Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Turmoil 14: Amends

by Ludwig

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© Copyright 2011 - Ludwig - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/ff; FF; latex; bagged; susp; gasmask; bond; breathplay; toys; mast; oral; sex; climax; cons; X

continued from part 13

Chapter 14: Amends

The cat lay on top of the large fridge, listening cautiously as she made herself as flat and inconspicuous as possible. It was a warm and nice place to rest, and she didn’t want anyone to come after her with a broom and chuck her out in the storm. They had been nice to her here so far, but she had learnt the hard way that people could act very strange sometimes. Now, there was no sign of anyone near where she was. Perhaps she would go for a little sightseeing around the house a bit later. The one without hair had given her better food than she’d had anywhere else around this place, and he didn’t seem to mind having her around. Tonight, he had let her in from the rain. He might still be somewhere in here, and perhaps there would be more to eat. 

No one entering the house via the kitchen would have suspected anything out of the ordinary happening there. It was quiet, neat and tidy, very homely and genuinely rustic. Should that person continue towards the door below the stairs leading to the adjacent building and go through that, he or she would assume that a television set was turned on somewhere. There were faint voices, or rather a voice coming from the far end of the corridor. It would almost certainly sound to him or her as just another TV cook going on about a dish that no one in their right mind never would dare trying in their own kitchen, but if the person would care to listen a bit closer, that someone would be in for a little surprise.  


“I’m sure that you’ve never heard of this kind of equipment before,” Alex said cheerfully, connecting the long corrugated tube to the metal box. She tapped it with her fingers like a salesperson eager to make a killing, smelling a gullible punter. “I believe it once was meant to be used in hospitals like many other interesting pieces here, but it has quite like the rest of it been slightly altered to fit other purposes. It’s a breathing machine, sweetie.”

Niamh wasn’t all that surprised to hear that. Mildly amused, she watched Alex fiddling with the box, and Theresa, looking like it was the first time she’d seen the thing. The only effect it had on Niamh now was that her breathing felt a tad more restricted, since the air had to pass through the box as well as the long tubes leading to her gas mask. That would soon change, and probably for the worse, she reckoned. She didn’t really like the look of that thing, but she was going to find out what it was for whether she wanted it or not.

“Not like a heart- lung machine or an old iron lung; oh no.” Alex went on, “this doesn’t really assist you as such, but you’ll see. I think you’ll enjoy it. I will, for sure. Ready?”

Now, Niamh found out that non-verbal communication was equally as hard as trying to make herself understood by using words, when she was totally encased. It wasn’t easy to shake her head with the hood firmly tucked under the collar belt, which in turn made her neck rather rigid. She opted for a loud, groaning no, but knew that it was meaningless.

Alex pretended to pick something from the corner of her mouth, acting like a bored, brooding Games mistress with something up her sleeve. She picked up the remote to the vibrator again, but didn’t adjust the setting. Niamh had endured a constant bumblebee-humming for at least fifteen minutes, and it was driving her mad. It was just enough to make her simmer a little, but nothing more than that.

“Think fast, Terry! Choose between A or B, and give me a number between ten and... let’s say sixty, for now.”

Theresa looked rather forlorn in her chair, with the sleek rubber dress hiked up over her hips showing off every nook and cranny, and pink rope marks here and there all over her skin. With her hands tied behind her back and her feet secured to the chair, she looked as she was going to end up face first on the floor any minute. She jumped when she was spoken to.

“Er...” she croaked, “B...and te...twenty!”

“And there’s a lolly for you in the basket. Thank you. B, was it. Twen-ty.” Alex added, turning one of the knobs on the box. She flipped a little switch, and a red, blinking dot appeared next to it. “Here goes, then!”

All of a sudden, the softly sticky bumblebee forgot all about niceties, and Niamh felt the sharp increase in intensity like a prickly wave of heat between her legs. Gratefully, she began swaying a little inside the bag to make the vibe move around. Alex moved closer, looking her right in the eye. The light reflected in her blue shirt created tiny haloes in the lenses. There was a series of barely noticeable bleeps from the machine followed by a louder click, and Alex raised her eyebrows. Oh, fuck.

