The Freedom Ch. 04

"He tried to slap me away but wouldn't commit to it. I'm sure he told himself that it was because it would alert his wife to what's going on, but I know it's just because he really did not want me to stop. He quickly gave up and I could hear him fidgeting with everything on his desk to try and stay in control. Then he tried to shoo his wife off on this task or that with her repeatedly rebuffing his attempts, telling him she wanted to make sure she got everything out before she left so she wouldn't forget.

"I realized he was in dire straits, set to lose control at one moment, and decided not to ease off and wait for his wife to finish but rather to go all out and make sure she knew what I was doing, what her husband was letting me do. I took him deep over and over again, I let my saliva coat him, I jerked him off while I focused on the head. Soon, the wife was asking if he heard a noise as I hummed contently around her man's dick. He tried so hard to resist me but even men of God are powerless before a cum hungry 18 year old girl with no shame.

"He shouted out my name and then a string of obscenities that, normally would be hurtful but in this moment just thrilled me. His wife yanked his chair back from the desk just in time to see his first spray of sin coat my chin. I dove forward and took him in my mouth again, pump after pump of cum coating my tongue, filling my cheeks. When he was done, I pushed him pack further and stood before his wife, mouth filled with her husband's seed, chin dripping with it. She stood, pale and stunned. Behind us, the pastor babbled apologies.

"I grabbed her roughly and pulled her to me. She did not resist. I chuckled as best I could with my mouth full and pressed her lips to mine, slipping my tongue between her lips. She was surprisingly responsive, opening wider. I pushed her man's weakness into her mouth and she fed some back to me. I broke the kiss, smiled at her, and left, chin still coated, whistling 'Glory, Glory.'"

"Damn," I exhaled, "What happened to them?"

"No idea. Stopped caring the moment he came. Although she was a good kisser..."

Was the story true? I have no idea how under the influence of The Freedom she already was. All I know was it certainly felt true to me.

"Well, I don't have any cum for us to swap at the moment, but I've been told I kiss well," I shyly offered, my hands clasping her breasts underneath the tank but over the shelf bra.

Without another word, she rotated around and leaned in, parting her lips. I met her halfway, my tongue tracing the outside of her lips before disappearing between them. She tasted like cotton candy...of course she did. She half squeaked and raised her arms over her head, a none-too-subtle request. I enthusiastically gave her what she wanted, pulling the top over her head before depositing it on the other end of the room. She cooed in self satisfaction as my hands encircled her heavy breasts, marveling at how soft they were. D's, I thought, easily, but with no sign of Freedom enhancement. Yet, at least. I was simultaneously hit with figure jealousy and pure lust. If I couldn't have breasts like hers, I would have them, if you catch my drift.

My lips slid to her ear and I uttered an oath, "I'm going to make you cum so hard."

"How?" she groaned, her beautiful tits pressing into my still clothed tiny, firm ones. The heat of her desire was undeniable through the thin fabric of the sundress.

"I'm going get on my knees," I began.

"Mmmhmm..."

"I'm going to take off whatever sexy panties you've got on with my teeth."

"Oh god..."

"Then I'm going to bury my face in your pretty little pussy. I want to tell you I'll hold back, I'll be gentle, but I can't. You've got me way too turned on to hold back."

"Oh fuck," she hissed, burying her head in my neck and nipping at it, "That sounds sooooo hot."

"Good," I replied, "Here I go then."

She grasped me hard around the shoulder, ceasing my progress. I looked up into her eyes and was suddenly very aware that she still did not have the ring. The Freedom grew unsettled in me. It quivered, in so far as a foreign chemical/viral agent without form can quiver, with a mix of frustration and confusion. It's "feelings" transferred to me as well and I struggled to process what was happening.

"I want this," she assured me, "God, I want it so damn bad. I've been fantasizing about women for...my whole life I guess. It was forbidden back home though...sinful, you know? Anyways, I want you to...to make me cum..."

She trailed off, clearly a bit undone by hearing her say those words, before picking up again, "I can't believe how amazing your body is or how wonderfully you kiss. But...I want to do this right. Just because I like girls doesn't mean it can't be special and romantic still, right?"

I practically vibrated in places, the wheels of my mind seized. The Freedom seemed unable to process the idea that she wanted to be with me but that it couldn't get to her. She wasn't resisting it, it literally could not take hold in her.

