Imogen... Collins... stood, naked as usual, in front of the full-length mirror. She touched the shining steel collar – removable, now, as she was no longer an Indentured Servant, or a slave. Her hands moved to her heavy thighs and broad hips, stroking upwards, following the curve of her thick, if well-defined, waist, to cup and lift the heavy, pear-shaped breasts she’d hated so. Brown nipples, swollen from over a year of frequent stimulation, grew erect – over an inch long, and thick as her index finger. Her body, toned with work and regular exercise, would never be slim, but it was in the best condition she could get it. Finally, she looked down at her left hand, her wonder at the small diamond engagement ring and narrow wedding ring undiminished after a month. She tore her attention from them and turned to check on the cottage pie cooking in the little oven.
She heard the door and went to meet her... husband. Her husband! Her nipples, already erect, hardened and poked out like little cannons, and juices from her rapidly moistening pussy began to trickle down her leg. Steve Collins, once a Private in Lieutenant Andrew Whitten’s platoon during the War, now a senior and respected trainer in the Training Centre, took one look at his wife and stripped off the t-shirt, trainers and shorts which formed his uniform, to reveal his erection pointing skywards (despite having unloaded several lots of semen into IS trainees during his shift).
“Still?” she asked, eyes fixed on his cock.
“Still,” he agreed, “every time.”
She turned and bent over the back of a chair. Despite her lack of vertical inches, they were adept at joining that way to relieve their mutual, immediate, pressures, and he slid into her with a grunt she echoed. When his hands reached under her to squeeze her breasts and pinch her aching nipples she couldn’t suppress her groan of pleasure. Primed, she began to orgasm after only a few thrusts and her pussy – tight anyway, and trained with Kegel exercises – clamped down on him. That was too much for him to resist and he pumped another load of semen into her receptive pussy.
He didn’t withdraw immediately. Indeed, he remained hard, deep in her, and caressed her lovingly. “Do you think we’ve done it this time?”
She turned toward him and his cock slipped out of her. “I love you so much,” she whispered, then, louder, “I don’t know, Darling. I didn’t go for my last depo booster, but I don’t know how long the injections last. I think they vary a lot. I’ve been expecting a period for the last week.” She stretched up to kiss him, to which he responded. “It’s a dream for me, you know,” she went on. “I never expected ... I thought I’d die a virgin, let alone be married and hoping for children!”
“You’ll be a wonderful mother, just as you’re a fantastic lover, Sweetheart.” His hands found their way back to her breasts, moulding and caressing them.
She laughed. “I hated those tits until I met you! Even now, I can barely understand how you like them so much.”
He shrugged. “They’re a part of you, and I love you. Can I smell supper?”
“Of course! We’ve time for a shower, though, first.”
After their supper, Steve sat on the sofa and pulled Imogen into his lap. She snuggled there as his right hand played with her tit. “Um ... Sweetie...” he hesitated, worried about what he was going to ask.
He was going to tell her to call him Steve, but looking into her eyes, which were sparkling with mischief, refrained. “Imogen, you know Heidi ... um ... IS29/18...”
“Of course! I’m in and out of the Training Centre nearly as much as you. She’s beautiful.”
“Not more beautiful than you, Darling. Well ... it seems her husband ... ex-husband ... is showing no interest in claiming her. Of course, there’s a small matter of a five-figure bill for her stay, which he’s not willing to pay in full. I think the Committee will get some money out of him, but, well, she’s got nowhere to go except Madame Anastasiya’s. There’s a place for her there, but...”
“A free-born woman working as a prostitute,” Imogen finished. “Has she nowhere else to go?”
“Her family all died in the attack on Berlin. If she hadn’t been touring with her husband at the time...”
“Oh, poor woman...” Imogen’s voice trailed off and for several seconds they were silent. She sat, head down, in his lap. “What about her husband ... ex-husband, that is?” she finished.
“He’s already dragging some other woman – a slave, at that – around with him, and has been dragging his feet about Heidi. Of course, he’s got no legal responsibility under the old contract. If we’d admitted her a couple of weeks later, he’d have been responsible for her keep.”
