DISCLAIMER: Some of the things the characters do in this story are seen as offensive or frightening (even terrifying) by some if not most people. Please don’t surprise anyone. Always ask first. Have an agreed upon safe word even if you don’t do BDSM. See Cecilia Page for story codes and additional information.

Part 2— Chapter 3

She hit the floor hard with her hand. No. The man in the mask just stood above her and waited.

She rolled onto her back and exposed herself, spreading her cunt lips. She stared up at his face looking down at her.

He could be so arrogant. "Fuck me," she said quietly. "I've waited all day for you to fuck me."

Nothing.

She brought her heels to her ass and raised her pelvis in the air, thrust it at him. Once. Twice. Three times. She raised her pelvis so her back was arched - just her feet, shoulders and head touched the floor. She waved herself at him.

She wondered at times if he had others. That would explain his indifference. He was worn out. She was the least attractive of the lot; the least stimulating since she knew attractiveness wasn't only according to appearance.

Maybe if she wasn't crazy, if she spent time on herself, he would have the desire to fuck her like she needed to be fucked.

She begged him, listed the things he could do, where he could do them, told him how good it would feel for him - she didn't matter.

He stood above her, by her head now. Closer. Was he interested? He turned to glance over his shoulder, then back at her, a smile this time on his face.

He spit on her, then left her as someone knocked on the door.

Shit, she thought. The cab. "Just a minute," she said. She wiped her face and lowered her body to the floor.

"Just a minute," she yelled to the second knock.

She rose to her feet slowly, carefully. She went to the door, opened it a crack.

Joe looked at her with concern in his expression.

"I'm getting ready. I forgot the time. I'm sorry. Did you want to wait inside?"

He smiled at her. "I'll wait in the cab. Take your time."

She watched him leave. That was the first time she'd ever seen him smile.

It took ten minutes to wash off and throw something on. Her pumps, jeans, camisole top and light jacket that she left open. She crammed her list and videos in the bag and tried to walk to the cab with composure. She never locked her house door. She couldn't remember where she'd put the key.

She sat in the back seat on the passenger side. She took out her list from the bag, "Wrench, Incense, Paraphernalia & Videos." Not on the list were groceries. They were a given.

She told Joe to go to the adult bookstore first. They might have the paraphernalia she needed. She unsnapped and unzipped her jeans, opening them. She slid her hand into them and watched the scenery as Joe drove toward the highway.

She shut her eyes.

William and she lived together for a short time before getting married so she knew what to expect. He didn't smoke dope, had never, ever, done acid, and was moderate in his consumption of alcohol though she remembered several remarkable binges with him.

She stopped smoking dope, had stopped seeing other guys or fucking strangers somewhere between their first "date," his word, not hers, and getting married. She put away everything -- like clothes into a closet -- music, books, ideas, she'd lived by.

She became straight and it was pretty nice for a while. William was fantastic in bed, they got married, she got pregnant, Ashley took up all her time while William tried to make a go of it. The first twelve years were pretty lean which was nice. William still wore jeans around the house, cutoffs in the summer. Her too, or loose dresses. That changed when, finally working for himself, his design business took off.

She remembered how William's body felt, how touching his chest, even if he was dressed, caused a thrill high above the hidden end of her vagina. Her cunt lips would naturally spread.

Under him, his cock at the edge of her cunt, ready to plunge, he always kissed her nose first, her eyebrow, then her lips. She tasted his tongue as his magnificent cock shot into her, up her, through her.

Her body shook as if jolted; she turned away from him and cried, "Oh God," as he drew back, the head of his cock just touching her cunt.

She screamed when he drove his huge cock into her cunt a second time.

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

She blinked her eyes, took a deep breath. "Sorry."

"Should I take you back home?"

She slowly withdrew her hand from her dripping cunt and lay it wet on the seat. She could smell her juices. She righted herself, sat up straight. "No, I'm all right." She gave a nervous laugh, "I must have fallen asleep."

"We're there, ma'am." He parked by the other cars.

"This will take longer this time, Joe. Give me twenty minutes. If I'm not back, please come get me."

"Want me to come in with you?" He never turned to look at her when he talked; he spoke to the windshield.

"No, I'll be perfectly fine." She left the cab with her bag, steeled herself, then walked to the door of the sex shop. It was only when the door closed behind her and everyone was staring at her, the only woman there, that she remembered her pants. She left them unzipped, went to the counter and dumped the videos out.

It took longer than she expected to find what she wanted, but Joe hadn't appeared so she must still be under the time limit.

