"Sometimes A Musky Aroma Is All It Takes"
Mary closed her eyes in concentration, racking her brain for the flaw that had to be there, that one
lost detail that would embarrass her in front of everyone. She couldn't find it. The table was
impeccable, and the meal was ready for a perfect dinner presentation. Mary took a slow relaxing
breath. Maybe she'd gotten it right, she thought. Maybe Cynthia would even agree
Mary chided herself for having the thought. She'd sworn that she wouldn't let this meal become
yet another point of obsession over her evil sister-in-law. It was just a routine family function, and
Cynthia's opinion wasn't any more important than anyone else's. That had been Mary's mantra all
week, but she was still working on believing it.
Despite herself, Mary tended to view her darling sister-in-law as royalty, a vulgar "Bitch Queen" but
royalty nonetheless. Cynthia was spoiled, vain, and aloof, and she made no apologies for none of it.
She claimed a special station in life--like a picked pedigree. Cynthia strode a step higher than most
everyone else.
There was no denying that Cynthia was an exquisite beauty. She had the gorgeous face of a model,
but not the typical body of the slender fashion model. Cynthia went five-eleven, with an extremely
voluptuous figure, large full breasts, a trim waist, and a large well-rounded meaty ass. At five-feet-
two and 110 pounds, Mary tried to stay thinner herself, but she loved Cynthia's body. Cynthia was
one of the few women she knew who could affect her this way. Mary scolded herself for that too.
But Mary just couldn't just will it away--she was a closet, passive role lesbian.
Images of her boisterous sister-in-law haunted Mary nightly, sometimes keeping her awake into the
early morning. There was something fantastically potent about this female. From the time they'd
met, Mary had regularly fantasized about her--not about making love to Cynthia, but about doing
strange, depraved things. The fantasies always involved Cynthia mistreating and humiliating Mary, and
they usually ended with Mary being forced to perform lewd oral sex. Mary's experiences with other women
was limited to the few times in college with her dorm room-mate and she intended to keep that chapter of her
life closed.
So, Mary fought to exorcise the Demon Cynthia from her fantasies, but more often than not the Demon won, sending
Mary scurrying to the bedroom for her vibrator that she named Bob (battery operated boyfriend). Or even worse,
leaving her to stew helplessly in her office chair.
Naturally, Mary felt nervous and vulnerable around her sister-in-law, always feeling that Cynthia had power over her
which could be invoked at anytime. The effect was that Mary tended to be fawning toward Cynthia, and she hated
herself for it. Of course, it was Cynthia's nature to take advantage, and Her Highness freely exploited her ability to
manipulate Mary. She loved having Mary fetch and carry for her. Cynthia often made mild sarcastic remarks about
Mary's clothes and hair in front of others. Mary accepted it all with a smile, always telling herself that the next time
would be different. But no matter how she prepared, Mary couldn't seem to avoid becoming a clownish sycophant
before she realized what was happening. It was horribly embarrassing.
Dinner was set for seven. Mary's parents showed up at 6:40 and the three of them had drinks while they waited for
Ton and Cynthia, who finally appeared at 7:15. Cynthia looked fabulous, as usual. Her dress was sleek burgundy, dark
but with a nice shimmer. Her make-up and nails were impeccable, and her ash blond hair looked salon done. She
carried a pretty pink gift box, which she said held a spiced pumpkin pie.
Mary complimented Cynthia on her dress, and it came out sounding gushy. Cynthia smiled that slightly twisted smile of
hers, subtle, but clearly arrogant. So, it was Cynthia 1 and Mary zero, just like that. And those captivating brown eyes
smoldered with amusement, laughing at Mary already.
Dinner was nice enough. Cynthia talked a lot, as usual, going on about the fact that she and Tom were unable to find a maid
who could cook and clean. At one point, Cynthia complimented Mary's cooking and asked Mary if she might consider a career
change--a belittling poke coming from a woman who had never acknowledged Mary's considerable success. But no one else
noticed.
Mary served Cynthia's pie for desert. To her surprise, it was homemade. Mary had never known Cynthia to make anything in
the kitchen before. Mary's first bite of the pie tasted of nutmeg--too much nutmeg. No one said anything until Cynthia
herself asked Mary whether she thought it tasted alright. Mary's instinct was to say it tasted fine, and that would have been
the answer of everyone else at the table. But it didn't taste fine, and Mary had promised herself that she would free herself from
Cynthia's intimidation.
"It may have a bit too much nutmeg, Cynthia."
There it was. And for a moment, Mary congratulated herself on finally acting like an adult with her sister-in-law. But the moment
burned off under Cynthia's steady gaze.
