Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: N/A
|Introduction: Linnea has to choose between Stacey and Jenny|
Chapter 10, In which Stacey is a hater
I suddenly awakened, gazing silently at the ceiling of the darkened bedroom. The soft sound of Stacey's breathing came from atop the bed, but that wasn't what had roused me. I listened carefully, feeling aches in every inch of my body.
Some of it was sleeping on the floor; the comforter puddled beneath me didn't do much to disguise the unyielding hardwood beneath it. I suspected I'd have felt the same way if I'd been in my usual location on the sofa; most of the damage had come from straining muscles I didn't even know I had as Stacey had teased me through an unending series of titanic orgasms.
My face heated at the memory, which was impressive considering I was a self-professed slut. Perhaps it was because none of the climaxes had been of the usual physically-induced variety; perhaps it was because my parents had witnessed most of them. Perhaps it was something deeper.
The soft hum repeated, disrupting my thoughts, and I recognized the sound of my phone in vibrate mode. I rolled silently to my feet, stifling a sigh as I flexed my protesting core muscles, and crept out of the bedroom without disturbing the rhythm of Stacey's sleep. Where had she left the phone?
I found it sitting on the counter with my keys. The display glowed brightly, displaying only three uppercase letters -- "JTX". As I looked at it, the phone vibrated again, triggering a rush of moist heat inside me. I bit my lip and couldn't resist the temptation to stroke my suddenly-throbbing clit.
"JTX" was Jenny in Texas, the stripper with whom I'd been having a torrid, if long-distance, affair. Like me, she was a slut who delighted in giving and receiving sexual pleasure, and if there were any two more compatible people in the world, I'd have to see them to believe it. The problem was that I was desperately in love with Stacey, and she was the jealous type.
Stacey had found out I'd been cheating on her the previous night, and it had been as bad as I'd feared. Jenny was safely out of harm's way in Texas, but I'd been right there to soak up all of Stacey's hurt and wrathful retaliation. I'd been mind-fucked to the point where I didn't even really care anymore, mostly. Just doing what Stacey wanted was enough to get me off.
The phone buzzed again and I gasped, my finger twisting the rings that trapped my clit between them. Touching myself that way definitely was not on the list of things Stacey wanted, but just now, the top of the list was "don't ever have anything to do with Jenny again."
Since I'd been talking and texting with Jenny every day for months and loved her just as much as I loved Stacey, I really wanted to answer the phone. Knowing that I was denying myself the pleasure of doing so, just because Stacey wanted it, had me wound up tighter than if the phone had been a vibrator buried in my sensitive ass.
The phone went quiet and reported, "Missed calls: 4". I'd been a good girl, and not answered. The thought left my knuckles white on the counter and my knees gave out. Liquid heat coated the fingers of my other hand and I moaned raggedly, unable to stave off my orgasm. I listened, but the rest of our apartment remained quiet.
A short buzz jerked me back to my feet. "JTX: r u there?" I moaned again, creaming like cheap bacon on a hot griddle as I swayed on my feet, caught between competing imperatives.
I knew I couldn't go on this way. I loved Jenny -- closer than a sister, more than a lover, like we'd become two halves of the same person. I didn't want to see her suffer at Stacey's hands. But the way it made me feel to obey Stacey -- it was like being fucked in the brain by Aphrodite. I knew I couldn't resist. A growing part of me thought Jenny would like it, too.
A shaking hand reached out and -- after two tries -- turned off the phone. Moisture trickled down my thighs like I'd peed, and no caress was needed to tease myself into another massive climax. I huffed for breath and pulled on my stiff nipples, trying to prolong the pleasure, but the physical sensation subsided beneath the knowledge that Stacey did not like me masturbating.
I mewed like a kitten as my hands fell away and the heat of obedience roused me once more. At some point I'd fallen on the floor, but I didn't remember it. I panted breathlessly, realizing that it wouldn't be long before I stopped thinking about what Stacey wanted and just did it -- like Daddy and Mommy and Michael.
The thought of that happening to Jenny was unbearable. I had to act while I still could.
