“You don’t...don’t deserve?”
Surreptiously, she had unzipped his pants and replaced her hand on his cock—though this time, there was nothing between her silky-soft palms and the throbbing meat of his big dick.
“Certainly not!” Stroke, stroke, stroke. “I can’t be married to you now that you know about all my infidelity. How could you possibly trust me from now on? I’ll simply have to accept your divorce. I don’t have a choice. I want you to have everything I do.”
He looked again at the papers beneath him, struggling not to lose control to Stephanie’s amazing handjob. The papers were very clear—no settlement, no alimony, no support or payments of any kind from him to her. As a matter of fact...
“You’re giving me all your possessions and agreeing to be my indentured servant?”
Her strokes picked up speed at the mention of the special qualifications. He didn’t even know that indentured servitude was allowed anymore. He didn’t think anything about this divorce could have been real.
“I thought it was only fair,” she said, “considering how little I’ve let you fuck me. I don’t know what was wrong with me.”
“So you’re going to fuck me fifty million times?”
The wording in the contract was very specific. After fifty million fucks, her period of service would be up.
“Oh, I mean, maybe. I figure you’ll have your hands full with other women. There’s so many girls who would just line up to suck your big fat cock, Sir. I just put a number that would make sure I could never leave your service. At least, not until you got tired of me. I’m sure you will eventually. An important man like you must want so many different types of women. I’m so very lucky just to be considered.”
He leaned back, putting the contract down. Closing his eyes, he tried to simply enjoy Stephanie's handjob—and did, of course, though the only woman he could really think of was Selene. Her beautiful eyes, her exquisite bust, those fertile curves, her endless legs...
Selene had made all this happen somehow. She had made this all happen, and she was so, so, so very gorgeous...
“Sign it, baby, please?” Stephanie's robe was gone—she wore only her tall heels and nothing else, her sexy body on display. She had been lactating. Milk dripped down from her tits to the floor. Her free hand held a pen, hovering over the contracts.
Falco took the pen and signed everything. Stephanie cooed out little squeals of gratitude with each one. Then she dropped to her knees, her strokes slowing as his massive cock slid over her cheek.
“In the contract there,” she said, “it states how a blowjob counts as half as a fuck. So...do you think you’d mind if I got started? I just have to repay my big, handsome Master. Selene told me that was your proper title, now. My Master. You don't mind that, do you?”
He didn’t mind at all.
His ex-wife starting slurping on his hot, ready meat immediately, giving him a better blowjob than she ever had when they were married. Her body dripped wet with her own milk, the white streams pouring all down her beautiful curves.
He was so worked up from the whole ordeal, and the long, long handjob that she had been administering, that it was no time at all before he had shot a hot, thick load down her servant-throat, fucking her beautiful face just like he had always dreamed of doing when they were officially together.
And even so, even when he began the first of a series of several hot orgasms exploding into his hot new ex-wife servant—the only woman he could really envision was Selene.
* * * * *
Later in the evening, after bringing his wife’s debt down by two and a half more fucks, he stumbled into his penthouse and then all the way up into his bedroom. The cool night air kissed at his body through his ripped pants and tangled mess of a shirt.
There was absolutely no way he’d ever be hard again, he was certain. At least not for a week.
Then, he saw Selene waiting for him in the bedroom. She wore nothing but a thin jeweled gown, her fantastic body arranged just for him. She looked like a queen, an empress, a goddess designed only to turn him on.
He was hard, instantly.
This amazed him. After so many blowjobs and exceptional volumes of cum—with what seemed like more with each go-round—he was practically bursting to fuck again. There was no fatigue, no hesitation. He needed to fuck—and he needed to fuck Selene.
“I’ve been waiting for you, darling,” she moaned, her green eyes lighting up with lust.
Leaning against the doorframe, he struggled not to jump her. She was so dangerous...but so very gorgeous.
“Y-you have?”
