My Bitter Soul (FF/FF)

[AlexUSA3]

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My Bitter Soul (FF/FF)
Tuesday, December 31, 2024

I had just given birth to my and Ken’s third child and second daughter, Mary Evangeline, when Lauren said she wanted to spend Christmas with me. That made me happy, but it was while we were sitting on the living room floor, smiling at the happy children while cuddling our hubbies that she dropped the bombshell on me. It was when I made a fool of myself, too.

“Janie, I hate to say this on Christmas, but Mom has breast cancer,” Lauren was kind to me.
“Oh? Her knee jerk reaction to my arrival finally got its payback,” I got up and left the room, being a bitter jerk in word and deed.

That was enough for me, and I settled into a deep blue funk. I became quiet and introspective and couldn't enjoy doing anything except loving the family I cherished. It was a mild consolation for ruining Lauren's time in Minnesota. There were TUGs, but Lauren saved the best for New Year's Eve. I didn't deserve her love; I was triggered by what she had said; but I chose to act as I did.

“Lauren,” I finally said on the 29th, “I’m sorry. I never realized how much hate I harbored.”
“I know childhood brought nothing but misery for you,” and she forgave me with a hug.

Growing up as an unwanted child wired me improperly, and I’ll never rerout the circuits thanks to that woman. I have borderline personality disorder, but that’s not an excuse for my choices. BPD only explains my mood, not my choice to snap at Lauren or to love her. When I return this embrace, I have a feeling of gratitude that she can feel, and it’s a gratitude I failed to give when I was young. Better late than never.

The past six days saw me enjoy 18 years of psychological torture on an unavoidable loop in my mind’s eye, all the trauma I experienced until I snapped at that Thanksgiving get-together with both sides of the family. There are three moments that repetitively damage my psyche no matter how much I try to erase them: (1) overhearing Mom say she wished she had aborted me because she only wanted 1 boy and 1 girl, (2) having my hair cut as punishment for fighting with Lauren, and (3) the frat boy attack. The first and second ones are the ones that are killing me right now.

Mom wanted a “perfect doctor’s family” since she’s an ER nurse and Dad’s an ER surgeon, like I peed in her water bottle when she and dad decided to screw that night. She reacted with joy that is so electric that she took birth control for 9 months until she found a quack who would perform her 100% elective hysterectomy. I connected the first dots when I was 9, most of them at 11, and the rest at 12. She did a huge favor for me, though, by refusing to let me advance a third grade in school; she did that only because she didn’t want me to pass my older brother, although it was a benefit for me. Yeah, I know, her generosity is unforgettable, right?

“Janie, what you need is a game, a rough one, to let out the angst. Then we can talk out the rest.”
“Lauren,” I feel my heart leap a little, “Big girl TUGs? Shall we enlist my in-laws?”

That smile is all I need to hear. This kind of rough game is shared with a handful of people, but my sisters-in-law Caleigh and Eva top the list alongside Lauren. Lauren likes when the game is sexual, often played like it’s nonconsensual, but I can’t do that. My consent was violated by the boys at Pi Kappa Epsilon, and I still occasionally have nightmares reliving that moment. They ruined what little was left of my mind, but Caleigh and Eva saved me from that one.

Since the last story that involved Eva, Eva, the Pack Animal, her hearing has worsened to the extent that taking away her hearing aids is almost a form of sensory deprivation. She will be completely deaf someday, and it bothers me and my husband (her older brother) while everyone else around her, including Eva herself, seems to take it in stride. She’s my best friend, and I hate to see this happening to her when she’s such a good person. At least I can keep my chin up about it, though. I accept it, and she accepts that it makes me sad enough that I’ll cry in front of her.

“What brings you two here to visit the Rondell sisters?” Caleigh happily greets us at the door.
“Like I didn’t just walk out my back door and walk here?” I tease her back, “Anxiety.”
“What kind of anxiety?” the professional counselor asks me, “Weepy type or TUG type?”
“TUG type. Janie’s harboring bitterness towards our mom. I thought big sisters could…,” my big sister, my hero, rolls her eyes and laughs a little while imagining what will happen.
“Is that what you were talking about the other day?” Caleigh frowned, “I’m here for you, sis.”

Sitting in the recliner and putting down her knitting is Eva Rondell, the military tough girl with a heart of gold. How many girls wear a homemade dark brown ankle skirt, a beige turtleneck shirt, a burgundy bandana headband, and beige knee socks? She’s tough as nails, deaf as stone, but as lovable as Santa Claus once you get to know her. Eva Rondell is one of my best friends.

