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Swimming With Sharks

Published by Wicked Jocelyn on September 4, 2020

Hey Readers. This story is a non-magical, non-horror erotic story. I hope you enjoy it!

The Las Vegas airport never heard the word subtly. Slot machines clutter the waiting areas as if invasions from the casinos themselves. Allison walked beside me and between those slots. She cringed at an older couple cranking at the one armed bandits.

“Those machines are so antisocial,” she whispered.

That’s my Allison. Always out for the connection. It’s music festivals and spiritual retreats for her. Which is why it took so much convincing to get her to join me and another couple. Susan and her boyfriend Greg carried their matching luggage together. I’d known them since sophomore year of college. Allison and I met on a dating site for curious women.

“Poker is social,” I added. It’s my preferred way to play.

“Isn’t it a little adversarial, Rachel?” Allison said.

“But in a fun way!” I said.

I took my girlfriend’s hand. Her fingers intertwined with mine, making that familiar warmth. Her large, dark brown eyes, looked at me for an intense second. Allison was mystical, mysterious, and dangerous all at the same time. That’s what attracted me months ago. I’d never dated another woman before her. We’d been doing this for six months and we loved it.

“And there’s lots of other fun to be had here too, right?” she hinted.

“Yes. Clubs. Shows. We’re going to have a good time, I promise.”

The strip overwhelmed all of us as our rental van slogged through the traffic. We passed a casino that advertised dancers, gambling, and sex toys all under one roof. Allison smirked subtly at an advertisement for a porn star’s lessons in pegging video.

“Would you ever do that, Rachel?” she said.

“Do what?”

“Top a guy with a strap on dildo,” she said. “I hear it’s orgasms on a whole different level for him.”

“How so?”

“I wouldn’t let just anyone do that to me,” she said. “If I found someone ready to take it like that, then that’s pretty special.”

“Hmm.. Oh and I bet you’d feel like a complete boss bitch doing it too, right Allison?” I chided.

She blushed.

“Maybe that too.”

Our group made it to our resort hotel. Once in our room, we showered off the afternoon sweat together and reclined half dressed until the sun went down. Then, we hit the black jack tables. Allison played like her bets were her cover. She never made much more than the minimum, and chatted with Greg and Susan. We met other tourists there, and one local: An aspiring pro poker player by them name of Eddie Silva. I watched him for any subtle tells. I sensed he watched me in return. I fiddle with my bracelet when I anticipate a good hand. It’s lame. He had to have caught it, which is why I chickened out and folded. Eddie won.

“You’re good,” Eddie said. “This isn’t your first time.”

“Nope,” I smiled. Allison put her cards down, happy to be rid of the betting. “I’d go pro if I lived here. You better watch out.”

“Oh? You’d like another game?” he said. He indicated to a group clearing out a poker table right then. Oh, yes, I had to do this, especially after that fold. All I had to do was get rid of my stupid tell and I could clean everyone out.

“I think I’d like that,” I said. I turned to Allison and our friends.

“Allison?” I whispered. “Would you hold my bracelet? For like, an hour?”

“You’re not coming to the club?” she said.

“I am, but not yet,” I said. “I wanna see what I can do.”

“Okay,” said Allison. “See you in an hour?”

“Yes!” I said. We shared a quick kiss. “I won’t let you third wheel for long.”

She left to the club. I sat down at a poker table with a handsome local. Alone, and outnumbered, I readied myself to swim with the sharks. Let me tell you, it’s fun. Too much fun. Once I entered this poker shark head-space. It literally flows like I’m swimming. I watched the older Asian man eye my cleavage. Eddie Silva held his chin up ever so slightly when he was dealt that third card. Another woman, a charming British lady, looked jet lagged. Yes, I learned the tells. With no bracelet to fidget with, I noticed myself squeezing my feet together at the good hands. Eddie caught that tell too.

But then I caught one of his.

When Eddie gets confident, he lets down his guard and orders a drink. Then he stirs it.

The Asian man tried to buy his way out of a bluff, and fattened the pot. It forced me to put more in than I had planned, ignoring the buzzing of my phone. Eddie though wasn’t intimidated and the Asian man backed down like the sleepy Brit. It was down to me and Eddie in that last hand. I bluffed my way into a win. A huge one. Over a thousand dollars on my first night. You know what? I’d just beat a semi pro.

“She’s good!” said Eddie. “Let me get you something to celebrate that.”

“Sure! Umm…” I pulled my phone out of the purse. Shit. I’d been playing for almost two hours.

“I uh… I’m sorry,” I said. “I promised I’d only play for a single hour…”

Eddie looked hurt. The Korean man was disappointed too.

“You’ve all been great. Rematch soon!” I said. It hadn’t been the most gracious exit. Though dammit, I’d sorta broken a promise here.

It’s good to be a girl. It’s even better to be a girl with cash sometimes. There was the usual line of pretty people outside of a club, but I walked up to the bouncer and bribed him. “I have to meet my girlfriend,” I emphasized. He understood and let me through. Once past the door, the glitz of animated screens strobe lights beckoned me in. Shuffling around, I got my way to the bar and found my way to Greg, Susan, and Allison.

“Allison!” I said. “Oh my god! Top shelf on me right now, okay!”

“Yeah?” she said.

“Yes, come on!”

I told her how I totally killed it on poker. How I’d beaten a semi pro, and how I’d become flush with cash.

“Good. I’m happy for you,” sighed Allison. We ordered some fancy vodka drinks from the bar and then danced. Allison moved close enough to keep others away. Still, she didn’t really dance with me.

“Hey,” I said. I leaned into kiss her. Her lips touched in rote acceptance. “What’s up?”

“You said you only be an hour, Rachel,” she said.

“I know… but it happens. I got caught up in it,” I began. Oh god, no this wasn’t the right way. It was all over her eyes. Allison and I loved to dance, and I loved to dance with her. Though now we weren’t connected and it was my fault. “Allison… I’m sorry I broke my promise to you, not even one day into this trip and I’m messing this up.”

“Yes,” she said.

“You’re upset,” I said.

“You left me the third wheel,” she added. “Why?”

It’s far too hard to whisper shouts to each other’s ears like that. Allison and I moved to the restroom of the club. We had to talk it out in there, as awkward as it was. Listening about how she’d kept guys away embarrassed me. What made it even worse is that Allison knew that I loved to play and had supported me in it all night. She didn’t like how I would forget things, and forget her, when I’m swimming with the sharks at the table. It’s too good to become the master in a game like that.

“Okay, I’ve messed it up,” I said. “We’ll do something different tomorrow. I promise.”

Allison looked at me.

“Not quite,” she said. “We’ll do something different tonight.”

Allison held out her palm.

“Share some of the cash with me first,” she said.

“Okay…” I said. I placed several hundred in her palm.

“Okay, now let’s get a cab…” she said.

Leashing me with her pace, Allison led me out of the maze of the casino, into a cab, and into the sex shop we had passed by before. Exploring toys didn’t take much time for her. She picked out a few things by intuition alone. My cash left Allison’s hands, and then she took us back to our hotel. We held hands the whole ride back. When she kissed me in that ride, it assured me our spat was resolving.

Entering the hotel room made both of us wet, and Allison’s brown eyes focused on me. She tugged at my dress in a way that felt like a command. One I obeyed. We made out right there in the hallway, getting a feel for one another’s body heat.

“I want you naked,” said Allison. “Will you do that?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Get on the bed then,” she said. “While I open the toys.”

“Which ones?”

“I’ll choose,” she said.

I stripped myself. Allison tossed a blindfold mask at me. I put it on and lay there to the sound of tearing, cracking, and snipping of plastic containers. Touching followed those sounds, as did a shift of weight on the bed. Allison lay on top of me, the cups of her bra touched my bare nipples.

“We’re going to play now. I’m going to give you something new,” she said.

“Okay,” I sighed.

“Turn over for me.”

On my belly, I gave my hips to Allison’s control. Spanking whapped hard on my ass. Both cheeks were clenched in turn, then a cold drip of something came down towards my hole. Something pressed to it. It stretched my hole open, painful at first, then I relaxed against its pressure and it felt so nice.

“Oh god, Allison,” I said. “What is that?”

“Me plugging your hole,” she said. “You like that?”

“Yes!”

“Good,” she said. “Next toy is for me. Open wide.”

I did. The next thing that entered there had the familiar shape of a penis. Allison affixed it in place with straps around my cheek and a solid buckle round my head.

“Feel this?” She took my hand and placed it over my gag. A dildo extended upwards. I muttered yes through my restraint.

“It’s a cock,” she said. She dripped lube onto it, and some trickled to my chin. “I’m going to ride your face, Rachel. You like that?”

I nodded. Everything remained dark under that blindfold. Rocking moved the mattress while Allison took position. Oh that scent! The wetness of her pussy hovered near my face. Then, she inserted that dildo into her sweet smelling self. I pressed up, pushing in and out of my lover’s pussy. Allison moaned and winced for it, enjoying the penetration.

“That’s so good, Rachel. Keep moving,” she sighed. “I like having my pussy over you like this…”

Allison took it more and the heat of her juices simmered over me. “I’m going to ride it now,” she gasped. She guided my head down, and then started thumping her hips down hard. She pleased herself on top of me, and I endured the drips of her pussy’s sweet moisture. Dominating me thrilled Allison. I could tell because the sounds she made I’d never heard before. It made me hot too, and when she orgasmed, I clenched against that plug. I literally had no idea I’d like it that much!

Allison rolled off from me. Panting in my ear, she cuddled next to me. Then she undid my blindfold and gag. She overwhelmed me with a series of kisses at my neck and then locked her lips to mine and we touched one another’s tongues. Her fingers caressed my pussy lips, and I exhaled in release.

