Extraordinary Talent Pt. 04

I began by pointing out to her that, although I certainly enjoyed "dining at the Y," after about 80 such meals in the course of the past year it was her turn to be on her knees providing oral sex. Before I could blink, she had folded herself between my legs, licking and sucking with apparent relish. She rarely had to swallow my jism on these expeditions, since I preferred to save my climaxes for more strenuous (and mutual) couplings, but the sight of her smiling up at me with a mouthful of cock was fantastic.

The first two times (including what I just recounted) that we had "normal" sex together, Theresa was the aggressor, riding astride me. Again, the vision of her smiling face, her beautiful body pumping on me as if I were her horse, was magnificent, but I still hankered for other, more equal, forms of fucking. The third time, I rolled her over so that I was on top and pinned her hands to the bed while we enjoyed screwing and touching each other fully. Her only comment was "what took you so long?"

After two and a half years of my contract, Terri decided to "remind me of my place" and reinforce her father's sense of my subordination by giving me an unusual Christmas present: a new slave collar with a personalized tag that read "Slave Matt; property of Ms. Theresa Thornton" with her telephone number. This stung me at the time, since it reminded me (and her father, who was present when I unwrapped it) that I was technically no more than her property. On reflection, however, I realized that she was right—we had probably been too friendly in front of Mr. Thornton, so it was again time to cool it.

Not to be outdone, I escalated our game on the following Valentine's Day, when I gave HER a slave collar, similarly personalized with the label "Slut Terri—return to her Master, Matthew Hewitt." Fortunately, she laughed and immediately asked me to put it on her, after which we role-played being two slaves in my cage, where we made fantastic love and cuddled together.

For the rest of our school years, she periodically played slave again, and seemed to enjoy it a great deal. We could only do it behind locked doors, and I was careful to respect her as a person: we only played when SHE brought out the collar; unlike me, she had a safe word to halt anything she didn't want; and (other than playful spanks) I never inflicting any pain on her. Still, once she decided to play, I got to call the shots, including collaring her, installing a well-lubed butt plug, ordering her through slave yoga poses, and making HER lie across MY lap while I fondled and stroked her soft-as-silk ass.

One time when she wore that collar, I turned the tables on her completely, ordering her to "spread" facing upwards in the cage. Then, as she had done to me several times, I used zip ties to restrain her ankles and wrists to the walls of the cage. After that, I crawled inside to fondle, tease, and finally shaft her helpless body, being careful that she reached several orgasms before I released into my condom. When we showered afterwards, she told me she really wanted that scene to happen again—and proved it by kneeling under the spray to blow me yet again.

All this was a lot of fun in its own right—what guy wouldn't like to have a sexy woman who allows him to play with her body like that? It also provided some kind of mental balance for the rest of the time, where I remained her docile pet/servant including, yet again, frequent sessions with my tongue on her labia and clit.

As for our unspoken domination competition, Terri clearly won, if only because I didn't want to hurt her physically or risk our relationship. Hence, for example, I never put anything other than a small plug in her rectum, preferring to mate with her the "old fashioned way." I'm sure she would have allowed me to take her there, with either a vibrator or my cock, but I left it as is.

*****

Re-reading the past few paragraphs, it sounds as if we had a non-stop orgy for three years. Would that it were so! Instead, we continued to study and practice our new profession as much as 90 hours per week. As I said, during the school term we were celibate and focused on engineering for six and a half-days out of seven. The remaining time, usually on a Friday or Saturday evening, was often a repeat of our previous relationship, with me on my knees providing her some oral stress relief. Only very rarely—perhaps once a month and sometimes less—did we lock the doors and spend an evening as lovers or role-playing that she was my sex slave. For reasons of secrecy, we had even less contact with each other when we were staying at her father's mansion for holidays or internships. So, contrary to appearances, we were not conducting some marathon sex session. I doubt if we got together 60 times over the next three years.

ll this time we never talked about our long-term prospects—were we lovers or friends with benefits or just temporary fuck-buddies? Terri kept saying we needed to wait until graduation, when I was again free, before we talked about any future together. Not only would her dad go ballistic if we reached any conclusion, but legally I was not free to make any long-term commitments until my contract expired. In the meantime, we remained incredibly close in and outside the bedroom. I can't tell you how many times I had to bite my (often tired) tongue to avoid saying the "L" word, and I occasionally caught her looking at me in a very loving manner.

