Copyright 2012, 2020 Lisa Summers
Janna sat naked, legs folded, in the bed next to me, and hefted the pistol in her hand.
"It's probably better if you look away," she said. "If you know when it's coming you'll tense up and the bullet'll do more damage. You might even jerk and have the bullet cut your artery," she added.
She was about to say something else, when I said, "Oh, fuck that," and kicked her dead center in the chest between her two sumptuous breasts. She went what I think is termed 'ass over teakettle' onto the floor. I grabbed the pistol as it slid across the sheet and looked down at her on the floor, rubbing her nose and her breastbone.
"Bitch!" I shouted, out of sheer relief at not being shot - at least, right then. "FBI - Quantico and FLETC - Glynco, Georgia training - bitch." If she wanted to compare 'martial arts training dicks,' I was fine with that. And it was good to feel the fog of my conversion suddenly dissipate. I was still a full-fledged lesbo working for The Organization, but I'd be damned if I was going to do it half-assed.
"It looks as though an adjustment in the scoring is needed," Roberta Ashbrook said wryly. "Well done, Kayce. Just don't fuck up any more tests." She began walking away, then stopped, and turned back to me.
"By the way, you're now an active agent. I expect that now police agencies will wonder why major financial crime is up in their jurisdictions and never connect it to you. Let the sheep wonder why they're being fleeced so wonderfully thoroughly." Then she walked out, followed by Sid.
As my eyes followed her exit, and my ears waited to hear the door close behind her, I heard soft moaning from the floor and looked down at Janna.
"I wasn't going to shoot you," she whined. "There aren't any bullets in the clip. I know the difference in weight between an empty clip and a full clip with that type of piece. I would have just pulled the trigger and given you a scare."
"Oh?" I said, a little deflated. "You could have given me some kind of heads up." I looked at the pistol, and inspected the firing chamber and the clip.
"Tell me something, Janna," I said.
"What," she answered sulkily, rubbing her nose, which apparently had been the first part of her body to hit the floor.
"Can you tell the difference between this" - I held up the weapon - "with an empty clip and no round in the chamber, and this - I ejected the live round that had been in the chamber, and watched as it arced across the bed - with an empty clip and just one round in the chamber?"
Janna turned ashen-faced, not all of it from her sprained nose and bruised chestbone. "Oh, shit...I'm so fucking sorry, Kayce."
"Yeah," I said. "Well, at least I learned how to help you learn a lesson." I dragged her by her arm out of my bedroom towards the apartment door.
"Ow ow ow fuck, let me stand up!" Janna squealed. I gave her half a second to rise, then pulled her the rest of the way, and opened the door. There were some people at the other end of the hallway, but I didn't care.
"Good luck getting back to wherever you came from, bitch," I said, pushing the nude girl into the hall.
"Wait! Please let me get the spare clothes out of my cart-" she almost finished, as the door closed on her last words to me. She banged on the door a couple of times, but I suspect that she was smart and adaptable enough to get her awfully cute naked butt out of there as soon as she could. The silence was great. Almost as good as the sex had been.
I drew a hot bath, and soaked leisurely for a good, long time, and thought about things.
I had come a long, long way in just the past few days, from mainstream executive of a small, but growing elite investigative agency, Metropolitan Enquiry Services, to a trainee operative of a criminal organization. All the rules of logic say that such a thing is impossible, unless there was some undetected flaw in my character or upbringing that would lead me to snap, or act erratically. Much like the bank teller who comes to work one day, and guns down the first account holder that she sees, and of whom people say, "But she seemed so normal!"
On the contrary, I viewed myself as someone now freed of conventional restraints, and answerable only to a new set of rules, those imposed by The Organization, and by the sexual attraction of other women. The slight discomfort of being ruled now by The Organization was more than made up for by the intense and overwhelming pleasure that my new lesbian orientation had brought me, and was, in fact, bringing to me throughout my day.
Like later that afternoon in the lobby Starbucks.
Buying a cup of coffee was livened up by the touch of the young barista's fingers on mine as she handed me the cup, and even more so by our mutual decision to occupy Starbucks' private customer restroom at the same time.
"We'll have to hurry, I've only got a five minute break," she whispered to me, sitting on the toilet, my panties already down at my ankles, my skirt hiked up. "God, your pussy is so pink!" she exclaimed. I lifted her skirt, having her hold it while I pulled her panties down, and thrust my face into her already wet crotch. I wondered how a girl could work all day with a wet pussy, but then considered that I'd better learn how, as it looked like I'd be headed that way myself.
Her slit was wet and hot, my tongue easily picking up a coating of her cream, perhaps intended by nature to ease some male's dick inside her and impregnate her, thus perpetuating the species. Instead, her sweet and flavorful moisture was sating the lust of a fellow sapphic lover. Her scent, again intended by nature to signal her readiness to mate, was instead causing my own swollen pussy to leak wetness, and signal my own readiness for mating, at least as long as it was with another female.
I raked my tongue over her clit, and her reaction was nearly instantaneous as my rough tongue whipped her tender clit.
