I ended my friendship with Christina. Of course, I didn't tell her that. I didn't tell her that I declared her my enemy. No. She would never see this coming. I was going to rape her. Vaginally. Orally. Anally. I would turn her into the submissive slut she had tried to make me.

That's right, I remembered suddenly! That was the word she had used. Slut.

I went to a local sex store with my new Christmas shopping list. Two pairs handcuffs. Check. One pair leg shackles. Check. One set heavy duty restraints. Check. One leather bull whip. Check. One O-ring mouth gag. Check. One ultra-power vibrating wand. Check. One strap-on harness with large dildo, white. Check. One very large dildo, black. Check. No anal lube. Checkmate.

Chapter 7

Our first night of vacation love making was standard fare. The Bitch achieved multiple orgasms. I faked two of my own. She tried giving my asshole a tentative lick, but I made the excuse that I didn't feel well "down there." I was going to make sure she would not want to go near another back door for a long, long time.

We ate breakfast the next morning, also standard fare; juice, coffee, toast, eggs, blah-blah-blah. We went for a refreshing walk in the woods, embracing the chill air of rural Chicago. She owned ten acres just outside of town. The nearest neighbor was about 500-yards away. Perfect. Not a creature was stirring.

The walk actually felt good. If I decided not to carry out my plan, this could be a healthier, more cost-effective, far less sadistic way to help cure my PTSD. But also far less fun. We heard on the news that the forecast called for sub-freezing temperatures, and that we would likely be hit by an approaching storm. What could be better than icy-cold revenge on the heels of a blizzard that blasts you into next year?

When we returned, The Bitch wanted to continue our live-in love fest. I apologized, and said my stomach problems had become worse. "I promise I'll make it up to you, baby," I said with the sincerest warmth and charm I could muster. It was a world class performance. "Would you mind if I took a nap? Maybe I'll feel better afterwards." Hugs and kisses.

While I was sleeping, her sister Emily called. She hadn't paid the electric bill in seven months, and her heat was off. Oh, for fuck's sake! Let the stupid cunt freeze to death! One less fucking retard in the world. Even fewer if her kids would only oblige. Damn. That was a bit excessive, even considering my borderline schizophrenia, and I scolded myself for being too harsh. After all, I did want to return some day from the medieval darkness threatening to swallow me whole.

"Wow, during the holidays? That's awful," I said. "Why don't you tell her to come spend the night," I asked, regretting it before I spoke.

"That's really sweet of you, baby. Are you sure," she asked.

"Yeah, of course. She's a pain in the ass, but can't let her freeze to death."

"Why the fuck not," several of my new friends quickly retorted.

"The kids coming too," I inquired with way less apathy than I felt.

"She hasn't had them since November. DCF took them. Listen, Megs, you're right. She's a real pain in the ass. I sincerely appreciate this. I'll be the one with the making up to do," she said, grinning.

Yeah, right. Bitch. Then she kissed me warmly on the mouth. It was slow, lasting, and loving. My heart ached to have my friend back, my dear Chrissy returned to me. She was so soft and tender that the dark clouds surrounding my thoughts seemed to evaporate. They quickly returned when she smacked me hard on the ass with both hands.

Emily's arrival would indeed throw a wrench in the works, but it was only a delay. Everything would resume the next night or the night after, when she left to go get high, hopefully along with the thermometer. I could placate The Bitch that long by eating her pussy, and letting her eat mine. Maybe I'd even give her the privilege of sliding her tongue up my ass. I was, after all, a good sport.

I considered different options to carry out my revenge. I could have told The Bitch up front about wanting to tie her up as a sexual fantasy of mine, but I wasn't sure she'd allow it. Besides, it would alert her to the very existence of the my thoughts, if not my goal. What I eventually settled on seemed to have the best chance of success.

The plan, once The Retard left, was to go to bed with The Bitch, keeping everything as normal as possible. Except, however, that I would not be sleeping. Waiting for the right moment, I would get up, pretending to use the restroom.

Upon returning, I would quietly get my bag of toys and put the restraints in position. Next, I would gingerly attach first the restraint to the bed frame, then the handcuff to her wrist, trying not to wake her. That part would be easy, I was reasonably sure. The element of surprise would almost certainly be with me. The second cuff and remaining straps would be trickier, though not impossible. I had bought the kind of handcuffs with fluffy covers around them. She would not feel any cold metal, but she would certainly hear the mechanism latch. Even then, she would probably be only half aware. If she raised too much of a stink, I'd encourage her to be adventuresome and go with the flow. "You trust me... don't you?"

The plan was not without its flaws, of course. At any point during the setup she could wake up. She might play along, she might not. She might become extremely agitated once the first cuff was locked. She could then throw off the mattress and box spring, pulling the frame out the front door to seek help, though I thought this extremely unlikely. Once I got the second cuff on, the game was pretty much over. Still, I was prepared mentally to fail. I gave it a 70/30 probability of success, with very little chance of a major blow-up. Time would tell.

Chapter 8

The Bitch went to pick up The Retard that afternoon. "Stay here, honey," she said. "Get plenty of rest." This worked in my favor, giving me time for a dry run of the cuffs and straps. Rest, my ass. I was able to do a full setup of arm and leg ties three times before they returned. I grew much more confident.

The Retard arrived in full drama mode. "Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! It's so good to see you, Peggy!" Hugs and kisses. Bleh. Standard fare of mindless conversation ensued, followed by dinner. It was snowing, though the forecasted blizzard would only lay down a couple of inches. Well, good. At least we wouldn't be snowed in the next morning.

The Retard, of course, wanted to hear all about the new love affair between her sister and me. We were both discreet. Only because she brought it up, I said something about Alex being okay with everything. I was feeling pretty tired, and having fulfilled my social obligations of after-dinner wine and chit chat, made more hugs and kisses goodnight. It would be good to catch up on some rest. Once in the bedroom, I undressed. I always sleep nude, even in cold weather, covering up with heavy blankets. I was yawning all the way to the bed, where I fell quickly asleep.

