A Fucing Investment

This series has been quiescent for awhile but it is back. First, thanks to James L for helping with the edit. I appreciate the help. There is a lot more to this story to come. Hope you enjoy it. If you wish to be included in notifications of future episodes, send me a note with your email and I'll add you to my mailing list. Invest well! -C

*****

The day after Vidya affected me like a hangover. Our planned supper had been pushed because I got a call from Sharon. I ended up spending the rest of the evening working through a buyout contract that had gone south and needed attention. The business was rift with fraud but fat with assets so the whole thing was valuable but more trouble than we first assessed and figured into the acquisition budget. It was late, nearly one when we finished and I came up for air and realized I had stood Vidya up. I thought about sneaking over to her house and surprising her but then a wave of fatigue washed through me and I decided I wanted to sleep alone, with the accent on sleep.

So I went to sleep; it was more like a descent into catatonia. I hit the bed and did not stir till the doorbell roused me. I struggled awake, my body throbbed with fatigue. The bell rang again, a trill of deep chimes that were calculated to prevent being ignored. They hurt my teeth. I found my robe and stumbled to the door, feeling like it was still oh-dark thirty despite the blinding sunlight that penetrated my house.

I hesitated before the door, hand on the handle. I had a vision of an irate and hurt Vidya on the other side and steeled myself to the task of making it all up to her. I felt the thrill at the thought of the belly dancer. I opened the door.

"Hello!" The blond woman said, her brilliant smile made me wince.

"Mrs. Simpson." I said, unable to keep the disenchantment from my voice. Her smile dimmed. At that point, I noticed the man standing behind her. He was turned three-quarters away from stage front, me in other words and was staring at the ground, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, slouching and still.

Jennifer Simpson turned and glared at the man. "This is my husband, Jeff. We are here to sign the papers." She said, her voice dulled a bit. Her husband looked up to the sky. Jennifer's voice brightened. "Can we come in?"

For a moment I did not move. My momentary expectation that Vidya would be there had roused my cock and the feeling of her ass against my abdomen while her pussy enveloped my cock flashed through me and so I wore a tent in my pants. Jennifer's eyes dropped to my crotch and all hint of reservation in her mood vanished. Her eyes twinkled and she looked up into mine with a perfectly open and eager expression. She did not speak.

We stood like that for a while, till the man turned to look at us, hooked in by our curious silence.

My cock did not retreat. Jennifer wore a sleeveless blouse buttoned, well almost buttoned up the front. It was a curiously mixed plaid that suggested a country girl, except for the fact only the two buttons were fastened, one above and one below the ridge formed by her breasts. The blouse must have been a size or two small because it V'd above and below, showing cleavage and her white belly, pocked with her belly button. The perfect white skirt fell off her hips like a sheath of snow drifted down off a round house.

Vidya ghosted behind this provocative blond in my head. I shook it to clear her image from behind my eyes. I stared in the silence at this woman who had claimed to be attracted to being owned, my mind finally catching up with my body which was already responding to her. The blond had her intended affect and I was able to recognize it. I was awake. When the man looked at us, I felt the oddness of the moment and clicked into a socially acceptable mode.

"Of course, please come in. I am sorry, I had a late night and am getting a late start." I shook my head as I backed away from the door. "What day is it?"

Jennifer pursued me into the house. Jeff, her husband, followed, his loose-jointed gait seemed too casual by far given the circumstances. You'd think he was tense, given their purpose at my front door.

"Make yourselves at home. Let me take a shower and get dressed."

"No need." Jeff said laconically.

I ignored him. He was not sullen but he did not have the same perky eagerness his wife displayed. But then, a man selling his wife's body could hardly be expected to be dancing a jig at the prospect. I factored that into my estimate of the man. I left them in the living room with an apology. I trudged back to the shower. Fifteen minutes later I emerged, refreshed, filled with foreboding, the presence of Vidya surrounding me. I confess, all I wanted to do was to get the blond and her husband out of my house and consciousness so I could puzzle out how to deal with my neglect of the belly dancer. My instinct was to be apologetic but then I realized as I stepped out of the shower that I owned her too. I owed her nothing; she owed me. Standing her up was my right. I still felt like a shit, though. I just was less sure I was going to do anything about it. Maybe I just needed to get over it.