"I'd love to go on, like, a date or something though," she continued, seemingly oblivious to my full body paralysis, "And we can definitely makeout. I LOVE making out. Just nothing...more intense for now. Is that cool?"

I stared unblinking, every cognitive ability apparently derailed.

"Ow!" she squeaked, "You're hurting me!"

Somehow, I was able to shift my eyes enough to see my nails tug deep into her arms. A thin line of blood trickled between my first and middle finger.

"Whatever, you fucking tease," I mumbled, letting her go and moving, almost robotically, back toward the dresses. In my head everything was silent. The Freedom whispered nothing, suggested nothing, but my conscience, my thoughts had not returned to their rightful place either. It seemed I could experience sensation, that I could move, but otherwise...there was no there there.

"Please don't be like that," she called after me, reaching to button and zip her pants back up, "I didn't mean to...It just...I was just so excited and out of my head for a second there, but I don't even know you name and—oh!"

A moment later, "I don't feel quite right...my wrist...it burns. Can you—"

Silence

"My head," she almost lisped, "Something funny in my head. Like...voices? A voice? Such...horrible things. Oh god...I'm wet. Why am I so wet? What's...please...can you get help? I...something's wrong. I...what...voice....I neeeeeee..."

The room went quiet. I stood, body swaying back and forth as if I was a young tree in a light breeze. Otherwise there was no motion.

Then, bubbling up behind me, thick and slippery, came Christa's voice. Her new voice.

"I changed my mind," she pouted in that Freedom voice.

Like that, The Freedom came alive in me again, spinning, twisting, twirling its way back into every nerve, every neuron. Full motion returned, the constant depraved whisper spoke its syrupy corruption once more. I spun back to her and took in the sight.

Christa was facing me, body inclined with her back against the wall. She gazed at me through sleepy eyes, burning lime green. A wicked grin twitched on her lips, the tip of her almost red tongue just visible. She had stripped off her pants which sat in a reckless heap feet away. Her bare legs seemed shiny, like Gwyneth Paltrow's when she does the talk show circuit. One knee pressed against the outer shin of the other leg, doing nothing to obscure the seat of her desire. Her bright pink boy shorts were almost transport with the evidence of her lust.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties on either side before I stopped her with a growl.

"What did I say?"

She smirked and played coquettish and naïve, "I don't remember."

"Really?"

"Uh uh," she twirled her hair and bit her lip.

"That I'd be pulling those off you with my teeth?"

"These?" she whispered, letting her eyes grow wide as she ran one hand down the front of her underwear and choked back a moan.

I nodded in reply.

"But then...then you'll see my pussy."

"Yup," I admitted, taking one step forward.

"And I'm so wet right now I'll just be dripping all over this bench."

I licked my lips and signaled agreement.

"Are you going to make me do bad things?"

"Very, very bad," I whispered, going down to my hands and knees and beginning to crawl towards her.

She groaned and shook as if I had already touched her, "Love seeing you on your hands and knees."

"You do this to me. You make me so weak."

"Mmmm, good. You make me so wicked, so it's only fair."

As I reached her, she spread her legs wide, her lips pushing against the sopping fabric. I purred reflexively.

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this," she moaned dramatically as she ran her fingers up and down her cloth covered labia, "I don't even know your name."

"It's Wendy," I announced with a wink leaning forward. My incisors sunk into sodden fabric, giving me my first taste of her essence. She wriggled her hips as I pulled back and down, aiding me in exposing her needy sex.

"Mmmm," I whispered approvingly, gently tracing her bald sex with my nails, "Beautiful. Perfect."

"Are you just going to appreciate it or are you going to make me scream?" Christa blurted out, her Freedom voice mixing with horny impatience and husky yearning.

"Well, it is a work of art," I teased.

"Come on," she groaned, thrusting her hips towards me.

"Come on what?"

"Please..."

"Tell me what you want, you bad girl."

"I...can't," she lied, a small smile flickering across her face, so briefly I almost miss it.

"Tell me!" I demanded.

"Taste me," she begged.

I placed both hands on her wonderfully smooth legs and slowly leaned forward keeping my eyes on hers the entire time. Languidly, I licked her slit, gingerly separating her labia further, upward to the clit in one single motion and pulled back. I hummed contentedly as I spun her flavor around in my mouth, coating my tongue.

Her single, sharp gasp of enjoyment quickly turned to a whimper of disappointment.

