A Study In Fragrance Pt 12

She woke up, looking at the dawn seeping through her parents' skylight. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten to bed, her last memory, the shower streaming down through her bush. And then toweling, and then...nothing. Not even a shred of a dream. But when she moved, yesterday's spanking brought her wide awake, her fingers darting to between her legs, her lips stinging slightly as she felt herself. It was about 6:30 she figured, based on the light, but her phone surprised her: 7:17. Had she slept 10 hours? More?

Hmmmm. Amazing.

The stinging from her fingers was annoying, but she needed to...

you can't cum!!!

The edging. She hadn't felt aroused when she first woke up, but now, remembering how close she'd come last night, her clit throbbed. Her thoughts, calm when coming out of sleep, were speeding up, like a hummingbird, pausing, dwelling on the stinging, then flitting to yesterday's spanking and how he'd changed her, how she'd given in to the fantasy.

I'm his cunt.

The thought shamed her, pausing as the tendril pulsed, before flitting back to the day ahead.

Fuck! He's going to fuck me tonight.

But her friends were coming over

and their boyfriends are going to watch me!

If she didn't move, if she didn't stop dwelling, the black dot would grow, immobilizing her completely.

Off the bed, out of her PJs

when did I put on my pajamas???

Bathroom. Pee. Downstairs, no need for clothes. She expected Cos any time, her attention on the coffee dripping into the carafe, her fingers running across her breasts, unconsciously wandering across her lips, until their stinging woke her up. She did it twice, falling into a fugue, until she couldn't wait for her fix any longer and poured a cup, the stream hissing on the base before she re-seated the pot.

And then outside, the air fresh, promising a hot and muggy day, but right then still cool and moist. She sat on the comfy chair, the morning dew cold against her back and cheeks. She'd considered sitting on the grass to give a big 'fuck you' to the Johnson's, but shook her head, smiling at how stupid that would be. And then her heart jumped as she remembered the tendril. A quick check but it was still sleeping.

Interesting.

She imagined sitting on the grass again, naked in her backyard, sipping her coffee, exposed to the Johnson's. Their kitchen faced the other way, but the bedrooms...someone waking up could see her...but the tendril wasn't interested.

You're not embarrassed by that!

And it was true. She didn't care if she was naked outside.

No. You care. You're just not ashamed.

It's illegal.

And she smiled thinly.

Oh. Right. Illegal.

But the weird part was how used to being naked she had become. At least around the house.

Her mind settled, the caffeine rinsing her brain, her thoughts turning to the day. Cos was coming over...

but what were they going to work on?

She struggled to remember what they were doing...before...before he spanked her and promised her if she begged...before she'd become his cunt. She laughed, knowing she had broken the tendril's grip, laughed that she wasn't trapped by a word, laughed that she hadn't bothered to look at The Study, her need for coffee stronger than anything. Feeling empowered, she rolled onto her feet and traipsed up the back stairs to see where he had left it.

The back opening was blocked by the case, and she didn't want to risk pushing on it. She imagined what it would look like with Abby's things on the shelves, arranged neatly.

A shrine. A shrine to the spirit of Abby.

She smiled at the idea.

Entering her room, she realized she hadn't smelled the fragrance, relieved that closing the doors was enough to keep it from leaking into the house.

Was there any way to stop it?

Pushing her closet doors to the side, she stopped short, facing the blank back wall of her closet, only the seams showing where the door was. "Fuck me." She laughed again, seeing her vision becoming a reality. A silver square reflected at the corner. She pushed on it and the wall pushed in, the door separating at the seams, traveling an inch or so back. She pushed on it again, and it continued back and off to the side, sliding a few inches more before it stopped. She gave it another nudge and it slid all the way open.

The fragrance hit her first. She inhaled it, deeply, accepting it, unafraid even as the tendril awakened, its white bud casting, searching for her shame. But it wouldn't find any. She wasn't ashamed of what she had let him do, what she was doing with him. All of the sex she'd had for the past week squashed together, a highlights reel that sparked a different sort of need.

Caroline.

She smiled and looked around.

Nothing seemed to have changed from what she remembered the day before: the case was on its hinges, closed, the table, the chair. But then she saw the beadboard and could smell the piney aroma from the stain. Looking back she saw the closet door had been finished the same way. She looked at her phone.

