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The Right Side of the Hill

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The Right Side of the Hill (c) 2005 by Penelope Street

There it was again. For the fourth consecutive week the same ad had appeared in the personals section of The Scene, a local rag dedicated to the seedier edge of society. I routinely perused the personals. Once in a while, I stumbled upon an arousing one. Most often though, I found the racy little blurbs amusing instead of exciting.

I had initially thought the same of this one:


SWF, 53

Looking for a master. I would like to be a slave. A sex slave. I expect to be disciplined if I do not please my master.


That was the first week. The next week it was still there, but had moved down as the newer ads appeared above it. By then, it wasn't really funny anymore. Like most men, I suppose, the idea of having a slave girl as a sexual toy had its appeal. But I still shook my head; convinced that sometime well before fifty women ceased being sensual and turned into old ladies.

When the third week arrived, I even considered not picking up the free publication. The thought that the poor woman was out there, being ignored by everyone, had begun to trouble me. And that it troubled me, well, that troubled me even more.

I hoped I wouldn't see the ad the fourth week, but it was there anyway, at the bottom of the list. It was far from funny at that point.

My eyes dropped as these thoughts crossed my mind. I felt guilty for judging this anonymous person so, but I couldn't shake the vision from my head: a grey-haired woman on her knees in a collar, looking more like a pallid raisin than an object of desire.

I brought my index finger to my right ear, scouring the furrows of more grime than I expected to encounter. What does she really look like? I wondered. And why does it matter?

I snorted my amusement, realizing no man had ever found an answer to that latter question, and none ever would. But the first question, it had an answer. Somewhere. Yes, I mused with a nod. What an interesting question. She's old enough to be your mother. What makes her think she's still got it?

In spite of my giving the issue due consideration, it was still a question without an answer as my day ended. Nothing had changed in that regard when I arose the next morning. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I decided the poor old woman deserved at least one response for her troubles. I wandered to my computer and created a new e-mail address. Five minutes later I was back on my bed, phone in my shaking hand, dialing the toll number on the back of the rag.

I flipped back through the pages of the publication rapidly as the line rang, searching for the ad. I need not have hurried, there was a slow voice and a list of options- just to drive the price up, I'm sure. Several minutes later at two bucks per, I finally reached the woman's messaging inbox.

"Hi. I'm Benjamin. I'm interested in seeing you. And, uh, learning more about you. You can e-mail me at swf53lover at . . . Look forward to hearing from you. Bye."

Slamming the receiver down, I wondered if that was the worst ten dollars I had ever spent. Then I considered the concession prices at any major sporting event and decided it couldn't possibly be.

As the day passed, I caught myself checking my dedicated e-mail address so often I lost track of the number of times. The sun had long departed and a good portion of my hope with it when my heart skipped a beat, maybe two; my inbox was no longer empty!

I passed a large breath before I moved my quivering fingers to my mouse and opened the message.


Dear SWF53Lover,

What a clever name. I'm flattered. You've already scored more points than the rest of the applicants combined. But what makes you think yourself worthy to be my master?

Yours, *maybe*,

SWF 53


I glanced to the reply address and smiled: swf53. Over the next several hours, I read the brief message over and over again, trying with each pass to pluck new information from the words. The confident, almost cocky, reply was not at all what I had anticipated from an aspiring submissive.

Pacing trails in the carpet of my apartment, I mulled over the possible replies. What makes me think I'm worthy? How dare you take that tone with me, you worthless slut! You'll be lucky...

No, I decided, shaking my head. She doesn't need luck. She has lots of interest. Lots more than I imagined. That won't do. No. Something else, but what? Dearest Lady, Here are my list of qualifications...

A half-snort, half-chortle terminated that overly pretentious option. I leaned back in my chair and brought my index finger to graze my lower lip. With a smile I surged forward. A second later my fingers were bouncing along the keyboard:


Dear SWF53,

I have what you want.



With a smile I proofread the single sentence, pressed the 'send' button, and then went to bed. Nine and a half hours of sound sleep later I awoke to find the reply waiting:


Dear Ben,

Do you have what I want? Perhaps we should find out. Can you be at Martin's Cafe tomorrow, say 6:30? Tell the hostess you are there to meet Alexandra.



I leaned back in my chair, sighed, and read the message again. Who was this alleged submissive that saw fit to question my worthiness and then give me directions? I decided whoever she was; she must be a very interesting woman indeed. I wanted to know more. Had she ever been married? If not, why not? If so, what had happened? Did she have children? Did her marriage fail due to this bondage fetish?

My eyes narrowed. Or does she seek a slave? My head began to move in a slow nod as I pondered the likelihood. Am I being reeled in here like some pathetic trout after a shiny new lure? Or, in this case, perhaps a shiny old lure?

I knew there was only one way to find out; and I would find out, if nothing else. I looked again to the message still upon my computer screen. Martin's Cafe? I clamped my lips tight as my head moved in a shallow but steady bob. Pretty ritzy place. Bet she expects me to pay. This better not be some old broad's clever scheme to get a free dinner date.

* * *

Regardless of the possibilities of failure, and embarrassment, the appointed hour found me at the hostess's podium of Martin's.

"I'm here to meet someone; her name is Alexandra."

"Would you be Benjamin?"

I started to say, "Yes," but found my mouth dry. I swallowed and nodded instead.

The young lady smiled. "Right this way, sir." She turned and led me into a side room, along the row of booths adjacent to the wall until she reached the last such enclosure.

"Here you go, sir."

I inhaled a sharp gasp as I beheld the siren that awaited me. She was anything but what I expected: young, maybe thirty; lovely raven colored tresses flowing straight onto a crimson dress that she filled to perfection. The black of her hair and the emerald of her eyes contrasted with the pallor of her flesh in the most captivating and classy of fashions.

Could the ad possibly have read 5'3 instead of 53? I wondered, searching my memory. Yes, that would be about the right height. Still, this can't be her? She's too pretty. Or maybe she really is looking for a slave. Wow. I could be that! Yes, I could lick her pussy, her foot, whatever. Hell, I could lick her anywhere, if that's what she...


I shuddered as I snapped from my stupor. "Yes. Alexandra?"

The brunette smiled. "Call me Alex."

"I'm sorry," I offered. "I didn't mean to stare. It's just I was expecting someone..."


My head moved in a brisk nod. "Yes. Not that I'm disappointed!"

"Not yet anyway." The woman laughed through a smile and motioned across the table. "Do have a seat."

How could I ever be disappointed in you? I wondered, sliding into the booth.

Alexandra leaned across the table, asking in a soft, clear voice, "So you are in the market for a slave?"

"Yes," I nodded, scarcely willing to believe such a goddess would be interested in serving an admittedly average guy like myself.

"I'm here on behalf of my mother," the woman continued.

In that instant it was as though the pressure in the room had been halved, sucking the air from my lungs. I tongued my lips and tried not to appear shocked, to little avail.

"Disappointed yet?"

I moved my head in a brisk, if dishonest, shake. "No."

Alex smiled. "Good. Mother asked me to meet all her prospective masters and choose one for her. She doesn't believe it would be a proper start to the relationship if she were to have any say in who her new master is."

"I see." I nodded, admitting even to myself there was some twisted logic to the woman's words. Still, in the back of my mind, I refused to surrender all hope that the mother angle might be just a ruse.

"Can I get you a drink, sir?"

I jumped, snapping my gaze to the waitress that had appeared from nowhere. "Uh, yes, please," I stammered. "Tea will be fine, thank you."

"I'll be right back with that and to take your order," the young lady declared before she turned to depart.

Alexandra winked at me as I looked back across the table. "Please and Thank you? Not what I expected from an aspiring master."

My gaze wavered. My lips formed a circular channel for my extended exhale as I considered what might be the best response. "Yes," I said after a few seconds, "but then the waitress isn't my slave, is she?"

Alex flashed a quick smile. "No, she isn't." With that, she flipped open a small, well-worn, notepad. "Now let's get down to business, shall we?"

I felt my throat flex, passing another dry swallow. "Yes, let's."

The brunette's smile was gone as she looked up from her notes. "Do you expect my mother to live with you as a full time slave?"

