by Denise Avery
“Well, if that’s the case,” Savannah said, pulling her pants back up her legs, “Then you’ve done good, kid.”
The faint sound of keys in the front door lock startled the girls. With one panicked look at each other, they threw on various articles of clothing scrambled to pull up a TV show on the closest laptop. As the opening theme of some BBC drama began to play, Tommy sashayed into the room, clearly drunk on light beer and delusion. He took one bleary look at the girls and smirked.
“Whadd’re yaguys doin’?” he slurred, leaning against the doorframe.
Savannah glared at him from her cave in the crook of Claire’s arm. “Oh, you know,” she said mirthfully, “Claire just finished eating me out and giving me a wonderful, toe-numbing orgasm, and now we’re watching chick TV.”
“Yah... right.” he chuckled.
“Tell him, Claire,” Savannah insisted.
“It’s true,” Claire said, poker-faced, “I’ve realized that I’m an avid submissive and want to be used sexually by as many people as will have me, including but not necessarily limited to the smoking hot husband of my boss and our dear friend Savannah, here.”
“You know... you guys are kind of funny!” Tommy exclaimed, “You should totally join my improv team!”
“I’d rather kill myself,” Claire responded, “Or worse, ever have sex with you again.”
“What?” Tommy said.
“Looks like you’re sleeping on the futon tonight,” Savannah chirped, nuzzling against Claire, “I’ll just be in here, fingering your girlfriend.”
“Whatever...” Tommy said, shuffling off toward the living room, “You guys are freaks.”
“I think he’s right!” Claire whispered, letting her hand dance across Savannah’s breasts, “And I’m glad.”
“Well, good,” Savannah whispered, pulling down the neckline of her shirt, “Because I love sleepovers, and besides... we’ve got a lot more ground to cover before you head back to Mr. Man uptown. He’s not going to know what hit him.”
“You don’t think he’ll be upset?”
“Just trust me,” Savannah said, “Would I ever steer you wrong?”
***
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Cheryl screeched, the tiny vein in her forehead popping out as if to join in the fray.
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Claire said, attempting to remain calm in the face of Cheryl's irrational anger, “It’s just a freelance thing.”
“I’m upset because you went behind my back with my husband,” Cheryl screeched. A sickly sensation rose in Claire’s stomach as she considered just how true a statement that was. Of course, Cheryl wasn’t referring to Claire’s affair with Parker, but the fact that Parker had offered Claire a job with his company as a small-time photographer.
“Cheryl, photography is what I studied in school. It’s what I’m passionate about. Can’t you be happy for me that I finally get to do some work that’s related to what I love?”
“What the fuck do I care about what you love?!” Cheryl yelled, attracting the attention of a young nanny and her two charges who were milling aimlessly about the store. “I don’t want you slacking off here because you’re too busy running around with my husband.”
Claire bit her tongue and looked at her feet. One of these days, she would give Cheryl a thorough tongue-lashing. And not the kind she had treated Savannah to. “Please let me take on this job, Cheryl,” she said, ever the submissive, “It would really mean a lot to me.”
“Oh... fine. Whatever. Go run around snapping pictures of puppies and butterflies to your heart’s content, or whatever it is you do.”
“Thank you, Cheryl. Parker wanted to start this afternoon with some product photos.”
“You’re going to Parker’s office?” Cheryl said.
“Uh...”
“Great. Tell him I won’t be around tonight. I’m doing triple-header spin class. The idiot at the Deli put mayo on my wrap instead of mustard and I need to stay on top of it.”
“Oh... yeah. Gotta watch those pesky condiments,” Claire offered, lamely, “Don’t want to let that mayonnaise think it’s boss.”
“Wow, Claire,” Cheryl smiled, “You’re really starting to get me, aren’t you?”
The store’s front door flew open and Savannah flew in, red-cheeked. Cheryl beckoned for her to follow into the store’s office, probably for some unnecessary talking-to. Savannah breezed past Claire and, with a firm grab of the ass, whispered in her ear, “Go get him, tiger.”