“Are you ready for the next toy?” she said.

“You got more?”

“Just one more,” she said. She got up and got out of the last of her underwear. She grabbed a huge magic wand vibrator, its pulsating bulb large enough for us to share. My legs opened and we scissored. We held that pulsing vibrator between us, dizzy with lust. That vibe on my pussy brought me to another level thanks to the plug in my other hole. We pressed our hips together and struggled to keep hold of our vibrator. After climaxing more and more, we fell over exhausted.

“Rachel,” she said as we cuddled. “You won’t forget about me again will you?”

“How could I?” I said.

“Good.”

We slept until the afternoon and then took a lunch out with Susan and Greg at an above ground pool. Swimming, splashing, and simply sun bathing turned out to be the perfect way to pass the afternoon Vegas heat. I got a text message during that time. It was from Eddie.

“Who’s that?” said Allison.

“It’s umm…” I was tempted to hide it but no way. “It’s Eddie. The guy I played with. He wants a rematch soon.”

“Oh?” said Allison. Her eyes still hidden behind sunglasses.

I read the next few texts. An local channel amateur poker night would be shared online later. He had brought in to the game with a friend, who got sick and now there was an extra slot. I touched my chest, sensing my heart beat faster.

“You want to do this,” Allison said.

“I know, but I promised you that we’d see Steampunk Whimsy Burlesque tonight,” I said.

“So tell him,” said Allison.

The next text I wrote was more for Allison than for Eddie. I told him that I’d be out with my girlfriend, and we definitely had tickets. We knew the show would last until nine at least that night.

“I wish I could go, but I have a commitment,” I finished my text. Allison smiled back at me for posting that.

There was a pause on Eddie’s end.

“Come to the early game then,” he replied. He shared the location. Same Casino where Steampunk Whimsy would be performing.

Allison read the message too. I definitely wanted a chance, and she knew that.

“I want you to have fun,” she said. “Will you do something to keep me in mind though?”

“Anything, Allison,” I said.

Allison motioned for me to follow to the shower room near the pool. She guided me to a stall and we soaped away the chlorine from our skin. Focused on her, we enjoyed the steam and I was ready to have sex with her and get caught if necessary. She pushed me away.

“Hold that thought,” she whispered. “Can you turn around again? Put your hands on the wall?”

“Like this?” I posed like a suspect in a cop show.

“Yes!”

Allison left the shower and returned. I dared not move. Tickling lube slipped down my tail bone, and Allison pushed a finger in. Next? I gasped as the plug stretched me once more.

“Oh!” I whimpered. “You had that handy?”

“Kept it in my purse,” Allison replied. “Thought we might need it. Are you focused?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Okay,” she said. “Go down on me now.”

She hardly needed to ask me. I squatted before her in that tiny stall. Her hips bucked forward to me and I tasted my girlfriend. Allison’s face beamed with pride and contentment as I worked my tongue up and down her outer lips. She moaned softly when I suckled at her clit. Before long, we heard whispering outside our stall of other women coming in, and neither of us cared. I penetrated Allison with a finger and coaxed more pleasure with each curl. Allison gasped, suppressing her orgasmic cries, and she came right there in that hot shower.

Later, I made it to the early game, with Allison’s support. You know what? Playing poker at a casino is one thing. Playing with an audience around the table and some cameras on you is a whole different level of intensity. I wonder, if that had been the actual reason why Eddie had invited me to play here. Examining him for any signs taught me nothing, and so our game began with two other amateur players. My mind slipped into the flow of the game. Betting and calling came as natural as every breath. No bracelet of mine provided tells them time either, and the pot grew fat. Nothing except the game mattered, and my world became no larger than that table. Even the cameras faded from my conscious mind.

That’s when my butt plug buzzed. I let out a sharp puff of air. Eddie glanced at me for a nanosecond. Dammit, in that moment I forgot what I was doing. The pulsation changed. Instead of a steady buzz, it now turned on and off with the rhythm of a bass drum. What distracted me most, was how it aroused me.

I pushed more chips into the pot, but why? Oh man, my cards! I didn’t think I could go forth with a hand like this and Allison didn’t even tell me that the plug buzzed.

“Alright, I’m still in,” said Eddie. The next player didn’t fold either. We revealed our cards.

Stupid. My hand was so weak it was easily beaten. Eddie collected the wins, and a clock struck for a break. The other players cleared the table and I sat there dumbfounded for a few seconds hiding my lustful reaction to Allison’s buzzing.

In the break area I went to Allison, not sure if I was to beg her to remove the plug or vibe me until I orgasmed. Frustrating.

“Allison,” I said. “I… I didn’t know it could do that.”

“It’s fun,” she said. “I saw you liked it.”

I blushed.

“I lost that bet though!” I said. “It took me out of my flow. I can win this Allison, please no more, okay?”

“Can you remember me when you’re flowing?”

I was stunned by the bold vulnerability in her face, and even more shamed when I knew the answer to that question. If I’m playing there, I’m forgetting everything. I’m forgetting to keep promises and likely going to forget that we’re going to see Steampunk Whimsy tonight. I might lose this damn game, and on camera too.

“I may need a reminder,” I said. My breath grew heavier, like I wanted her to strip me and put a vibrator on my pussy once more.

“Then we’re keeping it in.”

My next round began as the first. Eddie sensed something different in me. It’s one thing to discard the things you may fidget with. It’s another to prepare yourself for a spike in anal pleasure. The first few hands were tepid. None of us were getting ahead, then I noticed Eddie watching the other two players like a gunslinger. He had something, and waited to use it.

Or he was baiting me? I didn’t know.

That’s when the buzzing interrupted my flow again. This time, I accepted it, exhaling evenly, in time with waves of those beautiful vibrations. Then, fuck, Allison changed the pattern once more. Shaking, I put more money in the pot. Oh god, all I wanted to do was win and then come, but in that order. Clenching my core against the pleasure, I kept my best poker face despite the excitement within.

I was wet. I held my thighs together which only clenched on the plug harder.

“Rachel? You in?” said another player.

I looked to my hand, and hid my confidence.

“I’m in,” I replied in a breathy tone.

“It’s only a game, Rachel,” said Eddie. “Don’t let the cameras get you nervous.”

“It’s a pretty hot game though yeah?” I said. “Let’s make it hotter.”

I pushed over more chips. That’s when a surprise orgasm made me trickle. I must have been blushing with lust. It was everything I could do to suppress a moan, and maintain a placid face.

“Oh… really?” said Eddie.

“Yes.”

With that, all players showed their cards. One of the other players hid his face in dismay. Eddie smiled ear to ear at his flush. Me and my weaker hand failed to beat him. The orgasming still pulsed in my body, and I couldn’t care.

“You’re taking this loss well,” said Eddie. “You’re a damn good sport.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Another round?”

“I’m good,” I sighed.

“Really?” said Eddie surprised. “Well, until next time you’re in Vegas.”

Allison took me aside.

“You did good,” she said.

“I lost,” I sighed.

“Not that,” she said. “You did a good job concealing your orgasm.”

I blushed a little.

“What makes you think I orgasmed?” I teased.

Allison touched her phone and the vibrations teased me again. I whimpered, trying to maintain my poker face before her wild, dark eyes. She tugged me in for a kiss. It was a tease, but damn it got me so hot.

“We’re going upstairs, otherwise, I’m ripping you naked right here,” she purred into my ear. Heat swelled in my ribcage and I followed her.

I might have let her fuck me on that card table. Certainly would show the poker sharks who is really winning. Instead, Allison had me by the hand and by the backdoor buzzing all the way up to our room. Fuck. The thirst for her sweet lips on my pussy had me short of breath with every step. Wasting not a single moment, Allison held me, spun me around and tossed me to the bed. I shimmied out of my clothes and she stripped herself. I then welcomed her succulent, soft, hot mouth onto mine.

Then she set that buzzer to the strongest setting ever.

“Allison!” I cried out.

“Yes, Rachel,” she said squeezing my bare breasts in her hands.

“You’re so good,” I said. “Please fuck me. I wanna come with you again.”

Begging enlivened her and she pushed her tongue deep into my mouth.

“We’re going to trib now, Rachel,” she said, fubmling out for a toy. She presented a wand to me with a smirk. I whimpered at it and spread my legs. Allison activated the wand and its pulsations landed on my pussy. She pressed it to hers and panted in exuberance at the sensation. I lay there at her mercy, taking that unceasingly tight and overwhelming pleasure at both ends. Allison grinded against the toy. Her torso arched to the side and her hair flung over her face as she writhed in indulgence with me. She grunted, tightening her leg against my torso. No mercy did I get, even as I struggled to suppress my own rising orgasm for her.

Allison let out a percussive grunt, then a breathy, quivering moan. I couldn’t hold back with her if I tried. My climax exploded in my hips and jolted through every muscle. With my arms wrapped to her tense leg, I enjoyed my climax with hers until we both lay back and gazed at the room. I swear, it felt like it was swinging.

“Damn,” said Allison.

“Yeah.”

We said nothing more. Allison withdrew the plug and then I curled next to her, my head on her breast and her hand on my cheek.

“Are we forgetting something?” I said.

“Huh?”

“I took the early poker because of that show right?”

Allison breathed in thought for a moment.

“Right!” she said in sudden recollection. “The steampunk show. Yeah… let’s get ready soon.”

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Secular Supplicants of the Tentacle Cult: Part 01

Published by Wicked Jocelyn on June 5, 2020

My uncle, a doctor, hoped I would be a minister. A strange thought. You see, he spent much of his life in the developing world on a religious mission to eradicate polio. He saved lives and brought happiness to the world. He also prayed for those who suffered.

