Posted on

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 2 Hot Fun In The Summertime

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 02 Hot Fun In The Summertime

“…end of the spring and here she comes back, hi, hi, hi, hi, there; them summer days, those summer days…”

The plan for Christine today was that she would ‘sit-in’ with the ‘crew’ and observe the kinds of tasks they normally did in-office; then around three-thirty or so she would go with the group back to the house they all lived in, which apparently was about a ten-minute drive away, and there she would find her clothes for the evening.

“We keep a few dozen evening dresses, even some formal gowns, as well as shoes and some under clothing right at the house, so the girls never need to run around looking for ‘what to wear’. We actually decide what you’ll wear, depending on the event and the time of year, etcetera. You’ll also get to see the house,” Gibbons had explained.

Despite already meeting all the crew, Christine was nervous as she arrived and entered the main room. The area she and the others worked in was past this main area and to the left of Gibbons’s office. Each girl had her own desk, typewriter -a new IBM Selectric- and telephone.

The small kitchen and the water cooler however was communal and all the staff used them. The kitchen was in a separate room next to the main office, with the washrooms next door to that.

The girl who had helped her yesterday smiled as Christine approached and held out her hand, “Arlene,” she said pleasantly and Christine gripped the hand and said “Hi there,” The girl of course already knew her name. “First day, good luck,” Arlene said as Christine moved past her and headed inside.

* * * *

Anne Kasey released the nipple she had been sucking on  and rested her head back on the pillow, looking into

Beverly’s eyes. “So, why do you want me to, uh, meet your mom?”

Beverly laughed, “What’s with the hairy eyeball? No big deal, hey? She’s horny, basically, and I like the idea of you turnin’ her on.” Beverly gave Anne a look. “And then she’d owe me a favor, and that never hurts.”

“Yeah, but doin’ a mom, shit, freaks me out, man.”

Beverly chuckled, “Yeah, yeah, I know she’s my mom, but she’s not old-old; she’s like in her mid forties. An’ she looks after herself. Plus, she’s not bad lookin’, hey. After all, she’s related to me, right.”

Anne snorted and returned to sucking Beverly’s breast, her hand now immersed in the foliage between her younger partner’s thighs.

* * * *

“Okay.” Gibbons looked around the table at the six attentive faces. “Everyone’s had a chance to look over their info?”

All the faces smiled and the heads nodded. It had been a busy first day for Christine. All the other women had spent time this week preparing a summary of information on Romania, with each one looking at some different aspect: exports, imports, history (very brief, this isn’t high school, Gibbons had cautioned) customs, etcetera. Just enough info so that they would not be completely clueless with the members of the delegation tonight.

Christine had been given time this morning to look over all the information and felt comfortable with it. She knew there would be at least three interpreters at the event, which was to be held in a conference room at the Churchill Hotel and would include cocktails and dessert-type foods; no meal.

The members of the Romanian delegation would be meeting personally with Director Silverberg Friday for talks; tonight was for the pleasantries.

As the meeting ended, Gibbons motioned for Christine to follow her and they went to the office Christine had already been in; it was just as crowded as the day before and Gibbons moved some folders off the chair Christine was to sit on, before plunking herself down behind her imposing desk.

“Okay, so I’m sure the gals have filled you in on the whole deal, hmmm?” Gibbons adjusted her spectacles and for a moment looked a little like an owl.

Not exactly certain what the ‘whole deal’ was, Christine smiled and confirmed that ‘the girls’ had told her what tonight was about and what was expected of her.

Gibbons nodded and adjusted her glasses, “The Director’s car will be at the house at seven-thirty, so you need to head back there after work; we’re shutting your group down before four. There’s a van that shuttles the crew back and forth and you’ll go with that and have a light meal at the house. We have a cook who does the dinners over there, nothing else, right? Okay, any questions?”

When Christine announced that she was good Gibbons beamed and shooed her out the door. When she went back to the crew’s room, she found all five women sitting around the table and chatting. The discussion ceased when she entered, although everyone seemed pleasant.

“Come and join us, kid,” Connie O’Hanlon offered and Christine smiled and sat down, looking around, before saying, “Okay, can I try going around the table with names?” She asked and then did that as everyone nodded and encouraged her, she needing only Margie’s last name of Taylor to complete the circle; general chatting followed this.

“So,” the tall (and beautiful, Christine said to herself again, looking at the face) Lana Gallo announced after a few minutes of this chit-chat, “it’s three-thirty, and we need to be ready to leave at four, and tomorrow we’re not in ‘til eleven, so make sure everything is packed away and locked.”

The crew set off to do just that.

* * * *

The large, black Cadillac cruised gently to a stop in front of the stocky, two-storey house that ‘the crew’ lived in. Christine, looking very attractive in her black evening dress, a light, dark shawl around her bare shoulders, her brunette tresses done up in a swirling mass atop her head, came down the stairs to find Douglas Silverberg standing beside the open rear door, his uniformed driver standing behind him.

Christine saw a tall, athletic looking man in his mid-forties, short, dark hair just greying at the temples, looking sharp in a dark suit with white shirt and black tie. He smiled at her as she descended and she felt a pleasant inner surge; he was definitely attractive, with his square jaw, high cheek bones and blues eyes.

“Miss Callister,” he said in greeting, his voice warm and mellow, with a hint of a southern accent that years in D.C. hadn’t quite removed.

“Director Silverberg, this is a pleasure,” Christine replied, extending a gloved hand and allowing herself to be guided into the vehicle’s rich interior with its dark, aromatic leather upholstery.

Once seated, the car moved off and Silverberg asked about Christine’s Pennsylvania roots and by the time the car arrived at the Churchill Hotel, the two were chatting like old friends.

* * * *

Anne Kasey, or Anna Kasyanov, if you had known her years back in Bucharest, after she settled there with her Russian parents, looked around and then moved through the revolving door and into the Clarence Hotel. She liked this hotel because the public pay phones were situated around a corner from the lobby, so there was some privacy.

She moved to the booth at the end and entered, noting the others were all vacant. After depositing her coin and dialling, she waited for the expected three rings, and then the voice answered, “Da.”

The conversation that followed was in Russian.

* * * *

Christine looked over at the ornate clock that stood against one wall in this elegantly decorated room and considered; it was eleven-thirty and the discussion earlier indicated that the event would be over not long after midnight. It had been pleasant enough so far; she had consumed one glass of champagne and two of ginger ale and had eaten some hors d’oeuvres, a few crackers with various dips and had even tried caviar for the first time in her life.

Too salty for her taste, although Mr. Silverberg had commented that she just needed to try some more.

She had visited with several members of the delegation, including one man who had patted her rear end twice. Connie had moved over and rescued her and then advised her on how to ‘pivot and shield’ so that you ‘protected your assets, but didn’t overtly offend’.

“That fellow with the beard there, has copped a feel of my boobs twice,” she noted, pointing out a tall, slim man who was at that moment pressing the much shorter Dolly into the corner of the bar, the back of his hand pushing into the woman’s left breast. “Off to the rescue,” Connie smiled, as she headed in that direction.

A tall and exotically good-looking, dark-haired woman, who had been introduced as Flori Hănescu, the only wife in the group, now moved over to stand beside Christine, bringing her a glass of wine. They had spoken earlier and right now it looked like her husband was deep in conversation with Silverberg’s top aide.

“Look at them, gabbing away, like they’re solving all the problems of the world,” Hănescu murmured in her heavy accent, smiling down at Christine. With her heels on, Christine did not need to look up much at many of the people in the room tonight, but she did look up at this woman, who was even taller than Lana, the tallest of their crew.

“Well, I think these talks can be important, don’t you Mrs. Hănescu; hope I’m saying that right?” Christine replied, catching a whiff of the perfume that the woman had on, and which was enticing. Christine thought for a moment to ask her what it was, but knew that was inappropriate.

Hănescu smiled, then said, “You are not married, Miss, um, Callister?”

Slightly taken aback by a personal question, Christine sipped her champagne, even though she did not really want any more to drink, “Um, no, I’m not. Uh, no,” she responded, awkwardly and then felt foolish, for whatever reason.

Hănescu now regarded her and Christine began to feel a little uncomfortable, locked as she was by the dark eyes of the woman. Suddenly, the woman’s long, slender hand reached out and gently caressed Christine’s bare, right arm, sending an amazing shock wave through her, that almost made her gasp.

The tall woman noted the response and smiled, then leaned forward, “How may I reach you?” She said.

“I, um, I’m not sure, uh…”

“I would just like to have lunch with you and chat about America with a small-town girl,” Hănescu smiled, but just then Douglas Silverberg moved to a prominent spot and held up his hand; the chatter quieting down in response.

* * * *

Virginia Silverberg had noted half an hour earlier the closing of Martha’s door. Since then, nothing, so she considered it safe to head down to the den; she preferred her ‘private moments’ in that room, rather than her bedroom; she wasn’t sure why.

Taking her glass of Canadian Club whiskey, she was heading down the hall to the room that sat at the end; Douglas’s office on one side, the den on the other, when there was a quiet rap on her front door. Thinking she was hearing things, Virginia paused, but then it came again. Someone was actually at her door this late in the evening.

She moved cautiously and peeked out to see a blonde, mid-twenties woman standing there. Virginia opened the door a little and asked, “May I help you?”

The woman smiled, “Hello, Virginia, I’m Anne, Beverly’s um, friend. She said if I dropped by you might scare me up a drink?”

Virginia moved back to allow the slim, attractive woman to enter and murmured, “Do you drink whiskey?” She smiled.

Anne stood, quickly appraising the older woman. “I drink anything that goes well with, pussy,” she replied with a smirk, putting her arm around Virginia’s shoulder; the women being the same height, about five-five.

“Well, that sounds like something I can handle, step into my, um, office,” Virginia smiled as she moved down the hall to the den, Anne Kasey’s arm now comfortably around her waist.

* * * *

“So I take it we’re headed back to the hotel you’re staying in, not the house?” Douglas Silverberg asked as they sat in the Cadillac.

“Yes, thank you Sir. Sorry for the bother.”

Silverberg gave the news to the driver and then turned to the young woman, “Oh, no bother, Miss Callister. Uh, how did the evening go for you? I saw you in conversation with a number of people.”

They chatted conversationally, both commenting on what had been a pleasant evening. As they approached Christine’s hotel, Silverberg murmured, “So, I know the crew goes in later tomorrow. Will you be meeting with Miss Gibbons to discuss your, position?”

Christine paused, her heart beating now with sudden anxiety. “Um, yes, I will be. Um…” They sat in silence as the car pulled to the curb.

Silverberg chuckled, “It’s just that we have a dinner event on Saturday and I will need a date again. Any thoughts on what you might decide?”

Christine looked into the handsome face and felt a distinct pull; this was an attractive man who had power, and someone she would like to spend more time with. “This has all happened so quickly, Sir, my head is spinning. I haven’t even discussed salary or, um, anything. But, I am excited with what’s happened so far. You’re in meetings tomorrow I hear?”

Silverberg nodded, then leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Christine’s cheek, “In case I don’t see you again.” He murmured, smiled and got out. Motioning for his driver to stay behind the wheel, Silverberg opened the other rear door.

Christine stepped out. “Thank you so much, Sir. This was lovely. I hope to, um, see you again. I do.”

Silverberg smiled a warm smile in response, one that lit up his blue eyes, his face illuminated now by the street light. Then he walked back around and climbed into the big car, and it drove away, with Christine standing and watching it.

* * * *

“Ooooo, oh, oh, mmmmm, damn, aaaahhhhhh…” Virginia moaned and then chuckled, keeping her voice low.

Anne propped herself up on one elbow and looked into the contented face from her position between Virginia’s thighs. “My pleasure, sweet Virginia. You’re the first mom I’ve like done, so; glad I made it happen, captain.”

Virginia chuckled again, then looked down at the shadowed face, “Will you be seeing Beverly, uh, later?”

“Mmmmmm,” Anne murmured, lighting her Newport Menthol and blowing the smoke over Virginia’s stomach, “maybe; we hang out at our friend Paul’s; he has a nicer television. But she usually comes back here, right? Now I’ve seen your digs, I know why.”

Virginia smiled, “Well, which ever one of us sees her first, we’ll make sure to thank her. This was great; for me anyway.”

“Hey,” Anne said, standing and doing up her jean’s zipper, the cigarette hanging from her mouth. “It was a slice, as we say.”

“Not, um, groovy?” Virginia smiled.

“Please Virginia, don’t be lame.”

They headed down the hall to the front doors, Anne turning with a smirk on her pretty face and a flick of her blonde hair; “It’s been a slice and a blast, babe; hey, keep on truckin’, mother…”

“Groovy.” Virginia dead-panned.

* * * *

Christine awoke with a start; her sleep had been restless, with strange dreams. She picked up her watch from the night stand and was able to make out the time; five-thirty. She sighed. She didn’t need to be in today until eleven; this promised to be a long day.

And then of course, there was the future.

* * * *

Virginia lay in bed as well, listening to the shower running. The main bathroom was between her room and Douglas’s; they hadn’t shared the same bedroom, let alone the same bed, in eighteen years, but she was very aware of his movements. She was always there to say goodbye when he headed off; she knew he had a busy day ahead, which was why he was showering at six-thirty.

* * * *

Miss Gibbons stirred her coffee, her mind going every which way as was usual with her; she looked up at the big clock over the fridge in the communal kitchen; seven-thirty. Damn! She thought; where does the time go? So much to do…

* * * *

Amanda Clark counted the portfolios again; fourteen, correct, and placed them on her boss’s desk just as Julia Sullivan, one of Douglas Silverberg’s two chief aides, came in. “The main conference room is ready, Amanda, I’ll take those in,” she said moving to the desk.

“How’d it go last night?” Clark asked.

“Oh, same old, same old; eating, drinking and playin’ nice. We’ll see what happens today, when things get down to brass tacks.” She smiled and adjusted her glasses, then picked up the stack of folders.

Clark nodded her head and then paused as she heard Silverberg’s voice from out in the corridor. She looked at the desk clock; eight o’clock.

* * * *

Christine awoke again with a start; she noticed light now glowing behind the drapes of her windows; she had drifted off again. She remembered, even as they were dissolving, the bits of dreams; Douglas Silverberg’s smiling face, and the face of Flori Hănescu, also smiling down at her, and then leaning forward for a kiss. A kiss! And there was the face of someone she hadn’t thought of for a while: Elizabeth Devers.

How odd…

Christine threw off the covers; it didn’t matter what time it was, she needed to get up and shower. If she had checked her wrist watch, she would have seen it showed eight-thirty.

* * * *

The two senators, one a democrat and the other a republican, sat on the ornamental park benches, back to back. The small park they were in was a ten-minute walk from the capitol proper, and early on a June morning, they had the place to themselves. “So, any more on what Laird has up his sleeve?” The democrat asked, referring to Secretary of Defense, Melvin Laird.

The republican snorted, “Besides getting the hell out of Vietnam you mean?”

The democrat rattled the newspaper he was pretending to read, “Well that’s the deal, isn’t it? Here we are waging a Goddamn war that’s costing millions and taking hundreds of American lives each week, supposedly to fight the ungodly communists, while we’re meeting with them here, eating and drinking like we’re best of friends. It stinks I say.”

The republican lit his pipe, the aromatic Cavendish floating to his companion. “You’re talking about the Romanians?”


“Well, Bill, that, as we say, is politics.”

* * * * 

When Christine, ten minutes early, entered the main office, Arlene immediately waved her over. After greetings, she handed Christine a note with two numbers on it, one from Silverberg’s aide Sullivan and one from Mrs. Hănescu, “But Miss Gibbons said to have you go in to see her as soon as you got here.”

“Thanks,” Christine said, heading through the door, her heart pounding and her mind racing. No one needed to remind her that today she was at a crossroads in her young life. She had just rapped once when Gibbon’s distinctive voice hailed her and she entered to the usual clutter, sitting on the one free chair.

“So, young lady, down to business, lots to do. Spoke with the boss and I know you need some info,” Gibbons began in her machine-gun method, with Christine simply sitting and taking it all in. “So, as for pay, the gals at level one make forty-two dollars a week before deductions, level two makes forty-eight. The gals in the crew make eighty-four, but of course their job is a lot more than typing, filing and answering phones, hey?”

Christine nodded, considering that her current job in Williamsport was paying her thirty-five a week.

“Now, as well of course, the crew lives rent-free in the house. You do some shopping, ‘cause we just provide a cook and she only does supper and it’s your food. Lana is in charge of the house, assigns rooms and collects money for the shopping and keeps an eye out. No gentlemen callers, absolute. You’re immediately fired if you have a man in there, that’s all she wrote folks. Now, any questions?”

The two women now just sat and regarded each other; Christine had questions, tons; that was the problem. What she asked was, “What, um, happens if I want to just accept the level that I applied for, one or two, or whatever the classified said?”

Gibbons regarded the young woman now with a mixture of concern, pity and scorn. “Sorry, kid, that boat’s sailed.”

“I, um, don’t get it…” Christine said quietly, anxiety rising and her heart beating more furiously, if that was possible.

“Well, it’s simple, sweetie, you’ve seen us, sat with us, been out with us. You know now what we earn, which we keep absolutely confidential. Like they say, you can’t go back.”

They sat in silence, before Gibbons took out a legal-size piece of paper. “This is the standard contract, one year, either side can give notice with thirty days, or less if mutually agreed.” She signed it. “I’ll leave it with you, but you can’t sit on it. I’m getting a coffee. When I get back, either the paper’s signed with your John Henry and you’re in the pit with the crew, or you’re headin’ back to your hotel, and back to Glen Ford or Falls….”

“Rock…” Christine said quietly.

“Or Rock.” Gibbons got up, picked up her cup and walked off.

Christine regarded the paper; was there really much choice? She wasn’t going home. She signed and dated the sheet; June twentieth, 1969.

When she entered the crew’s office, all five girls were sitting and looking at her. Lana smiled, “Welcome aboard.”

“But how, do you know?” Christine asked, amazed.

“’Cuz you’re here, chick. Can you dig it?” Dolly replied with a grin, then jumped up and began a dance, singing, “Hot fun in the summertime, hot fun in the summertime…” she sang out in her strong alto.

“And everything, it’s true, oh yeah,” Connie joined in, using her best Louis Armstrong gravel voice, as Margie clapped and did a little dance move and hip shimmy herself, with Lana and Gerry grinning at the reception. They both liked this newcomer.

Christine smiled; oh yeah, she said to herself.

It could definitely be some hot fun, or something, for her this summer.

That would turn out to be true.

(End of Chapter 02)

Posted on

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 1 Games People Play

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 1 Games People Play

“…look around tell me what you see, what’s happenin’ to you and me? God grant me the serenity to just remember who I am…

After taking the bus from her hotel and then walking the three blocks to this non-descript, four story brick building named simply House Annex Five, Christine Callister now marched down a long, polished hallway, glancing up at every door or two.

Although incredibly excited by simply being in this city (she had actually been able to see the White House as she walked along tenth avenue) she was still an efficient young woman who didn’t like it when there were problems, no matter the circumstances.

Right now, she was searching for room one-forty-four, and it made sense that it would be close to where she was standing, but the numbers before her ended at one-thirty. “K’n I hep you, Missy?” a voice asked from her right, and Christine turned to look down at a grey-haired and elderly, colored gentleman wearing a uniform of sorts; he smiled up at the attractive and smartly dressed brunette.

“Oh, uh, thank you so much. I can’t seem to find this room.” Christine showed the man the index card where she had listed the information: date, building name and address, room number and Miss Gibbons, the woman she was to have an interview with.

The man smiled, “Yessir, that’s the thang, y’see. T’aint no such number y’see, least not that y’all’d know, y’un’erstan’? Foller me, missy.”

And with that, the man shuffled off down an adjacent hallway, with Christine clacking along on the tiled floor in her high-heeled, black shoes. They came in a few moments to a door marked ‘DC’ in large letters, with a tiny number one-four-four at one corner of the door’s window.

“Here y’all be, young lady,” the man drawled, tipping his hat and Christine rummaged in her purse for a quarter which the man accepted with a smile. She watched the man shuffle back from whence he came and turned, straightening her back and setting her shoulders, then reaching for the doorknob.

Well, Christine, she thought to herself, this is it. She turned the knob and entered to the sound of typewriters clacking and the jangle of phones ringing.

Her new life was beginning.

* * * *

Virginia Silverberg adjusted the new air conditioning unit, thinking thank God for inventions. Washington in June was hot and humid and at times almost unbearable. Certainly the riots the year before had made some consider why they lived here. But the Silverberg’s luxurious Georgetown home had history, and also modern conveniences like color television and this new A.C. unit. Virginia sipped her tea and pondered that people like her husband Douglas, contracted (lucratively to be sure) to the government, had no choice but to live here.

Martha, their housekeeper, who looked very much like the German nanny one saw in World War II movies (but was actually from Louisiana) came quietly in to announce that there was a call; Miss Beverly, and she would be arriving around seven.

Late as usual, Virginia considered, but what could one do with the youth of today, with their drugs and hair and music? Virginia chuckled, considering that she could not sit in judgement, even of her own, child.

Not with the life she had led.

* * * *

After standing awkwardly and uncertainly just inside the doorway for a moment, Christine happened to catch the eye of one employee, the only non-white worker in the group it turned out (no males were currently in the room either) and the slender Puerto Rican girl put down her telephone receiver and came smiling broadly, “May I help you?” she asked with no hint of an accent.

“Oh, thank you. I have an appointment with Miss Gibbons,” Christine announced.

The girl moved back to her desk and looked at a sheet, asking. “Miss Callister?” and to Christine’s emphatic nod she motioned to follow her as she headed out one inside door and then through a short adjoining hallway to arrive and quickly stand outside another, inner office. The girl knocked, even though the door was ajar, and announced “Miss Callister,” then turned, and with her bright smile still in place, headed back to her desk amid the bustle of the common room.

Christine moved cautiously into this doorway and saw a modest-sized office containing several file cabinets, one large desk, one wall covered with bookcases and one small woman, her steel-grey hair in a classic bun, round spectacles on her nose, sitting behind the desk; several file folders were open before her.

The woman looked up and called, “Come in, come in, young lady, don’t stand a-gawkin’. Sit here. No wait…” she held up a delicate hand as Christine had begun moving toward the chair indicated.

“No, let’s have a look at you first. Okay, just stand, now turn slowly, yes, good, good.”

Feeling a little like a Galloway cow up for auction back in her home of Glen Rock, Christine turned slowly as Gibbons murmured in response. The older woman observed with approval a smartly and modestly attired young woman of twenty-four; five seven or so, long, dark brown hair with some curl in it (not straight like those horrid hippy-girls) and simple make-up and lipstick; a no-nonsense sort of small-town girl; this could prove interesting, but very attractive.

“Good, good, sit down, sit down,” Gibbons barked as she pulled out a file folder.

The next ten minutes were spent in rapid fire questions with Christine feeling like she was being grilled after a possible homicide. As abruptly as she began the session, however, Gibbons now stood and directed, “Stay here.” Then she was off at a brisk pace, leaving Christine to gaze absently around the crowded room.

* * * *

Douglas Silverberg slipped a Pall Mall from his pack just as Mrs. Clark poked her head in. Silverberg had hired Clark partly because of her excellent references, but also because she was a married woman in her late forties. He was around younger women enough that he needed someone more mature and stable to function as his personal secretary. Some believed his wife had influenced his decision, but nothing could have been further from the truth.

“Call for you, line three, Sir. He wouldn’t give any information,” Clark offered in her business-like way.

“Thank you, Mrs. C.,” Silverberg murmured, placing the cigarette in his mouth, pushing button three and picking up the black receiver. He was not surprised to find Clifford Eagleton on the other end.

No one was entirely sure if Eagleton was CIA but this being Washington, everyone assumed he was and just watched what they said. Silverberg had known the man longer than most however, and even he wasn’t certain if the man was (or wasn’t) a ‘spook’ as they say, but it didn’t matter. Everything Eagleton did smacked of covert, and he loved using Silverberg’s Department of Commerce crew for any number of things.

“How can I help you, Cliff?” Silverberg opened.

“Well, Douglas, why is it that you always think I’m calling to have you help me?”

