The Last Incubus Ch. 31

The Last Incubus: Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Frankie and Bailie share a heart to heart.

"But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." ~ Luke 6 vv. 27-28.

Note to readers: There are a couple of references to non-consensual sex near the end of this chapter. All characters were over the age of 18.

*****

(Ross)

The cold air helped me clear my head on my walk back to Tina's house. The gusts of frigid air blowing in my face were the same bitter cold winds I experienced the first night I arrived in Bangor, only now I found them to be the perfect distraction to put my unexpected encounter with Marge into perspective. After all, an enthrallment was the last thing I expected to do today, and certainly not with Marge.

Of all the changes I've had to accept in becoming an incubus, enthrallment had been the most difficult. At least with my body changes, there was nothing I could do to stop myself from transforming; my physical appearance and demonic powers occurred whether I wanted them or not. I couldn't even refrain from sex to stop it from happening. But unlike physical changes, enthralling another human being wasn't compulsory, it was something that required a conscious decision on my part. No one forced me to enthrall Frankie--I chose to do it; and I could only do that by accepting myself as an incubus.

But to enthrall Marge, I needed to go beyond acceptance, I needed to embrace my demonic nature as a matter of survival. Otherwise, she would have pulled me into her own dark web and forced me to do far more unspeakable evils to the people I cared about. However unintentional her motives were, my demon-nature was grateful to her for forcing a closer reliance with my human side. Those many generous "gifts" we gave her was a token of that gratitude, but at the same time we still couldn't forgive her for her threats and betrayals. That's why I hadn't bothered to correct her for calling me 'Master.' She deserved to grovel for a while.

The irony of my inability to completely forgive Marge wasn't lost on me. Forgiveness was a virtue that had been drilled into me since my childhood by my religious parents. The ability to completely forgive someone made my life simple and uncomplicated. That all changed when I embraced my demonic nature and I saw how naïve that was. By making Marge my thrall, she would never be able to betray me or my friends again, and my forgiveness for attempting to manipulate me would come at a price--with interest.

Something cold brushed against my cheek. A snowflake. It brought me out of my head, and I looked around. It was beginning to snow--again. But something was off, and it took me a few seconds to realize what it was. Growing up, snow falling at night was only visible when it passed under a streetlight or the headlamps of a car. It seemed almost magical. But with my demonic ability to see in the dark, that magic was gone. Snow falling at night looked the same as it looked in daylight. It was another reminder of the ironies and contradictions of my life as a demon.

Speaking of ironies and contradictions, a second thrall meant another voice inside my head. When I first morphed into demon form, Frankie's thoughts came in loud and clear. But the intensity of her thoughts was slightly muted when Marge's enthrallment was completed, and I sensed her thoughts along with Frankie's at equal loudness. Apparently, telepathic communication had a maximum volume intensity, which appeared to be divided equally between the two thralls. Maybe with additional thralls, each individual thought-voice would be that much quieter, not that I was interested in adding more voices in my head. The voices and images Frankie and Marge were sending me were distracting enough.

It was just after 11:30 when I arrived at Tina's house. The lights in the living room were all on, minus the sound of loud music and dancing that was there last night. 'Thank God for that,' I thought.

Inside, I found Bailie sitting on the couch, reading. She turned her head when she heard me come in.

"Oh hi, you're back. Is everything alright with your friend?" she asked.

Bailie had been studying in the library when I received Marge's texts. When my shift was over, I told her I had to help 'a friend' before I hastily ran out the door.

"Yes, but it took a lot longer than I expected. I'm sorry I couldn't walk you home," I replied.

"That's sweet of you, but like I said, I can handle myself. I made it back safe and sound, see?"

I walked around to the front of the couch and that's when I saw what she was wearing. It was the same sheer, baby doll nightie that she had on last night. I could clearly see the curve of her breasts and the two tented points over the darker circles from where her nipples and areolas stood out against the gauzy material. It was hard to keep my eyes from wandering back to take another look.

"Wow, you look amaz--um, I thought you said you were embarrassed to wear that nightie because it was so revealing," I noted, after recalling the conversation we had at lunchtime.

She smiled shyly. "This is the only thing I have to sleep in. Everything else is still at my stepfather's apartment, and I don't feel safe going back there to get them. Besides, wearing this is more than everyone else seems to be wearing around here. Tina is naked upstairs, and this morning you were--"

"Hey, you know that wasn't my idea. Tina took all my clothes."

"My point is that I'm already wearing more now than the two of you put together. Besides, I like the way it feels on me."

