Pay no attention to her

You don't know, neither you care, what she may want from you. Probably she would taunt you again about your sister, and you frankly don't need that now. So you shrug it off and proceed as nothing.

At home, your family notices your dark mood, but you avoid their questions with vague answers. After lunch, you go to your room where you lay down on bed, blankly staring at the ceiling. Slowly, the awareness of what happened this morning reaches you, and you roll on your side in a motion of annoyance. At that moment, someone knocks at the door.

-Big Bro?- Tina peeks in like a fawn from the branches: -Is everything alright? We, uhm, I had the impression that something was bothering you...-.

You stay silent. Her tone becomes more lustful as she gets closer: -Maybe your little sister can help you clear your head...-.

-What if I just want to talk?- You blurt grumpily. She falters and halts.

-Sure, of course. Do you want to talk about something?-.

-No.-.

-O...k... then... I'll leave you alone...-.

She sounds hurt by your behavior, but actually you are a bit pissed off with her: in a sense, it all began when Melissa snitched about her attire, so she has her responsibility too. Or maybe not, you're not lucid enough to say, you just want someone to blame.

-You know, I've talked with Melissa a few days ago.- You say, not sure where you want to go.

-Oh. Ehm, she can be obnoxious at times.- She answers. She also doesn't know what to say.

"Obnoxious" is a euphemism. Though, thinking back at your "encounter" with her of before, you realize that something was off with her tone, like she was... scared? Probably it was part of her plan. You really shouldn't think about it.

-Do you know where she lives?-.

-Melissa? ...I'm not sure actually. Why? Has she told you something...-.

-No reason.- You interrupt her: -Now excuse me, I'll take a nap.-.

She mumbles a "yes, sure", and exits. You, however, doubt that you can sleep right now. For some reason, you are stuck with the idea that you've made a mistake ignoring Melissa earlier. Of course, this thought leads to other things you regret of. Jeremy, William... but sadly you can't think of one that you can remedy.

"Wait." You sit up.

"Maybe there is one.".

You exhale a deep sigh, letting you slide on the mattress in your big, high decorated room. Today as always, the blankets have been washed and scented, and now they perfume like lavender. Now more than ever you are grateful to your servants, even if you still feel guilty that your parents **** them to do it every day. But you hope that they won't be mad if, just for now, you'll focus a little on your own exhaustion instead.

Starting from when you got home by Trish's, the last days have been pretty intense. You have found yourself involved in every initiative of the parish, and even if you have always been very participative, given the importance of your family, during these two days your parents have accompanied you to every celebration, function, or pastoral meeting which had been organized, to which you (obviously) contributed at the best of your potential, with a dignified presence, lots of hands-shaking, and of course by offering your unconditioned help for several commissions. You have smiled so much that now your cheeks are aching. Not that those smiles weren't sincere - you inherited all of the love of neighbor from old Heather: her sense of responsibility towards peoples in need, her strong sense of duty as a kids animator, her passion in every altruistic action she commits - but you doubt you could have carried on further without collapsing.

You brush your hands on the sheets, feeling their pleasant coolness. You'll regret having these insinuating thoughts later, but it's almost as if this is your parents' punishment for the offense Elena's accusations have brought them. Elena... poor woman. Only thinking about the harm you've caused to her, it breaks your heart, and you haven't had time to ask Trish if she had any news. To be honest, you didn't even have time to text Tina, or to do anything else...

-Mmm... ah...- You moan out as your fingers trace your pussy's outline from outside your panties. You already feel guilty for this - you know that it's deeply immoral, against all the Lord's commandments - but you can't hold it anymore, you need some relief, and you need it right now.

-T...Tina... ah...-.

You take off your clothes, your body is already sweating its pleasure and, while you play with your clit with the palm of your hand, you insert your middle finger inside your cunt, fondling it with sloppy sounds.

"Ohh... oh God... please forgive me... forgive this sinner... my flesh is weak ... but feels so good...".

You just hope that no one enters now - that your father doesn't open the door, that he doesn't see you fingering and moaning your best friend's name while soaking your bedsheets with your fluids - ohhh God please have mercy HAVE MER-

-...!!!-.

