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~A fictional story of alternative eroticism~
Meh, so I haven't written anything sexually based in a while. Nor have I shared anything here in a while because the lethargy of the community is depressing yet warranted.
For the curious, the girlfriend still does this for me on occasion. She does now suffer a bad case of IBS from life stresses and I don't find it fair to exploit her illness or make her uncomfortable. So there's that.
Also, something weird, I ended up finding out I'm transgendered. Funny, huh? Well it wasn't at first...shit, I lost my mind and destroyed my life for a bit. But now that I'm not suicidal it's funny I guess. Shaving in a skirt...that's basically its own punch line!
Name's Molly, by the way. One of the only escapes I really get with it is the wonders of the rainbow that is imagination. So I wrote this.
I don't really care that much if anyone chooses to bitch that I'm a tranny. Whatever. That bothers some people, I get it. It bothers me too.
But so fucking help me god if I get further complaints that the writing it too wordy, drawn out, or metaphorical. That seems to happen every time no matter how much I dumb it down.
To anyone who chooses to bitch about that, there's a book you should check out called Learn To Fucking Read. Kill yourself with it.
Peace!
Molly’s eyes shot open to greet the morning light the same it greeted her. Panic was all too real in her gut, and she could feel it translate from body to mind as her breathing deepened and her brow wrinkled hard. Her belly churned and twisted followed in short by her limbs as she whimpered and squirmed, hoping some imagined bystander could cure this moment of agony.
Where am I?
The bed.
Where’s Balm?
No idea.
What did I do last night?
Drink.
Why am I wearing jeans…and shoes?
The drinking.
How long has it been since I’ve ‘gone’?
Oh fuck…
Scattered memories fell into her head like scarce confetti from above as a party died…and for her, it indeed had. In her hung-over mind she could still read the writing on those paper fragments…constipation…frustration…black out…laxatives. Brilliance was not listed.
The pieces in place, she was now able to connect some of the previous night’s fog and link it to the fetal position she had claimed for herself today. The puzzle assembled was not pretty. Groaning as if in impression of her stomach, she slowly hitched one foot past the edge of the bed and the other. Their access to the floor seemed surreal, more as if her aching insides themselves were the ones strolling against the carpet. A hazardous stagger ensued, objects pushed aside by the one hand not pressing the shirt to her belly.
Surroundings passed by barely ajar eyelids, balance restored here and there as a hand periodically slapped to surfaces and propelled her to the bathroom. Denial was always strong in her, and although the sound of the shower was clear and blatant, she still flung her way through the threshold and stood before the emperor’s throne the toilet had become.
“Oh, you survived,” said a voice from beneath a spray of water and steam.
“I need the bathroom,” Molly mumbled past a twisting tongue.
“Well you’re in the right place,”
“I need it to myself. Please, I can’t wait!”
“Just give me five…”
“I DON’T HAVE FIVE MINUTES! Please, you know I can’t go around people!” She pleaded, her desperation the one thing thicker than the volume of steam.
“Just hang on a damned minute! Fuck! I’m lathered and bothered here, this is my house too,” Balm spat, empathy retreating if only for the moment.
“Come on, please…I’m sorry. I took some things last night. I don’t remember how many…it hurts!”
Molly’s anxiety had bled into pressured speech as she doppled over in pain. Her winced eyes matched a winced posture as her eyes welled up and quiet whimpering kept the background. Her strength was gone from all abilities, whether it be to extract the belt, lower skin tight jeans, or even hold herself upright. She hunched against the wall in agony for a time longer than she could have counted, her head shooting upright again as the faucet squeaked closed and the shower curtain was dragged open before her. Balm stood glistening in the tub, ‘that look’ on her face with one hand to her hip.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have drank so much,” She said so matter-of-factly.
“Maybe that doesn’t matter right now,” said a quiet frog-like voice.
“You were too drunk to fuck. Obviously you were too drunk to even undress. I’m pissed…what should make me feel anything for you right now?” growled Balm’s emotions.
“Your…soul?” said a groan.
