Guilt & Redemption Ch. 01

There is a darkness in us all. St Paul captures it in Romans 7 when he writes about willing the right thing and yet doing the wrong. With me it is complicated by a medical condition which means that I have trouble multi-tasking. I am good at focus but poor at doing more than one thing. It is further complicated by my desire to be the best I can. I have always tried to be a good girl.

So, where my sister went a bit wild when she hit the age of consent, I remained not only a virgin but virginal. It was helped by the fact that where my sister was drop-dead gorgeous, at 4 foot ten, with no bosom, I was not exactly besieged by suitors. My mother approved. A devout Christian, she liked the fact that I practised my faith, and kept myself pure. Eventually my sister ended her wild phase and found a nice man and married him. That was a happy day for us all. As mother of the bride, Ma was in her element, and she made no comments about the white wedding dress my sister wore.

It was, she told me, my turn next.

There were a few problems with that prediction: the first was my size and health; the second was my sexual feelings. The medics said my size and shape were due to a "hormonal imbalance," adding for good measure, that it was likely that I would find it difficult to conceive. As, unlike my sister, I had no feelings of attraction towards men, that appeared to be a far distant concern. Much more worrying was that not only was I the youngest person in College in my year, but that at sixteen I could have passed for twelve. The former would, in any event, have restricted my social life; the latter rendered it non-existent. I did not mind too much. I poured myself into my work and after getting a starred First, went on to do my MA, and thence to my doctorate.

The MA changed my life.

My main tutor was a charismatic older woman, whom I will call Ruth. She had been nominated for writing awards and was famous in the world of novelists. She liked my writing. She also seemed to like me. She invited me to a reading of her work in London, then to dinner afterwards. She kissed me when we got back to her house. I had never felt like that before. It was overwhelming. We made love until morning. I stayed the weekend. Indeed, to cut a long story short, I stayed for nearly five years.

For a long time I accepted Ruth's version, which was that I had been giving off signals; but in retrospect that was no more than the calf-love one gives to an admired professor. Mind, I cannot say I resisted. So, at twenty-four I lost my virginity. It also turned out that I had acquired two lovers, as Ruth had forgotten to mention Diane. Di was a long-term lover, and happy to share Ruth with me; it was taken for granted that I would be equally happy, so I was. At the beginning I was confused and a little jealous, but got over it. The same was not true of my mother's reaction.

When I graduated, she and Dad turned up. She was proud that I had obtained a Distinction and a prize for the best MA mark. Ruth was busy, but came up and kissed me, telling my Ma she had a very clever daughter. Ma asked me later if anything was going on between me and Ruth, as she seemed very familiar with me. I should have said then; I willed the good, but did the bad. I lied.

That created a habit. I knew Ma would disagree with what I was doing. It seemed easier not to tell her. I was so busy with my PhD and with Ruth. I talked to my vicar, but he said I was being sinful and should stop. I did not want to stop. I was admired and wanted by Ruth. That made me feel good. How could I just stop?

Back home for Easter, we went to Church. Ma noticed I did not take Communion. She asked me why later. I blurted it out. She was shocked:

"Pixie, you know you are in a state of mortal sin. God made you for a man to love, and you have gone for unnatural love. You must stop."

We talked. Well, in fact, she lectured me for the next hour and more. Ma made it clear that as well as imperilling my immortal soul, my choice would impact in a more secular way.

"I cannot allow any of your grandfather's money to go to you if you persist in sin."

I was hurt. I had always been her good girl. Now I was being cast out. Convinced that I was going "through a phase," Ma did not press me too hard. I had always been a late developer in social matters, and she was sure that I would "grow out if it." I wasn't, and my dad simply said that as long as I was "happy," So was he. But he would not intercede with Ma. They lived largely separate lives for large parts of the year. He was based in Hamburg, she in East Anglia. It was not his style to intervene in the lives of others.

Ruth was reassuring. She loved me, she reminded me, and not much younger than my mother, she had adopted an increasingly maternal role in our relationship, which made me feel comfortable. She was so helpful in terms of my PhD and career advice. She was pleased when I began to get invitations to conferences, and she used her not inconsiderable influence to help me get some part-time teaching. I became more dependent on her the remoter my mother became. I dared not tell Ma about the threesome aspect of our relationship, and she was increasingly condemnatory of my "sin." It was hard.

Dad invited me to Hamburg in the New Year, which was a treat. He lived in a big house near the centre of the city. He occupied the upper two floors, letting out the ground floor as flats. One of the tenants, Klara, was a pretty blonde about my age. It only occurred to me as we ate dinner together that she was my father's lover. Nothing was said, but I realised from the way they looked at each other that this was more than a friendship.

Dad talked to me afterwards about it, explaining that he and Ma lived separate lives, and that he needed things she could not give him. He loved her, and us, and he had no desire to break up the marriage. Ma, knowing she could not give him what he needed, had, he said, turned a blind eye to his affairs for years.