She instinctively knew that the air was shut off before she tried to breathe in again, gave Alex an angry look and got a brief smile in return. Another swift touch on the remote made her belly contract, and she moaned involuntarily, letting a lot of precious air out of the mask. One failed attempt to breathe was closely followed by another, and Niamh felt the anxiety grow inside her. She had been caught on the exhale again, and that made it difficult to tough it out for long. Did ‘twenty’ have anything to do with seconds? She hoped so. A snap from a butterfly valveconfirmed that, and Niamh sucked hungrily for air.  

After what felt like only a very short moment, the box clicked again. This time, she was a bit more prepared. Alex had taken station behind Theresa, who looked absolutely bewildered, but deeply fascinated. By all means, go ahead and look. You won’t get me that easily.

“Don’t try to fight it, dear.” Alex hummed.

What, then?  Twenty seconds was easy as pie. Especially when there was a little help to make her feel really yummy in her special places. Another snap, and fresh air rushed down her lungs. She was feeling a bit ambivalent about this. On one hand, she was rather fed up with being asphyxiated for tonight. She wanted some time alone with Alex, the bondage bag and perhaps a few more toys, hot water and shower gel. Something to eat, too. On the other hand, she wondered how it would be like to use the box together with the rest of the gear in the cabinet.

Click. Oh, this was definitely feeling better now. The gas mask was a good choice; it didn’t squash her face when she tried to suck in the tiny amount of air still left in the system when the valve shut. Niamh felt her blood rush through her every limb as her heart responded, taking up the challenge. The vibe caressed her like a cloud of bubbles, and something inside her was slowly getting ready to burst. Not yet, she felt, but soon. Defiantly, she stared at the other two watching her like some kind of novelty attraction. Theresa appeared to be unable to close her mouth, looking like someone had hit her in the back of her head.

Snap. She had to slow her breathing down. It was too shallow. Still, there was no reason to freak out. It was just a matter of focusing. Three, four..

“Would you care to make a bet on how long she’ll last before she loses it, Terry?”

Alex jeering voice nearly made Niamh furious, and she was close to forgetting to keep track of time. When the valve clicked shut again she’d reached twelve, which meant that she had roughly ten seconds to breathe since she didn’t rely on her own sense of counting. It was hard to keep a clear head when it got this intense. How the hell was she supposed to stay cool when that blue jelly almost chewed her raw down there? God!

“Oh, look!” Alex exulted, “Wasn’t that a little one right there?”

“Dunno, ma’am.”

Niamh filled her lungs with an ear-deafening hiss, determined to hold back what was already starting to happen. She hated how her body constantly betrayed her and gave in for nothing. If it hadn’t been for the belt straps, she would have flopped down on the floor already since her legs were turning into overcooked pasta.

“Do you feel like touching yourself again, Terry dear?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

“Not yet. Let’s get this over with first.”

Oh yeah, let’s. For fuck’s sake. Niamh tried not to whine when she heard the click again. She watched Alex pick up the remote, but nothing seemed to happen when she flicked her thumb across it.

“Let’s raise the ante while we’re at it. Watch this.”

Not knowing what to expect, Niamh continued her struggle to stay in control, arching her back to relieve the tension from her chest. The gas mask felt considerably tighter by now, and there was a nasty taste of reflux in the back of her mouth as she used her whole upper body to get some air into her lungs. Ow? The mist inside her head cleared in an instant when a sudden electric pulse shot through her swollen sex. There was another one, and then the whole vibe seemed to discharge repeatedly like an electric eel. A haunting groan escaped her when the air was back again.

There was no way of resisting the combined torment, and the surge of oxygen triggered her off before she even had a chance to brace herself. It felt like a series of little lightning bolts rushing through her, quite unlike the big blow she feared would make her faint. Through the moist plastic lenses, she looked into a pair of dark wells carefully watching her fall deeper into the blackness. By the moment the machine kicked in again, Niamh could barely keep her eyes open. To her surprise, Alex turned the air back on manually almost instantly, holding up the BVM bag for her to watch. She was gently squeezing it, intentionally slow, to reduce the air flow just enough to make Niamh react.

