All characters in this story are over 18 years old. This story meets all Literotica guidelines.
The legacy
A love bondage story about two women who are closing the estate of a relative when the true inheritance is discovered.
My name is June of all things. Being named after a month was a gift of my parents.
My best friend's is Emma. Her older sister Grace died recently. It had been the big C. Tragic. Only seventy. I had met her a few times. She had been a nice woman. Slim and good looking until the end, to be frank I did not know her that well, but had liked what I knew. My friend was nice too, so it ran in the family. Emma had to close out her sister's estate. The process was super hard for her. She kept breaking down. Tears everywhere. Kleenex running out. Obviously, I had to volunteer to help her, she was my best friend after all. We did the funeral and stuff that needed handling immediately and then got into the more long-term stuff, untangling the finances and the real estate angle. I'd gotten a lot of hugs for my help so far.
Time for more.
Emma's sister, it turned out, had been something of a speculator. She had four separate properties in various states of readiness for sale. Some kind of house flipper. They all needed at least some repairs of maintenance to be ready to hit the listings. Grace had clearly been dabbling in real estate and trying to make money from the process.
We had to work hard on the first two houses, but they were quick turnarounds. After we sold those two. We got busy repairing the third. This one took three weeks of hard work; plumbing, painting and cleaning. It was tough, but we got it done and sold it.
Now, after all that, we moved on to addressing the last house. The one fhat had been Grace's personal residence.
It was a bungalow in an area of Cincinnati was majority African-American population in the neighborhood. She had bought the house, presumably cheaply, and fixed it up over three years until it, though small by comparison to some, was one of the nicest homes in the neighborhood now.
We entered it with curiosity, since Emma had not been there in a over a year herself and it had changed. The downstairs was neat and clean. Kitchen, bath, living/dining rooms and master bed room had all been redone to modern standards. Very attractive and saleable. Especially in a neighborhood that was overall a bit run down.
Emma and I were exhausted when we got there. We flipped a coin and I won the bedroom, while she got the pullout couch in the living room.
We slept the sleep of the dead. Got up around noon.
The doorbell rang five times over the next three hours; neighbors of Grace coming over to offer condolences. One woman who rang was a big African American woman who identified herself as Mavis, Grace's neighbor from across the street. She wasn't fat or anything, just a big woman. Big boned. Big breasted. Big bottomed -- with lustrous long black hair that had been straightened. She was very nice, but seemed nervous somehow to find the two of us there. She seemed to want to linger and talk, but another family from down the street showed up then with kids, it got noisy and she left.
Eventually the visits with folk were over and I said goodbye to the last one. When I went in, I found Emma wandering about the living room, looking at old picture albums on shelves and weeping. I gathered her in my arms and hugged her until she cried herself out. She was grateful, kissed my cheeks and we went out to lunch. When we came back, she squared her shoulders and immediately started going through a couple file cabinets crammed with papers in a businesslike way. I wasn't of much use for that process as it was she who had studied Grace's finances, I was just in the way and walked about.
Curiously, I climbed the staircase to the upstairs. Neither of us had been up there yet. There was a narrow corridor at the top. Off it in the middle of the house was a closet, a beautiful bathroom and a small office looking space with a computer in it. There appeared to be two bedrooms, one at each end of the house. One of these was locked, but the other was not, so I went into that one. 'Spare room' my mind pegged it as soon as I saw it. A seldom used looking bed, bureau, a single chair and a pair of closets along two sides with mirrored doors. Curiously I slid one of them open. It was full. My eyes traveled over its contents, before they sharpened slightly. I had been expecting old dresses, boxes and junky other stuff; things I would have in my own spare room closet. The rod was full, but there were only a few dresses on it.
As I pulled out two long gowns and I could immediately see that they were both far too big for the slight woman Grace and been. In addition, most of things in there were clearly were not traditional dresses. I pulled out three hangers at random and stared at them. One hanger had this jumpsuit thing on it, also for a bigger woman. It was shiny, latex or something. The other two hangers had some kind of fantasy items on them One was maroon leather, some kind of one piece with dangling crotch piece that obviously went between the legs and fastened. It had odd zippers here and there on it. And sleeves. Full arm length with curious side release buckles fixed along them like on a backpack of something. It reminded me of a weirder version of something that Michael Jackson would wear.
