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Saturday, July 31, 2004

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THE TRAINING OF JEANNIE AND CLAIR
by Zebulon

This is a work of fiction. No reference to real persons is
intended. It contains strong, non-traditional sexual imagery
and language. If you don't like this kind of thing, don't read
it.

This story may be reposted anywhere as long as (1) proper
credit is given, (2) I am informed of where it is being
posted, and (3) I am allowed free access to the web site
where it is being posted.

Feedback is welcome. zebulonfastmail.ca

(MF, FF, Bond)

Start of Part 10

In the bathroom, Mistress Jeannie glanced over at the
mirror behind which she now knew lay a hidden camera.
She smiled and playfully stuck out her tongue. Then she
went over to the bath and started the water running--not too
hot this time. Clair, who had been moving slowly, walked
in just then.

Without saying anything, Mistress Jeannie moved over
to the medicine cabinet and removed some fragrant oils.
Then she went back to the tub and added them like a chef
working on a special recipe. Clair stood in the middle of the
room and waited.

When the water temperature and the mixture of the oils
was satisfactory and the tub had filled. Mistress Jeannie
turned off the tap and bid Clair enter. Clair walked carefully
over and then stepped gingerly into the tub. She had been
prepared for extremely hot water and wondered if it would
be painful on her rear, but her mistress had adjusted the
water wonderfully and she felt no pain at all--only a definite
soreness.

Suddenly Clair was aware that her Mistress was
removing her dominatrix outfit. As she did so, Clair was
surprised to realize that her feelings toward her Mistress
were in a profound state of turmoil. Mostly she was
grateful but she was also feeling a deep and genuine feeling
of love. She tried to conjure up feelings of anger at being
punished or for the treatment she'd received over the past
weeks. But nothing came but gratitude and love. All she
did manage to stir up was a vague sense of guilt at her
escape attempt and the fact that she had lied to and betrayed
her Mistress. She was suddenly keenly aware that her
Mistress had been embarrassed in front of Master Rex and
that it had been her fault. She wanted to tell herself that line
of thinking was just plain stupid. But again, all that she was
able to feel was the gratitude, love, and now guilt. And
watching her Mistress as she was removing the last of her
clothes she also realized that she felt a definite sexual
attraction toward this powerful and commanding woman.

Clair was not surprised when her naked Mistress walked
over toward her. She wasn't surprised when she removed
Clair's collar and tossed it aside. But she was surprised
when her Mistress joined her in the tub. "Scoot down," she
had said. And when Clair had moved closer to the tap, her
Mistress had sat in behind her, her legs wrapping around
Clair's sides, her feet resting in Clair's lap.

Clair looked down at those feet and felt a sudden urge to
massage them lovingly. She was very aware of the feel of
her Mistress's crotch against the base of her back. Below
that she didn't feel much of anything. But her Mistress
hadn't bidden her do anything, so Clair carefully sat doing
nothing and waiting for her Mistress's pleasure.

Mistress Jeannie was soaping a wash cloth. And as she
begin gently washing Clair's back she said, "We've really got
to talk."

Clair allowed herself to luxuriate at her Mistress's touch,
but paid careful attention to her words as well.

"I'm going to explain some things to you about our
situation. And you'll notice I said, 'our' situation--not just
yours. This may be the only time I ever talk with you like
this, so I hope you're paying strict attention."

She was--but her Mistress had made a statement, not
asked a question. And anyway, she hadn't paused to wait
for a response so none seemed to be expected.

"When we got yanked into this situation neither of us
had very much to say about it, do you remember?"

This time there was a pause, and Clair nodded. Her
Mistress had started soaping her shoulders and neck.

"And almost immediately the Master demonstrated his
power over us and the seriousness of his intent, didn't he?"

Another pause. Clair thought of poor Brenda and
nodded again. Her Mistress had moved the cloth to one of
her arm pits, so Clair raised her arm a bit and the washing
continued.

"I didn't pick my role, nor did I assign you yours. That
was all decided by the Master, who demanded complete
obedience and no questions." She switched arms and Clair
responded.

"Since then, I've learned a great deal about the situation
behind our situation." She paused for a long while as if
considering how much she wanted to say. She finished the
armpit and gave Clair's back one last swabbing.

"Turn, please." Clair got up on her knees and then
carefully turned in the tub so that she was facing her
Mistress and then sat back down with her knees up in front
of her. Her Mistress put down the cloth and reaching
forward, pulled Clair's feet into her lap. Then she picked up
the cloth again, resoaped it, and begin washing one of the
feet. Clair was intensely aware of the feel of her Mistress's
hands on her foot and the feel of her Mistress's pubic hair on
the sole of the other foot as it rested in her lap.

