The Submissive Temp Ch. 10

Finally, the conclusion of this story!

For those of you who are still reading this far into the story, thank you for your interest, your loyalty, your comments, and your stars! Any last comments will of course be more than welcome, be they public or private. Like most authors, I suppose, the biggest thrill for us is to be read. Being appreciated is gravy! Thank you, JB Edwards

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I'm going to live. Rivonine is working. I don't even have an STD. Life is good. I went to see my parents' neighbor, Mr. Glassman. He was excited to see me, and he complemented me on being all grown up. I think he meant my boobs, which no longer had the promise of a teenager's budding femininity, but the power of a grown woman's boobs and their full allure.

It was cute the way we verbally danced around his sexual exploitation of me during my teenage years. Sure, I had been willing; I was more than willing, I had been enthusiastic. Now I knew though that it was the cursed De Chevalley virus giving me sexual needs and cravings much more than any intrinsic sluttiness of my personality. There was no way however that I could explain that to Mr. Glassman. I didn't even try.

And, I still had the virus, and it was still making me crazy with desire. The Rivonine I was still taking added to the mix of sexual need and cravings. Mr. Glassman had a nice cock, and he knew how to use it. That was not why I had returned, bit it was something I had no intention of ignoring!

Mr. Glassman was curious about why I was back. He was more than curious, and while he tried to be subtle, it was clear he wondered if I were still willing to go to bed with him. He found out soon enough.

The first time was amazing. Mr. Glassman had stolen my virginity years ago when I had seduced him. After that I fucked him and all the 'friends' he could find, almost on a daily basis. I knew his style; my time with Mr. Glassman was like feasting on the comfort food of my childhood. Who needed Dove bars when I had Mr. Glassman's cock inside me?

When he first gently, hesitantly, almost fearfully, lay on top of me and inserted himself inside me, I groaned. It was a genuine groan of pleasure.

"Oh Sally, you are so wet!" he told me.

"I can't resist you, Mr. Glassman," I moaned out as he pumped inside me.

"Call me Craig," he said.

"No -- oh, oh! —you're Mr. Glassman, and you always will be!" I managed to groan out as his cock picked the pace and also more force. "Oh, my goodness, you're even better than I remember!"

After that exchange, Mr. Glassman, aka Craig, was silent while I was loudly moaning up a storm. As his fucks got more forceful, the decibels of my moans increased. At the end when I came a second time, I was screaming with all the force of my strong lungs. This time Mr. Glassman did not pull out and squirt all over my tummy as he did when I was 18. No, this time he unloaded his jism deep inside me, over and over again. I loved feeling his penis squirt inside me. It's always been a thrill. He wasn't using a condom, either, I realized much too late.

I lay there, Mr. Glassman on top of me, his full 200 or so pounds pressing down on me. It felt so good, even if I was a bit crushed and having trouble breathing deeply. Eventually I gave a little push and he cooperatively rolled off me, and we both breathed heavily.

After around five minutes of lying there, side by side, I sat up, bent over him, and took his lovely and messy cock into my mouth. I cleaned off his cum and my juices, swallowing them down. I discovered I was not a big fan of the way my own vaginal juices tasted. But I won: I got him hard again, and that had been my goal.

Mr. Glassman had never fucked me twice in a row before. I had thought nothing of it when I was 18, because I did not know any better, and besides he seemed always to have one of his 'friends' waiting in the wings for his own turn with the slut of the neighborhood. So I was especially pleased we were going to have a second fuck. It was like going home again.

After the second time he had fucked me, and we lay in bed together, I reflected about how much I enjoyed older men.

"How many of your friends did I fuck when I was eighteen?" I asked.

"I don't know; quite a few, Sally. You're still great in bed," he said. "Indeed, if anything you're an even better fuck now."

"Why, thank you. You're better, too. Been practicing on some new teenage slut?"

Mr. Glassman looked guilty.

"Who is she? Don't worry -- I'm at least five years older if she's 18 and doubtless don't know her," I said.

"Saralee Michaels," Mr. Glassman said.

"Oh my goodness!" I exclaimed. "I dated her brother Adam!"

"So too did Saralee, apparently," Mr. Glassman said.

"What? What are you talking about....oh!" I said, the lightbulb finally turning on.

"Her father too," Mr. Glassman said.

"Oh, poor little Saralee!" I said. "She must be quite messed up. And you're taking full advantage, aren't you? Do you farm her out to your 'friends', too?"

