“Ok girls, I think it is time for good-byes,” Candace said in lilting tones of amusement. We had cooled down now, still in each other’s arms, Natalie and I, but now cooler, and aware of shame. We looked at each other, but offset; I faced Natalie but looked at her ear, to ashamed to stare into her eyes after our intimacy, even though we were snuggled together wearing bra and panties.

We got up slowly, my limbs heavy with dread at whatever new humiliation Candace would force on me (liar...I craved it). We were made to face each other and parrot back insane words. Natalie had to shake my hand and say

“Thanks so much for the playdate Jenny!. I really enjoyed kissing your dirty little shitmouth after you rimmed Candace. Maybe we can get together some other time and play with each other, feel each other up again? A sick little slut like me can’t get enough girl to girl action with strangers!”

I had to say back:

“Oh me too! I am hooked on dyke sex too now, and getting together with another pathetic loser without a shred of dignity was great. Seeing you really puts me in perspective—I’m just a cunt-sucking little dyke!”

And, “Anytime you just want to get off, no questions asked, just use a face instead of a vibrator, call me up. It is about all this worthless slut is good for.” But was we stepped away, Candace laughed and said,

“So formal, you two! Come now, you are finger buddies! Give each other a hot, passionate kiss while you slip your middle finger up your new friend’s ass.” And so we closed in again, my neck and face burning red, and my excitement, banked a moment ago, burst into flame again as I hugged against Natalie, sliding my tongue into her, grinding my pubis against hers as I felt her finger slip into my ass. Ohh, that felt hot, and good: nasty. We kissed harder, neither wanting to stop, each one hugging the other in for tighter grinding using a finger in the ass when Candace laughed at us again and made us stop.

They left together, Natalie in her coat, as I staggered to the bathroom. I looked at myself again.

“Slut,” came out of my lips, and I decided not to brush my teeth. I wanted to remember the taste at that moment.

I lay down in bed, and learned how hot it could be to finger your own ass while you diddled your clit, legs tensed straight and cunt on fire. I had two fingers up my ass when my orgasm roared through me like a wildfire. Groaning weakly I pulled my fingers from my ass as the powerful waves slowed, and knew what I had to do. I pulled my dirty fingers to my mouth and sucked them clean; I knew it was what I deserved, what Candace would want me to do.

Eventually the madness passed, sanity returned, and I cried softly in my bed, terrified of what would happen in two days when my wedding came. I felt like a trapped animal, with no possibility of escape. Somewhere in my tears darkness crept over me, and I slept.

The next day was a complete blur, I remember almost nothing of it. It was a curious mix of Candace genuinely helping me prepare for the wedding, and torturing me. The only part I clearly remember was a stop at a sex-toy shop in San Diego. I had to explain to the girl who helped us (who was disturbingly attractive—I had begun to look at women as sex partners) that I needed a special, extra large strap on dildo as a gift to a “special woman in my life,” as well as a large butt plug, “you know, the kind of thing a girl being trained to perform anal on command might use.” The whole time I was engaged in this exquisite humiliation Candace sat beside me, beaming away, occasionally touching me in a provocative or possessive way. The girl, a tall, slim girl with brunette hair braided in a long ponytail was obviously put off at first, looking back and forth at us with alarm. Candace talked to her for a while though, explaining what a useless slut-in-training I was, and after a while she seemed positively excited to help. It was strange to watch Candace ‘convince” someone else, but all that she said had the power of compulsion behind it.

Candace said she wanted to make sure the plug she got me was “a good fit,” and Tara (the young saleslady) enthusiastically offered to help fit me. In the back of the store I stood facing the wall in a classic “frisk” position, hands against the wall, legs spread and panties given to Tara. She greased me up good, giggling as I moaned and wiggled against her fingers; she “checked” me to see if anal penetration really did make me all slippery and of course Candace was right; I was positively dripping. When the plug went in, it felt impossibly large. I had craved being full there, but now I was being torn apart, it was a tree trunk, I was being ripped apart, I would be damaged internally...and then it was in. God I was stuffed. Every step made me feel like I had a bat up my ass; I was stunned and aroused at the same time. It made sense then to both Tara and me that I should show her how grateful I was by going down on her there. She lay down on the bench while I went to work on her brown, neatly trimmed pussy; my third pussy in as many days. My strongest impression was of the smoothness of her young flesh; skin taut, the hollows inside her legs as they stretched out, tanned, youthful skin I could not help but love as I licked for Candace. As I worked my best to please this girl, thereby pleasing Candace, I listened to her whisper poison in Tara’s ear.

