The Blue Viper Files Ch. 05

"You two have been much use to me," said Madame Sasha. "But stop being useful, and do not be surprised if you lose me. Become a burden, and do not be surprised if I discard you. Become a pain, and I will not hesitate to remove you."

Madame Sasha stepped closer and whispered something in Betsy's ear. Ben only caught the name "Esther," but Betsy's eyes widened. She nodded quickly and agreed to whatever Madame Sasha said without hesitation.

"Yes, Mistress," she said. "Sorry, Mistress."

"Sorry, Mistress," muttered Ben.

"Good," said Madame Sasha. "You both are only as useful as what you can give me. Betsy, you may entertain me, but become a brat and I'm no longer interested. Malen'kiy, I need as many private conversations with Lindsey Sterling as you can get me. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress," they said at the same time.

"In the meantime, Betsy will attend me, and Ben will be a perfect employee. In a few weeks, you will both throw a party and invite Lindsey Sterling. I will be in attendance." Madame Sasha looked at Betsy. "If you are good, you may invite Esther. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress," they said in unison.

"Good. Let us begin."

Madame Sasha stepped away from her clothing as Ben picked them up. He carefully folded or hung them and did the same for Betsy's clothes. As he did, Betsy moved into Madame Sasha's embrace, and the sound of the two women kissing filled the room. Ben closed the door and moved around, lighting candles and turning off lights as Betsy began to moan. His cock tried to stiffen at the sound, but it strained against his cage.

When he was done preparing the room, the two loves of his life were already on the bed. Madame Sasha was on top, slowly thrusting her hips against Betsy's pussy. Ben moved to his stool, which Madame Sasha left in the corner, and sat to watch Madame Sasha make love to his wife.

They were both beautiful in the candlelight. Madame Sasha was a tapestry of tattoos. Words covered her body in a sleeve along her right arm, on her breasts, down her stomach, and all over her thighs. Ben watched the tattoo of Sinja on her thigh, the one that slithered up to her clit, its forked tongue meeting the top of her pussy. It writhed as Madame Sasha thrusted, grinding her clit up against Betsy's.

"She's already wet, malen'kiy," said Madame Sasha. She liked to talk to Ben while she fucked his wife, to remind him of his place, to emphasize what he had given her. His cock throbbed and tried to expand, but the cage around it held back the blood and flesh.

Madame Sasha pulled Betsy up and kissed her. The hands of his Mistress roamed over his wife as both moaned into the kiss, letting their tongues wander. Betsy moved down, kissing Madame Sasha's throat, and then the collarbone of her Mistress, getting closer to her breasts.

"What were you doing today?" asked Madame Sasha. "Who got you so wet?"

Ben wanted to speak, to say he knew Betsy wanted to fuck the neighbor. He knew all about Betsy's growing appetite and her hunger, but Madame Sasha had forbidden him to speak during these sessions. He could watch, but he could not touch or speak unless she gave him explicit permission.

"She wants to fuck your neighbor," said Madame Sasha. "But not just her. No. She wants to fuck women. All the women. Isn't that true, kukla?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Betsy. She gasped as she pulled away, then attached herself back to Madame Sasha's breast. Madame Sasha moaned, her stomach rolling, her hips thrusting, as she melted under Betsy's touch.

"You're still in love with her?" asked Madame Sasha. "Answer me."

"She's the love of my life," said Ben.

"Then put her in position for me."

Madame Sasha got off the bed. Betsy whimpered as her goddess moved away. Ben rose from his stool and helped Betsy off the bed. Madame Sasha lay down on it, spreading her legs wide, moving her hips and pussy forward to the edge. Ben took hold of Betsy, brought her to her knees, and guided her face to hover right in front of Madame Sasha's smooth pussy.

"Grab her hair," commanded his Mistress, and Ben obeyed.

"Tongue out, kukla." Betsy obeyed. "Keep it flat." Betsy adjusted.

"Fuck me with your wife's face," commanded Madame Sasha.

"Yes, Mistress," said Ben. He stood behind Betsy, her hair tight in his hands, and tugged, guiding her tongue to press against Madame Sasha's pussy, then pulling back in Betsy's hair, forcing her tongue to stroke the pussy. He repeated the action, guiding Betsy's' tongue, fucking Madame Sasha with his wife's face as though her tongue were a vibrator.

"Mmm, that's right," said Madame Sasha. "Fuck me with your wife." She laughed, and the sound delighted Ben and Betsy. They lived for Madame Sasha's laughter, for those moments of pure joy when she no longer commanded them, when she was not poised and statuesque, but when she was a person, someone they could worship, yes, but someone they were in love with. The love of their marriage.

They found new vigor. Ben shook his wife's head from side to side, and Betsy licked with passion, both of them giving into their lusts. Betsy ignored the pain on her scalp as Ben pulled. Ben ignored the humiliation of giving his wife away, of using her to please his Mistress. All that mattered was the way madame Sasha writhed on the bed, the way she gripped the sheets, the sound of her moans filling the room as her two loyal servants pleased her.

Ben's cock strained as Betsy got more into it, moaning along with Madame Sasha. As his Mistress came, clutching her thighs and screaming, he only had eyes for Betsy. She was his world. Nothing could change that. Madame Sasha gave him a purpose under her control, but Betsy gave it meaning. Betsy gave it context.

She kept licking even after Madame Sasha came, and Ben had to pull her away as Madame Sasha whimpered for her to stop. Ben loved the look in Betsy's eyes, the passion, the dedication, the urge to push further, to go deeper. That was his bride, the woman of his dreams. It was the woman relentlessly pursuing Esther, the woman that had a legion of online followers worshipping her, and the woman that commanded his attention and respect.

Once Sasha came, she sent Ben back to the corner. He watched as his Mistress licked his wife's pussy, wondering out loud who else had tasted her, who else besides Ben had enjoyed his wife. Each tease caused Ben's cock to strain against his cage, but he didn't obsess over it. He wasn't here to be humiliated as hot as it was. He was here for his two women, here to see his wife free and in her element.

He didn't regret giving her to Madame Sasha, but as he watched her enjoy herself, as he knew she would spend tomorrow pining over Esther while serving his Mistress, his only regret was being denied his bride again and again.

***

Later that night, while Madame Sasha and Betsy snuggled, Ben was sent to get ice cream for them. He didn't hesitate to go, thrilled at another chance to serve. But as he ordered at the ice cream shoppe, the adorable girl behind the glass counter reminded him of Betsy. She had the same smile, the same eyes, and the same laugh. When he looked at her, he saw his bride as he remembered her on their wedding day, when they dated.

As he paid, the woman behind the register looked strangely like Betsy too: the same frame, the same hair, and the same voice. He called her Betsy as he walked away, and she didn't blink. For a moment he thought she was his wife, surprising him behind the counter for a private joke.

But that was impossible. Betsy was at the corner outside the shop, talking to a bunch of friends. She was riding by on a bike, heading towards a movie theater. She was each and every woman around him, all of them blurring together, all of them beautiful, all of them reminding him of what he had given away in service to his Mistress.