Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, DomSub, MaleDom,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - What happens when a man finds himself with a slave he didn't know he wanted? Joe is an older man, a widower, with a stable life and career. When a favor for a relative nets him a strange young girl as a ward, no one is more shocked than he is when she submits.
Thanks to the proofreading genius of Papakilo14, now with 99% fewer mistakes!
Joe tucked his rapidly shrinking cock back inside his trousers and zipped up, staring down at the raven-haired beauty who knelt at his feet. Though her head was still tilted down, he could see she was peering up at him through her long bangs and he was captivated by her eyes. In them he could see hope, a touch of fear and, most importantly, love.
He stroked her hair for a moment, and couldn’t help but smile as she rested her head on this thigh, almost purring.
“I’ll be home in a couple of hours, Marta. I can stop and pick up dinner on my way home, would you like that?”
Marta didn’t say a word, she never did, but Joe could feel her nod against his thigh and, with a small sigh, pulled away and left the house.
As his car pulled out of the drive, he still marveled at how he, a widowed geek, had come to have ... well, there was no other term for it, though it made him feel terribly guilty, a sex slave.
Thirty-five and widowed, he had lived alone since his wife had died two years before. A lonely college boy who had never even kissed a girl, he had been shocked, and honored, when his late wife and chosen him and announced that she was going to marry him, that he should resign himself to his fate with a smile.
Oh how he had smiled.
Cristy had been enrolled in the same college and they had met at the library. She had walked up to the table where Joe sat, his nose buried in his books, and sat down without a word, laying her own books out across from his. Joe hadn’t even realized she was there, at first, until she had slipped a sheet of paper over the top of the page he had been reading.
Startled, he looked up owlishly, first at the radiant smile of the girl across from him, then rapidly scanning the room to see just who she was smiling at in the first place.
Confused, he looked down at the errant piece of paper and only then noticed the writing.
“My name is Cristy, and I think I would like to get to know you.”
Joe read the note. Then he read it again, glanced at the beautiful face, and read the note a third time.
“Um...” he started, his eyes flicking from the note to Cristy’s face, and back again. “I think you ... er ... dropped this?” he finished on a high note, as if not sure whether he was asking her or telling her.
“Oh no,” Cristy replied, her smile becoming, impossibly, even brighter, “I most carefully set it there in front of you, certain that you were not going to introduce yourself. You seemed most intent on your book.”
Joe, quite honestly, was dumbfounded. Again he scanned the room, certain that this was some kind of prank. It was a joke being played on him by his fellow students, none of whom he counted as friends.
Joe had faced his fair share of bullies and pranks in high school, and had hoped he had left all of that behind him when he entered college. Still, there was a chance he was wrong, and it never paid to be discourteous. He screwed up his courage and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible
“Hello Cristy, my name is Joe Morgan. I am very pleased to meet you. I hope you will excuse my bad manners, I was quite involved with my studies. I am, well, I am not used to being approached by beautiful women and I find myself at a loss.”
Joe studied Cristy’s expression as he spoke, hoping for some sign to indicate if she was buying his act. He was stunned when Cristy cocked her head slightly, winked at him and grinned.
“That’s quite all right, my dear fellow,” she began, recognizing Joe’s bravado for what it was, “I simply had to meet you. You see, mother told me that college was the perfect place for a well brought up young lady to find a husband. When I saw you sitting there, studying so assiduously, I thought to myself, “There is a handsome fellow who is serious about getting ahead.” and I plucked up my courage and came straight over.”
Joe, goggle-eyed, his jaw hanging open, felt himself start to grin, and it quickly turned into a giggle, then an outright laugh.
Cristy, losing her battle to keep a straight face, laughed just as hard and reached across the table, grabbing Joe’s hand and shaking it vigorously.
When the laughter died, Joe looked in wonder at his hand, still being held lightly by the blond beauty across from him, and was smitten.
Joe and Cristy became an instant item and stayed that way all through college. It was only a couple of months into their relationship when Cristy had given him ‘The Speech’ (it had always been so, capitalized and bold, in his memory) about marriage.
“Joe Morgan, listen closely to me. I love you with all my heart, and I am going to marry you. You might as well just smile and enjoy it because you haven’t any choice in the matter. Now that we have that straight, I am so very tired of waiting and I want you. Now.”
Cristy had taken Joe’s hand and pulled him to her bed and given him her virginity that night, taking his in the process.
They married a week after graduation, attended by a few close friends and Cristy’s family. Joe was an orphan, his parents had passed away when he was a teen and he was estranged from his more distant relatives, so he felt doubly blessed by the warm embrace of Cristy’s relatives.
They had been very much in love, and he was absolutely devastated when, less than 10 years later, Cristy had been diagnosed with cervical cancer and withered away in less than a year.
Joe was almost inconsolable and practically locked himself away in the house they had built, wandering from room to room, his gaze passing over the photos and mementos of their too short time together.
They had no children, in hindsight he supposed the cancer was probably the reason, and he credited Cristy’s family with saving him from himself. He had, once he had laid his wife to rest, given serious consideration to taking his own life.
Her relatives, who loved Joe as much as Cristy had, saw his pain and made sure that there was always someone there to look after him.
It took a year and a half for Joe to lift his head, bury his pain and start to live again. He spend a solid month packing away Cristy’s things, donating most of them. He stored away their mementos, their shared treasures and all but one of their photographs.
He kept a single picture of Cristy, one he had taken himself on their honeymoon. In it, Cristy was smiling, her eyes sparkling, the wind ruffling her golden locks as she stared out at the ocean. It was, in his mind, the perfect image of the woman he wanted to remember.
As time passed, Joe buried himself in his work. He took a position with his firm that allowed him to work at home and remodeled part of the house. He built himself a high-tech office in the room that had, originally, been planned as a nursery and there he spent most of his days and evening.
His only real contacts with the outside world were over his phone and computer. He was an active member of several web-based communities and hobbies, and of course he was on the phone all day with his work colleagues. The only times he left his house were to run errands and to visit his in-laws.
Joe would make it a point to, at least once a week, visit Cristy’s relatives. They loved him and were a tangible link to his late wife. In return, he loved them back and made sure that he was available whenever they needed something.
His sister-in-law lived with her aging mother and he was the go-to guy for leaky faucets, squeaking hinges, hanging pictures and other domestic chores normally assigned to the man of the house. It made Joe feel useful and he loved puttering around their home. His mother-in-law, completely unlike the stereotype one usually associates with the title, was a wonderful woman who doted on him.
It all started three months ago, Joe had been hard at work, trying to find a bug in some code he had been writing, when his office phone rang. He answered it distractedly, thinking it was a work call.
“Joe Morgan, Fields & Pierce Consulting. May I help you?”
“Joe, it’s Jackie. Can you come over this evening?”
Jacquiline was his sister-in-law and Cristy’s older sister. A vivacious spinster and lifelong lesbian who looked after her mother, she had never been interested in marriage and never failed to have a lover, or three, on the hook at any one time. She was a larger than life character, and a wonderful, caring woman.
“Sure Jackie, no problem. Is it that faucet in the outside bathroom again?”
Jackie’s house had a small pool in the back yard and she had installed a bathroom, accessible from the outside for guests, so they wouldn’t have to track water across her living room. The faucet had sprung a leak the week before and Joe had stopped by to fix it, though he had told her she would need to replace it soon.
“No, Joe, it’s something else, but I really need you to come over this evening. I don’t want to talk about it on the phone. Sorry for sounding mysterious, but you will see when you get here.”
“No problem, I’ll stop by about 6, ok?”
“Thanks Joe, you are a doll! I will see you then. Plan on staying for dinner, Mom is making Lasagna!”
Joe was still hard at work, chasing that elusive bug in his code when 5:30 rolled around, but he set it all aside and shut down for the day. A quick shower, some respectable clothes (he loved working in shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops) and he was out the door with time to spare.
Jackie and her mother lived about ten miles away, in a reclaimed and revitalized neighborhood that was the known for its bohemian residents. Artists and musicians, dreamers, schemers and, inevitably, the hip place for the LGBT crowd. Even with evening traffic, he was at the door five minutes early.
“Joe!” Jackie gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for coming over. Can I get you something to drink?”
