Chapter 6
Unfettered Philosophy and Power Trips

Bianca was sitting in her room, slowly getting a grip, when the intercom came on and a now familiar voice said, "Bianca? The Wench is done; she's going to need you to help clean her up and get her back to her quarters."

Dread slowed her response, but she made it to the wall panel and husked, "Okay."

"Hurry along, then." Charles sighed; the girl was going to need some fatherly advice, and he'd never been one. He walked over to where the Wench was still kneeling, exhausted, and ran his hand along the smooth curve of her back. "Why don't you lie down for a bit, Wench? Bianca's on the way to help."

The Wench collapsed in place, rolling onto her side. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. Her mouth hurt, her throat was sore, her knees were rug-burned, and her pussy was sore -- but she'd lost count of the orgasms she'd gotten from the yard boys. Add to that the fact that she'd largely succeeded in the purpose of the exercise, and it was a positive experience, all in all. The wooden floor of the porch was cool, and sleep beckoned.

Bianca arrived, and took in the state of her charge. "Is she okay?"

Charles nodded. "Yes, merely tired. I'm quite proud of her -- only the one accident!" He beamed a bit.

Bianca stood there, drawing invisible diagrams on the floor with her sneaker toe. "I, uhh..."

Charles cut her off. "You are young and you were inundated with something you'd had little exposure to. Your body reacted the way it was supposed to. Everybody understands."

"But, Pete!"

"Especially Pete. You aren't a little sweet on Pete, are you?" Charles teased gently.

Bianca's throat closed -- all she could manage was an embarrassed nod. Charles nodded. "I thought so. Well, you could do worse. But if your father catches him in a compromising position with you, the knife will come out. Pete isn't your age, either..."

"Boys my age are just that! Boys!" Bianca spat.

Charles blinked. "Well," he temporized, "most girls figure that they can mold a boy into something decent at that age. Some even succeed..." He paused, then said carefully, "Pete is a better choice for your first experience, but the age difference will matter to most people -- I wouldn't plan to bear his children. In fact, if you should mention this conversation to anyone, I'll deny it -- I can't be seen as encouraging you."

"Well," Bianca sighed, "God knows what he thinks of me now..."

"You made it clearly apparent that you are not a child, but a woman. He noticed." Charles retorted. "Other than that, well, being sexually responsive might be an embarrassment in the presence of other women, but to men it is a positive thing; basically, I'd say you put yourself on the map... Be sure to tell me if you receive unwanted advances -- Pete wasn't the only one to notice." He turned to regard the Wench. "Let's get a look at your patient."

The Wench was a mess; her sharp model's features were coated with goo that ran down her neck to her breasts. Stepping around the back side, Bianca discovered more goo oozing from her vulva. "Hey!"

Charles chuckled. "Someone didn't make it around front," he noted. "Things stayed pretty wild until almost everyone had gotten through round two. If you'd hung around, you'd have needed more relief."

Bianca looked at the mess. "I need to get out of my school clothes."

Charles nodded. The white blouse and plaid skirt weren't really up to the muck. "Hurry back. Make it something you can get wet -- you're going to have to bathe her." Bianca nodded and dashed off again. Charles watched her go, wishing he had the energy to bounce around that fast...

Charles stood over the Wench for about five minutes, which had to be a world record for changing clothes by a teenage girl -- especially since Bianca reappeared with a small basin and a couple of washrags. She was wearing jean shorts that weren't QUITE 'Daisy Dukes' and a swimsuit top that was meant to be demure -- but demure had to be difficult when you were carrying the firm round globes on your chest that Bianca was. 'Yes', Charles mused to himself, 'she's going to be a man-killer.'

Bianca knelt next to the Wench and began applying the washrag to her face. The Wench started and threw up her hands, but Bianca murmured, "Shhhh! I'm cleaning you up. It's my job, remember?"

"Ummmm, yeah. Okay." The Wench sighed and relaxed. Exhaustion had her in its grip, and Bianca's efforts were gentle. Bianca nudged her over onto her back and she rolled flat obligingly.

Charles grunted. "Okay, I'm leaving her to you. Get her into a shower, then into her cage -- but leave the door open. And make sure there isn't a lot of goo around here!" he admonished.

"Yes sir." Bianca returned her attention to the Wench, ignoring Charles' departing footsteps. As she worked on her neck and breasts, the Wench opened one eye and opined, "I made a spectacle of myself, didn't I?"

Bianca grinned. "I think that was the idea. How was it?"

"Tough at first. I enjoy giving blowjobs -- it's a service thing, and when I succeed, it's an accomplishment. But there was a deliberate roughness to these..." She mused a moment, enjoying the swipe of the rag on her left breast. "Of course, it was supposed to be, and that made success even sweeter... When Phillippe started fucking me, I was already primed, and the going got a LOT easier... I don't know HOW many times I came, and Pete..."

"Pete?" Bianca looked up from dabbing at the Wench's labia.

The Wench nodded. "That's Pete," she amplified, nodding toward her crotch. "I got a really big one and dragged him along before he could get out and run around." She eyed Bianca, "You weren't here?"

"No." It seemed that the answer was unnecessarily short, so Bianca added, "I... left."

