Slippery "Let's have an asshole-eating competition this morning," Barb said as she looked over at me from her pillow. It was the kind of thing she'd say. "I don't think so," I said sharply, or as sharply as I could with the morning's grogginess in my voice. I needed to pee, and get my thoughts together before I could properly reply to her usual barrage of rude suggestions, designed to make me melt into a puddle of lust and do anything she wanted. "Aw, c'mon," she said, snuggling closer to me. "Don't you like the idea of sticking your tongue up my asshole? Wiggling it around, feeling me squirm and moan?" Her hand crept across my breast, and I could feel her hump the blankets between us. "Not particularly." I rolled over before her hand could get a grip on my nipple and melt my grumpiness. "Excuse me, please, dear." I got up and stalked into the bathroom, relieved myself, brushed my teeth and washed the scum off my face, and felt much more human. I came back into the bedroom and flopped back down on the bed, thinking about all the hundreds of things I could do today besides sex. Or trying to, anyway. "So what about my offer?" Barb was watching me from her side of the bed, eyes glittering with mischief. "Only if you get an enema first," I snapped with annoyance. "OK," she said. "I'll have one if you'll have one." She grinned again and rolled over, wiggling her toes and her butt, and I gave in. A little, anyway. "All right." Grudgingly. "But breakfast first." "Enemas work better if you're empty. Less cramping." She narrowed her eyes at me. "You ever given one before?" she asked. "Nope." "Taken one?" "Nope." I tried to sound nonchalant, not grim. "You?" "Yes and yes. I'll show you what to do. I'll even go first," she said innocently, as if I didn't know what she was planning. I could tell from the first word out of her mouth that she wanted to be in charge today, and she could tell from my reluctance that I wanted to be seduced, led along, forced if necessary. It's a complex game we play. I wouldn't trust anyone else to be skilled enough to read the meaning behind my rebuffs and prevarication. I mean, I want to be a wanton slut sometimes, but it takes a while for me to get there. Barb knows. She just grinned at me when I avoided her touch again. She'd wait. "Now grease the nozzle real good," she said from her position on all fours in the bathtub. "Got it? OK, keep one hand on that clamp on the tube. I think I can take the whole thing, but be ready to clamp it off in case I can't." I spread her ass with one hand, trying to find her hole with the plastic thing in my other one. She gasped when it went in, and then groaned when I released the clamp and heard the rush of water. I was beginning to have second thoughts. If this could make her groan, I might be in trouble. Barb's a world-class masochist, the beat-me-black-and-blue type. That can be a real turn-on, when I'm the one in charge and she's sucking on my stiletto heels while getting whipped, but it's a bit intimidating when it's her turn. I can take a little pain if I have to, but I don't like it all that much, and I'm not even remotely in her league. The bag emptied and she stayed there for a moment, groaning. I wondered if she was okay, and tried to help her up. "C'mon, honey, let's get you to the toilet," I said, hefting her up. It was only a minute later, while I was washing my hands, that I realized she was waiting to give me one last chance to turn the tables. She's good that way. It wasn't her fault that I'd missed it. Barb washed her crack carefully and then turned to me with an evil smile on her face. "Your turn, babe," she said so sweetly that I could almost forget what was going to happen. I climbed into the tub awkwardly, the porcelain hard and cold under my knees, and leaned forward. Barb messed about, getting things, filling the rubber bag with more hot water from the sink. I didn't look. I was testing what it felt like just to kneel there, like one would test a sore tooth with your tongue. Barb leaps into this stuff, topping and bottoming both, with the enthusiasm of a white-water rafter, but I have to ease myself in like the kid at the beach who can't swim. The tub floor was slippery against my hanging nipples, and I knew my knees would ache if I was kept there for too long. I hoped she wouldn't do that. I also knew I'd stay there until she told me to get up. Once I make up my mind, it stays made up. "Ready, sweetie?" She was still being nice to me, gentling me along. I felt her spread my ass and probe with a lube-coated finger, and I got instantly wet, arching up my tailbone, like a cat in heat. She noticed, but didn't take advantage of it, not yet. I was silently grateful. Then she slid the nozzle in - it wasn't very big at all - and I felt a sudden rush of very warm water going inside me. I yelled, more out of surprise than pain, and then in real pain as I instinctively clamped my muscles down and it hurt, it really hurt. "Relax," I heard her order, and after a moment of pain, I did it. Fat girls like me train ourselves to go around with our stomachs held in, just to get that extra inch smaller. It seems somehow sinful to let your gut hang down all the way, but that's what I was being forced to do. I watched my belly swell almost pregnantly between my big tits, me breathing hard and biting my lip. then she clamped it and the flow trickled off. "How's that, honey?" she asked, an edge of malice in her voice. "Not too bad, I hope?" I responded with an incoherent groan and she laughed. "Now I'm going to pull this out for just a second, and I want you to