"Why do you keep taking about being gone? I hate it! I hate hearing it! You talk about crazy things ... pills ... suicide. Why do we have to have these discussions?"
"It's time to accept reality, Lenore! I will not wither away to fucking dust! I won't die in some stinking hospice after the doctors have finally managed to convince you to take me off of life support. Why is that fair? Why do you get to decide when I die? I'm perfectly capable of deciding for myself when I'm ready, and it will not be when I no longer have the capacity to make my own choice!"
Lenore choked back her tears and James caressed her tenderly.
"Such a wet pussy," he observed. "Obviously this is for Carlos, and not me." His finger worked slowly inside of her and she shook with emotions.
Lenore closed her eyes, savoring James' touch. "You haven't touched me in months," she whispered, tears still prickling in her eyes. He caressed her with a gentleness that she'd long forgotten he was capable of. Her ragged emotions splintered, and she couldn't contain her sobs.
"Shh," James said softly, as his fingers stroked her with the skill and familiarity that their twenty years of marriage had given him. He added another finger then scissoring them forcefully, he stretched her open. "You don't want your husband's shriveled cock, no, you want that big one Carlos has, don't you?"
She shook her head.
"Look at me Lenore," he demanded.
She met his gaze through the hot fog of her tears.
"Admit the truth," James shouted, sounding like some crazed preacher. "Admit what you want, you didn't want him in your mouth, you wanted him here, didn't you? You want him to fuck you?" His words were accompanied by his fingers pulling her pussy open until it ached and burned.
"No!" She could hear the deceit in her own voice. She shook her head vehemently, tears streaking down her face.
"Yes," James said encouragingly. "Say it Lenore, admit it to me. If you still love me at all, then tell me the truth." His hand hovered for a moment longer between her thighs and then he jerked it away, leaving her sobbing and shaking. "You want to be fucked by Carlos!"
"Yes," she said, her voice breaking.
"Say it!"
"I want him to fuck me." The admission was both humiliating and liberating.
"Soon," James said softly. "You'll have him soon Lenore, but like everything else in this life, there is a price." He smiled. "You won't like the price Lenore, but you will pay it, won't you?"
"What is it?" she asked.
"You know that isn't the way this works. I will humiliate you; I will show him what a slut you are. The price is whatever I decide to put upon it, and you will pay it!" James chuckled and beamed; the corners of his eyes crinkled and her heart surged with love to see him look happy again.
"Yes Sir, I will pay it." He seemed so amused, it didn't seem like it could possibly be anything too bad.
"Anything?" James asked playfully.
"Anything, Sir."
"Good girl. You can go get dressed and fix supper now. Just for yourself, I'm afraid I'm not feeling up to eating. I think I'll lie down for a while."
"Aren't you going to tell me what it is?" she persisted.
"Surprises are always nice, aren't they?" he asked with a tired smile.
CHAPTER FOUR
Carlos stared at a rusty nail head sticking out of the old wooden paneling beside his bed. It was well after two and he was exhausted. He couldn't understand why he couldn't fall asleep.
Maybe too much in his brain. Too many thoughts, ideas, dreams...
All of Ms. Lenore.
He heard a car pull up in front of the trailer. Santiago was late tonight. Carlos wondered who had driven him back to the farm. Santi's old truck had been broken down for the past week but Santiago didn't let that stop him from going out.
Santiago seemed to have one of those lives where things just worked themselves out. He never planned ahead, he never worried, he just did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to. Carlos wished he could be more like that.
Santi would walk five miles into town after work just to go to the tavern. He didn't worry if he was going to have to walk home, and most of the time he didn't have to. Women were drawn to Santiago, they gave him rides, bought him drinks. Santi was always saying that if Carlos went with him that it would be the same for him, but Carlos couldn't be like Santi. Santiago had an obsession with finding a woman who would do anything for him.
