Sisterhood of Sin 13 The Cousin Who Isn t
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Sisterhood Of Sin -- 29 -- Unmasked free porn video
My pussy tingles with anticipation as we pause outside his room. We wore burqas past all the hotel security cameras. Only one can see us now, but it's at the far end of the hall. Marta screens me from that as I remove my burqa and quickly don my ball mask. I knock on the room door and when the door swings open, I delight at his look of surprise. "Good evening, Sir. Your loving wife sent us. May we come in?"
We don't wait for an answer. I open my trenchcoat to reveal my naked body and push my husband backwards into his room, hugging and kissing him as we go. Marta secures the door and pulls her burqa off. She is almost as naked as me. We're both wearing stockings and pumps. Mine are matching black and hers are matching dark green. We're both wearing masks. Hers is a green bandit mask. The only other thing she's wearing is her pistol in a holster strapped to her thigh. She quickly strips the holster off and sets it on the nightstand beside the bed.
"Dan, this is Marta. You might have seen her providing security for Barbie. She looked a bit different until today."
"Hello, Marta. You're every bit as beautiful as Cate said you were."
"Thank you, Sir. Would you like to watch me having sex with your loving wife?"
"Uh, wow. Yes, please do."
I love how he knew to call me Cate on this special occasion. Marta and I strip the covers off the king size bed and crawl on. This is a first time for us. Dan had given Marta the green light to have sex with me when we were in St. Paul arranging the slave trade, but fate, and Marta's ethics, postponed any action on becoming more intimately familiar with this woman whom I was coming to see as much more than a bodyguard. Among all of the turmoil of the previous two days since the flight from St. Paul, I researched the topic of Marta's perceived personality disorder. I have decided to give my own name to it. I'm calling it 'paladin personality disorder'. It took some doing, and most of the information came from Bethany and sources she relied on, but I believe that I have a pretty good understanding of Marta now.
My preliminary belief was that Marta was likely placing too much emphasis on a teen suicide attempt and using it as an excuse for social awkwardness or inability to get along with others. I knew girls who had made half-hearted attempts, drama queens looking for sympathy. But I discovered that adolescent suicide attempts fall into two major categories. The overwhelming majority are a cry for help. It's not that uncommon in adolescent girls. Most of those happen in mid-adolescence.
The remaining small percentage are the result of abject despair over the realization that the remainder of their life will be defined, at least in the mind of the victim, by a usually brief but very intense period of abuse. Most of those happen in late adolescence. These are young almost women who were tortured, forced to do unthinkable things, or worse, darker fates than I think I could survive. These are the kind of things that could cause psychotic breaks. For these people, a successful suicide attempt can truly be a blessing.
Marta's attempt somehow failed and it changed her at a fundamental level. Maybe someday I will hear her story. I have no right to it, and I suspect her code prevents her from telling it for personal gain. Bethany knows at least part of the story, but Marta would not permit her to reveal it, and it is clear that Bethany has a very profound respect for Marta's privacy on the matter. Bethany's advice is only, "Trust her. You will never find a more loyal friend in this world." Her use of the term 'this world' alerts me, but she won't elaborate.
But it is Marta's failed suicide attempt, occurring in late adolescence, when a normal teenager, as Marta probably had been, would be very near the cusp of reasonably full emotional development, that took the sudden and overwhelming emotional abuse that she had suffered, left her with her first rate intellect intact, burned out any belief in an afterlife, and triggered a conviction to spend the rest of her life adhering to a mysterious evolving code of honor of her own design, while combating something, some aspect, source, or cause of the abuse that made her capable of extreme violence against herself or others as readily as she would eat a sandwich. And she has attached herself to me with an understanding of me that was derived from my published stories.
There are two reasons why I'm not particularly alarmed. The first is that Bethany trusts her, and I know from my research that Bethany has her ninjas interviewed by a trustworthy psychiatrist. The second is that even with her ability to defeat a lie detector, I could detect genuine love for her child, and concern for whether I would be making a mistake if I got involved with her, and a little bit of pique at me for giving her a pet name right in the middle of a serious discussion about whether I should risk getting closer to her. If she meant me harm, I doubt that I would have been able to get under her skin so easily.
