****** Rug Rat Blues by Cathy ******
===============================================================================

Rug Rat Blues


(From an idea by Stacey. This is the second Cathy and Stacey story, following
"Libby Let's Go" I welcome any constructive feedback, and can be contacted at
cathycute2@yahoo.com )

Stacey and I are driving down to San Francisco to visit Dana on our way back to
L.A., and we have this weird argument. Stacey wants us to have a rug-rat, and
she wants me to be its true biological mother.

"Who me?" I go. "What the fuck for anyway?"

"Our love child," she goes. "Because we love each other."

"Yeah I know that, but shit, Stacey - we're fucking lesbian hell-bitches. What
ya think Family Services is going to about that?"

"We'd love it, that's all that matters."

That's no answer, but she has a point. She'd love a kid, and she knows I would
too. And we do have a good house now, and money, and we could be careful we
didn't fuck people or shit on each other while the rat was crawling around. We
could handle that. But still!

"Okay," I say, "supposing we did. So what about the father? You do understand
basic biology, Stace?"

She says, "That's a real important thing, it has to be exactly the right donor.
But it doesn't have to be anyone you know."

"Hey! I'm not going to fuck just anyone because you think we need a rug-rat!
Fuck you! You carry the thing in your womb, bitch." She's either out of her
mind, or has some diabolical scheme cooking. The weird sisters, with a rug-rat?
This is too crazed, we're getting road-happy.

Not that we look so crazed right at the moment. I'm conservatively dressed for
the drive down, in my lilac lycra biking shorts and a tank with bra. No sense
in getting the Highway Patrol too excited every time they stop me for speeding.
Stace's in her pleated gray skirt and lacy ankle socks, very legit though she
does look a bit like she's trawling for pedophiles. Maybe that's in the back of
her mind, I don't know. I don't often care to visit the back of Stacey's mind.

She goes on, "Not just anyone anyone, obviously. We have to pick someone. You
can do that at sperm banks? They don't give a shit about who you are so long as
you got the money."

"Yeah, but I know you - we'd for ever be arguing about who the daddy was how
smart is he and all that shit? Oh god, we'd never agree in a hundred years."

"So long as he went to a good school. And other stuff. I'd know."

"There you go! Fuck the school he went to, what's the point?"

"The point is, it would be ours. It could still be yours and mine,
biologically."

"You didn't do that family planning lesson at school, did you Stace? I know you
didn't."

She looks at me strangely serious. "It would be ours, lover. I'm going to make
sure it's ours. Like, yours and mine, two mothers."

There's no answer to that. We need food, drink, and sex with Dana.

Anyway we're off the I-80 now at the exit Dana gave us and we're getting
confused about directions. It's suddenly all very suburban and expensive here,
with no sidewalks. People here don't walk for real, they drive the Bronco to a
health club then pay to walk on a two-thousand dollar treadmill. Go figure.
(Don't mind me, I'm an inner-city child. Stacey thinks I've got this
psychopathic grudge against rich people.) "Like that guy," Stacey says, when
she's supposed to be reading the map. "Wouldn't that guy make a good father for
our kid?"

"What the fuck?" I'm trying to do a u-turn.

"With the bag of groceries, walking."

"Walking? Here? He's a homeless person is he?"

Then I see him, as I straighten out the car. A golden-haired guy in shorts,
tall and with a pony-tail, walking away from us.

"Cute," I say. "Rather him than Henry Kissinger. Now point me at Willis
Boulevard, will ya?"

"Pull up alongside him. I'll ask."

Okay. That makes sense. I do so, Stacey leans out the window and shouts across
the street, "Hey, can you tell us where Willis Boulevard starts?"

He walks over. Athletic type, no more than twenty-five. He's got an educated
voice. "It's only about two minutes from here, but you have to make five turns.
Co- incidentally, I live on Willis."

He lets that hang, bending down and looking at us through the window and
smiling. He's got a nice smile. The smile wins.

"Get in the back," Stacey says. And don't sit on any of that shit, move it over
first."

"Your Bronco break down?" I ask him, but he doesn't bite.

His name is Josh, he tells us. We creep along, turning this way and that, while
Josh directs me. He would have biked to the grocery store, he says, but he's
got a flat tire, and it's a nice day.

Stacey keeps leaning over and looking at him in the rear-view. "Well what do
you think?" she asks me, during a moment of silence. "Don't say you wouldn't."

