Margaret Has No Friends (4)

Margaret awoke into misery. She had woken up several times during the night gasping for air, on account of her face being smushed into an older woman's musky cunt, and she had an appropriately fitting headache to show for it. She was sweaty, too. She was underneath a larger woman and had received her body heat the whole night, though her sweat was not centered on her chest. The wettest parts of her body were, embarrassingly, her crotch, which she could not explain besides feeling very warm and pained in that area, and her head- not simply her face, though her light chestnut hair was likely drenched in her abuser's vaginal fluid, she figured. This last time she woke up her client did as well. Mrs. Carver stretched briefly in her prone position, like when a cat reaches out its front legs, before she rose up to stretch more fully, causing a desperate gasp of air from Margaret as the old woman shifted her entire weight right onto her face.

"Mmmnhhh," the single mother moaned as she recovered from her most spiritually satisfying rest of the past decade. "Wow, Margaret dear! I have to admit, last night was pretty great. I can't ever recall feeling more like a real woman than when showing you that you aren't one. Fuck. Thinking about last night..." She started groping herself, fondling her large ivory breast in one hand as the other slid down her abdomen to her clitoris. "Ngh, I want to squirt in your mouth again. You don't mind, right?" Margaret struggled to find an answer- rather, she struggled to find the breath to answer. Her mouth was buried underneath nearly 200 lbs of succulent woman and had no chance of escaping without her lezdom rapist's sayso. "Well, not that it matters. You don't have the right to refuse a woman her sexual needs." She briefly lifted one of her thighs, allowing air to pass and for Margaret to greedily suck it down. "Isn't that right, dear?" Her prodding was met only by the gasps of a girl starving for oxygen. "Hm. Wrong answer." With that she covered the air flow again. Some short seconds later she reopened it, and once more prodded her hapless cunt-slave. "Want to try again?"

"I *GASP* I h... have..."

"Too slow!" Mrs. Carver scolded as she punished the slow girl. The power she held over Margaret was filling Mrs. Carver's heart with the bliss of power that a simple wife and mother not often has the chance to feel in her life- and she found it positively enthralling. "I might get addicted to this," she thought. She did relent, though, and gave the poor suffocating girl another chance. "One last tryyy..." She taunted in a sing-song manner.

"I have... no right to refuse a..."

"A what dear? What aren't you refusing?"

"A, a woman..."

"You aren't refusing a woman? I'm sorry, I don't understand little Margaret."

"I... I don't have the right to refuse a woman her s-sexual needs." Margaret's cheeks were burning crimson with the sheer humiliation of what she was being made to say, not that Mrs. Carver could see it, though, as poor Margaret's cheeks were currently hidden under her own, lower cheeks, and Mrs. Carver had half a mind, well more than half, to cover the poor girl's lips with her own lower lips again, as well. Such beautiful poetic symmetry, it seemed to her, that it must be fated for Margaret to suffer this.

"And why not, dear? Hm? Why don't you have that right?" Margaret had never thought herself a coward, or easily cowed. She thought that she was the sort of person who always stood up for what was right and could not so easily be swayed to say differently. Yet she was now realizing that she was never quite the amazing person in real life as she thought she was in her mind. She had given in to Jessica's demands pretty swiftly- not just for the blackmail, but even in allowing herself to get drunk so easily after fearing they were underage, and then being foolishly manipulated into performing sexual acts on her new "friends" which began her troubles. In addition, every woman she spent time with in these past weeks, near universally, referred to her as a so-called "girl-failure." Some ludicrous term that she had assumed that Jessica had put into her "advertising," but it always sprang up when the women demeaned her as she ate them out. That's on top of how she was almost universally disregarded at school anyhow. Now she found herself on the verge of admitting something so terrible that her pride ought not to be able to ever live it down. She didn't want to, it burned knowing that the words were going to leave her lips... but damn if her lungs didn't burn when her rapist cut off her air. She was so weak as to debase herself just to draw another breath, and the realization hurt.

"Be... because I'm not a real woman... I'm a tool, a tool that brings real women to orgasm... I just have the shape of a woman..." Margaret started to cry, to sob, even as she clenched her teeth and the tears were stopped from flowing by the bodacious butt above her, and Mrs. Carver just smiled down, a mix of sadism and pride in her work.

"Good girl."

