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This will not make any sense unless you’ve read parts 1 & 2….
It is just all crazy now. I can’t describe what it’s like, not really. This is all surreal although I am not drunk now, I am wide awake. Wide awake and on fire.
I am Trixie in Wonderland. I ate something, I drank something. I got small; I fell into a rabbit hole through a white door. On one side there was a house, modern and trim and bland and perfect.
But I am on the other side, down the hole, and it is all different here.
It is a huge room, low ceiling but spreads out a long way, maybe into other rooms. It is a shit room, a nasty place. Dirty cement floor and unfinished walls, dark in most places and then punctured with harsh light overhead in others, like the one over me now. There is graffiti all over the walls. Stuff that shocks me – me who has been the good hot wife, the dirty housewife, who has happily cucked my husband 30 times or more in front of him in the bland interstate hotels near Chicago. We are a thousand miles away from there now, a million miles. That stuff seems innocent to me now, swear to God.
The graffiti, black and neon green and blood red shiny spray paint on the walls. Messages there, some piled and painted on top of each other:
JOHNNY FUCKED DEEDEE’S FACE 3/12/04
DEEDEE MADE A GIRL CUM WITH HER MOUTH – MIRANDA 3/12/04
ARTHUR FUCKED MIRANDA’S ASS 6/15/04
DEEDEE’S FIRST DP – ARTHUR AND JOHNNY 4/22/04
JOHNNY COMES WHILE WE SPANK HIM 2/03/04
All in ghetto scrawl, with little doodles and symbols I don’t understand. A partly secret language. It is dark in much of the room and I cannot see all of these crazy spray-paint diaries. I am so glad right now I am Trixie – Maxine would kind of freak if she saw this, particularly if she saw this jagged line:
MIRANDA LOSES $10 BET – ARTHUR SWALLOWS 7/12/04
I say I am wide awake and on fire because there are things happening to me, stuff that would keep anyone awake.
When Arthur, more or less, hurled me into that room, into wonderland, I stumbled and was falling…..then I was on my back on a dirty hard floor and Johnny’s hands were on my forearms like a vice. One of the girls had her hands up under my cheap denim skirt so fast I didn’t feel until my underpants were yanked down and off. Deedee had them in her hand and pushed them right onto my face.
“All wet Trixie, naughty!” She squealed with delight.
And it was true – my own panties betraying me, pushed onto my nose and mouth, smelled like me and wet and heavy on my face. She threw them aside and the two girls were leaning over me, pulling up my skirt from each side, exposing me. And Miranda – my friend – my friend to go shopping with and raise funds with for the local shelter – Miranda all tall and skinny – her hand pulling up my skirt (betrayer betrayer) and then she was kissing me hot and wet and I heard Johnny say to somebody “let’s fuck her up.”
That was so long ago now, maybe fifteen minutes or a couple of hours. I don’t know.
My hands are tied up over me, in big leather cuffs, suspended from some rope or chain or something in an exposed beam in the ceiling. Tatters of my little pink blouse are clinging to my shoulders but the skirt is long gone now.
I am just so fucked up.
I am just so fucked up right now and they haven’t even fucked me.
I am short anyway, like 5’3” when husband is about six foot, and Johnny is a head taller than him, and Miranda is girl-tall at maybe six foot and Deedee is a few inches taller than me. This is makes it worse that I am on a spreader bar – and my feet are pushed out four feet from the other and it makes me shorter still. I have too look upward at all them, even Deedee, and I feel small.
Small and stupid and dirty.
Yes! Hell yes! My pussy aches so much right now with sweet stupid sub sub love for these mean fucking crazy people. Maxine couldn’t even write this, you know. Thank god I’m in charge.
In charge of nothing.
******* It’s not like some slow romantic womanly BDSM story where there is somebody called “Master” and he is some silver fox to modulate the tempo of her canlı bahis undying love and she gives herself over to his seduction and education. Nothing like that horseshit.
These people are just fucking crazy. Including my husband.
In the last hour (Minutes? Days? ) they are just chaotic and it’s hard to write this down. First, I am tied up and Johnny is behind me, rubbing his huge hot cock against my butt, up between my butt cheeks, his massive arms on my shoulders while husband is in front of me, kissing me, telling me he loves me.
Then, with no rhythm or apparent plan Deedee is on her knees in front of me, her red fake nails pulling my lips apart and her soft fat wet tongue pushing against my clit, all up and down, and then somebody – not Arthur – I see him in front of me at the far end up the room – somebody else is smacking my butt, smacking my ass really hard with a nine tails and every time I jerk from the *seriously* hard spike of pain on my butt I just end up pushing forward into Deedee’s mouth, which is warm wet heaven.
And then something else, delirious now: Miranda stands behind me, a head taller than I am and she is pushing against my back, I feel her slender high set breasts and nipples, sharp as quartz, press between my shoulder blades and she is taking her long long arms and hands, reaching around me, masturbating me, rubbing against my clit like only a girl would know how….and she is doing this while Arthur does something else to me, putting clothespins on my tits, my fat hard fat girl’s nipples.
