Prom and Thereafter

"OOoooooOoOOohhh YYEEEESSS!! ANYTHING!! PLLLEEEEEAAAASSSEEE!!" She howled it! Her complete and total surrender. Her agreement to terms. Terms she did not understand or comprehend in the slightest. And yet, to stop the pain, she took them.

And at the very moment she did, Anjali released and relented. Letting her legs fall open and Allison to crash back down to her waiting body.

"And see...? Here I was thinking our families wouldn't be getting along." Anjali said with a smirk, as her free hands grabbed and then flipped Allison's light frame over. Then, before the young blonde had even a moment to react, she was pulled back up and into her Indian tormentor's lap.

Into her lap and against her - the victorious mother's breasts pressing into Allison's back, as the toned ass of the same settled into the V-shaped space between Anjali's spread legs.

"Now watch me, Erica." The wrapping widow called, as she brought her chin down to a rest on her victim's left shoulder. She wanting to watch her rival's face contort with anger and regret as she did what she was about to do.

As she reached down.

As she reached between.

As she lowered her right hand between Allison's legs. Legs which quickly and defensively swung shut

"Ah, ah, ah, you are mine, little dove." Anjali reminded softly with words, before doing so harshly with a quick tug at Allison's matted and sweat-wet blonde hair, they opened once more.

"Mommie..." Came the trembling voice of the broken daughter. Words of fear and worry that came just as her legs reluctantly opened for Anjali.

"Yes ... call to her. Call to your precious mommie. The one who put you here. Who let THIS..." Anjali's final word came with a swift inhale and intentional emphasis as she drove her fingers into Allison's sex without warning or softness. "...happen..."

"Ooooohhh gooOOooOOod." Allison said in reaction, as her body seized as it pressed back into Anjali's.

"A-Allison..." Erica muttered as she tried to crawl forward and towards her moaning, rival-held daughter.

"No, no, Erica. Remember what you said - what you agreed to. That you'd do anything I say, and what I say you do right now, is watch... Watch me finger your pretty little daughter." Anjali words were clear and her tone calm, if wanting.

Slow, though Erica's crawl was, eventually she made it to the feet of the two couch-bound members of their impromptu family war.

To the legs of her bested daughter and victorious rival. Legs which Erica reached for, and used, with the little strength she had left. She trying and pull herself up.

But just as the broken mother had found clearance from the carpet, one of the beautiful dark legs she grabbed raised. As it did, the sole of the foot thereupon pressed against Erica's forehead and pushed her back. The kick, if you could call it that, landing with not enough to hurt, but enough to send her back onto her ass - giving her a perfectly angled and seated view from which she could watch her daughter's punishment.

A punishment that progressed slowly, though Anjali's first stroke was hard. The Indian mother not wanting to rush through something so delightful. Something so perfectly humiliating for both Allison and her defeated mother. But it was not perfect, not yet. Not until Anjali had the attention of one other - one more.

"Nisha, child. Stop crying, sit up, and watch your mother break this pathetic little enemy of yours." Called she who slowly stroked her finger in and then out of the prom-going caucasian in her lap.

One might have thought Nisha would have recovered from her loss and the face-fucking that came after. But still did she lay, sniffling and sucking in air as if she had been drowned. She still broken in the most intimate and emotional of ways. Not only by Allison, but by her mother's focus on all else but her suffering.

And yet when that mother called, Nisha rose. Not to a stand, but into a sit, a few feet from Erica. Each of the two bent half-over. Their bodies and minds ravaged. Their ability to continue on lost. Leaving each only to watch Anjali as she worked Allison's already orgasm-wet pussy. One which constricted and tightened around the dark fingers that drove into it.

A seeking for depth and driving that occured again and again, as Allison began to l0se herself in the moment and the passion of Anjali's strength and control.

She finding herself focused not on the battles that had occured or her anger at the woman who hurt her mother, but instead only on the fingers within her and the pleasure they brought.

She moaning and whimpering once again. Not out of fear or pain any longer, but instead the ferocious hunger she felt for more.

More of what Anjali offered. More sensuality. More pleasure, even though it made her mother cry. Even though it made her mother weep from the cruelest of humiliations. Though perhaps not "cruelest" yet. Not until it suddenly stopped.

"NoOoo, what...? Keep-keep going." Begged Allison in a flash, as her eyes shot open with panic.

