No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 06

Marcie remained silent.

"Go get a couple of mirrors from the bathroom...and do you have a flashlight?"

Marcie pointed vaguely to her desk drawer and left to retrieve some hand mirrors.

When she came back she made sure to close the door. She had thought she'd heard a noise but there didn't seem to be anyone in the house. Still she really didn't want to be surprised by her parents coming in on them.

"Okay. Hand me one of the them." Daryl was kneeling on the floor, her legs spread wider than her hips. She slipped the mirror between her legs.. "Take a look." She motioned for Marcie to come over.

Daryl held the flashlight in one hand and had peeled her vagina open with two fingers of the other hand. "Look into the mirror." Marcie looked down and saw her friend's slit held open by her fingers. Where Marcie's skin was alabaster white, Daryl's was tan, like a roasted marshmallow. The first thing she noticed was how her skin grew darker around her labia and then the deep pinkish purple of her vagina stood out in the glare of the flashlight.

She wriggled as she realized she was getting turned on. She didn't understand why. It felt so clinical, like she was looking at a textbook of a vagina, but she was so close, it was so intimate.

"There, you see that?" Daryl was pointing at a lump of skin just above her inner labia. "That's my clit. When I get really excited it comes out of its sheath a little." She paused and looked up. "You've never done this? Shit, my sister and my mom taught me this last year. It's important to know what you look like, Marcie. I mean, boys don't have any trouble, right? 'Cause their stuff is always in your face, but my mom was telling me women weren't allowed to look at themselves until she and her generation, as she likes to say, changed the rules. C'mon, you know what I'm talking about, right?"

Marcie nodded but couldn't look away from the image of her friend's vagina held open just a few feet away.

"Okay, let's see what yours looks like. Everyone's different!"

Marcie hesitated. She knelt down but wasn't sure she wanted to expose herself this way. More importantly, she was getting juiced up from the past few minutes and she was sure Daryl would notice.

"C'mon. I did it. Now you do it. It's important to look at yourself Marcie. Really!"

She split her legs open slowly, still fighting herself and then slipped the other mirror onto the floor. Looking down she positioned it so she could see the underside of the legs -- something she'd never done before. Daryl handed her the flashlight. She took it in one hand and as she'd seen Daryl do, slowly opened her lips. Her skin was pale around them, but they were a dark purple, framed by the black tangle of hair. They felt swollen and warm as she opened them, and she blushed with embarrassment to see a string of mucous stretch across them when she split them apart.

"Ohhhh, that's so cool. You're turned on, aren't you! Go. Don't let me stop you. Look at yourself."

She turned a dark red but didn't stop. Her inner lips were lighter and her channel was a bright pink, coated in a cloudy white cream. She closed her eyes, mortified she was so turned on.

"It's okay, Marcie. I think it's great you like to do this. Look. Look at your clit.

She forced herself to look at the mirror and saw the little nubbin she had only rubbed unseen. It was pushing itself out of a crease of skin and she knew what it would feel like if she touched it.

Daryl was staring at her, her legs still straddling her mirror, and she was tempted to touch herself, to see what it felt like when suddenly her bedroom door flew open and there was her stepmother staring at her, dark red and angry. Marcie fell over backwards in fright, dropping the flashlight and flailing to cover herself.

The memory of the humiliation from her step-mom that night came rushing back after years of suppressing it. Daryl had been asked to leave, raising even more questions from her parents...it was a horrific event, and its memory opened a crack in a shell Marcie had been building most of her adult life.

She jerked at the upwelling sense of shame.

"Marcie? Where did you go?" He was staring at her.

"I...I have to go, Monty. I can't stay here tonight...you understand, right? I can't possibly even go to the bathroom here. Can you take me back to my car?"

"But...sure." He would be patient. There was much more to this relationship than just sex. He knew it. He could sense it in the way she responded to the scenes...to her sensitivity...He had plenty of time.

* - * - * - *

As they drove to her car she was silent, working through the tumult in her brain and heart.

"Monty?"

He turned his head to acknowledge she had his attention.

"You know I'm seeing a therapist for this problem, right?" She couldn't remember how many times she'd mentioned it...

