The Sapphic Sisters of Pax Bk. 04

"As you will recall, there was an ongoing incident related to the recent takeover of the Beginnings Fertility Clinic in Brooklyn, by our good friends at FIT."

"Okay, now you're just being sarcastic," said Ted.

"You're right, it's because I'm getting a fucking migraine and I don't know why," responded twenty-something Sloan. "To rephrase, the barbaric cunts at FIT - Females Inherit Terra, or Family Interaction Therapists - as part of their plot at Beginnings, deliberately infected one Beginnings employee, who infected another employee deliberately - as part of her mission to infect the whole place - who then accidentally infected her roommate. Subsequently, an apparent mutation of the virus, or perhaps just a weird reaction on their part, resulted in major, unforeseen changes in those two individuals."

"It's unclear just exactly what the changes were, as the only account that we have is third hand. One of our agents infiltrated Beginnings and was told by the brother of the roommate's boyfriend that the two women showed strong symptoms - of what, no one there knew, but we believe it was of a personality meld."

"What the fuck is a personality meld?" asked Tim.

Sloan sighed. "Up until now, a theoretical incident where two or more people share the same mind telepathically."

"You're telepathic," Tim said. "How is this different?"

"I can get a sense of what may happen in the near future, based on random perceptions of people nearby and their intentions. I can't get inside their heads, and they sure as hell can't get into mine, thank god."

"So, if I may continue..." Sloan said, as Tim's cheeks reddened. "The two individuals were shipped down here to Virginia from Brooklyn - our undercover agent at Beginnings found that out just before we pulled her out of there - and Pax Terra headquarters in Oz deemed it serious enough to send a team to investigate, and if necessary, take whatever needs taking and eliminate whatever needs elimination."

"What about the boyfriend?" Tim asked.

"Of course you'd want to know about the guy," Sean laughed. "I'll make you forget any other guys after dinner tonight, lover." The women laughed.

Sean and Tim as gay men were in sympathy with Pax Terra's efforts to stop FIT. FIT was radically in favor of eliminating men - all men, gay or straight - and in a case of 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', many gay males were extremely sympathetic to Pax Terra and would help the group when they could - if they knew of its existence.

While Pax Terra was not exactly gay male friendly, neither would they make any effort normally to hurt gay males. As such, gay men often found themselves working alongside Pax members to stop FIT in their various plots. Straight men were welcome to work with Pax too, but rarely did as Pax was continually taking their women when FIT wasn't. Still, there were a few rare straight men who sometimes worked with Pax Terra, at least when their interests converged. Bi women were in a similar boat. They couldn't be converted to either FIT or Pax if they were truly bi, but gay women could be. Bi women weren't fully trusted by either Pax or FIT, but worked with either or both sides at times.

"There's another reason why we're here, but I won't go into that right now," Sloan said. "Okay, we need to game plan," Sloan continued, looking tired. "What did you discover at the Psych Building?"

Tim answered. "Basically almost nothing in the areas that we expected to find nothing. We used the stolen swipe card and code in the hallway that our agent indicated had the highest likelihood of success. And bingo."

He continued. "We had our cover story, that the door was unlocked, but we didn't run across anyone conscious..."

"Conscious?" asked Sloan.

"No one up and on two feet," Tim replied. "We found a room outfitted like a high tech hospital room with two women in this weird kind of soft cradle. They had a bunch of sensors and electrodes on them, and the two women were naked and in a tight embrace." He looked troubled.

"And?" Sloan asked softly, sensing his distress.

"They were...all slimy looking, like a snake, or a slug, maybe. And writhing...writhing around each other, like snakes." He hesitated, then added, "It was kind of gross, to be honest."

"Did you see their faces? Was this them?" Sloan asked, showing Tim the two blown up pictures of Lihua Chen, the junior accountant at Beginnings and Leslie Banner, her roommate, that Pax Terra had scraped up from the investigation back in Brooklyn.

"Yes, it was them, of that I'm certain. But different." He looked to Penny, who audibly agreed.

"Yes, definitely them."

"Did you find any evidence of what they were doing there?"

"C'mon boss, we're not the highest paid spies in the United States for nothing," Sean said.

Sloan had to laugh at that. "No, I agree, you're not the highest paid spies in the United States...and nothing sounds about right...now, what did you get?"

