Barry's Queens Ch. 01

Barry's magnificent, powerful body turned and faced Ariadne, with his cock ready and stiff as a sword. With each step of his toned, muscular physique, she spread her thick, meaty thighs wide, welcoming the Master between them.

Barry's lips, tongue and fingers went to work on her pussy. His lips kissed the folds of her sex, his tongue invaded her, and his fingers opened the spots that were hard for the previous two to reach. Even Barry's teeth did their job, nibbling oh-so-gently on the budding of her clit, and pulling on the tender, sensitive portions of her flesh. Ariadne was instantly in heaven, and an orgasm shook her before she could catch her breath. It was so good—so good!

Seeing her own opportunity to assist, Ariadne's own slave—and her wife—joined the activity and knelt behind the Master, using her fingers and thumbs to open his rear door, and then allowing her lips and tongue to gently and lightly circle the circumference. Resulting in a chain of euphoria; a chain-reaction that was always the result of well-coordinated sex.

But now, Ariadne's body was worked up, and it needed more.

"P-Please, Master . . ." she gasped when she finally had breath again, "I need it inside me."

Somehow, Barry answered without breaking his rhythm on her pussy. "You need what, my Slut?"

"I -- I need your cock," Ariadne said gladly. "I need your cock inside me."

"Where?"

"Inside my pussy of course, Master."

"Why there?"

"To breed me, Master. Like a mare. Like a cow. Like a bitch in heat. The way a son is supposed to."

Barry's face was flush with lust. That was all he needed.

Barry's powerful shoulders rose from between Ariadne's legs. On the way up, he made sure to lick her belly, sensually, as if to mark the place he moments from breeding. He took the time to admire the words "Son's Slut" that were tattooed her wide belly. Even more delicious was the way that the font had become slightly damaged from stretch marks, after her many, many pregnancies.

Finally, Barry's body was in position. He glanced lovingly into Ariadne's sparkling brown eyes. He felt power in her need.

"You put it in," he told her. "Put in the thing you want to breed you." A crazed and eager Ariadne reached down without hesitation; her fingers locked onto his, massive cock and guided it towards her hole. Even Ariadne's own wife assisted, joining in the effort to place her son's cock inside.

Barry relaxed, and his hips slowly sank. Inches of his cock slowly penetrated, and Ariadne sighed with satisfaction, allowing her Master easy access to insert his tongue and kiss her.

"Whose cock is inside you, right now?" he demanded.

"My only son's cock is inside me right now."

He inched in slightly further. "And what's it going to do to you?"

"It's going to breed his mother. It's going to knock his mother up. It's going to make a baby inside her."

"A beautiful, incestuous baby in his mother's womb?"

"Yes, Master," Ariadne cried, shivering with anticipation. "My womb exists to make my son's children."

Even he couldn't take it anymore. With feverish energy, he pounded his cock into his mother's pussy and mercilously smashed her pussy. Ariadne's eyes rolled back as an immediate orgasm swept over her, and her head banged roughly against the headboard. She locked her legs and heels lock behind her son's back, spurring him further and forcing his hips into a mechanical rhythm. She thrashed beneath him. The chains on her legs and collar, symbolic of her servitude and dominance by her son, clanked and rustled loudly as he took her pussy earnestly.

Lust welled within him, pushing him to move faster until his body tightened. Ariadne felt it coming, and she opened her eyes, gazing upon her son's eyes as his orgasm took hold. She licked her lips as she watched him. She studied him. Every feature in his face, every movement of his eye, every muscle in his jaw. She watched it all as he groaned with release, a faucet of cum jetting into her womb. She relaxed her pussy to accept it—all of it—every ounce of sperm her son shot into her. This was her duty. This was her only reason to live now. To accept her son's genes into her body so that he could breed her with her own grandchildren.

And thanks to the procedure she'd had done more than three years ago, she was fully capable of baring children, no matter how much her age caught up with her.

As Barry, exhausted, collapsed atop his mother's body, her large breasts cushioning him gently, Ariadne cradled him like any loving mother should. She gazed to her side, both to Emily and Trena, as the two of them lay on the floor in chains, kissed one-another, rolling their tongues in one-anothers' mouths. They too were pregnant—both with the Master's third child from each of them.

