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From: stbush@iglou.com (S THOMAS BUSH)
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Subject: BOMBADIL: "Whitewash" Part 2 of 3
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Whitewash - 2 / 3 

Story #4
by Tom Bombadil  (c) Dec 1996

Disclaimer:  All the standard rules apply.  If you are offended 
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is 
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are 
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you 
might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this 
text from your computer.

This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions
described by me coming straight out of my imagination.  As a work 
of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities 
or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real 
events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my 
friends or relatives.

You've been warned.

I give permission for anyone to share or archive this story.

********************************************************************

Saturday night, John rented a couple more movies.  Maybe it was a 
coincidence, or maybe he noticed my fascination with a few of the 
scenes from the previous week, but one of the tapes was titled 
"Lesbian Tongue Lashers", or something equally stupid.  

Nevertheless, that night, there was another first.  Half way through 
the second movie, after watching woman after woman shriek through 
orally induced orgasm after orgasm, I was so hot, I dragged John 
down on top of me, right there on the couch!  It was the first time 
for us anywhere other than in bed.  If the women were faking it, I 
didn't care.  My imagination filled in for any lack in their acting 
abilities.

The movie was hot, John was hot, and I was sizzling.  Never before 
had I felt like I did that night.  While he pumped, licked, sucked, 
grabbed, and squeezed, I watched the television.

There wasa group scene going on, whith for woman ina ccircle,all 
hooked upm outh to croth, moth tocrotch, lickignand sucking and 
lickinganddalllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

The four women were in a circle, with each one buried deep in 
the crotch of the next.  The closeups were vivid, showing tongues 
licking on and in cracks, pushing deep into holes, and licking on 
top of clits over and over again.  The sounds they made were 
incredible - their moans and whimpers, and sometimes shrieks, as one 
or another went over the edge, almost drove me insane.  Finally, the 
climax of the scene, and the movie, arrived, and mine and John's as 
well.  All four women went off at the same time, writhing and 
groaning in their passions.  They set me off too, in a shrieking, 
gut-wrenching orgasm.  It was not quite as good as when Tim and Dick 
had me in Dick's office, but it was close.  It was also the most 
powerful orgasm I'd ever had with John, and he knew it.

It was also, according to him, the hottest, wildest, most 
ball-draining experience he'd ever had.  Later, he started grilling 
me about what different, why I was changing.  He wasn't too 
insistent, so I was able to put him off, but the seed had been 
planted in his mind.  Something that he hinted at, something that 
I didn't think had the slightest bit of truth to it, was the 
possibility that I was a closet, or repressed, lesbian - or that I 
might be bi-sexual.  I knew that was totally off the mark because 
I enjoyed John's cock too much.  It was the thought of those 
tongues working away inside my pussy that set me off, not their 
owners.  My sleep was troubled by disturbing, unremembered dreams.  

**********

The following week was pretty uneventful, if you can call 
masturbating naked in front of your boss, giving him blow jobs, and 
getting painfully fucked by him uneventful.  I guess, since he left 
me alone other than first thing in the morning, and made no lewd 
references about what was going on, I managed to shut away those 
events during the rest of the day and concentrate on work, burying 
myself in all the mundane details requiring my attention.  I still 
find it amazing how quickly I adapted to what was a very weird 
situation.

Whatever other effects his manipulations had, my appetite for John 
had certainly gone up.  He was the surprised, and delighted, target 
for a lot of newfound sexual energy.  I guess it's true.  The more 
you do it, the more you want it.

On Friday, two things happened.  Dick gave me another couple of 
hundred, and told me to buy a bunch of slinky evening and sleepwear 
that night.  He then told me I was going to spend Saturday night 
at his place.  There was no arguing with him, no discussion, no ifs, 
ands, or buts.  I was to be there.  He gave me his address and 
telephone number.  Since he was carrying that folder with him at the 
time, I didn't argue very much.  I was getting in too deep to be 
able to say no easily.  What helped ease my conscience a little was 
the fact that it was payday, and that huge commission check was now 
sitting in the bank.  Nevertheless, guilt rode me hard.

John was very understanding about my need to be away for work that 
weekend, even though we had originally vowed that Saturday nights 
were to be reserved for us, and our own fun.  Maybe it was because 
his own work hours were down again, and he knew we needed the money.  
I didn't think he suspected there was another man involved, but I 
couldn't be completely sure of that.  Friday night, and then again 
on Saturday morning, we fucked like bunnies.  He didn't understand 
the change, and, to tell you the truth, neither did I, but my 
passions, my appetite, and above all, my enjoyment, were increasing 
daily.

