The Devil's Due ((LitShark & kaitlyn_sun))

I can make your dreams come true...​

There had been a time when Damon Colt had fancied his soul to be a very valuable thing to him, when he felt like his life had a clear and achievable purpose, that he had direction and a voice and vision. Damon had a cause worth fighting for and the will to fight for it, he was a journalist—an outspoken advocate for the falsely accused, a crusader against systemic corruption in the law enforcement community. He wrote for a small but influential community paper in D.C. and when he was 22, he felt like he was really making a difference. There was a federal investigation pending into the wrongful death of an unarmed minor based on information that Damon had published based on information from an anonymous source.

It felt like he was making a difference, but really he was digging his own grave.

After long months of federal incitements to try and impel Damon to reveal his source were all met with adamant refusal, they changed tactics all at once, arresting him in the middle of a rally on the courthouse steps, charging him with inciting a riot (which had actually been instigated by plain clothes officers). Once he was in custody they added on one false drug charge after another, with the planted evidence to support it. Ecstasy, cocaine, LSD—things that Damon had never even tried were all turning up at his apartment in felony quantities, then there was the girl who died of an overdose from coke that they chemically traced back to Damon’s supposed stash and they added a manslaughter charge.

Even while occupying a cell to await trial, Damon was optimistic, he believed in the process, that the system at its core could be just. He wasn’t just some thug, he was an activist, surely the case could be made that the corrupt police he worked so hard to expose were setting him up. What Damon wasn’t ready for was the enthusiastic and persuasive case made by the District Attorney who was tied to all of the corrupt officers that were under Damon’s scrutiny. D.A. John Wright made the case of his career against Damon, demeaning his life’s work and painting him as a hippie drug-pusher rather than a serious activist—made it seem like his mistrust of the police came from his own unsavory practices. By the time Wright had made his case, Damon’s testimony sounded hollow and rehearsed—he’d predicted the argument for an acquittal and dismantled it before Damon could present it as the truth.

Fifteen to twenty years in federal prison was the sentence. Damon would never forget the sneer that John had given him when the judge read the sentence.

On the first night in the Federal prison, Damon couldn’t sleep, he just lay on his back staring at the ceiling in the dark. How could this have happened to him? How could the country he loved have grown so rotten at its core? How could the corruption have gone so deep? Damon resolved on that first night that he would get revenge, he’d make sure that at least one corrupt politician got what he deserved. He would destroy John Wright and whatever he held dear in his life… Once Damon’s mind was made up, he heard the voice for the first time:

I can make your dreams come true…​

Who said that?

Not who, but what. A way out. A way to revenge and pleasure… I am the way.​

I want those things… yes, I want it all!

Will you follow me?​

I will!

Will you grant me your immortal soul?​

Yes! Yes, anything to get my revenge!

It was in this way that Damon surrendered his soul to the Devil, alone in his prison cell, dreaming of revenge. In the years that followed, John Wright was rewarded for his dedication to corruption, moving from the D.A.’s office into a senatorial election, and the bribes he enjoyed grew accordingly. He moved his family into a mansion in a very upscale neighborhood. Damon, on the other hand, focused on improving and modifying his body. He lifted weights during every moment he was allowed to be out of his cell, he made friends with a tattoo artist and covered his skin in ink, grew a beard and also felt more virile than he had before his time in jail.

Damon was also able to develop and produce software that enabled users to record video and send the footage to the ACLU with a single click, in case cell phones were lost or damaged. The app had taken off as a vital tool for policing the police and as a result, Damon had made a handsome fortune from the inside. After fifteen years, Damon was released on good behavior to begin his parole and for the first time enjoy the spoils of his success as a developer.

On the last night in jail, Damon was reminded of his deal with the Devil in a dream, he confirmed for the apparition that he hadn’t forgotten. The demon that appeared in his dream used a brightly colored rose to tap him on the forehead and chest, “This is a blessing from an Incubus’ rose, it will allow you to compel women with your charm and seduce them with ease—use this boon only in pursuit of your vengeance or risk incurring the wrath of hell.”

Damon agreed and in the morning he dressed in his old clothes again and left the prison for the first time in nearly half his life. He didn’t look at all like the gangly activist they’d put away, he was a hard man now and it showed.

After a few hours on a bus, Damon found himself sitting across from a real estate agent and signing the mortgage on a brand new, aggressively modern home that sat across the street from a mansion rumored to be owned by a U.S. Senator and his family, but the Agent assured Damon that he hadn’t heard that from her—which was easy to imagine, since he already knew who lived across the street.

The house was still mostly unfurnished, after living in a 12’ x 12’ cell for so long, Damon was at a loss for what to do with all the space not occupied by a king sized bed, a couch and a plasma television. What else could a person require?

Blinds, of course were the first fixture that Damon installed, over every window and sliding glass door, he needed to have privacy. Staring into the Wright home through binoculars Damon began what would be his new career, seeking his revenge on the man who’d put him away. For now, John was home with his family, so Damon would have to wait there in the dark and continue watching.

***



“Amy! I don’t want to have to call you again, dinner is ready, get your cute little ass down here!” John called up the stairs, “don’t make me have to give you a swat!”

The table was set and Sarah was putting the finishing touches on dinner in their outthrust dining room wrapped in windows. John was still in his suit from work, but now had his tie pulled back from his neck and the top button of his shirt undone, he gave his wife’s rear a swift slap as she was setting a bowl out on the table.

“What did you make us tonight, dear? It certainly smells delightful,” John smiled, taking his seat at the head of the table.

There was something about the weather. Amy couldn’t help but feel like there was a storm coming. She stepped out of the history building, tugging her bag up over her shoulder, looking up at the cloudless sky. It was clear and beautiful, the late spring sun warming the air… but the breeze that ruffled her sundress carried a promise of something dense and heavy in the very near future.

She heard her name, and turned, smiling brightly and waving to the friends that had called out to her. She went over to them, chatting brightly, graciously accepting the compliments she got on her new jimmy choo wedges. They made plans to hang out over the coming weekend. She wanted to stay and keep chatting, but she knew she had to get home. Her dad insisted that they all have dinner together, no matter what. She said goodbye, and returned to the parking lot where she unlocked her Fiesta, and carefully held her dress to her body as she slid into the driver’s seat. She was grateful that her parents had gotten her this car for her birthday, just like she was grateful for the opportunity to attend a prestigious private school like Brightwater… but she really did wish she could have gotten an Audi. Her dad only wanted them to use American cars.

She drove home, her eye on the clock, worried about being late for dinner. Her dad was the best dad in the world, and she loved him dearly, but when his schedule got disrupted it really upset him. He worked so hard, she and her mother owed it to him to make sure they were there for him.

As she pulled through the front gate of her family’s compound, she noticed that the new house that had been built across the street in the last seven months had some lights on. She lifted her sunglasses, looking though the houses massive windows. Had someone finally moved in? The gate closed behind her, but even as she parked behind her mother’s Escalade, and ran inside, her dress flowing and bouncing behind her, she wondered if they might finally have some neighbors in what was an otherwise empty neighborhood.

She ran into her room, and pulled off her sun dress, knowing her dad liked them to be at least semi-formal for dinner. She quickly glanced at herself in the mirror, making sure she looked nice and clean…. Her white and pink matching clare bare bra and panties hugging her athletic body. She went to her closet, finding a nice pleated skirt and button up floral blouse. She buttoned herself up, turning in the mirror. He dad would love it.

------------------------------------------------------


Sarah had never really liked cooking.

Oh, she was good enough at it. She had learned a few basics from her grandmother, and had to cook for herself while she was in college studying art history. But when she married John Wright, one of the most promising young District Attorneys in the country, she was certain that she wouldn’t ever have to cook again.

What she hadn’t realized was that John expected her to cook. His mother had cooked for his father, it was simply what a wife did. She had been young and desperately in love, so of course she agreed. She took courses, worked alongside caterers, developed her cooking skills until she was able to regularly craft meals that made her husband happy. She kept it to herself that she’d just as soon have something delivered.

“Amy! I don’t want to have to call you again, dinner is ready, get your cute little ass down here!” John called up the stairs, “don’t make me have to give you a swat!”

John was calling up to their daughter. He always wanted to make sure Amy looked pretty when we had dinner together. She looked down at her dress, zipped all the way up her long, lithe body from her shapely legs to the string of pearls draped over her décolletage. She looked over at her husband, wondering if he would say anything to her about it. She picked up the salad bowl, and walked into the wide dining room with it’s wide bay windows, looking out over the garden.

Jon came in and gave her a quick spank as he walked past her, but then he simply continued past her, heading to his seat at the head of the table. “What did you make us tonight, dear? It certainly smells delightful,”

She gave him a sweet smile just like he liked. “Oh, just a roast with carrots and brussel sprouts…” she started to say, but a noise from the hall caught her husband’s attention.

Amy came in, practically skipping, looking fresh and young and beautiful. “Hi daddy!” She said sweetly.

John stood up and walked around the table, holding out his hands, sliding them around her hips to pull her into him, giving her a kiss on her pink little lips. “Hi pumpkin. You look beautiful.” he said, turning to pull out her chair. She sat, and he returned to his seat, unfolding his napkin to put on his lap, and then reaching for both his wife and daughter’s hands so he could say grace.

Later that night, after Sarah had cleaned up most of the dishes from dinner, leaving the scrubbing for Consuela in the morning, done her nightly exercises in the gym, showered, she climbed into bed next to John, who wore his glasses as he read the newspaper. She leaned across the bed, sliding her fingertips over his arm but he shrugged her off, focusing on a story about an oversight committee hearing.

She exhaled, and slipped from the bed, wrapping her silk robe over her nightie. She went out into the hall, resting a hand on an antique table… and looked out over the gardens.

From here, she could see the house across the street. She had seen a truck delivering something there earlier…. But she hadn’t heard or seen anything about anyone moving in. It’s lights were all out, but as she looked out across the expanse between their houses and into it’s massive full-wall windows, she thought she might see something moving in the darkness….

John made a face when his wife mentioned brussel sprouts as a part of the meal she’d prepared for them, he could have sworn that he told her that he didn’t like brussel sprouts. He was about to say something to her about the dubious choice of green vegetable when his gorgeous daughter entered the room and his objections were forgotten. Amy looked as angelic as ever, skipping in wearing an adorable pleated skirt and floral blouse. John stood up as the room seemed to grow slightly brighter with his daughter’s presence.

“Hi Daddy,” Amy said sweetly as she slipped into his arms, John’s hands moved below her waist to gently grasp her hips and move her lower body against his, getting her close as he leaned down to kiss her sweet, pink lips so tenderly.

“Hi Pumpkin. You look beautiful.” John smiled, reluctantly letting his daughter go and trailing his fingertips over the crisp pleats in his daughter’s skirt before returning to his seat, he folded a napkin into his lap to disguise the beginning of an erection that was building in his slacks.

John took his daughter’s and wife’s hands and bowed his head to say grace over the meal, “holy father, we thank you for this meal we are about to receive. We thank you for your grace and guidance and for bestowing such bounteous beauty and intelligence on our daughter Amy, and may you continue to bless and lift her up, oh Lord. Thank you too for allowing us to live in this beautiful house and for this beautiful family. Amen.”

*-*-*

Damon had abandoned his binoculars in favor of a telescope once Amy returned home from school. He watched her ascent through the house with unwavering attention. He was glad to discover that his bedroom had an unobstructed view of Amy’s bedroom window and watched as she admired herself in the mirror, modeling her sexy, matching bra and panty set.

Damon bit his bottom lip and grabbed himself through his jeans, his cock already growing rock hard in his pants at the sight of her young, lithe body turning and primping like a private show, just for him. He noticed that his hard cock seemed to be growing in size as well as turgidity… it felt larger than he ever remembered his cock being. Maybe it was just because it had been so long since he’d seen a nearly naked woman, any other explanation defied logic.

