Free Universal Carnal Knowledge Pt. 28

XXVIII

"We'll have to get a whip"

Like the good and attentive wife she was, Wendy instantly recognised the symptoms. (Maybe they were not so hard to detect. I was standing there stark naked, red in the face and panting for air, a hand against the wall for support, with my dangling cock coated white with spunk dribbling in little gobbets on the floor.)

"Hello, darling," she said brightly; "lovely to see you home so early. And how is young Kylie?"

I corrected her misapprehension. "Wendy, darling, we have a new recruit."

She was intrigued. "Really? May I see?"

"Main bedroom," I told her and she disappeared upstairs while I made myself slightly less indecent by struggling into the dressing-gown I had brought downstairs with me.

Wendy returned wide-eyed. In her hand she carried the monstrous bra. For a moment she was unable to speak.

"I've never seen anything like it," she said at last. "The poor girl is deformed. Wherever did you find her?"

"In a suburban bookshop. She was in the Business Studies section."

"She's so huge I don't know how she managed to show herself in a public place. Didn't people stare at her?"

"Well," I explained, "trussed up in that apparatus you're carrying and with a baggy rugby shirt on she's quite well disguised. When I first saw her she looked merely enormous. It wasn't till I got her back here that I discovered she was stupendous."

Wendy was examining the bra. When she put one of the colossal cups over her head, there was plenty of room to spare. She looked absurd, wearing the cup as if it were a very baggy hood. "She's had this made specially," she said. "You couldn't get something like this off the peg, even in that specialist shop Alicia goes to." She abruptly sat up and whipped the grotesque bra cup off her head, looking at me with great concern. "Alicia! James, what about Alicia? She'll be so hurt."

"She'll be fine," I told her complacently.

"Oh, good," she replied, instantly reassured. I marvelled at the power of FUCK.

Wendy looked thoughtfully at the bra again. "James, darling," she asked; "if her bust is this big now, what on earth is it going to be like when Albert's potion gets to work on it?"

"I don't know," I told her, "but I'm looking forward to finding out."

"Well," said Wendy philosophically, "I'm sure she'll like the result as much as you do. By the way," she added casually, "you haven't told me her name."

Even fuelled by FUCK I felt embarrassed. "I don't know it," I confessed. "I never got round to asking. In fact, we haven't exchanged a single word."

So I told her the full story of the capture. I also took the opportunity to finalise plans for Saturday and update her about Gina. "Well," she said, "you have been a busy boy."

Mentioning Gina reminded me that I had meant to ring her, so I fished her card out of my pocket. She was, naturally, delighted to hear from me. "Jim honey, you want me? Just tell me where you are, honey, I'll be right there."

I reflected that I had Wendy, Kylie, and Ms Humungous ready and available and Alicia should be home any minute, so I told her that her services would not be needed for the moment. I had simply wanted to thank her for lunchtime and check she was all right.

"Never better," she said. "I bet you're surrounded by women right now. Lucky bitches. What about tomorrow?"

"I thought you'd be working."

"I'll always take time off for you, Jim honey. How about your lunch break?"

It was a tempting thought. The office was becoming rather a trial; it was the only place I had to spend a substantial time without getting inside some beautiful and compliant women and the regular wanks in the gents were less and less satisfactory as a substitute. Fran and Connie were there, of course, but their recovery time, although falling all the while, still ruled out the lunchtime quickie I had such need of.

But no; work was piling up on my desk and I needed some solid office time to clear it. I told Gina to go to work, have fun, and make lots of "lurvely" money.

"Sorry to hear it, hun," she said resignedly. Then she brightened. "Say, Jim, how would it be if I asked someone else along? I saw the way you looked when I talked about those bloody East European girls. I could get one of them to join us. How would that be, hun? A curvy little old black bird and a perfect teenage blonde?"

She had found her point d'appui. I wavered. "Er ..."

At this point Wendy, who had been listening with interest to my end of the conversation, hissed to me, "Go on! Do it!"

I put my hand over the receiver. "You don't even know what she's suggesting," I pointed out.

"I don't need to," she replied. "Whatever it is, I can see you want to do it, so do it!"

I spoke into the phone again. "All right, Gina, it's a deal. Expect me at twelve-fifteen."

"Right you are, hun. I'll make sure I line up a good 'un." She made the girl sound like a commodity, which of course she was.

I hung up, and told Wendy what I had just agreed to at her urging. "That sounds nice," she replied evenly.

Just then we heard the key in the door and Alicia came in. "Hi James, hi Wendy," she called. "I can't wait to get out of this thing."

Since the garden party it had been Alicia's habit immediately upon returning home each day to take off her top and remove her bra, not necessarily bothering to replace the top afterwards. It was a practice that I saw no reason to discourage.

However, I did not want to deal with her now -- I was desperate for a shower -- so while she was busy unfastening herself I put my finger to my lips to tell Wendy to say nothing about the new girl, then I went upstairs to clean up.

