Novella
SERVANT TWO-THIRTY-SIX CHAPTER 4(Mg* Pedo Inc Cons & Non-cons BDSM MC Anal)By Phil E. Hebe
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright 2010 with all rights expressly reserved by the author unless otherwise explicitly granted. You are free to distribute this story to other venues, providing that you retain the author's name, this notice of copyright, and a link to the original page(s) where you found it. You are NOT free to sell or use this story in any venue which charges any fees to readers without the express written consent of the author.
This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community where you view such material, please leave now. This story and its characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, sex between minors and adults, or any other situation, please check the story codes before reading the text.
Chapter 4
On the way home, anything I asked about her training she ignored. I finally got the message. "I see your hair is down to the small of your back."
"They wove in hair extensions so I was in compliance with the rules."
"It looks good."
"Thank you. They had to special order it because it is so light."
The only time her hair was up in the French twist was when she was auctioned. Then for two weeks it was combed straight down her back in her normal length and after that it reached the top of her buttocks.
I was glad to have her home again. She put her stuff in her room and changed clothes.
"I'm going down to see Darlene," she informed me.
"OK, just remember, say nothing about the Club."
"Don't worry I won't."
Darlene was Sharon's best friend. She lived down the block with her father and was a year younger than Sharon. He was a plumber and I used him every time I needed one on the job. His wife ran off with the plumber's helper. The joke on the job was that he really got the raw end of the deal; he lost a damn good plumber's helper. It was a mixed marriage, he was a light skinned black and she was white. That made Darlene a mulatto, a word one doesn't hear much lately. Mulatto or not, Darlene is a very pretty girl.
Sharon came home just in time for supper. We ate and talked. I brought her up to date on everything that was happening in the neighborhood. We talked about her time at the Club. She would not talk about the specifics of her training or say anything about members of the Club.
"Doesn't it bother you to be naked in front of all those men?"
"I like being naked in front of them. They tell me how pretty I am, some even say I am beautiful."
Of course, I always thought she was beautiful, but I refrained from telling her for fear it would go to her head. Perhaps I was wrong in doing that.
We cleared the supper table and loaded the dish washer.
"Don't start it yet," referring to the dishwasher, "I am going to take a quick shower," she said.
"Fine with me," I said
She came down from her shower and stood in front of me wrapped in her robe. She slipped the knot in the sash and let the robe fall to the floor.
"You know," I said, "I have to agree with the men at the Club. You are beautiful when you're naked." There was something about that fair skin of hers and how nicely proportioned her body was with the beginning of womanhood that made her absolutely delectable.
Sharon sat down next to me, pressing her body against mine. I automatically put my arm around her and held her tight. I wanted to have sex with her. I got an erection without the need to have her suck on my finger. The seed that had been planted deep in my brain by the Club I was sure was sprouting and all I could think of was how wonderful it would feel if my cock were in her vagina.
She knelt down between my knees and unbuttoned my shirt, took that off and slid my tee shirt off over my head. She kissed and licked my chest down to my stomach, slow and sensual like. Next off were my slippers and socks. She unbuckled my belt, undid the waist button on my pants and slid the zipper down. I helped by lifting my butt off the cushion as she wiggled the pants down to my ankles and off my feet. Sharon started at my toes and kissed and licked her way up my legs. After getting up to my groin she carefully worked my underpants over my erection and off my legs.
"I love your cock," she said. "I loved it since that first day I saw you naked with an erection. I was very proud of the fact that you let me see you that way. None of the other girls at school ever saw their daddies' erections. I promised myself then that some day it would be inside me."
I had to admit that I was proud of my cock. Erect it was 6 1/2 inches long, nice and thick and well formed.
She kissed and licked my cock, sucked on it, and gave it little bites. "Harder," I said and she bit down sending pleasant waves of pain to my brain. Her tongue licked around the red rim and then poked the tip into the urethra opening. Her fingernails scratched up and down the shaft. She licked my scrotum and I let my head rest against the couch cushion, closed my eyes, and enjoyed every frigging second of it as she repeated again and again what she was doing.
Sharon crawled up and knelt on the couch. She pushed her small breast toward my mouth and said, "They want you to suck them." I obliged by taking the nipple into my mouth and sucked, licked and kissed each one. I sucked and bit the areolas until the little nipples popped out of their hiding place. Sharon stood up on the couch and with her hand propped against the wall leaned forward until her pubic mound was in my face. "Kiss it," she commanded, and I did. I did more than just kiss it, with both hands holding her buttock I licked it and pushed my tongue into the slit and licked the rippled hood.
I buried my face in her sex; it was packed with her thick inner lips and juicy. To my surprise and delight it too tasted of licorice, just like Eight-oh-one. I spent a long time down there enjoying the heat, the feel of her wet flesh against my face and the taste.
She got up and I lay down on the floor. She straddled me. The juice from her pussy dripped off her nether lips and on to my belly. She slowly let herself down until I impaled her with my cock. She tightened her vagina muscles around it and moved up pulling hard on my cock, nearly lifting me off the floor. I was so ready that I did not even have to slide it in and out. It burst inside of her. Never in my life did I have a climax as intense as that. My body took over and went into spasms. I had to hold her down by the hips least I buck her right off me. I could see she was enjoying it too, her eyes closed, her hair flying, and she was laughing as she gyrated on the shaft of my cock. Well spent, we rolled over with me still inside her and spooned together.
