"Yeah, it was an honest mistake, he didn't mean to take his sister's virginity." Rhiannon grinned. "But she got years of mileage out of blackmail! He had to do her all sorts of favours, including standing jigger while she had an orgy, and if he didn't she threatened to tell their parents!"
"That's better blackmail than Monica or Rachel ever got in Friends," Mike observed, grinning.
"Did Sally tell her Mom she'd popped her cherry?" Yvonne asked.
Rhiannon nodded. "Yeah, and believe it or not, I was there. She told her Mom she'd done it, but she didn't want to say who she'd done it with. Her Mom nearly spanked her, but I pleaded for her not to 'cause it was gonna happen sooner or later. So she let it go with a lecture about sex...which, in the end, Sally totally ignored," she grinned. "She swore me to secrecy and told me about David, and we fucked after she brought herself off in front of me - I bet she was fantasising about him. I'm only telling you now 'cause we're all adults now an' it doesn't matter any more."
More soberly, Marie asked, "Did Wilma mean it?"
"That she loved Sally? Yeah," Rhiannon answered, serious for once. "She gave Sally a blood transfusion when Sally was 10 and had an accident. You don't give blood to someone if you don't love 'em. Besides, Wilma apologised for bein' such a perverted bitch."
"I can hardly believe you were only 10 when Sally had you, let alone that you knew where your clit was at 3," Tom remarked.
"Yeah, yeah, ‛too young', but can I help it if I've always been a horny cunt an' I'm proud of it? C'mon, you prude - get naked, live already and fuck us stupid! Or me, at least! Guys, give us privacy already, willya? Tellin' this fuckin' incestuous sexy story has turned me on, so I wanna get laid!"
With fond kisses and laughter, they did just that, and Rhiannon, Tom and Marie enjoyed the subsequent threesome.
And Marie didn't think even once about her own brush with incest, as her Dad had tried to rape her at 12. She no longer thought about him or her birth mother at all. Why should she? They'd let her down - one abusing her trust, the other blissed-out on tranks.
No. These guys were her family now. These guys, and her friends in the Unit.
With joy, she came under their affectionate attentions. God, this is LIFE, Marie exulted as she climaxed and squirted. Rhiannon was delighted at this, eagerly licking her sex juices anew, and Marie climaxed again, after which she hugged them both.
I love these guys as my FWBs. Julie, my darling, it doesn't mean I love you any less, and I'll never forget you, I swear. But they give me as much pleasure as you used to. Wherever you are now, I hope you're happy.
Tom, meanwhile, was kept busy by the gay Mike Tyson (no relation to the boxer), who politely (and jokingly) propositioned Marie as well and was as politely rebuffed. Rhiannon chuckled, "Marie, he's kidding you - he's as gay as the day is long. I know, 'cause I flashed him my cunt and he wasn't interested. Queer, they used to call it. He's way more interested in Tom than he is in you!"
"Oh!" Marie managed, startled (but her days as a Blood had taught her to accept gays; two of them were queer, though neither one was into the other. Both, though, had been good friends and had treated her with respect). From this unlikely beginning (with Rhiannon openly masturbating on watching Tom and Mike kissing, caressing and fucking, loving the guy-on-guy action as the shameless randy tart she was), Marie's fifth Academy friendship was born. All five were different, but she loved them all, and they each loved her and each other, too.
From a distance Kelly watched with amusement and satisfaction; Marie was keeping her word to him and to her dead lesbian lover: living, loving and making something of herself. Though Streetcat was in theory dead and buried, Marie kept her alive via her bandanna and her tattoo, and the reports she affectionately delivered at Julie's grave, which she visited every year on June 18th, the night when Julie had succumbed to her post-partum depression and killed herself with an unlicensed .357 Magnum.
She had come far enough that she no longer cried at Julie's grave site; she only showed respect, kissing the gravestone and wishing her deceased lover well. But she was always alone; not even her closest friends and/or lovers knew about Julie, only her friends in the Unit, and they were sworn to secrecy. Not that they would have said anything to anyone anyway.
Marie was as surprised and delighted as anyone to be voted Valedictorian on the day she graduated, but her five Academy friends, who had also graduated (Yvonne as Salutatorian, despite her worrying grade in Software Stealth - Denny tutored her privately and helped her to salvage it), gave her wild cheers all the way to the podium.
She gave the expected speech, despite choking up with happy tears. She finished with: "I love you all! Even my trainers, you closet sadists! Yes, Lance, I mean you!" There were further wild cheers, plus laughter. "To the Commandant for giving me this chance, thank you! To Commander McAllister for believing in me, you are absolutely the best, sir! In 20th Century slang, you rock 24/7! PARTY ON, DUDES!"
The applause was thunderous, but only Kelly and the Unit knew how sincere Marie was. She meant every word.
