The Hunted


Warning: This story contains graphic scenes depicting pain.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.


The Hunted

Chapter One

I'll admit it. It's a guilty pleasure. I was sitting in a Starbucks with my strawberries and creme frappuccino. I know it's a girly drink but I'm a girl so I'm entitled, right? Even though I'm 35 I still occasionally act like a teenager. It's my alone time to reflect on the day and what was important to me. And of course I couldn't help it if my mind wandered once again to Samantha, the only person I've ever truly loved. I'll never get over her.

How long ago was it? It was probably close to three months. Samantha was the best I'd had and it was a damn shame her boyfriend decided to move back to Texas and that she picked him over me. I was thinking about her "girl next door" innocence in the way she looked and acted. As we discovered together it was just a thin veneer covering a smoldering mass of unrequited kink. I could still smell the hint of jasmine from her perfume and feel her fine auburn brown hair running through my fingers. I could vividly see her youthful soft lily white skin, rounded breasts with long nipples that begged to be nibbled and pinched, and that oh so delicious junction between her thighs that hid her real treasures - - treasures that I plundered over and over in my playroom.

Three months was enough time to wait. I needed another. Like Sam.

I was tired of playing the pretty real estate broker with the fake smile with no outlet for my real passion. You'd probably seen my face plastered on the panels of grocery store shopping carts and the back cover of throw away magazines. Yeah, that's me. The pretty willowy blond with long wispy hair, a heart shaped face, cute tailored jacket and the skirt that shows just enough leg to get you interested but not so much as to suggest that I would do anything to get a commission.

But I digress. My real passion. My daytime job required me to suck up to everyone - - my clients, other brokers and agents, and their clients. It was all about closing the deal, and closing the deal required you to sublimate your real desires to say what's really on your mind, to throttle your client or the agent on the other side of the deal, or to just walk away because life's too short. When I punched out from my day job I wanted to be the one in control. I wanted to dictate the action. And I wanted the person who was with me, man or woman, to want to obey me. There were so many people out there with submissive tendencies and so little time.

Samantha was one of those people that was yearning to be controlled by someone who did it consciously and with purpose. It was her dirty little secret.

In other words she wanted me. She just didn't know it yet. I was the one that could fulfill all her deviant fantasies.

But she was full of surprises as welI. I didn't know how hard I'd fall for her.

And me? I'm not soulless. I had a mother. Everyone's just wired differently. Most want to be controlled. Some want to control others. I just happened to fall into the latter category. I couldn't point to anything in particular in my gene pool or my upbringing to explain it. And love? I'm not sure how other people feel love. For me, my kind of love was all consuming. I wanted to know everything about the other person. I wanted to know what they felt. I wanted to unlock their hidden desires - - to bring them out into the sunshine with joy and not with shame. And for those that understood and sought my kind of love the level of passion was unimaginable and undeniable.

And the first time I saw Samantha? I just knew what I wanted and right then I wanted Samantha. You would have too if you saw her.

We met quite innocently, or so she thought. It was an open house in one of the many tract houses that dot the endless prairies surrounding Denver. Samantha and her boyfriend Grant were looking for a starter home. I was the listing agent and was holding an afternoon open house on a pleasant summer Sunday in June. As soon as they walked in I had a strong sense that Samantha was going to be mine. Don't ask me to explain it. It's a sixth sense I have, and when I saw sweet Samantha, a comely brunette, looking like she just walked off the cover of a J Crew catalog in her red striped boat neck t-shirt, faded form fitting designer jeans and matching red leather sandals I had to have her.

I showed them the house and then let them wander around while I attended to other lookers. I kept an eye on them to make sure I snagged them on the way out. About fifteen minutes later I saw Grant and Samantha descend the central staircase.

"Was everything OK?" I asked sweetly.

Grant stepped forward to answer from them. "We liked the house but it wasn't exactly what we were looking for."

"And what would that be?"

"Maybe a one story. Sometime soon Sam and I are going to get married and have kids so I think a ranch might make more sense. We do like this neighborhood though. Isn't that right Sam?"

Sam nodded demurely in agreement.

