He Subjugates Deanna Again

"Sshhh, baby, ssshhh. I know it feels good. My cool hands on your giant hot titties. Oh look, sweetie, I'm milking you. Milking you like an animal with all these people around. You're my mommy animal and your milk is squirting out.

"That's it, baby, grind your pussy against my knee....I know...it feels so good. Oh my goodness, sweetie, do you want a kiss. Well...okay, but just a little one...and then we must get back to the party."

Miss Millie felt Deanna's warm, wet, sweet lips make contact with hers, and she leisurely explored the young mother's mouth with her tongue. Even though she had just come on Bobby's face, the horny, dominating, old woman was wet and needed to cum again. She pulled her mouth away, and began to rub her milk coated hands on Deanna's lips. When Dougie's wife tried to suck the old woman's fingers into her mouth, Miss Millie walked away.

Deanna couldn't believe what had just happened. Jesus Christ and in a room full of people. She was a lot further gone than she realized.

No women, and not many men, had ever touched her like that. And only one man had ever established enough power over her to work her in a place as public as this. Deanna shuddered. She squeezed her eyes shut tight to try to block out the images of what Mr. Newell had done to her. How many times had she masturbated just thinking about some of the worst? Please, God, never again.

Deanna struggled to pull herself together. She took several deep breaths to clear the sexual cloud. When she was feeling a little more composed, she turned back to the party and it was then that her world came crashing down.

Bob Newell, wearing the outfit he had worn on their first date, was standing not more than 20 feet from her, and she wondered what he had seen. Bob was letting his eyes wander up and down her like a Manhattan construction worker and was showing that smirky little grin of his.

She suddenly felt self conscious about the very short skirt and very low-cut tank, and the silky, golden skin they didn't cover. Not to mention the milk stains on her top that the jacket just barely hid. Her high heels did wonderful things to her leg muscles, and she knew that her bunched calves and incredible thighs were completely naked to his gaze. She realized that, while more expensive, this outfit was not much different than the one's Bob had made her wear.

She really wanted to turn and walk away, but she was unable to move. Her heart began to pound as he walked toward her. Her mind was spinning out of control, and her nipples and clit were throbbing. But she was determined to fight his power over her. At the very least, for God's sake, she could struggle a little. If not for herself, then for Natalie.

If only she had not worked herself up in front of the mirror. If only she had not consumed so much of the punch. If only Millie and her wonderfully cool, strong hands and knee had not worked on her. If only she had left a little earlier for the restaurant. If only she had not pursued the son of a bitch in the first place. Too late now.

"Hello, Mrs. Stiles. How have you been?"

"Just fine, Bo...Mr. Newell...And...you...how are...you?" Deanna was panting with sexual desire and she was sure Bob knew it. He knew her needs well before, and she had to believe he hadn't forgotten.

"Prospering. Thanks. What do you think of the old gym?"

"It's beautiful. The new...owners...really have done...a...ah a marvelous job."

Deanna was praying that he would let her leave. She was hoping he would allow her to exit the building, get in her car, and go to meet her husband.

If only she could take her eyes off of his huge, throbbing cock. If only she could stop squeezing her legs together. If only she could stop rubbing her breasts.

"It wasn't the new owners really. I didn't sell them the building, just the business. My construction company did the renovation, following the plans I drew up.

"Now they have all the headaches and I have all the money."

Deanna had always been mesmerized by his soft, low voice. She struggled to say something, but she couldn't get her mouth around any words.

"You've changed, Mrs. Stiles. You seem much more confident. Much more sure of yourself. I like that."

What could she say to make him stop sexing her up? She focused, using all her willpower and actually managed to begin an intelligent conversation.

"Mr. Newell, I'm happier than...I've ever been. I have...a...baby. Dougie's business...is booming, and I'm...in charge of...of the foundation."

"Yes, I know. And you're enjoying your work with the chamber too."

A synapse fired in the beautiful young wife's brain. He knew. This meant he was still collecting information about her. Information had played a major role in her downfall the first time he entered her life. Her pussy started to flood

"Mr. Newell, I really...ah...I...must...well...ah... go, Dougie and I..."

"...are having a romantic dinner at Tierra Verde. I know." Bob finished the sentence for her.

