Chapter 91

Jeff walked into their bedroom to find only Diana and Arlene there. He frowned, having expected all his wives to be waiting to make love. Diana had already commented that weddings made women horny. This wedding was finally behind them. All that was left would be to feed the guests breakfast and get them on their way. There would be a few left for lunch, but shortly after that, the guests would be history.

"Where are..."

"They're giving us some time together," Diana said, further mystifying him. He wasn't sure what the look on her face meant.

"But I thought your mom would be here tonight."

"She's ... hesitant to join us."

"But we made love yesterday. I thought she would be here tonight."

Diana stood and walked over to her husband. "Who was dominant in her marriage to my Dad?" Diana quietly asked.

"Hah," Jeff laughed. "Your dad was a nice guy, but there was no doubt who wore the pants in that family."

"Exactly," Diana agreed, "And..."

"'And, ' what?"

"Who wears the pants in this family?" she grinned back at him.

Not being totally stupid, Jeff quickly answered, "You do, My Love."

Diana chuckled and Arlene let out an unladylike snort. Grinning at him, Diana said, "Good answer, but we all know that's total bullshit. Oh, I'm the Queen and I run this family until a decision has to be made — an important decision. Then there's suddenly no doubt who our Prime is. So as you would say, 'let's cut to the chase.' Mom isn't coming until you make her."

"Well, if she doesn't want..."

"Jeff," Diana stressed, "now isn't the time to play games. I'm serious. Mom is a Queen, too, as you well know. But she hasn't been your Queen. She is used to being dominant — being the boss. If you want her in our bed, you're going to have to put her in it."

"Di, I'm not going to force anyone... "

Arlene giggled, and Jeff tried to glare at her.

"Hmmm, 'not going to force anyone, '" Diana said, trying to mock his deep voice, "Seems like I remember being carried on your shoulders to this bed on several occasions. Spanked with a hairbrush and that big hand of yours until my ass was red ... not to mention that cat of nine tails, or whatever you call it."

"Me, too," Arlene broke in.

Diana continued, " ... Put on my hands and knees and taken on several — make that numerous occasions. And, like Arlene says, you did it to your other Queen as well..."

"My ass remembers it, too," Arlene broke in to say, but the giggle she fought back showed her true feelings.

"Do you honestly think my mother is going to walk in here and say, 'Here I am; I'm yours?'"

"Well, she, uh, submitted easily enough in the hallway..."

"Jeff, she had no intention of going as far as she did, and you know it. She was confused and needed to talk. Suddenly she was one-on-one with you in a secluded area. You're kinda hard to resist, whether you believe it or not. Now back to our present problem: you have to go get her and bring her to your bed. Making love in the hallway, and coming to your bed permanently are different things. She's a Queen, Jeff. She ruled her marriage all those years. Dad is dead now, and suddenly she's around an Alpha — an Alpha Prime — and her youth is back. If she weren't a Queen, she would be in this bed," she said, motioning, "but she is a Queen, and a dominant one. She'll never truly respect you unless you show her who is boss — on a personal basis.

"I know my mother. She's waiting, and she wants to be here, but her pride won't let her. Go make her your woman. Pick her up, dose her with pheromones and bring her to your bed. In her mind, she must be made to submit to her Alpha. We've talked about this a lot. She loved Dad, but they weren't matched. She wants to be your mate, but she's not really anxious to be number eleven — not a Queen."

"So, is there going to be a power struggle between my Queens?"

Diana put her hands on her hips and was about to respond when she saw the twinkle in his eyes. "Has there ever been?" she answered anyway. "We'll work it out, just like Arlene and I do — and the rest of your wives, also. Now quit playing the abused male and go get my mother."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said with a grin.

Diana stuck her tongue out at him.

Jeff walked into Susan's suite without knocking. She was sitting, dressed in a fairly conservative negligée, in her sitting room watching TV, or so it seemed.

"Don't you ever knock?"

Jeff ignored her comment. "I thought you were going to sleep with us tonight?"

Susan frowned. "Just because we made love doesn't mean..."

Jeff took Susan's hand, pulled her to her feet, leaned over and threw her over his shoulder, not being overly gentle.