*****

Our final internship, in the fall of our fifth year, was even more stressful. Each of us had to design his/her own engineering project, which meant that for a change we couldn't work together. To avoid any appearance of favoritism, Dean Hardiman had talked with Mr. Thornton, who arranged for me to work on a project in HIS home office while Theresa interned at a rival company, Lone Star Resources. (I'd be interested to see how they arranged the non-disclosure rights for her project, since everyone expected that, nine months later, she would be working in Thornton's empire, perhaps in competition to Lone Star!) So the two of us spent our usual marathon work weeks in different locations, and I noticed that Hans sent a security guard to accompany Terri to work because she stayed late so often. On the rare evenings when Terri and I were awake and in her suite at the same time, we proof-read and murder-boarded each other's projects, leaving little time for sleep and NONE for intimacy—not even my "Extraordinary Talent."

After both of our projects got accepted, we returned to Colorado for our final term as undergrads. OK, I'll admit it—we DID make up for some lost time in the bedroom. I don't know which was more satisfying, fucking each other's brains out or snuggling with her in between bouts of passion.

The long-awaited end of my personal services contract fell in the middle of final exams; at some point, I would have to consult with Dr. Nikki and close out the FINO arrangement, but there was no time to worry about that right now, let alone time for a serious discussion with Terri. I also received an employment offer to start work for Thornton a month later at an annual salary in six figures, but I couldn't act on that until I knew where I stood with the daughter.

Somehow, Terri and I survived again, and graduated on schedule. Three guesses who received an honorary degree and was the commencement speaker—William Thornton, of course.

Then came my long-deferred discussion with her, a discussion that went terribly wrong. Smiling a mile wide, she nudged me as we waited in line after the ceremony to turn in our rented academic robes. "Glad that's over! Now, Mister Matthew Hewitt, Bachelor of Petroleum Engineering, I don't intend to let you get away just because your time has expired. How about another contract, this time for five years as my FINO?"

Of all the outcomes I had imagined for our bizarre affair, re-enslaving myself to her had never entered my mind. I wanted to marry her tomorrow, I would settle for an on-going friendship (with benefits, if possible), but resetting the clock back to slavery? That had no future.

She must have seen my sadness, but mis-interpreted it as rejection. "You don't want to be with me? But, I thought . . ." and then her face crumpled and she ran off. One more time, I picked up after her, turning in my robe along with hers. Then I hurried to find her, arriving just in time to see her father help her, still sobbing, into a car. After he closed the door he walked over to me, but his face showed no signs of anger. Instead, he seemed slightly amused.

"So you turned her down for another FINO contract?" I nodded, not sure where I stood with him. "Good! I told her you wouldn't go for that. Her reaction tells me that you two were a lot closer than you let on, am I right?"

"Umm, yessir." I replied, acutely aware that he was both a powerful man and my potential employer. "You knew how I felt four years ago, so I hope you're not too displeased?"

"Absolutely not—I'm glad you've somehow become essential to my daughter's happiness—took her long enough; I blame her mother for that stubbornness." Mr. Thornton realized that I was as stressed out as Terri, so he put me out of my misery. "Don't worry, Matt. Your job is safe, and I think when she calms down she'll be willing to talk about the future. Tell you what—it will take her half an hour to pack some clothes and get out of the apartment, then I'm flying her home. The packers are coming to the apartment tomorrow, so why don't you pack your stuff into her car and drive it down to see us. Call me when you reach Houston, OK?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

*****

Two days later, having put up at a cheap motel and taken a shower, I knocked on the door of the Thornton home. The boss had briefed Ralph, the butler, who let me in and told me that "Mizz Theresa" has been mopping around the house, obviously upset, ever since she came home from college. There was no answer when Ralph knocked on the door of her suite, so I used my key and went in to find her lying on the bed, not even looking to see who had entered.

