Sammee Ch. 07

Chapter Seven

I woke suddenly with that strange, "where the fuck am I?" feeling you get sometimes.

Then I smiled, remembering.

I stretched and rolled onto my side, looking at my big, beautiful, betrothed.

Christ, she was a mess. The shit, puke, and snot had dried into a crust where it wasn't just matted in her hair. The bruise on her cheek had swollen. I thought she looked wonderful.

Then I caught a glimpse of the clock and said, "oh shit."

I had overslept, something I hadn't done since basic training in the Air Force. The clock said 7:58 and I had a 9:00 class.

I gave Sammee a shake. "Come on honey," I said, "I gotta get moving and need someone to wash my back."

She mumbled and snorted and coughed. Sammee isn't a pretty waker either.

I rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom and set the shower running on hot.

I went back into the bedroom where she had rolled over but that was it.

"COME ON!" I said, slapping her ass hard, "I need someone to wash my damn back."

She groaned and giggled and reached for the covers. I snatched them away and grabbed her ankle with both hands and pulled back with all my weight.

"DAVIDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!," she cried, but she was giggling.

So I hung on to her ankle and started tickling her feet making her squeal.

"Okay, okay, okayokayokayokay," she squealed, kicking her feet and starting to laugh uproariously.

"Oh shit," she said, giggling and peeing.

I tried to stay out of the stream but wound up wet from the belly button down.

"Come on," I said, "I've GOT to get moving."

"Why?" she asked.

"I have class," I said, "didn't I mention that I'm a TA at the university?"

That stopped her.

"A what?" she asked.

I laughed and said, "I'm a Teaching Assistant, and in," I looked at the clock, "54 minutes I have to be in front my 30 freshmen, now GET MOVING!"

She rolled out of bed.

What a vision. Her tits were pretty much covered in shit and puke. Her hair was matted. Her mouth was ringed with crusty snot. Her thighs were wet with her piss.

She looked good and I got immediately hard.

I grabbed her hand and led her into the big walk-in shower.

We soaped each other, giggling a little but still hurrying.

"Shit," I said, drying quickly and looking at the clock, "I don't have a thing to wear here."

She looked me up and down and said, "come with me."

In a bedroom I hadn't yet seen she opened a closet and it had men's clothes.

"The ex's," she said, "I keep them around as a reminder."

I grabbed a shirt, a bit too big, and a pair of khakis, a LOT too big and found some socks in a drawer. When I started to dress she tapped me on the shoulder.

"Don't think you're getting out of here without this," she said, showing me the cock cage she had bought when we stopped at the adult toy store.

I stopped and thought. And surrendered.

"Go ahead," I said, "but I need to get going, I really do."

She showed me the device and said, "are you sure you want me to hurry?"

"Ummmmm, no," I said.

Back into her bedroom she got out a tube of K-Y jelly and ran a thick bead down the length of the urethral tube. "Deep breath," she said as she started inserting the tube.

It was an interesting sensation. It wasn't really painful but there was pressure as the curved tube forced my dick into a downward pointing quarter circle. She screwed the tip on, smiling as she did so, and said, "you'll be peeing sitting down." Then she locked the circle under my scrotum and clicked the tiny padlock, draping the key on a necklace that she wore.

I threw on the clothes, nothing fitting well but better than my dirty clothes, grabbed her hand, grabbed the chastity belt and quickly cinched the belt, leaving rolls of fat bulging above and below the stainless steel belt. I passed the chastity guarantee between her legs and locked her in, hanging the key on my own necklace.

"Ummm," I said, feeling a bit foolish, "can I take the 409."

She kissed me and said, "of course. I am yours and what's mine is yours."

I touched her cheek, swollen and bruised. "How are you doing to explain this?" I asked.

"Explain?" she asked.

"When you see the doctor about giving me your milk," I said, giving her breast a lift and a light squeeze.

"Ohhhhhhh, that," she said.

"Yes," I said, "that."

She grinned.

"I actually have thought about it and I hope I can handle it on the phone," she said, "I know my pussy doctor pretty well and I think he can tell me what I need to do."

"Okay," I said and kissed her quickly, "and now I HAVE to run."

