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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 5 Do Your Thing

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 05 Do Your Thing

I need you woman, it ain’t no big deal, you need love now, just as bad as I do. Makes me no difference, who you give your thing to…”

Sunday was a quiet day around ‘the house’; no one was really hung over, because the girls were instructed to never drink much, and there was a general ‘laid back’ feel. Dolly and Connie had gone to a Sunday service, Gerry was visiting her family, she being the only local on the crew. Margie and Christine had showered together (not all that unusual, the girls frequently shared a shower; it was practical, not sexual).

Lana was not seen; she was the one from the group who seemed to be something of a loner, even if she was in charge of the house. Maude, the cook, would be coming to the house around four PM to prepare a Sunday dinner that all were looking forward to; pot roast, pan-fried potatoes, tossed salad, fresh-baked bread and brown beans in Maude’s special sauce. It would be Christine’s first Sunday dinner and she was looking forward to it.

She sat now, on the front steps, going over in her mind the events of the night before, feeling again intense arousal as she thought of the men using her, their fingers inside her. She savoured the vision of them jerking their brown cocks (she said the word in her mind, cocks; I saw two brown, hard cocks) she repeated, quickly squeezing her labia through her shorts. Crazy.

She went inside, fighting the strong desire to go to the washroom and ‘diddle her quim’ as Margie had said, when she suddenly stopped and stood still. There was music coming from somewhere close by; not a transistor radio or a record player, this was an instrument playing solo. What was it, she racked her brain? An oboe? No, that wasn’t it. A violin? Sort of; wait, a cello; that was it; someone was playing a cello and it was close by, indeed.

* * * *

Anne was in the Clarence Hotel, in her favorite booth, speaking with her contact. The conversation again was in muted tones and Russian, but an English speaker could have picked out ‘Laverne May’, the name of the wife of a high level military aide to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Anne had received some information on the woman and now was asking some specifics. Her contact said he would leave something tomorrow; bench number eight.

* * * *

“So the dinner went well, my dear?” Virginia asked as she and Douglas sat together after a late breakfast.

“It was very pleasant and I think we are making some, mmm, progress.” Douglas smiled.

Just then the phone rang and Virginia, answering the extension in the kitchen, informed her husband it was for him. After speaking for a moment, Douglas murmured it was a call he needed to take privately, and headed for his office/den. Virginia hung up the receiver the moment she heard her husband’s voice. She would never listen in.

* * * * 

Christine was tracking the sound; it seemed to be coming from above her, but when she got to the second floor, it was still above her. Looking to the end of the hallway, she noticed for the first time that there was a door there, which she now walked to and opened, finding fire-escape stairs leading down and up, to the flat roof. The cello was louder now and clear; someone was on the roof playing.

Carefully and quietly, Christine mounted the metal stairs until her head cleared the roof’s edge and she could see, in the middle of the roof, sitting on a folding chair, a woman playing the cello. It was Lana Gallo, and the song she was playing was haunting. Without thinking, Christine began moving slowly and quietly toward the woman, who was facing at an angle away from her.

Stopping about twenty feet from the chair, Christine crouched and listened. But then Lana abruptly stopped and looked over, smiling, “I have a visitor,” she said, quietly.

“Oh don’t stop, please, Lana. I’m sorry for interrupting; it was so beautiful I had to come and see.” Christine moved closer.

Lana smiled and resumed the tune, finishing it and then playing for another fifteen minutes as Christine knelt, listening in amazement; Lana was fabulous, even to someone who knew as little about classical music as Christine.

After Lana finished her practice, she packed her cello back into its large case, and the two women headed back to the stairs. “I play when I can up here, but I don’t want to disturb anyone.”

“I can’t believe anything that beautiful could disturb anyone,” Christine enthused, and when Lana chuckled, she asked, “What was that first song? I loved it and know nothing about such things.”

Lana stopped and smiled at her, “Such wonderful comments, thank you. It was Bach’s Cello Concerto, in G, for those taking notes,” she murmured, smiling, her hazel eyes lighting up.

She’s so beautiful, Christine marvelled again.

* * * *

Beverly moved quietly behind her mother, leaning against her and gently stroking her arms as Virginia tensed, whispering, “Your father’s just in the other room.”

“I know Mommsy; he’s in his den with his door closed; he won’t hear, this,” she said, softly kissing the side of Virginia’s face, and then the neck and then the other side, before turning Virginia around and kissing her mouth while pressing her pelvis against her mother’s.

Virginia did not resist; what was the point? Oddly though, she did respond, kissing tenderly and reaching her hands around to clasp Beverly. The two women licked each other’s tongues, sucking then in turn. Beverly moved her hand down to squeeze between Virginia’s thighs, whispering, “Are you wet, Mother?”

Virginia gently kissed Beverly’s face several times before kissing her with an open mouth, taking in the tongue again and sucking it aggressively, before nestling her face in the crook of her daughter’s neck.

“I am, dear,” she murmured, leaning and kissing each of Beverly’s breasts. She hadn’t considered this turn of events; hadn’t planned on this happening; but apparently it was.

* * * *

At noon Connie bellowed out from the main floor, “Christine, call for you.”

Christine, who hadn’t even thought about a telephone in the house, hurried downstairs befuddled as to who would be calling. She found Connie and the phone near the end of the hall, by the small washroom.

“H-hello?” Christine asked, trying to sound calm, but fearing news of a tragedy at home.

“Ahhh, is that our young whore?” The accented voice on the other end asked, and Christine gasped with surprise and recognition. “Mmmmm, I see you remember. Very good. Well, I have, something, of yours, hmmm, and I will bring it by today. I will be there at two, outside your house. Now, listen carefully…” Christine listened, not sure she could speak anyway, the surge of excitement she was feeling was almost overwhelming.

“You will wear a blouse and slacks and nothing underneath, do you understand?” As Christine fought to find her breath and voice, the authoritative voice of Hie Dhang commanded, “Whore, are you there?”

“Y-yes, yes, I’m here.”

“I’m here, Mistress Dhang…”

“Ahhh, ummm, I’m here, M-mistress Dhang.” Saying those words produced a clear and intense stab of desire within her, and the memory of last evening’s climax returned in a rush to Christine.

“Good, that is how you will address me, understood. Two o’clock.”

The line went dead and Christine stood, frozen, her mind twisting and turning with thoughts and emotions. Looking around and seeing no one watching, she darted into the washroom and locked the door. She paused for a moment in consideration, then decided; undoing her slacks she pulled them down and then her sensible (Sunday) cotton panties, and placed her hand between her thighs and rubbed. As always, it felt incredible (filthy hole!) at first; unbelievable, and she just rubbed (the base of all sin!) and squeezed.

In spite of how good it felt, however, after a few moments the passion began to fade, as always, and Christine paused, gently stroking her now puffy outer labia. She looked in the mirror, stared into the eyes that were there, and shook her head. What was happening? Now that she knew what the feeling could be, why couldn’t she find it herself?

Doing up and then straightening her clothes and patting her hair, Christine took a deep breath and let it out slowly, three times, then turned and left the room, walking casually out and up the staircase.

