Amy was tired as she unlocked the door to her house at the end of the day. She enjoyed being a real estate agent, no doubt about that, but some days were just frustrating. It seemed all the houses she had taken her clients to today—some of which she thought they’d be delighted with—were picked apart and turned down entirely.
“Hey, honey,” her husband called to her from the living room. He had his calculator and books spread out on the kitchen table, apparently working on the bills.
“Hi, Allen,” she said, hanging her coat up.
“How was your day?”
“It ... was. That’s about the best I can say for it.”
“I’ll tell you what. Change into something more comfortable, and I’ll take you out to dinner.”
Amy paused a moment, then smiled. “That sounds good. Give me just a few minutes, and I’ll be ready, kind sir.”
She had travelled halfway back the hall when the doorbell rang. “Could you get that?” she called out to Allen.
“No problem.” Allen shut his books and answered the door. A man he had never seen stood there. Probably trying to unload his quota of religious pamphlets, Allen thought.
“You must be Mr Keith,” the man said.
“Yes ...,” Allen answered, cocking his head, “And you’re ....”
“My name is Grant,” the man said, extending his hand for Allen to shake. “Grant Blaine. Your wife and my daughter are good friends.”
“You’re Daphne’s father?”
“That I am.”
“Well, come in. How may I help you?”
“Actually, you and your wife can join me for dinner. I’ve moved into town, staying with my daughter, and I’m trying to get back into the hang of socializing.”
“Well, that sounds like a very neighborly offer.”
“It is, it is. Please, join me. I’ve even brought my old company’s limo for us to ride in.”
“A limo?!” Allen whistled. “Well, I don’t see how we can turn down an offer like that. As a matter of fact, Amy and I were just talking about going out. We’d be delighted to join you.”
“Who is it, dear?” Amy asked as she came back down the hall. “Oh! It’s you?!”
“Amy,” Allen said, apparently not picking up on the tone of her voice, “Mr Blaine here just offered to take us out to dinner. In his limo, no less.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Grant, but we—”
“Honey,” Allen interrupted, “I just told him we would join him.”
Amy clicked her teeth together. “Can I see you in the kitchen a moment, dear?”
“Excuse us, Grant.”
“No problem, Alan. I guess some men still have to answer to their wives.”
“What is it?” Allen asked, his voice a little irked, when they were in the kitchen.
“Allen, you don’t know this man. You really wouldn’t like him. Let’s not go.”
“Amy, I’ve already committed us. Besides, he seems fine to me.”
Amy sighed. “You really don’t know this man, Allen. Please just take my word for it—going out with him would be a mistake.”
“Why? What could he possibly do?”
“He could ... I ... look, Allen, I grew up with his daughter. We played together at her house all the time. He tried—”
“He didn’t try to ... molest either of you or anything?!”
“Oh, no! No, nothing at all like that. But he tried to dominate her every chance he could. And lately, since he’s been here, there’s been trouble between several of Daphne’s friends and her.”
“And you think that somehow he’s responsible? That he’s been fomenting trouble?” Allen winced. “That sounds like it’s stretching things a little, don’t you think?”
“Allen, if you insist on going with him, I’ll come along. But please don’t. If we go out with him, we’re going to regret it.”
“Honey, I did already agree.”
Amy stared at him a moment, then clucked her tongue. “Very well, then. Fine. We’ll go.”
“Are you sure, dear? It will be fun. He brought a limousine and everything.”
“Yes,” she said, pursing her lips and shaking her head, “We’ll go.”
“Great!” Both reentered the living room. “Just give me a minute to get changed, Grant, and we’ll head out.”
“Great! Splendid!”
Allen walked back up the hall, and Grant wandered over to a bookcase and began glancing at the backs of the books. “I’m a little surprised you two are joining me, Amy.”
“It wasn’t my choice, believe me,” she said, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.
“Oh, I knew that all right. You’ve had this love-hate thing about me since you were a little girl.” Amy sputtered, but Grant ignored it. “What surprises me is the balls Allen is showing. I figured that any husband you would marry would be some gutless wimp that surrendered his testicles to you long before he even said, ‘I do.’”
