tagMind ControlSabah at the Ball

Sabah at the Ball


A sequel to "Sabah and Rod"


Proofread and edited by Pet Tigress. Any remaining errors are my own.


Rod slowly pulled himself back to exhausted consciousness. He smiled weakly, knowing why he felt dissipated in this way. Sabah had Fed again last night. It was getting familiar. A Feeding was like an attack of malaria, he mused, several days of dreamy lassitude, then a gradual recovery to normal. But even if it were possible, Rod had no desire to be cured of these attacks. First, because he knew he was pleasing Sabah. More than pleasing her, he sustained her. Her very life depended on the sexual energy she absorbed from him during that orgasmic fury. That was wonderful knowledge: his beautiful, sexy, marvelous Mistress needed HIM.

Then too, during his recovery Sabah would spend the days pampering and coddling him. Lovemaking with Sabah would be especially gentle and even more frequent. And he knew she would let him loll for hours, drinking from the fountain of her self as he worshiped and pleasured her. Her cum nourished him, she said. Sabah was very excited about this discovery and said it made their relationship more symbiosis than parasite-prey as with her previous lovers.

Finally, the Feeding itself was never less than wonderful. He enjoyed making love with Sabah morning and night (and when she was feeling frisky, during the day, too). But ordinary sex was nothing compared to a Feeding. She always made it special.

He still remembered the one a few months after coming to live with her. It was typical, if any one of a series of unique adventures can be said to be typical. He never knew exactly when the usual, mind-blowing sex would become a Feeding, although of course he knew that Sabah seldom went for more than three or four weeks without one. Thus he was expecting nothing extraordinary when she called him to their bedchamber early one evening.

Perfectly posed and perfectly naked, Sabah sat smiling on the edge of her bed, the bed she let him share. A long green gown that would hug every inch of her perfect body lay beside her. An emerald choker Rod had never seen was on the dressing table nearby. Her dark hair was piled high on her head. She was preparing for an evening out. Rod was struck by her beauty and felt regret that he could not accompany her wherever it was she was going.

"It's the Winchester League Spring Charity Ball tonight, my sweet," she said reading the question on his face. "Will you help me dress?" Not needing to wait for his reply she nodded to indicate the pair of high-top stockings he had overlooked. Unquestioningly, Rod took them and, dropping to his knees before her, began to tug and roll the delicate fabric up her long firm legs. As he neared the crotch the aroma of her arousal overpowered him. He looked up at her with the unstated petition in his eyes.

"Of course, you may, my darling, at least for a few minutes." Rod's joy knew no bounds as he thrust his head between Sabah's luscious thighs and drank deeply of her essence. Sometimes Rod did not know which form of worship was best. This had the advantage of being more selfless, not that HE did not enjoy bringing Sabah to climax with his mouth and tongue, and he could prolong it for hours. Yet, ultimately he had to prefer what she did, and no matter how many time he got her off otherwise, Sabah ultimately loved to be penetrated, long, hard, repeated thrusts of his large cock into her vagina. Perhaps it was the only time, if only for a few seconds, but when he was pounding hard into her, she totally lost control.

Unaware of when she bid him stop, Rod was suddenly conscious of Sabah's face smiling down at him. "Time for me to finish getting dressed, my sweet. I can't let you make us late." She waited just long enough to detect his happiness as he understood the meaning of her words. "Your tux is on the bed, sweetheart," she laughed. "Did you think I wanted to spend a night around a bunch of stuffy high-society types without you, my love?"

Now it was Sabah's turn to marvel as she cast admiring glances at Rod while she finished slipping into the gown and matching heels. She had stripped Rod of all shyness before her, so he disrobed and began to dress with the natural grace of serpent changing its skin. She loved to look at his hard naked body, the firm jaw, the black curls. In her centuries of existence, she had never had such a slave, such a lover.

Since he had come to live with her, she had put him on a weight training and high protein regimen. A few pounds of office flab had been replaced by several more of hard, lean muscle. Sometimes she could not believe her luck that his beautiful, intelligent man was hers. Her need had been so great the night of the storm, she would have settled for far less. But when she saw him fully dressed in the evening attire that just hinted at the hunk hidden within, she found herself humming, "Someday My Prince Will Come." Hers had.

"Here are the keys, darling. Take us to the ball."

