Our Happy Slave (2/?) {Redman} {FFM fd md Rom} 
(c) October 2000 

Authors Note: I would be interested in any comments or 
corrections that readers might care to share with me. 
I can be reached at redman@seductive.com. 

Also, this work is not intended to be read by minors. 
If you are not legally an adult in your country or 
culture, please do not read it. This story is a work 
of fiction. Everything in it is a product of my own 
imagination and does not represent the way that anyone 
of any age should be treated or to represent a norm of 
acceptable behavior. 


Our Happy Slave 2/?


Things were going too well. I kept looking over my 
shoulder, waiting for the other proverbial shoe to 
drop. I knew I should be more cautious, go slower, but 
I was just feeling too smug.

That's when I walked into it. I came home one day and 
my wife greeted me at the back door, kissing me with 
lust on her lips and passion oozing from her liquid 
hips that moved to music blaring from our den. I 
couldn't tell if she were inviting me to dance or to 
fuck but I suddenly wanted to do both. As soon as we 
came up for air I took a great big whiff. I could 
smell that she was wet, even over the perfume that I 
had given her. When I had presented it to her on our 
anniversary, I told her to wear it when she was ready 
to screw until she was blind. It would be our little 
signal. About as subtle as a pre-frontal lobotomy.

What more could a man want than to be met at the door 
by a lusty, beautiful woman? I had been thinking about 
getting home and slipping between her thighs all day. 
I had barely been able to keep from going to the 
bathroom and tossing off hurriedly and shamefully. Not 
that it would have been the first time, but I was 
trying to save my energies for tonight's curtain call. 
What more could any man want?

The downfall of many a man though, is greed and in 
this regard I am perhaps more guilty than most. As my 
wife grabbed my tie and her hips swayed as she began 
backing me into the boudoir, her finger came up to her 
lips, demanding silence. I happened to glance into the 
den where I glimpsed our naked slave Connie tidying 
up, humming happily to herself. She being at least 
partially responsible for my good mood, my eyes 
lingered longingly over her slim thighs, her blond 
hair, her round, delicious bottom moving to the music.

There are moments when a man knows instinctively, one 
second too late, that he has just plunged his dick 
into a buzzsaw. This was my moment. One second ago my 
randy wife was dragging me off to rape and pillage my 
bones and the next moment I was stopped short, staring 
into the face of a women who imagined herself scorned. 

My first thoughts were of body-integrity preservation. 
I did a quick scan to make sure there were no sharp 
objects within her reach. Something must have amused 
her as she stared into my deer-in-the-headlights face, 
though, because her look softened. For just a moment I 
felt the relief of a death-row inmate when the phone 
rings, but the slight lifting of her eyebrow told me 
that although I was out of immediate danger, my 
torture would be slow and severe. 

We have been married for quite some time. I know this 
woman well, love her well in all her moods. I knew 
that when her eyebrow stayed raised and she lifted her 
chin defiantly that a challenge was given, a gauntlet 
was thrown down. The spice of our union was the 
struggle of two wrestlers, equally matched, struggling 
for dominance. Occasionally one of us would appear to 
give in, but each retreat, each advance, was 
strategic. It's what made me love her most.

Her challenge had been made with only a glance. Hell, 
not a word had been spoken since I walked in the door, 
but I still knew. I nodded acceptance, having only the 
vaguest notion of the stakes or the rules. God, I love 
a good game!

My beautiful wife released my tie, casually. She began 
to move around me to the den and then stopped and 
straightened the tie. She looked up at me with that 
knowing look all women give men that makes them feel 
that they are hopelessly out of their league. 

She headed back towards the den, her hips swaying, 
enticing me with the now-forbidden fruit. I was sorely 
tempted to declare surrender and beg her for a pity-
fuck, but I knew that it would squander all my 
political capital if I were to show such weakness. So, 
like a man trudging off to the gallows, I followed. 

As she slinked into the den, I hesitated at the door, 
uncertain and hesitant. She placed her arm 
possessively around Connie and nuzzled her ear, 
whispering something. Whatever the game was, Connie 
would somehow be a piece. But, a piece of what rank?

