If your life is anything like mine, you should know that I have a lot of work to do reading and vetting slave resumes. A slave is someone who I just tell them to do something and they do it. It’s a great honor for them, faceless, nameless, anonymous pretty slaves that have sacrificed a great amount of time and money to be here, on their knees. I think this specific night I had been thinking of, one of the agriculture slaves, one of the Gardner slaves I had, whose job had been walking out in the morning in the vast fields of roses and tending to them, had been sold to a botanist who could make better use of her talents. God that twin red headed’s bitch wet, warm mouth felt so good around my shaft, her tongue kept swirling around the head as she lovingly, gently, put her hand on the back of her sister’s head as the sister started licking and slow slicks up and down my ball sack, tasting the skin and the hair and the taste of cum and pussy juice from our earlier session that made her mouth water.
“Sir,” the first resume read. “I am writing you in response to your most recent ad. I know you are a busy man so I will get right to the point: I have many, many good qualities and am, as requested, from good breeding and went to a good college. I have included a photo as requested.”
I searched at the bottom of the yellow form envelope, the latest from a long stack on my coffee tab, and pulled a picture out. The photo was of a gorgeous blonde woman on the beach, thin with a firmly muscled stomach and the frame of a model, with medium sized tits and decent hips that looked great on her tiny frame. She was smiling.
“I would love the chance to be your sex slave, Sir. I am moderately sexually experienced and very obedient. I do well with structure and discipline. Growing up, I lived in a house much like you advertised in your pictures, but that is my family home. Now I have a penthouse my parents bought – yours, if you’ll accept me. I can speak 8 languages fluently, including French and Italian, and summered on the Amalfi coast growing up. My father is very eager that I apply for this position, and was thrilled when I came to him with the idea. I want to do as much as I can for you Sir.”
“I will admit, I am not very sexually experienced. My boyfriend was -“
I groaned. My ballsack tightened and all that precum I was leaking into the bitches mouth stopped, and the two girls could see how hard I was, how throbbing, and how my ball sack was just twitching and my big dick was throbbing in their pretty perfectly made up faces, their soft feminine lips moaning and cooing as they licked and sucked and stroked, and their large, green eyes, looking at me and begging me to nut all over their faces, and finally I just fucking exploded and started bellowing as spurt after spurt of cum came shooting out all over them, on their hair, their face, their generous tits, their stomachs. They smiled and thanked me like the whores they were and then one said to the other “I think you’ve got a little right here” pointing to her lip. “Let me get that for you.” And then the right one took the left one’s cum covered face into her hands and pressed her soft lips to hers. They could smell each other’s perfume and feel the softness of the other’s skin. Their hands quickly found each other’s bodies and started rubbing my cum into each other as they made out and groped at the other, and put on a nice girl on girl show, as I often liked them to do after cuming.
I left them there to do it and picked up the stack of resumes. “Oh Sir,” Darcy, my kitchen slavewife, said as I came into the kitchen. “I thought you had gone to bed already.” She was sleeping in her golden cage, on the top of the breakfast table, where she would return after she was finished cooking and cleaning for me.
“No I have some work to do,” I said, letting her out. I sat down at one of the breakfast chairs and relaxed. “Get me some coffee, baby, will you?”
She smiled and nodded in a gesture which I knew meant “Right away master” and put up a pot. When it was done, she poured it in a mug and brought it to me. “Would you like a blowjob sir?”
Darcy really was the cream of the crop. Last week I had pulled my BMW into the garage and as soon as my feet hit the heated concrete floor I thought I was going to collapse, I was so tired.
I walked into my home to find Darcy, otherwise naked but with a chain on her ankle, and another on her neck, both hanging loosely, attached to the heating pipe in the laundry room. As soon as she saw me her eyes came alive and in a voice heavy with lust, she said “Beth chained me to the radiator.” She was dripping, her left hand holding her up off the floor while her right rubbed her clit and I could see her hips start to buck the air a little bit. She had been pleasuring herself for a while, working herself up, waiting for me to come home,
I walked up to her and as soon as I took that thick, lush blonde hair in my hand and could feel all the exhaustion, frustration, weariness, and immense stress of the day start to evaporate.
“And why did she do that?”
I pulled her head to rest on my wool trousers. Her mouth was watering and the lids of her eyes were heavy with lust.
“Because I begged her to,” she said.
I fucked her right there on top of the laundry machine, her tits pressed up against the cold steel of the machine, which was on and working on a load, by the way. As the machine hummed and vibrated against her tits, her hard nipples feeling each wave, with all that pleasure piling up and going straight to her cunt as I pounded and pounded. The walls of her pussy felt so fucking good as they slid across me and creamed all over my dick. She was overwhelmed, she had wanted to be overwhelmed, that was what was with the theatrics, and boy did it work.
“Do you hear that bitch,” I said. “Can you hear my balls slapping against you? You make me so fucking hot, they feel so fucking full.” I pulled her chain and her back arched upwards, her screaming and moaning in rhythm with the hum of the machine but her head now held back and moaning in the air as I groaned. I gave her a break for a second, and slowed down, but before I pulled her back and put my mouth on her neck and started sucking on it as I started fucking her again slowly, and rhythmically, and I think that pushed her over the edge because I could feel her cream over and over again.