“This is your first time with another girl?”

“Oh yes.”

“You like it, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes it is so hot. Oh, oh she is sticking her tongue in all the way...”

“You will do this again, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes I will. I will do this again.” Candace smiled, leaned in closer and told Tara,

“You like it best when a strong woman makes you do it, makes you play girl games. You’re going to spend the rest of your life learning to crave this. You’ll never forget what it felt like to perform under my guidance, and you will find a pretty woman who can make you snap to. It doesn’t matter how you try to fight it, or how you feel about it later, the itch your cunt to perform for another woman will never go away.” I heard a sharp hiss from Tara, and looked up from my duties at her nether lips for a second. Candace was pinching her nipple, hard, and I went back down against her slick, young skin to bring her to climax. She shook against my face; she was magnificent as she came, and I was intensely aware of the fact that I had just eaten out a stranger while my ass was crammed full of a huge butt-plug; getting back to up to my feet was an effort. Tara slowly got up, not meeting our eyes, and mumbled something. Candace lifted her chin, stared at her and said, “You will never forget, will you?”

Tara looked back, and whispered, with quiet desperation and resignation, “No.”

That night was the rehearsal dinner. All my fear had come home to roost. As we left the shop Candace reminded me to make sure I didn’t wear anything too super clingy as I would be wearing the plug until she took it out of me that night. The handle on the butt plug just barely stuck out to my cheeks; it might show and did I really want my folks to know? God help me; at those words my cunt clenched and I stumbled; part of me desperately did want to be outed, while the rest of me was scared, stomach churning, anxiety gnawing at me.

The rest of the day was blur, until I found myself at the rehearsal, mouthing inanities to people who didn’t matter because I had space for two things in my mind: Candace near me, and the huge plug in my ass. Couldn’t they see? Couldn’t my cousin Jim tell I was walking like I had a fist up my rectum? Couldn’t they smell me, see my cheeks burning?

“Hey baby.”

“Oh. John,” and all I could think about was whether he would put his hand down to my ass and find the plug (why would he do that in public? Feel me up?). Or would Candace call me over in front of him and have me service her ass in front of him?

“So anyway baby, the Chargers looked awesome. God I am pumped; you know how down I get when my team loses, and how up I am when they win.” He gave me his “good boy grin” and said, “I know it’s crazy. I know it makes no sense. But going into my wedding weekend with my team undefeated makes me feel so pumped, like it is part of the buildup to the wedding, like it is an omen.” And so for a moment his enthusiasm for his team pulled me out of the hole I was in for a while. He was enthusiastic about everything he was involved in. His year of mission work in Kenya. His football team. Running. The list went on, but he had this boundless enthusiasm, coupled with an ability to listen to me that thrilled me when we first started dating. But where was it now? Was I that good an actor, was his care and attention to me maybe not as sincere as I thought? As I doubted him I remembered throwing his picture in the trashcan so I could get another lick in on Candace and I blanched. I was the traitor here. He was blameless. I clung to him until the tide of people and social chatter pulled us apart.

Rehearsal, dinner, more mindless blabbing and then John was talking to Pastor Morris and Candace took me by the elbow and her touch was so electric I tried to kneel before her; she held me up with her hand and eyes.

“A little horny jenny?” she trilled lightly, and I nodded in abject surrender. “I bet you would like to get off now, wouldn’t you?”

“Umm, Candace, oh, fuck it, yes please tell me what to do.” She laughed again; my aunt smiled at us from 20 feet away; two girls sharing joy before a wedding.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I told you something like go to the bathroom and play with that plug until you come like crazy? Forget it, you stupid little slut. You don’t deserve rewards. I have a better idea. Go to the ladies room, throw away your panties...god you still can’t pick sexy underwear you dumb cunt...anyway. Then think about how I am going to use you tonight, and see if we can’t get a visible trickle down your leg. Tonight it will be all-oral for me, with no relief for you. In fact, tonight, your face, which I have been using as masturbation toy, will now become toilet paper. That is about all your mouth is good for.” I looked at her, stunned by the idea, and already getting wetter. “You understand, right? I piss, you lick me clean. I need to crap, well baby you get to experience what Natalie dreams about every night of her godforsaken existence. Now, here’s a little test. If you are a woman, you know, a human, with dignity? Just walk over to your hubby to be. But if you are nothing but an object, a thing, get rid of your panties and let’s see how much juice runs out of you. My privates are waiting.”

