Vanessa Carrington turned her red Audi onto the tree-lined boulevard – it was actually named the Boulevard – that ran along the beach front in Blue Water Harbor. It wasn’t the quickest route from her house to David and Jane Masters’ at the western end of the beach, but she had made a stop at the Post Office. She hadn’t needed to – not really – but it gave her an excuse to drive slowly along the beach front beneath the tall pines and admire the white sand and the sparkling blue water that gave the tiny hamlet its name.
Today her pleasure was tinged with regret. She had come here at the start of the summer with a mission, to investigate the rumors of unusual occurrences – public sex and public fights – in this little backwater to the north of San Francisco. She had discovered a lot about the town and its strange goings-on, but had discovered just as much about herself. She had also come to love this place and its people.
Now, summer was coming to an end, and so was her time in Blue Water. Just yesterday she had gotten an email from the faculty at Cal State, giving her the commencement dates for the fall semester and the deadlines for teaching plans. It was a few short weeks away. It was time for her and her husband Bill to return home.
Home – it sounded oddly hollow to her, and she didn’t need to wonder why. This summer, this place, these people, had changed her. Home wasn’t home any longer. Here – this was home. But she had responsibilities. She also had to learn a living. Her original plan to write a research paper about this place was in tatters. Who would believe her if she claimed that a shadowy group known as the Pride had moved into town and, by some means that Vanessa could only guess at – and those guesses went against every scientific instinct she possessed – had driven all the inhabitants to extremes of carnal excess? Professionally, the summer was a write-off, though personally it had been a sea change for her. Now however, she had to go back to being Professor Carrington.
Her circuitous route this morning was part of saying goodbye. There was a wistfulness to her smile as she drove past a slender blonde wandering along the sidewalk, naked except for a black lace bra and a pair of high heels. Her dress and panties dangled from her hand. Vanessa knew her name – Nikki Slater. It occurred to her that she knew almost everyone in town. Some were friends, many were casual acquaintances and there were even a few enemies, but she knew them all. She had become a part of this community and it had become a part of her.
She and Jane Masters had a lunch date today. That was when she’d tell Jane that she and Bill would be leaving soon. Jane was her closest friend here, and she deserved to be the first to know. Vanessa wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. Jane would be reassuring, of course. Jane would remind her that it was only a couple hours’ drive up from San Francisco, that she and Bill could come up for weekends, that they could stay with her and David.
All of that was true – but it wouldn’t be the same. Six months ago she would never have believed that the prospect of teaching about the peculiar psychology of human sexuality, of working among the clubs and sex workers of San Francisco, would seem mundane and uninteresting, yet that was how it felt to her now.
She turned left at the end of the street and passed between the tall stone pillars, without their gates now, that years ago had guarded the old mansions on the promontory at the north end of the beach. The Masters’ house was the first on the left, facing the beach – indeed it had its own private beach, just a few steps off the poolside patio. Many times Vanessa had jogged from here around the broad circumference of the bay to the rocks at the southern end, in company with her friends Leila, Morgan or Annie. Jane didn’t jog with them – with Jane’s bosom, jogging wasn’t a practical exercise.
There were a number of cars parked in the driveway and in the street outside. Parties at the Masters’ house were a frequent occurrence and even at other times, the house was a regular haunt for people who wanted a private – or at least semi-private – setting for their bacchanalian proclivities. Vanessa smiled.
One of the cars was her husband Bill’s white BMW. He and Jane’s husband David were going over some research – David was a surgeon, Bill a biochemist – and then they were planning to watch a ball game this afternoon.
She parked across the street – there was no house there, merely a grassy strip of ground sloping up to Morgan and Gary King’s house partway up the hill – and walked up the path to the Masters’ front door. She wore a sleeveless, emerald green dress that complimented her bob-cut Titian red hair. It hugged her rounded hips and came to mid-thigh, with a deep vee neckline that showed off the swell of her breasts. Her white four-inch stiletto sandals clicked a staccato rhythm on the red bricks.
It was a few minutes after she rang the bell that the right-hand panel of the broad double doors swung open and she found herself facing David Masters – tall, blonde-haired and smiling. “Vanessa! Come in.” He stood aside and ushered her through the doorway.
“Hi David!” She paused on the threshold to kiss him – he was just over six feet to Vanessa’s five feet three and even in heels she had to stretch – and their lips met lingeringly. His hand slid around her waist to cup and gently squeeze her left buttock. She gave a tiny moan of pleasure and encouragement – she had shared her body with Jane’s husband on numerous occasions, beginning the night they had met, and she had no qualms now. She felt her nipples harden and pressed herself upward firmly against his chest.
“Come on through,” he said when at last they broke the kiss. “Jane’s out back.”
Now that her eyes had accustomed themselves to relative dimness of the interior, Vanessa saw that they were not alone. Through an archway to her right was the living room and on the expansive fur rug in the center of that room were two women. One was a sturdily built blonde – Vanessa knew her as Dani, an acolyte of the Pride’s Pleasure Cult and a frequent visitor to the house. She was dressed in a print skirt and a black print top, or almost dressed since her top was lifted up to expose both her breasts. Her companion was Annie, another acolyte and a friend of Vanessa’s as well as Jane’s. She too was blonde and well-built though shorter and more petite than Dani. She knelt over the larger woman, her head bent, suckling hungrily on Dani’s left breast. One hand was buried beneath Dani’s skirt and the bigger blonde was squirming under her ministrations.
