An Agency Story: Double Trouble (3 page)

She ran the tip of her tongue down the length of my slit,
sampling my juices, learning the shape of my soft folds and creases. More
daring now, she closed her lips around my clit and stroked it with her tongue,
holding down my hips as I twitched under her mouth.

I moaned, and Mrs. Stewart gently kneaded my aching
breasts. “Does that feel good, baby girl?”

Shanna kissed my slippery cleft with eagerness now,
letting my honey smear all over her nose and chin. God, she looked so
beautiful, with my wetness shining on her face in the dim light.

She licked deep into my pussy, my core. Trembling, I
swallowed and tried to control the flood of sensations threatening to pull me
under.

Watching me with those intense blue eyes, she slipped
three fingers inside my hot sheath, stroking my walls, exploring my most
intimate secrets. She curled her tongue around my clit again and made agonizing
circles around it, drawing me into a state of total paralysis.

“Oh god,” I squealed. “Oh my
god.”

I could feel the orgasm take over
—
washing
over me, throbbing out from Shanna’s mouth and fingers all over my aching body.
Mrs. Stewart kissed me in that moment of ecstasy, feeling me squirm underneath
them both, as if she were drawing out the pleasure of my climax through her
kiss.

Shanna lapped slowly at my swollen pussy with her wide,
pink tongue, enjoying the sensation of my flesh trembling under her clever lips.

“Good job, angel,” whispered Mrs. Stewart to Shanna.

She smiled at me, a devilish new sparkle in her seemingly
pure sapphire eyes.

Chapter Four

Shanna held my hand the whole way back. Half of me wanted
to yank my hand away…the other half of me knew that I couldn’t do that to her.

Everything seemed to be normal when we returned, although
the snow seemed to be coming down faster and harder than before. The cabin was
coated in a thick layer of pure white snowflakes, like frosting on a cake. Mr.
Stewart had already come back from town and stocked the cabinets with food and
drinks, so we were set for a long, intimate weekend inside the warm, cozy cabin.

Right away, the kids went absolutely bonkers. Of course. As
soon as their parents left to go snowshoeing the next day, they turned into
total monsters. That first day inside they ran around the living room until we
had to separate them into different rooms, like animals at the zoo. They were
so wild that Shanna and I had to deal with them in shifts: she took them while
I had lunch, and I was in charge of them while she had lunch and a break that
afternoon.

And that was when it happened.

When I took a bathroom break, the kids got into Shanna’s
room and drew all over Shanna’s clothes with their markers and hand paint. I
don’t even know how they got hold of the paint, but never underestimate three
kids cooped up in a cabin with their parents and two hapless nannies.

Maybe it was just a practical thing, having the two of
us
, I thought to myself, as I dragged Caden and his siblings to their
time-out corners.
The adults are outnumbered…and t
he kids are even
crazier than they were last year.

 As I wiped the paint off their faces and tried to
clean them off the best I could, I worried how Shanna would react.
Probably
pretty bad.
She was sweet and cute but she was clearly a clotheshorse.
Ugh,
it happened while I was in charge...

I set a timer for the time-out and stood outside the
rooms, listening to them cry and complain. I was losing patience
fast
.
I have to try and wash her clothes. Maybe I can get this out. This is all my
fault.

I was dumping her clothes into the washer when she came
over from lunch. “Hey Ashie,” she said. “I was wondering if you
—
”

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me with an
armful of her clothes.

“What are you doing? Is that all mine?”

I sighed and pushed the rest of it into the washer. “The
kids got into your clothes with their art stuff. I’m so,
so
sorry,
Shanna. I’m going to see if I can get it out.”

She ran over and dug through the washer, panicked.

“This is all of it,” she said. “Every piece! All the
clothes I packed!”

“They got to it while I was in the bathroom,” I said.
“It’s my fault, Shanna. I’ll take care of it and pay for everything, don’t
worry.”

“Oh no,” she said, picking up a blue cashmere cardigan
with red acrylic paint smeared on the collar. “My mom gave me this for my sixteenth
birthday.” She had tears in her eyes that she was trying hard not to show.

I’d never felt so guilty in my life.

“It’s
—
”

“No, it’s not your fault.” She cut me off. She stood up
and tossed the cardigan into the wash, and surreptitiously wiped away a tear.
“I’m being ridiculous, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Shanna
—
I’m sorry. I really am.”

She tried to smile. “I know, it’s okay.”

Over the next few hours, I tried spot treating the clothes,
washing and re-washing them. But the clothes were ruined no matter what I did. Part
of me wondered if it was my early wishful thinking come true…but now, I
liked
Shanna. I couldn’t stand to see her sad.

