A Slave to Desire

By Roxanne Fox

Published by Roxanne Fox at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Roxanne Fox

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

Cover photo
© Sergey Kolesnikov/123RF

“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.”

“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.