The Depraved Dykes Of Fit Book 04

Copyright 2015, 2021 Lisa Summers

All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Sometimes Evil doesn't get punished.

Sometimes Evil takes over the world.

And FIT is oh, so Good at being Evil!

Chapter 1

"Marc, did you forget that I've got an appointment at the fertility clinic today, after lunch? You promised that you'd come with me." Elizabeth looked uncertainly in the direction of the shower stall containing her husband. Perhaps he didn't hear her, after all, the shower was pretty loud. And as busy as he was with work, it was entirely possible that he had forgotten. But considering that he was the reason that she couldn't conceive, it was possible that he'd forgotten on purpose.

He surprised her when he told her without hesitation that he was willing to go.

"But, there's a price first," he said, his voice echoing from the glass-door shower next to her.

The short haired brunette paused from applying makeup, and looked at the door quizzically. Then the water abruptly shut off, and the tempered glass door of the shower stall slid aside, a handsome, well built man of about thirty exiting, completely naked.

"If you're getting artificially boinked, Elizabeth, I'd better get some booty to carry me over," he said in a deep voice that never failed to send a thrill through his wife's slim and towel clad body.

"I said 'next week' said Elizabeth, but a glance between his legs showed that it was probably too late. His cock, already enormous at least to Elizabeth's twenty-eight year old eyes, was growing rapidly into a steel hard ram. She sighed. Obviously he'd been thinking about sex again in the shower, and now she was going to be late for work. Well, at least she'd probably be satisfied when she got there.

He stripped off her towel, which ended up in a crumpled pile on the bathroom floor. His strong hands posed her against the sink vanity, and pulled her wide hips backwards so that she was poised for his rear entry into her pussy - which seconds before hadn't been at all prepared for sex, but was rapidly getting there now. "Oh god...at least make it fast, okay? I've got a meeting this morning," she said. Hopefully he was in his 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' mode.

He nuzzled her ear and neck as he slowly slipped his cock head into her pussy from behind. She rose up on her toes to better accommodate him and his horse cock. What he lacked in technique he made up for in size. Still, she wished he were smaller but more adept at foreplay. As he began his slow, steady stroking in and out of her, she closed her eyes and imagined that they'd spent the morning in bed cuddling, touching, and kissing and that it was his fingers stroking her pussy lips and caressing her breasts instead of her own.

As he pumped her, her full breasts bounced against the vanity top, rhythmically flattening her long, dark brown nipples then allowing them to float free, over and over.

Her excitement slowly grew and just as he groaned, a hot jet of his jizz catching her just inside her pussy lips, she teetered over the edge herself, catching a quick tingle of pleasure that electrified her clit for a brief moment, like the pleasure from an unexpected sneeze. She moaned, mainly to let him know that she'd cum, too, and turned to face him as his dick pulled away from her, dripping more of his sticky jizz onto her feet.

"That was so good," she said, rising up on tiptoe to kiss him as he towered over her. He smiled.

"Yeah, me too," he said. "Thank you." They embraced for a few seconds, then by mutual, unspoken agreement went back to getting dressed and after a few discussions about various petty marital matters, left for their jobs. Marc and Elizabeth Tyler were both young professionals. Marc worked at Shannon & Markell, stockbrokers uptown, while Elizabeth was the junior political adviser to Brooklyn City Council member Moishe Spiegel, a rising figure on the New York City scene.

They'd picked out "Beginnings Fertility Clinic," on 8th Avenue in Park Slope, several months before, as it was near to their home and had a very good reputation. Her appointment to 'get boinked,' as Marc referred to it, was at 2 PM, which meant that they could head home instead of trying to get back to work afterwards. She was just grateful that Marc was neither suffering depression due to his low sperm count, nor resentful that they'd be using another man's sperm. They'd picked out a donor who resembled Marc, and who had a good background. She hoped that it would take, and if it wasn't too much to ask, that the resulting conception result in a boy, as they'd both wanted a male first born.

They were greeted courteously by the receptionist, and the clinical staff took special care to see that they were comfortable, particularly Elizabeth - of course they would, as she was the one undergoing the procedure. As it turned out, it was pretty much the way you would picture it - a catheter was placed into the vagina, through the cervix and into the uterus, and the sperm deposited there.

