“Damn straight,” I mutter, watching her move. I toss my legs over the side of the bed and stand up slowly. I gaze outside at the darkness, spit in my hand, and coat my dick. This isn’t going to be pretty. I pull her to the edge of the bed and thrust inside with a triumphant victory. She’s soaking, so much so that the spit was unnecessary. Dripping around my shaft, I grab her hips and pick the pace up fast—we are going rough and wild.
We are going home.
And damn, it feels good.
Rolling my hips against her mound, I finally acquire the perfect dance partner as she moans and moves with me. I don’t even think about what comes next as the first strike of my hand impacts her ass with a heavenly collision. Amber has an ass worth spanking. Fink would love her, but I doubt I will ever share. She is mine.
“Let me collar you while you’re here.”
She pauses in the melody of our mayhem as she tosses me a glance over her shoulder. “… Are you serious?”
“Like fuck,” I reply, releasing her hips and pulling the chain off my neck. I have so many crosses; I can easily spare one to protect Amber and offer her the absolute in our world. She has a long slender neck built for thick collars, but it isn’t functional and practical to wear all the time. With my dick buried deep inside of her, I carefully drape the chain over her hair. The symbolic message is clear. “Mine. Always.”
“Forever,” she whispers, grinding her ass against me. “Thank you, Master Nero.”
“I got you, babe.”
And she had me.
I fully expected my adoring husband and his slut to be fucking within twelve hours. I was a little off, but not by much. I blame the weed. And whiskey. And crabs.
Hidden behind the door, I made it for the fireworks. I know he collared her. I anticipated that as well. He needs her because the alternative is a scary place where he loses everything to a vapid addiction. I’d rather he keep his zest as he is quite a colorful character. I gave him Amber as a gift. With every grunt and thrust, he accepted my offering.
The whole thing made me remarkably chipper. I didn’t harbor any jealousy or ill will towards Amber as I did with Jaid. She was a hellish nightmare for me on a personal level because I desperately loved her. Amber was just another slut, but Sal had been taken with her since before I had him carted off to Sibyl. I supported his efforts with the other woman we called his practice slut, side piece, and mistress.
After watching the spectacle of their joining in my living room, I went back to bed, pulled out my vibrator, and took care of business. It was about the only way I could let go. It had less to do with the feeling and more to do with the control. I was losing power in every way possible with my body, but I could fucking rock this shit. I dropped that hot little nub on mine and cranked up the speed, and I could have a motherfucking orgasm. It was bliss amongst the blast.
I took a shower (which Sal allowed—but no baths) and dressed in some loose pajamas. I watched some television, answered a few emails from work as I had been teaching at Juliet until recently. I took a leave of absence for our wedding and honeymoon, but by the time we got back from our worldwide tour, I no longer had the energy.
I let them sleep and frequently checked in on them. At one point, I even covered Amber up with my Oilers blanket. I rarely ever shared it with anyone, including Sal. But she did something no one else had—made Sal laugh and smile again. I owed props to her as she reignited the man I needed to carry me through to the end. Depressed Sal is never fun. He tends to want to get so drunk he can’t walk, and he blabbers about all the things he missed over the years. I need vibrant energy if I’m going out with a bang.
I decide at three in the afternoon that they have slept long enough and I go to make coffee. The aroma inspires me to craft some French toast for them. Yes, I’m the sick one, and I’m cooking for them. I understand on the most basic of terms—I’m serving up my cheating husband and his hussy. But I don’t see it that way. I’m serving up my former submissive lover and his new bottom. Perhaps bacon and orange slices are in order, too.
I’m plating the pieces of French toast and arranging them in a scrumptious display as Sal walks over naked. “Dear God, you are a good-looking man.”
“What are you doing?”
He leans down and kisses my lips as I note movement from the sofa. Sitting up with my blanket around her, Amber smiles. “Making breakfast,” I inform, carrying the plate to Amber in bed. They are both staring at me like I’ve gone insane. “Would you like juice?”