"Mmmmnnn, beg me..." Anjali answered, as she looked over her young victim's shoulder and locked eyes with her prey's shamed and sobbing mother.

"I... But... Please..." Without another word, the blonde senior offered it. Her pleas. Her prayer for more of what terrified her so when it began.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk - call me mommie." It was a dagger, a blade, driven directly into the heart of the mother who sat and watched her own daughter melt before her eyes. But surely, Allison wouldn't. Not then or ever, Erica believed. Erica knew. Until suddenly such beliefs were shattered.

"P-p-please, mommie..." Allison, in what felt to Erica like the deepest of betrayals, offered after the passing of only a few seconds.

"Keep goi-UuUUUuuUUNNnNnNGggGGHHHHHhHhhh!" As if calling her that name - Erica's name weren't enough, the lust-driven soccer player continued, until in a flash, Anjali's fingers drove into her once again. Fingers which came and went - came and went, gliding through the young blonde's most sacred of places.

All as Anjali kept her eyes on Erica's. The Indian mother's gaze cruel and confident - mocking and malevolent. "Watch her, Erica. Watch her writhe for me. Watch her moa..." Anjali did not stop her taunting. Her hateful, venomous commands for Erica to watch. But somewhere between their beginning and their end, the blonde mother could hear no more.

Her world seeming to go silent, as the true weight of her defeat and her choice to come to the Patel home crashing down upon her. She feeling faint and nauseous - devastated and destroyed in the truest of senses. The humiliation of watching her daughter not only be beaten and then fingered, but to then watch her give into the pleasure and call her rival mommie was too much. Too harsh. Too soul-crushing to even tell the passage of time.

Not until Erica found herself woken from such a state by a loud and orgasm-brought cry from her daughter. A daughter who, as Erica could see when her eyes began to focus again, began to spasm in Anjali's grasp.

Only then did Erica's wits return to her. Only then could she hear and understand the words coming from Anjali's mouth. Words that made her sick. Words that made the shameful fingering of her daughter, somehow, even worse.

"Now lick them clean for mommie." Anjali asked in a soft, loving tone, as she lifted the fingers that had just been within Allison's sopping wet pussy to the lips of the same.

"Mmmm, that's a good girl." As her mother praised Allison, Nisha began to break once more. Her eyes welling and her heart sinking so deep she felt as if she had lost it. Fuck Allison! FUCK HER! Nisha was so mad! So angry! Filled to the depths with hatred for her rival once again. And yet, unlike her mother. And unlike Allison. As Nisha filled with rage, all she could do was cry once again. Sobbing, almost uncontrollably, as she sat there on the carpet next to Erica, who did just the same.

But as they wept together and yet apart, suddenly were they woken from their loathing and self-pity. Not by an alarm clock or a crying rooster, but by a terrible scream. One that came from Allison, as Anjali stood up and with a handful of hair, yanked the previously ecstacy-lost prom-goer out of her lap.

"Spread your legs, Nisha!" Anjali demanded. "NOW!" She added in a shout.

"What...? I..." Nisha sputtered out. "What are you...?" She asked, as if her understanding played some role in what was happening.

"I told you to open your legs!" As she shouted in frustration, Anjali used her left foot to kick open her daughter's thin legs, and then cruelly toss Allison down, face-first between them. The young blonde crashing down, with her lips only inches from Nisha's still-moist sex.

"Lick her, you little slut!" Anjali demanded, every ounce of softness she had shown not moments before gone from her voice. "DO IT!"

As Anjali ordered and orchestrated, Nisha looked up to her terrified and timid. Her tears ebbing, if only from shock - only from a confusion that consumed her.

"Mother, don't... I..." Nisha began, not wanting - not needing whatever it was her mother had in mind.

"Shut up, Nisha! This little harlot is going to lick you, just as she would have done if you had been strong enough to beat her." At the words, the cruel, shaming words, Nisha closed her eyes, and began to cry once more. Not softly, but wildly. Not one tear or a few, but oceans of them. All as Allison tried to push herself up off the carpet and away from Nisha's sex.

But as soon as she did, Anjali lifted her right leg and pressed the foot thereupon down on the back of the young blonde's head. Driving her face down and into Nisha's pussy. "DO IT! Or I will hurt you and your mother, just as I did before. Is that what you want? Pain?!"

Allison did not answer with words, but at the thought of it, being stuck between Anjali's thighs again, Allison began to lick. Began to serve Nisha. And when she began, and the timid young girl's face made such beginning clear, she was given instruction.

