Pervy She-Cop: A Lesbian Awakening, with Enemas and Domination

Part Four: Mixed News and Mixed Company

It was late. Missy was paddling me in the bathroom when the knock came on the door. I had been polishing her boots with my tongue, and when I couldn't move my tongue in little circles any longer, I had tried to stop, but the job hadn't been done, and I had back-talked Missy when she told me to keep going. The punishment had been long and erotic with multiple parts, the best being her bare hand spanking me over her knee. Later, after the enema and some tit-slapping, she was spanking me again, this time with a paddle, with me on my hands and knees. We had planned to fuck exquisitely when we were done playing--she had convinced me to try to take her bigger dildo. But then in the middle of the paddling, with my ass thoroughly destroyed, a loud knock came through the thin walls.

"Stay here and lock the bathroom door," she said, putting on a bathrobe. I obeyed.

A few seconds later I heard indistinct talking and uproarious laughter from the main room of the little cabin. Finally, I heard footsteps coming to the bathroom door. Missy's voice said "you can come out, and don't bother putting on any clothes. My ex-girlfriend is here and wants to meet you."

My face immediately turned as red as my ass. I didn't want a stranger to see me, naked and paddled with no makeup on. Slowly, I turned the door handle until, with a finality and a suddenness that made my heart beat even faster, the clack of the door unlocking rang out.

I opened the door. Missy's bathrobe was nowhere in sight, and she had red lipstick stains on her cheek. She immediately took my arm in hers and we stepped somewhat haltingly out into the living room.

On the couch, in a beautiful long skirt and red blouse, was one of the most elegant women I'd ever seen. She was probably 35, with dark hair, very straight, gathered to one side and draped across her shoulder in a way that I'd never really seen before, at least not outside of movies. Her lips were red and her face was painted very pale. Antique glasses hung on a gold chain at her neck, and her hose were sheer black and very neat.

"So this is the teenage girl you've been sleeping with."

"Quite legal, you'll find," Missy said, in a voice I'd never heard. "And recovering admirably from her time with boys. Janie, turn around and let Mrs. Fink see the result of our little game."

I stammered something and turned around to show the fading but still visible marks of a severe paddling. I felt like I was going to die of embarassment.

"Oh, I used to paddle you so well, Melissa," the woman said.

I turned back around. "I... I.. I'm Janie. I paddled Melissa too once." Dammit, I thought. Where are your manners?

"She's a beast if she lets herself dominate," Missy said, putting her hands on my shoulders as if to hold me and show me off like a piece of art. Her warm hands felt good on me. "She fisted me earlier this week and almost got me to come in the first ten seconds."

"Well, Janie," the woman said, "I'm Beatrice Fink. I'm the Buskins family lawyer, which has been the best job of my career. When I met your partner when her father was on trial, she was a sullen ghost of a woman, still mourning her first love--ah, we had such times--what we call a conflict of interest in the business--and today she's this vivacious, dominating butch and I'm the pretty one wasting away to nothing. How's that for irony, eh, Melissa?"

Missy smiled and sighed.

Suddenly, Beatrice said something in a completely different tone, not unlike the one Missy uses when she's dominating me: "sit down, Melissa."

Missy sat and I kneeled with one knee between her feet, since my rear was too soar to sit.

"Missy, I'm sure you've already heard."

"Heard what?"

"Your father was executed last night at 12:05."

Missy seemed a little startled, but less by the news and more by the tone Beatrice delivered it in. "I had wondered when they were going to. Well, well. Did he suffer?"

"I think so. You still believe he was guilty."

"I know it, Bea."

"Well, I owe you an apology. He confessed while he was on death row. I wasn't allowed to tell you until now. You know that judge? I called him and made his fucking day. Don't say I never did nothing for a man."

"See? The heart knows these things." She made a face like she was spitting out something bitter. "You can't have driven all the way from Terre Haute?"

"Heavens, no. I flew directly by charter plane."

"Made of money now, are we?"