I called it 'paladin personality disorder' because a paladin exhibits extreme dedication to a cause, a person, or even just a goal or task, but within their personal code of honor, they can be the most dependable, reliable, and fanatically supportive friends to have. Bethany does her best to match the personalities of her bodyguards to the sisters they are charged with protecting, and she always did her best to be available for me, but when the addition of new recruits brought the need for each of us to have our dedicated body guards, Marta was the first name that came to Bethany. I asked her why that was, and her reply was, "She's the only one who can handle all the weird shit you get into."
So during the two days it took to decide first that Cate Blanc must die and then how to implement Marta's suggestion of how to do the deed, I completed my research, had some brutally frank conversations with Marta and then proposed an arrangement to her. She would play the role of bodyguard and provide real security in my post-Cate life, but she would also continue to be a sounding board and a contributor of ideas, as she had been for the slave trade, and for the death of Cate. She accepted the proposal with a joke. "Can I call you Kemo Sabe?"
And then the really frank discussion occurred. She initiated it. "I want to have sex with you, Catherine."
"I've been hoping for that. I have a lot of business travel coming up and I get awfully lonely and awfully horny after a day or two without Dan. I also like to cuddle up to someone when I sleep, and you would be very pleasant to cuddle with."
She gets the same shy smile she had when I joked about the cavity search in Canada. "I can provide that service. No charge. And don't worry, I don't get jealous or possessive. I can have almost as much fun imagining you with Lini or Mindy as I can have with you. And some of the other bodyguards, when you meet with other Red Council sisters, we don't exactly stay celibate either. Beth knows how to keep us happy."
"Good that's settled then. What about men? We have an opportunity to drop in on Dan tonight. He's traveling and he's probably anticipating a gift. I would love to give us to him."
"I like men. Especially men like Dan. Just straight sex. I normally like to be on top. With a guy like Dan, I can be a little more submissive. With men in general, unless I'm getting paid, no big cocks, no oral, no anal, no brutality, no pain, no dress up, pretty much nothing other than clothes off, fuck, clothes on."
"What's special about Dan?"
"He's respectful. No macho posturing. He's kind of...", the shy smile comes back, "...fatherly."
I chuckle. "I won't tell him that you said that."
Dan probably assumed that a gift would be coming tonight, but he didn't know it would be personally delivered by me.
"You've been through a lot today, Cate, let's start with a neck and shoulder rub for you."
I know what she's doing. The sensual rubbing of her coarse flame orange pubic hair on my ass just seems to happen as she rubs the strain out of my muscles.
I look over at Dan watching us, an obvious bulge growing in his slacks. He's still wearing his dress shirt, but he's ditched the tie for the evening. "You're way overdressed Dan, you won't be invited in wearing all that."
Marta lifts one knee and I roll over onto my back. She's kissing me now and her soft lips and smooth face are such a contrast to Dan's. Her hand snakes down to my pussy as mine comes up to stroke her breast. Of course she finds me wet and dips her finger deep into my honey pot. We look over to see Dan coming onto the bed. "May I suck your cock, Sir"
"Yes, Cate."
To my surprise, he angles himself so that he's facing my feet, so he can watch Marta as she drops her face down to my pussy. I tilt my head back and suck Dan's cock in. I pull his hips and he begins to fuck my mouth. His balls touch my mask again and again, but he seems to sense when I need air and pulls his cock out until I say, "more". Marta is licking me and the sight urges Dan on until he comes down my throat. He pulls his cock out and leaves a little trail of cum on my mask.
He sucks in a nipple and gently plays with the other. Marta steps up the pressure on my clit and picks just the right moment to suck hard on it. I come as her face rides my bucking hips. When my orgasm wanes, I pull away from her and then reverse so I can kiss her face. We're both up on our knees facing each other. Dan comes in to kiss my face and soon we are all swapping kisses with each other.
I bring my hand in to Marta's pubic nest and discover that she has a large clit, easily the largest that I've touched. She moans appreciably as I begin to jack it. I drop my face down to one nipple and Dan drops his to the other. Marta comes in shudders of ecstasy and hugs us both. We drop to the bed with her between us.
"You never told me she's a redhead, Cathy."
