Matthew Reid – The Wizard.
Ryan “Craps” MacDonald – Matthew’s oldest friend.
Joseph Dyne – Matthew’s best friend.
Janine Porre – Matthew’s first love
Phoebe Waterson – An inherited sex slave.
Gwendolyn Ashcroft – A waitress sex slave Matthew took from work.
Tiffany Luck – A teenaged sex slave taken from Ottawa.
Raena Flores – A teenaged sex slave taken from Ottawa.
Meghan Reid – Matthew’s little sister.
Misty Reid – Matthew’s baby sister.
Ryan MacDonald – Saturday, July 11th, 2015
Phoebe was hellfire. I had tried to be a gentleman. I had tried to take her to dinner. To take her dancing. To take her anywhere. She just wanted to fuck. I made my peace with that.
The little slut was tight. About 5’6’’ and maybe a hundred twenty pounds. She had cold blue eyes and dark red hair. She dressed well, smelled amazing and fucking nothing was off the table. Except maybe dirty talk.
We fucked. I wrecked my bed and misused the couch I shared with Matthew and Joseph. The bitch even cleaned up afterwards.
Normally she was fair, maybe a little red if she was sweating, quite purple if I was feeling nasty. The skin of her ass wore my handprints eagerly.
“Thank you,” A breathless whisper. It was all she ever said once I got her clothes off. Her chin and tits a mess with the rivers of drool I had fucked out of her throat. Her eyes stained and bloodshot, her whole body shaking. I dug my fingers deep into her flooded cunt. Her musk invaded my room. That little thank you bubbled out of her while I proceeded to kill my wrist.
I think there’s something wrong with me. I loved fucking this cunt. She kept coming back. Joe kept abandoning our apartment. Where the fuck had Matthew got off to? His baby sister crashed in his room every other night. Try as I might I couldn’t advertise just how good I fucked sluts with Phoebe. I wanted to see Misty in the morning and make her uncomfortable. I wanted Phoebe to get louder.
It took weeks. I tried her ass. I ravaged her in the hallway. I banged her upside down. I choked her blue. I barely got more than a half panicked pant.
“How the fuck was that?” I asked and she just murmured “Thank you.”
This afternoon was the afternoon. I’d discover just where she was hiding her lungs. I half suspected she didn’t have any. She wasn’t flat chested, her perfect, natural double d’s had simply sunk into her empty rib cage and only her perky nipples reached past her chest.
“Who the fuck shit in your Corn Flakes?” Misty had asked before she had went out last night. I should probably swing by after I settled Phoebe. But I had to know.
The bitch came in with my laundry. She was dressed simple but super hot, blue jeans that could have been painted on. Too much clothes for me, even if the July weather was dank, unseasonably cool.
“Hi, Ryan,” She said and carried the basket into my room. Thanks to Phoebe, I finally owned folded shirts.
“Come out here,” I stood up off the couch. Our little living room had a tiny balcony, hardly big enough for two of those folding chairs Wrestler’s weaponized. I stepped out. I was just in a pair of striped boxer shorts and an untied robe. The wind rolled in off the harbor. It was good for me. Phoebe quietly came out beside me.
“Take your clothes off,” This I loved. Phoebe instantly tore off her tank top. Her jeans were a struggle. I waited. The girl only seemed to wear panties when her period hit. Her bare cunt was out and she stepped back into her sandals. I get it. The concrete wasn’t soft.
“If you want me to suck your cock out here, can I get a cushion from the couch to kneel on?” She asked. Her hair picked up in the wind and whipped about.
“No, just grab the railing,” She did, with both hands as I dragged my cock out of my boxers. She was wet. I slipped in like it was nothing. She grew tighter as I seated myself. She always accommodated. I thanked whatever daddy issues, abusive boyfriends, low self-esteem mind virus that had made her this way.
“The last girl, Lara, hates heights,” I told Phoebe as I took a solid grip of her hips, “She’d hardly come up to the apartment let alone out on the balcony.”
“Thank you,” Phoebe shuddered. For no sensible reason, I grew pissed. I looked across at the second tower. No one was out today. It was early, the few barbecuers would hold off till later in the afternoon. My outrage was my momentum, “Thank you.”
“Goddammit slut!” I heaved. I reached and took a fistful of red. She arched out as I pulled. Another thank you. I growled. A snapping bark echoed me.