"You think so, Mary" Cynthia said, her voice full of her patented brand of sarcasm. "I guess I'm just not the domestic type. Never
was the kind of girl who putters around in the kitchen trying to please people."
Tom laughed and said she'd done fine. Mary's parents chimed in too. Mary felt like a fool. The shut out continued.
After dinner, Cynthia ignored Mary. No chit-chat, no smiles. Mary told herself that was a good thing. She needed to be a little
standoffish. But Mary couldn't take it. She craved Cynthia's attention, the put downs, the sarcasm, whatever she could get.
Anything would have been welcomed, but nothing came.
Finally, while the others were having coffee, Mary waited for Cynthia at the bathroom door. Crow was served.
Mary cringed at the sound of her own voice as she apologized, stammering to explain that the pie was fine, and her comment
must have come from some petty jealousy she hadn't before seen in herself. Cynthia smiled, saying she hadn't taken offense at
all. She was gloating.
"I think Tom and I will be going now" Cynthia announced, sounding even more snobbish than was normal for her. "I'm a little
tired, and these new pumps are hurting my feet."
Wa--what so early?" Mary was alarmed. They'd never left so soon after dinner before.
"I was hoping you guys would stay a while" Mary said. "I wanted to get your opinion on some outfits in next season's catalogs..."
Mary babbled on a bit, panicked to be in disfavor with her Queen.
"Well, I just don't think I can get comfortable here" Cynthia explained.
"I have extra house shoes for you" Mary sighed, almost pleading now.
"Do you have a foot massager, Mary?"
"I'll rub your feet for you, Cynthia" Mary said.
Mary couldn't believe she'd said it, but she had, and Cynthia had a hearty laugh at her expense.
Mary's father called from the dining room to ask what was so funny.
"Your daughters a nut" Cynthia called back. And they all laughed.
Mary was in shock. She'd really humiliated herself with Cynthia this time, and she didn't know what to do.
"Let me sit in your little parlor chair" Cynthia said, still amused. Mary didn't understand, until Cynthia finished from over
her shoulder, "You can massage them through the stockings!"
Mary's head was spinning as she followed Cynthia into the bedroom and watched as Cynthia gracefully lowered her big
sitter into the soft chair.
"They must smell awful" Cynthia said, pointing her right pump at Mary, who still appeared to be in a daze.
"My feet, silly" Cynthia said. "I really think they're going to smell after being squeezed in theses leather pumps all day.
They feel juicy."
Finding her voice, Mary said that she was sure they were fine. Then she went to her knees before her sister-in-law. Mary's
hands trembled on the white leather pump, and she had to find the strength to pull the heel free of Cynthia's foot. the
suction broke with an audible gasp, and a strong vinegary odor was released directly into Mary's face. Cynthia was right. The
smell was potent, and Mary reared back a little.
Cynthia laughed above her. "Believe me now, Mary?"
"They're not bad" Mary said. She was shaken, but Mary would not again risk offending Cynthia. She would tolerate the smell.
"How about now, sweetie" Cynthia said, and began rubbing her sweaty stocking foot on Mary's cheek, using her big toe to poke
at Mary's nose. "Smell it now?"
Mary felt her arms go limp and the shoe tumbled lightly from her hands. She couldn't move as Cynthia rubbed her stocking
foot all over Mary's flushed face. Cynthia was laughing again. Then she suddenly pulled away and sat up straight. She asked
for her shoes, and Mary's whole body trembled as she held them up to her. Cynthia ruffled her hair and took them.
"Why don't you stay here and rest a bit" Cynthia suggested. "I'll tell the folks you're a little under the weather right now. Tom and
I are leaving, anyway."
Mary wanted to say something, but she didn't know what. Cynthia didn't seem interested anyway.
"I want you to come over to the house tomorrow, sugar" Cynthia said. "Tom's out of town this week and I want you to taste-test
another pumpkin pie for me."
Cynthia's laugh faded behind her as Mary watched her sway confidently out f the bedroom, her big, shapely butt moving with a powerful
seduction. Mary felt her body convulse--she grunted loudly with a powerful orgasm, soaking her panties.
A moment later, Mary's mother came in, alarmed to find Mary on the floor, apparently fainted. She brought her daughter a sleeping pill, and
tucked her into bed before saying goodnight.
Mary slept late the next morning, and when she finally got out of bed, she felt oddly fatigued, almost as if she were hung over. She called in
sick to her work for the first time in a couple of years, telling her assistant that she had the stomach flu, which she thought might be true.