I still wouldn't let him do anything strange, and we stuck to the 
missionary position, but still, it was pretty wild.  I even let him 
finger me to orgasm once, when he was flagging a little.

**********

At five o'clock sharp I showed up at Dick's place.  It was huge, way 
out in the suburbs, and on a lot that looked big enough for a modest 
airport.  There was money in that house, and that property.  From 
what little I knew about the company we worked for, he certainly 
hadn't paid for that place with his salary and commissions.

A very pretty older lady answered the doorbell.  She looked to be 
in her late twenties or early thirties.  Later I found out that she 
was in fact only a few months shy of forty.  The brunette was a 
couple of inches shorter than me, but probably weighed a few pounds 
more.  All of the extra weight was poured into the right places.  
Where I was tight and trim, she was what my husband would call 
voluptuous.  With big breasts, round hips, full, jiggling bottom, 
yet still with a flat stomach and good waist, she looked 
magnificent.  Everything was showcased in the maid's uniform she was 
wearing, especially her breasts and shapely legs.  I knew if John 
saw her, he would probably be drooling.  I knew his taste in women.  
He'd pointed out enough of them both on the streets and in the porno 
flicks.  His favourite expression, one that definitely applied in 
her case, was 'built like a brick shithouse'.

Dick introduced her as Mrs. Darling.  Cindy Darling.  I almost 
choked when I heard that.  How anyone could go through life with a 
last name like that totally baffled me, even though I knew it was a 
common enough surname.

I had no idea what my boss had in mind for the night, but I had 
expected it to be rude, crude, embarrassing, demeaning, and 
otherwise thoroughly hateful.  He shocked me, at least with the 
early part of the evening.

After some pre-dinner drinks (I had ginger ale, he had scotch), 
Cindy called us to the table.  She served us Gaspatcho soup, 
followed by a wonderful crab and shrimp salad.  Dick said that the 
cook was a woman named Tanya, and that I'd meet her later.  If the 
preliminaries were anything to go by, dinner would be spectacular.  
She exceeded my expectations with a duck l'orange that was simply 
too marvellous to be believed.  The scalloped potatoes, glazed 
carrots, and steamed asparagus tips were all perfect.  Of course, 
the only reason I knew what those dishes were called was because 
Cindy told us what she was serving as she brought it out.

A half hour after dinner (by necessity - I was stuffed) dessert was 
served.  Baked Alaska, flambe style.  If dear old perverted Mr. 
Small was trying to impress me, he succeeded.  His house was huge, 
it was impressive, it was tastefully furnished, and it reeked of 
style and suave upper classness.  I found out later that everything, 
from the decorating to the landscaping, was orchestrated and 
arranged by other people.  All Dick did was get the right person to 
do the right job, and spend money.

Afterwards, we sat in the drawing room, making small talk, 
discussing little things about work and customers.  Nothing 
important, and nothing crude.  I had no idea what he was trying to 
do.  He did manage to pump two good-sized glasses of wine into me, 
and since I don't normally drink much, that got me feeling pretty 
mellow.

We were joined by Cindy and Tanya around eight or so, after they had 
finished all the cleanup.  

Tanya was very much different from Cindy, and actually looked a 
little like me, body wise.  She was younger, maybe nineteen or 
twenty, taller, and a little thicker overall with slightly smaller 
breasts, but her general look was quite similar to mine.  She was 
also quite fit and trim, with no excess fat, had long legs, and a 
cover girl face.  Her hair was long and black, hanging down almost 
to her bottom, and her eyes were a matching dark, dark brown.  Where 
my lips were bow shaped, sometimes pouting, sometimes smiling a 
little, hers were wide, thick, and expressive, and were at that 
moment trembling in between neutrality and a grimace.  Because of 
her otherwise narrow, darkly tanned features, her mouth looked even 
larger and fuller.  

It was after the two of them showed up that Dick showed his true 
colours.

"Stand up and move to the centre of the room."

With a small, nervous sigh, I did so.  My arms were trembling and 
my knees felt weak.  He had me turn around slowly, showing off the 
new dress I'd bought at his instruction.  It was a mini, in black 
satin, with spaghetti straps, a low cut front, and a full, loose 
skirt.  Standing still and straight, it barely reached to mid thigh.  
Every time I moved or leaned, more showed.  Again, if I bent too 
far, the tops of my charcoal stockings, and the red garters, would 
show.  He liked it, a lot.  The cut and style of the dress precluded 
wearing a bra, so he had been treated to some delightful jiggling 
all evening.

