I love you so much, Master!
You’re a fucking God and I love you, Master.
Fuck, I just...I love you so, so, so much. Oh my god, MY God...
Master. That was a lovely name for him...
“Concentrate,” he said, pumping slowly into her snatch. “Do what I told you.”
The computer was in front of her. She was supposed to add money to the grant. Right. She put down a number, not remembering really what he had asked for. Probably it was the perfect amount.
“More,” he ordered.
She added another zero.
“M-more,” he grunted. “More, more, more, more...”
He kept grunting out the word, fucking her face into the computer screen.
“Christ, I'm going to cum right in your fucking belly.”
She wasn't on protection. She didn't care. His bare, hot cock felt so amazing. His load would be perfect, so perfect. This was all...all...
Perfect.
His warmth filled her body. It was immaculate. Wonderful. She was probably pregnant now with some perfect new child. She came, crying and moaning, biting down on her arm to prevent from screaming. The pleasure thrashing through her body as his hands ripped away at her ridiculous, tiny little outfit. Her hand stuck on the zero key, adding more and more and more until the computer dinged with error.
Slowly, he exited her body and slapped her on the ass.
“Good job, Mrs. Durant.”
She had a husband, somewhere. It was hard to care. This man was perfect. Her husband was nothing.
His fingers slid around her mouth, sliding the cum from her pussy down across her tongue. She licked it up eagerly. Then she watched as he deleted most of the long line of zeroes she had entered.
“There,” he said. “Five hundred thousand. That’s easy enough to hide, isn’t it?”
“Yes, baby.” She nodded urgently. “Anything you say. Sure.”
“No, really.” He held her face. “You can hide that, right? No questions? No trouble?”
Quickly, she did the math, and then nodded. “Yes. There’s...yes. Trusts. So many. They’ll never notice a thousand here or there. I know which are oldest. It will be fine.”
He left her then. In his hands were her clothes and also a giant bag of cash. When had he gotten that? She didn't care. It was probably at the perfect time.
Her work was only beginning. She changed back into her other set of clothes—kept the entire time in a small pile in the corner, where she had forgotten about them. She remembered them now—remembered that it was very important to put them on and put on a happy, smiling face for her workers.
Even though, truly, she was dead inside without the cock of her Man inside of her, leading her, guiding her, telling her what to think and how to feel. But that feeling would fade. She knew it would. Something certain inside of her mind told her so.
But her work did not stop there, with allocating the money. Oh, no. She had given away a great deal of money today, and it would take a lot of dedication and craft to ensure that no one found about it.
A voice inside her told her that she would be happy with her life. Perfectly happy. Everything would be tip-top and fine. She would even forget about doing all of this; she could deny ever having set it up. Already the memory of his cock had faded from her thoughts.
But if he came calling, she would remember everything. And serve him as he deserved.
* * * * *
That had gone very well. Better than he ever could expected or hoped.
God. All his debts, completely erased. Just like that.
Or his official debts, anyway. The ones through the bank. He still, of course, had a few loan sharks to worry about—but they would be easily paid off now. And he had no desire or need to ever take money from them again.
Heart filled with confidence, he put his wife on the phone as he drove back to his workshop. He planned a mocking, sly message to make her wonder about whether leaving him was a good idea. To his surprise, she actually answered.
“Yes, Warren?”
“Hello, Melinda.” His smile was auditory.
“Hello, Warren. Did you call to apologize?”
“For what?”
“For making a mockery of our marriage? For being a mockery of a man? For pretending like you were ever worthy of being at my side? There’s a lot to choose from. Let me think for a moment, and I’ll pick for you.”
He was not going to be goaded into an argument. He was not.
Soon. Very soon indeed—he would use the watch on her. He’d make her beg to apologize to him. He’d make her grovel and crawl, to wear only potato bags for a year. Every last demeaning and humiliating thing he could think of, and she would take it all with a grateful smile and a sad tear for not being able to suck his cock.
But he swallowed his rage at his betrayal. It wouldn’t do to show his hand. She'd be suspicious. She was massively intelligent and possessed an animal cunning that always put herself first.
“Let’s be adults, shall we?”
“Oh? Adult? Is that what you’re calling yourself now?”
“Please, Melinda. I would very much like to...reconcile, somehow.”
“Excuse me?” she scoffed.
“You caught me very much by surprise yesterday. Surely you can see that. I didn’t get to say much in edgewise.”
“I don’t know very well that you deserve to, really. I said everything I wanted to say. I was the one with something to say. You would have only...done what you’re doing now. Try to change my mind. Try to plead and cajole.”
A text from Tasia dinged on his phone:
I love you so fucking much!
Warren smiled.
“I don’t want to plead and cajole. I want to hear you. Hear what’s on your mind. I want to...” he took a breath. “I would like an accounting. Where you think it all went wrong. No matter what you may think of me now, we were happy, once. For a time. And even if I can’t do that with you anymore, I should very much like to know how not to fuck up any other relationships I might have.”
A slip. He shouldn’t have revealed that much. God, but it was too easy to talk to Melinda. Her voice was so silky, so smooth, so warm and vibrant even as he hated the mind behind it.