He nodded.

"Would you...would you be willing to speak with her? You can say no, if you don't want to..."

"You want me to see your therapist?"

"I know, it sounds...if you don't want to...sorry I brought it up." She shrunk into her seat, dying. She was fighting the memories of her first time being an exhibitionist and the terrible events that followed -- memories she had worked so hard to forget.

"It isn't a problem, Marcie. I'd be happy to see her. Is there something you expect will happen because I've seen her?" He didn't mind in the least, but he didn't understand what could possibly come of it.

"I don't know...it's stupid. I just thought, if the two of you could talk a little, maybe you could understand a little more about what I'm going through. I don't think I can communicate it very well."

"Okay. Just tell me who to call and I'll fit her in."

As he drove off she tried to stop him: he hadn't told her about his phone.

* - * - * - *

She walked into her condo terrified at being alone with the thoughts that had suddenly flooded her brain. What had started as a small crack in her psyche's armor was now a full-fledged breach and the full details of what happened after her step-mother caught her came rushing through.

She undressed quickly, shivering as if from the flu, but she knew she wasn't sick -- not from a virus. She knew she should write down her thoughts, or record them, or something -- that Patti would want to have the details of her feelings.

She wasn't tired, another reason she knew the shivering wasn't from an illness. She was all too awake, all the better to be aware of the memories. She through on a night-shirt and made herself a pot of tea. As the water heated she revisited the night of "Daryl's Dare" as she used to call it. God, I remember how awful that was -- it's been 10 years!

Her step-mother, Jane, called the two of them downstairs and demanded to know what was going on. Neither of them would answer her.

"An abomination," Jane practically yelled. "Young girls playing with themselves, exposing themselves -- it is devilry and I won't stand for it in my house. Now you tell me exactly what you were doing or there will be real hell to pay!"

The two of them looked at each other; they still couldn't think of anything more to say than they already had. They had told her at least part of the truth -- Daryl dared Marcie to run around the house naked. But her step-mom wouldn't accept it. Her father had long since shrugged his shoulders and gone to bed, leaving the two girls to fend for themselves.

"You are going home tonight, young woman, and I'll be certain your parents understand why you won't be invited back. And you, young lady. We'll have to see about you."

They were forced to wait downstairs until Daryl's parents came to pick her up, and only then was Marcie allowed to return to her bedroom.

Pouring the hot water into her cup she reflected on the deluge of memories suddenly overwhelming her. Hell week. That's what she had come to call it, what she thought about it every day until she finally left for college and was out from her step-mother's clutches.

She held her mug in her hands, steeping in the shame and humiliation of that week.

At breakfast the next morning her step-mother was waiting for her, flushed and angry.

"You understand you are grounded, young lady?"

Marcie nodded, head lowered.

"You understand there is a special circle of hell for prostitutes and...lesbians?"

She looked up at her completely confused and defiant. "I am no such thing!"

"You will not speak. You will not talk back to me. You admitted as much last night when that whore friend of yours dared you to expose yourself . Do not pretend to be innocent. I'll hear nothing of it. You will be punished and I can only hope it is enough to get these sinful thoughts and behaviors out of your life! No after-school activities this whole week. I will be here when you get home and I will see to it that you are properly trained to respect yourself!"

Marcie could only imagine what her step-mother had in mind, but she kept her anger and defiance to herself.

As promised, she was waiting for her on her return from school. "We will start with your room. You will clean your room. But because you can't be trusted, I will supervise. Now. Get upstairs."

Only it wasn't just a simple tidying up. Tears rolled down her cheeks at the memory of that first day. She sipped her tea hoping by letting the thoughts flow she could get through them. Obviously, suppressing them hadn't worked.

"Since you are obsessed by being a common whore who displays her body for any to see, let's see how funny it is to clean this room without a stitch of clothing on!"

Marcie gasped at the suggestion trying to protest.

"I'll hear none of it. Now. Every stitch. You think it's so much fun to display the body God gave you, then let's get to it. Now!"

