Barry's Sluts Ch. 03: Imani

"I'll make you proud, Master! I love you so much! I want to carry all of your children!" Kitten cried happily.

"That's what I like to hear, Pet. I look forward to watching your belly swelling. I'll come visit soon."

"That would be wonderful, Master. Thank you."

"Alright, bye bye for now, Kitten."

"Bye, Master. Have a wonderful day!"

Barry hung up the phone and turned to Suzanna, beaming. "I'm gonna be a Daddy, again!"

Suzanna gave a false, Stepford smile. "That's good, honey. I'm . . . I'm glad to hear it."

He sat in his chair and felt his jubilance begin to drain away. "No you aren't. What's wrong?"

Suzanna couldn't meet his eyes. "Nothing. Look, I need to go shopping and take care of some things before work. I'll get a move on."

She stood to leave, but Barry quickly grasped her hand.

"Honey," he said calmly, but sternly, doing his best to remain civil but convey his seriousness. "Is there anything wrong? Something you want to tell me?"

Suzanna again turned and smiled, placing a hand on his. This time, she must have realized she was breaking the façade, because her acting improved. If she'd behaved this way from the beginning, Barry would have never noticed anything wrong. But, it was too late now. He'd seen the lie, so this disguise meant nothing.

Still, Suzanna persisted with it. "I'm fine, sweetie. Just exhausted from working."

For the first time, Barry decided to bring up something he'd slowly noticed over the past two months.

"Suze, you've been putting on weight," he said. "You know, if you're pregnant, you can talk to me about it."

Barry and Suzanna had always talked about what they would do if her birth control ever failed. Oh sure, she was a professional porn actress, so she used a ridiculous number of contraceptives, but none of those methods would ever amount to a perfect 100%, no matter what she did. The risk was always there, especially with as much sex as she had, so they needed to be responsible and talk about it.

If she got pregnant, it'd be hard to prove paternity. Sure, pre-natal tests existed, but most of them required waiting until dangerously late into the pregnancy. After the child was born, paternity would hardly matter, because the baby would already be here, and as her husband, it'd be legally Barry's regardless of who its genes belonged to.

But even disregarding that, Suzanna was born and raised Catholic. Though she didn't identify with many religious mores these days, she still found abortion abhorrent and was hesitant to seriously consider it as an option. She had always insisted that she would go through with it if it made Barry happy, but he countered by saying that he wasn't interested in doing something she was uncomfortable with.

And if Barry had to be fair, Suzanna diligently put up with the amount of children he had fathered from various women. According to his current count, there were fourteen, with a fifteenth now on the way. Including Ariadne, all of the other mothers were raising their children relatively alone, or with nannys or willing cuckolds, but Barry still made time out to see them and let them know they had a father who cared.

Suzanna herself even visited them often, and amongst all of them, had come to be known as "Nanna", which she liked because it rhymed with her name. She treated all of them wonderfully.

So that left them with Barry's conclusion: If his wife became pregnant, they would keep the child and raise it regardless. He would raise it as his own, with just as much love as he showed his real children. He'd never even bother with a paternity test. As far as Barry was concerned, any child passed through his wife's womb deserved his love, because of how much he loved her.

But Suzanna knew this. They had talked about it again and again and again. She continued to tell him that she would consider abortion as an option if it made him happy, despite Barry's insistence that it wouldn't. It was obviously a subject that bothered her immensely, even though Barry had already made up his mind about it.

So, to that end, he felt the need to repeat his stance, one more time.

"I'm not pregnant, Barry," she said. Her tone actually seemed angry that he would suggest it.

But she had still been lying to him lately, so he repeated himself yet again. "Suze, just listen, please. If you are, then . . ."

"God dammit, Barry! I said I'm not pregnant! Jesus, you're starting to act like Victor did!" She yanked her hand away from his and accidentally causing his bowl of cereal to fall on the floor and shatter.

Barry sat up straight, stunned. This was the first time she'd ever shouted at him. Not once before in their entire marriage. Not even before they were married.

And worse, she'd compared him Victor. The jealous, asshole boyfriend she'd been with before they became lovers. The one who'd tried to kill her.

