Donna and Connor at 228 Harper's Cove Read online

Connor is making me wear an apron in the kitchen―one with some heat-resistant lining. I burned my left nipple last week when I reached into the oven and made contact with the door. Ouch.

  He asked for roasted pork loin, okra, and herbed redskin potatoes tonight for dinner. I made some rolls too. He’ll love it.

  I hear the alarm on the car, so I run to my place and kneel. When he comes in the door, the first thing he does is stroke my hair. It makes my day complete. “Oh, god, Donna, the whole neighborhood smells good! If it tastes anything like it smells, well―”

  “I hope so!” I stay right where I am. In just a few seconds he’s taken a seat on the sofa and pats the space beside him. But when I start to sit down, he grabs my waist and pulls me into his lap, and I giggle like I’m twelve.

  “Hello, Pet. I’ve missed you today,” he says, pinching and twisting a nipple between his fingers.

  “Ouch!”

  “Oops. Wrong one. Sorry, sweetie.” He looks at the burn. “It’s a lot better. Been wearing that apron?”

  I whisper into his ear, “Yes, Master. I don’t want to ruin your toys,” and he slips a finger into my pussy. The weeping of nectar from it is immediate. He lifts me off his lap and leads me around the back of the sofa, bending me over it. The tinkling of his belt being unbuckled makes my cunt throb.

  “Anything in the kitchen that’s going to burn?” I can hear the need in his voice.

  “No, Master. It’s all got about thirty minutes.” I’m quivering in my own desire. This will be fast and hard, and I like it that way.

  “Good. I want to fuck you hard, Pet. Let me hear your pleasure. And be loud about it.” There’s an instant when he doesn’t move, and I wonder what’s going on. Then he sinks it home in one amazing, violent shove and I almost scream. The rhythm begins, my body being rocked by his hardness and thrusts, and I let it take me, twist me, drown me, and I cry out with every stroke. “Hands!” he snarls, and I put them behind my back. Crossed at the wrists, he holds them tight against my back and leans back, firing into me like a bull rider at a rodeo. His strokes are powerful, hard, and deep, and my body responds, everything tensing in anticipation.

  “May I come, Master?” I manage to choke out.

  “No, you will wait.” My groans fill the room. “When you feel me come, you may come also.” Good enough, I think. I’m almost frantic with want, and I know my sheath is pulsing around him, begging him for release. There’s a sudden burst of energy from him, a bruising pounding, and he whispers, “Now, Pet!”

  As his seed scorches me, everything inside me reaches for the summit, burning in the heat of the inferno he’s planted deep in me. I cry out over and over, my pelvis undulating of its own accord, tornado wild. To empty into me, he stretches out the hand that’s not holding my wrists and fists it in my hair, pulling my head up and back, arching my back and planting my pussy firmly on his shaft, allowing him to bang into me like a dog hunching its mate. I’m still screaming for more, harder, faster, wilder, and he shouts out, “God, yeah, fuck me!” and grinds against me, milking every last drop of cum from his sack.

  Never in the years we’ve been together do I remember him fucking me like that, so out of control and so overcome with lust and passion. He drops onto my back, prods up into my cunt a couple more times, and then goes still. I’m panting and weak, covered in sweat, and I don’t know if I can move, if and when he ever gets off of me. “Master, you fuck like a god,” I manage to groan out. “Your cock is pure magic.”

  He kisses the side of my neck. “I can’t get enough of you, Pet. I could fuck you all day long every day for the rest of my life and it wouldn’t be enough.” His hands slide around me and grip my breasts, fingers pulling and twisting my nipples but careful with the burn, trailing his lips back and forth across my shoulders. I feel him lifting my torso and I’m upright, his cock still buried in me. When he backs out of me, he takes my shoulders and spins me to face him, then drops to his knees and buries his face in my slit. His tongue works my tender, swollen gem and I shudder out an orgasm, a powerful one, all sparks and electricity. When it subsides, he leads me to the kitchen.

  “Hands on the counter,” he orders. Once I’ve complied, he lifts my right leg and holds it aloft, the bend of his left arm supporting my knee. My torso is perpendicular to him, and he announces, “I’m hard again. I want more of your pussy. Do you want me?”