“Oh!” This noise that came out of her throat sounded like it had collided with a kink in her larynx. I missed a beat. She twisted and turned. She could raise her voice. She could squeal. I wanted a “Fuck me, daddy!” Or something similarly pathological. What I got was a “Hi puppy!”
We were barked back at. Our neighbour’s massive Newfoundland sat staring at us. He barked again.
“Really?” I moaned, lost momentum pulled me back from the edge. That frustration I had been driven by was saddled with incredulity. I folded over her back, hurrying and not quite confident, I was getting anywhere. Another bark.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Athena!” I actually felt better as our cute neighbor stepped out onto her balcony. She was a cute brown girl of some origin. She had frizzy black hair weighed down with all of itself and a panicked reddening face framed in her square cut bangs. She gave me the finger when I smiled with eye contact.
“Your dog’s adorable, her name’s Athena?” Phoebe asked with a smile and no inclination to stop. Our neighbor stormed back into her living room. Her dog followed her, “I use to have, Deacon, he was a chocolate lab.”
“I don’t care, Phoebe,”
“Right,” She gripped the railing. I was probably giving only 40% of what was happening between us. I ramped it up.
“--Casa de Reid!” I was on a knife’s edge as our door was flung open and the prodigal son returned. Not much I could do then.
“Thank you,” I whispered to Phoebe.
Phoebe Waterson – Saturday, July 11th, 2015
“Wizard!” I bounded into the living room, pushing aside Ryan. I needed a real fuck. I needed a hug. Ryan wheezed on the balcony. There was Kleenex by the Xbox controllers. I needed to wipe up the cum. Ryan was a producer.
“This place is a shithole,” Announced a new girl. She was coming around the corner from the kitchenette. She was pretty. A little girl with a golden tan and fair blonde hair. Matthew really liked blondes. He didn’t hate ginger girls though. She saw me, “Tits!”
“What?” Matthew was a pace behind, “Phoebe?”
“Hey buddy, you’re back?” Ryan slapped my ass, needlessly scattering this mess from pussy to the coffee table.
“Who are these people?” Another girl, smaller, somehow, than the blonde flanked Matthew’s other side. He had the waitress behind him. Gwendolyn was terrified. I wondered where Sara had been hemorrhaged. Hell, she wouldn’t be missed.
“I think I get to ask that question,” Ryan declared, “Seeing as I live here and you don’t.”
“You’re fucking Craps?” Matthew asked me. He looked confused.
“We were supposed to take care of the apartment,” I declared.
“You’ve got like 4 girls, man,” Ryan’s arm wrapped my shoulder, “I can have one.”
“Dude, who are these girls?” Craps pointed out.
“Phoebe put your clothes on,” Matthew grabbed his hair, “Everyone else come sit down.”
The teens shot to the couch filling up on the left hand side. I picked my tank top off the armrest. They were fascinated by me.
“When did--” Matthew tried to ask something of Ryan and me but Ryan overshouted him.
“Janine!” He stepped right up in Matthew’s face, “What the fuck is she doing here?”
“We’ve decided to get back together.” This fourth girl, woman. She was older than me, maybe Carmen’s age, maybe older. She was attractive, if a little tired looking. She took Matthew’s hand and looked Ryan dead in the face.
“Craps, please. You don’t know what Matthew can do,” Janine shook her head and looked to Matthew, “Is Phoebe one of your girls?”
“One of yours!” Ryan turned on me as I stepped into my jeans. I had to let go and skip out of them as he dragged me up. I was forced to look into Ryan’s dark green eyes. He looked like the Wizard, if you took away chubbiness and added to the height, “What are we?”
“People?” I answered the confusing question.
“Fuck!” Craps spat.
“Dude calm down,” Matthew waved his hand, “Let Phoebe get dressed. There’s something I should’ve told you about.”
“Matthew?” Gwendolyn had taken the seat next to the blonde teenager.
“It’s OK,” He shook his head, “I didn’t want to do this twice. I wish Joseph was here.”
That’s when the front door opened again.
Joseph Dyne – Saturday, July 11th, 2015
“She’s doing OK,” I reassured Meghan for the eleventh time, “She’s missing Matthew.”
“We all are,” she harrumphed, “You still haven’t heard anything.”
“Nada,” I shook my head and swiped my way into the tower, “Though, I think this week without him makes the idea of no roommates look nicer and nicer.”
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