"Master Rex works for an organization called, the Mart.
It's a white slavery ring." This news didn't surprise Clair.
The way they had been abducted, the whole facility
smacked of lots of money and more than a simple lone mad
man.

"We were a special order from a very rich owner. He
wanted a tall redheaded slave and a shorter brunette
Mistress." This was news to Clair, but it certainly explained
a lot. Her Mistress was washing between her toes using
soapy fingers and it was, in some ways, one of the most
erotic moments in Clair's life. The whole situation and the
feel of her Mistress's hands between her toes.

"I suppose we should be honored that Master Rex, who
is certainly an expert at what he does, chose us out of
millions of other girls." It was a measure of Clair's
psychological state that she found herself agreeing with this
statement. Her Mistress switched feet.

"If we complete our training to his satisfaction--and I
think we are getting very close to that point--we will be
taken to our new owner where we will live to serve him or
her." She paused significantly while continuing to wash. "If
we don't complete our training to his satisfaction . . ."
another long pause. "What do you suppose will happen to
us--most certainly to you, and very likely to both of us?"
She had finished with the other foot and let it down so that
both feet were resting in her lap.

For a long, long while neither girl spoke. Mistress
Jeannie was sitting back in the tub, her hands gently
massaging the soles of Clair's feet. Clair was looking
directly into her Mistress's eyes as the truth dawned on her
with full force. "Brenda?" she finally replied in a small
voice.

"Brenda," her Mistress repeated with authority.

Mistress Jeannie sat up and taking Clair's feet spread
them wide so that she could slide between them toward the
now shaken redhead. She moved her own legs over Clair's
and brought herself close enough to wash her torso.
Resoaping the cloth, she begin washing Clair's neck and
shoulders from the front.

"Let's assume you had gotten away. Then what?" The
question evoked a terrible sense of guilt in Clair. Her
Mistress sensed her unease.

"No, no, don't freeze up on me, think the question
through and answer honestly. What would you have done?"
She begin soaping Clair's left breast. Clair's arms were
hanging at her sides. Her hands, which had been resting on
her Mistress's legs, now gripped them gently as she
answered.

"I suppose I would have made my way toward the gas
station which the mechanic mentioned was out there."

"Even supposing there was such a station, which I
somehow doubt, that's not the intent of my question." She
was still soaping Clair's left breast, rubbing it not, erotically,
but soothingly. The nipples of both girls were fully erect.
"Let's assume you got away, got to the authorities, reported
everything. Maybe the police get here in time to arrest the
Master and rescue Susan and I." A thoughtful pause,
"Maybe not." Another pause. "Then what happens." She
changed breasts. "Think it through."

"I'd go back to my life the way it was." She stopped to
think about the other implications. "I suppose I might have
to go to court to testify."

"And the Mart, organization behind the Master, will just
sit quietly by and let you testify?" Mistress Jeannie was
pleased to see the sudden look of shock which overtook
Clair's features. Clair's grip had tightened on her legs. She
stopped washing her tits for a moment and waited. After a
long while she said, "Well?

Clair's mind had been racing to come up with an answer.
"Witness protection?" she asked meekly and without much
confidence?

Her Mistress smiled and starting washing her arm pits
again, this time from the front. "This isn't the drug trade or
the Mafia. Most people don't even know it exists. You
would tell your story and the police would tell you not to
believe everything you hear from a kidnapper and rapist.
They would tell you not to worry your pretty little head.
They would tell you they had things well in hand." She
paused again. "And then what would happen." She leaned
back and started resoaping the cloth while waiting for a
reply.

Clair's face went pale. Her hands lost their strength and
dropped into her lap. She looked down for a long time.

Mistress Jeannie just kept soaping the cloth and waiting.

"They'd catch me again," she finally said looking up,
"wouldn't they?"

"Either that or kill you," her Mistress replied. Then she
leaned forward and began washing her sides and belly.

"But what if I didn't say anything to anyone?"

"Then it would make it that much easier to catch you
again, wouldn't it?"

"But what if I ran away, changed my name, hid?"

"You don't think they'd find you?"

Mistress reached down and begin washing Clair's crotch
under the water. It was clear the girl's spirit was broken.

"There is no out," her Mistress said, "for either of us.
We have been recruited into a new life and must simply
make the best of it." She was rubbing all the crevices of
Clair's pussy with a finger wrapped in the soapy wash cloth.
"For my part I am going to be the very best Mistress I can
possibly become." The moving finger paused for effect.
And looking directly into Clair's eyes she said, "And if you
cooperate with me as fully as I know you can, you will
always be my favorite slave. Would you like that."

