His Latest Acquisition

Chapter One-2

On her feet, brit was shoved toward an office chair and pushed over the back, where her hands automatically went to the seat, bracing for the assault. Closing in behind her, her master unfastened the small buckle at her waist and carefully pulled the harness away from her groin. She felt the dildo slide slowly from her rectum, and then extracted more forcefully as Justin withdrew the long, wide shaft of cream-colored plastic. It had been several hours since she’d felt this much freedom in her nether channel and the relief was welcome. Yet, the feeling was short-lived, as a primed and ready Earl Heartsell encroached on the offered territory with his d**k ready.

As promised, his member was wide and of ample length to give the woman a considerable challenge. Thankfully, after six hours in the harness, her ass was also prepared for penetration. Relaxed and willing, it took Earl’s initial plunge, widening with little effort. It was the subsequent drilling of her behind that proved difficult, with the full girth of this impressive manhood taking her beyond her previous experience with anal s*x. A relaxing mantra repeated inside her mind….as he body let go, become limp and yielding. She did this well, as the feel of subspace would engulf her wholly, bringing contentment to take away the pain. However, today was different with the task of surrender more grueling. The opening was forced to expand beyond the limits it knew. His c**k demanded by its very force that her muscles yield. Pain stabbed her insides hard. She clenched and felt Justin’s hand twist through her hair. “Don’t resist,” he declared to her defiantly.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered as another ruthless moment of agony required her attention.

Earl’s erection inched its way deeper as if he were burrowing for a vein of hidden ore.

Her gentle shrieks were ignored, but the breathless gasp of pain that followed his sudden and swift lunge made her master seize her hair with an iron-tight grip and yank hard.

Her ouch! was barely audible and quickly forgiven when brit’s hips began to sway from the unexpected physical pleasure. The Dom assailed her hard with both hands gripping ass cheeks to steady his attack, while lunge after vigorous lunge enlivened his long dormant hunger.

Justin released his grip on brit’s hair and let her work the man to a climax, his grunts and lusty groans rose in the steamy air. Although every moment was edged with fear as brit anxiously wondered if her insides would be ripped to shreds, the results were not as grisly as her fearful imaginings. Her body was on fire, her insides wild, her debasement complete. This was a perfect submissive lust… and she could go on for more… but that was unnecessary.

Earl didn’t need but a few short minutes of this exuberant ride before he exploded, dispensing his seed into her dark regions and leaving her body gasping for air and her own end.

“Get up,” were the first words she heard after the satisfied Dom withdrew from her body. brit wasn’t ready—not yet. She took several deep breaths and relaxed, letting herself absorb the sudden changes. “Up, brit!” Justin ordered impatiently. This time she managed to right herself and remain steady on her feet. “Put your clothes on in my private bath.”

“Yes, sir.”

No more gaping eyes. No more shameful postures. No more hanging on in fear…she breathed again relieved as she gathered up her clothes and scooted to the bathroom.

By the time brit returned to Justin’s office his friends were gone and the telephone was ringing.

“Emily, yes, I’ll be home for dinner at nine…yes, I know it’s late, but it can’t be helped…I’ll see you then…” He turned to his secretary as he hung up the phone. “You think you need a reward for today’s exhibition?” he wondered aloud.

“No, sir. I did as I was told,” she respectfully replied.

He sat back in his chair jauntily appraising the attractive brunette, thinking… maneuvering, his schemes taking shape…they often whirled about his brain so fast that he could not keep up with the permutations his fertile mind manufactured. “And you enjoyed yourself?” he asked. Sometimes he didn’t care about her enjoyment. Today he did. He’d thought of giving her away more often…in more remote settings, to men he wouldn’t find as easy to control. He wanted to jerk her around with fear, let it take her places she worried over. This one thrived on fright and control…less on pain, more on limitations and restraint.

“Yes, sir, I did…in an odd way.”

“Odd?”

“I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle him.”

“But you did.”

“And that felt good. I know that pleases you.”

“Yes, it does,” he acknowledged. “Did you replace your harness?”

She hesitated, fingers fidgeting in front of her. “No, sir, not yet.”

“Then be sure it’s handled before you go back to work.”

“B-but I thought…since…”

“Since you were butt-f****d that it wouldn’t matter?”

“Yes.”

“It matters only that you follow my orders, and my orders were that the harness and the anal plug remain all day.”

“Yes, sir.” She tried to hide her discontent, though there was a faint grimace on her lips and a self-pitying look in her eye before she resumed her air of respectful compliance. Even that scant inconstancy in her expression was enough to register Justin’s disapproval.

“Don’t give me reason to punish you, brit,” he warned.

“No, sir, I won’t. I’ll put the harness on immediately.”

“See that it’s done.”

Wednesday Evening

Justin Booker’s large brick city house was one of dozens in an older neighborhood adjacent to the city center. Simple streets meandered across several hills in what might have at one time been a lovely country setting. Now, however, the upscale neighborhood butted up against middleclass housing developments, business streets, the city TV station and a local grade school. It was an island in the middle of a crazy sea—a world apart from those other jumbled up worlds. Time retreated and the world grew fuzzy around the borders. He could breathe with ease, and slow a harrowing pace where his thoughts grew discontentedly wild.