My eyes wandered for a moment or two before I nodded "Yes, I suppose a slave should live with her master." I tried not to laugh as I considered how truly ludicrous my words sounded.

"And what would be her duties?"

"Why, whatever I had in mind, of course." I smiled at what I thought was a clever answer for all of the half-second it took me to notice my companion's expression was unchanged.

"Such as?"

I tilted my head to the right before responding, "You know, cleaning, cooking..."

"What about sex?"

I had only anticipated meeting an older woman, satisfying my curiosity and wishing her the best in her search for, well, for what ever she was seeking. My mouth fell as I grasped the woman intended this meeting to be an interview of sorts, and a prying one at that. Still, this was not the first time I had been forced to think on my feet when tossed a proverbial curve.

"Yes, that too," I affirmed with a nod.

Alex's laser-like green orbs remained steady as she tilted the head that contained them. I felt as those she was somehow peering into my very soul. "Her duties must include sex."

"The ad did mention that," I noted with some haste.

"I want to be clear. It is a non-negotiable issue. She is to be more than a maid. And I'm not talking once per month. You must use her sexually at least once daily."

"I see." My head move in a far shallower, slower nod, wondering if the mother might be so hideous that no one wanted her. Looking across at her daughter, that seemed most unlikely. But that's only if Alex is her daughter, I reminded myself.

"Very good," Alexandra continued. "Now, can you tell me..." She stopped and looked abruptly away from me as the waitress returned. "We'd like two filets, medium-rare. Fresh vegetables and the soup of the day, please."

The waitress gave a curt nod. "Very good, ma'am. Anything else?"

"No." Alex snapped her focus back as our server departed. "Where were we? Oh, yes; elaborate please on exactly what sexual duties you envision my mother performing."

I tongued my lips. My common sense begged me to simply withdraw my alleged interest. The rest of me, however, was more intrigued than ever. "Well, that would, uh, depend...

"Pretend time stops," Alex interjected, "for everyone but me and you. The entire world is in some sort of stasis and I'm your slave for the next half-hour. I'll do whatever you want. Even I won't remember it. What would you have me do?"

"Right now?" I queried.

"Right now."

This question was even more vexing. Did she really expect me to tell her the truth? I hoped she did. "Blowjob," I said. "While I eat my steak."

"Your steak isn't here yet."

"You know what I mean."

"I suppose I do," Alex agreed. "Do I have to swallow?"

I tongued my lips, hoping this was anything but a hypothetical quiz. "Sure."

"So mother will have to as well?"

I shifted in my seat, trying to adjust in an inconspicuous manner the physical manifestations of my growing interest. "Yes, of course."

"How often?"

"Most every day. Probably twice even."

"Excellent," Alex hissed through a smile. "That would take care of the once per day sex requirement?"

"I suppose."

"Will you ever fuck her normally?"


"Will you expect her to clean your cock for you after you fill her pussy?"

My eyebrows leapt into my forehead as I leaned an inch or two closer to my companion. "What, uh, you mean, well, with her mouth?"

"Of course."

My eyes dropped a few degrees to the ruby lips that managed to verbalize such base inquiries in the most matter-of-fact tones. I could feel the force of my own heartbeat as my eyes lingered on my companion's mouth. "I hadn't thought about that, but now that you've brought it up, the idea does have its appeal."

"What about anal sex?"

"Excuse me?" I snapped. It was but a reflex; she had spoken clearly enough.

"Are you going to butt-fuck her too?"

I snapped my head over my shoulder, wondering who might be in the next booth and how far my companion's voice could carry. Settling back into my seat and directing my attention again across the table, I considered the woman's question. Would I? I've always been curious. If she's really my slave, why wouldn't I?

I sent a single massive exhale through my pursed lips before I replied, "Yes. I would do that. At least once, just to see if I like it."

Alex's eyebrows bounced upward. "If? So you haven't done this before?"

"No." I admitted with a quick shake of my head.

"Good. Neither has she. What about ass to mouth?"

"What?" I gasped.

"Will you expect mother to suck your cock straight from her ass, or clean it afterward, like you said you would after you fucked her pussy?"

I dropped my brow and shifted in my seat, the flesh of my nose twisting in disgust as I recoiled. "No," I concluded, my head pivoting in a trio of brisk shivers. "That's just- well, wrong."

For the first time since our greeting, the corners of Alex's mouth floated upward, but just. "Does the same go for watersports?"

"You mean, uh, urination?"

"That's right," Alex said. "Pissing. On her. Or in her. Is that part of her duties?"




"Does she have to lick your asshole?"

My spine stiffened. "No!"

Alexandra leaned across the table. "Just so we are clear," she began in a stern whisper, "you are correct; none of that is sex so far as my mother is concerned. I haven't even asked her about that sort of sick shit and I never will. I already know it's too far; she'd never enjoy that. She wants to be a concubine, not a fucking toilet. You even try any of that perverted crap on her and I'll see you find out what it's like to be a shit-siphoning sissy slave. That's a promise, young man."

I shivered, even though I did not fully understand the full meaning of the threat. I was rather certain I really didn't want to. "Worry not," I assured. "We are of a mind on this matter."

"Good. Will you make her have sex with other men?"

I paused to consider the issue, my eyes wandering as I deliberated. "I hadn't thought about it," I admitted several seconds later. "Is that also not allowed?"

"I don't think she would mind. She might even be flattered. However, you would be responsible for her safety. That includes safe sex."

"I see." My head began to bob. "I really don't see myself renting her out or anything."

"Whatever you do, you will be responsible for all aspects of her safety. If something happens to her, something worse is happening to you. Are we clear?"

"Sure. We're clear."

Alexandra withdrew to her normal sitting position and wiggled her shoulders. Her dress dropped a bit and my eyes followed its descent as another fraction of an inch of cleavage sprang into view. "Tell me about yourself," she demanded.

My eyes snapped back to her face. "Well," I began, shifting again in my seat. "I'm Ben..."

Alex stiffened, then held aloft her index finger. I followed her gaze to the waitress arriving with our soup. As soon as the help was gone, my companion stared back at me. "Ok. Go on."

"I'm Benjamin Miller, attorney. I'm twenty-four, I grad..."

"A lawyer?"


"Is that not a fairly stable profession?"

"I suppose. Why?"

"You're so much younger than anyone else that has responded. What does a young lawyer want with a fifty year old slave?"

I chewed my lower lips as I asked myself the same question. "Entry level lawyers put in tons of hours. I don't have time for anything resembling a real relationship."

"That's it? Convenience?"

"Well, If she looks anything like you, what young lawyer wouldn't want her?"

I hoped the implied compliment would draw at least a grin, but Alex's expression was unchanged. "So it's about appearance and convenience?"

I closed my eyes and counted to three before I responded. "I'm not sure what it's about," I confessed, forcing my eyes to hers. "I've asked myself the same question and I can't say what it is about this situation I find so intriguing."

To my surprise, Alex flashed the slightest of grins. "Do you like being a lawyer?"

I shook my head. "Not really."

"Then why'd you become one?"

"Oh," I began with a shrug, "I always loved courtroom dramas. I had this grand vision of myself saving innocent men from the gallows and the like. It didn't turn out that way, and I doubt it ever will."

"What makes you say that?"

I dropped my brow as I considered how much I should share. "When you're looking for work there are too many lawyers, but as soon as you land a position, there aren't enough. So I work fifty to sixty hours a week, yet I don't know that I could find a better position even if I have time to look for one.

"Still, You think I'd be doing some good, right? But I work for a firm that defends corporations in workman's compensation cases. So guess what I spend my precious time doing? Combing volumes of legal gibberish seeking loopholes so that huge companies don't have to fork over the money some poor bastard needs.

"That might not be so bad if we were specifically trying to avoid paying the fraudulent claims, but we fight them all, tooth and nail. It's not about justice; it's about money. I guess that's the way the alleged legal system has always worked. I just didn't realize it until I was part of it."

"So why are you part of it?" Alex queried.

"Because I've four years of college and a debt to go with it."

Alex nodded. "How much debt?"

