Wells couldn’t believe the sensations Samantha Gordon’s sucking mouth and throat were sending through his penis. He had been serviced by some of the most sophisticated courtesans in the world, but this woman had something indefinably different. His control was legendary in some circles, but Samantha was forcing him to cum after only moments of activity.
She felt the tremor first in the ballsack she held in her small hand. The orbs began to jerk inside their skin sack and she felt the base of his cock harden spasmodically. The rush of his cum spilling into her throat surprised her, and she gulped reflexively at the flow. He tasted of nothing at all, but the warmth pleased her and the consistency was soothing. Samantha left the swollen member in her throat as he emptied himself.
Wells slumped forward in total satisfaction as she sucked the remnants of his sperm from his softening cock. He ran his hands across the bare skin of her back, and reached underneath her to caress her small perfect breasts. When his hand wandered southwards, her hips jerked at the touch of his fingers on her clit. Surprised at her reaction after such a vigorous sexual encounter, his middle finger explored further and encountered the throbbing rim of her anus. Samantha’s reaction to the exploration both fascinated and excited him.
She felt his finger at the rosebud of her ass and she froze, not even breathing. Samantha Gordon had never allowed the thought of anal sex to pass through the portals of her brain. It was dirty, both morally and sanitarily…wasn’t it? It was forbidden, taboo, beyond the constraints of her society…and suddenly she wanted a hard cock in that orifice desperately. Without thinking at all she thrust her hips downwards on the probing digit, swallowing it to the first knuckle and squeezing it. A loud moan escaped her lips, and she tore her mouth from his semi hard cock. “Please,” she begged, “fuck my ass!” Her whole body throbbed.
Wells said nothing, he simply sat there stunned. The stigma against anal sex in society is strong, despite its presence in porn movies, and one of the most difficult taboos to break for most people. Samantha Gordon sobbed and forced her rim down until his entire finger was buried in her ass. She shook with desire.
Wells stood and pushed Samantha’s upper body onto the seat of the chair. Her ass, suddenly empty of the intruding finger, seemed literally to be gasping to be filled. He pushed the head of his newly swollen cock against the flexing rosebud and slid in as easily as it had into her mouth earlier. Samantha’s mouth opened in a silent scream, not of pain, but of shear excitement as she felt him penetrate her virgin anus. Gripping the seat of the chair she slammed her hips back against his engorged cock, burying it in her ass. The resulting pleasure was so intense she thought she might cum.
Harland Wells thrust mightily into her ass, and held it in deep as he removed his coat and tie. When he was fully naked, he reached for her waist and began to pound into her ass.
“Oh my god,” Samantha cried, “that’s it, fuck my ass.” Her hands gripped the seat of the chair, her breasts swinging with each stroke. “More!” Sam sobbed, “I’ll do anything you want, anything, just cum in my ass!” Wells slammed into her rhythmically. “Shoot it in me, cum in my ass, I need your cum!” Sam was moaning hysterically, her voice rising, and on her final word she squeezed the muscles of her anus as hard as she could. When Wells felt the squeeze, he began to spray the inside of her colon with scalding sperm. Sam felt as if her head was coming apart and she screamed her pleasure loud and long.
She lay senseless on the floor as Wells dressed himself. He dropped another towel on the floor beside her, and she groped ineffectively at his pants leg as he stepped away from her.
Eventually she sat up and began to wipe herself off with the towel he had dropped. She didn’t try to dress herself, Harland Wells had not given her permission to dress. Sam sat quietly on her knees, her hand demurely on her thighs…waiting for his return.
“I’m telling you Ron, in twenty five years of research I have never seen anything like it. She has completely turned; the only thing she isn’t doing is calling me master…which I haven’t asked her to do. “That’s something that should only be demanded by her true master Ron,” he cautioned.
They had met online two years before in a chat room. Ron had felt that he was losing Samantha to the demanding attorneys’ world she worked in. Increasingly she had seemed to spurn his requests for her time, and responded to the demands of her firm’s owner. He watched her as she meticulously obeyed the orders of people above her in the chain, and delighted in the demands of judges and other people in positions of authority.
