Secret Sins Ch. 14

"How do you mean?"

"Everyone wants to use another to get off. It's universal. Doesn't matter if a person is gay, or straight; as soon as they're old enough for that sex drive to kick in, their base animal instincts, their insatiable nature demands that they find someone to use in order to fulfill their desires. I love it. I love being a part of it. I especially love that I was the first person you chose to do that for you. Tell me, have you ever-? Roman! Don't just stand there, you fucking balourd! Get Tara a screwdriver! Now!"

"Yes, Mistress, right away, Mistress!" he piped, hurrying from the room.

"Christ al-mighty, that guy," Donna complained with a slight shake of her head. "Of all the slaves I've ever had over the years, he's one of the worst. Anyway, have you ever known a forty year old virgin male?"

"Um, well I wouldn't know," I answered. "That's not the kind of thing people tend to reveal about themselves, so..."

"Well, I have. They tend to be... off. In different ways, depending on the individual. I knew one who happened to be a Christian, and more or less used that as an excuse for not worrying about it, telling himself all that stuff about sex before marriage being wrong so he'd feel better about it. The problem was that, at some point, it was no longer possible for him to get married because he didn't have the slightest idea of how to go about getting a woman to marry in the first place. Didn't have any way with women, if you know what I mean."

I nodded, getting horny standing there in the water with clothes on as I watched the roiling surface making out with the bottoms of her boobs while she spoke.

"The longer he went on like that, the more difficult the idea of being with a woman became for him. I once told him to just go out and get a prostitute but, of course, he wouldn't ever consider such a thing. So he just went on like that until he somehow convinced himself that he was homosexual and, before you know it, he was fondling young men on the transit system. Of course, he got in trouble for that. Charged and jailed. His family disowned him, and all because he inhibited his own nature to pump n dump some woman at least once."

"Why didn't you just influence him?" I asked, shivering to the feel of her hand when it touched my inner thigh below the water.

"I'll admit, I was tempted. I mean, I almost felt sorry for the poor bastard, but it was also a very interesting thing to watch, the way he slowly poisoned his own mind over the years due to denying his body's natural urges. I find it fascinating that, while it wasn't okay for him to use a woman, it was somehow okay to use an un-consenting male to get off. Like those Catholic priests, y'know? Sure, go ahead and mess with a boy, but Heaven forbid we take a consenting woman!"

"I feel like you're making a specific point for me here," I commented with a raised brow and a smirk.

"Mmm," she replied, looking at my chest. "Take your top off. I wanna see your tits now."

I paused because I'd been expecting her to give me her point, but obediently grabbed the bottom of my tank, pulled it up over my head and dropped it in the water, sticking my chest out for her with a proud smile as I waited.

And she was about to reply when Roman reappeared, hurrying to the edge of the tub, holding out a glass of orange and vodka for me. I took it, just a little uncomfortable with this type of service while he addressed Donna and me.

"Will that be all, Mistress? Ma'am?" he asked earnestly.

"Yes, yes," his Mistress replied with impatience and irritation in her tone, "just go stand where you were for now, you twat."

"Yes, Mistress, right away, Mistress!"

"As a matter of fact, sweetie pie," she said, finally getting back to me as she ogled my bare chest, "I am making a specific point here, that being that religion fucks people's heads up. It's had your head fucked up."

"It- it has?" I asked, flinching as her hand rose on my inner thigh, squeezing in an excitingly rough way.

"Well, yeah. All that time watching porn, wearing lingerie under your clothes? How long do you think it would have taken you to go out and get laid were it not for your religion, were it not for how that and your desire to be a good little Salvation Army Officer impeded your natural drives?"

"Actually, porn and lingerie helped me to avoid that, to save myself for marriage," I defended as her hand began caressing my other thigh and I moved a little closer to her.

"Until you seduced your assistant," she said, adding, "Your female assistant."

"I... That's not fair!" I charged with a helpless grin. "You yourself said that you have an effect on me!"

"Which you were able to overcome until that day. You came back from that meeting all hot and horny, saw me in my bra and went as far as removing your own blouse in order to make sure that I wouldn't put my top back on."