Chapter 9

I woke up wanting to scratch my nose, but couldn't. My hand had fallen asleep, and was tingling. Oh, fuck it, I thought, and tried rubbing my nose into the pillow. Yet, I couldn't do that, either. I was unable to turn onto my side. I usually don't sleep on my back, and I was a little uncomfortable. My back ached.

I saw that it was morning. No, actually it looked closer to noon. Jesus, had I slept that long? I must have been more tired than I thought. I was cold as shit, too. I shivered. Again I tried to turn on my side, but was unable. I tried lifting my legs for leverage, but couldn't move them either. What the hell?

I suddenly realized I was tied up with my own straps and handcuffs. Holy fucking shit. Had The Bitch gone through my suitcase? "Hey," I yelled towards the kitchen, where I heard noises. "What's going on?"

A few moments later the bedroom door opened. "Well good morning, Slut!"

The Retard.

"Emily, what the hell's going on? I'm freezing. Wait, what did you say?" I was hoping this was a bad joke.

"S. L. U. T. That spells, `Slut,'" she crooned.

"Where the hell is Chris," I demanded.

"Gone shopping for the day, and then to see her new boyfriend."

"You idiot," I clamored, "she doesn't have a new boyfriend. Take these things off me right now!"

"I don't think so," she chimed melodically. "You and I are going to have lots of fun today."

"Is this some kind of joke? Emily, what are you doing? You think it's fun to tie someone up like this?"

She only smiled.

"Okay, okay. The joke's over. Now, let me go," I said more calmly than I felt. "Let me go, already."

No response.

"Chris! Chris God dammit, where are you," I screamed. I began pulling furiously at the restraints. "Chris!"

"Scream to your heart's content, Slut." She exited and closed the door behind her.

The chains were not budging an inch. I had very little wiggle room, but still I tried yanking them repeatedly. They were serious pieces of equipment, though, as I knew. I bought them for this very purpose. How in the fuck did The Retard – The Retard of all people – turn the tables on me? When did she have time for this? It must have been early this morning. Chris left to go shopping, and The Retard must have gone through my stuff as soon as she left. Had I been that deep asleep? Fuck, I guess so. It was too much to figure out. I had to get out of here first, and ask questions later.

"Chris!" This last one was at the top of my lungs. Still no sign of her. I decided to stop for now. I didn't want to give The Retard anymore satisfaction. I tried my legs again. No use; I had absolutely no leverage there, and they were spread wide. Also, I was still naked.

What if something happened to Chris? Was I at the mercy of The Retard? Well, shit, I guess I was stuck there until she got back. Gone shopping? She hadn't said anything about shopping. And what the hell was that about a boyfriend?

I decided to brave out the situation, for now, until I could figure out what was happening. "Emily, will you please let me go? Come on, enough is enough, now." Only kitchen sounds answered me. Was she making breakfast? Probably so, as I could make out some food smells, now that I had calmed myself.

"I'm hungry. Would you at least bring me some food? How about some coffee?"

"Be right there!" Thank fucking Christ. At least she had said something.

She came back in a couple minutes with a plate of food and a cup of coffee. "Emily, tell me what's going on. Seriously."

"Here, have some toast," she said.

"Not until you untie me."

"You need to eat something first," she said, bringing the toast to my mouth.

"Fine." I took a couple small bites of the toast.

"Here," she said. "The coffee is warm but not hot. It won't burn you." I saw there was a bendable straw, which she drew down to my lips. I took a sip.

"That's good. Thank you. Emily, why did you tie me up?"

"You tell me. These are your restraints," she grinned.

I sighed. "I meant to surprise Chris, okay? It's really none of your business what we do in bed."

"It certainly is my business when you're planning on holding my sister prisoner," she said.

"Prisoner? Dammit, Emily, what the fuck is wrong with you? This is between Chris and me! I was just going to surprise her to try to add excitement to our vacation. Now let me go!"

"Eat some eggs." She brought them to my mouth.

"Fine." I snapped at them, and she brought back the toast. "I can wait as long as it takes for her to get back," I mumbled with my mouth full of food. "Give me some coffee, asshole."

She fed me the remainder of breakfast.

Chapter 10

"Shit, you always did have great titties." The Retard had returned after cleaning up the kitchen.

"So did you," I retorted. "Been a long time since we fucked."

"Mhm, damn straight. Too long." She leaned over and ran her fingers lightly between my stomach and breasts.

"Emily, stop that!" I wriggled, trying to get away from her touch. Her fingers drifted lower, touching the top of my protruding hip bone. I thrust my hips in the air to push her hand away, then fell back to the bed. It was a futile exercise. She dragged her fingers in circles, down to where my thighs began.

"I said fucking stop that!"

"Good," she said, mildly slapping the skin. "You've got plenty of energy."

"Emily, would you at least tell me what's going on? Why are you doing this?"

"All in good time, my dear. But first," she said with a wicked grin, "I'm gonna fuck... your... hot... wet... cunt."

"God fucking dammit, Emily! You stop this right now!" I was struggling with all my might to break free. I didn't care that the cuffs were bruising my wrists and ankles. I had to get out of this. Somehow, I had to get out. Then I remembered, it's only temporary until Chris gets back.

The Retard walked away from the bed, and when she returned, said, "Struggling is pointless." I noticed something in her hands.

"Fine, you fed me breakfast. Now fuck my cunt."

"Anger is also pointless." Then, I saw the O-ring gag in her hands.

"Emily!" This was going from bad to worse. I tried desperately to escape, but there was nothing I could do. "Emily, stop this right fucking now or you're going to jail as soon as I get out of here. That is, if I can keep my husband from beating you to a bloody pulp!" I pulled at the restraints, trying to either break them or somehow yank them off the frame. No luck. Jesus fucking Christ, I was getting scared.