"Outwardly, looks good," I agree. But this is all theory right? Hypothetical."

"Not necessarily."

Josh sits there listening. I wonder if he can imagine we are discussing him
like the piece of meat he is. He doesn't look like he does.

"We'd have to get him checked out by a whole battery of doctors. I don't want
his fucking STDs and genetic disorders. For all his looks his parents could be
cousins from Kentucky."

"Naturally. I would be there during conception too, don't worry sweetie. It's
my kid too, remember."

"What's your IQ, Josh?" I ask, into the rear-view mirror.

"Who me? I don't know. But hang left here, this is Willis. What number are you
looking for, by the way?"

"Sixteen seventy-four."

"Oh no, you're kidding! That's my house."

"Dana Bates," I correct him.

"No, it's Josh Shumaker. Dana Bates lives with me. She didn't tell me she was
expecting friends."

Stacey leans over and gives me a great big kiss that makes me swerve and tip
Josh's organic apples so they scatter all over the back seat. She screams,
"It's fate, darling! It's fate!"

***

Dana comes out the pool in back of the house like a sweet mermaid, tanned and
slim and her light hair gone almost blonde since I last saw her. You wouldn't
think she's a shit- eating bi-masochist toilet-slut-sub to look at her, but
people seldom look like what they are. Stacey and I get all soaked just hugging
and kissing her, from pool water you understand.

"You're going to stay a while?" she asks. "We got lots of room. You didn't
phone to say when exactly you were coming."

"You never told us you were shacked up with Stephen Segal's brother," I tell
her.

"Josh won't mind. I met Josh at film school. He teaches. Where are you guys
headed for?"

Stacey says, "L.A. We're going into business, Cathy and me. Customer service."

"Customer service? What kind of business is that?"

"Servicing customers. It's a wide-open market, in a niche kind of way."

And Stacey winks, and Dana knows what we're talking about, and laughs.

We get our bags in the house, and shower, and then sprawl ourselves out on the
patio with cold drinks while Dana fills us in on her life, and Josh tells us
about the film biz. All the time Stacey is watching Josh with this measuring,
calculating eye.

A bit later, I catch Dana alone in the kitchen while she's cutting open kaiser
buns for the burgers. "So how cool is your Josh?" I ask her. I pat her ass, and
kiss the back of her neck. She still tastes of chlorine, which turns me on for
some reason.

"Perfectly so," she says, and she stops her cutting and we kiss for a while.
"If you guys don't mind a guy around."

"It all looks so perfect," I say, looking about me. "What you got. This guy,
the house and all."

"It's okay." She says it like it's not really all that okay. "I mean, he'll go
away and leave us alone, if that's what you want. He'll do what I want him to."

"I think Stacey wants him here."

"Stacey does? I wouldn't have figured."

"You wouldn't begin to know how much Stacey wants him around. I only know part
of it myself. But it's a long story, sweetheart."

My hands are down the back of Dana's shorts. The swimming or whatever she does
has tightened her ass, not that it ever needed it. I'm trying to figure out how
we're going to make out. Threesomes can be hard enough to set going, if
everyone doesn't know their place. And when there's a guy too who doesn't quite
fit, that's even harder. Things were so much easier in the old days, when Dana
and Stacey and I would just fuck each other and not think about manners. Being
mature now and over twenty really sucks.

Stacey's doing well though, we find out when we wander back with the buns.
She's really moving things along. While Dana and I were necking in the kitchen,
she's gotten Josh beyond how film editors are superior to directors, to how he
likes to be tied up.

"No shit, so you're sub too?" She asks him. She's crouched on the edge of her
patio chair, swishing her drink in her glass, paying great attention to him.

He laughs. "Dana and I both lean that way - isn't that a bad match?"

"Not necessarily."

"No?"

Stacey frowns. "Not when you're a couple of bitch dominatrixes who've eaten
nothing but road dust for two days, Josh."

***

We're not into the mainstream BDSM, Stace and I. We don't read the books, study
the philosophy, we don't do the seven-year apprenticeship in King Arthur's
court talking like bad Shakespeare actors. Not so far. We're Guerilla Dommes,
Navy Seal Dommes, we go in where we're needed, do the mission, and get out.
It's a concept we're working on.