And in so doing, he had gut punched her. More synapses fired. Changes were taking place in her brain. The old fear, the overpowering sense of being subjugated, was back. But, by God, she'd try to fight through this.

"I don't suppose you have the guts to come up to my office, do you?" Reverse psychology always worked before.

His office was where he had patiently broken her down. It was where she had become his little tramp. It's where she had discovered the biggest cock she had ever seen, and it's where he had turned her own mind and body against her. It was a day she could never forget. Actually it was all day and half of the night. And it happened after just one date.

Deanna tried to speak, but her mouth moved silently.

"Stop that, it's making me hot," he said referring to her open mouth. Deanna knew what he meant. She licked her lips involuntarily and shuddered.

"We probably shouldn't," he said. "It's a long drive into the city. You should leave now."

Deanna felt a crushing disappointment.

"We...can...ah...go to...aaawwwggodd...your office, Bob. I...have...ah I...can...take the...time."

He reached out and squeezed her nipples very hard. "It's Mr. Newell, you tramp." Dougie's wife's knees buckled.

"Let me carry your jacket," he demanded.

Bob slid his hand down the back of her skirt and guided her through the crowd. Deanna didn't want to look at anybody because she was so embarrassed. Her breasts were leaking continuously now and had completely soaked her top, and Mr. Newell's hand burned the flesh of her ass as he moved her through the crowd. She kept her face down, but people could see what was happening, and to who. Miss Millie saw Bobby walking Deanna away and smiled.

Mr. Newell unlocked the door to the back staircase. His office was the only space on the second floor, and only he and Miss Millie, of course, had a key. He motioned Deanna in first, and watched her sweet ass move under her skirt as she ascended the stairs. She knew he was studying her bare legs and tight round ass, so she spread her legs and stepped awkwardly to give him a better look.

"Jesus, Mrs. Stiles, that baby added inches to your hips, and it appears, some pounds to your ass too. Maybe you should wear panties to help hold everything in."

More synapses fired in her brain. Why did Mr. Newell have to hurt her feelings all the time? Why did hurtful things like this turn her on?

In spite of his harsh words, however, she made no attempt to hide anything from him.

When they arrived at the top of the stairs, Deanna was panting loudly. She couldn't imagine how she must have looked as she walked up the steps, her legs flexing, her butt cheeks clenching and unclenching. What would she have done if he had reached out and touched her naked cunt? The image of his hand in her again made her groan. And she was afraid he knew what she was thinking.

The room was exactly the same. Not one stick of furniture, not one piece of art had been changed. The large, well appointed office even smelled the same.

Memories washed over her. Visions of her naked and on display, visions of her on her knees worshipping his huge cock, visions of her trying so hard to please but never quite succeeding, all came flooding back. The learnings of a year of counseling had gone right out the window,

The helpless, unworthy feeling was overpowering, and she knew her body was being controlled by it. She could feel her breasts and nipples swelling. She could feel her pussy seeping juice, and her clitoris growing and throbbing. Her mouth was beginning to water. Why, dear Lord, did his humiliating remarks affect her this way?

"What do you think, Mrs. Stiles."

"It...ah...it...looks the same, Mr. Newell," Deanna said softly, now completely subservient. Her voice gave everything away. His little mouse had re-entered the trap.

"Mrs. Stiles, if you have the time, let's go back down the steps and walk up again. This time more slowly."

Deanna's knees buckled again. Of course he knew what she was thinking and he was going to use her mind against her.

"OhhhhmyyyGodddd Mr. Newell. What are you doing to me? You just love to humiliate me, don't you? I'm a mother now, but you won't respect that, will you? You'll probably make me hold my skirt up so you can see inside me better. So you can see if you're making me wet."

She was already heading for the steps when he said, "Of course."

At the bottom they paused. Deanna, her huge breasts heaving with excitement, lifted her skirt to her waist and let him look at her exposed, swollen pussy and golden, shapely legs. The beautiful young mother's face reddened when she realized that the skirt thing was her idea. Mr. Newell had never told her to do it! He had broken her down and was working her, and she was a willing assistant in her own seduction.

She started up the steps slowly, and Bob put his hand on her ass so that he could feel the butt muscles work.

Halfway up he began to finger her sweet, juicy cunt and puckered asshole.

"Slowly, Mrs. Styles, step up very slowly."

