Chapter 30

On the return flight, Dave and I exchanged many surprised glances as we reviewed the new contract. It appeared Derrin agreed to everything he’d demanded. And once home, a quick check of the website confirmed my updated status. In addition, Derrin had kept his promise and upgraded the entire site, which prominently featured my escapades.

All of which meant even more money was pouring in.

However, my husband had been serious about making changes. While considering our next moves with Derrin, we purchased recording gear. Although still unsure how to handle Super Fan travel requests, he instituted bonus content for Premium members.

During the week, when rates were cheapest, we stayed at local rental properties. True solo, unlike my first foray. He took photographs and captured short videos of me playing. Those were available to my top-paying followers.

As he learned to run a set, I amused myself in tubs, or rode toys while strapped to the beds. Sometimes he blindfolded me, while other times he wanted me gazing into the camera.

Also, no more secret conversations. Instead, he was right beside me, or deep inside me, as I chatted.

Premium membership skyrocketed.

Yippee, advertising for the win!

Yet, as time went on, as much as I enjoyed working with him, that itchy ember kept niggling at me. I’d not been “interactive” since the gym. Well, since the thousand blinking red lights at the after-party.

Since Troy.

In addition, after reviewing comments, I mentioned the Super Fans were becoming increasingly vocal about renting me. Which I’d yet to do, but the image of the rich guy in gold on that enormous yacht, amongst other photos, wouldn’t leave my mind. Dave’s only response was to turn pale and mutter he’d think about it.

Good slut that I was, I let it drop. Big mistake.

One Saturday morning, we were drinking coffee on the couch. Silent and leaning over his tablet, I figured he was planning another session. We were constantly pushing the envelope, exploring new things together.

At the last set, he’d had me play with myself for the followers before strapping me over our newest toy—a well-padded bench. Equipped with thick cuffs at its base, it was quite comfortable. With it in place, we added a solid lock to the old spare bedroom. Didn’t want the boys returning home to uncover what mommy and daddy were doing while they were away in college.

But it was worth it. Whenever we used that leather hobby horse, my followers sent in requests for him to fuck me, toy with me, whip me, or all the above. Amid those blinking red lights, great fun was had. We’d done it again the day before.

Just thinking about it had me squirming on the cushions. Plus, even the lightest possible crop hanging from my bare tits was aggravating their steely, tight nipples.

“Derrin called again,” he said.

“Oh, really?” After easing a finger from my panties, I brought it to my lips. “Um, what did you tell him?”

Right as he was about to reply, his phone beeped. He looked down, sighed, and typed a response. To my question, he still didn’t reply. Instead, he stood and walked from the room, returning with one of our latest purchases.

“Get on.”

As my wobbly legs unfurled from the couch, my pussy began fluttering while watching him affix “Super Max” to a corner of the coffee table’s surface. He’d picked it out for me. It was massive. Truly impressive when compared to Big Max. But he never filmed me on it. Rather, I’d ride all evening while he worked around the house or watched television. With a grin, I tugged down my panties, spread my shaky thighs and gazed into my husband’s stony face as I sank.

That’s unusual.

Normally, Dave smiled, and I suckled him as I began to bounce. Instead, as I huffed my way downwards, the enormous chilly tube pushing apart my insides, he turned it on and tossed the phone into his pocket.

Two things struck me right as those delicious vibrations whirred within me. A tremor ran along my spine. He hadn’t called me “slut” as he’d told me to ride it. And then, stranger still, he’d not even watched. Instead, he went upstairs, leaving me moaning. As the huge, deep-ridged silicon monster gouged and throbbed within me, my walls responded, clenching. But my gaze was fixed on the ceiling as his footfalls receded.

By the time the stairs creaked, and he stood before me again, I could barely hold myself vertical. When he finally flicked off the enormous dildo, my pleading eyes stared at him. His nose wrinkled as my aromatic sweet nectar dripped off the table corner to the carpet. Desperate for relief, my muscles roiled.

“Can I, um, sir?” I whispered, the need in my strained tone screaming louder than the words.

But I already knew the answer. He never let me come and he shook his head.