Dana we know likes a little pain and love, Josh turns out to like humiliation
and servitude. It seems that when they don't work this out with other people,
or give one another a generic fuck after some weed, they sit and home and chew
their fingernails. Theirs is this mental relationship mainly. They like one
another's intellects. So Stace and I, we're a real in-home treat for them
tonight.

It's only a pity Stacey and I are still arguing.

I'm laying across Dana's bed, my head up against the wall under the window,
getting a shave. I'm laying with my bare ass on a towel, and all I'm wearing is
a T-shirt. Now and then I tug on Dana's leash, which is a thin, pale-blue
leather one like you normally see on the end of someone's poodle. When I tug,
she looks up and gives me a blushing smile. But I don't want to distract her
right now because she's on her knees between my legs working on my bikini line,
and we don't want any slips there, do we, dear Dana-slut? She did my legs
first, and now she's oh so carefully pulling the razor down over my pubes,
cutting a perfect channel through the cream in a straight line down to my
crotch. It feels so fucking sexy, her doing it. I thought I'd change my style
from a vee to this narrow strip of turf. One of those summer whims I get. My
dark bush is now two inches wide, a rectangle. Her other hand rests on my upper
thigh, steadying me. Her fingertips are cool and making me tense with their
little cold points. So much so, I'm beginning to get wet, and I know she can
smell it though she knows her place well enough not to say or do anything about
that.

This is fucking luxury, Dana dear.

What's more, Dana put on her favorite outfit for me. It's an Italian, blue silk
bra and panties, plain but expensive. More than Frederick's, it's the Armani of
lingerie, this stuff. With the matching blue leather collar, she looks kinky,
but classy-kinky. You won't ever see Dana in Xena outfits or cheap vinyl boots,
and she's always been that way.

Stacey comes into view in the open doorway. She leans on the frame. "He hasn't
read any Lawrence Durrell," she scowls.

She's wearing only her little gray dress now. Her small titties are still
stained with smeared, dried BBQ sauce. That was from dinner-time. I don't know
what got into me, perhaps it was that toke of my B.C.-grown hydroponic weed we
shared while we finished up the wine. (Which made Dana freak you'd think I had
pounds of it in her house, not just a handful of Kodak film containers.)
Anyway, mellow me, I opened Stacey's blouse and pulled her tits out of her bra
and smeared them with a spoon of Dana's home-made relish which I then licked
off. Stacey's tits tasted deliciously of mangoes. It was an icebreaker, to say
the least, and it got an erection out of Josh that was noticeable the moment we
cuffed his wrists to the leg of the chesterfield in the living room. He's still
there, I guess.

"Nor have I read what's-his-name," I say. "So what?"

"He's not as well-read as I thought."

"He's a film-maker guy, Stace. He teaches, has degrees all over the place."

"We want the best, Cath darling, a well-rounded, enquiring mind at the least."

"Well excellent! But perhaps even Einstein wasn't exactly enquiring about D. H.

Lawrence when he was busy inventing atomic bombs. Did you figure that?"

You can almost see Stacey grinding her teeth. The white skin under her tight
little dirty tits sort of glows in the dim light by the doorway. I get wetter.

Dana, her eyes still down on my crotch, asks very softly, "What's this about
Josh?"

I ignore this impertinence from a slave, and tell her, "We're thinking about
taking his seed, Dana, his sperm."

Ow! There's a sharp nip where the razor catches me. Automatically, I correct
Dana with a hard whap on the side of her face that sends her head flying into
my knee. "Hey watch the fuck out, slut!" I yell.

Stacey's there in a second, peering down at me. "She cut you? I can't see
anything."

Dana sobs, "I'm sorry! It's just when you said that I jumped."

I can't see anything either. The corner of the razor must have just dug in at
the side of my pussy. "I'm okay, it just felt like cut me." I pull hard on the
leash, bringing Dana up on her knees, her chin over my belly. "You don't do the
pain-giving around here, whore. That's up to us."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," she quickly says, and Stacey puts one hand on Dana's neck
and begins caressing it, though in a less than loving way I find a bit scary.
Dana doesn't know about Stacey and sex and blood, especially my blood about our
sacred and precious blood- letting with razor blades on our breasts, our
bellies but now's not the time "Dana, dear lover of your mistresses," Stacey
hisses in her ear, "Whose are you?"

I tug on my leash. "Answer true."

"I am yours, Mistress Stacey and Mistress Cathy."