Her ass cheeks were working around his finger now because he had shoved it all the way in. No one but Mr. Newell had ever claimed her asshole and she had forgotten how good it felt. She wanted to walk these steps forever. She had no secrets from him, so she felt comfortable moaning with need.

"One thing is different up here, Deanna. I've been training hard for a tournament, and I don't think you've ever seen me look quite this good."

As he talked, Bob was slowly stripping off the blazer, crisp white shirt and beautifully tailored slacks. His body was ripped, muscles defined, and, yes, he was right, she had never seen him look this good.

Deanna was having trouble breathing and her brain had moved to that place in the past. Oh God help me, she prayed, but she just couldn't take her eyes off of him as he stripped completely naked.

He had removed his pubic hair entirely, actually Miss Millie had, and it made the incredible cock look even bigger than it did before. His large nipples looked bigger too. He slowly backed into the edge of his desk, spread his legs, and let her stare.

"You really should leave now, Mrs. Stiles. You shouldn't be late. You don't want to waste time touching my big, hard dick, do you?"

His hot, huge cock was pulsing with each beat of his heart, and looked for all the world like it was beckoning her to come closer.

"Oh God please, Mr. Newell...I...have...time. Please...let...me touch...your in...incred...incredible cock."

She walked toward him, almost in tears, her cunt and asshole still burning from his touch.

Bob couldn't believe how quickly he had taken control of her. He thought the counseling would have made her a harder target, but he was beginning to think that abused women seek out controlling men over and over again. The truth of the matter was that he wanted her to fight it a little. It made breaking a woman down so much more exciting. But obviously Deanna wanted to be subjugated quickly.

She wrapped both of her small hands and manicured fingers around his hot, throbbing cock. She stroked him, knowing that his pre-cum was going to seep onto her skirt, but she didn't care.

"You really shouldn't be handling my cock, Mrs. Stiles. You're a married woman with a new baby. You've had counseling. You're making a new start. It just doesn't seem right. Surely you don't want me to control you like I did before."

As he spoke he reached for her head and guided her mouth to a very large, very hard nipple. She opened her mouth to suckle him and a loud moan escaped her lips.

He let her nurse and stroke his cock for awhile, then he unbuttoned her skirt and pushed it down her beautifully muscled legs. He roughly dragged the tank top over her head, mussing her beautifully coiffed hair.

She was now completely bare naked and her feeling of submission was complete. She could feel the giant head of his cock brushing against her naked, heaving belly and her mouth watered as she went back to sucking his nipples.

"Mrs. Stiles, I know you're not going to drop to your knees to taste my cock. What with you being a new woman and all. Remember when you told me you'd never be on your knees for me again? I know you wouldn't like it down there.

"Well, my goodness, I guess you do like it. I guess you need to be down there. All that counseling and all this time, and you're right back were you started.

"I wonder what Dougie would say if he could see his pudgy, little, tramp wife, her special dinner outfit all crumpled up on the floor, with a strange man's cock in her nasty mouth.

"What would he think if he could see Natalie's mother slurping and moaning as she was eating a strange man's huge dick?"

Deanna was gagging herself on the incredibly thick piece of hot meat as she tried to fit it all into her mouth and throat. She wanted to save a little bit of her pride and not give up.

Her nipples were dripping warm, sweet milk, her pussy was churning out copious amounts of cunt cream, and her mouth was filled with her own saliva and Mr. Newell's wonderful pre-cum, as she did her best to please him.

She was embarrassed that she had become a humiliated, juicy, creamy mess right before his eyes. Mr. Newell was right. She liked to be on her knees for him. More than that, she needed to be on her knees. She needed to be controlled. She really was a dirty little tramp.

"You know, Mrs. Stiles, I really don't like what you've done to your hair. I like it shorter and darker brown, kind of mousey.

"And what is this French manicure shit on your fingers and toes? You'll be going back to bright red tomorrow."

His words attacked her senses, and she groaned as they struck deep in her brain. Bob Newell was an expert at working women, breaking them down, and he was doing a masterful job on the beautiful Mrs. Stiles. As her body dripped and her hot mouth sucked on his cock, Bob got a long, fat Cuban out of the humidor on his desk and lit up. He inhaled the first draw, savoring the sweet smoke, and the kick to his lungs.

