Friday morning and Heather was up bright and early, prancing around nervously, her naked tits wiggled and waggled around with her excited movements. I just propped myself up on my elbow and watched the show.
I looked down at the comforter and for the first time, noticed cum stains. I knew they were not mine; they were probably left by Don when he pulled out of Heather after fucking her in the ass yesterday.
I felt strange seeing another man's semen on the bed covers of the bed where Heather and I slept, just another reminder of how far Heather and I have fallen into depravation these last couple of weeks.
On the corner of the dresser, the stack of hundred dollar bills remained as Don had left them. All in accordance with the rules followed by prostitutes and their Johns. Pay up front but leave it out so she doesn't take the money and run off.
Heather had not even bothered adding them to her stash. She left them just the way Don had put them.
I picked up the stack of bills and counted them out. I was relieved to see that they actually were all hundreds; at least Don had not tried to cheat her. To my surprise, when I finished there was $2,200 instead of $2,000; apparently Don had more than he said. Oh well, at least he had tipped Heather; she must have been better than he thought she would be.
Heather was very excited and anxious as she rushed around almost frantic, whatever her owner, Sy, had planned had Heather frazzled. True to her word, she would not tell me. She just said it was something from my favorite stories and that I wanted her to do it but that I would only find out "if her owner wanted me to" know.
"Where did they go?" She asked desperately to no one in particular.
"Where did what go?" I asked back.
"Huh, what?" She said without thinking. "Where did the handcuffs go? I have to have them." She said as she realized that I actually was in the room with her.
I picked them up off of the dresser where she had left them and handed them to her.
"Oh, thank you you're the best! I don't know what I'd do without you," Heather said as she gave me a quick peck before returning to her frenzied preparations.
Suddenly Heather stopped and examined herself in the mirror and declared herself ready. She picked up the smock that serves as her covering when she goes to and from her owner and slipped it on over her naked body. Next, she took the handcuffs and tried to lock them around her own wrists but she was shaking so bad she could not do it.
She looked at me in desperation so I took them from her and fed the ratchet into the pawl. There was an ominous clicking sound as the teeth of the ratchet engaged the locking mechanism in the pawl until the bracelet fit snuggly to Heather's wrist. Repeating the same action on the other hand and Heather was securely manacled with her hands in front of her and the lead chain dangling down to the floor.
For the next ten minutes Heather sat nervously on the bed fidgeting until there was a knock on the door, actually more of a pounding. Heather jumped at the sound and my heart lodged in my throat.
Opening the door, I was startled to see Marcus' huge black hulking figure looming in front of me. I guess I had not expected to see someone we knew.
"Hey, Larry how ya doin' man," Marcus asked as he grabbed my hand and shook it. My hand inside of his was pitiful and small. "Where's that good lookin' woman of yours? There she is. Damn you look fine. Come on it's time to go!"
Marcus went to her and pulled Heather to her feet and wrapped her up in his huge arms and planted a hard wet kiss on her. This time his tongue probed deeply into her mouth.
Seeing this dark skinned black man passionately kissing my wife filled me with feelings of rage and anger. Yea, I had had fantasies of Heather doing interracial, I even have favorites but somehow the reality of it pissed me off.
I wanted to tell the black son of a bitch to get his god damn black ass away from my wife. But what could I do? Nothing, except hold the door open as the black son of a bitch led my wife out of the room by the chain attached to her handcuffed hands.
I did not even get a good bye kiss instead all she could do was purse her lips and blow me a pretend kiss as she went by. They both disappeared into the staff service elevator bound for who knows where.
Class was basically a review session and an appraisal of how each of us had done. Jeannie pulled me into a vacant room and shoved her hand down my pants to assault my balls by squeezing and kneading them with her fingers. There she pointed out that she is always available to attend to her attendees' needs. Making her point by repeatedly squeezing my testicles as she spoke, racking my body with the pain/pleasure I have come to relish so much.
Class ended at noon and I would have loved to have surrendered to Jeannie's additional training but I needed to know what was going on with Heather.
Back in the room, I waited.....and waited....and waited. 1PM nothing. 1:30 nothing. At 2:00, the room phone rang. The voice on the other end simply gave an address, one time and hung up. Fortunately, I had a pen and paper ready so I did not miss the message.
In a flash, I was down the stairs and in the car quickly punching the information into the GPS system. I was on the road to wherever the address was I was given.
In half an hour, the cheery voice of the GPS system announced, "Arriving at destination."
I parked at the door to a non-descript warehouse in a line of other non-descript warehouses in a development of non-descript warehouses. There was, however, something familiar about this setting.
Something in a favorite story; seems like it involved a husband who becomes fascinated with an interracial video series involving real wives and, oh my god, that was it!
I went to the door and rang the bell. There was an electronic buzzing sound signaling that the door had been unlocked for me. I opened the door and stepped into a small alcove. The door closed behind shutting out the daylight and leaving me in pitch black. There was nothing but silence and darkness.
A door opened and light streamed into the room causing me to blink; at the door stood a beautiful cheery young black woman named Yvonne.
"You must be Larry, you certainly got here quick, you must be very anxious," she chirped, "we are almost finished getting Heather ready for her next part and we are ready for you. Follow me," she commanded.
I quickly obeyed, following Yvonne through a large room that I immediately recognized as a movie set from the lighting hanging from the ceiling and the backs of prop scenes.