Joe just shook his head and walked over to his mother-in-law, giving her a kiss on the cheek as well, then flopped down on the couch.
“No, I am ok. I’ll wait until dinner”
Jackie sat down on a chair across the small coffee table from Joe and her face was unusually grave.
“Look Joe, I have a favor to ask and it’s a big one. It’s kind of unusual too, so hear me out first then I will try to answer your questions.” She sat for a moment, obviously gathering her thoughts and then continued.
“You know that I do volunteer work at the shelter, right?” Jackie looked up, waiting for his response. She spent several hours each week as a volunteer counselor at a Womens’ shelter in the city. The shelter was a place for battered, abused and at-risk women, somewhere they could stay and feel safe. They would get medical care, professional counseling, job training and even assistance in hiding if the situation warranted.
Joe nodded, not saying anything, wondering where she was going with this.
“There is a young lady named Marta who was brought in by the police department. They were concerned that she had been raped or abused, and that she really belonged in a psych ward, but there were no available beds at the county hospital. You know how strapped they are for funding these days.”
“Anyway, they brought her to us, but just being in the shelter made things worse for her. She went almost catatonic, weeping and curling up in the fetal position on the lobby floor. She would start shaking if any of the nurses so much as touched her. It was very puzzling, and the female police officers who brought her to us confirmed that she had the same reaction to them.”
“Funny enough, it was the UPS guy that helped us figure out, at least partially, what the problem might be. He showed up, waited outside like he always does since he knows what we do and knows he is less threatening on the far side of the security doors. When Marta saw him, she starting crawling toward him, almost mewling like a little child.”
Joe stared at Jackie, shocked at what he was hearing, and saw tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Joe, we brought in Dr. Wallace, who looks like Santa Clause, or what Santa would look like if he were a dwarf since he is maybe five feet tall. Marta latched on to him like a limpet and only a shot of tranquilizer got her relaxed enough to sleep. He moved her to a private facility and, over the last few weeks, he has come up with a theory, though it can’t have been easy. Joe, she doesn’t talk. Not a single word in almost a month. She can talk, her vocal cords work, but she doesn’t.”
Joe could see the pain and shock in Jackie’s face as she recalled the memories. He kept silent, just nodding to encourage her to continue.
“Dr. Wallace thinks that she has been abused, but by women. Mother, sister, aunt, something like that. She had several medical issues when she arrived, malnutrition and dehydration the most serious. She had lice, rope burns on her wrists and ankles, cigarette burns on her arms and legs, and even on her breasts. Someone tortured that poor girl and he is convinced that it was a woman, or a group of women.”
“Marta is getting better, but the private facility is pushing to get that bed space back for a paying client. There is simply no way she can go to the shelter, surrounded by women. She would relapse and might never recover. She need a quiet, stable place to heal, to let her relax, and it has to be free of women.”
Joe looked at Jackie, shocked and dismayed. He could see it coming, and he was almost speechless.
“You can’t mean...”
“Joe, we know you. We know what a good, kind and honest man you are. If this was a year ago, we would never even have thought about it, but you have had some time to heal and I know you can do this. When I described you, and your situation, to Dr. Wallace, he thought it was a great idea.”
“You live alone in that big old house. You are quiet, thoughtful and kind, and she needs that. She needs you, Joe. Not to be a father, or brother or even a lover, but to be a supportive friend.”
“This is an insane idea, Jackie!” Joe sputtered, floored that she would even suggest such a thing.
“You said you would hear me out and I am not finished.” Jackie continued, holding his gaze until she could see him relent.
“Marta needs a place to be. A place to feel safe, a place to discover who she is. Joe, they had to teach her to tie shoelaces, for god’s sake! She’s nineteen years old and she could hardly dress herself.”
“When we, the Doctor and I, were discussing her with the other councilors and he laid out the requirements, you came to mind. I didn’t volunteer you, in fact I didn’t say a word. I went home and chewed it over, tried to consider every angle, lost a lot of sleep before I came to the conclusion that it would be good for her, and good for you.”
Jackie saw the wounded look in his eye and knew he was offended by the very notion of another woman in the house he had shared with Cristy. She also saw the confusion, and she knew his next objection before he even spoke.
“What do I know about a damaged teenager? How am I supposed to help her when not that long ago I couldn’t help myself.” He paused for a moment, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “How can you ask me to bring a woman...” his voice trailed off and he stared at his feet.
Jackie reached across and tapped Joe on the knee, and when he looked up, “Joe, think about it, ok? Christy gave her time at the clinic too, and she cared deeply about the women we help there. What would she want you to do?”
Jackie sat back and waited, watching as Joe’s internal struggle played out across from her. His thoughts were written in his expressions, in the tension of his shoulders and the white knuckled fingers gripping his knee.
Jackie loved Joe with no reservations. If she had had even the slightest interest in men as other than friends, she might have ... well, it didn’t matter. She knew that she was the wrong person for him, and fooling herself would have led to even more heartache in his life.
She had known from an early age that men were creatures of hard angles, flat planes, straight lines and barriers. They fascinatingly complex and simple, all at once, and she knew in her soul that they were not for her. She wanted soft curves, yielding surfaces, open boundaries and the intimacy that only another woman could provide.
Still, as much as she missed Cristy, and every day she seemed to miss her more, she loved Joe. She had been there to hold him when her sister had died, seen the torment in his eyes and known with every fiber of her being that he was a man riding the ragged edge. She saw how close he had come and she had vowed then to do what her sister would have wanted, save him.
Joe was a rangy six footer, a touch heavy, but he had the frame to carry a few extra pounds and make it look good. He had started going bald early but had zero vanity and had simply shaved his head ... and he made that look good too. He should be out there by now, looking for someone to fill the hole in his life.
Instead, she had been watching as he withdrew from the world, living inside his house and only leaving for supplies, or to come to her aid.
Hell, it had taken her almost an hour to figure out how to break that damn faucet in the outside bathroom, all to give him something to do!
This might be just the ticket for him. No, not as a romance match, Marta surely didn’t need that and Joe didn’t need damaged goods. But caring for someone, stepping outside himself to do for another human being, having a woman in the house in any capacity, couldn’t help but be good for him.
“Joe, you do not need to make a decision tonight, I just want you to think about it. Consider it.” Jackie stood and grabbed his hand, pulled him up from the couch and pointed him towards the kitchen.
Her mother had been sitting at the counter, watching and listening. She nodded at Jackie, and winked. Feed a man, pamper him a bit and even the biggest problems could be worked out.
Joe didn’t remember the drive home and he crawled into bed, his mind still awhirl with the monumental task that had been asked of him. He lay there for a long time before sleep came.
The morning sun, streaming through the blinds on his bedroom window brought him awake. Stretching and yawning, he padded to the bathroom and started the shower, determined to not think about last night until he had some coffee and maybe some food in his belly.
Joe stopped in front of the mirror and examined himself, looking into his own eyes and asking ... Could I? Should I? He knew that Cristy would have urged him to help, but she was gone and he was alone. He didn’t know if he could deal with another person in the house he had had all to himself for so long.
A long, hot shower, several cups of coffee and a bowl of cereal later, he didn’t have an answer.
As Joe sat down at his desk and tried to work, his mind kept worrying the problem until he threw his hands up in exasperation. Switching from his work station to his home station, he starting searching the web for information. Teens, young women, victims of abuse, treatment and care. He needed information to make an informed decision.
Hours passed and he found himself fascinated by the flood of data available. Joe read and read and when he finally sat back, he knew that he had already decided and was dithering. He knew he had to help, but he was still afraid.
Sighing, he stood and stretched the kinks out before reaching for the phone.
“Jackie? I’ll do it. I don’t know how, and I am still not at all comfortable with any of this, but I am willing to help.”
Joe was scheduled to meet with Dr. Wallace, Jackie and Marta on Saturday, just two days from now. He had a lot to do before then.
First things first, he had to make some changes around the house. He wandered from room to room, cleaning and picking up the detritusc of bachelorhood. Forgotten books on tables, a stray sock that had somehow found its way under the bar, his work boots in the spare bathroom.
