Chapter 20

Lindsay Anastacio drifted out of a twenty-minute nap somewhere along Utah State Route 142 on the way home to Salt Lake City. The nineteen-year-old struggled to open her eyes and subsequently nestled deeper against the masculine arm she had been holding on to while dozing. “Hmm, where are we?” She scrunched her face, yawned, and blindly kissed the silhouette of a naked woman shackled in chains tattooed upon that bicep.

“About to enter Falls Church and merge onto Interstate 15. Still have an hour to go, so sit back and relax.” At the helm of his 2019 Lamborghini Huracán EVO Spyder convertible and concentrating on the road in front of him, Sammy still took time to lean over and plant a quick-hitting kiss on Lindsay’s cheek. He trailed a soothing fingertip across the sweep of her neck and gave it a tickle. “Did you have a good snooze, babygirl?”

“Yes, I did.” Sammy had varying, complex layers to his personality, but when he was soft-spoken and considerate, it never failed to warm Lindsay to her bones. At times, he’s like a big, cuddly grandpa, and I want to sit in his lap and snuggle and love on him forever! “Oh, I’m so tired. These two days were so much fun and I thank you for it, but it’s been a crazy last week or so. Everything, I think, has caught up to me.” A tendon in her throat twitched. “And it’s about to get crazier come tomorrow morning.”

At Sammy’s urging, Lindsay toured the campuses of Westminster College and The University of Utah this past Thursday. He had been stressing how a proper education would benefit her later in life since they became an item almost a year ago.

He wanted her to find a school where she felt comfortable and begin taking classes there in the fall. Therefore, Lindsay was looking at institutes in the greater Salt Lake area and had an eye on majoring in Sociology. Granted, her grades weren’t the best in while growing up, but Sammy would see to it that she applied herself from this point forward and, in short order, emerge as a top-notch student. He expects a perfect GPA and says I’ll get caned for anything less.

“I’m not a spring chicken anymore,” the fifty-nine-year-old often reminded her. “I won’t be around to provide for you forever.”

Down the road, Lindsay envisioned herself as either a counselor, sales representative, or financial manager. Sociology was a solid foundation for all three. Maybe someday I’ll become one of the head honchos at Gradiph Pharmaceuticals just like Daddy!

The duo was returning from a two-day hiking trip at Mount Naomi, the highest peak in the Bear River Mountains of northern Utah and southern Idaho. This morning, Lindsay and Sammy took High Creek Ridge Trail to High Creek Lake, a strenuous, exhausting six-hour hike that tested Sammy’s endurance. Famous for its melting glaciers, carved valleys, alpine meadows, and spectacular lakes, Mount Naomi was a postcard of life: wild horses, wolves, bears, mountain lions, moose, and elk, among many other creatures, patrolled the countryside.

Located northwest of Logan, Utah in Wasatch-Cache National Forest, Mount Naomi ascended to 9,983 feet, and was yet another outdoor adventure Lindsay checked off her to-do list.

“Don’t think I’ve ever told you this before, but I went to secondary school right here in Falls Church.” Sammy cocked his head and grinned. “This is where I grew up.”

Lindsay gazed his way with a sudden focus and waited for the story to continue.

“Graduated from Bear River Valley High in 1977. Our football team lost the state semi-finals when I was a junior in fourteen inches of snow. That was crazy. Never forget that night. I was the quarterback. One of my teammates went on to the NFL and had a long and successful career. He was an outstanding guy. Should be in the Hall of Fame, too, if you ask me.” Sammy’s left hand tightened its grip on the steering wheel. “Wow, secondary school. Those were the days.” His lips tremored. “Where did all those years go?”

Lindsay poked his ribs and made him squirm. “I bet you had all the girls beating down your door as the star quarterback. I could so see you as a jock.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped both arms around them, and offered a slow smile that continued building. “You had your pick of any girl in the school, didn’t you?”

Sammy rolled a shoulder. “I wouldn’t go that far, but yes, I had quite a few girlfriends when I was younger. And surprise, gasp, shock ... I didn’t have to pay for any of them.” He asked Barbara to the senior prom and married her twelve months later. Of course, fast-forward four decades, and Barbara ranked as Sammy’s biggest regret, but he was trying to pick up the pieces and enjoy the latter stages of life with this remarkable blend of sugar and spice beside him. Still, the divorce was brutal, and splintered his family. Of his four children, Carolyn remained the only one he was on speaking terms with.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Concern marring her features, Lindsay ran a finger through his weathered, thinning hair.

