Morning. I sit at the kitchen table with my coffee and run through the day.
Delaney's on my mind. English Lit the young teacher with the blonde ponytail and the glasses, the one who lights up when she talks about Keats. Paul's been building the staff list, name by name, and she's near the top of it. Good addition, high potential fresh, pretty, and enthusiastic, everybody likes her. If I get her, the next one gets easier.
*System, Miss Delaney's stats.*
[Miss Delaney - trust: 60]
Sixty. Better than I expected. The pin's been on her since that first week, ticking away. But sixty isn't ninety-five, and if the pin really adds one trust an hour, she should be maxed by now. Something doesn't add up.
*System. Why hasn't the pin pushed her higher?*
[The Pin of Trust functions only within fifty meters of the user. Beyond that range, the pin is dormant.]
I frown. "Fifty meters? Why the hell wasn't I told this before? You've been running this thing since week one."
[You never asked, user.]
"...What?"
[In vernacular, user - I am your system, not your mom.]
I sigh and shake my head. "You're becoming more and more like the little sister I never had."
[Thank you for the compliment, user.]
"That wasn't a compliment, system. It was an expression of abject terror."
[...Noted.]
With the system chastised and the new info it provided, I return to the matter at hand. Fifty meters. I frown. I've been to the school maybe a handful of times this month, and never stood near her for more than a few minutes. Sixty is more than I should have gotten. Which means-
[Proximity to a follower operates the pin at ten percent efficiency.]
I sigh, exasperated. "System, would you be so kind as to give me all the information together when you are so thoroughly intent on fucking up my plans?"
[Of course, user. My pleasure.]
"...Thanks." I sigh again.
So, Paul. He's at that school every day, his office down the hall from her classroom. He's been ticking her up for me without lifting a finger. My own man, doing my work for me without either of us realizing it.
And it's not just her. The pins on Chen, Vargas, and Keller crawl along at ten percent too - Paul walks past their rooms a dozen times a day. At home, my presence covers the whole building, so any pin on any of my tenants runs at full rate, at least when they're at home. I'd been counting on hours, instead of proximity. That changes the scheduling, not the plan. The school is the only place most of these women are reachable, and Paul is the only one who has access all day, every school day. Fine, I guess I will have to be more proactive with my visits.
*System, show me all the "pinned" people at school.*
[Mrs. Higgins Secretary trust: 88]
[Mrs. Albright - Homeroom - trust: 44]
[Miss Delaney - English Literature - trust: 60]
[Mrs. Chen Art - trust: 12]
[Mr. Vargas Gym - trust: 12]
[Mrs. Keller - Librarian - trust: 12]
Higgins is nearly done - she sits outside Paul's office all day, so that tracks. Albright's creeping along.
The other three barely moved; not worth the effort - though Chen might rise if Delaney shares my thoughts about art in my prep school. Delaney at sixty is the one worth pushing. One or two real visits and she's in conversion range.
I finish my coffee and grab my jacket. I was going to see Paul anyway - it's time to give him the word about Mary.
At the school, Paul's in his office with a cup of coffee at his elbow. He looks up when I knock.
"Ben. What brings you here?"
I close the door. "Mary."
He sets his pen down. "Mary Hudson?"
"The one you were promised. She's willing, Paul. But take it slow. Honestly."
Paul blinks. "Willing?"
"Willing. She's a good woman, a single mother, just like you're a single father. You court her properly and let the town see it. It looks good on you, and it looks good on the school. Genuine. No games. Plus, her body is to kill for, just don't touch her."
He sits back in his chair. "I haven't done that in a while. Courted anyone, I mean."
"Then it's about time. You're a vice principal, a father, a man with a steady job and a clean record. She'll take care of the house and you can have fun outside."
He nods slowly, taking it in. "When do I-"
"She'll be here this afternoon. I'll arrange it. You just be ready to be a gentleman." I lean against the doorframe. "And before that Delaney. I want a word with her."
"Delaney? She is in the office, already warming up to you."
"She's the best of the batch. We get her, and the next one gets easier. I'll handle her, you keep building the list."
Paul nods, then gestures back to the first topic. "She's coming in this afternoon, then? Mary, I mean."
"Mary will comes in about Dana and Gina's progress. You and I will be there. You do your part - be the man she can fake marriage with, and have some fun outside."
Paul clears his throat. "Right."
I leave him to it and head down the corridor to Delaney's classroom. The door's open. She's at her desk grading papers, a strand of hair falling across her face. She looks up and smiles.
"Mr. Roberts. Back again?"
"Passing by. Hope mentioned she enjoyed the lesson on Romantic poetry."
Her face lights up. "She did well on the worksheet. She has a real feel for the imagery."
We talk for a while Keats, negative capability, the way a poem can hold a feeling without naming it. She's passionate, animated, her hands moving as she speaks. Lonely, too. She doesn't get much real conversation around here.
*...and I keep telling them, it's not about the rhyme," she says. "It's about the compression. You take a whole storm of feeling, and you fold it into fourteen lines. Anyone can write a hundred pages. It takes a poet to do it in one breath."
"Keats did."
he's listening to a bird, She grins, and it transforms her whole face. "Keats did. 'Ode to a Nightingale' and suddenly he's writing about mortality, about escape, about every ache he ever felt, and it all fits in eight stanzas. That's the craft."
"Poetry's underrated." I nod. "It's a shame."
"It is a shame. The kids glaze over when they hear the word 'poem. I spend the first two weeks just convincing them it's not a punishment."
"And the arts always get cut first," I say, picking up her thread. "Math and science are safe. Poetry's the first thing to go when budgets tighten."
"That's exactly it."
I let that sit a moment. "Funny you should say that. I've been looking at a property. A preparatory school. If it goes through, I intend to make sure the arts get their due literature, poetry, the full weight they deserve."
She blinks, caught off guard. "A preparatory school?"
"In the works. Still early. But I believe in the arts, Miss Delaney. A school that starves its English department isn't worth the name."
"Though if you want raw passion," she says, "the modern Hebrew poets leave the Romantics looking tame. Amichai would gut a feeling while Keats was still polishing it."
I smile. "After you left me, I let a dog smell at my chest and my belly. It will fill its nose and set out to find you."
*And I hope it will tear the testicles of your lover and bite off his penis. Or at least bring me your stockings between his teeth.*
She goes still. "...You know Amichai?"
I leave the second stanza unsaid but it hangs between us. She doesn't complete it either. Her ears burn red as she looks back down at her papers.
She recovers, smiles at me. "Good thing I have no lover, then."
I turn to leave, waving a hand at her. At the door, I fire my answer without turning around. "Then I would be more than happy to get your stockings."
She's frozen, staring at my back as I walk out.
[Miss Delaney - trust: +10]
[Miss Delaney - love: +6]
[Miss Delaney - horniness: +8]
...
The afternoon rolls around. Mary comes through the front entrance, the twins' working just as planned. Paul called her about Dana and Gina's progress, and here she is. She's in her work clothes, hair pulled back, a little nervous in that familiar way. Paul greets her at the door, all professional, and leads her to his office where I'm waiting.