Clair hesitated hardly at all, "Oh yes, Mistress. I'd like
that very much. And I'm very sorry I tried to run away.
And I'm very sorry if I embarrassed you in front of Master
Rex. I'll never do that again. And I'll try to listen really well
and learn really well and always please you and always make
you proud of me . . ."

The girl was almost babbling now. And Mistress Jeannie
smiled as she let her run down. There were tears in Clair's
eyes and her nose had started running. She seemed
completely overcome with emotion. It was as if a damn had
finally broken and there was some kind of relief in knowing
that she didn't have to make any decisions ever again. All
she had to do was to serve.

Mistress Jeannie reached over with the wash cloth and
delicately mopped her face. Then she rang out the cloth and
held it against Clair's nose, "Blow." Clair blew, almost
giggling with the release of tension.

Mistress Jeannie tossed the wash cloth out of the tub and
grabbing a fresh dry one mopped Clair's face again. She
said, "I know you will dear. I know that I'll always be
proud of you." Then dropping the wash cloth into the tub
she held out her arms and Clair gladly fell forward to hug
her. She clung to her Mistress for a long while.

Then, suddenly Clair sat up and said, "Please Mistress,
let me wash you now." And smiling, her Mistress picked up
the soap and wash cloth and handed them over.

After she had done a thorough and highly erotic job of
washing her Mistress, Clair dried them both and waited for
further instructions.

Her Mistress took her hand and led her into the
bedroom. "Tonight," she said "and tonight only, we will
forget about the collar. You wish to serve me? Come show
me how you plan to care for your Mistress."

The only light in the bedroom was that which was
streaming in through the bathroom door. Clair, almost
electrified by her Mistress's words, leaned over and gave her
a long, deep kiss. Their tongues entwined and their hearts
raced. They sex which they had with each other up till then
was mostly technique. Highly arousing but almost
impersonal.

Suddenly they were in love. Clair felt something akin to
the unquestioning love of a small child for its parent.
Mistress Jeannie felt something more like the deep affection
a long time pet owner feels for its favorite animal. Neither
of these descriptions was exactly accurate, but both were
close enough to the mark.

After a long, long while, with arms entwined and mouths
pressed together, Clair stood up. And leaning forward lifted
her Mistress. She carried the smaller girl to the bed. She
laid her down and, climbing in, positioned her Mistress in
the center.

On her hands and knees she worked her way around her
Mistress's body. She kissed her on the ear, nibbling on the
lobe with her teeth and gently digging with her tongue.

She drank in the wonderfully erotic smell of her
Mistress's hair.

She kissed the smaller girl's face, her forehead, her eyes,
her nose, her cheeks, her chin, and a long, deep, luxurious
kiss on the mouth with her tongue striving to explore every
inch of that sweet cavern.

She moved across her Mistress's body to kiss her other
ear and thrilled and the feel of their nipples caressing each
other as they passed. She kissed her ear and moved as she
did so to let her nipple play tantalizingly on the other girls
breast.

She kissed her way down her Mistress's neck across her
upper breasts and then lovingly sucked on first one and then
the other nipple. As she did so, she gently scratched the
undersides of her breasts with loving care. She loved the
feel of her Mistress's nipples on her lips, and pulled them up
so that they would achieve their maximum inflation. She
played her tongue around each areola so that they both
crinkled and tightened with lust.

Mistress Jeannie could never remember feeling such
genuine and absolute desire. It throbbed and coursed
through her loins like a surging wave. She could never
remember being so wet before. Not with any of her
previous lovers, not with all the fancy tricks she had
learned, not even with Master Rex when they had made love
that first candle-lit night. Clair was hers. She was her slave.
Her love slave. And Clair loved her with all her heart. She
was sure of that now. The knowledge made her toes tingle
as Clair worked her mouth across the bottom of her breasts
and toward her pussy.

Clair positioned herself belly down between her
Mistress's thighs. She breathed passionately on her
Mistress's already hot, wet cunt. She reached up with her
arms and massaged both breasts. She found herself using
many of the techniques which she had learned. But before,
she had used them consciously to achieve predetermined
goals. Now she found herself using them almost
unconsciously as part of a natural process of trying to please
her lover.

She could almost feel her Mistress's reactions and
adjusted her movements to intensify her pleasure.

Mistress Jeannie's breathing was now almost entirely
determined by Clair's touch. She breathed deeply and
heavily, then rapidly and lightly. She would suddenly hold
her breath for a long moment and then just as suddenly pant
for air.