When I got to the living room, it was empty. I smelled coffee though and found Jennifer and Jeff in the kitchen. He slouched against the counter, sipping a cup, regarding my approach through his bushy black eyebrows. I stopped, meeting his gaze with my own, steady and clear. He did not look away but regarded me like he was looking through me.

"Mr. Gale. Good morning. I am sorry we got you out of bed." Jennifer said. "Coffee?"

I reflexively nodded, despite my preference for tea. Something about the woman made me want to please her. I had it all backwards in the ownership department. I took the proffered cup and sipped it. "Wow!" I said. "That is great! That may be the best coffee I ever tasted. What is it?"

"A secret." She said, delight enlightening her face.

"Jenny makes the best coffee in the world. The girl can cook, too. She'll make you fat as a tick."

I looked over at Jeff Simpson. I set down my coffee on the table, by the sheaf of papers there. "Joshua Gale." I said, extending my hand.

Jeff looked at my hand then lifted his eyes to mine. Finally he wiped a hand on his jeans and shook my hand. His grip was firm but his skin was clammy. I wanted to wipe my hand when he released it but I didn't.

"Please to meet you, Mr. Gale. Shall we get down to business?" He gestured at the papers on the table.

"Jeff, honey, don't be pushy." Jennifer said, her face clouding and a profound frown creasing her cheeks.

The man looked down at the floor and then sipped his coffee. A flush of color pinked his cheeks. He eyes tightened. Then he looked over at her. "I am sorry, Jennifer, I just want to get this over with."

I could see Jennifer was about to say something so I spoke into the pending scrum. "I respect a man who gets right down to business. Anything you need to discuss?"

Jeff shook his head, not looking at me or anything. His eyes seemed fixed six feet in front of him about knee high; or they were seeing something distant and not present at all.

I nodded. "I don't have the money, the cash I mean, right this moment." I did not make excuses; there was no need to explain how I spent the previous day. "I can get it this afternoon if you want."

Jeff waved a hand. "We signed what you need signed. I got a couple copies. One for both of us and one for you. You need them notarized or anything?"

"No, that is not necessary. This is, after all an informal agreement."

"Feels pretty official to me." He said, he set down the coffee cup. "Do you want to look over the docs? We added a couple things. I want us to be clear that you own her. She is yours." He looked around. "I'll be right back."

He slouched out of the kitchen and a moment later I heard the front door open and close. I sat at the table, ignoring Jenny. She sipped her coffee. I flipped through the contract, looking for notations. I found a couple and read them over.

"Jenny Simpson will be owned full body for use and at the whim of Joshua Gale till the debt is repaid. The debt will be retired at his discretion for services rendered by Mrs. Simpson. Jeff Simpson will have no further responsibilities for her body." The scrawl ran across the bottom of a page. Both of them had initialized it. The legalese in the contract must not have satisfied them. The door opened and closed. I heard Jeff arrive behind me.

"Hand me a pen." I said to Jennifer.

She did and when I took it from her hand and looked up at her, she beamed. The moment felt surreal and for a moment, I felt the strangeness of what I was doing. The strangeness would never stop me but I savored it for a moment, like a strange spice that tasted familiar. For some reason, not knowing what was going to happen next was a relief from the inevitability of how my businesses tended to operate. We could see the future coming as us like an avalanche and sometimes that bored me to tears. At this moment, initialing and signing the contract that would transfer this woman's body to my control, I felt the difference in my life. The back of my neck tingled. I felt Jeff behind me and thought I should look around at him.

I had some speech about how odd this must be for him and that he should feel free to discuss anything that becomes onerous, I could be very open minded but his sex with his wife was over for the moment. I was going to review the fiscal penalties for availing himself of his wife's sexual abilities in the future. However, seeing him standing behind me with two pink suitcases, one in each hand stopped my toiling mind from giving those thoughts voice by changing them. "What's this?" I asked, puzzled.

Mr. Simpson set the suitcases on the carpet. His eyes were tense. He had something in his hand. He moved to his wife and, while I looked on, he fastened a collar around her perfect neck. It was a black, studded collar with chrome studs. He turned it around till he found an eye fixed delicately into the shiny black leather. He released a delicate chain from one hand. It dropped to the floor, maybe six or eight feet of fine-linked silver chain. He clicked the end into the eye on the collar and then gathered up the chain.

