Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 02
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BHaB (Part 2): “Heavenly Creatures”
Nine years and nine months later…
May 30th, 2:37 p.m.
The bell rang.
After all of her students had left, Ms. Greentree took a few moments to hang out in her classroom by herself, as she usually did once school let out. She swung her feet up on the desk and flipped through a few test papers and homework assignments. She shut her eyes and smiled. And they think THEY love Fridays, she thought.
She taught eighth grade health. The course material in this part of the curriculum dealt with subjects addressed at kids who were growing up and entering their teen years, and the kids thought a great deal of it was highly amusing. Most of them were perceptive enough to know that essentially, they were learning about sex, which they found quite entertaining. Especially the illustrations and photographs in the textbook. Before and after classes there were large pockets of giggling from students crowding around each other with their textbooks, pointing and snickering.
Ms. Greentree was teaching the health class now as a result of digging deep within herself to find out what she really wanted to do in her life. It was, basically, as the kids presumed, human sexuality class, cleverly disguised as “health,” so as not to incur concern from parents. She didn’t know if they talked about this with their parents. She could ask and they could say they did or they didn’t, but they could be pretty inscrutable; who knew for sure if they were telling the truth. All Ms. Greentree knew was, when she was these kids’ age, she was actually incredibly uncomfortable learning about this, from her parents or teachers. She couldn’t make eye contact discussing it, she became a little red in the cheeks and she idly put her hand over some part of her face just for a distraction. She wanted to put her hands over her ears and sing so she couldn’t hear it at all.
The fact was, the first two decades of her life were spent in avoidance of sex. She didn’t get it—in the sense of understanding it, that was to say—and she frankly just didn’t want to. It made her squeamish. She familiarized herself with her body developing and the changes happening to her, but that was about as far as it went. Somehow, the whole idea seemed like it should be secret…almost forbidden, even. She didn’t know why she perceived it this way, but upon learning about it, she questioned whether she should be learning about it. It seemed too adult and sophisticated for her. She thought for whatever reason she was too young to know about it. She thought she was too young to know about it up to the age of 20.
That was, until just a short time later.
Almost one full decade ago, something happened to her. She had undergone a terrible, traumatic incident which she kept buried in the recesses of her memory. No one ever knew it happened; she was too frightened to talk about it. And while it temporarily scarred her, it also very much opened her eyes. And she suddenly found herself very curious about such subjects which previously struck her as taboo. Out of nowhere, she did begin asking her folks things about sex. Questions which would’ve made the younger version of her jump up and run from the room peeing herself. She talked to her college “health” class professor about it. She talked to classmates about it. And when she wasn’t talking about it, she was reading about it. She couldn’t believe how intriguing it became to her after eight plus years of pubescent non-interest. As she advanced through her college career towards graduation, her fascination never decreased or wore off. Though she’d originally chosen a different major, she found she enjoyed gleaning knowledge on this so much, she decided she wanted to teach it. And now at 30, she knew just about everything there was to know.
The terrifying incident she experienced also taught her something else about herself: that she was gay. Prior to that point, she didn’t think one way or the other about it. And she didn’t realize it either until a year or two after the incident. When she was a teenager, she’d sit around school with some girl friends, and occasionally when a boy walked by, her friends would let out little whistles and giggle and whisper suggestive things to each other. She…didn’t get it. And years later, grown up, in a group of college women friends, again out and about together, when they’d comment on a good-looking man to each other, she…still didn’t get it. What’s so fascinating? she was wondering. They’re just like us, only with one or two different body parts.
Conversely, when she would eventually see something that caught her interest—like a nice rack on a cute young lady, for instance—and pointed it out to her friends, she was met with blank, confused stares. For some reason she didn’t know, she was different from them. And she didn’t see too many other girls around that were like she Pendik Escort was, either. She thought, SHOULD I be attracted to boys? It didn’t feel right. She just wasn’t. She was attracted to other girls! Why do all my friends like guys, but I don’t? Why do I like girls instead? I’m a girl! Aren’t I supposed to b—…is there something wrong with me? she wondered for a long time.