8:45? Where was Cos?

Her stomach growled. Having learned nothing from her inspection about what there was to work on, she went back downstairs to think about breakfast. On the counter she saw the note.

Won't be over until after noon. Will need some help adjusting the doors - Cos

Her first reaction was irritation. If she'd known he was taking the morning off she'd have made other plans! But before her annoyance could blossom she thought again.

What am I to him? A job? A...virgin cunt.

And even though she didn't cringe at the word, the thought made her flinch. She'd given up far more the night before than she had originally imagined when she taped the video.

Can I claw back anything?

The phrase she'd heard her father use so often fit too well.

Maybe Cos doesn't feel the same way...

Maybe he'd thought what she'd said, or what she remembered she'd said, was just a part of the fantasy. And she remembered what she'd said, being his cunt, being his pussy, and the shame washed over her, from the top of her forehead down her cheeks, her chest to her gut. She wasn't embarrassed about calling her vagina a cunt. She was handling that. It was that she had declared

herself

to be

his cunt!

The tendril whipped up, the white bud opening, taunting her. What was fantasy and what had become her life? The fragrance had twisted the two together, intertwining her emotions and her thoughts. And then the worry, the black hole in the center of her core starting to twist, the swirling of her feelings threatening to feed it. "FUCKKK!" She screamed to the empty kitchen. In spite of her hunger, she knew what she had to do.

Throwing on shorts, a sports bra under a t-shirt and her running shoes, she took off for a 10 mile run. She needed to clear her head, to feel her body, to let her body take the lead.

This is what Steph needs!

And before she'd left her neighborhood it was working: the air fresh against her face, her lungs filling with oxygen feeding her blood, her legs pumping against the asphalt. She wouldn't push it, she couldn't, she realized, the burn from yesterday's practice hitting her thighs within the first mile. She kept it slow, feeling her heart barely get above her 50%, her thoughts focused on the road ahead. And she was in the zone, four miles out, looking at the park, thinking about her route. She turned onto a running trail, hoping it wouldn't be too crowded even this late on a Saturday. And then she was turning back, her body in full swing, everything working in harmony: the rhythm of her legs, her heart pumping, her lungs swelling and releasing. Thoughts bubbled up but burst and dissipated:

cunt, no fragrance no tendril, fucked...tonight, 5:17! She'd made it in less than 5:30! Witnesses, virgin cunt, botany, Abby, Caroline!

The sweet memory of pressing her lips against Caroline's clit, the water frothing around her. It wasn't the same as her dream of Abby's hot house flowers, but she smiled knowing Caroline wanted her to do it again. And she looked up to see she was approaching the final mile, her body tired but not exhausted, her legs burning but not hurting. She eased it back, feeling the sweat soaking into her bra, the air forecasting the day's heat.

Loping up the driveway, she wiped the sweat from her forehead, feeling lighter, the anxiety reduced to a black speck. Up the stairs and back to her room, when she hesitated, her t-shirt already off, ready to toss it on the floor.

I've got to clean this place up!

She twisted and tossed it in the hamper. In one fluid motion she slid her bra up and over her head, bending to drop her shorts, tossing them from her forward bend. She had a plan now and debated taking another rinse or leave the sweat to air dry.

She weighed the choice: if what Cos had planned was going be messy, she'd need to shower again later. And she needed the time to clean the place up.

No shower. Not yet.

She'd need to shower again later, before the ceremony. Even though the sky was bright blue and cloudless, the forecast predicted high 90s and humid; she'd be sweating again no matter what. The air felt fresh and cool as she turned to straighten up the mess.

In Joanie's room her clothes were tumbling off the bed. Knowing she'd find the same thing in the other rooms, she stopped to consider.

Three piles: keep, give away, throw away.

She paused.

Four piles: keep, BNL, give away, throw away.

She couldn't face doing that three separate times. It felt like doing it all at once would be easier, but where? Next to Joannie's bed was an open space, but it wasn't big enough for all of the clothes. She looked down the hallway toward the front of the stairs, calculating.