Barry's breathing was slowing, and she felt his cock already softening. Still, he stayed parked inside her, clogging her tunnel, keeping every ounce of his cum inside her to ensure conception. It was thirty minutes before Barry stirred again, his wet cock sloppily exiting her cunt, as three eager slaves pounced upon it like piranha, eager to gobble up both juices.

A number of hours later, mother, son, and Sluts all enjoyed the afterglow. Ariadne's soft naked body still draped over her son. Her soft tits pressed against his manly torso.

"I can feel it, honey," she whispered into Barry's ear. "I can feel your baby being made inside me as we speak."

Barry chuckled. "That's impossible, Ma."

"It never is for me," Ariadne persisted, taking a hand and gently, sensually caressing her son's thigh. "I can always sense when my boy has knocked his mama up. I'm so excited honey . . . I can't wait to make another baby for you."

While on the subject of their children, a particular source of Barry's dread returned. "Ma . . . I'm completely lost."

"About what, hon?"

"Lyrica."

She seemed to know what he meant. "She's a teenager, baby. They all get a little rebellious at this age."

"I guess, but . . . was I like that?"

"Maybe a little." Ariadne pressed her lips gently against his back. "For a while, I was always afraid I'd lose you. You've always been stubborn, and it was hard for me when you started getting your own friends and having your own life. You were all I had, so I thought I was being shut out."

"I'd never shut you out, Ma," Barry told her, placing his hand upon hers. "You were all I had, too."

"Yes, I know that now, honey. How could I not know how you really felt, after all these years and all of our babies? That's why it makes me so happy to give you as many as you want. We've always had each other, honey, and now I know why."

Barry leaned back and lovingly kissed his mother, letting their tongues sloppily roll across one-another. The room filled with the sounds of soft, sweet suckling.

But when it ended, Barry sighed and said, "So you think I should just give Lyrica her space?"

"Probably. But not too much, of course."

"So I give her space, but not too much."

"Yup."

"Yeah, that sounds like parenting advice. Grah. Why can't things be simple?"

"Because if they were, they wouldn't be much fun to overcome, would they?" Ariadne said, giving his balls a loving squeeze. "We overcame my menopause, didn't we, sweetie?"

"That was different, Ma. That was science."

"And this isn't? Barry, my son, I've taught you a lot. But, if there's anything you've taught me, it's that there isn't anything you can't do. I believe in you, Barry. As a faithful Barrican woman, I believe in you more than anything else on this Earth. You can overcome anything."

That was enough. Barry had no choice. As she yelped in shock, Barry yanked his mother onto her back, put her feet on his shoulders, and pounded the living shit out of her pussy. So swift and powerful were his movements that Emily and Trena accidentally went flying out of the bed.

For twenty solid minutes, Barry drilled his mother's pussy as hard and as deep as he could, only stopping to drop his breath after his sweat-drenched buttocks had clenched and his cock sent as much sperm as it could carry into her womb.

"There!" Barry said confidently, sweat beading down his face. "By your logic, now you should have twins."

Ariadne reached up, licking her fingers clean of the mix of semen and pussy juices she'd collected. As always, Emily and Trena were there to share. "Actually, Master . . . I think you might have given me quadruplets."

"What? Get out," Barry said disbelievingly. "You've never even had a multiple birth before. And like I said, it's impossible for you to know that!"

Ariadne chuckled softly as she caressed her dear son's face. "We'll see won't we, my love?"

******

ONE WEEK AGO

Over the past three years, Garrett Living had become spread across four distinct enterprises: Entertainment, Hospitality, Therapeutics and Social Development. Each division remained autonomous, but Barry remained involved in each. Naturally, sex and erotica were a major focus of each division, but just how much sex became involved in day-to-day business varied here and there.

Of course, the mob always wanted a cut of his action. Barry had made it clear that he wanted his fronts to be the only places where hookers, whores, and pimps were able to turn any tricks, and the mob always had incentive to agree with him, because Barry kept the money flowing in. Within a few years, not a handjob, blowjob, or rimjob happened after the exchange of money unless Barry Garrett had a hand in it. And hell, since he owned a third of the hotels, and a sizable chunk of condos, he had a hand even when money wasn't involved.

"I'm impressed, Mr. Garrett," Sly Cat stated, slapping the younger man on the back. "Since you've come around, profits have slowly tripled."