Claire did not need to be prompted twice. She gathered her things and headed out onto Mulberry Street, feeling her heart begin to beat against her ribs as she hailed a cab going uptown. She’d gone a whole forty-eight hours without seeing Parker, and was in desperate need of his thick, unstoppable dick. As she pictured his warm cum spilling against her breasts, she was amazed to find herself in possession of such dirty thoughts. She was changing, and fast. She only prayed that her body would be able to keep up with the pace of her desires.
***
She knew the score this time, as the climbed the steps to her lover’s townhouse. The last time they’d met, he’d went out of his way to concoct some silly cover-up about important documents or some such nonsense. This time, however, there was no duplicitous cover, no need for any embarrassment or shame between them. Claire had returned to Parker’s upper east side love nest for one reason and one reason only: she could no longer stand to be away from the rippling, unstoppable body that had taught her what a real man’s love felt like. She scaled the steps of the pre-war brown stone and felt her knees begin to knock together. She wasn’t nervous, she had no reason to fear anything from Parker. She trembled with excitement, for the thought of what he might unlock within her once she entered that sacred place.
She felt so much older than she had when she first laid eyes on Parker. Only a week and change had passed since their fateful meeting, but already she’d thrown caution to the wind and found unbearably deep satisfaction in a forceful, intense tryst with Parker and a completely unexpected tongue session with her best friend Savannah. She’d come to realize how much she loved her body to be at the hands and command of another, and she wanted to see how far she could take this new, exciting form of submission. She wanted to see how deeply this urge to be conquered, mounted, and penetrated ran in her. How far would she go to serve the whims and fancies of her master or mistress? Only time would tell.
She rang the bell of the townhouse and waited. The air had turned cooler in New York, and she pulled her jacket more closely around her. She could feel her erect nipples against the fabric of her sweater and coat, and had lost track of whether she was just cold or extremely turned on by the thought of Parker’s member snapping to attention on the other side of the door. As if by the willing of her mind, the front door of the townhouse swung open. Claire peered inside, expecting to see Parker waiting there for her. Instead, there was only darkness beyond the threshold. Claire’s brow furrowed in concern. Where was he? She moved tentatively through the doorway, stepping lightly into the sleekly furnished apartment.
“Parker?” she called, feeling the soft carpet of the entry way under her feet, “Parker, where are you? It’s me, Claire.”
Still no answer from the depths of the house. As Claire made her way into the building, she realized that not a single light was on in the entire house. A burst of excited energy sparked at the base of her spine. It didn’t seem like anyone was home, but if that was the case... who had let her in?
“Parker?” she said again, the sparking excitement moving up her spine, illuminating her in the dark like a roman candle. She opened her mouth to call out again, to locate her lover in the heavy darkness of the apartment. As she parted her full lips, a strong hand clamped down over them as a thick, sinewy arm wrapped around her sumptuous waist. Her head swam with the sudden contact, and a cold panic washed over her. It was Parker there, wasn’t it? Not some random intruder who had it in for both of them?
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“Who do you think you are?” a voice growled. With simultaneous relief and ecstasy, Claire realized that the voice was Parker’s.
“Oh, thank god,” she cried, her words obscured by Parker’s hand. He clamped down harder on her mouth and she felt a knee dig into her back.
“Who said that you could wear shoes into this house?” he demanded in the darkness. Claire kicked off her modest pumps, eager at the opportunity to please her master. “It’s too late,” he continued, tightening his arm around her midsection, threatening to knock the wind out of her, “You blew it, kid. Now you’ll need to be punished. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Claire hesitated, not wanting to anger him further. He laughed and told her that is was OK, he gave her permission to speak if she made it quick. Claire wet her lips with her tongue, allowed her teeth to touch the cool, authoritative skin of her keeper’s palm.
