She fell upon her side and then decided to stay like that, constraining her need for fulfillment in favor of the sweet torture of deferral. Let it be slow and lingering tonight, let it last a long time, let it make up for all that restlessness...
Fingers touched her. then lips oh. so gentle! a sign that her little maid had understood. The lips were turning the buds of her nipples into blossoms. She treasured the tender caresses, accepting (hem gratefully and yet with a certain languorous ease, as if they were no more than her rightful due.
CHAPTER ONE
Nerves aquiver with anticipation, Blythe Venable paced the floor of her room impatiently, much too jittery to sit down and relax. A familiar feeling these days, infrequent but still quite recognizable- regular as clockwork!-every time she came home for the weekend. It was always like this, a thing that began building up the minute she signed out from school and didn't ease off until they were alone together. Not that it "eased off then either, exactly, but the feeling sure became more bearable...
Well, no. Unbearable, of course. But in such a deliciously unbearable way! Wasn't that when the bomb reached its emotional limits and started to spark and sizzle? The beginning of the sweet explosion. Only she wished Raquel would hurry and light the fuse before all this back-and-forth pacing wore the carpet out. A nice thick carpet, luckily, and big too, with plenty of wall-to-wall maneuvering space in this nice big old room. No head-banging or shin-bumping, anyway. Ever so much nicer than those modernistic little cubbyholes back at the sorority house.
Hmm. Much cleaner, too, quite neat and orderly -except for her own newly made mess, Blythe noted with a grimace; the half-unpacked suitcase and its spilled-over jumble of soiled laundry looked like the remnant counter of a rummage sale. Slovenly, to say the least. But she was so used to leaving her clothes and things strewn about now, a habit that could only be blamed on the Maplemoor sorority system. In the Delta house there was always some little frosh fag-girl around to fetch and carry and reorganize the debris. Why put the poor darlings out of a job?
But there were no fag-girls here, only one sloppy and somewhat repentant second-year student. Blythe set to work with vigor if not much volition. After a while she felt like a kid again, making the place tidy and acceptable to the eagle eye of her governess. Ex-governess. Housekeeper. Maid? Oh shit, who could figure out Raquel's status nowadays? Less than a Venable, perhaps, but certainly more than a mere servant-and yet that new uniform of hers sure designated something pretty low in rank. A very sexy uniform, too, cut deep at the bodice and high at the hem, all satin-shiny black with a frilly little white apron for cute contrast. No matching frilly white cap, thank heaven-that would have been just too much! It was already too much, for that matter, the whole overdone lady's-maid getup, almost incongruous on someone like Raquel. Not that she wasn't a sexy old bitch underneath it-the sexiest!-but that tight-ass satiny stuff and cutesy-pie apron seemed pretty grotesque on her just the same. A coy soubrette in some antiquated French boudoir farce? Hardly the type.
It didn't make all that much-difference, of course, since Raquel was still the only faithful family retainer left and no frivolous new uniform was going to alter her solidly entrenched position in the household. Except maybe on the surface. But whether in governess gray or housekeeper grim or soubrette glossy, the old devil-darling would still be running the show in her own sly way. As usual. Just as she had always done, as far back as Blythe could remember-even when the place was teeming with hired help...
That damned will of Daddy's! All that money and they still couldn't afford another servant in the house; wasn't it absolutely pathetic? Oh well, all the more reason to be her own fag-girl on these weekends away from school. It made the waiting easier now, moving around like this and seeing immediate results, much better than pacing the floor aimlessly. She got conscientious and stooped to pick up some fuzz from the carpet, a loose thread, a hair?-black . hair unmistakably; it brought a kind of perspiry sensation breaking out on her skin. All over her body. Uncomfortably damp and sticky, too, a reminder to change into something less dressy and more practical. T-shirt and jeans, perhaps. If she could find cleans ones. Was there still time? Hmm. She didn't much care for the idea of pawing through closet racks and dresser drawers and creating another childish mess for Raquel to walk in on. Shorts and halter would be simpler to locate and quicker to slip into, no doubt.
Or panties and bra?
Blythe giggled at the notion. Funny. College girl or not, it still seemed daring to her, Only here, though, never in her room at school, only right here at home where her ex-governess could still make her feel like a naughty child. Hastily now, more keyed-up than ever, she shucked off her garments. Then, with the door deliberately left ajar, she began working again in panties and bra, aware of a pleasant sense of physical freedom.
She passed the full-length mirror and then turned back and stopped with a smile of glowing self-satisfaction, justly proud of the way her body had ripened this past year. Only she couldn't see the real ripeness with that brassiere on, of course. And the lines of the panties didn't do much for her, either, especially from the rear; they spoiled the "jutting out" look that made the plump cheeks of her ass so attractive. Anyway, weren't those the places where the perspiry feeling had broken out the most?
Giggling again, she cast an apprehensive glance toward the door and then peeled off the last two pieces. She worked a little more, avoiding the mirror momentarily and rather enjoying the intimate touch of the cool air. But it was only a matter of time before her reflected image caught her eye and grinned and all but beckoned for close-up attention. She gave it gladly-such a lovely image!-blue eyes and tousled taffy-blonde hair and a naked young body that oozed creamy sex from every smooth-skinned hill and hollow right down to the tips of her painted toenails...
"Admiring yourself, little cunt?" The voice stabbed like a knife from out of nowhere. "Vain little cunt... "
Blythe swung around, flushed with embarrassment and almost fearful of the suddenly ominous presence. The waiting was over, but on top of her familiar thrill of exhilaration came a fresh shock-wave, an extra charge-as though she sensed something exciting in the humiliation and fear too, somehow. Like a little girl once again, caught in some act of mischief and preparing herself for a scolding. Or worse. Even if there was no visible sign of either amusement or anger in that warmly appraising expression. Just love, mostly, but who could tell?
Posed there inside the doorway, Raquel looked small and slim and just a bit soft, despite all that underlying strength and capability. Or maybe it was only the new uniform bringing out the softness in her, showing more of her shapely legs and blurring some of the harsh angularity up above. Not that she didn't have a certain brunette-dark charm of her own, though-always with a suggestion of spicy femininity in her dark eyes and dark skin and dark cropped-mop curls. And always sexy, as far as Blythe was concerned, the one glorious guiding factor in her own sexy young life.
"Well, don't just stand there, come on in. Of course I'm a vain little cunt. What's in the package, something for me?"
"Never mind. You're vain enough already. Fresh, too. Smart-ass college girl-and not so little anymore, either. I swear, darling, that bush on your pussy gets bigger and shaggier every time I see you." Raquel set the bundle down on a chair and reached back to give the door a gentle push. "Bought you some new clothes, even though you don't deserve them. Such a rascal. Hmm. Maybe you do deserve them."
"Huh?"
"You'll find out. But not now. Later-when you unwrap it and see what I got for you-then you'll understand."
"Later? Oh. Hey, aren't you going to lock it? The door. It's not even shut all the way."
"Leave it like that. My day's work isn't over yet. I only came to bring the clothes and tell you when to __"
"Raquel? You-you're not staying?"
"A few minutes, that's all. I haven't finished taking care of your mother. Soon as she calls me, I'll have to run."
"She's not my mother... Oh shit, I figured you were getting off early tonight. You said to wait for you upstairs... "
"Don't whine. It was all for a purpose. So I could give you the new things and let you get ready to meet me later. Now stop sulking! And you needn't get so huffy about Ondine, either-it's not her fault. She's a darn good stepmother, if you ask me. And she does happen to be your only living relative. I thought you were learning to like her, anyway."
"Well... I'm trying to."
"So try harder. I want you two to get along, you hear?" Fire crackled in Raquel's tone. "You know how I feel about that!"
Blythe stared transfixed, fascinated by the fierce glow from those jet-black eyes. The thin but moistly sensuous lips remained parted, glistening, sexy even in a mood of reprimand. Sexier, maybe? With more than just a hint of menace, too... Like that body, small and slim but not quite so soft now, flashing a glimpse of the steel springs and wires that lurked inside. Scary. But not enough to bring instant capitulation. Wasn't the scary part fun, too?
"I know, I know. You keep telling me."
"Hmph! If ever a girl needed punishment... " Then, with a throaty little chortle, "We'll have time for that later, Blythe dear. Come and kiss me. I want your sweet tongue."
"Yours is sweeter. I'll trade mine for-"
"Hush. Mmm... "
"Ooh!"
"Quit wiggling."
"How can I help it? Oh shit, don't tease me... "
"But I like teasing you. And don't you like being teased? Of course you do. Your cunt is dripping already. So hot! Aren't you getting any action in that sorority of yours? Looks like you're bringing it all home to Raquel, hmm?"
"Frig me! Puck me with your hand!"
"Soft little pussy. Make it suck my finger. That's the way, that's my darling girl. You're going to be nice and hot for me later on, aren't you?"
"I-I'm hot now. Hot!"
"No, dear. Let's not get carried away. This is just something to think about until later. I've got to go, remember?"
Suddenly empty, Blythe sank to her knees and clutched with both arms, pressing her face into the scented belly-warmth that seemed to be welcoming her through two layers of fabric. And then only one layer, a wisp of nylon, as the short skirt was rucked up and she crouched low and tilted her head to gain fresh access.
"Careful, there. Don't be so anxious. No! No hands! Leave my panties alone, you little cuntlapper."
"Mmm? Please?"
"I said no! Outside the panties. Suffer!"
Blythe suffered. But it became a delicious kind of suffering as she nuzzled between the slightly spread thighs into the fragrance of the furry mound. Sharp tendrils of hair poked through the fragile net fabric to tickle her nostrils. She gathered some with her sucking lips, chewing and munching greedily, making the best of a not-so-bad bargain.
Then, from a distance, "Raquel?"
"Shit! She's calling me. No, don't get up, darling, it won't hurt her to wait. Listen now-about later- get dressed up in the new things for me, will you? Fix your hair nice and pretty, too, you'll see what I mean when you've got the outfit on. No rush, though, it'll be at least an hour before I can get away. But come to my room then, hmm? I'll be expecting-"
"Raquel!"
"That does it. I'd better run before she gets herself into a lather. On your feet now, let's have a loving good-bye kiss to tide us over till later. Come up here. Quickly! Uh-huh. Tongue. Love me, love me. Lick the inside of my mouth with your tongue... "
"Oh. Like this?"
"Mmm, just perfect. Once more and I'm off. Ah! Okay, now you can go admire yourself again. In the mirror. Don't be bashful, doll-baby, you've sure got something worth admiring."
The compliment was abrupt and unexpected, striking with a jolt of pure pleasure. Ecstatically giddy, Blythe closed the door and scurried back to the mirror. A hair clung to her lower lip, a crinkly black cunt-hair that had survived even the final farewell embrace, a memento of the past and a prophecy for the future. She let it stay there, ogling the lewd vision and shuddering rapturously. Lewd and yet beautiful beyond belief, somehow-her face, her beautiful young face with its stigma of wickedness. Flushed cheeks. A reflection of shining eyes. Lips pink and tremulous, still in the middle of a soul-kiss. Beautiful! In all her life she had never looked so radiantly beautiful...
Or so sexy!
Almost instinctively, one hand slid across the curve of a soft hip to seek out and soothe the leftover emptiness. She gasped and shut her eyes, finding another kind of beauty to concentrate on. Exquisite sensation! It was even better when she forgot her hand and thought of something else down there, a mouth, a face, the face of some sweet sorority sister. Meg's face? Mmm, yes, another task for her devoted little fag-girl. Alida's face would do just as well though, even without the incentive of duty or obligation.
Oh shit, why not both? A mouth sucking her cunt and a tongue up her ass-both at the same time!- wouldn't that be wild? What a story to bring home and tell to Raquel! One in front and one in back, and it didn't matter which did which. Just as long as they did it together...
Blythe moaned, swaying to the slow tempo of the hand caressing her cunt. Only it wasn't enough now; she brought the other hand to her lips and wet one finger and then "lipped it down behind her back. A single jab did the trick. She loosed a loud yelp, a groan, agonized but still undeterred, already feeling the renewed excitement, oh yes, she was frigging her cunt and her ass and staggering toward the bed, too hot to stand up any longer, too hot, too hot-and wasn't she lucky to have such a pair of eager lovers? Oooh, how they were doing it to her, those sweet sorority sisters, sucking her cunt and tonguing her asshole-sweet friend Alida and sweet fag-girl Meg- another minute of this and she would be creaming all over their sweet faces!
CHAPTER TWO
Gingerly, grateful for the support of her maid's strong arm and shoulder, Ondine Venable stepped into the tub and let her body settle. The water temperature was perfect. As she had known it would be. And for the umpteenth time she wondered how she had gotten along for so many years without Raquel. Or at least without this kind of service.
"Miz Ondine? Not too hot, is it?"
"Just right, dear. You never miss."
"Thanks. I'm pretty careful about things like that. Uh, shall I stay and help you bathe? It's been a long day and you must be all tuckered out. Oh! Your hair is loose in back, hold still and let me fix it. Gotta take care of this gorgeous red hair... "
Ondine bent her head, smiling at the obvious flattery. There was some truth in it, of course, she did have nice hair, an asset to any woman. Long and lustrous and naturally wavy, a deep auburn that retained its rich and vivid hue with no aid whatsoever from commercial dyes and such-her best feature, perhaps, now that this body of hers was beginning to thicken. Hmm. Too bad her flesh couldn't spring back into shape with that same lively resiliency; wasn't it all made out of the same stuff anyway, all protein?
Not that she was fat, exactly, just getting a bit plump in the wrong places-pampered, what else?- too much tummy, a trifle flabby around the thighs. But why bother? It was a small price to pay, scarcely a dent in the voluptuous enjoyment of this new way of life. And now that she had given up men, well...
"All fixed. Ma'am? You want me to stay?"
Ondine nodded, slipping low in the tub and floating one leg to the surface lazily, content to lie still and let herself be fussed over. How nice! Even now her enamored little maidservant was bending to soap the exposed foot eagerly, as though the menial chore was some sort of reward.
"I-I just hope you're not too tuckered out tonight, ma'am."
"Umm, a bit sleepy."
"Oh. I was kind of hoping... "
The wistful voice faded, melting Ondine's heart as the busy fingers continued to woo her in silence. She watched from beneath drooping eyelids, keenly aware of her own involvement with this strange and sometimes unpredictable creature. Raquel had sharply defined features that made her appear shrewd and calculating at first glance, hardly an accurate impression. And yet who could tell what went on in that worldly-wise mind of hers? She was small and wiry, the hyperactive type, a woman of vast experience who just didn't show her age. Even the all but indecent new uniform didn't reveal her secret; on the contrary, she seemed more youthful than ever. Ondine simply couldn't picture her as a governess. The stern housekeeper image had blurred too this past year, no more than a vague memory now. That must have been someone else, another Raquel Griggs, not this lithe handmaiden who lavished such tender loving care upon her adored mistress. A somewhat sad little handmaiden at the moment, though. Time for a word of cheer.
"You mustn't ever stop hoping, dear. I'm not that sleepy, at least not yet. But I soon will be, if you don't do something to wake me up. You know. Talk to me, hmm? I get aroused so easily these days."
"Uh-huh. Oh. About the kid?"
"Well.
"Miz Ondine? Better not deny it. I noticed the way you were looking at her tonight."
"Did you? No sense denying it, then. My own stepdaughter, of all people-isn't that awful?"
"Awful." Oh, sure. Go ahead, enjoy your guilty conscience, but don't expect any sympathy from me."
"Heartless wretch. And it's all your fault, too. Ever since you told me... " Ondine shivered. "Blythe and her little friend from school, imagine! I still can't believe it. And she really broke down and confessed afterward?"
"No, ma'am, I never said that. No breakdown. It didn't sound much like a confession, either, just a simple statement of fact-more like a matter of pride, almost. Proves she's popular with her sorority sisters. Others, too, not just one weekend guest she brought home."
"Hmm. Fine way to gain popularity. But what's done is done, I suppose. And she'll probably keep on doing it, too."
"Exactly what I've been telling you. Why not have a little fun with her yourself? Get everything out in the open, you know? You'd be closer than any ordinary mother and daughter, I'll bet."
"Closer? Just how close do you think-"
"Aw, come on, Miz Ondine, wouldn't you like to have that pretty face of hers between your legs? Soft little mouth. Right here, this close... "
"Oooh! You're so bold tonight!"
"Too bold? Ma'am? If you'd rather I didn't touch-"
"Silly girl. Touch me, touch me. And talk to me, Raquel, I just love that. Makes me feel so wicked!"
"Glad to hear it. That's how to get the most fun out of life. Being wicked. Wicked and wonderful. Like this. Feel it?"
"Mmm, wonderful. The things you do to me... "
"That's because I know what a woman needs, a woman like you, Miz Ondine-especially you-a young and healthy woman who can't afford to play around with men. So just keep taking my advice. I haven't steered you wrong yet, have I?"
"No. Never. Not even when I didn't trust you, remember? I'm still indebted to you for straightening me out that first time. When I think of the scandal that could have broken-"
"That's ancient history now. Forget it. But if you just want to do some remembering, well-remember what a prude you used to be? Remember how you thought I was doing something dirty? We couldn't even talk to each other, right?"
"I remember, I remember. You're absolutely right. No, not quite. It's still dirty. Only I'm not a prude any longer,, so the dirtier the better! Touch me some more."
"Sure. Talk, too? Talk some more?"
"Uh-huh. But touch me, Raquel."
"Where?"
"You know where."
"Say it, say it, I like to hear you say it!"
"What a monster you are! It still embarrasses me. But if you insist... " Ondine's voice fell to a choked whisper. "Touch my cunt. Touch it. My cunt. Cunt!" A heat infused her flesh, an excitement that flared up from the sound of her own words as much as from the invading fingertip. "Oh, you do love me! How you love to pet me... "
"And kiss you."
"And kiss me, yes, you love to kiss me."
"And suck your cunt... "
"Ah!"
"And make you happy. Happy in every possible way, even in ways I can't do myself. Wouldn't you like to see Blythe doing those things for you, too? That's something to think about, huh? Pretty face between your legs... "
Pretty face. A shudder rippled through Ondine's flesh. Pretty face between her legs! Such an innocent face, though, out of place in this atmosphere of scented sensuality. Soft pink lips like the budding petals of a dew-damp rose. But despite a certain teenage gawkiness, that young body didn't show much innocence. Those sexy legs. Breasts. Buttocks too, such saucy buttocks, swaying and jiggling and rubbing together like separate halves of a well-oiled machine. No! It was wrong, all wrong; even in the dark recesses of her mind, ,she couldn't see herself going to bed with her stepdaughter. Good grief, it would almost be incest, wouldn't it?
And yet she had to accept the realization that such a thing wasn't so terribly farfetched. The recesses of her mind were dark indeed, darker than she had suspected. Anyway, it was something to be examined with a clear head, not now.
"Enough, dear. Raquel? Finish bathing me."
"Oh. Yes, ma'am."
"I'm thinking about Blythe. About what you told me. It must be that school she goes to, it's more like a finishing school than a college. Maplemoor. They're very strict about boys, so the girls simply learn to do without them, I suppose. Hmm. I did the same thing myself, remember?"
"Uh-huh. Sure did. And you haven't regretted it, either."
It was true. Ondine had no regrets on that score; she felt safe now, safe from the taint of scandal. After a few months of painfully frustrating widowhood, she had embarked on an affair with a man from a neighboring city, becoming a subject for gossip almost immediately. She broke it off with some persuasion and help from Raquel-her housekeeper at the time-and they managed to end the local gossip before any real damage came to the highly respected Venable name. And since she couldn't marry because of the terms of the will, what else was there to do but find some other means of sexual satisfaction?
That was when Raquel Griggs, of her own choosing, stepped down from her lofty position as house-keeper to become, a lowly maid. A personal maid. A very personal maid, and Ondine had soon learned the joys of being pampered by her ardent little servant. Regrets? Oh no, she loved all this luxury and saw no reason to do without it. After all, she certainly rated such treatment now, the fourth wife and only surviving widow of a wealthy man. Hubert J. Venable, a very wealthy man in his day-and virile, too; a veritable dynamo in bed. Who could begrudge a little plain and fancy pampering to his bereaved bedmate? Pamper me, do!
"All done, ma'am. Want to come out now?" Then, offering her arm in deferential assistance, "Oh, you're so beautiful! Your skin is all pink and rosy... "
"That's because I'm blushing, more than likely., And don't you dare ask me why, you devil!"
The fluffy towel enfolded bath-warmed flesh solicitously, and Ondine reveled in the sensation. She planted her feet on the bathmat, feeling almost regal as the indefatigable little maid plied the nappy fabric over her. Like some empress of a bygone era attended by her personal body-slave. But such a daring little slave! Ondine quivered as a soft cheek brushed her thigh. Throughout ,the work there were fleeting caresses in one spot or another to sustain the aura of sexual excitement.
It was scarcely necessary. The fire inside her couldn't have been quenched by anything less than a full-fledged orgasm. But there was a special pleasure in prolonging the wait and postponing the final ecstasy, and she made no attempt to interfere with the coquettish maneuvers. Instead she forced herself to appear calm, aloof from the artfully playful courtship. Oh, she had learned so much from this clever maid of hers! Sex wasn't dirty, oh no, it was a delightful game and this was the way to play it...
"Am I still rosy pink, Raquel?"
"Yes'm. Beautiful. Still blushing, hmm?"
"Uh-huh. And you don't have to ask why; I'm sure you already know. I keep thinking about Blythe."
"I'm glad. I've got to admit it, Miz Ondine, it would make me happy to see you two real close. Close as mother and daughter. But that's not the only-"
"Closer, you said, didn't you?"
"Closer. That's right. But there's something else, too. It's about time you tried some new kind of fun- with somebody besides me, I mean. I'm only a servant. I love you and I'll never get tired of you, Miz Ondine-I swear it!-but just the same I know you deserve something more, something better. Someone like Blythe, young and pretty and all bubbling over with energy."
"I wonder. We've never been chummy. The things you say may be true, but I wouldn't even know how to begin."
"You don't have to know how. That's what you've got me for, isn't it? If you want the kid, I'll arrange everything."
"Can you? I don't quite see... "
"Just leave it to me. I'm still like a governess to her, in a way. I'll fix it. Maybe even this weekend. All for you, ma'am. Because you've been so good to me. I'd do just anything to make you happy."
For a moment Ondine had the impression that the little maid was overly anxious about convincing her. Raquel sounded almost glib. But too much had been said already; fantastic as it was, the idea seemed utterly fascinating. So sexy! Young and pretty and bubbling with energy...
"Ma'am? Bedtime?"
"In a minute. Do that again."
"Hmm? What?"
"What you just did. With your tongue."
"Tell me. I don't remember."
"Oh, you're getting impossible! Must I say it? Isn't kissing my cunt enough for you?"
"Mmm... yes... your hot cunt... "
Ondine swayed precariously, her limbs turning limp with the fresh rise of passion. Then, resolutely, she tore herself free of the leeching lips and swung around to start staggering cut of the bathroom. Strong arms caught and supported her, giving her renewed strength of her own; side by side now, like dancers in pantomime, they took measured steps toward the bed and at last sank into its inviting softness.
The slender little body twisted fluidly and Ondine sighed as the dark head glided between her thighs, luxuriating in the magic of that marvelous tongue. She drifted into a near-swoon, her entire entity concentrated in that one kiss-sentient nook. Pleasure burgeoned slowly, slowly, as if it was being sucked and drained from somewhere deep within her flesh. She thought of Blythe again, that smooth-cheeked young face bestowing a shower of sweet-lipped kisses down there. That girlish little mouth, wouldn't it be a thrill? But she couldn't expect miracles, of course, it was bound to be amateurish and unskilled, nothing like the seasoned and almost clinically proficient technique that was already lifting her toward climactic heights. Oh, there was no one like Raquel! No youthful frenzy here, no hectic gymnastics, just love and loyalty and an all-important need to give service and satisfaction. If ever a maidservant truly revered her mistress...
"Miz Ondine? Soon? Come in my mouth?"
"Soon, soon. And then you'll turn the light off and just tiptoe out, hmm? Put me to sleep, dear."
"Mmm... now... love your cunt... "
Ah yes, this was the way to live. Ondine's dilatory mood evaporated as the peak of pleasure approached with rather alarming velocity. Her flesh was vibrating to every probe and lick of that eager-to-please tongue. She was almost there. She couldn't wait. No, she just couldn't stave it off any longer and she had to arch up and grind herself against that hot mouth and wondrously agile tongue; she couldn't hold back, she just couldn't-and with a shriek that all but shattered her own eardrums, Ondine went into the rapturous convulsion of her climax and left the world behind as the dark velvet curtain of oblivion descended.
CHAPTER THREE
With a glance at the clock, Blythe sat up and tried to shake off her languorous daze. It wasn't easy, though, not after that crazy two-handed solo session, and at last she rose to her feet somewhat listlessly and padded into the bathroom to sting herself awake under the pelting shower. That did it. Just being there had an immediately bracing effect; it was a welcome change from sorority-style living- her own private bathroom, no shrill voices just outside the door, no intrusion upon her solitude. And big, too, much larger than the one she shared with Alida at school. But the whole house was like that, of course, with space enough for a small army, far too much for three people to rattle around in. Even the maid had a sizeable bedroom and bath of her own on this same upper story.
Maid. Oh sure. Some maid! Grinning now, Blythe toweled herself dry briskly and scampered back out to get ready for her late date, exhilarated by the prospect. The package was still unopened, but she felt no more than mildly curious about its contents. New clothes didn't really mean that much to her, even though they were a gift from Raquel. But the orders had been pretty specific nonetheless, and she cut the string and peeled the wrapping away.
A fit of giggles came over her. Surprise! Who could have figured something like this? A middy blouse and a short pleated skirt. Tiny white socks and a pair of sub-teen shoes, black patent leather flats with a single cross-strap, quite juvenile-almost too childish even for a child. And bloomers! Real bloomers, not panties, strictly old-fashioned but trimmed with ruffled lace edges, very dainty, the kind of bloomers a little girl might wear to a birthday party. Oh, that Raquel; no wonder she had threatened a punishment! This was sure the outfit for it, and the threat seemed more like a definite promise now.
The things were cute, admittedly, and yet Blythe couldn't help but recognize the underlying stark significance of this fanciful gift. It fit the pattern. The older she grew, the more obvious it became-her, ex-governess had some freaky notion about keeping her young. Like trying to turn the clock back almost, all the way back to the beginning of their relationship, somewhere around the time of Daddy's second wife. That was when the newly hired gray-gowned governess had an unruly little girl to take care of, a spoiled brat who needed the firm hand of a disciplinarian. And a spanking meant a spanking, not a prelude to sex.
But those days were gone and should have been forgotten by now; why try to relive them? Once in a while Raquel even found fault for no reason at all, ... just an excuse to do some ass-whacking. Not that she whacked so terribly hard. And it always did lead to sex now-a kind of off-beat kick, a way of turning herself on-so Blythe really didn't mind. It \vas just a small sacrifice, considering how they felt about one another. And more often than not, just playing the part to please her dear old friend, she would pick up the mood and get right into the spirit of things, a hot little cuntlapper with a heated-up ass to make her hotter. It was more fun when that happened-and easier, too!-well worth whatever effort might be necessary to gain a sense of total participation.