"She wasn't, until this morning, except down below. She says this is close to her natural color. I intend to keep her around long enough to find out. Let's have a drink while I tell you a story." I get up to get the flasks, mine from my trenchcoat and his from his luggage.
"Okay, but I'm dying to know why you decided to let me see you in your mask."
"That's part of the story..."
The beginning of the end of Cate Blanc occurred as we were on our way back to the hotel after trading Kevin away and liberating Oliver to marry Terri. I was looking forward to unraveling the mystery of Marta, but I had to call Kyra to report our results. That's when I learned that the shit had hit the fan. That's not as bad as the end of the world as we know it, but it was the beginning of the end of Cate Blanc.
"Celine called, Cath. The Knights are all buzzing about a photo on the Internet. Some woman is blogging about you and she got a picture of you in your mask. I linked it in email."
"I'm pulling it up now. Aw crap. I know who did this. She's a friend of Terri, the woman we just recruited. I'm pretty sure she's just one of those nosy, thoughtless Internet gossip types."
I show the blog entry to Marta. It's just a blogspot page but I recognize the background in the grainy photo. It's from the Sapphire Club in Minneapolis. All of the Sapphire Clubs have a strict policy against taking photos, but I make a mental note to see about having the camera-phones of guests held during their visits. It must have been a cell phone camera or something even sneakier. The caption under the photo is, "Is this the real LastWife/Catherine White/Cate Blanc?"
The article goes on to say that the masked woman was 'accompanied by a masked amazon who could easily intimidate a granite boulder'. She confirmed that I drink a smokey whiskey and look as if I listen to my personal trainer. She explained that I met with the author's mysteriously pregnant friend in a 'lesbian clubhouse' to discuss her marital problems. Now the friend won't talk to the author, but her 'good-for-nothing husband' has moved out of the house and a handsome older man is being very protective of her.
I review some past blog entries and discover that this woman was intrigued by my stories and speculated about the existence of the Last Wives Club and the sisterhood. She must have jumped at the chance to go with Terri to a clandestine meeting. Unfortunately, she isn't bright enough to realize that she's placed herself and Terri in danger from the Knights or anyone else who can discern her true identity and who wish to discover Terri's, in order to make trouble for us.
Marta responds with, "She needs a visit from Louise Dalegbreaker, but I like that part about the boulder."
We check out of the hotel, turn in the rental car, and board the bizjet for Chicago, to plan our way out of this new fiasco. By the time we land in Chicago, I have an idea fixed in my mind. Kyra and Liz try to talk me out of it, believing they know how much it will hurt me. But in the end, with input from Barbie, Margo, Claire, Celine, Bethany, and Marta, they are convinced it will be safer for me and more beneficial to the sisterhood than any other idea we can think of.
The idea is that Cate Blanc must die and then must become The Legendary Cate Blanc in a disinformation campaign that has her in places where I am not. Celine loves the idea. She believes it will generate the kind of buzz that she can use to identify enemies and potential allies. The one who hates it most is Kyra, the one who has known Cate the longest.
"I fuckin' love your stories, Cath."
I look to Celine, who sends an unspoken promise to console Kyra through a barely perceptible nod of her head.
To kill Cate off, we need a plausible but unconfirmable story. Marta suggests a six month gap between leaking rumors of a fatal illness and then treating Cate's profile the same way we would treat the profile of any other deceased sister. I suggest ovarian cancer, since my infertility is already known through my stories. Claire's cyber black team will monitor visits to my profile and look for suspicious interest.
After we have gleaned whatever we can from Cate's death, the next phase will begin. My mask will be worn by volunteers in situations where it is sure to be photographed and posted to the Internet by a non-sister. When we have gained all we can from the buzz generated by that, this story will be published to announce the deception and to keep the dream alive. In the meantime, a new profile with a new alias will be created for me. If the need arises, I will wear a new ball mask, to carry on the age-old tradition of ball-masked women trysting with wealthy and influential men.
But of course, the story that I tell Dan, because he has no need to know about my published stories, is the story of the deal that I just arranged between the damsel in distress in Saint Paul and the wicked witch of Minneapolis. I show him the Tumblr pages of neglected wife and waiting2Bcucked and tell him plenty of salacious details of the slave trade. I gloss over specifically how my mask and my alias became publicly linked by an astute observer. When he pries, I play the need-to-know card. I explain that I must sacrifice both to protect my real identity, my career, and my family. It is the truth, just not all of the truth.
