Gromet's PlazaErotic Stories

The Secret Life of Rica 4: Bea Investigates

by AmyAmy

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© Copyright 2015 - AmyAmy - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; F/f; voy; video; lingerie; toys; discovery; nightie; breast; kiss; strip; handcuff; mast; cons/reluct; X

(story continues from )

Chapter 4: Bea Investigates

Bea’s new camera cost as much as a week’s rent but the quality was worth it. She’d spent the last few days watching the video-feed from Rica’s room.

She was filled with tingling, almost electric energy. Ever since she put the camera through the wall and seen Rica stripping, she’d been charged with euphoria, wet all the time, and barely able to stop touching herself. It was possible that things were getting out of hand.

Rica was up to something. Last week she’d taken delivery of some large paper screens. Since then, other interesting boxes had arrived. Bea had signed for some of them. She’d tried shaking a couple but learned nothing, and the shipping labels offered no clue. Her video-feed showed the boxes spread around Rica’s room, open, but still packed up.

Her hand wandered towards her crotch. No. She’d been doing that all day. Now was time for something new.

Rica had gone out of the house. This was a good time to check that the camera was properly concealed and investigate the packages. Rica wouldn’t really mind as they were so close.

Bea only wanted to be by her side, or underneath. Love was like that right? Anyone would understand. Sure, she had obsessed over Rica since she’d moved in, but for most of the college year she told herself it was just a crush, that it would pass… But it had only got worse. Why did it have to get worse? But she couldn’t choose to stop being in love, could she? And it did feel so nice.

She’d always been prone to infatuations, especially for unobtainable people, but those had been little storms. Rica was a like a hurricane, or a tornado, and this wasn’t Kansas anymore.

She’d watched and re-watched her first recording. The stripping session was her favourite. She kept the sound muted so Rica wouldn’t hear the playback through the wall. If only she’d had the good camera back then.

She’d had no chance to get the spy software onto Rica’s phone. The only time Rica left it unattended was in the shower and it was almost as if she was avoiding the shower while Bea was about.

She slipped into Rica’s room, leaving the door open behind her, so she’d hear if Rica came back early. Hesitating at the doorway, she savoured the subtle scent. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a deep sigh as she imagined being invited in by Rica, joining her on the bed, being roughly ordered to strip. The air would be cool, her nipples tense and hard, and then she’d press against Rica and feel the heat coming from her.

She looked up at where she knew the camera would be. There was a small shadowy circle. There was no way to hide it completely without blocking the lens. Underneath, on the floor, was a patch of white plaster dust. Had Rica really missed that? Bea brushed up every telltale speck of plaster.

She got the drafting stool from her room and climbed up on it so she could reach the bedroom ceiling. She pressed several shiny black sequins into the polystyrene moulding that covered the join between the wall and the ceiling. From floor level they resembled the dot of the camera lens.

Rica might notice the sudden appearance of the dots but they were less obvious than the plaster dust. With any luck, when they caught her attention, she’d think they had been there all along. Rica might think it was strange for someone to have stuck sequins up there, perhaps left over from Christmas decorations or a party, but she wouldn’t home in on one odd dot and immediately discover a camera.

Bea slipped climbing off the stool and bumped against the computer desk. There was a ‘tink’ sound, something metal bumping into glass. A plastic pen rolled off the desk and dropped onto the carpet. She picked up the pen. It couldn’t have made the noise. She got down on her knees to search for whatever had fallen. Nothing. She got up with a sigh. Maybe the collection of keys next to the mouse pad had clinked together.

Bea chewed her lip. She shouldn’t worry, Rica didn’t seem to pay attention to much besides her books and her computer. How long it would take her to notice if Bea rearranged the entire room? Rica might not get the joke.

Bea turned to the boxes. All of them had been opened, rummaged through and then abandoned. Inflatable packing bubbles, polystyrene beads and tissue paper concealed whatever was inside.

