Cherry Heartbreak

All characters in the story engaging adult activities are represented to be over 18 years of age and all activities are represented to be consensual.

This is more fetish nastiness. Don’t read this unless you’re into fem-dom toilet slavery. Really. This story is my tribute to the author Callipygia, who I blame/credit for getting me into both the fetish and writing. They made something so twisted into something so very exotic. While they haven’t written in close to ten years, you can probably find their stories archived. If you like stories like this, Calli’s stories would be worth the effort to find. More than a few of their twists-of-phrase have been stolen from theirs for my own stories, so I may as well give credit where it’s due. Thanks.

Clara and I lived practically next door to each other since I was brought home from the hospital three months after her. We knew each other our entire lives and were pretty much joined at the hip. Preschool, play groups, birthday parties; we were there together for each other for just about every moment. She was my blood, even if we weren’t related. We were around each other so much that we called each other’s parents ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’. My Dad said Clara was the twin daughter he never knew he wanted.

I remember Timmy Douglas pulling my blonde ponytail during recess once in second grade. My tears and shouts didn’t make him let go; what did was Clara, all fists and elbows, jumping on him and pounding his head like it was the playground tetherball. Timmy got a trip to the nurse and Clara got a trip to the principal’s office and a few days off from school. But the message was sent; mess with one of us, you’ve got both of us to answer to.

As we grew, we naturally diverged, but only a bit. We joked that she grew up and I grew out. Clara grew a few inches taller than my 5-foot-5, and a bit more slender. I wasn’t fat, just curvy. Thicker hips and legs compared to her longer and a bit leaner frame. Neither of us ended up too much up top. We weren’t flat chested, but there wasn’t a lot of cleavage when we were in our swimsuits. Like her body, Clara’s face was a bit longer than mine, giving her a more patrician look. I had cheeks and dimples.

The rumors that girls have it easier in relationships than boys are grossly overstated. Neither Clara nor I got considerable attention from the boys in our school. Maybe it was us? Maybe it was them? Whoever was or wasn’t to blame, towards the end of high school, there may have been a lonely Friday night or two where I would have welcomed Timmy Douglas pulling my hair like he did years before, especially since he had grown into a really handsome jock. Not the king of the school, but royalty nonetheless. But he didn’t seem to notice me. That was our problem. I know there were a few guys interested in us, but the guys that we were into just weren’t into us.

See, neither of us were ‘ladies’. We weren’t dainty. Despite her somewhat regal look, Clara had long been kinda tomboyish and loved gross-out humor and there were many times we laughed ourselves hoarse over some unladylike take on classmates, teachers or just people we knew, male or female. Clara’s grandad joked that we were “broads”. That may have been sexist of him. Kidding! We loved the guy. He could call us broads, jezebels or hussies and we’d still have loved the guy.

We had that bond, but Clara was the practical one, where I was a bit dreamier. She could get to the heart of what was troubling me, since she knew me so well. Crush on someone? She’d get the dirt out of me. Stress about a zit? She’d have me soaking it in witch hazel and treating it before I’d realized it was a problem. And I liked to think I was the same for her but, really, she was better at it.

College came and I stayed in state but lived on campus. Clara wanted to study hotels and left for Las Vegas. She said what sold her on it was the chance to work in her field while still in school. Well, we were apart for the first time in our lives, but we stayed in touch from our dorm rooms over all forms of social media. Through chasing guys, stressing over classes, being chased by guys and all the new life away from home that we could live. It was like we were never apart except for the several hundred miles physically separating us.

Clara returned for Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, and it was like we hadn’t spent months apart. In reality, we hadn’t. We compared notes on the few details we hadn’t spoken of over Instagram and Tik-Tok. I told her of the liberated sexuality of hundreds of teens living together in the dorms and the drama that ensued. She countered with the unrefined hedonism of Vegas, and the liberated sexuality of thousands of adults in America’s largest adult theme park. We were subtly impressed with each other’s tales, but noted that neither of us had a guy to show for it.

That changed spring semester when I met Kenny. He was in one of my classes and was originally from a town about an hour away from the town where Clara and I were raised. He mustered up the courage to ask me to a film he had to screen for one of his liberal arts elective courses. He was sweet and shy and was just the kind of guy I was looking for.

Naturally, I shared all the details with my bestie. She congratulated me and said she was trying to find her guy, but guys in her school and around Vegas in general were a bit more cynical and jaded, preferring to sample a variety of women and the relative anonymity of one-night stands. They were always on the lookout for something more than the vanilla boy-meets-girl story. Besides, school was going well and her work program and school were really lining up. There wasn’t all that much time for a steady guy. She congratulated me on finding one, and in typical Clara form, she made a rude joke about me being knocked up by the end of sophomore year.

In truth, Kenny and I were extra careful about sex. He wasn’t my first (thank you, Mr. Nameless Frat Pledge Dude who came two seconds after jamming his little thing into me dry! I’ll fondly remember that memory until my dying days!), but Kenny was much slower and more concerned about my enjoyment. Like I said, I wasn’t a virgin, but I wasn’t the most experienced broad out there, haha!

Still, I had learned enough in my limited experience and from online porn that Kenny had a big ol’ dick.

It went unsaid that we were both terrified of an unwanted pregnancy, so Kenny always wrapped up with condoms, while I had gotten my birth control prescription. Kenny was very gentle and took his time easing into me, reading my face for signs of hurting me or going too fast. In time, we learned to pleasure each other, and, while I wasn’t a big fan of giving oral sex, Kenny didn’t seem to mind going down on me.

That summer, Clara stayed in Vegas, coming back for a few weeks right at the end of July. It was so hot in Vegas during that time that bookings were way down, so she said she didn’t need to stay in her work study program.

Seeing her in person after almost seven months, I must admit I noticed a few changes. She looked thinner, like in her face and arms. She wore mostly baggy clothes around, but she said she had found an exercise program she really liked and had made it a real pastime. Another change was a very flash manicure and pedicure. This was different since neither was the kind of thing Clara had been into before. She was always a bit less “girly” than that, so seeing her pad around the pool at my place or in her folks’ place with such a refined look was a bit different. Finally, she seemed a bit different. Don’t get me wrong; it was still Clara. She’d still lift her leg and fart in the passenger seat of my car and waft it over at me (Hello? Gross!). Same old Clara. But there was a different look in her eye. More mature? Something. I suppose she’d say the same about me. We’d both had life-changing experiences since going away to school, and we simply weren’t the same people any more. But she was still my Clara.

Some old high school friends of mine and Clara’s were renting a cottage at the lake during that time, and I convinced Kenny to come join us. I didn’t have to work too hard, as it had been a few weeks since we had last seen each other, and there were few things more motivated than a young man in need of some sex. And I was certainly hot for him.

The night before we were to drive up to the cabin, Kenny arrived and he finally got to meet Clara. I was so worried they wouldn’t get along. I warned Clara to be nice.

“I’m always nice,” she giggled, rolling her eyes. Usually, that meant she was going to make some trouble.

“C’mon. He’s important to me!” I pleaded.

“I thought I was important to you?” her eyebrows went up and down. Were her brows contoured? Did I not notice before?

“You know what I mean, just come on,” I noted an almost whining tone in my voice. The doorbell rang, and as I got up, I added “Please!”

Clara smirked before farting and we both giggled.

I was almost worried when I brought Kenny in, and introduced him.

Instead of shaking his hand, Clara took a slow looping fist and gently tapped Kenny on the shoulder. “‘Hey, ya big stud!” I cringed internally, as Clara waggled her eyebrows. She was looking at him, but I knew her performance was all for me. Kenny would have been mortified if he knew how graphically I had described his equipment, as had Clara milked me for every detail about his package over video chat.

But I needn’t have worried. He just responded with that goofy guy-ism:

“S’up?”

Guys can be so clueless.

The two hit it off and the night was underway. We stayed at my house but talked on the patio, and out of earshot of my parents. Dad had gotten us some beers (yay Dad!), but none of us were really going hard at it. I had gone inside to use the restroom and get another beer. Looking out the window, Clara and Kenny seemed to be in a pretty serious discussion. I couldn’t see her, but Kenny had always worn his emotions on his sleeve and I could tell that look where he was giving serious thought to his next words.

It was notable since most of the conversation to that point had been get-to-know-you kind of stuff. But by the time I was back outside, they were smiling and any seriousness in the discussion was either gone, or had been a figment of my imagination.

It wasn’t long before Clara rose and bid us a good night, saying she had to get ready before our trip tomorrow. I walked her out but on the way in she stuck her head in to the living room. “Good night, Daddy,” she sang lightly.

Dad rose from his chair. Mom, apparently, had already gone up to bed. “Going so soon?”

“Yes, Daddy. You know, busy busy?”

“Will I get to see you before you go back?” Daddy could be a charmer when he wanted to be.

She giggled. “I’ll check my appointment book. I’ll let you know.” She winked at him, waving as she left. Daddy stood for a few seconds, looking a bit lost.

The lake itself was great. Catching up with old classmates was awesome and we had lots of good times. Kenny fit in pretty well. He was just cool enough to get along with the guys but not “bro” enough to seem like a dick. I got several compliments from my other girlfriends about landing him. I shared some dirt with them, but nothing near what Clara and I spoke of.

Clara herself laid low. She said she had some client work she needed to catch up with, and locked herself into one of the cabin bedrooms to hold videoconferences for a good part of the day. She even passed when we headed down to the lake to swim and play. She had to put on some make up for the calls, and the transformation was remarkable. The corny, gross broad I knew and loved was replaced with a stunning woman who looked a good ten years older than my friend and every bit the professional woman. Needless to say, I gave her a ton of grief for hiding that “Miss Serious” look during her entire trip home.

She looked a little sad, saying that presenting the image was very important to those clients and that she was determined to be successful. She then excused herself into the bathroom. When she reappeared, she was scrubbed clean and my familiar Clara was back. She mixed and mingled but never stayed too long in any one conversation. After supper, she once again locked herself into a room for more calls, her voice muffled through the closed door.

The trip was great, and Kenny banged me literally morning, noon and night. At one point, we were fooling around in the lake and I had to almost hit him as he grabbed me from behind and moved my swimsuit bottom aside and tried to slip his big thing into me as we bobbed in the water. I warned him that he didn’t have a condom on, and there was no way I was gonna chance it for a few seconds of fun.