The Retard moved closer with the gag. I tried every possible kind of maneuver to either push her away or hit her with an elbow or knee. Then, she smacked me hard across the face.

"Now, now. Let's have no more of that," she warned.

"Fucking bitch!" I spat as fiercely as I could into her face. That brought a second slap, harder than before, and a backhand on the other side. If I could only get close enough to bite, I could sink my teeth into her and... Relax, I again told myself. This is only a bad joke. It will all be over before too long. But the gag? It was beginning to take its toll. I was starting to break down emotionally.

"Emily..." I first said, then pleaded, "Emily, why are you doing this to me?"

"Hush, baby, hush." With that, she leaned over my head in order to attach the gag. I made a quick lunge for her, snapping my teeth in the hopes of getting some skin, but I was nowhere near close. A fourth hit was no longer a slap in the face, but a punch.

"Fucking bitch!"

And again. I couldn't take it. I relaxed my jaw.

Chapter 11

I drifted in and out of consciousness, not knowing how much time had passed. Probably only a few minutes. The Retard was still sitting on the bed. The gag was in place.

"Emily," I tried to say, but failed miserably.

"Be back in a sec," she said, and left the room. In a few minutes, she returned with ice in a wet towel, and touched it to my cheeks. It was a relief. I moaned softly.

"There, isn't this a better way to behave," she asked sweetly.

"Bitch," I attempted, but that failed, too. God damn, my cheeks were fucking sore. The gag stretched my mouth wide open. It was already making me sore behind my front teeth. I needed to try again to relax.

"I won't hurt you, well, not too much, as long as you cooperate," she said. "All you have to do is let me have my way with you," she said in a sick, playful voice.

I looked straight ahead into the bedroom wall, but also into the distance.

"This, among other things," she remarked with a bit of glee, "is payback what you did to me when we were teenagers. You may have forgotten, but I did not."

I turned to look her in the eye. Had I treated her that bad? Oh, for fuck's sake, there's no way! I mean, I was a little abusive to her, and made her my submissive whore a few times, but nothing serious. Nothing deserving this! Maybe her psyche was weaker than I realized at the time, and she was traumatized.

She brought me back into focus by asking, "How are your cheeks?"

I nodded.

"The cold will help keep the swelling down." Duh. After a while, she emptied the ice from the towel and placed it lightly over my entire face. It was still very cold, and felt good.

"Tat to," I mouthed through the towel.

"You are so damn cute," she exclaimed. Then, I heard her rummaging through something, probably my suitcase. "My, oh, my. You've brought some very nice play toys!"

She lifted the towel and showed me the remainder of my equipment. I became scared again. I was shivering.

"Toad," I said, trying to tell her I was very cold.

"Hmm?"

I shivered deliberately.

"Oh, not for long. We are about to heat things up." She looked back at me for a moment. "Don't worry, baby. I'll get you nice and warm."

With that, she took off her clothes and slowly climbed on top of me. Fuck, at least she was a warm body. She began by playing with my tits, squeezing and rubbing them, kissing them softly. "Mmm, been a long time since I sucked on these puppies."

To hell with it, might as well play along to see if I could placate her. Only temporary. Only temporary. I sighed softly, trying not to overdo it. She squeezed and massaged my breasts, pinching my nipples and sucking on them. Then, she moved her body up my torso. Her boobs hovered just above my mouth.

"Here you go, Slut." With that, she lowered her left breast into my open mouth. At first, I kept my tongue towards the back of my mouth. "Come, now, time for you to suck my tits."

I tentatively licked her nipple, then, letting go of my hatred for the moment, I began to suckle. As much as I could, that is. While I couldn't close my mouth (nor my teeth, unfortunately), I was able to get a small suction going.

"Suck harder." I tried. I could only make a very poor seal, which created lots of slurping noises. I ventured out with my tongue to try to moisten the area and create a moderate suction.

"Mmm, that's better, but not good enough." With that, she pressed her breast down hard onto my face. I continued sucking. In the meantime, breathing was becoming difficult. Only a small amount of air was getting through my nose, so I sucked for all I was worth, showing her how eager I was to please her.

"That's a good slut. You like sucking on my tits?"

"Mhm," I nodded enthusiastically.

"Here, take the other one." I did as I was told, still very much concerned about my oxygen supply. I didn't think she would deliberately kill me, but I had no idea what to expect anymore. The prospect of passing out alone was horrible, never mind suffocating.

"Mmm," she said. "Mommy's going to take good care of her baby."

Ugh, really? What a fucking creep. Chris, where the fuck were you?

The Retard got up and went back to my suitcase. I saw her putting on the strap-on. Fucking hell. I would have to endure that, I supposed.

"Now, Slut, I am going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck, and fuck, and fuck until my heart's content. In order to go as deep as possible, I am going to remove your leg straps."

Was this an opportunity? Possibly.

"However, I would advise against you trying anything stupid." She turned, and I saw the bull whip in her hand. "Do we have an understanding?" I nodded vigorously.

"Good girl! However, I want to be absolutely clear, so..." She walked over to me. The whip was in her hand, and I could see her raising it for a blow.

I cringed and tensed all over in anticipation, crying "No! No! No," through the O-ring.

The blow came anyway. It fell hard on my right breast, then quickly another. I howled and squirmed, turning towards my right to protect myself. Ripples of intense pain coursed through my body. Another two blows struck my left breast. It was nothing like I had ever felt before. I could not take a breath for several seconds, then finally forced myself to do so. I was unable to stop clenching my eyes shut, trying desperately to block out the pain. The muscles around my eyes and cheeks were horribly tensed. I had to stop. They were already cramping badly. My whole body was on fire.

"So, I'll ask you again. Do we have an understanding?"

