Heather

Heather was in an irritable mood. She was taking a shower not only to get clean but also hopefully to shake her up with scalding hot water and wash away her bad feelings. Unfortunately, she had more than one reason for feeling cranky this morning.

She thought as she grazed her hands over her breasts, There's a lot of things bugging me right now, but let's face it, there's only one serious problem: my goddamned Inner Bitch is too horny and needy. Again!

Yesterday afternoon, Simone had given her an incredible anal reaming (or more properly, "Mister Simone" had done so, as that's what she'd been instructed to call her best friend's huge new strap-on). It went on for hours and hours. By the time Simone left for dinner, Heather felt like she'd be unable to stand or sit for a week. But here it was, only the morning after, and she was already craving more.

Yesterday's experiences had also confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt something that Alan had accused Heather of being when he and Simone had started her on her Bitch Trainers: Heather was a size queen.

Until yesterday, she'd had no idea how big the toys Simone had been stuffing her butt with were. All she knew about them for sure was that they felt "good" when they were in her. Okay, really good actually, she had to admit. But she just couldn't help feeling like she wasn't being filled up to the max somehow, and that any wasted "capacity" for her meant that she was being (in a manner of speaking) shortchanged somehow on the deal. She could tell that since the first day, her Bitch Trainers had been getting bigger, but she'd been prevented from looking at or touching them in any way, so she had no objective way of measuring and quantifying the sizes being used.

That changed when she'd been sent home from school yesterday morning.

Even though she knew she wasn't allowed to touch, let alone see, her Bitch Trainers, she had to see, with her own eyes, touch with her own hands, and even measure with her own tape measure, exactly what kind of toys had been stuffed into the hole between her endlessly tingling nether cheeks for the last few days.

But when she'd actually done the deed and pulled out the latest Bitch Trainer dildo Simone had put in her, she wasn't ready for the shock of actually seeing it. For minute after long minute, she could only stare at the huge monster, dumbstruck by the thought that anything so large could have fit inside her rear end. If she hadn't pulled it out of her ass with her own two hands, she never would have believed it could have gone in.

After the shock wore off, she went and got her tape measure. She discovered the Bitch Trainer she'd extracted was eleven inches long and about six inches around. She compared that to penis sizes. She knew that ten-inch penises were much less than one in a thousand. A nine-incher was the biggest she'd ever personally experienced (Ted "The Big Ten Inch" Pulaski really only had a nine inch penis). That had seemed gigantic at the time. Eleven, on the other hand, was practically off the scale, something one only found in porn.

As far as Heather was concerned, bigger meant better. More powerful. More dominant. More commanding. More exclusive.

Unfortunately for Heather, Simone knew her too well. She'd gone straight to Heather's underwear drawer, found where Heather had stashed her Bitch Trainer, and left with it. Worse, Simone knew Heather's dildo collection intimately and had managed to find and take away every single one as well. She said it was part of Heather's punishment to "go without" for a little while.

So, when Heather woke up feeling intensely hot, itchy, and anally needy instead of just tired and sore like she'd expected, she had no way to scratch her itch. With it being Thanksgiving, she couldn't even count on seeing Simone later in the day. To call up anyone else for sex seemed pathetic and desperate.

She'd tried using her fingers at first, but for some reason that was just really unsatisfying for her. Even if she could find one of her own toys or some random fuck friend, it wouldn't have felt right. If she could have gone out and bought a giant dildo, that wouldn't have been satisfying either. The problem was, none of those things would have had the stamp of approval of Alan, her Bitch Tamer, and Simone, his assistant Bitch Tamer. If it wasn't a part of her bitch training program, then it didn't have that special aura for her. She knew without even trying that the experience would be lackluster and unsatisfying, if not downright frustrating, should she use anything in her ass other than the dildos officially sanctioned as her Bitch Trainers.

Worse, in some weird way, it would have felt like cheating. Cheating had never bothered her before (in fact, she'd reveled in the wrongness of it), but now it did. Even putting her finger in her own ass felt wrong somehow, but not wrong in a delightfully sinful way, just wrong in an unpleasant way. This was pissing her off.

Then there was the fact that she wouldn't be getting her daily enema from Simone today because it was a holiday. Simone had warned her that daily enemas weren't healthy over the long term, so taking some days off was a good thing to do. But Heather didn't care about the long term.