"Yeah, but you-!"

"And then you led me into the kitchen, got really close, rubbing your tits against mine, and then decided that I shouldn't be wearing any pants either."

"That's not fair!" I charged. "You pulled my skirt down first, and besides, you have this... this thing with me, and you know it! You're just as responsible for seducing me as-ss-aah-hh!"

Her hand had risen from the water, cupping my pussy through the thin yoga pants, massaging and caressing while I stood there like such a naughty young woman, shamelessly enjoying it as I gasped and moaned.

"No. It was all you. You wanted to do something sexual with another person, anything, even if it was with another woman and, while it's true that I wanted you, I gave you every opportunity to back down. But you didn't because, subconsciously, you knew it was high time that you satisfied your nature."

"Oooh, baby, that feels so good," I moaned, tweaking my nipple with the hand that wasn't holding my drink as I looked her in the eyes.

"And then you were off to the races, happily getting used by anyone and everyone at the Funraiser, feeling like shit about it afterward while the Hypocrite, Major Hurdle, stood there enjoying every second of it, getting off vicariously because he thought he was too good to join in, too righteous and pure to soil himself in such a way, though his almost overwhelming desire to do so makes a liar of him. He thinks of you as nothing more than a slut, and he's right. Isn't he?"

"Uhh! Y-yeah...!"

"Tell me, sweetie pie..."

"I'm a slut!" I moaned, humping her hand.

"Yes, you are. And this honesty sets you free. Hurdle may think he's better than you, but he's only a self-righteous, hypocritical fool for thinking that resisting his filthy desires makes him so. He's nothing more than that well trained dog that wants your supper, only awaiting the go ahead from his master so his fickle viewpoints can conveniently turn wrong into right. You're better than he is, not the other way around, sweetie pie."

Incredibly, I saw the truth in this. I say 'incredibly' because this truth flew in the face of scripture and because her massaging hand made it almost impossible for my mind to think about anything other than letting her knead my pussy to orgasm. But the wisdom in this and many of the other things she'd told me was beginning to seep through and, rather than dismiss or resist it, I only wondered why God would demand such self-torture as abstinence and monogamy, such misery as the guilt that came with eventually giving in to even wanting the things that we, as humans, had to have in order to live as He Himself had made us.

"B-but why would God tell us we can't have one another?" I lamented.

"He didn't," Donna answered. "The Church did. The Church wrote the scriptures, sweetie pie, not God. God didn't write anything other than the universe and all that's in it. Who are you to go against what He's created, what He intended for us?"

"Yes...!"

At this point, undeniable satisfaction filled her eyes and she placed her wineglass on the edge of the tub before standing. For some reason, I was surprised to see that she wasn't wearing any bikini bottoms, and when she took my drink from me, I used that hand to begin rubbing her incredibly erect clitoris.

"Oooh, yes!" I whined as our boobs crushed together, "Make me cum so fucking ha-aarrd?!"

"I'm gonna do more than that, you horny little bitch," she breathed. "I'm Gonna turn the lights on in your eyes. Ooooh, yes, sweetie pie, rub my fuckin' clit! Rub...!"

This was what I loved about sex with Donna. It was always so intense, so visceral with her, but this time it was different. I couldn't explain how, but I knew that I had to be with her, inside of her eyes and soul, sexually synchronized as we fell into one another's minds. I felt the soaked crotch of Donna's yoga pants being torn open, her fingers finding their way through the breach for direct access to my pleasure center as, in each other's eyes, we found each other's most intimate selves.

I don't know how long we fondled each other, only that our orgasm was a bursting dam. It was pure pleasure, both from within and without, so sudden and so intense that the real world was swallowed whole by a weightless, timeless existence that our bodies didn't inhabit. It was so clear then, so shockingly obvious that Donna was my God of sorts. Part of what I was had sprung from what she was, and I felt only her, consisted of only her, surrounded by her like being enveloped inside a bubble of awareness, surrounded by a love so alien, yet so uncompromising as not to be compared to any love that I'd ever felt from any human ever, before or since.

