by Jamie Knight
Rolling with it, I imagined him putting a finger inside me. Doing the same myself in real life, I slipped in my middle finger to the third knuckle, keeping the index and the ring fingers stroking my lips at regular intervals. I was full of warmth and love as I imagined him pleasuring me, just hoping the reality might live up to it.
The Adam in my head rose between my legs, spreading them even wider with his gentle hands. My pussy fully exposed to him, I imagined putting my hands down and opening myself even wider for him as he stroked the warm head of his throbbing cock against me. Pulling me down and hooking my legs over his elbows so I couldn't run, or really even move, I gave myself over to him entirely.
Fantasy Adam slid his enormous cock deep inside me. He stopped after getting about half his cock in and kissed me, giving me a chance to get used to being filled up so completely. It felt amazing to feel his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, as his dick was partly inside my pussy, which was throbbing and aching for all of it.
I wanted to take his entire cock and feel it stuffing and cramming my pussy. Finally, he granted my wish and started to move. Rocking his hips in a deft, subtle motion, he worked his cock inside me. My pleasure came out in shallow, breathy moans that only scratched the surface of how good it felt.
Gradually, Adam went harder, increasing in both speed and intensity until he was pounding my sweet little pussy hard and raw. The bed shook beneath me.
I bit my lip to keep from screaming in case he thought he was hurting me and would stop. That was the last thing in the world I wanted at that moment. I had never been fucked so hard, and I loved it.
Replacing his cock with his thumb, making gentle circles on my clit, Adam brought his cock to my mouth and fed me his massive load of thick sweet cum as he made me cum with just his hand. My juices flowed out of my and into his hand as he worked my clit with his fingers, and said, “That’s a good pet. Cum for your master.”
Taking me gently by the hips, Adam turned me over onto my belly as if I weighed nothing. In real life, I was a big girl, so I enjoyed this part of the fantasy. I was completely at his mercy, a thought which made me even hornier.
Drawing my arms behind my back and holding both my wrists in one big hand, the Adam of my imagination started caressing my ass. He gave it a firm squeeze every so often. It wasn’t hard enough to actually hurt or bruise, but it was enough to make me feel it and let me know that I was completely his.
“That’s it; let me play with your big, curvy ass, my pet. Let me do whatever I want to you,” I imagined him saying.
“Yes, Master,” I said back. “Take me. I’m yours.”
Gradually, the caresses moved inward, and he started stroking my virgin asshole. The thought made me even wetter.
The pleasure was almost too much to take. It was a little known fact that the asshole actually had more nerve endings going deeper than the pussy did. It was also a lot tighter, which was why anal sex could be so intense. I had never done it, but I had read about it out of curiosity. I wasn’t sure if I could ever trust anyone enough to try it with, but now I wanted it with Adam, more than anyone, ever.
Pleasure at that level easily crossed over into pain if not handled with care, something that Adam, both in my head and the mortal plane, certainly knew how to do.
I don't know how he did it. Somehow, Adam managed to get one of his fingers all the way into my asshole without me even noticing. It was then that I realized he was wearing gloves and had lubed his finger first. Fuck, he was good!
As he worked my little asshole with his gloved finger, surely a prelude to the pleasure to come in more ways than one, Adam reached down with his other hand and started tenderly stroking the outside of my pussy. The combined stimulation brought me to a screaming orgasm.
I covered my mouth, in real life, so that I wouldn't wake Freya.
In my mind, though, the locks clicked like a punctuation mark. My hands, still behind my back, were now secured by handcuffs instead of the soft, warm flesh of Adam's hand. They were of a fur-lined variety and were surprisingly comfortable. The intent was clearly restraint as opposed to discomfort.
The gag soon followed. The little rubber ball was placed securely between my teeth. I did my best not to bite down, figuring this would cause undue soreness in my jaw.
When all was in place, I heard another kind of sound, like a plastic lid being opened. I flinched slightly as the cool wetness rubbed me, pressed up against my asshole, which was already stretched a bit from Adam's deft fingering.
It didn't take much for the butt plug to go in after the initial shock of the lube. Before I knew it, the base was pressing up against my ass and I was being stretched in ways I never thought possible.
It was certainly a new experience, but I wouldn't describe the sensation as pain. It was more a combination of slight discomfort and intense, euphoric pleasure, the type for which no human language had yet invented a word.
Leaving the butt plug in place, Adam lifted my hips to the correct level and slid his uncovered cock back into my pussy. He eased in slowly like before. But the pleasure was heightened to insane levels by the deep anal and vaginal penetration occurring in tandem. It seemed as if it was something similar to double penetration, which I was given to understand was the most intense pleasure possible.
Adam eased the butt plug out of my ass as he fucked my dripping wet pussy, and soon enough I knew why. Just before he unleashed a second torrent of sweet, life-giving nectar, he removed his cock from my pummeled cunt and slipped it into my ass. His cum warmed me from within.
With the head already well submerged, it wasn't much for him to get in a lot further. Easing the bulk of his monster cock into my stretched-out asshole, he slowly took the last virginity I had to give. Bucking a silken rhythm within me, plunging into my deepest depths, he let me feel the full force of possibility.
