Posed for Success

"What the hell?" Penelope went back to the computer and pulled up the network connection options window. One of the protocols which was enabled was new to her: Skimmerz. She opened the file window and searched for files by that name, and hit the jackpot. Skimmerz was some kind of executable; she avoided it but pulled up the accompanying documentation file.

"Cheap-ass bitch is scamming my bandwidth." Penelope was pretty pissed off. This kind of violation was just like Linda. She'd racked up twenty bucks in charges on Cheryl's cell phone once and when caught had claimed she'd mistaken it for her own. Cheryl had given her the benefit of the doubt, but Penelope'd never been so sure... Now she sure as hell was.

The dumb thing was: Penelope would have been happy to share the high-speed connection with her absolutely free of charge if she'd have just asked politely. It wasn't like Penelope was hurting for cash or anything. For that matter, Linda wasn't hurting for cash, either.

Penelope sighed. This was giving her a headache. And she was still no closer to figuring out what the hell had happened last night. Could Linda have been sneaking into her room and using her connection? Unlikely; Penelope was a little more intelligent about security than Linda. Besides, she'd not been out of the apartment anytime in the last two days, and the scene Linda had been imitating had been rendered within that span of time. Puzzled, she dug deeper into the documentation. Just what does Skimmerzdo,anyway?

Half an hour later she had her answer, and collapsed in peals of laughter.

Skimmerz was indeed allowing Linda to snag bandwidth from Penelope's supply, but that was only one of its uses. The damn thing was a cracking tool with a huge number of functions besides stealing illicit bandwidth. First of all, the thing had an elaborate trojan horse wrapped around it, and it had certainly been sending information about Linda's system to who knew where. Penelope disabled this immediately; if Linda was moron enough to do this to her own computer that was fine, but it was evident there was some kind of access to her own system as well, so Linda got a free ride on Penelope's security-consciousness, there.

Skimmerz was also a packet-sniffer, and although most of the functionalities there were disabled there was one bit which intrigued her—a check box entitled Frame Capture. Checking the docs, it turned out that Skimmerz would periodically sample the bitstream and if a file being passed was in a recognized format it would grab it and allow the user to display part or all of it. There was apparently a log file which listed the captures, and when Penelope checked it she finally found what she'd been looking for. All of the images she'd sent in the last couple months or so were listed under their filenames. So Linda'd been scanning her outgoing file transfers.

At first, Penelope had thought Linda must have been doing this on purpose, but when she checked the settings for the captures, it turned out that they were all set to the default values. All except the "Frame-Display Duration", which had been locked at... wellthatwas interesting. The minimum setting was one frame, and that was what Linda had set it to. But the refresh rate of the monitor was 60Hz, so that was only one frame out of sixty every second; at that rate, you didn't even have time to look at an image. Technically, your eyes could see it, but your brain just wouldn't register it consciously...

Wouldn't register itconsciously...Was that it? Linda'd had no clue why portions of Penelope's work had kept popping up, and instead of turning off the display she'd instead ended up dosing herself with subliminal messages? Leave it to Linda... but really, was that even possible? Then she remembered what Linda had mumbled before she'd gone back to bed:Thirteen oh six.Was that one of Penelope's filenames? She checked the cache for Skimmerz's frame capturing, and sure enough, 1306.jpg was one of the most recent images. Penelope had a pretty good guess what position the brunette would be in if she checked the files' contents.Knees to the floor, head raised to her mistress's breast...

Uncertain anymore what was possible or impossible, but pissed enough at Linda's idiocies to risk trying some mischief of her own, Penelope made one more alteration before she left. The default for "Frame-Display Frequency" was set to once per hour; Penelope cranked it up to once per minute, just to see what might happen... It was getting late, so Penelope closed everything she was doing, made sure the chair was back where it had started, and returned to her own bedroom. Mystery solved, and perhaps she'd have an opportunity to get back in some way at her annoying freeloader of an apartment-mate.

Linda didn't make the soccer team. She knew she was better than most of those bitches who had made it, but she hadn't been at her best because of the previous night's activities. That put her in a foul mood all weekend, and she sat around in a funk just downloading and playing music on her computer.