By special invitation, even Violet Davies, Billy's birth mother, was there, crying happy and blowing Marie a kiss.
Unit HQ, the après-graduation party
That evening
Violet hugged her, sobbing, "Oh, well done, Marie, well done! And Valedictorian, yet! That's better than anyone expected!"
"Thanks, Violet," Marie gratefully returned. When they broke the hug, Marie took stock of the older woman and noted, "Hey, you look better than ever. What's your secret?"
The Denver girl giggled. "A new lover, who proposed to me last week!" She proudly showed Marie the engagement ring, which was a beautiful sapphire, Violet's birthstone, as she was born on September 5th. Having taken an elective course on precious stones, Marie could instantly see that the ring must've cost $5,000 at a minimum.
"Wow, that's some piece! He must really love you," Marie opined fondly.
"Oh, he does," Violet enthused, "his name's Robert, he's such a romantic - not what you'd expect from a financier, but he's spent his life confounding people's expectations. He's ten years older than me, which when we met three years ago put him outside the non-creepy rule -"
"Shades of Little Women, yeah," Marie nodded; Rhiannon had introduced her to it. She recalled the advice of Louisa May Alcott that a woman should be half her husband's age plus 7. When they met, when Robert had been 31, yeah, 15½ + 7 was 22½, so Violet had been too young then by the Alcott theory, but now he was 34, and 17 + 7 was 24, Violet's age.
"- but now, with him being 34 and me 24, he's spot-on, which only goes to show how silly the rule can be; it changes as you get older, but he's just as wonderful now as he was when I met him - at the service for Billy, before you ask," she added, sobering.
Marie fondly remembered Billy, and how he had died defending the Bloods. "So he knows about Billy?"
Violet nodded. "He keeps July 21st, Billy's birthday, special, bless him, no matter what's happening. He goes with me to Billy's grave, and cries if I do," she murmured, tears in her eyes. "He's not afraid to show his feminine side, which is why I fell in love with him. He's such a kind, dear, sweet man, but very much a man, believe me." She looked conspiratorial. "He finger-fucked me at a party, helped me to come, and even though I got soaking wet and my nipples were so hard, my parents never knew! Ooh, he's such a scamp at times, but I love him to bits."
"You dark horse, you," Marie chuckled. "Were you wearing panties?" she teased.
"No, and I wasn't wearing a bra, either, my dress was too close and sheer for that; even with a G-string I'd have had an awful VPL, so I did without any underwear," Violet giggled, "how naughty of me!"
The two women laughed together. But if Violet had become so daring in public as to be naked under her dress and to climax in plain sight, she had clearly gotten over Billy's tragic death, moving on as she had to and should - doubtless Robert had helped with that. She was obviously very happy, and Marie was glad of it. A woman who'd given birth to someone as selfless and brave as Billy (even though she'd been raped at the age of 12) deserved to be happy.
"What about you, darling? Anyone special?" Violet asked archly.
"Two FWBs, of both sexes, but no-one special yet, no," Marie admitted. "I'm not opposed, but the Academy kept me busy and, so Kelly tells me, the Unit will, too, even worse." Marie smiled. "But I know he or she is out there. I've time."
"And you'll find them soon, I know it," Violet too smiled, and they shared a gentle, chaste kiss on the lips, then Violet glanced at her watch and gasped. "Oh! I hate to love you and leave you, but Robert's picking me up for the trip back to Denver, I have to go!" They hugged again. "Take care, my love, and congratulations again!"
"Same to you," Marie smiled, as Violet waved and hurried out. As Marie poured a glass of punch, she became aware of a reassuring presence at her side.
The Commander warned her, "Careful of that punch, it's deadly. I should know - I was there when Jocelyn concocted it. You wouldn't believe the stuff she put in it."
"Knowing Dr. Jocelyn Barton, I'd believe just about anything," Marie quipped, taking a sip. It was way stronger than punch usually was, but it was smooth and delicious. It even smelled nice.
"So, not only a graduate, as I fully expected, but Valedictorian, no less," he congratulated her. She grinned and toasted him. "You realise, of course, that you're for it now? Expectations, especially mine, will be sky-high."
But Marie only shrugged. "Never expected anything different, Commander. But I promise I'll do my best." She sobered. "I swore it to Julie."
("Remember me," Julie had requested on that last, terrible night. "Remember him. I wanted to call him Tom, after my Granddad.")
Marie had kept that promise diligently, even on those occasions which had threatened to be less than stellar. Like her American Indian ancestors (she'd done DNA research which proved it), she had sworn it on her own blood, making it even more of a binding vow than it would have been.
"I know," he replied gently, and embraced her. She accepted it from the man she trusted more than any other. She knew he had no designs on her body whatsoever.
Not, she thought impishly, that she would refuse him if he did...
"I promise I'll be no harder or softer on you than on any other rookie," he vowed.