"No low tech charts for those folks," Sean said, pulling a thumb drive out of his pocket. "Just an unsecured tablet with all their data on it. So, I copied what was on it." He grinned.

"Do you think you could at least spring for a six pack of Sam Adams for your wrecking crew?"

"Oh, fantastic," Sloan said, and impulsively hugged Tim. "Great work, I could kiss you!"

He looked down at her and dead pan, said, "Nobody wants that, Sloan." She looked at him and laughed again. "No worries, mate...but great work from all of you."

Chapter 5

"It's kind of a whirlwind," Cynthia Southern said, in what was for her a rare moment of frankness.

"It's not so strange," Deborah Arrington responded. "Two women often find they have things in common, and start spending time together. It's entirely natural."

"You're a college student...I'm a professional woman at a stock brokerage. I love spending time with you, but still..."

"Nonsense," responded Deborah. "I won't hear any more doubts. Doubt is a corrosive. You're a successful businesswoman, you must know that. Now, where shall we go today?"

"You're right," Cynthia sighed. "I need to break out of my conventional shell, and make a little time for myself, for something fun. Fuck work." She hesitated. "You're the one with limited time here, you have to go back to school from Spring Break in what, two weeks? You decide what we'll do."

"Well, why don't why we use the jacuzzi at your apartment building? I can't think of a better way to relax, can you? Besides, it's only 10 AM, there'll be no one there, and we can talk about things without being interrupted."

Cynthia agreed. Deborah wasn't surprised. She'd spiked Cynthia's glass of water when she met with her mother's friend on a trumped up excuse at lunch at a chichi restaurant in nearby Fargo two days before. Since then Cynthia had become more and more malleable.

When they arrived at Cynthia's townhouse, Deborah announced that she didn't have a swim suit, and asked if she could borrow one of hers. Cynthia agreed, but wondered why it hadn't occurred to her before, or why she herself didn't think of it. Cynthia had always been very detail oriented - it was probably a big part of her success in business.

"We've got similar hips and bust, although you're much taller, I'm sure I can find something you'll like," said Cynthia. "Come on into the bedroom and let's see." In retrospect Cynthia would have to admit there had been a peculiar, but very pleasant buzzing in her clitoris when she spoke those words, almost as though she were inviting a man into her bedroom for sex.

But of course there is a vast difference between having a man come up to your bedroom to fuck you, and a girl - a very young girl at that, a college freshman, compared to Cynthia's 33 years - coming there simply to try on a bathing suit, right? That was her intent, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

"How do you like this one?" she asked Deborah, showing her a Tommy Bahama bikini top and bottom in mare blue that she'd bought the month before, and hadn't gotten around to wearing herself. She confessed as much to Deborah, "It's less skeevy if it's not an old suit that I've worn around, y'know?"

"You mean, one that you've farted in?" Deborah replied with a smirk, as she quickly began undressing.

"Excuse me?" Cynthia responded, not sure she'd heard Deborah correctly. By this time, Deborah already had her jeans off, and was pulling down her panties. It seemed doubly odd because, what woman rushes through undressing in front of a virtual stranger, and what woman removes her pants and panties, while her top is still fully clothed?

"I said, 'one that you've farted in," Deborah repeated. "Here, smell these," she said then, pushing her still warm panties into Cynthia's face, and holding them over her nose while she hugged Cynthia tightly.

Cynthia struggled, disbelieving at what was happening to her. She inhaled through the fabric of Deborah's damp panties, and found herself calming in one sense, but her level of sexual excitement skyrocketing in another. Another woman was sexually molesting her, and she was becoming excited by it, not upset! The aroma of Deborah's panties wasn't particularly odd, though it seemed to be a combination of feminine musk, a faint peach fragrance and some rather earthy undertones, but she could feel her own pussy moistening, and her mouth opening.

It was as though Deborah had planned on that, because she began stuffing her dirty, used panties into Cynthia's mouth. Deborah then quickly slid her hands up Cynthia's slim body, under her own sweater and bra, pushing the soft, wired fabric of the cups off her breasts, and caressing Cynthia's bare skin, particularly her breasts and stiffening nipples.