Mrs. Carver had let Margaret sob for a minute, letting the "last of her humanity" leave her so that she could better fulfill her job as a feminine marital aid. When the tears at last subsided, Mrs. Carver turned up her abuse. She about faced, so that her clitoris faced towards the top of Margaret's head instead of her chin, and started to grind. She didn't care about Margaret's tongue work, she just wanted to remind her of the admission she had made. Pussy, pussy, and more pussy was all that she could expect from life. It wouldn't always be a slow deal where she had the time to calmly stimulate a clitoris at her leisure. Sometimes a real woman just wanted to feel like a, well, real woman, and the best way to do that was to show another "female" where she stood. Yes, Margaret would get used to this, Mrs. Carver imagined. As she ground the poor girl's face into her cunt like she was grating cheese, she pictured a scenario of pale, brunette Margaret, young and autistic, trapped in an alleyway by a street gang of all women. She imagined their assorted colors, bronze and brass, ebony and coal, grinding against the poor girl's mouth, coercing her to stick her tongue deep into their musky cunts at knifepoint until they came down her throat one by one, marking her as gang property. As the bed shook and rocked with the force of Mrs. Carver's abusive gyrations, years passed by in this horny fantasy that was bringing her to climax. She saw them giving her humiliating piercing and tattoos. Maybe two linked venus symbols on her cheeks, or a "Girls Only" tattoo on her forehead, that anyone who ever saw her knew her mouth's purpose in this world, and her life and reputation were irreparably ruined and there could never be anything else for her but this. She imagined them forcing her into some perverse marriage ceremony where they gave her a veil and a "ring" tongue-piercing, and then forced her to "marry" a vagina, or several, pledging to keep them happy until the end of their days, Margaret crying in endless shame all the way through her vows and the ceremony.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!! Stupid fucking dyke bitch! Your life is so fucking oveeeer!!!" Mrs. Carver yelled so loud that it would have been a surprise to Margaret if her neighbors across the street did not hear her. But her thoughts were interrupted. Mrs. Carver's assault was rough and painful, but was also passive for Margaret. Given her mood following her shameful admission, she preferred it. But Mrs. Carver's massive orgasm almost drowned her, and she found herself swallowing the older woman's essence just to catch a breath.

"Damn... Fuck, Margaret... If Jessica ever loses interest in you, you should come and live with me. My bed has been empty ever since my ex moved out. Of course, you wouldn't be an equal partner, but I'd always have something for your mouth to do... plus, you could see John more- if I ever let you out of my bed, that is." She ran her fingers through Margaret's messy, cum-stained locks, easing on the grip she had had in them just moments ago. A sudden waft of the scent of her crotch and its fluid expulsions mixed with the sweat and tears of Margaret's face reached up to Mrs. Carver. "Whew! That's gotten raw! I think a shower is in order."

Mrs. Carver dragged her toy with her to the bathroom and started the hot water. She ordered Margaret to kneel outside the shower basin and stare at her as she washed herself down, mocking the straight girl with seductive flair as if she were trying to woo a man. When Mrs. Carver felt clean enough, she had Margaret join her, on her knees, of course. She had Margaret kneel before her as Mrs. Carver straddled slightly. The single mother looked down with sadistic glee as she fit Margaret into her new position, spreading her lower lips and containing Margaret's entire mouth within her outer labia, like fitting the poor girl into a sapphic puzzle piece. It seemed to Mrs. Carver to resemble the sucker of an Octopus, or a plunger, suctioning onto Margaret's face in an endearing manner, though Margaret could not entertain such notions, her entire mind outraged and disgusted by the sheer perversion of the act. Yet in such a position would Mrs. Carver have Margaret stay in for the better part of an hour, licking, sucking, and breathing in Mrs. Carver's new soapy scent as she enjoyed both Margaret's ministrations and the feel of the shower head's hot water raining down on her.

Disgusting and perverse as the act was, Margaret was getting used to it (as much as that itself horrified her) and was able to disassociate from the sensations to some degree. However she would next be taught a new "fun" way to worship a real woman which, though not as perverse, kept her mind occupied in shame and disgust. It was after the shower and on the bed, following a lengthened session of Mrs. Carver using Margaret's tongue as a washcloth for her crotch, where's Mrs. Carver felt something was missing in her worship.

