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Pawn of the Living Dead

By: Anna_Malia75



I lost control of my body at 5:46 p.m. Central Standard Time.

That, it turned out, was the very instant that the sun dipped below the horizon. Not that anybody saw it, of course. It had been a miserable day, with the wind coming straight off the lake and blowing the rain sideways. By the time I got back home—home temporarily being an apartment owned by my college roommate's father—after a day of door-to-door canvassing, I was literally dripping wet. Why couldn't they have given me that desk job at campaign headquarters?

I remember glancing at the clock in the foyer as I used my butt to push the door closed behind me; it was 5:45. I was glad that Mr. Adams wasn't there. On Friday afternoons, he went back to his home in the 'burbs, where his wife and younger kids lived. It wasn't that he wasn't a great guy. After all, he was letting me crash at his city place for free while I worked on the election. But he probably wouldn't appreciate the puddle forming at my feet on his very expensive parquet floor. He also might disapprove of me undressing in his foyer. I tossed my sweater down on the linoleum and struggled with difficulty out of the wet long-sleeve tee I had been wearing underneath. I pushed my equally soaked jeans skirt down my thighs and kicked my shoes off.

I hadn't had any intention of looking at my reflection in the full-length mirror in the hallway. But there I stood, staring at myself in my underwear.

I saw what I expected to see: a twenty-three year old half-girl/half-woman recently graduated from the University of Wisconsin. Her wet blond hair was pulled back behind her head in a pony-tail, and her white bra had become nearly transparent. She hadn't been one of the hotties at school; she was a little too chunky for that and her breasts were on the small side. But she had had her share of guys by the way she filled out a pair of jeans.

Without knowing why, I raised my hands to cup my breasts and push them together.

"Mmmm. They are perfect, aren't they?"

The voice that came out of my mouth was mine. The words were not.

Who the fuck was that?, I screamed. I tried to scream at any rate. The words echoed in my head. But the girl in the mirror hadn't opened her mouth that time. Instead, she had pursed her lips as her gaze swept down her body. Her hands followed, sliding down her ribcage to rest on her hips. I shifted my hips back and forth like a salsa dancer.

"Kind of chubby little legs, though, huh?"

What the fuck is going on?

I didn't say that either, not aloud at any rate. Instead, when the girl in the mirror spoke, it was to answer the question, not to ask it.

"Look, sweetie," I watched myself say. "I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to me for the night, capiche?"

Who the fuck—

"Quiet down, honey," my voice said. "Or I'll take care of it myself."

I found myself unable to put my thoughts into . . . thought. But I knew now that there was another presence inside me, a presence that was able to control my voice as well as my movements. 

'That's right, just like that,' she thought. She was talking inside my head now as well. My body was just standing there admiring itself. 

'My name is Ann Buckley,' she continued. 'No need to introduce yourself. You're Nancy McGill. Do you know what today is, Nancy? Go ahead, you can talk again. Enough so I can hear you, at least. What's the date?'

No, please.

The voice in my head was weak and frightened. 

'Come on,' Ann said. 'Guess.'

I felt compelled to do as she said. It's um, three days before the election. Saturday? October, um, thirtieth?

'Close, dear. It's the thirty-first. All Hallow's Eve. The night on which the veil between the living and the dead becomes thinnest.'

The look on my face scared me. My eyes were almost shining, my lips pulled back in a manic smile. She flicked her eyes—my eyes, dammit—back down our body, lingering on the weight I never seemed to be able to take off those thighs.

Halloween? It's a kids' holiday!

'That too,' Ann said with a laugh that bordered on the hysterical. 'But it's also a holiday for a select few spirits, darling. For one evening we get to return to this world. On the Halloween following the day we died, we get one body to use from sundown to sunrise. Not much compensation for being robbed of the rest of our lives, is it?'

Return? You mean you're ... you're dead?

Her eyes came back up and although it was my own baby blues I was staring it, I was conscious that it was her spirit animating them.

'As a doornail, honey.'

I started screaming again. She stopped me.

'Honey, I want to work with you here, but if you keep that up, you're going to be a spectator all evening long. And maybe you've noticed that if I don't let you think, you can't feel. See?'

I watched myself slap my own ass without feeling anything at all.

'On the other hand,' she continued, 'if I let you think, see what kind of fun we can have?'

I felt my hands slide under the waistband of the panties I was wearing. I pushed them down and stepped out of them. 

