The Widow's Club Ch. 06

[This chapter follows on closely from the previous chapters of "The Widow's Club". for a more satisfying read, it would be best to read chapters 1-5 before proceeding.

[This story has many aspects and could have also been listed under the Mature and BDSM categories, among others. It has some references to bodily functions, so if that bothers you, I suggest you read no further. All characters in this story are well over 18 years old.]

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That afternoon, Dotty helped Millie 'accident-proof' her queen-sized bed with a plastic mattress cover and an absorbent pad. Before Mildred had moved in, the cottage in Dotty's backyard had served as an ancillary pleasure palace for Dotty's secret love circle, though Dotty didn't go into that particular detail. If walls could speak, a cozy little pajama party would have been the mildest of the events held there.

The two friends attended to their own dinners and, as planned, Dotty knocked at the cottage door at 8 o'clock, clad in light cotton jammies and with a bottle of very high-end Cognac and two mini-snifters in hand. Millie greeted her in her own jammies and hugged her dear friend, enjoying the sensation of their sizable bosoms mashing together. Mildred had turned off all electric lights and staged an intimate scene with a few scented candles arrayed around the room.

She had not participated in a bonafide pajama party since her late-teen years and she was elated with the prospect. Those youthful parties had often featured whispered confidences and daring masturbatory sessions when all the lights were out and the parental units were long asleep. Dotty may not have known it, but proposing a pajama party to Millie was a surefire way to put her at ease, yet arouse her buried desires.

Dotty poured them both a generous portion of Cognac and they offered a gentle toast to each other's fantasies as they first took a sip. The effect was immediately relaxing and heartwarming.

Side by side on the bed, with pillows perched behind them, they gave each other a little sideways glance before Dotty broke their silence.

"My dear, dear Millie. I think I know how you may feel. We are all the captives of our fantasies, those scenarios that we can't help picturing, those fantasies that stoke our fires and drive us mad. It probably seems excruciating, but it is only by facing them straight on and embracing them, despite our shame and guilt and misgivings, that we can become free.

"Are you willing to give it a try?"

"I'll give it a try, Dotty," Mildred murmured. "But you said you'd go first. I want to hear your fantasies."

"And so you shall. But first I should tell you a little about my family. My parents were very strict and had an endless number of little rules that my sister and I had to follow precisely or we'd be punished. My sister Suzanne was just a couple years younger than I and she was a mischievous little devil, forever getting us in trouble. But things didn't really ramp up until Suzanne turned 18 and really started getting out of hand.

"It seemed like every day we'd do something wrong and every night my Mum and Papa would take turns spanking us or paddling us, or using the belt -- that was the worst! And all the time, while we were crying and screaming, they were telling us how they loved us and that this was for our own good. This continued until we found a way to escape and live our own lives.

"Oh, Dotty, that sounds horrible! I'm so sorry! You poor thing."

"Well, don't feel too sorry, my dear, because over time we came to relish it. Suzanne would hold me firmly in place as I was bent over with my bum exposed and smile gleefully as I took my lickin'. And I would do the same for her. We would look into each other's eyes and share our secret cums as our hands were clasped. I don't know if our parents ever caught on that they had turned us into erotomaniacs, but we certainly knew it."

Dotty paused while she and Millie took little sips of Cognac in the flickering candlelight, then she continued.

"As you can imagine, this warped me for life. I came to associate pleasure with pain, punishment with love, and agony -- sweet agony -- with delight. Somehow, I was lucky enough to meet a man who loved me for my kinks and who had many of his own. We loved to dress up in different costumes and act out our favorite fantasies. Henry would be a strict father and I would be his naughty daughter. Or he would be my bad boy and I would be his stern mother. We took turns being each other's slave, where we were forced to do the bidding of our master or mistress. And for special occasions, Henry loved for me to dress him up in my lacy underthings, and let him wear a frilly dress and heels. We had a nice array of wigs and accessories.

"Oh, Millie, it was so fun! It was our own little world. No one else ever knew. Henry was quite the handyman and built us several props. He had even been an Eagle Scout and still knew all the knots he had learned there.

"It was like we had been born for each other. We were very happy. But then, Henry's health began to fail and he was diagnosed with cancer. Before we really had time to fully prepare ourselves, he was gone and I was devastated. Henry had made a good living and had invested well. He made sure that when he was gone that I wouldn't have to worry about keeping our home or having food on the table. But I was at loose ends and didn't really know what to do with myself.

"But I figured that in a city of this size, there must be others who shared the same fantasies as Henry and I. So, yes, I scanned the personal ads in the daily paper, and I paid close attention to the little notes tacked up on supermarket bulletin boards, looking for coded messages. I sought out lectures at the local Unitarian Church and Ethical Culture Club that seemed at all aimed at urban sophisticates. I even rented a private mail box and sent away for risque booklets and exotic little magazines that were advertised in little ads in the back pages of tell-all magazines with names like Vice Squad or Confidential.

"And bit by bit, clue by clue, I began to tease out how people with our special tastes were able to find each other. There was one very nondescript cocktail lounge just down the street from our local Art Theatre, where all sorts of discrete deviants rubbed elbows and exchanged phone numbers. When I would go there, I had to entirely replace my usual couture and wear one of Henry's wigs so that I wasn't recognized. As I recall, that was where I met someone who referred me to Malcolm and soon I was part of a small network of connoisseurs and outcasts who indeed shared some of my fantasies and introduced me to others."

Dotty sighed nostalgically.

"And here we are today, and I think I've just about talked myself out for now, which does take some doing!"

More warming little sips of Cognac were had, and now it was Millie's turn.

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