In the foyer where they stood, at the foot of the stairway leading up to the second floor, was a long white couch that was occupied now by a tangle of writhing humanity. A guy, dark haired, muscular and naked, sat on the near end. A slender brunette in her mid-twenties, equally naked, squatted astride him, facing Vanessa with his cock deep in her ass. Another man, his long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, leaned over her, arms braced on the back of the couch either side of the first guy’s shoulders, and shoved his own cock forcefully into her pussy.
Another girl – blonde-haired and of a similar age – lay stretched out along the remainder of the couch, one bare leg dangling on the floor and the other, with a red sandal dangling by one ankle strap, hooked up over the back rest. The guy on bottom had two fingers inside her and a third woman knelt astride her, fluffy red hair draped over the brunette’s hips as she licked at her loins. Her navy blue dress was pulled up around her waist, exposing her bare ass. A third man knelt at the far end of the couch, holding the redhead by the hips as he drove his shaft in and out of her while the blonde licked his balls. All of them were moaning loudly, oblivious to all but each other.
Vanessa grinned at David, and took a moment to go over to them. She kissed all three guys and the brunette – the other two women were entirely preoccupied – before she accompanied David, arm in arm, through the archway that led to the back of the house.
Here was a long, open plan room stretching across the entire back of the house with an expansive living area, a huge kitchen at the other and a formal dining room projecting out toward the beach. To Vanessa’s left, on the sectional sofa where Jane and Annie had seduced Vanessa on her first visit to this house, another young woman lay sprawled between two guys, honey-blonde hair strewn across the cushions, legs akimbo, her dress no more than a twist of fabric hiked up beneath her small bare breasts. A gold ring gleamed in her navel, and her splayed legs revealed another in her nether lips. All three were fast asleep. To the right, on a coffee table in the corner near the kitchen, two young women and an older one were playing with a long dildo held to the marble topped table with a suction cup, apparently vying to see who could take the toy deepest inside her.
Vanessa did not disturb them but followed David through the sliding doors that led out onto the patio. They rounded the enormous swimming pool and the Jacuzzi that could hold at least eight in comfort – Vanessa knew since she’d been in it with that many. Between the pool and the sand was a narrow strip of grass and on that grass was a gazebo – just a square of roof with no walls. Beneath its shelter was a broad day bed and on that day bed was Jane Masters. She wore a fluorescent yellow tank top – her favorite color – but she was naked below the waist. She knelt on the firm cushions as a dark-haired guy with a neatly trimmed goatee thrust into her from behind, doggie style. Two other women – Leila Deppiesse whose family owned the general store over near the beach, and Morgan King who was one of the Pleasure Cult’s inner circle and lived up the hill with her husband Gary – lay on their backs to either side of Jane. Both were lapping and sucking at Jane’s massive breasts.
Jane’s head hung between her shoulders but she looked up as Vanessa and David approached. “Hey…Vanessa,” she said with a smile, in a somewhat strained voice.
“Hi honey.” Vanessa bent over to kiss Jane. Their tongues dueled for a moment and she tasted her friend’s lust. Her hand trailed up Leila’s firm tummy – the raven-haired younger woman was fully dressed in workout gear – yoga pants and a sports bra, as was Morgan. Leila tensed her abs at the touch and gave a muffled, “Hey Vanessa!” from beneath Jane’s chest.
Vanessa straightened up to bestow another long kiss on the guy who was servicing Jane. “Hi honey.”
“Hi Baby.” Her husband Bill did not break his rhythm as he returned her kiss with fervor. He grinned. “Gonna join us?”
Vanessa grinned back. She could already feel David’s hands on her hips. She pressed backward a little and wriggled, rubbing her butt into his crotch. “Don’t mind if I do,” she replied as she bent over once more, licking at Jane’s parted lips, and let David lift her dress up. She was already bare underneath, and more than ready for him.
*****
It was more than ninety minutes later when Vanessa, feeling refreshed after a long communal shower upstairs with all five of the others and again fully dressed, accompanied Jane out front. “Do you mind driving, honey?” asked Jane, with a nod toward the driveway. “I’m still blocked in and I hate to disturb everyone.”
“Sure.” They climbed into Vanessa’s car. “Where are we heading?”
“I made a reservation at Waves,” replied Jane. She clipped her seatbelt into place and arranged the shoulder strap more comfortably across her jutting bosom. She wore dress jeans with a red belt, high heeled red ankle boots, a white linen shirt and a leather vest that matched the boots. Her dark curly hair lay loose across her shoulders and the upper slopes of her breasts.
Inarguably the best restaurant in town, Waves nested beneath the cliffs at the far end of the beach. They could have walked there – it was frequently the end point of Vanessa’s morning jog – but the day was already warming up and neither of them was dressed for walking. It took less than a few minutes in the car for them to retrace Vanessa’s earlier route and pull into the small parking lot behind the restaurant. From there it was no more than a few steps to the front door.
Waves was owned by Julian Cooke, half of Blue Water’s only, or at least only openly, gay couple. Julian and his partner Brad ran the restaurant and Vanessa expected to see one or other of them at the front desk but instead she was greeted by an unfamiliar yet distinguished-looking older man in a dark suit and an open-necked maroon shirt. It occurred to Vanessa that she had not been here for lunch before.