When Clair finally pressed her mouth into the
wondrously fragrant pussy under her, Mistress Jeannie
almost went crazy in response. Clair was intoxicated with
her Mistress's love and with her reactions to her love
making. The smell of warm musk was suddenly and
wonderfully erotic.

She licked her tongue around in the warm, wet valley.
She flicked it across the clit from first one and then another
direction. She pulled a whole section of warm pulsating
flesh into her mouth and sucked while letting her tongue
play among the folds. She was particularly pleased to hear
her Mistress gasp at that.

Clair made a little 'O' of her mouth and sucked in her
Mistress's clit. Then widening her mouth pressed all the
pussy flesh away from the little love button so that the lay
quivering in a sea of taught flesh. Then she started swiping
at it with her tongue like a miniature punching bag. First up
and down, then side to side. She varied the motion and
swept all around the bud of flesh to caress it from all sides.

She brought an arm down and reaching up from
underneath felt her Mistress's love canal. It was a river of
moisture. She stuck a couple of fingers into that wonderful
passage until her Mistress was groaning uncontrollably and
her fingers were drenched. Then she pulled her other hand
down to replace the first and using the already wet fingers
inserted it into her Mistress's anus. The little hole seemed to
almost open up in welcome as the well lubricated digit
slipped into the ring of flesh and then moved upward.

Sensing the approaching climax, Clair increased the
speed of her movements, both sets of fingers and her
furiously licking tongue. When suddenly she felt her
Mistress's hands grasp two fist fulls of her hair, her whole
body seemed to tense, and then with great wracking sobs
she came.

And came.

And came.

With artful guile and great love, Clair kept varying the
techniques so that the rhythmic spasms wouldn't dampen
out completely. She never let the sensations become
unbearable or uncomfortable. She read her Mistress's body
like the fabulous machine it was, and kept the orgasm
rolling like a magnificent undulating wave until it finally
engulfed her completely.

Then she lay there, embracing her Mistress, expecting
nothing in return.

Only once did her Mistress turn her head and looking
into her face, smile. She whispered, "Thank you, dear," and
then just drifted off to sleep.

After considerable thought, Clair let herself carefully out
of bed and into the bathroom where she washed herself
down a bit so that she would be fresh for her Mistress in the
morning. She retrieved her neck collar and put it on. She
tip-toed back into the big room and retrieved her Mistress's
crop and her own leash. She returned quietly to the
bedroom and lay the crop on the bedside table where her
Mistress would find it in the morning. She attached her
own leash and tied the handle to the table drawer, next to
the crop. Then she curled up on the thick rug at the side of
the bed and went to sleep. She thought about climbing into
bed next to her Mistress, but she wished to show her
genuine subservience. And she didn't want to risk
disturbing her Mistress's sleep.

End of Part 10

THE TRAINING OF JEANNIE AND CLAIR
by Zebulon

This story may be reposted anywhere as long as (1) proper
credit is given, (2) I am informed of where it is being
posted, and (3) I am allowed free access to the web site
where it is being posted.

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Thursday, July 29, 2004

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Monday, July 26, 2004

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MRS. ARROGANT TAMED 2 - 5



A Story by Lara V Cataluna

(NC, MC, humiliation)



Disclaimer : Read No Further If You Are Under The Age Of 18 Or If You
Are Offended By Graphic Descriptions Of Sexual Activity. All Characters,
Situations, And Locations Are Purely Fictional.

I love to hear from readers. Please let me know what you think. Thank
you...

Not having posted in a long time, I can use the advice :)



A week later, Rudy was seated in the comfy leather chair. Alicia was
standing behind him, massaging his shoulders while Lara was on knees,
giving him his mid-morning blow-job. The younger girl still seemed to be
humiliated at having to do this while her big sister watched standing
behind Rudy.

Rudy was hell-bent on being a fair Master:

"Lara, did you know your big sis was too much of a prude to orally
pleasure anyone before I convinced her otherwise?". Lara knew Alicia was
always too proud, too self-assured to suck off any boy. She'd always
wondered if she did it at least for James. Was Lara glad now that Alicia
couldn't look down upon the little sister for pandering shamelessly to the
boys?

"But, boy, is she a fast learner! You can suck like a vacuum now, can't
you big sis?"

"Yes, Master" the young wife replied in disgrace, continuing to massage
him.

"Not just that; you can dance like a total tease, too! Slave, go get
into your Britney costume..."

The two girls usually wore the same exact clothes. A short trip to
Dream Dresser had ensured that both girls had a large, identical collection
of highly provocative outfits. They now wore the same exact outfit as each
other always. That's how Rudy liked it: This way, neither had any
character, just a couple of harem-girls ready to serve in a moment's
notice.

