Compulsions Ch. 05bynightscribe©
Cynthia Winters put on a heavy pair of Creole earrings and peered at her reflection in the mirror. Her shoulder-length blonde hair, recently curled, went well with her outfit, she thought. It was a shimmering gold sequin dress that adhered to her body like a second skin, matching her golden hair precisely.
With Howard gone, she would be attending tonight's party alone and was thankful for that. He really was a bother, at times. With him around, she could expect an hour or two of visiting, and then a quick return home, where he would expect some serious oral attention in return for 'taking her out'.
Her life was so much better with him out of the way. That young man, Michael Connors, had really done her a favor and, with any luck, he would keep his promise to get rid of Howard for good.
The front door opened. Cynthia froze, staring at her image in the mirror.
"Julie," Cynthia called. "Is that you?"
There was no answer for a minute or so.
Cynthia turned to her bedroom door. She jumped when she saw him standing there.
"Oh, my god! You startled me, Michael."
Michael Connors stepped in. "Mrs. Winters," he greeted her. He was wearing a dark suit. He was an attractive young man, with those blue eyes and muscular shoulders.
Despite herself, Cynthia found herself checking him out.
"Michael, what are you doing here?"
"I'm your date for the night, Cynthia," he said.
"Um, Michael..." the blonde matriarch began.
"I know about your little party and I decided that I'm going with you," Mike told her, firmly. "You're going to introduce me to all of your rich friends. Especially the rich bitches like you."
"But, I can't!" she protested. "Who will I introduce you as?"
"I don't know," Mike said. "Your new husband, lover and dominator, maybe? Maybe not. I'm sure you'll come up with some lie that's good enough."
Mike smiled as she stared at him, indecision warring on her face. Jennifer was right. He had Compelled Cynthia twice now and she was having a hard time disobeying him. Mike's hand played with her diamond wedding ring in his pocket. "Don't you have a kiss for your lover, Mrs. Winters?" he asked.
She stepped gracefully up to him and pressed her lips to his. A deep kiss, it was not. She barely put any tongue into it.
"That's not the proper place to kiss your dominator, ma'am," Mike said, smirking at the older woman. Mike unzipped his fly. The look of shock on her face was priceless. Cynthia's face was suddenly suffused with scarlet.
"You can't be serious," were her quiet words.
"Of course, I am," Mike said.
For a moment, he thought that she wouldn't do it. Then, with a long gulp, she slowly knelt before him. Pressing his cock against the married woman's red lips, he felt her reluctantly take him inside. A few half-hearted licks and some pathetic slobbering later, Mike remained unimpressed.
"If you won't put any feeling into it, Mrs. Winters, then I'll have to take my pleasure from your throat."
He grabbed her head and thrust his cock down her throat, hard. She coughed and he held her there, watching his cock bulge inside her graceful, swanlike neck. She gagged, violently, and tried to pull away.
Mike held her for a few seconds, before releasing her hair.
Her sexy earrings shook as she pulled off of him. "Ahhhh, god!" she gasped, "Okay, Michael, okay!"
"Then start sucking," Mike ordered.
Cynthia looked up at him, her eyes suddenly touched by feigned emotion. She moved her face forward, lips barely touching his cockhead. She moved them in a rotating motion, teasing him and kissing at his manhood. Her tongue flicked out and caressed the head of his cock, almost as if she were cupping it with a spoon. A warm, wet, fleshy spoon.
"Oooohhh..." Mike growled deep in his throat. "Keep going..."
Adjusting her attack on him, she took long, sensuous licks up either side of his penis, one after the other, and then down the underside and to his balls where she cupped them one at a time with her long, sexy tongue.
"Oh, Jesus!" Mike cried.
Pushing her face into his crotch, she kissed at his balls and rubbed them with her mouth, lips and face. "Ooohhh..." she moaned. "Oh, Michael! You're such a fucking man... Your balls are so large... Your cock is so hard..." Cynthia moved her head to the side, kissing at the long cock, and looked over the shaft, to see --
Her daughter, Julie Winters, standing in the bedroom doorway.
"Oh, my god!" Cynthia pulled her face away from Mike's crotch.
Mike looked at Julie. "Oh, come now, Mrs. Winters," Mike said. "You didn't have a problem performing in front of her the other night. Now, keep going. You were doing well."
Pressing her face back to Michael's cock, Cynthia continued working him. She could feel Julie's eyes on her, even if she couldn't see her watching. What did her daughter think of her? It was so undignified. It was true that she and Julie had been fucked together by this young man twice, now. But this time was worse, somehow... more humiliating.