Jane obviously knew him. “Hi, Alan.”
“Hello Dr Masters.” Almost everyone Vanessa knew called Jane by her first name – this exception made her raise an eyebrow. He kissed Jane lightly on the cheek and turned to Vanessa. “And who’s this lovely lady?”
“This is my friend Vanessa Carrington.”
He bowed slightly and smiled. “Delighted to meet you.” He extended his hand but when Vanessa took it to shake, he bowed further and gently lifted it to his lips. “Please, follow me,” he said as her released his grip. “Your table’s ready.”
He led them past the bar that occupied almost all of one wall, to the far end of the restaurant where floor-to-ceiling windows gave a panoramic view along the beach and over the bay. It was early and there were only a few tables occupied – one by Cady Bradshaw, her son Brady and his girlfriend Ashlee, another by the Go family, who were a party of six, while at a third, in the corner near the windows sat Filomena Delarosa, who ran the florist’s store over in the Village, and her friend Samantha Phillips. Jane stopped to greet kiss Filomena and Sam, as did Vanessa who had met Filomena at one of Jane and David’s parties.
Vanessa assumed their host would seat them at another of the tables against the windows but he continued further, to the far corner and a set of double doors. He stopped, pushed the door open with one hand and stood aside before beckoning them through with the other.
Jane motioned to Vanessa. “After you, honey.”
Vanessa stepped into the room beyond – obviously a private dining room – and immediately stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened and she involuntarily turned to look over her shoulder at Jane, who placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s ok, honey.” She smiled. “Trust me.”
There was a single large, square table in the middle of the room, with enough room for someone to pass comfortably around it on all sides. There were seven chairs around the table, and five of those chairs were already occupied.
On Vanessa’s left, in the seat nearest the door, sat Lynda Sevrin, former supermodel turned fashion photographer. Tall, blonde and buxom, she was married to Sean Sevrin, historian and author. Both she and her husband were close friends of Jane and David Masters, and part of the Pleasure Cult’s inner circle. Vanessa too knew Lynda and her husband well – in the Biblical sense.
On the far side of the table sat Aisha Pashir, petite and dark-eyed, dressed in her usual all-white outfit that emphasized her copper colored skin and short, jet black hair. She was the undisputed leader of the Pride’s Power Cult, those who gained their pleasure from dominating – or being dominated by – others. Vanessa had felt the power of her dominance. It had been her first taste of what lay beneath the prurience in Blue Water. Brittany Beckett, one of Aisha’s followers, and her clique had had their way with Vanessa – at length –before gifting her to their Mistress. Vanessa still shuddered at the memory.
To Aisha’s right, as fair as she was dark, was Jenni Haversham, Aisha’s loyal lieutenant and lover. Tall and willowy, today she wore a charcoal grey sweater and her long blonde hair, pulled into a ponytail, hung over her right breast and down beneath the edge of the table. She looked almost coltish but Vanessa had seen her dominate women – physically and emotionally – far larger than herself.
To Vanessa’s right, with her back to the windows, was Monique Morgaine. The statuesque, elegant blonde French woman was clad in black from head to toe. Monique was queen of the Pain Cult, the faction within the Pride who held the secret of transmuting pain into a dark, twisted pleasure, and who could dish that pleasure out to those who desired it as well as those who did not. Vanessa did not understand that talent but she had felt its power too. Her hand strayed involuntarily to her middle, to the point beneath her dress where a tiny gold ring nestled in her navel, a memento of the night when Monique had defeated her in ritualized combat and had marked her as was the Pain Cult’s custom. Vanessa didn’t need to keep the ring, but she had chosen to do so as a reminder of that night. She still wasn’t sure why.
On Monique’s right sat a diminutive figure, dressed like Monique, all in black. This was the closest Vanessa had come to Angelina Suarez, Monique’s girlfriend and the most fanatical of the Pain Cult’s followers. She looked thin to the point of frailty, with a boyish figure and long black hair that hung straight in a curtain down her back. It shone in the light but somehow seemed thin like the rest of her. Despite her waifish appearance, Angelina had an unsurpassed reputation for cruelty. It was said she only ever smiled when she was hurting someone. Right now she glowered at Vanessa and stared daggers at Jane. Their hatred for one another was well known throughout Blue Water.
Aisha was the first to speak. “Come in, Professor,” she said with a smile. “Have a seat.” She indicated the side of the table closest to the door, where there was only a single chair. With a sideways glance at Jane, Vanessa sat down. Jane walked around Lynda and took the remaining vacant chair.
Vanessa didn’t know what to do or say. From everything she had heard – everything she had learned – the three cults were mortal enemies. She knew from first-hand accounts that Aisha had once tried to kill Lynda, and that Lynda had almost succeeded in killing Aisha in return, though certainly in self-defense. Monique had once tried to kill Jane though of course she had failed and had confessed to Vanessa that she regretted the attempt and would never repeat it. “We are opposing forces that must remain in balance,” Monique had told her. “We wish to destroy one another, but it cannot be. The balance must be maintained.” That didn’t make them friends though – yet here they were, gathered around a table, breaking bread.
Before she could think any further on the subject, a waitress arrived – a petite Chinese girl whom Vanessa knew, albeit slightly, as Libby Yang – to take drink orders from her and Jane. Vanessa wondered if she should risk drinking something alcoholic in this company but the others were drinking, even Jane, so she ordered a glass of white wine anyway. She had a feeling she might need it before the meal was over.
