With Faye's pregnancy still fresh in my mind, I busied myself getting ready for the dinner that night. I took a little extra time in the shower, mulling over numerous possibilities. The hot water beating against my skin felt refreshing and rejuvenating. I grew hard again, thinking about my impregnation of Faye. I had essentially hijacked her body for my purposes.
I shut off the shower, and stepped out. Faye was waiting for me with a towel.
Dry me off slave.
Faye dutifully stepped forward, and started to pat me dry. Once I was dry, I walked onto the bedroom, and selected a new suit. Before I left the bedroom, I made sure I took Debra's bra and panties that I had absconded with earlier.
"Where are you going tonight, Master?" Faye inquired.
"I have a dinner function I've invited myself to."
"Oh?"
"Kind of a fundraiser type dinner."
"Oh Master, that's very noble of you to donate to charities." Faye said appreciatively.
"Huh? Oh, yeah... donations."
I was thinking more along the lines of them donating to me, but what Faye didn't know wouldn't kill her. Besides, I'll be walking away with a few more slaves under my belt. Literally.
Once again, I ordered a limousine for myself; I think I'm becoming their best customer. I told the dispatcher to have it there by 7:00, and she assured me it would be there at 7:00 sharp.
I killed a little time watching TV, as Faye was getting supper ready for herself and the kids. At 7:00 I heard the doorbell ring, and got up to answer it. I opened the door, and saw a nice, tall redhead in her chauffeur uniform. The white mandarin style collar was buttoned up to the top and her black jacket was straining to contain her breasts. She had a pretty face, and thoughts started racing wildly through my head.
"Mr. Bartlett?" She asked.
"That would be me." I responded, reaching out to shake her hand.
She reacted instinctively, and shook my hand. As I was shaking her hand, I felt an engagement ring on her ring finger.
Cherise Duguid, aged 29. She stood 5' 6" tall, and weighed 135 pounds. She had impressive breasts at 36 D. She was engaged to Gerald Horseman. It appeared she was quite happy with her engagement.
"I am Cherise, and I will be your driver for tonight." She said rather formally.
"How lucky for me, to have such a beautiful driver." I said with a smile.
Cherise blushed at the compliment.
"Uh, whenever you are, uh, ready, sir." She said, flustered.
"Cherise, you don't have to call me sir."
"What would you prefer I called you?"
"Umm, I think Master would be fine." I told her.
"Yes, Master." She replied automatically.
Well, Cherise, I own you now. Do you understand that?
The standard silent nod.
"Good." I said.
You do understand that this means you are my slave, right?
Another silent nod.
"Excellent."
Faye came over and stood beside me, wiping her hands on her apron.
I gave her a kiss, and patted her stomach.
"Take care of our baby." I said.
"I will, Master." Faye said quietly, an impish smile playing across her face.
"I may see you later tonight." I told Faye.
"Ok, Master," Faye replied, "have fun."
"Oh, I will."
I gave her another kiss on the lips, and cupped her face in my hand. I ran my thumb down her cheek, and she kissed it as it went by.
Faye had developed a look of absolute adoration. She had truly fallen for me. And why not? I have provided her with everything her husband could not. But, then again, she did deserve it. She was everything I could want in a slave, even though she was overweight. But even that was changing. Ever since I had taken care of her mortgage, and given her a few thousand extra a month, she had been buying better quality food. She was starting to take better care of herself and the kids.
I walked out to the limo, and waited as the lovely Cherise opened the door. I slid in and heard the muted thump of the passenger door being closed. She slid in to the driver's seat, and turned her head.
"Where to, Master?"
"410 Redwood Lane." I instructed her.
She punched the address into the cars GPS system, and followed its directions.
Debra, give me the code to enter the gate.
In an instant I had the number. As we pulled up to the gate, I gave the number to Cherise. The gate smoothly slid open, and the limousine glided elegantly through the passage. We pulled up to 140 Redwood. The house was rather large, and sprawling. It was a two story, Tudor style home. I imagined the wealth that lay in wait for me, as I waited for Cherise to open my door. A minute later my door opened, and Cherise stood back to allow my egress. I stood as I exited the limo and turned to Cherise. I moved my lips in close to hers, and gave her a kiss. Cherise kissed me softly back, her eyes getting a soft look, and never leaving mine. I undid the top three buttons of her blouse, and spread them apart, exposing a bit of her ample cleavage. I traced my finger down her exposed flesh and felt the silky warmth of her pale skin.
"Wait here with the car." I ordered.
"But Master, I have another call before I pick you up." Cherise protested weakly.
"Call your dispatcher, and tell them I changed the plans."
"Ok, but she may not like it."
I really could care less who liked it or not. .
"Oh well, that's their problem." I said.
"Yes Master." She said with a slight smile.
I was considering making Cherise my personal driver, with benefits of course. I had enough money to buy a decent vehicle now. Hell, I had enough to buy two. And after tonight... well, who knows.
