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"Let's have an asshole-eating competition this morning," Barb said
as she looked over at me from her pillow.
It was the kind of thing she'd say. "I don't think so," I said
sharply, or as sharply as I could with the morning's grogginess in my voice.
I needed to pee, and get my thoughts together before I could properly reply
to her usual barrage of rude suggestions, designed to make me melt into a
puddle of lust and do anything she wanted.
"Aw, c'mon," she said, snuggling closer to me. "Don't you like the
idea of sticking your tongue up my asshole? Wiggling it around, feeling me
squirm and moan?" Her hand crept across my breast, and I could feel her hump
the blankets between us.
"Not particularly." I rolled over before her hand could get a grip
on my nipple and melt my grumpiness. "Excuse me, please, dear." I got up and
stalked into the bathroom, relieved myself, brushed my teeth and washed the
scum off my face, and felt much more human. I came back into the bedroom and
flopped back down on the bed, thinking about all the hundreds of things I
could do today besides sex. Or trying to, anyway.
"So what about my offer?" Barb was watching me from her side of the
bed, eyes glittering with mischief.
"Only if you get an enema first," I snapped with annoyance.
"OK," she said. "I'll have one if you'll have one." She grinned
again and rolled over, wiggling her toes and her butt, and I gave in. A
little, anyway.
"All right." Grudgingly. "But breakfast first."
"Enemas work better if you're empty. Less cramping." She narrowed
her eyes at me. "You ever given one before?" she asked.
"Nope."
"Taken one?"
"Nope." I tried to sound nonchalant, not grim. "You?"
"Yes and yes. I'll show you what to do. I'll even go first," she
said innocently, as if I didn't know what she was planning. I could tell
from the first word out of her mouth that she wanted to be in charge today,
and she could tell from my reluctance that I wanted to be seduced, led
along, forced if necessary. It's a complex game we play. I wouldn't trust
anyone else to be skilled enough to read the meaning behind my rebuffs and
prevarication. I mean, I want to be a wanton slut sometimes, but it takes a
while for me to get there. Barb knows. She just grinned at me when I avoided
her touch again. She'd wait.

"Now grease the nozzle real good," she said from her position on
all fours in the bathtub. "Got it? OK, keep one hand on that clamp on the
tube. I think I can take the whole thing, but be ready to clamp it off in
case I can't."
I spread her ass with one hand, trying to find her hole with the
plastic thing in my other one. She gasped when it went in, and then groaned
when I released the clamp and heard the rush of water. I was beginning to
have second thoughts. If this could make her groan, I might be in trouble.
Barb's a world-class masochist, the beat-me-black-and-blue type. That can be
a real turn-on, when I'm the one in charge and she's sucking on my stiletto
heels while getting whipped, but it's a bit intimidating when it's her turn.
I can take a little pain if I have to, but I don't like it all that much,
and I'm not even remotely in her league.
The bag emptied and she stayed there for a moment, groaning. I
wondered if she was okay, and tried to help her up. "C'mon, honey, let's get
you to the toilet," I said, hefting her up. It was only a minute later,
while I was washing my hands, that I realized she was waiting to give me one
last chance to turn the tables. She's good that way. It wasn't her fault
that I'd missed it.
Barb washed her crack carefully and then turned to me with an evil
smile on her face. "Your turn, babe," she said so sweetly that I could
almost forget what was going to happen. I climbed into the tub awkwardly,
the porcelain hard and cold under my knees, and leaned forward. Barb messed
about, getting things, filling the rubber bag with more hot water from the
sink. I didn't look. I was testing what it felt like just to kneel there,
like one would test a sore tooth with your tongue. Barb leaps into this
stuff, topping and bottoming both, with the enthusiasm of a white-water
rafter, but I have to ease myself in like the kid at the beach who can't
swim. The tub floor was slippery against my hanging nipples, and I knew my
knees would ache if I was kept there for too long. I hoped she wouldn't do
that. I also knew I'd stay there until she told me to get up. Once I make up
my mind, it stays made up.