"... and so it only seems fitting that you be the last man to see me in this mask. And Marta, my protector, my guardian angel..."
Marta snorts when she hears that.
"... will be the last woman. I'm shipping it off tomorrow, to be used for purposes of which I have no need to know." I include myself as one of those who has no need to know, to remind him that fully complete explanations of sisterhood business are not only withheld from men.
During the telling of my tale, Marta sat up at the foot of the bed, between our feet. Dan and I lay on our sides with our heads propped up facing each other so we could sip our drinks as he listened to me. It is an emotional moment for me as I sit up on my heels and remove Cate's mask for the last time. I feel exposed and raw as Dan also sits up. A single tear rolls down my cheek and Marta swoops in to kiss it. Dan, typical man, asks, "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Even after all these years, he sometimes needs the carrot or the stick. "Just hold me please, and accept Marta as part of my life. She will be with me when I travel, either openly or on sisterhood business. She can't routinely visit our house, but I wish she could. If we're careful, we can arrange nights like this when I can make our schedules mesh."
He holds me, and opens one arm to include Marta in his embrace, She removes her bandit mask and snuggles in against us.
I sense the moment when his libido returns and give Marta a pre-arranged signal. I kiss her and say, "May we make love to you?"
"I am yours, Love, and yours, too, for the night, Sir."
Marta knows what I want. She told me, when I proposed it on the flight from Chicago to Atlanta for this rendezvous with Dan, that she has only ever allowed one man to fuck her doggy style. She has a real problem with submissive postures where men are concerned. "But I have seen Dan submit to sensual pegging. He is a very special man. It would be an honor to do this for you." I kissed her on that plane for the first time.
I lay under her as she lowers her beautiful face to my pussy and I raise mine to hers. She looks at Dan, who is slow to take the hint. His cock rose as he watched us position ourselves for mutual cunnilingus. "Feel free to fuck me, Sir."
"With Cathy's face right there?"
"Yes, Dan, I want to watch you fuck her. I want to lick you both."
He doesn't need another word. I watch as he penetrates her luscious pink petals. I lick his shaft as he slides into her, and feel his balls touch my forehead. His hips roll as he thrusts into her. I suck her long thick clit and tease it with my tongue. She swirls her tongue around and around mine. I feel my face being slowly coated by her juices. Dan's cock is slamming into her now, his balls repeatedly touch my face. She humps her clit into my mouth as she comes, almost causing Dan to fall out, but he rides her rolling pussy and comes. I listen to their songs as their orgasms roll through them. I taste Dan's cum as it mixes with her juice and slides down into me.
Marta's pussy lifts off my face as Dan's shrinking cock slips from her. More cum oozes out and I open my mouth wide to catch it on my tongue and swallow it. Marta licks my clit faster and harder and I get my release in a long series of rolling waves that eventually wane. I lift my head one last time and suck Marta's clit. It still hasn't shrunk back into its hood and she gasps, "Yes."
I don't have the neck strength left to keep going, so I push against her hip until she rolls off me. "You have to try this clit, Dan." He takes the hint and starts to lick her pussy as I kiss her face and roll a nipple between my fingertips. I hear her cuntsong rise as Dan brings her closer.
"Suck it," she gasps, and Dan does, bobbing his head as he strokes her small shaft with his lips. Her feet jump off the bed and rise uncontrollably above him as she comes again. Dan sucks until she finally says, "Uncle." We each roll to a side as her breathing slowly returns to normal. I prop my head up on my elbow and watch as her clit slowly shrinks until it is barely peeking out from its hood.
"Can you both stay the night?"
"Sorry, Hon. We really have to get back to the airport."
He looks suitably disappointed, but when Marta stands and straps her holster on, he is reminded of our need for caution. "This bomb that you dropped on me tonight, about Cate's death, will I ever see her again?"
"Of course, silly. Both Cates are still part of me. They'll be here when you need them."
Author's Note: There is one more episode to this passion play, an epitaph of sorts. Obviously, I am not dead. I am still having the adventures that inspire these stories. There is a significant lag time between the adventures and the publishing of the stories. Do not despair. Our heroine has not abandoned the cause.