“You son of a bitch!”
“Hey, if I’m wrong, just prove it to me. Show me tonight what a docile little wife you are, and I’ll eat my words.”
“You snide shit! You love to wallow in the mud, so you think everyone else does also!”
Grant spread his hands. “Just prove me wrong. That’s all I’m asking you to do tonight. Just show me what a tame little homemaker you can be.”
“You are all ugly inside, but other people aren’t like you. Not at all.”
“Please, just prove that to me,” Grant said, grinning. “Just show me that what you say is true.”
She stared at him. “I don’t think you would believe it if you saw it. You only believe what you want to.”
“Don’t we all? You included, honey. Now go change. We’re going to Lambert’s, and your attire is entirely unsuitable.”
“My attire?!”
“You may call that a business outfit, dear, but the patrons at Lambert’s would call it a slut-suit—that is, if they used language like that. No, you would be an embarassment to both you husband and myself.”
“You can go to hell, mister,” she said, putting her fists on her hips.
“Oh, and about that language, Amy. Please, show just a little restraint tonight.”
Amy jutted her jaw out. “I have had just about all of you that—”
“Ready!” Allen said, reappearing, slightly out of breath from hurrying.
“Splendid, Allen! Lambert’s is acceptable?”
Allen whistled. “You were able to get reservations for Lambert’s? How long have you been planning this?”
Grant grinned, pleased with the effect on Allen. “Only since this morning, actually. I ... know ... the correct people.”
“Lambert’s,” Allen said, grinning and shaking his head.
“Uhm ... one thing, Allen.”
“Yes?”
“Your wife’s suit. Uhm ... I don’t think they permit ladies without dresses into Lambert’s. Or at least I think it would cause quite a ... how can I say it? It would be a faux pas.”
“Uhm ...,” Allen drawled, turning to his wife. “I think he’s probably right, dear.”
Amy clenched her jaw. “So—you want me to go change?” she said, her voice tense.
“It would probably make a better impression, sweetheart.”
“A better impression.” She pursed her lips. “Okay, so be it. I will go change into a dress for you.” She moved back up the hall stiffly.
“She seems a little miffed,” Grant commented.
“Ah, she just doesn’t like anyone telling her how to dress. That’s all. She’ll get over it before we even get out to the limo.
“She’s a very lucky woman, Allen. You are an extremely understanding man.”
“Well, thank you. I hope she appreciates it as much as you do.”
“I hope so too. I mean, not many men would go to such lengths to accomodate their little ladies.”
Allen raised his hands quickly. “Oh, don’t let her hear you call her that!” he whispered conspiratorilly.
“Yessir, much more understanding than most men would be.”
“Well, I have a wonderful wife—it’s worth working hard to keep her.”
“Just make sure you don’t over-pamper her.”
“I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that.”
“That’s the problem. Most men don’t realize it’s happening until it’s already done.”
“What’s that?”
“Women, Allen, should be ... given certain constraints within which to work. It has to do with the father-daughter relationship. It’s the same with a dog or a child, too. If you just let her run wild, she won’t respect you, and she won’t even feel good about herself.”
“Ooohhh, I think Amy feels plenty good about herself.”
“No, actually, that’s one of the first signs, Allen. In fact, that’s why I even mentioned this at all. When a woman overcompensates with a—I don’t want to use the phrase ‘overbearing ego’, but that’s generally what I mean—it’s a sign of a fragile self-image. She feels insecure. The bastion in her life—her father or her husband, depending on her situation—has not taken the time to present her with the limits she needs to work within. She feels he does not love her enough to take the time out to look after her. And so she tries to infringe upon him, as a—well, as a cry for help.”
“So you think that Amy’s crying out for help? I don’t know—that reasoning is a bit strained.”
“Just think about it, Allen. Examine your situation objectively. If there’s any truth to what I said, I’m sure you’ll see it. If not, then you can be even more confident about your marriage.”
“Okay ... I’ll keep it in mind.”
“You do that!” Grant said, clapping his hand on Allen’s shoulder. “Now, as one friend to another, I happen to know a little about the stock market. I have a tip or two I might be willing to share with a friend that offered me a beer.”