Alicia came back in her frilly catholic school-girl uniform. In a few
minutes, the music stared blasting in the room:

"Oops! I did it again!!..."

Rudy watched with great satisfaction the young wife who was dancing to
the tune of Britney Spears' song, with the same exact moves, just as she'd
practiced endlessly..

Lara couldn't watch, since all she could see was the thick bottom of
Rudy's cock and his crotch. She was being tested to see whether she could
make it last as long as her sister had been trained to - which meant the
sweating Alicia could go through another four, five Britney songs easy
before Rudy would reach satisfaction.

She was halfway through the album when Rudy finally flooded Lara's
mouth.

He checked his watch; time to go. He had a few errands to run. It was
close to noon and Georgey would come soon to get his treat anyway - the
girls hated it.

Rudy first stopped at a near-by bank branch, where he had paid upfront
for a 15-year safety deposit box. Certain things had to be kept in secret.
Like a number of pictures he'd taken as well as the two tapes: "Alicia's
confessions" and the home-made version of "Raunchy Sluts". He'd made the
girls watch the tape several times. The way they squirmed was most
amusing.

But he'd kept the only copy for himself: He had to guard against the
possibility, however remote, that one of his friends who wowed to silence
might spill his guts in a drunken fit. As is, it would mean nothing. Guys
always had highly implausible stories to tell, especially involving
"untouchables" like Alicia and Lara. He himself had claimed to get
blow-jobs from the hot girls in his building back in high-school -
naturally, nobody had believed a word of it. Ironically, now that the
story had become true, he was intent on keeping the evidence top secret.

Rudy was meeting Monique, for lunch. She'd insisted that they meet. He
had no idea why. Once he was seated at the table, the part-time dominatrix
got to the point at once:

"They are rich; and they are high-society..."

"Who?"

"Stop playing with me. You know who. The sisters you seem to have in
your complete control."

"So?"

"I'm guessing you're blackmailing them..."

Rudy pondered briefly. It was close enough...

"Is there a point in this? Are you with the FBI now?"

"Don't get smart with me. Imagine, if you will, this getting around.
That you blackmailed them. It would be a mini-scandal, maybe not so mini.
And the police would be interested."

"And whoever would believe this crazy story?"

"Well, for one thing, people hearing about it would do enough harm.
Secondly, I have two credit card receipts, charged to their credit cards,
indicating large purchases of highly unconventional items. I have
surveillance tapes of Dream Dresser, showing you buying things like dildos,
handcuffs, whips and what not, together with the girls. How would you
explain it? Particularly, to the bigger one's hubby?"

Rudy pondered this briefly. He had a syringe at home, which could solve
this problem at once. Though, before he could reply, two heavy-built men
appeared at the table, taking seats without asking. They looked like they
could have jumped right out of Goodfellas.

"And" Monique continued, "My clientele includes all kinds of powerful
people. They have a way of solving business problems for me..."

One of the men, parted his jacket ever so slightly, enough to give the
glimpse of a gun. He was not quite as subtle as Monique.

"What do you want?" Rudy asked, apparently resigned to the situation at
hand.

"Simple. I've always had girls to play with. But what I really want is
a girl who doesn't wanna play".

"So..."

"I want Lara. The younger one. No husband, no problem".

"You can't just have her. She's got Law school. Even I'm letting them
go soon."

"She can take a leave of absence. I won't keep her forever."

"How long then?"

"3 months. I bore quickly. In all likelihood, I'll be loaning her to
friends and clients by the end of that period - once I have had the
pleasure of breaking her into an obedient cunt-licking plaything."

"And then we'll be square?"

"My word is my honor, honey..."

Rudy pondered briefly. Lara surely needed a break anyway after that
gruesome first year of law school.

"Done!"

Monique smiled evilly: "Well, then, let's order. Shall we?..."



The Mercedes convertible sped on New Jersey Turn-Pike. With the top
opened, the warm summer breeze was flowing into their faces. Rudy had
found his favorite Rock station on the radio. Alicia was seated next to
him. Lara had just started a three-month stint as a paralegal at a law
firm previously unheard of. She'd been necessarily re-conditioned. James
would be coming back soon, which meant Alicia would need proper
re-conditioning, as well. But now he was taking his pet to the beach. He
had not told her the real purpose of this trip, deliberately.

The traffic was not busy, except for the first two lanes reserved for
trucks. Truck after truck seemed to be lined up, moving at the speed of a
4th of July parade. As Rudy reduced speed and moved to the lane adjacent
to the eighteen-wheelers, he could see some of the truckers were already
eyeing the hot blonde next to him. She was quite eye-catching with her
long hair flying in the wind and her two firm globes defiantly pressed into
the confines of a tiny blouse. He loved to make her dress in the most
eye-catching fashion. As she tried to ignore the dirty looks from
truckers, it was obvious Alicia wasn't used to driving next to so many
dust-spewing trucks. When Alicia went to beach, she was usually on a
plane, heading for an exotic location, not New Jersey.

