2 comments/ 5681 views/ 4 favorites Shella By: ReGats She sloshed gently on the waves of the ocean, clinging just enough to a donut life preserver. Barely conscious, she didn't notice the choppiness of the waves decrease until they were a clear mirror of the sky, nor the vanishment of the clouds above. She barely felt her feet rest against a wooden platform, then her knees, her hips, her entire body settling on a wooden deck with the life preserver as a pillow. A hand gently took her chin, and tilted her head towards a face blurred by her condition. It caressed her cheek gently before she faded out of consciousness. * * * Marilyn slowly awoke, trying to gather her thoughts while she performed the arduous task of waking up. First off, what happened? How did she get home? No, wait. She was lying in on a thin wooden cot, covered with a thin blanket. Her bed was thouroughly comfortable, with fluffy sheets. She would be back in it in half a week's time, as soon as the cruise ended. Hold, on. The Cruise. The one that went horribly wrong and shoved her out into the ocean clinging to a life preserver! Marilyn's senses bypassed the traffic jam of her usual wake-up routine, and hopped into overdrive. She sat straight up in the bed, glancing around with the sheets clutched to her chest. Her bed was thin, and severly off-white. It was in a room made out of greyish-silver panels of wood. Next to the bed was the life preserver. Lying over a poorly-made rack were her clothes, comprising of a dress and her underwear. Marilyn did a quick double-take under the covers to confirm that, yes, she was sans clothing. Marilyn slowly stood up, looking around with caution and clinging to the covers as a make-shift dress. There was a net filled with glowing rocks hung to the wooden ceiling, and the wooden floor, though uneven, wasn't rough and unpleasant. It was a bizarre feeling of different finished woods being nailed together, warped, and then sanded, like a poor woodscraft project given an expert finish. Marilyn checked her body for any injuries. As far as she knew, her bland white skin was nothing to write home about, though remarkably free of blemish. Somehow, despite being thrown off-board a sinking ship, there were no cuts or bruises. She didn't feel any pain from any injuries, either, so she must be okay physically. As there was only one door, opposite of the bed, Marilyn opened it cautiously, peeping outside. It was a similarly-made hallway, with similar net-and-rock 'chandeliers' hanging from it. There was a door opposite hers, and two more doors on opposing sides further down. Marilyn gently sneaked out, trying to close the door quietly; it still groaned with water-infested age. At the end of the hallway closest to her was another door. She also opened and peeked around that one, and flung it open when she saw clear blue daylight. Marilyn nearly rushed out onto the wooden deck before her, but paused when she remembered that she only had a bed cover to cover herself. "Yeah, your clothes were too damn wet to be any good, and I wasn't sure what would fit you." said a husky woman's voice. Against the wall next to the door, a figure stood up, and turned to Marilyn, who had nearly dropped her sheet when she first heard the voice. "My name is Shella, and I am the captain of this vessel," said the woman, bowing politely. She was a little taller than Marilyn when she stood up straight, and dressed more or less like a pirate. Smooth, large breasts threatened to burst out of the near-brassiere-like button-down shirt, with sea spray making it cling to, and outline, the nipples. The cloth pants clung tightly to her wide hips and thighs, shredded above the knees, and they were so low Marilyn imagine she could see the beginnings of Shella's buttcrack if she turned around. Between the pants and the chest was a tight, muscled abdomen, with a torn pirate's flag tied around the waist, just above the pants. A faded red bandanna kept the woman's wavy sea-weed green hair out of her eyes, which were themselves solid emerald orbs. Her nose was petite and slightly curved, but her ears were much like the fins of a fish, plus some thickness. The entirety of the woman was well-formed. She was thin where it counted and curved where it counted, with the entire body covered with bronze-colored skin. It was like the unrealistic stereotype of women was incarnated as a bizarre pirate. Marilyn was frankly shocked. "I found you shipwrecked, and decided to bring you aboard. Be glad I did, because the stuff in these waters are...rather interesting, to say the least. What's your name?," Shella continued. "Uh, er, m-meh-Marilyn. Di-di-did you strip me? Where are the other seamen? Where am I? What's going on?" asked Marilyn, rapid-firing questions. "Hello, Marilyn. For your questions: Yes; there are no others; on a supernatural ship called The Sea Lilith; and some pretty serious stuff," Shella grinned. Only then did Marilyn notice the slightly-pointed teeth and the fin-like ears. "Come on to my cabin, we can talk more there, and maybe find you something to wear." Marilyn's hand was grabbed, and she was dragged off asking, "Do you eat humans?" Shella took Marilyn to the other side of the deck, where a tall wooden facade bordered by stairs held and impressively ornate set of pale wooden doors. "Strict definition, no," she answered as she opened the door. The doors opened up into a large cabin section, with glass windows on three sides looking out to the calm seas. In the center of the back wall, a large bed with ornate, but tattered, sheets was physically molded with a raised dais, and the bedposts spiraled into wooden columns connecting ceiling and floor, carved with ornate sea-life of all times and places. One side of the room was occupied with a variety of racks and a large freestanding closet, with clothes of all sorts strewn on the racks. The other side seemed to have an aquarium exhibit growing out of it, with coral, soaking rocks, and anemones growing into the floor and parts of the wall. Shella guided Marilyn to the clothing, and took the cover out of her hands. Marilyn's face flashed into red-hot embarrassment, and her arms quickly covered her breasts and groin. "Oh come on, it's nothing I haven't seen before," said Shella. "I'll be returning the bedsheet to its room. Take a look at what could fit you and what you like." Shella turned and departed, hips swaying with a confident gesture. Marilyn sat down on a nearby stool, looking through the rainbow cascade of clothing before her. There were Arabian belly-dancing clothes that looked as thin as tissue paper, sweeping dresses that seemed to be ripped on the front, and even exotic body coverings akin to a wetsuit made out of spraypaint. Eventually, Marilyn found some white clothes that seemed vaguely like a woman's toga, and a corresponding pin emblazoned with a trident and waves. She jumped as the door creaked open and shut again, letting Shella in. "Got anything in mind?" Shella asked. "Well, there is this toga thingy..." hesitated Marilyn. Shella leaned on Marilyn, her hand uncomfortably close to Marilyn's breasts. "Hmmm," mumbled Shella, "The dresses are too ripped, the belly-dancer only works with someone who isn't as pale as you are, and the skin-tights are for some seriously kinky stuff. You aren't comfortable with rope bondage, are you?" Marilyn looked at Shella in the same way one might look at the products that came out of Japan. "What the hell is going on here?!" she asked. "Get some clothes on, then I'll explain. I'm getting a itch just from looking at you right now, and clothes would help that," said Shella. Marilyn, face flushed with red, hurriedly put on the toga and attempted to fasten it with the pin. Shella sighed at her clumsy attempts, reached over, and deftly fitted the toga and pin together, making it rest somewhat tightly on Marilyn. It seemed to cling to her around her slightly curved stomach and decidedly average breasts. "There, much better," Shella commented, then she walked to and sat down on the bed. "You'll want to be sitting down for this one, honey." Marilyn, near obediently, sat down on the stool. Shella sighed, and began to talk. "You have been taken to an alternate dimension, some kind of universe that lashes out to other universes and picks up a very specific brand of faceless. It's