Party Favor Pt. 03

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Author’s note; This story contains scenes of increasingly less reluctant lesbianism.


I was naked and on my bed within minutes of getting home. Satisfying the aching need for relief my afternoon of performing cunnilingus had created was my first priority.

Around me lay my trusty vibrator, the slim one I’d used last night, the buttplug Olivia had given me, Angela’s thong, and, of course, Sofia’s still slightly damp set of lacy, white panties. I had planned on putting them in the hamper, as I had with Angela’s knickers last night, but I quickly gave up the farce once I held them in my hand. I was alone, no one would know what a pervert I was, and I didn’t want to waste the potency of their aroma, as disgusting as that was to admit.

I thought I had reached a low point last night, but as I lay there with my sex throbbing in anticipation, I knew I had descended to a new level of depravity. I forced myself to admit that I was helplessly addicted to my newly discovered craving for pussy. And yet, I was still so repressed and ashamed of my urges that I had retreated to private masturbation using soiled underwear as a substitute for reality.

I was a good looking girl and knew plenty of lesbians. Hell, even my best friend was bisexual! Surely I could text any of them and they’d be down with coming over and giving me some bi-curious playtime with no strings attached! If I wanted anonymity I could use Tinder, or even go to a Dyke bar, there were plenty in L.A. Acting on my desires should be easy for someone like me. It’s not like I wanted a relationship, I just wanted a girl to make me cum. That’s all I craved and I believed that this unrequited need was what was driving me to the sick, perverted, and unhealthy obsession with panties and masturbation that had reduced me to this disgusting state.

Yet, I couldn’t do it. The “it” being going out and getting laid by a woman. That midwestern and wholesome part of me found the idea of actively experimenting, if I could still call my cravings that, as too big of a step. It would mean I took the initiative and sought out women, versus my current state where I’d rationalized with myself I was doing all this just for my new job.

It was too big a cliff to leap off of right now, and I brought Angela’s knickers up to my face again for a lingering sniff. Her scent was fading, I thought with some dismay, and I raised Sofia’s lacy panties up and crinkled my nose in feigned disgust at the relative strength of her odor, full of her earthy copper musk. My sex twinged and I groaned in self-disgust as I felt my body grow warm in eagerness.

Why did this turn me on so?

I pulled my laptop from my nightstand and turned it on, praying it was working today as the battered antique was on its last legs. I was soon browsing porn and felt my stomach roil in a mix of lust and fear as I started scrolling through lesbian videos. I’d never watched the genre before, and, frankly, usually didn’t watch a lot of porn videos while masturbating, preferring stories or my imagination. My heart was soon racing and my sex tingling, my arousal welling forth as one hand idly began to tease myself.

Lesbian porn was fascinating, and definitely arousing. Part of my turn on was how shameful I felt as I viewed the scenarios. With no cocks visible, it was all just gorgeous women, boobs, and lots and lots of pussy. My own knowledge of intimate female anatomy had broadened greatly in just two days, but seeing all the various shapes, sizes, colors, and grooming styles of vulvas that appeared on my screen was mesmerizing.

My vibrator had replaced my fingers. I bent my knee and jammed my heel against the vibe’s base to keep it in place as my slippery natural lubrication kept threatening to have it buzz out on its own. One hand idly tapped my clit as I browsed, trying to decide what I liked the most. My shameful dirty panties were tucked next to my head, so wafts of feminine musk floated to my nose anytime I turned my face. I was so turned on, even with the vibrator on low, that I was worried I might come at any time.

And of course, what ultimately caught my eye was a lesbian domination film. An older dominatrix had tied up and was sexually abusing a younger blonde with big breasts. The parallels with Angela and myself were obvious and I was quickly intrigued. The girl was bent over a desk, her hands cuffed and pulled forward. Her legs were tied the corners of the desk, forcing them to be spread wide, and the Dominatrix had just finished whipping her ass cheeks into a polka-dotted galaxy of red splotches.

The camera panned on the girl’s gaping sex as her ass cheeks were spread. I felt her misery, imagining that scenario as I had held myself open for Angela yesterday. I’d done it today in fact, for Sofia and Olivia as well. I guess I was pretty good at that pose. A finger was inserted in the girl’s ass, testing it, before a buttplug appeared in frame.