Appetizers arrived – bruschetta, antipasto and deep fried calamari in a delicious marinara sauce – and were passed around amid innocuous smalltalk and town gossip. This being Blue Water however, the gossip was mostly about who was fucking – and being fucked by – whom. Vanessa was both amazed and enthralled. The three cults were sworn enemies but here were their leaders talking like nothing untoward had ever happened between them. There were a few guarded glances and some carefully chosen words, but no open enmity.
Only Angelina did not join in. She ate her food, drank her wine and passed plates around in sullen silence. Vanessa knew there was history not just with Jane but also between her and Aisha who sat to her left. They had been lovers once, before Lynda had defeated Aisha, before Angelina had left Aisha for Monique. Or had it been that simple? Vanessa had no real knowledge of what had transpired between them – she had simply surmised. Angelina’s dark glares were not reserved for Aisha however. She looked likewise at everyone with the exception of Monique.
Vanessa listened a lot and said very little. Her mind still raced. What was going on here? Why had Jane brought her to what was obviously an arranged meeting? Her presence here was no incidental thing either – even the arrangement of the chairs, with her sitting alone on one side of the table, made her a focal point of the gathering. She was reminded of the prospectus committee from her doctoral dissertation – it certainly felt like a tribunal. [i]Why?[/i]
After the main courses had been and gone – Vanessa had an excellent blackened tuna steak – it was Aisha who eventually broached the true subject of the meeting. “So, Vanessa…I suppose you’re wondering why we brought you here.”
It occurred to Vanessa that this was possibly the first time Aisha had ever called her by her first name. Usually it was ‘Doctor’ or ‘Professor’ – even on the two occasions when Vanessa had knelt naked before her. She glanced at Jane again and smiled somewhat uncertainly. “Yes, I am.”
“We hear it’s almost time for you to leave us and head back to Cal State,” interjected Monique.
Vanessa’s brows knitted a little. Nobody knew that yet except Bill, and she knew for certain that he would not have revealed it to anyone. She simply nodded however. “I was planning to tell Jane over lunch,” she replied. “I wanted her to be the first to know.” She frowned again as she looked once more at Jane. “How did you know?”
“There’s no magic to it, honey,” Jane smiled back at her. “We all know what your field is – why you came here – and we can all read a calendar.”
“When do you need to be back there?” Aisha spoke up again.
Vanessa shrugged. “There’s prep work to do and some of that I can do remotely from here, but…, well, two weeks at the outside.”
There was a pause at that. Jane, Aisha and Monique all looked at one another. The other three looked at each of them. Finally Jane spoke. “Are you glad to be going home?”
Again Vanessa was at a loss for words. Eventually she replied with, “I have lectures to prepare…students to teach…work to do.”
Monique smiled. “That’s not an answer.”
They were all looking at Vanessa expectantly. She took another long moment. “I’ll miss this place,” she said, voicing the thought that had been central in her mind for the past several days.
There were more meaningful looks around the table before Aisha continued. “You know about Felix University.”
“Of course.” Felix University was a small private college owned by the Pride through its private holding company known as the Felix Foundation. Located in the mountains of Colorado, reclusive and exclusive, it catered to members and followers of the Pride and their families. It was a considerable distance from Blue Water but a few of the residents taught or worked there, at least part time. Lynda’s husband Sean was one – he taught history and commuted back and forth from the small airport in the nearby town of San Vicente.
“They’re…we’re…in need of a Professor of Psychology,” said Jane.
Vanessa’s eyes widened as the penny dropped. She had never even considered the possibility of a position at Felix, though she and Sean Sevrin had talked on numerous occasions about the school and its aspirations – though as usual in conversations about the Pride’s affairs, Sean had been exasperatingly circumspect. “Me?”
“Why not?” asked Lynda.
For some reason, her mind immediately jumped to reasons [i]why not[/i]. “But…” she stammered, looking for a reason but at the same time at a loss to think of one. “What about our apartment in the city?” she finally asked lamely.
“Honey, you’ll rent that apartment in a microsecond,” answered Jane dismissively. She laughed. “Or some hipster tech startup entrepreneur will buy it off you and you’ll make a massive profit.”
“But…” repeated Vanessa. She couldn’t think why she was searching her mind for objections. “What about the department at Cal State? It’s only a few weeks to the start of the semester. They’d never be able to find a replacement in time.”
“That won’t be a problem,” replied Monique. “A donation to the Faculty Association…” She smiled. “…a sizable donation…will smooth any ruffled feathers.”
Vanessa looked around the table, nonplussed. They seemed to have it all figured out. Everything they said made sense, but she had never had such an opportunity drop into her lap before. She wondered why she was wracking her brain for some valid objection.
“Let’s put an end to this debate,” said Aisha with a smile. She took a folded slip of paper from the sleeve of her white linen jacket and slid it across the table to Vanessa.
Vanessa picked it up, opened it, and her eyebrows climbed up all the way to her hairline. “For a small private college?” she asked. The figure on the paper was easily twenty five percent more than she was making at Cal State. “Are you serious?”
“We wouldn’t be making the offer if we weren’t, honey,” Jane assured her.