“I don’t know Cliff, maybe ‘cause you usually are,” Silverberg smiled and then chuckled in response to Eagleton’s laugh.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? Your bunch makes a nice cover and I can trust you, so it’s a no-brainer.” The conversation that followed was not unusual. Eagleton would be placing a young man in Silverberg’s ‘crew’ who would eventually assist in a negotiation with South Korea; and when the man headed over to that country, he would begin providing Eagleton with information. Why, no one asked.

“Back story’s all in place now?” Silverberg asked.

“Everything’s good to go, sir, just keep the fellow away from all those young women of yours.”

Silverberg chuckled, “The ‘Mod Crew’ only buddies-up with clients, Cliff. You should know that.”

“Yeah right; hey, later my friend.”

“Roger that.” Silverberg hung up and lit his smoke, just as the ferret-like face of Agatha Gibbons now appeared at his door.

“May I speak with you, Sir?”

“Absolutely, Commander Aggie, enter.”

Gibbons stifled a smile as she came briskly to the side of her boss’s desk; he was the only one who dared tease her. She knew the girls all whispered ‘commander’ and worse behind her back, but Mr. Silverberg was the only one to say anything out loud.  

“I think we have a candidate for the sixth girl on the crew,” she announced.

A recent marriage had claimed Marilyn, and the vacant position had sat now for three weeks. The ‘Mod Crew’, called that by Silverberg and others because it consisted only of young, attractive women whose main purpose was hosting clients, even though they ostensibly worked in the commerce department, was unique and nothing about it, including vacant positions, was ever advertised.

Agatha Gibbons was the one in charge and only she recruited the potential crew members; individually and… personally.

Silverberg looked at the photo and background information sheet that Gibbons now lay before him. “Looks promising, Miss G. It’s your baby, you know that, and it’s your call. I know my place.” He shot her a quick smile.

“Thank you, sir. We have that event tomorrow night, correct?”

“Romanian delegation,” Silverberg nodded.

“That’s it. I would like to invite, um, Miss Callister here to attend and see what it’s like; then she can decide if she wants to try out the position.”

“Sounds like you have this all scoped out, as usual Commander.”

Gibbons snorted softly; she would never admit to enjoying her boss’s teasing, just as she would never give a hint of the feelings she had for him, how she would love to run her delicate hands through his short, thick, albeit greying, hair. “Thing is, Sir, she should probably be going as your companion.”

Silverberg grinned, considering the photo which showed a very attractive, young woman, “You know me, Aggie. Always prepared to take one for the team.”

Gibbons permitted herself a brief grin in response to this. “Fine. I’ll look after everything then.”

“You always do, my dear.” Silverberg said to the diminutive form as it bustled back out the door.

He then sat for a moment in contemplation. Working for the government, even on a contract basis, was unpleasant to a man of action like Silverberg, a man who had seen combat oversees in World War II; who had actually been on the beaches of Normandy as a twenty-one year old private.

But all this nonsense and ass-kissing had never been his thing; ‘politics is the art of the possible’, some wag had warned him his first year on Capitol Hill, now almost twenty years ago. What the hell that meant, he didn’t know. To him, politics was about people looking after number one while stabbing the next fellow in the back and covering their ass; always playing games.

Silverberg knew that was a more cynical view than many, and he still marveled at how he had stuck with the bull shit, all these years. Attending functions with a lovely, young woman by his side (his wife rarely attended these affairs) did make up for some of the more odious aspects of his, ‘politics’, however.

Tomorrow with the Romanians and then Saturday with the Koreans (Silverberg had just read the note on his calendar; this was a busy week with two events) would be a lot of smiling and promising, and hopefully a few large contracts signed, even if some of them needed to be ‘under the table’. And then his fat check would arrive as usual at the end of the month, and he and his wife could continue their lavish life style on the hill, for as long as he could hold his nose.

Silverberg stubbed out his smoke and called Virginia.

* * * *

Christine had checked the room out enough now and was beginning to consider getting up and looking at some of the books on the shelf when the energetic Miss Gibbons hurried back in, plunking her small frame down with a light thud and launching into her next bit of business.

“Okay, so here’s the deal my girl.”

Gibbons then spent several minutes explaining to Christine that this particular office, while dealing with trade, had three levels. The staff were part receptionist and part secretary; at least most of them were. However, six members of the office staff worked as a special group that assisted in all the entertaining of their world trade partners that accompanied ‘the business’ and all the negotiating.

Gibbons emphasized, twice, that the young women provided companionship to the mostly male members of the trade delegations at things like dinners, parties, gatherings and such but, “Nobody sleeps with anyone; the girls all live together in a house that we provide and that’s where you go home to, after the event. This is nothing like the Profumo affair.” Gibbons murmured darkly, referencing a name that was vaguely familiar to her youthful candidate.

Christine sat now frantically trying to process all of this information, which was completely news to her, when Gibbons mentioned about the Thursday party and the chance to consider the offer.

Then the woman stood, saying, “We should meet the crew,” and off they went to do just that, Christine still in something of a fog.

* * * *

Beverly Silverberg carefully grasped the ‘roach’ that her friend Anne passed to her, as it was almost finished, but the resourceful young woman was able to get one last drag out of it as her friend cheered her on. The third person lying naked on the bed, Paul, cheered too, although his eyes were closed and he wasn’t sure what he was cheering for.

Beverly leaned over Paul now, to blow the smoke out and into Anne’s mouth, before kissing her. They kissed several more times before Anne paused and reached down to flop Paul’s flaccid penis around, “Make it wake up, Paully,” Anne fake-whined and Beverly laughed.

“Sorry, ladies, my buddy’s done all tuckered out, thanks to you two,” Paully announced wearily.

“Even if we’re superrrr nice to it,” Anne purred as she took the member in her mouth.

“You can try, Annie-fanny, but it’s kinda like beatin’ a dead, you know, horse, yeah?” Paul smirked.

They all laughed.

* * * *

Christine lay in her hotel room bed; it was only nine o’clock, but she had decided to ‘hit the hay’ early; tomorrow promised to be a very busy day (and the night as well). But even though she was in bed promptly, she worried that she still would not get much sleep; it likely would be a restless night, there was just too much on her mind.

The names and the faces of the other girls in ‘the crew’ kept swimming through her mind.

Connie O’Hanlon (she was the buxom one); Delores, um Dolly, was she the petite red head? No…dark, but she was twenty-nine; Margie, what the devil was her last name? Christine could not come up with it but remembered Margie to be quiet with glasses and reddish blond hair; Geraldine (Gerry) Griffin was the easiest, as the woman was darker-skinned, mixed-race most likely; she was Christine’s height with hair in what people were calling an ‘Afro’ (Christine having learned that today; there were in fact few colored folks back in Glen Rock).

The final girl gave Christine an odd feeling when she recalled her; Lana Gallo. She was the tallest with what seemed like a good tan, but was probably simply a trait of her Italian heritage. The woman had striking and beautiful hazel eyes that held a twinkle, as if she were continually remembering a joke. And she was possibly the most attractive woman Christine had ever seen in her life; but then, coming from a small town, that wasn’t too big a feat; although there were the film magazines. And that was what Lana reminded Christine of, a movie star; she even had a movie star’s name.

Lana’s face was floating above her now, it seemed, smiling down. Her eyes were looking through Christine, seeing everything. Why would she be looking so intently at her, Christine wondered, as she drifted into sleep, a smile on her own plump lips.

* * * *

Agatha Gibbons lay on her bed, too, the day’s events playing themselves over in her mind as well. She felt positive about the new girl; very attractive and vivacious; she should do well.

Gibbons smiled a little, remembering their talk and the standard information she had ladled out. ‘Nobody sleeps with anyone’; what a laugh. This was Washington, for heaven’s sakes. Agatha herself hadn’t ‘slept with’ anyone in a long, long time, but she was pretty sure the lovely Miss Callister would be bent over a couch before too long, her lovely body ready to be pillaged by some diplomat or whatever.

Oh well, she’s young and sex was part of their game, she mused, beginning to feel drowsy herself.

* * * *

“So, anything new in your life, dear? We don’t see much of you,” Virginia asked her daughter as they sat in the family living room, dinner over (Beverly had finally arrived at eight); both women now with glasses of whiskey, a drink Virginia had taken to years ago.

Beverly turned her face, with its head of dark brown hair worn straight and parted in the middle, to her mother. There was always a languid manner to her movements, a sense of boredom, that the girl had cultivated. She knew it made her father crazy, most ‘older people’ in fact, and she liked that.

Beverly Silverberg had been more than your usual rebellious teen, and her parents, fearful of public gossip if not scandal, had sent her to France to complete her education; which she did, quite well in fact. She could be an excellent student if she chose, but after graduation the girl had just gone away, travelling Europe and even the far east, for two full years before she turned up back in Washington; older and different, but still irreverent and challenging.

She rarely spoke of those days and her parents didn’t pester; they were relieved that she was alive and apparently well, although her choice of friends did not inspire them. Her father now tended to avoid her rather than get into the disagreements that usually followed the two of them coming face to face. Doug Silverberg had no use for the anti-war protestors and others who seemed to disrespect America, and all of Beverly’s ‘friends’ seemed to fit that description.

Her mother on the other hand had her own reasons, and had cultivated this relationship, whether her daughter appeared bored with it or not. Beverly reminded her of herself, but where Virginia had settled into a domestic life, Beverly seemed determined to go a different way, and her mother was not bothered by that.

“Oh, you know, same old shit, ma,” Beverly droned.

Virginia shook her head. “No need playing the role, dear. No one here to impress but me, and I know you.”

“Do you, mother?” Beverly asked, then smiled and sat up. “But how about you, life’s good? You sitting at home while Papa does his thing, a girl on each arm?”

Virginia smiled. “He never has a girl on each arm, dear.”

Beverly paused, considering, then asked, “No new girl for you?” Virginia was not taken aback by this question; even though she had never discussed her sexuality with her daughter; something told her that her daughter knew. “I could hook you up with my pal, Anne. She’s, you know, a gate.”


“Swings both ways,” Beverly chuckled and Virginia smiled.

Virginia now pondered for a moment. “Do you…have sex with her?” She asked, strangely not bothered by where this discussion was going.

Beverly smiled, wondering what her mother was up to and feeling it might be time to start having some fun. “Of course, but it’s usually with a guy there, too. It’s not total lez-city, if you can dig it?”

Virginia smiled again at her very attractive daughter, thinking that she actually wouldn’t mind meeting this Anne, as long as she wasn’t too much of a pot-head. “Oh, I think I can dig it just fine, my girl.”

They sat for a moment, studying each other, then Beverly stood, and, languid as always, removed her clothing to stand naked before her mother. “Interested in a piece of this, mother darling?” Beverly crooned.

Virginia sat quietly, noting that her daughter had a lovely body. She noted the modest but perky breasts with their thick brown nipples jutting out from two tiny brown areolas; the slim, almost muscular frame with the flat tummy rounding out to full hips. She also noted the thick, wild tangle of dark brown hair that covered Beverly’s crotch and spread up toward her navel.

Virginia’s own hair, top and bottom, was a much lighter color and texture; Beverly would clearly be regarded as having inherited the darker, Silverberg look.

As Virginia was gazing, Beverly smirked and turned, bending forward slightly so her mother could see how the tangle of thick hair spread up her ass. “Anne says I should shave this, what do you think, ma?”

Virginia held her smile; she did not find this unpleasant; perhaps a little awkward; she would never tire of viewing a nice female ass. “Well, I’ll answer the second question, and I agree with Anne; shave the back, it makes anal intercourse easier. As for whether I want a piece, I can say, no. You have a wonderful body, I knew that already, dear, but I have no desire to be intimate with my, daughter.”

Beverly smirked again, looked back, tossed her clothing over her shoulder and moved, languidly, up the staircase, aware that her mother’s eyes were focused on her buttocks; she smiled at that. We’ll see, Mother, she thought.

Virginia sat, pondering, as she watched the naked body move up the stairs and away; she didn’t feel desire, at least nothing overwhelming, which was good, in many ways.

But Beverly’s little show had made the point to Virginia that it had been a long time since she had…done anything.

Too long for sure.

* * * *

In her hotel, for some reason, lyrics came to

Christine’s mind. ‘Whoa the games people play now, every night and every day now, never meanin’ what they say now, never sayin’ what they mean’…

Cynics would have said to her, welcome to Washington.

(End of Chapter 1)

Posted on

A House of Slaves by LongDarkRoad Chapter 30 A World of Slaves

A House of Slaves 

Chapter 30 A World of Slaves (It’s my home)

…the hourglass is but a thing, it is we who are of sand. Yet, we toil and grind upon this barren land; while above us there is sky…if you have wings, then fly…


“I want you inside me, I know that. I want to please you, mmm, I need to please you. I’ve missed that, I really have. This is not about anything else, or…anyone else, anymore; this is about…me with you.”

They kissed gently again.

Hollins nodded, considering; no, it wasn’t about Aquina anymore, and hadn’t been in a while, but that relationship had needed to run its course.

“Well, you were a good slave to send the texts as directed. You’ve considered, as I advised before you left, about my thoughts to you earlier,” Hollins said, looking into Claire’s eyes.

Claire paused. “I have done what you’ve said. It was the right thing for me to come and decide on things, and I’ve, um, thought about you every day. Every freakin’ day, no lie, Mistress. That’s why I begged you to come down. It’s so crazy, what I feel. I can’t go on like…this.”

She paused to reach up and suck one of Hollins’s large, brown nipples, then sighed, saying “I need to be with you, I …ooooohhh.”

Hollins, wearing a medium-sized phallus, had entered her easily, Claire’s pussy actually oozing ‘juices’. “Ooooohhhh, God, yes, yes, yes, fuck me Mistress, fuck your slave please, oh Jesus, Jesus, I’ve missed having you inside me.” And Claire wrapped her legs around the woman.

A door had been opened for her, surprisingly by her lovely partner as it turned out, and Claire had passed through it and was now somewhere else.

It’s all about needs in the end, and maybe we’re all slaves, to something or someone.


Twenty minutes later the two women lay contented, side by side. Claire pressed her face against Hollins’s ample breast, emotions surging within her. “I don’t know, exactly, what to do next, Mistress, but I know what I want. I think, every day, about you fucking me as people watch us, knowing I’m your slave. I dream about you taking me out, on my leash. I…need it.” She paused, kissing the woman’s face. “Why is love so messed up?”

Hollins smiled, kissing Claire’s mouth in return. “Well, it’s really more about desire than love, to me, my slave, but we’ll clear things up today. I want you as my slave; it’s as simple as that. I too know what I want,” she smiled. “But do you want to be my slave, full-time? To live with me?”

Claire grimaced and then hugged the woman, burying her face in the warmth of her neck, murmuring, “Oh God yes, more than anything. I can’t believe it. I need to be with you,” she repeated, pressing herself against the voluptuous body.

Hollins smiled. “Good. You’ll come back with me now to my hotel. I think your…roommate, mentioned to me she has someone to meet tonight.” She paused and gently stroked the lovely face. “But right now, we should go and unhook that friend of yours. I want to see her eating your pussy, then mine, like the slave she is, before we go.” Claire smiled, as they stood. “But first, slave, we need to do this,” Hollins nodded toward the bathroom, removing her harness.

They went into the ensuite and then into the shower stall, Claire immediately going to her knees, hands behind her back. “What do you need, Slave?” Hollins asked, softly.

Claire shook her head in wonder; if someone had said, even a year ago that this would be happening, she would have called them crazy. “Please, mmm, oh fuck, please mistress, please piss on your s-slave.”


Claire bent down so her face was on the tiles, moaning softly. “I need to serve you, oh Jesus, Jesus. I am your dirty slave.” She looked up, “I just wish there were people here to see this, to see me serving you, Mistress.”

Hollins reached out and squeezed a nipple, then slapped each breast hard. “You are my bitch?”

“I am your bitch, totally.”

Hollins sighed. “You know, I will put my name on you? I’ll have you marked, probably some rings as well, although your pussy pleases me as is.” She rubbed her toes against the puffy labia. “But there will be no doubt you are my property.”

Claire smiled and murmured, “I want your name on me, Mistress. I do.”

“Do you deserve this?” Hollins asked quietly.

“Yes, I do,” Claire whispered, closing her eyes and smiling, secure in her identity.

Hollins then squatted down and covered her slave’s breasts with her urine.

****               ****               ****

It was now past noon and Aquina and Claire, who had just returned from Candace Hollins and was still wearing her slave collar, sat in silence at their kitchen table. The night with her mistress had been satisfying once again and left no doubts in Claire’s mind as to what she wanted; but there was still this quiet sadness at the end.

Claire dabbed her eyes with a tissue and then got up and moved away to the window; a slice of ocean could be seen beyond the high-rises. She just stood looking out at it, as the unhappiness drifted over her, with her knowing it would soon pass. Her mistress had plans for her tonight.

Quietly, Aquina came to stand behind her and hold her. “It is what it is, love, for both of us,” she murmured.

Claire turned and hugged her friend. “God, A, this is crazy. I still care for you, you know that. It’s just that I, um, belong to Miss Hollins now. I can’t explain it. I’m hers, I’m like her possession. I want to be with her, no, I need to be with her…”

Aquina chuckled softly, “Listen to me, kid. Don’t try to understand it or explain it. I get it.” She paused. “You know, I was with, um, Mistress Shareen last night,” Aquina murmured, remembering the emotional reunion, still so fresh in her mind; she had in fact only returned herself half an hour before Claire.

Claire nodded, somehow Miss Hollins had known that, and had told her as they lay in bed, which made this parting slightly easier. “So, even after what she did to you, A?”

Aquina shrugged. “That really wasn’t her; we both wanted something, it just turned out to be more extreme  than what we were expecting. We’ve learned.” She smiled, “So, you and I will be with who we need to be with. It’s just the way things are; I’m not what you need and you’re not what I need, in the end, no matter what we feel for each other.”

Claire kissed the woman tenderly, if briefly. Aquina took the lovely face in her hands, “You are, you’ll always be, the most lovely thing in my life.” They embraced for a moment, Aquina murmuring, “It’s funny, but my mistress and Miss Hollins know each other. They’ve both been invited to a private slave event in Washington, in a few weeks. So we’ll be seeing each other again, but on our knees.”

Claire smiled at that, then looked at her…friend. “I’ve signed a thirty-day slave contract, right. We’ll stay here, I’ll finish up with Sanders, and then the plan is for Miss Hollins to move to New York, with um, Grant and uh, me.” She looked away.

Aquina nodded. “Grant’s her black, male lover, the man whose cock you were serving regularly before we left?” Aquina smiled.

“How’d you…?” Claire asked then nodded. Of course Aquina and her mistress had been in touch. “Yeah, I have sex with him when Miss Hollins tells me to, usually when he’s having sex with her, too. He’s not too big and he feels really good inside me, no porn dicks,” she made a face, then said quietly, “And I love her watching me with him.”

“Yeah, I can tell you like it, from the shots Hollins sent me,” Aquina murmured, amazed how even this conversation still caused her some mild arousal.

Claire nodded and sighed, “I’m good with it, A, more than good, really.” She reached up and touched her collar, smiled and continued, “Her friends like to watch him fuck me and I like them to watch.” She looked at Aquina and grinned, the shy, uncertain Claire now long and forever gone.

She thought then of the last time with Grant, when Hollins and her group of women had ordered her to stand naked in front of the large, main window that faced the road in front of Hollins’s apartment. Grant then fucked her from behind, with her pressed against the glass. Several people passing by had actually stopped to watch them, the unit being on the third floor. Claire had come ‘like an explosion’ she’d said to her mistress, ‘it was so hot’.

“And I um, swallow for him, something I never did for Sanders,” she murmured, amazed at her memory of the first time, and how erotically disgusting it was. She looked into Aquina’s eyes, “And of course, there’s anal. It’s, um, well…” She paused, considering, “You did pretty much push me into…all this, hey? There was a time, you know, when I didn’t do any sex, and I didn’t know a mistress from a minister. Sanders had to instruct me on how to suck a cock properly, remember,” she snuffed.

Aquina sighed and looked away. “Maybe. Well, yes, although I had no idea how you’d react, sweets; then things, mmm, happened.”

She reached over and caressed the lovely face. “But I’ve known in the back of my mind, Claire, that you’d need to leave.”

She smiled in memory. “Ever since that morning in the restaurant, as you sat with your coat open and your lovely tits exposed; I saw the way you looked at Hollins with, devotion. I knew that look. I’ve had it on my own face, but, we needed to come here, for us, well, for me certainly, to be sure.”

She gently shook her head, “But I think it was actually Sanders who started you on this path. He was the one who got you watching porn, girl, like you said,” she smiled.

They looked at each other for a long moment. “So what was all that, A, with you watching? Why didn’t you try to just be my mistress?”

Aquina sighed again. “I, um, it’s weird,” she chuckled. “That first time in the restaurant, with Bobbi, was cool, having you dress that way and everything. But, I don’t know, I just didn’t want that with you. It was great, just bitchin’ great, to be with you as two loving women, no master, no slave, just the two of us…”


Aquina looked into Claire’s eyes, “I was fighting it, my, um, need. So, you were kind of being me, a slave, when I couldn’t, like, commit again to being one.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Before I had come to a decision, about what I really wanted, I needed to use you, to have you be abused. I care for you so much, God. I felt what you felt, or at least, I was being tortured, abused in a way, and it showed me, clearly, that I was in…denial.”

She paused again and sighed deeply, then chuckled, “And then I could see how you actually wanted it, everything that was being done to you. Jesus, Claire, I had thought you were a submissive, but you are way more than that. Damn. And the thing with Hollins…”

Aquina looked off, considering. “She kept me informed, of course, sent me shots of everything. It was so fucking hot, and I kinda knew there would be no us long-term, hey. But I had to bring you here, then contact my…mistress. I needed to come right to the edge of the cliff, to have the decision staring me in the face, to know, for both of us; that this was the way it had to be.”

Claire nodded her head gently and sighed herself. “I need to go,” she said quietly, “my mistress is waiting.”

Aquina nodded, touching Claire’s hand, and then the woman left.


In Denver, Cynthia Scheffley lifted Melissa’s face up from between her thighs. “This is interesting,” she murmured to her slave, who had the day before agreed to a new six-month slave contract. “We’re going to a mistress event late next month, some of my friends and their slaves, and it looks like…Aquina will be there.”

She smiled and Melissa smiled too. “And I’m sure you’ll get a chance to spend some time with each other’s pussies, because she’ll be there as a slave, too.”

Melissa grinned; life was strange…but cool.


Kate and Anna were sitting in the living room; it was a quiet Sunday. Mindi was working now at a restaurant, and Eric had taken Kevin for some physio. The man was much improved, though still on desk duty. Adam had decided to go in to finish off some things and be ready for Monday.

So the two women had some time, together, which happened rarely. “I, mmm, saw Aquina a while back,” Kate said quietly.

Anna came and sat beside her, touching Kate’s face. “When?” she asked, excitement showing, and Kate told her about her ‘session’. Neither woman had ever spoken of either Brandon or Jake, even after Kate had made her prison visit; in fact their names were never mentioned in the house, even by Brandon’s brother. Aquina’s name, however, had come up several times.

“It was weird, but I needed to see her, and, like be with her. And it was, good. Um, really good,” Kate smiled. It had been, and she felt no guilt afterwards.

Anna sighed, “I would love to see…her again. Is that, um, bad, ‘cuz of what I have with Adam?”

Kate sighed, “Our, um, mistress, will always be a part of my life, and yours, I’m guessing. I don’t think it has anything to do with Eric or Adam or anything; it’s just us.”

Anna smiled, considering what her life now was and might have been.

It would be a couple of hours before ‘the boys’ or Adam would return. She leaned forward and kissed Kate softly, then more deeply. Kate stood and held out her hand, then led Anna upstairs.


In Miami, after Claire had left, Aquina went to the bureau and took out a document; it was also a slave contract; hers, and it was for one full year, signed last night as she kissed her mistress’s feet, after several hours of punishment and pleasure, including time with a young woman Macgregor had with her.

Aquina read the document again and touched her shaved labia; while Hollins had done this on their first session, Aquina had kept it clear, knowing Macgregor’s preference.

They had reached an agreement where Aquina kept her savings in her Cayman accounts, but gave up her identification, credit cards and daily banking to her mistress, for the year, being totally under the woman’s control. And since Aquina actually had few personal possessions besides clothes (no furniture at all, not even her own bed, for example) moving in with her mistress would be easy (and she wouldn’t, as her mistress noted, be needing many of her clothes).