“Nothing.” Sammy grid his teeth into a smile. “Nothing at all.”

“Okay.” Lindsay didn’t believe him, but knew it was pointless to try to coax out any further answers. Sammy could be stubborn, and she was still learning how to deal with all his idiosyncrasies. “If you and I went to high school together, you wouldn’t have dated any other girls but me.” She leaned back and relaxed with a friskiness in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have permitted it. You would’ve belonged to me, and no one else. You would be my dick.”

A muscle in Sammy’s jaw bunched. “I wouldn’t be permitted to date other broads, but I’m sure you’d still be able to, right? Especially if Mariko or Becky were around?”

“You know it! I’d be one of those gals who cucks her boyfriend or husband – you – and goes out on hot, steamy dates with my girlfriends, spends the night fucking them, and doesn’t return until the next morning.” Lindsay snickered behind closed lips. “And you would be one of those beta males who stays home, does all the cooking and cleaning, all the housework, and you’d be required to lick my pussy on a moment’s notice.” A wild laugh burst from her mouth. “I’d make you wear a collar too!”

Sammy’s finger tapped the wheel as he glared over, the chords in his neck tense. “I’d be your lap dog, huh? Go down on you whenever you want? A ... beta male? Me?” He shook his head but gave in to the teasing. For now. “Maybe I could live with that.” His hand trailed along Lindsay’s inner thigh. “I’ve always liked things that come in small packages.”

Lindsay’s eyes flashed toward his crotch and her voice was full of snark. “That’s funny because I prefer big packages. Gargantuan packages.” She tipped her head back, her face to the sky. “Oh, I guess you’d be allowed to fuck my girlfriends too. I’m not the greedy type.”

“Gee, thanks.” His tone was laced with sarcasm. “You’re turning into a little comedian, aren’t you? How cute. Would you like some advice, babygirl?”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t quit your day job.”

Lindsay’s tongue ran a slow trail between her lips. “And what exactly is my day job, Mr. Steele?”

“You know what it is.” He cut his eyes to hers. “Personal. Executive. Trainee. You’re my assistant.”

“Pet, P-E-T. Yeah, got it.” Another smile traversed her lips. “Haha, you’re a riot too.” Lindsay’s head inclined to the right and she offered a side-eye out the passenger window. “I’d fuck other guys, too, you know, while you stayed home and did all the chores. Not just girls.”

“Let’s be blunt, shall we, little one? No need to beat around the bush or for you to speak out of line anymore, or tease me, disrespect me. No more of this bullshit.” Sammy’s tone darkened. “You’re a cocksucker, Lindsay. You’re my cocksucker; you belong to me. We may be engaged now, and getting married in December, but you’re still a twenty thousand dollar a week cocksucker and you live in the lap of luxury because of it.” How many women would trade places with Lindsay in a heartbeat? A generous weekly stipend and unlimited use of Sammy’s credit cards? A brand-new BMW convertible? An all-expenses paid trip through college? “And don’t you dare fucking forget it.” In the brothel industry alone, Sammy figured, ninety percent of the prostitutes would offer life and limb if they could be in Lindsay’s shoes.

“Hmmmmm. Such a sweet-talker, Daddy. So smooth. But I cannot argue or disagree with you.” Lindsay closed her eyes and sank deeper into the passenger seat. “I’m a cocksucker. And a damn good one too.”

“You’re a mouthy cunt as well.”

Though enjoying the start of a week-long vacation from work, Sammy still filed electronic paperwork from the mountain resort this morning, fielded telephone calls, and had a video conference. Unfortunately, his duties as CEO never went on hiatus too.

At the same time, Lindsay found herself perched on her knees underneath the desk, keeping up with her own workplace responsibilities.

“Just keep suckin’, darlin’. Don’t stop until I tell you to. Oh, fuck yeah. Feels so nice and good. Take your time and make it last. Do it like I taught you. That mouth of yours is like a pussy and, without question, it’s the best investment I’ve ever made. Now keep the noise down – don’t say anything – as I talk with Johnathan, my marketing guru. Just. Keep. Sucking. Remember to tongue and nuzzle my balls too. You know I like that.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Lindsay had settled into the role of submissive sugar baby, a bed girl stuffed with dick, made to please her owner (and his friends) so shamefully. She put her right hand down, then her left, and was on her hands and knees underneath the desk, her golden locks bobbing with the motion of her head, her mouth cherishing Sammy’s dick as if it were the greatest gift she’d ever received.

