by TylerRose.
“Get over here and suck me.”
A command she heard but was slow to respond to. He gave her the half minute it took for her to stand up and turn around and sink down into a squat in the driveway.
“That’s my good girl,” he purred as her sweet mouth closed around his hardness.
Hades had taught her well how to fellate. Several times she almost latched on. That would come in handy when she started to feed from the crystal energy.
“Now we go get dressed for your birthday outing,” he said after he’d cum into her wide open mouth.
He had an outfit ready for her, a short lacy dress and ballet flats to go with, and forbade her from asking questions as they drove down the hills and turned onto I-5 South. An hour and a half later, they pulled into the VIP parking section of Disneyland. They stayed until close with a lovely steak dinner at sunset.
Slave play on Sunday was stalled out, however, as she woke with one of those terrible headaches that seemed to be more frequent in recent weeks. He let her lie in the dark in her own room, brought her ibuprofen though he knew it wouldn’t help. This wasn’t a normal headache. Not a migraine either.
This was a precursor to the Widening, proof that it was fast approaching. There was nothing to be done but wait it out. She was better at noon, ready to eat, and Kuai had a lovely cream of broccoli soup. They finished off the small birthday cake brought to the table at dinner the previous day.
He let her go home at the usual time, after several turns around the drive in her new car to get used to it. She’d driven herself in the car with Glum many times to learn the streets and rules, and knew the way home well enough.
Monday, driving around on her own, she found an estate sale. Lots of stuff she couldn’t have cared less about. She found a lovely tea service, the pot decorated with white calla lilies all around and the spout an open flower. The little cups were decorated the same but with smaller flowers, and their handles were a stem.
She bought it on the spot for five dollars, then spied a little carving of a bear. Old, wood. Not a tourist toy. She picked it up and was jolted with a shock of a vision. An Indian had carved this, given it to his son before leaving on a hunting trip and the father had not come back. He’d been mortally injured. The woman running the sale didn’t know anything about the piece and sold it to Tyler for fifty cents.
That odd sensation again, needing to flee. She drove to East Hollywood, to the Immaculate Heart of Mary and lit every candle that wasn’t already lit. She was there, on her knees in the silence, for half an hour before she felt the priest approach.
Felt him approach like she’d felt Nails come onto the balcony.
“I’ve not seen you in some time. How have you been?”
“Very well, Father Peter.”
“But not so well today? Did something happen?” he asked, taking the seat on that bench at the opening of the nook.
“People who admit to fantastic things happening to them are ridiculed. They are pointed at as mentally disturbed or kooky. They are charlatans and con artists. Real psychics never say a word about what they see.”
“Except to that one trusted soul they know will never think they are kooky or a con artist. That one trusted soul who takes what they say at face value.”
Silence as she followed Yoda’s advice to feel the force around her. She sensed no deception in him, hoped she could trust her instincts.
“I touched a carving at an estate sale today and it showed me a world that existed here five hundred years ago. The Tongva Indian society, I think. I saw the people and how they lived. I smelled the sea air. So much cleaner than this stinking fog today. I tasted the food and the water, and felt the chill of the breeze because it was early in the morning.”
“The experience has unsettled you? Made you feel anxious? Maybe a little afraid because you know what has happened to the Indians?”
“Maybe.”
She heard voices coming in. Mass was going to begin soon. She stood, took one more glance over the candles.
“Might I have your name this time?” he asked.
She eyed him, harsh and dark with her heaviness not fully dispelled.
“Rose.”
She drove to the beach, a walk on the pier sounding like a good idea. This time when the stranger with the brown hair and blue eyes approached her, she wasn’t anxious about it. She didn’t have that same instinct to push him away. She accepted his invitation to dinner, the meal being corndogs and french fries on the pier in the middle of everyone. They walked in the sunset up and down the beach, talking, and she accepted his invitation to a better supper the following night.
After that meal, at a nice but not expensive restaurant on the beach, he asked if they could have dinner Wednesday and go to a movie.
“I work all day Wednesday,” she smiled. “And Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I’m only available Monday, Tuesday and sometimes Thursday, but not always because I sometimes need to rest Thursday.”
“Oh?”
“My employer keeps me out late sometimes. I take a cooking class now and then on Tuesday and Thursday. It’s two hours in the morning and/or the afternoon, depending which class.”
“Can I look forward to a home cooked meal at some point?” he asked.
“Maybe. But not at my home. I don’t bring men to my apartment, so it would have to be at yours. I can’t say there might be a future with me because I don’t know what my future is going to be. I’m not looking at the future at the moment anyway. I’m enjoying a little peace for a while. Right now I’m making a fuckton of money for remarkably little work and I really like it that way.”
“Well, I can’t really bring you to my place. I have roommates and they can be dicks sometimes.”
“Get your own place,” she said, flat and emotionless. “Because I’m not going to be getting hotel rooms. I need to get home. I’ll have to be to work before noon and it’s a drive up into the hills.”
“Not even a kiss goodnight?” he asked when she turned away.
“Maybe next time,” she replied, not turning back.
He watched her go, watched her walk between buildings to a parking lot.
