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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o This part of my collection offers a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also from o
o alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order to this o
o section of my collection, other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don't believe in categorizing things. "I don't want to be typed o
o therefore I don't type things myself." I think it's a lot more fun to o
o browse around and find 'little' surprises, and topics that you might o
o not have even thought of looking for. I hope you enjoy your time among o
o Kristen's book shelf directories. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. Thank you, Kristen Becker o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Attone - Part 1 (Fdom-F, MF, orgy, slave)
by AnonPIXNIX Author (c) 1990
***
Part One: In The Beginning...
She can still see it all as if it were happening again this
moment. The expression on his face just before impact. She could
see he knew it was coming; he knew he was going to be severely
injured and there was no way he could avoid it. That expression
said clearly what writers would take volumes to say. She could
see the face change as it hit the windshield only inches from her
eyes. It changed as if everything were happening in slow motion...
as if he were willing time to slow down enough to allow him to
get out of this mess. She could feel the bump of the rear tires
running over the body. And she could still feel her foot pressing
on the accelerator taking her away from there as quickly as
possible. She wonders if anyone else witnessed the horror that
occurred that night. She wonders if she could have saved his life
if she had stopped. She wonders how long these flashbacks would
go on. She wonders just what John really thinks of her. Outwardly
he acts like the model of a devoted husband...offering her support
and solace, as well as trying to cover up everything. She fears
what would happen if the authorities learned that she was the
hit-and-run driver they'd been looking for since Saturday. Mostly
she wonders, "Why me?"
The knock on the door recalled her to present reality.
Before she had time to get up and answer, the call "Barbara?"
told her it was Cheryl.
Cheryl had introduced herself the day she moved in, and
within an hour was talking about her sex life as if they'd been
lifelong friends. Barbara had been taken aback at first but came
to accept Cheryl's "cock sure of herself" boldness. For the most
part, Cheryl was an ordinary 23-year old girl-next-door. Plain
looking with no exceptional features. Sandy blonde hair, well
built, firm body, friendly personality, with a fixation on sex.
She had lived in the house next door with her parents until she
married and moved into her own apartment a year ago. Childless
and not working, she had plenty of time on her hands, especially
since her husband was so often away on business. She spent a good
deal of this time at her parent's home and, inevitably, at
Barbara's kitchen table over coffee. During these conversations
Barbara discovered that Cheryl was not really having a great
marriage; it was clear that Cheryl's lack of inhibitions clashed
with Don's prudish conservatism. Barbara also knew that Cheryl
wanted to get in the sack with John, and had hinted of swinging
when they were all partying together. Barbara knew Cheryl well
enough to know that Cheryl would never cease to surprise her.
Barbara sensed something different today. As she poured the
coffee, she noticed Cheryl sat at the table without saying a
word. This was totally out of character for Cheryl who normally
didn't stop talking from the moment she walked through the door
until she walked back out of it. Having set the cups on the
table, Barbara took her seat and was about to open the conversa-
tion with a "What's new?" when Cheryl suddenly opened up.
"Guess what happened to me Saturday night?" she began,
though not in the cheerful can't-wait-to-tell-ya tone one would
expect from Cheryl.
"What?" Barbara tried to sound genuinely interested in what
Cheryl was saying.
"I was coming home to spend the rest of the weekend at mom's
when I dropped my cigarette onto the carpet. I pulled over and
was looking for it when this drunk , trying to cross the street,
bumps into my car, staggers back, then walks right in front of
the car into the street." She paused to sip her coffee then lit a
cigarette before continuing. "Guess what happened next?"
"I have no idea." Barbara said. She could tell she was
beginning to panic. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought
surly Cheryl must hear it.
"Oh, I think you do." Cheryl responded. "I'm sure you know.
I saw a Pontiac, just like yours, come flying down the street,
run him down, and then take off like a bat out of hell. I saw a
woman driving who looked exactly like you. I saw the license
plate number and it was your number. Yes, Barbara, I think you
know." Cheryl's took a long drag on her cigarette and blew the
smoke over her cup toward Barbara.
"What the hell are you talking about? I was here with John
all night on Saturday. Ask him!" Barbara shot back.