“You look pretty funny right now, ya know,”
An elevated tone and a smirk broke through with the statement.
“Please…I’m sorry. Just let me have this room. And then we can talk,”
Balm was quiet for a moment until a poorly silenced chuckle.
“Nope,”
“But…I don’t…want to…”
Molly was cut short as her stomach finished the sentence with a long and dramatic groan followed shortly by her unintended impression of it.
“I’m still horny,” said Balm.
“And I think I like this,” She smiled.
“I don’t,” Molly seemed to whisper.
“…I don’t,”
Balm was no longer in any position to care. Most of her attention had centered just how easily her fingers slid her own pubic stubble in the slowly drying moisture of the ended shower…and the new moisture these motions were creating. She licked and then lightly bit her lips in a curling smile.
Molly knew but still couldn’t accept her now sealed fate. Balm couldn’t seem to care at all, nor did she seem to have any desire beyond her own physical pleasure at the scene in front of her. Her eyes rolling upward, Molly lifted her head in a seeming silent ‘oh brother’ gesture, and pulled herself from the wall as her posture curled upright again and her legs shook in mirrored form. She pulled in a deep shuddering sigh. Balm’s smile grew.
The slurping sounds at Balm’s crotch were suddenly irrelevant as a loud GLORP sounded, short lived to the oncoming sloppy sputtering now in Molly’s rear. She whined and shot fully upright, all muscles released as a violent surge of porridge-like warmth filled her backside and worked its way through her shivering thighs. She simply stood wide-eyed as she wetly filled her jeans, occasional sounds of muffled gas gurgling from the growing mess below.
It didn’t take long, it only felt to her as if it did. For such a vain girl, her favorite jeans were always the ones that took five or so minutes to put on…or take off. The ones that took nearly the exact form of her curves and the exact ones no one would want to wear for such a grotesque incident. The entire seat was filled to capacity and to such an extent that the mush had filled her crack until neither of her cute little cheeks could even touch one another with the heavy slithering pressure between. Her thighs almost seemed held open by slurry and mentally traveling upward from here was nothing short of emotionally painful.
Anything that could be called pubic was warm, sloppy, and jiggled with any and all movement. From the lowest labia to the heights of her mons pubis, everything was doomed and damned. Her clitoris was suffocated and even the surrounding hood was held open and filled as if by a bully pressing it captive for humiliation and torment. Every fold, every crevice, every…thing…was stuffed to the brink and all movement provided such tickle torture it made her wish she could freeze to stone. As if the exterior of this soup wasn’t hazardous enough she could feel it inside of her, and the involuntary clenching of her vaginal muscles could only force it out for a moment before releasing them caused it to slurp back in just so slightly. She wished to god she could control these inner spasms and stop the massage that, by any other object at all, would only be pleasant and erotic.
A short gurgle of gas churned up through her lap and shook the froth into her intimates, a wide blotch of brown dampness controlling what was once the triangle of her typically clean and carefully shaved crotch. The smell strangled the air of previous body wash and conditioner.
Balm tried to control her chuckling as she continued pleasantly fidgeting her hand into herself. Tears poured Molly’s face as her eyes widened in anger, an expression typically only found in a movie.
“FUCK YOU!! Yeah, this is REAL fuckin funny!! Hilarious, actually! There you are, all good and clean in the shower--IN MY FUCKING WAY--ACTually!! While here I am, here I am stewing in this shit everywhere!! How could you, I can’t even…I mean, this…THIS!! I just, I don’t…I, I jus…argh, FUCK!!! FUCK!!! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKIN…AAAUUGGGHHHH!!!!!!”
Molly’s screaming degenerated out of any control and, had she been in a more rational state, could have saved her a great amount of slithering in her clothes could she have just calmed down.
“Get your FUCKIN hand away from yourself, bitch!! Fucking doing that while I’m here with my shit smothered cooch!!”
The last hysterical sentence seemed to force feed some reality and from here she could only cry, hands to her face as closed eyes faced the floor and sent their tears. Balm, stepping from the bath and still soaked, put a hand to her shoulder.