"Ready, sweetie?" She was still being nice to me, gentling me
along. I felt her spread my ass and probe with a lube-coated finger, and I
got instantly wet, arching up my tailbone, like a cat in heat. She noticed,
but didn't take advantage of it, not yet. I was silently grateful. Then she
slid the nozzle in - it wasn't very big at all - and I felt a sudden rush of
very warm water going inside me. I yelled, more out of surprise than pain,
and then in real pain as I instinctively clamped my muscles down and it
hurt, it really hurt. "Relax," I heard her order, and after a moment of
pain, I did it. Fat girls like me train ourselves to go around with our
stomachs held in, just to get that extra inch smaller. It seems somehow
sinful to let your gut hang down all the way, but that's what I was being
forced to do. I watched my belly swell almost pregnantly between my big
tits, me breathing hard and biting my lip. then she clamped it and the flow
trickled off.
"How's that, honey?" she asked, an edge of malice in her voice.
"Not too bad, I hope?" I responded with an incoherent groan and she laughed.
"Now I'm going to pull this out for just a second, and I want you to hold it
in. Just for a second. You can hold it that long; I don't want you to spray
the bathroom with shit."
I nodded. I could hold it long enought to get to the toilet and
dump it, really I could. And I was eager to. I'd have crawled there. But no
sooner had the nozzle come out than something larger was thrust in, holding
the water in place. "Aaugh!" I yelled, recognizing the pink buttplug we've
used so many times before. "Barb, no! I have to let this out! Stop it!"
"Giving orders, are we?" There was a hard slap on my ass that
rocked me back and forth, breasts and swollen belly swinging like pendulums.
"I'm not done with you yet, girl."
"Barb, no." I don't know why I was trying to reason with her. It
made no sense at all. I could just get up and go, and she wouldn't stop me.
I didn't. "Barb, I can't! I can't! Don't-" My voice scaled upward and then
was muffled abruptly as she reached down and shoved a gag into my mouth.
It's the one I like best, the small cock-gag of hard rubber that I can bite
down on as hard as I need and not break my teeth. That gag calms me, makes
me feel better. Since I can't yell anyway now, there's no point in it. When
you're a verbal, articulate person like me, there's something terribly
comforting about being robbed of your power of speech. When we're doing a
scene where I'm acting defiant, Barb will sometimes make me put it on
myself, making me lock it with the padlock that hangs just behind my ear,
forcing me to mute myself.
She had fastened it with a cliplink this time, which meant that it
would only be in for a little while, not hours. She's done that too, made me
clean the house locked into the gag, with the buttplug up my ass and rubber
bands around my nipples, a frilly dress over top of it. So far no one's come
to the door. "There," she said, stroking me like an animal she's gentling,
"that's better, isn't it?" Her fingers stroked my now very wet cunt, and in
spite of the pressure I arched up into her hand. She rubbed my clit for a
moment and then insered something into my cunt. It's the little egg
vibrator, the one we never use because I'm such a size queen and like big
ones. Now that I was filled with water, though, it seemed huge. She turned
it on and I was filled with vibration as well, shaking all the water in my
bowels until I felt like screaming, or coming, or both, I couldn't tell.
She slapped my ass, reached down and pinched my nipples. "All
right, Titties," she said, "come for me. You don't get to shit until you
come, Titties." I almost came from hearing her say that. It's a special
scene name, not for public use. I don't want anyone else to hear it, for it
to be defiled by their lips. Titties isn't me. Titties is a slut who begs to
be fucked, who would do anything, no matter how degrading. (Well, almost
anything.) Titties is Barb's special pet, and no one else gets to see or
know her. She's a gift, for both of us.
Barb tickled my clit, and I came, groaning and shaking and
contracting around the vibrator and plug. I felt a kind of triumph at being
able to come in spite of the bowel discomfort, or maybe because of it. She
let me up, then, slowly, and helped me over to the toilet, where I was
relived of the egg and the buttplug and allowed to empty myself. I sat
passively, gagged and unmoving, as she played with my breasts, squeezing and
fondling them; then she pulled me up and carefully cleaned my asshole with a
washcloth. "You're not quite clean yet," she announced. "You need another
load." And ignoring my whine, she propelled my only slightly resisting body
back to the tub for another hot bagful of water.