Cynthia vaguely realized that Michael Connors had some inexplicable method of controlling her. She had been considering calling the police the other day, but had been unable to pick up the phone. She had been replaying in her mind what he had done to her, and each time it made her hotter and hotter, made her desire him more and more.
Suddenly, she realized that she was fucking her face desperately onto his cock, throating herself upon his beautiful meat, again and again. Her eyes clenched shut, she concentrated on pleasuring him... and herself, she realized... she loved him, loved it when she was used and abused by him.
"Ooooh, ooooooh, god, baby!" Mike cried out and came violently, ramming his cock home into her mature throat, sliding all the way down and sending his come rushing deep down her slender neck.
She choked and pulled away, barely keeping his cock and come in her mouth.
"Oh, fuck!" Mike swore, violently, as he sprayed his second and third shots of come into the mature mother's (and wife's) sexy mouth. Grabbing her by the hair, he pulled out, squirting his last few drops of come onto her ruby-red lips. Turning her head, Mike pointed her at Julie. "Now, look at your daughter as you swallow my fucking come, baby..."
Julie's inscrutable eyes studied her mother, as the older woman swallowed her young dominator's seed.
"You missed a little," Mike said. "Clean your face up and we'll go."
Mike zipped himself up and strode to Julie. Grabbing the daughter's tits, he felt her through her t-shirt.
"Oh, sir," Julie purred. "I need you so badly..." Her hands went to his chest, feeling him. "Take me, please..." Her eyes practically begged him.
"Not now, baby," Mike said. "I have a previous engagement. But I'll be thinking of you, Julie. And I want you to do something for me. I want you to finger yourself to orgasm for me, tonight, Julie... all... night... long..." Mike kissed her with great passion, sucking on her lips, and then he broke away.
"Follow my orders."
She nodded and pressed her fingers into her crotch.
Mike turned and left.
Cynthia took a quick look in the mirror, licked the come from her red lips and hurried to follow the young man out of the large house into the night. "We'll be back late, dear!" she called to her daughter.
The limo had arrived and was waiting.
Mike whistled. The Winters family lived in high style, it seemed. Mike opened the door and held it for Cynthia. She smiled and thanked him, graciously, as if he hadn't just face-raped her moments before. But, then again, she had really facefucked herself. Mike had barely touched her. He realized that his commands were working; she seemed to be treating him with more respect, more courtesy then she would normally be capable of.
The limo took off and, unnoticed by Mike, a dark car followed silently.
As the limo made its way through the streets towards its destination, Mike rested his hand on Cynthia's long, slender leg. She was fixing her makeup in a small mirror and, at the feel of his hand, she smiled.
Mike realized that he always experienced a thrilling feeling of power and dominance when he was with Cynthia Winters. It was something that Mike didn't quite feel with anyone else.
The ride was short and they soon arrived outside a large three story home with a gate and a long driveway. The limo pulled in and stopped near the front door.
Mike popped the car door and got out. Taking Cynthia's hand, he pulled her quickly to her feet after him, nearly toppling her.
Grabbing ahold of his arm, she looked into his eyes. Mike smiled. Putting her off balance was one of his new favorite things.
"Nice place," Mike said, as he turned his attention to the house. "It must be worth a couple of million bucks."
"2.5 million dollars, dear," Cynthia told him.
"Where are we, anyway?"
"Jonathan Flynn's," the haughty blonde replied. "The Judge is in Washington for a few days, leaving Evelyn by herself. She always desires company when that happens..."
"Company," Mike said. "Maybe I can help her out with that. If she's pretty, that is. What do you think, Cynthia? Is she as much of a babe as you are? Would she be a good fuck?"
"She's not me... but I think you would like her."
Together, they entered.
Mike's eyes swept across the room, taking in the furniture and lavish décor.
There must have been fifty couples mingling together. Most were men, in their 50's or 60's, with young and middle-aged wives, in their 20's, 30's and 40's. The men were the wealthy friends and acquaintances of Judge Flynn, and their wives were, for the most part, quite beautiful.
Mike studied them. Some were cold and calculating, some reserved and some sultry and seductive, but one and all, they had the look of women who lavished money and attention upon their appearances.
"Who are these people?"
"The upper crust, Mike," Cynthia said, snatching two glasses of champagne from a passing caterer.
"Some of them, anyway."
She handed Mike a glass and gestured at one darkly handsome man.