Bea reached into one of the larger deliveries. Inside were some smaller boxes. She pulled one out. A bright pink box emblazoned with the words ‘Thumper Rabbit Super Jackhammer’ in swirling feminine calligraphy. She took a deep breath, air whistling between her teeth. It sure passed the Freudian test of being longer than it was wide.

There was no picture on the box but she didn’t need one to know what it was. She pushed it back under the packaging and pulled out another item. It was about the same size and weight as the first. There was a full colour picture of a large, black, anatomically detailed dildo. There was no brand name. The only the description read ‘Super Soft 12in x 1.5in, realistic feel and texture’.

Bea giggled at the monster. How much of a twelve inch dildo could she fit inside herself? Not even half probably. How much could Rica fit? She chewed on her lip and shoved the massive fake cock back under the packing bubbles.

Were all these boxes sex toys?

Rica sure had bought a lot of them. A girl might want a vibrator, maybe more than one, but there were at least a dozen boxes here, and some were quite big. That made twenty or thirty items.

Rica couldn’t plan to use them all herself. What would it be like to have Rica ramming her up the ass with the massive black cock while working on her clit with the big vibrator, Rica’s hands in her hair, riding her from behind? She wanted to know. She deserved it. It would definitely happen. Soon.

Bea’s face flushed hot. She shouldn’t get her hopes up. They were probably for use on the target of the on-camera performance. It didn’t matter. Rica would be hers, somehow…

She shook her head and took control of her breathing. There were lots of other interesting boxes to peek into. Any one of them might hold a clue to Rica’s secrets.

She sniffed at a box that had a peculiar chocolate odour to it. It was topped with tissue paper. Underneath, there were rubber items sealed in plastic zip bags. It would be nice to open one up and have a look but she’d never get it back right. Would she?

She moved on to another box. Ugh… Cheap lingerie. Tacky, scratchy stuff that would fall to bits after a couple of washes. Surely, Rica wouldn’t wear such trash, would she? It was the sort of thing that seedy boyfriends bought as a hint.

The biggest box was also far heavier than the others. There was no packing inside when she pushed apart the flaps and stared inside. Instead there was a full spool of chain, like she’d seen in hardware stores.

Metres and metres of it.

It was the weight that people bought to chain up big dogs. But Rica didn’t have a dog.

Bea buckled at the knees and sank down onto the floor.

She’d seen enough. Her breath came in heaves. She slapped at her face to wake herself from the dream but it was all real.

She stumbled to her feet and retreated back to her own room, dragging the stool behind her. What was she going to do now?

All Men Are Bastards

Erica unpacked her shopping. The fridge was strangely empty. All the guys’ stuff was gone. Their horrible meat sticks and left over pizzas, their jars of pickle and bottles of tomato ketchup. Even the usual inexhaustible supply of beer was missing.

Had they moved out without telling her? No. Even they wouldn’t do that without letting her know. They were almost on good terms. Nerd camaraderie and all that … but the guys had been quiet lately. In fact, she hadn’t heard them since all that noise the day before yesterday.

Erica’s arms ached from lugging enough food for a week. It was hateful going out. She didn’t bother with fresh stuff. Food was a nuisance, an inconvenience. She shouldn’t have to eat, didn’t have time for it. She needed to work on the site. There was still so much to do and still so much to learn about the things she’d bought.

Or she could abandon the site – try and sign up with an agency – she didn’t have to go it alone. But which companies were trustworthy? Did somebody rate or rank these things somewhere?

No, she wouldn’t go to an agency. What was the point of knowing how to build and run a site if she didn’t use that knowledge? But, payment systems were tricky, she’d never done one before, and if you screwed up, it was real money.

Once the initial work was done she’d still need blogs and additional sites to promote the main site.

What was she doing? The fridge door was still open. A plastic bottle of milk had turned her hand cold. Lack of focus. Lack of sleep. She shook her head and put the milk away.

The fridge was strangely empty though. Lonely.

She opened the door into the one-time living room. The guys had repurposed it as a mini-LAN party area. The desks were still there but the rest was gone. Computers, chairs, cabling, everything. Missing.