"Grab her hair, Nisha. Keep her deep. Make her yours..." She didn't want it, and yet still the words were a lifeline. A rope from which to pull herself from the depths of her last remaining parent's anger. And so she did as she was told, reaching out with both hands and grabbing Allison's golden locks. Using them to keep her close and buried in her young sex.

With Nisha and Allison dealt with, Anjali turned to face the mother of the girl she just condemned to eating her daughter's pussy. And there she was found. Not sitting as she had been. Not weeping. But fighting her way to a wobbling and dizzy stand.

No doubt Erica meant to fight back. To take back, what she had said about "anything". But as Anjali turned, Erica stumbled and fell forward weakly. Her face colliding against the flesh between the Indian woman's breasts.

"And where do you think you're going, hmmm...?" Anjali asked as she grabbed two handfuls of Erica's hair. "I have more for you to watch you stupid white cunt." As she spoke it, the reality in which the weakened and defeated mother was still trapped. The speaker lifted and then rounded, slipping behind Erica, before dragging her back down to the floor of the living room.

Leaving them one behind the other, with legs spread wide, one pair laying outside the other, only a foot away from their daughters.

The view alone was torture in the most intimate of ways, but Anjali soon made it worse. Doing so by lifting and wrapping her sexy, toned legs around Erica's, from behind.

And as one pair of legs seized tight around another, so too did the Indian mother's left forearm wrap around throat. It, like the snake that once offered an apple to Eve, slithering beneath the blonde's chin and across her chest.

That grapple not a chokehold, but instead a taking meant to keep one rival from escaping another. The umber-hued beauty wanting Erica to see it, smell it, and hear her emotionally traumatized daughter pleasing Nisha.

"Such a good little girl, isn't she? Doing as she's told..." Anjali whispered as her lips pressed to the blonde's ear.

"Licking my daughter's pussy, just as you licked mine." As Anjali taunted, in a low, hushed whisper, Erica writhed weakly, wanting freedom, but having no strength left to take it.

"Mmnnn mnnn, don't fight it, dear. This is what you earned by coming into my house and challenging me..." Every word spoke was both bite and venom - waylay and wound, and despite her hate - despite her frustration, all Erica could do was listen. Listen, and against her most sacred of wills, watch.

Watch her daughter lay on the carpeted floor, between her prom-rival's legs, licking as she whimpered. Pleasing as she cried.

And as she did, giving into that new punishment, Nisha began to awaken once more. Her hands grasping tighter on Allison's beautiful blonde hair and tugging. The Indian daughter's lips opening to set loose moans at first, but then, as the thrill of dominance, earned or not, filled her soul, taunts.

"Aahhhh, yuuussss. You stupid white girl..." She began, her voice as soft velvet and as quiet as a mouse. "Give me what I gave to you..." Weak though such words were, compared to those of her mother, they were what Nisha could muster, at least at that moment.

"Is that how how you speak to a girl you hate, Nisha?! Is she your girlfriend now?!" Anjali came after her wide-legged daughter, wanting to teach her how to be strong. Wanting to teach her how to be dominant.

"So-sorry. I..." Nisha began, as a shame-brought tremble took her.

"Don't apologize, MOCK HER! Break her spirit!" No love. No empathy. Only demand. Only instruction came from Anjali, as she kept herself wrapped around Erica.

"D-do it faster, bitch!" Nisha suddenly shouted, as she gave a hard yank at Allison's hair. Dragging her deep into soaking wet pussy lips. "NOW! Yo-you breastless snatch-licker!" Finally it came, the words of hate that her mother wanted, and when they did, Anjali's focus returned.

Returned to the mother she held at bay. "There, see... I'm glad you could see that, Erica. How to parent..." The dark-hued mother began, as her free right hand moved down Erica's body, the fingers thereupon dragging gently down her sides, stomach, and then between her thighs. Thighs which were then pried wide, at the insistence of Anjali's tightening grapevine.

"Let... Us... Go..." Erica demanded as her right hand moved to her victorious rival's and grabbed. The blonde trying to stop it from completing its journey south.

"This wasn't what we..." Began the caucasian mother, before she stopped, realizing their agreement had been unspoken. Their mutual desire to use each other and their battle to get off, after what felt like decades of loneliness, put not in words.

"What we agreed to? Is that what you were going to say...?" Anjali responded and queried, as her hand pulled past Erica's weak resistance. The fingers on it finding their way between the still-moist folds of the sitting and spread-legged blonde.