She had agreed to being loaned out, or rented as her mistress wished. The name ‘Shareen’ would be added to her other tattoo, and a second nipple ring would be added, as well as a labia ring. One year as a slave, and then they would decide about the future. But the present was clear; being here with Claire had been the final, necessary step.

“I love you,” Aquina had whispered, her voice choked, against the side of Shareen’s face, “and I belong to you, completely.”

It was true, and once she had uttered those words, she felt an amazing sense of peace descend upon her.


Aquina’s cell now chimed a message, and when she looked at the sender, that old, familiar surge rose within her, her own amazing ‘Old Faithful’, and there was no need to fight it.

“Slave,” it said, simply.

With a soft groan Aquina sank to her knees, and as she replied “Yes Mistress”, her world, once again, was complete; Harriett Smith’s face came to her mind, so clearly. She had indeed come home.

She stood and headed for the door; like Hollins, Macgregor had plans for her slave.

****               ****               ****

Six weeks later; Washington D.C.

The evening was winding down; it had been a success.

Cynthia Scheffley, Shareen Macgregor and Candace Hollins all sat relaxed, drinking wine, watching their slaves perform.

The slave event had seen sixteen owners (six couples and four singles) and twelve slaves enjoy an evening of sexual entertainment and participation, including bondage and discipline, with of course plenty in the way of quality food and drink.

Macgregor and Hollins, with a knowing exchange of glances, had had their slaves make love to each other for their amusement early on, before going off on their own. “It’s so good to see you,” Aquina had whispered to Claire, as they shared a two-headed dildo.

After several minutes of that, they were allowed to kiss gently for a few moments, and Claire looked at Aquina’s new tat, a quarter-sized heart with ‘SM’ in the middle, an inch from her right labia. Aquina then noted that Claire had a ‘Slave Registration’ number tattooed on her throat and a small, silver labia ring.

“I’ve signed a one year slave contract,” Claire had replied quietly as Aquina checked out the other two tattoos Claire now sported; a ‘CH’ directly above the tip of her labia, and ‘SLAVE’ on one breast. “My mistress also has planted a chip in me, so I won’t get lost,” she smiled and Aquina sighed at her loveliness, then pushed Claire flat and lowered her torso down to the waiting mouth, her eyes on her mistress’s smiling face.

Aquina had also spent some time with a happy Melissa, with Scheffley making a point by having her girl aggressively fuck Aquina anally while spanking her ass with a hair brush as the group watched. It was fitting and ironic, and turned Aquina on.

But now things were winding down. “I would say our girls are the most beautiful of the bunch, wouldn’t you?” Scheffley murmured now, smiling as her Chardonnay was topped up by a naked server.

Hollins nodded, “They’ve received the most attention, Cynthia,” she said with a nod.

All three slaves were at that moment kneeling, heads close to each other, and being fucked dog-style by men. The three owners had asked for the interested masters to wait until the end as a ‘closing’ treat for themselves. This would be the final sex activity of the night and they would all soon be heading back to their hotels.

“What say we swap for tonight, ladies, I’ll take Candace’s girl, you Shareen take mine and Candace can have yours?” Scheffley suggested.

The ladies nodded, “I’m good with that, Cynthia,” Macgregor said, “We can meet up in the morning before we head off, and reclaim our…property.”

Everyone chuckled and Hollins added, “I’m thinking it’s mostly just sleeping anyway for us, after tonight,” she winked. She was feeling satisfied, although she would likely punish Aquina a little; she enjoyed that for whatever reason, likely because of Claire.

They watched now as the man with Claire stood, removed his condom and ejaculated into her open mouth and on her face, with the slave then sharing this gooey gift with Melissa beside her. Melissa’s man had just pulled out as well, without leaving a gift, apparently ‘running out of steam’ but smiling none-the-less, as his female partner came to him and they both wandered off to find his clothes.

Aquina’s man then pulled out and came on her round ass, with her two slave companions cleaning her off, their eyes on their mistress’s, who smiled in return.

After that man left, the three slaves simply lay together, stroking each other and awaiting commands.

“What are your plans, going forward, for your slaves, ladies?” Hollins asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Scheffley replied and Macgregor looked at the woman with curiosity.

“Wellll, I’ve never kept anyone for too, too long; I don’t know. Is this a happily-ever-after thing for you gals?”

Macgregor shrugged, considering her house-keeper slave, then Deirdre, who had worked out very well, and of course, Aquina, “Well, I’ve got three slaves right now, but my main girl here is working with a pro stripper, and I’m going to have her in a Miami club soon, earning me some dough for a while. How far down the road you lookin’, girl? Remember, we do have our contracts.” She paused, thoughtfully, “And, well, I’ll admit that this one’s special, for me.”

Scheffley smiled, “I’m a little like you, Candace, use ‘em hard and turn ‘em loose, but I’m also like Shareen, as Melissa is special, to me, I will admit that to you.” She paused, “I know I’ve broken the mistress’s command, thou shalt not care too deeply. I do. You don’t?”

Hollins sipped some wine and then paused as the last of the finger foods made a round; bacon-wrapped chestnuts this time. She savored one as she considered. “Don’t get me wrong, I am moved by Claire. She is such a rare combination of beauty and submission. It’s amazing. And she does everything I tell her to do, no doubt. Everything. But, I know, mmm, myself. Everything has a shelf life with me, contract or not. I try not to dwell on it too much, but it’s there, back of my mind.”

Scheffley spoke briefly with one of the event assistants and the girl then went to the three slave women and had them kneel, facing away with their backs arched so their asses were on display. She then began to whip them with a leather flogger.

“I like to end things with some discipline,” Scheffley said, “reminds ‘em of their place,” she added.

The three mistresses then sat and watched as their slaves accepted their punishment. Scheffley then spoke, “I know what you mean Candace, but what would you do with your girl? You can’t just turn her out on the street.”

Hollins sighed. “Well, I could,” she smiled, “but, I’d sell her, most likely. Well, very likely.” The two women turned to her and she laughed. “Don’t give me that look, like the two of you have never sold anyone.” The two women exchanged a look. Hollins continued. “No, I know a man, Doukas, you’ve heard of him?”

“Louis Doukas, of course I’ve heard of him,” Scheffley smiled. “He’s been to our acreage. He and my Donald have done business. But why him?”

Hollins shrugged, “Not totally sure, but he has connections in Europe, the more unpleasant parts. I bought a trafficked girl from him two years ago. White and beautiful and very young. I used her so hard I amazed myself. But, I just like the idea of my lovely blonde being sold to some sketchy gun lord in Eastern Europe. Croatia, I’m thinking, and I know Doukas could do that. Maybe even an exchange, one for one.”

“What the hell?” Macgregor asked, eyebrows raised. “Why go that route?”

Hollins nodded to the assistant as she looked over and then the woman left, the three slaves and their asses still on display and now well-reddened. “Mmmm, not sure, I just wouldn’t want some comfy, little, old, lady lesbian in Newark to own her. I’d want it to be far less pleasant than with me, so she’d think back with fondness of our time.”

She looked at her companions and laughed again at the looks on their faces. “C’mon, ladies. They are slaves, after all.”

Scheffley tilted her head, “Call me first, Candace, before you do anything. Please. I mean that; it will be worth your while. I wouldn’t want your beautiful blonde tossed to some Eastern European wolves.”

Hollins nodded, a smirk on her attractive face. “Hey, I’ve got no plans for right now, so no worries. I intend to use my lovely slave lots more, believe me. Lots. My group of gal pals would shoot me; they can’t get enough of her. Or Grant. I think he’s fallen for her, actually. Men.” She shook her dark tresses.

They all smiled then as ‘What A Wonderful World’ began playing through the speakers, signalling the official end of the evening. The three slave women turned on their hands and knees and began their crawl to where Hollins, Macgregor and Scheffley sat.

…skies of blue and clouds of white, the bright blessed day, the dark sacred night…

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being part of this event. Good night, and Madame White will be in touch.”

…what a wonderful world.

(End of Chapter 30)

End of Book II

A House of Slaves

From The Chronicles of LongDarkRoad by

(Lawrence W Taylor)

Posted on

A House of Slaves by LongDarkRoad Chapter 29 Decisions & Regrets

A House of Slaves 

Chapter 29 Decisions And Regrets (I am your bitch)

And so it had progressed to this, Aquina’s second time with Miss Hollins.

She had needed to take this step; as arousing as watching and hearing about Claire’s abuse was to her, she had needed, now, to taste some herself.

The first session, a week ago, where the woman had shaved her (and she had then sent her photo to her mistress) had been satisfying but brief, and so a second day had been planned; a much more intense day.

She was sitting now on a straight-backed chair, her buttocks and pussy still stinging from her recent session with the woman, who punished her as an interested Claire watched.

And with a ball-gag now in place and her arms tied at the elbows, forcing her breasts out, Aquina would endure a torture of a different kind, as she would be forced to actually watch (and listen) as Claire and Hollins made love.

The script had been decided upon, with Claire of course doing as she was told; but for this scenario she needed no direction at all.

Right now the two women were kissing passionately, Claire licking and sucking Hollins’s tongue as the woman fingered her aggressively; Claire’s legs were spread wide so Aquina could see what was happening.

“What are you?” Hollins asked and Aquina felt a stab as Claire replied, “I am a slave.”

“Who do you belong to, bitch?”

“I belong to you, Mistress, I am yours,” Claire said easily and kissed the woman’s throat and face and sucked on her nipples. This being now their fifth time together, Claire did not need to pretend what she felt for this woman.

Hollins pushed the slave roughly back on the bed and spread her legs, slapping her pussy. “What do you want, slave, beg for it.”

“Mmmm,” Claire sighed, before she spread her labia with both hands. “Fuck me, Mistress, mmm, please fuck me,” she moaned as Hollins now slowly forced a thick dildo into her very wet vagina. With both their legs now spread, Aquina could clearly see the dark phallus enter and move; it was incredibly delicious torment, especially knowing how aroused Claire was and that this was not an act for Aquina’s, or anyone’s, benefit.

After a few minutes, the blonde woman was placed on her knees, facing Aquina, and Hollins mounted her from behind, her eyes focused on the woman tied to the chair. Then, after a few minutes of this action, Claire was moved again, to a reverse cowgirl position, where Aquina could see the glistening phallus as it moved in and out of her lover’s pussy, as well as the clear passion as Claire arched her back and then turned her head to kiss Hollins with desire.

Aquina moaned now as she watched Hollins stand and take Claire from the bed. She then took a black marker and wrote something on the woman’s pelvis, then brought her  to stand in front of Aquina. Hollins removed the gag and asked the bound woman to read what was written. “Property of Candace Hollins,” Aquina murmured hoarsely.

Hollins kissed Aquina’s mouth, then spit into it. “That’s right,” she smiled and put the ball-gag back in and led Claire into the other bedroom, both looking back, Hollins winking and Claire blowing a kiss, before closing the door.

Aquina sat in wonderful agony, again not asking herself why she did this, why she wanted this, or needed this; she had tried to be something else, but here she was.

Some things just are and cannot be explained, and she needed to serve a mistress it seemed, one way or another.


The iron gate clanged shut behind Aquina once again,

but this time it was different, as she was now heading out, and it would be a while, probably a long while, before she would be back. So she had come this time to say goodbye.

She said a little prayer for Brandon as she walked down the hall, her footsteps echoing. She hoped he could hold on; both his lawyer and Adam doubted he would serve the full seven years. Their guess was maybe four, and he had been credited with double time served, so he had some months in already.

Sanders had promised Aquina that he would find Brandon a spot in his organization once he was out; loyalty had value. And Aquina had made her promise too; she would be there, and she kept her promises.


Meredith Delmare was preparing the bath and the temperature of the water was important. She was naked as she did this task and two labia rings could now be seen from behind, dangling from her fat nether lips between her spread legs. As well as the rings placed there by her mistress, Miss Sandy, the woman’s initials, ST, now sat just to the right of the word ‘slave’, the horror left behind by the monster slowly receding.

Meredith had tried to make it work with Jessie but it hadn’t, and they both agreed with the fact that they were not meant to be. But all had not been a loss, as in time nurse Sandy had approached her as a follow-up to their little ‘moment’, inviting Meredith back to her home, ‘to explore her tattoo’.

A week later Meredith moved in and now lived there with the woman, who she called Miss Sandy, with respect. A woman who surprisingly gave the younger woman a certain emotional foundation. One never knows with decisions.

The bath she was now preparing was for Miss Sandy, and she was positioned as she was, on her knees, displaying the two rings, as the woman had ordered that. But then, she was always naked in the house any way.

It was the way Miss Sandy liked her to be.

If the slave was worthy, the woman might invite her into the bath and allow her to wash her. “Ah, my girl, is all prepared?” Miss Sandy asked from the doorway.

“Yes, my mistress,” was the reply, as Meredith remained on her knees, arching her back a little more.

Miss Sandy tested the water. “Perfect, dear slave,” she smiled at her young servant, and a wonderful smile then spread across Meredith’s face in response, as the woman took her hand and brought her into the tub.


It was late fall, and a light dusting of snow had fallen the day before. Today, however, the sky was a brilliant and cloudless blue. Aquina put on her sun glasses as she walked across the parking lot toward her car. Opening it she slid in, then looked at the person in the passenger seat.

“So, you going to tell me what you’re up to,” Claire asked, her blonde hair shining with the sunlight?

Aquina paused for a moment, remembering.


(Miami, September 2003)

“But why?” Aquina persisted. Sanders looked tired; there was no joking or banter today.

“Aquina, I’ve thought this through. It’s the way ‘dat makes sense. You need a chance, and ‘dat chance comes if you get an education.”

“I can already read…” she countered.

“I know. I know. And ‘dat’s the incredible part; youse did ‘dat on your own. But now youse needs real school. Real teachers. And I won’t be far away. I’ll always be there, babe. Ya’ know ‘dat, right?”

And so it had been the end for Aquina in Miami, and even though the place had its share of bad memories, it was her birth place, and she had vowed to return

Some day.

But on her own terms; and now seemed like as good a time as any.


“Well, I’ve spoken with Sanders, about his new Miami project. You know all about it, of course.”

Claire nodded, looking away. Along with her time with Miss Hollins, Claire still went in part-time for Sanders, as he now spent more time out of the city, preparing for the move. “Yes, I know about it; I’ve even seen it,” Claire replied, glancing at her ‘partner’.

“Miss Hollins hasn’t kept you too busy?” Aquina said, a smile on her lips.

Claire sighed, and it was interesting, she considered, that once she would have been happy serving Aquina, or imagined she would have, after their relationship began to change. But the woman had not wanted that (and it had been discussed at length) but it had now become something else, for both. It was too late for consideration now. She was happy that Sanders was flexible, but the job, with him not there, was pretty boring.

And bottom line, while Claire had been surprised at first by how much she enjoyed, and looked forward to, serving Miss Hollins, now it was simply desire.

She wondered that Aquina hadn’t seemed to see how things had progressed; or had, and let it go. But certainly the session last weekend with her mistress should have made it clear how deep the relationship with Hollins had become, even as they carried on, still being together, in a way; but for how much longer?

Aquina looked out her window as well; she and her lover now at a place that seemed…so strange.

Claire turned to look at her. “Yes, I’ve been busy, as you say, with Miss Hollins. But I’ve also done what you’ve asked of me, pretty much,” she murmured, not adding how much she now enjoyed all that was ‘asked of her’. The thought that very soon she would be serving the woman again produced a rush again. It was all so clear; yet this, between her and Aquina, was still confusing.

Aquina nodded. Where to go from here? She had encouraged this from Claire, had watched it develop into something…substantial, and then had even enjoyed her own time with the dominating Miss Hollins (although the two women agreed they were not a pair.)

Aquina fully understood that Claire was now a slave, certainly as much as she herself had been; but not with herself as the mistress.

The blonde woman was now gazing out into the fall sunshine; there was really nothing to deny or discuss and the two of them sat with their own thoughts. “I like being a, um, slave. Yeah I do, I admit that. I’ve admitted that to you and to myself, and you’ve seen it with your own eyes. That is the reality. It’s only complicated because of you, A,” Claire said quietly.

Aquina sat silently after that comment, thinking it was time for the next step. Was she ready? Could she handle where this might go? Well, it had been her idea in the beginning after all.

She took off her shades and turned, then lifted Claire’s face, looking into those gentle grey-blue eyes. She closed her own as she rested her face against the woman’s. “I…don’t know what I’ve done to deserve having you in my life, but I’m amazed with every day we’ve had. And I love having you with me…so,” Aquina sat back so she could look directly at Claire; “…I’d like us to go to Miami, together.”

“Miami?” Claire repeated quietly, processing this, concern on her face. “Why, and why now?” This certainly wasn’t something she wished for.

Aquina considered; she was not really surprised by Claire’s reaction. “Well, it’s my, mmm, home; and Sanders has his project; I mean, he’s already bought another condo. And he’s agreed that you could be his Miami assistant, if you want that, which works. And I will do my thing, whatever that is.”

They sat again in contemplation. “I want you to come with me, Claire.” Aquina said simply, knowing they were approaching a crossroad. “Will you?”

Claire sighed, how to say this? When to say this? It probably should have been said sooner.

“Um, I need you to understand this, A. I like Miss Hollins very, um, very much. And yes, like you said, I like being fucked and all that. I used to feel guilty, because I enjoyed what she does to me, everything, a lot.” She shook her head in wonder. “God, I know it’s crazy.”

She sighed and regarded her hands. “I look forward to being with her, A. So, deal is, I don’t feel guilty any more. I’m not sure about, what you want.” She turned again to look out the window, knowing no answers were there. “Um, I’m like, not sure about this Miami thing either, ‘cuz it’s kind of out of the blue, even if Sanders is involved, and well…” She stopped, her mind a whirl of conflicted emotions.

Their exchange was interrupted by Claire’s cell chiming. She looked at it and smiled, feeling a stab of intense arousal, “It’s Miss Hollins, reminding me to be at her place at one. And, um, she wants you to be there at three, bitch. Her words.” Claire held up her cell so Aquina could see.

The woman nodded, conflicted but excited by the thought of the session and Hollins’s dominance over her; it still filled a need, somewhat.  “Well, you’d better reply, Slave; she obviously wants you to herself for a bit.”

The cell chirped again and Aquina regarded her companion. Claire studied the message and then murmured, “She’s invited three of her friends to come; they’ll all be using me, and you, too, maybe,” she said quietly, excited again by the idea of others watching her being used. Why that aroused her, she didn’t know; it just did. Did it really matter anymore?

She also didn’t mention that one of the friends would be Grant, the man Hollins was involved with, although he wouldn’t have anything to do with Aquina.

“Excellent,” Aquina said, reaching over and squeezing Claire’s thigh. She paused, regarding the other, studying the lovely face of her companion.

Then Claire murmured, “It’s past twelve, A, we should get going.”

She didn’t want to be late.


As the ‘Fasten Seat Belt’ sign went off, a flight attendant went forward to check with the passengers in ‘First Class’. Shareen Macgregor ordered a bourbon and looked out her window. This section was not full; quite empty actually, for this flight, and at four and a half hours she liked the sense of space with no one in the seat beside her or in the aisle opposite.

When the attendant, an attractive brunette, mid-twenties, with striking blue eyes, brought her drink, Macgregor made her move. She had read the young woman and felt confident with this, as she lifted her dress revealing her naked pubic area. “I think you need to check back with me later, to see how I’m doing?” she smiled up at the woman. “Unless you want to be punished, Deirdre,” she smiled.

Momentarily flustered, the young woman then glanced around and smiled back and murmured, “Um, thank you, Dr. Macgregor. I, emmm, shall try.” Macgregor chuckled and looked at the young woman who glanced down. Perfect. “Not good enough, bitch, try again.”

The attendant reddened and focused on her shoes, “I will be back, Miss Macgregor,” she murmured. Macgregor reached up to gently caress the pretty face.

“You like being called a bitch, yes?” she asked, softly, and the woman winced, swallowed and slowly nodded her head.

“How…?” she looked up.

“How, Miss Shareen.”

“H-how…Miss Shareen?” The woman, reminding one of a fawn, sighed audibly and looked into Macgregor’s eyes.

The doctor placed two fingers into the woman’s mouth, which she immediately sucked. “I’m very experienced, dealing with dirty little bitches like you. And I will enjoy training you; I know what you need.”

The woman nodded quickly, kissing Macgregor’s hand as the fingers were removed, and then went off, returning in a moment to continue with her checking.

There was a curtain separating this section from the remainder of the plane, affording some privacy, and as the attendant now bent forward to speak with a passenger across and a row up, Macgregor ran her hand up the woman’s leg, who flinched only slightly. Macgregor carried on, gently caressing the thigh before she pressed two fingers against the panty-hose and panties covering the woman’s crotch.

In a moment, the attendant straightened up and turned to get the passenger’s order, but not before flashing a quick smile and then a submissive down-glance at the doctor. Macgregor nodded and settled into her seat, sipping her bourbon; the flight might not be so boring, after all.

And as she sipped she considered; she knew she had made the correct decision; it had been time to leave. Certainly with the way things had ended with Arlana Gervais and her group and all that, it was time to start something new, with her particular set of skills and needs (her husband had accepted the news with a shrug, which wasn’t a surprise. Her current, long-time slave slash house-keeper would join her in a week.)

There were, in fact, four things she felt were in her favor with her decision to leave for Miami.

One, the offer she had received, a partnership in a successful practice; two, the offer from Ms. Belvedere to handle some ‘product’ for her in Florida; three, the fact that she had always wanted to live by the ocean; and four, that Miami had always appealed to her; just the free nature of the place. She’d already heard positive things about the S and M scene, in fact.

The often pudgy, white ‘snowbirds’ that invaded from Canada in the winter months, especially those wearing Speedos, could be off-putting certainly, but then we all have our crosses to bear, Macgregor chuckled to herself.

And the icing on the proverbial cake was that her slave had confided in her the desire to return home, so Aquina would be close (very close, most likely) at hand, as Macgregor had prodded her to make the move and force the issue with Claire.

The series of texts, etcetera, with very interesting photos (and now quite a number of them) she’d been receiving from Aquina the last few weeks convinced her that the woman was close, leaving no doubt that old desires had come back, and Macgregor had played things with patience.

She was glad she had pressed her slave; the uncertain woman needed to embrace her submissiveness completely. Of that she had no doubt. She’d almost let this beauty get away once; she wasn’t planning on letting that happen again. Macgregor smiled as the plane dipped its wing and headed south.

Two hours later she stood in the plane’s lavatory and looked at the photos on her cell as Deirdre sat, naked, on the toilet, legs spread and hands tied with her pantyhose. Her panties were stuffed in her mouth.

“You’re on lay-over in Miami?” Macgregor asked, removing the sodden gag.

“Y-yes, Mistress Shareen, it’s my home base. Um, four days this time.”

Macgregor placed a business card between the puffy labia and undid the panty hose. She had already written the address of her new and upscale condo on the back. “Come to my place tonight instead of the hotel, dirty bitch,” she murmured, with Deirdre looking up and nodding.

Then Macgregor left, considering her life with a grin.

One never knows anything for sure, with decisions (there will always be regrets) but one can improve one’s odds, none-the-less.

****          ****         

Aquina and Claire were in the condo Aquina had found to lease, close to Sanders’s Miami office tower.

The fifteen days they had been here had been…cordial, but with Claire, who had finally but reluctantly agreed to come down, working as much for Sanders as she could; until today. She had even stayed at his place twice, once joining his new personal assistant, an attractive twenty-three-year-old redhead, in a three-some for a night, and performing oral sex on Sanders ‘for old time’s sake’.

When she had come back the next day and shared her encounter with Aquina, in detail, she had decided to finally press her companion about the relationship with Sanders.

“He’s never touched me, babe,” Aquina had murmured, and Claire had been surprised. But then, she considered that Sanders and Aquina had not ‘done anything’ when she was involved with them, either. Sanders had watched Claire and Aquina, and Aquina had watched her and Sanders, but that was it.

“He was kind of like a father, even though I wanted it to be more, early on. But it never was and now it never will be,” Aquina had said.

And Claire and Aquina had had sex only once in the entire fifteen days, and that was only after they had watched a video Hollins had sent them from that last afternoon before they’d left. The video showed Claire being double-penetrated and used as a willing toilet slave by the four women present, followed later by Aquina being punished and used aggressively by the three, as Hollins and Claire lay entwined together on the couch, watching.