"Well, there was a lot of wild shit going on. I'VE never done THAT, so I'm pretty sure YOU'VE never seen it. What happened? When did you go?"

"I was... in and out." Both women smiled at the inadvertent pun. "Scoot over -- I need to work on the floor." Bianca selected her original cleaning materials, the harsher detergents not meant for human use, and began swiping at the porch floor. After a moment, she continued, "I got hot right away, but watching Phillippe... fuck... you had me going nuts! Mister Charles sent me off for towels, so I stopped and rubbed myself off in the linen closet -- but it wasn't enough..." She dipped a sponge and went at the floorboards again. "When I got back, you had Ed in one end and Boris in the other. It was bad -- I couldn't handle it, so I went over and parked over that chair arm..." Musing, she got up and, taking the sponge, began to wipe the lounger arm. "It didn't work -- or maybe it did -- I don't know. I got really hot, and suddenly there was this hand on my shoulder, and I looked up and Pete..." Bianca blushed fire engine red. "I got a BIG one, and when I came back, I was draped all over him! So much for being quiet..." She wouldn't meet the Wench's eyes as she returned to collect the materials, tossing the contents of the basins over the porch rail. Piling the things beside the door, she came back to the Wench and extended an arm, "Let's get you inside."

The Wench took the arm, and leaned on Bianca to the door, but announced, "I'll help with these..." and collected some of the cleaning materials. The pair headed downstairs to the laundry, the Wench following Bianca who was more familiar with the layout. After dumping towels and other linens, the pair headed for the cleaning closet, where Bianca rinsed the various containers and put them away. The Wench, leaning against the wall, made the connection: "You got a thing for Pete?" Bianca's answer was in her eyes. "Well, you can't blame him for doing me -- it's what he was there for. Besides, there was this male ego thing going on..."

"I guess he's got a steady girlfriend, too," Bianca sighed.

"Um, well, if I remember right, it's not that big a thing," the Wench replied. "More a case of scratching each other's itches than anything else. And according to Pete, Amy isn't that particular... But, uh, you know, he's, well, a LOT older than you..."

"Yeah, but he's SO cute!" Bianca gushed. "Besides, in twenty years, no one would know the difference!" The pair headed off toward the Wench's quarters for the next phase, the Wench still walking a bit unsteadily.

"Honey, a guy as cute as he is ALWAYS has a woman -- well, at LEAST one. And while you're right -- even ten years from now it would be no big thing -- right now, it's robbing the cradle, and he could go to jail, if your daddy didn't get him first..."

"Oh, I know. I'd never be able to hold onto him. And the whole world would screech about how old I am -- but boys my age are SUCH idiots! Besides, I want it done right when the time comes -- I don't know anyone my age I could trust for that!"

The Wench stopped and turned to the young girl, leaning against the doorframe for support, but grabbing her by the arm and swinging her to around so their eyes could meet. "Honey, is that ALL you want? A good first time?"

Bianca looked defensive. "Well, a good first FEW times, maybe..."

"How few?"

Bianca grinned. "If it's as good as I think it is, as many as I can get!" The impish smile was replaced by a more serious look. "I know I'm just a kid, and I can't hold him. But it would sure be fun to try!"

The Wench chuckled and let go of Bianca's arm, sliding her arm up and around her shoulder as the pair resumed walking. "Don't underestimate yourself, Honey -- you're all woman. You'd be surprised what you can catch!"

The pair entered the bath off the Wench's quarters and got her into the shower, Bianca plopping on the toilet seat while the Wench cleaned herself. It was a quiet interlude, the Wench luxuriating in the feel of the water on her various sore spots and Bianca coming down from her part of the racy interlude that had preceded it. If this was the Wench's normal activity, this would be a tough week... Bianca gave voice to the query, "Is this kind of thing normal for you?"

The Wench pulled her face from under the spray and looked thoughtful. "I haven't been here long enough for there to be a 'normal', I don't think... That was the wildest thing I've ever done, in many ways. Master is kinky -- he likes humiliation, he likes to prove his control, and he's into producing pain, both to see if you can take it and to see if it excites you -- but he's mostly a solo act. So I've done stranger, but not more." She finished rinsing and stepped out to where Bianca had both her towel and another question ready.

"How did you get to be here, doing this?" Bianca asked, as she began rubbing the Wench's back while she collected a second towel for her hair.

"Um, do you mean was I always a slut?" the Wench retorted, then became thoughtful. "No, this is basically Master's doing. Up until a few weeks ago, I was a model. When I had a name, it was Felicia -- now it is whatever Master decides to call me." She worked quietly for a bit, while Bianca worked at her back, then deliberately spread her legs. Bianca took the hint and wiped her ass, then knelt to do both legs, both of them pretending to ignore the effects of working on the more intimate areas -- but Bianca was being too thorough for either of them not to be clear on the fact that she was being deliberately intimate. Having been waited out, the Wench continued, "I had hot and cold running men, but it was about getting them to spend money on me, not about sex. I was beautiful, and somewhat famous, and it was a privilege to be with me -- one that men paid for by buying me things and taking me places. Oh, I liked sex, and I had it occasionally, but there was some calculation to it -- would this rich guy buy me that? That kind of thing. Master was to be a long-term investment; you see, I had peaked, and demand was beginning to drop off, so I was looking for a more permanent source of supply for the good things in life."

