Chapter 1

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Celebrity, Cheating, Revenge, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Rough, Light Bond, Group Sex, Orgy, Harem, Polygamy/Polyamory, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Squirting, Pregnancy, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Double Penetration, Nudism, .

Desc: BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Jack Phelps never would have guessed that by leaving his wife Molly and her crazy ways behind, he'd run into a major TV actress, but when he did, she turned his life around.

I'm not sure quite why I chose that particular bar to visit during my stay in Reno. It was somewhat funny that it had a country/western theme and I kept thinking of that Doug Supernaw video with the same name, which fit my estranged wife, Molly. My marriage to her was a no-win proposition of the same scale as a night at one of the big casinos of the sort that make damn sure that you don't come out ahead.

If I gave her everything that she asked for, I was too much of a pushover, but if I stood up to her, I was some kind of a misogynist or knuckle-dragging caveman. Either way, the bed had gotten very cold toward the end, so I finally gave up on that lose-lose scenario, my own personal Kobayashi Maru, and like James T. Kirk, I found a solution. One couldn't save a marriage if the other partner simply refused to even live in the same world as the rest of us. I had strong suspicions of borderline personality disorder in her case, but I'm no shrink, so it could be something else.

I resigned my position at Molly's father's restaurant business, traded up on my bike for one that was suitable for cross-country travel, paid the difference from our joint-bank account, took what few possessions I wanted, closed the joint-account by putting the majority in hers and a substantial minority in my own, and headed to a city where I could get a quick and easy divorce. A chef like me should be more than able to make a living somewhere else, long before anyone caught up with me. I didn't care about her money. I had married her with the crazy idea that she loved me as much as I loved her.

Of course, it being Reno, I made sure that I had a room before even going near a bar, and quickly rediscovered why I didn't go there often. The whiskey was horribly overpriced, even from the well. If I wanted the high-end, smoother, and aged stuff, I'd be paying out of my ass. I decided on beer instead, since it was relatively cheap and I might actually wake up without my head caving in the next morning.

Feeling somewhat braver, I got to the floor and decided to ask a particular blonde with sunglasses on for a dance. She took off her shades, as if expecting me to recognize her, put them back on with some surprise, and then almost jumped on me with startling enthusiasm to dance with me. Despite her having some high-class, designer eyewear, I didn't think that she was anyone really important. She might be a trust-fundie like Molly, old money, that sort, or perhaps an emerging model, but I didn't care about that. I just wanted to enjoy a dance in what amounted to a fancy honkytonk.

I had something of a wicked grin when I heard Sawyer Brown's "Some Girls Do", as it really seemed to fit the attitude of my past and present company. Molly hated my country music, my leather boots, my faded denim jeans, and my tendency to go shirtless on a really hot day unless I had to cover my upper body for some reason. She especially hated my .357 magnum revolver, at which I practiced until I no longer anticipated recoil and stopped sucking at it. To her, it was a reminder that I was still a Montana redneck with a Blackfoot grandmother who grew up in Billings and often fished in the lakes near the Bighorn Mountains.

"So, what do you do for a living?" I asked the blonde out of curiosity, as the song faded.

"Oh, my God, you really don't know, do you? Must not watch much cable," she grinned, somewhat embarrassed by her earlier expectation that I should recognize her.

"Well, mostly documentaries, Sci-Fi channel, things like that. I'm a big fan of Adam Richman, though not of some of his online tirades. Then again, he's human, celeb or not. I'd hate to think that my every word was treated as the final word on who and what I am. My wife has given me enough shit as it is, which is why I left her," I commented casually.

"You're married?" the blonde gave me a crooked smile.

"Estranged, yes, but I haven't bothered to take off the band yet. Probably should, huh?" I showed her my wedding ring.

"Yeah, probably should in most cases. If I wasn't such a self-pitying, self-absorbed prima donna, I'd have noticed your wedding band by now. Anyway, I'm an actress. I was on Smallville for a while. That's a series about the young Superman," she explained.

"I see. I've heard of it, just never broke down and watched it, probably due to my bad experience with Lois and Clark. Teri Hatcher and Dean Cain ruined that whole thing for me back in the 90s. Molly loves that show, but I can't stand it. Anyway, I'm a chef. Nice to meet you. I'm Jack Phelps. No relation to the reverend, thank God!" I told the sassy blonde with the short hair.

"Allison Mack, but please don't tell anyone. I just want to be incognito and so far it has worked, though that's not very flattering to me," she whispered to me.

"Well, how about I call you 'Allie' for now? Your secret's safe with me. It's probably due to the nature of your audience. Most cult TV is like that. Now, if I had seen Sherilyn Fenn in here, I'd have recognized her from the other end of the bar. Why? Because I used to watch Twin Peaks religiously. As for flattery, think of this. I hadn't the foggiest clue in the world that you were famous, whatever list you're considered to be, and I still wanted to dance with you. Take that for what it's worth," I observed.