Viewing the video had excited them and they had ‘fucked’ as opposed to making love, with Aquina declining again Claire’s requests to be punished. There had been no intimacy since that afternoon, now a week ago.

They had talked, a little, but of nothing of consequence; certainly no talk of any future. Claire had her own questions, but she had kept them to herself, for now, because, despite her relationship with Candace Hollins, Claire still cared for Aquina. And Aquina still cared for her blonde friend.

It was weird, they both acknowledged to themselves.

But today the two lovely women were in fact together, literally, hanging by their wrists from the top of a large, metal-framed slave stand; Candace Hollins had borrowed it from a friend she knew in Miami; she had ‘dom’ friends all over, as Shareen would discover.

The two bound women were facing each other, their nipples also touching, squeezed by clamps; their freshly whipped and sweat-glistened bodies were pressed together and their mouths were sucking in unison.

Hollins, taking a break, sat on a chair and observed these two. She had agreed with and counselled Claire to accept this Miami invitation, after a chat with Macgregor, and was happy to make the trip down to see, and abuse, them both now. And to get some things decided; it was time.

She stood now and came close; taller than either of them in her heels; she kissed one, then the other, and then removed the clips, sucked all four nipples, unhooked Claire and then put her on her knees, before going to her handbag and returning with a collar which read, “I Am Miss Hollins’s Property”, which she handed to the woman. Claire smiled and fastened it around her neck, then looked up into her mistress’s face, waiting.

Hollins then placed a ball-gag into Aquina’s mouth, saying, “You stay, dirty bitch, and listen as I fuck this beautiful woman in all her holes.” She then, slowly, licked Aquina’s face as Claire looked on. She then led Claire into the bedroom and again closed the door, making her point.

Claire immediately lay on her back on the bed and spread her legs, a huge smile on her face. “Enjoy the whipping?” Hollins asked, smiling down and removing her shoes, which was all she had on, apart from her harness and dildo. She took her time, teasing her slave.

Claire spread her legs farther, “I love everything you do to me, Mistress; you know that,” she murmured, wanting the woman to touch her.

“I see you’re still shaved,” Hollins smiled, running her hand over Claire’s sex, squeezing the labia, pulling on the fleshy, pink folds, causing the woman to moan.

“Mmmm, ohhh, mmm, fuck. Yes Mistress, I keep it the way you want it always. It, um, belongs to you, after all,” Claire stated, her heart beating, wondering if the woman wanted her to beg.

Hollins laughed softly and lay between the tanned thighs, and the two kissed tenderly, then deeply. “So, did you miss me, Slave?” Hollins then asked, with a wink and a smirk.

Claire looked up wide-eyed and grinned, “Oh God, do you need to ask? I really have, Mistress, really, really…” she said quickly, her heart beating. “I can’t explain.”

Hollins sighed; this was such a beautiful woman and such a perfect slave. It was time to make it real, settle things as she wanted them; she’d been patient. “What do you want now, my pussy girl?”

Claire did not hesitate. “I want you to fuck me, I really do. Please,” she gently kissed the woman’s throat, rubbing herself against the dildo.


(End of Chapter 29)

Posted on

A House of Slaves by LongDarkRoad Chapter 28 One Has To Laugh

A House of Slaves 

Chapter 28 One Has To Laugh (Life being so weird)

Eric and Kate came through the front door, removing coats and shoes. The house had remained in their possession, thanks to some quick work by Aquina, and, strangely, Brandon.

With Aquina and Adam putting aside the turmoil of Tucker’s death and Brandon’s arrest to focus on other things, the deed to the house, originally held by a numbered company, was transferred to Kevin, Eric, Kate, Aquina and Alderman Gusbertson. It was a good move.

Brandon’s part was that he had headed over to Jake’s house on hearing of the tragedy and found the box of money and was able to turn that over with his surrender. The DA was happy with his confession and the dough, and the house was left alone.

“Hey Kev, Mindi,” Eric called from the door. Kevin sat up; things were slowly improving, and some days were better than others. Today had been okay and he got up carefully from the couch to greet his friends.

Anna came down the stairs (she and Adam had moved into Aquina’s old room; Aquina actually, once she cleared out her stuff, had never returned to the house).

Anna and Kate hugged, they would always be sisters-at-heart, and then the two police officers went to change out of their uniforms. Adam would be home soon as well. It was still, in many ways, a full house, and they had actually started having poker games again, with no party girls, of course. Well, not ‘slave’ ones.

Mindi now stood and moved protectively over to Kevin, sliding an arm around his waist in support.

No word had ever come to them of Heather of course; Kevin had maintained his silence. Perhaps someday, a word maybe to Mindi; if the relationship held.


Now that Claire and Sanders were no longer involved intimately, the woman was free and eager to do whatever Aquina suggested…and more.

She was relishing her new sexual awareness, and had in fact met again on her own with Helen, the woman bringing another friend along and both using Claire aggressively and as a…slave; calling her that and writing it on her forehead with a marker. They fucked her spit-roast and pig-roast style and then double-penetration, with lots of cell phone shots.

They had made her beg them, and Claire had admitted, naked and on her knees as they recorded her, that she was a dirty piss-slut and a slave who needed to be fucked and punished. It had excited her so much she had no problem coming when the women allowed her to. They recorded that action as well.  

And now this newest scenario, which both Claire and Aquina were blown away by…


Aquina was watching as a woman; tall, demanding, attractive and expensively dressed, marched down the street, long brunette hair flowing behind her, followed by Claire. The impressive woman was holding a leash attached to Claire’s collar and the agreement between them was that after spending the night as her slave, the lovely blonde would have breakfast with her and then have her clothes and wallet returned.

The catch was that breakfast would be in a restaurant and Claire would still be a slave, hence the collar and leash. Aquina watched from her car, again feeling an overwhelming rush of desire, her mind in turmoil.

The previous evening had been memorable, to say the least.

Aquina had suggested they try something more…dangerous?  Claire, with the times with Helen fresh and compelling in her mind, readily agreed to this. It was another hook-up, but this time for both of them, and they would each try to meet someone and spend the night with them as their sex slave, not their partner.

Claire was not sure why Aquina needed this hook-up thing, but it didn’t matter anymore. She had enjoyed being used by Helen so much that she jumped on this proposal quickly; she had already decided to return to the woman at some point soon, with Helen having suggested some things to do to ‘the slave’ that Claire found tremendously exciting; the why didn’t matter.

Aquina would have found that fact very interesting, if Claire had shared.

So last night for Claire, being targeted in a bar, picked up and taken to this unknown woman’s place to serve her, had actually been the most erotic and exciting sexual thing in her life so far, which said a lot after Helen and being Aquina’s partner.

For even with all that, last night had been memorable.


Now as she walked along behind ‘her mistress’, which she had called this woman with no hesitation, Claire was still in something of an aroused sexual daze, finding being like this almost overwhelming.

The woman was Candace Hollins. Unlike Helen who was just a forceful lesbian, she was as skilled a dom as Aquina, if not quite as beautiful (who was). Claire had found the attractive woman compelling and so incredibly easy to submit to. And she had accepted everything, including bondage, discipline and degradation, even toilet humiliation, that this woman had demanded; devouring it, wanting more. When she uttered ‘mistress’, it was real.

And since neither she nor Aquina knew where this might end, Claire was simply enjoying it, for as long as it lasted. 

Even this, right now, being led by a leash in public while feeling a strong desire to please this woman, was amazing to her. She knew just how wet this action was making her, even if she wasn’t wearing panties to gauge by.

If Claire didn’t have someone essentially waiting for her, she knew she would willingly spend another day and night with Miss Hollins; maybe more. Things had changed for her so much in the last month.

As for Aquina, the evening had been the first night in a long while that she had been with a woman other than  Claire, having resisted Shareen (in person) so far. But with her lover being picked up and taken home by a stranger for the night, Aquina had to find someone for herself or go mad.

The evening and the woman she met had in the end filled a void for her, but had not been completely satisfying. She still needed more; it was not a question at this point.

And now she got out of her car and followed these two into a restaurant; they had gone to a corner booth and Aquina was able to take a table nearby with a view. The place, as it was now past ten-thirty, had cleared out with only a handful of people remaining, scattered about.

In the booth, Claire as ordered opened the coat she was wearing to reveal she was completely naked; she had been from the moment she was in Miss Hollins’s car, going up in the elevator with only her coat on. From where she sat, Aquina could clearly see Claire’s lovely breasts and the word ‘slut’ written on her chest, as Claire threw her a quick glance and a grin. For the most part however, she remained focused on the woman before her, so submissive it was unbelievable.

The server who arrived at Claire’s table was clearly startled at the sight, and stood nervously glancing from one person to the other, but Hollins talked quietly with the girl (who looked to be college-aged) and in a moment she cautiously reached out and fondled one of Claire’s plump breasts, then the other. The woman handed the server two clamps and, with a little hesitation, she clipped them onto Claire’s puffy nipples and then attached them to the collar with small chains.

With another quick chat, the server took out her cell and snapped a picture. Claire then spread her legs as the girl took another shot, before leaning forward and kissing the slave, oblivious to anyone’s eyes. The server then smiled down at the women and began taking their order, Claire still sitting with her legs and coat open. She remained that way, and not looking at Aquina, until the server returned with their food.

The young woman then fed the cut up waffle pieces to the slave, putting some in her own mouth first as directed, until, after a brief chat with Hollins, she led Claire by her leash to the washroom.

For her part, Aquina felt like a volcano, ready to erupt; it was unbelievable what this was doing to her. Her thoughts actually turned to how she would look on her knees before Hollins.

And tomorrow and the day after that? And what of Shareen? Aquina would deal with all that later, although she knew she would be contacting her…mistress.

For now, acting on impulse, she went over and introduced herself to a surprised Candace Hollins.

By the time Claire returned, Aquina was gone, and Hollins informed her slave she was to spend the rest of the day with her. “Are you good with that?” Hollins asked with a smirk.

“I am, Mistress,” Claire replied obediently, aware of her arousal and not concerned with how this had come about.

“What did that young woman order you to do, slave?” the woman asked.

Claire looked down, then said, “I ate her pussy, and then she had me lick her um, anus.”

“Did she take more shots of you?”

Claire nodded. Hollins smiled. “And you liked it, you liked being ordered to lick a woman’s asshole, didn’t you, slave?”

Claire snorted softly and nodded, and it was amazing; she had loved being on her knees in a bathroom stall,

having oral sex with a stranger. She wanted to do it again.

The server came to them then with the bill, smiling at Claire, and Hollins asked her what time she was off, then gave the girl her address. “We’re only a block away. Come over when you’re finished, my slave would like to serve you some more and you can punish her as well. She especially likes licking your ass.”

The girl grinned, “Uh, that’s like awesome. I’m, um, meeting a friend, can I like bring her along?”

“You can, and you can take a lot more shots later too, making the slave do lots more stuff,” Hollins smiled, as Claire sat, wanting it to happen right then.

“Cool,” the server grinned.

And the only condition Aquina had made was she wanted photos too.


Shareen Macgregor saw the name on the call display and answered with surprise, as it was a dominatrix she had known for years. “Candace? Candace Hollins? It’s been ages.”

Hollins chuckled, “It has, but time flies, doesn’t it? Anyway, I have a question from out of the blue.”

“Shoot woman.”

“Do you know a Aquina Morez?”

Macgregor had to laugh, life being so weird.


Aquina felt a confused mix of emotions as she walked up the sidewalk leading to the ‘slave-house’. She had been surprised by the text from Kate, whom she had not spoken with for weeks.

The dark-haired woman smiled up at Aquina as she entered. She walked around for a few minutes just looking and remembering. A few things had changed, but the place was much the same as when she was last in it.

Looking down at Kate, the two then embraced and held each other for a while, Aquina finally asking gently, “How’s it going with…Eric?”

Kate sighed, “So good, really. Sometimes it just makes me laugh, but we’re bonded together by what happened, in a weird way, and our feelings for each other. It’s great for me, right, ‘cuz it’s like he tries every day to make up for what he did to me. I’ve told him he’s forgiven, it’s over, but it really is awesome.”

They held a little longer, then Kate asked about Aquina’s life and they shared some small talk. “You’ve been to see Brandon?” Aquina murmured.

“Hmmm-mmmm,” Kate replied. “I needed to wrap that up, the last piece. It was, strange. But now it’s done; it’s all done.”

They gently parted; Aquina looked at the woman. “So why the call, kid?” she smiled.

Quietly, and surprisingly to Aquina, Kate undressed and went to her knees, bending forward to kiss Aquina’s shoes. “I need you, Mistress. I’ve thought about this, a lot, for weeks. I’m happy with Eric, very happy, but he can’t do, um, this. I know how weird it is. I do. That’s why it’s, like, taken me so long, to reach out.”

Aquina watched in amazement as Kate crawled to a wardrobe and then returned with a table tennis paddle in her mouth, and dragging a pair of hand-cuffs.

“Please,” she said, looking up, her eyes filled with desire.

Aquina smiled and gently shook her head in wonder.


Claire was smiling too, as she looked at the text; it was from Candace Hollins. It had been a week since their encounter, a week today actually since Claire had sat on their couch and looked at Aquina, after spending two days and two nights with the woman. “You’re, um, good with all this, A?” she’d asked quietly, thinking of all that had been done to her and how she had…responded.

Aquina had sighed, “I don’t know what I need, lover, but Miss Hollins sent me a lot of shots of you, and I can’t believe what I feel. If you’re good with this, I am.”

Claire had gently shaken her blonde locks, some confusion and definitely arousal clouding her mind. She didn’t know what was going on in Aquina’s head but she knew what she wanted; to see Miss Hollins again, to do more of what she’d done, and so the excitement now with this text.

“What are you doing, dirty slave?” It read, and Claire felt a delicious jolt of desire.

“Not much today, Mistress. What are you thinking your slave should be doing?” She quickly replied, imagining herself with the woman.

“I’m thinking you need to be on your knees before me, your face in my pussy again, yes? Or maybe we can invite those two young ladies back, you enjoyed that, I could tell.”

Claire stifled a moan, remembering the server and her young friend and what they had done to her. The whole thing had been almost like a dream, and she had left Hollins very reluctantly after the weekend.

“I would love to be with you, Mistress; I should be with you, serving you, licking you; having you spank my ass.” Claire paused, arousal rising and images filling her mind. “You could have others there as well, if you wish,” she typed rapidly, adding, “I’ll do whatever you want.” Too much? It didn’t matter.

As she sent this off, she considered that this was not something she had planned, any of it. She had done this, initially, to please Aquina. But now things had changed, so very, very much. Or maybe she had just come to terms with herself.

Hollins replied, “I want you here now slave, and yes I’ll have some people watching, seeing what an obedient pussy slave you are, and using you as well. You need to be used a lot; it’s what you were made for.”

Claire moaned softly, feeling again a mix of guilt and immense desire, with wanting this. “I love being watched as I serve you.” That was true; she didn’t know why. “I want to be with you. I want to be used by you, every way.” she typed, sliding her hand inside her pants and remembering the two young women sitting and observing her as she knelt naked, licking her mistress.

There was a pause. “I’ll send a taxi for you, and invite some friends. Wear a coat and nothing else. I may even have you suck some cock this time, as we all see what a dirty slut you are. And I think I’ll piss on you again, now that I know how much you like it. And of course deserve it.”

Feeling an incredible rush and going to her knees, Claire typed, “I’ll be ready, Mistress.”


Smithfield closed his file. So that was that. Brandon Park had gotten the whole indictment, confessed to everything; he and Jake Tucker being guilty, with neither Eric Park nor Kevin Riggs having anything to do with anything.

Smithfield didn’t believe it; but, with the shit storm over Dzyuba and the death of Jake Tucker, and pressure from all sorts of sources, the DA was more than happy to wrap things up with a confession. Even just one.

Yesterday, Park was transferred to Hillsboro, the Grantham Correctional Center, a Level Four medium-security state prison, where he would begin serving his seven year sentence.  

Maybe it was for the best, Smithfield mused, scratching his nose with a pencil; Tucker and Dzyuba dead and Park in prison; that was something. And Kevin Riggs was still in recovery after suffering extensive and serious internal injuries. The afternoon of the attack saw him in serious and extensive surgery; liver, gall bladder, spleen, pancreas; all kinds of internal stuff was damaged by Tucker’s shotgun butt assault, as well as back and shoulder injuries.

Once Riggs recovered more or less fully, he would be on desk duty for a long while, maybe forever, so he had certainly paid a price. As for Eric Park, Smithfield wasn’t even convinced as to how involved he was, so, that was that.

For Smithfield, this was over.


“Slave,” the message came. Aquina had not been in touch today, but it would not really have mattered if she had.

Claire replied quickly, “Mistress.”

“Did you enjoy Thursday?”

Claire thought with a smile of her most recent session, two days ago with a woman she not only called, but now thought of, as mistress. She had arrived at the woman’s apartment wearing her coat and nothing else as ordered. There had been three women and one man sitting and smiling on the two facing couches as she entered, and was told to take off the coat and stand before them.

She remembered the sense of sublime purpose she felt as she stood naked and was regarded, posed and discussed, all four people plus Hollins commenting on her breasts, ass and shaved pussy as they took turns ‘examining’ her, which brought her close to an orgasm. She had easily and willingly gone to her knees and admitted she was a slut and a slave and would serve them all.

One woman then wrote ‘slut’ across her breasts, as Hollins had done on their first meeting, and then everyone took a cell phone shot of her, before having her pose with her legs spread and her labia pulled back. (Aquina had smiled when Hollins sent her this shot, remembering.)

The group had then sat, drinking wine, talking and watching as Claire thoroughly licked her mistress’s pussy and ass, before going around to each woman in turn, doing what they ordered. She had found each vagina and anus unique, in appearance and odor, but all had aroused her, as had the breast and ass slaps she received along the way.

She had ended with the man, sucking his black cock (her first) enthusiastically, before he fucked her and then fucked her mistress as she knelt below them, sucking the man’s cock whenever he removed it from her mistress’s pussy, until he came on Hollins’s spread ass to the cheers of the group.

Claire had dutifully cleaned this up as her mistress and the others made remarks to her about her place in the world, which was on her knees and ready to serve. She finally looked up at Hollins with contentment when her task was finished.

Her reward was a final shared paddling, all the women taking turns as the man observed, until her cheeks burned with a red glow. This was followed by a  wonderful orgasm, courtesy Hollins, before the woman took her into the bathroom and urinated on her, including directly into her mouth for the first time, as two of the others watched, one making a video before taking Hollins’s place and covering the slave from her head down with her ‘golden shower’.

It had been amazing, if still a little bewildering; and Claire had thought of the afternoon several times a day since.

It was also confusing to her that she and Aquina had not discussed this…transformation; it had been a strange few weeks, but at this point Claire was acting strictly on emotion and desire; her ‘lover’ clearly had her own plans.

“I loved Thursday Mistress, everything; I’m pretty sure you could tell. When can I serve you and your friends again?” She asked, Aquina not even entering her mind at this point.


As she walked down one long hallway in the Grantham Correctional Center, Aquina pondered. She had seen Brandon, briefly, several times after his arrest and during his detainment, but this was her first time with him in a couple of weeks and since he had been sentenced.

In all this time, she had not been able to let him know how much the two of them had stashed away in their off-shore account; they were never sure who was listening or monitoring and they didn’t want a whisper of their cache to get out. A cache they had set up so it would take both of them, together in person, to access the funds.

Aquina was going today to make sure Brandon knew that: she would be there for him during parole hearings and when he was released, and their money would be safe and waiting. They were partners, and Aquina took that seriously.

As she waited at the gated inner entrance, she noticed Lindsay leaving. The woman had, amazingly really, stuck with Brandon through this as well.

Aquina was happy for him for that.

She approached the last gate. Past here was the prisoner’s access point. When she passed through and the gate clanged shut behind her, it was hard not to have a feeling of dread at being here. She thought to herself, how would I do in a place like this? She didn’t think she’d do very well.

After sitting down on the plastic chair she waited a moment before a door opened in the room on the other side of the Plexiglas. Brandon was brought in wearing his orange suit and wrists bound by cuffs. He actually looked to be in good shape and spirits. Aquina picked up one phone while Brandon picked up his.

“Hey,” she began.

“Hey yourself,” he smiled at her.

“You’re looking pretty good for a cop behind bars,” she smiled back.

Brandon chuckled. “Well, I’m using the equipment room every day. There are only three of us who aren’t  in gen-pop, so we’ve got the place to ourselves.”

“Okay. Um, how’s the food?”

“Pretty good too, considering. But I don’t think I’ll be gaining a lot of weight.”

They chatted around, Aquina bringing Brandon up to date on the ‘gang’, although Lindsay had already given him some info.

Aquina looked at Brandon now, before speaking. She wanted to look right into his eyes. “I’m here mostly to tell you, we are partners. I will be here for any hearings and for your release. Then we can go, together, to check our…little bundle of joy.”

They both laughed, and Aquina held her left hand up to the Plexiglas. Brandon did the same with his right, covering hers, but before he did, he saw clearly the number she had written in black marker on her palm; $722,000.

Brandon smiled.


Shareen Macgregor had felt her cell vibrate, and when she took it out and looked at the photos just sent and read the text, she had to laugh.

Life was weird. Some things take time, some never happen.

Who knows? Certainly not her; she was just taking it a day at a time. But she felt relieved that she had, at last, made up her own mind about some things.

And the photo, from Aquina of course, showing her newly shaved pubic area with the word slave now clearly visible again, made her smile.

At the apartment, Aquina lay and considered. She too needed to decide; on a couple of things.

 (End of Chapter 28)

Posted on

A House of Slaves by LongDarkRoad Chapter 27 One Never Knows

A House of Slaves 

Chapter 27 Anyway, One Never Knows (So that was that)

“Holy shit,” Smithfield exclaimed, looking down at the bloodied body of Jake Tucker. The assistant M.E. was almost finished, and two men stood waiting behind Smithfield with a gurney. “How many times was he hit?”

“I count six, but we’ll see when we get him on the table.”

Smithfield had heard the report of gunfire and recognized the address; he had it on his computers and various places around his office; he knew it very well. When he arrived, patrol cars and the M.E. were already on scene.

“They said he was shot by two…women?” Smithfield asked.

“That’s what I hear. They took two women and a man into custody. Kevin Riggs, an officer, was found badly injured in the other room and he has been taken to emergency. (Smithfield had seen the ambulance leaving as he arrived.}

“Holy shit,” Smithfield repeated, to no one in particular. The surprises were not over for the detective, however.

On his way back to the station he received a call informing him that they had found the body of Dale Dzyuba, murdered in an apparent mugging.

“Holy shit,” Smithfield repeated, and not for the last time that day.


Aquina lay on the bed with Bobbi pressed against her. They were in ‘the apartment’, but Mindi was not there; she was at the hospital waiting as Kevin, finally out of three hours of surgery, was sleeping. He would have more surgery the next day.

Aquina did not want to see Claire, for whatever reason. She had actually called Macgregor to briefly talk, without analyzing why the woman was a support. She was, end of story.

Tomorrow she would see Brandon, who had been arrested late tonight. The house, as a crime scene, was sealed off. Aquina would go back when she could, to get her clothes and meagre collection of personal items. She would likely not return there to live.

What an unbelievable day; one, it appeared, where her little deuce, deuce played a big role. Crazy.

****               ****          ****

(2 weeks later)

“Okay then,” Aquina said, and ended the call with Brandon’s lawyer, one provided by Sanders McHugh. There would be no bail; it was just a matter of working out plea details and the rest. She sighed.

With Claire now gone to Miami for three days with Sanders, she would be alone in Kate’s old place, with the girls dispersed (Bobbi now actually at Claire’s) and Mindi back at the house. Aquina had her clothes, etcetera, but didn’t want to be there, even though the police were all gone and the damages had been repaired.

But tonight she was restless.

While it was true that the day of abuse with ‘the ladies’ had changed things, some things don’t change. She was enjoying her time with Claire and, working around the lovely woman’s commitment to Sanders, they were together a fair amount. But certainly, as time had moved along sometimes tediously, but often in a rush following the death of Tucker and the arrest of Brandon, and definitely this last week, old cravings that had begun drifting back before this madness now were there in earnest.

