Part 1
It was something of a truism that, if you dug deep enough every neighborhood, no matter how small, had its mysteries and a rare few of those were even actually mysteries. Famous crimes, strange disappearances, spooky occurrences and unexplained phenomenon, the kind of things that might even draw in tourists or a television crew if the neighborhood was insistent enough in promoting itself. Of course, most neighborhood mysteries were completely mundane. Little more than housewife gossip, the type passed around church pews and barbecues, or wildly exaggerated stories that became little more than urban legends, if they were interesting enough. Hickory Lane could not even claim that much. Oh, there was certainly plenty of gossip, that seemed to be something of a universal constant, but most of it was of an utterly mundane sort. The Emerson divorce had been the biggest news in a while, but that ended up being too painfully amicable to make for a good story. No, the real enduring mystery of the neighborhood was a house. Not a haunted house, nothing so interesting, just an old house. It was a nice house, most would agree, a small two-story affair at the far end of the block right next to a thicket of hickory trees that had given the development its name once upon a time enclosed by a wooden fence in the back. Now, who had built the house and when was something of a mystery. No one in the neighborhood was entirely certain just how long it had been there, though most agreed that it had to have been among the first homes built here and certainly the oldest still standing, but that was hardly the sort of mystery that got tongues wagging. Nor was the house some rundown and abandoned ruin of an earlier age. The building itself was clean and well kept, the shutters painted, the yard and the gardens in the back were neatly tended and the pool was cleaned regularly. That was no mystery either since the house was occupied and had been for years. No, as was also traditional, the true mystery of 137 N. Hickory Lane was its residents.
Two young women were known to make that house their home and had for years, though again if pressed no one could say precisely when they had moved there. One of the residents, Sofia Petrovna was, in fact, quite well known. Though her slightly ageless features made it hard to tell just how old she actually was, the blonde haired, blue eyed and quite friendly woman was something of a fixture in the community. Each morning, weather permitting, Sofia went jogging around the neighborhood, the sports bra and short shorts she wore showing off a toned and athletic frame. In the spring and summer she mowed the lawn, trimmed the trees, tended the garden and did work on the house while in the fall she raked leaves and the winter months saw her wielding a snow shovel. Indeed most assumed she was the house’s caretaker since no one else was ever seen working on it and she seemed to have no other job. Despite that she was almost perpetually energetic and happy, always greeting passers-by with a wave and a smile, a faint Russian accent lending her an exotic air. She happily played with the neighborhood children, never refused to help her neighbors with their own yard work and it was something of a truth of the universe among the block’s kids that come Halloween Sofia’s house had the best candy. Friendly and beautiful, she was also the object of more than a few teenage fantasies, and some of the neighborhood boys insisted that they’d seen her sunbathing topless by the pool. Of course, no one who claimed to have seen it could produce any proof though that certainly didn’t stop the stories.
Sofia’s housemate, on the other hand, was a bit of a mystery. Roxanna Kormou seemed to be something of a recluse. She was rarely seen outside of the house and even more rarely during the day. Appearing to be of a similar age to Sofia, Roxanna’s dark hair and eyes, coupled with her name and light olive skin suggested a Mediterranean heritage and those who had heard her speak (which were not many) claimed she had a thick accent, though not an incomprehensible one. She was thin, but by no means athletic, preferred to cover herself with long sleeves and high collars even in summer, and moved with the sort of deliberate stiffness that suggested an old and poorly healed injury. At a glance most would assume that Sofia was her caretaker as well, that Roxanna had been in some sort of accident and a friend or perhaps even a distant relative (as unlikely as that seemed) had moved in to care for her home and see to her needs. Of course, gossip being what it was, more than a few hinted that the pair’s relationship was a touch more intimate than that. Once upon a time someone had actually asked Sofia if the pair were lovers and, in her typically friendly fashion, she just smiled and said, “Of course I love her.” While that didn’t really answer the question, and most just shook their heads and assumed that, English not being her first language, Sofia hadn’t fully understood the question, it nonetheless cemented the rumor in place as part of the block’s folklore. Of course, in the twentieth century a lesbian couple living at the end of the block was hardly the sort of thing to get a neighborhood up in arms, although the number of teenage fantasies certainly saw an increase that day.
