Chapter 14: Midnight Watersports
Time lost its shape.
It pooled in the corners of the room with the scent of sex and sweat, dripping slowly from the concept of later into the viscous, endless now. Rick lay on the platform, his cheek against the cooling wood. His body felt dismantled, reassembled incorrectly. The memory of Kofi inside him was a phantom limb, a persistent, burning echo. Kate hadn’t moved from the chair. She was a statue of a woman, her gaze fixed on some middle distance where the world hadn’t cracked open.
Neither spoke. Words were dead leaves skittering across a crater.
Sharmin was the first to move, a sleek panther stretching. She walked to a sideboard, poured water from a crystal carafe into two glasses. The sound was obscenely normal. She approached Kate first, holding the glass to her lips. “Drink.”
Kate’s lips parted obediently. She swallowed.
Sharmin then crouched beside Rick, tilting his head back. The water was cool, a shock to his system. He gulped it down, some of it spilling over his chin.
“Up,” Kofi’s voice cut through the silence. He had been watching them, a satisfied curator observing his latest acquisitions. “Both of you. You reek of surrender. You’ll clean up.”
They moved stiffly, limbs protesting. Kate’s heels clicked a hesitant rhythm on the tile. Rick’s bare feet were silent. They followed Kofi through the spacious, shadowed house, out through a sliding door that opened onto a secluded courtyard garden. The night air was a warm, humid blanket, fragrant with night-blooming jasmine and damp earth.
Centered in a grove of broad-leafed plants was the shower. It was a sculpture of function: a wide, circular space of smooth river stones, walled by panels of blackened cedar, open to the sky. A single, wide showerhead sent a steady, rain-like downpour into the center. Steam rose gently, caught in the low glow of paper lanterns strung in the trees.
“In,” Kofi commanded.
They stepped under the cascade. The water was warm, a minor mercy. It sluiced over Kate’s skin, washing streaks of sweat and salt from her breasts, her stomach. It coursed through Rick’s hair, over the sore muscles of his back and shoulders, between his buttocks where a deep, tender ache throbbed. They stood facing each other, the water a curtain between them and the world, but their eyes couldn’t meet. They washed mechanically, hands passing over skin that felt borrowed.
Sharmin and Kofi stood just outside the shower’s reach, watching. Their clothes were gone, replaced by simple white towels wrapped around their waists. They were at ease, powerful in their nakedness.
“Enough,” Sharmin said after a few minutes. “Now, the service.”
Kofi dropped his towel. He stepped into the shower, the water immediately plastering his short hair to his skull, beading on his shoulders. He went straight to Kate, his hands on her wet hips, turning her roughly to face the cedar wall. He pressed her front against the slick, dark wood.
“Hands here,” he said, placing her palms flat against the planks above her head. “Stay.”
He looked at Rick, who stood frozen, water streaming down his face. “You. On your knees.”
Rick sank to the wet stone floor. The water pooled around his knees. Sharmin entered the shower then, moving behind him. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders. “Look at her,” she whispered in his ear, her voice carrying over the drumming water. “Watch what happens when a man takes what he wants.”
Kofi positioned himself behind Kate. One hand fisted in her wet hair, yanking her head back. The other guided his already-swelling cock, rubbing the thick head through the slick cleft of her ass, down to her folds. She was wet there—from fear, from the shower, from the twisted, inescapable arousal that this nightmare sparked.
“You’re slick for it,” Kofi grunted, pushing just the tip inside her pussy. She gasped, her fingers scrambling against the wood. He pulled out, leaving her empty and clenching. “But that’s too easy. Too kind.” He traced back up, the pressure firm against her other hole.
Rick saw her body tense, a ripple of panic tightening her shoulders. He started to push up from his knees.
A sharp, stinging slap from Sharmin cracked across the back of his head. “Did I say you could move?” Her voice was ice. She pushed him back down, her knee pressing between his shoulder blades. “You watch. You learn your place.”