I’m different. I had given myself fully to the practical and not the spiritual. Ethics, after all, isn’t really all that metaphysical. You reduce pain. You increase happiness. It’s quite that simple. People ask if doctors must ever consider moral costs. Well yes, I recognize that animal testing is required in research. That is a serious amount of suffering. Now I ask you, as a rational person, what amount of utility has been gained by that? If it could be quantified, it would be infinite.

My devout uncle delivered vaccinations to the masses. Soon, I’d make my contributions too. I’d give so much more than I could as a minister.

Oh, I’d almost forgotten, my name is Jeri McSweeny. Yes, like the macabre musical. I’ve heard it all before.

Now there’s one thing about the medical profession: we take our health and our stress level quite seriously. I don’t mean that we need to be on our feet and away from a soul crushing desk. I don’t mean only nutrition. What I mean is our emotional and physical health requires extra care. There is one thing above all that gets that done as efficiently as a flu shot.

I fuck. Specifically, I fuck Elliot Crooker. Elliot Crooker had a dick that exceeded average size and stuffed me better than any of my penetration toys. His other great asset? His shoulders. You see, Elliot got into the medical field after working as a young EMT. He developed the kind of body that once waded into turbulent flood waters, retrieved an exhausted woman clinging to a tree branch, and carried her to safety. Not since that time had he once let his stamina and muscular physique go. Not even through six years of school.

I experienced that stamina for myself after our usual dinner date. Elliot had me bent over his bed, exposing my vagina. The first penetration stung with that stretch. Then, I couldn’t do anything other than relax and accept that euphoric insertion.

“Fuck me harder,” I stammered.

“Like this?”

He spanked me. The sensation went right up to my head.

“Yes! Like that!”

Slap. Slap. Elliot’s palm thudded. My pussy was so damn wet at that point and he slipped out from me.

“You’re all warmed up now,” he said while his fingers found my clit. I moaned for it. Ahh, it was so good. An entire day’s worth of tension evaporated with a simple caress there. Interesting historical fact: did you know that doctors provided that as a professional service in the years of Victorian prudes?

“You ready for a ride?”

“Fuck yes,” I said.

Cow girl never gets old. I mounted Elliot, taking his girth up inside my cunny. Oh let me tell you how much I enjoyed looking down on him. His pectorals and shoulders widened out as he relaxed. His face? He had these hot blue eyes underneath dense eyebrows. Something about his stubble always made sex better too. It shaded the contours of his jaw and his cheekbones like an airbrushed model on a billboard. He could’ve been one.

“Take it!” he said shoving himself up into me. I winced and gasped. Then, I thumped my pelvis up and down on him. Taking control, I pleasured myself on his shaft as he watched my body shake. After resting, he tried to roll over, but I held him down and possessed his cock once again. It’s fun when he climaxes.

I curled my body next to Elliot post consummation. The sex was good. It always was.

“Hell of a day for you, huh?” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh I can tell, Jeri,” he chuckled. “It’s the way you orgasmed that second time. That, and how we got right to it after dinner.”

I thought about it. Yes, he’d been right. It’s strange when you’re in the middle of doing work of medicine that you forget exactly how it drains you. The nervous systems still knows though. That must be what Elliot noticed.

“Today was more stressful than normal,” I added. I wondered how he felt as I stroked his chest. Was it possible for nerves to sense each other like this? Perhaps someday I could understand his nervous systems too.

“You are, extra happy today?” I guessed based on his smile. It looked prouder and more relaxed than the usual.

“Chicago Adventist Oncology,” he said.

“What?” I half jumped out of the bed. Chicago Adventist was a top ten Oncology institute in the country. Well funded. Well staffed. They had developed a new way to detect liver cancer. That technique was pending peer review, but it was promising. “What about it?”

“I’m on the short list for a residency there,” he replied.

“Chicago Adventist. Amazing Elliot.”

I cuddled close with him again. To get short listed for a position there was already an honor. One that I had hoped for myself. Treating cancer is something that I’ve wanted to do since my uncle’s work had eliminated polio in an entire country. You see, the medical community should ever rest on our laurels. There will also be a new disease to eradicate. Cancer remained one of the most persistent.

I am to be a doctor. I will do my part to make things better.

We spent the night, though my sleep was inconsistent. In the morning, Elliot and I showered in an efficient manner and he drove off to the university. Me? I headed to my car and it opened with the familiar chirp.

I turned the ignition. There wasn’t a click or a sputter. It was a nothing. For almost the last decade, I’d studied to make human organs work together. Yet the metal oiliness under the hood of my car remained a mystery. Also, why had the interior dome light popped like that? Was that a cause or an effect? Correlation does not prove causation.

I called a tow and waited forty five minutes. Dammit. I sent several e-mails and text messages, apologizing for appointments I’d missed that day. Including Marley, my drinking buddy and occasional lover.

“What do you mean you’ll have to cancel the lunch?”

“My car,” I muttered from the inside of the tow truck. “I can’t meet you at 12:30 like we planned.”

“Well what about 1:00 or 2:00?”

That surprised me.

“Aren’t you working?”

“I’m working for myself now. New law firm, didn’t I tell you?”

“What happened to Allegiant Business Law?”

“Wasn’t for me,” said Marley. Yeah, that was true. The bags under her eyes and her frequent sighs spoke enough. She never cared for that position, but Marley doesn’t quit either.

“So what are you doing now?”

“Nothing today,” Marley continued a laid back tone. I hardly believed this was the woman who was on her third vodka cranberry when I met her. “Text me where the mechanic is. I’ll pick you up.”

Marley took me to our favorite bar, and we shared overpriced vegetarian tapas. Her anticipated new position was in immigration law. That’s a bold move, and one that would produce much positive utility. Every successfully settled migrant reduced suffering of at least one person. Yet it paid less. Marley had law school debts to pay. The corporate world helped with that. Work that might as well be pro bono could not.

“It’ll be fine. Really,” she said. The new position pays only about ten thousand less than what I’m earning now.”

“Only ten thousand?” I said.

“Plus the loan forgiveness after four years,” she explained.

My eyes opened wide.

“I had help getting it,” Marley added. “Ever heard of Grey Temple Career Wellness?”

“Yes,” I said with skepticism. They advocated company sponsored yoga, proper ergonomics, and encouraging office employees to make sand sculptures. Grey was fitting for their name. They occupied the strange area between evidence based health practices, and new age practices that -to be perfectly precise- had not yet been supported by peer reviewed research.

“They’re more than new age mumbo jumbo, Jeri.” She read my mind. Lawyers. They’re so good at body language. “Here.”

She handed me a card for Grey Temple. It displayed a confident, beautiful, and professional woman with a bold light sparkle to her eyeshadow. Illaria Cortez.

“Have some consultant time,” Marley encouraged.

“Why?”

“Because your car is broken,” she added. “Because your schedule is messed up. You might as well fill the time.”

Hard to argue with that, but I could at least manage to catch up on some studies. I might need to clean up my apartment too. Wait, no. This was the week I had finally broken down and hired cleaning services. I yanked out my phone. My critical tasks had been pushed back another day. Now, without having to travel across town to the hospital, I had a three hour gap in my day. It had been empirically verified.

“Okay, Marley. I’ll see her this afternoon.”

My ride share took me out of downtown and to a neighborhood in rapid transition. New construction surrounded me. That’s a healthy sign even as it meant that people had to relocate. When a depressed area of a city is revitalized with new construction, a city can be better planned. This means more taxes for the common good and ultimately more benefit for everyone, including those who were forced to move as the older buildings were torn down.

Besides, those old buildings probably contained lead.

There was one building that stood out among the others. Grey bricks and arched windows made up the most of it. It had high steeples and arched doorways. Stained glass? It had that too. Though I could see some of the glass was new. A sleek modern sign out front proclaimed “Grey Temple Career Wellness.” They must’ve taken their name from the bricks.

Inside, it had been remodeled. Hallways had been added, cubicles had replaced pews, and bright stained glass windows overlooked a lobby. After waiting, I recognized Illaria as soon as she greeted me. Her outfit is what you would get if a sari made a baby with a CEO and then took his job.

“I’ve been expecting you,” she said. Her voice soothed as it projected around the room.

“How could you?”

“Intuition.”

“I’m Jeri. Pleased to meet you.”

“Charmed. Come into my office,” she began.

Illaria reclined on a comfortable couch and asked me to sit on a nearby armchair. Her desk was tucked away in the corner. She asked several questions such as how I knew Marley. Before long, we slipped into the taboo subject of workplace romances. I let slip that I’d been sleeping with Elliot, and apologized for bringing my sex life into a work consultant conversation.

“Oh it needn’t be so taboo,” said Illaria. “We needn’t spend everyday of our lives doing constant risk assessment, cost benefit analysis, when it comes to our empowerment.”

She stressed the word empowerment. Illaria had a strong sense of making the world better. Empowerment -specifically the term ‘integrated empowerment’- was the word she used to connect sexual life, career life, relationship life. Everything was drawn together for her.

“Now what is the next step for you?” she asked.

“The next step? I need to finish my residency.”

“And then?” She leaned back dangling her arm comfortably over the edge of the couch.

“Chicago Adventist Oncology,” I said. I went on, explaining what it was and how Elliot had been short listed.

“Grey Temple would like to make that happen,” she said. Illaria’s eyes glinted.

“How could you possibly help me?” I asked.

“I didn’t say help. I said we could make it happen,” she continued. She said still reclining,and looking right at me. “Like we did for Marley. The price is only one evening of service. No more than we asked from her.”

“Service?”

“Sexually.”

I leaned in towards her, and checked the sensations in my body. I discovered it unexpectedly horny. Okay, so that might be fun.

“We can draw up a contract. It’s pretty standard,” she continued with utter professionality.