There was a ringing in my ears, so much blood flooding my face and chest in humiliation I felt like I might faint, like the world was tilting to one side. There, spelled out in the clearest, baldest terms, I made my choice. I lurched away to get to the ladies room as fast as I could.

“Oh yes Candace, oh please. Please let me please you. I don’t know what to say or do, please hurt me or make me do something sick or anything to prove that I mean it. Please let me lick you.”

She lay back on the futon, legs crossed and bent, holding her book, smiling at me. “Oh I dunno. I just don’t feel like you mean it.” I was crying now, tired frustrated, hurt and humiliated beyond anything I ever imagined. Tears were streaming down my face, snot was bubbling out my nose,

“Please Candace. Please use me. I got nothing else but you a-a-a-and your beautiful pussy.” I was so cried out and so broken that something must have come out; she relented. I washed my face quickly and then crawled into the warm apex of her thighs. This was what I loved, this is what I needed, to please this magnificent woman. I ran my hands up her smooth, lean legs, and then lowered my mouth to the hollow on one side of her pussy, gently licking and kissing, then moving to the left side of her vagina. She was trimmed, I loved the contrast between the smoothness of her skin there on either side, and the dark grove in the middle. So I licked, long flat pressing of my tongue along bare skin, then gently using my fingers to pry apart her wet center. Hair against my tongue, and then the smoothness, the wonderful smoothness and strong taste of the woman I loved and worshipped. I ached to please her, and felt an incredible thrill when she put her hand on my head and pulled me in gently. Oh, it felt like approval and blood rushed to my pussy while I felt a giddy sense of well being. I redoubled my efforts, going in deep at times, stretching my tongue out so deep in her channel it spasmed with effort. Other times I gently pulled the hood of her clitoris back, loving and laving her pearl, gently sucking it in until she finally came. It was longer than usual, slower and more languorous, but intense. I came up from her pussy, my face wet, breathing somewhat hard and so, so turned on by her. What a perfect woman; I had learned to love that. To sexually desire her, to find excitement in groveling at her feet. She smiled at me, and said,

“Not bad, jenny.”

My heart leapt inside me; the tiniest crumb of praise from her was a banquet. Still grinning that same smile she said, “I gotta piss.”

My heart sank again, and suddenly I felt shabby and stupid; she was laughing at me and she had every right to. My head bowed, I followed her to the bathroom. She was wearing her top, and nothing else; she stopped and stood in front of the mirror while we both admired her. She went up a bit on tip toes, spreading her arms out in a broad gesture of pleasure with what she saw. My eyes traveled from her breasts in the mirror to her back and down to her legs and ass. I would be between there soon, cleaning her up. Who was I kidding though? I belonged there. As she turned to the toilet she grinned again and crooked her finger at me. I fell to my hands and knees and crawled to her on the cold tile floor, and said,

“Please Candace. Please don’t have me clean you.” She gave me a look of mock surprise?

“Really jennyslut? I thought this would be right up your alley. Are you sure you don’t want to be my toilet paper?” I shook my head no, tears coming again.

“No Candace, no. I-I-I-I,”

“You need to have that speech impediment looked into honey.” She grinned at me like a shark. I took a deep breath, and told the truth.

“I want you to use ME. All of it.” She would not let me off the hook, would not finish it for me, still grinning that grin of contempt. “Us me like a toilet Candace. Use my mouth, please piss in me.” The thought of being her toilet, of the most abject and servile way I could worship this woman had moved beyond my cunt. My stomach was turning and I felt this craving there that demanded attention. I was empty; I needed to be filled in the most intimate, awful way imaginable.

“Oh jenny, you are nasty. So you want me to piss in your mouth, make you swallow every drop like a good girl?”

“Ohhh yes Candace. You know I want that.” I was calming down now, the ball in my stomach getting tighter, the expectation and the lust making me almost sick with anticipation but thrilled. She moved me to the bathtub, and had me kneel while she straddled her face. I got close again to her wet core, that pussy that I worshiped, trembling at the thought of what I was about to do. I sealed my mouth around her suck, began sucking as she made her water in my mouth. Hot, salty, terrible and yet powerful waves of lust were crawling across my gut and pelvis; my pelvis was arching forward to grind against nothing but air. I swallowed convulsively; some still seeped out at the corners of my mouth, staining my dress, assaulting my nostrils. I loved it.

When she was done, when I savored that last mouthful, she stepped away, shaking her head at me.

“Why don’t you just lie there jennyslut, and reflect on what you are.” I did, not daring to touch myself though my body was on fire. She had told me no satisfaction, and I knew I wasn’t allowed to.