"Do you have an agent to help you?"

"No we don't."

"Well, I'd be happy to help you. I have a lot of listings in this area and I'm sure I can find a house that meets your needs." It's a spiel I'd given a thousand times.

"Aren't you Jennifer . . . . I can't seem to remember your last name but I know I've seen you before."

"Jennifer Reston. And yes, you've seen me before. I advertise quite a bit and my picture is also on all the lawn signs. I pointed to the one in the front yard.

"Yeah, yeah, that's right. Pleased to meet you. I'm Grant and this is my girlfriend Samantha." Grant spent about two seconds too long looking down my silk blouse, which of course was strategically unbuttoned to allow the men to have a free look at my 32C's. It was clear he enjoyed the view.

"Why don't you give me your contact information and I'll be in touch if I see anything in this neighborhood that might be of interest." We exchanged phone numbers. Grant and Samantha walked away from the house, but not away from me. Grant enjoyed the view of my tits. I was enjoying the view of his girlfriend's soon to be mine ass.

I actually am a pretty good real estate broker. Aside from all of the bullshit I do have a lot of listings and I do keep my ear to the ground. I got wind of a nice ranch about three blocks away from the open house. The house hadn't hit the market yet, but I knew the listing agent, Maggie, who was also a visitor to my "playroom." Maggie was a 40ish divorcee with some serious self-esteem issues. I was her crack. She would do anything to be in my playroom with me, and I do mean anything. I spent hours with her teasing her big MILF tits, paddling her ass and making her worship my toes. But Maggie and I did not connect emotionally so in a broad sense we were more like fuck buddies, but there wasn't a whole lot of fucking. Maggie gave me the heads up that she'd take me and my clients there whenever we were available. I knew Maggie would work around my schedule because Maggie was still hopeful for another visit to Jennifer's magic palace.

I called Grant's number. "Hey Grant, I think I've found the perfect listing for you. It's about three blocks away from my open house and it hasn't hit the market. If you want first crack you're going to have to get over there as soon as possible. What's your schedule like over the next three days?"

"I'm free tomorrow but have to travel out of town the following two days. Could we do it tomorrow?"

It's funny how I was suddenly unavailable tomorrow. I waited a minute so that Grant would think I was checking my calendar. "I'm sorry Grant. Tomorrow is the only day that I can't do it. Is Samantha available?"

"Let me get back to you."

I got a text message back an hour later telling me Sam was available and giving me her cell phone number. It's always nice when the sheep offer up one of their own voluntarily.

I called it. "Sam? This is Jennifer."

"Oh yes, Grant told me to expect your call."

"Are you available day after tomorrow? I understand Grant will be out of town."

"Yes, actually he has to go back home to Houston for a week to take care of some family matters. But I can take some personal time off from my job at the bank."

"Oh, what do you do?"

"I'm a bank teller."

She told me that they lived about two miles from my house. I graciously offered to pick her up and she graciously accepted. I told her that we might catch dinner after words. We had a date for 4 p.m., the day after tomorrow. I got back to Maggie and hatched a plan for Samantha's fall from grace.

I was liked a caged cat the day before our meeting. I was pacing in my office and driving the other folks crazy. I couldn't keep my mind off Samantha. The unvarnished innocence. The latent sexuality. She was just biding time waiting for someone like me.

On the day of our meeting I carefully chose my outfit. Dressy casual but not over the top. Black silk blouse with the cuffs turned up. Two buttons unbuttoned to show my cleavage, but not too much. A black lacy demi-cup bra so the tops of my breasts were visible. Black silk pants and black pumps with 3 inch heels. I let my hair down so it flowed over my shoulders. My natural hair color was dishwater blond but I highlighted it to more of an ash blond. My guess was that Samantha was in her mid-20's. That made me about ten years older. It was a perfect match for what I had in mind.