While he watched Amy change, Damon lit a cigarette—a nasty habit he’d picked up in jail, that he was still getting used to the idea that he could do whenever he wanted. Amy’s wardrobe choices did little to alleviate his growing erection and neither did Sarah’s skin tight dress as she set the table for their family meal. Seeing John again, several years older and in an even higher income bracket made Damon’s blood boil, but he reminded himself that his revenge was growing neigh and that he’d have a much grander triumph if he waited… it was much too soon to make John pay, but soon.

*-*-*

After dinner, when Sarah went to the gym for her workout, John retired to his office that shared a wall with his daughter’s room. He spent about half an hour responding to emails, updating his itinerary and so-forth, but he quickly grew weary with that and poured himself a Scotch. As he sipped his drink, letting the flavor of the aged liquor coat his palate, he lifted a framed picture of Andrew Jackson off of the wall, setting it aside carefully.

Behind the picture was a recess cut into the wall, with something like a cabinet over it. Once opened, the cabinet revealed a small pinhole cut into the wall of Amy’s room which had a magnifying lens mounted over it, keeping the hole tiny enough to be invisible on her side while opening up a nice, full view on John’s side.

John dropped his slacks around his ankles as he sipped his drink. He quickly grabbed his erect cock and began jacking off as he watched Amy changing into her bed clothes, grunting and breathing heavily as he watched but still holding back enough that he hoped she couldn’t hear him through the wall. John groaned long and loud as he came, blasting his jizz into an old pair of Amy’s panties that he kept in his office to use as a cum rag whenever he felt the need for them. Some dripped out and he used the old, soiled panties to wipe his cum off of the floor too.

*-*-*

While Sarah was finishing her homework and getting ready for bed, Damon was also watching, occasionally repositioning his telescope to watch Sarah doing her nightly workout in those form-fitted gym clothes that accentuated every curve of her body. When she went to the shower, he was able to give Amy his undivided attention, as the gym shower had no windows to peer through. Instead he watched Amy for the rest of the night, grasping but not stroking his hard cock… somehow it still felt too early to masturbate over young Amy—disrespectful somehow.

As the hours passed, the lights in the Wright house faded and before long everything was dark, though Damon though that he saw occasional movement from Amy’s room. When Sarah came into the hallway in her silk robe and nightie, Damon quickly moved the lens to the hall window… she seemed to be looking directly at him.

“Yes…” Damon sighed to himself, alone in the darkness, “notice me, feel my gaze on you… let my gaze caress your body… let my gaze touch you, like you haven’t been touched in so long… feel me Sarah. Feel me…”

Amy pressed ‘save’ on her computer. Her report was due monday, and although she could have waited until sunday to finish it, she really wanted to hang out with her friends tomorrow afternoon, and her father would certainly want to make sure her homework was finished before he gave her permission to go out.

She stood up, and stretched, reaching her hands up towards the ceiling. Her dinner with her family had been very good, and she had already brushed her teeth. She decided she would just get into bed and read, and get up early in the morning. Her father would leave for work even though it was saturday, but maybe she and her mother could go shopping so she could buy a nice outfit to wear when she went out. She unbuttoned her blouse, and draped it into the hamper, and then did the same with the pleated skirt she had worn to dinner. She smiled, thinking about how pleased he father had been with the outfit she had chosen, touching her skirt and hugging and kissing her. He was such a good father and took such good care of his family, and he deserved to have a daughter that dressed to make him happy.

She looked at herself in the mirror again as she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, reaching up to slide the straps from her shoulders and down her arms, letting it drop into the hamper. She turned to the side, looking at herself and how her blossoming body looked in the mirror. Her breasts weren’t so small anymore, she thought, idly cupping them. She was pretty sure they were bigger than her mother's. As she faced the mirror again, she lifted them a little, feeling their weight. They were nice, she decided…

For a moment, she wondered about the feeling she had… like someone was watching her. It happened sometimes when she was alone in her room and changing. It was odd, but she knew she was by herself, so she simply continued getting ready for bed, reaching down and sliding her panties past her hips and down her bare legs, again placing them into the hamper. She turned herself in front of the mirror again, looking at her young, naked body. I hope I’m pretty enough, she thought to herself.

She sat at her vanity and carefully removed her make-up, using a facial cleanser to make sure her skin felt fresh. Once that was done, she went to her dresser, and found one of the silk chemise her dad liked her to wear when she slept. She smiled at that; he took such good care of her. She slipped the silk panties up over her hips, and then pulled the top on, flowing and caressing her naked body. She pinned her hair back, and applied a little bit of eye cream, and got into bed….

The feeling was gone. She didn’t feel like she was being watched anymore. She inhaled, reaching for her book, wondering what it was that made her feel that way...


*-*-*
“Yes…” Damon sighed to himself, alone in the darkness, “notice me, feel my gaze on you… let my gaze caress your body… let my gaze touch you, like you haven’t been touched in so long… feel me Sarah. Feel me…”
*-*-*




The house across the street was empty. She was sure of it. And yet there was something about it tonight, something different. It’s wide open windows seemed to loom over their gardens, their home… and Sarah herself. She watched across the void, certain she was alone but still throbbing with the feeling of some presence in that house watching her, lusting after her…

The thought made her inhale, feeling a hot little tremor in her womb. John had been so busy, and was so focused on his career… and on Amy…

She slid her fingers inside her robe, tracing around her breast, feeling the silk of her nightie caressing her nipple. God, it had been so long. Her robe slipped off her shoulder, and rather than fixing it she reached to the sash tying it closed, shaking it free and letting it fall to hang from her arms. Her nightie, which she had worn to try to excite her husband, was skimpy and sheer, exposing her lithe body to the cool air…

Her fingers traced down her belly, pulling up the delicate material, exposing the slight whisp of silk and lace that made up her panties. She slid the tips of her fingers over her sex through them, feeling the delicate caress of silk, the dripping hot wetness soaking the material. She looked out across the darkness at the house again, feeling it’s silent eyes watching her, wanting her.

Want me, she thought, sliding her hand inside her nightie and fondling her small, supple breast, delicately pinching her nipple. I need you to want me. She tugged her nightie down, lifting her small breasts, exposing herself to the otherworldly eyes gazing at her. She shivered, still caressing herself over her panties. She couldn't remember the last time she had allowed herself to give in, to let her desire swallow her. She pulled her panties aside, exposing her carefully manicured little cunt, working her fingers into her own juicy depths, biting her bottom lip to keep from moaning. She worked inside herself, feeling her own delicate insides spasm and gush, her shoulders shivering… she let go of her naked breasts, and rested her hand on the table, fighting to keep herself upright, in full view of the house across the void

She slipped her fingers up, slick and gooey and dripping, and pulled herself open, circling her clit, tighter and tighter, faster and faster, her whole body starting to shake. She gasped, feeling the building pressure of her orgasm coming… she slipped her second hand up to her nipple again, and Pinched…

She looked at the house and whimpered under her breath, with no clue why… “I feel you…”

The orgasm clenched her. Her shoulders shaking, her back and thighs tightening… the firm muscles of her cunt twitching, making little spurts of her own cum squirt over her fingers onto the hardwood floor. She staggered back, her hand working through her hair, leaning against the wall, her expensive silk lingerie a lewd, disheveled mess.

Slowly, she caught her breath. She looked at the house as she slowly adjusted herself to look decent again, beyond the unmistakeable smell of sex coming from her. The house looked as empty as ever. She was alone…

Wasn't she?

*-*-*



Amy couldn't sleep. There was something in the air, something drifting in and out of her thoughts that she just couldn't identify. Gently, without really knowing what she was doing, she slipped her fingers into her panties under the covers, and gently, delicately, caressed herself. Her fingers danced lightly over her tiny little pink clit, making her insides flutter.

This seemed to calm her. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, her pussy softly creaming over her fingertips.

Damon licked his lips slowly as he watched Sarah, standing in the hallway of her home, facing his bedroom window as though she knew he was there—but she couldn’t, he reasoned. He was all but invisible in the dark and hidden behind closed blinds—but she felt him, it seemed more and more evident as she began to touch herself and became more and more aroused. Without letting his eye leave the viewfinder of the telescope, Damon unbuckled his belt and slid his jeans down his hips, releasing his hard cock. As he grasped the center of his turgid member, he noticed that it did seem to be slightly larger than before—larger and heavier too.

As Sarah dropped her robe down her arms, Damon sighed, savoring the sight of her exposing more of her gorgeous body. Damon thought about how much work it must take for her to maintain such a lithe and athletic figure after having a child, he wondered briefly if John appreciated her hard work to keep herself looking so good for him, but if he did, Damon supposed she wouldn’t be masturbating in front of the hall window.

She exposed her breast and played with it, demonstrating its firmness and perfect shape. She played with one nipple then the other, her fingers teasing at the faint cleft in her expensive looking silk panties until finally she pulled them to one side and exposed her bare pussy to Damon’s appreciative gaze. By now, he was stroking himself faster, grasping the center of his thick shaft with his whole fist. His breath was coming in shuddering gasps as he continued a conversation that he knew she couldn’t hear…

“Yess—oh, fuck yes, Sarah. I feel—I feel you too, you sexy fucking whore. Yes—yes!” his voice came out in rasping gasps as Damon jerked himself off, occasionally glancing away from the telescope to see the figure of Sarah at a natural distance, her nakedness still obvious even at a distance, “yes—I’m going to make you mine, Sarah. I’m going to teach you pleasure beyond your darkest imaginings… you’re going to be mine…”

As Damon was panting and moaning to himself, he saw—no, more like he felt Sarah whimper I feel you… and in that moment, he lost control of his climax and jizzed hard into his hand, just as Sarah was reaching her own climax and squirting onto the floor, some stray droplets spraying onto the bottom of the window pane. When it was over, Damon was panting and covered in a faint sheen of sweat. He watched Sarah continue moving throughout the house until she returned to her bedroom and he lost his direct sightline. He noticed some movement in Amy’s room, but it was too dark to discern anything specific. He slept soundly that night and dreamed of dark pleasures…

*-*-*

John did not sleep well, perhaps it was because the article he’d read about alleged corruption in the Senatorial Oversight Committee, but whatever the cause, his sleep was besieged by a nightmare, more vivid and tangible than any he could remember. In his nightmare, he was shackled, wearing inmate’s clothes and facing a terrifying visage—all black, consumed in shadow but towering above him, three times the size of a normal man.

This shadow figure loomed over him from the judge’s bench, making his already intimidating size even more terrifying. The shadows seemed to move with the figure, keeping his appearance shrouded in seething darkness. The apparition’s arms were the only part that were clearly visible—though they weren’t arms in the traditional sense, they were more like bundles of muscular tentacles writhing around each other and maintaining their order just enough to imitate arms and each of these corded, sinewy tentacles was covered in black ink, like tattoos that continually shifted and changed shape as the tentacles moved. Within the bundles of fleshy appendages, John was even more horrified to see his wife and daughter, each almost completely naked aside from scant wisps of black silk that barely covered one nipple apiece. Their lower bodies were completely consumed by the nests of tentacles protruding from the sides of this apparition—worse yet, each of them seemed to be enjoying herself, moaning loudly and caressing themselves like street whores.

John Wright, you have been found guilty of crimes against God and man,
your vain pursuits and morally corrupt practices have brought you to this,
now you shall receive your punishment… we condemn you to
the hell of cuckolds, on earth… may the shame break you entirely…​

It was like every word that came from the apparition caused Sarah and Amy to crest into a new height of pleasure, screaming, moaning and wailing for more. As each of the women in his life climaxed, clearly being penetrated in all of their holes, the beast just laughed and drove its tentacles deeper into his wife and daughter.

