Chapter 10

Jack:

"All right," I replied. "First thing's first. What would you do to get off this rock?"

Frieda blinked. Then she thought for a moment. Finally, she assumed a rueful expression. "Look, Jack, I'm really starting to like you -- you get more impressive by the minute -- but I'm not Beth. At this point, you could tie a piece of twine around her neck and she would follow you everywhere if, when and until you got lucky and stumbled into a pickup -- no offense Sweetie! -- but I'm not built that way. I've been fooled before, and I just can't lock myself down for a maybe. If it happens and we are together or can get that way, I'll be the first one to get naked and jump on your cock, but for now I need to hold my options open."

I settled back in my seat. "That's fair." Unsurprising, too -- Frieda wouldn't be big on trust.

Frieda turned to Beth, "Sweetie, I wasn't trying to be mean. Jack, here, more than rates anything you need to do to keep him. I'd marry him, if I were you, while you wait. But I can't stick myself out there on a maybe and run the chance that I'll be in the Ladies Room when the walls come down -- or that Jack might just decide I'm not as hot as some other chick on site at the last second. I'll be happy to hang out with you guys, and if it happens, I'll want to interview, but I can't go joining a harem in waiting..."

Beth seemed to take this in stride. She reached over and put her hand atop mine and asked, "Jack, can I handle this?"

More or less baffled, I said, "Sure..."

Beth pulled her purse onto the table and reached into it, pulling out a piece of paper. She handed it to Frieda. "Read this." Then she calmly placed her purse back on the floor.

Frieda unfolded the paper. It took maybe two seconds for her eyes to pop. Then she looked up at me. "I've seen a couple of these. Is it genuine?"

I cocked my head. "I don't know -- what is it?"

Frieda passed the paper -- and I recognized it instantly; it was the document I'd pulled up on the computer at Beth's that morning -- her status notification. "Yes." I handed it back.

Frieda looked a little shaky. "It says she's already -- you're already..."

"Yes." I nodded.

Frieda picked up her margarita glass and took a big slug of it, then put it down and played for a moment with a water ring on the table. "Could I, like, get a dog collar?"

I grinned. "Spikes, or those diamond-shaped metal studs?"

"Oh, spikes, of course." She began to smile.

"You'll have to take it off if I decide to suck your neck, or whatever," I teased.

"That's fine, I'm sure..." She drew some more pictures in the water. "What am I signing up for, exactly?"

"The standard concubine thing," I replied, pulling no punches. "Sex on demand -- and anything else I want, for that matter. Kids. In return, you come with us when I'm done here and I support and protect you and give you a place to live -- until we irritate each other beyond tolerance, at which point, I try to find you another place to live." I paused. "I'm doing this for Beth; I don't promise love, although I love Beth and I love both of my other concubines -- it's way too early for that. But if it works, it works."

Beth looked unhappy, but Frieda said, "That seems fair. No promises you can't keep."

"Exactly," I agreed. "I'm being as honest and straightforward with you as I know how. There are no guarantees -- I can't predict the future. But I meet my obligations."

Frieda glanced down at the paper. "This was effective last night."

"That's right."

"When are you leaving?"

"Saturday."

"If I say yes, when is it effective?"

"As soon as you pass the test drive," I told her. "One of those will be in process wherever it is they are generated before we leave the building."

Frieda nodded; clearly, she EXPECTED a test drive. "Okay."

"So we come back to my original question," I murmured, "What would you do to get off this rock?"

Frieda looked me in the eye and declaimed flatly, "Anything. Name it."

"Are you a virgin?"

"Technically -- in one hole. My stepdad and his brother left my pussy alone," Frieda replied. Beth gasped. "Probably because I wasn't quite eleven when Mom filed for divorce, and she warned him that if he gave us trouble he would go away for pedophilia."

"You were still lucky, I bet," I replied.

"You're not surprised."

"I've seen your CAP scores -- or had them interpreted for me, anyway," I informed her. "I don't want to be seen as an abuser; would you give it to me?"

"You're fine -- we understand each other. You're not trying to tell me you love me and that I ought to be nice to you," Frieda replied in a flat voice. "I'd be happy to fuck you."

"God..." Beth covered her face.

"It's all right, Sweetie," Frieda told her, patting her shoulder. "Jack is handling things just right. He's not being mean -- he's telling me what I need to hear -- straight up, the way I need to hear it." She eyed me. "You know a shrink?"