"Cindy, if you would do the honours?"

The brunette came over to me, running her fingertips around on my 
stomach and ass as she circled.  She traced the edge of my dress, 
from one shoulder, down deep into my cleavage, then up to the other 
shoulder.  Her touch continued over the other side and down my back, 
down to where the zipper was located.  

"Stand still, Jane."

Dick's order was hard to follow when I felt Cindy's lips on the side 
of my neck, and even harder when her tongue traced the outline of 
my ear from the top down to my earring.  She unzipped the dress 
and let it fall to my feet.  I was now half naked, topless in front 
of three people.  Cindy had me step out of my dress, which she hung 
on the back of a chair.  With a nod from Dick, she stepped up behind 
me, reached around, and started fondling my breasts.  It felt good, 
but I was far too nervous to enjoy her ministrations.  The fear of 
the unknown was strong, and not even having a suspicion about what 
would happen made that fear much more real and palpable.

It was harder to ignore her lips wandering up and down my neck and 
across my shoulders.  I didn't want to enjoy her touches at all, 
because I wasn't that sort of a girl, but still, my body liked the 
sensations.

Next, she removed my stockings.  Her hands travelled all over both 
legs during the procedure, stimulating me, trying to get me 
aroused.  There was a little bit of success, but not much.  I was 
able to ignore any real pleasure coming from her touch.  She then 
unsnapped and removed my garter belt, and finally pulled off my 
panties.  Her lips left a trail of kisses down both cheeks and the 
backs of my legs, chasing those sheer black nylon panties as they 
fell.

Finally she left me alone, and I opened my eyes.  They had closed 
when Cindy first started touching me.  What I saw made me gasp.  
Dick was sitting on the couch, and Tanya, still dressed in skirt 
and blouse, was sitting in his lap.  Judging by the movements they 
were making, and by the expressions on their faces, he was buried 
to the hilt in her pussy.  

"Kiss her," was his instructions to Cindy.  I complained, stating 
flat out that I wasn't going to.  I was now deathly afraid of what 
that man could do to me.  His confidence, the aura of power around 
him, there, in his house, surrounded by his slaves (that's what I'd 
decided those two women were) was incredible.  Ideas of flight ran 
through my mind, but were quickly dismissed as ridiculous.

He sighed, then spoke to me.

"Jane, let's get one thing straight, here and now.  Until this 
business between us is settled, you are my slut, and you will do 
anything I tell you, regardless of how you feel personally.  Is 
that understood?"

My vehement protests were ignored, and probably sounded a little 
funny to him, coming from a woman standing naked in the middle of 
the room, while he was busy fucking someone else.  When I told him 
that I had limits he couldn't push me across no matter what, he 
smiled.  It was ugly.

"Cindy, darling, would you please play the tape I gave you earlier.  
Jane needs some education."

The brunette lead me into another room where a big screen TV and 
entertainment system occupied centre stage.  She popped in a tape, 
hit the start button, and everything came to life.  It took me a 
few seconds to orient myself and to realize what was playing.  
I recognized myself.  I recognized Tim Wakefield.  There was no 
way I could tell who the third person was, even though I knew it 
was Dirty Dick (my new name for that bastard).  He'd somehow managed 
to video tape the scene in his office.  It was with horrified 
fascination that I watched myself practically swallow Tim's cock, 
while I was squirming and squealing with pleasure.  For many 
minutes I stood there, staring at the screen.  It was very apparent 
when Tim climaxed, and my throat moved with obvious swallowing 
motions.  When my climax hit on the screen, my entire body throbbed 
in sympathy with the remembered ecstasy.

Cindy took my hand and guided me back into the other room.  At some 
point during the show, she'd stripped naked without me noticing.  
The expression on my face told Dick everything he needed to know.

"Kiss her," he told the brunette again.

I didn't do anything to stop her.  All my resistance was gone.  If 
John saw that tape, he'd die.  If he didn't, he'd kill me for sure.  
I was completely roped in, and my boss knew it.  The sick bastard.