Another year or two passed, she learned a few things, and the merciful truth descended upon her. She was simply gay. And that was it. And there wasn’t anything wrong with her, she was happy to understand. She wasn’t wired ‘incorrectly,’ just differently from her galpals. It was the part of her upbringing being exposed to nothing but hetero-relationships that placed the doubts in her mind. But after some realization, she was faced with another scary question: Are my friends and family going to think I’m weird when I tell them this? With her naïve mind, she had just newly discovered the concept of being gay—what she didn’t know was that her peers were already well ahead of her with this knowledge. Unbeknownst to her, they were practically just waiting for her to discover it for herself and announce it for them. And much to her surprise, relief and delight, once she found herself inside and cautiously pried open its door, her friends and loved ones were standing right outside her proverbial closet with flowers, smiles and open arms.
More time went by, she learned more and more about herself and her identity, and she met other gay people. She didn’t find a whole lot of them around, but she figured out they tended to hang out and buddy up together at their own clubs and bars and places. Not exactly her favorite milieu, but she made some new friends. After which she was startled and alarmed to be told by (not all but certain) other gay people that upon their coming out, a percentage of their loved ones were not exactly waiting with smiles and open arms. She couldn’t understand. She thought, Well, we didn’t do anything wrong by just…being born, and…growing up, did we? Why woul—…
But yet a few more years went by, bringing her 20s to a close, and she came to realize it was just the nature of the human race. Some people were simply nicer about certain things than others. And that was just the way it was. There were also lots of other things that some folks didn’t wish to accept or acknowledge, but they too were real, in legitimate existence, and nothing would ever change that either. So, she decided not to let it bother her. She finished college, got her degree, went into teaching, and while out shopping one day, met a beautiful confirmation of the existence of a benevolent supreme being, whose name was Rachel.
And Rachel, as it turned out…was gay too.
And Rachel, as it turned out…liked her right back.
YAYYYYYYYY!! Suddenly she felt like the luckiest girl alive.
With this new and exciting lady in her life, and the fuel from the fire that was ignited by the frightening yet enlightening sexual trauma she went through all those years ago…hardly possible as it seemed, she had turned, from the shy, meek, guileless 20-year-old version of herself…completely around, one hundred and eighty degrees in the opposite direction, in these ten years. If an average person were to encounter her at both ages, though identical were the face and the body, the average person would still be unable to believe this was the same girl. The transformation was just that dramatic.
She was now a 30-year-old eighth grade health teacher on the exterior…
And a libidinous, lust-hungry, vagina-ruled, passion-inflamed, hot-blooded, girlfriend-crazed lesbian sexpert on the interior.
May 30th, 2:58 p.m.
There was only one week left until the students’ summer break, so excitement had been generating around the school. The teachers didn’t exactly get as much of a “break” as the kids, but Ms. Greentree didn’t mind that at all. She was enjoying her job, she was enjoying her social life outside of work/school, a nice warm summer was coming, another week was done with, and she had a mega-hot babe of a girlfriend waiting for her at home. Well, it was technically still only her home; Rachel hadn’t officially moved in with her just yet, but she might as well have; they both had keys to the pad, and they spent virtually every second of their free time at the house, just loving each other up. Over two years they had been together, and amazingly, the passion had not faded yet.
She quickly stopped by the mailbox to grab the envelopes—nothing interesting-looking; just bills and such. Each clear envelope window of course had all the official information printed on it:
637 Rosebud Avenue…
…and so on and so forth. She forgot about the mail and shimmered inside, tingling in her special places with the anticipation of Pendik Escort Bayan Rachel completely having moved in not long from now. Pretty soon this stuff is gonna say Holly Greentree AND Rachel Millerstein! she mentally cheered.
Rachel worked at the department store where Holly was shopping that fateful day. Holly’s back was turned as she was studying some attractive garments, and Rachel asked, “May I help you with anything, ma’am?”
Holly had never before really believed in love at first sight; the concept had struck her as silly. But when she turned around and her chocolate brown eyes met Rachel’s sparkling blue sapphires, suddenly her mind had been involuntarily changed. When Holly caught sight of those two depthless blue blinking soul windows, and proceeded to drink in the rest of what she saw, she decided this particular drink intoxicated her. She didn’t even know what it felt like to be drunk, but somehow she knew right now she was.