Voices drifted down the hall. Carlos recognized the woman's voice. It was the black-haired barmaid from Bottoms Up. Her name was Dot, and Santiago spent more time with her than he did with his other girlfriends. He bragged about Dot and the things she would do for him.
Ms. Lenore would do all those things too, but only because her husband made her. But what about that letter? Had she really written those things? More importantly, did she really feel those things, or was it just some bizarre game to make her husband jealous?
Before what had happened today with Ms. Lenore, it had been a long time since he'd even touched a woman. Over two years now. The sex then hadn't been great, but he'd been through enough women to know that it was never as good as you imagined it would be. There were times when he wondered if his old girlfriend Maria really liked men at all; she definitely didn't like penetration. Carlos had never considered himself particularly well-endowed, but Maria complained when he was fully inside of her. She pulled back, and over time Carlos had learned to never push in all the way, even though there were times when he couldn't help himself. He always paid for those times. Maria would stay mad for days, complaining it hurt when she peed, or just ignoring him completely.
Sex was overrated, Carlos had decided. Oh, sure, he had enjoyed it, but not the way that he heard people speak of. It was good, but it wasn't the most spectacular thing in the world. Until today. Already he'd felt things he'd never felt before, and he knew that he was wrong.
He shouldn't care about her. Just because she treated him better than anyone else here ever had didn't change what she was. She was an American, and a wealthy one at that.
His mother had talked about America since he was little. His father was from America, just some guy who came to the bar where his mother worked. The man had fucked his mother and left her, pregnant and broke. Carlos' father was not even the same man as Magdalena's father. Another American. He'd grown up disliking Americans, and had never understood why his mother had such a fascination with the United States.
Opportunities waited in America. He wasn't sure where they waited because he sure as hell hadn't found that place yet, unless, maybe it was right here, on the Acheson's farm. This trailer was the finest place he'd ever lived. The work camps had been worse than the small shack he'd grown up in.
He'd gotten by, so far, because he blended. With the migrant workers and the men who had green cards and work visas. They were all lumped together – they were all considered cheap labor. Mexican migrant workers, spics, wetbacks ... he'd been called both and it didn't bother him; at the end of the day if he got paid, well, fuck them, he'd have money to mail or wire back home to help pay for his sister Magdalena's weekly kidney dialysis. She needed a transplant. When he'd first come here he'd hoped to earn enough money to pay for one, but without at least a work permit the only jobs he could get paid poorly.
He'd paid a man to help him get here. His trip to the land of opportunity had been in the back of a truck, with about thirty or so other people, mostly men about his own age. Sweltering in the rusty semi trailer, where the temperatures were well over a hundred and twenty, Carlos Ortiz was welcomed to the United States. His only real welcome was that he made it past the border and hadn't been shot or arrested.
He met Santiago on the first job he worked. Santi was crazy, Santi was funny, and Santi knew his way around. He'd been working in the United States for many years. He also had papers, something Carlos did not. Santiago probably could have gotten some better-paying jobs, but he'd stayed with Carlos to help him. Santiago seemed to know where to go and wher
e not to go, and so far no one had asked Carlos for any documents.
He and Santiago had been on their way further west when they'd stumbled on a bulletin board at a small farmer's market where James Acheson had posted an ad for help. He had over a hundred acres, some racehorses, cattle, and an assortment of jobs. He was the most arrogant bastard Carlos had ever met, and he also was married to the most beautiful woman Carlos had ever seen.
James was nearly intolerable, but he paid wages in cash and didn't ask a lot of questions. The farm was far enough out that Carlos didn't worry about immigration coming around and snooping. They'd all be further west bothering the other migrant workers who were picking fruit.
Carlos sat up in bed listening. Santiago was already at it with Dot. Carlos heard her whimpering and pleading and he closed his eyes trying to imagine what Santiago was doing with her.
The more he thought about it, the more his cock swelled with arousal. The images flashed into his mind as up the hall in Santi's room the old creaky bedsprings rang out. He imagined himself with Ms. Lenore, her lying naked on her back bathed in sweat, as he pounded into her again and again.