"What," I mocked, "You just told me to taste you."

"More," she whispered, her neon green eyes wide with pleading.

"More what?"

"Please," she said, almost shaking.

"I tasted you," I said, insufferably, "If you wanted something else, you really need to be more specific."

Again, "Please..."

"Please what?"

"Please...please eat my pussy!" she begged, even her honeyed Freedom infused voice not able to suppress the cracking caused by her indigence.

I smiled, broad and easy, but held off a moment longer. She looked down at me, face a tableau of lust, The Freedom's easy to recognize depravity, and an utter acceptance of my power over her. I felt a chill of arousal go through my body at the sight of it and leaned forward, ever so gently grazing her clit with my nose. With a high pitched whine, she roughly grabbed my head and forced it fully against her cunt.

"Fucking bitch!" she spat, in a low, coiled tone before my tongue dipped inside her and reduced her to coos of ecstasy. I happily indulged her begged for desire, alternating between deeper strokes, teasing quick licks, nibbling, and sucking. Her legs clapped over my back, her fingers wrapped themselves tighter in my hair. Her smell was all over me, her syrupy liqueur dominating all my sense. I feasted on her as though her sex was the sweetest fare I had ever had opportunity to taste and The Freedom "convinced" me of that truth.

I had never gone down on a woman before, but in that moment, my mind was flooded with all manner of false remembrances of past female conquests. I had never gone down on a woman before, but with The Freedom pulsing through me I was an expert and I lived for it.

I managed a look up to Christa, my bouncing blonde bauble and caught her staring at each of the mirrored panels of the dressing room, watching herself receive pleasure, watching herself react to pleasure. Each glance seemed to only make her more turned on, to coat my nose, lips, teeth, mouth, and tongue further.

Soon, she began to thrash. Initially it was a short quick shudder here and there. Before long, she was bucking and twisting as though starring in an early January demonic possession movie. I held her down as best as I could and wrapped my lips around her clit. As she jerked and shook, it was all I could do to hold on.

Christa moaned and groaned, shouting out compliments: "Oh God! So good. Oh fuck, don't stop. No one...no one's ever made me feel this good," desperate attempts at homophobic insults, "You fuckin' lezzie, doing this to me. Making me your little dyke slut, your plaything. I like guys, not girls. You're making me be like this," and weirdly inappropriate poetry readings, "Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home."

Then, in a long, nonsensical screech, she fully climaxed, arching her back, shoving her breasts skyward, and tightening her legs hold on my body. As she reached the other side of the orgasm, she went nearly limp, limbs flopping with all the strength of rain soaked newspapers.

"Your turn," she murmured shortly after and attempted to stand, finding the flesh unwilling. With a heave, I pulled her to ground and climbed on top of her, naked flesh on naked flesh.

"Wait," she began to object before I silenced her with a kiss. She moaned into my open mouth, tasting herself off a woman's lips for the first time and, quite obviously, loving it.

"But I want to make you cum," she requested as I let her get a breathe of air.

"And so you will," I promised, my lips returning to her once more, my hands exploring her warm dewy skin.

"How?" she moaned as I lowered my mouth to her turgid nipple, languishing it with brief kisses and long, deep sucks.

"I'm going to fuck this tit," I replied, feeling myself go even wetter at the mere thought of it. I registered her eyebrows raising curiously and I explained further, "I'm going to get on top of you and you are going to let me use your breast as my personal sex toy until I'm sated. I'm going to grind my clit all over this nipple until I cum as hard as I want."

She rapidly bobbed her head up and down in affirmation of the idea, unconsciously licking her lips.

"Would you like that? Would you like to just lie there and let me use you for my personal pleasure?"

"Mmmhmm," Christa confirmed, eyes already glassy at the thought of it.

"But what will your parents think? Or those fellow churchgoers back home?"

She groaned at the thought of it, a dangerous smile playing across her lips. She began to touch herself and I slapped her hand away.

"My turn," I reminded her.

"But..." she began to object before crumbling at the sight of my glare. With a dramatic pout, she moved her hand away from her body onto mine.

She gently stroked my skin, her fingers teasing her inch of flesh she could reach. Upon reaching my neck, she pushed my chin upward, forcing me away from her nipple, our eyes connecting. "Use me," she whispered, eyes wide and wanting.