“I’m...sorry. Fuck…I…don’t know why I did that. I’m an asshole. I’m sorry. Just wait, it’s okay. I’ll get you some clothes. Just hang on,”
Molly didn’t seem to listen at all. She didn’t seem to be able to. She just stood there, terrified to move, sobbing into her hands in misery. The footsteps of her returning lover didn’t take long. Or seem to matter.
“Here, let me take a look,” said Balm’s sympathetic tone.
“Get away from me. I don’t want you to…” replied sadness.
Balm manually rotated the stinking girl to a side, who no longer seemed to protest the inevitable squishing between her thighs which so exaggerated the mushy warmth in front of and behind it as well. Balm had taken her hand…
…and slapped a cuff onto it. Before Molly could even utter a ‘fuck’, the other was met with the same gesture and Balm held the metal that joined them, her face close to Molly’s ear as each remained silent…one out of shock and one desiring suspense.
“I WANTED you to fuck me last night,”
“Now YOU’RE fucked,” She continued in a devil’s voice.
“How could…why are you…”
Molly could hardly seem to find her voice or any desire to fight.
“Oh please. You’re the one who told me you want me doing this kind of shit to you. Waaahhh, Balm, you never take control of me! Sob sob sob, wah wah wah…I want you to be my man, I want to be controlled, etcetera and bitch bitch bitch,”
“THIS ISN’T WHAT I MEANT,” A growl.
“Well it’s what you got,”
Molly, although she would never in her life find the words to describe the disgust for this, seemed to accept her position as submissive. And from here she would be guided into whatever came next. Balm lead her forward like a prisoner, the audible squelching between her thighs music to at least one pair of ears. Molly’s eyes remained wide above light panting as she felt the slop shift about her pelvis. Each time her thighs would glide past one another it would swirl the muck through her crotch, caressing her pussy in a way that somehow aroused and disgusted her at once. Granted it was the control turning her on, but if this situation weren’t so smelly, soft and sticky she would probably have been near orgasm with excitement. This wasn’t the case.
Balm looked down at her ass, an enormous brown blotch staining what was otherwise a perfect little bubble of a bottom. Released, Molly stood in place with legs closed tight, trembling as her own movement jiggled crap against the place she most wanted it removed.
“I’m not kidding, I really don’t want to do this!! Please, this is disgusting…and I don’t want a yeast infection! Please, I’m begging you…Balm…….I love you!” Molly pleaded, the crying starting again.
“Wah wah wah,” Balm mocked, a small camera grabbed from somewhere on the kitchen counter.
She began snapping shots here and there from a few sides and perspectives as Molly tried to spin fast enough to botch the artwork.
“I DON’T WANT EVIDENCE OF THIS!!”
“Shut up, no one is going to see. This is for me, for later,”
Molly remained still, weeping. A wooden chair was lifted from across the room and placed behind her, an anxious swallow following but no futile protest this time. Balm made a gesture like she was about to shove her back but than tauntingly stopped and simply said ‘sit,’
Frowning but no longer shedding the tears, Molly lowered herself and gave a loud ‘Yipe!’ as she felt the thick diarrhea fail to spread to new territory, but still easily pile up into her crotch where it seemed the only free space remained. She sat in sadness, listening to the frothing sounds at her lap as the mess slowly settled and cradled her vagina and rose as high as the belt. Balm, having ventured off, returned with a few other objects.
“I knew you wouldn’t try to leave,” She said, pleased that control was now understood.
“Well how could I,” replied Molly, sad eyes looking away from her.
An additional cuff, which apparently Balm owned too many of, was installed to the ones keeping her wrists together and now there was no way to leave the chair, additional bondage applied to her ankles and the legs of the chairs.
“Can you just promise you won’t leave me here too long? I’m just worried for my health,” Molly said, monotone and looking away.
“You’ll be god damned fine. I’ve shit myself before,” Balm retorted.
“Yeah, but did you…”
“On purpose and I masturbated it into myself and I cleaned up a pretty big while later. And by before I mean every now and then. Never had a problem,” She interrupted.
