Chapters A Holsom Women's Social Chapter 9
Please note, this chapter features elements of rape and treats the psychological burden with realism.
The carpet smelled freshly laundered, as if Julia had it cleaned specifically for the Social. Cherry wasn’t sure anyone was likely to appreciate that, other than herself. Or maybe Julia expected more than one of her guests to have their noses pressed into the soft fabric while their husbands railed them from behind.
Cherry didn’t know where Francis had come from all of a sudden, or what had put him in such an amorous mood. After spending all day worrying over his lack of interest in her, she wasn’t going to complain when he turned up out of the blue to sweep her off her feet. Or, as the case had been, shove her down onto her knees.
He was certainly being more aggressive than she was used to, but she was glad to be desired so strongly, even if it hurt. She yelped into the carpet as he slapped her ass again. Both cheeks were already inflamed from more spanks than she could have possibly earned for her attempt at an illicit nibble from the snack table. At first she had thought he might be punishing her for that, but the slaps actually seemed to be born from an abundance of enthusiasm. If anything, they were intended to reward her; a swat on the butt usually followed whenever she performed a particularly successful pull along the length of his cock with the soft, constricting walls of her vaginal canal. At least the spanks were often accompanied with encouraging praise, like an eruption of “Good girl!” or a long, moaning “Fuuuuuck…”
Francis had never been so vocal in bed before, but then they weren’t really in bed at all. Perhaps a little extra flair was in order for such an unorthodox rendezvous. Still, Cherry felt slightly guilty over the praise. Her intimate modifications were doing most of the work, after all. She could feel her muscles spasming rhythmically down there, but they did so of their own accord, along patterns Francis himself had selected. There was a lot more pulsating vibration happening even deeper inside her, but Francis’ plunges seemed shallower than usual and he wasn’t quite reaching the really special bits. Cherry knew that she should help him by grinding herself against his body, pushing him a little deeper inside to enjoy what waited there, but for some reason she couldn’t summon the effort. A passive approach, aside from her mods, seemed much more appealing to her at that moment. And besides, Francis was enjoying himself to no end as it was.
“God damn, Grady, you should feel what I am feeling right now!” Francis called to his friend, who was somewhere nearby to where he and Cherry knelt together on the floor. Cherry had never met this ‘Grady’ before, and couldn’t exactly say that she’d met him even now, having only heard his voice, but if Francis was comfortable with having him in the room while they were being intimate then she had to be, too.
“So you keep saying!” Grady called back. His speech followed the same staccato pattern as Francis’, punctuated by each thrust. Cherry had gleaned enough from their conversation to know that Grady was similarly engaged with a girl of his own. She wondered if it might be someone she’d met earlier during the Social. “You’re going to make mine jealous, and she’s doing her best!”
“That old bitch can’t possibly compare to this. Francis must be fuckin’ loaded. You can’t get a girl like this from the catalogs. I can’t imagine what she must’ve cost!” Referring to himself by name was another odd quirk Francis had recently adopted. Cherry realized she wasn’t exactly sure how recently. Her recollection of the day’s events seemed to be rather jumbled. She had been at the Social, making friends with a whole bunch of lovely girls, and then suddenly she was on the floor, and Francis was fucking her, with all those lovely girls now standing silently, some shifting slightly from toe to toe in impatience. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember what had directly preceded Francis’ arrival, but he must have called in an Intermission just to use her right here in the middle of the day. Cherry had never heard of a husband doing such a thing! How romantic!
And yet that gap in her chain of events worried Cherry in a way she couldn’t shake. Frowning in consternation, she turned her head to the side, straining to peer behind her. Francis’ familiar, knobby legs led up to his skinny torso as he pumped vigorously. She couldn’t quite make out his face from her position, but she did her best to smile up at him. Everything was just as it should be. He spanked her, hard, and her smile briefly faltered before she could force it back into place.
Force it? Why was it so difficult to get her face to do what she wanted? It almost felt as if she didn’t want to smile, but that couldn’t be right. She turned her disobedient face back down into the carpet with a huff, and was surprised to find that it was a little damp, the near-seafoam green finding its way to true, deep teal under her cheek. Had she been drooling? Her lubrication mods sometimes got a little overzealous when Francis was involved. Strangely, though, her mouth felt dry. In fact, she had barely oozed onto her thighs at all, either. That hole was always slippery, but with Francis’ cock inside her she should have been gushing with the clear, gooey fluid. Like her mouth, she didn’t seem to be any wetter down there than she might have been without the mods altogether.
So why was the carpet damp? A stinging in her eyes that had somehow gone unrecognized gave her the answer. She was crying. She had been for a while, judging by the dark smudges on the carpet that she now realized were mascara stains. The setting spray on her face had been completely wiped away by the tear-damp carpet. Something was wrong. Everything was just as it should be. Something was very, very wrong.
“I’m telling you man it’s like she’s got a fucking piston in there.” Francis shouted, “I don’t even need to do anything! Watch this.” He paused in his thrusting, but Cherry could feel herself gripping him, pumping and sliding along his length with stroke after tight, twisting stroke. “Her cunt is literally jerking me off right now.” Francis announced smugly, delivering another painful, perfunctory swat to her butt that made Cherry emit a muffled squeak into the damp carpet. “And it feels amazing!”