A few days ago it had been like mission control. Now there was nothing but dust-bunnies and stains on the carpet.

She looked again. Had they left a note? Anything to indicate where they’d gone?

In the corner behind the door, the fibre-box was calmly blinking and flickering its little lights. Everything was green. Next to it, weighed down by two sets of keys, was a sheaf of papers covered in red writing. She snatched them up and thumbed through the pile.

The bastards. The motherfucking assholes. The internet bills hadn’t been paid in two months. It was a double robbery because she’d given the guys her share of the bill for those months.

She checked the bills again, skipping past the shouting ‘FINAL DEMAND’ part to the date and amount. Oh great. She had until … yesterday … to pay it all. It was absurd. She’d have to find three-months of money, garnished with administration fees for late payment, and bandwidth overrun charges. Had the guys been running a file-sharing site or something?

She bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time and came to a stop outside Bea’s door.

“Bea, you in there?” she shouted.

Immediately, there was a loud thud from behind the door, followed by a whimper of pain, then muffled swearing.  Bea didn’t answer the door.

It was probably a mistake to say anything to her. Erica began to chew on the middle of her lip. There would be embarrassment, and then panic and she’d run off and end up weeping on her bed. She wasn’t equipped to face Bea. She just wasn’t. Maybe she should go away and come back later?

Bea ripped the door open so forcefully that Erica jumped back in surprise. Bea swayed, as if she were about to lose her balance. Her face was red. “Sorry. Sorry. Rica! What is it? You want me for something?”

Erica wrinkled her nose. There was a funny smell coming from Bea’s room. A not entirely unfamiliar smell. No. She mustn’t get distracted. “Hey… Did you know the guys moved out?”

“What? Hey, do you want to-”

“They’re gone. Completely. Did they say anything to you?”

Bea stared off sideways into space. “Didn’t they tell you they were going weeks ago?”

Erica winced. “No.”

“Maybe I was supposed to pass that on… I wasn’t really paying attention. You know how they ramble on? Boys…”

She swore, regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her face was heating up. The guys, who she’d thought were ok, had treated her just the same as everyone else did. It was shameful for it to be so obvious to Bea. She clung to the anger. Better to think of punching those scumbags in the face than letting herself lapse into another attack.

“Ohhhh-kaaay,” Bea said. “I guess I messed up. I’m really sorry Erica. Let me make it up to you. Please…” Was Bea this slow normally, or was she just playing dumb?

Rica mumbled swearwords under her breath and pushed the sheaf of bills into Bea’s hands. “Have you seen these?”

Bea stared at the red bills as if Rica had handed her a live octopus. “Have you-”

“Take a look at the numbers. It doesn’t add up.”

Bea squinted at the paperwork, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice uneven.

“Did you give these jerks your share of the internet bill?”

“My share?” Bea said. One word, then another, a lingering pause between them that Erica wanted to fill. Something wasn’t right. Maybe she’d got Bea out of bed or something. Or maybe she was playing dumb because she’d been in on this fuck-over-Erica game from the beginning. “I never gave them anything for the internet. Never used it. I have my phone.”

“That’s so weird. They said it was split four ways. That part seemed legit.”

“You’re probably right,” Bea said, nodding.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Bea said nothing, just looked back at her, eyes and face red, like she had a cold. That was probably it, a cold.

“So, who was paying the fourth share? Was there somebody living in this house I didn’t know about?”

Bea kept up her empty stare. If Erica didn’t know better she’d think that Bea was staring at her boobs in a spaced out way. But it was only guys that did that.

“You want to go out? You know? Get something to drink?” Bea said.

Erica let the words flow over her. Nothing Bea said was made any sense right now. If she got hung up on this she’d never get anything sorted.

“They should have cut us off yesterday. I can’t have my internet cut off. Not now. If they do that they’ll put us and the house on a credit-risk list and nobody will give us a contract for anything after that.”

“We could go dancing afterwards, you know?” Bea said.

Erica stared at her. Was she insane? It was probably just the usual let’s-get-Erica game. Was she supposed to run off crying instead of sorting out these bills?