I saw his face. I knew. "You're disgusting, Craig Glassman," I said, with pure contempt in my voice.

"I know," Mr. Glassman gleefully replied.

"By the way, Mr. Glassman, how much did you charge your friends to fuck me?" I asked. I did not really know if he had sold my sexual favors to his friends, but I suspected it. I now knew that he had, though, if only by the look on his face: shock, horror, and fear, all together right there on his face. "Did you declare the income to the IRS?"

Mr. Glassman was at a loss for words. I began to giggle. "It's okay, you greedy, old lecherous bastard. Want to make some more money? I'm still a horny little slut, you know," I said.

"Is that why you're back? To extort me? Or to get me to be your pimp?"

"Mr. Glassman! How could you think such a thing of me? What have I ever done to you, other than let you take me to bed whenever you wanted to, and serviced all of your friends with a smile on my face?" I said.

He was silent.

"No, I'm here because I need a lawyer, a really good one. I seem to remember fucking two or maybe three that you set me up with. The litigator liked to tie me up, remember? You took pictures, as I recall," I said.

"Why do you need a lawyer?" Mr. Glassman asked. "A messy divorce, perhaps? One of the lawyers is a divorce lawyer."

I giggled again. "Good guess, but no, not yet. That will come I suppose, but right now my husband does not know about my current whoring ways. By the way, out of curiosity, how much did you charge your friends to have sex with me?"

"Once word got out about how you would do anything they wanted, I could have charged as much as I wanted. Men my age loved fucking a teenage slut, no offence," he said.

"None taken. That's exactly what I was: a teenage slut. No longer. Now I'm a 23-year-old slut," I said. Own my shame, that's me.

Mr. Glassman just stared at me. It was hard to read his face, but I guess maybe he had an expression of awe? Shock and awe, that's me!

"I need a lawyer for contract law. Torts and such," I said.

"Well then, Samuel David is your man. And yes, he's the guy who tied you up. I'm afraid his taste has gone to the even more exotic in the last five years," he said. "More scatological, you might say. Not even Saralee can handle him."

I remembered my time with Andrew, Maria's hubby, when he had me urinate inside the bathtub, and fucked me in the bathtub while I lay in my own urine. He capped off the fun when he urinated on my boobs. "Well, I have a little experience with such things. It's okay. Give him a call, would you please?"

Samuel David, Esquire, Attorney at Law came over, together with his perversions, in under half an hour. I had gotten dressed and so was presentable. While I spoke with Counselor David, in an attempt at a disguised maneuver, the counselor slipped Mr. Glassman $700 and he looked at me with a look of pure lust in his eyes. So, Mr. Glassman had raised his rates by $200!

"I don't fuck for money for you, anymore, Mr. Glassman. Craig, give him back his $700," I said. Mr. David looked both surprised and hyper disappointed.

"Don't worry, Mr. David. I still fuck, just not for money. I want payment in kind. I need some legal advice," I said, and Mr. David smiled, as the lump in his pants became more pronounced. Suddenly, I remembered. He was the friend of Glassman's who had the huge cock. I had refused anal with him for that reason, but I did everything else, and I did it with a smile.

We reached an agreement. Soon I was naked and tied to the bed. I was on my back, spread eagle, and the two men had their cameras out. Glassman had a video camera. They were clearly into my humiliation and degradation, but they could not hold a candle in their imagination to what Dr. Jack Taylor had already put me through.

They did have one innovation however that was new to me. It was kind of like an electric cattle prod. As Mr. David lay on top of me fucking me, he would occasionally rise up off me and that was apparently the signal for Mr. Glassman to apply the electric shock to my belly. My body would react by rising up off the bed, shaking and quivering, and my breathing changed. Once the shock of the prod caused me to orgasm. The shocks, combined with Mr. David plunging his humungous cock deep inside me, drove me nuts. I gasped, screamed and then moaned with arousal. Mr. David fucked me a long time. I had three orgasms and was panting heavily by the time he shot his load deep inside me. He had refused to wear a rubber.

After the sex session, with me still naked and still tied up, a young man entered the room, and Mr. David introduced his son Philip. He shook my hand, even though it was bound. Not knowing what else to do, I smiled at him. "Would you like to fuck Sally, Philip?" his father asked. I wondered if Philip was even 18 yet?