Marie giggled, no longer quite sober. "So I am for it, am I?"
They laughed together.
That night, both Tom and Rhiannon congratulated her anew...in bed. As Marie and Rhiannon settled happily into a 69, with Tom taking Marie from behind, Yvonne called sleepily from the second bedroom, "Get a room, you three! Oh, wait, you did! Never mind, fuck away!"
Laughing kindly, they did. As Marie climaxed, from Rhiannon's gentle tongue and Tom's equally gentle (if impressive!) cock, Julie's lovely face appeared in her mind, but with only love and gentle approval in her gorgeous china-blue eyes. For you, my eternal love, Marie thought as her two lovers brought her to the most gorgeous, gut-wrenching orgasm she'd ever had.
Just as well a contraceptive implant is standard issue for female Academy cadets, she thought as her climax reverberated explosively, or else I'd be getting pregnant now! I like kids, but I don't want any just yet!
She was completely unaware of the presence outside, picking up traces of their scents and identifying them. One was of the little one Young Blood had encountered and spared, the others unfamiliar. But the female's terror, Blood Fire knew, would be increased if others were to die first. He resolved to follow and slaughter one. Its scent was again unfamiliar, but he would follow it regardless. There was nowhere they could hide.
Then his sadistic streak came to the fore. He decided not to strike...yet. Instead he would worry the prey, frighten it.
And then he would kill.
Outside Bloomingdale's
As Marie falls asleep at 1:28 p.m. in the arms of her FWBs
Alice Greenwood, the oldest of Marie's friends, was making her way home when she heard the sound.
At first it didn't really register; she was lost in thought, reminiscing fondly about Tom and the others. Ooh, they were so naughty, talking about sex all the time - Alice's mother, so strait-laced that the Academy had almost been a pleasure compared to home, would not have approved.
Let alone Tom, Marie and Rhiannon not just talking about sex but constantly doing it, she giggled to herself. To a girl from the Bible Belt it was a revelation that sex wasn't just for having babies, it was fun, too. But they were dear friends and she wished them well. But how did a threesome actually work? Did they take turns or something?
But, she chuckled to herself, the very last person she could ask would be Rhiannon - she was so uninhibited and fun-loving she would doubtless go into deeper and more graphic detail than Alice wanted, and she might even have an orgasm in telling it. Rhiannon, bless her, was on a hair-trigger; just talking about sex, even indirectly, got her in the mood.
Then the sound registered. An odd rattle, like castanets. She looked all around, but could see nothing.
Some instinct made her look up. For an instant something flashed across her vision, but it was gone quickly. If it had existed at all - Christ, it was hot tonight, the heat could make you see anything, she thought.
Exactly as Blood Fire planned.
I have its scent. It will never escape now.
A Unit officer to the core, Alice remembered her training: if you think you're being followed, you probably are. Assume you are and act accordingly. So she drew her Taser and said calmly, still looking around and above, "Base, this is Officer 03-1R checking in. I may have someone following me. Who's closest?"
Base answered, "Sandford here, Alice. Can you see anything?"
"Uh, that's a neg. I just heard something weird, not sure what."
"Remember your training. Do not take chances. Okay, Jerry's en route, ETA two-minus. Hold pos and keep watch."
"Copy," Alice nodded, and soon Jerry arrived in his car.
"Okay, rookie?"
Alice tried her best not to be annoyed at a fellow officer. She was a rookie. Okay, she'd slogged through 3 years of Academy training. But she remembered what an instructor had said: "It's like driving. You only really start to learn after you pass your test."
So she only nodded and said, "Yes, sir. I thought I heard and saw something. As per training I called for backup, JIC."
"Dead right, too," he nodded.
Then followed one of life's tragedies. Had she said that she'd seen something like a heat shimmer, Jerry would have been alerted and called for multiple backup. It might have made all the difference, then or later. But as she was unsure of what she saw, or if she even had seen anything, she didn't mention it.
"Might've been the heat," she winced, fanning herself; even in her ArmorLite™ uniform which normally coped well with heat, she was sweltering. "God, I want to strip down to my bra and panties, but I know it's against Unit regs, even on a night like this."
"Plus you'd stop traffic," he grinned, complimenting her - and carefully not mentioning her gorgeous 36Ds. He was pretty much a boob guy, which made his marriage to Candy, a 32B, all the more mysterious (unless you knew how warm she was and how cuddly she could be). "All quiet now?"
She listened keenly, but heard nothing. "All quiet, sir." Then she too grinned. "Go feed your kids."
Jerry chuckled and drove off. She relaxed, and remembered one particular class in their first year...
The Unit Academy
Tuesday 26th October, 2027
...when Rhiannon had bought a Magic Bullet vibrator and had inserted it into her vagina before class; whilst the instructor had been wittering on about proper datawork, she was sitting there in the throes of sexual ecstasy. She only stopped when the instructor reached a particularly boring part and Rhiannon hadn't been able to stop herself squeaking as she came.