I cocked my head. "About 40K."

"Forty thousand?" Alexandra gasped. "Where did you go to school?"

"Mitchell Hawthorne."

The brunette pursed her lips. Her brow leapt upward. "Oh. Very prestigious. I'm impressed. Your family is rich then?"

"Hardly, or I wouldn't have such a debt."

"So you're rather stuck?"

"Yeah," I grunted. "I've pretty much screwed myself. I think I'd have been happier delivering pizzas. Hell, come to think of it, I was"

Alex nodded. "I see. Speaking of screwed, you mentioned you haven't had anal sex. Surely you're not still a virgin?"


The woman grinned. "If I were a fan of Freud, I'd think you protested too quick."

"Well, you're not," I insisted. "And neither am I."

"Which? Freudian or a virgin."

"Either. Or neither."

Alex's grin widened into a smile. "Ok, if you aren't a virgin, tell me about your other girlfriends. Start with the most important."

"Brenda." I uttered the name as a hiss. My eyes fell to the dark wood of the table. Where was Brenda now? I wondered. Married? Probably. A girl like...

"And?" Alex prompted.

"Oh, " I started. "Brenda was the first girl I ever considered marrying. The only one so far. We got along ok, I guess; I mean, I loved her and all. I thought she felt the same way." I paused to breathe, pinching the center of my lower lips as I exhaled.

"So why aren't you married?" Alex pressed.

I issued a sharp snort. "She said I wasn't assertive enough."

Alex grinned. "She said that?"


"So Brenda said you weren't assertive enough for a normal relationship and you still think you can make a good master for a slave?"

"That was a long time ago."

"How long?"

"Two years."

"Oh," Alex started, her sarcasm unbridled in spite of her soft tone. "That's practically ages."

"I've matured a lot in two years!"

"Matured, perhaps," Alex said. "But that doesn't mean you're dominant."

"You're right," I snapped. "I'm not that dominant. I'd like to be, but I'm not. I may never be. Am I disqualified? Can I finish my soup before my steak arrives?"

To my surprise, Alex issued a demure smile. "Yes, let's eat the soup before it chills."

And we did. I never had a more awkward meal. Every time I looked up her emerald beacons were locked on my face. She kept that same wide grin, even when her lips parted to accept a spoon and, later, a fork.

I didn't say a word as we ate, determined to simply get the check, issue a polite farewell, and depart. Sure, I was still curious about what sort of woman was behind the ad, but not so curious as to allow myself to be drilled any longer.

"That was good," Alex declared some minutes later. Her fork landed on her plate with a clink. Her chest surged with a breath of satisfaction. Slumping against the back of the booth, the woman turned her attention from her plate to me. "Where were we?"

I put my utensils down as well, though I would normally have eaten more. "I think I was about to say, 'Thanks, but no thanks.' "

Alexandra stiffened at once. Her smile vanished as she bolted upright. "Really? Why?"

I shook my head. "This is all just too weird."

Alex cocked her head. Her brow fell. "You answered an ad for a sex slave and you were expecting what, normal?"

"I wasn't expecting you."


"Yes," I began. "What kind of daughter meets strangers and interviews them regarding butt-fucking her mother?"

Alex's eyes narrowed. "The kind of daughter that has a mother that wants to be butt-fucked by a stranger. The kind of daughter that loves her mother enough to help her get what she wants no matter how fucking weird it is. That's who!"

My eyes fell to what remained of my meal as I considered her words. I passed a breath and then licked my lips before I could bring my gaze up again. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Accepted. Are you really not interested or shall we continue?"

Three breaths I took to reply, "Ok. I guess I'm still interested."

Alexandra's smile returned. "Good. I believe the only thing we did not cover in the ad yet was discipline. What did you have in mind?"


"The ad says she expects discipline when she does not please you. What do you have in mind?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. She's a bit old for a time-out, don't you think?"

Alex's smiled broadened. "That's the best answer I've heard yet. You'd be surprised how many applicants think discipline starts with a nipple and a soldering iron."

I closed my eyes and shivered.

"What my mother needs, and wants, is a really good spanking," Alexandra continued. "My grandfather was a strict disciplinarian. Spanked her a lot, so much that she equates that act with affection. She thought my father should have spanked me more, but he was a kind man and for that I am thankful. But he was too gentle a man to ever make my mother happy, as it turns out."

"What happened?" I asked. "Between them, I mean."

Alex looked away for a few seconds, twirling a finger within the lower reaches of her tresses, before returning her gaze to me. "I guess she didn't think he loved her and that was eventually contagious. So by the time I was an adult he felt the same way. He left her two years ago for his secretary. I understand why he did it, but Mom's never had to take care of herself. She doesn't even know how to write a check, not that she has any money."

Alex leaned forward, her bosom pressed against the edge of the table. "That's why it has to be a 24/6 relationship. If I select you, you will take care of her." She paused to wink. "Of course, she'll be taking care of you too. I promise."

"24/6?" I queried.

"That's right. She's still my mother and I want her on Sundays."

I chuckled. "Ok. I guess that would be fair."

"Yes, it would be. But you must have some questions?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Too many, I think."

"Don't you want to know what she looks like?"

I shrugged. "Appearance isn't the most important thing to me. Besides, if you're her daughter, I doubt I would have much to worry about in that regard."

Alex smiled. "Thank you. You're right there. She does look a lot like me, only better."

I cocked my head, narrowing the eye nearest to the woman. "That seems a bit hard to believe considering how gorgeous you are."

"Beauty is a subjective thing. If you like smaller boobs, you might prefer me. Whatever your tastes, though, I can assure you that she is no dog; or whale."

"When do I get to see her?"

"I can bring a picture if we have a follow-up interview," Alexandra replied. "You would not actually meet her until I brought her to you and handed you the leash."

I ran my tongue over my gums and teeth. "I see. What do you mean by a follow-up interview?"

"Well," Alex began, "I have two more applicants to meet over the next few days, so I wouldn't get back to you before Friday at the earliest. But I'd probably sleep on it over the weekend..."

"Alright," I interjected. "Monday's fine."

"Don't you have any other questions?"

"I have too many," I repeated. "But I can probably pair down the list by Monday, if we decide a second meeting is in order."

Alex issued a servant's nod. "So far, I'd have to rate you as a leading candidate."

"Why? How many respondents have you met?"



"Yes," Alex said. "Per week. More really. Those are only the ones that I decide to meet. I probably get three times that many messages."

My throat flexed as I attempted to swallow. "I see. How many of those ever rated a second interview."

"So far? None."

"Well," I said. "Thanks for that vote of confidence for what it's worth."

"You are still interested then?"

"To be honest, I'm probably more interested now than I was when I arrived."

Alex cocked her head as her brows bounced into her forehead. "Really? Well, that's good. Shall I e-mail you then, regarding Monday?"

"Sure, please do."

"Excellent." With that Alexandra stood and started to gather her things.

I glanced about the table, realizing the waitress had not brought the bill. "I can get the tab," I offered.

Alex smiled. "I know you can. But I have an account. You can get the tip though, if it'd make you feel better. Hope to see you again."

"Yeah," I nodded in something of a hurry. "Hope to see you again too." By the time I fished a twenty out of my wallet and tossed it on the table, the lady was gone.

* * *

I spent the better part of the following week preoccupied with an older woman I had never even seen and might never see. The entire idea seemed so preposterous, so utterly bizarre, yet even more tempting. My work suffered and I got chewed out twice. I put in overtime, unpaid of course, on Saturday.

I wasn't expecting any response until Monday, but I checked first thing Sunday morning and was surprised to find:


Dear Benjamin,

I think you do have everything my mother wants. Shall we meet again to confirm what we discussed with the prospect of reaching an agreement regarding the issue? I can be at Martin's again tonight. Same time, same table. Reply before 5 PM if you wish to meet.



I brought my index and middle fingers to my lower lip as I considered the message. I looked around my modest apartment. It was a classic bachelor's pad. Do I really want some old woman here? I asked myself. I was surprised at the speed at which I arrived at my answer, more than the answer itself.

Springing forward, my fingers found to the keyboard. I sent a single word in reply: Yes.

