Pawn of the Living Dead

"And you?" I asked, my voice full of husky desire.

"Me what?" she squeaked.

"You like it rough."

It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," she agreed.

"Tell me."

I watched her swallow again.

"I like it rough," she whispered.

I pinched her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. She gasped. But I felt her legs trap mine between them, as she sought to bring her thighs together press them against her pussy.

I stood up.

"Too many windows here. Too many kids out tonight."

"Yes," she said. "Windows . . . Kids."

She stood up and walked back to the hallway as if in a trance. I stopped her at the bottom of the stairs, my hands on her waist as I came up behind her.

"You're a strong woman, aren't you?" I whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she said with a shudder.

"What do you do for a living, Schaefer Armstrong?"

"I'm a lawyer."

I reached around her and began playing gently with her breasts again.

"I'll bet you have to be all tough and assertive at work then," I said.

"Yes."

"And when you come home, you want someone to take care of you, don't you?"

"Oh, God, yes," she said, trembling as she sagged back against me.

"Someone who doesn't care that you're a lawyer."

"Yes."

"Someone to tell you what to do . . ."

"No," she said. "Wait, I mean . . ."

"You mean yes, Schaefer. Someone to surrender to."

I began rubbing harder now.

"Oh, God," she repeated. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't want to have to decide what to do," I whispered. "That's why you invited me here."

"Yes."

Her voice was barely audible, meant to answer both me and herself.

"And that's why I came, Schaefer," I told her. "Now be a good girl and wait here."

"Um, okay."

"Okay, Miss McGill," I prompted her.

She hesitated, half a second. It was half a second too long. I pinched her nipples in my fingers and she screamed.

"Okay, Miss McGill."

I retrieved my bag and walked up the stairs into the master bedroom.

'You'd think the bastard would at least have gone out and bought a new bed,' Anna said as I tossed the bag into a chair. The large king-size bed was covered with a floral comforter that matched the curtains on the windows.

A door to the right led to an enormous walk-in closet. I quickly went through Schaefer's outfits with a practiced eye.

Looking for something in particular? I asked.

'Something I saw the little slut in when she—here it is.'

She pulled out an absolutely gorgeous gray suit.

'Like it? Six hundred dollars easy. Fifty percent wool, fifty percent silk. Two crystal buttons in front. Pencil skirt that zips in back. Perfect. Normally you'd wear it with a black blouse underneath and two-inch heels. We'll skip the blouse and double the heels, don't you think?'

I can't wear this! I protested.

'Of course you can't,' Ann said with a laugh, laying the outfit on the bed with the shoes that she had selected. She called out into the hallway. "Come on up, lawyer-girl."

I heard her tentative footsteps on the stairs and then Schaefer appeared in the door. I nodded toward the bed.

"Put it on, lawyer-girl."

"You know, I think this has gone far enough," Schaefer said nervously. "Maybe you should just go now."

I picked the bag up and slowly pulled out the riding crop. I walked around behind her, noting with satisfaction how she just stood in place. I ran the tip of the crop over her ass and between her thighs. I caressed her cheek with it and moved it down her shoulder and then her arm. Then I slid the other end in between my legs, shoving it up and into my soaked pussy. I pulled it out and held it against her lips. They opened slowly, sucking the wet leather into her mouth.

"Far enough, lawyer-girl? You have no idea how far this is going to go."

**********

Schaefer Armstrong was one of those women who would look good wearing a potato sack. In her gray power suit, perched atop four-inch heels that made her slender calves look even longer than they were, she was stunning. Her generous breasts filled the expensive fabric of her blouse like it was so much spandex. Only her eyes -- liquid pools of anxiety -- betrayed the girl that still lived deep inside the woman.

"Turn," I said, motioning with the crop. "Stop."

A shiver rippled through her body as she stood facing the closet from which she had just emerged.

"Bend over," I ordered her. "Hands on the door jamb."

She complied, thrusting her ass back at me. I slowly walked toward her. I reached out with the crop, hiking the skirt up her shapely legs. She whimpered softly as the leather tip neared the junction of her thighs.

"Remember that I'm your teacher, Schaefer. I have to give you some leeway to make your own mistakes. You'll learn so much more from your own mistakes, won't you?"

"Yes," she murmured. I was slowly pushing the tip of the crop back and forth across the cloth-covered lips of her pussy.

'Mmmmm, ' Ann said inside my head. 'Smell that?'