Somewhere around him, in the darkness John could hear other voices, chanting, almost singing guilty—guilty—guilty—guilty. John opened his mouth to try and object to try and beg for mercy, but when he opened his mouth to protest, only a glut of blood came out, splattering down the front of his suit, which only made the apparition laugh louder and his wife scream harder. The apparition reached for its massive gavel, picking it up using Amy, who began grinding herself against the handle as soon as it was aloft. The apparition brought down the gavel with a deafening crash, and all went black just before he woke again with a start.

I can make your dreams come true…​

*-*-*

In the morning, Damon made a few more necessary orders for finishing touches to the house and also set a standing grocery order for the local market, not wanting to leave his home more than absolutely necessary. He watched as John left for work, his attitude seemingly dismissive and curt with his family. He left without breakfast, only taking a moment to curse his wife for not having it waiting for him and left on what seemed like decidedly hostile terms.

Damon saw an opportunity.

When the groceries arrived, Damon gathered the necessary ingredients he would need and packed them away in a small, paper bag. He dressed simply, in a white ribbed tank top and black, silk pajama pants and made his way across the street. He rang the bell, and when Sarah answered the door he smiled kindly and began apologizing profusely.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I just moved in across the street. My name’s Dane. Anyway, like I said, I just moved in and I’m getting the kitchen remodeled—Viking ranges, granite countertops, all that sort of thing, but of course, I forgot that this would leave me without a kitchen for a few weeks. I was hoping, if you haven’t already made something, that I could cook breakfast for you and your family in exchange for use of your kitchen,” Damon made his proposition eloquently, maintaining intense eye contact with Sarah and maintaining a very charming smile, “if I’m imposing, I completely understand and I won’t bother you further, but I wanted to come over and introduce myself, just in case you might be hungry for crepes this morning.”

What had begun as a polite handshake was now evolving into a tender embrace of hands, as Damon kept his gentle grip on Sarah’s slender hand, lightly massaging at her palm with his thumb when she didn’t take her hand back.

“Would that be alright?”

There was no up, no down… she wasn’t floating, or swimming, or falling… nothing touched her, but every part of her surged with sensation… she held her hands over her face, shuddering and wailing with delight… there was movement… inside her…. Her naked body slick with her own arousal… she writhed in the empty space, unable to think or feel or move… just quiver as the nothingness drove her deeper and deeper into the endless cascade of sensation…​

Amy didn’t wake up all at once. Her eyes opened softly, discovering the gorgeous sunlight trickling through the curtains, warming her face. She cooed softly, feeling how her deep, soft bed, her thick fluffy comforter, and all her squishy pillows and stuffed animals cradled her in a nest of cushy delight. She squirmed in her bed, remembering her wonderful dream, rubbing her legs together and feeling how trembly and warm her little pussy was.

She reached out sleepily, and pulled one of her favorite stuffed animals down under her comforter; a big squishy bear named Mr. Fluffles. She parted her legs and pulled him between them, nuzzling herself into him. She rolled lazily onto her tummy, wrapping her arms around her pillow as she absently ground her hips downward, letting Mr. Fluffles knead against her moist little sex through her panties. She cooed softly, thinking about her dream…

It was going to be a good day.

*-*-*



John awoke with a gasp, his hand lunging for his own throat. He struggled to breathe, only managing deep, desperate gulps of air as his body tensed like he was having a panic attack. Slowly, his reeling mind found a way to order itself, and he leaned forward, sitting up, resting his arms on his knees. What… had happened? He had had a dream, he knew that… Sarah and Amy had both been there… Something… some sort of…

He glanced over at Sarah. She was still asleep, across their king sized mattress near the edge, as though she had barely managed to colapse into bed before falling asleep. She lay face down and on her side, the satin sheets pulled down to reveal her long, slender body in her black, sheer nighty, one leg stretched outward, as though she had dreamt of sex. Her mouth was partly opened, and she held one hand close to her lips, just touching them ever so slightly. Her short, stylish hair was disheveled and scattered. From where he sat, he could see that the inside of her thighs was slick with moisture. She made a tiny moaning noise, and her hips moved, rocking slightly into the bed. John felt his cock hardening, watching his wife had what looked like some sort of erotic dream...

Then, he felt something turn in his stomach. He didn’t understand it, but it had something to do with the dream he had just had… He looked again at his wife, but didn’t reach for her. He turned, and slid his feet to the floor, finding his slippers, his body feeling like he hadn’t slept at all.

*-*-*



Sarah came down the stairs, her body scrubbed, her hair fluffy, her skin creamy smooth. She wore a fluffy black dressing robe, her hands wrapped around a mug from the Keurig in her master suite bathroom, the smell of hazelnut wafting through her nostrils. Her legs were still shaky; after the orgasm she had given herself in the hallway the night before while looking at the house across the way, she had dreamed about it… about the presence she had somehow sensed in that house taking her, claiming her completely… filling every part of her while John stood by watching helplessly. She had awoken in an empty bed, her sheets drenched with her arousal… So much that she wondered if she had actually cum in her sleep.

The most intense part of the dream had been that EVERY part of her had been filled. John was, when he was in the mood, more about enthusiasm than size, and there were parts of her that hadn’t been touched since back when she was in college and she had owned a toy. Moreover… she had NEVER had anything, toy or real, in… that other part of her. But the sensations had been so vivid, so real… even as she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, the movement of her legs brought a very real, surging ache from inside her that made her whole budy shudder with pleasure.

She came into the kitchen, and John was there, closing his briefcase, already fully dressed, his tie crisp and neat.

“Good Morning, Darling.” She said, crossing the marble tile in her pretty bare feet.

“It’s almost Seven.” He said, the tone of his voice making her pause. “You haven’t made my breakfast.”

Sarah blinked. Make his breakfast? After her long night of erotic thoughts, she hadn’t even considered that he’d want his breakfast. Yes, she usually made him a complete breakfast before he left for his office, but it was Saturday. “I… didn’t think you’d want one this morning…” She offered, her eyes apologetic as she lifted her mug to her pretty mouth, blowing across the top.

He slapped the last latch of his briefcase shut, yanking it off the table. “That is absolutely preposterous, Sarah. You are my WIFE. I work VERY hard to provide for this family, and I ask VERY little, but having a healthy breakfast in the morning is INCREDIBLY important to make sure that I can do my job. I have DOZENS of people counting on my at work, not to mention THOUSANDS of constituents all across the state… and MILLIONS of party members all across the country all counting on me to steward them with confidence, and none of them care if their senator’s job performance drops because his wife is too busy frigging herself in bed to get up and do her duties…”

“Oh, fuck you, John!” Sarah threw her mug on the floor, shattering the porcelain and spilling hot coffee all over the marble. “You’re a GROWN MAN. You can fry your own goddamn eggwhites.”

John stared at her in shock, but she didn’t care. There was a long, pregnant silence. Finally, John turned, straightening his tie, and left the kitchen. In a moment, she heard the front door open and close. Sarah sat down at the counter, feeling her anger in her own blood. She had never complained about making his breakfast. In almost twenty years of marriage, she had gotten up, made herself beautiful for him, and made sure he was fed and happy. What had come over her?

Amy came down the stairs, and into the kitchen, bright and smiling as always. Sarah looked up, taking in her stylish denim shorts and the crisp red flannel shirt that she wore rolled to her elbows, the bottom few buttons undone and tied in a knot to reveal her pretty little tummy. She always looked so pretty, Sarah thought. It was no wonder that John always…

“Oh, mom! What happened?” Amy exclaimed, instantly finding a towel and getting down on her bare knees, cleaning up the coffee on the floor. Sarah stood, a little embarrassed that she hadn’t moved to clean up the mess. She grabbed another towel, and got down to help her daughter clean. “It’s nothing, sweetheart, we just had a little accident…”

The front doorbell rang.

Sarah rose to her feet, a little confused. They had visitors fairly regularly, but they were always scheduled, part of John’s work. They lived on such a desolate stretch of road that they had never had anyone come over unannounced. Amy looked up at her, her eyes big and helpful. “Should I get that, mom? You’re not dressed.”

Sarah looked down at her robe. She wasn’t sure if she should be answering the door, but she preferred that she open the door rather than Amy, and she decided she was decent enough. “No, thank you, Amy, I can get it, but you’re very sweet to offer.” she said, reaching down and touching her daughter’s cheek affectionately. No matter how much John preferred their daughter over her, she could never really blame her. She was such a precious girl.

She went to the door, and looked through the peekhole, and felt her insides melt a little bit. The man on the other side was so handsome it hurt… his hair slightly discheveled, his arms and shoulders rippling with elegantly corded muscles. He held what looked like a brown paper bag in arms speckled with tattoos, something she usually detested. But on him…

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I just moved in across the street. My name’s Dane.”

He went on, smiling the most beautiful, perfect smile she had ever seen. He had just moved in, his kitchen wasn’t ready… and he was offering to make her family breakfast. Somewhere along the way she found her hand in his, the firm and powerful fingers somehow strong and tender… she felt nerves within her hand twitching signals right through her spine and between her legs, making her knees unsteady.

Oh god… she though to herself. The neighbor. The man in the house across the street. The person that she had fucked herself imagining, the person who made her cum so hard she could barely walk, who had taken her in her dreams in ways she had never imagined. This was him. He was standing right in front of her, real and gorgeous and polite and wanting to come into her home.

“Would that be alright?” he asked, still holding her hand.

She blinked, feeling her mouth open as she looked at him. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen… and he looked like he had just gotten out of bed. He even smelled… Sarah had to shake her head, realizing that his smell made her almost faint with arousal. “Y… yes… of course, Dane…” She managed, holding the door open for him, still holding his hand. “We were just getting ready for breakfast, we’d love to share out kitchen with…” someone so handsome, she thought… someone who can make me cum so hard that I drive John out of the house… “a new neighbor.” She led him into the kitchen, where Amy was on her knees with a handbroom and dustpan, cleaning up the last of the mess. She looked up at them, her face just about at Dane’s waist level. Her eyes seemed to brighten, like they always did when she met a new person, but then her eyes trailed over his body, and she seemed to grow a little softer.

“Amy”... Sarah said, still holding his hand. “This is Dane, our new neighbor. He’s going to make us breakfast, because his kitchen isn’t ready for him yet.”

*-*-*



Oh. oh…. Oh my.

Her mother was wearing nothing but her robe, and it was parted down so that you could see the space just between her perfect little breasts…. And she was leading him in by the hand. Amy’s shoulders slumped, and her lips parted, feeling her mouth get moist at the sight of him. He was perfect. Completely perfect. She was lucky she was on her knees, because if she had been standing she might not have been able to stay on her feet. He towered over her, like an obelisk for her to worship. She wondered if her mother had noticed the way the front of his pajama bottoms hung over…

“H...hi…” she offered in barely a whisper.

Damon smiled brighter as Sarah agreed to let him in, while also subconsciously refusing to let his hand go after their polite handshake. Her hand was so much smaller and softer than his, Damon couldn’t resist the urge to gently pass his thumb over the back of Sarah’s hand and knuckles as she led him into the house. Damon’s hands were hardened by months of manual labor inside the system—the fact that he was independently wealthy from the widespread success of his video app never stopped him from drawing the worst shifts imaginable in prison: woodworking, metal shaving and pressing, gravel shoveling—fifteen years of brutal labor had made his palms hard and smooth.

Damon continued smiling his beguiling smile as Sarah introduced him to Amy, giving a cursory recap of his situation. After one last caress of Sarah’s palm, Damon extricated his hand from hers and offered it down to the beautiful young woman, still kneeling and unmistakably staring at his crotch. When Amy took his hand, Damon casually shook it downward, causing the back of her hand to just casually brush against the oblong bulge in his pants, letting her feel the length and girth of his member as well as the raised crown of the head as it glanced across her slender wrist.