“Parker,” she whispered, pressing harder into his body which stood stiff and unmoving behind her, “I’ve been so bad, Parker.”
She felt his hand snake through her hair, grab it tight. The force of his grasp threatened to tear her hair from her scalp.
“What the fuck do you mean you’ve been ‘bad’? How bad have you been, you filthy little bitch? Badder than dirtying my carpet with your bullshit whore heels, huh?”
“I’ve been so much badder than that,” Claire said, her throat thickening with tears. She wasn’t afraid of Parker’s force, but she was afraid to upset him. She just wanted to make him happy. And if his happiness lay in punishing her for her transgressions, she was more than happy to concede. “I... Parker, I... I was with someone yesterday.”
A cold silence filled the room, and Parker’s stillness riled Claire into a state of panicked wonder.
“What... do you mean,” Parker growled, the firm hardness of his body seeming to go ice cold against Claire’s.
“I mean that I... I...”
“You fucked someone?”
“Oh, Parker...”
“Is that it?” he demanded. Claire could not speak. Suddenly, she felt herself being whipped around, her back collided hard against the wooden stairs of the townhouse. Parker stood over her, not even bothering to hold her down, knowing that she would stay put if he wanted her to. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Claire could see that Parker was sneering at her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, reveling in her helplessness.
“Sorry for what?” Parker demanded, reaching for her throat. She ached for the feel of his hand around her neck, longed for it. “Sorry for fucking some limp-dicked idiot?”
“No, it wasn’t that...” she gasped, feeling his finger tighten around her windpipe.
“What the fuck was it then, you filthy slut?”
“It was... it was... Savannah.”
Parker’s eyes widened. She had actually taken him by surprise with that one. He looked down at her in wonder, realizing the breadth of her sexiness and, in the same moment, determining how best to go about showing her what that sexiness was worth to him. He regained his composure and stared coldly into Claire’s eyes.
“You mean to tell me that you fucked a girl?” he demanded. Claire nodded, helpless under his gaze. “Well then... you’re going to have to give me details. Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes,” Claire admitted. She let her hand wander up Parker’s thigh, wanting to see how hard the idea of her with another girl made him. He slapped at her hand, and she was stung by the blow.
“What did you do with her?” Parker demanded, grinding his knee against Claire’s inner thigh. She let out a moan that he promptly slapped out of her.
“I licked her pussy, Parker. She told me to eat her pussy and I had to do it,” Claire gasped, the pain of Parker’s advanced setting of unknown channels of pleasure within her.
“I see,” Parker said, digging his hands and knees further into Claire’s soft body, “So you like pussy now, do you?”
“Not as much as I love your dick in me,” Claire said desperately, “I love your fucking cock so much it hurts, Parker.”
“You don’t know what hurt is, little girl,” Parker said, “Not yet, you don’t.”
And with that, he was on her. Not on top of her, pressing down like last time. Instead, he fell upon her with digging fingers, ripping at the flesh of her arms and spinning her around so that she faced the cold hard stairs, lying on her soft belly. With no effort at all it seemed, Parker’s hands worked off Claire’s think cotton tee shirt, ripping the neckline, tossing it aside like a used rag. The clasp of her bra may as well have not existed, her tore through it so quickly.
She felt his rough, hard hands close around her breasts and the hardness of his cock brushed against the uncharted territory of her asshole. The dual sensation was far too much for her, and she felt as if she might faint.
Parker would not let her off the hook so easy. How had this city slicker’s hands become so rough, anyway? She didn’t have time to wonder. He stripped her of her panties, and her intentionally flimsy skirt, tossing away her clothing like it were disposable. She was lying naked under him, face down on the cold wooden stairs. The hard wood of the staircase accosted her delicate bones and muscles as the hard wood of his cock bucked against her exposed pussy. She reached back to free his cock from the belted waistband that held it, and he roughly grabbed her by the hair.
“Don’t you fucking move,” he growled, “Don’t you make a fucking sound.”