"You loved it when they gang-banged Lara..." Rudy asked out of the blue.

Alicia didn't reply.

"You did, didn't you?".

She was obviously struggling to answer.

"Be honest".

"Yes, Master".

"And did you imagine yourself in her place, having your brains fucked by
a mob of men?".

"Yiy ye Yess, Master" she said her voice crackling in shame. It had
been one of her "confessions", too - frightening and mesmerizing at the
same time.

"Isn't that blouse too tight for you?" he inquired.

"Yes, Master".

"Well then, take it off." Rudy ordered. Alicia's face grew red
immediately. Despite everything he had put her through, the young woman
was still every bit susceptible to humiliation - she had enough pride to
last a life-time of humiliations. Alas, she wasn't quite as feisty as she
used to be either: Mute, she did as she was told, wisely refraining from
any protest.

"Throw it out".

The little piece of clothing flew out of the vehicle. Alicia was left
naked above the waist on the highway. The truckers immediately started
honking as the sexy blonde with bared jugs drove past them. Rudy slowed
down to a cruising speed to make sure everyone got a good look. He was
sure his little slave was driving the poor truckers nuts; most of them must
have been on the roads for days. He chuckled at the spectacle of little
prim Mrs. Dewey exhibiting her tits to rednecks on wheels on the Jersey
Pike. If anyone remotely familiar witnessed this scandalous sight, there
would be a small explosion in certain circles back in Manhattan. They had
to hope none of Alicia's high-society friends would drive past them at this
very moment.

"Lean out, slave. Shake those titties at the men!!" he instructed.

The drivers kept honking and howling, their weary unshaven faces lit up
with lechery. He decided to spice up the show:

"All right, slut, sit back here... Unbutton those jeans. That's good.
Now start playing with yourself. Rub your pussy... Start pinching those
tits, you still got one hand free... That's a good slave." Rudy waved at
the passing eighteen-wheelers one by one, showing off his slave-girl...
"Don't look at the dashboard, look at the truckers. Lick your lips...
Smile for crying out loud. Look how much they are loving it. Make sure
everyone's getting a good look..." The drivers were blowing the horns and
bawling like mad-men. "Maybe we'll pull into the nearest truck-stop, and
I'll let them gang-bang you!". Alicia's eyes lit up in fear like she'd
rather be skinned alive. "Damn, what a slut you are..." he mocked.



Alicia examined the tiny bikini with disbelief. It was the most
shameless, skimpiest excuse for a bikini she'd ever seen. The material of
the bikini was nothing more than a metallic mesh that barely pretended to
obstruct view. The top portion of the bikini consisted of two alarmingly
inadequate triangles that did more to showcase her firm breasts than offer
any pretense of decency. The thong bottom left her perfectly shaped ass
completely naked. Alicia - the independent Alicia - wouldn't be caught
dead in a thong, parading around like this. The slave Alicia, however,
stepped out and joined Rudy, heading for the sandy beach.

As they made their way to the beach, Alicia could feel the eye tracks
all over her body, even the occasional whistles and catcalls. It was a
rough crowd. She hated public beaches. This one was particularly low-end.
Everywhere she looked she saw ordinary, ugly people; slum-dwellers and
dregs, mostly a rabble of rowdy young men definitely from the wrong side of
the tracks.

Rudy seemed rather amused with the attention she was getting. Once they
were positioned on a pair of towels, Rudy had his slave spread sun lotion
on him. Alicia's own body already had a fine tan - and for the moment a
growing concern was the metallic material of her bikini which was heating
rapidly in the sun, making it very itchy and uncomfortable. She couldn't
figure out if it was on purpose but the material was tickling her entire
body, making her wanna peel the itchy mesh right off.

Rudy watched in amusement as she squirmed in her skin-tight jail for a
while.

"What do you think of these people?" inquired Rudy pointing towards a
group of men gathered around the ice-cream truck.

"They look like savages, Master."

"Yeah?".

"Yes, Master".

Rudy knew it was time for a final attitude adjustment in Alicia, wipe
out her superiority complex: He leaned into her ear, and gave her new
instructions. He had to repeat himself a couple of times, and use an
unusual amount of threatening words to ensure her cooperation. But, she'd
mellowed quite a bit since he had first injected her, and besides, the
consequences of disobedience was just so terrible...

