Ash: Devil's Crucifix MC

by Carmen Faye

  At home, with their official papers of belonging to Neil, they came to him and put their rings on his ring finger, and then put on theirs. Neal got misty eyed and melted both of their hearts. Their love making that day reached the level of being tectonic for her.

  After fucking Sydney crazy, while she masturbated for them, Neil and Sydney took turns fucking her. For the next two hours, she either had a cock, or a pussy in her mouth, and the other in her pussy. She begged them to use her, swore to them that she was theirs, and claimed to be their bitch, while begging to be fucked like their whore.

  The climaxes they blessed her with, were life altering.

  At the end, Neil turned her over and took her anally, bringing her to an animal state caused by a full body orgasm that left her stunned and wide-eyed for several minutes after he climaxed in her.

  She was kept naked for the rest of the day, between the two of them. She got her G-string on a few times, but only to be taken off her by Neil's big hands. Twice Sydney forced her to kneel and suck her off in the living-room, and then the hallway.

  They did let her shower alone.

  Wednesday morning, she woke up feeling amazing. She was sure she would be sore after what they did to her with celebration sex. But she felt wonderful — until she got out of bed and felt her abs scream at her. Her legs were weak and unsteady as well.

  After a long shower, she came out to hear Neil and Sydney having morning sex. She smiled. Their throats growled, their hands clawed. It was amazing to watch, if a little intimidating.

  She dressed in lingerie, and then put on a short, daring business skirt, with a blouse that was black and slit all the way down her front, showing full cleavage all the way to her navel.

  She was done with her makeup and fixing her hair when the two of them finished with mutual outcries of pleasure and ecstasy.

  She gave them both smiles, and enjoyed the way they were looking at her. Then she left the room to make coffee. None of them were into breakfast, unless there was leftover pizza.

  After making coffee, she laid out a few lines of coke on the table and did two herself. Then, after the brewing, she went into their office with a steaming mug and sat down at her desk, and began researching.

  A little over an hour later, Sydney came in, wearing blue boxers and a red tank-top. "What'cha you doing?"

  "Finding a few apartments to look at today," she answered.

  "Today?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "Well, we have a delivery today," Sydney reminded her.

  "Yeah, but Brian should be here by noon, at the latest. Right? As soon as we are done, we'll go look at a few places. Alright?"

  Sydney shrugged, and said, "Yeah, a'right. You seem in a rush?"

  "No, I just want to stay on track. I think we made some good decisions with clear heads, and we should act on those as quickly as possible," she explained.

  Sydney kissed her, "You look hot in that outfit."

  "Thanks, but I'm way too sore today to be useful to either of you. You slapped your bitch up, and she loved it, but I need a day. Maybe two," she told her.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. I wasn't all role-playing. I love being your bitch. I love you. I was so happy when I saw how turned on you got. I nearly cried I was so happy," she told her.

  "I don't think of you as my bitch," Sydney told her. "Or my whore. I don't understand why that turns me on so much. And fuck if it didn't turn me on when you told me to fuck you like a whore. I just fucking lost it. But now it makes me feel a little embarrassed, and like I cheapened you somehow."

  Shayla stopped her scanning of web sites and said, "Syd, that's not the way of it, and stop that shit right now. You got off on it because you were able to reach a dominate feeling with me. You want me, and you feel strongly toward me. You're like Neil in that regard. Both of you are dominate with me. I said those things to arouse you, and to give you permission to feel that way. To see me as your submissive. To put me in the position of serving you. I did it on purpose. I'm not a victim. I'm a volunteer. Do you understand me?"

  Sydney looked her over, "Did you enjoy it though? I mean, did you feel turned on by saying you were my bitch?"

  "I'm going to say yes to that, because I don't have the right words. I don't know why that triggered me so fucking deep. But I was altered, and I did get off hard, and absolutely loved it. I don't feel cheapened or demeaned at all. Alright?"

  Sydney searched her eyes, "I believe you, and I'm glad you don't. Because, honestly, I look up to you in so many ways. You're like my older sister, even though we're both the same age."

  "I know you do. I believe that, and knowing that made being your bitch fun and exciting, rather than humiliating. That part I am clear on."

  Sydney took a shower, where she was fucked against the wall by Neil again, and then dressed in black slacks, a thin leather corset, and a black business jacket. The corset with the jacket looked like a vest. The effect when she took off the jacket though, was stimulating.

  Sydney finished this off with four inch heels, and a solitaire four carat diamond necklace with sapphire blue stud earrings. Once done with her hair and makeup, she looked like she was on her way to chairperson a stockholder's meeting as their Mistress. Either a laptop or a whip would look perfectly acceptable as an accessory.

  She took one look at Sydney, and for the first time ever, wanted her. She wanted to be her bitch, right now.

