dirty stories, guest posts

Ariadne’s Thread, Guest Post by Jean Roberta

Content warning: this story contains humiliation, objectification, sploshing (food play), and force.

“Let me in, girlfriend.”

 The sound of Zoe’s voice assaulted Ariadne’s ears where she sat in the funk of her misery. Dirty dishes covered her tables and counters, pungent clothing littered her floor. Her curtains were closed, leaving the apartment in perpetual gloom. “Go away.”

 “Come on, baby. I know you’re not feeling good, but there is life after a breakup, you know? We’ve all gone through it. You need company.” Silence. “Ari, come on. I don’t want to stand here talking to you through the door. Do you want all your neighbors to hear this?”

A dark, swollen eye appeared at the peephole, then the thin wooden door was yanked open. Ariadne Megalopolous blocked the entrance, taking up space out of proportion to her girlish, fine-boned, high-breasted body. The smell of her sweat and her contempt for the world confronted the brisk assertiveness of her friend Zoe, who stepped back before she could stop herself.

Ariadne sneered like a damned soul, her white face framed in greasy black hair. She held onto the doorframe, slouching in a T-shirt and a pair of jeans so old and dirty that they held the shape of her ass and thighs even when she wasn’t in them. Her presence was so intense that Zoe felt it in her clit.

Ariadne filled the silence. “What are you, Zoe, human Prozac? If you think you know how I’m supposed to feel, then fuck you.”

For an instant, Zoe heard her say, “Fuck me.”  What a pleasure that would be.

“Okay, you wanta be a good Samaritan, you can come in and wash my — Jesus.” Ariadne had stepped far enough into the hallway to see Carter lurking a few feet away from Zoe.

Suzanne Carter, who preferred to be known by her last name, was wiry and wily. As an employee of Child Protection Services, she took bewildered, mistreated children away from their violent or distraught parents after warning the adults of the legal consequences of their behavior. Carter dreamed of being a secret agent for the federal government.

Carter grabbed Ariadne by the arm before she could slam the door on her two friends.Zoe tried to soothe her with words. “Ari! We’re concerned about you. We just want to —”

 “Help me get her inside,” grunted Carter.

Zoe worked for the Department of Social Services, like Carter, but in a milder role. She specialized in job-readiness counseling.

Ariadne saw through the good-cop/bad-cop act. “Fuckin’ Christ!” She made no effort to control her volume. “You two dykes are a fuckin’ joke! What is this, a scene for World’s Worst Videos?” She wasted so much energy expressing herself verbally that Carter had no trouble forcing her back into her apartment. This didn’t prevent Carter from glaring at Zoe for awkwardly trailing behind and closing the door quietly instead of helping to restrain the prisoner.

Carter’s pale, spiky hair seemed to bristle more than usual. It was naturally blonde, and Carter tried to compensate for the baby-chick color by keeping it short and artificially stiff. Zoe suspected her of using starch.

“What the hell do you want?” Ariadne was still hostile, but quieter.

Carter loosened her grip, and slid a hand up to Ariadne’s chin. “Why didn’t you answer your phone for a week, Ari? Don’t you think anyone cares what happens to you?”

Ariadne backed away. She seemed to be wondering whether anyone in the world could actually worry about her. “You didn’t have to spaz out. You knew Denny dumped me so she could be with whatsername. Everyone knows everything in this community. There’s no flippin’ mystery here, okay? That’s why the fuck I didn’t answer my phone.” 

Ariadne still gave off a dull-red glow, but Zoe could feel her exhaustion. Zoe offered traditional advice. “You can forget her, Ari. Denny didn’t deserve you. You’ll find someone better.”

Ariadne fended off a hug by pushing Zoe’s hands away. She looked like a cornered animal. “You can go to hell, both of you.”

 “Hey!” Carter objected.

Ariadne wasn’t finished. “Damn social workers get all your lines out of a book. I’m not gonna find someone better. You know that damn well.”

