Latest sex stories about Dominating the Music Teacher – Part 6 added for who looking to read new experience of teenager narrative Dominating the Music Teacher – Part 6 story.
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#Abuse #Blackmail #Lesbian #Rape
By Relatively Speaking
Officer Boone continues to push Lynda’s boundaries.
CHAPTER 6 โ The Sleepover Part 2
“What now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Boone’s smile was cruel as she leaned in close, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. “Now,” she said, her voice a seductive purr, “we’re going to play a game.”
Lynda’s stomach clenched with fear at the words, knowing that any game Boone had in mind could only mean more pain and degradation.
Lynda felt a shiver of terror run down her spine. “What game?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“A game of obedience,” Boone replied, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent. “You’re going to do exactly as I tell you, or I’ll make sure your sweet little Mark sees everything.”
Lynda’s eyes widened in horror at the thought of her son being exposed to this monster. The fear was a cold knife in her gut, sharper than any pain Boone had inflicted on her body. She nodded, swallowing hard to keep the bile down.
“Good,” Boone said, her smile widening. “First, you’re going to go downstairs and make us some drinks. And when you come back, I want you to tell me how much you enjoyed what we just did.”
Lynda’s heart raced as she pushed herself off the bed, her legs threatening to give out beneath her. She kept her eyes on the floor, avoiding Boone’s gaze as she made her way to the door. Every step felt like a betrayal, like she was leaving a piece of herself behind in that room.
As soon as she was gone, Boone got off the bed and retrieved a second flash drive from her clothes and inserted it into Mark’s computer and switched it on. It loaded a Remote Access Tool onto the computer within seconds.
As soon as it was loaded, she withdrew the USB and replaced it in her pocket. Then she switched off the computer and lay back on the bed.
In the kitchen, the stark lights illuminated the pristine surfaces, a stark contrast to the depravity that had just occurred upstairs. Her hands trembled as she filled two glasses with wine, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. But she knew Boone would be watching, waiting for her to slip up. She had to play the game, keep up the facade.
With the drinks in hand, she took a deep, shaky breath and returned to the bedroom. Boone was still lying on Mark’s bed, her legs spread in a blatant display of power. The sight of her there, in her son’s room, made Lynda’s stomach churn. She forced a smile, trying to keep her voice steady as she approached the bed.
“Here you go,” she said, handing Boone a glass.
“I hope you liked it.” Boone took the wine, her eyes never leaving Lynda’s face. “Did you?”
Lynda’s throat was tight, the lie sticking to the roof of her mouth. She took a sip of her own drink, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat, doing nothing to ease the burning anger inside. “Yes,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was… amazing.”
Boone’s eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of deceit. “Really?” she asked, her voice a mix of scepticism and excitement.
Lynda nodded, her heart racing. “Yes,” she said, her voice stronger now. “It was… surprisingly intense.”
Boone’s smile grew, a predator’s grin that made Lynda’s skin crawl. “I knew you had it in you,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. “Now, let’s get back to it.”
Lynda’s hand trembled as she took a sip of her wine, the alcohol doing little to numb the pain of her forced admission. She watched as Boone set her glass aside and beckoned her back to the bed, her eyes gleaming with a sadistic hunger.
Boone waited until Lynda was sitting beside her at the head of the bed before getting up and moving towards Mark’s laundry hamper. She rummaged around inside until she found a pair of his boxers, gave them a quick sniff and tossed them to Lynda.
“You’re going to masturbate for me while you sniff these.”
The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating, as Boone tossed the fabric at her. Lynda caught the boxers, the smell of Mark’s innocence a stark contrast to the perverse situation. She clutched them to her breast.
Her hands trembled as she brought the fabric down, feeling the softness against her skin. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
Boone’s eyes narrowed. “You will,” she said, her voice cold and unforgiving. “You’re going to bring yourself off, and you’re going to call Mark’s name when you come. You’ll do it, or I’ll make sure Mark never looks at you the same way again. If it makes it easier, you can close your eyes while you do it.”
The threat was a dagger to Lynda’s heart, and she knew she had no choice. With trembling hands, she placed the boxers to her face and reached down to touch herself, her eyes never leaving Boone’s. The woman’s gaze was unrelenting, watching every movement with a hunger that made her stomach churn. She closed her eyes in defeat.