"Mmmm," Cynthia mumbled, still stunned at the rapidity of Deborah's attack upon her and her own shockingly positive reaction to that, as well as her mouth being filled with someone's stained, dirty cotton panties, her mouth watering at the exotic taste and smell, if not the total lewdness and abandon of the act. She felt Deborah taking Cynthia's hand and sliding it between Deborah's warm, naked thighs, and humping herself on it, her hot, wet and slick gash rubbing up and down over Cynthia's fingers and palm, wetting them with her female cream, until she discovered that Deborah was no longer humping on her hand - Cynthia was surprised that she herself was actively fingering and caressing the pussy under it.

"Yeah, baby," Deborah breathed. "Fuck me like that," she said as Cynthia's fingers eagerly penetrated her. She bent down and brought her lips to Cynthia's, kissing her and taking a small piece of the thin fabric of the panties in Cynthia's mouth between her teeth, slowly and sensuously pulling the thin, wadded and wet, saliva-sodden fabric out of Cynthia's oral opening. She took it between her thumb and forefinger, the wispy, white cloth seeming so tiny and insubstantial.

Cynthia had little time for thought as Deborah's lips pressed against hers again, the kiss this time long and passionate, Deborah's tongue eagerly swabbing her slick gums and teeth, as though in search of the taste of her panties there.

Cynthia moaned at the thought of being owned by a young girl and what that might entail for the next few minutes, hours or days, her pussy feeling as though it were on fire. Her hand went to Deborah's face, at first to push her away - that was the only civilized response after all - but betraying her as the fingers stroked and caressed over the college girl's soft cheek, then her warm throat and neck, finally gently curling along the back of Deborah's neck into the warm forest of her scalp, thick, black hair around her fingertips, to pull Deborah's face closer to hers.

She became acutely aware of the sensations from the girl's slightly smaller, but so warm and soft breasts pushing into her own, a wildly unfamiliar sensation to encounter while kissing another person passionately. She would soon learn to expect the wonderful feel of a woman's soft breasts against her own whenever her tongue happened to be in another's mouth, to such an extent that the thought of kissing a man would quickly become repellent.

She felt Deborah's hand doing something, and broke apart their kiss to see. She was shocked to see the girl stuffing the wisp of fabric inside her own tiny, but extremely wet, pussy, until only a tiny bit of white peered out.

Deborah took Cynthia's head firmly between her hands and stared into Cynthia's hazel eyes.

"I'm going to need you to take these filthy panties out of my cunt, love. But I'd rather you didn't use your fingers. Think about how you might do that while we kiss a little longer." Before Cynthia had time to respond or even really think at all, she found Deborah's lips on hers again, the feel and taste of the girl's hot saliva running into her own mouth exciting and wonderful. She swallowed, mystifyingly finding herself adoring the taste of another woman's spit in her own mouth, her pussy echoing the thought, her panties sodden with her cream under her skirt, hot juices running down her inner thigh as she descended into sexual abandon with another woman.

"Unnh," Cynthia moaned, her heretofore unknown need for another woman crashing inside her like a rum runner on the rocky coast of Maine in the middle of a tempest, spilling hot contents inside her, changing her, making her so, so much better for what, she didn't know. "Yesss," she moaned, actively returning Deborah's hot kisses, feeling more than hearing the chuckles of knowing pleasure vibrating through Deborah's body.

She pushed the wanton girl onto the bed, her legs flying apart, as Cynthia crawled toward that beckoning slit, and the challenge Deborah had given her. The girl's thighs were slimed with a thick, viscous and clear liquid redolent of peaches. Cynthia began licking upward from mid thigh, towards her inevitable, much desired goal, the red cleft between Deborah's thighs. The taste was sweet, almost syrupy as Cynthia lapped at her smooth flesh, the fragrance richer and hotter as she neared Deborah's feminine center.

Cynthia growled with desire as her tongue slip slid its way up one side of her slit, the labia fat, plump and hot with Deborah's growing, already immense desire. She clumsily stroked her tongue around the college girl's clit, nearly purple, swollen and slick with her cream, touching too near at one point, causing Deborah to jump, then laugh insanely as her body shook with pleasure.

She lapped down the other side of that beckoning cunt, Deborah's labia there smooth and slick. Cynthia centered herself, like a hunter sighting in a gun to determine its true center, and stroked evenly up that wet slit, her tongue touching both labia so lightly that it tickled Deborah to distraction. At the top of Deborah's hot, steamy hole Cynthia gently brought her teeth to bear, catching the small patch of sodden white fabric between her incisors and worrying the now slick cotton slowly away from its warm and wet hiding place, vaguely wishing that she were inside that sweet home.