He cleared his winter clothes out of the bureau in the spare bedroom, took the half-dozen boxes of ‘stuff’ he had put in the closet and moved them to the garage. He changed the sheets, opened windows to air the place out and added towels and assorted supplies to the bath. A hundred little things that Cristy used to take care of, and that he had let slide.
The spare bedroom had been a project for his late wife. She had wanted a room to decorate by herself, from ceiling to floor. It was a quintessentially girly bedroom with soft pastel paint, 50’s era repop furniture and decorations. It even had a neon-circled clock on the wall that had once hung in a local bowling alley.
To all of this, Joe added some modern conveniences. A flat screen TV for the wall and a DVR for the cable service and a new phone he would have connected to a separate line. The guest bath was right next door, though not en suite like the master bedroom and the only other rooms on this side of the house were his exercise room and the laundry. His bedroom and his office were on the far side of the house.
She would have all the privacy she wanted.
When Joe had started working from home, he knew he would need a way to stay active or end up looking like Jabba the Hut. He had cleaned out Cristy’s office and turned it into a little gym. There was a treadmill facing a flatscreen on the wall, an exercise bike, a stair-stepper and even a small situp bench with some dumbells. Mirrors along one wall finished the look and he took the time to make sure everything was ship shape and working smoothly.
Joe’s next tasks were simpler but he had to make several stops. First to the pharmacy for a new toothbrush, toothpaste, combs, brushes, a makeup mirror and so on. His towels and washcloths were plain white so he didn’t need much in the way of linens, but he did stop by the hardware store and bought a keyed entry set for the spare room. He wanted her to be able to secure her space if she felt the need.
Once he had it installed, all he had to do was wait.
On the fateful Saturdy, Joe met Jackie at Dr. Wallace’s office and got a very thorough briefing on what he might expect. Since Marta still wasn’t talking, they couldn’t really be sure of anything. She would communicate with nods, shakes of the head and shrugs. Non-verbal cues helped, but real communication would be needed to make therapeutic progress.
For now, Joe was just to take things day by day. Be a strong, supportive presence and help her to feel safe. She was prone to crying jags and despondency, and the doctor gave him some tips on how to distract her, chivvy her out of her depression.
Joe explained how he had prepared her a space of her own, complete with privacy and a locking door, and was pleased when the doctor congratulated him on forsight.
“One thing that we need to discuss, Joe.” The doctor looked grave, and held Joe’s gaze.
“From what I have seen of you, and what Jackie has told me, I am sure that this is not going to be an issue, but I would be remiss if I did not at least address the elephant in the room. This is a fragile young lady who had obviously been through some severe trauma. She may act out in some non-obvious ways and that may include a sexual component.”
“It is not unusual for an abused person to seek out a savior and project emotions onto that person. They may become infatuated, or they could even feel that such behavior is needed to keep the person near them. Please don’t take offense when I say this, but I don’t want you to be that person.”
“Eventually, when she is healthier and happier, I would be overjoyed if she were to fall in love, and do things normal girls of her age would do, but she is a long way from ready today. Just be there for her, be a father figure if needed. Provide her with structure and, as paradoxical as it may sound, as little stress as possible.”
Joe nodded to show his understanding, but couldn’t help feel just a little offended. He wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of a girl in Marta’s position. He knew the doctor was just doing his job, but damn it, Joe had integrity too!
From the Doctor’s office to the private facility where Marta had been staying took only long enough for Joe to get nervous again.
He followed Wallace and Jackie into the lobby, and waited while the doctor fetched his charge. Wallace returned shortly, leading a tiny, painfully thin girl by the hand and carrying a small valise in the other.
Marta was all of five feet tall and if she weighed more than 90lbs, Joe would eat his own boot. Even through the opaque blouse she wore, Joe could tell that her ribs were painfully evident, and her joints almost seemed to big for the limbs to which they were attached.
Her hair was raven black, but lank and stringy, hanging down to her shoulders in back with long bangs obscuring her face in front. He could just see a glint, as if she was carefully peering through her bangs, using them as a barrier between her and the world around her.
She shuffled behind the doctor, her feet never rising higher than absolutely needed to move forward. She wore a pair of plain, leather sandals and Joe could see that her toenails, and her fingernails, were chipped and chewed.
Jackie moved quietly over to the side and kept her gaze on the windows, almost afraid to breathe in case it scared the girl. Joe, on the other hand, stepped slowly forward and stood slightly more than arms length away.
“Marta, I am Joe, and it’s really nice to meet you. Doctor Wallace told you I was coming to see you?”
The waif of a girl looked first to Wallace, as if seeking permission, then, eyes cast toward the ground, her head bent, slowly nodded at Joe.
“Marta, Doctor Wallace thought that we could be friends, that maybe we could help each other. See, I live all by myself in this big house and it gets a little lonely there. I was told that you need a place to stay, and I was thinking that you might like to come and help keep that big place from feeling so empty.”
Joe waited, but Marta didn’t move. She gave no indication that she had even heard a word he had said. He pressed on anyway.
“You would have your own bedroom, and your own bathroom, and as much space and privacy as you could want. You even get your own TV and your own telephone. Does that sound like something you might like?” Joe was starting to worry that she wouldn’t respond at all, and that his trip here was doomed.
He was immensely gratified to see that Marta had nodded, just once, but it was definite.
“Would you like to come home with me? I won’t make you, you know. It is completely up to you.”
Marta looked at Doctor Wallace again, but his face was placid and unconcerned, evincing neither approval nor disapproval, just polite interest.
Marta seemed to freeze for a moment, then nodded a Joe again before shrinking back a bit, as if she feared she had been too forward.
Wallace stepped forward and, because he still lightly held Marta’s hand, encouraged her to step up as well. He handed Joe the bag he carried, then he placed her thin hand into Joe’s, then stepped aside.
Joe had never felt so afraid of his own strength before. Her fingers were cool, and so very, very thin that he was afraid the slightest touch would break something. Applying just the tiniest bit of pressure, he moved his, and her, hand toward the door. It was more of an invitation than it was a tug, and Marta accepted.
Marta looked back only once, and Doctor Wallace smiled at her.
“We will see each other again soon, my dear. I will ask Joe to bring you to see me in a couple of weeks, after you have settled in. We still have a lot to talk about, you and I.”
Without acknowledging the doctors comment, Marta turned and followed Joe out the door.
Once Marta was safely ensconced in the passenger seat, she immediately locked her door and seemed to slump, a lot of the tension leaving her body in a whoosh of air.
Joe noticed and took note, but didn’t say anything until they were on the road.
“So...” he temporized, searching for a safe topic. “It’s only about a 30 minute drive home,” he paused, wondering if that was the right word to use, “Are you hungry? Thirsty? We could stop and get something to eat.”
He watched Marta in the corner of his eye, his attention mostly on the road. He saw her twitch and lean forward a bit at the mention of food, then turn slightly away, her gaze taking in the passing scenery. His mind churning, he though she wanted the food, but didn’t want to stop. That she locked the door as soon as she was seated spoke volumes, he just hoped he was translating correctly.
“Tell you what, let’s not stop anywhere, we can just use the drive-through and not have to leave the car.” He had to hide a grin as he watched the girl. She had tensed again when he started speaking, but had actually turned toward him, just a bit, when he said they could stay in the car.
He could see a bit more of her face from this angle, and he thought she might actually be cute with a few more pounds on her lean frame, filling out her hollow cheeks.
Ordering food at the drive-through was a process all on its own. He read through the menu, trying to guage her desire by her reactions.
“Chicken sandwich, Hamburger, Cheeseburger...” Ah ... that was the ticket, a cheeseburger. She had twitched, just a bit. He ordered some fries and a strawberry shake to go with the burger, and tried not to stare as she tore in to the bag before they were even out of the parking lot.
“Marta, we’re home.” Joe reached out, not quite touching the girl’s arm as he rolled to a stop in his driveway. After devouring her meal, she had simply curled up and appeared to drop off into sleep.
Awake now, Marta was looking around his yard, and taking in the sight of her new home.
Joe and Cristy had purchased a large, five acre lot on the edge of town and built their home smack dab in the middle. It offered a lot of privacy and a good view of the surrounding forest through every window. Towering oaks in the front and rear yards provided plenty of shade in the summer months and a picturesque view during the winters.