“One beer coming up,” Allen grinned.
Several minutes later, Amy walked out wearing an expensive white gown. “Do you gentlemen think you can call this ‘acceptable’?” she asked dryly.
“Amy!” Grant said, raising his beer can in salute to her, “You look pretty as a toy doll!”
“Oh, God, you two aren’t drinking?! Allen?”
“It’s just one beer, babydoll,” Allen told her. “And Mr Blaine has been letting me in on a few secrets of the stocks.”
“Oh, wonderful. Are you two ready? Or shall I sit and wait with held breath until the two of you are done?”
“Actually,” Grant said, “We are in the middle of something. If you think you could wait just a minute or two.”
Amy sighed angrilly. “Allen?”
“We really are in the middle of something, dear. Would you mind? For just a minute?”
“Sure! Fine!” She sat down on the couch and put her hands in her lap. “I’ll just sit here and wait ‘patiently’ on you two men.”
“Really, honey, it’ll be just a minute.”
“And I said I’d wait. So get to it!”
Allen looked back at Grant, who gave him an I-told-you-so look and then continued with a discussion about a high-tech company he thought would do well soon.
Allen fidgetted until Grant finally finished, then he clapped his hands and stood, looking at Amy. “Well, what do we think? About time for that dinner?”
“Oh,” she said, blinking. “It is just so hard to contain this excitement.”
“Right ....” Allen said, clapping his hands together. “I’ll just go get our coats.”
“Is that the best you could do?” Grant asked as Allen walked back to the closet.
Amy just glared at him.
“Okay, okay, it is acceptable, I guess. But you did go a bit heavy on the makeup, didn’t you? This is an upper class restaurant, not a red light district.”
“Mister ...,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“Here you go, Amy,” Allen said, reappearing and holding her coat up to help her put it on.
“Oh,” Grant said.
“What?” Allen asked.
“That’s her best coat?”
“Ye ... es.”
“Tell you what, Allen. A beautiful woman shows off her husband’s sexual prowess, and her clothes show off his financial success. We’ll stop on the way to the restaurant and pick her up a coat that’s a little more appropriate to your status.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary, Grant,” Allen answered him. “We’ll stick by what we have.”
Grant bowed his head. “That did come out a bit overly-well-to-do, didn’t it, Allen? I apologize. I ... You’re a friend of mine now, and I just like to do right by my friends. I really did not mean for that to come out as an insult.”
“No offense taken, Grant. I appreciate the offer, but Amy and I will stand by what we have.”
“Settled, then. Now let’s be on our way.”
The three stepped onto the porch while Allen locked the door, then they headed for the limousine. A chauffeur appeared and opened the doors. Grant spoke with him a moment, then joined the other two in the cabin.
“No, no,” he said, grinning. “Amy, you sit on the seat on that side. Allen and I will sit on this side.”
Amy looked at Allen, who shrugged, so she complied.
“You see, that’s the female seat, while this is the male seat,” Grant said, getting three glasses out of a compartment and popping a champagne bottle.
“I don’t understand,” Allen said.
The chauffeur started the engine, and Amy’s seat began vibrating.
“Since it vibrates, obviously that’s the female seat!” Grant guffawed, handing out glasses of champagne. Allen gave one polite chuckle, saw the look Amy gave him, and bowed his head.
“None for me,” Amy said, without even looking at Grant.
“Oh, come on, pwiddy liddle thing,” Grant told her.
“No.”
“Well, Allen has to join me. This is two hundred dollar champagne, and there is no way I am letting it go to waste.”
“Okay, just one glass,” Allen accepted.
Grant began talking about stock tips again, and before Allen knew it, he was on his second refill.
Amy had been just staring out the window, occassionally looking at the two men in disgust, when the limo came to a stop. “Well ... if you two boys are up to it, I think we have arrived.”
The chauffeur came around to open the doors, and the three stepped out.
Allen realized they were not standing in front of Lambert’s, but in front of an expensive clothing store instead. “Hey, this isn’t the restaurant!” he said just a little too loudly.
“Please, Allen,” Grant said. “I know what you said earlier, but let me buy you a gift. Please, just this one. Your wife’s coat looks ... fine. But we want something stunning for her to appear in at Lambert’s.”
