Girlfriend Chapter 5: Pierced
You’re walking on a road. The road is simple stone brick, not wide enough for a car. The sky above you is orange-ish pink. In front of you, the horizon bends up and climbs a hill.
You hear the clicking of your steps as you walk. You look down and see white heels and a pale pink dress. Dangling from your hair you can see ribbons. You reach a hand up. Your hair is long and wavy. The ribbons tie pigtails that frame your head. You like pigtails. You like ribbons. You smile.
On each side of the road is a field of sunflowers that goes on forever. You feel the presence of someone beside you. It’s Carl. He’s cute. His hair is long and straight, touching the small of his back. You stop, and he stops with you. You grab a sunflower and put it in his hair. He smiles. He twirls and you both giggle. His shirt is paisley patterned, and his skinny jeans show off his ass.
You take his hand and lead him into the flowers. He lays down beneath you. You take off his shirt and see his chest. It’s smooth and soft. As your hands run over him, each breast swells under your touch, rounding like clay. He lets out a moan.
You pull down his skirt and see his pubes waxed to a landing strip. He tries to cover it and blushes. You laugh. He laughs with you. You fall into his arms and kiss his breasts, suckling on his nipples. You switch back and forth between each breast and feel him squirm under your touch. You nibble on the left nipple and laugh while you do. You switch to the right nipple and slide your hand over his tiny dick. You stroke it, but it won’t get hard. You switch back to the left nipple and feel the cold metallic taste of his piercing. You go back to the right nipple, and again, find the pleasant taste of his piercing.
You hear something behind you. Water is running. You turn around and see Karla in the kitchen. She’s washing the dishes in nothing but her skirt. You enjoy the sunlight dancing over her large breasts, the light catching and glimmering off her nipple piercings. She stops when she sees you. You peel off your skirt and see you’re wet. You’re dripping.
Then Karla puts her tongue up your wet pussy. You hold her head and guide her. Her hands roam over your body, reach up, and find your ribbons. She twirls them through her fingers. You appreciate her ass from below you and the feel of her long hair as it brushes your leg.
I wake up wet. This is happening more often. I don’t remember the dreams anymore. They aren’t as vivid or powerful as the one in the room with black sheets and orange walls and the letters on my chest that I can’t see and can’t ignore. They are hazy and vague. Last night was something pink and soft. Whatever it was, my panties are soaked. Each day starts with me masturbating in the shower now. It’s the only way to keep all this aching horniness under control.
It’s been almost a week since The Dinner Party from Hell. My voice has recovered, but my pride hasn’t. The night felt like a breakup. Maria chose Reyna, or whoever that person is now inhabiting Maria’s body. I lost her. And I almost lost Carl. He’s been quiet since the dinner, but he hasn’t shown any concerning behavior. As far as I can tell, I saved him before any brainwashing became permanent.
Looking back now, the whole thing was stupid. I had no idea what I was thinking. I walked right into Reyna’s seat of power and tried to defy her, while I couldn’t talk. I also put Carl at risk, and almost lost him. I need to be smarter if I want to save Maria. I can’t charge in there and challenge Reyna to a battle of will. I must be clever and careful. She must have a weakness.
My greatest hope is to work with numbers. I don’t think Reyna can influence multiple people at once. Every time I’ve seen her do it, with June and Carl, she had to focus on them. If I had numbers on my side, I could overwhelm her. I need allies. Jace is out. Maybe I could explain the situation to Carl, but I don’t trust him right now.
The workday is long. It’s been this way all week. Everything feels like a waste of time, like a distraction from what I should really be doing. If I have to read another romance novel about an incredibly buff man getting every heroine wet and weak in the knees, I’m going to scream.
Around 4 PM, I can’t take it anymore, and I head outside. At first, it’s just a walk; I need to clear my head. I leave the apartment building and wind my way around the sidewalk. After a block or so, I’m past the residential buildings and near a collection of restaurants and bars. I’m not hungry and don’t want to waste too much time. I spend an hour in one of the quieter bars. I try to relax, but my drink doesn’t do anything for me. I still can’t focus.
