Her words, more thoughts spoken out loud than a question for Abigail, caused Sven’s cock to deflate at once. Both women laughed again. “Oh, Sven, don’t worry. I’m only talking about it. I’m not sure it’s something I need to do.”
But the seed was planted in her mind and Sven probably knew it. His cock hung limply between his legs. It irritated Gloria and she knew just what would fix it. “Sven,” she barked, “service me.” She spread her legs.
Abigail snapped her fingers at Brian and moved back to her former position on the couch. He dove back underneath her short red skirt and started licking her anew.
Sven dropped down to his knees and carefully unfastened the lower part of his mistress’s bustier and moved it out of the way, exposing her naked loins to him. He dipped down and ran his tongue lightly across the closed slit, just as he’d been trained to do.
Thanks to his mistress’s careful training, Sven could make love to a woman for hours, beginning with his touch on her sensitive skin, then using his lips and tongue in all her erogenous zones until she was a puddle of muscle and flesh, her bones poking through her skin. Only then would he tease his hard cock into her sopping wet canal to bring her to new heights of pleasure. The man was a dream.
Gloria let Sven’s tongue work its magic while her mind drifted to the problem of this Carl fellow. She didn’t want the intrusion, she just couldn’t help it—she had taken Carl because Turk probably would’ve killed him. She didn’t have that meanness within her, thank god. She was a lover, not a fighter, although she didn’t hesitate to use whatever means necessary to train her slaves.
But that brought her back to Carl’s innate character. Not all men were like Sven and Brian, of that she was very clear. Turning Carl into a pleasure slave might not be possible. Then what? Send him back to Turk to be killed? Wouldn’t that just make her an accomplice to murder?
Sven’s gentle tongue worked home, bringing her mind back to the present. She could feel her clit sigh and extend like a reluctant maiden. Gloria noted she was still a bit tender from their energetic session last night—having a new slave in her dungeon always made her horny and she had taken it out on her trusty Sven. Now she wanted Sven to slow down. She reached up and pushed down the demi-cups of her bustier.
“Sven,” she said. “Nipples.”
Immediately, Sven moved up over her stomach to attach his soft, pulpy lips onto her right nipple. He nibbled and sucked for a few minutes until it extended to its full length, then he moved to the left.
Gloria marveled at how well Sven knew her body. He was so well-trained, he could sense her needs with a touch or a word, always bringing her to orgasm after orgasm. She was never going to let this man go.
She found her mind wandering again, to the first time Sven came to be her slave. He had been a raw immigrant, working as a bouncer in one of Hank’s clubs. She could tell right away he wasn’t a fighter. He’d been drawn to the lifestyle because he couldn’t help himself, and took the first job that was offered. He was a lousy bouncer; that much became evident.
When Hank threatened to fire him, Gloria had stepped in and “suggested” he come stay with her for a while. He had accepted gratefully, not knowing that they were both embarking on a symbiotic relationship.
It had started out innocently enough. Since Gloria didn’t charge him rent, he had to work it off somehow, she told him. She began by making him sweep up, cook dinners and draw her baths. All the while, she teased him with the possibility that he’d get laid in the end, though she didn’t give in. Yes, he could’ve forced himself on her, but he never did, out of respect for her and realizing the power she had over him.
She used that power to push him further and further along toward slavery, without his even being fully aware of it. Of course, she suspected this was what he had really wanted all along. It was more of a game they played. She would exert more control over him and he would acquiesce, bobbing his head in submission.
Soon, she had him vacuuming her home dressed only in an apron, his cock pressing against the flimsy material. Something about a man doing household chores naked or nearly so really turned her on—she couldn’t explain it.
He was a highly sexual creature, so Gloria could use the carrot of her body against the stick of “punishments” for disobedience. The punishments were usually slaps on his bare bottom, but it was enough to correct this thinking. His main motivation was the promise that she might give in to him, if he behaved himself.
That’s how she got him to wear the collar and cuffs. She had explained that because he was so much bigger and stronger than she was, she needed a way to control him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t feel comfortable having him in her home. He readily agreed—anything to stay a while longer in her presence, to perhaps one day explore the pleasures of her flesh.
Gloria then attached a leash to his collar and led him around, getting him used to being under her control. He didn’t seem to mind, especially when she wore short skirts that flashed her ass at him while they walked.
Her body proved to be a powerful weapon to further his obedience. Her favorite training method was to chain him by his collar to the wall then slowly strip just out of his reach, displaying her body to him and promising the delights to come. After that, he seemed eager to learn.
The first time she let him touch her was only with his hands cuffed behind his back. He lay on the bed, squirming over his hard-on, while she teased him just out of reach, making him watch her undress. When she pulled her panties off, she knew he was ready to please her—his tongue was already out, licking his upper lip. Gloria had kept her riding crop handy as she scooted closer to his face, telling him he had to do exactly what she told him to do, or he’d feel the lash of the leather.
Within a few weeks, she had him tongue-trained to bring her to multiple orgasms. A month after that, she allowed him to fuck her for the first time—but only on her terms. He had to stroke her, caress her, encourage her and bring her to several orgasms for an hour or more before she would allow him to enter her.
What a woman wouldn’t pay for man like that! Not that she’d ever sell him. She had hoped Carl could be trained, but she was beginning to have her doubts. He seemed too wild and too much in control at the same time. Some men were just like that. Perhaps she could start his training then sell him to someone overseas. Someone with more severe training techniques. Yes, that might work.
The orgasm began to build, drawing her attention away from the problem downstairs and back onto Sven’s insistent tongue. She rode it like a surfer toward a shining goal. In seconds, she was shuddering with relief.
Next to her, Gloria could hear Abigail approaching her own orgasm, her voice rising in octaves. Ahh, this was the life, Gloria mused. Why couldn’t all women live this way?
Chapter Seventeen
DeeDee huddled in her cell, dried tears on her face. She had wept after Carl had been taken away, but only after she had been returned to the dungeon. She dared not show her tears to Master Turk. The one tear that had fallen while she was fellating him she had managed to wipe away before he’d noticed.
Now, hours later, she tried to sort out her thoughts. She had enjoyed her life with Master Stephen. He had awakened this need within her that, on one level, took control of her life. But somehow, it was always a game. She felt she could stop anytime just by putting on underwear. It was like their safe word. When Stephen died, she thought she had been ready to let that lifestyle die with him.
Dating Charlie, then Frank may not have been the wisest choices for boyfriends after Stephen, but at least it had given her a look at traditional male-female relationships. After all, she’d been with Stephen since college.