A New Way of Seeing Things

A continuation of the previous night's activities was out of the question after the early morning phone call that gave Tim and Gwen exactly three hours advance notice of Katherine Deanna's impending arrival.

Their youngest daughter had received the unexpected gift of some weekdays off from the resort in Gulf Shores she was working at during Summer Break, and a trip home to see family, horse, and friends was her choice on how to spend them. The excited college student was already on the road when she called with the news, sending her parents into panicked preparations, hurriedly stocking the refrigerator and making Sunday dinner plans for the entire family.

Gwen's next three days were filled with KD's comings and goings interspersed with rides up the ridge line with both daughters. She was extremely happy to have things the way they had been when the girls were in high school, again able to lock away the feelings that had awoken over the past few weeks in favor of a return to active motherhood, even reverting to full nightgowns at bed time, much to Tim's chagrin. Sex was also on lockdown with the knowledge that her daughter was "in the next room". Of course, asking KD about the nightie in her dresser was just not possible, Gwen telling herself that she "didn't want to create tension in the house."

It was with a heavy heart that Gwen watched her daughter's little SUV pull out of the yard under darkening skies Thursday morning. She had promised at least one more visit before school started, and her mother intended to hold her to that promise.

A steady rain had started by the time the last of the trucks had returned that evening. A swim was out of the question, and dinner and TV served as the Nelsons entertainment that night. Both were in bed by 9, Gwen switching back to her t-shirt in the hopes Tim might catch the hint and ravish her, but he was asleep soon after sliding under the covers. Gwen berated herself for reverting to her depraved thoughts so soon after her daughter's departure.

The dream returned that night. She was again on her hands and knees, a leather collar about her neck with a lead trailing off behind her, held by someone she could not identify. Again the naked men were all about her, pointing and referring to pieces of paper they held in one hand while fondling their impossibly large packages with the other. She made sure to keep her legs apart as much as possible to afford them a view to her most private parts and encourage their self-pleasuring, but the riding crop poked and prodded anyways.

"Folks, please direct your attention to the center ring," a deep voice boomed over a loudspeaker from somewhere in the darkness behind the ring of spectators. "Our next item up for bid is an older female in excellent health and physical shape. She's 44, very mild-mannered and trainable but ridden very sparingly—all the important parts are almost like new, I'd wager," the voice announced to scattered laughter. "Two children, so the plumbing works, but she's really only been used for selective breeding and farm work. Bidding starts at 7,000, do I have 7,000?"

"10,000," came a woman's call from her left. She knew the voice without looking. Miss Else Ritter had placed a bid on her student.

Gwen awoke from the dream, heart pounding wildly. Revulsion and shame mixed with adrenaline and arousal. A quick glance at the clock showed 4am, and she knew she would be getting no more sleep that night. With a sigh, shaking hands reached for her robe and the tormented woman headed for the kitchen.

Tim found her at the table when he arose at 6, sipping coffee and staring out the window at the driving rain. "Missing KD?"

"Uh-huh," she answered truthfully. If he chose to believe that was the reason for her early rising, all the better.

"Maybe we can take a trip down there sometime in the next few weekends and surprise her," he offered as he kissed the top of her head.

"That'd be nice."

Trucks were loaded under cover that morning, and Gwen was already worrying about her scheduled ride with Natalie later. The weather was definitely not cooperating; would they have to cancel? She wasn't sure she wanted to talk about the evolution of her twisted dreams and what they meant for her mental health, but she wanted the opportunity should she find the courage. She also just liked the idea of having a friend nearby, the novel concept of a trusted confidante comforting.

The phone rang. "Hey Gwen, it's Nat.".

"Hi there," Gwen replied, trying to match the other woman's enthusiastic greeting.

"So, it doesn't seem like good riding weather today," she began. Gwen's heart sank at the prospect at what she knew was coming. "But I was thinking," her sister-in-law continued, "that maybe you'd like to come over here for lunch today. You've been so nice, letting me ride and use your pool, and it's probably my turn to host Girl's Day, anyways."

"I'd love to, if it's not too much trouble," Gwen answered quickly.

"Great! C'mon down about 11. I really want to hear how the Chamber of Commerce dinner went, and I heard KD was in town."