She never saw Boone reach down and pick up her phone from the pile of her clothes and start recording.
Lynda’s hand hovered over her sex, her fingers trembling. The smell of Mark’s boxers was faintly reassuring, a comforting scent amidst the horror. Boone’s voice was a harsh whisper, egging her on. “That’s right, think about Mark watching this.”
Her eyes squeezed shut even tighter, trying to block out the reality of the situation. She took a deep breath and forced herself to comply, her hand moving in a slow, tentative circle. The touch was foreign, unwanted, but she had to play the part.
“Good,” Boone murmured, her eyes glued to Lynda’s face. “That’s a good girl.”
Lynda felt the tears well up as she continued the degrading act, her mind racing for a way to end this nightmare. Boone’s voice was a taunting whisper, the sound of her own breathing and the rustling of the boxers against her face a mockery of intimacy. She could feel the woman’s eyes on her, watching her every move, feeding off her humiliation.
With each passing second, the pressure grew. The need to keep Boone satisfied, to protect Mark, was a heavy burden that weighed on her. Her hand moved faster, the fabric of the boxerโs damp with her tears.
“Call for him,” Boone whispered, her voice a seductive hiss. “Call for your sweet boy to save you.”
The fabric of Mark’s boxers was sticky with her tears and sweat, the scent of his innocence tainted by her own degradation. She clenched her teeth, willing herself not to break. But Boone’s words had hit a nerve, and she felt a hot, desperate need to prove her love for Mark, to somehow redeem herself.
“Mar… Mark,” she gasped, her voice trembling. The name was torn from her soul, a desperate plea for salvation that seemed to echo through the room. Her hand moved faster, her body responding despite her mind’s protest.
“That’s it,” Boone murmured, her eyes gleaming with perverse delight. “Call for him.”
Lynda’s hand moved almost involuntarily, her body a puppet to Boone’s twisted whims. “Mark,” she moaned, her voice thick with emotion. “Oh, Mark.”
The sound of her own voice, calling out her son’s name in such a perverse way, was like nails on a chalkboard. But she knew she had to keep going, had to satisfy Boone’s sick demands. The woman’s eyes were glued to her, drinking in every drop of her anguish.
“Mark,” she whispered again, her hand moving faster, the fabric of the boxers clinging to the contours of her face. She could feel the climax building, a wave of revulsion and despair that threatened to consume her. “I’m cumming.”
“Say it,” Boone demanded, her voice a harsh whisper. “Say it like you mean it.”
“Oh, Mark,” she moaned, her voice a forced crescendo of pleasure. “Yes, Mark.”
Boone’s eyes lit up with victory, her hand hovering over the record button on her phone. “Again,” she ordered, her voice a mix of lust and power.
Lynda’s body was a trembling wreck, her spirit shattered into a million pieces. She knew she couldn’t endure much more, but she had to keep playing along for Mark’s sake. With a deep, shuddering breath, she nodded and began to touch herself once more.
“That’s it,” Boone urged, her eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure as she recorded every second of Lynda’s forced humiliation. “Call out for him like you really want it.”
The words cut through Lynda like a serrated blade, her hand moving almost involuntarily against her will. Her thoughts were a tumultuous storm of anger, fear, and despair as she whispered Mark’s name over and over, the boxers a suffocating mask of his stolen innocence.
Boone’s eyes never left hers, the hunger in them growing with every whimper that escaped Lynda’s lips. “Again,” she demanded, her voice a dark caress that sent a shiver down Lynda’s spine. “Beg for it.”
Lynda’s eyes filled with tears as she felt the climax building once more, her body responding despite her soul’s screams of protest. “Mark,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Oh, Mark, please.”
“Come for me,” Boone urged, her voice a seductive purr that made Lynda’s skin crawl. “Come for your boy, slut.”
With a final, desperate push, Lynda’s body obeyed, the climax ripping through her like a storm. The room seemed to spin as she called out Mark’s name, her voice a mix of agony and fake pleasure. She felt Boone’s triumph in the air, a vile energy that made her want to retch.
“Perfect,” Boone said, her voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re really starting to get the hang of this.”
Lynda’s hand fell away from herself, her body limp with the aftermath of the forced climax. She could feel the woman’s eyes on her, watching her with a twisted excitement that made her skin crawl.
“Good girl,” Boone murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re a natural at this.”