The house itself was a rambling ranch-style home, with kitchen, laundry and guest spaces on the far left. The living area, family room and dining room were central to the structure and the master bedroom and his office took up the right third.
Behind the house was a large four-car garage with a bonus room above. The garage held his ‘toys’, a 69 Chevelle and a pair of motorcycles, as well as the overflow from the house. Like every other family in the world, they had accumulated things that were too good to throw away, but not dear enough to keep inside, a dichotomy that had always tickled Joe’s sense of the ridiculous.
Marta seemed content to sit right where she was, taking in the scenery. She made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt or unlock the door. Joe reached over, slowly, and hit the release for her belt with his right hand while thumbing the door lock control with his left.
“Let’s go inside and I will give you the tour, ok?”
Marta didn’t respond, but did climb out of the car and, moving faster than he had seen her move thus far, scurried around the car to stand behind and slightly to the right of him. Joe motioned her forward, indicating that she should walk with him, but she just stood there, waiting.
Shaking his head, he began to walk slowly towards the front door, aware that she was following closely, almost as if she were a retreiver, heeling at her owners side. The thought was disconcerting.
Inside the house, Joe started on the right where his office and bedroom lay, pointing out each doorway and explaining the purpose of each room as he passed.
“That’s my office. I spend most of my days in there working. You are welcome to come in any time I am in there, but you will have to be quiet if I am on the phone, ok?” Joe couldn’t help but wonder if that would ever be a real issue.
“Next is my room, where I sleep. Over here to the left is the family room, and you are welcome to use anything you see, any time you like. I want you to feel like this is your home too. Next is the dining room and the kitchen.” He paced slowly through the rooms, feeling slightly foolish as she followed silently.
“The bar is, I am afraid, off limits for now. You aren’t really old enough to be drinking and I think you need to get healthy again before we add things like that to your diet, eh? The kitchen is, of course, yours to do with what you will. There is plenty of fresh food in the refridgerator and the pantry is stocked. Help yourself to anything you want. There are sodas, and bottled water, though I can get you anything you need if you want something different.”
Still no reaction...
“Next is the laundry room. If you don’t know how to use the machines, I would be happy to teach you. For now, just put your dirty clothes in the hamper and I will take care of the rest.” Moving down the long hall, he ushered her into the guest bath.
“This is your bathroom. If you like, we can make it your private bath and if we have visitors, I will let them use mine. I want you to feel like this part of the house is your private apartment, ok?” Joe paused, searching for a reaction from the girl. He could see her eyes darting back and forth, taking it all in, but she remained silent.
“Last, but not least, is your bedroom.” Joe removed a pair of keys from his pocket and used them to unlock the door. Then reaching out, he dangled the keys in front of her. “These are your keys. You will have the only set. You can lock your door from the inside and no one can get in unless you let them. You can keep it locked all of the time, if you like. It is your space, understood?”
Marta stood, her head bent but her eyes sneaking peeks at his face through her long bangs. She made no move to take the keys from his hand, and seemed to shrink back a bit.
Joe watched silently, waiting to see what she would do, unsure why she was so uncomfortable with the idea. Smiling slightly, so that Marta would see he was not upset or even displeased, he opened the door and stepped into her room, laying the keys on her dresser.
“You have plenty of storage space. I cleared out the dresser and the closet, and as soon as you feel up to it, we will go shopping and get you some new clothes, ok? I know that little bag you came with can’t hold much. Your TV has a DVR, a digital video recorder, and if you need any help figuring it out, just let me know. There is also a set of bluetooth headphones so you can watch TV as late and as loud as you want.”
Joe decided that she needed some space, so he told her he had a bit of work to do in his office, and she should feel free to make herself at home. Wander around if she wanted, or watch some TV, get a snack, even explore the yard.
Joe retired, or maybe retreated, to his office and tried to work for a couple of hours. He could see Marta through the open door, sitting in the living room, curled up on the couch and staring out the window. When he would leave his office, he could feel her eyes follow him, though as far as he could tell she never changed position. With the open floor plan she didn’t have to move to watch him as he traipsed back and forth.
This set the scene for the rest of the day. She would sit, silent and watchful, and always where she could see Joe as he moved around the house. When he made dinner, a light salad and some fresh fruit, she ate standing at the kitchen counter, ignoring his offer of a seat at the table. The rest of the day she just watched.
As silent as a mouse.
The next morning, Joe woke before the sun came up and lay silently, staring at the ceiling, listening for some sign that Marta was awake. The previous night, he’d had to almost herd her into her room, pulling back the covers and telling her to get a good night’s rest. He had felt her eyes on him as he left, and it had taken him a long time to finally get to sleep.
Wondering what the day would bring, he let out a big sigh and sat up, swinging his legs over the side. His feet touched something and he had no memory of levitating over to the far side of the bed, placing the mattress between him and whatever it was he had touched.
Over the edge of the mattress and piled linen, a head slowly appeared. The dark eyes, behind a hank of dark hair met his momentarily and the head quickly disappeared again, back below his sight line.
Skirting the bed, he could see that she was kneeling on the floor beside his bed, bent at the waist with her head almost touching her knees and facing away from him. She didn’t move, just sat there and he could see a shiver as it traced its way across her spare frame.
Cold or scared?
It was only then that Joe remembered he was naked. He hated sleeping in clothes and he hadn’t though, when he closed his bedroom door the night before, that he would have to change that. He snatched the top sheet off the bed and wrapped it around himself, blushing in embarrassment at what the girl must think.
He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, willing his racing heart to slow down, then knelt down beside Marta, touching her lightly on the shoulder with a single finger.
“Marta, why are you in my room? Did you wake up early?” A slight twitch of her head indicated a negative.
“You didn’t sleep here, did you?” he asked, aghast at the thought of the poor girl sleeping on the hard tile floor. Marta seemed to shrink further into herself, her forehead now resting almost touching the floor.
“Oh my.” Joe didn’t know what to think. “Don’t you like your room? The bed has to be a lot more comfortable than the hard floor.”
No response from Marta, not even a twitch.
“Were you afraid? Lonely? Look, honey ... it’s ok, I am not angry with you, I just feel bad about you sleeping on the cold floor. I want you to feel comfortable here, and safe.”
Marta unbent, just a little, but it was enough to see that she had been afraid of his reaction, terrified even.
Joe felt ashamed, even knowing that he had done nothing to provoke that reaction in the girl, but ashamed nonetheless. He hated that this poor girl was so timid, so beat down that even something as simple as this was enough to make her feel like that.
Joe slowly, carefully, laid his hand on her thin shoulder, just letting it rest there for a moment. “Come on Marta, sit here on the bed. I just need to put some clothes on, and then we’ll make coffe, have some breakfast, ok?”
Marta rose slowly, her eyes still on the ground, and sat gingerly on the very edge of the mattress. Her whole body was tense, as though poised for flight, and Joe retreated. Grabbing some shorts and a t-shirt from his dresser, he fled into his bathroom, sliding the door shut behind him.
After breakfast, Joe turned on the TV and made a bit of a production of changing channels, looking for a show to watch. He made sure that each of his movements, each control on the remote was visible to Marta. He felt kind of foolish, but if she had really been a prisoner, trapped in some hellish place, then she may not know what seemed to be instinctual in kids today.
Settling on the cartoon channel, for lack of any input from Marta, he set the remote next to her knee on the couch and went into his office.
As he sat down, his eye was drawn to something out of place on his desk.
A set of keys. Marta’s keys.
Joe sat and stared at them for a while, almost as if he were waiting for them to do something, to move on their own. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Marta had obviously placed them on his desk last night, after he had gone to bed, but what was the significance?
Did she want him to control access to her room? Was she afraid of what locking the door meant, of solitude? His discovery of her by his bed this morning seemed to track with that last thought, and he wondered if he was right. She had been a prisoner, after all, degraded, abused and tortured by her captors. Maybe she didn’t want to be confined to a room, alone with her thoughts and memories.
Joe made a decision, and called his boss. He had not taken a day off since his wife had died, and was had a lot of vacation time accrued. He would take a couple of weeks off, and get to know his new ward.