Still, despite all this Roxanna herself remained something of a mystery that gave rise to all sorts of stories. She clearly had money if she could afford to keep property without a visible job. Was she some sort of heiress? The relative of a celebrity? Perhaps a political refugee? That would certainly explain the mysterious injuries and accent. Others suggested the more mundane, and probably correct, explanation that she was either self-employed and had the sort of job that allowed one to work out of the home or had received an insurance settlement for her injuries but that was far too mundane for most. Whatever the case might be, though, no one really knew. Sofia always insisted it wasn’t her place to say and Roxanna only offered an annoyed glare the few times anyone had tried to ask her. Most assumed it was either too personal or too painful and let it go. To all of this the neighborhood children had added their own, far more amusing stories. Given her reclusive nature and apparent hate of natural light the younger kids said she was obviously a vampire or a demon, maybe even a witch or some other kind of monster hiding in plain sight. Perhaps trying to sound more reasonable, older kids said she was a criminal who had been betrayed. That she had faked her death and was hiding out in this boring neighborhood to lie low and recover from the torture her rivals had subjected her to and that Sofia was the faithful bodyguard or loyal right hand that had rescued her. Edging back into the territory of fantasies some versions of this tale suggested that Sofia was actually her slave and such stories often included lurid speculation of the torments the sadistic crime boss subjected her blonde plaything to. No one had ever asked if either Sofia or Roxanna had an opinion on these tales, though that was probably for the best.
Brianna Wilde knew all of these stories, of course. She liked to think she knew more about the two mysterious women than anyone else on the block, having lived next door to them for most of her life. Her parents had moved to the neighborhood when she was young and for a long time she hadn’t even known there had been rumors about her neighbors. As a child all she’d known was that the pretty blonde lady next door let her play in the yard, pick flowers in the garden and even swim in the pool. She’d always liked Sofia’s accent and had even been inside the old house a time or two, a fact that had made her feel like the queen of the playground when her friends had found out. By contrast Roxanna could be a little scary, especially as she always seemed to be frowning when Sofia wasn’t around, but she also always had cookies when Brianna came by and let her borrow books from the huge library in the den. Of course, in time the nature of her relationship to her neighbors had changed. She didn’t play in the yard anymore, visited the house only rarely and hadn’t swum in the pool for years. Nowadays she really didn’t even speak to them much, save for a friendly hello now and then. Part of that was growing up, she was in her last year of high school now, but part of it was embarrassment. In her more honest moment Brianna could admit that she had become somewhat obsessed with the pair.
It had started innocently enough when she was fourteen. Unable to sleep, one morning she had gotten up extremely early and, glancing out the window of her room in the second story dormer, had seen Sofia returning from her early morning run. That was nothing new, she had seen Sofia in her exercise clothes before, but this morning her new found hormones decided to take notice. The woman’s toned muscles were clearly visible beneath skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her ample breasts bounced tantalizingly with each step and an ass you bounce a quarter off of was neatly displayed by those tight shorts. She had been too young at the time to really understand, or at least admit to herself, why she stared in rapt fascination but since then it had become a ritual for Brianna to wake up early every day to watch Sofia leave and then return from her morning run. It embarrassed her a little, but not enough to stop. About two years or so later the truth had smashed her in the face like a brick. It had been a Saturday afternoon and Brianna could remember coming up to her room to get something (though for the life of her she could not remember what) and had just happened to look out the window which offered a clear view over the fence of the small pool that dominated the yard next door. She had been in that yard many times but by luck or happenstance Brianna Wilde had looked out the window just in time to see Sofia walk out the back door wearing a bikini that redefined “barely there.” Unable to tear her gaze away, she had stared, face blazing, as the statuesque blonde dove into the pool, swam a half dozen laps and climbed out to sun herself. It was the first time she had been able to confirm, after a fashion, one of the local rumors. Sofia did not sunbathe topless, rather she shed her entire suit before laying her nude frame out on a beach chair beneath the porch awning to enjoy the heat of the day. Indeed, Brianna had learned a lot of things that day, including more than a few things about herself.