"Mr. Roberts," Mary says, surprised but pleased. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Paul called me in. Your girls' progress is worth talking about the numbers speak for themselves."
She sits across from Paul's desk. They talk about Dana and Gina - the math scores, the homework habits, the Saturdays class.
I watch them. Two lonely people, both raising kids alone, sitting across a desk from each other. The pieces are already there.
I lean back in my chair. The town will see a respectable courtship on the outside.
...
Afterward I walk back to the car. I sit in the driver's seat a moment, watching the school in the rearview. Mary's in there, still talking to Paul, setting rules.
Evening's coming on. I start the engine and head home.
Mary's going to ask Katie to take the twins for a while. The public reason will be her workload it'll be the woman-to-woman ask, one mother to another, so it looks natural.
The real, real reason is that I can't wait to get my dirty hands on them. Hehe. That brings Dana and Gina under my roof. However, that's when the space problem hits. Ben, Katie, Hope, Hester, plus the twins six people in a two-bedroom is a squeeze.
The penthouse is the answer: the whole fifth floor, three apartments interconnected, plenty of rooms, and my dungeon already up there.
I picture the layout. Master suite for Katie and me. Hope gets one of the big rooms, Hester the other. The twins take a shared room with a double bed they've never slept apart, and they don't want to start now. The den stays mine, and the dungeon stays under lock. Mary keeps #6 on the third floor for now a tenant first, a guest later, a mother-in-law someday if she and Paul make it work. The building's mine, so every door I open stays open.
The move itself needs no explanation the penthouse is already my home, and the family moving in with me is nobody's business. Mary's request about the twins comes after, and by then it just looks natural: her workload, my spare rooms, a courtship that's clearly going somewhere. By the time anyone notices the arrangement has become permanent, it's already normal.
I smile, pulling out of the lot. Delaney's is getting wet, and the twins' are getting closer. What a nice day...
-x-X-x-
Morning. The smell of coffee, the sound of Katie humming in the kitchen, and a whole floor of empty rooms waiting upstairs. I sit at the table and let her put a cup in front of me before I drop the news.
"We're moving," I say.
Katie pauses, mid-pour. "Moving?"
"Upstairs. The whole fifth floor. Master suite for us, a room for Hope, a room for Hester and one more, for later."
She looks at me for a long moment. Katie's no fool; she's been in on this from the start, my first follower, the slave who knows my plans better than anyone. She reads the shape of it in three seconds flat, and instead of asking, she smiles.
"The girls will love it," she says.
"I'm counting on it."
Hope comes in first, hair mussed from sleep, and Hester follows a minute later, already dressed and sharp. I break the news over toast, and Hope freezes with a bite halfway to her mouth.
"Today?"
"Today. Three apartments up there, knocked together into one big one. You two get first pick of the rooms."
Hester's eyes go bright. Hope looks from her mother to me and back. "Can we see it first?"
"After breakfast. We'll go up as a family."
It's a good morning. The girls eat as fast as they can, Katie keeps catching my eye with that small knowing smile, and by the time the plates are cleared we're all standing in the hall with a hand on the door.
"Alright," I say, key in hand. "Ladies first."
The fifth floor has been waiting. The three apartments were united into one during the renovation when I took the building walls opened up, the whole thing turned into a single sprawling home. It's been mine ever since, and the light comes through the big windows like the building is showing off. Hope and Hester have seen pieces of this floor before the living room for both, the dungeon for both, and Hope a bedroom - but never the whole thing, never all of it at once. Seeing it through their eyes now makes it new again.
I lead them through in order. The living room first wide and open, with a couch that's going to fit all six of us one day. The kitchen, bigger than the one downstairs, with a breakfast bar and a stove Katie walks up to and touches like it's an old friend. Past that, the hall opens onto the bedrooms, each one its own space.
"Ben," she says, soft. "This is..."
"Ours," I finish.
Then the rooms. The master suite is at the end of the hall, and I open the door on a bed that's twice the size of the one downstairs. Katie goes quiet for a second, and I feel her hand brush my sleeve before she steps past me to look at the windows. She stands there a long moment, and I know she's already picturing us in that bed the two of us, the way it's always been, only bigger.
Hester walks to the window and looks out over the square. The view's the best in the place. She doesn't declare anything or stake a claim - she just nods, small and sure, and runs a hand along the empty closet rail like she's already picturing what will hang there. The room fits her the way she fits silence: without fuss, and with everything in its place.
The two of them take off down the hall, and I let them go, listening to their voices echo through the empty rooms. Katie comes up beside me and slips her hand into mine.
"They're happy," she says.
"They are."
"You made them happy." She squeezes my hand. "This whole thing you did it for them, didn't you?"
"For all of us." I look down at her. "Plus, we need more space for our family's fun times..."
Hope doesn't browse. She heads straight for the far door - the extra bedroom, the one with the door that's been closed since we got up here. She pushes it open and stands on the threshold.
I know the room. I know the bed. I know the exact spot where she lay face down with a magazine, weeks ago, an indignant kid who didn't think she needed a babysitter and got a handsy one instead.
Hope runs her hand along the doorframe, then looks back at me with a small, strange smile. "This one," she says. "I want this one."
Hester asks, obviously intrigued by her smile, "Why that one?"
Hope's smile grows. "This is where the magic started."
Hester looks at her, confused for a second, and then understanding crosses her face and she grins, "Then, should I go sleep in the dungeon?"
Katie lets out a laugh, bright and startled.
I keep my face neutral, but inside something warm settles. She knows. She's always known that first night in this room was where it all began, the quiet work of turning an indignant kid into a devoted daughter. She says it like a joke, but there's a weight under it that only the two of us fully understand. Katie knows too, from the way she's watching Hope - proud, and a little knowing.
"Then it's yours," I say.
We spend the morning moving. It's not a big job - the building's mine, and the penthouse was already my home, so there's nothing to sell or explain. Just boxes and bags and the girls hauling their own stuff up in the elevator while Katie and I handle the furniture.
Hester needs one trip her clothes, a backpack, and a teddy bear. Hope fights with a box of books twice her size and refuses help, wobbling into the elevator with her jaw set. Katie directs traffic from the master suite - "that one goes against the window, no, the other window" and at some point she catches me alone in the kitchen and presses a quick kiss to my cheek.
"You planned this all along," she murmurs.
"I plan everything."
"Mmm. I know." She gives me that look, the one that says she's not fooled for a second, and I can't help but pull her against me. She's warm and willing, and for a moment I toy with the idea of taking her here and now, with the girls coming and going, but in the end I decide against it. If the girls see us, they'll want in on the action, and the move will never be over.
"It's not just the space, is it," she says, quiet, into my shirt. "This isn't only about us getting more room."
I don't answer right away. She's fishing, gently, and she already knows the answer she always does.
"It's about us getting the room we need," I say. "All of us. And the room we're going to need."
"Mm." She pulls back, meets my eyes. "That's what I thought. The room at the end of the hall."
"You noticed."
"I always notice." She pats my chest. "And I think it's a good idea. They're good girls, Ben. They've been through a lot."
"Tonight," I say. "After everything settles. I want to break this bed in properly."