Rachel’s flaxen hair was locky, silky and streaked with bright gold highlights of different widths. The rest of her face was equally appealing, and complemented by her shapely 5’6″ figure. And she was wearing a store apron with a nametag that read, “Hello! My name is Rachel.” (Holly could not resist a cute chick in any sort of workplace uniform.)
Holly was a slightly more petite woman at 5’4″, with breasts half a cup size smaller than Rachel’s, and a nice curvy body of her own as well. Her hair was more amber in color, and more wavy than curly or straight. And the most popular word used to describe her face was “cute.” She had big brown puppy eyes, a little button nose, small soft pink lips and higher-than-average cheekbones.
It was fair and accurate to say that she easily fell for Rachel first. When Rachel asked if she could help her and Holly’s visual mind registered her features, she stammered in reply, not immediately finding the words she needed. When she regained her vocabulary, the two of them started looking around together for some nice articles of clothing for Holly. They wordlessly read each other’s sexuality (as most lebbis possess the ability to do with each other), and before too long were mutually flirting. Rachel said a couple of things to her that would probably blur the line of an appropriate employee-customer relationship, but Holly couldn’t have minded less. Holly got her nerve up and asked her a suggestive question.
“So when do you get off, honey? Oh, and also, what time do you stop working?”
They both reddened and giggled mischievously. It was her coy yet naughty way of asking for a date. And it worked. It was a super-fun day for Holly to replay in her mind over and over again.
Yet something she learned that day and since which remained the one big problem she really really didn’t like: Rachel smoked. To calm herself down, she claimed as her reason. Not as often as possible—one every few days or so—but she did, and Holly desperately wanted her to stop. She was very much against smoking. Cigarettes were not allowed inside or anywhere near Holly’s house. She kept trying to get her to quit. Rachel kept insisting she would. But it was unbelievably difficult. The addiction swallowed her like an undertow. But out of deference to Holly, she did make a point of brushing her teeth and taking a breath mint after work each day.
Holly got inside the house. “Yello?” she called.
“Yello back,” came a familiar, sexy voice.
“Is there a hottie in here?” asked Holly, looking around, kicking off her shoes and putting her purse and mail down.
“Mrrrraaaoow,” said Hobbie, walking into her path to rub against her legs.
“Scoot, cat, I didn’t mean you. Eat your food,” smiled Holly, giving her feline companion Hobbie a light nudge with her foot. “MrrrRAAAOow,” the cat said indignantly.
She heard the voice down the hall. “There might be a hottie in the bedroom…”
“Oh yes?” Holly queried, playing along with the game. She crept down the hall towards the bedroom, getting ready to pounce her, but when she peeked just far enough in to see the bed, she didn’t notice any hotties.
Rachel was actually in the room right beside the bedroom. She waited for Holly to look in the bedroom, watching through the crack of the open door, slipped it open, popped out and grabbed her ass with both hands. “Gotcha! Made ya look!”
“Aaahhh!” Holly shouted, jumping, then whirling 180° on her. The two were brilliant at keeping the romance and excitement alive in their relationship by playing little games and tricks like this on each other. “Oooh, you sneaky little…” she grinned, grabbing Rachel back and tickling her. Rachel was barefoot too, and she was intentionally in one of her outfits that made Holly just want to go crazy on her: a long-sleeved button-down white shirt with a black knee-length dress on top of it. Holly poked her with both index Escort Pendik fingers. “You are gonna pay for that one!”
“Oh yeah?” replied Rachel. “Well, nothing left in my sex bank, so, guess that only means one thing…” She whipped off her dress, jumped out of it and tossed it in Holly’s face.
Rachel brought out the animal in Holly. As naïve and innocent as Holly had once been, the untamed side of her had been awakened in these last nine to ten years, and the presence of Rachel in her life, her house and her bed set her wild side on fire. The once-hopelessly submissive Holly Lil Greentree turned dominant. And kinky. Incredibly kinky. And as steamy and passionate as Rachel was, there was something delightfully…deliciously vulnerable about her, that spoke to Holly. It said, “I want you; please own me and keep me as your property. Do what you will with me. I want to be your slave.”