I could read his face. I knew he was struggling with his desires, but he visibly relaxed when I told him we could slip away into one of the bedrooms after lunch.

“Will you suck it?” he asked.

“Nice try, mister,” and I splashed him and then fixed my bikini brief.

After the trip to the cabin, Kenny went home, and Clara left for Vegas a few days later. It was great seeing her, but I sensed us drifting a bit apart. I wanted, no, I needed my friend and we vowed to stay in touch over any mode necessary. And, we did.

Back at university, Kenny and I picked back up and all was good. I had moved off-campus with some friends in a three-bed rental and started to figure our life on my own. Clara and I spoke regularly and my bestie seemed happy and lively when we talked. She still didn’t have a guy, or at least a regular guy but that didn’t seem to bother her. For both of us, life had a good rhythm and moved along nicely.

Soon, it was the end of the year and once again, Clara stayed behind in Vegas, claiming her work was really taking off. She was now travelling a bit for work, and seemed excited by the new responsibilities.

In a repeat of the following year, she returned for a few weeks at the end of July and Kenny came down as well. There was no cabin trip this year, but Kenny and I slipped away for a few days to hike and camp and have as much sex as we could. We hung out a bit with Clara once we were back, and all was well.

Until it wasn’t.

Junior year started and the familiarity of life with school, Kenny and my roommates. It wasn’t long until after the Christmas break when Kenny and I started to talk about living together senior year and possibly, maybe marrying after we graduated.

I asked Clara about it, and while she seemed supporting, complimenting Kenny a bit, she also noted that my parents would not be so kind.

“Mom and Dad will flip their shit,” was actually how she put it.

“What should I do?”

“Don’t whine,” she prodded.

I looked at her. “I’m not.” I gathered myself up, realizing that I was, in fact, whining.

“Yes, you are,” she paused before beginning again. “Look, what’s the hurry? You can’t go whining like that to your parents. They’ll totally shut you down. You know that.” I know she knew it as well as I did. “Kenny’s a good guy, but are you really sure you want to go down this road? Now? With him?”

“Well, it’s not right now, it’s next school year,” I reasoned

“Just a few months,” she responded. “Sooner than you think.”

“And why not him?” I continued on. “I love him and he’s a good guy. His dad is taking him on in the family firm, and he can be a good provider. His dad makes good money.”

“I’m just saying you should really live a little. You never know what’s out there if you just play it safe.”

“Play it safe?” I asked with a bravado I didn’t really feel. In fact, as usual, Clara knew me better than I probably knew myself. “Moving in with Kenny is about as far from ‘safe’ as I could be. There a lot of risk there, y’know?”

“Well, I’m just saying,” Clara rolled her eyes in that way she had, knowing she was right and that I was just too dim to see what she saw. “You could always come out here and stay with me…”

“What would I do out there?” I asked, my voice quavering.

“Don’t whine.” I straightened up as if shocked. “What would you do there?” She had a point.

Well, that call didn’t go like I thought it would. But, being honest, I didn’t know how it would go. What should I have expected? Telling my best friend that I was ready to cut her out of my life and become part of a married couple so early in my life? And, to her, she was just looking out for me, having my best interests at heart, even if I couldn’t see it by making me think things over.

“You’re right,” she smiled. “I guess I need to think this over.”

It was about three weeks later, around the time I was going to have to make a decision about my future plans, when I got an anonymous email with an encrypted link in it. I didn’t click the link, being wary of getting phished. I thought about it for a day, but came back to it, early in the morning when my self-control is at its lowest and I impulsively I clicked it.

And my world turned upside down.

The page was a series of video stills of Kenny, nude and tied up in various positions and, in all of them, his manhood was very, very hard. Beneath the images was a directory of several large video files. One file was titled “Play me”, and of the dozen or so files listed, it was the smallest. The other files were named “Kenny” with dates, going back a year and a half, if I was reading them correctly.

I looked around the room, both terrified that this was a prank, and terrified that it wasn’t. It was just me; hell, there was no one home as far as I could tell, and my room door was closed.

I was frozen. It seemed like my mouth was instantly dry and the sound of my heart pounding in my ears was deafening. What could possibly be behind all this? My hand seemed to move on its own. I clicked the link.

“Why are you here?” The screen was black and the voice speaking was electronically distorted.

Kenny’s face appeared onscreen, red and sweating like he did when exercising heavily. “You know why,” he sounded miserable.

There was a hissing and a loud crack. Kenny jumped wincing in pain and sucking in air. It took a moment before he answered again, unbidden as tears ran down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry Mistress. I’m here because my girlfriend can’t fuck me as good as you do.”

Kenny’s face disappeared in an edit and the scene cut to an angle, presumably on a bed or floor, with the camera between Kenny’s legs aimed towards his huge, bare penis as it disappeared into a hairless vagina. Unlike when he was with me, his big cock slid in easily and down to the balls. The owner of the pussy was obviously very fit, judging by the visible abdominal muscles. That and the tattoo of a cherry and a valentine heart, broken in two, next to it, inches above the hole my boyfriend was buried in served as the only identifying marks of my love’s partner. Her stomach actually bulged from the inside near her navel from his fat mushroom head rearranging her guts.

Once Kenny was fully sheathed in the velvet grip of the mystery woman’s lower lips, he groaned with the deepest, most honest pleasure I’d ever heard from him. The camera pulled back, as Kenny’s lover’s hips ground in circles centered around his thick root. She straddled his hips in a deep squat. Fire engine red patent leather boots went up to her knees, with savage looking stiletto heels at least six inches high. Matching gloves and a hood covered up her hands and face, but the rest of her was on display, lean and muscular. Large breasts, implants by the way they stood out, but implants of the finest most natural look, stood out lewdly and swayed as she began to rise and Kenny’s thick cock reappeared inch-by-inch, now slick with her juices. Muscled thighs flexed as she rose back up, just to the point where only the large fleshy head was still in her. She reversed course, swallowing him once again, earning another appreciative groan from him.

“Silence!” The voice was, again, electronically distorted. “You’re a worthless, cheating cock!”

The video cut back to his confession, focusing on his reddened face.

“And?” his interrogator continued.

“Y-you suck my cock better than anyone, ever!” he blurted, getting it out quickly in order to avoid further upsetting his Mistress.

The next scene was a profile view of Kenny’s huge erection. His cock and balls filled the screen of my laptop, and from my own experience, I knew it was only a slight exaggeration from real-life. But the red mask appeared from the right side of the screen and once again, Kenny’s cock completely disappeared. With ease. His big balls twitched by her chin. I couldn’t believe it when her nose was in his groomed pubic area, but I legit gasped as her tongue slithered out to wash his scrotum. Kenny’s moan of pleasure from offscreen and her soft sucking noises were all I could hear above my heartbeat.

Kenny’s face was once again on screen. His eyes looked up, searching for something.

“And?” the voice asked.

“The things you do to me,” his voice was barely above a whisper. A jump cut to Kenny, sweating profusely, lying face down and tied to something that looked like a tall footstool. He squealed loudly as the leather-clad mistress was pegging him from behind, wearing a strap-on dildo. Her tool didn’t seem overly large, and no where near Kenny’s size when he was hard, but she was definitely not gentle. She looked lean and powerful as she controlled him with her hips alone, turning moans to screams with a flex of her round ass cheeks. He thrashed in his restraints as she savaged his rectum. The skin of his ass glowed crimson; no doubt foreplay had consisted of him being paddled savagely.

Thankfully this was only a few seconds before returning to his confession.

“When you crush my balls.” The scene jumped to him tied to the floor and held there by ropes through large restraining rings bolted into the floor, his legs spread and those wicked boots slowly grinding down on his balls. Kenny howls filled my room through my computer’s speakers.

“When you torture my cock.” His groan was heavy with both pain and pleasure.

This scene showed one of the red gloves stroking and teasing Kenny’s swollen cock. The other gloved hand held a long, thin metal rod that looked like a single chopstick. Holding his cock, the tip of the metal rod traced around the head of the swollen rod, causing it to twitch. The caressing hand jerked down on the dangling balls, earning a whoosh of breath from Kenny. Again, the metal rod glided around his mushroom, but there was less of a reaction this time. The tip spiraled toward the slit before entering and sliding in. Slowly, almost agonizingly, she pushed the long rod inside Kenny’s cock.

I was horrified but completely entranced, almost compelled to watch my boyfriend cheat on me in the most depraved ways.

“The things you make me do…” His eyes were squeezed shut. She was doing something to him offscreen that I couldn’t see. He winced.

Gasping, “When you have me lick your asshole.” My stomach sank. The corresponding image onscreen was Kenny, tied in ropes in a stress position, straining as he leaned forward into her round, toned bubble butt. His heavy breathing was interrupted with soft licking noises.

“I love it when you fart in my face…”

I thought I misheard. I must have. But then quick series of cuts, one after the other, her laying on her stomach, squatting over his face, or standing in front of a kneeling and restrained Kenny, and her repeatedly farting into his worshipping face only inches away.

I was going to be sick.

“… and in my mouth.” Oh lord, no. But there it was. A similar montage of her in different positions and in each one, my love’s mouth suckled on her asshole. The mouth I had kissed thousands of times. Only one or two were actually loud enough for me to hear, but his reaction, every time was telling. He was swallowing her farts and enjoying it.

Now when the camera was back on him, his eyes were closed and he had the faintest smile on his lips, a look of remembering something beautiful, when he said, “And I love it when you use me as your toilet.” A rapid-fire montage of at least a dozen different scenes of her squatting over him prone on the floor and then pissing and shitting into his open mouth or onto his face. I’d no experience in such disgusting things other than the necessary, but from the huge amounts she produced in each scene, she ate extremely well. But what struck me was the absolutely blissful enjoyment on his face as he chewed and swallowed her waste.

“But mostly, no one makes me cum like you do, Mistress,” he whispered. The tears spilling down his face matched those, spilling down mine. And while we were crying over the same actions, his tears were of bliss and sexual contentment, while mine were from the cruelest betrayal and heartbreak.