Jesus. It's like—

'Pussy perfume? ' Ann's laugh was low and throaty. 'Eau de "oh, baby." '

I heard my own giggling echo inside my head, and thought it was a good idea that it was Ann, rather than me, who was in control of the voice on the outside..

'True,' Ann said. 'Kind of hard to be the teacher while you're giggling, isn't it? Speaking of teaching . . .'

"Why are you wearing that outfit, Schaefer?" I asked.

"Because—because you told me to."

"And the heels?"

"You told me to." I pulled the crop backward, running the tip along the crack of her ass and pulling the skirt high enough to reveal the filmy black silk nestled between her perfectly round cheeks.

"And these? Why did you wear these?

"Pausing is a mistake, Schaefer." I pulled the crop back and slashed it across her creamy skin. She squealed.

"You picked these yourself, didn't you, Schaefer. I set out the outfit and the shoes, but you changed panties all on your own, didn't you, honey?"

"Yes, Miss McGill."

"They're lovely, Schaefer. They just show off your cute little ass so perfectly. You're excited, aren't you, honey?"

Schaefer moaned and thrust her ass even further back toward me as I returned to stroking her flesh.

"Miss McGill," she whispered, her voice thick with need.

"You want it, don't you?"

"Yes." She drew out the "s" Her voice was a susurrant hiss.

"On the bed, Schaefer. Keep your skirt where it is."

She scrambled to follow my orders, although not with such haste that she didn't arrange herself carefully on the covers with her hair surrounding her like a halo. Her long, slender legs stretched outward in implicit invitation, the pointed toe of her black high heels reaching toward the lower corners of the bed. I stood beside the bed, the crop still in my hand as I traced it slowly up and down her clean-shaven legs.

"How old are you, Schaefer?"

"Twenty-six, Miss McGill."

"Twenty-six. More than old enough to tell me what you want, aren't you?"

"I want you!" she said in a girlish giggle. She extended her arms toward me, the fiery red nails of her beautifully manicured fingers clutching at the hem of my dress.

'You should hear her little girl act during sex,' Ann said, her voice filled with disgust. '"Oh, baby, you feel so good inside me. So big and full." Like she can feel anything in there. This bitch's cunt has had more cock in it than yours and mine combined. '

How do you know all this? I asked.

Ann laughed. 'I'm a spirit, honey. There's no privacy from spirits. Last Monday she spent her lunch time underneath the desk of the firm's senior partners giving him a blowjob. Then after work she let one of the mailroom boys bend her over her own desk. '

God, she must be some kind of sex addict.

'Far from it, ' Ann said. 'Her expression never changed during either one. It's all a means to an end for this one. The partner can give her a promotion. '

But the mailroom boy, I protested.

'The young man gives her the first look at anything important. '

But what about—

'Allen? My darling widower? '

Yes. Why marry him? Rather than . . .

'Fuck him like the rest? Who knows? As Mrs. Allen Buckley I had access to a number of social circles that would be closed to Ms. Schaefer Armstrong. A better question is why Allen married her. She's not exactly his type. '

But she's gorgeous, I said.

'So was I,' Ann rejoined with a hollow laugh. 'But as I have learned since, Allen likes them much younger. He likes them to look much younger, too. Even you might have too much tit for Allen's liking. '

Seriously?

'She told you he was out of town today? He told his partners he was going to be in San Francisco. Actually, he's in Santa Barbara with one of those college interns the firm hires. Cute little thing with a body like a board.'

"So you never cheated on your husband—Allen?"

'I was one of those naïve little girls who believe in the sanctity of marriage and all that. I had dinner waiting every night, and kept myself in shape and read all sorts of books on how to please a man in bed. But there's no way a forty-five year old woman is going to compete with a twenty-something fuckbunny like this one. Or have the body of one of his little teenyboppers.'

"Miss McGill!" Schaefer interrupted our dialogue with a needy moan. "Do me."

"Do your what?" I asked.

"My pussy, Miss . . . tress. My fucking pussy is on fire."

"Mmm, mine too, Schaefer," I said with a smug smile. "Now I need to teach you how to make it gush, don't I?"

"Yes, Mistress."

I dropped the crop and moved forward until I was even with her head. Slowly licking my lips for Schaefer's benefit, I put one knee on the bed and swung my other leg up and over to straddle her. She pushed my dress up my thighs and slid her soft hands between my thong and my skin. I reached down slid the middle finger of my right hand to pull the crotch aside. My lips were already glistening with my own need and the feeling of the cool air nearly brought me down upon her. Instead, I managed to lower myself down with exquisite deliberateness. When I was mere inches away—when my thighs framed only those velvety brown eyes—I took her education one step further.

