by Lexie X
"Sure thing." Despite their ruse in front of their roommate, Isabella joined her arm-in-arm and walked out with her like it was no big deal.
Piper didn't look, but she felt certain Maisy was staring at their backs as they departed. She wasn't sure if Isabella had decided not to keep their relationship a secret anymore, but the whole thing had gone on far too long, and it would definitely be a mess if the truth came out. And worse, Maisy or Savannah might run into their neighbor Sheenan at any time, and the redhead might accidentally refer to them as together.
She tried not to think about it. It would only drive her crazy if she kept worrying.
Still, she felt preoccupied during dinner. Isabella took up her conversational slack and kept the family laughing and talking. She really was an amazing girl.
And everything was going to be fine, right?
She did her best to enjoy her family's presence while she could.
After the meal, she stood outside the restaurant with her mother, ostensibly waiting for Frank to pay and round up the troops.
"Piper?"
"Yeah, mom?"
Angela looked back through the windows of the establishment, making sure the family was still inside. "I didn't know when I'd be able to catch you, but I have a present for you. Nobody else can know about it, alright?"
"Sure. What is it?"
Her mother reached into her jacket pocket and handed her a small box.
Opening it slowly, she fought down a gasp. Inside sat a diamond-encrusted round brilliant-cut engagement ring with a band of white gold. "It's beautiful! But… how… why?"
"My grandfather gave it to my grandmother, and then my father gave it to your grandmother, and she gave it to Frank to give to me," Angela told her quietly. "And now it's yours, to give to someone in your life, if and when you make that choice."
"Mom…" Yet again, she found herself fighting tears, but, this time, they were tears of happiness and warmth. Here she'd been preoccupied with relationship confusion, and her mother had been just waiting to blindside her with this incredible surprise. "Mom, this is amazing!"
"Isn't it? I have appraisal stuff with me, too, and a certificate you can have. It's worth like five thousand dollars."
"Five thousand dollars?!"
"It's not the most expensive ring in the world, but it's a beautiful family heirloom, and it means a lot, so make sure to take care of it. I kept it in a safe at our house. Maybe you should get a safety deposit box at a bank."
Nodding repeatedly, Piper just stared at the ring inside the little box. She'd just been thinking about her future. How had her mother known?
"Mothers always know, dear," Angela laughed, after studying her expression and the obvious thoughts crossing her features.
And she didn't even have to ask if the marriage proposal this ring might be a part of would be alright with her mother. Although neither of her parents had ever directly used the L word, she already knew the answer. They adored Isabella, and they loved their daughter very much, and the elephant in the room didn't matter.
She turned away from her approaching family to hide her happy tears. Quickly drying her face, she hid the ring in her clenched hand. There was no way she was entrusting it to a pocket.
Floating through the drive home, she said goodbye to her family in a dreamy daze, took the box of ring-related materials her mother surreptitiously handed her, and then watched them drive off with a beaming smile.
She couldn't help it. It was still in her hand, the ability to turn to the girl she loved more than anything in the world and make it real; the very thought sent shocks through her body. Not that now was the right time, but—was it? Why not?
But Isabella had already gone back inside.
A little confused, Piper went to her own room, stashed the ring and the box, and ditched her jacket. Nonchalantly walking past Maisy, who still sat reading in the living room, she moved down the opposite hallway and knocked lightly on Isabella's door.
The blonde swung it open and regarded her with cold eyes. "Can I help you?"
Almost immediately, Piper knew what she was doing: the vacation was over, and the pain and distance was back. The main problem hadn't been solved. "No."
That answer—and its grimness—actually surprised Isabella. "What?"
"You're not doing this," Piper whispered flatly, a dark and infinitely heavy weight suddenly crushing her heart. "Don't take back last night."
The haughty and distant blonde looked her up and down. "I've really got to get ready to go out. I'm meeting the girls soon."
"Don't fucking do this," Piper said quietly, the pain in her chest sharpening.
"Have a good night," Isabella said, her tone callous. The door closed a moment later.
Wandering back to her room in a daze, Piper sat on her bed and stared at herself in the mirrored closet doors. Her gaze remained hollow, and her outward sight remained focused on her own face only just enough to remind herself that she existed and was a person with needs and wants. That other her seemed just as depressed as she was, but the other her was just a reflection, and, like all reflections, it sat awaiting her lead.
Here she was, thinking all sorts of crazy thoughts about proposing and being in love and so happy, but the tumultuous blonde had gone from sixty to zero faster than a blink. How much could one person be expected to take?
And how stupid could one person be? On the one hand, there was this amazing, strong, and quiet girl who was also a lesbian and who loved her unconditionally, and, on the other, an unreadable rollercoaster straight blonde who reveled in torture and pain.
Feeling floaty and sick, she spoke to her image. "Oh my God. I have to break up with Isabella."
She bent forward, held her head in her hands, and began to cry.
***
Chapter 6
She sat in the shower and let the water fall endlessly on her outstretched legs. Isabella was out on the town with the girls and probably getting trashed. Had nothing they'd found together in the last two days mattered? What issue was so painful that Isabella had to go right back to brutally ignoring her?
