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My wife Abigail sank back in the hand tooled Italian leather chair in her home office and looked across her desk at her best friend Molly who was nervously stirring the cream into her tea. The two women were an interesting contrast. Abigail with an elegant and luscious build which stemmed from her largely Scandinavian ancestry was tall and lithe with large C-cup breasts that were nothing short of a natural wonder of the world and just the right flair of hips that made men look twice regardless of whether she was wearing blue jeans, or a business suit. She had finished at the top of her class in law school, and had enjoyed a successful career in a prestigious practice, before we started to have kids and she decided to hang out her own shingle and work from home to be there to raise them.

Molly, on the other hand was a quiet ginger. Shorter than Abigail by nearly a head, smaller but pert breasts, and a toned but somewhat more muscular gymnasts build from the waist down. It was a look that had a very definite and earthy charm, which had not escaped my notice. She was younger than Abigail by 7 or 8 years, but the two had grown close through PTA appointments and church committees, and by virtue of the fact that our kids were all around the same age.

“So, Molly. You sounded pretty upset when you called earlier and you’re obviously worked up about something. You want to tell me about it?” Abigail asked.

“I’m not sure what to do, Abby. I need a friend I can rely on to help me out of a bit of a jam, and you’re the only one I’d trust that way.” Molly stated.

“Well, we’ve always been here for each other, Molly. I’ll do what I can to help, but you have to tell me what’s going on. You look like you’re a nervous wreck.” Abigail said.

“You know I told you it took me an extra semester or so graduating college, and that I didn’t meet Bob until a couple of years afterwards. I’ve never told you, or anyone else for that matter, why it took me longer to graduate.” Molly offered.

“Molly, lots of people take a little extra time to graduate college. I had always assumed it was the normal stuff. Getting a particularly tough professor in a key course, or some such thing.” Abigail speculated.

“Abby, what I’m about to tell you must remain between you and I. If Bob or the kids ever found out…I don’t know what they’d do, or what they’d think of me, and I really don’t want them to know…” Molly trailed off.

“Come Resim Yükle on, Molly, what could be that bad? You’re one of the most straight laced mom’s I know. I can’t imagine you doing anything outrageous.” Abigail encouraged. “But if it’ll make you feel any better, whatever you tell me will remain confidential.”

Molly seemed visibly relieved at this reassurance. She looked at Abigail sitting across the desk, said something about everyone having a darker side at one point or another in life, took a deep breath and began her tale.

It had been junior year in college, when her roommate had come up with the idea. One of her sorority sisters was making a small fortune dancing in a local strip club and she’d said that the club owner was looking for some fresh talent. It’d be like shooting fish in a barrel, she said. It’d be easy money, she said. It’d help keep the student loans to a minimum, she said. So they hopped in her car and twenty minutes later were in a neon soaked parking lot in one of the less reputable neighborhoods of the city.

At first it was everything her roommate’s sorority sister said it was and more. Guys giving her cash, and buying her drinks. Her roommate was totally into the scene, working extra shifts if a girl couldn’t make it. Partying like she didn’t have a care in the world. Schoolwork piled up undone, grades slipped, and then her roommate started bringing guys home. Guys with cash and expectations. That’s when she met Maggie.

Maggie was an older dancer. Well, probably in her early thirties. Mostly she ignored other dancers, but for some reason Molly couldn’t figure out, she kept an eye out for her, making sure she didn’t go overboard, making sure the creeps kept their distance. It wasn’t like she was sweet, but she was pragmatic, and effective, and above all… assertive.

One night, after the roommate had disappeared back to their room with another trick, Maggie offered to let Molly crash at her place. It had become so difficult that the offer seemed like salvation…at least for one night, anyway.

Maggie had poured a glass of wine for them both, and they relaxed on the couch watching TV. A program had just finished and they had both gone back into the kitchen with their glasses for another round, when Maggie turned toward Molly and asked her why she thought she was looking out for her?

“I don’t know.” Molly said. “I just thought you had a soft spot and didn’t want to see me getting screwed up like my roommate.”

“I did it because I see something in you…something I don’t see in many girls.” Maggie said, pushing Molly back against the refrigerator.