“Oh ... no ... Grant, I couldn’t.”
“Honey,” Amy said with an edge to her voice, “If Mr Blaine wants to buy me an expensive coat, then by all means, let us oblige him,” and she walked into the store. Grant followed, then a bewildered Allen.
Amy simply walked up to the first clerk she saw. “Your most expensive coat—I wish to see it.” The clerk showed her a selection of three coats, leading up to the most expensive one, which Amy carried with her back to a dressing room.
“I—I can’t let you—” Allen said, still blanched after hearing the price ranges.
“Allen, please. I insist. Tell you what. You go back out to the limosine, and we’ll be out soon to surprise you.”
“I—”
“Allen, go.”
“Okay. Okay. And no more champagne for me until I get something on my stomach. I’m not feeling so good,” he muttered as he wandered out to the vehicle.
Amy came out and informed a delighted clerk that she would take the coat, then began looking at the available shoes.
“I like the heels fairly high,” Grant said, wandering up behind Amy.
“Too damn bad.”
“Still playing hard to get,” he said, running his hand along her buttocks.
“Get. Your. Hand. Off. My. Ass.” Amy said, biting off the end of each word.
“Toots, with that coat and anything else you get, you are bought and paid for.”
She turned to look him in the eye. “You could never buy me. Now get your hand off my ass unless you want to lose it.”
“What a tiger!” Grant said, not moving his hand. “What was all that earlier about Mrs Domesticity? Hmmm?”
She slapped his hand away. “Miss?” she called to the clerk. “If you have any jewelry on the premises, I would like to see your most expensive.”
The clerk smiled and wrung her hands together.
Amy had picked out a necklace and two bracelets, and was looking at shoes again when the clerk came up and opened a white box to reveal a black negligee.
“If you really want to keep the Mister’s attentions and affections, these are wonderful items,” she told Amy.
Amy pursed her lips. “Let me see your most expensive lingerie, then.”
“Uhm, this is our finest lingerie, ma’am. You ... seem to have excellent taste and have only wished to see our best and—”
“Okay, okay. Let me try it on. Send the ‘Mister’ to the dressing room doors.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, smiling and wringing her hands again.
Amy looked at the girl’s hands. “You work off commission, don’t you?”
“Ma’am?”
“Never mind.”
Amy tried the lingerie on in the dressing room. “Oh, Grant?” she called.
“Yes?” she heard his voice from outside.
“Remember what you said about being bought and paid for?”
“Yes.”
She stepped outside, dressed in the black negligee, spun around twice, and wiggled her ass. “This,” she said in a husky voice, “Is what you will never be able to pay for.”
“I have a friend that could fix that problem, you know.”
“And what problem is that?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“That left boob sagging lower than the right one. A little snip snip with the knife, and you could look as normal as any other woman.”
“You shit!” she said, her lower lip trembling despite herself.
“Oh, don’t cry. I mean, it’s noticeable, certainly, but it’s not particularly hideous. It doesn’t turn my stomach to look at it, anyway.”
“You fucking shit!” She spun around and moved back into the dressing room.
It was ten minutes before she came out, her eyes still red.
“Hey, Amy, I’m really sorry. Really, you’re boobs aren’t all that bad.”
“Shut the hell up,” she said emotionlessly.
“And look on the bright side. Allen seems like such a nice guy that he would never make a big deal about them.”
Amy felt him looking at her, but gave no response. The shitheel.
“And will this do it for you today?” the clerk asked, still wringing her hands.
“Yes,” Grant grinned, “Quite.”
“Very good, sir.” She began totalling the items and making a bill.
Amy, meanwhile, wandered back out the the vehicle, feeling numb. She guessed that she had asked for it, rubbing his nose in it like that. And she was sure there was nothing wrong with her breasts. But that didn’t keep what he had done from hurting.
The chauffeur opened the door, and she stepped inside.
“So? Did you get him to buy you a coat? An expensive one?”
“I don’t feel like talking about it,” she said flatly.
Allen clucked his tongue. “I guess you did, then. Something I couldn’t afford to get you, I guess.”
