Sam Laura and Joanne

The Decision

They ate lunch together at least three times a week. She was semi-retired from the law firm she founded. She worked when she wanted; her office was in the same building as Sam's. Sam was a political consultant. They usually ate in the bar down the street from their building.

"You know Sam, I'm not wanting you to leave her. I want us to be a family."

"I know, it's just..."

"Sam," she cut in, "I'm 56 years old. I've done this a few times before you know. Not to seem immodest but I'm very good at it and Laura's a very nice woman. I like her; I

love

her, just like you. I wouldn't want to hurt her either."

"It's just that, well, I like the idea. Hell," he laughed, "I love the idea...every time I think about it, I get so aroused. I'm like a teenage boy."

She whispered across the table, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "Yeah, I know. Remember the last time we talked about it in bed? I've never seen a lover's cum hit my ceiling fan before."

Sam grinned sheepishly, "I did, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. You know Sam they say the force of the male ejaculation is directly related to reproduction. The more powerful the ejaculation the better chance the man has to

breed

the woman. You wanting to breed your new

bitch

, Sam?"

Sam looked down at the table, feeling a flush cross his cheeks. She was turning him on just by her conversation; she made him feel young despite the fact that he was 46. "Hey, I can imagine you ..."

Their server brought their food and they waited until they were alone before talking again.

Sam finished his thought, "I can see you with a big belly. You'd look very sexy pregnant."

Joanne hesitated a moment and eyed her lunch companion, "Uh huh. Well, anyway Sam, Laura and I are getting to be good friends. I think she's ready. If I get the sense she's going to be emotionally hurt or that I'm endangering your marriage I'll back off. Promise."

"So, uh, why me?"

Her fork half way to her mouth, she stopped and looked at him, "'Why you' what?"

"Why'd you pick me to be your lover? Why do you give yourself to me the way you do? Why do you let me do the things I do to you?"

"Well...," she started slowly, taking the bite that she held and then going back to her salad, "you

did

hit on me first, remember?"

"Yeah, but you could have said 'no'."

"But I didn't, right? And, by the way,

why

did you hit on me?"

He smiled and took a bite of his Reuben. "I'd noticed you. I'd been watching you for weeks. I think the first time you were wearing that steel gray suit with no blouse. And it was like you were holding court at your table. The men and women sitting with you were clearly your courtiers; you took no shit from anyone and they seemed to hang on every word out of your mouth. You just, I don't know, you just radiated a kind of power and that appealed to me."

She crunched a crouton, "So, you're into the power, eh. You know, I

can feel it

when you fuck me; when you whip me." There was the mischievous twinkle again.

"Uh, eh, well...I am a political consultant," he shrugged, feeling a little foolish. He cleared his voice, "Well, back to you. Why didn't you say 'no'? I mean I'm a relative wall flower compared to those guys you lunched with."

He took another bite of his sandwich, she looked down and picked a bite of salad, "Well, as for my lunch companions, they're all associates in my firm. They know they damn well should be hanging on my every word. I have

vast

powers; I can grant partnerships," she smiled a semi-evil smile. "But Sam, I swear to God, they're all in lust with me but," she pointed her fork at him and grinned, "none of those barracudas has the balls to come on to me, not even the women.

"Oh, there's the usual brown nosing, but nobody has made a play. I mean I have a guy, an associate bucking for partner. He can foreclose on a widow's house, deflower her virgin daughter and then tie the debauched daughter to the railroad tracks all before lunch and then

brag

about it at lunch. Christ, sometimes I wonder if the Serpent in the Garden has more ethics than this guy. He's good.

"And divorces, oh my sweet Jesus! I'm always hearing about him shamelessly banging the divorcee even before they get to the property settlement phase. But when it comes to me," she laughed quietly to herself, stabbed an Italian pepper from her salad and crunched it, a little bit of juice running down her chin, "when it comes to me...," she shook her head.

Sam leaned across the table and wiped her chin.

"Mmmm, thanks.

"Well, I got tired of waiting for him so I decided he's going to fuck me in his office. I wanted to see what was so special that all the divorced women were so wild about," she paused, "The moment of truth comes and he couldn't get it up to save his life!