Like now, for instance. She spread the new garments out upon the bed, giggling again as a hidden item came into view, a hair-ribbon peeping from the pocket of the blouse. Such a cute little snip of pink; now she knew what Raquel had meant about fixing her hair. She stood in front of the mirror and experimented, trying it until the effect seemed just right.
Yes, perfect. But only the hairdo, not the rest of her. Naked, she looked more like a woman than a little girl, a beautiful young woman-certainly no hardship, but not exactly in keeping with the ribbon on her head, much less the clothing she was about to don for her date. Wasn't there something she could do to turn the beautiful woman into a beautiful little girl? Something to prepare herself in body and perhaps in spirit? All that cunt hair. Underneath those dainty bloomers she would still be pretty grown up. Unless... well...
Oh shit, did she dare? And could it be done quickly? She sure didn't want to keep Raquel waiting-it might easily provoke a more severe punishment. But despite the consequences, nothing would feel right until the daring deed was completed. Down to the last bristly follicle. What a lark!
She took a pair of scissors from the bureau and returned to the bathroom. Plying them carefully, she got the shaggy part off and then went to work on the rest. Soap lather first, the razor next, the one she wielded with such adroit abandon when doing her legs and underarms. It turned out to be quite difficult, though, especially down below, an unfamiliar operation in an almost inaccessible area. A slip could lead to disaster. Or bloodshed, at least-no way to treat a little girl's precious little pussy! She couldn't risk doing a thorough job there, leaving a goodly bit of fuzz behind, but elsewhere all went well. Slick. Or so she discovered after a hasty rinse, a rub of the towel and a few dabs of powder; ah, how soft and smooth! Like the littlest of little girls, a baby pussy, just right.
Back in front of the mirror again, she was even more pleased by the results. Such a change! Even her breasts seemed less mature now somehow. As if shaving that one place had affected her entire body. She could hardly wait to show it off. And the hoped -for mood was coming on, too, the mood to suit the occasion, that nice "naughty little girl" feeling...
"Blythe?"
"Oh! I'll be there in a minute, Raquel."
"Well, hurry it up."
Blythe pouted. She wanted to put the new clothes on slowly, piece by piece, checking each one in the process. But it was too late for that. Too late to stop and admire herself in the lovely bloomers. No, she had to finish and get going before her governess got mad enough to come and drag her out by the ear.
"Hey! Blythe!"
"Coming, coming... " She threw a kiss to the beautiful angel in the mirror and scurried away.
"It's about time, young lady." In a loose wrapper, Raquel was seated on a chair, a motherly but still stern figure. "Just what took you so long?"
"I... uh... it's a surprise."
"Oh? A surprise, eh? I hope it's a good one. Keeping me waiting like that... "
"I'm sorry. What can I do to make up for it?"
"Hmm. I was about to take a bath. Go start the tub and then come right back."
Blythe hastened obediently, somewhat puzzled by the lack of comment on her appearance. Raquel acted as if she hadn't even noticed what her little girl was wearing. Wasn't she going to say anything about it?
With the water gushing full blast, Blythe left the bathroom and postured coyly in search of a compliment. "Thanks for the new clothes. They're so nice -and a perfect fit, too, don't you think so?"
"You're being vain again, my dear. Of course they fit. Didn't I pick them out for you myself?"
"Oh... "
"Enough of this nonsense. Come here. Your surprise-whatever it may be-is no excuse for tardiness. I'll just have to impress that upon your weak little mind."
"Y-yes, ma'am."
"And upon your bottom!"
"Oh! You-you're going to-"
"Right now. This very instant! Over my lap, young lady."
Any protest would have only made it worse in the long run and Blythe rushed to comply with the command, pulling the pleated skirt up as she clambered into position. The bloomers would be coming down shortly, so the spanking did have its compensations; she was just dying to see the reaction to her shaved skin. And when the firm hand began walloping, she squirmed eagerly and prayed for the moment to arrive, the moment for the big surprise.
But the flailing hand continued without a pause; she soon found herself squirming to ease her smarting buttocks and then even hoping that the protection of the bloomers would remain. Not that the thin stuff was much protection. Far from it. Oh shit, she had never been spanked so hard! Hard enough to draw tears. She could feel them welling up in her eyes...
Then, abruptly, "There! That should do it for now, my dear child. But I'm not through with you yet. I'm stopping only because the tub might run over."
Blythe rose gingerly. "I'll go fix it."
"You'll do nothing of the kind. I'm going to take my bath now and you can just stand in the corner and wait for me. Right over there. And while you're waiting, just remember there's a lot more to come."
More? A lot more! Blythe shuddered and went to the corner to stand facing the wall, tears now streaming down her cheeks. Tears of humiliation, mostly, but mingled with a strange happiness, even a kind of gratitude; after all, wasn't it good for a naughty little girl to be punished? Besides, the bloomers hadn't been hauled down yet and that was bound to happen this next time.
She stood there for what seemed like ages and at last heard the sound of returning footsteps. Timidly she stayed put, not even glancing around, just rubbing her backside with one hand and dabbing at the dry but sticky tears with the knuckles of the other. Raquel was naked now, no doubt, warm and sexy after her bath-something to see and touch and taste!-but Blythe had learned to control her impatience. And yet the waiting was all part of the excitement too, even though it was almost agonizing to be so close and feel so far away. It hurt as much as any spanking, in a way, but it had that same nice tingly effect-only not in the same place, of course. At least not exactly, no, it made her tingle all over. She got a funny feeling just licking her lips and thinking about that unseen naked body. That hairy cunt...
"All right, Blythe."
"Ma'am?"
"Come here. And bring the hairbrush."
The hairbrush! Ouch! She could feel it already. Even before it began. And then, a moment later, she got the real thing and felt it like never before. So hard! When the bloomers were finally yanked down to her knees, she was crying again, bawling now, much too concerned with her own plight to watch for any reaction. Until the spanking eased up and she heard a chuckle.
"Little imp! So that's your surprise."
"Is-is it okay?"
"Stand up. Let me check. Uh-huh. Pretty little peehole. Keep it like that always, will you? But it could be a lot smoother, I'd say, especially way down here." Raquel's fingers explored intimately.
"I know. I was afraid I'd cut myself. Honest, do you really want me to keep it shaved? Maybe I ought to buy an electric... "
"A sharp blade is better. Anyway, if you're not using an electric razor on your legs, you probably won't like it on your cunt. Why don't you get one of your sorority friends to shave you?"
"Huh? You mean it? Oh, I couldn't ask anybody to-"
"Don't ask her, tell her. How about that little fag-girl of yours, the one you brought home for the weekend that time? Meg. The kid practically worships you, doesn't she? If she can suck your cunt, she can learn to shave it. And be glad of the job, I'll bet. A thing like that can get pretty sexy, you know, just as sexy as a suck or a belly-rub sometimes. So why don't you try breaking her in, darling? Just to see what happens."
"I will. Wow! She'd be like a slave, almost. Come to think of it, she acts like that toward me already."
"Good girl. I'll expect a smooth pussy next visit. Mmm. It's fine now, too, so nice and soft. And you did it just to please me, didn't you? Sweet child. You must love me very much, hmm?"
"I do love you, I really do!" Blythe bit her lips to hold back a wail as the fingertips stopped skimming the surface and wriggled into her flesh. "Oooh... "
"Getting hot, dear? Hot for Raquel's cunt?"
"Hot. Let me suck it. Suck your cunt, let me, let me!"
"Not yet. No! Stay where you are. I'm going to find out if you're telling the truth about how much you love me. You're my own darling girl-and always obedient when it's 'important-but would you obey me even if you thought I was asking too much? What if it was something you hated; do you love me enough for that?"
"I-I couldn't hate... " The fluttering fingertips had her all unstrung; she caught the slim wrist and clutched it to her jutting middle desperately. "Just tell me, that's all. Whatever it is, whatever you want me to do... "
"All right. I want you to be nice to someone. A woman. I want you to go to bed with her, that's how nice. Even if it's someone you're not exactly crazy about. You'll do it if you love me-is that reason enough?"
"Oh. Someone I'm not... " Then, "Oh! You mean Ondine?"
"Yes, darling. Ondine. I want you to suck her cunt."
"But-but"
"No buts. And never mind the details. Just take my word for it, she's ready. She knows about you. too, a little anyway, about you and the kid from school-so it's not going to come as a shock to her. Or to you either now. No shock, no embarrassment, just two people doing what comes naturally. And making this house a better place to live in, I might -add. A fun place, not a goddamn mausoleum! A place to bring your friends and feel at ease, absolutely safe-no worries, no questions asked. Wouldn't you like to have weekend guests more often? I'll bet you'd be coming home every weekend then, not just once in a while to see your old governess. Uh-huh. Hey! A hot party every weekend, how's that sound to you?"
"I-I just don't... oh shit, I can't even think!"
"Poor baby. Too much for you, hmm? My fault. Too much in one gulp. All right, darling, I know just the remedy for that-here's something else to gulp. My cunt! Now!"
Blythe dropped to a crouch, already drunk on the musk-tinged female odor rising from the body that was naked and warm and sexy after the bath and all that exertion. She grazed the skin with her lips and then slid her open mouth down over the taut, slightly domed little belly. Strands of black hair cropped up to invade her nose, her nostrils; she inhaled again, deeply, and succumbed to the dizzy wave, hanging on only enough to guide herself through the thicket and then down under to come up just inside the soft lips. Enticing lips! She burrowed in now, following the tip of her outstretched tongue into the crevice between the soft slippery lips, rolling her face from side to side to squeeze in deeper, moaning aloud and then muffling the moan in the fleshy and uniquely satisfying depths of Raquel's soft slippery cunt...
There was a certain familiar peace to be enjoyed there, and Blythe felt her head clear. Not that thinking became easy, but at least she didn't have to stand on her wobbly legs and cope with the distracting influence of those wiggle-worm fingers squirming around. Anyway, the moment of clarity helped, casting out resentment in favor of reason. She bore no grudge against her stepmother. How could she hate a woman who wanted her in bed? It was something to be proud of, in a kind of perverted way, even though Ondine herself was no prize package. Too fat. Not sloppy, exactly, but still a lard-ass, still a blowzy type-like an overgrown pink doll, actually. But with a doll's face, too, all smiles and dimples and big brown eyes and the longest dark red hair-not bad for an aging widow. Especially a widow with a chronic case of frustration, stuck with the illustrious Venable name and unable to marry or move away without losing her rightful chunk of the illustrious Venable fortune. No wonder she was looking for some nice quiet all-in-the-family fun!
"Blythe... "
"Hmm?"
"Something else you ought to know. About you and me-we won't have to keep that a secret if you get cozy with Ondine. No more sneaking around late at night. It won't happen right away, of course, we'll still be discreet as ever for a while, just to be sure. But that shouldn't take very long... " Then, "Hey! Didn't you hear me? Wouldn't that be great?"
"Umm. Great. So we can be together more, huh?"
"That's right. So we can be together, you little cuntlapper! Maybe even sleep together, fall asleep sucking and wake up sucking, just what a horny little girl needs to keep her happy. Horny little cuntlapper... "
The prospect sounded promising, but Blythe was too involved in the immediate present, uttering a tiny cry of enthusiasm as the hairy lips stretched open to suck her in again. Such a hot slithery sensation! Gripped by excitement, she slipped a hand down to cup and cuddle herself between the legs. It stunned her momentarily, the unexpected smoothness-no hair-all but forgotten in the heat of her lovemaking. She just didn't feel like a little girl any more, hair or no hair; wasn't she supposed to be a horny little cuntlapper? With a smooth-shaven baby pussy that would need a steady hand with the razor from now on, though, regularly and often. Even when when she was a big girl, a horny cuntlapper, her real self! Now if Raquel would only quit fooling around with that silly pink ribbon up there. And what was she talking about? Ondine again?
Deep within the moist cleft, Blythe recognized this new claim on her attention and nodded her head in agreement now and then, not uninterested, just unwilling to defer and perhaps deflate the rising swell of her pleasure. Lapping and listening kept her busy, almost too busy, but there were advantages too as the intoxication of one was made more potent by the stimulation of the other. She didn't mind the subject now or even the rather explicit instructions that practically took her participation for granted; oh shit, she would do it, of course, she would suck her stepmother's cunt-that was for sure-just as sure as she was going to make a slave out of her favorite little fag-girl...
CHAPTER FOUR
Oh, it was depraved, utterly depraved! Could she live with such a thing on her conscience? But the very thought was unbearably ecstatic, and Ondine struggled to calm herself. What she needed now was one of her maid's soothing treatments. Only it wouldn't be fair to wake her up, of course, especially after that deliberately slow and conspicuous exit. Raquel had gone to bed early with a headache, but only after a few well-timed complaints and a final announcement, making sure her withdrawal for the rest of the night would be noticed by both other parties to this apparent conspiracy.
Ondine twitched restlessly. The nipples of her breasts were stiff and swollen and uncomfortably tense. She touched them and almost jumped out of her skin, terribly aware of the tingling under her fingertips. One way or another, she needed something tonight, even if she had to do it herself. As a relief from insomnia, if nothing else. Like those lonely months after Hubert passed away-masturbation for the sake of her health, a bare minimum of solace for the poor widow in her hour of grief. Hardly a titillating prospect at this stage of her sexual development, though! Not even with the provocative image of that sweet young face flashing in front of her eyes...
Hmm. With that in mind, why not renew the image? Why not go over and drop in just to say good-night? And to form a first-hand opinion, at least, a judgment based on her own personal estimate and appraisal, not just hearsay. To help her decide whether to pursue the issue at some future date, perhaps, still a vague if somewhat dubious possibility. And meanwhile, just to enhance tonight's bleak outlook, she could be collecting a whole album of amusing new impressions to stimulate her erotic imagination afterward.
Anyway, it was time they cemented the family ties. And what harm could come from an intimate little chat? Ondine went into action resolutely, preparing herself for the impetuous venture, a prolonged but necessarily painstaking procedure that touched on all points and left nothing to chance. Her hair and makeup, especially, got an exhaustive overhaul, and even the choice of a suitably attractive robe and matching mules was made only after extended scrutiny. Then, in a rush of anticipatory fervor, she swept through the hall and at last tapped on her stepdaughter's door.
"Yes?" The voice from within sounded softly, almost flutelike in its sweetness. "Who's there?"
"It's me. Ondine. May I come in?"
"Oh. Sure. Come on in."
Ondine pushed the door open. Astounded, she stood there for an interminable moment, her feet rooted to the floor. Blythe was naked. Completely. All she wore was a mildly concerned expression on her face. Which seemed like scant coverage indeed for such a deliciously alluring young body. More remarkable yet was the sight of her pubic mound, almost lewdly spectacular, its gleaming perfection un-marred by even the slightest sign of hair. No fuzz at all. not even a shadow at the curved dip of her belly. Just that prominent little mound, smooth, sleek, the pale-cream skin bisected by a single vertical line, the pink-tinged cleft...
"Guess I goofed, huh?" The girl's tone held a noticeable lilt, still sweetly melodic. "Sorry. I should have put something on."
But she made no move to reach for a garment, unabashed even in her apology. Nor could Ondine suggest anything that might smack of criticism; all that unaffected candor was just too charming! She felt weak and vulnerable in the presence of such be-witchingly nude beauty, but that didn't matter. Crossing the threshold had set her down in another world, a journey into enchantment; why not enjoy the scenery?
"Don't bother on my account, dear." She nudged the door shut behind her. "I just came for a little chat. Please go on with whatever you were doing, won't you?"
"Okay " Blythe swung toward the mirror and began brushing her hair with practiced strokes, evidently a resumption of her interrupted activity. "Anything special you want to talk about?"
"Umm, no, not exactly. I just thought it would be nice to spend some time together, just the two of us. We never do, you know. And since it was your father's wish, well, I think we could mean more to each other than in the past. More than just two people sharing the same house, anyway."
"Oh. You figure that's what Daddy wanted?"
"I'd say so, yes, Legally, of course, he just wanted to make sure you wouldn't have to grow up without someone to look after you. So he made the terms of his will pretty specific-even to the point of putting us on a budget, darn near, just to keep the bulk of the estate intact. Making it more of an incentive, naturally, the stocks and properties increasing in value and the money piling up year after year-always out of reach, though. That crafty business brain of his worked like a computer."
"Uh-huh. Sure did. But I've never understood about the money we're living on. That stays the same every year, doesn't it? What if some big emergency came up, something real bad-couldn't we go broke and lose the house just because of a few thousand-"
"No, dear. Nothing like that can ever happen. You weren't worried, I hope. If so, you should have asked me, I'd have been glad to explain. In an emergency I can always contact your father's old lawyer -the executor, his title is--and the law allows him to bend the rules a little. No, it's only those things that pertain to us personally that are so ironclad. You know. Like living here together until your twenty-fifth birthday. Or the marriage clause, for instance, the one that says I can't remarry till then. Hmph! By the time you're twenty-five I'll be too old to get a husband. I probably won't even want one."
"I'm in the same boat, Ondine. I can't get married until I'm twenty-five either, otherwise my share of the money goes to charity just like yours. I kind of figured that was just to keep me from running off and eloping, though. After that many wives, Daddy just didn't believe in rushing into marriage. Me neither, now. I feel the same as you do about it, I'm not even interested. Hey, maybe you and I ought to marry each other, huh?"
"Silly ..."
Blythe giggled, angling away from the mirror but still plying the hairbrush. "You're blushing. You embarrassed or something?"
"Hush. We were having a serious discussion."
"Too serious. I'd rather see you blush. It's pretty. Kind of weird, though, I mean at your age, blushing like a young-"
"Oh, do be quiet!" Quite conscious of the color in her cheeks, Ondine strove for a semblance of dignity. "I blush easily, so what? I'm not exactly an old woman, you know. When you talk like that, you make me feel like a grandmother."
"Okay, okay, don't get so excited. Only if you're blushing-I like that kind of excitement. The pretty kind."
"Must you tease me? Oh well, I suppose that's better than being called an old woman. At least you're not thinking of me as the motherly type. That I couldn't take."
"Motherly type, oh sure-now who's silly? You're much too pretty for that. Much too beautiful... " Then, "Hey, you're blushing again, even prettier than before. Beautiful!"
The surging heat had her cheeks aglow, but Ondine didn't mind at all, not while that blast of pleasure was still jolting her bubbly insides with successive shock-waves. Beautiful? It was the sweetest thing that sweet child could have said-a compliment indeed, coming from such a beauty.
"Thank you, darling. You're far more beautiful yourself, but I'm glad you appreciate me." Ondine smiled happily. "And I could kiss you for saying so."
"Could you? Really?"
"Oh.
"Well, what are you waiting for?"
Impulsively, almost instinctively, Ondine opened her arms and took a step toward the nude little angel. Blythe set the hairbrush down at last, blue eyes bright with promise. Another step and then they were together. Mouth upon mouth. Ondine nearly swooned with the indescribable delight of it. She could feel the young body quivering in the warmth of her embrace. Even after the kiss ended, it remained there and went on snuggling as the sweet face dipped and nestled against her breasts.
Ondine's fingers spread over the softness of the delicate back and shoulders. The scent of perfume drifted and hung like an enveloping cloud, redolent of crushed flowers. For one small instant she felt as if her arms were holding a baby, a dainty girl-child, cuddlesome and affectionate. Such a sweet cherub...
But this was no baby, no baby's body, naked. The excitement brought a twinge of remorse, a sudden sensation of wrongdoing. It was madness, yes, a kind of madness had come upon them both, but Ondine was too far gone to care. Let it happen. The downward path into depravity was steep, and she could see no way of getting off. No exit. But who wanted to get off anyway?
"Darling. Oh, I feel so wicked! Seducing my own stepdaughter, my own child, practically. Wicked, wicked...
The nude figure stiffened abruptly and broke out of the embrace with a brusque shove. Ondine was left teetering in mute shock, her empty arms limp and dangling.
"Wicked? You mean like a pervert or something? You think we're a couple of perverts?"
"Oh... no... "
"What, then?" Blythe had turned to step away swiftly and toss herself down upon the bed, almost a gesture of dismissal. "Sure sounded like that to me. Wicked. Hah!"
"But don't you see, darling? That's what makes it so terribly exciting! The wickedness of it, the wicked feeling of-" Shaking her head, searching for words that wouldn't come, Ondine followed and all but collapsed on the edge of the bed in a state of panic. "Oh, how can I explain it... "
"Never mind. I think I understand."
"Do you? I hope so. Friends again?"
"Uh-huh. Friends."
"A kiss then? Another sweet kiss, darling, hmm?"
"N-no.
"No? Blythe, what's the matter?"
"Well. What you said. After all, you're my stepmother, we really are related. I guess that does make us kind of bad."
"Bad? Hmm, perhaps you're right. But that's what I've been trying to tell you, in a way, aren't the bad things in life the most fun?" Ondine saw it as an opening and forged ahead desperately, taking an aggressive tack. "Let me show you. We'll do something bad together, something nice and wicked-and I'm wicked even to suggest it, hmm? Oh, I must be wicked through and through. See for yourself, though, touch me, touch this wicked body of mine!"
"Oh,... "
"Give me your hand, darling. Come. Don't be bashful. Mmm, yes, such a soft little hand. Touch me. Don't you want to?"
"I-I'm kind of nervous now."
"Nothing to be nervous about. Here, touch me and get it over with, come on, really touch me,, you know? Right here between my legs. Uh-huh. There!"
"Oooh... "
"Feel it, feel it, feel how warm and wet; feel how wicked! No, don't hold back, don't be shy, put your fingers in, right inside my wicked body. My wicked vagina. Pussy. Oh, now you're doing it, darling, right up into my cunt!"
"Mmm... wicked cunt... "
"Even the wicked words are fun, hmm?" The little hand was no longer hesitant and Ondine readjusted her position on the bed with sly assurance, savoring her moment of triumph. "Isn't it more exciting this way, just knowing how wicked we are? It'll get even better, too, just wait. Feel how my cunt kisses your fingers? That's what it's doing, you know, my wicked cunt is kissing you. I'll bet you'd like to be kissing it right back, huh? With your pretty mouth, not just your hand. Kiss it and suck it -oh, so wicked!-darling, wouldn't you like to suck my cunt now?"
"Uh-huh. Tits, too. Suck. Kiss your tits. Don't you want me to kiss your tits first? Nice big tits... "
Ondine's breasts swelled with desire; she was ready and eager when the shiny pink lips dropped out of sight to fasten upon her taut nipples. Ready and eager for more, though, the real thing, oh yes, wouldn't it be heavenly to wrap her thighs around that blonde head and crush that sweet young face into her cunt? And it was going to happen soon, any minute now, the fingers had left her and were just playing around down there, keeping the fire lit until her tits got taken care of. Hmm. Time to relax a lit-, tie?
But any thought of relaxation turned out to be premature as the enthusiastic young mouth plunged inexorably, swooping downward to end the suspense. Lips clung, exerting a kind of soft suction, and then Ondine heaved a huge sigh of happiness as the long-awaited tongue made contact. A brand-new pleasure mounted within her, impossibly delicate at first, entrancing without being demanding, as delicate as the darling child herself. But the demand wasn't far' behind, not after the long prelude of preparation, and the craving in her flesh became deliciously painful all of a sudden.
Vaguely she recalled something about feeling remorseful, but her conscience was already succumbing right along with her body, overwhelmed by the intensity of the thrill. She sighed again as the hot little tongue went on licking rhythmically, daintily, almost like the fluttering wing of some fragile bird; how could such a tiny motion kindle such a terrific response?
Just once, lucid for an instant, she found herself making comparisons, measuring the thrill and finding it even greater than anything Raquel had ever given her. But then the climax crashed through, a juggernaut of ecstasy that defied analysis, and she could only moan and thrust herself against that open mouth and accept the miracle for what it was, simply that, a miracle!
CHAPTER FIVE
Maplemoor had scads of culture and a three year curriculum, more advanced scholastically than a junior college and more snooty socially than any school in the state. Despite such prestige, however, it was still a country club, pretty much-classroom as well as campus--except for a stubbornly old-fashioned notion about virginity being the one sure preventative for pregnancy. Abstinence, then, enforced by the total, absence of the opposite sex, was the only prescribed contraceptive, a bitter pill indeed, but inevitable as exams and tuition bills. So it was always Ladies' Day in the country club, an atmosphere toxic to orange blossoms but uniquely conducive to certain exotic hothouse plants, the night-blooming daisy-chain and other assorted flowers-of-evil (Baudelaire was on the required reading list, too). Secrets, oui, scandal, non!-that just about summed up the fun and games at this-academy for the daughters of the rich, a good code to abide by in any segment of society.
There were no national sororities on the campus and the rules governing the system of pledging and initiation had become a local tradition. Rushing took place early, but the new girls remained pledges throughout the year, residing in the house but achieving the precious rights of membership only in the late spring. That made life somewhat difficult for the poor darlings, poor lowly creatures who had to drop everything and run when called upon to fetch and carry or clean up a messy room. Nice for the upper-class girls, though, a kind of built in maid-service all year long. And as for the pledges, well, it was considered good for their souls to learn a little discipline!
Within the system, some sororities ranked higher than others on the social scale, and the Deltas outranked them all. The house itself was almost luxurious; the rooms were small but had private baths and private telephones, the kind of place that every incoming freshman broke her neck to get into. Even though it meant bearing the ignominious "fag-girl" label, strictly a Delta custom-of forgotten origin now, but obviously an idea that must have come from the ancient schools for the young male blue-bloods of England. It was an accepted term among the Deltas, and every room on the junior and senior levels had at least one such young brat dropping in daily to do the chores. This was routine procedure, mostly, but that much intimate contact often led to friendships of greater intimacy. Especially when the particular fag-girl in question was the kind who seemed to need someone older to lean on, someone to offer advice and sympathy and thus help iron out the rough spots in her adjustment to the many complexities of college life.
Not that Blythe Venable considered herself such a someone, of course, only too well aware of her own self-centered nature-hardly the sympathetic type! Nor had she even contemplated such a relationship earlier in the year, already involved in a liaison of some long standing with her best friend and roommate, the beautiful Alida. But almost imperceptibly this recent thing, with Meg had gained in depth and intensity; now it was too big to go unheeded. To big to break off without some weeping and wailing, too, and despite Alida's peevish insistence-jealousy, natch!-Blythe had no intention of doing so. At least not until she had probed-the newly Arisen pleasures and possibilities of the affair, a logical conclusion and consequence of her last weekend at home.
Even now, in fact, she was already probing. How nice to drop a hint and get such immediate results! For the second time in as many weeks, the little fag-girl had volunteered her services as a manicurist. Not an unheard-of phenomenon, exactly, but still somewhat less than commonplace around the Delta house, outside the normal range of duty for a sorority pledge.
"You're sweet to do this for me, kid. The way you've been taking care of my clothes and things- and now this. You don't really have to, you know. But my fingernails never had it so good, I'll admit." Blythe slid the sleeve of her robe back, gauging the work in progress with a gratified glance. "How come you're so willing, huh?"