"Come to think of it, you have a point. You found me attractive on your own, without being told something to prejudice you in my favor. So, a chef, huh? And your wife hasn't tried harder to keep you? Is it your cooking or just her pride? I might have to get you to cook for me some time, just to find out what drew her in the first place and why she has given up what seems to be a real catch," Allie teased me a little.

"It's not the cooking, I promise you that. I've gotten nothing but top reviews for my culinary skills from the best food critics in town. To be honest, though, Molly never wanted me to cook for her, preferring to use staff, because that's what socialites and their trophy husbands do. We don't cook. We let the help do that. Granted, I've often been too tired of cooking by the end of the day, but on my days off, I frequently wanted to cook for Molly and bring her things like breakfast in bed, and she would have none of that business. I was of her class now and shouldn't lift a finger for myself. It was undignified for a gentleman like myself.

"She really wished that I would retire and let my skills deteriorate, since her father had more money than God. However, on that point, Daddy agreed with me instead, knowing that a man wants to earn something in life, not just have it handed to him. Hell, to quote Ricky Skaggs, 'I'm just a country boy, a country boy at heart.' I work for a living. I take pride in my trade. I didn't want to just become arm candy and a glorified errand boy for my wife," I vented my spleen at last, to a Hollywood actress no less!

"So, wait, she had a man who knew how to cook and wanted to do it for her now and then, and she refused to eat your cooking or even try it out? What is she, nuts? What kind of food do you cook, anyway?" Allie wondered.

"I cook a lot of different things, from the high-brow gourmet crap that I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole myself except to sample to the deep-fried country gravy stuff that will kill you with a massive coronary but is to die for, if you ask me. I think that it's helpful to know all that stuff, in fact. It gives me a lot of versatility, you see," I clarified.

"Hmm ... you can cook. Can you fuck? I mean, really? If you're that hot of a commodity, I wouldn't mind a fling. Not a serious relationship and I would plead with you not to kiss and tell, but a nice rebound affair where I can take your mind off your fucked-up wife. That's not good for a marriage or anything like that, but neither of us is ready for that, anyway. Hell, I'm not sure that either of us will marry again, so it's always possible we might hook up in the future, but I won't make any promises, and neither should you. It's just too soon, wouldn't you agree?" Allie proposed.

"So, you and me, a little privacy and a little time of steamy sex? Sounds like a winner to me. I'll just have to make sure that I cook for you, too, somehow. Even if it's something simple. Thinking of a renting a cabin soon. That might be the place. Your call, of course. You're the one with the tighter schedule. I'm just in town to get laid and get my divorce. Your thoughts?" I presented the options.

"How about this? I'm between films right now. It's October now. I don't have to be anywhere for another six weeks. I don't even have anywhere to spend Thanksgiving this year, not since I broke up with my boyfriend. We go to this place of yours, I pay for the cabin while I'm here and you can decide if you want to move out afterward. By then, you can probably get a job and be able to take over payments or find a more permanent house. Face it, I do have more money. I'm rich and famous. Don't let pride stop us from having a good time.

"While we're there, you can cook to your heart's content and fuck me bow-legged. Just don't tell a soul, please. I don't think that I can handle betrayal anymore. You know what I mean, right? I trust you for some reason, so don't blow it, please. Just know that we've had something special, you and I. That would be enough for you, since you don't seem to be hung up on fame and celebrity, or am I dead wrong?" Allie suggested.

"Hmm ... the chance to cook for a sexy blonde and fuck her on a daily basis ... what sane man would pass that up? Or even crazy man, like me? I will take my secret to the grave, if I must," I winked at her.

"Man of honor, then. Good for you. Now, how about I get you signed out of whatever motel you're checked into and put you in my suite so I can spoil you rotten. Someone willing to cook for me deserves a little pampering of his own. I insist. You can pay me back later with all that fine cooking and fucking me blind. No gentle crap, either. We're not man and wife. I'm a grown woman, even if I look a little petite. I could use a little rough sex. Too many guys are afraid to risk offending me and they always kiss my ass. That gets old after a while. Okay, not the literal part of that, but well, you get the idea," she laughed at herself and her choice of words.

"Honey, if you want it rough, I'll oblige until you decide that you want otherwise. Depending on just how rough, how kinky, I think that a safe word might be wise. As for kissing that part of your anatomy, I was about to say that I wouldn't mind a good taste of it as well a chance to plant some kisses on it," I offered.