I didn't even know what this fundraiser was for tonight, but I knew what it was going to turn into. I walked up to the front door of the rather large house and rang the bell. I waited patiently for someone to answer the door. A few moments later, I heard the latch working on the door as it swung open. Before me was a distinguished looking older woman of maybe about 60 years of age. I stuck out my hand and shook hers.
Elizabeth Carson, living at 140 Redwood Lane. She was sixty one years old. She stood 5' 2" tall, and weighed one hundred and forty two pounds. She had a bra size of 32C. Elizabeth was an interior designer with a local company called Interior Concepts. Her husband of thirty six years, Gerald was a plastic surgeon at a local clinic.
Elizabeth saw the limo waiting at the curb and I caught a slight gleam in her eye.
"Good evening," I introduced myself, "my name is Bartlett, Jeff Bartlet."
"Good evening Jeff." Elizabeth said warmly.
"I'm Debra's Master, and she invited me to your soirée."
The smile faded from her face.
"I'm sorry, did you say..." Her voice faded.
"What, Master?" I asked.
"Yes..." she stammered.
"Yes, that is correct." I assured her.
"As I was saying, I am Debra's Master, and she invited me tonight."
"I'm afraid, I don't understand." She said, perplexed.
"Yes, well, you see, I met Debra today, quite unexpectedly, in her bathroom I might add, and made her mine." I explained, as if it were a natural occurrence.
"O...K..." She said looking at me with a sideways glance.
I saw her swallow nervously. She gripped the door a little more tightly.
Ooh, this was fun.
She turned to scream for her husband, but I reached out and grabbed her arm.
Elizabeth gasped.
"Elizabeth, you too are my slave." I explained softly.
She nodded silently, her eyes never leaving mine, the fear still prevalent in them.
"Good, now, let's meet the others shall we?"
"Yes, Master."
"Oh, and let's be happy about it, shall we?"
The fear drained from her surprisingly beautiful face, and was replaced with a content calmness.
She swung the door open wider, and made a sweeping gesture with her arm.
"Right this way Master. Please, make yourself at home."
"Oh, I intend to." I said as I walked past her.
"I think we should start with your husband, don't you?"
"Yes Master, as you wish."
Elizabeth, hold my hand while you guide me.
Elizabeth took my hand and our fingers intertwined. I allowed my newest acquisition to lead me into the dining room, where all the guests were seated.
"Gerald, I'd like you to meet Jeff Bartlett. He was invited by Debra."
Debra's expression brightened when she saw me. I saw Steve look quickly at his wife, with a curious expression playing across his face.
Gerald stood up and extended his hand, "Sorry Jeff, we weren't expecting you." He said as he gestured to the full table.
"It's no problem." I assured him. "I'm not too hungry, at the moment."
Gerald much like your wife, you are my slave now.
Now, introduce me to your guests.
The Carson's dinner guests were seated by couple, and he started on his left.
"This is Dr. Ben Werner, and his wife Leanne."
Dr. Werner stood, and extended his hand. I shook it cordially.
"A pleasure to meet you." I said.
"Yes, the same."
Ben Werner, a cardiologist from one of the local hospitals in the city.
I shook Leanne's hand.
Leanne Werner, living at 658 Isaacs Creek Road. Leanne was fifty three years old; she stood 4' 9" tall and was one hundred and twenty one pounds. Her bra size was 34D. Leanne was a plump, unemployed housewife, as her husband made quite the decent living. The couple had no kids.
"A pleasure." I said, as I kissed her hand.
Leanne blushed and said. "The pleasure's mine."
Leanne put her hand to her chest, and bowed her head slightly.
"Next to the Werner's we have the Freytag's."
The couple stood, the husband extending his hand first.
"Hi, I'm Daniel, and this is my wife Shannon."
Daniel Freytag, living at 54 Cedar Bay. Daniel was 33 years old. He was a residential architect for Glenwood Designs, one of the more prominent national architectural companies in the country.
His wife Shannon extended her hand.
Shannon Freytag, age twenty eight, married to Daniel for 5 years. Shannon stood 5' 7" tall, and weighed one hundred and twenty three pounds. Her bra size was a nice 32D, and she had a well-proportioned body. Shannon was actually a teacher at the school Ray and Anissa went to, and taught grade one. Once again, I leaned in and kissed her hand. Her skin smelled lightly of expensive perfume.
Shannon and Daniel had no children as their main focus was on their careers right now. Although, Shannon really didn't have to work. Daniel made a handsome salary where he was employed.
"Next we have the Pickett's. This is Neil, and his wife Claire."
I shook Neil's hand.
Neil Pickett, living at 673 Redwood Lane. Neil was 36 years old. He was a fairly successful defense attorney for a law firm called Lawrence, Welsh, and Polick.
I went to shake Claire's hand.