I lay there until the madness passed, and I wasn’t hot anymore. I was just a girl with cold piss on her party dress, a sour taste in her mouth. I staggered up, to the mirror. How much further could I fall? What would Candace do to me? Was this all coming to a head for the wedding, or would she, at the end, show me some kind of mercy? Not me actually, John. She had told me should would never hurt John, loved her brother. Maybe she would go back to England and let me spend the rest of my life making good to John. Making good to him, but inside still spoiled goods, still sick, because in my darkest heart I hoped she would take me lower.

Wedding day, and Candace was normal, like regular person normal. She even went out and picked up a bridesmaid, Julie, whose car broke down, while I stayed at the salon. Not a word to me of what we did last night, what I did, and while the junkie part of me was ready at a moment’s notice to jump out and take another swig of degradation, while she was cool like this I kept up the façade of normalcy.

Wedding day, and somehow we were at the church, pictures done, wedding service in progress. And in that church, with John’s longtime pastor officiating, and my family around, I started to feel the slightest bit healed. We exchanged vows, and I felt the power of a vow. Not a promise (promises can and are broken), but a vow. A recognition of a new state, two become one in flesh. Two become one. As I kissed my new husband, I tested around the edges of my lust, and realized that I still desired him. I still hungered for Candace and her special brand of attention, but I realized that when he took me that night, I would not be faking.

The reception at the country club was almost pleasant, and I was excited, hurt, and relived all at the same time when I saw Candace talking to my college roommate Julie. I recognized the rapt stare Julie had on, a bird caught in serpent’s eye. So. Candace had let me go, thrown me away when done suing me, and had a newer toy to play with. I should have been horrified, worried for Julie, but all I could feel was equal measures of jealousy (I still wanted Candace, would have stripped from my gown and knelt nude before her in the club has she snapped her finger) and relief. Relief; relief for John’s sake, John who was so good, so trusting, so forgiving and joyous and so far above me.

As we drove away, rice scattered behind and on us, I began to think of what would happen in the hotel room tonight, before we left to the Bahamas the next morning. I would give myself to him utterly. The vaguely prudish girl who had thought her maidenhead was her greatest gift was washed away entirely. After he came in me, I would suck him to erection again. After he used my ass for his pleasure I would whisper sweet nasties in his ear and tell him how on fire I was for him. Candace had awoken a deeply submissive sexuality in me. It would be a gift to John, and I prayed as we drove that he would take it, use it, use me.

The Sheraton downtown, and we were tired, hungry, but I had a duty to perform first, and I was wet with anticipation. When we came to the reception desk and he gave our reservation code, he turned to me with a grin (I suddenly realized how similar it was to Candace’s; the same grin, absent malice), and said

“Mr. and Mrs. John Baxter.” It was the first time we had used those words, and my heart leapt in me. “So babe, how was it? Happy?”

“Yes, I am happy. It was a perfect wedding.”

“Picture perfect,” he said looking straight at me, and that unfortunate choice of words made my heart catch in my throat. I thought of the picture I had smashed, and I swore to myself that he would have the most exciting wedding night any man ever had.

The room finally, and he carried me in, over the threshold, laughing as we had to turn sideways to fit through the small door. And there was Candace, sitting on the bed, looking lovely in red satin panties and a bra, smiling broadly. John put me down. No one spoke, until finally John said,

“You, you got someone downstairs to let you in?” She nodded, saying sweetly,

“You know how persuasive I can be Jon-Jon.” His eyes closed for a moment she said that.

“John. Call me John please Candace. And please, just go Candace. Don’t spoil this, my wedding day.”

“I’m not here to spoil anything Jon-Jon! I love you, you know that.” Her face held amusement, not malice; she believed it at least. John stepped forward, took her hands in his, gently drew her up, and said,

“Those days are over. I have my own life to lead now, and I have a woman to love. You have no power over me. You promised me when you left to go to England that I was free to make my own choices.”

He looked so strong then, confident, reasonable, speaking calmly to fix this messed up situation. This was why I married him.

“You are free to make your own choices, like for example asking me to stay with your fiancée. An odd choice, but hey, I am flexible.” Doubt crossed John’s face then; he seemed to struggle with something internally.

“It was, it made sense. It made sense for you to stay with her...” He trailed off, misery and comprehension spreading across his brow as he turned to me.

“I found out a lot about ole jennyslut over there. She doesn’t even love you.”