“It is a sincere pleasure, Amy,” Damon smiled, releasing her hand with some genuine reluctance, “you have such a beautiful home here, I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to share your home. Everything—everything in here is just so… beautiful! I’m repeating myself, I’d better just make my way to the stove before I embarrass myself.”

Damon chuckled and shrugged, giving off the impression of good-natured sincerity, nervousness, humility—whatever else he thought could make him seem less threatening to these beauties who rightfully should have felt threatened if they knew who he was or even a fraction of what he intended or of what he was capable. As he made his way over to the stove, Damon stepped a bit closer to Amy than he needed to, from where Sarah was standing it just looked like he took a long step to avoid the last remnants of coffee and broken porcelain that Amy was finishing cleaning—but in reality, Damon deliberately brushed the bulge of his flaccid cock across Amy’s face, first touching the corner of her pink lips and dragging across her cheek as he passed by her, but not enough that anyone could tell it was deliberate. Just… an accident of his anatomy—like a tall person bumping their head on a door frame.

One of the more advantageous side-effects of Damon’s time in prison was that he spent enough time working on the line in the prison commissary that he had a working knowledge of food preparation comparable to anyone with their Le Cordon Bleu certification. He first filled a teapot with water and set it to boil while also pouring oily, artisan coffee beans into a mechanical grinder. After a few seconds of loud whirring, he poured the grounds into a French press that he’d brought from home and while waiting for the water to boil, he put an empty frying pan over heat.

“It looks like at least one of you could use a fresh cup of coffee, I get these beans from a portly little Frenchman who lives in Ottowa, he imports and roasts them himself… the man is a God among roasters. I can’t drink anything else since I tried his brew the first time—I shouldn’t spoil it. Just wait…” Damon smiled again as the teapot began to whistle, “Sarah, would you kindly set out a few cups. Amy, I don’t know if you like coffee or not, but if you would like some I’m sure I made plenty.”

After sliding a pat of butter into the now hot frying pan, Damon pulled the kettle and poured the boiling water over the grounds. He then placed the lid onto the French press and began slowly pushing down the plunger that controlled the dense strainer, fitted with several copper coils, taking the opportunity to also flex his chest and shoulder muscles while he strained out the whole grounds.

In what seemed like one movement, Damon pulled the pan off of the heat and reached across Sarah to grab the handles of three clean mugs, while also wrapping his arm around Sarah in such a way that she was confronted by his masculine smell for a moment, even with the smell of fresh brewed coffee so strong in the air. He wanted her to smell him… he wanted her to learn to love his smell. As he poured the coffee, the bubbles that formed around the edge of each mug reflected a rainbow, a sure sign of the overall quality of the beans that made up the brew.

“Just a tiny hint of cream…” Damon smiled, pouring the tiny bit of cream into his mug first and then into the other two cups. What neither of the girls could have known was that the cream had been spiked with just a tiny bit of Damon’s cum from the night before—not enough that anyone could taste it, but just enough for Damon to test out just how potent this blessing of the Incubus’ rose was. “please, enjoy.”

Damon took his sip first, hopeful that the magic of his cum wouldn’t affect him, but not entirely sure. After sharing a first taste of the coffee (which was even better than Damon remembered it), he returned to the stove, sliding the bubbling oil from the butter in a circle around the pan before returning it to the heat. Next from the bag he pulled a plastic thermos that was cool to the touch and had a trigger near the handle that opened the spout. After giving the heavy thermos a few good shakes, Damon pulled the trigger and poured the pre-mixed batter into the hot pan, letting it spread out and form a perfect circle.

After setting the thermos aside, Damon retrieved a pair of long, bamboo chopsticks from the bag and used them like a less skilled chef might have used a spatula, freeing up the corners, shuffling the half-formed crepe around the hot metal surface, until at last—gripping just the tiniest piece between the two long chopsticks, he whipped the entire thing out and flipped it over in one perfect motion, landing dead center without spilling a drop of raw batter. The top looked like a cross section of a young tree, perfectly golden brown, with rings descending out from the center where Damon’s pour had started. It was such a luxury to be only cooking for three instead of sixty-three.

“Oh shit!” Damon exclaimed suddenly, looking away from his pan to Sarah’s inviting green eyes, seeming as though there was a genuine problem, “I brought peanut butter and Nutella, but I forgot to whip the cream. It’s still liquid and we can’t have crepes without fresh whipped cream! Sarah, do you think that you could whip some air into that while I finish these up?”

With his eyes still on Sarah, Damon folded the edges of the crepe inward and slid it across the pan to prevent it from sticking. He grabbed a plate from a nearby rack and tipped the pan over to slide the perfectly golden brown crepe onto a plate. If he was lucky, Sarah would undertake the task of whipping the cream to soft peaks dressed as she was in nothing but a robe, it would have surely been something worth watching as she vigorously whipped her arm back and forth for ten minutes or so.

“Amy, want to try the first one? Let me know if I did alright,” Damon smiled, passing the plate across the counter and giving Amy a wink that somehow skirted the line between sexual flirting and condescending parental pandering, so that it was unclear if he was treating her older or younger than she was with the wink—but in either case, there was unmistakable meaning behind it.

While he placed the jars of Nutella, Skippy and Smucker’s strawberry jam behind the plate he’d passed to Amy, he was also pouring the next crepe into the pan which was hot enough now that he had to lower the heat to prevent any decline in quality. Once the pour was finished, he turned his attention back to Sarah, for the first time letting his gaze move below her chin, looking at her chest as she tossed her arm in narrow circles, causing her firm, perky little tits to bounce all around inside her ever widening robe.

“How’s that cream coming? Almost there?” Damon smiled, flipping and folding the second crepe in half the time, “looking good there, Sarah.”

This time it was Sarah who received a wink, but there was no parental condescension behind this wink, it was purely sexual. It wasn’t long until each of three plates had been loaded with two crepes each and six oranges were juiced into a clear pitcher. Damon insisted that they should eat at the table, and neither young lady objected. Damon sat in John’s place.

“Let’s dig in,” Damon smiled, deliberately leaving out the “Grace” part of their meal ritual, he was not John, nor did he want to be. He just wanted to take John’s place, “thanks again for letting me cook, I was going to go nuts if I had to do Dunkin Donuts for breakfast again. Oh, that reminds me. I'm not sure if either of you have plans today, but if either of you has time, I could really use a lift to the mall a little later. There are a few things I need to pick up and my new car hasn't arrived yet.”

Amy stated openly, and couldn’t find a way to make herself stop. He was like a rockstar. He had that effortless charm, his whole body just dripping with sex no matter what he was doing. He smiled so easily, so unlike her father, his grip on her hand so much firmed than the touch she was so familiar with from her dad. And then something about the way he had moved brought her hand against the front of his pants, and she felt her heart jump in her chest, her pale skin flushing a hot pink; she had touched his thing. She hadn’t meant to, it was just some quirk in the way their hands had parted, but there was no mistaking it, it was this dense, heavy SHAPE just sitting there, hanging stiff and firm from his body. The shape in his pants left her confused. She had seen one before, when her boyfriend had talked her into having sex after her junior prom… but this was NOTHING like what she remembered…

Then he was moving, and she tried to scoot back to give him room, still staring up at him in awe… but as he moved around her, the way he stepped brought him even CLOSER to her. She blinked, her eyes big and confused, staring up at him, her mouth partially open… his pants slid across her cheek, and then her mouth. That huge dense shape moved across her face, dragging slowly. She inhaled heavily… the smell of him making her eyes flutter closed. Without meaning to she held out her tiny pink tongue, softly dragging it along the length of him, wanting to taste him to see if it was as good as he smelled. She was mortified when she realized she had done it. Why? He would think she was crazy! But he didn’t seem to notice. He simply went with her mother to the stove, chatting away, unaware of the wet streak she had left across the front of his pants. He offered her coffee, and she felt a knot of wicked guilt in her stomach. He was treating her like an equal, like an adult worthy of his respect… and had no idea that she had just licked his crotch like some sort of… she didn’t know what.

*-*-*


Sarah watched Dane work, feeling her legs go limp with his every gesture. She remembered the sensations of the night before, of his eyes on her, of the way she had felt compelled to expose herself to him, to open herself completely so that he could see inside her. Even now, as he reached across her with those amazing arms, she absently slid her hand inside the front of her robe, watching him, gently tracing her fingertips around the underside of her breast, feeling the gentle trickle of her own arousal between her legs.

He handed her the most expertly crafted cup of coffee she’d ever seen. She sipped it, loving it’s subtle flavor and texture, rolling it through her mouth. There’s something about it that made her adore it, but it wasn’t a normal coffee flavor. Something illusive, something she couldn’t quite name… but she knew she wanted more of it. She burned herself a little, drinking her coffee a little too fast, eager to get more of that taste.

He continued to display his unerring skill at the stove. Even though Sarah didn’t care for cooking she hardly ever went a day without fulfilling John’s demands that she do it, so something about having this gorgeous man so effortlessly offer to do it for HER made her feel a gentle swelling. “God that looks so tasty,” she offered, stepping up behind him as he flipped the crepes, letting her hand rest on the small of his back… and maybe just a little below.

He exclaimed that he had forgotten to whip the cream, and she quickly did as she was told. She hated cooking, but it felt natural to follow his instruction. She went to work with a wisk, beating at the bowl…

*-*-*


Her mother looked like she was in the middle of having sex.

Her robe was parted, exposing her almost all the way down to her navel. She worked vigorously at her task, and even though her breasts were small, Amy could see the softness of them gently trembling with each twist of her wisk. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and she looked at Dane with something close to hunger; her lids heavy, her shoulders taut with effort and arousal.

Amy sipped her coffee again. She had only had coffee once before, and it had tasted NOTHING like this. She never wanted to drink anything else.

“Amy, want to try the first one? Let me know if I did alright,”

She stepped closer to him as he held out a plate to her, nodding gently, still uncertain about speaking to him, as though that might break the spell that made him appear in their home. He looked at her with an expression that… seemed like he knew something secret about her. She swallowed, her hand resting on her bare tummy as she reached out and took it from him, her body not sure what to do about the sensations he was making her feel.

She felt his fingers touch hers on the side of the plate, and her hands trembled.

*-*-*


“looking good there, Sarah.”

She exhaled heavily, her exertion giving her a delicate sheen of sweat across her naked chest. He looked at her with a secretive glance, and in that moment, she knew that what had happened last night wasn’t just in her mind. He HAD seen her. He had watched what she had done to herself. He knew every inch of her body, and knew how desperate she was to have him inside her…

She dropped the bowl on the counter suddenly, panting. She needed him to take her. He had materialized in their home, and she knew why… he was here to fuck her, to treat her like his personal whore. She could feel the word inside her, and as she stood before him, her body open and dripping and ready… she knew that it was what she was. He simply had to say it, tell her to go upstairs, or hop onto the counter… or merely drop to her knees.

But instead, he assembled their breakfast, and told them to go to the table. She looked at Amy, having completely forgotten that she was there. The poor girl was staring at Dane like a lovesick puppy. She had no idea that Dane was a full grown man. He wasn’t like her father, he didn’t just want a pretty little girl to fawn over him. She’d have no idea how to take what this new man in their lives wanted, not the way her mother did…

*-*-*


They sat together in their usual places, but with Dane in place of her father. There was no grace. They just ate. She felt herself looking up at the head of the table the way she often did, but instead of feeling protected and safe, she felt anything but. She felt like this man could do things to her that she barely understood...

“I could really use a lift to the mall a little later. There are a few things I need to pick up and my new car hasn't arrived yet.”

“I can drive you!” She said quickly, looking at her mother. “I finished all my homework, I can do it!”

Her mother looked at her with an expression she didn’t quite understand. She spoke slowly, as though she was choosing her words very carefully. “You don’t have to do that, sweetheart. You… were going to go out with your friends.”

Amy shook her head. That… wasn’t fair. “But… you’re not dressed, mother.” she said instead.

