Message-ID: <6288eli$9802201601@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: "Charles Thain" <okiquit@hotmail.com> Subject: Portland Ch. (MF FF MFF) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <19980220120940.6031.qmail@hotmail.com> My Weekend in Portland -- Chapter 18 of 30 (MF FF MFF) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- WARNING -- This is a work of erotic fiction intended only for readers of a legally responsible age in the jurisdiction where they live. This work may be archived and redistributed, but it may not be sold or changed in any way. Send comments to OKIquit@hotmail.com. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Denise A----- was barefoot, wearing a pair of silky, gray harem pants and a tight-fitting sleeveless top of some soft, black material. It displayed the shape of her small breasts rather nicely. She knew Ruth, but she was struggling to remember why my face was familiar. She stepped back and I walked inside, pulling a stunned Ruth with me by the arm. "We're sorry to just drop in," I said. "I hope we're not interrupting anything?" "No, no, I'm staying home tonight," Denise said, still puzzled. "I know I know you, but can't remember where we met." I introduced myself and jogged her memory. We had worked on a couple of projects together. "Yes, yes, I remember. How are you? How is San Francisco?" Denise said, glancing at Ruth. "How are you, Ruth?" Ruth was silent, eyes downcast. Denise paused, then turned back to me and continued our conversation, her curiosity clearly growing. I said nothing to enlighten her, chatting aimlessly about mutual acquaintances and my new job in San Francisco as she closed the door. Denise motioned us toward a wide, comfortable couch in front of her muted TV. I followed her, but Ruth took only one hesitant step before stopping indecisively, eyes on the floor. "Would you like a glass of wine?" Denise asked me, and turning, "Ruth?" Ruth remained silent and motionless. "What's wrong with her?" Denise asked. "She can't move or speak without my permission," I said. "Excuse me!" Denise said, half amused, half disbelieving. "Ruth has agreed to be my slave," I said, deadpan. "She can't move or talk without my permission." "What's going on here?" Denise demanded warily. "Ruth was the one who got me downsized last year," I explained. "She convinced Tucker my job was redundant, and later she began to feel pretty bad about it. So when I showed up at the office yesterday, she invited me to dinner and offered to be my slave for 48 hours, to make up for her guilt." Denise stared at me, wide-eyed. "Last night she agreed to do anything I commanded for 48 hours, if it's not illegal or life-threatening," I added. Denise was surprised, but I she also seemed intrigued and a little doubtful. She looked from me to Ruth. "Ruth, is this true?" she asked. "You can answer, Ruth." "Yes," Ruth said in a whisper, her face flushed a bright pink. "I am his slave." Considering for a moment, Ruth asked, "But why did you come here?" "That's a long story, do you mind if we sit down?" Taking off my jacket, I dropped it on a chair and put the paper bag on top. I sat at one end of Denise's couch and she sat facing me at the other end. I motioned Ruth to stand in front of the couch. Denise looked at her curiously, then at me. "Ruth, has normal needs and desires, but incredibly strong inhibitions," I began. "Becoming my slave allowed her to satisfy her desires." "In ... other ... words," Denise said slowly, glancing at us both with a smile, "you two have been fucking non-stop since last night?" "That's right," I grinned, pleased at her humor and open mind. "Maybe this won't be a long story after all." "That still doesn't tell me why you're here," Denise prompted. I looked at Ruth. If anything, her flush was deeper than before, her eyes closed, her head shaking slightly from side to side. "We're here because Ruth is obsessed with you," I said. "Beyond that, I don't know. It's up to you. We could leave right now if you like." "Obsessed? What do you mean obsessed," Denise said, staring at me, then at Ruth. I could see a flush rising in her face. "This should explain everything," I said, leaning over to pull Ruth's journal out of my shopping bag. (End of Chapter 18) ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |