Curious Girls Ch. 33

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Sara reluctantly settles into her new life.
5.2k words
4.44
28.9k
15

Part 24 of the 31 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 06/28/2014
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"Hot damn, that feels nice," Tamara exclaimed.

Hot water cascaded down her silky skin-much of it diverting away from my face. However, it's hardly an improvement. Instead of being blinded and suffocated by falling water, I am instead forced to suffer the same while having my face compressed under Tamara's soft, voluminous buttocks.

The deluge of shower water is intensely disorienting. It's bad enough I can't breathe with my nose wedged tightly against Tamara's anus. But even when she sits up, the water still pours down her ass and streams into my face. And regardless of Tamara's sitting posture, the water continually flows into my ears making everything muffled and disorienting.

Tamara's riding crop echoes dully as it collides sharpy with my breast, the leather keeper striking my nipple.

"Fucking A. That feels really nice." The way she emphasizes the word "really" makes me queasy.

I squeal in pain, struggling fervently to pull away.

My cries are swallowed by Tamara's wet pussy, further drowned out by the sound of the shower water hitting ceramic and skin. Whether her pussy is wet from the shower water or from her natural lubrication, it's impossible to say with any certainty. However, I feel confident from past experience assuming that it's a healthy mix of both. Hell, she got so wet I wouldn't be surprised to learn shower water was the lesser of the two liquids dripping from her vulva.

Despite the fact there's no way to escape her torment, my body refuses to simply lay there and take the abuse, struggling involuntarily in response to her strikes.

"Fu-u-u-k," Tamara grunts unevenly, the riding crop hitting the tender flesh of my other breast this time.

Again I squeal and squirm. And again Tamara moans in rapture as my nose caresses her clitoris. I can tell she is wants to fuck my face. I feel the hunger in her body language. And it tells me she wants-no, needs to ride my mouth.

"God, I just want to wrap my pussy around your face," she moans, caressing her large breasts with her left hand, the other hand holding the riding crop.

This time, the crop slapped me directly in the crotch.

I jerk involuntarily against my restraints, struggling desperately to pull my hands free-to clutch myself protectively. All I manage to do is stimulate Tamara's clitoris for the umpteenth time. Her are moans are becoming increasingly feverish.

Tamara had a way of taking the concept of a long, relaxing shower to the absurd. I was surprised there was any hot water left. Our shower had easily passed the hour mark, and she had finished washing the both of us quite some time ago. Now, she was just enjoying herself in what might be the most ridiculous way possible.

"Fuck," I swore to myself, barely managing to keep from screaming aloud as the crop struck my inner thigh. She followed immediately with another swat, this time hitting my vaginal lips directly again. This time, I cuss aloud, squirming yet again.

The swats come more rapidly, her all-consuming need crescendoing toward what would undoubtedly be an explosive orgasm. She had a tendency to tease herself until a single thought consumed her mind. And then she went several steps beyond that.

There were times when I was certain she felt bad about the pain she inflicted. But when she got like this, the same pain that seemed to arouse sympathy in a normal situation excited her tenfold.

One after another, her swats went wild. Thigh. Stomach. Breast. Breast again. Clitoris. While she almost never struck the same spot twice in a row, no exposed flesh was safe. I bucked in pain, unable to stop squirming as she continued to assail my flesh without pity or mercy. My whole body was exhausted, but it reacted autonomously.

Her moans became erratic as my nose jerked repeatedly into her slit. It was clear she was on the brink of orgasm, but somehow she was able to resist helping the process along. It was, quite possibly, the most restraint I had ever seen her demonstrate.

There were certainly times where she didn't need, or event want, my assistance. She often liked to take control of her own pleasure with a nearly primal passion. And then there were times like this. Times where she wanted me to do the majority of the work whether I wanted to or not.

Her breathing grew ragged, and her body tensed in anticipation. She turned her attention, and her riding crop, solely to my tender, swollen vulva. She smacked it sharply. Again. And again. And again.

After 30 or 40 swats worth of bucking, her whole body tensed a final time and a scream forced itself through her lips.

"FUCK! Oh. Fuck." She was already deep in the throes of orgasm as her fingers moved, as if by their own volition. She began feverishly rubbing her clit. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

This time, the liquid that covered my face definitely wasn't water.

