Dreams and Desires (26 page)

"Let's say I can make that go away, Chuck. Anna would forgive you and never bother you about any of your affairs ever again. She would become a sweet little wife, suck you off whenever you wanted it, fuck your friends if you asked her, let you tie her up and whip her ass until it's red. Would that be proof enough for you?"

Chuck didn't know what to say. He didn't want a divorce. They had no children, that wasn't the problem. They had only been married for four years so there wasn't too much accumulated property to dispose of. It would still cost a lot, but that was just money. There were two, maybe three things that really bothered him. First, he loved Anna, or at least he loved fucking her. She was passionate and responsive, although Jonathan had hit it on the head. She didn't like to give blow jobs. Second, he was, hopefully, an up and coming executive. How would it look to the companies he might apply to to run them if he couldn't manage his own life? It was bound to get around he was being divorced because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants. That's not the way to make friends and influence people in the higher levels of corporate power. Not so much that he did it, but that he got caught.

And thirdly, and maybe this was the most important of all, no one said goodbye to him. He was the one who would decide when and if their relationship was over. His feelings when he first read his wife's note ran through him now. “You fucking cunt,” he thought when her read her declaration of intent to leave him. “You don't say goodbye to me! You're mine! I won't let it happen!” He was so mad that if she had been there when he read the note he would have punched her in the face.

"M-maybe,” was all he was able to get out in response to Blackthorne's question.

"I tell you what,” Jonathan said to him, smiling, knowing his fish was hooked. “When she comes in here, I'm going to order her to suck me off. First she'll strip, then get on her knees and then she'll suck my cock until I come in her mouth. Then, after she swallows my spunk, she's going to turn to you, ask your forgiveness and suck you off too. Okay?"

Conway didn't know whether to run out of the room screaming for his wife to come and get out of there with him or to say yes. Suddenly, he began to get the feeling that the eerie, strange man from nowhere could pull it off. As to fucking his friends, maybe he'd make her do it as a punishment for writing him that letter. She could chew on it while they fucked her up the ass.

There wasn't sufficient time for Chuck to respond. As if on cue, Dolores and Anna came into the room. The rec room was set up with a large, digital TV in a corner with two long, light brown couches in front of it set off against each other to form a corner. You could sit on one and watch the TV and see the face of someone on the other couch at the same time. Anna and Dolores were laughing at some joke.

Anna, looking pleasant and happy, asked, “How's the game?"

"We don't know,” Blackthorne answered her. “We've been talking."

"Nothing serious, I hope,” she replied lightly. She sat on the couch next to Conway, about six or seven inches away from him, leaned back and crossed her long, delectable legs. Dolores, having received a signal to stay on her feet, stood at the end of the couch. If Anna had been alert, she would have seen a dark cloud cross her face, just for an instant, before she resumed a polite, gracious smile.

"In fact,” Jonathan continued, “we've been talking about you."

"Me?” Anna asked, surprise and annoyance on her face. “And what have you been saying?"

"Well,” Jonathan said, “I've told Chuck he doesn't have to worry about anything any more. That you're not going to leave him. In fact, you're going to be a better wife to him than you ever have before."

"Oh, is that so?” Anna replied, throwing a steely look at he erstwhile mate. She turned back to Blackthorne.

"I don't think I like.... “was all she got out. A wave of confusion ran over her face, once and then again. Her lips moved as if she was going to speak, but nothing came out.

"I want you to do what I tell, you Anna,” Jonathan said to her, his voice low and commanding. He didn't really need to say anything to her. He had already made most of the alterations in her brain he needed to. The show was for Chuck's benefit, so he could believe that it was really happening.

A tear formed in Anna's right eye. “Y-yes, Mr. Blackthorne,” she said nervously. She could feel lust emanating from the handsome, blond man's body and resounding in her loins. She couldn't explain it. It frightened her.

"I want you to get up and stand in front of the TV. When you get there, I want you to take all of your clothes off. Leave those pretty sandals on. Then, when you're done, I want you to kneel down on the floor, spread your legs and put your hands behind your back. OK? And then, when I think you're ready, you can come over here and suck my prick."

