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From: bradley_stoke@hushmail.com (Bradley Stoke)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 16 Jul 2002 17:55:42 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Emma - Chapter Fifteen {Bradley Stoke}{FFf}
Date: Tue, 16 Jul 2002 19:10:06 -0400
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Emma
====

Resume of whole novel
=====================

Emma is no stranger to the world of pornography, working as she does 
for one of the premier sex television stations. Nor is she a stranger 
to the naked body, being a dedicated naturist. However, in almost 
every other way she is naive and innocent. This is the story of how 
she finds herself, and also about the lives of people around her. 
In this novel, soap opera meets sex fiction. 


For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www
          (mirror: http://www.bradley-stoke.barrysworld.net)


Previously
==========

Emma regularly makes love with both Maisie and her mother, Dorothy. 

Chapter Fifteen
===============

Dorothy and Emma were wrapped around each other and Dorothy's 
teeth were greedily guzzling on Emma's vagina. They'd been having a 
fairly busy session of love-making, enlivened by Emma beating her 
buttocks quite ferociously with a table-tennis bat: a game they'd only 
recently started playing. Indeed many of the games they'd play had an 
air of brutality: involving the insertion of quite painful objects up her 
vagina and anus, and frequent beatings across the buttocks. Indeed, 
lovemaking with Emma had become more brutal than making love to 
a man had ever been. And it was always she who was getting the 
roughest of it. In bed, it was always Emma who was the dominant 
partner. Dorothy didn't mind, though. At least it kept the two of them 
together. She allowed her eyes to wander away from Emma's clitoris 
towards her face and noticed that Emma's eyes had a far away and 
distant look in them.

She tried to work out what it was that Emma may have been thinking 
about. It certainly wasn't sex. Perhaps she was thinking about her 
daughter. Certainly, Emma's love for Maisie, although rather perverse, 
was also very touching. Emma and her daughter would return together 
from the studio, hand in hand, in delightful joy at just being together. 
Maisie's eyes lit up so brightly when she was with Emma. And 
Emma's eyes also sparkled in a special way when she was with 
Maisie.

There was none of that sparkle in Emma's eyes at the moment. Nor 
did there ever seem to be any sparkle in her eyes when they were 
together compared to that when Emma was with Maisie. In fact, - and 
Dorothy pulled her mouth off Emma's crotch at the thought, - the most 
common expression in her eyes was boredom.

"What's wrong, Dorothy?" asked Emma from above on feeling 
Dorothy suddenly disengage herself.

"You don't love me at all, do you?" Dorothy accused her suddenly.

"Sorry. What do you mean?"

"It's Maisie you love," Dorothy continued pushing herself back and 
instinctively covering her breasts from Emma's gaze. "Not me at all. 
You only come here to see Maisie!"

"That's nonsense," said Emma, but blushed like someone who had 
just been found out.

"It isn't, you know," Dorothy continued, standing up and putting on 
her underwear. "You've never loved me, have you? You only started a 
relationship with me to be able to see Maisie. I hate you!" She 
suddenly burst into tears and sobbed uncontrollably.

Emma jumped up from the bed, with the table-tennis bat still in one 
hand, and put a comforting arm around Dorothy's shoulders. At first 
Dorothy was comforted, but then she abruptly flung Emma's arm off. 
"I don't care. I'm not living a lie with you. When you come round here 
from now on, you come round to see and sleep with Maisie. You don't 
sleep with me any more! Do you understand! No more sex between 
us!"

Emma was clearly taken aback. She sat disconsolately at the end of the 
bed looking down at her hands and idly examined the rubber surface 
of the table-tennis bat. "What shall I do?" she asked weakly.

"Go into Maisie's bedroom and make love with her, as that's what you 
want to do. But don't come here and don't try to make love with me 
again."

Emma initially resisted leaving, but when a fully-clothed Dorothy 
started pushing her out of the bedroom it was clear that her erstwhile 
lover was in earnest. She obediently walked into Maisie's bedroom 
where the child was delighted by the surprise visit. 

A new pattern had formed in Emma's relationship with Maisie and her 
mother. From now on Emma's visits to Maisie's home felt much less 
welcoming than before, but her love for Maisie drove her to continue.