She'd never seen her step-mother so angry: her face flushed, her hands sweeping through the air. Marcie feared if she didn't do something, the woman would hit her. She backed away until she was literally and figuratively up against the wall and didn't know what to do.

"I'm not kidding you little hussy. Off with those clothes! You think this is such a big fun game. Now, or your week will turn into a month!"

Marcie cried as she unbuttoned her shirt, sliding it off her.

The tears flowed down her face in her kitchen just thinking about the pain and anguish of that moment.

"You have a lot of work to do, slut. And so do I. I can't just sit around all day waiting for you. Let's go!"

She unsnapped her jeans, slipping her shoes and socks off at the same time. Standing in her room, sobbing, her crazed step-mother staring at her she couldn't compute what was happening. As she unsnapped her bra and slid her panties down, it was as if another person was doing it. As if she were someplace else, watching her like a lab experiment.

In her kitchen she studied that scene over and over again and the ones that followed, the tears she couldn't shed way back when now pouring out of her.

"Hmmmm...is that the way you keep yourself?" Jane stared at her tangle of pubic hair. "Do you not have any pride in your appearance? You run around naked like a banshee, well I suppose you don't care that you look the part!"

Marcie just stood, blushing at being exposed this way, her hands trying to cover herself up.

"Well? What are you standing around for? Get this place cleaned up! We'll deal with your personal hygiene tomorrow!"

Her step-mother had her begin by picking up her clothes and putting them into a pile. As she worked, she would criticize her, insult her and suggest how ugly she was, that her figure was all wrong, her breasts too small. After an hour, the room now more tidy, she left Marcie in shock, informing her she would remain naked until her father came home, and that for the entire week she was to remain undressed the moment she came into the house until her father returned from work.

She spent the rest of that day holed up in her room staring at the walls looking at herself in the mirror trying to resolve the terrible words Jane had used.

Around dinner time she got dressed, expecting to be called down any minute, but as she was pulling her shirt over her head, her step mother opened her door.

"Not so fast, you little jezebel. Your father won't be home for awhile -- some union meeting or another. It'll just be you and me for dinner, and since you seem to enjoy exposing yourself, you'll continue to be naked."

Marcie tried to plead with her, apologizing over and over, but there was no negotiating. She pulled off her shirt and bra, slipped out of her panties and reluctantly followed Jane downstairs. As she passed through the entry hall she panicked at the idea of someone being able to see her from outside. She skittered quickly through to the nook, realizing that any of their neighbors could see her through the windows facing the back yard.

"Get yourself some milk and sit down. You will do grace tonight." Jane was curt and obviously angry, but at least had stopped insulting her directly.

As Marcie sat at the table she realized she was getting aroused in spite of the horrible shame and humiliation...or maybe because of it. The thought frightened her; the feelings causing her to squirm a little.

Dinner passed almost without a word, Marcie feeling more than ridiculous sitting there with her breasts exposed, her sex starting to moisten.

After dinner, her mother excused her. "I expect you to remain naked tonight while you do your homework, and prepare for bed. In fact," she paused, "you will sleep naked tonight since you seem to think it is so much fun."

Marcie just shook her head and returned to her room.

She stood up to refill her mug, the details of the trauma returning unbidden and unstoppable. She sobbed from the pain and misery she hadn't been able to express back when it had happened.

The next day at school she was still so traumatized she barely spoke a word. After 2^nd period, Daryl cornered her in the girl's bathroom.

"What the fuck happened last night?" She was genuinely concerned for Marcie. "My folks were absolutely fucked up about it."

"I'm sorry." She couldn't think of anything else to say. She felt miserable.

"Sorry? You've got nothing to be sorry for. Your step-mom is a complete psycho! When I told my parents what we had been doing and that she must have been spying on us, they both told me I couldn't go back over there...not because of you. Because of her!"

Marcie just shook her head, washed her hands and left. She couldn't bear to tell Daryl what Jane had forced her to do the day before, or the prospect of the rest of the week.

She arrived home to find Jane waiting for her at the door, the expression on her face requiring no words. Marcie put down her backpack and promptly undressed in the front hall.