It was twelve-o-five; almost two hours to wait.

* * * *

The call Silverberg had received was from Cliff Eagleton again, checking in on how things had gone Saturday night. “It is really, and I can’t stress this enough, Douglas, really important that Korea agrees to a purchase of the farm implements we’ve discussed; so push as hard as you can to make it happen. Keep those Koreans happy, Sir, and all of us, right up to the president for Christ’s sake, will be happy too.”

Douglas Silverberg didn’t know everything; he never did, but he certainly knew the importance of this agreement. Eagleton had never called him at home.

* * * *

May, Glen Rock, PA

Christine Callister lay crossways on the bed, her shorts pulled down below her knees. Her buttocks were reddened and her mother was standing and breathing hard after administering a spanking with her hand. “Now, you know it hurts me more than you, child, but sin leads to damnation,” she spoke fiercely.

“But I’ve done nothing, mother…” Christine protested quietly and in vain.

Miss Devers, church elder, despite only being in her early thirties, had witnessed the punishment from a chair in the corner of the room. “Pay no heed, Eleanor, it is what they all say. The child is full of sin, simply look at her body. No, you cannot spare the rod; you have done well. Now…” Here the tall woman stood and placed a long arm around Eleanor Callister’s shoulders, “best go make us some tea. It’s been stressful.”

“Oh thank you, Elizabeth. I am so grateful for your guidance, fellowship and friendship. I’ll put the kettle on…”

As Mrs. Callister left the room, Devers gazed down at the round, reddened bottom before her. She pulled Christine’s hands straight forward on the bed, “Keep them like that, child…” she whispered in a threatening way. Most people in town found Devers that way, threatening; and intimidating, and would stay clear of her. Certainly Christine did, when out on the streets.

Devers looked down again, then ran her eyes over the lovely, red flesh, imagining her hand squeezing it, and remembering the sounds as Eleanor had bent to her task. Devers would advise the woman to bring her sinful girl back next Sunday as well; she didn’t believe her to be corrected just yet; it would be a process.

Possibly a lengthy one.

* * * *

“Right, Sir.” Julia Sullivan replied to her boss, thinking how odd it was for him to call her, at home, on a Sunday. But she understood the message, both the Romanian and Korean negotiations had high importance; exactly why, that she wasn’t told.

“You do know the new girl, Callister, is lunching with Flori Hănescu on Tuesday?”

There was a pause, then a chuckle. “Well, from the frying pan into the fire,” Silverberg commented. “You’ll be meeting with her later to get details.”

“Absolutely, Sir.”

Silverberg chuckled again; the rumors were true; that Hănescu never did let the grass grow.

* * * *

At five minutes to two, Christine was seated on the steps of the house, dressed as directed and her heart, as they say, in her mouth. She had tried reasoning with herself, but to no avail.

Over the years, she had felt arousal, excitement, desire; whatever one would call it, starting with the sessions where the hostile but attractive and commanding Miss Devers had been present. That was indeed the beginning; a beginning.

Christine never considered why she had felt arousal at having her punishment, her humiliation, witnessed by that particular woman. She had just accepted it, filed it away and then pushed it deeply down into her subconscious.

The fact she had felt so little (if any, really) arousal when actually ‘love-making’ with boyfriend Brian hadn’t concerned her, as she hadn’t thought much on that either. It was emotions. She had never noted any sounds of passion coming from her parents’ room while her father was alive, so what she felt, or didn’t feel with Brian, was not odd; to her.

When it came to tasks and activities, such as anything to do with school, Christine had always been relentlessly, almost obsessively, organized and focused; and successful. But when it came to anything emotional, she had always just let it flow over her; she was the pebble in the proverbial stream.

What she was feeling right now, sitting here, was bewildering, but it was just happening on its own, like last night; and she would just let it happen.

No, she actually wanted it to happen. She wanted this woman to touch her again, why lie to herself?

She looked up with a start, and an incredible surge of excitement, upon seeing a large, dark car moving up the street toward her. She was already standing and waiting on the curb when it came to a stop.

The driver came around and opened the door and Christine looked down into the compelling eyes of Hie Dhang, who said simply, “Get in.”

Christine slid in onto the warm, brown leather, as the driver closed the door; in a moment they were moving down the road. The glass partition separating the front and rear seats had a curtain drawn over it and the windows of the car were darkly tinted; they were hidden from both inside and outside eyes.

Dhang gently stroked Christine’s face, moving her fingers down and touching the woman’s lips, before leaning forward and gently kissing them. Christine moved her hand up to caress Dhang’s bare arm. Dhang moved back and appraised her companion, then held up the lace undies she had kept, saying simply, “Undress.”

Christine, amazingly, did not hesitate; she wanted to be naked for this woman; she did not ponder why. In a moment her blouse and slacks were sitting on her shoes and she was looking down at the carpeted floor. “Look at me, and say, I am ready, Mistress Dhang.”

Christine dutifully repeated the phrase, looking into Dhang’s dark, attractive eyes, fighting to control her breathing. “Play with your, tits.” Dhang watched, a smile on her face, as Christine fondled, pulled and squeezed her breasts, her eyes locked on the other’s.

“Lean back and open your legs.”

Christine did this, a soft moan escaping her lips, and then Dhang moved her hand to gently touch Christine’s labia. “Uuuuunnnn!” Christine cried out, the touch feeling to her like a hot iron.

“Hmmmmm,” Dhang murmured, moving close, “my white whore likes being touched?”

Christine closed her eyes and pulled her nipples.  “Ohhhh, ummmm, yes Mistress Dhang.”

Dhang had now inserted two fingers into Christine’s vagina and began a steady in and out rhythm. “Hands behind your head.” Christine complied and Dhang now began to slap and aggressively pull the rigid nipples standing out on the round, full breasts.

“You liked those men using you last night, didn’t you, whore?” Dhang crooned.

“Unnnn, mmmmm, ohhhh, yes, um, yes I liked it. I d-did.”

Dhang concentrated now, slowly forcing her entire slim hand into Christine’s admittedly tight but incredibly wet hole. Christine was now crying out with no reservation, grinding herself on Dhang’s hand. She could feel the rising tide of passion; it was coming, unbelievably, the pleasure/pain was again coming. She was going to orgasm, it was close, so close.

Nothing mattered now; not her job, not her mother, not the driver in the front seat; not God, nothing. Christine didn’t care about anything but climaxing; her world had collapsed to this small space and this great need.

Dhang expertly covered Christine’s mouth as the young woman bucked her hips ferociously, her muffled cries still audible; seconds passed.

Then calm descended, as Dhang gently kissed away the tears of arousal; as she and Christine began sucking each other’s lips.

Dhang slowly withdrew her hand, using the panties to wipe it off, before allowing Christine to complete the task with her tongue. She then had the young woman put the panties back on, then her slacks, and then her blouse.

Dhang opened the partition a crack and said something in Korean to the driver, then closed the window and looked at Christine, “What do you want?” she murmured, gently caressing Christine’s face.

Christine struggled to make her voice work; she had never been here, to this point in a relationship, sexual or otherwise. Years ago, before Brian perhaps, she had been close but not here. This was new; exciting, imposing, intimidating. Unbelievable.