What the HELL?!

At that time, Barry heard the side door open, and one of his tall security officers poked his head into the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Garrett? Everything alright here?"

"Y-Yeah, Steve," Barry said calmly. "Everything's fine. You can go back to your post."

"Yes sir," he said, nodding to both of them.

When he was gone, the couple stayed quiet for some time, both thoroughly embarrassed. Finally, it was Barry who broke the silence.

"Well dammit, something's been going on with you lately, and I don't know what the hell it is. Suze, I love you . . . and the way you're changing is . . . well, it's scaring me, baby."

Suzanna looked away from him again. ". . . I need to get moving, honey. I've got a long day." She pulled away again and walked briskly from the kitchen, never even bothering to answer his statement.

******

Nothing improved for months afterward. At least, not under the surface. Suzanna began making an honest effort to behave better, but whatever was submerged in her skin was still there. She stopped pretending to go to work and took a sabbatical. As both her boss and her husband, Barry didn't have a problem with granting that request, but it was just another in a long line of disturbing changes.

Suzanna temporarily moved to Chicago with Ariadne and Emily, saying she'd use the time to help around the house there and whenever Barry would come to Chicago to visit, she said she would make it up to him by fucking his lights out.

But he was still worried. Why was she suddenly distancing herself from him? Why the spontaneous desire to "make up for" past behavior? A sudden guilty conscience and increased hunger for sex were not healthy signs in a marriage.

But Barry hardly had any time to sweat over it. He was kept far too busy with his workload: article-writing, sexology lectures, occasional therapy sessions, and constant travel. On top of that, he was balancing the remaining time amongst all of his submissives their children. Ironically, it was thanks to Suzanna's teaching that Barry had learned to juggle such a hectic schedule, but now it was preventing him from immediately sorting out whatever was wrong with his marriage.

Before he knew it, eleven more months had passed with little change.

One of the bright spots he enjoyed was the time spent with Imani. When he was in LA, she was the only really close friend he had there now. The two of them had really become close—best friends, even—after knowing one-another for over a year. Until recently, Suzanna had always had that job, but until she was ready to confront whatever was causing these changes, that was no longer the case. Barry still loved her enough to be patient, but he wouldn't put his entire life on hold in the meantime

Suddenly, he felt the sting of hard leather square on his nose, and Barry stumbled backward, his body falling against a set of elastic ropes. He shook off his dizziness quickly and came back to reality just in time. He threw up his guard as Imani closed in and began pelting his arms with a flurry of hard, stinging combinations.

"If you're gonna space out, I'm gonna pop you," she told him. "Even if this is sparring, you said you do this for self-defense, so I won't show any mercy."

She continued her barrage of attacks, with Barry turtling behind his arms to just try and weather the storm. Being smaller, her hits lacked the force to really hurt him, but each one stung like a thousand bees, and she was the faster of the two. Despite her stockier, meatier body and the weight her enormous chest had to be adding, Imani was still ludicrously swift, and she danced around Barry as he tried to maneuver off of the ropes.

His boxing technique had improved greatly since he'd begun sparring with his sister. She was telling the truth about being a former champ—there wasn't a single woman in the gym who could last a round with her. Hell, she'd even KOed and gone the distance with some of the men she faced off with. To date, Barry himself was the only person who could consistently go ten rounds with her, and neither one had ever produced a decisive win over the other. Every match they had went the distance, with their peers calling the matches wins for either side alternatively.

She was just too fast to catch, and he was too stubborn to go down. The unstoppable force and the immovable object.

Finally pushing himself off the ropes, using his size to bully his sister backward, Barry put enough space between the two to come out his shell and mount some offense. As always, this was when Imani turned "Ali" and started dancing around the ring, just daring him to try and close some distance.

"What's the matter, baby brother?" she taunted him. "You seem kind of distracted."

"Don't worry about me," he said. "Concentrate on keeping my fist from popping your head off your shoulders."

"Oh, I ain't worried about that," she said, scooting backward as he threw an obvious straight. "See? Your mind's too busy on other things and your speed's off. At this rate, I could dance around all night and win off straight points."