Bailie's usual golden yellow aura took on a brighter, lustier, creamy white appearance, suggesting the nightie's comfort wasn't the only feeling it gave her. I couldn't resist teasing her about it.

"Gee, it's a shame you're stuck having to wear that flimsy outfit. I'll just have to try and picture you with more clothes on," I smirked.

Her aura flared as the outline of her nipples grew more pronounced. I'm sure she caught me staring. She mocked an offended look before breaking into a short giggle.

"You're such a dork, you know that? But I really need my old clothes. I can't keep wearing the same two outfits that Tina bought for me."

"Maybe I can get them for you," I suggested.

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that. Gary would never let you in," she replied.

"Don't you have a key?"

"I do, but Gary never allows strangers or visitors. I think that's from his days in Iraq with the Marines."

"Well, I'd like to try, anyway. The worst that can happen is that we're back to where we started from, which is the same as not trying at all. At least this way, we have a chance," I pointed out.

"Alright but I should remind you that he's a marine and has combat training."

"I'll soften him up by bringing him a case of his favorite brand of beer. That should work, right?" I suggested. I also had another plan in mind, but I couldn't tell Bailie about it.

"He usually gets whatever is cheapest, but he loves that Canadian beer they advertise on TV during hockey games. But Ross, be very careful, he gets violent when he's drunk," she replied, as her eyes drifted down to my crotch.

"We had a neighbor who lived next door to us on the farm in New York who was like that. I think I know how to take care of him."

"You're so sweet to try, thank you," she smiled. She moved closer and kissed me on the lips, closing her eyes. After breaking the kiss, she looked in my eyes and hesitated, as if deciding whether or not to take the next step. Then she reached up and caressed my cheek several times before kissing me again, this time slipping her velvety tongue between my lips.

I sucked lightly on her tongue before kissing her back. She pressed herself against me as she followed my example and sucked on my tongue, moaning pleasantly. When we broke the kiss to breathe, she looked at me, and her eyes seemed to sparkle.

"I... I..." she began shyly, searching for the words to express her feelings. She needn't have bothered. Her radiant smile and even more radiant aura spoke volumes.

"Me, too," I replied, as I leaned in and kissed her again. She sucked on my tongue while taking my hand and placing it over her left breast, pressing it firmly against her. I closed my palm against her soft mound, tenderly squeezing it through the thin fabric of the nightie. Her rock-hard nipple seemed to quiver as it poked against my palm. She closed her eyes and let out a pleasant moan.

She fell backwards onto the couch, pulling me on top of her with her legs parted, still pressing my hand against her breast. She reached behind my head with her other hand and pulled my face closer, kissing me back while moaning contentedly into my mouth.

With our crotches pressed together, the thin fabric of the G-string of her nightie offered intimate contact with the bulge in my khakis, and she started to grind herself against me. As if by instinct, I ground back, matching her rhythm like some ancient erotic dance that had lain dormant inside us, awakening to be performed for the first time.

She picked up the tempo and I kept pace with her, perhaps subconsciously guided by my demonic awareness of her bright and growing aura. I squeezed her breast, and her moaning got louder, and her breathing became increasingly ragged. I didn't need my demonic sense to know she was getting close.

Suddenly she stopped. Perhaps it was some subtle distraction, but whatever it was, her aura and her mood quickly changed.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, as she stopped moving her hips.

"What?" I panted, stopping with her.

"I can't. Please, let me up," she panted, struggling to rise.

I quickly moved to the far side of the couch, allowing her to get up.

"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" I asked, concerned about her sudden turnabout.

"No, it's just--I can't. I'm sorry," she said regretfully, as she stood up and hurried to the stairs, brushing a tear from her cheek.

"Bailie, wait!" I called after her.

But all I heard was a sob and a sniffled as she continued up the stairs, followed by the sound of the bedroom door closing.

I was confused. Her kiss, the glowing aura, her body's reaction all sent me the same message and I acted accordingly--or was that the incubus part of me? It all seemed so right. So, what happened? Was I too aggressive? How could I have read the signals wrong?

My demonic nose picked up the lingering scent of her arousal, further adding to my confusion and guilt. I wanted to go up and talk with her, but she clearly needed more time. Maybe I did, too.

It was late, but I knew I couldn't sleep. I took out my Business Marketing textbook and started reading--or at least I tried to, but all I could think about was Bailie and of what just happened--or didn't happen. After half an hour, I gave up. Marketing strategies would have to wait until I was better able to focus my mind on my studies.