a one-in-a-trillion chance to get sucked here, and as far as I can tell, you are trapped once you get here. There is no escape. This world is made out of pieces; the ocean is just a small part of it. I've seen metal plates in the sky, anchored my ship at desert islands, and docked at ruined castles. I have seen manors and deserts in the distance, and have met with a good many inhabitants. This place is the ultimate fantasy. There is no fear of child in this realm, nor is there of age, disease, or death, from what I know, so people fuck whomever. It's like Aphrodite's playground on new positions, combined with whatever sins can be imagined. I have spent most of my entire existence here, though I've lost count on the years. It could be decades or centuries to me." "You were lost at sea, creating a larger opportunity for this Pleasure World to suck you in," continued Shella. "You are now in a realm in which any sexual fantasy can be satiated, any lust fulfilled, and any act enacted. If you're wondering why this is so monotonous, it's because you're my 23rd ever pick-up from the sea." "Wait, so you've done it with..." murmured Marilyn. Her mind was filling with new and interesting things to do with men she could possibly meet. "Just about everything. Mostly male sailors, though there is the few women sailors. Even did it with a vampire once. Turns out they suck in-bed. Never fuck one. I've even done it with a shark-man. And before you ask, I was human, but now I'm cursed to this ship and can breathe like a fish." Proving her point, Shella leaned to one side, allowing a good view of her neck and ribs below her breast. Each section had three gill slits, almost imperceptible in the clear air. There was a pause as Marilyn soaked in the information. "I'm sorry, but did you say there was no escape?" she asked after reflecting on Shella's words. "Eyup. No escape," Shella replied simply. No Escape. Those words took up her mind. It was true she had no immediate relations, though she was thinking of getting a cat. She didn't keep close contact with her parents, she had no siblings, and few friends. But there was still real life! Tasks to get complete, things to do, people to meet. To be fair, she'd probably never go out a try to meet people, but still. Finally, she asked, "What now?" Shella flopped back on the bed, and said, "We sail onwards. Other than sex, there isn't much to do. I've never met a bad storm here, everyone is friendly - somehow - and it has been more than a week since my last passenger. As far as I can tell, I am little more than a glorified ferry." "Seriously, only sex?" asked Marilyn. She considered a few things. She wasn't a virgin, not since High School, and had had sex a few times beyond that, but she was always embarrassed by the entire concept. Here in wonderland, she still felt burdened by modern sensibilities. It was a bit foolish, all of it. "Well, I did come across a communal village of women, and they had set up a net as a wall and bopped a ball across it, but other than that, yeah." Shella propped herself up on her elbows. "Are you getting any ideas?" "Maybe..." said Marilyn with hesitation. She wasn't all that into women, but she was damned if Shella didn't have some appeal to her smooth flesh. "I'll have to think about it. Is there any such thing as food in this world, by the way? I'm not sure if my growling stomach is a hallucination or not." "Yeah, totally. Come with me." Shella got up, and led Marilyn across the main deck, though the hallway with the room she woke up in, and into a kitchen. The kitchen had a smooth countertop and several cupboards. "I still haven't decided if food is needed here. All I know is that it tastes good, but ultimately doesn't affect the weight. I honestly haven't felt the need to eat since I got cursed." Marilyn opened a cupboard to find a wooden bowl with bread rolls in it. Another one had a bowl with large, slightly translucent fruit in it, and a third had dried strips of meat. She took one of each, leaned against a wall, and started sampling each. The bread rolls felt warm and puffy, as if they were freshly baked. It was a little slice of home-style heaven. The meat, though dried, still had a slightly spicy taste, and managed to be tender. The fruit was the best of all. It was sweet, like candy, and juicy. It was as if a jelly bean was mixed with a watermelon into something the size of a pear that had no stalk nor pit nor seeds. When she was done, Shella guided her back to the deck. "Is there anything else of interest?" asked Marilyn. "Yeah, all downstairs. It's this way." Shella led the way to a set of downwards stairs hidden behind the stairs to the upper deck. Journeying down, more of the nets and glowing rocks led the way in the pale-wooded ship. The bottom led to another set of doors. Opening them, Marilyn gasped. The room was as large as the bedroom, and at least twice as high! It also had the three exterior walls with windows, but they were much closer to the water level. Corals in pale blues, pinks, greens, and more clustered along the walls. Against the back wall, where a bed would be, was a cluster of rocks tightly seamed together, forming a pool with clean water in it. "You have a bath?! On a ship?!?!" Marilyn exclaimed. "Well, clothes are kinda boring for me to wear. I love the outfits on other people, though, especially when they work so well. I just used the ship's magic to make a bath with clean, fresh water," said Shella. "This is the room where I spend most of my time. I may be cursed, but I still enjoy water." "Now, if you don't mind me," Shella said nonchalantly. She unbuttoned the sole button on her shirt, standing with a clear view for Marilyn. The large breasts, free of their captivity, hung and jiggled free for a moment, before firmly placing themselves angled away from their imprisoned placement, the dark brown areola managing to contrast to Shella's already darkened skin. The shirt was placed on a coral outcropping shaped like a coat hook, soon joined by the pirate flag. Shella undid the belt in full view of Marilyn, slyly glancing at her face. Marilyn was absorbed by the smooth tanned orbs that firmly hung from Shella's chest, her smooth and tight belly, and with an unbuttoning of the fly and a quick slide, Shella's hairless vagina. Shella turned around, exposing her firm, round buttocks to Marilyn as she hung up her pants and belt. "I'm going to have a soak. I'd love for you to join me." Shella, naked and swaying with the intent of seduction, arced her leg over the side of the bath, then placed one foot, then the other. She settled in on a ledge, with her legs wide open , her nipples teasing above the water's edge, droplets of water clinging to glistening skin. "Umm. Err. Pardon me!" Mariyln said, then rushed out the door and on to the deck. She placed her hands on the railing, and looked out onto the ocean. It's one thing to be told you're in a world of mindless sex, but it's another thing to have mindless sex in said world. Marilyn knew Shella was pretty, even beautiful by some standards, but pointy teeth were not in the list of things that Marilyn got wet about. Besides, she had only done it with guys! Marilyn took a deep breath, then looked out over the calm seas. It was true Shella had only invited her into the bath. Shella might have innocuous intentions. Shella, the amphibious woman who apparently slept with, or at least had sex with, a shark-man. Chances are, that bath was going to be about sex. Marilyn didn't feel ready for that yet! Moping, Marilyn climbed the stairs to the upper deck. In addition to a steering wheel that had seen better days even when it was missing a third of itself, there were a few low boxes attached to the ship through coral growths and some kind of moss-like stuff. Marilyn sat down on a box, and continued to just stare off into the distance. She judged that the ship was moving, but the entire ocean seemed all same-y. It was just a big sparkling mirror that reflected a seemingly endless blue sky. The sky was getting darker when Marilyn heard footsteps going up the creaky staircase. Shella stepped on to the top deck, fully clothed, if damp. "Hey," said Shella. Marilyn just mumbled back. "It'll get to be night time soon, and there is such a thing as sleep in this place. You can use that crappy cot you awoke on, or you can sleep in my bed. It's absolutely massive." Marilyn turned to face the fishy captain. "What was it like when you first came here? How long did it take for you to start, well, having sex here. And who was the first one?" Shella scratched her nose. "Well, I wasn't exactly a virgin when I first came here. Female pirate, even before gills, so things happened. And I was cursed before I got here. Getting the curse still makes me want to throw up. After that, everything else seems normal and natural. 