“We want what we want,” agreed Aisha, “and we’re willing to pay for it.”
“And we want you,” added Monique. The way she said it made the hairs rise on the back of Vanessa’s neck.
Vanessa felt she had finally gotten to the crux of her questions as she asked, “But…why.”
They all smiled but it was Monique who replied. “You’ve impressed us, Doctor Vanessa Carrington. Not just us, here around this table, but all of us. You came here to do a particular task and you found something very different from what you expected. Most people would have tried hard to make reality fit their view…but you didn’t. Instead you kept an open mind and listened.”
“You probed,” added Jane, “but you didn’t pry. We know you have lots of unanswered questions but you didn’t push us too hard to get the answers you wanted.”
“We respect you for that,” said Jenni.
“There are a lot of secrets here,” Jane went on. “Many of them, nobody would ever believe if you told them.” Vanessa smiled at that. “We know you suspect some things, and we know some of those suspicions…well, that they don’t sit well in a scientific mind.” She grinned. “But we also know that science…conventional science, anyway…doesn’t explain everything.” Before Vanessa could say anything she continued, “A long time ago I told you that some things require time and trust.” She smiled around her at the others. “We think it’s time for us to start trusting you.”
“Not with everything…not at once,” interjected Jenni.
“True,” agreed Aisha. “For your own sake as well as ours. Teaching at Felix…living here among us…will give you a lot of answers. There will be more, in time.”
“And there’s one other thing,” added Lynda.
Vanessa looked at her questioningly. Wasn’t all this enough?
Jane nodded. “The job doesn’t just entail teaching. It will also mean some writing.”
“Writing?”
“We want you to write our history…the complete history, the history of the Pride…for future generations.”
“As I told you when we first met,” said Monique, “we’ve made many mistakes…learned many lessons. We don’t want those lessons to be lost.”
Vanessa was reeling. This was the opportunity she had longed for – the chance to learn the whole truth about what was behind Blue Water. More specifically – since she already knew the Pride was behind Blue Water – this was her chance to learn what was behind the Pride. She suspected, as she grown to do over the past few months, that the truth could never be told publicly, but that was the price she knew she had to pay. Silence, in return for truth.
“Okay,” she said.
*****
It took another half hour, over dessert and coffee, to work out the details. Vanessa would accompany Sean and Lynda Sevrin when they flew to Colorado the following week, to visit and tour the Felix campus. The house that she and Bill had rented for the summer would remain available as long as they needed it, and they could even buy it if they wanted. Vanessa would, of course, talk to Bill about his job and viability of commuting or working from home but she knew he would agree – he had already said on multiple occasions that the lab he had set up in the basement was as good as anything he had at the office.
It seemed to Vanessa that almost every detail had already been ironed out. It occurred to her that perhaps she ought to feel affronted. They had clearly anticipated her acceptance and made numerous arrangements in advance. All she could find to feel however, was elated – elated and flattered. She was being admitted to the inner circle – as an observer and chronicler, to be sure, but admitted nonetheless.
Vanessa noticed that the restaurant was more crowded than before as she followed Jane back toward the front door with the others following behind, but she paid little attention to the diners, her mind filled with the possibilities this new direction offered her. It was not until she suddenly stumbled and almost fell as she passed the bar, that she turned her attention to what had tripped her.
Brittany Beckett sat perched on a bar stool, one leg still outstretched where she had extended it to hook Vanessa’s ankle. Her dark brown hair fell across her bare, tanned shoulders – she was scantily dressed in a fluorescent yellow, strapless crop top that hugged her small round breasts and ended above her navel, and a denim mini-skirt. Her erect nipples showed through the top and her eyes were alight with cruel amusement as they bored into Vanessa. “Look what the cat dragged in…and I’m just in mood for a slice of subbie.” The last word dripped with scorn and menace.
Vanessa stared back at the woman who’d given her her first rude introduction to the culture of Blue Water. Brittany had attacked and beaten an unwitting and unprepared Vanessa, and then she and her friends – three of whom were sitting at the bar alongside her now – had used Vanessa as their plaything for the night before delivering her as a gift to Aisha in the morning. That incident had almost driven Vanessa back to San Francisco in shame but after talking with Aisha and a number of others, she had changed her mind and stayed in town. She had never regretted that decision.
She wasn’t about to let Brittany make her regret it now. Jane was looking at her expectantly, a few steps away. Her friend was no doubt thinking about the long hours she had trained over the summer with Jane, Leila and Annie, learning, practicing and honing her fighting skills. She looked the other way, to where Lynda, Aisha and Jenni, Monique and Angelina stood watching. Brittany was Aisha’s acolyte but the Power Cult’s leader caught Vanessa eye and nodded slightly. She mouthed the words, “It’s time.”
Brittany slid off her stool and stood between Vanessa and Jane, blocking Vanessa’s path. Vanessa turned to face her. “Get out of my way, Brittany.”
The other woman sneered, “Make me.”
Vanessa didn’t hesitate. Her fist hammered Brittany’s jaw before her enemy saw her move. Brittany reeled to her right and sprawled across the bar stool she had just vacated. One outflung arm clutched at the edge of the bar, while the other caught one of her friends – a girl named Patti, who had been one of the gang that had violated Vanessa – across the face.