I picked up my sleepwear from the chair where I had left them this morning, a pair of shorts and an old tee shirt, and went upstairs to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. Coming out, I saw the light was on under the door to my room, so I knocked softly.

"Bailie? Are you awake? Can we talk about it?" I called quietly.

"No. I can't. Maybe tomorrow," replied the doleful voice behind the door.

I retreated to the couch after turning out the lights and feigning sleep. As I lay in the dark, I became aware of a series of energy bursts that I had been receiving throughout much of the day, but it was only now that I understood what they were.

{Frankie?} I called telepathically.

{Oh, Mast--um, Zucchini Boy! Fuck. I've been cumming all day, I'm so fucking sensitive.}

She was masturbating.

{Frankie, you sound exhausted. When I changed the size and sensitivity of your clit, I meant for you to enjoy better orgasms, not continuous ones.}

{Fuck, Mas--uh, Zucchini, I've never cum so much in my life. I can't stop. I've already gone through a fucking weeks' worth of underwear. I borrowed a skirt from Kayla to go to class because I can't wear pants.}

{Oh, crap! I'm sorry, Frankie. This is all my fault; it appears I took things too far. Let me help you.}

I pictured her pierced clit in my mind and returned it to its previous condition, easing the swelling and soreness in her labia at the same time.

{Oh, thank God!} The relief in her thoughts was palpable.

{Frankie, why didn't you say something? I could have fixed this sooner.}

{It was your gift to me, Zucchini. I thought that's what you wanted. Besides, I was afraid to hurt your feelings,} she replied.

{Hurt my feelings?! Damn it, Frankie, I thought we had an understanding about this fawning deference shit. I didn't need to enthrall you to pleasure me. I only did it to make you happy. Isn't that what you wanted?}

{Are you mad at me?} There was obvious concern in her thoughts.

{Mad at you? God no. Not at all. I'm mad at myself. You were right, I'm a terrible incubus. I keep screwing everything up. How can I make it up to you?}

{No, Mast--um, no. There's no need for you to make up for anything, but I appreciate the thought--Ha! that's a pun! I was wrong about you being a bad incubus. I don't know what an incubus is supposed to be like or even if there are more out there, but there are, I hope they're all just as kind and caring as you,} she replied. I felt her aura glow a warm yellow.

{Thank you, but I feel really bad about what I did. Seriously, what can I do to compensate for today?}

{You can come over here and fuck me with that great big--oh shit, you can't. I'm about to have my period. I don't suppose you could make those things go away.}

{Your period? I don't see why not... there, it's as good as done,} I replied after changing her cycle to the pre-ovulatory stage and freezing it there.

{Holy fuck! Zucchini, you're a fucking angel! I could fucking kiss you right now,} she exclaimed.

{I'm glad I could do at least one thing right this evening,} I sighed, rolling over and looking up at the ceiling.

{You okay? You sound sad. Anything I can help with?} she asked.

{No, it's just been a bad evening. It's nothing you or anyone else can do about it.}

{It's Bailie, isn't it?}

{Yeah, among other things. How did you know? Is it that obvious?}

Under the heading of "other things," I had another surge of energy, followed by Marge's voice and an image of her in bed with her wet fingers pressed between her legs. {Oh. My. God! That felt so good. Thank you, Master!}

Frankie laughed. {No, a girl can tell when there's another woman involved, and I know how you feel about Bailie...}

It was hard to focus on any one conversation with both girls were telepathing me at the same time.

{You're welcome, Marge. And don't forget about your diet and exercise tomorrow,} I replied.

{... sometimes we girls can sense when another...} Frankie continued.

Still excited by her orgasm, Marge's thoughts broke in. {I won't, Master. I can do it, you'll see. But what are we going to do about Gil, Master? Finals are next week and he's going to demand I fix his grades. If I don't, he'll tell his father and have me arrested to breaking into the college's computer system.}

{I have an idea about that, but it's going to be unpleasant at first--for both of us,} I replied to Marge, focusing more on her concerns.

{Unpleasant, Master? What do you mean?} she asked.

{We can discuss this at another time. Right now, it's late and I still have a few details I need to work out. But I'll keep my promise to protect you, you'll see.}

{I trust you, Master. Is there anything I need to do in the meantime?} Marge telepathed.

{No, just let me know the next time Gil comes around,} I replied.

{... if you don't mind, of course,} Frankie telepathed, completing whatever it was she was thinking.

I completely missed most of what Frankie telepathed. But rather than admit it and reveal to her that I was tuned into another thrall, I simply went along with her as if I had heard everything she thought.