I drove the Beast (I was starting to think of the outrageous 409 Chevy as "the Beast") as fast as I dared. Campus was across the city and although it wasn't the heart of Denver's outrageous rush hour, traffic was heavy. I walked into class as the bell rang, a bit breathless.

As a teaching assistant, working toward my Master's Degree in History, I handled two classes of American History 101 per semester. Dr. Smith (no, that's not his real name) was responsible for a weekly lecture while I handled a weekly written assignment and discussion sessions trying to drag uninterested college freshmen into actually thinking about the nation's history.

As a quasi-teacher I had to maintain office hours and as a student I was taking classes. It made for an intersting day. I got through the first discussion, the history of the Second Amendment, always good for lively discussion in this pacifist group. Then my office hour from 10:00 to 11:00.

I was grading the weekly written work (a summary of an article) when a light knock tapped at my door. It was Alicia, one of my freshmen, one of my old "type" if it matters.

"Mr. Morgan," she said, batting her eyes, "is there anything I can do to improve my grade?" As she talked she was slowly raising the hem of her already short skirt until she proved she was a natural blonde by putting her full bush of curly light brown hair on display.

Five days ago I'd have traded a B for her pussy and an A for her asshole. Now, although I felt a little twinge in my dick that quickly turned to pain when the urethral tube bit in, I wasn't even interested. Instead I gave her a line I remembered from a long ago Clint Eastwood movie.

"Well, Alicia," I said, trying to make my voice as husky and sultry as I could, "you could do this. Go home this evening and take a warm bath. Then put on your sexiest nightie," as I was talking her smile was getting wider, "open a bottle of wine and pour a glass, light a candle," and here I paused for dramatic effect, looking her up and down, deliberately allowing my eyes to linger on the delightful bush.

"And open your books and study," I finished.

I watched her face as she worked it out and then turned in a huff and left.

I chuckled and went back to my paperwork.

I suffered through my History of the Constitution Class.

Then I went to the library and checked out a couple of books I needed for a course paper on The Age of Jackson.

My second section was at 2:00 and I was done at 3:00.

I headed over to my apartment and packed my duffel bag, a leftover from my enlistment in the Air Force. It's not like I had a lot of stuff but I threw some socks, underwear, shaving stuff, toothbrush and the like. My work uniform, oxford cloth button down shirts and casual khaki pants were on hangers and I threw them into a hanging bag, another Air Force relic.

I looked around, wondering if I would be back more than once to get the rest of my stuff and headed back to Sammee's, what I now thought of as home.

I parked in the garage, grabbed the duffel and went in the back door.

And there she was, dressed in an apron and her chastity belt, working around the kitchen.

Christ she looked good. Her hair was done. Her makeup perfect. The high heels did GREAT things for her legs. And her smile, when I said, "Hi honey, I'm home," would have done June Cleaver of Donna Reed proud.

The bruise on her cheek, swollen and obvious, didn't seem like a blemish, it seemed like a beauty mark.

She came to me, big and beautiful, powerful, and took me in her arms.

"I wasn't sure all day that you'd be back," she said after kissing me almost frantically.

I chuckled and and said, "I wasn't about to spend the rest of my life with this on," and I reached down and touched the cock cage.

She giggled and touched her belt.

"Yeah," she said, "I had that thought myself."

"So," she said, smiling, "shall we leave them on? Dinner's almost ready."

I grinned. "I can stand it if you can," I said.

"You're on," she said, "go wash up."

I lugged the duffel and hanging bag into our bedroom - I was thinking of it as ours.

I stripped off my clothes, washed my face and hands, and went in to the kitchen dressed only in skin and the cage.

"Oh no," she said, "I want you to see how good it can be."

She led me into the dining room, a room I had only glimpsed so far.

The formal table was laid out with actual ceramic plates, glasses, a small three piece table candle set in the middle, and a big tossed salad in the middle.

She led me to the chair at the head of the table.

"Do I please you?" she asked.

"More than you can know," I said, and I meant it. This was beyond anything I had ever pictured.

The dinner lingered. The salad, then a steak with baked potatoes and spinach.