Half an hour later, I was kneeling on the bed, clean inside and
out, my hands cuffed behind me. Barb was messing around with my breasts again. I used to be ashamed of them, huge floppy watermelon lumps that they
are. I used to be ashamed of my whole body, of the wide hips and big ass and
great rounded belly, the thighs that are the size of many women's waists.
But she takes so much delight in my billowing flesh, whether it's worshiping
every square foot with her tongue while she's chained to the bed, or tying
up, kneading, slapping, and generally having her way with it when I've gone
under for her, that it's given me back a feeling of desirability. Now she
was tying up my tits with a long rope she'd washed in fabric softener for
this very purpose. It seemed like a weird thing to do when she first
suggested it, but I quickly became enamored of the way they feel when she's
wrapped several tight, tight loops of rope around them in a figure-eight so
they stand out like globes. It looks like it should hurt terribly, but it
doesn't; it makes them incredibly sensitive. Barb knew this, and gave me a
little slap, making me jump and squeak.
She ground her thigh between my legs, smirking. "Titties likes
this, doesn't she? Titties wants her big slutty titties tied up and hurt."
She grabbed me by the chin and undid my gag. "Tell me how much you like it,
Titties."
Oh, shit. I hate this part. I also need it. "Yes, Mistress," I
whispered, feeling like an absolute fool and grinding my crotch desperately
against her leg, I was so horny. "Please punish my tits, Mistress. hurt them." I pause, take a deep breath. "Hurt my big fat slutty titties."

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I don't know why my cunt should be this wet hearing her talk like
that to me, hearing myself say those humiliating things. I mean, it doesn't
make any sense. If a man said those things to me, I'd want to kill him, I'd
want to get my hands around his throat and strangle the life out of him.
Coming out of her mouth, they turn me into a sex puppy faster than you can
say coprolalia. I still don't understand why.
Maybe it has something to do with trust. Barb's proven to me beyond
a shadow of a doubt that what she says to Titties has nothing to do with
what she thinks of me.
"Let's see those titties bounce for me," she said. I swung them
back and forth the best I could with my hands behind me. They didn't bounce
as well with the ropes around them, but I got some good jiggles in. Titties
is a total slut. My god, she'll do anything. Disgusting.
"All right, then," she said, and gagged me again. I breathed a sigh
of relief, and then yelped because a short red plastic flogger had appeared
in her hand and was making red marks come up across my bound tits, one two,
one two. In spiute of myself, I scrambled backwards, and she grabbed me by
the hair and continued to work them over until I felt like my jaw was going
to crack from biting into the hard rubber. One second before the edge of my
endurance, one hair before I would have safed (three evenly spaced grunts)
she stops, leaving me practically hyperventilating. I'm really not good at
pain. Sometimes I wish she wouldn't insist on it. I'm glad she does.
"Baby, baby," she croons, stroking my welts, "you know why I have
to hurt you like this. It isn't because I don't love you, or that you've
been bad. It's just that it makes me hot, baby. You know that." I nodded,
rubbing my head mutely against her shoulder, an animal's gesture. I knew.
She must have been wet to the knees by now. I decided to make her even
wetter, and I bent forward until my face was mashed into my tits on the bed,
and wiggled my ass. She laughed and slid a finger up across my cunt.
"Somebody wants to get fucked," she says evilly. "Does Titties want to get
fucked?"
I wiggled my ass as hard as I'd swung my frontal mounds earlier. It
was pure Mafia porn, pure trash, garbage, I told myself. You don't have to
be doing this. Yes, you do, said my cunt. I felt Barb's lips against my
butt, high in the air, and then she worked her tongue into my ass, warm and
wet and slippery. I made a noise of pure pleasure and pressed back into her
face. She got her tongue in as far as it would go and then started sucking on the delicate ring of flesh surrounding it. What would my mother think if
she could have seen me now? She thinks we're average ordinary dykes with two
dogs and three cats and a lizard, nice lesbians who vote Democrat and
recycle their trash and wouldn't be caught dead tied up with their tongues
up each others' butts.