A buttplug! I paused the video and hastily Demetevler Rus Escort sat up. I’d forgotten the order to start to stretch my ass out. As huge as that toy still seemed, I knew it was in my best interest to try and get ready in case my ass was tested on Saturday night. I grabbed some lube from my bedside table and placed the laptop at the foot of the bed.

Facing the screen on my knees, I lubed my tight ring up as best I could, working up to the point that two fingers seemed to glide into my ass with no friction. The plug was lubed up next and I bent forward and rested on one elbow as I placed the tip of the plug’s onion bulb at my pucker. I pressed play on the video and begin to slowly circle and rock the plug against my hole in nervous anticipation.

“Get in there, you can do it,” I groaned to myself as I pushed harder. On the screen, the blonde sub’s ass was easily parted by an even larger buttplug. I was amazed at the ease with which she swallowed it, the Dominatrix even pulling it out and pushing it back in several times with little resistance as her asshole dilated easily. The girl squirmed and shuddered, her cries filling my room as I turned up the volume.

Inspired, I pushed harder, but found only more resistance. I fought the urge to muscle the plug in, and tried to breathe slowly and deeply. Finally, after minutes of gentle pushing and wriggling, a deep exhale timed with a paradoxical tightening of my sphincter muscle did the trick. My ring gaped open and stayed relaxed enough to for me to bury the plug in fully to it’s flared base.

“Oh my GOD!” I screamed out in surprise.

On screen, the scene had progressed well ahead of me, with the dominatrix greedily devouring the sub’s dripping cunt while her hand fucked the girl’s ass with the buttplug. I felt so full and stretched that I wondered if I could get the plug out now, let alone fuck myself with it. The sensation was frankly uncomfortable at first, and I fought a panicked urge to try and remove it. Anal, at least big anal like this, clearly wasn’t for me. Fucking myself with the plug was unthinkable and I rocked on my knees for a bit, trying to figure out what to do. Eventually, the action on the screen distracted me and I soon found myself fingering my snatch and watching the poor girl get helplessly abused on screen.

“What a fucking slut!” I cried out to myself as the girl was forced to hold her buttplug in her mouth while the Dominatrix had begun to tongue her ass instead. It was filthy and disgusting, something I’d never do, but I couldn’t deny that it was arousing to watch right now. More than anything, the fact that the Dominatrix could do anything she wanted to this helpless girl, and not only would she not protest, but even gladly comply, was profoundly exciting. The parallels with my own helpless obedience and submission to Angela’s will was unavoidable.

I wasn’t that dirty of a slut, though. No way!

I was still bent forward, ass in the air, so I decided to sit back again. As soon as my ass hit the bed, I remembered I still had a buttplug inside me. Somehow, I’d gotten used to the feeling of it and now felt a warm rush of pleasure shoot through my body. Okay, maybe I could get to like this anal stuff! I shifted around, enjoying the stimulation it gave me as I settled back into the bed.

I was ready to cum and making a mess of my comforter with my overflowing juices. I arranged my precious soiled panties around my head again, then impulsively draped Sofia’s over my nose, and placed the laptop at my side and unpaused the movie. The vibe slipped back into my neglected pussy and I signed in contentment at the profound feeling of fullness I had down below.

“Mhmm, suck my cunt, you bitch!” I cried out to no one in particular. My mind imagined a woman between my thighs giving me the deep waves of pleasure that were building. One hand reached under my ass and began to push on the base of the buttplug, giving it a gentle in and out pressure that started a nice warm ball of pleasure centered on my asshole. The other hand rubbed my clit gently, my fingers pushing my wayward vibrator back into me as every little spasm in my passage threatened to eject it given my copious lubrication. It wouldn’t be long now! The dominatrix had flipped the girl over and was now sitting on her face, rubbing her slit into the helpless girl’s mouth as her slave ate her out of self-preservation. “Eat me out, you dirty bitch!”

My mobile phone started ringing.

“Fuck! Yes.. No, Shit!” I screamed out as I teetered on the edge, Sofia’s scent filling my nose and driving me crazy with lust. A quick glance at my phone on the table next to me revealed it was Angela! I let out a huge groan of agony.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The vibrator squirted out, I paused the porn movie with a wet finger, the panties were pulled from my face, and I even tried to straighten my disheveled hair for Otele Gelen Rus Escort some reason. I felt like a girl caught in the act by her mother, and picked up the phone nervously. I was so close to coming that my muscles felt jerky and uncoordinated, my breathing ragged. Taking a deep inhale, I pressed answer and tried to speak in a normal tone.