You open wide your mouth but restrain yourself from screaming. Your body is shaken by a premature, yet powerful orgasm. You rest panting, trying to recover, oh Jesus it felt so good. You strive to cover yourself before it's too late.

DRIIIIN

You jump-scared at that sudden noise, but you recognize it as your phone ringing. You quickly grab it from your bedside table and read Trish's name on it. You answer with bated breath.

-Hey sugar!- Comes her unmistakable voice.

-Mrs. Martinez! I'm glad to hear you! Uh, I hope to find you healthy and that everything is fine!-.

-Oh, you are too thoughtful! And please, call me Trish. I have good news about your maid, but first of all, I wanted to inform you that our photos have served their purpose. Therefore I thank you again, honey.-.

Wait, photos? What photos? What has Tina done when she was you?

-Heather?- She asks, not receiving any feedback from you.

-Uh, yeah, sorry, I'm-I'm happy to learn it. And I apologize again for the inconvenience I am causing you Mrs... I mean, Trish.-.

-Tut-tut, I've said it's fine. About that, I want to inform you that I got her address.-.

-Really?- You light up: -How did you do it?-.

-Oh, it was easy actually. I've tried with a few calls, but then when the postman passed I said to myself, "let's ask him", so I invited him in and gave him a deep...-.

You cover your mouth listening to the following part, which Trish recounts in **** detail. Once or twice, you almost faint.

-I... I see...- You babble in the end.

-About that address...-.

You hear your mom closing the front door, today as every day she'll spend it away from home, and when the evening will come she'll barely talk to you. You knew right away, from the first moment you've absorbed Cindy's memories, that her mother evaluates her job more than her daughter. But today you don't care, you are still astonished by what happened yesterday with Charity.

You didn't fully realize it on the spot, but you did it, for real. Sure, you must convince Kim to accept her body which is (Charity won't get angry for this since it's the factual truth) less pretty than Maria's, and somehow you'll have to deal with having created another person with your powers. But Maria is now safe by Kim's machinations!

Lying on your bed, you hug tightly your pillow against your chest, feeling your breasts being gently squashed on the soft fabric. You grab your phone as if you were hoping you got a message from her, tried by not having been able to see her this morning since she had no class; instead you find an unread message from your boyfriend, James.

I knew you were a fucking slut, but you could have told me that you have slept with Adam too! You made me look stupid when I showed him your nudes, you know? So it's over, it was fun but don't try to contact me again, and delete my number. Have a good life, or not.

You read it again, and then one more time. You say to yourself: it's not that bad, he was your amusement and you his, so you expected such an outcome. But... he has been rougher than expected, that's it. You put down your phone and bury your face on the cushion.

"I shouldn't be sad because of this. He... He's right, isn't he? I'm really a slut, even yesterday I proved it. That's how people see me, just a pair of tits and a vagina. It's not like... it's not like I didn't know this. I sleep with any guy I meet, or I try. And now with Maria, probably it's the same. It's just because Tom likes girls, but it's the same thing. They're right, they are all right about me, this is what I am. I should just... just...".

The doorbell truncates your flow of thoughts, and you lift your head in a jump. It can't be mom, she has the keys. You walk to the door and you open it ajar; then, seeing who he is, you open it with stupor crossing your face.

It's you; that is, the old you.

What I've done to you was terrible, Cindy.

I'm sorry.

Please, don't let it ruin your life.

"This is...".

You moan as Cindy sits you on the couch, having already discarded her clothes except for her underwear. Cindy places herself on your lap, sensually swaying her form before your eyes.

"This is not what...".

She takes off her bra and draws her rosy breasts to your mouth, which closes on her hardened nipple.

-Ahh~~

If she can listen to your thoughts, she won't show it anyway. Your digits clunge the soft flesh of her rear, while hers are rummaging with your belt.

CLICK

She slips it off with a rustle and then she lowers your pants, leaving you agape, with a line of saliva broken between your lips and her tits.

-Cindy, wait...-.

Her mouth wraps your dick and she starts to move vertically, looking at you from below, with eyes pumped with desire.

-I wanted to... I needed to... fuck! C-Cindy...-.

