Collection 4: Master of the World

In England, the royal family invited him to sit on the throne. He did so, enjoying a beer and one of London's hottest bitches.

In Rome, several of the best sluts of the city dressed in skimpy warrior outfits and acted out a battle in the Colosseum. Master enjoyed it and rewarded the winner with a rough fucking of her ass.

In Egypt, Master was treated to belly dancing from local whores under the starlight before the pyramids. They called him "Pharaoh" and he seemed to enjoy that.

In every city, a party of sluts was hosted on his behalf. He always got off on or in the locals, sometimes picking a favorite that would come home with him. The news followed him closely, showcasing his fucking, his whores, and his daily activities with awe.

At each destination, he met with political leaders and listened for a few minutes to summaries of their complex issues. He would normally ask the same question to start: "Who do you represent with this concern?" When the answer was corporations or a privileged few, Master almost immediately favored the other side, declaring the cause that best suited the common people. He explained to Brandi after the first visit, "I think that if people are honest about motivations, the best thing to do is very quickly apparent. And I can make them be honest, so I can make the right decision." He thought another moment and said, "Besides, this is my world. I can make it how I want it."

"Yes Master," Brandi said, continuing to jerk him off between her tits. He came over her and they went to the local home.

The "Master Homes" in each city was impressive. They blended comfortable with local architecture. The home in Egypt was air conditioned to meet the comfort level of the West and all the furnishings were remarkably comfortable, but it still was presented as an Egyptian home. Master didn't stay long in each city, but warmly thanked the people in each for their generosity. His approval was an obvious reward for the people, who talked of it nonstop for weeks afterwards.

Master continued to Russia (which provided an impressive collection of gorgeous fucktoys that Brandi did not expect from a country known to be cold), China (the forbidden city was filled with Chinese sluts for Master's amusement), and Japan (Master's home overlooked a beautiful mountain range, which he enjoyed with a Japanese girl sucked heartily before him). He stopped in Hawaii, where he decided to stay an extra day fucking beautiful bitches on the beach. Then he flew to California.

In Los Angeles, Master had arranged for a specific treat to himself. He went through the list of Hollywood A-listers, picked his favorites, and had Brandi arrange a party. The event was televised and watched from coast to coast. The arrival of Hollywood's most beautiful actresses was covered like a rewards show, with the women stepping out of limos and onto a red carpet, but instead of talking about their designer dresses, they were talking about their designer lingerie. They proudly displayed themselves for the camera, with very little skin hidden, and talked about how much they hoped Master fucked them. One actress had to be cut off by the host because her rant about all the dirty, vile things she wanted Master to do to her went on for ten minutes and they had other celebrities to cover.

No cameras were allowed inside the party, on Master's decree. Apparently he wanted to be the only one who got to see such a collection. As King of the World, it was his right to make such a decree. When his limo pulled up to the red carpet, the entire crowd went silent. Master stepped, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and still tan from Hawaii. Brandi followed, wearing only a diamond-encrusted collar, glass heels, and her tiara. There was the flashing of cameras, but the reporters didn't speak, for fear of missing anything that Master said.

Master waved to the cameras. He looked at them for a moment, then apparently had an idea. He turned to Brandi and leaned in for a kiss. His kiss was long, passionate, and his hands had no limits. For a while, he squeeze her tits and ass. He moved at one point to fingering her pussy, which was soaking and ready for him. He ended up with one hand on her tit and the other wrapped around her throat, gripping onto the diamond collar. Brandi's own hands massaged the hardness in his pants. Cameras flashed repeatedly.

Master broke the kiss and smiled at her. She smiled back with a sultry gaze.

"God, she's a nice fucking whore," Master told the cameras. "I hope these famous bitches can fuck half as good as her." Then he went into the room.

Master forbid the celebrities from telling the outside world who got fucked. He said they were famous enough and he didn't want to add bragging rights to anyone. He took his time, often pulling out of before a celebrity could suck him all the way off or before he blew his load inside them. He had obvious favorites, revisiting them frequently. With one actress, a Cuban actress who was the next girl in the upcoming James Bond movie, he couldn't help himself and she eager swallowed his cum while he held her head in place with a handful of her hair.

