The Organization Pt 05

Copyright 2012, 2020 Lisa Summers

(All characters in this story are 18 years or older at the time of sexual activity)

"Mary Ann, how did you get started at um, The Organization?" Kayce asked her, as she took the sliced turkey out of the deli container. "And do you want one or two sandwiches?"

Mary Ann giggled. "You sounded like you were going to call it 'Hot Sex Incorporated.' And I'll have one, with Russian and on wheat bread." She watched Kayce as she bustled about Mary Ann's kitchen. Sadly for us, both women were dressed, so I can't describe for you how lovely their slim naked bodies would have looked. But they still looked darned hot in their work casual outfits.

"Yeah, I'm not sure how to refer to it," Kayce admitted. "I've never been a criminal before. Are you the capo de tutti capos?" Kayce looked uncertainly at her mistress.

"Well, I didn't start The Organization, I was recruited into it. And, I've been pretty successful here," Mary Ann said.

"Would you mind telling me about it?" Kayce asked deferentially. "I'd love to know more about you, and your life."

"Hmm, okay," Mary Ann said. "Finish making the sandwiches and pour us a glass of milk each, and we can eat in the bedroom. It's so sunny and beautiful there, it always puts me in a good mood."

The two women carried the food into Mary Ann's sumptuous bedroom, surrounded by walls of glass on two sides, with flower placements throughout, and sweetly feminine touches that accented the romantic Victorian décor, including a lovely king poster bed in mahogany. The two sat on the bed, facing each other, plates before them and the glasses at hand on a side table.

"So, it began like this," Mary Ann said...

****

Mary Ann's Story

"You know I'm pretty young," I (Mary Ann) said.

"Yes, honestly when I first saw you, I thought you were a college girl," Kayce said.

I laughed. "I guess I disabused you of that notion pretty quickly, though."

Kayce looked happy. "Yes, and I've never been happier," she said. "But please, continue."

"Okay. Well, the reason that I look so young, is because I am young. I started with the organization as a junior in high school. You see, I was a cheerleader, and in the Honor Society, had great grades, the whole deal, basically had everything going for me. My guidance counselor, and the advisor to the cheerleaders, was Mrs. Rosalie Adams. She was also an agent and recruiter for The Organization.

One day, she called me into her office. "Mary Ann, I need to go over some papers related to your college choices, do you have some free time?"

"I've got classes right now, and then cheerleader practice," I said.

"How about after that?" she asked, her chin resting in her hand, her blonde hair coiffed into a tight bun, as she glared at me over glasses resting on her nose, giving her a severe look.

"Well, I guess," I said. "Um, where?"

"Why don't I drive you to my house after practice, show you the papers you need to fill out, give you dinner, and take you home?"

"Okay, sure," I said. "I'll just call my mom and let her know."

"That's fine," Mrs. Adams said.

Mrs. Adams met me as I came out of the girls locker room, and led me to her car. She drove me to her house - this was in Lawrence, Kansas, and she lived in a nice, suburban housing development. She led me inside.

"This is very nice," I said. Of course, I would have said that if she lived in a shack, and I had no idea of one furnishing from another - I was very naïve!

"Thank you," she said. "My husband left me well off, so I don't have to worry about making a living, I can concentrate on having fun."

That jarred me. Mrs. Adams was probably in her mid forties, and I had never, ever heard anyone in that age group ever talk about having "fun."

"Pardon me?" I said.

"I said, I like to have fun," she said, again. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Um, okay," I said.

She went to her refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of a white wine. I don't remember what kind, something relatively bland.

"You don't drink much, do you?" she said, looking back at me.

"No ma'am, I said. "I'm not twenty one yet." I thought I heard her giggle.

"Well, this is mild and perfect for you," she said, bringing out two glasses of a still white wine, and handing me one. "Sip it slowly, I think that you'll like it very much."

I did, and it was tasty, a little sour, but it tasted better than I thought it might.

"That's good," I said.

"Well, since you like the taste," she said, "swallow all of that glass, then sip the next." I knew nothing about drinking wine, so I did as she directed.

"How's that?" she asked.

"Good, very good," I said, attempting to sound grown up.

"Darling, looking at you, I have just the bracelet that would look perfect on you, with your coloring and shape. May I get it for you?"

"Okay, sure," I said. She brought me an ornate silver bracelet with what looked like diamonds inset.