Jennifer looked like she was about the burst. Her eyes shone and she was continually licking her lips, her pink tongue swiping over them again and again like she was staring at her favorite food. The most striking thing was her silence. Throughout the whole procedure, she did not move nor speak. Her lips trembled a little when the chain dropped down the front of her body, brushing over her breasts as it dangled from the collar around her neck.

"What are you doing?" I said, stunned by what I was seeing.

Jeff Simpson stepped over to me, jerking on the chain which made Jennifer take an awkward step forward. He extended the end of the chain to me. "She is yours," he said. He held his stance and pose till I took the chain from his hand. "Fuck her, don't fuck her, sell her, rent her, ignore her, she is yours." When I did not respond to him into the silence between us, he nodded and walked away from us. He disappeared around the corner.

I sat holding Jennifer Simpson's chain in my hand, nonplussed and thrilled and confused by the obviousness of the action in light of what I was asking. I did not hear the door open and after a moment, turned to look in the direction where Jeff had disappeared. A moment later, as if sensing I was looking at him, he reappeared, walking to the table, standing back from me a couple feet.

"Stand up." He said, through gritted teeth.

I looked up at him and not liking that feeling, I got to my feet.

He moved with catlike agility, a simple but emphatic motion. He grabbed me by the shirt, just below the chin and put his face very close to me. His breath struck me in the face. I smelled chewing tobacco. "You own her but if you lay a hand on her, mark her or do anything to hurt her, I swear to you I will kill you." Then he smiled, "I will have you killed and not easily. Own her but if you fucking hurt her . . . " His voice trailed off.

I looked slowly over at Jennifer and she appeared to be swelling with pride, her hands clasped before her, right over her pussy, blending perfectly against the brilliant white skirt. Her eyes shone and she was shifting her weight back and forth, popping her knees up and back as she fidgeted. The motion made her hips sway invitingly back and forth. She was a vision. I looked back at Jeff.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked, seriously, feeling my shirt tight about my neck.

Jeff held me for a couple more heartbeats before releasing his grip. He nodded. "She, she has always wanted to be a love slave. She wanted me to own her, to put that collar on her for years, since our first Christmas. She gave it to me, with the chain and waited for me to put it onto her neck." He shook his head, stepping back from me, his whole body communicating the will to flee resisted by his inner strength. "I am not that guy. I loved her but she wants to kneel and to have me order her around and fuck her like a whore all the time. She wanted me to share her with my friends, to, to sell her when we were on vacation. None of that is me. I fucking hated it. But it made her miserable, being with me like I am.

"She says she wanted a little less Madonna and a little more whore in my treatment of her. Not the Madonna, the other Madonna, in Rome. Jennifer has been so unhappy with me. I just want her to be happy. Selling her," he half smiled, an expression that might have been a smirk but his eyes belied that. They crinkled with tension and stress.

"She is yours. Perhaps you can make her happy. If you sell her cunt, rent it out like a whore, that should make her happy. If you do that...I, I just couldn't. That's why..." He gestured at his lovely wife and the sagging chain draped from my hand to her white, porcelain neck. "That's why we are here. Why we are doing this." He grinned then, an expressionless mask covered his face leaving only his dark eyes, small and tense. "That and the money. We need the money but...but she wants this, to be this to you, for you." He shook his head and in that moment his shoulders relaxed, dropping a few inches and he wiped his eyes with thumb and forefinger. Everything about him spoke of relief. "She is yours now."

I nodded, still stunned. While I commanded many, many people none of them were attached to me with a collar and chain; there was the right to work for me as well as the implied right to quit and betray me. I took the responsibility of being the boss seriously and relied on inducements and incentives to gain and keep loyalty. I had avoided or never faced this sort of connection to a woman. My hand got heavy and I lowered it, slowly.

Jeff Simpson turned to go but then stopped, his back to me. "Uh, there is one other thing. Her sister is coming to stay with us for a weekend. Jennifer should probably come back for that time. If you agree to that, we are fine. In fact, any time we have guests who know us, I would like Jennifer to come back to the house. Is that all right?"

