The Widow's Gift Pt. 07

"That's it, that's it..." Alina crooned lovingly up at Levi. Her brilliant gunmetal gray eyes monopolizing his attention as she ground her achingly alluring, lingerie-clad figure against him. "Take what is yours. Take it all and never look back, my darling Lion."

Finally finished and momentarily sated, Levi felt mildly woozy from the powerful sense of being utterly drained. Lowering a distinctly happier and fuller looking Kitten back down to the tabletop, he gave her big round ass a friendly swat and let his impressive length slide out of her puffy folds. Her ravaged slit gaped and a torrent of his steamy spunk started to bubble out before Dolly scrambled up to attach her purple face-pillows to the gushing source.

"Thank you for claiming my Kitten, Darling. She will be so much happier now knowing you have marked her with your virile seed." Alina cooed, immediately running her manicured nails down his chest to languorously wrap her clever fingers around his nectar-soaked hardness. "You are going to be such a fierce protector and wonderful provider."

His cock never really went limp anymore and the bewitching Goddess's soft grip couldn't entirely encircle the meaty width as she began to leisurely pump Levi again. She performed the action beautifully--just like everything else she did--at an easy, unhurried pace that seemed to say she could cheerfully stroke him for days on end without cease.

Levi didn't doubt that she could, and would--without hesitation or reservation--if he asked it of his gorgeous Lioness. He smiled lovingly at her, then quirked a curious eyebrow as he looked down her lacy top.

"You are leaking, my Lioness." He noted critically, staring at the decidedly dampened neckline of her tiny negligee. Creamy beads of white lactate formed and dripped through the thin lacy fabric. "Is that for me too?"

"All for you," Alina moaned in avid anticipation, drawing back her slim shoulders and thrusting her perfect milky mounds up at him like twin offerings. "Every part of me is yours, Darling!"

Hooking a muscular arm around her lissome waist, Levi tugged his voluptuous lover closer, lowering his head to tear the slinky sleepwear away with his sharp teeth. Her perfect chest bounced bountifully free and her pointed pink nipples glistened with dribbling lines of rich milk.

Levi growled in satisfaction when his lips closed around a rosebud tip and the familiar flavor of vanilla flooded his taste buds. Sweet as a certain Russian dessert. Soft hands threaded through his dense russet mane and pulled him tighter into her deliciously flowing bosom.

"Drink deep, my mighty Lion." Alina purred, intense desire heating her exotically accented words as he began to glut himself on her heavenly cream. "Afterwards I will show you some of the more interesting toys in the garage, and you can tell me how best to deal with that black-hearted harpy you call Britney."

Then, soft as the beating of butterflies wings, she began to sing for Levi in a soulful coloratura soprano and somewhere in the far off distance, the ghost of an orchestra began to play...

________________

Britney adjusted the rear vision mirror to check her makeup as she pulled into her personal parking space directly beside the University of Illinois-Springfield Athletics Center.

Was it unusual for a freshman student to have allocated parking on a college campus where most of the underpaid teaching staff had to squabble over the limited availability?

Certainly.

Were any of those dead-end faculty members up-and-coming cheers squad starlets with looks so killer they were practically genocidal and a horde of online devotees rabid enough to make the school board sweat?

Certainly not.

Her parking space was in the cool shade of a stately oak tree and was only a few feet from the side entrance to the building. It even had her name on a tin sign stuck in the adjacent lawn onto which one of Britney's many, many admirers had doodled little love hearts in red marker.

But that was how it went for someone so beautifully young, achingly pretty and conspicuously superior to everyone else. Life just gave Britney whatever she wanted. It wasn't entitlement... it was simply the natural way of the world.

Take her car for example.

It was a sporty little Audi coupe with a custom leather interior and a fold back soft top. Britney hadn't asked for it per se, all she did was post a single instagram selfie posed beside the luxury vehicle (#socute #dreamcar #instagood) looking phenomenal in a sexy scarlet wrap-around club dress and racy sling-back heels, right there in the car yard.

How was Britney to know her army of fanatical TikTok followers and dedicated simps would immediately launch, then nearly crash, a GoFundMe page to deliver the five-figure purchase--gift wrapped in a giant blue ribbon--to her uptown address practically overnight? These things just happened all on their own.