Sabah was glad she had kept and lovingly preserved the old Lincoln. The wide bench seats were perfect for scroonching close and laying her head in Rod's lap like a happy cat. As he drove the beautiful old car along the twisting mountain road toward the little county seat, she resisted the urge to open his fly and suck the erection she felt in his pants. She was saving that for later. His gentle stroking of her hair and neck had almost put her to sleep when she felt him decelerate and enter the winding street of the old town on what had been the Virginia frontier.

Although the town was perhaps 1500 feet lower than her property up in the Blue Ridges, the sun had set and an early spring nip was in the air. The old stone country club had been torn down and replaced by a faux-Classical Revival building that Sabah hated, but tonight it was blazing with light that illuminated the surrounding grounds. Sabah threw her fur around her shoulders and waited for Rod to open the door. A valet took the car as they made their entrance.

Rod was too happy being with this wonderful woman to be conscious of the impression the couple made on the already gathered guests. It would not have occurred to him that every man in the room envied him, the man at the side of this spectacular woman. Sabah was well know in the little town, but no one could remember seeing her like this, brimming with life, scintillating sex appeal. And who was the tall muscular young man with her? Nor would Rod have suspected the depth of instant jealousy the other women felt when the saw Sabah and their husbands' reactions. What had SHE done to deserve an Adonis like him? A thousand generations of feminine intuition told them the young hunk was totally infatuated with the older woman and that Sabah had him fucking her silly.

"Sabah! Good to see you," boomed the friendly voice of Charles Landsworth, Chairman of the League. "Glad you could come." Melanie, Charles's wife, was drifting their way, a slight scowl on her face.

"Good evening, Charles, Melanie," Sabah greeted them. "I'd like you to meet my new ... friend, Rod." Melanie lifted an eyebrow. The pleasantries continued, but Sabah didn't miss Melanie's judgmental attitude. She could almost hear the sarcastic remarks the blond trophy wife would have liked to make, 'He's a little young for you, isn't he?' 'Where did you pick him out, in a sports bar?' as well as the one she would never have verbalized, though she was dying to know, 'Does he fuck as good as he looks?'

Sabah was tired of Melanie. She had tried to be friendly. She had been truly happy that Charles had found someone so soon after his first wife's death. Sabah guessed that the young woman had seduced him, but Charles seemed happy. Sabah understood perfectly well that Melanie was jealous of Sabah's independent standing in the community, while she lived only in Charles's reflected glow.

Sabah also suspected Melanie secretly regretted giving up her exciting, if poorly paid life as a junior lobbyist in Washington for the financial security of Charles's money, which she spent with abandon. But understanding Melanie did not make her any easier to stomach. Sabah particularly resented Melanie for not realizing what a treasure she had in Charles. When she allowed herself to pick up impressions, Sabah had confirmed what his face showed: Charles totally adored his new wife even though -- and this had been a surprise to Sabah -- she eyedroppered out the sex to her still lusty husband.

Melanie definitely had her clique. Sabah noticed that the group of Melanie's snooty friends, Agatha Witherspoon, Grace Chriswell, Darlene Simms, and Marjory Gresham, avoided Rod and her throughout the before-dinner cocktails. She noted the slight aura of hatefulness around the group. Maybe the time had come to do something about that, she grinned.

Soon the crowd was called to their seats. Just as Sabah and Rod were to sit down, Charles came over to take Sabah to the head table. "I have no idea what this is about, honey," she whispered to Rod as Charles led her away. As she took her place at her place to the right of the Chairman, everyone applauded.

Rod could see on Sabah's face that everything was a total surprise to her as it was even more to him. He only understood after dinner when the Chairman announced that Sabah Noor was being recognized as Winchester's "Citizen of the Year." Rod knew of course that his Mistress was an amazing woman, but he had no idea of all her civic activities. Not only had she donated considerable sums to many worthy projects and served on many committees, but she also volunteered at a nearby hospice. One of the sisters stood to give an emotional testimony of how Sabah had an almost magical power to calm and cheer the lonely dying people. Rod found himself choked up with joy and pride for his marvelous Mistress. He noticed, however, the group of Melanie and her fiends in one section of the hall who only looked on sullenly. Sabah noticed as well.

Sabah's acknowledgement was brief and tinged with self- deprecating humor, but Rod had no doubt she was genuinely touched by the community's gesture. "So thank you all again," she said in closing, "but if I'm not mistaken, this is a ball. So, Let's DANCE!"

