Veronica's Secret

"Yes, Master." Veronica was melting inside. Getting paid for sex was one of her deepest fantasies. The idea of a man being willing to pay for her body and her skills made the endorphins in her brain spurt out like a fire hose. She had always thought of it as a perfect confidence boost. Her legs quivered as she awaited the next step. Michael picked up his cell phone to start texting someone. A minute later, Ronnie heard footsteps coming down the stairs. A man walked into the living room. He stopped directly in front of her.

"Mr. Davis, this is Vicky."

"Good evening, Vicky. It is a pleasure to meet you. Michael has told me many nice things about you."

"Vicky, this is Mr. John Davis. He is an old friend of mine. I help him out with certain aspects of his affairs occasionally. John has been married for forty years, but his wife has been frigid for the last twenty. They have a mutual agreement that he may seek relief elsewhere as long as he never has intercourse. I told him that you would be happy to assist him with that goal tonight."

Veronica looked at Mr. Davis, checking out the attractive mid sixtyish silver-haired man standing in front of her dressed in a suit that this former Neiman Marcus saleswoman guessed cost ten grand. The tie alone was $500, with another $2k for the Italian shoes. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a multimillionaire. She was impressed enough to tremble slightly at the thought of trying to please someone so far above her caste. The quivering stopped when she saw the desire for her in his eyes. The girl was ready to work.

"Mr. Davis, I am honored to meet you."

The wealthy businessman gazed adoringly at the beautiful young woman who had an air of sweet sexiness that he found very appealing. The aristocrat loved her simplicity, her reliance on natural beauty over a decorative facade. She was everything Mr. Davis wanted for an hour because this patrician knew he could not have a sensual goddess permanently at his side. He dropped to his knees in front of her with an outstretched hand holding a wad of cash.

"Vicky, take the money and count it; this is a business transaction that must be done correctly in every way," the director ordered his sub.

She took the pile of fifties, counting out ten of them for a total of $500. For one hour's work! The neophyte giggled to herself as she felt a rush of sinful delight rip through her body. She was glad to take it because she was worth every fucking penny! Damn right! Now it was time to prove it. Vicky did not wait for further instructions. 

"Thank you, Mr. Davis. I will do everything possible to accommodate your needs. If there is anything special that you'd like, please tell me." 

Vicky slowly unbuttoned the front of her dress before allowing it to fall off her body to the floor. She stood there posing before the beggar on his knees, looking up at her with adoration in his eyes. As she unhooked her bra from the front, he raised his fingers to her panties, sliding them in one smooth motion down her long silky legs. He touched her lightly with his fingertips. The happy hooker noticed the glazed watery look in his eyes as he felt her body. She was enjoying her first trick.

"Vicky, would you lay down on the blanket for me, with a pillow under your ass, please?"

"Absolutely." She got into position as he removed his jacket and loosened his tie. 

Still on his knees, he leaned forward to put his mouth on Vicky's clit, licking at it, swishing it around inside his mouth. He began to eat her with considerable skill, demonstrating his experience at pleasing a woman in this loving way. She watched him pleasuring her, seeing and feeling his desire to please a woman even if he was paying for it. Vicky started to succumb to his talents, letting out some chatter that she thought might turn him on.

"Yes, oh fuck! Eat me, Daddy, eat me. Oh, that feels so good, eat your little girl, eat me, Daddy, eat me!" 

She knew right away from the increased urgency of his thrashing tongue that her words were hitting home. It turned her on, revving her engines, loading the chambers. After more moaning and heavy breathing, she let loose, streaming into his face.

"Daddy! I'm coming! I'm fucking coming! Eat me, eat me, eat me! Fuck, Daddy eat my pussy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! I want you, Daddy, I want you! Fuck Daddy, I want you!"

Mr. Davis was stunned by the incredible reaction. He bathed in her fluids, soaking in the pleasure of her satisfaction. He crawled up next to Vicky, asking sweetly in her ear if she would give him a slow handjob.