Lynda lay there, panting and broken, the taste of her own deceit heavy on her tongue. The room felt suffocating, the air thick with the scent of Boone’s arousal and her own despair.
Finally she opened her eyes and saw that Boone was recording everything.
The realization hit her like a sledgehammer to the chest, stealing her breath away. She had been so focused on her own humiliation. The phone was pointed directly at her, capturing every moment of her degradation.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
Boone looked up from the phone, a smug smile playing on her lips. “Just making sure we have something to remember this little rendezvous,” she said, her voice dripping with malice. “Insurance, you know.”
Lynda’s heart dropped. The horror of the situation had just multiplied. “You can’t,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar in her ears. “Please don’t.”
“Oh, but I can,” Boone said, her tone sweet and patronizing. “And I will. Unless you want to make sure Mark sees this?”
The mention of her son was like a gunshot in the silence, jolting Lynda back to reality. She couldn’t let this happen. Her mind raced for a way to stop Boone, but she was trapped in the woman’s twisted game.
“Please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Not Mark. He can’t see this.”
Boone’s smile grew even more sadistic. “Then you’ll have to be a very good girl for me, won’t you?”
Lynda felt the bile rise in her throat. “What do you want from me?”
Boone set the phone aside and leaned in close, her breath hot on Lynda’s cheek. “Everything,” she murmured, her voice a dark promise. “But for now, let’s keep this our little secret.”
Lynda felt a cold wave of horror wash over her.
“I don’t know about you, but I could do with a shower. Care to join me?”
Lynda’s eyes widened at Boone’s casual suggestion, the fear in her chest threatening to suffocate her. She knew that saying no was not an option, so she nodded weakly.
“Good,” Boone said, patting her cheek. “You’re learning.”
They made their way to the bathroom, the tension thick between them. The room was bathed in a cold, harsh light that made Lynda’s skin feel exposed and vulnerable. Boone turned on the shower, the sound of the water a grim backdrop to the horror that was unfolding.
“Get in.”
The coldness in Boone’s voice sent a shiver down Lynda’s spine as she stepped into the shower, the hot water hitting her skin like a thousand needles. The steam filled the small room, creating a suffocating cocoon around them. Boone stepped in after her, closing the door with a finality that made her want to scream.
“Let’s wash each other, It’s so much more…Intimate.”
Lynda’s stomach churned at Boone’s words as the woman stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with malicious excitement. The water washed over them, mixing with Lynda’s tears, creating a morbid rainbow of despair. Boone’s hands were on her back, soaping up a sponge, and Lynda had to fight the urge to recoil.
“Turn around,” Boone ordered, her voice low and menacing.
Lynda obeyed, the water cascading down her back as Boone began to wash her. The sponge felt like sandpaper on her skin, each stroke a fresh wound. The woman’s touch was invasive, claiming ownership over her body in a way that made her want to scream.
“You’re so soft,” Boone murmured, her hands moving over Lynda’s breasts with a feigned tenderness. “So delicate.”
Lynda bit her lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she endured the woman’s touch. The water stung her eyes, mixing with her tears and blurring her vision. She felt Boone’s hand move lower, caressing her stomach before sliding down to her thighs.
“Spread your legs,” Boone said, her voice a command.
Lynda complied, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. The water streamed down her legs, mingling with the tears that still fell from her eyes. Boone’s hand moved between her thighs, the sponge brushing against her still-sensitive flesh.
“You’re so wet,” Boone whispered, her voice a taunting caress. “Do you want it again?”
Lynda’s entire being screamed no, but she knew the answer Boone wanted to hear. “Y-yes,” she forced herself to say, the lie sticking in her throat.
“That’s my girl,” Boone said, her voice a dark purr. She set the sponge aside and her soapy hands slid down to Lynda’s sex, invading her with a brutal intimacy.
Lynda’s breath hitched as Boone’s fingers began to explore her, the woman’s touch a violation that made her want to crumble into a million pieces. But she held herself together.
“You like that?” Boone asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Lynda forced a moan, the sound hollow and false in the echoing bathroom. Her body was a battleground of emotions, fear and anger warring with the need to survive. She knew she had to play along, to keep Boone satisfied.
Boone’s hands moved with a disturbing tenderness that made Lynda’s skin crawl. She felt the woman’s fingers delve inside her, a cold intrusion that she couldn’t help but flinch from. Boone’s grip tightened, her nails digging into Lynda’s skin.