“That went well,” Jerry said, having crossed the boardwalk.
“She’s a tough nut to crack,” Alen said in return. “Why does Earnol care so much that we make contact this soon? She’s months away.”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t explain himself to me very often. She’s important to him, is all. Important enough that we are to gain her trust now. That’s all I can get out of him.”
“I need to get an apartment out here. I won’t be able to explain why my apartment is in Iowa.”
“I’ll find one for you soon as I can. We can be dicks, can we?”
Alen eyed him sideways. “Yes. You can. I’ll be home later.”
He walked the other direction and out to the pier. Jerry went between buildings and teleported back to the space station.
Not quite ready to go home,Tyler was drawn to a French restaurant around the corner from her building. She reached the door right as the chef was coming out to lock up for the night. She recognized him, with his short but unruly dark hair, dark mustache and green eyes.
“Ah, damn. I was hoping to get a chocolate mousse to take home.”
“Only a chocolate mousse?” he smiled.
“I already had supper. I just wanted that one you make with brandy in it. I was going to eat it very slowly while masturbating over the next hour or so.”
His smile turned into a grin. “What a lucky mousse it would be.”
“I’ll try to remember your hours and come back when you’re open,” she said, turning away.
“Come inside. I’ll get you one on the house. But only if you come back another night and tell me what a lovely time my mousse has tonight.”
“Deal,” she grinned.
He unlocked the door and turned off the alarm, locking it once more when she stepped in. Through the dark dining room to the kitchen and he turned on
one set of lights. Reaching into the dessert cooler while she lifted herself to sit on a prep table, he pulled out a glass goblet of brandy chocolate mousse. Next to it was a bowl of whipped cream made only half an hour before close. He spooned a large dollop onto the mousse and held the goblet out to her.
“You’ll have to promise to bring the dish back.”
“Why don’t we share it now. Then you won’t have to worry about the goblet.”
Eye to eye, his mustache twitching, and he reached between her legs for a spoon on the shelf below. Standing between her thighs, he fed her a spoonful. As the airy mousse melted on her tongue, she shivered a bit with the braingasm, her nipples popping out against her thin tank top.
“Mmm, that’s the spot,” she all but moaned.
“Chocolate gets you that intensely?” he asked, enjoying the outline of her small nipples.
“Good chocolate does,” she replied with a smile. “But it has to be really good. Corner store crap doesn’t work.”
He fed her another spoonful and ate one himself.
“Is it my chocolate that is turning you on or are you accustomed to seducing chefs in their own kitchens?” he asked, giving her another bite.
She chuckled, the mousse melting in her mouth before she would swallow it.
“I don’t think anyone seduces you,” she said, leaning back on her hands so her breasts were better presented. “I think you see something you like and you take it. Otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting on your prep table.”
“Would that be a bad thing? To take you?”
She flexed her stomach to hold herself up, and pulled on the shirt to expose her breasts for him. “Not at all.”
A smear of chocolate mousse on a nipple and he bent over to suck it from her.
“I would prefer a more comfortable spot,” he said. “Would you?”
“If it’s not far.”
He took her by the hand through the kitchen to his small office. Through another door and she saw what used to be part of the office had been sectioned into a small sleeping room. Twin size bed with burgundy and black comforter and sheet set, a lamp on a small table.
“For just such emergencies?” she asked.
“For very late nights when it doesn’t pay to drive all the way home,” he said, shutting the door.
She reached past him to lock it and his hands went down over her short denim skirt to pull it up. Gripping her buttocks, he pulled her against himself.
“Kiss my skin. Not my lips,” she said, turning her cheek when he leaned in to kiss her.
He lifted her, turned to the bed to drop her onto her back. Button open, zipper down, and he stripped the denim skirt off her. There he slowed, the palm of his hand rubbing over her blonde fur. She bent her knees, opening in invitation. His finger traced a bruise on her bottom.
“What is this from?”
She grinned. “My employer spanks very hard sometimes.”
“How much does he pay you to allow that?”
“Enough.”
“What would you charge me to allow me to do that?”
“I owe you, remember? For the cost of the chocolate mousse with brandy.”
He kicked his shoes off, undressed.
“No,” he said when she reached to take off her tank top. “Leave that on.”
He was on the bed, kneeling between her thighs, and then he was in her hard and deep. She fucked him back equally as hard, lost in a need that had to be extinguished.
“Ma petite concubine. Acheté pour le prix d'une mousse. Petite chatte.”
My little concubine. Bought for the price of a mousse. Little pussy.
She giggled. “Je ne l'ai jamais été appelé petite chatte avant.”
I’ve never been called little pussy before.
He halted, looked down on her in the lamplight.
“You speak French?”
“Oui. So keep talkin’ dirty, mon chef de vigoureux. Baise-moi dur.”
My lusty chef. Fuck me hard.
Closer to three in the morning he showed her to the door. Inside the outermost door of the restaurant, with the remainder of the chocolate mousse topped off in a to-go cup in her hand, he slipped his fingers up her puss. In the darkness of the vestibule, with people walking by scant feet away, he nearly fisted her for several minutes.