"Barbara, this is me. I'm no fool. If that's the case, how
did your windshield get broken? Yes, I just happened to notice it
through the garage window on my way over. C'mon. Don't bullshit
me. You know, I wonder what the cops are gonna find when they go
over that windshield looking for hair or blood or whatever they
do in these cases."
"Why would the cops come here?" Barbara asked suspiciously.
She knew the answer of course, but couldn't think of anything
else to say at the moment. She just wanted to buy a little time
to get her head straight and think of some logical explanation.
Something. Anything.
"Well, Barbara, I've been fighting with myself since I saw
this `nice old guy' gunned down the other night. I think It's my
duty to call the police and tell them what I saw. Unless..."
Cheryl stopped, sipped and took another puff on the cigarette.
"Unless what?" Barbara was starting to drop her defenses.
`Maybe,' she thought, `there's a way out.' But why would Cheryl
say she was going to the police if she really wasn't? She felt
the blood rushing to her head and wondered if it was due to
embarrassment or to the fact that she was beginning to get a
little annoyed with this brat and wished she'd get to the point.
"You know, Barbara, it hasn't been fun for me this past
year. Marriage to Mr. Goody-Two-shoes is not what I'd call excit-
ing to begin with, and he's been away so much lately that its
like being single, only worse. If I were single, I could go out
and find someone for a wild night; being married puts a damper on
that. No, I've just been sitting around at nights, watching TV
and thinking thoughts. Lately those thoughts have been getting
wilder and wilder. When I saw you hit that guy the other night I
didn't know what to do. I mean, how could I face you without
thinking about what I saw? I sat home trying to think of some-
thing to say to you or how to bring it up or whatever. I'd just
sit there thinking about it and my thoughts would get wilder and
wilder. Finally I thought of what it would be like to have a maid
around the house. Someone to wait on me hand and foot and do
whatever I told her to." Cheryl crushed out her cigarette slowly
and deliberately, then lifted the coffee cup to her lips, watch-
ing Barbara over the rim.
Barbara could no longer control herself. This was too much.
Who the hell did this kid think she was?
"You've got to be crazy, Cheryl. If you think I'm gonna be
your maid and wait on you hand and foot, you're bananas."
"Listen, Barbara!" Cheryl's tone changed from sickly-sweet
to nasty and dominant. "I'm offering an alternative. Imagine
what'll happen if they find out you ran over that guy and then
left the scene. Vehicular homicide: at least a year or two in
prison. How are you going to cope with that? How will you explain
to your kids why they have to visit mommy in jail? How will John
cope without a woman around the house for that length of time?
Think about it."
"What is it you want me to do?" Barbara replied quietly. She
knew Cheryl had her, but being a maid for a while sure beat going
to jail. What would say to John? How could she get out of the
house without his knowledge?
"Whatever...and I do mean whatever... decide," Cheryl shot
back. "I'll tell you one thing, though. It's gonna involve more
than housework and waiting on me...a whole lot more. I told you
I've had some wild thoughts lately."
"Let's get this straight, Cheryl. I'm not a lesbian and
don't intend to become one. Get any thoughts like that right out
of your head."
"No, Barbara, you get it straight. You'll do whatever I say,
whenever I say, and with whoever I say. I'm not a lesbian either,
but I admit to wondering what it would be like."
"Cheryl, I can't," Barbara whined softly. "I simply can't."
"Tell you what. You think it over. You think it over real
good. Look at your husband and your kids, and think of what you
in prison will do to them. You think about it and when John comes
home, you talk to him about it. You make the decision. I'll be
back at 10 o'clock tonight. If you and John agree to this, you
put the kids to bed at 9, go take your shower, get all prettied
up, and put on your robe...just the robe, nothing underneath...and
wait for me. If I come back and you're not wearing your robe,
I'll know the answer is No. I'll leave immediately and the next
time you see me I'll be on a witness stand. You think about it.
And, by the way, if you decide to agree to my terms, have a nice
chilled bottle of wine on the table for me."
Cheryl stood up and looked at Barbara who was sitting there,
stunned, head bowed and near tears. She paused, walked casually
to the door and left.
