Abigail and Emily

The next morning, Rick and Emily slept in. I left breakfast out for them while I did some other chores. Finally I heard them come downstairs while I was jazzing up one of Emily's PowerPoints.

I avoided them. I couldn't shake the humiliation of the night before. I couldn't believe I had gone through with this insane plan to help Emily and Rick's relationship.

Later, after Rick went out, Emily found me and gave me a big hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said.

"Everything's OK?" I said.

"Better than OK! He was so sweet this morning. We made love--it was wonderful. I feel like he's back to

normal

, finally!"

"I was so scared you would be mad," I said.

"Why would I be mad?"

"I don't know, I thought--I mean, you

saw

us--together."

"So?" she said.

"I've seen you get pretty jealous sometimes," I said.

"Oh, Abigail," she said, with a little laugh. She put her hand on my shoulder. "Not with

you!

"

***

The next night, I was just drifting off to sleep when a soft knock on the door startled me awake. Rick swung the door open without waiting for a response.

"Is everything all right?" I said.

He looked a bit sheepish. Then I saw what he had in his hands. He was holding it like a religious offering--a bottle of lubricant.

"Oh," I said.

I don't know why I thought our arrangement had been a one-time thing. I thought Rick just needed to get it out of his system, and then everything would go back to the way it had been. All of us would forget that we had ever done this shameful thing.

But here Rick was, in my room, again, and it was clear what he wanted. He wasn't sneaking around. Emily was home. She was in the next room, and she knew he was here.

So I pulled my shorts off, under the covers. And when he climbed into bed with me, I turned over, offering him my ass.

Neither of us said another word.

***

Hey, how are you?

texted Darcy.

Hope you're ok. Let me know if you ever want to talk.

When I didn't reply, she sent:

I'm worried about you.

I didn't know what to tell her. She wouldn't understand. I never returned her text.

***

Rick didn't visit my room every night. I never knew when he would appear. I craved the pleasure and release he brought me. On nights he didn't come to my room, I felt lonely and rejected. But I was going crazy, only feeling a cock in my ass every time. I longed to be touched, kissed, caressed. I was starting to get desperate to feel Rick's cock somewhere else, anywhere else--in my hands, my mouth, or my poor neglected pussy.

I began to feel like I wasn't a person anymore, not even a body. I was just my ass. That was my entire use to Rick, and to Emily. I was a hole for Rick to put his cock in.

Deep down I knew I deserved this. This was my penance. I'd taken advantage of Emily that day by the pool, and then I'd behaved so obscenely with the stripper.

Was it such a bad penance, all things considered? When Rick fucked me, I would have the most tremendous orgasms. But sometimes he was too excited, he finished too quickly, and I was left frustrated. I would have to finish myself off after he left.

I was too scared to touch myself while Rick fucked me. I was afraid of what Emily would think if she caught me with my hand down there. Although she said she wasn't jealous, she seemed upset if I enjoyed myself too much. After that first night, I did my best to stifle my groans of pleasure so that she wouldn't hear.

But still Emily never seemed to trust Rick and I completely. She would randomly come into the room to check on us. She needed to check that we were following her rules--no touching, no kissing, no foreplay. We never knew on which nights she would appear. Each time, she would reach down between us to confirm that Rick was in my ass and not my pussy.

I wanted to pull her down onto the bed with us. I wanted her to kiss me and hold me while Rick used my ass.

But I was a coward. I was still so afraid of what she would think, even after all this time.

He can have my ass, Emily. I don't care. You have my heart.

I hadn't stopped looking for a job. Every day I dutifully sent out my resume. But I was starting to lose hope. It made me feel terrible, like there was something fundamentally wrong with me.

Of course no one will hire you

, I thought.

You already have the only job you're fit for. You're Rick's slut.

One night, Rick didn't leave immediately. He rolled off of me, but he stayed sitting on the edge of the bed. He had his head in his hands. I thought he was muttering to himself, and I strained to hear the words. It took me a moment to realize he was crying.

I didn't know what to do. I slowly put a hand on his shoulder and left it there. He didn't react. He stayed there sniffling for another minute, then stood up and went to the door.

He said something like, "I didn't want this, either." Then he left.