'Nice thick pussy lips,' Ann thought. 'I always wanted to shave, too. Mmmm, feels good, doesn't it?'

Ann had slid my fingers across my hairless mound and down between my thighs. With my index and ring fingers on either side of my pussy lips, she began to slowly slide my middle finger up and down the wet pink slit between them.

Stop it!

'You love it,' Ann said with a laugh. 'I am so glad I picked you.'

Picked me? Oh, please stop it.

'I could have had any body I wanted. I picked you.' The voice in my head was deep, husky, needful. 'Almost ready to cum, Nancy?'

Oh, fuck! Oh, oh, oh.

I was a demonstrative bedmate and it was torture not to be able to squirm and writhe in response to the ripples of pleasure I was feeling. But the torture just made it that much more delicious. It was like being tied up. My insides were burning up, my fingers finding spots that I hadn't realized were there. In the mirror, I was just standing there playing with myself.

'Good,' Ann said. 'Let's stop right there.'

She pulled her fingers away and the pleasure subsided just this side of a cum.

Bitch! I had been so close.

'Don't worry, Nance. You'll have more than enough fun tonight.'

What are you going to do with me?

'Oh, we can do anything we want,' she thought with a laugh. 'Most guys want to lay some actress or play football. Did you ever notice how badly teams play on Halloween?'

W-what about you?

'Most women usually go for romance, you know? Cuddling with a guy, looking at the sea -- something like that. One last night of what we so often failed to get during our lives, you know.'

I relaxed a little. That didn't sound so bad.

'Me?' Ann asked, grinning at our reflection in the mirror. 'I want revenge on the bitch that killed me.'

K-killed?

'I didn't mention that? This Halloween reincarnation is only for murder victims.'

I started feeling faint. The room started spinning.

'I was poisoned.'

**********

When I woke, I was sitting in at a table in a restaurant. The air was filled with the aroma of oregano and tomato. 

'Welcome back,' Ann said.

Fuck.

'Not yet, honey. Speaking of which, though, I can't believe your underwear drawer. You're not a virgin, are you?'

No!

Ann giggled.

'Easy, girlfriend. Just asking. Lots o' white cotton in there is all. While you were out of it, we stopped at a few places. Check it out."

I looked down. I was wearing a low-cut black sheath, the only nice dress I had brought with me from home. I had been saving it for the election-night party. I tugged the neckline open and looked down. I had on a black mesh bra.

'And matching panties,' Ann said. 'Well . . . matching thong.'

She squeezed my thighs together and I felt—nothing. My hand reached beneath the table and my fingers felt the small strip of fabric that barely covered my slit.

'Oh, and you really shouldn't let your credit card balance get so high. Do you know what the finance charges on that are? Ah, here comes Roberto.'

You used my Visa card? I screamed.

'Our card, darling.'

A smiling waiter approached us.

"Does signorina require more time to decide?"

"Not at all," I said. "I'll have the salmone taglione, the zuppa di pesce, and the tiramisu, with a glass of your house red."

"Yes, signorina," he said, a tear forming in his eye.

What's his problem?

'That was what I always ordered when I came in here. You know, before I died. That's my picture on the wall over there, with Roberto and the owner. And my husband, of course, Allen, the son of a bitch.'

Your husband? You didn't get along?

'Not after I died,' Ann said with a harsh laugh. 'When he married that bitch who put the poison in my wine.'

Your husband married your murderer?

'Two months ago. Six months after I died. Convenient, wasn't it? For both of them, actually, since they'd been having an affair for the previous two years. My death saved him all that messy business of for a divorce and dividing the property.'

The wine arrived along with a salad. I didn't have much of an appetite by this point but Ann was evidently starving. I attacked the food with enthusiasm. The taste was heavenly.

This is delicious. Did you come here often?

'Once a month.' My eyes flickered toward at the picture and I heard a sigh from Ann.

You were very beautiful.

I looked at the picture again. The woman was in her mid-forties, with short brunette hair and a beautiful, heart-shaped face.

'I didn't have much in the boob department,' Ann said, 'but it was a nice package, yeah. Not as nice as Schaefer's, of course.'

Her thoughts dripped with bitter sarcasm.

Schaefer?

'Schaefer Armstrong, Esquire,' Ann said. 'Future partner at my husband's firm.'

So like, um, what exactly are you going to do to this Schaefer and your husband? I mean, if you, like, kill them or something, I'm the one who ends up in jail, you know.

I could feel myself smiling. 