“Look at me,” Boone demanded, her voice a harsh contrast to the gentle strokes.
Lynda opened her eyes, the water blurring her vision as she met Boone’s gaze. The woman’s eyes were dark with desire, her expression a twisted mix of pleasure and power.
“You’re mine,” Boone whispered, her voice a seductive hiss. “You’re going to come for me again.”
Lynda’s eyes filled with tears as Boone’s fingers moved inside her, the painful pleasure mixing with her disgust. The woman’s thumb circled her clit, a merciless dance that she knew would lead to another forced orgasm.
“Look at me,” Boone repeated, her voice a command that sent shivers down Lynda’s spine. “I want to see your eyes when you come for me.”
Lynda’s eyes met Boone’s, her own filled with a mix of anger and despair. She hated herself for the way her body was responding to the woman’s touch, for the traitorous arousal that was building within her. But she knew that fighting it would only make things worse. With a deep breath, she nodded.
Boone’s grin grew wider as she increased the pressure, her thumb moving in tight circles on Lynda’s clit. The woman’s other hand reached up to cup her breast, her thumb teasing the sensitive peak. The water washed over them, a sadistic balm to the fire burning between Lynda’s thighs.
Lynda’s breath hitched as she felt her body betray her, the pleasure building despite her mind’s screams of protest. Boone’s eyes bore into hers; a silent challenge that made her want to look away. But she knew she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to keep the woman’s twisted desires at bay.
With a whimper, she leaned back into the cold tiles, her hands gripping the shower handle tightly. Boone’s fingers moved faster; the pressure unrelenting. “That’s it,” she murmured, her eyes gleaming with victory. “Come for me.”
Lynda’s body arched as she felt the climax crest over her, the sound of her own voice, forced and fake, echoing in her ears. Boone’s eyes never left hers, the triumph in them making Lynda’s stomach turn. She hated herself for the way she was responding, but she knew it was the only way to protect Mark.
The water continued to rain down on them, the steam thickening as Boone’s grip on her tightened. “Kneel,” she demanded, her voice a low growl.
Lynda’s knees hit the wet tile with a painful crack, the warm water mixing with the cold fear that had seeped into her very core. Boone stepped closer, her soapy body pressing against Lynda’s back, the woman’s intention unfathomable.
Boone pushed her hips forward and her hands gripped the sides of Lynda’s head.
“Open your mouth.”
The words were a cold command that sent a shiver of revulsion through Lynda, but she knew she had no choice. Boone’s soapy fingers slid from her body and she felt the woman’s nakedness above her as Boone guided her own wetness towards Lynda’s mouth.
What happened next, Lynda could never have envisaged in a thousand years. Out of nowhere, Boone started to urinate over Lynda’s face and into her open mouth.
The hot, acidic liquid hit Lynda like a wave of revulsion, filling her mouth and nose, burning her eyes. She choked and gagged, her body fighting the instinct to pull away, to spit out the foulness. But Boone’s grip was like steel, holding her in place as she continued to urinate, her face a mask of twisted pleasure.
Lynda’s mind reeled, her thoughts a chaotic jumble of fear, anger, and despair. The taste was bitter, the smell overwhelming. She could feel Boone’s excitement, her own body shaking with the effort to maintain control.
“Swallow,” Boone said, her voice a cold, detached order. “Swallow it all down.”
Lynda’s eyes watered uncontrollably; her throat tight with the effort not to gag. The warm stream of urine filled her mouth, and she had no choice but to do as she was told. The act was degrading beyond measure, a final act of dominance that left her feeling utterly violated.
Her throat bulged as she swallowed, the taste of Boone’s urine a searing reminder of the depths to which she’d been forced. The woman’s grip tightened, and she pulled Lynda’s face closer to her vagina.
“Lick it clean.” Lynda nearly gagged as she used her tongue to clean the piss from Boone’s sex.
“Good girl,” Boone said, her voice filled with smugness. “You’re learning your place.”
Lynda remained on her knees, the water from the shower mixing with the tears and urine on her face. She spat out the last of the foul liquid, her stomach heaving. Boone stepped away.
“Clean your face, time for you to wash me.”