After my shower I found Alicia, unashamedly topless, chatting cheerfully to Wendy whilst helping prepare dinner. I sat her down and told her that there was something I wanted her to see. Then I led her to the main bedroom. The new girl was still lying in exactly the same position; I thought I detected a slight movement of her eyes as we entered but I may have imagined it. Alicia simply stood there gaping until I led her out again.

"J-James, she -- I mean, they -- James, that's not possible! And I ..." She trailed off and looked down at her own bust as if it were suddenly inadequate. "You -- you won't want -- " she stammered.

I held her in a big supportive hug. "Alicia, you are so precious and special to me," I whispered. "Of course I want you."

In her desperation she pressed herself even tighter against me. She was so young, so sweet, so devoted. So sexy, too, I thought, as my cock stiffened. "I want you right now," I added, gently steering her towards her bedroom. And there I proceeded to administer the best reassurance I possibly could.

The sex was fantastic. I had noticed that as time went by my urges were growing stronger and when I satisfied them I ejaculated ever more copious amounts of spunk. I left Alicia blissed out and brimming with it. Her recovery time was now down to about thirty minutes; just time for a quick private chat with Wendy.

First, however, I briefly looked in on the tits. She still had not moved, but this time her eyes definitely responded. I had a terrible plan in mind for her. A tiny seed of thought had germinated in my brain when she and I were fucking and, despite my attempts to get rid of it, it had now taken firm root. Part of me was appalled: I knew that such a thought should never have crossed my mind and if it had I ought to have dismissed it instantly. But more of me was excited: I could do it, I wanted to do it, and I was going to do it.

I knew, or at least some small part of me knew, that FUCK was affecting my standards of conduct, making me arrogant and predatory. There had been an indication of this the night before, when after seeing Fran and Connie (Gabby, who worked for a public relations firm, was away for a couple of days seeing clients in Germany) I had phoned Yvonne to make sure she had got home safely. During quite a long conversation in which she told me more about her circumstances and her poverty-stricken family in Zambia, she had still addressed me as "sir" throughout. Now she was under control a word from me would have got her to switch to "James" but somehow I never uttered it. To be honest I found it flattering and exciting to be addressed so deferentially; and now, with the new girl, I was to take this idea much further.

When I got downstairs I found Wendy still busy in the kitchen. "Alicia's happy now, is she, darling?" she asked.

"I think so," I replied. "I want to talk about the new girl. I've decided what to do with her."

Wendy sat down and waited for me to continue, her head cocked to one side.

Now that it had come to it I could hardly bring myself to say the word. Was it really my own voice I was hearing? But my decision had been taken and despite my inner qualms I announced it in a firm, resolute tone.

"She's going to be my slave."

A strange expression came over Wendy's face. At first I thought it was horror or disgust but then she spoke in an entirely matter-of-fact way and I realised it had merely signified puzzlement about my portentous manner.

"But James, darling," she said, "surely you realise you've enslaved all of us?"

I felt irritated that such a momentous announcement had fallen so flat. "This is going to be different," I explained. "I want her utterly subservient, servile."

"We'll have to get a whip," suggested Wendy brightly, but she must have seen the horrified look on my face because she immediately held up a defensive hand. "Joke, joke; James, darling, I'm only kidding."

But, I wondered, had she been?

"Darling," she asked hastily, "why do you want to treat her in this special way?"

I had been asking myself the same question so I had some sort of answer ready. "The way I see it is," I explained, "that the girls I've acquired so far, or most of them anyway, are all special. In pride of place there's you; you're my wife, I love you dearly and always shall." I bowed low to her. "Fran and Connie are more like close friends. All right," I conceded, "I know I fuck them a lot but that's not the point. I can talk to them in an easy and natural way and although they're very different they both have splendid qualities that I really value. And then there's Alicia. She's so sweet and so devoted I just want to look after her; it's not too much to say that she's like a daughter to me." At this Wendy sharply raised an eyebrow. "With a tendency to incest," I admitted.

"But," I went on, "it can't go on this way, with every girl special. I've got twenty-six pending from the garden party and that won't be the end of it. The idea of new girls still excites me -- you saw how Gina lured me round to her place. As I get more and more, what's going to happen? My wife will always be number one, of course," I assured her, "however many I get, and girls like Fran and Connie and Alicia will still be special too, but they can't all be special. Realistically, some of them will just be conveniently to hand when I need a fuck and, if I'm honest, I can see that even some of the girls I've got now might end up like that."

"You mean like Kylie?"

I had not thought of that and it troubled me. The girl was hardly eighteen and utterly under my control and was that the fate I had reserved for her? To be one of my spunk spittoons? But I had to admit that Wendy, like the intelligent woman she was, had judged shrewdly. "I suppose so," I acknowledged; "or Gabby."

"At any rate," I resumed, "that girl upstairs is always going to be special and after the way I captured her -- and Wendy, believe me, 'capture' is exactly the right word -- I think she's mine, not in the sense that all the other girls are mine but absolutely mine, utterly mine. I own her."

"All right," said Wendy. "You'd better tell her."