“Of course I have.” She propped herself up on one arm, her gown slipping to the side and just almost revealing her thick nipples. Thick, creamy moisture was evident there. “I’ve needed you to be mine my whole life, I feel like. Perhaps that’s true—yes! My whole life, just for you. I was made for you.”
“Whole life,” he repeated slowly, mesmerized by her beauty.
He approached the bed, his resistance long, long gone. She rose up to embrace him.
“Mmm...” she purred, kissing him underneath his chin. “I’m so glad you see things my way. You do see things my way, don’t you, darling?”
“See your way,” he said softly, breathing in her perfect scent.
“You don’t want your old wife to be your partner anymore.”
“Y-yeah,” he said, nodding dumbly. “No wife for a partner. No wife at all.”
“You’d much rather me to be your wife, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh yes!”
That was Stephanie. She had entered while Falco had been lost in Selene’s embrace, now rushing toward the two in a hurried, naked crawl. Falco's juices still dripped out from her bare pussy. She slid up Falco's leg, staring up at him in happy supplication.
“Please, Johnny? Please, Master? Make Selene your wife? She'll be such a better wife than I am.”
“Y-yeah,” Falco nodded, pushing Selene down on the bed. “You'll be my wife.”
Selene's smile was cat-like, indulgent. “I'll be the best wife for you, sir.”
“The best wife,” he muttered.
Sweating now, he spread her lusciously long legs out. His lips trailed down their silky, tightly-muscled surface. She brought her hands up to the edges of her jeweled gown, and he ripped downward—it came off easily. Selene, naked now, was like heroin for his eyes. Her breasts so fertile, lactating silently in her lust for him. His gaze felt completely relaxed and utterly blissful, bliss that shot hard into the rest of his body.
Staring at Selene's nakedness—her maddenly perfect curves, her bodacious bust, her tight muscles—was like staring into a black hole where all thoughts exited into, all logic was transformed, and all lust magnified a millionfold.
Madly, he fell upon her, his thick cock sliding down the silky surface of her legs. His hands gripped her hips hard, then his fingertips pushed over to her ass, gripping her tight to him right as he entered her hot, sopping wet cunt.
Falco thrust hard, in stark disbelief of his situation. Her pillowy tits crushed against his chest. The milk between them was warm and even soft somehow. Stephanie, as he worked, had attached herself behind him, her own tits pushing hard on Falco's back.
“Fuck me!” Selene moaned lustily. “Fuck me, Sir! Fuck your little home wrecker!”
“Fuck her, please!” shouted Stephanie. “God, she fucking ruined our marriage! She destroyed it, just so she could fuck you! Drill her, darling! Fuck my replacement!”
Selene pulled his head close to hers, her eyes sinking into his. His universe narrowed down to her gaze and his cock in her cunt—the only two sensations worth feeling anymore. Her tight pussy walls closed hard, milking his cock for everything he had. Then, she pushed his head down to her nipple. That streaming, hot, milking nipple...
His mouth clasped around it. Instantly, he found his pleasure redoubling. It was so fucking delicious! Virility surged through him. His cock instantly felt ten times ha
rder.
“Don't look at her,” said Selene. “You only need to look at me. I'm your hot new wife. That other bitch isn't important at all, is she?”
“Yeah.” Falco continued to thrust inside of her and lick at her nipples, even caught inside her gaze. “Not important at all.”
From behind them, Stephanie moaned out her agreement.
Selene's exotic, erotic accent tinged her words. “I'm the only one you really love, isn't that right?”
“S-so so fucking right!” God, her pussy was so good.
“You never loved her. You only wanted me. You're glad you left her.”
The pleasure was getting to be too much. “Yeah, so glad!”
Stephanie cried out, “Yes, yes! He deserves you, Selene!”
“You need me, darling.” Selene's eyes blazed. “You need my hypnotic little cunt. You can't live without me, can you baby? You deserve me. You deserve my hot body for being such a man, don't you love?”
He came exultantly, screaming at his ex-wife how he deserved this new fresh cunt to fuck. He could feel Selene cumming with him, her entire body quivering with glee. From on top of his back, Stephanie moaned and applauded his performance.