He ordered a movie to be put on while he got back in the mood and he watched an early release of an upcoming blockbuster. He enjoyed it and after it was done he got back to fucking the Hollywood whores. There was no bitch that he didn't stick somewhere (he had handpicked them all for a reason), but only two actually got swallow anything.

When he was finished, it was the middle of the night. He left the room and found the reporters still there, looking for news on which celebrity was the best whore. Master didn't specify. He simply smiled and said, "That was a lot of fun."

For months after, the tabloids theorized about what celebrities were fucked in which degrading way. Everyone had different opinions, but the girls were all silent—obedient little bitches for their Master.

When Master finally got home from his world-wide tour, he found his home decorated for the holidays. Christmas trees towered in the atrium areas, lights were everywhere, several large doors were decorated to look like ginger bread houses, and almost all the sluts were wearing Christmas-themed lingerie: skimpy elf costumes, red lace with white fuzzy trim, tiny bows instead of clothes... Master loved it all.

He also loved being home. Brandi found him the next day in one of the theater rooms, playing video games. The room was curiously absent of sluts and Master explained that he had sent them away for a while.

"Would you like me to go too?" Brandi asked.

"No, you can stay," Master said.

Through the speakers, someone with a nasally voice shouted, "Your mom's a whore!"

"You couldn't afford her if she was!" Master shouted back through the headset.

Brandi's eyes grew large. How dare someone speak to their King like that? Rage boiled up from inside her. Master cut his mic and said, "Don't worry, he doesn't know it's me. I like to play anonymously."

Brandi calmed herself as Master explained, "I like being King, but sometimes it's nice not to be. These guys don't let me win. In fact, I haven't played for a while, so they beat me pretty easily. But it's a fair game. If I win, it's because I actually won."

"You've won the other stuff in a fair game too," Brandi said softly. "Anyone else could have done what you did."

"Yeah, but I won once and that kinda just kept going," Master said. "It's just nice to lose sometimes. It's nice to just be me sometimes."

"Whatever you want," Brandi said.

Master gave her an odd look and said, "That's actually it though. You give me anything I want. And I love it. So much. But if I wasn't King and hadn't programmed you, you wouldn't give me anything. I get blown whenever I want right now, but if I hadn't programmed everyone, would I ever get any head?"

Brandi was silent. Was her Master unhappy? Had she been so blind as to not know? He saw the thought cross her face and intercepted it.

"I love my life, Brandi. So much. I guess I just like remembering what it was like before." On his video game, he suddenly died. Brandi didn't see what happened, but he muttered, "Sniper." He turned back to her and said, "I just like remembering what it was like."

Brandi thought for a little while, sitting on the couch next to him as he played. She looked down at herself, dressed in lingerie that she knew he loved. She had toned her body to his preferences. She knew how he liked her hair, her makeup. She knew how he liked her to talk to him, handle him... She was his creation.

"Master, may I... May I try something for you?" Her voice was hesitant. She normally knew how to please her Master, but that was apparently part of the problem. She had accommodated every whim, but now the whims were the normal. What if he wanted the normal?

Master looked at her curiously. "Sure," he said. "What do you have in mind?"

"Meet me in your bedroom? Twenty minutes?"

"Sure."

When he entered, Brandi was not wearing lingerie. She wore faded jeans that didn't fit her too well. She wore an old t-shirt. Her hair was a mess and her makeup wasn't done well. She had a pile of laundry on the bed and was folding it while watching a soap opera on the television.

"Hi honey," she said passively. "How was your trip?"

He looked at her, blinking a few times. He looked at the television, the laundry, and then again at her. Finally, he said, "Fine." He blinked again and said, "How was your day?"

"Long," Brandi said with a sigh. "Work was... well... I don't want to talk about it. By the way, we are almost out of chicken. We'll need to run to the store tonight."

"I was gonna play some games with the guys," he said, smiling softly.

"Well we need to go to the store," Brandi said. "Can't video games wait for an hour?"

"Fine," he said, stepping into the room. He reached for her, a tentative hand wrapping around her waist. His second hand on the other side was firmer.

"Hey sweetheart," he said softly. "You look beautiful."