Gwen arrived 5 minutes early. Her brother's house was only 3 streets over from her parent's home, and while it didn't follow the same pattern of opulent overstatement the small mansions in this part of town were famous for, she had to admit it was a quite a bit more elegant than her own ranch house. Gwen laughed. Here was Natalie, living in a house she probably never could have dreamed of growing up, while Gwen lived in a home her parents definitely never imagined for their daughter. And yet, both women seemed happy with how their lives had taken each other's track. Natalie was standing at the door as Gwen came up the walk.

"C'mon in," the blonde called as she opened the door. The women hugged and moved through the hallway to the kitchen. "Thought we'd eat in the sunroom," Natalie offered. "The dining room is just too damn formal."

"Where are the kids?"

"Annie's at work, and Tyler's at his friend's house playing video games. Just us to bust up the place.

The women chatted while they prepared the meal, a bottle of wine split between them while the rain pounded on the glass roof of the solarium beyond the breakfast bar. They ate a little, and talked a lot. Gwen was pouring her second glass when a brief image of being naked and on display flashed unbidden into her waking thoughts, the Slut laughing on her shoulder at the perverted memory, and she impulsively decided she had to ask her sister-in-law about the potential warning signs of the dream. "Natalie, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Gwen's mouth opened, but now the troubling question stuck in her throat . Despite her worries, it was just too sick a dream to admit having. A wife and mother, leashed and on all fours like an animal? Absolutely disgusting! In a panic, knowing Natalie was waiting for something of importance, the struggling woman seized on an only slightly-less embarrassing topic. Nervously scanning the room for eavesdroppers, she kicked herself for saying anything in the first place as the words tumbled out. "How did you learn how to, umm, kiss a man...down there?" Gwen buried her face in her hands. "Gawd, I'm so sorry," she said in muffled tones, "that's such an inappropriate thing to ask your sister-in-law."

Natalie laughed. "Asking me to spend the day at the Country Club alone with your mother is inappropriate. This, not so much." She spoke in a thoughtful tone, as though her mind was elsewhere. "I think the first couple of boys were just so happy to be having something—anything--done to their dicks that they probably wouldn't have complained if I had been leaving bite marks. So, I guess you can call them my practice dummies. Then there was one guy who liked to talk when I was blowing him, so I got some good direction there, and...well, my roommate gave me some tips, too." Her attention returned to the mortified woman across from her. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason..."

"Thinking of giving it a try?"

Gwen blushed. "Well, I kind of already did...I kissed Tim...the other night, and used my tongue too," she added hurriedly. "He seemed to like it, but I'm not sure if he was just being nice..."

Natalie laughed. "I don't think I ever met a man who would let you do that just to be nice. Did he get off?"

Gwen initially thought that Natalie might be asking if Tim had been on top of her, but realized she meant something else. "He did," she volunteered, unwilling to share just how he had done so.

"What'd you think of the taste?"

Gwen blushed furiously, now fully understanding her sister-in-law's line of questioning. "Oh God, no, I didn't let him...finish that way--I didn't even put him all the way in my mouth. You don't let men do that, do you?" She cringed at the boldness of her question, already guessing the answer and knowing that the only man that might be afforded that opportunity was Gwen's brother.

"Sure, why not? Doesn't do much for me, but most guys act like you've given them a precious gift. It doesn't taste like much, maybe a little bleachy and salty, and the stuff they eat and drink can have an effect, too. Coffee makes it more bitter, fruit juice can make it sweeter." Gwen looked to the nearby refrigerator and thought of the three cartons of orange juice she knew were on the door, then averted her eyes. "Give it a try next time. I'll bet Tim goes nuts. If you don't want to swallow, spit it out in the sink or let it run right back down their cock. Most guys are appreciative of the fact you let them cum in your mouth whether you swallow or not. There's not nearly as much cum as it feels like when it's in your mouth...so, did he return the favor?" The confused look on Gwen's face made it clear she didn't understand. "Did he go down on you?"

"Oh no, I would never ask him to do that!"

"Why not? What's good for him is good for you. Some guys need some encouragement and coaching, but once they get a clue, it feels really, really good. Like, orgasm good."