Like the crescendo of a fireworks display, my tormentor had pieced together at least three dozen different clips of Kenny’s magnificent cock absolutely erupting in great gouts of semen. I never knew he could produce so much, since it was always in a rubber when he was with me. But whether the cause was her hand, her mouth, her boot or even his big cock sliding wetly from her vagina, she was clearly an artist in milking him. The amount. The distance. His roar during his seed’s release. Scene after scene of her complete and total mastery of my man.

It was all true. I had never once come close to giving him that kind of pleasure. Never once had he cum and made that noise as we fucked. And that was probably the most hurtful thing. The cheating and the way he cheated was burned into my brain, but the fact that he so clearly loved all of her degradation more than he ever showed me was what made this pain so exquisite and awful.

“I see,” said the distorted voice. “So why are you here?”

“To cum Mistress. Please allow this worthless pig to cum.”

The camera shook as it was pulled away from its close-up on my soon-to-be-ex’s face. He was hog tied, with his hands in front of him and his legs secured on the ground. She entered the scene, gloriously nude except for gloves, boots and hood and pushed him down to the ground before securing the top half to the floor restraints. His cock was swollen and almost purple, standing up straight and proud. His need to cum was palpable, even through the small screen. His swollen balls looked like they would burst, no doubt due to her offscreen ministrations.

She simply straddled his head, facing the camera and squatted. In seconds, she unleashed a forceful jet of piss into his now open mouth; the hollow glissando signaled how quickly she was filling his mouth. Kenny strained against his bonds, while his cock bobbed.

Meanwhile, a dark rope dropped from her anus, coiling around his face. The turd touching his face was enough to set Kenny off, his body convulsed and he came. And came. And came. The first spurt went straight up in the air, probably four feet. It and the rest following, spraying like a public fountain, landed on the floor or Kenny himself with wet splatters. Meanwhile, her shit just piled up in a sludgy, toxic mask.

She just stared at the camera from her hood, at me directly and seemingly impassionate to the volcanic reaction she had triggered. The jutting, spectacular breasts, the small tattoos and hairless pussy; she was epically sexy, I had to admit, even if I wanted to claw her eyes out. Her hands rested lightly on the knees of her boots. She looked comfortable, as if using cheating lovers as toilets was an every day thing. Who knows? Maybe, for this twisted bitch, it was?

In just seconds, she smothered my former lover under a pile of shit which would take me three days to equal. She bounced and stood gracefully, apparently done. Kenny wasn’t done; his sperm still oozing, and his body spasming in the restraints. In a few steps, she reached the camera, and that horrible, inhuman voice said:

“He asked for this. This was his choice.”

The screen went to black, and a stylized script graphic like a fuse ignited against the black spelling out “Your relationship has been destroyed by Mistress Cherry Heartbreak“.

My gorge finally hit and I ran for the shared bathroom. I retched while my head swam. So many questions. Who was she? When had this happened? Why? Why now? Was I so bad a lover to force him into this? I sobbed noisily and was distantly thankful my roommates were gone to class already. I was obviously not going to make my next class.

It took me a good twenty minutes between crying hysterically and puking my guts out before I left the bathroom. It was then I realized that someone was in the apartment. I went into embarrassed mode that they may have heard me. But then I realized that no one came to check on me. That wasn’t like them. They were my friends, and good ones; they would’ve looked in on me to be sure I was OK. Not as good as Clara but …

Oh, God, I’d need to call Clara. A new wave of humiliation swept over me as I went to my room. How would I explain this? I’d have to tell her, she’d insist! And she was always so good at getting the details out of me.

I pushed open the door to my room, and as if the morning hadn’t been traumatic enough, what greeted me was maybe the last thing I expected to see.

Kenny was standing in my room, with bags at his feet containing what looked like the stuff I kept at his place. All of the emotions, the rage, the betrayal, the horror, the disgust flooded into me. I admit it, I took a step towards him, intending to do him all the violence I felt I could muster, which at that point was just shy of his death, by my reckoning.

But I stopped. Kenny’s pants were undone and he was masturbating. He had rewound the clip still open on my computer, to Cherry Heartbreak smothering him under a huge pile of her shit. When the closing graphic came, so did he, exploding in orgasm across my room splashing on my bed sheets and across the dirty clothes on the floor.

It was then that he realized I was there. He was so into what was on the screen and his own pleasure that he had ignored me. He was like waking from a dream.

He tucked himself in, still dripping, and closed his pants as if jerking off in his ex-girlfriend’s bedroom to a video of him getting shit on by some whore was the most normal thing ever. I couldn’t believe it! But I began to feel lightheaded.

That fuckhead just walked past me and out of my room. My mouth worked like a goldfish, opening and closing with nothing coming out, so I just followed him.

He stopped at the front door to face me.

I don’t know what I expected. Him in tears? A groveling apology begging for my forgiveness? Any level of regret? What I got was … nothing. In fact, he looked … happy?

“I’m sorry, Betsy,” he said, clearly not sorry. “Mistress Cherry gave me the choice that she’d either send you all the videos of my time with her, or she’d cut me off and she wouldn’t make me cum anymore. She’s listening in now.”

And that fucking asshole held up his phone. It was on video call! With that bitch in the red leather hood! In my fucking apartment!

“It’s done, Mistress Cherry,” he said to the phone in his hand. I gasped at the audacity of him. Of them.

“Well done, pig,” came that horrible, distorted voice. “Come get your reward.” And she disconnected. His smile was immediate and genuine. That was it? That was the end of my relationship? Years of my time?

“I had to agree to let her send you all those videos and then bring you your things. She makes me cum so hard.” As if that explained everything?!? But as my mouth worked, and my thoughts tripped over each other in the hurry to be spoken aloud first, he opened the door and left, leaving me standing there, speechless.

I spun to the floor and the darkness took me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fifteen months later, I was unpacking my bags in Clara’s beautiful Las Vegas apartment.

To say the time in between had been life-changing would be an understatement. Not only was there my own break-up, but my parents had separated after almost twenty-five years together. This was surprising and frustrating as not only did I miss the signs of their issues, but they were both frustratingly tight-lipped about the causes and Dad had moved out. I did my best to support them both, but I struggled with my own issues. God knows I couldn’t even begin to explain what had happened in my own life to my parents. It was best to keep it to the absolute bare minimum for all involved.

After the scene with Kenny, I had to call Clara. I couldn’t tell her the details (God! How embarrassing!), but it turns out it was unnecessary. My best friend heard the pain and upset in my voice and tears and told me she was on the way to see me. Sure enough, later that night she on my doorstep, in baggy sweats and hair pulled back looking worried. It was great to see her, but she looked so thin! She immediately hugged me. I had to tell her to stop squeezing me so hard. Not only was she strong, but her tits just about knocked the breath out of me. I didn’t remember her being so big! I started to say something but she just shushed me and dragged me and her bag inside.

She met my roommates, but didn’t waste much time on pleasantries. My roommates knew the basics as well. They came back from class and found that I was a wreck while doing my laundry. Top of the laundry basket was a pile of my clothes drenched in Kenny’s cum. I never knew he could spray so much!

Clara then dragged me into my room and demanded to know what happened. At first, I was barely able to cover the basics. I couldn’t go into details about Cherry Heartbreak and what she and my ex did; it was just beyond me. So, I just pointed her to the email link.

Bless her, she spent over an hour going through it and the rest of the videos, all that I didn’t have the stomach to go through while I cried in a ball on my bed. She spared me the details of what she had discovered but told me it looked like Kenny’s activities went back a while. She was so supportive of me and what I was going through. The only thing she said about Kenny was a freak and that he wasn’t worth the tears no matter how great a fuck was.

“He wasn’t great,” I said. “Not like that. He was big, though.”

“Oh, cuz he really pounded …” she started, then stopped, realizing that voicing an appreciation of Kenny’s sexual prowess on the video was not exactly supportive of me. “Yeah. Big.” She concluded looking a little chagrined.

I had to remember that this was Clara. She would’ve been the first to share videos of anything that struck her fancy. She was just that down to earth.

My computer dinged, indicating a new email.

I came around to look at the screen as Clara opened it. I burst into a fresh round of tears as a video auto-played. Suffice to say, it appeared Kenny, wearing the same clothes from earlier in the day, had been fed a big messy pile of his reward from his tattooed friend squatting over his face and was spraying his appreciation for her everywhere. Clara apologized for the video playing, but it wasn’t her fault, was it?

Needless to say, after blocking several email addresses, I had another good cry, to Clara’s reassurances that it wasn’t me, that it was Kenny. She stayed a few more days before returning, or until I wasn’t such a complete wreck.

The rest of the school year was a blur. I told my parents the barest minimum I could get away with. Mom was typical, she defended me and called him a ‘loser’. Dad was a bit more perceptive, while still being super supportive. I remember him once saying “he didn’t think Kenny was the type”.

Even Clara’s folks reached out and let me know I could count on them.

I avoided Kenny and the places we used to hang out together. I don’t remember if I even saw him. Truth be told, I didn’t hear from him at all. Which pissed me off even more, I guess? After the years together and a serious talk about our future together (initiated by him, remember), parts of me wanted him groveling at my feet. Ha! Like Miss Cherry What’s-her-name, kissing my ass and begging my forgiveness. Yeah, I could’ve done with some real begging. I’d pass on the rest of that other stuff though. What kind of person enjoys that? How do you even find that out? Disgusting.

Clara reached out to me more often after her return back to Vegas. She was really my rock and I tried not to abuse it, but I may have been a bit selfish. She was understanding and reminded me that I could always join her after school.

A year later, after graduation, I did just that.

She told me I could stay at home for the summer and then move out in the fall, but I needed the fresh start.

Clara’s place was huge. It was a ways off the strip but had great views of the main sights through floor to ceiling windows. Three bedrooms (hers was really huge), an office located on the far side of the place (which was locked most of the time) and a really nice kitchen. She kept the place frigid, with the air conditioning blasting, regardless of the weather outside. She just padded around in baggy sweats most of the time with her hair up. She usually went to work like that, saying she hated getting to the office in the heat. Well, it’s not like she walked, either. She had a current Mercedes coupe which she used for the office, but rarely drove it outside of work. I didn’t know cars but it seemed really expensive. She Uber’d almost everywhere else, saying that the sun was murder on the paint, so she wanted to keep the car in good shape.

I will admit; I moved there right at the start of the summer and in the following months, there were more than a few days where that summer sun was so damn hot that I ran back to her apartment, grateful for the polar air inside. Well, maybe not ‘ran’; it’s hard to move fast in that kind of heat, but let’s say I was ‘highly motivated’ to get inside where it was cool.