A while later she faced a massive pile of clothes and belongings from all three rooms. So many things she didn't want to part with; a shirt that carried sweet memories, a pair of shoes she really loved. She started with the stuff that was easy: things she loved in a pile toward Joanie's side of the house, things she didn't want any more, down the stairs to the landing. Anything that she couldn't decide right away stayed in the pile. She stopped when she'd sorted the easy stuff, taking a break to grab some water.

When she saw her image in the kitchen window she reflected again on how insane her life had become. Completely naked as if that was normal, declaring herself to be Cos's

cunt.

She shook her head, looking at the face staring back at her, wondering what she had gotten herself into. Being away from the fragrance helped, but it wasn't enough. She could feel the tendril stirring and knew her current equilibrium was on a knife's edge.

Back upstairs she looked at the three piles: keep, don't keep and not sure, the largest of the three. Before digging in, she did one more walk around the rooms, just to be sure she had everything. Discovering a few stragglers, and realizing her dirty clothes weren't in the mix, she debated her next steps.

Start the laundry but keep going.

It was 10:45. Her stomach was growling.

Start the laundry, eat something, then keep going.

Eggs and cheese on toast, OJ and a pot of coffee. She'd need the buzz to get through the sorting. Dishes in the sink, coffee in a commuter mug, back upstairs, shift the wash to the dry and finally back to the main pile.

Everything takes so much longer!

Now the pace slowed as she considered every item, remembering when she'd bought it, how much she had liked it, and whether she would ever wear it again. Thinking about college and whether it would just be better to buy new clothes and give these away. For everything she saved, she put three things in the giveaway, but it took forever, her attachment to the clothes so difficult to overcome. An hour later she had gone through everything. The laundry had been easiest: it was outfits she wore all the time. Four piles: throw away, the smallest, was on the stair landing. Next to it, the largest, give-away. BNL in front of Frankie's door, and the stuff she was going to keep, along the hallway. It was almost noon; Cos would be here soon.

She realized, as she stood there, that the tendril hadn't moved one way or the other. It still twisted along her spine, but it was quiet, lying in wait. Abby's fragrance was barely noticeable. She thought about what was going to happen later in the evening, and she clenched, sparking a movement in the tendril.

Shhhhh....don't think about it.

She realized she hadn't thought about her glutes, or the stinging on her labia, until that very moment. And then the equilibrium was broken: the memory of yesterday's spanking, her declaration of being his cunt, the image of the priests watching him penetrate her. She moaned, her hands rubbing lightly along her cheeks, the hunger for him to spank her again lighting up her insides.

How could she want it so badly?...

She headed back to the kitchen to get garbage bags, focusing on her breath, her heart racing, her thoughts swirling, her need to submit battling her need to be strong.

The giveaway in a bag, the throw-away in a bag and the BNL pile shoved off to the side, she kept her focus on putting away the clothes that remained. But she couldn't put anything in the closet yet, he was still working on it, and only some of what remained belonged in the drawers. Sighing, she put the stuff in the drawers and once again put everything else in Joanie's room. At least the pile was small enough to fit on the bed.

Where was Cos???

The thought flickered up even as she thought she heard the back door opening. "Cos?!"

"Hello! Yep!"

She raced downstairs, needing to feel his arms around her, to feel her arms around him. He looked up in surprise as she rushed to him, grabbing him and burying her face in his neck, inhaling his smell, feeling his hair tickling her face.

He yelped in surprise, his hands holding a workbag, laughing while he tried to not fall over. "What the fuck, Em?" He let the bag go and hugged her, turning his lips to kiss her.

She melted into him, the warmth of his kiss, his tongue, his hands pressing against the top of her butt, his callouses scratching her skin. She saw what he would do to her and she shivered, pressing herself against him, rubbing her mound against his jeans, sparks flying into her.

His hands moved up her naked back to hold her head and then he pulled away, staring at her. "You've been good?" he asked quietly, staring into her eyes.

She nodded, staring back, pressing her lips against his face in soft kisses. "Mmm hmmm. I'm being the perfect supplicant virgin cunt." She couldn't stop herself from saying it, watching the tendril pulse and settle as her shame coursed through her.

He smiled.

A-fucking-mazing.

His cock pulsed against his briefs.