{Uh, sure. You know I trust you, Frankie. Why don't you get some sleep, you sound tired,} I replied, hoping that whatever I missed wasn't too important.

Maybe I should have told Frankie about Marge, but I decided to wait until I was in a better mood.

{Goodnight, Master} / {Goodnight, Zucchini Boy} Marge and Frankie telepathed simultaneously.

{Goodnight, girls} I replied, sleepily to both at the same time.

{{Girls?! Who is the other--}} Marge and Frankie telepathed back.

'Oh shit.'

{Uh,... well... I'll tell you about the other one tomorrow, after I get some rest. I promise,} I replied to both girls as I lowered my "antennae" horns and closed my eyes.

***

Thursday, December 14

(Frankie)

For an incubus, Zucchini Boy can be such a dork about girls. It was puzzling, but also part of his charm. There was a certain innocence about him, which was the last characteristic I would have expected to see in a sex demon. From the moment I met him, I knew there was something "off" about him. How else could you explain those snake-like eyes and stubby horns he had the first time I saw him in the library. But it was his naivete that threw me off. At first, I wondered if his "innocence" was an act of deception, a clever way of getting laid by a house full of horny cunts. However, he never tried to take advantage of me or any of the sorority bitches. He didn't even know about thralls or soul-snatching. In the end, I decided that he simply didn't know a lot about girls and how to talk to them.

Which is why when I telepathed him last night, I offered to step in and have a heart-to-heart talk with Bailie. I knew from our chat the other day that she had deep feelings for Ross, so there must be something else going on. Maybe if she didn't want to talk with him about it, she'd be willing to share with me. After all, we were both girls who grew up without a mother or another woman with whom we could share our feelings.

I knew that Bailie and Ross were in the Advanced Forensics class together on Thursday mornings, so I waited outside the classroom for them to emerge. At 10 AM, Bailie headed for the library. She looked upset and walked with her head down. Ross followed at a distance, looking lost and confused.

"Hey, Zucchini Boy! Do you have a minute?" I called when he was outside.

He turned around and seemed surprised when he saw me.

"Frankie? Are you following me?" he asked.

"Well, sort of. I, um, wanted to ask you about the other thrall," I replied, omitting the fact that I was also following Bailie and wanted to speak with her. I wondered if he was reading my mind about that.

{Let's not have that conversation in public. Let's discuss that in here,} he replied telepathically.

{Oh, of course. It's just that I was so surprised when you said there was another thrall, that I couldn't wait to ask you about her. Is it Bailie?} I asked.

He made a sour face. {I could never make her my thrall. You know that.}

{It is a girl though, isn't it?} I asked, smirking.

He broke out into huge grin. {Of course, it's a girl. I hope you're not having gay sex fantasies about me.}

{I just didn't want to make too many assumptions. Besides, Mage Lutien's book said that a sex demon could change genders. Sex is pretty good on my side of the bed too, you know,} I replied.

{My life is complicated enough as it is, transforming into a woman would only--Oh, that reminds me, I need to call Leslie Littlefield,} he telepathed as he took out his phone.

{Wait, before you call. Who is the other thrall?}

He looked at me and blushed, "It's Marge Collinsworth."

I was dumbfounded.

"Marge Coll--" {Marge Collinsworth! Are you out of your mind? I thought you didn't want thralls. I had to beg you to make me one. But not only did you get a second one the day after you make me your first, but Large Marge of all people. Why?}

{Maybe you should ask her that question. She's not quite the princess she makes herself out to be. Like you, she puts up a good front to hide from her own personal hell. But the other reason is that she's been spying on you. She's been tapping into your phone and school accounts and found out that you took out Mage Lutien's book, so she put in that request to get it after you. From there, she reasoned that I was an incubus and threatened to blackmail me. That's when I made her a thrall. Now I don't have to worry about her harming you or blackmailing me.}

{Does she know I'm your thrall?} I asked.

{No. I thought about telling her later today, but maybe you should be the one to tell her and 'welcome her into the club,' so to speak. As my first thrall, I think that should be your privilege,} he suggested.

I smiled. I could see the advantage of that. {I'll do it.}

{Oh, that also reminds me. Why don't the two of you have lunch together? Tell her I said it should be her treat. She's going to be losing a lot of weight this week, providing she stays on the diet and exercise program I laid out for her. You could make sure she's following my instructions. Let her know I told you that,} he explained.

{What kind of diet and exercise program is she on?} I asked.

{I'll let her explain that to you. She needs to know that I trust her to be honest with you,} he replied.