Still shaking with what I had read was called an 'ass-gasm,' I lay as still as I could while Adam unbound me. He planted a tender kiss upon my cheek when he was finished.
I was sad that my fantasy was over, but I had cum a lot, so I tried to tell myself that it was time to return to reality and get up and start the day. I might be on a reality show with a famous billionaire, but I knew it likely wouldn’t last, and I had life-long responsibilities to tend to.
Cleaning my fingers off with wet wipes from the box next to the bed, I slipped out from under the covers and went to start breakfast before Freya had to start singing for it. She could be very creative in asking for what she wanted.
The bacon was sizzling when the phone started buzzing, humming like a mutant hornet in my pocket. Turning off the stove to avoid a grease fire, I scooted to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Is this Morgan LaFey?”
“It is,” I said, wondering who could be calling me so early in the moving.
Astrid usually slept in until noon.
“I’m calling from the show Who Wants to Lown Down a Billionaire. I have good news, Ms. LaFey; you have been chosen to accompany Mr. Leary on the Luxury Lockdown Escape portion of the show.”
“You don't say,” I said, remembering what Adam had texted me the night before.
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to know already or not. Text was the worst medium through which to express intent.
“We will send a car for you tomorrow. Please be packed and ready.”
“Mama?” Freya called from down the hall.
“What was that?” asked the man on the phone.
I assumed that he was an assistant who worked for the show. Apparently, he had never heard a three-year-old before.
“That's my daughter,” I confessed.
“Your daughter? You didn't say anything about having a child.”
“You didn't ask,” I pointed out, certain I had just scored a one-move checkmate.
“We most certainly did. Right under relationship status, which I notice you filled in as divorced.”
“More or less,” I corrected, as it
was a bit complicated.
“More or less or not, it doesn’t really matter. The matter at hand is what you did, or rather did not, put in the box directly below the marital status question.”
“Which one was that?” I asked, perplexed.
I felt like I had stumbled into some kind of alternate dimension.
“The one that asks if you have any children currently under the age of 18. It was left entirely blank, so naturally, we took that as a ‘no’.”
“You know what happens when you assume,” I said.
“No, what?” he asked, sounding as confused as I was.
“You make an ass out of you and me,” I told him.
“Yes, very droll. In any case, because of your underhanded scheming, the whole thing is off. Good day to you, miss.”
Well, there goes that, I guess.
Astrid was not going to be pleased.
I wondered if Adam knew. From what I had heard, he took a very hands-on approach to the show and surely he would have set his own parameters. Maybe moms just weren't his thing. I couldn't really fault him.
My heart felt like it had been pulverized in a mechanical press, but I knew this whole outcome was at least partly my fault. I should have been more honest and up front with the show – but then, I had had a feeling that I would never get to be on it in the first place, if I had done that.
I texted Astrid to come over, pronto.
“He actually said ‘underhanded scheming’?” she asked between mouthfuls of strawberry cereal, once she’d arrived.
“He did. But it was the ‘good day, Miss’ that stuck out in my head. Who the hell does he think he is, some kind of Jazz-era English butler? ‘I say! I have never been so insulted in all my life.’ How does he know I am a miss, anyway? At first, he called me Ms. It was only when he had found reason to hate me that he switched to the antiquated mode. He was trying to be insulting. What a prick.”
“No one could hate you. It’s simply impossible. Like discovering the true name of the wind or finding a viable rhyme with ‘orange,’” Astrid philosophized.
“I just can't imagine Adam being so mean. I mean, he never mentioned his feelings about kids, even though I did tell him about Freya,” I opined. “It seemed he liked the idea, actually.”
“You can tell that, can you?”
“Well, no, not one-hundred percent. I just have a feeling. Had a feeling, anyway. A kind of fluttering in my tummy. Similar to the butterflies I had as soon as I met him,” I confessed, the words falling out like gum balls from a faulty machine before I had the chance to stop them.
“Woah. Butterflies? That sounds like you’re talking about L-O-V-E. Bit quick, isn't it, Snow White?”
“Oh, come on. It wasn't really love at first sight. We even went on a date before I started to solidify whatever feelings these are for him. Yeah, there were cameras, but I suspect he's used to that. It seemed like a regular romantic date to me, even if it was for TV.”
“Yeah, but still, love? That’s never a great idea so early on. Look what’s happening now. I would suggest you just forget about him. It will be easier that way. Trust me.”
She didn't exactly speak from experience, but that didn't stop Astrid from having a valid point. She could certainly be wise beyond her experience at times. Must be the kind of ancient, indefinable wisdom some people just seem to be born with, like prodigies of thought.
I never saw it coming, but I guess I really should have. Apparently Adam was dropping me because I was a single mom. And Astrid was right – I just had to accept that fact and move on. I had no other choice.
Freya dropped her crayon, climbed up into the couch and gave me her version of a big hug.
“Mama sad?” she asked.
“I’ll be okay, baby,” I said, hugging her back.
At least I’m going to try my best to be.