Barry shrugged and tipped his glass to the older mobster's, giving a confident eye before downing his drink. "What can I say, Mr. Castiglione? I know something about running a business." After taking a sip, he then added, "But it's Doctor Garrett now, sir."

"Yes, whatever, kid. Don't push your luck. You're a shrink, not a real doctor. And if you weren't making me a fortune, you and I would have words for the way you look at my daughter."

Barry shrugged. "When you put it that way, why don't we just call it even?"

"Damn straight," Sly agreed, chuckling as he took his drink. "But you're right about knowing how to run a business. You get things done, and you got some good ideas. But the difference between you and I is still power.

"I own Manhattan, The Bronx, and a good chunk of the boroughs. Nothing happens in my city without me knowing about and making money off it. Pretty soon, I'll be the one running things across the Tri-State, and I'll need as many trustworthy people as possible to help me run it."

Barry could feel an ulterior message behind the old man's words. "What are you saying, sir?"

"I'm saying why don't we make you part of the Family? Unofficially, of course. You can't be Made, because you have other loyalties outside of our business . . . and you ain't an Italian. Rules is rules, ya know.

"Still, I have big plans for the future, and I could use someone like you to help. You know how to deal with people, and take charge without getting too involved. That's something I might need."

"What would you need me to do?"

"Just get me results and make me some money," Sly Cat told him, confidently gripping his shoulder. "You got the charm and you got the good sense. Just use your natural good looks and talent to make me money, and things will work out just fine."

Barry and Sly Cat touched glasses once more, and Barry took the time to deeply consider his options.

"So what about Kilroy?" Barry asked him.

"What about Kilroy?" Sly responded smugly.

Barry's eyes widened. "Wait, you aren't thinking . . . you're gonna make a play on Kilroy?"

"Eventually," the old gangster nodded. "The guy may be big, but he ain't untouchable. I'm not trying to rock the boat just yet, but in a few years yet, who knows? But right now, I'd like to know if you're interested, is all."

Sabre Kilroy was a notorious nation-wide criminal, so crazy that even the old Syndicate didn't want to work with him. Everyone who knew him only described him as a time bomb. He was mixture of pop rocks and baking soda just waiting to go off. Just trying to get his attention could make a man wind up in the Emergency Room, or worse, the morgue.

"But a few years ago, Barry had actually gotten on the guy's good side. As Rod Style's closest friend, Barry had salvaged the Vegas operation after Styles was arrested. Over a billion dollars of enterprise, and Barry handed it right into Kilroy's control. As such, Kilroy now considered him a 'friend'. Barry now had permission to use his name to vouch for him.

But the reason for Kilroy's notoriety was the risk that came with dropping his name. Using Kilroy as a reference was a life-or-death coin flip. If you didn't get results . . . if you failed in any way, you were a dead man. No, not just you . . . your entire family. Your friends. Your associates. Somebody who may have sat next to you on the subway one time. Basically, anyone and everyone you could ever give a shit about.

Long story short, Kilroy was the most dangerous man in America. The one guy you didn't dare piss off.

And this was the guy Sly Cat wanted to piss off?

Barry could only answer the question with a confident, upstart smirk. "Hell yeah, I'm interested."

***

"Let me hear you moan louder, Bitch," Barry growled. "Let me hear how a Slut likes feeling her brother in her ass."

"Oooooh, oh God yes," Imani sobbed. "Please Master, fuck my ass. Treat me like the dirty whore you tamed."

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled it back hard, barely avoiding tearing it from the root. Imani gasped in pain, but quickly growled with lust. She loved being treated like an animal . . . like a wild mare being conquered, raped and bred by her superior stallion.

"Oh yes! Please cum inside me, Master! Flood me with your manliness! Let me feel your White seed inside my Black pussy!"

He couldn't help himself. Whenever Imani knew he was close to cumming, she always hit him with the slurs and race stuff. He knew it was wrong, but that didn't stop him from enjoying it. Besides, Imani enjoyed it. She loved drawing connotations between their Master/Slave relationship and the harsh truths of the past.

"Aaarrgh! Oh God!" Barry gasped, throwing his head back and grasping both cheeks of her ass while he his cock pulsed and stream after stream of his cum entered her Black womb.

"Mmmm. Thank you, Master. I knew that would do the trick. It always does."

"Geez," Barry said, out of breath. "You know, I'm starting to think that . . . deep down . . . I might be a little bit racist."

