Chapter 1 - Giving thanks

(Author note: please note this is a continuation from the FREE chapter available. You should read it for context! Take a look at my stories for more)

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 22 —Thanksgiving

Only just a few weeks in, and I should have already learned not to groan around Dee. And yet, I let one fly after only my second plate.

Dee grinned and patted my stomach. “Aw, is someone a little full?” She cocked her eyebrows at me, nodding to the cabinet in the corner.

Discreet on the outside, within it contained all manner of tools and devices that were all but. We had used them all over the years we had known each other, though I suspected there may have been one or two new additions we had not yet inspected and tested fully. The difference, of course, was that we had used them all spaced out, often by several months, when the time was right.

If she opened the cabinet and pulled out any of those devices now; such as a hose and funnel, it would have been at least the sixth time since our arrangement began only a few weeks prior.

I shook my head, my red hair falling from its ponytail, and shoveled another mouthful of stuffing in.

“Finish this plate and you can rest,” she said, not unkindly. Still, her thin fingers pressed into my belly. “But first…” she slipped her other hand into her pocket and fiddled with something.
I furrowed my brow when the vibrating began, deep inside me. The intensity was slow, low and gentle, but its effects on me were immediate and noticeable.

I shoveled in another mouthful, grunting and crossing my legs as Dee cackled. “Don’t worry, just that for now. A little motivation.”

Motivation was something Dee was exceptionally good at. As I crammed more and more into my mouth, I thought back to our earliest days. Sunday Mornings at her yoga studio, her dark but sparkling eyes on me as I straggled in, usually with a muffin in hand and slurping the last sips of a latte with whip.

She had me pegged from day one. Her medium-dark skin and bouncy natural hair perfectly offset her hazel eyes. The tight abs and her toned shoulders sealed the deal.

I found myself scouring the instructor schedule and making twists and turns of my own workdays just to see her once or twice before the weekend rolled around again to our regular Sunday mornings. In turn, she took great care in greeting me before every class and giving me pointers directly in session.

I blushed the first few times; she had a knack for offering advice only when my ass was pointed directly in the air and toward her, until I realized after far too long she was flirting with me.

And I wanted to flirt with her too.

She asked me out for coffee after three very long, blushy, meet-cute months of eyeing each other.

And here we were, a couple of years later, with her stuffing Thanksgiving fixings down my gullet until kingdom—or one of us—come.

I shook my head and crammed in one more bite, an extra-large scoop to finish off the plate. Dee had promised me a nap and I fully intended to take her up on that offer.

“Great job!” She perched on the side of the dining chair and lifted the plate from my hands, setting it on the table. She rubbed a knuckle against the lowest button on my blouse, which had miraculously remained white and stain-free so far. It rested perfectly on the crest of my stomach, round and firm with a padding of softness, snug against it but not quite straining.

Yet. If I knew Dee, and at this point, I was fairly certain I had a decent grasp on her, I may not even have that button by the end of the night.

But, right now, she had promised a break. And one thing I knew about her: she held true to her promises.

“Break time?”

The devilish grin she bore just minutes prior softened to genuine and pure, the same one that I swooned over so long ago. “Yes! Come on,” and she stood and pulled me to my feet with her. She wrapped one hand around my hips and slipped the other in her pocket, turning off the bullet inside me.

Dee gently deposited me on the couch, belly-up and nestled among more pillows than I thought it could reasonably hold. Still, they were a welcome comfort and I heaved a sigh, sinking into them.
Dee sat next to me on the couch, leaning over, gently rubbing my stuffed belly. We stayed like that for a few minutes, silent, with her hands sliding up and down my abdomen. If I didn’t already know that she had something more, a lot more, planned not just for tonight but for the next few months, I would have suggested we move on to other activities. And she was more than aware that the hearty food filling me, with the chance to relax and digest, would make my eyelids heavy.

Our silence wasn’t awkward, but thoughtful. Dee had been hands-off since our arrangement began just a few weeks prior. This didn’t bother or surprise me as our hookups were a "quality over quantity" kind of thing due to our busy lives and relationships. However, it was weird seeing her so much more often socially—I gave up the yoga months ago—without us getting naked or at least hot and bothered.

I thought back to the morning after our “deal” was struck. By some miracle, I’d returned home the night before and immediately crashed into bed after a much-needed shower. I awoke mid-morning only when an email alert sounded on my phone. The email, of course, was from Dee.

Subject: How this will all work…

Oh, Michaela, I’m so excited we’re going to be doing this! I must confess, it’s been on my mind for a long time. Rest assured your safety will always be tantamount so long as you do the one thing I ask of you. It’s very simple, it boils down to one simple rule: you eat what I offer you, when I ask you to. That’s really it!

I think you were a little too preoccupied last night so I didn’t want to go over all of the nitty-gritty in detail but that time will come.

Until then, have a good morning. Brunch is at the door :)

Cordially,
Dee

A shiver had run down my spine and other places when I first read that email, and it sparked every time I saw it again or thought about it.

I couldn’t deny that the thought was thrilling; it was. But it wasn’t until I opened the door that Sunday morning and saw the delivery bags in the hallway that it really sunk in that Dee was serious and this wasn’t just for play and kinky fun.

Even now, weeks later, we had not yet discussed the documents she’d faked. Part of me didn’t want to know the details. I had made some mistakes over my career early on and it would have been all too easy to find and exploit them. I didn’t want to test her, but I also wanted to know just how far this would go.

I was almost disappointed at first. I suppose years of reading kink and cramming as much fun as we could into our limited time together had set the expectations a bit higher than I should have anticipated. There was plenty of food and feeding, definitely more than I would have or should have eaten, but she seemed to hold back; at least, do things much differently than we had done them before.

Every couple of days she would put credits in my coffee rewards account right in the middle of my commute, often with a note like “Get yourself something nice—twice! -D,” then ask me an hour later how it was. She’d come over a few times to make my favorite dinners, filling me just up to my stopping point, with gentle rubs and tucking me into bed, before seeing herself out as I drifted off.

I was confused at first. This wasn’t like our normal dynamic; something much more overt and archetypical. Until I showed up for dinner tonight, saw the spread she had laid out, and realized just how duped I had been. She had been training me, conditioning and plying me with my favorites or distracting me when I didn’t have time to think about how much and of what I was eating.

And I loved it.

Dee’s rhythmic ministrations on my stomach and the replaying of the past few weeks in my mind warmed me from the inside out. Something was brewing deep below my very-full stomach.

My body had not changed much yet over the past few weeks; maybe a snugger shirt here and a little extra softness there, but I knew now that it would not last much longer. Changes were coming.

I fidgeted on the couch and turned my head away, but her chortle told me she had already seen the flush in my cheeks.

“Oh, don’t worry Michaela, there’s plenty more coming.” Either I had dozed off or simply didn’t notice the tart on the coffee table, but I didn’t even think twice when she brought a forkful up to my mouth and I accepted the whole bite.