When the kiss came, it was tender, soft, and delicate, a light touch 
of lip on lip.  Her breath was warm and sweet, not at all like the 
swine busy rutting not more that ten feet from where I stood.  She 
was slightly shorter than me, so she stood on her toes to reach me 
properly, and kissed me once more.  Her tongue tasted my lips, 
teasingly sliding in a fraction of an inch before disappearing.  I 
made no move to help or hinder, letting her do as she would.

Again she kissed me, a little more firmly, pushing her tongue under 
my lips, exploring, testing the waters, as it were.  While her 
mouth held my attention, her hands began wandering, searching out 
all the tender and sensitive spots that could drive me wild.  She 
found many - her lips, her eyes, her naked breasts, sensing the 
involuntary little shudders, the tiny gasps, the slightest tensing 
of muscles, that betrayed her successes.

With a last lick at my lips, she stepped behind me, snaking her 
arms under mine to hold me in a light hug.  Moist kisses started 
trailing across my shoulders and neck, then down my sides and back.  
With an effort, I closed my eyes to the scene Dick and Tanya were 
making, then tuned their noises out of my consciousness.  Ignoring 
what Cindy was doing turned out to be far more difficult.  She 
hadn't missed a single erotic spot on the way down from my neck to 
my bottom.  Her hands, never idle, had kept up their slow, insidious 
attack, and her lips and tongue were now sensitizing broad swaths 
of my posterior.  I was far from impervious to her attentions.

I tried to think of other things.  I tried desperately to hold onto 
what my mother had drummed into me over and over again - that 
anything other than husband and wife coupling in the missionary 
position was dirty and horrid, evil, and a sin in God's eyes.  Her 
teachings were crumbling before an onslaught of pure, sensual 
feeling.  My will, my resistance, was fading.  It's all right, a 
tiny voice in the back of my head said.  You have no choice in the 
matter, so you might as well enjoy it.  A fresh wave of guilt swept 
over me, temporarily drawing me back from the brink, but two hands, 
expertly tracing lines of fire through my groin and along my upper 
thighs, soon had me ready to topple into the abyss once more.

With a delicate, sensuous touch, and the patience of a saint, she 
teased and caressed my body.  Her seduction was subtle, sweet, and 
almost impossible to resist.  Magical fingers, palms, lips, tongue, 
even hair, combined to pull me into another world, one where nothing 
but she and I existed.  

Almost imperceptively my breathing grew faster and shallower, my 
breasts swelled and nipples grew hard, my arms began to shake 
slightly, and my knees grew weak.  Slowly I was giving in to her 
manipulations, slowly she was winning.  The feeling of 
inevitability grew, and the near certainty of her success grew with 
it.  My mouth dried, my tongue darted out to lick my lips, and my 
cleft started getting moist.  My insides felt like they were 
melting.  

Along the front of my thighs her hands moved, then outwards and 
upwards, over my hips and along the ridges of my pelvis.  Then down, 
around, and back up over my bottom.  Her tongue traced the outline 
of my bottom cheeks, then she began a nuzzling, with her cheeks 
against mine.

When her hands nudged my knees apart, and then drew upwards along 
my inner thighs to begin tracing the outlines of my sex, I was 
lost.  I was hers to do with as she pleased.  Nothing was left of 
my objections, of my sanity.  She had won.

Cindy pulled me down to the floor, onto my back, to rest against the 
soft, thick carpeting.  Somewhere in my mind I was glad to be lying 
down, since I had been in danger of collapsing.  With a slight 
movement, and a hint of pressure on my knees, she shifted into the 
space between my thighs.  Rather than going straight to the heart of 
the matter, she once again delayed, moving her attentions upwards, 
pausing slightly at my breasts, finally arriving at my mouth.

She kissed me, and I kissed her back.  thats when it happened  
thats when hertongue finally reach edit's goal,when it tickled 
places unreachableby noormal humanb eingssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Her tongue, her incredible tongue, reached half way down my throat, 
into places never before explored.  The sheer sensuality of what she 
did sent me over into a small, explosive orgasm.  Her kiss, and her 
prehensile tongue, did it to me.  The visions of what she could do 
when she finally reached my middle almost set me off again.  I 
heard moaning, and slowly came to realize it was me.

I could feel her lips on mine.  I could feel her breasts, nipples 
as hard as my own, pressing into my chest, the heat of them burning 
holes right through me.  I could feel the moist warmth of her groin 
slowly grinding up and down along my hip.  I could feel her stomach, 
fluttering and moving with each breath, pressing into mine.  I 
could feel her heart beating, the cadence as fast and as excited 
as my own.  But her tongue, sliding around, over, under my own, 
exploring my mouth, inviting my own, tasting and teasing, into her, 
that is what changed my world.