{Marge Collinsworth on a diet and exercise program. This I've got to see,} I thought.

{Please be nice to her. I've got to make this call, and we'll catch up later,} he replied as he started calling while changing direction and heading for the Business classrooms.

I caught up with Bailie in the library. She was in one of the study carrels.

"Bailie, we need to talk," I whispered as I pulled up a chair alongside her.

She looked surprised to see me. "I'm busy," she replied, before turning back to her book.

I grabbed the book and took it away from her.

"Hey! Give me that back!" she said aloud.

"SHH!" someone in the library shushed loudly.

"This is important," I whispered.

"Frankie, everything's important to you. I've got final exams next week and I need to study. Anyway, I'm not in a good mood right now," she replied. She sounded both annoyed and sad.

"That's why we have to talk. It's because--"

"Shh! If you two want to talk, go outside. This is a library. People are trying to study in here," Miss Goodman whispered sternly. She seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Come on," I whispered, pulling Bailie by the arm.

"Fine," she replied, reluctantly, leaving her books behind.

I led her to the foyer to a spot against the wall and out of the way.

"I know you're hurting about something. Is there something Ross said or did that upset you?" I asked.

She glowered at me. "Did he tell you that? Or did someone send you another video?" she asked angrily.

"Neither. I spoke with Ross this morning and he seemed really upset but wouldn't tell me why. Then, when I saw how unhappy you were, I figured it out," I explained.

"Why are you getting involved in this? You have feelings for him, don't you?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do. But the way he feels about me is a lot different from the way he feels about you. I can also see how much he means to you. So, tell me, what's going on between the two of you?" I asked.

She looked around.

"Can we talk someplace more private?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. Come with me." I took her into one of the faculty buildings and broke into an empty office. We sat in the chairs in front of the desk.

"I'm staying with Ross and Tina Nicholson in Tina's house after my stepfather tried to... tried to..."

"He tried to rape you?"

She nodded. "They've both been very kind to me. Tina bought me a few things to wear because all of my clothes are in my stepfather's apartment; and Ross gave up his room and his bed and is sleeping on the couch in the living room."

"So, what's the problem?" I asked.

"Last night, Ross came back late. He said he had to leave to help someone right after his library shift. I was waiting for him on the couch when he returned, and we kissed. Well, one thing led to another, and I ended up lying on the couch with Ross on top of me. I could feel his, um thing in his pants pressing against me."

"His penis?" I asked.

"Uh, yes. It was hard and it was pressing against my, um,... you know--down there," she explained, blushing a little.

"Bailie, you can say 'penis' and 'clit.' We're both adults and I'm not a fucking prude like Miss Goodman," I replied, smiling.

"I know. It just seems so--I don't know."

"Bailie, you're 20-years-old. You have had sex, haven't you?"

"Just with... I mean my stepfather tried to..." her voice faded.

"Oh, my God! You poor thing!" I said, getting up and hugging her shoulders.

She started sobbing as she continued. Her head was near my breasts, and it felt like she was talking into them.

"I... I started to rub against him. It felt really good. Then he started to hump me back, and that made me feel warm and funny, tingly-like all over. Not just in my... my clit, but even in my br-breasts and... n-nipples. My body started to tighten up, like something was about to happen. And I was wet--you know, down there. Oh, I was so embarrassed," she sobbed.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I got up and ran to my room... well, Ross's room. My panties--G-string I was wearing had a wet spot, but it didn't smell like pee. I can't imagine what Ross must think of me," she sobbed.

"That's it? That's what you're embarrassed about?" I asked, leaning back in the chair, chuckling.

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?" she asked.

I stopped laughing.

"Bailie, I promise I'm not making fun of you. I was laughing because you reminded me of the first time I got wet from being aroused, and how embarrassed I was when it happened to me. I thought I pissed myself."

She looked surprised. "That's exactly what I thought!"

"Bailie, can I ask you a personal question? Have you ever had an orgasm?"

"I... I don't know. Maybe?" she replied quietly.

"Oh my God. You'd definitely know if you did. That wetness you were feeling was your body getting ready to cum. Orgasms can be very mild or very intense, but they're all wonderful. There's nothing embarrassing about them--except maybe if you had one in public," I explained.

"Are you sure? You mean I was about to have an orgasm?" she asked.

"Of course, I'm sure. Bailie, haven't you ever masturbated? Or even tasted yourself?" I asked.

"N-no," she replied hesitantly.

"Oh fuck, girl. You have no idea what you're missing. I'd be happy to have you come to the BI house and share my toys with you and show you how good an orgasm can feel. Or better yet, ask Ross to give you one. That man can give great orgasms, trust me," I replied enthusiastically.