The Wench turned around, and dared Bianca with her eyes to continue, her arms still up working her hair -- and Bianca took the dare, starting at her neck, and working down over her breasts and armpits. The Wench continued, "Master didn't play games. Suddenly, I was the supplicant, and HE was telling ME what I would do to secure my position. It was a new game for me, and I didn't understand the rules -- or maybe I didn't understand that there weren't any. Master demanded more and more of me, while waving the flag of my greed before me. One day, he called me into his office, where he was getting a blowjob from a woman that he identified as his ex-wife. I don't know if it was, but she just turned red and kept on sucking. I gather that it is a tactic Master uses to separate the sheep from the goats -- only someone with guts and real greed will hang around for the next step. But Master didn't realize that there is a third group -- women who WANT to be owned. I didn't know I was one such until I saw him exercise his control over her like that -- but I got hot flashes any time I thought about it."

Bianca was slowly working lower. The Wench once again assumed a spread stance, and Bianca knelt while working her way over her belly and hips. Bianca caught a whiff of the Wench's distinctive vaginal secretions -- she was getting aroused just telling the tale! "Go on," Bianca prompted, while shifting to her calves and ankles. Both knew that she would work her way up...

"Things went downhill quickly after that," the Wench related, "Master made demands, things that no self-respecting woman would put up with. He just took -- and I gave. Oral sex, anal sex, beatings, fisting, diabolical tortures, humiliation, abuse... He had me give blowjobs to business associates, eat out his secretary... I think I realized before he did that I HAD no self-respect -- or at least it wasn't important. He would demand something outrageous, and I would comply or be punished. Only I always complied... He punished me anyway -- object lessons, or whatever. The intent was to break me -- but I was already broken... I learned to link pain with pleasure; if it hurts, is scary, or humiliating, it's just another sensation to pile atop the others and enjoy. Sex went from being a tool I used to get things to something I craved, a gift I could give my Master to seek his approval. Master continued to push, looking for resistance, even to the point of causing me to fear for my life -- it didn't matter. If Master wants my life, he can have it; I'll do what I can to go quietly..."

Bianca had reached her crotch and was gently dabbing between her legs. The Wench stepped over and put one foot up on the toilet. "Am I okay down there? It took a beating, and it's a little sore -- do you see any blisters or anything?" Bianca leaned in warily, but the Wench reached down an opened herself up. "C'mon, you've shaved it -- give it a good look! Prod around, or whatever! If it needs something, we need to know sooner, rather than later -- if Master wants me and I'm not right..."

"Okay." Bianca got down low and tried to get a good look from below, but it was limited. Rising, she directed, "Turn and face the door, and bend over. I've got no light down there." She bent to a serious examination of the older woman, who continued to hold herself spread. Gently, she ran a finger here and there in the surface groove of her pink channel. "That hurt?"

"Nooo..."

A child of a modest culture, Bianca was ill-equipped to give gynecological exams, but she got serious about it, running her finger around the opening of the Wench's vagina. "How's that?"

"Ummm, fine." The Wench closed her eyes and Bianca couldn't escape the idea that she was enjoying the attention. Well, might as well make it a learning experience... She probed deeper, hunting around in the fleshy folds. "And this?"

"Good. It's starting to be fun..." Bianca snatched her hand back, scandalized, but the Wench just winked and grinned. "I was just teasing. Haven't you ever diddled another girl on a sleepover, or something?"

"Um, no," Bianca replied. "Couldn't bring anyone here -- it'd come out that Papa was a servant..."

"Not to mention the unsavory goings-on around here..." The Wench nodded. "Well, it doesn't mean anything much. In modeling, a lot of the girls are high-strung, and boys are around to pay the tab, not get comfort from. I've diddled and been diddled for comfort and stress relief -- it DEFINITELY doesn't mean I don't like boys... Besides, it's more fun than doing it yourself." The Wench rose. "Guess things are fine, then. Good to know -- I didn't know if I could take that much attention..."

The pair headed for the Wench's quarters, a mostly bare room with a four-foot by four-foot cage in the middle. "Why do they make you sleep here?" Bianca asked.

"To remind me that I'm a slave. And to inspire me to work hard to be allowed to sleep elsewhere." The Wench seemed nonchalant. "I'm pretty tired, so it won't matter tonight." She got down on all fours and crawled into the cage, and Bianca shut the door. "Better lock it," the Wench admonished.

Bianca did so, but asked, "What if you have to pee?"

"I'll hold it. Worst case, you'll have to clean up the mess..." The Wench's eyes danced.

Bianca grinned back and squatted there, apparently in no hurry to leave. "So, you said you had to lick out Mister Armand's secretary. Have you ever been licked out?"

"Uh huh." The Wench rotated around and curled up on her side facing Bianca. "I've given, and I've taken, freely. Getting your pussy eaten is not something you pass up, once you've had it -- whether the person doing it is a boy or a girl. Tongue rides are a lot of fun, and they're 'equal opportunity'. Don't let anybody kid you; boys do it, too -- to each other. They generally won't admit it because other guys will call 'em queer, but most guys have had a blowjob from another guy -- usually when they were young and first getting into sex. It's experimentation... But guys are a lot touchier about it than girls."