I didn't have much to lose, so I decided to take the offensive. "You know, if we're going to have any kind of relationship, you're going to have to learn to listen to me instead of going off in a huff."

Terri startled at the sound of my voice, but then tried to assume a look of disdain when she rolled over. "What makes you think I want to hear what you have to say?"

"Well—you asked me if I wanted to sign another FINO contract, and didn't wait for the answer. The problem is, you asked me the wrong question."

I could tell she was hopeful, but didn't want to appear eager. "So, what should I have asked?"

"Let me put it this way, Darling—I don't want to be your FINO, but I do want to make three agreements with you. For the first one, I'm going to get down on one knee—you better enjoy this, because it's the last time I intend to kneel to you!"

"You mean . . ."

"Yup. Theresa Thornton, would you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Let's leave out the next five minutes, which we spent frantically necking and hugging until I pulled out the modest engagement ring I had bought for her on the way down. Then more necking after she tried it on.

After some spontaneous make-up sex, she remembered what I'd said, and asked, "OK, besides marriage, what were the other two agreements you wanted?"

I grinned. "Well, first we need a pre-nup agreement excluding our incomes and property from any marriage settlement. Not only would your dad expect that, but I want everyone, including you, to know that I'm not marrying you for your money."

Her habitual smirk had returned. "Oh, yeah, then what DO you want to marry me for?"

"Your body, of course. The fact that you had to ask that shows that your mind is slipping! And speaking of your body leads me to the third agreement."

"Which is?" she demanded.

"ALMOST the same question you asked me after graduation. Will YOU sign a 5 year contract to be MY FINO, one day a week? I'll pay you ten dollars a month, and I won't even make you sleep in the cage; instead, I'll keep you in bed with me, but you may have to be cuffed."

"Deal."

*****

We got married a month later, and by then both of us were bowlegged from our frequent coupling. I'll spare you the details of the wedding, except to say that Butch, Nikki Sheldon's four-year-old son, did a great job as the ring bearer. Dean Hardiman and Terri's father were both grinning as if they were responsible for the match—which in some sense I guess they were. I was distracted during my duty dance with Terri's Aunt Elena, trying to avoid stepping on her feet, but she said something about Theresa's mom smiling down on us from heaven. I know I sound like a wannabe to say it this way, but Texans be crazy, using slavery to find love.

What I WILL tell you, in slightly more detail, is what happened the day after the wedding. The wedding had been on a Saturday, which meant that it was Sunday afternoon when Terri and I arrived in the empty Longhorn parking lot, parking as close to the main entrance as possible. That was by design—she insisted that she had to undergo the same embarrassment that she'd put me through 49 months earlier, but I wanted to avoid any paparazzi photographs of my nearly-famous wife when she was slave naked on a leash! Which she was within two minutes of stepping out of the car. I took the opportunity to feel her up when I hugged her, then calmly instructed her to "Heel, slut," patted her beautiful butt, and led her inside.

She was prepared to meet Nikki Sheldon and several wranglers (including Florence, the woman who had in-processed me four years earlier, whom I had requested by name), but she turned 17 shades of pink when she realized that her father was also looking at her naked, collared, and bound body. He acted as if this was a normal situation, and perhaps he was right, given that Theresa's mom had started out as a slave consort for him 20-odd years earlier. Once she read, initialled, and signed her personal services contract, his daughter had to kneel for the Longhorn collar. At that point, he patted her head, shook my hand, and left, still smiling.