“What the eff are you talking about Bea? Would you just pay attention for a minute? I’m broke Bea. I can’t pay these bills.”

Bea looked at her feet. The red was spreading down her neck. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’m so stupid.”

Oh my. Bea was actually embarrassed. Erica took a proper look at her. Is that what I look like when it happens? It’s pitiable. But Erica didn’t have time to work out what was going on in Bea’s head. “You understand, if I pay this bill, I won’t have any money for food. Or rent.”

“Sorry. I meant to say something before, you know? I guess the rent is going to be double without the guys. Do you want to find somebody else to move in?”

Erica groaned inwardly. It just kept on piling up. Piling up and piling up. What next, come on universe, what next? She wasn’t equipped to vet potential housemates. They’d probably think she was a weirdo and run a mile. Or she’d run a mile. It would be hard enough to find people in a hurry. They’d never get anyone if she had to do it. “Ok. I’ll leave it to you.”

“I can cover the rent this time,” Bea said. “I mean, I would do more but I can’t pay it all for more than a couple of months.”

Had she heard that right? Bea would pay for the whole house? Erica shook her head. Where did she get her money from? “Thanks. If that’s alright. I’ll… I don’t want to make things difficult for you too. I’ll get the money as quick as I can.”

Bea smiled. Creepy. What was there to smile about in any of this? Was Bea pleased because Erica would owe her one?

“Do you have a forwarding address or a number for those jerks? They’re the ones who should be paying this.”


“Never mind. I don’t want to talk to them anyway. You do it. The mysterious fourth contributor doesn’t matter. If they’d meant to tell me, they would have told me. Right? Instead they just left, without a word. Bastards.”

“I guess.”

“Thanks about the rent.” Erica turned away and stomped over to her room. The door was ajar. Weird. She could have sworn she’d been careful to lock it when she left. It would be the icing on the cake if she’d been robbed. She turned and looked towards Bea’s door. Bea was still standing there, staring at her with a strange squinty look on her face.

Erica hurried into her room and locked the door behind her.

Yellow Primer

Why had the guys been charging her a quarter of the bill when there were only three people using the internet? If they’d been doing her a favour, they’d ruined it and-then-some by leaving her with the unpaid bill. At least they hadn’t hidden it so that she got cut off with no warning.

It took over an hour on hold to get the bill sorted out. She had to make all sorts of excuses but in the end they believed her sob story and let her pay off the outstanding balance and the month-in-advance they were demanding due to frequent late payments.

Her credit card was maxed out. No time for crying. Any other purchases would have to wait. She had food for a week – maybe two if she stretched it out – she’d have to owe Bea for the rent. She could manage as long as Bea came through on that. It would be just Erica’s luck if she ran off or flaked out too.

She’d made herself watch the tutorials over and over. Just the thought of trying to be pretty made her stomach twist up in a knot.

She’d spent half a day psyching herself up before she could order beauty products online. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t given a second thought to ordering boxes of sex-toys and bondage gear, but ordering war-paint gave her a panic attack.

People might laugh at her efforts. But then, she was a laughing stock to begin with. What would change, really? It was just so … alien. Fancy contouring was all very well, but those people were unbelievable. It was like they were born doing it. They made it perfectly reasonable to use forty different products to create a look. It would have swallowed her whole budget to buy all that stuff, and she couldn’t understand why it had to be done the way they did it, or what she could do with the things she could afford, or how any of it worked at all.

The makeup took forever. She put it on and wiped it off twice. Doing the eyes was impossible. Her face ached from it. By the end she’d stopped worrying about how she felt. How she looked was the problem.

She adjusted the camera-lights again and inspected herself on the screen. That couldn’t be her, could it?  It wasn’t her face. It was some slutty lingerie model. She shivered as the stranger moved across the screen. The stranger’s eyes were huge under unreal lashes. She glittered like a showgirl. Her boobs looked unnaturally firm. Artificial. Except they weren’t. It was her. But not her.

Camera-world Erica was somebody else, somebody she could never hope to be.