That had become a new tradition in the summer months, finding an excuse in the early afternoon to retreat to her room and peek out the window, hoping to catch another glimpse. Unlike her running schedule Sofia did not seem to swim regularly, but over the years Brianna had caught the woman taking a dip in a number of scandalously scant swimsuits before sunning herself nude on the back patio. After that sexual awakening she’d begun to fantasize about the blonde, especially as she touched herself, and had dreamed about her more than once, concocting any one of a thousand impossible scenarios about seducing the older woman, everything from bluntly confessing her feelings to arranging a “chance” encounter one afternoon during a sunbathing session, but of course she’d never dared act on any of it. She had no idea how to seduce anyone, and besides that she was still just a kid and even if she was sure Sofia would be kind about it she didn’t want to hear the inevitable rejection and spoil the increasingly elaborate fantasies she was building. It was just a bit of harmless fun, she told herself, and it certainly wasn’t hurting anyone.
The moment in which she had become truly obsessed, though, came one winter when she was seventeen and, quite by accident, confirmed a second rumor. By that time Brianna was more or less comfortable in her bisexuality and had come out to her parents, a nerve racking experience that proved to be extremely anticlimactic, not that she was bothered by that. She had even gone on a few dates with people her own age, though none of them had really lasted long. Perhaps subconsciously none of them could compare to her crush or maybe it was just high school. In any case, she remembered that evening clearly enough. She had already changed for bed and turned out the lights and was just finishing up by setting the alarm clock when she noticed something odd. Looking out her window she saw that the curtains of the neighbor’s second story window across from hers were open and a light was on, showing off a small but well appointed bedroom. She had never been in the upstairs of the old house and as far as she knew the curtains had never been open. In fact it was something of a truism that the curtains were always drawn on the second story windows of 137 N. Hickory Lane. Still she hadn’t really given it that much thought at the time and probably would have just as quickly forgotten the incident but then, as if summoned, a door opened and Roxanna stepped into the room completely naked.
The first thing Brianna had noted was that the olive-skinned woman was striking. While she lacked the toned and athletic build that Sofia cultivated, her body had the sort of slender and graceful symmetry that many prized. The second thing she noticed were the woman’s scars and there were certainly a lot of them. The long and vertical lines of slashes that had clearly cut deep, irregular puckered marks that suggested either stab wounds or broken bones that had burst through the skin, and large pale splashes that might have been burns of some type. They ran down her neck and onto her shoulders and arms, down her body and legs, sparse in some places and heavy in others. Her right side had been particularly savaged and the knot of angry scars over her hip certainly explained why she walked so stiffly. It also explained why Roxanna covered herself so thoroughly, even in summer months, and yet despite the clear evidence of the cruelty she had suffered (Brianna had trouble believing that such marks were the result of an accident) the woman still stood proudly, unbowed by the misfortunes that had marred her. It was no one thing that she could put her finger on, but in that moment Brianna thought the woman was fiercely beautiful.
The tableau was broken not a heartbeat later when Sofia emerged into the room, equally naked, and the small scowl that seemed permanently etched into Roxanna’s face melted away into a gentle smile. The brunette said something then, but Brianna was much too far away to hear and had no idea how to read lips, though whatever it was Sofia laughed uproariously before she wrapped her arms around the other woman’s waist and pulled her into a deep kiss. Brianna remembered her face flushing in embarrassment and excitement as proof positive was laid out right before her eyes that the two really were lovers. At least she was pretty sure they were, after all friends didn’t usually engage in naked tongue kissing, even in Europe. Any remaining doubt was thoroughly shredded a moment later when the two tumbled into bed. Brianna had realized then, her breath quickening and her nipples hardening at the sight unfolding before her very eyes, that hidden in the shadows of her room as she was, the pair could not see her even if they had been paying attention. She’d swallowed hard at the revelation and lowered herself into her desk chair, biting her lip and squeezing her thighs together as she watched, guilt and arousal warring within her.