When she was ready to pay she gave the clerk, a tall older man with gray hair and glasses who looked out of place here, her credit card. He wrote out the slip and called it in. He studied her, talked to the person on the other end of the line, then hung up.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This card is no longer active."

She reached for it.

"I'm afraid I can't give it back."

"That's all right. I'll write a check." She took her new checkbook out of her bag and got the total from the clerk. Expensive. Now that William made it so she no longer had the credit card, she was going to have to watch her pennies.

The divorce must be through, she thought as she carried the bag from the sex shop. Finally. It had been ages to her; William had been unusually quick.

The wrench was her last stop. The back seat was filled with her purchases; she'd done very well.

"Joe, I need to buy a wrench for a stubborn nut and I haven't the slightest idea where to go. Can you offer a suggestion?"

"What kind of wrench, ma'am?"

She stared down at her hand, moved it away from her crotch. She raised her head and spoke to his eyes in the rearview mirror. "I don't know the name. A round thing at one end, a claw thing at the other. I need a big one. I'll know it when I see it."

He gave a nod. "We're not far."

"Thank you, Joe. You are always so helpful."

"Having problems with your van?"

"No, it's not that."

"Does it run?"

"Yes." She felt her hand move back to her crotch, shifted it away.

"Just wondered, ma'am."

"No, the wrench is for something else."

"We're here. Want me to come in with you?"

She thought for a moment. "No, I think I can manage." She left the cab, said before she closed the door, "If I'm not back . . ."

"In ten minutes, I will."

She shut the door and went into the store. A wrench, if they had it; she also could use clothesline and clothespins.

She found the hardware store fascinating. Joe stood next to her.

"Everything okay, ma'am?"

She held the alligator clip to him. "Imagine." She dropped several into her hand basket. "This is so much fun, Joe." She smiled at him and returned to her careful inspection of every item in the aisle. He remained quietly at her side.

She opened and closed the clothespin in her hand while she thought. She put her other hand on the front seat. "Joe. I'll need help carrying everything in. I was wondering if you'd like a cup of tea?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Okay, ma'am. I shouldn't stay long."

"Just a few minutes. We can relax." She closed the pin on her finger, felt the sparkle of pain. She tried to concentrate. She leaned into the corner of the back seat, brought her left leg up onto the seat. She stared out the window as she brought her hand with the clothespin up her stomach under her top. Slowly. She was bad; she was sure Joe would understand. She touched her nipple, rubbed the clothespin against it.

"We're here."

She lowered her hand, took off the clothespin and dropped it into one of the bags.

She led him into her house, carried her bags to the kitchen counter.

"I'll get the rest," he said.

"I'll start the water."

After the kettle was on she walked past him and set a stack of videos on the VCR. She followed him to the kitchen.

Joe stood looking out the window at the sheet of plastic hanging from the clothesline. She sorted through her bags, carried the bag with paraphernalia to the living room and laid it on the mattress.

The kettle whistled; she shook herself and went back into the kitchen. Joe had turned off the burner.

"I was going to brew some Earl Grey. I know it has caffeine but today is a special day. Cream? Sugar?"

"Just as it is, ma'am."

She smiled at him. "My name is Cecilia."

He watched her pour the water into a teapot. "Cecilia, the patron saint of musicians."

"What did you say?"

"Cecilia, the Italian pronunciation."

"Say it again, slowly."

"Cecilia. Ch sound instead of S sound for the letter C. Cecilia."

Her cunt lips quivered when he said her name that way. She stared at him. "Cecilia."

"Beautiful name. It fits you, ma'am."

"Cecilia."

He blushed, not beet red, but colored. He dropped his eyes.

"Let's go into the living room." She picked up the pot with both hands; he carried the cups.

She sat on the mattress; he sat with the bag between them.

"We'll let it steep for a minute." She tried to keep her hands from fidgeting. "Joe, I wanted to ask a favor of you."

"You can ask." He raised his eyes to hers, waited.

"I was wondering if you'd be available the next three evenings."

"Ma'am?"

"Cecilia, please."

"Ma'am, if you need me, I can be here."

"Time to pour."

He handed her the cups. She poured his and handed it back. She poured hers and set it on the floor. She set her hands in her lap. "This is hard to say, Joe. My husband and I separated. The divorce just came through today." She smiled. "That's why we're celebrating. This has been hard for me. In many ways. I'm sure you've noticed."

"Ma'am."