"Robert Valentino. You might have heard of him. He's into the black market: drugs, prostitution, and so on. He lives in the city, but has lady friends out here. I wonder what the Judge would think if he knew that man was in his house?"
She pointed at another, a woman around 40, with a statuesque figure and short blonde hair that reminded Michael of Samantha Collins.
"And that's Police Captain Karen Knox. She's probably not happy to find Valentino here, but she owes her position to Judge Flynn."
Cynthia indicated another woman: early 30's, with short dark hair, a slender frame with perfect breasts and high, aristocratic cheekbones.
"Dana Love. The fashion model. She's probably worth more money than anyone else in the room."
Suddenly, a voice rang out. "Cynthia, dear, so glad you could make it!"
It was a sultry, mature female voice. Mike tore his eyes from the brunette model and turned to the voice. He stared. Evelyn Flynn was a stunningly redhead, in her late forties, with sexy green eyes.
Cynthia embraced the older woman briefly and Mike took the opportunity to check out the lady of the house. She was of a height with Cynthia, or perhaps a bit taller, with slightly larger breasts.
"Of course, I'd never miss one of your get-togethers, Evelyn," Cynthia said.
"And who might this young man be?" The redhead turned her attention to Mike.
"Carlton Hayes, of Miami," Cynthia lied, smoothly. "Our families have been long-time friends and, with Howard out of town on business, he was good enough to escort me, tonight."
Evelyn stared at the two, as if trying to discern their secret connection. She had one arm crossed beneath her breasts, her champagne glass held high, nearly touching her lips. She seemed, at once, poised and relaxed.
"So good to meet you, Mr. Hayes," the redhead said. "I met your mother, Jacqueline, once, several years ago. How is she these days?"
"Just fine, Evelyn. Business keeps her occupied. I'll be sure to convey your inquiry. She'll be happy to hear that you remembered her." Mike wondered if his lies would suffice to convince her of his alternate identity.
"Oh," she laughed as if he had said the funniest thing in the world. "And how could I fail to remember someone with a reputation such as Jacqueline Hayes?" Evelyn stared at Mike, openly sultry.
"Carlton? May I call you Carlton?"
"Carl is fine."
"Carl..." she practically hissed. Her vulpine smile caressed him, like a predator seeking her next prey.
The tall, full-breasted brunette in the sleek, midnight dress mingled among the party guests, eyes tracking the young man, the blonde that had arrived with him and the redheaded woman that he was flirting with.
"Having a good time?" a man's voice asked her.
"Oh, fabulous," she responded, without looking.
"Excuse me, but do I know you?" he asked.
The brunette turned to stare at him. He was a handsome man in his twenties, with the physique of an athlete and the shoulders of a bodybuilder. His eyes seemed entranced by her. They caressed her curves in such an admiring, masculine way that the brunette was forced to reassess the man. Her blue eyes caught his in a brief embrace, one that struck him to his core.
"Katherine Thorne. We've never met, though I consider that an oversight."
He blinked, in sudden confusion, and a broad smile creased his face. "Paul Nash."
She took his offered hand and squeezed.
"Not bad," Paul said. "I like strong women."
"And what do you do?"
"Pro ball player," he said, with pride.
"Really?" the brunette said and smiled.
Taking a pair of drinks from a passing caterer, the stunning brunette settled into a light, suggestive conversation with the athletic man as she continued to study her target.
"Carl... I want you to think of my home as your own," Evelyn said. "If there is anything that you desire, anything at all, you have but to ask." That vulpine smile touched her red lips, again.
"Why, thank you, Mrs. Flynn." Mike smiled back at her. He definitely marked her as a possible liaison for later.
"Oh, Joan!" Evelyn said, suddenly, and took a step towards a passing woman, who turned to greet her. The woman's face was obscured, but the body that Mike checked out was fantastic. Modest height, slender with full breasts, sleek legs and excellent skin.
"I was afraid I was going to miss you, Evelyn," the unseen woman said and laughed, gaily.
Such a pretty laugh, Mike thought. And the voice seemed familiar to him, somehow. The unseen woman adjusted her stance and Mike could see her face for the first time... or rather, the second time.
It was Joan Wheeler.
Mike turned quickly away and hoped that she hadn't seen him.
Superintendent Joan Wheeler continued tittering with Evelyn Flynn, as Mike's blood began to boil. Not long ago, she had wronged someone close to him. Someone very close. It was something he just couldn't let slide.
Mike had to do something, to get revenge for Miss Walsh.
"It's been a pleasure..." the conversation continued. "Thank you so very much for inviting me... I really must excuse myself, for just a moment..."
