Broke Blondie Pt. 02

I didn't know what that meant. And I was as excited as I was afraid to find out--but mostly excited. "You smell like hot garbage." She didn't actually smell that bad. Frankly she smelled nice--her feet not included. Kris took care of her hygiene; her choice of time of when to do this to me was either a coincidence or by her design.

She seemed happy that I gave her that answer, and took her shoe away from my face. Swiftly she slid her black socks off her feet and brought them to my lips. "Open."

"Fuck. No."

"Suit yourself." She trapped my nose between her knuckles, and waited, while still with her other hand clutching my hair. "Those socks are going into your nasty mouth in one........two.....three....four--" I gaped to take a breath, and she shoved them both in. "Bon appetit."

I gave a muffled shriek as the stinging, hot sweat touched my tongue. The fabric was damp and moist. My eyes fluttered as I felt my saliva wash away the sweat. Kris barely managed to contain her laughter as she looked down at me, pure ten-year-old joy in her eyes as she kept my mouth shut with her hand. "Hope you're enjoying the taste. I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. No matter how dirty those socks are, they're probably still a tad cleaner than your filthy--hurtful mouth."

For a brief moment, I stopped struggling, and just gazed up into her eyes. The joy and determination on her face...she was having the time of her life. I would fight so much more, and would hate her so much more, if it weren't for the fact that I was as excited as she. My face grew red as I felt that tingle make its way to my crotch. There was no denying it anymore... I had sexual pleasure from this. But regardless of that, I wanted it to be over. Kris obviously didn't.

She leaned back again. Her knees left my arms, which allowed me to try and push her off me for a couple of seconds before she grabbed my wrists.

"You know..." She said, actually raising her bare foot and resting it on the side of my face. "Too many fights... we had too many fights over this. I think it's about time you start acting like a grownup and stop making a fuzz about everything." She shoved her other sole on my face, and started wiping her feet up and down, not even trying to be nice or gentle about it. No. She did it like there was a gum stuck on her sole and she wanted to get rid of it. Her soles pulled harshly on my lips and cheeks... I must've looked ridiculous.

Her soles were soft and sweaty, feeling hot against my cheeks. They didn't have the worst touch. "You're just too uptight love." She said, "What? You think just cause you're all blonde and pretty and cute you get to be mean to us common folks."

Common folks! I was the unpaid house maid in this house.

The smell and the taste just kept building my pleasure up, and I grew scared of not being able to contain myself for long. I wasn't about to climax, but something was sure to come out of me that would reveal the sick pleasures bolting through me.

Suddenly, she lifted her butt from my stomach, but kept her feet firmly planted where they were, which put all her pressure on my face. For a moment I was relived, cause her pressure on my stomach was making it harder for me to keep the moan I was holding, but then--probably worried about crushing my face-- she sat back down with a thud.

And then it happened. That slam on my stomach forced the loudest, most girlish, high-pitched moan to shoot out of my mouth and ring through the living room.

The feet that were making a doormat out of my face froze at once. And Kris let go of my wrists, letting them fall to the ground. The silence of the air left no doubt in my mind that yes she heard it and yes she knew what it was. Shortly after, her feet slid to either side of my head, and she leaned forward to look at me. Her face was between shock and confusion, with her eyes wide and her lips pursed.

"Okay..." She cleared her throat with a cough. "...Well that was..." she nodded, not knowing what to say. A thin smile gradually made it to her face before she continued, "Let me just..." she inserted the tips of two fingers into my mouth and eased out her disgusting pair of socks. My face, red with anger shame and a blushing pleasure, probably communicated that I couldn't mouth a single word. So she rose to her feet. "Okay... Hope you..." she rose a finger, jokingly scolding me. "...Learned your lesson and all...okay bye...I'm going in for a shower." And she skimmed to the bathroom.

I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she was thinking right now. The tiny ounce of respect she might've had for me was surely gone now that she heard my fucking moans over what had to be the most humiliating ordeals of my life.

As I lay on the ground, my only hope was that she too was enjoying it on a similar level. But, even if that was the case, I still felt ashamed. For her to enjoy doing this to me, wouldn't necessarily be normal, but at least understandable; I imagined it was such a power trip for her, to be able to do that to another girl, especially one older, to humiliate and bully her and get away with it. She'd be condoned for that. But for me to feel anything but disgust and utter shame over what she did to me was disgusting at best, anyone would think that; Kris would, and now she knew about it--or at least suspected it.