"You're too polite to me. I'd like to be friends."

He grinned. "It's how I was raised." He paused. "Cecilia."

Her cunt lips fluttered. She wondered why dealing with Dave was easier. "Say from six thirty until I'm not sure how late tonight."

"My cab?"

"You, Joe." She touched the paper bag. "This is sounding contrived. I need your help but not as a . . . with a . . . but I might. Is that possible?"

He watched her.

"Are you gay?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No, ma'am. Cecilia."

"This isn't what it sounds like. This is . . . can you be here at six thirty tonight? There will be a reward. I promise."

"How about as a friend?" He set his cup down. "To be honest, Cecilia, I don't take any calls until you're through with me. I wait for yours. The guys laugh at me, you're laughing at me. I'll be here."

She tried hard to hold on; it was so hard. She wanted to shut her eyes and dive into that world. She wanted to fling herself across the bed onto him and beg him to fuck her. Fast and hard, use her however he wanted, wherever he wanted.

She felt a rush of heat rise from her loins. Her mouth was dry. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave in a minute. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. I need to get back to work." He finished his tea and set the cup down. He stood, rose from his cross-legged position with a grace she expected to see in a teenager.

She followed him to the door, touched his hand. She froze. She felt his skin, another person's skin. His bones, the differentness of him. "I . . ."

He waited.

"I . . ." She felt as if she were in the midst of a storm. Her whole world, the ground, the house, everything, was rocking terribly, shifting. She swallowed, his face appeared out of the haze. "When you come by this evening, I won't be able to ask you in right away. It may be hours." She pleaded with him. Say yes. Say you'll fuck me.

"I can wait in the cab. If you like, I can check out the van."

She withdrew her hand from his. "I'll get the key."

She returned with the van key, watched him leave. She turned, took two steps, then slapped her face hard. "You bitch." She hit herself again, threw herself into the wall. "You fucking slut."

She fell to the floor and knocked her forehead against the floor. "He's not for you, slut," she panted between blows. "I know."

She jumped to her feet and frantically pulled off her clothes, flinging them across the room. "You need to be punished. You fucking slut." She slapped her face.

She tore open the bag on the mattress. What she was looking for wasn't there. She ran to the kitchen. She pulled open a drawer so hard it came out; it and its contents fell on the floor. "Shit," she said. She knelt, found a knife and raised it.

"No," she screamed. "Ashley." She threw the knife, jumped to her feet and dumped the contents of the bags on the counter.

She walked slowly back to the living room with a handful of clothespins in her hand. She found the twelve inch black dildo in the corner. She lay on the floor, plunged the dildo into her dry cunt.

"Fucking slut," she said. She sat up, put clothespins on her labia around the dildo, one each on her nipples. The pain brought her calm. She lay back down on the floor, worked the dildo in and out of her cunt savagely, and then stopped. Her face was wet with tears. "I'm sorry," she said.

She shut her eyes.

Sissy Slut left Wally at the racetrack. He was pretty boring. She rode in the back of a van with three men, rednecks from down state.

She'd fucked plenty of rednecks before, but this was the first she'd really spent much time with them. She found there were things she liked about them and things she didn't. She thought jerky was disquieting. She liked having her cunt grabbed at truck stops and being passed around. Chewing tobacco was disgusting. The combination of roughness with a sweet tenderness was endearing. They could be abusive at one moment, the next have real tears in their eyes when they talked about their mommas.

She liked the rough and ready way they used her. On the highway they stopped along the road for a break. They tossed her out of the van without any clothes on, laughed as she scampered across a field of high grass to squat and pee.

When she came back, they held her against the van as one after the other fucked her while cars and trucks sped past.

She lay in the back, amidst a jumble of greasy car parts and tools, sore and felt like she was appreciated.

Home was a room above a garage in a city's cement wilderness. Her day was spent giving blowjobs and smoking dope. Could life be any better?

She was traded for a six pack of beer and a half a ki of weed to a biker gang who expected her to work for a living. She did the work; they did the living. Still blowjobs and weed, but that after she'd done her quota on the street.

It was pretty boring. The first time she tried to run away they beat the crap out of her and did other shit. They promised the next time they'd kill her. She believed them. No fun at all.

She let a trick talk her into taking her home with him. After a week of that she decided she really missed Wally.

She laid her pen down. Sissy Slut was supposed to have fun, get fucked a lot and have fun. Maybe this was a bridge to something better. Maybe after she wrote the racetrack episode, she could write about Sissy having a good time cumming and cumming as guys fucked and fucked her.