It wasn't that she actually liked the enemas - in fact, they didn't turn her on at all. It was what they meant, what they got her ready for, that got her excited. Getting an enema was like putting a little sign over her ass: "Heather's butt, open and ready for a serious Alan plowing."

Thinking about those possibilities always got her going, that and the fact that Simone would usually finger lube her ass afterwards. Simone had started getting really good at fingering her asshole lately, making quite an enjoyable production of it with her teasing and pleasing ways.

Just before showering, Heather had given herself an enema, but found that without Simone there to talk to and play with, it was just another chore. Instead of getting her warmed up and ready for more, she felt frustrated and denied.

So that's how she'd ended up taking an unusually long and hot shower. The cascading water didn't really take the edge off her anal urges, or the insistent tingling she felt down there between her cheeks, but it did at least distract her for a while and allow her to feel otherwise refreshed.

However, she did have one thing that got her at least somewhat excited, and that was her recurring Alan fantasies. As she showered, she pointed the shower hose to her pussy as she tailored one of her typical recent fantasies for a shower scenario.

She was taking a shower all alone in the girl's locker room after cheerleader practice when Alan came into the shower area, naked. "Alan, what are you doing here?"

"Sorry Heather, but I just had to see you right away."

"What is it? It had better be important. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble."

He walked right up to her and looked her in her eyes, paying no mind to their nakedness. "It's just that I've been thinking, and I realized you're the one I really love."

"No, you're just saying that because Amy found some other guy." (In Heather's fantasies, she always found ways to end Alan's other relationships so she wouldn't have any competition.)

"No. Really, it's true! The thing is, at first I bought into the stereotype of you being a bitch, but as I got to know you better I realized you're not really a bitch at all. You're a great and powerful woman destined to do great things, but you're surrounded by fools and incompetents who hold you down. Of course they say nasty things about you, because they're jealous and they don't understand your genius! But I do." In the daydream, he stepped forward and tentatively held her by the shoulders, while in reality she aimed the shower nozzle up over her chest.

"Finally, at least one person has a clue. But you've been treating me like shit lately, fucking me however you want, like I was your personal sex toy. Why should I believe you now?"

"Oh please let me make it up to you, Heather, my love. If anything, you own MY body, I love you so much. I'll do whatever you want!"

"Will you? Prove it. Get down on your knees and make me cum. Right now."

"Yes, ma'am! There's nothing I'd love better than to eat you out all day!" In the dream, he dropped to his knees and started licking her pussy. Meanwhile in reality, she blasted the nozzle onto her clit from less than an inch away while she fingered her pussy lips.

"Aaah. That feels good. But you've got a lot of making up to do. And I like the 'ma'am.' I want you to call me that from now on."

"With pleasure, ma'am!"

The rest of the fantasy involved a great deal more pussy licking and a lot less talking. The fantasy had a vaginal focus instead of an anal focus mostly for practical reasons: the shower nozzle felt pretty good on her vulva at close range, but it didn't stimulate her anus all that much.

However, touching herself just couldn't compare to the touch of someone else, no matter how pleasant the fantasy was for her. Her heart wasn't really in it due to her existing bad mood, and she couldn't quite get herself off.

As a result, she finished the shower even more sexually frustrated than when she got in it.

Shutting off the water, she stood in the shower, letting the water droplets slide downwards along her skin. Grragh! It's no use. I'm just wasting my time. I might as well try to make something out of this stupid day. Using her hands, she sluiced the water off her body and angrily thrust aside the shower curtain. Yanking the towel out of the rack, she began to roughly dry herself off.

Stupid fucking Simone, leaving me all alone, completely high and dry. Eh, I really shouldn't get mad at her, but dammit, it's not fair! The more my two Bitch Tamers play with my ass, the needier it gets! Stupid holiday, that's the problem. Like I really care about Thanks-fucking-giving. Having to sit through hours and hours of boring family stuff, hours and hours of anally unfulfilling tedium - ugh! If only I could steal away and play with Simone at least a little bit, but she says she's got all kinds of family obligations all day long. Fuck! What am I going to do?

Still rubbing the last of the wetness out of her hair and muttering to herself about the unfairness of being slighted by her "so-called best friend," she walked out of her adjoining bathroom and into her bedroom.