"Certainly. If that is what you like, sir, I will be glad to give you one."

She unbuckled and unzipped his pants, sliding them down to let his cock out. She then unbuttoned his shirt to expose his chest, planting her mouth on his right nipple, eliciting a grateful moan. Vicky grasped his cock lightly in her hand, stroking it in a slow rhythm to get him going. She put her lips to his cheek, whispering sweet phrases of praise into his receptive ear while rubbing her fingers around the head of his cock. 

"I'm so glad I can please you, Daddy. Yes, I am glad this little girl can make you so feel so good. You deserve this, Daddy. Yes, you deserve to be stroked like this. I want to be your little girl, Daddy. I want to be your only little girl." As she sensed him getting close, she squeezed harder, moving her hand like a jackhammer. Her client screamed out as his body wreathed in the most powerful orgasm he had had in decades. 

They lay still in each other's arms for ten minutes or so. The housemaster then needed to enforce the rules. 

"Ok, the hour is up. Mr. Davis, I hope you have enjoyed your time, but Vicky must prepare for her next customer. Please tidy up. If you wish for more sessions in the future, you know how to get hold of me. Thank you!"

Before disengaging, John snuggled up to Vicky one last time, whispering: "Sweet girl, I would be most appreciative if I could have your panties." She picked them up and wiped her pussy dry with them before handing them over. In return, her first paying customer slid five crisp one hundred dollar bills into her hand. 

Vicky smiled. "Maybe we can meet again sometime, sir. Thank you." As he left, she triumphantly stashed the $1000 in her purse. After cleaning up and putting the dress back on, she stood there smiling at her Dominant, obviously pleased.

"All right, little girl. A true pro takes the money and moves on to the next mark. Your next customer is a little different from your first. Are you ready?"

"I am, Sir."

Michael made a text. Very soon afterward, there was the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. A minute later, Attila Kowalski, the Vice President of the Western Oregon Chapter of the Hell's Angels, walked in. 6'5" tall, with long red hair and a scraggly beard, the behemoth carried 340 pounds of hard muscle beneath skin plastered in prison tattoos. He was decked out head to toes in black leather. Veronica was scared shitless, while her alter ego, Vicky, gasped with a delicious fear. 

"Get on your knees, bitch! Attila the Hun is here!"

Vicky instantly dropped to her knees, staring up at this terror of a man.

"I see she is wearing a collar. Does this cunt belong to you?"

"Yes, she does."

"Well, I got news for you, Jack. For the next hour, she belongs to me. I'm paying for the rights to her, and I'm going to take what I want."

"I have no problem with that, Attila. Just pay her first."

The Hun pulled out some twenties from his jacket. He crumpled them up, one by one, and threw them around the floor. He then yanked his belt from his pants, folding it in half and snapping it in a threatening manner. Vicky was scared.

"Collect the money, whore! Go ahead, crawl around like a dog and pick them up, all ten of them, you fucking tramp. They're all yours, and believe me: you are going to earn them. Do it." He swung the belt, whipping her ass, compelling her to move quickly to grab every bill. Vicky had the pile in her hands as she crawled toward a corner, seeking imaginary shelter from his wrath. Her Dom sat on the couch watching, slightly amused, knowing that Attila was putting on a show.

"Come here." Grabbing her roughly by the hair, he dragged her across the floor helplessly into the far corner. He opened his pants, pulling his penis out. The Angel from Hell plunged his cock into her mouth, shoving the seven inches down to the hilt on the first push. Vicky gagged as he rocked back and forth, choking on his erection, spewing out gobs of phlegm and saliva that dripped down her chin onto her dress. The gagging was made worse by his musty odor as it was clear he had not bathed recently. It was a display of ruthless force and aggression which the heretofore innocent housewife had never come close to experiencing. She was frightened, yet she knew she was safe, that her Master would not allow her to be hurt. In that she trusted, so she absorbed the harsh treatment he was doling out to her. 