"Margaret, dear, you've done so well to make an old doll like me feel her cunt is appreciated, but, oh, I long for something else. Make yourself useful and spend some time worshipping my feet." Margaret didn't process the order at first, or perhaps she chose not to so as to not have to follow through with it, but a second, more curt order, followed by a reminder of her mistress' whip, at last got Margaret into action.

Mrs. Carver lay back, her arms behind her head in a relaxing manner, as she hoisted up a foot at Margaret's face. The poor virgin wanted to protest, wanted to complain, wanted to whine... but she knew there was nothing for that and that nothing would change. Like a kitten that stops meowing when its mother stops responding to it, Margaret was "growing up." None of the women she serviced saw her as a human being, they just used her for her mouth, regardless of her feelings, regardless of her sexuality, and she was starting to worry, more and more, that this would be it for her. Could she make it to graduation? What would she be by the time she graduated? She tried to stop those thoughts, as they would give her no reprieve. Instead, she swallowed her shame and dove into this new "foot worship" thing. Mrs. Carver, though her eyes were closed, gave Margaret detailed instructions and corrections. Margaret would switch between snaking her tongue through Mrs. Carver's (fortunately recently cleaned!) toes, licking the length of the older woman's soles, and sucking on toes at a time. At last when her client was satisfied, she was given a slight reprieve as Mrs. Carver rolled over onto her stomach, though of course this was no more than the beginning of Margaret's next perverse task.

"My ass next."

"What?"

"Come now dear, don't play deaf- you heard me. Kiss and suck on my asscheeks. Let me know I'm not too old to feel appreciated there~" Margaret acceded, quietly, reluctantly, and began to worship another woman's ass for the first time, kissing, smooching really, Mrs. Carver's bubbly ass. Mrs. Carver has Margaret give a nice mixture of planted kisses, long, devoted licks along the entirety of a cheek, and sucking that gave her cheeks hickeys. As they went on, Mrs. Carver had Margaret put on lipstick on leave evidence of her worship, much like the blonde woman had made her do some weeks back. When Mrs. Carver was satisfied with her ass-love, she turned over and had Margaret worship her breasts as she watched TV.

"Disgusting, shameful, gross, despicable..." and on and on Margaret thought to herself. "Making me... making another girl to suck on her breasts. Pig! Creature!" How many times had she thought of the perversion of these women, and how, though still wrong, it would be far more sensible and normal for them to have a man doing these sexual acts to them- a man who could at least feel a sexual attraction to them- than using another girl for such things? But then, a part of her chimed in, "but you aren't a girl, are you? Not really?" And Margaret almost bit Mrs. Carver's breast at the thought. How torturous was her routine, that she had begun to internalize her own dehumanization?

"Hey! No biting! Suck the nipple right or you're going right back into the cunt," ordered Mrs. Carver, and so Margaret returned her focus to the task at hand, mercifully cutting off the thoughts she had been having.

Despite what Mrs. Carver had said, Margaret ended up going right back between the thighs later on, and would spend much of the rest of the day there, Yet, tragically, a part of her preferred it. She didn't have to think, and she was, horrifyingly, getting used to the smells and tastes of female genitalia, though she found the notion of this reality incongruent with her mind, however much it was becoming more and more obviously the truth.

After an entire day of relentless sapphic subjugation on Margaret's part and continuous orgasms on Mrs. Carver's part, their "tryst" finally ended as the sky grew dark. Jessica came to pick up the poor, bedraggled Margaret, and stopped to receive full payment from Mrs. Carver.

"I trust she was to your liking?" Said the redheaded, manipulative bitch.

"Oh and then some," replied the satiated matron. "You should have seen her worship my ass. Not even my ex-husband did that!" Margaret couldn't help but cringe at the revelation. "She really was made for this. She's a bit stubborn and recalcitrant to do the work, but she's making progress. I even got her to admit that she's not a real woman, just a tool for female sexual release!" Jessica's eyes lit up with a fiery, sadistic joy, even as Margaret shrank down and wanted more than ever to die.

"Really?!"

"Yes, dear, and I've got it on video, too! Her eyes are hidden and everything, if you would like it." Margaret teared up, knowing exactly where this would lead.

"Yes, please! I'd love to put that on her website! What a better sales pitch than the girlfailure admitting her purpose as a cunt-cleaner? I can give you a discount for today in exchange for the video?"

"No need, just clear a monthly slot for me to book her for a weekend." Jessica gave an awkward look.

"I'd be happy to do that... except, well, I have some big plans after graduation..."