They looked at each other for a long time. Finally, her mother looked at Dane. “I suppose Amy can go with you to the mall, if you like.”

((The following is a collaboration between LitShark & kaitlyn_sun, please enjoy! ))

Damon smiled and reached across the table, gently taking Amy’s hand in his own for just a moment and giving it a gentle squeeze. He reached past her hand next and wiped a tiny smudge of Nutella from the corner of her mouth, bringing his thumb back to his lips and smiling as he scraped the hazelnut spread from his finger with his teeth.

“That’s wonderful, Amy. This will be perfect, thank you so much.” Damon grinned, turning back to his plate and cutting a piece of crepe with his fork and lifting it into his mouth, “I’ll be much better situated once I get the things I need. I might be able to use your help too, Amy. I need some electronics and I don’t really have any idea what I’m looking for—other than ‘the best,’ I only want the best of everything from now on.”

With this last remark, Damon turned his attention back toward Sarah, giving her a highly suggestive look as he chewed his breakfast slowly. Next he finished his cup of coffee and set the mug aside.

“I should probably get ready, but my bathroom isn’t finished either—wouldn’t you know it. Sarah, I hope you’d be so kind as to let me use your Master bath for just a few moments. Only long enough to freshen up for a bit. In fact, would you show me?” Damon asked seductively, reaching carefully across the table to wipe a tiny splash of partially whipped cream from Sarah’s collar bone and lick it from his finger next.

In truth, Damon knew exactly where the Master bathroom in their home was, and it was slightly obvious by the way he led her rather than following. It didn’t matter anymore, Damon didn’t care to be careful, he could see the want in Sarah’s eyes—she wanted to be taken.

The moment that Sarah stepped into the expansive Master bathroom Damon closed the door behind himself with a sudden slam. He turned the lock closed slowly, with deliberate intention. He closed the space between them in a flash, his lips finding hers in a fit of passion as his coarse hand slipped inside of her robe, grasping her breast firmly as his tongue moved slowly against hers.

- He was on her in an instant... At once completely overwhelmed. She had barely understood that she was alone with him, and then he was everywhere, his presence swallowing her whole. Her head lulled upward, her body melting under his touch, unfolding to him. She felt her robe sliding off her shoulder, exposing her nakedness to him, his hands crushing her tender breasts... her knees went to jelly under him, the swelling arousal throbbing outward from her gushingly wet cunt....

He pushed her bodily against the tile wall, letting their lips part for just a moment as he untied her belt with a single swipe of his other hand. "Good whore..." Damon smirked, tossing open her robe and letting his eyes move over her exposed, athletic body. His thumb gently captured her nipple between the edge of that digit and the edge of his hand, he pinched tighter, wanting to hear her whimper.

- She collided back against the expensive marble tile with a thud, crying out in surprise and pain. He looked at her with something she almost couldn't identify, hunger and contempt and lust... Her mouth was still open from his kiss, her lips still plump, almost bruised... her breath coming in short gasps. "how dare y..." she started, but couldn't even complete her attempt to defend herself before she squealed in shock as he yanked her robe open, leaving her completely exposed, from her gasping chest to her trembling, slippery wet thighs. Her hands went up against the wall behind of her of their own accord as he twisted her nipple, driving her up onto her tiptoes... she moaned incoherently as her eyes opened wider, unable to look away from him. He had seen her naked already, she knew; Last night, he had seen her. She had cum for him. He knew exactly what she was.

Damon smiled at her feeble attempt to muster even a corner of an objection, he scoffed audibly and squeezed her perky tit tighter with his almost supernaturally strong hand. “I dare more than you dare to imagine, whore. Don’t you dare to pretend to be my equal, otherwise I might just leave you wanting and enjoy myself with your daughter instead…” as he said this, Damon’s other hand moved up between Sarah’s quivering thighs, his middle finger following the trail left by her weeping juices until he was gently parting her inner lips and pushing just the very tip of his finger inside while his thumb settled on her clit, “you ought to be begging me to finish quickly, before she comes looking for you. You ought to be asking what you can do to please me, like the cum-guzzling whore we both know you long to be.”

- She squeezed her thighs around his hand, whimpering softly as he slowly eased himself inside her. She clenched her eyes shut, not taking her hands away from the wall as though they were bound there somehow. He was raping her... raping her right now. But she couldn't make herself stop quivering in ecstasy, because it was what she deserved. She WAS a whore, she knew it, and Dane knew it. knew it better than her husband did, better than SHE did. Large tears rolled down her cheek, and down her neck. She felt the sharp stab of pain as he continued to hold her nipple in his vise-like grip. Her hips squirmed, either to get away from his probing fingers or to take more of him inside her. Her open mouth trembled, her words barely finding any voice at all. "w...what.... can.... I...."

Damon slid his fingers deeper inside of Sarah’s hot, wet gash. He wanted to fuck her, wanted it badly… but it was too soon for that. He needed to own her first. His fingers felt out the spongy patch along the top of her opening, feeling for her G spot as his thumb continued to coax her clit out from under its fleshy hood. “What are you saying, whore? I can’t understand you at all,” Damon taunted, suddenly spitting loud and aggressively into her open mouth, “how worthless can one slut be? Beg to suck my cock clearly and coherently and I just might allow you the privilege. Otherwise I’m going back downstairs to fuck your daughter in half. Beg me, you unworthy fucking slut!”

- His spit tasted hot in her mouth, and she groaned because she loved it. Loved his abuse, loved the pain of his hands on her. Loved that he knew exactly what she was an what she was worth. As his fingers pressed upward inside her she shuddered as he pressed up into the sensitive membranes in her cunt, shooting sensations outward, down her legs, up through her womb... She fell forward, her wrists falling limply against his arms, her forehead leaning on his shoulder. She was a married woman... she was a mother... was a leader of her community.... and she was a worthless, slobbering whore....

-"please..." she whimpered, not knowing how to express everything she needed from him. More. More of this. Please. Make me this. "let me..." she staggered, feeling her own tears falling onto his shirt, "let me suck.... your... cock...." she looked up at him, her eyes big an moist, her hips grinding into his hand all on their own... "please... let me.... be yours...."

“Pathetic,” Damon sneered, shoving more of his fingers into Sarah’s greedy little cunt and rubbing harder on her clit, “cum for me, show me your devotion and I’ll consider making you mine. But I won’t let you taste me until you surrender your climax to me.”

By now his index and middle fingers were buried inside of her to his knuckles and his hand that had been tormenting her chest moved up to wrap around her picturesque throat, closing her arteries first and then her windpipe, choking her as he fingered her, the sound of her wetness squishing under his fingers was now audible since Sarah’s wanton moans were silenced, he continued to finger fuck her until he felt her pussy muscles begin to clench and then her legs tremble, it was then that he released her throat, “cum, whore.”

- She groaned breathlessly. her knees were giving way. her useless hands slipped from their perches against his forearms, and she clung to him uselessly, looking up at him... her pretty face turning red as he cut off her breath... She was sinking, falling slowly downward, held up almost solely by his brutal assault on her cunt... her eyes rolling back into her head, her bruised lips soggy as a streamer of her own drool trickled from the side of her mouth...

- There was a sound, out in the house... Amy was doing dishes....

- Her pussy clenched his fingers, the firm muscles of her cunt squeezing him almost painfully... the sloshing juice of her orgasm soaking his hand to the wrist as she made a desperate, pitiful gagging sound, losing her ability to stand, starting to fall down to her knees on the marble tile...

“That’ll do, slut…” Damon smirked, extracting his fingers from inside of Sarah and tasting her fluids off of his fingers, even as her ejaculate dripped from his elbows. Damon lowered his pajama pants, touching the front for the first time and discovering the wetness there, “I think that your daughter licked my pants.”

Damon chuckled to himself, remembering the moment he passed Amy in the kitchen, grabbing a fistful of Sarah’s short, curly hair in one hand while he freed his cock from its confines with the other hand and gripping the base, using it to slap Sarah in the face lightly, smearing a bead of precum across her bottom lip slowly. “Go on then, whore. Suck that huge cock. Prove your worth to me.”

- She choked and sputtered as he released her, letting her collapse to her knees. She dropped her hands onto the floor in front of her, shivering at the intensity of her orgasm. Her robe finally fell the rest of the way from her wrists, leaving her completely naked on the floor in front of him, a sobbing mess.

- As he yanked her up by her hair, she reached up, crying out in pain, grabbing his wrist, only to feel the blunt heavy weight of his cock strike her... It was the first time she had seen his cock, and as it left a gooey smear of precum across her cheek, she looked up at him, unsure if he was serious... that she really was being allowed to suck him.... She released one hand from his wrist, tenatively leaning against his powerful thigh as she turned her head to the side, catching his bobbling head in her mouth. He was so THICK, thick and hard... harder and thicker than any cock she had ever seen, and certainly harder and thicker than her husband...

- For a second, a glimmer of confusion crossed her eyes. Her husband... she was married... this... this wasn't right... but his hand tightened in her hair, and she groaned, rocking her head forward, her mouth stretching... taking more of him...

Just as Sarah groaned , relenting, Damon also groaned from sheer pleasure—for the first time in over a decade his cock was inside a woman’s mouth again. Her mouth was so warm, so moist and soft, he couldn’t resist the urge to pull her head forward by the hair and push his hips the opposite way, burying himself into her sobbing, collapsing throat. She was like a flesh massage machine, working the heavy girth of his shaft with her gagging and retching throat—it felt so divine.

“Yes! Yes, good whore. Swallow my cock, just like that…” Damon sighed, sliding his other hand onto the back of Sarah’s neck and forcing her face into his lap until his balls rested on her chin. Her body convulsed and retched a few more times before fully accepting the length of him down her throat. “That’s it, now lick my balls too! Yes, that’s a good, useful, obedient whore. You’re almost ready for your reward.”

Just as Damon felt his climax approaching, his cock jerked inside of Sarah’s throat the size and density of his cock inside her causing her whole head to move. Her face was turning bright red by now and the trail of clear throat jelly pouring down her chin made a puddle on the floor, mixed with her squirt. The woman was an absolute disgrace, tears streaming down her face, her eyes rolled back in her head and rapidly becoming more blood shot. With all this going on, Damon wrenched his cock out of her clamping throat and began to blast his thick streams of nearly scalding hot cum into her gaping throat and mouth.

“Swallow!” Damon commanded, the first jet alone filling up Sarah’s mouth completely and overflowing her mouth to join the network of saliva strings, precum and throat soup that joined her lips, throat chest and pussy in a web of goo to the floor, “here comes more.”

The next hot jet of cum painted her face in one weaving, sticky network and hitting with enough force to splash into her hair. When the third glut of cum poured forth it dumped back into Sarah’s mouth, filling her to overflow again.

“Good! Don’t swallow yet, hold it. Good whore. Now gargle my cum, let me hear it bubbling… good… that’s a good slut. I might just pity you enough to own you. You are one pathetic, cum gargling slut. Does your husband know what a slut his wife is, probably not. You can swallow now, whore.”

With his balls sufficiently drained, Damon used an eyebrow pencil to write his phone number on a sheet of toilet paper. He stuck the thin square to her forehead, using the mess of his cum dripping off her face to make it stick.

“Tonight, you’re going to call me from the hallway window. If what you’re wearing pleases me, I’ll allow you to come over and pleasure me some more. If I find you to be competent at serving me, I’ll continue to consider making you my whore. As always, if you disappoint me, you’ll regret it.” Damon said casually, rinsing his dick and balls in the sink while also using John’s deodorant stick. “Oh, and get another shower, slut.”

After that, he never even looked in Sarah’s direction again, Damon went on to splash his neck, chest and balls with John’s cologne and change into a pair of John’s slacks—they were pinstriped, more daring than John could pull off at his advanced age. Lastly, he threw on a white, collared shirt from John’s closet and left it open, rolling up his sleeves as he returned downstairs to Amy.