She could not comprehend it, but it didn’t matter; she knew what she wanted. If she had considered, she had really always known, at least since she had been old enough to want something so intimate.

“Mmmm, to be with you,” she said, in a choked whisper.

* * * *

Cliff Eagleton had chosen the spot with consideration; it was how he always did things. He was well aware that in Washington eyes were everywhere, but this particular bar was gold. The spot he had parked his large frame into was in a corner booth protected by a permanent hat rack. It was almost as if someone had designed it so that anyone in the booth would be shielded. He had also ordered two bourbons so the waitress would not need to return.

With a silent movement, like a shadow, his companion slipped into the spot across from him, wearing the hat he always wore. Eagleton knew him as ‘Jack’, part of a group nicknamed with playing cards; over the last four years he had met Nine, Queen (who was a man) and King (who was female). Somebody had a sense of humor.

“Nice night for a fight,” Jack murmured.

“Depends what mother thinks,” Eagleton replied, correctly.

Both men grinned; they had carried on this spy-game as much for their own amusement as for security, then sipped their drinks before ‘Jack’ began. “I can’t believe the heat on this.”

Eagleton paused, “Why is this different from other ops? You’ve been in some tight spots before. Cuba? Guatemala?”

Jack sipped again, “It’s the political heat this time. The admin is losing its goddamn mind over these protests and the goddamn liberal media bullshit. Nixon is going fuckin’ bananas.” He sipped again.

“So, what’s new…?” Eagleton smiled and both men chuckled.

“What’s new is that if the Phoenix operation gets exposed the backlash could be brutal. Hell, there are protests, getting louder, and Nixon is talking about withdrawing troops for Christ’s sake. If the public finds out we’re running goddamn death squads among the goddamn civilians over there, Christ…” Jack let the severity of that sit on its own.

“And Korea…?”

“The brass are shitting bricks over who’s talkin’ to who. We don’t know any more just who our friends are. Connect the dots; Korea, North Vietnam, South Nam. That’s the way they want it to go, but they need thirty or forty operatives over there handling ten or more agents each. Korea has to be onside or we’re fucked. I mean royally fucked.”

“Too old to be looking for a new career, Jack?” Eagleton murmured.

The man snorted, “It’s tough looking for a new job when you’re buried in some swamp, Eagle.”

Both men sat in silence.

* * * *

Anne had received a message and responded by going directly to her favorite phone booth. Tonight however it wasn’t her regular guy on the other end, but someone who spoke English. 

“Yeah, I know about the Korean delegates, why?” She replied to his first question.

“What do you know of Hie Dhang?”

Anne considered. “Well, she’s high level; likes to pose as an interpreter, but only answers to one or two above her. Why?”

“We don’t like how the negotiations are progressing between the Koreans and the Yanks. Dhang is a key. See what you can dig up.”

“Um, Southeast Asia isn’t my, thing, Sir, if I may say so. Why me?”

“Aren’t you a gal who likes to do her own thing…Anna?”

He knew her real name, with its slight but key alteration; a name that had been buried long ago. “Yes, I like to do my, thing, ‘cuz I usually know why.”

“Just poke around; this doesn’t replace anything, keep up with the target we’ve discussed. Oh, and how are things with the director’s wife?”

“I turned in a report,” Anne murmured.

“We know. I just like to hear it from the, source.”

“Well, the source says it’s just been a diversion; I don’t think there’s anything really worthwhile. Now, the aide’s wife, that’s a whole new thing.”


Anne sat for a minute in the booth, thinking, then she moved on. One never wanted to think too much.

* * * *

Christine lay on her bed, alone tonight as Margie had just started her period and preferred to sleep by herself.

As she lay, her mind was again running full speed, except for those contemplative moments. She realized now that her family, outwardly quiet and respectable, did not prepare her for being an adult, at least not one that understood his or her sexuality. And worse; had fed her a lot of, horseshit, Margie would say.

She would no longer accept that evil, or the devil, lived within her, and that her vagina was some gateway to sin.

But that did not explain why she wanted what she wanted now. For many years, people would say, “You’re so attractive,” as if that summed up everything. But it didn’t explain what she had felt last night, as the two men assaulted her openings. It didn’t explain the desire that rose within her, a desire that exploded a short while later with a woman’s tongue inside her. A woman

Nothing in her world could explain how she now wanted to crawl on her knees for Mistress Dhang; to be naked for her and to have her touch her and kiss her, and tell her she mattered. She wanted Hie Dhang to say. “Oh my God, Christine, I want you more than anything.” That was what she wanted to say to the woman, but she also wanted to be back in that room with those men, lifting her dress and pulling down her panties; exposing her sex, as Dhang watched.

She wished they had ‘gone all the way’, both of them, one after the other, as the woman observed, smiling. She wanted the two cocks she had seen to be between her legs and in her mouth. Explain that, who or whatever…

Her hand drifted down to her labia, gently stroking them. On Tuesday Mrs. (was it Mrs.?) Hănescu would have her to lunch. She was a forceful woman; Christine now imagined herself, stripping before the woman. As she thought of this, she slipped a finger into her sex.

“The white bitch is wet”, the men had said.

Christine smiled at that thought, slowly moving her finger, remembering Mistress Dhang’s hand entering her, spreading her, controlling her.

She was a white bitch, and she was wet. Do your thing, she thought, the lyrics of a popular song coming uninvited.

Maybe she was finally seeing herself, truly.

Maybe this was her thing.

(End of Chapter 05)

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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 4 Crystal Blue Persuasion

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 04 Crystal Blue Persuasion

Look over yonder, what do you see? A sun is arising, most definitely. A new day is coming –whoo-hoo- people are changing…”

‘The house’ was a hive of activity this Saturday morning, as tonight’s event included a dinner with cocktails and now six women were all trying to get ready with only one and one half bathrooms at their disposal.

“This is like a three-ring circus,” Christine commented to Margie at one point, as Geraldine (Gerry) flashed past with two dresses on hangers just as Connie came rushing up, housecoat open and breasts swaying, calling, “I’m next for the shower!”

“Yup, and like I said, most of the gals are running around like that,” Margie smiled and pointed to Connie’s impressive, swaying bosoms.

“Yeah, it’s almost dangerous,” Christine grinned.

* * * *

Anne Kasey studied her list again; she had definitely narrowed down her choices; choice one being the wife of the aide. On a small sheet of note paper, she now wrote down a name and ‘a request for anything on file’.

On the way back to her flat, she stopped again in the park, sitting this time on the seventh bench, where she cautiously placed the note she had written under it; then she carried on.

With that out of the way, she focused on her evening; tonight she would be heading to Beverly’s for some more fun and games with Mrs. S.

It was definitely weird, but she smiled thinking of the woman. Things could be weird but still nice.

* * * *

At three-thirty, Julia Sullivan showed up with a large suitcase, and proceeded to ‘the house’s’ dining area, setting up a display and then tracking down Lana who rounded up the women, all now in housecoats, many in curlers, to stand before the dining table.

