Only Consenting Adults Ch. 08

Christine gasped, staring at her daughter's belly. Her face crumpled and she brought her hand up to her mouth. She blinked rapidly, looking up to her daughter's face.

"We're going to have another baby," he announced, but his voice was softer now, "Our child. Your grandchild, from your only daughter. Part of me is in there, also part of you. What you're doing with your law, what you're doing by trying to pretend we don't exist, is hurting my family, Gerard. It's hurting your daughter, and it will affect your grandchild too. You have no idea how hard our lives are already, without everything else you're doing as well."

He looked from one parent to the other, catching Jen's mother unawares, seeing her unguarded, mournful expression, staring at her daughter.

"You say it's about lasting change, you talk like it's your legacy, but here's the thing. Our child will grow up knowing what you did, how it broke your own daughter's heart."

"How? Really, this is too far," Gerard interjected, finding his voice at last.

He snorted, the ire finally rising to the surface, cracking the veneer of controlled civility.

"So, you came here to threaten, did you? To tell me you're going to turn my own grandchild against me?"

He stabbed a finger at Henry angrily. "That's pathetic."

"No, you're missing something important," Henry countered, "I'm not going to do any of that. I'm going to wait until they're old enough and I'm just going to show them what you wrote, the things you said. You're going to turn your own grandchild against you. You don't need me to do that."

Henry locked eyes with the older man, staring him down, seeing rage kindled in his expression, or was it something else? Gerard turned to his wife, but Christine was staring helplessly at the baby bump, a lost, sad look on her face.

Seeing the pain on Christine's face, Henry felt the anger evaporate in him. Too much, all too much, he thought; the anger passing down the generations when there ought to be love. He sighed, suddenly exhausted.

"I'm sorry," he said, "You no doubt have your reasons. All I want to say is this."

He drew a deep breath, feeling Gerard's baleful glare on him.

"The law is going to pass, I can see that you've got the numbers. You'd only have to modify a little wording, you don't have to scrap it all, but I can see now that you won't even do that. Instead, you're going to let it push us even further from equality with everyone else, aren't you?"

Henry paused, but Gerard didn't answer.

"So, here's what I'm going to have to do. I'm going to fight it. I'm going to find other people to fight it, because I can't let it stand in its present form. I need to do this to protect my family. I know I'm not going to overturn it this year, or next year, but I will."

He removed his hand from Jen's belly and she automatically covered herself up again.

"I guarantee you that in ten years, I'll have consigned it to history, I'll have undone what you set out to do, made it like it never existed. So, you have two options, Gerard. Do you want your legacy to be a discarded piece of paper that you sacrificed your family for? Or do you want it to be flesh and blood?"

Gerard seemed to mull it over, then he rose to his feet.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

Slowly, everyone else stood. Henry scooped Millie up from the floor, grabbing her toys with his free hand. Gerard led them back through the house to the front door.

"Take care," he said, opening the door to let them out.

One by one, they stepped outside, out into the late afternoon sunshine. Anya took Jen's hand and they made their way back to the car. Henry strapped his daughter into her seat, and Anya slid into the back to watch over her. Jen slumped into the back, sitting quietly next to her wife, and Henry drove them away, back home.

"That could have gone better," Anya said.

"Nah," Jen replied, her voice flat, "Not a chance."

Henry reached out and turned on some music.

"At least they know I'm pregnant now."

Henry grimaced, "I'm sorry Jen, I...."

"Forget it. All done now. They know, that's pretty much all there is to it."

"I'm sorry. What can I do for you?"

"Put my collar on. I don't want to think anymore. I'm done with thinking."

Henry pulled the soft leather strip from his pocket, handing it back for Anya to take. He glanced into the rear-view mirror, watching as she fastened it snugly in place around Jen's neck. Jen seemed to melt, then, once it was secured, curling up against Anya and closing her eyes. Anya ran her fingers through Jen's blonde hair slowly. She continued to stroke Jen's head all the way back.

When at last they got home, Henry took his sleeping daughter to the nursery and put her to bed, taking his time to get her settled. He closed the door behind him, unwilling to call out for fear of rousing her, so he went from room to room until he found Anya and Jen in the lounge.

Jen was kneeling in front of the couch, her arms folded behind her back, wearing nothing except her collar, but that wasn't what held Henry's attention. He wasn't looking at the obedient, naked submissive, he was looking at her stunning, imperious Mistress.

Anya's body was completely sealed inside a skin-tight, polished black latex suit. She was perched on the edge of the couch, her glossy, sexy legs splayed wide to reveal her unzipped pussy. Anya wore a hood that hid her features behind a shiny rubber façade, her human qualities reduced to dark, smouldering eyes with smoky black eye-shadow and the crimson slash of lipstick. Emerging from the back of her head was a long, platted blonde ponytail. She smoothed gloved hands over the ample, polished globes of her breasts, teasing herself until her nipples emerged prominently from the glossy black surface.

"Now," she breathed.

Jen bowed her head to the waiting crotch of her Mistress, dipping her eager tongue between the pink folds revealed by the shiny steel zip. Above her, the shiny black body shuddered with delight. A latex-gloved hand bunched in Jen's long, blonde hair, keeping her face pressed firmly into position. Anya smiled: a wide, nightmare grin of scarlet.

"This is where you belong, serving me," Anya murmured, "Don't think. You don't need to think. You only need to serve."

She looked up, noticing Henry at last. Gently, she patted the seat next to her.

