The Stink

This is the final story of this series, which is a companion to my story Truth & Admiration.

I'd like to thank ButteredCrumpet for helping me finish these last few chapters. Her contributions and our dialog have been invaluable - and made finishing a story I didn't want to end much more enjoyable.

I'd also like to thank those of you who have been reading along, for sticking with me. I have tried to make each story in this series stand on its own merits, but if you have been following Leethie from the beginning I'm grateful to you for your time and attention. I hope it's clear how much I've come to enjoy her.

My intent is not to offend, but this is a d/s lesbian romance with strong themes of nonconsent and reluctance. If that's not your cup of tea, I understand and hope you will find another story to enjoy.

As always I hope you will enjoy the story, and that if you do you will leave a comment.

XOSNS

Stink

'Miranda is going to love it!'

The errant thought came into Leethie's head as she stared at herself in the mirror. She flushed with disappointment and embarrassment as her mind caught up with itself for the hundredth time. Seeing the reaction play across her face, she dropped her eyes in shame and struggled to shake off the unwelcome confusion.

"What do you think?" her mother asked.

She looked in the mirror, at her bare shoulders. The dress hugged her figure, accenting her narrow waist and pushing her breasts up. She twisted her hair into a thick gold rope and held it up so she could see her long neck, twisting to see her bare back. The narrow fit looked beautiful on her already long frame, even so, the heels made her ass sit wonderfully high. The little bustle, with its dozens of tiny pale pink silk flowers, was a naughty indulgence on the otherwise minimalist lines of the design.

"It's beautiful, mom," Leethie told her - and it was - but she had a hard time keeping the anger and disappointment from her voice. The dress was everything she had ever dreamed of. The wedding was going to be everything she had dreamt of. But as she looked in the mirror at her mother's smiling but concerned face, at her little sisters and the seamstress. She unconsciously covered her wrist with her hand. The misery threatened to overwhelm her.

She missed Miranda, and hated her for it; hated fucking Thom.

"Whatever I want, whenever I want," he'd growled in her ear as he bent her over.

That Sunday morning after Miranda had returned home Thom had held Leethie to her promise and cornered her the first chance he got. Catching her on her way to the bathhouse alone. She felt nothing as he grabbed her from behind and reached around to jerk her fly open. She let him, felt it happening at a remove; like she was standing apart from herself, watching in confusion.

'You started this,' she told the part of herself that couldn't believe this was happening. Pushing her pants down he took her from behind. Right out in the open, and she let him.

They were hidden from view of the farmhouse only by a small utility shed, but Miranda was still in easy earshot. With her jeans around the tops of her wellies and hands against the side of the shed, she had been afraid he'd try to fuck her ass, but he had slid into her easily instead. When she had seen him coming after her, Leethie had thought of Miranda's cries. She pictured him slipping easily into Miranda, his cock still wet from fucking her. That image was enough, she was wet and open for him and had cum despite herself. Thom held himself to his promise, sliding out of her without cumming.

"Look at you," he'd said as he cooled his cock with a handful of snow. She had collapsed onto her knees when she came; was staring at the snow. "Slut."

She'd watched his hands from the corner of her eye as he buttoned his pants, making no move to get up or cover herself until after he had walked away. She heard the gate bang, then the door to the farmhouse. She was still trying to pull up her pants, they were soaking wet from the snow. She was stunned.

He had used her and treated her like a whore... although the tone he spoke in was so strange. Whatever else was going on, he was clearly getting off on degrading her. Had she'd gotten off on it as well? For a moment she had felt his excitement building with hers until she thought he would finally cum, but he didn't - or not then, not with her. And then she had humiliated herself by cumming. He had felt it, had judged her for it. And he was right.

'I am a slut.'

Her fingers were cold as she buttoned her jeans. Her panties were mucky and stuck to her. Resuming her path on shaky legs, Leethie trudged through the virgin snow towards the bathhouse. In the woods the snow on the path wasn't as deep and seemed finer, like powdered sugar sifted by the canopy of cedar and fir.

She had put the laundry in the washer before the "squall", but hadn't been back and worried that they might have gotten musty. But it had been cold and when she opened the washer she was relieved to find their clothes still smelled fresh. She loaded the dryer but didn't start it. Turning on the hot water heater and stripping down, Leethie stood naked at the basin and hand-washed her panties before putting them in the dryer along with her wet jeans. She showered to the rhythm of her jeans drying. Her head was empty of thoughts, her heart hollow.