"Well you changed all that when you tried to fuck me... When you tried mount me in my own home... After we had both gotten what we wanted..." Despite the obviousness of the cause, somehow, the thought hadn't crystalized in Erica's mind until that moment.

"Wha...?" And though she began to understand, she still asked in a mutter.

"You knew what this was about, and yet you tried to take more. Well now I'm taking more. I'm taking your EVERYTHING." At the final word of EVERYTHING, Anjali drive her fingers deep into Erica's carnal canal.

At the entering, Erica moaned out, her voice echoing through the lamp-lit home. Then a moment later, Nisha did the same. She giving off a deep, animalistic sound of pleasure as Allison continued to please her. To worship her sex, even as she sobbed.

"I'm taking HER everything..." As terrible as the last few lines were, when Anjali added Allison to the promise - to the explanation, Erica melted. She beginning to whimper and cry, even as her tormentor began to stroke her fingers in and out of her sex, once and then again.

Each pair of rivals then finding a rhythm and a pace. Nisha keeping Allison compliant and licking as Anjali continued to finger as her broken enemy mother watched.

In that state of perfected punishment the two families persisted and lingered. With Allison suffering the shame of defeat and subservience to her rival. Just as her mother, even through her despair and guilt, began to feel it.

Pleasure.

An unwanted. Unwelcome pleasure that made her nauseous even to contemplate, let alone feel. After all she had said. After all she had done and was doing, still, did Anjali's fingers bring Erica excitement and ecstasy.

She hated.

Hated her.

And yet.

"OOOOooOOoo goooOOooOoOOd, mMmMmmnNNnNnNnnn." It came upon her in waves and then in floods. Desire, passion, and worst of all a want - a NEED for more. A need to release once again.

An urgency and sexual demand for satisfaction that Anjali nurtured and coaxed. She going slow and then fast. Deep and then shallow. Working Erica's clit and then the wet walkway to her womb in alternating intervals, that drove the shattered mother wild.

Until finally, when Erica was at the very precipice of orgasm - and the cliff-face of climax, Anjali withdrew her fingers without word. And when she did, Erica panicked.

"No, no ... please... More... Finish me..." The blonde begged, she having given fully into not only her own punishment, but by the blinding light of erotic bliss forgetting about her daughter's.

"Kiss me and I will." Came the ultimatum. One that Erica surely would reply to with never - with refusal in the most harshest of terms.

And though she should have given such a reply, within a second or perhaps two, she complied. Without hesitation or resistance. She leaning her head up, back, and as Anjali leaned down, kissed the woman who was torturing her. Their lips locking and tongues swirling together in a maelstrom of saliva and maddening desire.

As that kiss continued, and as Erica moaned into it, Nisha began to whimper, then to moan, and then, at the end of escalation screamed out loudly in a desperate and incredible climax.

She, just as Allison had before, thrusting her hips and pubic mound forward, even as she sat. Slamming it into Allison's swollen face hard, as the dark-skinned prom-goer rode her rival's face not to but through her orgasm. Bucking wildly. Awkwardly. And on youthful instinct alone.

And as that scream carried, and as Anjali continued her soul-draining kiss with Erica, the same began to reach it.

Her own high.

Her own mountain top.

The intoxicating mix of hearing her daughter's rival scream and feeling, in the most intimate of ways, the taboo nature of kissing a woman who was forcing such cruelty upon their family driving her to the edge and past it. Anjali's mix of sensuality and punishment shoving the blonde mother off the edge on which she had lingered for oh so long. A fall from precipice that caused Erica to seize and scream, as she reached, with both hands, for Anjali's arm. To take it. To squeeze it. And to hold on to the woman that at that moment owned her.

Try though Erica did, to pull away from their kiss, Anjali kept her. Their lips remaining sealed, and tongues remaining coiled, even as Erica came.

Even as her toes curled and body shook.

The orgasm intensified, and, in fact, made incredible beyond words by Erica's unrepentant desire and logic-defying demand for Anjali's sexual attention, shameful though it was.

And though that release of demons and expulsion of humiliation-built need made her climax both last long and linger hotly, eventually did it pass.

Erica coming down from her bliss, not moments after Nisha did the same. Each with their eyes closed, and bodies quivering. Their minds, losing track of where they were or how they had reached that highest of highs, until Anjali suddenly moved.