“Did I tell you to stop sucking?” At one point, Sammy glared down with evil intentions when she borrowed a few seconds to catch her breath. “Put that dick in your mouth where it belongs and get back to work.” He leaned over and smacked the side of her bare hip with an open palm. “If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry, Daddy.” Lindsay unhinged her jaw and a feeble whimper came from within. “Please, please, don’t be angry with me.”

“Just shut up and suck it.”

Sammy held her head still and loitered between her lips and enjoyed the view that he loved the most – that of his concubine with a dick in her mouth. The delightful feeling made it difficult to talk shop with his colleague, so Sammy cut the video a few times and indulged himself, bulldozing into Lindsay just so he could hear her gag.

In the vehicle, silence reigned amongst them for several seconds.

***

Sammy turned and snuck a peak at Lindsay’s slender calves and her stonewashed denim shorts once she reached into her purse and fished out her smartphone. It was a brand-new Samsung Galaxy S10 Plus – perhaps the hottest, most preeminent mobile device on the market at the time – and like so many of Lindsay’s current worldly possessions, Sammy was the one who purchased it.

His eyes drifted upward and focused on her breasts for a beat, obscured by a Los Angeles Dodgers blue hoodie. Another worthwhile investment. This past March, Sammy convinced Lindsay to undergo breast augmentation surgery, with 540cc of silicone injected into each breast, upgrading her from a 32b bust size to 34d. She’s such a pure fuckdoll now – not even one hundred pounds soaking wet, yet a full D cup. Straight out of the Goddamn smut factory.

Though the procedure cost $8,000, it was a small price to pay. I think I’m gonna put my dick between those massive jugs when we get home and go to town again. She had gotten a second tattoo, too – a flower wrap around her left ankle to compliment the butterfly on her abdomen. The ink gives her an edge. It’s sexy as all hell, and she’s getting more soon. I’m gonna see to it.

Sammy returned his gaze to the road as Lindsay swiped her phone and began tapping away. Still, he kept stealing glances. It’s so satisfying to have a chick this young ready to serve my lusts. Like a mad scientist, Sammy was molding Lindsay into his ideal woman. She’s coming along, but still needs some wholesale changes. For anyone who claimed money couldn’t buy happiness, Sammy had a simple three-word response: you’re fucking nuts.

I think I want her pregnant by the time our wedding rolls around in December too. However, it wouldn’t be a typical ceremony. Or perhaps I should gather up all eight of the guys from Nightshade Sanctuary and we can take turns fucking her in the bridal suite. Could Lindsay, who thrived on cock like no one Sammy had ever known, ask for a more memorable wedding night? Or, better yet, just gangbang the holy hell out of her – all at once.

Tomorrow, the cunt takes another step in her ongoing training.

“You texting again?”

“I am. Becky is DMing me.” Lindsay purred as Sammy squeezed her thigh and a slow, lazy grin overtook her lips. She flashed her phone his way, offering visual proof that it was Becky, not anyone else. “Always sweet to hear from her.”

A former client, Becky Watson visited Happy Ending Ranch in July 2018 and partied with Lindsay for several hours over two different nights. Lindsay and Becky shared a genuine connection when together – similar to the attraction Lindsay and Sammy experienced the night they had their initial party as well – and had struck up a relationship outside the house.

Unfortunately, Becky lived all the way across the country in Rhode Island. Her marriage to Nick had fallen on hard times since their ill-fated trip to Nevada and they were now separated.

“Are you and Sammy still on the road?” Lindsay read the text from Becky out loud. “If so, when you get home and have a moment, send me another pic of your beautiful new titties.”

Sammy’s eyes widened. “No reason you can’t do that now. We’re on an open highway in Falls Church on a Monday evening. It’s not like there’s a ton of traffic.” His lips curved upward. “What did you text her in return?”

Lindsay tilted her head back-and-forth and again recited verbatim, “Your tongue has been on my mind all day. And whenever I think of it and remember how you went down on me and made me squirt and splash and come like a leaky sieve, I can’t stop touching myself. I get wet every single time and had to change my panties earlier because of you.”

Lindsay paused, giggled, and took a deep breath.

“True story too. I wasn’t embellishing anything. I sent her another text too. What would you do to me if I showed up at your house tonight in nothing but a G-string, heels, and a fur coat?” She smirked. “Waiting for a response.”

Sammy swallowed over the lump in his throat. “That’s ... quite a pair of texts.” And now, his dick was hard.