Thom was fucking Miranda loudly in the attic again when she came back to the house from her shower. She sat by the woodstove and looked at a page of her book, listening to them. Her pulse pounding behind her eyes.

"I think it's having you in the house," a rosy-cheeked Miranda told Leethie that evening as they got ready to sauna together. "It's crazy," she laughed, "he won't leave me alone."

But Thom wasn't alone in that. As angry as she was listening to them, Leethie found herself wanting Miranda more, not less. After they had finished their first sweat and showered, she told Miranda to shave her. She sat on the bench beside the shower legs spread, still steaming as Miranda settled down onto her knees with her kit. Thom's shaving cream went on cool and smelled clean and mannish. It made Leethie think of waiting for her father at a barbershop when she was a girl.

"I miss our tub," Leethie told her.

"I know," Miranda agreed with a sympathetic pout. But she was smiling, her fingers playful. She had shaved Leethie the first time in their old tub, not long after they had moved into their little studio apartment. When they went to look at it together the first time Miranda had warned Leethie that the place was tiny.

"But it's super cute and the rent is cheap," Miranda had explained in a rush as they climbed the stairs. "But whatever, wait till you see the bathroom it's fucking amazing, it's as big as the kitchen and has an old-style Victorian pedestal sink and the biggest clawfoot tub I've ever seen!"

"It's fucking enormous," Leethie had gawked when she saw the tub.

"Told you!" Miranda had preened. She had known Leethie would love it, had told her so.

Leethie remembered the two of them squashed in front of the pedestal sink, not too long after they had moved in. They had been elbowing each other and bumping hips playfully as they brushed their teeth, but Leethie had turned in earnest as she handed the razor to Miranda.

'Because what better way to baptize that tub?' Leethie thought.

"Shave my legs," she'd told her. Miranda had looked at her in surprise, wiping the last of the toothpaste from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She'd still had bedhead. They had been out late the night before and were both feeling a little worse for wear. The apartment was quiet. Leethie dropped her towel and stepped into the tub and waited.

Miranda had looked nervously at the razor and then back to Leethie. This wasn't like Europe. It wasn't like after Leethie's dull date. This was the light of day. Leethie wasn't applying any force, they weren't "roughhousing" or drunk. She was commanding Miranda to fucking serve her like a slave and expecting her to obey. Leethie studied her.

Miranda's brow had creased, and her lip stuck out in a pout. She was struggling with herself. Guilt? Shame? But she was looking at Leethie's naked body. Miranda had seen Leethie undress plenty of times, had stolen looks, but she was really looking now, not pretending not to. Leethie felt no shame, had nothing to feel guilty about, she wasn't the one eating pussy after all. She stroked her thighs with her fingers.

"You should warm up first," Miranda said simply, and reached for the worn brass knob that controlled the tub's ancient shower head. The bathroom floor had a drain, and the walls were tiled, so rather than hang a shower curtain the girls treated the bathroom as a wet space. The downstairs neighbors had never complained.

Leethie smiled as she stepped back to the far end of the tub. She touched herself, enjoying a wave of triumph as Miranda fiddled and adjusted, then finally signaled to her with a small wave to enter the warm stream. "Here."

Leethie hadn't sexed-it-up, but she'd made a show of it, letting Miranda watch as the water warmed her skin. She soaped and washed her legs, took care to wash her breasts and pits, the crease of her ass, and her pussy. Miranda watched this all, biting her bottom lip between her teeth, before shutting off the water and watching her drip.

Miranda took off her nightshirt and the towel she'd had wound around her waist, hanging them both on the door before pushing her panties off and stepping out of them. She stepped into the tub and retrieved the misshapen bar of soap Leethie had been using. She squatted and began to run it over Leethie's legs, until she could make suds. Leethie raised her right foot onto the edge of the tub - like Washington crossing the Delaware - while Miranda scrubbed the other leg with both her hands, running them from her ankle, up her calf, over the knee, and up her thigh to just below the crevice separating thigh from pussy before sliding them back down to repeat the process until Leethie's leg was smothered in a thick lather.