  “I always want you, Master,” I whisper. “Fuck me hard.”

  His cock tears into me and I feel blistered and raw. There’s a primal air to this, this prolonged piercing he’s giving me, and I’m fearful of him ever stopping, of not having this, of not hurting this way, his giant shaft boring into me without mercy. When I think it can’t get any stronger or scarier, he pulls out and says, “I’m taking your ass.” With no lube, the burn is horrific, and I scream out over and over as he slams into my back channel, my rosette on fire. I’d collapse and fall, but he’s almost dangling me by my leg as he pistons into me, harder and faster until I think I can’t take it anymore.

  “Make sure you’re braced on the counter, Pet. I’m taking you down.” Before I can ask what that means, his free hand strokes my clit and I come undone. I feel the gush of ejaculate release from my sex and I twist my torso so that my chest is pressed tight against the countertop, trying to stay in the game, everything in my body churning and twisting. He doesn’t stop, and the orgasm goes on and on until I can’t stand it, screaming for him to stop, to go on, to destroy me and tear me apart. I’m lost in it, begging for everything he wants to give me and more, and I feel his cock’s warm milk fill me and run down my leg, wishing I could catch it and drink it in. He grinds into me, making me dizzy and unsteady, and I almost fall, but he catches me, his hardness still in my ass, and holds me to him with my feet six inches off the floor, impaled on his rod.

  When every drop of him is in me, he stops and stares down at me. I try to smile at him, but I’m exhausted. He grips my chin in his hand and kisses me, his lips insistent. “Pet, you are an amazing fuck. I want you over and over.”

  “Master,” I manage to say, my voice hoarse from screaming, “I want you to fuck me again and again and again. Fuck me until my voice is gone, until I can’t walk, until you rip me open and destroy me. Please, please don’t stop. Please?”

  He chuckles. “Baby, I’ll be hard again in about three minutes. I want you to suck me until I’m like concrete and I’m going to pound you until you see stars. Want that? Can you handle it?”

  “Doesn’t make any difference, Master,” I whisper to him. “I’m yours to use until you use me up.”

  “I think our dinner is ruined,” he laughs.

  “So let’s eat it, and then you can throw me up into the middle of the table and fuck me.” I writhe against him.

  “Nope. We’ll eat, then I’m going to shove my salty, bitter dessert down your throat. And then I’m going to fuck you again. I hope you don’t have anywhere you have to be tomorrow, because I’ve got a feeling you’re going to be so bruised and swollen you won’t be able to walk.”

  “Oh, god, I hope so, Master,” I groan as I kiss him.

  6

  Gloria

  So I was walking outside the Millicans’ house tonight and I heard someone screaming. I could’ve sworn they were saying the “F” word. I had to be mistaken, though.

  Last night two girls came to their house. I’ve seen them over there before. The way they were looking at each other and holding hands, I think they were some of those gay women, what is it that they’re called? Lesbos? I think that’s it. I don’t know how Donna and her husband could do religious counseling with two women who have sex together. That’s just unnatural. I would think the religion would frown on that. Maybe they’re trying to fix them.

  I’m telling Russell about it and he says, “Gloria, you have no idea what’s going on over there. Maybe they’re sisters.” Yeah, right―sisters. Sure.

  I just happen to be walking by one of their basement windows tonight and I w
onder if they’ve gotten their exercise equipment put together and ready. But they’ve got something over the basement windows so I can’t see inside. That doesn’t make sense. Why would they care if someone saw them exercising? I decide to try some of the other basement windows, but they’re all like that.

  I wonder if they’d do counseling with me and Russell. We could use it. He’s not very attentive, and he doesn’t believe a word I say. Of course, if we went to counseling, he’d just complain because he doesn’t get sex when he wants it, and I’d be the bad guy. But really, it’s not all that great. I’ve never been able to figure out what all the fuss is about.

  Ah, men. I don’t get them, and I guess I never will. If I’m not mistaken, it’s high time for my evening cocktail. It’s been awhile since dinner.

