Mrs. Yates' Trek

"Give him everything, little slave, he's going to take it anyway!"

My mind reacted to one of the truest statements I had ever heard. I was on the surprisingly soft carpet. The Master divested himself of his clothes. He looked nothing like my Hamilton. Where my man was thin and smooth, he was broad and hairy. Muscles stood out on his arms and belly. His manhood... more than I was familiar with as a wife.

The Mrs. undressed as well. Minus her scanties, she was quite fine. My head was cradled in her naked lap. She planted a kiss on my forehead and smiled at me.

"Relax, little slave, relax."

The Master reared up and entered me, filling me to overflowing. He did what Hamilton did, but what a difference! He was kissing me. She was kissing me, and the pumping continued. She traced gentle patterns n my flesh, he purred like a lion; the pumping continued. My body shuddered and I cried out as he emptied himself deep inside my womb. The room spun. I was dead to the world.

**

I awoke naked between the sheets of a very large bed. Mr. Opel snored softly in my ear. His arm was across my breasts. He was huge and warm, his hairy body rough against my skin. My mind replayed the events of the previous evening. I thought of Hamilton and believed myself the worst wife in the entire universe. Although I had little choice in the matter, it would be impossible for me to claim that I was forced to comply. No, I gave myself to a total stranger and enjoyed it. Perhaps I truly was a whore. If that were true, then my landing here must be some sort of cosmic justice. But I was not a wanton before I was under this roof! What, in the name of all that is holy, is going on?

While I was lost in contemplation, the Mrs. entered my vision. She was dressed in modest exercise attire.

"Good morning, slave Sylvia! How were your dreams?"

"I didn't have any."

"Then your sleep must have been suppletive. An encounter with a man as masculine as Henry tends to impress. You were dead to the world when he carried you up here. I envy you. The thing I miss most is a full-on shag with my husband, but it simply is not worth the risk, even with protection."

I gazed at her.

"Anyway, you don't want to hear about my problems. Time to keep that trim figure sleek! Keeping her man interested is a duty that falls equally to wives and to slaves."

I disentangled myself from her husband's embrace. She handed me exercise attire that was far less modest. After a potty break, I put them on and followed her to the exercise room. Susan was already there. She revealed more than her mother but less than me. It was clear that she inherited her mother's beauty. I felt that she was prettier than me. She was taller, her midnight locks shone in a way that I felt made my hair seem mousy; her legs were long, and she had more on top than I did. I thought about the ordinary boy who had come to squire her last night. I doubted that such a plain man could make such an attractive woman happy even if he possessed enormous wealth. I could tell that Susan wanted romance and adventure with a bit of danger. Right now, she was humoring her mother, but if she insisted on marriage to Robison, watch out! I wondered what her other, unmoneyed beaux was like. I was positive that he must be dashingly handsome at least. Thinking along those lines reminded me of Hamilton and I teared up. I forced my mind elsewhere, into the mundane repetition of exercise so that I did not collapse into a knot of loss and pain here and now. Grieving the demise of my marriage would be something I could not do in view of the Mr. and Mrs. The time for grief could only be when I was left alone if I ever was. I could also express it physically, here in the exercise room and not arouse suspicion. I threw myself with abandon into the prescribed exercises.

"Excellent, Sylvia!" beamed the Mrs. I was coated in sweat and completely worn out. I caught my breath.

"Bath time! First, you give me mine then I give you yours, then the men should be awake, and it will be time for breakfast."

Our baths completed I was dressed anew in my attire from the evening before. Looking closely, I realized that this was an entirely new set of clothing. We three women strode to the kitchen where a sumptuous breakfast was laid out. I felt the eyes of both father and son as I took my seat. Not meaning to, I gazed full bore into Henry Opel's eyes. I flushed and turned my head away. The large man grinned. He read the depth of satisfaction he had given me. I felt a supreme betrayal of my husband. That Mr. Opel had turned me so quickly was both mortifying and thrilling. What was I now? No longer a wife, at least for the present. Would I become completely compliant and entirely sated in the arms of my "master," my "owner?" Would I really end up the slave they claimed I was? I needed something stronger than tea to drink.