Miranda's breath was ragged and shallow. Leethie switched feet so Miranda could do the other leg. She enjoyed seeing her stooped low, her hands working a lather up over ankle and calf, but when Miranda's hands were rubbing the soap over her thigh, fingers dangerously close to Leethie's pussy, eyes averted and cheeks burning, that had made Leethie wet, she had felt herself opening; a charge building.

'She doesn't need to look,' she thought with a smile, looking at how close Miranda's face was to her. 'She can smell me.'

Checking her work Miranda reached for the little razor. "You're stubbly," she admitted, rinsing the suds off her hands on the wet floor of the tub.

She had done a careful job, obviously a bit unsure at first - doing a familiar task from an unfamiliar angle, but Leethie could feel her getting the hang of the difference. As she shaved Leethie's thighs she had carefully avoided any contact with Leethie's pussy, had studiously avoided looking at it, at anything other than the immediate task at hand. Leethie waited to say anything until Miranda was finished.

"You're not done," she said; imperious. Leethie had known exactly the image she was projecting in that moment, her long lean legs spread as wide as the tub would allow. Her ass, tight and high, her narrow waist and rib cage. Her large breasts, standing out full and round, her nipples hard and long. She knew how much Miranda coveted them. That she wished she was as beautiful and womanly. Leethie felt herself flushing with pride, the pleasure of displaying herself this way was intoxicating. The absolute knowledge of the effect she was having on the girl humbling herself at her feet.

Miranda had looked up at Leethie. She thought of how much she had liked to watch Miranda sulk and huff in that moment. Miranda had known what was coming next, had hardened herself to rebel but as Leethie lowered herself to sit on the edge of the tub and spread her legs wide, Miranda's internal rebellion had visibly collapsed; shoulders slumping she yielded to the command.

Leethie remembered watching her back as she twisted to rinse the razor and wet her hands and the soap. She was so thin, so beautifully pale and petite. She had admired Miranda's beautiful square shoulders and lovely narrow rib cage, her pinched girlish waist, and her remarkably womanly ass. Leethie had told herself that her judgment of Miranda's beauty was platonic, but she had fought the desire to squeeze her with her thighs, gather her up in her arms and hold her tight.

"Damn black girl."

The jab hadn't engendered the usual howl of protest. But perhaps it was the way Leethie had delivered it, an appreciative whisper. Perhaps it was just the context, the two of them naked, Miranda about to shave and eat Leethie's pussy. Whatever it was, Miranda turned, a shy smirk on her face.

She crouched awkwardly, perhaps not wanting to take such an obviously subservient pose, thought better of it, and knelt. She picked up the soap and worked it in her hands, setting it down and rubbing her hands together until she again had a rich lather. Her gaze fixed on Leethie's pussy. Leethie, perched on the lip of the tub with her legs wide, stretched them wider, placing her right heel up on the edge of the tub beside Miranda's shoulder.

Miranda reached out, turning her hand over so her fingers faced out and down, gently rubbing the warm foam over the sensitive skin. She worked outward from Leethie's lips, soaping the surrounding area, her inner thighs, the mound of her mons, her fingers moving into the crack of Leethie's ass, she blushed as her finger touched Leethie's asshole. Nervously, hands trembling as she took the razor from its ledge, eyes focused and lips pulled between her teeth, Miranda steeled herself with a deep breath and set to task.

"Don't miss a spot," Leethie told her. "We want it perfectly smooth."

Working from the outside-in now, Miranda began with a few bold strokes. The concave spaces where Leethie's thighs met her crotch clearly worried Miranda and required a few tries. And as the razor moved closer to Leethie's labia she worked in smaller more tentative movements, tiny little virgules hardly even landing as they stroked her flesh. Eventually, she went over every rise and crease around Leethie's pussy. Using the fingertips of her free hand, slippery with soap Miranda tested her work, feeling for any random whisker, any imperfection until her skin was smooth and totally hairless.

She set the razor down, and twisted to turn on the shower, Leethie stayed on the edge of the tub, letting the steaming spray hit her, watching Miranda move under the spray to wipe away the residual soapy lather and admiring the work she had done. Leethie leaned forward, pressing her wet breasts against Miranda's face, and reached over her shoulder for the little brass knob. She turned off the water. Miranda was kneeling between Leethie's thighs, red face pressed against Leethie's wet breasts, her hand still touching her freshly shaved pussy.