"Please do."
The last boxes come up around noon. There's a room at the end of the hall that I don't open - the twins' room, set up already with a double bed and furniture, the shelves empty, waiting. Hope passes it on her way back from a wander down the hall and pauses, a question on her face. She doesn't ask. She's too smart for that. The girls haven't asked about it. They will, eventually, but not today.
In the afternoon I take Hope and Hester out for lunch, just the three of us, the two of them still lit up from the morning, Hope talking nonstop about whose room is better and what she's going to put on her shelves. When we come back the place is starting to feel like a home instead of a construction site. Katie's put flowers on the kitchen counter. Hester's room is bare and neat, her few clothes hung with care, the teddy bear placed square in the middle of the made bed. Hope's room smells like her - that familiar mix of vanilla and the perfume she's been wearing since she was 12. The new bed groans under her when she flops onto it, and she lies there grinning at the ceiling, arms spread wide.
"I could get used to this," she says.
Hester pops her head in, quiet, and takes in the room. "Yours is nice," she says, soft.
"Yours too."
Their voices fade down the hall, and I stand in the doorway of Hope's room a moment longer, then go check the dungeon. It stays locked. I run a hand over the key, let myself imagine the night coming - the room at the end of the hall, the thick walls, the locked doors and I smile. Not yet. Soon.
By evening the last of it is done. We eat dinner at the breakfast bar, the four of us squeezed in like it's always been this way, and I watch them - Katie laughing at something Hope said, Hester quietly sliding the last of the bread onto her sister's plate and think about how this is the shape of things to come. A bigger home. More rooms. More girls. The fifth floor feels full already, and it's only half of what it will be.
After dinner the girls drift off to their own rooms, testing beds and walls and the new quiet of having space. I hear Hope's door close, then Hester's, and then the muffled sound of them calling goodnight down the hall to each other. Katie kisses my cheek and heads for the master suite with a look that promises more later. I stand in the hall for a moment, listening to the house settle around me, and I can feel it the thrum of a plan coming together, the warmth of a family under my roof, the anticipation of the night ahead.
The walls are thick up here. The doors lock. And the room at the end of the hall is ready.
-x-X-x-
The house is quiet by the time I leave the hall. The girls' doors are closed, the lights low, and somewhere beneath my feet the rest of the building hums its usual nightly song. I stop outside the master suite, listen to the silence for a second, and push the door open.
Katie is on the bed. She's been busy while I waited the room is lit by a single lamp, the sheets turned down, and my slave is waiting for me exactly the way I like her. Rope coiled in her hands, a blindfold in her lap, and that look in her eyes that says she knows precisely what tonight is about.
"Master," she says softly.
I close the door behind me and take the rope from her. "You've been thinking about this all day."
"Ever since you talked about breaking in the bed." She smiles up at me.
"That's right." Most men get greeted with dinner and a kiss. Mine waits up for me with rope and a blindfold. I'm the luckiest bastard alive.
I sit on the edge of the bed and run my hand up her thigh. She's wearing nothing but a thin camisole, and I can feel the warmth of her through it, the way her skin already knows to come alive under my touch.
"First night in the new house," I say. "Feels different, doesn't it?"
"Everything feels different." She shifts, pressing her thigh against my palm. "Bigger. Ours. All of it -because you made it so."
"Because I made it so," I agree. I pinch her nipple through the thin camisole, rolling it between my fingers until she squirms. "And you made me make it so."
She laughs, low and warm. "I just keep you honest, Master."
"That's exactly what you do." I trace up her side, over her ribs, and she shivers. "Now let's see how well this new bed holds up."
I work fast. Katie knows the drill, and she helps me like she's been waiting for it arms behind her back, rope wrapped around her wrists, then her elbows, cinched tight. She's my follower, my lover, my slave, my wife, my friend, my confidant - and when I tell her to spread her legs, she does it without a word, with only her dripping pussy betraying her excitement as I tie her ankles to the corners of the bed frame.
"Tied like a salami," she murmurs, and I have to laugh.
"Have you ever seen a salami beg for sausage?" She joins the laughter.
Last comes the camisole - there's no working it over bound arms, so I grip the neckline and rip it off her.
She's naked by the time I'm done, laid out across the new bed like an offering, arms bound behind her, legs spread wide and anchored. The lamp throws her shadow across the wall. She's already wet, I can see it glistening, and the way she arches into my touch patient, hungry, completely mine makes my cock ache. I run my hands over her, down her sides, over the round of her ass, and she shivers under me.
"You like the new room?" | ask.
"I like the new bed." She tugs at the ropes. "And I like where it's taking me."
"Good answer." I give her upturned ass a light slap, and she wiggles her hips in response.
I pull the leather paddle out of the bag I packed this morning the dungeon stays locked, but some things travel. "You know what comes first."
"Yes, Master." The word comes out breathless, and her hips lift off the bed in anticipation.
Her ass is bare and pale under the lamp, but not for long. Not tonight. I start slow, light taps that make her gasp, the skin reddening under each hit. She arches into it. "That's it," I tell her. "Take it."
I build the rhythm a slap, a pause, another slap, harder. Katie moans and squirms, pulling against the ropes, and I don't let up. Her ass turns a deep red, and by the time I set the paddle aside, she's soaked the sheets beneath her. I run my palm over the warmed skin.
"Count them for me, I say.
"O-one..." She swallows. "Two..."
I spank her again, and again, and she counts through it, her voice shaking more with each number, until she reaches ten and collapses, trembling, into the mattress. Her ass is bright red. She's breathing hard, and her hips work against nothing, looking for friction. Her fingers curl against the rope at her wrists.
"Good girl," I say.
"Thank you, Master."
I slide a hand between her legs. She's soaked. "Ten swats and you're already dripping for me."
"I'm always dripping for you, Master."
"That's what I like to hear."
I line up against her cunt and push. She's so wet the head of my cock slips in with almost no resistance, and we both groan as she swallows me to the root in one stroke. Her pussy clamps down around me, hot and gripping, and I hold still for a second just to feel my tip bopping her cervix.
"Home," I say.
"Home," she echoes, breathless.
Then I fuck her. Not gently she doesn't want gentle, and neither do I. I grab her hips and drive into her, hard and fast, my hips smacking her reddened cheeks on every stroke, my balls slapping her soaked cunt. The bed slams the wall, the headboard knocking a steady beat into the plaster. She cries out under me, half-words and moans, and I don't slow down.
"This new bed's holding up well," I grunt.
"Keep... keep going, Master..."
I pull out of her with a wet, obscene sound, and drive back in before her cunt can clench shut. Her ass is still red from the paddle, and I spank her a few more times with my bare hand as I fuck her, each slap making her squeeze tight around me. She's crying out now, muffled into the pillow, toes curling against the ropes at her ankles.
"Who do you belong to?" Slap!
"You... you, Master..." Slap!
"You're mine. Say it!" Slap!
"Yours... I'm yours, Master... SLAP!
"Good slave."
I reach under her and work her clit while I fuck her. She doesn't last long. Her whole body goes rigid, and she screams into the pillow as she comes, her cunt clamping down on my cock so hard I have to grit my teeth to hold on.