Or did the sadistic blonde even care about her at all? At times like this, everything she thought she knew seemed to turn inside out. Now the phrase I like lesbian sex repeated over and over in her head, not reassuring her, but making her terrified. Was Isabella out there right now finding some other girl to take home? Would she really have the cruel audacity to bring a strange drunk girl back here?
She did have that kind of cruel audacity. In fact, Isabella would probably rub her face in it—or, worse, make her come in and pleasure the two of them. Pressing her thighs together tightly, she fought against a rising heat between her legs.
"Fuck!" she shouted at the water streaming around her, wishing it could hear her and help her, but it couldn't, nor could anyone else. If Isabella ordered her to service her and another girl, she would hate it and feel humiliated, broken, and horrible—but she would do it. She knew that about herself.
She would do it, and she would love it, even as she hated herself for doing it.
She twisted a little to the side, trying to resist the urge to touch herself. She could envision Isabella out there on the dance floor, drinking to excess but retaining control, and then using that control to single out a potential victim. She'd choose a straight girl for sure, and probably even one with a boyfriend.
Then Isabella would dance with her half the night, showering her with attention and drinks as a new friend, while slowly dancing closer and closer, until it was last call and they were grinding against one another, practically humping, and, then, before the lights came on, Isabella would make her move. It would be something simple, something presented as easy and fun, and possibly even surprising, like "Wouldn't it be crazy if we went home together?"… implying that she had never done it either.
And, given Isabella's irresistible charm, who could say no?
Breathless, her heart racing, that girl would give in. She wouldn't
be exactly certain what was about to happen, but, after all that alcohol and close grinding with Isabella, her body's needs would be in the driver's seat. All her body would know was that warmth, wetness, and orgasm were that way, and it was going to follow.
Were they walking back, or taking a taxi? Isabella would choose the shortest possible way home, and she would try to keep the girl primed the whole way with laughter, and touching, and—
Was Isabella kissing someone, even now?
Despite herself, Piper slid a hand down and began relieving her intense aching need. The more humiliating and painful her worries became, the more it aroused her. She could almost see Isabella making out with that girl during the taxi ride home and maybe even rubbing her over her panties—not enough to scare her off, but enough to keep her willing.
How would she do it once she got here? She couldn't just call in her girlfriend and have her watch; the drunk girl from the bar would instantly wuss out.
Perhaps she'd film it, like she'd had Julie film their recent encounter. She'd leave her phone or her laptop positioned well and record the whole thing in secret so that she could make her girlfriend watch it later.
Slipping a finger inside herself, Piper rubbed harder and began gently thrusting against her own hand.
That poor drunk girl would have no idea she was entering the spider's lair. Isabella would say things like "I can't believe we're doing this," and "I'm so drunk right now, I probably won't even remember this in the morning…" And the girl would laugh and agree with the excuses and slowly sink into the making out, because it felt just like a guy but softer and closer, and the hands massaging her breasts over the clothes felt just like a guy's except a little smaller, and let's just get those clothes out of the way so it'll feel better, and who hasn't seen breasts before, it's no big deal, except, Christ, this girl's tits are perfect and it's not fair at all, but I guess it's not so unjust because I get to play with them—
And the warmth and skin contact and intimacy and making out would inevitably arouse her enough for her to realize she was turned on by and with a girl, and the amazement and newness and taboo and confusion would leave her perfectly pliable.
Isabella would have her licking pussy in no time.
It really didn't matter who it was, either. A nerdy girl, a sporty girl, a popular sorority type; Isabella could play them all with expert ease.
Panting, Piper put her whole arm into masturbating as the pleasure began filling her body. Why just one girl? Isabella could seduce them all, one each night. She'd have that nerdy girl between her legs Friday, the sporty girl on her knees Saturday, the sorority girl after an event on Tuesday.
As the crushing humiliation intensified, so did her orgasm. She imagined Isabella seducing all of these women and flaunting it in front of her, and that only turned her on to incredible extremes. If all she got were videos of the seductions after the fact for the sole purpose of torturing her, that would still be enough to keep her hanging on.
Bucking and moaning, she fucked her own hand as hard as she could.
Emotionally, the thought hurt like hell, but she brought the fantasy around her to supercharge her ecstasy. Maybe Isabella had coaxed and gamed and trained her into being a lesbian, and maybe the blonde was leaving her in the lurch like she'd always promised: craving pussy, needing to service girls, and desperate to submit. Maybe Isabella was going to seduce girls and torture her with the videos, and, even after all that, the domineering blonde would still show up in her room late at night, climb above her, and sit on her face.
She would do it—humiliated, furious, and crushed—and she would love it.
Keeping that utterly painful fantasy close, she masturbated through orgasm after orgasm. The sharper the humiliation, the higher she went, until her body felt like one giant raw nerve pulsing bliss. Maybe Isabella had completely dominated and subverted her sexual life into that of a lesbian submissive, but she couldn't imagine any more painfully arousing fate. Reaching her absolute limit, every muscle in her body seized. It was all she could do to grit her teeth to keep from screaming, and white fire flooded her head as her every extremity tingled with electricity.
