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KatherineMinola
Planetoid
- Joined
- Nov 27, 2015
- Location
- USA
Cara Smith checked the chicken she had baking in the oven, noting that she still had about 20 minutes before it was finished. She lowered the temperature of the vegetables to simmer, and then she made her way to the largest guest room. She made the bed with ease, fluffing pillows and pulling the duvet into a perfect display, and then she stood back to admire her work. Yes, it looked perfect.
She turned, flipping the light switch and closing the door, vowing that she would not cry again. She was tired of crying, for she had cried all night and most of the day since her husband had returned home form work last night and announced that he had a slave he had been visiting for months now, and he was bringing her to live with them. Upon his casual announcement, as though he were announcing a business transaction, she'd dropped her fork, stunned by everything he'd said. He had looked at her with disapproval, and she hurried to pick up the utensil, wiping it of with her napkin, and continued eating, listening to his instructions to make up the large guest room. When dinner was finished, he had kissed her forehead and left, telling her that he would be sleeping at his slave's apartment to help her pack. He'd left her to pick up the dinner dishes and the pieces of her heart.
The woman went into her own room and glanced at the clock. Her husband and Allie, his slave, were to arrive in a few minutes, and she wanted to look her best. She was nervous, certain the slave was beautiful, for her husband had always preferred beautiful women, and Cara surveyed her own form in the mirror. At 43, she no longer had a youthful figure, but she had kept herself trim and healthy, something her husband used to compliment her about. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was thick and lustrous, with just a few strands of silver winking through, and her big green eyes were envied by man when she was in college. She had a pert nose and heart-shaped face, and her breasts were full and still had some bounce to them, although they had dropped just a bit. She lifted her shirt in the mirror and noted that her waist was trim, and her stomach had only the slightest curve to it, although her stomach showed the faint and distant lines of stretching to accommodate her pregnancy. Cara ran her fingers over the marks, her mind traveling to a time when she and her husband were young and excited about starting a family, but their dreams had been dashed when she'd miscarried. They had not been able to conceive again, and her husband would not entertain the idea of adoption, so they explored other interests, and he had soon found that he was a dominant and she a submissive.
She lowered her shirt and spritzed some body spray on to her arms and neck, wondering again why she was letting her husband do this. They hadn't talked about this, and they'd agreed on monogamy when they married; he'd vowed it! Even when they began exploring the Lifestyle, he had been faithful to her...or so she thought. He obviously had taken on a slave some time ago, and who knows if he'd had others. She turned abruptly, forcing her thoughts to other topics and walked downstairs, setting the table and taking the chicken out of the oven. It was a perfect golden brown.
The quiet rumble of her husband's Mercedes sounded, and Cara wiped her hands, her heart pounding as she went to the door to greet the duo. She could do this. She was strong. With a pasted smile on her face, she opened the front door, her smile faltering at the sight of her husband with his arms wrapped around the most beautiful young woman she had ever seen, the blonde girl plastered to him and bound in a lip lock filled with such heat and desire that the older woman stepped back, blushing. This was much worse than she'd ever imagined.
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Twenty-two-year-old Alison Marks could hardly believe her good luck. Here she was, a college drop-out moving into a mansion! Sure, she had to share it with some hag, but that wouldn't be for long. She smirked, watching her new master as he drove his Mercedes, and she felt a tug inside her pussy. God, she loved when this man fucked her. She couldn't get enough of him.
She reached over and slid her hand along his thigh, and she heard his faint chuckle. He knew what she wanted. He knew that she craved him like he craved her. That was why she'd suggested she move into his house, so he could have her anytime he wanted her, not just when he could steal a little time from work or when his wife was busy. Allie stroked him through his pants, grinning at the immediate hardening she felt. It had been this way since they met six months ago. She was at a BDSM club with her best friend when she'd seen him. He was standing apart from the others, stroking himself as he watched an intense scene between another Dom and his sub, and she'd watched him. Later, she asked a waitress who the man was, and she'd said he was a local Dom who came in with his wife submissive from time to time, but he didn't play with others unless his wife was with him. Allie remembered studying him after that, and before the night was up, she'd managed to get his attention. He'd let her suck him off, but that was all, telling her that he was married. The next evening, he'd plundered her sweet little pussy in front of everyone at the club, and she knew she had won.
When they pulled up in front of an enormous house, her mouth dropped open as she stared. He turned off the car, jumped out, and hurried to the passenger door, yanking it open and pulling her out of the car and into his arms. She moaned when his mouth took hers, and she pressed her lithe, slender body against his, her arms twining around his neck as she rubbed her hips against his arousal. She was wet and needed him fuck her soon or she would explode, so she moved her hips against his, sliding her leg up his and curving around his hip, pressing against his bulge.