He'd had an immediate attraction to Lenore Acheson the second he saw her and he'd been trying to push it aside ever since. It was becoming more and more apparent that he wouldn't be able to do that, because the more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. He knew she was off-limits, Mr. James' wife, but the sight of Ms. Lenore sitting barefoot on the porch swing of that big house could take his breath away.
Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that James Acheson would not only allow Carlos to touch Lenore, but that he would demand it. It was still hard to comprehend what had happened today in Mr. James' office. He'd gone over it a million times in his head, half expecting to realize that he'd imagined the whole thing.
But he hadn't. No, if he had imagined everything, things would have been different, and that bastard James Acheson certainly would not have been there telling him what to do.
Lenore was the boss lady, but she didn't act like one. She had never acted rich, she had never acted superior. She was usually quiet and shy, there was nothing boss-like about her. She often lowered her eyes when he spoke with her. Submissive. Just the thought of that was enough to make him hard. He hadn't ever really given any thought to dominance and submission before Lenore Acheson.
The girl with Santiago, Dot, was unusually quiet now. Carlos got up and walked to his doorway listening. He could hear Santiago breathing, rough and unsteadily.
Silently, he moved into the hallway. The overwhelming urge to see what she was doing with Santiago made it impossible for him to stop. Santi's door was slightly ajar, and there was light streaming into the darkened hallway from inside. Carlos walked softly up the hallway and peered through the crack.
Santi was standing in front of her. The girl was kneeling on the floor in front of him, her hair spilling over her bare breasts. As she moved her hair moved, offering-tantalizing glimpses of creamy white breasts tipped with pale pink nipples. Her mouth was wrapped around Santiago's cock and his hands were gripping her head. Seeing her face being fucked by Santiago was possibly the most erotic sight that Carlos had ever witnessed. Her nostrils flared as she tried to breathe, and saliva was dribbling out of the sides of her mouth.
Carlos felt his cock stiffening as he thought of the way Ms. Lenore's mouth had felt around him.
Santiago was whining now, which was almost comical. Seeing a guy as big as Santi whining like a little boy.
Dot was coughing and sputtering as Santi held her head to his crotch tightly. Carlos could see the muscles in her neck straining as she tried to swallow.
He knew he should go and give them their privacy, but he couldn't look away from the girl kneeling at Santiago's feet. He'd never watched anything like this before. Carlos felt an odd sensation, and he looked up, meeting Santiago's eyes. He was too embarrassed to look away, and knowing he'd been caught, he just stared blankly at Santi.
Santiago grinned at him like a child who had just received the best Christmas present in the world. He stroked Dot's hair, sliding his cock from her mouth. Bending down, he took her arm, pulling her roughly to her feet, and then positioned her on the bed so that she was fully exposed for Carlos to see. Her legs were spread wide, and he could see the sheen of wetness, her swollen fleshy pinkness and open vulnerability.
She was beautiful, but nowhere near as stunning as Ms. Lenore. There was no way to appreciate the beauty of her, open and exposed like this, without comparing her to Lenore.
Santiago moved beside her, lowering his mouth to her nipple, coaxing it into a sharp point. His hand curved against her spread pussy, a finger working its way up, between her lips, seeking her opening. The length of his finger slid gradually inside of her. Carlos bit back a groan thinking of Ms. Lenore, as he watched Santiago touching Dot's pussy, its wetness weeping onto his fingers.
"I want to feel your pussy squeezing my fingers when I make you come," Santiago told her, which caused her to make a little gasping sound.
As his fingers slipped out of her, he dragged his thumb over her clit and she arched her hips, seeking more. Carlos kept watching, captivated by the sight of her eager for Santiago's touch, unaware that he was watching her. He stood on shaking legs observing the bold, unhurried way that Santiago did exactly what he wanted.