But what was inside the body of this woman who inhabited Donna Liski's life, something that also lived inside my body, was no less natural and no more evil than my human part. It was just completely, inhumanly different. A different sort of soul, a non-human one that had found a human physical form, a way to propagate itself as all life does, here and on what some would call the spirit plane. She was natural, beautiful, exciting and every bit as dangerous as cancer.

I came back to the real world with a rush, literally and figuratively resurfacing. Apparently, I'd collapsed during what was inarguably the best orgasm I'd ever had, slipping below the churning, warm water for who knew how long. Coughing up water, gagging and somehow avoiding a messy regurgitation, my senses reeled as I fought for balance, both within and without, like those people who describe near death experiences and their feelings of alarm at being rudely returned to their bodies.

I was dimly aware of some yelling coming from far off and that Donna had pulled me back to the water's surface but, once my vision returned, there was no sign of her. There was, however, more yelling, then screaming from upstairs. There was also a lot of water on the floor between the tub and the door, and when I looked for Roman to ask him where she'd gone and what was going on, I saw that he too had gone.

It was then, to the sound of a cry and some scuffle that I vaguely guessed to be on the basement stairs, that I realized that there was something subtly different about me. I staggered, coughed and gagged a little more while holding onto the edge of the tub, heaving and groaning while the sounds of scuffle moved to the foot of the basement stairs. Noticing the defeated crotch of my yoga pants, I was at first surprised until I remembered that my beautiful Donna had done that. My love and lust for her exploded in my mind as the rest of the world and most of my senses returned.

And then the sound of scuffle was at the door. To be more precise, Roman's body struck the doorjamb with a lung jarring grunt before falling heavily to the floor two seconds before Donna appeared there. To say the least, I was surprised to see her pick him up and bodily toss him forward, this time against the outside of the tub. He looked up at me, his face bloody, eyes clear of influence, and it was suddenly obvious that he'd somehow 'slipped his leash', as Donna had once put it. It wasn't just the way his eyes avoided mine, but the expression in them. It was abject terror. The kind of abject terror a child might have while being devoured, feet first, by the very monster from under his bed that his parents had always maintained didn't exist.

And then, said monster was on him, again displaying more strength than even I would have suspected as she grabbed him by the back of his collar and the crotch of his pants, picking him up, turning him upside-down. Driving him headfirst into the hot tub, she literally held him like that with the determined, grim expression of one who'd found it necessary to drown a litter of puppies.

And I could only stand there, stunned while I watched him helplessly, uselessly thrashing. It may sound stupid, but I was trying to convince myself that what I was seeing was really happening, stunned into silence and inaction by the spectacle. His arms wind milled, splashing more water over the floor, legs waving around in the air as I kept waiting for her to stop, to decide he'd learned some lesson.

Apparently, Donna didn't feel he'd learned anything before his limbs slowed, becoming more convulsive than frantic. After a final convulsion, when I was sure she'd have to let him up, he went limp. I watched in horror as she continued to hold him there for several long seconds more, without any physical strain, until she'd obviously decided he was probably dead.

She then hoisted the lifeless homeowner from the tub and looked carefully into his indeed dead eyes for a moment of verification before tossing his inert form through the open doorway and the closed door on the other side of the outer alcove. She'd done this with as little effort as it would have taken a normal person to toss a small dog in such a manner.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed, looking at me with frustration before her features suddenly and radically softened to ask, "Are you alright, sweetie pie?"

Her eyes were black with darting islands of colour, and I wasn't quite sure how to respond. As I've said, I came up out of the water feeling strangely different on some level, and I was trying to grapple with that in concert with the horror I'd just witnessed.

So I only stared, unable to respond. She blinked her eyes and smiled at me, sitting on the edge of the tub, swivelling her body around and plopping herself back down into the water with a splash as I suddenly remembered a time in a different hot tub. It was the one at that hotel in Moose Jaw when I almost physically challenged Donna for the bikini bottoms she'd tricked from my body. That would have been stupid.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I know that was probably a little dramatic, and I wouldn't have wanted you to see... that. It's just that... while I was giving you your inheritance, he somehow slipped his leash, which is very odd because... Oh, shit!"