"Taste me, Schaefer."

"Yes." Her mouth opened.

"That's right, baby. Smell me. Touch me. Lick me. Suck me. Taste me."

She did as ordered. Her nostrils flared as she drank in my scent. She reached for me, parting my lips with those elegant fingers. Her tongue completed a single, slow circuit of my sex. And finally she pursed her lips, sucking my clit into the vacuum of her mouth. I wrapped my hands in that beautiful hair, pulling myself even further inside her, and lost myself in the deliciousness of the moment.

The college year had been only three weeks old when Lindsay began her slow seduction. I was completely innocent, a naïf in the game of sex in general and women in particular. For the next month I was putty in her hands. She molded me into the lover she wanted. After she had tired of me and crushed my heart with the nonchalant suddenness of our breakup, I had turned my attention to men and never looked back . . . until now.

'You wanna focus here, honey?' Ann let a throaty chuckle ripple through my head and cut off the sensations I felt coursing through my body. 'She's good. I'll give you that. And look at her face. '

I looked down. Schaefer had her eyes closed, and her nails dug into my thighs as if she wanted to keep me there forever.

'She's never felt this either,' Ann said. 'Get this.'

I reached back. Schaefer had been writhing on the bed; her legs were tightly closed together, her skirt, formerly bunched around her waist, was now down around her hips. I had to pull it back up before I could slide my fingers down the smooth skin of her mound and underneath the waistband of her black silk panties. She was clean-shaven and I found my thoughts drifting to the feelings my own tongue would create when it met that lovely flesh.

Schaefer groaned into my pussy as my fingers probed her pussy.

'See?' Ann asked. 'She's soaked.'

I reached down and touched Schaefer's nose with my index finger. Her eyes blinked open.

"You're a natural, Schaefer," I said. "You got an A-plus on your first test. Now let's begin your second lesson."

I pushed myself back off her, kneeling to the side as I pulled my fingers away.

"No!" Schaefer protested. "Do me. Please!"

"I will, baby," I assured her. "Let's see a little more of you first."

I reached for her blouse but her hands beat me there, frantically tearing at the buttons as she opened her torso to my inspection. In the meantime, I pulled my own dress off. I took a moment to admire her bra, an exquisite confection of silk and lace that did nothing to hide the hardening of her nipples, before flicking open the hook that held the two cups in front. Her breasts burst free and I squeezed one, letting it spill outward and upward through my fingers. She moaned again as I bowed my head, my other hand cupping the back of her neck and bringing her toward me for a kiss. Our mouths met, our tongues danced, and then I let my fingers drift back down. I felt her stiffen as I probed her sex. I pulled back to watch and put the tips of the fingers of my free hand against her lips. She sucked them inside with the same eagerness with which her pussy tried to pull the fingers of my other hand inside. Her lovely body was bucking and undulating beneath me.

"You like this, don't you?" I asked her.

"Oh God, yes," she groaned.

"You want it."

"Yes," she agreed.

"You need it."

"Mistress!" It was a cry of surrender, stretching her muscles to the breaking point as she reached down to hold my hand between her legs. The next two minutes were a song without words, as her climax played out in grunts and gasps. Finally, she just lay there, too exhausted to move.

"And now it's fucking time," I said.

"Fucking?" Her voice was a weak shadow of itself. Through heavily lidded eyes she watched me get off the bed and strip off my bra and panties. Her eyes widened as I pulled the strapon from the bag and fitted it to me. Back on the bed, I flipped her over on her stomach, giving that gorgeous ass a caress before reawakening her fires. She began moaning again, giving voice to her needs only after I had spent several minutes with one hand in her pussy and the other yanking back on her hair.

"Fuck me, Mistress!" she screamed. "Fuck my pussy!"

I got behind her and put the head of the plastic dick against her and her screams began again.

**********

What was that?

I looked at the clock. It was just past 11:30. I had heard a noise downstairs.

'That would be the beginning of Act Two,' Ann said.

Huh?

"Honey, you awake?" a man's voice called out. "Whose car in front of the house?"

I got up and pulled on a robe. Schaefer was still asleep, curled up underneath the covers, and the room still smelled of a delicious combination of strawberry lube and pussy juice. Before I went downstairs, I reached into my bag.

