Play Practice Pt. 05

Alyssa:

I've always had a bad habit of trying to psychoanalyze everybody to death. Myself and others. Sometimes when I look back on my life, the decisions I've made feel like they were made by a stranger. Case in point: that time in high school and college that I became a lesbian bimbo seemingly on a whim. Given time and distance, I still don't know why. Maybe it was that, having been invisible to men my whole life, I was addicted to the feeling of being objectified. My attractiveness was affirmed, and I was desired for the first time in my life--first with Erin, and later Paula and many others. And all the things I'd been teased about my whole life (take my big ass, for example, which I'd spent years crash dieting and exercising trying to eradicate) suddenly became coveted.

But I think I may have taken it too far. My first semester in college, I spent all my time getting fucked by various campus dykes: athletes, women in the LGBTQ spaces, the ladies of the one college gay bar. Paula saw to it that I fucked them all, creating an extensive catalog of amateur porn along the way. I almost flunked out, and Paula had to wind-down the fun a little bit, building in regular study breaks and letting me go to class more often. But as the massive wave of sexual mania began to recede, the guilt of what I'd done to Erin reemerged. She had been my friend for years and my first domme. I wanted to make things right, and show her that I'd become the bimbo she'd always dreamed I could be. So I asked her to visit and she accepted. It was the last time I saw her for many years, but she gave me plenty to remember.

I was blindfolded and gagged in Erin's bedroom. Her noise cancelling headphones were over my ears, playing a recording she had made to help me "get into character."

"As you feel yourself getting wetter, start to consider all of the many ways you can be the best slut you can be. Remember: you are the life of the party. The occasion and the favor..." Paula's voice recited.

The remote control egg vibrator in my pussy was whirring, Paula sliding the intensity up and down to keep me in a constant state of arousal. I felt the gag being unfastened, then the headphones being pulled from my ears. I could now hear Paula's real live voice, in the room, asking:

"Who do you play with bimbo?"

"Only Goddess Paula and hot girl followers," I said, as I had many times before.

"What is your purpose?"

"To serve Goddess Paula and her followers."

"Anything else?"

"To improve the scenery."

I heard Paula's phone ding with a notification. My pussy was gushing at that point. It was Pavlovian. Every time someone followed the account, I was in for a good time.

"Accepted. Ready?"

"Ready."

Paula pulled my bikini bottom to the side and removed the egg.

"We've got a new guest tonight, bimbo," Paula said.

"Her mouth was on my cunt thirty minutes ago," Erin's voice shot back.

"Surely you're mistaken. Alyssa may have done that. But this is Lezzie Lyssie Lips, and as you know, she only plays with followers."

A palm cupped my left breast. It teased the nipple and I felt it harden in her fingers.

"So, what's so special about your bimbo?" Erin said.

"She's the ultimate lesbian party slut."

Paula turned the power of the remote control vibrator all the way up and I shrieked.

"Her ass looks bigger."

"So nice of you to notice. We've been working on that. Plenty of squats and eating whatever she wants," Paula said.

"Let's see how it handles."

My arms were behind my back, and I felt a hand grip my left wrist and push me in the direction of Paula's bed. When I could feel the mattress against my bare knees, the hand released my wrist. There was a thwack and I felt a hard sting on my ass cheek.

"Look at that fucking wobble. Lezzie Lyssie Lips, you are a masterpiece. Up, girl. On all fours," Erin instructed.

I climbed up on the bed and presented my ass to the room. Erin ran her hand (it was smaller, less muscled than Paula's) along the round globes of my ass, rubbing the warm flesh where she had just spanked me. She seized the thong of my bikini in her fist and pulled, temporarily wedgie-ing me.

"Let's see you shake it," Erin said.

I launched into a vigorous, enthusiastic twerk.

"Do you want to try a few with the paddle?" Paula asked.

"My hand is just fine."

She spanked each ass cheek about fifteen times until my ass felt like it was on fire. Erin ran her thumb across my pussy, stopping at my clit.

"Let's get everything off of her," Erin said.

She removed my top and pulled my bikini bottom roughly down my thighs. I lifted each knee so Erin could clear them, and then I was nude. Then there was light: the blindfold was removed and I could see the room again. Erin was standing across the bed from me, totally naked. I always forgot how cute she was--short and skinny with spiky short hair dyed the color of red Kool-Aid. She looked at me sternly.