"Any way, you don't seem to have that problem. You seem like a decent guy. And I had you checked out too. You are the

exact

mix I've been looking for in a lover since my husband passed away."

"And what kind of mix is that?"

"You are a decent guy. But when push comes to shove, my investigator's report says Machiavelli would be proud. You can be what my former husband called,

a gentleman pirate

. And now that we've been together, de Sade would appreciate your appetites though not your attitudes."

"And pray tell, what would de Sade have against my attitude?"

"Oh Sam, I'll be disappointed if you don't know what separates you from him. Or are you just toying with me?"

"Just toying," he grinned. "You know it all has to be consensual and de Sade took his greatest pleasures non-consensually."

"Hmmmm," she smiled warmly, "that's your mix. That's what my husband had. He seduced me, debauched me and married me all when I was 18. We were married for the next 28 years. He was an excellent man, an excellent lover and master. He opened the world to me sensually.

"After he passed away I didn't know if I'd survive. There was this vacuum, emotional, spiritual, and physical. Handcuffing myself to my headboard just wasn't the same, you know?" She did a Groucho Marx with her eyebrows; her smile was dazzling and quirky at the same time, at least to Sam. Sam could deny her nothing when she looked at him in "her way" and Sam would find out, neither could most people.

"I spent a year or two whoring around. I played the Domme to a young lesbian for a few years. My last relationship was with a young couple. It ended a year ago. We'd been together five years.

"My husband and master had this thing after he had me trained to his liking. He absolutely loved having me seduce women, so we could both Dom them. If the woman was married, Robert would usually whore me out to the husband and then let me play with the woman after he was finished with her. God," her voice dropped off and Sam could see she was fondly remembering past events.

"Anyway," she came back, "like I was saying, my last relationship, was with this young couple, we were a family. I taught the wife to be submissive and the husband to be a good master. And, we're still a family. I'm godmother to their children."

"What happened to end it?"

"They moved back east and I just didn't want to pull up stakes. Being alone was fine for a while but then you came along."

Sam leaned back in the booth and took a sip of his drink. "Wow. I don't know what to say."

"Here's what you say Sam, 'I'll think about it.' If it's just you and me, I'm more than pleased. If you want to bring Laura into this, I think you'd like it," she looked him in the eyes, her eyes penetrating and twinkling - and that smile, "and I'd love it. And if I haven't lost the touch, Laura's going to love it too." She was silent a moment then, without looking up, she said quietly, "I want a family, Sam. I want to be a part of a family. The

powerful Oz

deep down is lonely."

"Okay, I'll think about it."