The instructor turned, startled. "What -?" Unfortunately for Rhiannon she'd been an instructor for 20 years at the NYPD, so she'd been around and knew what was what. She therefore knew the sound of a woman trying - and failing - to conceal the fact that she'd climaxed. Slowly, hands on hips, she walked to the back of the class. Uh-oh, the cadets thought, correctly.
"Cadet Bonaventure," Phyllis LaForge began slowly, dangerously, "either I am imagining things, or you have just had a quiet but not so secret orgasm. My RAQ is extremely high, so I don't imagine things. Thus by process of elimination you just came. Don't deny it," she added sharply, "I'm not the old fuddy-duddy cadets see me as - I know damn well what a restrained orgasm sounds like.
"The rumour mill says you are uninhibited at best...and a randy shameless tart at worst, not unlike Bo in Lost Girl. Let me guess: a Magic Bullet?" It wasn't like Rhiannon to blush...except when she was caught out. "And right now it's in your cunt?" She smirked at the shocked looks. "Oh, we oldies can swear, you know, except that ‛cunt' is barely a swearword, derived as it is from Cunina, the Roman goddess who protects sleeping infants. It means all-knowing, all-powerful. Hardly an expletive at all, is it?
"Ever since Y: The Last Man was published, and before, to some degree, when a woman, I forget her name, actually showed off her cervix to anyone who wanted to look, women all over the world are proudly beginning to reclaim the word, after centuries of distasteful male expletives regarding female genitalia - ‛snatch', ‛twat', ‛minge', ‛fuck hole', ‛fuck slit' and the like. As a veteran of the feminist movement, I for one wholeheartedly approve of this new attitude. Even prepubescent girls are describing their cunts as cunts now, and quite right too IMO.
"It's your CUNT, ladies. Own it. Enjoy the power it gives you. Be proud of it. Don't call it your vajayjay, shades of Elliot Reid, or your foof, as in Can I Give My Husband Back? - stop beating about the - pubic? - bush and call it a cunt, as Lucy Callaghan did!
"Now, if I were to break several indecency laws, not to mention Unit regulations, and use a speculum on your cunt, would I find a miniature vibrator in there? Switched on? Well, Cadet, would I? Are you in fact wearing panties? I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't. Randy bitches seldom do."
"Fifth Amendment," Rhiannon managed, murmuring.
LaForge snorted. "I often wonder why the Senate bothered with that one - half the time, just invoking it is an admission of guilt. So. You are attempting to distract yourself from my lecture - about a subject that may one day save someone's life - and mostly succeeding, as well as going commando. Certainly there are few experiences which will distract a woman more than coming from a vibrator inside her cunt." Then she surprised everyone:
"Been there, done that - they've been on the market for decades. I had one in my teens. Had a lot of fun with it. Still do, actually." Then, to their surprise, she turned gentle. "I don't blame you. It's so easy to get carried away by your horny nature when you're young, isn't it? Plus you're cheeky enough - and brave enough - to have an orgasm in public, shades of When Harry Met Sally. There are times, I know, when you feel you need an orgasm. Believe it or not, Rhiannon, I do understand. We're only human.
"Got some huevos on you, girl," she nodded, "coming in class. It shows a very healthy attitude towards sex. In any context but the scholastic, I approve. Except that the knowledge of datawork might just save your life one day. I assure you I am not exaggerating." She explained. The cadets were awed, but attentive.
And Rhiannon actually looked ashamed. "I...I didn't think of that," she whispered.
LaForge nodded. "I know, else you wouldn't be using a Magic Bullet to distract yourself. But do you see now why this stuff, boring as I admit it is, is vital to you as potential Unit officers?" The cadets nodded. "Do you see it, Rhiannon?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. Won't happen again." She looked properly contrite.
"Better not," LaForge advised, "knowing and following proper procedure really can save your life in, say, a biohazard situation."
Rhiannon asked hopefully, "So I'm not in trouble? We're just women together?"
The instructor smiled slowly, evilly. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. Eight screens' worth on proper biohazard procedure by Thursday, Cadets...except you, Bonaventure - you get 12. Plus you present yours to the class." Now she looked stern. "Unlike most women I don't get uptight during my period, I get mellow instead. Lucky bit of timing for you - I'm letting you off lightly. This once. Next time I come down hard on you. Got it?"
The cadet blushed and nodded. Phyllis LaForge was easygoing - but this did not mean cadets could get away with anything. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Class dismissed." The cadets hurried out to their next class, while LaForge prepared for the next one. None of the cadets noticed her saucy smile. Randy bitch. Daring, too. Just like me at her age. She delved into a pocket...which held a remote control for a Magic Bullet, currently set at low stimulation. Lucky they have individual frequencies, she thought amusedly, else our randy little redhead would be coming involuntarily!