"My bag is downstairs. I need to get my strap. You wait right here, bimbo."

She opened the door to head downstairs, and I could hear the commotion across the hall.

"You hear that, slut?" Paula said, walking to the door and opening it further. A crowd was standing around the bed, watching as Vanessa and Steph railed Maggie. Maggie was sucking Steph's strap-on while Vanessa pumped relentlessly from behind.

"Who has the phone?" Steph called.

A girl in the room held up her hand like she was being on called on in class.

"Make sure you get a good view of those backshots."

The girl with the phone moved behind Vanessa and framed the camera so she could better see the strap-on as it slid in and out of Maggie's cunt.

Erin returned with an enormous cock hanging from her waist. She'd upgraded since we'd the last time we'd played, now packing a girthy red prick with the color and sheen of a lollipop. Paula closed the door.

"We'll invite everyone later. For now, Erin gets first."

Erin disappeared behind me and I felt the long cock slide effortlessly into my sopping pussy. It was ecstasy. She filled me with each stroke, her little paws gripping my generous ass cheeks and hips.

"You know your way around a girlcock, bimbo. Goddess Paula's done well."

"You're too kind, Erin," Paula said, standing in the corner with her phone and ringlight trained on the action.

"Lezzie Lyssie Lips loves getting fucked by the gorgeous, gorgeous girls," I managed to grunt out.

There was a script to this. An exchange. They would say how sexy I am. How much they desired me and wanted to own me. How happy they were to see me degraded by them. In turn I would affirm them. "You fuck me so good, I'm yours, I'm your mindless lezbo bimbo." This was the equation.

Erin spanked my ass harder than I'd ever been spanked in my short but varied life.

"Don't do that shit with me. Don't do that catchphrase shit. I made you. I'm not some random slut from the volleyball team," Erin snarled.

She grabbed my ankle and rolled me on my back with the momentum in a single motion, like a Judo throw. Suddenly she was on top of me, holding my legs out so that my feet were dangling in the air. She slipped the head of the red cock into my cunt and I gasped. We were eye to eye. Her gaze was ferocious, and I could almost feel it burning through me.

"That's right slut. Now you remember who you're talking to. You remember 'practicing kissing for the play?' You were deep in denial back then. But now you see. I was right all along."

She mashed her lips against mine, her tongue exploring my mouth.

"See bimbo. That's a fucking kiss. Just like I taught you."

I came. It felt like waves of pleasure had hijacked my nervous system, and when it was done I could practically feel my brain rebooting.

"That was so hot. Should we open this party up to everyone?" Paula said.

She opened the door and disappeared into the room where Maggie was getting gangbanged. Erin was still staring into my eyes.

"You're going to think about this the rest of your life. You're going to look back and remember how good you had it. How good I made you feel. And you're going to chase it for the rest of your life. Remember this moment."

She said it so confidently it seemed like she might actually have seen the future. We still had not broken eye contact. In my peripheral vision I could see bodies entering the space but I didn't dare break the gaze. Vanessa entered the room with Maggie's glistening naked body draped over her shoulder. Vanessa threw Maggie onto the bed next to me. Erin climbed off and started gathering her clothing from the floor. Without warning, Paula had inserted two fingers in my pussy and Sabrina started sucking my toes. "Wait!" I wanted to blurt out. But it felt too fucking good. Erin got dressed and I watched her, hoping desperately that she would turn around and face me. But she never did. Vanessa's strap-on cock appeared in front of my mouth and I took it compliantly in my lips.

*********************************************************

After that day, I didn't see Erin for a decade. We were friends on social media, but she didn't post much. A few photos of a trip to Tulum (with her then girlfriend), a new professional headshot (working at a major literary agency), and then she'd disappear, popping up again in the odd photo with a new lover. The girls were, to a one, voluptuous, sexy and young. Each new one that cropped up, she'd be hugging them possessively around their waists, her hand resting on their big booties. She was an ass girl, alright.

And for what it's worth, she had been absolutely right. I was never able to feel the way I had felt with her ever again. The problem with lust alone is that it's adjacent to novelty. Paula became bored with me. There's no other way to put it. I lost touch with the girls in that scene within the year. Paula got married to a girl she met at the end of college and became a lawyer. Maggie got divorced and moved in with Vanessa. Vanessa went pro and Maggie was briefly a cast member on one of those reality shows for WAGs. Steph called me sometimes when she was drunk, but I never answered.