"Why?"

"It's a service. A submission. Coming from your culture as you do, I don't have to tell you about machismo..." The Wench grinned. "Think how humiliated your Papa would be to have to perform a service like that -- submit to another man and suck his cock..."

"Oh," Bianca replied, then her eyes widened, "Oh!"

"Honey?"

"Papa was... freaked... for a couple of weeks a while back. Alternated between being embarrassed and severe attacks of machismo. I think Mister Jason punished him for something..."

"Oh." The Wench blinked. "Ummmm, yeah, you're probably right. It's seriously humiliating, and Jason -- or even Master -- is fully capable of it. I heard that Jason has been abusing Jorge regularly that way." She eyed Bianca. "That's probably why you're here, now -- Jason probably made your Papa do that and it freaked him out so bad that Master forbade him to repeat it." She lay there a moment, thinking. "You can see why guys won't admit to it -- it's tantamount to admitting that they're not fit to lead, be the 'Alpha Male'. And you can see how being forced into it might really bust up someone who is into machismo." She eyed Bianca. "Knowing Jason, he probably beat up your Papa first, and then forced him. Don't blame him for it -- don't ever mention it, if you want to keep the peace."

Bianca shook her head. "If it's not so awful, why does everyone act like it is?"

"Honey, ignorance and superstition run rampant in both of our cultures. We got ours from the Puritans, and you got yours from the Pope. You've had World History, right? You realize that in the Middle Ages, the Pope was more powerful than most kings? A lot of the crap that still exists in Catholicism has nothing to do with God, but everything to do with controlling people. Morals are sacrosanct, and you're taught them early -- they don't have to make sense. So bad ones are almost impossible to root out. Religion provides almost all of our standards of conduct -- and some are as foolish as others are good -- but because you aren't encouraged to analyze your religious beliefs, the bad and the good are a mixed-up mess..." She mused for a moment. "Homosexuality is counter-productive for the propagation of the species -- but there are too many of us, already. So what's the harm? The Pope is against it because he needs more ignorant Catholic kids for a power base -- just like he's against birth control. Do you think it's really better to raise a kid in squalor caused by overpopulation than to keep him from being born? Ever hear of quality of life?"

Bianca was thoroughly shocked. This -- slave -- was trashing her religion!

The Wench blithely plowed on, and Bianca quelled her outrage when she discovered that the attack was general, and, worse, made sense: "Religious law is impossible to repeal. The Jews and the Muslims have a bunch of dietary and sanitary regulations written in their religious texts that make perfect sense in the Middle East, in the desert, forty miles from water -- but make no sense at all given modern sanitation. But they can't get rid of 'em, they're right there next to other, supposedly immutable wisdom. If religious scholars got up and said, 'Gee, this is no longer true -- we should delete it,' what would that say for the next line on the page? A lot of what goes by the name of religion is about secular power..." The Wench trailed off at Bianca's look of confusion.

"Secular?"

"Worldly. Who REALLY owns the real-estate. Religion is supposed to be about God, but ends up being about who owns the hearts and minds of the most people. And it all usually hinges upon the idea that some written work is the one absolute Word of God, which you're supposed to believe implicitly despite the fact that it appears to be a collection of tall tales. Then everybody embroiders it with stuff they wanted done at the time, and because it's in The Book, it's unassailable, too. The Catholics are the worst, by some measures, because they had things in hand for so long. Why do you think that there are so many sects that go under the heading of Christianity?" Bianca shrugged, and the Wench answered, "Because each of them -- Lutherans, Episcopalians, Baptists, you name it -- slice and dice the Bible differently. But ALL of them chop out the crap that the Catholics wove around it in an effort to control millions of poor, ignorant peasants!" The Wench paused, eyed Bianca sidelong, and grinned. "Sorry, where were we? Oh, yeah -- ignorance is rampant. Masturbation is good for you, and everybody does it -- but no one can admit it because some moron will take the opportunity to publicly denounce them if it will get him a minute in the spotlight. Oral sex with a member of your own sex is just fun and a release of tension if you're NOT homosexual, and it doesn't MAKE you homosexual and almost everybody does it, sometime. But once again, nobody -- especially no male -- can admit it. Oral sex with the opposite sex is pretty damned wonderful, but even IT is frowned upon -- and the reason seems to be because you're NOT risking pregnancy! And that brings us back to the axiom that sex is for procreation. Once, there was an emphasis on that for the survival of the species -- lots of people died, and everyone was encouraged to have as many kids as possible. Women were subjugated by men who were constantly reminded that it was their duty to father as many children as possible. But the underpinnings of the situation slipped away; we got basic control over disease, and population mushroomed, killing each other, wholesale or retail, came to be frowned upon, women started making their own mark and moving out from under male control. But the words were still there; they assumed a different focus: The emphasis went from 'Sex is for procreation, so don't pull out and dump your semen on the ground, make sure she's pregnant', to 'Sex is for procreation; you should abstain. Or at least, don't enjoy it!'

Bianca had settled to the ground, tailor-fashion, outside the cage, making for a strange picture -- a cross between 'Receiving Enlightenment at the Feet of the Master' and 'Interrogating the Prisoner'. The Wench was reflecting on this ruefully when Bianca asked her next question: "What about incest? Surely banning THAT is reasonable!"