*****

"That was incredible," Tamara sighed, caressing my breast with her index finger. She was lying next to me, recovering her energy.

After she'd been able to stand-rather, after we'd both been able to stand, Tamara had guided me back to my bed.

My bed. When did I start thinking of it as mine?

Tamara often enjoyed snuggling with me after such an exertion. She tortured me beyond what anyone should be forced to endure, then expected me to respond to her with the tenderness of a caring girlfriend.

I wondered if I could gouge out her eyes before she could stop me. It would hardly be productive, but it would be immensely satisfying. I told her I'd forgiven her for forcing me to drink her urine, but nothing could be further from the truth.

I wasn't particularly thrilled with the way she'd treated me in the shower-it would take me days to recover. But there was little more violating than forcing one to drink hot urine directly from one's urethra.

Although, I really wished she would move on past this new kick of hers. The last time we'd showered together, she tickled me until she came on my mouth. I wasn't sure if that was better or worse than the riding crop. Sure, my entire body was smarting, but at least I wasn't laughing uncontrollably as Tamara coated my face with viscous fluids.

She had been on this kick for what felt like weeks. She loved when I got her off without her needing to stimulate herself against my face, even if that meant beating me until my squirming forced an orgasm.

*****

Tamara walked into the room.

She was wearing cotton pajamas with a matching top and bottom and patterned with hand-drawn hearts with a mixture of pink, fushia, and white. The pants were drawn in with an elastic drawstring, and the top was a button-down with a notch collar and patch pocket.

Did that mean it was night time? Or morning?

"Did you come to take me for a walk?"

She seldom answered when I was trying to be funny, but she looked unusually intense, even for her.

Her pants were on the floor before she was halfway to the bed.

"Tamara, what are you doing?" I grunt, still feeling disoriented from being jolted awake.

She doesn't respond. As she approaches, I notice she has her phone in hand, and on the screen I can just make out an image of what looks like pornography. I can see two women on a bare mattress, and the top woman is clearly dominating the woman on the bottom. The top woman has a slender back decorated with a colorful assortment of tattoos. The bottom woman's face is trapped under her ass. It was a scene I could relate to far too well.

The image changes, and I see a close-up of the top woman's vulva. The camera angle is from the eyes of the lower woman, as the top woman is presumably about to push her mound against the face of the bottom woman. I stare, mouth agape. She has a half-dozen piercings in each of her vaginal lips.

Tamara straddles my body, facing my feet. I found myself staring at her round, voluptuous ass. It appeared she hadn't been wearing any panties.

Just before she shifted the phone and I lost sight of it, I saw the top woman spitting a significant amount of saliva onto the face of the bottom woman before beginning to hump her face.

Fuck. With all of those piercings, I couldn't help feel bad for the bottom woman. That was going to hurt.

Tamara's ass descended. She locked her ankles on either side of my head, making it impossible to look away as my face disappeared into her milky white backside.

I could hear bits of the audio. It was a mixture of painful grunts, sadistic laughing, and pleasurable moans. Tamara began to grind her pussy against my mouth.

My nose slid back and forth along her ass crack, bumping over her anus with each thrust. Her wet, swollen sex slid back and forth from chin to nose, coating the bottom half of my face in her juices.

Tamara set her phone on my abdomen, using one hand to grope her breast through her pajamas. Her other gripped my chin in a death grip, holding my face in place as she began thrusting harder. Her hips moved rhythmically, but with little need for build-up. She was already horny and looking only for release.

It was no more than five minutes until she came.

Tamara leaned against the mattress, resting a moment in order to catch her breath. With still not so much as a word, she climbed off my face and gathered her things.

And then she was gone.

*****

Tamara ran her fingers through my hair.

No matter how many days I spent trying to think of a way out of my prison, I had come up with jack squat. The only option I could think of was simply playing along, hoping that eventually she would either learn to trust me or eventually grow bored.

So far, it didn't seem like she was getting bored. And I still couldn't tell if she trusted me any more than the day she imprisoned me.

With my cheek pressed against the sheet, I look awkwardly at Tamara. She's lying next to me on the mattress. Her gaze is unusually disconcerting. She stares at me, not saying a word.

"What's going through that perverted mind of yours?" I ask, trying to break the awkward silence.