'Don't worry, love. I have something far more delicious in mind. Here comes our salmon. Now why don't you just enjoy this lovely dinner I've ordered us? You will be paying for it, after all. In the tips and on the hips.'

It was a wonderful meal although the size of the check gave me quite a start. Depending on how much the bra and panties had cost, I was getting awfully close to the credit limit on my Visa. 

'Can't be helped, hon,' Ann said as she signed the slip. 'Now we have one more stop before we're ready.'

I climbed into my ten-year-old Tercel and ended up in a seedy neighborhood I had never seen before. We found a parking spot in front of a store whose windows were completely covered in black.

But this is a -- a . . . 

'Sex shop. Let's go. Oh, and while we're in there, why don't you just keep your thoughts to yourself. You're easy to confuse, you know?'

Ann cackled with laughter as I exited the car and strode into a smelly store stocked from floor to ceiling with porn videos. I wasn't interested in those. I took a hard right and stood in front of the sex toys. Without hesitation, I picked out an enormous jelly-filled dildo with straps, a bottle of strawberry scented lube, a pair of handcuffs, and a small riding crop. I laid them in front of the slightly built young black girl manning the counter. She gave me a big smile as she rang me up.

"Nice selection," she said. "You're an unusual sight here. Is there anything else I can get you?"

My eyes flicked around the room, taking in the seedy unshaven men who comprised the store's usual clientele, before meeting the girl's again. 

"There is one more thing actually." I leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Ann whispered actually, so quietly that I couldn't hear my own voice. The girl's face lit up in a smile.

"Right here behind the counter," she said quietly. She took the plastic bag into which she had put my purchases and surreptitiously added whatever it was that Ann had requested.

"No charge for that one," she added with a wink. "Hope you get lucky, girl. The rest comes to $46.82."

What did you ask for? I asked as I handed over my perilously full credit card.

"And spoil your surprise?" Ann answered with a laugh.

We finished our transaction and Ann gave the girl one last knowing smile. "Thanks, love. Got a big evening on Lakeshore Drive."

"Playland of the rich." The girl was impressed. So was I, for that matter.

Wait a minute, I thought as we walked back to the car, I was on Lakeshore Drive this morning.

'I know,' Ann said. 'That's where I saw you. I was already to pick another woman in the neighborhood until you showed up looking so yummy in your wet little outfit. And I know Schaefer thought so too.'

I met her? Oh, God.

'This morning. You were so eager to get out your little spiel that you didn't see the way her eyes went up and down your cute little bod. I didn't even know she swung that way.'

She's the freako who asked me back! The one who wasn't going to vote.

It was the strangest call I had made today. This woman didn't want anything to do with politics—she claimed she didn't think either candidate was fit to be governor. But she did tell me if I needed to get out of the rain sometime, I was more than welcome to stop back.

'Let's just say I encouraged her hospitality,' Ann said.

I started to feel faint again.

You mean all this . . . stuff you bought is for me and . . . and her?

'Exactly,' Ann said, the voice in my head sounding very satisfied. 'Although we will need to soften her up a bit first."

I drove the rest of the way in silence, finally pulling in front of an expensive looking house on the North Side. The rain was still pelting down so I grabbed the bag of goodies and ran for the shelter of the small front porch. I remembered the woman who answered the bell very clearly. 

"Trick or treat," I said in a sultry voice that I barely recognized as my own. I held the bag at my side, not wanting it to interfere with her view of my body. 

Schaefer did her best to hide her reaction, but with Ann's help, it was easy to discern. Her full, red lips parted, the delicate, pointed tip of her pink tongue just visible against her whitened teeth. Her button nose flared, her green eyes widened, and her body seemed to tense. It was an excellent body. Schaefer was probably in her early thirties and two or three inches taller than I was. Even with the bulky sweater and slacks she was wearing, it was evident that she had a well-proportioned figure. Her large hips and slim waist made her boobs look bigger than they really were.

"It's a bad night out there," she said. "You're my first trick-or-treater tonight. Didn't we meet earlier today?"

"We did," I said. "You told me I couldn't talk to your husband because he was out of town until late tonight. And you told me to come back when I needed to get out of the rain." 

I stepped into the foyer. 

"Oh, right," she said. "Sure."

She took a step toward me to close the door. I watched her momentarily close her eyes and inhale deeply. Schaefer locked the door and turned off the front porch light. "Please come in."

I dropped my bag in the foyer and followed her into the living room.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked. "A glass of wine?"