"And whose is Josh?" Her one hand slips down Dana's chest, under her bra, and
twists, and Dana winces.

"Yours and Mistress Cathy's."

"And his sperm, therefore?"

Dana is about to say something, then she stops. Stacey's other hand slithers
down her chest, into her other bra cup. Pinch. Dana draws in another breath,
sharply.

"It's yours. It's just the way you said it got me, like you're going to
actually take- his cum."

There's a crack, and Dana's head flips to the side. It's Stacey's hand, so fast
slapping her cheek I hardly saw it move out of Dana's bra.

"Mistress," Dana quickly adds, her face taut and reddening.

Stacey says, "You heard it right the first time. We don't care about his cum,
his seminal fluid, Dana we want his sperm."

"Don't you think respectfully speaking mistress we're not crossing boundaries
here?"

"Ooh did you hear that Cath? The slut's a lawyer-slut now. We already did the
boundaries bit, Dana, remember?" And Stacey flips the bra down over Dana's
nipples, and takes a careful grip of each one between thumbs and fingers. Dana
takes a deep breath and waits for the pain with her eyes screwed tight.

I say, "Let her finish doing this first and get the soap off at least."

And so Stacey lays off, and I slack off the leash and Dana spends a minute
straightening up my hair-do with the razor, then sponges off the soap. Now,
looking down, I think it looks a little severe, for me, that little sideways
moustache. But heck, it's fun. I reward Dana by letting her kiss my fresh white
pube-skin. I know she can smell my cunt-lube strongly, but I don't let her
taste. She hasn't been that good. Too much sass.

We did discuss limits of course. We aren't to draw blood, or trash the house.
We have to stop hurting them if either of them cries MAMA or falls into a coma.
Not one word about stealing sperm though.

I get off the bed and hand the leash over to Stacey, who's getting into some
serious discussion with Dana over being sassy. I stand before the dresser
mirror and study my new pube look. I think it makes me look younger, and I rub
my fingers over the freshly-bare, smooth skin. Kiss me there, please, someone.
I should get Dana to do it, or Stacey, but Stacey's busy correcting Dana's
attitude, so I give myself a little bit of a treat with my finger- tips and rub
cunt-juice into and around my needy clit.

Stacey's kneeling behind Dana, her smudged titties jammed in her back. She's
pulling back on Dana's collar with one hand, and the other is jammed down the
back of Dana's panties. She seems to be holding her under the crotch, roughly.
Anyway, Dana's biting her lip.

Stacey is saying between her teeth, "You never said anything about bodily
fluids, which we're all going to spill sooner or later, and anyway who gives a
damn?"

Dana says, "No-one, ordinarily. But it's the way you said it. Sperm, not cum
you said sperm. You're up to something Stace."

"Mistress fucking Stace, you goddam bitch!" I can see Stacey's fingers clench
under the panties.

Dana lets out a yowl, and jerks upright. "Fuck it Mistress Stacey!" "And I
don't see why I should tell you anything, but maybe I will just to see how you
take this and dammit Dana-slut if you're not wet under here."

"Yes Mistress."

"You love this, don't you?"

"Yes Mistress." Dana, with her neck pulled back by the leash so her ear is
right beside Stacey's mouth, her back arched and her bared tits shivering
upward.

"Well you can stay kneeling here, and rinse off my hand."

"How, Mistress?"

"Turn your dirty little faucet on, that's how. My hand is right there."

Dana doesn't say anything, she kneels there, perfectly still except for her
chest breathing in and out. There's this strained look on her face, which she
turns on me now. But it's not pain or discomfort. Oh no I know Dana well
enough, thank you. The best reward you can give Dana is the one Stacey's just
demanded. She loves to pee for you. Just mention pee, and Dana's not only peed
her panties, she's taken them off and popped them in her mouth and is sucking
the juice dry ready for next time.

I leave them in their moment of tender love-pain-reward. Sub-domme love is so
complex, even if it's only for an evening. I leave them because I want to see
Josh the sperm machine. I go out the bedroom and walk down the long, cool
passage to the big room where we left him. It's the living room. Over in front
of the windows to the patio is the dining table, still covered with the remains
of our meal. There was no thought given to cleaning it up after my dessert
performance off Stacey's tits, cleaning dishes wasn't on any of our minds.