Ron began to keep an eye on the books she read for pleasure, and the movies she watched. The final key to the puzzle had fallen into place when she had left her laptop on her desk when she went on one of her many dinner meetings. Ron was a Systems Analyst for a major telecommunications company, and computers were no mystery to him. With no small amount of guilt at the invasion of her privacy, he began to uncover the websites she had visited in the small hours of the morning when she was “working” at her desk.
He was not really surprised to find that the website she spent so much time on specialized in submissive videos. By the time he had watched several of them she had visited over several months time, he had established a pattern in her fantasies.
He had sought out Harland Wells because of his reputation and cultivated a relationship with him, and over time a plan had been developed. The price was rather steep, but the cost had been cut considerably by Harland’s corporate visit to Savannah. The results from the session were unbelievable.
“She is ready now Ron, to be introduced to her new master,” Wells told him, “but you should not come in till I call for you.” Ron had watched Samanthas’ entire performance behind a one way mirror. Ron smiled in anticipation. His training as a Master had taken place over the last year and a half over the internet.
Harland Wells strode into the room full of confidence and vitality. Samantha could feel it oozing from him. “What are you going to do when I’m gone Mrs. Gordon?” Samantha acted as if she didn’t really understand the question, but she was playing for time…she hadn’t begun to consider what would come next. She did know that there was no way she could go back to her normal life at this point. Sam hung her head reflectively, still in her submissive posture.
“I have decided to resolve your problem for you,” Wells said, “and fortunately for you, your new Master won’t require too great an adjustment to fit into your current life. Sam looked up at Wells as he produced a collar, a beautiful polished, black leather collar that would grace her slender throat and mark her as her owner’s personal property. In spite of her trepidation, (she was after all, a married woman, and a professional attorney) she was excited at the prospect of meeting her new Master. There was no question of refusing, Harland had ordered it. Once she had been collared, she was committed.
Harland stood and removed a black silk handkerchief from his coat pocket, then tied it tightly over her eyes. Samantha knelt in a more formal submissive posture, more erect. She was still on her knees, her hands behind her back, though her feet were crossed behind her and she was more erect. When the blindfold was tied, Harland beckoned Ron into the room. Wells spoke for the final time. “Mrs. Gordon, you are in the presence of your new Master. He is going to collar you and stake his claim to you, and henceforth you will obey his every command. You will only remove this collar with his permission.” Wells turned on his heel and left the room.
Samantha could hear her Master breathing, and her nipples hardened as she felt the collar being fastened on her neck. Her head moved forward as she sought contact with his fingers, but he eluded her. Her pussy, which she had dried off so carefully with the towel Wells had given her, began to drip and her excitement became unbearable. When the collar was fastened she heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down and a rustling as she smelled the male scent of an uncovered penis near her mouth. When the erect organ touched her lips she devoured it in a frenzy…and stopped…she knew this penis.
&nbs
p; The blindfold was removed and she looked up into her husband’s face. Rage suffused her pretty face as she realized he had set this up and she began to rise to her feet. “I did not give you permission to rise,” Ron’s voice echoed with command, breaking her rage, giving her no choice but to submit to his will. “Suck it,” he commanded in the same tone.
“Yes Master,” Samantha Gordon said. She sucked at the intruding organ, and she didn’t stop until she felt her Master’s cum shooting wildly into her mouth. She came with him.
By Danica Williams
Copyright © 2011 Danica Williams
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content and is intended for a mature audience only.
All persons portrayed in this book are over 18 years of age.
There were six of them, all armed with AK-47’s and they were brutal. Their heads were covered with balaclavas, the kind you see on TV on the cop shows. All of the bank employees, mostly young women, were shoved into one corner of the big room. A handful of clients had been inside the bank when the group of men stormed in leaving chaos and fear in their wake. The thugs treated them roughly, shoving them into a tight group with the women. The leader barked an order and two of them grabbed the manager and dragged her into the main office. Another went to secure the entrance to the office where they had gathered the hostages. He then grabbed a slender blonde with large breasts and yanked her from the hostage group, holding her up against himself as he moved away. The remaining thugs kept their assault rifles leveled at the rest of the hostages.