"Do they do anything special to the sperm?" Marc had asked.

"Well, it's washed, and the most motile, healthy sperm are concentrated," explained the nurse, who conducted the procedure. "That will give the best results and avoid irritation to Elizabeth."

Looking at Elizabeth she added, "You might notice a slight fever afterward, and that's normal. If you find that you're having odd dreams or even hallucinations, come in to see us. It's rare, but again normal, but there are steps that we can take to lessen the stress on you. We want your baby to have every chance."

That sounded so nice to Elizabeth, "your baby." She smiled. "I'm sure everything will be fine," she said.

"I thought that artificial insemination would involve a turkey baster and maybe giving the sperm a shot of Red Bull," Marc joked.

"It's actually called intrauterine insemination, and there's no turkey baster or Red Bull involved," the nurse replied, stern faced. "Otherwise you understand it perfectly." Elizabeth glared at Marc. His joking could just go too far sometimes.

As expected, the procedure went without complication, and Marc and Elizabeth returned home. It was two days later that the first odd event occurred. Elizabeth was in her office, looking over constituent requests from the voters of Councilman Spiegel's district.

"Elizabeth, could you help this nice lady with her problem?" asked Martha Seburg, senior adviser to the Councilman. Elizabeth saw her standing with a woman who appeared to be in her mid forties, well dressed and attractive. "A rich man's wife, no doubt," Elizabeth thought.

Martha introduced the woman as Leticia Stern. "Her husband is in the energy field," Martha said. Elizabeth thought that she had heard the name before, something to do with the wind turbine industry.

After initial pleasantries, Elizabeth asked how she could help her. Leticia looked embarrassed.

"I honestly hate to pull strings," she said, "but the neighbor to our apartment is causing trouble. I had hoped that if someone from the city spoke to her, they might be able to get her to keep the noise down, without involving police or anything like that. Unfortunately building management is ignoring us - it has to do with the politics of the co-op board."

From time to time, the Councilman's office and his staff were tasked to solve problems that could also be taken up by other departments like the police, or environmental health, but which were politically sensitive or needed the deft hand of people who understood the value of fixing things with a minimum of fuss. Elizabeth was particularly good at such small dilemmas, and everyone could see that she had a bright political future - if she chose to stick with it.

She wasn't sure herself of that, as the urge of motherhood also called her.

She was a little wary of this request, though. While Robert Stern, Leticia's husband, was a campaign contributor to the councilman, so were many of those on the co-op board of Clocktower. She accompanied Mrs. Stern in her town car to the building, the very tony Clocktower Apartments in DUMBO, the acronym for "Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass."

"There are a lot of celebrities in this building," Mrs. Stern remarked as the two women looked up at the facade before entering. "I often run into Anne Hathaway doing her shopping."

"How exciting," Elizabeth responded. "It's funny how people with mega bucks are often thrilled by meeting actors, some with little money of their own," she thought.

They took the elevator up to the Stern apartment, which was furnished with remarkable taste, and while not taking up the entire seventh floor, was nonetheless quite spacious. "It's just my husband and I," explained Mrs. Stern.

"So, what is the problem? And how would you like me to help?" Elizabeth asked.

"Let's have a glass of wine, first, okay?" Leticia asked.

"Would you mind if I had water instead?" Elizabeth responded.

"Surely," Leticia said. Getting the drinks herself, she returned with a wine glass of some white wine, and a crystal tumbler of water. She began by recounting her family's history, and that of her husband, but after what seemed like hours, Elizabeth began to feel herself becoming drowsy. She sipped at the water to try to stay awake, but her eyelids were still heavy.

"...and so, I thought that you might be able to help me," Leticia said.

"I'm sorry, I missed something," Elizabeth responded apologetically. "I'm feeling a little under the weather...could I lie down?" she pleaded, a little embarrassed that she was coming down with something while working with a constituent, an especially important one at that.

"Oh goodness, my dear, of course. Let me take you to the bedroom, you can be comfortable there." She led Elizabeth to a beautiful bedroom, outfitted in rich, dark woods and with vases of flowers throughout. Elizabeth looked around, impressed. She had often come into contact with the wealthy of New York City, even the mega wealthy, but these people had taste as well as money.