I energetically nodded my head. Oh, Chris! Please, please, please come home!

"Very good!" She walked over to my feet and undid the straps. Even in my excruciating pain and terror, I had thoughts of trying to wrap one of my legs around her neck. It was pure fantasy. I was too prone and demoralized to even make an attempt. It would have been feeble.

In another instance of absurdity, she left the room with the towel and returned with more ice, repeating her earlier ministrations, and tending to my very sore breasts. She had also brought some cool water, and she poured several sips into my mouth.

"Why are you doing this," I tried to ask, sobbing. It was incomprehensible.

After a long while, and much tenderness, she took away the ice.

"Tat to," I said with as much sincerity as I could.

"You're very welcome, Slut." She discarded the ice and came back to the side of the bed. Surveying my naked body, she seemed to arrive at a determination.

"Okay, so, I know what I need." She brought an object over and set it down on the bed. Then, looking around for something else and not seeming to find it, she left the room. A few minutes later, she returned with an extension cord.

"Ha-ha! Now, we've got power!" It was for the vibrating wand. She was still wearing the strap-on, I could see. Fucking hell.

There was something else I had just realized. She left the room twice with my legs untied. Was it a stupid mistake, or a test? I leaned towards stupidity. Not that I thought it would have been a good opportunity for escape. Still, I would have to be more vigilant.

Everything was set up and ready. God dammit. How long would this take?

"Okay, Slut. It's about time we get this show on the road." She moved into position and spread my legs. I whimpered pitifully, trying to appeal to any sympathy she might have left for me.

"That's not gonna to help you. You are going to be fucked," she said emphatically. "You deserve everything you get here, so no whining. Besides, I'm horny, and I want the pleasure of fucking you while I cum."

I nodded, in spite of myself. I was trying anything to make this go as quickly as possible.

"Otay, thut ne." I mouthed.

"Good! That's a good Slut! You are certainly learning quickly. Still, I'm going to keep this close by, just in case," she said, raising the whip into my view.

I nodded rapidly to show my understanding. I was up shit's creek for the time being.

I started rotating my hips, hoping to warm myself up and get at least a bit of juice flowing, or, less likely, in the hopes of getting her to realize that I needed lubrication.

She moved into position, placing the dildo's head at the entrance to my vagina. Though she had an evil grin on her face, she actually did notice me moving my hips.

"Mmm, that's a good, hot Slut."

I nodded, arching my back to emphasize my tits, sore as they were. "Thut," I mouthed, wanting her to suck.

She massaged my breasts, but not too harshly. This was good. I needed it desperately to prepare for what was coming. I tried, and failed pretty badly, to stick my tongue through the O-ring to make a licking motion, as if I wanted her to kiss me. Surprisingly, though, she got the hint.

She straddled me, bringing her face close to mine. "That was a good idea, Slut. I've never kissed someone like this, through a gag."

She started by licking my lips. Though I could hardly move my jaw at all, I tried to kiss her back. I deliberately began breathing heavier, more for my sake than hers. I wanted my blood pumping. She was now penetrating my mouth, licking my tongue within the confines of the gag, occasionally sliding her tongue between my cheeks and the O-ring. She was also squeezing my breasts again, and though they were still sore, I knew this would help get me started.

When she was done, she pulled away and got up on her knees between my legs.

"Tat to," I offered.

"You're welcome, Slut." Then she reached over and flicked my left nipple hard with a finger.

"Ugh," I grunted loudly in pain, turning away in the hopes of avoiding another.

"That's one last reminder of who's in control, here."

I nodded vigorously, and again began gyrating my hips in a come-fuck-me motion. I spread myself wide and lifted my knees towards my chest.

Finally in position, she placed the head of the dildo at the entrance to my pussy, moving it around to get me ready.

"Holy shit, you are soaked already!"

Oh, my God. Oh, my fucking God. She was right. I could feel it. Fucking hell! Fucking shit, fucking hell, fucking shit, fucking, fucking, fucking hell! This was not only embarrassing in the extreme, it was not a good sign to show her. Fuck!

After a brief moment of wrestling with intense emotions, I thought it was best to play it off in her favor. "Tlet. Theddy tlet."

"That's wonderful, Slut. I'm glad you're wet. It's gonna make me cum all the harder knowing that I am breaking you in properly."

I again nodded. The fuck choice did I have?

The dildo began to penetrate me. I could feel her knuckle against my clit, massaging it gently yet firmly. She seemed true to most of her other accommodations thus far. If I went along willingly, she would not hurt me too bad. I took a deep breath, and began to thrust up to meet her.

After a couple minutes of this, and the dildo sliding into near full penetration with continuous in-out motions, she began to pick up the pace. She had been looking me in the eye most of the time, but now her lids drooped sensuously. I could see her face was flushed, her nipples erect. I wrapped my legs, which had been mostly dangling in the air, around her waist, pulling her into me. She became more energetic, pumping the cock in and out with short, powerful strokes. Every once in a while, she would plunge all the way in, and I moaned to encourage her. Jesus fucking Christ. It was true. I was turned on and enjoying it. Some sick shit was going on, and I had to take the blame for at least some of it.

Her strokes were beginning to give me a pounding sensation, her hips slapping my thighs as she hit full depth. She then slowed, and soon stopped. Reaching for the wand, she placed it between her legs, and I assumed, underneath the strap-on. Turning it on low at first, she resumed fucking me.

As she became more excited, she turned up the vibration. Fucking hell. I could feel it, now. I knew this was going to make me cum. Fucking hell!

I wrapped my legs around her as tight as I could, now, while still allowing the dildo to go in and out. My tits were bouncing to and fro with each thrust. My arms were aching from being tied up so long, and all the exertions. I didn't care at the moment. I wanted her to fuck me, and fuck me harder.