"Oooph," she said as she landed across his shoulder.

"It must be catching," Jeff chuckled. "I saw Frank put Margaret on his shoulder, and I just had to do it to you."

"This is not going to work with me," Susan complained, as she began to struggle in earnest, managing to get her hands under her and on his shoulder. Arching up, she tried to twist away.

I hope Di is right about this. If she isn't, I'm going to be in the doghouse for a while, Jeff thought, then, In for a penny, in for a pound. He applied his hand to her shapely ass — hard.

Whack.

Susan hissed in a breath, the negligée obviously not providing much protection.

"You're going to sleep in our big bed tonight, and from now on. Di says you're a Queen, and I'm not letting you get away. Besides, you sure acted like you liked it yesterday when we made love."

"That was yesterday," she hissed out, trying to rub her ass as he started out the door. "I'm not going to..."

Whack! — even harder.

"Ouch. Damnit, Jeff, that hurts," she complained with a squeal, despite herself.

"Your tits feel good against my back," he said, just to piss her off.

Susan kicked and struggled, but he could already smell her. As he walked into their suite with her slung over his shoulder, Susan, still kicked her feet and squirmed, but Jeff realized she wasn't putting all her strength into it.

In their bedroom, he flipped her onto the bed beside Arlene. One of Susan's boobs popped out of the nightie. There was already a drop of milk oozing out of her left nipple. Susan tried to roll away, but Jeff had already knelt between her legs. Grabbing one leg, he reached up with the other hand and grasped her bikini panties. With a hard yank as he stood back up, he pulled them from her and tossed them over his head.

Susan rolled over, came to her knees and tried to scramble away. Jeff barely managed to grab an ankle in time. "Naughty, naughty. You don't have a pussy full of come, yet. Mustn't run off in the heat of the day."

"You idiot, it's ten below zero out there," Susan couldn't help but reply, barely managing to keep from laughing. She was wondering how he would manage to hold her and get his pants off at the same time.

Jeff dragged her back to the side of the bed, causing the negligée to ride up well above her hips. The only thing left covered was her right breast, and if the wet spot on her nightie was any indication, that breast was doing the same thing the left one was — squirting milk.

Diana lay on her back well clear of the action, her right hand between her legs, gently toying with her clitoris, her left hand tweaking a nipple.

Arlene, growing tired of the delay, got up and unbuckled, unzipped and pushed down Jeff's jeans to his ankles, taking his shorts with them. He was already barefooted.

"You're helping him," Susan accused in the most indignant voice she could muster.

"Sure am. I'm his wife. Who else would I help?" Arlene responded.

Jeff stepped out of his pants and shorts; Arlene pulled them away.

Susan flipped over on her hands and knees, grumbling about granddaughters who weren't respectful to their elders, then tried to crawl quickly away again. Jeff grabbed both ankles and yanked her back. Her pussy was right before him — wet, her nether lips flushed. He grabbed his cock with one hand while holding her hip with the other. She wiggled her ass, causing his cock to miss her hole. He lined his cock up again and pushed, but the angle was still off. His big hand came down against her ass cheek, the crack of contact — loud.

"Oh, shit," she complained, but she had hesitated for a moment with the shock of the slap. Arlene grabbed his cock and lined it up. He pushed hard. Susan wiggled her ass, bucking, but the big cock slid in, anyway. She hissed in a breath as it spread her — slammed into her cervix. She tried to buck him off, but that caused the head of his cock to move against her cervix even more. An orgasm so strong it took her breath, hit. She howled like a cat in heat as she wiggled her ass again, but now she wasn't trying to get him out of her.

Jeff reached forward, yanking the nightie over the constrained breast, then grabbing both of them, he began to pound into her.

Arlene capped her hands over her own ears, laughing, as Susan howled. Diana arched her hips up from the bed as her right hand continued stroking her clit, her own gasp and wail adding to the noise.

A few minutes later, Jeff pulled his dripping cock out of Susan's well-used pussy as she collapsed on the bed. Arlene pushed a hand towel between her grandmother's legs, then arranged her so that she would be comfortable. Her grandmother quickly taken care of, Arlene took Susan's place on hands and knees. Looking over her shoulder at her husband, "Two more Queens to go," she grinned, wiggling her ass at him.