The words echoed in the small bathroom, bouncing off the cold tiles and hitting Lynda like a slap in the face. She didn’t dare to look up at Boone, her eyes still glued to the floor. The humiliation was almost too much to bear. She stood up and with trembling hands, she reached for the shower head, her body feeling like it was made of lead.
The water washed the last of the urine away, mixing with her tears to create a sad, pathetic stream that swirled down the drain. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come next. When she finally opened them again, she saw Boone leaning against the shower door, watching her with a predatory smile.
“Now, let’s get me clean,” Boone said, her voice a mockery of kindness. “We wouldn’t want to go back to Mark’s room looking like this.”
Lynda’s stomach churned at the mention of her son’s name, the only thing keeping her from collapsing into a sobbing mess on the floor. She nodded mutely, turning the shower head to spray Boone’s body, her eyes focused on the floor as she scrubbed away the evidence of their sickening encounter.
The warm water cascaded over Boone’s skin, creating a glossy sheen that reflected the harsh bathroom lights. Her body was a canvas of cruelty, each curve and line a stark reminder of the power she wielded over Lynda.
“Harder,” Boone instructed, her eyes never leaving Lynda’s face.
Lynda’s hand moved in jerky, forced strokes, scrubbing Boone’s body with the soapy sponge. The woman’s skin was smooth and unmarred, a stark contrast to the turmoil within Lynda.
“That’s it,” Boone said, her eyes gleaming. “Show me how much you want to protect your little boy.”
The words were like a knife twisting in Lynda’s gut, but she couldn’t stop. She scrubbed harder, her movements mechanical, as if her body was no longer her own. Boone’s skin was red and raw under her touch, but she didn’t flinch or protest. The woman reveled in her power.
As the last traces of soap and urine were washed away, Boone stepped out of the shower, leaving Lynda standing under the spray, the water feeling like a million tiny needles on her skin. She knew she had to stay strong, to keep playing along, to keep her son safe.
“Dry me off,” Boone ordered, handing her a towel.
Lynda took the towel, her hands shaking as she began to pat the woman’s skin, careful not to miss a single spot. Each touch felt like a betrayal, a silent admission of defeat. She avoided Boone’s eyes, focusing instead on the task at hand.
“Look at me,” Boone demanded, her voice a whip crack in the steamy air.
Lynda raised her eyes, the towel slipping from her trembling hands. The sadistic triumph in Boone’s gaze made her want to crumble, but she held firm. The woman’s skin was flushed and gleaming, a testament to the power she wielded over her.
“Good,” Boone said, her eyes raking over Lynda’s naked body. “Now, let’s get you dried off.”
The towel was snatched from her grasp and Boone began to dry her off, her movements rough and possessive. Each swipe of the fabric felt like a brand, marking her as Boone’s property.
“Now, let’s take a little nap,” Boone said, her voice a cold command.
Lynda’s eyes widened with shock and horror, but she knew better than to protest. Boone led her to Mark’s bed, her eyes never leaving Lynda’s. She couldn’t help but feel like a broken doll, a plaything for Boone’s sadistic games.
“Lay down,” Boone said, her voice still cold and commanding.
Lynda complied, her legs buckling under her as she lay on the bed, her body feeling like it was made of jelly. Boone climbed in beside her, pulling the covers up over them both. The warmth of the bed was a stark contrast to the chill in the room, a chilling reminder of the horrors that had just transpired.
“Close your eyes,” Boone whispered, her hand stroking Lynda’s hair in a mockery of tenderness.
Lynda obeyed, her heart hammering in her chest. The bed felt like it was closing in around her, the smell of the woman’s arousal still heavy in the air. She could feel Boone’s body pressed against hers, the woman’s breathing even and steady.
Her mind raced, trying to piece together a plan, a way to escape this hell. But every time she thought she had an idea, the image of Mark watching that video played in her mind, a nightmare come to life. She had to endure this for him.
Boone’s hand trailed down her spine, sending a shiver of revulsion through her body. “Good night, slut,” she murmured, her voice a dark promise of more torment to come.
Lynda lay still, listening to Boone’s breathing even out into a deep, satisfied slumber. The silence was deafening, filled only with the echoes of her own racing thoughts and the distant hum of the city outside. She waited, her muscles taut with tension, for what felt like an eternity.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Carefully, she began to inch away from Boone, her body protesting with every movement. The bed felt like it was made of quicksand, pulling her back into the woman’s embrace. But she was determined.
