My Pretend Sex Slave 06

"Brett?"

"Yeah," I said.

"I want to... I want to whip Lisa again, not now, not tomorrow, but I want it," she said.

"I know," I said. I knew before she asked, even before Lisa brought it up.

She turned her face up to me again, her eyes found mine.

"I know you hate it," she said.

I didn't bother arguing.

"What if we do it in Lisa's room, without you? You don't have to watch," Jett said. "And when we're finished, we find you. It makes me so fucking horny. You can fuck me."

"I can fuck you already," I said. I instantly regretted the words. It wasn't about that.

Jett looked stunned, disappointed.

"Brett--"

"I'm sorry," I said. "That's not what I meant. It's not about that--"

"No," Jett started, "I uh..."

She took a deep breath. Jett looked so sad, on the verge of tears.

"You can fuck Lisa," Jett said. "If that's what you want."

I looked in Jett's eyes. She needed this so bad that she would give up anything, even her jealousy. It broke my heart.

"I only want you," I said. "I just don't understand."

"I know," she said. "But can we do it anyway? We need it, Lisa and I, both of us. No matter how it feels, you're helping. That's what I love about you."

Jett kissed me, tender, hazel eyes full and wet.

"Yeah," I said. I took a deep breath. "We can do it."

Jett's face lit up. She didn't smile, but I saw it in her eyes. Joy. No matter what bad thing was going to happen, that image alone was worth it.

--

We made more arrangements. Jett was ecstatic. Lisa was... I don't know what, difficult to read. It made a kind of sense. Even if she needed someone to whip and abuse her, there was still room for mixed emotions.

I tried not to dwell on it. I failed.

--

I laid in bed, a cheap box fan whirring in my ear. There were two closed doors between us, between me and my girls. There was no way to hear the impact of crop on ass. I heard it anyway.

I was imagining it, but it didn't matter. I gripped the sheets and didn't move. I could only wait.

It was consensual. Lisa enjoyed this. They both did. I needed to let this go...

I flinched. That muffled scream was real. I told myself not to move, not to intervene. Then I told myself again.

Then again.

--

Some time later Jett knocked on my door, opening without waiting for a response. Her auburn hair was sweaty. She was naked, wearing only a sheepish grin.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I lied.

"Lisa wants to join," Jett said.

--

I tried so hard not to look at Lisa, at her red back and damaged ass. I couldn't stop myself. They were both naked, putting on a show for me. Jett knew I hated seeing Lisa beat up. She seemed determined to make it up to me.

The two of them were already sweaty and naked when they began. Jett didn't bother asking my permission. My hard cock was all the consent she needed.

I sat against the headboard, my legs spread. The two of them were up on their knees, toward the middle of the bed. Wild hair and eyes, fingers exploring breasts or stroking shoulders.

Jett would lean in for a kiss, and Lisa would meet her. The two girls would get lost in each other's fingers and tongues, only pulling away to catch their breath, eyes making love in those moments of separation. It was almost like jousting.

I watched Lisa's tortured back arch in pleasure as they kissed. Jett was careful to avoid touching Lisa with her hands, afraid of causing accidental pain.

I could see the exact moment when Jett remembered I was there, when she would turned to me and smile, run her fingers down my thigh or cock.

Then the girls were kissing again.

--

I met the study group in the library.

Even after we finished the Applied Stats midterm, the study group kept going. It finally occurred to me that maybe it was no longer just a study group. Maybe we were friends, laughs and drinks and shared stress.

Two of the guys in the group were gay, and obviously destined to end up with each other, but they were also somehow clueless.

I saw it and Mia saw it too. We would watch their small moments between snacks or drinks or assignments. A fleeting glance or a longing stare, fingers that lingered too long when passing a pen.

It reached a kind of critical mass, so that each time they narrowly avoided falling for each other, Mia and I knew to stop and trade a smile or a nod in acknowledgment.

But not tonight.

"You alright?" Mia asked.

"Got a C+ on the midterm," I said. I wasn't fucked, but there was almost no chance of an 'A' now. I'd be coasting to a 'B.'

"What happened?"

I turned to her. I don't know what she saw in my face, but it wasn't good.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that you had it down. More than I did for sure."

I knew what happened. Jett and Lisa and late nights and sex and regret and anxiety crowding out everything else. Lisa in pain. Jett enjoying it.

I couldn't begin to explain it, and even if I found the words, Mia would look at me like I was lunatic. Even to me it was crazy.

--

I met Jet for coffee near the library. She was back to cold brewed sucked out of a straw. She wasn't even covered in paint, something was wrong.

"What going on?" I asked.

"What?"

"You aren't painting?" I asked her.

She sighed. "Not today. My dad called..." she said.

Jett didn't mention him much, but there was some kind of tension in the relationship. Something she had yet to open up about.

"His friend, or a friend of a friend saw my paintings," she said. She should have been happy. She wasn't.

"Not great?" I asked.

"No," she said. I waited for her to elaborate. She didn't, only shifted her eyes away.

We sat in awkward silence.

"I want to use Lisa," Jett said finally. It felt like she wanted to borrow my tools. "Can we do it this weekend?"

"Jett--"

"We can go to my apartment," Jett said.

"I don't see how that will help," I said.

"I mean just Lisa and I, that way you don't have to hear it. We can find you after, or I can come alone. I know you don't like to see her like that. After."

I closed my eyes. I was a jumble of thoughts. None of them good. I didn't know what to say.

"Brett?" Jett asked. She leaned forward, manicured hand on my thigh.

"Why the pain?" I whispered. "Why not just... everything else?"

Jett's eyes searched mine.

"I love you," she said, it was more of a suggestion than a statement, maybe a peace offering.

"I need to understand," I told her.

Jett sighed, then nodded. She took a moment, trying to collect her thoughts.

"You like my paintings don't you?"

"I love them," I said. "You know that."

"Can't you see how this is better? Wouldn't you rather visit the Sistine Chapel instead of looking at it in a picture?"

I knew what she was trying to say, that the ecstasy and the agony across Lisa's face and body were like her art made flesh. I wasn't buying it.

I wasn't an expert on art, but I was an expert on Jett.

"No," I said, supremely confident. Overconfident. "The purpose of art, your art is to let people live vicariously, to process pleasure and pain and transformation with their eyes and their brain, from a safe distance, not with their bodies. Art requires abstraction. Art is abstraction."

Jett froze. She didn't blink. Something in those words hit her. She stared at me, then past me, eyes wet while she explored the world inside her head.

"What you're doing with Lisa is just sex," I said. "People do that every day. The Sistine Chapel exists because Michaelangelo got his ass up on a scaffold and painted it."

It felt cruel, but I needed to make a point.

"I can't..." she started. "You think my art can do that?"

Her voice was so quiet.

"It's why people come to your shows. It's why they love you," I said.

I watched her suck in a breath, then let it out. Her body had been wound tight, ready to fight me for permission, to justify and cajole. She let it go.

"How about you?" she asked.

"It's why I love you too," I said. Maybe it wasn't exactly true, but it was wrapped in truth, helping Jett find herself again, find the things about her I loved.

Then she was crying in the coffee shop. I pulled her up out of her chair and hugged her. She buried her face against my shoulder. I held her while she sobbed.

"Take a break from Lisa," I said. "Create art."