Broodcomb
Epilogue
“You know, I think if I knew being a sex slave was like this, I’d have signed up a lot earlier.” Emily suddenly opined as she finished stuffing the contents of a laundry basket into the washing machine.
Claire glanced up from the rumpled sheet in her hands. “That’s... probably the conditioning talking.”
Emily slammed the hatch shut and sat on it, bring her head just above Claire’s. “Probably? It feels so good, being a slave though.“ The machine rumbled and trembled as the drum spun up. “And the sex is amazing...” She sang, nearly creaming her pants again as memories of last night flashed through her head. The thrumming against her clit was probably a contributing factor.
“Well, yes, but...” Claire shrugged with her shoulders, and then finished dragging the sheet into the first of many folds. “...that’s the conditioning. The, uh, obedience thing. And the sex thing.”
“...Yeah, you’re right. It’s the conditioning.” Emily conceded, and slid off the machine before she could cum for real.
And paused. Claire’s expression, as she deftly folded the sheet into a neat square and placed it in the basket, was...ruminative. Regretful.
And entirely too familiar.
Fragments flickered before her mind’s eye, memories corroded—and impressions reframed. Odd looks. Puzzling inquiries.
The taste of orange and mint splashed across her tongue.
Acts of kindness—taken for granted.
“I was being kinda stupid, wasn’t I?” Emily suddenly began. “Before the enslavement thing.”
Claire blinked, rocking backwards. “Uh—Well, no, I was—“
“No. Seriously,” Emily chopped her off. “Those looks. The questions. The favors. I should’ve realized something was up.” She palmed her forehead. “But it’s OK now, though! I mean, you still love me, and now I love you back, and, you know. “ Her hand absently palmed her crotch before she stuffed it into a pocket. “The sex thing.”
“I...” Claire trailed off. She shrank in on herself, wrapping her arms around her chest, staring down at everything except Emily’s eyes. “Just...I just wish I could’ve come out to you the normal way.“ She forced herself to look up. “Even if you didn’t swing that way...if you couldn’t have...” She choked on her words, her mouth working soundlessly. Finally her head jerked down and away, breath hissing through clenched teeth.
Emily made to reply, but the words wouldn’t come. The washer churned on.
Finally, she stepped up. Claire froze as lithe arms snaked under her own, embracing her without restraining her. “Yeah,” Emily breathed into her shoulder. “I know.” She leaned her head back and met Claire’s tearing eyes with her own. ”This is almost as good though, right? In the end?”
Claire stared down at her. Then she slowly, hesitantly, smiled, and unwrapped her arms to tuck Emily’s head against her bosom. “S-sure,” she conceded, and if it was only to accept her forgiveness for a situation that was really not her fault at all, then that was enough.