Anna, her face a mask of fear and unhappiness, nodded dolefully. Why was she agreeing with him, she thought fearfully. Was she really going to do what he said? She felt she had to, that she had no choice. She looked over at Dolores. He face had gone blank as if she had washed her hands of the whole thing. She could get no help there. Then she looked at her husband. He was staring at her, shocked and amazed she hadn't gotten up and slapped Blackthorne across the face and stomped out. There was also a gleam in his eye that told her he was in total agreement with the compelling blond man's commands. She looked back at Blackthorne as if for a reprieve. Maybe he was kidding?

"I'm waiting, Anna,” he said.

Slowly, dismally, the attractive, 32 year old Anna Conway raised her body from the couch. She walked gingerly over to the TV and turned to face the others in the room. She winced when she saw that one of the pretty, short skirted serving girls who had waited on them at lunch was standing in the back of the room, her hands placed behind her back, her legs parted, watching intently. Blackthorne had muted the TV, but the game was still going on behind her.

Jonathan increased his message of lust to the forlorn woman along with a surge of the need to obey. He also stoked her feelings of fear so that her hands were shaking when she reached them behind her neck to loosen the tied strands which held up her yellow and orange flowered bodice. Her face was wrenched with confusion and horror as she untied the straps of her dress and pulled them forwards to the tops of her breasts. She hesitated there, perhaps hoping for someone to say it had all been a bad joke. When no reassurance was forthcoming, she gave a sob and lowered them past her pale, round, braless mounds.

Ana's breasts were plump, but not large. Their ends came to points and curved upwards slightly. Good for a 32 year old. Her nipples were small and flat, but had hardened with her fear and developing sexual passion. She couldn't figure out where it was coming from. She had never had the urge to do anything like this before, never fantasized about it. Why was it making her so hot? And she knew the further she went, the more obedient she was to the hard, blond man's commands, the hotter she would get.

"You know, Chuck,” Jonathan said to his CEO, who was staring, unbelieving at the woman who he thought he had known for four years. “Anna has nice tits, but they'd be nicer if they were a little bigger. I have a guy you can call. He does a real nice job. I had him do Cathy's. You've met Cathy, haven't you, Dolores's stepdaughter? She's busy down at the guest house right now. I'll send her by the office some day next week and you can get a look at them."

Chuck looked at Jonathan, his eyes glazed, and nodded. He looked back at his trembling wife.

Jonathan too had resumed his gaze on the unhappy woman and when she saw the look in his eyes, the look of command, promising retribution for disobedience, she quickly shuffled the dress over her hips and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing a thin, white thong that barely covered her fluffy mass of black pubic hair. She crossed her arms across her taut belly and placed her hands over her private place, but only momentarily. Remembering her duty to obey, she took the sides of the thong in her thumbs and pulled it slowly down her thighs. She bent forwards, causing her breasts to shift out from her body and drew the thong over her knees and down her shins. She pulled it free from her one foot at a time, carefully making sure it did not catch on her high heeled sandals and, at the same time, stepping out of the circle her discarded dress had formed around her. Punctilious about her clothes even in moments of stress, she picked them up and looked for somewhere to put them. Dolores, feeling an encouraging nudge from her husband and master, stepped forwards and took them from her. Anna gave her a little smile in thanks and stepped back to her position in front of the TV.

Anna wondered frantically what was happening to her. Slowly, in obedience to Jonathan's command, she sank to her knees, spreading her long, slim thighs as she did so. When she felt the thick carpet on her kneecaps, a rush of pleasure soared through her. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes to let it pass. When she opened them, she placed her hands behind her back and looked at the two men anxiously. She felt her pussy burning with need. She couldn't understand how this was happening, but she understood that the strange, mysterious Mr. Blackthorne had something to do with it. He was smiling at her in appreciation of her obedience and when she saw he was pleased, another surge of passion coursed through her. She felt drawn to him, to whatever he was going to do to her. He said she was going to suck his prick. Her mouth and lips tingled at the prospect of having his cock. She wanted to do it now.

Ana felt her lusts building as she felt the eyes of the men and the women in the room on her naked flesh, her bare, proffered breasts, her available sex. She closed her eyes to block it out, but couldn't dissipate the vision of the muscular, broad shouldered, blond man's cold, hard gaze.