The week before, I had insisted that Terri practice nude for her block positions (aka Slave Yoga), so she was graceful and sexy as hell on the practice platform that afternoon. She obviously was as turned on posing and announcing slave mantras as I was watching her. By the end of this practice, her nipples were on high beam and she was damp down below. Because her original slave grading photos were now more than five years old, Theresa had to pose for the usual standing (Present), kneeling, and rear view photos—and I took the opportunity to snap my own versions of those photos. If she weren't my wife, I could have marketed those images to horny young guys, but as it was I couldn't even use them as a screen-saver! Well, maybe on my home computer. . .

There were some differences between her processing and mine. When the vet had her restained on the GYN bondage wrack, Florence wanted me to insert a small plug into her rear, but I insisted on a larger size—Terri handled it just fine, but let out a tiny "eep" when I pushed it into her. I also refused to use a strap on my slave wife's butt, saying that I didn't want any bruises that would interfere with my using her that night. Terri blushed again and Flo chuckled. Instead, once I had her bent over my lap, I spanked her just enough to make her rear cheeks as pink as her face, then toyed with her plug and threatened to sodomize her in the near future.

Of course, the highlight for me was the oral instruction, watching my wife, rather than me, licking Florence and then having her service my cock. As I've said before, I often saved my erection for other activities, but this time, at Florence's instructions, I walked her gently through the entire procedure, including holding my jism on her tongue and displaying it before I approved her swallowing it. At least I brought her a sample bottle of mouthwash to rinse out afterwards. And then, on the way back out to the lobby, I finally got to cup MY hand around HER naked ass, as she had done to me several times. The whole experience obviously aroused her—when she was dressed and we had returned home, she practically ran into her suite, where I found her kneeling and begging me to "Please, fuck my slave brains out, Master." I could get used to coming home to that every day!

*****

Of course, that's not what happened every day. Outside the bedroom, Theresa was no more submissive than was I, although we certainly enjoyed out games when we were alone. Moreover, after a two-week honeymoon, we both began to work long hours for Thornton Enterprises. Occasionally for me, and quite frequently for Terri, this work involved travel. After four years living together almost 24/7 as students and occasionally lovers, each of us experiences a flash of disappointment whenever we enter her suite only to find the other gone.

We try to conceal our relationship at work, so that only a few people in Human Resources or her father's private office knew we were married. Every morning, she ritualistically shifts her wedding rings from left hand to right as a bodyguard drives her to work while I made my own way there. We barely see each other; I'm working in the same group where I had performed my senior project, while Terri is a vice president, board member (by virtue of her own stock), and heir(ess) apparent. Her dad said he didn't know how much time he had left, so she is drinking from a firehose.

My life is somewhat easier than it had been as an undergraduate, but hers is even more demanding. In a male-dominated field, too many people assume that she is an empty-headed bimbo rather than an intelligent and qualified engineer. That means that I have no idea how she'll feel when she gets home at night. Some nights she wants to be left alone, while other times she wants to complain about the pig-headed, arrogant, expletive-deleted men she dealt with every day. (Occasionally, she transfers her frustration onto me, and I have to remind her that I'm on her side.) Frequently, Terri just wants to cuddle or watch something mindless on TV. And a few marvelous times she has come home determined to make love to me all night!

In our copious free time (joke), we also have to study together for our P.E. (Professional Engineer) exams. I don't know if her dad would approve of my motivational techniques—we bet on who scored better on the practice problems, and the loser has to service the winner orally. I've promised her that, if she passes the P.E. the first time, we'll take a week off and she can collar me like she did in school.

On those occasions when we're both in town on a Saturday night, however, things are different. Right now, for example, I've got to quit writing. On instructions from her master, a voluptuous, black-haired slut has given herself an enema and then installed a rather large plug to keep herself stretched down there. She's kneeling beside me in the Expose position, hands behind her neck, waiting for me to take her to bed and plow all three of her openings. We're both looking forward to it.

(The end)