The blonde girl was sobbing hysterically, and the leader slapped her face, rocking her head back. He told her bluntly to shut up. He looked her over carefully, and then ripped her blouse open, tearing her bra in the process and leaving her breasts bared to his gaze. He pulled her to him, pawing one pale, full breast as he spoke for the first time to the hostages.
“Nobody moves!” he commanded. “If all goes well and nobody does anything stupid we will be out of here in just a few minutes and nobody will get hurt.” He started to speak and was interrupted by a call from the masked figure by the front door. “Shit, it’s a cop!” He raised his weapon and fired a burst through the door, sending the police officer running for cover.
He looked out the window, using the sobbing blonde as a shield, and could see what looked like twenty police cars outside surrounding the building. A single phone rang and after a minute or so, dragging the blonde along with him, he crossed over to it and answered. He spoke with them very briefly and slammed the phone down. The blonde became hysterical as he dragged her to the door. When he reached it, he pushed her through the glass. She fell to her knees with glass cuts all over her…and he shot her in the back of the head.
One of the hostages had remained calm and patient. He had seen such men before many times, and he hoped that everyone else would remain calm until the thugs could take what they wanted and leave. When the leader ripped the blonde’s blouse, he feared for the worst. But he knew perfectly well what was coming after the girl was killed. There was no longer any time left for patience. He had to act.
Only a few moments passed before the hostages began leaving the building, women first, their hands in the air. The first officer to reach a hostage received a strange and garbled message. “He’s in there,” she said, “and they are all dead.”
Cassie Taylor stood in the pouring rain directing traffic around the wreck on the bypass. She had no idea why they called it a bypass, it was used more by locals to get home than it was by travelers passing through. She glanced at her watch impatiently; her shift had just gotten off but she couldn’t leave until her replacement arrived, and today was the day she had to go to her mom’s house to pick up her daughter for the weekend.
The loudmouthed man who had hit the pickup truck in the rear end was gesticulating wildly while screaming into his cellphone. He threw his phone into the front seat and angrily approached the driver of the truck, who was standing quietly by the front of his vehicle answering the questions asked by Cassie’s partner. Cassie shouted a warning to her partner. Steve, holding a pen, a clipboard, and a flashlight while trying to write down the driver’s information, never saw the wild haymaker that decked him. The loudmouth was huge, one of those guys that smashes full beer cans on his forehead and lifts cars by their front bumpers to amuse his friends. Cassie was already in motion before her partner hit the ground, calling for backup as she ran.
She pulled her Glock as she ran…this guy was three times her size and mad. She could care less how many of the guys on her shift ragged her about pulling her gun instead of brawling with this kind of monster. As far as she was concerned, the guys could brawl all they wanted to, she was going to go home every night…without bandaids and casts. So far, every person she had threatened to shoot had believed her and let her put the cuffs on quietly. This one didn’t seem inclined to accept her authority, and grabbed quickly for her gun.
Neither of them ever saw the driver of the truck move. He snatched her gun away from her in one swift motion and smashed the handle of the weapon into the back of the troublemaker’s head so hard that the man didn’t stand a chance. He went down fast. Cassie blinked and accepted her Glock back from the man, stunned. The loudmouthed man lay out cold on the wet asphalt. She quickly knelt and handcuffed him, reporting to the radio that she needed a paramedic, but that everything was under control. Her supervisor, lights and sirens on, stopped and jumped from his vehicle.
Cassie managed to work through the following week without any major incidents. When the end of her shift came there were no surprises. “That figures,” she thought, “Tina is going camping this weekend with her Brownie Troop.” The thought of facing a long weekend alone did not hold any real joy for her without Tina’s company, but she could honestly use the rest. The last two years had really been a strain on her. Divorce from her asshole of an ex-husband, trying desperately to find a job that would support herself and her daughter had been ridiculously hard. The job with the Police Department had been an opportunity she had not really wanted, but in the final analysis had been her only real choice.
