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 T H E   H O M E R   V A R G A S   S T O R Y   A R C H I V E

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 They may be downloaded and read by private citizens.  They 
 are not to be used by commercial web sites.  Persons using 
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Sabah at the Ball (MC, Fdom, preg, Rom)
By Homer Vargas
vargas111@yahoo.com

***

A sequel to "Sabah and Rod" Rod's Mistress deals with 
some jealous rivals at the ball.

***

Proofread and edited by Pet Tigress. Any remaining errors 
are my own.

***

Rod slowly pulled himself back to exhausted 
consciousness. He smiled weakly, knowing why he felt 
dissipated in this way. Sabah had Fed again last night. 
It was getting familiar. A Feeding was like an attack of 
malaria, he mused, several days of dreamy lassitude, then 
a gradual recovery to normal. But even if it were 
possible, Rod had no desire to be cured of these attacks. 
First, because he knew he was pleasing Sabah. More than 
pleasing her, he sustained her. Her very life depended on 
the sexual energy she absorbed from him during that 
orgasmic fury. That was wonderful knowledge: his 
beautiful, sexy, marvelous Mistress needed HIM.

Then too, during his recovery Sabah would spend the days 
pampering and coddling him. Lovemaking with Sabah would 
be especially gentle and even more frequent. And he knew 
she would let him loll for hours, drinking from the 
fountain of her self as he worshiped and pleasured her. 
Her cum nourished him, she said. Sabah was very excited 
about this discovery and said it made their relationship 
more symbiosis than parasite-prey as with her previous 
lovers.

Finally, the Feeding itself was never less than 
wonderful. He enjoyed making love with Sabah morning and 
night (and when she was feeling frisky, during the day, 
too). But ordinary sex was nothing compared to a Feeding. 
She always made it special.

He still remembered the one a few months after coming to 
live with her. It was typical, if any one of a series of 
unique adventures can be said to be typical. He never 
knew exactly when a Feeding would take place, although of 
course he knew that Sabah seldom went for more than three 
or four weeks without one. Thus he was expecting nothing 
extraordinary when she called him to their bedchamber 
early one evening. 

Perfectly posed and perfectly naked, Sabah sat smiling on 
the edge of her bed, the bed she let him share. A long 
green gown that would hug every inch of her perfect body 
lay beside her. An emerald choker Rod had never seen was 
on the dressing table nearby. Her dark hair was piled 
high on her head. She was preparing for an evening out. 
Rod was struck by her beauty and felt regret that he 
could not accompany her wherever it was she was going.

"It's the Winchester League Spring Charity Ball tonight, 
my sweet," she said reading the question on his face. 
"Will you help me dress?" Not needing to wait for his 
reply she nodded to indicate the pair of high-top 
stockings he had overlooked. Unquestioningly, Rod took 
them and, dropping to his knees before her, began to tug 
and roll the delicate fabric up her long firm legs. As he 
neared the crotch the aroma of her arousal overpowered 
him. He looked up at her with the unstated petition in 
his eyes.

"Of course, you may, my darling, at least for a few 
minutes." Rod's joy knew no bounds as he thrust his head 
between Sabah's luscious thighs and drank deeply of her 
essence. Sometimes Rod did not know which form of worship 
was best. This had the advantage of being more selfless, 
not that HE did not enjoy bringing Sabah to climax with 
his mouth and tongue, and he could prolong it for hours. 
Yet, ultimately he had to prefer what she did, and no 
matter how many time he got her off otherwise, Sabah 
ultimately loved to be penetrated, long, hard, repeated 
thrusts of his cock into her vagina. Perhaps it was the 
only time, if only for a few seconds, but when he was 
pounding hard into her, she totally lost control.

Unaware of when she bid him stop, Rod was suddenly 
conscious of Sabah's face smiling down at him. "Time for 
me to finish getting dressed, my sweet. I can't let you 
make us late." She waited just long enough to detect his 
happiness as he understood the meaning of her words. 
"Your tux is on the bed, sweetheart," she laughed. "Did 
you think I wanted to spend a night around a bunch of 
stuffy high-society types without you, my love?"