Mary was still sitting on the bed when a sensation from the night before hit her like a blow to the head, the heady, sour smell of Cynthia's feet
returned in a charged rush. Mary's body warmed and filled with sexual need, and she pushed her knuckled fist against the crotch of her panties.
Images of the night before returned to her as she rocked her body toward orgasm, but the memory was too unbelievable to be anything but a vivid
dream.
Mary was still recovering from her orgasm when the phone rang. She answered with a breathless "Hello...."
"Good morning, sugar." It was Cynthia. Mary could hear the whirl of the stationary bike in the background of Cynthia's
home gym. Mary suddenly felt nervous and very turned on.
"St--Cynthia...is that you..."
"Yes, Mary, it's me" Cynthia said, amused by Mary's stutter. Your office said you were ill today. Aww...poor thing."
Cynthia had never called her office before.
"Did my foot rub take so much out of you" Cynthia asked.
Mary was stunned. It had happened. She had actually groveled at Cynthia's stocking feet. The realization came
over Mary in a slow but powerful wave, leaving her paralyzed.
"Mary! Are you there?"
"I guess I've got the flu or something" Mary answered, surprised to hear her own voice functioning.
"You fainted, you know" Cynthia said. "Why was that, Mary? I hope it wasn't the smell of my feet!" Cynthia laughed.
Mary felt faint all over again. "No...no. I think I....." Mary hesitated, she didn't know what should come next.
"You had an orgasm, Mary."
Mary dropped the phone, physically jolted by the shock. But the message had been delivered, and all pretense was gone. From
that moment until the rest of their lives, Cynthia would reguard Mary as a desperate, obsessive lesbian who'd been so infatuated
with her that she'd been unable to maintain basic dignity.
"Are you there, Mary?"
"I'm here."
"Good. I was saying I think we need to talk. I want you here in an hour.
Mary would be there. Her day of truth had arrived, and judgement was at hand.
Cynthia answered the door in a red sports bra, small red polyester shorts, red ankle socks, and red
tennis shoes. Her hair was in one long blond braid down her back. She was still working out and her
skin had a ruddy glow.
"Come in" Cynthia said, sounding not too serious, yet clearly disapproving.
"I've got fifteen minutes left on the bike. You can watch unless that's too much for you." If the point was
to rub Mary's nose in the dirty, it worked beautifully.
Mary sat on a bench and watched Cynthia mount the bike, the little seat vanishing under Cynthia's large,
well rounded ass.
"Mary, let's be honest" Cynthia began. What you've made is a pitiful mess of yourself. It was embarrassing
to see you grovel like you did last night. I was shocked. I thought about telling Tom, you know."
"Please don't, Cyn" Mary softly pleaded.
"OH, I wouldn't" Cynthia explained. "I only though about how he would react if I did....and how it would be for
him to know that his perky little sister wanted nothing more than to become my lesbian slave." Cynthia paused
for the effect, letting the words thunder quietly through the room, "lesbian slave!"
"You're rather obvious, you know" Cynthia continued, slowly getting off the bike and wiping her brow. "You're
flirty little smiles and your big, nervous, doe eyes. And the way you kotow to me is embarrassing sometimes.
Oh, I've always known, sugar. But I never thought you'd lower yourself so much like last night...to the point of
sniffing my sweaty stocking feet like a dog."
"You make me feel like a dog" Mary said. "you're so beautiful and superior."
Cynthia smiled, more of a smirk. "Thank you, Mary. I'm glad that you see me that way. It's quite flattering.
And I'm thinking now that it may be convenient for me."
Mary struggled for her voice, "Convenient?"
"Yes, sugar" Cynthia laughed. We superior people have uses for the rest of you, you know. And as long as we're
being so honest today, you may as well know that I have some extra heterosexual interests too."
"I'll do anything for you, Cynthia."
"I know you will. And I'm going to enjoy making you prove it time and again. Like right now, for example. Would
you get down on the floor and untie my workout shoes for me with your teeth, please? But, wait. I really don't have
to say please to you, now do I?"
"No, you don't. I'll do it" Mary replied. She slumped to the floor and crawled on all fours to Cynthia.
"Changed my mind" Cynthia sang out. Mary was on her hands and knees, staring down at the tops of Cynthia's red
athletic shoes.
"Sorry, Rover" Cynthia laughed amusingly. "Maybe later though, huh?"
"Please, Cynthia" Mary whimpered.
"I have a much better idea for you" Cynthia explained. "Why don't you use your nose to wipe the shine off my bike seat.
It must still be warm and smelling delicious from my big ass."
Mary nodded her head weakly. Her arms shook as she crawled past Cynthia's feet, and raised herself to see the bicycle
seat that had so recently been devoured under Cynthia's massive butt.