I saw Connie's turn toward me and her eye's lit up, 
seeing me for the first time. As she ran toward me, I 
was sorely tempted to stare at her wiggling, naked 
body as she came to hug me. Luckily I was able to 
focus enough on my darling wife long enough to see 
those expressive eyebrows shoot up in challenge and a 
warning of danger. I understood in a moment this game. 
We had played it often. I would lose the moment I 
showed too much attention and affection to our nubile 
little temptress. My wife's goal was to force me, 
through weakness of will or lust into one lingering 
touch, one look of desire held too long. She was 
telling me I had crossed the line when I gazed lustily 
at Connie when she herself was trying to seduce me. I 
would lose, and lose big, if I made the same mistake 
again.

"Master, oh master. How was your day?" Connie greeted 
me while pressing her entire body invitingly along 
every inch of mine. She kissed me on the cheek, 
placing her head on my shoulder with a sigh.

What do you do when your nerves are wired and a naked, 
squirming women rushes into you and you know you just 
can't touch? After catching myself almost 
instinctively grabbing her precious ass, I hugged her 
back simply as one would an elderly relative and 
patted her on the head, asking her how her own day had 
gone. 

Sweet innocent Connie was oblivious to the fact that 
she was skipping joyfully through a minefield. "I had 
a wonderful day, master. I'll tell you all about it 
after you relax and unwind a little," she said as she 
rather dreamily loosened my tie. As she struggled 
somewhat with the knot, I saw her lightly bite her 
lower lip and I knew that I was in trouble. Connie 
always did that when she was just beginning to be 
aroused. If she began to rub her twat against my leg 
as she often did, we were both in BIG trouble.

I held my breath and gritted my teeth as she wrestled 
with my tie. My penis was betraying me, inflating like 
a helium balloon at a birthday party when a reprieve 
from a most unlikely source rescued me.

"Connie," my wife's voice sounded throaty and as dark 
as whiskey, "Come sit with me on the sofa." What an 
interesting development I thought as I eased myself 
into a reading chair to better see whatever startling, 
surprise attack my wife had up her devious sleeve.

It was Connie's turn to be ensnared by the authority 
of my wife's focused attention. With only the 
slightest of glances in my direction out little slave 
immediately crossed the room to sit demurely by my 
wife's side. If she had not been naked and if I did 
not know she was already aroused, I would have thought 
she were sitting for tea.

After a pregnant moment, my wife reached across and 
drew Connie's mouth to her for a steamy kiss. She 
kissed her hungrily, like a sailor being recalled from 
leave. She pulled the girl possessively to her and her 
hands began to explore naked, willing flesh. I was 
amazed when her hand almost immediately flew to those 
luscious, lower wet lips of our beautiful plaything.

Oh, what a wicked wife I have! She knows my worst 
weaknesses and my most fierce desires. It was all I 
could do to not throw off my clothes and dive wantonly 
into the scene of unbridled desire that lay before me. 
When Connie's hands dove between my wife's skirt it 
was as though I had been stabbed in the chest. When my 
wife responded by opening her legs wide, pointing her 
cunt directly at me, I gasped out loud. I could see 
her red panties, slick with moisture as the air began 
to thicken and the room began to fill with the tangy 
aroma of women in lust.

When she quickly disentangled and swiftly pealed off 
the delicate barrier I knew exactly what she would do. 
Like a Cy Young pitcher she hurled the damp, silky 
things at my face. I heard her cackle wickedly as I 
immediately snagged them out of the air and brought 
them to my nose for a deep, lingering sniff that left 
me drunk with the pungent wetness of my spouse.

When I looked up drunkenly from her panties, I saw a 
four-armed beast caressing itself. The two gorgeous, 
unrestrained women struggled to see which of the other 
could thrust their fingers further between their 
flaying legs. I honestly do not know which of these 
amazing women began to orgasm first, I only know that 
my balls and penis ached to watch them as every muscle 
in their delectable bodies tensed at once. 

As the tension in their bodies slowly faded I tried to 
weather the storm of my own urges. I knew that if I 
could just hold on a little while, I could survive 
this test. My wife had always been a one-shot woman. 
She had always love to fuck; it is what we did best. 
But, she had never been inclined to repeat 
performances. I had always longed to eat for hours, 
bringing her to climax repeatedly. She was always 
satisfied with one, bone-rattling orgasm and what I 
had just seen had been a doozie. Imagine my amazement 
when my luscious, orgasmic wife looked at me with a 
leering grin and dug back in for another go.