"Great...Thank you

My Master

," she whispered across the table.

~~~~~~~~~~

The look on Laura Williams' face alternated between bliss and severe concentration.

She rode up and down on her husband Sam's cock. She controlled the speed, controlled the amount of depth she let his cock go in, controlled where he touched her and how.

Currently his fingertips were lightly caressing her hips. She whispered a breathy, plaintive whisper: "Play with my nipples."

He moved his hands. She sat down hard on his cock, mashing her entire mound hard against him, feeling the tip poke at and deflect off her cervix.

She rocked once, twice, three times. Her face turned down, eyes tightly closed, panting shallowly. She looped her hair over her ears, licked her lips and then made a series of small, high-pitched noises.

Moments later she sighed and bent down to lay on top of Sam.

Sam kissed her gently and repeatedly as she got her breath.

Shortly she rolled off him and laid with her back to him. He caressed her back until he heard the steady rhythm of her breathing in sleep. He knew better than to wake her so he could take his pleasure.

Sam got out of bed and went down to his study and made a phone call.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Joanne, hey, it's me. What are you up to?"

"Mmmmmm, I'm just laying here in my empty bed, legs spread, sweaty, just frigging myself; waiting for you to call."

"Is it good?"

"Very, but it's lonely. Want to use me? I have this nagging ache to be called names while you whip me with the crop I bought you last week."

"Be over in 20 minutes."

"I can't wait."

Joanne Durham hung up the phone and went back to masturbating; the only light coming in from the street through her partially closed blinds.

Her eyes were tightly closed and her teeth clenched as she stroked her clit, occasionally switching to lightly pulling on the ring in its hood. Her other hand pinched and pulled a nipple while she fantasized.

In her mind's eye she alternated between two fantasy scenes.

In one scene she was the submissive. Her lover was alternating soft strokes of a deerskin flogger between her breasts and belly. The strokes fully covered her nipples and came tantalizing close to her mons and her distended clit.

All the while she heard her lover's voice debasing her, egging her on as he flogged her.

In the other scene, Joanne was a mistress ravishing a red haired younger woman with a thick, long strapon.

She held the younger woman tightly by the hips in the doggy position as she fucked her hard and fast; the younger woman's voice high and pleading, begging her mistress to fuck her harder, to use her

slut body

. And it was driving Joanne mad with lust to fuck this slut harder in her mind.

She was really fantasizing about Sam and Laura. Though the scene with Sam she had experienced many times since they became lovers; he loved to whip her though he was partial to the crop and Joanne loved the flogger.

She was so very close; so very close to coming.

Fingers on nipple and clit; her sex so full and slick, it was maddening, delicious, but in her late 50's she had mastered keeping herself

on the edge

for hours. She was switching between scenes in her mind when she felt the penetration and her body involuntarily jerked at the intimate and forceful violation and she went over the edge with a grunt and a moan.

Sam was standing next to her, penetrating her with the handle of the crop she had bought as a present for him.

Her body stiffened, her cunt convulsed tightly around the leather covered cane handle and she felt the warmth and pulsing of her orgasm fill her belly and spread upwards. She stretched, eyes closed, a couple of fingers playing on the edge of her mouth and rode the wave.

"You were absolutely magnificent my dear. There is nothing so beautiful in the entire world as a woman's face contorted in the throes of orgasm - or pleasurable pain."

Sam knelt with one leg on the bed and put his fingers in her short-cropped salt and pepper hair, "Unzip me and suck me, cunt."

Joanne shifted her body and unzipped him. She was mildly surprised that he wore no underwear. She reached inside to pull his cock out and noticed it was sticky in some places, slimy in others.

She looked up at him questioningly. "Sam?"

"Go ahead, Joanne, suck it. And it's

Master

to you, you worthless fucking cunt."

She licked his cock head like she was licking a Tootsie Pop and smiled, "Is

this

what I think?"

"Who, besides you, am I fucking - at least for now? Roll over on your back so I can finger you while you suck me off."

As she rolled over she kept her eyes fixed on his, "Does this mean

yes

?" she asked eagerly but quietly.

He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face. Smiling, he said, "What do you think, cunt?"

Joanne laughed with joy and with him gently pushing the back of her head she took his cock fully in her mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~

Joanne Durham, Chameleon

Joanne Durham would be a study in contrasts if more than a handful of people truly knew her. She made sure she played the appropriate, expected role to the appropriate audience and in this sense she was a chameleon in a society that increasingly demanded conformity to an ideology and/or a theology. But Joanne had a strong sense of personal integrity. Though she played her various roles, she was not acting, not a hypocrite. If push came to shove she would always speak her mind.

To her partners and associates at the law firm she founded she was the smart, aggressive lawyer whom you always wanted on your side and never against you.

To her former husband's family, whom she kept in regular touch with, she was the favorite aunt to the nieces and nephews of her husband's two sisters and one brother. To the two sisters, she was the favorite sister-in-law that they would have lunch with once or twice a month and maybe go on a family vacation with.