Jeff pushed his cock home as Arlene gasped and shivered out a first orgasm.

College was easy; what got him there wasn't. He had never really known his mom. He had some vague memories of her, and of course, a few pictures. But seeing a faded picture of a two-year-old balanced on a pretty blond's knee didn't bring back much in the memory department, either. His dad had been bitter, and ever since Art Hanes could remember, his father had made sarcastic remarks about bikers and the whore who rode off with them leaving her husband and small son to fend for themselves.

Art guessed his father had dated some over the years; there was a woman around from time to time, but for the most part, his father became, and remained, a bitter man. One night, shortly after graduating high school, Art got a call from the local police. His father had wrapped his pickup around a tree. Shortly, there were rumors that he had been drunk, but the autopsy showed he had been stone cold sober. The insurance company stalled about paying, since Art's father had upped his coverage only a month before, but eventually, they gave up and sent a check. Who knows; maybe it was suicide, or maybe someone ran him off the road, or maybe he just went to sleep at the wheel. Whatever happened, Art was now alone in the world without a single living relative. His dad had been an only child, and all his grandparents were long since dead.

Art sucked it up, sold his father's house, took that and the insurance money and headed to a good college. Four years later, just before graduation, he was approached by the FBI. His first impulse was to laugh at them, but the two agents who were chosen to recruit him were good at their jobs. Hell, he even liked Quantico.

But ... where he expected to go and what he expected to do, didn't happen when he left the academy. Oh, he agreed to it, and sitting in that office that night, the mission, if you want to call it that, seemed ... glamorous. Seemed.

MONTHS LATER

"Heads up!" someone yelled.

Art (now in his new persona of Billy) looked up and stepped back, all in one motion. The heavy razor bar (tool used to remove old shingles from a roof) thudded into the ground a foot in front of him.

Franklin stood on the roof three stories up, grinning down at him. "Oops," Billy's nemesis sarcastically said, barely suppressing a laugh.

"I'll 'oops' your mother fucking ass," Billy yelled back up at him. "You did that on purpose, you son-of-a-bitch."

"Careful there Billy Boy. Keep on and I'll come down there and spank you. Besides, you should have left for the dump with that load by now."

"Fuck you. If you guys would hit the truck when you throw that stuff off the roof, I wouldn't have to pick up so much of this shit."

"Get the fucking truck loaded and get the shit out of here."

"You tried to kill me, you bastard, and it ain't the first time. You almost hit me with that ladder yesterday. I ain't bending over to pick up anything else with you standing above me," he yelled, trying to keep his vernacular along the lines of the roofers.

"I told you I would come down there and spank..."

"Fuck you, you son-of-a-bitch!" Billy yelled. "Bring your ass on."

That roofer had been tough. Billy (Art) would give him that. Billy would never have won without the martial arts survival class he had taken that semester, and the training he had gotten at the academy, not to mention the back-breaking work he had done for so long. But "won" was a relative term. He was still standing, mostly, when the others decided to pull him back. Still, his ribs hurt, his right hand was stiff and swollen, and he damn sure wasn't going to kiss anyone in the near future.

The boss had fired both of them.

It had all worked into the plan, though. That night at the bar, nursing a beer he could ill afford, he griped to the bartender that he was out of work and just about broke. Deep cover was just that. He lived on what he made. No money; no eat. His FBI salary went into an account that he would be given access to when this case was over — or he quit. He was no quitter. If this case doesn't kill me first, he thought. After today, he wasn't as sure about survival as he once was.

But, and as he had hoped, the four men in the corner booth had heard his gripes to the bartender. One of them came over. "Heard you say you were out of work. Come on over and we'll talk. Beer's on me."

Finally, he was offered the job he had been trying to get for over a year. A job he couldn't directly ask for, or even appear to want. Still, he had been around at the right time when they had a vacancy, a vacancy provided by, of all things, a bored cop who noticed someone running a red light in the middle of the night, stopped the car, checked the driver for wants, and presto, the organization was short a man. Billy finally had the job his FBI bosses wanted him to have.