The following weeks flowed by and Marta seemed to grow more more comfortable with Joe. She would follow him around the house, yard and to the garage, watching silently as he puttered. She even began to participate, a bit.
When he would sort laundry, Marta would join in, handing him the dark or light clothes he needed for his current wash load. When he did dishes after a meal, Marta would dry and put them away, and he even found her with a broom in hand, sweeping up some crumbs that had fallen to the kitchen floor. It seemed that the only times they were separated were when she would use the restroom or the shower.
Two issues arose that left Joe feeling out of sorts.
Marta absolutely refused to sleep alone in her room, and after three mornings in a row of finding her on the floor, he had put his foot down.
“Marta, I cannot let you sleep on the cold tile! You make me feel guilty.” Joe almost bit his tongue, knowing that it was the wrong thing to say the moment it was out of his mouth. He could see her shrink into herself and begin to shake.
Joe laid his hand on her shoulder, and then his arm, hugging her to him and holding his breath while he waited to see how she would react. Marta stiffened at first, then laid her head on his chest, hesitantly, as if afraid of the consequences.
Joe gave her a little squeeze, then using the arm around her shoulders, urged her to stand, then sit on the bed. Thankfully, he was dressed, as he had decided that discretion was the buzzword and had slept in his gym shorts.
“Marta, I can’t make you sleep in your own bed, and I wouldn’t force you to in any case. I really do want what is best for you, and I want you to be happy.” He paused, trying to judge her reaction.
“If you insist on sleeping in here, would you at least sleep on the bed? I promise that I will stay on my side, and this king-size bed is plenty large enough for both of us.” Joe was certain that having Marta in his bed was the absolutely wrong thing to do, but he was out of ideas. He couldn’t have her sleeping on the floor like a dog and she was determined not to sleep in her room. At least with her on the bed, he wouldn’t be stepping on her in the morning and, frankly, he wouldn’t feel as guilty.
Marta seemed to freeze for a moment, then slowly nodded. The movement was small, and hesitant, but was unmistakable. From that day forward, she would crawl into bed, always curling up into a little ball on the far side of the mattress, and tucking the blanket up under her chin. Joe would wake in the morning, finding her exactly the same.
The other issue, though of lesser import, was that she absolutely refused to be in a room with the door closed, and that included the bathroom. Joe could clearly hear, well, everything as she attended to her business or took her daily shower. It was an odd, almost voyeuristic feeling that Joe wasn’t sure he disliked, and that added to his feelings of guilt.
As the days passed into weeks, and the weeks became months, the two developed a routine that was rarely varied. Once a week they would go to the grocery store, and run errands as needed. Marta seemed to take a quiet pleasure in actually choosing items to place in their shared shopping cart. At first hesitant, over time she started to show initiative, choosing a few items on her own.
Joe never said a word, letting her choose freely. He was just happy to see her coming out of her shell a little, though she remained steadfastly silent.
They even took a trip to a department store to shop for clothes, though Joe avoided the mall as possibly too overwhelming for Marta. She was diffident, not withdrawn, exactly, but unable or unwilling to choose clothes on her own. She would watch as Joe offered up piece after piece, never indicating one way or another her preference.
Joe chose outfits that he thought would flatter her, hoping that she would eventually be secure enough to choose her own. He did have a hard time when it came to undergarments though, embarrassed despite himself when he couldn’t stop his mind from picturing the girl wearing the items. It just didn’t seem right.
Marta had been living with Joe for almost two months when things started to change. Early on, he had set up a series of appointments so she could work with Dr. Wallace, receive counseling, but when it came time to actually leave the house for her appointments, she would become withdrawn again. After the first appointment, it took several days for her to return to her ‘normal’ self again.
When the day of the second appointment arrived, Marta actually shook her head emphatically, and knelt down by the door, almost begging not to be forced to go. Joe didn’t have the heart to make her, and he cancelled. In fact, he ended up cancelling all of her future appointments after a long talk with her therapist, postponing her treatment until some future, undefined date when she was more ready.
What really caused Joe the most problem was that Marta was slowly filling out, gaining weight in the right places and looking healthier than ever. She ate and showered regularly, attending to her appearance with more and more vigor. Her raven hair now shined and flowed beautifully, and she was actually parting it, allowing her face to show.
She never actually looked him in the eye, but he could sometimes catch her watching him. Their eyes would meet, briefly, and she would blush, lowering her eyes and her head, but not turning away. Joe thought it was a good sign, but held out hope that she would not be so shy some day.
That she was healthier and happier was not the problem, her way of showing it was. She surprised him one morning by dressing in a pair of shorts he had bought her for use in the exercise room. She had ignored them completely for many weeks, always wearing garments that covered her from head to toe.
When Joe had come out of the bathroom after his morning shower, she was standing by the bedroom door, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. The clothes were perfectly decent, dowdy even when you considered what most teenage girls wore these days, but it was far less than he had ever seen her wear before and he felt a stirring in his groin.
He could no more control the rush of lust he felt than he could have turned night into day or held back the tides. He blushed, his feeling of lust and guilt intermingled, leaving him breathless as he rudely stared.
Marta seemed to flush, then take a step back as though to flee. He could see her hesitate, then turn back to face him again. She was shaking like a leaf, and blushing from head to toe, but she stood her ground, waiting as she always did for him to head to the kitchen.
Joe couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew she was watching, waiting for a reaction. He held his hands in front of his groin, as casually as he could, and tried to gather his wits.
“Marta, you look lovely this morning. I am so glad to see that you are gaining back some of your muscle tone. It looks good on you!” He didn’t mention her outfit directly, not wanting to make her feel any more self-conscious and, frankly, not wanting to make her think he was staring.
The shorts became her usual outfit for around the house, and Joe was forced to make a special trip to the store to buy more. She would wear her only pair, then wash them by hand so she could wear them again the next day, and that just wouldn’t do. Joe bought her several sets, and t-shirts to go with them.
The next shock, the one that made Joe really take stock, happened a week later.
When Joe stepped out of the shower, Marta was sitting silently on the toilet, and she had obviously been watching him shower. That was bad enough, but Joe had been feeling more and more frustrated recently.
In the last couple of years of bachelorhood, Joe had masturbated infrequently, but never really considered consequences to his sex drive of having a house mate. Since Marta followed him, a constant companion throughout the day, Joe had begun ‘taking care of business‘ as part of his morning shower, when the urge hit.
This morning he had awoken with a raging hardon, and had scurried to the bathroom before Marta woke. He had been masturbating in the shower and the image in his mind as he shot his wad on the shower wall was of Marta. Yesterday, she had been helping him clean the house, and his eye had been drawn to her pert, hard little ass as she had bent over to collect the dirt and dust into a dustpan. He had averted his eyes before she caught him staring, but the scene had given him an almost instant erection that he worked to hide.
He may have gotten away with it yesterday, but there was no doubt in his mind that Marta had watched him, through the translucent shower doors, as he had stroked his cock to an orgasm.
Marta had very little concept of privacy, and still showered every day with the bathroom door open. More than once, Joe had caught himself listening to the falling water, and imagining the scene. That she had wandered into his bathroom shouldn’t have shocked him, but it still did. He had carefully closed the door, but hadn’t ever considered locking it against intrusion.
His face was hot a flushed, embarrassed to his core, he knew his embarrassment was based as much on his invisible thoughts as he had reached orgasm, as on the physical proof of his sexual excitement.
And she had watched.
Joe wrapped his towel tightly around his waist, his erection withered quickly by his shame. He knew he could not be angry at Marta, he had never told her that she could not come into his bathroom, and he had never thought twice about those few times she had sat in the bedroom and watched through the open door when he shaved, or brushed his teeth.
He also knew that this was somehow important. Marta was flushed, though he wasn’t certain if it was from the rolling cloud of steam that obscured the mirrors, embarrassment at having been caught watching, or maybe even excitement. Joe turned away towards the sink and used a hand towel to clear the mirror.
This gave him a moment to think, but it also gave him a sneaky view of Marta, and what he saw excited and shamed him all over again. Marta was not wearing a brassiere, and her pert, A-cup breasts were attractive mounds under her t-shirt ... and they were now topped by pencil-eraser sized nipples. Erect nipples.