Promptly at four I pulled up in front of Grant and Sam's apartment building. Just another nondescript garden apartment building where couples like them were skimping and saving for the chance to break out of indentured servitude to their landlord. I made sure my black Porsche Panamera had a quick wash the day before so it would look its best. I wasn't at the curb more than a minute when Sam came bounding out of the front door of the apartment building's lobby. I lowered the passenger window and leaned over to call to her. I wish I could have framed that visual. The broad smile of recognition, the wave of the hand, the tousled hair, the slight bounce of her breasts and the ruffle of her dress. I knew then that I had made the right decision.

Sam slipped into the front seat of the car and was immediately impressed by the understated elegance of her surroundings. I knew I would get that reaction. I tote my clients around all day and I know what they expect a successful real estate agent to drive. It's a bonus that I actually love the car. She was somewhat breathless, which only added to her charm. I clasped her hand in mine and told her how happy I was to see her. I probably lingered just a few moments too long but I couldn't resist the feel of the youthful soft tight unmarked skin of her hands. Sam was wearing a floral printed dress with a black background cut about six inches above the knee with a scoop neck that showed just a hint of her C cup breasts and black open toed sandals with two inch heels. I could swear I tried on that dress before. It looked better on her than it did on me. Her auburn brown hair fell about 10 inches past her shoulders and had a slight curl at the end. She flashed a smile at me and batted her copper color eyes. I had to exercise all of my willpower to resist the urge to take her right there in the car. She was that ravishing.

Off we went to the house. It was a ranch style house owned by a couple that was transferring out of state. Maggie was leaning on her car and waved as we pulled up. Maggie was wearing what we had discussed. She was wearing a black silk crepe mini-dress that showed off her delicious 34DD breasts and legs to their best advantage. She accompanied her dress with ochre colored platform sandals that accentuated her height (she's 5'3") and the line of her legs. It looked like her make-up was professionally applied and that her short honey brown hair was recently coiffed. Probably over the top for a house inspection but not for what we had planned later.

The house was well kept and the owners were at work and the kids were still at child care. It was perfect for Grant and Samantha. It was a perfect place for safekeeping my future treasure. Maggie would help me make this happen for them.

We went room to room with Sam expressing her delight with the layout, the airiness of the rooms, and the plethora of windows that welcomed the afternoon sunshine.

I knew I had a sale when Sam started the visualization process. We'll put the sofa here. Wouldn't our dining room set fit great over there? When we have kids we could build the swing set over there. Maybe we'll need to replace the countertops in the kitchen. I let Sam wish and visualize to her heart's content. I was watching Maggie while Sam was carrying on. It was clear that Maggie was also interested in Sam. She wasn't blind. She knew I saw her first but she was already counting on whatever scraps of Sam's attention I would be willing to dole out. That was enough for her.

By the time Sam had played out it was 5:30 p.m. I of course suggested that the three of us catch dinner at my favorite seafood restaurant, which also had the best martinis in Denver. I had conveniently already made a reservation for 7:00.

We arrived at the restaurant an hour early so we went to the bar. We all ordered the house specialty martini, which was fabulous, and carried the remainder of the second one to our table. As we were seated the sommelier handed me the wine list. Thankfully Samantha drank wine. I ordered a high end sauvignon blanc to accompany our raw oysters. The oysters tasted amazing with the sauvignon blanc. Sam had never experienced a world-class sauvignon blanc before and the bottle was finished before our appetizer plates were cleared. After two martinis and our first bottle of wine we were all in a cheery mood. We had Sam talk about herself and learned that she was 25, was raised Mormon, although now not active in the church, and not surprisingly had pretty strict parents and a domineering father. To accompany our fish entrees I ordered a chardonnay. We finished the first bottle halfway through the main course and re-upped on it. We were laughing about men won and lost (I refrained from talking about my love of women). Sam told us that she only had a handful of boyfriends before dating Grant and that all of them were "nice" guys. And with Grant she felt "safe."

I didn't know it at the time but I was already falling in love with her.