I head home anxious about the evening. I don’t have any plans for dinner. I don’t even know what we have in our refrigerator or pantry that I could cook. I could always make spaghetti. Again. Lord knows Carl never gets tired of the stuff.
When I walk in my apartment, I freeze. The lights are off, but from around the corner I can see a faint light. Music, something classical, is playing. I can smell something savory as well. Cheese? Salt? I’m not sure.
After my dreams and the dinner party, I’m on edge to anything strange happening. I look around for something to defend myself with and arm myself with an umbrella. I creep around the corner and see our shabby dining room table covered in rose petals and two tall white candles. A meal is on the table, but the plates are covered. There, at the end of the table, is Carl, smiling. Beautiful Carl.
I feel my insides warm and my skin flush. Carl stands when he sees me.
“Surprise,” he says calmly in his own adorable way with a shrug.
“You did all this?” I ask. He nods. “For me?” He keeps nodding.
“Well, technically,” he adds, “I didn’t cook. I picked it up from that restaurant we love downtown.” He steps towards me, takes the umbrella out of my hand, throws it into the other room, and takes both of my hands. “But trust me, you did not want me cooking.” He smiles, and I lean in to kiss his goofy face. It’s been so long since he did something romantic for me.
“I really appreciate this,” I say between kisses.
“I just wanted to do something for you,” he says. “I know you’ve been stressed lately, especially since the dinner at Reyna’s.”
I go to my chair and Carl pulls it out for me. I smile at him, and he pushes it in. “My lady,” he says as he does it.
“Why thank you,” I say. “What brought this about?”
“I realized what an idiot I was at the dinner. I was rude and ignorant. I wanted to try again to redeem myself. This time, without the fire.”
He serves me an aperitif of port, which I can enjoy this time. I don’t ask how much this all cost. I’m sure we can’t afford it, but I appreciate Carl’s gesture immensely. We need a chance to redo the catastrophe of last week. He reveals a small salad, nothing fancy. He asks me about work. I tell him that these cheesy romance novels are killing me. We eat the main course. He suggests trying a new publishing agency, one that doesn’t specialize in romance. He’s supportive. He’s kind. He’s charming. He’s a whole new man.
We’re eating dessert, an addictive tiramisu, and into a few glasses of wine, when he starts to get steamy.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed the meal,” he says.
“I have. I really have. This has been sweet.”
“Did I earn any rewards, my lady?”
“Perhaps you did, but let me finish this tiramisu first. It’s proper foreplay to tantalize the lady’s palate.”
“By all means, take your time,” he says with deference.
“I’m truly grateful for this, Carl. I think I needed to feel fancy without the stain of Reyna on it.”
He chuckles and adds, “Absolutely. That was crazy.” He pauses for a second, his eyebrows furrow as he tries to process something. “I was wondering …”
“How did Maria meet her? It doesn’t seem like they would be in the same social circles.”
I shrug. I don’t want to get into it about Reyna tonight.
“You have any idea where all that money came from?” asks Carl.
“None,” I say.
“Oh, well, okay,” he says, sounding disappointed. “I was just curious.”
“Yeah, I’m curious too,” I say. “But I’m not thinking of Reyna tonight. I’m thinking of us.”
“Yeah. Me too. I’m just making conversation.”
“Right.” Calm down, Sarah. Don’t be a bitch. He’s being sweet.
“Did you like the port?” he asks, sounding nervous now.
“I did. I’d never had port before.”
“I like it. It’s sweet, but not like a dessert wine sweet.”
“I agree. It’s refreshing.”
“It’s expensive too. I mean, not this stuff; this is the cheap stuff. But a lot of this is pricey.”
“It’s a nice treat every once in a while.”