It was only later that I realised that I was like my mother. I knew Ruth had other lovers, not just Di, but casual ones, but I turned a blind eye. What did it matter, I reasoned? I loved her, she loved me, and if she needed other lovers then why object?

Ruth liked to emphasise my youthful physique and, at the same time, reinforce her sexual dominance. Inexperienced as I was, I was a natural pleaser, and she she liked my doing as I was told in the bedroom; so I liked it too. I became adept at bringing her to orgasm, and would sometimes oblige Di as well. In return, I would be allowed to orgasm when Ruth saw fit.

I can see now that as my career began to take off, as I got interviews for jobs which Ruth had no say over, in universities where she had no influence, she began to get worried. She'd encouraged me not to go for jobs which were "beneath me," and had arranged for me to work in Events with her publisher. This allowed me to organise her book tours, which gave us a delightful excuse to be together when she travelled. But as this period was clearly coming to an end, I noticed an increase in her controlling tendencies.

The age gap between us was considerable. I had been nearly twenty five and Ruth thirty something plus onto that. The situation with my mother pushed the maternal aspect of our relationship to the fore. One Saturday she suggested an extension of our domestic games.

"You are so cute Pix. How would you feel about wearing one of your Disney tee shirts outside, perhaps with one of those nice short skirts? I could do your hair in pigtails." She giggled. "Then perhaps people would have an excuse for seeing us as step-mother and step-daughter?"

I giggled back. One of my permanent gripes was that I was always being mistaken for a late teen which meant permanently carrying ID. This seemed a fun way of exploiting it.

I had to admit that, divested of make-up and in my tee shirt and denim skirt, I did indeed look younger, and I got a distinct thrill from being seen in public with Ruth dressed like that. We went shopping for more clothes of that sort, and soon accumulated a collection. When in character I would call her "Ma," and she would call me "Sweetpea." Across the next few months we did the trip to the Mall more often, and each time she would assert my need for her.

Then came the Saturday we met Beth and Randa.

We sat outside at one of the coffee shops. Usually I would have had a double espresso, but when we were playing, I had to have a milkshake; my adult identity was put away. I was sucking my straw when a woman at the next table turned to Ruth:

"She's a pretty little thing, how old?"

The woman was in her early forties, brunette, and quite attractive. With her was a girl who was obviously her daughter. Ruth smiled:

"Oh I could hardly say, but put it this way, when I date, I need a sitter. Yours?"

"Miranda is eighteen, but looks older I know. She takes after her Mum, well-developed. I'm Beth, by the way."

"And I'm Ruth. I am afraid if anything, Pixie looks younger than her years."

They both giggled, as Miranda did. I blushed. This was ridiculous. I was getting on for twenty-eight, not that much younger than Beth, and a lot older than the smirking Miranda. I wanted to say as much, but realised I was trapped. Just how was I going to explain our "game," and would anyone believe it anyway?

Beth and Ruth were clearly flirting, and the former and Miranda came to join us. Ruth asked if they fancied lunch, on her, and Beth agreed, giving her hand a squeeze. Miranda looked at me as though to say "yuck!"

As her Mum and Ruth flirted, she asked me where I went to school. I told her, referring of course, to the Girls' Boarding school I had left more than a decade before.

"Oh, one of those posh schools," she giggled, "hotbeds of lezzy action. Bet you like what Mum and your Mum are doing?"

They were kissing.

I was in a state of shock. My lover was not just flirting with another woman in front of me, she was kissing her and, unless my ears were deceiving me, inviting her back to our house.

"Yuckky lezzy stuff. Are you a lezzer? Lots of you public school girls are."

I blushed, not really knowing what to say. I could hardly tell her that Ruth was my lover and that I had just been short-listed for a lectureship at a prestigious London University. I muttered that I was not into sex, which, given what was happening seemed likely to be the case.

We had come to the Mall by train, but Miranda and Beth had come by car, and the latter offered us a lift back. She and Ruth sat in the front, Randa and I sat in the back. It was with some frustration that I saw Ruth squeeze Beth's thigh. Randa asked me about my favourite music and TV, but as I knew nothing that was age-appropriate, I said "Mum" did not let me have a TV.

As I watched Ruth and Beth I began to wonder what was going on. When we got to our house, I discovered what her plan was. Randa and I were sent into the lounge to play computer games, while Ruth and Beth went upstairs. I felt bewildered. I must have looked it, because Randa gave me a hug and told me not to worry.

"It is okay little Pixie, it is just what some Mums do."

That was sweet of her, and she proceeded to tell me all about her life at school the boys she was "dating," the Bands she liked, and her plans for the summer. I had to think fast to make up a back story about my "mother" and me, but as she was mainly concerned with her own stuff, I do not think she noticed my hesitations.