Not 30 seconds in the door and she's all over me.

That she was naked he'd almost taken for granted, a thought that made him laugh.

"What?" She pulled away. "What's so funny?" She was walking the tightrope of submission and defiance, the tendril perking up even as she needed to feel his hand against her.

He nodded a little, looking up the stairs, ignoring her. "You ready to work? Or do you need to ask me something?"

How did he know? How could he know?

Her insides loosened, the need to feel her skin warmed, the way her lips swelled. Maybe it would make her cum, she hoped, clenching at the thought.

Look at what you've turned into!

She blushed at how he could read her, how quickly he had flipped the fantasy on.

"Fuckkkk, Cos," she exhaled and looked down, pulling out of their embrace. She could see his bulge and remembered she'd left him with a hard-on the evening before. "Yeah," she breathed, nodding. "I've been good..." she looked back up. "And yeah," she swallowed, staring at his face, her eyes moistening at the intensity of her feelings, "I need to feel you...feel you...spank me." The tendril thickened around her spine, the white bud buried in her head. She knew the fragrance was hiding in the room, but she could smell it even here, feeding the tendril, feeding on her shame.

Let's see how athletic she can be.

He nodded. "You zonked out last night." He grabbed the workbag with one hand, sliding the other down her waist to turn her around. "You get some sleep?" He steered her up the back stairs, his hand playing with her cheeks.

Oh fuck oh fuck.

She could feel her juices leaking already, the arousal, almost quiet the whole day returning in a rush to where he'd left her the night before. "Yeah," she breathed, her lips lighting up in anticipation. "Yeah. Went on a run, got some straightening done. What about you? Did you jack off last night thinking about fucking me tonight?" She had to take some kind of control; she couldn't just let him own her.

He grunted. Smiling at her. "Yep. I still can't believe what's going on here." At the top of the stairs he turned toward the guest bedroom. "The priests."

Just two words and she felt her body light up. She let him walk her to the room and position her on the bed, on her hands and knees facing the pillow. Moments later he was kneeling in front of her face, his cock at half mast, his smell intense and intoxicating.

"You sure this is what you want?" His hands, rough, but gentle, stroking down her back to graze across her cheeks.

He expects me to ask. Like yesterday, he expects me to beg him.

The videos flashing in her memory of women begging their partners to spank them, to fuck them, her independence and will dissolving even as the humiliation flooded through her. "Fuck, Cos! Yes...yes...I want you to spank me again, on my cheeks and on my lips, but not too hard. Please. I want to feel you fucking me tonight, I don't want to be numb when you take my virgin...cunt." She was staring at his hair, from his navel, her eyes traveling to his erection emerging from his nest of curls.

"Hmmm...okay. Shall we say 10 on each cheek and 10 on your cunt? But..." he paused, teasing her openings with his fingers, "they think it would be best if my cock was deep into your throat."

She gasped at the image: his cock shoved into her while his hands fired up her ass and pussy. "I...Cos...I don't...I can't take you that way...like this..." her voice sounded panicked. She wanted to show him she could do it, but deep throating him had been so awful.

"Mmmmhmmm. I get it." He brought his hands up along her ribs, brushing her breasts before holding her jaw and face. "As deep as you can take it. You won't have to thank me."

She grimaced at his tone. As if he was doing her a favor, but that tone spurred her to prove how far she could go.

He's playing you.

She knew it, but it didn't matter. Without thinking she rose up and tilted her head over the top of his cock, running her tongue along its length, pushing down until it was at the back of her mouth, inhaling his sweat and musk through her nose.

She could feel the air before the slap hit her skin, but it was still a surprise, the stinging forcing her to exhale around his shaft, driving it deeper into her mouth, causing her to gag. The second one came quickly, the flare of pain meeting the cramping in her stomach as his cock pushed past the entrance to her throat. She wretched, but didn't stop, knowing it would pass if she focused on her breathing. Two more slaps and she yelped in pain, the sound muffled, her lips tight around the middle of his cock, her nose pushing toward his pubic bone. She belched again, drool filling her mouth, lubricating her lips and tongue. He was getting harder. She had to adjust herself as he leaned over her, his hands spreading her legs further apart.