Dominance in Despair

Chapter 2

Respite

Author's Note: Please leave reviews. Positive reviews are greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Pointless flaming "just because" you don't like it/object to the subject matter will be countered as vulgarly, immaturely and directly as I can muster.

This story is rated M for cursing and strong sexual content. This is a story of someone whose goal is to completely dominate and control the subjects of this story, and the content may prove disturbing to some readers.

Consider yourself warned. If you read on, it's not my fault if you can't handle it.

Journal Entry 2: Thank god I got my money out of the trusts and into my offshore before my father thought to freeze my assets. For someone so critical of me, he seems to want to make things as hard for me as possible.

I decided to adopt a different name. If someone knew who I was, they would be enticed by the fortune associated with my family, and I will have proved nothing. Nobody would be curious about an "aspiring writer" showing up in a town.

I think I have found the perfect target. My sources tell me about a family in a small town out in the middle of nowhere. A standard, generic family if I ever saw one. One son, two daughters.

The wife, Marge, is absolutely gorgeous. The pictures my investigator sent me are astounding. In addition, she has two daughters. One of them is a little young, but the other is like a flower, just beginning to blossom.

And soon, they will all be mine...

Homer grumbled as he picked up his coat. "Marge, I'm going to Moe's. I'll be back later."

Marge clenched her fists as she stood up from the couch. "Again? Homer, our son, our only little boy, is in prison, possibly for the rest of his life, we can't afford a proper legal defense and YOU'RE GOING OUT DRINKING?"

Beforehand, Marge would only yell at her husband when the kids were away. Nowadays, she didn't have the patience, following her husband as Lisa and Maggie remained motionless in their seats.

Homer turned to face his faithful wife indignantly. "Look, I earn the money in this house, I can go out drinking if I want!"

"Of course you go out drinking if you want. It's all you EVER want," Marge snipped back. Her chest heaved in anger, her plain green shoulder-less dress moving with every infuriated gasp. "I barely tolerated your problem before, but now I refuse! We can't get Bart a proper lawyer, but you don't mind pissing away our money in a beer mug! We can't even afford to cover all our bills anymore, that's why we're renting out Bart's room, remember?"

Homer opened the front door with a huff. "I work hard every day Marge, I deserve a little relaxation! God knows I'm not getting it in this house..."

Marge just became angrier. "I wonder whose fault THAT is! If you walk out that door, don't you dare come back!"

Lisa covered Maggie's ears with her hands as they sank further into the sofa.

Marge clenched her fists harder as Homer answered her by walking through the door and slamming it shut. He may be the breadwinner, but Marge was incensed that he always had time for drinking with his buddies. Marge had been to every court date, ever interview with the police. She hasn't even had Homer to herself long enough to tell her that Bart was going to be tried as an adult.

"Lisa...Maggie...I need you to go upstairs, OK? Go play in your room."

"Mom," Maggie quivered, "Everything's going to be alright...right?"

Marge remained silent as Lisa shushed her sister. It may have taken her forever to start speaking, but right now Marge wishes she hadn't. Maggie had this terrible habit of saying exactly what she didn't want to hear.

"Come on Mags," Lisa said helpfully, sensing the frustration and despair radiating from her mother. "Let's go to my room. I'll braid your hair."

"Thank god for Lisa," Marge thought quietly to herself as the two stood and left. Marge collapsed in the easy chair, playing with a few strands of hair hanging from her trademark beehive. Trying to save enough money for the lawyer has forced her to put off other things previously taken for granted, among which was her trips to the salon. That, combined with the stress of her inconsiderate bastard of a husband and the prospect of her little boy spending the rest of his life behind bars have left her hair starting to unravel.

She looked down as she twirled her hair in her fingers, the edge of her dress framing her ample breasts like a green horizon. The frustrations mounting in the other aspects of her life certainly was not helping matters. She shifted her legs as she traced the edges of her cleavage with her finger, watching her yellow skin react and raise up in bumps as her fingernail scraped its smooth, supple surface.

Perhaps it was time to take a relaxing bath, Marge thought.

The doorbell rang.

Marge bolted upright. It had been a month since Bart was taken away, but still the sound of the doorbell brought back a mild feeling of dread as the events of that traumatic night played in her mind.

Brushing it off, Marge put aside her thoughts as she rose to answer the door. Two weeks, and still no answer to the ad for Bart's room.

"Well Hi-diddly-i-oh there neighbor-rooski." Ned Flanders.

Marge let out a little disappointed sigh but still managed a slight smile for her long time neighbor. "Hi Ned...can I do something for you?"

Marge looked her pious neighbor over, and for a split second, she wished that he wanted something...her.

