Stamina update

Emma and Betsy slept together in Scott’s quarters. They could’ve had sex, but it actually seemed a little more naughty to go to sleep, naked, their bodies available for Scott’s pleasure… whenever he finally stopped working.

Emma would’ve sent a selfie of what Scott had waiting for him, but with her psychic power, it was easier to simply prod at his calculating mind… to send him her own lust, how she felt clutching Betsy in her arms, enjoying the sensation of creamy skin, pert ass, luscious breasts… so like enjoying her own voluptuous body, only the feeling was doubled.

Betsy giggled, easily able to sense what Emma was doing. “You’re going to give him a hard-on.”

“Then he’d better come back here and use it.”

Emma had outwitted herself, though. The bed she’d bought was too comfortable, the sheets too sleek, the pillow too soft. Soon, both she and Betsy were asleep, and they didn’t wake until a slight but indescribable feeling filled both of them, teased out of them as if by the softest of foreplay.

Emma’s eyes fluttered down. She looked at the mirror above the bed—a must for any room she intended to spend multiple nights in. And she saw that her body was not its usual porcelain perfection.

Cumslut. Cockholster. Bitch. Cunt. Fuckhole. Obscenities scrawled in lipstick across her chest, on her hips, even on her face. She looked to Betsy, sure the other woman was responsible, but saw the same invective graffitiing her. Slut. Cumdumpster.

Emma pouted. “Scott, what makes me a cumslut and her just a slut?”

Scott sat on the foot of the bed, still holding the lipstick he’d written on them with. Examining as if trying to discern its precise shade of red through the ruby quartz he saw the world as. “They’re not judgments, Emma. Just some incentive.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Betsy muttered, stirring from her sleep to be greeted by her own body blaring dirty talk at her. “Not again!”

Scott checked his watch. “It’s a little after four AM. You girls went to sleep at nine. I don’t smell any dyke sex on these nice clean sheets, so you actually did sleep together. Your circadian rhythms have had enough REM. I want you to get up and exercise for me. Then you can go back to sleep.”

“You exercise in the middle of the night?” Betsy asked.

Emma smirked. “That can be the very best time to do it.”

Betsy looked at her lower belly. “Why am I a cocksucker and she’s a cockholster?”

“I think our personal trainer just didn’t want to repeat any words. I would’ve put you down as a cumguzzler.”

“Yes, you would. Why would Scott, though?” Betsy smiled, licking her lips. “Not that I wouldn’t love for him to think of me as a cumdumpster.”

“As I told Emma, just some incentive. You two both have such perfect bodies, and so little inhibitions about showing them off, that I needed to do something to embarrass you.”

Betsy glanced at Emma. “Is that your kink?”

“It’s not not my kink.”

Scott interrupted them before their banter could get going, thinking ruefully that the downside of having two women was that they were each as irreverent as the other. “You’ll be running naked around the mansion. Naturally, you wouldn’t want anyone to see you like this, so run fast.”

“And what does the winner get?” Emma prompted.

“A nice reward.”

“And the loser?” Betsy asked. “Does she get punished?”

Scott sighed. “Yes. She gets tied up and gagged and whipped.”

Emma chortled. “Not much of a punishment.”

“I know. That’s why I wrote that you’re a fuckhole on your flat little tummy.”

“And with such neat penmanship. You really do care. Can you write that I’m an ass-fuck whore? I’d like to get it tattooed in your handwriting.”

“I want him to write that I’m a squirter,” Betsy cooed.

“That’s not really something one needs to reclaim,” Emma pointed out. “Men like it.”

“No they don’t. You know it’s mostly—”

“You’re wasting time,” Scott informed them. “Socks and running shoes are by the door. Get dressed; so to speak.”

“Alright,” Emma groaned, getting up from the bed, pouting instead of displaying herself to Scott with her usual elan. “But when we get back, you’d better call us some of these things instead of just writing them while we sleep.”

“And say them like you mean them,” Betsy added. “I want to know you really do think of me as a cumguzzler.”

“He didn’t write that, Betts.”

“Not even on my back?”

***

Emma was in much better shape under Scott’s rigorous program, with all the kinky ways he coerced and downright forced her to push beyond her limits. Still, Betsy was a damn ninja and as they ran through the cold night air, nothing to warm their skin but athletic socks and whatever space-age material Nikes were made out of, Emma got used to see Betsy’s damn perfect ass swaying like it was worth a million dollars.

What’s worse, Betsy was pacing herself. The bitch had stamina to burn while Emma could already feel herself flagging. It was like she was sprinting and Betsy was jogging and the beautiful cow was still outperforming her.

Scott had set her up to fail. He must know that Emma was a lover and not a fighter. She’d damn well shown him that enough times. As much as Emma was sure she’d enjoy being punished, she still didn’t appreciate the patness of it.

Betsy would get a win to crow over and Emma would have a lovely time being spanked—it had all the hallmarks of Scott. Too much symmetry and not the wonderful messiness of flaring passion, buttons flying from torn shirts, stockings ripped… It grated too much for Emma to even enjoy the delicious humiliation of running naked about the grounds, hoping no one discovered her, trying to keep the pace up so anyone who did see her would only catch a quick blur before she was gone.

It was a chocolate sweet bit of degradation, but that didn’t erase the knowledge that Betsy was going to win.