After fading into a well-deserved doze, he woke up after half-an-hour, noticing that Selene, naked, was on her cell phone.
“Yes, Boss, he proposed.” She paused, listening. “Oh, thank you! We’ll be getting married tomorrow, I should think. No, no, you’re so busy. Don’t worry about coming. Oh yes, he’s very cooperative. He was a tough nut to crack at first—but once his wife went under, I had him.”
Selene stopped. She seemed to notice that he was listening. Smiling, she toyed with the spiral gem in her cleavage. He watched her fingers, her tits...it was impossible not to. He found himself arranged back onto her tit, sucking happily.
He owned her. He knew that he owned her. He couldn't believe anything else.
Falco drifted off. She said more on the phone, something about taking everything he ever had, but it was hard to focus on.
He didn’t care. The spiral had him, now. Selene had him. And he was so happy to give her everything.
# # #
Bimbo Casino: No Protection
It was unseasonably cool in the small room of the Shining Spiral Casino where Jacqueline waited to be told what to do. She was getting rather tired of it—the cold temperature, the waiting—and was ready to call an audible and just skip out on the entire payday that had been promised to her.
The room was small and ill-furnished. There was a pile of pillows in one corner, for some reason, and two large armchairs. No windows, no drinks, no bowls of fruit or even a clock. Just a blank, maroon-walled room of which Jacqueline felt ready to rip down the wallpaper.
Her public presence was such that she had been rather well-known to become colossally angry at the slightest provocation, and so she was surprised (and insulted) that they didn't know that about her already. She was a world-famous supermodel, for goodness's sake. She was Jacqueline Demonto, and she was more than capable of using her rather illustrious amount of beauty and fame to make others feel dejected or worse (most women she insulted and defamed came close to tears, if not well past that point) when she put her mind to it.
Her self-esteem destroying abilities were well-grooved skills at this point, and the kind, in fact, that she enjoyed employing almost as much as showing off her body. After all, she knew even at the tender young age of twenty-two that this premium-person status she had wouldn’t last forever, and so she might as well squeeze all the enjoyment of feeling superior to others while she still could.
Jacqueline Demonto, along with other world-class models Vivian Ruiz and Marisol Garza, had arrived in the Shining Spiral Casino earlier that day. They were set to do photo shoots and interviews for something called the Spiral Spin. Her agent, in a strangely monotone voice, assured Jacqueline over the phone that it was one of the greatest small magazines in existence today. When she pressed him for more information, he just repeated that one “fact” over and over again, and that she had to go.
It was unusual for all three high-status supermodels to be booked in such a place for such an obscure publication, but with the payday she would be getting, she didn’t mind. She would make more today than she had in three years—well into the eight figures. And all that, just for being gloriously pretty as she had been born. It was enough to make even a rather conceited woman like Jacqueline’s head swell with vanity.
Not helping the matter of her impatience was just how odd the staff seemed at this Casino. All the men were hulking, boner-sporting studs, and all the women were ridiculous busty giggly bimbo babes. The staff flirted constantly, and to be honest, Jacqueline had trouble sorting out who was a patron and who was an employee. They were all so gorgeous. Of course, Jacqueline still thought she herself was much better than any of them.
Jacqueline, being a completely gorgeous woman, had dressed in a way to show that off to the world. She was the third-highest-paid supermodel in the world, after all, and so to her—and to anyone else who mattered, for that matter—that meant she was the third-most-gorgeous woman in the world. She didn’t mind being third—especially as it meant that she was doubtlessly better than three and a half billion other women, and heck, the three and a half billion men that jerked themselves off every night thinking about her. She took pride and happiness in her superiority, and made sure the others around her knew it.
And so, being stuck in this room with no cell phone service for over two hours now, waiting and praying for a change, Jacqueline was getting impatient. They had paid her to come here—why weren’t they taking advantage of all her endless advantages?