The lighting hadn't even been that good in the picture and Britney had hardly done anything with her hair...

Besides, the spectacularly stunning eighteen year-old cheerleader was already thinking about trading up for a newer model in a different color.

Honestly, sky magenta and gold rims were so five months ago.

On the other hand, it wasn't like she discouraged the attention either. It felt good to be adored. To know through a numerically tangible system of 'likes' and 'subscribes' that she was quantifiably better than those around her, in both her local reality and the wider digital world.

With a minimum of effort and the latest release of high-res smartphone photo technology--paid for by someone other than herself--Britney had launched a skyrocketing social media profile that the yokels of this provincial Midwestern town couldn't compete with or fully comprehend.

Like, how was any restaurant going to dare charge her for a meal when the threat of having their google rating sunk like the Bismark into the cold waters of one-star obscurity was only a few keystrokes away? Countless blue collar fanboys would review-bomb a local Springfield eatery they couldn't ever hope to visit on their factory drone incomes, praying that she might grace their collective working-class asses with a throwaway wink.

Britney hadn't paid to eat out in months

Not that she would eat half the carb-loaded crap most of the food joints in Springfield served anyway. Her viciously honed, ultra-fit body was a temple. An idol for everyone to worship at, though sometimes she still liked to order a banquet for four then stroll away under the impotent stares of the gawping servers once the food was brought out.

Just for kicks. A little bit of sport to remind everyone of their place below her on the ladder rungs of society.

Slipping out of the car, Britney donned her oversized Gucci couture sunglasses, tossed her wavy honey-blonde hair over a shoulder and took a moment to admire herself one more time in the driver's side mirror. She was gorgeous, naturally, but her brilliance lay in knowing how to present her world-stage beauty to best nail-biting effect.

Today she had gone for preppy college coed.

A slim-fitting ruched blouse of purest white hugged her trim torso, cinched in about her lean waist and toned stomach but unbuttoned at the throat enough to hint at the firm swell of her perky young breasts. Her latest miniskirt--and Britney had quite the collection--was a cashmere wonder of scarlet plaid pleats that swished around the tops of her sculpted thighs and left her long high-kicking legs out to soak in the warm springtime sun.

The three-inch heels of her black buckle-up ankle boots--Britney loved ankle boots, knee high boots were for fashion-blind clods who didn't have perfectly shaped calves and tight rears--clicked on the pavement as she paused a moment to let the world drink in her youthful magnificence then looked about in confusion...

The campus was quiet. Far too quiet for the midmorning hour.

She had been called in for a last minute exhibition of the UIS Prairie Stars by Coach Meadows. The refreshingly cut-throat championship-winning trainer had sounded unusually relaxed when she spoke to Britney over an hour earlier, waffling on about the importance of making it to the nationals and being oddly vague on any details concerning today's impromptu meet-up.

...and that was after Britney had been puzzling over the weird staticy audio message Kimmy had sent her the day before which sounded like a poorly recorded porno followed by beautiful, if badly muffled, singing.

Though at least two of the dirty-talking voices did sound faintly familiar. Even if she couldn't put her proverbial finger on where she recognized them from. Kimmy had been no help there either. All Britney's responding texts went unanswered and her calls went straight to voicemail.

Whatever, she could lecture the prissy Korean prude later on proper Bad Bitch phone etiquette after finding out where the fuck everyone had gone.

Peering over the designer rims of her shades, Britney frowned and looked around.

It was after nine in the morning and the college grounds should have been abustle with students going to class, loafing off or generally doing whatever it was plebs did when they weren't sending longing glances in her direction.

Instead, the stone sitting benches were vacant, the communal outdoor spaces were empty and there was nary a sign of a hacky sack circle to be seen anywhere. A cool breeze sent a tumble of dry leaves and several littered pamphlets down the cement sidewalk to swirl about Britney's booted feet.

Tisking in irritation she stooped to pull away a scrap of yellow paper that clung to her shin and hesitated as the print attracted her attention. The font was bold, almost physically so, and the bordering was a swirling pattern of cross-hatched lines that seemed to loop constantly into themselves like an optical illusion.

At the head of the text was an intricate spiral motif that drew Britney's eye like a bee to honey. It was shadowed in such a way that made it appear to sit just above the paper itself, twisting as her vision blurred in and out of focus trying to make it out in detail.

