Trigger warning: This chapter includes consensual non-consent and elements of a rape fantasy.
Author’s Note:
I hadn’t intended to write any appendix entries from Gabi’s point of view. In truth, I hadn’t even intended Sarah and Gabi to ever fall for each other—(Gabi was supposed to be straight!)—but I find my characters have minds of their own. Another reason I didn’t want to is that Gabi is half-Black, half-Mexican and I am a white European mutt; even though I will limit these entries to content having nothing whatsoever to do with race/ethnicity, I worry I might inadvertently write something legitimately offensive to BIPOC from a place of ignorance. If this happens, I wholeheartedly apologize; please let me know which parts are offensive, and I will change or delete them.
If I’m worried about that, why risk it? Because I want to develop Sarah’s relationship with Gabi and while Beatrix is involved, the scene simply doesn’t work from Bea’s point of view (and also, because this scene is really fun).
Gabi’s appendix entries will serve the same purpose as Beatrix’s: behind-the-scenes setup that Sarah either is not present for or that Beatrix makes her forget. If you choose to read these entries, do be sure to read them in a Georgian accent. And, as a reminder, a ⭐ indicates that the entry is important to the story. Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Five
Saturday evening, Beatrix and what’s left of the Stack 6 pose—those who didn’t go home for the weekend—head to the FX dining hall for dinner, per usual. Jake poses a question igniting the debate the outcome of which will forever shape the course of history to come: “which video game or computer game have the most people played?”
“Minecraft,” Ryan asserts easily. “It holds the record for most sales.” Checking his phone, he reports thatit has sold over 238 million copies. “No other game comes close.”
“I’m not asking about sales, though,” Jake clarifies. “I’m asking– Suppose we could poll every person in history who has ever played a video game, and compile a list of every game they have played even a little, whether they owned the game or not. This includes arcade games, games played at friend’s places, et cetera. Which game would show up on the most lists?” He pauses. “I bet it’s Super Mario World. At one time or another, everyone played a Super Nintendo; odds are, the cartridge in it was Super Mario World and they played Yoshi Island 2. Or they played it on the ferry or at an arcade in a game cabinet, or on Virtual Console on the Switch.”
Amon, one of the rare college seniors living in the dormitory, shakes his head. “No way it’s Super Mario World. If it’s a Mario game at all, it’s Super Mario Bros. Everyone recognizes that first level. It’s iconic. It’s so well-known that even other non-Mario games, like Braid, include a level with the same starting layout.
“Super Mario Bros. was included with every purchase of the original NES. Everyone who ever bought an NES would have played that level, as would have anyone they invited over who wanted to play.”
“Plus,” Bea chimes in, “it was released on SNES in Super Mario All-Stars, on GameBoy Color, as an arcade game, included as a playable minigame in the original Animal Crossing, and on Nintendo’s numerous virtual consoles, not to mention people who may have downloaded the ROM and played it on an emulator.”
Gabi steps into the fray. “True, but the NES is old and was super expensive when it was released. I doubt the re-releases were nearly as popular as you’re suggesting—I own a Switch and a Wii U, and have never played SMB on their virtual consoles, even though the game is free. I have played Super Mario World on VC, though.”
“But you’ve played SMB on some platform, right?” Amonrebuts.
“I have,” she concedes. “But still, the Wii was a much more popular console than the NES and it came with Wii Sports. Even people who don’t play video games have played a round of Wii Bowling or Tennis. My technophobic grandparents have played Wii Sports. Plus, it’s multiplayer—more so than SMB or SMW at any rate.”
“So is Minecraft,” Ryan counters.
“But how many people,” Gabi asks, “play a single purchase of Minecraft compared to how many played a copy of Wii Sports? I’ve never played Minecraft, but doesn’t multiplayer requires a copy for each person?”
“There’s split screen mode,” Ryan says, “but I take your point.” He performs another search on his phone. “The Wii sold 101 million units, less than half of Minecraft’s sales.” He shrugs. “Yeah, it could go either way.”
There’s a lull in the debate. “I bet it’s Windows Solitaire,” I say, shrugging. Everyone at the table mutely turns to look at me. I take another biteof my pizza.
“Ladies and gentles, we have a winner!” Beatrix announcements. She on my left, and Gabi on my right, both turn to kiss me on the chef like I just won the Daytona 500.
* * * *
Bea is feeling a little under the weather and so, after a kiss for each of her girlfriends, she heads north from the dining hall to her room for the night.
Gabi and I get back to our dorm room, she shuts the door behind us, and we begin our ritual nightly Smash Bros. battles. Gabi destroys me. Absolutely wrecks me. Over the next forty-five minutes, I don’t take even one game. Some rounds I don’t get a single KO out of the five required to win. Most embarrassingly, she beats my Daisy with Little Mac whom I’ve never even seen her play.