"Well... " Still working wraptly, eyes downcast, "Let's just say it's an excuse to be here with you. I'm more comfortable here than in my own room."
"Huh? Aw, you're putting me on. After all, you've got your own freshman friends... "
"Some. I've made friends because of you, Blythe. The kids don't look down their noses at me like they used to. But it's no put-on, what I just said, I'm still happier like this. I used to be so lonesome. You were the first girl at Maplemoor ever to say anything nice to me. That's something I'll never forget."
"Oh? Hmm. I'm trying to remember."
"About my mouth. My lips. You said I had a pretty mouth, remember? I thought you were being sarcastic at first. I know how ugly my mouth is. Everybody says it's too big. My lips are much too thick. And then when you said my mouth and lips were the most fascinating thing about me... well... "
Blythe recalled the incident. It was true about the kid's mouth, the thick lips-coarse, almost-and just as true that she had found them fascinating. Not beautiful, just sexy. But that was fine with her, oh yes, looks aside, that mouth had turned out to be sexy, sure enough. Made for cunt! Her best feature, maybe, although that really wasn't saying very much-the poor kid didn't have much in the way of good features to choose from. Not in the typical sorority girl mold at all, and it was darn near inconceivable that the Deltas had pledged her in the first place. For more reasons than just her appearance, too.
Meg Nolan had been raised in an orphanage and was on a scholarship of some sort, a new concept at Maplemoor. One that would hardly set a trend, though-democracy and all that shit!-just a little something to modernize the old "snob school" image in this era of general unrest. To stave off the Revolution, no doubt. Anyway, as the best sorority on the campus-self-proclaimed but true-the Deltas decided to go the administration one better, all in a big burst of enthusiasm-and that was how the kid got in. Just this once, even looks didn't matter.
Actually, she was pretty cute in a chubby way, with greenish eyes and long brown hair and a tiny button-nose. Nice tits, too, big for her age and height, but good and solid and very sexy in the nipple department. Only her thick lips didn't fit the picture, but that didn't bother Blythe any. Where it counted, there was no better fag-girl in the house. And smart, too, studying hard and keeping her grades up in order to hang onto that scholarship. To say nothing of this talent for giving a manicure...
"Honey, that's great. You did a real job on me."
"Needs a little more buffing, hmm?"
"Come on, Meg, you're not getting paid for this, I mean you're not my servant or anything like that. Don't knock yourself out."
"Oh... " There was silence for a while, broken only by the faint swish of the nail-buffer. Then, almost wistfully, "I-I wouldn't mind if you did treat me like a servant. Maybe I kind of like the idea, you know?"
"Hmm. Well, if it gets my nails done... "
"I'd do anything for you, Blythe. Anything at all."
"Oh? Anything?"
"Uh-huh."
"Covers a lot of territory. Interesting, though. Very. Better let me think about that one. I might come up with some-"
Of all the times for an interruption, that was the worst. But the door had opened and Alida was coming in. Breathtakingly beautiful. As usual. Except for the frown of disgust that crossed her face the instant she laid eyes on the fag-girl. But she just nodded a casual greeting and then went into the bathroom, trailed by a shock of straight black hair that hung with absolute perfection, not a single strand out of place. Impeccable. As usual. There were times when Blythe had felt the urge to muss up that hair just for the sake of mussing it up. And times-like now!-when she felt more like tearing it out by the roots...
"She looked mad. Because of me, huh?"
"Forget it. But I guess you ought to run along anyway, kitten, we could both use some beauty sleep."
"You're beautiful without it." Then with just a shade of petulance, "Besides, I was hoping we might, well... "
"Not tonight. And don't look so downhearted. It'll keep."
"All right." Still pouting her disappointment, Meg gathered up the manicure equipment and put it away, then lifted her lips for a parting kiss.
Blythe obliged with a light peck. "Thanks for doing my nails, kid. You're sure you didn't mind?"
"I loved it. I love doing things for you. Only I wish you wouldn't send me away like this... "
Shaking her head, Blythe reached out to pat the unhappy girl's cheek, smiling as her hand was grasped and held there. Shyly, eyes lidded, Meg carried it to her lips. The appeal was irresistible and Blythe let the kiss go on, aware of the novelty but finding an even greater enjoyment in the softness of the thick lips. Strangely stirred, she touched them with her fingertips and then uttered a little giggle as the contact deepened. The dewy lips had parted to suck her inside, sucking her fingers into the open mouth where an eagerly expectant tongue took over with a flurry of moist caresses; such a weird sensation!
It was time to call a halt before the effect reached perilous proportions, though; even now she felt like pinching that tongue and just dragging it to bed with her. Taking those nice thick lips along as a bonus, of course. And whatever else might follow. But she managed to tug her hand loose at last, a gesture of finality that stung the hot-mouthed little sexpot back to reality and sent her reeling from the room in a rush of embarrassment.
As if the closing door was a cue, Alida came out of the bathroom. "You got rid of her? Gone for the night, I hope. Does she have to hang around here all the time?"
"Nothing to get upset about. Just a fag-girl showing a little affection, that's all." Blythe raised her hand, displaying freshly lacquered fingernails, still moist from the kissing mouth. "A bit of affection is nice, too. See the job she did?"
"You're really pulling your rank on her, huh? Pledges aren't supposed to do-"
"Oh shit, don't make such a big thing out of it. It was her own idea. She offered to do my nails and I let her. What's wrong with that?"
"It's just bad policy. Bad for the sorority."
"Bad for the sorority, hmm? I wonder. What the hell, if the kid wants to make a slave out of herself ..."
"That's ridiculous. What are you trying to do, turn back the calendar? Slavery was abolished years ago, remember? Fellow by the name of Lincoln, tall man with a beard-"
"Very funny. Alida, are we going to argue all night about a fag-girl? Come on, get undressed. I feel horny."
"What do you want me for? Aren't you getting enough from Meg."
"You sound jealous." Then, giggling, "Hey, I like that. It means you really love me."
"I do love you. But I'm not going to play second fiddle to your affectionate little fag-girl."
"Oh. Well! Suit yourself. I'm going to take a shower. Not that I need one... " Blythe shed her robe and ambled into the bathroom, deliberately exaggerating the swing and sway of her jutting buttocks, "If I'm not back in an hour, send a scouting party after me. In case you're interested...
Mildly annoyed by her roommate's attitude, she turned the shower on hot and revolved slowly as the torrent poured down. The spattering droplets felt good upon her skin, washing away tension and bringing a sense of rosy serenity. Alida would soon get over her resentment and come begging for forgiveness-on her knees, probably-swallowing her pride and hoping for something more pleasant to swallow. Hungry for a piece of bedtime candy. The one brand of candy she just couldn't do without, at least not for very long. Even a weekend of separation seemed almost too much for her to bear lately.
Blythe liked that, recognizing the power it gave her, a power she hadn't even sought. Who could have figured such a twist? Alida Ware, was one of the mainsprings of the sorority, immensely popular and sure to be elected president for next year. Just right for it, too, the gracious aristocrat with just a touch of humility-and so beautiful! She was tall and slender and had a kind of willowy beauty, a lissome grace that made her every movement appear bonelessly fluid. Her eyes were slightly slanted, dark, the texture of soft velvet; her complexion was milky white in contrast-and she had that always perfect hair, long and black and flowing, right out of some TV shampoo commercial. Even now, sometimes, Blythe simply couldn't believe that such a matchless creature had fallen in love with her. But this was their second year together, and the bond had become strong enough to withstand just about any strain...
Even jealousy?
"Hey, your time's up. Blythe?"
She poked her head out from behind the shower curtain. "Have I been in that long?"
"Long enough. Too long. Listen, I'm sorry I got upset-just one of those things, you know?" Alida had stripped down to panties and bra, a lovely sight and obviously impatient-which made her even lovelier, of course. "Are you going to stay in there all night? Come on, I'll give you a hand."
"Don't bother. I'll be out in a while."
"It's the least I can do. Won't you let me in?"
"Well, if you insist. Okay, I'll be right out. Just give me a minute to get rinsed off first."
"Sure. I'll wait."
Blythe ducked back under the shower, aglow with elation. Her roomie was penitent, not indignant. Apologetic now-and unmistakably anxious to make up. So her hold over Alida was still intact, a power invulnerable even to an attack of jealousy, what luck! Why not take advantage of it? Hmm. There was bound to be something...
A steamy mist billowed when she cut the water off -and shoved the shower curtain aside. She doffed her shower cap and stepped out smiling, confident that a towel would be ready and waiting to envelop her.
"About time. Here... "
"Thanks."
"No. Just stand still. I'll do it. Like I said, it's the least I can do to show you-"
"Okay, okay, don't get so serious! Not in here, anyway. The bathroom is no place for a serious talk. Mmm, that feels good. You've got such a gentle touch."
"Only when I'm touching you."
"I'm glad... " Blythe's head tilted, her lips brushing the pale throat delicately and drawing a swift response. She accepted the kiss almost demurely, opening her mouth only after the prying tongue had forced its entrance. Then, a whisper, "I'm glad you're not angry anymore, darling."
The kiss returned to stifle further speech, the tongue hotly insistent once again, accompanied now by fingers, slipping beneath the towel. She allowed the caress to continue, deliciously aware of the tingling tips of her breasts. But it was too soon yet, too soon for anything more than a sample, and she cast off her docile languor to end the embrace abruptly.
"Finish, will you? I'm still wet."
"Uh-huh. Service. Although I'd rather lick you dry. Where you're the wettest. Right here... " Alida chuckled. "Oh, that bald pussy! I'm still not used to it."
"The hair is starting to grow back in, though. I'll have to do something about that."
"Let it grow."
"Oh? You don't like it this way?"
"Any old way is okay with me. Is it really growing in again? Still looks pretty bald from here." Another chuckle sounded and the graceful body seemed to crumple upon itself as Alida sank slowly to her knees. Once there, she became immediately solemn, staring and licking her lips and at last angling her head back to peer up out of ardent eyes. "Darling? Please?"
"Oooh, you mustn't tempt me... " Blythe smiled down at the upturned face, conscious of her own emotion. It was exciting to have someone crouched at her feet, a thrill that renewed the nice feeling of power. Such a temptation, too-but wasn't there something she had to do first? Uh-huh. Something important. "Hey, we must be out of our minds! In the bathroom? Silly. Besides, we haven't had that serious talk yet."
Whirling, she strode out into the bedroom without a backward glance. There, foraging through a bureau drawer hurriedly, she found a pair of panties and put them on. Just to quell any notion about sex right away. A wise precaution, too; Alida came rushing in with an expression that turned sour at the sight and significance of the garment. She stopped short, mute with shock.
"Don't make such a face. You don't like my pretty black panties? But they're so tiny, really, they hardly hide a thing. And they do come off, you know. After we've had our little talk, hmm?"
"Talk. Blythe, what talk? I seem to have been left behind, somehow. Yeah. In more ways than one. Okay, just what are we supposed to be talking about, would you mind telling me?"
"Meg Nolan, that's what. I thought you knew."
"Oh, that. Your fag-girl."
"She's your fag-girl, too. Keeps the whole room nice and clean, doesn't she?" Blythe sat on her bed, leaning back lazily, one leg drawn up and the other dangling. "Anyway, if you really loved me, you wouldn't make such a fuss and we wouldn't even have to be talking about her."
"I love you. Say the word and I'll pull those pretty panties down and show you how much. But I still don't understand about the kid hanging around."
"Oh shit, what's to understand? She's happy here and I like having her around. All I'm asking is that you make an effort to be nice to her; is that too much?"
"That's all? Just be nice to her? Okay, you win, I could go on arguing, but you'd win anyway. You always do. I'll be nice to Meg from now on."
"Promise?" Blythe sat up. "Thank you, darling. Now come here and let's seal it with a kiss." She reached out and tugged Alida's had down. The kiss was as voluptuously sensual as before, just as erotic as the one in the bathroom. But this time Blythe was the aggressor. Until the deep-throated moan of surrender sounded; then she fell back again and brought her legs together. "Now what was it you said about pulling these pretty panties down?"
"Darling!"
"Hey, watch it, don't tear them! That's just nylon, you know, so please be gentle."
"Sorry."
"Hmph! I should have made you take them off with your teeth. Why all the impatience? I do hope you remember how to suck a cunt better than that."
"Only your cunt, Blythe. Yours... "
"Ah yes, my cunt, my cunt, suck my cunt. Fuck me with that beautiful face of yours, such a beautiful face.
"Mmm?"
"Good, good. You do remember. Oh shit, let's not quarrel ever again, Alida. Never again, you hear? How would my cunt ever get along without you?"
CHAPTER SIX
Mildly depressed for no apparent reason, Ondine plopped her naked body down at the mirrored dressing table. Her thighs and buttocks spread across the upholstered surface of the bench, giving her a twinge of irritation. Pretty flabby. And picking up poundage in the wrong places, worse luck, too much in the bottom, not enough in the bosom...
"Miz Ondine? Want your hair brushed now?"
"Umm, yes. If you're finished in the kitchen."
"All finished. I've got nothing to do but take care of you now. My favorite job. At your service, ma'am."
"You're a dear, Raquel. Do take care of me. But then I don't even have to say that, do !? You're always there when I need you."
"Just doing my duty. All my duties. And trying to give a good performance every time. Hmm. Like show business, I guess."
Ondine smiled wanly, finding the analogy a mite farfetched for either truth or humor. But she had no complaints to make about the actual performance. With the brush gliding through her hair, she was already beginning to feel better. It was like a soothing caress that swept away sadness-moving slowly, carefully, almost tenderly-a respite from the day's petty frustrations. A hundred strokes would lift her out of the doldrums. And probably make her feel sexy, too. Sexy for the next performance?
At the moment, that still seemed doubtful. The-sharp edge of sex had been blunted, somehow, leaving her without lust. Less than usual, anyway. And yet she could sense it lurking down deep inside her body, a wellspring of untapped desire, oh yes, she had all the symptoms. It was a kind of uneasy restlessness, a malaise perhaps, this thing she felt on the surface-somewhere between an oncoming cold and a vitamin deficiency. Even the old house seemed gloomy lately.
"You're very quiet tonight, Raquel. Or maybe it's just me. I was noticing how still everything gets at night-only the two of us in this big old house. Uh, do you think Blythe might be coming in this weekend?"
"Probably not. Can't say for sure, though."
"I hope so. We need some young blood around the place. Even if it's just to make noise and let us know we're alive."
"I'm all for that, Miz Ondine. Plenty of noise. Young blood, the more the merrier. I know just what you mean. You don't have to be shy with me, ma'am."
"Oh? I just meant... well... "
"With the weather getting so nice, I'll bet Blythe will be bringing her friends in for weekends soon. Those sorority sisters of hers. That ought to cheer you up some. Hmm. Make you feel young again, too. All those little dolls to play with. Take you right back to your childhood."
"Raquel! Must you? Of all the things to say. You'll have me blushing in a minute. Little dolls. Imagine. You expect me to turn the place into some kind of dollhouse?"
"A dollhouse. Sure, why not? And you'll be right in the middle of it with that rosy pink blush-"
"Hush now! Just brush my hair."
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry."
Without any apparent change of manner or tempo, the so-called "performance" had suddenly become more intimate. Ondine found her rosy pink mirror-twin charming, only slightly plump now, a vision of mature sensuality. The flushed cheeks radiated something more interesting than mere beauty, something with a secret excitement of its own. She caught a glimpse of her maid's head with that cropped hairstyle, almost boyish; it made her feel ultra-feminine by contrast, proud of her own luxuriant auburn growth. The secret excitement was spreading now, too, a sweeping sensation influenced by the downstrokes of the hairbrush in some strange way.
Her malaise was gone, losing out to this delicious rebirth of desire; the whole world had become sexy- and wasn't it wonderful that her body possessed the power to awaken so swiftly? How good to be so alive, so terribly, marvelously alive! Sex made the-world go round and she was right in the middle of it. In the middle of her dollhouse...
"Miz Ondine, you're shivering. Are you cold?"
"Cold. Hot. Get me to bed."
"You-you feeling-what's the matter?"
"Bed. Love me. Kiss me. Help me to bed!" That stirred Raquel to action. The hairbrush clattered and the bench scraped and at last Ondine was padding across the floor to tumble down and make " the bedsprings creak. She fell upon her side and then decided to stay like that, constraining her need for fulfillment in favor of the sweet torture of deferral. Let it be slow and lingering tonight, let it last a long time, let it make up for all that restlessness...
Fingers touched her, then lips-oh, so gentle!-a sign that her little maid had understood. The lips were turning the buds of her nipples into blossoms. She treasured the tender caresses, accepting them gratefully and yet with a certain languorous ease, as if they were no more than her rightful due. As if such dalliance had been designed purely for her personal pleasure. Ah yes, it was nice to be the recipient of such unselfishly lavished love. To be attended with such skill, such cunning dexterity. To know that she was conferring a joyous gift by the mere fact of her naked and receptive presence. Even now her adoring lover-maid was leaving her aroused breasts to begin anew, starting a trail of downward kisses, anticipating her every wish.
The moist trail became hesitant after a while, stymied by the position of her body. She remained motionless, still on her side, suppressing even a quiver of telltale response as the kissing lips reached her hipline and stopped there. Such fun! Wasn't this the way to play the game? Oh sure, in just another moment she would sink back and spread her legs and offer herself unstintingly to that hopeful mouth. But meanwhile...
"Miz Ondine? You want me to kiss your ass?"
The words themselves sounded as lewd as their meaning, and her mind couldn't quite adjust to the enormity of this totally unexpected query. Only it must have been more of a demand, really-the small hut forceful hands were nudging her, pushing her- and what else could she do but follow their direction? But not without a few words of her own, naturally, adding to the excitement.
"Yes, do, Raquel, kiss my ass! Shameless slut... "
Only then did she go all the way, rolling upon her stomach in a kind of sacrificial gesture, offering the unsullied purity of her flesh to that nasty little tongue. For a while, though she had to hide her flushed face in the pillow, crawling into a protective shell and separating herself from that other part of her body. Even the words kept ringing in her ears- kiss my ass-so obscene! Coarse and. lurid and downright dirty-but thrilling just the same and because of that very reason, admittedly; could any thrill be more delicious? And not just saying it, either, but doing it, having it done to her, lying there bathed in that hot breath and opening herself up to that hot tongue, such a slimy little tongue, licking, licking, already into the crack and licking down deeper inside where the pointy wet tip seemed to have some crazy idea ail its own. Getting crazier all the time, too, deliciously crazy... , It made her feel regal, almost. That too was kind of crazy, except that it gave her the courage to say what had to be said. No more gloom, no more restless depression; after all. here in her own home wasn't her dominion absolute?
"Raquel... "
"Mmm?"
"You've reached Blythe by phone now and then. haven't you?"
"Umm. Ma'am? Oh. Yes'm, once in a while Not very- often, though, it's long distance and I'm careful about running up the bill. But I don't understand why you-"
"Never mind the expense, call the kid regularly-let's find out her weekend plans ahead of time after this. You might even give her a ring tonight, it's still early enough. After you've finished taking care of me, of course."
"Tonight? You want me to-"
"Yes, tonight. Is it so impossible?"
"No, ma'am. I can reach her. I'll be glad to. But I still don't understand what - "
"Good. I'd like to see Blythe this weekend. You call her and arrange that for me. Hmm?"
"Oh... "
"Later, though. Now finish what you started. Long as you're so fond of my ass. Come on, slut, get your nose back in there where it belongs. Oooh, that tongue, lick me, lick me!"
* * *
When the telephone rang, Meg uttered a little groan of vexation and prayed fervently that it would just go on ringing. But no, Blythe was already sitting up and answering.
"Oh, it's you, Raquel. Is anything wrong?"
But there was nothing wrong, apparently, and Meg could only sit up herself as the call continued, aware that her beloved friend seemed to be settling down for an extended conversation. Although it was Raquel at the other end of the line doing most of the talking, as it turned out, while Blythe listened and spoke in monosyllables and did a lot of giggling...
Something about the weekend? Meg waited glumly, exasperated by this interruption that was taking so much time. Very precious time, too; it wasn't often she got to be alone with Blythe this late at night, not with that roommate of hers around so much. Just this once, luckily, Alida Ware was elsewhere in the house, all wrapped up with French irregular verbs and such, preparing for an exam at a group cram-session. So the time was precious, sure enough-just when things were getting interesting, too!-couldn't they get rid of the telephone as well as the roommate?
Meg reached out and ran a hand down Blythe's back. The flesh was like creamy velvet under her fingertips and she repeated the caress amorously. Her pleasure was heightened by the squirming response it evoked. She flattened her hand upon a jutting hip, delighting in the tingling sensation-still smooth as velvet and yet somehow like the prickling of a million tiny pins and needles, all centered in her sensitive palm.
Another tremor made Blythe stiffen and she clapped her hand over the mouthpiece. "Quit that! You'll have me jumping out of my skin in a minute." Then, shrugging, "Oh shit, you might as well enjoy yourself." She twisted and leaned back at a comfortable angle, smiling now, a definite invitation. "My tits, huh? Kitten? "
No further incentive was necessary, not even the hand that left the mouthpiece and gripped the back of Meg's neck. Her lips parted and her tongue roved. lavishing her pent-up affection on the creamy softness. Above her head the conversation was still somewhat intrusive, but she didn't mind so much now. The phone was no competition this way, just a vaguely remote nuisance, and she could go on kissing these yummy sugar-tits all night. Candy nipples that seemed to melt in her mouth and grow bigger at the same time...
Another burst of giggles sounded. The hand on her 'neck squeezed a little, a signal, urgent and unmistakable, and Meg let herself be guided just long enough to become absolutely certain of her exact direction and destination. Excitement flared anew then and she moved swiftly with desire as her one and only guide, ecstasy her only goal. The ecstasy of cunt. Cunt. This cunt. The cunt she loved. The one and only cunt that meant anything to her in this entire cunt-rich school.
Meg was no stranger to cunt, of course, a familiarity acquired all too soon at the orphanage and reinforced with every passing year. Even a hairless cunt was hardly a novelty to her, what with so many institutionalized little girls anxious to play the forbidden game, youngsters with no more than rudimentary equipment. Nor was she inexperienced with the shorn variety either, for that matter, in view of the head matron's reliance upon the razor whenever the threat of lice appeared imminent among the older girls. So her predilection for this particular cunt was based on love alone, above and beyond any considerations of appearance and adornment and the like. Always conscious of her own shortcomings-even more so among the "democratic" Deltas of illustrious Maplemoor-she had found salvation in Blythe Venable, a sweet friend to cherish, a superior being to serve, a superlative body to cling to; why not a cunt to suck?
Lax limbs yielded to her pressure graciously, knowingly, steepling at the knees and gliding wide to catch and centralize the feverish flow of her love. As though the slick inner surfaces of the tilted thighs formed an ever-narrowing chute, a funnel versatile enough to receive and handle anything from a great gush to the tiniest little trickle. As if love could be measured in terms of liquids! Hers would soon saturate the world...
Quivering lips seemed to purse instinctively for her first kiss, the moist pink pucker of impatient cunt-lips. Like a dewy rosebud about to unfurl its petals to the morning sun. Too pretty to reshape, somehow, and Meg could only pay tribute with the tip of her tongue, awed by the sudden revelation. Blythe's cunt was actually beautiful! That was hard to comprehend; after all, cunts were for kissing and pissing-and fucking, maybe, for stupid cows who didn't know any better-but beautiful?
She couldn't dwell on it, though, the rose was already opening to admit and absorb her face. Not like a flower now, too hot and wet and sexy and all slippery inside, cunt, and beautiful, no matter what those dumb fucking cows said about lesbians and lesbian cuntlappers and the misunderstood beauty of lesbian love...
"Kid? Hey, slow down!"
"Ummm... "
"I just hung up the phone, in case you're interested. Don't you want to hear what Raquel had to say?"
"Sure. I listen good while I'm sucking."
"Is that so? I can believe it. You suck good, too-oooh, that's wild!-best pair of lips in the house. Too bad we're running out of time. We are, though-it's all over for tonight, I'm afraid. Because of that phone call."
"Hmm? Blythe?"
"Sorry, sweetie, that's how it is. They want me home this weekend and I can't get out of it. Which means I've got to be ready to take the afternoon bus tomorrow, right after class."
"Oh. You've got to pack?"
"Packing is the least of my troubles. They'd disown me if I ever came in looking like a dowdy-ass Delta. I've got to bathe and do something with my hair and work on my nails. Good grooming and all that shit, you know?"
"Tonight?"
"When else? Classes all day tomorrow."
"Don't-go. Stay. Let me... ummm... "
"You think I wouldn't like to? Come on kid, don't get too involved down there, not now. There just isn't time."
"We'll make time, Blythe? I'll help you. Afterward, huh?"
"Help me? Wash my back, you mean? Some help. I can see you falling into the tub with me... "
"Hmm, sounds like fun. But I'll be a good girl and really help, I promise. Everything. I'll draw your bath and get your clothes organized and do your hair. Nails, too, if you'd like, although they can't need more than a quick touch-up. Fair enough?"
"Well.
"Think of all the time we'll be saving. Time for fun. You hear me smacking my lips? Nice thick lips. Best pair of lips in the house, you said so yourself."
"Oh shit, now I'm embarrassed. You were right about my nails, for one thing, the last job you did is still okay. It's my toenails that need doing, and that's just too much to-"
"Toenails? So what's the problem?"
"You-you want to? No. I can't let you. That's, a job for a paid servant, a personal maid, not a sorority pledge. I'd feel guilty afterward. All weekend, probably."
"Fine. Feel guilty. At least you'd be thinking of me, then. Anyway, what does it matter-servant, maid, pledge, fag-girl-I can't see how the title makes much difference. I'm all of those and more. Lover, for instance. Lover-girl with love on her lips. Hairdresser. Toenail painter. Whatever. As long as you don't send me away, not tonight especially, the one night we've got the place to ourselves."
"Oh. I forgot. You and Alida... "
"It's not so bad. We get along. Just the same, though, I sure appreciated tonight. Until you got that darn phone call. We've done nothing but argue since then."
"Nothing, eh? Then how come your lips are still shiny? And what are you doing down there between my legs?"
"So we're not arguing, just wrestling. I like it here. I'd stay all night if you'd let-"
"All night! Thanks a lot. And me with a bus to catch tomorrow. Who's going to do my nails?"
"Me. Of course. Just say the word."
"Hair too? I'll want a good job, kitten."
"Nails, hair, everything-a good job, I promise. The best."
"It better be. Or I just might take the hairbrush and lay it across your ass."
"Oooh, you wouldn't! Anyway, I guarantee you'll he satisfied with my work. Because it's just as important to me as it is to you. Maybe even more so. I like doing things for you, remember? I've said it before, but maybe you'll believe me this time. I'd do anything for you. Anything."
"Uh-huh. I remember. You were giving me a manicure. Hmm. I seem to remember something else, too. Right after that. Only it wouldn't be quite the same, would it? Tonight, I mean. Manicure. Pedicure. They're really quite different."