And we talked, that was the most interesting thing. That first weekend together had been so focused on sex that we hadn't really talked much. She seemed interested in what I was studying. I was fascinated that the divorce settlement had left her pretty well off, but she had found a web site and now wrote papers for lazy college students. As we talked about things it soon became clear that, beyond opening a whole new world to me sexually, she was also plain smart. It seemed to me that she had accumulated the equivalent of at least a half dozen master's degrees although her own formal education had stoppped with her Bachelor of Science in Education (secondary social studies). She had written papers on subjects from astronomy to greek literature.

When I told her of Alicia she giggled and asked if I had been tempted. When I said, "no," she said, "and much to my surprise, I believe you."

After dinner I helped her clean up. I did NOT snap her ass with a wet towel.

"Now," she said, when we were done, and she was kind of dancing from foot to foot like an excited little girl, "come with me."

In the bedroom she lifted her boobs and dropped them, making an audible littls slapping sound.

"They already feel fuller," she said, "do they look it?"

So I looked at her tits, very closely, inspecting them, lifting them, squeezing them gently, playing with her nipples when the areolas tightened into wrinkled little cones.

I kissed each in turn, sucking each nipple very gently, and the stepped back.

"What am I looking for?" I asked.

She giggled again, high pitched, sounding like she was about 10 years old.

"I've been to the doctor and shopping honey," she said, giggling a little more.

"Oh?" I said, starting to get it.

"I couldn't do it on the phone so I went to his office," she said, smiling. She touched her face where it was bruised and swollen. "God, I loved the looks I got," she said.

I waited her out.

"So I spun Dr. Bob that yarn, my niece being pregnant but not wanting her boobs to fall, all of that," she said, giggling, "I don't think he believed a word of it, but he said okay."

She went on to describe the examination in detail. She giggled and actually blushed when she told me how he had wanted to give her a gynecological checkup but she had to explain that would be impossible, how she had lifted her skirt to show him why, and how he had looked at her in a new way after that. She told me how he had touched, but not commented on the marks on her ass, still red, and the little hickeys on her boobs and thighs as he gave her a more general checkup before going over what was involved in inducing lactation. She blushed even redder when she told me how he had said, "sure, sure" in obvious disbelief when she told of her fictitious niece.

In the end, he had written a prescription, four actually, and had "the talk" with her.

"My body thinks it's pregnant," she said, describing the hormones she had started taking, progesterone, estrogen, prolactin, and oxytocin, "because I'm overdosing like a crazy woman on the hormones. Anyway it will think it's pregnant soon."

I looked at her boobs again but didn't see any change.

"Annddd," she said, "giggling again, I got this."

She reached down and pulled out a little plastic case from under the bed and opened it with a magician's flourish.

There were tubes and bags and I had no idea what I was looking at.

She giggled and pulled out one of the flat plastic cones and pressed it to her nipple.

I groaned and bent over, my cock straining to get hard bringing me a pain that was exquisite in how perfectly focused it was on one spot.

"Oh," she said flashing the Grin, "I finally got to you, did I?"

"Please take it off," I said, bent over, holding myself as if I had just been kicked in the nuts.

"I don't know," she said, the Grin broad on her face, "you're kinda cute this way."

I moaned and got to my knees, kissing her feet.

"Please," I whimpered, only partially acting, this was HURTING.

"Suck my toes," she said, obviously reveling in her power over me.

So I took her right foot in my hand and started with her little toe sucked it gently, ran my tongue between it and the next one, and looked up at her. "Please," I groaned.

She was in full power now. "You have nine more to go Bunky," she said.

I moaned and went back to her feet. I knew better than to hurry so I did each toe, carefully, thoroughly. Sucking it first and then licking between it and the next one. When I got to her big toe I sucked it, gently, moving my head forward and back, trying to look as much like she did when she was sucking my cock as I could. When I looked up she was smiling down at me, not the Grin but a real smile.

By the time I finished with her feet I realized I was finding the pain in my cock erotic. On some level I liked it. So I continued what I was doing, covering feet and ankles and shins and calves with kisses. When I got to her knees I smiled up at her, meeting her eyes, and said, "I am yours."

"Do you want out of your cage?" she asked and I realized that what I said next was absolutely true.

"I want out when you think it's time," I said.

She smiled and patted the bed beside her.

So I crawled up, aching between my legs but happy.

"This," she said, showing me the flattened cone, "is supposed to be lubricated with vaseline to make a good seal. But I have a better idea."