Her crazy web-site idea... Could it work? Camera-world Erica belonged on a porn site. It was probably all she was good for, but that was better than real-world-Erica, who was good for nothing. Even so, she might not be enough to make people come to the site.

She couldn’t look at the screen any longer. How could she reconcile the gulf between the image and the person she really was? Was that what people see when they look at her? That skank? No. Of course not. She didn’t look anything like that in real life.

All this time, had she been clinging to an image she’d created back when she was a chubby little twelve year-old with bad acne? It was time to look again, but she’d been wrong before. She’d probably be wrong again.

She fell back on the bed, then had to sit up again to swallow. Her throat was tight, and she couldn’t stop swallowing, even though it hurt. It was a good result for the web-cam business. Definitely a good result.

So what was wrong? Why couldn’t she relax? Too many bright thoughts whirled in her head. She had to focus. Her breathing slowed but her heart was still beating too fast. She didn’t have forever. She had to get started.

She began to record her first video. With each minute, the weight in her gut got heavier. With each scene the feeling it was all hopeless got stronger. With each re-shoot it was all clumsier, more awkward. By the time she was done it felt like she’d wasted two hours on proving she had no skills at performance, photography or lighting. All she had to show were a few seconds of distinctly amateur material, and a conviction that there was already an endless supply of superior video, free on the internet.

Her stills were awful. She needed a photographer. She needed a real artist to design her site and edit her photos. She needs a director for her videos. Wishes… Wishes were for genies and she was short a lamp.

She’d have to do the best she could and keep learning. You do the best you can…

Would the revenue model work? There were limits to what she could do in the short term. She had to keep the site and the system simple. Complicated bidding systems, package deals, discount days, they were all things for the future. Right now, it just had to work.

What would happen if nobody came? If it didn’t make any money at all? What if she burned up the little confidence she had to achieve nothing but one more great-big self-humiliation?

Hallway Encounter

The next morning, Erica let the heat of the shower soak the tension from her body. Bea, the only other person in the house was probably still in bed. She was safe to use the bathroom without being disturbed.

She picked out a saucy camisole and ruffled pink knickers to wear for her next filming session. She might as well take them with her to the shower. Even if Bea got up, the chances of bumping into her were insignificant.

Even after that time…

That had been a unique accident. It had never happened before, and it would never happen again.

Showered and dressed she examined herself in the bathroom mirror. She squinted, trying to see herself objectively. The mirror was more dishonest than the camera, but if she tricked herself she could just about see the person the camera had caught. Once she’d had a coffee she’d record some more teaser shots. If she stuck at it, she’d have to come up with something usable eventually.

She tried some poses, taking advantage of the full-length view in the mirror. Why didn’t she have the guts to be this person in real life? Maybe it was better if she didn’t. She didn’t really want to be someone like this did she? It wouldn’t do much for her credibility.

She eased open the bathroom door.

She jumped back, bumping against the door frame and gave an involuntary “Yeek!” of surprise.

Bea was standing right there.

So close.

Somehow, she hadn’t heard her approach. Her body shook. She took a deep breath.

“Oh my,” Bea said, her eyes round as saucers.

Erica felt the horror sink in. She’d wasn’t wearing anything but the ridiculous transparent frilly lingerie she’d put on for filming. Oh my, what will Bea think?

In contrast, Bea was wearing running shorts and a t-shirt. Erica tried to edge backwards but came up against the unyielding door frame. She should say something… Make an excuse… Anything. Her lousy brain wouldn’t work. As usual, she had nothing. As usual, she could feel her face and chest heating up. As usual, humiliation, embarrassment and panic. Her life… everything normal. Everything collapsing. Folding in on itself. Except… Another part of her was heating up too. She tensed down there. What was going on?

Definitely Yuri

Erica trembled. “Uh… Sorry.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

Bea was still there, immobile, blocking her way. Her thoughts back in the moment when Bea had taken her hand and placed it on her boob. What had that been about? Was Bea some kind of lesbian? Whatever Bea was, she was looking straight into Erica’s eyes.