She thought often, too often, of Claire’s invitation to spank her, and Aquina struggled with the choice. She didn’t want Claire…that way, but the woman had mentioned it again, and Aquina was getting antsy. And as much as she enjoyed her relationship with the lovely woman, she again admitted to herself that there was still something missing from her life; there was no point in being stubborn.

And Claire was pushing for something too, their relationship changing, if not already changed.

And last week, when a text had arrived from Shareen Macgregor, Aquina had felt the desire once again. She’d admitted to the woman that she, indeed, looked at the shot of her pussy every day.

“You want to serve it, admit that.”

Like an alcoholic facing the bottle, Aquina had been able to end the conversation without agreeing to anything, but what about next week, and the week after?

Even without the desire, which actually never went away, she’d texted her…mistress, just to communicate with someone who understood. And to maintain contact.

And tonight she lay restless and uneasy. She got up and lit one of her slim cigars and sat, considering, the cell phone beckoning.


Charlotte Delmare parked in front and then entered her, ‘home’ (it could never really be home again) to the silence. The place was generally silent these days, with Meredith having moved out. “Michael,” she called, but to no response. She went downstairs, where, for some reason, her husband seemed to spend most of his time these days; but he was not there.

Fighting a growing sense of unease, she searched, ending up in the garage, where she needed to open the large door, as her husband’s car was running. After the air was cleared a little, she opened his door and, fighting hysteria, leaned past her husband’s body to turn off the motor.                                 ****

Meredith Delmare stood looking up at Jessie’s place, making up her mind.

Much had happened since her decision to follow Jake Tucker into that house. Obviously, first off, she had been detained and held in connection with his death. But after a psychological evaluation, she had been released with conditions.

In time, the DA decided not to lay any charges, being as eager as the rest to shut this whole thing down as soon as possible.

All Meredith ended up with were some misdemeanors for gun possession that would be covered by community service, the argument being that she had acted in defence of others, being in grave danger.

And so that had passed. But now, things were coming apart again with her and Jessie; it really was a case of personalities.

As she stood, hesitating, her cell phone buzzed; it was a message from her mother.


(One month after ‘the day’)

In Denver, on the Scheffley acreage, Melissa Levy, naked, was riding a horse in the spacious arena. She had never ridden horses before in her young life, until coming here, and now she rode pretty much every day, and always naked. In fact, she was naked most of the time, no longer even thinking about it, wearing only her custom-made breast harness.

Occasionally she would recall her former life; briefly.

As she rode her blonde hair (her mistress continued to dye it) streamed out behind her and her lovely breasts, held up by the harness, still rose and fell hypnotically.

Cynthia Scheffley watched from the side, a smile on her face; she loved those breasts, and everything else as well. She felt a great deal for this delightful and beautiful woman, and there was a real jab when she thought of when the young slave’s time with her would come to a close.

She hoped Melissa would decide to stay on, they could work out specifics later; but, a deal was a deal, and Scheffley was a woman of her word.

She had recently allowed the ‘slave’ to send a letter, an actual letter, to Aquina Morez; there was a chance that woman might, some day, come for a visit.

Who knows?


Bobbi looked out the window of the bus, as the towers of the metropolis loomed now in the distance. She didn’t know what she’d find in New York, but she knew she needed to try her wings.

She’d always remember Aquina and Claire, but in the end, it was them, as a couple, however they were sorting that out, but her as the third.

She needed to stand on her own; maybe someday she’d go back, look them up, whatever. She still cared for them, both.

Who knows?


“You’re sure about this?” Claire asked, again, with both excitement and nervousness.

Aquina sighed; was anyone ever sure of anything? She knew she needed to test herself, and Claire; to probe.

“Yes, and you can let things go where they will, or not. Your call.”

“This is, kinda weird…” Claire smiled.

“But you’re excited.”

Claire sighed and chuckled, “I am, okay, I really am, but you know, you could still…”

“We’ve been over that,” Aquina said, stroking the woman’s face. “C’mon. Let’s do it.”

Claire gave the woman a look and then she opened the door and climbed out. Setting her shoulders, she marched toward the building that housed ‘Dusty’s’, a lounge known as a place ‘for women to meet women’. Aquina watched from her car, her hand already between her thighs.

It wasn’t long before a woman, mid-thirties, average height, build, short brown hair, came to stand beside Claire, who had taken a stool at the bar. With a stab of jealous arousal, Aquina watched as Claire and the woman moved to a booth, both with glasses of wine.

Aquina now got out and went for a walk, giving the situation time. Fifteen minutes later, and as Claire had been coached, Aquina, standing now outside, saw the two women rise and make their way out, going to the rear of the building, where they found a spot with come seclusion.

Aquina herself was likely in the only spot with a view of the action. She watched the two kiss deeply for several minutes, then saw Claire’s coat removed as the other woman spun her around and pushed her against the bricks, tugging down her slacks roughly and slapping the lovely, naked ass several times, with Claire arching her back to accept the punishment, clearly wanting it.

Aquina watched with incredible arousal and amazement as Claire was then stripped completely naked and made to pose, kneeling on her coat, as the woman took a number of shots with her cell. Next the woman’s pants were off and she was bent forward, Claire’s face in her ass, pleasuring the woman eagerly.

Finally, the woman grabbed a handful of Claire’s hair, slapped her face and spit on her, then pulled that face between her thighs, where she humped it aggressively. The encounter ended with Claire on her knees, thanking the woman as this gratitude was recorded on her cell.


An hour later, Aquina and Claire lay together, both having experienced wonderful orgasms after wild sex.

“So,” Claire whispered, “now what?”

Aquina raised herself on an elbow, and regarded the wonderful face. “We’ll see, but that was bitchin’ hot. And that woman does now have your number.”

Claire paused, hesitant to admit how completely aroused she had been with not only what had been done to her but with the idea of meeting up with the woman again. “Why, um, don’t you just, like, do stuff to me yourself? You liked watching that woman spank me, why don’t you just do it?”

Aquina shook her head. “We’ve been over this, and she didn’t just spank you, lover, she made you her bitch, and yes, I loved…watching that.” She paused to ponder and then kiss the side of Claire’s face, murmuring. “And yeah, I’m still working things out, it’s complicated. For me, anyway.”

Claire sat in thought, then asked quietly, “Why haven’t you wanted to make me, like, your bitch?”

Aquina studied the woman; that was the question, wasn’t it? It had never sat right, in her mind, and yet she admitted to herself to being aroused incredibly by watching Claire serving someone sexually, but not wanting to be the one holding the leash so to speak; it was weird, definitely.

But how to explain any of it, like the fact she still needed to be in contact with Miss Shareen??

“That’s part of what I’m working out,” she said with a grimace.

Claire sat for a moment, then asked, “Would you like me to contact that woman? Her name’s Helen.” She had already decided to contact her anyway, but this was her being…honest.

Aquina smiled and nodded her head, both women feeling a rush for different reasons.

Charlotte Delmare signed the purchase offer and sighed; the house had sold quickly. She had been thinking of selling even before Michael’s death, which was just the final straw. Meredith was into her own life, whatever that was (they hadn’t spoken) and it was time to move on with hers. A new city would maybe allow her to bury all those memories, if that was possible.

Who knows?


It had been four days since their encounter, but Claire was walking briskly across a motel parking lot, and then up the stairs. Room two-twenty-nine was the fourth unit in. Her heart pounding wildly, she knocked on the door and then entered when Helen answered. The woman was sitting, wearing only her panties, on a chair facing the door.

She looked at Claire and smiled. “Come in sweet bitch, get naked and on your knees where you belong.”

Claire could not believe how her hands were shaking as she undressed and crawled to the woman, then knelt, looking up at her. Helen bent forward and they kissed passionately, as if wanting to swallow each other’s tongues. Helen then turned Claire around and tied her hands behind her back with a scarf, whispering, “I’m going to have some fun with you, aren’t I?”

Claire moaned and murmured, “Yes, Miss Helen,” as the woman brought her to her feet and kissed her deeply, Claire needing to please her.

“Do you want to be my bitch?”

Claire swallowed and stifled a moan, “I do, M-miss Helen.”

“Open your fucking mouth.” The woman spat into the orifice and then kissed it ferociously, before pushing Claire face down on the bed and slapping the lovely ass until it was red.


Three hours later, sitting in a chair at home with a glass of red wine, Claire was gentling caressing her labia and considering. She had really (really) enjoyed her session with the aggressive Helen, and was consciously admitting how extremely submissive she was; how complying to the commands of a dominating woman had aroused her so incredibly. And she had also enjoyed being spanked, which didn’t really surprise her (and Helen was not a mild person); Claire’s ass cheeks still felt heated.

She thought of when she had asked Aquina to spank her, both times. She had not been sure exactly why; but now she knew. It was simply because she really did want that, from Aquina certainly, then, but definitely from someone.

This afternoon had all been amazing, and Claire admitted she was keen on doing more, and clearly it wouldn’t be with Aquina; unfortunately, or not.

But her lover seemed to want this, punishment submission scenario, so, what was there to do except find someone who did?

She would call Miss Helen again.


Kate looked across at Brandon and picked up her phone. He hesitated, then picked up his.

“I guess you’re surprised,” Kate murmured, heart beating. She and Eric had discussed this. ‘You sure, Katie?’ he’d asked. He had no plans to see Brandon. “I am,” she had said quietly. She needed to do this.

“I’m glad you’re in here,” she said, still quietly.

Brandon sighed; who could blame this woman for her resentment, especially with him? He nodded, “I get that.” He regarded her steadily through the glass. “It’s, um, weird, I know, but I hope you and Eric make it. I do.”

Kate looked on for a few more seconds, suddenly feeling empty, which in some ways wasn’t so bad. It was better than the burning rage, although that had slowly passed.

She hung up the phone and left; she would move on.

As Aquina had said; she’d survived, and now Tucker and Dzyuba were dead, Brandon was in here and Kevin was facing a long road to recovery. She and Eric were good and she and Anna were like (very loving) sisters.

She’d come out okay in the end.


Bella Traynor looked over at Arlana. She had only been

back two days and things were still…awkward; but she needed to confront her half-sister. “I know my rights, Arlana,” Bella was saying.

“Rights, schmites. What has that got to do with anything? You should not be involved with the company; why do you even care?” Arlana replied in her usual haughty tone.

“Dad’s (they had different mothers) will made it very clear (unlike Arlana, Bella had read through the will, carefully and more than once). I have a seat on the board, and I intend to occupy it.”

Arlana folded and unfolded her hands. “You’re doing this to spite me. To annoy me. You’re still angry because I…sent you away…”

“I went away, dear…sister.” There was silence, then Bella continued. “This is not about you; it isn’t always about you, you know. This is about me, and my future, since I’m no longer your…assistant.”

“Your choice…”

“Whatever…doesn’t matter. And…Sanders McHugh is coming on the board, so there is no point in you being…obstinate.”

Arlana sighed, collected herself and sipped her excellent chardonnay. She then turned and went into her living room, going to a corner where a naked, middle-aged woman was hanging from the ceiling hook, her hands stretched out above her, tied at the wrists.

The body was coated with perspiration and marked with red welts and melted wax. Arlana removed the two clips and grasped the now-engorged nipples, tugging them. The woman moaned as well as she could, with a gag labelled ‘Pig’ stuck in her mouth. Her mascara and eye shadow had streaked her face and she looked bedraggled.

Arlana picked up a paddle and stood lightly tapping it against her hand. Bella looked closely at the woman. “Isn’t that…Judith Grosvenor?” She asked.

“Yeee-ss,” Arlana slurred languidly, before bringing

the paddle down with a “Ssss-lapp!” on the woman’s buttocks. “She made the mistake of betting me; lost of course, and now she will pay, won’t you, Sweetie?” She lifted the woman’s face by her greying hair and removed the ball gag.

“I–I’m sorry, Arlana.”

“Ssss-lappPP!” Arlana brought the paddle down hard. “Piggy forgets?” Arlana scolded in a high-girly voice.

“I-I’m, s-sorry, Mistress Arlana.”

“Better, little pig,” Arlana crooned, then slowly licked the woman’s mouth, before putting the gag back in. Next, she put the nipple clips back on, before attaching weights to both, increasing the discomfort, with Grosvenor moaning behind her gag.

Bella simply shook her head and left Arlana to her …activity. She would never completely understand her, but she would never be her partner again; that was for sure; although she did miss some of the ‘fun’.


Olivia Carruthers looked hard at the man sitting across from her. “You were sloppy, Amiel.”

“I’m sorry, boss. Alston was prepared…” Amiel looked down.

Carruthers continued, her voice hard. “Now the cops will be all over this. We need to shut things down; send your boys out of town. No contact with me for at least two months. Make your calls.”

The woman, hard and unsmiling, sat there smoking a joint as Amiel made all the arrangements. When he sat back down he announced. “Everything is taken care of, Mrs. B. I won’t mess up again.”

The woman stubbed out her joint, flicking it away with a brightly painted nail. She nodded to her tall, broad shouldered chauffer, who stepped forward and quickly slit Amiel’s throat, careful not to get any blood on his boss.

“I know you won’t, Amiel,” she said crisply, standing and making her way up the stairs, her business done.


Pamela Kwong considered the choices. Since she had, a while back, reluctantly agreed to allow Mary to date some younger women, things had gone as she feared and it was now two weeks since her lovely young protégé had moved out.

Kwong had ‘grieved’, but she was a resilient woman, and was now ready to move on; so why not try the same approach? Which was why she was studying the pictures. Okay, she thought, twenty-one year old Hannah Wilson looks promising.

She spent the next twenty minutes looking over her résumé and file; no physio in her background, too bad; but she had done yoga for several years and was a jogger, so she would not be freaked out by relieving stress. She called the woman into her office and felt the choice was good; young, petit, eager, evaluation coming up in two weeks, no husband; she’d check on relationships.

Kwong gave the girl an assignment that she knew would keep her occupied for some hours, and which would take her past noon. That was good. It was just too bad that her mistress no longer watched her activities. Kwong missed that; but she now recorded her sessions herself anyway; one never knows…

At noon when Hannah returned to update her supervisor, Kwong chatted with her, suggesting that if they worked through the lunchtime Hannah would be able to leave early. She then brought up the topic of Hannah’s evaluation and Kwong’s role and Hannah was drawn in.

“So you see the value of me getting to know you better, my dear?”

“Oh, yes, Ms. Kwong. That would be so awesome. I can’t believe you’d think to help me…”

“Of course I would help you. I help you, you help me. Everyone benefits.”

Hannah looked down at her shoes; this conversation was confusing her. Kwong started up again. “Okay, then I need to get back to this part of the report; you have the other. But I have this crick in my neck that is annoying. You do stretches and such, how are you with muscles?”

“Oh, I’m pretty good, Ms. Kwong. I do teach yoga, don’t know if you’re aware, and I have worked out muscle spasms and stuff, well, lots. I’m sure your neck is something like that, hey.”

“Well, that sounds promising, Ms. Wilson. Why don’t you just come around behind me here and massage my neck a little, that’s a good girl. I’m sure your skill will really help.”

“Are you sure, Ms. Kwong?” Hannah asked with a nervous little laugh.

“Oh yes, yes. Come on, don’t be shy. This is a very good way to make me happy with you. I’m sure your…boyfriend won’t be upset.”

With a shy smile, Hannah moved behind Pamela Kwong and placed her delicate hands upon the woman’s neck. “I, um, don’t have a boyfriend,” she murmured and Kwong smiled.

Hannah’s hands were soft, more gentle even than Mary’s, probably because she hadn’t actually been trained in physio. Never-the-less, they felt wonderful, and Kwong was aware of her rising arousal; take it easy, she told herself, do not scare her off.

Ignoring her own warnings, Kwong took Hannah’s hands and positioned them on the buttons of her blouse. “It would probably be easier if my…blouse was off, don’t you think?” she purred.

Hannah froze; not pulling back, not proceeding. Kwong was certain she could hear the girl’s heart beating, or maybe it was her own. Then, slowly, the young woman began to undo the buttons; one, two, three, four. Kwong removed her blouse, and Hannah went back to her work on the neck. She was pressing a little harder now, and leaning her slim, young body against Kwong’s back.

Kwong then took Hannah’s hands and brought them to the clasp of her bra. “I–um, I…“ Hannah began.

“Sssshhhh,” Kwong soothed, as her bra came off, and she moved Hannah’s soft hands to her breasts. Hannah began to pull and squeeze the nipples. Kwong could not see her, but Hannah now had her eyes closed. Exploring the feel of breasts, the first ones other than her own she had ever touched, and these were lovely.

And then, surprisingly, possibly to them both, Hannah began to tenderly kiss Kwong’s neck and shoulders, as she squeezed the breasts more confidently.

“Uuummhhmmmn”, Kwong sighed, “that is just wonderful.”

“I–um, I don’t want to, emm, hurt your, uh…you,” Hannah murmured.

Kwong took Hannah’s hands and forcefully pulled her own breasts and nipples with them. “Don’t worry about that, my dear. I like firm; don’t be too gentle. Although the soft kisses are lovely.”

She then brought Hannah around and placed a nipple in the girl’s mouth, watching with desire and amazement as Hannah closed her eyes and suckled like a baby.

Who knows?


As Brad Smithfield was getting up to leave, he glanced at a note that had been left on his desk. The name of the cop who had died at his place in a home invasion gunfight last week, was Ed Alston.

Smithfield knew Alston; he was a good if somewhat crusty veteran. From evidence at the scene, blood and bullets, at least four people were shot; Alston had clearly put up a fight.

Killing a cop in his home was serious; he would track this one for sure.

 (End of Chapter 27)

Posted on

A House of Slaves by LongDarkRoad Chapter 26 A Confession of Pain

A House of Slaves 

Chapter 26 A Confession of Pain (Nice doing business with you)

In a few minutes Dzyuba noticed they had gotten into an argument, and, creep or not, he still had his cop instincts kick in. When the man grabbed the girl roughly by the shoulder, Dzyuba rose, towering above them.

“Hey, stay outta ‘dis, pops. Not your concern.”

“Take it easy fella, let’s yak.”

“Fuck yourself, buddy.” The man had pulled a blade, but Dzyuba was surprisingly quick, gripping the arm and slamming his elbow into the young man’s chest. The knife dropped and the man dashed out the door, Dzyuba following and yelling at him as he ran off.

The girl looked shaken but relieved, and Dzyuba played his advantage, buying her a drink. She smiled shyly, but ordered two Tequila shooters, with Dzyuba ‘manning up’ and downing his; it was okay with beer, he reasoned.

They talked for a few minutes until Dzyuba had to excuse himself and headed for the washroom. Coming out and doing up his fly, he was surprised to see the young woman waiting for him.

She placed a hand on his crotch, saying “That guy was going to give me fifty bucks I need badly. Maybe if I’m…nice to you, you might give me…something.”

Dzyuba’s craggy face produced his trademark goofy grin, as the young woman undid his pants and they fell around his knees. His smile changed quickly, however, as the girl nimbly reached around and grabbed his wallet, laughing at him and heading down a little hall to the back exit.

Dzyuba stumbled after her, pulling up his pants along the way. Barging out the back door he looked around the dim and dingy alley, and listened. Then he saw her come out from behind a dumpster, his wallet in one hand and cash from it in the other. She looked startled and turned, running to her right, Dzyuba in hot pursuit.

He rounded the back of a building and stood panting in the dark, clearly dead-end alley way.

“C’mon, Missy. I know you’re here. Come out an’ mebbe I go easy on ya’”

“Hey Asshole,” Dzyuba spun around to face the voice behind him.

“You…” he started, before a blade sliced into his kidneys from behind, courtesy of The Ghost. Dzyuba went down to his knees, just as Aquina reached him, grabbing a handful of his hair, and yanking his head back. He clawed the air with his long, bony fingers.

“Wha…” he began, before Aquina plunged a regular steak knife into his chest, memories of Jade Dawkins flooding back. She withdrew the knife and placed it in a baggie, then stared down at the man on his knees in the alley. Dzyuba had grabbed his chest, then tried to speak, but collapsed forward.

Aquina and The Ghost, who a few minutes earlier had been the young man in the bar, dragged the body behind the dumpster. “It’s appropriate,” Aquina said, taking the cell phone out of Dzyuba’s pocket before handing The Ghost an envelope with five thousand dollars in it.

“Nice doing business with you, Aquina…you ever decide to change your line of work…”

Aquina smiled, “Yeah, I know how to get a hold of you.” And then he was gone. Hmmm, like a ghost, Aquina thought. Just then the young woman approached her and the two began walking down the alley to the street. The girl handed Aquina Dzyuba’s money and wallet.

“Keep the cash,” Aquina said, removing two credit cards and tossing the wallet into another dumpster just before the alley’s end. It was dark here and both women were in shadow. Aquina handed the girl her envelope; this one holding $2500 and two bus tickets; one to Denver and a second from Denver to L.A.

“So you won’t be back?” Aquina asked the girl.

“No way, I’m gone.”

“That’s not your hair either, I take it?”

“Ha, nope. I have a change in my bag here. When I come out of the washroom in the depot I’ll be blonde and looking like a college preppie. And when I get off in L.A., I’ll be someone else again.”

“Good,” Aquina said, and watched as the girl moved quickly down the dark streets. She then did the same, reaching her car in five minutes. As she pulled away she noticed someone following; Garth. Aquina drove several blocks then went down another alley. Stopping and getting out, she crushed Dzyuba’s cell phone on the ground and stuffed it and the baggie with the knife into a garbage bag, then shoved the bag back into a container. She and Garth then drove across town and stopped at a bar. She needed a drink.

After the server had brought their second round, Garth raised his glass, but Aquina spoke, “Revenge…is a confession of pain.”

“Right,” Garth murmured, clinking her glass.


Meredith looked at the nurses scurrying around on her floor. ‘Master Jessie’ had tasked her with an assignment, and since she wanted to keep the gun a couple of extra days, she felt she needed to complete the task. The reason Meredith was eying the nurses was that she needed to find one and have her sign her name in black marker directly on her shaved pubic region, as per her ‘Master’s’ instructions; it looked like Jessie was making a point.

With her shift just coming to an end, Meredith needed to act. She and two other nurses or nurse’s assistants were heading into the staff area where the staff lounge and lockers were located. Once in the room and after taking a breath, Meredith announced to both women; one a fairly tall, more mature nurse (mid-thirties) and the other a probationary like Meredith, average height, a little on the chunky side and early twenties.

“Ladies, I have an embarrassing request and hopefully one of you can assist me.” They both turned to observe her, the taller woman with some alarm and the younger one with more interest. Meredith explained that she had lost a bet and needed to get a signature in “an intimate area”.

Both women laughed, blushed a little, looked down, then both responded, “I could help you,” at the same time. Each then looked at the other and both laughed.

“Vicki, you guard the door and I’ll go first, then you,” the taller one offered.

“Sure thing,” Vicki replied, smiling and taking a position near the door. One could wonder what she intended to do if someone entered but, whatever; she was ready.

The other woman now took Meredith by an arm and moved her over to a couch. “Lay down,” she instructed. “Now lift up your uniform.” Meredith did, and the woman, Sandy, smiled at the tattoo, then rubbed her hand over it, smiling directly at Meredith. She then bent down and gently kissed Meredith’s pussy, running her tongue up and down the slit.

Signing her name, she called, “Okay Vicki, your turn.”

Sandy went to guard and Vicki came to the couch, kneeling down right beside Meredith. She too touched the tattoo and then squeezed the pubic area, gently stroking Meredith’s labia, eliciting a low moan from her. “Oh, we like that do we, little lesbo? I think I may need to look at this again,” and Vicki also bent forward and kissed Meredith’s pussy, before signing her name.

Jessie should be happy with two signatures, Meredith mused, getting to her feet and thanking the two women. They both smiled at her, and one knew wheels, of one sort or another, were turning in their minds.


Saturday Aquina wanted for herself, and so she was meeting Claire. They were going to dinner and then back to Claire’s. The house could stay quiet this weekend, although the boys along with Kate, Adam and Anna were going to be there; and apparently Kevin had invited Mindi and, big news to everyone, especially Aquina, Brandon had a friend coming over; Lindsay(!).

So, the house would be far from empty; but it wouldn’t need Aquina.

With any luck, Dzyuba’s body would stay undiscovered for a few days anyway, making the trail colder. Aquina stepped into the shower; it was very nice to have an actual date to prepare for.