She fell to sitting again in the shower and tried to catch her breath.
What time was it? Could some unknown drunk girl be licking pussy for the first time on the other side of the apartment right now? She had to know, even though she wasn't certain whether she would flip out or get on her knees and offer to pleasure both her girlfriend and her drunken hookup.
"Goddamnit," she breathed, hooked by sudden warmth into masturbating again. The thought of having two wet slits to tongue and finger was simply irresistible.
She didn't manage to actually escape the shower until two more orgasms had come and gone, yet her body was still charged up beyond handling. A pulsing heart of arousal seemed to throb in her head and between her legs, urging her toward darker and darker self-torturing thoughts.
For the first time in a very long time, she felt completely in touch with herself again. It'd taken the blackest despair to remember her own uncommon core.
Certain in what she had to do, she went to her room, dressed, found her phone, and texted Isabella a simple message she knew the blonde could never resist: "I want you to humiliate me tonight."
The response came almost immediately. "You can't handle what you're asking for."
"I can," she wrote back.
"It's going to be bad."
She gulped. "I know. Bring someone home. Do your worst."
No further reply came.
Sitting around her room, then lounging in the living room, then checking the fridge, Piper wandered restlessly through the apartment like an addict awaiting a chance for a hit. Her body ran hot; her every fiber craved humiliation and joy. And, yet, Isabella could be downright evil. Had her request been too much? Would things go too far? She was just about to give up and go masturbate again when she heard a key at the door. Her heart leapt into her throat—it was actually happening.
That same lump in her throat turned into a sinking feeling down her chest as she saw who Isabella had brought home.
It was a guy.
"Oh, hey there, Piper," Isabella said, eyeing her reaction. "This here's Tony."
"Chris, actually," he said drunkenly.
"This here's Chris, then."
Don't you do this, Piper thought fiercely. Don't you fucking do this.
Isabella only smirked at her. "Say, Piper, would you like to have a beer with us?"
"Sure," she replied flatly, her emotions in chaos.
"Great, be a dear and bring them in when you're done opening them." Isabella proceeded to drag her drunk guy down the hall and into her room.
Alive with fury and hurt and a dozen other kinds of conflicting energies, Piper slowly grabbed three beers out of the fridge and popped their tops without really looking. Her thoughts raced. Was this fucking guy going to touch her Isabella? Was she going to… god… the thought made her clench her fists with rage and humiliation. Heart pounding, she brought the three beers into her girlfriend's room, terrified of what she was about to find.
Within, Isabella sat on the bed—just talking.
Momentarily relieved, Piper handed out two of the drinks.
"Close the door," Isabella ordered.
After a nod and a sip of her beer, Piper closed the door. She turned back to find Chris visibly confused.
"Oh, you're hanging out with us?"
Isabella smiled. "Chris, honey, there's really no need for games with a guy, is there?"
"Games?" he asked, and Piper realized he was just as much a victim of Isabella's machinations as she was. In some small way, that made her feel a little better.
"You'd like to have a threesome, wouldn't you?" Isabella offered.
He looked at them both in surprise. "Um, yeah, I—"
"Good. Because we're going to do absolutely anything you say."
Piper narrowed her eyes. What was she doing, giving up control like that
? Unless she already knew exactly how his choices would go. After all, there was only so many ways this could happen.
"What, really?" he asked, looking over in askance.
Finding him asking her instead of Isabella, Piper momentarily froze. She absolutely did not want this to happen, but she was sure Isabella was testing her. "Yes."
He gave a nervous little laugh. "Sure this isn't a trick or something?"
Isabella shook her head. "We're not tricking you, Chris. Piper and I are going to do anything you tell us to do." She paused. "What would you like to see?"
Ah, there it was. Little words, like see, would direct his nervous answers. Piper could almost hear the words before he said them.
"Um… get naked?" he asked, playing it off with a confused laugh in case he was overreaching.
"Be specific," Isabella told him. "Don't waste this opportunity."
He absorbed her seriousness, and then looked over. "Um, you… Piper… take off her shirt?"
Feeling like her every nerve was on fire with squeezing pain, Piper nodded lightly, put her beer down on a nightstand, and moved toward her girlfriend. Her fingers found the bottom of the blonde's tight shirt and lifted it up and off.
"Holy crap," Chris said. "What's, um… what's off limits?"
Isabella raised one eyebrow. "Nothing."
He took a deep breath. "Ok. Have you two, like, done anything before… together?"
Piper looked to her girlfriend.
Isabella shook her head. "No."
"Then how did you end up doing this whole thing?"
"A drunken bet," the confident and calm blonde told him. "Now tell us what you want us to do."
He steeled himself for a refusal. "Kiss?"
Isabella shrugged and reached out.
Finding herself grabbed and pulled forward, Piper half-kneeled to match her girlfriend's sitting height. Their lips met, but only briefly.
Isabella pulled away, noting his obvious disappointment. "Be more specific."
"Fine," he said. "Make out."
"That's better."
Pulled forward again, Piper fell to a sitting position on the bed next to her girlfriend just in time to react to a deeper kiss. This wasn't so bad, but she very much feared what was coming.