The pins hurt, little bursts of pain. And I squeal, all the while Miranda just keeps her long fingertips pulling my lips open and pushing on my clit and I so feel this girl’s soft cleft of pussy hair rub against the small of my back.
He is staring right into my eyes, looking at me pinching me, jolts of flame spreading across my breasts, down my spine, where the baby soft hands of Miranda on my pussy are pushing waves of pleasure upward and those sensations are crossing, honey and fire together.
I hate Miranda for forcing me to feel good in front of my husband like that. It is like they are making fun of me because that’s what I’m good for. Trixie toy in Wonderland.
With no particular cue then it is Deedee in front of me now, kneading my breasts, holding them. “If you kiss me on the mouth I’ll take these off,” she teases, and then to italicize her statement she pinches the clips together extra hard and I think I might pass out.
I am of course kissing her now, she is running her long nails through my hair and I am just so kissing her, desperate for her to love me and the clips are off now and she is running her fingers in circles around my boobs, and I just want to kiss her forever, her hot open mouth that tastes like a sweet pink drink.
Arthur is across the room; my best friend is sucking his cock while he pats her head and sips his drink. Miranda – betrayer! Betrayer! (Does her little German engineer husband know about this?).
Music is blaring, some incomprehensible violent angry rap shit popping out of a big boom box. Music that Arthur would never tolerate. Muzak for the wicked, with nothing but drum machines and bass and some crazy yelling that doesn’t sound like English, doesn’t even sound like language.
Someone behind me smacks my ass several more times. And I jerk too hard and yelp and lose Deedee’s kiss.
“What a fucking dyke,” she says at me. “God Arthur, you must be embarrassed.”
And husband is kissing her now, Deedee, not a foot from my face. His hard on pushing against her curly curly curly red pubic hair.
It’s very clear to me now.
There is no one in charge.
There is no plan.
In here, in Wonderland, there is only impulse. I am starting to become part of them, part of this place, now. It makes me calmer.
I feel from behind me a large man’s hand push into my pussy, a finger as big as some guy’s cocks are, and a second one – a thumb? – push up into my ass. I immediately begin rocking against Johnny’s hand. There is no need for pride in here, just shameless I begin pushing against his hand stuck up me, greasy and fat.
They have a magic marker and take turns writing things on me. It is bahis siteleri one of those that smell like candy, like licorice. Deedee writes “PINCH” across my breasts. Arthur writes “SMAK ME” just above my pussy hair, with an arrow pointing down. Johnny writes “FUCK” and another arrow on my lower back – the arrow going straight down to the crack of my ass.
Miranda is taking pictures of everything. Not a digital camera or anything fancy – an old Polaroid instamatic that pops out those little instant pictures. I notice as she fires them off that there a few already taped on the wall. I look again, and I see that there are in fact hundreds of them. Hundreds of them.
They are taking me down now, unhooking my bound hands and the leg spreader. My legs are sore. Johnny picks me up like a rag doll and puts me on some old work bench thing and he is on top of me, huge and hot. He stops and yells out “Johnny fucks Trixie!”
And I hear Arthur yell back an affirmative “Johnny fucks Trixie” and I hear the sound and smell of spray paint against the bare wall.
Johnny’s huge cock is in me all at once, a mile deep inside me in one push and I can feel my own walls getting pushed apart, and his cock is hitting deeper than Arthur’s (or most men) ever could. His huge hands pinning down my forearms and on his third massive thrust into I am just coming and coming and coming, I am so little and he is so big.
Coming still, not like a great rolling orgasm that spreads out and ripples, but a tight hot storm centered inside my pussy, over and over, sparkling with electricity and pain and heaven and god knows what. Honey and fire, the center of the universe there, my lovely wonderful pussy so packed and tight and I cannot think straight.
“Fuck that bitch,” someone is saying, “Fuck her.” It is my husband saying it standing close now, but here he is Arthur but not my husband.
I am starting to fade a little now, as I feel him bottom out and come so much it is overflowing back out of me, warm on my thighs.
The flashbulb is firing again, three more times, maybe.
There is no one in charge here.
They fucked me up all right, but with no one in charge it’s not like there’s a plan or anything. No careful script. Impulse, impulse.
The THUMP THUMP of the shit music on the boom box seemed to keep us going, like a rave scene.
Later, we tied Arthur and Miranda up together. I got to make her hurt and make her come, wet and hot right into my face. I would pinch her tits until she squealed and pleaded, and then I would drop to my knees and run my tongue up and down her pussy – which was long and skinny like her and also topped with black crazy hair.
Johnny and Deedee let me, but it’s not like anyone needed permission to do anything there, in that place.