The scale of Vegas was more than a bit much for me. I swear, crossing this street seemed to take fifteen minutes in some parts of town. The whole strip was just over the top.

But Clara just swam through it like a mermaid. She set me up with some great job interviews during the day (boy, was she well connected! Her hotel group hosted everybody…) and at night, she knew a bunch of great clubs to hit.

Clara herself was fine. She worked a lot, like sometimes really late. But she seemed to be around the apartment a lot, working in her office. She asked that I not go in there while she was working. I mean, that was the least I could do, right? I did hear her raise her voice sometimes in there, but it wasn’t my place to ask. She had succeeded in a tough industry at a young age, so I wasn’t gonna get in the way of my best friend.

She seemed to go to the gym a lot, and ate smart, but she was hardly a fanatic. She still had that skinny-lean look in her face but she was always bundled up when at home, hair up in a lazy ponytail and mostly make-up free. Sure, she seemed a bit more glamorous, with expensive mani-pedis, and even though she was in sweats, they weren’t ratty rags. It was glam stuff, but she wore it all low key. She was living the life and at such a young age! I was probably a bit jealous, if I was honest.

After having almost no social life for my whole senior year at university (Thanks Kenny!), it turned out I was ready to cut loose. Well, at least for me. I was never a real clubkid, so more than three nights out a week was really active for me. But in those first weeks, I was out at least five nights a week. Not always really late, but just getting dressed up and out the door was great. It was really therapeutic to get over … Kenny. I was already starting to put him behind me. And it was about time, too.

The clubs ranged from quiet little dives to raging casino mega-clubs and almost everything in between. I guess she had a really active social life. Her taste was close enough to mine that there were really few misfires. And she knew when a quiet night in was just the thing, as well. She said that part of her job was reading the customer. I joked as if that was how she thought of me now. She would laugh and usually do something crass like burp or fart. I’d ask her if that’s what her customers got and she’d retort “If they ask nicely, sure.” Gross! But she probably would do it.

And the men! Holy cow, the men were everywhere. And of every type! It turns out, I was really sheltered at school, while Clara was swimming in the deep waters. Like. A. Mermaid.

I admit, I may have overdone it with the guys in the first weeks there. I sampled like it was a buffet. Euros. Latinos. A black guy or two. Even a nice Korean guy (he looked like a K-pop idol; insanely hot, but really was pretty selfish in bed). Anything I could ask for was there for the taking.

Clara just wound me up like a watch and I went for it. She really didn’t need to prep me too much; like I said, it had been a while and I just unleashed my inner slut and went for it.

After a month or two, I had to slow down. On top of that, one of her connections came through and I got a lead on a dream job I thought I’d never get. It paid great and the experience was phenomenal, right in line with my studies. The interviews I had were brutal, just the toughest of the dozen or so I’d been on to that point. And I thought for sure I had blown it a number of times. But this one kept coming back until…

We went out the night I was offered the job. I was so happy! We went to a really nice cocktail bar and then to Nobu. At first, I offered to pay (I still had some savings left) but Clara just breezed through everything. I don’t even recall seeing her pay, but she did whisper with the maitre’d a few times, and *poof* we just walked out with everything taken care of.

“This night’s on me, babe,” she said, clinking my glass for my third and final toast before we headed to dinner. “Congratulations!”

“Oh, thank you, for … well for everything! There’s no way I could’ve done this without you! I thought Swede was just not getting me.” ‘Swede’ was Jonas Karlsson, Clara’s friend and the hiring boss for this job. He wasn’t even my supervisor; he was my boss’s boss. He was everyone’s boss. It was his agency.

“Aw, he’s fine. You didn’t need to worry. He told me you’d be a shoe-in for the job.” She drained her drink and grabbed her purse, as our reservations at Nobu were in ten minutes. “Besides, I told him I’d crush his balls if he didn’t hire you.” She gave a crooked little smile. I laughed like a girl who’d had three Cosmopolitans already on an empty stomach.

The meal was fantastic and the rest of the night was just as great. Nobu may be a bit overrated but it was still great food and an even better for people-watching. Clara and I made up stories for several of the tables there; some older, clearly out-of-towners were actually secret escaped war criminals hiding out. A young couple celebrating what looked like a birthday was actually a man celebrating with his mistress and not his wife. We were laughing out loud often enough we were getting looks from other guests.

We ended up at a casino nightclub. Again, we bypassed the queue thanks to Clara. We danced and drank some more, soaking up the ambience and fending off the guys. Now, I had dressed pretty nicely. I wore a chic little dress I had got for my interviews, but it really went well with the classy club that she had chosen. Clara herself was just in some stretch jeans, a white oxford and a blazer. Kinda masculine, but she wore it well. But when we hit the dance floor, she checked the jacket.

“Let’s hit it,” she said, undoing a few buttons on her shirt. And out came the cleavage.

“Whoa!” I had to shout to be heard over the music. “Where did you get those?” Clara was stacked! She was always kinda flat chested, I mean, like back when we lived in town. I but I guess I hadn’t seen her in anything but baggy clothes in, shit, how many years now? I had been living with her! I just eaten with her, and I didn’t notice! How oblivious can you get? That was me, I guess! She just smiled and grabbed my hand and all but dragging me to the dancefloor. There was clearly no arguing with her.

She had gotten some kind of surgery along the way and they looked big, but in the way that she had, she kept it subtle, even low-key; hardly the in-your-face bimbo headlights that so many girls in Vegas sported. That night alone, there must’ve been a dozen plastic girls showing more skin that you would see at a topless beach. But when she hit the dance floor, the spotlight was on her.

She just exuded a raw sexuality that, I’ll admit, made even me want her. She gestured for me to join her, and soon we were having a blast, as if no one else was there. Maybe it was the drinks? Maybe it was my excitement over becoming and adult and joining the workforce? I dunno, but I just kinda went with the whole scene.

By the time we were done, we were giddy and sweaty and had loads of male (and probably a few female) admirers. We drank for free and each of us took home a snack for later.

Mine was a nice guy named Glenn. He was charming but had a bit of depth as well. Not flashy or a real looker, but just what I wanted. Clara must’ve been hungry. She grabbed two guys, both looked like models or athletes. We took separate cars home, and at one stop light, Glenn asked if that was Clara in the next car. Sure enough, I recognized her as she came up for air from Stud #1’s lap before turning to the other on the far side of the car before her head disappeared into his lap. Looked like she was starting the afterparty early.

They beat us back home by a few minutes, so when Glenn and I made it inside we were laughing at the trail of clothes leading from just inside the front door to the balcony. I couldn’t see much through the tinted sliding glass, but from what I could make out, Clara had a guy at each end and judging from the sounds they were making, they were clearly happy with what she was doing to them.

“Come on,” I pulled Glenn towards my room. “It’s my party and I want to open my present.”

I woke at one point to get some water to fend off what was sure to be a nasty hangover. Clara’s door was open and the guys groans were loud enough to leave no doubt that she was wringing every bit of pleasure she could get from her toys before she had to return them.

As for my own, I was a bit foggy, but remembered my own party favor had some skills with his tongue. Average in size, at least compared to my ex, but he had a few tricks that the cheater never tried. I liked him, but this was Vegas; I wasn’t expecting any kind of commitment. I wasn’t surprised when he wasn’t in bed next to me when I woke.

No, the surprise came when I went out to the kitchen and he was dressed in last night’s clothes but with omelets and coffee ready. My shock must’ve shown.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I tried to work with what was in the fridge.” He nodded towards the upscale but rather empty refrigerator Clara used to store her bottled water, chocolate bars and seemingly not much else. “Sorry if it’s not hot but I didn’t want to wake you. Is this place always so cold?”

I smiled. I was hungry but a little hungover still. It was really good though.

We talked a bit before he made his goodbye, but not before getting my number. I was actually pleased to give it. He’d been … nice. And nice was good. I was happy. And happy had company when Clara emerged from her room, alone and again in her uniform of baggy sweats.

“Oh, is there more coffee?” she asked, breezing through. I slid a mug and the carafe to her. She poured and took it black. “You have fun last night?” she leered at me.

I smirked. “Uh huh. Did you?”

“I guess. They were OK. They had two brain cells between them and together couldn’t find a g-spot if it was lit up in Vegas neon.”

“Still here?”

“Nah, I kicked them out after I finally got mine. Hey this is good,” she said, admiring her mug.

“That’s my guy. He just left. You want this?” I slid the rest of my omelet to her.

She attacked it. “Wow, this is really good.” She paused, looking at me. “You like him.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do, I can see it on your face.”

“No, you can’t.” I felt my cheeks flushing.

“Look honey, I’ve known you your whole life. You’re crap at hiding your emotions. You like this guy. How was he in bed?”

“He was … pretty good. He knew his way around a kitty and, from what I remember at least, could do OK with the g-spot.”

She looked mildly pleased. “Well, I wouldn’t mind having him over again if he keeps cooking like this, and he doesn’t stay too long.” She smirked and headed towards her office.

Honestly, that felt great. Clara had been a great friend and a bit of a momma bear for the past weeks while getting me back on my feet. Her approval meant a lot to me. Once I got more put together, I went shopping to get some new outfits I’d need for work.

After my return, I called home to tell my mom the good news. Well about my job at least. It was waaay too early to talk about Glenn. She was happy, but there was something off about her. I pushed a bit but she denied that there was anything wrong. Then she just broke.

“Oh, honey,” she sobbed. “I feel so useless and alone! And the… and the… that bitch!”

I stepped out on the balcony to get a bit of privacy in case things got emotional. Clara hadn’t cleaned up from last night. The ashtray had a crumpled package for extra-large condoms, and the three used (and very full) condoms lay on the ground, tied off like party balloons, swelling up in the late morning heat. I was completely grossed out. Clara!

I made my way back inside, standing in the kitchen trying to talk but Mom was completely hysterical. I know it had been hard with Dad leaving. I just didn’t realize that me moving halfway across the country would’ve mattered, but I realized that I had been selfish and hadn’t considered her at all. I really couldn’t understand any of what she was saying. It was a mix of anger, sadness and loneliness. But something had set her off and it was all coming out now.