Suddenly, she felt Boone’s hand grab her and pull her back into her naked body.
“Naughty, don’t go anywhere.” murmured Boone sleepily.
Lynda froze, her heart pounding. She forced herself to relax, her eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to convince herself this was all a terrible dream. But the warmth of Boone’s body against her own was a stark reality check.
“Good girl,” Boone murmured, her breath hot on Lynda’s neck. “You stay right here with me.”
Lynda’s heart hammered in her chest, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She felt Boone’s arm snake around her waist, pulling her closer, until their bodies were melded together. The weight of the woman was suffocating, a constant reminder of the prison she found herself in.
The room was eerily quiet, save for the soft patter of rain against the window. The sound was soothing, almost comforting, a stark contrast to the horror that had just unfolded.
After what seemed like and eternity, but was only an hour or so, she felt Boone start to stir.
Her eyes snapped open, heart racing as she felt the woman’s hand travel down her body again. The fear was almost paralyzing, but she had to keep up the charade. Boone’s hand found its way to her sex, stroking her gently.
“Mm, you’re already wet for me,” Boone murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction.
Lynda’s eyes flew open, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the horror in her ears. She hadn’t realized she’d drifted off, but the fear had kept her body tense, and Boone’s touch sent a fresh wave of revulsion through her. She forced a moan, her body trembling under the weight of Boone’s hand.
“Later, darling. I’m hungry. For food I mean. Why don’t we go downstairs and you can make us a bite to eat.”
Lynda nodded, her body a tapestry of pain and despair. She slid out of the bed, the cold air of the room hitting her like a slap. She grabbed Mark’s robe and slipped it on, tying it tightly around her waist. The fabric felt like a flimsy shield against the monster that was Boone.
“I don’t think you need that, I want to admire your beauty.” said Boone as she sat up. Reluctantly, Lynda took off the robe and hung it on the back of Mark’s door.
They descended the stairs, Boone’s hand on the small of Lynda’s back, guiding her like a dog on a leash. The kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of the fridge’s light, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. Boone opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water, downing it in one go.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.
Lynda’s mind raced, trying to come up with something simple yet filling. “I’ll make us some sandwiches,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Sandwiches it is,” Boone said, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. She leaned against the counter, watching as Lynda moved around the kitchen with robotic precision. Each step felt like it was weighing her down, every movement a silent protest.
Her stomach growled in protest, a stark reminder that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. But the thought of food made her nauseous. She tried to focus on the simple task at hand, the mundane act of making a sandwich feeling like a monumental challenge.
Lynda grabbed two slices of bread and slapped them onto the counter, the sound echoing through the quiet house. She could feel Boone’s eyes on her, the woman’s hunger not just for food, but for more power, more control.
“Make it something special,” Boone said, her voice a silky purr. “I’ve got a taste for something… filling.”
Lynda’s eyes darted to the knife block, a flicker of desperation crossing her face before she quickly turned away. She knew she couldn’t risk it, not with Mark’s safety hanging in the balance. Instead, she focused on the task at hand, trying to ignore the woman’s invasive gaze.
“I’ll make us some turkey with avocado,” she said, her voice shaky. “It’s healthy and filling.”
“Perfect,” Boone said, her eyes gleaming. “I do love a good, thick slice of turkey.”
Lynda’s stomach churned at the double entendre, but she forced a smile as she pulled out the necessary ingredients. The knife glinted under the kitchen lights, and she couldn’t help but think of the power it could give her if she just had the guts to use it. But she pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
“Make sure it’s nice and thick,” Boone said, her voice dropping to a seductive growl.
Lynda’s hand trembled as she sliced through the turkey, the sound of the knife cutting through the meat echoing in the tense silence. She tried not to think about the implications of Boone’s words, instead focusing on the simple task of assembling the sandwiches.
As she spread mayo on the bread, her thoughts raced. How much more could she take? How much more of this twisted game would she have to play? The smell of the food was making her stomach turn, but she knew she had to eat. For Mark.
“What’s the matter?” Boone’s voice was mockingly sweet, her eyes watching Lynda’s every move.
Lynda’s hand stilled, the knife hovering over the bread. She took a deep breath, pushing down the bile rising in her throat. “Nothing,” she replied, her voice a forced calm. “Just a bit tired.”