"Blythe? I-I don't understand."
"I was just thinking out loud. Kind of wondering. Just a silly notion, just remembering, you know? Darling, will you kiss my feet afterward like you did my hands?"
"Oh ..."
"Never mind. I said it was silly."
"No. It's silly only because I forgot. I'm glad you didn't, though. If I kissed your hands, why shouldn't I kiss your feet? Right now, if you'd like. Why wait till afterward?"
"Hah? Darling.
Meg was already sliding lower in the bed, sinking off the end as she brought one bare foot to her lips and kissed it. Then the other, almost reverently now, aware of a strange and unexpected pleasure seeping through her body. A pleasure that increased somehow when she sucked the wriggling toes into her mouth.
"Sweet thing. You're so good to me." Blythe's voice was gentle, a distant murmur. "And you're not my servant at all, are you? Not my maid. Oh no, you're something much better, a thousand times better, and I love you for it. Darling, you're my slave girl, that's what you are. My own sweet slave girl. Mine to command, isn't that so? Of course it is. And since you're so anxious to serve me, we'll, I just might even let you shave my cunt tonight."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The morning sunbeams bypassed the tree leaves outside the -window and stole through the curtain to touch the sleeping figure on the bed. Alida Ware's eyelids flickered; she uttered a small moan and then stretched fluidly, preparing to' re-enlist in the daily battle of life. Somehow she didn't mind, though, and that in itself was enough to keep her lying there in a mild state of puzzlement; why should she feel so wide awake? Energetic, even. After staying up so late last night...
That was it, no doubt. Staying up last night and cramming for the French exam with the kids down the hall. Coming in and finding the lights out and her roommate fast asleep, too peaceful to disturb under any circumstances. What else was left but to fall into bed and drop off herself? No wonder she felt like an eager beaver this morning, oh shit, she was just plain horny!
Funny about that. After the study session broke up, there were hints and passes galore and she could have had her choice of bed partners. Even after the immediate disappointment here, she would have had no problem getting her need taken care of. They all loved her in the Delta house; a knock on just about any door would have brought an enthusiastic welcome. And yet, despite the craving in her flesh last night, the thought of seeking elsewhere for solace simply hadn't occurred to her. Or at least not seriously. She was bored with such girls, the ones who bowed down to her beauty-bored with the coyly hopeful subservience of the wooers who desired nothing more than to worship at her shrine. More to the-point-and painful to admit, almost-she had her own shrine to worship. Right there. Undisturbed by the morning sun...
On the other bed, dead to the world but for the slow and steady breathing of a sound sleeper, Blythe lay face down with her head half-buried in the pillow. The sheet, wrinkled and twisted, did little to conceal her creamy nudity. Alida shut her eyes, still seeing the vision, recognizing more than ever how terribly much it meant to her. Even now sometimes she just couldn't believe that one small person-and female, too!-had wrought such a change in her life. It hardly seemed possible.
And yet she had no excuses to make, no plausible reason to offer for her conduct. She must have known pretty much what was happening right from the very beginning. From the very first kiss even, a shock that would stick in her mind forever. Almost like strangers they had been, just two frightened freshmen thrown together by chance, but that first kiss had sealed their friendship, timing them staunch and solid together in the face of the upper-class enemy. Only the seal involved more than just friendship, of course-it was that kind of kiss. Unmistakable if not quite understandable...
What a shock! One girl kissing another? Right on the lips, too, and not like a birthday peck either, a real kiss with the hot flick of a tongue-tip practically speaking for itself. Blythe's tiny tongue poking and probing, demanding, and after a moment of panicked stiffness Alida could only melt and open her mouth. Yielding dizzily, she just let it happen, just standing there in a daze. Choked up. Only she wasn't too dizzy to figure out what this sudden assault and lovey-dovey embrace represented. Except that it didn't seem very logical-a girl like that, all dainty and delicate with blue eyes and blond hair, so sweet and feminine in a tousled way-could such a darling creature be a lesbian!
There wasn't that much time to ponder the issue, though, and Alida couldn't even catch her breath while that hot pointy tongue occupied her mouth and kept getting hotter, still poking around inside like a little animal, a sexy little animal. Turning her on like crazy! And when the sexy little hands slid down her back to clutch the cheeks of her ass and pull her in tight, she just moaned in her throat and surrendered to the inevitable. Even if compliance with those sexy little hands and that sexy little tongue made her some kind of a freaky lesbian, too.
She was helping even, sagging at the knees and letting her middle slump to meet and match that short body with her taller one. Making contact in just the right place. Like with a boy. Standing there and kissing and rubbing bellies. Only it was a lot different, really, not like a boy-thing at all, ever so much softer and maybe even sexier, too. way, that was for sure!
The idea of safety was of prime consideration then, just after the dean's lecture on dating had made intimacy with boys sound like an open invitation to leprosy. Alida had been worried about that, proud of her recent loss of virginity and unable to see herself doing without that mild but rather interesting pleasure for very long. But if a kiss and belly-rub could turn her on so big, who needed boys? She had found the legendary joys of intercourse to be somewhat overrated, for that matter, even though her cagily selected young man had the record and reputation of a prime stud among the members of their peer group. Wasn't it a stroke of luck then to run across this safe substitute that showed so much promise?
That was when she made up her mind. Right then and there, rubbing bellies and sucking tongues with Blythe Venable for the first time, Alida had ended her romance with Charlie Ponsonby to become-technically, at least-a Maplemoor virgin. And to become-genuinely-a woman in love. A moment to remember! Was it any wonder that she could recall every shade and nuance of the thrill, the potent and persuasive magic of that first shocking kiss?
But then, well, she could recall just about everything else in this all-important phase of her life, everything that had happened between them since that moment. Bad things as well as good. The despair of separation, for instance, a natural consequence of the ecstasy of their love. Other things, too, an accumulation of such memories, some better forgotten but impossible to forget. Living with Blythe was an education in capricious uneasiness. A strange girl with increasingly strange ways! There was a fever in the blond imp, a need, a taste for something of which she herself wasn't truly conscious. Something wicked. Evil. She seemed to be looking for something "far out"-perhaps too far out to be other than a figment of her own imagination. Only she had to go on looking, regardless, always confronted by some uncrossable gap but still incapable of accepting the reality of it. Like a trumpet player blowing his brains out reaching for a nonexistent high note...
Alida glanced over at the other bed again. No sign of awakening yet, just that same evenly paced breathing. Hmm. Time to go on a search of her own? After all, that gap wasn't uncrossable. In a fervor of anticipation, she made the leap like a ballet dancer in slow motion, moving across and coming to rest with cautious accuracy. Leaning upon an elbow, she bent and brushed the tousled blond hair with her cheek. Like sweet-scented silk against her face. She nuzzled into it, parting the strands to kiss the nape of the soft neck, a kiss of prudent experimentation.
All quiet. Slowly, unhurriedly, she let her lips trail down the motionless spine, punctuating the prolonged caress with tiny darting movements of the tip of her tongue. Ardor stirred hot and thick within her, but she managed to hold herself in check and continue her dalliance at a leisurely gait. Soon the lovely body stirred lazily, apparently departing from the dark realm of sleep; now the pretty legs were twitching and gliding apart as though begging for affection. Blythe slumbered on, trancelike...
Snow White waiting for her Prince Charming?
Perhaps. If so, a very sexy Snow White who would need a very sexy kiss to break the trance. The kind of kiss no stupid Prince Charming would know about. Especially in that position, great for fairies but unmentionable in fairy tales. Hmm, a Greek Prince Charming maybe? Alida giggled, caught in the excitement of a little fairy tale of her own. With no delusions of gender, though, no prince, no prick, no pregnancy problem-just an amorous girl who happened to be an authority on the breaking of amorous girlish trances. Sapphic fairy tales, had a certain charm, too, all part of ancient Greek culture. She only hoped this one wouldn't lose too much in the translation to a more modern tongue.
The creamy buttock curves quivered under her lips, turning moist and shiny from the flurry of open-mouthed kisses. The dimples, one on each cheek, appeared particularly receptive, deliciously so, and she was tempted to resume her leisurely pace once again. But the dark valley beckoned for attention and she could dally no longer, already sinking toward the place that was no less appealing than the nape of that soft neck up there and surely deserved no less in the way of treatment. Another place to nuzzle. Another dimple, too, or at least a reasonable facsimile. Calling for another darting motion of the tip of her tongue, ah yes, there!
"Oooh ..."
Nice to hear a sound of appreciation. Only a sleepy sigh, of course, but a good omen nonetheless. Coming out of the trance now. Time to bring her out completely, time to dig right in and pry her loose from the darkness-time to prod and push and stretch to sink the grapple into the darker depths beyond...
"Gooh!"
"Mmm?"
"That tongue of yours. Alida. Better than any dream. You always get in so deep! Longest goddamn tongue-"
"Umm?"
"Oh, you'll drive me up the wall like that! My ass feels like it's on fire. Fuck me, lover, fuck me in the ass, tear my asshole apart with that dynamite tongue!"
That was appreciation indeed, but a little too loud at this early hour of the day, too loud even for the sophisticated and highly congenial atmosphere of the Delta house, and Alida was glad when the shout lapsed into silence. Besides, she could hear her own noises now, barely audible but just as exciting, the faint squish-squish-squish of her rhythmic penetration and retraction, all slither and succulence and sly innuendo, seductive as the unseen rustle of silk stockings on voluptuously entwined sleek legs. Like a hint of mystery and erotic intrigue behind discreetly locked doors, the unheard cries and whispers of soft violence and sweet blandishments in a thousand sorority bedrooms. A sound drenched in perfume and dripping with sex. Delicious! A sound she could almost taste...
My sound? The sound of Alida?
"Oooh, if I could only make it this way. With your tongue up my ass, a real climax, what a blast that would bet Might take all morning to get there, though. Better let me turn-"
"Umm, stay! I'll use my hand. Just lift up a little."
"Come on, lover, why settle for second best? I can get frigged any time, right now you've got me primed for something more than just a fingerfuck. Even a fancy one, circus style-all hunched over, is that how you want me? Like on a prayer rug, maybe. Oh shit, which direction is Mecca?"
"Blythe! Don't. Must you make a joke of it?"
"Okay, okay. No jokes. And no more bright ideas, either, no frigee, no fuckee, no nothing." The creamy-smooth body rolled over indolently, a slow but unswerving spiral that effectively ended one avenue of approach and opened another. "Nothing but a nice little cunt for you and a nice long tongue for me... "
"Oh! You shaved again last night?"
"Uh-huh. In a manner of speaking. I forgot it myself, you know? Wait, let me check. Hmm. Not , huh?"
"Very good. I should have spotted it right away. How'd you get way underneath like that?"
"I had help."
"Huh? Oh.
"Kid handles a razor just fine. And willing, too. I've got a slave now, not a fag-girl. Don't gripe, Alida, I was lucky to have her around last night. An emergency, kind of, and Meg was right here when I needed her. Did my hair and nails and even helped me pack, all smiles and glad to do it."
"Pack? You're going home again?"
"Afternoon bus. They called me pretty late, after you went out. No emergency really, nobody sick or dying or anything like that. Just dying for the pleasure of my company, I guess. The patter of little feet around the house. My stepmother's been developing a sentimental streak lately. I can't figure it out."
"Menopause maybe?"
"I doubt it. Menopause, no, she's not that old. Just the right age for hot flashes, though-only not the kind you'll read about in stork-and ovulation class. Anyway, I'm sorry about the weekend, about leaving you alone again so soon. Except that I think you're pretty foolish to crawl into a shell and sulk. I've given up asking you to be nice to Meg-but if it's of any interest at all. she's under orders to be nice to you."
"Under orders? Blythe, you're putting me on."
"Try her and judge for yourself. She's never disobeyed me yet and I've been jumping on her harder every day. Last night, especially, and she just lapped it up like a kitten with a bowl of milk. That's what makes a slave a slave. Obedience. I might even wallop her ass some time, just to give her a taste of discipline. Not that she'll ever need it, the way I've been breaking her in. Just for kicks, maybe, something to keep her guessing. That's what makes a mistress a mistress-that extra little something, you know?"
"Honey, you frighten me. I just can't relate...
"Oh shit, it's just a game. Only it's no fun unless we play it for real. The kid knows that. And so should you. I'm still the same lovable roomie with the same lovable cunt. Hot, too. Hear it sizzle?"
"Uh-huh. The same lovable sizzle. Do we have time? I ought to take a final peek at my French book before-"
"Here. Peek at this. Never mind the silly old book; what better inspiration could a cuntlapper get? You'll do okay. Yeah! And listen, about this weekend, try to have a bit of fun with Meg even if it's just to pass the time. And if you want some real cooperation, try a little sugar instead of vinegar. A little flattery never hurt anybody, right? Give the kid a cheap thrill, say something nice about her. She's sensitive about her thick lips; tell her you think they're sexy or hot-looking or anything like that. You'd be surprised what results you might get. Oooh! You're getting results now, you lovable cunt-lapper... "
That too might have been a phony compliment, but Alida didn't mind at all. Perhaps she was already learning the value of sugar as opposed to vinegar. In any case, it made her thirst for more of the the same-and more of this, too, the sugar that was all excitement and sweet wine, the hot passion-wine squeezed from the swollen pulpy passion-grapes of this little vineyard without vines, a ferment of intoxication that smeared and chafed and soothed her face all at the same time, the enravishing essence of cunt...
"You needn't worry about that exam today. French? Honey, you could write the book!"
Alida didn't mind that either, even if the compliment was meant to be funny this time. Inspired, she dropped to her knees off the end of the bed and ducked way down low for an instant to offer a token of her appreciation, a quick but thorough tongue swipe that lavished a world of affection in one round-trip journey. The gurgle of pleasure that reached her ears wasn't phony or funny, the best compliment yet-but there was still another on the way, of course, the perfect tribute, a compliment so great that she could only greet it with a similar one of her own. A clitoral convulsion between her lips. Perfectly timed, too! Worth an A-plus on any exam Could even a native Frenchman do better? Now a Frenchwoman, perhaps...
CHAPTER EIGHT
Feeling a little foolish, Blythe performed a slow pirouette to show off her costume, the baby-doll pajamas that she hadn't worn for ages. Blue, to match her eyes. Or close enough, anyway, since the fabric was a kind of see-through sheer that didn't project its own color much. The nipples of her tits stuck out even when they weren't aroused-like now, for instance-and the tiny blue panties were just a wisp, no more. Lots of ruffles, naturally, the kind of junk an older woman might wear to a sexy masquerade party, but it only made a young kid look even younger, hardly an advantage to a college girl in her teens.
"Fine. Just right, darling."
"You think so?"
"I said so, didn't I? Are you contradicting me? Or perhaps you're just trying to provoke a spanking, hmm?"
"N-no. Raquel, what are you so mad about?"
"I'm not, really. Not now. For a minute there, I you were acting snotty to get me steamed up enough to forget your date tonight. But that's not so, is it?"
"Of course not. I promised. I'll go. I'll suck her off good, just like you said. But why do I have to put on old pajamas that make me look like a baby? Answer me that."
"It's just a sweet gesture on your part, that's all. The baby of the family. Your mother and I are getting on in years and it does our old hearts good to see youth around. Don't try to grow up too soon, dear."
Blythe shrugged in lukewarm agreement and swung around to primp a little in front of the mirror. She hadn't exactly relished the obvious "mother" bit, but contradicting Raquel didn't seem like a smart idea at the moment.
"There now." She turned and dropped a mock curtsy. "All niced up and pretty. Do I pass inspection?"
"Come here."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Closer. Uh-huh. Very nice indeed." Raquel's hand moved swiftly, brusquely, and all of a sudden the blue panties were dangling at half-mast. "And smooth, too, even smoother than last time. Did you get your friend to-"
"Oooh!"
"Smooth and sensitive. Stop wiggling around like that. This isn't supposed to be sexy, you know. I'm just checking. Mmm, not a whisker. Whoever shaved you did an excellent job."
"My fag-girl. The kid from the orphanage. Oh shit, are you still checking? Keep that up and I'll be creaming all over the place. And do my panties have to hang like this, halfway on and halfway off? It's embarrassing."
"In front of your old governess? I know too much about you, darling, don't ever be embarrassed because of me."
"Okay. So can I pull the panties up? Or take them off? I mean if you're going to frig me like that... " Blythe moaned and let her body sag, stretching the constricting garment to the limit to open herself up wide to the unpredictable hand. "Come on, a little deeper, just a teeny bit more." Her hips bucked, seeking relief. "Don't you want me to make it suck your finger?"
"Coquette! Such a sweet coquette. Pretty little peehole wants to suck my finger? You mean there?" The fingertip struck with unerring accuracy, ruthless as a bolt of lightning and only slightly less spectacular, and Blythe was nearly shriveled to a cinder. Even after the touch eased off, her body continued to jerk and twitch as the voice went on crackling in her ears. "How does your hot little cunt feel now? Still want a finger to suck? You've got my sympathy, dear, I'm in the same kind of fix myself. Only bigger and much worse than yours, though-my great big old cunt wants a head to suck, the head of a pretty little girl. Hmm. I've got a mind too... "
"I'll do it! Let me. I'll stick my head inside your cunt and we'll both suck at the same time. Oh shit, you got me so hot, Raquel, I'm liable to fall in and drown. Come on, just give me that great big juicy cunt of yours... "
"What? And leave your poor mother all alone and lonesome and just pining for her baby? That's no way for a child to behave just because of a little over stimulation. Take your problem along; I'm sure Ondine will be sympathetic, too. Her cunt isn't as big, but it's nice and warm and hairy, the kind of mother-cunt any respectful little girl would be glad to suck."
"Aw... you don't have to be so-"
"Your drawers are drooping, kid. Pull them up. Better be on your way now, she's waiting for you. Show her a good time, huh? You know how. It'll all be for the best in the end, maybe even this summer -I mean the whole summer vacation with your friends from the sorority. Wouldn't you like to have that little fag-girl of yours around when school closes? Like a pet, maybe? You just mind Raquel and it'll all come true. You'll see. Now put a smile on your pretty face and run along. Scat!"
The smile was the simplest of Blythe's problems and mounting puzzlements. All but stunned by this unexpected switch toward a sincere and confidential attitude, she could only tuck Raquel's final plea into a corner of her mind and carry on with grim determination and high .hopes. And a mildly ravenous crotch, too, quite clammy now, suffering from a bad ease of salivation without satisfaction.
But carry on she did, moving resolutely toward the fate that awaited her this night, stopping only once in the hallway to readjust the already dampening panties. That didn't help much though; it was just a wet rag that would have to come off at the first opportunity. Forcing the requisite smile, she knocked for entry and went into her stepmother's room with demure dignity, forgetting her discomfort momentarily in the rather startling atmosphere. Candlelight, no less, a pair of flickering candles bathing everything in a mellow golden glow interspersed with soft-edged wavering shadows. Romantic, to say the least, and far from unappealing.
Even the plump figure on the bed appeared more pleasing. Clad in a negligee, Ondine sat up with a gleeful grin of welcome and then, almost as an impulsive afterthought, wriggled out of the garment in , a hurry. "Oh, you look so pretty... " Her eyes glistened in evident approval. "Absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you." The flattery wasn't hard to take. "You look nice tonight, too."
"Sweet thing. For me it's just the candlelight, though. It does give the place a certain something, don't you think? Pose for me, darling, let me just drink in the sight, hmm?"
Again Blythe felt herself responding to the admiration. She glided closer to comply with the not unreasonable request, quite cheerful now. Except that the movement brought a tough but timely reminder of past complaints, and she seized the opportunity to get rid of the offending panties-a relief-and then the top piece, too, just to keep abreast of her naked hostess. Bare tits called for bare tits, and those big ones weren't bad at all in this low-key lighting. Her own lacked heft, of course, but shape was just as important as size, if not more so. Anyway, just the idea of her hairless cunt picking up a luminous sheen from the candles was temptation enough.
The pajamas cast aside, she lifted her arms overhead and rotated seductively, always conscious of the hot gaze feasting on her young flesh. Even in this less than perfect situation, it was nice to be appreciated. Her nude body had those eyes popping. Just for the hell of it, she tossed in a few slow and sexy contortions, striptease-type stuff, glancing down out of sheer curiosity now and then to see the shimmering gold candlelight reflected on the slick surface of her jutting cunt. That alone made the show a success, and she felt pretty good taking a few small steps like that and ending up right next to the bed. And then right on it as a hand reached up to haul her down. Gently, though, not rough at all. Like a silent invitation to snuggle...
A little out of breath, Blythe rested her head upon the pillowing softness. After a while she turned and buried her flushed face between the big comfortable tits and smothered the last of her earlier feeling of reluctance. The flesh yielded to the contours of her cheeks, soft and warm and sweet-smelling, and soon the surrounding tenderness was all that seemed to matter. The gentle hand had moved up to stroke the back of her neck and now the fingers were playing around and getting tangled in her hair. It felt just fine. Everything. Not very sexy, really, not like the excitement of waving her bare cunt all over the place a couple of minutes ago, no, this was calm and peaceful, just friendly. But good, though. Until she heard that asinine whisper buzzing in her ear.
"Isn't this cozy, darling?" The whispering voice was kind of nice at first, especially when Ondine's lips came close enough to stir up a little shivery sensation with her hot breath. But then she had to go and spoil it, for some reason. "Aren't you glad we finally got together? I'm beginning to feel like a mother now, a mother holding her own sweet baby. I never had one, you know, no precious little baby to cuddle. Like this, I mean-isn't it lovely? And so natural, too, the way we started, the way you came into my arms and just put your little head on my bosom. Oh, I'd love to be a real mother to you. If you'd let me. Or even just pretend maybe, that would be almost as good. Mother. I'd be happy even if you just called me that some time. Mother. It has such a sweet sound. And if I could only hear it from my own sweet baby...
The wistful murmur faded there, just short of breaking out into a lullaby. Blythe kept her temper bottled up, but couldn't quite suppress the chill that shuddered through her body. Of all the sentimental drivel! She was tempted to spit in the old cow's eye and make a beeline for the door. Naked, of course, leaving the baby pajamas for Mother-dear to cry over. And waggling her bare ass on the way out, maybe, just to give her something really worth crying about. Exit by candlelight, a Delta to the bitter end!
Oh shit, then what? Trouble with Raquel, for one thing. And dashed hopes, for another; wouldn't it be a groove if she really could invite the kids for the summer? Spring weekends, too-hadn't she already figured on that? It would be a shame, then-and no less asinine than that "mother" shit bending her ear!-to blow her chances for the sake of a dramatic gesture.
Still, she had to do something to get past this awkward lull without sacrificing her pride. An immediate answer was expected, probably, but hardly imperative under the circumstances. Provided the subject could be shunted aside casually or supplanted by one of near-equal magnitude, perhaps-a risk either way. Silence seemed the only refuge at the moment. Unless... hmm...
Magnitude? Silence? Simple enough to a mind unclouded by emotion: when in doubt, attack! Stick with the original battle plan, too, trust Raquel to know the score. Why fumble around; didn't they already have a nitty-gritty to get down to?
The candlelight and the compliments had sidetracked her, of course, turning her coy at the wrong time, but Blythe recalled the purpose of-her visit only too clearly now. Tits weren't even a safe preliminary at this point and she slid away quickly, slowing down over the ripe belly dome to get her bearings mostly and then lingering to give a poor old fat woman an extra thrill. Buttering her up for the kill. It worked just fine, too-she heard a faraway gasp explode from behind clenched jaws and pretty soon the kiss-lubricated belly began a response of its own, writhing around eagerly but just as slowly, writhing in sensuous rhythm to her licking tongue. Starting to heave a little, too, but always the same-as though that big belly was only pushing to show its need for more and more of this obviously flattering type of lip-service...
All well and good, but the proprieties had been taken care of and Blythe just plunged through the bush of hair without any further dawdling, wedging the slit open with her face and drawing a few deep breaths to get used to the still-unfamiliar scent. She bobbed her head up and down for a similar purpose, just trying to commit this slippery sensation to memory. A calculated approach, true, almost clinical in a way, even if the sudden dive into the depths did have all the earmarks of a compulsion. Something like that, anyway, the earmarks especially-in almost to the lobes. But not too deep to shut out Ondine's somewhat surprising comment.
"How you must love it! You do, you do. Don't you just love the taste of my cunt?"
"Mmm?"
"Lucky girl. Lucky to love anything that much. You make me wish I could taste it myself. Oh, such a hot little cuntlapper! And still only a baby...
That ended the calculated approach. Only a baby. After bossing the kids in the sorority house'? Hah' Oh hell, what did that dumb bitch know anyway? It was just what a phony mother would say. Did she really believe that shit?
Blythe scrambled upward swiftly. She looked down into the liquid brown eyes and then bent her head to take possession of the sealed mouth. It must have come as a shock; the eyes went hazy as if they lacked understanding. But then the lids flickered and drooped and the lips appeared to soften, no surrender but not exactly a resistance either.
It didn't matter. Either way, Blythe had no intention of letting herself be scared off. It was too late to try to save face anyhow and she forced the contact and just clung. Until the moist lips parted slightly to put up a protest-or so it seemed; maybe it was only a pretense, a little face-saving there, but why wait to find out?-and she just stuffed her tongue into the opening and held on like that, wiggling around inside her stepmother's mouth, practically drooling into it. Enjoying the struggle immensely now, too.
She was almost disappointed when the other tongue finally got hot enough to end the suspense. The contact broke when she lifted her head, but the big pink mouth remained open just an inch below hers and now the brown eyes were peeping out, still hazy, blinking with a kind of puzzled patience. Blythe savored her triumph.
"Well? You did want a taste, didn't you? A taste of your own cunt? You liked it, I hope."
"Oh... "
"Maybe there's more on my lips. Lick it off. Lick good around the inside of my mouth, make sure you get it all. Do it right and maybe I'll suck you again and bring up some more later. Only you'd better get all of this first, though, and if licking doesn't do it try sucking. Come on, Mother dear, suck all the cunt juice out of your little baby's mouth! Don't you want to be a good mother?"
The reaction was so fast and frantic that Blythe went a bit hazy herself. She couldn't remember a hotter kiss. The way that tongue licked and that mouth sucked! Not skilled, just hot. Mother was doing just fine by her little baby, carrying out the commands to the letter. Maybe she only wanted her cunt sucked again. Or maybe she was hoping for another taste, the novelty of tasting her own cunt. But there was something else involved now, something much bigger, something that would carry over into everything they ever did together. Years and years. A lifetime or two. Maybe they'd begin believing it after a while, too. Phony was still pretty wild, though; who could figure it, a whole new bag of thrills-so hot.'-just from a little lesbian incest?
"Good. I'm proud of you, Mother. Spread your legs, I'm going to get some more for you, more of your nice tasty cunt. Heave your ass around this time, so I can pick up an extra thick smear. Oh, you'll love licking your cunt off your baby's face!"
CHAPTER NINE
It was strictly a snow job, Meg realized, although why Alida would want to flatter her was more than she could understand. It had something to do with Blythe being away for the weekend, quite likely- maybe Alida missed her so much that even the company of a lowly fag-girl was preferable to loneliness. Friendly company, of course, certainly a new twist in their relationship.