“Okay, ladies, it’s been awhile since we’ve had a formal seven-course meal, so I just wanted to review the layout (on the dining table she had placed plates, stemware and flatware) so no one is embarrassed. Okay, remember we start with the utensils on the far left and move in.”

It was only ten minutes, but Christine was grateful for the lesson; she had never sat down to a formal seven-course meal. “Now,” Julia continued, “four of you will be seated with a Korean delegate and my understanding is their English is limited; three interpreters will be joining us and they will not be seated, so they can move around and help where needed. Any questions?” She paused to look around.

“Okay, good, so, everyone is going to have some soju tonight; it’s a traditional Korean drink and you’ll have a shot glass. It’s potent, so one glass each, and the glasses will be small as I say, but just warning you, okay? And we’re also serving kimchi, and you may find it um, potent as well; at least try to eat a bit. Now…”

Some general info was shared for the next several minutes and then the ladies all scurried off to finish their preparations. Douglas Silverberg’s car would be out front at four-fifty and Christine already felt the rising anticipation.

* * * *
As staff began to clear the tables, Silverberg turned to Christine, “So, you got through that,” he smiled.

Christine chuckled, “Yeah, thanks. That was a little intimidating but delicious, except for the kim-whatever…”

“Kimchi,” Silverberg grinned.

“Yeah, that was a little weird. I saw you wolfed yours down.”

Silverberg grinned, “I have one of those cast-iron stomachs; remember, I was in the armed forces, you just learn to close your eyes, hold your nose and eat.”

They both chuckled, and then Silverberg looked around. “The coffee and desserts look to be coming out as we mingle, so get out there kid and smile. I’ll circle back to you now and then. Connie looks like she’s loaded for bear tonight.”

Christine laughed and cast a glance at their ‘guard dog’, then the two got up and headed to where people had begun to gather in little groups.

* * * *

Virginia Silverberg was naked and on her knees, face buried between Anne’s thighs. They had each had two glasses of wine and Anne had gone out to the yard to smoke a joint.

Both were now feeling nice and relaxed and Virginia was really enjoying the fleshy folds of Anne’s inner and outer labia; the woman’s prominent stub of a clitoris was also a target and as Virginia sucked away, her thumb and index finger were working diligently together. She slowly introduced one finger, then a second into the well-lubricated vagina.

Anne now began to moan and move her hips and Virginia focused; she really wanted to bring this young woman pleasure, as the woman had done so pleasantly for her. When Anne’s hips lifted off the couch and a long aaaaahhhhh issued from her lips, Virginia smiled and looked up with a feeling of satisfaction. Anne opened her eyes slightly, smiled a crooked smile, and gently stroked Virginia’s hair.

Then, hearing a noise from behind, Virginia turned her head and Anne looked up to see Beverly, standing naked with a glass of wine in one hand and a smile on her face. “Don’t let me interrupt, kids. You two play. I’ll just sit over here, like a mouse or something.” She grinned and Anne laughed out loud.

“You’re not a very good mouse, babe,” Anne winked.

* * * *

It was almost eleven, and Christine’s feet were beginning to complain. She and been in her heels since four-thirty and on her feet since seven, but a greater concern right now was the current spot she was in.

She had moved around the floor well during the night, chatting briefly here and there, usually through an interpreter, with most of the South Korean delegation.

She’d managed to speak with Silverberg a couple of times and with most of her housemates, even if it was only a word or two.

But at this moment, she was trapped between Mr. Sohn, mid-height, mid-forties; and Mr. Gee, slightly smaller and a little younger, and no rescue seemed imminent as neither Connie nor Mr. Silverberg were in sight.

One of the tall cocktail tables was before her, a wall of windows was behind her, and Sohn and Gee were close on either side. The table before her was full with a food tray and several glasses, forcing Christine to hold her glass in one hand; while her other held her small purse; and the two men were using this situation to their advantage.

It had started a few minutes earlier, with Sohn, to her left, gently running a hand up her leg, to which she wiggled ‘away’ (a tiny step) and grimaced at the man, who looked straight ahead, his face composed, as if studying the horizon, beyond the opposite wall.

Then, as if on cue, Gee from the right actually grasped her ass cheek, gently squeezing it. Christine did not want to cause a scene or offend anyone and was completely befuddled; and now frozen; her only escape would be to physically push past Mr. Gee. And both men had now slid their hands under her long dress and were fondling her panty-hose-covered rear end.

A sense of panic, but also arousal, surged through Christine and she looked desperately around the room for help, but no one was looking at her, a large potted palm blocking most of the view from the right. The two men, working together, were now pulling down her under-clothing. It took only a moment before she felt warm hands on her bare skin and, absurdly, a stronger jolt of desire.

Pausing momentarily, as Sohn continued to squeeze, Gee removed his hand and lifted Christine’s dress up, tucking some of the garment into her sash and allowing the men to see what they were dealing with; Christine’s completely naked and perfect ass as she stood accepting and motionless.

In a moment, both her shoes and undergarments were also off.

Gee suddenly placed a finger in Christine’s mouth, which she sucked on without thinking, her eyes now closed and most of her mind feverishly praying that someone would come by, while a growing portion of it was wanting something that she did not completely understand; had never understood.

Breathing heavily now, Christine felt the moistened finger slowly enter her vagina from behind. Gee chuckled and said something in Korean to Sohn who laughed.

“He said the white bitch is wet.”

Christine opened her eyes to see one of the interpreters, a taller young woman, as tall as the two men, with enchanting dark, almost black, eyes and striking jet-black hair, tied back in a pony-tail, standing beside the table in front of her and smiling. “That’s you, white bitch,” the woman smiled.

“Can’t you help me?” Christine whispered, to which the girl replied. “I work for them, American whore. Just cooperate and they will be done with you in a few moments. I know you white ladies love this,” she smirked.

Both men now had fingers inserted into Christine’s vagina and they were pumping them vigorously. Christine next felt the unmistakeable pressure of a tongue on her anus, as Sohn had dropped to his knees behind her, actually spreading her cheeks, doing something no one, including steady Brian, had ever done to her, as he was now licking her anus aggressively.

All the while, the very attractive Korean woman stood, wearing an odd look, and blocking any view from the front. She was smiling, even gently stroking Christine’s face every now and then.

Christine sensed movement and then the girl actually reached out and turned Christine’s face so she could watch as the men jerked off behind her. They were greatly aroused and both came, one after the other, quickly, using Christine’s lace panties to clean up their spunk.

Both men now leaned against the young woman for a moment, as the interpreter turned her head back to the front. Then, laughing, they dressed Christine in the wet panties and her pantyhose, before kissing her on the side of her face and heading off, still chuckling.

The woman smiled and murmured, “Both men will have high praise for you. Miss, Callister. Whore.”

Christine stood staring at this woman for several moments, not moving, not calling out. Nodding, the Korean raised her eyebrows and smiled, then held out her hand, saying, “Come, white bitch.”

As if in a dream, Christine picked up her shoes and took the young woman’s hand and was led down a side hall to a washroom, where she and the Korean quickly entered, moving to the last stall and darting in.

