Author's Note: This is a fictional story of an intense female dominant/male submissive relationship between a mature woman and much younger man. If you enjoy such stories, please read on - if not, please choose another more to your tastes. If you choose to read this story please vote and comment. Previous Chapters are necessary for a full understanding of this chapter. Thank you - FJ.
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"There is an element of truth in all legends," Professor Abraham Van Helsing, Bram Stoker's Dracula.
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Clare Stanfield awoke refreshed, vibrant. She could feel the rejuvenating effects of Bill's large, deep deposit of semen in her aged vagina taking hold. It was a feeling she had become desperate for in the year since her second husband had died. Her breasts were swollen, filled with the milk which had become an essential factor in her life - and in the lives of the men who worshipped her.
Only men who had drunk deeply of the copious milk her bloated breasts produced and then flushed her pussy with their sperm had this remarkable effect on her. She was working out the scientific details with her doctor, Tom Jones, MD, PhD - a research endocrinologist/gynecologist at the local medical school. He was also the 'client' she was to entertain this morning.
Life was good.
She checked the monitor to Bill's studio apartment. Her new tenant was stirring - getting ready for his first full day under her roof - and under her control. She hoped he had slept as well as she had, for her plans for this Saturday would require a bit of stamina from her young man.
Her seduction of this virile, handsome man had gone so much more smoothly and quickly than Clare had anticipated. She could not know that Bill would already be sexually attracted to - actually prefer! - mature women, women of his mother's age - Clare's apparent age, early 50's.
Clare had no expectation that her new tenant would take so readily to her controlling ways. She was surprised and pleased that he seemed to enjoy her spanking of his muscled ass with her small but powerful hand!
Clare knew she had one person to thank for presenting Bill to her in his present malleable state - his, now dead, foster mother and landlady Marie Stepich. In time Clare would elicit the details of their unusual relationship, but for now she was grateful to harvest the ripe fruit of Marie's work, compressing weeks of careful training into a single sex drenched day!
As Clare studied the monitor of the camera hidden in Bill's apartment, she couldn't help noticing the dramatic tenting of his boxers. He had obviously awakened with a raging hard on. Clare had thought to feed him a hearty breakfast and then allow him to explore his new home - her clothing optional resort community in central Florida - El Dorado - while she attended to her client, Dr. Jones.
Clare immediately thought better of that plan. She knew Bill was extremely vulnerable. There was no way she was going to expose her new 24 year old, virile tenant to the many temptations offered by her neighbors in El Dorado. She was determined to keep William Franklin all to herself. She was also determined to bind this lad to her - and only her - sexually. Yesterday was a good start, but she had more 'work' to do - 'work' she eagerly looked forward to!
Clare was nothing if not adaptable. New plan. She smiled wickedly at the thought of the day ahead.
In point of fact, Bill had had a rough night - sleep wise. He had been repeatedly awakened by the intensity of his dreams - sexual dreams, dreams in which he eagerly submitted sexually to much older women - namely his recently deceased foster mother and landlady, Marie Stepich, and his new landlady, Clare Stanfield. He knew his passion for these older women was unusual - probably depraved - and it troubled him.
Bill had willingly submitted to the unrelenting dominant sexual demands of the last of a long line of his step mothers, Marie, when he was eighteen. He had eagerly remained as her subservient tenant after high school graduation. While he excelled at the local state university graduating in accounting and finance, his world revolved around his now septuagenarian Mistress. She exacted an ever deepening devotion and dependence on the young man. He loved and worshipped her with all the passion of his young soul.
Then disaster struck in the spring of 2020 - COVID.
First it took his aged lover. Then it took his job. He was devastated emotionally and cut adrift in a world he was ill prepared to navigate on his own.
With no remaining ties to Illinois - and job prospects non existent in that COVID shutdown state - he looked for a more hospitable clime. A job north of Tampa beckoned and his search for a place to live brought him to Clare Stanfield's door yesterday afternoon.
Bill was stunned when she opened her door to reveal her naked, mature, voluptuous body adorned only with a mask and slippers.
Clare's similarities to Marie were striking - both were short, blonde, 'old', with large natural breasts and dominant. It was not surprising that Bill easily fell into his accustomed deferential manner with Clare.
They were also different - Clare's eyes were brown, Marie's blue; Clare's skin was deeply tanned, Marie's white; Clare appeared 20 years younger than Marie; Marie was fat, Clare though curvy was not; Clare's beauty would turns heads wherever she went, not so Marie; Clare was sophisticated, Marie not so much.
In the short time under Clare's roof Bill had become her submissive tenant: turning over his small savings as a deposit; signing a contract which formalized his obedience to her in their El Dorado community. He had been seduced into sex of such intensity that it left him unconscious for hours; he had drunk this woman's breast milk both from small bottles she provided and her engorged breasts themselves! He had ravenously eaten her delicious homemade cookies.
Bill was clearly already in thrall to Clare. He had been in bliss with his foster mother and landlady Marie. He had been shattered by her death. Did he really want that same type of relationship moving forward - with the certainty that he would suffer the same crippling loss when Clare inevitably aged and died before him?
These troubling thoughts etched on his young handsome face, Bill looked up from his bed and saw Clare watching him from the doorway that separated his studio apartment from her spacious two story one - she was naked!
As Clare intended, all thoughts other than overwhelming lust fled Bill's beleaguered brain.
Clare walked slowly, deliberately to his bed allowing Bill time to appreciate the full appeal of her mature body - short blonde hair pulled strait back; large, luminous brown eyes; small pert nose; full lips already glossed in blood red; expressive face delicately lined with experience; her fully tanned body moving catlike towards her prey; full breasts leaking milk from both swollen nipples; thick, supple thighs enclosing her glistening puffy pussy - Clare's large clit already apparent at its head; small feet with delicate toes - also painted blood red - padding inexorably towards him.
Bill sat motionless, surrendering silently, instinctively once again to this incredible woman.
Wordlessly, she knelt before him and pulled his loose shorts down his trembling legs.
She pushed his legs apart, took a heavy nut in each of her small hands, opened her sensuous mouth and licked up the underside of his large, bobbing shaft.
"AWWWW," Bill groaned in delight.
He could cum right then and looked hopefully down at the woman who now controlled him.
Clare devilishly smiled and shook her head, 'No!'
"OHHHH!" Bill groan in frustration.