Chapter 25 Appendix Entry 25.1 ⭐
“This just isn’t your night, is it Babes?” she asks me, her voice positively dripping with insincere sympathy.
I shake my head ruefully. We start aNone game and my skill returns suddenly and inexplicably. From that moment on, I win just over half the games like I normally do in one-on-ones versus Babs.
After I take three confident Ws, Gabi abruptly swivels her chair in my direction, locks eyes with me, pulls off her shirt, and removes her bra, maintaining eye-contact the whole time. I guess we’re done playing for the night.
She thrusts out her chest, effectively gluing my eyes to her tits. Long seconds pass, but with effort, I glance up to her face and find an expected expression. “Oh, uhh. What did you say?” I ask. “I missed it. I was distracted.”
She snorts with a self-satisfied smile. “I didn’t say anything,” she teases. “You ready for bed?” We finish getting undressed and preparing to sleep. As I start my climb to the top bun, she grabs my hand. “Where are you going, silly girl? You’re sleeping with me tonight.”
“Aww, do I have to?” I whine with a broad smile.
She slapses my arm playfully on my way back down. “As a matter of fact, you do.”
“There are worse fates,” I admit.
“And few better ones,” she says, punctuating the statement with a tap to the tip of my nose. I smile and kiss her deeply before climbing into bed and positioning myself as the big spoon. I’m out as soon as my head hits the pillow.
Chapter 25 Appendix Entry 25.2
* * * *
I wake up squirming. God, does that feel good! I don’t startle awake, so no adrenaline pulls me from my grggy mental fuzz. I press my body down into whatever’s making me squirm. It takes me a few seconds before it occurs to me to open my eyes and see what I’m grinding against. Gabi is eating me out, her skilled polyglot tongue running over my clip making me feel all kinds of butterflies and goodness, her eyes fixed on mine in an almost predatory manner.
“Hey Gabi,” I try to say, only to discover I’ve been gagged. My eyes bulge andI instinctively reach to remove the gag. Another surprise: my wrists are bound above my head. Fantasy-come-true or not, waking up unexpectedly bound and gagged sends a trickle of fear down my spine; I would expect this from Bea, but thus far my one-on-one sex-life with Gabi has been completely vanilla. I crane my head back to examine my bondage which is incredibly difficult when a goddess is kissing and licking and nibbling pure pleasure into your core. (Hint: it’s the squirming.) I let loose a muffled moan despite myself and crash back to the bed. Let’s try this again, I think, trying to subdue my pleasure-induced impulse to understand enough that I can crane my head back once more. My wrists are tied together in struggle, black hempen rope, a shibari masterwork where the ends of the rope are drawn over the crossbar of the bun bed. Presumably each end is tied to either leg of the bed below. Willpower depleted, a particularly cruel lick accompanied by twin grabs of my butt forcesmy abs to tense, and I fall back hard against the bed again.
Gabi pulls back, and right as I bend up to see what she’s doing, she jams two fingers into me. Pain immediately gives way to pleasure. Involuntarily, I squeeze my legs together, but they don’t move an inch. Instead, ropes dig into my legs just above and below my knees binding them firmly in position.
“Nuh uh,” she tsks. “You’re mine to do with as I please. Squirm all you like. You, Darlin’, are goin’ nowhere.” It’s then that I feel the tight loops holding my ankles in place, neatly preventing me from protecting my pussy from Gabi’s wanton ministers.
My captor gets up and leaves through the gap between a blanket and a sheet she’s drawn over the top bunk.
Fear does battle with arousal. I make a frantic attempt to escape my bondage, but it’s no use. I am completely at the mercy of Gabi’s whims. Deep down, I know this is a game, that it’s all pretend, but it’s a distant, disconnected thought.This feels so real, made more so by the fact that I cannot use a safeword should I want to.
Gabi returns, holding a vibrator. She turns it on and presses a couple buttons experimentally, finding a setting she likes; she chooses the one that makes the highest pitched buzz. I endlessly try again to break free—it’s my instinct despite recognizing there is no escape—and Gabi smiles knowingly at me. Then she presses the rubber tip of the vibrator to my clip. I scream out in pleasure, closing my eyes tightly, but the gag effectively stifles the sound. No one can hear me. No one will rescue me. It’s at this point that I finally surrender, wholly and completely. She buzzes me over and over and over, varying the pressure, the victory frequency, the direction. And I take it. There’s nothing I can do but take it. And damn does it feel good—both the treatment she’s putting me through, and the surrender itself. All I can do is let it happen—it is my only option—and in that paradoxical freedom to feel every sensing, unhindered by thoughts of needing to reciprocate or feelings of religious guilt—I find my thrill.