There was no way her little wellness group could possibly guarantee such a thing. Why was this Illaria so confident? Yet, I guess there wasn’t much I could lose. Besides, after todays rough and tumble with my car, I needed a healthy orgasm. Elliot would be on shift and Illaria enticed more than a dildo.

“What’s involved in this service?”

“Whips. Chains. A blindfold. Full disclosure Jeri, it will hurt a bit,” she smirked. “Pain comes first. Deeper, more intense orgasms to follow.

“Oh…” I exhaled.

“Shall I draw up that contract?”

I agreed to it. She printed out a contract. It said things like “The SUPPLICANT agrees to be a sexual slave for no less than one hour to a maximum of four hours for the exclusive pleasure of the MASTER” et cetera. Simple. Straight forward. I was already hot, but made sure it explicitly stated what kind of Oncology Ward I would be accepted to. “To be fulfilled in a manner at the discretion of the MASTER” it said.

Before I knew it, I had followed Illaria into the basement. I stripped myself and Illaria affixed cuffs to my wrists and ankles. Chains held my limbs out, and were tethered to two posts to my left and right. Perfectly immobilized, I was stuck in a position like an anatomy text book. I hadn’t known how much I liked it.

“Is the supplicant happy?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, master,” corrected Illaria holding my jaw.

“Yes, master!”

“Good. Look upon my toys now, supplicant,” she said.

Illaria presented a collection on top of a table. There was a vibrator with enough ribbing for a rough insertion. Another dildo was smooth and made of glass. There were other types too. Including one shaped like a tentacle and another in a curving spiral. She looked over a scourge and paddle next to several leather clamps. There were three different types of gags.

Illaria took up a pair of floggers and flung them back and forth. Approaching me sent a breeze over my naked skin. My nervous system responded, sending blood to the surface, which caused my skin to warm. Then the beatings began. Breasts are so sensitive and my nipples had been out and erect since upstairs. I’d never been struck except for those frequent hand slappings at my ass. This was that many times over, and I cried out at the unexpected hurt over my body.

“Does the supplicant enjoy the beatings?”

“It hurts, master,” I winced.

“I know it does,” said Illaria. “Can you not answer a simple question?”

Several more slaps struck my body. Illaria took her floggers to my ass next. Oh that was a familiar and wonderful feeling.

“Yes. I love it, master,” I said.

“That’s more like it,” said Illaria. The beating continued. She alternated between floggers and paddle. Each strike was exploratory and curious. She was getting to know my body and learning my reactions. The greatest shock was when she flapped her flogger upwards between my legs, slapping my pussy with feline playfulness. Tears happened. It took me a moment to realize it, but the pain was so wonderful that I cried. Endorphins coursed through my bloodstream.

Illaria gagged me and then held my weeping face towards hers.

“You’re taking the pain well, supplicant,” she said. “Yet you have asked for so much. You’ll be expected to take much more.”

I nodded.

Illaria turned her back and examined the toys in her collection. She pulled out a plug and lubed it up.

“You ever had one of these shoved in you?” she said only to ignore my muffled answer. She pressed into my anus. A spiraling sensation of surprise pleasure ran up my spinal column. My hair was yanked back while Illaria wiggled the toy in.

“Dirty little slut,” she said. “I bet you’ve had more than one cock back there.”

Her fingers rubbed my sopping pussy, searching for the clit. I groaned when she found it.

“I bet you’ve had cocks in both ends at the same time, whore.”

Abruptly, she let off. So close. She had denied me one orgasm and I shook against my bounds for her to return. I needed to come, but Illaria only covered my eyes with a blindfold.

“Can you see?” she mocked. I shook my head. “Quite good then.”

Petting, grabbing, and playful scratching marauded me. I took a sustained pinch at both nipples. Clamps, was all I could guess. Then the beating returned. This time, she struck with something like a fat thick tail. The thuds came heavy over my back and stomach, leaving them tingling each time.

At last, a dildo was stuffed inside me. Cooing for it, I relaxed my muscles and tilted my hips. Illaria rammed me with the smooth glass first, prodding around in a search for the right spot. She found it and I moaned into the gag, but she didn’t let me orgasm. Illaria jabbed me with another. This one could be either the ribbed one or the spiral one. Fuck, it felt so damn good. She continued on and on like that, not saying a word and occasionally swatting the clamps at my nipples. I must have been penetrated with every single dildo she had.

But it was that latex tentacle that got me off. I can’t remember the last time I came that hard. Not with my own toys and not even with Elliot. The pulsations from that orgasm had me pulling so hard I could’ve broken those beams. Once it was all done, I hung my head forward and drooled through my gag, heedless to my own debasement. I can’t believe it, but I wanted Illaria to do that to me again.

She tugged the plug out, and released the clamps at my nipples. The rest of the gear except my wrists came undone as well. That was good. I needed something to hang on to. Once I opened my eyes, I saw redness on my body and looked over at Illaria’s toys. She had wrapped her dildos in a thin towel which my juices had dampened. The dry, latex, tentacle stood proud over them all.

“Your payment has been accepted, Jeri,” said Illaria. She unbound my wrists. “You may be a person again.”

“Thank you,” I said. Did I thank her for the sex or for the contract? It was definitely at least for the orgasm. Could Illaria actually make things work? “Did you do this with Marley? Is this how she paid?”

“I don’t discuss my other clients,” said Illaria. “Though I’m sure she can describe many things for you herself. How do you feel?”

“Loose!” I exclaimed.

“As you should,” said Illaria. She gave me time to redress myself and pick up a ride hail. I hugged her good bye and thanked her. “The pleasure was all ours, Jeri. Good luck in Chicago!” she said as I left.

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Jasmine’s Enslavement

Published by Wicked Jocelyn on April 27, 2020

…Continued from “Jasmine’s Hazing”

A bump and the prattle of pebbles against the side of the van told us all that we had gone off the road. If I had seen where we were headed, I might have ran away. It wasn’t simply about the place either. Had someone told me right then what great-grandma had done so many years ago, there would have been no chance I would’ve even spoken to Morgan or any of the other Phi Gamma Omega girls. I understand now why they put us in the van. It had been so much more than another way to force us to endure shame. No, that van was there to protect us from ourselves so that we could become free.

The car stopped at last. The back door opened with a creak. We stepped out into a courtyard with cobble stone walls around us. All the sisters were there. Two of them closed a wrought-iron gate behind us. Before us loomed a large Victorian home. Its black shingled roof rose like steeples to the cloudy sky. Its two lanterns on the porch gloomed an orange-yellow. The front door reached an arch, and on a plaque I saw ‘H.G. Constructions. 1962’ -my family’s company. We had built it years before I was born.

The sisters guided us into a dark foyer. The lifeless air cared nothing for us, but the lit, wax dripping, candelabra right past the front door awaited us. Morgan took hold of it, and then distributed single warm candles to all the sisters. She led us through stairs and halls until we entered what I know now was a chapel. A great stone fireplace stood at one end of a five sided room. Granite statues of chained male and female angels stood in the other four corners. Floor pillows, a pair of red velvet couches, and some ottomans were the only furnishings here.

Any sane person would have panicked at the sight of the altar in the center: A black clothed miniature table. A bowl and a bejeweled knife awaited us on top of it. One of the big sisters stroked a fire in the hearth. As it heated the room, Morgan motioned us pledges to a couch. Then, she took the knife from the altar, held open her hand, and made a long cut. She winced at the pain. Blood dripped from her squeezed fist into the bowl. Another sister rang a bell. Its tone filled the room in a relaxing vibration.

“Mistress of Phi Gamma Omega, lady of hell, and our patron,” Morgan’s voice projected in the room. “This generation of sisters gives our blood, as our sisters before. Come to us and judge which of our lambs is worthy.”

I remember so vividly the next moments. Each sister silently walked to the bowl, cut her hand, and dripped her blood into it. When they finished, they dropped a match into the bowl. A pillar of fire consumed it in a flash. Bristol looked like a terrified rabbit. Yumi held her hands together in her lap. Me? Yes, my head was spinning, screaming at me to leave, to run, to forget all that I was doing. But where could I go? Already I was becoming free.

“All kneel!” said a sister who rang the bell a second time.

The sisters turned and faced the doorway. All of them took to their knees around the room. Yumi, Bristol, and I followed them. The sisters began a whispering chant. Then the bell rang again. Then another bell rang. This time it came from the other side of the door. The tinny sound of the bell echoed along with whispered chants. Then our door creaked open, and the girls went silent.

In stepped a barefoot, black-robed girl. She carried a goblet, decorated like the knife. The girls moved and made way for her. She looked down at Morgan, who glanced up to her.

“Hello Morgan,” the girl whispered. “It’s been too long.”

“Hello Kayla,” said Morgan. Her short words dripped with remorse. Morgan forced a posture of strength. Kayla stepped between the girls, clearing space, and she did so with a serenity none of these other girls would ever know. Morgan’s heart suffered, I could see it even then. Two more girls followed, dressed as Kayla. The clasps at their necks held their hoods and robes in place. It created a long vertical parting that revealed their naked bodies beneath. One carried a flogger. Another carried a set of leather restraints. They motioned all the sisters towards the edges of the room.

Then she entered. I know what she is now. She is who was summoned, who offered a pact, and who maintains her bargain year after year. A woman, tall and with black hair set against light skin. She wore her thick, shoulder length, hair down like a glamorous 1950s film star. Her irises were of no natural color and glowed with a faint violet. Her tight bodice accentuated her chest. A black skirt flowed from her waist into whispy tatters below her knees. Leather straps criss crossed over her feet and up her shins.

Wings. She had a pair of oily, dark, bat-like wings coming from her back.

I wished to run. My mind told me to do so, to flee from something so unnatural and terrible. Yet my body would not obey. Bristol jumped back in fright.