As Brittany struggled to stand, Vanessa leapt at her, grabbing for her hair with both hands, intending to drag her adversary off the bar and fling her across the nearest table. Brittany put paid to that intent however, when her foot arced up between Vanessa’s legs in a savage kick aimed at the redhead’s crotch. Luckily for Vanessa, she was twisted sideways just enough that her enemy’s foot caught her inner thigh. Nevertheless, she gave a grunt of pain, broke off her attack and backed away out of range.
Brittany reached her feet and stepped away from the bar into open space. “Nice try, bitch,” she hissed, “but I’ll pay you back for that…wait and see.”
Vanessa glared back at her with equal animosity. Violence wasn’t something she was used to – or that she welcomed – but she knew the culture here and she knew people like Brittany. She had known this moment would come, either with Brittany or somebody else. She had trained for it all summer. “Oh it’s payback time,” she agreed in a low, menacing voice, “for you.”
Brittany snarled and leapt forward. She had already kicked off her shoes and she moved fast. Her fist speared out toward Vanessa’s jaw in a repeat of the blow Vanessa had struck moments before. As Vanessa ducked her head sideways and raised her guard to parry the punch, the brunette pulled her arm back – it was merely a feint – and instead her other fist thudded into Vanessa’s midriff just below her ribs. “UFFF!!!” The air shot out of her lungs and she back-pedaled once again. Her enemy was smaller than her, shorter and more slightly built, but she was as strong and wiry as she was vicious. Vanessa had a sudden, disturbing thought. [i]All that training – will it be enough?[/i]
She kicked her shoes away, gaining some agility, and dropped one arm to protect her belly as she circled to the left, away from the table behind her. Brittany lunged at her again but Vanessa dodged the right hook aimed at her head and her own right arm swept down to deflect the next knee Brittany launched at her. As the brunette’s momentum carried her past, Vanessa’s elbow slammed into her lower back and it was Brittany’s turn to utter an explosive grunt of pain. “GUUHHH!!!” She pitched forward several steps and fetched up against a table. The occupants, a couple in their twenties, grabbed at their glasses to prevent them tipping over.
Her confidence buoyed somewhat by her successful counterattack, Vanessa spun on the ball of her foot and threw herself after Brittany, arms out to grab her adversary by the hair as she sprawled, bent over, across the table. Brittany anticipated her move however and kicked out blindly behind her, thwarting that avenue of attack. Vanessa avoided the kick by twisting her body to the left and quickly changed tactics, wrapping her left arm around Vanessa’s ankle and trapping it against her body. She stepped forward, hooked her other arm under the brunette’s thigh and heaved upwards.
Brittany let out a shriek that was equal parts surprise, frustration and anger as Vanessa jerked her upwards and backwards, off the table. Her free leg was not enough to maintain her balance as the redhead hauled even harder, and she crashed to the floor. She managed to get her arms out to help brace herself but still her chest slammed heavily into the hardwood floor.
The sudden violence of Brittany’s fall surprised Vanessa and dragged her down to the floor along with her enemy. She had the presence of mind to cock her knee in front of her however and was rewarded with a scream of agony as it slammed into the brunette’s lower back, almost where her elbow had struck before.
Her blow was not well aimed however, the angle awkward and her knee skidded off the brunette’s back rather than pinning her like a bug as Vanessa had hoped. The brunette shoved herself up with one arm while the other whipped back and her elbow slammed into Vanessa’s chest, crushing her left breast against her ribs. “UNNNGGGHHH!!!” Vanessa went over on her back.
In a flash Brittany was on her, twisting like a snake, leaping on her, getting her legs astride Vanessa’s waist and pinning her down as Vanessa had hoped to do to her foe. Brittany’s claws stabbed into her hair, shaking her head savagely from side to side. Pain lanced through her scalp and her neck as the brunette snarled, “I’ll break you all over again, skank!”
Panic joined the pain as Vanessa tried desperately to fight her enemy off her. The thought of losing, the thought of suffering the same humiliation as before – possibly publicly this time – filled her with horror. But it also filled her with determination. Through tears of pain she realized Brittany’s arms were up and her body exposed. Abandoning her attempts to tear the brunette’s hands out of her hair, she lashed out with both arms, hooked her fingers into the upper edge of her enemy’s top and jerked Brittany forward with all her might, twisting to her left as she did.
Her hands occupied, Brittany was unable to deflect the attack and the force of it jerked the strapless top down around her waist. Her small but shapely breasts bounced free. Nor was she able to brace herself as she fell forward and she hit the floor with a loud thud on Vanessa’s left side. Brittany managed to tuck her side to the side and avoiding smashing her skull into the floor, but the impact still stunned her for a moment.
Vanessa made good use of that moment. Rolling rapidly onto her side, she sent a knee ramming up into Brittany’s lower belly. An explosion of air and spittle erupted from the brunette’s open mouth and her grip on Vanessa’s hair slackened.
Every instinct told Vanessa to roll away, to put some distance between herself and Brittany, to give herself time to recover – but Vanessa was sick of retreating. Her instincts didn’t apply here – to thrive and even to survive in this place with any kind of dignity, she needed to develop new instincts. She grabbed her enemy’s hair in both hands, threw a leg over Brittany and rolled up to her knees, straddling the wildly bucking brunette.