“You know what else is a nice treat?” he asks, getting up from his seat and taking my hand. I shove the last bite of tiramisu in my mouth and follow him to the bedroom. There are rose petals leading the way and some candles lit. It’s beautiful, and I remember that, though Carl can be stereotypical guy sometimes, he does have this sweet feminine side that I love so much.
In front of the bed, he turns and kisses me passionately. I feel his fingers fumble for my shirt, and I help him take it off. He struggles with my pants, and again, I help him strip me. I peel his pants off. He kisses my neck hungrily, but it feels wet and sloppy. We’re practically teenagers again with our clumsiness. His pants get stuck around his feet, and he has to sit down to get them off.
When he stands up, he almost growls and takes me to the bed, climbing on top of me. I reach up for his tits, wanting to play with them, but he pins my hands behind me and leaves his shirt on. He starts to grind into me and gyrate, riding me cowgirl style. I try to grind with him, but our rhythm is off. I overpower him and roll, putting me on top. I’m disappointed to see that he’s not hard yet. I guess it’s fine because I’m not wet yet. I grab his hands and put them on my tits while I grind my pussy into his dick.
I start to moan, but I’m not feeling it. I know he likes it when I’m loud, and I hope I can get him hard so I can feel pressure on my clit. Maybe then I’ll get wet and we can get this over with. I see his hand snake down his side and reach for his ass. I stop riding him and lean back to see him start to finger his ass.
“Don’t stop. Keep riding me,” he moans while he fingers himself. I try to get back into it, but I’ve never seen him finger himself. I’m not really into anal, and as far as I know, Carl hasn’t been either. I don’t know where this is coming from, but if he gets hard, maybe he can finally fuck me.
“Yes,” he moans. “Please. Fuck me, fuck me in the ass, Reyna. Yes! Please! Fuck me, Reyna!” he shouts.
My whole body locks up. I climb off him and away from him as small spurts of pathetic cum from his limp dick coat his belly. It’s disgusting, one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen. He runs his hands over it, scooping the cum off his shirt into his mouth and moaning more. He pumps his hips, thrusting wildly in the air. I scamper to one of the corners of the room and look on in horror as Carl becomes nothing but a whimpering mess. In his desperation, I hear him calling out to Reyna again and again.
Something’s wrong. He’s still going, pumping his ass with his fingers, and thrusting his hips. “Carl?” I ask, worried. He responds with Reyna’s name again. I climb onto the bed and touch his leg gently. He doesn’t register my touch and keeps thrusting. “Carl?” I ask again. He’s somewhere else. His eyes are open, but they’re rolled to the back of his head. I bring my hand further up the leg and try to stop his thrusting.
Carl bolts upright and looks at me. But his eyes don’t see me, they see through me. Carl smiles like someone possessed and peels off his cum-covered shirt. There, I can see perfectly, are two recently pierced nipples. They’re still puffy and sore from the procedure.
I jump away from Carl like he’s a hot stove. Carl keeps his insane grin locked onto me and starts to flick his pierced and wounded nipples. He moans again, getting louder and calling out Reyna’s name. I get off the bed. Away from the bed. I run out of the room.
She’s here. She’s in there. She has him, and she’s there in my bedroom in my boyfriend and she’s coming for me and she’s coming for me and I’m not safe here. I’m not safe anywhere. I need to go. I need to leave. Need to run.
I open the door of the apartment and pause. Clothes. I need clothes. I can’t come back. I’ll never come back. I sprint into the apartment and go to my office. I grab my laptop and a bag. I head into the bedroom and make sure not to look at Carl. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see he’s playing with a limp dick. He’s found one of my vibrators and is fucking himself up the ass. I keep my head down and go to the dresser. I grab as many clothes as I think I can fit in the bag and head out. I get some clothes on and head out the door.