This did nothing to stop her from constantly being shaken by the ripples passing through her, and she barely heard Alex voice when she spoke to her.

“Let me see it, sweetie. You can’t hold on forever.”

A single streak of lucid thought hit her mind. Alex was expecting something that was already happening to her. What am I holding on to?

“Oh, so close...”

Then, Alex did precisely what Niamh had guessed she would do; and the bag dropped from her hands, hanging from the corrugated tube like a nifty purse over her right arm. Within only a few seconds, the gas mask collapsed onto Niamh’s face as she desperately struggled to keep the black spots away. The onset of a strange, fizzy tranquillity rolling over her meant that she was already very near the point where she would stop trying to breathe. It was a waste of effort to keep her eyes open, since they refused to cooperate. When the jackhammer pounding in her chest so hard it almost seemed to serve as an alarm gradually slowed down, something finally happened. It began somewhere below her knees and flooded upwards, which in a peculiar- perhaps subconscious- way delighted her because it was like stepping into a Jacuzzi, having the bubbling, hot water flowing over you. Fresh air seeped into her nose and mouth, inciting her to draw a lungful. A familiar, soft punch in her belly pressed it out again in a guttural moan. It wasn’t so much an orgasm as a violent protest from her own body against being treated like this. Then, all at once, it was over after a final chilling wave. No more bubbles.

“Wakker worden, schat.”  Alex sounded slightly flustered and very excited. “Oh, Christ. You okay? Here, let me help you with that.”

The heavy smell of wet rubber was nearly overwhelming once Alex had taken off the gas mask and pulled the hood off her head. That was the only thing keeping Niamh from landing cold turkey in the real world again, which she always hated. That, and the sight of an aroused Alex wetting her lips before her. God, how she adored those lips, and the nipples stiff as hazelnuts under the blue rubber. The eyes. She sobbed a little out of sheer relief.

“That didn’t seem like a false alarm.” Alex whispered in her ear. A few strands of wet hair got caught between her lips. “Was it that good? It looked like a wonderful trip to me.”

“You’ll...” Niamh rasped, her mouth feeling like a bag of wood shavings, “I don’t think I can take much more now. You nearly... Oh, shit.”

“We’ll get you downstairs for a quick shower, and then you can relax. I won’t turn you inside out tonight, dear. That can wait. First, I’m very much looking forward to a little tasty morsel of something warm.” Alex brushed the hair away from Niamh’s face, holding her chin up. “I have been promised omelette with truffles, pancetta...Well, you’ll see. How’s that for supper?”


The shower she was promised wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. Theresa had to roll her down the stairs, which was a bit of an adventure even if the sack truck actually could manage the steps with its three-wheeled pivot axle. It didn’t make the whole thing lighter or easier to steer, and Niamh couldn’t keep silent when it felt like she was tipping over. Alex had another good laugh at that. Then, she was rolled into what was more like a cubicle than a room adjacent to the old workshop, where different items were still hanging from hooks in the ceiling.

“This is where we used to do the messy stuff.” Theresa puffed, giving the truck a good push over the plastic threshold. The wheels weren’t made for obstacles like that.

“As in not naughty, I gather.” Alex put in, appropriately drily. She appeared to have found her comedy button again, Niamh thought.

“Nah, but it depends how you look at things, I think. Colouring, chlorination- I wouldn’t go near that stuff again, it fuckin’ reeks- I mean, we had glues and solvents sitting here but that...”  

“I thought you loved wearing masks.”

“Not if it means losing my hair, I don’t. André bunged a ton of leather goods in here to get rid of the pool smell, and it did the trick. Now there’s just a slight hint of horse.”

With a final grunt, Theresa parked Niamh next to a tin basin mounted on the wall. On the floor next to it was a large plastic bucket with what looked like a ridiculously overgrown loofah swimming in the foam on top. Alex rolled out a long, yellow rubber hose on the floor and pulled a thin chain leading to water pipes under the ceiling. It looked like there had been an emergency shower or something like it.