She hopped out of the tub, accomplishing this in much the same manner as a superhero from a comic book might. This display was somehow just as disturbing as Roman's murder, but also explained why there was so much water on the floor. She literally hit the floor running, disappearing around the corner with a speed and agility that any cat would have been jealous of. I heard her ascending the stairs in what must have been four or five steps at a time, then her inhumanly fast footfalls on the floor above until they reached what I guessed to be the kitchen area. The whole trip took her about five seconds.

I heard nothing more for several more seconds, then the sound of footfalls again, normally paced if only a bit hurried, traversing the upper floor, then down the basement stairs. My Donna reappeared once more, the real Donna Liski in tow this time. While the monster from under the bed got back into the hot tub, Donna looked curiously through the doorway that had previously held a door until Roman's body had gone through it.

"Oh my!" Donna exclaimed with alarm, looking in at her husband's wet, crumpled form. "What's happened to Roman?!"

"He got violent with you," my Donna lightly replied as she took the seat she'd been inhabiting when I'd first arrived in the tub room. "Quite violent. He was trying to kill you, so you had to put him down. He deserved it."

" ... Yes," the real Donna realized as she walked into what appeared to be a small home gymnasium. "Yes he did deserve it! Rotten bastard!"

She gave the back of his head a stomp, then another, and then another as her lips twisted in seething fury. My Donna began laughing at this, looking at me as though I'd be laughing too.

Of course, I was horrified.

"Donna!" she quickly called, her laughing at an abrupt end with the sight of my reaction, "Stop that!"

"Yes, Mistress!"

"Close the door and clean up the mess! You don't want the police to find out!"

"Yes, Mistress!"

Real Donna looked at the door to the gymnasium, buckled and broken on the floor, confused and obviously wondering how she'd get it closed.

"This door, you idiot!"

"Yes, Mistress!"

She hurried out of the gymnasium, across the alcove and gave us her usual bright, cheery smile as she closed the door to begin the grim task of cleaning up her dead husband.

As for myself, I was just then truly absorbing the fact that a human life had been extinguished right in front of me. My Donna had murdered Roman Liski, taking his life with about the same level concern than one might show while shooting a rat. I could only stand there, staring at the closed door, listening to the muted sounds of real Donna Liski dealing with the mess on the other side. I was having trouble accepting this as reality, and that subtle change within, that mysterious, altered state from deep down inside of me, clawed at and constantly distracted me.

"Well, I don't know what happened," Donna calmly stated, her voice seeming to come from a different dimension.

"You killed him," I heard myself explaining.

"No, I mean I don't know how he slipped my control. I must have... while we were joined and you were receiving your inheritance, I must have somehow set him free without even realizing. Christ almighty, he was almost to the front door before I could grab him."

"You killed him," I iterated, turning to look at her, my words more an accusation now.

"Sweetie pie, I had to," she gently explained.

I was aware of how her tone with me had altered, how it seemed to be taking care with me, an almost imperceptible change in how she handled me but, in the heat of the horrifying moment, I paid it very little mind as she went on.

"He got away from me. He was aware. I couldn't... Once they're aware, I can't get them back again, and I couldn't let him go. Believe me, I had no choice. If he'd gotten out of the house..."

"Donna, he's dead! Dead! You fucking killed a man!"

"I've killed lots of people," she replied with a shrug, in such a way as to suggest this made her shocking confession okay, that this somehow excused her actions. "Sometimes it has to be done, and it's not as if I did it for no reason. I told you, once they're free of me and aware, I can't get them back again, and then they're a danger to me. To us. Surely you can see that, sweetie pie?"

I felt nauseous, the full weight of her mortal transgression now coming down on my senses as fear and paranoia began to grip my heart. But still, it wasn't a fear of her, rather a fear of what would happen once he was missed, once the police began looking into his whereabouts. Another thing that was turning my stomach was her casual attitude towards her crime. It was nothing for her to kill a person, this being who so despised Roman and Donna Liski for aborting three of their own children. How could I love her like I did?