I hesitate. This is it. I can’t go back. Where would I go? I can’t go to Maria. I’m alone. Totally alone. I go back into the apartment and hear Carl shouting Reyna’s name. I can smell his cum from here. God, how many times has he cum? He’s never cum more than once with me. I push past the thought and grab my sweatshirt.
There, in the pocket, is June’s number.
June sent me her address. The neighborhood isn’t great. I should have guessed as much. I don’t think waitresses make much at cheap diners. I guess after being thrown out of Reyna’s estate, she can’t be doing well financially.
I look around at my car and the bag full of my only possessions. I guess she’s not the only one ruined by Reyna.
I take out my phone. The battery is almost dead. Shit. I left the charger at my old — no — Carl’s apartment. One thing at a time, Sarah. One thing at a time.
Me: I’m here.
June: k. Come on up. Door’s unlocked.
I get out of the car and head up to the apartment. It’s freezing outside, and all I have is my thin sweatshirt and yoga pants. I didn’t grab new panties and can feel the cold on my crotch. I look at the rundown building and filthy street June lives on, and all I can feel is shame. How did it get this far? How did I let this happen? Carl is gone. Jace is gone. Maria is probably gone, too. What do I do if June’s nipples are pierced? I have nowhere to go. I could find a hotel, I guess. I’ll figure it out.
But standing in the cold and barren street, seeing the prostitute on one corner and two guys I swear are dealing on another corner, I feel pathetic. No panties and a thin sweatshirt are the last straw. Reyna has taken the people I love, but I know, now, she’s trying to take my dignity. I’ll sleep in this sleazy apartment with June, and somehow, Reyna wins. This is all her plan. I’ve lost.
But I don’t need to quit. I underestimated her. I keep underestimating her. I’m going to be careful now. I’m not stupid. I know June could be a trap. I won’t let her in or let her get too close. Reyna can spy on me. June can report to her or try to seduce me. Fine. But every person she takes away from me is one less spy. I can start to prepare a comeback.
There is hope. I don’t think she’s taken Maria. She’s waiting. She needs me to participate somehow. Maria will be the final piece of humiliation Reyna has planned for me. I still have time. I can plan. I won’t underestimate her again.
But for now, it’s fucking freezing outside.
I go inside and find the staircase. June said it was the seventh floor. I look up the stairs and see the flickering fluorescent light above it. I’d rather not show up to June’s apartment sweating and panting. I look around for an elevator and find one hidden in the corner. The elevator is broken. Of course it is.
The climb gives me a chance to think. I need to handle June carefully. She may try to throw herself at me again (she sounded plenty eager on the phone). I don’t want to get swept up on that. The first thing I’ll need to do is make sure her nipples aren’t pierced. If they’re pierced, I leave.
I get to the seventh floor and look around. I see her apartment number and knock on the door.
“Come in,” says June from the other side of the door.
I open the door but it’s dark inside. Some candlelight flickers through the apartment. My first thought is that the power must be out. That must be why the elevator wasn’t working.
“June?” I ask the darkness.
“I’m here. One second.”
“Is the power out?”
“No,” she says. I see her form come into view through flowing candlelight. She’s in a lacy blue negligee, a cast on the hand Maria crushed, and nothing else. I can’t see if her nipples are pierced. “I wanted to surprise you.” June gets on her knees in front of me, offering herself to me.
I look around the room. Is this a trap? Did Reyna set this up? I walk past June and stumble around the apartment in the dark, stubbing my toes a few times.
“Is something wrong?” asks June.
“I’m making sure we’re alone,” I say calmly, not wanting to alarm her.
“I don’t have a roommate,” she calls after me.
“Oh, okay,” I say, but keep checking. I risk the last of my phone battery to use it as a flashlight. I look into the bedroom. She’s prepared it with more candlelight and a strap-on by the bed, but the room is empty. The bathroom is empty. The apartment is empty.
I come back and find that June hasn’t moved. Good girl. She’s on her knees, facing the front door.