We don't wait for an answer. I open my trenchcoat to reveal my naked body and push my husband backwards into his room, hugging and kissing him as we go. Marta secures the door and pulls her burqa off. She is almost as naked as me. We're both wearing stockings and pumps. Mine are matching black and hers are matching dark green. We're both wearing masks. Hers is a green bandit mask. The only other thing she's wearing is her pistol in a holster strapped to her thigh. She quickly strips the holster off and sets it on the nightstand beside the bed.
"Dan, this is Marta. You might have seen her providing security for Barbie. She looked a bit different until today."
"Hello, Marta. You're every bit as beautiful as Cate said you were."
"Thank you, Sir. Would you like to watch me having sex with your loving wife?"
"Uh, wow. Yes, please do."
I love how he knew to call me Cate on this special occasion. Marta and I strip the covers off the king size bed and crawl on. This is a first time for us. Dan had given Marta the green light to have sex with me when we were in St. Paul arranging the slave trade, but fate, and Marta's ethics, postponed any action on becoming more intimately familiar with this woman whom I was coming to see as much more than a bodyguard. Among all of the turmoil of the previous two days since the flight from St. Paul, I researched the topic of Marta's perceived personality disorder. I have decided to give my own name to it. I'm calling it 'paladin personality disorder'. It took some doing, and most of the information came from Bethany and sources she relied on, but I believe that I have a pretty good understanding of Marta now.
My preliminary belief was that Marta was likely placing too much emphasis on a teen suicide attempt and using it as an excuse for social awkwardness or inability to get along with others. I knew girls who had made half-hearted attempts, drama queens looking for sympathy. But I discovered that adolescent suicide attempts fall into two major categories. The overwhelming majority are a cry for help. It's not that uncommon in adolescent girls. Most of those happen in mid-adolescence.
The remaining small percentage are the result of abject despair over the realization that the remainder of their life will be defined, at least in the mind of the victim, by a usually brief but very intense period of abuse. Most of those happen in late adolescence. These are young almost women who were tortured, forced to do unthinkable things, or worse, darker fates than I think I could survive. These are the kind of things that could cause psychotic breaks. For these people, a successful suicide attempt can truly be a blessing.
Marta's attempt somehow failed and it changed her at a fundamental level. Maybe someday I will hear her story. I have no right to it, and I suspect her code prevents her from telling it for personal gain. Bethany knows at least part of the story, but Marta would not permit her to reveal it, and it is clear that Bethany has a very profound respect for Marta's privacy on the matter. Bethany's advice is only, "Trust her. You will never find a more loyal friend in this world." Her use of the term 'this world' alerts me, but she won't elaborate.
But it is Marta's failed suicide attempt, occurring in late adolescence, when a normal teenager, as Marta probably had been, would be very near the cusp of reasonably full emotional development, that took the sudden and overwhelming emotional abuse that she had suffered, left her with her first rate intellect intact, burned out any belief in an afterlife, and triggered a conviction to spend the rest of her life adhering to a mysterious evolving code of honor of her own design, while combating something, some aspect, source, or cause of the abuse that made her capable of extreme violence against herself or others as readily as she would eat a sandwich. And she has attached herself to me with an understanding of me that was derived from my published stories.
There are two reasons why I'm not particularly alarmed. The first is that Bethany trusts her, and I know from my research that Bethany has her ninjas interviewed by a trustworthy psychiatrist. The second is that even with her ability to defeat a lie detector, I could detect genuine love for her child, and concern for whether I would be making a mistake if I got involved with her, and a little bit of pique at me for giving her a pet name right in the middle of a serious discussion about whether I should risk getting closer to her. If she meant me harm, I doubt that I would have been able to get under her skin so easily.
I called it 'paladin personality disorder' because a paladin exhibits extreme dedication to a cause, a person, or even just a goal or task, but within their personal code of honor, they can be the most dependable, reliable, and fanatically supportive friends to have. Bethany does her best to match the personalities of her bodyguards to the sisters they are charged with protecting, and she always did her best to be available for me, but when the addition of new recruits brought the need for each of us to have our dedicated body guards, Marta was the first name that came to Bethany. I asked her why that was, and her reply was, "She's the only one who can handle all the weird shit you get into."
