by Sasha Bond
"Don't touch them too much until they're healed; you might get an infection," Tara warned.
Melanie's fingers flinched.
"They look very good on you," commented Elena. "Tara has done a great job as usual."
"She looks like a very hot Goth chick now."
"What's the total bill?" asked Elena while winking at her friend.
"It'll be five-hundred dollars," replied Tara with a hint of sarcasm.
Melanie's eyes widened at the ridiculous cost.
Elena feigned searching for her wallet. "Oops, I forgot to bring my wallet. Melanie, I'm sorry that I can't pay for your piercings."
"What?! I don't have that much money!" She looked nervously at Elena, who was smiling back at her.
"If you can't pay up, Melanie, then I'll have to call the cops," said Tara.
"No, please don't!" exclaimed Melanie, thinking that Tara was serious.
"Is there another way she can pay?" asked Elena with mock concern.
"Let me think... Yes, there is another way, but is she willing?" Tara eyed Melanie's body lecherously up and down.
The way Tara was looking at her made Melanie realize what the other option for payment was going to be.
"Are you in to girls, Maddy?" asked Tara.
"Umm... I-I..."
"She's very much in to girls. Just recently, she found out that she's a lesbian," answered Elena for Melanie.
"Just recently? Does that mean she's a virgin?"
"She's still a virgin, but she's had a lot of experience with girls, including me."
"Wow, that's surprising. Maddy looks like an innocent girl, but she's actually a slut."
That word "slut" triggered sharp feelings of shame and denial within Melanie.
"No, I'm not--"
Melanie’s denial was cut short by Tara. "Since you're a lesbian slut, you should have no problem licking my pussy."
Tara unbuckled her belt and began pulling down her jeans.
ENSLAVED
I clenched my thighs around my hand and tried to stifle the gasp that was trying to escape my throat. Outrageous was the word that popped up in my head, and I said so. Fabric rustled at the other side of the room, followed by bare feet which pattered unsteadily through the dark. My mattress sank down next to me.
"Rachel!" I exclaimed and felt embarrassed, lying in bed like this, my night pants down at my ankles, my top bunched around my neck, one hand on my moist sex. Yes, the room was dark and I was covered by the blanket, but I was sure that Rachel was all too aware what I was doing in my bed. Until now, with the whole room between us, I could pretend that she didn't realize what I was doing when we had our slippery whispered conversations, and she could pretend the same with me. Her being so close added a whole new level of intimacy, and it made me feel uncomfortable. It crossed a threshold, and I wasn't into girls.
"Hush," she whispered, "just imagine how it would be. You'd have to do anything he asked you to, anything. He'd be unable to resist the temptation."
"I don't know," I whimpered, and felt like chastising myself, I couldn't seriously be considering it!
Rachel had always had a wicked imagination, and those few times I had let myself be talked into doing naughty things, like flashing my boobs from the car window or streaking naked across the college lawn at night, it had been her constant needling that had persuaded me. But now that the end of our college time was approaching fast, her imagination seemed to drift from just naughty to seriously kinky. Our nightly talks tended to turn from sweet guys to ropes or cuffs or even whips and paddles on a regular basis, and while it still made me uncomfortable, I couldn't deny that it intrigued me a bit as well.
We'd been roommates for the whole time, almost four years, at St. Mary's College, she, the lean, blonde and super-toned embodiment of the hyper and outgoing California girl and me, the grey mouse with the brunette page cut from the bible belt. Despite our differences in looks and upbringing we had gotten on brilliantly from the first moment, and had soon established our roles. I'd keep our room tidy, help her with homework and remind her of deadlines, while she made sure that I didn't get buried under books and whisked me out of the dorm room to party and have fun every so often.
"I really don't know!" I told her again, and almost shrieked when she moved on the bed and the mattress compressed on both sides of my hips. "Rachel!"
She tittered. Then her weight settled on my stomach, or in fact, on my arm that was still extended across it and cupping my sex. I stiffened and my eyes went wide, staring fearfully at her silhouette.
"Oh my," she whispered, her amusement dripping from her lips, "the thought has you all worked up. You naughty, naughty girl!"
I don't know what exactly went on in my head at that moment, I could have pushed her off me, ordered her to leave me alone, but something in her playful banter touched deep inside me, reached something previously hidden. My pussy tingled and I couldn't stop myself from crooking a finger and dipping it into my moist folds.
She seemed to notice what was going on with me, because more of her weight settled on my stomach and arm, so I was unable to move it even an inch. I felt trapped - and hot. Then her weight shifted again, and I realized with a gasp that she was leaning forward, until her upper body was pressing down on mine, and her face was just inches from my own.
"Will you do it?" She inquired, and I could feel her breath tickle my cheek.
Goosebumps raced across my skin. I was close to hyperventilating. This felt wrong, but at the same time, something stirred inside me, a beast yearning to be set free.
"I - I don't think I can," I groaned.