hold it in. Just for a second. You can hold it that long; I don't want you to spray the bathroom with shit." I nodded. I could hold it long enought to get to the toilet and dump it, really I could. And I was eager to. I'd have crawled there. But no sooner had the nozzle come out than something larger was thrust in, holding the water in place. "Aaugh!" I yelled, recognizing the pink buttplug we've used so many times before. "Barb, no! I have to let this out! Stop it!" "Giving orders, are we?" There was a hard slap on my ass that rocked me back and forth, breasts and swollen belly swinging like pendulums. "I'm not done with you yet, girl." "Barb, no." I don't know why I was trying to reason with her. It made no sense at all. I could just get up and go, and she wouldn't stop me. I didn't. "Barb, I can't! I can't! Don't-" My voice scaled upward and then was muffled abruptly as she reached down and shoved a gag into my mouth. It's the one I like best, the small cock-gag of hard rubber that I can bite down on as hard as I need and not break my teeth. That gag calms me, makes me feel better. Since I can't yell anyway now, there's no point in it. When you're a verbal, articulate person like me, there's something terribly comforting about being robbed of your power of speech. When we're doing a scene where I'm acting defiant, Barb will sometimes make me put it on myself, making me lock it with the padlock that hangs just behind my ear, forcing me to mute myself. She had fastened it with a cliplink this time, which meant that it would only be in for a little while, not hours. She's done that too, made me clean the house locked into the gag, with the buttplug up my ass and rubber bands around my nipples, a frilly dress over top of it. So far no one's come to the door. "There," she said, stroking me like an animal she's gentling, "that's better, isn't it?" Her fingers stroked my now very wet cunt, and in spite of the pressure I arched up into her hand. She rubbed my clit for a moment and then insered something into my cunt. It's the little egg vibrator, the one we never use because I'm such a size queen and like big ones. Now that I was filled with water, though, it seemed huge. She turned it on and I was filled with vibration as well, shaking all the water in my bowels until I felt like screaming, or coming, or both, I couldn't tell. She slapped my ass, reached down and pinched my nipples. "All right, Titties," she said, "come for me. You don't get to shit until you come, Titties." I almost came from hearing her say that. It's a special scene name, not for public use. I don't want anyone else to hear it, for it to be defiled by their lips. Titties isn't me. Titties is a slut who begs to be fucked, who would do anything, no matter how degrading. (Well, almost anything.) Titties is Barb's special pet, and no one else gets to see or know her. She's a gift, for both of us. Barb tickled my clit, and I came, groaning and shaking and contracting around the vibrator and plug. I felt a kind of triumph at being able to come in spite of the bowel discomfort, or maybe because of it. She let me up, then, slowly, and helped me over to the toilet, where I was relived of the egg and the buttplug and allowed to empty myself. I sat passively, gagged and unmoving, as she played with my breasts, squeezing and fondling them; then she pulled me up and carefully cleaned my asshole with a washcloth. "You're not quite clean yet," she announced. "You need another load." And ignoring my whine, she propelled my only slightly resisting body back to the tub for another hot bagful of water. Half an hour later, I was kneeling on the bed, clean inside and out, my hands cuffed behind me. Barb was messing around with my breasts again. I used to be ashamed of them, huge floppy watermelon lumps that they are. I used to be ashamed of my whole body, of the wide hips and big ass and great rounded belly, the thighs that are the size of many women's waists. But she takes so much delight in my billowing flesh, whether it's worshiping every square foot with her tongue while she's chained to the bed, or tying up, kneading, slapping, and generally having her way with it when I've gone under for her, that it's given me back a feeling of desirability. Now she was tying up my tits with a long rope she'd washed in fabric softener for this very purpose. It seemed like a weird thing to do when she first suggested it, but I quickly became enamored of the way they feel when she's wrapped several tight, tight loops of rope around them in a figure-eight so they stand out like globes. It looks like it should hurt terribly, but it doesn't; it makes them incredibly sensitive. Barb knew this, and gave me a little slap, making me jump and squeak. She ground her thigh between my legs, smirking. "Titties likes this, doesn't she? Titties wants her big slutty titties tied up and hurt." She grabbed me by the chin and undid my gag. "Tell me how much you like it, Titties." Oh, shit. I hate this part. I also need it. "Yes, Mistress," I whispered, feeling like an absolute fool and grinding my crotch desperately against her leg, I was so horny. "Please punish my tits, Mistress. Hurt them." I pause, take a deep breath. "Hurt my big fat slutty titties." I don't know why my cunt should be this wet hearing her talk like that to me, hearing myself say those humiliating things. I mean, it doesn't make any sense. If a man said those things to me, I'd want to kill him, I'd want to get my hands around his throat and strangle the life out of him. Coming out of her mouth, they turn me into a sex puppy faster