Bea could have stepped away, laughed, made a joke at Erica’s expense or pushed past her into the bathroom. She hadn’t done any of those things. Given the humiliating underwear Erica was wearing, the lack of snide comments was a win. Bea’s face…There was a tenderness about it, something intense behind her eyes, or maybe she just needed the toilet in a hurry. If only Erica were better at reading expressions.

Bea seemed to be waiting for something. So confusing.

Erica felt warm softness under her fingers. She looked down. Her hand was on Bea’s boob. Again! How had it got there?  Bea must have put it there? It couldn’t have moved without her volition. It was hot in the hallway. Heat coming from the open bathroom door, or from inside her?

Bea rested her hand on Erica’s wrist.

Was Bea about to wrench her hand away and begin the screaming and the accusations now?

Bea did the opposite, pressing Erica’s hand hard against her chest. Erica was … stuck … unable to stop from groping Bea’s breast. She couldn’t pull her hand away. She could feel the girl’s nipple tight and aroused beneath the confining sports-bra.

Bea exhaled her words breathily, “Oh. Ree-ka”

Bea’s eyes were still gazing into hers, liquid, sparkling. How come she was looking down at Bea? Bea was much taller, wasn’t she? It was no illusion. Erica was in her bare feet and Bea in her runners. Bea must have been wearing serious heels every time they’d met. Either that or Bea had shrunk, which wasn’t terribly likely.

Time seemed to stand still. Why hadn’t she torn free and run whimpering to her room? A small voice inside urged her to rage and scream, to hurl Bea to the floor and strangle the life out of her.

Part of her wanted to grab Bea’s other boob, or something else, wanted to feel her mouth crushing against Bea’s, wanted to explore that hot, moist opening with her tongue.

Erica’s free hand slid down Bea’s side, tracing over her ribs one by one, down the back of her waist and coming to rest on the shelf of her buttock. It was definitely doing that by itself. Erica had no control over it. Maybe Bea was some kind of hypnotist. It slid down further, firmly cupping Bea’s butt-cheek. Warm, softly padded, it yielded beneath her fingers.

Bea looked firm and muscular, but every part Erica touched felt so soft – softer than she’d ever imagined – and smooth.

Erica’s breathing came heavy and hard, thundering in her head. Bea must have noticed it too. Bea’s face was flushed bright red with embarrassment that spread down to her shoulders. Her lips pouted, slightly parted. Expectant? Her eyes still fixed on Erica’s as if sending some message she couldn’t understand.

Bea sighed, a low, pleading noise, almost a moan. “Please… Rica… Make me yours. Won’t you?”

The words didn’t make sense. Bea couldn’t be talking to her, couldn’t mean what she thought she meant. “Sorry… I… I… I can’t hear you,” Erica said.

“Please… Don’t make me beg for it... No, that’s wrong. Right… Make me plead for it. Make me beg.”

The words were clear enough, though they should have been drowned by the sound of rushing blood in her ears. Erica felt like she was on fire and where her hands touched Bea’s body the heat was doubled, as if was Bea burning even hotter than she was.

Inexplicably, the heat was drawing them together. Her body acted of its own accord. She gazed out of the eyes of a puppet she couldn’t control, a dumb passenger, watching things from a distance.

The helpless sensation was familiar somehow, and yet she had no recollection of any previous experience resembling this.

Bea’s body shuddered at her touch.

Erica drew her in, pulled her close with a firm hand on her ass. The touch seemed to set Bea aflame. Erica reciprocated as Bea tipped her head sideways for the perfect kiss. Her lips pressed against Bea’s.

She wanted Bea’s lips to be full of furious passion, ravaging her. But no, they refused, gentle instead, soft, tender. The kiss a tantalising brushing of sweetness. Bea’s breath was hot on her face, minty scented and moist.

She felt Bea shudder, growing heavy in her arms. Erica’s own belly had turned to mush, and a dull longing was sinking down into her sex. She didn’t have the strength to support them both.