“Unh, Unh, Unh, Unh”, Mistress Jane was grunting as she drove her purple dildo into Meredith’s pussy. Meredith was grunting as well, but more quietly. Jessie watched from a nearby chair; when Jane was finished, she was going to take over.

A knock on the door summoned her and she went up the stairs to the rear entrance. It was her friend ‘Jo’; the most butch girl Jessie knew. With her ‘slave week’ ending (Meredith had begged for three more days with the gun), Jessie had countered with three more slave days; she wanted to give Meredith a real workout, and see if she genuinely wanted to continue as her sex slave.

Jo was going to use Meredith tonight, and she was not gentle. Large and aggressive, she was what Jessie wanted to test her ‘girl’; her plan was to use Meredith hard for several hours and see how she reacted.

Jessie watched with interest as Jo stripped down, revealing fairly large breasts (like Jane) and the hairiest bush Jessie had ever seen. “Don’t believe in trimmin’; like things natural,” Jo had remarked to Jessie’s look.

Jane paused for a moment, nodding to the new arrival, who sat on the couch. She then moved Meredith and positioned her with her face in Jo’s substantial patch. Once Meredith had begun eating her way through the ‘forest’, Jane slid her dildo back into the girl and began her steady rhythm once again. “Unh, Unh, Unh, Unh”.

Jessie sipped her beer, a smile on her face.


Aquina kissed Claire’s mouth, as softly as possible. She held her face so her nose and Claire’s nose were touching; Aquina wanted the two of them to breathe the same air, she wanted to draw Claire’s breath into herself. She then sucked Claire’s tongue, softly at first, then with more force, with Claire moving her body beside her in response, before she opened her eyes; such a beautiful face, Aquina thought.

She wanted to stop time and suck this moment, this tenderness, this feeling into herself; to force out the persistent shadows that were there. Maybe it was time; time to change all that she had been…or not. Did her feelings have that power? Harriet Smith’s face came to her mind and Aquina struggled with her emotions, thinking of her last exchange with Shareen.

But Aquina’s thoughts were interrupted by Bobbi, as she came and snuggled in to Claire from the other side.

“Ummmmmmnn”, Claire moaned, “This is nice, I am a sandwich.” Bobbi reached around and fondled a nipple.

“What kind?” she asked.

“Whatever kind you want,” Claire laughed, “Like I said, I’m a cooperative girl.” She looked into Aquina’s eyes.

After a few minutes of silently lying together, Claire turned gently and looked at Bobbi, noting the steady breathing of sleep, and decided to venture a question. “Why, did you want those women to do those things to you, A?” Claire asked softly.

Aquina lay in thought; this was why she hesitated letting Claire know of her…other life. “It’s  complicated, sweets, but it’s all about, um, need, I guess.”

Claire lay thinking of Aquina ordering her to lift her dress for Bobbi’s view, and how much it had aroused her. Would she like to be on her knees, as her ‘mistress’ punished her?

“You liked, um, drinking their…piss?” She asked quietly, keenly aware of her own feelings.

Aquina sighed in consideration. How much to say? “It’s, uh, very arousing to kneel before a woman you feel, um, something deeply for, and want her to piss on you. It’s not about drinking piss, it’s not that simple. It’s the submission.”

Claire considered. “And the submission turns you on?” She asked, bringing Aquina’s hand into her crotch.

“Yes, it’s the submission. The giving yourself completely to someone, giving them control over, well, everything.

Claire closed her eyes, then decided, and with a smile murmured, “I would like to do it, A. Be on my knees for a woman.” Aquina regarded her lover with a little surprise, also surprised that the woman’s pussy was very lubricated. Or should she really be surprised, she pondered?

She kissed Claire’s face one more time, images surging in her mind.


Sunday, eleven AM; Meredith was back in place outside of Jake’s house. She knew she needed to do something; she was being pressured from two sides. One side was her desire to retaliate against this despicable man who had done such horrible things to her family. Her father had not left the house since the incident; doing some work at home but mostly just drinking. Her mother seemed on the edge of madness. He deserved…punishment. Justice?

For her part, Meredith was feeling okay, although the other pressure she felt was coming from Jessie. Meredith knew what Jessie was doing, raising the stakes, forcing her to give in…or go away; for good.

Meredith had mixed feelings; she had actually enjoyed the days of servitude and sex; and it had excited her to humiliate herself at work. She knew Vicki and Sandy would both want to follow up with her; and that aroused her, a lot. Just thinking of that had her hand sliding between her legs; then she remembered her ‘Master’, and stopped herself. That wouldn’t have happened before.

And last night. Wow. Although her ass (both Jessie’s friends had gone to this hole eventually, and used it for a long while) was a little sensitive, last night had been an incredible night of sex. She had experienced three wonderful orgasms; the relentless fucking she had been subject to had taken her to another level. As the three women had used her, really used her, she had gone farther into submission than ever before…and been rewarded with ecstasy. It had really been…incredible and had driven away some of the darkness from…him. The bastard.

But what did she want??

At that moment however, her thoughts were interrupted by Jake Tucker, leaving his house.


Adam gently grabbed Anna around the waist, before digging his fingers into her sides. She squealed, then covered her mouth with a hand, laughing as quietly as she could. In a moment, Adam moved his hands from Anna’s waist to her breasts as he kissed the back of her neck. Anna pushed back into him, squeezing the hand that held her breast, a smile on her face, her eyes closed.


In the living room, Kevin turned on both T.V.s, and sat back on the couch, sipping his coffee, making up his mind.


In Lindsay’s apartment, the leggy, blonde woman was watching as Brandon devoured his bacon and eggs, leaning her tall frame against the cupboards. She loved watching a man eat, and after the night they had had, she knew why this man might be hungry. He looked up and smiled at her. This is…nice, he thought. She’s nice, and nice isn’t bad. He probably didn’t derive someone nice, like her.

“More coffee?” Lindsay asked.

“Absolutely,” Brandon replied, pushing his mug forward.


In the shower, Claire and Aquina slowly moved the soap suds around each other’s bodies, getting in all the crevices, taking their time. Claire was extra gentle on Aquina’s pubic area; although it had greatly improved, there was still bruising. Suddenly the shower door opened enough to allow a dark head to intrude. “Any room in here for me?”

Both women laughed, and opened their arms to welcome Bobbi in.


“I’m ready,” Kate whispered, eyes closed. She was naked, lying on Eric’s bed, her legs spread.

“Are you sure, Katie?” Eric spoke quietly into her ear, his face in her hair, drinking in her fragrance.

“Yes, I am sure, E. I want you inside me. I want you to …make love to me. I do.”


Just as Eric gently slid his erection into Kate’s dark-brown hair-covered vagina, Jake Tucker was closing the door to his house. Meredith was staring at him, and for good reason. He was dressed in a military camouflage outfit, an ammunition belt across his chest. His large hunting knife was in a sheath on his belt. He carried his shotgun in one hand as he headed for his jeep.


As Adam gently slid a hand under Anna’s bra and cupped her breast, Jake backed down his driveway and put the car in drive, heading down his alley.


Five minutes later, as Lindsay sat down on Brandon’s lap and put her arms around his shoulders, Jake took a gulp of vodka from the flask he had brought, and turned onto the expressway.


Five minutes after that, as Aquina, Claire and Bobbi all tumbled together onto the bed, drying each other with fluffy towels and laughing, Jake turned off the expressway onto the road that would lead to the house.


As Kevin changed the channel, settling on a golf program, Jake Tucker was pulling up, just down the street from the house, and Meredith Delmare, following, was slowing down and then parking several houses back, still unsure of what was happening.


In an alley by the waterfront, an employee of ABC Pawn, working a Sunday shift, was back there having a quick smoke when he noticed what looked like a man’s shoe, sticking out from behind a dumpster. He looked around the edge cautiously, stared for a moment, then threw up.


In her elegant home, Olivia Carruthers, ‘Mrs. Belvedere’, smiled at the news she had just received; her New York assistant was positive one of the men who had taken her shipment was a cop. She felt certain, in time, she would find justice for herself; she had connections everywhere, including the police department.


In his basement, Michael Delmare looked bleakly at the empty bottle in his hand; he and Jake Tucker, it turned out, were both drinking vodka. Now what? He wondered.


Jessie Torres was looking at the pictures she had taken last night. Fuck! She could not believe how hot they were. She wanted Meredith, she had to admit that to herself; but, would she have her? And where was her slave now?


Shareen Macgregor looked down at the head of the young intern she had brought home last night, as the girl worked diligently between her legs. It was nice, very nice actually, and she might even try a little discipline later. Her mind went however to the text exchanges with Aquina. She smiled.


Jake Tucker took one last swallow from his flask, took a moment to screw the top back on, and then eased his large frame out of his Jeep Cherokee and headed up the walk, shotgun crooked in his left arm, an odd smile on his face. Happy anniversary to me, he thought.

Meredith watched in disbelief. What was this asshole up to???

Without really considering her actions, she grabbed the handgun lying beside her and got out of her vehicle, stumbling briefly in her haste on the wet road, before crossing the street and heading to the house.


Meanwhile, Brad Smithfield’s home phone rang. “Hello?”

“Mr. Smithfield?”


“Sorry to call you at home, sir, but I have a note to inform you of anything to do with…Captain, um, D-zyuba.”

“Yeah, right, thanks. That’s Duh-zoo-buh. What is it?”

“Well, station got a call from his wife this morning, sounding very agitated. Seems he hasn’t come home, since Friday night.”

“No shit, that is strange. Okay, thanks again and keep me informed.” What the hell’s up now, Smithfield wondered, hanging up.


Bobbi had gone out to get some milk and Aquina looked at Claire’s face as the woman lay on her stomach on the bed, her lovely bare ass sitting so round and inviting.

Claire held the gaze, “Would you like to, spank me, A?” she asked, feeling a strange surge as she uttered these words, especially considering Aquina’s, history.

Aquina sighed, almost a moan. “Would you like me to, my love?” She asked, conflicted. Claire had such a beautiful ass.

Claire considered this, then said, “I would.” And for a fleeting moment imagined herself on her knees. Strange? “And you could tie my hands first. I, um, would like that.”

Aquina smiled and gently shook her head; she could never do that. Why? Why??


Jake tried the front door; unlocked as expected. He listened; no real noise; television on? He opened the door and entered quietly. Moving to his left, he entered the living room and saw Kevin’s head. Kevin, sensing something, turned around just as Jake brought the shotgun to his hip.

Due to inexperience or excitement, who knows, Jake’s shot sprayed the corner of the couch and took out a chuck of wall in a doorway, but Kevin, diving desperately from the couch, took the remaining pellets in one shoulder, hit the ground, and then began rising to his knees.

As he came up, Jake yelled “Son of a bitch”, and swung his shotgun, driving the butt hard into Kevin’s midsection. He then brought the barrel down across the man’s back.

Reaching for his knife, he heard a yell behind him and turned to see Adam, with Anna standing a couple of feet back, both looking terrified.

“AAAAhhh, you fuckers!” Jake roared and turned and stepped, catching Adam as he tried to block Anna from the man. Grabbing Adam by the throat with one of his massive hands, Jake lifted the slim man off the ground and hauled him into the bedroom Anna had just disappeared into.

At this moment, Meredith entered, pulse blasting and beginning to feel light-headed, but driven on by some inner force and the sudden explosion inside. She glanced over at the fallen figure of Kevin, but carried on down the hall after Jake.

In the bedroom there was much confusion.

Anna was screaming at Jake to leave Adam, Jake was simply roaring like a deranged animal, before he noticed something that made him stop and stare. Anna was holding a gun. Terrified, little, pathetic cunt Anna had a gun in her hands, he marvelled.

For her part, Anna was holding the ‘Deuce Deuce’ as her mistress had instructed her. Feet apart for balance, right hand holding the gun, left hand supporting.

Jake threw Adam down to the floor like a doll, where the man tried desperately to get some air down his damaged throat and into his lungs. Jake meanwhile was staring at Anna, then suddenly with a roar he started towards her.

“BANG!!” the shot was louder than Anna expected, and she closed her eyes briefly, but held the gun. When she looked up, she saw Jake standing, a look of surprise on his face. On his shirt, above his right nipple, a red stain had begun to spread. Looking down at it he shook his head, like his eyes were playing tricks. Then he looked up, and his face darkened into a menacing scowl, and he began to raise his shotgun.

“BANG!!!” This shot came from the doorway, where Meredith had now appeared. Since it was a larger caliber gun than Anna’s the sound was louder, almost deafening. Meredith had not expected the recoil and dropped the gun, bending now to retrieve it. The bullet though had struck Jake just under his left shoulder blade. The force of it had spun him and he dropped the shotgun to grab his shoulder, but then turned back, lunging toward Anna.

“Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Click! Click! Click…


Click. Click…

Anna’s head was swimming, lights were flashing, there was a voice coming from somewhere.


Got to stop him, she thought. Got to stop him. Got to…

“Anna, let go of the gun. Anna. It’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay.” Anna turned to the voice; it was Adam, on his knees but with his hand on hers, now gently removing the gun from her grasp. He sat her on the bed and then went to the strange girl who had come in shooting, taking her gun from her clenched hand with some difficulty and gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Who, um, are you?” He asked, his mind struggling to remain coherent. She looked up at him, eyes unfocused, and then crawled to the corner and began throwing up.

Adam looked around the room, then sank to the floor, silently regarding the massive form lying beside him, before Anna came and put her arms around him.

(End of Chapter 26)

Posted on

A House of Slaves by LongDarkRoad Chapter 25 If You Have Wings

A House of Slaves 

Chapter 25

If You Have Wings (Who Knows)

Aquina ended the call with thoughts of Claire in her mind, including the earlier request to see Aquina being punished; that was a little odd. Then she looked at her cell and brought up the last exchange from… Miss Shareen. Aquina considered why she had not deleted it, though the reason was obvious; she had just forced herself not to consider the why.

She did admit that she had really enjoyed going down on the woman. Lying to herself wouldn’t change anything. The action, the kissing and licking while on her knees, of this particular woman, still meant something. Well, more than something. Okay, a lot more; so what to do??

Shaking herself back to the present, she looked around to see what needed doing now, then headed to the kitchen.


Anna was holding her little gun and just looking at it. “That thing makes me nervous,” Adam complained.

“It’s from Aquina, so it’s okay,” Anna replied softly. “Besides, I know how to handle…guns. J- um, my husband, er, my ex-husband, made me play with his gun all the time; loading and unloading it, cleaning it. He made me stand, um, naked of course, and hold it and not move. He made me put it, inside myself, you know. Everything but shooting it.” She smiled.

Adam nodded and looked away.


Down the hall, Dzyuba was man-handling the petit Heather; he had her short dress bunched up above her waist and he was rubbing his erection between her thighs, with Heather protesting but still unsure of how to get him off. Although she didn’t want to, she offered to suck him.

“Sure, little ho’,” Dzyuba suddenly accepted, spinning

Heather around and forcing her to her knees before shoving his cock in her mouth.

In the kitchen, Pamela Kwong and Aquina had gotten into a discussion about zoning bylaws. With both Kevin and Eric looking to invest in real estate in their home city as their first option, getting info right from the source was very helpful.

As the two women chatted, Mary came over and kissed first one, then the other, before carrying on with picking up. The discussion ended minutes later with Pamela saying she would find out more. Then Mindi headed past them with some glasses, asking, “Anyone seen Heather?”

Aquina looked around, she hadn’t, where was she?


Meredith arrived at Jessie’s place, the young woman not living far from her. Jessie rented the lower level of a bungalow in a residential house near the University Hospital, where Meredith was working. She was wearing her nurse’s training uniform as instructed by Jessie, her ‘master’. She let herself in and proceeded downstairs. Jessie was waiting, standing in her tiny kitchen and holding a beer.

The young woman was several inches taller than Meredith, one of the things that had been an attraction for her, and she was slim, muscular and masculine, with short, dark brown, curly hair and olive-colored skin. Her parents had emigrated from Mexico shortly before Jessica was born.

In high school, Jessie had been the captain of the girl’s wrestling team. Most people would just assume she was a lesbian; she had, however, dated boys and had even had a steady. But, she also liked girls, in a certain way. She and Meredith had formed an unlikely friendship; their general interests were quite different; but it had been built around sex and role-playing.

After leaving high school, they had been an on-again off-again thing, with Meredith at one point living as Jessie’s ‘maid’ or servant. For whatever reason, that hadn’t worked out; partly because Meredith had met a guy she liked; but the two had always stayed in touch and would hang together.

Jessie found Meredith very irritating with her erratic changing of personal plans, but she seemed to always take her back; and the kinky sex was always very good.

Jessie stood now looking at Meredith, dressed in her  uniform as directed, and wondered, how serious is she this time? “Lift up your dress.”

“Yes, my master,” Meredith responded, lifting her uniform to reveal her naked body, and her new tattoo, which she had actually begun to like. But from a psychological point, Meredith desperately needed to take the meaning of this marking away from ‘the monster’ and place it with someone else.

She needed something, an act of passion, stronger than the humiliation she had endured, but she really didn’t know if Jessie was the one to perform it.

And she also had a request of her own; so, it might all work out.


Heather was now struggling desperately. She didn’t want Dzyuba to fuck her and that was clearly his plan. “Let me go, or I’ll scream,” she hissed back at the man as he pressed her down on the bed from behind, holding her with one large hand while he pulled her thong down with another.

“No, you won’t, Missy, no you won’t,” Dzyuba shushed back at her, pressing her face hard down into a pillow with his forearm as he positioned his cock behind her, surprising and alarming Heather by beginning to force himself up her ass. She struggled now, although her slim, small frame was no match for his, and she was also having a hard time breathing, as the man’s weight pressed her face deeper into the pillow.

Dzyuba had managed to force his cock into the tight opening and he became almost frenzied as he held her down; his large hand now holding her neck and head in place, as he bucked his hips.

* * * *

Not being able to spot Heather, Aquina had gone to her den/office and was now checking her camera feeds. When she saw what was happening in bedroom three, she froze and then turned and hurried downstairs.

“Aaaahhh, AAAhhhrrrg, Ah! AAAHHhhhh…” Dzyuba cried out and collapsed on top of Heather, pinning the girl beneath his lanky body. Suddenly the door burst open and Aquina charged in.

“Get off her, you fucking pig,” Aquina snarled, closing the door behind her.

Dzyuba slowly rolled over and looked through half-closed eyes at the fury that was addressing him. “Wh-what. Wha…no problem, Missy. No…”

Aquina roughly shoved him over and grabbed Heather by the shoulder, turning her face up. “Heather. Heather!” Aquina slapped the girl’s face, then pressed her fingers on her neck artery. She froze again.

Turning to glare at Dzyuba’s stunned face, venom in her eyes, rage and despair rising in her throat, she spat out. “She’s dead, you fucking, stupid, fucking asshole. You’ve killed her, you dumb, disgusting prick.”


“I like that.” Jessie crooned, regarding Meredith’s tattoo and thinking, fuck, that’s hot. “Take the dress right off.” She sipped her beer as she watched her slim playmate strip. She loved Meredith’s body, it was so different from her own. It was…feminine. And that tat, ‘SLAVE’, was sick.

Jessie moved languidly a couple of steps, it was a galley kitchen, nothing was far apart, and opened a drawer; this would be a test. She took the collar out and looked at Meredith standing, nipples jutting out, pussy shaved and tatted. She tossed her the collar.

“Put it on.”

Meredith paused; she didn’t like wearing this; it had been the cause of their argument before. It said ‘Doggy’ on it, which wasn’t the problem. She didn’t really know what the problem was, but it was odd, with what she had just gone through, putting on the collar was now no big deal; but she decided to try for some leverage.

“Okay, my master. I…um, I will put this on and I agree to be your servant…for a week. You can…um, use me and I will obey you. You can punish me and…sh-share me with your friends, but I have one simple request, apart from being gentle with my tat.”

Jessie sipped her beer. Her heart was beating rapidly; she had waited a long time to hear Meredith say what she just had. “Alright, let’s hear your…request, little slave girl.”

“I…need to borrow your gun. Just for a couple of days. Just for protection. I’ll bring it back at the end of the week.”

Jessie looked at the girl for a long while…what was up? Still, to have Meredith as her toy for a week, and all it would cost her was a gun she never used…shit.

“You’ll need to live here…to, uh…serve me.”

“Okay, I agree to that.” Meredith was working hard to control her breathing and to appear calm.

Jessie now strolled out of the room, returning in a moment with a handgun. “This is a Smith & Wesson .32 caliber semi-automatic pistol; you ever use a gun?”

“Ye-yes I have. The semi-autos load after each firing, correct?

Jessie regarded Meredith, “I thought you said you just needed protection?”

“I do, but I also need to be sure how things…work.”

“Okay, Slave, and that will be your name for this week, wherever we are, I don’t care who’s around, you will call me Master and I will call you Slave. Around here you will be naked at all times, no matter who comes over. You are not allowed to close any door here, especially the bathroom, and you will not touch your pussy without asking my permission.” Jessie regarded the other, “Do you agree?”

Meredith looked up at Jessie and smiled, “Yes, Master,” she said quietly, putting on the collar.

****          ****          ****

Aquina stood in the silent, wooded space. It was still dark and she held the flashlight for Garth and Buddy. Brandon was the first person she had spoken to once the shock of Heather’s death had registered and the need to respond had taken over. Brandon had hustled Dzyuba out the back and Aquina had then called Garth.

Leaving Heather wrapped in a sheet, and staying as ‘normal’ as possible, Aquina had directed Pamela to take Mindi, Bobbi and Mary home. No one asked about Heather, then, as one girl or another would sometimes stay. Or go somewhere else.

Kate and Eric, their odd relationship deepening, had already left. Aquina decided to tell Kevin later. When Garth arrived, he had carried Heather’s body easily and quietly to his truck, Aquina joining him and Buddy following in his own car.

They had decided on a place to bury the body and that’s where they were now. Aquina had begun the sad affair by stripping Heather completely and bagging her clothes. She had then walked away, not wanting to witness the next terrible and gruesome part, as Garth and Buddy cut off Heather’s hands and…head; Buddy would take the gruesome remains somewhere else for disposal.

They would bury the body in this lonely spot, and Aquina was now holding the light as Garth lowered it  into the quickly dug and shallow pit. They dumped in a fifty pound bag of lye, and then proceeded to shovel in dirt.

As they pulled the cut section of turf back into place and stepped down on its edge, Garth looked over at Aquina. “You want to, say something, A?”

Aquina walked over, and pulled out a piece of paper from a pocket. She looked at him; their faces hard, hiding the pain.

“This is a poem, well, part of a poem I found in a newspaper, long ago. My mom yelled at me for ‘reading that shit’, and then threw the paper away and I was only able to save the last part. I’ve kept it all these years. I don’t know why.”

She paused, Garth put his arm around her and Buddy looked away at the night sky and the stars that still shone. A gentle breeze blew, moving the branches of the nearby trees and there was a sliver of moon out as well.

“I got ya’ Aquina, you know that, I always got ya’,” Garth whispered against Aquina’s hair.

Aquina shuddered, briefly, “I know Garth. I’m so grateful. So, so bloody grateful for your friendship.” She hugged him for a moment and then they broke gently apart, walking to stand beside the grave, the three standing together in silence.  

Aquina paused, swallowed, and then read, in a quiet but steady voice “Heather…the hourglass is but a thing, it is we who are of sand. Yet, we toil and grind upon this barren land; while above us there is sky…if you have wings, then fly.”

Garth put a large hand on Aquina’s shoulder and Buddy picked up the bag, nodding to them as he headed for his car.

And for the second time in a short while, bitter tears streaked Aquina’s face.


Meredith was lying beside Jessie who, after her third orgasm, was feeling very (very) mellow. She was gently stroking Meredith’s long hair as her ‘slave’ lay cradled in her arm.

“So, tell me…Slave; why do you really need the gun?”

“It’s for protection, Jes; um, Master. I will be meeting someone who is a little scary and I want something, for my protection.”

Jessie considered this for a moment. “Hey, I could come with you.”

Meredith propped herself up on one elbow, “That’s…like really kind, Master.” Meredith smiled and kissed Jessie’s face. “But I don’t want to get anybody else involved. I need to do this; just me, and I’m not even sure of which day, so…thanks, but just lending me the gun is great. Really.”

Jessie looked at her friend and lover, who had always seemed young and innocent, even though Jessie knew she was anything but innocent. Still, a sliver of doubt ran through her for some reason.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna work for that gun, my little pussy pleaser. Come here.” And she pulled Meredith to her small breast.