The woman authoritatively spun Christine around so she was facing the back wall and pushed her forward so she was supporting her weight over the toilet, hands against the bricks. The woman then bent down and pulled Christine’s dress up and tucked it again into the belt, before completely pulling off the panty hose and the wet panties, which she placed with mild resistance into Christine’s mouth.

Christine felt dazed, light-headed; but mostly humiliated, because she wanted this woman to continue, to do whatever was in her mind.

She now felt a tongue on her sex and she arched her back and ass to make it easier for this aggressive woman to reach her pussy. “Your dirty hole,” her mother had called it. A surge of incredible arousal spread through Christine now as the woman’s tongue slithered in and out of her wet sex and up to her anus.

“Only filthy whores actually enjoy down there, young lady. Filthy. Whores,” her mother had hissed, slapping young Christine’s naked bottom, after finding the girl touching herself. “Sinful!”

But right now Christine didn’t care about her mother’s warnings. While she had felt arousal before, she was now feeling something she had never actually, amazingly, experienced in her life; a growing orgasm.

The Korean was clearly experienced and sucked and nibbled expertly, tongue and fingers darting into both wet holes, until Christine’s muffled cries and strong leg muscle spasms announced the black-haired woman had been successful. She removed the panties from Christine’s mouth, whispering, “I will keep these; whore.”

The next thing Christine heard was the stall door closing and then water running; and then she was alone, still breathing heavily, after experiencing the most intense pleasure of her life. She leaned against the stall, an incredible smile spread across her lovely face, with her mind struggling to process all this.

* * * *

Virginia was still naked, only now she was sitting on the couch, her hands, which had been bound by Anne, still behind her back. Anne had left, though, and Beverly, also naked, considered the time. She reached over and tweaked a nipple, eliciting another plea from her mother to not ‘do anything’.

She didn’t really want to ‘do anything’; well, not yet anyway. She had no overwhelming sexual attraction to her mother, although she had as a teen fantasized about touching her mother’s body. But, she was now enjoying this.

Beverly liked her mother okay, but did not respect her, mostly because of the choices the woman had made, to live her life in the shadows, while her husband did his thing.

She intended to punish her mother; not severely, but on her terms, as she wished; just because.  

Beverly took another photograph, this time with her mother’s legs spread wide and the wine bottle inserted as far in as it would safely go; she had now taken over a dozen snaps; a friend would develop these; they were not the kind one took to a regular photo shop.

* * * *

Christine lay on top of her covers in a light negligee; Margie was down getting ready for bed. To say her mind was full would be inaccurate; it was overflowing. The ride back home had been surreal, with Christine acting perfectly normal with her boss. Even when he leaned over and kissed her cheek gently, then smiled at her; she had acted pleasant, friendly and undisturbed.

Even after the hubbub of all the girls coming back around the same time and clamoring for the washroom, she had chatted and kidded with the crew as if nothing had happened to her.

And now she lay, with emotions literally rushing through her; guilt, desire, fear, amazement; wonder.

When Margie came in, the young woman paused and slipped off her pyjama bottoms before coming and sitting on the edge of Christine’s bed. She reached over and gently stroked her roommate’s face, “So, how’d you do, girl?” she asked with a smile.

“It was, an amazing night,” Christine murmured, not reacting to her naked roommate. Then, without any plan, she started, “Um, can I ask you something, personal, Margie, and you’ll probably laugh, ‘cuz I’m so lame.”

“Hey, ask away, Chris. You’re not lame, all right, just not educated in, um, some things; but I’ll try to help. And I won’t tease, okay?”

Christine smiled. “You know that thing that happens, sometimes when you, um, have sex; with guys the stuff comes out…”



“We call it jizz, what the guy shoots out of his pecker. It’s actually called semen, hey.”

Christine nodded, filing that away. “Okay, yeah, but, girls have something like that, without the, um, jizz-stuff, don’t they?”

Margie smiled and reached out again to gently brush away some dark strands of hair and then lightly stroke Christine’s arm, something that Christine found, lovely. “You mean the big ‘O’, the little death, the angels singing,” Margie said.

“And you cry out, and your legs go, uh, like goofy?” Christine added.

Margie laughed, “Yeah, but it’s different each time and it’s different with every woman. Why are you asking?”

“You’ve had one?”

“Sure. A couple. Mostly it’s with my best friend helping.”

“Your friend helps you?” Christine asked in amazement, trying to picture the situation.

Margie laughed out loud and held up her right hand. “This friend,” she grinned. Christine nodded as the realization hit and then she looked down. “Ah, I see,” Margie murmured, looking intently at her roommate. “You’ve got problems with…diddling?” Christine did not comment and Margie went on, “I’m guessing religious, hmmmmm? Your mom?”

Christine looked up, “Um, well, lots of bad stuff can happen with, um, sex…”

Margie nodded her head, “Some. But not from this. It

feels good, right? And most guys don’t have a clue how to make us feel right. Your mom and my mom thought lying there and doing your duty was what sex was about.”

Both women sat now in thought, then Margie got up and went over to the wardrobe, rummaging around. She returned carrying a book, which she gave to Christine, “Read this,” she said quietly.

Christine looked at it, “The Feminine Mystique?”

“Yeah, just read it, with an open mind. But lose the guilt, Chris. Forget all that bible crap. I mean it. That’s just a bunch of guys trying to keep women in their place. Do this. Don’t do that. Damn it. Simple as that.”

Christine looked up. “You…don’t believe in God?”

Margie snorted. “This isn’t about God. I believe, um, in something. But I don’t believe some old guy is watching my every move. If I want to diddle my quim and it feels good, what does God care? It’s, um, horseshit, okay. Men might care, they do care, actually, about us doing what we’re told, being obedient. It’s even in the marriage vows. But God, whatever he is, doesn’t care about our pussies.”

Christine nodded, checking this against what she believed; it was reassuring to have another woman say what she thought. They were both silent again, then Margie leaned over and kissed Christine gently on the lips, saying “Hit the hay,” then she started walking back to her bed.

Impulsively, and completely unlike her, or unlike how she presented herself, Christine called out, “Margie, wait; will you, um, please s-stay with me?”

Margie stopped and turned around, a small smile on her face, then walked back to the bed and lay down beside her roommate, kissing her cheek, ”Sure, tall, dark and lovely. I’m right here for you.”

Christine turned on her side and pressed her back and hips against the slightly smaller girl as Margie draped her arms around Christine’s body, one hand gently cupping a breast. And so they lay, and drifted off.

* * * *

“What do you want those pictures for?” Virginia asked quietly, now in her nightwear as she and Beverly sat across from each other.

Beverly shrugged, “Not sure, mother dear. It’s just kind of a blast looking at them. I have no blackmail plans, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Virginia studied her daughter, a girl she clearly did not know as well as she thought; if at all. Just then they heard the front door opening; Martha was returning from her night off.

* * * *

Hie Dhang was on the line to her only superior in America. They were speaking Korean, and the discussion concerned how the evening’s event had progressed. Dhang mentioned that apart from some good general development, she had likely found a girl who could be of assistance to them. Her superior told her to pursue it as she wished; she was experienced in these matters.