* * *

My hand quaked as I reached for the door to the restaurant. What the hell are you doing? I wondered as I threw open the door and walked inside. Relax, I counseled myself. It's not like you're signing a contract, and you do get to see a picture this time. You can still back out.

"Ben," Alex began with a smile. "Good to see you again."

"Same here," I said, once more taking my seat across from her. My eyes fell to the dinner already on the table.

"I already ordered," Alex explained. "Didn't care to be interrupted by the waitress like last time. Shall we eat first and talk business afterward?"

"Sure," I agreed with a nod.

Thus we ate amid a surreal amiability, chatting about everything except Alexandra's mother. A quarter-hour later, my companion again pushed her plate away from her before I was quite finished with mine.

"That was excellent," she noted. "Do let me know when you are finished."

I placed my utensils on my plate. "Close enough."

"Very well, then," Alexandra began. "I'd like to offer you the position as my mothers owner."

I cocked my head. "The position?"

Alex nodded with a wide grin. "Yes. You will of course resign from your current position."


"Your lawyer job; you must quit."

My jaw fell.

Alex raised her eyebrows. "Is there a problem with that? I thought you hated your job."

"I do, but it's still a job."

Alex head moved in a brisk nod. "Of course it is. I'm simply offering you a different one. You will receive an allowance in an amount equal to your present salary, with reasonable annual raises."

"I didn't realize..." I began, then paused, bringing my fingertips to my scalp and scratching. "I never thought of this business with your mother as a, uh, a job."

"You said you wanted a full time slave, right?"


"Well, my mother deserves a full time master. That makes it a job for each of you. Now are you ready to hear the particulars of the position?"

I gave my surroundings a bit more scrutiny, seeking possible locations for hidden cameras or one of the Funt clan. "Sure," I said, directing my focus back across the table. "What did you have in mind?"

"As I said before, this is a full time job, 24/6. You get Sunday's off too, of course. Where do you live now?"

"Thirteen-fifteen Bartholomew, number eight-B."

"An apartment?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"I see. I think you'll find my mother's house far more comfortable quarters. I know she will."


"You'll need to move in with my mother."

"But, I have a lease?"

"Of course," Alexandra said. "But I'll take care of that, and your student loan too."


"I'll buy you out of the lease and pay off your loan. Consider it a signing bonus."

"So, you're offering to set me up as, uh, your mother's gigolo?"

"No!" Alex snapped. "You must treat her as your whore, never the other way around!"

I tongued my lips once as my gaze wandered. "Forgive me, this just isn't what I expected."

"I know." Alex's smile returned. "It's even better, isn't it?"

"I thought your mother didn't have any money? How is it she has a house?"

"She doesn't have the money," Alexandra explained. "I do. You see, I lied about my father. He didn't leave my mother. He never would have, and neither would she. He died two years ago in an automobile accident."

My jaw fell and remained limp for a few seconds before I recovered to offer, "I'm sorry."

Alex nodded. "I'm sorry too. But that's not why we're here. You see, Dad had a ridiculously large life insurance policy, payable to me. He knew mother wouldn't have a clue what to do with it all, but I'd see she was taken care of. I doubt this is what he had in mind, but it is what she wants." My companion paused to sigh. "It's what she's always wanted."

"So you lied to me?"

"Damn right I did. I knew there'd be tons of deadbeats that would take the position if they knew it came with a generous allowance plus free room and board. I wanted you to be willing to accept my mother for free. And you were willing, weren't you?"

"I don't know, you see..."

"See!" Alex interrupted. "Yes, I forgot that. Silly me." She reached into her purse and produced what looked to be several postcards. As she slid them across the table, I noticed that they were photographs.

"This is mother," Alexandra explained. "That is what was worrying you, wasn't it?"

I looked at the woman in the pictures. She did resemble Alex, except obviously older. Still, the alleged mother didn't look anywhere near fifty. The shots weren't the clearest however, and there was no way for me to tell their age.

"Well?" My companion prompted. "What do you think?"

I looked back to Alex. "You're right, she does look like you. But that wasn't what concerned me."

"What is it then?"

"The job, the house," I started. "I didn't realize you were going to expect me to just drop everything and move in with your mother."

"You said you wanted her to live with you."

"Did I?" I glanced up and to my left, then directed my gaze back across the table. "I suppose I did. But I wasn't thinking to live with her."

Alexandra's smile turned to a scowl. "What are you quibbling about? You're stuck in a job you hate and all you have to show for it is a crummy little box to call home. And an empty box at that. Now, if you are no longer interested in the position, just say so."

I glanced again at the portraits before me on the table.

How hideous can this woman be if her daughter has to pay someone to fuck her? Then again, can she possibly be as hideous as putting in sixty hours a week for some obnoxious assholes that are making six figures for tacking their names to the documents I produce?

My focus leapt to my companion's green eyes. "How long do you expect me to own your mother?"

I saw her throat flex as she swallowed. "As long as you want to. I hope for the rest of her life. I realize in twenty years, she'll have lost a lot of her physical appeal, but I hope you'll still see fit to find her a suitable companion. If you develop an attraction for someone else, we'll understand. You're only human. We'll work that out when the time comes."

I moved my fingers to my jaw, realizing I had forgotten to shave as I ran my nails across my cheek. "Ok. I'm still interested. Forgive me for being startled by what you had in mind."

"Excellent!" Alex hissed. "Now here's what you need to do in the next two weeks. First, give notice at your job. Second, inform your apartment complex you are moving. Let me know whether it's cheaper to break the lease or just pay the remainder. I'll take care of it. Third, pack your things. I'll arrange for a truck on Saturday two weekends from now. Give us that day and the next morning to get your stuff squared away. You may come over Sunday afternoon.

"Last but not least, get an STD test. I'll want to see it, of course. You'll get another one in six months. If you aren't clean on both, I'll make Lorena Bobbit look like a Girl Scout. That goes for the future too."

I smiled. "You can quit threatening me. The one thing I can promise is that I'll never hurt your mother."

Alexandra flashed a full smile. "Oh, but you must hurt her. Just a little. It's part of the job."

"You know what I meant."

"Yes," Alex said with a nod. "And you know what I meant?"


"So we have a deal?"

Clasping my fingers together, I tucked my hands between my clenched thighs. "Yes, we have a deal."

* * *

I shall always cherish the look on Mr. Brunagger's face the next morning when I resigned. Of course, he wanted to know if I had found another position, could he possibly match their offer, etc. The expression when I told him I was going to be a gigolo was almost as good as the first, though I don't think he believed it.

As the days passed, I very much came to look forward to the impending arrangement, yet this nagging voice in the back of my mind kept saying, If it looks too good to be true, it probably is. And it did look far too good to be true. Or more like, she looked too good to be true.

By the time I was en route that Sunday afternoon, I had convinced myself that had to be it. The photos were likely ten, fifteen, maybe twenty years old; or not of the woman at all. Will Mr. Brunnager take me back? I wondered. Not likely; but Alex did pay the school debt, so I can at least be a little more picky about where I work next.

As I drove through the posh neighborhood, my suspicion increased. By the time I entered the circular drive my inclination was to continue driving straight out the other side, so convinced was I that I had been duped in some fashion. I'm still not certain I should not have done so had a Mercedes not been blocking the path.

I looked from the vehicle to the building. The house was an older one, from the period between the two world wars I would soon learn. I emerged from my car and stood transfixed, admiring the odd angles of its unique design, the weathered surface of the irregular stone, the vaulted roof cloaked by majestic trees, and the wandering vines of the clinging ivy. If asked, I could not have named one thing that made this structure so captivating, yet it had a combined elegance no newer home could match.

Alexandra opened the door before I had mounted the front steps. "Oh, do hurry," she said. "Mother has been so excited, but I want to give you a quick tour first before I leave." She motioned toward the side of the house. "Oh. Did you notice the branch of the drive that goes out back? That's where the garage is. Now over there is the..."

My hostess spent the next quarter-hour in a flurry of chatter, acquainting me with both the layout of the home and its history.

Well," Alexandra concluded my orientation with a massive sigh. "Any questions?"