"Ardur," I mouthed, grunting encouragement with every thrust. She understood, and began fucking me like crazy. She turned the vibrator up to its highest setting. After a few more powerful strokes, she fell forwards onto her hands, letting go of the wand. It stayed in place between us as she continued fucking my pussy. I could feel it quite strongly, and I'm sure it was either on her clit or close.

Suddenly, she got back up onto her knees and arched her back, plunging her cock deep inside me. She was cumming hard. Her thrusting had stopped, and she was just about frozen in orgasm, moaning loudly. Fucking hell. It was so intense I started cumming. I thrust my hips several times quickly against the dildo, and had a massive orgasm of my own, moaning in concert with her.

Chapter 12

Thank fucking God it was over. I was sitting up in bed, drinking water. I had Chris's big, goose down comforter wrapped around me. Emily had brought me lunch. It was leftovers from last night; steak, potatoes, and broccoli. She had removed the gag, warning me not to ask any questions. It took all my mental discipline, but I complied with this order. She untied the restraints on my hands, not before, however, re-securing my feet. I was still in an extremely vulnerable condition, and in what still might be a dangerous predicament.

Alright, Chris, shopping's got to be done by now. Did you fuck your new boyfriend, yet? Good, Bitch. Now, get your fucking dumbass home so I can get the hell out of here and away from this fucking Retard!

Speaking of, I was consciously trying not to anger her or break the admonition not to ask questions. Yet, I wanted to speak so I could engage my mouth, lips, and tongue. Everything was sore. I said, "Please bring me some more water." I flinched, unsure what she would do.

She left the room with my glass. Was this another slip-up? What are my options? What are my options? The window? Not with my legs secured. Scream? The odds were against anyone hearing. And it would just piss her off. She returned with another glass of water. "Thank you," I said kindly.

"Finish your lunch."

Chapter 13

"Lay back down."

"Emily, no! Please, no! Stop this! You have to stop this!" I was again frantic.

She reached for the whip and I screamed bloody murder, hoping someone would hear. I began pulling at the foot straps, trying desperately to free myself, when the whip struck my back. It hurt like hell but I ignored it. When I thought the next blow might come, I turned like a cat to try to reach for it. I timed it well, and was able to grab it. We both held on for several seconds, struggling for control, each with both hands. But she had too much leverage, not to mention fifty pounds, on me, and pulled it away. Then, she landed several hard blows on my arm and back. Still, I tried to grab it again. I was crying now, growing weaker. I couldn't keep it up. She pushed me hard onto my back and raised the whip.

"No, please, no! I'll do what you want. Please just stop. Emily, please stop." I was covering my breasts with my arms.

"Put your hands above your head."

I was sobbing again. I was trying to think of what I could do. How could I get at her? Finally, I saw no way out of it. She would keep hitting me, I knew. Once again, I had no choice. I moved my right hand slowly towards the restraint. She raised the whip and I withdrew to my chest again.

"Do it, now," she commanded, "both hands."

As I complied, she moved closer and put her knee on my chest. Then, she smacked me hard in the face, and it stung like hell. "Remember that?"

I nodded, looking away.

"Good. If you make one single move with either hand, you are going to seriously regret it."

"I understand," I somehow managed.

The hand restraints were back in place. Before the gag went in my mouth, I was at least able to say, "Please cover me up," which she did.

Chapter 14

I wasn't sure what time it was, but the darkening skies seemed to be caused by a combination of time and weather. Then again, I wasn't sure of anything. How long had I been tied up? Eight hours or more? I realized that I was just waking from a nap. I must have fallen asleep. I was all aches and pains. And where the God damn hell was Chris? It was hard to think.

I moaned, trying to get Emily's attention. She came in the room.

"Thawter, thlead." She already had the glass in her hand. She released the gag on one side and I took several gulps, stretching my mouth afterwards.

"Emily," I tried to begin. She shook her head sternly, so I stopped. "Thank you for the water." She put the gag back in place and left the room.

Once more, I slept.

Chapter 15

I dreamed that Chris was home. She was home and everything was going to be okay. But in the dream, nothing was okay. Everything was the same. No, it was worse. She and Emily were laughing over my prone body lying naked on the bed.

"I have a very special surprise for you, Slut." Chris seemed at once very close and miles away. I was in a fog. The covers were gone. Emily had her clothes on, but Chris was naked. What were they saying?

"I went to visit my new boyfriend today. We had sex for the first time, and I let him cum in my pussy. I told him I was on the pill. Wait until he finds out I may already be carrying his child!" The two of them contorted with laughter.

"Chris," I tried to say, "Chris, please help me." It was unintelligible.

"Wake up, Slut! Here, Em, put these in her nose and hold her still." Emily took something from Chris, and leaned down close to my head. They were nose hooks, I realized, attached to a chain, and Emily inserted them into my nostrils. This was no dream. This was happening right now.

I tried to yell for Chris, but Emily pulled hard on the chain. I got my first taste of pain from these new instruments of torture and control. It was a sharp and intense. My body's defense mechanisms quickly inundated my nasal passage with mucus, trying to rid itself of the foreign invader. My eyes watered and saliva drenched my mouth. It was a struggle to breathe.

"Don't you move, Slut," Emily said. "My sister has a gift for you, and you are going to accept it willingly."

Fuck it. I tried to scream again. Again the chain was pulled harder this time. It felt like my nose would rip open on both sides. What the fucking hell was happening? Chris was home, but she wasn't helping me? Was she a part of this the whole time? The ramifications... The reasons... The craziness of it all... It was too much to contemplate. My sanity began to melt away. I could see it running like multi-colored candles burning down to the wick.

Come back, I said to myself. You can't let that happen. Something royally fucked up is going on right now. You've got to maintain your grip on reality, or you are going to lose your mind. I calmed myself.

"There, what did I tell you? She can be reasonable." It was Emily.

"I see that," Chris said. "Well done. I think you may have started to break her in."