Something in the air chilled Zoe to the bone. It was the presence of death, lured in by the despair that lingered in the smell of stale food and body odor.

Zoe had watched the luck drain out of Ariadne’s life, one event at a time, for the past seven years. She had had to drop out of university due to lack of funds, and lack of credit. She had found a good job at an advertising agency, but a volatile male boss had first groped her and then ridiculed her ideas until she quit. Her mother had died and her father had moved his girlfriend into the house a few days after the funeral.

A series of alcoholic girlfriends had wrecked or taken all of Ariadne’s most treasured belongings, including her car, her good-luck stone and her grandmother’s earrings. She had given notice on her apartment after accepting Denny’s invitation to move in with her, then Denny had changed her mind after a one-night bar hookup with someone else.

Like her namesake in Greek mythology, Ariadne seemed to be lost in a maze with a monster at its center, and no one had given her a thread to guide her back to the open air.

“Just leave me alone,” she said. The dark eyes in her puffy face said something else.

 “We can’t do that,” Carter told her, unconsciously imitating the coolly-dangerous voice of a cop in a crime show on prime-time. “A stupid little thing like you can’t be trusted alone.” Carter seized her by both arms from behind as though she were planning to handcuff her. Ariadne’s T-shirt was pulled against her small, perky breasts and her hips bucked provokingly.

Zoe was appalled at Carter and herself.

Carter looked at her like a conspirator. She kept speaking to Ariadne. “Besides, if you can’t find anyone better than Denny, you’d be lucky if we do you a favor. Everyone knows everything in our community, honey, and we’ve heard all about you. We know what a greedy little pig you are, and you have nothing to lose.”

Ariadne looked at Zoe in disbelief. “Oh please. You’re not going to try cheering me up by fucking me.” It was more of a question than a statement.

The heat of evil joy spread through Zoe. “She said please,” she told Carter. “We both heard her.”

Ariadne seemed strangely resigned, even serene in Carter’s grip. If she hadn’t, Zoe would have gushed apologies and tried to soothe Ariadne with hugs and tea and grief counseling – anything to appease whatever gods seemed to blast everything she touched. Anything to prevent the curse from spreading like a virus.

But Ariadne seemed easy. “This place is filthy, and so are you,” Carter told her. “Should we give her a bath first?”

Zoe brushed the hair off Ariadne’s forehead. She cradled Ariadne’s head, releasing the hot smell of her scalp as she pulled a tragic young face closer to hers. Zoe could see the faint mustache above Ariadne’s full, curved lips, and a row of eyebrow hairs that were trying to grow back in after being tweezed out. Ariadne’s eyes were closed, and her black eyelashes rested on pale, clammy skin.

Zoe was aware of her own neatly-trimmed hair, her subtle makeup, her skin cream and deodorant. She felt like a cleaner, older, saner version of Ariadne.

Zoe felt moved to tears. She fought the feeling by pressing her lips to Ariadne’s. The taste was fresher than Zoe expected, like spring rain enriched with salt and iron. Zoe could taste Ariadne’s grief and rage, her confusion and self-hatred. Underneath it all, she could taste fear. Zoe was surprised at how easy it was to taste emotions on another person’s porous, vulnerable skin.

Zoe slid her tongue between Ariadne’s lips. Ariadne didn’t exactly co-operate, but she didn’t fight the invasion. Zoe could swear she tasted hope in Ariadne’s mouth, just enough to keep her alive.

“No,” said Zoe to Carter. “We can wash her later. Let’s play with her first.”

“We need to take her clothes off. They’re gross.” Zoe unbuttoned and unzipped Ariadne’s jeans while Carter kept a firm grip on her arms.

“Hey, I can see what you’re trying to do, but I’m not into it, Masters and Johnson. Sex therapy won’t work on me.” Ariadne sounded sad, not outraged. Zoe felt encouraged.

“Shut up,” said Carter. “This isn’t for you, this is for us. We get tired of taking care of other people all the time. We want someone we can use, and you were born for that, baby. You’re a piece of trash living in a garbage dump. We’ll just take what we want and then leave.” Carter reached under Ariadne’s T-shirt to pinch her naked nipples.