"My firm paid it. I am the executor of your father's estate, after all."

I looked from one to the other, my hands on Missy's knees. Both seemed quite uncomfortable.

"Was your father rich?" I asked, feeling like a little girl.

"Buskins Oil," Missy muttered, and looked to Beatrice. "I suppose there was restitution and legal fees."

"A drop in the bucket. His personal assets aren't what they were but you can expect a cool million or so after the Man gets his cut."

Missy looked very embarassed. "Can I expect you to stay on as my lawyer?"

"Of course."

"Take yourself a cool twenty thousand, as a gift from me. I'll sign whatever you need, just promise me you'll eat yourself a damn steak sometime. Now you have no excuse. Then get me an accountant, pay her well, and see that my mother is set for life. See that Susan's mother is set for life. We'll talk about what's left."

"Your mother got two thirds, I think she's all right."

"What about Josh?"

"Josh?" I asked.

"My brother," Missy muttered.

"Disinherited."

"Well by all means, let's get him some money then. But my instructions stand. Susan's mother must never want for anything again. He owed her that much. As for Janie here, I imagine we can do something about her education or something. Can't be my stay-at-home doxie forever, can you, my dear slut?"

I blushed. I had only quit my job a week ago to live with Missy. "No, Miss-miss-mistress."

"Well, there's no rush about it either. One of us should adopt the other to make it failsafe, in case I die."

"You give it long enough, you'll be able to get married," Beatrice said. "You know know that they're about to cure AIDS at that lab in Berlin--one hears these things in millionaire's drawing rooms--it might be a new era in the fight."

"The fight?" I asked.

"Gay liberation," they both said at once.

"Oh," I said, feeling very sheepish. "What does AIDS have to do with..." I trailed off. I remembered how my mother had talked about the gays (and lesbians, I suppose): this faceless horde of pedophiles, raping and pillaging and dying of some bizarre plague, threatening to take the whole land by force. I had known a few gay men, and obviously they weren't that in the slightest degree, but I understood that AIDS was something concrete, something for the public to latch onto. It was the mark that made them and all the heroin users--and somehow yes, even us--less than human. "Us:" that word felt strange. I realized in that moment that I would have to own the fact that I was... a gay woman?

"I think I understand," I said at last.

"Good," Missy said, caressing my head with her hands. "So what do a mall cop, a weed dealer and the world's highest-paid female lawyer have in common?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Hmm..." Beatrice smiled. "What?"

Missy said "that they all need to get in bed together, because it's late, cold, and a king bed sleeps three--and anyways, we have to celebrate. For once, Missy Buskins wins a little."

"Because your dad is..."

"Don't talk about it," Missy said, barely breaking her grin. "And they might cure AIDS!" she added.


We celebrated, though they never yet cured AIDS... I suppose there were those guys in Berlin and that guy in London recently... but regardless, we celebrated that night.

A king bed really does sleep three, but only in the sense that a twin can sleep two--they all have to be pretty static. But that wasn't what we meant. It's plenty of space for three to fuck, if they can figure it out.

The first order of business was that this lady lawyer had to get undressed, so Missy and I sat on the edge of the bed while she made a slow, slow show of taking off her pumps, her hose, the skirt with the zipper in the back, the blouse, and finally panties--she hadn't worn a bra or needed to.

Next this thin, graceful woman stepped close to me, almost a ballet motion, smooth and somewhat slow, and put a finger with a sharp, jet-black fake nail under my chin. It dug in a little and hurt. "You have a pretty face, Janie. Do you know how to use your mouth?"

"Uh-huh" was all I could manage.

"That'll be 'yes, mistress,' thank you very much." She released my chin and slapped me, not hard but not gently, across one cheek.

"Yes, mistress." I looked at Missy, who was beaming at us. Beatrice stepped back and Missy got up and threw me onto the bed. She winked at me. I made a face that told her I was ready for her--ready for both of them, but I didn't really know that at the time.

