A Slave to Desire Read online

  A Slave to Desire

  By Roxanne Fox

  Published by Roxanne Fox at Smashwords

  Copyright 2013 Roxanne Fox

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  Warning: this story contains adult content. All persons depicted are over the age of 18.

  Cover photo © Sergey Kolesnikov/123RF

  Chapter 1

  “Matthew, I found your backpack!” My voice carried up the stairs to my youngest son who was running behind, as usual.

  “Thanks mom.” He beamed at me as he came bounding down from his room, his silver eyes sparkling in his tanned face topped with his father’s ash brown hair; I never held it against him that he looked exactly like the bastard.

  “You know,” I leaned over to zip up his coat, “if you put it where you were supposed to you wouldn’t need me to find it.”

  His smile was quick to come, I adored all three of my children and they knew it. “I know. Is my lunch in there?” He slung the bag over his shoulder.

  “Yep, strawberry BP&J no crust, just the way you like.” I planted a small kiss on his cheek as he thanked me for the sandwich.

  Standing to watch him catch the bus, pulling in front of our modest home to wait for him, he ran out across the yard and passed our apple trees to board the yellow monster. Waving to Ms. Sanders as she let him get on I smiled, happy the last of my offspring were out of the house and at school. It was time for my real day to begin.

  The front door clicked shut, cutting off the sound of the bus’ diesel engine as it drove away. Stepping away from it, I began untying the straps of my pink and white checked apron as I walked through the quiet home to my room. Aprons were a common sight on me whenever I was at home; the pink one I had put on that morning for my regular dish routine. It’s not like I was some stepford wife—you actually have to be wife to be that—but I did enjoy wearing an apron when I cleaned and cooked. They kept my clothes from getting messy and helped to perpetrate an image I upheld in my close community; one of a happy single mother that enjoyed BBQ’s, hosting sleepovers for her teen daughter and son—separately of course—and play dates with the youngest. There was truth in the image, don’t get me wrong I loved all of those things, but there was another side of me that my neighbors—and family—didn’t know.

  Once in my room I tossed the apron in the hamper and stripped out of my purple t-shirt and blue-jeans, as well as my cotton bra and non-matching panties. My clothes joined the apron in the hamper as I entered the master bathroom. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at the sight of my body; toned and tan with high tits only money could buy.

  My body was what I called my “payment” from the divorce, well that and technically the house I bought. My ex-husband agreed to the amount of money I demanded, not knowing or caring what I would do with it, when I promised not to sue for half his income and only collect child support and not alimony from him in the future.

  A small laugh escaped my full lips as I entered the shower to wash my thick honey-red hair, a rich natural color handed down from my mother, and supple curves. Every time I viewed my body I was reminded of the first time my ex husband saw me following the divorce—finally visiting his children after almost a year. The fat ass he complained about, lazy disgusting slob of a wife that was only good for cooking and stuffing her fat face—a size sixteen isn’t that big folks—had turned into a size five. The fact my new figure was even better than the figure on his new woman he had with him at the time had made the reveal even sweeter. Of course that woman, and every one since, didn’t last long.

  I hope he enjoyed the crow he ate that day. The pain he put me through, the constant berating with hateful words, the hurtful sexual acts he would make me do—what he called his revenge for having to fuck me—made me want my own form of revenge; to be what he wanted when he could no longer have me. As I lathered my body, feeling the full double-d breasts I had, firm like no thirty-eight year old woman’s tits should be, I relished in the fact that I alone decided who enjoyed it now.

  My hand traveled down to my shaven pussy, between my lips, to my clit where I stroked and pinched it between my fingers. Biting back a sigh, my breath hitched and I pulled my hand away, making myself wait. It was nearly time to leave for work.

  There was an unexpected side effect to gaining the body of a twenty year old, one I would have for a very long time if I didn’t eat like crap and I went to the gym four days a week, and that was an increased libido. Okay hell, let’s be honest here, I was fucking horny all the time. On the weekends when my children were with their father I started going to dance clubs, but it was still hard to find someone to readily fuck each time so I began going to different kinds of clubs; sex clubs.

  Remembering my time at the clubs, how I would fuck people or be fucked in private rooms or right on the dance floor, what it was like to be held up on some stranger’s cock as I watched other couples in booths fucking and sucking each other, all had my pussy tingling. It was all I had in me not to masturbate in the shower imaging all those dicks in me, sometimes more than one, thrusting and pounding, stretching my flesh. I would have my release soon enough and it was best if I didn’t waste such a glorious orgasm—one I felt building on thought alone—all by myself.

  Rinsing my hair I felt the need to hurry along so I could get to work faster. The part of my life that my neighbors didn’t know about me, my ex wasn’t privy to, even my children didn’t know, was that I didn’t go away to some fantastic job in the city as a secretary/personal assistant like I said I did. My job was very different than that. It was still in the city, still fantastic, and paid better than any other job I could get, but I didn’t come by it the normal way.