I felt frustrated that I couldn’t do more for her. After listening for a while, I noticed Clara standing there, looking a bit worried. I told Mom that she needed to take something to calm down and I’d call her later.

After hanging up, Clara knew something was wrong. I talked with her about it, but I barely knew anything myself. I couldn’t make sense out of anything she was going on about.

“When do you start your job?” she asked.

“Next month?”

“Ok, let me get some tickets. Let’s go home. I need to get home anyways for some work. You can come with. Stay with Mom for a few days. Nothing too long, but let’s see if we can steady her?”

It was a great idea. I called Mom and while she was a bit more subdued, she was still pretty incoherent. I told her the plan. In that time, Clara came out from her office and said she had two tickets, leaving in three days and we’d be back home. That got a positive reaction from Mom, so I asked her to hold tight until then and that I’d see her soon.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Already, home looked different. I knew it was all the same and that it was me that had changed. But there was just something that said this isn’t your home any longer.

Clara parked the rental in my driveway and came in to say hi and gave Mom a big hug before heading home to her folks. I likely wouldn’t see much of her while we were there, as she said her schedule was full.

I unpacked my small bag and came down for a simple dinner. Mom wouldn’t talk about what was bothering her, only local news. I wasn’t about to push her. But I noted that she had what looked like a double Manhattan in a rocks glass with her meal. I barely remember her ever touching booze before, but that must’ve been the new normal.

We watched some TV together and, me being tired from the trip, I made an early night and headed off to my old room. Before I went upstairs, I told her she could talk to me.

She nodded, saying she knew. But she had to build up the strength to talk. She begged me to be patient; that it was very difficult for her.

After breakfast the next day, I made a quick trip to see some other friends who were still around. I told them about my new life and about Clara, omitting any reference to the ugliness in my past and just focused on catching up. I returned home in early afternoon and Mom had another drink at her side. She took my hand and walked me to the table where she had Facebook open on her laptop.

“I need to show you this,” she said, emptying her glass.

Moving to her email, she scrolled a ways before stopping. “A little over two and a half years ago,” she began, “I got this.”

She opened the attachment, and there was my father, secured to the floor under ropes.

“Why are you here?”

That voice. That electronic, modulated voice that had haunted my dreams for over two years. I felt dizzy and suddenly needed to sit down very urgently.

The camera showed my father, slightly younger, naked and hard, almost identical to the video I had seen years before featuring my ex. He had that same look on his face of need, of want and absolute desire that had led to so many of my own tears.

“No one makes me cum like you do, Mistress Cherry.”

Then she was there. My nemesis. Red leather and nothing else to cover the swollen breasts, flat belly and small tattoos. She strutted over to tower above my restrained father before squatting and taking a healthy shit into his mouth and then onto his face. He remained motionless throughout. Mom sobbed behind me.

“Eat up, piggy,” the voice warbled. And on command, Dad ate. He chewed and swallowed like a beggar at a feast. The lean bitch stood, watching the perversion on her floor. Moving to straddle his head again, her gloved hand parted her hairless labia, and she showered him in a golden rain soaking his face, hair and body.

Dad’s orgasm was volcanic. Spraying a geyser of sperm wildly, he ate her waste ravenously until his mouth was cleared. Those vicious boots nudged the rest towards his mouth before he consumed that too. Squatting, she pissed with enough force to flush the rest of her feces off of his face before standing to admire her work. Dad was a quivering, moaning wreck while his spent hard-on bobbed like a metronome.

She squatted again, deeper this time. The camera could just make out his tongue greedily wiping at her asshole, while that cold, heartless bitch just stared at the camera. The message was clear without her saying anything. By the time the mocking graphics claimed another relationship for Cherry Heartbreak, I asked Mom for a glass of whatever she was drinking.

Mom began her story, which I already knew; it being so familiar to my own. Videos came by email, untraceable. Dad made no excuses. He offered to move out, but Mom feared getting divorced and begged for counseling. Dad agreed but in the therapy sessions, he refused to commit to stop seeing ‘Mistress Cherry’. She begged to know why he was like that. She railed at him about what would people think if they knew? She said his answers centered around that he never knew he was into that until one day something happened. He wouldn’t explain what that was. He also said, he didn’t care what other people thought.

“And get this,” Mom ranted. “He said he was willing to stay together, but I had to understand that serving ‘Mistress Cherry’ fulfilled him more than anything had since you moved out. That the way she made him cum was the most powerful experience in his life after you left for school. Can you believe that crap?”

Mom said she begged him to give any information on who Cherry Heartbreak was. He simply refused to answer. Once he left for a week, saying it was for work, but he returned looking gaunt and sick. He refused to say where he had been.

She said she tried to make it work with him, but after several months of two or three videos arriving in her mailbox each one with disgusting, depraved acts, she finally kicked him out of the house. She couldn’t even look at him, knowing the filth he willingly ingested.

After a second Manhattan, I told Mom my own story. I didn’t leave much out, except the part about Kenny jerking off in my room that one last time. It turns out things differed slightly: Dad did not have sex with Cherry, at least on video. Mom said that in the videos she saw, that bitch never had to touch his cock to make him orgasm. She admitted she had watched every video, trying to find some detail about who this woman was so that she could get some vengeance, but every video was similar, with Dad eating big piles of her waste and then only orgasming when she urinated on him, as if that were his signal. Sometimes she would make him wait to eat or cum. All Dad would do was whimper and beg piteously. She said there was some of the cock torture, the pegging and fart sniffing (Mom seemed particularly disgusted by that), but there was no sexual handling of Dad’s cock. She described some videos which were altogether different which had him positioned under a small stool or throne, and he was a legit toilet. After she had finished, the camera moved to show his face, covered with muck and filth. She said he looked like pictures of saints in church, with the peaceful, contented look on his face. Those were different than mine, and thankfully so. I don’t think I could bear to have seen those. No wonder Mom was so upset after the separation!

The videos continued to be sent after Dad moved out. Mom still watched them. She said she couldn’t help it, but I think part of it was some weird remembrance of Dad, in any form. She genuinely missed him and this was a way to at least see him happy, as disgusting as it was. The most recent video had come not even an hour before I had called with my good news. Now, Mom’s outburst that day was more understandable.

By the time we were done, it was suppertime, but neither of us was hungry. We did both have another drink, and listlessly watched some TV. I held Mom’s hand throughout.

We talked a bit more. I offered to reach out to Dad but I realized I had no idea what I could say to him. Mom said he was clear that he always held me as the most important thing in his life and that this ugliness had only started after I had gone away to school. Maybe there was a way I could use that to bring him round? But Mom just told me to face reality, that he was a pervert and there was nothing left to bring to the marriage, at least as long as Cherry Heartbreak was still using him as a toilet.

I ended up calling him, as Mom said he’d be happy to hear from me. But it just rang, and I didn’t get a call back from him until I was on the plane home.

By the time Clara came to pick me up to go to the airport for our return home, I was exhausted. Mom had calmed down, but there was clearly little left in her. She was a robot, powerless to change what was keeping her from a happy life. I had gotten a few calls from Glenn and that kept me sane. I was grateful for that but it was still a downer of a trip.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clara continued to shop me around the clubs. I did have to curtail things a bit, wanting to make a good impression on Swede. Clara continued to tell me not to worry about it, that he was a good friend. I really wondered how she could be so sure. I wasn’t ready to just be that lax. Clara smirked as if I had so much to learn.

On top of that, I did like Glenn. He came over about once a week, and cooked or did something really sweet. Even Clara took a shine to him. She let down her guard and was her usual self in front of him. She even farted in front of him. He looked so uncomfortable! I thought it was hilarious, and Clara just looked at him, daring him to say anything. The look on his face was priceless!

But her attitude with him didn’t keep her from dragging me out to the clubs several times a week. Glenn and I hadn’t had the ‘commitment’ talk yet, so she started turning up the heat a bit. Clara didn’t dress more provocatively, but she was definitely was on the prowl in the clubs. She wouldn’t rest until she had a fuckboi for each of us and then it was back home.

Mine were usually very gifted, in the way that Kenny was. I got a bit better at handling them, except for one who may have actually been as long and a bit thicker. It was ok, since he wanted to finish on my feet. Whatever. I was gonna be the last person to judge what got men off. He was nice but I wanted more depth.

I got used to hearing the moaning from Clara’s room. Whatever she did to those guys, they seemed to love it. But she chewed guys up and spat them out with few making the cut to return more than a couple times.

I had a steady rhythm of three or so nights at the club and a night with Glenn, either at mine or at his. He was sweet and we really started connecting. The sex really worked well as we got each other’s rhythms and there was a real glow I felt with him.

Until I made a big mistake.

One night, while we were having dinner at his place, I started telling him about this ridiculous guy that Clara had brought home from the club the previous Friday. He looked at me a bit funny.

“Were you with her?” he asked

“Yeah, of course.”

“So, you got a guy too?”

I realized that I had not been fully open with him that I was still seeing other people. I froze.

“I thought we had something,” he said; I could see the pieces falling into place for him. His face softened and his eyes got a little watery before he shook his head and looked away. “I see. You’re fine to play the field while I stay, what? Faithful? Faithful to some girl who doesn’t give a crap about-”

“Glenn, it’s not like that,” I began, knowing it was exactly like that.

“Spare me your bullshit, Bets. I think we’re done here. Thanks for your-”

“Glenn! Please. It’s not. Clara and I just go out and have some girl time.”

“Can you tell me with a straight face that you haven’t been banging guys alongside her?

“You know, two weeks ago when I was over, I got up in the middle of the night to get some water for us. She was there in the living room with the lights on. She had come back from clubbing with some chad. She was banging him right in the living room. Guy looked like a model and was hung like a fucking horse. Now I’m not saying your roommate is a slut, but I’ve never seen a guy handled like that. If that’s the kind of guy you’re bringing home from the club, well, I’m just glad for the condoms. I’ll still need a whole STD panel ASAP.” His eyes blazed at me.

“Now wait just a-” I tried to be indignant, as that was a pretty low blow, but I really couldn’t fault him.

“Spare me, your highness,” he spat. “I think you should go.” He rose, cleared my plate and walked off to the kitchen. I had been dismissed.

That hurt.