I don't pull out. My balls ring like a slot machine that just hit the jackpot - time to disgorge the accumulated coins and I bury myself to the hilt, pumping her full while she shudders beneath me. The ropes hold her through all of it, and she's still shaking when I finally slow and pull out, letting my cum ooze out of her well-fucked pussy onto the sheets.
But I'm not done with her.
I scoop the cum leaking out of her well-fucked pussy and smear it over her asshole, working one finger in to the knuckle. She pushes back onto it, hungry for more.
"Master..."
"Shh." I press my slick cockhead against her tight ring and bury myself to the root in one hard push. Tied like a salami, spread wide and helpless, she takes it with a strangled cry. "I've been thinking about this all night."
She's not new to this. She's taken me in her ass plenty of times, and it's always rough, but tonight it's rougher than usual. I pull back and drive into her hard, and she cries out, her bound fists clenching behind her back. I fuck her ass without mercy, my balls swinging up against her soaked cunt, each thrust forcing a breathless sound out of her. The bed keeps slamming the wall. I don't care who hears, plus the soundproofing up here is excellent.
"Good slave," I say, slapping her reddened ass again. "Take it."
"I... I take it, Master..."
I reach under her and work her clit again, and she's so far gone that she comes a second time without warning, a scream swallowed by the pillow, her asshole clamping down on me. My balls have been rattling like a shaken soda can all the while, and I finally crack the tab, spraying rope after rope into her ass until she's full of me. She stays there, quivering, tied and marked.
She slumps onto the mattress, trembling in her ropes, legs still spread wide to the posts. I work myself out of her slowly, her asshole making a vulgar wet sound as my cock leaves her insides, and she whimpers at the loss of it, her gaping asshole trying to clench around nothing.
Katie lies there panting, still tied, still dripping. I run a hand over her slick, reddened ass. "You're going to stay right here."
She looks back at me over her shoulder, dazed, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "Where else would I go? I'm tied like a salami."
"That's my girl."
The blindfold never got its turn. I pick it up off the sheet and tie it snug over her eyes, dropping her into darkness. "Now you'll wait properly," I say, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.
I leave her there, wrists and ankles bound, cum cooling between her thighs, and close the master suite door behind me. She'll wait. She always does.
The hall is dark and quiet.
On my way to Hester's room, I pause at the last door, the twins' room, still empty, the double bed made and waiting, the shelves bare. I step inside and stand there a moment, letting the quiet of it sink in.
Dana and Gina are sleeping two floors down in Mary's apartment right now, curled into each other the way they always do, with no idea that this room is already theirs.
Almost theirs. Everything is ready. All that's left is finding the right moment to have Mary bring it up.
I run a hand over the bare shelf, smile, and step back out into the hall.
Hester's door is the one across from mine, and I push it open to find her in the middle of her new room, bent over her open backpack in a thin tank top and nothing else, her hair falling over her face as she digs through it.
She looks up, and color rises in her cheeks. "Father. Can't sleep?"
"Thought I'd help you break the bed in."
Hester straightens, shy but eager, eyes dropping to the floor. "Oh... It's a two-person job?"
"Definitely," I grin.
I close the door behind me, and she waits, cheeks pink, until I pull her against me and find her lips. My hands slide up under her tank top to her small breasts, squeezing, and she arches into me with a soft moan.
"Tonight's the first night in the new room," she whispers when our mouths part. "I hoped you'd come check on me."
"Always."
Her eyes drop to my cock, half-hard and swinging free, then flick back up, big and wet, the scared-rabbit look she does when she wants something but won't dare ask. She nuzzles into my neck and inhales. "I can smell mommy on you."
"We had to break our bed in too," I say, pushing her onto the bed. "And now she's too tied up to come along and help."
She bounces once, then scrambles to sit up, watching me with those wide eyes.
"Hands and knees."
She turns around and gets on her hands and knees, ass up, presenting herself. Already wet; I can see it glistening between her thighs.
I run my cock along her slit a few times, teasing her entrance, and she whimpers and pushes back against me.
"Please," she breathes, and I give it to her in one hard push, burying myself to the root in her tight little pussy.
Hester moans into the mattress as I start to move, my hips smacking against her ass with every thrust.
She's soaked; each stroke drags a squelch out of her that fills the room.
"You like that?" I growl, fisting a hand in her hair. "You like your father's cock stretching you open?"
"Yes! Yes, Father, yes!" she cries, pushing back to meet every thrust.
I let go of her hair and grab her hips instead, hauling her back onto me, harder, faster, my cock scraping every inch of her vaginal walls.
"Harder," she begs, and I oblige, slamming into her hard enough to rock the bed frame against the wall. Let the headboard bang; these rooms are built to keep every sound on this floor inside them.
Her arms give out, and she drops onto her elbows, ass pushing higher, taking me deeper.
"That's it, take it, take your father's cock like a good little pet."
She whimpers and clenches around me at the word, her whole body shaking.
I pull out of her soaked pussy, step off the bed, and scoop her up under her thighs, her back flat against my chest.
"Hand between your legs. Guide me into your ass.
-x-X-x-
She reaches down, wraps her fingers around my shaft, and aims me home as I turn us toward the long mirror on the closet door. I sink into her and start bouncing her on my cock, my hands gripping her bare mid-thighs, her legs dangling and swinging with every thrust. All her weight sits on my arms, nothing of her touching the floor. Her breath fogs the glass.
"You like seeing yourself like this?" I ask.
"Yes," she pants. "Yes, Father."
"Then look. Don't look away."
I keep her facing the glass so she can't look away from it. Every thrust shows her what she is: a wanton little thing bouncing on her father's cock in her brand-new room. And while she rides it, Katie lies bound and dripping a few doors down the hall, waiting for me. The thought makes my cock twitch inside her, and I feel her clench around me.
"Faster," she begs. "Father, please..."
I give it to her. My hands haul her up and drop her onto my cock, again and again, harder, her sweaty back sliding against my chest, her moans filling the room. Her dangling legs kick with every slam. She's watching herself come apart in the glass, and she loves it.
"Look at yourself," I say. "Watch what you do to yourself. And while we're at it, play with yourself."
She tries to speak, and it comes out a broken little whine.
"Mewl for me," I tell her.
She tries again and gets a mewl, high and needy. Exactly right. Her fingers rub her clit in tight circles
while her other hand claws at my forearm, hips rocking on their own, chasing it.
I don't slow down. She's clamping around me now, close, her whole body trembling against my chest, and I keep bouncing her on my cock, watching her face in the glass. Her eyes go wide. Her mouth falls open. She comes hard with a long shaking moan, clamping down on my cock so tight I nearly lose it.
I lose it. My balls call an emergency meeting. The vote is unanimous: unload immediately. I ram in deep and pump rope after rope into her ass while she trembles in my arms, both of us reflected in the mirror. She slumps against my chest, spent, and for a long moment neither of us moves, her weight resting on my arms, her breath warm on my neck. In the glass,s her eyelids flutter, a slow, dazed smile spreading over her lips.
"Holy shit," she breathes.