I smiled as I watched the woman's breasts expand and contract as she replenished the oxygen in the lungs she seemed not to have used for her fifteen-minute oration.

"Yes, one," I replied.


"Where's my slave girl?"

Alex returned my smile. "What say make yourself comfortable in the parlor and I'll go get her!"

I nodded, then made my way to the designated room. I found I was anything but comfortable as I waited. Doubts rumbled through my head as I wondered how sexy any fifty-year-old could be. My anxiety regarding the woman's appearance rose with the sounds of the footsteps that foretold of the pair's arrival.

I inhaled and kept a breath as Alexandra made her way into the parlor, leading on a leash another brunette. The trailing woman wore a classic French maid's outfit, filling the garment in ample fashion. Her figure appeared trim beneath the black and white cloth and the legs that emerged beneath were taut and muscular.

My eyes shifted to the woman's face, where I expected to find sags and wrinkles. She had lines to be sure, and the texture of her skin was not so firm as a teenager's, but her visage was nothing short of magnificent. Her flesh was a radiant peachy hue, perfectly complimenting her jet-black tresses. A pair of trim brows hovered above eyes that were a green even deeper than those of her daughter. Her cheekbones were high, as one might expect in a noble lady. Even a substantial mole in the crease of her right cheek seemed a beauty mark on this exquisite woman.

For an instant, I wondered what she might have looked like in her prime. Then I realized this was her prime. With that revelation, my concern had shifted. Butterflies erupted to seize my gut as I wondered whether she found me worthy.

"Mr. Miller," Alex began, snapping me from my trance. "May I present your slave girl." With that, she extended her hand and the end of the leash therein.

I felt less than deserving as I accepted the fold of black leather. I followed the strap back to the woman. Our eyes met briefly, then we each looked away. I directed my gaze back to Alexandra and issued a polite nod. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," the younger woman replied. "I'm off now. I'll call tomorrow morning at nine to see how things went." Without looking back or waiting for a reply, she stalked to and out the door.

With a sigh meant to build my nerve, I looked back to the woman I had so longed to meet. Now that she was in my presence, I found her even more fascinating. Surely, I mused, a woman this beautiful and this wealthy can have anything she wants. Of course! I reasoned, chuckling at my own foolishness a second later. Anything she wants. And this is that anything!

I walked to stand before her and whispered, "Remove your uniform, slave girl."

The woman tilted her head and grinned, before offering a calm, deliberate, "No."

I stiffened at the unexpected insubordination. For a heartbeat I did not know how to respond; then from a distant corner of my memory, a dozen magic words rolled across my mind: I expect to be disciplined if I do not please my master.

I stepped forward, bringing our forms adjacent. My hand moved behind her back and then upward to her hair. Rolling my fingers within her tresses, I yanked her head back. She stiffened at once and issued a sharp whimper.

"What did you say!" I whispered, my face inches from hers.

She inhaled two sharp breaths in rapid succession. I could not decide if they were gasps of fear, or excitement. I smiled as I imagined there might have been one of each.

"I said," she began, "'You know I'll do whatever you want, Master.'"

I could not help but grin at her impromptu cover. "Is that what you said? Well, you'll need to speak more clearly. Perhaps you need some help remembering not to mumble next time."

I felt a tinge ridiculous as I towed the woman by her hair to the sofa and then reclined, yanking her across my knees. As she settled upon my thighs, the softness of her body grazed my loins, the warmth of her form flowing into mine. I shivered as I realized I was already erect! How I wanted to roll her over and kiss her, to fondle her; but that was not what she expected. That was not what she wanted. That was not what she needed.

Flipping the woman's skirt upward, I thanked Alex for her foresight as two rotund feminine butt cheeks sprang into view. "That's right, slave girl," I hissed. "You are never allowed to wear panties!"

"Yes, Master," she whispered in reply. Subtle undulations ran through her body as it rested on my thighs, but she made no move to escape. I noticed her weight as she wiggled. She wasn't anywhere near plump, but she had some meat upon her bones. I smiled as I realized what a complete woman I had across my knee; no petite and fragile girl, but an indisputable flesh-and-blood woman.

My fingers flexed before I eased my palm to her smooth flesh and gave her ass a gentle caress. Then I conveyed my hand upward. With a resounding smack, my hand struck the woman's ass. I heard her gasp. A tremor resonated through the firm muscle of her buttock. Then to, my surprise, she called out in a clear, loud voice.

"One. Thank you, Master."

I smiled through a chuckle as I detected the exhilaration in her tone. I did not know at the time that it was customary for a submissive to so count, but I was pleased nonetheless. Deep pink imprints of my fingers were visible as I drew my hand upward for a second swat. Another clap echoed through the air of the home as my palm found her other cheek. By the third blow, her hips began a subtle undulation. On the fourth, my hips joined them. With each stroke upon her ass, the woman shivered. Then she counted and thanked me.

On the seventh blow, my slave released a long whimper before offering her thanks. An instant later, I felt a warm wetness upon the leg of my trouser as she issued a second offering of an entirely different kind.

With mounting delight, I continued to spank her. She continued to count. The wet spot on my upper pant leg continued to grow. Soon it was joined by a second, smaller damp spot near my zipper.

"Twenty-two. Thank you, Master," she called after my palm struck her bright red bottom for what turned out to be the final time.

As I raised my hand for what would have been the twenty-third swat, I felt an odd coolness where my palm met my fingers. I smiled as I turned my hand to look, expecting to find a moist spot.

Instead I saw something more viscous than a stray remnant of my slave's excitement. I moved my thumb to the mass and rubbed its slickness across my palm. My eyes widened as I realized what it must be.

I moved my hand at once back to the woman's ass. For a few seconds, my palm rested upon her flesh, savoring the warmth generated by the blood rushing to the region. My fingers flexed, groping her softness.

Then I slid my digits into the well-defined fissure between her lovely spheres. At once, I encountered more of the same slick substance. I slid my middle finger down the cleft until I found a soft depression that I knew must be her anus. She gasped.

I rubbed a circle around the tiny orifice, confirming its identity. Feeling yet more of the jelly-like lube she must have earlier placed there, I applied pressure to her sphincter. I inhaled a shallow breath as I felt her circular muscles relax to my touch. My finger slid in easily. She emitted a just audible whimper.

"It's time to put your ass to another use," I declared. Without additional comment, I stood. My slave girl rolled off my thighs onto the floor.

She gasped at being tossed to the carpet thus, but regained both her stature and poise almost at once. "Yes, Master. Thank you again for correcting my mumbling."

My thighs shuddered with their own thanks as the enchantress twisted her limber form to rest on her hands and knees. I loosened, then stepped out of my pants and moved behind, flipping her skirt again upon her back.

Again I gazed with longing at her ass, her very feminine ass. My handprints had long vanished, but her cheeks retained a pleasant ruddy hue as a result of the recent spanking. My hand fell to one of her cheeks, running over the spherical surface, savoring its smooth softness.

The mere thought of being the first to savor all this lovely creature's ass had to offer was enough to cause my member to not only flex, but beg to burst. I knelt behind my slave girl and stopped, realizing I really didn't know how I ought to proceed. You're the master, I coached myself. Proceed however the hell you want!

With that thought and a smile, I leaned forward. With my ungreased left hand, I spread the woman's butt cheeks to reveal a smooth pink furrow. Within that valley, I had expected to see a darkened pucker, but her rosebud was a similar subtle pink.

I brought the thumb from my other hand to her sphincter. Her thighs and cheeks shuddered as my fingers met her flesh. She gasped as I began gently tracing ever-narrowing circles around her opening. Her hips began to move, mimicking the orbit of my massaging digit.

Emboldened by her obvious welcome, I bent my thumb and pushed. Her hips froze, her cheeks flexed. For a moment, her anal rings resisted the intrusion, then the tiny muscles loosened to allow the final knuckle of my pudgy digit to slide within.

My thumb had barely stopped when I felt a pressure on my hand. She was pushing back! My eyes widened as I straightened my thumb, then just watched as the woman eased backward, impaling herself upon this widest of my fingers. As her cunt came to rest against the edge of my forefinger, I began to move my thumb within the snug confines of her anus. At once, her hips moved again, matching the rhythm of my probes. Her ass flexed as well, gripping my invading digit.