"Oh my goodness," I said. "That's absolutely beautiful."

"Let me try it on you," she said, already placing it on my left wrist, and fiddling with the clasp. "Now, it's a little tricky..." she said, and I immediately felt a little pinch, and a drop of dark blood appeared on the white skin of my inner wrist.

"Oh dear, I've pinched you, I'm so sorry," she said, removing the bracelet again. "Let me look at that," she said, inspecting my wound.

"Oh, I know just what to do," she said, then brought my wrist to her face and kissed it, licking over the drop of blood and the area of my puncture. I had the vision of her being a vampire and sucking my blood, and instead of scaring me, it gave me a weird thrill.

"Your skin is so soft, Mary Ann," she whispered, and I moved closer to her face to hear her better.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I asked her, looking into her eyes, and everything seemed to change for me. Her eyes became my whole world, I couldn't look away.

"Oh, Mrs. Adams," I moaned, and the next thing I knew, we were kissing. My first impulse was to shy away - I pulled back in shock. I had never kissed anyone on the lips, or had them kiss me there. Not my mother, or sisters, and not any boys, not yet, and as it turned out, not ever...

Anyway, she pulled me toward her, which just frightened me more, though I must admit that I was feeling something else, something undefinable under my fright. She looked at me fiercely, then with a swift tug, pulled me over her lap, flipped up my skirt and pulled down my panties, baring my buttocks.

"You're such a tease, you little cunt!" she exclaimed, and began spanking me, her bare right hand slapping down on, first, my left butt cheek, then my right, then back again, for what seemed to be an endless time, the loud thwack! of each blow echoing throughout the room and my ears. My bottom quickly grew bright red, but not nearly as red as my face, embarrassed at the thought of someone seeing my bare bottom, embarrassed at the reality of an authority figure punishing me, and in such an embarrassing way, and especially red at the realization that my pussy was absolutely dripping with liquid, and I wasn't even sure where it had come from - I knew that I hadn't peed myself.

That last mystery was quickly solved. Her flurry of hot spanks to my soft, female bottom quickly ended, then I felt her fingers moving between the full cheeks of my ass, dwelling on my tiny, puckered ass hole and probing me there lightly, then continuing downward until reaching the juicy peach of my pussy.

"Ohh, you nasty, naughty girl, cumming from being spanked!" she exclaimed, her left hand holding me down on her warm, soft lap, while her right hand freely explored my most intimate areas. Her soft and inquisitive probing turned into soft caresses, and I experienced an entire universe of pleasurable sensations that I had never dreamed could exist.

I made no attempt to get up from her invitingly comfortable body, and I even wriggled on her with pleasure, as she began to trace a wet finger along my labia, and around my young, virginal clitoris and within my pussy, even with my hymen still intact.

"Oh darling, you're still a virgin," she said softly, as her index finger probed my maidenhead. "You will be such a special, special treat," she said, allowing me to, reluctantly, raise myself up and look into her blue eyes.

"Do you want to kiss me back now?" she asked me in a whisper, a slight, knowing smile resting on those warm and soft, full and feminine lips. I nodded, then leaned forward, and clumsily and belatedly responded to her earlier advances, my young lips, pink and not yet as full as hers, or as full as mine would be when I had reached maturity, touched hers wonderingly. Her breath raced over my lips, as she opened to receive me, and when we joined in that first Sapphic union, her tongue also kissed my lips, then into my mouth to greet my own tongue as I realized that we should both share open mouths, and many, many other things.

I swooned into her arms, her touch and embrace warm and welcome, her hands now roaming over my body. Her left hand was between my legs, pinching my swelling young labia and brushing sweetly and teasingly over my small, pink clitoris, making my hips jerk from the overwhelming shocks of pleasure and delight that her touch brought me.

Her right hand insinuated inside my school blouse and under my bra, a formality only, as my breasts were completely undeveloped, consisting of warm bumps with hard, erect pink nipples the size of pencil erasers in the centers. She cooed happily, though.

"Oh darling, little one!" she moaned. "Your sweet breasts are such little things, warm and soft, but filled with the promise of the woman you will be with me." I wasn't sure what she meant by such things, but the sound of her voice as she spoke about my body and my intimate features, something that even my mother had never referenced, combined with her perfect touch in those feminine mysteries, made me cum, over and over again, seemingly endlessly, until I begged her to stop.