I carry her to her new bed and lay her down. She's already drifting, smiling, one hand reaching for me. "Father... that was..."
"Good. Sleep."
"Stay?" she mumbles, but she's already half gone.
I pull the sheet over her, watch her settle, and let her go. There's one more room to visit..
Hope's door is open a crack. She's on her bed, face down, a magazine spread under her, and she's "reading" it the way she does everything, with her whole body, one leg kicked up, chin propped on her fist. She doesn't look up when I come in.
"Hey, Daddy." Casual. Like she's been waiting.
"Reading?"
"Mm." She turns a page. "There's an article in here I think you'd like."
I walk to the bed and run a hand up the back of her thigh. She doesn't move, but I feel her go still under my touch. "Yeah? Which one?"
"I haven't gotten to it yet." She turns another page, pointedly not looking at me. "I'm a slow reader."
I slide my hand higher, under the hem of the shorts she's wearing. Nothing underneath. Of course not. "You know," I say, "the first night you ever slept in this room, you were a slow reader too."
That gets her. She looks up at me over her shoulder, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Was I?"
"You were." I hook my fingers under her shorts and pull them down. She lifts her hips just enough to help. "Reading and sipping cocoa. You were out cold before you finished the page."
"Best sleep of my life," she hums. "You have to give me the recipe someday."
Oh, I remember the recipe. And everything I did to you after. "And then you kept coming back."
"Every day. She rolls onto her side to face me, the magazine forgotten, eyes bright. "You had me convinced your spunk was a study aid."
"It worked, didn't it?"
"Aced every test," she grins. "Though the first time you put your fingers in me on that couch, I forgot my own name."
She bites her lip, and that look on her face is the whole story of us. I push her back onto her stomach, pull the shorts off the rest of the way, and she settles into place without being told, the magazine
already spread beneath her like it was never anywhere else.
I position her the same way, face down, magazine under her. She's already wet. I push her thighs apart and bury myself in one hard push, and she sighs, face dropping toward the page.
"There we go," I murmur. "Just like before."
I fuck her like that, prone, her weight on the magazine, her face pressed to the paper. She's not reading anymore. She's moaning into the pages, gripping the sheets, and I keep a hard,d steady rhythm, dragging against that spot that makes her whine. Her hips meet every thrust, the magazine crinkles under her, and her legs kick up behind her, crossing at the ankle.
"You've gotten good at this," I say.
"Mhm..." She's barely forming words. "You... you trained me, Daddy."
I lean over her, my weight on my forearms, my mouth by her ear. "And you're going to get even better. This room, this bed, this is where you're going to spend a lot of time, little girl."
"I... I hope so..."
"Remind me," I say, "what you shouted when we made our deal."
"That... that..." She gasps as I hit her spot. "...that you could help me orgasm."
"And now?"
"Now I... oh, Daddy...'
I pick up the pace, and she dissolves. Face flat on the magazine, ass up, taking it, making small broken sounds, and I don't hold back. I drive into her until she's wailing into the pages, until she comes undone under me with a long shaking moan, going boneless against the bed. I can feel her pulsing around me.
My balls start beeping like a truck in reverse, backing it up, backing it up, and on the third beep I slam in deep and dump the whole load inside her pussy, rope after rope until she's full of me. She makes a soft satisfied sound at the warmth of it, hips pressing back against me like she wants more.
She lies there panting, my cum starting to leak out of her, face pressed to the magazine. A bead of drool runs from the corner of her mouth onto the page. She mumbles something, barely audible.
"What was that?" I ask.
"...Babysitting is awesome."
"Only if the babysitter fucks you good," I say, grinning.
Her face drops back to the paper, loopy and dopey, one hand reaching for me. I let her have her minute, then my hand comes down on her ass again.
"Round two."
"Daddy..." she whines into the magazine, but her hips lift off the bed on their own.
I scoop the cum leaking out of her well-fucked pussy and smear it over her asshole, working one finger in, then two. She pushes back onto them, greedy little thing. I line up and sink into her ass in one steady push, bottoming out with my hips flat against her cheeks, and she groans long and low into the pages.
I fuck her ass in long strokes, her body creeping up the bed an inch at a time, the magazine riding along under her chest. She babbles Daddy please, Daddy more, and I give her both until she clamps down and shivers through another orgasm. I pump my second load of the night deep in her ass and stay there until we both stop shaking.
I work myself out slowly and admire the result: my cum leaking out of her pussy and her ass at the same time. I pull the sheet over her and kiss the back of her neck.
"Good girl," I tell her.
"G'night, Daddy," she slurs.
I leave her to her daze. The magazine is ruined under her. She won't care. She never does. I close her door softly behind me and stand in the hall a moment, listening. Hester's room is quiet. Hope's is quieter. The whole fifth floor is settling into its first night as my home, full of my girls.
The master suite is quiet when I go back. Katie is exactly where I left her, wrists and ankles tied, cum drying between her thighs, blindfold snug over her eyes. Her head turns toward the door when it opens.
"Did you have fun?" she asks.
"I did."
She smiles. "Good. Untie me, Master."
I untie her, and she stretches, groaning, the marks from the rope pink on her wrists and ankles. She rolls over and makes room for me, and I lie down beside her, pulling my slave into my arms. She curls against me, warm and spent, her head on my chest, and the new house settles around us, thick walls and locked doors and everyone under my roof.
"You wore me out," she says, muffled against my chest. "That's not fair."
"You asked for it."
"I asked for it," she agrees, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
"Ah, home sweet home," I say.
Katie hums against my chest. "Home sweet home, Master."
I hold her there, listening to the quiet of the fifth floor: the soft, even breathing of the girls in their new rooms, the building finally becoming what I always hoped it would be. Katie's heartbeat is slow and steady under my hand, her body soft against mine, and for a moment there's nothing but the two of us.
I can feel the shape of things to come: the family I'm building, the room at the end of the hall still waiting, the two more bodies that will fill it soon enough. Dana and Gina, two floors down, dreaming in their shared bed with no idea what's coming for them. Mary and Paul, a courtship taking its first careful steps.
Tomorrow, I'll start planning the twins' first time. I'll set the stage, move the pieces, put the whole thing in motion. But tonight, this is enough. Tonight, I have my slave in my arms and my girls under my roof.
I close my eyes and let sleep take me.
[New PDP balance: 90,360]
-x-X-x-
I wake up to sunlight through the blinds and Katie already awake beside me, propped on one elbow, watching me.
"You wore me out last night," she says.
"You asked for it," I reply, smirking at her.
"I asked for all of it," she agrees, and rolls over to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for her hair tie. The room is quiet. Down the hall, the twins' room is still empty, waiting.
I get up and step into the hall. Katie doesn't follow. She knows when I need a minute.
I call Mary.
She picks up on the second ring. "Ben?"
"I need you to do something for me."
"Of course."
"Have the twins stop by this afternoon. I want to talk to them."
A short pause. "They'll be there. Is everything all right?"
"Everything's fine. One more thing."
"Yes?"
"On Sunday, when you're leaving church, ask Katie if she can take the girls for a while. Say work pressure. She'll agree."