Molly seemed to set aside her worries for astonishment.
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah, actually. Heh…guess I was embarrassed to say anything before,”
She retrieved a vibrator, the ‘silver bullet’ type as its called, and held it in front of Molly for a moment.
“Ummmm…”
Balm ignored her nondescript response and instead unzipped the fly of the soiled jeans, the dark brown batter filled panties bulging up through the hole like a balloon. Pushing down on the glistening protrusion slightly, she activated the vibrating device and slid it into Molly’s crotch between the fabric of the jeans and panties. She didn’t want to ruin it forever, afterall. The fly, although it took several tries, was eventually closed and Molly could feel the mush shaking microscopically into her erogenous parts. At least now she might be able to enjoy this.
Returning from a quick hand washing, Balm grabbed a jacket and headed for the door.
“WAIT!!” Molly cried.
Balm gave her a chance and simply looked to her direction, the chair having conveniently been faced to the door.
“Where are you going!? Why are you leaving!?”
“Because fuck you,” Balm responded.
“But…”
“…and so help me god if you don’t get off at least once while I’m out. Don’t think you can fake it, I know exactly what you’re like after an orgasm. I know it pretty damned well,”
Molly hung her head in embarrassment, cheeks flushed pink at this kinky demand. But what else could she really do to kill time? If the vibration wasn’t enough…which who knows, it might be eventually…she could surely work her best at squirming her thighs to some kind of erotic ending. Or a few.
Molly finally smiled, somehow finding it in her to begin enjoying the predicament. Maybe it was knowing Balm had been in this position before, or maybe it was just the new juices flowing into the mess with the rapidly qualifying sex toy.
“I’ve gotta go again,” informed Molly.
“Why are you wasting your time telling me?”
“Well if you’re just leaving then I’ll keep it to myself…I have to have some aspect of control in this. When are you coming back?” She asked, finally an upbeat tone.
Both girls knew it would be a while. And only Balm knew what she would even be doing to her when she returned anyway.
Halfway out the door, Balm thought for a second.
“When fuck you,”
~Molly
Edit: Lulz, I need some serious therapy, no?
For the curious, the girlfriend still does this for me on occasion. She does now suffer a bad case of IBS from life stresses and I don't find it fair to exploit her illness or make her uncomfortable. So there's that.
Also, something weird, I ended up finding out I'm transgendered. Funny, huh? Well it wasn't at first...shit, I lost my mind and destroyed my life for a bit. But now that I'm not suicidal it's funny I guess. Shaving in a skirt...that's basically its own punch line!
Name's Molly, by the way. One of the only escapes I really get with it is the wonders of the rainbow that is imagination. So I wrote this.
I don't really care that much if anyone chooses to bitch that I'm a tranny. Whatever. That bothers some people, I get it. It bothers me too.
But so fucking help me god if I get further complaints that the writing it too wordy, drawn out, or metaphorical. That seems to happen every time no matter how much I dumb it down.
To anyone who chooses to bitch about that, there's a book you should check out called Learn To Fucking Read. Kill yourself with it.
Peace!
Molly’s eyes shot open to greet the morning light the same it greeted her. Panic was all too real in her gut, and she could feel it translate from body to mind as her breathing deepened and her brow wrinkled hard. Her belly churned and twisted followed in short by her limbs as she whimpered and squirmed, hoping some imagined bystander could cure this moment of agony.
Where am I?
The bed.
Where’s Balm?
No idea.
What did I do last night?
Drink.
Why am I wearing jeans…and shoes?
The drinking.
How long has it been since I’ve ‘gone’?
Oh fuck…
Scattered memories fell into her head like scarce confetti from above as a party died…and for her, it indeed had. In her hung-over mind she could still read the writing on those paper fragments…constipation…frustration…black out…laxatives. Brilliance was not listed.
The pieces in place, she was now able to connect some of the previous night’s fog and link it to the fetal position she had claimed for herself today. The puzzle assembled was not pretty. Groaning as if in impression of her stomach, she slowly hitched one foot past the edge of the bed and the other. Their access to the floor seemed surreal, more as if her aching insides themselves were the ones strolling against the carpet. A hazardous stagger ensued, objects pushed aside by the one hand not pressing the shirt to her belly.
