Nine
The memory of her time with the brothers and Darren had the same effect as a hangover on Violet the next morning. Whether through pity or some sort of unexpected need to rush out in the morning, Darren didn't come see her as usual, though it may have also been because of the extended session they had the night before. If Violet's memory was right, he'd fucked both her holes several times, stopping after each orgasm he forced out of her. Even if he was in better shape than most men his age, it had to have exhausted him.
Violet still cleaned herself with the bathroom equipment and made her way to the gym. She was too numb for emotions just then so she practically stumbled into Abigail's changing room when she found it. Abigail's face lit up like a kid at Christmas but faltered a bit at seeing her.
"Come over here into the light Violet. You don't look so good," she said.
Violet stood in the bright lamps around the mirror and pulled off her shirt and sports bra in one move. She saw now that her eyes were puffy and looked a little pink, her lips were chapped and peeling, and her tits were actually discolored, with possible bruises forming on them. Her ass felt tingly as if it had somehow gone to sleep, until and unless she clenched the muscles when she instead felt bursts of pain like she was trying to clamp her sphincter around a thorn vine.
Violet stared at her reflection, mostly just seeing her own eyes. "Abby?" she whispered.
Abigail stopped moving. Violet had never called her that, despite Abigial asking her to whenever they were together and she was in her "girly" persona. Abigail's expression hardened a bit, as if realizing something might be very wrong. Violet slowly bent forward and crossed her arms, putting her head down on them.
"Before...before you start, can you make sure I'm not bleeding back there?"
Violet's voice was level and deadpan, with almost no inflection; her request to have her ass examined sounded no different from someone asking if their hair looked all right. Abigail carefully moved around and examined the girl's ass, dragging up nursing skills from long ago that she'd buried and forgotten when she met George. Violet saw a light flicker in the mirror and glanced back down her own body. The waving bright white light was from a cell phone. She idly wondered if the girl were taking video of her ass to add to her blackmail file. Fingers poked her and pushed at her hole, but they only sought penetration enough to pull her open. Still, it was almost a reflex now for her to do what she could to let anything that wanted into her ass. This time, though, the bearing down brought a small whimper.
"I think you're fine; I don't see anything," Abigail said. Her voice was the lower, gruffer tone of her dropping the persona. She looked at Violet in the mirror and Violet thought she saw genuine concern in the girl's eyes.
Then she realized the waif was probably only worried about getting off today. She's admitted at one point that her act turned George on, but he was still over sixty, and wanted to sleep more than he wanted to fuck. Violet was her release valve. Violet spread her legs wider and backed up so her tits hung down. She halfheartedly wiggled her ass.
"Go ahead then," Violet said, keeping most of the bitterness out of her voice.
There was a very pregnant pause and then Abigail just squeezed one ass cheek. "Go. Put some Vaseline up in that hole, that should help with the chafing; it looked raw. Then get yourself a massage. If you can manage it, don't do anything with your ass except shit for a day or two. And make sure you clean and re-lube after doing your business."
Violet suddenly felt a surge of fury. "I don't need your pity you stuck-up cunt. I just knew you'd be able to see something if it was there. Now fuck me!"
Violet saw a range of emotions flash across Abigail's face. The one it finally landed on was the pouty, almost fake look when "girly" Abigail was angry.
"I don't play with broken toys. I want them fixed and working. Now go away, I have to start my exercises so my tummy doesn't get too big for Daddy."
Violet glared back at the girl through the mirror, but noticed that while pouting, Abigail almost idly bounced her cell phone in her hand. Her eyes said it wasn't just a mindless gesture. Violet pushed herself up and stomped off toward the door.
"I'll play with you again on Thursday, Violet!" Abigail almost squealed.
Violet replied with a middle finger.
* * * * *
Violet got most of her stride back over the course of the next two days, though she began making a sizeable dent in Darren's liquor supply. After returning from her gym excursion where the masseuse had coaxed her into a nap, she downed most of a bottle of amber liquid and spent several more hours in a less restful state of unconsciousness. She did manage to wake and clean herself up enough to suck Darren off (or at least provide a mouth-hole for a face-fuck) when he got home. Dinner that evening could have been between any stereotypical long-married couple; Darren touched on a few different business topics Violet knew and cared nothing about, and when he asked her about her day she merely said it was fine. True to the stereotype, he fucked her that night in missionary only long enough for him to get himself off, and then rolled over and went to sleep.
The next two days the pattern repeated. Her Thursday gym trip convinced her she'd successfully eliminated any feelings of camaraderie or sympathy from Abigail; the girl sat on Violet's face and expected to have her pussy serviced while she went to work getting her arm up Violet's ass again. She told Violet afterward that, "the shouting and everything vibrated my cunny so nice. Your tushy is pretty when it's full." Violet was glad the girl wasn't trying to fake sympathy for her anymore, but now she worried the fisting would become a regular part of their play. While her muscles didn't seem to be wearing out at all, she noticed after serious anal play her ass would be a bit dilated for a while. It might be harder to hide from Darren.
She left the gym and was walking to a bistro nearby for lunch when a voice cut through the din of the city and stopped her heart.
"Violet!"
There was no question in the voice, simply recognition. She turned slowly.
Her maid of honor, Cherise, waved at her with a large smile. She had on a white, short-sleeved sundress that flowed in the wind, pulling against her body and highlighting her model-worthy curves. She looked like a fugitive from a casual wedding, and then Violet noticed the extra sparkle as her hand waved at Violet.
Cherise came up and Violet automatically went to give air kisses as all the rich-bitch crowd did. Cherise either covered her confusion quickly or knew what to do because she returned the gesture. Then the ring was pushed in Violet's face. Violet's first thought was that it was smaller than hers. Then she managed to speak.
"Jim?" she asked.
Cherise nodded with a tooth-bearing grin. "He got hired last month. Full-time position at a financials technology company, whatever that is. He says they're tied into the stock market big names but they don't actually do anything with stocks, somehow, so they're okay as long as the stock market exists. He said he had this ring for a while but didn't want to give it to me until he was secure."
"That's great!" Violet said, mustering up every bit of cheer she could.
"Come on, I'll take you to lunch, tell you all about it!" Cherise said.
