Sammee Ch 09

Chapter Nine

Friday was my busy day with two classes to teach, two to take, and then an early evening, well, 5:00 methods seminar. That made it almost 7:00 when I got home.

When I got home and walked into the family room Sammee looked absolutely stunning. No chastity belt and scrub brush this time. She was in the bright blue outfit we had bought her that first shopping spree. The bright blue matched the blue of her eye shadow. Her breasts were in titsacks and the long flowing pants reached the floor. Her back was bare, the stainless steel chastity belt showing where the outfit's back was cut low, right to the beginning of her asscrack. And one of the little target tattoos was on her cheek, right in the middle of the bruise.

When I touched the target she said, "it's fading and, well, I want everybody to know."

"Half and Half tonight then?" I asked.

"Yep," she said, "and you're the nekkid half so get those clothes off and get your skinny ass in here properly attired."

So I went into the bedroom, stripped my clothes off and tossed them in the hamper and went back to her dressed only in the cock cage.

"God you are beautiful," she said making me laugh.

"Now you're stealing my lines," I said.

"One more thing and we're ready to go," she said.

She reached into her purse and pulled out the posture collar. I felt the sudden adrenaline rush when I saw it. Hell, I had forgotten about the thing.

She pointed to the floor in front of her and I got to my knees, looking up at her.

She was gentle as she fitted the collar to my neck, the forks adjusted so that as long as I held my chin up I didn't stab myself. When she was done she walked me to the bedroom and stood me in front of the full length mirror.

There was that twinge in my cock as it tried to get hard. When I sort of hunched the fork under my chin stabbed and I straightened, lifting my chin.

"Oh, that works nicely," she said, smiling and patting my ass.

"Come along baby," she said, beckoning me, "I'm driving."

"I'm not getting dressed?" I asked, although I knew what the answer was.

She touched the cage and then the collar and said, "you look great, honey."

So I followed her, opened the door as she got in the car, the Yukon this time. The leather was cold on my bare ass and back. I felt my nipples get hard and my dick shrink, and I giggled.

"What?" she asked, opening the garage door and getting moving.

"My ass hit this cold leather, my dick disappeared, and my nipples are as hard as yours get," I said.

She reached over and gave my left nipple, the nearest her, a quick twist making me yelp.

She sang along with Roy Orbison's Crying as we headed to Half and Half.

At least it was dark when we got there. I ran around the car, opened her door, and walked with her across the parking lot, certain every car I heard was the cop who would bust me. But we made it inside and the Reacher clone (his name, it turned out, was Steve) smiled. Sammee went into her purse and came out with a very fancy card, complete with a photograph. He inspected it carefully and then said, "Welcome to Half and Half, Samantha," and did the half bow and arm sweep thing indicating we could pass.

We went in, holding hands, and looked around. The hostess, this one a woman with two immense breasts displayed by having matched collars around their base and a fine silver chain around her neck, led us to a small two-top table. Sammee beckoned her and whispered into her ear. She smiled and nodded and headed to another part of the room.

I seated Sammee but when I started to the other side of the table she said, "hold it buster."

I stopped and waited.

A few moments later the hostess was back and handed me a pad with dents that were obviously intended for knees.

I looked at Sammee and she smiled and pointed to the floor to her right.

And my dick hurt again as it tried to get hard.

I put the pad down and then got to my knees beside her.

She patted my head and said, "good boy."

My dick twinged again.

She ordered a pitcher of beer, two triple cheeseburgers, a large order of French fries.

Then she stood and offered her hand.

"Dance with me David," she said.

I stood and she led me to the dancefloor. I realized what she had meant our first time here. I just KNEW every eye was on me.

As we danced, her hand exploring my back and ass, she leaned in and said softly, "will you slap the target?"

"Sammee," I said, my voice rising showing my reluctance.

"Please," she said.

When I waited she said, "fuckpig."

"Dammit Sammee," I said.

"Cumdump," she said and I slapped her, hard enough that most of the people in the place looked to see where the sound came from.

She smiled and took me into her arms and we danced some more.

"Fuckpig," she said again and I leaned back far enough to slap her but keep the dance going.

Before the song ended, a passagle orchestral rendition of Blue Hawaii, I had slapped her three more times before she finally relented and said, "fat girlfriend."

Back at the table she pointed and I got to my knees beside her.

When the food arrived I looked up at her expectantly.

She grinned and handed me a glass of beer.

"Don't worry sweetcheeks," she said, "you'll get fed later."

We both looked up when she came to the table. It was that striking woman I had noticed, our first time here. I guessed her in her 70s, handsome rather than cute or pretty, with a bit of a hawk nose and deep set dark eyes. Most striking was that she was one of those women who lose every fat cell they ever had when menopause struck. She was bone thin although clearly not anorexic or anything. The biggest thing on her arms were her elbows and on her legs were her knees. Her voice, when she spoke, was about what you'd expect, whisky and cigarette course.

"He's darling," she said, "can I pet him."

Sammee smiled up at her and then down at me and said, "sure. He won't bite."

When she reached down and stroked my hair I couldn't flinch away or I would get stabbed in the chin. Besides that, I didn't want to. My dick was trying to get hard again.

"I see that you two are switchers," she said, amiably, scratching me behind the ear.