Through a suffocating lethargy that sapped my will, through air so thick I could barely open my mouth I croaked,

“No, I love John.” Just speaking under her gaze had tired me as if I had run miles.

“Well if you loved John so much, why did you smash his picture and tell me you didn’t love him, and wanted to eat my pussy more?” John stared at me, stunned. “Oh it’s true Jon-Jon. You know I never lie. She showed her slavish devotion to my pussy by symbolically smashing your picture before pushing her tongue into my sex. Symbols are important you know, jennyslut.” She leaned in close to John, up on her toes into his ear “You wouldn’t believe the stuff she’s done Jon-Jon. She’s dirty.” Candace reached down, and put her hand on his crotch and began massaging his cock. His eyes closed, betrayal and excitement scrawled across his face. He opened his eyes and looked at me with utter contempt. Candace had won, doubly so since his disdain, his disgust at me shot directly to my cunt. She put her hand on his chin, turning his face to hers, and they shared a deep kiss as she continued to work his cock. She took a step back and stared at her brother.

“Oh Jon-Jon, you know you are the only boy I could ever love. I like girls, but I love you. It will be just like college days, you, me and Hannah. Jennyslut doesn’t deserve your love, but I will make sure she sees to your needs. I love you, my brother. My husband.” She grinned at me, and I knew it was true.

“I love you to Candi,” came out of John’s mouth in a little boy voice.

“So you know you’re my husband now, right Jon-Jon? And I’m your wife. Because I am the only one you really want, I am the only one that really knows how to love you. Get ready for me honey.” Like those were magic words John stiffened, and then slid his pants down and started jerking his obscenely erect organ.

“You see jennyslut, a real woman like me gets Jon-Jon so worked up he comes too soon. So learned in school to always have him be a good boy and jerk off for me. After he has had a good come he can concentrate on me and take his time. Why don’t you get in front of him jenny for a quick facial? It will save time instead of you having to lick all over the rug to find his come.”

In my wedding dress I knelt, and my almost husband jerked his cock onto my face while his sister/wife gently and with true tenderness played with his balls. Ropes of come shot onto me in three convulsions; I leaned forward to lick the last hanging bit off his cock. What did it look like, I wondered, me in that gorgeous wedding gown, face covered in come, kneeling like a whore? Whatever it looked like from the outside, it couldn’t match my interior sickness, my depravity. Candace used her finger as a scraper to push all that gooey come into her slut’s mouth and I licked every bit up, treasured the chance to suck her finger clean of nasty spunk. “Did that feel good Jon-Jon? It was very hot. Now do me a favor please. Bend that nasty little slut over the chair there, and give her a good, hard spanking. Treat her ass like she treated your love.”

Terrifying, huge, he picked me up and bent me over the side of the chair; his strength shocked me and I arched my ass in the air in my hurry to comply. Up went my dress, down came my panties, and the first blow fell.

It hurt. It hurt so much, the shocking pain of it drove everything from my mind. But I was such a stupid slut, had fucked up everything so bad I knew I had to be a good girl, had to tense up my legs and hold my position. I was intensely aware of the fact I was being spanked by my almost husband in my wedding gown, ludicrous in position but deserving of all I got. The pain shot through me as his hand fell again and again, my ass was on fire, I was sobbing and shaking and I strained to hold my legs and ass tighter to get hurt because I had been bad and I wanted to be good now.

Eventually I realized I was being wracked by my own sobs, not John’s blows, and I hear Candace say to me, “It’s time to loose your virginity jennycunt. Time for you to become a woman.” Snuffling and sobbing, shaking and still crying I turned around to see Candace. She still wore the red satin bra (so beautiful, confident and predatory), but her panties were gone. She wore a leather harness instead, the one I had bought for her at the sex-shop. The giant dildo I had bought her was in place, jutting out from her long lean figure, impossibly large and threatening. “Don’t cry too hard jennycunts. One day you will get Jon-Jon’s cock. It will be in you ass though. For my sake, as an act of devotion, you are going to make it your mission to get my husband off in your slut ass every day I am not around to take care of him. He and I are going to make love in a few minutes, you can watch from the foot of the bed. But before I take his sweet cock in me, you need this in you. I told you no cock from Jon-Jon on your wedding night, and I never lie. But you will be getting fucked you little slut. That is, if you want to. Just climb up on this bed and spread your legs and let my husband see what a cunt you are. Do it and tell us with your body you want to be a thing.”

I stepped out of my panties; I wasted no time crawling up there. I knew I was destined to follow Candace’s rules for the rest of my life.