Kofi’s hand left Kate’s hair and covered her mouth, silencing the cry that was forming. With his other hand, he guided himself again, this time pressing insistently against her tight, unyielding back entrance. He spat into his palm, worked it over himself, a crude lubricant. “This is the hole I want,” he stated, the words devoid of anything but intent. “This is the hole I’ll break.”
He pushed.
Kate’s scream was muffled by his hand, becoming a choked, desperate gurgle. Her body arched against the wall, trying to escape the invasion. It was a brutal, dry breach, a violation of physics and flesh. Kofi didn’t stop. He leaned his weight into her, a relentless, slow impalement until he was buried to the hilt, his body flush against her writhing backside.
Rick whimpered, a sound of pure anguish. His own ass clenched in sympathetic, remembered pain.
“Shut up,” Sharmin hissed. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his head, her fingers tangling in his wet hair. She pulled him backwards, off his knees, until he was sitting in the water, his back against her legs. Then she shifted, moving around to straddle his face. “You want to help her? Distract her. Eat my cunt. Make her hear you worship me while her husband splits her open. Show me how well you eat pussy, boy, or I’ll make your wife drink from the toilet tomorrow.”
Her threat was casual, absolute. She lowered herself onto his mouth, her thighs framing his head, her wetness—hot and musky and entirely different from Kate’s—smothering him. The world narrowed to taste and sound: the tang of her, the pounding water, the ragged, wet sounds of Kofi fucking Kate’s ass, and Kate’s own stifled, agonized moans.
Rick’s mind broke. There was no choice. There was only survival, and survival meant obedience. He opened his mouth and licked. He lapped at Sharmin’s folds with a frantic, desperate energy. He probed with his tongue, trying to find a rhythm, a technique that would satisfy. He was gagging, drowning in her, but he drove his face deeper, sucking and tasting, his nose pressed into her coarse hair.
Sharmin groaned above him, a sound of dark pleasure. “Good. Like that. Use your tongue on my clit. Harder.”
He obeyed. He serviced her with a furious, focused despair, the pleasure he gave her a currency to buy a sliver of mercy for Kate.
Against the wall, the scene was a brutal painting. Kofi hammered into Kate’s ass with a deep, grinding rhythm. The initial resistance had given way to a terrible, forced accommodation. Her body had to accept him. Her cries had softened from pain to a continuous, low weeping. Her hands slid down the wet wood, then fisted again, her knuckles white. Her hips began to move, a tiny, involuntary rocking back onto his thrusts.
“Feel that?” Kofi panted into her ear, his hand still clamped over her mouth. “Your body knows its master. It’s opening for me. Taking my cock like it was made for it.” He bit her shoulder, a sharp, possessive claim. One hand snaked around her hip, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing rough, relentless circles.
Her weeping took on a new pitch, a confusion of torment and building, shameful sensation. The dual assault—the brutal fullness in her ass, the insistent torture on her clit—was pushing her toward a cliff.
Rick heard the change in her muffled cries. It fueled him. He devoured Sharmin, his jaw aching, his tongue numb. He wanted to give Sharmin her pleasure, to keep her focused on him, to buy Kate whatever shred of dignity or escape he could. He fucked her with his mouth, his nose buried deep, inhaling her scent until it was the only thing in the universe.
Sharmin’s thighs tightened around his head. Her hands gripped his hair, pulling hard. “Yes… right there, you fucking whore. Make me come.”
Against the wall, Kofi’s movements became jagged, urgent. “Come on my cock,” he snarled at Kate, his fingers a vise on her clit. “Come while I wreck your ass. Show your husband what a real fucking feels like.”
The orgasm that took Kate was a convulsion of violence and shame. It ripped through her, making her back arch and her internal muscles clamp down on Kofi’s invading length. She screamed into his hand, the sound finally breaking free, raw and shattered.
Feeling her climax, Kofi drove into her one last, crushing time and let out a guttural roar as he emptied himself inside her. He held there, pulsing, his body locked against hers.