Slowly he turned around.

Deanna groaned. "I suppose...you're going to make me...suck your asshole now... aren't you? You don't care...that I'm a...married woman. Or...a...new mother. Or that I'm...respected around town. You... just... want to...humiliate me. You...just want...want me to...tongue fuck your...ass...like I used...to." She was panting so hard she could scarcely talk. "Oh God...please. Mr. Newell...let me...let...me...worship you...back here!"

He thought it was a great idea and appropriate that the new mother he was subjugating should eat his ass as he enjoyed this fine cigar. He spread his legs wide and leaned over his desk. Mrs. Stiles immediately began to suck his hole. Her moans were even louder now.

The urgency he felt in his huge nut sack, however, demanded that he not finish his cigar. It was time to get that hot, wet, sweet pussy on his dick where it belonged.

"Let's go to the couch, Mrs. Stiles." Bob led the way and Dougie's beautiful, young wife crawled behind him, still trying to worship his heavily muscled, perfect round ass.

He sat on the couch and she straddled the hard, throbbing hunk of man meat. He was so big that just getting the head past her swollen, bright pink pussy lips made her sweat. Once it was inside, Deanna lowered her cunt, working hard to make it swallow him completely.

She was now fully impaled, and squatted, remaining perfectly still on top of him. Mr. Newell would allow her to fuck his cock if and when it pleased him. As he had explained on that first day several years ago, if no one was moving and no one was cumming, then it wasn't fucking. And if they weren't fucking, she wasn't cheating. Finally, though, she had begged him to let her cheat on Dougie, and she knew she would beg again.

Deanna was panting loudly now, her chest and belly heaving with need. She was so hot that she thought she was going to lose her mind. She didn't really understand how the humiliation and subjugation made it all seem so much better, but it did.

Her huge breasts were straining, heavy with milk, and her pussy was flooding as it lubricated itself. She had forgotten how good it felt to be filled to capacity and beyond. Mr. Newell's cock throbbed with each beat of his heart, and Deanna felt like crying.

She had been mean to him, disrespectful, and yet he was spending his valuable time with her. He was such a good man to point out her faults, and suggest ways that she needed to change. This was a relief, really. She had been gone a long time, but she was finally coming home.

"Dee," Mr. Newell said, using a pet name from better times long ago, "I have a present for you."

Mrs. Stiles opened her wanton green eyes and looked at him. They teared up. Why was he so good to her?

Bob slid his hand under a cushion on the couch and brought out a pager and cell phone. Both were an old style because they were exactly the same electronic gadgets that he had used to control her the first time they had a relationship. It didn't dawn on Deanna that this was proof that her being up here was part of an elaborate plan.

He put one in each of her hands and gave her permission to move just a little. She began to slide her cunt up and down his giant pole setting a torturously slow pace He hadn't given her permission to cum, and she always came so quick for him. She had to go slow and be careful.

"Remember these?" Deanna nodded her head in the affirmative. They felt so natural in her hands. He had called her and paged her many times each hour when they were apart during their first relationship. Because he loved her. He still loved her. The beautiful young wife moaned.

"I know you do, baby, I know you remember. And remember how I would send you messages, ordering you to do things, or page you to call me? And remember that you always called in under the one-minute deadline we agreed upon?

"I think we'll change that now. Let's make it 45 seconds. Does that sound good to you?"

"Yes...dear God yes...anything you say...Mr. Newell ...anything... you... want!"

Deanna was frantic with need. She was fucking up and down on his cock still with that slow and torturous pace. Her face was twisted in sexual pain, and she sucked air in loudly through her open mouth.

"Good girl. That's a good pace. I know your leg muscles are sore, but you keep going just like that. God knows you need the exercise.

"What do you weigh, Mrs. Stiles?"

Christ, she wasn't sure she'd even get her name right under the circumstances. What was he asking?

"Your weight, Mrs. Stiles. How fat are you?"

She groaned out the answer. "One fifteen...I think...aaaawwwwgod. Yes, I weigh...one...fifteen."

"We're going to get you down to 98 pounds, Mrs. Stiles. Remember how I like to see your ribs and pelvic girdle pushing against your skin? And remember how sexy you look laying on your back, with your stomach all sunken in.