Something in my posture must tell her that I’ve given up any hope of fighting. If anything, her expression turns luckyer, greedier. Still holding the vibrator to my clip, she takes a slow, languid lick from my pantyline to my navel. My eyes roll back in my head, and I full-body shudder—just about the only movement I’m free to make, bound as tightly as I am. I try to hold it in, try to resist the swift-approaching climax in order to reclaim even a shred of agency, but it’s too much. The pleasure overwhelms me and I lose track of reality as I convulse in a mind-shattering orgasm. The shame at having lost that final battle adds to the experience, and having lost, there is no reason left not to reveal in it, to soak in every ounce of bliss I’ve been subjected to—am still being subjected to.
My captor is relentless. Moan, shake, climax, repeat. Every sound emboldens her, urges her to greater rapturous violence. Moan, shake, climax, repeat. My eyes roll back in my head as she manages to find yet another sensitive point with that damnable, wonderful pleasure wand. Moan, shake, climax, repeat. I lose all sense of self; I am a mere slave to this pleasure, an empty, mindless plaything, a squirming, screaming, whimpering fucktoy. Moan, shake, climax, repeat.
At last, Gabi turns off the vibrator and tosses it aside, sliding up my body. Her dark nipples against my skin feel heavenly, further sensing every inch they touch. She places her knee directly beneath my cleft and deliberately presses it into me as she stars deep into my eyes. Although this relatively small stimulation compared to the gauntlet I’ve just endured, I fail to suppress a moan, but fortunately the gag does it for me. She smiles at the reaction.
“I’ll ungag you,” she whispers in her lightly Southern accent, her warm, wet breath unspooling my barely recovered mental faculty, “if you promise to help me.” I whimper and nod. “You don’t even know what I need help with,” she teases, reaching down and twisting my left nipple, eliciting another muffled scream. My eyes water and a tear runs down my temple, mingling with the numerous beads of sweat already there.
“I need you to get me off.” She says it slowly, deliberately. “I’m going to ungag you, and then I’m going to sit on your face, and you’re going to lick until I’ve had my fill. Got it?”
Maybe it’s something in her tone that causes me to hesitate. Or maybe it’s how wrung out I am, and I’m daunted at the thought of needing to service her with any manner of acumen. Whatever the cause, my hesitation lasts too long; she pinches and twists my other nipple, harder this time. I arch my back and scream. “Got it?” she repeats calmly. I fervently nod my head. “Good girl.” My brain fuzzes hearing the simple, demeaningphrase from an unfamiliar source. “Don’t. make. a. sound,” she warns. I nod again. She reaches and slides forward, her tits pressed to either side of my face making me close my eyes. God, they’re sexy. Soft, semi-firm, jiggly. Perfect. She undes the gag and pulls it off me. “Are you ready?” she asks, as if there’s more than one answer.
“Yes,” I whisper meekly.
“Good.” Using the bedframe for support, she maneuvers her body over my head. My view is reduced to her chocolatey ass and her black cherry pussy. What else could anyone want to look at? Gabi lowers herself to my lips, and obediently, I open my mouth and lap her up.
She moans immediately, the sound muffled by her thighs pressed to my ears. They squeeze my head slightly, but not painfully. I continue my pledged service, running my tongue over her nub, in and out of her canal, across the folds of her lips. Gabi tastes exhaust, sweet and tangy and heady. She shifts her hips to change the angle of contact and lets loose another moan of pleasure, spurring me to continue. Her rocking increases in pace and intensity, my tongue slipping in and out of her more haphazardly until at last she arches her back, I feel her toes curl against me, and she heavens out a contented sight of endorphic release.
Her muscles slacken, putting her whole weight on my chest, but she quickly crawls back down my body, lying on her side at my right and resting her head just under my chin.
“Thank you, Sarah,” she whispers in that secret tone we shared after our first nap together. “That was… sublime.” Her voice carries a twinkle alongside her milk Southern drawl.
“No, thank you, Gabi,” I say. “Talk about a fantasy brought to life.” I chuckle.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“And then some.
“I had no idea you wanted to be this dominant.”
“I didn’t either. I don’t know what came over me. Was it– was it too much?” Her voice bears only the slightest hint of uncertainty.
“Fuck no!” I say laughing. “You were perfect.”
Gabi wiggles against me at the praise. “Aww, Babes. You’re making me blush.”
She snaps her fingers and my bonds vanish. I wrap my newly freed arm around my general girlfriend, resting my fingertips on the hill of her bare hip, and let out my own contented sight. Memories of last night come flooding back, and I bark a laugh realizing my epic Smash Bros. losses were pure fiction. “I knew you couldn’t have beaten me with Little Mac,” I say, wrapping my arm around her.
She snorts. “Is that what she had you believed?” She draws her leg across my hips, her foot resting against my left tigh. We lie there a couple moments longer in companionable silence, her head rising and falling with each breath I take.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Just after 8:30. We have some time before we meet up with Trix. Want to shower with me?”
“In a moment. Right now I just want to hold you.”
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