I smiled at her, a smile at once friendly and predatory, comforting and dark, and slipped from her grasp. I stood, feeling her eyes rake my body top to bottom, staring with blatant, unfettered craving. I made her wait for it, standing over her, lightly swaying, running my hands up and down my flesh with an almost indifferent air. She whimpered and moaned, biting her lip, digging her hands into the store's cushy designer carpet. She desperately resisted her urge to touch me or herself, to feel skin, to make pleasure.

When I saw that desperation begin to curdle, her open mouth begin to twist into a sneer, I straddled her and lowered myself slowly, oh so slowly, down until my slit pushed against her breast, opening to let it into me. Her nipple pushed up against my clit, two hard, pink centers of pleasure seeking out each other. I groaned at the electric pulse of sex that arced through use. Holding as long as I could into that position, statute still, I gazed down at my prey, eyes no doubt blazing the sickly neon green of The Freedom. She stared up at me, eyes burning as well, a mix of rage and lust twisting her features. I imagined her family looking at her face now and most likely finding the visage incomprehensible to them, their Christa and yet, not their Christa. The Freedom made monsters of us all.

When I could take the delicious torturous tension of it no longer, I began to rock, slowly first and then faster and faster. Christa's tit quickly grew slick with my want for her. Soon my honey began to drip beyond the union of our skin, running down her tanning bed tope skin and pooling in the small recess of between her breasts, following the track of her sternum.

She reached for my hips, needing to feel me. Her thin, slight fingers grasped at me, the pale pink nails digging in. She pulled at me, urging me to go faster. I put up a token resistance, but neither I nor The Freedom's heart was in it. I wanted to do as she asked, as I planned to. I wanted to use her, to cum all over her, to baptize her into our new world where there was only pleasure and pleasure came from everything: men, women, sex, violence, and, most of all, breaking others and bringing them into the joy that The Freedom offered.

"Do I feel good?" she groaned, arching her back to push her tit more firmly against me.

"Mmmmm," I mumbled in response, tossing my head back, my eyes growing narrow.

"Does my breast please you?"

Dragging my head forward once more, I sought out her face through the tiny slits of my eyelids. When I caught her eyes, I nodded. I could feel her shudder in reaction, my approval bringing her pleasure.

"You look incredible," she complimented me, her voice full of wonder, "So perfect right now."

"Are you mine?" I ask, my heads cupping my breasts, my hips swiveling clockwise, my eyes fully closing.

"Yessss," she hisses in affirmation.

"I can have you whenever I want?"

"However you want," she added.

"You know what to do when I'm through with you today?"

"Fuck everyone," she replied, her breath growing ragged at giving voice to it, "Fuck everyone and help them become."

"Good girl..."

She objected, "No...not good at all."

"Bad girl?" I offered.

"Yesssss," she hissed once more and I could feel her literally vibrate below me.

"Are you my bad girl?"

"God, yes!"

"Are you my naughty little slut?"

"Yes, Wendy, I'm yours any way you want me. Command me, please!"

"Mmmm...watch me cum," I ordered her, "Watch how I use you and appreciate how lucky you are that I give you this honor."

She said nothing in reply, only moaned and dug her digits even deeper into my hip and thigh. I complied with her unspoken request and pushed myself harder and harder against her supple breast.

As I grew closer, I began to tease her, "Should I let you cum too?"

"On—only if it pleases you, Wendy."

"I bet you want me too though, don't you?"

"I...I just want to do what you tell me."

"If I told you after I leave, you must bring The Freedom to as many as you can, but you yourself can never cum, would you comply?"

"Please—" she moaned, sounds almost as though she were in agony.

"What was that?" I rebuked her.

"I—Nothing... nevermind. Yes, of course I would, if it was what you wished, Wendy."

"All those cocks...all those tits...those beautiful, wet pussies and you wouldn't be tempted at all?"

She said nothing for a moment then sighed hard and spoke, "I...serve you."

"Liar!" I accused.

Again she moaned, "Please..."

"Please what?"

"Please don't do this to me," she broke, "I need to cum so bad, Wendy. You're so beautiful and you make me so damn wet. I'll do whatever you tell me, but please...I want you to see me cum...I think it'll please you."

"I think it'll please you and that's all you care about," I shot back in a series of rapid breaths. This power play was undeniably arousing. The Freedom was feeding on her desire to please me running up against the pathological need for climax it causes in its recipients and that feedback filtered into me, driving my arousal.