I closed my eyes in pleasure, but as soon as I started to think
about coming she moved away and started greasing me up with fingers and
serious lube. I adjusted my knees and sighed happily. Titties loves to get
fucked in the ass. Well, actually, so do I. When I dropped my last boyfriend
and took up girls, the one thing I missed was cock. I couldn't admit it, of
course; how could you say to a woman you're sleeping with that you really
miss having a dick in bed with you? The irony was that I didn't particularly
miss the men who had been attached to them, any of them. I just couldn't
seem to get over the idea that sex was supposed to climax with something
large and hard shoved into your orifices. Any of them. All of them. I'd been
a real cock-slut as a het girl. I used to lie awake fantasizing about making
it with three men at once, wishing my boyfriend would have let that happen.
The first time I went home with Barb, she showed me her dildo
collection - twenty of them - and the look on my face must have been an
instant neon sign, because she had me on the bed with my skirt hiked up,
stuffed full, in no time. Barb was even more into cock than I was, and she
had even less use for men. She just loved shoving things in women, including
herself. She could come just from watching me deepthroat a Jeff Stryker
realistic model or shove a black plastic shiny thing up my rear end. It's
not fashionable to be a dyke and be so obsessed with penetration. Some of
our friends would be horrified. The idea made me even wetter.
Greased and ready, I kept myself as loose as possible while she
slowly worked a good-size cock into my ass. I moaned and cried our and
fantasized being raped, and she finally got it in with a lot of lube and
care. The big ones hurt more going in, but once they've been in a while my
ass loosens up to take them easily, and if we'd used a smaller one I'd be
begging to replace it. Barb's teased me about being a size queen. She found
another one, and, working my clit with her hand, squeezed it into my cunt. I
love the feeling of being filled; it's satisfying, like a good dinner. She
worked them back and forth, first alternating, then shoving them both in and
out with one hand. Pushing them all the way in, she asked, "Think you can
keep them there, babe?"
I nodded, and she flipped me over into my back. "Keep those legs
spread, Titties," she admonished, giving me a warning slap on that part of
my anatomy, which were still bound and sensitive from the recent beating. I
squeaked again. She undid the gag and kissed me, letting me rest my jaw
while she slid her tongue around my lips and teeth. "Fresh from your
asshole, Titties," she whispered to me. "You have one tasty asshole, girl.
And now it's your turn. Remember what we're supposed to be doing? Think you
can prove to me that Titties is a better ass-licker than her Mistress?"
I moved my lips, trying to tell her that Titties will lick anything
Mistress wants, any time, but I couldn't get the words out his time. She
watched me closely for a moment as I struggled and looked at her pleadingly,
but there was no pity in her eyes. "OK, babe," she said. "If that's the way
it's gonna have to be." She leaned over the edge of the bed, out of my field
of view, and then came back up with nipple clamps on a chain. The evil ones
wih the alligator clips.
I suddenly found I could speak, but the wrong thing came out. "Oh,
shit," I said, and I tried to get away across the bed, which isn't easy when
you're tied up and stuffed full of cocks. She dropped the clamps, grabbed me
by my hair, and smacked me good and hard across the face. Immediately I went
limp in her grasp, whimpering. Pretty sick, isn't it, to get off on having
your face slapped? Once she did it fourteen times in a row, really fast, and
Titties came. Titties is a sick fuck. Really.
Barb grabbed one tit and pinched the nipple, twisting it and
getting it hard, and then snapped on the clamp before I could really take
advantage of the sensation. Then the other side. Then she smacked me again.
"Say it," she said, yanking on the chain.
I was so turned on it didn't really hurt, but the point wasn't to
punish me into talking with pain. It was just to put me into a state where I
could get past my inhibitions and just spit out whatever Mistress wanted.