“Satisfied?” she asks. There’s a hint of an attitude in her voice, and it strikes the coals of my temper.
“Shut up,” I hiss.
She goes rigid from the command, and then I see her lower half shiver. From the front, I can see the dark mark of the bruise on her face from my slap. She tried to cover it up, but I can see it. I reach out and touch it; she winces but doesn’t pull away.
“Show me your tits,” I order. Again, she straightens and shivers all in one motion. She starts carefully removing the negligee, trying to do a striptease. Impatient, I reach down and tear it from her hands and off her body.
Her tits are cute. The word bubbles up in my mind. Cute. They remind me of Maria’s: perky and small. The nipples turn up slightly chocolate chips, but they aren’t pierced. Good. A wave of relief washes over me. I sigh and let my posture sag. June must take it as attraction because she gives a smirk of satisfaction.
“Yes, Mistress?” she asks.
I feel the coals of my rage flare again. I pull back my hand to slap her, but she flinches violently. I pause, hand still held mid-air. She’s afraid of me. I look at the cast on her hand and the bruise on her face.
“I’m not your mistress,” I say. Her eyes look down. She’s disappointed. “I’m sorry,” I add. “I can’t be.”
“Okay …” she says. It’s pathetic. God, is everything about her always so pathetic?
I get down on my knees and lift her chin, looking her in the eye. “Hey, listen,” I say. She has such pretty eyes. I lean in and kiss her forehead. “I’m here, okay?” I kiss her forehead again and bring her to my chest. “I’m here, but I’m not her. Okay? I’m not her.” I feel her nod against my chest. I expect her to cry, but no sound comes. I pull her head back and look her in the eyes.
“You alright?” I ask.
“Don’t try to make me her, okay?”
She nods again, her eyes stay glued to the floor. I feel terrible for her. I don’t know what Reyna asked her to give up or what Reyna gave her. Does she still have her job at the diner? Does she have a job at all? I doubt it. Especially if this apartment is all she can afford.
I stand and look at her again and the torn negligee on the floor. Was she always this pathetic or did Reyna do this to her? She was flirting with me at the restaurant before Reyna showed up. Was she throwing herself at me? Was she always this desperate and needy? Did Reyna make her this way or just awaken the thing inside of her?
It doesn't’ matter. What matters is the girl in front of me. She needs me. Her life is spinning out of control, and she needs someone to control it. I understand that. My life is spinning out of control as well, and I wish someone would help me get a grip. But that person is me. I’m getting a grip. I’m going to control things now. Maybe June has never had that. Maybe she doesn’t have the strength. Maybe I’m the only one who can help her set things right for herself. It doesn’t matter if she could be a trap. She’s a person, a human, and Reyna has treated her like property. I can undo that. I can help.
“You need me, don’t you?” I ask.
“You need my strength?”
“Look at me, June.” She does. “You’re not a slut or a whore or anything like that. What Reyna said isn’t true.”
“But I moved in with her, a stranger, for sex. Who does that besides a slut?”
“It doesn’t matter. Listen to me. Reyna’s not here. She doesn’t matter.” I can see the confusion over her face. She can’t sort that out. Two ideas are still raging in her mind.
“You want me in charge?” I say forcefully.
“Then listen to me.”
“You are not a slut.”
Again, the confusion is plain on her face. I see her eyebrows furrow and nose scrunch as she tries to sort it out.
“Trust me. Am I in charge?”
“Do I think you’re a slut?”
“Then are you a slut?”
“No,” she says.
“That’s right,” I coo. I stroke her hair, like a cat. She seems to like it and relaxes. “You’re not a slut, June.” I can’t take away the term from her. It means too much, so I offer her a new one. “You’re a good girl.”
She emits something that sounds like a purr or moan from her throat.
“That’s right,” I say. “Good girls can be obedient. Good girls can serve. And you want to serve, don’t you?”
“That’s why you let me come here. That’s why you’re letting me take control of your apartment. You want to serve, isn’t that right?”