I liked him. And now I was the cheater. I tried to justify it in my mind. Clara had helped too, but I knew, deep down, that I was not like Clara. I couldn’t swim in those deep waters for long before I needed something safer near the shore. Glenn was a good guy, a great guy. And he liked me. He had stopped seeing other girls for me. And I knew it; without him telling me, I knew. He was just that kind of guy.

I mean, I was grateful to Clara for taking me out and getting me back on track but …

Fuck.

Alone again!

So, with Glenn gone, Clara and I were back in action in the clubs. She even set me up with the guy Glenn had seen her with that night. And he was huge. And dumb. But, boy could he pound. I purred all night long. The way he attacked me was like he was auditioning. He even tried to stick it up my butt. I mean, he tried in the nicest way possible. Really. But there’s no way that monster was getting stuffed up there! But he finally made me realize what it was about guys like that. I could see that as an occasional treat, but all the time? Wow.

But really, he wasn’t Glenn.

I thanked him afterwards. Yeah, his preferred form of ‘thanks’ was giving me a huge facial. Honestly, after he’d rung my bells, I wasn’t gonna deny him. He was an aspiring porn star (no kidding?) and he got video of him almost drowning me in cum for his audition reel. Whatever. But after I saw him off and binned three more very full condoms, I made plans to get my man back.

I kept my distance for a few days. I was sure he was hurting and the last thing I wanted to do was make it worse. So, a week after he kicked me out, I emailed him. Nothing. Not even seen. It was blocked. Calls, under the premise of getting something useless returned from leaving it as his went right to voicemail. Blocked there too.

I’ll admit it – I moped a bit.

At work, I was trying to pick up the Swede’s system. I failed a lot, but he seemed really understanding.

At night, Clara and I hit the clubs. A few times I even went out alone, when she was tied up with her own late nights at work. Wouldn’t you know, I could get my own toy for the night. Some of them were good, but none were invited back for round two.

Finally, on a night-in on the couch, Clara in her slouchy sweats dropped next to me.

“Look, hun, you need to snap out of this funk.”

“I’m fine, Clar. Really,” I put a brave face on it, I think.

She moved the hair aside from my face. “You and I know that’s not true.” I sighed.

So, I told her what I was feeling. I told her that Glenn may not have been perfect and maybe not even permanent, but he was real and I needed real. I explained how he’d gone no contact and I could even reach him to make amends.

“What about Miguel?” she asked. Miguel was Mr. Facial. “He said he liked you and would be open to something serious with you, if you’d like.”

“The porn star? Thanks, I’ll pass. Besides, as good as he is, I don’t think I could take him pounding my ovaries every night.”

She smiled. “Yeah, that boy reaches places my GYN can’t. Suit yourself, though. You could have him anytime. I’ll put in a good word.” She smiled. “Speaking of, would you like me to talk to Glenn?”

I looked at her. I hoped my horror at her suggestion didn’t show, considering what Glenn had said about her. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. He saw you one night out here with Miguel.”

She looked non-plussed. But really, why should she care? She was attractive, young and successful. It was her place. Why would she feel ashamed to be spied on enjoying her sexuality anywhere in her own home?

“I remember that night,” she smirked. “Miguel’s got that huge meat, but he doesn’t last long. I tossed him out pretty quickly that night.” I thought that was weird. He had pounded me all night long. After my night with him, I went in to work bowlegged, with an aching jaw and bags under my eyes (despite his generous liquid protein mask). He’d had no quick fires with me.

“Tell you what,” she started again. “I’ll try. Worst thing that can happen is he doesn’t talk to you, and he’s already doing that. You’ve got nothing else to lose, right?”

I couldn’t fault her there. So, I agreed, but I didn’t give it that much hope.

The next day, after lunch, I got a DM from Glenn. Holy crap, was there nothing Clara couldn’t do? I called him and we chatted briefly. He was busy, but I needed to hear his voice. I was super cautious about going too far and spooking him. I apologized and left the door open to talking further. He was polite and gracious. I was ecstatic when I messaged Clara immediately after. She just responded with a smirking emoji, her version of “told ya!”. I was too happy to let it bother me.

Two weeks later, as Glenn moaned in his release, I held him against me. I hoped he couldn’t see my tears in my darkened room. I was so happy to have him back between my legs. Not just there, but just back in general. Things were still a bit awkward. He was a bit tense, like he was holding back a little, but I had no one to blame about that but myself. I could curse myself later, but I just wanted to enjoy the moment. Just getting to this point, where things had thawed to the point that he would share my bed was such a lift to my spirit, I felt like I was floating.

He rolled off me onto the bed, pulling off his condom.

I was so excited, I wanted to take the next step. “You know, my tests are all clear. I’d love to have you finish inside me.”

He sighed, tying off the rubber. It was nowhere near as big or full as waterballoons that Miguel had left behind, but I quickly put that unfair comparison back down. “I dunno. That’s great and all. Let’s just take one step at a time, OK?” His gentle caress was so reassuring, I barely noticed falling asleep.

Which made me all the more disoriented when I woke to an empty bed. It was dark all around, but there was light coming from under my room’s door. I missed him, so I got out of bed. My default mode of night time moving around is to be silent, so I opened my door and heard voices in the main room where the light was coming from.

I crept along, not being able to fully make out what was being said until I got just outside the living room.

“… I did what you asked. Plea-” I could make out Glenn’s voice before it became garbled nonsense.

“Hush you.” Clara. Followed by low muffled moans from Glenn.

I couldn’t go in there. But I had to know. My worse instincts took over, and I just peeked around the corner.

I couldn’t immediately make sense of what I saw. Glenn was apparently seated on the floor, but he was obscured by the couch. But the focus was standing in front of him. Clara stood nude with her back to him, but she was turned so she was looking back over her muscled shoulders, down at him. Her left arm was holding him by the hair, and mashing his face between her firm asscheeks. It looked like she was wiping her ass with his face.

“You’ll get what I give you, when I choose to. Open your mouth.” Her eyes closed, and I saw her go still and tense up. The release came with a muffled squeak and she relaxed. “Swallow,” she said, all smooth and sweet.

“Good piggy. Yes, I know how hard it is for you.” The sarcasm was evident in her double entendre. I couldn’t see it but I imagined Glenn was erect and ready to orgasm. “I’m sure having relations with my lovely friend was such a chore for you. Open.” Again, I watched tension, squeak, release and the command to swallow her farts. “Isn’t my gas reward enough?” She yanked his face from between her firm bubblebutt.

He whooped in air in a great gasp before moaning a low hiss “Yes” before she dragged him, squealing, back between her cheeks by the hair. His protest was cut off by the seal from her cheeks, earning a cruel smile. She flexed her cheeks, evidently causing him pain as he flailed weakly.

“Do I not reward you for being a good piggy?” She shook his head the way a terrier would thrash a rat it had caught, while not letting him out of his smothering mask. His noises increased in urgency.

“Do I not give you gifts?” Again, with the abuse; his noise signalled his assent. “I can’t allow your disrespect. You’ll get what coming to you.” I could just make out his whimpering.

“Lucky you. It’s coming now. Open for my gift.” She gripped his hair tighter with her long-clawed hand and his moans became screams, muffled by his fleshy tomb, but then silenced into a choking cough; I could hear that his mouth was filled quickly. “Eat.”

I was horrified. I pulled away from my spot, covering my mouth. I couldn’t watch more. I wasn’t sure if I was still dreaming; I must have been. There was no way what I just saw was real. Not Glenn. And not Clara!

I felt numb. My reality was a horror show and I needed to wake up. I crawled back into bed, my mind spinning and holding my breath. The empty side of the bed where Glenn was supposed to be just reminded me, as I spiralled down into black. Not this. No.

I woke with the early morning light peeking around my windows. Glenn was back in place, and for a moment, I actually wondered if I had been dreaming, but I was exhausted. I needed to recover for a day, so I called in to Jonas and took a day’s leave. I could get a medical note. Glenn showered and made a pot of coffee. I was listless, choosing silence over voicing the turmoil that I felt. He commented on my silence and sour look and I just brushed it off, saying I didn’t sleep well. He seemed to accept that and, after finishing his cup, told me to take care and kissed me on the forehead. I recoiled, imagining what his morning breath smelled like.

I remained seated in the kitchen, forming some kind of plan and eventually Clara joined me. She buzzed around, having the last of the coffee before heading out herself.

Alone and hurting, I felt I had no choice. I rose from the chair, looked around the empty apartment and headed for Clara’s office.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clara came home in late afternoon, while I waited on the sofa. I had a pit in my stomach and the feeling that the world was spinning uncontrollably was constant. But I had questions.

“Can we talk?” I said, as she breezed in.

“Sure, give me a minute.” She floated off to her room, before reappearing in sweats and a hair scrunchie and sat a cushion away from me, one arm draped across the back of the sofa. “What’s up?”

“I saw something last night, something that really bothered me-”

“Oh, did you?” she responded. There was that frustrating smirk, so full of self-confidence. She could really annoy me with that, but I continued on.

“Yeah. And I had some concerns. So, while I was home today, I went in your office.”

“Oh, did you?” The smirk became even wider.

“Yes. And your server laptop was open and logged in. Just waiting to be explored. So that’s how I spent my day.”

A third “Oh, did you?” almost made me cry. If I wasn’t already hollowed out, I would have. But I had momentum, and I needed to continue on.

“Yeah, Cherry Heartbreak, I did.”

Her grin was positively Cheshire. “And?”

“Why?”, there was a hitch in my voice. “Clara, why would you do that?”

She rolled her eyes, and puffed out her cheeks, with a you foolish child look. “There’s only so much I can do. I mean I’ve practically held your hand since you met Kenny. Neither him, nor Glenn were anywhere near the guys you thought they were. What kind of guy would let me, no beg me, your best friend, to shit in their mouth? What kind of man kisses you after eating my shit? And believe me, they ate loads of it and cried tears of joy, begging me for even more.”

My mouth just gaped, I had so much to say, but none of my talking parts were working after hearing that. I was lucky my breathing was automatic; I may have forgotten how to do that as well!

“But,” I whispered. “My Dad.”

“Who do you think got me into this?” She moved her arm around, gesturing to the whole apartment. “He’s responsible for all of this.

“And does your mom deserve to have a willing human toilet for a husband? Wake up! These guys wanted everything I did to them. They begged to worship my asshole and everything that came out of it. I just gave them everything they wanted. They were all too short-sighted to know that there’s a price for getting what they wanted.”