With an impish smile she turned it up a notch and sighed with pleasure as it obediently vibrated inside her wet vagina; she shuddered and came. She made sure to turn it off before the next class arrived - wouldn't do for them to see their instructor coming whilst she lectured them.
Oh, she'd enjoy it - like Rhiannon (or so rumour had it), she liked being watched during sex - but being exposed as a hypocrite would undermine her relationship with her cadets. It was vital to maintain a barrier between them, else nothing could be taught or learned. If they didn't learn, it could kill them - and she would have failed as a teacher. Fuck that.
She'd regretted the hypocritical necessity of disciplining Cadet Bonaventure; she approved wholeheartedly of an open, honest attitude to sex. If it were up to her, Sex Ed in high school and college would include hard-core porn (pictures and MPEGs or similar), if not live sex shows with both real couples and prostitutes with clients, plus practical demonstrations of things like condoms, coils, sex toys and the proper way for a woman to shave her cunt - even whips, handcuffs etc.
Four years on, she was well-known in the BDSM community as a sub and occasional dom who really, really enjoyed pain, even blood. She encouraged her lesbian lovers to hurt her, and loved every moment of it.
Spanking, too - in her dom mode she'd always loved it when a girl's bare naked ass turned pink on being spanked. She and Jocelyn had once gone on a pub crawl together, and the latter had drunkenly confessed that Candy White's cute, shapely little ass did just that.
Phyllis's apartment
A month ago
"I'm fucking Candy White," Jocelyn told her. They were both in Phyllis's apartment, both lying on the couch, the remnants of a bottle of JD shared between them; both were taking the slutty option of drinking straight from the bottle. "Spanking her, too. Her cute, shapely little ass goes pink."
"I know," Phyllis nodded. "Kind of an open secret. Even her husband knows. He doesn't mind, he knows Candy is a free spirit. Does her cunt taste good? Ooh, I love that word. Cunt. Love it."
"Phyllis, her twat tastes fucking delicious," Jocelyn purred, licking her lips. "Honey and salt at the same time. Can't get enough of her twat. You like ‛cunt', I like ‛twat'. There's just something about Anglo-Saxon obscenities that turns me on, big time. I fucking love ‛fuck', too. Fuck. So sexual."
The instructor chuckled. "You realise we're acing the Bechdel Test?"
"The fuck's that?"
"You're mainly a lesbian, well-educated, and you haven't heard of the Bechdel Test?" Phyllis asked with mild incredulity.
"Stop being so smug," Jocelyn scowled, "and tell me."
"Sherman, set the Way-Back Machine -"
"Another reference I don't recognise."
Phyllis swatted her, laughing. "Later. The Bechdel Test is named after Alison Bechdel, who did a comic strip, Dykes To Watch Out For, with two lesbians deciding on a film. One tells the other that she only watches films that have three criteria: they have at least two women; the women talk to each other; and they talk about anything other than men."
"Hmm," Jocelyn smiled, "we're women," she kissed Phyllis, "we are talking, and other than that brief mention of Jerry, yeah, no men in this conversation. Yeah, I was saying: Candy has a really tasty cunt. I'd bottle her scent and taste if I could."
"Mmm. What does your cunt taste like, fuck toy?" Phyllis dared. As long-standing friends, each often sexually insulted the other, neither taking their shared obscenities seriously.
(Author's Note: This time I am not censoring the lesbian sex - or the BDSM aspects. Deal! 😋)
"Lezzie, are we?" Jocelyn teased.
"Not as such. Open to options, like you, you shameless whore," Phyllis returned, and stuck her tongue into Jocelyn's mouth, groping her ass.
"Dirty bitch, more like," Jocelyn told her, reciprocating by squeezing her breast. "With a soaking wet twat, I bet. I hope."
"Guilty as charged," Phyllis admitted, giving her another deliberately wet and sloppy French kiss. Both were soon naked. While Jocelyn was an uninhibited sensualist, she did trim her twat hair into a neat triangle. Phyllis, to her excitement, did not. By the look and feel of it, Jocelyn marvelled, Phyllis had never shaved her twat. Her bikini line was completely untrimmed, with her pubic hair growing on her upper thighs, too, and even her happy trail on her belly was intact.
"And I thought I was a rebel," Jocelyn complimented her. "Do you shave your armpits?"
"Nope," Phyllis grinned, raising her arms. "Razors? What the fuck are they?" Her black armpit hair was indeed showing, thick and lovely; Jocelyn stroked and kissed them, and Phyllis purred in her turn.
"Is this the time to mention the health benefits?" Jocelyn quipped.
"Such as: despite myths to the contrary, they don't add to B.O.?" Phyllis quipped back.