It happened quickly. Maggie’s hand found Molly’s throat, pinioning her against the refrigerator, and bringing her mouth down upon Molly’s with a hunger that made Molly’s knees almost give way. Maggie’s tongue was in her mouth and she was too shocked to react other than to hold still and not struggle. Maggie grunted an order to Molly to take her clothes off. And Molly found that without thought she was pushing her pants down to the floor.

It wasn’t that she was into girls, it was just that Maggie was just so much in control of the situation. She knew what she wanted and Molly couldn’t find a reason to say no. And the hand on her throat, the slightly threatening tone of Maggie’s voice had her a wet mess. And suddenly she was naked in front of this woman. It couldn’t be helped.

Maggie grabbed a fist full of hair and dragged her back into the living room. Stuck a DVD into the machine, and then situated Molly on the couch like a rag doll. The screen lit up with women. Women doing things to other women that Molly had never even imagined. Sexual things. But sexual with an overtone of control. And Maggie’s fingers were at work. Molly was fascinated, and turned on, and Maggie had brought her to the edge of the precipice, and she was aware of questions being asked and her voice responding and begging Maggie that she’d do anything for release. And when Maggie relented, it was the best orgasm of Molly’s life up until that point, and as it overwhelmed her, her will faded and her service to Maggie began.

The woman was an artist. She could make Molly cum just by spanking her. In fact it became an occasional feature at the club where they’d do a little lesbian scene where Maggie would put her through her paces while the guys cheered on. It was humiliating in such profound ways…but she came so hard that it was impossible to do anything other than submit. So submit she did.

She had stopped going to classes. She was for all intents and purposes living with Maggie. Waking up and going to sleep with her tongue buried in the older woman’s pussy, and loving every time the crop hit her ass driving her face deeper in. She didn’t have to think, she just had to be. Listen to instructions and follow them. She was Maggie’s lesbian fucktoy, and that was what she was meant to be. It’s what she had convinced herself she wanted to be…

She hadn’t been there when the cops showed up and arrested Maggie. Something about multiple counts of embezzlement and failure to appear. It didn’t go well. And in a matter of a few weeks she was homeless and hopeless and Maggie was in jail. Somehow she got her life back on track. She was disgusted at what had happened to her, but even more worried about how much she had loved it. She finished school and met Bob, and swore that nobody would ever know what she’d been.

Abigail looked sympathetically at her friend. “So why tell me…why tell me this now?”

“A week ago, I got an email from the stepson of the old club owner.” She confessed. “Seems he’d passed away and in cleaning up the place the stepson had found an old video… one of the scenes Maggie did with me with a note about the cast of characters. It took a while to find her but the Internet was a wonderful thing. He said $2000 would make it go away, but I can’t do that without Bob noticing… I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“Depends,” Abigail said. “I’ll handle him from here. I have resources, and I’m pretty sure we can make it so Bob never finds out.”

Two weeks later, Molly was gushing with admiration. Abigail held aloft not one, but two DVDs.

“The first one is your little sex scene with Maggie.” Abigail stated proudly. “But for the coup de grace, the second is footage of him at the meeting, which I had filmed, admitting to the whole extortion scheme…on the record. The guy was a real idiot, and pissed and moaned as he handed the check back to me on the promise that we wouldn’t prosecute…”

“Oh Abby, you’re the best friend ever…” Molly gushed.

“Yeah, well as you said, everyone has a darker side…” Abigail replied grabbing Molly’s throat and pushing her against the wall feeling her friend melt.

When I got home from work that night, I found Abigail in her office, naked in her chair. Her perfect breasts heaving with each wave of sexual pleasure. Molly’s mouth was glued to Abby’s pussy as she worked her up to yet another climax. Abby’s eyes drifted over to me in a slow satiated blissful trance. As Molly lapped obediently at her twat in between declarations that she was now Abby’s exclusive property and lesbian fucktoy.

“Hi, honey… as you can see Molly’s stopped by… She looks sweet, don’t you think? Oh…oh…oh…”

Boy, was Bob going to be in for a bit of a surprise…

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