I could feel every inch of the most massive erection of my life while I looked at the lustful creature wiggling her ass upon my thumb. I moved my index finger along the length of her already sodden feminine crease. Intent on giving my slave a few minutes of pleasure, I sent the tip this digit to the top of her vulva while my thumb still gently worked within her ass. I had but wiggled my finger once across her clit before the woman released a whimpering gasp. Her body shuddered. A warm burst of fluid erupted from her loins to soak my hand.

My jaw fell. I grunted through my open mouth as I removed my dripping hand from her body.

Still spreading her cheeks with my left hand, I used my right to guide the crown of my cock unto the concavity of her pucker. Her head bounced up as the softness of her tender opening cradled the equally supple tip of my member.

I paused to gaze once more with reverence upon this fine piece of woman flesh, this exquisite posterior that had existed chaste for half a century, waiting for this moment so my cock could claim it.

"Whose ass is this?" I queried.

"Yours, Master," she hissed. "All yours. It exists only for your pleasure. Please use it as you see fit." She paused before adding, "Please use it now."

My eyes bulged as my lust surged, spurred onward by the unabashed wantonness of her tone. I leaned into the woman. An instant later, I sensed her lean back. Her head sagged as her sphincter resisted. My cock flexed into a curve under the strain. I shifted my hand along my member and pressed downward with my palm, urging my cock straight again.

As if I had pushed a magic button atop my shaft, her anus surrendered. My manhood surged forward. The crown completely disappeared. Another good inch followed it. Her cheeks clenched, then shuddered. Her back arched. Her head popped upward. She issued a long, low groan.

Not wishing to cause the woman undue pain, I instinctively started to withdraw but then I heard a single word. The volume was lower than a whisper, but the word seemed to echo through the house like a gunshot.

"More!" she had said.

Moving my hands to her hips, I steadied her body and pushed my cock deeper into her tract, until her ass held it motionless. With some effort, I then drew my cock from her until the edge of my crown peeked from within. Wrinkling my nose and gritting my teeth, I leaned once more into the woman, forcing my cock back into her bowels. "Oh," she whimpered. "Yes, Master! Yes! Fuck your ass. Fuck it hard!"

I began to do just that. The woman grunted with each thrust, though I could not tell if they were moans of pleasure, or pain.

"Does it hurt, slave girl?" I inquired.

"Yes, Master," she managed between groans. "It hurts a lot."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, Master. I like it a lot."

Ah, I thought. Pleasure and pain; for her, the best of both worlds. Understanding that she craved something besides tenderness, I pushed my cock into her body with renewed vigor, each stroke introducing a new portion of her core to my penetration. As my thrusts probed deeper, her groans and grunts grew in volume and frequency. I found the sounds of her excitement every bit as stimulating as the snugness of her ass. As she cried louder, I fucked her harder. As I fucked her harder, she cried louder.

And so it went until my cock was buried in her ass, my balls bouncing against her empty cunt. At that point, I ceased stroking and simply leaned my weight onto her form, my cock burrowing within her depths. She released an odd, guttural groan. Another sound followed at once, a strange gurgling from below. A moment later I felt the spray of her ejaculate strike the sides of my thighs as it splattered off my dangling balls.

I grabbed her hair, pulling her head back as I pushed even harder. "Yes, slave girl," I whispered. "Love my cock with your ass." She climaxed again. I had heard that orgasm depravation was supposed to be acutely stimulating and wondered if I was being a negligent master letting my slave release thus. I shook my head as I realized the foolishness of the notion; depriving this sexy beast of her pleasure would have been a crime unto itself.

Regardless, I did not long consider the issue. Her excitement was contagious. She climaxed but twice more before my cock first begged, then demanded, its own release. I leaned onto her completely. I could feel the weight shift from my knees to my hips as I compelled her ass to accept every molecule of my shaft.

To my surprise, I heard an animalistic snarl resonate from my sinus as the first burst surged through my manhood. I leaned forward, pressing my chest to her back as my semen flooded her tract. My nose found the softness of her hair where I sampled the sweet smell of her raven-colored locks.

I love you! The words were in my brain and on my lips yet I knew I could not tell her such a thing. At least not yet. While my cock continued to pulse within her ass, I moved my mouth near the woman's ear and whispered, "Very good, slave girl. You have pleased your master."

"Oh, Master!" she gasped. "Thank you! How may I please you next?"

Bringing my hands to the woman's shoulder blades, I pushed myself upright, then watched as my cock slid from her loosened anus. Her sphincter flexed as it shrank, issuing a glob of my semen. The milky white substance clung to her ass for a precious second before oozing down into the lips of her cunt.

I stood. "Draw some bath water," I demanded between breaths. "And be quick about it."

"Yes, Master!" she exclaimed, rising to her knees.

Still panting from the exertion and excitement, I collapsed upon the sofa while my slave girl found her feet and straightened her attire. I watched, enthralled at every movement of her limber form until she had receded down the corridor and out of view.

Minutes later, she knelt next to the tub, scouring my body with a soapy sponge as I basked in the warmth of the water. I felt I basked in something else as well, the glow of the most exotic and erotic woman in the world. As she continued to wash me, I moved my hand to her head and stroked the crest, then slid my fingers down, combing her soft tresses with my spread digits.

Soon, my passion again stirred, and my member with it. I shifted my arms to the side of the tub. "Get a towel," I demanded as I stood.

She did so and proceeded to dry me.

"You may wash yourself now," I said after she had completed the task. "Then join me in our bed."

"Our bed, Master?" she queried at once.

I forced a scowl upon my face. "Bend over, slave girl. And raise your skirt."

She nodded. "Yes, Master." She stood, then leaned against the rim of the tub, using one hand to pull her skirt upward.

As soon as she had complied, I brought my wet hand in a wide arc, striking her ass with a resounding smack. "Since when is it your place to question me, slave girl?" I inquired, readying my hand for a second blow.

"Never, Master," she whimpered. Her thighs wiggled as the second swat landed. "Thank you, Master. Thank you so much!"

I moved my hand back to her hair and steered her face to mine. Her full lips came into view, parted just in the most alluring fashion. How I wanted to kiss her sweet mouth!

"Yes, our bed," I insisted. "If I want your body next to mine, then that is where it will be. Where did you think you were going to sleep, the floor? You're a slave, not a pet. Now wash yourself."

"Yes, Master."

She stood and removed her uniform as I brushed my teeth. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, but decided not to look at her directly. Still, what I did see before I departed was enough to cause my cock to throb its interest.

I walked into the master bedroom, chuckling as I noticed how pathetic my meager furnishings filled the large room. We'll need a bigger bed, I noted. But this will do for tonight. Yes, no bed can be too small tonight.

I waited anxiously for my companion to appear. A few minutes later the magnificent creature entered the room. My balls clenched as I watched her walk to the bed. Her body was hardly firm, yet neither was it flabby; it was a perfect feminine compromise of sleek and soft. My eyes roamed every inch of her body, returning with frequency to her magnificent breasts. Freed of her attire, they settled upon her torso, not as firm as those of a younger woman but still proud and full, much fuller than I had expected having seen them constrained in her skimpy uniform. Alexandra had been correct on all counts; her mother was bigger, and better.

The woman moved across the floor with all the grace of a stalking feline, then slid into bed next to me. As she reclined upon her side, gravity pulled her breasts across her form. My focus shifted to her abdomen, where I detected another subtle hint of sag in her softness. I tilted my head as I considered this apparent flaw. Her eyes instantly followed mine to her paunch, then retraced the path back to my face. Her tongue made a brief appearance, grazing her upper lip before she spoke. "Does my body please you, Master?"

There was doubt in her tone. I sat upright on the bed beside her. "Of course. Why would you think otherwise?"

"The way you looked at me, Master. I thought maybe I was too fat," she paused to swallow, "or old."

I leaned, bringing my lips to the paunch that I felt must be the cause of her concern. I kissed the supple flesh near her navel, suckling it just before resuming my upright posture. "You have displeased me," I announced.