So during the two days it took to decide first that Cate Blanc must die and then how to implement Marta's suggestion of how to do the deed, I completed my research, had some brutally frank conversations with Marta and then proposed an arrangement to her. She would play the role of bodyguard and provide real security in my post-Cate life, but she would also continue to be a sounding board and a contributor of ideas, as she had been for the slave trade, and for the death of Cate. She accepted the proposal with a joke. "Can I call you Kemo Sabe?"
And then the really frank discussion occurred. She initiated it. "I want to have sex with you, Catherine."
"I've been hoping for that. I have a lot of business travel coming up and I get awfully lonely and awfully horny after a day or two without Dan. I also like to cuddle up to someone when I sleep, and you would be very pleasant to cuddle with."
She gets the same shy smile she had when I joked about the cavity search in Canada. "I can provide that service. No charge. And don't worry, I don't get jealous or possessive. I can have almost as much fun imagining you with Lini or Mindy as I can have with you. And some of the other bodyguards, when you meet with other Red Council sisters, we don't exactly stay celibate either. Beth knows how to keep us happy."
"Good that's settled then. What about men? We have an opportunity to drop in on Dan tonight. He's traveling and he's probably anticipating a gift. I would love to give us to him."
"I like men. Especially men like Dan. Just straight sex. I normally like to be on top. With a guy like Dan, I can be a little more submissive. With men in general, unless I'm getting paid, no big cocks, no oral, no anal, no brutality, no pain, no dress up, pretty much nothing other than clothes off, fuck, clothes on."
"What's special about Dan?"
"He's respectful. No macho posturing. He's kind of...", the shy smile comes back, "...fatherly."
I chuckle. "I won't tell him that you said that."
Dan probably assumed that a gift would be coming tonight, but he didn't know it would be personally delivered by me.
"You've been through a lot today, Cate, let's start with a neck and shoulder rub for you."
I know what she's doing. The sensual rubbing of her coarse flame orange pubic hair on my ass just seems to happen as she rubs the strain out of my muscles.
I look over at Dan watching us, an obvious bulge growing in his slacks. He's still wearing his dress shirt, but he's ditched the tie for the evening. "You're way overdressed Dan, you won't be invited in wearing all that."
Marta lifts one knee and I roll over onto my back. She's kissing me now and her soft lips and smooth face are such a contrast to Dan's. Her hand snakes down to my pussy as mine comes up to stroke her breast. Of course she finds me wet and dips her finger deep into my honey pot. We look over to see Dan coming onto the bed. "May I suck your cock, Sir"
"Yes, Cate."
To my surprise, he angles himself so that he's facing my feet, so he can watch Marta as she drops her face down to my pussy. I tilt my head back and suck Dan's cock in. I pull his hips and he begins to fuck my mouth. His balls touch my mask again and again, but he seems to sense when I need air and pulls his cock out until I say, "more". Marta is licking me and the sight urges Dan on until he comes down my throat. He pulls his cock out and leaves a little trail of cum on my mask.
He sucks in a nipple and gently plays with the other. Marta steps up the pressure on my clit and picks just the right moment to suck hard on it. I come as her face rides my bucking hips. When my orgasm wanes, I pull away from her and then reverse so I can kiss her face. We're both up on our knees facing each other. Dan comes in to kiss my face and soon we are all swapping kisses with each other.
I bring my hand in to Marta's pubic nest and discover that she has a large clit, easily the largest that I've touched. She moans appreciably as I begin to jack it. I drop my face down to one nipple and Dan drops his to the other. Marta comes in shudders of ecstasy and hugs us both. We drop to the bed with her between us.
"You never told me she's a redhead, Cathy."
"She wasn't, until this morning, except down below. She says this is close to her natural color. I intend to keep her around long enough to find out. Let's have a drink while I tell you a story." I get up to get the flasks, mine from my trenchcoat and his from his luggage.
"Okay, but I'm dying to know why you decided to let me see you in your mask."
"That's part of the story..."
