“Good, good girl Wendy. I do like a well behaved pet. I do like a well behaved bitch suckling my jugs' teats. And to think, your sisters there are so proud of their big sister, so proud.”
Dorothea was holding Wendy's head, by the hair with one hand and she was guiding the tit flesh with the other. Just tucking her hand and fingers under the breast mound, digging her finger tips and nails in there a little, then lifting and dipping the thick nipples into the mouth of Wendy. Wendy's mouth was so small, so diminutive and thin lipped that it looked like she was sucking a medium sized cock, such was the thickness and the length of the nipples. She would guide the nipple into the mouth and then dip her whole breast weight behind it so that it effectively gagged the small woman. Then she would release the hand that had guided the tit and she would use the wall for support as she rose and dipped, rose and dipped. Her long strong shapely legs spread, bend at the knees and her feet severely arched into the acute stiletto heels that she wore. Eventually the suckling wet sounds coming from the mouth became obscene. More than obscene. The amount of saliva produced more and more copious as the scene became one whereby there were thick ribbons of drool and saliva stretched from nipple tips to tongue and lips of Wendy. As the mouth fucking by thick, engorged nipple progressed, Wendy reacting hungrily to the offered tit meat. Her tongue swirling around the speckled, raised aureole and then wrapping like some kind of constrictor around the nipple stem. Wendy's tongue so long, thick and wet that she could constrict the nipple stem and then swipe the tip of the tongue across the nipple tip. It was yet another minute, tiny and almost imperceptible connection with her real world. Yes in this dream she was in control, she was topping Wendy, dominating her and keeping control of the twins who watched hungrily from the side-lines. But the pleasure that Wendy was able to provide to those dipping, fucking nipples was a sign of the control that she had in real life. Not even Dorothea would get the connection in those early dreams. But it was a connection that was there for sure. There were little grunts and groans of pleasure that dripped wetly from Dorothea's deep red lips as she stooped over Wendy and as she raised and lowered her nipples into the waiting, eager mouth. And that was just it – it was an eager waiting mouth that was ready to take the nipples. First one then the other.
“Mmmmmm good good girl... that’s what mama likes.”
The sort of voice that was as obscene as it was husky and cigarette stained. The sort of voice that told of Dorothea's descent into a deeper lust and a deeper perversion as the small woman pleasured her nipples the way that she did. But that was the thing that separated the dream from the reality. In the reality, Wendy simply had to swipe the nipples once with her tongue and the orgasm would come on strong, more than strong immediately. There would be no warning of it coming, it would just simply come with that silky smooth swipe of that velvety tongue and the orgasm would be an immediate hit. An intense hit and an absolute hit of pure, undiluted pleasure. But in the dream that didn't happen. For some reason it didn't happen and yet at the same time, the constrictions and the swiping of that tongue tip did 'hint' or 'promise' things to come. Like they were being a tease – like the tongue, the lips and Wendy herself was drawing Dorothea into the world, back into the real world via that dream. It was the connection that Dorothea didn't get. As far as she was concerned this was her escape from that nightmare world, not another route into it. In her dreams she could escape the hell that had been heaped up on her. It was her chance to slip into an escape and enjoy the world as she preferred to see it. Not the world in which she was forced to smile – forced to be positive. But she couldn't even see that connection. She was positive – so positive in the dreams. But it was easy in the dreams because she was not being forced to endure those things, those silktex things deep inside her femininity. In these dreams she was positive because she could be. Not positive because she was being forced to be, or because she was enduring something she preferred not to be enduring. She was positive on her terms.
“Mmmmmm good girls, my girls. My good girls.”