Hi, Eva speaks with her hands, Having you here always makes me happy.
I love you, too, I slowly respond in the language that she most easily understands.
Being captive is best when you’re the other captive, she rolls her eyes playfully.
You’re in a good mood today. I need that, I answer, blush, and look away.
“None of that now,” she’s by my side in an instant.
“Maybe God meant for you and Kenny to be married,” Caleigh reflected, “But He had Eva more in mind, knowing you’d be the sister-in-law and best friend she needed at this point in her life.”

I look to my older sister for approval. Bring on the TUGs! I’m in need of stress relief, so it will be quite intense. Buckle your seatbelts, everyone, because we’re going on quite the ride. It’s so obvious I’m in a bad way when I’m wearing black jeans, black socks, black canvas sneakers, and a black kerchief bandana with only the pink in my black-and-pink flannel shirt for a pop of color.

It's TUG time. There are several kinds of TUGs, but to me they’re all games. Even when we’re gathered to burn off negative emotions or stress, it’s still a game. This is just a game in which a girl has to be an adult to be allowed to play. I’ve heard some of my readers complain that they’re sick of F/F scenes, but those stories are the only ones I’m comfortable telling because I don’t tell (or try not to tell) stories where I’m playing with my husband because it always turns into a dirty romance. I have BPD, and it manifests in hypersexuality for me. I’m sorry, but, as much as I know some of you would like to read about that, I’m not comfortable with it right now.

Lauren’s about to zip me, but my mind’s split between two spots: my mother and sister-in-law. I am confused. Lauren still loves Mom despite the pain caused to us and our brother. I can’t, but I don’t have to hate her, do I? Maybe that’s my problem. I’m just as bad as Mom. Mom hated me for ruining her “perfect doctor’s family” as the unplanned third child; now, I hate Mom. Aren’t I such a good Catholic? NO. She’s still a person, but I’m not obligated to have a relationship with her, either. That ended for good at Thanksgiving in 2017, but I’m killing myself with bitterness.

“Two sweet princesses getting tied up together,” Eva wiggles her eyebrows.

How true that is! She’s a pampered princess thanks to Caleigh, and I’m a tall “Seminole Indian Princess,” as Eva dubbed me years ago. I have Seminole Indian in me and, I’m certain, a touch of Miccosukee as well. Lauren and I look like Florida Indians so strongly that it is comical, but I love it. I love the black hair that we keep in long braids and the dark eyes and the skin tone that shout “I’m an Indian!” Whatever it is, I might struggle with feelings about myself as a person, but I perhaps am vain about the bodies God gave me Lauren. To the TUGs!

Zips! Two big strong girls are about to be imprisoned in thin strips of plastic that are a source of both delight and devastation. When you’re 6’1” like me and 5’8” like Eva, it’s easy to use lots of these suckers to bind a girl. How about 7 binding my arms behind my back and 6 binding Eva’s? Is 10 enough for my legs? Is 9 enough for Eva’s? It’s not yet time to do more than this, but first a gag is needed. While classic ball gags and dirty sock gags are amazing, a CGC style ball gag is certainly the most appropriate for this moment. The CGC ball gag is simple: a rubber dog ball is threaded with a bandana through the holes that are drilled into the ball to make it breathable. It’s not a CGC trick but rather a college bondage sorority trick; a CGC girl started that though.

“Mmmmmmm!” Lauren knots a white bandana to hold my orange gag in my mouth.
“GMMPH!” Eva protests while Caleigh knots a brown bandana to hold a blue ball in her mouth.
“Lauren, it’d be a shame if something happened that resulted in these girls being exposed!”
“Caleigh, you were a sneaky pitcher, and you’re a sneaky dominatrix too!” Lauren laughs.
“There’s nothing sneaky about pulling up Eva’s shirt,” she narrates her actions, “Exposing a bra, fondling her a little, and then,” she continues, “Pushing the bra out of the way. It’s direct and so much fun when it’s your sister you’re exposing! Isn’t that right, Eva? Oh, can’t talk? Sorry.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Lauren nods her head and unbuttons my shirt, “It’s the exposure. Squeezing the boobies hard enough that you see that hormonal rush,” and then my pink sports bra is moved aside as well, “And then exposing her chest so you and your friends can laugh at its flatness!”
“GMMMMMMMM!” how dare she call my C-cup breasts flat when she’s a C-cup too!