Zoe watched Ariadne for real signs of distress, but the captive squirmed more like a friendly puppy than like a frantic victim. Zoe helped Carter to pull Ariadne’s T-shirt over her head. The smell of her neck and armpits wafted over them, but Zoe wasn’t offended. She was reminded that all human beings have a smell if nothing is done to erase it, and that most people in Western civilization have been trained to feel unreasonably ashamed of their own.

“Ariadne, you’re a slut,” Zoe explained. “That used to mean a dirty woman, one who doesn’t keep herself clean. Literally. A lazy housekeeper. We can’t mess you up any worse than you already are.”

“She needs a spanking.” Carter looked at Zoe.

“Good plan.” Zoe had been acquainted with Ariadne all her life because their parents attended the same church, but Zoe had never wondered before whether Ariadne’s parents believed in physical punishment as a spur to sound character development. Zoe and Ariadne hadn’t been close enough as children to play hitting or touching games.

Zoe wanted to make up for lost time.

Carter efficiently pulled Ariadne’s jeans off her legs, lifting each of her feet for that purpose. Beneath the denim, Ariadne wore nothing but her own skin, lightly coated with oil and sweat. “Bend over and touch your toes,” said Carter like a police matron.

The sight of Ariadne’s deep rose-colored cunt-lips, surrounded by black fur and the delicate skin of her thighs, was as appealing as Zoe and Carter had hoped. Moisture glistened in her slit as its fragrance filled the air. “Mm,” the two women hummed quietly. We don’t all look the same down there, thought Zoe. And even if we did, that wouldn’t stop us from wanting to see other women’s secret fruit.

Carter stroked Ariadne’s girlish butt-cheeks, then lightly slapped one of them. “Bad girl!” Ariadne twitched, but stayed in position. Carter slapped the other cheek with more confidence.

Zoe faced Ariadne and held her hips in place. She could feel Ariadne’s breath on her ankles.

 Whap! Carter was getting into it, and Ariadne was taking it.

“My turn next. Leave some skin on her for me,” Zoe told Carter. She pulled off her sweater, her bra, her belt, her corduroy pant and her sensible cotton panties as quickly as possible. Being naked made her feel free, not exposed.

Ariadne stood up, looking flushed and disoriented. She noticed Zoe. “Nice tits, mama,” she said.

“None of that from you!” said Carter. She let her eyes travel over Zoe’s small breasts, slim waist and full hips, which she had never seen before. Carter grinned. “Will you do the honors, ma’am?”

“Gladly.” Zoe and Carter pushed Ariadne back into position. Zoe thought of reaching for her belt, and decided against it. She held her right hand as stiff as possible, and slapped Ariadne’s butt smartly. “Dirty girl!” Zoe slapped the other cheek, trying to keep the force even. Ariadne squeaked. “Are you going to learn how to wash dishes?”

Ariadne grunted something which could have meant “yes.”

Whap! “Speak up, girl! Are you going to wear underwear, and keep it clean?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Ow, stop, that’s enough.”

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” Zoe pulled Ariadne upright, and hugged her with passion. Both of them were shaking. “Ari,” sighed Zoe. She kissed Ariadne and snaked one hand down between them to find Ariadne’s wet bush.

Ariadne moaned, and something melted in Zoe.

“I just need to know how you’re doing,” she mumbled. She hunched down as two of her fingers found Ariadne’s swollen clit and squeezed it. 

“Zoe, are you fucking her already?” Carter tried to pull them apart, but Ariadne spread her legs and Zoe plunged her fingers in as far as they would go, like shooting a bolt into its slot. Ariadne clung to Zoe for dear life, moving fluidly on Zoe’s slippery fingers.

“Hey, don’t let her come! She can’t come yet!” Carter really seemed annoyed, although the subject of coming hadn’t been discussed at all. Carter grabbed Zoe’s wrist and abruptly pulled her out of Ariadne. Carter wedged herself between them.