“This time it’s YOUR turn!” she roared with a vehemence that surprised her. She jerked Brittany’s head viciously, first one way then the other. Keeping a hold on her adversary with one hand, she delivered a series of stinging slaps, forehand and backhand, across the other woman’s face with the other. Brittany’s bullying ways had incensed her ever since that first degrading encounter and now she channeled that anger into a single-minded determination. [i]You’re going down, cunt![/i]
Now it was Brittany’s who was frantically fighting off Vanessa’s assault. She flailed her arms and managed to deflect some of the slaps that Vanessa rained down on her, but many got through and the brunette’s gasps of pain turned into grunts, then to groans as she took more and more punishment.
Brittany’s defenses weren’t entirely ineffective however. As the adrenalin grew in Vanessa and turned her onslaught into something bordering on frenzy, her blows grew less measured, less coordinated and Brittany began to block more successfully. Vanessa sent a particularly energetic backhander at the brunette’s swollen cheek, but Brittany deflected the blow and the power of Vanessa’s lunge sent her swaying to her right. Brittany bucked beneath her and their combined momentum sent the redhead sprawling to the floor on her side.
With a violent effort she suppressed the new panic that welled up with her and kept rolling, coming up onto her knees, twisting her body so she faced her foe. Her dress had ridden up around her waist and she was bare beneath it, but she scarcely noticed and cared even less. She tossed her head, flipped her hair out of her eyes and was somewhat surprised to see that Brittany, instead of exploiting her advantage and going on the offensive, had rolled in the opposite direction and was clambering to her feet with her back to Vanessa.
Vanessa sprang off her knees, crossed the space between them in two leaping strides and slammed to Brittany from behind. Her charge drove the other woman forward, between two vacant stools to slam into the bar. The unyielding edge caught her across her chest and she folded forward across the bar top, her bare breasts squashed against it.
The brunette tried to kick out behind her but Vanessa was too close for the kick to have any effect. Still keeping her body pressed against Brittany’s back, trapping her enemy against the bar, she reached up and twisted both hands into the other woman’s tangled hair. Only when she had a solid grip did she shove herself backwards, dragging the shrieking, cursing Brittany with her.
She hurled Brittany backwards onto the same table as before. Brittany took the edge this time across her lower back and she wailed in agony as her shoulders slammed down on the white-clothed table top, this time sending glasses flying. There was a loud crash as they shattered on the floor on the far side of the table. The table’s occupants flung themselves out of the way.
Vanessa lifted herself up high on her toes, her clenched fist raised even higher, above her shoulder ready to bring it down and bury it in the brunette’s belly. As she began her descent with her full body weight behind it, she saw Brittany’s knee arc upward toward her own midriff. She saw it coming and twisted her body desperately to the side but, committed to her own attack, she could not avoid it completely.
The redhead’s fist sank deep into Brittany’s belly at the same instant the brunette’s knee drove upward into her own. The sprays of spittle from their explosive exhalations mingled in mid-air. Brittany’s head and feet whipped up into the air as her body jack-knifed, bending almost double. “UUUNNGGGHHH!!!” Her grunt trailed off into a strangled gasp.
Vanessa slumped forward over the table, her elbow crushing a half-eaten bread roll. Her belly was on fire. The pain seemed to seep deep into her insides and linger there, making her dizzy and nauseous. Her legs buckled and she slid to the floor on her knees, clutching at the table for support, fearful of falling on her face, terrified of what Brittany might do if she regained her feet.
Brittany had pressing problems of her own however. Curled into a ball, clutching her own middle, she rolled sideways and toppled off the table, landing hard with a new groan of agony. She grabbed for a table leg, trying to haul herself up, hair spread across her face. Her loud grunts betrayed the effort and pain it cost her just to move, but she was making progress. Fear made Vanessa redouble her own efforts to fight through her pain and get to her feet.
Glaring balefully at one another, they each clawed their way up to their knees, faces tight with pain and grim resolve, eyes ablaze with hate. Vanessa brought a foot under her and grabbed the table tighter to heave herself to her feet. She saw Brittany do the same which spurred her to greater speed and strength.
She didn’t know what happened – perhaps her haste made her stumble, or perhaps she simply trusted too much to her flagging strength – but her knee collapsed and she fell back to the floor again with a cry of anguish. Brittany snarled in triumph. “Too bad, bitch!” she snarled as she gained her feet and lunged for Vanessa.
Vanessa saw her enemy bring her knee back, saw it swing forward and upward, arcing inexorably toward her chin. She knew with certainty that the blow would finish her, hurl her over onto her back, stretch her out on the floor, dazed and helpless if she even remained conscious. She knew with equal certainty, even as she fought the pain and fatigue in her muscles to sway herself backwards, that there was nothing she could do to avoid it.
But avoid it she did. Maybe Brittany’s own exhaustion slowed her down, maybe the barrage of blows she had taken to the head had disrupted her coordination – maybe Vanessa was simply lucky – but the brunette’s knee flew upward past Vanessa’s nose, so close she could feel the wind as it passed. A surge of relief shot through her and along with that relief came hope – and renewed adrenalin.
With a roar she came up off her knees, using all the remaining strength of her legs and combining that with the vice-like grip of her hands on the table’s edge to power to her feet. Brittany was off balance with her leg raised high from the force of her failed [i]coup de grace[/i] and Vanessa’s shoulder drove into the underside of her right leg just below her butt. The impact literally lifted Brittany off her feet and sent her arcing through the air to slam down on her back with a force that made the brunette’s entire body stiffen for a moment before she shuddered reflexively and went limp.