“Other relationships? Are you sleeping with someone already?”
Drat. She had caught that, eh? Oh well. Go on the offensive. Keep her off-balanced.
“You’re getting mad about me sleeping with someone? Really?”
“It’s different. You’re not supposed to—” she huffed. “You know what? Nevermind. I don’t care. Sleep with anyone.”
“Will you meet with me? Tomorrow, let’s say. At the house. Seven in the evening.”
“Very well. Tomorrow. Don't expect dinner.”
They hung up.
* * * * *
He placed a brief call to Tasia to clean herself up and then meet him at the workshop, and arrived back there himself.
But outside already was Belle’s old jeep.
“The hell?”
He had given up on seeing them again. His mind, for the night at least, was pre-occupied solely with Tasia. Training her for the show Saturday—because, oh yes, he had to perform, and he would perform better than ever—and then fucking her while she wore one of Belle’s old stage uniforms. They were of a similar sort of busty, slender build, though Tasia’s tits were all-natural.
Inside, the two beauties were practicing. Belle wore a tight pink yoga outfit—deliciously grabby tights with sexy white tennis shoes bouncing softly as she corrected and suggested while Katie moved. Her hoodie was pink as well, no shirt underneath, but rather a black sports-bra that barely held her enormous tits inside.
Katie had on tight, spandex black shorts and a pink tank top displaying her modest breasts. Her tennis shoes pink.
Had they...coordinated outfits? If they had, then he suspected Katie had spearheaded the event. Belle was not one for such contrivances.
With a smi
le on his face, he picked up a small box that had been used for storing envelopes. He cleared out the envelopes and placed the watch inside, and approached the ladies as they walked through movements for a show—presumably the show they hoped to steal from him on Friday.
“So, you’ll run this way, passing out cards.”
“The real ones or the flaming ones?”
“The flaming ones, of course. We can’t pass out your real cards. They’ll just hit the audience in the face, you twit.”
“Right, Belle.” Katie nodded meekly. “Sorry, Belle.”
Warren cleared his throat. Katie jumped. Belle merely turned coolly.
“Hello, loser.”
Warren frowned. The weight of the watch in the box he held was pleasant. A comfort. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We thought we would keep rehearsing here, actually.”
“And why did you think that?”
“Well, Katie can actually afford the rent.”
Katie shrugged sheepishly. “It’s my Dad who can. But he does whatever for me.”
“And you can’t,” said Belle. “We thought we would allow a concession. Let you pay a little to stay. Maybe that weird room in the back that you try to hide. Yeah,” she laughed. “See? I told you he thought we didn’t know about it. Look at his face.”
Warren was going to let that slide. He was going to let it slide all the way down to the ground, when she was on her knees, licking his heels like they were candy.
“I had something to show you.”
“Oooh,” said Katie, a smile on her face. “Is it a present?”
“Who cares what it is?” Belle crossed her arms. “He doesn’t have money to give us anything worthwhile, anyway.”
He smiled. “You’d be surprised. And yes, Katie, it is a gift. But before I give it to you...”
“You’re not getting anything in return.” Belle shook her head. “Not a single thing.”
“Before I give it to you,” he continued, “I have to know something.”
Belle crossed her arms. “I really, actually, totally am not going to sleep with you.”
“Yeah!” Katie crossed her arms too. “Me neither!”
God, they were like dutiful little detectives in a children’s story. Thinking they had outwitted the big bad boss.
“There’s no way to work it out between us?” Warren asked. “No way that you’ll ever go back to work for me?”
“Not even if you grew thirty feet tall and could shit fire balls. No. Possible. Way.”
He had asked, at least. Somehow, it made him feel less accountable. He had made every effort to be civil. But his livelihood was on the line. His very life.
Tasia would make for an excellent assistant, it was true. But didn’t Warren deserve more? Belle and Katie were both incredible at their jobs. To control them absolutely as they worked would only make them better.
“Well, then.” Warren held the present out, and opened the box. “You’ve earned this, then.”
“What is it?” Katie reached in to touch.
Slowly, Warren held it up, dangling without swinging.
“It’s a watch, my dear.”
“A watch?”
Slowly, the watch began to swing from side to side.
“That’s right. A very special watch. Isn’t it special?”
“Sp...special,” they said, completely in unison. Even the small stutter was said in tune with the other, in the same warm monotone.
These two unmatched beauties stood before Warren, their minds completely ready and willing to take on every thought he had ever had. Every dirty piece of his will. Every last, filthy, horrible thought he’d had about filling their bodies to the brim was now available to him at any time.
“I need you girls to listen to me, carefully. With an open mind. With full attention.”
“We are listening, Warren.”
He smiled. Their beautiful, luscious faces blank and ready to do anything he said. It was amazing.
“You don't need to respond unless I say so. You are listening so deeply, so attentively, right now, that it's like you're in a classroom. In fact, that's where you are. In a class room. You can see the board at the front. You can see the other seats, but it's only the two of you there. You can see the teacher's desk, and the door, but you don't ever want to leave. You can hear my voice, and you know it’s deeply important, but you have only each other there. But you’re not focused on one another. You’re focused on the board. What are you focused on?”