Dorothy felt both sorry for Emma's discomfort when she was visiting 
and bitter now that they were no longer lovers. When Emma and 
Maisie came home, she would greet Maisie as warmly as before, but 
was much more frosty towards Emma who she greeted as briefly and 
politely as she could. Then Emma and Maisie would retreat to 
Maisie's bedroom where they no doubt indulged in their sex games 
together. Games from which Dorothy was now excluded.

She sometimes speculated as to what Emma and her daughter did 
together. She knew the games that she had played with Emma herself, 
and she remembered how rough they could be. She still had red marks 
on the cheeks of her buttocks from when Dorothy felt in need of a 
beating and Emma had obliged. She remembered the occasions when 
she had nearly broken her nose in repeated batterings against Emma's 
buttocks. And she could still feel the carrots, cucumbers and other 
such vegetables that Emma would force up her vagina and sometimes 
her anus. She remembered the tiny blood stains that sometimes 
dripped out from between her legs the following day after a particular 
passionate night, irrespective of how close it was to her menstrual 
period.

Dorothy's concern for Maisie was also coloured by a wave of 
jealousy: one which wasn't at all improved by the fact that her 
daughter was quite obviously enjoying the extra attention that her 
lover was giving her. Dorothy would often see Maisie squeeze 
Emma's hand tightly in affection. She would see Maisie grip Emma 
tightly around the waist, and nuzzle her nose in the bushy mound of 
Emma's pubic hair. Emma's affection for Maisie was also undeniable. 
In her more charitable moments, Dorothy reflected stoically that at 
least the two people she cared about most were happy together, even if 
they didn't seem so happy with only her.

However, this uneasy relationship couldn't last for long. Its strain was 
particularly agonising when Dorothy saw Maisie licking at Emma's 
vagina while her hair was being appreciatively stroked. Or when she 
heard her daughter's cries of ecstasy or, less frequently but louder, 
those of Emma, coming from Maisie's bedroom during the evening or 
night. But the final moment was when an ecstatic Maisie came rushing 
in to confide to her mother what she'd been doing.

Dorothy was reading a book at the time. She'd just finished marking 
some essays, and had squeezed ear-plugs in her ears to drive out the 
sounds from Maisie's room of Emma's cries and the dreadful 
thumping of the bed against the wall. Then she noticed her daughter 
coming in, naked as always and saying "I've done it! I've done it!"

"Done what, dear?" wondered Dorothy looking up from her book and 
noticing for the first time that Maisie wasn't actually naked. She was 
wearing quite a sizable, anatomically correct, dildo around her waist 
which looked monstrous on such a small slender frame.

"Why, Mummy! I've fucked Emma! I've always wanted to and now 
she's let me!"

"You've done what?" demanded Dorothy angrily. Is this the sort of 
language she'd taught her child to use?

"I've fucked Emma!" Maisie said, with a mixture of residual ecstasy 
and satisfaction tinged by uncertainty derived from her mother's tone.

"Don't use that language with me, young lady!" Dorothy suddenly 
shouted, slapping her daughter on the face. "Don't use words like that 
ever again!" She slapped her daughter again.

Maisie fell back on the bed crying, with the still-moist dildo sticking 
out incongruously. "What have I done wrong, Mummy!" she cried. At 
that moment, Emma arrived, with trickles of sweat still running down 
her thighs and chest. "What's going on?"

 From then on, the evening was a long tirade of screaming, shouting 
and accusations - mostly made by Dorothy. Maisie cried to herself - 
and only said anything when asked. And then whatever she said 
seemed only to make things worse. Emma said very little, but was 
clearly unhappy. Finally, Dorothy announced: "If you want to see my 
daughter again : Fine! But don't come around here again. Have your 
perverted sex somewhere else, and don't let me know about it!"

"Can I stay at Emma's then?" wondered Maisie through her reddened, 
tear-stained face.

"If you must! It's none of my concern what you do together! But 
Emma's not to cross the threshold of this house again!"



--
For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www
          (mirror: http://www.bradley-stoke.barrysworld.net)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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