Her idea was - as I have already said - outrageous, and I wish I hadn't confessed my fantasies to her, my dreams of being Jacob's toy, the plaything of our tall, good-looking, funny dorm neighbor. I had been admiring him from afar for the last two years, and ever since he stopped me from toppling from the floor when I bumped into him after turning a corner a few months ago, my fantasies had turned him into my strong, ruthless hero. He had caught me in his strong hands and set me upright again without effort, with an almost painful grip around my arms.
In the beginning, I had imagined us to make love for hours, sweetly, sensuously, but lately those images had turned towards rough sex, him taking his pleasure from me without asking, without tenderness.
And Rachel had come up with a solution. Time was running out, because in a few months - months that would be filled with waiting for the results of our finals, being away for spring break and finally some business orientation courses - we'd be off to real life and real jobs. I don't know if it was the pressure of the upcoming exams or her constant talk about kinky sex that had kindled my fantasies, but I couldn't get them out of my head, and so one night, after a whispered discussion about new kinky implements of torture she had discovered on the internet and a bit tipsy from three glasses of sparkling wine, I had laid my dark secret bare to her. And she had made it her mission to make them become reality. Even worse, I had, in a fit of utter craziness, asked her to make sure it became real.
Her solution was blackmail. No, not blackmailing him, that wouldn't really work, would it? 'Be ruthless or else!' What a silly idea! Rachel's idea was rather the opposite, about giving him the material to blackmail me. Of course, that sounds easier as it is, but while I was still stumped about how I could accomplish that after she had lined out her basic idea, she already had a plan. A crazy, convoluted plan nonetheless, but then, her plans tended to be like that, but she usually got what she wanted. And so I played along, albeit hesitantly.
In fact, it could be reduced to two words: lewd conduct. St. Mary's was a catholic college, and while it was overall just as modern as others, a few out-dated views were still alive in the rulebook. One of those was the ban on gay and lesbian sex, and an offence would mean immediate expulsion. Perfect blackmail material.
"Rachel," I pleaded once more, "I can't! What if something goes wrong, what if the pictures come out into the open? It's my futur
e, I'd get thrown out without a degree!"
"Oh Beth," she whispered. "If you don't take risks, you'll never experience anything worthwhile." Suddenly, her fingers were stroking my cheek.
"Rachel!" I objected, and pulled my free arm out of the blanked to push her hand away. Before I could do so she had anticipated my movement and captured my wrist, pulling my hand above my head and pushing it down into the cushion, then her other hand went back to caressing my cheek. "Rachel!"
My protests fell on deaf ears. "Don't fight it, honey," she purred, "imagine I'm Jacob, and I have you here, helpless, knowing that I can do with you whatever I want."
I couldn't help it. I mean, I probably could have helped it, if I had really tried. But the image was so delicious that I didn't want to resist. I was aware that our nightly sessions of whispering across the room had suddenly changed into something profoundly sexual, and that I was letting myself being led towards a slippery slope, but I didn't care.
After four years of friendship, I trusted Rachel, and I didn't want to pass up the possibility of fulfilling my fantasies. But, most of all, something about my position, one hand trapped on my pussy, the other over my head, made my body tingle and my clit pulsate. I closed my eyes.
"Oh god," I murmured, "I'm so hot. I'm yours."
I know, I'd had more eloquent moments in my life, but thinking was really becoming difficult.
"Yes, you're mine." To me, it was now Jacob's deep voice mixed with Rachel's. "Mine to do whatever I want."
I could almost smell the heavy scent of his aftershave, and I shuddered from want. Then I felt pressure on my left breast, fingers wrapping around it through the thin blanket, kneading it roughly. I squirmed, groaning my approval while I added a second finger in my pussy and began to pump then in and out, slowly.
Teeth nibbled on the tender spot between my shoulder and neck and drew a long moan from me. "Harder!" I demanded, and my wishes were instantly answered by a sharp yet bearable pain that had me gasping for air. The fingers around my breast clenched, mauled it, and I felt the heat there spread through my body. I was fast approaching my climax, and my gasps and moans made it obvious.
Then the teeth and the hand left, and Rachel's weight shifted back and forced me to stop my ministrations on my pussy. I felt somehow empty and complained. "Nooo! Bitch!"
A giggle answered me. "Come on, let's do it."
A bit of rational thought returned, but not enough to suppress the yearning between my thighs. My breath was still way faster than normal. The shame I felt for almost climaxing at the hands of my female roommate didn't help. "What? Now?"
"No time like the present!" Her voice was self-assured and determined.
My lips went dry, and my heart started to beat a mile a minute. "Can't we just do it tomorrow?" My question sounded meek and was overshadowed by the unsatisfied need in my loins.
Then her weight vanished from the bed, and before I could react, my blanket was pulled away. I gasped. Some rustling followed, then I heard the click of the switch of the lava lamp on my nightstand, and the room was tinted with soft, reddish light.