***

The next morning, I was folding laundry, and I noticed that Rick had left his bottle of lubricant on my nightstand. There was something obscene about seeing it there. He and I were doing this shameful thing together. But we did it at night. That's where it belonged. It shouldn't be out here, in the light of day, where anyone could see it.

I was still looking at it, thinking I should put it away, when Abigail came to my room.

"We need to talk," she said.

"OK," I said.

I was ready for her to say that our arrangement wasn't working any longer. I was relieved, mostly.

"It's about Rick," she said. "I think he's depressed. He's been completely down. I don't know if you've noticed."

"Last night he was crying," I said.

"Oh, no, that's absolutely awful," she said. "It's worse than I thought. We have to do something."

"What should we do?"

"I think the problem is our arrangement. He was having a lot of fun at first, but now it's just become routine."

"It's not working anymore," I said.

"Exactly. I'm so glad you agree."

"Maybe we should stop," I said.

"Well--let's not do anything drastic. At least not yet."

"What then?"

"Forgive me, Abigail. I don't want to sound mean. But you've been hanging around the house so much, and--you've kind of let yourself go. You don't ever dress up or do anything with your hair."

I felt defensive. But I knew she was right. When I had gotten up that morning, I'd just put on whatever was comfortable. I was wearing sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. I hadn't even brushed my hair, just tied it back in a messy bun.

I hadn't realized that my appearance had such a big impact. Was Rick was so turned off by me that I'd driven him to tears?

"Do you think it matters?" I asked. "I mean, he doesn't even look at me, really, when we're... you know."

She nodded. "It makes a big difference. He needs to get excited beforehand. He just needs that spark, you know? The spark comes from you. You need to feel good about yourself, and then Rick will feel it, too."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'll make myself more presentable."

"Thank you, Abigail. But I think we need a little more than that."

"Like what?"

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Rick

loves

your body."

I swallowed.

"So..." she prompted.

"So... I should... show it off more?"

She gasped. "I

love

that idea!"

"But--you

want

him to look? I thought you said--you didn't want us to do any foreplay or anything." I was so confused.

"It's called teasing him, silly. He can look but he can't touch. It'll make you feel confident and sexy. You just need to wear something... let's see..."

She stood up and went to my closet. She started looking through the clothes hanging there.

"No... no... no," she said, swiping between the hangers. "I don't think any of these are right. I'll be right back."

She walked down the hall to her own bedroom. She was back a moment later.

"Here," she said. She handed me a dress. "I haven't worn this in a while. I think it will work."

I recognized it, a pink off-the-shoulder mini dress that I hadn't seen her wear in a long time.

"That's way too small for me," I said.

"Just try it."

I went to the bathroom to try it on. I took off my bra and hung it on the doorknob. It wasn't the kind of dress you wore with a bra.

I shimmied the dress over my head, wriggling to pull it down it over my ample hips. The fabric was elastic all over, but my curves stretched the poor dress to its limits. It did fit--just barely--but it was too short, too snug, and too revealing. If I pulled the bodice up high enough to contain my breasts, then it didn't cover my ass completely. But if I tugged it down to cover my ass, my tits threatened to burst out. It looked obscene.

"It looks great on you!" Emily said when I stepped out of the bathroom.

"I feel ridiculous," I said.

"You don't look ridiculous. You look beautiful."

I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to see what she saw. But all I could see was how exposed and vulnerable I looked.

"Are you sure?" I said. "It's way too small for my boobs. Look how much cleavage I'm showing. And it barely even covers my butt."

"Nonsense," Emily said. "It's fucking sexy! You should wear it tonight. Now for your shoes. I was thinking these."

Then I saw what she had put out on the bed. It was the shoebox holding my shoes--the clear stripper heels--the ones I wore when I fantasized about Penny.

"Wh-where did you get those?" I said.

"They were right here," she said. "Under the bed. Are you saving them for a special occasion?"

"N-no, it's just--I haven't really worn them very much," I said. I couldn't let her know that I only wore them when I masturbated. So I put them on the floor and stepped into them while she watched. I felt very precarious. "I'm not used to shoes this high."

"You'll get used to them," she said. "Do a twirl."

I turned in place, feeling very self-conscious.

"Hell yes!" she said, clapping her hands. "Holy shit, you look

amazing

."

"Really?"

"Trust me."