Her advantages—and they were considerable—were certainly shown off well by the tight blue minidress she had on now. Traveling with incomparable beauties like the dark-haired Vivian and redheaded Marisol, she knew she had to dress extra-hot to make sure she was seen. So, the skimpy dress hugged her tight abs and her healthy hips, as well as clearly showing off her generous cleavage. Her long, dark brown hair cascaded down her back in hot, wet locks, each strand of hair arranged to make her look perfectly beautiful. Her heels—one of many pairs that cost well over a thousand dollars—only made her spectacular legs appear even more spectacular, highlighting their length and pushing her ass up to the ceiling.
Even Jacqueline had to admit that Vivian and Marisol probably still were more beautiful than her—but they certainly hadn’t dressed sexier today as they arrived. Plenty of men would go to bed with Jacqueline's candid pictures from arriving at the airport on their smart phones, calling out her name. That thought gave her some solace.
Each model was presented with a schedule when they arrived that morning, and each had photo shoots and media junkets to work through—though all three were separated, at least to begin with. At the end of the day, there was supposed to be one big shoot in the “big office,” but Jacqueline didn’t know what that meant yet.
Someone opened the door from behind her. Not wanting to show her wrath, and yet still not quite able to control it handily, Jacqueline sneered out a question.
“How much longer do I have to wait? Don’t they know who I am?”
“Not long at all, dear. Don't you worry.”
The voice was magical, beautiful. Soft, sultry, hot, and dripping with sublime confidence. It was everything Jacqueline had wanted to hear in a voice and just didn’t know until that perfect moment.
Jacqueline turned to see a beauty walking in, wearing a briefly-skirted business suit with smoky stockings, wiping a bit of something off her mouth. Jacqueline would have sworn it was semen, but that was ridiculous. This was a place of business, after all, even if there was such a permeating sense of sex all about it.
Behind the beauty, as the door closed, Jacqueline saw a rather satisfied-looking, handsome man in a suit—who she thought she recognized as the owner of the Shining Spiral, introduced to her earlier—but then he was gone, and the door was shut, and she was l
eft only with the beauty.
“Hello, Ms. Russell,” said the lovely woman. “I’m your interviewer this morning.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your interviewer. For the article the casino is doing on you? We have a very popular newsletter. The Spiral Spin. Everyone says it’s just mesmerizing.”
She sat down in one of the chairs in the middle of the room, and motioned for Jacqueline to do the same. Jacqueline did, but not before enjoying the sight of the beauty’s long legs crossing. Mmph. She had strong bisexual urges—almost any woman in the modeling industry learned to develop them over time—but never anything quite so strong as this.
“I’m sorry, what was your name?” Jacqueline asked.
“Oh, where are my manners?” The beauty held out a hand, which Jacqueline happily leaned over to take—and also absorbed the hot sight of crushed cleavage at the same time. “I’m Selene. It was Selene Franco, but I’ve changed it back to Selene Craft after my husband died.”
“Oh. Craft is your maiden name?”
Wasn’t Craft the name of the owner of the Shining Spiral? Yes...Mr. Craft. Wallace Craft. Jacqueline could remember it clearly.
Selene smiled and shook her head. “No, it’s the name of my favorite person. I just couldn’t bear to have any name but his.”
“Oh. That’s...unorthodox.” Not sure why she was asking, Jacqueline ventured out another query. “I hope it’s not too inappropriate to ask, but...how did your husband die?”
“Heart attack.” Selene’s smile was not that of a bereaved woman—but rather one happily indulgent in her work. “From over-exertion.”
That was an odd answer, and in fact it was odd that Jacqueline had been inspired to ask about it at all, but she couldn't quite focus on that anymore. Rather, Jacqueline couldn’t stop staring at Selene’s tits. They were just so...soooo perfect. Hypnotizing, in a way.
What was definitely hypnotizing, though, was the pendant in Selene’s cleavage. It looked so fertile. So womanly.
Bimbo Casino: The Complete Series (The Shining Spiral Saga) Page 6