The beginning of the end of Cate Blanc occurred as we were on our way back to the hotel after trading Kevin away and liberating Oliver to marry Terri. I was looking forward to unraveling the mystery of Marta, but I had to call Kyra to report our results. That's when I learned that the shit had hit the fan. That's not as bad as the end of the world as we know it, but it was the beginning of the end of Cate Blanc.
"Celine called, Cath. The Knights are all buzzing about a photo on the Internet. Some woman is blogging about you and she got a picture of you in your mask. I linked it in email."
"I'm pulling it up now. Aw crap. I know who did this. She's a friend of Terri, the woman we just recruited. I'm pretty sure she's just one of those nosy, thoughtless Internet gossip types."
I show the blog entry to Marta. It's just a blogspot page but I recognize the background in the grainy photo. It's from the Sapphire Club in Minneapolis. All of the Sapphire Clubs have a strict policy against taking photos, but I make a mental note to see about having the camera-phones of guests held during their visits. It must have been a cell phone camera or something even sneakier. The caption under the photo is, "Is this the real LastWife/Catherine White/Cate Blanc?"
The article goes on to say that the masked woman was 'accompanied by a masked amazon who could easily intimidate a granite boulder'. She confirmed that I drink a smokey whiskey and look as if I listen to my personal trainer. She explained that I met with the author's mysteriously pregnant friend in a 'lesbian clubhouse' to discuss her marital problems. Now the friend won't talk to the author, but her 'good-for-nothing husband' has moved out of the house and a handsome older man is being very protective of her.
I review some past blog entries and discover that this woman was intrigued by my stories and speculated about the existence of the Last Wives Club and the sisterhood. She must have jumped at the chance to go with Terri to a clandestine meeting. Unfortunately, she isn't bright enough to realize that she's placed herself and Terri in danger from the Knights or anyone else who can discern her true identity and who wish to discover Terri's, in order to make trouble for us.
Marta responds with, "She needs a visit from Louise Dalegbreaker, but I like that part about the boulder."
We check out of the hotel, turn in the rental car, and board the bizjet for Chicago, to plan our way out of this new fiasco. By the time we land in Chicago, I have an idea fixed in my mind. Kyra and Liz try to talk me out of it, believing they know how much it will hurt me. But in the end, with input from Barbie, Margo, Claire, Celine, Bethany, and Marta, they are convinced it will be safer for me and more beneficial to the sisterhood than any other idea we can think of.
The idea is that Cate Blanc must die and then must become The Legendary Cate Blanc in a disinformation campaign that has her in places where I am not. Celine loves the idea. She believes it will generate the kind of buzz that she can use to identify enemies and potential allies. The one who hates it most is Kyra, the one who has known Cate the longest.
"I fuckin' love your stories, Cath."
I look to Celine, who sends an unspoken promise to console Kyra through a barely perceptible nod of her head.
To kill Cate off, we need a plausible but unconfirmable story. Marta suggests a six month gap between leaking rumors of a fatal illness and then treating Cate's profile the same way we would treat the profile of any other deceased sister. I suggest ovarian cancer, since my infertility is already known through my stories. Claire's cyber black team will monitor visits to my profile and look for suspicious interest.
After we have gleaned whatever we can from Cate's death, the next phase will begin. My mask will be worn by volunteers in situations where it is sure to be photographed and posted to the Internet by a non-sister. When we have gained all we can from the buzz generated by that, this story will be published to announce the deception and to keep the dream alive. In the meantime, a new profile with a new alias will be created for me. If the need arises, I will wear a new ball mask, to carry on the age-old tradition of ball-masked women trysting with wealthy and influential men.
But of course, the story that I tell Dan, because he has no need to know about my published stories, is the story of the deal that I just arranged between the damsel in distress in Saint Paul and the wicked witch of Minneapolis. I show him the Tumblr pages of neglected wife and waiting2Bcucked and tell him plenty of salacious details of the slave trade. I gloss over specifically how my mask and my alias became publicly linked by an astute observer. When he pries, I play the need-to-know card. I explain that I must sacrifice both to protect my real identity, my career, and my family. It is the truth, just not all of the truth.
"... and so it only seems fitting that you be the last man to see me in this mask. And Marta, my protector, my guardian angel..."
Marta snorts when she hears that.