“It must’ve been very warm in that heavy, tight sack, don’t you think?” Alex said, almost judiciously. Niamh knew what that could mean in terms of more nasty surprises. “Awfully sweaty. So even if you look ab-so-lutely scrumptious in that, I think It’ll have to come off... Theresa.”


No, please don’t tell me you fell for that siren shit; she’s still in action. Don’t you ever learn? Niamh bit her lip and winced. She didn’t know what would happen to her if she cracked up now, but she just had to watch this. Slowly, Theresa turned round, dropping the sponge into the bucket.

“Off with the dress. Now.”

Theresa obeyed, looking more than a little thrown. The dress came off with a greasily rustling sound. Although it was made of fairly lightweight latex, it had left deep pressure marks on her behind where it had been rolled up. It looked like she had received a good hiding, and Alex seemed to find that a bit amusing.

“Now, the sponge. Do it properly. It’s only shampoo in that water, nothing else.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Everywhere, Terry. Not just the legs and arms. Go on.”

Niamh tried to merge with the background as she relaxed and enjoyed the show. Although she was feeling worn out, there was still a faint tingle inside her. Her sex was still twitching slightly, as if her labia were trying to kiss the jelly toy back to life. She wondered if it would be possible for her to spend a night in a bag like this, imagining herself squirming like a silkworm under Alex’ playful touch. She would smell like old feet and fishermen’s macs in the morning, though.

“That will do. Now, I’d like you to show your appreciation.”

“What?” Theresa, dripping wet and covered in suds, stopped scrubbing herself.

“Do I really have to spell everything out?” Alex lowered her voice. “It would be nice for a change if you didn’t act deaf. Sponge in the bucket.”

Theresa dipped it carefully in the bucket, spilling a little water on the floor. Niamh could almost feel the tension, not to mention the sigh Alex let out.

“Masturbate, Terry.”

Almost mechanically, she began stroking herself. Niamh stirred inside the bag but didn’t receive more than an absent look from Alex, who seemed utterly nonchalant. This usually meant an upcoming tirade or unexpected move. It’s a bit like chess. Pity I don’t play better; can’t even beat myself.

“No, not like that! Quit wasting my time and do it like you should. Show me your lovely little breasts. Touch them. That’s the spirit.”

It was like flipping a switch, Niamh thought, to see Theresa suddenly go into her usual bonkers mode again. God, she even sounded wet where she stood, swaying gently from her own touch. The only annoying thing about it was that her eyes kept drifting towards her, and Niamh simply couldn’t look away. Not just like that.

“I’m sure you sent all those little gifts to her, so you could fantasize about her donning and wearing them, enjoying them the way they were meant for. You probably...” Alex paused, giving Niamh a little glint, “You probably caressed your finest pieces of latex and hoped that she would enjoy the touch as much as you did, perhaps even imagining you being there with her, touching her? Tut-tut.”

“Oh, yes!” Theresa snorted violently, breathing like a furnace. In less than a few minutes, the wet room had changed from being a chemical cubicle into an old asylum cell. Niamh was astonished with how fast Alex could turn Theresa into a ticking time bomb.

“Was it her lovely face you dreamed of when you touched yourself, hm? Did the thought of her wearing your rubber make you orgasmic?”

“Oo, m’God...”

She really was a sight for sore eyes, but Niamh wondered how she managed to keep her feet when she went on like that. It was almost frightening to be able to see how swollen she was from seven feet away. Her fingers were dancing over her sensitive areas like butterflies, and she was twitching uncontrollably.

“I presume that you enjoyed your own work in private as well, love. More than once, you dressed up in rubber that reminded you of her and masturbated to orgasm. Isn’t that true?”

Theresa was unable to respond, staggering and swaying after nearly treading in the bucket. She bit down hard to try to keep silent, but didn’t do very well. By now, she was working away at herself with both hands.

“Does it feel like you want to come now?”