Josh is behaving well, laying naked and silently on his side on the rug in
front of the chesterfield. He can't do much else, not with his wrists in
leather cuffs and looped round one of the legs. I guess he could overturn it if
he really wanted, but that's not what he wants, is it? He looks up at me when I
stand over him, but says nothing. He's well-muscled but with those kind of
wide, smooth shoulder muscles you get from swimming, not from weights. His cock
droops soft now, in its bed of golden hair. You'd think he wouldn't look so
masculine, being a slave, but somehow he does. He reminds me of a big beautiful
dog, perhaps one of those pure-gold shepherds subservient but strong and
intelligent in a way that doesn't seem like a contradiction at all.

At least, I guess he's intelligent.

"Stacey says you haven't read her favorite author. Is that true?" I ask him.

"It's true, Madame," he says with a little smile.

"She's very disappointed. Having a smart slave is more important to her than
you can imagine. Are you staring at my cunt, slave?"

"I'm sorry." He looks down.

"Slut Dana just gave it a trim. Do you think it makes me look younger?"

He looks up again. "I didn't see it before it was trimmed, Madame."

Good answer. I do hate whimpery slaves who say yes to everything.

"And why are you calling me Madame now? Mistress or Ma'am is usual."

He takes exactly one beat. "Because you are so mature, for such a young
Mistress."

Not such a good answer, but amusing. And he catches the smile I can't hide, and
sends it back to me, dammit. I do the only thing a mistress can do, on getting
a smart-ass answer from a male sub, and go to stamp on his cock.

Only, I don't not properly, like I should. He winces and starts to curl up as I
draw my foot up and prepare to slam it down. But I stop at that point, and
lower it slow to rest the sole of my foot on his cock where it lays over his
thigh. I curl my toes round the soft, warm thing, and stroke it. Josh stretches
out, big pup, and closes his eyes as I feel his cock round out and harden under
my toes. Talk about a dog!

"Another question," I say. "and no bullshit answer. If you're my slave, every
part of you is mine, isn't it?"

"Of course, Madame."

"Mistress."

"Mistress."

"If I take your piss, it's mine. If I take your shit, or cut off your hair,
it's mine."

"Yes Mistress."

"If I take your sperm, it's mine."

He blinks. I didn't say cum, I said sperm. "Yes, Mistress."

"It's mine."

"I told you, it's yours. Mistress."

"Good. Because maybe I plan to take it."

He sure smiles at that, but in a smart-ass way I don't like. "That might be
lovely, Ma'am."

"Why do you say it like that?"

All the time, I'm stroking his cock with my toes. It's a beautiful thing when
it's hard, like it's carved out of hard, pale wood and polished. A sculptor of
phallic erotica couldn't make a finer, more beautiful cock than Josh's if he
tried.

His eyes flicker between my face and my crotch. "Because of course I shall
enjoy your being in being intimate with you Ma'am."

I stop stroking. "Who said anything about intimacy?"

"You did. Taking my sperm."

"Hah! I don't have to dirty my cunt with your prick, slave, to get your sperm."
(Oh but god I want to, don't I? I want to untie this un-read adonis right this
instant and have his hard, sweet body fuck me so hard and tight) "Yes you do,
Ma'am, have to be intimate."

What! I stop my stroking, and press my instep down on him hard enough to make
him gasp. "Did you contra-fucking-dict me, you prick?"

"No Mistress! I mean, and I'm not lying, that I can't cum when I'm like this.
Not when I'm being a slave. I can only cum when I'm making love in the normal
way, with an equal."

Is this a trick? I look for a hint of a sly, sub joke in his tone, on his face.
But there isn't anything. I ask, "Tell me truly, slave do you mean to tell me
that if you were to get the most expert - and I mean expert - attention on your
prick from any of the women in this house, now, you would not be able to cum?"

"That's what I mean, Mistress."

"I can check this, you know."

"I know. Ma'am."

"Okay. So let's say that you do cum, shoot your wad, whatever. It's mine, isn't
it?"

He gives me one of those Yes-baby-but-I-know-we're-going-to-fuck-sooner-or-
later looks. "Sure, it's all yours. Mistress."

I don't say anything. I just leave him and turn my back and head off out the
room.

***

Slut Dana is on her hands and knees, eating her Mistress Stacey. Gobble gobble
lick. Stace already has that slit-eyed, tight look on her face that tells you
she's about to O pretty quick. She's sitting on the very edge of the bed, her
skirt (only thing she's wearing) up round her waist, and she's twisting her own
nipples like they're bottle caps. Dana's leash in her mouth. I hardly like
intruding on romantic scenes, but Dana's ass is up and her shaved lips are
smiling at me, like please Mistress Cath! - they seem to be saying.

