Chapter 17: Marcy

Monday, November 20, 2023

Rain slashed the windows of Diane and Phoebe’s house as Robin and I fucked loudly in the bedroom. Two days ago, my mothers had left for a short trip to Vegas. Since then, Robin and I made it our mission to have sex in every single enclosed space in the house: every bathroom, every shower, every closet, every room—even the garage and attic. We only had three days to cover the entire house. Thanks to Robin’s sheer horniness and my ability to recharge my dick every time I changed from my little prince to my little princess and back, our goal was achievable.

We rotated which of her holes I used. Robin wanted every bathroom to be anal. Every bedroom or space with a soft surface had to be a pussy fuck. And every small space had to be oral. By my last count, starting late Friday morning, I had cum twelve times, and the only three rooms left were my moms’ bedroom, bathroom, and closet. And so on that soggy Monday morning, we went into my mothers’ room to fuck on their bed, in their bathroom, and their closet before they came home later in the day.

Robin, always wanting to look her best, had already showered, applied makeup, and wore a black teddy with matching panties and her pink collar. She had not removed the collar once since I came home from Jade’s apartment. That had been over two weeks ago. She hadn’t been my girlfriend for even a second. She’d been my pet. My horny, slutty, brainless pet who only referred to me as “Madam” and herself as “Kitty” or “Madam’s pet.” Nothing I could do or say would make her stop. Robin wouldn’t even answer me unless I called her “Kitty” or “Pet.”

I had no doubt this was one of the reasons why Diane and Phoebe had left on a short-notice vacation. They couldn’t stand Robin’s Pet persona. What they didn’t understand was that it was my fault. When Jade sent Robin photos of her cock deep in my ass, Robin had been deeply hurt. Then I’d come home reeking of Jade’s cum and sweat, making the reality of my betrayal unignorable.

Why did Jade have Robin’s number on her phone? Why had she done that to me? And most mind-boggling of all, why had I lost total control over my body while Jade fucked me?

I’d sworn to Robin after the incident that I would never have sex with or even see Jade again. And then I’d gone to Sir’s BDSM dungeon, and who was there, ready and waiting to be fucked while gagged and blindfolded? Jade. I knew it was Jade the second I saw her. I knew her mouth and pussy like I knew my face. Unable to back out, I broke my promise to Robin and fucked Jade again.

My instincts told me to hide the truth from Robin, but I refused to do that anymore. Instead, I told her everything. Robin listened to me calmly, practically emotionlessly.

When I finished, she said slowly and steadily, “Madam can fuck whomever she wishes. Kitty does not have a say in the matter.”

So many things didn’t make sense. And now I didn’t know who to talk to because I sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere near Jade.

In the meantime, I had a pet to please. Robin was beneath me on my mothers’ bed, legs spread lewdly wide. Jade and I had never even considered having sex in my parents’ room. Robin was the first person I’d ever fucked here. And now that I was trying it, there was a definite kinkiness factor getting me hot and bothered. Robin and I would change the sheets for them before they got home, but that wasn’t on my mind. I was nine inches hard and giving it to Robin like she’d stolen my truck.

About two weeks ago, purely by accident, Robin and I discovered that I could now change the size of my cock from less than an inch in length to about two feet. With that knowledge, Robin and I had experimented to find the perfect size for her, and she’d settled on exactly nine inches of pure, solid little prince. Now I kept it that size all the time unless we were in the mood to get a little crazy with a larger size, like for a blowjob or kinky play.

Robin whined like a porn star beneath me, her hands firmly on my ass as I took her hard. My lips were clamped to her nipple, sucking hard and biting her nub while driving my hips furiously between her legs, the smacking sound of my balls hitting her taint with every thrust.

Robin’s whimpers increased in volume and intensity as I brought her closer to orgasm.

“Yes, Madam! Yes, Madam! Yes, Madam!”

I wanted her to say Marcy, not Madam, but that wasn’t a battle I was willing to fight right now, so I focused on her pleasure. I would make my slutty pet mewl and whimper with delight instead. Just before she came, I pulled out of her, slid back on the bed, and flipped her around, sliding my cock—wet with her lubrication—into her open mouth, denying her the orgasm she badly needed.

“No touching yourself,” I ordered as her hand crept toward her clit. If she wanted to be treated like a slutty pet, I would oblige her.

I fucked her mouth until she cleaned every drop of her juice off me, then I spun her back around and penetrated her tunnel in one thrust. Her pussy soaked my cock, but I continued to pound into her, again pushing her literally and figuratively toward her climax. And again, I stopped just before she came. She groaned loudly when I flipped her around and put my cock in her mouth again, forcing her to clean me. I did this to Robin four times. And on the fourth time, she screamed wordlessly in frustration.

I just laughed and silenced her screams with my phallus. Robin’s talented mouth, combined with our prolonged fucking session, had me on the brink of blowing my load into her throat. Instead, I pulled out, flipped her over, and fucked my slutty pet doggy style—her favorite position. As I plowed her pink puffy pussy, I slapped her ass.