The springtime sun almost felt too hot all of a sudden and the breeze too chilly. The blonde freshman cheerleader shivered as she tore her watering gaze away from the spiral to read the inky lines of capitalized text below it:

UIS SCHOOL SPIRIT RALLY

09:30AM TODAY

IN THE RECREATION AND ATHLETICS CENTER

SPECIAL EVENT FEATURING THE UIS PRAIRIE STARS AND SPECIAL GUESTS

YOU DON'T WANT TO MISS IT!!

Those last six printed words seemed to leap out at Britney with far more gravitas than the default Times New Roman font should have ever been able to convey. Like a front page headline after a state of national emergency was declared or the death of one of her favorite Hollywood A-listers.

You don't want to miss it...

Prairie Stars, that meant her! The "and special guests" part was mysterious and unhelpful. But with less than thirty minutes until showtime Britney needed to hustle and get her game face on.

People would be filling the stands already and it wouldn't do her bid for cheer captain next year any favors to be seen arriving late.

With that in mind Britney started to briskly walk, then broke into a jog to reach the back entrance to the women's locker room.

________________

The back entrance to the locker room was actually a heavy set of metal fire doors.

They weren't supposed to be opened from the outside and a sign above the doorway warned that an alarm would sound in the event it happened. That may well have been the case when the seventy-two thousand square foot sporting arena was first built in the late naughties, but since the all-female cheer squad had claimed the women's locker rooms as their eminent domain, certain changes had been necessitated.

Important safety and security concerns had been bypassed, simply so the members--each of them exclusively young, stunningly attractive and superbly fit--had a discreet means of egress to and from their private clubhouse.

Britney heaved her way through those same doors, prepared to snap at anyone--short of Coach Meadows or the soon to be deposed Cheer Captain Ellory--who dared to shoot her a dirty look or snide remark.

Those were her personal prerogative after all.

But the changing room was surprisingly still, and worryingly underpopulated by the chattering forms of sixteen college-aged coeds getting ready in the woefully underutilized space designed to accommodate twenty times their number.

The deliberate display of wastefulness just added to the cheer squad's mystique and social stature. A sign of sinful excess that could be flaunted in the faces of the other women's intercollegiate sports teams who had to undress in the more public campus restrooms, or worse, in their shitbox cars.

That little reminder would usually buoy up Britney's anxious spirits and fortify the impenetrable armor of her haughty demeanor but she didn't have time to indulge in petty spite today. If her squad mates weren't there then they must have taken to the stage without her.

Unacceptable. Inauspicious! She didn't want to miss it...

Seething like an angry thundercloud through the rows and banks of boringly beige storage and timber benches, Britney rounded a corner only to stop dead in her stalking steps at the sight of two feminine figures struggling together on the tiled floor right in front of an open locker.

Tessa and Farah, her two newest squad-mates and minions, appeared to be... wrestling in a large slick puddle of what looked like vanilla pudding. Smelled like it too, if Britney's twitching nose didn't deceive her.

"What the..."

Her ocean-blue eyes trailed up the thick lines of white gloop coating the banks of lockers to the source of the pungent mess.

It was her very own locker.

The simple fastening bolt had been bent to a useless angle and the thin aluminum door was buckled where it had been wrenched open to spill the creamy slime everywhere. The interior and her skimpy cheer uniform oozed as though the boxy space had been piped full to the brim with the foul stuff. The rage and dismay Britney felt at the horrifying discovery was only partially eclipsed by the wet squelching noises of the two barely-legal freshmen rolling around at her feet.

"Get away! Is mine..."

"Hey, I got the door open, back off!"

The mocha-skinned knockout and the athletic brunette snarled insults at each other as they fought over a sodden white sneaker--Britney's sneaker--filled with the pearly gunk. They were only dressed in plain cotton bras and panties, as though they had been distracted mid-wardrobe change, and their slim young bodies glistened wetly like professional jello wrestlers.

"Don't be such a greedy bitch, Tara!"

"You're the one oinking like a piggy, slut!"

Britney could only watch in spell-bound confusion as Farah yanked the dripping footwear free of the other girl's grasp with a victorious cry, then buried her pretty face into it with a loud series of happy slurps.