Now it was Sabah's turn to marvel as she cast admiring 
glances at Rod while she finished slipping into the gown 
and matching heels. She had stripped Rod of all shyness 
before her, so he disrobed and began to dress with the 
natural grace of serpent changing its skin. She loved to 
look at his hard naked body, the firm jaw, the black 
curls. In her centuries of existence, she had never had 
such a slave and lover.

Since he had come to live with her, she had put him on a 
weight training and high protein regimen. A few pounds of 
office flab had been replaced by several more of hard, 
lean muscle. Sometimes she could not believe her luck 
that his beautiful, intelligent man was hers. Her need 
had been so great the night of the storm, she would have 
settled for far less. But when she saw him fully dressed 
in the evening attire that just hinted at the hunk hidden 
within, she found herself humming, "Someday My Prince 
Will Come." Hers had.

"Here are the keys, darling. Take us to the ball."

Sabah was glad she had kept and lovingly preserved the 
old Lincoln. The wide bench seats were perfect for 
scroonching close and laying her head in Rod's lap like a 
happy cat. As he drove the beautiful old car along the 
twisting mountain road toward the little county seat, she 
resisted the urge to open his fly and suck the erection 
she felt in his pants. She was saving that for later. His 
gentle stroking of her hair and neck had almost put her 
to sleep when she felt him decelerate and enter the 
winding street of the old town on what had been the 
Virginia frontier.

Although the town was perhaps 1500 feet lower than her 
property up in the Blue Ridges, the sun had set and an 
early spring nip was in the air. The old stone country 
club had been torn down and replaced by a faux-Classical 
Revival building that Sabah hated, but tonight it was 
blazing with light that illuminated the surrounding 
grounds. Sabah threw her fur around her shoulders and 
waited for Rod to open the door. A valet took the car as 
they made their entrance.

Rod was too happy being with this wonderful woman to be 
conscious of the impression the couple made on the 
already gathered guests. It would not have occurred to 
him that every man in the room envied the man at the side 
of this spectacular woman. Sabah was well know in the 
little town, but no one could remember seeing her like 
this, brimming with life, scintillating sex appeal. And 
who was the tall muscular young man with her? Nor would 
Rod have suspected the depth of instant jealousy the 
other women felt when the saw Sabah and their husbands' 
reactions. What had SHE done to deserve an Adonis like 
him? A thousand generations of feminine intuition told 
them the young hunk was totally infatuated with the older 
woman and that Sabah had him fucking her silly.

"Sabah! Good to see you," boomed the friendly voice of 
Charles Landsworth, Chairman of the League. "Glad you 
could come." Melanie, Charles's wife, was drifting their 
way, a slight scowl on her face.

"Good evening, Charles, Melanie," Sabah greeted them. 
"I'd like you to meet my new friend Rod." Melanie lifted 
an eyebrow. The pleasantries continued, but Sabah didn't 
miss Melanie's judgmental attitude. She could almost hear 
the sarcastic remarks the blond trophy wife would have 
liked to make, 'He's a little young for you, isn't he?' 
'Where did you pick him out, in a sports bar?' as well as 
the one she would never have verbalized, though she was 
dying to know, 'Does he fuck as good as he looks?'

Sabah was tired of Melanie. She had tried to be friendly. 
She had been truly happy that Charles had found someone 
so soon after his first wife's death. Sabah guessed that 
the young woman had seduced him, but Charles seemed 
happy. Sabah understood perfectly well that Melanie was 
jealous of Sabah's independent standing in the community, 
while she lived only in Charles's reflected glow.

Sabah also suspected Melanie secretly regretted giving up 
her exciting, if poorly paid life as a junior lobbyist in 
Washington for the financial security of Charles's money, 
which she spent with abandon. But understanding Melanie 
did not make her any easier to stomach. Sabah 
particularly resented Melanie for not realizing what a 
treasure she had in Charles. When she allowed herself to 
pick up impressions, Sabah had confirmed what his face 
showed: Charles totally adored his new wife even though - 
and this had been a surprise to Sabah -- she eyedroppered 
out the sex to her still lusty husband.