"Switchers?" Sammee asked, taking another healthy bite from her first sandwich.

"Yes dear," she said tolerantly, "last time it was you who was naked, now it's him. Switchers."

"Well, we hadn't discussed it enough to label it," Sammee said, wiping her mouth daintily, "but I suppose we are at that."

"Well," the older woman said, "I am Victoria. I've been in The Life," and the way she said it the capitalization was clear, "for a long time so if you'd like to, well, talk about things give me a call," and she handed Sammee a business card. Well, I guess it was technically a calling card since it only had "Victoria" and a phone number on it.

She gave me another pat on the head and said, "he IS adorable," and walked back to her table where the fat boy of indeterminant age waited.

Sammee reached over and patted me on the head, grinning. I laid my cheek on her lap.

She finished both sandwiches and her fries and beer, giving me an occasional drink of beer. When she was done she pushed her plates away and sat back with a contented sigh.

"Come on sweet cheeks," she said, standing and leading me to the dance floor again.

We danced a couple of more dances and had a couple of more beers.

"Hungry?" she asked.

"Starved," I said.

"Okay," she said, "let's go home."

It didn't bother me to walk naked across the parking lot this time.

On the way home she stopped at the Safeway store.

"I thought about making you go in," she said, "but I'm feeling nice so you stay here."

I watched as she walked in, fascinated that she would go into a public store dressed like that, even though it was getting late.

When she came back, carrying just one bag, she tossed it into the back and hopped in. She was flushed and obviously excited.

"God," she said loudly, "I think I LIKE The Life," and there was the capitalization again.

Back home she had me sit at the kitchen table.

When she came back into the kitchen all she had on was the chastity belt.

"Undo me please," she said, and I did.

She left the kitchen again and was back in just a minute.

"Are you going to undo me?" I asked.

She flashed the Grin. "Maybe," she said.

"Still hungry?" she asked.

"Famished," I said.

She went to the cabinet and pulled out the big bowl she used to mix salads.

As I watched she sat the bowl in the sink and then leaned over and stuck two fingers in her mouth.

I yelped as my cock tried to expand when I realized what was going to happen.

She threw up, noisily, over and over until she was down to weak gasps.

She turned and smiled at me, thick snot running down from her mouth to her big tits.

Then she sat the bowl on the floor and squatted.

I watched as she shit and pissed into the bowl.

She put the bowl on the table and very tenderly undid the collar.

She put a spoon on the table beside the bowl and said, smiling, "dinner is served."

My cock was killing me.

I watched, still gathering myself for what I was going to do, as she picked her nose, lubricated her nipples, latched on with the breast pump, and then started in on the gallon of Rocky Road she had purchased.

"Well," she said, looking at me with one eyebrow raised.

So I dipped the spoon into the mess, took a deep breath, and put it in my mouth.

It was bitter and slimy, but when I swallowed it stayed down.

The shit was easier since I knew what to expect with it.

The salty taste of piss seemed to actually help with the puke.

She had a contented smile on her face as she watched me eat.

Maybe it was the Rocky Road she was eating.

As I ate more and more of the thick soup I can't say that I liked it. The taste remained bitter and the acid still burned my throat. And I knew, on some level that didn't matter, that this was an ultimate degradation.

And I liked it.

"What?" she asked conversationally as I smiled at her.

"I was just thinking," I said, my tongue capturing a string of thick snot that was trying to get away from my spoon, "how much I've changed from the skinny-chasing cockhound I was a couple of weeks ago."

I took another spoonful of puke, slurping noisily, and then smacking my lips.

She caressed her cheek and said, "yes baby, and I was once the quiet fat girl who once in a while pretended to be a worldwise cougar."

I spooned in a healthy mouthful of shit and smiled at her.

"I love you," I said.

She spooned in a big mouthful of Rocky Road, smacked her lips, smiled, and said "I love you, too."

I finished my special dinner, making her laugh when I lifted the bowl and licked it clean.

I stood and offered my hand. The Rocky Road was about a third full still, so I brought it with us when we went into the bedroom.

I got to my knees and kissed her feet.

"Please unlock me," I said.

She smiled and crooked a finger, beckoning me to stand. I stood and she lifted the key over her head, and freed me.

I fed her the rest of her ice cream as she laid back on her pillows.

When the ice cream was done I took the container into the kitchen and threw it away.

When I came back she was posed fetchingly so I crawled onto the bed and squirmed up, finding her pussy with my mouth. She moaned nicely as my tongue probed, flicking at her clitoris.

I brought her to climax three times before she pushed me away, giggling, saying, "no more,"

So I crawled up and slipped inside her where she was slick and ready.

And the thing was, I was in no particular hurry to finish. I was so completely hers that I was happy to just fill her, to be surrounded by her. She had nourished my body with hers and now I was giving her pleasure with mine.

She was humming contentedly as I kissed and nuzzled.

"Did you ever imagine anything like this?" she asked.

"No, nothing even close," I said.

She pushed me up enough to meet my eyes.

She smiled, widely, a true smile not the Grin.

"Fuckpig," she said.

And I felt my own mouth turning up into a smile as I slapped her, hard, right on the target.

She came suddenly and that brought me over the top too.

I relaxed, feeling her warmth and softness enfolding me.

"I love you," I whispered.

And went to sleep.