Dorothea's voice became more and more drippingly obscene the further along this dream went. It wasn't just that it sounded obscene and frankly disgusting – it did that with interest – and along with the more and more exaggerated stance and movements, the sort that happened with increasing and increasing arousal – it was the way it poured out from between her full sensuous lips. Like the rest of her, her lips moved as thought they were hungry – not just hungry but sexually hungry and so the more she fucked Wendy's mouth with her nipple teats, the more friction, wet slithering friction she gained and the more pleasure she gained. By this time though the twins had crawled between her spread legs and they were each suckling a labia. There would be no point pretending, even in a dream that was dissected by that shard of light that Dorothea didn't have large, well-used labial lips to her name – she did. It seemed that with all of her intimacies, she excelled in volume. Her cunt lips were no different and the tiny, tiny twins were under her with their neck craned up like they were the feeding young of a proud mum, and they were lapping their tongues over the slug like lips. Dorothea was dipping and pulling up, dipping and pulling up and the twins were following every tiny nuance of movement with their own tongue. Slipping out the tongues and licking the length of the labia lips. Sometimes the lapping tongues would barely touch the lips, just wisping across and over the flesh in order to make that same flesh twitch and buzz. And that was just it – that flesh did twitch and buzz and those little wispy movement and flashed across the tops of the labia did feed her need just that little bit more.
Other times then the licking was a more firm fluid movement using the bubbles of their own saliva then mixed in with her own juices that had begun to produce in copious amounts. Firm licking of the full length of the lips – the licking from both twins like mirror images, mirror lickings of the lips. First one way then the other and then back the other way again. The twins super competent in what they did and how they did it. The dream scene as surreal as anything anyone could conjure up in their imagination. Both girls making sure that they did their work on the prose Dorothea who was swimming in her own intense pleasure. But at the same time, enjoying what they were doing for their own ends. Suckling those labia lips and drinking the juices that were dripping off them. Spending a long time licking the lips, feeding Dorothea, feeding her need and then some more, licking and drinking – licking and drinking – and then working in unison although the perfect synchronisation being broken a bit as one twin licked to the bottom of Dorothea's slit and then other licking up and towards her hooded clitoris. Not touching the clitoris but at the same time feeding into the mind of Dorothea that it was definitely on the cards that she was going to have her clitoris licked. This, another of the times when the dream world and the real world were almost colliding. If they weren't colliding then they were brushing up against each other and teasing each other. Dorothea in control and yet not in control. Dorothea dominating Wendy, totally dominating her, drowning her with her own jug flesh and yet at the same time not because Wendy was pleasuring her and she was picking and choosing when and how to pleasure her. It was like Dorothea was controlling the bigger picture – like she was the painter of the picture that was being produced and yet Wendy was the one who was taking care of all those little nuances – the tiny little things that would eventually come together and blend the two worlds together – make them one. From a poised, almost arrogantly stanced stoop over Wendy, it became more like a squat. The knees bending and opening a little more then a little more still. Her overall stance lower and more obscene as she bounced her sex into the tiny small faces of the twins – as though she were encouraging them, as though she were eager for them to lick the deeper confines of her cunt and as though she was increasingly desperate for them to hunt down her clitoris and swipe it with their eager, expert tongues.
Yes she was dominating the twins and she was dominating Wendy, but to see the dream from start to finish, the domination, the domina
nce was slipping. She was crudely posed and being licked and pleasured intimately like only this weird fucking family could do. Licking her and teasing her femininity – her alive and pulsating femininity. Licking it, constricting it, wetting it and slipping through it with tongues, and lips. The tongues down below just ploughing through the labia – doing a little dance with each other – both twins intertwining the ends of their tongues between the open, throbbing labial flesh, and then going on their own separate ways again as they each took turns to swipe around the base of the clitoris without disturbing the hood. Well, that wouldn't be strictly true – swiping around the base of the clitoris yes, but with just enough pressure applied so that the hood pulled against the clitoris flesh – so that the feeling of constriction and pulling at the clitoris was emphasised and enhanced. Such a feeling making her stoop lower and lower – more obscenely. Hips thrust back, the twins space beneath her thighs becoming less and less. And at the same time, her grip on Wendy's hair becoming tighter and tighter as she was forced down and down – the fucking motions of her fleshy voluminous breasts becoming more and more obscene and desperate. The noises as the nipples, first one then the other becoming more and more obscene and grotesque the hungrier she got.
“Mmmmm that’s my good girls... mmmmm yesssss good good girlsssss.”