I still floundered, trying to pick up any thread of what she was talking about. “How? How did he … what did Dad do?”

She leaned in, her lacquered nails folding together with clicks. “Are you sure you want to know? Really?”

I nodded weakly. I felt I had lost the initiative, but Clara, ever my ‘friend’, was going to give me what I wanted. No, needed. I needed this.

“Ok, remember your 18^th birthday? It was a few weeks after we graduated. My 18^th had been a few months earlier.” She leaned back, remembering. “Your cousins and most everyone else had left, and it was just a few of us left behind. I was helping your dad clean up outside in the yard. I was picking something off the ground and I farted. Totally accidental, but you know me.” I did know her. Or I thought I knew her.

“Turns out, Dad’s face was right behind me. I was sooo embarrassed. But he had this funny look in his eye. And I noticed that he was hard. Like, instantly erect. He was so clearly turned on. I thought it was hilarious. I mean, our folks raised both of us, and we’ve been getting into gross stuff our entire lives together. Everyone busting on each other regularly. I remember him teasing me over such silly stuff. But there he was, turned on by me farting in his face.

“So, I decided to push it. I got really close to him, practically nose-to-nose. ‘But it looks like you don’t mind that at all, do you? Daddy?‘ I whispered. Everyone else was inside so there was almost no risk of getting caught. So, I lightly brushed my hand across his cock and he staggered back like he was hit by an electric shock, moaning.

“I had to go farther. It was so naughty but such a delicious feeling. I knew I could get him to do anything I wanted. ‘Daddy? I ate too much of your wife’s cooking. You know how gassy that makes me!’ I broke eye contact to look down at me rubbing my stomach. Looking up, I saw that Daddy was gone, and there was a man standing in his place. A lusting, easily manipulated man.

“So, I burped and blew it right in his face. He legit swooned. ‘I’ve got another big fart coming. I know you want my smelly gas. And the one right behind it. And maybe even the next one? Do you want me to fart in your face?’ I could barely hear the ‘yes’, but I didn’t need to. He was practically shaking with desire. I was dying inside. This was too funny!

“Well, I really did have to fart, so I told him to go around to the side of the house, in the shadows, so no one could see us. He practically ran there. I almost didn’t go. I almost reasoned with myself that this had gone too far. But I was kinda turned on, too. Not hot for him, but the power I had over him. I had to know how far he would go; that would force me to go there too. Now, I had never done anything close to this, but what the hell.

“So, there he was, seated on the ground with his back against the house, legs together and out straight. He had opened his shorts and his cock was out. I was a bit grossed out, but this whole situation was gross. I didn’t even want to mess with that so I just told him he was forbidden from touching himself until I said so.

“I straddled him, bent at the waist and leaned back to within a few inches from his face. I teased him for a few minutes, and even brushed my fingers against his hard cock. He nearly jumped. But I finally just ripped one. He squeaked like a little excited kid, sniffing at my ass. I had to turn away, I was so close to losing it. But I had an idea.

“‘That’s your free sample, Daddy. If you want more, it will cost you.’ His wallet was out like he was a street magician. Like he had been waiting for this! I had to go for it. I had to know how far I could push.

“‘Ok, Daddy. $10 and you can have my next fart in your face. $20, and I’ll take off my shorts and you can get it from my bare ass. $40 and I’ll let you suck it directly from my dirty asshole. I’ve been sweating all day and I’m sure it’s pretty nasty back there!’ I tried to sound as bitchy as I could, but only to keep from laughing.

“I swear I didn’t even finish with my price list and he had two $20 bills out and waving them at me. What a perv! He was moaning the whole time and I had to turn around so he wouldn’t see me laughing.

Well, I peeled off my shorts and stood up straight and pulled my cheeks apart, looking back at him over my shoulder. I made him lean forward for that one. He had to show me he really wanted it. A second after I felt his hot lips sucking on my hole, I fulfilled my part. I giggled. I couldn’t help it. It was just so ridiculous. Until I saw him cum. Right there, he came. I wasn’t touching him but there he was. I stepped away as it sprayed into the lawn on the side of your house.

“I remember I just ‘tsk tsk’d‘ him, calling him a naughty perv, and a loser that liked sucking on ass and eating stinky girl farts. He looked so humiliated but he just took it. The shame on his face was the most empowering thing I’d seen in my life. Here was this man I’d respected and, to a degree, loved and now he was sitting there, with his cock out, sperm everywhere, ashamed of his desire to eat ass. My ass. I still loved him, but the power dynamic had clearly changed, and now there was my desire to make him jump to my call.

“I bent over again, hands on my knees and farted again. He got the hint and the next few minutes were spent with his lips, fixed on my asshole, as I tried to blow him up like a hot air balloon with my own gas. I just abused him.”

She stopped. I had tears in my eyes. I remembered that party fondly, but was obviously unaware of the events that were occurring during it.

“You want me to go on?” she asked.

I nodded. I had that masochistic need to know more. Clearly, I got that submissive trait from Dad, damn him!

“Well, in fact, I hadn’t been kidding. I needed to go soon. Mom’s food had really filled me up, so after I gave him his money’s worth, I stood, reaching for my shorts and panties.

“‘Where are you going?’ he asked. I told him I had to go inside and go for real. And that’s when he blew my mind. He shook his head ‘no’ and opened his mouth as wide as he could. He blew my mind, and I’m sure he stunned himself too.

“‘Are you sure?’ I asked. Fun is fun and all, but we were about to be crossing all sorts of lines.

“He paused, clearly thinking it over. There was no coming back from what he was asking for. ‘More than anything’. He held out $100 to me.

“Well, it was on.

“I think I had more concerns than he did. Would he get sick? Would there be noise? Would he eat it all? What about afterwards? What if we got caught? Just a ton of questions.

“Then, I realized that I just didn’t care about what happened to him. He had shown he was less of a person than me. He was beneath me. A thing to be used. Once that sank in, whole new doors opened up.

“I took the money and told him to lay down. It took a few minutes to figure out where to stand and the positioning of it all, where to be in order to minimize any splash on me. I figured he might puke, so I needed to be able to get away. Well, after a few false starts, I did it. I wasn’t lying, I had to go. Just a little push and it all started moving. It was a lot, too. But once I started, there was no way I was stopping.

“Luckily, I’m pretty regular, so it was firm but, jeez Louise, did it stink! When I looked back there was a huge load starting in his mouth and coiling up onto his face. I was grossed out for so many reasons. The smell was awful, but when I saw his jaws working silently, chewing, I retched too. I did my best to muffle it. Getting caught would be bad so I needed to keep the noise down. But then I noticed he was completely hard again. He had just cum a few minutes before, but here was a fresh hard cock, saluting my ass and my delicious shit. He was hooked!

“I gathered my clothes and my earnings and went to the garden hose a little way down to wash off anything left over. I was just about to clean myself when I knew I had to put the cherry on top. I waddled back over and straddled his head. He was making good progress, having eaten about half of what was, I’d thought, a pretty hefty shit.

“‘You must be thirsty.’ And I pulled back my lips and just soaked him with the last few squirts of piss left over. Just to give him the full experience. Well, orgasm number two shook him and he moaned loud enough that I scurried to get my shorts back on and get inside. I went right to the bathroom and cleaned myself up, practically hyperventilating the whole time. I had gotten away with it! Then I realized how turned on I was and, damn, if I didn’t flick my bean right there to my own fantastic orgasm. I had to bite down on one of your handtowels to keep from screaming!

“I don’t know or care how Dad cleaned up, but he avoided me for most of the night but as I was leaving, he gave me a hug. His breath reeked of mouthwash but I swore I could smell something else much worse under it.

“Well, by then, I had come back down from that all-time high and felt more than a bit weird about what we’d done. But he just whispered ‘Anytime you feel like cooking, you’ve got a paying customer.’

“And Cherry Heartbreak was born.”

I felt the tears running down my cheeks, but Clara was just going on. Or was I talking to Cherry? Was this part of the bit?

“That summer, I made a few thousand bucks from your dad before I left for Vegas. I tried new things and pushed both of our boundaries. Like, for the Fourth of July weekend, he ate nothing but my shit and only drank my piss from Friday through Monday. He was begging to stop by Sunday afternoon as he was getting sick, but I only let him stop at 12:01 on Tuesday morning. After that, I started adding cock and ball torture to the menu, with Daddy as my test case. He got punished really good for resisting me that time. But I think he liked it well enough, if I was just judging by how hard he would come once I finally let him.

“That summer when Mom left for two weeks to care for that relative that broke her hip? And you were working at that crap job you had?” She was talking about my summer job as hostess at the local Italian restaurant. “I had my own crap job but mine was much better paying and I wasn’t taking anyone’s shit, only giving. Every day for lunch, Dad was choking on my fat turds and drinking gallons of my hot piss while I sat and sunned myself poolside in your back yard while he waited on me, hand and foot. Mostly my feet. I never had to lift a finger for anything except to collect the cash.

“But his real value was the introduction to a few other discreet friends and I realized I had a whole business. Forget school, I could do this and make this work. Through them, I got set up in a nice apartment in Vegas, and a connection to a club dungeon where I could build my client base before I went out on my own. And the money was absolutely insane.

“Obviously, once in Vegas, I hit the gym. Got the tits done. Big, but classy; not quite bimbo.” She looked down at her chest and tweaked her nipples through the sweatshirt.

She seemed completely at ease; despite the horror story she had told me. I think I understood most of what she told me but there were so many questions. She rose up, went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, sipping at it as she returned.

“It wasn’t all work. I had plenty of time to go out to the clubs and meet men outside of the scene. The work had helped me set up walls to be cautious with men, so I wasn’t burned too often. Vegas has loads of hustlers. But I found I loved sex and loved men. There was a healthy ‘slut’ phase I went through, to be sure. You went through it too when you came here, I know. Sampling a little bit of everything. I’ll admit now, I really do enjoy guys who are really packing. And thickness is always a plus.

“Of course, when I came back home, I had to dial it all down. Which was fine. I really enjoy Cherry, but at the end of the day I have to put her away. Well, mostly. I must admit there are a few reminders I keep around.”

She sighed and examined her manicure before she continued. I shuddered to think what she could do to a soft cock with those claws and her bad attitude.