  "Damn honey," she said to Sydney with sultry eyes, "you look hot! Seriously hot."

  "Keep that shit up, I won't give a fuck about your sore abs," Sydney told her.

  "Hmm," she purred in her throat. "Getting on my knees and servicing your pussy, wouldn't hurt."

  "Remember that when I take you to bed after we're done looking for an apartment," Sydney warned her with a grin.

  They got the scales and cocaine purity tests out on the dining table and set up. Brian showed up at eleven, and after setting down the case on the table, went to talk to Neil in the back room. The men were keeping their voices down so they didn't try to listen in, trusting Neil to tell them anything important. After all, if they couldn't trust him, then what was the point of all this?

  Again, Anton sent them four kilos, instead of the requested three, with the discounted price of $18k. Again, they accepted the four, since they were now use to peddling out the extra kilo Friday and Saturday nights by hitting parties and clubs where they already established security. Two kilos paid for the four, and then they added $72k to their safe every week, which was adding up fast since they weren't spending it nearly as fast as they were making it any longer.

  What shocked them most was how little they actually had to show for the cash hemorrhaging over the last two years. They had some jewelry. They had two paintings and three sculptures from recognized local artists. The Shelby Mustang was bought and paid for, with full coverage paid for three years. Several of their outfits were priced in the thousands, as were some of their shoes, but those weren't assets any longer. They had silverware and plate sets, which again were in the thousands. Cooking-ware fit for any master chef, which they hardly used since they ate out all the time. But again, these, with the TV and stereo, and furniture, weren't assets, or at least not assets that held their value. Next to their income for the last two years, their assets were pitiful, as were their investments.

  Parties ate it all. They rented 90' yachts, and presidential suites with several bartenders and house security. They spent tens of thousands a week on dining with clients and sources. They hired call-girl friends to service their parties, at tens-of-thousands a night. They might make thirty-five grand, but they spent sixty making it. Who knew how much their hotel and rental tabs were fattened with bogus charges and hilarious tip amounts — they just paid the tabs and went home. They didn't even bother to keep receipts.

  They once spent over two-hundred thousand renting the whole Blue Havana nightclub for a Friday night, with an open bar, a live techno band, ten call-girls, and thirteen b
ouncers for their one-hundred and thirty-three regular customers. They pushed out three kilos that night, which made back roughly one-third of what they put out.

  "There's no sense in beating ourselves over it," she told Sydney. "We did it for the fun, and we did have a lot of fun."

  "You're right. It just feels like we lost total control of ourselves doing it though. I mean, where was the planning? The focus? The things we pride ourselves for?"

  "Up our nose."

  Sydney laughed.

  After Brian left they looked at Neil expectantly.

  "Yes?"

  "I take it then that there was nothing about your visit we should be concerned about," she ventured.

  "No, Brian was just letting me know some of the rumors that are going on about me quitting the route and shacking up with you."

  "Oh?" Sydney asked.

  But Neil shook his head, "Nothing of value or threat. Brian tells me that most of the rumors begin with a sense of hostility, but quickly change to 'way-to-go's' and high-fives. You're making me something of a folk hero, I guess." Then he added, "Damn Syd, you are fucking hot."

  "Told you," Shayla said, giving the change of subject her blessing.

  "Thank you, Neil. But we're about to leave to look for an apartment near the college. Would you like to come? I'll give you a blow job in the backseat?"

  "No," he told them. "There are few things I find less appealing than looking at apartments. If it has walls, a door, a bathroom and a kitchen, I'm good."

  "What about a ceiling?" Sydney asked.

  "I like sleeping under the stars so that's optional."

  "Oh," Sydney said, then her eyes unfocused slightly for a moment, then came back into the here and now. "Well, then we'll pick something we like and you'll just have to deal with it."

  "Perfect," Neil assured her.

  After going to their bank to register their accounts with new ID's and order new checks, they made as large a deposit as they could without the bank notifying the IRS or the FBI. Then they headed out to the college area to view the list of condos and apartments.

  It was six o'clock when they came to the condo in Olympia Heights, which overlooked Westwood Lakes in the back with the balconies and the bedroom windows. The stairs were gorgeous, the master bedroom had a huge skylight, and the master bath had an amazingly large tub, with a separate two head shower. And, the renter was looking for someone to rent-to-own.

  They looked at each other, looked at the owner, and said, "Let's talk business."

  After over an hour of negotiation, they all agreed that simply buying the place with the owner carrying the paper was the best option for everyone. Shayla's read on the man, prompted her to ask, "Do you mind cash?"

  "As in, U.S. currency?" he asked.

  "Yes," she said, her face open, but expressionless.

  "No," he said after a moment. "I can do cash."

  "Then we'll make a one-hundred thousand dollar down-payment, and run the paper for fifteen years," she offered.

