Author: Virtual Scott
Title: Falling
Part: 10
Summary: Linnea has to choose between Stacey and Jenny
Keywords: mc FF fdom magic ws nc

Chapter 10, In which Stacey is a hater

I suddenly awakened, gazing silently at the ceiling of the darkened
bedroom. The soft sound of Stacey's breathing came from atop the bed, but
that wasn't what had roused me. I listened carefully, feeling aches in
every inch of my body.

Some of it was sleeping on the floor; the comforter puddled beneath me
didn't do much to disguise the unyielding hardwood beneath it. I suspected
I'd have felt the same way if I'd been in my usual location on the sofa;
most of the damage had come from straining muscles I didn't even know I
had as Stacey had teased me through an unending series of titanic orgasms.

My face heated at the memory, which was impressive considering I was a
self-professed slut. Perhaps it was because none of the climaxes had been
of the usual physically-induced variety; perhaps it was because my parents
had witnessed most of them. Perhaps it was something deeper.

The soft hum repeated, disrupting my thoughts, and I recognized the sound
of my phone in vibrate mode. I rolled silently to my feet, stifling a sigh
as I flexed my protesting core muscles, and crept out of the bedroom
without disturbing the rhythm of Stacey's sleep. Where had she left the
phone?

I found it sitting on the counter with my keys. The display glowed
brightly, displaying only three uppercase letters -- "JTX". As I looked at
it, the phone vibrated again, triggering a rush of moist heat inside me. I
bit my lip and couldn't resist the temptation to stroke my
suddenly-throbbing clit.

"JTX" was Jenny in Texas, the stripper with whom I'd been having a torrid,
if long-distance, affair. Like me, she was a slut who delighted in giving
and receiving sexual pleasure, and if there were any two more compatible
people in the world, I'd have to see them to believe it. The problem was
that I was desperately in love with Stacey, and she was the jealous type.

Stacey had found out I'd been cheating on her the previous night, and it
had been as bad as I'd feared. Jenny was safely out of harm's way in
Texas, but I'd been right there to soak up all of Stacey's hurt and
wrathful retaliation. I'd been mind-fucked to the point where I didn't
even really care anymore, mostly. Just doing what Stacey wanted was enough
to get me off.

The phone buzzed again and I gasped, my finger twisting the rings that
trapped my clit between them. Touching myself that way definitely was not
on the list of things Stacey wanted, but just now, the top of the list was
"*don't ever have anything to do with Jenny again.*"

Since I'd been talking and texting with Jenny every day for months and
loved her just as much as I loved Stacey, I *really* wanted to answer the
phone. Knowing that I was denying myself the pleasure of doing so, just
because Stacey wanted it, had me wound up tighter than if the phone had
been a vibrator buried in my sensitive ass.

The phone went quiet and reported, "Missed calls: 4". I'd been a good
girl, and not answered. The thought left my knuckles white on the counter
and my knees gave out. Liquid heat coated the fingers of my other hand and
I moaned raggedly, unable to stave off my orgasm. I listened, but the rest
of our apartment remained quiet.

A short buzz jerked me back to my feet. "JTX: r u there?" I moaned again,
creaming like cheap bacon on a hot griddle as I swayed on my feet, caught
between competing imperatives.

I knew I couldn't go on this way. I loved Jenny -- closer than a sister,
more than a lover, like we'd become two halves of the same person. I
didn't want to see her suffer at Stacey's hands. But the way it made me
feel to obey Stacey -- it was like being fucked in the brain by Aphrodite.
I knew I couldn't resist. A growing part of me thought Jenny would like
it, too.

A shaking hand reached out and -- after two tries -- turned off the phone.
Moisture trickled down my thighs like I'd peed, and no caress was needed
to tease myself into another massive climax. I huffed for breath and
pulled on my stiff nipples, trying to prolong the pleasure, but the
physical sensation subsided beneath the knowledge that Stacey did not like
me masturbating.

I mewed like a kitten as my hands fell away and the heat of obedience
roused me once more. At some point I'd fallen on the floor, but I didn't
remember it. I panted breathlessly, realizing that it wouldn't be long
before I stopped thinking about what Stacey wanted and just did it -- like
Daddy and Mommy and Michael.

The thought of that happening to Jenny was unbearable. I had to act while
I still could.