"That plus their role as a buffer to prevent chafing, and their role in capturing scent...and," she added more seriously now, "yours is delicious."
"Thank you. It's so good to be about to fuck with a woman who likes women as women, not as some airbrushed, neat little girlish strumpet." She took Jocelyn's face in her hands and asked soberly, "Please be honest with me: drunk or not, do you like my armpits hairy, Jocelyn? And sweaty?"
"Absolutely," Jocelyn breathed. "I often think of asking Candy to stop shaving. They make you look even more womanly and mature. Anyone about to fuck you will know you're a woman. The only females who should have hairless armpits IMO are prepubescent girls." She kissed the hair in each armpit again and licked each, tasting and loving the sweat.
"Mmm, don't stop," Phyllis entreated her.
"You hadn't any panties on," Jocelyn noted, sucking on the woman's hard nipple.
"I often don't if I think - or hope - I'm gonna get some action. Hey, you weren't wearing any either."
"Never do, except on my period. That's a week away."
"Don't you worry about smelling of snatch during work hours? Especially if you wank at work, which I bet you do?"
Jocelyn shrugged. "One advantage of working Autopsy: very few disturbances. If I want to smell of twat, I do."
"Good for you," Phyllis applauded, licking Jocelyn's wet lips. "Now gimme that tongue, you slut." She did. "Lemme fuck and spank and suck you like I just got out of prison."
"That's what I do to Candy," Jocelyn leered. "Hey...I have sadistic tendencies, Phyllis. So I want to hurt you. Do you like pain?"
Phyllis was as much of a masochist as Jocelyn was a sadist. To a lesser but still delicious extent, so was Candy.
"Yes."
"Then I'll hurt you."
"Do it. Hurt me."
Jocelyn slapped her. Phyllis shuddered sensually, Her cunt was indeed wet, as she showed by spreading her labia. Jocelyn accepted the invitation and slid two fingers into Phyllis's eager vulva.
"Again," Phyllis husked. "God, I love you groping my wet cunt. My wet twat, as you put it."
This time Jocelyn slapped her harder while still groping her twat, then backhanded her - but with the same precision and care as she applied to Candy's naked body.
"Is there blood? Hit me again if there isn't."
Now Jocelyn's nipples were hard. She'd split her partner's lip. "Yes."
Phyllis pressed closer to Jocelyn, offering her bleeding lip. "Lick it. Taste my blood. Enjoy it."
Jocelyn did so, and Phyllis moaned with pleasure. "We're a couple of perverts, aren't we?"
"Totally." Slap! "Like those pervert girls, almost a cult, who used to cut each other and taste each other's blood."
"I want to try that," Phyllis said, "purely as a donor. Of the blood - total recipient of the pain, ooh."
Slap! "Pervert."
"I am. I admit it." Slap! "I'm proud of it."
Slap! "I'm treating you like that nearly naked MILF in House of 1000 Corpses."
Whack! "Except this pain is real. Delicious."
Backhand! "What would your cadets think if they could see you now?"
"Most likely, ‛Hit her harder, bitch!'" Phyllis managed through tears of pain and ecstasy.
Harder backhand! "Would they join in? Fucking you? Hitting you?"
"Both - Rhiannon would, anyway. I admit I'm a taskmaster."
Whack! "Do they like it?"
"God, I hope so."
Slap! "Do they hate you?"
"No," Phyllis protested. "I love them. I'd hate to see them hurt."
Slap! "Did you like that?"
"Loved it."
Slap! "That?"
"Hit me," Phyllis begged throatily, her nipples hard as diamond.
Harder slap! Jocelyn forced her fingers deeper into Phyllis's twat. "That?"
"Yes! Yes!"
Hard backhand, to burst Phyllis's nose! Now she was fisting Phyllis. "That?"
"Oh, God, YES!" Phyllis cried passionately, writhing on the end of Jocelyn's arm with her entire hand in her partner's vagina. It hurt deliciously.
Jocelyn demanded confirmation, her cunt dripping. "Does your twat hurt?!"
"YES! MORE! PLEASE, MORE!" Jocelyn twisted her hand and used her nails on/in Phyllis's vagina; she screamed her pleasure.
Their French kiss was almost savage, nearly biting each other. Each squeezed one of the other's breasts hard enough to bruise. In fact Jocelyn pressed hard with her fingernails, drawing more blood, and Phyllis climaxed hard when she saw it. "Lick me!" she screamed as she came, shuddering. "Lick my blood! Taste it! Be my fucking vampire!"
Now Jocelyn was sweating and panting in excitement.
Even Candy, bless her perverted little heart and exquisite-tasting twat, never went this far. "I want to cut you," she rasped. "Somewhere it won't show." She was enunciating her desires purely to excite Phyllis.
"Yes!"