I wasn't sure if this was the right solution for Rick's depression, but I didn't want to disappoint her. And the only way to get used to it was to try.

She said I was beautiful. She said I was sexy. I tried to focus on that. I put on a brave face.

"OK," I said. "I guess I'll wear this tonight."

She smiled. "I knew you would."

***

By the time Rick got home, I had done my hair and even put on a little makeup. Emily helped me. It was fun, in a way. It was almost like we were getting ready for a girls' night out.

When Rick walked in, I was in the kitchen, taking dinner out of the oven. He did a double take when he saw me. I gave him a shy smile.

We sat at the table while we ate and talked about normal things. No one said anything about the way I was dressed, but the tension was so palpable.

Rick couldn't keep his eyes off me all evening. He kept staring at my cleavage and at my bare legs and my shoes. I could see by the thick bulge in his pants that he was getting more and more turned on by the minute.

When he got up to go to the bathroom, I said, "You were right. He seems a lot happier already."

But Emily seemed alarmed. "We have a big problem," she said. "That dress rides up. I can see your panties."

"Oh no!" I said. "I told you it was too short. I'll go change!"

She seemed to consider my words.

"

Or

..." she said. She let it hang there.

"Should I... take off my panties?"

"Wow," she said. "What an amazing idea!"

"But then he'll see everything!" I said.

"It'll drive him wild."

"Are you sure?"

"Do it quick," she said. "Before he gets back."

I hesitated for a moment. Did this make any sense? Wasn't it more embarrassing for Rick to see my pussy than just my underwear? But she wasn't giving me time to argue. I reached under the dress and slipped off my panties. I felt a rush of excitement. I flashed back on our trip to Reno, how I'd taken off my panties there, and how wrong that had gone.

"Give them to me!" she said. She balled them up and shoved them in her pocket, just as Rick was returning to the table.

He didn't seem to notice anything different, but I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I couldn't believe I was just sitting at the table like this. The dress felt so much shorter without my panties on.

After dinner, we sat on the couch and watched TV.

I sat between them, with Rick on my right side, and Emily on my left. I kept my legs pressed together and tugged the dress down as best I could. But the hem just barely covered my pussy. I felt certain that Rick must have caught a glimpse.

It was strange to feel so embarrassed when Rick and I had already been so intimate. But this was different. Up until know he had only seen my ass, really, and always in a dark room, with the covers partly over me.

Every time Rick brushed against me or touched me, I felt a jolt of electricity. The bulge straining in his jeans seemed bigger than ever, if possible. I knew that he wanted me. I knew that he didn't want to wait until bedtime.

I was craving him now, too. I wished he would take his cock out of his pants. I wanted to sit on his lap and bury it in my ass. I clamped my legs together and tried to contain myself.

I imagined pulling my dress up and presenting myself to him. What would he do if I spread my legs here on the couch, and let him how wet I was? What would he do if I got on my knees and leaned over the ottoman in front of him? I wouldn't say a word, I'd just show him my bare ass and my wet pussy and I'd wait. He would get on his knees behind me and take me, I knew he would.

But what would Emily do? I was so scared she'd be angry. Rick and I had always kept our activity confined to my room in the dark. Those were Emily's conditions. But she also seemed to be pushing us together. I was more confused than ever.

When the TV show was over, I said goodnight to them both and hurried to my room.

I used the lube and prepared my ass for him.

I got on the bed, still wearing Emily's tiny dress and my heels. I didn't lie on my stomach, like I always did, half-covered by the sheets. Instead, I got on my knees, with my head down on the bed, and my ass up in the air, facing the door. I even left the lamp on.

My ass was the first thing he saw when he walked in. I heard him gasp. He was out of his clothes in record time. In another moment he was on the bed behind me and his cock was buried inside me. We groaned and grunted together like animals.

"Yes! Yes!" I remember shouting. I knew Emily would hear me, but I was beyond caring.

***

It was a weekday, and Rick and Emily were both at work. I was on a stepladder, dusting, when the doorbell rang.

When I opened the door, Darcy was standing on the porch.

"Darcy! How did you know where I live?"

"You said you were staying with Emily. It wasn't too hard to find her." She looked at me. "Abigail... why are you dressed like that?"