She carried me to her bed, still clothed, then lay me down, and began to perform her evening ritual of undressing, followed by bathing, then returning to me. She was naked under an open old fashioned dressing gown, and brushed her hair with an ornate hair brush. Throughout this whole experience, undressing to preparing for bed, must have taken a half an hour, and I lay supine that whole time, my eyes on her as she undressed, consuming her nakedness as each garment was removed, then bereft when she disappeared during her bath, happy again when she prepared herself - for me, as it turned out.

She giggled when she fell on the bed next to me, two school girls on a sleepover, though I was an 18 year old teenager and she a matron in her forties. But her body smelled so nice, and her breasts, her bottom, her pussy, her skin, her hair, her eyes, were all so beautiful I felt that I might cry. She lay next to me, and then my own training began.

She introduced me to the olfactory and gustatory pleasures that a female may give to another female. She straddled me, the dressing gown hanging off her shoulders, but hiding nothing from me, since it also covered me, her naked body, stocky but not fat, looming above me, her hairy pussy only inches above my face, her thighs warm against my cheeks.

"Smell me, Mary Ann," she instructed me. "Inhale the scent of a woman's pussy, excited because of you. Describe."

"Um, you smell...hot and humid," I offered hesitantly. "And sweet, like honey but a smell of honey. And...an ocean smell, nice. It smells nice."

"How does it make you feel?" she asked. "How does smelling my pussy make you feel?"

"It makes me feel good...in my pussy," I replied boldly. "May I touch myself there?"

"Yes, darling, touch your pretty pussy, stroke your cute little clitoris, make yourself cum, you're learning our dark arts so rapidly..."

I stroked myself, my thighs crashing together as I came, squeezing my eyes closed, then open again, not wanting to take my eyes off the deep pink I saw hidden away in the nest of Mrs. Adams' cunt. Her fingers were there, in her nest of curly black hair, when I reopened my eyes, separating her fleshy cunt lips, showing me the expanse of glistening, pink and moist female flesh.

"Taste," she said, lowering her index finger with a whitish-clear drop of some fluid hanging off the tip, just below her perfectly trimmed fingernail, to my lips. It touched my lip and melted away into my mouth, leaving a sweet and salty taste that welcomed me, and piqued my desire for more.

"Do you like the taste?" she asked, smiling, and I nodded.

"Yes," I added, and licked my lip.

She laughed gaily. "Yes, I imagine you do, you little vixen." Then she lowered her body onto me, until her soft, pink folds had enveloped my mouth and nose wetly. I didn't know what to do, and feared that I might not be able to breathe, but remembered that she had told me to 'taste', and so I swirled my tongue around, inside her pussy, the smell and the taste now overwhelming, but so exciting.

As I scraped my tongue inside her vaginal walls, thin sheets of her liquid collected in the center of my tongue and dripped into my mouth, the taste now my world, her cunt my existence. My nose bobbed against her fat clit, happily bringing her to a quick orgasm.

"Oh god, girl, you're fucking making me cum so fast!" she exclaimed, her thighs pressing together, fortunately popping my face out of her opening, like a cork out of a bottle, a breeze of cool, fresh air racing over my wet cheeks and forehead, then my face dipped back down into her ocean of lust, like the bowsprit of a schooner in a hurricane, over and over until my face was absolutely slimy with her excited essence.

She came, perhaps five or six times, or maybe it was just one long orgasm, the shocks and aftershocks impossible to separate during the earthquake that was her first night with me. At any rate, that was the extent of our first time together. She cleaned me up, and sent me home with a story about college testing and a few brochures, and my parents were none the wiser.

Our affair progressed, until the night she told me about the 'organization' to which she belonged, and how she felt that I would be a perfect member.

"What's its name?" I asked her, as she lounged between my thighs, her tongue dreamily scraping over my clit. "Oh god," I added, as I came under her tongue.

"I can't tell you until you've been, well, I guess you could call it 'initiated', she said, suddenly looking a little frightened.

"No, there couldn't be any harm," I suggested.

"It's a secret," she said more firmly. "Really secret."

"Well, if you think it's the right thing for me," I said. "Can you at least tell me about the initiation?"

"You'll need to tell your parents some story - it will take you away from home for about three days, and it's rather, um, rigorous, physically."