"Oooh...Master," she murmured, her voice husky with desire, "your little cumslut needs you to fuck her so badly."
She turned, flipping the light switch and closing the door, vowing that she would not cry again. She was tired of crying, for she had cried all night and most of the day since her husband had returned home form work last night and announced that he had a slave he had been visiting for months now, and he was bringing her to live with them. Upon his casual announcement, as though he were announcing a business transaction, she'd dropped her fork, stunned by everything he'd said. He had looked at her with disapproval, and she hurried to pick up the utensil, wiping it of with her napkin, and continued eating, listening to his instructions to make up the large guest room. When dinner was finished, he had kissed her forehead and left, telling her that he would be sleeping at his slave's apartment to help her pack. He'd left her to pick up the dinner dishes and the pieces of her heart.
The woman went into her own room and glanced at the clock. Her husband and Allie, his slave, were to arrive in a few minutes, and she wanted to look her best. She was nervous, certain the slave was beautiful, for her husband had always preferred beautiful women, and Cara surveyed her own form in the mirror. At 43, she no longer had a youthful figure, but she had kept herself trim and healthy, something her husband used to compliment her about. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was thick and lustrous, with just a few strands of silver winking through, and her big green eyes were envied by man when she was in college. She had a pert nose and heart-shaped face, and her breasts were full and still had some bounce to them, although they had dropped just a bit. She lifted her shirt in the mirror and noted that her waist was trim, and her stomach had only the slightest curve to it, although her stomach showed the faint and distant lines of stretching to accommodate her pregnancy. Cara ran her fingers over the marks, her mind traveling to a time when she and her husband were young and excited about starting a family, but their dreams had been dashed when she'd miscarried. They had not been able to conceive again, and her husband would not entertain the idea of adoption, so they explored other interests, and he had soon found that he was a dominant and she a submissive.
She lowered her shirt and spritzed some body spray on to her arms and neck, wondering again why she was letting her husband do this. They hadn't talked about this, and they'd agreed on monogamy when they married; he'd vowed it! Even when they began exploring the Lifestyle, he had been faithful to her...or so she thought. He obviously had taken on a slave some time ago, and who knows if he'd had others. She turned abruptly, forcing her thoughts to other topics and walked downstairs, setting the table and taking the chicken out of the oven. It was a perfect golden brown.
The quiet rumble of her husband's Mercedes sounded, and Cara wiped her hands, her heart pounding as she went to the door to greet the duo. She could do this. She was strong. With a pasted smile on her face, she opened the front door, her smile faltering at the sight of her husband with his arms wrapped around the most beautiful young woman she had ever seen, the blonde girl plastered to him and bound in a lip lock filled with such heat and desire that the older woman stepped back, blushing. This was much worse than she'd ever imagined.
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Twenty-two-year-old Alison Marks could hardly believe her good luck. Here she was, a college drop-out moving into a mansion! Sure, she had to share it with some hag, but that wouldn't be for long. She smirked, watching her new master as he drove his Mercedes, and she felt a tug inside her pussy. God, she loved when this man fucked her. She couldn't get enough of him.
She reached over and slid her hand along his thigh, and she heard his faint chuckle. He knew what she wanted. He knew that she craved him like he craved her. That was why she'd suggested she move into his house, so he could have her anytime he wanted her, not just when he could steal a little time from work or when his wife was busy. Allie stroked him through his pants, grinning at the immediate hardening she felt. It had been this way since they met six months ago. She was at a BDSM club with her best friend when she'd seen him. He was standing apart from the others, stroking himself as he watched an intense scene between another Dom and his sub, and she'd watched him. Later, she asked a waitress who the man was, and she'd said he was a local Dom who came in with his wife submissive from time to time, but he didn't play with others unless his wife was with him. Allie remembered studying him after that, and before the night was up, she'd managed to get his attention. He'd let her suck him off, but that was all, telling her that he was married. The next evening, he'd plundered her sweet little pussy in front of everyone at the club, and she knew she had won.
When they pulled up in front of an enormous house, her mouth dropped open as she stared. He turned off the car, jumped out, and hurried to the passenger door, yanking it open and pulling her out of the car and into his arms. She moaned when his mouth took hers, and she pressed her lithe, slender body against his, her arms twining around his neck as she rubbed her hips against his arousal. She was wet and needed him fuck her soon or she would explode, so she moved her hips against his, sliding her leg up his and curving around his hip, pressing against his bulge.
"Oooh...Master," she murmured, her voice husky with desire, "your little cumslut needs you to fuck her so badly."