Big deal. Flattery or not, Meg figured on finishing up pretty quick and getting the hell out of there. It wouldn't take very long. On weekends, cleaning an upper-class room was just a courtesy job, never compulsory, and a superficial "once over lightly" would suffice. Actually, she was only doing it at Blythe's suggestion, although it did seem a bit odd to find Alida here at her desk when the weather was so beautiful outdoors and the whole campus blossoming. The house was practically empty and the tennis and volleyball courts full; even the non-athletic types were doing their studying or loafing out in the green grass and sunshine.
Meg didn't mind this small amount of work, really, not when the order came from her beloved Blythe. Her beloved mistress! Yes, ever since Thursday night-mistress-what else could she call such a tyrant. Crouching and painting the toenails of those pretty feet had been a labor of love. Shaving that sweet cunt after sucking it, and then sucking it again afterward, what joy! Such a weird kind of joy, too, a slavish pleasure that turned her humility into a delicious thrill. Blythe's words had been true, sure enough-my own sweet slave girl!-true at the time and an already accepted prophecy of the future. Mistress and slave...
"Hey, how are you doing? About finished?"
"Just about."
"Don't work too hard, kiddo. Who works on weekends!"
"It's okay. But thanks anyway, Alida. It's nice of you to say that. A few minutes more, that's all."
"Uh-huh. I'm not always crabby, you know. As a matter of fact, I feel pretty good today. Except for... well... "
"Hmm?"
"I've got a small sex problem."
"Oh?"
"And no one to take care of it for me."
The atmosphere in the little room was tense all of a sudden, unbearably so, and Meg knew the reason for those little flattering remarks a while ago. She continued working, aware that her face had grown uncomfortably hot, anxious to finish and get out before the roof caved in. It threatened that. Or worse!
"Kid?"
"Hmm?"
"I don't hear you volunteering."
"Volunteering?"
"Don't act stupid. About my sex problem, remember?"
"Oh. That. Alida, I'm sure you've got plenty of friends in the house who would be glad to-"
"Friends, eh? Sure. But why should I go looking for friends when I've got a fag-girl right here? And with such beautiful thick lips, too."
"You said that before. About my lips. Is that what you were leading up to? Your sex problem?"
"What else? You're finally getting the message, huh? Took you long enough. You just aren't a very-smart slave. I must say, not a smart slave girl at all."
"Please! Don't call me that. I'm Blythe's slave, not yours!"
"Fine. Obey her, then. Didn't she tell you to be nice to me? Why don't you start doing just that? With those lips of yours. Who needs a slave? I just want a good cuntlapper."
"Oh.
"Better watch your step, kid. If you promised to obey Blythe, don't try to back out. Play it safe and don't cross her. Or she just might beat your ass! She did tell you to be nice to me, right?"
Anew sensation gripped Meg, a kind of queasy excitement, and she wondered if her stomach was going to stand the strain. The idea of a spanking was just vague nonsense, mostly, but with Blythe who could tell? It wasn't even a painful idea, just kind of scary-maybe even a fun thing-and for her beloved mistress, well, she would put up with just about anything. But a shocker like that would have to be strictly between the two of them, not concerned with anyone else, certainly not with Alida. Let it be done with love, not anger. Not in strife over a roommate! And they all knew what being nice to her meant.
That left no way out, of course, no way to escape this girl's clutches without acting disloyal toward the one person who mattered, her only real friend in the Delta cat-jungle. No way, no exit, no end to her predicament except through submission. Total and abject surrender! Only she sure, wished it didn't have to be this one, aristocratic Alida Ware with her long black hair and her long white perfect legs, oh shit, she even looked like a goddamn aristocrat. Tall and slim and shapely, all flowing curves without an ounce of superfluous flesh, smooth everywhere, the kind of skin that never showed a blemish, not even an adolescent pimple. Perfect lips, too, perfect in shape and color and texture. Beautiful! Which only made Meg hate her all the more, naturally.
"Alida?"
"Yeah, kid?"
"Still got that sex problem?"
"Uh-huh. Worse than ever. You volunteering?"
"I'm volunteering."
"Yeah, I figured you might." Alida rose from her desk with a triumphant little chortle, stripping off her panties and tossing them aside carelessly, a new touch of litter in the otherwise tidy room. She fell back angled across her bed lazily, one leg dangling to the floor. "Come on, kid, do me some good."
Rage clenched Meg's fists. The aristocrat was acting like a bitchy tramp; even her manner of speech had coarsened. Too deliberate an act, though, Why give her the satisfaction seeing its effect? Meg let her wrath dwindle, praying for the day to come when she wouldn't have to kowtow to this snob. At the moment, however, she could only play her lowly fag-girl role.
"Your panties. Shall I drop them in the hamper?"
"Huh? Forget it, sweetie. This is more important. Never mind the room, just pay attention to me."
"Uh... you want me to-"
"Just come here and suck, that's what I want, just take care of my horny cunt. Shouldn't be so tough for you, not with those hot lips of yours. At least I hope they're hot. They'd better be. A little enthusiasm helps, you know?"
The tone was insolent, almost harsh, with more than just a hint of demand noticeable. Even a threat, maybe. Moving to the bed, Meg was more conscious than ever of her subservient function in this ugly affair. She was a thing, not a person, even lower than a fag-girl now, a wind-up doll with instant enthusiasm. Hot lips or else! A solution to somebody's sex problem, nothing more.
The angle of the slender limbs seemed awkward, it made them look like straight sticks coming to a crude convergence somewhere inside that partially rucked-up skirt. Meg sank low, swallowing her resentment along with her pride. The feeling of repugnance just wouldn't go down, though, and she shut her eyes to avoid the sight of what lay in store for her. Between the thighs and beneath the skirt. All the way...
It was almost funny then, she felt a jolt of alarm when the hair tickled her nose-so unexpected!-a moment that turned immediately ridiculous, something to giggle about. Of course there was hair, a normal bush of hair; did she expect every cunt to be like the one that was always on her mind? No, only her beloved mistress had that cute little razor-smooth mound. Silly! But the humor helped and now her job was easier-all quite impersonal, really, an impersonal cunt that needed only impersonal treatment to reach its impersonal climax. She didn't mind being a wind-up doll now. Enthusiastic hot lips on request, just like that...
"Hey!"
"Hmm?"
"Kid, you're okay."
"Umm...
"Looks like I've been missing a good thing. Meg baby, I had no idea. Those lips of yours... " Alida's body was squirming toward the middle of the bed, the dangling leg up and bent double, lazy no longer, digging its heel into the edge of the mattress to gain purchase and power for the strenuous maneuver. "Or is it your tongue? Oh shit, whatever it is, ..."
Not so impersonal now. No snow job either, the praise sounded spontaneous and sincere, right from the heart. No, right from the cunt, this overheated and practically overflowing cunt that was a testimonial in itself. Meg had followed the scrambling maneuver with a kind of bewildered awareness, held close by the hands clutching her head, close enough to keep mouthing diligently while she wondered what all the frantic jouncing around was about. Now she knew. One last jounce and a heave of hips-and the pillow slipped under Alida's ass, the pillow she must have wanted pretty badly to go through such a struggle for. And yet she had managed it without losing contact for a single instant, hardly an impersonal gesture when the actual purpose of the pillow was to achieve even greater intimacy.
A very nice gesture, in fact. Even if the pillow had been procured in a streak of self-indulgence, the impulse itself implied a certain flattery, and Meg could only take it as a commendation to her prowess as a cuntlapper. Now, bolstered from below and raised to a peak height by the back-bending arch of that lithely postured body, the cunt was being served up to her in a most personal manner. For her own personal delight and delectation, in a way, more like a donation than a demand, and she could fulfill her part of the bargain without the slightest strain. Even when the supple thighs rose to lock around her head, she was able to remain comfortably in place and concentrate on her labor with the utmost of ease.
Not that it seemed so laborious anymore. Could sucking a cunt ever be? Even the humiliation she had suffered a while back was receding into the shadows; all that mattered was to go on getting her fair share of the goodies. Luscious goodies dished up in style, the height of service. A feast of cunt. Luscious... , "Oooh! You're really something. Kid, when you volunteer, you sure as shit volunteer! Yeah. What a mouth! Just a little bit more of that volunteering, that's all, I mean that's all, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!"
Luscious? No, loathsome! But the rage in her heart was a waning flame overwhelmed by her raging flesh, and Meg fumbled with her clothing and cursed the delay but still managed to muddle through and hook a finger inside her mortally enraged cunt in time to hit the panic button before everything went up in a puff of smoke. Just in time.
* * *
Too nervous to remain seated, Ondine stood in front of the big mirror and brushed her hair. It didn't need brushing, but the rhythmic motion helped allay her impatience. She changed hands at one point and the rings on her finger picked up the candlelight and caught her eye; she went on plying the hairbrush automatically, watching the mirrored refraction of the sparkling diamonds. A large one and a circlet of small ones, all of a certain opulence-courtesy Hubert J. Venable, deceased-the third-finger left-hand memento of her marriage. Still intact and unshakable as the memory itself, and getting a little tight these days, too, a sign of the times. Poor old pudgy widow...
She set the brush aside and took a more calculating look in the glass, seeing her face, her flushed cheeks, her bright eyes and twitching lips. Her body at its pampered best, groomed to perfection and swathed in a sheer negligee no less sexy than her bridal night dishabille. Poor old pudgy widow, eh? Good thing her mind didn't show! No bride ever had more reason to blush. That memento of her marriage had begun to spawn memories of its own lately, a little tight around the conscience, perhaps, but that too was a sign of the times. Sorority girls didn't break the rules anymore, they had learned how to - bend them like pretzels and still come up without a suspicion of beer on their collective breath. Like this weekend, for instance-wasn't it nice that the Widow Venable and her darling stepdaughter were such pals? More like mother and daughter.
Ondine's labia developed a sudden itch, one she didn't dare scratch. For reasons known only to herself. And perhaps a billion other women-give or take a million-who could create breathtaking nocturnal fantasies with nothing but their own fingers. Breathtaking indeed, sighing and moaning and sobbing as each new finger painting took its creative toll; and was she lucky to have a stepdaughter whose blond hair glowed in the dark?
It was happening pretty often too, especially on those increasingly frequent nights when she found the services of her maid tedious at best and scarcely more than temporary in effect. The morning-after usually made her feel foolish; a woman of her age jerking off, how droll! But when bedtime came it was so thrilling to see that lovely young face materialize. Like last night. And then again this afternoon, just thinking about it-although she did catch a glimpse of the real thing from her bedroom window, some excuse at least. The real thing, but in faded jeans and a sloppy T-shirt, hardly the costume to stir the stomach to an erotic stew. And yet the appeal showed through, the hint of coltish teenage gawkiness that seemed so childlike and charmingly incongruous with the nubile development of her figure. Even with her hair disheveled and her face damp with perspiration, the kid was a sexy doll. Sexy enough to build an entire dollhouse around! Watching her from behind the window curtain, Ondine had felt an attack of giddy languor come on, strong enough to send her to bed the minute the view ended. To lie down and rest and get over the dizziness by the evening. But even as her heart thumped the step-by-step short distance from window to bed, she knew it was going to happen again. The thing she did at night. With her fingers-and in broad daylight, imagine! Good grief, it was getting so she couldn't even wait until nightfall. And after doing it in bed, how could she feel like this so soon? It was starting all over again, more than just an itch now, she could see the evidence so plainly in the mirror, shining from the slits of her eyes and encrusting the tips of her tits...
"Very interesting. Admiring yourself, Ondine?"
"Oh. Darling. I didn't hear you come in."
"That's because I'm sneaky. And the door was open. I'm glad though. I got an eyeful. You're a pretty vain cunt, you know?"
"Blythe, please, you're embarrassing me."
"Uh-huh. Nice and pink. Candles again, huh? You're liable to get into a rut if you keep that up."
"Well. It was a nice rut, wasn't it?"
"Nice enough. Let's see now, how did it go? You took off your negligee first, right?"
"Oh. Like this?"
"Uh-huh. Then I got rid of my shortie pajamas. It's just a robe tonight, much simpler, so I'll skip the dance. There! Little me, naked as a jailbird. But - you're supposed to look now, don't you remember? Like you were staring at my baldy cunt with your eyes popping. Long as we're going to stay in that same rut... "
Rut or not, Ondine peered down and loved it, the center of attraction, soft as a peach but infinitely smoother. Was there ever anything so adorable?
"Okay. Your eyes popped just fine. What next?"
"Umm. We cuddled a little. On the bed."
"Let's skip that one. I like the mirror. View of your tits and ass at the same time. And you've got plenty of each. So what came after the cuddling?"
"You know."
"Yeah. Guess I went down on you, huh?"
"You-you made me taste my own cunt."
"That's right, I sure did. Pretty tasty, too, remember? Hey, you're shivering! You got the shakes or something?"
"I-I'm sorry... "
"Oh shit, you can't stop. You're excited! So that's it, that's the rut you like so much. Right... there... " Blythe's hand moved swiftly, one finger leading the way. "Nice and hot and wet. You'll have plenty to taste. Let's make sure, though." She added more fingers, squirming and wriggling and sinking in until her entire hand was there. "How does that feel? Nice and comfy?"
"So funny... hot... "Swaying precariously, Ondine sagged at the knees and let her stance widen to accommodate the thrust. "Please! Darling, what are you doing to me?"
"Don't you know? A favor, that's what. I'm just doing a little favor for someone I like. You want to taste your cunt? Here. Here's a big handful for you. Open your mouth. Lick it!"
Ondine stood there in a state of shock, the glistening little hand probing her sealed lips. Even if only to get the ordeal over with, she wanted to obey. Anything was preferable to doing nothing and simply feeling the thick excitement collapse like a porous balloon. But she couldn't relax the tension of her jaws, a lock unbreakable from both outside and in.
"You don't want a lick? Too bad. You could hurt my feelings like that. I was only trying to help, just doing a little favor for Mommie, just trying... "
Miraculously, the lock yielded, limp as melted wax overflowing the craters of the guttering candles -and Ondine licked and sucked the cunt-dipped fingers anxiously, eager to compensate for her breach of conduct. Alive again, she turned her head this way and that to reach every surface of the tasty flesh, hitting upon a compatible mirror angle by accident and uttering a throttled sob of anguish at the humiliating spectacle of a gross-bodied pink cannibal practically devouring a little girl's arm. She swung away, thankful for the touch and taste without the sight. But then the contact was gone and her mouth felt empty and numb, devoid of sensation and gaping in idiotic anticipation, unlocked now and no more capable of closing than it had been of opening.
"You want more? Hey, you're liable to catch flies with your mouth like that. Or something else maybe. Yeah. I just might fill it full of cunt. Mine, not yours." Blythe's palm slid down her belly. "See it? Nice fresh young meat. Talk about tasty! You ought to try a scoop of this."
The lewd assurance of that slowly moving hand held Ondine in suspenseful fascination. A fingertip was parting the tiny cleft now, unfurling the creamy lips to flash a gleam of dewy pinkness inside. Baby-pink clover blossoms in a chalice of honey. But who could wait so long for such a precious sweetmeat? Jaws still agape, she sank to her knees and raised her arms in an attitude that bespoke humility and hunger, a prayerful need...
"Oh? Get it while it's hot, huh? Okay. Let's settle down and do it right, though, before we fall into another nit here in front of the mirror. Come on." Blythe whirled and strode toward the bed. "Come along, Mother dear. Cunt time at last. Come here and suck my cunt!"
Ondine made a halfhearted attempt to straighten up, an effort doomed from the start, and then she just set out on all fours to make the journey with the least amount of energy. Scrambling across the carpet, she must, have cut a grotesque figure, perhaps even a bit pathetic, but she kept looking ahead and traveling with power to spare, energized by a charge of emotional exhilaration.
"Oooh, you'll have to give me a ride like that some day. Such a pretty pink horsie. Not now, though. Now you're my pretty pink cuntlapper."
Only then did Ondine come to a full realization of what she was about to do. Cuntlapper. And her only regret was that she had wasted so many years waiting for it to happen. Already the poignant excitement of it was beyond belief and she was still not quite there yet, still stroking up and between the exquisitely fragrant young thighs and gradually lifting her head to follow the path opened by her hands. Ah yes, cunt time...
"Suck now. Suck me, Mother, suck my cunt!"
Relieved of her burden at last, Ondine knew the ecstasy of freedom. It was happening, this thing she had been so curious about for so long. The pleasure she had never tasted. The lesbian thing. Good. But even better, of course, was the other thing, the thrill of thrills, the shame and the guilt and the wickedness; was there anything more deliciously abominable than a mother sucking the cunt of her own little baby daughter?
"Hey, you're pretty good. You want to be ray steady cuntlapper? You and I ought to get along okay, you know? We both like the same thing. Keeping my cunt happy. Yeah. I'll bet you've been thinking about for this a long time. Enjoy, enjoy, Mother dear, do it nice and slow and enjoy your baby's sweet little peehole."
CHAPTER TEN
The smuggled-in bottle of wine had helped some, but Alida still had her panties on, unable to relax and go all the way. The others were naked and having themselves a ball, apparently, the music of her roommate's sighs of pleasure mingling with the noise of the fag-girl's smacking and gobbling lips. It was pretty embarrassing to watch but just as embarrassing not to, in a way, a shameful but admittedly exciting picture.
"This kid is great... " Blythe spoke in a murmur. "How about it, Alida, want to take a turn?"
"No, thanks."
"You're sure? She'd show you a good time. Meg! I think we ought to make a real party of it tonight. Wouldn't you like to suck Alida's cunt?"
"Umm? Oh. If you say so. Yes, I'd love to. If it is the wish of my dear mistress. It would give me pleasure to suck Alida's cunt and make her happy."
"Spoken like a true slave. You hear that, sweetie? My slave girl wants to make you happy. It would give her pleasure. Come on, be nice to the kid and let her nibble your pussy a little."
"Oh... please... you know I'm not-"
"Don't be such a prude! Now take your panties off and park your ass right here next to me. And no shitty excuses, huh? Unless you want me to get mad. Do it!"
That stirred Alida into action. Naked at last but still quite tense, she landed on the bed. Her cheeks flushed as Blythe yanked the fag-girl's head up by the hair and stuffed it between her spreading thighs. Immediately there was a wetness, a touch of lips, a hollow of mouth-and then a tongue, a flicking that made a remarkable combination with those thick lips. The sudden warmth made her gasp and wriggle her buttocks.
"Good, huh?"
"Uh-huh... " Trembling in embarrassed excitement, Alida leaned over and hid her face in Blythe's bosom.
"Oh? You want me?"
"You know."
"You want to kiss my tits?"
"Yes. Anything. You know."
"Tell me. I like to hear you talk."
"Talk?" That was a form of submission, the kind Alida preferred to avoid where the fag-girl she had dominated could hear it. "No! Please? Only when we're alone." Her buttocks jerked as the artful tongue began a gliding motion over her throbbing clitoris. "I just can't...
"I'll fix that. If it takes all night." Blythe sat up momentarily and tapped the top of the buried head. "Meg honey, that's enough. Sorry I was so rough on you just now. Listen, I want you to start all over again, but slowly this time. Kiss her legs and her belly before you get to her cunt. Then give her a nice suck, but take your time about it, I mean plenty of time. A good lap-job, but don't make her come. I don't want her to come until you hear me say so, understand?"
"Uh-huh. Start now?"
"Go, kitten."
Alida moaned and then shivered at the new sensation, the far-away kiss and the torture of being kept waiting. She felt the wet lips slithering around the insides of her thighs and the ticklish tingle was absolutely maddening. Her own lips were tingling, too, eager for the soft flesh of Blythe's cunt, but it was only too obvious that they were going to talk about it first.
"There now... " Blythe moved her head close, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. "You're pretty hot, huh?"
"On fire."
"You want to suck me?"
"Come on, you know I do."
"Touch me with your fingers. Touch my cunt. Isn't it nice and smooth? I may keep it shaved like that all the time. No, don't put your hand in-just pet me a little. Mmm, I like that. You want to suck it now?"
"Yes. Let me... please... "
"Not yet. Just talk to me. Never mind Meg, just tell me you want to suck my cunt."
"Oh. Must I say it?"
"Uh-huh. Like that first time, remember? I can still see you doing it, Alida, so tall and graceful-like a willow, you know?-and you hung your head and blushed. I loved that. You almost couldn't say the words. Remember that night?"
"As if I could ever forget."
"Well, tonight is a first time too, the first time you're saying it when someone else is around. That's exciting to me. Whisper in my ear, okay? Do it, honey, do it and give me a thrill."
The other presence was still a hindrance. Alida put her lips closer and forced-the words to come out. "I want to do it to you, I want to kiss your pussy...
"My pussy?"
"You know. Cunt. Your cunt!" And then the silly block was broken and she went on to give Blythe her thrill. "Your cunt, your beautiful hot cunt, oooh, I want to kiss it and lap it and suck it and eat it, your cunt-if you'll just let me, please?"
"Wait. I love this. The way you look when you're embarrassed and excited. Let's talk some more."
"I-I just-oh, I'm so hot! Can't I just do it? Please, darling, won't you let me? I've got to. Something. Anything!"
"Well now. If you're that desperate. But I shouldn't give in so easily or you'll think I'm just a pushover. No. No cunt for you. Hmph! I'll just have to offer you my ass instead."
"Oh... "
"But then you'd have to roll over to get to me. And it wouldn't be fair to disturb Meg again, after she obeyed me so nicely. Hey, how about trying it this way?"
"Huh? Where are you-"
"Don't fret, I'm not running out on you. Now if I can just do this without losing my balance... "
"Blythe!"
"Why all the guss? There's a first time for everything. And it's not so different, really, just the position. So let's make tonight a first time for this, too. Another night to remember. If I don't take a tumble before-hey, open your eyes! Look up at me. See my nice round ass? Don't you dare chicken out now, it's still the same beautiful ass, no different up here. Yeah. You want to kiss it. Love it. Suck it. Yeah, you sure do. But, not yet! I want to see your tongue first. Stick it out. Oh, that's beautiful, darling, that nice long tongue of yours-you've got it dancing for me, huh? Make it dance up my ass now. I'm going to sit right down on your beautiful face. Tongue. Up my asshole! Oooh... "
Alida struggled for breath. The soft flesh settled upon her cheeks, splitting and widening to absorb her face into the cleavage as the tiny hole absorbed the length of her tongue. She loved this place and tried to do it justice, but the tongue in her own body was doing things, too, more than she could cope with -everything going on at the same time!-enough to put her on the brink of a climax even though it wasn't supposed to happen yet. Breathing wasn't so important now, somehow, not even when the weight became heavier and threatened to crush the very life out of her, oh shit, she would just explode inside that fag-girl's hot leeching lips and die a happy-death under the spell of this hot slippery ass...
If only she could have! If only that treacherous phone hadn't rung! If only Blythe had chosen to ignore it! At a crisis like this-the goddamn telephone -wasn't that a new world's record for bad timing?
* * *
Had it been within grabbing distance, Blythe, might have answered the phone from her passionate perch. As it was, though, she had to break up the threesome-which became an immediate cue for the remaining two to separate, thus shattering the mood completely. Not that the loose threads couldn't be picked up and rewoven later, of course, provided the customary bathroom respite for face-washing and such didn't cause a permanent chill.
Anyway, the phone call was pretty important and Blythe simply concentrated on what Raquel had to say. They wanted her home again for the weekend- oh, that greedy Ondine!-but the way had now been paved for a young guest, finally, and would she invite one, of those interesting sorority friends of hers? Even if only for the sake of companionship, especially on the dull bus ride. Raquel sounded pretty proper, almost businesslike for a few minutes, evidently conscious of being overheard, but then she loosened up toward the end after a quick check to make sure Ondine wasn't still hanging around within earshot. Not as loose as certain phone calls in the past, but enough to get her point across. A number of points, as it turned out, all somewhat indefinite except for a common purpose.
"These are just some ideas,-mind you, they may not appeal to you at all. Or even be possible. But you do see what I'm driving at, don't you?"
"Uh-huh. I get the message, Raquel."
"Got an idea of your own, maybe?"
"Not offhand. None of yours rings a bell either, though. Tell me more. Something a little wilder than just parading around in sexy shorts. We could sunbathe in bikinis, but I doubt if the weather will be hot enough yet. Besides, why do we have to be subtle about it? A little sorority-type entertainment... "
"Hmm. Maybe you know your stepmother better than I do. Hang on, I just had a thought. Let me get it straight in my mind. Or at least try." Raquel's voice sounded a speculative note; then, after a long silence, "Blythe?"
"I'm here."
"Listen... " The words started hesitantly but picked up speed and intensity in a hurry, a rushing torrent over the wire.
The specific idea seemed dubious at best-but as the underlying theme became unmistakably clear, Blythe's breath quickened in mounting excitement. The garrulous prattle continued, but she was no longer listening, too engrossed in her own plan for a more feasible thematic variation. After a while she managed to squeeze a word in edgewise for a polite but firm interruption that soon brought the call to a close. Relieved, she hung up with a spuriously casual gesture that may have fooled her friends-both out of the bathroom by now-but did nothing to quell the ecstatic little ripple that was using her naked spine for a racetrack...
"Anything important?" Alida had a curious and somewhat concerned expression on her face, still a bit aroused and. apparently wondering about a possible resumption of the festivities. "They want you home again this weekend?"
"Well... " Shrugging noncommittally, Blythe rose to her feet. "I'm supposed to give it some thought. Hey, you two both had a chance to wash up, huh? My turn now, let me jump into the shower before I start smelling like a locker-room butch. I'll only be a few minutes. Why don't you kill the rest of the wine meanwhile? Drink a toast to me maybe, something appropriate. A clean body and a dirty mind, how's that?"
The pallid exit-line drew no more than pallid smiles, but it got her into the bathroom without further questioning. For that matter, even the shower was mainly subterfuge, a place to be alone and come to a quick decision. A weekend guest, sure, but which one? Alida's spectacular beauty would go over great, no doubt, but for fun and games-that kind- Meg was a lot easier to handle. Too bad they couldn't both get in on it. Between the two of them...
Hmm. Between the two of them? Lucky Pierre!
Blythe giggled into the shower stream. Between the two of them, one in front and one in back. Like that time in her room at home, the big mirror and plenty of imagination-one horny Delta doing a two-handed jerk-off! An intriguing notion, certainly, and wasn't this a grand opportunity to put it into practice? Two more horny Deltas just waiting for the right slot to fit in. Why not? It would be more fun than stewing over the weekend guest problem, anyway. And think of that lovely feeling of togetherness!
She poked her head out from behind the shower curtain. "Hey, darlings, I'm coming out now. Want to lend a hand?"
Back inside again and rinsing off, she felt pretty confident about the response to her shout. Each had served her in just that way often enough. And after that little unfinished orgy out there-with wine, yet-each would be eager to serve her again. Maybe her power over them wasn't absolute, but she was positive of that much; and hadn't she been paying attention to such things lately?
