Part Three: Breaking Free
I. The New Neighbours
To show your true devotion, offer him other cunts to fuck, younger cunts, prettier cunts, cunts you yourself desire
Sir William Carrington, Advice to Wives, Maxim 8
i. The Creepy Younger Sister
Jemima pressed her ear to her bedroom wall and strained to listen to the sounds coming from the other side. It was wrong, she knew, and not a little creepy. Certainly, if she thought anyone ever eavesdropped on
her
, she would be mortified, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to know, no she
needed
to know, what Jamie was getting up to with Olivia Hendry. The girl from next door was impossibly pretty and ridiculously sexy, and how her nerd of a brother had ever persuaded her into his bedroom, she couldn't imagine. She wished there was a peephole in the wall. Her mom thought she was jealous of Olivia, and she had played along with that so that she wouldn't guess the truth; It was Jamie she was jealous of. She
really
wanted to see Olivia naked.
There was no such peephole, but the wall was thin enough that she could hear Olivia's whimpers and sighs, and now she could hear her brother's grunts, and the slapping of flesh on flesh. In her mind's eye she could see Olivia on her hands and knees while Jamie knelt behind her, thrusting his cock in and out of her dripping, wet pussy... She had to stifle a sigh herself, as she slipped one slim-fingered hand inside her jeans, inside her knickers... She wasn't the least bit surprised to find herself wet. She was so turned on, imagining what was going on, on the other side of her bedroom wall, and she couldn't have said whether it was the thought of her brother's cock or Olivia's pussy that had her the most turned-on. Either way, it was so wrong it was gloriously right. Their breathing was becoming more rapid, their sighs and cries louder, and she knew they were both approaching climax. She flicked at her clit and bit hard on her lip, knowing that within a few minutes she too would be well on her way to orgasm, albeit a self-induced one. Eighteen years old, she had never been so much as kissed, let alone fucked, but in her fervid imagination all
kinds
of dirty things had happened to her.
There was a long, male groan, and a series of female whimpers and exclamations. Jemima fought the urge to whimper herself as her fingers did their noble work in her knickers. With the aural show over, she threw herself on the bed and frigged herself with rapid urgency until she came with body-wracking shudders. And there it would have ended had she not, emerging from the rapture of orgasm, heard the two of them talking.
"Did I live up to expectations?" she heard Olivia laugh.
"You're a goddess!" her brother replied, provoking Jemima to make vomit gestures as she got off the bed and again pressed her ear to the wall.
"You're not so bad yourself!"
"I can't believe I have a goddess living next door to me! What did I do to deserve that?"
"Oh come on, Jamie. You're totally used to living around hot women! You have a hot mom and a hot sister, after all."
That gave Jemima a jolt. Olivia thought she was hot? Or was she just being nice?
"Well that may be true, but I'm not likely to do the same things with them that I've just done with you now, am I?"
"Aren't you?"
"Are you kidding me?"
She heard Olivia laugh. "Lots of boys fancy their sisters, or their moms. Or haven't you ever watched Porn Hub? You'll at least admit they
are
hot."
Jemima listened for the answer with bated breath, but none came. Perhaps he'd just shrugged or nodded or something. That would be just like him!
"Well now, how about you come to mommy..."
Jesus
! thought Jemima.
This bitch is utterly shameless.
For a while, there was silence, or maybe whispers she couldn't hear, but before too long the bedsprings were creaking, and Olivia's whimpers resumed.
ii. A Righted Wrong
"Need my strong, dominant man. Come round this p.m."
Will received the text on Saturday morning and immediately showed it to Anna. "What should I do?"
Anna put a hand on his thigh, stroking it through his jeans. "I should think a strong, dominant man would
know
what to do. And he'd do it."
"You're OK with this?"
She smiled at him. She could never have explained to anyone else just why this turned her on so much, because she didn't really understand why herself. She only knew it did. The profound submissiveness in her soul rose to the surface, caressing and seducing her. "It doesn't matter whether I'm OK with it or not, master," she said. "You may do as you please. It's not for me to question."
Will sighed. "If the kids weren't home, I'd tie you to the bed while I went round there," he said. Without another word, he texted a quick reply, while she watched him over his shoulder.