Nodding to the orchestra that struck up a slow waltz, Sabah walked to the center of the empty dance floor. A nod in his direction told Rod what to do. Although embarrassed, he rose and made his way among the tables to Sabah's side. The embarrassment evaporated the moment she slipped into his arms. For several long seconds the entire gathering was struck silent by the stunning older woman and the handsome young man gliding around the floor. The dance was perfectly proper, but the two bodies moving as one seemed to generate an erotic field around them.

One by one, other couples began to join them on the floor and soon the room was filled with happy, laughing husbands and wives, some of whom hadn't danced together for years. As if by magic, however, feet remembered dance steps long thought forgotten. Wisely, the band kept to tunes from ten or twenty years earlier, when the mostly middle age crowd had been dating. Everything was going according to plan, Sabah smiled.

"Huh?" Rod realized he had been so caught up in the sensuous pleasure of dancing with Sabah in his arms, he had not quite heard what she said.

"Never mind, love. We're going to mix things up a little. Just tell that to all the women you dance with and the other thing to Melanie."

"Tell what?" he asked, but Sabah had already slipped away to invite Charles to dance. Rod grinned at Melanie's obvious displeasure as he offered his arm to one of her friends who, like Melanie, had not joined in the dancing. It was Agatha Chriswell, a plump but pleasant looking woman; pleasant-looking, that is, if she didn't have that superior expression on her face, Rod thought.

The band had been playing a Western Quickstep, but dropped the pace to something slower as the mixed couples got the feel of each other. Rod murmured something to Agatha and she quickly felt comfortable in his arms. Well, more than comfortable. Rod was surprised and a little dismayed as the woman began to press herself against him more and more tightly. When he felt her actually start to grind her crotch to his groin, Rod looked around nervously for Sabah. He caught her eye nearby and she winked.

Fortunately there was a break between songs and Rod was able to slip from Agatha's ardent grasp. Although they were not necessarily the most attractive women there, Rod found himself asking one after another of Melanie's friends to dance. The pattern with Agatha repeated itself, indeed it got worse. Rod introduced himself to Agatha with the mumbled addendum and the woman practically went into rut. Grace Witherspoon danced him into a corner and dragged his hands down to her rather too-ample ass. Marjory Simms groped his crotch, but Rod put it down to the frustrations of widowhood. Darlene Gresham managed to get Rod's hand into her blouse and Lord knows what would have happened to her bra if another break in the music hadn't rescued him.

When he finally stood before Melanie, she looked up at him with a cold smile. "Why not Roddy? We'll dance, but just because you're a pretty boy, don't expect me to come onto you. I'm not an overage teenager like them." Melanie tossed her head in contempt at her companions who were now dancing like cats in heat with their delighted husbands.

"What's wrong with a man and wife having fun, Melanie? Besides, ..."

Melanie gave a little gasp as Rod finished speaking. "Er... nothing, I guess," she said and slid a little closer into Rod's arms. True to her word, Melanie did not throw herself at him as the other women had, but she seemed to be in some sort of torment. The music had picked up the tempo and Melanie was becoming visibly excited as Rod turned and twirled her. She was double- stepping the beat and flinging her arms into the air as if in some sort of jungle frenzy. Soon perspiration had soaked her silky blouse, revealing a bra straining to contain Melanie's impressive superstructure.

When the set ended, Rod led a panting, fiery-eyed Melanie back to the table where Sabah was now sitting with Charles. Sabah seemed to be just finishing up something she was whispering in Charles's ear when Sabah nudged him. Looking up and shaking his head as if awaking from a dream, Charles's eyes lit up as they fell on Melanie. It was a Melanie he had not seen in a long time, if ever. Her eyes were wide, her nostrils flared. Everything about his wife screamed that she was hot and needed to be fucked. It was a look Charles had longed for and he rose and took her in his arms.

"Good work, baby. Want to see how good?" Sabah giggled as she led Rod away from the pair who were starting to paw one another. Suddenly Rod noticed the entire ballroom was almost deserted. Most had left, having drifted home to bed but not to sleep, he suspected. In a few corners couples were making out, but it wasn't a few bared breasts and hiked skirts Sabah wanted to show her mate. Giggling softly she tugged him toward a lounge area.

To his shock Rod saw Melanie's entire set of friends - but never like this! Agatha Chriswell was on her back, her heals in the air, mewing and humping as the pudgy Raymond Chriswell was fucking her like there was no tomorrow. "Yes, Ray baby hard! I need it!... Harder... HARDER!"