As he brushed his teeth, he watched her reflection and watched her, watching him. He was carefully keeping his back to Marta, unwilling to show her that he was erect again, his cock throbbing against the restraining towel. He saw her the pink tip of her tongue dart out and lick her lips, and he thought he was going to cum all over his towel.
His head was swimming, awash in lust for this waif. He knew it was wrong, knew that she didn’t need some man old enough to be her father lusting after her. She needed safety, security, not a dirty old man, and his guilt warred with his desire.
He was sure it was partly his long time alone. He had never been with a woman other than Cristy, and though his fantasy life was active, his sex drive had returned with a vengeance once he had recovered from his loss. He had not been able to bring himself to date, or even get close to another woman. Though he never actually laid it out, even in his mind, he had felt it would be disloyal to the memory of his late wife.
Jackie. He needed to talk to Jackie and get a woman’s point of view on this new wrinkle. He would not address this morning with Marta until he had time to cool down, think through this rationally.
Joe had asked Marta if she would make lunch for the two of them, explaining that he had an important phone call to make and would be in his office for a while. Marta had come a long way, but she was still a naif in the kitchen. Her cooking skills were limited to cereal, toast, sandwiches and maybe a salad, but what he really needed was a little bit of privacy.
As Marta scurried off to the kitchen, Joe dialed Jackie’s work. He had kept in touch with Jackie, talking to her every couple of days and had relayed Marta’s progress as she had grown more comfortable living with him. He missed her though, and her mother, having decided that Marta deserved his attention and that it may not be a great idea to subject her to the stress of a social call with two women.
“Jackie, it’s Joe. Can you talk?” Joe kept one eye on Marta as she worked in the kitchen and tapped his toe impatiently.
“Sure Joe, my door is closed. What’s up?”
“Ok ... you laughed when I told you about Marta’s wardrobe change, and acted like you had expected it, remember? You wouldn’t say why, and I assumed it was some female thing.” Joe paused as Jackie chuckled, her tone amused at Joe’s guy point of view.
“Jackie, this is not funny. She came into the bathroom this morning when I was in the shower, and watched.”
“Joe, relax! Marta is obviously a late bloomer. Think of her as a young girl, seven or eight years old. She is curious, that’s all. She obviously didn’t have a normal childhood and is experiencing all of these new things later in her life, but it would all seem perfectly normal if she were ten years younger in fact, instead of in her mind.”
“Jackie, you don’t understand!” Joe was at a loss, unsure how to proceed. “She ... um ... she had stopped wearing a bra, and maybe underwear too.” Unbidden, the sight of her bending over the other day flashed back into his mind, and he noticed now what he had missed at the time.
No panty lines.
Joe sighed, and continued. “I ... I was masturbating in the shower, damnit!” Joe’s face was scarlet, shamed at having to admit this to anyone, especially a woman, and to Cristy’s sister!
Joe had to hold the phone away from his ear as peals of laughter rang out on the other end, shockingly loud and almost painfully embarassing.
It was a clear minute before a couple of gasps signaled the Jackie getting a hold on her mirth. “Joe, you are such a wonder. Really. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long, long time.” She paused, obviously catching her breath and, just as obviously, getting her thoughts in order.
“Listen Joe, it is obvious that she has a crush on you. Although we can’t be sure, Wallace and I are pretty sure she had almost no contact with men at all before the police found her. Now she finds herself safe, comfortable and, frankly, loved for the first time in her life. Is it any wonder that she would fall in love with the source of that comfort?”
“It isn’t right, Jackie! I am supposed to be her caretaker, not some dirty old man, lusting after a virginal child. Maybe it is time for her to find a more permanent home.” Joe hated to suggest it, but he felt like control of the situation was slipping through his fingers and he didn’t want to be the one who damaged Marta again, not when she had come so very far.
“Shut up, Joe. Just knock that shit off, right goddamn now.” Jackie sounded furious, her anger leaking through the phone in her clipped tone and the hard edge to her words. “That girl has been through hell, and has found a place where she can heal and grow. She is going through some very normal changes, and she is trying to reconcile her physical and emotional well being with her adult body’s reactions to an attractive and safe man.”
“You refuse to believe me when I tell you, but you are a great guy, Joe. You are smart, and loving, and more attractive than you know. If I had to pick someone to be the love interest of that poor girl, there is no one in the world who would fit better than you. Don’t you dare toss her aside because you are feeling guilty, or you think you are being disloyal to my sister, or just because you are a damn prude.”
Joe was shocked to his core. Jackie had always been the carefree and loving friend he needed, and he had never heard her use that tone around him in all the years he had known her. She was pissed!
She wasn’t done with him yet. “If that girl decides she wants to crawl in your bed and play ride the pony, you better put a smile on your face and say Giddiup.”
“You can’t hurt her by loving her, you can only hurt her by rejecting her. I know you, and you are falling hard for her, hating every minute of it in your martyrdom. It’s ok to love again, Joe. Cristie would never, ever want you to go through life alone and unhappy, don’t you understand that?”
Joe sat there, stunned, tears rolling down his cheeks. He was so torn between what he wanted and what he thought was right, and Jackie was hitting every button he had.
A sound at the door to his office made him look up, and there in the door, looking poised for flight and tears on her own cheeks, was Marta.
“I gotta go, Jackie, call you later”
He looked up at Marta, and held out his hand. Marta paused for a moment, then rushed to him, falling to her knees and laying her head in his lap. Her arms wrapped around his lower legs and she sobbed, her tears falling hot and wet on his thighs.
Joe sighed, and stroked her hair. “It’s ok, honey. Everything is just fine.”
Once they had both calmed down a bit, she led him by the hand into the kitchen, a bemused smile on his face at the reversal in roles. They ate a silent lunch, cleaned up the kitchen together and, for once, the silence wasn’t a barrier, it was a comfortable blanket.
The day passed quickly and night fell. When it was time for bed, Joe followed his normal routine and, after brushing his teeth and changing into his sleeping attire, climbed into bed. Marta stood silently, watching, then knelt on the floor by his pillow, waiting.
Joe stared down at the girl, not sure what to make of this change, then reached out his hand in silent appeal. Marta slid her hand into his, and climbed up on the mattress, this time on his side of thebed.
Turning her back to Joe, she curled up against him and seemed to welcome the arm he carefully draped over her, hugging his hand tightly to her warm, lean stomach. With a quiet sigh, she wiggled back towards Joe until she was comfortable, and was quickly asleep.
Joe, on the other hand, lay awake long in to the night, his mind going a mile a minute as he tried to process the changes, to be sure in his own mind that this real, and right.
From the outside, the change in their relationship might have seemed slow, glacial even. From the inside, Joe felt like his whole universe was in upheaval. Marta had followed him during his daily activity almost from the very start, but always keeping a buffer between them.
Now, she continued to follow, but if he paused for even a moment, she was right there by his side, as often as not, slipping her had into his. The most discomfiting thing was her reaction whenever he would sit somewhere. She would immediately kneel by his side, sometimes with a hand rested on his knee, sometimes her head in his lap.
He tried to discourage this, feeling it unbecoming, but nothing he did would dissuade her. She was manifestly unhappy if he refused, but quietly content to sit for hours at his feet as he worked. He would often find his traitorous hand stroking her soft hair as if it had a mind of its own.
The biggest shock, in his mind anyway, was his slow realization that he loved this slip of a girl. Not a platonic, fatherly love, but with a surety and warmth he thought he would never feel again.
A few nights later, as they cuddled up in bed, Marta still following the same, odd routine of kneeling and asking permission first, Joe unthinking, kissed her on the cheek as they were drifting off to sleep. He felt her stiffen, but somehow knew it was not fear this time. She rolled over to face him, her eyes avoiding his, and kissed him back.
He froze for a moment, then gently pulled her closer, pressing his lips softly to hers. For the first time since they had been introduced, Marta’s eyes met his directly, and in those warm brown pools he saw desire.
Marta’s lips pressed against his again, harder this time, insistent. Joe’s lips parted and the tip of his tongue darted out, sampling the soft, supple lips of the woman in his arms, his heart a jackhammer in his chest.
She responded, her tongue meeting his and he pulled her to him, molding his body to hers. His cock was a bar of molten iron, trapped between them and the feel of her erect nipples was boring holes in his chest.
