One – It's fiction. It's not possible, and even if it were, it's highly immoral. Don't try this at home or anywhere else.
Two – It's erotic fiction. It shouldn't be viewed by anyone considered a minor in their local area or in an area where it's just not acceptable. It goes without saying (or should) that you also shouldn't be viewing it if you are offended by erotic materials.
Three – It's my erotic fiction. I retain all rights.
Grogginess, slow fog-drenched consciousness, struggling to think clearly. There was a pleasantly familiar odor in the air, like vanilla or banana, but she couldn't quite place it. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and rocks. She shook it slowly, trying to think. The room was dark. It was still night. She didn't recognize the room and her eyes were caked in sleep dust. She moved to clear them with her fingers...
... and couldn't move her hands. She tugged on them both, but they were fixed in place. A moment's struggling and she found that her feet were also bound. “What the fuck?” she muttered to the darkness, turning her head to try to see.
“Well, look who's up?” She didn't recognize the voice. She flipped her head over and saw, standing in the shadows of the room, another girl. She was her own age, tall, slender with dark hair cut short. She had a long dress like a sundress on and she was... what was the word? undulating her hips as she stood in place. It was like she was belly dancing with just her hips. “It's Jennifer Whitstone – Prom Queen, Head Cheerleader, mall rat, rich bitch, and oh yeah... murderer.”
Still feeling cloudy-headed, she muttered, “Who the fuck are you?”
“Oh, I'm sorry. The lights are off. Here, let me.” The figure strolled across the bedroom, and Jennifer had the distinct impression of someone who badly needed to pee, walking with their thighs pressed tightly together. The stranger flipped the switch and Jennifer was blinded, the light piercing her brain like a knife. It was worse than any hangover she'd ever had and she screeched with pain. Her apparent captor watched and smiled at her like a cat with a canary.
A clear complexion with black hair cut short and wild. A slender build with moderate breasts and just a little bit of hip – hips that were still swaying and bucking slowly. Full lips and green eyes that stared, waiting.
“Okay, again, who the fuck are you and why the fuck have you tied me up? No. You know what? Fuck that. I don't care who the fuck you are. Let me up, right fucking now.”
“Why do people always say that,” the stranger laughed. “I mean, if I'd thought for a second that you wanted to be chained to a bed, I would have bought you a drink first, right? Clearly, I know you're unwilling to be mickied and bound, so what makes you think I'm just going to let you go at the first hint of discomfort?”
The stranger smiled down at her and Jennifer felt the first real wave of fear wash over her. She gave a brief, weak tug on her restraints, and whispered, “I'll scream.”
“Go ahead. We're on my family's farm. The nearest neighbor is a mile away and my parents are out of town for another week.”
Her lips trembled. “Please?”
The stranger only smiled and ground her thighs together, swaying her hips. She sighed in pleasure, and told Jennifer, “Good girl. Learn to beg. It'll be useful in the years to come.”
Years? Jennifer lay staring, wide-eyed as the girl reveled in her obvious terror at the announcement.
“To answer your original question, I'm Georgia Finn – girlfriend of the late Mattie Brown.”
“Mattie Brown?” THAT name Jennifer recognized. “Oh, god.”
“Well, finally, a little comprehension. Yes, Mattie Brown, the girl you killed.”
Jennifer's whole body started to tremble. Weakly, she whispered, “It was an accident.”
Mistake. Enraged, Georgia leaned in to an inch from Jennifer's nose and screamed, “I don't fucking care what you think it was!” Jennifer whimpered, trying to pull back into the pillow, away from Georgia, but the snarling face only leaned in closer. “You made a series of conscious decisions that led to her death, bitch. The last of course, was flipping the ignition while you were stumbling drunk! We had to have a closed-casket ceremony, cunt, which as I recall, you didn't come to.”
“I spent the whole Summer in a hospital bed in prison!”
“You should still be there! Four months in jail and a five years of probation for murder. It's not right!”
“It was Manslaughter Two! Ow!”
Georgia had slapped her, hard. “Don't you dare belittle this. My love is dead because you were too fucking selfish to let someone drive you home. We were going to spend the rest of our lives together. We had plans. You took that away from us. I don't know what sort of legal tricks your daddy's high-priced lawyer pulled to get you out of jail in time for your senior year, but they will not work with me.”
Jennifer lay there, staring up at her as she seemed to remember herself, standing up straight and looking away. “I'm sorry.” It was the only thing she could think to say to her.
“I don't care,” Georgia told her quietly, looking her in the eyes again.
“Well then, what do you want from me?”
That cat-with-a-canary smile came back to Georgia's face and her hips started to slowly grind again. “It's simple, really. You took her away from me; you're going to replace her.”
“You're my new girlfriend.”
A tight, nervous laugh escaped Jennifer's lips. “You're crazy,” she said, “You can't really think I'm going to fall in love with you.”
“I never said you were going to love me. I sure as hell don't love you. But I happen to think you need to be punished more, and the punishment should fit the crime.”
“So, what are you going to do? Keep me chained to the bed and rape me?”