"Mmmm, sort of. Let's take a look at it. Understanding modern genetics, we realize that the admonition was put in place to keep ignorant fools from peeing in the gene pool too many times in a row." Bianca giggled. "But any dog breeder will tell you that occasionally grafting the family tree back upon itself has value. The other, generally unspoken reason for the rule is to keep young boys and girls from being exploited by their horny relatives -- shucks, there are places in THIS country where the definition of 'virgin' is 'any girl who can outrun all of her male relatives. But YOU want to learn about sex from an older guy! I don't pretend to understand your relationship with your father, but if you have a male relative and you love him and trust him and he knows what he's doing, who better to teach you how to do it right?" The Wench eyed Bianca for a moment, then said quietly, "In your case, I don't think I'd recommend it, but in some families it would be an elegant solution -- except that it is forbidden. I have to tell you, Honey, that it IS done, too, far more than it is advertised. Mothers and sons, too. It almost makes MORE sense there -- A woman in her thirties is in her sexual prime, and so is a boy in his teens. Who better to teach a boy how to do it right and keep him from ruining a bunch of young girls with his failures?"

Bianca sat there, shocky. The Wench apparently had an answer for EVERYTHING -- most of them weird, by the standards her family had instilled in her. But lots of times they made more sense than the 'reasons' she got from her parents...

The Wench was watching Bianca, amused. After a moment, she continued, "The laws are generally in place to keep abuse from occurring -- but blanket proscriptions are seldom the answer. For me, the issue revolves around informed consent; if a teen understands the issues, and wants to go ahead, anyway, I don't think it ought to be illegal. Look at me: By law, and almost everyone's definition, I've been abused. But I volunteered for it, every step of the way, and I'm fine with the results. In fact, I'm HAPPY!" She waited another moment, and said earnestly, "Morals are for individuals, not for groups, and DEFINITELY not for legislators! Anybody who wants to tell you what you can or can't do 'for your own good' is a meddler, and too nosy for HIS own good! You have your belief system already; you got it from your parents. But if you take a good look at it and EVALUATE the things you've been told, you can toss out some of the hogwash and be happier in the long run."

"Um." Bianca was about chock full, but she'd asked everything else... "Have you, uh, had sex, uh, back there?"

The Wench actually chuckled. "My ass? Anal sex is both humiliating and sometimes painful; that puts it at the very top of Master's list! I've had his FIST in there! But what YOU want to know is 'is it good or bad?' The answer is, 'it depends'. I've been hurt terribly, and I've orgasmed big from the act; it's all in who is doing it and why. If you can relax and enjoy it, it isn't bad at all. Orgasm is in your head, as much as whatever hole is being worked on; with anal sex, the very 'forbidden' nature of it is erotic -- therefore orgasm from it is possible. There are other benefits, too -- the same ones as accrue to oral sex; nobody ever got pregnant from taking one in the ass. And it's better for him than your mouth - no teeth and virtually unlimited depth!"

Bianca managed one more feeble question. "Gay guys do that..."

"Gay males actually have one up on us for anal sex," the Wench related, "They have a prostate gland in there -- the one that gives them erections. Anal sex can actually stimulate it..."

"Omigod!" Bianca squealed. It almost sounded... right! But she KNEW better! Didn't she? "I -- I gotta go," she muttered, rising.

"Okay, Honey. Look, we've covered a lot of ground tonight -- all I can tell you is don't take MY word for it, or anyone else's. Look around, get the facts, and make up your own mind. Don't be railroaded by ANYBODY! Your Mama won't think I'm doing you any favors, and will probably be pissed if she learns that we had this conversation, but that's because she swallowed the line of crap SHE was given when she was your age, hook, line and sinker! At bottom, though, compare her to me. That dance she does with Jason? She's a lot closer to me than she is to a 'normal' person..."

Bianca nodded, and left the room, her thoughts a welter of confusion. The Wench's last comment was awful -- but it had the ring of truth. Whatever her excuses and justifications, Mama was doing something that she would go to Hell for -- but that wasn't stopping her. Mister Jason did vile things to her before, during, and after sex -- but she didn't seem to mind. How was she different than the Wench? Basically, apparently, because she wasn't honest about it -- with herself, or with Papa, or with anyone else. That -- weirdly -- made the Wench actually superior to Mama; the Wench wasn't lying about who she was or what she was doing...

Armand, who had happened upon this conversation in the middle, rewound his DVR and listened to the whole thing. He was somewhat surprised that Felicia, (he could call her that, in his own mind), had such a well-developed sense of self; he had heretofore believed that she was a broken thing, pitiful and weak-minded. The wisdom of the entire Bianca escapade was in question, too -- she was being exposed to too much, perhaps. He would discuss this with Charles, and perhaps Inez...

Supper at the distaff Wilson's started out strained and went south from there. Nate, figuring that the free ride could end at any time, immediately stopped any show of reluctance and dug into his grilled chicken breast with good appetite, but Nora was watching her mother, and Sharon was doing little eating. "What's wrong, Mom?"

"Uuh -- nothing. I don't want to talk about it." Sharon flicked her eyes to Nate, who pretended to ignore it. HE knew why Nora's Mama was uptight.