than you can say coprolalia. I still don't understand why. Maybe it has something to do with trust. Barb's proven to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that what she says to Titties has nothing to do with what she thinks of me. "Let's see those titties bounce for me," she said. I swung them back and forth the best I could with my hands behind me. They didn't bounce as well with the ropes around them, but I got some good jiggles in. Titties is a total slut. My god, she'll do anything. Disgusting. "All right, then," she said, and gagged me again. I breathed a sigh of relief, and then yelped because a short red plastic flogger had appeared in her hand and was making red marks come up across my bound tits, one two, one two. In spiute of myself, I scrambled backwards, and she grabbed me by the hair and continued to work them over until I felt like my jaw was going to crack from biting into the hard rubber. One second before the edge of my endurance, one hair before I would have safed (three evenly spaced grunts) she stops, leaving me practically hyperventilating. I'm really not good at pain. Sometimes I wish she wouldn't insist on it. I'm glad she does. "Baby, baby," she croons, stroking my welts, "you know why I have to hurt you like this. It isn't because I don't love you, or that you've been bad. It's just that it makes me hot, baby. You know that." I nodded, rubbing my head mutely against her shoulder, an animal's gesture. I knew. She must have been wet to the knees by now. I decided to make her even wetter, and I bent forward until my face was mashed into my tits on the bed, and wiggled my ass. She laughed and slid a finger up across my cunt. "Somebody wants to get fucked," she says evilly. "Does Titties want to get fucked?" I wiggled my ass as hard as I'd swung my frontal mounds earlier. It was pure Mafia porn, pure trash, garbage, I told myself. You don't have to be doing this. Yes, you do, said my cunt. I felt Barb's lips against my butt, high in the air, and then she worked her tongue into my ass, warm and wet and slippery. I made a noise of pure pleasure and pressed back into her face. She got her tongue in as far as it would go and then started sucking on the delicate ring of flesh surrounding it. What would my mother think if she could have seen me now? She thinks we're average ordinary dykes with two dogs and three cats and a lizard, nice lesbians who vote Democrat and recycle their trash and wouldn't be caught dead tied up with their tongues up each others' butts. I closed my eyes in pleasure, but as soon as I started to think about coming she moved away and started greasing me up with fingers and serious lube. I adjusted my knees and sighed happily. Titties loves to get fucked in the ass. Well, actually, so do I. When I dropped my last boyfriend and took up girls, the one thing I missed was cock. I couldn't admit it, of course; how could you say to a woman you're sleeping with that you really miss having a dick in bed with you? The irony was that I didn't particularly miss the men who had been attached to them, any of them. I just couldn't seem to get over the idea that sex was supposed to climax with something large and hard shoved into your orifices. Any of them. All of them. I'd been a real cock-slut as a het girl. I used to lie awake fantasizing about making it with three men at once, wishing my boyfriend would have let that happen. The first time I went home with Barb, she showed me her dildo collection - twenty of them - and the look on my face must have been an instant neon sign, because she had me on the bed with my skirt hiked up, stuffed full, in no time. Barb was even more into cock than I was, and she had even less use for men. She just loved shoving things in women, including herself. She could come just from watching me deepthroat a Jeff Stryker realistic model or shove a black plastic shiny thing up my rear end. It's not fashionable to be a dyke and be so obsessed with penetration. Some of our friends would be horrified. The idea made me even wetter. Greased and ready, I kept myself as loose as possible while she slowly worked a good-size cock into my ass. I moaned and cried our and fantasized being raped, and she finally got it in with a lot of lube and care. The big ones hurt more going in, but once they've been in a while my ass loosens up to take them easily, and if we'd used a smaller one I'd be begging to replace it. Barb's teased me about being a size queen. She found another one, and, working my clit with her hand, squeezed it into my cunt. I love the feeling of being filled; it's satisfying, like a good dinner. She worked them back and forth, first alternating, then shoving them both in and out with one hand. Pushing them all the way in, she asked, "Think you can keep them there, babe?" I nodded, and she flipped me over into my back. "Keep those legs spread, Titties," she admonished, giving me a warning slap on that part of my anatomy, which were still bound and sensitive from the recent beating. I squeaked again. She undid the gag and kissed me, letting me rest my jaw while she slid her tongue around my lips and teeth. "Fresh from your asshole, Titties," she whispered to me. "You have one tasty asshole, girl. And now it's your turn. Remember what we're supposed to be doing? Think you can prove to me that Titties is a better ass-licker than her Mistress?" I moved my lips, trying to tell her that Titties will lick anything Mistress wants, any time, but I couldn't get the words out his time. She watched me closely for a moment as I struggled and looked at her