Hallway Bath

Katrina leads you by the hand out into the hallway and past Amanda's doorway, surprising you. Seeing the look on your face, she smirks and says, "Oh, no, sissy. 'Manda or I decides which bathroom you use from now on, and she doesn't want you anywhere near hers any more.

This would be really annoying if it wasn't coming on the heels of so much worse. "Amanda's" bathroom is actually the common bath between your bedroom and hers. It's a much bigger, nicer one than the guest bath in the hallway, and it seems she's decided to ban you from it. You grit your teeth for a moment, then ... decide to let it go. After all, you have some rather more serious matters to worry over than use of a shared bathroom right now. You look back at your sister's bedroom door, flashes of last night's events floating disjointedly through your mind. Why ... why had you let all that happen? There must have been something you could have done to stop them, or at least slow them down ...

Katrina tugs at your wrist, then slaps your left ass cheek, making you wince and jump. "Move it, sissy," she orders.

In the hall bathroom, she starts the shower, then takes the hot pink boyshorts out of your hand. "On your fours," she orders.

You get down on your hands and knees, looking at her half-curiously, half-fearfully. She smiles down at you and presses down on your shoulders with her foot until your chest hits the floor and then, kneeling between your shoulder blades, reaches down and pulls your arms straight back until they lie flat on the floor, wrists just about even with the tops of your calves. "Ass up, baby. Arch your back for me, there's a good girl."

You comply as best you're able. It's an uncomfortable position, one cheek on the floor and your so-recently-violated ass on display, but ... but this is Katrina, the girl you've liked, one way or another, basically forever, and besides, better to do as she says than anger her ... and Amanda and her ... thugs ...

"Good girl," she repeats, rising to her feet and patting your bottom, "From now on, this is the position we mean when we say 'On your fours.' Do try to remember it; I don't want to have to punish you, Marcie, but I can't say the same for 'Manda or especially Alex or Lilly. Okay?"

You gulp and nod, feeling a finger circling your swollen little rosebud ... and then suddenly feeling it disappear. She slaps your sore ass cheek once more.

"Yes, Miss Katrina," she orders, "Say it."

You hesitate, finding it hard to believe this is the same girl you'd considered a friend for so long. Had your sister gotten to her somehow, infecting her with her dislike for you? Was this some kind of peer pressure run amok? Or had she just changed ... changed dramatically ... in the past few years? Did she even like you at all any more?

Well, apparently she liked you enough to consider your pleasure ... to suck you off while the rest of Amanda's thugs were forcing themselves onto and into you ...

She slaps you again, startling you out of your reverie. "Sorry! Y-yes, Miss Katrina, I ... understand."

"Good. Now, turn your head to face the door. I'm going to clean you up and make you pretty for today's fun, and YOU are no longer allowed to look at girls without permission."

You turn your head as Katrina has ordered. Of course, being ordered to look away when she's right there ... when you can HEAR her getting undressed, maybe only inches away, puts your imagination into overdrive; every time she moves, you clearly visualize another piece of clothing falling away, another expanse of skin or other, more intimate flesh exposed. It's pure ****, and by the time she says, "All right, on your feet, facing the door," you're fully hard again.

You rise, not daring to try to look at het. You're not afraid, or not JUST afraid of another slap to your still-tender ass; you also recall waking with her hand holding your erection and don't want to spoil whatever game she wants to play next.

You hear the shower start and begin to feel steam billowing around you before Katrina takes hold of your hips, turning you to face the shower and remaining behind you all the while. She presses you into the shower stream, stepping in behind you and then turning you so your back is to the water.

She takes hold of your slightly-too-long hair and pulls back and down, forcing it into the warm water, then takes a bottle of girly, floral-scented shampoo and begins rubbing it into your scalp.

"I meant what I said, you know," she says, her fingers working at your locks and your scalp, "You're not allowed to look at girls--ANY girls, not just us--without permission from one of us. Understand?"

You gulp and nod, discomfited by the recurring thought that this isn't going to end with the weekend. Then you realize Katrina has stopped scrubbing your hair and is standing very still, apparently waiting for something.

"Yes, Miss Katrina," you say quietly, reddening around the ears.

The scrubbing restarts. "Good boi," she says, "And don't worry; we'll let you look once in a while, at least enough to learn how to worship us properly."

She rinses your hair, then rubs in an equally flowery-smelling conditioner. "We'll let that soak in for a while; you really need to learn proper hair and skin care, hon."

She wets a washcloth under the shower stream and squeezes another floral liquid, body wash this time, into it before beginning to rub your back with it. You relax into it, ignoring the flowery scent and just enjoying the strength of her fingers as they dig into the muscles of your back, and then lower down, into your ass muscles. You groan in appreciation, causing her to giggle. Then the washcloth moves between your ass cheeks. A cloth-covered finger invades your asshole, causing you a brief, pained gasp, and then pulls away again.

"Eww, Marcia! That's disgusting," she exclaims, "You need lessons in keeping your pussy clean too, apparently. Don't move while I get a clean cloth!"

She retreats from the tub/shower combo, leaving you in a quandary over whether to follow her order, rinse the stinging soap out of your battered asshole, or try to sneak a peek at Katrina's nude form. In the end, you decide to stealthily pull your ass cheeks apart in an attempt to rinse down there while you attempt to get a look at Katrina through the glass of the shower doors without moving your head.

You are only minimally successful at either task, gaining only a fogged, blurry vision of Katrina's back and bottom, and directing a stream of water at your sphincter muscle without appreciably reducing the sting.

Even the blurry sight of her ass, though, is well worth the risk; you find yourself all-too-briefly touching yourself, hardening even more ... before Katrina spoils your fun by finding a fresh facecloth and turning back to the shower.

Returning to her previous position behind you, she soaps the new cloth and reaches around you, soaping your chest and belly ... and then reaching lower. Since she's currently pressing her breasts against your back and her pubic bone against your ass, the results are fairly predictable.

She wraps the warm, soapy cloth around your stiff prick. "We're gonna have to do something about this," she coos, lowering the cloth to wrap your balls and reaching around to wrap her other hand around your shaft, making you gasp and twitch against her. "You like that, babe?" she chuckles.

Unable for the moment to form words or, for that matter, much in the way of coherent thought, you merely nod enthusiastically and press yourself back against her. She laughs again, this time her signature giggle, and says, "Then beg for it, Marcie. Beg for more."

For a moment you wonder where your self-respect disappeared to, but her slick, soapy hand feels so good ... and if you're honest with yourself, you've gotten more action, one way or another, in the last twelve hours than in the eighteen years that preceded them. You beg, and you mean every word.

"Oh, God, yes ... yes PLEASE keep doing that. Please, I ... I need it so bad ..."

"You only need what we decide you need, baby," she corrects you, though she doesn't stop tugging your unit.

"Please, I want this so bad ... please, I'll do anythi ..." and wuth that, you erupt, splattering the shower wall, Katrina's hand, and your own belly. Suddenly unable to support yourself fully, you sag against the shower's wall.

Katrina pulls away from you and steps back, apparently into the shower's stream again. After a few moments, she tells you, "Okay, clean your legs, underarms and face, then climb on out; we've still got a lot to do before we go out today." She then climbs out of the shower and wraps a towel around her torso before turning to watch you finish cleaning yourself.