'Course, I had the ship with me, so I didn't exactly lack for transportation." "Actually, the first one I did it with was a merman," continued Shella. "Pretty handsome, and had pretty rainbow-colored scales. He'd been here longer than I had, so he explained this world to me. I guess I was glad for it, getting here. Back home, I was cursed into being a monster. No personal relationships, everything trying to kill me, so I killed them back. Here, I did it with a fuckin' fish-man! And everyone was accepting of the fangs and claws and more." "Yeah, but how long did you wait until your first time here, in this world," Marilyn asked emphatically. "Well, it took me a couple of days to sort out where I was. I actually asked the merman for directions! He gave me a couple of maps, and the price was a good time. Found out a few more things, but that's spoilers," returned Shella. "So, no more than a week. It would've been faster if I'd found someone before then. Why did you ask? Cold feet?" "Yeah," said Marilyn. "I've been teleported to a fantasyland and I still just can't let it go. Plus, I just can't lie about this: My looks. I mean, there must be thousands of women here, and they probably look better than me. You look better than me, and you've got slits in your neck and under your boobs!" "Hey," said Shella, taking Marilyn's hands into her own, "Wanna hear some thoughts? Your eyes are as green as the forest, verdant and lush. Your lips are the envy of red roses, and your hair is made of gold." "You took that out of a poetry book," said Marilyn. "I may be a pirate, but I'm book-learned enough on how to give some proper comments," Shella said. "It's just about night-time, so I recommend getting a bed for some sleepytime. Crappy cot? Or captain's quarters?" Marilyn paused to give some thought, mind trailing onto Shella's bed. Even with nibbled and ripped sheets, it looked like a heavenly cloud compared to the cot's sheet-of-rock-ness. "Captain's Quarters," she said. Shella guided her back into Shella's bedroom. The bed was as wide, and as long, as a car. A collection of patchwork pillows, no two sharing the same colors, were clustered along one end, with a sheet guided over everything. "Honestly, I don't have anywhere else to sleep, either, and the bed's big enough for the two of us. I hope you don't mind company." "Why do you even have an extra bed, then?" asked Marilyn. "For guests, I suppose. Some prefer sleeping solitary. Plus, there's sometimes more than one extra person on the ship sometimes, so having extra beds is useful," Shella answered. "Do you have anything kind of sleepwear?" asked Marilyn. Shella "Just this outfit," said Shella. "Day clothes, I got. Sleep-clothes, not so much." "Besides," Shella said as she untied the flag around her waist, "I just sleep in my pants." She proved her point by tossing aside the flag, popping the button on her shirt, then throwing that on top of the flag. Shella's large, smooth breasts were sure as hell not getting any smaller, from Marilyn's second look at them. Marilyn felt her face burn up, again. "But, err, but what about this toga? It's not exactly sleep-wear!" Marilyn said. "You could ditch it for tonight. Sleep in the nude. I've done it before, and others have done it before," said Shella. "I know I wouldn't mind seeing more of your smooth, creamy skin again." "I think I will just wear it to bed, then." Marilyn peeled back the covers on the bed, lay down in it, and tried to go to sleep. On the other side, Shella flopped down. It took Marilyn quite a while to finally drift off to sleep. She kept on looking at the orbs that proudly perched on Shella's chest, just imagining what it'd like to have them felt, or to feel them. * * * Marilyn awoke to the sound of grunts and sobs. The faint light given off by the rock-and-net chandeliers allowed her to see Shella on the other side of the bed. Shella twisted, her back arching into the air and hands trying to swipe away imaginary assailants. The gills on Shella's neck and ribs gasped open and close, trying desperately to draw in oxygen that wasn't needed. "Shella! Shella, wake up!" Marilyn hissed, gently nudging Shella's shoulder. "Gah!" Shella yelled as she sat upright. "You were having some kind of nightmare," said Marilyn. "Huh? Oh, yeah, those. They happen occasionally. Sometimes, I can remember them. They tend to be about this curse thing. They're pretty much the reason why I have a spare bed for people to use," Shella said. "Is there anything you'd like to share with me about them?" asked Marilyn. Shella just sat for a while before speaking. "...Imagine something horrible. Something truly disgusting. A kind of hideousness that can only be a cursed existence. Try feeling it forcing itself into your body, through whatever means it can. Try bleeding from its passage. The curse's implementation was far worse than that, and the nightmares are just snatches of it." said Shella. "You know, I killed a lot of people. Just random sailormen, a few pirates, a hell of a lot of soldiers. All for the sake of trying to get it out of my mind. Then, when I thought I'd gotten rid of it, I get transported here. A new place, somewhere to be something new. I let go of my inhibitions, and for once, it felt good. I felt good." Marilyn couldn't say anything. There were no words to add to this. "Yeah, I want to fuck you," said Shella. "I want to fuck you because, Marilyn, you are beutiful. You're stuck here, same as me. You need just a little bit of guidance. It'll be better if you just let go, and accept the world around you. I want to help you with that, because gods know I am not the weirdest thing you could ever fuck." Well, at least your intentions are possibly pure, thought Marilyn. "I guess, well, sure. Fine. Let's do it, Shella." Shella gently reached over and kissed Marilyn on the lips. She pulled Marilyn closer to her, getting a better fix on her mouth. Marilyn opened her lips, allowing Shella's tongue to dart inside, meet and greet Marilyn's own. Her long tongue was slightly rough, like a cat's. Shella fumbled at the clasp holding Marilyn's tunic on, undoing it and tossing it off the bed with a clatter. The tunic fluttered off of Marilyn's pale shoulders and unfolded off her breasts, exposing the pink nipples to the night air. Shella's lips tasted of sea salt, her saliva mixing with Marilyn's as they crossed tongues. Shella rolled atop of Marilyn, straddling her and gently pushing on top of her. Shella broke off her kiss to travel downward. The sea-salt lips tickled down the neck, across the collar-bone, then in between Marilyn's modest breasts. She kissed the bases of Marilyn's breasts, sending up pleasant buzzes where they were touched. Shella parted her lips, allowing her long pointed tongue to roll out. The tip ringed around the bottom of Marilyn's left breast, slowly working up towards the hardening nipple and trickling in little streams inside Marilyn. Shella's tongue just flicked the tip of Marilyn's nipple, causing her to squeak. It flicked again, before crossing over to the right breast and massaging across it, tracing rings leading up to the nipple, and flicking it. "Tell you what," Shella said, sitting upright, "Let's get to my bath." There was an ancient creaking, like an old mansion settling. Shella got out of bed, and helf out a hand for Marilyn to accept. Shella led Marilyn to the side where there was formerly a cluster of coral and reef growth. The gentle tugging on Marilyn's hand led her down weathered steps, until they entered into the bath cabin. Several of the corals were glowing blue in the dark, and the pool's water glowed blue, as if lit from below. "There wasn't stairs there before, right?" asked Marilyn. "This is my ship. I can control how it's structured." answered Shella. Near the pool, Shella peeled