That lasted only a moment however and, moaning, Brittany shoved herself up onto her elbows. Vanessa’s momentary triumph was once again replaced with the fear that her enemy would came back at her. [i]What does it take to keep this bitch down?[/i] She leapt forward with a strength she did not know she possessed, and her bare foot stomped hard into the middle of Brittany’s chest, slamming the brunette back into the floor. Brittany groaned and her arms and legs moved feebly, but she did not make any concerted effort to rise again.
Vanessa didn’t stop there however. She had to make sure of her victory. She’d seen how resilient Brittany was, knew what mercy, even now, might cost her. She darted forward, seized the barely struggling Brittany by her hair and, standing astride the brunette, dragged her halfway up to a sitting position before sending her back to the floor again with a backfist to the temple. Again she bent and grabbed her battered adversary, from behind this time and hauled her up to her feet. Brittany slumped in her grasp and would have fallen but for Vanessa’s hold on her. With a growl, Vanessa, threw her face-down across the table where she lay unmoving.
Chest heaving with exertion, bathed in sweat, Vanessa stood panting with every muscle still tensed, sensing that victory was hers but not really believing it – not yet – and wondering what to do now. A small, civilized part of her wanted to end it here, to stumble back to the car, go back to Jane’s house and soak her aching muscles in the hot tub, leaving Brittany to others to deal with as they liked. Another voice in her head however, told her she couldn’t leave it here. She was about to embroil herself in the middle of this bizarre subculture – whatever it was – and she would need to deal from a position of strength, to earn respect and, if necessary, fear. Yet another part simply wanted vengeance for what this bitch and her friends had done to her, back at the start of the summer. She wasn’t sure she felt good about herself for wanting that, but want it she did.
Jenni Haversham settled the matter by reaching into her purse, stepping forward and dropping a black latex dildo – long, thick and with attached straps – on the table beside the semi-comatose Brittany. “There you go, Professor,” she grinned. “You can give it back when you’re done.”
The first sketch of a plan began to form in Vanessa’s mind as she secured the strap-on at her hips, the gleaming black dildo bouncing as she moved. It had to be twelve inches long and her hand could scarcely close around the shaft. She grabbed Brittany by her ponytail with her free hand to hold her vanquished enemy in place. Brittany’s skirt had ridden up just as Vanessa’s had done. Vanessa spread the brunette’s engorged nether lips and rammed the strap-on inside her until her buttocks smacked against Vanessa’s hips.
The penetration brought Brittany out of her stupor. She bucked and wailed piteously. [i]Right. I’ll give you the same mercy you gave to me, you cunt.[/i] She slid the dildo out of Brittany’s wide-stretched pussy and Brittany whimpered. Vanessa repositioned herself slightly and shoved it into the puckered rosette of her enemy’s anus. The whimper turned into a scream.
Vanessa dragged Brittany up off the table, controlling her with one hand twisted in her ponytail and the dildo buried deep in her ass. “Now…let’s start by making amends to these people whose lunch you just ruined.” She looked at the couple who had been dining at the table – first the woman, a slender blonde, then her companion, a well-muscled young man with dark curly hair. “Unzip,” she told him, and he did so without hesitation. His cock sprang to attention and Vanessa immediately impaled Brittany’s throat with it.
By the time Vanessa had walked Brittany around the room, the brunette was stumbling and sobbing. She had collapsed once, throwing up a puddle of jism on the floor. She had serviced most of the diners in the restaurant, including her own three companions, none of whom showed the least hesitation in defiling the brunette. One pair of women had taken matters into their own hands by the time Vanessa had steered her enemy around to them, and Vanessa didn’t disturb them. When Vanessa half-dragged Brittany back to the bar, her face and chest were glazed with cum, pussy juice and her own drool. Her eyes were equally glazed, her makeup smeared and streaked with tears. She seemed like she was in shock. Vanessa knew exactly what that felt like.
Jane was leaning against the bar, gazing at her with a Mona Lisa smile on her face. Aisha and Jenni were perched on bar stools. Jenni was grinning from ear to ear and Aisha’s eyes gleamed. Vanessa understood from that look that while Brittany might be one of her followers, she was certainly no favorite. Vanessa considered throwing the beaten brunette down at Aisha’s feet and leaving her to her Mistress’s peculiar talents, but that kind of gesture – “here, have your bitch back” – might be interpreted as an insult. That was something she didn’t want.
Then an idea occurred to her. Monique had taken a seat at the bar too, a few stools away from Aisha and Jenni, with Angelina at her side. Vanessa hauled the weeping, wretched Brittany over to them, and kicked the brunette in the back of the knee. Brittany collapsed at their feet. She turned her eyes first to Monique, but when she spoke it was to her companion. “I think you might find a use for this,” she said with a nod to the broken brunette.
The merest hint of a smile played around the corners of Angelina’s mouth. “I think I might,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you.”
Vanessa nodded. Without another word she turned away, released herself from the strap-on and wriggled her dress down into place. The green fabric was stained dark with Brittany’s juices. Vanessa didn’t care. She found her shoes and walked unsteadily over to join Jane.
As they turned to leave, Aisha called out. “Oh…Vanessa?”
Vanessa looked over her shoulder.
“Welcome home.”
THE END
The End
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