Surroundings passed by barely ajar eyelids, balance restored here and there as a hand periodically slapped to surfaces and propelled her to the bathroom. Denial was always strong in her, and although the sound of the shower was clear and blatant, she still flung her way through the threshold and stood before the emperor’s throne the toilet had become.
“Oh, you survived,” said a voice from beneath a spray of water and steam.
“I need the bathroom,” Molly mumbled past a twisting tongue.
“Well you’re in the right place,”
“I need it to myself. Please, I can’t wait!”
“Just give me five…”
“I DON’T HAVE FIVE MINUTES! Please, you know I can’t go around people!” She pleaded, her desperation the one thing thicker than the volume of steam.
“Just hang on a damned minute! Fuck! I’m lathered and bothered here, this is my house too,” Balm spat, empathy retreating if only for the moment.
“Come on, please…I’m sorry. I took some things last night. I don’t remember how many…it hurts!”
Molly’s anxiety had bled into pressured speech as she doppled over in pain. Her winced eyes matched a winced posture as her eyes welled up and quiet whimpering kept the background. Her strength was gone from all abilities, whether it be to extract the belt, lower skin tight jeans, or even hold herself upright. She hunched against the wall in agony for a time longer than she could have counted, her head shooting upright again as the faucet squeaked closed and the shower curtain was dragged open before her. Balm stood glistening in the tub, ‘that look’ on her face with one hand to her hip.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have drank so much,” She said so matter-of-factly.
“Maybe that doesn’t matter right now,” said a quiet frog-like voice.
“You were too drunk to fuck. Obviously you were too drunk to even undress. I’m pissed…what should make me feel anything for you right now?” growled Balm’s emotions.
“Your…soul?” said a groan.
“You look pretty funny right now, ya know,”
An elevated tone and a smirk broke through with the statement.
“Please…I’m sorry. Just let me have this room. And then we can talk,”
Balm was quiet for a moment until a poorly silenced chuckle.
“Nope,”
“But…I don’t…want to…”
Molly was cut short as her stomach finished the sentence with a long and dramatic groan followed shortly by her unintended impression of it.
“I’m still horny,” said Balm.
“And I think I like this,” She smiled.
“I don’t,” Molly seemed to whisper.
“…I don’t,”
Balm was no longer in any position to care. Most of her attention had centered just how easily her fingers slid her own pubic stubble in the slowly drying moisture of the ended shower…and the new moisture these motions were creating. She licked and then lightly bit her lips in a curling smile.
Molly knew but still couldn’t accept her now sealed fate. Balm couldn’t seem to care at all, nor did she seem to have any desire beyond her own physical pleasure at the scene in front of her. Her eyes rolling upward, Molly lifted her head in a seeming silent ‘oh brother’ gesture, and pulled herself from the wall as her posture curled upright again and her legs shook in mirrored form. She pulled in a deep shuddering sigh. Balm’s smile grew.
The slurping sounds at Balm’s crotch were suddenly irrelevant as a loud GLORP sounded, short lived to the oncoming sloppy sputtering now in Molly’s rear. She whined and shot fully upright, all muscles released as a violent surge of porridge-like warmth filled her backside and worked its way through her shivering thighs. She simply stood wide-eyed as she wetly filled her jeans, occasional sounds of muffled gas gurgling from the growing mess below.
It didn’t take long, it only felt to her as if it did. For such a vain girl, her favorite jeans were always the ones that took five or so minutes to put on…or take off. The ones that took nearly the exact form of her curves and the exact ones no one would want to wear for such a grotesque incident. The entire seat was filled to capacity and to such an extent that the mush had filled her crack until neither of her cute little cheeks could even touch one another with the heavy slithering pressure between. Her thighs almost seemed held open by slurry and mentally traveling upward from here was nothing short of emotionally painful.