“Kaci,” she says, laying her hand on mine. “You don’t have to do this.”
I set the plate on the bed beside her and bend down to her face. My fingers lightly trickle around her cheeks and arrive at her mouth. Her lips part and I slide the tip of my thumb to touch her tongue. Her blue eyes scan over me as she tilts her head and slowly inches closer. I press my lips to hers and pull the blanket away exposing her naked body. Breaking our kiss, I let my fingers explore the terrain of her healthy, uninhabited by crabs skin as I whisper, “You are beautiful.”
“So are you,” she says, taking a gulp and breathing deep. “Thank you for him.”
I shift my gaze to Sal. He’s holding a coffee cup and smoking a cigarette and keeping his distance, but his assessing gaze is picking up every beat of my actions. This is a lesson about compassion and empathy and forgiveness. He will do as I have done because I showed him this. He is an excellent student.
I cannot provide for him as I need to be able to, but the heaven-sent goddess before me can. She can give what I cannot and be what he needs through this trying time. I’m indebted to her for her generosity and to him for fucking trusting me.
“You should eat, and I’ll draw you up a bubble bath,” I say with a smile. “Let me prove how okay with this I am.”
Her finger locks into mine as she whispers, “Only if you take it with me.”
“I would love to,” I reply, humbled by her offer.
Amber doesn’t have to be kind to me. Her job – the one I’m paying her to do – is entertaining my husband and his whims, whatever those may be. He wants to go dancing; she is to put on her best freakum dress. He wants to go for a drive, she is to keep the music and smokes rolling out. He wants a fuck; she is to spread her legs without opinion. He wants to beat her ass blood red; she best say, "Thank you, Sir." Those were the terms when I called Amber. And I couldn’t be happier with my purchase of one damn good slut.
8. Damn Good Slut
Wednesday, December 15
17 days before…
It was just weird—in the teenage boy, dreaming about such things kind of way.
These two girls somehow meshed like they had known each other their whole lives. On the surface, it appeared they had only one common ground – BDSM – but even there, they were polar opposites. Kaci was well trained in many aspects, while Amber was more of a studied practitioner, mostly because of yours truly. Amber grew up impoverished and with no one; Kaci had a beautiful adoptive family. Amber looked like the classic beauty; Kaci skirted the edge as even now the tips of her hair were pink. Prior to our marriage, Kaci was a pierced, dyed mess of fun. But somewhere in all that jumble, they connected.
I kept waiting for them to fuck.
The best part was I had two girls in one tub.
But…damn. I mean…day—um. It was good.
I was happy. Amber was delighted. And even Kaci was happier.
Last night, we all slept in our bed. Amber volunteered for the middle. I bumped into her thigh way too often with my erection and at one point, my hips bucked against her ass. Grinding into flesh was like the security blanket and binky I needed all rolled into one. She was there—alive and receptive as her hand reached between us and gripped my cock. She jacked me off on her ass, and I fell back asleep.
I showered early and decided a decadent breakfast was in order. I made both of their favorites—pancakes for Amber and toast for Kaci. I had coffee, and I even managed to get down a protein shake. The unfort
unate part of that was it made me miss running and working out which I hadn’t done for weeks. My last good run was with Dom in New Orleans.
The girls are showering now.
Yes, together.
Believe me, the pierced beast knows.
The one thing that I hadn’t realized until Amber showed up was how much work caring for another individual is. It’s a full-time job. Kaci needed someone with her nonstop as sometimes even getting dressed was exhausting. That left me an overworked caretaker until Amber showed up. Not only did she alleviate the pressure in my cock, but she managed to pick up some of the daily caregiving duties. And at least with me, she earned angel wings with her kindness.
I catch them both with two towels, warm from the dryer.
“Thank you,” Amber says, taking my hand as I help her step out.
Kaci follows with a smirk. “When will Jack be here?”
Checking my watch, I answer, “An hour.”
“You know I think this doctor visit is pointless.”
“I know you do, Kace,” Amber says, pulling out clothes for her. “But we already discussed this, and we need to know how bad it is.”