After an eternity of learning, of touching, of my hands exploring 
her body, she swung around, then pulled me on top of her.  With 
precision and practiced skill, she'd manoeuvred me into the classic 
sixty-nine position, with her on the bottom.  I was now 
nose-and-mouth to groin with her sex (my eyes were still closed).  
Her first teasing licks, along my innermost thighs, sent shivers 
through my body.  Without hesitation, despite never before even 
touching another woman's genitals, I copied her actions.  I don't 
remember any taste or smell from then, just touch - and her skin was 
soft, smooth, warm, and silky, all at once.

For an age, she explored the outer areas of my labia, and I 
travelled around hers.  The anticipation, the expectation,the 
waiting, alltook their toll.  Andthen - and then,her tongue, thaat 
tong ue,slith ereditsway ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

That tongue, her tongue, entered me, parted my lips, sought my 
centre, invaded my being.  It discovered places, tasted things, 
swirled and twirled, and drove me almost insane.  I tried my 
best to copy her, but I was only gifted with a normal human reach.  
Besides which, my whimpers and twitches interfered with my 
concentration.  My vagina contracted down onto her invading muscle 
in waves, trying to draw it in deeper and deeper.  Then she began to 
lick something, way up inside, and that feeling drove all thought, 
all other sensation, out of my mind.  A high, keening noise, 
originating from somewhere deep inside my body, surrounded me.  She 
continued, and my insides melted, then exploded.  Waves of pure 
sensation overwhelmed me, tearing me from the normal world.  

I think I fainted.

When consciousness returned, I was still whimpering, and her tongue 
was doing a slow twirl around my clit.  She was letting me back into 
reality, but only on her terms.

I began a slow, gentle licking of her furrow, from it's start, down 
over her clit, and into her hole.  I repeated the move, over, and 
over, and over again.  She seemed to like it.

There was an intrusion, an anomaly, a disturbance in our 
self-contained little world.  Something cold, wet, and slippery 
splashed against my anus.  Her arms held my thighs tight, her knees 
held my head close.  Something else pressed me down.  A few seconds 
later, something huge, hot, and insistent pressed against my 
sphincter and started forcing its way inside.  It hurt!  With the 
pain, normal thought returned, and the sensual world Cindy had so 
carefully built dissolved into nothingness.  I was back in mundane 
reality.  It was then I realized that I was about to be anally raped 
by Dirty Dick.  That name now held a double meaning in my mind.  He 
pushed, I moaned, he pushed again, I whimpered, he pushed some more, 
burst inside, and I screamed with the pain.  Lubricated or not, his 
was the first thing inside me that was larger than a thermometer.  
He was huge, and I was certain that he had split me open and I was 
bleeding to death.

With time, penetration, and the application of more lubricant, the 
pain diminished, but didn't go away.  He thrust in and out for a 
while, building up both speed and depth of stroke, until he 
shuddered, roared, and let go, slamming into my bottom with a series 
of bruising jerks.  Things were suddenly much looser and wetter in 
my rectum than they had been, so I believed that he'd finished.  

When he pulled out, he tried to pull my head up by the hair.  The 
thought of what he seemed to want sickened me, right to the lowest 
level of my gut.  Instead of even acknowledging his attempt, I 
tightened my grip on Cindy's thighs, pushed deep into her cleft, 
and fastened my lips to her clit.  Sucking and licking on that was 
far, far preferable to any alternative Dirty Dick (shudder) was 
thinking of.  After a few more half-hearted tries, he gave up and 
left us alone for a while.  The filthy bastard.

I carried on with what I was doing, ignoring the pain in my butt.  
Eventually, my senses of taste and smell returned.  I discovered 
that her flavour and odour, while distinctive and sharp, were not 
at all unpleasant, not like I had imagined at all.  I believed that, 
like oysters, sucking her clit was something I could learn to enjoy 
for its own sake, never mind the obvious effect my attentions were 
having on the owner.  Her tongue was busy as well.  Licking on 
parts of me that I wouldn't have touched without gloves on at that 
point, she managed to assuage a great deal of the pain Dirty Dick 
had caused.  

With wiggling hips, panting breath, and insistent thrusts, she made 
her state of arousal known.  I didn't stop until she literally 
squeezed me away by pulling her legs together.  Her deep, irregular 
breathing, alternately warming and cooling my inner self, made my 
hips twitch in sympathy.  The pain in my ass toned down any fresh 
arousal, however, and I soon rolled over onto my back.