"I know how good it feels," Gwen answered defensively. "It's just not right for a woman to ask a man to do that."

Natalie eyed her sister-in-law suspiciously. There was something more to that last comment... Finally, she rose. "Stay right there—I got something for ya," she called out as she left the room, only to reappear a moment later holding a cardboard box. Natalie gently put it in front of her sister-in-law. "For you."

"What is this?" Gwen cried with surprise, examining the box for clues.

"For you," Natalie repeated. "For opening up. I know how hard that was for you to talk about things, and I want you to know how honored I am that you trusted me enough to do that. It kinda validates me as a caring human being, y'know?"

Gwen's eyes misted. "I should be thanking you for listening and not telling the whole world, or telling me I'm insane."

"I think you are a product of your environment, and I think you've taken the first steps to changing what you are and aren't. Maybe this gift will help," Natalie said with a half-smile. "Open it."

Gwen used a nearby butter knife to slice open the cellophane tape holding the box flaps together before folding them back. On top of the protective packaging lay a small catalog from a company called Sensual Sensations, and although the cover design did not give any clue as to what may be inside, the name itself gave Gwen pause. Carefully she removed the paperwork and reached for the first foam-wrapped package, shooting Natalie a quick questioning glance. The only response she got was a raised eyebrow and a nod to return her attention to the package in her hand. Gently, she unrolled the wrapping from the long rectangular box.

The picture on the side showed a long white handle topped by a tennis-ball like powder blue dome. Gwen knew what it was.

"That's a Magic Wand," Natalie offered helpfully. "It's a kind of vibrator. Very powerful, probably because it's a plug-in rather than battery. If I want to rub one out quickly, that's my go to."

"Oh, my," her sister-in-law replied as she nervously looked around for anyone who might have walked in unannounced. "Thank you." She delicately put the instrument on the table and reached for her glass of wine before taking the next item out of the cardboard container. It was smaller than the first box, but similarly shaped. Again she unrolled the foam, this time finding a picture on the packaging of a translucent blue phallic-shaped object. Small white ball bearings circled the ridge behind a stylized penis head at one end, and what looked to be a pair of rabbit ears projected from midway down the stalk. A white handle, complete with several slider controls, capped the other end.

"A rabbit," Natalie pronounced. "Just like my blue bunny. It vibrates, and those little white balls go round and round when you put it in you, and the rabbit ears line up with your clit. It's like the Swiss Army Knife of vibrators."

"Again, thank you," Gwen said, more than a little flustered. "But you really shouldn't have."

"There should be one more thing in there," Natalie said, ignoring her protests.

Gwen reached in to retrieve the last item, surprised by its weight, already surmising what it might be based on how her fingers gripped the hard plastic shell that seemed to encase it. Removing it from the foam sleeve confirmed her suspicion, but she was still a little taken back at the size, girth and heft of the chocolate colored rubber penis and testicles she held in her hand. The object was incredibly large—as big as the penises she had imagined in her dreams—and Gwen wanted to doubt it could fit inside any normal woman, although she knew the truth.

"Your very own Mr. Majestic," Natalie said. "I wasn't sure if you were into the whole BBC thing, but I know Adam loves how mine contrasts with my skin."

"The BBC?" Gwen asked, unaware that British TV was known for the weapon she held in her hands.

"Big Black Cock. Kind of a popular fantasy, especially down here in the South I'd bet. So big, so taboo..." her sister-in-law giggled.

"Thank you, I really don't know what to say," Gwen stammered, gently putting the massive log back in the box before rising to hug her sister-in-law. "I'm really touched that you would go through all this effort for me."

"Fifteen minutes on a website is no effort at all," Natalie laughed. "And there should be a DVD in there as well to show you how to use and care for them."

"Oh, I know all about that," Gwen quickly answered before snapping her mouth shut.

"How do you know?" Natalie asked slowly. "I thought you didn't have any toys of your own."

The brunette turned pale, unable and unwilling to fabricate a lie to explain away her slip of the tongue, tears welling in her eyes. Natalie instantly regretted her line of questioning and rose to hug her. "Hey, I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. Never mind what I said. It's none of my business. You don't have to answer to me for anything."