"Fold those clothes neatly, you little prostitute, and carry them up to your room along with your backpack. We'll continue to clean your room today and then we'll see about cleaning you!"

Marcie did as she was told, reluctantly carrying her things upstairs worrying all the while about what Jane's threat might mean.

Her step mom joined her in her room a little while later.

"I've been meaning to clean out your dresser for months. This will be as good a time as any. Let's start with the top drawer."

Marcie opened the drawer and began to pull everything out onto the floor. Each time she bent over she knew she was exposing herself to her step-mother. She grew more frightened with each movement as the sense of being naked in such close quarter was once again turning her on. She was certain she must be some kind of pervert for feeling this way.

She sipped her tea remembering that second day of punishment. She remembered now she had been certain Jane was going to find something in her drawers -- something innocent in any other context -- that would become an excuse for Jane to punish her. Except for the mounting anxiety and fear from her increasing arousal, the exercise ended without further incident.

Perhaps that was why Jane had become enraged.

"When you have put that box of give-away stuff in the garage, you may return upstairs. We will see about your personal hygiene next."

Marcie practically was shaking as she brought the box down to the garage. She had to pass several windows, and though the box covered her front almost completely, anyone coming to the door would see she was stark naked. In the garage, she had to get close to the overhead door with its row of windows at chest height. If any of the neighbors happened to look at just the right moment they would see her breasts flashing behind the glass. She rushed back upstairs, in spite of what she suspected awaited her.

"Come into the bathroom, Marcie." The voice wasn't harsh, but it had a steely quality to it that sent a shiver up her spine. She swore silently to herself that she was even more turned on -- her nipples were erect and moisture was beading up on her labia.

Jane was standing next to the bath tub. On the counter was a razor, shaving cream and towel. As she took in the shaving paraphernalia and tried to process what was going to happen to her, her eyes grew wide at what was in Jane's hands: an enema bag and tube, along with a douche.

"It's clear to me, Marcie," Jane said softly, the threat clear in her voice, "you don't know how to take care of yourself. You've let your pudenda overrun. No doubt you are not properly cleansing your colon or your womanly parts either. Today, and every day this week, you will clean yourself thoroughly. So that I know you know how to do a proper job, I will help you today. We will start with your colon."

Jane pointed to the towel draped over the bathtub rim, obviously implying Marcie was to bend over it. She started to protest, but Jane only grew more angry, until Marcie simply shut down and kneeled over the towel.

"Hold yourself open so I can slip this in."

She put her hands back and spread her cheeks, tears of shame and humiliation overflowing her eyes. The tube, covered in lubrication, easily slipped into her pink ring, penetrating her. She could feel the tip of it moving higher and higher into her colon, the intrusion forcing a spasm, not only on her sphincter at her anus, but deep within her. She'd never had anything inside her before and she moaned from the pain.

"That's enough out of you. We need to make sure you are properly cleaned; no doubt the toxins inside you are helping the devil's work."

Marcie became convinced in that moment her step-mother was insane, but with the enema tube now deeply buried insider she wasn't in a position to protest. Moments later, Jane declared it was ready and Marcie felt hot water flow into her colon. She struggled to keep the liquid in her as the pressure against her anus built.

"Please. Please Jane. It hurts. It's too much. Please stop."

"You'll stop it now, Marcie. It's just a little hot water. It will clean out the poisons in your colon. Now just shush and hold it in."

She closed her eyes and hoped the spasming would pass. She breathed as deeply and regularly as she could, focusing on green pastures and butterflies, ponies and blue skies, until Jane told her to stand up.

She was certain as soon as she moved water and shit would explode out of her ass and she begged her to let her sit on the toilet and eliminate. It was no use. She groaned as she pushed herself up off the rim of the bathtub with her hands, her belly distended from the liquid, the tube wriggling in her hole.

"Stand up! Stop dawdling. We have a lot to do still."

Apparently Jane expected her to do much more than just stand up. She pushed against the bathtub and brought her knees off the ground, trying to move in one gentle motion to a standing position. The pain from the liquid was almost enough to make her faint, but somehow she found herself standing, her anus pulsing against the tube, her colon cramping trying to expel the liquid.