"Well Marge, I'd hate to be a Nosy Neville, but I overheard you and Homer...disagreeing." Ned's frown deepened. "You know, if you ever needed help...you know, someone to watch the girls, maybe a bag of groceries here and there...I'm here for you."

Marge smiled through her brief glimmer of disappointment, not that she could expect the kind of help she was needed from such a religiously strict person. "Thank you Ned...but...we'll manage, somehow."

Ned smiled and reminded her the offer would always stand before turning and leaving. Shutting the door behind him, Marge let out a massive sigh and stared at the floor. Her long legs reached towards the ground, ending in her worn but comfortable red house shoes. Kicking them off, she started up the stairs, heading for the bathroom.

Her bare feet barely made a creek as she drew herself up the stairs. At the top, she heard Lisa and Maggie chatting behind Lisa's closed door, Lisa apparently keeping her promise to Maggie.

Marge thanked her lucky stars, she needs some time to herself.

Opening the door to the main bathroom, she closed the door behind her, locking it with a faint click. Sitting on the edge of the linoleum bathtub, she turned the knobs to the water control, adjusting them to find the perfect temperature. curling her toes into the yellow bath rug, standing starkly over the deep blue carpet.

Drawing her fingers through the water, she finally found a temperature she wanted and closed the plug on the drain. Leaving the tub to fill, the room began to fill with a light haze of steam as she stood and looked at herself in the mirror. She stared at herself for a moment before removing her hairpins, her beehive collapsing like an avalanche of blue, silky snow. Her hair hung loosely down to her waist, the wavy locks absorbing the moisture in the air as she reached under the sink. Drawing out some candles, she placed them on the back of the toilet, lighting them with a match before turning off the light, the room taking on a whole new tone in the soft glow of the candle light.

After checking on the water level, she unclasped her red bead necklace, drawing it across her neck as she removed it and set it on the vanity, followed by her wedding band and earrings. She sighed as her hazel eyes looked her tired, stressed body over as she reached behind her back, her chest sticking out as she unzipped her trademark green dress. With a wriggle, the dress fell to a heap on the floor as she stood in her cotton panties, her dark-colored nipples standing in stark contrast to the soft, pliant yellow skin of her breasts. She watched as her image in the mirror fogged up.

Shutting off the water to the full tub, she slipped her soft panties off and kicked them into a pile with her dress, running her hands up her legs. Grabbing a razor, she began shaving, including her pubic hairs. Part of her thought it was silly for a woman her age to worry about such things, however she started shaving down there in an attempt to get Homer to pay attention to her again.

Now, she did it because she liked it.

Her task complete, she poured some bath salts into the tub and slinked into the water, her body writhing as she settled into the warm fluid. The therapeutic aroma from the candles flooded her senses as she sank further in, her hair spreading out like a bright blue aura radiating from her body. As her feet touched the other end of the tub, she reclined as the water raised just halfway up her breasts, the droplets glistening on her skin like a thousand jewels.

Marge sighed and closed her eyes, using her hands to spread soothing water across her chest. She let her worries melt away in the steam for a brief respite from the stresses of her self-destructing family life. On the fringe of her hearing she heard Maggie giggle, prompting her to flick the switch of a small white noise machine on the floor next to the tub. As its' smooth gurgling flooded the room, she ensured her reverie would not be disturbed by noises from the outside.

It served a second purpose, that her daughters would not hear what's going on inside.

As she drew her slender hand back to her body, her last thoughts about her retarded husband faded away into the mists. She squeezed the tops of her supple breasts, feeling the flesh roll and contort in her palms. Rolling her grip around, Marge let out a soft whimper as she massaged herself, the water gently sloshing with every pitch and roll her breasts made in the water. She sharply gasped, clenching her lower lip with her teeth as she let one set of fingers squeeze her nipple, feeling the sensitive lump harden and tingle with sensation at the touch.

"Oh..." she moaned softly as she rolled her other nipple between her index and forefinger, squeezing it between her fingers as she firmly fondled her breast. Her other hand began making its way southward, tracing the exquisite contours of her body with her finger. Marge drew circles around the features of her abdomen and navel, her body living proof of what could be done with a proper aerobics routine.

Her body was the envy of even the most lithe college co-ed, much less a mother of three, and as she rolled her breast up to suck her nipple lightly, she knew her time in this little world of hers would only last a little while, and she had to exploit it all she could.

As her hand finally traced further down across her groin, her legs squirmed in the limited room of the tub as she squeezed her fingers between her thighs. She gasped again, letting out a light squeak as her hand reached its destination, stroking up and down her fleshy lips as her back arched, her other hand reactively squeezing her breast even harder. It felt like lighting shot up her spine as she arched her back even further in pleasure, her eyes popping open as she moaned even louder as a thousand nerve endings, seemingly dormant from misuse, flared to life and wracked her body with a wave of pleasure, as if voicing its resentment at over a month of neglect. Her mind became light, unable to conjure a fantasy to accompany her pleasure as her body heaved in the water, spasming like an old motor returning to life as her body's physical needs and desires were brought to the forefront for the first time in a long time.