“Come on, you know you don’t have anything else to do,” Steve said, “Tina’s gone with your mom on the campout and you’re just going to sit around eating chocolate and being miserable.” She swatted at her grinning partner playfully. “Asshole, you want me to sit around swilling beer with a bunch of swaggering young cops trying to grab my ass so I can be more miserable” she said. “It won’t be like that, I promise,” he told her seriously, “the S.W.A.T. Team Commander will be there. They’ve contracted a civilian to teach them Unarmed Combat. He’s the guy that took out those robbers at the bank six months ago. Yesterday the Mayor offered him a job and a badge. We’re getting to know him and “washing it down”. Cassie had been a cop long enough to know that washing down a badge or a promotion was a long standing semi-sacred ritual involving someone’s shift mates buying rounds of beer and yakking for hours. It was usually a lot of fun…no civilians present, and cops were the world record holders for gossip. Besides, she was curious about this ferocious killer of men, probably a real macho jerk like the rest of them. “O.K., I’ll go, but you’ll owe me one” she told him.
Dressed in jeans, tee shirt, windbreaker and the obligatory off duty gun, Cassie entered the local cop bar a couple of hours later. She saw Steve and the S.W.A.T. Team Commander talking to an unremarkable civilian type that seemed vaguely familiar to her. Steve grabbed her and dragged her over to meet the civilian. “You’ve met Virgil before,” he said. Cassie had a flashback of the enormous loudmouth lying on the ground. She had another flash of Virgil handing her Glock back to her…not something she really cared to dwell on. Even so, she knew she owed her life to this stranger and she smiled and welcomed him to the Department. They shook hands, and he held hers just a tad longer than was necessary, his smoky grey eyes gazing into he
r own brown ones. She looked harder at Virgil. There was nothing remarkable about him unless you were fascinated with smoky grey eyes with flecks of blue in them. He was not overly tall, in his early forties, a touch of grey at his temples and black wavy hair cut fairly short. He had a decent build, neither skinny nor fat, but there were no obvious signs of the weight lifter or the serious martial artist about him, and he was very quiet. She watched Steve and the Commander’s interaction with him for a few moments. These were men she knew and respected, men used to being in control of any situation they came upon. And they were treating Virgil with respect.
She spent a large part of the evening listening to the gossip and sipping at her beer. Her eyes kept returning to Virgil. He always seemed to sense her gaze and turned to look directly at her. She in turn sensed an unearthly stillness in him, and it aroused her sense of curiosity. Eventually they found themselves face to face with no one else around. He took her hand gently into his own. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to talk with you,” he said. She normally found unnecessary touching, especially with males, a little distasteful. This man’s touch was neither possessive nor aggressive, just sort of…nice. She smiled at him, “I’ve been right here the whole time.”
Cassie soon found herself spilling her life’s story to this quiet man she felt so comfortable with. When she got to the part about her abusive ex-husband his peaceful eyes flickered with something else, something actually scary for a second, but they changed back to peaceful so quickly she figured she must have imagined it. She caught herself wondering what he would be like in bed and her face flushed. She sat up straight and asked him what style of martial arts he taught in order to clear her mind of the powerful sexual images that had just taken it over. He looked at her as if he knew exactly what was on her mind, but he answered her question anyway. He didn’t teach any style, as he hadn’t studied any formal style. He explained that he was a retired soldier, and the Army had taught him all he had needed to know about unarmed combat. He came from a modestly middle class family. He was the oldest of three children and had entered the Army right out of High school. He planned to attend college on the G.I. Bill and save the strain and the cost of a college education on his family. They spoke for what seemed like a few minutes, but she heard the bartender welcome in a new shift of young cops. She looked around to her surprise and found that all her friends were gone. Even her partner was gone.
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