Anything that could be called pubic was warm, sloppy, and jiggled with any and all movement. From the lowest labia to the heights of her mons pubis, everything was doomed and damned. Her clitoris was suffocated and even the surrounding hood was held open and filled as if by a bully pressing it captive for humiliation and torment. Every fold, every crevice, every…thing…was stuffed to the brink and all movement provided such tickle torture it made her wish she could freeze to stone. As if the exterior of this soup wasn’t hazardous enough she could feel it inside of her, and the involuntary clenching of her vaginal muscles could only force it out for a moment before releasing them caused it to slurp back in just so slightly. She wished to god she could control these inner spasms and stop the massage that, by any other object at all, would only be pleasant and erotic.
A short gurgle of gas churned up through her lap and shook the froth into her intimates, a wide blotch of brown dampness controlling what was once the triangle of her typically clean and carefully shaved crotch. The smell strangled the air of previous body wash and conditioner.
Balm tried to control her chuckling as she continued pleasantly fidgeting her hand into herself. Tears poured Molly’s face as her eyes widened in anger, an expression typically only found in a movie.
“FUCK YOU!! Yeah, this is REAL fuckin funny!! Hilarious, actually! There you are, all good and clean in the shower--IN MY FUCKING WAY--ACTually!! While here I am, here I am stewing in this shit everywhere!! How could you, I can’t even…I mean, this…THIS!! I just, I don’t…I, I jus…argh, FUCK!!! FUCK!!! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKIN…AAAUUGGGHHHH!!!!!!”
Molly’s screaming degenerated out of any control and, had she been in a more rational state, could have saved her a great amount of slithering in her clothes could she have just calmed down.
“Get your FUCKIN hand away from yourself, bitch!! Fucking doing that while I’m here with my shit smothered cooch!!”
The last hysterical sentence seemed to force feed some reality and from here she could only cry, hands to her face as closed eyes faced the floor and sent their tears. Balm, stepping from the bath and still soaked, put a hand to her shoulder.
“I’m...sorry. Fuck…I…don’t know why I did that. I’m an asshole. I’m sorry. Just wait, it’s okay. I’ll get you some clothes. Just hang on,”
Molly didn’t seem to listen at all. She didn’t seem to be able to. She just stood there, terrified to move, sobbing into her hands in misery. The footsteps of her returning lover didn’t take long. Or seem to matter.
“Here, let me take a look,” said Balm’s sympathetic tone.
“Get away from me. I don’t want you to…” replied sadness.
Balm manually rotated the stinking girl to a side, who no longer seemed to protest the inevitable squishing between her thighs which so exaggerated the mushy warmth in front of and behind it as well. Balm had taken her hand…
…and slapped a cuff onto it. Before Molly could even utter a ‘fuck’, the other was met with the same gesture and Balm held the metal that joined them, her face close to Molly’s ear as each remained silent…one out of shock and one desiring suspense.
“I WANTED you to fuck me last night,”
“Now YOU’RE fucked,” She continued in a devil’s voice.
“How could…why are you…”
Molly could hardly seem to find her voice or any desire to fight.
“Oh please. You’re the one who told me you want me doing this kind of shit to you. Waaahhh, Balm, you never take control of me! Sob sob sob, wah wah wah…I want you to be my man, I want to be controlled, etcetera and bitch bitch bitch,”
“THIS ISN’T WHAT I MEANT,” A growl.
“Well it’s what you got,”
Molly, although she would never in her life find the words to describe the disgust for this, seemed to accept her position as submissive. And from here she would be guided into whatever came next. Balm lead her forward like a prisoner, the audible squelching between her thighs music to at least one pair of ears. Molly’s eyes remained wide above light panting as she felt the slop shift about her pelvis. Each time her thighs would glide past one another it would swirl the muck through her crotch, caressing her pussy in a way that somehow aroused and disgusted her at once. Granted it was the control turning her on, but if this situation weren’t so smelly, soft and sticky she would probably have been near orgasm with excitement. This wasn’t the case.