I made her come with my mouth while Deedee spanked her ass. That was so cool, making her come like that – knowing that she was helpless and getting red stripes across her skinny little bubble butt while I pushed my fingers into her and held her clit in my mouth. When she was really bucking against me – my day time friend – my shopping girlfriend – and I knew she was going to lose it, I was looking right up into her eyes looking back at me, and we both knew my mouth was making her come – tasting like fresh salmon and victory.
When Arthur was tied up, Miranda and Deedee were pinching him, stroking him, spanking him while I kneeled down in front of Johnny and gave him a slow sub-girl’s blowjob and moaned about how Arthur would never get a blowjob like this until he had a cock like Johnny’s. Real porn star performance, and then Johnny started getting seriously into it and half gagging me, just manhandling my face and I let him and continued to look all sweet at subgirl and kept looking up at Arthur. Arthur’s cock was hard as iron and the girls were stroking him everywhere except on his cock, leaving it pointed and helpless.
Deedee came over and started feeling me up really hard, which felt good, and eventually she slid her face underneath my thighs and I just sat down on her face.
Girl-head just so ROCKS!
I admit this now: I am not a lesbian, but I’m not saying I’m totally straight either.
Getting bahis şirketleri head from her was just so much sweeter than from a guy – it’s true! And I was kind of bobbing my ass up and down a little bit and she was fine with that, just kept running her tongue in and out and around me, right from the tip of my clit all the way down, right across my ass, back and forth. All this time Johnny has his huge hands around my head and is truly fucking my face, shoving his cock almost all the way down even though I kind of gag, totally unladylike, and spit comes out of my mouth but it’s worth it.
When he comes (and comes and comes) I almost can’t breathe, almost suffocate and that’s when I feel that big wave coming inside– half choked and almost going black, but Deedee’s sweet mouth is still moving all around my pussy. He finally pulls his cock out and I gasp and gasp and again almost choke on sperm and spit that gets drug back out and I look at helpless Arthur and make a big show about rubbing it on my face. And that’s the moment Deedee’s tongue finds home and I am shaking, shaking and pressing all my weight down onto her face, pitching forward.
But I do not know I am pitching forward; do not know what sounds I am making. I just feel girl-mouth on my pussy and even as I burst she is still moving that sweet warm tongue around me, all I can feel, that tongue on me, I do not know where my pussy ends and her mouth begins, I just know the feeling of the tornado swirling at the center, throwing force outward across my body.
That’s what I remember before passing out for real.
I wake up alone in Wonderland. The music is off and it is very quiet, like I am in a still like, or a display. I am naked except for the tatters of my blouse. It is an ugly harsh room, poorly lit, dirty. At least it is not cold. I look at the graffiti on the walls. There are new entries.
“TRIXIE IS A WORK OF ART 9/17.” And next to this scrawl are three taped pictures of me, with graffiti drawn on me when I was still tied up.
“JOHNNY FUCKS TRIXIE 9/17” painted in a signature I now recognize as Arthur’s, and another snapshot of Johnny’s big steel cock about to go into my pussy.
And on an opposite wall, “MIRANDA IS A TEAM PLAYER 9/17” and there is a particularly bad shot of Miranda, sitting on top of a cock that’s up her ass with another one in her mouth. The photo does not show the men’s faces, but I know from experience the cock in her ass is my husband’s, and the huge thing she is trying to swallow is Johnny.
I am sleepy now.
I look for my clothes and cannot find them.
I see at the far end of this dingy wonderful room a perfectly white door – out of place in this filth. The exit.
I linger a little longer, looking at the hundreds of other photographs there – all of them taken with an old fashioned instamatic camera. Nothing digital – nothing to develop – all of the records here are kept inside this place. Nothing to share or transcribe or document beyond this one big room. I understand now – nothing that happens in here leaves here. In this internet age, there is such a simple genius in this.
I open the white door, back through the rabbit hole. And I step in (naked, embarrassed) to Johnny’s beautifully decorated entertainment room. I step through and close the door behind me. Deedee throws me my skirt and a clean plain blue t-shirt which I quickly slip on.
They do not stare at me while I redress. Do not call attention to me until I have fastened the skirt on and pulled the t-shirt over my head.
They are busy watching a movie – a different one from the earlier one I think – the zombies are shambling toward the two remaining heroes locked inside a cellar, but the sound is turned low now and they are all stuffing their face with cold popcorn and soda, not talking much.
I sit down on a puffy beige leather couch next to husband. He puts his arm around me and hands me his bowl of popcorn. I look around and, seeing that everyone else is totally stuffing themselves and their lips are traced with butter I do the same, shoving a handful of popcorn in my mouth and then another before I can even get the first bite down.
“Max,” he says, almost whispering “Aren’t bad movies just awesome?”
“Hell yes,” I say, quiet as a mouse, cheeks chubby with popcorn, watching the zombies retreat, shuffling away from the heroes now, back into their squalid black lairs as the light of dawn breaks across the screen.
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