A sequel to "Sabah and Rod"
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Proofread and edited by Pet Tigress. Any remaining errors are my own.
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Rod slowly pulled himself back to exhausted consciousness. He smiled weakly, knowing why he felt dissipated in this way. Sabah had Fed again last night. It was getting familiar. A Feeding was like an attack of malaria, he mused, several days of dreamy lassitude, then a gradual recovery to normal. But even if it were possible, Rod had no desire to be cured of these attacks. First, because he knew he was pleasing Sabah. More than pleasing her, he sustained her. Her very life depended on the sexual energy she absorbed from him during that orgasmic fury. That was wonderful knowledge: his beautiful, sexy, marvelous Mistress needed HIM.
Then too, during his recovery Sabah would spend the days pampering and coddling him. Lovemaking with Sabah would be especially gentle and even more frequent. And he knew she would let him loll for hours, drinking from the fountain of her self as he worshiped and pleasured her. Her cum nourished him, she said. Sabah was very excited about this discovery and said it made their relationship more symbiosis than parasite-prey as with her previous lovers.
Finally, the Feeding itself was never less than wonderful. He enjoyed making love with Sabah morning and night (and when she was feeling frisky, during the day, too). But ordinary sex was nothing compared to a Feeding. She always made it special.
He still remembered the one a few months after coming to live with her. It was typical, if any one of a series of unique adventures can be said to be typical. He never knew exactly when the usual, mind-blowing sex would become a Feeding, although of course he knew that Sabah seldom went for more than three or four weeks without one. Thus he was expecting nothing extraordinary when she called him to their bedchamber early one evening.
Perfectly posed and perfectly naked, Sabah sat smiling on the edge of her bed, the bed she let him share. A long green gown that would hug every inch of her perfect body lay beside her. An emerald choker Rod had never seen was on the dressing table nearby. Her dark hair was piled high on her head. She was preparing for an evening out. Rod was struck by her beauty and felt regret that he could not accompany her wherever it was she was going.
"It's the Winchester League Spring Charity Ball tonight, my sweet," she said reading the question on his face. "Will you help me dress?" Not needing to wait for his reply she nodded to indicate the pair of high-top stockings he had overlooked. Unquestioningly, Rod took them and, dropping to his knees before her, began to tug and roll the delicate fabric up her long firm legs. As he neared the crotch the aroma of her arousal overpowered him. He looked up at her with the unstated petition in his eyes.
"Of course, you may, my darling, at least for a few minutes." Rod's joy knew no bounds as he thrust his head between Sabah's luscious thighs and drank deeply of her essence. Sometimes Rod did not know which form of worship was best. This had the advantage of being more selfless, not that HE did not enjoy bringing Sabah to climax with his mouth and tongue, and he could prolong it for hours. Yet, ultimately he had to prefer what she did, and no matter how many time he got her off otherwise, Sabah ultimately loved to be penetrated, long, hard, repeated thrusts of his large cock into her vagina. Perhaps it was the only time, if only for a few seconds, but when he was pounding hard into her, she totally lost control.
Unaware of when she bid him stop, Rod was suddenly conscious of Sabah's face smiling down at him. "Time for me to finish getting dressed, my sweet. I can't let you make us late." She waited just long enough to detect his happiness as he understood the meaning of her words. "Your tux is on the bed, sweetheart," she laughed. "Did you think I wanted to spend a night around a bunch of stuffy high-society types without you, my love?"
Now it was Sabah's turn to marvel as she cast admiring glances at Rod while she finished slipping into the gown and matching heels. She had stripped Rod of all shyness before her, so he disrobed and began to dress with the natural grace of serpent changing its skin. She loved to look at his hard naked body, the firm jaw, the black curls. In her centuries of existence, she had never had such a slave, such a lover.
Since he had come to live with her, she had put him on a weight training and high protein regimen. A few pounds of office flab had been replaced by several more of hard, lean muscle. Sometimes she could not believe her luck that his beautiful, intelligent man was hers. Her need had been so great the night of the storm, she would have settled for far less. But when she saw him fully dressed in the evening attire that just hinted at the hunk hidden within, she found herself humming, "Someday My Prince Will Come." Hers had.
"Here are the keys, darling. Take us to the ball."
Sabah was glad she had kept and lovingly preserved the old Lincoln. The wide bench seats were perfect for scroonching close and laying her head in Rod's lap like a happy cat. As he drove the beautiful old car along the twisting mountain road toward the little county seat, she resisted the urge to open his fly and suck the erection she felt in his pants. She was saving that for later. His gentle stroking of her hair and neck had almost put her to sleep when she felt him decelerate and enter the winding street of the old town on what had been the Virginia frontier.
Although the town was perhaps 1500 feet lower than her property up in the Blue Ridges, the sun had set and an early spring nip was in the air. The old stone country club had been torn down and replaced by a faux-Classical Revival building that Sabah hated, but tonight it was blazing with light that illuminated the surrounding grounds. Sabah threw her fur around her shoulders and waited for Rod to open the door. A valet took the car as they made their entrance.