“Come back whenever you have a taste for my mousse,” he said, stopping to unlock and open the door.
“I will,” she smiled, and went to her car.
Around the corner and into the garage and she rode alone in the elevator to her floor. Vigorous he had been, but she still had to pop off her clit before she could sleep.
“You were with someone else last night,” Thomas said as they parted their hug-greeting.
“I told you I would when I chose to. I douched for you. I’m all fresh and clean.”
“You knew you were going to be here and you still fucked someone else?”
“Thomas,” she stopped short. “Tuesday is all my time. So is Wednesday morning before I get here. You agreed to my terms that I could be with someone else when I’m not with you. That you didn’t think I’d actually do it is not my problem. I’ll go home if you’re going to be an ass.”
“No,” he said quickly, capturing her arm. “You’re here. You’ll stay here. We have a dinner this evening and should practice our dancing.”
Which he made her do for an hour, in the nude in her heels, with her torso and tits trussed up in tight rope. The next hour she spent with a vibrating egg up her ass while he spanked the daylights out of her with a hairbrush.
“Why are you punishing me?” she demanded, loud and sudden.
“This isn’t punishment, Tyler. Punishment would have been to send you home.”
“Yes it is! You’re still mad I fucked someone else. Get over it.”
“Why should I get over it?” he asked, and flipped her over onto her back. “I’d rather torture you with your own needs.”
He stabbed into her, the egg still vibrating inside her anus, and chuckled at the new noises she made under the influence of these new sensations. He edged her clit while fucking her ass from behind, and stopped short of her climaxes to prevent her from having any. By the time he told her to dress for the dinner, she was a bundle of raw sexual nerves and beside herself.
Dinner and dancing at a charity function held in an expensive hotel were only part of the fun. Afterward, he took her up to the private suite he’d reserved. Three other men arrived over the following half hour and Thomas informed her she was to be their sex slave until they were done with her. Sometime on Sunday. She recognized Emile from that first trip to France but did not know the other two.
“Time to renegotiate the money,” she said directly to Thomas and in front of them.
He smiled, eyes narrowing in a way that might have meant danger with some other man. With a toss of his head, he sent the other three onto the balcony to give them privacy to negotiate her new price.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the chaise on which she was lounging.
“I’m thinking a thousand dollars an hour until you return me to my door. That’s the price from tonight on whether it’s you alone or up to three extras. More than four men total and it bumps to five K an hour.”
He agreed, having expected she was going to ask for much more. They took turns with her all night, not doing anything more exotic than anal and some more spanking of her already bruised bottom.
Thursday dawned while she slept. They went about breakfast, waiting for her to wake. She rose about noon and they continued to enjoy her in turns and did whatever they chose to her. She obeyed commands to fuck or suck as pleased them. She was well-fed, allowed to sleep, but used so thoroughly through the rest of the weekend that she was too stiff, sore and tired to drive herself home.
Monday morning, after letting her sleep alone all night in a room on the other side of the hotel suite, Thomas rode with her in silence in his limousine. He rode the el
evator up to her floor, walked her to her door. He put her back to it, leaned on his left side against the door to block her from any accidental eyes.
“I make it ninety six hours from Wednesday night to Sunday night,” she said. “Plus another twelve to this morning. One hundred and eight hours is one hundred and eight thousand dollars.”
He thrust fingers up into her, thumb pinching her clit against his index finger to hear her pained squeal and watch her struggle not to cry out.
“Your money will be deposited in six thousand dollar increments into a second account until it’s paid in full,” he promised. “Fuck anyone you want, love. Just know you will pay for it in service to me.”
She smiled, a sly expression that spoke many devious thoughts. His fingers slipped out and she went inside. He watched her close the door, and sucked his fingers all the way down in the elevator. She was beyond delicious.
She went directly to bed to sleep as long as she felt like sleeping, and spent all of Monday and Tuesday resting in bed or on the sofa with the television, her journal and her weed. She’d been getting it from her Jack-buying friend at karaoke night.
“She is still bondedto the human Tiberius, Odin,” Emile/Morpheus said when Thomas returned to the hotel room. “The four of us should have been able to break their bond, so it’s still too soon.”
“And too strong. I know,” Odin sighed hard and harsh, knowing Hades’ bond with her wasn’t making it any easier. “Damn it. I did not know Tiberius had absorbed the staff’s energy already.”
“None of us did,” Krotos replied. “You’d think we’d have felt it.”
“She has an exceptionally strong will, even if she doesn’t fully realize it,” Carius said. “Maybe we should take her for full and permanent confinement now. I think we should bring her along ourselves rather than leave any of it to chance. She’s obviously going into her sexual evolution with hormones blazing. She couldn’t stop herself last night even when she hurt too much to continue. That kind of blind lust is dangerous to her own safety. It’s going to get her into trouble.”
“She has too much inner development to go through yet,” Odin denied, seeing his son Thor arrive. “She would resist. So long as she knows she has the option to go home to her own apartment, she’s fine. Take that away and the minute she realizes she’s a captive, it’s over.”