Alicia got on her feet and started walking towards the ice-cream truck
parked at the edge of the beach. The sand was hot, causing her to hop as
she walked, putting a marked jiggle into her breasts. She could feel the
blatant stares all over her virtually naked body.

She got herself a big scoop of big vanilla ice-cream, and began licking
it with obvious ceremony. Her tongue swirled around the white gooey stuff,
making an obvious spectacle of it, dripping some of the ice-cream onto her
firm tits - the crowd of men hanging nearby apparently loved it, judging
from the growing heckling. By the time she finished her ice-cream, she had
an attentive audience.

The teenager selling the ice-cream had a boombox placed on the side of
the truck. Alicia bent over, sending a dazzling smile to the poor teen,
and turned up the volume to the max. She playfully smiled at the herd of
men gathering around the van as her body started gyrating instantly. A
wave of applause, whistles and cat-calls broke out. She was twisting and
shaking, pulling her hair up from behind, sending kisses to the group of
men who were growing more and more rowdy. Her dancing was awkward and
unrhythmic, but it hardly mattered: She was about to provoke a riot. She
was dying in shame, but to the men watching, it seemed she was shamelessly
egging them on like a bitch in heat. And then, with immense dread within,
she walked over to the back of the truck and pulled the doors wide open,
screaming "Gang Bang!!".

The teenager who owned the truck didn't object - he was the first one to
jump in, with others quickly queuing up behind him. Alicia's excuse for a
bikini was quickly ripped off her body. The howlings of the crowd sounded
like battle cries. Rudy watched the small uproar from afar, with measured
amusement. He believed in sharing good fortune. Little Mrs. Dewey,
rather than thumbing her nose at everyone, was about to learn what it feels
like to be everyone's whore.

As cock after cock was shoved into Alicia's face and slammed into her,
Rudy opened a bottle of Sam Adams and pulled down his shades - he had to
catch up with his tan. He made a mental note to send Alicia to a
whore-doctor for a thorough check-up after today. He imagined her waiting
her turn along with a room full of whores. Besides, James was coming back
soon.

When Alicia emerged barely covered in a towel a couple hours later, it
was almost sun down. Cumm was dripping from every abused orifice on the
thoroughly-used body of the young beautiful wife from Manhattan
aristocracy. She was in semi-shock, having fucked and sucked an endless
army of men. Her face glistened with shiny smears of cumm. There were
slight bruises on her creamy body. Stripped of her glory, Alicia Dewey
looked like a mess; a sex-doll used up to the limit rather than a glamorous
shot on the high-society pages. She had been taken in every way
imaginable, and without break. They'd stopped only after she was too
beaten and semen-soaked to be appealing.



It had been a few days since George had seen Rudy take Alicia to the
beach.

He was sitting in the mail-room, trying to sneak a peek into a
resident's subscription of Penthouse - an apt perk for a doorman - when
Alicia walked in. She always showed up around noon for his treat. At
first he'd enjoyed humiliating Alicia, who had always been such a pain in
the ass. Now he was in it for the pleasure, just the remarkable pleasure -
yet the young woman remained humiliated every time she had to service him.

Today, though, she had a particular radiance to her. "Hello, Georgey"
she said in a pleasant, pandering voice. It seemed a lot of thought had
gone into her make-up and clothing. She laid her hands on the man's knees,
pushing his legs apart gently. She then kneeled on the floor in front of
George.

"Georgey" she said almost nervously, "Rudy told me that if I be a good
girl and do this for you every day, you'll agree to keep silent about
everything". James was due back soon.

"Yes".

"Oh, I'll be a good girl from now on" she said, leaving George somewhat
puzzled about whether she really meant it or was being forced to.

Alicia had unzipped him and was sucking his cock diligently in the next
moment. She looked up at the doorman occasionally, making sure he was
pleased with her performance. And she'd make it last a good fifteen
minutes before George ejaculated. George had to remain silent. From now
on, she promised to herself, an incredible amount of preparation and effort
would go into Georgey's daily blow-job...



Rudy had cut off his visits to Alicia on the day James came back,
removing all his previous instructions, except for a few new ones: She was
to secretly continue giving George one blow-job a day. She was to treat
Rudy as her Master whenever he referred to her as "my slave" - Rudy was
going back to school but Princeton wasn't all that far for frequent visits.

But most of his instructions had involved James. The poor guy would go
on with his business not knowing that his wife regularly sucked the
doorman, or that there was a band of Rudy's friends who'd fucked his wife -
and her sister - or that there was even a larger group of men in New
Jersey, or wherever, who knew all about his wife's charms. Not to mention
a dominatrix who'd taught her all kinds of new things... Rudy felt he had
to make it up to James, the nice guy that he was.