“It’s bad. I’m dying.”
Amber blinks, unamused. She doesn’t take Kaci’s crap which is impressive. It kind of turns me on. Kaci and I have a history, and I end up buckling a lot. Amber doesn’t have that with her, and it is a good thing.
“You want some make-up?” Amber offers, unzipping her bag. “Might make you feel better.”
“Sure,” Kaci says as her eyes blink with a request. I walk over and hoist her up onto the counter. “I don’t think any amount of war paint can make me look better.”
“You’d be surprised what some color will do,” Amber says, dusting her with powder. “Besides, the purpose of make-up is in offering an illusion.”
A half-hour later, Kaci looks more like a stripper than a cancer patient. This is fucking awesome. I squeeze Amber’s hand and mouth out a thank you before I go to help Kaci get dressed.
Another thirty minutes pass as we are ready and waiting for Jack to arrive. We are silent and exchanging glances and smirks as we mentally prepare to go to war. When Jack finally knocks, we take two cars to the large hospital downtown.
Dr. Weathers reports are much the same. Despite thousands of pills and hundreds of chemo treatments, Kaci’s scans render the verdict—the end is near, and we should prepare as nothing is working.
This is our final visit to the oncologist, and while I expect that to send her psyche on a downward spiral, it seems to have the opposite effect. Kaci is full of bright jubilation. Her continued waiting is over, but mine is just starting.
“Will you come back?” Kaci says, hugging Jack, who has to leave for a consult. “Because I miss you.”
“Absolutely,” he assures with a promise we all know he may not be able to fulfill. “I will be back soon. I love you.”
They give one another a hug and kiss, but there is a finality that never existed until now. With all the bad shit out of the way and the girls all dolled up, we decide to have lunch at Kaci’s favorite Mexican restaurant. We eat outside in the beautiful weather. Kaci orders a ton of food but hardly eats anything. However, she does manage to get half of a strawberry margarita down.
We give off the appearance of rich kids with nothing better to do. It’s easier to swallow. We sit for hours, nibbling and chatting. Time no longer matters.
We are out of minutes.
With my white dress shirt billowing open at the top and my Ray-bans on, I soak up the lie. Amber laughs as Kaci is telling stories from our past.
“This supposedly awesome submissive,” she says, smiling at me. “Was never much of a sub.” She reaches up and strokes Amber’s cheek. “Not like you anyway.”
The check arrives and Amber hands over her credit card before I can. Lifting her hand flat to me, she lowers her shades on her nose and assures, “I got this. It’s okay.”
I smirk. “It’s rare when I let a lady buy.”
“Don’t think you are getting lucky because I’m certainly no lady.”
We laugh as the waiter returns with the slip. “I’ll get lucky either way.”
Amber points at me with the pen. “You know you are right. Don’t let it go to your head though.”
“Never!”
“Hey y’all, since I’m all gussied up, and not looking like walking death, let’s go home and have a scene, ” Kaci suggests, slightly intoxicated. “You and me,” she mutters, thumping my shoulder. “We can double Dom on Amber.”
I glance at Amber, thinking she might run for the hills. She smiles and says, “That sounds like fun!” She pushes her sunglasses back up and says, “Let me drive the Challenger.”
I nod and hand her the keys.
Giving up some control doesn’t mean giving in.
Spending the afternoon napping on the sofa together, I wake to find Amber staring at me. Kaci is laying between us with Amber at her feet and her head in my lap.
“I love you,” she mouths and blinks.
Lifting my arm on the back of the sofa, I reach for her fingers. “I love you.”
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head—no. The warm tears flow onto my cheeks as I silently cry under her protective gaze. The worst thing ever is coming. I can see it in the distance, but judging how long it will be before it arrives is a torturous wait. I would hate to miscalculate.
I glance at the stack of brochures and pamphlets we have seen hundreds of times for home health nursing care. Amber notices my despondency and squeezes my hand. I look up to find her shaking her head—no.
“We,” she mouths, pointing at herself and me, “got this.”