They knew her as a devout Christian and as their brother's wife whom he loved more than life itself. They never knew what kind of intimate life their brother and Joanne enjoyed.

To the church congregation she attended almost every Sunday she was the elegant, handsome, successful attorney and business woman/widow who was deeply devout. At least twice a year she would teach an adult Sunday school class.

To the polyamorist, gay, lesbian, and transgendered sexual advocacy groups she would do

pro bono

legal work for, they had no idea that she was a very devout Christian who, though sexually liberated, very bi-sexual and deeply into the more esoteric aspects of sex, generally disagreed strongly with most, if not all, of the political agendas of their respective causes. She was not pro-choice but neither was she pro-life.

"Feminist" was generally a dirty word to her and would take it as an insult if ever called one. She generally voted Republican or Libertarian. She gave significant amounts of money to both parties. She privately felt that Hell could not possibly burn hot enough for some Democratic political leaders. But those were

her

private thoughts.

To the occasional lover she took after her husband's passing, she was whatever the situation called for. Her first woman lover was a young woman that required training as a submissive. She trained her. But the relationship was played out entirely within the confines of Joanne's home or where ever Joanne wanted to have her submissive sexually; the context was entirely sexual and not emotional beyond a shallow friendship.

Her next such relationship was reversed; she was the submissive to a woman half her age. Never did other aspects of personal life, emotion or love play into the relationship. She was there to use or be used, nothing more, nothing less.

It was to the young family she had been with whom she became emotionally involved. She was a lover to both the husband and wife and a surrogate grandmother to the children. With them she shared her life. They saw her cry, saw her sick and depressed. But also they saw her bring joy into their home and into they lives. And likewise, she made the emotional investment in the couple and their children.

When they moved to the east coast Joanne felt the great emptiness she felt when her husband died. Now Sam Williams was filling that void - and hopefully, so would his wife, Laura.

At 56 she looked maybe 50. She was tall and handsome with razor cut, close cropped salt and pepper, silver and black hair that she never bothered to color and that was just long enough for Sam to get a tight grip in if he wanted. Her legs were long and toned from running ten miles a week but she had a full, soft belly that defeated all attempts to flatten and tone it. She liked it now. It went well with her full, loose breasts that succumbed to gravity a little more with each passing year.

Her most prominent feature though was piercing slate gray eyes that gave her an ethereal quality. Those eyes drew friends and lovers to her like the Pied Piper of Hamlin magically drawing rats. But they gave a slightly demonic quality to those she faced as adversaries in her law practice. And one could feel quite uncomfortable, spooked even, by her stare that felt ice cold and malevolent.

She had been Sam's lover and slave - her preference rather than the word submissive - for a year and knew Laura for a little more than eight months. Immediately she was drawn to Laura. A non-worldly wise woman, 44 years old with red hair and porcelain white skin and the body of

Venus rising from the sea

- the rounded belly, full hips and slack, small breasts from birthing three of Sam's sons.

But as much as Sam had been fascinated by the idea of bringing Laura into the relationship he was wary and always told Joanne "no" whenever the subject came up. Finding out that he was being unfaithful to Laura would have been hurtful enough; Sam was always afraid of doing more emotional damage to Laura by a failed attempt to get her into a polyamorist triad, let alone one that was extremely sexual and into extreme BDSM with Joanne.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rough Play in the Dungeon

A few nights later, Joanne stood on her tiptoes, her arms extended over her head, her hands handcuffed to a strong spring in an eyehook in the ceiling of her basement. The strong spring was a safety device. If necessary, Joanne could exert enough downward pressure on the spring so that she could stand flat if she needed to.

She was blindfolded and gagged with a large ball gag that painfully distended her jaw. Her ass was violated with a dildo, larger than she was accustomed. It violated her deeply as well as by its circumference. She wondered if Sam was trying to tear her rather than open her in the way he took her with it but she reveled in his violating her this way. Whether it was with a dildo, a whip handle, a beer bottle or his cock, Sam had a way that always made the penetration of her sex, ass or mouth so

very, very intimate

and it drove her wild each and every time.

The instrument of her violation had two small nylon cords attached to its base. The cords extended over her shoulders and connected to nipple clamps. The nipple clamps coupled with the tension of the cords distended her long, full nipples and pulled her large, loose breasts up toward her chin, stretching them taut. Any movement of her sphincter against the dildo would change the tension on her breasts, either increasing or decreasing her pain - and her pleasure.

Sam circled her, striking her randomly with his crop, while quietly debasing her as a whore and a cunt and many other things. She was so turned on, so loved it, when he verbally abused her. Gradually he focused the sharp leather strikes against the delicate skin under her pulled taut breasts and over her soft belly and mons. Her sex was getting heavier and wetter to the point she wanted to spit the gag out and beg that he take her.