When they parted, Joe took a deep breath and pulled her to him, tucking her head up under his chin and just holding her. He was shocked when he heard a soft giggle, and she squirmed closer, seemingly trying to get every inch of her body in contact with his.
Joe had heard her cry, and even heard her cry out in pain once, when she accidently stepped on a sharp stick in the yard, but he had never heard her laugh, and never, ever thought he would hear her giggle. He had an almost overwhelming urge to tickle her, just to hear that beautiful sound again.
Instead, he kissed the top of her head and inhaled her scent, content with the extraordinary feel of her body next to his.
When he awoke in the morning, he was flat on his back and she was draped over him, and arm and leg both crossing his body and her torso snugged up to his side. Her head was resting on his shoulder, her breath tickling the tiny hairs on his neck. Afraid to move and break the spell, his bladder had other plans and, with much regret, he tried to slide slowly and quietly out from under Marta.
She was having none of it. Still mostly asleep, she clung to him, making an unhappy, mewling sound.
“Baby, I have to go to the bathroom or we are going to have a big mess.” He chuckled, and pulled away. Struck by the innocence and beauty of the young lady in his bed, he paused to gaze down on her. She spent so much of her time looking down, being subservient, that he rarely got to see her face like it was now. She really was beautiful.
She had long, lush eyelashes and slightly almond shaped eyes. Well defined cheekbones and a pert little button nose over her full lips, her strong jawline gave her a determined look. While she may never be a beauty queen, her features were such a well-matched melange of soft and strong that the result was really quite striking. His eyes flitted over the rest of her, and he was again struck anew over how much she had changed these last two months.
Her body had filled out and softened all those sharp angles and protruding bones. Her breasts rode high and proud, and though a solid A-cup, they were perfect in Joe’s eyes. Her butt had been almost non-existent when she had arrived, but with exercise and good nutrition, it had firmed up, filled out and seemed to beg to be held, grasped, worshipped...
Joe hurried to the bathroom, determined to empty his bladder before his erection shut off the valve. He shouldn’t have paused, but damn if he could help admiring, and lusting, after this woman who was sharing his bed. He wanted her so bad he could taste it, but even more, he wanted it to be on her schedule. He was not going to push, or even hint at his desire. If she wanted more, she would let him know.
He had come to expect an audience in the mornings as he took his shower. Marta would come in once she heard him close the shower door, and sit quietly watching. He had been careful since the day she had caught him masturbating, and had not subjected her to a second show. but he couldn’t always control his cock. It seemed to have a mind of its own, and the thought of her sitting, watching, often made it stand proud.
Joe would just continue with his shower, spending no more time on his rampant manhood than he would when it was soft, determined to not subject her to that again.
When he finished, and stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel, he froze and looked down.
Instead of perching on the toilet as she had in the past, Marta was kneeling in front of the shower door, a towel in her hand, and waiting patiently for him to step out. As soon as both feet were on the bath mat, she leaned forward and, starting with his feet, began to dry him.
His cock, now swelling to alarming proportions, was waving gently just abover her head. If she were to sit up...
Marta worked her way up his legs, patiently drying every inch, and when she got to his erection, she paused. Tilting her head, she studied his cock, her eyes traveling from tip to root, and then over his scrotum without pause. She reached out, tentatively at first, and with just her index finger, touched it right underneath the throbbing head.
Joe almost came right then. There was an electric shock that shot through his cock, down to his balls, and straight up his spine. His knees almost buckled as the bolt of pleasure overwhelmed his senses.
Wrapping her fingers softly around his cock, she seemed to be delighted to find it hard and throbbing in her hand. She moved her hand, loosely gripped, up the shaft and let her fingers explore the head, more waves of pleasure shooting through Joe’s body.
Another first for today, Marta’s lips quirked in an almost smile, and she wrapped her hand more firmly around his shaft. Glancing up at him, as though to gauge his reaction, she began stroking it, matching what she had seen him do before, and had hoped to see him do each time she watched him in the shower.
Joe was both alarmed and excited, almost overwhelmed by the feeling of her soft hands jacking him off. He could already feel his cum boiling up, ready to spurt forth and paint the room. He could see the look of determination in Marta’s eyes, and the slight, but unmistakable grin threatening to break free, and he let himself go.
Marta, stroking softly but firmly, felt the cock in her hands swell, the heat it was giving off was almost palpable and she was obviously fascinated by the sight of his scrotum as it started to tighten as he neared orgasm. She lifted her left hand, and her fingers grazed the sensitive skin of his scrotum, sending Joe over the top, his orgasm lighting a fire along his nerves.
His entire world went white, the pleasure overwhelming his senses, and his legs buckled, pulling his cock from Marta’s grasp and sending him to his knees in front of her.
When his eyes opened again, he was mere inches from Marta’s face, and he goggled at her expresson. Her eyes were wide with wonder and fascination, and her tongue was darting out, seeking the ropes of semen that were splashed across her brown, her hair and her cheek.
He watched in wonder as she reached up with a finger and gathers some of his cum from her cheek, then sucked the finger clean. She worked her tongue around in her mouth, obviously tasting the unusual substance, deciding that it was good, and her fingers gathered more.
He looked down, past her jutting, diamond hard nipples, and was filled with another rush of lust and he watched her left hand dip into her shorts and caress her vulva.
Reaching over to the sink, he grabbed a wash cloth and captured her right hand in his own, and began tenderly washing the remaining cum from her forehead and her hair.
Marta began kissing his neck, her tongue lapping droplets of water from his skin where she hadn’t finished drying him. Her left hand, still busy beneath her shorts and her right hand roaming aimlessly across Joe’s chest and arms, touching lightly and moving on.
Joe stood, pulling her to her feet and hard against his chest, capturing her lips and tongue with his own. He devoured her, feasting on her and his hands stole down, grasping her ass, grinding her mons against his resurgent cock.
Picking her up, he carried her out of the bathroom and laid her gently on the bed, leaning over her and, his eyes locking with hers, asked silent permission to continue.
Marta smiled, a real, joyous smile that lit her face and stole his breath. She reached for him, pulling him down to her and attacked his lips, crushing them to hers.
Joe pulled back enough to grasp the bottom hem of her t-shirt, and slowly pulled it upwards, giving her another chance to object, but the heat in her eyes gave him all the permission he needed. Pulling the shirt up and off, her raven hair cascading out in a fan on his pillow, he caught his breath. Unable to prevent himself, he lowered his head and kissed each of her nipples, reveling in the firm, crinkled flesh.
He bathed each of her breasts with his tongue, stopping to nibble softly at first one, then the next. Marta’s breath hitched with each change, and a sound much like a purr vibrated in her chest.
She grasped his head, pulling him tight against her breasts, urging him on. Her hips had begun moving, and Joe could feel the dampness through her shorts as they grazed his cock, spurring him on to greater efforts.
Reluctantly pulling away from the breasts he had been fantasizing about for weeks, he began kissing his way down her body, his tongue and lips sampling every rib, every freckle. Pausing at her belly button, unable to resist darting his tongue in to tickle her, his hands continued to kneed and massage her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers.
Her every gasp drove him onward, feeding his desire, pushing him to move further. He mock growled, the rumble in his cheek providing delicate vibrations to her mons, making her hips hunch and press against him. Grabbing the waistband of her shorts in his teeth, he pulled downward, helped by her willingly raised hips and hands wanted the shorts off as badly as Joe did.
Her flat belly and that wonderful expanse of skin leading to her mons was covered with a soft, almost invisible down of hair. Her pubic hair was sparse, and softer than anything Joe could remember. As he kissed his way down, he could detect the most delectable of aromas, a heady scent that drew him in.
He paused to soak in the sight of her swollen and dripping pussy, the lips swollen with desire and the delicate tip of her clitoris peeking out from its hood, practically begging for some attention.
His tongue darted out, tasting and tempting. He kissed her lips, his tongue darting out again and again to taste her nector, flicking lightly over her clitoris and sending shivers through her spare frame.
When he ran his tongue from her the bottom of her dripping pussy to the top, flicking her clit, she let out a throaty moan, thrusting up with her hips and trying to follow his tongue and he pulled it away.