“Carter, I really want her.”

“Well, show some self-control, woman. Shit. There’s a way to do things, and this isn’t it. Think about it, Zoe. Now I have to find something to keep her worked up that won’t let her get off.”

Carter looked wildly around her, and saw a spool of black thread on the floor. Half of it was unwound, lying in a dusty snarl. “This isn’t clean, but it’s good enough for you.”

Carter bent down, picked up the spool, unwound more of the thread and bit off a length of it with her teeth. “Here, you. Stay like that, legs spread.”

In a humble-looking gesture, Carter knelt on one knee and spread Ariadne’s bush with both hands. Then Carter pulled a Kleenex out of her jeans pocket and actually wiped Ariadne’s lower lips like a mother wiping spittle off a child’s mouth. Zoe could see her making a fast circular motion.

“Uh,” grunted Ariadne.

“There. Don’t touch it until one of us takes it off for you. You better do what you’re told or you won’t get no satisfaction.”

“It’s hard for me to come anyway. You didn’t need to worry about it.”

“We’re in charge here, trash, not you.” Carter stood aside to let Zoe see her handiwork. Zoe spread Ariadne’s lower lips to see that her clit was tied as tightly as possible with a tourniquet of thread. Zoe snickered.

“It’s like a cock ring for a girl,” bragged Carter. “Best I could do.”

“Do you think it will stay on while we wash her?” Zoe wanted to see Ariadne sopping wet, and she wanted an excuse to touch her all over.

“She’ll get a lot dirtier before she gets clean.” Carter briskly unbuttoned her shirt, folded it, and continued undressing until all her clothes were lying in a neat pile in a corner. She had an impressive number of tattoos and piercings, but Zoe and Ariadne were too distracted to study them.

“I’ll need your help, Zoe.” Carter handed her a small rubber butt-plug. “Plug her with this, will you?”

“Gladly. Bend over, slut.” Ariadne let herself be maneuvered into a convenient position for Zoe to find her small, puckered hole and push the plug into it. “Keep this in until we take it out. It will keep you in the right frame of mind.”

“I have something to show you, Ari.” Carter grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the kitchen. “This room is a fucking health hazard. Do you want to start a maggot farm or die from an infection? Down on your hands and knees. I know it’s a nasty floor. That’s the point.”

Ariadne arranged herself on all fours. Zoe stood closest to the door, where she could admire Ariadne’s red ass.

Carter rummaged in the fridge. “You like beer, do you?” She popped open a cold can. Without warning, she poured a fizzy yellow stream on Ariadne’s hair.

“Aww!” wailed Ariadne. But she didn’t move. Zoe didn’t know what to say.

 “You like that, do you, piggy? There’s more.” Carter opened a jar of applesauce and shook blobs of it over Ariadne’s back. “Zoe, what do you think would happen to her if we left her to live in this filth? She eats in this kitchen.”

Ariadne was a gleaming mess. “She’s right, baby,” said Zoe. Her hands itched, and she opened a cupboard to find something with a contrasting texture. A half-empty box of crackers caught her eye. Zoe was soon crumbling them over Ariadne’s head, admiring the starry shine of salt crystals against the midnight darkness of her dripping hair.

Zoe wanted to see what Ariadne would look like with something red and viscous on her skin. Carter seemed to have the same thought, and she found a jar of pasta sauce in the fridge. Using a wooden spoon, Carter trailed a red line down Ariadne’s back and spread some of the sauce into horizontal stripes like stylized ribs. Ariadne shivered.

Zoe added canned peas and black olives for color contrast. She drizzled olive oil all over Ariadne to give her a slick shine.

The naked woman on all fours responded to each new substance with a new sound. She seemed to have lost the power of speech.

Carter slid her hand between her ass cheeks to jiggle the base of the plug. A ripple seemed to flow from there through the rest of Ariadne’s body.