I convinced myself my time as a lesbian bimbo slave girl had been temporary insanity. A manic episode. The untold consequence of my previous deep sexual repression. I dated a man--the friend of my roommate's friend, and we got married. I sometimes mentioned the friends I'd had freshman year, or my friend Erin from home, but I never even hinted at the true nature of these relationships. We moved out to the suburbs and remained childless. Our sex life was dull, then non-existent. We both worked--he was an engineer and I had some fake job where I sent emails and nobody knew exactly what I did. I tried not to think about my past life. My experimentation. Paula had deleted the Lezzie Lyssie Lips accounts when Maggie started on TV, and the videos we sold in our online store had been removed. Still, nothing is ever gone on the internet. I'd go grocery shopping and notice a woman staring, and I'd wonder if she'd been one of the tens of thousands of people who'd seen me in my lesbian bimbo days. Most of the time a light bulb would go off and I could place her: PTA, the gym, work conference. But other times I'd never know. Recognition would flicker across a woman's face and I'd just have to wonder if she'd seen me getting fucked by a group of dykes with my fat ass in the air. Speaking of, I put on a few pounds, too. I was still fit, going to the gym four days a week, but I'd accumulated some chub in my thirties. I still looked good though. Good enough for Steph to still send me DMs and react to all my stories. I would've blocked her, but honestly it felt good to be regarded as sexy and desirable for a change.

Then, at the grocery store one evening, I passed a very chic woman who was reaching for a jar of red sauce on a high shelf. She had short, stylish auburn hair and an expensive looking suit that seemed out of place in our suburban grocery store.

"Let me get that for you," I said, reaching.

The woman turned around. It was Erin.

"Wow."

"Wow."

She wasn't some skinny little goth girl anymore. Even in her suit you could tell she was sinewy and leanly muscled. She smiled a sly half-smile.

"Alyssa. You look great," she said, sizing me up.

"You too. I love your hair. And that suit."

"You live in this area?"

"Yes. For a few years now. With my husband."

Her eyes got a little bigger.

"Ah. Well. I just moved here. I sort of outgrew the city. Wanted more space and a bit of privacy. I talk to all of my clients by phone and email already. Remote work, y'know?"

I nodded, gamely.

"We should catch up. Over a drink."

I heard myself speak the words aloud before my brain processed what I had done. What was I doing? What in my psychology was compelling me to blow my life up in one fluid motion.

"Sure. Maybe you should come over. You can see my new house. I haven't had any visitors. Yet."

We were, once again, locked in intense eye contact. She produced a pen from her purse and took my hand.

"Here's my new number. Text me and we'll make a date."

She wrote her number on the palm.

I was more aroused than I'd been in years. The electricity from her touch, even just writing on my hand, had made the last ten years of my husband's clumsy overtures even more pathetic. I needed to remove myself immediately before I did something stupid.

"I'm so glad we ran into each other. I'm sorry to rush off, but I've got to get home. I'll text you soon, okay."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Am I?"

"The sauce?"

"Oh, right."

I stretched to make the top shelf and reached for a jar.

"The Pomodoro sauce, actually," Erin said. She stood behind me, brushing against my ass as she pointed at the correct jar.

"Here," I said, handing her the jar.

"Thanks, Lyssie. Text me, okay?"

I walked to the next aisle and abandoned my cart. I needed to go home immediately.

I drove somewhat recklessly to my house, definitely running at least one red light on the way. When I arrived at home, my husband was on the couch.

"I'm sorry I couldn't finish shopping. I don't feel so good."

"You definitely look flushed. Don't worry love, I'll take care of it tomorrow."

"I need to go to the bathroom. I think I'm going to be sick."

I ran upstairs and locked the door to the master bathroom. I stood before the His and Hers sinks, looking at myself in the mirror. What was I thinking? The answer: I wasn't thinking. I was moved by a different force. One that operated far beyond the realm of common sense. What was I thinking? Was I really going to do this? Yes. I unbuttoned my pants and worked myself to furious orgasm. When I was done, I entered the digits of Erin's new number into my phone and saved her contact information. Then I washed her phone number and my own cum off my hands. For a moment, I thought the thought of it would satisfy me. Maybe I would be fine with fantasy alone. I unlocked the phone and went to delete her contact. But something happened. I didn't delete it. Instead I texted her.

"Hey, there. It was so good running into you. Let's get together soon."

I held my breath.