Power! Two towels were waiting to dry her wet body when she stepped onto the bathmat. Four hands worked diligently to attend her needs. Simple needs at first, just the drying and powdering and spraying with perfume. But when such simple tasks ended, she saw no reason to risk destroying the mood of cooperation just for the sake of comfort on a soft bed. Not this first time. Besides, the three naked bodies had already radiated a wealth of warm wall-to-wall intimacy in this cramped bathroom. She just stood there motionless, seemingly oblivious to the sudden lull.
Alida sighed. "That about does it, hmm?"
"Well... "
"Something else?"
"Could be." A giggle, a fleeting instant of embarrassment, quite unexpected; then, "Not exactly in the same line of work, though. I just figured we might keep the party going right in here. Unless I'm the only one who hasn't cooled off."
"Oh. Still horny?"
"Uh-huh. And the atmosphere is so cozy...
"Okay. What do you want us to do about it?"
"Silly question. Do you need three guesses, Alida?"
"I mean, uh, which one of us do you... "
"That's simple. I want you both."
"Both? Hah! I knew we shouldn't have drunk that toast. A clean body and a dirty mind. Honey, are you serious?"
"Dead serious. Of course, if you'd rather not... "
Blythe swung her gaze, all smiles and affection now. "Little slave? Do I have to command you?"
Meg shook her head, glancing at Alida warily out of the corner of her eye. Then, almost strident in the abrupt hush, she uttered a little squeal of collusion and sank to her knees. Blythe's belly twitched in the blast of that hot breath, anticipating the touch of those grotesquely sensual lips, and she yielded to the upturned face with a small arching motion that split the flesh of her cunt and sucked back at the already enraptured sucking mouth. Aglow with pride at the smoothly accomplished achievement of this partial victory, she recognized the signs of total fulfillment in the making. Alida looked pretty grim standing _; there fidgeting in nervous agitation, unhappy but obviously hooked now, her reluctance belied by dark eyes pleading for permission to surrender. There was no reason to postpone the issue, Blythe decided.
"Hey, old buddy, don't be bashful."
"Huh?"
"There's room for you." Then, with a pout of disapproval for the stubbornly shaking head, "Don't be like that. I'm not asking for anything you haven't done before."
"Hush. You trying to embarrass me?"
Blythe formed a little embrace with her hands, placing the palms over the kneeling girl's ears and intensifying the contact with another pelvic thrust. "There now, she's in her own pink cloud; why would she even notice you?"
"Pink cloud. Well ..."
"Come on. Give me that long tongue of yours. A kiss at least, if that's all you can spare. But right where I need it, huh?"
And then Alida couldn't hold out anymore, she just licked her lips and vanished in search of a pink cloud of her own, and pretty soon the intimately scented bathroom was silent save for the barely audible sucking and licking sounds. Posed in the majesty of her triumph, Blythe couldn't help but wish for a big mirror like the one in her room at home. No fingers now, though, just tongues, the real thing, one in front and one in back, a cunt-tongue and an ass-tongue, and she had to be sure to apportion the swaying weight of her body equally between them. In the same way that she would always divide her favor, fifty-fifty, even if one was her best friend and the other only her fag-girl. After all, they were both more like slaves now, a pair of slaves at her disposal. How could she choose between the two of them?
Ah yes, between the two of them! And how easily it had come about, just a little magic, a knowledge of the use of power. Too bad she couldn't take both along this weekend; didn't every good magician rate at least two assistants? But she couldn't worry about that now, not with a cuntlapper and an ass-licker and a climax all converging in her flesh at the same time. Who could even think with so much going on?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sitting quietly as the car headed out into the open countryside, Alida relaxed and let Charlie do all the talking. Or at least she tried to relax. But it felt pretty strange to be driving out of town knowing she was about to get herself laid. Strange to be doing something so normal...
And of course the change in locale had a lot to do with this feeling of strangeness, too. She felt like an alien here in her own hometown, almost in her own home even. Maplemoor had become more of a home to her these past two years; this was her first weekend away from the Delta house in ages. A long distance away, too, much farther than Blythe had to travel to get home.
Oh shit, she didn't want to think about Blythe now, not with this nice guy sitting next to her working so hard to be impressive with his jokes and chatter. Only he did seem a bit juvenile, somehow, no more than mildly entertaining at most, and it was easier to smile and nod her head and hide inside her own thoughts. Her mind just naturally drifted back I to that same place, the place she had left behind on such a sudden impulse, the place she would be returning to in time for Monday morning classes.
Returning in a better mood, hopefully. She was still raw with the hurt and humiliation of that sex scene in the bathroom. Maybe it was only vanity, but the idea of being treated almost like a fag-girl was just too much. Worse yet was Blythe's uncompromising and even insolent attitude afterward, rubbing it in actually, telling her she had to learn to accept Meg as an equal from now on. They had come pretty close to bitterness about it, too, the first rift in their long-standing friendship.
Alida regretted that part of it now. The quarrel. Anger. The nasty things she had said about Meg. But she didn't regret the impulse to get away for the weekend. It would have been pretty bleak in the sorority house anyway, without even the fag-girl to keep her company. The two had hatched their own plan and the kid was now a guest at Blythe's home. More important, though, was this abrupt need to see Charlie Ponsonby and become a woman again. She had even cut most of her classes to get here in time for this early evening date.
She didn't really mind his less than brilliant talk. Charlie was big and strong and good-looking, strictly a physical type. Just what she needed tonight. It would be just fine if he got a little rough and masterful in their lovemaking, too. After so much feminine foolishness, some forthright masculine brutality would probably be the best cure for her ailment. That perverted desire of hers was like a deeply imbedded hook, and its release could only be achieved with outside help. Or inside help, rather, since that was exactly where she needed it...
Uh-huh. Help was on the way, timely as a platoon of Marines. Charlie had tooled the car off the highway, seeking a likely spot to park. They jounced around as the various turns led to narrower and bumpier roads. The farmhouses thinned out and vanished, and at last he found a dirt lane that was hardly more than a wide path through the trees. Just in time to welcome the thickening darkness, too.
"We're safe here, baby. I don't see any Maple-moor deans around to catch us and bust you out of school."
Alida shuddered. "Enough jokes, please. Just kiss me."
"In a hurry, huh?"
She sank closer to the warmth of his shoulder. Knowing full well what his reaction would be, she gazed up at him soulfully and slid a pink tongue out to dampen her lips. That did it. His mouth came down hard on hers, strong lips followed by a strong tongue and then a strong hand clutching her knee. Fine as far as it went, but she was too impatient to go through the usual preliminaries. Even more boldly, her own hand clutched. She moaned in anticipation as he began to harden in her fingers. Cock. Good male cock, worth traveling all that distance for. It was getting bigger. Swelling. Stiffening to the size of what her body needed. Oh yes, she was going to be fucked tonight. Fucked good! Just as soon as she got this lovely piece of meat out and rigid and properly prepared and oriented to stuff into her hot cunt.
"Baby... baby... "
"Hmm?"
"You're too much. Come on, let's get out of the car. Not enough room for what we want."
"On the ground?"
"I'll yank the seat out. Give me a hand, huh? Although you sure just gave me one, I guess."
She ignored that and helped him. Together they set the car-seat in a small thicket of foliage. A faint glimmer of moonlight filtered through. Sheltered by the silver-streaked darkness, they sank down into their improvised bower of love.
"Alida? Kind of romantic, isn't it?"
"Romantic. But don't let that slow you down."
"Baby, you are in a hurry."
"Damn right. I didn't come all the way out here just for romance. So never mind the hearts-and-flowers routine. Come on, you know what I want."
"Don't rush me."
"The hell you say. Charlie, I like it slow and romantic as much as the next girl, but that's not my mood tonight. Right now all I want is you-so skip the fancy build-up, please. Just be a man, that's all I ask of you. It's all I need. Oh brother, you have no idea how much I need it! I've been around girls too long, nothing but girls. Do I make myself clear?"
"Clear as crystal. So clear that-"
Her lips cut him off as her hands marauded his body. She felt a twinge of contrite sympathy for the poor guy, practically a rape victim at this rate, but her own peculiar problem came first. Hauling him down, she tumbled backward on the seat and then let go only long enough to get rid of her panties. Her legs were pale in the moonlight, pale and slim and lovely rising up and gliding apart to receive him. It shocked her momentarily that she had noticed them, the beauty of her own legs; was the female body so important to her?
"Charlie, fuck me!"
"Yeah... "
The sudden thrust of his flesh brought a sob from her clogged throat, a sob of gratitude for his aggressive fervor. As if he now truly understood her need to be ravished. A man taking a woman, taking her as a woman should be taken. She had to tell him so, to thank him and inspire him to more and greater feats of manliness.
"Yes... like that, lover. So good. Give it to me. Come on, tear me apart with that thing of yours! Fuck me, fuck me, jam my cunt full of that big cock!" The very word was thrilling. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!"
The sensation of the hard throbbing prick inside her was all but overwhelming. The masculine body seemed so different, so marvelously different, and she felt herself being lifted and carried into another world. A world where there were no sorority sisters. A world where there was only a hot cunt to be fucked and a big cock to fuck it, a world of pleasure without perversion...
Endless pleasure! Only she couldn't take any more, she needed an end to the pleasure, the great big beautiful end-wasn't that what it was all about?
It wasn't Charlie's fault, oh no, the guy was doing just fine and obviously loving every minute of it. But she bad reached some sort of peak and leveled off there, a plateau of pleasure that would soon become pretty painful if it went on and on without that big bang ending. In desperate search for fulfillment, her thighs flailed and locked in a new and urgent embrace, gripping him in the depths of her passion-inflamed body.
Fulfillment remained aloof, though, jeering now and thumbing its nose at her desperation. Arching and writhing on the very edge of orgasm, she wallowed in lust and cursed the thing that was turning it into anguish. Oh yes, she recognized it now, the thing that was buried deeper than a man could reach, the barbed hook, the Blythe thing, the girl thing, the lesbian thing. Even the awful thing in the bathroom with its cluster of female flesh...
Ah! Glory be!
It was better now. Her loins pumped in renewed anticipation. Even her mind was less of a jumble. That degrading incident in the bathroom didn't bother her anymore; she could see her roommate's ass and feel just fine about it. And the kid, too, little Meg flashing out of the darkness all of a sudden, a good friend, no longer a rival. All good friends! Alida kept pumping, aware of the thing still in the background but less concerned now, seeing it only as a side issue to be investigated later. This, right here, this hard thing in her soft cunt, was her only concern at the moment. It was doing its lifting and carrying act again-back into the fuck-world-and she could feel the contraction, the beginning spasm, the end result of all this pounding and grinding, ah yes, any minute now! And after waiting so long and straining so desperately, it couldn't happen too soon for her, not one split-second too soon...
Hurry!
It wasn't too soon for Charlie either, though, and all that hurrying still fell short, not quite enough to catch up. The guy slammed away and shot his wad manfully and then wheezed to an inconvenient but well-deserved collapse. Inconvenient for Alida. But hardly cause for criticism, no, she just couldn't find fault with his performance. If the anguish was hers, so was the blame, and regardless of her sorority-house blues she was still woman enough to understand ,the sensitivity of the male ego. She put on a little performance of her own then, acting out of instinct rather than experience-just for the sake of harmony. Charlie Ponsonby was a nice guy even it his herculean effort had failed. Why let him go to bed disgruntled?
Not that anything could disgruntle Charlie tonight. On the way back to town he turned on the car-radio and sang off-key like a sparrow full of horse-shit. One happy and satisfied young man. ego intact and libido calmed. Alida could only feel envy for the sweet innocent simplicity of such contentment. Even their good-night kiss gave her a pang of nostalgia. Good-bye sweet innocence, hello depravity! Hello again...
Upstairs in her own room, she stripped naked and examined herself for signs of change, almost expecting a kind of Dorian Gray ugliness to appear in the mirror. The reflection reassured her. All quite perfect. She liked the contrast of her jet-black hair and milk-white skin. She liked her dark eyes now, too, no longer annoyed by their soft submissiveness-a kind of "velvety" quality, she had heard it called- didn't they match her yielding personality? Just like her willowy body, pliant and easily persuaded, ready to bow before even a small wind.
Well, a small but powerful wind.
She was ready now. It would have to wait until Monday, but she was ready just the same, ready to bow into the gale and accept her role as a second-rate citizen. All because of Blythe. And wasn't it nice to feel so peaceful about it at last?
Blythe had seen it first. Blythe had only done what was so obviously necessary. Blythe had forced her to see herself as she really was. How could she remain angry with someone who had done so much for her? Did she want Blythe to reform? Change her ways? Become less bossy? Ridiculous! Let it be as it was before, let it be hot and sexy and depraved and even humiliating. No changes. Just let it be!
And let it be dangerous too, oh yes, she was aware of the perils inherent in submitting to such a domineering little bitch. Given free rein, Blythe might become a veritable tyrant, a lovable little tyrant with a whim of iron. In any clash of wills, well, guess who was bound to emerge the victor.
Clash of wills? Hah! Move over, Meg, make room for another kneeling slave. Two now. More later, most likely, now that the imperious little mistress had the bit in her teeth. But two now, both quite different, each with her own special assets. Meg of the thick lips. Alida of the long tongue...
Was it? Really? She blushed at the thought, feeling her cheeks grow warm and watching the skin of her mirror-image take on a rosy glow. But the question merited an answer nonetheless, and she stuck out her tongue and examined it with a kind of critical pride. It was long, sure enough-odd that she hadn't been truly conscious of its extraordinary length before. But that was an asset, certainly, and once again she had Blythe to thank for waking her up to her own self. Oh, she could hardly wait to offer her thanks; how this proud pink tongue of hers would dance for that demanding little ass! See it dancing already?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Even now her weekend guest wasn't her usual sunny self and Blythe was trying hard the make her forget the quarrel. Not that she could blame the kid for getting so upset, really-Alida had sure sounded bitchy when the fur began to fly. Still, it was pretty silly to ignore all the pleasant prospects of this weekend because of one bad moment during the week.
"But it seems so long ago, Meg. Long ago and far away. Are you going to let one little squabble turn you into a grouch?"
"I'm sorry. Only it was more than just that once, so I guess everything is coming to a boil inside me, you know? She didn't like me right from the very beginning and was always making some catty remark in that sly way of hers. I even got to feeling guilty about it-as if it was my fault that I was born ugly and poor."
"Darling, you mustn't talk like that. Certainly not because of a few catty remarks that were prompted by nothing but jealousy. You won't always be poor, not if you hold on to your scholarship and get a Maplemoor degree. And as for being ugly, well, that's almost an insult to me. An insult to my judgment. Do you think I'd bring an ugly friend home to show off to my stepmother? Shit, no!"
"Them's kind words, partner. Thanks. Hey, are you really going to show me off? The other time I was here we stayed by ouselves mostly. I hardly saw your stepmother."
"Uh-huh. There was a reason, though, strictly between Ondine and myself. We weren't getting along; then. And now we're practically buddies-even in a ; sexy way, I mean. Remember what I told you back at school? You and I are going to put on a show for her."
"Oh. That. I figured you were only teasing. Come on, Blythe, wasn't it just a gag to frighten your poor little fag-girl? You're hot really going to order me around for the whole weekend, are you?"
"No gag. But it won't be that bad, though. We'll do it only when I feel like impressing her, that's all. Ondine and I are heading toward a showdown over who's going to be the real boss in the house, and it'll help if she sees just how tough I can be. That's where you come in, kitten. I'll want a very obedient fag-girl at dinner tonight. But we'll only act like that in front of her; when we're alone we can just relax and be ourselves. Okay? That's not so terrible, is it?"
"I-I guess not. Okay."
"You don't sound very enthusiastic. Hmph! Better look out or I'm liable to spank that chubby little ass of yours. We've got privacy in this room and the walls are pretty thick, not like at school. So I'd better get a good performance out of you!"
"Oooh, how I'm scared... "
"Just do your best. Nothing to worry about. And I'll do something nice for you when we get back to the Delta house. Not right away maybe, but soon. One way or another, I'll fix it so you can have your revenge on Alida. You'll see."
"Wonderful. I'm sold now. Blythe, as- of this moment I'm your obedient and enthusiastic little fag-girl. Or do you want me to be a slave. Should I address you as mistress?"
"Umm, no, that just might be too much of a shock for Ondine to take. Another weekend, perhaps, not this one. I'll be inviting you often after this. During the summer too, if everything-works out right. But about tonight, listen, even if we're not mistress and slave it could still get pretty wild. It'll be fun, chough-I'll bet we'll both wind up enjoying the entire business. So just play along and try to get into the spirit of the thing, huh? Even if I act kind of crazy, you'll know it's just a show we're putting on. Hmm. Now if I could only think of something really wild.
"You'll think of something. You're the smartest doll in the sorority and I'm proud to be your personal fag-girl. And humble, too. It's an honor." Meg giggled. "Hey, I'm already getting into the proper spirit, huh?"
"Don't knock yourself out. Save your pretty speeches for when we get downstairs. We're doing it for Ondine, remember?"
The smiling face turned solemn. "I-I hardly know Ondine. So I'm doing it for you, no matter who else is around. Because I'm your fag-girl and it's my duty to please you. And because I'm your slave and I want to please you."
"Oh. Sweet. Such a sweet kitten... "
"I love you. Nobody ever called me kitten before. You're the only one. When you say it I get all gooey inside. Blythe?-oh shit, I just had to tell you, that's all. And if you dare laugh at me... "
"Who's laughing?"
It was a poignant moment, all tenderness, but too much to bear for very long, and Blythe went into the bathroom on the pretense of washing her hands. Even the sight of Meg's toothbrush lying on the shelf in its plastic case did something to her, and she was glad now that the kid had begged so convincingly to bunk here instead of in one of the guest rooms. The bed was plenty big, but they probably wouldn't get much sleep tonight regardless. Just like that first weekend here together, even though the novelty had worn off since then. Well, that early novelty had worn some, but lately there always seemed to be another new and novel stunt to try, another excursion into previously unexplored territory. As if they were both natural-born explorers, too curious to go on skimming the surface and too reckless to quit even when every mysterious tunnel just led to some darker tunnel of its own. Each just as sexy as the last! Hmm. And so on ad infinitum? Unless maybe they were just traveling in circles without ever realizing it.
"Blythe? They want us downstairs."
"Okay. About time. I'm starved. Hey, it's pitch-dark outside! We've never had dinner this late before. Poor baby, you didn't even eat one of those candy bars on the bus. You must be absolutely famished."
"No. I-I'm too excited."
"That's nice. One kiss before we go. Uh-huh. Mmm. Move your lips. All set? Let's descend the staircase with the dignity becoming a Delta."
"Thanks a lot. You and your kisses. Now you've got me shaking. I'll probably fall flat on my Delta face,"
"Ass, darling. Let's not bruise those precious lips. Oh shit, I wonder why dinner was so late."
It was even later, as it turned out. Raquel was still setting the dining table and they joined Ondine in the living room. She looked pretty good, her long auburn hair especially, and wearing a dress that managed to disguise most pf her blubber. Better yet, she acted like a most cordial hostess, treating Meg with genuine smiling sincerity, enthusiastic to the point of radiance.
"Dinner will be a while longer, I'm afraid-my fault, not our hard-working Raquel's. I planned the menu myself, a festive occasion in honor of our guest. But that should give us time for a little aperitif, no? A glass of sherry? You're not at Maplemoor now, children, so do relax and have a drink and enjoy yourselves. It's good for the digestion, surely, if nothing else."
"Sherry is fine for me. And for Meg, too. But please don't call us children. Singular, maybe, but in the plural we present a united front. Never pick on two sorority sisters at the same time, you could run into a karate chop that way."
"Oh dear! I stand corrected." Ondine was leaning over the coffee table, pouring from the decanter. "Meg? You didn't say. Sherry for you, too? Or perhaps you'd prefer something else."
"Whatever Blythe is having. She chooses for me."
"Is that so? Hmm. Forgive my curiosity. I don't mean to pry, but is there some special reason... uh.
"I'm still a pledge, that's why. I belong to Blythe. If she said sherry, that's final-I'm drinking sherry."
"You-you belong to her?"
"Uh-huh." Then, demurely, "Blythe? Is it okay if I explain?"
"By all means, kitten. Do."
"Thanks. See how I just asked permission, On-dine? I did that out of respect for my big sister. I'm her fag-girl. Fetch and carry, you know? Oh, I guess it would be easier just to show you." Meg left her armchair and went to the coffee table. "Is that Blythe's drink? And I'll take this too, if I may. The tray... " She giggled infectiously and then turned demure once again, utterly charming. "Well, you did say it was a festive occasion, right?"
Blythe watched her with a certain awed astonishment, almost flabbergasted by this unsuspected theatrical flair. Holding the small tray with both hands, butler-style, the single glass of sherry exactly centered, Meg was approaching with the stately care and caution of some lifelong royal servitor. Ondine too appeared quite fascinated, an expression of mingled puzzlement and sympathy on her face. As if she sniffed some sort of put-on, but was too concerned for Meg's welfare to interrupt this excruciatingly slow and serious mission. Despite her air of faint bewilderment, it was evident that her feeling for the kid had achieved significant depth in this short span of time. By the same token, Meg too seemed quite taker, with this house and its official hostess, especially during the smiles-all-around greeting and "guest of honor" designation. Although she was playing her fag-girl role to the hilt at the moment, of course, still loyal to the cause.
It looked like a case of instant mutual appreciation nevertheless-even affection, possibly-and Blythe could only gloat over her good fortune. An immediate dislike on either side might have presented insurmountable difficulties. This way, with a little authoritative push, they might tumble into bed together quite soon. Perhaps even this weekend, if her luck held out. Mother-dear and little Meg; what a lovely way to sow the seed for a happy summer vacation!
But the kid was here with her drink now, standing alongside the chair with patient rigidity, and Blythe was still determined to go on with the show. All the more so, considering the excellent and unexpected beginning. Maybe both of them were ripe for a little shock at this point; after all, wasn't she still in the driver's seat? Hmm. She only hoped the little actress wouldn't crack under the strain and burst out laughing...
Blythe left the glass in place. Instead she reached out and put her hand on Meg's thigh, just below the short skirt. Like a little pat of commendation. Only she swung her head as if the contact had caught her eye, gazing now at the colorful picture of hand on flesh, the creamy scarlet-tipped fingers in startling contrast with the slightly tawny skin.
The kid remained motionless. After a while the hand glided upward slowly, the red nails disappearing from view. Blythe saw it as an observer, conscious of pleasant softness but more interested in the audience viewpoint, intrigued by the visual sensation rather than the tactile. So pretty! She was almost tempted to let the fag-girl butler bend over for a peek herself, but that would have risked a loss of artistic balance. Physical balance, too, a much worse risk, what with that near-full sherry glass practically panting to tilt and slosh its contents every which way. Besides, that rigid stance had been perfect thus far, even though the crawling fingers were now fooling around with the panty-crotch.
A visible effect came through at last. No bodily movement, just a gradual drooping of eyelids. Other than the regular rhythm of in-and-out breath, not a muscle quivered. A beautiful display of control, both on the kid's part and that of her controller...
Ondine came unglued suddenly. "Blythe! Must you tease the poor darling like that?"
"She likes it. Don't you? Meg?"
"Oh. Yes. I love whatever you do to me."
"And I love you for loving it. I'll have that sherry now." Blythe lowered her hand, letting it linger just beneath the hem of the skirt again, scarlet fingernails gleaming with a kind of possessive pride. She could read disappointment in the way the erect little body sagged, almost imperceptible but a droop just the same, taking over from the no longer drooping eyelids. The kid's cunt was speaking up, no doubt. But it was time to call a halt. "I think you've demonstrated the fag-girl attitude to perfection, honey. Go get your own drink and sit down so that poor Ondine can let loose of that sigh of relief she's got bottled up inside her. Before the cork pops." After that, the conversation turned sprightly but meaningless as the sherry went down, and at last dinner was announced. The table was beautifully set and the food just fine, but by that time Blythe was ravenous and could have eaten a cowflop deep-dish pie and not known the difference. She just dug right in and glanced up only now and then to exchange secret smiles with Raquel on her trips to the kitchen. Meg was properly impressed, though, and Ondine preened herself on the success of her menu, graciously sharing the credit with her efficient but obviously overworked servant who had done all of the cooking and serving and was already starting on the cleanup job.
Ondine cracked out another jug of wine, sherry again, the sweet kind this time. Everybody sat around and burped surreptitiously for a while, and pretty soon the conversation picked up and veered right back into that same far-out subject, suffusing the atmosphere with anticipation as the burps died down. Blythe was quick to notice who had brought it up again and who goosed it along during a lull, oh yes, her stepmother was probably gritting her teeth in envy because she couldn't go to Maplemoor and become a Delta and have a fag-girl of her own. Or maybe be a fag-girl, judging from how much she sympathized with Meg. Meanwhile Raquel got everything cleared away and shipshape-which was the cue that Ondine had been waiting for, apparently, and she wasted no time.
"Raquel, your dinner was excellent, but I'm sure you must be tired after all that work. Wouldn't you like to retire?"
Blythe bristled at that. "Oh, let her stay. Raquel isn't just a maid, she's like part of the family."
There was a sharp exchange of views then, but Ondine was in no position to dictate terms-after all, she didn't have a fag-girl-and Raquel finally wound up staying. Off in a corner, though, just a amused onlooker. Blythe had won a victory of sorts, but her mood had soured a bit and she was in no hurry to put on her mask and go back into show-business.
"Ondine, that dessert was terrific. Was there any left? I'd love a second helping."
"There's plenty, I'm sure. Raquel dear, would you -"
"Aw, let her relax! She made it and served it an ought to be allowed to sit and rest. I'll get it my self."
Another storm cloud loomed, but Meg leaped u and did a cute little gushing act. "Could I go? Blythe? I'd like some myself. I never tasted such delicious pudding. Kind of a creamy coconut flavor. And a little banana, too."
That cleared the air. The kid scampered off happily while everybody beamed at such youthful enthusiasm. There was some fill-in chatter for a few minutes and then Blythe got in a casual mention about having her visit during the summer. Ondine sounded agreeable enough, but soon tossed in a mention of her own, much less casual, relegating summer to its proper place and returning to the here and now, practically flaunting her impatience.
"Blythe, tell me. Just how much control do you have over her? Aren't there certain limitations?"
"I don't know. Maybe I ought to find out, huh?" Then, in a loud shout, "What's holding you up, Meg? How long are you going to keep me waiting?"
Both hands laden, the kid appeared almost instantaneously, her face rueful, obviously jolted by the harsh tone. "I'm sorry. I got a little dizzy in there. Too much wine, I guess." She set the dishes down. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Eat your dessert now. Better not sit, though, if you're that dizzy you might fall off your chair. Bring your dish here and eat it. Here on the floor."
"Oh ..."
"And never mind the spoon, kitten. Just lap it up and show me what a good kitten you are."
"Blythe? You-you really want me-"
"What's this? Aren't you my sweet kitten? No, skip the dessert now, that's only for kittens."
"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm a kitten."
"Silly! Kittens don't talk, they just say meow."
"Meow, meow... "
"Nice kitty. Now let's see you frisk around on the floor. Go! That's the way, that's a good kitty."