off her pants, bronze flesh tantalizingly lit from the blue glow. Marilyn's toga just fell to the floor easily. Shella stepped into the stoney basin, giving Marilyn a hand for support. A blue underglow blazed across the bottom of Marilyn's and Shella's breasts and pelvis, the glow from the pool one of the few sources of light in the night. Marilyn gently settled one of the ledges, pussy slightly open. The small patch of fuzz above it soon plastered to the skin with water's introduction. The water was warm, and physically felt clean and pure. Marilyn ducked quickly below the surface to wet her upper body, plastering her golden hair to her back. Her cunt felt puffy and hot, Shella's playing working its way in. Shella leaned over Marilyn and whispered in her ear, "There's a reason why I prefer the water. I can exploit my talents here." She ducked under the surface, seaweed hair floating. Neck and rib slits opened and closed, working as naturally as breathing. Marilyn could see everything Shella was doing with the water's clarity. Shella's hands guided Marilyn's thighs gently apart, fully exposing her pussy to Shella. Shella's long tongue drifted out, and she gently licked at an outer lip. Marilyn shivered with pleasure as Shella's tongue caressed up and down, tracing the folds and lines of Marilyn's womanhood. The dull pink tip traced the folds of the labia, lining the outskirts of pleasure. Without warning, Shella pressed her lips to Marilyn's pussy, licking and slurping at the opening, her nose rubbing against a little fleshy button that shocked and numbed Marilyn, sending in waves senseless happiness. The tongue lashed around, licking and flicking at pink folds, sending sparks inside. The tongue's rough texture dragged on the skin, rubbing it like a precious gemstone. Marilyn thought she could take no more. Just as she thought she was going to lose it and orgasm, Shella stopped and drew back. "Heyyy," complained Marilyn. Shella emerged from the water partially, water dripping off her bronze breasts and seaweed-green hair clinging to her skin. "I stopped because I don't want this to stop. All too often, it's just one little orgasm, and then they're done. Besides, I want to try out some things." The ship creaked, a great moaning that sounded like an entire forest suffering in the wind. Marilyn twisted around and gasped. She could see through the windows behind her. The sea was approaching higher and higher, eventually submerging the bath cabin, then going higher yet. They were sinking! "It's faster traveling underwater. Besides, the way the moonlight pierces the waves is just magical," Shella said, drawing close to Marilyn, her groin next to Marilyn's buttocks. "Look out into the ocean for this next part, please." Marilyn could barely begin to gaze out into the clear infinite water that faded into darkness before she felt Shella's second attempt. A hand circled her to gripe her right breast, while another one reached down into the soaking slit between Marilyn's thighs. She squeaked as the hand on her right breast began to methodically stroke the smooth flesh, then rubbed up and pinched the nipple with thumb and forefinger. Between her legs, fingers found the clit, the fleshy button that had nearly driven Marilyn over the edge earlier. Two fingers slid side-by-side around the clit, rubbing it in a pincher fashion. They then withdrew, then the fingers touched the top, tingling it, then moved in circular patterns, swirling the little fleshy button. Whatever way it was rubbed, Marilyn could feel knots unwinding again, doors unlocking through the key of touch. The fingers then shot downwards, and two curled inwards, piercing the lips and thrusting inside, causing Marilyn to peep in surprise. A palm crushed her little hard clit, and the hand rocked back and forth, bringing the fingers in deeper and then drawing them out. Marilyn could feel her mind go numb as an orgasm approached, her groin crying out in pleasure. With a moan, the dam broke; Marilyn's mind grew blank and a spurt of water splashed on to Shella's left palm. Marilyn's hips quivered, shaking, as her pussy clamped around Shella's fingers, and a long groan escaped from her lips. As Marilyn's activity subsided, Shella withdrew her hands and Marilyn turned around. "I think that was the best thing I've ever felt!" Marilyn exclaimed with joy. "Glad you think so," Shella whispered, so close to Marilyn's face. They tilted together, lips touching once again for a kiss. "I hope you want more." "Please?" Marilyn asked, batting her eyelids. "Heh. Glad to be of service," Shella said, before diving back in for another kiss. She floated back aways from Marilyn, lying on her back with pert nipples poking out of the water. "Hey, swim out on top of me, please?" Marilyn smiled, the general idea forming in her mind, then splashed towards Shella. They embraced in the middle of the large bath; it was deeper than Marilyn had expected, and she was forced to tread water. Everytime she kicked with her right leg, though, it would graze Shella's pussy. Marilyn giggled as she felt a smooth, powerful thigh accidently touch between her legs. Shella settled into floating on her back. With Mariyln hugging her, their heads were barely above water. Marilyn hooked her arms around Shella's waist and brought her right thigh in between Shella's legs; she could feel Shella doing the same. With a gentle kiss, they began grinding against each other's thighs. Marilyn's pelvis pressed against Shella's thigh, crushing her clit and spreading her lips. Rocking back and forth, Marilyn watered her desires on the thigh of Shella's leg, and she could feel Shella doing likewise. Shella moaned into Marilyn's kiss, before breaking it and tilting her head to one side. Marilyn kissed the side of Shella's cheek, then her jawbone. There was a faint aftertaste of fish, but it didn't bother Marilyn. Marilyn licked Shella's fin-like ear, then continued downwards, kissing and licking her neck. The gill slits were right next to Marilyn's lips. She could see then arch upwards in release, then flatten to the surface again. She gave one an experimental lick, and was rewarded with a giggle from Shella. Marilyn's thigh pressed harder against Shella's pussy, feeling the slick lips and a tiny button grind themselves against Marilyn. In response, Shella's thigh tried even harder to flatten Marilyn's pussy, giving it greater traction. Shella started sighing with each thrust of her pelvis against Marilyn, then groaning. Her thigh clenched, making Marilyn rub against Shella harder. Together, they built up the pleasure inside, rubbing leg muscle against womanly flower, scraping in an embrace in the water. Finally, Shella's moans became short, then she gave a long moan, arching her back and slamming her thigh into Marilyn's clit, simultaneously releasing her boundaries as well. Marilyn moaned with Shella, pussies twitching and orgasming. After they rode the waves to silence, Marilyn and Shella kicked back to the ledges. "Will that do for tonight?" asked Shella. Marilyn felt a happy glow come from her body. "Yeah, that'll do." * * * A week had passed since that first act, and it hadn't stopped from there. At various parts of the week, Shella would invite Marilyn to a bath, one most pleasurable, as she sunk the ship for faster and uninterrupted travel. Among these times, Shella brought in some more of her gifts; Marilyn had sucking barnacles placed on her nipples, ran herself aground on an ornate dildo-like thing, and tightly strapped a water-breathing medallion to herself so that Shella could do things to her underwater. "Your passage on my ship is almost over, Marilyn," Shella said one day. "You've been on here for a week, and damned if it hasn't been a good one. But land is coming up, and I can't have anyone else as a permanent aboard the ship." "Wait, what? What will I do?" asked Marilyn in a flurry of confusion. "This world is easy to navigate, and people should be friendly; you'll easily survive. But before you go, I want to show you something." Shella took Marilyn's hand, and gently tugged her down to the Bath cabin. "I don't think you have any more kinky tricks, Shella," said Marilyn. "True, but there's more to this room than just a bath." With a wave of her hand and a cracking of wood, a door grew out of the wall opposite