"You mean you two have..."

"Yeah, we fucked. We kidnapped him and brought him to the house to make--er, help him lose his virginity. It's part of an initiation we do for fun at the sorority. That's how I found out that Ross was something special. It was afterwards that I discovered that he has a thing for you," I explained.

"But he's never tried to--to... you know, do it with me--"

"The word is 'fuck', Bailie. Just say the word. You'll feel so much better," I insisted.

"I can't."

"What are you afraid of? It's just a word. Say it."

"Fuck," she said, quietly.

"Louder. It won't bite you."

"Fuck," she repeated.

"That's better. So, are you telling me that Ross has never tried to fuck you?" I asked.

"Yes. I mean, no... I mean, yes, he's never tried to fuck me," she replied.

"Haven't you ever dreamed he would fuck you?" I asked.

"No. But I dreamt we were naked once--and I put his hand on my breast."

"It's not the same thing, but it's a start, I guess. Would you like him to fuck you?"

"I... I don't know. I've never had intercour-- I mean, fucked... um, other than what my stepfather--you know," she replied.

"Look, I know Ross. He's never going to make the first move unless you tell him or give him a sign. When you humped him, that was a signal, and he humped you back. It must have felt just as good to him as it did to you. But when you stopped and went to your room, it probably confused him. I know that would have frustrated the shit out of me."

"Oh, I feel so bad. I had no idea. I stopped because I thought I was doing something wrong," she said regretfully.

"It's okay, Bailie. Just talk to him. He'll understand. He's crazy about you. And do yourself a favor, ask him to make you cum. Tell him you want him to give you your first orgasm. You won't believe how happy that will make him--and you, of course. Or if you prefer me to do it, I can give you as many orgasms as you think you can handle."

She recoiled slightly. "No, thank you. I don't... I mean you're... It just that--"

I chuckled. "I get it. You're vanilla and until you get your first taste of ice cream, toppings are out of the question. Just because I'm Neapolitan, it doesn't mean I want to push you into something you're not ready for. I was merely offering because I felt bad that you haven't had the chance to experience one of the greatest joys of womanhood."

She looked puzzled. "Are we still talking about orgasms?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, fuck. You really are a newbie. Don't let my euphemism distract you. Do you remember how good you felt when you were humping him on the couch? Well, organisms are a million times better than that.

"You make it sound wonderful. Do they really feel that good?"

"Orgasms come in all shapes and sizes, and each is unique in its own way. Describing them to someone who has never experienced one doesn't do them justice. The only way you will ever know is to have one for yourself; and I recommend that for your first orgasm, you have it with someone with whom you really care about and most importantly, who cares about you."

Bailie looked at me quietly for a while before replying.

"When I was working at the diner, you and the sorority girls used to make fun of me and give me a hard time. But this is the second time you've taken me aside and called me by my real name and urged me to follow my heart when it comes to Ross. Why? What's changed?"

"It's none of your business," I said, as I hid my face and turned towards the door.

She grabbed my arm to stop me.

"No. Not this time, Frankie. You're different, something's happened to you. How can I trust you if you won't tell me what's changed?"

I saw the look on her face. Instead of that shy, deferential, "mousey" appearance I used to see at the diner, there was a genuine sense of determination and the need to understand. This was undoubtedly what Zucchini Boy saw in her.

"Alright, I'll tell you. But you have to promise me that this will remain between the two of us."

"I promise," she replied sincerely.

"I grew up with a drug addict for a mother and spent most of my childhood in and out of foster homes. My first sexual experience was when the daughter of one of my foster parents came into my bed one night when her parents were asleep. I ran away the next day. My second encounter was at the next foster home with my foster father on a day when his wife was out grocery shopping."

"Did you report him to anyone?" Bailie asked.

"I was an 18-year-old girl with a history of juvenile delinquency and petty theft who was in and out of jail. Who do you think they'd believe if I reported him?

"That was just like my stepfather," Bailie said quietly.

I nodded and continued.

"I ran away that night and was living on the streets for a while. That's where I met Carol. She was a couple of years older than me, and she was hooked up with a couple of guys, one her age, the other a year or two older. They were a lot of fun to hang out with, and I found out later that they were pimping her out for money. Long story short, I needed money too, so I decided to do the same thing."