"Ben... she won't ask questions?"
"She won't. Katie knows how to handle things."
"All right. Sunday, after church. I'll ask her in front of people, like you said."
"How is it going with Paul?"
"It's going well, Ben. We're having coffee Saturday. He's very kind."
"Good. Thank you, Mary.
"Anything for you, Ben."
I hang up and stand in the hallway for a moment, phone in hand. The first piece is in place. Now for the second...
Afternoon. The doorbell rings. I'm off the couch before Katie looks up from her book.
I open the door. Dana and Gina stand in the hallway. Gina's already reaching for her waistband. Dana follows a half second later. Two pairs of panties dropped at the threshold, kicked aside, before they're even inside. Conditioning. They don't think about it anymore.
I step back and let them in. Katie glances up, smiles, and goes back to her book. She's used to this by now.
"Come sit down," I say, and nod toward the couch.
They sit. Side by side, knees together, hands in their laps. They know something's up.
"I want you to come live with us, I say. "Your room at the end of the hall is ready. Double bed, shelves, your own bathroom. Monday or Thursday, whichever is better for you. It's yours if you want it."
Dana's eyes go wide. Gina grabs her sister's arm.
"We're... really?" Gina says.
"Really. But here's how it works. On Sunday, your mother is going to ask Katie if she can take you two for a while. She's going to say it's because of work pressure. Katie will say yes."
Dana nods slowly. "And we just... go along with it?"
"You go along with it. You don't act surprised. You don't act like you already know. You let your mother ask, and Katie say yes, and that's the story. That way it looks like it was her idea. She asks Katie in front of people at church, because of work. If two teenage girls just moved in with their landlord, people would talk. But if your mom asks Katie for help and Katie says yes, it looks like you're staying with Katie. That's normal. No one will think it's strange."
"Okay," Dana says. "We can do that."
"One more thing," I say. "Your mother is seeing someone. His name is Paul. He works at the school."
The twins look at each other.
"Mom has a boyfriend?" Gina says, and there's a smile breaking across her face before she can stop it.
"He's a good man," I say. "She's happy."
Dana is smiling now too. "That's... that's really good, Daddy. She deserves that."
"She does. But not a word about any of this until Sunday. Not to your mother, not to anyone. You act normal."
"We promise," Gina says, and Dana nods beside her.
"Good."
I sit back. The twins stay where they are, buzzing quietly. Hester is in the corner of the couch, her legs tucked under her, watching me with those eyes. She hasn't said a word since they arrived.
"Hester," I say.
She looks up. Waiting.
"On your knees, pet."
She slides off the couch without a word and settles on the floor in front of me, hands on her thighs. Her lips part slightly. She doesn't move until I tell her to.
"You two, on all fours," I say. "Asses to me."
They move without a word and get on all fours on the couch, one on each side of me. I sit in the middle. Their asses are turned to me, pussies to my left and right. I flip both skirts up onto their backs. Their panties are already gone. I can reach both without moving.
I put a hand on each and rub both clits at the same time, slow circles at first, then faster when they start to breathe hard. Gina pushes back against my hand right away, eager. Dana is slower, softer, but her hips start to move too.
Hester is on her knees in front of me. She pulls my pants down and frees my cock, then takes me into her mouth, warm and wet, and starts to suck. Her hands rest on my thighs. She has space to work because the twins are to my sides.
Katie is in her chair, legs open, hand between her legs. She rubs herself hard as she watches. She looks toward the hall and calls out.
"Hope! Come here. Mommy needs a tongue."
Hope appears in the doorway. She takes one look at the couch, at Katie in the chair, at me between the twins, at Hester on her knees, and grins.
"About time you called me," she says.
"Down here, baby," Katie says, opening her legs wider. "Mommy needs your tongue."
Hope drops to her knees between Katie's legs and puts her mouth on her. Katie gasps and pushes her hips forward.
Both twins start to breathe harder at the same time. I keep rubbing, steady, left hand on Dana, right hand on Gina. Dana makes a soft high sound and pushes her ass back. Gina is louder, hips rocking, fingers digging into the couch cushions.
Hester keeps sucking, steady and warm, hands on my thighs. Katie is loud now, one hand in Hope's hair, the other gripping the chair arm, hips moving against Hope's mouth.
Dana comes first, a short choked sound, hips shaking against my hand. Gina follows a second later, louder, her whole body rocking. I keep rubbing through both, fingers on wet clits, until they shudder and go still, asses still up, breathing hard.
My balls tighten. They run the final countdown, T-minus three, T-minus two, T-minus one, and dump the whole tank deep in Hester's throat.
Hester swallows every drop and pulls back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Katie arches hard a moment later. Her hand tightens in Hope's hair, and she cries out, hips jerking against Hope's mouth. Hope keeps licking until Katie sags back in the chair, chest heaving, her legs still open and wet.
The twins slide down from all fours and settle on either side of me, flushed and breathing hard, skirts still flipped up on their backs.
Hope stands there for a second and pouts. "What about me, Daddy?" she says.
"Come here, princess," I say. "Ride me."
She pulls her shirt over her head, then her bra, then her pants and panties. She is naked in seconds.
She climbs onto my lap, knees on either side of me, facing me, and sinks onto my cock. She is wet and tight, and she starts to move.
"You know in this family we share everything and help each other, I say to the twins. "Why don't you suck your sister's tits while she gets full of Daddy?"
They move without being told and put their mouths on Hope's tits, licking and sucking, hands on her sides.
"Pet," I say. "Your sister's ass is kinda lonely."
Hester moves behind Hope and puts her mouth and fingers on Hope's asshole, licking and rubbing while Hope rides me, moaning loudly.
Hope rides me faster, her hands on my shoulders and her tits in the twins' mouths. She throws her head back and moans loudly, her eyes half closed. Hester stays behind her, her hands spreading her ass, her mouth on her asshole, licking steady.
Hope comes with a sharp cry, her pussy clamping around me, and her hips jerking. She shudders and finally sags against me.
My balls call last orders, the bar is closing, and I pour the whole foaming keg of daddy-batter into her tight little cunt. Overflowing and dripping over my balls.
Hester happily lowers herself a bit and gets her mouth on my testicles, sucking the runaway spunk clean.
Hope slides off me and slinks to the floor, next to Hester, still breathing hard, my spunk leaking down her thighs. The twins stay on either side of me, their hands on my legs, looking pleased with themselves. Hester wipes her mouth and sits back on her heels. Katie is slumped in her chair, her legs still open, Hope's mouth still wet on her.
[System notification]
Hester: Blowjob 400 x 1.5 (2+ daughters present) = 600 PDP
Dana: Orgasm (clit rub) - 200 x 1.5 (Virgin Slayer) x 1.5 (Sister Pact) = 450 PDP
Gina: Orgasm (clit rub) 200 x 1.5 (Virgin Slayer) x 1.5 (Sister Pact) = 450 PDP
Hope: Orgasm (ride) 600 x 1.5 (2+ daughters present) = 900 PDP
Running total: 90,360 + 2,400 = 92,760
[New PDP balance: 92,760]
The twins get dressed or rather, they pull their panties back on and gather their things. At the door, Gina turns back.