"Relax here," she said to Elizabeth, who reluctantly, but gratefully accepted her invitation and lay down on the generously soft mattress, on top of the duvet.

"Ohh," Elizabeth sighed, a strange tension that had been building inside her all morning gradually slipping away as her skin contacted the cool silk fabric. "So nice..." she began to say, but never was sure if she ever finished it.

She dreamt then, of things feminine and soft. Beautiful women approached her, then moved away in fluid movements, and she realized that she was somehow at a ball, a formal one judging by the dresses of the women. They looked at her appreciatively, their eyes ranging from her hair to her feet, taking her in, even lingering on her breasts, but somehow it wasn't rude or offensive as when a man would do the same.

She felt an excitement when one of the women would smile at her, and without words compliment her on her beauty and on her body. Finally, one of the women took her hand and led her to the center of the dance floor, located in an opulent room that she knew she had never seen before - she had never dreamed that a room could be so impressively beautiful.

The woman began to lead her through the dance, one with which she was not familiar, but she picked up the steps immediately. Soon the others joined in and all were dancing, yet there were no men, and the dance went on as if perfect, with every woman in step, and a joy grew in her heart.

Once the music stopped, the women left the floor in their couples. Elizabeth went with the woman who had introduced her to the dance, hand in hand, the woman's touch warm and confident, which was conducted to Elizabeth like a soft electrical current.

Elizabeth noticed that the walls were lined with doors. As the doors opened, each couple would enter their own door, and Elizabeth could see a bed beyond, inside the room. "How odd," she thought. The woman led her to a door, too, and on into a bedroom that looked very much like the one that Mrs. Stern had led her to.

"Sit here," the woman said, and Elizabeth obediently sat on the edge of the bed.

"Remove your dress," she said, and Elizabeth complied, feeling freer as each stay was loosened, and each garment removed. "All of it," the woman said, until Elizabeth was quite naked and quite free of concern. She smiled at the woman, who also began to remove her clothing.

When both were naked, the woman went to a beautiful dresser and pulled open a drawer, taking out a lovely white satin daisy lace chemise that she held up as she gazed at Elizabeth. "This will be perfect," she said, handing it to Elizabeth, though it seemed to the young woman more that it floated through the air from the woman's hand to her own.

She donned it, proud that it concealed nothing, but lent an air of femininity of dress to her, as a woman is often more beautiful artfully concealing her nakedness than in the nakedness alone.

The woman reached into a second drawer and found a more concealing, but no less seductive paloma chemise, with cups made of tasteful white lace dotted with touches of black lace at her breasts, and donned it. Then she led Elizabeth back to the bed, and the two women laid down together, their bodies touching so that Elizabeth could feel the woman's heat, and smell her breath, sweet and fruit like.

The woman took Elizabeth's head in her hands lightly, gazing into Elizabeth's brown eyes with eyes of striking blue, small calm whirlpools that quite captured her. Then she spoke.

"I was thinking about how beautiful you were when you entered the room, wearing your dress," the woman said in a low, throaty voice. "Your calves were so taut and smooth, and I just wanted to kiss the dimple behind your knees...perhaps to find it hot and wet, and kiss you there, tasting your salty perspiration."

"And as you smiled at me when I picked you out, I wanted to kneel in front of you, sliding your skirt up your thighs, your skin so smooth and tan. Your skirt would frustrate me a little" - she laughed - "slipping back down whenever I let go to caress those lovely thighs, teasing me when all I wanted was to see you naked there." Elizabeth swallowed, but her mouth was already dry.

"Oh my god, this woman is seducing me, quite openly," she thought.

But Elizabeth did not give voice to that thought. All that she said was, "Oh?" And that barely squeaked out.

The woman laughed, and murmured,"Finally, your skirt obeys and stays up, bunched in one of my hands, and I can see your sweet, white lace panties, the gusset showing a little bulge from your pubic hair...you've got a beautiful little bush, Elizabeth," she added.

Elizabeth grew confused by a growing itch directly under that bush, as well as wondering just exactly where she might be.

"Um, perhaps you shouldn't be-" Elizabeth began.