With that, Chris leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Here is my gift for you, Slut. My new boyfriend fucked me this afternoon. He pounded the shit out of me, and I loved every second. We fucked for almost two hours, and then he sprayed his cum inside me. His gorgeous cock was all the way inside my cunt when he came, and it was a huge fucking load." With this she made several cooing noises.

"Mmm it was so fucking good," she continued. "His cum is still inside me now, and I am going to squirt it into your mouth."

Maintain a grip, Margaret, maintain.

"This is so you can see, Slut," Emily said, wiping my tears away. "Keep your eyes open."

Chris then did as she said. She climbed onto the bed and straddled my face. I saw her begin to push outward from her vagina. I heard little squirting and farting noises. What looked like sperm began to bubble at the edge of her lips.

"Emily, make sure her mouth is in place to catch it all," Chris said.

"We're there," she said to Chris. "Don't move, Slut, or you're going to need a nose replacement."

I dared not budge. The bubbles became bigger, and the cum began to accumulate heavily at the outer edge of her pussy. "Don't swallow it yet, Slut," Chris warned. "I want you to keep it all in your mouth so you can feel how much he came."

I closed the back of my throat. It quickly became difficult to breathe with the hooks in my nose and all the mucus. Luckily, there was at least a little air getting through, and Emily relaxed her pull on the chain somewhat.

With a few more pushes, several small drops of cum splattered into my open mouth. Then a large dollop dropped down, along with several more of the same size. It all went in.

"Em, get as much as you can."

With that, Emily reached a finger into her sister's pussy and manipulated it inside and along the edges, trying to scoop up more cum. She brought along several small drops and shook them into my mouth, eventually scraping her finger clean on my lips.

"Done," Emily said.

"Good." Chris climbed off me and brought her face near to mine again. "Now, Slut, before you swallow, I want you to know my new boyfriend's name.

At this, Emily tugged the chain taut again.

"His name," Chris grinned wickedly, "is Alex. Swallow, Slut."

No. She had to be lying. He couldn't be in on this too. No, no, no. My mind reeled. I was almost senseless. So many thoughts and images flashed in front of my eyes. He could not have known about this. There's no way he would have allowed this to happen. She had to be lying about this being his cum. It's impossible that he would have... that he would have... impossible that...

No, not impossible. She seemed to be telling the truth. It was more likely that she had gone to my house and lied to him. I didn't think she was lying now. There was too much glee on her face and in her voice.

She may have told him that I was resting after a night of passionate love making, and was sound asleep. Maybe she even told him a bunch of lurid details. That would make him instantly hard. He always was a sucker for lesbians. But would he have sex with her that readily? Without he and I talking about it first? And without wearing protection? It didn't seem plausible. Then again, I was currently in her house for the purpose of fucking her, was I not? If she came on to him, why should he hesitate? After all, she was a trusted friend. How would he know whether or not she used birth control? Men don't think or care about that when a woman is hot and ready to fuck. Most men, anyway. So, there it was.

"I said," Chris reiterated, "swallow, Slut."

I swallowed my husband's cum.

Chapter 16

Chris straddled my head once more, and after grinding her pussy down onto my face and covering me with all the remnants of sperm she could, she told Emily to take off the gag. I was aching all over, and both my arms were tingling and close to being numb.

"I want her whole mouth and tongue to go inside my pussy. Get ready to yank the chain if she does anything stupid."

I took a deep breath, and what seemed like half my face slid up into Chris's pussy. It was slimy, and I gagged.

"Eat my cunt, Slut," Chris said. I did as I was told, licking her insides as deep as I could get my tongue. Tenuous as my situation was, the thought crossed my mind to sink my teeth into her flesh. That would have been pointless, however. Emily would have ripped my nose apart, and what's the worst I could have done? Cause some temporary, severe pain? Maybe I could have gnawed off part of a pussy lip. Even at that, I would have hurt Chris, not seriously injured her. And the retaliation would have been tenfold.

So, I did what I was told, and even tried to do a good job of it, though I was starting to feel lightheaded. I had no passageway for oxygen, and tried to make my choking noises audible. Chris lifted herself. I gulped for air, and after a few seconds she lowered her pussy back onto my face. She repeated this several times.

"Make me cum, Slut, and I'll let you breathe."

I moved my mouth, as much as I could, to her clit and began sucking. It was swollen, and she came pretty quickly.

"That's a good Slut," she said, and lifted herself off me.

I could at least breathe again, thank fucking Christ. Emily was moving to place the O-ring gag back on my mouth, and I screamed for Chris, or for someone.

Emily pulled the chain hard, and felt a sharp pain in my nose. I hoped it wasn't bleeding. I was already having enough trouble finding avenues of air.

"What did I tell you about your behavior," Emily shouted.

Then, the gag was back in place. They left the room.

Chapter 17

It was true, what Chris had said. I was becoming broken. I was weak physically and mentally. They finally released me from all the chains except the one on my left foot, a foot which I might have happily sawed off given a saw and enough time. At least they let out as much slack as was possible. And at least that fucking gag was out.

At one point, I saw Chris give Emily some money. "Thanks for bringing the X's."

"No problem." Emily winked at me.

Well, that explained how I found myself completely bound without ever feeling a thing. I had been drugged.

Over the next day or so they cared for me very well. Actually, more than cared for me, they were nice to me. They explicitly told me, though, it was just to help me heal and recover my strength for my next round of torture. I was allowed to speak only with permission. I was prohibited from asking any questions about my imprisonment or why this was happening. "All in good time, you will learn," was all Chris said.