Marge's hand withdrew from her breast, grasping the side of the bathtub tightly as she used it to steady her quivering form, her other hand drawing back up to her pubis. She panted heavily, her rapid climax surprising her at just how badly she needed this. Closing her eyes again, she sank further into the water, her leg rising from the water and spreading across the tub's edge, pressing her foot against the tile wall and giving her better access to her womanhood. Her entire body sparkled and tingled at her touch now, her hand cupping and squeezing her breasts as they poked above the water's surface like two islands in the sea. Her hand brought one of the islands to her lips, squeezing the breast gently with her teeth before throwing her head back with a ragged "Aaaah...mmmm."

Her other hand found its' way back to her vagina, rubbing it with a firm, circular motion. Her hand began fondling her ample breast with a similar circular motion almost as if on instinct. The gurgling of the white noise machine filled her ears, her entire body twisting with every motion of her hand. A little water sloshed out of the tub, dampening the bath carpet as she parted her fingers, and with them, the fleshy lips protecting her sensitive sex.

Her lips parted, the Simpson matriarch moaned with a loud "Oooohhhhh" as her middle finger probed the pink flesh that reacted with waves of sensation with every twitch. Clenching her teeth, her back arched again, her hand claiming a vice-like grip on her bosom as she found the button she was looking for, her feet pressing hard against the far wall. Marge rubbed her clitoris with her finger, rolling it around like a joystick as her body melted back into the cascade of pleasure. Grasping her nipple firmly with her thumb, she tugged on her breast, rolling the flesh against her palm as she vocalized her pleasure more often and with more volume. Bringing her other leg up out of the water and pressing it against the side of the wall, her body pulsed in sync with every wave of pleasure she delivered herself.

Marge threw her head back so far, it seemed her neck was trying to leap out of her body as she applied both hands to stimulating herself. Her breasts rolled against each other as her chest matched the movements of her body as she writhed in her self pleasure, each stimulated nerve in her bosom adding to the cacophony of sensations her body emitted. Pinching her clitoris in her fingers and rolling it gently, she felt her body on fire as her body arched again, driving her crotch into her palms as another orgasm caused her body to spasm almost uncontrollably.

Her mind was gone now, her other hand sliding over the first one and inserting her index and middle fingers into her quivering hole. Her muscles tightened around them as she drew them in and out, pressing against the highly sensitive flesh as her entire body pulsed in tune with every wave of pleasure. Her moaning had become a melodious song of ecstasy, even overcoming the white noise machine, audible to anyone who would have been standing outside the door.

As one of the warm candles went out, the lights began to dim, Marge opened her eyes, rolling them back as her fingers continued their assault on her senses.

"Aaah...Oooooo...mmm...AAAH...OOOooooOoo..."

Every utterance she made accompanied another pulse of pleasure up her back. She felt her body press against the sides of the tub, trying to open up further, desiring more before reality pulled her back. Her body was a tempest of motion now, moving of it's own volition, the walls of her passage squeezing more and more against her fingers.

It was Marge's body, not her mind that caused her to suddenly disengage her hands. Twisting her body, she grasped the sides of the tub and pulled her quivering form onto the roomier floor, the water from her body soaking the carpet and mats as she laid on her back. Her mind focuses ever so slightly, reaching under the sink and behind the pipe where she keeps a purple dildo hidden.

Breathing heavily, she ran the rubber phallus across her body, squeezing her nipples as her back arched to bring her heaving, panting breasts to her hands. Bringing her knees to her chest, she supported her legs using the tub as her entire body shook in anticipation of this final act of self-gratification. She let out a gritted "MMMmmmm" as she rubbed the tip of the device against the entrance to her vagina, the fluids of her arousal allowing for easy entrance as she steadily guided the toy into her.

"Oooooohhhhhhhh," she quivered as she slowly drew the toy back, and then plunged forward again, the chilling air against her wet skin causing her hairs to stand on end, adding to the sensation. Breathing heavily, her entire body flared in the dim light as the tip pressed against her womb with every stroke.

Flicking a switch, Marge's bosom heaved into the air in an arch as the toy began gyrating and twisting inside her. Her toes curled as the waves of ecstasy enveloped her form, her hips grinding with the toy as she held it steady, her breasts arching into her palm with such force and frequency one would think they were trying to escape.

Marge tried to pull her head up to look, feeling the tug on her hair as it was held fast between her back and the floor. Dropping her hand from her breast, her fingers gripped the bath mat as she drew the toy back for one final thrust, the gyrating shaft setting every inch of her ablaze. She could feel the heat of her body clash with the cold air, her lungs drawing in air through gritted teeth. Her feet drew themselves from the tub edge, perching themselves on her toes on the floor.

