The Price She Pays

Joanie paused by the mirror-framed doorway. She brushed an errant hair from her face and gave herself a quick once over. Long black hair cascaded well past her shoulders. Her almond eyes gave her an Asian look, but her brown skin gave lie to that. She was Indian, one of the Northeast tribes. She didn't know which. She was adopted as an infant, raised by whites, and the subject never came up.

She had a compact body, albeit it a bit top heavy. She could clearly see her nipples through the thin silk of her blouse. They were feeling painful. It was getting to be time to leave. She was wearing a rubber bra, the one with holes at the tips. She had poked and prodded, pinched and pulled her nipples through the holes until Walt approved. The rubber ring made them bulge, made them so sensitive. And even though her blouse was the softest silk, after two hours the soft caress had become a rasping pain.

Joanie glanced down. Tight as her jeans were there was no camel toe. The rubber panties she wore saw to that. It was Walt's thing - rubber. She always wore rubber when she was with him. Usually it was just the underpants. But she had a couple of dresses and the bras. Only one had the holes. It was her shopping bra. Walt liked her out in public with her nipples poking through. Liked the way the rubber pants molded to her ass. He took every opportunity to pat and squeeze it.

Joanie didn't spend much time in the store. For some reason the bulb in her ass was becoming distinctly uncomfortable. That was unusual.

Joanie was a mall rat as a kid and even now her idea of a trip to the mall was an all-day affair. Walt, like most men, felt that if you want something, you go to the store, you buy it, and you leave. And so he introduced her to the inflatable bulb, thinking the discomfort would curb her outings.

It didn't. Not really.

The thing looked like a light bulb. Inflated it was more than twice the size of your basic bulb. The stem, about as thick as a light bulb's, protruded from Joanie's ass about an inch. She could feel it pressed between her cheeks.

The thing that did bother her was the irrational idea that they, the mall people, knew it was inside her. Whenever someone glanced her way, Joanie read knowledge of her secret in their eyes. She was sure she was walking in an odd way and kept her attention on smoothing her gait. The fact that she was wearing Walt's favorite "fuck me" pumps didn't help, thrusting her ass out as they did.

But the bulb itself, while uncomfortable, was tolerable. It felt about the way you'd expect it to feel; like the overwhelming urge to take the world's biggest dump. Of course, when Walt deflated the thing and removed it, there was the other, more pleasant, familiar feeling of relief.

The whole anal thing didn't bother her. In fact her first sex was with her first crush when she was a teen. The internet of ten years ago wasn't the internet of today and she and her girlfriends traded a lot of misinformation about sex. They decided fellatio was gross, but that anal sex was okay. And so when the time came, Joanie offered Kevin her ass. A couple of years later she'd tried the oral thing, found she liked it, didn't mind the taste, always swallowed, spitting never occurred to her. Spit? Where? It gave her a rep, not so much as a tramp, but she was popular enough. Gross, she learned, was eating pussy. She'd had a brief girl-girl thing in college and pussy, no matter how clean, was yucky. Her girlfriend probably wondered why foreplay always started in the shower. It still didn't taste great, but it was better than day-old pussy, fer sure.

But whenever anyone fiddled with her ass, she thought of Kevin. Although Walt wasn't much into it except for the bulb.

Once, when he was away, she pushed the thing into her ass and inflated it, kept it in all day, wore it to work even. It was distinctly uncomfortable sitting on the stem. Luckily Joanie tended bar and didn't have much chance to sit.

It was about the time he introduced her to the bulb that he gave her the special bra, the one with the little holes in the tips. He insisted she wear it shopping. He never made the connection that it was sore nips that drove her home - not the bulb.

He was at the bar in the sports club across the street throwing darts. As she walked past she gestured discreetly at her blouse and he nodded. Grateful, Joanie slipped into the bathroom and tugged off the bra. Sometimes he didn't nod, sometimes she had to wear the thing all day and then grit her teeth when he played with her tits in bed. Free of the bra, her tits felt better. The blouse rubbed more on the skin than the nipples. Given her rack she should be wearing a bra, but, when not wearing one the rubber creations, Walt preferred her braless. The effect did not go unnoticed by the other bar patrons.

Joanie ordered a glass of wine. There was a small table by the dart board with a glass of brown liquid. Probably Walt's rum. She slid onto a stool, the bulb's presence making itself felt. She ooched around a bit to get comfortable.

Watching him throw, Joanie felt a wave of gratitude. Walt was good to her. Denied her nothing. Demanded little of her. Gave her money. Sent her shopping. If wearing rubber underwear and having a bulb stuck up her ass now and then was what it took to be a kept woman, well, it was small enough price to pay.

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17.10.12