"After breakfast, Sylvia, I would like you to come to my private study. There are a few things that must be taken care of before I depart for my office in the city."

I nodded and replied, "Certainly, Master."

"My office is at the end of the long hall on the second floor."

"Understood."

I focused on my food. The Opel's employed some excellent cooks. But then again, with their kind of wealth why shouldn't the food be marvelous? It was not like they had to hire the first chef available at bargain basement rates. I wished to eat more, but Mrs. Opel stated that I had had enough and had my plate whisked away by the staff. A moment or so later, Mr. Opel wiped his hands and face with the fine silk napkin and made his way out of the kitchen. I heard his heavy footstep on the staircase. I held my breath and let it go slowly. I'd wait the proper moment or two until I followed him up the stairs. This is just what I had done in my old life when Hamilton summoned me. I gave him a moment to settle and contemplate before I approached him.

My heart beating a desperate tattoo, I made my way to the second floor and the thick oaken door at the end of the long hallway. I rapped lightly with my knuckles.

I heard a muffled, "Enter Sylvia."

I opened the door, curtsied, closed the door behind me, and approached the large desk. Henry Opel sat behind it, a pen and paper in his hands. He gestured for me to sit in the empty chair opposite him. I sat carefully so as not to expose too much of my anatomy.

"Good morning, Silvia. I thought I'd get a bit of information before we start our respective days."

I tried to relax.

"First off, you claim to be married, or at least you were. What is your husband's name?"

I brightened. "Oh, Sir... Master, my husband is named Hamilton Jackson Yates and he is a captain stationed at the Timber River garrison."

Mr. Opel made a note of that.

"And his physical description?"

"Oh, he is tall, six-foot-two and a half, thin but muscular with blonde wavy hair and a neat mustache and goatee. His eyes are blue. He has a scar on his left cheek which he received when we were courting. Another soldier had said something untoward towards me and they fought over the insult. While he did receive that scar, he won the fight. He always took pride in his scar. I probably took even more pride in it than he did."

"Interesting." Mr. Opel finished writing.

Unable to keep silent, I asked, "Does this mean that you are going to write to him on my behalf?" I beamed.

"Actually," he gazed at me levelly, "this was the moment that I was going to inform you that I am a retired colonel from our nation's armed forces. As the youngest battlefield commissioned colonel in history, I still have a great many connections within the military. For example, if I wanted someone assassinated, the army would only be too happy to send some commandoes to dispatch this certain someone. This is especially true now that I have the means to reimburse the army for their expenditures, meaning that my request would cost the taxpayers literally nothing. Were I of a mind, I could name some officer from a foreign nation at a particular fortification, of a particular rank, and let's say, a distinctive physical feature and commandoes would eliminate him with no fuss, and no muss and, no trace. Were I of a mind to do so, of course."

My heart fell into my stomach. How could I have been so stupid?

"I see sir," I managed to squeak.

"Rather enlightening, isn't it?"

I had no answer for that.

He looked at me sternly, "I trust no more nonsense about "freedom" or reunion with your nonexistent "husband" will cross your lips ever again?"

"No, Master."

"Very well. Now let's see how well you can apply those beautiful lips of yours. Come to this side of the desk, kneel before me, liberate my manhood, and suckle it until I climax. You will swallow every drop. Then, I can get to the office, and you can relax with Noreen and Susan,"

What else could I do? I suckled his manhood while I contemplated my latest and most agonizing betrayal of my husband. Hamilton didn't deserve someone as stupid and foolish as me! If some other woman stole his heart while consoling him over my loss, well that would serve me right! Never had I been this low. The forced stripping by the trio of scoundrels and the slave pens were nothing compared to this!

"Excellent!" he exclaimed as he patted my head. His seed slid bitterly down my throat. Now I knew the true taste of slavery!