Impact 10 Of Revelation

This series began as a collaboration with ButteredCrumpet but beginning with this chapter the "Impact" series is a solo effort.*

TRIGGER WARNING: intense childhood memory of spanking. This flashback adds to her story in important ways.

And, for those who pay attention to such things: When Sarah is alone the story is in the past tense. When Claire and Sarah are together the story is in present tense.

Special thanks to HaltWhoGoesThere for proof reading this chapter for me - repeatedly.

Impact of Revelation

"ohfuckfuckfuckohsarahfuckareyouok?!?"

Claire is rushing to me, scrambling over the back of the sofa, her face and hair dripping wet, her eyes wide with alarm. My legs are splayed wide. Boots in the air, I'm flat on my back behind the sofa after falling backwards as I came. The thick white carpet, that the sofa sits in the middle of, took some of the impact. The deep shag pile probably stopped me from cracking my skull wide open on the ancient rough floorboards of her loft. I had been standing on the sofa when I came - I'd fallen far and landed hard.

Claire is looking down on me, her expression terrified. Randomly I find myself wondering about the ornate design of the pressed tin ceiling behind her. What had this building been? A coach works? Textile manufacturing? Brushmakers? Claire's eyes draw me back in, they are wide with alarm. I want to tell her I'm ok, but I'm still seeing stars and am too winded to breathe much less speak.

"Oh Sarah, qu'as-on fait?" Claire frets as she kneels besides me, slipping her hand under my head. "Oh shit, please tell me you're alright?"

As soon as I can gasp a little I start to laugh. Claire is clearly shocked watching me, but laughs despite herself, pulling me up in a rough embrace and kissing me. Her lips and face are slick with my cum. I've marked her.

"That was a big one," I finally rasp.

"Ah putain... you really scared me Sarah," she exhales, her voice sounds pained, breath a little shaky. Face buried in my hair, her lips next to my ear, she shivers. "You landed so hard, made such a terrible sound."

She was exploring the back of my head with her fingers.

"Tssss!" I suck air hard through my teeth as she finds the lump.

"No blood, but you're going to have a duck egg," she worries.

"Goose," I whisper, confusing her. "Goose egg."

"But you know what I mean..." she says defensively, but her voice and eyes are soft. Her fingertips are gentle, soothing me.

"I'm ok," I assure her as she helps me swing my legs down off the back of the couch, the whole time still cradling my head. Her lips and chin are wet, but face and hair are glistening with my cum as well. She sees what I'm looking at and smiles.

"It was a

very

big one," she congratulates me with a wry smile, moving a lock of wet hair away from her eyes, her other hand still cradling the back of my skull.

"Your lashes," I tell her. Reaching up to brush the drops of cum from her eyes.

She's kneeling beside me in her silk loungewear, her hair pulled back, no makeup. Even with her eyes puffy and red from crying and her face dripping cum, she looks elegant.

I, meanwhile, am sweat-damp, muscles slack and legs spread, naked except for my Come-Fuck-Mes - knee-high Nine West black leather boots with four inch stiletto heals... easily the slutiest things I own.

I feel myself flush.

But I don't feel ashamed, not exactly... or not just ashamed. The heat is rising from my core. My nipples are crinkling and growing proud. I am still wet and open and a new heat is spreading through my belly. I love her seeing me this way, naked and ready. Looking up at her, I watch as her concern changes to something hungrier. I watch her want me. I

love

that she wants me.

"My Young Sarah sprayed me."

"Yes," I murmur, remembering the ecstatic look in her eyes as I flooded her mouth. The heat in my belly is now a violent

need,

I want to grab at Claire, have to stop myself - or try to. My hands are reaching for her, I'm gripping her waist.

The need is something invisible we share - an attraction that draws my hands to her, draws her eyes to me - but right now it's tangible: a flush I can see spreading through her skin is heating mine. I must be bright red, we both are. I think of her mouth on me, of her eyes looking up at me; of her lips and tongue. I want to push myself on her. My fingers are clawing at her, pulling her to me.

She pulls back to look at me, maybe a bit surprised, but happy, or maybe something more... I feel my hips start to roll. My breast is hot, my belly burns. Her loungewear set clings to her, the gray silk pants tight on her thighs and draping off her round breasts, the points of her hard nippples are clearly visible through the thin fabric, beautiful catenaries of silk linking them.

"I could... go again," I sputter.