The following days were tormenting. Nothing happened. There was an air of awkwardness between us and we barely spoke, and when we did, Kris was extra friendly, for some reason. I guess she wanted to get it to me that it was all alright.

But even though nothing was happening, and the relationship was as normal as I always wanted it, I was anxious. I knew that once the wave of awkwardness would pass, she'd go back to her old ways. If anything, the last incident would only make it easier for her to bully me. Her roommate whom she enjoyed to treat like shit wouldn't only take it, but enjoy it, perhaps ask for it. I didn't know if she believed that, but I believed that sooner or later that was exactly what was going to happen.

That thought only motivated me further to run. Living with Kris was turning me into a person I didn't want to be, one that enjoyed being bullied, humiliated, degraded, fucking slapped around and treated like shit. I didn't even want to think about being that pathetic excuse of a woman. I mean... it brought me more and more sexual pleasure the more I surrendered for it but... who said it was right for someone to run after their lust, especially when they were this fucked up. But I couldn't deny the fact that I was hopeless to resist her, whether physically or mentally.

But I could run. And right now that was exactly what I was about to do. I was at the door, with my suitcase in hand. In it were most of the stuff I moved in here with, and some of the things Kris bought for me, and...a good chunk of her money; Kris was at a friend's house, and I was about to rob her and leave forever. I didn't take that much...only enough for a couple of month's rent and expenses--five to six months if I spend it wisely--which would be enough to help me get by until I'd find a job.

The door was already open, but something was nailing my feet to the ground. I couldn't decide what it was for sure. I mean... I didn't think I had a conscience, one that would stop me from robbing a small, tiny portion of my rich bully of a roommate's wealth. She trusted me; she didn't even try to hide where she kept her money. She opened the bag more than once in front of me to give me money for the cap or when we went shopping. She never thought I'd do something as low as the thing I was trying to do now. Who knew I would draw the line on robbing the girl who had literately picked me up from the streets; I didn't.

Or maybe it was just that I really wanted to stay here, and potentially relive the intoxicating experience that Kris had introduced me to. Whatever it was, it forbade me from leaving.

So later that night, me and her were in the living room, I watching TV on low volume, she drawing on the tab on her lap.

Out of nowhere, I said what I had been wanting to say since she came home. "I almost robbed you today." I didn't look at her cause I didn't want to see her reaction, but I could feel her puzzled eyes suddenly staring at the side of my face.

Her confusion took a while to pass, before I heard her shuffling on the couch. "Why--" She cleared her throat. "What?"

"I almost robbed you today."

"...Why didn't you?"

I looked at her now, and only managed to give a shrug.

She took her time. We just looked at each other blankly for a while. I guess she was thinking about either why I almost robbed her, or why I just decided to tell her.

"Do you mean..." She put her tab on the couch and sat more comfortably facing me. "Do you mean you were leaving?"

"...Yeah."

"...And you changed your mind?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Who the fuck knows." I said.

"..." She paused, her face between confusion and worry. "Do I need to start hiding my money from you now?"

"It depends." I smiled sarcastically.

"On?"

"On whether you're gonna keep treating me like shit."

My comment made her recoil, before she smiled. "Fair enough." She didn't seem particularly excited about talking about it, but my serious staring demanded an answer. And fortunately, she took me seriously this time. "I just find it... fun..." She shrugged, seeming slightly ashamed of a guilty pleasure. "I just find it fun to... pick on you sometimes. Is that so bad?"

"Yes."

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Well I do... so can you just--" My frustration for some reason rose that moment. "Can you just... stop it. Look I need this place. I do. But I promise I'll find a way to get the fuck out of here if you keep behaving like that. Nothing is worth this. Hell, I wouldn't be bullied this much if I was living on the damn streets."

"Like you'd handle living in the street for more than a day." she scoffed jokingly. "Please huh. You're hardly handling living in an apartment with a me."

She wasn't really laughing but she was trying to change the discussion, and I didn't play along. She sighed in frustration in response to my persistent serious face, then said, "Be my guest. Go live on the streets if you don't like living here." She gestured towards the door.