Watching the ludicrous antics, Blythe felt a sudden excitement and simply shelved thoughts of Ondine and Raquel and let the pleasure bubble up inside her, for herself alone. What a thrill to carry this much power!
"Good, good. Now come here and lick my hand. Right here. No, I didn't tell you to kiss it! Kittens don't kiss. Stick out your tongue, show me your pretty pink tongue. Now. My hand! Oh, that's a good little kittycat. All right. Have your dessert now."
A tiny chortle sounded from Ondine. Meg didn't even glance up, already carrying out the order. A fresh heat rose in Blythe's flesh as she peeped down at her fag-girl. Her pet kitten. The little animal had its face buried in the creamy goo. She reveled in the sensation, proud of her prowess-and rightly so. Only a short while ago she had known nothing about this sort of thing and now she had a real slave girl. But this feeling was just too good to share anymore-and anyway, wouldn't it be fun to leave poor On-dine squirming around like that? Nothing could top this tonight, and wasn't that the best time to close a show?
"Meg?"
The kid angled her head up, licking sticky froth from her lips, those sexy thick lips. Then, "Meow?"
"Come on, darling. Upstairs to bed. Don't bother to say goodnight, I'll take care of that. Scat!"
Blythe didn't hang around to say good-night either, just a quick wave that included both her stepmother and her old governess, and she raced up after her scampering kitten. Once inside the room, she burst into a fit of giggles and pretty soon Meg came out of her daze and giggled with her. Some very necessary face-washing came next and then, still giggling once in a while, they sprawled on the bed and talked of the entire evening.
The little kitten had a legitimate gripe, though. "Hey, I never did finish that dessert. And it was good, too. I'd sure love some now-but with a spoon-no more kittycat. You think it would be okay if I go down and raid the refrigerator again? There was a great big potful in there."
"Sure. You know the way? There's always a night-light, you shouldn't have any trouble. Tell you what, bring up a big bowl and two spoons and we'll have a party, huh?"
Meg grinned and made another kitten noise and glided out the door. She was back again in about two minutes, not nearly enough time for such a trip, empty-handed and no longer grinning. "Blythe? Want to see something? Come on. On tiptoe."
They stopped halfway down the stairs and crouched close to the metal filigree banister. It took a moment to get the vision straightened out, and then Blythe felt a twinge of nausea. Huffing and puffing like a whale, Ondine was sagging back in a soft chair with her skirt up and her fat thighs twitching. With the familiar dark head between them and the now-familiar sexy maid's uniform looking pretty bedraggled on that kneeling figure. The bowed head was bobbing and the bare thighs were bouncing and both their mouths were busy. One mouth sucking and the other mouth demanding more and better sucking...
"Tongue, you slut, I can hardly feel that tongue of yours. I'll bet that young kid can suck better than you do. Did you see those lips of hers? I got hot just looking at them. Come on, you stupid bitch, suck my cunt and make me come or I'll cool off and take you to bed and keep you up all night. Only you'll be sucking my ass then, you shameless slut, you'll be spending the night with your dirty tongue right up my asshole! So get busy. Suck!"
It was exciting and sickening at the same time. Blythe didn't mind Ondine at all. But it was pretty hard to reconcile that other figure with the governess she had once known. The woman with the heavy hand and heavier hairbrush. Raquel! On her knees?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Despite her mounting excitement over the bizarre notion, there was some doubt in Ondine's mind. Sex with little Meg? Oh, it seemed so monstrous! And yet she was protesting pretty weakly, considering the enormity of the thing. Worse yet, her protests were being cut down one by one...
"Oh, I'm tired of arguing with you." Blythe sounded confident, only mildly peevish. "Sure, the kid takes orders from me, but it's nothing she wouldn't wind up doing anyway. Don't worry, Meg knows the score. She's a real smart one, as a matter of fact-it takes brains to hold on to that scholarship of hers."
"Brains. Lips. What else?"
"Never mind anything else. You can forget brains too, if you're making a list, that's how important her lips are. Those hot lips will send you right into orbit."
"I-I'd still rather be with you tonight, darling."
"No, that's out. I'm going to do some heavy reading. I've got two book reports due, and this may be my last chance to catch up. Everything gets so hectic toward the end of the semester."
"Well... uh, later then?"
"You mean later tonight? Oh shit, I'll be exhausted. Tell you what, we can have tomorrow afternoon together. I'll even take the last possible bus, how's that?' I promise. But if you want a little fun tonight... "
"Oh. Do I have to decide right this minute?"
"No hurry. Ondine, you can wait till summer if you want to, I've already invited the kid. Maybe you'd just rather go to bed with Raquel, huh?"
"I should say not! Not until I've figured out what to do about her. I'm glad you saw us last night, dear. It's embarrassing, I'll admit, but at least we got everything out into the open. I still can't get over what you told me, either. The two of you. Since childhood, imagine! She ought to be fired, I suppose."
"No. Nothing that drastic. Besides, I've got a bone to pick with her myself. I won't feel right until I've crushed that two-faced head of hers between my legs."
"Darling? I don't understand. I thought you said Raquel was sucking you-"
"Hah! That was just in the beginning. Years ago. When she was trying to get me interested in the lezzie bit. She only did it a few times. After she taught me how to suck her cunt, she stopped doing it to me. The bitch used to wrap her skinny legs around my head and shake and shiver and have herself a grand time. Which is exactly what I'm going to do to hers."
"When she did it, weren't you angry?"
"Not really. I was just a kid and she was my governess-it made me feel grown up. But I'd sure like to get back at her for acting so goddamn sneaky about it, breaking me in like that. Only it won't be easy. I'm still scared of her, in a way. It's like she's still my governess, you know?"
"Poor darling. But don't let that bother you. She's just an employee to me. I'll put her in her place, as far as you're concerned. Your old governess will give you no trouble from now on, believe me. But I'm still thinking about firing her."
"I wish you wouldn't. After all, she did bring us closer together-that's something in her favor. Hmm. I wonder what her purpose was. Any idea?"
"I've asked myself the same question. Could be she just wanted a lot of sexy young kids around. She was always trying to get me interested in your sorority friends; wouldn't I like to have a houseful of little dolls? It got so we even called this place by that name. Dollhouse. She was always talking about how much room we have, all those empty rooms going to waste. I remember she even suggested taking in paying guests during the summer. Although I don't see -"
"Paying guests? You mean like boarders?"
"Oh, we never discussed it. She only mentioned the idea when I was trying to stretch our money to pay the bills. I wasn't at all interested, naturally. But that couldn't be a clue anyway, dear, it just doesn't fit in with the dollhouse idea."
"Dollhouse. That's kind of cute, you know? Great big lesbian dollhouse. Hey, wait, I just thought of something. Raquel used to go to New York when she had a few days off, she still keeps in touch with friends there. Some of them are rich, too, I remember her saying. All woman. Lesbians, right? Oh shit, I wonder if that's what she was after. You see the connection, Ondine?"
"I-I think so. Rich women and your friends from school. But those girls aren't... -.well... "
"Whores? Of course riot. But they'd do it for fun, especially if I told them to. Raquel was always after me to become a big wheel in the sorority and boss the kids around. Yeah. I'll bet that's the answer we're looking for. Hmm. Not a bad idea. Dollhouse for rich lesbians. I'll bet those uppity New York society dames would really shell out for a deal like that."
"Blythe! You're not serious."
"Why not? Think of the money. I doubt if we could get things organized in time for this summer- no, damnit, that's impossible-but with all of next year to recruit material, next summer, what a set-up we could have! Makes my cunt drool just thinking about it. I just hope we're guessing right about Raquel and her-"
"Oh, hush! Whores for lesbians. Sounds so depraved... "
"So what's a little depravity among friends?"
The words hung in the air, and Ondine couldn't look into the laughing-blue eyes, laughing and taunting in the same gaze, a kind of all-knowing mockery. And still the phrase echoed in her ears, a rhetorical question-already answered a thousand times over in this house of lesbianism and incest and a lewd little kitten lapping out of a dish on the floor. Depravity? She peered into the mirror and smoothed her hair down nervously, afraid to face this child-purveyor of sin and sophistication. In the glass, her own flame-cheeked image came as a shock. Her eyelids snapped shut, then flickered, and through the haze of lowered lashes she saw herself as if for the first time, a sultry stranger, desirable and desirous. When she spoke, the thickness of the tongue in her mouth was an impediment bypassed only by the faintest of breathy whispers.
"Please. Let's not talk about it anymore. I think I've blushed quite enough for one night."
"I'll bet your cunt is as drooly as mine."
It might have been true, but tampering with the evidence was scarcely proof. Even before the hand touched her, Ondine's insides began to churn and seethe in anticipation. She trembled as the fingers marched up her thigh, up to the edge of her panties, up underneath the flimsy fabric. The sensual surge in her flesh became unbearable as the fingertips dipped with innocent guile; vaguely, she saw those same scarlet-tipped troublemakers against the background of another thigh, younger and slimmer and infinitely more attuned to this type of torment. And once again she managed to utter a string of vowels and consonants around the stricture of her turgid tongue. Truly a tough assignment-no simple demurral this time!-a speech equaled in difficulty only by her need to make it.
"You-you never did tell me where Meg is."
"You never asked. She's put on the veranda. Waiting. I told her you might come. Go ahead now and don't be shy; give the kid a kiss just to let her know everything is okay. Have fun, Mother dear. And I'll see you tomorrow, huh?"
The hand left her belly quaking but was nice enough to spur her on with a pat and pinch of her bottom. And with a dozen tiny devils pricking her with pronged pitchforks, Ondine careened through the hall and, down the staircase. The momentum helped, propelling her body as her mind began to drag. Despite the miracle of the brave speech, she was stricken with guilt and despair and a certain sense of outrage. But oh, those prodding pitchforks...
It was dark out on the veranda. She strained her eyes in a sweep of the black void, conscious only of the sound of her own heavy breathing, all exertion and excitement. Easy to understand, at least, not like the wavering line between disappointment and relief as a second reconnaissance turned up only a newspaper flapping in the warm breeze; Then-the breeze again?-she heard the telltale creak of the porch glider off in the corner.
"Meg? Is that you?"
A giggle cleared up the mystery. "Why don't you come over and see? Unless you were looking for someone else, of course."
"Oh, there you are. Blythe said you were out here waiting for me. Are you? Or perhaps I just misunderstood... "
"We're both here, aren't we? Leave it to Blythe. Makes everything sort of convenient, huh? She told me you were coming. And she told you I was waiting. Hey, you think maybe she's hinting at something?" Giggling again, "I wonder what."
Ondine moved through the darkness and found room on the glider, recalling her last-minute instructions with a grimace. The fire in her body was still smoldering enough to give her courage, though, and she leaned over and kissed the girl's lips. Those remarkable thick lips, making themselves recognizable beyond doubt even without visual advance notice, soft and spongy but really pretty much indescribable-just different, mostly. From inside them, the thrust of tongue was immediate; no, this was no innocent child succumbing to seduction, no outsider to the gay sisterhood, not even a very recent initiate. Experienced, surely, far more than a green-as-grass sod-widow whose own membership still seemed somewhat tentative. She was thankful for the moonless night now, less black as her eyes adapted, but still registering only shades of gray. A boon to the green widow who turned pink at the slightest provocation and ranged anywhere from rose to magenta under pressure; just a well-aimed burst of those childish giggles could cause mayhem!
Then, even as the kiss-seal was still dissolving, "You just came from Blythe, huh? You were with her?"
"Yes. Only minutes ago. Why?"
"Well ..."
"Oh!"
"Relax. It's only my hand."
"But-but what are you-"
"I'm getting acquainted with my hostess, just like Blythe told me to do. What's wrong with that? Don't you think the two of us ought to be good friends?"
"Friends. Friends! But you mustn't be so-" Ondine gasped as the fingers found entry. "Meg, this is awful. Don't you realize how I feel?"
"Mmm. Feels all hot and wet to me. All hot and sexy, that's how you feel. Cunt and all. Hot. What else?"
"Oh, you know I didn't mean-"
"Come on, kiss me again. Don't you like my lips? Let's be friends. Don't be bashful, Ondine. Please? Blythe told me you might be kind of skittish, but you needn't be. We both know what we want. Oooh, what a nice hot slippery cunt!"
"Meg!"
"Okay, no more. See what a good girl I am? No hands. You act almost like you're afraid of me."
"I-I just wish you wouldn't... "
"We're going to spend the summer together, right? So we're bound to get around to this sooner or later; you'll probably be like a loving mother to me after a while. Blythe just acted as our go-between, kind of, just doing her good deed for the day. So give me a big kiss and we'll forget all about her, huh? It'll be just you and me sitting in the dark. We'll have fun."
An end-vestige of resolution stiffened Ondine's backbone. This was too much to take, too pat, too neatly arranged. As if they were performing some play that Blythe had written. Going through with it would make her just as blindly maneuverable as this fag-girl who had no choice in the matter. And twice as guilty, then; could she have such a thing on her conscience?
"Ondine? No kiss?"
"No. I'm sorry, dear, it's just not-" She broke off with a start. "Good grief, what are you doing now?"
"Can't you figure that out?, I'm kissing you, that's what I'm doing. Oooh, you have nice legs, just a blur in the dark, but they sure feel nice. I like big soft legs... mmm... "
"Sit up now. Don't do-"
"Panties... " A muffled tone, "In the way... "
"No! Quit that!"
There was a faint pop and then a sound of fabric shredding, a noise like a sad sigh. "There. Not in the way now. That'll teach you not to wear any next time."
Resistance seemed futile. Ondine's will ebbed and she could only echo the sigh of her torn panties and go ahead and find out what those supposedly special lips had to offer. Except that she couldn't view the situation quite that calmly a moment later, unable to make an accurate judgment on anything so far-reaching, so utterly vast in scope. Wiser to go along with the panties again and just crumple and let nature take its course...
That, for some unaccountable reason, must have been a tactical error. A signal for a brand-new beginning, almost. The lips were gone and now fingers explored her thighs deftly, carefully, as if they sought some buried jewel too precious to forego and too small for anything but the most methodical search. Her nerve-ends tingled in sensitive response to every fleeting touch, tiny impulses racing up her spine to gather at the base of her skull. Setting up a throbbing in her head, insistent and yet somehow not unpleasant. Certainly no substitute for those lips, though.
"Meg?"
"Umm... love your legs... "
The hands continued, still in no hurry to complete the search, still grazing skin unaccustomed to such meticulous attention, Nice, sure enough, but not worth all that earlier heartache. What ever happened to Superlips? So the kid liked big soft legs. Fat legs, the little freak! Fat enough to crush and smother any freaky little kitten who didn't know cunt from coconut cream. And for this I gave up a pair of my prettiest panties?
Time to fight fire with fire. "Hey! Meg? Listen, I came out here to get my cunt sucked. How about it?"
"Love your legs... "
"Okay. So love my cunt!"
That got results. The hands gained strength in a sudden surge of passion, depositing the well-loved legs out of the way and opening her up for a return of that wet mouth. Ondine panted. Where the hell was it? Come on, fag-girl, here's your cunt-cream. Was the kid mixed up or something? That face down there wasn't near enough, she wanted it right in close, right inside the hollow between her legs. Her thighs were shaking because of that empty place and if it didn't get filled pretty soon...
"Come on, you little cuntlapper!"
Oh shit, not just tickled-filled. Ondine tried to hoist her legs up and clamp them together and at least get a piece of that bent but far-away head between them. That was one disadvantage to having fat thighs, though, a lesser known handicap but no less miserable in these moments of truth. Too much weight and not enough leverage, and the stubborn little hands had no trouble rejecting her frantic invitation to come in for a bit of skull-crushing. The head remained painfully elusive. And the tickling went on.
She knew where it came from, of course, and she couldn't help knowing where it struck-the kid was flicking her clitoris with the tip of her tongue. Just the tip, no more, only the tip of each making contact, the tonguetip and the tip of that oversensitized spot. Flicking with impossible precision. Polishing the jewel to perfection, no doubt, but only that one tiny facet-and completely ignoring its all-important setting,, oh shit, you little teasing bitch, get your head down in there and fuck me with your face!
The gift of speech had been revoked by then, though, and she could taste the words but couldn't spit them out. Her hair was a mess even in the dark, and she must have been whipping it around like that for quite some time, jerking her neck and tossing that huge hank of hair from side to side. A release mechanism, probably, a way of channeling off all that tension down there.
She gave up trying after that and just thought about nice things like strangling the little cuntlap-per with her mouth still full of cream. Other things, too, but that one kind of stood out and became a project with her. Unfulfilled, alas, since it happened to slip her mind when the moment came. It was right in there, too, that no longer elusive head, one final plunge and face-fuck, but she could only flood that mouth with the hot flow of her ecstasy and forget everything else, everything-although she did wonder from time to time if the jewel hadn't been dug up or perhaps bitten off to tap such an unprecedented gush...
* * *
"Oh shit, Meg, how can I concentrate when you're fooling around like that?"
"Who's fooling? And what's so important that it requires concentration on a weekend? You even worked on book reports last night, of all things. Are you worried about passing that course?"
"Of course not. It's nothing like that. Strictly a personal type thing. And not anything to worry about, either."
"Personal. Oh. Well!"
"Now your feelings are hurt, uh?" Blythe frowned, still in a pensive mood and anxious to avoid delving into the grab-bag of thoughts that hadn't been sorted out yet. "Listen. Last night I had a long talk with Ondine before sending her out to you. We each contributed some ideas and information and kind of put everything together and came up with some weird conclusions. Past history in the Venable clan, mainly-with Raquel right in the middle of it. So now I'm just digesting all that stuff. I promised to spend some time with Ondine before we grab the bus, and she's bound to be curious about my reaction after sleeping on it. Don't worry, I'll fill you in when we get back to school. When there's time. Even on the bus, maybe, if we don't get sleepy. Okay?"
"Okay." Giggling a little, Meg slid to the end of the bed and rested her cheek upon one bare foot as though she had just noticed it lying there. "So concentrate."
"With my feet about to be attacked?"
"Not attacked, just loved. Maybe this will help you... " She turned her head to nibble at the toes, swishing her tongue between them rather noisily.
"There you go again! What's gotten into you? You feel cocky just because you made out good with Ondine last night?"
"Nope. Just cocky. No special reason. Or maybe there is a reason and I'm keeping it a secret from my mistress. Oooh, I wonder what would happen? Especially here. With real privacy and these thick walls and all... "
Once again Blythe frowned; it was all piling up too fast. One more problem to figure out, and all because of this weekend. For ages now she had been threatening Meg with a spanking, getting her conditioned to the idea. And conditioning herself, too, just as much in need of it on this side of the fence. All for a purpose, a "whipping boy"-pardon the expression!-to fill in for her when she finally outgrew Raquel. With a little training, Meg would have kept Raquel happy and probably enjoyed it herself. Good fun all around. But now, suddenly, as of Friday night's late show-tenth step of the staircase, best seats in the house!-there was no longer any need to keep Raquel happy. Kneeling and sucking Ondine's cunt like that, the two-faced old tramp, playing some kind of crazy dual role, oh shit, slavery for her!
But what about poor little Meg? What kind of mistress would build up to a big letdown like that? The kid was just dying to be walloped, out of curiosity if nothing else. Another tunnel, another novelty. Hmm. Last chance in this room with thick wails, Maybe sorting out the confidential "Raquel file ' could wait...
"Kid, the time has come."
"Huh?"
"Even if you did ask for it deliberately, you're going to get your ass whomped. And don't expect me to show any mercy."
"Oh. No mercy. I don't deserve any. I've been bad. Won't you punish me, darling mistress? You know how. Please help me to be a good slave again?"
"You sound anxious. So you really want to feel my hand whacking your ass, huh?"
"Oooh... yes, mistress... spank me... "
It had a strictly phony ring, but the kid was sure trying, and Blythe saw no reason to delay the action in hope of a more realistic mood. Oh shit, they couldn't all be perfect-some of the novelties just didn't fit the cast of characters. At least they would be giving it the old college try. Maplemoor? Shit, no, not Maplemoor and not the Deltas either. Miss Raquel's Academy for Delinquent Young Venable Heiresses, -discipline a specialty! (Also a little cunt-lapping on the side. See catalogue course: Big Black Bush!) Oh well, what could a couple of youngsters lose by trying?
"Yeah, I'll spank you. You're hot, huh? Just a hot slave bitch, that's all you are. Come on, get your ass up here. I'm glad to see it's naked. Standard condition for a slave's ass. Wrong color, though. Needs a little touchup. Pink, maybe. Up!"
Meg scrambled to comply, breathing thickly as she laid her body across Blythe's thighs. "Oh, you're so wonderful, darling. I love you. Spank me, hurt me -and then tell me what a good slave I am."
"Yeah. And then you'll want to suck my cunt again, right? I know you... " Blythe swung her arm fiercely.
The little fag-girl winced. Her plump buttocks quivered. And almost instinctively Blythe smacked again. Her throat tightened from the emotional impact; an abrupt jolt stemming from the sharp and violent contact of her palm on submissive flesh. Wild, absolutely wild! A real thrill, unexpected-not sexy though, no, it went beyond sex, a desire to hurt, to dominate-and yet there was a hot churning in the pit of her belly, oh shit, a wet cunt already?- hot and wet and just as sexy...
She went on pounding the bare flesh and looked forward to the wincing and quivering as things of pleasure. They were both getting sweaty now, skin rubbing upon skin, all moist and slippery and smelling of perfumed lust. The kid's ass was pink and turning pinker. Was there any limit to this weird kick?
There had to be a limit, of course. The instant she thought of limit, that was it. Enough and well-done for a maiden effort! Anyway, a little more and she would be too hot to quit at anything short of a climax. And she did want to keep that date with On-dine in good shape sexually. Mother-dear deserved a mouthful. Limit time, then. Two more wallops to round it off. A shove. There, all over! Except the swaying and sweating and panting for breath. And the vision of another tunnel somewhere beyond the beyond. She wondered if Meg saw it too. So many twists and turns...
The kid was on the floor, kneeling now. "Mistress? Oh, I'm so hot! Am I a good slave?'
"You're the best, kitten."
"Oh. Darling. Let me kiss you. Suck you. I can't come unless I'm loving you. Help me, please?" She made kissing noises with her .thick lips and then poked her tongue out, cajoling lewdly. "Let me suck your beautiful cunt. Don't leave me like this."
"No. I've got that other visit to make. But I won't leave you with a hangup." Blythe dangled one bare foot close. "Kiss it. Kiss my foot. Make love to it and maybe I'll let you have more."
The thick lips feasted madly and Blythe nodded -in approval. She felt fine now, just the right temperature to go and pay that duty call. But this kid had been an absolute doll over the weekend, and there was nothing like an orgasm to keep a slave happy. Or a fag-girl. Or a friend. Or anybody?
"Meg.
"Mmm?"
"Use my foot. Put it into your cunt. Fuck yourself on my toes. Now. Go. Do it!"
"Mistress... yes... oh!"
Blythe pushed and probed, wriggled her toes and bestowing her blessing upon the eager kid. The wet cuntflesh slithered deliciously around her foot. She wished she could see that beaten ass, but the viewpoint was wrong. Time for an inspection on the way out. Pink was such a pretty color. Hmm. How about Ondine? She was always that color. What would a swat do to her? Purple?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"You missed me, eh?"
"Oh yes, Miz Ondine. It's just awful when I don't have your beautiful cunt to love."
"I understand, dear. I know how you must feel. But you have it now, don't you? Here. You want to suck me?"
"Yes... oh yes, I want to...
"Good. But there's no hurry. Tongue me all over first, Raquel Ah, how nice. Sometimes I forget how soft your tongue is."
"All over... like this, Miz Ondine? Your beautiful breasts. Oh, I love the way your nipples get-"
"Chew them, my sweet slave, suck my tits and enjoy yourself. Would you like my ass too? You may have it. Mmm. I like that, yes, lick under my arms. Oooh, that tickles!"
"Mmm, I do love you, ma'am. I'm going to kiss every inch of you tonight. Your breasts and your shoulders and your belly and legs and feet-and your beautiful ass-and oh, your cunt, your hot cunt, your wonderful cunt, I'm going to kiss and lap and suck and suck and suck... "
"Do it, Raquel. No more talk, just do it."
Ondine shut her eyes and let the eager slave wallow in the luxury of her body. The devoted wooing felt fine. Not as exciting as her unpredictable sessions with Blythe, of course, but all this sweet syrupy peace was delightful. Especially after the skirmish that had almost developed into open warfare.
Anyway, victory had been assured from the very beginning, the minute Raquel turned green around the gills at the initial confrontation. What else could she do but submit? The idea of seeking another job after all these years frightened her. For that matter, she even sounded penitent now and seemed to be accepting her slavery as a just and fitting punishment. She had corrupted both Venable women-a good job, too!-and was now going to pay. With the possible chance of sharing in the wealth when it did come, a bit of bait that kept the old fraud on the hook. A nice subtle touch, Ondine figured.
Raquel was still the maidservant, officially, but that pretty much meant slave now. Slave to Blythe also, naturally, and scarcely more than that to any of her guests. The "dollhouse" slave, actually, and she really did have rich lesbian friends who would pay big money for a little vacation time among a bevy of charming and available little college girls. But that was in the future, if at all, and too dubious to worry about now. At the moment, the atmosphere of peace was just too precious.-They had avoided each other most of the time, Ondine laying down the law and Raquel sulking until she finally had to capitulate. So this was a reunion, really, with nary a harsh word between them...
"Oooh!"
"Miz Ondine?'
"No, don't stop. Give me your tongue again. Wait, dear, let me lift up so that... uh-huh... "
"Your ass is so beautiful."
"Umm, yes, get your face wedged in. Oh! Raquel darling, I just love your hot tongue!"
"Mmm... "
Wriggling her buttocks, Ondine enjoyed the sensation to the utmost. But even now, even with that tongue plunging into her flesh, she couldn't forget her true love. She missed Blythe more every day. Hmm, too bad she hadn't asked the sweet darling for a pair of her panties so that she could hold them to her face and kiss the soft fabric and sniff the familiar excitement of her daughter's perfume...
"Umm. Ma'am?"
"Something the matter, Raquel? Why did you stop?"
"I... I just thought of something... "
"Well? Don't keep me in suspense."
"Uh, I didn't just think of it, Miz Ondine, I've been thinking about it all the time I was sucking you. I know you're trying to be sweet to me, but it's -well, it's okay if you call me names. You know. I kind of like it. Of course, I wouldn't presume to tell you-"
"Hush, dear. That was a very nice thing to say. Arid you said it sweetly. But I did tell you to keep loving me down there awhile ago and you shouldn't have stopped. So my darling slave, just stick that sluttish tongue of yours back up my asshole and get to work. If there's anything I can't stand, it's a lazy bitch who's talking when she's got a cunt or an ass to attend to. Now get that worthless mouth of yours working before I stick your shitty head down the toilet and flush it! Hmm. That might not be such a bad idea... "
* * *
Alida was having her troubles. More than her usual share. Although lately she had begun to wonder if she wasn't just trouble-prone to begin with... After that ridiculous mess with Charlie Ponsonby, she had pretty much expected to make an apology to Blythe and perhaps a perfunctory one to young Meg, and then be accepted back into the fold. Only it wasn't working out like that. Most of the time Blythe wouldn't even listen to her. And when she did pay some attention, her answer was always a "we'll see" kind of shrug; so infuriating!