Barry smirked. "We're the only ones here," he said, commenting on the empty gym.

"Yeah, but you'd know I won, and I'd know I won. And you don't strike me as the dishonest type."

Barry chuckled. "Oh, I've had my moments of shadiness."

She shared a laugh, and continued doing her springy steps. "But seriously, what's the deal? Still got problems with the missus?"

With Ariadne a thousand miles away, and left with nowhere else to turn, Barry had begun confiding about his problems to Imani. She offered a sympathetic ear and some friendly advice, and was now more intimately aware of Barry's personal secrets than anyone outside of his wife and mother. She knew almost everything about his sex life now . . . his open marriage, his stable of submissives, and the sixteen children he now had with various women.

The only things he hadn't told her about were Ariadne's escort service, his blackmail by Bill Thornton. . . . And the incestuous relationship he had with his own mother. Imani knew that he had nine children with one particular submissive, but she didn't know that said submissive was his own mother.

In the past year, Barry had eased on his determination to fuck his sister, just a bit. Of course, he was still trying, but she was becoming more valuable to him as a confidant. He didn't care about sharing the details of his personal life with her anymore, and if that served to turn her off from wanting to fuck, then so be it.

So, if she wanted to talk, fine. "Yeah, I'm thinking about Suzanna again," he said, answering her question.

"Just tell her there's a problem and you ain't gonna live with it no more. If she loves you, she'll listen."

"I've tried that, but every time we talk about it, there's more lies. She lies straight to my face, and if I catch her in one, she just builds a better lie."

Imani frowned. "That doesn't strike me as a good thing."

"No, it isn't," he spat bitterly. "It's like she's got a secret identity, and whenever I try and take off the mask to see what's underneath, there's another damn mask right underneath it.

"Another thing is the way she keeps ditching the security I try to keep around her. She won't let them drive her anywhere, and none of them can account for her whereabouts.

"And then, there's the whispery phone calls."

Imani's ears perked up. "Phone calls?"

"I've heard her whispering, but the details were vague. But words and phrases I've heard over and over again were 'fucking me', 'if I get pregnant', and 'don't let my husband find out'."

Finally, Imani stopped prancing around. She dropped her guard and stood in awe of Barry's words. "Holy crap, Barry . . . that doesn't sound good."

"I know!" he yelled bitterly. "If she's having an affair with someone, why couldn't she just tell me?! It's not like I've ever been jealous of her fucking other guys before . . ."

"Yeah, but that was for her job, right?" Imani asked thoughtfully.

"Right," he nodded.

"And you said that when you collar a favorite submissive, you don't let them fuck anybody without your permission, and certainly not other men, right?"

Barry's brow narrowed. "Certainly not." No man had ever touched his mother after he'd begun fucking her, and as far as he was concerned, no man ever would. Barry was a hedonist, and he celebrated all things sexual, but he also admitted to being a selfish hedonist. The ultimate power and thrill for him was being the sole cock in a slave's life. Claiming her as his own and doing with her what no other man ever can or would. Even the married women he'd collared had made their pussies off-limits to their husbands. Even Trena, the sluttiest woman of them all, never strayed from him and compensated by increasing the amount of cock she got at the studio during filming.

The idea of having another man touch his collared submissives made him ill. Any of them who felt uncomfortable with the arrangement could, of course, opt-out at any time, but only after returning his collar. There would be no hard feelings, and everyone would just go their own way. To date, though, not a single one of his collared slaves had ever done so.

Imani nodded, noticing his agitation. "But Suzanna isn't one of your collared broads. She's your wife, which means that she has something even more precious than a collar. If you get this riled up from just thinking about the other women fucking someone else, then the feeling must be double for your wife, right?"

"No," Barry said with a sigh. "It's triple."

Then an idea sparked in his mind. "Oh my God. Do you think she feels the same? That she's actually hated sharing me with other women all this time?"

Imani shrugged. "It's possible. She might have even meant it when she said she didn't mind back then, but things can change. She might have felt it was unfair that you could fuck anybody you wanted, whenever you wanted, and she couldn't. This could just be a petty act of rebellion on her part."