“Well, you’ll need your energy for later,” Boone said, her eyes glinting with malice. “We’re going to have some more fun, aren’t we?”
Lynda’s heart sank as she nodded, her stomach twisting into knots. She placed the turkey slices onto the bread, the tremble in her hand more pronounced than ever.
“Don’t be shy,” Boone said, her voice a sneer. “You know you want it.”
Lynda’s eyes narrowed, but she kept her expression neutral as she added the slices of avocado. She knew better than to give Boone any indication of her true feelings. The woman was a predator, and she’d use any sign of weakness against her.
They ate in silence, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. Each bite felt like a lie, the food tasteless on her tongue. Boone, however, seemed to be enjoying her sandwich, her eyes never leaving Lynda’s face. The woman’s confidence was palpable, and Lynda felt a flicker of anger ignite within her.
After what felt like hours, Boone pushed her plate away. “Alright, my dear, I think it’s time for roundโฆ You know, Iโve lost count. Time really does fly when youโre having fun,” she said, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Lynda’s heart dropped. She knew what was coming next. She’d have to endure more of Boone’s twisted games, all for Mark’s sake. She took a deep breath, willing her legs to support her as she stood up. Boone’s hand slid up her thigh, sending a shiver of disgust through her body.
“Let’s go to the living room,” Boone suggested, her voice a sultry whisper that made Lynda’s skin crawl. “I have something special planned for us.”
Lynda nodded stiffly, her eyes downcast as she followed Boone’s naked figure through the hallway. The living room was dimly lit by the glow of the TV, the blinds drawn tight against the prying eyes of the outside world. The couch looked like a battleground, the cushions scattered and the blanket thrown to the floor. Boone sat down, patting the cushion next to her.
“Come, sit,” she ordered.
Lynda obeyed, her legs shaking as she took a seat beside Boone. The couch felt like a trap, the fabric sticky with the residue of their earlier encounter. Boone’s hand rested on her thigh, a constant reminder of her dominance.
“You know,” Boone began, her voice a soft purr, “I’ve been thinking about our little arrangement.”
Lynda’s heart hammered in her chest, her eyes flickering to Boone’s hand on her thigh. She knew she couldn’t let her guard down, not even for a second.
“And?” she prompted, her voice a strained whisper.
“Well,” Boone leaned in, her breath hot and minty from the toothpaste she’d used after their shower, “I think it’s time to up the ante.” Her eyes danced with excitement, a sick glint that made Lynda’s skin crawl. “You’ve been such a good girl, following my every command. It’s time we take this to the next level.”
“Time for you to put that tongue of yours to good use.” she said as she sat back on the couch. She scooted her butt to the edge of the cushion and spread her legs as wide as possible.
“Get to work.”
Lynda felt a new wave of nausea as Boone’s words sliced through the silence. She knew what was expected of her, the taste of bile rising in her throat as she looked down at the woman’s glistening sex. The scent of their forced union was heavy in the air, a constant reminder of her degradation.
With a deep, shaky breath, she leaned forward, her mouth hovering over Boone’s wetness. The woman’s legs spread wider, a silent demand that sent a shiver of revulsion through her. She closed her eyes, her thoughts focused solely on Mark, on the need to keep him safe.
Her tongue tentatively touched Boone’s skin, the taste salty and foreign. “You’re a bit too high.”
Lynda looked up in bewilderment. She had no idea what Boone meant.
“My asshole, you dumb cunt. Tongue fuck my asshole, I want to feel that tongue going in deep.”
Lynda’s eyes widened in horror, but she knew better than to argue. She shifted her position, moving her face closer to Boone’s spread legs. The taste of bile grew stronger in her mouth as she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.
Her tongue tentatively touched the tight ring of muscle, the sensation making her want to gag. Boone’s grip on the back of her head was like a vice, pushing her face closer.
“That’s it,” Boone groaned, her hips rolling back to meet Lynda’s mouth. “Just like that.”
Lynda’s tongue darted in and out, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to block out the reality of what she was doing. Boone’s breath was hot and heavy in her ear, a constant reminder of the woman’s dominance.
“Fuck me with that tongue,” Boone whispered, her voice a mix of pleasure and control. “Fuck me until I cum.” Boone started to masturbate herself
Lynda’s tongue grew sore, the act feeling more degrading with each passing second. But she couldn’t stop, not if she wanted to protect Mark. She pushed deeper, her tongue moving in a steady rhythm that made her stomach churn.