  Watching him, she saw that he almost asked — where is the money coming from, but didn't.

  "Deal," he settled on.

  "We'll meet you here tomorrow then with the down payment and to pick up the keys," she told him.

  "Ten o'clock?"

  "We can do that," Sydney told him.

  He looked at their wedding rings, and then said, "Do you mind if I ask you a question? It's personal."

  "You can ask, and if it's too personal we'll say so, but with no harm and no foul," she offered.

  "Good enough," he said. "My daughter, she's tearing herself apart because she believes she's a lesbian and it horrifies her. At first her aversion was agreeable to me, since I didn't want her to be gay either. But now... well she's hurting. Seriously hurting."

  "That's terrible," Sydney said, her voice soft and soothing.

  "I agree," Shayla added. "But, what's the question?"

  "I've told her most of her life that gays were against the will of God and unnatural. I've even gone so far as to protest things like gay marriage. How do I tell her I've been an ass and that she should follow her heart?"

  "Just like that," Sydney told him. "Exactly like that. Baby, I've been an ass, I was dead wrong. I want you to follow your heart."

  "Meaning it," Shayla added, "would be helpful too. Think it through. If she follows her heart, she's going to be bringing home girlfriends, and they are going to be necking in her room. How old is she?"

  "Just turned eighteen," he told them, deep in thought.

  "I don't know if this means anything," she told him, "but my respect for you just went through the roof. Not because I have a wife. That's got nothing to do with it. I've found love like you obviously have for your daughter to be truly amazing, and rare."

  "Thank you," he said. "And I'll take your advice and think this through, because you are right. I can't say that, and object to the obvious actions that will follow."

  "People do it all the time," Shayla murmured, thinking of her own childhood. "But something I've learned just recently, is you never know what you're really committing to when you make that promise," turning to look to Sydney, she added, "but if you can keep it, it's worth whatever it took to get there."

  On their way home, one of Blu Rayne's songs came on the radio, with Neal playing guitar. They turned it up, laughing and screaming out the window as they drove up the freeway.

  In celebration mode, they purchased some wine, and Thai food, and brought it home to tell Neal the news.

  They found him plugged into his laptop, working on mixes. His face was a mask of concentration. They took the food and wine into the kitchen and dished it into serving bowls.

  "How was apartment hunting?" He asked, setting his headphones aside.

  "Not as good as the ride home. We heard one of your songs on the radio!" Sydney burst out, then ran and jumped on the couch with him, kissing him and then putting his face into her breasts. "You're a real rock-star!" she told him.

  He smiled and kissed her breasts and grabbed her ass hard enough to make her squeal. "Actually," he said, setting her to the side and getting up, "I need to talk to you about something."

  "Yeah?" Shayla asked, setting the serving bowls on the dining table.

  He nodded. "See, Joey called, from Blu Rayne? They want me to do an East Coast tour with them, hitting New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Cleveland, Detroit and then Chicago. They already have the venues, and they're going, whether I go or not, but it will help the new album sell better if I go with them."

  "Wow," she said, and sat down. "How long would you be gone?"

  "About six weeks, actually more like two months really," he told her.

  "When?" Sydney asked, all the wind blown out of her happy time.

  "End of next month is when we leave. I told him that we're just finding a rhythm with each other and it might not be the best time —"

  "No," Shayla told him, and got up to open the wine, "No, that's bullshit. This is important, to you and to us. This is a career, and our first date told us you were this good, so we had eyes-open."

  Sydney looked at her with wide-eyes. "But two months?" she asked.

  "Sydney, when we get ready to get into our business, we're going to be traveling all over the place for at least the first year. This is a big step for him. This is what it's about. Like you said, he's a real rock-star now, and we're his wives."

  "Can we go with you?" Sydney asked.

  "Well, I asked that and the answer is no. There's no room, and we're moving fast from place to place. Joey patiently explained to me that he's tried with his wife several times. It never worked out because you won't get to spend any time with me. We'll pull into town, have a show that same day, crash exhausted in some hotel room or on the bus, and then drive like mad to the next city where we do it all again."

  "Groupies follow the band," Sydney pouted.

  "Neil, call Joey and tell him that you're going. There is no way we can call ourselves your wives if we hold
you back on this. That would be the ultimate sucky thing to do!" she told him, and then glared at Sydney. "Now, come in here and eat, and let us tell you about our new place."

  Sydney pouted through most of diner, but was coming out of it as they told Neil about the condo, the price, and the purchase.

  "You're buying it? That's, well, cool," he told her.

  "There's a room down stairs that will make a great home studio for you, with another room for our office. The master bedroom has a sky-light, so you can sleep under the stars, and a wonderful shower where you can fuck us against the wall. Also there is an amazing bathtub were Sydney and I can console ourselves while you're on the road," Shayla told him.