She got up on the foot of the bed, facing me, and sat with her legs spread. Then she grabbed one of my ankles and pushed that leg up. She pulled herself towards me and hooked one of her legs over my other leg, while guiding the first leg over her other leg. She pulled us together so that our pussies touched in a way I'd never felt before. "This is called scissoring. I hadn't thought to teach it to you before, but Beatrice reminded me--oh, god, we used to scissor."

Beatrice got up on the bed next to me, and got down on her hands and knees so that her face was close to mine. "You're a pretty little baby dyke, you know that? Do you think you'll be a butch or a femme? Neither? A little of both?"

I shrugged. Missy was already grinding hard down there.

"You like kissing big tough girls?"

I nodded.

"Do you like kissing pretty ladies?"

"I've never done it."

She kissed me. Oh, god, did I like it. When we really got into it, she held back with her tongue, just put it far enough to tease the bottom of the tip of my tongue with it, a tiny little "come on." For the first time in my life, I really gave a French kiss. I didn't take, I gave.

About that time Missy started messing with my clit as she ground and ground our pussies together. I don't know how she could manage both.

I don't know what came over me. I pulled Beatrice on top of me and wrapped my arms around her, my head on her shoulder. I must have crushed Missy's hand under Beatrice's body, because she stopped fingering me, but the stimulation of having this woman on top of me and this other woman entwined with me so intimately made me come almost immediately, hard. I was aware of a lot of liquid between our three bodies--I didn't know yet that my body could do that, but I had squirted all over.

Beatrice rose up, pressing her hands on my tits so that I was pressed down into the soft matress. "Get a towel. Now."

I worried I had done something wrong, so I extricated myself from Missy's legs and got up. By the time I had found a dry towel and got back to the bedroom, they had seemingly forgotten about the wetness on the bed. Missy had put on one of her harnesses with the big dildo in it, and was standing on the floor pounding Beatrice, who was on her back on the foot of the bed with her legs in the air, her ankles in Missy's fists. I dropped the towel.

"Join me," Beatrice said. "She's really good at this."

I thought for a second. "No, Bea, I think I'd like to fuck you too."

I went in the closet and figured out--it took me an uncomfortable amount of time and sweat--how to put on Missy's other harness. I had to adjust it well down on all the buckles, but I came out with a moderately big white dildo sticking straight out from my crotch, and walked over next to Missy, just as Beatrice's moaning reached a fever pitch. I kissed her on the cheek. She looked over at me, her golden hair flowing back over her shoulder as she turned her head. "Go harder than you'd want to get fucked yourself. Bea's a little hard to please," she said as she kept thrusting. In a few seconds, she pulled out. Bea feverishly put a hand on her pussy and messed with her clit. I stepped up and readied the plastic cock.

"Oh, come on, baby dyke," she said.

I pushed it in and she moaned again, though I felt like she was humoring me. A few seconds more, and she was no longer having to.

I had been fucked hard enough times to know the gist. I put my hands on her thighs where they were raised up in front of me, and pulled myself against her again and again.

Missy bent over close to her head and started messing with her clit. Pretty soon we were all wet again.

"Get a towel," I said. "Now."

She actually seemed impressed by that, and went to get the one I had dropped out of the door, just as soon as I pulled my dildo out of her.

"Probably need another one," Missy said, and Beatrice sighed and went to find one.

"Hey, come here," Missy said, as she loosened her harness and dropped it. She bent over the edge of the bed and started fingering her twat. Her big, beautiful thighs glistened with sweat and probably a little girl-cum.

"No, not there," she said as I put the wet rod between her engorged lips.

"In your butt, really?"

"Oh, be gentle, but yes. Try to go all the way in."

I pressed up against it, and suddenly the tip popped in. She gasped. "Further, further. I need you now, Janie."

A shadow appeared in front of us from the doorway behind. "Oh, for fuck's sake," Beatrice said.

It was probably about then that Missy came, without squirting but with the most beautiful noise I've ever heard a woman make.

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