Or the time she was walking out of the shower – she insisted on long, hot showers to relax – with her towel held up to cover herself, and I saw her come out of the doorway with steam all around her and she saw how fucking hard I got for. She threw the towel away and stood in front of me with the light from the bathroom window pouring in, backlighting her, as she stood there, gorgeous, with big plump full titties, a fat ass, a tiny waist, and long blonde hair that fell over her face. Skin like olive oil and eyes like emeralds. She ended up riding me to two orgasms, my dick pumping cum into. She had to hold her tits so they didn’t bounce too much as her ass bounced up and down.
Like I said, Darcy was top notch. She looked so cute tonight, with her dimples blooming out of her smile as her heels clicked on the kitchen floor.
“No, not right now, just a back rub,” I said, taking a sip of the coffee as her hands started working on the stress filled knots in my tired, sore, aching back. Being around Darcy always made me relax. “Oooh, this is good, is this a new brand of coffee?” In spite of myself, the rich scent of the warm coffee mixed with Darcy’s perfume, which smelled, in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on, like autumn, made the amount of work I still had in front of me a little more reasonable.
“Yes it came as a gift from Rachel’s mother.” Rachel was my newly appointed chauffeur. “I opened the door today and there was this big basket that had, a – oooh Sir your shoulders are so stressed I can feel it – anyway, this big basket that had positively a bouquet of a coffee bean container. You know the kind, made of plastic. I tested some to be sure it was up to your standards, I’m so glad you like it.”
I grunted my approval and let her continue with the back rub and continued reading.
“I will admit, I am not very sexually experienced.” The resume continued. “My boyfriend was brought up religious and not the most comfortable with his sexuality, so I am only experienced with a moderate amount of things: missionary sex, blowjobs, hand jobs. We have also engaged in mild water sports, albeit only when a jellyfish bit me one summer while we were scuba diving off the coast of Australia. I want to be clear, however, that I am a fast learner and willing to learn on the job (or, slavery, as it were). I am willing to do any and all things, and you can do whatever you want to me, certainly.”
That was a red flag. Submissive women who say “You can do whatever you want to me” having not, or only just, met their dominant is a bad sign. “I hope all these things are to your liking. I graduated from Yale with a masters in accounting, and am sure, in addition to the use of my body I am so greatly looking forward to, that I could save you millions.”
The rest of the letter was her contact information and another picture of her at her Yale graduation. She looked quite attractive, and while the woman did have one red flag, the rest looked legit. I put a green post it on it and move to to the yes pile. She was worth an interview and a quickie at least.
The next woman, who was an Italian woman with dark, black hair and brown eyes with a fat round ass and big tits that bulged out of her grey swimsuit. She took the opposite tack as the well traveled yale-educated accountant did with her cover letter.
“Daddy your ad got me so wet, I want to apply and suck on that fat fucking dick and lick the nut out of your sweet hairy ball sack every day. Please daddy? I’ll call you Sir or Master and I’ll crawl to your bedroom, I’ll make sure my big tits are on the floor Sir, dragging across the floor so I remember my place, so when I take your big daddy cock out. I hope it’s sweaty so I can smear your balls all over my face and go outside with your scent so everybody will know what a whore I am, but if I deserve it will you ram that throbbing hot thick steel rod into my sweet wet cunt, Daddy? It throbs and aches for you, god I bet you’d feel so good pushing the mushroom head of your big dick deeper into me, as your balls ache and you pant and I can feel you breathing above me, harder and harder, and god from the way your balls are slapping against my clit, as I cum harder and harder from you pumping me with that thick rod and I cream all over it, I can just feeeeeeeel them getting fuller, heavier, filling up with that thick, sweet nut -“
I don’t know what the rest said, I slapped a green post it on it, put it in the yes file, and proceeded to relieve myself of the immense erection reading just the first page of this 19 page long essay entitled “Why you should fuck me” that was her cover letter gave me by fucking the living shit out of Darcy.
“Oh god baby, fuck yes.” I was tearing her bra off with my teeth. It didn’t come off but lower and her fat full tits hefted over the cups. “Fuck yes,” she said and moaned, and put her hands behind my head. God how the hell does one do that. I took one and started sucking it, swirling my tongue around her nipple, which was so hard I bet it hurt. Her perfume smelled like autumn. How does something like the smell of a season on a woman you love relax you and excite you, in equal measure, so much.
Darcy used her hands on my head to lift my mouth to hers and kissed me as he hand snaked down to my pants as felt the steel rod held down, barely, by a pair of nicely manicured beige corduroy trousers. “Poor baby,” she said. “We can’t have that thing breaking your zipper now, can we?” I could see lust in her eyes as her hand, with it’s red manicured nails, rubbed the bulge in my pants.“God you’re hard.” I kept kissing her and kissing her. “That was quick, what was in that cover letter?”
I put everything, the resumes, the pen, the settings, from the table on the counter. She had helped me pick this table out. It was made of black marble, a single solid piece, and we had found it when we were on a trip in the country in Vermont. Some artisan shop near Montpelier had it, said they had bought it, and she found it and thought it was the perfect kitchen table, and boy was she right.