She checked the clock on the VCR. It was time to clean up before Ashley arrived. She carried the notebook to the computer desk, stepping over the vomit on the floor.

She scared herself sometimes. She was exhausted and the important part of the day was still to come when Trudie arrived.

She checked the room. Ashley was going to call at eleven, they were supposed to meet again tomorrow. Friday was the day after tomorrow.

She had laid out the candles in the living room, on the floor, in the corners. She didn't know how many; there were a lot of candles.

Her toys were in a bag by the VCR, her paraphernalia was in another. Clean sheet on the bed, burgundy. It really made the place look nice.

Joe had pulled up at six thirty and she'd gone out to thank him before she changed into her clothes. He didn't look like he minded waiting.

Fifteen minutes. She had thought all afternoon, not all, part had been in the basement, part with Sissy Slut, but that was par for the course. She decided on jeans, then changed her mind. She went to the living room, came back a few minutes later and slipped on a black knit miniskirt, red lace wonderbra. The bra really worked; she was impressed. She gave her hair a quick brush, put on scarlet lipstick. She would remain barefoot for the evening.

She cut vegetables in the kitchen. She tried to remain remote from events earlier this morning. Stuff had happened, stuff was always happening; that was life. She wished she wasn't crazy. Every now and again she thought things were leveling out then everything went kerblooey and she ended up having a sore cunt and memories she'd rather not have.

Poor Sissy Slut.

Trudie was punctual. Her knock on the door was exactly at seven by the stove clock. She dried her hands and went to the door.

Trudie was beautiful. Young. Mid-twenties. Curly blonde hair, sweet face. She could be either a model or a country music star. She was short, five foot one or two, great build for her size. Just right. Like a model for sure.

Trudie was a bit nervous; she took her to the kitchen where they could talk while she made dinner. As she finished the vegetables she marveled how Trudie could wear such an odd combination of clothes and not look like a child. Heels, but with little white socks with lace trim. White miniskirt of some shiny material, a white cotton top that left her midriff and part of her breasts bare. Trudie wore a white lace choker with a cameo that somehow looked cheap.

She dumped the vegetables into a bowl and dished up the rice. She'd only had one person over for dinner and that was Dave last night. Macrobiotic didn't seem to enthuse him.

Trudie carried the bowls to the mattress; she followed with glasses of water. They sat next to each other, not close. Each made a quarter turn to the other.

"Thank you for coming," she said.

"You said it was important and mentioned Coach Adams' name."

She made a face and Trudie grinned. "My daughter has an English teacher named Taylor."

"You have a daughter in high school?"

"Flatterer. Ashley."

"Ashley Stephens. Smart girl."

"So you're Miss Taylor."

"Second year teaching." Trudie gave a smile.

She set her bowl aside. "I'm not sure how to go about this."

"Is the man in the driveway Ashley's father?"

"No, that's Joe. William and I are divorced. Just recently. Joe's a friend." Trudie raised an eyebrow. "A friend who is checking out my van for me."

Trudie smiled.

"Coach Adams told me you were at one time . . . but aren't any more . . . They are trying to blackmail Ashley to be . . ." She gave nervous smile.

"I was, I'm not because that shithead thought he could get me to turn tricks for him. In retaliation he sent a film to my boyfriend; no more boyfriend." Trudie ground her heel into the floor.

"Same thing with Ashley. There's a video. Ashley's father would go absolutely ballistic." She gave a smile. "I'm trying to get all the copies of the video."

"Good luck."

"I know. I'm not that worried. Coach Adams had a film made of him having sex with a minor."

"Smart enough to shoot himself in the foot."

"Exactly. What I want to do is to create a situation that will resolve this issue, and a few others, once and for all."

Trudie waved the glass of water at her and took a sip. "Good luck."

"I need you to be team slut this Friday after the game."

"Okay." Trudie grinned.

"Just like that?"

"Sure."

"That's a relief. The other part is even harder to explain. It involves you again, tonight, and that man in the drive. More of the situation."

"Joe?"

"Yes, Joe."

"Sure." Trudie grinned, then took a sip of water.

"You'll be in the dark until later tonight." She waited.

"I like mysteries." Trudie set her glass on the floor.

"Can I have a promise that even if, at some stage, you decide to back out tonight, you'll still be available Friday?"

"As team slut after the game. Sure."

"Do you like teaching English?"

Trudie laughed and then gave a quick nod.

"Are you committed to staying here?"