"..."

With one mighty thrust, Marge drove the dildo home. As if pressing a button, reality exploded around her as her body was wrapped in her orgasm. She screamed in pleasure as body seemed to levitate, her entire form arching in ecstasy as it appeared to balance completely on her head and toes, a squirt of her love juices erupting from her body and splashing across the tub. The ground below Marge seemed to quake with her, her hand flying from the toy, grasping anything she could to stay attached to it.

As the climax faded, her body returned to the floor, her body falling limp in exhaustion and satisfaction. Her body quivered and heaved, her bust quivering like two bowls of gelatin, as her body sought to stabilize itself as her mind reestablished control. The toy continued to gyrate in her, sending small orgasmic waves up her spine until Marge brought herself to turn it off, withdrawing it from her with a distinctly organic sound.

Her surroundings seeped back into her consciousness as she lay on the floor, her skin glowing in the low light with a faint aura. "Oh god," she muttered to herself, unable to form words to express how long she had waited to do that.

As her mind adjusted itself back in reality, in the back of her mind, she found herself surprised and concerned. For the first time, following this kind of activity...

...she wasn't thinking about Homer.

She wasn't thinking about anybody at all, in fact. Marge did not have time to ponder this, though, as her consciousness snapped to attention with a knock at the door.

"Mom...Mom, are you in there?"

Marge took a moment to get over the freezing panic as Maggie spoke through the locked door. Based on Maggie's questioning, Marge hoped that she didn't hear anything. Pushing the switch on the white noise machine, she took a moment to catch her breath before replying.

"Yes Maggie sweetie...I'm taking a bath, what is it?"

Maggie answered, none the wiser. "Mom, there's a man at the door. He's asking about the room."

While Marge had been laying in the bathroom, her mind awash in her world, Lisa and Maggie were startled by the doorbell ringing. Rising to her feet, Lisa went downstairs to answer it, dressed in her comfortable two-piece pink silk pajamas. Her hair hung from her head loosely, as if Lisa had been preparing to go to bed.

Opening the door, Lisa was confronted by a young man. He didn't appear to be too old, early to mid-20s maybe. He was tall, the MENSA genius figured, a little over six feet. His black hair was cut short and ruffled along with his dirty clothes, which hung worn over his body, which was not particularly buff, but physically fit. In one hand he supported a canvas C-bag that Lisa assumed carried his belongings, and in the other hand was a crumpled newspaper, with Marge's room listing circled in red ink.

Lisa looked up at him. "He's cute," she thought as he smiled down at her. Despite her intelligence, she didn't realize she was blushing brightly as she stared at the smiling stranger.

"Excuse me, young miss, but are your parents available?" Lisa smiled faintly as her blush deepened at the sound of his melodic voice, her body reacting to the attraction her brain was completely missing.

Marge, meanwhile, hurriedly cleaned up the evidence of her deed, draining the tub and putting her artifacts away. Grabbing a towel, she briefly patted down her hair and body before slipping her panties back on. Pulling her dress back up her body, it seemed to catch against her wet skin as she forced it into position, zipping it up. Putting her necklace back on, Marge forgot her wedding band as she opened the door and headed down the stairs.

It had gotten dark out as Marge passed Maggie, reaching the bottom of the stairs. Maggie was dressed in her usual light blue nightgown, gripping the railing with her small fingers as her hair hung in braids around her face. Marge willed her weak legs into functioning properly as she laid eyes on the attractive young man. "Yes...yes sir. Can I help you," she croaked. She felt her face flush hot, almost as flushed as Lisa's, partially from what she just put her body through, but mostly from the image of the stranger now standing in her door. Maggie remained at the top of the stairs, peeking through the slats of the banister at the man.

The man smiled warmly, unbeknownst to them, noting every reaction of the three girls.

The young one's curiosity and mild trepidation, he tells himself, shows a personality that remains unschooled in the ways of the world, and therefore, easy to mold.

The pre-teen's friendly demeanor, as she faced him smiling, rocking slightly on her feet, told him of a girl transforming into a young woman, her head full of fantasy to be exploited.

The mother's inquisitive glances, along with the flushed body, betrayed to him exactly what he needed to know. The water still dripped from Marge's hair, droplets glistening on her shoulders and cleavage as her wet green dress clinged to her body a little more than normal. He had interrupted something, and with the apparent absence of the husband, as well as Marge's missing wedding ring, he figured the buxom housewife to be feeling neglected and frustrated, in more ways than one.

A perfect setup for the task he set out for himself.

"Hello there. My name is Paul. I understand you have a room to rent?"