"Aren't you going to ask me?" I said. I admit, I was in not in a great position to say no, being naked and bound hand and foot, but still, I felt this was a decision I should be a party to! Without my permission it would be rape, and Mr. David was a lawyer, after all.

"How about $1,000, and of course the legal advice, Sally?" Mr. David asked.

Truth be told, I found the situation highly erotic, and the idea of fucking for money only heightened the eros. I had never fucked a father and son back to back before! "I told you, I don't fuck for money. I'm not a whore. I'm just a slut," I said.

"Nevertheless, you get the money. Consider it a gift. Give the lady a kiss, Philip," Mr. David said.

"Dad, please leave the room. Mr. Glassman, can I have a shot glass of Tequila?" Philip said.

Philip poured the Tequila into my vagina, and then he proceeded to slurp it out, at the same time eating me divinely. I was beginning to appreciate Philip's bedroom talents. I quickly climaxed under Philip's ministrations, and as he undressed he answered one of my lifelong questions, which was: does a father's big dick mean his son has a big one too? The answer was no. Regression towards the mean, I guessed.

Still, Philip's cock was big enough! He wasn't a virgin, and he knew how to use it. It's hard to say who enjoyed Philip and my fuck more, but I have to think the edge goes to me. I was in sexual heaven.

"Do you and your Dad do this often?" I asked, as we lay together in post coital bliss.

"Do what often?" Philip asked me back.

"Tie up a girl and then double team her, while Mr. Glassman over there makes a video of it?" I asked.

"No, we don't. This was a first for me. Thanks, Sally. This was fun. Can I see you again?" Philip asked.

"Sorry, Philip. I'm a married woman," I said.

"Your husband is a lucky man. I've never had a woman as wet as you, as velvety as you, with as sweet a cunt as yours. My goodness; I think I'm in love with you," Philip said.

"Given your age, I'm sure you have a small basis for comparison. Anyway, Philip, you're in love with my pussy, not with me. You don't even know me," I said. "If you were, you would have known enough not to speak of my cunt. It's too vulgar a word for my taste."

Philip looked at me and arched an eyebrow. He must have thought here I was, naked tied and bound whore, and complaining about his vulgarity of language? Really? Luckily, though, except for his arched eyebrow he kept those thoughts to himself.

"You know, Sally, you're still a legend at the high school. They say you blew half the senior class, and fucked their fathers, too. You're legendary, and now I've fucked you. This is mind blowing. I'm about to become a celebrity! Don't tell me I don't love you. I do," Philip said.

"Don't believe everything you hear, Philip," I said. "Now how about you untie me? I have some business to discuss with your Dad."

"Promise you'll give me a blowjob after I untie you, and I'll do it," Philip said.

I was annoyed, but also I was helpless, all tied up, naked, and full of cum. "Okay, deal," I said.

"Oh yes, and here's your extra $500. Let's not forget that!" he said.

After I blew Philip to his extraordinary delight, Mr. Glassman took me again, and then I finally got dressed and went to the next room to meet with Mr. David.

Three hours later I had the papers I needed. Mr. David struck me as being a talented lawyer. He had thought of every possible imaginable eventuality, and he had written the contract with all those things in mind. I signed it, and he put a post-it on it indicating where Dr. Taylor would need to sign.

I explained the situation to Dr. Jack Taylor, the CEO of Genomeds. I had a way to temper the effects of Rivonine and turn it into a female Viagra. Such a medicine would be worth a small fortune, assuming I was right, and that Genomed's chemical engineers could get it to work. Dr. Taylor signed the contract happily, and then we sealed it with a kiss and a fuck, and then a second fuck.

I went to work the next day, and when it was time for my weekly tryst with Mr. Criens, I told him I had made progress on the Rivonine issue. I told him the whole story, and that if my idea worked out, the stock price of Genomeds would go through the roof. It would take time. The Genomeds scientists and engineers would have to figure out how to do it, the proportions would have to be tested on live volunteers, and the FDA would have to give its approval. I guessed we were talking two or three years down the road. It was wise to buy Genomeds stock now and to play the long game. I wanted to stay working there, and on the payroll as a reward for my efforts, which required a sexual sacrifice, as he well knew. Of course, secretly, at least for me and my disease, it was no sacrifice at all!

Dr. Criens was thrilled with my success, and he rewarded me with a romantic dinner and a Viagra infused wild session in the bedroom. God, I loved the way that man made love to me. I so wished we were both not married!