It didn't help that she was immeasurably horny for some reason, and that her boyfriend was at an Ultimate Frisbee tournament this week. She concentrated on the music and hoped it would go away, but nothing would stifle her libido and she embarrassingly resorted to something she hated to do: masturbation. She laid back on her bed and thought of Todd, and how it felt when he kissed her deeply and

from behind, licking around her shoulder blade, a smooth hand covering her mound as the full breasts pressed into her back

Full breasts at her back?Desire's Embrace.What the hell was that?1204.Gross! Linda stopped fingering herself immediately, creeped out. She got up, washed her hands and used the toilet, trying to blot the offensive imagery from her mind. She wasn't entirely successful; it's not easy tonotthink about something, but she at least concentrated on an email she'd just gotten from a high-school chum:

Dear Linds,

How's college life treating you? I'm way glad summer's here, although I am working the whole time. My parents are being jerks, and it's like I have no choice—

1067 Have No Choice

long painted fingernails clutching her brown hair, guiding her face into the tufted fur of the other woman's cunt

Grrrr! Dammit, what the hell waswrongwith her?! She turned off the computer, put on her running clothes and shoes, and decided to use up her energy in some kind of useful way: she'd do two miles or so.

She studiously ignored the dampness between her thighs, and walked out the door.

Penelope watched Linda from afar over the next couple of weeks, and smirked to herself when she saw the girl driven to distraction by whatever images haunted her from time to time. Even Cheryl commented on Linda's extra "attitude" these days, though unlike Penelope she was entirely unaware that the cause was her unconscious bombardment once per minute with sexually suggestive pictures. Once or twice when Linda thought she wasn't looking Penelope caught a glimpse of Linda absently stroking a breast while mouthing a number, her eyes glossing momentarily. Or hiking a skirt up a bit too high when passing a mirror, hissing"Seducer"while looking over her shoulder at herself. To "help out", Penelope had re-uploaded all of the female images she'd done in the past year at exact same time she was certain Linda was on her computer.

Linda would retreat into her room to sulk, or... do whatever... but Penelope knew she must be trying to distract herself with email or web browsing—which would obviously only make things worse! She was clearly at a spiritual low point, and Penelope almost felt sorry for her... but Penelope hadn't really had enough, yet. To tell the truth, like most artists she was a bit of a voyeur at heart, and this was turning her on something awful! She masturbated much more often when composing her images these days, and realized while she was doing it that she wasn't getting off so much on the sensuality of the poses, but on the fact that she knew the poses would be in Linda's unwilling mind, and that once in a while (it had only happened twice since that first night), Linda would sleepwalk into the living room again to live out one or more of the scenes. Just the thought of watching her do that was enough to provide a week's fingerplay for Penelope. She'd even started changing the brunette model slightly, making her look a little more like Linda, and the backgrounds for the images started looking suspiciously like the layout of her living room. No, she couldn't give this up, yet.

In fact, she had made a point to go into Linda's room again yesterday, and bumped the Skimmerz "Frame-Display Frequency" up to once per second.

I am not a lesbian!she thought to herself forcefully as she plunged her fingers in and out to a steady rhythm.I'm

0972 Pussy in Boots
lying back in thigh-high boots as her Mistress smears her face with cunt

not! I'm (commmmming...) not!When her hips stopped bucking, she relaxed back with a sigh, and she didn't even notice she had moved her fingers into her mouth until she opened her eyes and could see herself in the mirror again. She was

1417 Good Taste in Women

disgusted with herself for multiple reasons, now, but she couldn't bring herself to stop, because she just looked too fucking hot that way, splitting her pointer and ring fingers languidly with her tongue, breathing softly on them and then inhaling her own aroma.