“No! What the fuck this isn’t…” Bristol shouted.
A sister grabbed her and covered her mouth. Bristol muttered further protest, but this strange women look at her -at all three of us- with a malicious serenity that compelled us to silence. Bristol knelt again, eyes still open in terror and her lips sealed tight. Yumi’s breath hastened, but like me she stayed still.

“You have called sisters, and I have answered. I ask you, have I kept my bargain with you?” the woman began.

“You have, mistress,” said Morgan.

“Do you wish all that I offer you? Do you wish your lovers to be your servants? Do you wish to seduce those who stand in your way?” She took strides around the room. Looking over the kneeling girls and gesturing with her whole arms. Her spread wings churned the air. “Do you wish for years of lust without trouble? Sex without shame? To use those who would use you? To hear minds and to influence them?”

“We do, mistress,” said Morgan. She stood up as did the rest of the sisters. She motioned us, the pledges, to stay on our knees. “We offer tribute.”

The women paused and the room’s fire crackled behind us. She smirked. This woman radiated beauty like a black hole. It was this aura that would have kept me on my knees all night. One that even then made me ever so wet. That dress I had on? Already I wanted to strip it off like a whore.

“So you’re looking good, Morgan,” said the woman, this demoness. Her voice became gentle and familiar, leaving the theatrics of the ritual behind her.

“Thank you mistress,” said Morgan. Her voice was rote and without passion.

“The internship after you graduate?” said the demoness. “You did get it, didn’t you?”

“Yes, mistress,” said Morgan. “I’ll be flying to Los Angeles in June.”

“And what’s going to keep those sharks in suits from eating you up?”

“The power you gave us, mistress,” said Morgan. She gritted her teeth.

The mistress laughed.

“I’ve seen so many like you, Morgan. Regret nothing. Forget your sunken costs,” she said. She curled a finger under Morgan’s jaw and raised her own smugly. “Guilt, sweetie, it will eat you alive. Eat others instead.”

She greeted many other big sisters similarly, asking them each about their plans, where they would work, and what they would do. I thought of the wall in our sorority house. These big sisters would follow in those women’s footsteps, sucking the marrow out of life with unassailable ambition. I learned how my sorority had attained such glories in that warm, insidious, chapel.

“Now who have you brought for me?” said the mistress at last.

“Pledges, stand up!” commanded Morgan. “Stand in the center.”

We stood up and stepped with trepidation to the center of the room, lined up in bewilderment. We stood still. I dared to glance at the winged demoness who strutted around us.

“Now let’s do introductions, pretty little lambs,” she said. She pointed to Yumi. “Names starting with you.”

“Yumi,” she said.

“Yumi what?”

“Yumi Terese Allister.”

The mistress pointed to Bristol.

“Bristol Johnston.”

She aimed her violet eyes at me.

“Jasmine Haverton Vicinda.”

“Haverton.”

“A legacy,” I uttered.

“Right,” said the demoness.

She stepped around us. She tugged at my jacket and then removed it. It fell to the ground. Yumi’s fell next to it. The demoness pet our bodies with her hands and her wings, and even teased us with her undeniably hot exhales across the raised hairs of our skin. I don’t know if I could not move or if I didn’t want to anymore. When she cupped my chest, I tried to beg her to undue my dress zipper, and let my breasts be offered to her. Though those words stayed stuck in my mind. Already, I was becoming for her.

She put her arms around Bristol, and curved her wings around them both like an unholy cocoon. My mistress made the softest of kisses on Bristol’s neck, a peck so tiny, it was no louder than a rain drop landing in a puddle. Bristol moaned for it and gasped as the demoness stepped away from her. The terror in her wide eyes melt into a confused, and plaint, glaze.

“Fuck..” stammered Bristol. She undid the top of her shorts. Her hand went down into them. She touched herself in a fever.

“That’s it…” purred the demoness.

Bristol spread her legs and continued to caress herself. Her eyes darted around the room, and she was met only with the solemn silence of the uniformed sisters. One of the robed girls dragged a large pillow forth before her.

“That’s for you, little one. Get comfortable,” said the demoness.

Bristol dropped herself to the cushion. She undid her top and released one of her breasts from the bra. She got rid of her shorts next. Then put her hand back on her pussy, massaging it with a liberated sigh.

“You don’t come yet,” said the demoness. She walked to the altar and picked up the knife. “You keep pleasing yourself, but don’t you come.”

The demoness paced around Yumi, who stood as still as I did. Her chest rose and fell with terror. The demoness pressed the cold blade’s dull side to Yumi’s neck, who only craned her head higher and brushed her hair aside. With a flick of the wrist, the demoness sliced the cloth straps around Yumi’s neck. Her white top slid further off her chest with each other cut the demoness made.

Bristol squelched while she touched herself.

The demoness ignored Bristol and unclasped Yumi’s necklace. It tumbled to the ground and landed with a clink. Yumi’s expression melted into placidity. Her pupils opened as wide as unguarded gates.

“Jasmine Haverton Vicinda,” The demoness’s voice boomed in my head. “Stand beside Yumi here. Get a hold of her pussy. Both of you watch that slut over there.”

I cuddled next to Yumi. Her arm wrapped around me, holding me. My arm reached down and unsnapped the buttons at the top of her skirt. Some voice in my head told me that it wasn’t safe or normal. Wouldn’t I simply lick a big sister’s pussy and be done with it? I had been naked with these girls, but this defilement crossed so many more lines. Yumi didn’t stop me, but why did I do this? Was I doing it for my future ambitions? I had some purpose to join this sorority, but I was forgetting it. Because I was a legacy? That was a mere means to an end. The demoness desired this, and that single thought drowned out all others. My palm slid over the short coarse hairs of Yumi’s mons. I slipped my fingers onto Yumi’s folds and pet her.

“Yes… Jasmine,” she whispered. “Please touch me.”

We watched Bristol. She struggled, whimpered, and her eyes watered from the pain of denied orgasm.

“Do you want to come?” said the Demoness.

“Yes, mistress!” she declared.

“Can you come? Did I tell you I could?”

“No, Mistress!” Bristol’s voice strained.

The demoness squatted down. She groped Bristol’s trembling body, then took a hold of her nipple piercings and tugged. Bristol suppressed a scream of pain.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she said. Bristol gasped and cried out. Tears spread from her closed eyes. “I can let you come, would you like that?”

“Please let me come!” shouted Bristol.

“Oh, you’ll come,” said the Demoness with a playful tone. “You’ll all come. You’ll all be doing what I want tonight.”

She released her grip on Bristol’s breast.

“Orgasm, now!” she ordered.

Bristol’s legs shook in release. Her orgasmic screaming echoed against the hard walls. Drips of wet juices from Yumi’s pussy moistened my hand. My own pelvis sweltered with heat. I wanted Yumi right then. My teal dress became nothing more than an oppressive barrier between me and these sisters. Never, not once, had I lusted like this. This demoness, this horrendously gorgeous monster, had been changing me since the moment I crossed the threshold of this house. I loved her for it.

The demoness reached for the ties that held her tattered skirt in place. The robed girls knelt before her, one bearing the goblet. On instinct, I sat in reverence. Yumi did too. Bristol, still sighing from her climax, joined us.

“What comes at no cost in the world?” the demoness intoned.

“Nothing at all,” the uniformed sisters chanted around us.

The robed girls tugged away the demoness’s skirt, carefully folding it and placing it aside on a pillow.

“My power is a deep well of water, and I offer you all a cup full,” she continued. “Let lust be your leash. May you all live sweet, delicious, and enviable lives.”

The three girls reached to the demoness’s legs and hips and rubbed all around her pussy.

“And we offer lambs to you. One to be your thrall throughout her time in university. Choose well, our mistress.”

The demoness smiled and tossed her head and wings back. She groaned as her thralls caressed her. Then out of the top of her cunny, erupted a thick erect phallus. I wanted that strange, unnatural thing. Her entire visage, wings, hair, and that thick beautiful dick had a magnetic pull on my heart. Though her will invaded my head, telling me to remain on my knees. Those cloaked thralls took turns before the demoness, each one swallowing and stuffing that shaft in their mouths. Jealousy welled inside me, and the demoness could tell. She relaxed her body, and her thralls brought her to orgasm. First, the thick white cum fired in spurts. A messy splatter landed between the sister’s faces and the goblet they held. Then it came in steady pumps. Heavy drop after heavy drop landed in the goblet as the thralls wiped their lips. They wasted nothing. Kayla placed it on the altar.

The demoness made sweeping strides around. Wings whooshed and fanned us. With graceful movements that paid us no mind, she extended her hands out and downward as if controlling us by strings. Yumi and Bristol crawled forward to the pillows, both of them half naked. They went at each other in feverish lust. Yumi kissed Bristol from her wrists to her neck. Bristol rolled Yumi to her back, and her hair covered their passionate kissing. Why not me, I had thought right then. So stressed and anxious, I did not want to kneel and stare. My heart palpitated that the demoness did not regard me though it delighted me to see Yumi get out of even more of her clothes. Bristol straddled Yumi’s face, and Yumi lavished her pussy. It had to have ached. Yumi fucked Bristol with her fingers and pleased the clit with her tongue.

My mistress squatted behind me. She pulled down the back zipper of my dress. She slid her hands under it and against my skin. At last, she touched me. Her possessive hands groped all over my body. She grasped my neck and tilted my face upwards to her. Wings wrapped around me and she conquered me with a hard kiss.

“Mistress…” I said. I could not utter my desires fully. Bristol moaned in another orgasm.

“Yes, little lamb, you will please me,” she said. “It would please me if you consumed Yumi until she comes on your pretty face.”