I made my way home after our tryst in the Hotel Carlyle on East 76th Street, and I crawled into bed, happy and full of Mr. Criens' cum.

You know how on occasion you're aware something's not right in the home? You don't know what it is, but there's something wrong. Maybe it's a slight transient sound, or a smell that's off, or something is not quite the way you left it? It's one of those uneasy feelings that you cannot put your finger on, and cannot be sure about? I had that. I lay in bed, hoping for sleep, but lay awake uneasy. Something was not right.

I heard the soft voice. "Hello, Sally. I've been waiting for you. Hot date tonight?"

"Hello, Philip. How'd you learn where I lived?"

"It's on your driver's license, silly girl. I took a cell phone picture of it while Glassman and you were getting busy. Breaking in was child's play. You should get better locks, you know," Philip David said.

"First thing tomorrow. What do you want?" I asked.

"What do you think?" he said with a sickening smile. "Here's another $500 for you."

"Sorry, Philip. I'm all fucked out, and I'm full of another man's cum. Rape me some other time, okay?"

"I'm not going to rape you, silly bitch. I'm paying. I just put $500 on the bed, you know," Philip said.

"For rapists in my own home who pick the lock and break in, the rate is $5,000," I said.

"I thought you might say something like that. Here's another 90 Benjamin Franklin's," Philip said.

His math was bad. He was giving me $9,500, not $5,000. I figured that was his problem.

"Seriously? You want to pay me $5,000 just to fuck me?" The idea turned me on something fierce!

"No, of course not. I'm paying $5,000 to fuck you up," he said.

"That makes sense, I guess. Okay, Philip, for $5,000 I'm yours. Do with me what you will." The blow came suddenly and I remember nothing after that, but when I finally woke up I was naked, tied up, sore all over, and I knew I had been taken repeatedly. My ass was really sore. Philip was sitting in a chair looking at me. I could only see him by using my peripheral vision.

Once Philip saw I had rejoined the living he came over and stood in front of me. My head hurt like hell. "Did you know that you cum even when you're unconscious?"

"No," I said. "Why would I know that?"

"You came three times while I did you. You even orgasmed when I took your sweet ass," he said. That's why it hurt.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked.

Philip just sneered at me and fluttered the ninety Franklins all over my tummy. Then he left.

I banged on the wall in Morse Code. My neighbor, who had served in the Navy and knew Morse Code, banged back. He came over and found me on my bed, naked and spread eagle, with cum all over me, money all over me, and cum leaking out of my pussy, too. He said nothing, but thank goodness he freed me from my bondage.

Too late, of course, I quickly covered my nudity with a robe. He wanted to call the police, and I had a hard time talking him out of calling. Instead, I called my lawyer Samuel David, Philip's father, and told him what had happened. I'm sure what Mr. David did to Philip was worse than anything I could have imagined!

I next called a locksmith.

I finished the Rivonine regimen. I got permission from my boss Mr. Criens to take a few days off so that I could fly to Singapore to see my husband Mark. I was looking forward to telling him of my affliction with the De Chevalley virus and that I was now well on the road to recovery. I pictured our celebration with champagne coming out of our ears and bedroom romps galore!

I surprised him with my visit, which I now realize is never a good thing to do with a lover or a husband. One should always give some warning. Apparently, his Singapore paramour did not know Mark was married. Seeing her angry, naked, and throwing things, I admired her body. She was a skinny Chinese woman with big boobs, skin as smooth as silk, and glistening black hair. Her best feature was her gorgeous face. Her worst feature was that her pussy was leaking my husband Mark's cum as she screamed at him.

You'd think it would be hard to get into high dudgeon due to Mark's indiscretions after I had fucked every man I could get my hands on. It wasn't hard to do at all. Emotions, especially emotions related to sex, do not need balance or consistency or guilt. They just exist. They're just there, and one has to deal with them.

As for me, I knew I had an excuse of course, namely the virus and its treatment of Rivonine, but still! We had a long talk, the three of us. Her name was Lola. She had chosen it in China when many students choose an English name towards the beginning of puberty. She was twelve years old at the time. Now she was 25, two years older than me.

Lola and I left Mark and went to the bar at the famous Raffles Hotel. I ordered a Singapore Sling. What else could you do at the Raffles Hotel? The drink had been invented there! I was playing with fire, drinking alcohol while still taking Rivonine, but I was upset, as anyone should realize! Lola had a Singapore Sling, too. I couldn't fault her.