"Carol taught me a lot about hustling. Her first advice was to get inked. Guys get horny when they see a girl with a tattoo; they think it's a billboard that says, 'fuck me.' Carol's pimp friends paid for my first three tats because I let them fuck me and because they knew it would attract more johns. She taught me a bunch of other tricks such as keeping guys on edge before letting them cum so they'd pay more when things were slow, or getting them to cum quickly when business was good and guys were lined up waiting. I was a fast learner, and soon I was making more money than her, although most of what I made was taken by her pimp friends. We had a hard rule about not trading or stealing johns, but word got out about how good I was, and they started coming to me. To get around our "no trading, no stealing rule," some of the marks asked for a threesome or they'd pay Carol for a blowie and then stick their dicks in me."

It was about that same time when I realized her pimp friends were stealing a lot of my earnings, so I started hoarding money. But when you're living on the streets, there aren't too many places to hide cash, and the easiest way was to wear it. I got pierced and bought expensive body jewelry, gold hoops, nipple rings and such. I'd scuff them up with dirt and soot and told the pimps it was cheap costume jewelry, and I got away with it."

"Then, one night, Carol got careless and was busted. I got away, but when the guys didn't come to her rescue, I knew all this "protection money" they were taking from me was just a scam. It turned out that Carol was pregnant and wanted to keep the baby. I suspect that's why she allowed herself to get caught. That's when I decided to branch out on my own. The guys came after me, along with a couple of their friends. But I was ready for them and kicked, scratched, gouged, and bit them--especially Bill, the leader and they left me alone. I got cut up pretty bad, but I covered the scars with tattoos."

"What made you decide to go to college?" Frankie asked.

"Being in business for myself forced me to learn a new set of skills, especially accounting and reading people. Teasing guys and letting them stick their cocks in me was the easy part. To make money, I had to keep them from stealing and taking advantage of me. I knew I needed to look for a better long-term way of making a living. The answer came one night when I decided to follow one of my best-dressed regulars. I discovered he was the pastor of one of the richer churches in Bangor. The next time he was inside me and just about to cum, I shouted, 'Fuck me harder, Reverend, make me see God'!"

Bailie put her hand over her mouth to hide her smile. "What happened?"

I giggled. "We had 'a little arrangement' after that. He set up a college fund to help a poor 19-year-old juvenile delinquent girl with a drug addict mother who had been in and out of foster care in exchange for my silence and a promise to stay off the streets and away from any bad news reports."

"I'm glad things worked out for you, but you still haven't told me why you've changed the way you're treating me," she replied.

"It has to do with Zucchini B--I mean, Ross. Until I met him, I thought that all people were just horny, selfish and stupid. I mean, fuck, that pastor would still be screwing me on the side if I didn't threaten to out him. Ross made me realize that being strong doesn't mean being alone, providing I could find the right person who believed in me and could make me stronger. He made me feel good about myself and showed me that there are people out there that care about me and are willing to put me and my needs ahead of their own."

"When I saw him kissing you at the Pizza Palace, it was the first time I thought of you as a person and not just some nameless nothing waitress working at a greasy diner. It reminded me of how I felt about myself when was living on the street, alone and turning tricks. Yeah, I was jealous of you at first, but it felt good helping you get back together with him and feeling like you belong with someone who loves you," I explained.

My eyes began to well with tears and I could see Bailie's eyes were doing the same.

"Can I hug you?" she asked, sniffling.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

"Oh, fuck. Don't get so soppy girlie on me. Just remember what I told you," I said as I opened the door and left.

After talking with Bailie, I went to Marge's dorm room to find out why Zucchini Boy made her a thrall. 'Maybe you should ask her that question yourself,' he suggested, and that was what I intended to do.

"Oh, Frankie! I was just about to call you! Come on in," Marge said when she opened her door wearing nothing but a plush bathrobe.

Her hair was wet, and she smelled of soap and shampoo, as she stepped aside to let me in.

"Sorry about my appearance, I had just gotten out of the shower when you knocked. Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything? Soda? A latte? Something to eat?" she asked.

'What the fuck? Was this the same bitch who tried to humiliate me in front of the entire sorority? Zucchini must have really done some number on her.'

"No, I'm fine. Finish what you were doing and then we can talk," I replied, as I sat on the bed while she walked into the bathroom.

She took out her hair dryer and brush and started to work on her hair.

"I had just come back from a short run and was going to ask you if I could bring over some frozen pizzas, snacks, and sodas for you and the rest of the girls," she said as she worked on her hair. While she was talking, the front of her robe fell open and she seemed to be distracted by something on her chest.

Curious about her distraction, I quietly got up and approached her from behind.