“Allen, stop. I just did it you make him pay for showing off all night. There, now, please, I don’t feel like talking any more about it.”
Allen looked at her through squinted eyes. “You know, he may be right. You really don’t have any limitations set on you.”
She looked at him tiredly. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.”
She looked back out the window. Fine, then. Let him act that way.
“Whoo-eee!” Grant said, getting into the car as the chauffeur loaded the boxes into the trunk. “That is one hot little filly you’ve got there, Allen. Everyone in the store has the same opinion. I tell you, she was trying on and showing off some hot lingerie numbers!”
Allen jerked his head to look at his wife. She refused to return his look.
“She has one sexy little body! I guess she shows off your sexual prowess just fine, my man. Just remember what I said earlier about limits.”
“Yeah, limits,” Allen grumbled.
“I don’t feel like going anymore,” Amy said, not looking at the men, but staring out the window instead. “Take me home now.”
“Amy, you are really—!” Allen bit off his words, getting a hold on his anger. “No. No, I am not taking you back home. You have acted like a spoiled little brat tonight. Amy, you were modelling lingerie?!”
“Allen,” she turned to look at him. “You don’t understand. It was—”
“I don’t care, Amy. I don’t even care.” He turned his head to look out his window a moment, then turned back to look at her. “You are coming tonight, and you will behave. Enough said.”
“Allen!”
“Enough said!” he growled.
Amy glared at him a moment, then at Grant, then looked sullenly out the window.
Grant tapped on the window to signal the chauffeur, and the vehicle began moving again. They rode for about fifteen minutes in silence until they arrived. The chauffeur came around and helped them all out.
Inside the restaurant, the front waiter recognized Grant immediately and escorted them back to a private, reserved area, where another couple was already seated.
“Allen, Amy, I want you to meet Douglass Lockhead and his beautiful wife Ginger. They work for one of my previous affiliate corporations. Douglass, Ginger, these are the Keiths. Amy here played with my daughter when they were both children, and Allen, though I’ve just met him, seems like one of my oldest friends.”
“Glad to meet you,” Allen said, extending his hand to Douglass.
“Likewise,” Douglass said, shaking hands. “I think I’ve heard you speak of Amy,” he said, extending his hand towards her.
“Hi,” Amy said dully, ignoring Douglass’s hand.
“If you gentlemen will excuse us ladies, I think we need to powder our noses,” Ginger spoke up and led Amy by the hand to the powder room up the hall.
“So what is it?” she asked Amy once they had entered.
“What’s what?” Amy asked tiredly.
“You’re upset over something.”
“Gee, does it really show?”
“Don’t be sarcastic. We ladies have to deal with our emotions. Otherwise, they’ll just get away from us and make us into ugly bitches.”
Amy stared at the woman for a moment. “We had a fight. That’s all.”
“It’s hard for us women to understand men sometimes,” she said, opening her purse and removing a makeup case.
“And sometimes they’re just assholes.”
“I guess it can seem that way,” she said and giggled. “By the way, I know someone that could fix that.”
“Fix what?”
“Your nose, silly,” Ginger giggled. “I mean, I know everyone around here is much to polite to comment on it being crooked, but I think you would feel better if you had it fixed. How did you break it, dear? In a fight with some boy when you were a child?”
“Excuse me, but my nose has never been broken,” she said icily.
“Oh.” She dusted a little more powder on her nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She put the compact back in her purse. “But if you ever do want to get it fixed properly, I know a wonderful surgeon.”
Amy walked out of the powder room then, and Ginger followed her back to the table.
Douglass stood and took Amy’s hand. “It’s a tradition at Lambert’s to dance before the dinner.”
“I really don’t feel like dancing just now.”
“Oh, come. A beautiful woman like you wouldn’t deprive a hard-working soul like me a simple dance, would you?” He smiled. “Please?”
“I ... I really just don’t feel like—”
“Come,” he said, pulling her out away from the table. Amy finally relented and put her hands on his shoulders.
They danced like that a few moments, then Douglass pulled her closer. “A pretty face like yours shouldn’t frown so much.”
