Crumbling Memories Ch. 04

The mere thought of her, my beloved Vicky, taking such pleasure in my humiliation, in my submission, is enough to make my arousal surge, my climax looming tantalizingly close. I am her slut, her whore, her obedient little toy, and I wouldn't have it any other way...

The world fades away as Vicky and I lay next to each other, breaths coming in sync as we both bask in the afterglow. The heat and intensity of our session melt away, replaced with a tenderness that is intimate and nurturing. Vicky gently rolls me over, her fingers softly skimming my reddened skin, her touch reverent.

"Such a beautiful shade on you, darling," she murmurs, leaning down to plant soft kisses on my sensitive flesh, each one soothing the burning sting. Her breath caresses the spots where her crop once landed, each exhalation a soothing balm, further diminishing any residual pain.

Her fingers dance over my body, tracing every curve and indent, pausing at particularly sensitive spots to knead and soothe. I purr with contentment, letting out soft sighs and moans as Vicky takes her time caring for every inch of my well-used form. Her touch is the epitome of adoration, a stark contrast to the earlier dominance and control.

"You took everything so beautifully for me," Vicky whispers into my ear, her breath tickling and warming me. "My brave, beautiful Lisa."

A tray of snacks appears beside us, fruits and cheese and cool water to replenish our spent energy. Vicky feeds me slowly, each bite an extension of her care and love. Our fingers often touch, a brief meeting of skin that sends sparks of connection through us. With every bite and touch, I feel cherished and worshipped.

Bilbo, ever the opportunist, hops up onto the bed, nuzzling into the crook of my arm, purring contentedly. The three of us form a little island of peace and love amidst the chaos of life.

In the tender haze of our post-session bliss, Vicky's fingers lazily trail down my arm, her touch gentle yet still sending shivers through me. "How about a shower?" she proposes, a playful glint in her eyes, and the idea of warm water cascading over our bodies, washing away the sweat and traces of our earlier play, sounds heavenly. "I think we could both use a bit of warm water and soap, don't you?"

I nod, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth, "I'd love that. But only if you promise to wash my back."

She chuckles softly, her laugh like a soothing melody. "Of course, darling. And perhaps, if you're lucky, more than just your back."

We stand together under the streaming water, hands and sponges gently scrubbing each other, washing away all but the memories. As Vicky lathers up a sponge, she presses her body close to mine, her breath warm against my ear. "Lift your arms," she commands gently. I comply, and she slowly and meticulously scrubs my underarms, each stroke sending a new wave of tingles down my spine. Vicky's hands, ever gentle now, pay particular attention to the spots she knows will be tender tomorrow, washing them with a gentleness that brings tears to my eyes. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close, our foreheads resting together as the water envelops us.

"I love you, Vicky," I whisper, my voice trembling with emotion.

"And I adore every inch of you, my darling Lisa," she replies, her voice thick with emotion.

I turn to face her, our noses almost touching. "Your turn," I murmur, taking the sponge from her and starting on her neck, slowly working my way down. The simple act feels intimate, a bonding ritual of sorts. As I wash her, Vicky leans into each touch, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.

"That feels heavenly," she sighs, her voice a soft murmur above the sound of the water.

"I aim to please, Mistress," I tease, my voice dripping with faux innocence.

She smiles, pulling me close so our bodies are flush. "You always do, my love." She tilts her head, capturing my lips in a gentle kiss.

Breaking away, I grin, "Turn around, Vicky. I owe you a back wash."

As I gently scrub her back, she hums contentedly, "You have magic hands, Lisa."

Finishing our shower, I turn off the water, both of us standing for a moment, letting the droplets drip from our bodies.

Vicky wraps her arms around me, pulling me close, her voice soft and full of love. "Thank you, Lisa. For everything."

I press a soft kiss to her temple. "Always, Vicky. Always."

Emerging from the shower, we wrap each other in fluffy towels, returning to the sanctuary of our bed. As we lay side by side, fingers interwoven, Bilbo snuggled between us, the world seems perfect. The love we share, so evident in every touch, every word, envelops us, a cocoon of safety and adoration. The weight of the world and its challenges fade, replaced by the simple joy of being together.