the window. It had no handles, but only had a stone-like plate where a lock or handle should be. Shella placed her hand over the plate, and gently pushed the door open to a darkened room. When Shella and Marilyn stepped inside the room, glowing coral gently sprang to life, growing to the end of the hall-like room. Various underwater plants and growths grew to life as Shella passed them. On the floor, lining either side of a tattered red carpet, were four wooden chests, each no more than two feet long and two to a side. At the end of the red carpet, on a raised pedestal of coral and reef growth, stood a small chest with ornate gold inlay on it. "This is my treasure room. After all, what is a pirate without her treasure?" said Shella. She opened up the closest chest; it was filled, nearly to the brim, with milky white pearls of different sizes and translucencies. "Every single one of these chests is filled with these pearls. It's a bit of a hobby of mine." "What about the ones in that small chest up there?" asked Mariyn. "That is for special pearls," Shella answered. She got up and walked to the box, Marilyn following her. Shella opened it, and inside were pearls that were the colors of the rainbow. Red pearls, green pearls, purple pearls, all of different sizes and opaqueness. "How do you get these pearls?" asked Marilyn, gazing into an ocean's rainbow of smooth orbs. Shella stood close to Marilyn, rubbing her shoulders. She slid the toga off of Marilyn's shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Shella placed a hand just below Marilyn's belly-button, and with a quick thrust, slid her hand inside Marilyn's body. Marilyn gasped at the sensation, and was prevented from doubling over by Shella's hand. It felt like her flesh was wet italian noodles being thrust apart by a wedge. She could hear a sound, like two soaked pieces of flesh being rubbed together. There was no pain; Marilyn didn't think it pierced like an injury. Rather, it bypassed her flesh entirely while digging for something. Marilyn could feel the wedge curl around an odd feeling below her stomach, something that she hadn't noticed before. The wedge withdrew itself from her body, and Shella brought a clenched fist level with Marilyn's eyes. Shella unfurled her fingers and there, in the middle of her palm, was a large, obsidian-black pearl. Marilyn stood there shocked. Shella looked like she was going to say something relevant, but was interrupted by the black pearl with her mouth open. "Marilyn, I think I love you!" exclaimed Shella before throwing her arms around Marilyn and kissing her passionately. "Mmmph! Hold it, hold it! That was in me?" asked Marilyn, interrupting Shella's kissing spree. "Yeah. I dunno what it is, but the act of sex with another person, for me at least, creates these pearls. Most of them are white, some of them are fancy colors, but this is the first ever black pearl I've gotten from anybody!" squee'd Shella, gazing into the pearl. "Let me guess, it's based on the sex." said Marilyn. "Yup, though I think there might be some relation to whom I'm with. All men I've fucked have given me a white pearl, and it's always been inside me. I think the location of the pearl is based on the more submissive party. The colored pearls are from more fantastic encounters, mostly women. There's a big orange one in there I fished out of myself after fucking what looked to a combination of a centaur and a fish." said Shella. "But this actually means hope isn't lost!" continued Shella. "Hope lost for what?" Marilyn asked, feeling more and more out of the loop. "This place may feel good, but it doesn't have any of the qualities or dangers of life to it. Actual life! Like one you came from! I've been collecting pearls in a kind of dull hope that I can pay my way out of this damned world and back into my own. I've been told by a guy with a bizarre thin bird head and a man-dress that I need a necklace of 10 Black Pearls as an exit fee to return to my own world. This is the first time I have ever gotten one!" "Wow! Good for you!" said Marilyn, a grin creeping across her face. Shella's joy was downright infectious. "I think it was because I let the pearl sit inside you for a long time. I could have just popped it out of you after every time we had sex. Gods know I did that with men. Having these things inside me just feels weird." said Shella. "Where are you going to put it? Those other chests look a bit full. Either that, or you'd lose it inside them." said Marilyn. Shella turned to the back wall. There was a collection of snapping and cracking noises as an elaborate display of coral grew up into a circular display, with 10 indentations forming around as a circle. She walked over to it, and gingerly placed the black pearl in one of the indentations. She stepped back to Marilyn and just gazed at it. "You know, I don't think I could ever get another one like that from you. Besides, it'd infuriate the ship, you staying onboard." The ship groaned, then bumped up against something, jolting Shella and Marilyn, but not touching the pearls. "Ah, we've landed. It's time for you to get off, as much as it pains me. Oh, and don't forget your toga." said Shella. Marilyn put her toga back on, then followed Shella above decks. The ship had docked at a massive stone pier jutting off into the water, with a gentle beach sloping up towards green fields of grass, the occasional light grey rock, and, in the distance, massive white collums of marble. A tired gangplank was leaning on to the pier from the side of the ship. "Now I wish I had shoes," commented Marilyn idly. "There's a pair of sandals at the end of the pier, Marilyn," said Shella, looking out towards the shore. "Is this really the last time I'll sea you? What are the chances we'll ever meet again?" asked Marilyn, looking at Shella, who in turn was gazing at the shore. "Slim. Very slim. I've never met the same person twice, and if we do meet again, well, I can't conceive of a situation where that would happen," said Shella. "Well, goodbye, Shella. I know I'll miss you," said Marilyn, stepping onto the gangplank and then onto the pier. "Goodbye, Marilyn. Thanks for all the memories," Shella said back, her elbow propping her head up against the railing. The gangplank crumbled away, and the ship backed away from the stone pier. Marilyn walked towards the end of the pier, and turned around when she got halfway to the sandals. The top of the mast of the old wooden ship was sinking into the water far away from the dock, never to be seen by her again. Shelley & Her College Professor Dean Davis and M. Martine Matheson The professor awoke to the sound of running water in the shower. What an incredible evening with the auditor of his History of Sports class. She probably had another class to get to this morning, but he didn't care. His cock half hard and slowly growing, he made his way into the bathroom and opened the shower door. He entered and finding Shell facing away from him, cupped her sexy breasts and began nuzzling that space between her neck and shoulder that he had found last night to be her weakness. Shell had wished with everything she had that Dr. Davis would pick up on her invitation to the shower. He had been ardent for weeks but ever since he returned from a brief vacation, had been somewhat cold and distant, and had not flirted with his prize student once. She was beginning to think she had lost her touch, or worse, that the professor had lost interest. Apparently, he hadn't. "Mmm…" Shelley moaned at the professor's touch. "Dr. Davis? What in the world are you doing?" she said, teasingly. "I have a history of the National Football League class today and the subject is the Pittsburgh Steelers. I REALLY need to go." "You can miss that one, Shell," the professor said, guiding his hard cock into her pussy from behind while the couple was still standing. "It's a short class today." Shell's hands were flat on the white tile of the shower so she could brace herself for her esteemed professor, whose body sent shocks of desire through her and whose voice, whose sexy fantastic voice, she played over and over when she taped his lectures. Their first sexy, flirtatious encounter had taken place when he hired her to transcribe her tapes...but today, all she could think of was Dr. Davis' lips on her neck, his