"Monday or Thursday?" she says.
"I'll text you."
She grins, and they're gone.
I sit back on the couch. Hester climbs up beside me and settles against my side, quiet as ever. Katie looks up from her book.
"Sunday," I say.
She nods and goes back to reading.
-x-X-x-
Thursday morning. I get to the school early, before the first bell, and go straight to Paul's office. Paul is already there, jacket off, sleeves rolled, sorting papers at his desk. He looks up and smiles when he sees me.
"Ben. You're early."
"Thought I'd check in before the day gets going, I say. "How's Mary?"
Paul's face softens. "Good. Really good. We had coffee Tuesday. She's... she's easy to talk to. I like her a lot."
"Good. Keep it steady. Take your time with her." I let the talk of Mary settle, then nod toward the outer office, where Higgins sits typing at her desk. "The new school is going to need a good secretary. Someone who can run an office." I can see the back of her head through the open door, graying hair in a loose bun, shoulders straight. "How's Higgins?"
Paul follows my glance. "Mrs. Higgins? She's been here forever. Solid as they come. Runs the whole place, really."
"Just thinking. You trust her?"
"Yes, I do," Paul says.
"I'd like to talk to her for a bit. Would you mind sitting at her desk outside for a while? Just for twenty minutes. Keep an eye on the hall."
Paul looks puzzled for a second, then nods. He trusts me without question. "Sure. You want me to tell her?"
"No, it would be better if it came from me."
I step out into the outer office. Higgins looks up from her keyboard, hands poised over the keys. She is in her forties, graying hair pulled into a loose bun, reading glasses perched on her nose. She has the look of a woman who likes order.
"Mrs. Higgins," I say quietly. "Could you step into Paul's office for a moment? There's something I need to discuss with you. Privately."
She looks at Paul, who is already standing and moving to her desk. He gives her a small nod and a smile. "It's fine, Mrs. Higgins. I'll cover the phones."
She stands, smooths her skirt, and follows me into the inner office. I close the door and lock it. The click is soft. Higgins's eyes flick to the lock, one eyebrow rising a little, but she doesn't move, and she doesn't ask. She trusts me too much to question it. The room is lined with shelves, Paul's big desk in the middle, a chair in front of it, a window that looks out over the yard. Higgins stands just inside the door, hands clasped, waiting.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Roberts?"
"I did." I keep my voice even. 'I've been watching you, Mrs. Higgins. You run this place like clockwork. Every call answered, every file in its place, every late boy signed in and out. You keep order because you need it. Don't you?"
Her eyes flicker. A faint pink touches her cheeks. She doesn't answer right away.
[Mrs. Higgins trust: 88 » 89]
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 15 » 20]
"I'm not here to embarrass you," I say. "I'm here because I think you've been waiting a long time for someone to notice. To see what you really want."
[Mrs. Higgins trust: 89»90]
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 20»26]
She swallows. "I... I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do." I step closer. "When was the last time someone put you over their knee, Mrs. Higgins?"
Her breath catches. Her hands tighten together. "That's... that's not..."
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 26»34]
"It's exactly what you want," I say, softly. "And I can give it to you. But I need you to be honest with me.
Do you like being spanked, Mrs. Higgins? Do you like the hand? The ruler? Being held down while someone teaches you?"
[Mrs. Higgins trust: 90»91]
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 34»44]
Her face is red now. She looks at the floor, then back at me. Her voice is barely a whisper. "Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I... I like it. I like being... disciplined. I like a strong hand. I haven't... not since my husband... It's been years."
[Mrs. Higgins trust: 91»93]
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 44»54]
"Good. Thank you for telling me." I keep my voice calm and steady. "I'm going to give you what you need. But you need to understand what you're accepting, Mrs. Higgins. If you submit to me now, you're not just getting a spanking. You're telling me you want this. You want to be the woman who gets put in her place. Who obeys. Who takes what she's given and says thank you. Do you understand?"
[Mrs. Higgins trust: 93»95]
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 54»62]
She nods, small and fast. Her breathing is already uneven.
"And I'm going to find you a good master," I say, moving behind Paul's desk and pulling out the wooden ruler from the pen holder. It is long, flat, smooth. "A man with a strong hand who will know exactly what to do with you. Not me. I have other girls. But I will find him for you, and he will take care of you properly. Do you want that?"
"Yes," she breathes. "Please."
"Then bend over the desk, Mrs. Higgins. Hands flat. Skirt up."
She hesitates only a second. Then she moves to the desk, reaches back, and pulls her skirt up over her hips, baring the backs of her thighs and her plain white cotton panties.
"Drop them," I say.
She hesitates, just a breath, then hooks her thumbs into the waistband and pushes the panties down to her knees. Her ass is bare, pale, the skin already pink with the flush climbing her neck.
She bends at the waist and places her hands flat on the wood. Her legs are pressed together.
I stand behind her and place a hand on the small of her back. "Legs apart, Mrs. Higgins."
She shifts her feet apart, just a few inches.
"Wider," I say. "I want to see your juices drip on the floor."
She moves a bit more, a soft whimper escaping her.
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 62»70]
I bring my hand down first. Flat, open palm, hard on her bare ass. The crack is loud in the small room.
She jerks, a small yelp escaping her.
"Count," I say.
"One," she whispers.
I hit again, harder. Her hips push back, then pull away, then settle.
"Two."
Another. She is breathing hard now, hands flat, knuckles white.
"Three."
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 70»74]
Her skin is already pinking. I can see the shape of her ass tensing with each hit. I switch to the ruler.
The first ruler strike makes her gasp. A thin red line blooms on her pale skin.
"Four," she says, voice shaking.
I hit again, same spot. She yelps, then moans, a sound that is half pain and half something else. Her spread thighs tremble, and a fresh trickle of juice runs down the inside of one leg.
"Five."
"Six."
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 74»80]
Her hips are rocking now, small movements she can't control. The moans are getting louder, mixing with the yelps. Tears are running down her face, but she is not asking me to stop. Her thighs are slick, juices running down the insides.
"Seven."
"Eight."
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 80»86]
She is crying openly now, tears and snot, but her ass is pushing back toward the ruler, offering itself. Her moans have turned breathy and desperate.
"Do you want to stop, Mrs. Higgins?" I ask, pausing.
"No," she chokes. "Please, don't stop."
"Do you accept what you are? Do you accept that you need this? That you need a strong hand to put you in your place?"
"Yes," she sobs. "Yes, I accept. I need it. Please, I need it."
"You want to be told when to stand, when to sit, when to speak," I say, voice low. "You want to be told you've been bad, and then shown exactly how bad, until your ass is burning and your thighs are shaking and you can't think about anything except the hand that put you there. Isn't that right, Mrs. Higgins?"
She makes a small, broken sound. "Yes."
"You want to be held down when you try to squirm away. You want the ruler when the hand isn't enough. You want to be left marked and sore, so every time you sit down tomorrow you remember who put you there. And you want to thank the hand that did it."
Her whole body shudders. "Yes, please. That is... that is what I want. I want to be... I want to be used like that. I want to be told."