Garth and Aquina sat on a bench; it would soon be light. They had grabbed coffees, but because Aquina wanted to smoke they got them to go. Garth pulled a flask from inside his jacket and dosed both cups with the amber fluid.

“Heather,” Garth murmured quietly.

“Heather,” Aquina replied, her voice husky, touching his cup. They drank and passed a moment of silence.

“So, what’s your plan, A?”

Aquina sat staring ahead, then spoke in the same calm voice. “I’m going to kill the bastard.”

Garth drank some coffee. “Figured. Don’t guess I could talk you out of it?”

“Not a chance. I’m already on it.”

Garth considered this comment for a moment. “You… planning to use, The Ghost.”

Aquina turned to look at her large friend. “You really do know me too well.” She paused, taking a long drag. “Yeah, I already made some calls. I’m meeting him tomorrow night.”

Garth finished his coffee. “If you’re meeting The Ghost, I’m comin’ too.”

“Figures,” Aquina nodded, smiling. “Don’t guess I can…talk you out of it?”

“Not a chance,” Garth smiled and gave Aquina’s arm a squeeze.


So the cover story was simple; only Brandon and Kevin were told the truth; not even Eric, yet.

‘Heather had doped Dzyuba and taken his wallet and was now on the run. Everybody needed to just stay normal; they would find her and…yadda yadda.’

The girls were upset, but the story held and things went on.

“What are you going to do, A?” Brandon had asked.

“Don’t worry, babe. Things are taken care of.”

“What…um, what did you do…with her? With…Heather?” Brandon persisted, quietly.

“Hey, you don’t need to know. No point in getting you into it. Stay clear and uninvolved. I will look after things, as always.”

Brandon sighed and nodded. “Um, so what about…Dzyuba?”

“Not your problem, Babe,” Aquina said, and headed for her office.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Aquina. Don’t…” But she had already gone into her room.


Brad Smithfield was just about ready to move; in his mind there was no doubt; Brandon Park, and likely his partners Eric Park, Kevin Riggs and Jake Tucker, were guilty of theft, extortion, and trafficking, at the very least; but he wanted more on Dzyuba; if he was involved. Taking down the four young officers and not him was pretty meaningless in Smithfield’s mind.

Just a few more days, the man told himself; just a few more days.


Meredith sat in her car just down from the modest bungalow on this quiet block. Who knew that a monster lived there, she thought? His Jeep was parked in the back, confirming what Meredith had discovered. Using her memory of being taken to his house and his licence plate number, she did not have a lot of trouble tracking him down; but now, could she do what she planned?

The gun was on the seat beside her; she took it with her every time she went out, even to the hospital, where she hid the gun under her seat. With her schedule, this week was eleven AM to eight PM, and with Jessie being a bartender, they actually hadn’t seen much of each other. So Meredith had been able to pursue her plans.

One scenario she considered was just waiting behind his car and shooting him as he approached; but that required a lot of, well, waiting. This was the second night Meredith had come by and his car was parked both times; so the man must be on day shift this week, she reasoned.

As she drove away, Meredith made plans to come by next morning. She only had the gun for a few more days.


Aquina had met The Ghost Monday night. Hers was a different relationship with him than many, as she had helped him several years ago, when he was just getting started on his assassin-for-hire career. He had made a mistake and been cornered, and Aquina had helped him get out, not even knowing who he was, but knowing the guys after him were people she didn’t like.

The Ghost had remembered and when Aquina put her name out to the very few who he might have contact with, he responded.

The Ghost had earned his name because he was a master at disguise; some said he was a make-up artist working in movies before he ‘crossed over’; whatever, he changed his appearance remarkably and stayed off anyone’s radar.

He had stopped doing hits in town several years ago, with travelling to other cities being the safer scenario; but for Aquina, he would make an exception. But interesting for him, Aquina wanted to be there, for the kill. He agreed, saying that would make them…even.

“When?” he asked simply.



Jake was growing antsy; since the night with the Delmares, he had just gone to work, done his patrolling and gone home. There had been no incidents this week, it had been quiet and the time was dragging by.

Three more days, he told himself. Three more days.


Jessie was a little annoyed that her ‘slave’s’ schedule and her own meant they had very little time together. Although they slept together, and Jessie made a point of waking Meredith and fucking her no matter what time she made it home. That still wasn’t the same as what she had in her mind.

So tonight, she had given Meredith instructions to meet her at ‘The Green Onion’, a fast-food place near her bar (Schnagel’s). Jessie had also invited one of her bi-gal pals; she wanted to show off her new/old toy.


With only one day to go, Aquina was looking after details. She had decided, for example, to remove the cameras and mics from the rooms and store them away. She had also contacted everyone and said this weekend was dark as they continued to search for Heather.

She had heard from The Ghost and he had an associate ready so they were ‘On Green’ for tomorrow, and just awaiting instructions.

She had only spoken with Claire once; it was hard to even think of her with what Aquina had in her mind. Oddly, though, she had texted…Miss Shareen, in the early morning after…Heather. She had needed to connect to someone, and it couldn’t be Claire.

“You think all I need is time,” Aquina had typed then paused, her mind in conflict, before sighing and typing ‘Mistress’, then sending off the message, aware of the jolt that produced. Shareen Macgregor would always be her mistress, whether she was serving her or not.

It was an hour before the reply came, as Aquina lay on her bed, unable to sleep. “You don’t need to decide, yet, but you do need to consider, so, yes, time.”

Aquina had pondered this, then replied. “Time doesn’t change what happened.”

The reply was much quicker this time. “No, but it softens the pangs of emotion. Now that you’ve had a little time, if you can honestly say you do not feel at home on your knees with me, then just delete this and have done with me. But even now I know you’re thinking of my pussy and how it tastes; how good, how complete, you feel serving it. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Aquina had then lay in confusion, the memory of Heather’s death suddenly rising within her; she had made it to the bathroom in time, and when she had finished retching, and brushed her teeth and calmed down, she had looked again at the message as she lay naked on her bed.

She sighed and typed “Please send me a shot of your pussy, Miss Shareen. Please.”

In a moment the image of the shaved, pink labia had arrived and Aquina had smiled, shook her head in wonder and drifted off to sleep, her hands between her thighs. ****

Meredith entered the restaurant and saw Jessie and another young woman sitting at a corner table. The woman looked to be mid-twenties, short straight brown hair combed in a masculine style, parted on the side. She had black-rimmed glasses and from the way her shirt swelled, fairly large breasts.

When Meredith reached the table, Jessie saluted her. “Ah, our slave has arrived. Kneel, Slave.”

Meredith knelt; she was wearing her nurse’s outfit, so a skirt and blouse. Jessie continued, “Mistress Jane, our slave.”

‘Mistress Jane’ acknowledged the arrival with a nod and a smile, then Meredith was directed to the back of their table, with the window behind her. “Raise your skirt to your waist and keep it there. Check out her tat, Jane.” Jessie directed.

Jane placed a hand on Meredith’s crotch and then ran a finger over her tattoo. “Wonderful,” she murmured, her voice having a hint of an accent. Boston? Jane then raised her hand to Meredith’s mouth and had her suck her index finger, which she then ran very gently along the cleft of Meredith’s sex. She lifted Meredith’s face by her chin and pulled her closer, kissing her warmly.

After the meal, Jessie went to Schnagel’s and Meredith took Jane back to the house. Jane had come prepared, bringing a strap-on harness and a collection of dildos which she put to good use, fucking all of Meredith’s holes energetically for the next two hours, before both women lay spent and satisfied on the bed, before drifting off to sleep.

When Jessie came in at three AM, Jane and Meredith were cuddled together, asleep, Jane’s purple dildo still embedded in the slave.



With the man-cave no longer available to him, Dzyuba would likely go to one of the two bars he favored. Both were in a sketchy part of town and Dzyuba preferred them because of the type of hooker who hung out there; rough trade girls who would do most anything, with most anyone, even a Dzyuba, if the money was okay.

Joe’s and Mickey Finn’s were the two most likely, and they were not far apart. Right now Aquina was parked outside of Dzyuba’s house; what she would do if he didn’t go out tonight she wasn’t sure. She’d deal with that if needed. She had had Dzyuba watched for a while after hooking up with Brandon, and his Friday and Saturday bar visits had been a constant if he wasn’t with ‘the boys’.

At around nine o’clock, Dzyuba emerged as a cab pulled up. When they drove off, Aquina was behind them, and Garth was a couple of blocks along; the plan was to alternate in case the paranoid Dzyuba thought he might be followed.

All went well, and as they approached the waterfront, Aquina placed a text to The Ghost.


The cab pulled over in front of ‘Joe’s’ and Dzyuba got out, walking in that peculiar slouch he used, his lanky frame bent forward. Aquina sat with Garth (they had left her car back a couple of blocks) and watched as Dzyuba paused outside to blow his nose.

“Classy as always,” Aquina remarked and Garth snorted.

Dzyuba entered and went to his usual spot at the bar, looking around. The place was still pretty empty and no hookers, yet. He ordered a beer and began sipping it.

A young couple came in, she white and petite with striking black hair and he a young-ish black guy. Dzyuba of course immediately noticed the super short skirt the girl wore and her very nice round ass, just an inch or so above the hem.

Hmmm, mmm, he thought to himself, exactly his piece of tail.

They ordered and sat one stool over.

(End of Chapter 25)

Posted on

A House of Slaves by LongDarkRoad Chapter 24 An Act Of Passion

A House of Slaves 

Chapter 24 

An Act of Passion (Revenge and or retaliation)

Meredith parked her car on one side of the drive-way and hurried into the house.

“Hi you guys, I’m home. Where are you, Mom and Da…” She stopped in her tracks and stared up at the large man blocking her way. Thinking back later, she wondered why she didn’t scream, like they always do in the movies; it was probably because she simply froze, and the next thing she knew a very large hand had closed around her neck and was directing her into the living room.

She stared transfixed and bewildered at the scene before her; both her parents, tied naked, one sitting on a chair, the other tied to the couch. The room swam, she felt the vomit rising in her throat, and then the large hand actually lifted her up and behind a chair where she threw up and then knelt, completely dazed, for a long moment. Then the large hand, holding her by her bunched-up shirt, carried her to the bathroom. A voice then ordered her to clean herself up.

She was next carried/dragged by her shirt again to the living-room doorway and the voice spoke again, telling her to “Get a fucking grip.” At which point she began to wail; but a single stinging, stunning slap brought her back around. The situation was calmly explained to her, as were all the consequences of disobedience, and then she was brought back into the room and she undressed, tears streaming down her face, but complying.

She then stood still, allowing Jake the opportunity to ‘examine’ her; her small, firm tits with large, dark brown areolas; her slim frame with pleasantly rounded buttocks; the dark, brown and thick pubic patch, standing out surprisingly from her crotch. Meredith was unable to face her parents; and they were unable to look at her.

Next thing she knew, she had been forced down before her mother’s spread legs, and was now licking her mother’s vagina. It was not her first vagina, or even her second; Meredith did not make a big deal about her relationships, either with boys or girls, to her parents, who simply would be bewildered by them. But still, this was devastating, especially feeling her mother’s sobs as she was being licked.

Meredith simply focused on giving pleasure, as she had before, and tried desperately not to think of who she was pleasuring. But then, to her horror, the large man who was controlling her, lifted her by her long pony-tail, saying, “Enough of that, now it’s his turn,” and placed her in front of her father. Meredith stared in disbelief at the semi-erect cock inches from her and began to sob, because her father was sobbing, soundlessly as he was gagged, yet his body was moving, throbbing with his sorrow.

The large man grabbed her pony-tail and placed her mouth on the penis and began to move her head up and down, hissing in her ear, “Start sucking or I’ll cut it off and make you eat it.” Shutting out everything, Meredith just focused on the act of sucking, up and down, up and down, and imagined the cock was Drayton’s, the last boy she had had oral sex with.

That young man was very cute, and bi, and Meredith, her friend Jessie, Drayton and his friend Clay had spent one Friday night into Saturday morning having sex in all variations. Slim, young-looking Meredith surprising everyone with her willingness to do anything. She thought of him, his cock, his face, and just sucked and pumped. Her father, however, had his testicles tied off by Jake and was unable to ejaculate, much to Jake’s amusement.

“Okay, you are good at that,” Jake commented. “Looks like you enjoy eating your mom’s pussy and sucking your dad’s cock. That’s good, now c’mon over here.” Jake placed Meredith kneeling before him and she began to now suck his cock. “Are you on the pill?” He asked, and she nodded, without breaking stride in her sucking. “Good.” Jake pulled his cock from her mouth and then positioned Meredith on all fours so her parents could see her and then entered her dog-style as he had her mother.

As he was pounding her, Meredith focused again on the night with Drayton, the most ‘adventurous’ sex night of her young life so far; but, to her growing alarm, she realized she was becoming aroused.

“NO!” she screamed into her mind, and tried to think of other things, anything. Her nursing classes, the fact her car needed service, anything. But then Jake unexpectedly pulled out, much to her relief. It wasn’t for her, though; Jake was saving his orgasm for later.

Jake undid the mom’s hands and re-tied them in front so she could hold his cell phone, which he now gave her, showing her how to take photos and warning her not to mess up. He then explained to Meredith what he wanted from her and what would happen to everyone if he was not happy with her. He then positioned her on his knee and, forcing down the disgust and focusing on the task, Meredith ‘made-out’ with her captor, kissing him, smiling at the camera, opening her legs.

When Jake was satisfied, he dumped the girl on the ground and she sat, body sagged, head down. Jake looked at his cell and was delighted with the pictures. He ungagged the mom and took some photos of her and Meredith kissing and licking each other’s tongues and faces; he had already taken shots of Meredith between her mother’s legs earlier, but he decided he also wanted a couple with the mom actually holding her daughter’s head as she did her thing.

Once that was done he had the mom and daughter both stand as he tied their hands behind them. Bringing out two kitchen chairs, he had the mother and daughter stand on them. He had enough rope left that he was able to tie a loop around the mother’s neck and toss it over one of the beams that ran across their open ceiling, before fastening an end to a large china cabinet.

He then untied the father, goading him into defending his family. The man valiantly tried to attack Jake, but he was so much smaller it was absurd. Jake simply slapped the man’s face, again and again. It is very humiliating to be slapped by another man, especially in front of your wife and daughter, and not be able to do anything. After a couple of minutes, the man simply stayed down, slouching on his knees, blood and spit oozing from his mouth. Jake looked at the mother (both she and Meredith were sobbing again) and asked his name.

“Ah, um…M…Mick-Michael,” The woman stammered.

“Well, well, Mikey, looks like you’re pretty pathetic, doesn’t it, sitting there while your daughter sucks your cock. Watching as another man fucks your wife. Well, let’s see if you’re good for anything. Get on your knees.”

Michael struggled to his knees, his eyes blurry and his face etched in agony. Jake’s cock was hard again, and he placed it against Michael’s lips. “Suck, sissy boy. Let’s see if you’re as good as your daughter.”

With a roar, Michael tried to rise for one last assault, only to be slapped down hard. As Michael looked up from the ground, Jake kicked the chair out from beneath the mother, and she began to swing by her neck.

“NOOooo!!” Meredith screamed.

“No, no, no, God please. No!” Michael bellowed.

Jake easily cradled the woman with one arm, retrieved the chair with his other hand, and placed the woman back.

“One last chance,” Jake warned, grabbing Michael by his hair and squeezing his nose, forcing his still hard cock into Michael’s mouth. He pumped energetically for a few moments, but with all the stimulation he’d had, he was ready, and came fairly quickly.

“Don’t swallow, bitch.” He yelled at Michael, then turned his face and open mouth so the two women could see the white goo laying on Michael’s tongue. “Now swallow, useless slut. At least you’re good at something. Oh look,” Jake pointed, laughing and holding Michael by his hair as he gagged on the semen. “Mikey has another good boner going, he likes it, being my little bitch.”

When Jake let go, Michael simply collapsed on the floor sobbing and completely defeated.


Aquina was watching her computer screen; on it was Pamela and Mary, sitting naked on Pamela’s couch; her home computer now having a camera transmitting back to Aquina just like her office.

“We have missed serving you, Mistress,” Pamela was saying. This time the computer’s mic was working, relaying the audio. Pamela’s earpiece received Aquina’s reply.

“I have been busy, my lovely slaves. But soon I will enjoy you again. I am glad to see you together.”

Both women smiled.


Jake was heading back to his house. He had called in and left a message at his station that he would be away tomorrow; a touch of the ‘flu’; and he had a lot of sick days piled up anyway. He didn’t want to have to rush off to work in the morning.

Sitting in his Jeep, and staring straight ahead, her body rigid with fear, was Meredith.

The final act for the evening saw Jake put both Meredith and (he eventually learned) mom ‘Charlotte’ Delmare, on their knees to suck Michael’s cock one last time. Despite his humiliation and anger, he responded to the two mouths kissing, licking and sucking his battered cock, and when Jake had Charlotte untie the thin rope binding his balls, Michael came with a long, anguished cry; Jake holding Meredith’s head so the entire ejaculation was contained in her mouth.

He held her head in place for over a minute, and then forced her and Charlotte to kiss deeply, before having the women kneel before him. He explained to the three that he would be taking Meredith ‘as insurance’ to make sure they did not do anything foolish, like call the police. He told them he was an officer and flashed his badge, telling them that he would hear if they reported anything, but that Meredith would be returned safely the next day ‘if they were smart’. They both sobbed silently, Charlotte simply sinking to the floor and lying arms clasped around her knees.

Jake had Meredith dress in sweat pants, Tee shirt and sneakers; no panties, bra or socks, and then, with both the parents’ cell phones in his pocket, he directed Meredith out the door and to his Jeep.

“You’d like to kill me, wouldn’t you?” Jake asked with a smirk as they drove.

Meredith did not answer right away. Fighting emotion and the urge to scream at her captor or claw his eyes, she finally replied, “What do you think?” She continued to stare straight ahead.

Jake chuckled, and coming from him, it sounded sinister. “Hey, I wouldn’t blame you. If I were you I’d want to kill me, big time.”

There was a pause before Meredith exploded, “Yes, all right. Yes! I’d love to kill you, fucking right.” She glared at him briefly, then returned to facing forward.

“Ahhh, that’s the spirit,” Jake laughed. “So, what would it be? A knife in my chest? A bullet? Maybe drive your car over me?”

She sat silently, not wanting to take his bait. What was the point? Finally she muttered, “I’d shoot you; in your fat guts, so you’d die slowly.”

Jake laughed, then suddenly pulled over and parked. He un-holstered his Glock, and handed the weapon to Meredith, placing it in her hands and pointing the gun directly back at him. “Go on, then. Do it. Pull the trigger. Blow my fucking brains out. Come On!”

Meredith held the gun, her finger on the trigger. She wanted to. She really wanted to. Her hands began to shake and then tears began running from her eyes once again. Jake took the gun from her hands.

“Didn’t think so,” he grunted, and they drove off. He had never felt more alive.


Friday was busy as usual. Aquina was preparing as tonight there would be seven guests, plus Kate and Anna and the four party girls. Pamela was working out now as someone who could transport the girls, so one less job to worry about. Aquina could now focus with Anna on making sure the food and beverages were well stocked and ready, something Anna enjoyed doing. And today, after a little bit of rearranging, the new seven foot San Fernando Pool table stood awaiting its first players. Kevin and Eric had messed around with it, but tonight would see the first real game, to go along with the poker and the baseball games.

The boys would be in for a surprise if they played her, because Aquina was a very skilled pool player, who might have followed her ability if she hadn’t become close to Sanders, who dissuaded her. She smiled to herself imagining taking them for some dough.


Jake sat in his Jeep, watching the bench at the corner of Clark and Polk streets. Before he released Meredith Wednesday morning, he had made her watch parts of the video and photos he had shot of her ‘in action’, including some he took when he got her back to his place. She hung her head in defeat as image after image showed her doing one graphic sex act after another. Then Jake had made her a deal; meet him Friday and he would not email her college’s website with some of the ‘better action’.

He had watched after he dropped her off at the corner of her block and she walked and then ran to her house, thinking it was fifty/fifty she would show; and then asking himself if he would really publish the photos etcetera. Probably not; too much work.

So today he sat and waited and then just laughed, as the slim figure of Meredith came down the sidewalk, dressed the way he had instructed her; skirt and white blouse. He remembered Jayla and Wanda, and how much more he enjoyed Jayla because he knew how difficult it was for her to submit. Wanda was easy, just like Anna, who he had tired of really after a few months, and why he had to do progressively disgusting things to her; she was so easy.

Meredith had some fire, and it was arousing for Jake to see this girl give in. He honked and rolled down the window, motioning the girl over. He wanted her to come to him, which she did; looking sick. He opened the door and she hesitated, then got in. He drove away before he spoke.

“Good decision…”

“I didn’t have much choice,” she said between gritted teeth.

Jake grinned and they drove in silence for a few blocks, then he asked, “Did you get it?”

Without saying anything she slipped a credit card out of a side pocket. It was her father’s. When she went looking for him, she found him passed out downstairs, an empty bottle of Vodka beside him, so she had had no trouble getting the card. His wallet was still on the table where ‘the monster’ had left it Tuesday night. She had used it before and already knew the pass code.

Jake smiled again. “That’s good. You’ll be done with me soon.”

Meredith stared straight ahead.


Dzyuba was not happy, and he sat in his office, stewing. He had helped the boys, a lot, and now it seemed like he was being shoved off to the sidelines. ‘Don’t touch this girl; don’t do that with that girl; Kate is no longer available. Christ!’ Tonight he planned to do his own thing, and they be damned.    ****          

Jake pulled up outside of a small store in a somewhat shady looking strip mall. The sign said it all, “Tats and Piercings – No Appt.”

“In you go,” Jake pointed.

Meredith looked even more uncomfortable than before, if possible. “Plea-ssee, no…” she begged.

“Hey, this is it. After this I leave you alone. There are lots of other things I could do to you…” Jake warned, and Meredith considered that and believed it to be true.

“So, this is it, for sure?” She looked at him suspiciously.

“Hey, I’m lots of things, but I’m not a liar. This is it. Go in, ask for Della, get your tat and do what she says and then you’re free.”

“And the credit card?”

“Well, someone has to pay for this, and it ain’t going to be me.” Jake grinned again, looking reptilian.

Meredith hesitated, sighed, took a breath, and climbed out, walking quickly to the shop before her nerves gave out. Inside it was dark but not as dingy as she had feared. Two women were there, and one, late forties, looked up and asked, “You…Meredith?”

“Um, y-yes,” she replied.

“This way.” The woman spoke in a monotone and led the way. She was wearing very tight pants that showed off her ample ass, and her tight shirt held two 38C breasts. They went down a short hallway and into a small room with a chair, sort of like a dentist’s, and two kitchen chairs, as well as a sink and cupboards. The woman sat on one chair and indicated Meredith sit on the floor, which she did, hesitantly.

“Okay, Mr. Tucker said you would do a little favor here for me, and then I’ll do your tat at a discount. Get your clothes off.”

Meredith undressed, feeling exposed and vulnerable, and sat back on the floor as the woman tugged down her own pants, revealing a very hairy pussy. The hair was long and black, with hints of grey beginning.

The woman pushed Meredith down so she was lying on the tiled floor and then spread her labia and sucked the folds noisily, before fingering the girl aggressively, and slapping her breasts.

After a few minutes of this, Della murmured, “Okay, slut,” and grabbed Meredith’s head, pushing it down into her crotch where Meredith began to lick, by habit, her tongue going into the crevices and her lips sucking on the woman’s nether lips effectively, if not as loudly.

Della’s pussy had large inner labia that poked out and Meredith focused on these at first, sucking and pulling them, noting Della’s response. Meredith then shifted to the clitoris, which was not much more than a button but was clearly sensitive as Della began to moan and jerk her hips.

If asked, Meredith would likely admit to preferring cock-sucking, because of the sense of ‘success’ when you got a guy to blow; women could have several little orgasms, and sometimes it was uncertain if things were over, but not this time. Della actually gushed, Meredith thinking the woman had urinated, but it was just a lot of ‘pussy juice’ as Meredith and her friends called it, and then Della sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.

She recovered quickly, sitting up and kissing Meredith several times, before sighing and saying, “Okay, down to business.”