She had an I-Pad with her, and showed me some of her favourite sites, and even set up an Instagram account for me, which was so sweet of her.

"It's okay to be shy, Pix, I can understand why. You are quite little for your age, but you are cute, I am sure some boys will like you when you get older."

I giggled inwardly, thinking "if only you knew," but of course, said nothing. My tummy was feeling sick. It was one thing for Ruth to fuck Di, and I suspected she had others she fucked, about whom I wanted to know nothing, but this, that was on another scale. I was grateful for Randa's handholding and care; I felt small and lost.

Randa and I were well into populating my Instagram account when Ruth and Beth descended.

"Hope you girls behaved?" Beth sniggered, looking at Ruth. "That would be more than we did."

Ruth laughed and kissed her.

"I hope little Pixie was no bother, Miranda?"

'No, she was very good, she's sweet."

"Good, I am glad you think so. Would you like to babysit her when your Mum and I go out on a date on Wednesday night?"

"Of course, be happy to, Mum knows my fee."

And with that, it was settled.

Ruth and Beth kissed. Randa gave me a hug.

"See you Wednesday, Pix."

When they had gone I sat there.

"God she was a good fuck, Pix. Love those melons after your pimples. Did you fancy Miranda darling? She's a cute one, wouldn't mind her myself, you know I like them young. Speaking of which, upstairs, now, I'm still horny."

I went.

I felt wretched, but went.

In the bedroom Ruth stripped off her dress; she was not wearing knickers. I could see them discarded where she had thrown them when she was with Beth. She lay back and opened her legs for me to lick her hairy pussy. Her lips were red, her hair sticky. As I licked her, I could think only of the fact that she had already cum for Beth.

She gripped my pigtails and pulled me right in, forcing my face against her wet cunt, humping herself on me.

"She was such a good fuck Pixie. Make me cum."

It felt different. I licked her hard, just the way I knew she liked. Her moaning reached a crescendo, and she came, wetting my chin and cheeks. I longed to be taken into her arms and told she loved me, but instead she said she needed to get ready for the event we were going to that evening.

I went to the bathroom, ostensibly to clean myself up, but in fact to cry.

The party went well that evening, and as Di was there, she and Ruth spent the night together. On the Sunday we went out to lunch, and when Di went back home, Ruth and I shared the bed again. Beth was not mentioned. She became someone in the back of my mind, a brooding presence, or at least one over whom I brooded.

When I got home on Wednesday evening the first thing Ruth said was to get into my 'young Pixie' outfit. I did as I was told. As I took my business suit off, and my nice knickers and stockings and heels, it felt like I was stripping away my adult identity. Pulling up my cute knickers with hearts on them, putting on my Disney Princess tee shirt and short skirt and flats, seemed to be both taking on a new identity, but to be some sort of statement; the question was, what?

"So cute my darling."

Ruth hugged me and told me I was a good girl. I kissed her. The doorbell went.

I answered it, and there were Beth and Randa. The former was looking very glamorous. I got a hug and took them through. Ruth kissed her.

"Right, girls. Pix, Randa is in charge while we are out, and I want you to be a good girl for her."

And with that, and a hug, they were off.

Randa smiled.

"Pix it is okay, really, don't worry. Adults do their thing and we can do ours. Now do you have any homework to do? Your Mum didn't mention any."

I told her it was all done and suggested watching a film. She was happy with the idea and, looking at the list on my shelf, suggested a Tinkerbell movie. This was a throwback to my days at Oxford, where I had a friend who was "little," and with whom I would watch such films. It was sweet of Randa to indulge me; but I felt so in need of comfort that I regressed to a state where I could forget the reality. My lover was out with another.

I found myself cuddling up to Randa. She felt warm and safe. I liked her smell. I cuddled into her. She embraced me. Her breasts felt a warm and safe space. I found myself touching them. She did not object or resist. She stroked my hair, which felt nice; I kneaded her breasts.

"That feels so nice Pix. Would you like more?"

I liked her smile. I felt small and vulnerable. My lover was out on the town with another. I had been stripped of my adult identity as well as my clothes; but my sexual desires were still there, not only unsatisfied, but deliberately denied.

"Yes, Randa, please."

She pulled me into her, closer. She undid her shirt. I pawed at her breast, pulling the bra cup down. I sucked. The comfort. I sucked again. Her nipple stiffened, and I flicked it with my tongue as I sucked.

"Is Pix my little one?"

As I was suckling like one, I thought the answer obvious and nodded, mumbling my assent. I was regressing fast, but my sexual desire was growing. It felt odd, conflicted, taboo, and so erotic. I was in my late twenties, but Ranada thought I was younger than her. She was, as far as I was concerned, loving me, giving me the affection of which I suddenly realised I had been starved.

Suddenly, I felt lost. Perhaps Ma had been right?