“I’ve just had a very rotten day. That’s all.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Not really, no.”
Douglass’s hands wandered over Amy’s back as they danced, and twice wandered to her buttocks, but he moved them back up before she could say anything. The third time he tried that she pulled away from him. “Well, I think that’s enough,” she said and walked back to the table.
Ginger was sitting on Allen’s lap when Amy reached the table. “Oh, Amy!” she said, “You’ve got such a yummy husband!”
“I think you mean ‘scummy’, dahling.”
“What’s the matter, ‘honey’?” Allen asked. “Afraid someone might be interested in me while you’re out there copping feels while you dance?”
Amy made a face and pulled her chair out to sit down.
“Hey!” Grant barked out. “Did your husband give you permission to sit?”
“I don’t need my husband’s permission to sit.” She started to seat herself, but stopped. “I don’t need to take any of this. Allen, I’m going home now. Are you going to get me there, or do I need to call a taxi?”
“Amy,” he said, then kissed the blonde Ginger on the lips, “You are not going anywhere. You’ve been without limits for far too long. That’s my fault, really. But for your own sake, I’m going to have to begin asserting them now.”
“Allen, you can go to hell.”
“Amy, step back from the table,” Grant told her.
“You are a bizarre bunch of people.”
“Step back from the table.”
“Allen!”
“Do as he says, dear.”
“Allen!”
“Amy, step back from the table. I won’t tell you again.”
“Allen, make him stop!”
“She is a stubborn one,” Ginger said, rubbing her hand around on Allen’s chest.
“Allen, please! Make him stop! Let’s go home!” she whined.
“Amy ....” Grant threatened.
Amy stepped back from the table.
“Douglass,” Grant said.
Douglass stepped behind Amy and began unzipping her dress.
“Stop that!” she wriggled.
“Amy, be still,” Allen told her.
“But Allen! He’s—”
“Be still!”
Amy stood still, while Douglass unzipped her dress all the way and eased it down the front off her shoulders.
“Allen! He’s going to expose my slip!”
Douglass groped her ass through the dress, and Amy wriggled again, accidentally letting the dress slip to her waist.
“Allen! Make them stop now!”
“Amy, hush.”
“Douglass, finish the job.”
Douglass pushed the dress down past Amy’s waist, leaving her standing there in her white silk slip and panties.
“Look at her nipples through the slip,” Ginger remarked. “Oh, you can tell she is really liking this!”
She knew that the blonde was right. Why?! Why was she so thrilled by all of this? She had never been turned on by anything like this before!
“Aaalllleeeenn!” she wailed, writhing. “Make them stop!”
“Honey, we’re just setting some limits for you to respect.”
“But, Allen ....”
“Take off your slip, little girl,” Grant ordered.
“Allen! Please! Make them stop this!”
“Do it, Amy.”
“But, Allen—”
“Do it.”
She couldn’t do this, she thought as her hands reached for the edges of the slip. What was wrong with Allen? How could he be acting this way?! She pulled the slip up over her breasts and heard someone give a wolf whistle. Ooooohhh, why? Why were her nipples so hard?! What was happening to her?! She pulled the slip the rest of the way over her head and stood there in just her panties.
“Allen,” she said, trying to focus past the thrill in her stomach at standing naked in front of this group of people, “Allen, this has to stop.”
“You’re right, dear.”
“I’m right?!”
“Yes. You need to stop whining every time someone gives you an instruction and just obey.”
“Allen!”
“It’s for your own good, honey.”
“Allen!”
“Take off the panties, cunt,” Grant instructed her.
“Allen!!! I’m your wife!!”
“Please,” Allen said gently, “Take off your panties, cunt.”
“Allen, baby,” she said, hooking her thumbs into the elastic waistband. She turned around and stuck her ass out. “We are mature, adult people.” She shook her ass slowly from side to side, easing the panties down over her buttocks. “We can’t be doing things like this!!!”
“Look at her panties,” Ginger said, pointing. “You can see from here that they’re soaking wet.”
Amy let the panties fall down her legs to the floor, then stepped out of them. She slowly turned around, holding her hands in front of her pussy.
“Hands out to the sides,” Grant said.