Chapter Seven - Adam
The room was as empty as it had ever been. But my heart, it was quite full. It was full of warmth for the connection with another, and with love, even though logic and tradition would dictate it was too early.
The peace came from knowing that love was still possible. After so many years spent with temporary flings or gold-diggers, I really felt I had found the one, as foolish as that might sound.
In addition to the warmth of my heart, my skin felt as if it were on fire with a burning passion for Morgan and what we would soon be doing together. I was more excited than I had been in years.
I guess I should have known something was wrong. I wasn’t quite to Jedi-level of sensing disturbance in the Force, nor did I possess a Peter-Parker-grade Spidey Sense, but I could more or less smell trouble coming from a good distance away. It was a skill one developed quickly when trouble became a way of life.
That was why I had security. Sure, they doubled as drivers, but that really only made them more deadly, not less.
Shonna pulled up in the limo, McQueen shades reflecting my own face back to me as she got out and opened the door.
“Lookin’ good, Shonna,” I said, climbing into the back.
“Sir,” Shonna said with a terse nod.
It was a well-kept secret known only to myself, and any of the assorted gods who might be listening in at any particular moment, that I preferred my pets to call me Master. It was not as a power play as could easily be assumed, but because my staff insisted on calling me ‘sir.’ I wanted to separate business and pleasure as much as possible.
‘Sir’ was certainly a more traditional Dom title. Particularly for newer ones. Dom was a general description for a role and ‘sir’ an open term of respect. ‘Master’ meant something else. Not only that one was a mastery of one’s chosen kinks, but it was also sometimes an indication from the submissive that they had given themselves entirely to their Dom’s control. The Dom is the master of the submissive’s world. It is a very special and somewhat rare relationship that tends to be noted when it happens.
I, of course, meant the term in the first sense, something with which few, particularly those who have been in my bedroom, would argue. It was similar to how one did not need to be a light of the realm or qualified and practicing lawyer to use the honorific ‘esquire,’ but it was also a term that can refer to an upstanding or respectable person. Neither of which I had ever been accused of, but still, the example held.
I went to the production office. Images of Morgan’s beautiful form were playing in my head when the storms came in the form of a very down-looking production assistant who was literally staring at her feet.
“Mr. Leary?” the assistant asked.
“Yes, Sara?”
“Y-you know my name?” she was startled.
“Of course I do. You interned here last year, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t think anyone ever listened to me.”
“I do. What’s the problem?”
“The producers, sir. They’ve called an emergency meeting. They wanted you there ten minutes ago.”
“Oh, did they now?” I asked, the idea delighting me more than it should have.
“Yes, sir.”
“Perfect.”
I strolled to the elevators at a leisurely pace, doing a little jig on the way.
They were all there. The entire den of scumbags, liars, and thieves, wallowing in their ill-gotten gains. They were still hilariously convinced that they had pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, despite their parents paying for literally everything from the moment they were born. Their jobs at the studio were the closest thing to honest toil they had ever experienced.
The Armani suits dotted around the table were a physical form of psychological armor against the reality where sane people lived. I had seen it enough to recognize the signs.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, please take a seat,” the king viper said, nodding toward an empty chair.
“What's the trouble?” I asked.
“It's nothing, really. There was just a bit of a problem with t
he woman you chose.”
“Did she back out?” I asked, rather stunned by this revelation.
“Oh, no, nothing like that. She just wasn't completely honest on her write up. Turns out she's a mom. We can't be catering to the whims of a child while shooting. So, if you could just tell us your second choice, we can get back on track.”
“Did she say she didn't want to do it?” I asked.
“Well, not exactly, but-”
“Who made the call?” I asked, cutting off the king.
“I did,” spoke up a particularly squirrelly, blow-dried specimen who had Junior Partner written all over him.
I didn’t know his name and the company’s latent fascism hadn’t yet reached the level of personal ID cards.
“What did she say?” I inquired.
“Not much, honestly. I had just told her she had been chosen when I heard a kid calling out for her and figured it was hers. She confirmed and I told her the whole thing was off. As Mr. Murdoch said, we can’t be catering to some brat on a shoot,” the Junior Partner said, with the supreme confidence found only among the clueless and the clergy.
“That’s not quite what I said,” the king corrected.
“Get out,” I exclaimed.
“What? You can’t-”
“Do as he says, Bateman,” the king ordered the Junior Partner.
“But-”
“Pat,” the king warned, a fire burning in his eyes.
With great tantrum, the junior associate huffed his way from the conference room, taking his 80s hair with him.
“Listen, I’m sorry about Bateman. He hasn’t been here very long. If my sister hadn’t called me saying he needed a job, he would be in Hawaii right now, surfing all day. Got to keep the youth busy, right?”
“It certainly helps, and there is no need to apologize. I get Morgan, and that’s that,” I decreed, pleasant as could be.
“I’m afraid I can’t-”
“Can’t what? Get it through your thick, thick skull and into your tiny, tiny brain that the show you asked me to be in is predicated on the use of property I privately own, and without me there is no show?” I asked, trying to blind him with the supreme power of logic.