"Do I want to stay here? I guess. I have a contract for the school year."

"But if something came up?"

"I have no ties to the area."

She nodded. "Good. Keep that in mind." She rose to her feet, picked up the dishes. "I'll be right back." She left Trudie on the mattress. Why were women easier? She tried not to see the man in the mask sitting at the computer then said, fuck it. She went up to him and peered over his shoulder.

He was typing a story. It looked like she was going to eat out again tonight. She left him and joined Trudie on the mattress. "See anything you want to watch?"

Trudie looked up at her. "No, just being nosy." She stood and put the videos back on the VCR, returned to her seat.

"I've been writing recently. I'd love to have your opinion. Before you leave remind me to give you a printout."

"Like those?" Trudie motioned to the VCR with her head.

"Better, I hope."

"Sure."

"I like the way you say sure, Trudie. We should let dinner digest before getting into anything too strenuous."

"Too strenuous?" Trudie grinned.

"But there's no reason not to start, if you're willing."

"Sure." Trudie raised an eyebrow.

She rose to her feet, stepped away from the mattress. "Take off your clothes and lie on your back on the bed. Now." She hoped she was doing it right.

Trudie sat still. "Why?"

She went to the bag with the paraphernalia and searched until she found the black leather half hood. She put it over her head and face and fastened the closure.

She felt different, looked over to the computer. The man in the mask was watching her, a smile on his face. She turned and looked at Trudie. "Strip."

Trudie shook her head, a half smile on her lips.

She walked to the mattress, stopped. She unfastened her bra and tossed it onto the floor. "Now."

Trudie stared at her breasts, raised her eyes and shook her head.

She pulled the elastic waistband of her skirt slowly down, stepped out of it. "Now."

Trudie stared at her. "What . . ."

She shoved her crotch into Trudie's face. "Go ahead, touch them."

Trudie touched the rope, followed it down to her cunt to the running vibrators in her ass and vagina. The second electric touch in months. She pressed into Trudie's hand.

"They're on."

"Of course. How else could I concentrate?" She watched Trudie unfasten her shoes, remove her socks. "You have three penalties for not obeying. You won't be able to play with Joe until much later."

Trudie slipped off her top. Her small round breasts had bright pink nipples. They looked good enough to eat. Trudie nodded briefly as she slipped out of her white miniskirt.

She wanted to dive into Trudie's crotch. Trudie had two tattoos, one on each side of her pussy. They were jagged and ancient looking thunderbolts in red, outlined in black. Trudie wasn't shaved; her pubic hair was fine and blonde.

Trudie lay back on the bed, her hand rested on her stomach. Trudie watched her as she knelt beside her.

She held her hand in the air over Trudie's stomach, then lowered it so it was half on Trudie's hand, half on her stomach. Such soft flesh.

She spoke slowly and with effort. The masked hood affected her hearing, how things sounded and how she sounded. "If you don't like something I do, tell me. If I don't listen, scream and Joe will stop me. I sometimes forget where or who I am."

Trudie watched her face, gave a nod and smiled. "I'll be okay."

She lifted her hand, rose to her feet and went to her paraphernalia bag. She came back with several lengths of white cotton clothesline. "Before I start, why the little girl get up?"

"Coach Adams has pictures."

"That's changed."

"Easy for you to say."

"Penalty."

Trudie stared at her for a moment then nodded slowly.

"Roll over, hands behind your back."

Trudie rolled over.

She looked up. The man in the mask was gone and the computer was off. She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard the van start. She returned to her task, taking a second to briefly caress Trudie's beautiful ass.

She wore her black jeans, the twelve-inch dildo sticking out of the fly, and hooded mask. She opened the door and called Joe.

He walked in, looked at her, looked at Trudie, and leaned against the wall.

"She's ready for you." She walked past the mattress, unfastened her pants and took out the dildo. She tossed it onto the floor. "Would you like some tea?" She dropped her jeans and stepped out of them. She was naked except for the black leather hooded mask.

Joe gave a nod, stared at her then Trudie.

Trudie was on her knees and elbows, head resting on the bed, slowly waving her ass back and forth. She turned to glance at him over her shoulder, then turned back to face the bed.

When she returned with three cups of tea, Joe still leaned against the wall. "Join us. Up, Trudie." She sat on the mattress. "Trudie, this is Joe. Joe, this is Trudie. You already know me." She patted the bed. "Between us."

Joe sat between them, stared at the TV.

"I like them eager," Trudie said, bending forward to peer at her.