Of course, Scott and Betsy were both so literal-minded that they’d thought this was just going to be a race. What they didn’t remember was that everything in life was a Chess match. And in Chess, the Queen was powerful because she could move absolutely anywhere she wanted to.

Emma took one last look at Betsy. Even when the slut was beating her, she still looked damn good. All that luscious back, the supple skin, toned muscle rippling everywhere, and that plump ass of hers that was just the right size, writhing and wiggling with every step Betsy took.

Emma felt ashamed of herself for not better appreciating it. Running behind Betsy was no sort of punishment. But then, Emma was the self-aware sort. If it weren’t for her competitive nature, she wouldn’t be who she was. And besides, she really was running out of juice.

With a deep breath, Emma put on a burst of speed. Betsy hadn’t braided her hair—letting it fall unbound seemed appropriate to running naked—and though it taxed her to the limit, Emma was able to catch up to Betsy, grab a handful of that purple-streaked hair, and pull Betsy to a stop.

“Oww, Frost, what the bloody hell are you—”

They were running along the mansion’s colonnade and so when Emma jerked Betsy to a stop, she had a nice Greek pillar right there to pin Betsy to, to hold her against as she put a hand to her groin, ran a finger up and down her slit.

Betsy was paralyzed. Frozen solid by the hot blood of her exertion and victory suddenly being taken advantage of, her body’s own high-keyed adrenaline now pouring into arousal.

Emma eased her finger in.

“Oh shit, oh Emma, Emma!”

“Relax, Betsy,” Emma purred, able to manage her usual sultry tone despite how out of breath she was. “Scott wants to play games with us. It’s fun to be toyed with. But that doesn’t mean we always have to let him win. We can play our own games.”

Her finger went all the way in, then curved up, and Betsy orgasmed with it touching her G-spot. She gritted her teeth and held her breath, trying not to give away how good it was, but Emma felt the wetness all around her finger. She tittered.

Betsy had been hot to start off with, thinking of beating Emma and getting her reward, but how easy it had been to fan that heat into a flame. Sometimes I even amaze myself, Emma thought with a sniff of superiority.

“Emma,” Betsy gasped. “Someone might see us. Any moment, someone could…”

“So what?” Emma cooed, her mouth close to Betsy, lips brushing against the little gasps Betsy let out. There was no stopping her moaning, not when Emma’s finger was stroking inside her. “Are you ashamed of your body? Or of having my finger in your cunt?”

Betsy let out her breath. “And I suppose you’re proud of being a bitch and a slut and having it written all over you?”

“Absolutely. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as eager for more fun with Scott as you are. But he has to remember that we’re strong, powerful women. And we play his games because we like it, not because he’s some god. It would serve him right if we spent thirty minutes out here, fucking each other senseless, before we strolled in for our reward.” Emma brought her lips to where the lightest whisper would go into Betsy’s ear. “Don’t you like the thought of him waiting for us, hard as a rock… all that cock and nothing to do with it? It’d serve him right. He had more important things to do? Well, this is more important than worshipping his prick!”

Emma’s finger twisted and turned, plunged into Betsy and was drawn out. The sound was wet and slurping as Betsy felt herself surrender again. She moaned and shuddered, not caring that Emma got to exult in reducing her rival to gibbering ecstasy.

“Cumslut,” Emma mused, hard-pressed to keep the usual chill in her voice when this was so exciting. She was teasing Scott and fucking Betsy, all at the same time. “See, I don’t know about that. A real cumslut would never be able to get off like that without at least a little semen running down her face. I think you just like being fucked.”

Emma pushed two fingers in Betsy’s tiny hole. Betsy crooned and let herself slump against the pillar, Emma following her down in a crouch. Betsy closed her thighs on that wonderful, pleasuring hand—keeping it in place. Emma put her other hand on Betsy’s thigh and held it against the other, loving her second taste of that glorious golden flesh surrounding her fingers.

“Is that three? So fast, too. We’re really putting Scott in his place; I bet he thinks he’s the only one who can do that to a girl.”

“He’s made you come three times in a row?” Betsy panted, almond eyes forced open.

Emma smiled. “Yes, but he cheated. He spanked me and choked me and ordered me to come when I was in a very submissive mood, the bastard.”

“That makes him a bastard?”

“I wanted him to slap me. Slap me for being such a dirty girl and enjoying such nasty, naughty things.”

“And he didn’t? That son of a bitch, you could’ve come four times if he’d fucked you like that.”

Emma nodded. “He’s a work in progress. When I met him, he never would’ve taken on a sex slave like he did you.”

“I’m not his sex slave, I’m his mistress.”

“Shut up, it’s my turn now. You’ve got me wanting it.” Emma kissed Betsy quickly, fiercely. “Will you fuck me, Betsy? Will you eat my wet little cunt until I come all over you?”

Betsy almost screamed. Will I? she thought. I’m not going to do anything else until I’m wearing your cream like perfume. That will make Scott try a little harder… remember I’m a cumguzzler, not just whatever nasty words he can’t fit on Emma’s body.

Emma smiled. She could read Betsy’s face, hear her thoughts, feel her pussy’s heat and how much it wanted more. “Very nice. Rain-check, though. I really do need to get back and fuck Scott’s brains out.”

And she took off running, leaving Betsy trying to scramble to her feet with a body that was all but boneless.