A moment of careful listening confirmed the apartment was still silent.
Quiet as a mouse, I crept down the hall to the closet which was where I
kept my belongings. Burrowing through it on hands and knees, I found the
unfashionable boots buried in a back corner.

They should have been donated or tossed years ago, but now they served a
more important purpose. Stretching my fingers, I reached down the length
of the left boot and hooked out the small zip lock bag stuffed up by the
toe. I smoothed it gently, almost tenderly, on the floor and gazed at the
hair clippings sealed inside.

Jenny had saved her pubic hair when she'd shaved it off, and given it to
me just before we'd parted. In my hands, it was a silly sentimental
keepsake; the ring riding beneath my clit was a more tangible expression
of our mutual love.

In Stacey's hands, the hair was a weapon of unimaginable power. I didn't
understand it, really, but she could work magic and hairs were the
talismans she used to bend people's perceptions, thoughts, and desires to
her will. They were the difference between a Jenny safely beyond Stacey's
jealous vindictive rages, and a Jenny who might find herself doing...
anything.

Perhaps it was unkind of me, but I did not imagine Stacey doing anything
nice to Jenny. I loved both of them more than I could describe, and I
couldn't let it happen -- no matter how much Stacey might disapprove. If I
were lucky, she'd never find out and the issue wouldn't come up; if not,
well... I'd take my punishment. Stacey loved me too, in her way, and
hopefully it wouldn't be too bad.

Shaking aside my introspection, I picked up the bag and padded quietly to
the bathroom. Offering silent apologies, I opened the baggie and carefully
emptied its contents into the toilet bowl. I couldn't chance missing even
a single hair, so I ripped the bag into pieces and dumped it in, too.

Relieved to have succeeded, I flushed the toilet and blinked rapidly as I
got blinding light instead of the expected rush of water. I realized I was
standing in Stacey's bedroom with my hand on the floor lamp chain.

Stacey sat up in bed and looked over at the contents of the popcorn bowl
sitting on the chair in front of me. "And what do we have here?"

"Nothing," I mumbled, sounding as guilty as I looked, I'm sure. "Just some
trash."

She leaned over and picked up the bowl, looking at it with interest.
"Hair, and not your color, either. Whose hair is it, Linnea? Tell me."

The habit of obedience was already too strong to resist a direct request.
"Jenny's," I gasped. The gasp was from the sudden heat inside me, not
reluctance. "She shaved her pussy for me, and gave me the hairs," I added
with a rush, feeling a bit juicy for being so helpful.

"How convenient," Stacey drawled, looking pleased -- I hoped it was with
me. "Be a good girl and go fetch your phone, will you?"

By the time I returned with it, Stacey's lips were gleaming in the soft
light and I could smell the hair in the pillar candle next to the bed. She
spread her legs in wordless invitation and I fell to my knees and began
tonguing her. Every twitch and soft sigh she made sent cream trickling
down my inner thighs.

Well before either of us was satisfied, Stacey pushed me away, and then
snipped a small lock of hair from my head. "I hope we won't be doing this
too many more times, or you'll need a shorter cut," she quipped.

I hoped so too, since I owed my current style to her and knew it already
was just the way she wanted it. I nodded, uncertain what she was driving
at. I settled for watching attentively as Stacey trailed my platinum
strands along her lips before sensuously swallowing them. I had to admit
everything she did was sensuous.

"Listen carefully, Linnea," Stacey commanded, and of course, I did. "I
know you love me, and want to please me, and doing what I want excites
you, right?"

"Oh, yes," I panted, melting in her regard.

"Now I understand that you have minor attachments to other people, and
occasionally you might want to do things for them on your own initiative.
Things that might be different than what I would want."

I nodded, relieved she was being so understanding.

"Well, from now on, Linnea, if you do something -- or even *think* about
doing something -- that you think might displease me, you'll lose control
of your bladder, right away. Then you'll come and find me, before you do
*anything* else, so we can decide together on the best thing to do."

"Thank you, Stacey," I whispered, glad that she trusted me to police
myself. "I love you so much!"

"I love you too, Linnea," she told me, with an amused smile of approval
that made me so hot I wanted to finger myself.

Instead, a small trickle of urine splattered on the floor. My face
reddened while Stacey regarded me with a raised eyebrow.

"Already?" she asked, sounding faintly disappointed.