Santiago's mouth worked tirelessly at her breasts, and Dot's hand was knotted in his long hair so tightly that her knuckles were white. Santi was kissing around each nipple, licking, sucking and gently biting her breasts, leaving her chest wet with his saliva. His tongue glided over the skin around her nipples with warm, moist ease. Then he opened his mouth wide and took in a whole mouthful of Dot's breast; skin, areola, nipple and all, the flesh bulging out and overflowing around his mouth as he sucked in and pleasured her with his tongue.
Santiago's fingers were no longer delving deep inside her, just gently stroking her. She had a thick mound of hair, a jet-black triangle that sprouted up from her lips and spread upwards to perfectly frame her pussy. Santiago's fingers rubbed through it, toying around her lips and every so often his finger would gently probe the wet slit and she would arch her hips until Santiago slipped it back inside. When Santiago worked another finger into her she began pushing her hips up higher, forcing those fingers to go deeper, and to work at her pussy harder. It grew from an occasional movement to a regular thrusting into his hand as she began to moan loudly, beginning to peak, feeling the pleasure grow. His hand was now a blur now, working in and out, his thumb, swirling over her clit, while three fingers slid in and out of her. Her lips were now fully blossomed out in arousal, as Santiago's hand worked on her pussy.
A cry of pure ecstasy flowed from deep down in her throat and she tried to muffle it against Santiago's broad shoulder. Carlos watched as her pussy pulsed wetly against Santiago's hand.
Dot rolled over onto her stomach then got up on her knees raising her ass high, her breasts dangling, inviting Santiago to take her, to fuck her from behind. Carlos' cock strained against his underwear in response to her invitation. God, he wanted to do that with Ms. Lenore.
He wondered if Santiago had forgotten that he was there. Surely he wasn't going to fuck her knowing he was standing right here watching them. Carlos waited, expecting Santiago to get up and shut the door all the way, but Santiago never did.
Santi held the side of her left ass cheek with his hand and used his other to grip his erect cock, gliding his head towards her opening as he lowered himself over her, mounting her like some wild male wolf, showing his dominance and power. She was pushed down into the mattress by the weight of his body as he slid it in until the large rounded head of his cock was deep inside her, then he moved his hands up, one curling underneath her to squeeze a breast while the other hand held her hip.
He then began to work his hard shaft in and out, the muscles of his back and ass flexing and straining. After a few of these strokes to open her, he lowered himself un
til he was nearly lying over her back, her tiny form buried beneath his huge frame.
Her ass cupped the skin between his cock and his stomach, pressed tightly against the flat of Santiago's abdomen. Carlos watched, as if he were hypnotized. Santi began increasing the tempo and vigorousness of his thrusting, pounding down smoothly, ramming his cock in and out of her.
The bed began to shake as the speed and force Santiago used became harder and more frantic. Gone were the gentle, slow motions of the first few moments of their joining, replaced with an energetic display of pure lust.
Her hips now moved with his, with just the small amount of movement the position and his weight afforded her. The beautiful cheeks of her ass jiggled each time he thrust into her. He let go of her breast and instead grabbed her other arm and held it out to the side, curling his fingers around hers. He placed his other hand on the mattress by her head, using it to support some of his weight as he let his chest rest fully over her back, his ass moving into the air as it took control and pounded his swelled head up and down inside the walls of her opening, his balls slapping loudly with each thrust.
Her head had been turned to the side but now she buried her face into the pillow as Carlos watched another orgasm swell from inside her. It escaped her with a muffled moan of pleasure into the pillow. Her hand pulled out from under her to clench at the other pillow by her head, her fingers grasping and clawing it.
The headboard was slamming against the wall from the force of Santiago's fierce thrusts. The old box springs, bed frame, and wall all sounded out their creaking protests as he repeatedly buried himself inside her. He arched himself back, then thrust his cock inside her as hard and far as his strong muscles could push it, crushing Dot against the mattress. Sweat was running down Santiago's back as a guttural, primal sound erupted from his throat.
Mastered by the Hired Man Page 7