I go and reach under Dana's ass. Her smooth cunt and thighs are clammy and
soaked, and there's a strong smell of piss coming from her. Her panties are on
the floor. She doesn't look round, but keeps licking.

Stacey's eyeing me. I put a hand over my pussy, and spread myself open with two
fingers. That says: Want you. She spits out the leash and mouths silently back
at me: Fuck you. I laugh, and she laughs best she can.

And she tugs on the leash, and says, "Ready toilet?"

Dana nods. I go over and sit and kiss Stace on the mouth. She tastes of cunt
herself I knew she couldn't resist Dana's pissy puss while I was out the room.

I hold Stace tight to me and kiss her until she catches a breath, then lets go
and fills Dana's mouth with her pee. I have to hold her real tight then,
because she's cumming right after. Staring into one another's eyes, we listen
to the gulping and splashing, and finally we fall back on the bed.

It's moments like this that make me so glad I'm not married to that shit-head
realtor any more.

We let Dana get some towels and mop up. This is her guest room after all, and
so nicely done out in prints and flowers nice that is except for the stench of
pee. She rushes around with her leash swinging this way and that, her bra still
on.

I say to her, "Hey, what's this about Josh can't cum?"

She nods, wadding up a towel. "Not while he's like this, no he can't."

Stacey gets up on her elbows. "What? You're not telling me he's impotent, a
hunk like that?"

Dana says, "No he isn't. But when he's in sub role, he never cums. He just
simmers and obeys. That's why he likes it so much, Mistress. He'll orgasm only
during straight sex."

"I'm not having straight sex with him, Stace," I say, trying to be firm and
truthful in my tone.

"No you're not!" she explodes.

"Then the idea is out."

"No."

Dana is shaking her head. "What idea? I don't understand."

"Shut the fuck up, slut." Stacey gives her another of her famous scowls.

"No, shut the fuck up yourself mistress and listen to me! I'm in on this."

Whoops! Excuse us? Is that Dana-slut speaking? It sure enough is though, and
you could cut the silence in here with a riding crop. She goes on, a moment
later, "I mean, like I'm sorry and all, but there's something very weird here,
way more weird than my usual shit." She drops the towel, and without a single
downward glance or request for permission, she sits beside me (beside me!!!)
and lays her arm round my shoulder.

I look at Stacey, but Stacey's thinking out and away somewhere else. Like I've
said, I don't always want to know what's going on behind those eyes.

"Okay, Dana," I go, "that's it I guess." And I wonder what the hell we're going
to do about our leashed up pet in the other room. Shit, at least Stacey got an
orgasm out of the deal before it was all over! Damn that Stacey, always gets.

Stacey says, "Oh, we'll do it all right. Nero's pet slave out there doesn't
think he can cum, doesn't he?"

She says it in that calm, Stace-voice that makes me shiver. We look at her,
Dana and I.

"Dana-slut," Stacey says with a smile, "Be a darling and clean the rest of this
relish off of my tits, will you? I want to be spotless while we figure."

***

So in ten minutes the three Weird Sisters have it all figured. Dana, our third
sister-in- crime, our lover and slave and friend, is with us again, for ever
and ever and ever this time. We kiss and cry, and we strip naked and stand in a
witch-circle in the middle of the floor, hugging.

It's going to be our own rug rat! All of ours -- Stace and Dana and me, we're
going to have a rug rat, and it's going to have three mommies! Won't it love
having three mommies? We're so happy and in love, and so READY. No wonder we're
crying. This is how it was meant to be all along. It's like a honeymoon night.
We've figured it all out, and it's going to work.

Stacey goes to her bag and takes out Garth. I've often wondered about Garth,
which is just a thick, smooth, chrome-plated vibrator with wires running out
the end into a battery box. She never would let me touch it, saying only that a
guy she knows, who makes toys down near where she lives, made it for her to
certain specifications. Not that it matters. She says Garth will provide, and
if Stace says that, I know it to be true. She also paid a lot of money for this
thing, way more than any fool would pay for a vibe.

