by Felix Baron
‘You ever put that one up your bum?’ Wanda asked.
‘Mm. It’s very good that way. My knot opens and closes for each little ball, so … Why tell you when I can show you?’ Kitty slathered the plastic with lube, turned around and knelt up on the bed, facing away from the mirror, her face on the bedspread, bum high. ‘Can you see my reflection OK?’ she asked.
Wanda said, ‘Yes,’ but she’d turned sideways to watch Kitty’s play directly.
The girl reached back between her own thighs with her toy buzzing in her fist. She introduced the top ball to the ring of her bum-hole. ‘Watch it go in, Wanda,’ she purred.
Wanda watched, fascinated. This was a process she’d never observed before. As she watched, she folded a lip of her pussy over her delicate clit and pressed on it with the head of the Wand.
The plastic ball indented Kitty’s bottom, pushing and being resisted, until, with an almost audible ‘plop’, the ball disappeared. Kitty said, ‘That’s one.’
‘There’s six in all,’ Wanda said. ‘How many can you manage?’
‘Watch, and wonder, Wanda.’
‘Oh, I will.’
The second ball was pressing, harder, and it too plopped through the tight restriction. It was fascinating. What would it feel like? Wanda could imagine but reality beats imagination when it comes to sex.
That was an interesting thought.
To Wanda’s surprise and disappointment, Kitty tugged. The second ball from the top distended her rectum, pulled it up into a little pink striated mound, then popped out.
‘Is that it?’ Wanda demanded.
‘Of course not. Just playing.’
‘Oh!’
‘I don’t rush it.’
‘Take your time,’ Wanda told her, and eased up the vibrating pressure on her clit. It wouldn’t do to come too soon.
The second ball was forced back in, then the third went in, came out, went back in again. Kitty, her voice muffled by her bedclothes, said, ‘I had a man once who I trained to just push the head of his cock into my bum, then pull it out, over and over, until I told him he could go ahead and just do me. That was fun.’
‘I bet.’
The fourth ball disappeared. And the fifth. The end had to be very deep inside Kitty by then.
‘Is that thing flexible?’ Wanda asked.
‘No, it’s stiff. Good job my rectum is bendable.’ The sixth ball went in.
Wanda gasped, ‘Fuck! Sorry. Is that good?’
‘Lovely. Now all I need is …’
Kitty’s other hand appeared between her legs, holding a two-pronged toy with a small ball at the top of each prong. ‘For bum and pussy; G spot and clit.’ She inserted one prong into her pussy and manoeuvred the other until it pressed against her clit, which was really engorged. Damn, it had turned dark scarlet. Kitty had to be having a hell of a good time. Wanda worked the Wand’s ball harder against where her clit was partially protected. A drop more lube would have been nice but she didn’t want to stop to apply it.
Kitty was panting into her bedspread. Both of her hands were working the toys she held, six vibrating balls inside her bum, one on her G spot and the other on her clit. All she really needed was someone to pinch and roll her nipples, Wanda thought, and she’d be complete. It was a tempting thought but she managed to just imagine that she was doing it to her friend instead of breaking her own rule.
Too late, anyway. Kitty was quivering into a climax. Wanda pressed her toy down a little harder with one hand while she twisted her right nipple with the fingers of the other and joined her friend in a gentle paroxysm of pleasure. Gentle, but very, very, pleasant.
Kitty found pink satin pyjamas for each of them and they went to bed, temporarily sated.
Chapter Nineteen
Wanda dreamt.
All she had on was an abbreviated transparent pink T-shirt. She just had to hope that if she met anyone they wouldn’t notice that she was naked from her waist down. Wanda was still in Kitty’s apartment but it had changed by growing enormous. Every room was two floors high and big enough to hold a ball in. There were dozens of those vast chambers, maybe hundreds. Every one of them held tables that were loaded down with gift-wrapped boxes, all addressed to Wanda. She wandered from room to room, touching and shaking but not opening. For some reason, she was nervous about what they might contain.
Finally, she summoned up her courage and tore the paper and lid off one. It held a Russian nesting doll that had been painted to look like a nun, complete with wimple and habit. When she screwed the head off the nun, there was a Betty Boop inside, looking as saucy and playfully sexy as ever. Inside Betty, there was a Jessica Rabbit, but with Wanda’s face and hair. Wanda shook Jessica. She rattled, so there was at least one more doll to discover but the thought of what kind of doll it might be made Wanda nervous. She set the dolls aside.
The next parcel revealed a Faberge egg. When she picked it up, it vibrated. She pressed it to her pubes and felt tiny, very pleasant electric shocks that curled her toes. Should she keep it there and get off on it? It seemed like some sort of desecration, to use a priceless work of art to masturbate with, but she was rich and special now, wasn’t she? Fabulously wealthy people did that sort of thing. They were entitled.