Linda had given up on trying not to think about the erotic imagery dancing in her head; every night it was the same: eat dinner, retire to her room, and be barraged with nipple-hardening thoughts until she gave in and got herself off. Usually three orgasms was enough to allow her to fall asleep and make it through the night; if she delayed sleep for any reason the pictures (she insisted they werenotfantasies) would start showing up again and drive her to distraction. Twice she'd tried to take Nyquil, but both times she woke up feeling as if she hadn't slept a wink, and she suspected from the aroma of her hands that she'd spent much of the night masturbating in her sleep.

Todd was back, now, but despite his enthusiasm, nothing he could produce would do it for her: he'd pound away at her for what seemed like hours and, though it induced a pleasurable tickle, she couldn't attain the real pleasure she knew she needed. It was like having an itch she couldn't scratch. The closest she came was when she made him go down on her. By fantasizing that he was

0752 Worshipped by Goddess
the Mistress rewarding Her slave by driving her to the brink of tongue-ecstasy

someone he was not, she'd almost made it, but when she opened up her eyes and saw his brown buzz-cut instead of the long wavy blonde hair she wanted(needed)she lost the grasp of her orgasm and had to fake it to get him to stop his ineffective licking.

After he'd uselessly fucked her again, they'd laid back in bed and talked. He wanted to know why she'd been so horny lately, and she'd been completely at a loss over what to say.My head is full of pictures of tongue-fucking lesbos and I think I'm actually starting to like itseemed like it would have had the wrong effect, so she just said she'd been fantasizing a lot lately. He was so supportive that, in a desperate and vulnerable moment, she'd found herself asking him timidly what he would think of wearing a blonde wig next time they made love.

That had been a mistake. He'd laughed and then, when he realized she was serious, had made an excuse to go out and left her alone.

She'd cried, then; she was physically exhausted, mentally terrified...

... and sexually aroused enough that she started frigging her clit less than a minute after he left the room, imagining

1107 Mark of the Slut
fishnet stocking imprints on her cheeks as she parted the blonde's thighs to keep them open for her mouth

something, anything that would let her come. And as her loins were washed by a fiery tingling, her lips pulled back from teeth in a grimace of concentrated effort, the tears streamed unabated from her eyes.

Penelope realized that things were getting a little out of hand, though; Linda had dark circles under her eyes every morning, and was obviously not sleeping well. The last thing she wanted was to have Linda have some sort of a breakdown, and go to a hospital or see a shrink or something. She wasn't sure if doctors could figure out what was going on in Linda's head without knowing about the computer thing, but getting caught was not her worry.

She realized with a perverse thrill that her real worry was that Linda's libido would stop being hers to command.

Knowing that somehow the filenames and captions were coming through to her subconscious mind, Penelope tried interspersing pure text in with the pictures. She gigglingly made an image with big block letters of

I MUST SLEEP EIGHT HOURS A NIGHT

and uploaded it once per day to her website, in a directory which had no real public access. Linda started to appear a little less hellish and terrifying and more well-rested. She was still incredibly distracted, though, and Penelope would often wander by her, pretending to talk on her cell phone, and tell imaginary callers "phone numbers" while surreptitiously glancing Linda's way.

"Brian? Oh, yeah, he's at four-four-six, one-two-oh-nine..."

Invariably, Linda would not catch herself in time, and her lips would part to

1209 Suckle Forever
accepting a breast in mouth with glazed over eyes

reveal her impression of what she saw in her head. The impressions were getting better, too. Linda, generally a fan of casual clothing, had even started dressing sexier to more closely match the slut-wear her models used. Three-inch pumps replaced her tennis shoes (it made Penelope squirm when she wore them going out, but when she started wearing them around the house all the time, Penelope had spent an hour in her room fucking herself silly thinking about the power she held...) and the slits on her skirts went from Fashionably Flirty to Indecent Proposals.

One thing that did bother Penelope was the end of the nighttime field trips; it was one thing to know what was going on in her roommate's mind, but quite another to see her in the flesh, acting out her(which "her", Penelope's or now Linda's?)twisted fantasies on the living room floor in the moonlight. Unfortunately, Penelope wasn't sure what had caused the somnambulistic episodes in the first place, so re-triggering them was currently beyond her means.

Wait a minute, now... if I can use messages to get her to sleep more...