Joan walked past Mike, through the milling partygoers and turned down a hallway. Mike's blood boiled over and he followed her. He caught up to her just as she entered the bathroom. He stopped at the door for a moment, catching and slowing his breath, and then entered.
Joan looked up, startled.
"What..." she began. "Excuse me."
She looked at him and waited for him to leave.
Mike didn't move.
"This room is occupied, sir... Please leave," she said, more forcefully.
"You don't remember me, Joan," Mike said. "You don't remember me and you probably don't remember Miss Robin Walsh, either. She didn't want me to take revenge for her, but she didn't say anything about revenge for myself."
Recognition dawned on her. "Oh, my god..."
Mike grabbed her and pulled her to him. Taking her by the waist, Mike kissed her deeply, forcing his lips on hers. She struggled at first, hands pushing him away. But in that moment, Mike Compelled her. An electrical shock went through her body and her mouth fell open. Mike pressed his tongue deeper into her mouth. She was limp and passive in his arms, as his lips took his pleasure from her.
Mike pressed her back to the sink, hands tearing at her blouse, ripping the buttons off the front and revealing a pale heaving bosom encased in a lacy white bra. He reached out and grabbed her slender wrists.
"I'll have my revenge in the best way I know how. You will submit to me, but not without a struggle. You will not scream or try to summon help. You will never tell anyone of this night, for the rest of your life. But you will feel the fear of it, forever."
"Oh, god! What are you going to do to me?" she asked, a terrified note creeping into her sweet voice.
"You'll find out the exact details soon enough, bitch."
"Please! I'm sorry for what I did! I swear I am!"
"I know you are. Now. Remove your bra."
Joan hesitantly undid her bra, tossed it aside and let her tits hang free. They were full and hung deliciously on her chest. Mike put his hands beneath her breasts, feeling their softness in his fingers.
"Oh, god..." she said, in disgust.
"Now, kneel and put your arms behind your back," Mike ordered.
She complied, kneeling before him in supplication.
Mike looked down at her. Unbuckling his pants, he stepped out of them. "Would you like me to take your pretty mature face, slut? Or would you rather pleasure me yourself?"
"No! Leave me alone! I'm not going submit to you!"
"Good..." Mike growled.
Mike grabbed Joan's hair and pressed her mature lips to his cockhead. Joan looked up into his eyes and shook her head. Mike slapped her across her flawless face, stunning her. Joan opened her mouth and started sucking. Soft slurping noises filled the confined bathroom, arousing Mike to his full length and girth. Her lips thrust down, taking half of his length inside her mouth. Mike twisted her head from side to side, rubbing her tongue and lips on his manhood. She sucked him for a few more seconds and then he pulled her head back.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
"Spit," he ordered.
She spat, saliva drooling from her lips and onto her breasts.
Mike took her beautiful hair in his hand, pulling her head back. Taking his cock in his other hand, he rubbed it all over her face, tracing her features and paying special attention to the age lines around her eyes and lips. She was beautiful and quite youthful for her age, a fact that he had not noticed at their first meeting. Mike ran his cock through the silver strands of hair at her temples.
"Please... please stop... please, oh, please... I won't do it again..."
"Oh god, baby, suck it," he grunted and thrust his cock back into her face. Feeling the back of her throat, he pressed deeper and penetrated her.
She pulled back suddenly; a flood of spit fell from her lips, wetting her chest, again.
Reaching down, Mike caressed Joan's breasts, rubbing the drool around her full, sexy, tits. "Try again. Go ahead and gag if you have to."
She shook her head, trying desperately to pull away from him. He smacked her again, harder. Swallowing and taking a quick breath of air, she reluctantly complied, sucking him inside her warm mature mouth, caressing him with lips and tongue.
Putting his hands on the back of her head and neck, Mike thrust forward violently, penetrating her throat completely.
She gagged and coughed around his meat, drooling uncontrollably, and tried, oh, so desperately, to pull away from him.
"Uuuuhhh, uuhhh, ugh... goooddd... uhhhhmmm..." The sounds that came from Joan's stuffed lips were erotic beyond belief.
Mike watched her, his face twisted with desire, as she struggled to control her choking. She hacked and Mike felt the shivering vibrations around his shaft. She tried to pull away and Mike held her, hacking and gagging. It felt great to have this rich bitch taking his cock down her privileged fucking throat. She choked again and Mike pulled her off of him. The matron coughed uncontrollability, spit flowing freely from her red lips, trying to recover.