The Stimulus Plan Slut Ch 04

Well, much to my surprise, after almost two years, my muse delivered another chapter to this series -I'd suggest reading Chapters 01-03 first. This is a story that runs through the darker side of my imagination and isn't for everyone. If you hate the concept of the cuckold, I'd stop reading now! For the rest of you, enjoy and please give me feedback, be it positive or negative. As always, all characters exist solely within the confines of this story and my head. Enjoy!

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His was certainly not the biggest cock I've sucked or the longest, but as I ran my tongue up and down Mister Richards' erection, it occurred to me that his was my favorite. I felt my banker's and benefactor's fingers running through my dark hair and felt that delicious thrill run through me that I'd felt the first time he'd demanded I suck his cock and had experienced every single time I'd gone to my knees for him since. In truth, now that it had almost a year since I'd agreed to be a whore for him and the wealthier people in town, I reckoned I'd had his cock in my mouth close to a hundred times. Another naughty thrill ran through my body as I realized that I'd sucked Mister Richards' cock more often than anyone else in my life...including my husband, Donnie.

I licked the long length of his shaft and then my lips slid over his swollen crown, my tongue swirling over the ridges of his cock head before I slowly took all of him in my mouth. All the time, my eyes were fixed upon his face, always assessing his expressions of pleasure and when we made eye contact, trying to convey how much I enjoyed being his whorish slut.

Twice a week -- every Tuesday and Thursday without fail, I'd come at two o'clock in the afternoon and been admitted to his private office by his secretary, Lily Fox where he'd order me to strip and then crawl across the room to him on my hands and knees to suck his cock, usually tasting of Lilly's pussy. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, I would be sent out to service various customers in whatever way they commanded me. In exchange, my mortgage was paid every month and as I'd discovered to my surprise, often the tips were substantial. In the process, I'd also discovered that there was a sex crazed slut buried within me that reveled in fucking and sucking.

Mr. Richards, well into his fifties, slightly balding with a pot belly, let out a long, pleased sigh, squirming happily on his couch as I fluttered my tongue over his cock head and then took all his length until his graying pubic hairs tickled my nostrils. "Oh, Sonya...what a cocksucker you are!" he sighed.

Slowly I let him slip from between my lips, planting a gentle kiss on the piss slit of his penis and in a soft and anxious voice said, "I'd be happy to do more, Mister Richards. I'd love to feel you in my pussy." It was an offer I made every time I visited his office...an offer that made my pussy wet just thinking about my cunt being stuffed with his cock. Over the last year, I'd grown envious of Lilly Fox, suspecting he fucked her daily.

Mister Richards smiled down at me, shook his head and as he did every time I offered to fuck him said, "Thank you, but no, Sonya. We have our agreement." His hand pressed down on my head until again I took him between my lips, sighing just a little. Disappointed yet again, I refocused on pleasing him to the best of my ability and again began to lavish all my cocksucking talents on my benefactor.

All too soon, I felt his pulse quicken in the thick vein running the length of his cock. Mister Richard's breath came faster and then his cock head swelled slightly and as I moaned approvingly, he began shooting semen, hot, thick and salty -- into my mouth and I happily and loudly swallowed it, savoring the taste of semen as it flowed down my throat.

As was our ritual after a year, I quickly dressed and prepared to go. "See you next Tuesday, sir," I said as I turned towards the door, Mister Richards already back at his desk.

"A moment, Sonya," Mister Richards said, halting me in my tracks. He looked at me, an evil smile on his face. "Will you be home this evening?"

"Yes," I replied, my heart suddenly increasing its beating. Anything out of the ordinary always promised to be an exciting and erotic event.

"You aren't scheduled for an appointment until Saturday, but would you be available for an extended weekend -- say, Friday through Monday?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise. I had never been on any assignment that took more than twenty-four hours. "It would provide a considerable bonus -- ten thousand dollars."

"Who do I have to fuck...or do I have to kill someone?"

Mister Richards chuckled and said, "I very much doubt killing comes into it, how ever, one might ask not who you'll have to fuck, but how many?"

I think I raised my other eyebrow and my labia already wet and slick almost seemed to pucker. "I'm sure I can arrange to be available for the weekend," I replied, my voice growing husky.

My banker nodded and said, "Fine, expect a call from Mr. Stockman this evening -- sometime after seven o'clock."