“Okay, kiddo. Ready to head out?”

Amy dutifully went about cleaning up the dishes from their breakfast, her mind a little hazy as she thought about the way Dane had touched her cheek and licked away the nutella from his finger. Was she reading too much into it? His cock had seemed so big and hard and heavy as he had dragged it across her face, and she had wanted so desperately for it to be on purpose… and the look he had given her when he had given her her crepes! She could feel her pussy still slightly moist at the thought of it. He had seemed very intent on her mother too, but of course, that was just him being nice; her mother was married.

She finished pre-rinsing all the dishes, and put them in the dishwasher. Consuela would be in shortly to do all the afternoon cleaning, but she still liked to be very thorough. She wiped down the counter and the table, remembering the way Dane had looked at her over their wonderful breakfast… She stopped, leaned heavily against the table, squeezing her legs together, and took a long, deep, heavy breath. He was SO hot.

She looked down at the way she was dressed, her crisp little red shirt knotted above her belly, and her designer denim shorts. Did she look good enough for him? Was she pretty enough? It was the same questions she had asked herself about her appearance the night before, thinking about her father, but suddenly the feelings were more urgent, growing from the pit of her stomach. She almost felt panicked. She dropped her cloth on the table, and ran into the great room, looking at herself in the long mirror behind the bar. She turned to her side, examining the curve of her bottom, the flatness of her taut little tummy, running her hands up to her breasts, holding them up, unbuttoning another button from the top of her shirt and opening it up, looking at her cleavage. She had larger breasts than her mother, she knew it... and she wanted to look as good for Dane as she could. She ran her hand through her hair, pulling it back behind her ear…

“Okay, kiddo. Ready to head out?”

She looked up, and saw Dane descending the stairs. He had changed. Something about the way he was dressed filled her with a glowing sense of comfort. She felt a swelling in her chest, looking at him, her smile growing wide and bright. She hopped to the bottom of the stairs, resting both tiny hands on the bottom of the banister, waiting for him eagerly, nodding. “Anything you want, Daddy!” she said…

She didn’t notice her slip.

*-*-*



Sarah sat in a corner of the marble tiled shower. The overhead cascade shower head was on at full pressure, the water scalding hot, turning her richly tanned, creamy soft skin a ruddy red. Her head rolled from side to side, letting the water flow over her face and down her nakedness. She moaned pitifully…

And came again against her probing fingers. For the fourth time.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what Dane had done to her. What she had become for him. She had been a sloppy, worthless, disgusting mess, her own gurgling stomach juices flowing down her cheeks and neck, little bubbles of cum forming in the froth around her mouth. Her cheeks and chin ached from him having stuffed so much cock inside her… It was far, far more than she had ever taken before, far more than she had ever imagined would fit inside her body… Far more than she had ever gotten from…

She inhaled a sharp, stabbing breath, her eyes snapping open under the scalding water.

John.

She looked down at her body, seeing the firm muscles of her stomach and thighs twitching from having cum over and over. What was she doing? What had happened?

She clamored uncertainly to her feet, her knees so weak she needed to lean against the side of the shower. Fragily, she reached for the shower knob, and turned off the flow of water, her skin screaming at her from the scalding heat. She stood there for a moment, catching her breath.

Finally, as her muscles started to throb and she felt she could control them again, she reached for the door and slid it open… looking at the gooey puddle on the tile floor. Cum and spit and tears and the flooding, goopy mess he had made gush from her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to bend down to clean it. Instead, she stepped gingerly around it, dropping a towel on it, counting on Consuela to clean it up before John got home. She reached for her robe, but it was just as ruined as the floor. She exhaled, dropping it into the hamper. Hopefully they could save it, although she was almost scared to wear it again and remember how she had felt with it on.

Her body was still dripping wet as she stepped, completely naked, out of the master bathroom and into their massive bedroom suite. John’s clothes were scattered on the bed, the aftermath of Dane’s arrogant raiding of her husband’s closets. It barely registered to her as she crawled wetly into their satin sheets… It was hardly the first thing of her husband’s that Dane had stolen today.

She reached for the phone by her bedside, and limply pressed the auto dial for her husband’s office. She needed to hear his voice. After a long moment his secretary answered, and asked if she would mind calling back later. He was very busy, she explained. No, she replied… the throbbing in her throat reminding her of what had happened to her since the last time she had tried to speak. She needed to talk to him now.

He answered, but he was clearly distracted. She tried to ask him what he was doing today, tried to get him to express some interest in her, in her life… even tried to insinuate that she was eager for him to come home, that she might wear something special for him… but he seemed uninterested. Whatever he was doing in the office, it mattered far more than the phone call from his wife.

Finally, she hung up, dejected. Part of her was glad. Part of her remembered that it wasn’t her husband that knew exactly what she was, and all she was good for. It wasn’t her husband that told her EXACTLY what he was going to do with her, and the did it, without remorse. The man that DID those things had already told her exactly what she was supposed to do tonight. She started to think about exactly what she might wear tonight when she went to the hallway for him… something that would please him. She closed her eyes, starting to rub her fingers against her labia again, feeling her pussy start to grow warmer and wetter as she wondered exactly what he might do to her tonight if she earned it…

*-*-*



Amy sat nervously in the driver's seat of her little Fiesta. She couldn’t believe he was in the car with her… She kept glancing down at herself, eager to look good for him…

“Angela, would you come in here please?” John called into his speaker phone before pressing the flashing key that switched him back to Line 1, “anyway, Roger. There’s really nothing to worry about—IA does these probes all the time—they have to, just so that the taxpayers don’t realize what impotent, feckless do-nothings they actually are… Yes! They did an inquest like this on me when I was a D.A. and nothing came of it. Our little ‘Ways and Means’ operation is nothing compared to that graft, and they still came up empty…”

As John seemed to be listening to what was being said by Roger Cole, the Senate’s majority whip, his beautiful, young intern Angela came into his office, dressed in tight fitting, but work appropriate attire. He was glad to see that she was wearing a skirt, it made it that much easier to get inside her. When she entered, John snapped his fingers three times to get her attention, then pointed to the notepad on his desk where he scribbled a note to her in pen: take your panties off and get my cock hard.

Angela blushed for a moment but decided not to interrupt his important phone conversation, instead complying, albeit reluctantly. John unfastened his belt and pants dispassionately, already so comfortable with his relationship with his young intern that he exposed himself to her with barely a thought—with no more gravity than if he were pouring a cup of coffee. Angela was blonde, which John enjoyed, even though her ass wasn’t nearly as round and firm as Amy’s was. Her breasts were slightly larger than his wife’s but not quite as large as his daughters and was nearly the same age as Amy. As she knelt below his desk, as he’d taught her, to begin sucking his cock John resumed his phone conversation.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, just trust me, alright?” John answered into the phone, cradling it against his shoulder as he grabbed hold of Angela’s neat ponytail, “I’ll make this go away before it can even touch any of us… that’s right. You can hold me personally responsible if the inquest uncovers anything relevant… we’ve covered our steps too well for that. Alright, talk to you soon.”

John hung up the phone and let go of a long pent-up sigh of pleasure from Angela’s enthusiastic efforts on his now rigid cock. He managed to force her head down on him, burying her face in his lap just once before she retched and pulled back, eager to tell him something.

“Your wife—“ Angela gasped, trying to regain her breath, “she’s holding on two. I asked her to call back, but it sounded urgent.”

It ought to have worried John that his wife was calling him at work with something too urgent to wait, but he just couldn’t get over how sexy and adorable Angela looked with his cock still holding her lips from closing all the way while she told him about the call. It made his already hard cock even harder and as he lifted the receiver from the cradle and clicked over to line 2, he shoved Angela’s head back down on his shaft.

“Yes, dear… what’s the matter?” John asked, doing a poor job of masking his impatience at having to deal with his family while he was busy getting blown by his barely legal intern, “oh, you know—ten pounds of bullshit in a five pound bag, public service as usual. I thought you said this was urgent…”

While Sarah continued trying to dress up mundane small-talk as something glimpsing urgency, John turned his chair and backed away from his desk, dragging Angela with him quite roughly. He forced her back to her feet by her hair and bawdily turned her around to face away from him. He hiked up her smart, businesslike pencil skirt with one hand, then grasped the back of her fashionable belt to drag her back into his lap. He pulled her down onto his hard cock without regard for her arousal—fortunately for them both, she was already wet, one of many advantages of fucking women younger than his wife: no foreplay required.

“Uh-huh… that sounds great, Sugar.” John sighed into the phone, just as he was burying himself balls deep inside his impressionable, young intern who was the same age as his daughter, “I’ll look forward to it. Maybe make us something special for dinner, too. It’s been a long time since I had your famous lasagna.”

Over and over, John tugged Angela back into his lap, flooding her tiny frame with cock while maintaining this casual conversation with his wife. “Okay, sweetheart… I love you too.” he said at last, hanging up the phone and burying himself inside her again in the same motion.

“Next time, you make sure to find out what the emergency is,” John scolded the girl in his lap, who’s ass wasn’t quite as nice as his daughter’s, “that dumb pampered bitch doesn’t know a crisis from a fashion faux pas. Come on, don’t get lazy, I’m almost there, girl.”

“Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh—fuck! Yes, Daddy! Whatever you want.” Angela moaned, sending John over the edge and filling the condom she’d put on him before sinking down on his cock.

*-*-*

Damon smiled and looked over at Amy as they pulled away from their houses, he laid his palm gently on her smooth, bare thigh. He leaned close, as though sharing a deep, dark secret in response to her question, “I might have told your mom a little lie… see, I said that my car wasn’t ready yet, but really I haven’t even bought a new car yet. I need one, and I can afford it, but I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about what’s good anymore. Before we go to the mall, I want to pick up a car, but I need your help. What’s the best car out right now? What would you drive if you could have anything at all?”

As he spoke, Damon’s hand moved casually higher on Amy’s leg, but stopped well short of anything that might have been considered overtly sexual. It was more like friendly contact, but after he’d finished sharing his secret and sitting back in his seat, his hand remained, caressing just a little…

“So take me somewhere I can get your dream car, then you can drive that one the rest of the way.”

*take your panties off and get my cock hard.*

Angela blushed, but she still set down the notepad she was carrying on the edge of his desk, and carefully reached under her skirt to slide her pantied down her naked legs. She hadn’t realized when she took this internship in the Senator’s office that she would spend so much of her time with his cock inside her, but in retrospect she felt like it made sense. He was a powerful man, and he was used to having his way with the people around him. She was the youngest and, it seemed, prettiest girls here, so she had been selected as his personal intern…

And, she thought as she settled into the space under his desk and leaned over his lap, taking his cock inside her mouth and starting to suck him in earnest, the girl he instructed as his designated daytime sextoy.

She bobbed her head up and down, careful to make keep her mouth wet and firm for him, but to suck him clean with each upward movement. He might have to stop at any time, and it was important that he not have a messy cock if he had to go meet another important person. She settled herself in the familar confines of his desk, feeling his hand on her ponytail and making a mental note that she’d have to quickly redo her hair when she stopped in the Senator’s bathroom to redo her make-up before returning to her desk.

She heard him hang up, and felt him stuff her head down over him, taking a big gulping swallow in an effort to make his forceful thrust into her throat more tolerable. He held her there longer than she could comfortably manage; she hadn’t been a very good cocksucker when she had taken this job, but she was getting better all the time thanks to the way he constantly used her. He finally released her, giving her a moment to breathe. She retched a bit, chastising herself for not doing better for him. She gasped for a moment, knowing he was off the phone and using that moment to tell him what she had come in to tell him… that his wife was on the phone.