"But she knows damn well that she's my priority. I'd give all the others up, if she asked me to." But then, Barry's teeth grit. "But if she feels that way, that doesn't excuse her not telling me."

Again, Imani nodded. But then, Barry suddenly felt leather strike his face again, this time pushing him off-balance and tipping him to the mat. Stunned, he looked up to see Imani standing with her gloved hands in the air, bouncing in victory, even as her buoyant tits juggled with her.

"I did it! Finally knocked you down!"

"The fuck?!" Barry exclaimed. "We were having a serious moment! And hell, that wasn't even a knockdown. I just got pushed over."

"Whaaatever. I told you I wasn't showing any mercy," she said. "You step in the ring with me, you gotta be ready for anything. And besides . . ." She leaned back against the ropes. "You looked ready to blow off some steam. So let's get this party started for real."

"Oh yeah?" he said, getting to his feet. "If this is super-for-realsies fighting now . . ."

"It is."

". . . then why don't we say screw the rules, and anything goes?"

"Alright," Imani said with a confident smirk. She lifted her glove to her mouth, where she bit down on the drawstring and unraveled it. Once the glove was loose, she tossed to the floor and then repeated the same thing with the other one, freeing both of her hands. "Let's do this, then."

Barry laughed. "You know that fists do more damage with gloves on, right? All the extra padding actually increases the mass and force behind a punch, and makes it harder to break your hand on top of that."

She put up her dukes. "Oh, look at you, a big science nerd." She grinned evilly. "When I was in high school, I ate nerds for breakfast."

"Heh. So did I." Barry took his stance. "Whatever. Your funeral. Kicking your ass and giving you good advice aren't mutually exclusive."

Barry tried to swing, but she ducked to her left and grasped his arm immediately after the attempt. With her free hands, she immediately captured his arm and delivered a knee right to his solar plexus that did extra damage thanks to the forward momentum from his missed punch. Barry stumbled over and felt his arm twist behind as Imani leaned her weight into him, forcing him face-down to the ground, with his arm locked backward.

Barry growled in intense pain and tried to move. But, every time he did, the pain just worsened until he screamed.

"Tap," she told him. "Tap if you don't want me to break it."

But he wasn't having any of that. He withstood the pain and fought through it, trying again and again to gain centimeters of leverage, slowly trying to work his way out of the hold even as his shoulder burned.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" she barked at him. "Just give it up and know when you're beat."

The pain was nothing. Barry fought through it, slowly pushing off the mat and regaining control. Even as he did so, the arm bent further, and for a moment, it really was threatening to break. But then, Imani's grip loosened, and Barry managed to free himself completely. Immediately, he flipped over and grabbed her, pinning her hard on the mat with his body firmly pressed against hers.

"One. Two. Three," he counted.

"The fuck? What is this, wrestling now?" she protested.

"I thought we were making up the rules as we go," he answered smugly. "So, I win."

In defiance, she struggled to get free, wobbling underneath him to get free. But Barry was too strong. Imani was immensely muscular for a woman, and her abs were a phenomenal eight pack, but she couldn't compete with Barry, who approached herculean levels of muscle. Working out every day for eight years, pushing his body to the absolute brink, had made him a veritable mountain of protein underneath his business attire, so she wasn't going anywhere.

But, that didn't mean her struggling didn't accomplish anything. As she wriggled below him, she stimulated his body . . . his instincts. In moments, he was becoming hard, and it was easy to tell under the thin material of his boxing shorts.

When she realized, Imani glanced down. "Enjoying this a little too much, aren't we?"

Barry swallowed, barely able to fight the lust in his eyes. "Imani, look, I . . ." In truth, he didn't need to say a word. His eyes said it all. The way he looked at her, the way his lips trembled, the way his body pressed into her eyes, they all spoke volumes for him.

They all said, Imani . . . I want you.

She saw it. She looked him over once, studiously observing the complexities of his desire before deciding her next move. The ball was completely in her court, and she knew it. For any sensible human being, there was just one thing to do. For any reasonable human being, it was simply a matter of moving apart and pretending this never happened.