hands gripping her waist, and the sensation of his enormous cock easing itself into her uptilted hips. Even if they did run out of hot water this would never be a cold shower. Shelley decided against her morning class, thinking she could always get the notes from someone else. Heck, Dr. Davis was a football fan; he could probably fill her in. And that's just what he was doing now -- filling her in, over and over again. He turned her head to kiss her and their lips met. Shelley continued to gasp and moan as the professor's massive cock maneuvered inside her sexy pussy...."spend the weekend with me," he whispered as he made love to his prize student... Davis didn't make the offer lightly. He'd had to do some rearranging of his schedule to even get this girl here in the first place. He wasn't going to leave this to chance. Since their first embarrassed kiss, in his crowded, messy office that cold December evening, their relationship had been businesslike, but fraught with sexual tension. First hired to transcribe her classroom notes for uploading on the Net (Shelley never missed class, which was more than Davis could say for the jocks), she had proven herself quickly to be the competent, careful assistant his colleagues said she was. Fact is, Dr. Davis hired her for another reason, too. She was hot. He'd had lots of women, all ages, colors, and sizes, but this one. She was a puzzle. Shelley never dressed provocatively, but she was sexy. She wasn't foul mouthed, but she looked like she needed to be fucked. Rumor was among the jocks that she didn't "put out" and there was a huge bet riding on which one would be the first to bed her. Some unsuccessful suitors started another rumor,that she was a lesbian, but Davis didn't think so. Maybe an experimentor - shit, that's what college was for, to make all your mistakes while living at your parents' expense before you had to enter the real world. After they agreed on her hourly rate, she spent many a late fall afternoon with her legs curled under her on a couch in his office, hair out of her way in a ponytail, her glasses slipping down her nose and she made careful pencil marks in the margins of his novel The Coach. Their rapport had developed to the point where Davis entrusted Shelley with the novel, trusted that she would not reveal its subject matter. As she sipped her tea, Davis thought back to her response to a shower scene he'd written for his hero and one of his many conquests. "Oh my God, Dr. Davis. What a hot chapter! Favorite fantasy of mine" Shelley had laughed at the time. They had both laughed. But Davis tucked the information away for what he hoped was a future encounter. His eyes were on her butt as she uncurled herself from the couch and turned to lean down to refill her teacup. Davis took the opportunity to refill his eyes with her cute little ass. And now, here they were, months later, in his shower, him fucking her from behind…she loving it...the two playing out a favorite fantasy of both of them..."I wanna fuck those tits," Dr. Davis said, and then I wanna play out every chapter of my book and more." Shelley was happy to oblige. Off went the water in the shower, but the steamy scene continued. Shelley kneeling in front of the professor, both of them dripping wet and she offered her sexy breasts to him. His cock, already hard and slick from fucking her pussy, now began to slip and slide between those breasts. Shell reached up and grabbed the shampoo bottle from the shelf and emptied a bit into her hands. She rubbed them together to create a lather and lathered the professor's cock to provide more lubrication."I wanna cum on these tits," the professor said, half smiling, half moaning, " I wanna shoot this hot cum all over you." How many times had Shelley awakened with the dream scene still in her mind, of being just like this on her knees in front of this gorgeous man, looking up into his eyes for permission to continue? Now he'd asked her, not a question really, but direction on what she wanted. Her hands clutched her breasts to capture Davis's cock, and she shook her wet hair out of her eyes as she rose on her thighs to encourage and continue this intoxicating play. "He can cum anywhere he wants to," Shelley thought wildly, "as long as he lets me get him hard again. I don't think either of us is making it to class...." Out loud, Shelley could barely speak as she nodded her head, then looked down at the purple head of Davis's huge cock between her tits. Heaven. The ringing of Davis's home phone followed shortly thereafter by his cell phone could mean only one thing -- his secretary was looking for him because he was late to class. This happened rarely. The occasions were either car trouble, a family emergency or, only one time before, a woman. But that had been several years ago. Now both phones were ringing again and Davis didn't care. He was alternately fucking Shelley Martin's tits and stepping back and stroking himself off, getting ready to shoot his load on this beautiful co-ed. The ringing of the phones ceased and Davis thought that they had given up on him. His 9:15 would be cancelled and he didn't fucking care. Instead, he went back to concentrating on the gorgeous woman on her knees in front of him, water still dripping from her wet hair, her eyes half closed as she reveled in the sensation of her breasts being fucked. And then it happened. It came quickly, without warning. And suddenly her wet tits were coated with creamy liquid. But the professor wasn't done. He corralled his cock and pointed it directly at Shelley's face, squirting a stream of cum onto her lips.... Shelley licked her lips to savor each drop. She had to chase Davis's cock slightly to capture it with her lips, giggling as she did out of sheer pleasure, sucking his cock into her mouth, perhaps too eagerly, she thought, judging from the wince on his face...but he was so damn hot, and she loved how much cum he served her. She eased up a little, her thumbs pressing against the underside of Davis's cock now, massaging him and milking as much of his cum as she could get. She swallowed as much as he could pump into her wet, willing mouth. "Miss Martin, I think you may have to stay after class to see me today," smiled Dr. Davis, gazing at his sexy cocksucker. "And I think it will have to be a private conference." -30- Shelley & the Photographer All she had left was $1600, and she still needed pictures. No actress was going anywhere in this town without pictures to give to agents. Shelley had woefully underestimated how much reserve she needed when she dumped Penn law school to move to Los Angeles to try her hand at acting. Especially since the only person in her family to still be speaking to her was her aunt. ""Shelley, anyone can see you're miserable here," Leigh had said that Sunday when she and Shelley has discussed her plan. "When I moved this far inland I never understood how much I'd miss the ocean, either. But I don't think I got quite so upset about it as you have, honey." Leigh had adopted Philadelphia as her hometown long ago, and seemed happy, although she missed her late husband, an author who had been the first to urge Shelley to keep at her writing. Law school was interesting, all consuming, competitive, exciting - and not at all what Shelley wanted to do with her life. She wanted, more than anything else, to make her living as a writer. She had developed an odd friendship with a man she met on the Internet, who started out as a sexy chat friend, and developed, miracle of miracles, into another aspiring writer. They shared and critiqued each other's work. And sexy chats. Shelley was saving herself for marriage, which Mark seemed to understand, but their online roleplaying sizzled. At least it did for Shelley. She didn't know about Mark. But Shelley had kept her developing plan from even Mark. As far as he knew, she was sitting on her sofa with her head in a law book in Philadelphia, not hauling boxes up two flights of steps to a dinky North Hollywood apartment. She'd kept the same email address, but she hadn't breathed a word of her runaway plan. He was so much older than she, and much wiser, and he would probably have advised her to stay put. To make ends meet in Philadelphia, Shelley waitressed, worked as a telemarketing fundraiser for a big university, and did