Justin came home to a dwelling that inspired his senses. Four fat columns across the front stood like watchmen guarding… though there was little to guard but the physical treasures in his house… the Oriental carpet, Emily’s collection of Danish figurines, porcelain vases from Hong Kong, silver, damask, a state-of-the-art entertainment center—his latest acquisition—and the Monet he gave his wife on their tenth anniversary. He sometimes imagined those stern looking sentinels guarding the true secrets… the ones behind the marriage, inside his head, tucked close to his heart and alive in his groin. He understood his life was false, that he lived daily with subterfuge and lies…but they were good lies, and his secrets the kind of secrets that made him feel alive.

Emily was home, in the workroom throwing pots, a tender smile on her dreamy face. Justin tiptoed into the foyer understanding where she was and what she was doing simply by the sound of the music coming from the back of the house…Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’. She was in a classical mood. He liked that. She was creating…that meant she would be horny by the time she finished work. If he was lucky, he could fling her over the back of a chair and screw her with all his pent-up zeal. If he was lucky—luck usually struck once a month and it must have been at least three weeks since the last time he demanded s*x this way.

He caught her working, her back to him, her body moving erotically with the music, hands pouring over the wet clay. He watched her muscles move inside her black sleeveless T-shirt. The diligence, the precision—how lovely a sight that was, enough to stir his aching shaft. He’d think of suspending her—arms stretched high and wide above her head, feet dangling, her back and shoulder muscles straining.

He shook off the image.

Pipe dreams.

Just pipe dreams.

She brushed back a stray lock of hair with her arm, keeping her fingers on the wheel. Her sandy red pageboy seemed to float as her head moved, the ends skimming her jaw-line and tickling the skin. Every now and again he caught a glimpse of a creamy cheek, the trace of her lips, a dark brow. He believed she was humming, her body keeping time to the notes tinkling off the CD.

He approached her stealthily, knowing how easy it would be to wring her neck with his hands, watch her gasp, and look up at him in fear and longing…

He shook off the image.

Impractical.

Self-defeating.

He needed a wife, not another slave, and she was a good wife.

She’d be miserable as a slave… too self-absorbed, too flighty and impractical. Thoughts of mastering her were impractical; he had to let them go.

No, he didn’t need a slave, he needed his wife.

“Emily,” he spoke softly so as not to shake her too hard.

She jerked anyway and turned around.

“Don’t you look beautiful?”

“You scared me. You’re early. I would have had dinner ready if I’d known you would be home so soon.”

“The appointment canceled.” That was the truth. The new girl in the Guild files looked appealing, but she was like too many others—out for quick thrills, a few scenes, no serious submission, certainly not real slavery. How did she ever get by the proctors? Justin wondered. They were supposed to oust the women with questionable characters. This one slipped by—he’d have to have a word with Simonson next time he saw the director of new properties.

“Cancelled appointment? That’s good for me,” she said smiling, “but bad for you, perhaps?”

He shook his head. “I’d rather be home tonight, and with you.”

“You would?”

He wanted her now… slightly sweaty, perspiration on her brow and lip, the mix of salty musk and perfume revving up the engines already primed for s*x.

“Yes, now.” He pulled her from the stool, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pushed down her shorts.

“I’m a mess, Justin.” She tried drawing back, but he was taking her anyway.

“I don’t care.”

This was rare and welcome… but a change of gears that required Emily to relinquish her current project… the clay fell back against itself into a pile of unusable mush… she let it go… let her hips glide into his, let her heart beat next to his, let her lips swim against his lips. Kisses, dozens of kisses and she was ready for more.

When he pulled away, she wiped her hands on a towel, tossed it aside and followed Justin to the porch. Lying back on the divan, he motioned her to his crotch where her hungry mouth and eager hands searched for the hardened muscle inside his pants, finally withdrawing the proud erection. Her tongue made circles around the head, ran down the shaft to lick the base. Smelling the aroma of desire, she sucked his scrotum drawing one testicle then the other into her mouth where they swam about before her mouth moved up his c**k to focus on the purple head and hardened stalk.

“Humm, yes, do that more,” he purred.

“Humm, yes,” she thoughtlessly replied, drawing him deep, far into her throat until he went no further. Drawing back, she rimmed the head, tasting skin, reacting to his pheromones and finding her body turning on itself for more. “From behind, Justin,” she prompted him.

Ah! He was in luck tonight.

This was his favorite position…this her gift to him. Then, too, she was randy now, acting like the slut, offering herself like one of his slaves.

He was ready fast, looming over her naked behind with his rod bobbing, the tip wet with pre-c*m and her saliva. Between her thighs, her p***y juices gathered at the door. Oh! To have the tighter hole! He thought of brit’s reckless behind waving for the unfamiliar c**k to take her ass. If that were only Emily.

But he’d settle now for the simpler f**k. He loved the look of his c**k inside the steamy portal, pounding, his strokes long, drawn out to the head so he could plunge back forcefully, moving her to the limit of her willingness. f*****g doggy-style was at the borders of her crudest lust. She’d recoil when it was done, turn shy, blush until her ears were red, then refuse to tell him how much this pleased her.

She was gone, her head thrashing back and forth in ecstasy. She’d c*m. Groaning, thoughtless, milking with a clenched cunt every bit of frothy seed he had to give her.

She was there and so was he… thinking of brit’s ass, transferring the look of one slut to the reality of the other. Emily wouldn’t stand for that kind of talk, but there was nothing to keep him from thinking whatever he damned well pleased.