The very instant she started quivering, Alex doused Theresa in cold water from the hose. It wasn’t a gentle little squirt, and Alex knew where to aim. Screaming like someone had bitten her, Theresa slammed against the back wall and slid down on the floor. Strangely enough, she didn’t move her hands a single inch despite the shock. Niamh, again, wondered how she was wired when they built her, and watched her sprawling on the floor. The water jet hit her crotch and splashed all over her, and she repeated the uncanny death throes from the loft as she started coming.

Alex turned the water off and enjoyed the view. It seemed as if she thought that Theresa’s climax looked at least a bit painful, too, but unlike Niamh she didn’t show a single sign of pity. Instead, her gleaming gaze suggested that she actually was pretty satisfied with the outcome. A faint trace of suppressed lust flickered past in her eyes, but that was all.

“You won’t leave here until we’re done. There are towels by the door, if I’m not mistaken. Get yourself clean and dry now, Terry. No sticky fingers, not a hint of sweat, remember that.”


She looks like someone’s punched a hole in her. Niamh looked away from Theresa and shivered when Alex turned her attention to her, but now, her face seemed to be all sunshine again. A strange, sudden lapse of thought made Niamh think of her as carrying a big baking sheet full of currant buns wearing that face. Why was she getting so bloody hungry again?

“I’ll let you out now, so you can have a real shower.” Alex cooed, waving the hose. “This is just for cleaning up the bag a little, until André gets busy later. There’s not an awful lot of work for him tonight, which I think he’ll appreciate.”

“Can I help him?” Niamh asked, almost whispering.

“Why don’t you ask him? I’m sure he could use someone to talk him through it.”

“Wait. Can you get some hot water into that hose?”

“Ye-ess?” Alex stopped unbuckling the thick belts. “I think that’ll take a bit of turning the handle with the red dot on. Shouldn’t be too difficult. Why?”

“Fill the bag.”

“With you inside it? Hah. Well, all rightie.”

“And some shampoo if you have it. Quite a lot of it, actually.”

The heart-warming giggle from Alex made her drift into thinking about buns again, but that was a question for later. Now, it was bath time for her.


André carefully put down another saucer with some chicken liver and toast soaked in milk on the floor. He wondered how the feline creature currently squinting contentedly at him could survive in the rough outdoors this time of year, being that picky about how she wanted her liver served. Perhaps, he thought, it was just the fact that old habits die hard. Just like cats.

“’Bin, chat dingue; tu veux rester la nuit, nan?” He whispered. “Well, there’s only one person here who might have something against that, you know.” There was what sounded like a short comment from below. “Yes, you know who I mean.”

He had things to do. Madame and the girls had left their little playground and were probably causing each other trouble elsewhere by now, he thought, so he might just as well try to do something about the mess under the shoe rack by the kitchen entrance. The whole yard was rapidly turning into a field of freezing muck, and some of it was bound to end up on his floor. A quick once-over with the mop should do the trick if he used really hot water. He picked up the emptied saucer, watched the cat curl up on the little rug in front of the cooker and sauntered off to the old boiler room to fetch a mop and bucket.


“This is when people would expect you to say something like ‘wheee’, or laugh hysterically, sweetie.”

Alex was standing beside Niamh, balancing on the sack truck as the water quickly filled the bag. It wasn’t entirely watertight, and in quite a few places there were sporadic squirts as the water moved around with Niamh’s careful movements. It reached her knees now, but didn’t fill out the bag the way she had imagined. The thick belts created partitions, which filled up to a certain level before spilling over to the next above. It would make her look like M. Bibendum’s black Michelin sister if it was topped up the way she wanted it, but it felt pretty good. Alex had put the nozzle in her cleavage, which wasn’t a nice thing at first since it nearly burned her skin, but the water had run in mysterious ways inside her nifty bondage suit and now she was very pleased with the sensation. It was like sitting under a nice little waterfall.

“Aaah. It’s wicked! Why didn’t you think of this?”

“I thought of other things to do to you while you were playing mummy up there, and not a lot of them involved any cosseting, I can tell you that much.” Alex laughed. “Why the strained look, dear?”

“I think the blob just kissed me goodbye. The pants feel like bloomers now. Where’s the shampoo, by the way?”

“For a mummy, you’re quite demanding. I’ll make a little mental note of that till later.”