It…didn’t feel amazing, actually. Her husband’s cock was supposed to be a girl’s ultimate source of fulfillment. Cherry just felt…filled. And also worryingly empty, in a way she couldn’t quite identify. Certainly not what she’d come to expect from Francis’ attentions, increasingly infrequent as they might be.
“That’s enough with the spanking, man.” Grady did not sound as amused with Cherry’s performance as Francis evidently was. “We don’t want her going home bruised.”
Maybe she was just being shy. She wasn’t used to having an audience like this, especially not someone she didn’t even know. The last time she’d been intimate with Francis in front of someone else had been when she took him into her mouth during their wedding ceremony, and the only other person in the room then had been her father, looking on with pride. And the accountant, finishing the paperwork on a lap desk in the corner, apparently uninterested in the scene across the room.
Cherry’s signature had been recorded weeks in advance of the ceremony, a kiss on the dotted line, before the doctors began preparing her for the wedding. Her consent was unnecessary at any stage of the process, though it held symbolic value. The final signature was supposed to acknowledge that the bride had been informed of the modifications her groom had selected, but in practice it often meant the exact opposite. It was a test of trust to kiss the final page without so much as a peek at the rest, and she had been eager to demonstrate her faith. Nevermind the fact that Francis had declined to tell her afterwards what to expect. It was his right to leave her with surprises to discover.
One such surprise had been the new way she took her meals. Another had been the extent of the modifications to her vagina. Her understanding of money was very vague, it being something that men constantly spoke of but never explained to her. Nonetheless, she knew that what the doctors had done to her down there was very expensive. She shouldn’t be malfunctioning like this. This was supposed to feel good. Instead, she was crying for no reason and fighting against a rising sense of panic that threatened to overwhelm her at any second. Maybe it would help if she saw Grady, and could put a face to the voice of the man watching her be fucked.
She turned her head the other way, towards where Grady’s voice came from. The scene was strangely familiar, almost as if she had looked before. Yes, she suddenly seemed to recall seeing this already, more than once. He was still right there, clearly occupied with whoever that woman was, and not paying Cherry as much attention as she’d feared. The woman had that funny thing puffing out her cheeks. It was all bubbly, but apparently solid enough to force her jaw wide. Little bells hanging from her nipples rang out as they were jostled around, solving the mystery of where that particular noise had been coming from. She stared back at Cherry, her eyes bleary and unfocused. Cherry wondered why she was crying. Maybe she didn’t like it when Francis fucked her, too. Francis was FUCKING THE OTHER WOM—
The carpet smelled freshly laundered, a pleasant scent even if it was very damp. Cherry lifted her face to stare straight ahead. Where was she? Oh yes, the Women’s Social. Someone was fucking her, and it was very important that she not think about who. Why might that be? There was only one person who could fuck her, and that was her husband. She swung her head around as far as she could, intending to smile at him like a good girl. Instead, her eyes went wide and she choked on a half-formed scream. NOT FRANCIS NOT FRANCIS NOT FRAN—
There was something wet under her face. Somewhere, bells were jingling. Cherry raised her watery eyes enough to peer out in front of her. There were some women out there, a lot of them in fact. She probably shouldn’t think about who they might be. She probably shouldn’t think about anything. All she wanted to do was lay there, and cry.
She glanced at the women again. Some were quite close to her, only a few feet away, their pleasers easier to see than who was on the other end of those tall, smooth legs. Then she noticed something new. It seemed like an important thing, but she had been too busy worrying about something else.
“Diane…” A voice said in a muffled croak, and Cherry realized it was her own. She felt as though she was far away, not in her body at all. Something terrible was happening to her body, but it couldn’t be happening to her, because she was not really there. She wanted to be somewhere else. She wanted to be with Diane.
She stretched herself towards Diane, pushing off of something solid behind her. The solid thing immediately slammed back into her, giving her an extra little boost towards her goal. She had to shuffle her knees forward, arching her back up a bit, before she could stretch out again, dragging her breasts across the carpet. The solid thing seemed happy to follow, and she got another boost as it caught up to her.
It took a long time to cover the distance that way. Or maybe it happened quickly. Cherry couldn’t seem to remember how long time usually took to pass. Eventually, though, Diane’s pleaser loomed directly in front of her, well-buckled to the smooth calf which had touched Cherry with such effortless heat just… some time ago. Diane would be able to help her somehow, Cherry was sure of it. She desperately wanted to feel warm now, to feel something.
She strained to get her cheek high enough to press against the bare skin of Diane’s foot. Almost…almost…Contact! An instant of that electric warmth flowed into her, and Cherry felt as though she might finally be safe from the terrible thing she should not think about. And then Diane recoiled from the touch, stumbling backwards away from Cherry and causing her face to plummet the few meager inches back to the carpet. The warmth shattered into a thousand tiny shards, exploding with a shockwave that shook Cherry loose from her hiding spot somewhere far away.