It was a base growl that she was letting out. It was a growl that was disguised as hissed words and yet it was a growl none the less. What she was talking was sexually addled bullshit. Like the base of her hunger had been reached and was making her sink below gutter level in status. But it didn't matter because this was the dream – this was what it was all about. This was where she needed to be – not in that horrible world of horror and utter control and terror that she had become a part of in the real world. Here, in these dreams she could be who she wanted to be and in any way she wanted to be and there were no comebacks. Here she could intermingle all of those positive smiles and vibes with ones of pure unadulterated undiluted pleasure. Intense pleasure – mind blowing pleasure. Mind numbing pleasure. Mind melting pleasure. She groaned as she lowered herself a little more and as she lowered herself a little more so the rhythm was changed. So the dipping and rising of her hips over the mouths of the twins became more like a grinding down into their faces. At the same time as that there was more of a shoving of her thick teat like nipples into the eager mouth of Wendy. Just hovering the nipple teats above the mouth first waiting for the eager fleshy tongue to come out and meet and then a plopping down of the tit flesh – the nipple teat sinking into the warm wet confines of the mouth and then the rest of the heavy, pale tits flesh sinking over her face, covering her nose and her mouth and her eyes. Blinding her and yet at the same time the mouth working and working on the flesh. Dorothea swivelling on her hips a bit – making the tidal wave of flesh shift, and ebb and flow over the upturned, tiny face of Wendy. Wendy making noises of sorts that were muffled out by the volume of flesh being applied. But those noises seeming to come from the back of her throat. All wet and bubbly. But the mouth working – suckling on the nipple – suckling the nipple deep into her mouth until the tip pressed against the back of her throat and then working it just there. Using that pressure to tease the ultra-sensitive nipple tip. Dorothea pressing down with her tits, as though the act of smothering this tiny insignificant woman was giving her an added thrill. As though she were getting added sexual joy from making this woman drown in her hooter flesh. Spreading her knees then, making it easier for the twins to apply upward pressure with their own mouth and tongue. Dorothea spreading and smearing her sex flesh all over their tiny faces and at the same time gaining some much needed friction with her femininity. But the twins calling the shots – with the downward pressure applied by Dorothea, they were adjusting their mouths and their tongues and simply fine tuning what they were doing. Dorothea convinced she was getting that extra little bit of something that she needed where in fact she wasn't. Her mind was melting – even though she was the one dominating and controlling the dream – the reality is that she wasn't. The tiny family, the sisters, the twins and Wendy were playing her they - were playing her with their mouths and they were doing it expertly and thoroughly.
Mmmmmmm good good girls. My good girls.”
The huskiness in itself sounded obscene and yet the words that Dorothea hissed and dribbled as she was being brought to the height of a super intense orgasm was even worse. Like a mama talking to her offspring in that deluded sexual manner. Like something out of a low life film – gutter level. As she approached orgasm, so she shoved more of her tit meat into the mouth of Wendy. First one tit and then the other and then back again. Dipping the tits in wetly and thoroughly until she felt that pressure to the nipple tip at the back of Wendy's throat – then the tits swapped over, exchanged and re-dipped. As she pushed the tit meat into the mouth so she lowered her hips and as she did that so the twins 'allowed' her orgasm to spill over. They took turns to swipe her clitoris tip with their tongues and as the orgasm reached its height Dorothea squirted – such was the intense pressure produced by the building up and the release of the orgasm, the squirt was jet like and into the eager upturned mouths of the twins. Their tongue extended up and hover, fluttering over the clitoris tip like humming birds but at the same time their mouths wide open and taking the ejaculated juices of Dorothea into their mouth. They seemed able with ease to be able to taste the juices and yet at the same time keep the fluttering of the tongue tips equal and over the clit tip driving Dorothea to the point of madness – but not quite. She like these dreams – in these dreams, in her mind she was in charge she was in control and she was getting all of the pleasure without any of the mind numbing horrors that she got in real life. She wished she could exist in these dreams all the time because she could live with that. The pleasure that she controlled. She held her breath and orgasmed – wave after wave of pure pleasure, intense pleasure and squirt after squirt of her juices into the mouths of the twins. The twins just taking it in turns to feed from her – their tongues fluttering almost too quickly, too fast that they were nothing but a blur and yet the constant swallowing of juices. The throats rolling with the swallow – the swallow seemingly never ending. Dorothea dipping her tits, and squatting. Dipping and squatting – and then the spasming as the orgasm reached its utter height – once it had reached its super intensity that spasming that absolute display of the fact that it wasn't Dorothea in control at all. This was simply a comfort zone that she was allowed to exist in, for the time being. She would be allowed these dreams – permitted to exist within them for the time being – just so that she could be taken further and further along in the process. Just so that she could be taken to where she needed to be. She squirmed and wept through the most intense part of her orgasm. And then she woke up.