Barbara reviewed the day in confusion, disbelief, shock and
humiliation. `I've certainly gotten into it this time.' She
remembered telling John what had happened with Cheryl that
afternoon. Expecting him to react with rage, she'd prepared
herself to restrain him from running next door and killing Cheryl
on the spot. But she'd been wrong. His response was much the same
as hers...defeat. He simply stared at his glass of beer without a
word. He never even looked up when she told him what she thought
she do. He never saw the tears forming in the corners of her eyes
as she told him how sorry she was for causing this mess and
screwing up their lives. He just stared at the beer as if the
golden liquid would show him an answer to all their problems.
Finally he stood up, said "Whatever you want to do, babe, I'm
with you. I can't tell you how sorry I am that this is happening
to you. Whatever you decide, I'll stick by you. I don't know what
I'd do." She wondered if he would stand by her or if this ordeal
would prove to much for him to handle. Then she wondered what was
in store for her. Just what the hell could possibly be worse than
what she'd been through these past couple of days. If she could
survive them, she could survive anything.
`I guess I'll find out soon enough,' she thought as she
finished drying off, stepped from the shower and into her robe.
Cheryl, as usual, was right on time. The knock on the back
door came just as the living room clock began to chime. Barbara
glanced at John, took a deep breath and shivered as she uncrossed
her legs to stand up. John motioned her to stay put and walked
casually to the back door.
"Cheryl, what the hell is going on?" he asked before the
door was fully open. John wasn't sure whether he should show
strength and force or humility. He was angry that Cheryl was
doing this to his wife, and afraid of what might happen if he
didn't consent. What bothered him most was that Cheryl obviously
wanted his wife, and he had been hoping for sack time with
Cheryl.
Cheryl took one step into the kitchen, looked at him and
smiled. She had obviously dressed for the occasion. A single
button secured the short, wrapped cotton dress at her waist. The
gauze clung so tightly to her body that the absence underwear was
unmistakable. He felt a familiar twinge in his loins.
"Let's find out, John, shall we?" she replied, brushing past
him to at the small table in the center of the room. Shifting her
tote bag to the other shoulder, she began to twirl the Zinfandel
in the ice bucket that in the center of the table.
"Look, Cheryl, think what you're asking of us. Friends don't
do this to friends. What do you expect of Barbara? God knows
she's been through enough already."
"Don't worry, John. I'm just going to have a little fun.
Barbara won't be hurt much. Right now this may seem such a
sinister thing, but lighten up. I think we'll all have a good
time in the end. You and I certainly will, though Barbara might
not care for it. But she'll have to put up with it for a while.
Who knows? She may enjoy it...but don't bet on it. As for what I
expect of Barbara, we'll go over that shortly.
"Do me a favor, will you? Get me a glass and bring the wine
into the living room while we talk this out."
Cheryl turned and walked into the living room. She looked at
Barbara sitting in the chair, and smiled when she noticed the
robe. She sat in the center of the sofa placing her bag beside
her. When John came in the room, he set the wine and glasses down
on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He silently picked up
the bottle and began to pour into the three glasses he'd set in a
row.
"Just two glasses, John. I don't think Barbara will have one
just yet." She looked at Barbara who sat nervous and frightened,
rubbing her hands together and staring at the carpet.
"Well, Barbara, it seems you've agreed to my terms after
all. Have you?" Cheryl asked while sipping on the cool wine.
"I guess so." Barbara's voice was barely audible and had a
distinct waver in it. She never moved her head as she spoke and
kept looking down at the carpet.
Cheryl smiled outwardly, but inwardly she was laughing. I've
got her where I want her she thought.
"Why, Barbara, I couldn't hear a word you said. Please come
over here and stand in front of the table right there in front of
me and answer my question." Cheryl spoke cheerfully, as if she
were discussing the weather or her new spring wardrobe.
Barbara shot a cold look at Cheryl and for a moment was
ready to pounce and rip her hair out. Luckily she regained her
composure quickly and realized that Cheryl was in the driver's
seat. She glanced at John who simply looked at her, then un-
crossed her legs and slowly started over to the sofa.
Cheryl smiled even wider when Barbara got up and walked over
to the spot she had directed. She lifted her glass and finished
the wine in one long sip then turned to John. His hard-on under-
mined the attempt to show disdain for the proceedings.
"John, would you refill my glass, please? And, by the way
John, please don't interrupt during this discussion. You'll have
plenty of time to voice your opinion to Barbara after I leave."
Cheryl then directed her attention to Barbara standing in
front of her. She did look hopeless standing there, still looking
at the carpet.