"Yeah, a safe word. That sounds sensible. What is that phrase, 'safe, sane, and consensual?' That way, if you want to tie me up and ravage me, we can draw a clear line between bondage and rape. I'm actually rather kinky that way, but my ex just didn't get that I can be a feminist and still like being dominated. He thought that I was sick for wanting it, but then he wanted me to top him and it just wasn't my thing. I tried it, but I didn't care for it at all. When he started suggesting weird shit like cock and ball torture, chastity, orgasm denial, and cuckolding, I was done. I gave him the boot, just not how he wanted it. I don't want to be the top. I want to be the bottom, you see? I'm submissive, not dominant. Promise to keep that a secret, too?" she pleaded with me.

"Of course, hon. Well, anyway, before someone overhears us, let's go," I agreed, as we left the floor, having dance and paid our tabs.

Settling up with the motel was easy enough, mostly because the desk clerk knew the power of money, even if like me, he didn't know a TV actress from a cable network. Allie batting her pretty blue eyes at him didn't hurt, either. The next time that I knew, I was in Allie's bed in her suite, watching as she undressed in front of me and showed me her thong, which she slid down while with her back to me. This meant that I saw her ass before her pussy, but it didn't matter, as she hadn't left much to the imagination once she was in her undies, anyway.

When I saw Allie kneel before me and put my dick in her mouth, I nearly came right then, but I held back from my own willpower. While I didn't know that she was a celebrity before, the realization that someone rich and famous willingly put her lips on my cock and started licking it like a Fudgesicle was more than enough to arouse me. I couldn't get my own wife to suck my dick, but Allison fucking Mack from Smallville, one of the sexiest women I had ever met, who had men drooling over her, wanted to practically inhale my cock as she Hoovered it.

"You're too backed up, honey. Come on ... I mean, cum on. Cum down my throat. Let me swallow your load. Face fuck me and use my throat like a pussy!" Allie egged me on.

That kind of talk made it even tougher to hold off, but first I followed her suggestions, actively throat-fucking her. My hands were on her head, messing up her hairdo, but she didn't complain at all. Instead, she licked me as much as she could, until at last I exploded down her gullet, shooting my spunk in the mouth of this lovely actress. I then pulled her up to me and planted a serious French kiss on her, accepting my snowball in the process and enjoying the passion of that moment. My hands explored her ass as well, as she started stroking my dick to get me hard again.

"Damn, your boyfriend wanted you to deny him this? I'll never get that!" I exclaimed, especially after she began caressing my balls.

"Honey, I'm still figuring out how that foolish bitch Molly let a fine stud like you break free of her. I'd be stalking you by now, going out of my way to seduce you back into my bed. Then again, I'd never have treated you like that, anyway. You'd get my ass, my mouth, my pussy, anything that you wanted in bed, except that weird crap that makes me respect a man less. If I weren't worried about some star struck bitch telling everyone, I'd even be up for trying a threesome. I'm bisexual. I've dated women before, even slept with them.

"Now, how about fucking me in the missionary position? Pin me. Hold me down by the wrists, shove your cock inside me and take me, bareback. Yes, I'm taking that risk, but I have my reasons. Trust me, I'm clean. Would I lie to you, knowing that you could sue me for millions? As for you, well, you've been married, haven't you? You don't exactly seem practiced enough at this to have been stepping out on your old lady until now, either. She doesn't sound like the sort to even care about sex. She sounds like one of those women who are 'too nice' to fuck their husbands properly, let alone other men. Anyway, my body, my risk. What do you say?" Allie encouraged me.

"But you're on the pill, then, right?" I asked her, as I actually pinned her ... I had Allison Mack pinned by the wrists and was about to fuck her like crazy.

"Sure, sweetie," Allie told me, not saying much about it, "just fuck me. No need to eat me first. Eat me later. I want your cock inside me. I'm very wet."

Sure enough, I was buried deep inside Allie and I realized that we hadn't agreed on a safe word, but then this was relatively light bondage. Allie's hips moved so eagerly that I had a really hard time controlling my release, just as she clamped down on my dick with the muscles in her pussy. She was extremely wet, just as she said, and I could tell that she was about to cum herself, especially from the way that she bit her bottom lip and her juicy twat became even wetter ... she creamed herself while I had her pinned down and helpless.

"We need a safe word, Allie," I told her.

"How about, 'preggers'?" Allie grinned as she realized something while I hammered her from above.

"Strange choice, but sure, why not? If you weren't on the pill, you'd be that way soon," I finally flooded her pussy with my load at the thought of knocking her up.

"Yes, knock me up!" Allie screamed as she came at last and I pulled out of her.

"What?" I expressed shock.