My eyes focused on the scene being played out on the couch.  Dick 
was there, now naked, leaning back with his hips shoved forward.  
Tanya was also naked, on all fours, giving him the blow job of a 
lifetime, if her energetic movements were anything to go by.  I 
could see that she was even better looking naked than she was with 
clothes on.  There were no tan lines to be seen, anywhere on her 
body.  Her dark brown areolae, capped with two hard, finger tip 
sized nipples, were completely surrounded by darkly tanned skin.  
Down lower, I could see no pubic hair whatsoever, and her mound and 
lips looked to be just as deeply tanned as the rest.

Dirty Dick noticed that I was back with the real world.  He pulled 
the raven-haired beauty off his member, stood, and walked over to 
where I was lying.  Crouching down out of my sight, he grabbed twin 
handfuls of my hair and tilted my head back.  His cock was large, 
hard, and in my face.  I had no resistance left.  All I could do 
was whimper in protest.  When he pushed, I opened my mouth and let 
him in.  He raped my throat.  It didn't hurt nearly as much as when 
he raped my ass, but there would be soreness in the morning.  With 
the different angle he was using, his glans reached deeper than it 
normally did, accounting for the pain.

A few dozen strokes later, his cock got bigger, harder, and longer, 
signaling his incipient orgasm.  When it came, I choked and 
swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed, then it was all over for 
him, for the evening.  At least, it was between him and I.  He 
looked carefully for any evidence of spilled or wasted semen, but 
found none.  A rather hateful expression washed across his face.  He 
got up, grabbed a somewhat fearful looking Tanya, and dragged her 
off to another part of the mansion.

A sigh brought my attention back to the other occupant of the room.  
Cindy stood up, stretched, wiggled her bottom, and started 
straightening up the room, collecting clothes as she did.  I was 
feeling a delicious lethargy, and was content to lay on the carpet 
and do nothing for a while.  It was thick, soft, and delightfully 
warm.  She minced off with one batch of apparel, swinging her 
backside to and fro.  When she returned, she set about her task 
again, picking up the remnants of her and my clothing.  Once again 
she disappeared for a few minutes before returning to finish her 
chore.

Eventually she looked at me - or rather, at the spot my feet 
occupied.

"Ma ... Mr. Small has a room set aside for you, for the night ... 
if you wish."

Her words said one thing, but her inflection, her tone, said 
something else.  I wasn't sure what that something was, though I 
had some wild suspicions.

"If I wish.  But ... ?"

Her stare, directed at my toes, intensified, as did her 
nervousness.

"If you wish.  Or, you could ... stay ... with me?"

Her voice faltered at the end, changing to a squeak.  I couldn't 
tell if she was more afraid of me saying yes, or saying no.  Her 
eyes flickered to mine for only the briefest instant, then returned 
to her inspection of the region around my toes.  There was something 
hiding behind those tightly veiled eyes, something intense, 
and I wasn't sure that I wanted to find out what it was.  

The conditioning of a lifetime surged within me, along with my 
mother's words and teachings, my inner voice, the comments made by 
other girls all through high school and college, thoughts of my 
wedding vows, and my commitment to John.  They all joined together 
in a great surge, warring against the strange atmosphere in that 
house, the new, powerful feelings racing through my soul, and the 
memories of how Cindy had made wonderful love with me .  The battle 
was brief, but intense, and there was no clear victor.

In a whispering voice, I spoke.

"I will stay with you."

**********

Morning brought with it strange feelings, dreamlike memories, and 
harsh inner thoughts.  The one thing missing, the one thing that I 
thought would be dominant over everything else, was any sense of 
guilt for sleeping with Cindy.

Admittedly, after going to bed, all we did was kiss, snuggle, and 
fall asleep in each other's arms, but that should have been enough 
to trigger feelings of remorse as deep and as wide as any I had 
ever known.  Yet nothing.

Her kiss, her gentle caress, were what woke me.  I brushed her 
cheek with the back of my finger, looked into her eyes for an 
instant, smiled, and kissed her forehead.  She smiled back, then 
wiggled into a closer embrace and seemed to fall back to sleep.  
That left me with my own, very personal, struggle.

The brief look in her eyes that morning showed me the same intense 
something that had been there the previous night.  I recognized it 
for what it was, though, because I felt the same thing deep inside 
myself, and it was the cause of an internal conflict the likes of 
which I had never known.