Now Dana hurries off and comes back with a garland of cloth flowers, which she
plops on my head. She wore it as Titania in Midsummer Night's Dream, she says,
and when I look in the mirror, hey I could be that very woodland queen! Perhaps
not so dressy as in that movie, but I'm that head-space all right.

Only they decide to call me Queen Bee. Stacey and Dana are my drones, excepting
they're female of course and drones are usually male. But this is witchery, and
anything can happen with witches, even males becoming females. Kissing me on
either cheek, my drone- esses lead me down the hall by the hands, into the
lair.

"Avert your unworthy eyes, groveling ass-slave!" Stacey chants out in her best
bad Shakespeare. "Pity we have no asses ears for this prick, or mayhap do we,
Dana-love?"

"We know what he is," Dana sniggers, "wardrobe not necessary."

Josh looks a bit puzzled at this new version of Dana, and he smiles and looks
down at the carpet like he's supposed to. He'll go along with a good role-
playing gag, you can see that. It's part of the sub make-up, it's what they're
FOR, plus whatever that male psyche thing is that's telling him he's going to
get his dick in me one way or the other. Oh, he's happy enough.

Stacey undoes the cuffs, and leads him on all fours from the chesterfield to
one of those pillar-shaped CD tower-racks over in the corner. It's loaded with
hundreds of the things, all around it.

"Kneel, and hug it, slave," she orders him.

"I'd no, I'd sooner you used something else," he starts. "This isn't very firm,
and it's my" "Fuckin' do it! I can't believe this piece of shit, can you,
Dana?"

Dana shrugs. "It's his Elvis collection. All Elvis, every one of them."

"Then you better hug it VERY CAREFULLY, understand?" Stacey spits in his ear.

She cuffs his wrists round the base of the CD rack.

Now I'm just very slightly worried. Elvis? I don't know about rug-rat being a
latent Elvis fan. Nothing wrong with the King, but I'm being led to the
chesterfield. Josh, unattended, looks over his shoulder as my drone-esses lay
me out on the seat. They cushion my head, and spread my legs. Dana finds an
extra cushion and tucks it under my ass.

And they make love to me. It's tender, three-way, kissing-love. Like we want so
much, so badly to make a baby, and the way you do that is to open up the other
person, all ways, and make them yours that way. Hands and hair drift over my
face, lips (not mine) meet above my face and I hear the brushing and the
breathing sounds they make. I reach and hold them both to me, both my witch
sisters and Queen Bee keepers and givers of my nectar. And they then get
harder, more insistent in preparing me for my gift. Fingers knead my breasts,
other fingers trace lower, a hot mouth drops on mine, and I can't see but I can
feel my cunt being kissed at the same time, and GOD but I have to grab and pull
that face to mine. They are making me open and wet, and more open and gasping
yet, so my body is melting and ready to take the seed.

"What are you doing?" I let out, and sweep the face (it's Dana's face) from my
way and lean up on my elbows. But I know what she's doing ohh I knew it. Her
hand, Stacey's, is four fingers in me, four fingers and the thumb, and still
pressing. The pressure is huge, I have to gasp and let go my innards. Dana
holds me by the shoulders "You're okay sweet, just let it happen" and I watch
and Stacey, her loving eyes on me, gets her whole fist in me, the lovely bitch.

"I love you Stacey!" And she smiles, and looks at Dana, and I look at Dana and
tell her too "Dana I love you." They look at me, and I know they love me, and
that's all I really want but fuck I'm so turned on by not just the fist
(fingers twisting at my womb) but by us, the bees, waxing away, droning,
busying, my nipples and insides burning Stacey says, gently, "You keep her
there now. Keep her right there." And she slowly drags her hand out of me. "And
keep her open big, we need that."

Stacey slips away, and Dana is over me now, covering my face with kisses while
her hand finds my slack cunt and fingers it. I feel three go in, three crossed
fingers. Fuck me Dana. I'm not speaking anymore though. FUCK ME DANA. She can
hear me through my eyes yes, fuck me Dana my gorgeous ex-slut now Peas-Blossom
witch.

Over your shoulder, Dana, I see Stacey standing over the Elvis-hugging Josh
with her shining metal cock, running it between her legs, then against her
crotch.

"That's a kind of vibe, is it Ma'am?" Josh asks. He's figured it's for him, and
seems to be mentally figuring its caliber. So he should.

Stacey continues wiping it with her juice.

"I was just wondering why the extra wires just a battery vibe?"