"Honey, please don't get mad, but I kinda told you a little white lie. I'm not on the Pill. It wasn't deliberate deception or anything. I was protected this morning, but I remembered while you had me cumming that more than 24 hours had passed since I had taken my last one. Anyway, by then, I was so turned-on that I couldn't stop you, even more so once I realized that you could make me conceive at last. I could have a nice little reminder of our time together.

"Plus now I don't have to keep everything about us a secret. In fact, I can't anymore. There's no longer a need to hide a thing about us. Don't worry, baby. I'm keeping this one. I'll raise it, but if you ever want visitation rights, well, let's just say that perhaps you can visit more than our offspring. How does that sound? Of course, we don't know for sure if it took, but now I'm hooked on that idea and I want it to happen. Do it for me, please. Knock me up," Allie urged me.

"You're serious?" I made sure of this critical point, since it was a big fucking deal.

"As the heart attack that your cooking will probably give me, if you really can cook the kind of greasy, fatty, country food that you claim. The more I get to know you, the less I want to hide things like I did when we first met. The more I want you in my life. It's too early for marriage, I understand, but I want you in my life on a regular basis and I want you to father all of my children. Yes, that's right. I plan to have at least two kids and they will both be yours. Just fucking take me and make me your bitch! I don't care about secrecy or being PC or a feminist or any of that stuff anymore. I just want to be your slut!"

"Then you mean it? This is a long-term commitment you're talking about, honey. All on the basis of one dance, a blowjob, and one frantic romp that may or may not have impregnated you. I haven't even cooked for you yet or had that time at that cabin, Allie. What's next? Me collaring you? Or something more conventional, like marriage? A lengthy love affair? Friends with benefits?" I observed, as I kissed her skin and turned her over to enter her again from behind.

I should by all rights have been soft by now, but, hey, Allison Mack wanted me to knock her up and claim her as my woman. That would have most men's engines running, even if only on fumes. I really trouble believing it myself. I must have answered some primal need in her, somewhere, somehow. I had to fuck her, and God did I ever. My cock plowed her pussy furiously, eliciting screams and moans from her, even the gritting of her teeth as I bottomed out in her cunt.

"Fuck, yes! Collar me! Make me your slut! Who am I kidding? I'm your fuck toy! I'm Jack Phelps's bitch!" she shouted as she began cumming yet again and bit her bottom lip once more.

"Still want that cabin out in the middle of nowhere?" I teased her after I spilled my seed inside her.

"Oh, God, yes, I do! I want that month or so to be your woman without any distractions, enjoy your cooking, learn at the feet of the master, and fuck our brains out. As for your marriage, I think that you should give your wife another chance. This is how I see it. When she sees how happy you and I are together, she'll want you back and you should keep her as a wife, just fuck me on the side as your slut. We'll straighten her up together, baby. Trust me. Women's intuition. She was a hopeless case before, but now she isn't. It should be the three of us. You, me, and the missus. Just us. Care to give it a chance? She can have your ring. I want your collar. Promise me your collar and I'll die a happy girl, I swear," Allie surprised me with her proposed ménage a trois.

I was truly touched by Allie's sincerity and I fell in love with her right then. I realized that she wanted to please a man most of all. I suppose if I had seen Smallville before this, I would have already sensed it, but I had no clue until that night who she was, let alone that she had a truly submissive and sharing nature. She proved to be more right than I could ever guess, but at this point I had more hope than faith in her claim about Molly. Even so, I knew that I could never give her up. Allison Mack, whom I had never so much as heard of despite her fame, was now my slut, soon to be collared to me as my willing slave.

"Honey, you'll have my collar, I swear. What is it about me, though, that makes you so eager to belong to me, anyway?" I asked curiously, given how quickly she had changed her mind about keeping this casual.

"Jack, or should I say, Sir, I fell in love with you when I realized that you wanted me for myself, not just for my fame. You didn't have the first clue of my identity or my celebrity, but you found me a desirable woman and hit on me, anyway. Your every word and action showed me that Molly is a fool to take you for granted. You love to fuck, to cook, to dance, and to speak frankly. I never have to wonder about you. You're a straight-shooter and for that, I thank you. You made me believe that men could feel lust that strong, yet still know when to push the envelope and when to respect a girl's limits.

"Besides, you're a Dom, a Master, and a top. That's just what your slut needs from here on out. Molly can be your wife, but I will always be your slut. I'll fuck you and her, but no one else. I hope that you do the same for me. Fuck us, but no one else. Trust me, it will be great for the three of us. No more condoms or pills for any of us. Just lots of fucking and breeding, not to mention whips and chains," Allison told me as we kissed and she arched her back to present me with her ass.

'Now, how about you fuck me here? Pretty please, Sir? Take my ass and make it yours," Allie urged me breathlessly.

"Well, when you put it that way... ," I smiled as I lubed up and prepared to fuck Allison Mack in her delectable ass.

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