She knew what sex was, having lost her own virginity recently, and anyone with Internet access and enough cleverness to get around parental controls had ready access to as much porn as they could stand but watching this felt different. This was real and it was really happening right in front of her, this was a pair of people she knew, this was a woman she had a crush on. Brianna knew that she should have looked away, but couldn’t help herself and so, despite feeling very much like a pervert, she kept watching. She watched as the pair kissed and caressed each other. She watched as fingers and lips and tongues were used to tease out orgasm after orgasm, the lovers writhing and twisting and moaning as they pleasured each other. And she watched as they ground their bodies together, riding a wave of mutual ecstasy before collapsing together into a pile of limbs, embracing each other tightly as they kissed and, finally, drifted off to sleep in each others’ arms. Compared to some of the pictures and videos she had seen it had been a rather vanilla performance all things told, but in that moment Brianna felt more turned on than she had ever had before. Once it was over and she was certain no one had noticed her she had practically dived into bed, a hand down her shorts and between her slick thighs before the blanket had even settled. She came fast and hard that night, the tableaux dancing in her mind, as she dreamed of being trapped between a blonde goddess and a scarred beauty as the pair ravished her helpless form.
In the months since that had become the third of her rituals, checking her window each night before bed to see if the curtains had been left open. They hadn’t been so far, and she honestly wasn’t certain if she was disappointed or relieved at that. She still watched Sofia exercise each morning, admiring her body and the way it moved as she jogged, and now that the heat seemed to be upon them again Sofia had re-opened the pool. She had taken her first swim last week, in fact, and Brianna had been lucky enough to see it and the show that followed. A part of her, the more honest part, knew that what she was doing was wrong, that these voyeuristic rituals of hers were a gross violation of privacy but she could not bring herself to stop. She could justify watching Sofia exercise, after all the woman had other admirers and she didn’t seem to mind them, and she could almost justify watching her sunbathe since it was in public (although the presence of the fence suggested the woman might think it wasn’t), but this? Checking the windows each night in hopes of catching her neighbors having sex? There was no justification for that.
As she prepared for bed, changing into a pair of shorts and a loose tank top, those thoughts bothered Brianna as they did most nights. Every day it seemed like she resolved not to look, but each night she did. She was eighteen now, would be graduating in just over a month and then heading off to college in the fall and here she was still acting like a kid with a crush on an older woman. No, worse than that she was behaving like some kind of obsessed freak, the kind you saw on TV or in movies. Sighing, she straightened out her shirt, wincing a little as the cloth brushed against nipples still sensitive from being recently pierced, and pulled her brightly dyed hair into a tight ponytail before walking over to her desk to set the alarm. Almost unconsciously she looked up to glance out the window and scan the house next door as she had done hundreds of times. This time her breath caught in her throat. The curtains were open. She spent a moment frozen in indecision, part of her screaming that she should just go to bed and forget about it but she could not bring herself to move. The decision was made a heartbeat later when the door across the way swung open and, in a slight panic, Brianna threw herself into the shadows beside the window. Trembling slightly in a heady mix of anticipation and dread she leaned in to get a clear view.
As before, Roxanna stepped into the room first as naked as the day she was born, limping slightly but otherwise she seemed quite pleased with herself. Her long brown hair was loose and she seemed to be smiling slightly. Stopping in the middle of the room she paused to glance over her shoulder and said something, though again Brianna had no idea what it was. The girl gasped then in shock as Sofia appeared, equally naked and smiling widely, her hands on the shoulders of yet another woman whom she was guiding into the room. Brianna drank in the sight. This third woman, whomever she was, was bound tightly and cruelly. A catsuit of latex, translucent though slightly smoky in color, clung tightly to every curve of her body and showed off her short and thin form. It was hard to make out at this distance, but Brianna thought she could see the black lines of tattoos on the skin beneath but the only part of the woman’s body left exposed were her small breasts while a currently closed zipper on her crotch granted access. Her arms were tightly pulled behind her back, a monoglove locking them together wrist to elbow which forced her shoulders back and made her breasts stand out even more. A shiny silver collar circled her throat and last, but not least, a hood of the same skin tight latex covered her head. The hood was pitch black, completely obscuring the woman’s identity, while a tight blindfold covered her eyes, rendering her completely helpless. The only openings in the hood were a pair of small holes for the nostrils and a cutout around the mouth. And oh that mouth, wrenched wide open, lips forced into an ‘O’ of surprise by a ring gag that showed off a pierced tongue nestled within, cruel straps cutting into her cheeks to lock the thing in place.