"Did you know your sex tastes like licorice?" I asked as I lay there trying to recuperate.
"It must be something they did to us at the Club because semen tastes like chocolate to me."
In the morning I awoke before her, crept into the bathroom and peed. I looked at my poor penis. It was red and raw. There were teeth marks where she bit it. It was hanging low and I wondered if it was possible that it was pulled out of its socket. Then I grinned. What was I thinking? There was no socket. I did not feel like dressing, did not want anything to rub against my sensitive genitals. I brushed my teeth and went to the kitchen. There I made a pot of coffee and toast. Not ten minutes later she came into the kitchen, naked, hair all disheveled, eyes half open, and still beautiful.
We stayed naked that day. We could not keep our hands off of one another, Even when she squeezed my cock sending pain waves through my body, I did not complain. No, I liked it.
We sat next to each other, she again in the crook of my arm, as we watched TV. I finally got a chance to look at the disk on the D ring of her neck band. It was a thick oblong gold charm. On one side it was engraved with the words, "SERVITUDE IS HAPPINESS." Very Orwellian I thought. On the other side it had her number, 236, stamped into it. There was no way to take the charm off. It had been put on before the D ring was affixed to the collar.
"Do you really believe servitude is happiness?"
"They taught me that my calling in life is to serve the sexual needs of the members of the Club and I am happy to do it, so yes, servitude is happiness."
We retired at the usual time, the only difference was she came in my room and climbed into bed with me. It was not frenzied like the night before. When it started out, all I wanted was a taste of licorice. I got my taste when she sat on my face and I licked her anus for good measure. Then she asked me to suck her titties. When I entered her my thought was, "This is exactly where I belong." The ejaculation was not as explosive as the night before but, never the less, quite satisfying. Afterward she cleaned me with a wet washcloth and we fell asleep spooned together.
I awoke to find Sharon tightly holding my erection. I laid there without moving. A half hour later she stirred. Without a word she positioned herself so she could slide her vagina over my cock. She was wet and ready.
"You have been thinking about it, haven't you?" I asked.
"I have been dreaming about it all night."
We laid there for the next half hour without moving. I could not get over how wonderful it felt to be inside her.
"Do you want to try the back entrance?" she asked.
"Sure, why not."
She slid off my cock and repositioned herself next to me. At first there was so much resistance I thought we could not do it, but suddenly her anus popped open and I knew it was because of the tail training. When my cock was completely inside her, she squeezed her rectum tight again. We again lay spooned together without moving for another half hour. She pulled off me and I handed her the foil pack of disinfectant wipe I copped from the Club. She used the paper cloth to carefully clean off my cock. Sharon took my penis in her mouth and sucked. She stopped and said, "Serve me breakfast," and I knew what she meant. After teasing my cock all morning it didn't take much for me to fill her mouth with semen.
She layed with her body across mine and her head on my chest.
"More than anybody else, you belong inside me. I want you to know I don't feel this way about anyone at the Club, not even Mr. Reed," she said.
"I feel exactly the same about you." I thought about her young slender body, the perfect, round, tight ass of hers; the hairless pussy; and her breasts, not flat chested like most of the servants, but the first hint of what they would become. That was when I realized I would never want a full busted woman again.
"I love you, daddy."
"I love you too sweetheart, with all my heart."
All that week we were nuts for one another, could hardly wait until the housekeeper left the premises before we started tearing at each other's clothes. I conveniently forgot all my doubts and fears, all the knowledge that incest was wrong. All I wanted was to have my cock buried deep inside her vagina. It was easy, way too easy to accept it as part of our reeducation at the Club.
Things did settle down the following week. It would have been impossible to keep up our hectic sexual pace. Being naked on the weekends made it a natural that we should spend time around the pool. We bought a couple of outdoor lounge chairs that fold flat and after slathering each other with sun block, we spent some quiet moments together before getting ourselves aroused, starting with our shower.
During one of those quiet periods, I decided to read the contract I signed a lot closer. I was interested where it mentioned wheremaster that the drunk mentioned. It was only two pages long, but slow reading for me with all the party-of-the-first-part and where as's. I finally found the wheremaster part, most of which I already knew. It concerned the qualifications to join the Club. It mentioned the 100,000 point debt and furnishing an early pubescent virgin.
When it got to divvying up the servant, it took my breath away. The wheremaster retained twenty-four-point-five percent ownership, and the rest was transferred to the Club. When the mentor successfully trained the servant he was rewarded with twenty-four-point-five percent ownership which left the Club owning fifty-one percent of the servant. It struck me then that I had, in effect, sold my daughter into servitude.
In the month at the Club, along with her reeducation she learned a heck of a lot about sexual technique. Sharon knew things at twelve that her mother never dreamed existed, and without any morals, Sharon had no problems putting them into practice. She was a tigress in bed. I found it interesting that, as my penis rose, my doubts and fears about us getting involved in the Club disappeared. The only problem was, they came right back when I was well sated.