The other item on its own hanger was curiouser still, really just a series of straps. They obviously went around the torso, over the shoulders, around the thighs and had a wide belt at the waist with metal rings on it. It was odd. It slowly dawned on me that there was a lot more stuff in there of that same kind of unusual nature. Different than 'ordinary' street clothes. That closet was crammed with it all.
I am not an idiot. You could have outfitted a fetish shop out of that closet.
My brain pinged me and I walked over to the other wall and slid that closet open too. It was not quite as stuffed with outfits as the other, but it still had a wide selection of... 'kinky' clothes. After fifteen minutes of poking through the outfits there, it hit me like a tsunami. I realized this closet's clothes were all pretty much the same size. Built for a slimer, smaller woman. These were clearly Grace's outfits, though, curiously, there were a half dozen slightly larger sized ones that were likely not hers too. Grace clearly had some kind of side to her that I certainly had never imagined form the few times we had met.
I started thinking about how I wanted to cheer Emma up. Get a laugh. On an impulse I took out the maroon leather outfit from the first closet. I stripped down to my panties, thinking that as I did, that I didn't not want my vulva to be pressing into the crotch of an outfit owned by someone else whose hygiene I could not be sure of. I did take off my bra, as I figured I couldn't get too many cooties through my boobs. I pulled the outfit on over my head and worked it down. It encased my upper body. The sleeves tight on my arms. It took a minute, but I pulled the crotch piece through and discovered this little twist coupling that secured it.
The whole thing gripped me, but was pretty close to being a perfect fit for my size. It gave me an odd tingle to wear it and see myself in the mirror wearing it. I liked to try on new clothes anyway, but apparently, I really liked dressing up in kink. I could feel my nipples rubbing against the leather inside the top. Getting hard. I looked at myself in the mirror opposite again. I am fifty-eight. I am carrying extra weight for the last ten years that I hate, but I have kept my basic figure intact. I have handful sized breasts, but they only sag a bit and my shape is still very womanly. That outfit showed me off, lifting my breasts up a bit though encased in leather and conforming to my curves while slimming off any blubber. I think I looked rather hot in it. I did a bump and grind and grinned at myself.
I planned to sashay downstairs and strut around in my leather piece. I thought it would give Emma a giggle.
I was walking to the head of the stairs, when I glanced inadvertently into the office. On a whim, I went in and sat down in front of the screen. It fired right up to a password prompt. Emma and I had managed to get into her sister's tablet and laptop several weeks ago, discovering the usernames and passwords were identical. I tired the same ones here and the machine opened right up.
There were a bunch of files on the desktop. They all had names that sounded female, though a couple had both a male and a female name.
I opened one, it was full of.gif files and quite a few video files too. I clicked on one of the video files. After twenty seconds my mouth was hanging open. In the video Grace was in a room somewhere. She was wearing a leather whole body suit that clung to her, except her breasts were exposed. Her neat pink nipples were erect and poking out. There was a woman in front of her. A black woman. She was wearing a purple bra and nothing else. She lay face down on a table and her hands and feet were stretched off each end, with ropes tying them there. She moaned and tugged on the ropes. Grace swung her open palm down and spanked her bottom cheek with a loud splat.
The woman moaned again. Grace did it again. Then again. Her victim squirmed and cried out at each spank.
Grace was smiling, clearly enjoying herself. She slipped her hand in between the woman's thighs. Her hand began to visibly move. The woman on the table groaned and began to hump her hips backwards, rolling her bottom around. Grace took a step to one side to let her bend at the elbow on the arm with the hand still between the woman's legs. She adjusted her hand position some more and then began to piston her arm back and forth. Clearly using her fingers to penetrate the woman's vagina. The tied-up woman began to wail.
A long series of 'Oh! Oh! Oh! Yes! Like that! Fingerfuck me! Take me!' came from her and she was humping her hips back and forth. Grace used her free hand to smack the woman's buttock every few seconds. Alternating it with squeezing a cheek.
OK. Confession time. My first instinct was to turn off the video.
Not my usual thing.