I loved John, my husband.  I had loved him since shortly after we 
first met.  He was my one true love - I had said so many times.  I 
had taken vows and had committed myself to a lifetime of love with 
him.  I knew, also, that he loved me just as deeply.

All that, and a lifetime of learning, were at war within me because, 
without the slightest doubt whatsoever, I knew I was in love with 
Cindy in the same way.  It's impossible, my brain screamed.  It's 
sick, my mother's voice cried.  You're a sinner, and you'll burn in 
hell, my old priest's voice shouted.

"I love you," whispered Cindy, drowning out all the other voices.  

"I love you too," I whispered back.  Our lips met, out tears 
mingled, and we held each other tight against the storm of the 
world.

Shortly thereafter, Dirty Dick appeared, and his voice tore through 
all our imaginings and hopes and dreams.  His iron hard, cold 
words spurred us back into his harsh here and now.

"You, slut, get breakfast.  Now!" he growled, staring at Cindy.  
She got up and ran from the room, still naked.

"You, slut, don't move," he said, staring at me.  I froze.  He 
climbed onto the bed, forcing himself between my legs, and started 
licking.  His tongue seemed hard, harsh, and impatient in 
comparison, yet the physical stimulation was still there.  I got 
moist enough for him to be satisfied.  The immediate, forceful 
penetration was still painful, and his thrusts were more so.  He 
still damned well hurt!  Thankfully, he was just as quick to finish 
as ever and filled me within a few minutes.

Some sort of strange thought rolled through his brain about then, 
and I have no idea where it came from.  His question, while 
pertinent, seemed several weeks late.

"You are on the pill, aren't you."

I just looked at him.  No, I wasn't on the pill.

"You're not on the pill?"  I shook my head, no.

"You're wearing a diaphragm?"  Again, I shook my head, no.

"Are you using protection of any kind?  An IUD?  You've had your 
tubes tied?"  Once more, I shook my head, no.

"Jesus H. Christ, you're ripe to get knocked up!"  He was almost 
instantly hard again, plunging deep inside and humping away like 
a madman.  His previous spendings lubricated me enough that he no 
longer caused frictional pain, but his hard pounding was starting 
to bruise other parts of my anatomy.

His mind must have gone somewhere strange, because he climaxed again 
very quickly, and I felt him pulse quite a few times, as if he were  
sending out a great number of spurts of semen.

When he pulled out, he stared at me for a few minutes before 
speaking.

"I'm gonna fill you so full of spunk, you'll be having my kids for 
then next twenty years."  His voice was low and intense, and his 
look was equally so.  Then he turned and left.  By the large amount 
of leakage I felt, he had been quite prolific.

I didn't bother to disabuse him of his erroneous belief.  No, I 
wasn't on the pill, or using any kind of protection.  There was no 
need.  When I was thirteen, I had a fever.  A week later, I was in 
the hospital.  Two days later, trying to save my life, they 
operated.  I survived, but parts of me didn't.  John knew, along 
with only a handful of other people.  It wasn't the type of thing 
you told to co-workers or casual acquaintances.  Or people like 
Dirty Dick.

We ate breakfast in the dining room, all quite naked.  Dick looked 
like he'd been licked clean, probably by Tanya.  I was leaking all 
over the chair, but he didn't seem to care.  In fact, he acted 
delighted at the sight of his juice seeping out of my slot.  His 
good humour sparked some careful smiles from Both Cindy and Tanya.  

After we finished, he let me clean up, and then had me model all the 
lingerie I'd purchased.  His good mood stayed, so he was apparently 
satisfied with what I'd bought.  We were all dressed again, sitting 
in the drawing room, and Dick was making small talk.  Nobody else 
was participating but he didn't seem to care.  I asked a very 
important question, and he looked delighted that I had asked.  At 
least, he took great delight in answering.

"Dick, how long is this business between you and me going to last?"  

The smile on his face got huge, hard, and nasty.

"Well, the way I figure it, with the right judge and prosecutor, 
you'd probably go to jail for five years.  So, our business will 
be over and done with in five years."

I stared at him, unbelievingly.  His hard, malevolent eyes left no 
doubt that he was telling me his version of the truth.  When I 
burst into tears, he laughed, long and hard, and left the room.  
Cindy and Tanya both tried to comfort me, to no avail.  I was 
inconsolable.  To be tied to that monster for a half a decade?  
Through the best years of my life?  For a few fleeting moments I 
considered suicide, but the look in Cindy's eyes, and the thought 
of what such an act would do to John, made me forget those urges.