I nodded, trying to conceal my now burgeoning excitement. "Thank you, Mister Richards, until Tuesday." I let myself out, nodding to his secretary, the sultry Lilly Fox who nodded back, offering me her smirking and knowing smile as she always did. I managed to contain myself until I reached the safe confines of my car when I let out a long, aroused moan -- my hand quickly slipping underneath my skirt to caress the small swatch of cloth that covered my pussy mound -- already soaked with my juices.

Mr. Stockman -- owner of Stockman's Financial Group and my first and most common clients. Four times over the past year, I'd been the party favor at Stockman's Industries monthly meetings, spending the bulk of it under the immense conference table, sucking cock and licking pussy. The top monthly producer gets to fuck me on top of the table while their coworkers cheer us on. Mr. Stockman ranks right up there with Mr. Richards of men I yearn to fuck. Handsome in a rugged way with a deep bass voice like Gregory Peck or Charlton Heston, I'd never met a man in their seventies that turned me on so.

My drive home was an exercise in restraint. Just knowing I would be doing something for Mr. Stockman had me on the verge of pulling over and fist fucking myself to orgasm after orgasm. And that was without figuring in his daughter, Joan into the deal. Fiftyish, buxom and ripe, she was one of the women I would lick to orgasm under that conference table. Each time, afterwards she had hinted how much she'd like to return the favor and she and her father had made it clear that they were lovers -- something else that aroused me on its own.

Still as aroused as I was -- I could sense trouble arising from this possible assignment. To say that my marriage had become strained since I had become Mr. Richards whore would be an understatement. True, what I did had kept us from losing our home and the extra money my "tips" brought in had allowed us to catch up on all our bills and provide some breathing space as well, but it had also served to make both Donnie and me face some new truths about ourselves.

For me, it had opened my eyes to new realms of possibility -- new worlds of sexual experience and pleasure I had never dream possible and which I have without reservation embraced and will never give up. For Donnie, it has been an experience that he both loathes and yet embraces. He is repelled by my willingness to fuck anyone -- to surrender myself to carnality in its purest forms, yet he is unable to deny his attraction to me as a slut -- to both despise and love me when I come home stinking of sperm and pussy. Despite his loathing of me and of himself, he cannot resist fucking me when my cunt is packed with another man's semen.

Each time I return home from an assignment, Donnie makes his anger and revulsion evident, verbally abusing me -- sometimes getting mildly violent before yielding to his baser urges, fucking my already well fucked and cum filled body -- eating other men's seed from my cunt, even my ass, hating me and yet loving me with every lick of his tongue and every thrust of his cock. Truth be told -- now as I was into my second year as a whore, he rarely initiated sex unless I'd already been fucked.

Outside our bedroom, we seemed to get along relatively well, only our oldest -- Tara -- seemed to pick up on the tension that existed between us. Where it would end, I wasn't sure. I didn't believe that Donnie would snap and seriously harm me, but I knew deep inside me that if forced to choose between my husband and my new way of life, Donnie would lose. I am a slut and I glory in it. I will not and cannot change.

When I arrived home, I found that Tara and the younger kids had beaten me home. It was Tara's responsibility to pick her siblings up on the days I had my assignments. I was aware that Tara at least suspected what I was doing to keep a roof over our heads and she had made it clear that she supported me in that. I loved my nearly eighteen year old daughter dearly for that. She and her younger brother and sister were doing homework at the kitchen table and I paused to hug each of them before going to change.

Each of them was growing up too fast. Tara, now a senior in high school would turn eighteen just before Christmas and then graduate in another six months. Soon I'd have a college student on my hands! My son, Donnie Junior was now fourteen and in the throes of puberty. Over the last few months, I had felt his eyes studying me as I came and went in my more scandalous outfits. I was still sorting out how it made me feel to know that that knowledge not only sent certain naughty thrills through me, but that I seemed to be arousing my son as well.

Homework finished, each was off in their bedrooms or outside playing when their father arrived. Donnie hung around the kitchen while I worked on dinner, catching me up on his day. Finally, I brought up the news that I might be gone for several days. Donnie pursed his lips into a sour expression before replying, "Four days...overnight?" He shook his head. "Goddammit, Sonya -- this is getting out of hand. You need to stop -- we're caught up on things. You don't need to keep doing this."