What a change I was witnessing! When Connie had moved-
in next door to us with her good-for-nothing husband, 
my wife and I had been settled into a comfortable rut. 
I knew that I loved her and I knew that she loved me. 
We had a boring/satisfying monogamous relationship. We 
screwed 2.3 times per week and spent very little time 
with each other otherwise. Then two things happened: 
we had our fifteenth wedding anniversary and she began 
to befriend Connie.

Some men have a mid-life crisis and go crazy, ruining 
their marriage and their lives. I developed a sense of 
my own mortality and threw myself obsessively into my 
wife's arms. I took up massage and began to rub her 
feet and back every morning and evening. We went for 
long walks and fucked like minks. I dawdled over her 
and began to take better care of the house and myself. 
We both dropped thirty pounds and we continued to fuck 
like skinnier minks. 

My wife has always had a vivid sexual imagination and 
it wasn't long before she began to tease me that our 
new, young neighbor was making me randy. I encouraged 
her, teasingly, because although I knew that she would 
never admit it, my wife had a decidedly BI-streak. All 
of her favorite fantasies centered on lovely, young 
women. Lovely, submissive young women.

Connie wasn't beautiful back then, but she had all the 
raw materials. What she lacked was someone to love her 
to make it come out. Abused and neglected as a child, 
she had married the first slob that came along to 
escape. We had known that he was abusive. She and my 
wife had been speaking for six months, but when I saw 
him dragging her across the lawn by the hair something 
snapped. 

I got his attention when the handle of my pitchfork 
met the back of his head. He was looking pretty groggy 
there on the ground, until I put the business end down 
solidly on his family jewels. As I explained to him 
that he was no longer welcome in our nice little 
neighborhood, I leaned on the pitchfork ever so 
slightly while he squealed and begged. I think I got 
my point across, because we've never seen him since.

But that left a frightened, confused waif with no 
visible skills or means of support on our doorstep. My 
wife was too kind-hearted to run her off; we had ended 
up with several stray kittens in exactly the same way. 
I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut and my 
opinions to myself. But damned if once out from under 
the oppression Connie didn't begin to shine. She began 
to clean up and to come out of her shell. Before long, 
an effervescent personality began to bubble. Everyone 
in the house was effected.

One day my wife sent Connie to the store with a long 
list. I knew the fight was coming.

As soon as she was out of hollering range my darling 
wife wheeled on me and lashed out. "You don't need 
another wife running around here jumping up and down 
on your dick, so just get that shit out of your mind 
right now."

My wife thinks she knows me so well, and in a sense 
she knows my mind but not the range of my imagination. 
"Why, snookems, I don't know what you mean."

"Don't give me that shit, I can see through you like a 
pane of glass."

"Honey, you're the only wife I've ever had and the 
only one I've ever wanted. We'll grown old and gray 
together and change each others diapers every day."

"Well, what am I gonna do? I can't kick her out and if 
I let her stay I'm gonna come home one day and find 
you fucking her brains out and then I'll have to kill 
you both."

"Yes, dear. That's how I see the situation too. What 
do you intend to do?"

My wife loves it when I'm honest and agree with her. 
The edge had been taken off her anger and she began to 
rub against me. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I 
don't want to kill her. She's kinda cute, if you like 
that sorta thing. And I don't really want to kill you 
either," she said as she rubbed my penis through my 
jeans. "You have your uses sometimes."

"There's a solution short of murder," I whispered as I 
began to rub her sensitive nipples, "but I just know 
your not going to like it." Though she tried 
everything in her considerable power to persuade me to 
share my idea, my better sense kept me silent. Plant 
the seed and let it grow.

When she dug it out of me a week later that the 
solution was to allow Connie to stay as our slave, we 
had another, louder and more prolonged fight. I 
graciously allowed her to win. We both agreed that the 
idea was ridiculous - preposterous. The weeks went by 
and Connie continued to blossom under our love and in 
the safety of our home and my wife slowly warmed to 
the idea.

That, in a rather lengthy nutshell, is what has led 
many months afterward to my current excruciating 
dilemma. I sat in my reading chair nine months later 
with balls the size of oranges as my wife and our 
lovely slave wiggled their lovely cunts all over each 
other's fingers for a second time. I moaned and moved 
my hips to the rhythm of their fucking fingers. I knew 
that if so much as a fly landed on my crotch, I would 
shower the world with a torrent that was entrapped 
within my poor, throbbing testicles.