"You're not done," Leethie told her. Miranda flushed a deeper red, but she didn't frown or whine. Instead, she put her hands on Leethie's hips, leaning back a little to admire her own handiwork, before bowing low. Leethie raised both her feet to the tub's edges, to either side of Miranda's shoulders, and leaned back against the tile wall. Miranda reached her tongue out and drew lines across Leethie's mons, trailing towards her labia, the growing smell of Leethie's arousal blending with the fragrance of the soap.

''Eat that pussy, Da!" Leethie moaned as Miranda pushed her tongue into her. Hands clawing at her ass pulling Leethie closer, to drive her tongue deeper. She was in danger of slipping off the lip of the tub, clutching the edge hard flexing with all her strength to keep herself in place.

"HAH!" she called, less a laugh and more an involuntary gust of pleasure, as Miranda's tongue pushed up and her lips descended, encircling Leethie's clit. She sucked hard for a moment, but then dropped again, her tongue sliding and pushing against Leethie's wet flesh. She had pushed her lips into Leethie. Letting them follow her tongue, her whole mouth given over to Leethie's pleasure, even the rhythmic hinging of her jaw adding to the dance. Miranda had looked up then, her eyes sparkling with a pleasure that had made Leethie's breath catch.

"You," Leethie had whispered, again husky with appreciation and wonder. Miranda opened her jaw wide, dragging her tongue upwards and again wrapping Leethie's clit in her lips, sucking hard. This time Leethie was already at the brink, she was holding

Miranda's head, pulling her to her, as she bucked and jerked.

"FUCK!" She slipped from the tub's edge, sliding wetly into the tub, Leethie's ass pushing Miranda's knees out from under her, the two of them in a wet bruising jumble, laughing and whinging as the aftershocks of Leethie's orgasm made her jerk and twitch under Miranda's weight.

Miranda had accepted shaving Leethie as one of her household duties. She'd had to be told, especially at first, but she warmed to the task, to her role. She had clearly looked forward to it, even reminding Leethie if she waited too long, which Leethie liked most of all. Leethie had enjoyed letting Miranda shave her legs, but watching Miranda shave her pussy was what really got her wound up.

"You know, I like this."

"What? The shave... the shower... the sauna?"

"Everything, all of it."

"I know. I missed this too..." Miranda didn't look up, focused on what she was doing, but she smiled shyly as she worked. And then, after a long pause, she asked, "Is it strange for you, hearing Thom and me?"

"No, it's good," Leethie lied, smiling down on her. "When I brought guys home, it made you jealous."

"It did," Miranda confessed, her face flushed, turned away in shame but then she had turned to look at Leethie. "But I liked it too... I couldn't help it. More than anything it turned me on... hearing you fucking... hearing you cum... I felt like you were doing it for me, partly."

Leethie thought of the sounds Miranda made while Thom fucked her, so high and joyful. She imagined making Miranda squeal like that. Thought of Miranda howling his name.

Leethie felt her mood souring, turning dark. A pensive silence filled the air, as Miranda finished the shave.

When Miranda had finished, they went outside to finish cooling down. Leethie was angry, felt ugly, and watching Miranda move about, hips rolling, carefree, felt resentful. Rather than take her usual place off to one side of the little bench on the deck, Leethie sat in the middle, legs spread. Miranda stopped and looked around guiltily.

"It's still light Leethie," she whined, looking out across the pasture in the direction of the old farmhouse, at the windows. "If he looks out, he might see."

"Then you better hurry." Leethie told her flatly, "so he doesn't."

Miranda was holding two bottles of beer. She screwed her face up as tears filled her eyes.

"Leethie, don't-"

"Now Miranda!"

Miranda's jaw went tight and she dropped onto one knee. Setting the beers down on the icy deck, she dropped onto her hands and knees and lowered her face between Leethie's legs, caving to her sense of duty.

'Obligation,' Leethie thought darkly.

Leethie reached for Miranda's hair, meant to grab it, to badger and force her, but instead, she pushed her fingers through the soft fine strands, petting her gently. She loved her hair, its strange mouse-gray color, so uniquely Miranda. They stayed there like that for a long time, Leethie petting Miranda, Miranda still, breathing hard, before Miranda broke the silence.