"...I'm not bluffing." Something told me she liked me being here, too much to accept the idea of me leaving this easily. "I'll really leave!"

She shrugged, and picked up her tablet again and continued drawing. I didn't know what to say to that. She just told me to beat it. Considering that I was totally bluffing, a butt-hurt frown occupied my face as I returned my attention to the TV.

Then after a couple of minutes I heard, "I'm sick and tired of you pretending you're not into this."

It felt like a slap to the face in more ways than one, but eventually I composed myself and replied. "Excuse me. What?"

She looked at me, then, confused by my show of confusion--which was really just fear--she puffed and said, "Please... As if you didn't almost climax while I was making a literal doormat out of your face."

"That wasn't..." my confidant words were cut short. She was right on the money, and I hoped I was a good-enough actress to deny it. "I was groaning."

"Moaning."

"No I wasn't!" I chuckled nervously.

"Moaning like a bitch in heat."

"Shut up." I whined.

She shut up, but not before giving me one of her slappable teasing smiles.

My cheeks were blushing and I was too angry to say a word, but as soon as I could, I spat, "And I'm straight... by the way. In case you don't know."

"..." She rose her eyebrows at me as if she realized something. "Oh."

"Yeah..." I nodded, feeling a small victory.

"...Still in the closet I see." She nodded and continued drawing.

"What--what? What?" I snickered, resisting the urge to lunge at her.

"Come on, it's obvious."

"I'm sorry! You know my sexuality, but I don't?"

"I dunno." She looked up, pretending to think. "I always thought I'm good at spotting these things in people."

I stayed silent, partially because I didn't know what to say, and partially because I was genuinely curious to hear what she had to say. Considering the utter madness that had been wagging in my body ever since I'd met her, I was curious to know what she saw in me. I mean... I was pretty sure I was straight, but, I was also sure a while back that I would never in a million years get any kind of pleasure from being pinned down by another girl and made to sniff her dirty gym shoe.

She looked at my awaiting face, then put her tablet back down and said, "Okay like...I dunno... when you first approached me at the bar. I felt like I was in front of a high-school nerd who had a crush on me or something!"

"I'm bad at apologies, I told you."

"No... you were nervous... a lot."

"Well I'm nervous around girls." I said impulsively....then quickly regretted it. This was private.

She smiled, then cocked her head, "You don't say. And do you have any idea why that might be?"

"...You're stupid."

"And you're a dyke."

"You're the dyke."

"..." She frowned. "...Yeah? That supposed to be new information."

"And I'm not the one who can't seem to leave the other alone alright. So if there's somebody who has a crush on somebody here, it's you." I said, my face growing red as I focused my angry gaze on the TV.

"Maybe." She shrugged. "...I do find you cute."

Despite everything, that made me blush. This wasn't necessarily good news, but... it was nice to hear it. After all the shit I'd been through, it was nice to know that I still had my touch. It felt good.

But I shouldn't lose focus. "Well..." I turned to her. "That's to bad. Cause I'm straight as an arrow."

She exhaled, as if she'd had enough, then rose to her feet. "I totally believe you."

I shivered in fear as I realized she was walking towards me. "Fuck are you doing?"

"Just want to try something."

"Stay whee--"

Not letting me complete my sentence, and taking an audacious liberty, she grabbed the back of my neck and pulled my head forward toward her, planting her lips firmly on mine. She kissed me for what had to be five seconds, then let me go, staring into my eyes, with a confidant smile on her face. "How'd that feel?"

It took me a moment to gather my breath and compose myself. "Felt like nothing." If my face was showing no signs of lying, it was because I was actually telling the truth. It didn't feel that good. Frankly, I was more excited by her hand on the back of my neck more than the kiss itself.

"Oh..." She was taken aback; she believed me.

For a moment, judging by the disappointment in her eyes, I thought she was about to stand up, apologies and go back to her seat; no such luck.

"What about this?" with that she pulled on my neck and with her other hand pulled on my arm, and swiftly but aggressively guided me to the floor so that I lay flat on my back, with her on top of me. I tried to move my hands, but she pinned both my wrists to the floor above my head with one hand, and with the other forced me to look up at her.