Boone’s moans grew louder, her body writhing with pleasure. “Yes,” she hissed, her voice tight with lust. “Just like that. Make me cum all over your face.”
Lynda felt a new wave of revulsion wash over her, but she didn’t dare stop. Her tongue pushed into Boone’s ass, the woman’s grip on her hair tightening as she drove her deeper. The smell was overpowering, a mix of sweat and lube, and she had to fight back the urge to pull away.
“More,” Boone demanded, her voice a guttural growl. “I want to feel your tongue in my ass, you fucking whore.”
Lynda’s eyes watered, her throat tight with the effort of holding back her tears. She pushed harder, her tongue probing deeper, the muscles in her neck straining. Boone’s moans grew more frantic, her hips bucking against Lynda’s face.
“Oh, yes,” Boone groaned. “You’re going to make me cum so hard.”
The words were a knife to Lynda’s soul, each syllable a twist of the blade. Her mind was a whirlwind of fear and anger, but she knew she had to keep going.
Boone’s body tensed, and Lynda braced herself for the inevitable. With a final, animalistic growl, Boone’s body convulsed, her orgasm tearing through her like a storm.
As Boone’s grip on her hair loosened, Lynda pulled away, her tongue feeling thick and unwieldy. She sat back on her haunches, her face wet with Boone’s juices.
Boone leaned back against the couch, a smug smile playing on her lips. “Good girl,” she murmured. “You’re learning so quickly.”
Lynda didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. She was numb, her mind a blank canvas of pain and despair. Boone was right; she had learned. She had learned just how much she was willing to endure for her son.
The silence stretched out between them, a yawning chasm of what had been and what now was. Lynda knew she had to get away, to clean herself up, to erase the evidence of what had just happened.
But Boone wasn’t done yet. “Don’t move,” she ordered, her eyes still gleaming with lust. “We’re not finished yet.”
Lynda’s stomach clenched, the fear rising like a tide. What more could Boone possibly want from her? What other depravities could she be forced to endure?
“You’re going to sit there,” Boone said, her voice low and menacing. “And you’re going to think about how much you love your son.”
Lynda nodded, her eyes downcast. She knew better than to argue, to resist. Boone was in control, and she had to play along if she wanted to keep her son safe.
“Good,” Boone murmured, her voice a dark caress. “Because, soon, I’m going to show you just how much I can make you love me.”
The words sent a cold shiver down Lynda’s spine, a promise of more pain and humiliation to come. But she kept her mouth shut, her thoughts racing. She had to find a way out of this hell. For Mark. For herself.
Boone sat there for a few minutes and watched the humiliation on Lynda’s face. Finally she stood up.
“Time for bed.” she declared.
Lynda’s eyes remained cast downward, her body a trembling mess of exhaustion and despair. Boone’s hand was a firm but gentle guide as she led her back to Mark’s room, the irony of the situation not lost on either of them. The room was a minefield of memories, each step a silent scream of violation.
Once there, Boone pointed to the bed. “You’ll sleep with me tonight.” It wasn’t a question, but a command.
Lynda’s legs felt like they might buckle as she climbed onto the mattress, the sheets still warm from their earlier activities. The smell of sex lingered in the air, a constant reminder of her torment. Boone slid in behind her, her body pressing against Lynda’s, her arms wrapping around her waist possessively.
“I want to hear you say it,” Boone whispered into her ear, her breath hot against Lynda’s neck. “Say you love me.”
Lynda’s throat tightened, the words like acid on her tongue. “I…I love you,” she forced out, the lie a bitter pill she had to swallow for her son’s safety.
Boone’s grip tightened, her hand sliding up to cup Lynda’s breast. “Good,” she murmured, her thumb flicking at the nipple. “Now, get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”
Lynda lay there, stiff and unmoving, as Boone’s breathing evened out. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape, of telling someone, of anything that might end this nightmare. But she knew the consequences were too high.
The darkness of the room was a suffocating blanket, the silence a mockery of the peace she desperately craved. Her eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling, as she listened to the sound of Boone’s steady breathing.
She fell asleep sometime during the night despite the turmoil in her mind. Her dreams were tortured.
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