"What?" she stammered. "I mean, uh, excuse me, Master, may I know why so that I do not so err again?"

"You are mine to enjoy. That includes looking at you. It is not your place to make assumptions about my feelings while I enjoy viewing your loveliness. Roll over."

The woman smiled as she began to rotate her form. "Yes, Master."

I brought my palm down upon her butt cheeks with a resounding smack.

Her body tensed as she closed her eyes and gasped, "One! Thank you, Master; for correcting my behavior."

"You're welcome, slave girl. I think you deserve a bigger spanking, but I wish to view you some more. I will spank you later. Now roll back over."

With the smile of a woman who knows her appearance is truly admired, she rotated her body, bringing all its supple succulence again into view. I moved closer, so that I could run my hands as well as my eyes over her body. As I leaned against her, I sensed my cock graze her thigh.

My fingers found her flesh every bit as smooth and soft as my eyes earlier had. Looking into her deep green eyes, I moved my hand to her breasts. My tongue found my lips as I groped her tit-flesh. How I longed for my lips to find hers. I had never wanted to kiss any woman as much as this one. Yet I dared not.

I slid my hand south, across her stomach. I ran a single finger down the strip of pubic hair she had left above her snatch. Spreading my hand, I moved it around the baby smooth perimeter of her womanhood before returning to her pelt.

I actually prefer a hairy woman, but I had a feeling she would enjoy the work of keeping her pussy smooth for my apparent pleasure, especially if there was just a little pain involved. "Starting tomorrow, you will wax yourself, slave girl. I better not find a hint of stubble anywhere below your neck."

Her shoulders shivered, then she whispered, "Yes, Master."

Pressing my fingers together, I slid their united mass down into her crease. My eyes followed my hand as I massaged her nether lips. Almost at once, her womanhood parted, such was her moistness.

I shifted my gaze back to her face. Her mouth hung open, her chest heaving as she passed air through her parted lips. I moved my hands to her shoulders. She sensed and shared my wants, sliding beneath me as I rotated my form atop hers.

I paused to look into her eyes as my member stood poised at her entry. "You are a most beautiful slave girl," I noted. "No master could ever want more."

"Thank you, uh." She issued a grunt as I plunged my member deep into her body. "Oh, thank you; thank you, Master."

The coziness of her passage surprised me. It was not so snug as her ass had been, but the walls of her womanhood hugged my cock nonetheless in a warm and wonderful way, far superior to the anonymous tightness of her bowels. I understood I would have to take her ass on occasion for her pleasure, but this was the passage I would take for mine.

My lover began to writhe beneath me, moaning as my thrusting and our combined excitements built. For a moment, I thought to alter my pattern, to prolong our lovemaking and her pleasure, then I reminded myself that her pleasure was my pleasure.

My breath came in pants as I pounded her harder. Her respiration increased as well. Her features were drawn taut, as if she was in pain, but I knew it was something very different she felt. I recognized she was close. In spite of a voice in my head that counseled otherwise, I altered my pace just enough to allow her to release before I plunged into her core and did the same.

My head sagged above hers while my cock unloaded its offering into her depths. Beads of sweat dripped from my hair onto her face. And what a face, even more radiant with that just-fucked glow.

"Thank you, Master," she began. "Thank you for allowing this slave to please you."

I sat upright. My left hand found the outside of her leg, caressing her muscled thigh while my eyes roamed the rest of her succulent form. She could have a horde of slaves of her own, I thought. I'd serve her just for the pleasure of looking at her; yet she's all mine. This is too good to be true.


I brought my eyes back to hers. "Yes, slave girl?"

"May this slave have the honor of cleaning your cock for you?"

I recalled that Alex had earlier addressed this very issue. Does she want everything her daughter and I discussed? I bet she does! Of course, they must have discussed all this already. That is far too good to be true!

"Certainly, slave girl." I affirmed with a nod. I moved forward to straddle her bosom and guided my member to her lips. "Consider it your job to always clean my cock after your pussy has made such a mess of it."

"Thank you, Master," she said just prior to parting her lips and extending her tongue.

I leaned, guiding my cock into her open mouth. Her lips closed at once, wrapping themselves tightly around my shaft. I felt her tongue begin to roam the pliable form of my spent member. I looked into her exquisite eyes doubting it could ever stay limp for long within her mouth. As she continued to scour both my fluids and hers from its surface, I sincerely hoped I was somehow making her anywhere near as happy as she was making me.

"Your mouth feels so good on my cock," I whispered.

I would swear to this day I heard the woman purr as she continued to suckle, only removing her lips from my cock after her tongue had cleaned every inch of its surface several times over.

My crown left her mouth with a resounding pop. Her freed lips formed a brief grin before she moved them again, whispering in the huskiest, haughtiest tone, "Thank you, Master, for letting this slave taste your magnificent cock. I hope you'll allow her to suck it again soon."

"Don't worry," I assured her as I slid my body adjacent to hers. "You're going to suck my cock so much it'll feel natural in your mouth, like a second tongue."

"Oh, Master," she squealed. "You make this slave so happy." She wiggled her shoulders as she tightened her torso, her upper arms cradling her breasts upward and outward in an inviting fashion.

"You please me as well," I said, leering at her before I shifted my body to lie next to her. "But quit trying to refer to yourself in the third person as if you are less than an individual. Your station does not mean you are not a still unique and special person; quite the opposite, in fact."

"Yes, Master." Her fabulous smile again graced her countenance. "Thank you."

I slid my arm beneath her back and pulled her softness to me, savoring the warmth of her body upon my skin. She was so supple, so sexy, such a woman. My eyes roamed her form prior to settling upon her face. She was beautiful, without a doubt. I had implied I found her attractive earlier, but I so wanted to tell her; yet somehow thought it inappropriate to voice the delight I felt in her loveliness.

But there are other ways to tell someone they are beautiful. I snaked my hand around behind her head and grasped her flowing tresses. I pulled her face to mine. I had waited long enough. She was my slave, and I'd kiss her if I wanted to.

And I did. She kissed me back at once. For untold minutes, our lips and tongues explored one another, confirming that what we had just shared went beyond mere lust. Gradually, the fury of our osculation waned and drowsiness claimed our spirits. I fell asleep with her in my arms, correctly convinced I was the most fortunate man alive.

My eyes flew open to a ringing. At first I though it was an alarm clock, then I realized it was a phone. I felt my slave girl stir next to me. I started to order her to answer it, but then I heard her voice next to me.

"Miller residence."

Stretching my arms above my head, I looked to her. She smiled the instant the other party spoke, then covered the mouthpiece and turned to me. "It is my daughter, Master. May I speak with her?"

I nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you, Master." She rose from the bed. I watched the muscles of her pliant form ripple as she walked from the room, the cordless to her ear. As she vanished down the corridor, I dropped my head back to the pillow and glanced to the clock; 9:02.

Nine o'clock on a Monday morning, I mused. And I'm in bed. How perfect. Well, not quite, I corrected myself at once. She'd have to be here with me to make it perfect. With a smile I pictured my lovely servant and drifted back into a light, yet peaceful, slumber.

"Master, my daughter would speak with you if you are willing?"

My eyes flew wide. A sat up to the sight of the clock's red numerals; 9:18. Shaking the sleep from my head, I extended my open palm as the woman handed me the phone. She departed at once. Of course, my eyes followed her until she was no longer in view.

"Yes," I prompted, bringing the receiver to my ear.

"You butt-fucked my mother on the first night?"

I chuckled through a grin at Alexandra's tone. "Yes," I replied. "Did I misunderstand her wishes?"

"Not at all! I'm just surprised."

"She came pre-lubed. Even I can take a hint like that."

Two seconds of silence followed before Alex responded, "She did?"

"You didn't know?"

"I had no idea."

I paused for a breath. "So, did she like it?"

There was an even longer pause before Alex replied. "You didn't ask her?"


"Well done! Never ask her. Leave that to me. She loved it. All of it. And she really liked that you fucked her as well; said it made her feel like a teenager again to have a young cock pounding her pussy. I was almost jealous."