some minor modeling and acting. She'd managed to put some money away and if she was very frugal and tossed in her graduation money, she thought she could make the move for about $5,000. So she saved. Now, she finally sat, sweaty and exhausted and with her muscles cramping from the effort, on a box in a sunny walk up in a small stucco apartment building on a quiet side street of North Hollywood. The rent was less than she had imagined, more than she had hoped, and she suspected it was so because the afternoon sun was brutal. The apartment received the full blast. Too bad she couldn't see the ocean, but she sure could feel the heat of the setting sun. Her aunt had promised to intercede with her formidable parents. "Look, honey, your father did some stupid stuff when we were growing up. He wasn't always the knight in shining armor he is now. And Martine wasn't an angel, either. Your parents will calm down sooner than you think. Leave them to me." So Shelley had finished her first term at Penn, making very sure her grades were good, experiencing her first - and last - horrible snowy Philadelphia winter, and lit out for LA. She naively assumed she would support herself by acting and waitressing while she tried to make it as a writer. She'd exercised the old Saab, found that it liked to cruise at 90, babied it, engaged the clutch in to coast down long straight-aways to save gas, learned to keep the tach in the green zone for the best gas mileage, and arrived in LA. "Here I am. Sunny southern California. I don't know a soul. I don't know my way around. I don't have a job. And it feels great!" Shelley dived happily backward onto her bed, her arms spread eagled, and listened to all the new sounds around her. She had never heard the sound of traffic until she moved to Philadelphia. Now the LA traffic sounded different. She would have to think about that one. All her senses were on high alert, attuned, as writers do, to every nuance, every difference, in her experiences. *************** Shelley balanced her checkbook again. Correction: she tried to balance it. As many times as her father had patiently tried to show her what to do, she never came up with the same number twice. She usually just gave up and believed whatever number the online banking screen told her. "They're the professionals, not me. I'll believe them" she shrugged on more than one occasion. Sixteen hundred bucks remained of the $5,000 she'd calculated she'd need for her first six months. Six weeks had passed. Now she stood on the searing pavement, checking the address of the photographer against the strip of paper in her hand. Another aspiring actress-waitress had scribbled the name of a photographer who had a rep for helping out young actresses with discounts. "Anitra Collins - Art Photography, Acting and Modeling Comps, Fashion and Commercial Photography" read the small oval sign on the door. Shelley shaded her eyes to peek through the glass. Inside she saw a small waiting area and a door, which she assumed led to the studio. She pulled open the glass door and stepped inside. No one was in the waiting area, but Shelley could hear two voices - both female - coming from what she assumed was the studio. She sat to wait, her simple blue summer dress demure and sexy at the same time. She'd lugged a bag with changes of clothes for her photo shoot. No telling what she'd be asked to wear. After about 15 minutes, two women emerged from the studio. The taller one, a stunning black woman with two cameras around her neck, the other a shorter blonde "cheerleader type." Shelley had already been told she had too serious a look for cheerleader roles. It was just as well. "Thanks so much, Anitra, I think the pictures will be great," said the "cheerleader." The taller woman bent to kiss the smaller woman and caressed her cheek. "Wow, they must be friends," Shelley thought. "I'll call you in about a week, Mandie. Your proofs should be done by then," Anitra Collins said. The two younger girls smiled at each other as the "cheerleader" exited the building. Anitra Collins extended her hand to Shelley. "You must be Shelley Martin, my 5 p.m. client," Collins said, as her eyes swept the younger girl's figure appraisingly. "Yes, I think maybe Suzie Thomas may have told you about me? I need an acting comp done," Shelley explained. "Oh, yes, I spoke with Suzie about you...I am happy to do what I can, always, for young actresses just starting out. I was one once, too, you know." "You were an actress?" Shelley asked. "It was a long time ago, dear, and it never really went very far. That's why I like photography. On my side of the lens, age doesn't matter," laughed the black woman, whose skin was the color of milk chocolate. She must be mixed race, Shelley mused, because her hair was straight and lustrous. She estimated the woman's age at - or near - 30. Glorious, sexy and very professional head shots lined the waiting area of the photography studio, but Shelley didn't recognize anyone in particular, although it was obvious the shots were professional, not family-type photos. She followed Anitra to the studio, where she was somewhat surprised to see a different variety of photos lining the walls. These were much more sexually explicit photos: girls topless and nude, men reclining with erections, or standing to flex their muscles. Shelley looked startled, and she knew it. Anitra Collins laughed at Shelley's face. "Well, you don't expect me to display these out in the lobby, do you?" she laughed. "Um, well, no, I guess not," Shelley said, slightly uncomfortable. But hey, this was Hollywood. She was sure she would see worse, eventually. They began with a series of tests shots with Shelley wearing the dress she had on and the simple makeup she always wore. She perched on a stool, moved this way and that, clipped her hair up, let her hair fall, left profile, right profile, tight head shot, full body shot. Then Anitra told Shelley to put her hands on the stool behind her, take a deep breath and throw her head back. Shelley did as she was told, but it seemed to her that her breasts were more prominently displayed in the shots than her face. A few clothing changes - a skintight lycra strapless dress, a short skirt and midriff-baring shirt, and a couple of bikinis, one demure, one very hot - and Shelley discovered she was having a good time. She began to relax with Anitra, too, as the photographer told her how to pose and hold her head. They began to banter, a sexy teasing banter, that Anitra said was designed to let Shelley relax and allow her personality to show in the photos. When she donned the tight lycra dress, she felt she could barely breathe, but Anitra told her she looked "hot, honey, very hot" and shot a lot of film of her. Behind the lens, she asked Shelley to pull the front of the dress down a bit, so Shelley's cleavage would show more. After a series of shots of this, Anitra casually walked over the Shelley and rubbed the backs of her fingers over Shelley's nipples. "Anitra, what are you doing?" an astonished Shelley said, covering herself with her arms in embarrassment. "Sex sells, honey, and if casting agents see your tits all excited, they'll get excited, and you'll get more work" was the sensible explanation. "Shelley, you look real good, girl, through this lens," Anitra teased her as the motor drive clicked off shots. "You got a boyfriend, hon?" Shelley said no, she didn't, too new in town, there was this guy she emailed with, but...no. Anitra put down her camera. "A girl who looks like you, and you don't have a boyfriend? Then you must have a girlfriend then." Shelley blushed of the roots of her hair and shook her head no. Anitra smiled and wagged her finger at the younger model. "Girlfriend, the lezbeans in this town are gonna eat you up. You won't be single for long, honey." Anitra told her it was time for the lingerie shots, and Shelley looked surprised. "Suzie didn't tell me about those. I didn't bring anything to wear," she said. "Not to worry, I have tons of stuff for you to choose from. I think...you know, I think I want you in a push up bra and panties first," Anitra said, gesturing to a screened off changing area. Shelley stepped behind the screen and looked at an array of beautiful lingerie, still with their price tags on. She slipped into a black lace underwire bra