Robin literally came on the first spank, screaming one obscenity after the other. So I did it again.

“You like that, slut?”

“Yes!” she wailed through her orgasm. “Slutty Kitty likes it, Madam!”

“Who’s a filthy fucking whore?”

“Kitty!” she cried as I spanked her a fourth time. “Kitty is a whore!”

I lost it. I pulled my cock from her cunt and stroked its slick length, and after three full strokes, my balls emptied themselves all over Robin’s back until she had seven long white stripes from shoulder to ass cheek. Robin collapsed on the bed facedown, and I joined her face up. My cock deflated until it collapsed wetly against my thigh.

“Closet next?” I asked, snickering into my hand.

Robin sighed in a satisfied way. “Kitty needs a minute.”

I got up and went into my mothers’ closet. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been inside, probably years. Growing up, it had been a rare occasion my mothers had even allowed me inside their bedroom.

Oddly enough, their closet was one of the smallest in the house, much smaller than the full-size walk-in closet I had in my upstairs apartment. Theirs could barely be called a walk-in. But my mothers had never complained about it. They had their clothes on either side and a custom shoe organizer built into the back wall. Funnily, we’d moved into the house when I was seven, and I remembered their bedroom and closet being much bigger back then. I found it strange how large things seem to children and how they shrink in perception as we grow.

Getting a blowjob inside the closet was doable, but it would not be very comfortable unless I moved the clothes out of the way onto the bed and put them back later. Determined to do just that, I grabbed an armful of clothes on the right side of the shoe organizer, carried it out of the closet, and dumped it on the bed. When I returned, I saw a strange sight: a pair of metal handcuffs hanging on a hook in the corner. The handcuffs had been hidden by the clothes.

“Diane and Phoebe do have a bit of a kinky side,” I mused as I pulled on the handcuffs to show Robin.

Instead of slipping off the hook, the handcuffs and the hook dropped down like a lever. Then, the custom shoe organizer split in two and popped open like a double door.

“What the hell?” I said aloud.

Alarmed by the sudden sound, Robin turned toward me, saw what I had seen, and echoed me. “What the hell?”

Behind my mothers’ shoe organizer was a secret room. I pulled open the door and stepped into what could only be described as a miniature sex dungeon complete with an X-frame, a suspended sex swing, a twin-size bed designed for restraining its occupant, an astounding collection of toys and bondage devices pristinely organized along one wall, and...

My jaw dropped. “No fucking way.”

The wall opposite my parents’ sex toy display was filled with Polaroid photos of women engaged in sexual acts with other women, all of them involving at least one woman tied, blindfolded, gagged, bound, or in some other way involved in BDSM activities. Most of the women were attractive and young. Some were Black, Asian, Hispanic, and White. But all of the photos had one common element: Phoebe.

In all of them, Phoebe was the one tied up, gagged, or somehow on display to other women. My stomach gave a weird lurch seeing her so lewdly captured on film. I quickly discovered that my mother, Diane, was in none of the photos. Yet some photos had clearly been taken in this secret room. Vague memories of my mothers hosting night parties with friends after I went to bed flashed through my mind.

Then it hit me. Diane had taken all of these pictures. My mothers were swingers. Lesbian swingers. Lesbian swingers who traveled the world. And all of their little vacations had involved sex with other women who liked to dominate Phoebe as Diane watched, participated, and, apparently, filmed.

“Your moms are kinky,” Robin said, gazing in awe of the room. It was the first time in several days she’d used any derivate of the word you instead of Madam. The moment she realized this, she looked bashful and bowed to me. “Forgiveness, Madam. Slutty Kitty was rude.”

I ignored her, still staring at the Polaroids displayed on the wall in a straight line, suspended on ribbons. There must have been hundreds of them lined in row after row, stretching across the wall. Phoebe blindfolded with a woman sitting on her face. Phoebe eating ass. Phoebe getting fucked by two strap-ons while gagged. Phoebe on the X-frame with nipple clamps. Phoebe being serviced by two women while tied up and suspended.

I knew my moms enjoyed sex. They had been very open about the topic. But nothing like this had ever been discussed. I had no idea. No clue at all. Judging by Phoebe’s hairstyle in the upper leftmost photos and comparing it to some of the lower rightmost photos, this tradition had begun shortly after their marriage and continued through the earlier half of this year. Were their vacations planned around sex tourism and a swinging lifestyle? Were they doing this right now in Vegas?

Robin and I explored the dungeon for another twenty minutes before closing everything back up the way we’d found it. Then we finished our christening of the remaining rooms. I fucked Robin’s slutty mouth in the “closet” and then took her ass in my mothers’ bathroom. We had to hurry to wash and dry their sheets and replace them just before their car returned from the airport.

We welcomed them home with dinner waiting. As my moms talked about their trip, no mention was made of any sexual rendezvous or erotic adventures. Still, I couldn’t help noticing that a Polaroid camera emerged from Diane’s carry-on bag as they unpacked.