"I know an AI." I paused. "I could pass on the test drive, but that would be doing both of us a disservice, wouldn't it?"

Frieda smiled ferally. "Yeah. You wouldn't know if I was any good, and I would feel like a charity case -- like I hadn't earned it. What do you want? Name it. The cherry is no problem -- I've been wanting to get rid of that for years."

"How's your head?" I asked.

"I'm out of practice -- but I'm told it's like riding a bicycle," Frieda replied, her eyes on mine.

<From her statements, it is a high-probability that she has had no sexual contact with a male since she was ten, > the AI supplied.

'Tell me something I DON'T know!' I thought, but didn't bother to subvocalize. I patted the bench on my left. "Get naked and climb up here and show Beth how to give a blowjob." I patted the bench on my right. "Beth, you get naked, too, and climb up here to learn how."

Beth got big eyes and glanced around, but Frieda didn't. She threw her tank top over her head and regarded Beth, "Sweetie, I can walk, but YOU have NO CHOICE! Get moving -- your man gave you an instruction!" She undid her jeans and stepped out of them.

"Jack?" Beth gulped.

"Now, Babe," I said gently. "Don't worry -- I can empty the place if I have to. Nobody is going to do anything." I chucked her under the chin.

"Yes, Jack." Beth bucked up, stood up, and started getting out of her clothing. Frieda was already crawling along the bench and reaching for my zipper. I shucked out of my pants, pulling my stinger from the hidden holster at the small of my back and putting it beside me on the bench.

"Ooooo! Nice!" Frieda collected my somewhat lank but already erecting cock. I've seen porn flicks where the guys start out dead in the water and take forever to get an erection, even while being attended to -- and I've never understood it. I get hard just thinking about having a woman touch my cock -- never mind having one actually DO it ... I was like stone before Frieda had jacked it twice! She looked up at Beth and said, "You hit the jackpot here, Sweetie -- this thing is BEAUTIFUL! And a good two inches longer than Uncle Bart's..." Beth was just crawling onto the bench as Frieda rolled her lips over it. Releasing it with a pop, Frieda said, "Cut, too! No nasty goo under the foreskin..." She rolled her lips up and down it a couple of times -- they felt MARVELOUS! -- and then she murmured, "Yeah, just like riding a bicycle..." -- then she stuck her face in my pubes, swallowing it to the root!

"Holy shit!" I gasped. While she was down there, she proceeded to swallow, too!

Frieda popped back off it, smiling. "Am I passing?"

"Oh, yeah..." I gasped. Dottie and Tina didn't do THIS -- maybe because I hadn't had their throats modified...

"Step-Daddy and Uncle Bart weren't this big -- but I was a lot younger, too, so I had to learn deep throat," she confided. "It still works, I see..."

"I hope they're under a jail somewhere," I croaked, "but..."

Frieda smiled. "Yeah -- you reap the benefits..." Turning her attention to Beth, she intoned, "Come closer, Sweetie, and let Auntie Frieda teach you all about sucking dicks..."

I settled back, slouching against the bench, my eyes glazed. Frieda's head would bob, and then Beth's ... Frieda would make comments like "See this spot? It's REAL sensitive..." or "Suck, but just enough to bring your cheeks in over your teeth -- otherwise, it's too rough for him and too much work for you..." or "Use that tongue! Your pussy doesn't have one, which is probably too bad..." and "Ease up going in -- rest your mouth. But tighten up coming back and give the ridge at the back of the head a workout..." Frieda's answer to deep throat was, "Don't try to do this -- get the basics down first. But you can see that it IS possible..." -- and her throat worked over my glans. Heavenly...

The bartender minced over and stood wiping his hands. "Hey, uh..."

I eyed him. "I'm guessing that this isn't a whole lot different than what would have happened if those two had won," I opined. The guy grimaced; I knew I had him. "Except maybe you'd have gotten some, huh?" I guessed.

He grimaced again. "Yeah."

Frieda's head popped up. "You had probably fifty opportunities, and you blew it, Buster! Now he owns me -- and YOU'RE out of luck! HA HA HA!" she announced sarcastically.

I shrugged. "When she's right, she's right ... Audience participation tonight will be limited to viewing. Send the waitress over, will you? I need another beer."