Nora wouldn't let go. "It's not 'nothing', Mom -- there's something serious bothering you."

"I don't want to talk about it. It's private." Sharon favored Nate with another glance, one that she ensured that Nora detected. The intent was clear...

...And Nora didn't care. "It's about the videos, right?" Sharon's glare and chopping motions were met with, "Nate knows about the videos."

"He DOES!?" Sharon erupted.

Nate watched sidelong as shock, horror, shame, and humiliation crossed Sharon's features. "Baby..."

"No." Nora cut him off, and rounded on her mother. "For all we know, Daddy videos US every time WE have sex! He deserved to know!"

"All right," Sharon sighed. "But we don't have to discuss it right now."

"Why not? You're upset, aren't you?" Nora demanded. "You're going to see Daddy tomorrow; maybe you need to get this worked out first."

Sharon REALLY REALLY wanted Nate to leave, and the other two knew it. But Nate didn't move, because he knew Nora would lose control of the conversation and feel that he'd abandoned her. Grimacing, Sharon took the only open avenue, even though it wasn't one of escape. "I... watched some of them, and I didn't recognize the person I saw in them, at first. Things weren't the way I remembered them -- but I had to admit that they were right. I discovered I've been fooling myself about some facets of your father's and my relationship, and I'm not happy with the discovery."

"I dunno," Nate hazarded, "from what I saw..."

"WHAT?! YOU SAW?!" Sharon was up out of her chair, face white.

"Uuuhhhhh..." Nate started, but Sharon was gone, running, her hands covering her face. In a moment, a door slammed.

"Nate, Honey -- that wasn't smart..." Nora sighed. "Maybe you'd better go -- it's going to take me a while to get Mom to open up, now."

Nate sighed and rose, looking longingly at the remains of his dinner. Nora noticed it, and murmured, "Nobody is going to eat much of this." She quickly packed some of the food in a sealable container and handed it to him. "Here. Take it with you. I'll see you tomorrow." Going on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek, but pointed him toward the door.

Nate nodded. "Sorry, I wasn't thinkin'." He turned for the door. "Hey, uh, what I was gonna say -- your Daddy is hard on her, real hard. An' this has been goin' on a long time. If she didn't find ways to handle it, she'd be all fucked up. Enjoyin' it is just one way to keep it from bein' so bad..."

Nora smiled and said gently, "Honey, were you going to say that for her benefit, or mine?"

Nate stood there a moment, then said quietly, "Your Daddy is big into controlling people; is it any surprise that your Mama is into bein' controlled, when push comes to shove? Big surprise here is that after all this time she keeps fightin' it. There's somethin' to be said for that..." He walked slowly to the door, turned and said, "G'night, Baby. I'll see you tomorrow." Then he turned and walked out.

Nora's smile went crooked. Damn him! How'd he get so smart? Sighing, she turned and headed for her mother's room. It took her an hour and a half to talk her way inside, and even then she accomplished little...

Stick Williams was draped on the couch in Mary Nally's bedroom, sipping a beer. They'd worked until six-thirty on homework, Stick actually tutoring Mary in Algebra, then Mary had told him to hang out upstairs while she collected some food downstairs. Stick had offered to follow her down and help, but Mary demurred. She'd had a long fight with her mother after the episode on Sunday morning; Irma Nally was deeply of the impression that the two boys -- especially the black one -- were just playing Mary for a slut. She'd let it go while the boys were there, but finding Mary in bed with both Stick and Teddy had left the firm impression that Mary was carrying her methods of entrapment too far, and she'd attempted (unsuccessfully) to impress upon Mary the idea that being too sluttish was counter-productive even in her desperate condition.

For the last forty-five minutes, Mary had been up and down stairs regularly, cooking dinner and then rushing up for a moment to be with Stick, who she was half-afraid would leave while she was tending the burgers. She needn't have worried; Stick had beer, television, a place to stretch out, and, last but not least, the prospect of a good fuck -- why in the Hell would he go anywhere else?

Mary showed up with a plate and an anxious expression, "Hope it's done enough..."

"It'll be fine." Stick straightened up as Mary sat it on the coffee table, plopping his beer down beside it.

Mary was back up, headed toward the refrigerator. "You want mustard? Ketchup?"

"Mary! Settle your ass DOWN!" Stick grunted irritably. "This shit's makin' me nervous!"

Mary stood there indecisive with the refrigerator door open, "You sure?"

Stick rolled his eyes. "Mustard. Since you're there. My legs ain't broke, though. What the fuck is up wit' you?"

Mary brought back a jar, dropped it on the table, and settled abruptly on the couch arm. "I know I'm..."

"What? I seen 'bout alla ya, felt up mosta ya, an' I figger I'll get around to findin' the rest. We got past mosta that Saturday night. But the chick I was here with Saturday night had her shit together an' was more or less runnin' things. Howcum you're flakin'?"

Mary dithered a bit. Fact was, she'd gotten uncommonly brave Saturday night, taking advantage of the fact that she'd known that Teddy had sucked Stick's cock in the Men's Room to blackmail them both into coming home with her. Skillful manipulation, and, in the end, a good deal of cooperation from her 'victims' had turned the night into a roaring success -- but today was another day, and her insecurities over her size were getting the best of her. "I... don't cook too well..."