Amy watched Allen as her arms rose up, parallel to the ground. She watched the blonde tramp on his lap take his hand and cup her breast with it.
“Legs apart,” she heard Grant say.
She slid her legs wide apart, watching as Douglass’s wife eased herself down to Allen’s lap and unzipped his trousers.
“Douglass.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oooooooooaaaaaaaannnnnnnngggggggghhhhhhh,” a moan forced its way through Amy’s mouth as she felt Douglass flick her clitoris. “Make ... make him stop!” she begged, holding her position, legs wide apart, arms held away from her sides. “Ooooowwwiieeee! Make him stop!”
“Now that’s a dignified little slut,” Grant said. “Why are you doing this? Why are you listening to us?”
“I doooon’t knoooow!” she whined, wriggling, but still holding her position as Douglass lightly fingered her clit.
“You’ve always lusted after me, Amy. Ever since you were a little girl.”
“No!” she gasped. “That’s not true.”
“I would never let you act out your fantasies with me, though. And I almost regret it now. You have turned out to be such a ... frigid bitch. And it’s all my fault.”
“No! I never—oooooahnnnnggghh” she moaned as Douglass fingered her just a little faster. “Nooooooo! I never ... unnnngggh ... I never ... ooohhhhannngh ... I never fantastized about yooooouuuuu!!!!”
“Admit it, Amy.”
“No, I—no—oooooooaaaaaaannnnnngggghhhhh! No, I—Ohmygod, fuck me, Grant. Fuck me now! Come stick your big fucking cock up my cunt!!! Come fuck me now! Now!!!”
“Amy, how dignified you’re being?!”
“Oh, pleeeeaaaase! Come fuck me! Pleeeeease! I’ll suck it! Yeah, I’ll take it in my mouth and suck it soooooo good for you! If you’ll just come fuck me!! Please!”
“Show me how well you can suck on Douglass.”
“Pleeeeeaaaaase,” she whined as she sank to her knees and unzipped Douglass. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it for you!!” she said, looking at Grant and nodding. “I’ll give Douglass head. I’ll take his whole goddam prick in my throat. But you come fuck me while I do! Please!!” She wrapped her lips around Douglass’s erection, trying to maintain eye contact with Grant as she did so, then shook her ass enticingly at Grant.
She brought her mouth off Douglass’s cock with a popping sound “See?” she said, smiling nastily. “I did it! I did it for you! Come fuck me, please, Grant!” And she lowered her head back onto Douglass’s erection.
Grant unzipped his pants and let them drop, then walked up and placed a hand on Amy’s buttocks. She squealed happily past the cock in her mouth. Douglass handed him a jar of petroleum jelly, and he greased up his pecker.
Grant rubbed his cock up and down her ass cheeks, and she made cooing sounds despite the fact that her mouth was full.
“Hold her head, Douglass.”
Douglass obeyed.
“Don’t worry, Douglass, she’s programmed not to bite.”
“I know, sir,” he smiled.
Grant placed his prick at Amy’s anus, and she stiffened, but Douglass held her head at his cock. Grant pushed his cock up her asshole.
“Mmmmmmpphhhhgggllmmmmphph!!!” she moaned, muffled by Douglass’s erection. Why?! Why was she cumming?! How could she? This was dirty, filthy, anal sex with a slimy sonofabitch bastard!
Oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! she writhed.
Her clenching anal muscles caused Grant to cum. “Shame,” he remarked. “Guess I didn’t last too long that time. But then too, the little prick-tease has been showing off, trying to get me hard all evening.” He pulled out of her ass, and her butt sank down to the ground. “Oooohh,” she sighed as Douglass let her pull her mouth from his cock. “Oh, Daddy made Amy cum!”
Douglass jerked himself a few times, then ejaculated over Amy’s face and hair. She caught it all and turned around to face Grant, smiling nastilly.
“You did good, little slut.”
“Mmmmmmmm, Amy happy, Grant-Daddy.”
“That’s my girl. Now, when Ginger gets done with your husband, she’s going to give you her dildo. You know what to do with it, don’t you?”
“Mmmmm, yes, Daddy.”
“That’s my girl.”
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