Posed for Success

Now, however, after two more hastily conceived orgasms, Linda collapsed, spent, on her bed, a smile on her face, not even bothering to remove her clothes.

It wasn't even nine-thirty when Cheryl took her leave, citing her own tiredness and inability to get to work on time, and Penelope sat in her bedroom with the lights out, but the door open. Was this going to work? She'd uploaded the new text messages this morning, but wasn't even sure if Linda had used her computer since then.

Her alarm clock read ten, and eleven, and even midnight, and nothing was happening; Penelope was somewhat disappointed, but she hadn't really expected it to work, despite the seeming-success with the eight-hours-sleep messages. She got off her bed and was about to enter her bathroom to wash up when she heard a sound.

The characteristic clomping of heels coming down the hall from the other end of the apartment. She was coming.

Penelope waited until the heels had walked on by and had come to a stop in the living room before she left her own bedroom.

Moonlight streamed in through the front windows, illuminating the sleek and quasi-nude form of a girl standing at rapt attention, legs arched, hands cupped around an imaginary head nestled betwixt her thighs. It was intensely erotic, and Penelope gasped.

It was her roommate.

But it was the wrong one.

Instead of Linda, Cheryl stood posed, blond hair flung back, lips curled, eyes slitted, hips caught in mid-wrench, fucking her imaginary cuntwhore's face.

What the...?

"Cheryl?!?" escaped her mouth before she could stop herself.

Cheryl was oblivious to the meaning of her name, but she replied evenly, "STAY ASLEEP BUT MUST OBEY".

Omigod.That was one of the text messages. Cheryl had been using Linda's computer all this time. She'd been getting dosed, too, and Penelope hadn't known it because Cheryl wasn't taking midnight trips to the living room to jill off.

"MUST BE THE PICTURE MUST OBEY TONIGHT," Cheryl resumed, sleepily.

This is so wrong,thought Penelope. Cheryl was a sweetie; a little on the dense side, perhaps, but Penelope had absolutely nothing against her. This was not what Penelope wanted.

Then why is your hand still in your panties?

Another clatter of heels in the hallway gave her no time to ponder her own decrepitude. Linda was here.

Slave-Slut was in the room now, clad in the silken things which were right.

She was asleep, but she must obey.

She saw the moonlight, and she saw where she needed to be on the floor... and she saw the blonde Goddess waiting for her supplication. The Goddess was in black lace, pantiless, garter-belt framing the delta of her sex, and her ass was tightened with the effort of thrusting her mons forward. With a thrill of recognition, Slave-Slut knew from the position of her Mistress' body that it was 1401 she must be.

She must be the picture. She must obey tonight.

As the number flashed in her head, her knees folded of their own volition, striking the hardwood floor with a thud, and bringing her face to ... face... with what she wanted, what she needed, what she craved.

She was asleep, but she must obey.

Penelope saw what was happening and knew she should stop it with every last fiber of her conscience, but seeing her two roommates like this, even Cheryl(especially Cheryl... No... stop thinking that way, she told the part of her brain which seemed connected exclusively to her pussy)was beyond arousing—it waspowerful. It was like some kind of apotheosis, knowing that she had this kind of ability to manipulate their thoughts, their wills...(their cunts...)

As Linda's face sank into the fur between Cheryl's thighs, Penelope made her decision.

"1401," she said, softly but with authority. "Tasting Obedience. Must be the picture. Must obey tonight."

Both of the other women repeated, "Must be the picture. Must obey tonight. 1401." Linda's voice was understandably muffled.

Penelope fingered herself to orgasm as she watched Linda begin eating Cheryl out, and fucking her own hand.

Cheryl had no such need.

Morals can be a funny thing, and once cast aside don't seem to return.

Penelope still ran her website, but with an added bonus for members—for an extra fee, a VIP membership could be obtained. VIP members got all the same benefits of regular members, but they were allowed to access the secret stash of Penelope's files.

VIP members got to see the same kinky poses rendered in real, honest-to-god, photographs.

Cheryl and Linda still didn't know about Penelope's website, or how they spent some of those early nights, but a significant number of text messages later, with Penelope's assistance their fantasy sleepworld began to intrude on their daytime life. Though not advertising the information to anyone outside the apartment, both young women spent a good deal of their non-photography moments in Cheryl's bedroom, where submissive Slave-Slut Linda would worship at her Goddess's cunt for hours on end.

Penelope watched, of course, but never participated, because... she never felt right about that. Her voyeurism, however, knew no bounds, and she was inspired by their acts to create impressive (and money-making) poses she'd not before considered. And to come avidly when she told them, asleep or awake, what to do next.

She used the extra cash to keep the apartment running smoothly, so neither of the other girls had to work. Linda stayed in school, because Penelope didn't want her parents to suspect anything awry, but it wasn't too long before she realized that Linda had a lot of very hot friends. Some text messages suggesting that Linda might want to let these friends use her computer to send email were quite possibly in the future. As for Cheryl, she turned out to not be as dumb as she appeared. Penelope tailored some messages which made her more dedicated to her work—both business and academic—and as a result she was now assistant manager at her store and getting high marks in the computer science curriculum she was studying in her off hours. Which made Penelope feel good, and the delicious irony of Cheryl's major made her laugh from time to time at the situation, and at the sheer wrongness of the joy she found in it. Nothing, though, gave Penelope pause or impelled her to turn back from the path she'd started them all on.

Morals can be a funny thing.