Zoe ran her hands all over Ariadne, teasing her nipples until they pointed redly at the floor. Zoe smeared some of the mess on herself, and straddled her victim, pretending to ride her. Zoe slapped her greasy rump. “We’ll have to hose you down with industrial-strength detergent. Unless you want to stay like this.”

“How’s your clit?” asked Carter, bending down to examine it.

Some of the liquid dripping from Ariadne’s face seemed to be tears. “It’s—beating. Like a pulse.” Her voice sounded huskier than usual. Zoe could almost feel an intrusive plug in her own ass, and hear it calling to a bound clit.

“You’re a stuffed little animal, but you still need something else,” said Carter. Zoe needed something herself, but she also wanted to push Ariadne to a breaking-point.

Zoe stood up and pulled Carter into her arms, loving the hardness of her muscles and bones. She had a hunch. “I bet she has a dildo.”

“Is that true, Ari?” asked Carter. “If you don’t tell us where it is, we’ll take you outside and tie you to the fence while we look for it.”

“My top left dresser drawer,” said Ariadne.

“I’ll get it.” Zoe didn’t really expect to find it where Ariadne said it was. The obscenely realistic silicone cock was impossible to miss, and it looked too big to fit inside Ariadne. Zoe wondered if she had kept it as collateral for something of hers which had disappeared with a fly-by-night companion.

Carter had two fingers deep in Ariadne’s cunt when Zoe came back to the kitchen. “See this,” she said.

Carter laughed and withdrew her fingers, which shone wetly. “We knew she was a greedy pig. There’s the proof. Do you want to do her?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Ariadne was shaking and shifting her weight, but Zoe found her as wet between the legs as she was everywhere on the outside.

“Fuck her hard,” urged Carter. Zoe spread Ariadne’s lower lips wide enough to accommodate the smooth, arrogant head. Ariadne moaned as it sank into her, inch by inch, under Zoe’s steady pressure.

The dildo filled Ariadne to its wide base. By pulling and pushing, Zoe set up a rhythm which must have affected everything in the neighborhood of Ariadne’s deep channel.

“This is your life, Ari,” sneered Carter. “Living in garbage and getting fucked with an elephant cock. You asked for it. It’s what you deserve.” Carter reached under her and tugged at the thread on her clit. Ariadne grimaced in pain.

“No-o!” she screamed. Zoe could feel her convulse around the objects inside her. She came and came as though she would explode. Zoe and Carter held her like human shock absorbers.

Zoe’s face was wet when she carefully pulled the dildo and the butt plug out of Ariadne’s swollen flesh. Zoe kissed Carter over Ariadne’s back before they each wrapped their arms around her and helped her to her feet.

Carter looked more shaken than Zoe had ever seen her. The two conspirators formed a pungent sandwich with Ariadne as the filling, and they kept her balanced between them.

The three women swayed together, slipping against each other. Zoe wondered if they had fucked open a new crack in the universe, a way out of no way. She felt as if they had all fought a monster, and it made her love the other two like crazy.

Zoe knew there was plenty of time for them to clean up the mess and continue their game, or vice versa. She could hardly wait to offer her own ecstasy, an explosion out of her skin, to whatever gods might be watching.

Published by Jean Roberta

Jean Roberta lives on the Canadian prairies, where the vastness of land and sky encourage daydreaming. She teaches literature, composition and creative writing in the local university. She, her beloved wife, and a menagerie of dogs and cats live in a house built in 1914. Jean’s diverse fiction (mostly erotic) has appeared in over one hundred print anthologies. Her single-author collections include Obsession (Renaissance) and The Princess and the Outlaw: Tales of the Torrid Past (Lethe Press) plus The Flight of the Black Swan: A Bawdy Novella (Lethe, also in audio). She co-edited Heiresses of Russ 2015 (Lethe), an annual anthology of the year’s best lesbian speculative fiction. Her five stories about academic Domme Dr. Athena Chalkdust, all originally published in Cleis anthologies, are available as an ebook.

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