Melanie definitely had her clique. Sabah noticed that the 
group of Melanie's snooty friends, Agatha Witherspoon, 
Grace Chriswell, Darlene Simms, and Marjory Gresham, 
avoided Rod and her throughout the before-dinner 
cocktails. She noted the slight aura of hatefulness 
around the group. Maybe the time had come to do something 
about that, she grinned.

Soon the crowd was called to their seats. Just as Sabah 
and Rod were to sit down, Charles came over to take Sabah 
to the head table. "I have no idea what this is about, 
honey," she whispered to Rod as Charles led her away. As 
she took her place at her place to the right of the 
Chairman, everyone applauded.

Rod could see on Sabah's face that everything was a total 
surprise to her as it was even more to him. He only 
understood after dinner when the Chairman announced that 
Sabah Noor was being recognized as Winchester's "Citizen 
of the Year." Rod knew of course that his Mistress was an 
amazing woman, but he had no idea of all her civic 
activities. Not only had she donated considerable sums to 
many worthy projects and served on many committees, but 
she also volunteered at a nearby hospice. One of the 
sisters stood to give an emotional testimony of how Sabah 
had an almost magical power to calm and cheer the lonely 
dying people. Rod found himself choked up with joy and 
pride for his marvelous Mistress. He noticed, however, 
the group of Melanie and her fiends in one section of the 
hall who only looked on sullenly. Sabah noticed as well.

Sabah's acknowledgement was brief and tinged with self-
deprecating humor, but Rod had no doubt she was genuinely 
touched by the community's gesture. "So thank you all 
again," she said in closing, "but if I'm not mistaken, 
this is a ball. So, Let's DANCE!"

Nodding to the orchestra that struck up a slow waltz, 
Sabah walked to the center of the empty dance floor. A 
nod in his direction told Rod what to do. Although 
embarrassed, he rose and made his way among the tables to 
Sabah's side. The embarrassment evaporated the moment she 
slipped into his arms. For several long seconds the 
entire gathering was struck silent by the stunning older 
woman and the handsome young man gliding around the 
floor. The dance was perfectly proper, but the two bodies 
moving as one seemed to generate an erotic field around 
them.

One by one, other couples began to join them on the floor 
and soon the room was filled with happy, laughing 
husbands and wives, some of whom hadn't danced together 
for years. As if by magic, however, feet remembered dance 
steps long thought forgotten. Wisely, the band kept to 
tunes from ten or twenty years earlier, when the mostly 
middle age crowd had been dating. Everything was going 
according to plan, Sabah smiled.

"Huh?" Rod realized he had been so caught up in the 
sensuous pleasure of dancing with Sabah in his arms, he 
had not quite heard what she said."

"Never mind, love. We're going to mix things up a little. 
Just tell that to all the women you dance with and the 
other thing to Melanie."

"Tell what?" he asked, but Sabah had already slipped away 
to invite Charles to dance. Rod grinned at Melanie's 
obvious displeasure as he offered his arm to one of her 
friends who, like Melanie, had not joined in the dancing. 
It was Agatha Chriswell, a plump but pleasant looking 
woman; pleasant-looking if she didn't have that superior 
expression on her face, Rod thought.

The band had been playing a Western Quickstep, but 
dropped the pace to something slower as the mixed couples 
got the feel of each other. Rod murmured something to 
Agatha and she quickly felt comfortable in his arms. 
Well, more than comfortable. Rod was surprised and a 
little dismayed as the woman began to press herself 
against him more and more tightly. When he felt her 
actually start to grind her crotch to his groin, Rod 
looked around nervously for Sabah. He caught her eye 
nearby and she winked.

Fortunately there was a break between songs and Rod was 
able to slip from Agatha's ardent grasp. Although they 
were not necessarily the most attractive women there, Rod 
found himself asking one after another of Melanie's 
friends to dance. The pattern with Agatha repeated 
itself, indeed it got worse. Rod introduced himself with 
the mumbled addendum and the woman practically went into 
rut. Grace Witherspoon danced him into a corner and 
dragged his hands down to her rather too-ample ass. 
Marjory Simms groped his crotch, but Rod put it down to 
the frustrations of widowhood. Darlene Gresham managed to 
get Rod's hand into her blouse and Lord knows what would 
have happened to her bra if another break in the music 
hadn't rescued him.