"-Saying such lewd and obscene things?" replied the woman with a smirk. Her hand caressed Elizabeth's cheek as she lay next to her, immobile on the bed. She went to kiss Elizabeth, her lips soft and cool on her own. Elizabeth's lips parted, their breath conjoining, the woman's breath sweet in Elizabeth's mouth. She sighed, she had never felt a kiss bring her so much pleasure and contentment. The two women kissed for seemingly hours, neither one feeling any need or desire to separate from the other.

Elizabeth felt the woman smile, and moved her face away to ask why.

"I knew that you were one of us," the woman said. "I could smell the hot scent of peaches from your pussy, the moment I met you." She paused, and then went on, even as Elizabeth turned away in confusion mixed with arousal.

"I knew that you liked the smell of another girl's cunt in your nose, her cream drying on your upper lip, her moans of joy still ringing in your ears..." moaned the woman, now spooning Elizabeth from behind. Her finger tips gently caressed the younger woman's neck. Elizabeth shivered from the soft tingles she felt there, a sensation that continued as the woman's hands trailed down Elizabeth's front.

Her nipples sprang into hardness under the woman's teasing touch, and she impertinently tweaked them, causing Elizabeth to yelp with pain. Still, something prevented her from doing more than ineffectually objecting.

"Please, don't..." she began, but her voice trailed off as she felt the woman's warm lips on her neck.

"Please don't touch your yearning breasts?" the woman said, in a slightly mocking tone. "Please don't lick and kiss your hot, wet pussy?" The woman gently turned Elizabeth back to face her.

Her eyes bore into Elizabeth's frightened, brown orbs. "Tell me that you're not dreaming of having a woman's warm, moist breath caress your inner thighs, and massage the folds of your pussy lips, her tongue flicking softly against the sensitive pink wet of your clit, your body erupting in the momentous burst of joy that you've always dreamed of, but that your husband disappointingly never gave you..."

The woman sat up in the bed, and pulled up her own chemise, revealing shapely legs, and her shockingly bare vulva, deep red slit all that Elizabeth could see, clit and labia nearly nonexistent.

"Please me, Elizabeth," she ordered, her stance expectant as though accustomed to being served by other females.

To Elizabeth's own shock and surprise, she leaned forward, face nearing the moistening cunt. Her thoughts at first were, "I'll never do that," but when her nostrils took in that sweet, humid peach scent, all thought of disobedience went away, and desire to excite the woman and bring her the greatest joy possible filled her world.

She swiveled her body around, suddenly ravenous for the mysterious female's cunt, dripping with cream and aching for a woman's special touch. "Oh god, yes," was Elizabeth's next thought, before her tongue contacted that lovely well of pleasure between the woman's legs, and she was lost forever to her old life.

Languidly lapping at the lovely woman's excited cunt, Elizabeth began imagining that she was in a room with all the dancers from the ball - many attractive, some not - and that she had been commanded to undress each of the women in turn, then make them cum a dozen times. Her hand went between her own legs as she slurped the woman's dripping wet pussy, as she moaned loudly next to her.

Elizabeth then imagined that the woman's moans of pleasure would bring police coming to see what was happening - six or seven rough, butch dykes, who, when they found her eating out another woman, pulled down their uniform pants to reveal the massive strap on dildos they were wearing. Each of them fucked Elizabeth in her ass and cunt from behind, while she munched on the hot slits of the dozens of women that she was tasked to please.

Elizabeth came then, orgasm after orgasm, each more powerful than the last, like a series of lightning bolts bringing her immense and intense pleasure, striking her in her clit and stunning her into speechlessness. Soon, Elizabeth passed out from the sheer delight, and woke to find herself on the bed in Leticia Stern's apartment, with a wet towel on her head.

"My god," she thought. "I imagined the whole thing and fainted, and Leticia placed me here." She felt confused - as you might expect - as to why her fugue state had involved women of all kinds bringing her sexual pleasure, when she knew for a fact that she was straight, married and loved her husband.

She went to remove the towel, and found that it was a pair of pink panties, wet and slick, and smelling of peaches, that was on her forehead. On the bedside stand was a post-it note.

"I adored our time together, and I promise you that your life will bring you everything that you desire from now on." It was signed, "Leticia Stern."