Stick grunted. "I don' either. So?" He sat back and grinned, "Maybe Teddy does! He can be the butler or sumpthin'! Then we all got an excuse!"

Mary tittered, off the hook. "Well, eat it, before it gets cold." Stick leaned up and made himself busy with the knife and mustard jar. Mary had already provided lettuce, onion, pickle, and tomato... A fella could get used to bein' treated like a sultan... Stick was used to eating whatever, whenever -- and usually not enough. He had NO IDEA how he was going to resist being waited on hand and foot... Stick bit into the burger and got a surprise -- being homemade, it was uncommonly juicy. But Mary had handled THAT, too -- there was a stack of napkins between the plates.

Mary, meanwhile, had hopped up and was riffling through her video collection. She settled on something interracial, popping it into the VCR and firing up the TV. Stick ignored it, basically, merely commenting, "Yours'll get cold, too." Mary came back to the couch and plopped down again on the arm, something carefully calculated to expose her at some point. Mary was wearing a blouse and a relatively wide, short skirt -- and she'd removed her panties the first time she went to pee after their arrival. Fishing her way out of her sports bra had been impractical -- too obvious -- but her nipples showed through when she was aroused, anyway, even though it wasn't exactly the most perfect display... For being seriously heavy -- okay, fat -- Mary wasn't gifted in the bust. She had wide-based, triangular dugs that weren't really much bigger than the rolls below them, with nipples that kind of dripped off the bottoms. They sat wide on her chest, so cleavage was almost impossible to generate -- but the flattish, nursing bottle-shaped nipples were sensitive and great providers of pleasure. Stick and Teddy had both given them serious attention on Saturday night -- maybe Stick would repeat the effort... The video rolled through the FBI warning and started playing a web page ad for a porn site. Stick glanced up and chewed reflectively for a moment, watching, then grunted, "Babe, I don' need that -- except maybe to add a little imagination to things. You want laid, I can handle it without a printed invite..." He reached up and laid a hand on the creamy, freckled flesh of her heavy thigh, letting his fingers drift along the inner surface. "Hell, it was kinda the idea..."

"Okay," Mary replied, more positively than she actually felt. "Let's leave it, anyway -- I might get an idea, too." She leaned forward to collect her burger plate, deliberately widening her stance on the couch arm, opening her thighs. Stick, detecting the move, shook his head in wonder. Silly bitch! 'Let's fuck!' woulda done the job! Here she was trying to seduce him! The damned burger took two hands, though, and made both of them gooey -- he removed his hand and applied himself to it to get rid of it, more or less, even though it was really very good. Mary shook off disappointment at the removal, but left the legs wide, applying herself more slowly to her burger.

The hand was back by the time the ads were over and the starting credits were running. It was a 'Blacks on Blondes' feature, something that prompted Stick to quirk an eyebrow at Mary, and Mary to smile while chewing. This was a pretty clear indication of her intent... The video's first scene featured a big, well-hung black and a rather stringy older blonde; they got past some initial kissing and stroking and on to sex fairly quickly, with the blonde getting virtually naked almost immediately and extracting her lover's cock to worship with her mouth. Things moved on pretty rapidly, however, to a rather brutal mouth-fuck, the huge black visibly pinning the gagging woman on his lengthy erection, holding her head and slapping her hands away when they came up to fend him off. Drool poured out of her lips, and her face reddened; cords stood out on her neck as she dealt with his member. Stick's questing fingers found Mary to be wet, which led to some questions in Stick's mind... "Bruthuh be pushin' that bitch pretty hard -- that turn you on?"

Mary, chewing, was caught flat-footed. Clearing her throat, she reflected, "Uuh, gee, I don't know. The action is pretty hot; I didn't really think about why too much..."

Stick grunted. There was a power thing built into the 'bruthuh fucks a white bitch' thing -- undercurrents of ideas like 'white dudes are pussies', and 'once you've gone black, you'll never go back'. This flick catered to that bullshit -- the bitch was being ridden hard and put up wet, slavish, like she'd do anything to keep ol' bruthuh pounding her ass. Bruthuh had quit choke fucking the bitch and was poundin' her from behind; her flabby ass cheeks were rippling to the impacts and the occasional swat. Mary was going back and forth between the flick and Stick, watching it for a bit, then checking him out while slowly chewing her almost forgotten burger; there was a little unnoticed grease on her chin... Stick was already tenting his jeans, long since, but he decided to wait a while and see what developed. "Slide up, Babe, to the edge, so I can get at that thing."

Mary did so, and Stick snaked his middle finger along her gash. Pressure from her position had opened her puffy outer lips; the inner ones weren't much to speak of, and went with them, leaving her open, damp slit available over its full length. Stick drove a finger through her opening, getting it good and wet with her juices, and then shifted up and found her clit without effort. "Ooooohhhhh..." The burger went back on the plate, and Mary started wrestling with her blouse. "Uuuuummmmmm!"

Stick chuckled. "Ditch the skirt, too. It'll only get wet." The power thing was a kick; Mary was more than ready, and was taking instructions just like the bitch on the screen.