She thought about that, as he stuffed her back down onto his cock. The Senator was a married man. She had never imagined that she would so regularly have a married man using her like this, but again, a man like him needed to have complete control. If this is what he needed, then she understood her place. She struggled to stroke his cock with her mouth, gulping to make her throat undulate… She kept going even as he held her face against his crotch, scooting backward, dragging her forward on her knees. She reached into the shirt pocket of her crisp white blouse, finding a condom, knowing that he would only be pulling her out from under the desk if he planned to use her. As he lifted her up to her feet, she tore the condom open, and fitted it to the head of his cock, rolling it down his length just in time for him to turn her, hike up her skirt, and pull her back down into his lap. She reached between her legs, finding him, and sliding him up into her. She nuzzled her skinny little bottom into his lap, working him snugly inside her, biting her lip. He always wore a condom whenever he fucked her or, she assumed, any of the interns he had used in the past.

She started to bounce in his lap, one hand on his knee, the other reaching back to rest on his chest. She rocked her hips, letting him feel how small and tight she was, watching him tell his wife that he loved her, all while plunging himself up into her. He hung up, and gripped her, redirecting his energy into fucking her, making her have to take a shuddering breath to keep quiet. There were people outside after all.

“Come on, don’t get lazy, I’m almost there, girl.”

She knew what he wanted. It made her feel so very strange, but she was there to give him what he needed. “Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh—fuck! Yes, Daddy! Whatever you want.” He groaned, and she could feel him thrusting forward with each spurt. She cooed, making him feel good, and reached down, holding the condom in place as she slid off of him. She dropped down to her knees, carefully pulling the condom from his cock and tying it, holding it in one hand as she slid her mouth over him, sucking him gently as he finished his orgam, letting his cock slip back to it’s normal size. She he was done with her, she stood up, and tugged her skirt down, taking the used condom into the bathroom, and flushing it down the toilet. She stood there for a long moment, watching it go down the toilet, thinking about what she had just done. She looked into the mirror, turning on the water and letting it run, carefully unfastening her disheveled ponytail and retying it, and finding her lipstick from her skirt pocket and reapplying. She looked exactly the same as she had when she entered the Senator’s office, just the way he liked.

No one would be able to tell that he would make her leave her panties with him.

*-*-*



The way Damon touched her leg was completely sexless. It was just his bare hand on her bare skin. But she felt her stomach flutter nonetheless… her chest swelling as she could barely restrain her smile. He was leaning so close to her, she could smell him. She couldn’t believe she was alone with him.

“What’s the best car out right now? What would you drive if you could have anything at all?” he said softly, slowly caressing his way further up her leg, making her thighs feel limp. There was a trembly feeling between her legs as she struggled to remember to watch the road no matter how badly she wanted to look at him.

“Um.. an audi?” she muttered, absently lifting her hips in the seat, wanting him to touch her more. “Audi’s are….” she bit her lip, not believing she was saying it “...sexy…”

He continued to caress her, and she gasped a bit, realizing that he was going to keep his hand on her. “So take me somewhere I can get your dream car, then you can drive that one the rest of the way.”

She muttered a wordless acceptance, and took an earlier exit than she would normally take on her way to the mall, into a small stretch downtown that had several auto dealerships. She glanced at him, looking embarrassed, as she pulled into the dealer and pointed sheepishly at the car sitting out in their showroom floor.

“Sexy, huh?” Damon smiled, gently squeezing his hand around Amy’s lithe thigh while he tasted and weighed the sound of the word on his tongue, “sexy sounds about right, yeah. Sexy sounds like exactly what I’m looking for. Come on, follow my lead.”

Once the car was parked, Damon climbed out and waited for Amy to join him at the front of the vehicle. When she got there, he took her by the hand and playfully turned her into his arms, kissing lightly at her neck while his other hand caressed her denim-clad hip gently. He led her by the hand away from her own car into the large, marble floored showroom, seeking out the most dynamic, sport-ready vehicle on the floor and steered her toward it. Once they were beside the sleek, expensive automobile, Damon steered Amy in front of himself, sliding his hand around her middle and guiding her lower body back against him, until the outline of his long, firm cock nestled between the firm contours of her ass.

“Now there’s one fine looking couple, I’m Bobby O’Connor. How may I help you, today?” the round-bodied salesman called jovially as he approached them, “I see that the R8 has your attention there, that’s a helluva machine. Show’s you’ve got good taste there, sir—not that I couldn’t tell already from the quality of your companion here.”

Bobby did a great job of embodying the commonly accepted idea of the sleazy car salesman, red-faced and sweaty in spite of the air conditioning inside the showroom. He clapped Damon on the shoulder and took Amy’s hand to his lips and gave a rather sloppy kiss to the back of her hand, leaving a faint smear behind, but any disgust she might have felt was quickly chased away as Damon moved his palm ever so slightly across her exposed midsection, letting his fingers lightly trickle over the subtle lines of definition in her stomach. He shifted his hips faintly, nestling his cock a little firmer against her tight ass.

“’Ello my good sir,” Damon began suddenly, continuing his work at toying with Amy’s body while affecting a fake British accent, “my darling intended here tells me that Audis are the sexiest cars on the road, and since I live only to see her pleased, I simply must have one for her—or, rather have her in one, as the case may be. Money, of course, is no object.”

Damon released Amy’s hand just long enough to delve into the pocket of his slacks and extract his sturdy-feeling black card from its place in his wallet, he flashed the card the same way a detective might flash a badge, with a similar level of effectiveness.

“Well, well, aren’t we just a lucky young-lady,” Bobby chuckled in Amy’s direction, “if it’s a sexy car you’re looking for, you could do no better than this ’17 R8. Ten cylinder, five-point-two liter engine, six-hundred and ten gallopin’ goddamn horsepower, zero-to-sixty in under five seconds and all leather interior standard. This car is hot enough to melt asphalt, by God.”

“Since we’ll be paying up front, with no loan, I expect to receive some reasonable discount. Since I’m choosing not to finance.” Damon continued on with his broken accent, the edge of his pinky lightly tracing the top hem of Amy’s tight denim shorts as he continued to caress her exposed midriff and rock his hips against hers.

“I’m sure we can work something out.”

Sarah scowled at herself in the mirror, turning to look back over her shoulder at the way the soft silk panties lay against her pert round bottom, exposing just the very bottom of each of her cheeks, elongating her long elegant legs. She huffed her frustration, and whipped them off, throwing them into the huge pile of silk and lace and cotton on the bed.

No.

nonononononoNO!

This was ALL wrong. Dainty, pretty, elegant lingerie that cradled her and caressed her, and made her a proud princess of her domain. It was garbage. Utter garbage. That wasn’t what she WAS. She thought again about the puddle of nastiness sitting under the towel in the bathroom that she had retched out of her own filthy body when Damon had revealed to her that he knew EXACTLY what she was. There was nothing here that would show him that she was ready for him, that she knew what she was good for…

There was a sound in the hall. It couldn’t be… he was out with her daughter, buying a car… wasn’t he? She rushed for the doorway, reaching numbly for her robe but not thinking enough for her hand to close over it, she flung the door open, her hair rushing forward, falling over her face as Consuela turned to look at her, a basket of laundry in her arms.

“Mira, Mz Wright, you frighten me!” she said, resting a hand on her heavy bosom. “Are you ok?”

Sarah blinked, realizing she was completely naked, her arms clutching the doorframe, her jaw clenched tightly in a near panic. She slowly lowered her hands, pushing her fingers through her hair to get it out of her face. She shivered, feeling the muscles in her entire body running hot and tight, making her tremble.

“No…” she started… looking around. “I… I mean, yes... I am…” she said, starting to turn, returning to the master bedroom. She stopped, and looked back behind her. “Actually… Consuela… I… I got a little sick in the bathroom, I hope you can clean it up…”

She wandered into the room, looking at the pile of thousands of dollars of lingerie scattered disdainfully across the room. This… wouldn’t do. She knew it. She needed to be ready for him, and what she needed wasn’t here. Numbly, she went to her drawer, taking out a carefully folded set of workout clothes. She pulled them on, not bothering with underwear. She found an overcoat, and pulled it on, as well as a pair of red patent leather pumps… not caring if what she wore matched or who saw her. She walked out of the room, passing her maid as she came down the hall with a mop and bucket.

“Are you going out, Mz Wright?” Consuela asked, her face skewed with concern.

She didn’t answer… just grabbed her purse.
__________________



Amy didn’t totally understand what was happening. She hadn’t ever been there when someone bought a car before. The small salesman was kissing her hand, and Damon was touching her, his powerful hands caressing her exposed tummy… they were talking, but his voice was different….

But what she was very certain of, what occupied almost her entire consciousness, was the fact that her round little backside was pressing back against him… and the thick bulge, the shape that had dragged across her face that morning… it was aligned perfectly with the cleft of her bottom. She could feel the way he was aligned inside his pants… he was aiming straight up… and the hard pressure of him was pressing right against her. And… was he… was he pushing? Sliding the… the length of his… of his… against…

Her mouth was softly open, her eyes fluttering closed as she moaned softly, her little body trembling in his hands.

The salesman was talking to her. Talking about the car. She just… couldn’t make it out. She tried to hold her eyes open, to look at him, to hear him… but all she could be certain was happening was that Damon was gripping her and working his hips against her… it was… almost like…. He was…. pushing… inside….

“Oh my goodness,” she said softly, her body faltering forward, bending at the waist, catching herself against the side of the car, trying to support her body as Damon clutched her from behind, pushing his clothed cock against her denim-clad backside…
__________________



“Hi there, can I help you?”

Sarah looked up from the rack. She had found her way to the mall, and into one of the large extravagant lingerie stores. She was looking through the racks when the young woman, she guesses she was probably in her mid twenties, with stylish purple hair and a ring artfully decorating her nose, walked up to her.

“I… I think… I hope so.” she stammered, her eyes a little glassy.

“Ok… what are you looking for?”

Sarah blinked, the question settling into the pit of her stomach.

“I… I’m a filthy cockslut…” she said, not quite realizing she was saying it out loud. “I’m a disgusting, worthless whore who deserves to be raped over and over and over…” The sales girl's eyes went wide, but she couldn’t stop herself. “He… he needs to see it. See… that… that I’m nothing. Nothing but… but a useless fuckslut…”

She felt a tear form on her cheek as her hand started to slide it’s way to the hem of her workout shorts…

“Just fuckmeat for him to use…”

The sales girl's hand shot out and caught Sarah’s wrist, and she gasped, her eyes snapping alert. Oh god… what had she done? What was going to happen to her? She bit her lip, her face pleading. “Please… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…. Please don’t...”

“Shh.” the salesgirl said, placing a single manicured finger on Sarah’s lips as she glanced around the store before looking back at her and smiling at her wickedly, speaking in a soft growl. “I think I have just what you’re looking for…”
__________________



Amy tucked her foot up underneath her, closing her eyes as she leaned herself forward, holding out her tongue as she very deliberately licked a damp little trail over Damon’s jeans.

She wasn’t sure how she had gotten there. She was sitting on the floor, her legs curled up to her side, leaning forward to look up at Damon’s body. His legs stretched on either side of her as he sat in the comfortable chair in the salesman's office, leaning forward, working on paperwork as he joked with the man. One hand was resting on the side of her head, stroking her hair and her cheek as she carefully licked her way over the thick hardness inside his pants, leaving little trails of wetness in her wake…

She was hidden from the salesman’s gaze by his desk, and it was becoming harder and harder not to reach up and cup her breast through her red flannel shirt, and squeeze her nipple...

The salesman was effectively impressed and envious by the way Damon wielded and teased Amy’s body as he danced her around the showroom. Dan, the salesman, inhaled his gum when Amy bent forward, placing her bare palms against the polished paint of the brand new car, arching her back as she pressed back against him-- an older couple staring at them with a mix of disgust and envy before retreating the showroom floor.