"Your Master needs your attention too," she continued, "But first, I feel like you've lost some of your focus. I think a round of denial is going to be required."

Anya looked up at Henry.

"I was thinking a couple of weeks, this time," she said.

"I think she needs longer," Henry replied, "I think we need to double it. I'll get the belt."

Henry watched his partners for a moment. Jen was focused ardently on her Mistress, not hesitating at the discussion of an extended period of chastity. He left them to it, rummaging around in his wardrobe for the soft cotton bag that contained Jen's chastity belt. The polished steel surface gleamed in the light.

By the time he got back to the lounge, the slick, black-skinned form of Anya's body was reclining against the back of the couch, her stomach muscles fluttering as Jen bestowed soft little kisses on her crotch, bringing her down gently from her orgasm. Henry stripped off, taking his place next to Anya, the belt in his hand. Anya sat up and took the device from him. She stood, towering in her stiletto heels over the kneeling figure of her wife.

"You've never gone a month before in the belt," she stated, "I'm looking forward to seeing how you cope. Your Master may decide to unlock you beforehand to fuck you, but that's men for you. They need to have their dick in something. I don't. I'm quite happy to leave you locked up tight for a month, or maybe longer."

She knelt down behind Jen, pushing her head forward towards Henry's crotch and his rapidly-stiffening cock until Jen was on her hands and knees with her bottom in the air. A latex-gloved finger ventured along Jen's swollen labia, pushing inside her. Jen squirmed at the sensation.

"Like that?" Anya asked, "Remember it, if you can. It's going to be a while before you feel anything inside you again."

Obediently, Jen's lips descended on Henry's firm shaft, licking and slurping. Behind her, an inscrutable dominatrix fitted the belt snugly between her legs, locking the ends into the waistband with an abrupt click. She patted Jen's bottom and stood up.

Jen didn't break rhythm, bobbing determinedly up and down on Henry's manhood as she was secured. Henry could see it in her expression, the way her eyes closed as the lock snapped into place, the acceptance of chastity. He looked up at the latex-clad vision standing in front of him, as she watched the blonde head bobbing up and down on Henry's manhood. Anya was transfixed. Slowly, she pulled up her crotch zip, tucking the swollen, pink folds of her pussy behind the glossy latex.

Henry's attention turned back to the lips around his shaft, expertly teasing the pleasure from him, working his head with her tongue, bringing him closer and closer to his tipping point. He was vaguely aware of Anya walking away, the clicking of her stiletto heels on the polished wood of the hallway fading into the distance.

Henry rested against the back of the couch, allowing Jen free reign to bring him to a wonderful, thunderous orgasm in her own time. He relished the delicate use of her tongue to explore the sensitive area just behind his purple tip, then the friction of her pursed lips as she pushed down onto his shaft. It felt counterintuitive that they had all decided that the best way to make Jen feel better about how the day had gone was to instigate a lengthy period of sexual torment, coupled with an order to give pleasure to her owners. Looking down at the beautiful face attending to his manhood, feeling the shivers of bliss from each stroke, each suck, it was clear to Henry that Jen was deeply enjoying being put to use.

"See," Henry murmured, "You do so much better when you're just a brainless fuckdoll. We're going to keep you like this, our little toy to be used when we need to cum. It's your place, isn't it? A mindless puppet on her knees."

Jen sucked mightily, and the pressure triggered a cascade of ecstasy in him from the tightness of her mouth around his straining, rigid cock, but also from her almost orgasmic response to his words, her acceptance of her fate. She took him all the way in, pushing his head against the opening to her throat without the slightest trace of gag reflex, and he exploded, flushing her mouth with his seed. Jen's lips wrapped around the base of his shaft, forming a tight seal as he pumped and pumped into her waiting orifice.

When his cock ceased its pulsing dance, she pulled off him, her lips clamped together, rocking back on her haunches. She knelt, mouth closed, hands on her knees and legs parted in her display position.

"Swallow," Henry said.

He watched the contractions of her throat as she swallowed his cum. Jen opened her mouth to show him.

"Good girl," said Anya.

Startled, Henry looked across the room to see a gorgeous, sculpted body with glossy black skin. He hadn't noticed her return. Anya crossed over to Jen, letting the leash unfurl from her gloved hand, bending down to attach it to the ring in her collar. She tugged, and Jen began to move on her hands and knees, following behind her Mistress on her leash.

Henry rose from the couch, his erection dwindling now, and followed the two women out into the hallway, his attention on the way the steel belt flashed in the light between Jen's legs as she crawled. Anya led her toy on hands and knees towards the front door, to the alcove where a plump cushion rested on top of the pedestal. Jen understood, climbing up to settle herself into her display position in the alcove, chin up but eyes downcast respectfully.

Slowly, Anya reached out and unclipped the leash, running her latex-gloved hand across her wife's neck, down between her firm, pert breasts and over the burgeoning curve of her belly. Anya patted it lightly, then turned away, walking back to Henry, coiling the leash around her hand. She looked up at Henry, one hand resting for a moment on his shoulder. Even through the hood, he could see the look of concern in her eyes. They shared a moment of mutual acknowledgement, then Anya strode past him.

Henry turned to watch her, watching the wiggle of her perfect bottom, shaped by the shiny, black suit, and the way she swayed her hips on her six-inch stilettos. She reached her bedroom door and went inside. She didn't look back.

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[Next chapter: Marlowe takes a big step forward in exploring his wife Victoria's objectification kink in a booth at the Lost and Found.

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