"Anna?” Blackthorne asked the clearly impassioned woman after about thirty seconds of heavy, pregnant silence had passed. “Are you wet yet?” His voice was pleasant, as if asking her if she needed some more tea or whether, perhaps, she would like a piece of cake. She looked at him uncertainly.

"I-I'm not sure,” she said unhappily.

"Why don't you put your fingers in your pussy and see?” Blackthorn suggested.

Anna welcomed the suggestion to touch her burning slit. She drew a hand from behind her back and, after first running it over her soft, flat belly, let it fall to her loins. Her teeth bit her lower lip as she gently pried her engorged labia apart and touched her inner self. She was wet and her fingers slid inside her easily. She closed her eyes and let the feeling of her self penetration send her welcome messages of pleasure. She let her hand drift north and she rubbed her hardened pleasure bud softly. She moaned with desire.

"What's the answer, Anna?” Jonathan asked, interrupting her reverie.

"Y-yes,” she answered dreamily.

"Then it's time to come here and take my cock in your mouth,” Jonathan ordered. He had unzipped his cream colored, soft, loose linen pants and now revealed his thick, angry looking cock. Anna, who had opened her eyes at his voice of command, stared at it hungrily.

"Y-yes, Mr. Blackthorne,” she said softly. Every cell in her body wanted her mouth to purse around the man's swollen member. She leaned over to her hands and crawled to him. She knelt between his legs and, taking hold of the huge instrument in her hand, directed it towards where she knew it belonged. She moaned as she let her lips tighten around it and pressed her head forwards, engulfing it slowly into her. Blackthorne also moaned with pleasure. He would never get tired of the feeling of a hot mouth around his dick. Nor for the burning heat of a lustful cunt, or, for that matter, the steamy warmth of a woman's bowels, her tight, rear ring gripping his shaft firmly. He could come twenty five to thirty times a day, more if he really pushed himself. He never got tired of fucking or of sampling newly enraptured women. He had good food, near to the best the world could provide, lived in beautiful surroundings, had power, money. If he had to give it all up and keep just one thing, it would be the fucking. And of all the sexual acts he could force a woman to perform, kneeling between his thighs and sucking his cock was on the top of the list.

Blackthorne placed his hands on Anna's head while she slowly, lustfully serviced his hard prick. “Put your arms behind your back, Anna,” Jonathan told her. “Grab your elbows ands spread your legs. Let your husband see your wet pussy."

Obediently, Anna released her hand from Blackthorn's shaft and put her arms straight across her back until she had grasp of her opposite elbows. She arched her back and spread her legs, proud to let her mate see the evidence of her excitement. Her lusts built higher and higher as she ran her lips down the length of the hard pole. She felt the man place his hands on her head and his will pour into her. She sensed that when she received his viscous discharge it would bind her to him irrevocably. She would obey him in all things as long as she lived. Some part of her persona rebelled at the thought. She was a graduate of Wesleyan University, had a masters in French literature, had friends, parents, people with whom she had bonds who she would lose forever. She felt the man's body stiffen in preparation for his discharge. In a moment she would be lost, she needed to act now! All she had to do was get up from her knees, but the pleasure of having her mouth filled with the man's meat was too strong. She felt the first throb of his cock, tasted the sweet precum that oozed out of its end. It was too late. Anna, the elegant, sophisticated, educated, handsomely beautiful, liberated woman disappeared the moment Blackthorne's cum spurted on her fervent tongue. Mindlessly, she drew every drop of his essence from him. She moaned with pleasure as she felt her pussy clench and spasm in return.

Blackthorne reveled in his orgasm. His lust spilled throughout the room. Dolores and the maid swooned as his psyche pierced them and filled them with desire. He sent fierce messages of pleasure through his hands to the body of the now enthralled woman.

When his discharge was finished, Jonathan eased the lovely woman's head off his loins. He didn't need to tell her her duties. He had implanted them deeply inside of her. She would serve her husband joyfully. She would also report to him, Jonathan, anything her husband did that might not be in Jonathan's interests. All that had already been accomplished with a simple twist of her mind. He needed to complete the show for Conway's sake.