But as soon as I say it I picture Darci gyrating her hips at me and I feel greedy... I hadn't meant-

"...what you want?" I mumble. She's watching me, trying to understand.

"You liked that a lot I think?"

Her tone is teasing, but behind it I can see real pleasure... pride?

"Yes," I whine. I am trying and failing to keep my hips still. I'm digging my heels into the carpet, lifting my ass off the floor. "Very much, more than anything."

"Is that what you want Sarah?" she asks carefully, almost formally, watching me squirm. "You want to go again?"

"If

you

want..." I whisper, struggling not to look away, to hold her gaze - at war with myself. I'm pulling at the hem of her top like a nervous toddler, making her smile and narrow her eyes.

"I want my Young Sarah very much..." she whispers, releasing the back of my head and slowly moving down and between my legs. I want to feel her mouth again so badly, to see her look up at me as she does, but again I picture Darci.

'I'm not using Claire,' I tell myself, but I'm lifting my ass off the carpet, pushing my cunt at her mouth.

"GNN!"

The touch of her mouth, her tongue carving me in half. I want this so bad, I feel like I might explode, want to cum again for Claire, but I picture how Darci had laughed and shouted; had

used

me. I feel myself going cold, my body growing still; am afraid Claire will feel the change. She is sucking and licking me as I struggle to regain myself, regain my need, my desire.

I think of Claire touching me the night before, the way her voice shook with need as she fingered my asshole; how easy desire comes for her, how easy it is for her to want what she wants. I want that ease, to feel that uninhibited for her. I want to give her what

she

wants. Hands on the top of her head, I push her away.

Lips parted and wet, tongue out, she looks up at me, panting but confused.

"I want to give you..." I start. "I want you to have... what

you

want," I tell her. "

Everything

you want."

She gives me a confused look, my face, which was already so hot, burns now. I must be scarlet, even my shoulders and arms are prickling with the heat of making this offer. I watch Claire's expression shift, becoming something wry and crafty as she climbs over my thigh and settles herself between my legs.

"Anything?"

"

Everything

," I tell her. "Everything

you

want."

Claire looks down at me for a long moment, my heart beating in my ears. Then, staring into her eyes I lift my leg and straighten it until my boot is pointing at the ceiling next to her face. I imagine the smoking neighbor watching my come-fuck-me boot waving from behind the sofa like a Jolly Roger.

'Flag of chaos,' I think to myself, as I swing my leg over, past her face, twisting my hips and then my whole body, until I'm on my knees and lowering my face to the carpet, so my upturned asshole is pointed at Claire, my cheeks spread wide. My face is so hot I feel almost feverish. I force myself to turn and look at her, peeking over my shoulder, she's smiling.

I think of her swearing at me in French about my virgin ass in the shower; the feeling of her pushing her soapy finger into me, of squirming away... her wet little bush scraping my asshole as she fingered my pussy.

"My ass...." I tell her, my voice shaking and high.

Claire is smoothing her open palms over the cheeks of my ass. Her touch is gentle but her expression is possessive, she's licking her lips.

"I am going to fuck this ass," she'd promised me while undressing me in front of my window, the two of us still damp with sweat after dancing with the Korean girls. I tell myself that I'm ready now, that I'm not afraid. But my whole body is shaking and I can't help remembering Darci's clenched teeth, the guttural sounds she made...

I see Darci's twisted expression of anguish and her bared teeth in my mind's eye. She had been laying on top of me, our bodies slick with sweat, her face so close to mine. Kwasi had been fucking her long and hard that way, my legs spread wide and knees at my shoulders, her belly rubbing my pussy as he'd pounded her from behind. He had looked into my eyes as he shot a great rope of semen onto her back.

When I'd looked back to Darci she had seemed to know; seemed to have seen in my eyes what had passed between Kwasi and I. I had been holding onto her shoulders, but let go as she had reared up, peeling her sweaty skin away from mine, her breasts away from mine. She rolled off me and moved towards him, holding my gaze.

She was so beautiful in that moment, dark and feline. Her olive skin had shone with sweat, her muscles had stood out like an athlete's. Her pussy had been open and pink, like an obscene orchid, and so wet.

"He's not done," she had said, seeing the direction of my gaze. Then she gestured to me. "And neither are you."

I had moved towards her. I remember my head spinning, my movements disjointed and sloppy. We had all been so drunk.