"I'm thinking that you could take all of this," she grins innocently, lifting a strapon to her face. She runs the tip of the black phallus over her full, pink lips teasingly. Then, without warning, pushes the head of the rubber cock into my mouth.

As the dildo pushes past my tongue, I nearly choke. My relief is only momentary as she slides the dildo back out, immediately pushing it back in.

This continues for several minutes, each time she pushes further into my throat.

"You do like it when I fuck your mouth, don't you?" She grins, clearly not needing a reply.

Despite not being able to talk with a mouth full of dildo, I want to believe my eyes say everything.

She pulls the dildo from my mouth.

"I remember how much you enjoyed this before," Tamara bites her lip and pushes the dildo slowly, deliberately into her own mouth.

"Let me show you how it's done," she mumbles, words partially distorted.

"Just so we're clear, I didn't enjo-" I trail off, feeling ill at ease as her eyes lock mine. The entire dildo disappears into the mouth, her eyes never breaking contact. It feels intensely sexual as she holds the entire dildo in her mouth, her saliva mixing with mine.

She parts her lips and carefully removes the strapon, letting it slide only against her tongue.

"Like that," she grins. "And if you want to be extra thorough-"

She sits up slightly, holding the strapon vertically under her lips. Working her jaw for a minute, she slides her tongue in and out of her mouth a few times, accumulating saliva. Sticking her tongue out a final time, I stare in disgust as saliva drips from her tongue onto the head and drips down the shaft of the cock.

"Now, why don't you see if you can tell the difference?"

She pushes my cheek into the mattress, shoving the wet dildo back into my mouth.

Oh, God. It was drenched with her saliva. She pushes it eagerly back and forth over my tongue. I wasn't sure, but I thought I smelled the aroma of feminine arousal.

"Oh? I just got a text from Krista," she comments offhandedly, pulling her phone to her face.

"What? What does it say?"

"Spit on this," she demands, pushing the dildo back to my lips.

I comply, spitting quickly onto the head.

"Now, what does the text say?"

"More," she demands.

I roll my eyes, spitting again. This time more like she'd previously done.

"Please, how is Krista?" I beg, anxious for any information.

Tamara sits up and slips the strapon onto her hips while still staring the phone screen.

"She wants to know if I have Michael's contact information."

Tamara walks on her knees until she's behind me. The strap-on pressing against my ass cheeks as she runs her hands over my back.

"She thinks he did something to you," Tamara laughs, groping my breasts.

"Can we get this over with?" I sigh, feeling dejected. Krista was on the wrong track. No one was ever going to find me.

"You can't rush a good ass-fucking," Tamara grins, spreading my ass cheeks with her hands. "And what should I say back to Krista?"

"Can we not talk about Krista right now?" I grunt, feeling the tip of the strapon pushing against my anus.

I can't so much as struggle the way Tamara has me tied up. She looped my leg restraints under the bed and attached them to my knees, pulling them under me. My arms were pulled forward, holding my shoulders to the mattress. The end result was that I was trapped face down in the mattress with my ass high in the air. There was nothing I could do to fight it, and the last thing I needed was to be thinking about my sister while Tamara was fucking me in the ass.

"Should I tell her she should be with Michael instead? That maybe I was wrong about him?" Tamara laughs. "That might help both of them move on."

I ignore her taunts, focusing on the sensation of the cock pushing into me. I try to focus, breathing through the discomfort. There isn't much pain, per se. Just a overabundance of disconcerting sensations. I get flashes of myself at the mall, trapped on the dirty floor of the bathroom stall, head wedged between wall and toilet.

"I'm sorry you haven't heard from her-" Tamara wrote, speaking aloud as she finishes sliding the dildo fully in. "But maybe you're better off?"

"What?!" I exclaim, gasping with a mixture of frustration and discomfort, Tamara pulls the dildo out, slowly thrusting in again. I wasn't sure whether it was coated more with her saliva or mine, but at least it was effectively lubricated. Even so, it was hard to do anything but focus on the large cock violating my ass.

"She was kind of a bitch to you sometimes." Tamara speaks slowly, still typing with one hand. Her other rested on my hip.

"You wouldn't dare," I exclaim.

"Already done," she grins, hitting send.