She released me. At last, I undid my dress and my panties. It was maddening, that I spent so much time in anxiety and indecision about that outfit. I discarded it on the floor. No longer did its fabric bind me or keep me from pleasure. Something, some distant voice, screamed a quiet scream. It needed to know what was becoming of me, what would happen next, if everything would be perfect, if I would make the right class, and a dozen other silly thoughts. Yet that scream became so quiet and distant against a singular domineering thought: I would be for my mistress. It pleases to obey.

Yumi welcomed me between her thighs. The first taste of her tangy pussy juice touched my lips. Never had I tasted that flavor before. I took hold of her pussy, palming and caressing it, and it thrilled me to hear the sounds of pleasure in her voice.

“I want your pussy, Yumi,” I couldn’t believe I said such things. I hadn’t ever done this before. I fingered her, finding her clit, and then played with her some more. Her faced flushed in delight. The will to dive down on her could not be resisted even if I had tried. I found my face between her thighs licking her long, tear-drop shaped cunny as my mistress wanted. Yumi sweltered with juices there. So much that the smell and taste overwhelmed me. The novelty, and unnaturalness of everything that happened to me might have stopped me, but now I craved Yumi like I craved my mistress’s pleasure. Yumi’s pussy splashed juices onto my face. Oh the sounds she made when she came! Yumi forget everything except pleasure as she wailed.

We welcomed Bristol in and we became a pile of pulsating lust together. We’d been naked together for hours, though never had we become this intimate. I had no idea that lips on my clit could feel that good. Bristol yearned to please me that way. I liked holding them, and rubbing them. Each new way that we found to tease each other only energized our tired bodies further. Our orgasms, our spectating sisters, and the aura of our mistress, consecrated our threesome, in all of its depravity.

“Split yourselves up now, lambs,” commanded the demoness. We obeyed and departed away from each other. Oh, I wish I could have held Yumi for only a few moments more. Though I did not linger on that thought long. The thralls surrounded me and I knelt with instinct. They passed around the cum filled goblet. Each one took a sip and swallowed the pearls down.

“Now you,” said Kayla. She held the cup out to me and I took it. They’d left a lot for me. “All of it.”

If you had told me that I would ever do a thing like this, in this chapel, before these girls, I may have abandoned my destiny. Now, I know never to overthink, and life is only to obey. I took the goblet to my lips, held it bottom up and let the thick cool cum pour into my mouth. The sisters and the thralls whispered a chant. The cum! There was more to it than a sweet and salty taste or the texture as it slid on my tongue. My mistress’s cum took the evanescent, post orgasmic bliss in my mind, and stretched out its euphoria. When I handed the goblet back, I looked to Morgan. Her face looked like it had when Kayla talked to her. I didn’t know why she looked sad. What was there to be upset about? She could be jealous of me though it didn’t matter. I’d never been so satisfied and serene.

“The mistress has chosen,” said Morgan flatly.

“Hold the bell, sisters,” said my mistress. “This one is special.”

Gears creaked above from the ceiling. A chain descended from above us. One of the robed girls attached the cuffs to it. I reached for them and my mistress closed their clasps around my wrists. The chains tugged back up lifting my heals off the ground, forcing me to balanced towards my toes. My mistress groped and fondled me. Her nails scratched my skin. She twisted my nips as she had Bristol’s. Oh, it hurt so much. I loved it.

“Morgan knew I would pick you, Jasmine Haverton Vicinda,” said my mistress with sadism. “I will tell you why.”

Her cock teased my belly so close to my wetness. I lifted my leg to accept her and my mistress stepped back.

“Your ancestor called me here,” she said. “She was the first to ask for a deal.”

She undid the leather bracers on her wrists, dropping them to the ground. Her thralls unlaced her bodice. Her perfect breasts came out. I wanted to place my lips on her wicked nipples and make my mistress feel good.

“She offered her dorm roommate as tribute.” My mistress stretched out her wings and arms, displaying smooth and vivacious skin. “I still wear that body today.”

She held my cheeks in her both hands. Her violet iris glinted with a new glow. She struck my cheek with a mean slap.

“I gave your ancestor wealth, power, and luxury. Without me, she would have been nothing, another anonymous, helpless, housewife.” She stepped back and gave me another hot slap in the face. “Smarts though, she had on her own. She knew better than to allow her daughters to come to this sorority.”

The demon held out her hand. Kayla placed the handle of a flogger into it.

“I’ve waited over fifty years, and through dozens of thralls to take a daughter of Helen Haverton.”

She whipped the floggers tails back and forth as she stepped closer. The flying tails inched closer. I arched my back, offering my breasts. The tails brushed over my nipples. I wanted it. I stretched my chest out further forward. I needed to get beaten. “Beat me,” I muttered out loud in a haze. My mistress closed the distance. The lush tails landed on my chest with thud after thud. Better than anything I had felt on my skin until then. Each slap hurt and left an echoing sensation of agony on my skin. My mistress did not relent and the will to keep my body prone held me there. I yelped at each strike, and begged her to continue.

“For the next four years, you are mine!” declared my mistress. She stepped around me with the flogger. Strikes landed on my shoulders, ass, and thighs. “You will wear what I tell you to wear, or will be naked as I see fit. You will attend classes when I say and leave them as it pleases me.”

She gave a series of cruel slaps to my ass.

“You will fuck, who I want you to fuck,” she sneered. “You will seduce who I command you to.”

My chest took another aggressive flogging.

“You will reside here, cloistered with your sisters. You will sleep in a cell or in a cage, for no reason except my appetite,” she growled. She handed the flogger back to Kayla, then embraced me. Her nails tickled my beaten skin once more. Talons at the tips of her wings grazed my back side. Oh, it was wonderful.

“What do you say to all that?” she hissed.

“Yes mistress. I obey.”

“That’s right. Now tell your sisters something else,” she tugged the nape of my hair, directing my face to Bristol, Yumi, and the uniformed sisters.

“I love my mistress…” I pronounced.

The chain extended lowering my heels, then my arms, and then slacked to the ground in a cold rattle. The little voice didn’t exist now. There was not even a quiet screaming one. Obey the mistress. Please the mistress. Those thoughts echoed with every breath now. How I would please remained the only choice that mattered. What did my mistress want from me? On my knees, with wrists bound, I dared to take hold of her thick phallus. I licked it and sucked it, just as my cloistered sisters had done before. Would she give more of her cum? I didn’t know, but I needed her dick in my mouth. The way she moaned made me so proud and so free.

“You’re good at that, thrall,” said my mistress. “Touch yourself while you suck me. Get wet.”

I rubbed my clit. The pleasure of the suckling and the ache at my clit made me more lustful.

“Enough,” commanded my mistress. “On all fours, thrall!”

I assumed the position. My hips tilted upwards. My pussy dripped with juices and my mistress glided her cock over its surface. Then she penetrated me. That painful stretch from such a hard, warm, and thick shaft put me in a deeper stupor. My mistress fucked me like a whore. She rammed me with an aggressive fury.

“I love my mistress,” I stammered when she turned me over to my back. I could not get enough of her. Her chest shook and her eyes glowed as she rammed away within. I twiddled my own clit, bringing myself closer to climax.

“Not yet,” said my mistress. “You will come when I permit you.”

She positioned my hips to fuck me deeper. I’d become such a slut for her. The will to keep touching myself, while suppressing my own orgasm overrode the pain and tears. The fucking changed pace. My mistress moaned and her beautiful face blushed with her climax. She didn’t need to tell me. My body released in time with her, and gushed juices against the cock inside me. Her cum pumped inside.

She pulled out. I flopped down to the stone floor.

“Phoebe. Samantha. Take care of your new sister,” she said. My two cloaked sisters came to me. They rubbed my ravaged body with this oil that smelled like lemon grass. It softened that throbbing on my skin. I might have drifted off to sleep under their soothing care. Though I stayed half awake, and aware of all those in the room around me. My mistress had flooded my pussy with her cum. I enjoyed that my sisters saw it drip out.

One sister rang a bell.

Yumi and Bristol blinked. Bristol looked around with wide eyes. Yumi reached for Bristol’s hand. They both sat there panting. Were they afraid? No, that wasn’t it. Surprised. That’s what they looked like to me.

“Well bitches, get your clothes,” said one of the sisters. Yumi and Bristol grabbed the rags they came in with and held them in their laps.

“Now you, little thrall,” said the demoness. “What will you do with that precious dress you walked in here wearing?”

The fire still blazed. Its orange light beckoned me to do what my mistress expected. I gathered that coat, that dirty old pastel dress, even my shoes, and my thong. I tossed them one by one into the fire. So simple I became then. No more apprehension, anxiousness, or brain spinning its wheels so fast that I could not choose. There were no decisions now. My mistress had made me free.

“Morgan?” said the Demoness. Her glorious cock had receded. Her wings folded behind her back, while Kayla tied the back of her bodice.

“Yes, mistress?”

“You’ve given me what I’ve wanted for over half a century,” she said. “Do you know Kayla’s time of enthrallment ends soon?”

“Four years as always,” said Morgan.

My mistress motioned Kayla forward and pulled back her hood.

“She needs to slowly adjust to life outside my cloister,” said the demoness. “I want you to take your old friend home tonight. She’ll please you if you want that, or not if you prefer. But you must share a bed with her tonight, and maybe longer.”

Morgan’s eyes brightened in surprise. Kayla stepped to her holding her palms out, and Morgan took them as if to lead a dance. They looked at each other for a time.

“You still there?” Morgan whispered. Kayla leaned in and the two of them connected lips. Morgan’s lashes opened wide, then she closed them as she explored the sensations. “I guess we’ll find out,” she said when they released.

Morgan then turned to Bristol and Yumi.

“Congratulations bitches, you made it. You’re full sisters now,” she said. The other sisters applauded. “How do you feel after all that?”