"That would be wonderful."

"You are old enough, aren't you? I would hate to think I was corrupting a minor."

She giggled as she poured the glasses without waiting for an answer.

She's an attorney?

'Go figure,' Ann said, the disgust evident in her thoughts.

"I wouldn't worry about that," I told Schaefer. "For one thing, I'm not a minor."

"And for another?" Schaefer asked.

She handed me a glass of wine and sat down on one end of a lovely white sofa. I sat down right next to her.

"I'm already corrupt," I whispered.

She returned my sexiest smile with a nervous smile of her own. I took a sip of wine.

"You have a lovely home, Mrs . . ."

"Ms.," she corrected me. "Ms. Armstrong."

"Mmmm, I love an independent woman," I said. "You and your husband have a beautiful home, Ms. Armstrong."

"Thank you, um . . . I don't believe I actually know your name." She giggled again.

"Nancy."

"Thank you, Nancy. I'm glad you like it."

'She hasn't changed a fucking thing,' Ann said in my mind. 'Other than to remove my picture from the bookshelves. '

I took another sip of wine and moved my knee against hers.

"Oh, my," Schaefer said, taking a healthy gulp of wine. 

I think I'm going to be sick.

'Oh, come off it,' Ann said. 'You and I both know about your freshman dorm. You and Lindsay? Shall I replay the tape in your head?'

If I had any control of my body at all, I would have blushed. Instead, I reached out to take Schaefer's wine glass out of her hand. I leaned over her to put them both on the side table. My breasts brushed against hers and I felt a shiver ripple through her body.

"And what's your name?" I asked her. "Or would you rather I just call you Ms. Armstrong? I had a teacher named Ms. Armstrong."

"Schaefer," she whispered. "Call me Schaefer."

As I pulled back, I laid my head on her shoulder and she turned to look at me. We met in a long, soft kiss, our mouths opening, our lips exploring, touching. I felt her left hand on my cheek, stroking it lightly with the tips of her fingers. She pulled back and I chased her with my mouth. She was easy prey, her mouth opening even wider as she pushed her tongue between my teeth. I closed my lips around it, sucking on it, feeling her body tremble.

Her hand began to slide down my arm, onto my right hip and once again down my leg. I whimpered and she took my bottom lip between hers, tugging it away from my teeth. 

I whimpered again as she curled her fingers around my thigh and gently tugged at it, urging me to straddle her. Still kissing, I let my thigh slide across her lap. I could feel the dress riding up my hips and the moist contact of my thong-covered slit against her slacks.

It was my turn to take charge. As I moved astride her, I slipped my right hand into her long, dark hair. I let my breasts press against her as I stroked her neck. Our kisses grew harder and hungrier. I moved one leg back, letting it slip between hers, pressing my thigh into her mound.

"So young, so pretty," Schaefer murmured.

"So beautiful," I answered her, whispering in her ear as I delicately bit at the lobe."Have you done this before, Schaefer?"

"No."

"Do you want me to be the teacher?"

She squirmed beneath me. In answer, I let my hips glide back and forth, rubbing my pussy against her thigh.

"Baby," Schaefer said. "This is moving so fast."

I sat up. She cupped my ass, now fully exposed with the dress around my hips, and helped me grind my crotch against her leg. 

"Say, 'teach me, Nancy,'" I said.

"Teach me, Nancy."

"'Teach me, Miss McGill.'"

She swallowed hard. I lifted the front of my skirt, letting her see the black mesh panty that Ann had bought. Schaefer's eyes were riveted. 

"Say it, baby."

"Teach me, Miss McGill."

I grabbed hold of her wrists and lifted her hands to my chest.

"You have beautiful breasts," she murmured, letting her palms rest there.

"Thank you," I said. "I like yours, too."

I reached down and grabbed them in my hands, roughly massaging them through her sweater and bra. 

"Squeeze them," I said. "Like this."

I squeezed her breasts hard in my hands, eliciting a cry of surprise. She did the same.

"Harder, bitch," I ordered. "I like it rough."

She compressed my boobs in her fingers. It hurt, but not as much as I thought it would. It occurred to me that Ann might be blocking some of the pain.


Pawn of the Living Dead



"And you?" I asked, my voice full of husky desire.

"Me what?" she squeaked.

"You like it rough."

It was a statement, not a question. 

"Yes," she agreed.

"Tell me."

I watched her swallow again.

"I like it rough," she whispered.