"I just thought I'd like to touch myself -- I wasn't going to *do* it!" I
wailed. "I know you don't like me masturbating."

"Poor baby," she crooned understandingly. "You'll get better with
practice. Now clean that up before it ruins the floor."

I didn't want to risk another accident, and I knew how Stacey's mind
worked, mostly. I scooted backwards a little and bent to the floor,
licking my piss from the polished hardwood. There wasn't really much of
it, and the lack of comment was all the approval I needed. This time I
concentrated only on the joy of making Stacey happy.

When I was finished, I looked up to see Stacey finish coating a
healthy-sized lock of Jenny's hair with the nectar leaking from her labia.
Half of the lock went into her mouth, to disappear down her throat. She
held the remainder of the tuft over the candle.

I wet myself again, drawing Stacey's ire. "Oh, please!" I begged. "I love
Jenny so much; can't you do what you did last night, to me? I know she'd
love you, and she's so wonderful, you'd just adore her. We could all be
together."

Stacey's expression was answer enough, and a powerful yellow stream gushed
to the floor as I persisted in my entreaties. "Please, if you love me?"

"Love?" Stacey laughed harshly. "Jenny doesn't love you, Linnea; she's a
home wrecker! Look at yourself! She's been trying to lure you into her web
since you met, tearing us apart. Even now, when we should be together in
perfect love, this Jenny is between us, hurting you. Why else would you be
crying and pissing yourself like a baby instead of orgasming with me?"

She threw the hair into the candle, and I felt something break inside me.
"Trust me, Baby; I know what's best for both of us. Today you're hurting,
but some day you'll thank me for this. Now, call her."

I really wanted to call Jenny. I wanted to hear her voice one more time. I
could tell her to run, to hang up; my empty bladder clenched. I turned on
the phone and moaned with the pleasure of obeying Stacey. The phone booted
in slow motion, each block in the progress bar marking time in my internal
struggle. I was obeying; I could still save Jenny; the moment of decision
was still in the future.

"Stand up!" barked Stacey; I complied without thinking. "Walk over here.
Wipe off your legs on the sheets. Sit beside me."

Too late, I realized the series of innocuous commands had reasserted the
habit of obedience and fanned the furnace of my body to nearly unendurable
levels. When Stacey touched me, her hand felt like a branding iron resting
on my thigh.

"Call her," she repeated.

It was Stacey's name I moaned as my trembling fingers hit the speed dial.
I loved Jenny, but my body wanted Stacey more. I felt like a traitor. I
felt like an incipient supernova.

"Linnea, you little slut! Where have you been?" Jenny's voice was a balm
on my aching heart.

I cried, but my tears were silent because I knew Stacey wouldn't want the
distraction. My teeth drew blood on the back of my hand when I exploded a
millisecond after handing the phone to a triumphant Stacey. I tried to
quiet my breathing so I could hear their conversation.

"Is this Jenny?" Stacey asked carefully.

"The one and only," Jenny laughed. "Hey, are y'all one of Linnea's
friends?"

"Listen," Stacey said abruptly. She stared at the phone with ferocious
intensity, her eyes almost seeming to glow in the dim light.

"You have never met a Linnea. You will gag uncontrollably any time you
ever try to say the word 'Linnea'. Women repulse you; you cannot bear to
touch or clean or groom yourself in any way. You only enjoy fried food,
and cannot stop eating until you have vomited. Sex does not excite you
unless you are paid for it, and then it is unbelievably arousing. When I
hang up, you will immediately drop your phone in the nearest toilet. Enjoy
your new life."

Stacey hit the end button and carelessly tossed the phone over her
shoulder onto the bed.

"Jenny," I whispered, stunned at the totality of Stacey's retribution.

"There is no Jenny," Stacey told me. "Forget her; she's in your past." She
swung a leg over me, muzzling me with her pussy, which was leaking more
than usual. "But we'll always be together to look out for each other,
Linnea. Now, clean me up, and since I'm in a good mood, I'll return the
favor."

She was as good as her word. I extended my tongue, tasting her and feeling
the pleasure return and suffuse my body. Just then, mindless rut seemed
particularly attractive; the knowledge that Stacey wanted it for me just
made it easier.

I rode the wave of orgasms higher and higher. It was so much easier to let
Stacey make the decisions, and it felt so much better. I loved being her
slut.