And the animal in Holly answered, “Ohhh, you might just be sorry you said that, my dear sweet girl-toy.”
As they adjourned to the bedroom, Holly said, “All right, all right, foreplay time.” She danced to the other side of the room with the dress. Rachel was now in just her buttoned white business shirt, sleeves down to her wrists, shirt itself down to her thighs, with just a little of her lavender panties peeking out. DAMN her, she knows just how to make me want it, whorey little vixen, thought Holly.
“I’m thinking of a number from one through ten.”
“Congratulations,” said Rachel, unable to care less. “Let’s get in bed!” She got in position to leap in. “Betcha I can beat you to the big ‘O’!”
Holly adored foreplay. Rachel could more or less do without it.
“Nope!” Holly shook her head, gesturing to herself. “You don’t play, by golly, you don’t get any Holly.”
Rachel sighed in mid-leap. “Okay, fine, ya pussytease,” she reluctantly said. “Seven.”
“Nope!” She shook her head again with a grin. “Wrong; off with the shirt.” She threw her the “…and give it to me” gesture.
Ahhh… thought Rachel, getting the gist of the game. She slipped the shirt off over her head and tossed it over. That reduced her to just her underwear. “Fine, fine…two.”
“Nope! Gimme the bra!” said Holly.
Out popped Rachel’s naked breasts. “Five?”
“Nope! Panties!” said Holly.
That was it. Rachel was completely in the exquisite nude, but Holly still wanted her to guess. She tossed her hands. “Okay, ten!”
“Six? Three? Eight??!”
“Nope, nope and nope!” Holly grinned at her.
Rachel put her hands on her hips. “You weren’t even thinking of a number in the first place, were ya?”
Rachel hated it when Holly tricked her, but at the same time was turned on by her cunning.
Holly nodded proudly, launching into a BDSM scenario that had become one of their favorites, involving a police officer and a prisoner. “That’s Bitch Holly-Cop to you, babe. Sorry, you lose—and you know what that means…” Her smile disappeared, her voice deepened and she became dominant on her. “…you’re under arrest.” She pointed to the bed. “On your back.”
Rachel started obediently climbing up on the bed. Holly authoritatively spanked her on the way. “Move it!” she ordered. She went to the drawer where the handcuffs and other naughty toys were kept, turned back to Rachel, took her wrists and ankles and started shackling her down.
“You have the right to remain naked…” said Holly wickedly as she locked up Rachel’s wrists to the headboard first. “…Anything you see or feel will be held against you…” She traced a finger down the side of her body in a squiggly pattern, hitting some of the more sensitive spots, making her jiggle, and moved down to her feet to do each ankle one at a time on either of the bedposts.
“…You have the right to an orgasm…maybe.” One ankle, and… “If you cannot achieve an orgasm…” She took care of the other ankle, sauntered up to her, leaned down and whispered in her pretty little face, “…too fucking bad.” She chuckled under her breath, sliding a fingernail aimlessly down her torso. It tickled. And sent a shiver Rachel felt undulate through her whole body.
The next item Holly fished around for was the rubber glove. She pulled it on.
“A’right, jailbird, strip-search time.” SNAP!
Rachel closed her eyes. Holly sat between her legs, went to work on her and had her moaning within twenty seconds.
The strip-search was supposed to be more foreplay, even though Rachel really truly needed none. Rachel Keri Millerstein had been born with a libido on amphetamines. Once she was in the mood, she was IN the mood. After the strip-search was over, Holly played a little cat-and-mouse with her. She set her own breasts free. She crawled up on the bed on top of Rachel, straddled her and leaned over her torso, hands in the mattress, dangling her swinging breasts over her face. “Rachel wanna titty?” she teased in a childlike voice.
“Oohwee,” grinned Rachel, “Yes, please.” She leaned her head up towards them. But just before she could reach either of them, Holly pushed herself up higher, pulling them out of reach. “Whoops!” she said.
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