"... will be the last woman. I'm shipping it off tomorrow, to be used for purposes of which I have no need to know." I include myself as one of those who has no need to know, to remind him that fully complete explanations of sisterhood business are not only withheld from men.
During the telling of my tale, Marta sat up at the foot of the bed, between our feet. Dan and I lay on our sides with our heads propped up facing each other so we could sip our drinks as he listened to me. It is an emotional moment for me as I sit up on my heels and remove Cate's mask for the last time. I feel exposed and raw as Dan also sits up. A single tear rolls down my cheek and Marta swoops in to kiss it. Dan, typical man, asks, "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Even after all these years, he sometimes needs the carrot or the stick. "Just hold me please, and accept Marta as part of my life. She will be with me when I travel, either openly or on sisterhood business. She can't routinely visit our house, but I wish she could. If we're careful, we can arrange nights like this when I can make our schedules mesh."
He holds me, and opens one arm to include Marta in his embrace, She removes her bandit mask and snuggles in against us.
I sense the moment when his libido returns and give Marta a pre-arranged signal. I kiss her and say, "May we make love to you?"
"I am yours, Love, and yours, too, for the night, Sir."
Marta knows what I want. She told me, when I proposed it on the flight from Chicago to Atlanta for this rendezvous with Dan, that she has only ever allowed one man to fuck her doggy style. She has a real problem with submissive postures where men are concerned. "But I have seen Dan submit to sensual pegging. He is a very special man. It would be an honor to do this for you." I kissed her on that plane for the first time.
I lay under her as she lowers her beautiful face to my pussy and I raise mine to hers. She looks at Dan, who is slow to take the hint. His cock rose as he watched us position ourselves for mutual cunnilingus. "Feel free to fuck me, Sir."
"With Cathy's face right there?"
"Yes, Dan, I want to watch you fuck her. I want to lick you both."
He doesn't need another word. I watch as he penetrates her luscious pink petals. I lick his shaft as he slides into her, and feel his balls touch my forehead. His hips roll as he thrusts into her. I suck her long thick clit and tease it with my tongue. She swirls her tongue around and around mine. I feel my face being slowly coated by her juices. Dan's cock is slamming into her now, his balls repeatedly touch my face. She humps her clit into my mouth as she comes, almost causing Dan to fall out, but he rides her rolling pussy and comes. I listen to their songs as their orgasms roll through them. I taste Dan's cum as it mixes with her juice and slides down into me.
Marta's pussy lifts off my face as Dan's shrinking cock slips from her. More cum oozes out and I open my mouth wide to catch it on my tongue and swallow it. Marta licks my clit faster and harder and I get my release in a long series of rolling waves that eventually wane. I lift my head one last time and suck Marta's clit. It still hasn't shrunk back into its hood and she gasps, "Yes."
I don't have the neck strength left to keep going, so I push against her hip until she rolls off me. "You have to try this clit, Dan." He takes the hint and starts to lick her pussy as I kiss her face and roll a nipple between my fingertips. I hear her cuntsong rise as Dan brings her closer.
"Suck it," she gasps, and Dan does, bobbing his head as he strokes her small shaft with his lips. Her feet jump off the bed and rise uncontrollably above him as she comes again. Dan sucks until she finally says, "Uncle." We each roll to a side as her breathing slowly returns to normal. I prop my head up on my elbow and watch as her clit slowly shrinks until it is barely peeking out from its hood.
"Can you both stay the night?"
"Sorry, Hon. We really have to get back to the airport."
He looks suitably disappointed, but when Marta stands and straps her holster on, he is reminded of our need for caution. "This bomb that you dropped on me tonight, about Cate's death, will I ever see her again?"
"Of course, silly. Both Cates are still part of me. They'll be here when you need them."
Author's Note: There is one more episode to this passion play, an epitaph of sorts. Obviously, I am not dead. I am still having the adventures that inspire these stories. There is a significant lag time between the adventures and the publishing of the stories. Do not despair. Our heroine has not abandoned the cause.
Oprah
- 28.09.2020
- 34
- 0
- Category:
- Group Sex
Sisterhood of Sin 30 Ding Dong the Witch is Dead
- 4 years ago
- 35
- 0
Sisterhood of Sin 18 The Entrapped Man
- 3 years ago
- 49
- 0