  The water trickled off as I turned the knob and opened the glass enclosure entering the fog shrouded room. Grabbing one of the plush towels hanging near the glassed in shower I bent to wrap it around my hair, the tight pulling sensation flashed an image in my mind of me wrapping my body in latex for the first time. A second towel went around my body as I breathed in the moist air of the bathroom, calming myself so I could prepare for my fake job. I left the house each day dressed as I should be for the job everyone thought I had; there was no way I could leave in what my real job required.

  Where I really worked was presented to me while in a sex club. I was told it was a place like no other, one where I could be what I wanted be and do what I wanted to do and be paid very large sums of money for it. When my random sex partner offered me the position I thought the name of the company on the small black card with silver grey writing would be Heaven, or Fantasy Island, but instead it was a place called Grautönen; a German word I later learned meant “shades of gray.”

  Chapter 2

  “You fucking shit, worthless pig. Beg for it!” The sound of leather hitting flesh rang through my ears to trail down my body and pull at my core.

  “Please Mistress.” The welt on Walter’s cheek moved as he spoke and was as ruby as his nose.

  Snot ran down from it and over his lips to drip off his chin. The blindfold that was tied behind his balding head was wet at the front too exposing the tears he cried as I abused him. Putting the end of the crop under his chin I coaxed his head up so he could face me even if he couldn’t see me through the thick, white, satin fabric.

  “Please what, you sniveling worm.”


  “Please let me eat your pussy.”

  The pussy he wanted twitched at the thought of being in his fat lips set in his round ugly face atop his round ugly body. He looked exactly like his career would suggest: a sleazy lawyer who would do what it took to get his clients free, innocent or not, as long as the price was right. At least, that is what Walter’s stories to the desk clerk, and my BFF Ricki, suggested. With that said, I wasn’t attracted to him in any way, but I was however attracted to the power I held over him, especially since he was supposed to have held power over others; a power he abused in the legal system.

  In my domain he held no power, only I did. I chose if he could touch me and where. I chose if I let him eat me and for how long and maybe, just maybe if he was lucky enough, I would choose to fuck his disgusting cock. They were all my choices, in my hands, I held the power.

  His cock would be forgotten for today, as it was every other day—unless I was kicking him in it that is—but my pussy ached to be touched and with the long weekend over, a weekend my children were home and not with their dad, Monday and my first client hadn’t come soon enough.

  Grabbing the poor excuse for hair at the top of his head I wrenched his neck back and stepped up to him, bringing my hot aching sex close. Walter might have been in his disheveled suit, his red paisley tie already undone and hanging loose when he arrived at Grautönen complaining to Ricki about a case that had him working all night on a Sunday, but I was in red latex. The plastic like dress clung to my body and shined like a candied apple but left my tits and sex exposed. The red lace panties I had worn were long gone, having been used to gag Walter with earlier, but my garters and fishnet stockings were still in place, as well as my knee high platform boots that matched the dress and had me standing five inches taller than my usual stature of five foot-four. All my work shoes were high platforms so my pussy would be right at most of my clients’ faces when they were on their knees in a prone position. Walter was no exception.

  “Beg for it again dog and I might let you have a taste.” My voice was malicious, uncaring—I never let my own desire show unless it was part of the game—and sounded different than my normal one so my clients couldn’t recognize me by it when I shopping or at the park.

  “Please let me have a taste Mistress. Eating your pussy is all I dream about.” He licked his lips as if the nearness of my cunt and the smell of the juices flowing from it must be unbearable to him.

  Last time he visited I didn’t let him have it. Instead, I rode his fingers and came all over his pants because he asked for my cunt out of turn. The reminder of who was in control must have been enough because that was only the Friday before.

  The sound of the crop as it hit the floor made Walter jump but I could see a hint of a smile as his face flushed a red, almost matching the marks I had made on his cheeks, hinting that he knew what was to come. Pushing his head back against the curved leather “seat”—one of many custom made sex furniture pieces I had in my collection—Walter was able to stay on his knees but have lower lumbar support against the free standing back as he rested his head against it.

  He was ready as I straddled his face preparing to make him eat my pussy with perfect precision. He wasn’t perfect at first, it took many training sessions and sending him home with pornos of lesbians, but he was darn perfect after almost a year and I knew if he was ever to find a real woman and get married she would be more than pleased with what he learned in my chamber.

  “You may begin Walter.” I only ever said his name when I allowed him to touch me in some way.

  “Thank you Mistress,” was all he said before greedily accepting my twat.

  Walter kept his hands at his sides like the good slave he was trained to be as I braced myself with one hand on the bar above us and used the other to spread my lips wide. Pressing the tingling flesh—just thinking of forcing him to eat my pussy had my cunt throbbing—to Walter’s lips, he began lapping at the soft folds like a hungry animal whose only food was the nectar which flowed from my fragrant valley. My hand grasped tight to the bar as I steadied my breath, enjoying how his tongue would glide along my smooth lips and probe my opening, thick like a cock and better suited to make a woman cum than the tiny thing in his pants, before going back to my swelling lips.