I turned around from the counter where I was prepping a meatloaf. "We're ahead because I am doing this. You're barely working full time as it is and my old job is gone for good. You know I'm never giving this up and we can use that ten thousand bucks, Donnie. Tara starts college in the fall -- her scholarships cover some of it, but its still gonna be damned expensive."

Donnie got that look he gets when he knows I'm right, but despises himself for not being able to do anything about it. He got up from the kitchen table and got himself a beer from the fridge. He walked out without another word save a muttered, "Fucking whore," under his breath. Dinner was a tense situation with the Donnie morosely picking at his food, the younger kids oblivious and Tara looking on with some concern. After dinner was over, Tara dawdled behind to help clean up and to ask me if everything was alright.

I smiled at my daughter and shrugged my shoulders. "Your father is a bit pissed off at me because I may have to take a trip out of town for a few days."

Tara nodded, her concerned expression still evident. "This has to do with your...um, job, right?"

"Will you be alright, Mom? It's not anything dangerous is it?"

I leaned over with soapy hands and careful not to get her wet, gave her a hug. "Bless you, no...but thanks for asking. It's just a chance to make some extra money."

I tried not to show how much it excited me, but between wandering what kinky thing I might experience and feeling my daughter's maturing body pressing against mine, my pussy, its fires never totally banked, quivered with newly stoked desire. Tara seemed mollified by my comments and we finished up and went on about our business. Afterwards, she retired to her room to study and no doubt chat with friends on her cell phone or her computer. I settled down in the living room near the phone while Donnie began working his way through a six-pack of beer while watching the sports channel.

At eight-thirty, the phone rang and I had it off the hook after just one ring. "Hello?" I said, cursing the anxiousness or maybe eagerness in my voice.

"Hello, Sonya Hammonds? Gus Stockman here." His deep, rich voice alone sent orgasmic tremors though my body. "I understand you might be willing to commit a few days to me and my affairs?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Stockman. Anything you desire." Donnie glanced up broodingly from his fourth beer. He silently mouthed the word, "Slut."

"Wonderful, Sonya, but I think you should hear the situation before committing. Are you familiar with the term 'gang bang'?"

I let out a little moan as a spurt of pussy juice soaked my panties. I adored gang bangs. Not two months ago, I'd been the evening's entertainment at fraternity house party -- seven young men hiring me to service them all evening. I think I had been fucked over twenty times that night, not counting loads of cum I'd sucked from their willing dicks. "Very much so, Mr. Stockman."

He laughed and replied, "Well, Sonya, Joan and I are taking a weekend trip to Key West and I have a little bet with a friend that I need help with. How many men have you fucked at these gang bangs?"

"Um...between seven men, I think maybe twenty-two or twenty-three times," I replied.

"I want to be totally clear here, Sonya. The number involved in this competition would be considerably more...considerably more." There was a pause and then he asked, "Are you game, Sonya?"

Part of me wanted to ask how many more -- not because I was worried or scared, but because I wanted the savor the possibilities of what was to come. Just the words, "considerably more" had my pussy throbbing with anticipation. I licked my lips and swallowed, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry and replied, "I'm your girl, Mr. Stockman." Glancing around to make sure none of the kids were in the room, I said in a lower tone, "I'm your whore, Mr. Stockman."

He chuckled again and said. "I'm very, very pleased. Any questions?"

"Just tell me when and where, Mr. Stockman. Oh, and what should I wear?"

"We'll pick you up at noon tomorrow, Sonya. Just wear something simple -- you won't have it on long and perhaps some high heels." And then he hung up. I held onto the phone for a bit, shivers of erotic delight coursing through my body, ignoring my husband's evil stares.

That evening when we went to bed, Donnie pointedly turned his back to me, but I didn't mind -- I knew he'd want me afterwards. My mind couldn't dwell long on the strange evolution that my wedded sex life had taken (although even Donnie would have to confess -- we fucked now more than even when we were newlyweds). Images of being endlessly fucked coursed through my mind and I finger-fucked myself to orgasm as I pictured cock after cock -- practically swimming in an ocean of cum. As my hips bucked against my probing fingers, sugar walls clasping tightly to three fingers as I writhed with pleasure, my climax was somehow sweetened as I felt Donnie's eyes upon me, his expression of lust and disgust.