I pinched her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. She gasped. But I felt her legs trap mine between them, as she sought to bring her thighs together press them against her pussy.

I stood up.

"Too many windows here. Too many kids out tonight."

"Yes," she said. "Windows . . . Kids."

She stood up and walked back to the hallway as if in a trance. I stopped her at the bottom of the stairs, my hands on her waist as I came up behind her.

"You're a strong woman, aren't you?" I whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she said with a shudder.

"What do you do for a living, Schaefer Armstrong?"

"I'm a lawyer."

I reached around her and began playing gently with her breasts again.

"I'll bet you have to be all tough and assertive at work then," I said.

"Yes."

"And when you come home, you want someone to take care of you, don't you?"

"Oh, God, yes," she said, trembling as she sagged back against me.

"Someone who doesn't care that you're a lawyer."

"Yes."

"Someone to tell you what to do . . ."

"No," she said. "Wait, I mean . . ."

"You mean yes, Schaefer. Someone to surrender to."

I began rubbing harder now.

"Oh, God," she repeated. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't want to have to decide what to do," I whispered. "That's why you invited me here."

"Yes."

Her voice was barely audible, meant to answer both me and herself.

"And that's why I came, Schaefer," I told her. "Now be a good girl and wait here."

"Um, okay."

"Okay, Miss McGill," I prompted her.

She hesitated, half a second. It was half a second too long. I pinched her nipples in my fingers and she screamed.

"Okay, Miss McGill."

I retrieved my bag and walked up the stairs into the master bedroom. 

'You'd think the bastard would at least have gone out and bought a new bed,' Anna said as I tossed the bag into a chair. The large king-size bed was covered with a floral comforter that matched the curtains on the windows. 

A door to the right led to an enormous walk-in closet. I quickly went through Schaefer's outfits with a practiced eye.

Looking for something in particular? I asked. 

'Something I saw the little slut in when she—here it is.'

She pulled out an absolutely gorgeous gray suit.

'Like it? Six hundred dollars easy. Fifty percent wool, fifty percent silk. Two crystal buttons in front. Pencil skirt that zips in back. Perfect. Normally you'd wear it with a black blouse underneath and two-inch heels. We'll skip the blouse and double the heels, don't you think?'

I can't wear this! I protested.

'Of course you can't,' Ann said with a laugh, laying the outfit on the bed with the shoes that she had selected. She called out into the hallway. "Come on up, lawyer-girl."

I heard her tentative footsteps on the stairs and then Schaefer appeared in the door. I nodded toward the bed.

"Put it on, lawyer-girl."

"You know, I think this has gone far enough," Schaefer said nervously. "Maybe you should just go now."

I picked the bag up and slowly pulled out the riding crop. I walked around behind her, noting with satisfaction how she just stood in place. I ran the tip of the crop over her ass and between her thighs. I caressed her cheek with it and moved it down her shoulder and then her arm. Then I slid the other end in between my legs, shoving it up and into my soaked pussy. I pulled it out and held it against her lips. They opened slowly, sucking the wet leather into her mouth.

"Far enough, lawyer-girl? You have no idea how far this is going to go."

**********

Schaefer Armstrong was one of those women who would look good wearing a potato sack. In her gray power suit, perched atop four-inch heels that made her slender calves look even longer than they were, she was stunning. Her generous breasts filled the expensive fabric of her blouse like it was so much spandex. Only her eyes -- liquid pools of anxiety -- betrayed the girl that still lived deep inside the woman. 

"Turn," I said, motioning with the crop. "Stop."

A shiver rippled through her body as she stood facing the closet from which she had just emerged.

"Bend over," I ordered her. "Hands on the door jamb."

She complied, thrusting her ass back at me. I slowly walked toward her. I reached out with the crop, hiking the skirt up her shapely legs. She whimpered softly as the leather tip neared the junction of her thighs.

"Remember that I'm your teacher, Schaefer. I have to give you some leeway to make your own mistakes. You'll learn so much more from your own mistakes, won't you?"

"Yes," she murmured. I was slowly pushing the tip of the crop back and forth across the cloth-covered lips of her pussy. 

'Mmmmm, ' Ann said inside my head. 'Smell that?' 

Jesus. It's like—

'Pussy perfume? ' Ann's laugh was low and throaty. 'Eau de "oh, baby." '

I heard my own giggling echo inside my head, and thought it was a good idea that it was Ann, rather than me, who was in control of the voice on the outside..