"Fuck!" Tara swore, her carob-coloured curls were a soaked matted tangle that stuck to her heated cheeks like grade school glue. "Gimme that damn skirt--"

Then she snatched Britney's drenched blue and white cheer uniform off the hanger, held it in both hands over her upturned face and twisted it like a wet towel. Beads and strings of the vanilla goo were wrung out of the soiled spandex, splattering down onto Tara's outstretched tongue and drooling chin. One especially fat glob pasted a fluttering eyelid shut before the hungrily moaning coed began to suck the remaining pearly fluid out of the knotted-up skirt.

"Mmmwah! Tastes sooo~ good!" Farah slurred around her sloppy mouthful, her dusky lips and skin glossy with smeared cream.

"Glooormph~!" Tara agreed, much of her pungent prize running down her gulping neck to gather in the valley of her swollen tanned cleavage.

Blinking rapidly, Britney shook her head to clear the cloyingly sweet clouds from her mind. Since when did little Tara have cleavage? The girl was short and lean with a gymnasts lithe build, lacking an ounce of excess weight and--more notably--was flat as an ironing board. It made her the perfect candidate for basket tosses and one-armed lifts.

Farah was much the same. Britney had previously declared them the founding co-chairs of the itty-bitty committee during the standard hazing initiations that inducted them as full-blooded members of the UIS Prairie Stars.

She had been quite proud of that cutting quip at the time. All the rookies had to strip in the showers under the jeers and catcalls of the rest of the squad. An indignity Britney herself had been spared by means of implied threats and not-inconsiderable financial gratuities. All paid from the deep wallets of her countless online cucks of course.

What could they have possibly found to mock her nakedness anyway?

Her perfect tits, taut figure and tight butt? Ridiculous. Unnecessary.

Only now, midnight-haired Farah was bent double at hips that had grown thick with new muscle with her visibly rounder ass waggling high in the air as she glutted herself from Britney's shoe. She was even forming that mouthwatering crease at the summit of her fleshier thighs where her smooth pelvis kissed the tips of her meaty quads, kneeling in the stinky spill and gorging herself on vanilla-scented goop.

Tara was similarly changed, except where the Bedouin beauty sported fresh childbearing hips and an ass that would put the ripest Georgia peach to shame... the trim brunette was all inflating tits.

They bubbled and bulged from within her small training bra, rising like two oven baked buns from the pinching cups of her ill-equipped chest support. Underboob, sideboob and pushed-up cleavage burst from every side of the overwrought undergarment--warping and distending around the biting straps--as the otherwise petite brunette started licking up the sweet-smelling white muck off the locker room floor. Her chin was basically couched in her expansive tits as she tongue-bathed the tiles clean.

This was all wrong. Something had gone terribly awry and Britney wondered if she had strayed into some bizarro world alternate universe. A twisted twilight zone episode where good, compliant waifs guzzled tasty-looking slop off the ground and saliva flooded her own pretty mouth at the sweet temptation of sampling the flavor.

Just one small lick would be enough...

"No... no..." Britney groaned, feeling a strong magnetic pull towards the two girls and whatever the scrumptious-smelling hell they were wallowing in. Her booted feet stumbled forward on their own volition. "I--I can't... not me. Not like this..."

There was something powerful at work here. An abstract, indescribable weight pushed down on her thoughts and senses with all the sinister appeal of an addictive drug. If she accepted it, the immediate rewards would be exquisite, ecstatic bliss and Britney would be lost to it forever.

Deep down she recognized this. Didn't she peddle her own enchanting good-looks in a vaguely similar fashion. Trapping and ensnaring weak-willed losers in her complex web of false promises and erotic insinuation?

"Not me, never." She groaned, forcing her disobedient feet to take a single, painful step back. "Never me."

Then the college PA System hummed to life and an exotically accented feminine voice purred through the campus-wide speakers. It sounded musically melodic, full of eastern european soft vowels and had a husky seductive quality.

"Welcome prestigious faculty members and honored students." The faceless but undoubtedly gorgeous woman--judging by the rich timbre of her voice-- announced. "We thank you all for attending the UIS School Spirit Rally today. The celebration will commence with a performance from your very own Prairie Stars Cheer Squad. Please come on me in giving them a rousing round of applause..."