I had to think of some way to make it up to her.

* * * *

The Stewarts took away DVD privileges from their kids for
the next two days as a punishment for their bad behavior. Secretly, I wondered
if this punished the nannies more than the kids, but I kept it to myself.
Still, it was nice that they were taking it seriously. They made a big bowl of
spaghetti and meatballs
—
apparently Shanna’s favorite
—
and
put the kids to bed early.

I was washing up for bed when I realized that Shanna’s
pajamas were still in the dryer. I changed into a nightshirt after my shower
and searched for an extra nightgown in my luggage
—
a pretty white
cotton camisole—and carried it over to her room.

She opened the door, wearing only an oversized t-shirt.
“Hey,” she said, clearly surprised.

“Hi,” I said. “I brought you a nightgown. You can borrow
any of my clothes anytime, seriously. Just go in my room and take out whatever
you like. I packed way more than I needed, anyways.”

I took a deep breath. “Shanna, I’m really, really sorry
about what happened earlier.”

She opened the door wider. “Okay. You wanna come in?”

I felt suddenly a little unsure. “Sure.”

She closed the door behind me, and took the camisole.
“This is cute,” she said. “Totally my style.”

“I figured,” I said, feeling slightly relieved.

She played with the gown for a moment, thinking. “Can I
tell you something?”

My heart started thumping. “Sure,” I said. “You can tell
me anything.”

She sat down on the edge of her bed, quiet at first.

“You know, I’ve been trying this whole time to figure out
a way to say it. And I can’t think of a really good way, so I’ll just come out
and be honest with you.” She took a deep breath.

“I—I got the feeling from the very first night I
came here that you didn’t like me.”

I immediately tried to protest, but she cut me off.

“Nah, Ash, c’mon. You know it’s true. I could see it in
your eyes. You—you were here first, with them first, and it totally makes
sense that you’d feel weird about having me here.”

She turned her wide, honest blue eyes towards me, and I
started to feel like the
worst human on the face of the planet.

“But to tell the truth…” She kicked her feet against the
bed, fidgeting. “It’s been hard here. Like, really hard. In ways I never
expected.”

I sat down next to her, worried.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t get so upset about a couple of clothes,
you know? But I think I freaked out about that because of…because of everything
that’s happened. I’ve never done…things like that before.”

She was trembling slightly, and I took her hand.

“Hey,” I said. “I know. I felt the exact same feelings
last year. And since we’re being honest here, I have to say…yeah, I was
jealous. It’s immature, yeah, but it’s true. But I don’t feel it anymore, I
promise.” I smiled. “You’re freaking awesome, Shanna.”

I tried lightening the tone. “I mean, those were the best
waffles I’ve ever had in my life. I was worried that you were going to make me
look bad. I’m good at nuking food in the microwave and that’s about it.”

“And one more thing.” She looked away from me. “I like
you.”

I blinked, surprised.

“I never thought it would be possible at first…but I like
you.” When she turned towards me again I saw that her eyes were shimmering with
tears. She smiled shyly.

I put my arms around her, and she tucked her head into the
crook of my shoulder. God, she was so tiny, and still trembling. I kissed her
head, which smelled like her floral shampoo. In return she kissed my shoulder.

After a long moment, I lowered my head and met her lips in
a sweet gentle kiss. It was slow and soft, releasing all of the secrets between
us and deepening in intimacy.

Her mouth was minty and warm, and here with only the two
of us, I knew that I had found a true friend. And maybe…a lover.

She broke the kiss and sighed deeply.

“Can you stay with me tonight, Ashie? We don’t have to do
anything—I just want you here. Please?”

I nodded, and kissed her cheek.

We fell back on her bed together. Shanna pulled the
blankets up around us, and we curled into each other. I felt so calm and
anchored, with her next to me. Together, we drifted off into a deep sleep, feeling
safe and sound.

* * * *

It was the middle of the night when I woke up.

There was a knock at the door, and then it squeaked open,
ominously.

It was the Stewarts. I sat up, immediately awake. They
closed the door behind them.

Somehow, Shanna was still sound asleep next to me. I tried
to keep my voice low.

“Are the kids okay?” I whispered to them.

They came a little closer. “They’re fine,” said Mrs.
Stewart. She was dressed in a robe, and her husband wore only a pair of boxers.

I sighed with relief. “Oh, okay.”

“But that’s not why we’re here,” she said.

My heart began to race, and Shanna finally stirred next to
me.

“Mr. Stewart? Ashie?” She sat up too, looking flustered,
and flicked on the dim lamp next to the bed. “Oh, I was extra cold so I asked
Ashlyn to stay here with me, I hope that’s okay—“

Mrs. Stewart smiled. “You’re fine, angel.”