'True,' Ann said. 'Kind of hard to be the teacher while you're giggling, isn't it? Speaking of teaching . . .'

"Why are you wearing that outfit, Schaefer?" I asked.

"Because—because you told me to."

"And the heels?"

"You told me to." I pulled the crop backward, running the tip along the crack of her ass and pulling the skirt high enough to reveal the filmy black silk nestled between her perfectly round cheeks.

"And these? Why did you wear these?

"Pausing is a mistake, Schaefer." I pulled the crop back and slashed it across her creamy skin. She squealed.

"You picked these yourself, didn't you, Schaefer. I set out the outfit and the shoes, but you changed panties all on your own, didn't you, honey?"

"Yes, Miss McGill."

"They're lovely, Schaefer. They just show off your cute little ass so perfectly. You're excited, aren't you, honey?"

Schaefer moaned and thrust her ass even further back toward me as I returned to stroking her flesh.

"Miss McGill," she whispered, her voice thick with need.

"You want it, don't you?"

"Yes." She drew out the "s" Her voice was a susurrant hiss.

"On the bed, Schaefer. Keep your skirt where it is."

She scrambled to follow my orders, although not with such haste that she didn't arrange herself carefully on the covers with her hair surrounding her like a halo. Her long, slender legs stretched outward in implicit invitation, the pointed toe of her black high heels reaching toward the lower corners of the bed. I stood beside the bed, the crop still in my hand as I traced it slowly up and down her clean-shaven legs. 

"How old are you, Schaefer?"

"Twenty-six, Miss McGill."

"Twenty-six. More than old enough to tell me what you want, aren't you?"

"I want you!" she said in a girlish giggle. She extended her arms toward me, the fiery red nails of her beautifully manicured fingers clutching at the hem of my dress.

'You should hear her little girl act during sex,' Ann said, her voice filled with disgust. '"Oh, baby, you feel so good inside me. So big and full." Like she can feel anything in there. This bitch's cunt has had more cock in it than yours and mine combined. '

How do you know all this? I asked.

Ann laughed. 'I'm a spirit, honey. There's no privacy from spirits. Last Monday she spent her lunch time underneath the desk of the firm's senior partners giving him a blowjob. Then after work she let one of the mailroom boys bend her over her own desk. '

God, she must be some kind of sex addict.

'Far from it, ' Ann said. 'Her expression never changed during either one. It's all a means to an end for this one. The partner can give her a promotion. '

But the mailroom boy, I protested.

'The young man gives her the first look at anything important. '

But what about—

'Allen? My darling widower? '

Yes. Why marry him? Rather than . . .

'Fuck him like the rest? Who knows? As Mrs. Allen Buckley I had access to a number of social circles that would be closed to Ms. Schaefer Armstrong. A better question is why Allen married her. She's not exactly his type. '

But she's gorgeous, I said.

'So was I,' Ann rejoined with a hollow laugh. 'But as I have learned since, Allen likes them much younger. He likes them to look much younger, too. Even you might have too much tit for Allen's liking. '

Seriously?

'She told you he was out of town today? He told his partners he was going to be in San Francisco. Actually, he's in Santa Barbara with one of those college interns the firm hires. Cute little thing with a body like a board.'

"So you never cheated on your husband—Allen?"

'I was one of those naïve little girls who believe in the sanctity of marriage and all that. I had dinner waiting every night, and kept myself in shape and read all sorts of books on how to please a man in bed. But there's no way a forty-five year old woman is going to compete with a twenty-something fuckbunny like this one. Or have the body of one of his little teenyboppers.'

"Miss McGill!" Schaefer interrupted our dialogue with a needy moan. "Do me."

"Do your what?" I asked. 

"My pussy, Miss . . . tress. My fucking pussy is on fire."

"Mmm, mine too, Schaefer," I said with a smug smile. "Now I need to teach you how to make it gush, don't I?"

"Yes, Mistress." 

I dropped the crop and moved forward until I was even with her head. Slowly licking my lips for Schaefer's benefit, I put one knee on the bed and swung my other leg up and over to straddle her. She pushed my dress up my thighs and slid her soft hands between my thong and my skin. I reached down slid the middle finger of my right hand to pull the crotch aside. My lips were already glistening with my own need and the feeling of the cool air nearly brought me down upon her. Instead, I managed to lower myself down with exquisite deliberateness. When I was mere inches away—when my thighs framed only those velvety brown eyes—I took her education one step further.