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 86»90]
"Good." I trace the ruler lightly over the red marks blooming on her bare ass, and she whimpers, pushing back against it. "Then you're going to take four more like you mean it. You're going to count, and you're going to say thank you. But you do not come before the last strike, do you hear me? If you disobey, this is the last time anyone punishes you, and you can go back to your lonely, miserable life with nothing but your filing cabinets. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir... I mean, yes, Mr. Roberts," she stammers, then corrects, breathless. "Yes, I understand."
I hit again, harder. She screams, a raw sound that fills the office.
"Nine."
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 90»94]
She is shaking, holding back, tears and spit on her face, but she does not come.
"Ten."
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 94»97]
Her whole body is trembling, her ass clenching, her breath coming in desperate little sobs. She is right on the edge, but she holds.
"Eleven."
[Mrs. Higgins horniness: 97»99]
Her knuckles are white on the desk, her thighs shaking, a low keening sound building in her throat. She is fighting herself, barely containing it.
"Twelve."
The last strike lands, and she screams acceptance, a high, broken sound, and her hips jerk and her thighs clamp together, and she comes, a shuddering orgasm that rips through her, her thighs soaked, her body convulsing against the desk, sobbing and moaning and saying "yes, yes, yes" over and over.
[Mrs. Higgins' horniness: 99»100 (orgasm)]
[Prudence Higgins conversion complete (follower attained)]
[Prudence Higgins trust: 95»100]
[Prudence Higgins loyalty: 20»»»100]
[Prudence Higgins fear: 0]
[Prudence Higgins obedience: MAX (derived: fear 0 + loyalty 100 + trust 100)]
[Prudence Higgins horniness reset to 15]
I stop. I let her shake, let her breathe, let her come down. Her face is wet, her ass is red and marked. She stays bent over the desk, sobbing softly, her body still twitching.
"Good," I say, quietly. "You did so well."
She turns her head to look at me, eyes swollen, cheeks wet, but there is a smile starting, small and entranced, like she is somewhere else and it is exactly where she wants to be.
"Thank you," she whispers.
Prudence Higgins. A prim, churchgoing secretary who just soaked her own thighs, begging to be spanked, and her name is Prudence. I nearly laugh. It's almost too on the nose.
"You're welcome, Prudence. I will find you that master. A good one. With a very strong hand."
I let that sink in, then go on, matter-of-fact. "I'm building a preparatory boarding school. A whole new campus, and I need someone like you to keep it running smoothly. Someone who likes order, who does what she's told, who doesn't flinch when the work gets hard."
She is hanging on every word, eyes shining, chest rising and falling.
"And if you do a good job there," I add, low and offhand, "I might even let you use my private dungeon."
Her knees give a little, and a small moan squeaks out of her before she can stop it. "R-really?"
"Really. But you'll have to earn it, Prudence."
She nods, still smiling that strange, happy smile, then bends to pull her panties back up over her hips, smooths her skirt, and slowly pushes herself upright. Her legs wobble as she stands. She winces when her thighs press together, then smiles again at the sting.
I unlock the door. Paul is at her desk outside, pretending to look at papers, but I can see from his face he has heard everything, every yelp, every moan, every scream.
He looks at Higgins as she comes out, wobbling, flinching with each step, but with that entranced smile on her lips, and he can't help but grin, a short, amused huff escaping him. Higgins sees his look and blushes deep red, but the smile stays.
She steadies herself on the edge of her desk, hands flat, thighs trembling, and lowers herself into her chair, wincing as her sore ass meets the seat. She looks wrecked and happy, hair a little loose from its knot, blouse slightly untucked, skirt still not quite straight, and then she sighs, soft and content, eyes half closed.
"Thank you, Prudence," I say, loud enough for the hall to hear. "We're done."
She nods, still wobbling, and makes her way back to her desk. Paul stands, and I clap him on the shoulder.
"Thanks for keeping watch."
"Anytime, Ben."
I leave the office and head down the hall. The bell hasn't rung yet. Kids are still arriving, lockers opening and closing. I see Delaney at the end of the hall, carrying a stack of books to her classroom. She is in a soft blue blouse, hair in a ponytail, glasses, that fresh, pretty look she always has.
"Miss Delaney," I say, falling into step beside her.
She looks up and smiles, a little surprised. "Mr. Roberts. You're here early."
"I wanted to catch you before classes. I've been thinking about what I said to you last time. About building a school where the arts would be treated the way they should be."
Her eyes light up. "I've thought about it too. More than I should, probably." She glances away, a little shy. "A school that actually values poetry... I didn't think places like that existed anymore."
"They don't." I hold her gaze. "But I am bringing it back. And a woman who knows her Amichai and her Keats would do well there. A woman who knows how to make a room listen when she reads."
She blushes, adjusting her glasses, then laughs, a little nervous but pleased. "You're going to make me blush before first period."
"That's the idea." I touch her elbow lightly, just a brush, and she doesn't pull away. "We should talk more about it. I'd like to hear what you think."
"I'd like that," she says softly.
"I'll find you tomorrow. Empty hour? When you're not teaching?"
She thinks. "Tomorrow morning. First period, I have no class. I'll be in my classroom, revising."
"I was rereading Donne last night," she says, a little shy. "The Elegies. After you mentioned the arts program. I didn't expect you to know him so well."
"Which one?"
"Elegy 19. To His Mistress Going to Bed. I... I taught it once, years ago, but I never really... I never really taught it properly. It's so..."
"Honest?" I say. "He doesn't hide behind pretty words. He says what men want, plain. "Off with that happy busk, which I envy, that still can be, and still can stand so nigh. He wants her naked, and he says so. No apology."
She laughs, surprised. "You quote Donne like you quote Amichai. You're full of surprises, Mr. Roberts."
"Ben," I say. "When it's just us, it's Ben."
*Thankfully, I spent a lot of my free time reading, and poetry was always my favorite. It keeps coming in handy in the best possible ways.*
"Ben," she repeats, testing it. Her cheeks are pink. "Ben, do you... do you read every woman's favorite poets, or just mine?"
"Just yours," I say. "You're the only one worth reading to. I'd like to hear you read Donne out loud sometime. Properly. Not the way they make you teach it to fifteen-year-olds. The real way." I pause, then add, "Or better yet, I should be the one reading it. It's written from a man's perspective, after all."
Her breath catches. She looks down at her books, then back at me, and I can see the idea taking hold, the slight parting of her lips, the way her fingers tighten on the stack.
"I... I could do that,' she says, quietly. "I'd like that."
"I know you would." I let my hand rest a moment longer on her elbow, thumb brushing the inside of her arm, and she shivers, just a small tremor she tries to hide by adjusting her glasses. "Tomorrow morning, then. Your classroom, first period, no class. Just you and your books. And me."
"I'll be there," she says. "I'll be revising. But... but I'll be waiting."
"Attagirl," I say, soft enough that only she hears, and her eyes widen behind her glasses, pink spreading up her neck.
"Then I'll come find you."
She smiles, and I leave her there at her doorway, books against her chest, watching me go. I can feel her eyes on my back all the way down the hall.