She had Meredith lie on the ‘operating chair’ as she prepared her, shaving her pubic region completely. In twenty minutes Meredith was running the credit card and heading out the door, her pubic region now adorned with the word ‘SLAVE’ in Gothic font. Right now her crotch was numbed, but the woman had given her six pain killers for later, saying it usually wasn’t too bad.

Meredith climbed into the car but did not look at the leering face of her nemesis.

“So, let’s see.”

Goddamn, Meredith thought in rage, as tears began leaking from her eyes; Stop Crying!

She lifted her skirt and Jake looked over the work.

“Very nice,” he murmured, “Very, very nice. Now you have something to remember me by.” He took a shot with his cell, “And I have one more shot of you, to go with all the others.”

He laughed and then they drove off.

****      ****

Meredith sat on her bed in just her Tee shirt. Her tattoo was beginning to cause her discomfort, so it was probably time for a pill, but it wasn’t terrible. She held a mirror and looked at the markings from different angles. She actually didn’t mind the ‘branding’, just who had made her do it. Could she live with that? She had learned the asshole’s name: Jake Tucker. She was going to track him, he needed…retaliation, she needed revenge; but he was a cop, so it would be hard. She had to think.

As she sat, she realized that the house was very quiet. She knew her mother and father were here; they had just disappeared into themselves for now. Her mom had come to her for a bit, but even just being together was hard.

The memories were too fresh.

Meredith picked up her cell and called her friend and sometime lover Jessie. After some idle chat, Meredith announced, “I got a tattoo for you.”

“Say whaaaat?” Jessie asked.

“I said, I’ve tattooed myself for you.” Pause.

“Sweet. Does that mean you’ve like, reconsidered?” Jessie asked, caution in her voice.

There was another pause, longer; then Meredith spoke quietly, “Yes.”


The evening was winding down. The poker had been civilized and pleasant, the baseball games essentially ignored, no one played darts but the new pool table was popular, as was the pinball machine. And Dzyuba had stayed low key throughout the evening, only groping a girl a couple of times.

“Not stripping tonight, Heath?” Mindi asked.

“Nah, Aquina said it wasn’t necessary; this group is really more, um, business-like, like.”

“Yeah,” Mindi agreed, “my ass is in good shape,” she grinned.

“Keep your eye on Ol’ Creepy,” Heather warned, nodding at Dzyuba. “The night’s not over yet.”

Mindi nodded in agreement, and the two young women got busy putting away what they could.


“So you need to get your sweet ass over here, lover,” Jessie said.

“My tattoo’s sore, J. Doesn’t tomorrow work?”

“No, Meredith. See, that’s the problem. If you are serious about serving me, and it was your idea, remember, to begin with, then you can’t keep fucking around.” Jessie paused. “It won’t work, so I’m not gonna believe you.”

“Okay, okay…I’m sorry. I actually do want to be with you.” Another pause. “What do you want me to wear?”


Jake sat watching his latest videos; they were unbelievable. His only regret was that he didn’t have someone recording him all the time. He would have loved to have had all the stuff with him and sissy boy Mikey.

Oh well, it probably didn’t matter. He looked up at his calendar; he had circled Sunday the twentieth; his wedding day. Ha! Too fuckin’ crazy. He aimed his shotgun at the T.V. “Ka-Pow,” he said quietly. “A toast for the bride.”

Just a few more days.


“So what are you wearing?” Aquina asked, in a voice barely above a whisper, even though around her was the chatter of the group getting things together and heading off. Claire had called and she wanted to speak with her for a moment, and no one else needed to hear.

Interestingly, after meeting her, Brandon had asked Aquina straight out, “Is Claire, I dunno, your girlfriend or something?” He wasn’t snotty or anything, he just seemed genuinely curious.

Aquina had smiled, mysteriously she imagined, before replying, “Well, she’s a girl…and she’s my friend…”

“Funny,” Brandon had mocked. “Very funny.”

Aquina’s attention was brought back to her conversation. “I’m lying on my bed, alone, so…I’m not wearing…anything,” Claire chuckled.

“I like the sound of that,” Aquina commented, “maybe I will come over and make sure everything is…okay?”

“Would you like me to touch myself, A?” It was Claire’s turn to mock, although she actually was serious.

Aquina needed to control her reaction. “I’m thinking you will anyway,” she chuckled, “and we’ll see, my sweet, if I can get away from here.”

Meanwhile, as the group thinned out, Dzyuba angled himself behind the slim form of Heather Barr. “Your boss sez I get a night cap tonight, baby-girl. C’mon.” And he began herding her toward the nearest bedroom, a hand on her rump.

Because of where they were standing, no one else had noticed.

(End of Chapter 24)

Posted on

A House of Slaves by LongDarkRoad Chapter 23 So Much Older Then

A House of Slaves 

Chapter 23 So Much Older Then (Temptation is a bitch)

“Ah-hah,” Smithfield exclaimed, poring over one of the reports from the bust heists of the ‘Park Gang’, as he now called them. In an interview with a new recruit that had been buried and forgotten under other interviews, one of the two arrested men stated for the record that he thought they had about twenty-five thousand in cash and two boxes of pills, various.

The arrest record turned in by the boys was clear: eighteen thousand and one box of pills. But on closer examination, the pills weren’t ‘various’; they were very specific: Fentanyl and Rohypnol, in bags. The reason Smithfield remembered this was that the Fentanyl in pills was powerful and there were a couple of deaths which brought this particular situation to everyone’s attention.

Following up on a tip (everyone was working their sources like crazy) a low-level dealer was caught with; a box of pills; Fentanyl and Rohypnol. Now, if the dosages of the Fentanyl were the same as the Park bust, then things would get very interesting, especially if that busted dealer would talk.


Aquina had avoided seeing Claire (her trip explained some of her absence) for she had not wanted her to see her bruised condition. Aquina had been coming up with excuses, but tonight she decided it was time to bring her blonde lover farther into her world, and that included knowing Aquina’s…‘interests’. 

“Aquina!” Claire exclaimed, answering the call, her voice as always youthful-sounding and excited.

“Claire, I’ve missed your voice.”

And the two chatted amicably for several minutes, with it decided that Sunday they would get together and Aquina would bring her to the house. They said goodbyes with much fondness, although Claire hid her disappointment at not seeing Aquina tonight.


The party nights had been a hit from the first, and Saturday was no exception. People enjoyed themselves, no one lost a lot of dough, Kate and Anna had found roles as ‘hostesses’; the group of Heather, Mindi, Bobbi and now Mary were groped and fondled but no one got overly aggressive.

And no one missed Jake, or Dzyuba for that matter, although Brandon did make the point that he still had his uses and should likely be included next time. Aquina agreed, reluctantly.

The evening was ending, but Eric and Kevin were now debating the merits of buying a pool table; they had the space set aside after all, and that is where Aquina left them, to argue the pros and cons. Aquina then joined Adam and Anna as they made their way to ‘their’ room. She had something for Anna; Adam was a little concerned with it at first, but then saw the merit.

It was Aquina’s .22 caliber pistol, her ‘Deuce Deuce’ as she called it, and she wanted Anna to have it. She still didn’t trust Jake and believed protection was valuable. She spent a few minutes going over firing etcetera, but Jake had made Anna handle his service handgun so often she took to the little gun very well.

Aquina went to bed thinking of tomorrow’s visit with Claire. She regarded her bruised pubic area; she had allowed her dark, curly pubic hair to begin to grow back; but the bruises were still alarming. Oh well, she would give Claire the whole deal; she had had enough with secrets. As her fingers traced the tattoo word ‘slave’, she shook her head, memories rising like ghosts to haunt her.


Jake looked down at the terrified woman on the floor before him; a hooker he had picked up earlier that night. He had driven around for over an hour until he saw one that fit his needs; she looked a lot like Anna; short; dark.

Jake had been careful to pick her up in an isolated area; one with no cameras and not a lot of activity.

After having her clean his boots thoroughly for half an hour with her tongue, he now had her with her legs spread on the ground before him. His loaded Glock was pushed into her vagina, and he was making her beg for her life.

Jake sipped his beer, finished it and added it to the four empties on the table, as he opened another. He was pretty sure he was going to kill this woman, he just needed to decide on how. But for now, he needed to piss.

“Open your mouth, fucking whore,” he barked.

“P-pl-please, sir. Please. Don’t do this. I…”

Jake’s huge paw of a hand hit the woman and sent her sprawling. “I told you to fucking shut up; just how fucking stupid are you? Now open your Goddamn mouth and get on your knees.”

The woman opened her mouth and closed her eyes, as Jake unzipped his fly.


Claire and Aquina stood side by side in the living area of the house, surveying the ‘boy toys’. “Is that a…stripper’s stage?” Claire asked, with a nod and wonder in her voice. Stripping was actually one of her fantasies, but something else she had shared with no one. For a moment, pushing down her excitement, she remembered again that afternoon long ago with Cindy and Melissa. She imagined herself on the stage and smiled.

“Yep, it’s a big male fantasy, babe; and we have one party girl who has stripped professionally and is very good.”

Claire gave a thumbs-up. “Wow, this really is a man-cave. Although even I could go for those flat screens; they’d be great for movies.” Or watching porn; Claire pondered with a smile to herself, considering the whole new world of sexuality she hadn’t thought about before.

Why hadn’t she shared this, interest, with Aquina yet, she wondered? She really had no excuse now.

Aquina laughed, “I wouldn’t know about movies, all we’ve ever watched on these suckers is sports.”

They then sat in the kitchen nook area and had coffee as various residents arose, entered and were introduced. Brandon looked with great interest at Claire, and then back at Aquina, understanding showing in his face.

In time, the ‘traffic’ slowed and Aquina took Claire up to her den/bedroom. As Claire embraced her and began responding to the kisses, Aquina gently directed her to a chair, saying “I need to talk to you a little. There are some things I want to tell you, things I want you to know.”

Then, in a quiet and steady stream, Aquina related her relationship with Harriet Smith and the beginning of her need for submissiveness; and how she had played both roles effectively over the years, dominant and sub, depending on the situation; but that from time to time her desire had led her into mistress/slave pairings with her as the slave; it was a need. She then told Claire about Shareen Macgregor, ending with what had happened recently.

Claire’s face held emotions from wonder to concern to alarm to interest, sometimes great interest, as she listened.

“But now,” Aquina said, kneeling in front of Claire and holding her face in both hands, “Now, I want to work on being with you.”

They embraced for several minutes. With her face against the other’s, Claire asked quietly. “Is this why you never wanted to do anything else with like, me; I mean, after that first afternoon with Bobbi? Because you are a, um, what, a slave?”

Why the thought of dominating Claire bothered her, or why she resisted it, Aquina didn’t know. It was like two sides of a coin, only she was the coin.


Jake pressed the duct tape down over the woman’s mouth. He had brought her down to the basement, into the room he had used with Anna quite often. He had a mattress on the floor with hooks he had put in the corners, allowing him to tie Anna in a spread-eagle fashion, which was how he had tied the woman now. He regarded her slim body, tattooed and pierced in several places.

He gripped a small labia ring and pulled it, causing the woman to wince and move her hips, with Jake responding by slapping her face. She had two silver nipple rings as well. Jake tugged on these and the woman closed her eyes and lay still.

“You dumb bitches play right into our hands; rings through your tits; great. Love it. Look what I can do to you.” And Jake tugged the rings up, pulling the woman’s nipples and stretching them, causing much discomfort; the woman’s eyes popped open. Jake looked at them; they held fear…maybe even terror.

Good, Jake thought, she should be terrified.


An hour after Claire had left, ‘to think things over’, the doorbell chimed, and Aquina thought it was Claire returning, but was amazed to see Shareen Macgregor standing on the landing. Her initial response was surprise, and then, strangely, no dislike or awkwardness, as she forced down her desire to kneel.

She invited Macgregor in without any drama and they went up to her room as the living room was now crowded with ‘the boys and girls’. Macgregor sat again in the same chair she had sat in the day Aquina had promised her an hour of ‘service’. What has happened since then, Aquina pondered briefly, then forced herself to focus on the present.

“I see you are…moving around much better,” Macgregor remarked, conversationally.

Aquina, now feeling an odd mix of emotions, as that voice caressed her, smiled and replied cordially, “Yes, it’s much improved. Um, thank you for the pills, by the way. They really helped.”

Now an awkward pause finally emerged, the two women just sitting. Macgregor was fussing with her hands, a nervous habit, so Aquina spoke. “I am…surprised you have come to see me.”

Macgregor looked at her now with that same sad look she had before, the last time they spoke.

“I…um, I thought about coming to see you the next day, and the day after that; then I remembered you mentioning you were going away for a quick trip, and now…I needed to see you Aquina. I understand if you just tell me to…well, fuck off. I hope you won’t. I don’t think you will.” She paused now, perhaps watching for a reaction.

Aquina located her cigarillos and lit one; her own nervous habit. Macgregor smiled and mouthed ‘Tut tut’ as Aquina inhaled. The tension seemed to break.

“I don’t hate you, mmm, um, Shareen. I’m not even angry at you. That has all gone. I don’t know what there is, now, or what you want from me. Or what I want. I need…time, I guess,” she sighed, her gaze to the floor.

Macgregor studied the other, contemplating. “I felt guilt, you need to know that. I even had Mrs. B punish me, not for what was done to you but that I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. I should have intervened, at some point. I didn’t, and I was angry and disappointed in myself. I have left Jarvais’s group.”

They sat in silence for a long while. “And now you need to assess.” Aquina looked up, then down again. “You are a pathetic slave; I know you realize that.” Macgregor stood and regarded Aquina, who looked away again; that would likely never change; this woman was superior to her; that was her reality. “We are bound together, slave, but you need to decide, no one can do that for you. What happened to you was nasty, I admit that, but that really doesn’t change anything…important.”

Macgregor headed toward the door, stopping and bending down to kiss her slave. Aquina, her mind in turmoil, opened her mouth to accept the probing tongue, and then sat breathing heavily as Macgregor softly kissed her face and throat, then looked into her face.

Fingers trembling, Aquina slipped her blouse and bra off and lifted both breasts for Macgregor to kiss and suck, moaning softly. She then slid slowly down, and from her knees undid Macgregor’s slacks, and pulled them and the thong down as well, kissing the soft thighs before tenderly kissing the familiar, tight, pinkish labia, and moaning more, loving the woman’s scent, with Macgregor’s hands in her hair.

When Macgregor left fifteen minutes later, Aquina marvelled at the feeling of peace now within her, as she thought of both Macgregor and Claire. Was she a fool?

Or was she, she considered, actually a blessed woman?

In a moment her cell chimed a message. “Slave,” it read, “you belong to me and that is simply the way it is; but take your time. I am sorry for what happened to you. I am. But you are what you are. And you know how to find me.”

Aquina read the message and closed her eyes; life was never easy, she considered, as she sat, still naked.


It was nearly nine, but there was still light out, and Jake was able to make out the area he had selected quite well. It was off a minor road, and was not near any habitation of any kind; there was a grove of trees and some bush; it was very doubtful anyone would be nosing around here. He carried the body of the woman wrapped in a rug. There was no blood, so he would take the carpet back, he decided, as he tossed the body into the underbrush.

Just like garbage, he thought, trudging back to his Jeep.


It was now almost nine-thirty when Aquina’s phone lit up; a message from Claire. Aquina lifted the device up with both anticipation and trepidation.

“I’m outside. Didn’t want to ring your bell,” was the simple message, and Aquina slipped on her slacks and blouse and hurried down to open the door. Claire was standing, looking uncertain.

“Come in, come in, you.” When Claire entered, Aquina hustled here up to her room, tossing her light jacket on the bed and gripping her in a warm embrace. Then she covered Claire’s mouth completely, absolutely, with her own, sucking her lips and tongue into her mouth as if she wanted to devour them. In a few minutes she had her face buried between Claire’s thighs as the woman moaned softly.

For her part, Claire was remembering some of the things that Aquina had shared with her; the things she had done in submission. “Do you have any video of you being used as a slave?” She quietly asked later as they lay together.

Aquina raised her head and looked at her companion. “Why, sweets?”

Claire smiled, looking young. “I’d like to watch, A,” she said, simply and truthfully.  


Tuesday night, and Jake was reviewing his plans. In the front door and take out whomever he met first. It was important that he get Anna and Aquina alive; he wanted that traitor Brandon and that faggy, little, cunt lawyer to watch, so he would need to take out or control the others. He could wait until the weekend, and really have a turkey shoot, but that could be too many bodies to handle.

It wasn’t enough to kill these bitches, he needed to make a statement and he wanted an audience. He had enjoyed killing the hooker on Sunday, deciding in the end to strangle her, which allowed him the chance to actually watch her die. To see the life leave her eyes. He masturbated on her face afterwards, only to regret that because of possible DNA. He had poured some bleach on her then, which was not a bad idea anyway, he had reasoned.

Somewhere in his mind, Jake realized that his own death would likely be part of the equation, unless he eliminated every witness; but there was a good chance evidence would lead back to him. He was okay with dying, but he needed it to be right.

He could go over there right now; that thought actually got his heart racing, but he wasn’t ready. The woman on Sunday had whet his appetite; he had gloried in the control, the incredible thought of deciding on life or death. He wanted more of that, but not another hooker; that didn’t excite him anymore.

He did know what he wanted, however, even before he nabbed that woman off the street. Several days before he had seen a couple in the Walgren’s; he was a stupid little dink of a man but the woman was quite nice looking. They were holding hands as they shopped, and stopping every now and then for a kiss. Fuck!

Jake, thinking he might puke at the disgusting behavior, had followed them, got their licence number, ran it and got their address. He had actually driven there on Sunday but decided to try for an easier target, like a street walker, first. He took out his wallet and found the slip of paper with the address. Then he went and got his guns; he now took his shotgun with him everywhere. He went out to his Jeep.

He was ready.


Mrs. B. took the phone that Maria had answered. She still preferred land line phones over cells for ‘polite conversation’. However, after answering, her tone changed. She waited until Maria was down the hall, “Why are you calling me at this number?” she asked, her voice containing an unpleasant edge.

“Sorry,” the male voice on the other end replied, “just thought you’d want this info.”

“Yes, yes, go on, you have my attention now.”

“Yeah, well I think drugs from your shipment are turning up here in New York, but not with our regular dealers. Others. I gotta believe this extra is from our hi-jacked shipment. I’m following up some tips; we might still find those bastards.”

Belvedere smiled. She didn’t care so much about the lost money; she could handle that; she cared about the principle of the thing. You have to maintain control; that was the thing, always.

“Keep me informed, but send me another burner and use that. Are we clear?”

“We’re clear, Mrs. Carruthers.”  


The man was on his knees, fighting for his breath. The woman was on her knees too, crying and pleading. “Please, don’t hurt him, please stop. Wh-what do you want?”

“I want you to follow orders,” Jake said in a calm voice. He felt immense, towering over these two. It had been so easy coming in, taking over. He was in complete control. “Who’s that?” Jake asked, pointing to a picture on a table, showing the man and the woman and a girl.

“Th-that’s our, our d-daughter. She, she’s at college. P-please, tell us what you want.”

Jake picked the woman up by the hair and her husband made a desperate attempt to grab Jake’s leg. Only to receive a vicious kick in the ribs that left him rolling in agony.

“Are you going to do what you’re told?” Jake asked the woman.

“Ye-yes. Yes, please, stop.”

“Okay, but every time you are slow or make me wait, he gets hurt, and then you get hurt. Okay?”

The woman nodded her head and Jake instructed her to take off her husband’s clothes. She hesitated for a moment and Jake moved to deliver another kick and she sprang to action, stripping her husband, helping him into a chair and tying his hands as Jake watched.

Jake had had her find some rope and she had found some that was quite thin. He watched now as the woman tied off her husband’s testicles; to Jake’s specification, and then completely taped over his mouth.

She then began to suck her husband’s cock as Jake watched. When the husband finally sported an erection of sorts, his eyes filled with pain, hatred and tears, Jake had the woman undress and crawl back to him. He whispered in her ear, explaining what he would do if she did not follow his directions exactly.

With shaking hands and tears streaking down her face, the woman unzipped Jake’s pants and pulled out his cock and began sucking it, directly in front of her bound husband, who closed his eyes. Jake stood and leaned forward, then slapped the husband across the face, before putting his hands around the woman’s throat.

“You close your eyes again asshole and she pays. Got it.”

The man nodded his head, his face purple with rage, the veins standing out on his neck. Jake had the woman continue sucking him; he had gotten hard and felt confident. He turned the woman around and began vigorously fucking her dog-style, occasionally pulling her head back and slapping her ass. Then he paused, turning the woman so she looked at her husband.

“That’s quite the boner your hubby has there,” Jake noted with a laugh; the husband’s erection was now standing straight up. “I think he likes seeing you being fucked.” Jake leaned down and whispered to the woman, then began fucking her again.

“Oh, oh God. Fuck me, M-master. Fuck me like a hw-whore,” the woman whimpered, half-heartedly. Jake pounded her some more, then pulled out. He didn’t want this to end just now. He lifted the woman and made her lead him to the bedroom.

“Okay, tell me where you keep your sex toys,” Jake demanded.

“I–I don’t have…um, such things,” the woman stammered looking anywhere but at the hulking menace in front of her. Jake saw something in her face and persisted.

“Okay, I’ll look then, Sweetie, but if I find anything I am going to put a bullet in hubby, deal?”

The woman looked up, horror on her face. “Please, wait…”

“Okay then. Show me now, stupid bitch.”

The woman led him to a chest of drawers and directed him to one, which he opened. “At the bottom, under the s-sweaters,” she stammered, and Jake retrieved a smallish pink and a slightly larger flesh-colored dildo.

“Stupid hubby doesn’t know about these, does he?” Jake asked, a leer on his round face.

The woman just looked down, shaking and moving her head side to side.

“Perfect,” Jake declared, a large grin now on that face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good; maybe high school with the two girls.


Meredith Delmare looked at the text from home; now twenty-one, her parents didn’t usually contact her when she was out with friends. She checked the time; just after eleven; hmmm, odd. She had planned to stay at one of her friend’s, but if there was a problem at home she should get back there. She considered; she’d had two glasses of wine, but it had been over three hours and she had eaten something; so, she should be ‘okay’ to drive.

“Hey, sorry; gotta go,” she said, waving.

“What’s up now?” Jessie asked, looking at the slim, dark-haired girl, who was so unpredictable.

“Not sure, got a text from the parentos, so…anyway, call you later, for real.”

When Meredith got in her car she called home, but no answer. Now she was a little concerned. She pulled out of the parking lot and headed south.

Back at her house, Jake smiled when the wife’s phone chimed and the caller was ‘Meredith’, followed a couple of minutes later with a text saying she was on her way.

Jake looked down at the couple; the husband on his knees and the wife shoving the pink dildo in and out of the man’s ass; Jake had already forced the flesh-colored dildo up the woman’s ass. He had then gone through her cell phone and found the correspondence with Meredith and put two and two together, aware now she was the daughter. He had then sent her a text.

“Good,” Jake barked, “Put the thing in as far as you can and then get the cunt back on the chair.”

The woman did as directed and the husband was now back sitting up, although with some difficulty, as his ribs were still very sore. The woman’s eyes were red from crying and her eye shadow was a mess, as was her hair.

Jake had found some beer in the fridge and was now on his second, as he paused to tie the woman to the couch.

He fastened her ankles, with some of the rope she had found, to the feet at either end of the couch, so her legs were wide open. Jake stuffed the woman’s panties in her mouth and covered it with tape. He next took several photos with his cell, and then sat back with his beer to wait.


Brad Smithfield closed up the file and placed it on the desk in his home office. He got up to make some coffee and think over what he had found. He had located and interviewed the dealer who had been arrested with the ‘box of pills’; there was no doubt they were companions to the ones in the ‘Park’ bust, and the dealer related how ‘two big guys’ had sold him the box.

“Do you think they were cops?” Smithfield had asked, but the man looked at his shoes, fidgeted and said nothing. Smithfield had taken that as a ‘yes’.

Smithfield now looked at the files, including photos, for Park and his friends; certainly Jake Tucker and Brandon Park qualified as ‘two big guys’. Goddamn, he thought, temptation is a bitch and youth thinks they know all.

For some reason a snippet from a long-forgotten song flitted though Smithfield’s memory…‘for I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now’.

Too bad, thought Smithfield, too bloody bad.

(End of Chapter 23)