She hurdled towards full awareness of her body, snapping back with all the force of a leash suddenly yanked taught. A long, wailing sob erupted from deep inside as she collided with the reality of what was happening to her.
The man’s hands sprung away from where they had been clutching her hips, and he was quickly joined by the other man.
“Feldman, what the fuck did you do?!”
“Nothing! She was into it a second ago. She was bucking against me and everything! Her cunt’s still—”
“A second ago? Jesus Christ, look at her! Get your dick out!” Cherry heard a wet slurping sound as the cock pulled free of her grasp. Her performance continued automatically down below, waiting for the thrust that would return the occupant to its massage. But it did not come. Cherry collapsed onto her side, the rest of her shaking uncontrollably even as her hole finally shuddered to a stop. “Are you ok, sweetheart? Are you hurt?”
“Fr-Francis?” Her lip trembled as one of the men cupped her chin and peered at her. His eyes were a deep hazel color, just as they had been when he gazed down at her on the wedding altar. “What a wonderful…w-what a..” Cherry broke into another sob and the man let her face fall. Francis’ eyes were blue.
“See?” The other man said insistently, “The docs must’ve screwed her brain up good, but that’s not my fault! I didn’t hurt her, she liked it!”
“Ok, ok…” The hazel-eyed man was still looking down at her. Cherry shrank under his inspection, pulling her knees up to her breasts. She wished she still had arms to wrap around herself. “Shit, she’s a mess. Maid! Get over here and fix her.” A retiree that had been standing closeby, apparently watching, rushed to obey. It knelt in front of Cherry, placing its hands on the underside of the slight bumps where her shoulders had been in order to support her as she tentatively stood.
“Close your eyes, babe. I think that will help.” The hazel-eyed man said softly to Cherry when he noticed her gaze flicking back and forth between the two men, on the verge of more tears. She did as he told her, and instantly felt a little more secure. Not much, but at least she didn’t have to battle the belief that Francis had suddenly appeared, over and over. “Take her back into the powder room and get her all gussied up again. And be extra gentle, alright? I don’t need her having another fit.”
Cherry felt the maid place its arm around the curve of her hip, a thankfully light touch from arms she knew could be iron, guiding her away. The men continued talking to each other, but she had already forgotten which voice had gone with which face.
“Christ, Feldman. You’d better hope she’s too fucked up to even tell what happened. It’s your ass if we get a complaint.”
“My ass?! You said it would be fine! C’mon, Grady, she was literally asking for it!”
“She asked for it because she didn’t know any better! Next time you settle for the second round on the woman we’re actually there for. And you do the asking!”
“But it’s my turn to go first!”
“Not after this, it’s not! Now come and help me clean the other one out. We’re gonna have enough problems with the job report as it is without the docs finding ejaculate behind the seal again…”
The voices faded to grumbling, and then cut off completely as Cherry and the maid passed through a swinging door. She opened her eyes to find herself in a small powder room. There was a stray pleaser on the floor that Cherry stared at for a long moment before deciding it didn’t look familiar, after all. Odd though, to see a single pleaser, all scuffed up and left there on its own.
Her reflection in the vanity mirror was even stranger, and not just because she was even worse for wear than the discarded shoe. Mascara had run down her cheeks, then been smeared by the carpet until her face was covered in dark, sooty splotches. Her eyes were bloodshot, the tiny veins outlining her false irises through the way they disappeared along the edge of the contacts. Her hair had gone from beehive to bird’s nest, and she was missing an earring somehow. Oh, and she was completely naked. That was actually the most normal part of the image, aside from the redness and the streaks of makeup marking her breasts from when she’d dragged her body across the stained carpet. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been in public without immaculate makeup. Probably not since before her first pair of training heels.
She watched her lower lip begin to quiver, her eyes brimmed with water, and then she succumbed to fresh, shuddering sobs. The retiree suddenly wrapped an arm around her again, turning Cherry away from the mirror and into an awkward embrace. It carefully lowered them both to the floor together as the strength in her legs gave out. She buried her face against its rubbery chest, surprisingly soft despite only a faint indication of breasts visible on the exterior, and it cradled her head with its mechanical hand; rigid, yet somehow tender.
Cherry slowly brought her own breathing into rhythm with the steady rise and fall of the retiree’s chest. She could feel her tears pooling in the space where her cheek pressed against it before they slipped away down the slick surface. From deep within the soft shell, its heartbeat drummed in her ear. She could even hear a faint whirring sound as its other hand lowered to her feet. To her surprise, it unlatched the pleasers which had been hurting her all day and carefully removed them. Her feet felt naked, foreign, without her shoes, but she was glad that small pain at least was finally gone.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, and received no reply.
They sat together silently for what felt like a long time. The man had told the maid to gussy her up, so she knew eventually it would be time to face the vanity mirror again. But he had also told it to be extra gentle, and the retiree seemed to be prioritizing that part of the command. Cherry didn’t know what degree of liberty retirees had when it came to following orders, but she chose to believe that this one had decided on its own to comfort her.
Later, she didn’t remember falling asleep in its arms.
Find accompanying notes and illustrations on Slothargy’s DeviantArt and Pixiv