“I laid out what you’re to wear on the bed. It’s time for you to return to work.” Fingertips trembling, he stood there for a moment with his face blank before adding in a distant voice, “Slut.”

Return to work?

With a gulp, I grimaced while slurping noisily from the shiny black tower. When I stumbled as the massive glistening shaft plopped free to wag in the air, he caught me. But rather than hugging, he shoved me upright and aimed me for the staircase. With warmth sluicing down my legs, the fragrance of my arousal was everywhere as I clambered up the stairs. Whenever my rubbing thighs made me tense, I leaned against the wall to huff.

Once I’d staggered into the bedroom, my heart seized and then raced at the sight of the clothes on the bed. It was the teacher costume. Black leather miniskirt and a translucent off-white silk blouse. The room spun when I lifted a black floral-trimmed garter and lace-top stockings. There were neither panties nor a bra.

After a gulp, I chewed my lips as my chest hammered.

Oh, God. Will Troy be there?

The basalt giant’s brilliant smile rushed into my mind and, already sloppy between my legs, I took extra care while fixing my hair and makeup. Without underwear, every cool breeze drifting over my soaking folds drew whimpers. After I’d dressed, the scent of my sex flooded the room and followed me downstairs to where Dave waited.

Thwap.

He’d slapped a flogger on the table.

“Come on.”

Again, he’d forgotten to add “slut” and my chest tightened. My gaze locked on the whip’s slender black trails splayed across the wooden surface. Though he caught my look, he said nothing. As he turned away, his face was still drawn and eyes inscrutable.

Should I have asked what was eating at him? Yes, absolutely. Unqualified, yes. Loving wife should’ve trumped horny, obedient slut. But riding the edge as I was, my mind was focused on whatever awaited me. Plus, Troy’s smile had reappeared after only residing in the deepest dreams.

Besides, it was clear this was to be a test. One, he was unsure I’d pass. Nor was I, for that matter.

All of which meant I kept silent. Teeth deep in my lower lip, I followed him into the kitchen atop click-clacking heels.

Out in the garage, he helped me up into his new vehicle. And yes, I gave him a clear view of my leaky need. But that didn’t get more than a slight grin from him.

The luxury SUV smelled of leather. It was shiny, black, and enormous.

“Just like you prefer,” he’d said with a chuckle after spotting it amid a sea of cars.

Dave knew. Well, of course, he knew. He’d known since Dave—the other Dave. The dark-skinned, hunky one.

A month prior, we’d gone into the auto dealer and found the same salesman who’d sold me the red convertible. Which I adored. Its rumbling engine, added to whatever power Dave had set the vibrator, was—wondrous.

After a handshake, Dave explained why we were there. Oh, the guy’s eyes had widened, but he got what he wanted. While fucking my ass, his hands stroked my ribs as I sucked on my smiling hubby. Nope, he hadn’t been wearing the cockring. He fed his mewling, slutty whore wife twice. Once I’d slurped the guy’s pole clean, we got all the upgrades at no cost. Yeah, it blew the salesman’s mind to have me suck on him after being in my rectum. Dumb, yeah. But he’d a fairly nice cock. For a white guy.

Once inside the tall truck, the aroma of its shiny upholstery squeaking under my rear mixed with the perfume of my sex. Plus, the expensive stuff I’d dabbed under my chin and between my tits. As he pulled from the house, he remained quiet. And still in slut mode, so was I. while staring at passing homes, my mind was light-years ahead, wondering where we were headed. No luggage meant local.

After leaving our side of town, we took a winding drive across the city. Then continued further, thumping over disused, weed-choked railroad tracks, and moving deep into a rundown, mixed industrial area. As the roads worsened, the buildings became more dilapidated. At last, he pulled to the curb before a six-story apartment building. Grimy windows poked from stained brown brick. Overflowing garbage bins and piles of broken furniture flanked the filthy glass and wood entrance doors.

With a loud gulp, I glanced at my husband. As he sat there, his face had hardened, and his eyes stayed focused on the road ahead. On the rawhide-wrapped steering wheel, his white-knuckled hands squeaked.

I’m a professional now. I’ll pass his—our—test. Show him—and myself—I can be trusted.

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