Pulling back, the muscle-bound ex-con dragged her by her hair and draped her over the back of the couch. Lifting her dress, he lunged forward, penetrating deeply. Vicky felt every inch of him. And unlike the oral thrusting that was hard to handle, this was a scenario that filled her with aroused passion. It was a primal fuck: a magnificent brute of a man slamming into a fragile female who welcomed the savage power of her authoritative, dominant partner. It was a no holds barred return to the state of nature, animal sex in human form. To the depths of her soul, she loved every second of it, convulsing in several orgasms that rocked her to the core, building to a tumultuous crescendo when he released inside her. She collapsed on the floor from exhaustion when he finally backed off from her. 

As the hour expired, the biker went back upstairs. Veronica limped to the couch, bent over from the vigorous workout. She laid her head in Michael's lap. 

"Sir, I am so sore; I am not sure I can drive home. He pounded me very hard. It hurts so fucking good, but I can't move very well."

"Well, if you want, I can arrange a ride home for you. You can come and pick up your car tomorrow."

"How's that?"

"Attila's bike is outside. He said he'd give you a ride home if you need it. He's cleaning himself up a little. He should be back down soon. Of course, if you'd rather not, we can call a cab."

"Fuck no! Oh my god! You're shitting me! He's going to give me a ride on that motorcycle? Oh my fucking god! Yes, Master, yes, oh so very fucking yes!"

"Ok."

Veronica got to her feet, flexing, twisting, trying to work out the kinks. The soreness magically vanished. "Fuck yeah, I'll go for a ride!"

Attila came back down the stairs, looking refreshed. "Ahh, Vicky, what a sweet girl! I hope you're not too beat up. I'm really a cuddly teddy bear when you get to know me, but Michael said it was best to scare you and rough you up a bit. I hope I didn't go too far."

"No, no, absolutely not."

"Would you like a lift home? I was going to take a spin along the Columbia Gorge to get some air. It's beautiful late at night when there's very little traffic."

"Yes, I'd love to."

The girl who was hobbling moments before now had a spring in her step walking outside to the bike. It was the dream of her life to ride on a big bad motorcycle with a big bad boy driving.

"It would be best if you put this on; it might be chilly." He handed her a black leather jacket that fit her perfectly. They were ready to fly. Veronica hopped on the bike behind Attila. She suddenly remembered she had no panties under her dress, so her naked pussy was pressing down on the ribbed leather seat, but she was so revved, it didn't matter. 

"Hang onto me. If there is anything emergent going on, pound on my back."

"Ok, sir."

Veronica lit up the moment he turned the ignition. The sound, the vibrations, and the power of the motorcycle beneath her turned her on. Her life was a straight arrow; housewife, mother, sibling, church member, and more. People looked up to her for being good. But always being good made her want to be bad sometimes, which of course, was a prime driver in her connection to Michael. The illicit sex thrilled her. And now, she could be an outlaw, a biker chick in black leather, holding onto a societal outcast, giving the middle finger to the world, even if only for an hour. 

Attila left the upper-class neighborhood heading for the interstate that ran along the Columbia River. It was one of his favorite local routes to take when he felt like letting the bike loose. He knew his passenger wanted to experience a few thrills, and he was ready to oblige. 

It was a beautiful warm night with a full moon howling in the sky at 2 am. Veronica was ecstatic, feeling the wind whipping her hair around as the pair got on the highway. The experience of speed out in the open air on a Harley exhilarated her. She could see why people loved riding. There was a sense of danger, of risk, and a feeling of freedom that was intoxicating. She sucked it all in, holding on tightly to her Angel, sometimes giving him hugs while squealing with delight toward his ear.

Traffic was light as the Hun cranked the throttle, accelerating quickly. Veronica gasped as the Screaming Eagle broke the 100 mph barrier, a speed she had never experienced in a car. Still, he kept pushing, getting the needle up past 120. The rookie on the back felt like they were flying above the ground as she screamed with joy. The bike vibrated slightly, sending pulses into the seat that plugged right into her naked crotch. She gripped tightly onto her driver as low-level orgasms added to her extreme euphoria. It was a thrilling ride of a lifetime she would never forget.