Floppy noises slurp out of her mouth. This is not what you planned for. You just wanted to, to apologize to her, to say to her that you were sorry for-fuck!!!-for how you treated her.

-Why are you doing this? Please, I, urgh!!, listen to me please!-.

She stops indeed, but she cocks up only to kiss you deeply, while unbuttoning your flannel shirt. Your lips, your arms, all your body betrays you, and you reciprocate with passion, holding her close instead of pushing her away.

-P...lease... I'm here... for... you...-.

She pauses for a moment. She looks at you with her big, green eyes. But she doesn't want to talk. No, it's more like at this moment she's not able to talk, like she has degraded from the rank of a human being: no more a person, but just a body with desire. With needs. She needs you, she's saying.

It's all her decision. You're not forcing her or something.

You snort and then start to groan rhythmically while you possess her from behind, being satisfied with her loud moans, ones of a bitch in heat.

"G-God! Why is she behaving like this? I need to be stronger! I want to, to apologize with her for...".

-Awnn!!!-.

For what? For having taken her without her permission, for having treated her like an object? But then, isn't this what she's precisely doing to herself now?

You feel rage growing inside of you, a wave of anger mixed with excitement, you know that she wants you to be furious and now you want it too. She is making fun of you, making fun of your guilt. She's the worse.

-Why don't you let me talk??- You shout, leaning on her ear as you increase your thrusts. She cries as in pain, but there is no trace of sorrow in her voice, just pure and deep pleasure.

This is... so unfair! You felt like shit for what you've done, and instead she wants it again!

Well, let her have it then.

-Fucking slut! You want it, uh??-.

Her yelps are her way to answer "yes", so you give it to her, with all your strength. You lay on your side, dragging her with you, grabbing one of her boobs from behind while keeping her leg spread with the other hand.

Yes, keep on! Prove me that I'm a slut! I'm a filthy slut, I'm your filthy slut!!!

You're daydreaming, you can almost hear her beggings beyond those frenzied pupils. You are strained too, your emphasis can't last too long. So you sit down, such in a way that she'll now have to do most of the work. Which she obligingly does. While she's moving ascending and descending on your rod, she takes you by your head, pressing it against her bosom, while you rub her clit. That attack from several sides sorts the effect of making her moan more vehemently, you wouldn't be surprised if her neighbors knocked at any moment complaining about the noises.

The more you see her like this, the less you consider her human, it gets more and more difficult to remember even her normal voice; the image of your sister's shallow friend is completely separated from the howling beast on your groin. And you feel that she likes it. She wants you to call her like that. And you do, several times, in several different ways.

With a strength that you didn't know you had, you grab her by her ass and push her up and down, forcing her to follow your pace, so much so that she has to hold on to the back of the sofa so as not to lose her balance. If you could hear yourself from the outside, you wouldn't recognize your voice from your animal gruntings.

-Ohh! Ohh! Fuck me!!! FUCK ME!!!- She squeals, regaining the gift of the word only to cast curses and ravings.

You're on the verge of an orgasm. You don't even think about pulling it off - you want to seal the property you have on her, breeding her, screw the consequences - so you shift positions for the last time, laying her on the pillow and burning your dick all inside her vulva.

God, God, GOOODD!!!!

You cum together, your fluids mixing inside her uterus. Although you are now trained for intense fucking, you are out of breath; but instead of falling, you stand up and don your clothes. You look one last time at the supine woman on the couch.

-There's something rotten in you.- You mumble delirious, and you leave her house.

You're laying on the sofa, drained out like a dry river, warm liquid leaking out of your pussy.

"I... I give up...".

Your vision flickers as tears stream down your upturned forehead. You didn't care why he was here. You don't care about anything, anything out of sex. How you are now, this state - this is what you deserve, this is what you truly are. Who cares if Cindy or Tom is on the wheel, it's more than your identity, it's your nature.

On the ocean of things you've ruined, is there a single drop of good you've done?

No. You are a walking doom for people. A sweet, delightful doom. But still that.

-I want to be happy...- You cry: -There must be someone... anyone... anyone that can save me...-.

-Please...-.