that clasped in the front and matching panties. She added sheer black thigh high stockings and black heels. She turned her head upside down to brush her hair into a fuller shape, then flipped it back. When she emerged, bending over to wiggle her shoulders to "settle" her boobs into the cups, Anitra wolf-whistled. "Honey, you are gonna be a BIG star with that set of ta-tas" to which Shelley laughed. More than two hours of this passed, and Shelley began to worry about the cost. She was posing in yet another bra and panty set, this time kneeling on a leopard print bench, when Anitra brought up the subject of payment. "Shelley, did Suzie mention anything about the discount I offer young struggling actresses?" the older woman asked casually. She had switched to a digital camera after setting up her old Rolleiflex on a tripod. She operated the Rollei with a bulb trigger. "Open your mouth slightly, honey. Lick your lips. Great lip gloss, by the way...is it MAC? Thought so...that's good. I like that. You look like you're having an orgasm." "No, actually, Anitra, all she mentioned was that you had one. I'm kinda interested. We've spent a lot of time here today." Anitra continued shooting Shelley, but her voice seemed to drop a notch or two, becoming a little huskier, a little earthier. "Well, Shelley, honey, I know how hard it is to make ends meet as a struggling actress so I try to do what I can. Would you like to hear about the discounts?" Shelley nodded. Anitra moved closer to the girl, who had sat back on her heels and done a shot lifting her boobs to the camera. Antra had told her to pretend she was serving them to her boyfriend. "Well, the first discount is this. How would you like to have the pictures we take today, a thousand dollars' worth, for half price?" The older woman's voice was definitely husky now, and her camera seemed to focus in on Shelley's breasts. "Wow, you mean it? Half price? Tell me what I have to do!" "Well, Shelley, all you have to do is let me take some topless shots of you. Nothing nasty, very tasteful. All you'd need to do is open that bra of yours and let me snap some shots of those pretty, pretty tits you have. They are great, Shelley. Natural?" Shelley hesitated a split second before answering. "Oh, yeah, they're real. They're too floppy not to be. You should see me riding horses back home. Flop City. And...ok, I guess. For half price." Anitra was clicking off pictures the whole time Shelley was opening her bra, and afterward, Anitra told her to stop before she removed it. She liked shooting a girl with breasts that were enclosed in open cups. "Now, Shelley" she directed through the viewfinder. "I don't want you to use your hands to take your bra off. Just sit up straight and take a deep breath. That should be enough to slip for the cups to slip off your big tits." Shelley did as she was told, as usual, and then a series of topless poses. She wasn't as nervous as she expected to be. She did laugh, however, when Anitra told her to "shake those tits, honey" and she did, an exaggerated shimmy that Anitra thought would make great pictures. "Anitra, I'm curious about the other discounts. You said there were others." While she spoke, Shelley was lifting one of her tits to her mouth to lick the nipple, as she had been directed. "Not others, honey. Just one." And Anitra moved very close to Shelley. "Honey, the other discount is a big one. You get your pictures absolutely free if..." "If what, Anitra?" Shelley asked. "If you let Anitra play with those pretty titties, honey. Just let Anitra squeeze and suck and play with them, and your pictures are free, free, free." Shelley was stunned. To buy time, she asked "How can you afford to do that?" Anitra put down her camera and stepped in front of Shelley. "I don't make the offer very often, Shelley. Just when a girl with great real tits comes in here. In Hollywood, that ain't often." Anitra didn't wait for Shelley's answer. The black woman placed her hands on Shelley's tits and weighed them, feeling how heavy and firm they were, and Shelley gasped. But she didn't make Anitra stop, so the black woman began to slowly massage Shelley's tits, lifting them and squeezing them, pushing them at Shelley, then pulling them away from her. Shelley's started breathing harder, for tit play had always been her greatest turn on, and Anitra knew what she was doing. "Put your hands up in your hair, baby...that's it...good girl...see how nice and big that makes your tits, hmm?" Anitra said as she snuggled her hands under Shelley's tits and held her torso. She shook Shelley's body then, because if there was one thing she liked to see, it was big tits wiggling like they were being fucked. This made Shelley gasp again, and the girl seemed to be having trouble controlling herself. Then Anitra moved to her favorite game, a bit earlier than she had planned, but Shelley was faster than some girls and didn't seem to need much encouragement. Anitra loved extended nipple play, and in her experience, her girls did, too, often reaching orgasm by this simple method. Anitra now placed her hands on the sides of Shelley's breasts, and covered the girl's nipples with her thumbs. As her thumbs pushed into Shelley's tits, the girl moaned and shuddered. Anitra, who was revealing her domme tendencies, thought the younger girl's helpless excitement was delicious to watch. Her thumbs now pressed into Shelley's tits and began to move the big tits in small circles, maneuvered by the thumb pressure. Shelley's moans increased. "Shelley, I want you to hold your hands behind your back baby, and whatever you do, keep your hands clasped, all right?" instructed Anitra, who now began a nipple teasing that usually resulted in her little companion's orgasms. Shelley quickly did as she was told, arching her back and rising on her knees a little, as Anitra flattened and stiffened her palms. She began a rapid rubbing of Shelley's nipples that would have been exciting if it lasted just a few seconds. With Anitra, the tit play went on for a minute....for two minutes....Shelley began to moan louder and beg for Anitra to stop, please stop....three minutes. Four, five, six minutes. The nipple play was excruciatingly stimulating and Shelley had never endured it for so long. She was enjoying this pleasure soon to be mixed with a little delicious pain. Her tits were bouncing wildly with this play and the sight pleased her new domme. "No, no, no, no, please stop...pleaaasseeee.....Anitra, please stop, please leave my tits alone...oooooo..." Shelley was begging now, for this extended nipple play was beyond endurance. She was about to cum with no penetration at all, and what's more, Anitra knew it. "If you were with your boyfriend you'd be begging him to fuck you now, wouldn't you, my sweet little whore? Hmm? Begging your big stud boyfriend to impale you on his big cock and fuck you senseless. Do you want to be fucked, Shelley? Tell me. Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me you want to be fucked, baby." Without waiting for an answer, Anitra pushed Shelley back on the bench and held her down by mercilessly squeezing her tits, as the older woman bent down to draw her tongue along Shelley's wet, swollen slit. Shelley's response through her clenched teeth signaled Anitra that the girl was close to her orgasm. Anitra's rigid tongue wiggled in and out of Shelley's pussy like a little cock, and worried Shelley's swollen clit over and over. Anitra had learned that it was long repetition of the same touch that drove women wild, not a variety of touches, and a tongue pressure between gentle and firm. She flattened her tongue to make long stroking licks of Shelley's clit, like a dog licks a bone, and the younger girl moaned and moaned. She lessened the tongue pressure to rub Shelley's clit slightly, short back and forth strokes that had her subbie bucking her hips to reach her climax. Anitra's finger was pressuring the inside of Shelley's cervix and used her thumb to circle Shelley's clit. Anitra's mouth, meanwhile, had taken Shelley's nipple and roughly, sharply sucked it into her mouth, as much of the girl's big tit as she could inhale, and she sucked the nipple as hard as she possible could. And Shelley came, in a great squealing shudder, as she imagined her online lover doing what Anitra was doing to her.