"Smell it" Cynthia demanded. And Mary obeyed, haltingly touching the leather with the tip of her nose, and then gliding it
over the smooth, slick terrain. The odor was strong and heady---this was Cynthia's pussy, Cynthia's ass. Mary wanted to
put her mouth on he seat, to taste, but Cynthia hadn't told her to slaver, and she still had a small bit of dignity.
"Kiss it" Cynthia commanded. Mary did, pressing her lips to the leather.
"Just once, Mary. Now look up at me."
Mary's head felt heavy and big as she tilted it back to look up at Cynthia towering over her. When she looked into Cynthia's
brown eyes, Mary felt the familiar warm liquid building in her crotch.
"Look at you" Cynthia said, looking down at Mary. "you're powerless over your own body. Why do you think that is, sugar?"
"it's you" Mary replied. "I'm powerless around you."
Cynthia laughed again, and turned as if to walk away from her kneeling sis-in-law. But she stopped with her butt right in front
of Mary's face, the large, round globes stretching the thin blue material to the max.
"You love my ass don't you, Mary?"
"Oh God! Yes I do, Cynthia!" Mary was beside herself, amazed that those twin worlds of womanhood finally loomed over her,
dwarfing her dizzy head in both size and loveliness.
"Maybe you'll get to kiss it later" Cynthia said, reaching back to rub her manicured hands up and down her bionic cheeks.
"Right now I want a massage."
The miracle came a moment later when Mary's long-held dream finally played out in life. Cynthia began to slowly take her clothes
off. When she was nude, Mary had an orgasm right on the floor. Cynthia instantly recognized the trauma and laughed at her helpless
new slave. In all of her glorious, confident nudity, Cynthia strode to the massage table and lay on her tummy.
After a few seconds of whimpers and gasps, Mary crawled to the table. Instantly, her eyes locked on Cynthia's colossal globes. Nude,
they were round and just as smooth as they'd looked in al of those skirts and dresses. Mary's eyes mapped the curves and drank in
the skin's texture. Her nose accepted the subtle odor rising from Cynthia's body, vaguely sweet, but unmistakably heady.
Mary imagined the weight of this ass on her face, the feeling of being helplessly pinned, squashed, and smothered in a vulgar display of
humiliation and submission. It would be a struggle to even breath under those globes. Would she even be allowed rations of air? Or
was the point that she slaver and suck until she went faint.
Again, Mary felt the juices trickling down her inner thighs. She was approaching orgasm just from this.
:Use the clear oil, Mary" the dry command bringing Mary back to reality.
Mary was surprised to find that the oil was greasy, like baby oil, but thicker. She poured it into her hands and reached for Cynthia's ass.
The first touch sent quivers through her sex. The large, meaty buttocks were soft, firm, and springy.
"Mmmmm" Cynthia softly purred. "I love oil on my skin. It's not always easy to find a subbie to do it."
"I'm glad to do it" Mary whispered.
"Work it in, slut. Use plenty on my cheeks. I like to baby them while they're free. With my figure, even tailored clothes tend to fit very
tight in the rear. But I'll bet you've noticed that, haven't you?"
"Yes, I have."
"That's why it feels so wonderful to be nude and exposed to sensations like oil. Oh, that reminds me, I never bath for the day until after
my workout, so I may be a little sour back there."
Mary was breathless.
Cynthia purred to the feel of Mary's hands on the back of her thighs, and continued with the evil in her voice, "Sometimes, I'll sit up on the
table after a massage, and the oil will leave a little color on the towel under me.
Mary's face went hot, and her nose flared and drew deeper into what she was smelling, a distinct heady odor--bittersweet. Mary's head moved
down until her face brushed a sumptuous ass-cheek. She pressed her whole face into Cynthia's left buttock.
"You little lizzy pervert" Cynthia hissed over her shoulder. "Only a dog would French kiss another woman's butt."
Mary abandoned herself to Cynthia's ass-cheek, lapping shamelessly and making whimpering sounds.
"Stop!" Cynthia bellowed the command back to Mary, who was shocked into immediate compliance.
"That's enough of that, you pathetic butt licker. I'm going to make you even more perverted now. You're going down between my cheeks."
"But you're not clean" Mary pleaded.
"Oh, are you wondering if I might stain my towel today? Don't worry, sugar. Just think of it as my new spiced pumpkin pie."
Cynthia laughed heartily, and reached back behind her, grabbing Mary's auburn hair in her fist, and guided Mary's face between
her big, meaty buttocks.
"ummpph...ummpphh..."
'