When Connie quickly followed with another jarring 
orgasm, I didn't know whether to applaud her or curse 
the spasm that almost sent me over the edge. I saw a 
look of wonder and desperation in my wife's face when 
minutes later our little slave convulsed again, 
clamping so tightly on my wife's hand that had the 
hormones not been as thick as concrete, she might have 
been in pain.

I found renewed hope when Connie, after recovering 
briefly, dove between my wife's legs and began to eat 
her with loud, exaggerated groans. I could see the 
need in my wife's eyes. She began thrusting her hips 
violently and with two hands pulled her slave into 
her. Her legs came out straight, like a divining rod, 
quivering, and pointing toward a deep, flowing well. 
Quickly she came again, like being battered by a 
cyclone. Her skin was flushed completely and she 
jerked as though electrocuted. When she collapsed I 
thought, "This is what it will look like when she 
dies."

I found myself panting in the silence. It was easily 
the most intense, profound experience in my life. I 
had not cum, but I felt emotionally ravaged. Moments 
drifted by like notes in the air and time hick-upped.

I saw a little movement. Connie stretched out my 
wife's leg like a limp, rag-doll. She straddled it and 
as she began to rub herself upon my wife's ankle. I 
saw a thick sheen of glistening juice coating her 
ankle. She began to slowly rock on it in the most 
sensuous, obscene fashion ever witnessed. I don't know 
how I looked away from this fascination, but my eyes 
drifted upward to my wife's crotch only to see that 
our little Connie's head was slowly bobbing, 
continuing to lick at my wife's battered cunt.

I didn't know whether to stop her or to join her. With 
every bob of her heard it felt like she was fucking my 
wife with my dick from across the room. 

As my eyes continued upward, they locked onto my 
wife's. Her eyes were soft, and liquid. There was 
brokeness there. I saw her deep love for me and I knew 
that something unnamed that had stood between us was 
gone. I had not touched her and yet my heart ached 
with the wanting of her. I yearned to hold her and 
tell her that I understood.

One hand drifted to Connie's wet sweat-soaked head and 
I thought that the moment would end. Instead, I felt a 
tightening. A tightening in her and a tightening in 
me. I felt my wife's eyes blaze at me and I knew that 
she was offering me a sacred glimpse of her soul, 
broken open for me to see. She came again, softly like 
a whisper. Like a virgin, trembling.

When she had done, she clasp both hands on Connie's 
face and drew her from her lap. When they kissed, as 
soft as schoolgirls, they were both crying. She looked 
into the girl's eyes and saw some answer there, just 
as she had seen in mine. She drew Connie to her breast 
to cradle her and our slave look back at me with a 
look that was filled with unfulfilled passion.

"Go to him, dear. You both need release," I heard my 
wife say in a raspy croak. The words sounded 
exhausted, devoid of any force of themselves and yet I 
was suddenly set on fire. I felt the orgasm welling up 
within my hips, undeniable and fierce. As Connie 
crawled across the floor I tried to hold it back. As 
she tore at my zipper I attempted to contain it. I 
lost all control as the top of my head achieved 
orbital velocity. I exploded, forceful and frantic.

I am not a young man anymore, but when I looked down 
at our little slave, she had my cum covering her 
cheeks and neck. She looked at me with the glassy eyes 
of a desire that would not be denied. I stood up on 
wobbling knees and began to remove all of my clothes 
as she lay back with her hands playing slowly between 
her thighs. By the time I removed everything, my dick 
was stiffening again.

I fell on top of her brutally. In one thrust I pinned 
her like a butterfly. She fluttered desperately, 
violently, pulling me further inside. She was moaning 
and crying and every so often she would laugh out loud 
with joy. I rocked into her savagely, proudly. As I 
arched my back, ready to cum again - ready to roar to 
the moon - I looked into the deep, languid eyes of my 
wife and I knew that this couldn't end like this.

My wife and my slave lay exhausted, seemingly unable 
to move. I had not cum a second time and even though I 
was desperate for release I knew that there was one 
more thing I had to do. Prying her clutching legs from 
around me, I stood and then carried my simpering slave 
to the couch. I laid her on the sofa and placed her 
head in my wife's lap. As I crawled between her legs 
and penetrated her once more - softly, gently - my 
wife weakly stroked her fevered brow. I fucked her 
with long, loving strokes while we all cried in each 
other's arms. I came with a shutter and a whimper.

Whatever game had been played here, I think we all had 
won. Nothing else was ever the same afterward.