"The fuck are you talking about?" Brandi scoffed. "I'm a mess. Can you put this in the dresser?" She pushed a folded shirt towards him. He took it and set it on top of his dresser. He turned back to her and put his hands on her again, firmer this time.

"I mean it," he said. "You look great."

"Well you have to say that," Brandi said, turning to face him. "You're my husband."

"Doesn't make it less true," he grinned, leaning in. She turned and his kiss landed on her cheek.

"What's gotten into you?" Brandi laughed.

"I missed you," he said. "A guy is allowed to miss his wife." He kissed her neck. Brandi leaned her head back and laughed.

"Stop that," she said without conviction. "I've got laundry to do."

"Laundry can wait," he said, kissing her again.

"We have to go to the store," she said, her voice softer and wispy.

"That can wait too," he said, kissing lower on her neck.

"You're the worst," Brandi said, lightly slapping him with the sock still in her hand.

"You love me," he laughed.

"Yes I do," Brandi said, running a hand up her husband's chest. They kissed. It was slow, tender. When he took her shirt off, he didn't find lace. He found a nude-color plain bra that didn't match her panties. When he went to stick it in her, she said, "Not yet, honey. Get me ready for it." He fingered her for a few minutes until she said, "Ok, I'm ready." He stuck it in and began to thrust. "Slower," she coached. "Get me there slow."

"Want this," Master said softly.

Brandi gasped and almost broke character, but kept it under wraps. "Slowly, baby," she said. "Get me there slow."

He obeyed. Their bodies were close and their kisses were passionate, but almost routine. Brandi's body ached, but she pushed down her desperate need and played the part.

"Right there," she said sharply. "Right there. Just like that. Yes!" He continued thrusting in that place, picking up speed.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Brandi cried out, letting loose on her orgasm. Nothing was faked as she tossed her hips and her body shook. When it was over, she slipped back into the part.

"Ok, honey," Brandi said. "Finish up now. Come on."

He continued to thrust in her until she heard the grunting noises that she knew so well. His body buckled a few times as he came inside her.

He collapsed on the bed next to her and the pile of laundry. He smiled.

"That was fun," Brandi said. She rubbed a tender finger along his harm, stroking him. "I love you honey."

"I love you too," her husband smiled. His smile widened and he repeated, "I love you so much."

They lay there, Brandi laying on her husband's chest for a few minutes. Finally, Brandi said, "I gotta pee." She stood and walked to the bathroom. She partially closed the door as she went and came back out after a minute, getting dressed again in the plain underwear, jeans, and t-shirt. "If you want, we can go to the store tomorrow. I can move my lunch meeting and we can go on break."

"Stop," Master said softly. "You can stop now."

Brandi stopped speaking. Her heart was racing.

"Did... did this make you happy?" she said softly.

"Yes, but not in the way you think," Master said, sitting up.

"Was it the t-shirt? Too unattractive? I didn't mean to nag you..."

"It made me happy that even after all these years, you are still looking for new ways to make me happy," Master explained. He looked at the laundry on the bed next to him. "Even if it's weirder and weirder kinks."

Brandi smiled and looked down at the ground. "I only want your happiness."

"Go back to my Queen of Whores," Master said with a smile as he climbed off the bed. He leaned down and kissed her lips one more time. "And don't worry about the store. We have bitches who can do that for you."

"Yes Master," Brandi grinned. Brandi redressed in the skimpy, slutty lingerie she was used to wearing. She did her makeup and her hair to look as fuckable as possible. Then, she adorned herself with the tiara.

When she presented herself before Master, he ordered her down on her knees while he played video games. She sucked him off like a whore and was happy to do so. After she swallowed, he told her that she had done a good job. He commanded her to want an orgasm—her second that day—and to go find a bitch to eat her out.

Brandi obeyed.

In the aftermath of the Hollywood party, Master got a taste for celebrity fucking. He commanded visits from several of his choices.

First, a country-turned-pop singer with blonde curls performed a concert at the palace before Master fucked her throat.

Next, Master had the Cuban actress who had swallowed at the party visit again. She stayed there most of a weekend and Master spent a portion of it with her in the sex dungeons.