Like Kelly, Jocelyn followed Gibbs' rule: Always carry a knife. She delved into her back pocket and found her penknife. The blade was bright and razor-sharp, lovingly kept that way. "Cut your tits!"
"Yes! Yes!" Phyllis cried, delighting in the way the edge split the light.
"Cut 'em deep enough to see the breast fat!"
"Do it!" Phyllis begged, offering both breasts to her.
"Make your fucking blood FLOW! I'LL DRINK IT!"
"YES! PLEASE, YES!"
With no ceremony, Jocelyn sliced two inches along and into each breast. As the yellow fat did indeed barely but clearly show, Phyllis shrieked in a combination of agony and ecstasy.
(Ginny Briggs, her next-doorneighbour, awoke suddenly and thought: What the fuck are those dykes doing to each other?! And...are they enjoying it? Fuck, she realised on seeing her own hard nipples and wet cunt - Ginny usually slept naked - I'm excited, too! Go for it, you pervs - whatever the fuck ‛it' is!)
They spent the rest of the night caressing each other's tongues, wanking each other hard with the empty bottle, fucking, licking each other's sweat and spanking, until both passed out, arms and legs a-tangle.
They woke up in the morning naked in each other's bruised arms, stinking of cunt, sweat and whisky, with dried blood on Jocelyn's face. They took turns throwing up. They fucked in the shower and had a huge breakfast which made them both feel better. Then they fucked again...and, over coffee, they resolved never to mention their drunken session of sex and violence outside of Jocelyn's apartment for the sake of their professional careers. Before then, Jocelyn had something to say and do.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," Jocelyn apologised. "I have some gel here," she added, "courtesy of the Zhejiang University School of Medicine." She looked guilty. "Truth is, that's the only reason I cut you as deeply as I did: because I knew the gel would heal you. I...I'm sorry."
But Phyllis dismissed this with a sensual kiss. "Don't be. I invited it. I liked it. You didn't go too far."
"A part of me wanted to," the forensic scientist admitted, near tears.
"You didn't," the instructor told her firmly.
In a small voice Jocelyn admitted, "This might hurt as it heals."
Phyllis only shrugged. "Let it. Again, I invited it, Jocelyn. You only did what I wanted. What do psychologists call it? Cognitive dissonance?"
"That's right," Jocelyn murmured. "My desire to...to hurt you, stacked against my guilt for hurting you. I felt the same way when I nearly sold a holo of Candy to Kink after I beat her. I enjoyed doing it to her, but I felt guilty about the idea of having it displayed without her permission."
Gently Phyllis took Jocelyn's face in her hands. "Stop it. I agree, that would've been awful. But you didn't do it."
"I repented by getting myself whipped by a real sadist. I almost sold my lover out."
"But you didn't," Phyllis soothed. "In the same way, you didn't cause me any lasting or serious harm - and certainly nothing I didn't invite and even beg for." She looked rueful. "We really were a pair of perverts, weren't we?"
"I was, anyway."
As softly as she could, Phyllis kissed her. "Jocelyn, please stop. If you were a pervert for taking my blood, I was just as much of a pervert for giving it, wasn't I? And I don't feel guilty about it. I enjoyed it." She kissed Jocelyn again. "I know you did, too. No harm done. I'll heal, won't I?"
Jocelyn gathered an ample dab of the gel on her first two fingers. "Yeah. Again, this may hurt. I apologise in adva -"
The rest was lost to Phyllis's third kiss. "Any pain I suffer, I accept. I asked for it. Please heal me."
Nodding, Jocelyn gently applied the gel, gathered from her Unit medkit. Phyllis winced briefly, but Jocelyn, intent on her healing, didn't notice. The gel, tweaked by Jocelyn and a Chinese biochemist, seemed to soak into the dried blood as if feeding on it. With amazing speed the two cuts sealed up, healing rapidly. In three minutes there weren't even scars; the tweak included cloned fibronectin, a foetal scaffold protein.
"There," Phyllis remarked, pleased, as she touched her breasts where the cuts had been. "As pristine as ever."
"As beautiful as ever," Jocelyn countered, kissing each breast, then each nipple.
"Ooh," Phyllis kidded, "much more of that and I might start getting ideas."
"You're not really a lesbian, are you?"
"No," the instructor shook her head, "just open to options, as I said." She held Jocelyn's green eyes with her own, stormy grey. "And you are a pleasure of an option, whether you're fucking me or hurting me. FWBs?" she offered.
"Okay," Jocelyn smiled, and they shared a gentle but passionate French kiss.
And that was their last word on the subject...then, and always. Jocelyn never again hurt Phyllis so much, and Phyllis never asked her to.
Both always enjoyed the sexual thrill from the memory, though.
Phyllis was mildly envious that Jocelyn got the opportunity to spank Candy; she'd like to do that, too. Ah well, a woman can dream. Ooh, I'd love to chastise Rhiannon by spanking her instead of giving her extra homework - she has a beautiful ass as well. I bet it looks good turning pink. I bet she likes it - I bet she comes, even.