She was so wet. If she moved, would she squelch?

It was all impossible. It had to be a dream. She couldn’t be kissing Bea.

Was this her first kiss? Her first erotic kiss was with a girl? She wanted to tear herself away and spit, but Bea’s lips were so soft and sweet. They deserved to be treated with tenderness.

There was no explanation for how she’d got into this situation and no excuse. It felt good. And wrong. There was no need for it to stop, was there? Except it was wrong. She was still embarrassed. Still afraid. Still on the edge of panic. But it was alright, wasn’t it? Wrong. Or right?



How the hell was she going to get out of this mess? Not that she wanted to.

Bea Heats Up

Bea was melting inside. She couldn’t pull away from Rica’s kiss. It wasn’t that she was physically prevented, it was simply that there was no part of her that could muster the will to break away. Her heart was pounding. Pounding so fast. It would be fine if Rica did anything to her.

But it would be best if Rica did everything.

Bea’s knees buckled. Rica’s grip on her ass tightened, stopping her from falling. Her head tilted back. She was gazing up into Rica’s face. How had this strange silent woman hypnotised her? Was she some kind of vampire, some kind of demon? No, Rica wasn’t weird. She was perfect. Bea was the one who was weird and weak. Rica was just the kind of woman she couldn’t resist. Rica ran hot and cold, made it so the only thing left to do was beg. The idea made her even wetter.

Tiny electric shocks went off as Rica brushed her nipple with her fingers. Her bra dulled the sensation to a delicious teasing. A wandering hand slid around to her back, radiating a glorious heat. Fingers brushed down her spine, touching each bump until they reached the base. Oh. Fingers probed down where the tight elastic fabric of the running shorts gripped the dip between her bum cheeks, then kept on tracing, lower, touching the tightly closed bud of her bum hole through the shorts. A strong, decisive grip seized her firmly by her hot, aching mound and pulled her tight against Rica’s feverishly hot body.

Bea gave sharp gasp followed by a hungry moan. Was that her making those noises? What was Rica turning her into?

Slender fingers pressed up and into Bea’s sex, pushing the gusset of her shorts into her pussy. Her head span. The heat from Rica’s body was almost unbearable. Where had these feelings come from? She’d never even dreamed anything like this before.

Bea panted. Her chest heaved as if she’d been running hard. “Please. Please. Can we go to your room?” she said.

“No,” Rica said. Her voice was firm. Decisive. “No. I want to see yours.”

Bea felt a stab of panic killing her buzz. Had she hidden the wires? Had she put her computer away? Was there anything that Rica might see?

“Of course.”

Holding Rica’s hand she approached the door and opened it a crack, peering through to check whether there was anything that might give away her secret.

Bea’s Self-Bondage Bedroom

Erica spun Bea round and pointed her towards her bedroom door. “You’ve seen my room. Now it’s my turn.”

Erica pressed against Bea from behind. Bea opened the door to her room a crack and peered in through the gap as if she was expecting to be ambushed. There was a small dark spot on Bea’s shorts where Erica had pressed on them. She reached down there again, taking a firm grip on Bea’s pussy. Her index finger sought out Bea’s clit. She knew when she had it from Bea’s reaction.

Bea twitched up onto the tips of her toes gave a loud squeal. There was nobody else in the house to hear. Erica, half-lifted her and pushed her forcefully through the door.

She gained her first view of Bea’s room. Was it really so different to her own?

The walls were painted the same plain-white as hers. The ceiling was the same, even the carpet was the same, but the bed and furnishings were different. The bedspread and pillows were pale pink and there was a large, complicated drafting table in one corner, with a tall chair-stool over by the door.

A white chest of drawers, the same as Erica’s, sat in a different corner. Unlike hers, the top surface was covered with colourful, feminine, beauty products. A familiar computer desk had been turned into a dressing table, with a large illuminated mirror and another crowd of cosmetics. Some names she’d only just learned, others she still didn’t recognise. There had to be thousands of dollars-worth of brand-name chemicals. She had a momentary vision of Bea recording makeup tutorial videos, deftly brushing, pencil-lining for the camera, two million followers and rising, primarily age fourteen to sixteen. Everyone was better suited to the camera than she was.