James Dewey strained to open his eyes and awaken, but gave up, still in
the midst of a most pleasant dream. Perhaps, it was the satisfactory
outcome the previous night's events that made him feel so aloof in the
morning.

He'd arrived from his long business trip the night before, carrying the
fatigue of a ruthless schedule that took him from London to Zurich to
Kuwait to Beijing. It had been worth it: The company he'd inherited from
his father was now ready to go through a major expansion, all but
guaranteed to triple its sales volume over the next couple of years.
Commies had a lot of money to spend these days.

This, however, turned out to be only one of his rewards: Alicia had
surprised him by meeting him at the airport. She was at her absolute best,
and not just in the way she looked - she was always gorgeous anyway. She
was more pleasant than he could ever remember his wife being. More
shockingly, he found a delicious sampler of French Cuisine at home, which
Alicia endlessly professed to have prepared all by herself. Normally,
she'd never come close to handling such menial tasks. Even the cook and
the maid were sent home, which meant Alicia assumed the serving duties -
evidently she took great satisfaction from this, too. It wasn't until
James had his Creme Brule that Alicia had decided to showcase the real
desert: She'd walked into the living-room in stockings and lingerie that
were far too sluttish for her standards, however much to James's liking.
And she positively had a look on her face that said to her husband "fuck me
rough". James had expected a little pampering from his young wife, but the
amount of thought and preparation that went into this welcome act was
beyond his imagination.

But that was when James had to ruin a perfect moment: He just couldn't
touch her without first coming clean. He had been offered a couple of
high-priced hookers in China, an offer he'd proven too weak to resist. And
given the way Alicia had used sex as a lever of control in their young
marriage, he wasn't sure he was supposed to feel guilty. But he did
anyway.

Alicia sat next to him on the leather sofa, with a sign of gloom on her
pretty face only briefly, which all but turned into guilt and
understanding.

"James, I know this is my fault" she said almost apologizing. "I
haven't been as passionate and attentive as I should have been".

James didn't really know how to respond to this.

"You know I love you, don't you?" she asked, and James saw in his wife's
eyes endless, genuine love. "I love you, too" he managed to reply
awkwardly.

"And I'll do anything for you." she continued. Knowing Alicia, James
would need a lot of convincing on that but things were turning quite
extraordinary.

She climbed on top of him, with that "fuck me" smile again on her face.
"Besides, boy will be boys! What's a little escapade every now and then?"

James was convinced his wife had fallen prey to alien body-snatchers but
couldn't contemplate this for long: She was already undoing his shirt.

And then they had made love like animals - twice. Not a bad way to be
greeted after a long trip...

James managed to open his eyes finally, pulling himself away from the
pleasant dream. But that wonderful feeling that consumed his mind was
still on. Then he realized there was something on him. On his crotch! He
noticed a blonde batch of hair on his crotch. It was Alicia's head bobbing
up and down - and his body and mind connected: She was giving him a
blow-job!

Alicia raised her head, gave him a smile, then went right back to
sucking his cock, as if she was distressed to have to break away from such
an important task even for a moment. But that glimpse was enough to reveal
she already had her make-up on and her hair made. James could hardly
believe it: His wife, who had always rejected oral sex as too demeaning and
servile, was now waking him up with one? But, boy, did it feel good! She
was obviously putting an impressive amount of effort into it: She was
vacuuming like pro while her tongue danced across every vain, teasing the
most sensitive areas ever so deliciously. James soon exploded in pure
satisfaction.

After his wife finished swallowing enthusiastically, she finally stood
up, dressed in yet another lingerie set worn to tease and please. "Good
morning honey" she said with a bright smile, before rushing to the kitchen
and returning with a tray: James's breakfast. She turned CNBC on for him
and dropped the remote on the bed. James usually took his time watching
the financial news in the morning.

"Honey, I'll go do my aerobics while you watch the news, OK?"

"Sure" James managed to say in amazement.

By the time Alicia came back and took her shower, James was already in
his suit - the suit his wife had picked for him and neatly hanged on the
door, along with the matching tie. He felt more relaxed, more aloof, more
powerful than he could ever remember.

Alicia kissed him in her robe, more sensuously than he could ever
remember. "Oh, look I'm getting you all wet" she said playfully.

James pulled on the cord of her robe, exposing her body. His wife was
just plain gorgeous.

"Perhaps" he said in a meaningful tone, "I can afford to be a little
late this morning..."

"Your wish is my command, Sir" she replied in her kinkiest smile,
letting her robe drop to the floor.

A man could get used to this...

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