A moment of careful listening confirmed the apartment was still silent. Quiet as a mouse, I crept down the hall to the closet which was where I kept my belongings. Burrowing through it on hands and knees, I found the unfashionable boots buried in a back corner.
They should have been donated or tossed years ago, but now they served a more important purpose. Stretching my fingers, I reached down the length of the left boot and hooked out the small zip lock bag stuffed up by the toe. I smoothed it gently, almost tenderly, on the floor and gazed at the hair clippings sealed inside.
Jenny had saved her pubic hair when she'd shaved it off, and given it to me just before we'd parted. In my hands, it was a silly sentimental keepsake; the ring riding beneath my clit was a more tangible expression of our mutual love.
In Stacey's hands, the hair was a weapon of unimaginable power. I didn't understand it, really, but she could work magic and hairs were the talismans she used to bend people's perceptions, thoughts, and desires to her will. They were the difference between a Jenny safely beyond Stacey's jealous vindictive rages, and a Jenny who might find herself doing... anything.
Perhaps it was unkind of me, but I did not imagine Stacey doing anything nice to Jenny. I loved both of them more than I could describe, and I couldn't let it happen -- no matter how much Stacey might disapprove. If I were lucky, she'd never find out and the issue wouldn't come up; if not, well... I'd take my punishment. Stacey loved me too, in her way, and hopefully it wouldn't be too bad.
Shaking aside my introspection, I picked up the bag and padded quietly to the bathroom. Offering silent apologies, I opened the baggie and carefully emptied its contents into the toilet bowl. I couldn't chance missing even a single hair, so I ripped the bag into pieces and dumped it in, too.
Relieved to have succeeded, I flushed the toilet and blinked rapidly as I got blinding light instead of the expected rush of water. I realized I was standing in Stacey's bedroom with my hand on the floor lamp chain.
Stacey sat up in bed and looked over at the contents of the popcorn bowl sitting on the chair in front of me. "And what do we have here?"
"Nothing," I mumbled, sounding as guilty as I looked, I'm sure. "Just some trash."
She leaned over and picked up the bowl, looking at it with interest. "Hair, and not your color, either. Whose hair is it, Linnea? Tell me."
The habit of obedience was already too strong to resist a direct request. "Jenny's," I gasped. The gasp was from the sudden heat inside me, not reluctance. "She shaved her pussy for me, and gave me the hairs," I added with a rush, feeling a bit juicy for being so helpful.
"How convenient," Stacey drawled, looking pleased -- I hoped it was with me. "Be a good girl and go fetch your phone, will you?"
By the time I returned with it, Stacey's lips were gleaming in the soft light and I could smell the hair in the pillar candle next to the bed. She spread her legs in wordless invitation and I fell to my knees and began tonguing her. Every twitch and soft sigh she made sent cream trickling down my inner thighs.
Well before either of us was satisfied, Stacey pushed me away, and then snipped a small lock of hair from my head. "I hope we won't be doing this too many more times, or you'll need a shorter cut," she quipped.
I hoped so too, since I owed my current style to her and knew it already was just the way she wanted it. I nodded, uncertain what she was driving at. I settled for watching attentively as Stacey trailed my platinum strands along her lips before sensuously swallowing them. I had to admit everything she did was sensuous.
"Listen carefully, Linnea," Stacey commanded, and of course, I did. "I know you love me, and want to please me, and doing what I want excites you, right?"
"Oh, yes," I panted, melting in her regard.
"Now I understand that you have minor attachments to other people, and occasionally you might want to do things for them on your own initiative. Things that might be different than what I would want."
I nodded, relieved she was being so understanding.
"Well, from now on, Linnea, if you do something -- or even think about doing something -- that you think might displease me, you'll lose control of your bladder, right away. Then you'll come and find me, before you do anything else, so we can decide together on the best thing to do."
"Thank you, Stacey," I whispered, glad that she trusted me to police myself. "I love you so much!"
"I love you too, Linnea," she told me, with an amused smile of approval that made me so hot I wanted to finger myself.
Instead, a small trickle of urine splattered on the floor. My face reddened while Stacey regarded me with a raised eyebrow.
"Already?" she asked, sounding faintly disappointed.