Gwen accepted the hug and returned it. "I don't have anything...like this," she sniffled while pointing at the box. A great urge to uncage the specter of a dirty, dark secret she had locked away all of these years swept over her. I don't know if we'll be able hide it away again, the Lady counseled ominously, but the distraught woman impulsively decided to take that risk. "Natalie, there is something I haven't told you, something I've never told anyone. Well, Tim knows a little, "she corrected, "but not the whole story. If I told you, would you promise not to tell anyone else, not even Adam?"

"You know anything you say is safe with me," she said gently as she soothed the sobbing woman. "But you don't need to talk about it if it's too painful. I understand and won't bring it up again."

"No, no, I want to get this off my chest—I need to finally tell someone. I've kept this a secret for so long. I want you to know how...why I think I might be the way I've been lately, why I think I'm mentally ill and need help."

Natalie retrieved a box of tissues from the counter and set it on the table before sitting down and putting her hand over her sister-in-law's. "Take your time. You're not ill, you're human, even though sometimes I think you like to pretend you're not."

Gwen straightened and wiped her eyes and nose, then took a deep breath and a healthy gulp of wine. Looking into her glass, she began in a low tone.

"Natalie, I'm not sure how much Adam told you about what it was like growing up in our house. My parents had our lives pretty well planned out for us. John and Adam would become lawyers and join the firm, and me, well, I'm pretty sure what they had in mind for me was the all-girls private school they sent me to, followed by three years at my mother's alma mater getting a degree I would never use, then married off to one of the junior partners at the firm in some sort of political alliance to produce lawyer babies and continue the bloodline while I helped my mother plan her next big social event.

Well, first John disappointed them by getting his degree and taking a position with that firm in Seattle, and then me...the summer after I graduated high school I saw a job opening posted at the riding stables I took lessons at. They were looking for a stablehand, so I applied without telling my parents and got the job. My mother and father were appalled when they found out! Imagine their daughter shoveling manure, what would their friends think, but they indulged my whim, probably thinking I would see how hard real work was and come crawling back home to get back in their good graces.

Natalie, I loved the job! It didn't pay much, but I was around horses all day, I had my own little room in the bunkhouse, and I had a car my father had given me to come home in when I came to my senses. I was independent for the first time in my life!

Well, about a month after I started, I got promoted to Riding Instructor. The job came with more money and a tiny studio apartment that overlooked one of the indoor riding arenas. I was in heaven! Of course, I didn't tell my parents about my promotion—I was afraid they might make me leave, or make things so unpleasant for the folks who owned the stables that they would fire me.

A week after I started teaching, my boss, Miss Ritter, was waiting for me after I had finished with a pre-teen dressage class. I was in awe of this woman! She was Austrian, I would guess in her mid-thirties, about 6 feet tall with long blonde hair that she wore in a tight braid, very formal with perfect posture and never a smile. The stablehands called her the 'Prussian Princess' and 'Nordic Nutcracker' behind her back. I think even the owners were afraid of her-- Miss Ritter had been on two Austrian National teams by the time she was my age, and was so highly thought of as an instructor and brought in so much income from private lessons with riders from around the world that they pretty much let her do whatever she wanted.

She said, 'Miss Curran, your teaching skills are sufficient for little girls whose fathers have more money than sense, but you will need another level of expertise altogether to instruct those who know which end of a horse the bit belongs in. You will come to my apartment at 7 o'clock tonight to begin your training. As I'm sure you are aware, I despise tardiness.' She didn't even give me a chance to answer, just turned on her heel and strode off. I was stunned—I was going to get private instruction from one of the best riders in the world!

I ran from my last lesson to her apartment and got there one minute early. I heard her say 'enter!' as soon as I knocked.

I opened the door and looked in. She had a very orderly one-bedroom apartment with a balcony that looked out on the riding ring and across to my apartment window at the other end of the building. Miss Ritter was sitting behind a desk off to my right. 'You are on time, a promising start,' she said without looking up from her paperwork. Her pen stopped moving and she looked up at me. 'But you stink, girl!' she said. 'A day with horses in this ungodly heat makes you offensive to my senses! You must bathe before we begin your lesson!'