Giving in, he buried his face, kissing and nibbling, thrusting his tongue as deep in her channel as he could get it, and rubbing her clit with his nose. Marta grabbed his head, mashing his face into her pussy, and moaned, her hips moving in small circles.
Joe could feel her tensing up, her body going rigid and he inserted his finger into her hot canal, working it slowly deeper and deeper. Turning his hand so he could crook his finger, he felt for that little section of corregated skin and was rewarded with a gush of juice, bathing his chin. Marta started keening, a high-pitched, almost nasal whine and her back arched, driving her pussy into Joe’s face.
She came hard, collapsing back to the bed and grabbing his ears to peel his probing tongue and grasping lips from her pussy, her head whipping back and forth. She didn’t speak, but Joe knew she was saying “NO NONO NO NO more!”
Joe relaxed, rotating his jaw to release the tension on long unused muscles, and blew gently on her labia, causing Marta to shudder and attempt to curl herself away. He crawled up her body, planting little kisses on her hip, her ribs, her elbow and shoulder until he was positioned right next to her, nuzzling her neck.
Marta turned to him, and kissed him with everything she had, pouring out years of emotion in that slim connection. Tears streaming down her face, she held his head in her hands, and stared deep into his eyes, then gently, oh so gently, touched her lips to his forehead before burying her face in his neck and hugging him to her.
Joe wanted, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, to slide his still rock hard cock deep inside of her, but he knew without asking that it would be too much, too overwhelming. Right now, just holding Marta was enough, and it was what she needed.
The stayed in bed, cuddling and occasionally necking like a pair of teens, until hunger drove them out into the kitchen. Joe quickly dressed in his ‘work at home’ uniform of shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops, but Marta stayed just as she was and seemed to revel in the air on her bare skin.
She followed him to the kitchen, a step behind and to his right, and when Joe started to throw together a soup and sandwich lunch, she knelt by his side, resting her head against his thigh with a happy sigh.
Joe, a hopeless romantic, was uncomfortable with the outward signs of her subservience and tried to get her to stand beside him. He only desisted when her eyes filled with fear and pain, her arms wrapped around his legs with a firm determination.
Rather than face that look of fear again, Joe desisted and let her stay where she was, but he was determined to try again, as many times as it took.
He carried a tray with their lunch over to the couch, and sat down, sinking into the butter smooth leather with a sigh. Marta knelt by Joe’s feet, placing her chin on his knee while her hand toyed with the long hairs on his leg. He wasn’t comfortable, wanting her to sit with him, but rather that force her up on the furniture, he slid down to the floor, sitting next to her and balancing the tray on his lap.
He was shocked when Marta stood, taking the tray from him, and placing it on the couch. She grasped his arm, pulling upwards and patted the couch cushion, almost pleading with him to sit where he had been. When he gave in, and sat back on the couch, Marta let out a little sigh, and happily sat back down on the floor where she had been leaning against his legs.
Joe had a fair share of brain power, and knew when he was beat. He passed her a half sandwich on a napkin, and watched over her while she ate.
When lunch was finished, they sat in comfortable silence until Marta rose up and reached for his manhood through the loose leg of his shorts. Fondling it, stroking him until he was hard and ready, she fished his cock out of the shorts and she spent long minutes staring and touching, fascinated by the drop of pre-cum that would appear on the crown of his cock. She would touch it, and spread it around, marveling at the slick feel.
Her tongue reached out, licking up the next drop and, when Joe groaned in pleasure, began bathing his shaft with her tongue. Joe didn’t want to push, but he when he rubbed the head of his cock against her lips, she opened willingly and took him in her mouth.
Some experimentation, and a gasp when she scraped her teeth against his sensitive glans the first time, taught Marta what Joe needed and when she felt him begin to pulse, she kept his hard cock in her mouth, running her tongue across that most sensitive of spots under the head and gratefully accepted his cum, spurt after spurt. She swallowed and grinned around the meaty shaft, then started all over again. Joe, had to push her away, and had to explain that it was just too sensitive, like her clit had been when she had an orgasm earlier.
Marta just smiled and nodded, rested her chin on his knee and stared, as if waiting until he said it was ok again.
That night they made love. When Joe had again crawled between her legs and performed his magic, she finally connected the finger in her hot pussy with the potential for much more. As he climbed back up her body after her orgasm, she grasped his cock and tried to steer him in the right direction, rubbing the rubbery head against her clit and moaning softly.
Joe stopped her, and pulled her on top. In quiet whispers he explained that, since she was a virgin, the first time might come with some pain. He wanted her to be on top so she could control the penetration and set her own pace.
She balked, obviously not liking the idea, wanting his weight and his heat on top of her, but she followed instructions and was soon sitting across his thighs, his hard cock jutting up between her legs and rubbing at her clit. Joe’s hands caressed and kneaded her breasts, pinching and pulling on her nipples as she rubbed herself on his shaft and, when she was breathing faster, close to another orgasm, he indicated that she should rise up.
Carefully positioning his cock at the entrance to her pussy, he nodded to her, and watched as she slowly lowered herself on his erection. He only had an inch or two inside when they both felt the obstruction. Her hymen was intact, and he nodded again, telling her it was OK to take her time.
Marta was having none of that. She raised herself up, and with gritted teeth and squinted eyes, she slammed herself down again, her maidenhead splitting and his cock slamming up inside her. Marta’s eyes flew open in surprise, and a hiss of air through her teeth made Joe wince in sympathy.
She paused for a moment, adjusting to having his cock tickling her cervix, then rose up again, slower this time. When she began to lower herself on his cock again, her eyes lit and her lips opened, a surprised look that quickly became a smile.
Marta moved slowly, her breath catching in her throat and her head flung back, reveling in the new and intense sensations. Joe, on the other hand, had closed his eyes and he couldn’t believe how tight, and hot her pussy was as the head of his cock mapped out every slight variation in her canal. It was exquisite torture and he was loving every second.
Together they began to move faster, him thrusting up from underneath and her slamming herself down onto his pole, her clit rubbing against his pubes. Faster and faster they went, gasping together, their eyes closed and hands clasped, fingers intertwined.
When Joe realized that she was getting close, he disengaged one of his hands from hers, and slid it between them, using his thumb to apply pressure to her clit. He rubbed in slow circles as she rose, and faster circles and she fell, until he heard her let out a long, throaty groan and a wash of hot juice spilled out of her, cascading over his balls and setting him off. He thrust once, twice, three times then voiced his own groan as his cock erupted inside her, bathing her cervix with his cum.
Marta collapsed against Joe’s chest, panting, her eyes merely slits that she was too exhausted to close. Joe wrapped his arms around her and planted small kisses on the portion of her face he could reach, whispering how much he loved her and how lucky he was to have her in his life.
Life had taken on a whole new set of exciting circumstances after that day. At first shocked, and not a little dismayed, he came to relish those odd moments when Marta’s soft hand would reach out and caress his cock, causing it to grow and expand. It happened when he was on calls and he had the worst time keeping his voice calm an even when she would start blowing him under the desk.
Marta, having developed a taste for his cum, was perfectly happy to swallow his cock anytime and anywhere.
Marta had also developed a taste for nudity, and Joe loved to watch her around the house, her fantastic body swaying suggestively and keeping him on the edge throughout the day. He liked it so much, he eventually had to post signs at the doors saying ‘Clothes!‘ so he wouldn’t forget and give a delivery guy, or the lawn service, an eyeful.
Marta also had a disconcerting manner of tempting him, dropping to all fours, her pert ass in the air and her chin resting on her forearms. She would stay in that position, wiggling her fanny until she caught Joe’s attention, then reaching between her legs to let her fingers dally on her pink lips.
Sometimes she would simply bend over a convenient surface. The kitchen counter, the coffee table, the back of a chair. and look back at him over her shoulder, her eyes smoldering embers of passion.
Marta never spoke, not a single word in the six months since Joe had first met her, but she had no problem making desires clear. She and Joe seemed to have entire conversations where never a word was uttered, conducted solely by looks and by touch.
The one thing that never changed was that Joe led in all things, and Marta made sure he knew that his will was paramount. She was, happily, his sex slave, and lived to please him.
Joe couldn’t help but smile.