Robin and I ate with them, letting my parents lead the conversation. As they talked about the things they had done in Vegas, I couldn’t shake this mental image of them in their hotel room hosting a giant BDSM party or spending their nights at some sex club snapping Polaroids of Phoebe. The mental pictures stayed with me all through the evening.

After they went to bed, Robin and I went upstairs to hang out until bedtime. I played video games while Robin read an investment book.

The next morning, I went for a long run before my mother’s final infusion appointment. The entire way there, I looked at her, wondering if I’d made the right decision with Malathazar. He had offered my mom a lifeline—a long and happy life. I could have taken it at the cost of my soul, but instead, I’d turned it down. On many levels, it felt like the right choice, but sometimes, when I looked at my mother, I couldn’t help but wonder. Was it so terrible to sacrifice myself for my mothers’ happiness? Wasn’t that what love meant?

When we got home, Robin was sitting outside the house, holding herself and crying. Diane and I stopped on the driveway to console her.

“What’s the matter?” my mom asked.

Robin shook her head, giving me a meaningful gaze. “Nothing. Kitty is just emotional.”

“Was it Phoebe?” Diane pressed. “Did she snap at you again?”

Robin’s face told us everything. My mom made a tsk sound and marched past Robin into the house. I stayed outside and sat next to Robin on the front stoop.

“What happened?”

“Just the usual,” Robin mumbled. “She told Kitty to take off the collar. Said it was embarrassing. Said Madam is too good for her pet. That we don’t understand what a true relationship is all about. She was so angry. So full of poison.”

I put my arm around Robin, and she leaned into me. “Do you—”

“Pet,” Robin said softly.

“Robin...”

“Pet.” Her voice grew sterner, and she pulled away from my arm. “Kitty!”

“Why?” I said. “Why do I have to call you that?”

“Kitty does not want to forget her place,” Robin answered. “This pet is here for Madam’s pleasure. Not for her own.”

I pulled my arm from Robin and went back into the house. Robin did not follow. Phoebe was in the kitchen cleaning.

“Don’t talk to Robin,” I said.

Phoebe turned to me with a surprised look. “What?”

“Don’t talk to Robin. I don’t care if you don’t like her or disagree with what we do ... as hypocritical as that would be of you. Ignore it. Look away. Hold your tongue. But stop treating her like shit. That is an order.”

The look of shock slowly melted off my mother’s face. Then she nodded. No more words were needed.

Robin and I spent the rest of the week in our Denver apartment preparing for our Red Velvet performances. Our flight departed Denver International on Thursday afternoon. We’d sleep in a hotel Thursday night in Miami and board the party yacht Friday morning. Before driving to Denver, I made sure Phoebe had everything under control taking care of Diane for the next several days. Then I hugged my mothers goodbye and left with Robin, who still wore her Slutty Kitty collar.

As we arrived at our departure gate, two familiar faces caught my eye: Gina and Kitt. Next to Kitt were two other women. I didn’t recognize one of them, a pretty Asian girl with more curves than belonged on her thin frame. I did recognize the other from her appearance at a Black Velvet event months ago. Delilah. She had tried to talk me into doing a porn scene or two with her and ended up coming home with me for a fantastic round of sex.

What in the hell was Gina doing with Kitt?

It was Kitt out of the little group who saw me first. Gina blanched when our eyes met. Kitt took her hand, spoke into her ear, and stood. I stopped walking and waited for him to come to me. He wore an easy smile. In general, he was much more relaxed and confident than he had ever been when he dated my ex-girlfriend.

“Hey, Marcy,” he said when he was just a few feet away. “I can’t imagine this is a coincidence. Are you two going to Red Velvet?”

I nodded once. “You, too?”

Kitt’s smile answered my question. “Too much money to pass up. We’re saving up for some big plans, and this is going to help us get there.”

My eyebrow went up sky-high. “Super Schlong plans?”

“Things are really moving along with it. You should consider joining us. You’d be an amazing—”

“Are you going to let me fuck you in the ass?” I asked flatly.

“Uh ... you’re still adamant about that?”

“No offense, Kitt, but I’m not interested in doing porn.”

Kitt put up his hands. “No problem. I won’t bug you about it again.”

“How is Gina?” I asked.

“Great!” Kitt said. “Like really great. She’s taking some online classes. Doing some work for Super Schlong. Helping us develop our plan. It’s been fun having her around.”

About ten emotions flooded my body at once: jealousy, joy, rage, shame, sorrow, regret, hope, lust, pity, and disgust. The strongest of them were the first three. Gina had a home. She was doing well. She had moved on. She had found happiness in the arms of Kitt Walker. She was his now—his pet, his possession. My intestines tightened and coiled up inside me, leaving me with a slightly nauseous sensation.

“She ... lives with you?” I finally asked.

Kitt scratched the back of his head and then finally said, “Yeah. She’s been with me for a little while. Well ... me and London. We live together. Gina’s cool. But you probably already know that. She’s coming along to help us raise money for the Super Schlong thing.”