When he finally stood before Melanie, she looked up at 
him with a cold smile. "Why not Roddy? We'll dance, but 
just because you're a pretty boy, don't expect me to come 
onto you. I'm not an overage teenager like them." Melanie 
tossed her head in contempt at her companions who were 
now dancing like cats in heat with their delighted 
husbands.

"What's wrong with a man and wife having fun, Melanie? 
Besides..." 

Melanie gave a little gasp as Rod finished speaking. 
"Er... nothing, I guess," she said and slid a little 
closer into Rod's arms. True to her word, Melanie did not 
throw herself at him as the other women had, but she 
seemed to be in some sort of torment. The music had 
picked up the tempo and Melanie was becoming visibly 
excited as Rod turned and twirled her. She was double-
stepping the beat and flinging her arms into the air as 
if in some sort of jungle frenzy. Soon perspiration had 
soaked her silky blouse, revealing a bra straining to 
contain Melanie's impressive superstructure.

When the set ended, Rod led a panting, fiery-eyed Melanie 
back to the table where Sabah was now sitting with 
Charles. Sabah seemed to be just finishing up something 
she was whispering in Charles's ear when Sabah nudged 
him. Looking up and shaking his head as if awaking from a 
dream, Charles's eyes lit up as they fell on Melanie. It 
was a Melanie he had not seen in a long time, if ever. 
Her eyes were wide, her nostrils flared. Everything about 
his wife screamed that she was hot and needed to be 
fucked. It was a look Charles had longed for and he rose 
and took her in his arms.

"Good work, baby. Want to see how good?" Sabah giggled as 
she led Rod away from the pair who were starting to paw 
one another. Suddenly Rod noticed the entire ballroom was 
almost deserted. Most had left, having drifted home to 
bed but not to sleep, he suspected. In a few corners 
couples were making out, but it wasn't a few bared 
breasts and hiked skirts Sabah wanted to show her mate. 
Giggling softly she tugged him toward a lounge area.

To his shock Rod saw Melanie's entire set of friends - 
but never like this! Agatha Chriswell was on her back, 
her heals in the air, mewing and humping as the pudgy 
Raymond Chriswell was fucking her like there was no 
tomorrow. "Yes, Ray baby hard! I need it!... Harder... 
HARDER!"

Grace Witherspoon was also on her back, but was not so 
happy. With both hands she had a death grip on the head 
of a man - Rod was pretty sure it was Arthur Witherspoon 
-- between her legs as she complained. "Keep it up, you 
bastard! <grunt>. Oh, yes, like that. Work that tongue, 
damn you! I need to get FUCKED, dammit. Uuuuh shit, how 
much longer 'til that god-damned Viagra kicks in?"

Marjory Simms had no such problems. The too-thin red-head 
was fully on board the cock of a grunting, heaving black 
man that Rod recognized as the trombone player from the 
band. "Oh, yeah baby. Give me more of that cock, you 
animal! <gasp> Ooohhhhh, YES! So fucking BIG... 
Uhhhhngggg... like that, right up in there where mamma's 
pussy NEEDS it! <pant> I'm taking you home, honey. You're 
gonna make me c...Aaaaiiiiieee!" the bouncing woman 
squealed as she climaxed.

Darlene Gresham wasn't saying much; how could she? On her 
knees, her face was in the crotch of an astounded waiter, 
sucking him as if it was her first drink after crossing 
the Sahara. Meanwhile, a very exercised Rutherford 
Gresham had his hands on Darlene's upturned ass and was 
pounding away vehemently at his wife's gushing pussy, 
making her groan with each thrust.