Dhang smiled as she hung up the receiver; then she picked up the black panties that were lying on her desk; they were still slightly damp. She smiled. The beautiful girl might be of assistance to her government; but possibly more so to herself. She was seldom wrong with young women, especially naturally submissive ones.

* * * *

Anne opened the door to the gentle knock and grinned at Beverly. “Hey, sailor, in town long?”

Beverly laughed and came in, “Depends. Much action around here?”

Anne unzipped her jeans and let them fall to the floor, then laughed, pulling them back up. “Your mom did a number on my clam, so hope you don’t mind if we just smoke, get mellow and cuddle?”

She picked up the joint lying on the end table and lit it, then passed it to Beverly who was now stretched out on the bed in Anne’s little flat. It wasn’t nearly as nice or as large as Paul’s, but it worked as a home base.

Beverly took the joint and sucked, inhaling deeply before passing it back. She held the smoke for a long time, before coughing, then smiling, and accepting the joint’s return.

“So, what’s your plan for mommy-dear, or do you have one?” Anne asked, evenly.

Beverly closed her eyes; she didn’t really have a plan as such; she just liked the idea of controlling her mother. Her parents were the reason she took off and travelled through Europe and beyond for over two years. She had even gone through one stretch of more than a year when she had had no contact with them at all.

Then, when she had returned, it was on her terms and with her life the focus, not what her parents, or their world, wanted. “Not sure I have anything like a plan; kinda makin’ it up as I go along, hey.”

“You still want me to, um, do stuff? I have some things of my own coming up, chief.”

“Hey, not a problem, you take care of business; I have what I need, for now. Anything I should know about?”

Anne got up and crossed to her dresser, where a small, portable turn-table was sitting. “Naw, nothing specific just yet,” she said, picking up a forty-five record and placing it on the device. The needle moved over and dropped as Anne went back to the bed, pulling Beverly up by her arm.

“Whatcha’ doin’?” Beverly asked.

“I want you to dance for me, lover. C’mon, I did stuff for you tonight. Now dance and strip; entertain me.” Anne flopped down on the bed as Beverly smiled and began to sway to the music. It was Tommy James; Crystal Blue Persuasion. “Better get ready,” Anne sang, “gonna see the light.”

Beverly slid her jeans and then her panties down, pulling off her top. She was as usual not wearing a bra. She cupped a breast and brought it up, snaking her tongue out to lick it, “Like this?” she murmured.

“Oh yeah…” Anne laughed, unzipping her pants and sliding her hand inside. “Just look to your soul, and open your mind…” She sang, as Beverly picked up a hairbrush, slowly inserting the handle into herself as she stood in profile before the bed, her hips moving with the groove and for Anne’s eyes.

(End of Chapter 04)    

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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 3 Suspicious Minds

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 03 Suspicious Minds

“…so, if an old friend I know, stops by to say hello, would I still see suspicion in your eyes…”

Christine had tried to reach the numbers that she had been given, but both women were not available, so she had begun going through the task assigned her for tomorrow’s dinner and event. She was just looking over the sheet Lana had given her when Margie came up, adjusted her glasses and said quietly, “Hi, um, rookie, grab your pen and paper and follow me.”

Christine did as instructed and soon the two were heading down the hall before turning into a room that was filled with books, “Our own library,” Margie announced, “to help us find the info on our sheets.”

Christine loved libraries and needed no further prompting and soon the two were hauling out encyclopaedias and books on Korea. The next time Christine looked at the clock it was twelve-thirty, and she realized she was hungry.

* * * *

Julia Sullivan was the senior of Douglas Silverberg’s two top aides, although at a youthful-looking thirty, she hardly seemed senior. She was however the one currently showing Gary England, new arrival, around. She never knew how or why people came and went from their staff; she was well aware that the Commerce Group was political in every way and she had her own belief that intelligence of some kind used them, but she never questioned things; this was a bureaucracy and it was not her place.

So, if the new Gary was really who his profile said he was didn’t matter to her; she would give him the tour and assist with assignments when asked and then keep her head down. She trusted her boss and wasn’t about to make even small waves; she had learned in her seven years working for the government that the less you asked, the longer you survived.

Sometimes literally, according to capitol myths.

* * * *

“England starts today?” the voice at the end of the line asked.

“Correct, we wanted him at least on site before the meeting with the Koreans begins,” Cliff Eagleton replied.

“Have we confirmed that the fellow, um, Ran is the likely connect with the North Vietnamese?”

Eagleton paused, a survival habit he had developed over the years. He had learned silence was of value when dealing with certain individuals, including the man he was talking to. “We believe that this Ran, Ji-Hoon, is actually Nan, a North Korean in fact, but I cannot state that with certainty; we’re still pursuing the trail back to Vietnam.”

“Hmmm,” the voice murmured, “cards close to the vest hey, Cliff?”

Eagleton paused again, “When you get something from me, Sir, you can run with it. You know me.”

“Right. Later.”

Eagleton sat looking at his telephone; it was good that he could deal with Douglas Silverberg; with him there was no bullshit.

* * * *

“So you and Anne are chums now, hey?” Beverly smirked at her mother as the two sat on lawn chairs in the back yard; it was a west-facing space so the sun was not beating down on them. Virginia paused as Martha came out with their coffee. No one noticed the ‘eye-roll’ she did after glancing at the bikini Beverly had on. Being a servant, she was mostly invisible.

Virginia waited until she heard the screen door close. “She spoke with you?” She replied, non-committedly.

“Oh yeah, said it was outta sight; she’d like to hook up again, how’s that, ma?”

Beverly regarded her mother with a grin and Virginia smiled; she didn’t know if the girl was pulling her leg; Beverly had always been a tease, even as a child. “Well, she has our number.” She paused. “I can’t imagine she’d want me phoning her though.”

Beverly reached down and pulled her pack of cigarettes out of her bag. “Well, she’s tough to get a hold of anyway, but I see her most days. I’ll just let her know.”

Virginia regarded her attractive daughter for a moment, thinking she wished she’d do something with her hair, but knew better than to suggest anything. “What are you doing these days, anyway? You’ve been out a lot, during the day I mean.”

“Yeah, well I’m workin’ for my buddy Paul, doin’ gardening and shit when he needs a hand. Pays not much but I like bein’ outside and I like workin’ with growing stuff, right? It’s cool, much as work can be cool, hey. We’re all working for the man, ma.” Beverly smirked, lighting her smoke.

Virginia grimaced slightly as Beverly blew smoke at her, “Don’t call me ma, dear,” she smiled, remembering Anne’s body and how excited she had been exploring it.

* * * *

It wasn’t until two that Christine was able to reach Julia Sullivan, who wanted to touch base about Saturday’s dinner. After that brief but pleasant chat, Christine tried again to reach Flori Hănescu, and was surprised when a man answered “Hello”; it wasn’t Hănescu, clearly, but the man went off to fetch her and in a moment her exotic voice answered, with Christine quickly giving her name.

“Ahhh, my small town American girl,” the woman chuckled. Christine waited awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed, but the older woman got to business, inviting Christine to lunch on Tuesday, “I’ll arrange everything, my darling, even with your boss. Leave it all up to me and I will see you in a few days.”