It made her feel good to know she was not alone. The websites she'd checked said that it was perfectly normal for otherwise straight women to have lesbian fantasies from time to time; it didn't mean anything.(But all the time? a little voice inside her cried, though she ignored it.)That helped in an otherwise traumatic time for her.

She'd finally been able to come with Todd again; he had fingered her through her panties, and by closing her eyes and picturing the outfit she was wearing (it was the same as

1265 Touch Me Harder
loose silk skirt hiked up around waist, stocking tops exposing creamy thigh, leading up to see-through panties with Her long-nailed hand inside

from the pictures in her mind), and thinking that Her fingers(not not not his)were touching her, stroking her, making her

1265 Touch Me Harder

(come)

1265 Touch Me Harder

(I look perfect I look just like it and Her fingers are making me)

(come!)

she'd made it not once but twice before he emitted an unwelcome male noise which disrupted her suspension of disbelief. She kissed him, then, though his sweat tasted unpleasant to her now, and apologetically told him she was too sore for any more tonight.

Which likely would have worked out, too, if he hadn't walked in on her masturbating that night on the toilet. He'd obviously suspected something was up, as he'd waited a couple of seconds before switching on the light, exposing her shamed cuntlips to his incensed gaze. She'd tried to stop, to confess everything, to ask for help,something,but the angry look he fixed upon her was a spitting image of

1043 Apology Expected
angry Mistress demanding cuntmouth service

and she couldn't help it, she couldn't stop and she fucked her pussy with her fingers as he yelled at her, his exact words drowned by her own cries of lust.

He threw open the front door, gestured emphatically toward it, and threw her clothes down in front of it. With that, he retired to his own bedroom, and she heard the door lock.

Something deep and dark within her sincerely hoped he'd called her a slut.

It was only seven, but already Linda had made her excuses and was headed off to bed, if not necessarily to sleep.Of course not to sleep,she thought.There's pussy to be had tonight...Penelope had looked amused and Cheryl inquisitive, but neither had commented.

She didn't give it much thought, though; as soon as she entered her room and closed the door, she took off her blouse, and sat down on the edge of her bed in front of the mirror. Slowly, elegantly, she eased a pair of fingerless satin gloves onto her hands and forearms. The dressy look contrasted markedly with her naked upper torso, but the satiny palms of the gloves felt soooo good on her breasts just like

1377 Offerings
fingers splayed around each nipple, presenting her tits for sucking to whoever was looking

she was supposed to. She was agonizingly hot from this, but wasn't about to come until she'd done more

1378 Path to Paradise #1
gloves at ankles, skirt hiked slightly

teasing. She watched in the mirror as her hands slid up her calves, rounded her knees, and

1379 Path to Paradise #2
yanking her skirt up viciously, caressing seamed nylon stockings with the other hand

exposed her slit to her own hungry gaze. Now both hands were on her thighs, and slowly she ran her fingers up to press gently against both of her labia, trapping the clit in between them and massaging lightly, indirectly. She looked straight into her own eyes as she ground her pussy against her hands, and the sight of herself in deepest arousal quickly became a feedback loop which culminated in the expected

1380 Made It There
eyes rolling back, toes clenched and pointed into the high-heels while rocked by orgasm

pink wash of heat as she came.

The hose, like the gloves, were a bit too expensive for her, but she'd dipped a little into her savings and taken a horny little trip to Frederick's of Hollywood. When the cute gal behind the register had rung up the total for the stockings, and it was $8.49, Linda had almost grabbed her and0849'd her right then and there. She'd somehow managed to hold it together until she could make it to the dressing room, but once there she'd fondled her clit through the new pair of panties while thinking of the clerk's pussy and whether she was really a natural blonde. The look on the clerk's face when she left the dressing room told her that the salesgirl had knownexactlywhat Linda had been doing, and that she'd betterbuythose panties now, dammit, or cause a scene. Linda had not begged forgiveness or asked to be punished or even licked away the mild imperfection in the clerk's lipstick, but she had thought of all of these things and more.