"I'm cleaning out my refrigerator and closets as part of my new weight loss routine. I've already lost ten pounds since yesterday," she said, smiling at herself in the mirror.

I was close enough to see what she was looking at. There, on her chest just to the right and slightly underneath her left boob was a "tattoo" of a crouching red demon in profile with its tail curling backwards to resemble a small heart shape, with its head and black wings above it, Ross's mark as his thrall.

"Oh, a new tat, I see," I said, standing behind her.

She startled, realizing I was so close.

"Oh!... Um, yes. I got it last night. I love it. It's changed my whole outlook," she replied.

"I'm sure it has. I have one just like it," I said as I opened my shirt and showed her my mark.

Marge's mouth flew open when she saw my chest.

"YOU! You're the other thrall?" she asked.

"Yes. He asked me to keep an eye on you, to make sure you were following his instructions. He also suggested you should take me out to lunch," I replied.

"Sure, I'll take you. Where would you like to go? I'll take you anyplace in the city you want, just as long as they have a salad I can eat," she replied.

"How about the Pizza Palace? I know they have salads there," I suggested.

"Ugh, iceberg lettuce and tomatoes out of season. I know, I'll order from Richard's and have Door Dash deliver and we'll eat here. That way we can talk in private," she countered.

We had a 90-minute discussion over lunch about people and parents and how their greed and addictions screwed us over, leaving us trying to survive in a predatory world with nothing but bad options. She told me she asked to be enthralled to protect herself from her parents and that asshole Gil, on the hockey team. I told her about falling in love with 'Master' and realizing I could never have him all to myself. We both arrived at the same conclusion by becoming thralls to the one individual we considered to be least predatory, a sex demon.

We both found ourselves laughing at the irony. That's when Marge suddenly stopped and looked at me.

"What are we doing? I thought we were supposed to hate each other," she remarked.

"Fuck. You're right. You were always such a bitch before. What happened?" I asked.

"I guess I got so interested in hearing about your mother and how much you struggled that I felt I could relate to you," she replied.

"I guess I could say the same about you," I answered.

"Frankie, I should tell you that I've been using spyware to monitor your texts and emails. I'm sorry."

"I know. Zucchini Boy told me."

"Y-you still call him Zucchini Boy? Aren't you afraid he'll get angry?" Marge asked, anxiously.

"I was at first, but I think he got used to it before I became his thrall. He said it made him feel more like a friend and less like a demon. That makes sense, I guess. Why, what do you call him?"

"I call him 'Master,' it just seems natural," she replied.

"Oh, he hates that. Maybe you should call him something else, unless you want to get kinky with him."

Marge giggled. "I know how kinky you like to get; I've seen your online purchases. What do you suggest I call him?"

"I don't know. That's up to you? How do you think of him?"

She paused for a few seconds. "Right now, I can only think of him as 'Master'."

"Maybe you should ask him what he wants you to call him. If nothing else comes to mind, you could always just call him 'Ross'. That is his name, after all," I replied.

She stared at the floor. "I can't, at least for the time being. Before I became his thrall, I wasn't just a bitch to him, I betrayed his trust and hurt the people he cared for. Not just you, but that girl from the diner."

"You mean Bailie? That wasn't just you, the entire sorority did that," I reminded her.

"No, I'm not talking about that. This was more recent. Do you remember those two guys wearing ski masks that vandalized the diner? That was Gil and Darrel. I lied and told the police they were with me. Then after I saw that video Gina sent of Master and Bailie kissing at the Pizza Palace, well, I realized how much he loved her. Until I can find some way of atoning for what I've done, I'm going to continue to think of him as 'Master'."

"Why don't you just go to the police and just tell them that you lied before?" I suggested.

"I can't. Gil's father is the Chief of Police, remember? He'll arrest me and put me in jail until this whole thing blows over, and my father won't dare come to my rescue because Gil's father will expose his Ponzi scheme if he does."

"Does Zucchini Boy know about any of this?"

She looked at me. "Not about being Gil's alibi. I'm afraid to tell him. I'm surprised he hasn't read my mind and found out already. Or maybe he has, since he doesn't seem to mind me calling him 'Master'. Like I said, until I can find a way of atoning, I'm going to keep thinking of him that."

I shook my head. "That's on you, but if I were you, I would tell him. I know from personal experience that he's very forgiving. You're not the only thrall who hurt Bailie--and he forgave me."

"I'll think about it. In the meantime, will you help me clean out my refrigerator and closets and take my snack foods back to the BI House?"

********

Next Chapter: Bailie gets her clothes, Ross his girl and Tina her period.