"Let me lick your asshole, Mistress!" someone yelled, writhing around on the
bed. It couldn't be me. I'd never say anything like that. "Please, Mistress,
let Titties lick your sweet asshole clean!" Yup, it was her, that traitorous
slut. And she was getting her wish, too; Barb was straddling my head, facing
my tits, and then she spread her ass cheeks with her hands and plopped down
onto my face. Titties leaped right in, of course, like the disgusting bitch
she is; licked and sucked and snuffled around as if she was starving and
Barb's hole was breakfast. Which you could say it was.
Barb hauled up on the nipple clamp chain with one hand while the
other one worked at her clit as hard as it could, and I felt her come, felt
her sphincter clamp around my tongue. I'd done it before, thorugh a dental
dam, once when we were first dating, but now that we were partners I was
able to get right into her most intimate orifice, up close and personal.
You're insane, I told Titties. She ignored me and kept on licking.
"Oh, baby!" Barb yelled as she came. "You win the contest! You are
the best ass-licker in the lower 48! Oh, yeah!" She wiggled her buns on my
face jsut a little longer for good measure, and then got off, wiping me
considerately with a discarded towel.
"Please, Mistress," I said around the towel. Get it over with now.
"Titties wants to come. Please?" My clit throbbed so much that it hurt, and
every time I moved the cocks in my lower holes slid a little further out,
and I couldn't get them to go back in. Barb noticed that, and shoved them
both back in with a jerk that made me gasp. "Please!" I moaned. I swear,
Titties has no shame.
"You're being awfully mouthy, Titties," she said with mock
disapproval, even though I could almost feel her cunt clench as hard as my
own. "Maybe I should get something to shut you up."
"Oh, yes, Mistress." I sighed in relief. Barb dived over the edge
of the bed again and came up with a third cock, a little smaller than the
others. Fortunately. "Suck it, Titties," she said, moving the pillow under
my head forward to my shoulders so that my head was tilted back slightly. I
opened my mouth obediently, and she slid it in, slowly at first, letting me
lick up and down the shaft showily and suck it. At the same time, she
reached down and started to move the other two in and out of my ass and
cunt, with the same slow rhythm. It drove me crazy. I tried to move my hips
to speed up the thrusts, but she'd pull them out almost all the way and stop
if I did that, so I moaned in frustration around the one in my mouth and
matched my hips to her slow strokes. She speeded up, which was harder on my
throat but heaven on my swollen crotch. She was gong to let me come this
time. I caught a glimpse of her around the hand that held the cock I was
deepthroating. Her eyes wer glazed, flicking back and forth from my face to
my crotch, where both her hands were busy. She wouldn't need hands to come
from watching me. You are one sick bitch, baby. Almost as sick as me, and I
love you for it.
"Cocksucker," she moaned, her chest heaving. "Cocksucking buttslut!
Fuck that ass - yeah - fuck -" And then, as I came, I felt her thrusts
become more erratic and she shoved the dildoes all the way in, all three
holes at once. The molded balls on the one I was sucking slapped me in the
face,a nd I held my breath, glad I had crested the peak before my air was
cut off. My hips were still bucking and pulsing from the tingling waves that
washed over me.
Abruptly, she pulled them all out; mouth, cunt, asshole. She tossed
them over the edge of the bed, where she would retrive them later and
lovingly wash them, and gathered me in her aarms. The nipple clamps brushed
her own chubby tits, and I cried out. Almost solicitously, she removed them,
and held me through the long sob of pain. "I should have taken them off
already," she chided herself, but her eyes were glinting with pleasure at
seeing me yell. I know that look all too well. "I'll untie you in just a
second," she said, stroking my hair.
"No hurry," I mumbled into her shoulder. When she untied me, it'd
be over. "No hurry at all, Mistress." Then I squinted up at her. "Next time
I'm gonna make you suck my strap-on till your lips are bruised, and put
clothespins on every inch of your body. You know that, don't you?"
"Promises, promises," she said dismissively, but her eyes were dancing.