"Taste me, Schaefer."

"Yes." Her mouth opened.

"That's right, baby. Smell me. Touch me. Lick me. Suck me. Taste me."

She did as ordered. Her nostrils flared as she drank in my scent. She reached for me, parting my lips with those elegant fingers. Her tongue completed a single, slow circuit of my sex. And finally she pursed her lips, sucking my clit into the vacuum of her mouth. I wrapped my hands in that beautiful hair, pulling myself even further inside her, and lost myself in the deliciousness of the moment.

The college year had been only three weeks old when Lindsay began her slow seduction. I was completely innocent, a naïf in the game of sex in general and women in particular. For the next month I was putty in her hands. She molded me into the lover she wanted. After she had tired of me and crushed my heart with the nonchalant suddenness of our breakup, I had turned my attention to men and never looked back . . . until now.

'You wanna focus here, honey?' Ann let a throaty chuckle ripple through my head and cut off the sensations I felt coursing through my body. 'She's good. I'll give you that. And look at her face. '

I looked down. Schaefer had her eyes closed, and her nails dug into my thighs as if she wanted to keep me there forever.

'She's never felt this either,' Ann said. 'Get this.'

I reached back. Schaefer had been writhing on the bed; her legs were tightly closed together, her skirt, formerly bunched around her waist, was now down around her hips. I had to pull it back up before I could slide my fingers down the smooth skin of her mound and underneath the waistband of her black silk panties. She was clean-shaven and I found my thoughts drifting to the feelings my own tongue would create when it met that lovely flesh.

Schaefer groaned into my pussy as my fingers probed her pussy.

'See?' Ann asked. 'She's soaked.'

I reached down and touched Schaefer's nose with my index finger. Her eyes blinked open.

"You're a natural, Schaefer," I said. "You got an A-plus on your first test. Now let's begin your second lesson."

I pushed myself back off her, kneeling to the side as I pulled my fingers away.

"No!" Schaefer protested. "Do me. Please!"

"I will, baby," I assured her. "Let's see a little more of you first."

I reached for her blouse but her hands beat me there, frantically tearing at the buttons as she opened her torso to my inspection. In the meantime, I pulled my own dress off. I took a moment to admire her bra, an exquisite confection of silk and lace that did nothing to hide the hardening of her nipples, before flicking open the hook that held the two cups in front. Her breasts burst free and I squeezed one, letting it spill outward and upward through my fingers. She moaned again as I bowed my head, my other hand cupping the back of her neck and bringing her toward me for a kiss. Our mouths met, our tongues danced, and then I let my fingers drift back down. I felt her stiffen as I probed her sex. I pulled back to watch and put the tips of the fingers of my free hand against her lips. She sucked them inside with the same eagerness with which her pussy tried to pull the fingers of my other hand inside. Her lovely body was bucking and undulating beneath me.

"You like this, don't you?" I asked her.

"Oh God, yes," she groaned.

"You want it."

"Yes," she agreed.

"You need it."

"Mistress!" It was a cry of surrender, stretching her muscles to the breaking point as she reached down to hold my hand between her legs. The next two minutes were a song without words, as her climax played out in grunts and gasps. Finally, she just lay there, too exhausted to move.

"And now it's fucking time," I said.

"Fucking?" Her voice was a weak shadow of itself. Through heavily lidded eyes she watched me get off the bed and strip off my bra and panties. Her eyes widened as I pulled the strapon from the bag and fitted it to me. Back on the bed, I flipped her over on her stomach, giving that gorgeous ass a caress before reawakening her fires. She began moaning again, giving voice to her needs only after I had spent several minutes with one hand in her pussy and the other yanking back on her hair.

"Fuck me, Mistress!" she screamed. "Fuck my pussy!"

I got behind her and put the head of the plastic dick against her and her screams began again.

**********

What was that?

I looked at the clock. It was just past 11:30. I had heard a noise downstairs.

'That would be the beginning of Act Two,' Ann said.

Huh?

"Honey, you awake?" a man's voice called out. "Whose car in front of the house?"

I got up and pulled on a robe. Schaefer was still asleep, curled up underneath the covers, and the room still smelled of a delicious combination of strawberry lube and pussy juice. Before I went downstairs, I reached into my bag.

"Who are you?" the middle-aged man at the bottom of the staircase asked me as I descended.

"Nancy McGill," I answered. "You?"

"I'm Allen Buckley. This is my house."