“Good girl,” I say. I hesitate. I know what she wants and what she imagines. Reyna has taken her down a dark path, and I don’t know if I can save her from her perversions. I can offer sweetness, though. I pull her up off her knees and look into her eyes. She’s scared; I am too.
I’ve never kissed a girl before. Once, when Maria and I were drunk, she jokingly suggested it, but that’s all. I stare at June’s lips. They look soft and inviting. They’re nothing like Carl’s. His were gruff and split. Her lips glisten and spread like flower buds. They look nice to kiss. My eyes run over her body. All of her looks nice to kiss. She’s soft and vulnerable. I imagine her skin tastes sweet compared to Carl’s salty. Her breasts are beautiful, though I wish they were fuller. I’ve never wished a woman’s figure were different, but I imagine that if her tits were bigger, I could get lost in them.
I pull June close to me. We let our lips hover only an inch from each other. I can taste her heavy breath on the air. My lips tingle in anticipation. I smile. She smiles. An easiness breaks over us, a playfulness, and I pull her in to me.
She tastes better than I could have imagined. Honey and milk flow over my tongue, awakening a hunger I never knew I had. A new dimension in me unfolds and blooms like a sunflower, arching towards the sun. June’s tongue, her soft and supple tongue, finds a new part of me, a room I never knew was in the house of my heart, and unlocks it. There, in that room, are pleasures I have never imagined. I can see it all now, female bodies folding and melting into each other. Soft skin pulled tight in pleasure and let loose in lust. I feel June pull me by the hand into that room, and I close the door behind us.
I open my eyes and see June’s look of devotion. I kiss her lightly again, and her look melts to that of a simple girl, a young girl, delighting in being kissed. She laughs again, and so do I. She grabs the back of my head and pulls me in for more. I start to try and peel my clothes off, but she stops me. She takes me by the hand to her bedroom, which she has prepared for a goddess. I see the strap-on ready for us, but I know I won’t use it tonight. Nothing tonight will be hard or firm. Everything will be soft and easy.
We fall onto the bed. June gets my clothes off and gives me a trail of kisses down my stomach and over my breasts. I laugh, and I feel her smile between kisses. Her kisses descend, getting closer and closer to my pussy, and I freeze. Carl rarely ate me out. Part of me knew this was coming when we came to the bedroom, but kissing a girl feels like a different category than having a girl eat me out.
I place my hands on her head and stop her. I feel my body go rigid. She looks up at me, confused, and I pull her closer to me. She crawls back up my body and snuggles with me, putting her head on my breasts.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“You could have fooled me,” she laughs.
“I know you want me to be strong and dominant and -”
“I want to be of service,” she purrs. I feel her hand glide over my thigh and two fingers tease my clit. I gasp. “Let me be of service.” Her fingers trace small circles over my clit. I feel heat surge through my pussy, followed by dampness. “Let me be a good girl,” she says with a desperate whine in her breathy whisper.
“Yes,” I say with a shudder. “Please.” I gasp as she swirls again. Each circle is lightning through my body. Each time she takes me deeper and deeper into that new room of my heart. The room where I am free; I am my truest self. “Do it,” I beg, but she doesn’t. Her fingers split the lips of my pussy, and I feel one finger slide inside me. I’m slick, and she starts to pump one finger while still twirling with her thumb over my clit. I try to push her further down my body, to guide her mouth to my clit, but she resists.
My back arches. I need her tongue on my clit. Why won’t she do it? She wants to. I know she wants to. I push again, but she resists. I feel my temper flare. I’m being vulnerable. This is my first time with a woman. I’m not in the mood for games. I know what I want, and I know she wants to give it to me. She should be between my legs, eating me out. That’s where she belongs.
“Get down there and lick my cunt,” I hiss.
She lets out a whimper of delight, and remarkably, she obeys.
That night, she obeys over and over again.