"I, uh, I'm glad I pleased her too."

"You definitely did, but the important issue is whether she pleased you."

"I disagree. That's not the most important issue."

"Ok," Alex relented. "But it must seem to be the most important issue."

I nodded. "I agree. And she did. Please me, that is."

"I know you must have had some concerns about her age. Does it bother you still?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. If she's over the hill, then all the other men are looking on the wrong side of the hill."

"Excellent," Alex whispered. "You know she's worked very hard over the last year to tone her body just for you?"


"Yes, remember the exercise equipment in the basement?"


"See that she uses it daily. Part of serving you is staying in shape."

I smiled before agreeing, "I'll do that. There is something I've decided I never want to do."

"What's that?" Alex queried, some anxiety apparent in her tone.

"Share," I declared. "She's never having sex with anyone else. She's all mine."

"That's good." There was then a pause of several seconds before Alexandra asked, "So why'd you kiss her?"

"Because I wanted to."

"That's sweet. She liked that even better you know; said that's when she knew you were the right master for sure. Just make sure you're doing what you want. I can tell you've a soft streak. I'm glad for it, really, but you must be careful not to do things for her. She wants to be a slave; she's loving it in fact. This is what she's always wanted. Never forget that or you may ruin it for her if you appear to consider her feelings, to be doing what she wants."

I nodded, as if she could see me. "I won't."

"Good," Alex said. "You don't need to worry. She can tell how you feel by how you treat her."

"I have a hard time telling how she feels," I noted. "She's always the same; pretends to like everything. Sometimes I think I know how she feels, but how can I be sure without asking?"

"She's not pretending." There was the slightest pause. "She does like everything."

So do I, I concurred with a silent nod. So do I!

"So just keep it up," Alex continued. "Just like you did last night. I think you two were meant for each other."

I grinned. "I can't imagine I'll ever have trouble keeping it up with your mother around."

I heard Alexandra chuckle before she replied, "Excellent, but don't forget to have her do your laundry too. She wants to serve your every need. And you must spank her every few days. Make up something, like she doesn't fold your shirts the way you like them; any little thing, so long as it's not the same thing."

I smiled as I nodded. "I get the idea."

"I'll call next Sunday morning about the same time..."

"Make it a little later," I interrupted.

"Not much later!" Alex announced. "She's still my mother. I want our day together to be more than an afternoon!"

"Ten then?"

"Ten it is."

"Very well," I said with a nod. "Talk to you Sunday?"

"Right," affirmed Alex. "And hey..."



"Trust me," I said. "The thanks are more than mutual."

"Ok, bye."

"Bye," I said. I leaned across the mattress to hang up the phone, then I allowed my body to settle once again into the center of the bed.

Today's a good day to shop for a bigger bed. I thought. I bet she likes to shop, but that can wait until the afternoon.

"Slave Girl!"

"Yes, Master, coming." Several seconds elapsed before I heard her footsteps. I noticed she had donned her uniform as she entered the room. "How may I please you?"

"Undress," I said without hesitation. "You are one of the few women so beautiful there is no point in leaving anything to the imagination."

"Yes, Master."

As she slid from her clothes, my eyes confirmed that my mouth had spoken the truth.

"What now, Master?" she asked, standing full in her glory before me.

I noticed her face aglow and followed her eyes back to the bulge in the sheet. I smiled.

"Come lie next to me, face down," I demanded, scooting to one side of the mattress to make room.

Still smiling, the woman glided across the floor before sliding into bed beside me, her ass toward the ceiling as I had instructed.

"What did you do to my cock last night?" I inquired.

"Which time, Master?"

"With your mouth."

"I cleaned it, Master."

"And did I tell you to take your mouth off of my cock?"

She shook her head. "No. Master."

"That's right!" As I spoke, I brought my hand in a wide arc to her ass.

The woman's body shuddered upon impact. She gasped, the whispered, "One. Thank you, Master."

I brought my palm to her butt cheek a second time. "When are you allowed to take your mouth off of my cock?"

"Two. When you say so. Thank you, Master."

"If I want you to do something, I'll tell you. Do you understand?" I asked, bringing my hand to her ass for a third time.

"Three. Yes, Master. I understand. I won't do anything without your permission. Thank you for correcting me, Master."

I threw the sheet aside and lay prone, my firm cock bouncing off my abdomen. "You can thank me by finishing what you started last night."

A smile graced the woman's comely face as she twisted her lissome form. Gaining her hands and knees, she crawled between my spread thighs and then turned to face me.

I anticipated that she would plow her full lips at once over my crown. She chose instead to bring her nose to the underside of my shaft. Nuzzling with the tip, she ran her nose three times the length of my cock, then repeated the pattern with her tongue. By the time her lips reached the crown there was already a large droplet waiting for her.

My thighs and gluts both clenched in the same instant as she sank her succulent lips over the end of my shaft. I closed my eyes and just tried to breathe, to little avail. Her mouth didn't just accept my cock, it enveloped it, completely surrounding my rigid pole with her velvety flesh. She was so good, so much better than all those cute little damsels that only thought they knew what they were doing.

Her tresses fell like a curtain, concealing the lovely visage of her face as she suckled. But the shimmering black shroud of hair did nothing to diminish the wanton slurping sounds that emanated from behind it. My hips began to leave the mattress, inviting, even compelling her to accept more of my cock into her mouth. This she readily did.

I soon realized my culmination could not long resist her fervent assault.

"That's it, slave girl," I said. "Suck it harder."

This she did. Not longer, not deeper, not faster; just harder. Collapsing her mouth upon my shaft in titillating increments, she increased her suction, all but drawing the semen from my balls through sheer force.

She drew my cock deep within her mouth as my climax ensued, her velvety tongue cradling my member in the most loving and reverent of fashions. As my shaft pulsed I felt the tip of her tongue somehow stroke the sensitive underside in sync with my contractions, as if she was beckoning my seed into her mouth.

My testes answered her summons, supplying load after load. She held my cock there long after it had finished throbbing, her lips wrapped around the shaft like a second skin.

"Ok," I finally whimpered. "That's enough."

Her captivating emerald orbs still locked upon mine, she withdrew her lips from my shaft in a slow, succulent, slide. Wiggling her head in a wide circle, she threw her raven locks over her shoulder. She brought her eyes again to mine. Parting her mouth just, she ran her tongue along her lips, displaying for me a portion of the milky substance within. Her chest heaved as it writhed, evincing the seething passions that boiled just beneath her exquisite exterior. She looked at me in a waiting, even expectant, fashion.

It took me several seconds before I grasped that she was doing exactly what I told her; not doing anything without permission.

"You may swallow," I whispered.

Her lips formed a broad smile as her tongue retreated within. Her cheeks bulged for a moment before her throat flexed. Then her mouth fell open, her massive bosom heaved again with every breath that passed between her barely parted lips. She ran her tongue again along the edges of her mouth, scouring any sampling of my seed that she might have missed.

"Thank you, Master," she hissed. "For the privilege of sucking your cock. I hope you will honor my mouth with it again soon."

"Very good, slave girl. You make me very..." I had intended to finish with, "happy," but instead paused, recalling Alex's recent caution that I not be overly kind. "Proud," I concluded.

"Thank you, Master," she whispered in a wanton tone. "How may I please you now?"

"Fix me breakfast."

"What shall I make?"

"Surprise me."

"Most appropriate, Master."

"How so?"

She paused to run her tongue again over her lips before replying, "You gave me a wonderful surprise for breakfast. It is only fitting that I should do the same."

"Wait," I said as she began to twist her body toward the door.

She turned her face back to me. "Yes, Master."

"I'm afraid I don't even know your name."

"My name is slave girl, Master."

"No, your real name."

"But Master, that is my real name," she purred. "Unless you prefer another?"

My head moved in a subtle pivot. "No, I don't wish to change your name."

"Thank you, Master."

As my slave girl turned to depart I realized that I did not wish to change anything about her. She was perfect as she was, an elegant and vivacious combination of youth and experience, more beautiful than her daughter, sexier than any teenager; the consummate companion. I didn't imagine any man could ever want more. I know I never did.

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