The panties slipped out, inch by inch, as though part of a magic act, Deborah's pussy lips parting easily to allow their exit, leaving a slightly dilated pink opening, gleaming with liquid along its smooth walls, a magically enchanting sight for the naive Cynthia, who at her advanced age of 33 had never so much as looked at another woman's pussy before. Not until Deborah infected her with the FIT virus, anyway.

It seemed now that she would never stop looking at other women's pussies, and her own body shook in pleasure at contemplation of such a pleasant future. Then she pushed her way in, her cheeks mashed against Deborah's wet and accommodating labia, her nose touching, tapping, teasing Deborah's excited clitoris, each bump bringing on a riot of ecstasy inside Deborah, endearing the woman to her Mistress of pleasure forever.

She licked and lapped and ate out her new friend and lover, coming more or less naturally to many of the pussy eating skills that other, less naturally gifted women, would spend years learning. Deborah rode the pleasure of a woman's aggressive tongue fucking her wet pussy, and didn't bother to alert Cynthia when she decided to pee while cumming, her hot, clear urine surprising the older stock broker.

"Fuck!" Cynthia began protesting, but as she realized that the humiliation and degradation of another woman pissing into her mouth and onto her face was exciting her more than it was angering her, she let her right hand fall between her legs and frig her own dripping cunt through her panties and panty hose, under her skirt. Her moans translated to vibrations that stimulated Deborah's little pink pearl of pleasure even more, both women cumming as Cynthia orally pleasured her young mistress.

At a certain point, though, it becomes inevitable that partners will want to be more perfectly naked while fucking, and Cynthia and Deborah were no exceptions. Cynthia leaned back and sprawled on the floor, stripping off her disheveled blouse and bra, and unbuttoning her skirt, slipping it down her slim legs, then virtually ripping off her pantyhose and slipping her soaked panties down her legs and onto the mattress.

She watched excitedly, her hand between her legs stroking and caressing her fat labia and her sweet, plump clit, as Deborah leisurely stripped off her long-sleeved shirt. Cynthia smiled as she saw that Deborah wasn't wearing a bra, her small breasts lovely and quite perky without one, nipples pink and stiff, displaying her proud pleasure.

Deborah laughed and lay back on the bed, but holding her arms out for Cynthia, inviting her into her nude embrace. Cynthia giggled like a little girl, rushing into her lover's hot embrace, the two women kissing fondly and deeply again, their heated bodies touching as much as possible. Breasts nestling with breasts, lips and cheeks kissing, hot, moist breath racing over each other's flushed faces, bellies kissing flatly, hips striving for position.

Soon their thighs maneuvered into a scissor position, teasingly tribbing each other as pussies, both steaming with wet lust, slid closer to each other, one completely smooth, the other with a small, shy trimmed bush above its clitoris, and the two women began humping and fucking into each other. Each slam of clit to clit resulted in a jarring orgasm for both women, their sighs and moist fragrances filling the air of the bedroom for what seemed like hours but was perhaps only twenty or thirty minutes. Still, what woman on earth wouldn't be envious of thirty minutes of non-stop orgasms?

And of course, that was one of the biggest reasons that FIT was certainly destined to rule the world, with all inhabitants of that world female and capable of enjoying unlimited, truly unlimited, pleasure with every other woman. Both Deborah and Cynthia by this time were absolutely convinced that they were the most fortunate women on the face of the earth, simply by having been converted to FIT - Deborah by her Political Science advisor at New Dominion College the first few days after she arrived on campus for her freshman year, and Cynthia by Deborah herself, within the last few days.

Both women would find the urge to infect other women overwhelming, as they would also find overwhelming their desire to inflict pain, misery and death on all men and boys, and also on a small group of confused and wrong-thinking women, members of a group that called itself Pax Terra. But FIT members knew that their victory was inevitable. They would simply figuratively choke all men and Pax members until they ceased struggling. Until then, the two women on this bed would fuck, and fuck some more.

***

With one week left of her Spring Break, Deborah reconnected with two of her best friends from high school, who, lacking her academic drive and scholarship, had decided to enroll in the North Dakota State College of Science - Fargo campus. The two girls were dating brothers, both also enrolled in the school.