40: Sleepover Games

on July 28, 2007 in 02: Love In The Time Of Magic

In Which The Story Is Slightly Less Safe For Work Than Normal 

 “Wow, Mack,” Amaranth said sourly, looking down over the edge of my bed to where I lay fully dressed on the floor, with my backpack for a pillow. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

“I told you I didn’t want sex,” I said. “Anyway, you don’t have to stay all night. I’ll be okay.”

“Considering your definition of sex doesn’t appear to include anything two women can do together, it’s amusing to me that this somehow precludes us being in the same bed,” she said… though strangely, she didn’t sound all that amused. She somehow managed to give me a look which approximated her over-the-glasses glare, despite the fact that she’d taken off her glasses before getting into bed… which made me wonder if they weren’t some kind of antique, as it was hard to find a new pair that didn’t have layers of elasticity and shatterproof enchantments on them.

“You… you… wanted me to get a good night’s sleep,” I reminded her.

“Are you saying that my nubile, immortal body next to yours would make it hard for you to sleep?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes in what would surely have been , for a normal girl, a ridiculous pose.

I made a couple of incomprehensible attempts at beginning a response to that.

“Well, anyway, it could hardly be less restful than a night on the floor,” Amaranth said. “It’s sweet of you to offer me your bed, but there are two in here.” She sat up. “Why don’t you take your bed, and I’ll use Puddy’s? She doesn’t ever seem to.”

“No!” I said, horrorstruck by the idea… then hastily added, “Puddy doesn’t like people touching her things.”

“Okay, well, since you know her better, you take her bed…”

No!” I said.

“Oh, honey… are you afraid of Puddy?” Amaranth said.

I froze, my lip trembling. Once again I felt like I imagined Two must often feel, caught as I was between my desire not to betray my best friend and my unwillingness to lie, especially to my… um, my other friend.

“Well, don’t be!” Amaranth said, in a combination of her normal, cheery and bright tone, and her tone of command. “I know you’ve had some bad experiences with Barley, and whoever was hitting you, and possibly your whole life before… but… you have to realize that those are exceptions. Most people in this world are good, if you give them a chance to be, and Puddy is your friend and she loves you. Friends don’t hurt each other, even if they do get angry, so you don’t have anything to fear from her.”

I didn’t really have a response for that. Certainly I did believe that Puddy wouldn’t physically hurt me as long as I didn’t get her mad at me again… that theory had worked out well so far… but putting it into words would make it sound worse than it actually was. I figured Amaranth was talking about the ideal of friendship, as she’d read about and as she’d imagined she shared with Barley. We were both living in the real world, now, though, and I could hardly hold Puddy up to some perfect standard of friendship. She didn’t match up to the textbook definition of “best friend”, maybe, but she was the only one I’d ever had… which made her the best that I could hope for.

“Anyway,” Amaranth said. “If you won’t use Puddy’s bed, you can at least take the covers off this one. After all… it isn’t like I can use them.” Her voice was tinged with disappointment.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m certainly not going to cover myself up in your presence,” Amaranth said. “That would be wrong. If you were in bed with me, though, getting under the blanket wouldn’t actually be covering myself, it would be exposing myself… to be honest, I was kind of excited about the idea of spending the whole night in bed with one person, for that reason. I mean, I don’t do a lot of sleeping, anyway, but to actually sleep under the covers… it sounds neat.”

“Oh!” I said. “Well, I guess that would be alright.”

I started to climb into the bed, but Amaranth stopped me with a look.

“Um… were you really going to wear all that to bed?” she asked.

Okay, so jeans weren’t what I normally wore to bed, but Amaranth had come right up with me from the dining hall and I hadn’t been able to bring myself to ask her to leave for a minute while I changed.

“Uh, normally I just wear like shorts and a t-shirt,” I said.

“Oh,” Amaranth said. “Um… it’s just… well… since you can’t actually see my body beneath the covers, I won’t actually be exposed to you if there’s clothing between us, will I?”

I stared.

“You… want…” I stammered, unable to finish the thought, inside my head or out of it.

Amaranth just gave a deceptively meek little nod.

“I want,” she purred.