Before she could decide, Kitty arrived. She was leading a man in a grey three-piece suit by the hand. He needed leading because he was blindfolded.
Kitty said, ‘I found this outside, Wanda. I thought you might like it, to play with. He doesn’t know who we are or where he is, so you can do pretty much what you like with him.’
‘You’re so kind, Kitty.’
‘You know I love you, darling. Shall I peel him for you?’
‘Please do.’
The man’s clothes had to have been made for a male stripper because all the seams were Velcro. With one strong rip, Kitty had him naked. How that worked with his shoes and socks, Wanda didn’t know, but it wasn’t important. He stood there, bare and fidgeting, with an impressive but limp cock dangling down in front of his muscular thighs.
Kitty said, ‘That will never do!’ She gave his shaft a few quick strokes. It rose and lengthened impressively. ‘How do you want him?’ she asked Wanda.
Wanda pushed a pile of presents aside and hitched herself onto the space she’d made. She pointed at the floor. ‘Kneel him here,’ she said.
Kitty led him and pushed him down. Wanda took him by his ears and guided his mouth to her sex.
‘Get to work,’ Kitty ordered.
He did, hands behind his back, nuzzling into her, he lapped and sucked and lapped some more, engorging her clit more than it had ever engorged before, until it projected from her folds for a full half-inch.
‘Suck on it!’ Kitty ordered.
He did, fellating Wanda’s clit as if it was a tiny cock. Kitty watched and fondled herself idly. Wanda relaxed back until she was lying on the table with her legs dangling from her hips down.
‘Fuck now!’ she said.
‘You heard the lady.’ Kitty pulled the man to his feet by his hair. ‘Excuse me,’ she said as she took hold of his cock and introduced it to Wanda’s pussy. ‘Now do it.’
He thrust. Wanda braced herself. He had to have a weird cock because it vibrated up inside her. Maybe he had an implant. That seemed like a good idea – prosthetic vibrating cocks, for men.
‘Do you want him to come inside you?’ Kitty asked.
‘Not particularly. Once I’ve climaxed, I don’t care where he comes.’
‘Then it’s OK if I take it?’
‘Be my guest.’
‘You’re so sweet, Wanda. Henry is a very lucky man.’
It didn’t happen very often in her dreams, and Wanda had realised she was dreaming by then, but she climaxed. ‘All yours,’ she told Kitty.
Kitty squatted quickly and yanked the anonymous man around so that his semen sprayed all over her tiny breasts. ‘Thanks, Wanda,’ she said. As she led the man away, they both shrank down to the size of ants, and
disappeared.
Wanda said, ‘You’re welcome,’ and woke up.
Kitty was spooning her and holding her breast in her hand, but she was asleep, so it wasn’t a betrayal. Wanda was damp and warm between her thighs. She slipped out of bed to avoid complications and went to heat up Chinese leftovers for their breakfast. At least it wasn’t a cold pizza.
Chapter Twenty
Madame Lupe, Wanda’s dancing teacher, said, ‘The tango, she is a dance of love and courtship. The man, he tries to dominate the woman. She pretends to resist as she lures him into her clutches, when she “surrenders” and he is hers. The lambada, she is different. This is the dance of pure lust. The man and the woman are equals, both ver’ hot for each other. We dance from here.’ She clutched the crotch of her emerald-green Velour pants. ‘It is the love making while standing up, including the frottage. When the last notes of the music fade away, there is no doubt what comes next. They will fall to the floor and ravage each other in the frenzy of the fuck. You understand, huh?’
‘Yes I do, thanks, Madame Lupe.’
‘You are coming along ver’ good. Your lovers will be proud of you. Next time, I want to see you in four-inch heels, not those silly baby shoes, OK?’
‘I’ll try.’
Wanda rushed through her shower and changing. She had a lunch date with the moms and Henry, at a Thai restaurant that was on the other side of the city. After that, they had an appointment to try out flavours of wedding cake, then on to finalise the menu for the reception.
There was no reasonable way to do it by public transport. She was forced to drive. Inevitably, despite her GPS, Wanda got lost and was late. The moms were eating ice cream and drinking coffee. There was a blank place where Henry must have been sitting.
‘About time,’ her mom snorted.
‘Sorry. Where’s Henry?’
Lucinda said, ‘We needed the guest list so Henry went to fetch it.’
Wanda’s mom added, ‘I gave him a key to our place and the password for your laptop. He’s clever. He’ll know how to print it out.’
Wanda sank into a chair. Oh? Henry. Her laptop. The files for Dr Sullivan, full of her dreams and fantasies and the actual truth about what she and Kitty had done together? Cold slimy panic gripped her guts.
‘Oh! Hm, Mom, I changed my password a while back,’ she lied, though she’d meant to. ‘I’d better go help him.’