Some time later in the afternoon I departed, and made my way 
home.  There's no memory left in me as to what I told John, or what 
we said or did, or anything.  All I remember is the awful, hollow 
feeling that had settled deep in the pit of my stomach.

**********

The following week went pretty much the same as the previous one 
had, as far as I can remember, except that we went to Tim 
Wakefield's office for his blow job, rather than him coming to 
Dick's.  I asked my boss about that, and he said we owed him one 
more, and then the slate was clean.  I became ill at lunch time, the 
thought of doing that again having a nasty effect on my innards.

The week after that, I was 'invited' to stay overnight at Dick's for 
a Tuesday night.  John accepted whatever lame excuse I came up with, 
and never mentioned anything more.  He seemed, at least on the 
surface, to be content with the new, much more libidinous, me.  I 
even shocked him one evening by giving him a blow job on the couch.  
I still didn't swallow, but the sheer novelty of the event rocked 
him to his core.  He told me so.

On the Tuesday, I took a change of clothes with me to work, and 
went straight to Dick's afterwards.  He drove.  The change of 
clothes was rather redundant, since by then I had acquired a half 
dozen different, rather sexy outfits, all hanging in Dick's storage 
room.  I took them for John's benefit.

Dick himself cooked dinner, since there was nobody there except the 
two of us, at least for the early part of the evening.  He was an 
adequate chef.  I was better, John was better, and I won't even 
try to compare Tanya's abilities with his.  We ate, made some idiot 
conversation, and basically wasted time until nine.  That's when his 
visitors arrived, and the reason for my being there became apparent.  

Two men came in, both Spanish-looking, both speaking with an accent.  
Neither spoke to me, only about me, and looked at me like an object.  
I suppose that's what they took me to be.  That's certainly how 
they treated me.  Dick had me strip in front of them, as sexily as 
possible.  They both made rude comments, both in English and in 
their native tongue, about what a fine body I had, what a pretty 
face, and what a lucky guy Dick was to own a slut like me.  I smiled 
pretty, even though I felt like puking all over them.  It was a 
horrible night.

First the taller, uglier one fucked me.  He hurt, especially when 
he bit my nipples.  The other one hurt too, only it was when he 
bruised my lips when forcing his mouth on mine.  He smoked, and the 
taste in his mouth was horrid.  Then the first one buggered me, with 
no lubrication, and laughed at my screams of pain.  Dick stuck his 
cock in my mouth to shut me up, since I was annoying the other guy.  
When those two finished, the other guy took me in the ass, bruising 
me even more, and choked me to stop my screaming.  For a while I was 
afraid for my life.  While my hands were busy trying to force the 
second guy's fingers apart enough so I could breathe, the first guy 
slapped around my breasts.  He told Dick that he liked the way they 
jiggled, and loved the way the red marks showed up so beautifully on 
my lightly tanned tits.

By they time they finished, I was a wreck, emotionally and 
physically.  They'd fulfilled their hedonistic fantasies, and I'd 
paid the price.  I crawled upstairs to the room I had shared with 
Cindy, had a short, hot, painful shower, then fell into a fitful 
slumber.  

Some time early in the morning I was awakened by someone crawling 
into my bed.  It was the second guy.  He clamped a hand over my 
mouth to stop me from screaming, then proceeded to rape me.  It 
hurt horribly.  Then he bit my left breast, on the side, very hard.  
That hurt even worse, and I could tell that the bruises and marks 
would be visible for weeks.  I cried, and the guy snickered as he 
walked away.

When Dick saw the teeth marks in the morning, he told me I must have 
done something to make the guy mad, and that it was my own fault.  
I'd have to live with the consequences.  I cried some more, so he 
slapped me across the face, hard enough to leave fingerprints.

Work was difficult.  Facing John that night was even more 
difficult.  Somehow I managed to keep him from noticing the 
bruises.

Thursday, I was told by Dirty Dick that I'd be spending another 
Saturday night at his place, except that it would be from breakfast 
on.  He had some fresh visitors to entertain.

The scum sucking bastard!  

John was upset, and I didn't blame him, but I simply couldn't tell 
him the truth.  Not if I wanted to keep him.  The thought of lying 
to him for five years, though, almost made me break down.  Almost.

********************************************************************



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