“I can’t…” I started to say, meaning it quite literally… I didn’t think it would be physically possible for me to take off my clothes in her presence… or in anybody’s. Nakedness was dirty. You only took your clothes off when necessary… like, for getting clean… or, in my case, when you were trying to avoid setting them on fire.

“Start with something easy,” she said. “Your shirt.”

I turned away from her and pulled off my shirt. Somehow, this was trickier than it had ever been before. My arms hadn’t always got in the way, had they? When I somehow managed to get it off and throw it onto the floor, I kept my back to her.

“I’ll let you choose next,” she said. “Jeans or bra?”

I froze, and then undid my jeans and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them… still with my back to her. She’d already seen me without them. In my bra and undies, I wasn’t any more naked than I would have been at the beach, in a two-piece bathing suit… if I would ever wear a two-piece.

“You have such a cute butt,” Amaranth said. As soon as she said the words, I could feel her eyes boring into the back of my panties.

I always found it kind of cute or funny when she said the word “butt.” Most people I knew of about my age said “ass.” “Butt” belonged to those younger, for whom “ass” was still too dirty a word for everyday use, and those much older, for whom “butt” was the height of edginess.

Finding what she said cute didn’t make it true, though.

“I don’t,” I said firmly. “I don’t even have a butt.”

“Oh, you do,” Amaranth said. I heard the rustle of the blanket and the sound of the mattress springs shifting as she stood up, then her voice was getting closer by degrees. “A little one… delicately rounded, not overly protuberant, but not the straight vertical drop of the truly buttless. Steff calls it your ‘cute boy butt.'”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment,” I said, blushing furiously all the same. The prospect of a pair of attractive girls talking about my rear at all was blush-worthy, good or bad. I would’ve turned around to remove my “boy butt” from her view, but then she would’ve been able to see my face.

“But, it is,” she said, from right behind me. She unhooked my bra and then worked the straps off my shoulders and arms with almost contemptuous ease. “Maybe it’s not what everybody looks for,” she said, wrapping her arms around me to cup my bare breasts, “but it does have some advantages over a curvier girl’s… for instance,” she said, leaning in so close that I could feel her lips and tongue on the upper curve of my ear as she whispered huskily, “if I wanted to stick my tongue up…”

I shrieked, jumping as if, instead of brushing against the back of my ear, her tongue really had been probing around my back door. Amaranth laughed. I spun around to see she was almost doubled over.

“Amaranth!” I said, scoldingly. “That’s nasty. Don’t even joke about that!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, somewhat succeeding in pulling herself together. “You’re just so… so… um, anyway, anal play really isn’t as gross as you’re thinking it is, even for humans. That aside, we aren’t mortal creatures.”

“Maybe you aren’t,” I said, wincing at the unintended ire in my voice.

“Most of your body doesn’t even do anything,” Amaranth said, unperturbed. She put a finger in the waistband of my panties, and then stepped around behind me again, her finger tracing around between the elastic band and my skin “So, what’s it for, if not for pleasure?”

I found whole new shades of red to turn as my panties hit the floor. Amaranth bent so that I could feel her hot breath on the back of my neck. The knowledge that I was physically stronger and more powerful than she was disappeared from my head… I was only conscious of the fact that I was a scrawny, skinny little girl and she was a beautifully built woman, and a good eight or nine inches taller than me, at least. I felt absolutely powerless. Her hands trailed down my side as she kissed down the length of my back, stopping with her hands on my all-but-nonexistent hips and her mouth on the base of my spine, just above…. just above…

“Amaranth…” I breathed, my mind flooded with images like Puddy licking the back of a doughnut. “Please… don’t…”

“Don’t worry,” she said, her lips still up against the base of my spine as she spoke. It was an… interesting… sensation. I almost wished she would keep going lower… and immediately felt filthy for even thinking that… but then she did drop a tiny bit lower and flicked out her tongue, the tip actually licking inside the cleft. The thrill that sent through me chased away the dirty feeling, only to be followed by an even stomach-turningly stronger one when I realized just what it was that I was enjoying. Amaranth was already moving, though, nibbling and kissing her way not straight down but in a sidways curve, across the left side of my ass. “I’m just going to do something I’ve wanted to since… well, since I saw you from behind.”

Then, taking care to keep her mouth pressed firmly against me so that I could feel her teeth moving against my skin, she opened her mouth as wide as she could, sucked lightly as if to create a seal, and then bit.