A faint scent of hemp and a wonderful, foamy softness enveloped her body when Alex squeezed a good dollop of the shampoo into the sack, and Niamh gurgled happily as the lather rose up to her neck. Alex made things worse by using her hands to push the water further up with slow, massaging movements. This was far better than being hosed off, sprayed with cold water where it felt the most and being half drowned just for fun. Niamh still remembered the fear of getting her gas mask full of water when Alex played with her in the cellar, and the stinging water jets on her thighs. Terry was lucky to get away with only a minute or so.

“You can put her in a gallery like that.” Theresa added from the doorway. She looked like she was celebrating Towel Day in advance, Niamh thought. Well, layering probably meant safety if ma’am would have any more ideas. “That’s an installation if I ever saw one. Fountain Orgasm, or Pneu à Plat, p’raps.”

“Schatrijk, Terry. It is quite leaky, though, sweetie. There’s water all over the floor.”

“Don’t care. Luvverly.”

“A lot of water. Terry, does this drain still work?”


One of the most depressing sights of all possible ones must be the one of a yarn mop used a few too many times, André thought. He plonked the large, plastic bucket under the hot water tap and started filling it, wondering where he put the Ajax bottle.

There was a sudden cry of sheer surprise and agony from somewhere near the old workshop. André sighed and tried not to think of what was happening over there. He thought he could hear some malicious laughter as well, and didn’t really know if it was a good sign or not. The cat was peering into the closet, giving him a questioning look.

“Don’t ask me. I wouldn’t go and look, if I were you.”  


 The four people around the table all had a strange look to them, one might say ‘recently tickled’ and not be too far from it. Perhaps it was the wine that did the trick, or the fact that they went into great detail about the night’s events. The cat was back up on a safe altitude again, intentionally paying them as little attention as physically possible. It was no use trying Fluffy Kitten Mode on the new arrivals, at least not on the tall one with the big hair, so curling up on a warm spot seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.

Niamh still felt a little embarrassed about the little cubicle debacle, and Theresa just wouldn’t let it go. It wasn’t that much fun to sit opposite to an imp wrapped in a lush dressing gown, even though her tummy finally had stopped bugging her about food, which was quite a relief. Half a tumbler of Irish peat-smoky whiskey and more than one glass of Andre´s blood-coloured unlabeled also proved to be smoothing things over rather well. It felt like someone had installed central heating in her.

Alex looked very pleased with the evening, smattering away with André in her French, seething with innuendoes. Niamh thought it looked like she was talking to the little pot-bellied chef with a silly goatee hiding inside the lean legion fellow sitting like a happy king facing his queen. It felt a bit strange to sit like a rag doll in a borrowed kimono, facing a towel freak, when those two got along like a house on fire looking absolutely smashing. It was amazing how a bit of cuisine could make her charm emerge like that, and she wondered if she had to learn to cook for real to see that happening more often. It was that, or performing small miracles in –and out of- bed. Probably both, considering how heavenly he could make things taste, the wiry bastard. How did Terry manage to keep slim? All right, this was cooking for the occasion, but she doubted that his everyday grub wasn’t much worse.

Niamh still could smell polish on her fingers after buffing up Alex before supper. Her gloves were off, since she thought they were a nuisance at the table when handling the cutlery and all that, but she was still in her outfit of choice. The soft light in the kitchen reflected nicely in her blouse, making the intensely blue rubber look like fluid paint. Niamh discovered a tiny speck of something right below her left breast, and she had to fight the instinct to clean it up with her tongue. I think I have room for some pudding.  



Niamh woke up from her fuzzy slumber, feeling her body finally coming to terms with all that had happened to it during the evening. The bed was cradling her like a cloud, and she felt reluctant to return to the room with walls and a ceiling.

“What time is it?” Yes, that’s always a good question, isn’t it?

“Never too late to repent, they say.” Alex voice trailed along with the sound of boots treading the carpeted floor, and the unmistakable rustling sound of her trousers. “Nineish, I think. Perhaps elevenish.”

Niamh rubbed her face. A hand appeared from around the corner, holding something vaguely familiar. There was no mistake about what was going on, and she groaned pleadingly.

