Chapter 6

Scott Quittman awoke in a location that he didn’t recognize. Where the hell was he? How long had he been out? What the hell was going on, anyway? Scott tried to sit up and check the clock or something. He also had a full bladder, which he had to relieve soon. Scott chafed as he discovered his restraints. He was strapped to some kind of bed somehow. He began screaming in panic and desperation. His glasses were gone, too, making his vision rather blurry as well.

“Ah, you’re awake now. Good! You need to piss? Good. Allow me!” a distinctly female voice spoke to Scott.

Still somewhat blind, Scott felt a mouth engulfing his cock, even as soft, ladylike hands caressed his genitals. He panicked even more, unable to stop himself from pissing down the mystery woman’s gullet. She drank every drop of his piss, much to his pure, unmitigated shock. Why would anyone drink his piss? What could motivate this stranger?

Scott struggled against his bonds once again, even as the stranger mounted his cock and began bouncing up and down on it with her tight, slick pussy. It felt incredible, that warm, juicy twat, surrounding his prick with its smooth, slippery walls. It was a very comforting, delightful experience that, for a moment, overcame his panic and his humiliation at being held against his will. The more she bucked her hips, the more she drove him wild with her enthusiastic movements.

Scott could smell and feel the stranger’s arousal, naturally, which only added to his own excitement in spite of his anxiety and fear. When she tightened up on him, he couldn’t hold out much longer, of course. As the unknown woman screamed and creamed herself, Scott lost all self-control and spilled his seed. He couldn’t believe what he did, either, realizing in his post-nut clarity what he just did. What if he impregnated this woman, and if so, was this her plan? What would this mean for everyone?

Scott sighed as he waited for the woman’s reaction to their coupling. She quickly rushed out of the room and he heard water running in a faucet. Having no choice but to wait, he listened as his captor brushed her teeth and gargled mouthwash to erase all traces of his piss. That was a relief to know, especially in case she kissed him on the lips. He didn’t want to smell or taste piss, his or anyone else’s.

Sure enough, she put his glasses back on his face, and then planted kisses on his mouth. He looked up and saw the face of a young woman with short, blonde curls and a somewhat pinkish complexion. Her eyes were wide open and full of sincerity as well as desire. What was her intent?

“Oh, hello. My name is Brynn. I ... I worked at the hospital where you were admitted. I took you out and I’ll need you to sign these discharge papers that I’ve backdated, in order to keep it legal. I also used to date your brother-in-law, Ben Henrickson. I saw that bitch, Rhonda, trying to get her hands on you. I couldn’t let that happen. She would be nothing but trouble for you,” the young lady informed Scott.

“So ... why aren’t you making moves on Ben, then? He’s a free agent now. Why me?” Scott now asked Brynn.

Brynn blushed and told him, “Ben and I are through. I know that. He knows that. It wouldn’t work for one simple reason. Despite caving to the pressures of his family and dropping polygamy to marry Heather, I believe that Ben is a polygamist at heart. Deep down. His mother was pretty desperate to avoid it, probably because she feared for his soul. On some level, she must guess what I finally understood. Ben is ... just cut out for polygamy. It’s his destiny, just like his father.”

“And that’s a dealbreaker for you, but drinking my piss ain’t?” Scott coughed as he probed a bit.

Brynn blushed again, but shrugged as well, “I wanted to try it at least once. It’s not too bad, but I wouldn’t rush out to do it again. As for sharing, well, I’m sort of open to ... something, but not another wife. I’d want to be the main squeeze, the primary partner. What I mean is ... casual fun is one thing, but I’m not gonna share my kitchen, my house. That kind of thing. I can’t promise what for sure I’d accept, but probably something like swinging or swapping, but not plural marriage. Certainly the religious type with a patriarchal Prophet and patriarchal hubby. You feel me? I’m a kinky bitch ... but I’m not gonna do that.”

“So, a bit like Meatloaf,” Scott teased her.

“Like Meatloaf? I don’t follow you,” Brynn frowned.

“You’ll do anything for love, but you won’t do that,” Scott joked, “will you at least untie me, anyway?”