He didn't want to hear that -- but I didn't give a damn. I was about eight seconds from getting a nut in Frieda's throat ... Holding her head in place, I grunted, "Finish me!" She had no problem with the instruction, taking me deep and swallowing until she knew I'd hit the point of no return, then backing off to take my seed in her mouth. I hunched and grunted and gushed and enjoyed it thoroughly; when I was done, she backed off smiling with her lips closed and beckoned Beth over. Beth leaned up and Frieda locked lips with her; Beth grunted in surprise and I realized that she was taking delivery of a snowball.

"Good stuff, huh?" Frieda grinned, backing off.

Beth gulped and nodded, then grinned back. "Thtickth in my bratheth..."

"It's a snack for later," Frieda chuckled.

The waitress showed up about then. "You wanted something?" she asked faintly.

"Another beer for me and two more margaritas for my girls," I replied.

"I didn't expect this, earlier," she muttered.

"It just happened," I replied, "but it was an outgrowth of the earlier incident. They tended to do this kind of thing, didn't they?" I asked, referring to Prince Charming and company.

"Well, yeah." Clearly, it embarrassed the woman.

"And management tolerates it."

The woman nodded.

"Yet you work here..."

"I..."

"Bring us our drinks, Honey." I waved her off.

Frieda, now sitting on the bench to my left, muttered, "You were rough on her."

"When did you see them pass around that girl?" I asked.

"It's been months."

"How many times do you figure it's happened?"

"Several," Frieda admitted.

"And she's still working here," I accused. "She's a cocktail waitress -- she can find work elsewhere. She likes it. She likes to watch. The bartender is probably fucking her."

Frieda shrugged, grinning. "So she has issues. Sounds like concubine material." Eyeing me sidelong, she asked, "So, did I pass?"

I rubbed her shoulder. "You pass. Welcome to sex slavery."

"Promise me you'll fuck me soon."

"You're not allowed to make demands," I reminded her.

"Yes, Master," she grinned unrepentant. "Can I beg a lot?"

"That's allowed." I tugged Beth closer to me and kissed her on the neck. Frieda was more outgoing; I would need to pay attention to Beth to make sure she wasn't eclipsed.

The waitress came back, eyes downcast, and began placing drinks on the table. "Can I play with her?" Frieda whispered.

"Okay."

Frieda turned and unloaded on the waitress. "Stay a while, Honey. Pull up a chair -- we know you like to watch." The waitress froze, looked around -- toward the bar, in particular -- and dragged a chair around to face us.

I made sure I had a nipple in each hand; Beth had picked up my stinger and was holding it in her lap. "Don't pull the trigger," I whispered in her ear, "You won't like the result."

"Are you married, Honey, or do you just wear that ring to keep the flies away?" Frieda asked. "Where's your old man?"

The waitress flicked a glance at me before replying, "God knows. Technically, I'm still married -- but it's only because I can't find him to serve papers. He hasn't done nothing for me for a while." I guess I should describe the woman: Black, busty, a little thick, but not huge. Tall. Nice legs for a black woman; they tend not to be shaped the same as whites -- fewer curves, or different ones, anyway. Her skirt was demure for length, but molded itself to a nice, padded ass. She was right around thirty, at a guess -- maybe just short of it. She wasn't done up for the bar only -- more a working waitress rig that would allow her to work the family-oriented restaurant area -- but her assets were on display. She had a nice face -- the nose wasn't as big as usual, although it was a bit short. She had puffy cheeks and big lips, but they made her look a bit younger than she was.

Meanwhile, Frieda continued the interrogation. "How many kids?"

"Three. A boy and two girls. How did you know?"

"You've got the look." Frieda paused, then let go the next zinger, "So how often do you have to fuck the bartender?"

The waitress took it between the eyes; her lips pursed and her eyes widened and she rocked like she'd been hit. Then she dropped her eyes to the table top and muttered, "Depends. He likes white chicks better -- and the other waitress is white. Still, she isn't on and you've probably stirred him up -- I'll probably have to give him a blowjob, anyway, tonight. Otherwise? Every couple of weeks. Longer than that if Troy and Tony drum up anything. Like I said, he prefers white chicks." The bartender was a beefy bald guy with a moustache -- a white guy.

"Is it a problem?" Frieda asked.

"Not usually." The way she clammed up, you knew there was more.

"Come on, Honey..."

"I'm gonna want more tonight," the waitress whispered, blushing an eggplant shade.