“Thank you.”
A sigh bubbles between us. “I swear to God if you two stick me in a home, I will fucking kill you.”
“We will be doing no such thing,” I reassure as Amber maintains a firm grip on my hand.
“Absolutely not,” Amber adds, rubbing Kaci’s leg. “We have you.”
I let go of Amber to help Kaci sit up. With revitalized energy, she encourages, “Let’s do this!”
Heading to the bedroom holding hands with Kaci, Amber turns back to me with a look of sheer panic. “Sal…”
“We got this,” I profess, moving the furniture around to make room for Kaci’s idea of a session. “I promise.”
I kick off my shoes and socks and strip off my shirt. Continuing to prep the scene, I bring out all of Kaci’s favorites—the riding crop and cane, kneeling bench, and a small black case containing all her sounds. I even grab her harness and teal dildo because I have no idea what she has in mind for Amber.
“Get the pins!” Kaci yells from the bedroom.
Holy. She’s serious about this.
I grab the box of clothespins, containing zippers, mods, and elastics. Bitch loves her pins almost as much as she loves providing adequate amounts of pain and pleasure. In the cabinet, I spot her favorite cock ring for me and take it, too.
I’m sad about the diagnosis, even though we expected it. But I’m strangely excited about this session. I’ve never seen Amber in full regalia, and I have no doubt, Kaci has her done up to the nines.
Emerging from the bedroom, Kaci appears wearing a strappy black bra and black boy shorts. If she spent the energy dressing for the event, I know there wouldn’t be an event. So, I plant a kiss on her lips and tell her she looks lovely.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “You got gum?”
Parking the hot smoke between my lips, I delve into my pocket to drop the pack in her palm. I snarl. “I know you.”
“Yeah,” she says, rubbing my arm. “You do. Are you ready for this?”
“I don’t know.”
She giggles. “Follow my lead. Don’t argue.” Popping a piece of gum in her mouth, she winks. “I still outrank you.”
“You always will…holy fuck…”
From the doorway, I spot Amber with a cinched, black lace corset, garters
and stockings, spanking skirt, and a black collar. That neck. Her hair is tossed up in a bun as her bangs frame her sweet face. Instead of opting for red lipstick, she chose a light rose color to soften the edges.
She is a sadist’s dream date.
“You look amazing.”
Amber smiles. “I feel pretty amazing. I’ve worn a lot of costumes, but never a corset. Particularly one with removable boob cups!”
Kaci bursts out laughing. “Bitch is a size four. Make sure she gets my entire wardrobe. There are multiple trunks in the attic. Give Jaid the vinyl catsuit cause it’s a six.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I mutter, awestruck by the sight as I ignore the appearance of the dark future in Kaci’s words.
The silent chemistry between Amber and I is explosive as I cannot wait to unwrap that. The more buckles, belts, ties, straps, and things I have to undo, the harder my cock gets. I love presents, and nothing is better than unraveling a girl from her threads and mental restraints. My aim with every scene is always the same—set them free and watch them fly.
From the sofa, Kaci lights her pipe. “… Partake?”
“Not tonight,” I reply, wanting to remember every second of this.
“Boy is getting his game on,” Kaci says, exhaling. “Impressive, Pretty Boy.”
“The good Dom is the tattoo you never feel until the bandage is ripped off.”
Kaci blinks. “Do you remember everything I ever said?”
“I try,” I say, cocking my head and extending my hand towards Amber. “Shall we do this dance?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispers as our skin touches. “Thank you.”
“For?”
Her blue eyes slowly lower as she elegantly lifts up on her toes and swoops down to her knees in one fluid drop. The graceful position is the work of practice, a combination of yoga, ballet, and much discipline.
Not everyone can do it.
Amber can—because of her extensive training with Dominic Gennaro and handling by me. His high protocol standards are a trademark of his skill, but rarely are they ever encountered to Amber’s degree. I recognize the swan-like moves readily and without much note as I have been under his tutelage.
Vote Then Read: Volume II Page 95