Brianna felt her breath quickening, nipples hard despite the lingering soreness of her piercings, and pussy clenched in anticipation at the unfolding sight. Roxanna then stepped up to the bound woman, a smile curving her lips as she set her hands on latex covered hips. The woman trembled at the contact, though out of anticipation or dread Brianna could not say, and seemed to jerk slightly in Sofia’s grip as those hands ran up her sides to cup her small breasts. Roxanna played with those captive breasts for several moments, making the bound woman jerk in her grip, especially when slender fingers pinched her nipples. One of those hands then dropped down between the bound woman’s thighs, a pair of fingers stroking her captive pussy with what looked like maddening softness. This time the bound woman jerked hard, thrusting her hips forward and throwing her head back in what looked like a moan as if desperate for more contact. Roxanna seemed pleased with this reaction, though she ended her ministrations in response, instead cupping the bound woman’s cheeks and pressed a kiss to that helplessly gagged mouth.
Brianna licked her suddenly dry lips, hands rising to play with her own breasts as she squirmed in place, imagining for a moment what it would be like to be gag kissed like that. Across the way Roxanna broke the kiss then and whispered something to her plaything before she turned to walk toward the bed, the bound woman’s pierced tongue still protruding from the gag as if she were begging for more. Sofia obliged, cupping the woman’s chin and turning her head slightly to capture her in a second kiss, a kiss just as deep. Roxanna then climbed onto the bed, sitting upright with her back leaning against the headboard and legs spread wide. Taking that as a cue, Sofia broke the kiss and guided the bound woman to the bed and forced her to kneel on it. Somewhat awkwardly she was pushed into the center, still on her knees, before Roxanna grabbed her head and forced her to bend over until her shapely ass was pointed straight up in the air, head nestled between the scarred beauty’s thighs. Almost immediately Roxanna’s eyes closed as she leaned back, biting her lip, and it did not take a genius to figure out what was going on. As her lover was being eaten out, Sofia crossed to the dresser and produced a strap-on from the top drawer, slowly buckling the thing around her hips as she watched. Unable to help herself, Brianna began to stroke her own pussy through her shorts as she clenched her jaw in order to keep quiet. Finally, Sofia climbed onto the bed herself, gripping the bound woman about the waist and giving her latex clad posterior a few playful smacks before slowly opening the zipper between the legs. Brianna then watched, in rapt fascination, as the blonde pulled a sizable plug from the woman’s ass and she could swear the bound woman was trembling as the strap-on slowly slid in to replace it.
Roxanna seemed unaware or uncaring of all this as she continued to hold that captive mouth against her pussy, moaning in pleasure under the ministrations of what was clearly a skilled tongue, as Sofia began to fuck the ass of their bound plaything. Brianna couldn’t say how much time passed as the bound woman was held in place, bucking and squirming and straining against the monoglove as Sofia held her around the waist and took her with ever more frantic thrusts while she was forced to lick pussy. All she could say for certain, as she watched Roxanna cry out in pleasure again and again while Sofia shuddered in climax as she fucked the helpless woman, was that her own nipples were painfully hard, almost throbbing as they stood out proudly beneath her shirt, and her shorts were becoming soaked as she stroked herself with ever increasing intensity, thighs pressed tightly together as she desperately tried to hold back her own building orgasm.