  7

  Donna

  I saw footprints outside one of our basement windows. That snoopy bitch is trying to look in. I knew it; I knew she was poking around. So I tell Connor and we put the plan into effect.

  We’ll be the only ones who ever know, but it’ll be good. Really, really good. And we won’t be guessing anymore.

  It’s Thursday night, and I know what that means. Master Don is coming over.

  Don’s been coming over every week for almost a year now. He decided that he wanted to be a Dom, and Connor’s been training him all this time. The problem is, he doesn’t have a sub, so I wind up being his guinea pig. How thrilling.

  Tonight he’s working with the flogger again. Wonderful. I can hardly wait.

  But Master surprises me. “Get some of your fetwear out. We’re going to the club tonight.”

  “What about Master Don?” I ask.

  “He’s meeting us there.” He doesn’t elaborate.

  Now I’m nervous. We don’t go to the club very often. Master says he shouldn’t have to put in for a performance area and then a private room when we’ve got our own dungeon. But he does like to scene with some of the subs there, and he likes to see me scene with some of the Doms. I’m wondering if that’s the game plan here.

  After we get inside and I lock my things in a locker in the ladies’ room, I come back out onto the floor in time to see Master and Don talking. When I walk up, Master says, “Pet, go to the bar and wait until we finish our discussion.” Weird, I think.

  In about five minutes, Master comes to me. “Master Don will be coming over here to you. He’s going to do the same thing he’d do if he met an uncollared sub in the club and was going to negotiate a scene with her. Do what you’d do in the same circumstance.”

  “Am I actually going to be performing this scene with him?” I’m a little nervous about this.

  “Yes. Whatever you negotiate, you will perform. I will be handy if there’s a problem.”

  “And what if he wants sex, Master? What do you want me to do?”

  “If he wants sex, I would like for you to negotiate it into the scene. Do you want to allow him to fuck you?”

  “Whatever pleases you, Master.” I really don’t want Don to fuck me, but if Master does, I will.

  “Yes. That would please me. I’d like to see him enjoy your body and use it. Now, here he comes. Remember, it’s as though I don’t exist.” He steps a few feet away and I feel near panic.

  “Hi! I don’t think I’ve seen you before. My name’s Don. You can call me Sir,” he says and extends his hand. I’m careful not to look up into his face.

  “I’m Pet.” I place my hand in his and he kisses it. I find the whole thing awkward. As though I don’t exist, Master had said. “Can I help you with something, Sir?”

  “Yes. I’d like to negotiate a scene with you if you’d like to scene with me.”

  “What would it entail?”

  He smiles. He’s a pretty good-looking guy. I guess if I’ve got to fuck someone other than Master, I could do a lot worse. “I’d like to restrain you face down on the bondage table, do some work with the paddle and crop, and then fuck you while you’re still restrained. Afterward, I want to go to a private room, fuck your throat, and then cuff you to the bed and fuck you again. Would this be something you’d want to do?”

  I stop for a second and think about it like Master and I had discussed it. “It all sounds okay, except I’d ask that instead of the bondage table while you’re prescribing the discipline, I’m bound to the horse. It would also make it easier to fuck me.”

  “That’s true, but there’s something about seeing a sub spread-eagle on a bondage table that works for me. And I’d like you facing me while I’m inside you.”

  I think again for a minute. “That’s fine, but I still want to be on the horse for the flogger and the paddle. Then move me to the bondage table for the fuck. And you will stroke my clit and give me an orgasm before you fuck me on the table.”

  “And I will want nipple clamps on you while you’re on the table.”

  I think again. “So on the horse for flogger and paddle, then on the bondage table face up, nipple clamps, and you give me an orgasm before you fuck me. Then private room where I’ll suck you and then you’ll cuff me to the bed and fuck me again. Did I understand all of that correctly?”

  “Yes. Deal. Are you ready to begin?” he asks, staring at my breasts, which I’m used to from him.

  “Yes.”

  I rise from the chair and walk to the edge of the performance area. Master Don says, “Sub, remove your clothing and present yourself.” I do what he says, and he looks down at me. “Very nice. You will mount the horse and be restrained.”