At 2:45, Attila turned off the engine, coasting the last half mile to Veronica's house. He did not want to wake the neighbors. She gave him a deep French kiss of gratitude before saying goodnight. 

"Maybe we'll meet again sometime."

"I hope so."

Emily was enjoying a mildly romantic porno called "The Summer of 76" when her sister walked in. She took one look at the disheveled hair, the semen-stained dress, and the pronounced bowlegged limp to know that Veronica had had a lively night. 

"Should I ask how your evening was?"

"I made $1200 and went for a ride. Let's talk tomorrow, Emie. I'm done for the night."

....................

The time came when Veronica felt that she needed to reward Emily for the selfless sacrifices her sister was making so that Ronnie could continue with her clandestine affair. She spoke to Michael about it. Together, they came up with a plan for the August session.

"Ok, I'm here. I brought along a few DVDs to watch and some snacks for the kids. What are the plans for tonight? Did he send you a good set of Instructions?"

"Yes, he did. You are to call me when the session starts. You will turn the speaker on so I can listen to what is happening."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're going in my place tonight, Emie. The Dom is expecting you. He has special plans for you. Go and have a great time. I'll be listening. Enjoy yourself! You deserve it for all you've done for me."

"You've got to be kidding."

"No, not at all. I even told Michael some of the stuff that you like. You can stay all night too. There's no need to come back here. This session will also feed another of my fantasies. I get to be an audio voyeur while my favorite sister fucks my favorite Dominant. I will enjoy it too."

"Holy shit! My god, you're wilder than me now."

"I've had a good teacher. Go find out!"

Veronica spent a few hours listening to the session. She grinned with delight at what she heard, even taking out her vibrator a couple of times to secretly join the fun. 

.......................

And fun it was for two years, transforming this anxious, insecure housewife into a confident woman who reveled in her sexuality. The last session the two had was forever etched in her memory. Her Master tied her down to a massage table in a dimly lit room. She was made to wear dark sunglasses so that she might see only vague forms moving in black and white. Three men, including Michael, and a woman with large breasts came in and touched, massaged, kissed, licked, bit, ate, fucked, and sensuously teased her for several hours, transporting her on a magic carpet ride to the boundaries of heaven.

It has been said many times in many ways that all good things must end. Three days after this session, Veronica received the email that she dreaded. Michael was moving to Australia. He had found a partner in a business venture that he had long sought to pursue. This partner just happened to be a female submissive. Together they were buying a ranch in the Outback to raise kangaroos for their meat. Plans were already in place to market the exotic flesh on the internet. They were also discussing opening a restaurant chain called RooRibs in the land down under. 

Veronica was devastated by the news. For several months afterward, she cried despondently after putting her husband on the plane to Los Angeles. But as always, time healed the wound. 

She kept in touch with Michael through email. He suggested a plan to help her get through some of the pain. He had found that a Dom is a better Dom when he occasionally crosses the street into submission. Likewise, a sub can improve her game by now and then picking up a paddle. Desperate for ideas to relieve her depression, Veronica followed through. She placed an ad on the same website she had met Michael on, receiving over a hundred replies from willing submissive men. The novice Domme had fun whittling the number down. Finally, she agreed to meet one of them discreetly for a drink on a Saturday afternoon. She gave explicit Instructions for him to meet at a table hidden from view in the back of an obscure bar. 

Veronica sat at the table, anxious about the meeting. Like Michael, she insisted on exact timing for the meet. She watched her clock click to 2:00. Right at that moment, her husband Archie came around the corner. They looked at each other in total shock. Finally, he sat down opposite her, but neither was able to speak. Just then, a waitress came over to take their order.

Veronica broke the silence. "Bring us two Pina Coladas, please."