With her marriage to Nick in shambles, Lindsay convinced Becky to come to Utah a month ago so they could be together again. But unlike last year, Becky didn’t have to pay a cent as Lindsay promised not to charge her. In fact, it was the other way around. Sammy gifted Becky $20,000 in cash, a huge help in paying her bills, and when she and Lindsay weren’t fucking like lesbian hellcats, well, Sammy was fucking both of them.

At the same time.

Becky is an eight, maybe a nine, no doubt, but she’s too old for me. Still, Sammy floated around the idea of the thirty-six-year-old leaving Rhode Island altogether, moving to Utah, and settling down with him and Lindsay. I know how important Becky is to Lindsay, and I want to keep her happy. Sammy told Becky she wouldn’t have to get a job unless she wanted to either. I’d take care of her, too, and make her my plaything. She’s old, but whatever. Yet the arrangement, the transaction, had to be a two-way street.

While the thought of being with Lindsay full-time was tempting, not to mention bailing on her dead-end job, Becky balked at the idea of moving in with a man pushing sixty. Plus, she had a pair of teenaged children back home and didn’t want to leave them behind.

But when they got older and ventured out on their own, she may change her tune.

“So, is this Becky chick your perfect woman? The one, out of all the girls, you wish you could be with?” Sammy merged over to the left lane and passed a Sunday driver. “I know she’s old enough to be your mom and that thought alone turns you on.” If I’m not mistaken, I believe her daughter turned seventeen a week ago. “She’s fit, she’s blonde, she’s an all-out MILF.”

Lindsay twirled her head about and let loose with an easy smile. “Becky is right up there with Mariko and Pamela in my book, for sure. I could make a case for all three of them, and for different reasons. It’s close. You remember how much I cried when Becky went home to Rhode Island, right? I didn’t want her to leave.” If Lindsay had her way, she would rescue Becky from an unfulfilling life and the two ladies, along with Sammy, would travel the world and have copious amounts of sex.

“And you don’t want anything to do with Amy, right?”

“Amy? Scarlett, you mean? Scarlett from Flagstone? The brothel?” Lindsay’s nose quivered. “No. No way. She’s so fake. Everything about her disgusts me.”

“Fair enough. I know Amy isn’t your type. She never has been. I still like her though. That’s why I keep bringing her back.” I need help; it’s getting difficult to keep up with this cunt. Sammy wanted to devote himself to Lindsay and this forbidden relationship, but also understood they would never have the typical marriage with three kids, a house in the suburbs, and a white picket fence.

It’s impossible to turn a hoe into a housewife.

Sammy realized that Lindsay was a nymphomaniac – her sex drive is twice as powerful as mine, and that’s saying something – and for her to settle into a marriage (and stay committed to it for any length of time), she would require plenty of action on the side too.

While sharing Lindsay with his male friends and colleagues from time to time helped, for sure, Sammy was looking for something much more permanent. I need a hot chick to live with us full time. Someone who wants to fuck as much as Lindsay does so they can keep each other occupied. Was inviting Becky to stay with them for an entire week, illegal “house calls” from Scarlett, Mariko, Sahara, and Riley, amongst many others, and giving Lindsay as much of his dick as he could enough? No. It’ll never be enough. I’m only one man, not an army.

Sammy knew there would come a day – perhaps soon – when Lindsay says that she wishes to go back to the brothel for another tour or two. She took twenty-eight dicks over those three weeks and wears that fact like a badge of honor now. Indeed, Lindsay loved sex. Craves it. Sammy believed that returning to a whorehouse, though he preferred it not be Happy Ending Ranch, would make Lindsay happier than anything.

Even happier than being with him.

She’s a slut; she needs that fix again, and I’m okay with that. I’m a big boy, I’m secure. I know what I signed up for in asking a teenaged whore to marry me. There was no way Sammy could expect Lindsay to be faithful and monogamous, right? She’s begged and pleaded with me to take her to the club the past three Tuesdays. Submissive or not, he feared she would be fucking others behind his back in due time unless he continued to allow her to spread her wings, so to speak, and fly free. Like that butterfly on her tummy.

Lindsay is happy with me, I know, and there’s no way she walks away from the money. Still, Sammy understood that for a girl like this, there would always be more out there. Even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

I gotta give Lindsay the space she wants, the space she needs, and be willing to step away when necessary. Thus, he had made all the arrangements himself, and insisted she board a flight from Salt Lake City to Phoenix, Arizona in the morning. Tomorrow, she becomes independent – a prostitute for hire outside the legality of a Nevada brothel and the comfort zone I’ve created for her here in Utah.