Finally, the show did end, almost anticlimactically. At some unseen cue Sofia pulled out of the woman, making her shudder again, before replacing the butt plug and zipping her back up, which she seemed to protest most fiercely if her squirming hips were any indication, and Roxanna wrenched the helplessly gagged mouth away from her pussy, flushed and breathing heavily. The trio stayed like that for a handful of heartbeats before Sofia climbed off the bed and began to remove the strap-on, recovering a pair of belts from the dresser as she did so. Still flushed, Roxanna turned the woman over and then forced her to lay down on her back before taking a cloth from the nightstand and using it to clean her latex encasement. As she worked, Sofia returned and used the belts to pin the woman’s legs together tightly. As they prepared their companion for bed, Brianna noted that the woman was fidgeting and squirming in their grasp as well as shaking slightly, almost as if she was crying within. It was then that she realized, with a new flash of arousal that almost made her cum right then and there, that the bound woman had not been allowed to orgasm. In whatever it was that had just happened she had been nothing more than a toy, a thing to be used for the enjoyment of her mistresses, her own pleasure meaningless. Eventually they finished and Roxanna said something to her lover. Whatever it was, the pair smiled a bit at each other before leaning over the helpless form of their bound companion to kiss. They then snuggled up to either side of the bound woman’s still squirming and latex encased form as Sofia turned off the light and the trio settled in for what would be, for one of them, a long and sleepless night.
Forcing her hands to still, and waiting a handful of moments to make sure she wouldn’t be seen, Brianna made her way carefully to bed, wincing slightly as her clammy thighs rubbed together. As soon as the blanket covered her she shoved a hand down her soaked shorts and thrust her fingers into her equally soaked pussy, muscles clenching almost instantly around the intrusion. She bit down hard on the edge of her pillow to stifle her moans as her fingers began to thrust in and out. The scene ran through her head, over and over again, of the bound woman being teased and used and forced to eat pussy. She came almost immediately, her muffled cry filling the night air (or so it seemed), but she continued to thrust into herself desperately, arousal far from spent. Brianna had fantasized about her neighbors many times. Sometimes she had dreamed of being with Sofia, sometimes with Roxanna, but lately she often dreamed of being with both of them, of being trapped between them as they touched and kissed and fucked. Now those fantasies took on a darker turn as she imagined herself being tightly and cruelly bound, a ring gag shoved into her mouth as she was blindfolded and teased. Of being punished until she agreed to eat pussy, her own pussy teased as her arousal spiraled higher and higher, but was never allowed to break. Her quivering flesh being edged and tormented, the climax she so desperately needed denied again and again as her tormentors came and came, mocking her with their pleasure. And, at last, a sudden stop, her captors holding her tight, still teasing her helplessly bound body as her pussy throbbed and she begged for mercy as best she could around the gag. Mercy that would never come, much like her.
It was that which pushed her over the edge again and Brianna bit into her pillow a second time to stifle her scream as she came harder than she could ever remember cumming before. Spent and panting and sweaty she shivered a little as she pulled her fingers out of herself and lay quietly in the dark, waiting for her breath to slow. Guess I’m submissive then, she thought, mind still scattered and body shivering, and bondage really does it for me. Good to know. She could not help but giggle at that, still more than a little drunk on pleasure. But even as her heart slowed back down and she got her breathing under control, Brianna’s mind continued to race. Who was that woman? As far as she knew no one had ever spoken of a third person living in the house and there did not seem to be any regular visitors from outside the neighborhood and few enough from within it. Obviously the hood made it impossible to identify who the bound woman might have been, but Brianna didn’t think she matched the description of any of the local girls. It was probably just some stranger, maybe someone they met through the Internet or a pickup at a bar, who had agreed to a night of fun. She found herself giggling again as she imagined the gossip if the neighborhood had any idea just how freaky the local lesbian couple actually was. Eventually, as her thoughts stilled and she finally drifted off to deep sleep one thing dominated Brianna’s mind.
If the pair were willing to do things like that then maybe, just maybe she had a chance after all.