Maybe I'll fantasise about spanking Rhiannon, she's sexually gorgeous. Taking a belt to her bare ass, even. Ooh. With an effort she got a grip; it wasn't proper for cadets to see her with hard nipples and a wanton sexual flush to her cheeks and neck. While it was perfectly legal to picture her cadets in sexual contexts, and she could explain it away with ease, it wasn't morally right to do so.
"Now, was that (i.e. blowing away a fellow Gremlin) civilised? No, clearly not. Fun, but in no sense civilised," the Brain Gremlin had confessed in Gremlins 2, which she'd loved as a kid. As an adult, she knew what he'd meant.
Sex, however, was one thing. Survival was another. Being a cop, even a Unit cop, was dangerous by definition. She prayed every year that she was succeeding in teaching that to her cadets.
As for Jocelyn, she met Ginny on the landing, getting her milk, and greeted her politely; she had on a tank top and skimpy shorts, and looked pretty. "Hi, Ginny. Um...I guess you heard some of our goings-on last night."
Ginny chuckled. "Hard not to, the way you bitches were screamin'!"
Jocelyn winced. Her perversions aside, she'd always tried, really tried, to be a good neighbour. Ginny was a nice kid who didn't deserve to be awakened by two dyke perverts, especially when one was cutting the other and the other was screaming in ecstasy. "I'm sorry about that. I -"
To her surprise, Ginny laughed. "Are you kiddin'? Most fun I've had in years! In fact," she sobered, "can I, uh, be honest with you?"
Relieved that her neighbour wasn't offended, Jocelyn assured her, "Absolutely confidential, I swear on my Oath."
"Yeah, you're a doctor, ain't cha," Ginny mused.
"Forensic scientist," Jocelyn corrected mildly, "but I am an M.D., so yes."
"Well, I...I've been kinda wonderin' about myself for a year or so...wonderin' if I...like girls. Don't tell my folks," she added hurriedly, "they never understand my life choices, never even wanted me to leave home, so if I tell 'em their kid might be a lezzie, they will freak big-time!"
Jocelyn smiled gently. "Ginny, not a word to anyone, I swear. May I give you some advice? I know where you're coming from, 'cause I've licked a few slits in my time. Try Henrietta Hudson and the Cubbyhole, for a start," she suggested. "Talk to the bartender or the manager, explain you're a baby dyke. That's a lesbian who's just starting out, or isn't sure, or both," she elaborated. "Or if you're too shy, try the Samaritans, or NYC Counselling.
"I promise they won't judge, or question. They'll help you. But lesbians are even more accepted now than they were when I was a kid your age," she smiled. "One of our guys is gay. We don't care. If he screws up, his being queer as a nine-buck note won't figure into it. I'm not saying it doesn't matter, Ginny. I'm not dismissing this, I know it's important to you. But honestly, it's much less of a problem now than it used to be. So go for it. You've nothing to lose. Maybe everything to gain.
"They're not all butch wrestler types who don't shave or bathe," she went on. "I have an FWB who, trust me, is absolutely stunning, a real cutie...and she loves being spanked. Takes all sorts." She moved closer and embraced Ginny in a purely non-sexual way. "As for your parents, if you are gay...it's up to you when, or if, you tell them. It's your life, Ginny. It's your choice." Then she looked impish. "It's your twat."
They giggled together, Ginny relaxing. "If there's one thing I've never been," she chuckled, "it's shy!" Her smile turned fond. "Thanks, Doc."
"Please call me Jocelyn," the older woman invited.
"Okay, Jocelyn," Ginny nodded. "And you already know I'm Ginny."
"Is that short for Virginia?" Jocelyn asked...somehow knowing it wasn't.
"No...Ginevra," Ginny answered, rolling her eyes.
Jocelyn chuckled. "Spot the Harry Potter fan. Mom or Dad?"
"Both," Ginny sighed.
"Ooh, they must have it bad."
"I grew up on it. I watched the Goddamn Sorcerer's Stone at age two. My Dad plays Quidditch, or tries to. Mom has a Hufflepuff uniform. I'm not even a redhead. Go figure."
"I feel your pain," Jocelyn sympathised. "Could've been worse, though."
"How?"
"You could've been called Sybil," Jocelyn impishly pointed out. "Or Hermione. Or, God forbid, Millicent."
At that, Ginny laughed. "Yeah, I got off lightly!" She hugged Jocelyn. "Thanks for the advice. And the sympathy. And," she added keenly, "the bar names."
As she walked, she had no idea of what was above her, and she would've seen nothing if she'd looked. This one was only indirectly related to his prey - but it had an associated scent. Therefore it was a target.
When the time was right, if he decided it, then it would die.