“Oh, don’t give me that nonsense.” Alex entered the room and leaned against the wall next to the bed. “You weren’t too tired to get all excited when I sponged you down in the shower earlier.”

Niamh eyed the droopy thing in her hand. It wasn’t the blue fake prick Theresa had used, but a similar black one attached to a pair of latex panties. It glistened wet with lubricant, but there was nothing inviting about it.

“Please, no. You know that it hurts really bad if... I really can’t do it, sorry.” Niamh sighed. “Don’t. Shove it up my toot if you like, but...”

“No, no. I wasn’t going to jump you wielding this, silly. Wouldn’t even think of it. You’ll wear them.”


“I’ll pull them over your face if you continue making such a damn fuss.”

A bit hesitant about leaving the soft bed, Niamh sat up, put her feet through the leg openings and pulled the pants up carefully. They slid on without problem, even if the dildo was quite big and heavy. She couldn’t resist playing with it while watching Alex trying to peel her trousers off. It made a funny smacking sound when she slapped it against her thighs, and she wondered how anyone would be able to steer the wobbly thing right in a dark room. It was almost like those stupid clowns you were supposed to hit, just to see them bounce back at you, she thought as she jabbed at the dildo with her fists. You can use it for fencing, for educational purposes and as a handy potato masher.

“Come over here,” she whispered to Alex. “Let me help you with those.”

The skin underneath the rubber jeans felt wet and slippery against her fingers, and the heady aroma rising from it revealed that Alex had been aroused for the good part of the whole evening. To Niamh, it had exactly the same effect as the little surprise in the surgical mask. She let her tongue play a little over the cheeks, kissing the back of the thighs quickly as she pulled the trousers all the way down to the ankles. Alex laughed silently, but let her have her way.

“Let’s see if you taste as good as you smell.” Niamh mumbled, trying to turn Alex around.

“Cheeky, are we? I think I’ll like that.”

Burying her face in the dewy crevice, she inhaled deeply and moved her tongue around the neatly trimmed triangle of hair into the slippery, pulsating folds of skin. Now, she fully understood why Alex had gone through such trouble with getting her scent into the mask. It went straight to her head and seemed to black out any unnecessary activity, making her focused like a bird of prey. Alex sighed heavily and ran her hands through Niamh’s hair, lifting her left leg to place her foot on the edge of the mattress, making it easier for Niamh to reach.

She kept silent and allowed Niamh to explore her carefully. The floorboards creaked slightly under her weight as she shifted, but every other sound seemed hushed and distant. Niamh pressed her tongue encouragingly against the throbbing, marble-like clit, and Alex withdrew instantly.

“Easy, girl.”

“I want you.” Niamh grunted. “Want to fuck you.”

There was a throaty laugh, and she was pushed down on the bed.

“You sound like a boy, sweetie.” Alex retorted. “Then act like one. Play with it.”

Niamh willingly stroked the knobbly shaft up and down without much expertise. She felt a bit silly, but at the same time, it was quite interesting to be able to feel something like that jutting out from her. Did the boys in the garden feel the same strange detachment when they felt a strange hand stroking them for the first time? She watched Alex starting to unbutton the shirt, and raised a finger.

“Keep it on for me, please. It’s...”


“Leave it. How do you want me?”

“Raw.” Alex laughed. “No, let’s try it like this first.”

She climbed on top of Niamh, and lowered herself down behind the saluting dildo at first, brushing it against her mons. The innocent look in her face made Niamh think about how it must have been for that first fortunate one to end up in bed with her. O, Jesus. If she had been a boy, she would have creamed all over herself already. When the black shaft slowly disappeared into Alex, it was hard not to imagine that Theresa actually was on to something, because she thought she could actually feel the strong vaginal muscles contract around the thing, refusing to let it slip out too easily. Alex settled slowly, wiggling a little to feel the dildo inside her, and seemed very content with that. She disrobed Niamh with what seemed like a distant-minded, playful touch, moving her hands over her exposed skin.

“Not too bad. Hah. Quite nice, actually.”