She turned her face away from him, lay her cheek against the cold wood. He removed his shirt behind her and, without speaking, tied her arms behind her with the discarded garment. She felt her pussy grow wet at the first sign of confinement, entrapment. She wanted nothing more than to be his plaything, and it didn’t seem like he objected to that notion one bit.
She heard the hard, definite clank of his belt buckle as it came undone, the scintillating whoosh of his zipper sliding down its track. Suddenly, she felt the heat of his body against hers, the long, pulsating length of his thick cock pulsating against her naked ass. Her pulse quickened. She never taken if from behind before... in any orifice. She’d always been opposed to doggy style before, but with the clearly alpha male... she couldn’t wait.
She lifted her round, full ass before him as an offering to do with what he would, and words seemed to fail him. With an animalistic grunt, he slid the tip of his member in the wet, waiting depth of her pussy. She gasped, unprepared for the size of him yet again. She knew that as many times as he entered her, she’d never grow accustomed to that girth. He slammed his dick into her eager cunt, and she winced as it stretched the lips of her. He pounded her against the stairs, her head banging against the grainy wood.
Quicker and more forcefully his thrusts rained down upon her, barreling into that spot within her that could set her free. With one huge, Herculean push, he sent her flying into orgasm, and he was right behind her. He pulled out of her pussy and allowed the warm spray of his seed to coat her back, get into her hair, and mark her.
“You’re mine, Claire,” he panted, grinning down at her cum-covered back. “You are mine for the keeping.”
“Can I take a shower?” Claire asked innocently, running her fingers along a stream of cum coursing down her arm.
Parker chuckled and grabbed her roughly by the arm. He began to tug her up the stairs, pushing her back down the minute she got her footing. She struggled honestly and obediently, wincing as her exposed hips and breasts banged against the wood. She was his, and she was elated. He could do with her whatever he wanted now, because she knew that she had him ensnared for life. He may have been the dominant in the relationship, but she knew that she had entranced him. Still, she couldn’t let him in on that secret, and so they fumbled up the stairs, thinking with pleasure about the bruises she was sure to have the next day.
* * * * *
Chapter 4
* * * * *
Claire glanced around the dimly lit chamber, trying to peer around the heavy curtains that
surrounded the four-poster bed. She was lying prone in the middle of an enormous king-sized bed, stark naked. Every inch of her exposed body quivered, and she pulled again the restraints that held in place, testing the strength of the ropes that bound her. Parker’s work was unshakeable. Pull and tear as she might, she could not rip herself free from her binding.
And that was just fine with her.
She writhed against the silky sheets beneath her. The smooth stretch of silk rubbed against her naked skin as the sharp teeth of the ropes dug into her wrists and ankles. The pain and pleasure were bound to drive her mad—she felt as if she could cum right there from the mere sensations that Parker had set up for her. She thought, smiling, that he’d probably planned it that way. He may have been a dominant alpha male, but Parker had a soft side as smooth as the silk that tantalized Claire’s unclothed pussy.
Parker and Claire had been carrying on their illicit tryst for little over a month. If she could have known, as she first looked into Parker’s eyes in the subway car a month ago when they’d met that she’d one day become his submissive sex slave... Well, in all honesty she probably would have jumped for joy. Claire’s relationship with Parker had turned her entire world upside down. In the time she’s known him, she’d been forced past every boundary she had set up for herself. She’d been bound, gagged, chained, whipped, ate out a girl, ate out plenty of other things, felt like a straight-up contortionist at times... Life was wild, that way.
Adding the forbidden nature of their affair was the fact that both Parker and Claire were attached. Of course, Claire’s boyfriend was a whimpering punk with the sexual prowess of a pug, and Parker’s wife was a shrieking dragon woman. Still, it sometimes added to the drama of their situation that what they were doing was forbidden by anyone’s standards. Even so, Claire sometimes wondered how long she could keep up the charade.