Now comes the torture. I’m feeling better already! We’re forced to hop over to the banister rail that keeps people from falling down the stairs to the garage below the carriage house. Ken and I reinforced this to make it perfect for strong girls like Eva and I to be lined up so we can scream our heads off and thrash like maniacs during TUGs. Our wrists are pulled up and zipped to the rail, and then the real fun comes.

Binder clips go on each nipple. Oh, how I love the feel of that sweet pain! I love no kind of pain more than nipple clamps. Caleigh ups the ante. It’s normal to connect the clips with short pieces of twine or string; it’s cruel to attach a 1 pound dumbbell to it. Oh, sure, the clips are padded for extra endurance with them, but man does that hurt!

“YOWWWWCH!”
“-ou {one who has intercourse with mothers}!” Eva shrieks into her gag.

Strappados are so much fun. Our sisters picked something good for us, something that’ll build a good sweat. This is just the right way to burn off some bad energy. There are so many ways we could do that, but this one was hand-picked with “big sister love” Eva and I cherish more than I think either of us can put into words. We love no one like our big sisters. Right?

I hop a little to adjust my position, but doing that gives some momentum to the weights so they start swinging. YOWCH! This is only the beginning? I hate to see what's going to follow after this then! That hurts, but it is so good. I had forgotten. My mind is drifting back to college and a roommate I had who also had BPD. She also is a glutton for pain like me, but she outlasted me when we had a pain showdown some two or three years ago during a CGC reunion.

Now the fun begins. Groaning in pain is basically communicating with your mouth, right? That is enough to kickstart the unstoppable process we call drooling. Unstoppable and fun! There is a puddle forming on the floor already, and it's such a satisfying puddle. I feel like the drool takes a little of my angst away with it. It's a fun part of my situation, and I am enjoying myself now.

“Gmmmmmmm!” I try to say something intelligible and fail, but it's fun, “Mmmm mmmmmm!”
“Oh, Janie,” Lauren turns on the sisterly charm, “You want me to yank on your boobies noe!”
“Nnnnnnnnn!” I shake my head, but the jerk comes with mercy, “YOOWWWWWWW!”
“Mmmmph! Mmm Mm Mmmmm! Mmm Mmm Mmmmm Mmmmmmmm!” Eva snarls.
“Some days,” Caleigh reflects, “I’m a sadist. I can enjoy making Eva cry with the pain and even got a voyeuristic thrill out of handing her over to her boyfriend for a harsh f-cking. Not today.”

That is Caleigh, the blonde girl with the permanent scars from terrible acne caused by horrible endometriosis that afflicted her from when she was 16 to when she was 21. Finally, she found a doctor willing to risk her infertility to end the pain. Now, Caleigh is 27 and going steady with a guy, but more importantly she and I are still the close friends we became the day we met through Minnesota Tech softball.

What a fire is in Eva’s eyes! She cannot be defeated too easily, but this game isn't about defeat or conquest. She looks so good in the dark and earthen tones, and she is drool more than I. Her mouth isn't strained by the ball, but it could be if a bigger ball were used. That's what our sisters are preparing next, the switch from 2 inch gags to 2.5 inch gags. There's no time to react; with a jerk, one ball exits the mouth only for a larger one to take its place and be knotted tightly.

This is the moment, this awkward moment of freely flowing drool and Eva angrily protesting the actions taken by our sisters. I look up into Lauren’s and Caleigh's eyes and see that distinct type of love, the kind of love only given by older sisters to their younger sisters. Lauren stands with crossed arms, and Caleigh is playful. Eva and I are as we are… perfect in their eyes.

Isn't that what matters?

The laughter of TUG humiliation changes to a different form. Lauren knows me too well, and in a few minutes Eva and I are seated on the sofa. Our arms are zipped in front, with video games on the TV and controllers in our hands. The stress is gone, and forgiveness, even for Mom, is in my heart after so many years of anger and bitterness. I’ll never have a relationship with her, but I can still, hopefully, find the strength to pray for her that she can get her soul right before it's too late. After all, she still gave me life, and she's still my mother. As a Catholic, I owe her at least a prayer for her spiritual and physical wellness; that doesn't mean opening up for more trauma.

I'm going to have fun with my sister and sisters-in-law. Thank you for reading this anecdote of a special moment in my life, the moment I learned what true forgiveness does, and doesn't, mean.

THE END

[hafnermg]

Yay more Janie!! Great story!! It's amazing to think we have watched Jamie grow from a little kid to a Mom of 3!!