Balm looked down at her ass, an enormous brown blotch staining what was otherwise a perfect little bubble of a bottom. Released, Molly stood in place with legs closed tight, trembling as her own movement jiggled crap against the place she most wanted it removed.
“I’m not kidding, I really don’t want to do this!! Please, this is disgusting…and I don’t want a yeast infection! Please, I’m begging you…Balm…….I love you!” Molly pleaded, the crying starting again.
“Wah wah wah,” Balm mocked, a small camera grabbed from somewhere on the kitchen counter.
She began snapping shots here and there from a few sides and perspectives as Molly tried to spin fast enough to botch the artwork.
“I DON’T WANT EVIDENCE OF THIS!!”
“Shut up, no one is going to see. This is for me, for later,”
Molly remained still, weeping. A wooden chair was lifted from across the room and placed behind her, an anxious swallow following but no futile protest this time. Balm made a gesture like she was about to shove her back but than tauntingly stopped and simply said ‘sit,’
Frowning but no longer shedding the tears, Molly lowered herself and gave a loud ‘Yipe!’ as she felt the thick diarrhea fail to spread to new territory, but still easily pile up into her crotch where it seemed the only free space remained. She sat in sadness, listening to the frothing sounds at her lap as the mess slowly settled and cradled her vagina and rose as high as the belt. Balm, having ventured off, returned with a few other objects.
“I knew you wouldn’t try to leave,” She said, pleased that control was now understood.
“Well how could I,” replied Molly, sad eyes looking away from her.
An additional cuff, which apparently Balm owned too many of, was installed to the ones keeping her wrists together and now there was no way to leave the chair, additional bondage applied to her ankles and the legs of the chairs.
“Can you just promise you won’t leave me here too long? I’m just worried for my health,” Molly said, monotone and looking away.
“You’ll be god damned fine. I’ve shit myself before,” Balm retorted.
“Yeah, but did you…”
“On purpose and I masturbated it into myself and I cleaned up a pretty big while later. And by before I mean every now and then. Never had a problem,” She interrupted.
Molly seemed to set aside her worries for astonishment.
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah, actually. Heh…guess I was embarrassed to say anything before,”
She retrieved a vibrator, the ‘silver bullet’ type as its called, and held it in front of Molly for a moment.
“Ummmm…”
Balm ignored her nondescript response and instead unzipped the fly of the soiled jeans, the dark brown batter filled panties bulging up through the hole like a balloon. Pushing down on the glistening protrusion slightly, she activated the vibrating device and slid it into Molly’s crotch between the fabric of the jeans and panties. She didn’t want to ruin it forever, afterall. The fly, although it took several tries, was eventually closed and Molly could feel the mush shaking microscopically into her erogenous parts. At least now she might be able to enjoy this.
Returning from a quick hand washing, Balm grabbed a jacket and headed for the door.
“WAIT!!” Molly cried.
Balm gave her a chance and simply looked to her direction, the chair having conveniently been faced to the door.
“Where are you going!? Why are you leaving!?”
“Because fuck you,” Balm responded.
“But…”
“…and so help me god if you don’t get off at least once while I’m out. Don’t think you can fake it, I know exactly what you’re like after an orgasm. I know it pretty damned well,”
Molly hung her head in embarrassment, cheeks flushed pink at this kinky demand. But what else could she really do to kill time? If the vibration wasn’t enough…which who knows, it might be eventually…she could surely work her best at squirming her thighs to some kind of erotic ending. Or a few.
Molly finally smiled, somehow finding it in her to begin enjoying the predicament. Maybe it was knowing Balm had been in this position before, or maybe it was just the new juices flowing into the mess with the rapidly qualifying sex toy.
“I’ve gotta go again,” informed Molly.
“Why are you wasting your time telling me?”
“Well if you’re just leaving then I’ll keep it to myself…I have to have some aspect of control in this. When are you coming back?” She asked, finally an upbeat tone.
Both girls knew it would be a while. And only Balm knew what she would even be doing to her when she returned anyway.
Halfway out the door, Balm thought for a second.
“When fuck you,”
~Molly
Edit: Lulz, I need some serious therapy, no?
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