“Don't be stupid. I said 'girlfriend.' We're going to go out together to parties. We're going to kiss in public. We'll snuggle on the couch and watch movies with the folks and make hot, sweaty love all night long.”
Georgia was looking down at her, still grinding her hips slowly like she was getting off on seeing Jennifer like this, and smiling. “What the fuck makes you think I'm going to do any of that with you?”
Smiling, Georgia reached into the nightstand by Jennifer's head and pulled out a hypodermic needle. “This.”
“My god,” Jennifer whispered. The needle was empty, but there was a slight blue-ish tint to it that said there used to be something in it. “What have you done?”
“Gave myself a present to cheer myself up. I found this great website dedicated to revenge. Lots of people there swear by this stuff.”
“What is it?”
“Well, first I had to send some of your D.N.A. to this company. I broke into your gym locker for it. Hit paydirt, too. I didn't know how I was going to afford this shit until I found a pair of your silk panties in there, still waiting to get laundered. Had a few of your short hairs and lots of skin cells from your pussy all over the inside and still smelled delightfully of you. I sent them a photo of you and they were falling all over themselves to have your panties. Sick, but it got me half off in the deal.”
“You fucking bitch.”
Georgia smiled wide and ground her hips tight again, clearly pleased at Jennifer's discomfort. “Anyway, they sent me four of these. I injected myself with one a week, the last being two weeks ago. Now it should be all ready.”
“Would you just fucking tell me what it does?”
“It alters my body chemistry so that all of my bodily fluids become terribly addictive to whoever's D.N.A. is used to make it.”
The two watched each other for a moment, Georgia grinding her hips and smiling as Jennifer stared, open-mouthed, trying to make sense of what she'd just heard.
“My sweat, my saliva, my pussy juices, someday even my breast milk. Technically my urine, too, but you know... ick.”
“Yeah. As in, you're going to do anything I say just for the privilege of licking the sweat off my ass. Kissing me is going to be the highlight of your day and licking me out will be a rare, hard-earned treat.”
“This is a very bad joke.” Shaking down to her core, Jennifer started to tug on her restraints with earnest. Suddenly, that wonderful smell permeating the whole room made a horrific kind of sense.
“Well, I happen to be enjoying it,” Georgia told her, swaying her hips and moaning. “Can't you tell?”
“Stop doing that!” Jennifer screamed, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.
“What, this?” she asked, pointing at her swaying midsection. “I need to do this.” With that, she lifted the hem of her skirt to her waist.
She wasn't wearing any panties. A pair of leather straps dangled from between her legs. As Jennifer stared in horror, Georgia reached down and tugged on them, pulling a spongy sort of dildo out of her pussy. “I'm getting your gag all soaked and ready for you.”
She screamed, loud and shrill, as Georgia approached her with the gag, the shining wet dildo pointed at her lips. She clamped her mouth shut, tried to turn her head away, but Georgia calmly reached out and pinched her nose shut. When Jennifer tried shaking her head to get her off, Georgia lifted herself up and drove all her weight into Jennifer's abdomen with her knee, knocking the wind out of her. As soon as Jennifer's mouth popped open, she shoved the soaking gag in, pulling the straps as tight as she could, and buckling them around her head.
Jennifer tried to force it out, pushing at it with her tongue, but that only made it worse. It soaked her tongue with the fluids soaked into it and they dripped along the sides of her mouth and down her throat. Oh... god. It was wonderful. She couldn't like this. She musn't. But the more she got on her tongue – and the gag filled her mouth almost completely, so there was no place to avoid it – the more her tongue tried to suck off of it. In moments, she was sucking on it like a baby on its bottle, and she cried, Georgia smiling down at her all the while.
“Good girl,” she whispered, lifting the hem of her skirt again and planting two of her fingers into her pussy. “By the time you suck that dry, you'll be hopelessly hooked.” She bought her fingers out and smeared her juices under Jennifer's nose. Jennifer shook her head, muttering curses through the gag, even as she sucked on it, unable to stop. The smell of it on her lip was euphoric and she knew Georgia was right. As much as she hated it – as much as the idea of it made her sick – very soon, she'd be willing to do anything to get more.
Still grinning, Georgia climbed off the bed and walked to the door. “I'll come back in the morning,” she said quietly. “We'll go over some ground rules and if you're a very good girl, I'll let you kiss me.” Then she smiled sweetly and walked out the door, leaving Jennifer alone.
She made one last desperate cry, yanking at her restraints for all she was worth, but they held. Sinking into the sheets, she cried in defeat. Her mouth was watering uncontrollably, and that... wondrous... disgusting taste had washed itself into every corner of her mouth. It was up in her gums, flowing in between her teeth, under her tongue... there was no escaping it now. Her tongue had discovered the sponge rotated, and now it played with it, sucking at it, stroking it, turning it around and around. She didn't even really think about it anymore, and no amount of trying to stop yielded any result. It was too good. She couldn't stop. She stopped trying.
The sponge lost Georgia's taste in half an hour. She was still sucking madly at the sponge when she fell asleep two hours later.