“I’ll tell you when I read it,” I said, kissing her on the lips time before I smacked that gorgeous tight ass of hers, clad in the pink boy shorts she knew I loved, and saw it jiggle, before she jumped onto the table and I stepped up to meet her, before I bent her over and took her like a dog takes a bitch, fucking and fucking and fucking her and pumping and pumping.
“God fuck yes baby,” she moaned. “God I want you to breed me.” Beads of sweat were rolling down her back and down her breasts as they swayed back and forth from the thrusting, the taut muscles of her arms flexing and her legs working to keep position on her hands and knees while her Master pounded his dominance in her and she screamed and moaned.
“Can I cum, baby,” she screamed. “I mean Sir oh god please sir can I cum.”
“Cum.”
I could feel her cream on my dick, on the throbbing aching pulsing baseball bat that was temporarily standing in for my dick, just at the same moment her tongue thrust out and her eyes rolled in the back of her head to deal with the waves of oncoming pleasure.
I took her. No foreplay. No advance. She was my wife, she was my slave, and she was going to bare my child. “Breed me baby, fuck a baby into me.” She begged and begged and got more coherent as she came down from the orgasm and settled into the rhythm of all my thrusting again, but picking up her hand and shifting her weight so that she could hold herself up on an elbow, as I started kneading her right tit in my big, strong, warm hands and could feel how stiff her nipples were, while she took her other arm and reached it underneath and started rubbing my big, heavy balls as she got wetter and wetter. “God baby I can feel you, you’re so full already oh god.” Her voice was soft and sweet and as she moaned and breathed, desperately, in rhythm, the sound of her, the sound of both us, her ass cheeks slapping against my abs as dicked my bitch down, got me as stiff as I’ve ever gotten. Sawing into her dripping pussy feel so good but every time she moaned I could feel the vibrations echo straight to my dick and I couldn’t help it, I turned her over.
“That’s right baby.” Running her hands over my abs with those same delicate, well manicured fingers. I could feel their soft tips against my stomach as they ran along it. “That’s right baby look me in the eyes and fuck a baby into me, breed your little bitch, breed me and let me carry your children, I’ll give you as many as want, just keep pumping them into my fertile little cunt. God oh yes it gets so wet for you daddy. ” Every soft “oh, oh”, her feeling my stomach, the firmness there with one hand and then squeezing the muscles of my ass with another, and finally her looking me in the eyes and kissing me, and I grunted harder than I had before and she knew it was humming.
“Oh yes please yes -“
I came gallons inside her, still thrusting to push all that seed as far into her as possible, shooting white hot seed into her wet cunt, my aching balls churning and churning as they pumped all the boiling thick baby batter out of this steel pipe of a dick and into her wet cunt. It overflowed but I didn’t care, I kept thrusting until finally my balls were empty, and I was sated, and my dick was deflating, and more importantly both of our knees were giving out. She held her ankles up. “You know I’m ovulating right now.”
I smiled, and kissed her on the lips. “I know Baby.” And squeezed her left boob. “Thanks for the coffee.”
She laughed. “Oh just the coffee?”
“And the encouragement.” I hopped off the table, but she lay in that Ankle prone position.
She laughed, but then purposely widened her eyes and batted her long plump eyelashes. “And thank you Daddy,” she said in this affected breathy voice that she knew drove me wild. “Thank you for breeding your bitch in her cunt like she deserves. I can just feel it, you big virile fertile man, thank you for fucking your baby into me. I can’t wait for it to grow inside me, I bet my big titties will get so full with sweet, sweet milk, don’t you?” DROVE. ME. WILD.
“Okay I need to leave this kitchen or I’m going to want to fuck you again.” I said. “Which is a problem because my legs still don’t work.” She always called my smile dazzling. I don’t know if it was but that’s what she said. “Want your kindle?”
She nodded eagerly and I grabbed her kindle from under the pillow in her cage. She was going to stay like this for the next twenty minutes, based on past experiences. She put the kindle in her thumb and forefinger and held her ankle with the other fingers.
“Think those resumes can wait until tomorrow,” I said.
She came to bed with me later that night. She missed her cage but had been missing cuddles lately too, and those were best for a bed. She attached her ankle chain to the pillar and it jingled as she gently draped it over and onto the floor. She rested her head on my chest, feeling the gentle thrumming echoes of my heart, as I heard, and felt, the soft curls of her breathe against my skin. The trees outside shook, the rain fell, the moon rose, but all was still in this ancient, high ceilinged bedroom, with it’s black drapes and the shining eye of the night beaming it’s lunar rays straight onto her body, so when I awoke, once, during the night, having been afraid, having had a nightmare where she wasn’t there, I woke up to her find her right there, right where I needed her to be, resplendent in the moon’s light and radiant, as she slept softly there, dreaming peaceful dreams, and comforted immediately by that radiance I exhaled a sigh and there fell back asleep.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticstories/comments/m9vy6l/a_quiet_night_at_home_with_the_harem_fm_light_ds