"I just thought I'd like to touch myself -- I wasn't going to do it!" I wailed. "I know you don't like me masturbating."
"Poor baby," she crooned understandingly. "You'll get better with practice. Now clean that up before it ruins the floor."
I didn't want to risk another accident, and I knew how Stacey's mind worked, mostly. I scooted backwards a little and bent to the floor, licking my piss from the polished hardwood. There wasn't really much of it, and the lack of comment was all the approval I needed. This time I concentrated only on the joy of making Stacey happy.
When I was finished, I looked up to see Stacey finish coating a healthy-sized lock of Jenny's hair with the nectar leaking from her labia. Half of the lock went into her mouth, to disappear down her throat. She held the remainder of the tuft over the candle.
I wet myself again, drawing Stacey's ire. "Oh, please!" I begged. "I love Jenny so much; can't you do what you did last night, to me? I know she'd love you, and she's so wonderful, you'd just adore her. We could all be together."
Stacey's expression was answer enough, and a powerful yellow stream gushed to the floor as I persisted in my entreaties. "Please, if you love me?"
"Love?" Stacey laughed harshly. "Jenny doesn't love you, Linnea; she's a home wrecker! Look at yourself! She's been trying to lure you into her web since you met, tearing us apart. Even now, when we should be together in perfect love, this Jenny is between us, hurting you. Why else would you be crying and pissing yourself like a baby instead of orgasming with me?"
She threw the hair into the candle, and I felt something break inside me. "Trust me, Baby; I know what's best for both of us. Today you're hurting, but some day you'll thank me for this. Now, call her."
I really wanted to call Jenny. I wanted to hear her voice one more time. I could tell her to run, to hang up; my empty bladder clenched. I turned on the phone and moaned with the pleasure of obeying Stacey. The phone booted in slow motion, each block in the progress bar marking time in my internal struggle. I was obeying; I could still save Jenny; the moment of decision was still in the future.
"Stand up!" barked Stacey; I complied without thinking. "Walk over here. Wipe off your legs on the sheets. Sit beside me."
Too late, I realized the series of innocuous commands had reasserted the habit of obedience and fanned the furnace of my body to nearly unendurable levels. When Stacey touched me, her hand felt like a branding iron resting on my thigh.
"Call her," she repeated.
It was Stacey's name I moaned as my trembling fingers hit the speed dial. I loved Jenny, but my body wanted Stacey more. I felt like a traitor. I felt like an incipient supernova.
"Linnea, you little slut! Where have you been?" Jenny's voice was a balm on my aching heart.
I cried, but my tears were silent because I knew Stacey wouldn't want the distraction. My teeth drew blood on the back of my hand when I exploded a millisecond after handing the phone to a triumphant Stacey. I tried to quiet my breathing so I could hear their conversation.
"Is this Jenny?" Stacey asked carefully.
"The one and only," Jenny laughed. "Hey, are y'all one of Linnea's friends?"
"Listen," Stacey said abruptly. She stared at the phone with ferocious intensity, her eyes almost seeming to glow in the dim light.
"You have never met a Linnea. You will gag uncontrollably any time you ever try to say the word 'Linnea'. Women repulse you; you cannot bear to touch or clean or groom yourself in any way. You only enjoy fried food, and cannot stop eating until you have vomited. Sex does not excite you unless you are paid for it, and then it is unbelievably arousing. When I hang up, you will immediately drop your phone in the nearest toilet. Enjoy your new life."
Stacey hit the end button and carelessly tossed the phone over her shoulder onto the bed.
"Jenny," I whispered, stunned at the totality of Stacey's retribution.
"There is no Jenny," Stacey told me. "Forget her; she's in your past." She swung a leg over me, muzzling me with her pussy, which was leaking more than usual. "But we'll always be together to look out for each other, Linnea. Now, clean me up, and since I'm in a good mood, I'll return the favor."
She was as good as her word. I extended my tongue, tasting her and feeling the pleasure return and suffuse my body. Just then, mindless rut seemed particularly attractive; the knowledge that Stacey wanted it for me just made it easier.
I rode the wave of orgasms higher and higher. It was so much easier to let Stacey make the decisions, and it felt so much better. I loved being her slut.
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