“Why we’re here—“ Mr. Stewart sat down on the bed
next to me. “It’s about the accident with the clothes earlier today.” He looked
at me, stern.

“The kids were punished,” he said. “But it happened on
Ashlyn’s watch. So Ashlyn needs to learn a lesson from all this.” His steel
eyes were dark and hot as he stared me down.

I could feel the blood surging in my veins. Without
another word, he threw the blanket off of us both.

“Out of bed,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

I eased off the bed and stood up, nervous.

“Take off that shirt, baby girl. You won’t need it
tonight.”

Meeting Shanna’s shocked and stricken gaze, I lifted the
shirt up over my head and dropped it on the floor.

“Those little white panties, too.”

I took a deep breath and slowly slipped my fingers into
the panties, and lowered them down over my legs. I stood there totally nude, my
skin covered with goose bumps, my breath already beginning to speed up.

He looked at me approvingly. “C’mere, Ashlyn,” he said,
and I hesitantly walked over to him. He pulled me to him, his hands on my hips.
“God, you are so beautiful,” he muttered. “But that won’t get you out of this.”

Mrs. Stewart came up behind me and pushed me down, forcing
me to lie on his lap, my tits crushed against the bed, my ass lifted up and
exposed on his lap.

At this point, I couldn’t see anything but the bed sheets.
I could feel Mrs. Stewart’s hand in my hair, stroking me gently. Blind, all my
senses were heightened, and all I could hear was my quick, nervous breath.

I felt a faint tickle as his fingertips traced the curves
of my ass, learning every contour, enjoying the feel of my soft skin. They
lingered at the juncture of my thighs, light and teasing.

This wasn’t so bad.
I took a deep breath.

Suddenly, the smack came, brutal and fast. I gasped, my
skin stinging with the force of the blow. Just as I was recovered from that
one, another came. And then another.

I buried my face in the sheets as he spanked me. The pain
was a shock, and I was trying not to cry out too loudly.

Mrs. Stewart’s hand was still in my hair, but now holding
me down, keeping me trapped and submissive.

Almost against my will, I could feel a faint thrill
between my thighs, the ghost of a sensation that I tried hard to fight off.

Oh god, now?

I’d lost count of the spanks, although I was whimpering
with each slap…the heat of his hand against my red and sensitive bottom seemed
only to stoke the fires of my senseless desire.

I was sobbing into the bed now, my cries muffled. Yes. I
deserved this. Up to now, I’d been a bad girl. Mean. Selfish. Jealous. I
deserved every single slap.

I was totally subjected to him now, humiliated, desperate
for release. I twisted as much as I could but he still held me in place with an
iron hand on my lower back. Underneath me, I could feel his rock-hard erection,
pressing mercilessly into my stomach.

Then, as suddenly as the blows had come, they stopped. I
realized I was still sobbing, my tears staining the sheets, and my hands
clutched the bed for dear life.

Mrs. Stewart let go of my hair, and Mr. Stewart lifted me
up. He guided me down, letting me lie on the bed on my stomach. My ass had to
be a deep crimson red, I knew, and all of them could see it. Proof of my sins.
My chest was heaving as I tried to slow my breathing.

Unexpectedly, Shanna crawled over, and kissed me deeply on
the mouth. Silently she tried to comfort me, laying her head on my pillow,
lying on her side to face me. She kissed away all of my tears, her gentle lips
touching my cheeks and mouth.

I felt a light, cool touch on my bruised bottom, and
flinched. It was Mrs. Stewart’s hand, and she was being gentle…
oh.
She
kissed the soft skin of my ass, tenderly, slowly. A moment later I felt a
soothing lotion being spread on my skin, rubbed into the inflamed site of my
punishment. I sighed and whimpered with relief, begging for more.

My endorphins were surging and it felt so, so good. Thanks
to the gentle numbing lotion, the pain in my bottom was finally beginning to
fade.

Still kissing me, her eyes fixed on mine, Shanna ran her
fingers down my shoulder and upper back. Slipping her hand under me, she rolled
my nipple between her fingers, teasing it into a tight bud. I winced against
her mouth, and she whispered
sorry
softly against me. But I knew that
look in her eye...it was the same as the time she hit me with a snowball. She
wasn’t really sorry.

Mrs. Stewart parted my legs into a deep V, massaging my
trembling thighs with her hands. She was preparing me for something...

At the same time, I felt the faint tickle of stubble on my
lower back. I twitched.

“Hold still, baby girl,” said Mr. Stewart, his masculine
voice rough and low. He was trying to control himself, and failing.