Lifting myself up off of Brigitte, I pulled my shorts back into place and walked over to Cynthia. The tears were pouring down her face. I didn’t understand why, unless… she had somehow bonded with my on an emotional level.
Putting my arm around her shoulders, I led her to Brigitte’s bed. I sat down and pulled Cynthia onto my lap, letting her rest her head on my shoulder, her tears cascading onto my t-shirt.
Reaching out telepathically, I gently entered her mind, accessing her thoughts. Slowly, I went through her memories until I found her experience from this morning. Sorting through the associated thoughts and emotions, I discovered that several things. One, she believed only in having sex with those she loved. Two, sex with those you love was to be pleasurable for both her and her partner. And three, because of the command I had given her to enjoy making love with me, Cynthia was passionately in love with me and could not understand why I would screw anyone else.
Well, damn, I thought. This’ll take some work.
“Cynthia,” I said. “Do you love me?”
“Yes,” she sobbed, her voice muffled by my shoulder.
“Why do you love me?”
“Because I made love to you.”
“Shouldn’t that be the other way around?” I asked.
Startled, Cynthia pulled away from my shoulder and looked at me.
“Wha, what do you mean?”
“Shouldn’t you love me, and because of the love want to share your body with me?”
“I, I don’t know. I don’t understand.”
Damn, I thought.
“If you love me,” I said. “You would want to have sex with only me, right?”
Cynthia nodded.
“And the act of sex between us would be a bond of our love, correct?”
She nodded again, her blonde curls bouncing.
“So, how do you know you love me?”
Cynthia’s brow furrowed as she thought, squinting her eyes in concentration.
“I, I don’t know,” she finally said after several minutes. “But why else would I make love to you?”
“An impulsive act,” I suggested. “We, well more you because you did all the work, screwed. It was an act of impulsive sex. For some reason it happens all the time.”
“Okay…” she said, giving me an odd look.
“Sex between a dedicated couple is different, Cynthia,” I said. “It’s an act of commitment, a bond between two people who love each other. It’s a mutual act of respect. In comparison to this morning, you basically raped me. You forced yourself upon my body to achieve your own pleasure.” I knew this was a lie and I was being a bit of a hypocrite, but I hoped this would help Cynthia out.
“Oh, no…”
Hugging Cynthia to me, I continued, “But in truth, you did not rape me because I did not tell you to stop. We screwed. It’s as simple as that, okay?”
“Okay,” she finally smiled, hugging me back. “Would it be a problem if I only screwed you?”
“It wouldn’t be a problem, Cynthia,” I said. “But remember. I’m a man. And as a man, I’m generally horny and will screw whomever I want with consent. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure,” she said, snuggling into my chest. “But please, don’t screw Mom or Antoinette. I want to be better than them, and you’re part of the reason why.”
“I won’t screw them,” I promised. “I have other things in store for them.”
“What about me?” Brigitte broke in. “Can I screw other men?”
“Only if I say so,” I replied.
“That means no, doesn’t it?” she pouted.
“Not necessarily,” I said. “But for the moment, I want you to be my slut.”
“Why am I the slut?” she asked. “Why can’t Cynthia be the slut?”
“Because Cynthia’s the angel,” I answered. “You two are unique. You both have different styles that appeal to me and I want to be able to enjoy both of you.”
“Okay,” Brigitte resigned, lowering her head.
“Cheer up, Brigitte,” I smiled. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
“I did,” she brightened, a grin forming. “I’m your slut!” The two sisters giggled.
“How about we go out and have brunch?” I said. “Then we can do some shopping.”
“Sure,” said Cynthia.
“Who’s paying?” Brigitte asked.
“You are. You’re the only one with cash until your mother hands hers over to me.”
“I don’t know…”
“Trust me,” I said. “You’ll earn it back.”
“Okay then,” Brigitte smiled.
“Let’s get changed and go girls!” |