  After his skilled tongue was thrust inside me a few more times the tip traveled back passed my taint to tickle my anus. While he tasted the sensitive hole he moaned as I ground against him, but when he licked a trail from my ass to my core it was all I had in me to not let out a moan of my own. Once there he sucked and rubbed it with the front and back of his tongue, flicking the tip over the active kernel, prompting the flesh to harden and grow larger. When the clit was firm and sticking out, larger than most women’s clits, Walter proceeded to lick circles around it as he latched down on my sex using suction.

  Letting go of the sides of my cunt, and the bar above me, I grabbed his bald head and rode my orgasm; grinding against his puckered lips, engorged from pleasuring me. He moaned again as I came hard; hot fluid rushing out of me and around his face, covering the front of him. Walter’s tongue didn’t stop for a second, learning to keep going until I gave the command, as I rode another wave of pleasure when it rolled over the last causing me to cum again.

  Groaning out at last I let go of him saying it was enough and stepped back. He stayed put, only bringing his head away from the cushioned support to face forward, and waited for instruction. The sight of him panting, his meager erection straining at the zipper of his slacks had my already used clit twitching for more.

  “Take your cock out.”

  Walter didn’t hesitate, he knew the chance was there, if I wished it, for me to touch him—he had signed the paper allowing me as much—but he never knew if it was going to happen so he was quick to show me his dick whenever I asked.

  “Good. Now stroke it, jerk yourself off thinking about my pussy in your mouth.”

  “Yes Mistress,” he said, his voice barely a whisper as his hand began running the short length up then back down his dick.

  Snatching up my crop, I placed it on the small cart with other objects like it and sat back in my red velvet lounge with my legs spread wide to watch the show. Walter knew not to cum until I told him and with his dick already being so hard I could tell it was an effort for him to comply. Watching his struggle turned me on even more as I stroked my hard clit coaxing another orgasm from me.

  “Rub it harder, I want you to beg to cum, I want your dick to hurt so bad with the need for release that you feel like you might pass out.”

  Walter complied like a good slave, stroking and pulling more vigorously on his miniscule dick. Watching it strain, getting even larger—the veins pushing at the sides, becoming more visible—matched the strain I could see in the rest of his body. New sweat beaded on his balding head, then ran down his temple, around his cheek, soaking his loose collar.

  My pussy ached for more, making me wish his dick was bigger, something that would get me off better than a hand or a mouth, but I knew it wouldn’t. Phasing out Walter, I thought of a huge cock pounding my aching hole with a skilled man behind it spreading my pussy wide, then my ass, and my mouth. The images of being taken by a faceless man had me bucking and cumming again on my lounge and when grunted efforts came from the other side of the room I remembered Walter and the state he was in.

  “Have your release,” I commanded and the man came in a hot gush of fluid all over his slacks as he thanked me repeatedly.

  Sighing to myself, knowing the masturbation and pussy eating still wasn’t enough to sate the need in me, I stood and went to Walter, helping him to his feet before leading him to the exit. Clients came in the chambers blindfolded and ready; what they wore could be, and was usually, a mess or even destroyed by the time they left. It was understood that at times your cock may be hanging out when you exited, but I was nice and did up Walter’s pants before releasing him to Ricki who was waiting on the other side, ready to direct the other man to the
washroom available for clients.

  Ricki gave me wink as he collected Walter telling the old guy he looked ready for a long nap at home. As soon as the door shut I flicked on my screen, which showed the lobby, and watched Walter enter the bathroom before exiting minutes later. He spoke to Ricki who nodded a few times and shook his head then collected a small box from the man. Walter left as I threw on my robe, ready to hang out with Ricki and get my gift—what the packages usually were that Walter gave him.

  “Oh girl, that man is in love with you.” Ricki was always gushing.

  “Aren’t they all,” I said as I took the small, blue leather box from him.

  Ricki hopped up on the counter, his cerulean eyes sparkled under dark eyebrows, which were sculpted to perfection and arched in excitement. “What is it? Open it up!”

  Shaking my head I laughed at him. Ricki always seemed more thrilled with the gifts I got than I was, of course since I tended to give some to him it was understandable. I adored the man, calling him my gay boyfriend, and had even made him part of the family under the guise that I met him in the mail of the building I worked at.

  The new hinge creaked as I opened the present revealing a diamond tennis bracelet and solitaire pendant with a gem that was at least a karat in size. Shaking my head again a smile touched the corner of my mouth even though I felt a little sad for Walter and the money he spent on me. The squeals that came from Ricki said he didn’t share my sentiment.

  Holding up the bracelet I looked at the more thrilled man standing next to me. “You know if he put as much money and effort into a real woman as he did me, Walter would be happily married by now.”

  “Please Lynette.” Ricki snatched the bracelet from me to try on. “He’s one of those men who would think a wife had to do what she is told and not spend an ounce of attention on her.”