“You all did this too?” said Bristol. “Then I’m good. We can do anything.”

“I’ve wanted to be with women forever,” said Yumi. “That was my first time. I feel… well no one here can judge me, right?”

The sisters chuckled warmly. Morgan smiled.

“Yes, that’s how I felt too when I sat there my first year,” said Morgan. “Now you know our secret. Every year we pay tribute to our mistress. You’ll see these other girls around campus, in our sorority house and so on. They don’t belong to us anymore.”

She paused and glanced at Kayla.

“Now there is this door here that opens to the basement in the Sorority house,” she began.

My mistress turned to me and spoke softly.

“Little thrall, it’s time for you to go to bed,” she said. “Phoebe and Samantha will take you to your cage. Soon, I’ll prepare your cell for you myself.”

“Yes mistress,” I said. My robed sisters held my arms. They led me through the door and into the dark hallway. I became a cloistered thrall to a gorgeous demon. My mind became numb. My will was suppressed, usurped, and replaced with hers. What would become of me? I didn’t know, but placidity and pleasure soothed my once uncertain heart. No longer would I exist as I had before. I need only be for my mistress now.

End Chapter One

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Jasmine’s Hazing

Published by Wicked Jocelyn on April 20, 2020

Exposed to the hard spattering of raindrops, I had never been smaller than at my grandmother’s graveside. Grandma Carolina Haverton MacKinley herself was small next to my great grandmother, Helen Haverton, who took “Haverton-Gibson” as her married name. Grandma Helen worked her husband, an architect, to found a construction and real estate empire. She began in Portland. Our properties now dominated areas as far south as California’s Sacramento delta. My mother managed it now.

My mother wept at the graveside that year. Grandma Carolina had died a year after our congressman broke his promise to us. Despite protests, he had given rights to a defense contractor to build a factory west of Beaverton. Its disgusting fumes could be seen from our properties. My mother was so incensed that she challenged our representative’s seat the following year. Though it took more than money for a politically inexperienced, single issue, candidate to beat an entrenched politician. He had the support of his good old boys allies that went back to his Ivy league. Dejected, my mother conceded, and contented herself to withdraw our donations.

I knew then, as a shivering middle school girl, that my family would call on me. The terrible weight that I would someday serve Helen Haverton’s legacy confined my heart. One day too I would take over as my grandmother and mother had done. More though, I would have to exceed them. I would need a network as strong as our back stabbing congressmen. Our family and our city needed a Haverton in public service.

That had been my idea. I existed to prove myself and to carry the legacy. To begin, I began college with my long term purpose in mind. I must connect with best, and only the best. Grandma Carolina used to used to quote some old philosopher: ‘Know the fortunate in order to choose them.’ Therefore, the right friends would assist in my goals, but purposes had changed so fast. Pledge week had only been two weeks ago. I ignored every competing sisterhood and walked straight to the oldest one on campus, Phi Gamma Omega. There, I looked straight into the wary, regal, blue-green eyes of one sister.

“Yes?” she said to me.

“Hi,” I said. “Can I ask your name?”

“I’m Morgan,” she said. Her tone spoke so much more. As did her gaze. ‘Why are you talking to me?’ it signaled. ‘Why should I be interested?’ was written on her face. “Who are you?”

I had been nervous then. I fought a little battle in my mind even though there couldn’t be anything to worry about. Grandma Carolina used to tell me that people only know how you act, and never how you feel on the inside. So even when you trembled around that boy you had a crush on or how scared you felt to speak in a group, if you pretended enough, no one would know. Then you’d get what you want.

“I’m the next girl you will invite to this sorority,” I said standing as straight as I could, my face unwavered though my heart thumped inside me.

“Is that so?” said Morgan. “Now why would I do that?”

“My name is Jasmine Haverton Vicinda,” I answered. Morgan’s eyebrows raised. Her crossed arms relaxed to her side, and she prodded her chin.

“As in…” she said.

“Helen Haverton.”

“Okay legacy,” said Morgan. Her attitude changed towards me. Instead of coldness, she offered a sliver of respect. “I’ll sponsor you myself. Though you’re going through your pledging process like any other, do you understand?”

“I think I do.”

“‘Think you do’? There’s no special treatment here,” Morgan said as she glowered towards me. “You will pledge like any other freshmeat. You will do whatever any other freshmeat does. If you don’t do what we want, then you don’t really want to be in.”

“I…” I began.

“Really, it might be best for you to walk away,” said Morgan. Her judgmental facade dropped for a split second. Was she testing me?

What was it I felt in that moment? I think it had been fear. I had been right to be afraid. If I stepped away, I would’ve kept on existing as normal, and joined some other sorority. I’d be partying between studies and giving head to cute boys and maybe a professor. Future lawyers, business magnates, and other influential people would still be among my peers. I could have walked away right then. This sorority was more than a mere power group. I wanted this and I was going to do whatever it took to live up to my name. Everyone named Haverton had done something great. Great-Grandma Helen would be proud.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, big sister,” I said. “I don’t want to be treated any different.”

Grandma Helen had been one of the first women to attend Granitewell College, a private school on the edges of Portland, back in the early fifties. She helped found the Phi Gamma Omega sorority, and later she met my great-grandfather. My family’s name preceded me. Granitewell begged me to visit by the tenth grade. Great-grandma had forbidden -with uncompromising terms- her daughter to follow in her educational path. My mother told me of the threats Great-grandma had given when she considered applying. Helen Haverton didn’t think anyone could do it.

I had struggled, but I knew my path. I would become the first legacy ever to join the Phi Gamma Omega women. So I had endured high school and all its abuses and applied to only one college. Nothing would stop me. Nothing would stop me from gathering that network of the fortunate. Resolved, I prepared myself for whatever Morgan had in mind.

There had been two other girls pledging that week with me. The big sisters had given us a schedule so strict we had to dodge our classes. When we crossed the antique oak doors of the sorority house, we were stripped of clothes and ordered to be silent. The sisters affixed thin canine collars. Each collar had a little dog tags declaring which big sister owned us for the week. We were shown the messy kitchen, the filthy bathrooms, and cluttered bedrooms. After we scrubbed and vacuumed the house, they threw aprons at us and sent us to cook.

They never told us why we cooked so much. They gave us no notice about the party they had planned. Guests arrived in the evening. We served food to guys I’d seen on campus and girls older than me. The big sisters’s boyfriends gazed at our nudity. Every second degraded us. One boyfriend reached out to Yumi, another pledge, to flick her small breast. His girlfriend slapped his hand away and clarified the no touching rule.

That’s when I knew my big sisters would keep us dirty little pledges safe. They take good care of their own. I’m sure Yumi is happy now. Bristol too. I’m even more so. Safer and happier than you can imagine.

That party had lasted late, and we’d been given cots in the basement. The three of us cleaned the next morning. Yumi had been sweeping the kitchen floor while Bristol and been gathering empty cans, paper plates, and even some random clothes. Bristol looked at Yumi and noticed the bit of jewelry at her neck.

“How come you still get to wear that, there?” she asked.

Yumi touched the pendent that hung from her neck.

“Come on, let me see it,” said Bristol. She stepped over to the kitchen and bugged Yumi.

“My big sister didn’t make me take it off,” protested Yumi.

“But you’re not naked then,” said Bristol teasing. “You get to cover up with whatever that little metal is.”

“You don’t think this is naked?” said Yumi. She stretched her arms out and whipped her black straight hair over her shoulder. Her nips pointed out against the cool air. The contours of hips and stomach shown under the light. “I feel pretty naked.”

Beyond the collar, the only thing on her body was that crucifix necklace.

“I think she looks more naked with it,” I said. “More naked than us.”

“Yeah, that’s probably why your big sister let her keep it,” said Bristol. She twirled back to the cluttered living room.

“So where are you from, Yumi?” I asked.

“Sacramento,” she began. Yumi looked at my chest then diverted her eyes towards my face. Then glanced away again. “Sacramento area anyway. Place called Citrus Heights.”

“California?”

“Yeah… I wanted to come up here, because it’s far?” she said. She checked me out again. Out of curiosity, I rolled my hips in a subtle display. Yumi’s pupils dilated and then she glanced away again. My mother always said use your beauty whenever and on whoever. “I wanted to get in the best sorority I could too.”

She shifted her gaze to our wall of fame. One woman smiled in the robes of a judge. Another woman sat in a director’s chair. A third, smiled in doctor’s scrubs accepting an award for an innovative new surgery technique. This is what the women of Phi Gamma Omega became.

Yumi and I talked more throughout our cleaning shift. I remember thinking how beautiful her light brown eyes were. Her lashes and eyelids hinted at Asian ancestry. I couldn’t place where she might be from though. I only wished that I could have had hair as sleek as hers. Bristol’s eyes were dark blue, and her lashes spoke both come hither and I’ll cut you in the same blink. Her brown hair was held back with a clip that had her name on it. I guess that’s the bit of clothing her big sister let her keep. Metal bars pierced the nipples of Bristol’s full chest. They looked like they could hurt when I saw them. I wanted to bite them too.

“Philosophy,” I said when they asked me what I studied. “Minoring in English too.”

“Oh God, so do you love to study or what? Can’t imagine studying for fun,” said Bristol. “Missing classes must be killing you.”

“I can have fun,” I said. I cared about her opinion of me then. “Besides it’s about finding the right teachers.”

“Oh really? So do you know who is good for freshman English?” said Yumi. “Cause I gotta change my classes and I might get a new instructor.”