“My love here just really gets excited for a fine motor vehicle like this, you’ll have to excuse her for a moment, she does get carried away sometimes,” Damon smiled in Dan’s direction, reaching his palm under her chin and gently wrapping his fingers around her throat and lifting her back to upright, “what’s say we go sign some papers, yeah?”

As the signing process began, Damon took Amy’s hand under the table and placed it over the swelling outline of his cock, but once again, she surprised him by slinking out of her chair and onto the floor as soon as Dan left to bring back the final paperwork, she started licking him, slowly and deliberately, tracing the outline of his cock with the tip of her tongue while her caressed the side of her face and hair gently… his plan was almost working too well. She was in store for a harsh crash back to Earth.
__________________

When all the paperwork was done, they went back to the car which had been washed and tuned, made ready to drive off the lot, Damon tossed the keys at Amy’s chest with a smile, still continuing the charade of his fake accent and their “pretend” relationship. “Go on and show us how it’s done. I still can’t figure out how you Yanks drive on the right side of a perfectly good road.”

Once he closed the passenger’s side door behind himself, Damon erupted in genuine laughter, grasping Amy’s shoulder playfully when she joined him in the car.

“Did you see how that old couple looked at us? They really thought I was fucking you--ha ha! Crazy right?” Damon joked, rocking in his chair with laughter, “people will believe anything if you commit to it. That salesman charged me below Blue Book, he was so thrown off by that spectacle! You were great Amy, just really fantastic. Now burn rubber out of here, see if you can get to sixty in under four seconds, if you can’t we’ll take it back.”
__________________

Amy had scarcely pulled away before Damon lit up a tulip shaped joint and began smoking, blowing the smoke discreetly out of the passenger’s side window each time he exhaled.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Damon asked, holding the joint up toward Amy’s face, “I just can’t stand that new car smell… it’s too… artificial.”

Damon continued to smoke until they reached the mall, where he had to get busy with his own business. He guided Amy to park outside of the Best Buy, where the bulk of his second round of purchases would take place. A Macbook Pro with the Video Editing suite, an ultra HD digital handheld with motion stabilizers, a high-powered LED ring-light that was compatible with his camera, portable hard drives and a smartphone… the list went on in his mind as he held the still burning joint towards Amy.

“Do you want some? Shopping’s always more fun when you’re high. So is… well, nevermind. You’re too young for that,” Damon chuckled over the smoke in his lungs, “I really appreciate you helping me out in there, so while I’m getting the things that I need, you pick out whatever you want. A new phone, new computer, video game consoles--anything your sweet little heart desires and Daddy Damon will get it for you. Sound good, Kitten?”

As they climbed into the car with her in the driver's seat, Amy’s body felt raw, exposed, like a frayed nerve crackling through her skin, her muscles… and throbbing inside her… Damon still spoke to the salesman, and she still felt herself in a simmering blur, almost a passenger in the moment. Had… he… touched her? Somehow she felt he had, that the salesperson had seen them in some sort of compromised position. It was real enough to make her blush hotly, but as she tried to remember...

“Did you see how that old couple looked at us? They really thought I was fucking you--ha ha! Crazy right?”

She smiled brightly, loving seeing him so happy. She hadn’t seen the couple, but she loved that she had been able to make him smile like this. “Crazy!” she agreed happily. He went on to tell her what an amazing job she had done, and she beamed at him, feeling his hand on her and trembling softly. She felt so grown up with him, like he really SAW her. When he told her to drive his new car, she felt elated, and did as he told her, starting the car feeling it rumble beneath them, peeling out of the dealership, her head swirling with excitement at the feeling of power.

She didn’t think about her car still sitting at the lot. She just throbbed with the sensation of his hand still on her.

__________________



“What do you think of this one, fucktoy?”

“It’s…. It’s good, mistress, but… I don’t… I don’t know….

Crack.

“*sobbing*”

“Say you’re sorry, whore.”

“I’m… I’m…. I’m sorry, mistress.”

“Good. Now I have another one for you”

__________________



Amy panted desperately as they pulled into a parking place in the far end of the lot at the mall. She usually parked much closer to the entrance, or in the parking garage, but somehow she knew that wasn’t correct for today. She and Damon were in a vast empty area, with no one nearby for what seemed like miles. She looked at him and the way he sexily smoked his marijuana next to her. She had never been near anyone doing drugs before, had always thought it was beneath her, but when he watched him do it her body longed for some. The smoke filled the new car, and she could feel it creeping inside her, making her slowly feel like her insides were melting.

“Do you want some?"

She blinked, looking up at him “are, are you sure it’s okay?” she asked, her voice in a near whisper as she leaned toward him, her head against his shoulder, taking the joint from him.

“Shopping’s always more fun when you’re high.” He said as she took a tiny, carefully puff from the joint, coughing cutely. He didn’t move to take it back, so she tried again… “So is… well, nevermind. You’re too young for that.”

She blinked at what he said, but she was much too focused on her first time ever trying marijuana. She continued to make teeny little puffs, and making tiny little ‘eep’ sounds as she attempted to hold it in. She felt her body going slack against him, teetering on the brink of… something…

“I really appreciate you helping me out in there, so while I’m getting the things that I need, you pick out whatever you want.”

She looked up at him, her head a blur, her eyes a little unfocused, her long slender body draped from the driver's seat against him “What… what do you mean?”

“A new phone, new computer, video game consoles--anything your sweet little heart desires and Daddy Damon will get it for you. Sound good, Kitten?”

She exhaled, a small bit of smoke rolling from inside her tiny lungs, smiling up at him. “Yes daddy, thank you daddy….” she said, nuzzling her chin into his arm… She didn’t quite understand why calling him daddy felt so right, but there was no question in it… and it made him smile at her, so she immediately loved it. “I… I don’t know, what do you think I should ask for?” She said. He had already bought the car she longed for, what else could she possibly want but to just be with him?

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Sarah closed the front door behind her. Consuela’s van was gone, and she had the house to herself again. She clutched her bags from the store, biting her lip at the knowledge of everything she had brought home… and everything she had done to get them. She walked carefully, holding the small plug inside her, feeling the tenderness of the flesh of her round bottom where she had been whipped… she went back to the bedroom, shucking off her clothes onto the floor, and staring at her naked body with her hair falling disheveled over her face.

It was early afternoon. John would be home for dinner at some point… he would be expecting her to have made something for him. He would want her to start thinking about it now…

She fell back into the bed, lifting her legs, reaching between them, finding her trembling little cunt. She would wear the lingerie for Damon tonight. He would judge her. She shivered at the thought. She hoped he liked what he saw…

Damon wrapped his muscular arm around Amy’s shoulders as she draped herself across him, laying his stubbly cheek against her silken hair. He could smell her shampoo, her subtle perfume… He wanted her, wanted to take her right then and there in the car, bury his cock into her tight inexperienced pussy and dump his balls until they were empty. He took the joint back from her fingers and took a deep drag, needing to calm himself--to stay mindful of the larger plan.

“Well, I hear that those new cell phones are pretty advanced… plus, it might be good for a growing, mature young woman like yourself to have a data plan that doesn’t send transcripts of your text history to your father each month,” Damon spoke softly, letting his voice resonate from his chest as he breathed out smoke and stubbed out the joint in the ash-tray under the dash, “I need a new laptop, so if you could help me pick out the best kind, I don’t see why I shouldn’t pick up two. Also, I hear that those new game consoles are pretty impressive… what is it, Playstation… four now? You’re welcome to one of those if you want it. Plus any CDs or DVDs that you don’t have, I’d be glad to pick up for you.”

With that, Damon placed a small, delicate kiss on the top of Amy’s head and opened his door. He waited for Amy to join him, crouching down to encourage her to jump up onto his back for a piggyback ride into the electronics store.

The shopping went smoothly, with more than a little help from the staff of the electronics store. Before long, the brand new Audi was loaded up with a small fortune’s worth of electronics and Damon was increasingly playful and flirty with Amy as the price tag on their shopping spree rose higher and higher. The pet name ‘Kitten,’ seemed to have stuck by now and Damon was ‘Daddy’ as far as anyone in the electronics store could tell--though the nature of their interactions were decidedly more intimate than an average father/daughter couple. Once everything was packed into the car, Damon passed Amy the keys again.

“We’ve got just one last stop, Kitten. Then we’ll get you back home to your folks in time for dinner.”

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John adjusted himself for what felt like the millionth time as he pulled into his driveway. He’d been hasty putting himself away after his afternoon tryst with Angela and now that their mixed juices were drying on his cock and boxer shorts he was itching like mad. He decided that he’d need a shower before dinner to resolve the issue. Most of his day had been spent easing concerns of his colleagues who were all growing increasingly skittish about the federal inquest into his dealings with the Senate Ways and Means Committee, but John felt confident that nothing would come of the probe.

The Senator’s brow knit slightly as he noticed the absence of Amy’s car in the driveway, it seemed slightly odd, but not unheard of. She was probably out with friends or something of the sort, he’d find out more from Sarah. As John’s key turned in the lock, he made his way inside his lavish home, calling out for his wife.

“Sarah, honey? I’m home,” John called up the stairs, kicking off his shoes and loosening his necktie, before readjusting his cock again, “did Amy go out with her friends again? She better be back in time for dinner. Speaking of which, what are we having?”

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The Adult Boutique required a slight detour on the ride back to the dealership to retrieve Amy’s car, into what most would have called “the bad part of town.” D.C.’s poverty epidemic wasn’t just a topic for political discourse on this side of town as several homeless people were gathered in the alley that bordered the so-called Boutique. Damon was sure to hold Amy’s hand and set his car alarm as they went inside.

The cashier was a rough looking young man with purple hair, a half dozen visible piercings on his face and half-dollar sized gauges in his ears. It was obvious that he was going for the “Punk Rock” aesthetic. Damon greeted him with a nod and a smile, wheeling one of only a few carts into the aisles.

“I just need to pick up a few things, Kitten. It shouldn’t take too long,” Damon remarked, his hand moving to the small of Amy’s back, “I know this probably isn’t your kind of place, but if you see anything you want, just let me know.”

“Can I help you two?” the cashier asked, leaning over the elevated counter that allowed him to keep eyes on the whole store to prevent deadbeats from jacking off in the aisles, making little attempt to disguise his lascivious looks at Amy’s body.

“Yes actually, I’m going to need delivery on a few larger pieces to my home,” Damon answered, moving over to the counter, “a sybian, for one… an upright bondage cross, a roof-mounted sex swing and a floor-mounting piston system. Do you have order forms for those?”

As Damon was listing off the things that he needed to the cashier in his torn Cramps shirt, a reflection caught the corner of his eye. Near the back of the shop, on a clear plastic mannequin with a featureless face was a shiny, black latex minidress, low cut and barely long enough to cover the wearer’s ass cheeks. Damon judged it to be about Amy’s size, since it was meant to be worn skin-tight.

“Hey Kitten,” Damon whispered, close to Amy’s ear, “you should go try that on. I bet you’d look sexy enough to melt steel in it. Also, I think this cashier has a thing for you. Let’s see if you can get us another discount, huh?”

Damon gave Amy’s round ass a playful swat, directing her back toward the dress and the graffiti scrawled changing rooms. It was then that the cashier interrupted their moment, reaching across the counter with a pair of white, stay-up, fishnet stockings with lace fringes around the tops.

“Um, miss…” the cashier interrupted, “try these, too. I think that they’d look great on you.”

Damon gave the cashier a sideways look before sending Amy off with the stockings and going back to the cashier. “In addition to those delivery items, I’m going to need about twenty feet of silk-cord rope in white, metal nipple clamps, three sizes of butt plugs, a Rabbit vibrator, leather wrist and ankle cuffs, ball gag, inflatable pussy plug, ring gag, mattress mounts for restraints, a dozen or so vibrating pills…”

The list went on and on, while the cashier stood on his toes, trying to catch a glimpse of Amy changing.