Chapter Three
It was Jugs' turn to smile inwardly. She was in. As far as she was concerned she had passed the biggest test yet – she had got passed that mental bitch Hooter Tutor. She had made her pitch and ok, it hadn't gone all smoothly, but she had got there in the end. It might have looked a bit suspicious had she got her pleading begging pitch dead right, word perfect, pitch and tone perfect from the start. She had to look desperate and to do that she had to make mistakes and she had. She had to stumble over her words and she had done that as well. It had gone up and it had gone down – she had thought she was in, and then that feeling had been snatched away from her – then she felt 'up' again – and then that was snatched away – just taken away from her. She was back in though – that was the main thing. She was in and relatively her sane mind was in one piece. Ok, ok, the sanity in her had been, was being, forced to the back – forced to take a back seat in her mind as it were, but it was there. When the time was right she could call on those 'sane' resources and make the break for it. That’s what she would do – that was what made her smile inside – that thought, the one of escape and possible retribution for the animals that had done this to her, were doing this to her – that was what
gave her the warm fuzzy feeling inside. The silktex – oh yes the silktex – Jugs had even got the fooling of that fucking alien stuff down to a T. How she saw it, and how it appeared to be was that as long as the silktex could sense that warm fuzzy feeling, it would be taken and treated as positivity and it would react in and around her as such. It would feel the warm fuzziness and even sense that inward smile of Dorothea's, but it would know the 'reason' for that feeling or that positivity. It was as though it took it for granted that she was being positive because of the predicament and the life she was now leading. In many ways Dorothea was fooling herself. She was fooling herself on several levels. The silktex was unpredictable – sometimes the warm fuzziness and the inward smiles were taken as she imagined it and they were being taken – but other times it was as though the silktex itself was being a bit suspicious, asking questions like as though it thought that it was all a bit too good to be true. In many ways it was like the silktex, like Dorothea, or Jugs was a work in progress. Like it was being perfected but wasn't quite there. And sometimes, just sometimes it was working as it should work – all the little bits and pieces falling and slithering into place and that false warm fuzziness was being treated as it should have been, with suspicion – tightening around her feminine insides, just constricting them a little. Dorothea couldn't see that – in a way she was just grateful that she had enough of her mind left – that little bit that she could call on when the time was right. Because it was that little bit that would see her right. It was that little bit that was left that would mean that when the time was right she could make her bid for freedom and just get the holy fuck out of this mad place. It meant that she could haul the hugeness of her udders over her shoulders and high tail it right out of that madhouse – get the fuck out of there. In the meantime though she had to play along. Poor Dorothea – she may have had that little piece of her mind left – she may have even been able to give out little signs of rebellion from time to time – but the fact that she may have been severely deluded could have been escaping her – escaping her completely. That she was 'happy' that she had been accepted back into Hooter School, in itself was a cause for concern. She maybe could not see that in order to make that escape bid, in order to even have the chance of that freedom that made her all warm and fuzzy inside meant that she was being taken deeper into the Hell that Wendy had introduced her to all that time ago. However long all that time ago was, because time seemed to not mean much anymore. It seemed that she might have been missing the bigger picture. She might have been missing the fact that in order to even get to the point where an escape bid was possible, a little bit more of that small piece of sanity that she had left was being eroded away. It was like she wasn't seeing that. She wasn't taking into consideration that the longer and further down this road, or the more of this journey that she made, the resolve was being eroded more and more.
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