And then the line went dead, with Christine sitting in thought, still a little unnerved, and strangely excited with the word ‘darling’, and fighting off some long-time memories.

* * * *

“So, I gotta think Papa dear has some government buddies with nice places who could use some occasional yard work; not a full-time freakin’ gardener, just, you know, basic stuff, hmmmm?” Beverly asked, as they were now back inside.

“Oh,” Virginia pondered, this being something new, her daughter talking about work. “I’ll ask him. Obviously he knows tons of people, but you know he’s never been the biggest um, schmoozer, dear. At least away from work.”

“Hey, whatever, no great shakes, mommsy,” Beverly crooned, walking past her mother and patting her round, slacks-covered behind.


The girl just laughed as she headed upstairs.

* * * *

“Hey,” Connie O’Hanlon greeted her, leaning onto Christine’s desk, with a generous amount of cleavage showing. She sniggered, “Go ahead and look, babes, I don’t mind. I know I have large coconuts, so no big deal. You’re gonna’ see ‘em lots at the house.” She smiled; she was an attractive woman, tall (taller than Christine) and heavier, with a mass of curled, light-brown hair and the prominent and afore-mentioned ‘coconuts’. “So, it’s Friday night, nothin’ shakin’; some of the crew are goin’ out for a drink. You comin’?”

“Um, sure. I’m not much of a drinker, hey, but I really want to get together. Um, when, where; you’re the boss, right?” Christine replied.

Connie moved her bosoms a little closer to Christine, almost like she was challenging her, then said, “Well, Lana runs the house, hey, and she and I work as go-betweens for ol’ Gibby and the crew here, but I usually organize stuff like this. So, we’ll split this joint at just after four. We’re goin’ to Melvin’s Bar, just over on Pennsylvania. We’ll just walk and then cab it back to the house.”

“Okay, thanks; I still need to get my things from the hotel.”

“Oh, yeah,” Connie considered, “we’ll just have the taxi take us to your hotel and grab your stuff.”

“Um, I can, uh, dig it,” Christine smiled.

Connie laughed as she walked away, hips swaying, “Nice try, babe, but we know you’re a country girl. But we’ll bring you up to speed real quick.”

* * * *

Anne strolled through the park, looking like another aimless young person, but she was actually counting the benches she passed; when she reached the sixth in the row, she stopped, sat down and lit a cigarette, then calmly smoked it. When she stubbed it out on the ground, she quickly reached under the seat and found the paper that had been left for her.

Standing, she continued her stroll down the walk and out of the park and then down a street to a ‘greasy spoon’, where she ordered a coffee and then unfolded the note. On it were seven women’s names; the wives of either government department heads, top aides or military commanders. One wife on the list was even married to an aide for a four-star general.

It was up to Anne to check the women out; she would start tomorrow.

* * * *

Dolly, Margie, Connie and Christine were seated around a fairly small table in the smoky and noisy bar called Melvin’s. Christine had ordered a Tom Collins, like Connie, even though she wasn’t sure about it but it was gin, which she knew. A Side Car and a screwdriver rounded out the list, as everyone went for a cocktail.

“So, you know I really want to pick your brains, hey?” Christine called over the Friday din. The other three smiled and nodded.

“Figures, kid. It’s the way, right, you need the low down and we’re the gals in the know,” Dolly laughed and everyone nodded agreement.

Twenty minutes later, her head full of comments and ideas, Christine asked the question she really wanted the answer to. Everyone had finished their first drink, (even Christine) and were on their second, so the group was beginning to feel mellow. “Okay, gals, I need to know. Are we, the crew I mean, expected to, um, be, you know, intimate, with the men at the events we host?”

The women all looked around at each other, knowingly, each with their own situations and memories. Then Connie began, “So, by intimate, do you mean have sex?”

Christine blushed slightly and looked down, “Yeah, sure. You know; anything.”

“So, goin’ all the way I guess you’re thinkin’; but what about heavy petting or making out, are you asking that?” Dolly added, remembering two men in particular.

“Yeah, and what about dick-licking?” Margie chimed in and Connie laughed, with Dolly exclaiming, “Margie! Whoa;” although she had her own stories.

Christine laughed self-consciously; although she was limited in partners, she was not a sexual novice; yet there was no way she could ask these things publically if she hadn’t had a drink. “Well, I guess I need to know if we’re expected to go along with what these men want. How friendly are we, um, expected to be?”

Connie patted Christine’s hand, “You’re not expected to do anything but be pretty and pleasant. You’ll get your rear end patted and they’ll try to feel your boobs, especially yours ‘cuz they’re great, but no one expects you to sleep with anybody.” Heads nodded around the table, some with more conviction than others. Why alarm a new recruit needlessly?

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t get chummy with a guy if he tickles your, um, fancy.” Dolly laughed and the heads nodded again. “And maybe you’ll actually let him tickle your fancy,” she added and the group howled.

Christine then sipped her drink and went on. “Well then, have any of you, and I guess this is prying, but have any of you, um, got…real chummy?” This was greeted by winks and laughter. Christine would find out soon enough that ‘the crew’ would all deal with sexual pressure, and with the exception of Connie, all (even Lana) had given in to someone.

It was just something that no one talked about.

“Okay Chris-baby, here’s my deal, and I’m the next newest after you. I’m in just over a year now, and I’ve made out a couple of times but heavy with only one guy; he was with that delegation from France. But he was French, for crying out loud!” Margie exclaimed, and everybody laughed; they knew the story. “And we didn’t go like all the way; he made it to my panty-girdle and that’s it.” Margie smirked as murmurs and chuckles greeted this public disclosure.

“Okay,” Dolly began, “Connie knows this story, and keep in mind this is my fourth year doin’ this. So it was a couple of years ago, and this happens once in a blue moon, you understand, where we do a weekender. Four of us, including Connie and Marilyn, the gal who just left and another girl, Cheryl, and then there were two other girls from some other department, were included. Anyway, we all trucked up to Annapolis and a really swell place right there by the harbor. A swank place, I mean it.

There were five men with us and they weren’t the usual trade delegates, but some lobbyists who worked for the Democrats. You’ve all heard the stories about President Johnson and the bags of money that were always showing up?” Heads nodded around the table, apart from Christine who had never heard much, stuck in her little town or at college.

“Well, anyways, I guess these fellows had done a bang up job and were having a little reward, so we had a weekend at this lovely beach house, with steaks and lobster brought in and the whole nine yards. And it was great. There was this one fellow, Allan, from Houston. Really sharp looking, I thought he looked like Robert Redford. Anyway, me and him hit it off and we ended up sitting out on the porch looking at the moon…”

“That was your problem Dolly, you should never look at the moon with a man,” Connie kidded and everyone laughed.

“Yeah, well, I was a dummy I guess, but did I mention the champagne? Well, there was lots of the bubbly and I had my share and more. But we started making out and it was hot and heavy, and then Allan goes off to one of these little cabins, there were six, for guests or something, off in the trees. Anyway, he comes back with a blanket and we camp out right on the freakin’ beach. All night ladies, and you know the deal.