"Mmmm. Who cares?" Imani chuckled, slowly using her pussy muscles to milk more cream from his cock. "My mother was a militant Black Muslim. Do you know how badly she would have killed me for saying what I say while fucking? Or even calling you 'Master' at all, if she were alive today?"

Barry rubbed his rough, manly hands across his sister's sweaty back. "So, do you think you say these things to get back at her?"

"Maybe. A little, I guess. But, talking about my Mom is . . . always a tender subject for me."

He nodded, respecting her wishes. ". . . So what do you think? About the Kilroy situation?"

"This is good for us, of course," she told him. "We've still got a while to go before we can move on Castiglione directly . . . at least with enough evidence to make sure that the charges stick . . . but if he's crazy enough to go after Kilroy, I'm almost positive he'll be desperate enough to do something dumb."

Barry nodded. "So the Bureau is happy with the news?"

"I wouldn't know yet," Imani told him. "Wilkes is the only one I'm in contact with. That makes it easier if the Bureau has to . . . you know . . ."

"If they have to pretend that you never existed."

Imani glanced shamefully away. "Y-Yeah . . ."

Barry embraced his sister and gently kissed her on the neck, reassuring her. At the same time, his hands cupped around her new, ripening belly.

"So, what is it this time?"

"A girl, Master," Imani told him proudly. "The Ultrasound identified that we're going to have another beautiful baby girl."

"God, I don't ever want any of this to end," Barry said, holding his sister's pregnant belly. "I've never been happier in all of my life

"Me neither, Master. And that's what really scares me."

******

TWO DAYS AGO

"MASTER, COME QUICK!"

The way Kitten screamed, Barry already knew something was terribly wrong. And the closer he got to the center room, the more his dread rose.

"What's going on?" He asked Elizabeth, the nearest passing Slut.

"I don't know, Master. But, they said it was something about the news. They said they were talking about us on the news!"

Hearing that, Barry stole past the rest of the men and women pouring into the center room. When he was noticed, everyone stepped aside to let him by so that he could reach his chair at the center of the room, right in front of the room, surrounded on all sides by his faithful Sluts.

His "throne" they called it.

When he'd finally managed to take his seat, Barry held up a hand to quiet everyone down, bringing the volume low enough that he could finally hear what was going on.

"—bring you this new development. Good afternoon, I'm Ann Sanderson, and with me today is attorney Peter MacAster. Peter, just what is it that brings you to MBC News today?"

MacAster appeared visibly flustered, his hands and fingers fidgeting like mice trapped in a burning cage. Sweat laminated the balding atop his head, provided both by the heat of the studio lamps . . .

"Well, Ann . . . I'm here today to make a grave confession . . . and bring to light several events which I've unfortunately been party to. I'm sure that what I'm about to say will reveal a good many sins . . . both mine and others . . . but I've come hoping to right my wrongs and hope that I may possibly be forgiven someday."

The hostess placed a gentle hand upon his.

"Mr. MacAster, if what you're going to reveal is as grave as you say, let me assure you that you're doing the right thing here today. I'm sure that the proper authorities will take into account how brave it was for you to come here today and speak with us on live television."

MacAster nodded, but hardly seemed reassured. Still, after drawing a deep breath, he continued unabated.

"As many of you may or may not know, I am the private attorney of one Dr. Barry Garrett—former owner of the adult media company, Stallion Productions, and current billionaire, philanthropist and sexual counselor. However, Dr. Garrett has some very dark skeletons in his closet. For example, right here, in the outskirts of LA, he has purchased several acres of land which is kept cut off from the outside world. There, Dr. Garrett has become 'King' his own private adolescent fantasy. He acquires women and trains them as his 'slaves', forcing them to do whatever sick and perverse acts he wishes for his sexual pleasure."

Suzanna glanced toward her husband, studying his features for any hint of reaction. But Barry was unflinching, unmoving with his eyes still focused on the television.

"That's . . . awful," Ann replied, aghast. "He holds these women against their will?"

"He indoctrinates them into some type of cult. Most women who arrive there think they've done so of their own free will—but once they've become involved, they find it more and more difficult to leave. Before any woman can join his harem, Mr. Garrett forces them to abandon their careers, their families, and whatever money they've acquired and bequeath it all to him and his estate. That leaves the poor souls with nowhere to go, other than to be his personal playthings."