They were silent again and Imogen did her best to become one with her husband, who slowly became aware she was shaking.
“Darling? What’s wrong?”
“I should ... I’ve been so lucky, and...” she slipped off his lap and knelt, head down in front of him. “Master, we should invite her to live with us.”
He reached forward and gently lifted her face to look at him. Tears streaked her cheeks, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “Darling, you are not responsible for...”
Her expression hardened, and she responded, “Yes, I am. But I am scared – she’s so beautiful.”
“Wife!” His voice, sharp with command, shocked her. “Imogen, my love...” he went on, gently as her eyes met his, “I do not wish to replace you. You are ... like a missing piece of me, and if I lost you, well, I don’t like to think of it. If you’re worried, I won’t suggest it.”
“No, Master. Others – Ksenia Sutherland, Dorothy Whitten – have shared their husbands. Can I do less?”
“We’ve only been married a month, Dear...”
“But we’ve been together over a year, now. I trust you, Master.”
“Then, tomorrow, before you go to work in the laundry – it is the laundry tomorrow?” Imogen nodded, “Then come to the Centre and talk to Heidi. You invite her, if you agree. Then talk to the Major.” Another pause, “No collar, Imogen, and a dress. You are a free woman, a married woman, interviewing a possible servant.”
Imogen stared at him, wide-eyed. He stood and held out his hand to her. “Come on; it’s a bit early, but I want to make love to my wife and get some sleep.” She took his hand and followed him into the bedroom.
She stood at the entrance to the Training area, and pressed the button for admittance. Her hand strayed to her naked neck, feeling the unfamiliar absence of her collar. A mostly yellow, fitted dress flattered her figure. As one of the trainers came to open the doors, she straightened up to her full five foot and pulled her shoulders back.
Through the heavy glass she saw Trainer Jane Edwards, who opened the door for her and smiled. “Good morning, Imogen! Major Prestwick asked if you’d see him first, if that’s okay?”
“I suppose so,” she responded nervously, wondering what that was about. Was he going to pressure her to take the woman?
He stood as she entered the office. “Good morning, Missus Collins. Thank you for coming to see me. Before you see Eighteen, there are some things I wanted to say, and to ask you. This is nothing to do with Eighteen, by the way.”
“Our Head Cook is leaving. Her assistant will take over in charge, but we have a vacancy for her assistant. We don’t want to bring in someone from outside if we can avoid it, and there’s a general agreement that you are more than competent for the job. You can have a day or so to think it over, if you like. So the question is, would you like the job? Take your time and talk to Steve about it. The other thing is, we have a larger apartment intended for a married couple. I’m sorry I haven’t done anything about it before, but this afternoon Steve will take you to have a look at it. I’m afraid it’s likely to be in need of thorough cleaning, but you’re entitled to the extra space. Lastly ... It was I who asked Steve to consider taking in Eighteen, and he was reluctant because he was worried about you. There is absolutely no pressure on you to take her. It is entirely your decision, and whichever way you decide will not affect the offer of a job, or the change of accommodation. The latter will, of course, make accommodating her easier, but that’s not why we’re doing it; it’s your entitlement to have it.”
“Sir ... I’m ... overwhelmed. I think ... I’d like the job, but of course I’ll talk to Steve.”
“Good. Go and visit Eighteen ... Heidi, that is. Her Indenture is complete. I must remember to give her her proper identity!”
Imogen smiled tentatively – he responded warmly – then stood, left the office, and crossed the training arena to Heidi’s cell. Heidi, riding the Sybian outside her cell, saw her coming and switched it off before dismounting, then waved her visitor into the cell, and to the one chair. When Imogen had seated herself, Heidi knelt before her with her eyes down. Imogen could not help an envious examination of the woman in front of her.
Heidi Bruch might, in another age, have been a glamour model. A little over average height at five foot seven, a fine sheen of sweat accentuated a perfect figure. Her hair, a rich, dark, brown was short but glossy with health. Her face lacked just enough symmetry to make her human, and every proportion was perfectly balanced.
.... There is more of this story ...