She was strong, but I suppose that even she couldn't pin both my hands up using just one of hers; I could get free if I tried enough, but she probably would pin me again more securely, and frankly, I wasn't sure I even wanted to get free. "Huh..." She said, bringing her face close to mine. "What about this?" Abruptly, she let go of my face and gave me a playful--but firm--smack on the check, which immediately sent a bolting tingle down my spine. Just like that I was speechless, with my stomach empty and my skin prickling.

My failure to respond, and probably the reddening that suddenly painted my cheeks, made her giggle above me. "A moan would suffice."

A moan automatically shot through my lips, causing her to smile. "Good girl."

"Kris..." I said, genuine fear in my shaky voice. I was at lost and she was the only one I could talk to. "I don't know what's happening to me?"

After a moment of watching my fear and desperation, she laughed "Jeez." She shook her head as she squeezed my cheeks. "Nothing is happening to you, silly. Acting like you've got a terminal disease. You're great. Perfect. But you're as far away from straight as they come."

Weeks Later

I was in bed scrolling on my phone in my pajamas. Kris was out with her friends.

Past days had been... beautifully weird for me. Talking about that new urge of mine hadn't gotten easier one bit. I couldn't even describe it to myself so that I could describe it to Kris. But luckily, Kris didn't need my explanation. She knew me better than I knew myself. She didn't take that much time to figure out what I hadn't.

My eyes lit up as a notification appeared on my screen. It was a message from Kris:

I'll be home in about twenty minutes. If you don't want my shoe print on your face again, you better make yourself presentable.

The message filled me with excitement that I never thought a message could. She wasn't exaggerating nor kidding about her shoe print on my face. It was days before now, and I had forgotten to take down the garbage--on purpose of course. She tried to pin me to the floor, and I resisted, struggled and squirmed, cause that was half the fun, to fight her as she tried to do all kinds of mean things to me. Of course she eventually took a hold of me. With her foot in a flip-flops, she pressed on my face, pining my head to the ground. My groans gradually turned to moans from the mere humiliating act. When she took her foot off, she laughed, saying I had the pattern of her flip-flop's sole printed on my cheek and temple. She even took a picture.

As ecstatic as that experience was, I still remember that it hurt like hell. I was always in the mood to be debased under her, but rarely in the mood for pain. So I leaped to my feet like a good girl and started making myself presentable.

I found out what she meant by presentable a week ago. She'd come from the gym, and I was laying on the couch with Netflix on, being the usual couch potato I liked to be, my limps sprawled out and chips and dips in my lap. When she walked into the living room and her eyes landed on me, she scoffed and shook her head.

"What?" I asked, with cheeks still stuffed.

"Nothing." She spat. "But it would be nice to come home and get to see you in decent clothes for once."

I looked down at my striped blue pajamas; I liked those pajamas and thought they looked cute. "Decent?"

"Like the clothes I've got for you." She nodded towards the bedroom.

"Oh..." I hid my concern. Decent! Those clothes were sexy, revealing, and frankly, not appropriate for indoors, or at least not for a casual day like this; who'd wear a sexy red lingerie and laze in front of the TV. And besides, she never dressed up like that for me, but I wasn't about to point that out for her--I liked her in her causal clothes anyway.

Now, I put on similar clothes to what I wore that night--and most nights. Red baby doll dress. Knee-high black nylons--having had waxed my legs, per Kris's very persistent request. G-string. And last but not least, pink five-inch heels.

Was I comfortable walking in five-inch heels? Not remotely. Did they hurt? Absolutely. Did I even know how to walk in five-inch heels? No; I stumbled and tripped all the time and felt utterly silly and stupid wearing them inside the house. And that was exactly why Kris forced me to wear them. In her words, "I just like to watch you trip around like a clumsy blonde idiot, what's wrong with that?"

She used the word blonde a lot. I was pretty sure by now she had a blonde-fetish. Guess she watched a bit too much Highschool movies growing up. She would usually snatch me up by the collar--sometimes by the hair--and just start walking, dragging me behind her like a lamp to the slaughter, and I would limp, trip, fall and get up and try to keep up as best as I could. She'd throw me in bed, climb on top of me. She loved to make me look stupid and loved to treat me like a slut, and for some reason my blonde hair was a big bonus for her.