His tone and manner had been all direction and authority but now his voice cracked over his shoulder at us.

"That's fine." I said immediately being my normal agreeable self. "When?"

"I'll let Jennifer know." Jeff said and walked out of the door.

I was dumbstruck. My thumb ran over the fine links of the silver chain. After a moment, I looked at Jennifer. Tension tightened her face. She watched me like a hawk watches a rat caught in the open, which seems ironic in its way. Curious how it felt, then, not clear who controlled this relationship, the owner or the owned. I glanced down at the chain in my hands and then back at Jennifer. Her face did not change. I stood up. She took a step back. I moved towards her and she moved back, real fear tinging her expression. She pressed against the kitchen counter as I approached. Before her, I reached for her hand and lifted it up between us. I held still till she looked from my eyes to her own hand. I put the chain into her hand and stepped back.

"Mrs. Simpson, I think you misunderstood this arrangement. It does not involve chains or collars or moving into my house." I spoke in a voice I did not recognize. I sounded...I did not sound like myself. "You need to make other arrangements."

For a dozen heartbeats, she did not move; her eyes did not blink. Her hand stayed between us, the slight silver chain tucked between her fingers. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. "I don't think I have what you want." I croaked.

My voice snapped her out of her trance, or her reverie. She smiled. She dropped the chain. She fingered the collar, turning it till she figured out the buckle. She opened it, bending the leather tongue and releasing the pin that held it cinched around her neck. "Mr. Gale, let's take a moment. A moment of your time, that is all I ask." The collar opened and she removed it from around her neck. She gathered up the chain and then extended it all to me. "This is yours. Hold onto it and then, well, we'll see. At least listen for a while."

I nodded but I did not take the collar from her. I needed a drink but it wasn't noon so I got a glass of water and downed it. It did not help. I turned away from the sink and found Jennifer sitting at the table. She watched me, her big blue eyes crystal clear and wide open. Mine must have been wide closed because she chuckled. Not a girlish giggle but a subdued laugh of a very self-assured woman.

It scared me a little bit.

"Please sit down." She said, moving a chair out from the table. I found my way to it and as I moved past her, her hand caressed my still very hard dick. Her touch unnerved me. When her hand left me, I wanted it back. I felt a longing for her touch again, like the moment a cool breeze ends in a blistering hot summer's day.

I sat down. I had that feeling you get after waking from a very vivid dream; the feeling that you are not sure you are awake.

"You really have not thought this whole concept of owning women through very thoroughly have you?" She asked, watching me.

I duly shook my head. I had, really, but it did not seem like I should disagree with her at that moment. Then it struck me that I owned her, not the other way around. My back straightened. "Mrs. Simpson," I was about to berate her but hesitated. In mid-sentence I changed my tack. "Why don't you tell me what you have in mind, please. Pretend for the moment that you did not just sign a contract to give me your body and that your husband did not just leave you and your luggage in my front room. Tell me what I am missing."

She sort of smirked but it transformed into a smile and it left her beaming. "I am making lemonade out of lemons, Joshua, er, Mr. Gale." She glanced away, in the direction that Jeff had exited. "All of our marriage, I have been pushing Jeff to take the lead, to be a man and not a man-child. I realized, eventually I was undercutting him, demeaning him, fighting against him in everything. I changed my approach. I told him he had to lead, he had to own me and make me his bitch, make me do what he wanted. I would not fight him, but I would never volunteer to do anything." She shrugged expansively and her breasts roiled, demanding I stare. I did.

When my eyes left her breasts, Jennifer continued. "I decided to leave the running of our life to him and told him so. I told him that I had a fantasy, that he would tie me up and fuck me, that he would offer me to his friends . . . I said 'offer' without any clear idea of whether he would ever let them have me or not. The whole idea was for him to control me, to use me, sexually, for his benefit whatever that was. For a while, he blended with that. He ordered me around. We played at having a maid and I was the maid and he would demand things of me before bending me over the table and mounting me like a stallion. I sucked his cock. Anytime. Anywhere. All he had to do was ask. I swallow, Mr. Gale. I will always swallow. I like that slick, smooth feeling of cum in my mouth." She actually shivered.