He had brought rubbers so he was prepared. Well, we did it right on the beach, more than once, watching the sun come up on my back as they say.” She laughed.

“But it was great, okay? Great. Nobody made me do anything, Christine. Allan came back to Washington later and we hooked up at his hotel once and he asked me to marry him, but I would have had to move to Houston.” She sipped her drink and everyone just looked at her, considering.

“Anyway…I didn’t go there!!” She announced dramatically and Connie cheered and Margie and Christine laughed. “But it was a gas, I can tell you. But here’s the thing, Christine, it’s up to you. No one expects you to even French a guy, let alone sleep with him.”

Connie noticed the look on Christine’s face and added. “Dolly means suck his cock.” This brought a mini-uproar from the ladies.

“Yeah, you got it; sock it to me and all that. But no, no getting to even second base if you don’t want it, that’s the deal, so don’t sweat it, kid.”

“Well, nobody’s puttin’ his Johnson in this mouth,” Connie declared, ending the discussion.

Christine sat and considered this as the chatter continued around her. She knew she was very inexperienced when it came to dating and being intimate, and this was the big city; the real deal. She’d need to keep her wits about her, or as Maggie reminded her, “Keep those elbows up, Chris baby.”

But also within her there was a tingle of arousal, which, for now, she ignored.

* * * *

“So you want me to hook up with your mom again? Why, exactly? You’ve made your point, babe,” Anne asked with a smile, before running her tongue up the side of Beverly’s face, then kissing her.

Beverly chuckled and continued to fondle the labia of her partner, almost abstractedly, enjoying the feel. She had always liked this part of a woman’s body; she didn’t know why.

“Well, you’ve opened the door. Mommsy enjoyed it for sure, so keep it goin’, hey? Come over tomorrow night. Daddy-kins will be off at some function and the doe-eyed house-keeper has Saturdays off and goes to the flicks.”

“Hmmmm,” Anne murmured, grinding her hips slowly against Beverly’s hand, “Saturday night and makin’ love to my friend’s mom. How choice is that, Clyde?”

Beverly laughed. “Yeah, but then there’s more of me later, Bonnie.”

Anne laughed and pulled her partner on top of her.

* * * *

With Friday curfew at their place being midnight, the four ladies had Christine back to her hotel and her suitcase packed before nine, then off to ‘the house’.

The building was an older, solid two-storey. The main floor had a very large kitchen and eating area and an old-style living room as well as a den, and a two-piece bath. At the end of a hall was a room for the ‘help’ to stay in. The lady who cooked dinner for them also did some light cleaning and would sometimes stay over, but she didn’t live there.

Upstairs were three bedrooms, a larger bathroom with a shower/tub, a small den or library and a fairly large storage room (where all the committee clothes were in fact housed). The women slept two to a room, and Christine moved into the room occupied by Margie.

The young woman, twenty-two, had just then come in to their room, a towel wrapped around her. Christine was sitting on her bed; the two beds were at either sides of the room with two desks and two chairs and then the door between them. Apart from the small wardrobe, a mirror and two paintings, that was it. The women’s empty suitcases were in the shared storage room.

Christine looked over as her shorter (five-four) roommate stood drying herself off. Margie then tossed the towel on a chair and flopped, naked, onto her bed, with Christine studiously avoiding observing her.

“It’s okay to look at me, Chris. Can we call you Chris? Anyway, it’s going to be real awkward if you keep trying not to look at me. There are six women here and we parade around in panties and bra or the all-together like this all the time, so you can’t lose your cool, Eddie.”

“Eddie?” Christine asked, eyebrows raised, focused on Margie’s face.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t they have television in that little burg you’re from? Seventy-seven Sunset Strip; Eddie Byrnes? Man, I thought I was from nowhere.” She sang a bit from the theme song.

Christine laughed. “We, well, there was television in Glen Rock. We didn’t get ours until sixty-five or so. I was a tom-boy, until I started, um, changing, so I was always outside a lot anyway.”

Margie came over and sat on Christine’s bed, lifting her chin. “Look at me.” Christine smiled grimly, but looked. Margie was pretty; like girl-next-door pretty, not a knock-out by any means but pleasant. Modest breasts, cute little rear end. There was a curling mass of very light, red/blonde pubic hair sitting between her thighs.

“Okay, now you.”

“Now me, what?”

“Clothes off, c’mon, we need to get over this. Don’t flip your wig, cousin. I’ll get the other gals in here and we’ll strip you if we need to. But then we’d have to tickle you, so just cooperate. Here…”

“Okay, okay, hold your horses,” Christine protested and then removed her blouse, skirt, bra, and pantyhose, before pausing at her white cotton briefs.

“C’mon, silly,” Margie teased. Christine pulled the underwear off and sat, self-conscious but, oddly excited. Margie noticed the hardening of the two pink nipples that topped Christine’s fabulous, round breasts.

“I think you like this,” Margie crooned, gently squeezing one nipple and eliciting a gasp from Christine, who started to raise her hands, then stopped, for whatever reason.

Margie laughed, then leaned forward and kissed Christine gently on the mouth, before straightening up and heading back to her bed, Christine focused now on the round buttocks moving away, slightly swaying, her heart pounding. For a moment she considered asking Margie to come back, but how weird was that?

The woman pulled on pyjama bottoms and grabbed her toothbrush and headed out, leaving Christine to sit and ponder. She also pulled on her sleepwear, a nightie, and lay on top of her covers, as the evening and the room were both warm.

She was bothered, a little, but mostly amazed at how nice, more than nice really, the kiss from Margie had felt. How different it was from the kisses of long-time high-school steady, Brian, the boy who had been her first and only sexual partner. His kisses were hard and urgent, leading as always to him wanting to put his ‘thing’ in her ‘thing’; something she rarely wanted or allowed, and never if he wasn’t wearing a condom.

Margie’s kiss lingered in her mind now, as the girl’s lips had lingered on her own. It was confusing, mostly because she felt again the sin of arousal, and her mother’s endless warnings about damnation and her soul, returned, fighting their way through the feelings of pleasure; just like back, then; at home.

Did God really care about her vagina and what she did with it? Christine pondered; it was all very confusing.

* * * *

Beverly came up quietly behind her mother who was standing at the sink, and placing a hand on each arm, whispered into an ear, “Gotcha!”

“Beverly!” Virginia exclaimed in a fierce whisper, not wanting to alert Martha.

“Mmmmm, we can’t go on together, with suspicious minds…” Beverly sang into one ear, gently kissing her mother’s neck as the woman struggled (mildly) to get loose.

“Beverly, stop this. I’ve told you, it’s not going to happen…,” Virginia whispered.

Beverly chuckled and gave her mother’s neck one more kiss, then said, “Just letting you know Anne is coming by tomorrow night and she’s feelin’ frisky, lover. Says she has a glove full’a Vaseline, just for you. Whatever that means.”

She then glided away, leaving her mother concerned but aroused, and still standing by the sink.

(End of Chapter 03)

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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)

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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)

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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)

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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)

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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)

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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)

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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)