"Who are you?" the middle-aged man at the bottom of the staircase asked me as I descended.

"Nancy McGill," I answered. "You?"

"I'm Allen Buckley. This is my house."

"And your wife's," I pointed out. "Schaefer's. She invited me in."

"Where is she?"

"Upstairs. She's a little tired."

"From . . .?"

"Making love."

I watched him try to contain his shock and twisted the knife a little more.

"She appreciated my package," I said.

"Your what?"

I opened my robe and Allen gasped. And stared, open-mouthed.

"I know," I said. "It's bigger than yours. But yours was good enough for Kayla Testa, wasn't it?"

"You're threatening me with telling Schaefer?" he asked, suddenly regaining his confidence.

"She doesn't care. Kayla is Tom Testa's daughter, right? The owner of Testa Industries, Prichett and Spencer's biggest client?"

He was speechless once again.

"Put your hands behind your back," I ordered.

"Or you'll . . ."

"Call Mr. Prichett," I said. "Or Mr. Spencer. Or even worse, Mr. Testa. Your choice. Actually, it's my choice. But if you just put your hands behind your back, I don't think we need to wake up any of those gentlemen."

His eyes widened. His hands slowly went behind his back. I smiled as I put the handcuffs on him.

'Now let's get the son of a bitch's pants off,' Ann said. 'You know, it wasn't until after I died that I learned how small he really is. It's no wonder he likes the young stuff. They're the only ones he fits. '

Holy shit!

'Just plain shit,' Ann muttered.

"If you're planning on taking me upstairs and humiliating me in front of Schaefer," Allen said, "rest assured she already knows I don't have a particularly large dick."

"You will," I said under my breath. I gestured up the stairs and Allen, leaving his shoes, socks, underwear, and pants behind him, preceded me.

What the hell does that mean?

I felt Ann smiling inside my head.

"Hold on a minute, Allen," I said just before we reached the door. "I'd better go first. You stay here until I call, okay?"

I gave him a playful slap on his naked ass and slipped by him into the room.

"Schaefer?"

"Mistress." Schaefer was practically purring as she stretched herself on the bed.

"Your husband came home."

"Allen?"

"You're not scared of him, are you?"

She giggled.

"Are you afraid he might divorce you?"

She shook her head. "If it's his idea, I get half of everything."

"And if it's yours?"

"If I file before our tenth anniversary, I get nothing."

'Perfect.' That was Ann, inside my head.

What's perfect?

'The only thing I didn't know was how to bring this to an end,' Ann said. 'But this is perfect.'

"Schaefer, why don't you put on your sleeping mask over there and get on your hands and knees."

"More doggy?" she asked.

I smiled and nodded toward the mask.

"I'll be right there," I said. "I need to visit the ladies' room."

As Schaefer assumed her position, I reached into the bag one last time.

What is that?

'Dildo gag,' Ann said as she took it outside. Allen opened his mouth to protest, but I simply whispered "Mr. Testa" into his ear.

"Now I want you on the bed behind your wife, fucking her with your new toy. Clear?"

He nodded. We went in together and Allen dutifully took his place behind his wife. As he put the dildo at the entrance to his wife's pussy, I took Schaefer's cell phone off the bureau and activated the camera.

"You feel smaller," Schaefer whined as he entered her.

I snapped the picture and quickly sent a copy to my own phone.

"What the fuck!" Schaefer squawked. She tore off the mask and looked back at her husband and then at me. A look of horror spread across her face.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making sure you two assholes suffer for the next ten years. If you get a divorce, you lose everything. If Allen gets a divorce, I'll see to it that you still lose everything, won't I, Allen?"

Ann's former husband simply nodded his acquiescence.

"And if either of you have sex with anyone else—anyone!—I'll make sure this picture gets sent to everyone in your precious little law firm."

"Why are you doing this to us?" Schaefer screamed.

"What did Ann Buckley ever do to you, bitch?" I screamed back. "Except get in your way on your climb to the top? Except marry out of love the same man you wanted. Fuck you! Fuck both of you! Have fun fucking each other for the next decade."

They were even more horrified now. I grabbed my dress and put it back on as I headed back down the stairs and out of the house.

'Thank you,' Ann said inside my head.

For what?

'The clock struck twelve a minute ago, and I lost the ability to control you. That little speech about Ann Buckley was all you, darling.'