She had stretched herself out across the bed on one hip, legs open and spread, reaching for his flaccid cock. Even soft, his cock had looked enormous in her hand. I'd watched it rise and lengthen as her hand squeezed and stroked, his swollen head pushing out of his foreskin.

"Come here baby," she cooed, "and lick my cunt."

I know Kwasi had been watching me too, that she had wanted him to, but all I remember was her eyes. While my eyes had felt blurry and were having trouble tracking, her eyes had been sharp and hard. And she had cooed. Her voice had been soothing and gentle, but her eyes had commanded. They glittered with something like anger. She was

ordering

me to lick her cunt.

She had started sucking Kwasi off, but her eyes had held me. As I crawled between her legs she had lifted her hips, humping the air between us. Kwasi had moaned loudly as I did as I was told, and stuck out my tongue to lick her cunt.

I remember her laughing and swearing, the wet soft feel of her wrapping my tongue. She had called me her bitch. Urged Kwasi to watch me eat her out. The wet sounds of my mouth were echoed by her jerking Kwasi off. I made a show of pushing my tongue as deep into her as I could, pushing my mouth into her, wearing her open pussy like a mask - a show of obeisance.

I remember feeling her flinch and moan with real pleasure. She had put her hand in my hair and pulled me in. I had remembered what she had told her friend in the locker room about the girl she had had a threesome with. That the girl "got

really

into it," and that she "was a fucking

natural

," she had told her friend.

I had wanted Darci to call me a natural. I had held nothing back, licking and sucking her. I had wanted her to praise me. I had been desperate to make her cum. I remember how excited I'd been as it seemed she was about to cum.

"Fuck!" she had laughed. "Look at that bitch eat my pussy."

I had looked up to see her smiling at Kwasi. She was stroking his erection that was wet with her saliva. But then she'd pulled at my hair, pulling my mouth against her clit. I'd closed my eyes and redoubled my efforts, letting the jerking of her body guide my mouth. I'd ignored the slurping wet sounds my mouth made, the indignity of my role, caring only for her pleasure. I'd nursed her clit as she came, her cries muffled by Kwasi's cock in her mouth.

I had looked up to see she was looking at him as she came, and that he was looking at me. I'd licked and sucked her until she had grown still; had licked her clean while she struggled to swallow his load. He had had his hands in her hair, holding her to him and moaning, but again, he'd been looking in my eyes as he came. When she had released him with a wet "pop" and turned to look at me her chin and lips had dripped with cum. I'd expected her to look happy and pleased, but instead she'd looked fierce, almost angry. I remember thinking I'd done it wrong.

She had moved towards me, pushing me back and climbing between my legs, pinning my wrists over my head in her hands. Holding them tight - restraining me - she'd held my gaze, her eyes glittering. She had been furious, but it was a kind of desire.

"You're not done Kwasi," she had told him, but she had said it to me, watching my eyes. I had felt her shift as she took hold of both of my wrists in one of her hands and reached back to grip the cheek of her ass and pry it open for him with the other. "I want you to fuck my ass," she'd purred.

I'd heard him grunt and suck his breath in surprise, felt him shift and grab at Darci's hips. There had been a wild urgency to it. Had watched as Darci turned back to look at him over her shoulder. We both watched as he rose up on his knees, his long thick cock pulsing back to life.

"I knew you had the good dick," she growled. Then turning to look at me, showing me how pleased she was; triumphant.

"Fuck my ass Kwasi," she told him, "while Sarah fucks my mouth."

She had stared into my eyes while Kwasi shifted between our spread legs. It had seemed an eternity for him to push his cock into her ass. Her weight had shifted forward as he had found the little passage, then pushed her harder and harder into me as he had pushed into her. Eyes pinched shut and teeth grit tight, she had whined like a kettle - a long high screech, only loud enough for me to hear. The little screech had ended with a sharp breath and a painful flinch as she'd squeezed the bones of my wrists together, grinding them with bruising force. Kwasi's bulbous head had entered her. I could feel it in her affect as clearly as if he had entered me.

Her lips had curled back in a ragged snarl. I had been scared, it had looked so painful, but her eyes had snapped open and glared at me in triumph as his shaft began to slide into her. I had felt the slow bearing down of his weight against her; her hand tightening even more painfully around my wrists. I had watched her stretch her neck as he slowly buried himself in her ass. It was almost as if she was stretching her spine, trying to make room for the thick phallus sliding painfully into her ass. I had seen the pain in her eyes, felt it in her abdomen, had known what she was feeling - or imagined I had.