"Will it make me closer to you?" I asked. By this time I was madly in love with her, and would have done anything for her.

"Oh yes, we'll be sisters in the organization, of course, and we'll be lovers."

"We're already lovers," I pointed out. My mother would have been horrified to discover that Mrs. Adams had taken my virginity with a particularly nasty, but delightful, ribbed strap on dildo.

"Well, committed lovers, you know," she said. Then she told me what it consisted of. It was very similar to what you went through, Kayce, with the vibrator and the sybian. Of course, the girls were different, but their pussies were just as delightful as the ones you experienced.

"I would LOVE to do it!" I exclaimed, and so it was, after arranging a spurious weekend 'college visit', and lying through my teeth to my parents, that I was initiated into The Organization. Of course, Mrs. Adams had completely lied to me and misled me about the purposes of the organization, but what would you expect a criminal enterprise to do? Tell the truth about something?

I took to a double life of deceit and lies, like a duck to water. It's not really that hard for a teenager. Most of the time, I was a high school student and cheerleader. Part of the time, I did little errands for the organization, nothing really bad. And then, another part of the time, I was Mrs. Adams' plaything.

And that's where the story gets a little complicated.

"Baby, I want you to help me to entertain some friends this weekend," Rosalie told me.

"I'm not sure I can come over, my mom wants me to help her," I said, nearly whining. Rosalie Adams didn't really bring out the best in me as a developing teenager, but I adored the sex we had.

"Make it work," she said brusquely. "Or I'll have to find someone else." I was shattered.

You think I'm fairly attractive, right, Kayce? Of course I am. But as a junior in high school, aside from the times that Rosalie was fucking me with a strap on, or persuading me to lick her dirty ass hole, I was a jangling bundle of insecurity. And that was with boys pestering me all the time for dates - as if!

But all she had to do was look at me a certain way, and I would break down in tears. I hurriedly, and tearfully, assured her that I would be there.

"Three pm, wear something nice," she said. I looked at her back as she strode down the school hallway.

"What's that all about, MA?" I heard a soft voice ask. It was my best friend, Donna Ashbrook.

"Oh...Donna, it's nothing. I have to fill out some college application."

"Yeah?" Donna said, dubious, scratching her scalp absent-mindedly, moving the head band in her long blonde hair. She readjusted it and said, "My sister didn't nearly break down in tears when she filled out college applications, but maybe it's different for everybody."

"Oh...Donna," I said. She took my arm. "C'mon, we've got to learn that new routine, and I don't want to break my neck - I'm the one who has to jump off the top of the pyramid, and you're the one with her hand in my crotch." She giggled.

Donna was far and away the best friend I'd ever had, and we were overjoyed when we both made the cheerleading squad. But there was nothing romantic or sexual between us then. We were just friends, and I loved her so for being my friend.

That Saturday I rang Mrs. Adams' doorbell, wearing my best dress - she'd said to wear something nice, and I wanted to impress her. She let me in, and said, "Ladies, here is my little trinket, Mary Ann Hopkins. Some of you know her, I think."

I looked around, and to my shock and horror, some of the five other women there were teachers of mine, Mrs. Del Mundo, my Spanish teacher, and Mrs. Crafton, my Trigonometry teacher. The other three I didn't recognize. They were all in their late thirties or early forties, I guess.

"Hello Mary Ann," Mrs. Crafton said, in a voice decidedly different from the one she used in school. "I'm very happy to see you here," she said, kind of leering at me.

Addressing me, Mrs. Adams said, "I've decided that you're going to put on a fashion show for the ladies, then serve us. Go to my bedroom, and you'll see your outfit lined up on my bed. Put it on and come out here so that we can see it on you."

I was a little excited, thinking that she'd gone out and bought me nice clothes. I hurried to her bedroom, with the voices of the women trailing me.

"So that's the hot one you've been fucking..."

"She looks ever so much more edible outside of the classroom..."

"Will we get to see her naked, and fuck her?"

The last comment worried me, but I went into her room to pick up my outfit, picturing a nice, lacy white dress. I stopped, staring at the bed. The 'outfit' was simply a cheap pair of panties and a simple bra. A pair of little girl panties, but in my size, and with the words "It Isn't Gonna Lick Itself" screen painted over the crotch, next to cartoon pictures of Sesame Street characters.