"And your wife's," I pointed out. "Schaefer's. She invited me in."

"Where is she?"

"Upstairs. She's a little tired."

"From . . .?"

"Making love."

I watched him try to contain his shock and twisted the knife a little more.

"She appreciated my package," I said.

"Your what?"

I opened my robe and Allen gasped. And stared, open-mouthed.

"I know," I said. "It's bigger than yours. But yours was good enough for Kayla Testa, wasn't it?"

"You're threatening me with telling Schaefer?" he asked, suddenly regaining his confidence.

"She doesn't care. Kayla is Tom Testa's daughter, right? The owner of Testa Industries, Prichett and Spencer's biggest client?"

He was speechless once again.

"Put your hands behind your back," I ordered.

"Or you'll . . ."

"Call Mr. Prichett," I said. "Or Mr. Spencer. Or even worse, Mr. Testa. Your choice. Actually, it's my choice. But if you just put your hands behind your back, I don't think we need to wake up any of those gentlemen."

His eyes widened. His hands slowly went behind his back. I smiled as I put the handcuffs on him. 

'Now let's get the son of a bitch's pants off,' Ann said. 'You know, it wasn't until after I died that I learned how small he really is. It's no wonder he likes the young stuff. They're the only ones he fits. '

Holy shit!

'Just plain shit,' Ann muttered.

"If you're planning on taking me upstairs and humiliating me in front of Schaefer," Allen said, "rest assured she already knows I don't have a particularly large dick."

"You will," I said under my breath. I gestured up the stairs and Allen, leaving his shoes, socks, underwear, and pants behind him, preceded me.

What the hell does that mean?

I felt Ann smiling inside my head.

"Hold on a minute, Allen," I said just before we reached the door. "I'd better go first. You stay here until I call, okay?"

I gave him a playful slap on his naked ass and slipped by him into the room.

"Schaefer?"

"Mistress." Schaefer was practically purring as she stretched herself on the bed. 

"Your husband came home."

"Allen?"

"You're not scared of him, are you?"

She giggled.

"Are you afraid he might divorce you?"

She shook her head. "If it's his idea, I get half of everything."

"And if it's yours?"

"If I file before our tenth anniversary, I get nothing."

'Perfect.' That was Ann, inside my head.

What's perfect?

'The only thing I didn't know was how to bring this to an end,' Ann said. 'But this is perfect.'

"Schaefer, why don't you put on your sleeping mask over there and get on your hands and knees."

"More doggy?" she asked.

I smiled and nodded toward the mask.

"I'll be right there," I said. "I need to visit the ladies' room."

As Schaefer assumed her position, I reached into the bag one last time. 

What is that?

'Dildo gag,' Ann said as she took it outside. Allen opened his mouth to protest, but I simply whispered "Mr. Testa" into his ear.

"Now I want you on the bed behind your wife, fucking her with your new toy. Clear?"

He nodded. We went in together and Allen dutifully took his place behind his wife. As he put the dildo at the entrance to his wife's pussy, I took Schaefer's cell phone off the bureau and activated the camera.

"You feel smaller," Schaefer whined as he entered her.

I snapped the picture and quickly sent a copy to my own phone.

"What the fuck!" Schaefer squawked. She tore off the mask and looked back at her husband and then at me. A look of horror spread across her face.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making sure you two assholes suffer for the next ten years. If you get a divorce, you lose everything. If Allen gets a divorce, I'll see to it that you still lose everything, won't I, Allen?"

Ann's former husband simply nodded his acquiescence.

"And if either of you have sex with anyone else—anyone!—I'll make sure this picture gets sent to everyone in your precious little law firm."

"Why are you doing this to us?" Schaefer screamed. 

"What did Ann Buckley ever do to you, bitch?" I screamed back. "Except get in your way on your climb to the top? Except marry out of love the same man you wanted. Fuck you! Fuck both of you! Have fun fucking each other for the next decade."

They were even more horrified now. I grabbed my dress and put it back on as I headed back down the stairs and out of the house.

'Thank you,' Ann said inside my head.

For what?

'The clock struck twelve a minute ago, and I lost the ability to control you. That little speech about Ann Buckley was all you, darling.'




Pawn of the Living Dead



I smiled. It had been worth it.

'It will be when we get home,' Ann agreed.

Oh?

'Whether I'm in charge or not, I can still give you that orgasm you started earlier this evening. As long as you let me, baby.'

My smile was even broader as I started the car and pulled into the road.