We were feeling no pain after three bottles of fine wine so I called a taxi to go to my house for dessert and left my car in the street for retrieval the next day. My house was custom built for me in a fashionable suburb of Denver. It was exactly what I wanted, urban modern. Stainless steel railings and poured concrete outside. Glass wall and stained mahogany exteriors. Metal roof. On the inside it had stained concrete floors on the ground level. The house had a large master suite and two guest bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, and a living room, dining room and kitchen, all on the ground floor. The kitchen had a large expanse of yellow granite with windows overlooking the mountains. I was a foodie so it had a complete array of stainless steel appliances and a large baking center. And downstairs was where the fun was. It had a temperature controlled wine cellar and next to it was a locked playroom. No, I wasn't Christian Grey's female counterpart. God help me I wasn't as fucked up as he was.

I do enjoy baking as a stress reducer and the previous evening I made my favorite chocolate brownie torte. If sin was chocolate this torte would be adultery. I pulled out a port from my wine cellar to accompany dessert. I used my cut crystal cordial size glasses for the port. I told Maggie and Sam that the glasses belonged to my late mother and were given to me by her shortly before her death (which was true). The combination of the dinner, the wine, the dessert and the port put everyone is a giddy mood. The conversation of course turned to sex. Maggie droned on about her divorce and how all men are shit. I told Sam (Maggie has heard all of this before) that I've never been married but have been in a number of failed relationships. I worked a 24/7 business so it really deflected most of my time away from having a real chance at a long term relationship. Sam was cajoled into telling us that her sex with Grant was strictly missionary position but that it was "fine."

Having heard Sam's confession, the repressed upbringing, the domineering father, the milquetoast boyfriends, including her current one, she was overdue to unleash her sexual repression.

As we were clearing the table Maggie dropped one of the crystal glasses on the concrete floor. It shattered immediately. I went to the utility closet to fetch a broom, dustpan, mop and bucket. We were all a bit tipsy so we had to be extra careful in handling the broken glass. We swept and mopped the floor to make sure every shard was accounted for. After the clean-up Maggie approached me. I was sitting in an overstuffed armchair in the living room. Maggie dropped to her knees on the oriental carpet and kissed my shoes. Sam, who was sitting next to me in another overstuffed armchair, watched in shocked amazement at this turn of events.

"Please forgive me Mistress. It was a perfect evening and I've ruined it for you. Please punish me."

Even though it was part of the plan Maggie was quite convincing because she was showing true contrition for the loss of a beautiful piece of heirloom stemware and because she'd been dreaming about what kind of punishment I would mete out for her misdeed.

This was the critical juncture of this seduction. I turned to Sam while Maggie remained with her lips on my shoes. "Sam, what would you do to punish Maggie for dropping my precious glass?"

Samantha was tongue tied. "I . . . I . . . I don't know how to answer that question."

"Well, let me ask it to you this way. If it were you that dropped this glass, what would you deserve as your punishment?"

I could see the wheels turning in Sam's eyes. The alcohol helped her summon her latent desires around submission and punishment. I could see them welling to the surface. "I . . . I . . I would think that I should be spanked on my bare bottom."

"Sam, you're thinking exactly what I was thinking." I actually lied. I was dying to try my new flogger on Maggie's inviting ass.

Before Sam could react further I told Maggie, "Lay across your Mistress's lap and receive the first part of your punishment."

Maggie eagerly got up and lay across my lap. I pulled up the hem of Maggie's dress to reveal a lovely set of black lace panties. I'm sure she was wearing the matching bra. She lifted up slightly so I could easily slide the panties down and over her ankles. Now her bare bottom was offered to me for her pain and my pleasure. Sam was mesmerized by what was unfolding in front of her. She unconsciously leaned over in her chair towards us to get a closer view.

I took Maggie's panties and showed Sam the large wet spot on them. "Sam, Maggie gets excited at the prospect of being punished by me. Look at this wet spot on her panties. Her body always tells the truth."

I held out the sopping wet panties toward Sam. "Did you want to touch Maggie's panties?"

Predictably Sam pulled back. "Uh . . . uh . . . no. I don't think so."

Her voice was wavering. I knew she wanted to say yes but she still didn't trust us completely with her inner feelings.

"Well, why don't see if you change your mind later. In the meantime why don't we have Maggie hang on to them for you." I put the panties in front of Maggie's mouth and she immediately opened it so I could wad them in her mouth.

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