Bea stumbled forward into the room. Erica held herself back while Bea hastily ripped off her running shoes and then her top. Underneath was a bra exactly the same brand and colour as Erica wore almost every day. Not so surprising perhaps, it was a popular brand after all.

Bea reached around and peeled that off too.

Bea’s nipples stood out tight and hard, her C-cup breasts sitting high and proud on her slender chest. She gripped the waistband of her shorts.

Erica reached out, stopped Bea with her hand. “Slowly.”

Bea complied, peeling them down with exquisite care. Naked, her sex was waxed and hairless. A little wetness glistened on her pussy lips. The smell was back – the sweet-rotten scent of musk and dirty panties – like the one that Erica recognized from her own masturbation but somehow different. It filled the room and Erica’s head span. She gasped for air. Her lungs weren’t working. She was drowning in the odour of arousal and expensive perfume.

She strode forward and pushed Bea back onto the bed. Bea didn’t resist. She fell back, spreading her arms and legs across the covers. Erica climbed on top of her and settled on her soft belly, pinning her down. Her waist was slender but there was a little handful of spare flesh that Erica could relate to. Thankfully, Bea was an imperfect mortal after all.

Erica leaned forward, holding herself above her and they both shuffled up the bed, Bea wriggling this way and that. Erica’s hands found her breasts and grasped them firmly. It was as if two soft handles had been provided for convenient control. Erica took a firm grip and used them aggressively.

Bea moaned at the abuse, but it wasn’t a sound of pain. Her face was flushed, lips parted, eyes almost closed, lids fluttering. Erica glanced up and saw the pink, fluffy cuffs attached by chains to the sturdy bed posts. Still on autopilot, Erica grabbed one of Bea’s wrists and locked a cuff around it.

Bea gasped, gave another moan, but didn’t protest, so Erica cuffed the other wrist.

Bea’s wrists were pinned, arms spread wide by the steel frame of the double bed. She was helpless. Unquestionably unable to free herself. Erica could keep her here like this as long as she liked and do whatever she wanted with her.

There was nobody else in the house.

She could keep Bea like this for as long as she wanted, have as much fun as she liked.

She had a whole box of chains and locks in her room. She could restrain Bea in a hundred different ways. She could bury her under chains. How long would Bea enjoy it? How long would she remain willing? The bathroom was nearby… There’d be no need to ever let her off the chain.

Erica paused.

Everything unravelled.

Her head was ringing as if she’d been hit. What was she thinking? What was she doing? Had she really locked her housemate to her bed? Was she seriously considering using the chains and cuffs she had bought for a fake camera-performance as real restraints to keep Bea locked up, a prisoner, a sex-slave, for days? No, No, that had just been an idle fantasy.

When had she turned into a total fucking psycho? At what point exactly had she gone completely bat-shit crazy? She had to stop this right now because she wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d be able to keep her wits about her.

For years people had been laughing at her, humiliating her, putting her down, driving her to hide herself away in her room while they laughed and played in the sun. Now she had one of those smug confident torturers in her grasp, willingly submitting to her, eager for the abuse.

It was too good to be true.

Yeah, too good to be true.

She was shaking. It was all she could do not to laugh. If only it didn’t feel so good to have this, but she needed to shut it down before she became a kidnapper or worse.

But couldn’t she get away with it? It was so tempting. So genuinely possible. The effect Rimkoff had relied on when he tried to molest her would work in reverse. Even if Bea ran to the police – though she wouldn’t dare anyway, it would be too humiliating –even if she did, there was hardly any chance they would believe her. One look at Erica and they’d smirk and laugh and send Bea away, seeing her report as the prank it obviously had to be.

Nobody would ever believe that she, dumpy, frumpy, shy-girl Erica, had made advances on Bea, let alone overpowered her and turned her into her lesbian sex-slave. If anything, they’d expect the reverse.


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