"Quiet."

Trudie sat back.

"Is there a problem, Joe?"

He smiled at her. "When you said a reward earlier, I hoped for a kiss from you at most. Yes, there's a problem."

She put her hand next to his leg, almost touched it. "Say my name."

"Cecilia."

She felt that thrill in her when her womb opened, did a flop, tried to fly. "This is hard for me." She got up. "I need to get some things."

She came back with the two by fours and set up the square next to the wall. She went out into the yard and brought back the plastic sheet. The night air was cool. She laid the plastic over the two by fours and sat in the center. "I'm sorry."

She shut her eyes; she was in the kitchen bent over a low counter. The cook was finished with her, his assistants waited in line. She opened her eyes.

Joe turned to look at her. Trudie faced the VCR; she laid her hand on his leg.

"Joe, I'm crazy. Not crazy as a loon but fucking crazy as a loon. I want to watch you two. That's all I can do tonight. Maybe a little more tomorrow night, and more on Friday. Perhaps I can kiss you on Friday night when this is all over. How's the van?"

"It's in good shape."

"Ready for a trip?"

He nodded.

"Can I watch you?"

"It's okay with me," Trudie said.

"Okay," Joe said. "I guess. You won't laugh?" He paused. "Nature hasn't been kind."

"We won't laugh."

Joe stood and took off his shirt. He let it drop to the floor. He lowered his pants and Trudie began to laugh.

She smiled at Joe. "Go on. She's just nervous."

He lowered his underwear and his huge cock flopped free. He glanced at Trudie, then her. "See?"

"She'll manage."

"Or die trying," Trudie said.

Joe knelt by Trudie and they kissed.

She watched as Joe was slow and gentle with Trudie. They kissed and explored each other's bodies before they lay next to each other. She couldn't hear what they were saying; they talked for some time.

She shut her eyes.

The third assistant was fucking her hard, holding her hair and pressing her face into the counter as he thrust. She cried out, pushed her ass into him.

The activities in the kitchen were slowly returning to normal. The cook was angry at something someone had done, the dishwasher was noisy, and there was a constant clatter of steel pots and lids.

He grunted as he thrust. She wasn't feeling much because of all the cum. The stainless steel she lay on was cold and hard against her body and face.

He pulled her head up and she screamed as he came.

She had an instant of clarity in her orgasm. She stood, pushed off the next assistant. "I'll be back," she said.

She left the kitchen, naked; her dress was somewhere in the restaurant. Not that it mattered at this point. Cum dripped in thick gooey loops out of her cunt, it dripped off her face, back and breasts. Her front was powdered with white flour from the counter in the kitchen.

She walked slowly to their table; no one seemed to notice her. She sat and asked the man in the mask, "Who is my master?"

He ate a bite of his lamb, chewed, set his knife and fork by his plate. He swallowed and closely watched her for a moment then gave a subtle smile. "Your master is someone very close to you."

Her head hit the wall and her eyes snapped open. Trudie lay on her back, under Joe who thrust slowly and rhythmically into her. He rubbed his face against Trudie's then looked at her and smiled.

He thrust for hours. Trudie was limp under him, moaning, gasping, and then quiet. Her hand beat a different rhythm than the one by which she was being fucked.

It was agonizing to watch them. She wanted to cry out, to join them, hold Trudie, be Trudie. She touched her clit.

Trudie and Joe helped her stand. Trudie led her to the bathroom leaving Joe to deal with the mess. She was groggy, leaned against Trudie in the shower.

She fell against Trudie and cried when she realized what she had done.

Joe was waiting for them in the bathroom when they were finished in the shower. After they were dry he handed her hooded mask back to her. She pushed it away.

"Wear it yourself."

"Hold her still," he said. He fit the mask over her head and fastened the back.

She saw her face in the mirror.

She sat between Trudie and Joe on the mattress. She felt dead, drained. She studied Trudie. Trudie looked like she was well-fucked, had a huge grin on her face.

Trudie drew her near. "Joe said you could fuck my ass while he does my cunt." She lowered her voice. "I think he loves you."

She turned to Joe.

"Need to rest?" he asked.

She wasn't sure.

"May I touch you?"

She gave a slow nod, waited.

He held his hand open before her, lowered it. He cupped her pussy. "Cecilia," he said.

She did somersaults; all the tension left her body. She shut her eyes. Nothing. Opened them. She turned to Joe. "Let's fuck Trudie senseless."

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Part 1 — Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Part 2 — Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
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