  Once I’m on the horse, he straps me down and begins rubbing my ass to warm and prepare the skin. He stops, and I hear the whir of the falls on the flogger as he circles it through the air. “Is forty lashes agreeable?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I tell him. He begins, and the flogger falls warm my skin. I’m happy with that, and he’s pretty good with the thing.

  When he’s finished, I hear him moving around and then he says, “Twenty slaps with the paddle. Is this agreeable?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I repeat. He begins striking me with the paddle, first one cheek and then the other, and rubbing after the strikes. I’m warming up and I’m also getting wet. It’s a combination of the striking, the rubbing, and knowing he’s going to fuck me in just a little while that’s gotten me aroused. Adding to that is the fact that about forty people are watching. Master’s always teased me about being an exhibitionist.

  When he finishes with the paddle, he releases the restraints on my ankles and wrists and says, “To the bondage table.” I make my way over, then climb on and lie on my back. He shackles my arms to the table over my head, and shackles my ankles with my feet drawn up, heels against my ass, and presses my legs open. His mouth works one nipple and then there’s a clamp applied to it, tightened down and checked for security, followed by placement of the other.

  The agreement was an orgasm before he entered me, but I was surprised to hear the whir of a large wand vibrator. Before I can say a word, he’s slammed it against my clit and is holding it fast. My eyes dart around and I find Connor. He has an odd look on his face as his eyes meet mine, and I try to send him some unspoken message about how nervous I am with what Don is doing, but he just watches. Within just a couple of minutes my abdominal muscles spasm and the climax rips through me, driving my hips upward and knocking the breath out of me. I writhe and scream as he continues on, never stopping, and my pelvis bucks and shakes as he draws it out as long as possible. I’m frantic but I can’t move. Then he snaps the power off and climbs up in a flash, sliding his dick into me and pumping for all he’s worth.

  I look back to Connor again, and he’s still watching, not alarmed, just passive, almost like he’s curious about what’s going to happen. I shriek as Don yanks the chain between the nipple clamps and continues to bore into me, stroking faster and harder as he goes. I’m fighting it but I can’t; another orgasm snaps my pussy tight around his shaft and he continues to tear into me until I feel him empty into my depths. He gives a couple more grunting shoves
into me, and then climbs off. I’m exhausted, but I remember that there’s more to come.

  After he’s unshackled me, he gathers up my clothes, puts a hand on the back of my neck, and leads me to the private room. It’s been readied―did Connor do this?―and he wastes no time forcing me to my knees and shoving his cock into my mouth. I drop the floor of my throat and let him down and in, working my tongue on the underside of his meatiness to make him groan. It still seems like it takes him forever to get off, and I swallow down his creamy offering and lick his shaft clean. “Thank me for my cum, sub.”

  I smile up at him. “Sir, thank you for your abundant cum.” He grins.

  Once he gets me to the bed, he has me kneel. He puts a cuff on each of my thighs just above my knees but chains them to the headboard. I’m confused; I can’t figure out what he’s doing. Doesn’t take long, though. He puts a cuff on each of my wrists, then runs the chains under me and between my legs with the intent of fastening them to the footboard. Once both sets are pulled tight, my arms are pulled underneath me and between my legs, and my ass and pussy are wide open and in the air. It’s a most uncomfortable position, head down and turned sideways, but very effective, and he wastes no time cramming his manhood into my gaping cunt and banging me for all he’s worth.

  He pounds me so hard that he lifts my knees off the bed, and while he’s pounding me he’s slapping my ass. There’s been very little said since he brought me into the room, but out of nowhere he orders, “Sub, beg me for more cock. I want to hear you plead.”

  “Sir, please give me more cock, Sir. Please fuck me, Sir!” I cry out. And I mean it. I’m now so into the act that I need to be fucked hard and deep, my pussy begging for more of him, longer and faster, and he answers the call. I feel myself starting to drift upward, free and light, the pain of his shaft piercing me making me want more, harder, longer, faster, bigger, hotter. “Sir, god, please, Sir! Pound my pussy, Sir! Please, ram me, Sir!” I beg him, and he ramps up his efforts, our bodies making a slapping sound as they meet.