She had leaned back down against me, pushing her breasts against mine, her hard nipples stabbing me. Moving to take each of my wrists in her hands again, she pinned me so he could see I was pinned. She had brought her face very close to mine, I remember listening to the little sounds she made, the quick changes in her breath as he forced his way into her rear passage. Then a look of wild abandon as she'd opened her mouth and made a strangled cry as he'd begun to slowly work his length in and out of her ass, his body hardly moving, her torso flexing and sliding against mine. She had clenched her abdomen, grinding it against my pussy. Her eyes had gone wide and the plume of heat that had boiled off of her skin had heated mine as he'd begun to fuck her again.

That's when she brought her chin to my lips and without being told what was expected I'd meekly licked it clean. I had felt shame eating Kwasi's semen. I knew I had left behind "girls don't count" long ago, but the yeasty taste of his cum brought it home. I was a whore. Only when I was done had she kissed me. I had pushed my tongue between her lips, her mouth was thick with semen she hadn't swallowed. She forced it into my mouth and watched me swallow it. But I hadn't forgotten my role. I waited my turn with growing excitement. Only when the game of feeding me Kwasi's cum was over had she allowed me to fuck her mouth. God help me, I had been so happy.

Stirring her moans with my tongue, pointing it and reaching for the depths of her throat as she began to cry out. Even then I'd still been desperate to please her. And at first I'd felt her excitement, knew I was pleasing her, but then she had become lost to her pleasure, had stopped responding to me. Finally she had forgotten me, Kwasi forgot me. I had wanted her to love what I was doing, but finally she had pulled away. She had screamed and swore into my ear as he fucked her, rubbing against me until my chest and belly chafed. I wasn't even a witness any longer, I was just something she was on top of; a prop. She had never really looked at me as anything else ever again.

Claire's nails dig into my skin, making me cry out, my fingers fisting the shag of the carpet in surprise. I've buried my face in my folded arms, hid from her, but her nails stabbing the open cheeks of my ass are calling me back.

Sweat is pricking my skin - my pores burn, but Claire is just caressing me, dragging her hands over my damp skin, pushing at the small of my back, urging me to arch it more, to stick my ass up further, to expose my asshole entirely. I obey.

"Claire..." I beg, "

anything

you want,

everything

. Please Claire."

My voice is muffled, my face hidden in my hands, pressed into the carpet. I am willing myself to be what she wants. I bite my lip and wait, but I can feel myself shaking.

"Look at me Sarah."

Twisting my neck and peeking through my hair at her, I obey. Her pupils seem huge, her eyes glassy and shifting. She raises her hand, almost as if she is showing me her palm - I'm confused, my fear momentarily forgotten. Then she gives it a hard swat.

Smack!

"Ow!" I cry, but mostly in surprise. My skin tingles where her hand is resting. She spanked me. My eyes must be wide with shock, but her gaze pins me. I release my lip, realizing I've been biting it. I remember her promises, to make my ass glow... I thought she was joking.

The first and last time my mother had spanked me I was eight. Too old. Dad hadn't been home from the hospital long, the house had still been full of flowers, but smelled of his sick. We were supposed to be quiet. Wes and Kelly had been misbehaving, running around. I'd told them to stop but Wes had hit a side table hard and knocked it over, smashing a vase, scattering the flowers. I'd grabbed him by the arm and stopped him from falling into the broken glass, but he'd screamed in pain.

My mother had rushed into the room, alarmed and then enraged, her face bright red. She'd grabbed me viciously by the hair and pulled me away. Wes and Kelly had watched in shock as she'd thrown me over her knee, spanking my ass and legs hard and fast saying I was a bad girl, her voice hysterical. I had been spanked before, but never like this, my father had never hit me this hard, this many times. But I had always cried, as much from the fear as the pain. And though this had been much scarier and hurt much worse, I hadn't cried out, hadn't cried at all. My mother had been hysterical, hitting me over and over. She had cried, Wes and Kelly had cried, but I hadn't. Maybe it was the shock, or my anger, but I'd held myself silent.

She had screamed through her tears at Wes and Kelly to stop crying, had pushed me away and told me to go to my room. I'd gone to the kitchen, gotten the dustpan and towels, had cleaned the mess while she hugged Wes and Kelly, the three of them crying. I remembered how terribly it had hurt, how determined I'd been not to cry.