“Darling, are you alright? You sound gassed,” came Angela’s posh British accent.

I was indeed panting.

“Oh, yes. I just ran up the stairs and you rang when I entered,” I answered, blushing.

“Very well,” Angela sounded doubtful. “Olivia said she got you kitted out, which is quite a relief.”

“She was very helpful, thank you for fronting me the costs,” I answered.

“Not a bother a all. Sofia cut your bill in half, so you made a good impression there. It came to only four thousand dollars, and change.”

I was speechless. That was months of rent and money I absolutely didn’t have. My bank account hadn’t contained that much since I received that tampon commercial check, and that balance had disappeared quickly. Four thousand dollars and Sofia had reduced my bill by half!? I wanted to throw up.

“Don’t worry, it’s worth the investment and you’ll get tips to cover it this Saturday, I promise. If you don’t, I’ll cover the difference,” continue Angela after realizing I wasn’t capable of speaking.

“Th-thank you!” I spat out at last.

“I need to talk to you on a different matter. What did you tell your friend, Samantha, about your new job?” Her tone was suddenly serious. My heart was racing again as I tried to recollect our conversation.

“Nothing. I told her it wasn’t for me, implying that I turned you down.”

“Hmm. Did you also ‘imply’ that I ran a lesbian call-girl outfit? She called me today, insisting that I reconsider as she is evidently bisexual.”

“NO!” I answered, a bit too emphatically. “I-I mean, I told her that I gathered there might be some female clients and that wasn’t for me. I was just trying to be discreet, to throw her off the scent with a reason why I would turn it down.”

Angela’s knickers were in my hand, speaking of scents, and I was kneading them like a stress ball.

“I think you need to use your head a bit more before you use your tongue. Trying to be discreet by spreading negative lies isn’t very helpful to us, is it? We’d rather not have her running her mouth off to anyone who will listen about lesbian call-girls, would we?”

I assured her that I agreed.

“How will you explain your new agent? Your new hair color? Quitting your job at Starbucks? Your new clothing? Your new apartment when you get one, which I assume will be soon? Or even if you have a girlfriend in the future, when you are supposed to be straight?”

She was right, I realized in horror. I hadn’t thought any of this through. I couldn’t deceive Samantha with the amount of change that was going to happen, or any of my friends for that matter. My mind spun, but I couldn’t think of a reply.

“I-I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think about all of this,” I answered. Icy silence greeted my words. I fished for a response and said the only words that came to mind. “Could you give me some advice, Angela?”

“It’s always smart to ask for advice,” Angela said cooly. “Please do come to me when in doubt. You’ll learn soon enough, but lying never works out in the long-term. Your lies get bigger and bigger, large ones covering little ones, and soon you wind up with no integrity with even your closest friends. I value discretion, but only people with integrity can be discreet.”

I agreed heartily, exhaling in relief that she wasn’t going to fire me for being an idiot.

“For Samantha, and all your friends, you have to be honest, but oblique,” she continued. “Tell her that I’ve signed you to ACA, and that I liked your work on that indy film, which is all true. If she asks about the parties, tell her that you have refused to do anything you consider immoral. For the hair, I’ve made it clear that a condition of your signing was an image makeover. You’ll be getting enough casting calls in the coming months to make her realize that your career is really gaining traction. Please try not to spend the money from hosting parties in any flashy way until you land a role that could explain some of it.”

When she said it, her answers sounded so simple and believable, but also skirted close enough to the truth that I wouldn’t be lying. And for the parties, if I just told Samantha I wouldn’t do anything that I considered immoral, I’d be technically truthful. There was no need to tell Samantha that my morals had significantly lowered in the last couple days.

“And for the lesbian sex and girlfriends, tell her you are doing research for a role first. In fact, I’ll be contacting you next week about a lesbian role that might be a good fit. It’s for a TV show that is green lit Balgat Rus Escort for a pilot, and on ShowTime. Later on, after some flings, you can admit you really are a lesbian.”