"Oh god fuck, yessss that's it, so perfect...again...again...fuck fuck aaaahhhh!" she whispered, her thighs pressing against my face. "Now, quickly!" she hissed, and we switched places, as she sat on the wooden toilet seat, and I lifted my skirt to allow her access to my cunt, for immoral and probably illegal purposes.
She brought her hands around my hips, to grasp my naked butt, and pull me in to her, as she leaned forward, placing her nose squarely under my clitoris, and her tongue, already working, into my own hot box, licking inside my hole, while her nose craftily tapped on my clit. Meanwhile, the index finger of her right hand was convincing my anal sphincter that there was nothing to be alarmed about, just before she slipped it all the way into my ass hole.
I squeaked as she fucked my tight little ass with her finger, and my dripping slit with her tongue, and happily gave myself over to the sensation of erotic delight that washed over me as I came on her face. It wasn't the very best orgasm that I'd ever had, but it was certainly the best that I'd ever experienced at Starbucks, and without a doubt, the fastest I'd ever experienced in any location.
Before I could even catch my breath, she'd risen, kissed me, somewhat lingeringly, and set to washing her hands - after she'd pulled up her panties. I watched her washing, and she said over her shoulder, "They'd fire my ass in a second if I returned without washing my hands."
It's good to know that restaurant chains can maintain standards of hygiene, though I would happily drink coffee with her cream in it.
She left, and as the door closed, it immediately reopened, a young mother with a little girl entering, then looking startled. "Oh...I thought it was empty," she said. "I'm so sorry."
She made as if to turn away, and I said, "No, don't, I was just leaving," giving my own hands a quick wash, then opening the door and departing, as she considered why two grown women had been in a private bathroom together.
Had she been alone, had I been prepared and far more reckless, perhaps that young mother would today be looking at life in a new light, but not everyone we meet is someone we must change so dramatically. Much as the young female barista six months previously had been fortunate enough to meet with an unknown female agent of The Organization who had simply decided to take her, and so had patted her back in passing with a micro needle that she never even felt, but which had inclined her to agree to go to see the agent's new car, and while there had, to her own initial consternation, agreed to allow The Organization agent to fuck her with a dildo she just 'happened' to have in her console. Her consternation must have quickly evaporated, though.
The barista had that same first night returned home to tell her boyfriend to, in her words, "fuck off," and she was even now trying strenuously to persuade her younger sister to agree to have sex with her. She had hopes that her sister was weakening in her resolve, and I believe it would only be a matter of time before the two sisters did, indeed, become lovers.
Meanwhile, the barista was working off her sexual frustration by having sex, once, sometimes twice per day, with a parade of Organization agents, each of whom was aware of the young barista's new hobby. That day it was my turn.
"Touch her hand with your little finger when she hands you your coffee, eye the restroom, and you're off to the races," Sherry, one of the agents, had told me.
"You're kidding," I said. "Did you have her in here for conversion?"
"No," Sherry laughed. "She didn't cost us a thing. Her first fuck must have been a doozy, though. The rest was just Pavlovian response. Oh, and watch her finger up your ass, that's how she gets you to cum fast. She doesn't want to go over her five minute break, because she's afraid that she'll get fired."
I lazed in the hot water of the tub, and then thought about Mary Ann and Donna, and their lovemaking in a tub, their first time. It was so romantic, I knew that Donna must be Mary Ann's special someone, the one that Roberta Ashbrook had mentioned comes around for us all. I wondered what had happened to Donna. Had she died, had they had some heartbreaking argument and broken up, and now each pined away for the other? I had no way to know, but I had't run across any Donna Ashbrook at The Group building yet, so, whatever took her away, really took her away.
I thought about Michael, my 'boyfriend,' and I thought about my own family, my brother and sister, then I thought about Melissa, my business partner, who, even now, was undergoing a conversion process similar to mine. In the morning, she'd be ready. I wasn't sure what role I was supposed to play, but I hoped that I'd be allowed to care for her. I missed her, and I wanted to make her awakening in her new world perfect. I got out of the tub, toweled off, then got ready for bed, and slept, dreaming of strange women offering me coffee and trying to pick me up, and a bulldog named Dominic.
****
I dressed, made breakfast in the kitchen of my new apartment, which I found to be fully stocked with the finest of goods, and headed to the conversion room, where Melissa would be finishing her final stage of conversion to both lesbianism and fealty to The Organization. The first thing I noticed was the strong aroma of all-female sex.
Of course, I hadn't noticed it during my own conversion, as I was already immersed in it, nor had I noticed it on my earlier visit to Melissa, as I had had sex earlier that day, plus the only person involved in sex at that time was Melissa herself, with the constant masturbation, and the sybian fucking her constantly. But now, others were involved.
I noticed several of the girls whose pussies I had licked during the final stage of my own conversion, and at the sight of them, my pussy began to moisten, no doubt a conditioned response. I could look forward to getting hot anytime I came across them. I felt a fondness for them, too, at seeing them. They were integral in making me a lesbian, and I would always be grateful.