"Take THAT, you bitch for never wearing miniskirts and 
heels as I wanted you to, and THAT for always turning the 
lights out!" he spat as he slammed into her again. "And 
THAT for only doing it on weekends!" Rutherford was 
obviously releasing a lot of long pent-up frustrations. 
"And THAT." Rod winced at the force with which the 
seemingly mild-mannered accountant was ramming his prick 
into his whimpering wife's dripping cunt. "THAT's for 
never letting me kiss and suck on those COW tits of yours 
and THAT," Rod was afraid he was going to injure the 
woman, "Is for never letting me eat this FUCKING HOT 
PUSSEEEEEYYY!"

Sabah tugged Rod's hand again to depart the mini-orgy. He 
took a step toward the exit, but Sabah smiled and 
motioned with her head back toward the ballroom. There on 
the table where she had sat, was Melanie, moaning with 
arousal, her knees bent and her drenched pussy open to 
Charles rampant prick. Her husband was teasing her, 
brushing her pussy lips, giving her tiny pokes that made 
her squirm, running his rather impressive member up and 
down his writhing wife's slit. They appeared to be 
renegotiating their relationship. 

"Yes, Charles, anything, baby! Just fuck me. ... God, I 
need it so bad. No, I'll never refuse you again, promise, 
I promise! Huh? No, not that!" Charles seemed to slow his 
attack. "No, Charles! Please, baby, don't stop now. I 
need to be FUUUCKED! All right, yes, Yes YES! Fuck me and 
you can make me pregnant. What? Noooo ... oooh ...Yes! 
Two, three, anything darling, as many babies as you want. 
Keep me pregnant all the time, but FUUUK MEEEiiiiiieee!"

"Let's go, Love," Sabah almost growled. "I'm hungry!" 

Perhaps she had planned it all along or perhaps the orgy 
she had orchestrated triggered it, but Rod saw that Sabah 
was about to Feed. "Hurry, darling! Get me home." 

Sabah had been wild in the car, insisting that she drove 
so Rod could use the front slit of her gown to eat her. 
The car swayed each time he brought her to orgasm and he 
prayed she would slow down. They arrived in record time 
and alive, fortunately. Sabah had almost torn off her 
clothes and his, getting him in bed. There was nothing 
slow and romantic about THIS Feeding. Sabah TOOK him. 
Screaming with passion she threw herself down on his cock 
over and over. The sexual frenzy of her Feeding 
communicated itself to Rod who humped back with almost 
superhuman stamina. The scene appeared that of a she lion 
devouring a gazelle, except this prey was larger than the 
predator and it was doing everything possible to BE 
devoured. Rod had blacked out at the height of their 
simultaneous orgasm.

*****

Yes, that had been one of the best ones, Rod mused, 
waiting for Sabah to come in with breakfast -- she always 
had a big breakfast for him the morning after a Feeding. 
And enough time had passed for the results of Sabah's 
prank to become evident. Within days of the ball, the 
wardrobes of Agatha, Grace, Darlene, Marjory, and of 
course Melanie had improved dramatically. The five women 
organized a joint shopping trip to Tyson's Corner and 
came back with two SUVs packed full of miniskirts, push-
up bras, almost-illegal blouses, fuck-me heels, 
stockings, and an assortment of sleepwear guaranteed to 
keep a husband, or in Marjory's case, a growing roster of 
boyfriends, from sleeping. Arthur Witherspoon, Raymond 
Chriswell, Rutherford Simms, and Charles Landsworth 
couldn't believe their luck. Suddenly they had wives who 
not only dressed like women during the day, they fucked 
like minxes at night.

Grace, Agatha, and Darlene joined a local gym to loose a 
few pounds. Summer was coming and they were licking their 
lips at their husbands' reactions when they saw their 
wives in string bikinis. Melanie joined, too, realizing 
she needed strength training, as often as Charles was 
fucking her. Marjory, on the other hand, wanted to put on 
some weight. Her new fiancee, Jamal White, the Washington 
Wizards' center forward, thought Marjory needed a few 
more curves to complement her astounding libido. 

The gym program hadn't lasted long, Rod chuckled, or at 
least the exercise regime soon had to be changed. One by 
one over the last month or so, each woman had started 
showing off some very sexy new maternity dresses.

To be continued...

Comments please to:
Homer Vargas
vargas111@Yahoo.com