Grace Witherspoon was also on her back, but was not so happy. With both hands she had a death grip on the head of a man -- Rod was pretty sure it was Arthur Witherspoon -- between her legs as she complained. "Keep it up, you bastard! . Oh, yes, like that. Work that tongue, damn you! I need to get FUCKED, dammit. Uuuuh shit, how much longer 'til that god-damned Viagra kicks in?"

Marjory Simms had no such problems. The too-thin red-head was fully on board the cock of a grunting, heaving black man that Rod recognized as the trombone player from the band. "Oh, yeah baby. Give me more of that cock, you animal! Ooohhhhh, YES! So fucking BIG... Uhhhhngggg... like that, right up in there where mamma's pussy NEEDS it! I'm taking you home, honey. You're gonna make me ...Aaaaiiiiieee!" the bouncing woman squealed as she climaxed.

Darlene Gresham wasn't saying much; how could she? On her knees, her face was in the crotch of an astounded waiter, sucking him as if it was her first drink after crossing the Sahara. Meanwhile, a very exercised Rutherford Gresham had his hands on Darlene's upturned ass and was pounding away vehemently at his wife's gushing pussy, making her groan with each thrust.

"Take THAT, you bitch for never wearing miniskirts and heels as I wanted you to, and THAT for always turning the lights out when we fuck!" he spat as he slammed into her again. "And THAT for only doing it on weekends!" Rutherford was obviously releasing a lot of long pent-up frustrations. "And THAT." Rod winced at the force with which the seemingly mild-mannered accountant was ramming his prick into his whimpering wife's dripping cunt. "THAT's for never letting me kiss and suck on those COW tits of yours and THAT," Rod was afraid he was going to injure the woman, "Is for never letting me eat this FUCKING HOT PUSSEEEEEYYY!"

Sabah tugged Rod's hand again to depart the mini-orgy. He took a step toward the exit, but Sabah smiled and motioned with her head back toward the ballroom. There on the table where she had sat, was Melanie, moaning with arousal, her knees bent and her drenched pussy open to Charles rampant prick. Her husband was teasing her, brushing her pussy lips, giving her tiny pokes that made her squirm, running his rather impressive member up and down his writhing wife's slit. They appeared to be renegotiating their relationship.

"Yes, Charles, anything, baby! Just fuck me. ... God, I need it so bad. No, I'll never refuse you again, promise, I promise! Huh? No, not that!" Charles seemed to slow his attack. "No, Charles! Please, baby, don't stop now. I need to be FUUUCKED! All right, yes, Yes YES! Fuck me and you can make me pregnant. What? Noooo ... oooh ...Yes! Two, three, anything darling, as many babies as you want. Keep me pregnant all the time, but FUUUK MEEEiiiiiieee!"

"Let's go, Love," Sabah almost growled. "I'm hungry!"

Perhaps she had planned it all along or perhaps the orgy she had orchestrated triggered it, but Rod saw that Sabah was about to Feed. "Hurry, darling! Get me home."

Sabah had been wild in the car, insisting that she drove so Rod could use the front slit of her gown to eat her. The car swayed each time he brought her to orgasm and he prayed she would slow down. They arrived in record time and alive, fortunately. Sabah had almost torn off her clothes and his, getting him in bed. There was nothing slow and romantic about THIS Feeding. Sabah TOOK him. Screaming with passion she threw herself down on his cock over and over. The sexual frenzy of her Feeding communicated itself to Rod who humped back with almost superhuman stamina. The scene appeared that of a she lion devouring a gazelle, except this prey was larger than the predator and it was doing everything possible to BE devoured. Rod had blacked out at the height of their simultaneous orgasm.


Yes, that had been one of the best ones, Rod mused, waiting for Sabah to come in with breakfast -- she always brought him a big breakfast for him the morning after a Feeding. And enough time had passed for the results of Sabah's prank to become evident. Within days of the ball, the wardrobes of Agatha, Grace, Darlene, Marjory, and of course Melanie had improved dramatically. The five women organized a joint shopping trip to Tyson's Corner and came back with two SUVs packed full of miniskirts, push- up bras, almost-illegal blouses, fuck-me heels, stockings, and an assortment of sleepwear guaranteed to keep a husband, or in Marjory's case, a growing roster of boyfriends, from sleeping. Arthur Witherspoon, Raymond Chriswell, Rutherford Simms, and Charles Landsworth couldn't believe their luck. Suddenly they had wives who not only dressed like women during the day, they fucked like minxes at night.

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