I started to tremble, foreign emotions were running wild inside my heaving chest while I stared at the ceiling above me, not daring to look at Rachel.
I heard her giggle again, and the feeling of mortification doubled.
"You're quite the sight," she told me while she dug around in her half of the cupboard, "with your night clothes bunched around your feet and neck. Are those two fingers in your pussy?"
I gasped and started to pull my hand away.
"No, leave it like it is. You look delicious like this." Her voice was sharp, commanding, and I followed her order without a second thought. I consciously knew that this was wrong, and the term 'delicious' shouldn't be used by my roommate, not to describe me with two fingers stuck up my sex, but that short role play had me feel meek and pliable - and loving it. Rachel had, of course, seen me naked before, we had communal showers at the gym, after all. But this was completely different.
"And keep your other arm above your head like this."
That made me aware that I hadn't moved my other arm an inch after she had let go. I'd been blushing before, but now the heat was racing over my cheeks and down my cleavage in waves.
"Tadaa! There it is!" Rachel exclaimed and skipped back across the room, holding up an old Polaroid camera like a trophy. Then she was balancing at the corner of the bed and pointing the camera at me, and I suddenly started to doubt the whole thing again.
"Rachel! Please, don't!"
"Oh come on, don't be a chicken now. I promise you it will work." And then, like a death blow, she added the one thing she know I was helpless against. "Think of Jacob, he'll come in his pants once he sees the pictures. Come on, imagine your fingers are Jacob's. Show him your desire!"
That did it. I closed my eyes again, suddenly the fingers weren't my own anymore and I imagined how he would touch me, without hesitation, how he'd plunge his thick fingers into my wet pussy.
"Do it hard, shove them in!"
I moaned and immediately followed my request by pushing my fingers as hard as I could into my pussy. "Yes!" I exclaimed and repeated the motion, faster and faster. Once more I was nearing my orgasm, and I didn't even realize I was staring into the camera, and I didn't hear the clicking and whirring while Rachel was shooting pictures. My thighs started to tremble, and any moment now I was going to topple over the edge.
"Stop!" Rachel's command drew me out of my bliss, and I followed her order, albeit hesitantly. I was gasping for breath and perspiring like I had run a marathon.
"Please!" I moaned. It was the second time that I had been pulled from the edge of the cliff, and my need was running havoc in my sex.
"We still have to do the important part," Rachel reminded me, and with dread I realized that she was right. For our hare-brained scheme to work, we'd have to give the plausible impression of lesbian sex. Rachel had laid it all out to me, and it had sounded easy, just a bit of make-believe, toying with the camera angle to give the impression of body contact. Still, once those shots were done, the only thing left was to make sure Jacob got into possession of the photos.
While I was thinking about that, my roommate had jumped down from the bed and moved her swivel chair into the center of the room. She had set the camera down on it and was just pulling her pink nightie over her head. I noticed for the first time how small and perky her breasts were. Her nipples were tiny buds, reminding me of over-ripe red currants.
Then she picked up the camera again and sat down on the edge of the chair. Her index finger motioned me over to her. Like in a trance, I rolled out of bed and slowly shuffled the few steps until I was standing in front of her.
"Kneel," she whispered softly, and I did.
"Spread your legs. Wide." I took a deep breath and followed that command as well.
Looking up, I saw a smile play over her slightly parted lips, and a strange glint in her eyes. For a moment I had the idea she might have the hots for me, but I immediately let go of the silly notion. I'd have noticed that in the years we'd been rooming together.
She leaned forward, and with the chair on its lowest settings, her breasts were right in front of my nose. I could smell the soft, clean aroma of body lotion on her skin, mixed with a hint of lemony perfume. "Pretend to suck on one of my nipples."
A bit hesitantly, I bent my neck and brought my mouth close to her left breast. This felt kinky, forbidden. The Polaroid whirred again, and I waited with bated breath for the picture to develop.
"That won't do." I perked up, staring at Rachel, who threw the photo across the room and looked down at me with a sigh. "I don't think pretending will do in this case." She declared, and I almost choked on my spittle.
"You don't mean..."
"Of course I do!" Her voice was suddenly a bit angry, and I felt at a loss.
"But, Rachel..."
"You're aware that I'm doing all this for you, aren't you? I'd not let just any girl
touch my tit with her mouth." Her voice became softer. "You're my best friend, and I want to see you happy."
I gulped. And felt guilty. She was right, however mad the plan she had cooked up was, it was to get me into Jacob's pants. Or him into mine.
"I'm sorry," I whispered and lowered my eyes to the floor.
"Hey, it's okay." Her index finger lifted my chin up, and I felt a sudden bout of gratitude. "You know what to do."
And I did. She leaned forward again, and I closed my lips around her nipple. It felt strange, so soft and firm at the same time. I could feel the small bumps and ridges of her otherwise silky skin against my lips. She tasted like she smelt, clean, smooth, lemony.
"Look up at me," she guided me, "then suck on it and run your tongue over it. It has to look natural."