I was given plenty of food and drink. I was hand-bathed lavishly by both Chris and Emily in a bath full of scented soaps. I had no chance of escaping, of course, as they had locked my ankles in together by a short chain. When finished, they hand-dried me top to bottom. It was mostly matter-of-fact, but again, also gentle. In some sick and twisted parting from reality, I reached out to each girl as they dried my feet, and stroked their hair lovingly. They briefly looked at each other, then finished up. Was I going crazy? Had I just been trying to get on their good side, hoping they might release me soon? Or that they might be less rough in our next encounter? Or was I actually being affectionate?

It was Sunday, New Year's Eve. I was being given a treat, I was told, though not what exactly. After dinner, Chris gave me a glass of wine, and then a second, and told me to drink it all. We departed for the bedroom, where I was made to lie down on the bed. My terror suddenly returned, but soon dissipated when only one ankle was secured to the bed frame.

"You've been a good girl today, Slut," Emily said. "You will be allowed to masturbate while Chris and I put on a show for you."

Huh?

Then Chris said, "We used to do this when we were kids. And it's been too long, right Em?"

"Yes indeed," her sister replied.

Chris said to me, "I can't tell you how jealous Emily was when I told her I had gone down on you. But we are going to remedy that today."

"We are," Emily said. "Do you remember our first time," she asked, as they both climbed into bed next to me.

"Well, yeah, but it was really just your first time," Chris replied. "As I recall, you had kissed your first boy, and that same night you slipped into my bed wearing nothing but a pair of panties. Horny fucking bitch."

"Hell yeah, I was horny. I was what, twelve?"

"Yeah, I think so. Twelve or thirteen," Chris concurred. "Even then you were cute as a button. You just climbed on top of me and started grinding your crotch on my leg."

"Mhm. And then you got pissed off and told me to get the hell out of your room. Do you remember what I did next," Emily asked.

"How could I forget? You asked if I knew how much you loved me. Of course I knew it wasn't love; it was your crotch on fire. Still, it was very touching when you kissed me. So, I just let you finish humping my leg until you came."

"Anyway," Chris said, turning to me, "Em and I are going to fuck each other for a while. You are allowed to masturbate, but do not cum until we say so. Understood?"

I nodded, not saying a word. Maybe the old year would take with it the insanity I had fallen into. Maybe not.

Chapter 18

God dammit. God fucking dammit! Here I was, ready to stab one of these cunts with an ice pick if I got the chance, and yet I was getting turned on by watching them kiss and suck on each other's tits. The fucking hell is wrong with me?

They got into a sixty-nine with Emily on top. She dove into her sister's pussy, pulling Chris's legs up and back to take full access. In a few minutes, Chris came, and Emily rubbed her face in circles all around Chris's vagina. She was making loud slurping noises as she did so.

Seeing Chris on bottom, like she was subordinate, had a strange effect on me, especially with Emily being younger and less attractive physically (and mentally). It felt as if Emily were less worthy of mounting her sister's face, therefore the act was sexier. That she could be on top like this, almost as if Chris were trapped, was... Fucking shit. I really hated myself at that moment, the same moment I started masturbating.

Chapter 19

It was hot, I had to admit. Emily rode hard, and for a long time. There was one exceptionally torrid part towards the end. Emily was moaning, obviously close to cumming. I moved close so I could see Chris's face. Watching her getting face fucked by her own sister was like nothing I had ever seen. The thought of incest had never turned me on before, but this was intense. Fucking intense. Nine-thousand-degrees intense. And was about to get hotter.

From the moment Chris realized I was up close and watching, she kept her eyes focused on me the entire time. Her whole face and most of her hair was slick with sweat and cum. Emily's hips were traveling so far across her sister's face that Chris's eyes would disappear then reappear in and out my view. Then, she would rotate her hips down onto Chris's mouth, like she had a cock going in and out.

Finally, Emily announced, "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum on your face!" Then, as she had done when fucking me with the dildo, she sat straight up.

At that point, oblivious to any possible consequences, lost in the extreme heat of the moment, I leaned in to Chris and said, "Fuck her in the ass."

Chris immediately grabbed Emily's ass cheeks with both hands and, spreading them wide, pressed her tongue deep into her sister's rear passage. She did this a bunch of times. And her eyes never once left mine. I was about to fucking lose it. I was rubbing my clit, and finally began thrusting three fingers in and out of my vagina. My eyes never once left hers.

Emily screamed, "Oh, fuck" several times after the first anal penetration. She came after about the third or fourth thrust. Her body spasmed and contorted violently, and she slumped forward. Chris's tongue slid out of her ass.

Forget about nine thousand degrees; this was nine million. I begged Chris to let me cum. Without saying a word, she shook her head. Her answer was no.

Oh, God! I couldn't fucking take this! I was teetering on some unholy edge. I pulled my hand away from my pussy not in fear but in revulsion and anger. A gust of wind would have set off my quivering vagina. I was shaking all over. I lay down on the bed and cried in frustration. God dammit. I should have just cum. Let them fucking kill me for all I care.

Chapter 20

We stayed motionless on the bed for what seemed like a long time, probably thirty or forty minutes. I was the first to stir. I was numb, like a runaway slave who had not been able to find shelter, and had returned voluntarily. Without a word, I attended to my master with kisses. The thought crossed my mind that I would rather have gouged out her eye with my teeth. Yet, my kiss was soft and gentle.

Good old Chris, she began heating up again. I held my index finger up to her so she could see it. After putting it in my mouth to get it wet, I said two words: "My ass." She nodded, her breathing quickening.

Emily finally awoke as there were now two actions stirring the bed: Chris masturbating and me fucking my own ass. After observing for a while, she moved her face between Chris's legs so she could eat her pussy once more.

So, what would this be, Twilight Zone, Episode Number 249 of the past few months? Probably. I pulled out my finger and brought it to Chris's mouth, and she accepted it eagerly. After going in and out of my ass again, I moved my hand back to her face. However, Emily, who had seen this and moved between us, grabbed my wrist. She held it between the three of us for several seconds. No one said a word. Then, she put my finger in her mouth. Call it an even 250.