It takes another hour of aftercare, many kisses and couple more orgasms before I revert to my normal self, nestled in the loving arms of Vicky. We lie on the bed together, the air around us saturated with a mixture of spent passion and love. Smiles light our faces, even as our fingers intertwine and trace gentle patterns over sweat-slicked skin. In the quiet tranquility of the aftermath, with our bodies still tingling from our shared climax, Vicky decides to break the silence.

Her voice wavers as she takes a deep breath, an uncharacteristic nervousness seeping into her tone. It sends a chill down my spine, instinctively making me clutch her tighter, as if my grip could ward off whatever bad news she's about to share.

"I have dementia, Lisa," she confesses, her voice barely more than a whisper. The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, leaving me breathless and stunned. It feels as though my heart has dropped into my stomach, my mind refusing to process the gravity of what she just revealed.

"What?" I manage to sputter out, my mind a whirl of confusion and disbelief. "How... why?" I fumble for more words, trying to make sense of the impossible. "But you're... you're just 41!"

A sad smile tugs at her lips as she gently caresses my face, her touch a balm to my rattled nerves. "And you're 25," she counters softly, her voice barely audible. "Dementia can happen even this early. It's rare, but it happens."

Looking around the room, the signs suddenly become glaringly obvious. The plethora of sticky notes adorning various items around the apartment, tasks written in Vicky's neat handwriting. The calendars marked with appointments and reminders, the meticulous organization of every little thing... All signs I'd dismissed earlier as quirky habits were indicators of her struggle.

Her voice wavers again as she continues, her fingers never leaving my face. "My love for you is the only thing that remains unchanged, Lisa," she admits, tears welling in her eyes. "I worry that I won't be able to take care of you, or Bilbo, but I promise to do my best."

Before Vicky can continue, I cut her off, a wave of determination flooding me. "I'm moving in with you," I assert, meeting her gaze with a firmness she had always instilled in me.

Her tear-filled eyes widen, she suddenly becomes smaller, weaker and I see her swallow hard, the words sinking in. For a few moments, she is silent, simply staring at me with a vulnerability I have never seen before.

"Thank you, Lisa," she finally manages to whisper, her voice breaking at the end. "Thank you," she repeats, as though the words alone can convey the weight of her gratitude.

She doesn't say anything else. She doesn't need to. Instead, she pulls me into an embrace, her arms enveloping me with a desperate intensity. Her body shakes against mine, sobs wracking her as she buries her face into the crook of my neck. I can feel her tears, warm against my bare skin, each drop a testament to her fear, her relief, her love.

Our silence fills the room, punctuated only by Vicky's quiet sobs and the steady rhythm of our heartbeats.

***

It's all my fault.

I'm useless, a worthless excuse for a girlfriend. A dumb, insignificant failure who can't even take care of the one person she loves more than life itself. I'm a fuck-up, an abject disappointment, so miserably incompetent that I can't even fulfill the simplest of responsibilities.

I'm a waste, a blundering idiot who couldn't see the signs, couldn't anticipate what was coming, couldn't prepare for the inevitable. I'm a pitiful fool, utterly worthless, a revolting embarrassment to the very concept of love and care.

I'm a self-absorbed, ignorant, pathetic piece of shit. A senseless imbecile, an absolute disgrace. A joke, a mockery of a partner, a mockery of a human being.

I'm a worthless, spineless, mindless drone, too self-obsessed, too ignorant, too stupid to see the storm coming until it was too late. A useless burden, a disgrace, a waste of space, an insult to everything Vicky stands for.

I'm a joke, a pitiful, laughable excuse for a woman who couldn't even protect the one person who matters most. I'm a pathetic, worthless, repugnant piece of trash!

I'm a mistake, a failure, an utter and complete disaster. I'm an abomination, a travesty, a contemptible, revolting, worthless piece of shit!

I'm an idiot, a moron, a brainless, useless, hopeless fool. I'm a miserable, pathetic, contemptible waste of skin, a blight, a stain, a fucking disappointment!

It's all my fucking fault!