“Those trips back every year are sort of a ‘thank you’ to my local customers there, the ones who got me started. Every year around your birthday, Dad and I sneak into your backyard and recreate that first time. Mom is usually around somewhere. But now I keep Dad in a cock cage and with a urethral sound in place so he can’t cum. I usually take stool softeners before to make it really mucky for him. He loves it though, he’s such a freak.” She rolled her eyes at the debauchery she was suggesting. I found it revolting.

“Well, I suppose you want to know about Kenny.’ She didn’t even look to see if I agreed.

“I’ll be honest, I was happy for you. You seemed so happy. It was easy to see that you were enjoying life. That was great.

“Now remember, I had spent a little under a year in Vegas, but that had already been quite the experience. I was already making plans to head out on my own later. But at the dungeon club I was at, I had already developed some really good clients. If you saw my laptop, you know Jonas is big into pegging and getting his balls trampled. He was one of my early ones. And, you weren’t imagining things; you really did fuck up your interviews with him, he was very open about it in one session with me. But, once I stuck my finger all the way into his urethra,” she waggled her pinky, the one with an extra-long, savage looking spaded nail on it “and told him it would make me happy for him for find a job for you in his little company, well, let’s say he was very quick to ensure you were and remained happily employed.” She sipped at her wine. I cringed.

“Well, by then I had developed a sense from being around clients: what are men into? It was really mostly just pushing boundaries and, to be honest, it’s hard to turn that off but I tried to. I did.

“Well, that first night with Kenny we were just shooting the shit and having fun, but I’d catch the stray glances from him. So, you left and went inside. I wasn’t tipsy really, but a little bit of Cherry came out. Right as you were coming back outside, I asked him straight up ‘Betsy tells me you’ve got a big fat cock. I’ll take you to the balls in the hole of your choice. But you’ll have to eat my asshole until I fart in your mouth first.’

“I mean, how crass it that? Not my proudest moment. It really just slipped out. I’m embarrassed now thinking about it, but there it was.

“I figured he would tell me to fuck off and maybe even tell you about it. But not a minute later, you had rejoined us and he had texted me Oral, here by the poolside tonight after lights out. You were clueless.

“So, he snuck out after you’d fallen asleep and we 69’d on the lounge chair by your pool. And he did have one of the nicest cocks I’d seen; I must commend you on getting him. I made sure he got a full helping of ass. He held up his part of the bargain, so I held up mine. He’d never been deepthroated, so while he got several lungs full of my gas, I got a belly full of his cum, a new slave and a burning desire to feed his monster to my ravenous kitty.

“He was just as keen, so I offered my two remaining bargaining chips. My pussy for him drinking my piss and then anal for him eating a mouthful of my chocolate. He had to know it was coming, but when I mentioned the price for taking my ass, it was like he became a zombie. The idea of eating my crap just lit a fire in him, kinda like Dad. I must say, you have a type around you, for sure.

“But anyway, that first night he opted for my pussy. He drank a huge load of piss and I got stuffed. It was win-win. Seeing his eyes cross while I just kept pissing in his mouth made me so happy. I will admit to drinking a whole bunch of water right before I snuck back to your place, just in case. But my hunches were pretty good and he didn’t let me down. He was a trooper though and barely spilled a drop. And good boys get rewards. He wasn’t the best lay, but what a tool! That accounted for a lot. Plus, I hadn’t gotten laid in a while, so… I gave him some pointers and showed him how to move that thing around and he was a passable student. Above average. Well, I got him to last for a while for an hour or so before finally draining him and then he slid back into bed with you, my juices drying on his fat chode.

“The next night up at the lake, we did all three under the moonlight, finishing with him moaning my name as he sprayed deep in my ass. I hope you didn’t kiss him the next morning.” Her smirk was both cruel and maybe just a touch regretful? Probably hoping too much there. She seemed so normal though…

“Anyways, Kenny begged for my time throughout the summer, even flying out to Vegas for a long weekend to serve as my toilet. That was a new one! He’d been researching and wanted to be under a custom throne for me. For days, he didn’t move at all, just sat in place in restraints and blindfolded, waiting. He just pissed and shit in a diaper. All for the privilege of eating and drinking what I gave him. What a freak!

“I’ll admit, it was a bit weird at first. But then again, all of this was weird. So, this is just a new step on the staircase.”

She pulled out her phone, nail clicking as she swiped the screen, before holding it up. I had no idea what I was seeing until she explained it.

“Last trip out when Mom freaked out? I stayed in the condo I own in town, not at my folks. Guess who was eating my morning and evening dumps?”

I looked closer and though the face was mostly obscured, I recognized Dad’s moustache, at least the part that wasn’t smeared with shit, at the bottom of a bowl, where his mouth was the drain. And the drain looked full of stuff I wouldn’t touch if you paid me.

“I had a lot of requests for that honor, but let’s say I believe in sticking with family. And he loved it since morning shits are my biggest ones.”

I felt a hitch in my body as I sobbed, but oddly, I felt a bit disconnected from it all. Yeah, I was sad, but Cherry had a point — why would I be upset over a man who would choose this? Not only choose, but beg for such mistreatment? And if they paid for the abuse, why would they be worth my time? Or Mom’s? It was so confusing.

I motioned for Cherry to continue.

“It’s not anything personal, Bets,” she reached over and touched my arm. It felt like my friend was talking to me, not some sociopathic bitch. I was searching for some kind of grounding, anything to make sense of this. But it was reassuring. “It’s nothing against you or Mom. Well, that’s not true, I guess. It’s incredibly empowering to be able to turn another woman’s man into a slave with just my ass.

“And it’s not the act itself. Peeing or taking a dump is gross. What they do with it is worse. But, damn, if them cumming to the sight of my ass and the taste of what comes out of it isn’t the biggest turn-on ever! Fuck! It just doesn’t get old. And these men beg me for it! Any time I want, I can have a grateful mouth, eager to swallow my waste. My calendar is filled months ahead of time.

“I train them all to cum on my command. And they’re like dogs, they obey. And you’ve seen how much they spray everywhere!

“Most of them are just receptacles for my shit. Kenny was the rare one I had sex with. I will admit I have a thing for hung guys. And he was really wasted with you. I know you really didn’t get the most out of him. I’m sorry for that. But I couldn’t resist. And, like I said, he was the rare one. Most clients never feel anything other than the taste of my ass, the leather of my gloves or the sole and heel of my boots.

“Obviously I record the sessions and a few I will send highlights to their partners so they know what kind of men they are with. I mean, it’s for the best that you found out about Kenny. Sorry about that, but I had to make it clear that you needed to be free from him. I had already flown back to town when I gave him instructions to break up with you, so when that was done and you called me for help, I was already nearby, ready to come and help you pick up the pieces from what he had done.”

“What you and he had done,” I countered. I’d realized that I had barely spoken since she began her confession.

“No. Him. Remember, he asked for all of that. He had so much guilt about his double life but he began repressing it. He realized he wanted to break up to make up for his love of eating my shit.”

“What happened to Kenny? No one had heard from him not long after the split.”

She paused and looked away before taking a drink. She stood and went to the window.

“I’m not sure. A few weeks after that, he moved out here, begging to serve me full time. Again, I made use of him besides just being my toilet. But even that lost appeal. And, honestly, he became erratic after becoming my full-time toilet. He still has the record for service time, serving full weeks eating nothing but my poo. But he smelled and became really unhealthy, so for both our sakes, I threw him out and told him to get help. Of course, he tried to come back, swearing he’d be better, but it wasn’t even that. He was a reminder how I betrayed you, so I had some other clients make sure he got the message.

“Last I heard, he’s out there somewhere. Maybe on the streets? Maybe not. But where ever he is, he’s not all there.” She tapped at her temple.

“And Glenn?” I asked.

“What about him?” Cherry walked back and sat down.

“What did you do to him?”

“Nothing. Same as Dad. Just farted in his face one night when you weren’t looking and I watched the light in his eyes go out, too. I’m just getting him going. Him breaking up with you was just an excuse for him trying to latch on to me but, trust me, I’m not interested. He’s being corrected on that.

“And he wasn’t telling you the full story about that night he saw me and Miguel out here. He didn’t go back to bed with you after he saw us. He waited like a good little slave until I was done and had seen Miguel out, then he ate my ass for an hour before I fed him a huge pile of my shit right in front of where you’re sitting.”

Well, if that didn’t top this incredibly awful day. What the hell was I gonna do?

“What’s next?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s next for us?”

“Well, there’s nothing for you and Cherry. Sorry, I don’t swing that way.” She looked at me, and could see the utter horror on my face. She broke into that goofy grin I remembered from years ago after she’d gross me out and I knew it was Clara.

“Kidding!” she sang. “You can do anything, babe. I love you and like I said, I want the best for you. You just need to pick better men. Trust me, they’re out there.”

She thought for a moment, then stood and held out her hand. “Here, let me show you something.”

I accepted her hand and she led me into her office. She went to the corner, where there was a bulky figure covered in a black sheet. I’d noticed it earlier when I went in to look at her laptop, but I figured it was some sculpture or something. She pulled it back and I gasped. It was a toilet sitting on a raised platform, with a long wooden box extending behind it. A man-sized box.

“Come on, it won’t bite,” she said. I stepped closer, but cautiously. I couldn’t help it. Was there someone in there right now?

She answered that question by lifting the lid while undoing the drawstring on her sweatpants. Gesturing me to look inside, she asked “You remember Timmy Douglas from school? Say ‘Hi’ Timmy!” she sang, gleefully. Unintelligible groans came from inside the bowl and box.

I peered inside and there was just a mouth, held open with a plastic dental restraint, holding the slave’s jaws open wide, ready to serve Mistress Cherry.

“You wanna watch?” Her pants were at her knees and finally, there they were – the tattoos that had haunted my dreams. But seeing them on Clara, I realized, that they didn’t hurt so much anymore.

Hair-pulling Timmy Douglas was in the box? I never did forgive that asshole for that.

“Actually,” I began. “Can I go first?” Moving to the front of the bowl, I undid my jeans and began to push them down.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Morning came around and the urge to get out of bed was strong.

Ugh.

I swung my legs over the side of bed to get up and the first thing I was aware of was how sore I was. If I was honest though, I hoped I’d never quite get used to it.