An Association With Pleasure
âPleasure is a drug, sweetie,â Wynonna whispers in Dahliaâs ear. Sheâs the only one whose mouth is still unoccupied; Betty Lu is sucking on Dahliaâs pert pink nipple until it stands up stiff and proud in between the other blondeâs lips, long enough for Bettyâs wet tongue to flick over it again and again with a dancing rhythm that leaves the helpless young woman wetter than she ever thought possible. And Charlene is down on all fours with her face buried in between Dahliaâs thighs, licking away the musk almost as fast as it leaks out between her labia with a diligence that makes everything fade away into a haze of mindless bliss. That just leaves Wynonna to do the programming. But sheâs very good at it.
âYou can feel that drug coursing through your blood with every heartbeat now, every throbbing pulse of your swollen clitty.â The brunetteâs voice is soft and sweet, with a lilting Southern purr that tickles the sensitive skin around Dahliaâs neck and makes her shiver with arousal. âItâs going straight up to your brain, making you feel weak and drowsy and addicted to being fucked like this. Every time you try to struggle, sweetie, every time you try to resist us even a little, youâre going to feel another hit of that deep, strong pleasure all the way in the center of your mind and youâre going to know that you canât fight us. Pretty soon you wonât even want to try.â
Dahlia wants to spit back defiance, to tell the others that sheâs a good Christian girl with good Christian values and she doesnât care how easy they fell victim to this, this⊠this lesbian sex cult or whatever the fuck the âSouthern Womenâs Service Associationâ really is. But her breath keeps hitching in her throat every time Wynonna teases her nipples with those strong, precise fingers and her efforts to break free are indistinguishable from her wriggling, needy attempts to hump Charleneâs face and she canât seem to open her eyes anymore. Sheâs getting weaker. Sheâs being drugged by the pleasure just like Wynonna said she would, and itâs just too hard to fight it anymore. âItâs such a perfect high, cumming for us, isnât it, sweetie pie?â Wynonna murmurs, and Dahlia feels her head lolling in a lazy nod.
âThatâs such a good girl!â Wynonna coos, the other woman redoubling the intensity of their oral ministrations as though the whole thing has been perfectly choreographed. For all Dahlia knows, it has been; certainly all of her friends seem to know just what to do and how to lick and where to touch to make Dahlia melt into a warm puddle of slick, needy lust on the clubhouse couch. The scent of sex fills the room, a hazy mist that sends her deeper into arousal and obedience with every breath. She never knew her body was capable of feeling this good. She never wants them to stop making it feel better still.
Dahlia cums again, another in a string of orgasms that sheâs long ago lost count of. Her brain swims in a sea of pleasure, the hazy afterglow mixing with the anticipation of her next climax and mingling with the waves of euphoria she feels at that moment to leave her wide open to the intimacy of her lesbian lovers. She feels good with them. She feels connected to them on a deep, primal level. âYouâre addicted to us, sweetheart,â Wynonna says softly, and Dahlia doesnât even know why she would want to argue anymore.
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