Emily had very generously bought me a whole collection of new dresses. This one was light blue, and it was just as short and tight as the rest. I was also wearing the clear heels. This was how I always dressed around the house now. I realized it must look weird to Darcy, but I couldn't think of any way to explain it. She wouldn't understand. And one of Emily's rules was that I couldn't tell anyone.

"I'm sorry I didn't respond to your texts," I said. "I've just been busy."

"Busy? Busy with what?" she asked.

"Just... helping out around the house," I said. "There's a lot to do."

"Look, I'm just really worried about you. You can talk to me, you know."

"I'm fine--really," I said. "Just busy, that's all."

"I know what Emily's doing," she said. "This is all her fault. She's making you dress like this. She won't let you get a job."

"I'm

looking

for a job! It's just taking longer than I thought."

"She uses people. I tried to warn you. She does these things for fun, just to see if she can get away with it."

I wasn't going to listen to any more of this.

"That's enough, Darcy. I'll be fine, I promise." I started to close the door.

"Listen! She sent Greg--"

I shut the door.

She rang the bell again and knocked a few times but I didn't open the door. I peeked through the curtain and watched her linger on the porch until she finally left.

***

Why did Darcy hate Emily so much? It made no sense.

She does these things for fun, just to see if she can get away with it.

What was Darcy talking about? What things?

But Emily herself had said something similar, back in Reno. She said she'd once made two guys kiss each other, just to see if they would.

She does these things for fun.

That kept echoing in my head as I thought of all I had been through lately.

Emily made me sunbathe nude.

Emily made me get a lap dance.

Emily made me have anal sex with Rick.

Emily made me dress like this.

But then I remembered something else. I don't know where the memory came from, or why I hadn't thought of it in so long.

It had happened years ago. Was it in college? Or sometime after?

There had been a party. I'd had too much to drink. Darcy walked me outside to get some air. I'd been upset. I was sobbing, actually. I told Darcy everything. I told her I felt about Emily, how badly I wanted to be with her. Darcy had listened, hugged me, held me while I cried.

Then she tried to kiss me.

I'd pulled away immediately. "Darcy! What are you doing?"

Was that when we stopped talking? For some reason, I'd blocked it out until now. But that was why Darcy didn't like Emily. It was so obvious. Emily hadn't done anything wrong.

Darcy was just jealous.

***

The dresses Emily wanted me to wear weren't very practical for cleaning. Practically every time I would bend over or reach for something, one or both of my tits would pop out and I would have to stop what I was doing and adjust.

Today I was deep-cleaning the kitchen, and the dress I was wearing was yellow with little white polka dots. I had removed everything from the counters and was scrubbing every surface with a dish towel. I was bent over, scrubbing the counter, and for once my tits had stayed put. But the dress had ridden up in the back and my bare ass was completely exposed. I had tugged it back down a few times already but had let it go for the moment while I cleaned.

Emily was sitting at the kitchen table reading a magazine and ignoring me. I heard the front door open and Rick walked in behind me. I felt him freeze when he saw me bent over like that. I could feel his eyes on my bare ass. I knew that he was turned on by the sight. I expected him to linger there where he could watch me clean. But he surprised me by leaving almost immediately. He walked past me through the kitchen and went upstairs.

I kept moving the rag over the counter, and then Rick reappeared behind me, his hands on my hips. I gasped in surprise. He leaned his weight against me, sandwiching me between himself and the counter. I could feel his cock pressing through his jeans. He fumbled with his belt.

I realized then why he had left. He had gone to my room to get the bottle of lubricant. In another moment his familiar girth was sliding into me. My ass again. Always my ass.

The high clear heels made me the perfect height for him. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the counter. He began building his rhythm, and my body was responding. My hips moved to meet his. He groaned aloud as he slid in and out of me. I had learned his rhythms and knew he wouldn't last long this time. This time he would leave me frustrated. When he finished I would have to sneak away and bring myself some relief.

Emily spoke again. "When you're done with that, can you clean the fridge?"

"Y-yes," I said.

I clenched the wet dishcloth in my hands harder, my knuckles standing out, water streaming over my fingers. My slippery anus clutched at Rick's thrusting cock, trying to hold him inside me. He gripped my hips hard. He was approaching his climax. I braced myself against the counter. He tensed up, straining--and then--with a shudder, he emptied his cock inside me.