I watched as she put her forefinger in her nose and worked it around, her eyes closed, obviously enjoying herself.

She came out with a long, stringy rope of thick, clear snot.

I wanted to take it into my mouth and my attempted erection throbbed.

"But I think this works better," she said, slowly lowering her finger so the snot circled the flat cone. She placed the teat cup on her nipple, reached for the box to which all of the tubing was attached, and flipped a switch. There was a whir of an electric motor, a clicking sound, and as I watched the cup latched on to her nipple and with a steady whoosh-click sound would pull the nipple in and release it.

Her breath caught and she closed her eyes.

I could see her relax then, accepting, and her eyes opened.

"Would you like to do the other?" she asked.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh yeah," I said, scooting up farther and getting to my knees, and then sitting back on my feet.

My finger went into her nose and I probed feeling, finding the start of her mucus plug as I irritated sensitive tissues. Her eyes were wide, on mine, as I slowly worked at it, feeling it building under my fingertip.

I started pulling, very gently, very slowly, my dick aching more as the clear thick string emerged, hanging loosely between her nose and my finger.

When it fell loose I did as she had done, making a circle in the teat cup, pressing the cup to her nipple, and finding the proper switch on the machine. Again it latched on and started working her nipple.

I could smell her excitement, her pheromones strong, making my cock hurt more.

I went back into her nose with a finger and she went into mine. For the next half hour - the pump's timer was set at a half-hour - we picked each other's noses and ate what we found.

It was oddly sensual if not particularly sexual.

We both jumped a little when the pump stopped.

She used her finger to break the latch of one and I followed her example with the other.

Her nipples were distended from the pressure. I thought they looked terribly sexy and demonstrated by quickly sucking on each.

She was suddenly serious.

"Make love to me David," she said, reaching for the key around her neck.

I stood and she unlocked me. As soon as it was free I sprang erect. I looked down and saw the opening was oddly open, distended, after the tube had been in all day.

She stood and I just looked for a few seconds.

"Please," she said.

I traced the line where she bulged around the steel of the belt that cut into her softness, making her shiver a little.

I undid the chastity strap that went between her legs but left the belt in place.

"Please," she said again.

"I don't know," I said, "I kind of like the look,"

"Baby," she said, her voice high pitched and whiny.

I crooked my finger, beckoning her and she came to me. I smiled and unlocked the belt. The line where it had cut was distinct and red and, I thought, very sexy.

She was grinning as she mounted me, settling onto my erection and accepting me into her body. The Grin turned feral again as she let her weight engulf me and then lifted her belly, letting ot slap down with an audible smacking sound.

Her finger was in her nose again and as her hips rocked, bringing me along slowly, she fed me snot in thick clear rope after rope. I slurped noisily, deliberately making noise as she fed me.

I was getting close and she said, "wait for me."

I was learning control, and held on until she gushed over me, her release making her body go rigid, her mouth go open in a silent scream, and her fingers hooking into claws grabbing my shoulders.

"Don't stop," I panted.

She was sweating now, making us both slick.

She came again, hard, her body arched, head thrown back, snot running down her chin to hang, making me lick my lips.

"Don't stop," I grunted as her weight hit me again.

"Fuckpig," she cried.

So I slapped her.

She came like a garden hose. I thought she had lost her bladder control but the scent was pure womanscent.

She grabbed a pillow and covered her face with it so she could scream and not have the neighbors calling the police.

Her breath was in little shuddering gasps by then, sweat pouring off of her, clearly she was exhausted.

"Again," I said,

"I can't baby," she said and I slapped her again.

She was crying then. "I can't baby," she said, "I'm sorry."

"Okay," I said, reaching around her as far as I could, "let me have your weight."

She settled onto me, her warmth and softness surrounding me, with a contented sigh.

And I remained hard, inside of her, our bodies one, hers almost absorbing me.

I felt her breathing slow and she took a few deep shuddering breaths before lifting herself enough to look down at me. The drool and snot from her nose and mouth were irresistible and I opened my mouth greedily, tasting her, drinking her.

She grinned.

"You pervert," she whispered.

"Your pervert," I replied, working those muscles low in my belly, the same ones that tightened my asshole when I needed to, making my erection move inside of her.