I didn’t. I didn’t know who had been the right teacher for me. When Yumi said those words, it struck me as to how I had suddenly overlooked the quality of my own Freshman English teacher. Anxiety struck me and it cut deep into my body. I’d researched all the right professors for my first two years, based on every rating system I read online. I’d examined some of the stuff they wrote and published because that’s what I was supposed to do. Though when it came to my Freshman English professor, a professor who would probably determine whether I wrote well or terrible for the rest of college, I had picked who fit in my schedule. I remember this sudden tension in my heart and an urgent need to do something.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Don’t know?” said Yumi.

“You could check Doctor Ellis,” said Bristol her voice was gentle and her eyes cunning. “She writes for magazines and stuff.”

“Okay,” said Yumi.

I cleaned up in a hurry that day. You see, I had to check for myself too. I left Yumi and Bristol and sneaked my way upstairs.

What I did then was silly. I know that now. Now I don’t stress about my classes or having the right everything. I go to my classes and then return to my cell. It’s simple there. Though right then, I agonized over the perfect teacher. Upstairs I found a computer and connected to my usual rating systems. I read everything I could about Doctor Ellis. I then looked up magazines she’d written in. I sent some to myself to read later. Then, when I read her third book review, Morgan hollered my name from down the hall.

“Freshmeat?” she said bursting through the door way. I had been caught on a computer when she expected me to be cleaning. Trembling and red in the face, I stared at my big sister’s furious expression.

“Pledge, what are you doing?”

“I’m on the internet.”

“And what were you supposed to be doing?”

“Cleaning the house until it sparkles, big sister,” I gulped.

“I see,” said Morgan. She slammed the laptop’s lid shut. “Come with me.”

Morgan took me to her bedroom. She opened a drawer and pulled out a paddle. She then put it back and reached in for another one. Holding the two in her hands she ignored me and then decided on the wider one with leather padding.

“Bend over pledge,” she said. “Turn around. Hands on the bed frame.”

“Yes, big sister,” I whimpered.

The first strike came in a wide, flat impact on my ass. Then my big sister tapped the other cheek. I embraced the second wet leather thud.

“Jasmine Haverton Vicinda,” sneered Morgan. “Did you get excused from cooking with your pledging sisters?”

“No, big sister,” I said.

Another strike came. I choked down a cry.

“Do you get to wear clothes while other pledges stay naked?”

Another hit.

“No big sister,” I said.

Whap.

“Did you get excused from chores with your sisters?”

“No, big sister,” I said.

The next hit hurt. I cried out. Morgan leaned over me. Her hand moved up my chest and her fingers curled around my neck. Her face went straight to my cheek.

“You’re not special, little sister,” she said. “You do what I say, because you told me you would take it. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” I said.

I dared not move my hands from the post. Prone, I took another two firm slaps of the paddle. I’d never been punished before. My big sister loved meting it out. She surprised me when her smooth hands caressed my back, my chest, and legs as I was bent over like that. When her fingers made it to my bare pussy, I winced. The soft pinching she gave my outer lips relaxed me. It made me feel good.

“You will do whatever I want,” she said. Her fingers moved in testing my wetness. I loved every humiliating second of her prodding. When she pulled out, I almost pleaded her to continue. Instead, she put her fingers to my face and had me smell my juices.

“You like the smell of pussy, pledge?”

“Yes, big sister.”

“Would you eat my pussy if I told you to?” she said.

“Whatever you ask, big sister,” I said. I looked up at her, playing the part of the obedient pledge. I had suspected she would demand this, eventually. My anxious heart would not stop me. I would do it. I would do it until my big sister came to prove my dedication. It wouldn’t matter how degrading that would be. I existed for this sorority and all that it promised me. Nothing could humiliate me so much that I would turn my back. I was meant to be here. Morgan wanted it too. My gaze dared her, and even begged her, to drop her panties before me.

Only later did I understand why big sister Morgan wavered, stepped away from me, and ordered me to stand up. Air deflated from my lungs. Almost. We could have done the oral sex and gotten that test over with.

“You’ll eat pussy before you know it, freshmeat. I’d make you eat mine right now, but that’s not on me yet,” she said in a firm tone. Her words pushed down whatever her own cravings were. “We’re getting you pledges dressed up tomorrow night and taking you somewhere special. Then, we’ll see if you have what it takes to join Phi Gamma Omega.”

The next night arrived. Our big sisters had given us all simple instructions: dress in the hottest outfits you can. Though what had they meant by that? Club hot? Formal event hot? Trashy hot? All of those silly thoughts had run through my head as I tried on an outfit, removed it, changed again and then modified the look. I didn’t know what I was going for, and I didn’t know what was happening next. I only knew to get it right.

“Pledge,” said my big sister. She entered dressed in a sorority uniform, a dark sweater vest with green trim. She looked completely official right down to her knee height boots.

“Yes sister?” I turned halfway out of my previous outfit. I must have looked like such a mess. Too many things were complicated right at the beginning of the semester. Maybe it had all been in my head though.

“What are you doing?” Morgan raised an eyebrow at me. “I said put on your sexiest outfit, not a hurricane of half dress. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” I stammered. “I have to look my sexiest. But what is it for? Who is it for? If I’m going to look hot I have to look the right kind of hot.”

Morgan raised her hand to shush me.

“Which outfit makes you feel the hottest?”

I stared at the mish mash of outfits resting on my bed. Morgan sighed.

“Okay, well the tube top is going to go. We won’t use that one,” she said. She took my dark green top and pushed it aside. “This single long dress? Yes, it’s hot and sleek, but it’s not working for what’s planned tonight.” She pushed that back into the closet. “I like this skirt.” She said tossing it to one side of the bed. “But we’re getting rid of this belt you have with it…”

Morgan went through my clothes one at a time, never asking once what was what. After a few rounds, she had me down to two items of clothing. My pastel colored, asymetrical dress. She picked a belt out for me to accentuate my waist, then tied the look together with a coat I’d brought from home. Picking this out would have kept my manic head spinning in circles for hours. She had made snap decisions in a matter of seconds.

“There,” said Morgan. “You’re sexy. Make-up too?”

The outfit worked, and I knew what tiny bit of eyeliner and lip stick I needed to complete this look.

“I know what to do for makeup,” I said.

“Good,” said Morgan. “By the way, you’re not wearing those cotton panties either. You got something hotter right?”

“Umm, in my suitcase still?”

Morgan opened it and went through my collection of lingerie bottoms.

I came down out of my room to the group of big sisters, the other pledges. I remember feeling embarrassed at being so late. I could tell by how the other uniformed big sisters eyed me that I’d taken way too long to dress. Bristol looked me over. She wore a tight top that emphasized her perfect cleavage and tight daisy dukes to match. Yumi wore a black pleather skirt with a white top that showed her shoulders. She kept her crucifix in between her perfect collar bones.

“You look good there, Jasmine,” said Bristol.

“Thanks,” I said. “Sorry for making everyone wait.”

“You can pick faster next time,” said Morgan. “Any last minute adjustments, pledges? Are you at your hottest?”

“Will we be… outside?” said Yumi.

Morgan and the other big sisters looked at her outfit.

“Yeah, she could use a jacket too,” said another big sister. Yumi looked at them unsure.

“Yes, Yumi, go upstairs and be quick,” said another sister. Yumi scampered upstairs to her room. She returned down with a wind breaker.

“Perfect. Sisters, remove their collars,” said Morgan. “You freshmeat bitches? Come to the garage.”

We walked down the hill outside our Sorority house, around a parking lot, and to the garage shed. The wet asphalt glistened against the yellow of the night’s street lamps. The cloud cover hid the sky as always. Rain was light tonight. The shed itself? It frightened enough with its old peeling paint and its walls covered with decaying vines. The sisters opened it. Inside there was a windowless van. Morgan opened the back doors to reveal a pristine interior of metal as clean as a mortician’s table. A row of seats with constricting seat belts awaited us.

“Get in bitches,” commanded one of the sisters. The Haverton women needed political power someday. Remembering that, I refused to hesitate. I sat down and buckled myself in. Yumi and Bristol followed me. The doors closed with a clunk. We were in darkness except for the pale blue of the interior light. Even the window to the driver’s seat in front had been closed. The engine hummed and the van moved.

It might have been minutes. It might have been hours. I don’t remember anymore. The van bumped over potholes. We had a sense that we traveled on a highway. All throughout that ride, my heart pounded. Not so much out of being scared, although I had been that too. No, my heart beat out of confusion at what I had went through. Less than an hour prior I had stressed about small things like what to put on. Later, I was getting driven in a cage of a van, yet I existed in simplicity.

“Where are they taking us?” said Bristol. Her eyes darted around, as if looking for a tiny crack of light, or a window, or anything. Bristol couldn’t handle confinement too well. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t been chosen in the end.

“I don’t know,” said Yumi.

“Do you?” said Bristol. She said pointing at me. “Your grandma or someone is up on wall. I’ve seen her!”

“I don’t know… Bristol,” I said.

“Yes you do,” she insisted. “Come on! Tell us what they’re going to do!”

“I honestly don’t know!” I declared. I raised my hands up in protest.

“We’ll be safe, Bristol,” said Yumi. “We’re almost done. I know it. Don’t you?”

“But where are we going?” said Bristol. Slight beads of sweat appeared at her neck.

“Bristol,” said Yumi. She took Bristol’s hand and held it, “We’ll be full sisters soon. Don’t you want that?”

Bristol calmed down.

“You know I never left my state before coming out here,” said Yumi. “I almost didn’t want to come all the way up here either. I thought I’d attend a community college, then go to the same UC my sister did, forty minutes from home.”

“You got nervous and went anyway,” I said.

“Thanks,” smiled Yumi. “I wanted to explore the northwest. So I’m here.”

“Alright,” said Bristol calming down. “Okay. I can’t wait for air.”

I reached out for Bristol’s other hand. She took it and squeezed. The tension in her diffused between all three of us. Nervous and unburdened, we rode in silence.

To Be continued

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