They replied in unison. “On the board.”
“That’s right, girls. And on the board is everything you know to be true in this world. All your thoughts. All your beliefs and responsibilities. All your values. There's so much. It fills the board. Writing on top of writing on top of writing. It's hard to keep track of it all, but you know every last thing is there. All your stressors. All your worries. All on the board.
“Now. In one hand, you have an eraser. Both of you. You can feel it. The softness on one end. The residue of chalk in the fabric. You’re going to take that eraser...and you’re going to wipe it all away. Wipe away those thoughts. Wipe away those values. All those beliefs and responsibilities. All, all gone. What’s on the board, girls?”
“Nothing. Nothing.”
“That's right. From now on, when you hear my voice, you’ll know that everything I say will be etched on the board. Inscribed on it. Irremovable. Irreducible. Undeniable. My words fill your boards. You will be able to write new words on top, but only in chalk. My words, my Will, is there forever. What fills your boards?”
“Your words fill our boards.”
“Good. My voice is so important to you. My work is important to you. My cock is important. My pleasure. My happiness. You can’t imagine anything more important to you than my happiness.”
He continued on. On the boards of their minds, he wrote out a long treatise of the correctness of his rule over them. They would never disobey. They would never leave. They would apologize for even once considering it. They would love him, always. If they were uncertain of an order, they would always ask for clarification. Their highest ruling philosophy would be to protect him and give him pleasure. They would never do anything to harm him, or each other, or—Warren thought of Tasia now—any other slave he owned.
And then he gave them a very specific set of instructions, smiling and stroking his cock all the while.
* * * * *
Tasia squirmed at the door, conflict clear on her face. She had spent the whole day, almost, cleaning out this place and making it look lovely, but Master had ordered her to go home and shower and dress pretty. Then, she was to wait outside until he said it was all clear, and so that’s what she did.
She was looking pretty. A bright orange dress decorated her lithe, gorgeous caramel form. Her long hair was loose around her shoulders, her breasts braless in the overtight confines of her outfit. Heels on her feet displayed her legs, her ass. The wind picked up, and she had to hold down the short edges of the dress to make sure her bare pussy wasn't shown to the world.
Panic struck her suddenly. Had she sent him the required text? She checked her phone for the most recent:
You’re the most amazing Man alive. I love you.
Slowly, she cooled. That was the hundredth such text; the hundredth such panic attack. In ten more minutes, she would send him another, even though he was right inside. He had ordered her to do it, after all. He had ordered it. You didn’t just ignore an order.
She was a good slave.
And fuck, wasn’t that strange?
She was biting one thumb, conflict clear on her face. She didn’t know why she was there at this warehouse in the middle of the city. Her compulsion was evident on her face, scrawled in the small worry lines forming on her smooth dark skin. Should she be there at all? Why was she there? How long had she known him? Wasn’t this all rather sudden?
But then the door opened. He was there. Her everything. Her existence. Her
entire life. Suddenly, her knees buckled.
“Hello, my lovely.”
“Oh.”
Suddenly, it all made sense to Tasia. Everything about this—everything in the world. Of course she had been waiting to see him. Wanting to see him. Desperate to. Of course she had come running when he called—fucking look at him. He was perfect for her. The perfect stud. The most perfect man in the world.
“Oh,” she said again. “H-Hi. Hi, Master.”
It wasn’t lost on Tasia that she was pretty. Men did all sorts of things for her. Free coffee. Free drinks at bars. Cops let her off tickets. When her husband died (what husband? What? Did I have a husband?) people kept saying how terrible it was for her to have to be such a beautiful young widow.
But all knowledge of her worth was lost once she found herself once again in the gaze of her Master.
“I’m so, so happy to see you again.” She took his hands into hers, kissing them. He tolerated it, like the adoration of an overexcited puppy. “I’m just...” she shook her head. “You have this...this fucking effect on me, Sir. I can’t explain it. Like...like I just called you Sir! Just now!”
She put her head in her hands. “It’s so hard to think when I’m around you. And I like to think. I do. But you’re...” she nipped little kisses at his chin, his neck. “You’re so fucking handsome, and all I end up wanting to do is needing to kiss you, and serve you, and just...j-just do anything at all that you tell me, Master.”
But all he did in return was smile. Tasia melted all the same.
“I want to show you something.”
He pulled her into the office and then back into the workshop area.
There, standing in ornate, gaudy outfits, were two gorgeous young women. One was busty, her body clearly fertile and fuck-ready from a young age. The other was tall and reedy, almost, her beauty eager on her face.
They were speaking on unison on cellphones in their hands.
“I'm just a stupid slut. I'll never be anything more than a stupid, cockloving whore. This isn't a joke. This isn't a prank. I haven't lost a bet. A whore is all that I am. All that I can ever hope to be. I don't want anything else except to be filled and sprayed with cum. I want everyone to know. I'm such a dumb, dumb, idiot whore. All that I am for the rest of my life are three holes to be used and abused by men. It's all I'm good for. It's all I'll ever be.”
Nadia Nightside's Best of 2015 Page 19