pleadingly, but there was no pity in her eyes. "OK, babe," she said. "If that's the way it's gonna have to be." She leaned over the edge of the bed, out of my field of view, and then came back up with nipple clamps on a chain. The evil ones wih the alligator clips. I suddenly found I could speak, but the wrong thing came out. "Oh, shit," I said, and I tried to get away across the bed, which isn't easy when you're tied up and stuffed full of cocks. She dropped the clamps, grabbed me by my hair, and smacked me good and hard across the face. Immediately I went limp in her grasp, whimpering. Pretty sick, isn't it, to get off on having your face slapped? Once she did it fourteen times in a row, really fast, and Titties came. Titties is a sick fuck. Really. Barb grabbed one tit and pinched the nipple, twisting it and getting it hard, and then snapped on the clamp before I could really take advantage of the sensation. Then the other side. Then she smacked me again. "Say it," she said, yanking on the chain. I was so turned on it didn't really hurt, but the point wasn't to punish me into talking with pain. It was just to put me into a state where I could get past my inhibitions and just spit out whatever Mistress wanted. "Let me lick your asshole, Mistress!" someone yelled, writhing around on the bed. It couldn't be me. I'd never say anything like that. "Please, Mistress, let Titties lick your sweet asshole clean!" Yup, it was her, that traitorous slut. And she was getting her wish, too; Barb was straddling my head, facing my tits, and then she spread her ass cheeks with her hands and plopped down onto my face. Titties leaped right in, of course, like the disgusting bitch she is; licked and sucked and snuffled around as if she was starving and Barb's hole was breakfast. Which you could say it was. Barb hauled up on the nipple clamp chain with one hand while the other one worked at her clit as hard as it could, and I felt her come, felt her sphincter clamp around my tongue. I'd done it before, thorugh a dental dam, once when we were first dating, but now that we were partners I was able to get right into her most intimate orifice, up close and personal. You're insane, I told Titties. She ignored me and kept on licking. "Oh, baby!" Barb yelled as she came. "You win the contest! You are the best ass-licker in the lower 48! Oh, yeah!" She wiggled her buns on my face jsut a little longer for good measure, and then got off, wiping me considerately with a discarded towel. "Please, Mistress," I said around the towel. Get it over with now. "Titties wants to come. Please?" My clit throbbed so much that it hurt, and every time I moved the cocks in my lower holes slid a little further out, and I couldn't get them to go back in. Barb noticed that, and shoved them both back in with a jerk that made me gasp. "Please!" I moaned. I swear, Titties has no shame. "You're being awfully mouthy, Titties," she said with mock disapproval, even though I could almost feel her cunt clench as hard as my own. "Maybe I should get something to shut you up." "Oh, yes, Mistress." I sighed in relief. Barb dived over the edge of the bed again and came up with a third cock, a little smaller than the others. Fortunately. "Suck it, Titties," she said, moving the pillow under my head forward to my shoulders so that my head was tilted back slightly. I opened my mouth obediently, and she slid it in, slowly at first, letting me lick up and down the shaft showily and suck it. At the same time, she reached down and started to move the other two in and out of my ass and cunt, with the same slow rhythm. It drove me crazy. I tried to move my hips to speed up the thrusts, but she'd pull them out almost all the way and stop if I did that, so I moaned in frustration around the one in my mouth and matched my hips to her slow strokes. She speeded up, which was harder on my throat but heaven on my swollen crotch. She was gong to let me come this time. I caught a glimpse of her around the hand that held the cock I was deepthroating. Her eyes wer glazed, flicking back and forth from my face to my crotch, where both her hands were busy. She wouldn't need hands to come from watching me. You are one sick bitch, baby. Almost as sick as me, and I love you for it. "Cocksucker," she moaned, her chest heaving. "Cocksucking buttslut! Fuck that ass - yeah - fuck -" And then, as I came, I felt her thrusts become more erratic and she shoved the dildoes all the way in, all three holes at once. The molded balls on the one I was sucking slapped me in the face,a nd I held my breath, glad I had crested the peak before my air was cut off. My hips were still bucking and pulsing from the tingling waves that washed over me. Abruptly, she pulled them all out; mouth, cunt, asshole. She tossed them over the edge of the bed, where she would retrive them later and lovingly wash them, and gathered me in her aarms. The nipple clamps brushed her own chubby tits, and I cried out. Almost solicitously, she removed them, and held me through the long sob of pain. "I should have taken them off already," she chided herself, but her eyes were glinting with pleasure at seeing me yell. I know that look all too well. "I'll untie you in just a second," she said, stroking my hair. "No hurry," I mumbled into her shoulder. When she untied me, it'd be over. "No hurry at all, Mistress." Then I squinted up at her. "Next time I'm gonna make you suck my strap-on till your lips are bruised, and put clothespins on every inch of your body. You know that, don't you?" "Promises, promises," she said dismissively, but her eyes were dancing.