I want to protest further but, now that her attention is undivided, she begins to pick up speed. Her nails dig into my hips, her own hips slapping against my ass.

The sound is almost deafening in the otherwise complete silence.

I couldn't believe she was trying so hard to turn Krista against me.

Whether thinking about Krista moving on with Michael or thinking that she was happier without me, I felt nauseated. I knew there was no way Krista would ever go after Michael. She was into women, after all. Yet, I couldn't stop worrying. About that, and a million other things.

My orgasm took me by surprise, my body still reacting despite the fact my mind was a million miles away.

I squeal, feeling pleasure shoot through me. Somehow, I don't enjoy the orgasmic sensations as much as normal. I'm too distracted. Too worried.

"My turn now!" Tamara grins, withdrawing the wet, messy strapon and setting it carefully on the nightstand.

She pushes her legs between mine, sliding backward underneath my body, facing the bed.

"What are you doing?" I ask, perplexed and still distracted.

Her ass pushes against mine, and then under. Her buttocks caress my entire torso, sliding from my pussy, along my abdomen, and over my breasts. She continues pushing with her arms and wiggling her body backward until her buttocks slide under my head, pushing my face upward. I try to turn away, but the strain on my arm restraints is too tight to maneuver my head away. My face is trapped in her ass cheeks.

"You know what to do."

Reluctantly, I give in. I know from experience my options are either lick her ass, or spend an hour suffocating, only to still end up licking her ass. And then, for an encore, she'll make me lick her ass.

Her arm bumps my leg repeatedly as she plays with herself, teasing her vaginal lips as if she has all the time in the world.

The sad truth of the matter was-she did.

*****

By my count, Tamara came on my face an average of 9 or 10 times per day. Of course, I had no idea what happened when she left the room. There were days when all she wanted was feel my face in her ass. The entire day, literally nothing but ass. As far as I knew, she only came a couple of times on those days. Half the time, she pleasured herself by rubbing herself to orgasm with her fingers, my face trapped under her weight. The rest of the time, she grinded her asshole against my nose while humping my chin. Of course, she'd occasionally mix it up by making me lick her asshole. The disturbing part about those days, is I actually got the impression she thought she was doing me a favor.

It was true, I did get sexually frustrated by her big, fat, disgusting, and all around God damn sexy ass. It was sexy. I had finally forced myself to admit that. The only way I was going to fix myself was to understand what was wrong with me. I still had no idea why I found her ass so hot, but I did. But it didn't mean I liked having it shoved in my face. It was no favor, especially since she never let me cum. She would leave me sexually frustrated without fail, my arms restrained so that I could never even finish myself off.

And those were the good days, as far as I was concerned. After a day of ass, multiple days always followed of nothing but pussy. More pussy in a single day than any straight woman should see in a lifetime. It was as if smothering me with her ass was foreplay, and then she needed several days of constant orgasms to release all the built-up tension. She would cum closer to a dozen times throughout the day. Neither of us slept much when Tamara got into one of her "moods."

Tamara leaned over, kissing my lips tenderly. "I love the way you make me feel."

"I-I love the way you make me feel too," I choke out. I still tried my best to win her trust, but I was feeling increasingly hopeless. But I didn't know what else to do. Angering her was hardly prudent.

I could still smell her scent in my nostrils. In fact, it was hard to remember the last time I couldn't smell her. Despite using my face to cum multiple times in a day, I estimated she only let me shower around once per week. Even in the shower, I could never really wash her fragrance completely off my skin. Despite all of the soap and water, Tamara always managed to leave a fresh coating of cum on my mouth by the time the shower had ended.

"Are you ready for your training?" Tamara looked intently at me, having now sufficiently recovered. I wanted to ask her which training, but I couldn't bring myself to care. There were no good "trainings."

She stood up, tugging my chain toward the other side of the room. My answers never mattered to her, so I had stopped giving them.

She adamantly refused to unfasten the cord from my collar; she wasn't willing to take the risk. But she enjoyed jerking me around by a leash she'd attached.

I may as well have had neither. I wasn't about to try escaping again. Not until I could be certain-absolutely certain of success. And without knowing the combination to the door lock, escape was already a non-starter. I could try to subdue her and force the code from her. But I wouldn't put it past her to let us both starve to death rather than letting me have even the tiniest of victories.

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