Mary hesitated. "I'll be naked..." Concern over her weight held her back.

"That's the idea," Stick prompted. "You want some dick -- or even some more fingers -- you'll get on with it."

This was sort of new for both of them. Stick wondered what Mary would do, and Mary wondered what Stick would think of her, but, ultimately, she slowly dropped it all and settled back onto the couch arm. Stick got up and moved the leftovers, then sat on the coffee table so he could see what he was doing, alternating his exploration of Mary's open gash with glances over his shoulder at the video. "Leg up on the seat," he directed.

This opened Mary up even more basically negating the covering effect of the roll of flesh that sat above her chubby pudenda. Mary continued to shift her attention back and forth between Stick and the screen, her breathing heavy; her eyes widened, and Stick turned to look at the screen.

On screen, another black had entered the picture. The look on the blonde's face indicated that this was a surprise, and obviously exceeded her plans for the interlude -- but just as obviously, she was going nowhere, solidly in the grip of her original tormentor. The second black greeted his colleague with a complicated handshake, divested himself of his clothing, and began mauling the blonde's floppy dangling breasts. In a moment, he began slapping her face with his half-hard cock, and with a reluctant glance for confirmation over her shoulder, she accepted it and began to suck.

Mary groaned. "Awright, you're ready, I guess," Stick observed, and stopped fingering her to stand up and open his belt, but Mary took over, allowing him to return to his work. His jeans were soon open and down to his knees, which revealed his erection, since he habitually went without underwear. Mary snatched off his T-shirt and started rubbing his hard chest. Stick toed out of his Nikes and muttered, "Gimme a hand," and Mary dropped off the couch arm and put her foot in the crotch of his jeans so he could step out of them while she collected one of his small flat nipples in her mouth, rubbing his back.

Nipple work didn't do a lot for Stick, they were sensitive, but more to pain than pleasure. The back rub was nice, but... "Go 'round and bend over the couch, so we can both watch the flick." Mary moved quickly; by the time he got around behind, she was bent over the couch back, legs spread wide, her wet slot peeping from below the cheeks of her blocky ass and between the spread, thick thighs. She was soaked; nothing much stopped him as he buried his cock in one stroke, despite the tightness of her hot channel. "Aaahhhh, shit that's good!"

Mary was in Heaven. Stick's taking charge added a dimension; usually, she played the part of the seductress, controlling the interlude and leading her partner/victim on until they were finally having sex -- even then, she had to maintain control of herself, or she would drive her lover off by saying or doing something that threatened them too much. This time, Stick was directing and controlling things, and everything was going in the proper direction, so she could relax and enjoy herself a lot more. And when that ungodly long cock of his sank into her... "Ooooooohhhhh, God! That's sooooo good!" she agreed, hunkering down to give him her depths.

On screen, the first black was taking it easy, relatively, as the second initiated another choke-fuck. The blonde, now on all fours, really had nowhere to go as he drove himself into her, holding the back of her head. Mary watched her throat distend as she managed to actually take his length every few strokes -- just as obviously, it wasn't always possible, even given his grip, for the big black to force it in there EVERY time. When things were going fairly well for the second black, the first stopped his easy stroking and backed off for a moment -- but only long enough to reposition and began driving his shaft into her unprepared anus!

The blonde's eyes rolled, trying to look back, and she let out a gurgling scream around the member invading her mouth -- but she was pinned. The black in her mouth slapped her, apparently for inattention, so she resumed working on his erection, obviously distracted by the long cock distending her unprepared ass...

Stick thought that the whole thing was damned rough, but it WAS seriously hot action... Mary's pussy was a hot oil bath, and he wasn't going to last long. In a moment of inspiration, Stick wet a finger and took it to the rosette of Mary's exposed anus.

It took about a second for the tip to pop through the opening, and Stick was lucky to be alerted by Mary's loud inhale; he lurched forward, burying his cock while reaching around to cover the fat girl's mouth while she screamed bloody murder in orgasm, both her holes pulsing madly about Stick's buried cock and his finger. Stick hung on grimly, grunting, unable to escape her pulsing wet grasp as it teased the semen out of him in huge gouts. "Fuck!"

Mary had been absorbing the brutal act on screen, while feeling Stick's wonderful meat moving in her, and had risen to a plateau that she thought she might be able to enjoy for some time, but the probe at her ass pulled her right into the movie and she exploded! A wash of stars obscured the video as a cum that seemed to go on and on struck her, extended by Stick's pulsing delivery of hot spunk into her quivering pussy. This was the single most incredible cum she'd ever had; collapsed over the couch back, she began to babble, "Ooh, Baby, promise me you'll do that every day! Oh, God, you're soooo good! I wanna have that all the time..." Abruptly, she came to herself, and looked fearfully over her shoulder, "Uuuhhh, sorry -- I got carried away..."

But Stick was grinning from ear to ear, rubbing her blocky ass with both hands and wheezing. "Don' worry 'bout it! I sure don' want to have to do without this shit any too often! Damn!" He pulled out, causing a line of cum to drizzle down her leg, and leaned over the couch beside her, careful to avoid rubbing his oversensitive and gooey cock on the couch back. "Why don't you gimme a kiss, an' in a minute we'll see if we can't do round two without the flick?"