Stace, regal as me, shakes her head in pity, almost, at the uppity slave-
question. Like, what the fuck kind of sub are you, quivering beneath a dildo?
She leans over him, puts it to his mouth. He licks it.

"You don't even deserve to taste this," she says, a mere comment. Then, "Offer
your asshole, slave."

"Just take care, please Ma'am, what with the and this thing isn't steady
Ma'am." Meaning the Elvis tower.

But he does it. He presents his asshole to Stacey. Purple it is, his sperm-rich
balls hanging below.

"But you know that, Ma'am oh!" He's getting the tip already, worked into him
with a twisting motion, not too gentle and not waiting overlong for his ass to
adjust to its size. You see him suck in a breath, and shut the fuck up nicely
as he concentrates without choice on this new thing inside him. Then his prick
suddenly springs up! You see it go up, Dana? Wow did you see that thing go? It
near slapped his belly, it came up so quick.

I whisper in her ear. "Dana, don't stop." Because she did, watching as I was
and caught by the sight of this man-fucking. She turns to me, lowers her lips
to me and kisses with her hot breath on my face while her fingers turn in me
(four now, easing deep and loving), turning just like that silver cock is
turning in that man's ass.

The CD tower rattles, a case plops down and crashes open. Josh seems about to
say something, but only goes HAH! His ass is full-reamed now by a full seven
inches of surgical- grade steel now driving into him hard by Stacey's merciless
wrist.

Dana bites my lower lip. Playful bitch...

"Pay attention Dana," Stacey warns.

It's nearly time, of course. Stacey is twisting that bullet inside Josh's ass
like she's ratcheting a rusty bolt, and her other hand is now on the battery
box at the end of the wires. Only it's not a battery box really, is it? I
didn't understand the terminology when she explained it just now, but it
increases something by a humungous amount. Voltage? Amperage? (I should have
stayed in school.) Static discharge? Stacey nods, quickly, and Dana pulls out
of me. Josh isn't looking any more, he's gazing at the carpet and the broken-
open box to "Blue Christmas", his mouth slack. Another nod from Stace, and Dana
slips quickly over to them. She gets on her back, and slides beneath Josh to
take his cock in her mouth.

"Oh baby," Josh groans.

I am open for them. My clit is a hard little bad cock.

I see Stacey flip the switch, and that's all for an instant. Dana's laying,
sucking that beautiful cock that I still wish in a way, in just a small way,
was fucking me.

Then it's like we've put a real bullet clean through Josh's cortex. He howls
"OHHH!" and near leaps up, such a jolt that Dana has to pull hard on his cock
to keep him in her mouth oh so essential! and he embraces Elvis suddenly with
such love you'd think he was going to fuck the King himself, not the fairy
queen in her garland and wet-open cunt. Dana's mouth bulges in an instant, yet
she keeps her mouth firm. Is that burning-hair smell? An electric smell? It's
sort of thunder-stormy for an instant, ozoney.

"Keep it in, Dana!" Stacey cries, and at that instant the dildo flies back out
of Josh's ass, brown-streaked. It clunks on the carpet, and the moment it
touches, there's a blue flash. Yow! "It's okay now," Stacey goes, backing away
from it, "only a final bit of discharge." She drops the box.

Never mind the sobbing, ass-puckered Josh, never mind his courtship death-lunge
now with the King and his Works it's Dana with her precious cargo we care
about. She pops her mouth off her man's cock, his prick cum-dripping still, and
scrabbles over the floor to my love-bed. She meets Stacey over my crotch.

Stacey holds out her hand, cupped. "Give it me."

Dana opens her mouth over the hand, and dribbles the cum in one gooey string
into it.

"It's yours too, Dana," Stacey whispers, "it has your DNA spit binding it, and
now it will have mine." When the drool of sperm has passed into her hand, she
drops a gob of her own spit into it. "And now, our love and mother Cathy it is
yours too. It is all of ours."

I hold myself open then, do it myself with my own fingers, holding my breath
too, while Stacey shoves her fingers, her fist-load into me. This time I feel
the heat of it, the poor thing whatever it is (but this thing of our love, as
it spills from Stacey's hand into me), now forced up to my womb in Stacey's
hand.

I cry. Elvis makes a million clatters and curses, but that's miles away. Two
other mothers look down on me with such love while I cum and grab and hold
Stacey's hand tight inside me.

END

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