I cried out, actually beginning to fall forward from a mixture of shock and pleasure… if I hadn’t been right next to Puddy’s bed, I probably would’ve fallen over.

It was about the stupidest thing in the world, actually… somebody biting you on the ass. Imagine if I had been somebody who really did enjoy attention from other women in more than the small way I seemed to, and I had been bragging about this encounter to a large group of friends (that, for the sake of this exercise, you must also imagine I have) the next day. “Yeah,” I would say. “This nymph came up to my room and bit me in the middle of my left ass cheek.” Seriously… what the fuck?

None of that was going through my head at the moment, though. Amaranth was biting me… in a place dangerously adjacent to the second dirtiest part of a girl’s body and one that should never be connected with physical pleasure… and it felt so… damned… good.

I’d known about the existence of anal sex before coming to college… it was what gay guys did. Even people as out of the loop socially as I was knew that. I’d originally figured that gay couples always took turns, because only one person could possibly enjoy it, and they probably only did it at all because–and I say this with no offense intended–it was the closest they could come to real sex. Anything else that might come under the heading of what Amaranth called “anal play”… including fingers or hands, mouths, or, you know… toys… well, insofar as I had to think about any of that stuff, I figured the main attraction was of the “oh, gosh, look how perverted and kinky we are” sort… which, I must add, I mostly didn’t find anything wrong with, if it was what somebody was into.

Mostly.

I just couldn’t see it being enough for me. Sex… for how dirty it actually was if you let yourself think about it… was also supposed to be pleasurable. I’d always assumed that the sheer amount of pleasure was enough to overwhelm you, so you didn’t get stuck thinking about what exactly a guy had inside which part of you, until after it was over, and that was why people were able to enjoy it the way they did. “Anal play” didn’t seem like it offered any such possibility.

“Mm, what’s that?” Amaranth giggled. “You want me to bite you harder?”

What? I hadn’t said that! But… somebody was saying it. I could hear her voice. My voice. Why was my voice asking Amaranth to bite me harder? But she did it… and it felt… it felt…

“Oh, honey, are you crying?” Amaranth asked.

I was.

I tried to sum up what had run through my head, to make her understand how I felt like there must be something seriously wrong with me, over and above having cursed parentage, for me to feel any kind of pleasure from the sort of attention she was giving me.

“Dirty,” was all I managed to say, but I think it somehow captured the essence.

“Shh… you don’t have to feel bad for enjoying yourself,” she cooed. “It’s okay… it’s really alright.”

I just shook my head, still crying.

“If you do feel bad… there is something that might make you feel better,” she said gently. “But… you remember what you have to do to get it?”

I did.

I asked for it.

When she pursed her lips and asked me if I was sure that was what I really wanted, I begged her for it. I didn’t just want to be spanked… I needed it. I was so bad, so dirty, that I was about to drown in my own filthiness. I enjoyed things that no good person–no good girl–should enjoy.

I needed to be punished for that.

I needed it.

I didn’t want it. “Want” implied pleasure, implied enjoyment… and that would just be… well… that was why I needed to be punished.

So, there, with me bent over Puddy’s bed–Puddy’s bed… I was touching her bed… I knew she didn’t like me touching her things and I was doing it anyway–Amaranth spanked me for the second time, and for the second time, I felt the rising, swelling tide of something that was almost like pleasure. I did my best to push it away, because I didn’t want to even feel a little bit like I was enjoying it… but the feeling came anyway, almost getting stronger the more I thought about how I shouldn’t be enjoying it, and it brought with it a tremendous sensation of release when it broke.

After that, I let Amaranth lead me back over to my bed and climbed in with her, spending the night wrapped in her arms. Our naked bodies were pressed up against each other, but that was okay, because I’d had all the dirtiness beat out of me, at least for a little while. If I had any dreams, I didn’t remember them the next day.


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2 Responses to “40: Sleepover Games”

  1. Moody Mudiaga says:

    Who even told Two to come to school? I’ve been wanting to ask that.

    Current score: 0
  2. Curio says:

    Oh oh god no it physically hurts seeing her be so frighten optimistic and saying to trust her freind putty when she’s the abuser oh god man this is so fucked up mentally

    Current score: 8