“Wow, thank you Angela!” I gushed. “That sounds amazing! But, I don’t think Samantha or any of my friends will be asking about lesbian sex and girlfriends, though. I don’t expect that to be something that they would notice, right? My work with you will be discreet, as we just discussed.”

Her advice there confused me. I wasn’t going to start dating girls anytime soon, if ever. I certainly hoped that Samantha would never find out I apparently had an insatiable appetite for pussy. That side of me was for the parties and patrons, behind closed doors!

“I want you to adopt the public persona of a lesbian, for your career,” answered Angela simply. I felt a cold stab of fear lance through my body. “Not for my parties. I suppose you can be bisexual or straight, or whatever there, although it’s best to appeal to patrons of both sexes I’ve found.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, hoping I misunderstood.

“You heard me, darling,” Angela said, some annoyance in her voice.

“Why?” I asked. I was terrified now, but my sex was tingling suddenly, like my body found the idea exciting.

“You aren’t a generic blonde bimbo anymore. Starting tomorrow you will be a brunette and I’m tearing down your old image completely. I’m going to have you play a new role to fit that new hair color, one designed to be memorable to casting and talent directors. You are going to develop into an angsty, intelligent, and quite proud lesbian. If you are uncomfortable with ruling out men entirely, I suppose I’m fine with you being a bisexual that has overt homosexual preferences. I’m arranging a celebrity girlfriend in the near-term to get you some press. Then we’ll have you come out officially at some point and you should be very vocal about your sexuality afterwards in interviews. I’ll draft the talking points, but the usual stuff like how it’s changed your approach to your craft, freed you from repressed emotions that stunted your acting range, etc. This is how you’ll stand out. This is how you’ll get the real roles. This will be how you get taken seriously.”

“B-but…” I began. My mind was spinning. Celebrity girlfriend? Press? My family would know. EVERYONE would know!

I blurted out my next words by reflex.

“I’m not a lesbian!”

“Really?” Her drawl was cutting, the British accent making it even more scathing.

I had no immediate response. After what I’d done yesterday, last night, and this afternoon, how could I deny it? Even now, as she spoke with me, I was naked and masturbating to lesbian porn with a pair of her used panties in my hand. And I’d been sniffing them.

Was I a lesbian? If so, how had she known?

“I-I guess, I don’t want to be a lesbian,” I said at last, no longer trying to deny her label. Tears threatened to well at the corners of my eyes.

Silence greeted my words.

“I just want to be straight,” I added with a slight sniff.

“That’s the real rub, isn’t it?” Angela said at last, a soft sigh following her statement. “Darling, it’s so clear that this is the best route for you, both for your career and personal happiness, so you need to trust me. Your current identity has just been a role as well, hasn’t it? The straight blonde bimbo? Don’t deny it! Consider this a new role that will make your career successful. If you don’t like it, you can always go back to being straight.”

Her words echoed Olivia’s comment about my hair color. It wasn’t that simple, though, and we both knew it.

“I-I need to think about this,” I said finally. “Can I have some time?”

“I’m sorry but you have to commit, nothing I’m planning works otherwise. You can have a day or two to sleep on it, but I need to know before the party Saturday night. If you can’t pull off this role, I’m not sure I can represent you,” continued Angela, her words knifing into my heart. “And for the party this weekend, I now need to believe that you can play at least a bisexual role with total confidence as it’s a special event. I can’t take any risks with you getting cold feet since you seem so upset about being labelled as a lesbian.”

“The party I can do,” I replied perking up a bit. I could be as slutty a lesbian as she desired in private, that I already knew! “I can definitely pull being a lesbian off at the party!”

“Can you though?” Angela seemed doubtful. “Very well, let’s have a test then. Tomorrow night I want you to go out and try your acting skills. I want you to seduce a woman and, of course, have sex with her. But I want the woman to be a stranger that you pick up at a bar, not a friend. Show me you can do that and I’ll feel a lot better about overcoming your hangups, and maybe I’ll reconsider and even have you identify as a bisexual publicly instead of a lesbian.”

I had another stab of fear, but also some hope. Maybe if I accomplished this one challenge I could convince her that I didn’t have to publicly become a lesbian? That I could remain a straight girl, perhaps one with some bisexual flings for notoriety?

I clung fervently, like a life preserver, to the hope that if I could perform this one small task it might somehow save me from my bigger concern. And I’d get laid by a girl as a bonus. I could do this!

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