Friday morning passed by agonizingly slow. Donnie had left for work without a word, offering me only passing looks of contempt before he stormed out the door. Tara, on the other hand, listened patiently as I gave her instructions for dinner plans -- I always had several frozen casseroles on hand, as well as a shopping list and money for groceries and additional cash for eating out. It gave me a warm feeling to know that my daughter was willing and able to help me out.

When the limousine pulled up, I hurried down to where a burly driver held open a door for me, my heart pounding wildly. I carried a handbag with essentials and was wearing a simple black mini-skirt and three inch heels. I hadn't bothered with a bra or panties. I climbed into the limousine and found myself in a compartment that seemed larger than my own living room. Mr. Stockman, looking regal sat there with his daughter Joan curled up beside him. He looked as if he'd just come from a power luncheon, wearing a dark suit and blue tie.

Joan, his fiftyish daughter, was dressed more casually, a knee length sweater dress with a deep, square-cut neckline, exposing the upper halves of her considerable bosom. Her graying blonde hair was pinned up, exposing the long graceful line of her neck and her blue eyes shone with lust as she took me in.

We quickly sped away from my house after Mister Stockman pressed a button and speaking presumably to the driver, said, "Airport, James." He smiled at me and said, "The company jet is fueled up and ready to go...as I hope you are."

I nodded and replied, "I'm at your command, Mr. Stockman."

He laughed and said, "I like my whores to be so willing to please." He patted his daughter's exposed knee and said, "Help our Sonya get ready for her big adventure!"

Joan smiled and said, "Of course, Father." She uncurled from her seat and crossed over to sit next to me. She leaned into me, her breasts mashing into my bare arm and kissed me -- her tongue slipping between my lips to be greeted and touched by my own. A shiver of delight ran through me and I was mildly pleased to feel a similar shiver in Joan. She dropped a hand to my exposed thigh and quickly ran it up under my dress until I moaned as she wormed it between my inner thighs to palm my wet and aroused pussy.

Breaking the kiss, Joan turned to her father and said, "Already hot and juicy, Father. No panties." She turned back to me and said, "We like that. Now, off with the dress -- there'll be no more clothes for our little fuck slut until we come home."

Another delicious shiver rippled through me accompanied by a thread of doubt. Naked? We were heading to the airport and I would be boarding a plane naked? Still, a year's experience had taught me much and I did not protest -- instead murmuring, "Yes, Ma'am."

Joan smiled approvingly at my submissive tone and then lustily as my naked body was put on display -- my nipples hardening from both the cool air of the limo and from my arousal. She took my dress and carefully folded it up and opening up a compartment between seats, stored it. She then pulled out a strip of leather and my eyes widened as I saw it was studded with sparkling diamonds and then I recognized it for what it was -- a dog collar.

Joan nodded and said, "For the next few days, you're our little fuck bitch -- our fuck toy and we want everyone to be clear who owns you.." She placed it around my neck and locked it into place -- another shiver of pleasure swept through me and I moaned as my pussy began to spasm and I had a little orgasm on the spot and was unable to control myself as I squirted pussy juice, hearing it splatter on the carpeted floor of the limousine.

Mr. Stockman chuckled and said, "Why, I believe Sonya is pleased with you, dear."

Joan's hand slithered down between my legs again and I moaned happily as she caressed my aroused flesh with her index finger -- the long digit sliding slowly between my blossomed labia, fueling the wet fire between my thighs. She brought her hand up to display her cunt cream covered finger to me and then brushed her finger against my lips, making little noise of pleased pleasure as I sucked it clean. She brought her hand down to cup and caress my full breast, palm scraping over my swollen nipple. "Isn't she beautiful, Father?"

"Indeed, she is," Mr. Stockman replied. He looked out the window. "Ah, we're here, Joan. Finish getting Sonya ready, please."

I glanced out the window and was surprised to see us pulling up to a small jet plane like you see in the movies. My attention was called back to Joan as I felt her fumble with my collar and heard a metallic snap. I gasped as I realized that she was now holding a leash -- a leash attached to my collar. Another mini-orgasm rocked me and I again ejaculated pussy juice onto the limo floor. The driver opened the door and Mr. Stockman climbed out. Joan followed, tugging on the leash and with only a bit of stumbling, I climbed out, naked and aroused.