“It feels like I’m inside you.” Niamh croaked, trying to respond by bucking her hips a little. It was hard to move much at all, and Alex pinned her down when she squirmed.

“You always are. This time it’s just by means of fake extensions... And a big one, at that. Wooh. Keep still, please. I’m not really used to getting my tummy prodded from the inside, dear.”

“Want to make you come.”

“Sshh. You’ll have your chance.” Alex swayed, working the dildo with her muscles. “This is good exercise. Meanwhile, I can let you in on a little secret.”   

“What? Oh, shit, I swear I’m going to explode soon...”

“Wasn’t it you who asked about the little music score up there the other day? Well?”

“Yeah, what about it? Jesus and Mary Carpenter! Not now, please.”

“Never ever tell anyone interested in making things a little more difficult for you when it comes to playing games what you really hate. Especially regarding food, certain things that can be done to you and music.”

“I thought...she like that?”

“Not really.” Alex increased the tempo, creating an interesting, sucking noise. “André just happened to mention that she’d been stuck in a lift in Reading for two hours once. The lights had gone, but not the muzak in the speakers. Those things tend to stick to you, you know.”

“That was...a fucking nasty thing to do. Oh, fff...”

“Shame on me, then. I thought it was fun. She got off on it, so where’s the harm in that?”

She suddenly leaned forward and kissed Niamh, who tried to respond without hiccupping out of pure surprise. Fingers pinched her nipples, her earlobes and then her nose, stopping her from breathing through it. Oh, again, then. She relaxed and let Alex have her way. Now, she performed some strange kind of resuscitation, only letting her exhale pass on through to Niamh. It didn’t matter much to her, since she barely got any air anyway because of Alex pressing down on her.

“Now...” Alex panted, letting go of her. “Now it’s your turn to do your thing.”

“Get a pair of handcuffs and I’ll give it to you on all fours.”

“Now, that’s your bollocks doing the talking. Oh, ho.”

“And a bag. I’ll be nice. It won’t take long.”

“Have you grown a pair doing the thinking for you, too? A little more romantic, if you please, dear. I’m beginning to feel the years slowing me down here.”

Alex rolled over on her back, like a lioness with her paws at the ready. Niamh sprang into action and nearly bounced on her knees over the bed towards Alex, who started giggling again.

“What?” Niamh couldn’t resist joining in. “Any complaints?”

“That thing really fits you! I should have picked a less wobbly one, though. A bit smaller. Can you draw a circle in the air?” Alex laughed. “Oh, don’t you frown on me like that. Get your chromosomes straight and come here now.”

“Not that funny, it ain’t.” Niamh grunted. “Remember that I’m not used to aiming these bastards. I might make a mistake.”

“So be it, then. Very gently now, just like you always do. It’s been a while for me, too. Make it last. Laat me je nou voelen in mij. “


Somehow, there was an air of secrecy about their lovemaking, which it indeed was, Niamh thought. Not just a simple bout of passionate sex, obnoxiously loud and defying geometry, no matter how pleasing that could be. No, this felt discreet, almost tentative and quite unusual in a very definite sense. It brought back memories from when she sat under a blanket in her small bed and tried to understand what was happening to her body.

It wasn’t much of a room; more like a storage space below the stairs. The blanket provided that little extra privacy she so desperately needed sometimes. It had a certain smell that no detergent ever managed to hide, and she could still feel it tickle her nostrils now. She wasn’t alone under it anymore. The dark glint that made her forget the world had seen her pass through to the other side and return again, and she had promised herself not to look away ever again.

She was a wonderful sight, Niamh thought. Peacefully rolling under her, following her every movement with a quizzically amused look in her eyes, Alex enjoyed her considerate attention. Niamh was surprised with how easy her body adjusted itself to this new possibility of pleasuring Alex, and she felt more agile than she thought was possible after a day like this. Her fingers wandered furtively over the buttons on the shirt and started undoing them from the top, very slowly. The vague taste of buttermilk with a salty tinge of rubber was already on her tongue as she licked her lips, moving her fingertips under the thin, black bra.

This was going to take time. They had plenty of it.



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