"I'll come whenever the fuck I like, bitch."
Anna grinned and nodded her approval. "That'll make the slut cream her knickers," she opined, and this earned her a slap across the face.
"Don't be impudent! Just for that, I forbid you to play with yourself while I'm round there. You can think about it all you like, but you'd better not lay a single finger on your own cunt until I get back. Understand?"
She hung her head. "Yes, master. I'm sorry, master."
"You should be. You have to learn to be humble. I won't have insolence from my bitches."
"No, master."
He was gone for two or three hours, though it felt much longer to Anna, who had to lie there, fantasising about what he was up to with Isobel Carrington, forbidden from touching herself. She could have ignored his instructions, of course, he would never even know. But that would have spoiled the game. No, not a game. She
was
his slave, so long as he wished her to be. God, why did that turn her on so much? She longed for him to come back into the room and ravish her on the bed. Maybe she would even pretend not to want it. Jesus! What was wrong with her? Yet it didn't feel like anything was wrong. Not anymore. The
wrong
was all those years when she had suppressed what she really was.
When he finally returned, there was something in his eyes that she had never seen before. Something self-satisfied, something self-confident, something
commanding
. She looked at him, voicing no question but asking with her eyes. He simply sneered at her and said, "Spread your legs, bitch!"
When he fucked her, it was hard and hungry, as if he were not so much making love to her as making hate. He pounded her so violently, she imagined she would be sore for a week, yet it was the best thing she had ever experienced. Nor did she lie there passively but clawed and raked at his arms and back as he ravished her. Before he had finished, they were both panting and sweating with the exertion of it, and she had come three or four times.
He fell asleep soon afterwards, and she sloped off to shower. When she came back, she stood in the doorway, watching him, adoring him, and constructing in her imagination, yet again, all the things he must have done with Isobel Carrington. It was the next morning before he was finally ready to tell her about it, and she sat in rapt, respectful attention as he narrated the previous day's events.
"I rang the bell," he told her, "knowing that she was waiting for me. Except it wasn't Isobel who answered the door, it was Olivia. Jesus Christ, that girl's hot, especially because she was dressed in nothing but a flimsy shift. Her hair was rumpled, as if she'd just got out of bed. There was something in her eyes, some cross between mischief and excitement. God, if Jamie's really hitting that, he's a lucky boy! She told me her 'Aunty Izzy' was expecting me. The way she said it suggested that she
knew
what I was there for.
"She showed me into the living room, where Isobel was waiting for me, sitting cross-legged on a padded chair, which struck me as odd when she had an entire, luxurious three-piece suite to choose from. She invited me to sit down. Olivia came back soon afterwards with a glass of wine each for the two of us, then she left. Went upstairs, I think. Isobel raised her glass to me, and we both drank."
Anna was careful not to interrupt, though she already had a dozen questions circulating in her brain. But she could be patient. It was fairly clear that Will had no intention of missing out a single detail.
"'She's a good girl,' she said. 'Well, actually, she's not a good girl at all, but I'm awfully fond of her.' I asked her in what way Olivia was not good. That made her smile, and I think you know how dirty Isobel's smile can be. Then she said something curious. She said, 'Like me, Olivia carries the Carrington Gene'. I asked what that was, exactly. She said that, as its name implied, it was something hereditary to members of the Carrington family, an urge for sex and deviancy'. I said that was an odd thing for an aunt to say about her niece, but she looked at me as if to say, 'well, that kind of proves my point, doesn't it?' She said Olivia had inherited it from her mother, and that both Olivia's mother and Isobel herself had inherited it from both of their parents. She drained her glass, and I drained mine as if we had simultaneously decided that that was enough conversation, and it was time to get down to business.
"I asked her what she expected from me, and she said 'I expect you to do to me exactly what you want to. And I expect I'll let you.' I did a double-take at that, but she just shrugged. She said, 'I'm a Carrington', as if that explained everything. So, to test whether what she said was true, I told her to get undressed and kneel at my feet. You won't be surprised to learn that she did exactly that. And my God, the woman is hot. I mean, you might think she looks hot fully clothed but naked..."
"I wish I could see that," said Anna, speaking for the first time.