She tore out of the restaurant, ignoring her mom’s cry of: ‘You could phone it to him.’ She gunned her engine. How long did she have to save her life from total disaster? Could she cross the city in six minutes or less? She could but try.
Impending doom focused her attention on the route but it still took the best part of an hour. Wanda parked. Should she just run away and never return? Could she fake an illness and then a coma? What she had to do, of course, was go in and face the consequences of her libidinous and perverted imagination. There would be a price to pay. Henry would dump her. Her mom would disown her. Perhaps she’d still have a friend in Kitty, but she’d be poor. Filthy rich people don’t chum around with paupers.
Suicide seemed like it might be an excellent solution, if there was a way to do it that wouldn’t hurt.
What the fuck! Wanda braced herself and went in. She called, ‘Henry? Are you here, darling? Where are you?’ Could he have got himself lost? That didn’t seem likely. Henry wasn’t the type. She slowly trudged through the living room to her bedroom. Oh, God! He was there, intently reading something on her screen. It wasn’t the guest list. She froze.
In a dangerously calm voice, he said, ‘Good afternoon, Wanda.’
She gabbled, ‘That’s not real, none of it. It’s dreams and stuff. None of it ever happened. You can ask my shrink, Dr Sullivan. He’ll tell you. I have a condition. I can’t help those thoughts. It’s not my fault, really it isn’t. It’s like Tourette’s.’ She dried up and waited.
He looked at her and said, ‘You realise that this changes everything, don’t you, Wanda?’
Her last hope died. ‘I –’
‘I was going to wait until after we were married,’ he continued.
What on earth did he mean by that? Wait for what?
‘I’ve known all along that you’d need training, Wanda. I’ve been impatient to start, so I’m not that disappointed to have to commence now.’
‘Training? What do you mean?’
‘Discipline. I’ve seen your potential all along. After a short period of instruction, you will make me the ideal wife. You’re beautiful and have an incredibly powerful sex drive. It certainly helps that you are also sweet and charming.’
Hope bloomed, along with total confusion. ‘Thank you, Henry, but I still don’t understand what it is that you’re talking about.’
‘You soon will. Our mothers are going to keep those appointments without us. They’ll phone before returning. Those are the instructions I gave them.’
‘You tell your mother what to do?’
‘My father trained her well. Now, you still have that riding crop I gave you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Go fetch it.’
Wanda turned and walked away like an automaton. He wanted the crop? She couldn’t think what for. Come to that, she couldn’t think at all. Her mind was a total blank. It was as if her brain had frozen solid. She could do as she was told. That was the extent of her volition. The crop was on the top shelf of the hall closet. She took it down and carried it on two open palms back to where Henry waited. He’d taken his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves. What muscular forearms he had!
‘Take your skirt off,’ he said.
She did as she was told, still not understanding what was happening.
‘And the panties.’
That sounded nice. He was telling her to take her panties off. That had to mean that something sexual was going to happen. A corner of her brain woke up.
‘Bend over my knees,’ he said.
The corner of her brain closed down again but she did as she was bidden. His hand pushed her top a little higher and then caressed the cheeks of her bottom. She enjoyed that. He liked her bum. That was a good thing.
‘Do you know what I’m about to do, Wanda?’
She shook her head and then managed to squeak out, ‘No, Henry.’
‘I thought not. I was absolutely right about you, my darling.’
‘Of course you were, Henry.’
‘Ready?’
She nodded without understanding. His arm rose. There was a swish and a line of fire bloomed across her upper thighs.
‘Is this real life, Henry? Not a dream? Not a fantasy?’
‘This is absolutely real, Wanda.’ The crop came down again.
Wanda’s new life, her perfect life, had finally started. She’d never need to fantasise again.
Henry Chandler’s Cream of Carrot Soup.
Two pounds of baby carrots, chopped.
Two pounds of Vidalia onions, chopped.
A quarter pound of butter.
2% milk.
½ and ½ cream.
Salt and pepper.
One teaspoon of dried oregano.
Dry sherry or Worcester sauce.
Melt the butter in a large heavy saucepan. Add the onions and stir as you simmer until the onions are transparent.
Add the carrots.
Add 2% milk. Enough to just cover the vegetables.
Keep simmering until the carrots turn to mush, adding milk as necessary.
Add salt and pepper to taste, plus the oregano.
Keep stirring and simmering, adding ½ and ½ cream until you have a thick creamy consistence. If the mix gets too watery, slowly heat it till it thickens.
Pour into soup bowls.
Decorate each bowl of soup with a swirl of either sherry or Worcester in the centre.
Serve.
Leftovers can be frozen and reheated.
Alternatives.
Use chicken stock instead of milk.
Decorate with blobs of thick sour cream instead of the sherry or Worcester.
Substitute small tender parsnips for some or all of the carrots.
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Copyright
This novella is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.