To continue this splendidly surreal moment, and to add non-verbal communication to the fray, the three of us began playing with ourselves. I was pretty sure I couldn't cum again, though, and I think Emily felt the same way. We gave each other a knowing glance, and brought our fingers to Chris's mouth. It was a suck fest.

Eventually, Emily went back to Chris's pussy. It wasn't going to take long, I could tell. I began kissing her again. When I thought she might be close to cumming, I said, "Remember our first night making love?"

She nodded. "Yes."

I moved my body up for her to suckle my breasts, and said, "Hello, Bitch. My name is Eva Green." She tried to swallow me whole.

Chapter 21

I resigned myself to the bed. After my coitus interruptus earlier, and after Chris's most recent orgasm, I had no further thoughts of sex. Far worse than that, I had no thoughts of escape. I belonged to Chris and Emily. I was theirs to use and abuse in whatever manner they wanted. I simply didn't give a fuck.

They could both see it in me, and I knew that they knew. And they knew that I knew. That's what made it sublime. I had given up my very soul.

After taking turns cleaning up in the shower, Chris told me to get on the bed. I did so. "Spread your arms and legs." I did so. No cuffs or chains were needed. I was as passive as a new-born babe.

Chapter 22

Emily struck each of my breasts twice with the whip. They were hard blows, but I'm not sure I even flinched. Then she hit me twice more directly on my pussy. I pulled my knees up in pain, but quickly made them relax back on the bed. One blow on my right thigh, one on my left. One blow on my right cheek, one on my left. It felt kind of good, actually. Her use of symmetry was... One across my right arm, one across my left... excellent. One on my stomach. One on my right hip, one on my left. She applied this entire regimen twice more. I was stinging with pain evenly all over. I felt warm. I felt... comfortable.

Chris straddled my face. I began dutifully, mechanically eating her pussy. She was still wet from the shower. She ground her vagina in circles onto my face as I ate her.

I felt Emily climb between my legs. She had the strap-on attached. I realized when she began to penetrate me that she was using the larger size dildo. I didn't care. I wanted to hurt. This would make me complete; pain inside and out. At least it meant feeling something.

Chris spread her cheeks and lowered her asshole onto my mouth. I obediently slid my tongue inside her back door, and fucked her as she masturbated yet again.

Emily had part of the dildo inside me now. She moved it in circles, trying to stretch me, using micro thrusts to go deeper.

Chris climaxed again, then lifted off me. She got down on her elbows close to my face, and said, "Start pushing like you're having a baby. Every time she pulls out, you push out. Understand?"

I nodded without question. Following her commands wouldn't be hard, I thought. I was already becoming stretched like I was giving birth. Emily raised my legs over her hips. Every time her cock withdrew, I pushed out against her. She would thrust in, I would push out. Over and over.

Chris grabbed the whip and hit me in several places, and harder than Emily had done. Three, four, five... I lost track. My eyes watered and I shut them tight, trying to keep in the tears. I was proud of myself, though; I never cried out.

Emily was picking up the pace. It was as if my torture aroused her again. She was going a little deeper, a little deeper, a little deeper. My involuntary pussy juice was helping the penetration.

Then, I heard another crack of the whip unattended by pain. Was I that numb? Another crack, and still no pain. After some difficulty opening my eyes, I saw that Chris was behind Emily, using the whip on her.

What the... I stopped the question before its conclusion.

Chris staggered her blows onto different parts of Emily; from her breasts, to her face, to her arms, to her legs, then back to her ass. Emily cried out in pain at each strike. Still, she kept fucking me.

Chris came over and pointed her finger in my face, and said, "You, Slut, keep pushing."

I nodded. I was panting now. My vagina was throbbing. Each time Chris applied the whip to Emily's ass, her cock thrust deeper into me. It were as if she were fucking me by extension first of the whip and then of Emily. The pain was becoming pretty severe. I think I began bleeding vaginally.

The cock was penetrating me fully now. It soon became unbearable. I screamed aloud. With one last crack of the whip, Chris shouted, "Emily, pull out," and then shoved her out of the way.

I screamed again at the dildo's removal, involuntarily pushing for everything I was worth. Chris put her face between my legs and said, "Peggy, push! Push, God dammit, push!" I kept pushing as her mouth latched onto some part of me below.

My orgasm was indescribable. Happy New Year.

Chapter 23

"Happy New Year, my love." It was Chris. No. Oh please, no. Please help me. Someone please help me. Not again.

I must have been frowning. "It's over, Megs. That part is over. All is well again. We love you."

No. Not possible. What was happening?

"In fact," she said, "I love you. And I will love you for the rest of my life."

Was this real? I began breathing deeper. "Where am I?"

"In a word? Safe."

"But..."

"Hush, baby, hush. We'll talk later. Have some water." She was sitting on the side of the bed. I felt the straw at my lips, and took several sips, my eyes still shut.

"I love you," she was whispering in my ear. "I love you. I love you."

"I love you too, Chrissy."

"Nothing on Earth could be more certain," she said, and kissed my cheek. I wasn't sure if she meant my words or hers. Both, I understood in a moment of clarity.

She gave me more water, then left the room for a couple minutes. She brought back juice, coffee, toast, and eggs, she informed me. My eyes did not yet brave the daylight.

Chris crawled in bed behind me. She was naked. I was on my left side. Her left arm pried its way under my head. Her right arm went under my right arm. I hugged them both fiercely, and began sobbing, bawling with full snot and the works. I felt a great pang of longing had just been erased by her being, and by the ordeal's end. An infinite void was filled by an infinite presence.

Wanting to share this overwhelming emotion with her, I quickly explained they were tears of joy. "I have my friend back! I'm so fucking happy I have my friend back!"

"No, you don't," she said softly. "You will never have me back. You did not, will not, ever lose me."

The end.