The actress who had played "The Spider" in a populate superhero franchise (a spy-turned-hero in a team-up movie) was summoned. She arrived in the actual costume from the film—tight leather, zipper cleavage and all.

Master invited the British actress who had been the female lead of a very popular wizard franchise. He told Brandi that she was "Classy Hot" and he wanted to break her. He did, discarding her dignity with whips, ass fucking, and the endless slew of filthy self-degradation that she poured out in her British accent as she jerked Master off all over her body.

Singers, actresses, athletes, and even a female MMA fighter were summoned to please the King. All of them performed eagerly. Master rarely told the press or allowed the girls to disclose their visits. As much pleasure as he got watching a normal girl talk about her fabulous fucking experience in front of cameras, he didn't want rich, famous people to get more rich and famous just because he wanted to fuck them.

Brandi got a request for an audience with Master from a senate leader. Master had left the current government in place, of course, instead of actually trying to run everything himself. Even Brandi, who hadn't focused on anything but Master's happiness in years, recognized his name. It was rare for anyone to request time with Master.

Brandi tentatively asked Master what he wanted to with the request. He thought for moment and said, "Yeah, sure. Have him here." She relayed the message to the Senator and they set a time for the next day.

Brandi wanted to have the meeting in the palace's throne room, a lavish, towering room with an impressive throne at the head of it. It would remind the Senator who he was talking to. Master dismissed the idea quickly, telling Brandi to bring the Senator to one of the lounge areas in the palace. No need to frighten the man before they knew what he wanted.

When he arrived, the Senator was guided to a sizeable living room, with a half dozen couches, tall tables with stools, and a built-in bar. It was a comfortable space commonly used for Master's poker games.

Master entered, followed by eight sluts in skimpy, expensive lingerie. All of them wore thick collars—a sign of favoritism from Master that all the bitches were programmed to crave. The girls stood at attention near the door and Master left them behind as he welcomed the Senator warmly. The Senator was very respectful, bowing low before the King and thanking him repeatedly for seeing him.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Master asked. "The girls can fetch you a drink if you want."

"No, no," the Senator said quickly. "I know how busy you must be and I don't mean to take much of your time."

"Then why don't you tell me what brought you here?"

The Senator spoke quickly about his plan. He was good at presenting it clearly and simply, although Brandi and Master both knew that there was likely more complicated matters behind it. Effectively, Master could lift sanctions against an oil-rich country that was not being traded with at the moment. Master's word would override the congressional stalemate and lead to an influx of cheap oil.

The Senator ended with, "...and, of course, we would graciously thank you for you involvement in this."

Master blinked and smiled, but Brandi did not see joy in his eyes. "Thank me?"

"Yes, of course," the Senator nodded vigorously. "There are many millions of dollars at play here. However much you desire, just say the word."

"How is that different from right now?" Master asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"What's stopping me from going to the bank right now and telling them all the money in their vault belongs to me and I want it in cash? Or, for that matter, do I look like I need money?"

"Of course not," the Senator said. "I... whatever we can do to thank you for your assistance, it's yours."

Master turned and pointed at one of the collared bitches by the door—a girl with curly black hair and significant tits. She was wearing a black miniskirt, black heels, and a black lace bra. He snapped his fingers and pointed at his crotch. The girl hurried over and knelt in front of him. She unbuckled him and began to suck. She did her best to minimize any noise, so as to not distract from the conversation.

"Do I look like I need anything from you?" Master asked, rubbing his hand through the girl's curly black hair and pushing her head down farther on him. She complied eagerly.

"Of course not," the Senator backpedaled quickly. "I did not mean to offer you, Master. I was only..."

"You were trying to bribe me," Master said simply. "Like you would bribe anyone else when you try to make money for yourself. But you can't, because you have nothing to offer me. You have literally nothing that I want." To drive home his point, he grabbed a fist full of the curly hair and began to set the rhythm himself, bobbing the girls head up and down on his dick.

"That's why I am the best King this world will ever see," Master said. "Because I do what I want. And I make decisions as I want. And I don't need to trade for sex, money, or anything. It's just mine. So I'm free of conflicts of interest. I'm incorruptible."