Would it happen again now? Alida was almost afraid to find out. She felt so alien in her own room lately; even her clothing made a difference now. Blythe was naked. Meg was in the bathroom and would be coming out naked. And guess who was completely dressed, just not good enough to be a member of the party...
"Hey, you really do look down in the dumps."
A ray of sunshine on a dark day; Blythe had actually spoken to her! Better yet she was getting out of bed and coming over with a friendly, look on her face. And that body, that nude body with no hair in front and a pair of jutting buttocks in back-and nice tits, too, but they were kind of high up, and Alida thought of herself in a humble crouch more and more often these days as far as Blythe was concerned.
In a crouch? Why not now? Why go through the agony of wasted apologies when actions speak louder than words; why not just do it? And how easy, too! She was lucky to have that kind of body, the supple and willowy kind that could bend gracefully. Without an awkward motion she was on the floor already. "Well! Look at you." There was faint derision in that calm tone and carriage, an attitude of unshakable composure.
"Oh... please... " Alida heard herself beg and didn't know what she was begging for. Abjectly, she sought Blythe's bare foot with her lips, still mumbling under her breath. "Please... "
It was a beautiful foot. Dainty and delicate and just plain beautiful, and she opened her mouth wide to cram the tiny toes into it. And then she wriggled her tongue. Because she knew it would please her darling roommate and they would be friends again.
"Hmm. You're catching on, Alida. I'm glad. Yes,! do appreciate having my feet licked."
"Hmm... "
"You look so beautiful on the floor. But it took you so long to get there! Didn't you know that was where you belonged? Well, at least you understand now, and that's a help. But do try to learn more quickly after this, won't you? Like licking my feet. And the other things you'll be learning-the services I'll be expecting you to perform for me, in bed and out. You're going to attend me from now on, every possible minute of the day or night. Naturally I won't interfere with your classes... "
Still mouthing feverishly, Alida tried to nod her head and show her agreement. Total agreement. Even if attending Blythe did interfere with classes, so what? She was revising her priorities these days. And meanwhile that voice was still going on up there, telling her of certain services that would be her province now. Telling her that she would be the lowliest of lowly slaves...
Then, abruptly, the foot was taken away and the voice faded; Alida looked up, conscious of a great loss. Blythe was sprawled on her bed now, one leg dangling. Meg had come out of the bathroom and was already running her lips over a creamy thigh, making little murmuring noises. Both of them seemed so happy!
Still on the floor, Alida stripped her garments off hurriedly, sure that she would be invited to participate. But the invitation was slow in coming, or perhaps it wouldn't come at all. Then she saw the dangling foot arch and point and decided that it was meant for her. Hardly an invitation, though, more like a summons. She crawled over to it and opened her mouth.
The noises above her were exciting. The long-unquenched fire in her body was a veritable holocaust; it would consume her if nothing happened. Perhaps if she took the smooth foot and-oh damn, it was gone again...
"What the hell are you doing down there?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"Well, you've already done it. Sit up, Meg. Let's take a little intermission break, okay?"
"Sure."
"Kitten, is that a bruise? Did I pinch you?"
"It doesn't hurt. You can pinch me any time you want to. I can take it."
Blythe chuckled. "You hear that, Alida? Does the same go for you? I seem to be pinching a lot lately. I must be some kind of pervert, huh?"
"It-it's all right." Alida almost choked on the words, but pride was a luxury she could no longer afford. "Any time you want to. I belong to you now."
"Do you? Umm, well, I don't really know if there's room for you. Meg takes care of most of my needs. Tell you what, honey, let's leave it to the kid here. You ask Meg if she'll mind having you around. You've got to convince her, though, I mean convince her that it would be a good thing for both of you. Good for her as well as for yourself."
"Oh ..."
"Just tell her how you feel, Alida. Beg her a little, that might help. She likes it. Beg her enough and she might even spread her legs for you-oh shit, she likes that even more! Isn't that the truth, kitten?"
"Sure. Doesn't everybody? Listen, Alida, I'm not the type of kid who holds a grudge. You're okay with me. You don't have to beg. Just come on up here and suck my cunt, so we'll both know everything is roses again." Meg giggled. "Yeah. Fast action, huh?"
After pride nothing is left, and Alida even felt a little gratitude for not being forced to beg. After all, she had sucked cunt before and had already made up her mind beforehand about this one. The kid had sucked hers. Wasn't it a debt, practically? If equality was the issue.
"Hey, are you sucking or just sniffing?"
"What's the matter, kitten?" There was a hint of rancor in Blythe's voice. "Not doing a very good job? Well, give her another chance, she's still learning. Hey, if you've got enough energy to move, you ought to try sitting on her face."
"Huh?"
"Sit on her face and rock back and forth. It's such a pretty face, too. You can smear your cunt and your ass right down on top of it-believe me, it's a thrill."
Alida was too dazed by the rapid turn of events; she just allowed herself to be put into position and then saw Meg's plump bottom coming down on top of her. She got a mouthful of cunt again, finding it quite easy to lick and chew from this angle, but then the rocking motion began and all she could do was extend her tongue and hope to hit the salient points.
"Oooh, this is wild!"
"I told you so, Meg. Don't let her slow down with that tongue of hers, though. Make sure you're getting the full benefit of its length. If you think she's getting lazy just reach down a tweak her cunt a little."
"Oh shit, she's doing fine, just fine."
"Good, huh? Glad to hear it. Can you feel her tongue when you glide your cunt over it?"
"Damn right I can. And on my asshole, too. Hey, she's got a great tongue, you know?"
Somehow they were talking about someone else, Alida was sure. She listened to every word and tried to piece some meaning out of the whole mess. She didn't mind, really, since it was quite comfortable to lie there on her back and have her face washed by that nice warm softness. It smelled nice, too. If this just went on all night she wouldn't mind at all.
But there was a change then, the face-washing stopped and she could feel the weight getting heavier. Oh? Of course! She knew what that was. This one seemed especially nice, too, the hole was tiny but slippery, taking all of her tongue and kind of crushing around it, gripping it, sucking back at it, oh yes, this asshole certainly knew how to treat a tongue...
"Blythe! It's fantastic. No rocking, just her tongue up my ass. Oh, this doll-baby is worth her weight in gold. And she's getting excited too, I swear she is. Look at her hips roll. And I'm not touching her, either. You think she's going to come?"
Alida had regained her sense of orientation now. She knew exactly what she was doing. More important, she knew exactly who was involved. That was the part she still couldn't quite believe. The other unbelievable thing was a foregone conclusion by now -an orgasm on the way, most assuredly. And if one was true, the other was practically a corollary, equally true. Which meant, undeniably, that she was lying here and falling in love with Meg Nolan's asshole!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Just the sight of the little darling made Ondine's heart turn over. She looked so cute in that blouse and shorts outfit. This was her last weekend at home before exam time, too, so they would have to make the most of it. Sniffing sweet Blythe's perfumed panties at night was no substitute for the real thing. Like last night, oh yes, what a joy to sniff the real thing!
The memory sent a flush to Ondine's face. She could hardly wait for bedtime, and it was still hours away. Then again, maybe she wouldn't have to. With a little persuasion, perhaps? She offered the suggestion, still aware of her blushing cheeks.
Blythe grinned. "Bed in the middle of the afternoon? Even wicked old Raquel would frown upon that."
"Who cares what she thinks? Anyway, she's not here. I sent her out shopping for groceries and such. She'll be at the supermarket for hours."
"You keep her pretty busy, huh? She sure did a great job on me a little while ago."
"Oh? Another shave?"
"Uh-huh. She's getting good at it, too. That's her steady job now, not Meg's anymore. It's kind of fun for me too, poor old Raquel kneeling there with her tongue hanging out. I still haven't let her suck me, you know. Now that she's dying to, it's more fun teasing her. But I'll give in soon, I guess-she's such a real slave now-ought to have a reward now and then. Come to think of it, that's how I got Meg broken in. Hey, I sure have to congratulate you on the way you handled Raquel, though."
"Thanks. By the way, how is Meg? I rather expected you might be bringing her along this weekend."
"No. The kid is hitting the books, with final exams just around the bend. She's got to make top grades to keep her scholarship. It's too bad, in a way -Meg could be a big wheel in the sorority if she didn't have to spend so much time studying. She's getting pretty popular, really blossoming out-I'll bet she could make president in her senior year. Especially since Alida's already been elected for next year. Oh shit, we'll be running the place. Think of the recruiting we'll be able to do!"
"Recruiting?"
"Sure. For the dollhouse."
"Oh. And you call Raquel wicked! Come on, darling, how about plunking that wicked little body of yours down on my bed? Let's have some wickedness this afternoon."
"You're pretty anxious, huh? Maybe later. Right now I'm going exploring, Ondine. That little room at the end of the hall, the one with all the trunks and things-some of my old toys, too-anyway, I've just been waiting for a chance to go puttering around in there, you know? Old clothes, too, and Alida is a bug about costumes and nostalgia stuff. I'm still trying to talk her into spending the summer with us. Or at least part of it."
"The storage room. Good grief, nobody's been in there for ages. That end of the hall must be a mess. But a little safari might be interesting. Lead the way, dear, I'll join you."
"Okay. Come on. Better look out, though, we're all alone in the house and I'm still a wicked little girl. I just might get my darling mother in that nasty room... "
"Oooh! I'm already frightened."
Off the main upstairs hallway, the smaller one looked dingy indeed, almost mysterious. Ondine hesitated and finally had to call for a delay. "I'd better change into something more practical first. This peignoir I'm wearing... "
"You're right. Don't change, though, just take it off. Me too. Let's explore naked, huh?"
That sounded logical to Ondine-and exciting, too. It always stirred her to see Blythe naked. They shed their garments quickly and left them behind in a small heap.
"Now I really do feel wicked, you little devil. Oh well, I did ask for some wickedness this afternoon, didn't I? The wickeder the better. Anything goes."
"Anything?" Blythe stopped short, giggling. Her gaze ran the length of the narrow stretch of carpet. "I'm going to take you up on that. Want to be my horsie? Oh, please don't say no. At last I've got a chance to ride my pretty pink horsie. Come on, carry me right to the door, huh?"
Ondine suffered a moment of shock. But how could she resist such a charming plea? And besides, wouldn't it be a thrill to feel that soft bare flesh on her bare skin? Those soft little bare thighs around her bare body-wouldn't it be exciting?
It was. Terribly exciting, scrambling along the floor on her hands and knees and bearing that deliciously oppressive burden-it felt like a giant kiss up there, that moist little cunt!-and listening to the goading encouragement: "Faster, horsie, trot, trot, trot, my pretty pink horsie... " And the horsie trotted, trot, trot, trot, until they reached the storage room door and collapsed in gales of hilarity. Ondine had never laughed so hard in her life. Oh, her little darling was such an inventive genius! Always thinking up something new.
After the laughter died down, Blythe shook her head. "Oh, look at your legs. You got your knees all dirty. Hands too, I'll bet. Go wash up while I start looking around in here, huh? And come right back and help."
In the nearest bathroom, Ondine did a hasty scrub with a soapy washcloth. By the time she finished and returned, Blythe already had three trunks open and was pawing through the contents of the biggest one.
"Find anything interesting, darling?"
"I'll say. Plenty. Interesting for you and me, even. Hold out your hands and I'll show you. No, hold them out with your wrists crossed. Uh-huh. Now watch and see what I've got for you."
It was a leather thong, rawhide. Around and around it went, trussing Ondine's wrists together. "Please, darling, not so tight. And those knots! Must you? I'll never be able to loosen them."
"You're not supposed to. Besides, it's just to keep you from taking this off." She held up a corset, pink and somewhat worn and grimy, the old-fashioned whalebone kind. "After I get you laced into it... "
"Oh, no! You're not going to-"
"Raise your aims. Let's see if it fits. Stand still f How do you expect me to fasten it?"
"Darling, it's so awful!"
"Stop complaining. It's the best we can do at the moment. I do wish we had a nicer one for you. Black satin, maybe, that would really look wicked. But this will have to do." Blythe started working on the laces. "Suck in your tummy."
"It hurts."
"You'll get used to it. And if you don't quit whining... " One hand dipped into the trunk and came up in a menacing gesture. "See what I've got to keep you quiet? A riding crop. Such a nice little whip." Then, giggling, "Too bad I didn't have this when you were my horsie."
"You-you won't hit me, will you?"
"Not unless I have to. So you'd better not whine." Blythe brandished the weapon. "Don't whine or I'll really make it rough on you." She poked the vulnerable ridge of flesh that billowed out beneath the lower edge of the constricting garment. "I can, you know. Just as rough as I care to. With your hands tied up like that, there isn't much you can do to stop me."
It was true. Ondine had no defense; the rawhide binding rendered her utterly helpless. There was nobody within shouting distance. She could scream her lungs out and gain nothing by it, nothing but a bruise from that nasty little whip. But she didn't want to scream now, the peril of her predicament was strangely thrilling somehow. Its creepy terror was bringing on a melting sensation in her body.
She sank to her knees. "Please... " Against the crushing pressure of the corset, she crouched low and kissed the bare feet of her cruel and capricious little idol.
"Please? Please what?"
"Please... I'm begging you... "
"I hear you. What are you begging for?"
"Please don't... " But no, she had been told not to whine.
"Well? Ondine?"
She peered up at the arrogantly posed figure. The blue eyes were bold, uncompromising; her imploring gaze met them only fleetingly and then dropped in submission. She saw her own hands, impotent hands, useless hands, fingers trembling in palsied desperation. A random thought struck, totally unexpected-she looked at her rings and decided she had worn them long enough. It was time to forget her husband; she belonged to his daughter now. And with that extraneous business out of the way, she realized what she was begging for.
"Please... just let me love you."
"Oh? You're hot? Sexy now, huh?"
"Sexy. Hot."
"Hot enough to suck my cunt?"
"Yes. Please? Let me suck your cunt."
"Hot enough to kiss my ass? No, don't answer that-I'll answer it for you. All my lovers consider it a privilege to kiss my ass. You want to do it. Isn't that true? Of course it is." Blythe whirled and jutted her buttocks. "Tell me you want to kiss my as?," Her voice became strangely gentle. "Do it nicely now. A little cooperation, Mother dear, that's all I want from you."
Ondine shivered rapturously. Cooperation? That didn't seem too much for the little darling to ask. And besides, that whip in her hand...
* * *
Only one lamp remained lit, quite dim. Alida buried her face in the musky fragrance and felt just grand. Vaguely she remembered that it had something to do with her love for Blythe, but that seemed like ages ago. Oh, she still loved her, of course, but it was nice to be able to love someone else too. Nice to have a cunt to suck on what otherwise would have been a lonely weekend.
The hairs tickled her nose sometimes, reminding her whose cunt it was. Not that smooth-shaven one, certainly, and the fuzzy bush jogged her memory after long silences when no further spoken orders were necessary. But when a command was rapped out every so often, she had no doubts about who was accepting her services. Meg could be so demanding at times!
"Alida... "
"Hmm?"
"It's getting chilly."
"Umm?"
"Don't you feel the breeze? Reach down and pull the blanket up over us. Don't stop sucking, though. I'm getting close. I'm going to come pretty soon."
Alida's hand foraged around for the blanket while her tongue went on lapping industriously. Oh yes, she knew better than to stop sucking; hadn't she heard the magic words? I'm going to come. What more inspiration did she need? It was her duty to give pleasure. A duty that in turn became her pleasure. The blanket covered her head now and the soft moist cunt was an intimate nest of darkness. She sucked slavishly, reveling in the slavish sensation...
"Do my ass a little more first. Like before. That long tongue of yours is terrific. I love it."
The compliment was like a spur. Alida ducked low into the crack between the plump cheeks that distended to receive her face as Meg's body bent double. Cunt and asshole-it was nice moving back and forth from one to the other. Awhile ago she had even stuffed her breasts one at a time into the hairy nest -fucking the wet little cunt with her tits, imagine! But this was always a thrill, poking her tongue deep into this slippery little asshole and feeling the ring tighten and squeeze and suck her in deeper. Just like the first time; wasn't it weird to fall in love that way?
"Ooh, you sexy bitch-you get me so hot!-do my cunt again and finish me off."
Back and forth, back and forth-and what fun! Alida obeyed frantically, burrowing into the damp folds of flesh, rubbing her face up and down, licking and lapping and sucking and losing herself completely in the pleasurable process of bestowing pleasure. She only hoped darling Meg wouldn't get tired. She wasn't at all tired herself. Wouldn't it be great to go on all night like this?
"Ah... now... "
"Mmm?"
"Suck, suck-oh, you beautiful sexy bitch, you're the best, the very best... " And then Meg's body lurched and her voice rose to a shriek and Alida congratulated herself and succumbed delightedly to the overwhelming burst of ecstasy in her own flesh. But even in the midst of her voluptuous convulsion, she continued giving service. That was always important. Oh yes, she knew exactly how to use her tongue in gentle sweeps and soothe the precious cunt in its aftermath of passion. It made her happy to serve. After all, wasn't she merely giving in to the dictates of her own nature? No one would have to persuade her anymore; she was ready to follow Blythe and Meg to their summer paradise. Ready to follow them to the ends of the earth if necessary. Just as ready as she was to begin all over again right this minute. Oh, it was so warm and cozy under the blanket, so thick with the scent of love-so nice to nestle between these soft legs, too, a nice place to fall asleep even if the fun was over; and wouldn't it be great to wake up in such a perfect position to start tomorrow's fun?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As always, the scrape of the razor gave Blythe a weird little thrill, a kind of shuddery sensation. Much more potent than when Meg used to do the job, too-but that was only to be expected, considering the instrument involved. Instrument. It sure looked like something out of a surgeon's kit. And it was just as effectively designed for its specific function, too. She was glad now that Raquel had finally convinced her of its advantages over the ordinary safety razor. In those deft and capable hands down there, that big shiny blade went everywhere and anywhere, slicker and quicker, with never a cat or scratch. Not even a nick.
Just the same, though, she couldn't see herself ever getting used to the darn thing. A real old-fashioned straight razor, the type that had to be sharpened on a leather strap. No, strop-that was the proper name for it, according to Raquel, and she was just the person to know. She had recognized the set immediately when it showed up in one of the boxes in the storage room. Mr. Hubert's razor, he should rest in peace...
Funny. The old razor was discovered around the same time that Ondine took her rings off. Blythe saw a certain significance in that, even if it was only a coincidence. In a way, she really did wear the pants in the family now, with or without her father's razor. Panties, rather. In a dollhouse, what else? Although panties weren't exactly the uniform of the day, now that both kids were getting to feel at home here. Running around naked...
Raquel was still busy down there, all huddled up and concentrating intently. Enjoying it, though, even if the position did look pretty uncomfortable. That was another thing she had been convincing about, doing the job right here on the toilet seat. Open, too, not just on top of the lid. She said it was simpler that way, easier to reach the hidden places and more convenient for the rinsing-off afterward. All of which was true, no doubt, but the old bitch sure seemed to get a kick out of kneeling in front of the toilet. Freaky, to say the least. Even though she had been demoted under pressure, Raquel really enjoyed being a slave now.
It was a kick for Blythe, too, seeing her awesome ex-governess like that. So anxious to please. And so hopeful of staying right there after the final rinse, a privilege she was granted only now and then. Uh-huh. She was getting to that stage and already casting sexy glances. Before the job was finished even. It would be a good job, of course, nice and smooth; she always did her best for the cunt that meant so much to her. The cunt that had caused her downfall, actual! things considered, although" she herself probably didn't realize it.
Blythe thought about that often. After that one impulsive "little girl" shave, she had followed Raquel's orders and made Meg do the next one. That was how she learned to be domineering then, turning her fag-girl into a slave-girl. Which led to her conquest of Ondine. Which led to...
Ah yes, that was what it led to. This! A perfect shave and now a nod and a smile of permission and at last the kiss. Gently at first, resting her chin on the toilet seat, kind of, just to keep from plunging right in...
Blythe was already in a pretty good mood, though, ready for more than just a gentle kiss. That inquisitive tonguetip dabbing inside the lips was getting her steamy, and she just jutted her middle up from the seat right into Raquel's face.
"Go ahead and suck it, if you must. That's what you've been waiting for, isn't it, you dirty old cunt-lapper?"
The feverish sucking began instantly and didn't let up as Blythe slowly parked her ass on the seat again. She patted the bent head fondly and pretty soon their little sighs and moans of pleasure mingled with the sounds of licking and lapping, and every noise echoed and re-echoed inside the tiled bathroom almost like some modern dissonant piece of music. Hmm. Background music for an X-rated film? The idea set Blythe agiggle. Right into her climax.!
* * *
The sight doubled Alida's desire. Climbing the stairs in front of her, Ondine had only a short robe on and her legs were clearly visible. Alida moved in a daze. Those tempting legs were practically under her nose, scissoring upward step by step, the rounded calves plump and powerful and yet alluringly feminine enough to entice and captivate without resorting to all that power. She was so close that Ondine must have noticed it; anyway, without turning around, she pulled the robe up, way up around her hips, and continued on like that. A big voluptuous woman. Alida saw rays of lamplight dance on the heavy haunches. Upon the big fleshy buttocks that swayed with every step, so breathtaking! She gasped and gulped and felt a dragging sensation in her loins.
She managed to make the trip without stumbling, though, but then the robe was tossed off and her knees weakened and let her crumple to the floor right there in the middle of Ondine's bedroom.
"Oh? Can't go any farther, Alida? Excited? Is that what excites you?" Ondine posed like a model and turned in a languorous pirouette. "You like my body? You want to make love to it?"
"Oh. Yes. You're beautiful."
"Then show me. Kiss me."
The towering figure had completed its revolution. Alida lifted herself from a heap on the floor into a kneeling position. It was a beautiful body and she did want to kiss it. But she was strangely aware of a certain drop in her excitement.
Then, in a flash of clarity, she knew why. The thought was new to her. Different. And yet it must have been lying dormant inside her for a long time. No, not even dormant. It just hadn't struck with such emphasis before.
"Ondine?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Please do it again.-What you just did. Tarn around slowly and let me look at you."
"Glad to oblige, honey."
With bated breath, still kneeling, Alida watched. Then, at the right moment, she reached out and held those plump thighs. The body stopped immediately and she leaned into her kiss. The flesh wriggled invitingly, wantonly, and her kiss became a gliding search. Not an aimless search, though, and therein lay the excitement. As often as she had done it, why hadn't she recognized its importance before? This was where a woman was most beautiful. This was where her kisses were most meaningful...
"Ah!"
"Mmm?"
"It's nothing. I'm just sensitive there. Yours is- oooh!-where did you ever get such a tongue!"
Alida was too occupied to speak. And too overwhelmed by this recent revelation. Oh, it was a lovely thrill! And it was going to be a lovely summer, too. All these beautiful asses to kiss and lick. All those cute little assholes to tongue. Wouldn't it be like a party all summer long?
* * *
It was a new-found power and Meg simply had to test it. Oh, it was wicked to issue a command like that-just "Follow me!"-without even any preliminary talk or smile or anything. And how quickly the maid had obeyed her!
Oh yes, the power was hers, an order from Meg Nolan carried a lot of weight in this house now. Meg Venable? Hmm. She wasn't sure about that; would legal adoption change her name, too? It wasn't settled yet, but they were talking about it a lot and the summer was only half over. It had something to do with their lawyer paying more money from the estate, but even without that both of them still wanted it done. Even if Ondine had to sell her diamond rings. And then the scholarship wouldn't mean a thing and all that studying wouldn't be so necessary. It was still to early to be sure, but Meg had a darn good idea that she was being groomed to become a big-shot in the sorority. Maybe even president some day. With all those young fag-girls to boss around; what a ball!
"Take your clothes off, Raquel."
The harshness in her tone must have upset the woman. For a long moment she remained motionless, only the rise and fall of her breath showing any agitation. Then, slowly, as if a trance had fallen over her, she obeyed.
Piece by small piece, the garments came off while Meg watched through half-lidded eyes, her brain afire with triumph. The woman's submissiveness was wonderful to see. Her body was far from beautiful, too skinny above the waist especially, but that didn't affect this new feeling at all. Still dressed, Meg tossed herself upon the bed and issued another order, punctuating it by rucking up the hem of her skirt. And the obedient face between her legs, she wrapped her cunt around that jabbing tongue and simply drifted off on the high-flying elation of her new status in life...
"That'll make you my sister now, huh?"
"Well. When it happens. If it happens."
Blythe laughed happily, glad to be the bearer of glad tidings. "It's already happening. Ondine finally heard from the lawyer and he thinks it's a very noble idea. The papers are already being drawn up. You know something, Meg? Just thinking about it got me all worked up I could sure use a little you-know-what."
"You want me to suck you? Great."
"No, damnit, we'd better not. You're supposed to see Ondine in her room in a few minutes."
"Oh. Let me. Come on. You've been so good to me, even when I didn't deserve it. Even when you were in a hurry. Remember when I fucked myself with your foot?"
"Hmm. I do remember. You sure came fast, too. I wonder if it could do the same thing... "
"Huh?"
"Let's try it, kitten."
"You-you want to put your toes in-"
"Oh shit, the other way around. What the hell, you're practically my sister now-let's experiment a little. I've never tried that before. Come on, give me your foot."
"Oh... "
"Hmm, let's see. How do I do this? Okay, kid, just lie on your back and I'll... " Blythe made a few adjustments, getting the toes between her cunt lips and then squatting slowly. "Hey, I like this. A different kind of thrill, you know?"
"Stay right there. Let me wriggle my toes and you'll get nice and wet. Oooh. yes, I feel it now, your cunt is so hot!"
"Hot! Damn right. Yeah... "
"Now do it. Move up and down. Oh, that's the way, fuck yourself on my foot. Fuck, fuck... "
"Fuck!" The word burst from Blythe's lips. "Come on, Meg, you do it too! Use your foot. Fuck me with it. Shove it right up into my hot cunt. Yeah. Fuck me!"
The climax smashed with tremendous force and Blythe writhed and jerked and twisted and at last collapsed. In her ecstatic daze, she felt the delightful foot slipping away from her. She grabbed and held it, tugging its thickness back into the void in her flesh; then-wrapping her legs around it-she lay in the trembling afterglow of her orgasm. The toes inside wriggled gently, sweetly, bringing her to a soft landing from the heights of passion.
Her eyes opened. She saw Meg's body with its furry thatch of hair. It looked so inviting. And didn't she owe something to her new sister for this marvelous sensation? Blythe slid away from the slippery foot with a touch of regret, but forgot it the instant she bent her head between the spread limbs. Oh, it was a thrill to burrow into this delicious cunt! So different, too, almost as if she had never been a cuntlapper before. The foot-fuck too, that was different. More novelties? Another tunnel with a tunnel of its own? Hmm. Maybe they really were going around in circles!