The trigger of their combined climax sent Sharmin over the edge. She ground her cunt against Rick’s face, riding out her pleasure with sharp, panting cries, her juices mixing with the shower water streaming into his mouth and nose.
Then, stillness.
The only sounds were the relentless fall of water and the ragged, tortured gasps for air from all four of them.
Kofi pulled out of Kate slowly. She slumped against the wall, held up only by his hand and her own weak grip. He turned her around. Her face was a mask of water and tears and utter devastation. He kissed her, hard, a claiming of her mouth that tasted of her own salt. Then he let her go. She slid down the wall into a kneeling position, her forehead resting against the wood.
Sharmin lifted herself off Rick’s face. He collapsed sideways into the water, coughing, sputtering, drawing in huge, choking breaths of clean, damp air. He crawled towards Kate, a sodden, broken creature.
Kofi stepped out of the shower, retrieving his towel. He looked back at them, a king surveying a conquered field. “Clean them up,” he said to Sharmin, his voice calm, spent. “Put them in the side room. No speaking. They sleep on the floor.”
Sharmin nodded, her own breath slowing. She turned the shower to cold.
The icy blast was a final, shocking cruelty. It shocked a sob from Kate and a yelp from Rick. It washed away the heat, the sweat, the visible evidence of what had just occurred. But it couldn’t touch the marks beneath the skin, the fractures in their souls.
Shivering, naked, and utterly hollow, they were led, dripping and silent, into the dark house. The soft, luxurious carpets felt like ashes under their feet. A door was opened to a small, plain room with a single mat on the floor and two thin blankets.
The door closed behind them. A lock clicked.
In the dark, on the hard floor, they huddled together for warmth. Their bodies touched, skin to skin, but a vast, silent ocean stretched between them. The only truth left was the sound of their own breathing, and the deep, knowing ache in their bodies, a map of their submission drawn in pain and salt water.
The chill of the tiles seeped into their bones long after the shivering stopped. They lay tangled, not in intimacy, but in the raw need for animal warmth, the thin blankets useless against the deep cold settling inside them. Dawn eventually leaked through a high, small window, painting a pale square on the opposite wall.
A key turned in the lock.
The door opened to reveal Sharmin, already dressed in a simple, elegant silk wrap. She carried a tray. “Sit up.”
They obeyed, muscles screaming. She placed the tray between them—a pitcher of water, two plain porcelain bowls of oatmeal, no utensils. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.” Her tone was pragmatic, as if addressing livestock. She left, locking the door again.
They ate with their hands, the bland mush a mere fuel. Rick’s gaze kept flicking to the darkening bruises on Kate’s hips, the raw red marks on her wrists. She saw the haunted emptiness in his eyes, the swollen line of his mouth. No words came. Every possible sentence felt like a betrayal of what had been done, or a lie about what they felt.
The door reopened an hour later. Kofi stood there, filling the frame. “Out.”
They stood on wobbly legs, letting the blankets fall. Nakedness was their uniform now, their only adornment the marks left by their masters. He led them through the quiet house to a sun-drenched room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A low, wide divan dominated the space. Sharmin was there, sipping tea.
“Today is about observation,” Kofi said, leaning against the window frame. “And utility. Pet, come here.”
Kate walked to him, the click of her heels the only sound.
He cupped her chin, tilting her face to the light. “You have a resilient body. Good. But your mind is still cluttered with ego.” He released her. “Lie on the divan. On your back. Legs open.”
She did so, the smooth fabric cool against her skin. The position was one of utter exposure.
“Thing,” Kofi said, not looking at Rick. “Stand at her head. Look down at her. See what belongs to us.”
Rick moved into place. From this angle, he saw everything: the pale vulnerability of her inner thighs, the shadows of her sex, the slight tremble in her abdomen. It was a view both intimately familiar and now alien, branded by the memory of Kofi’s possession.
“Sharmin,” Kofi said.
Sharmin set her tea aside. She approached the divan, her movements liquid. She stood beside Kate, looking down at her with a cool, appraising gaze. Then she untied her silk wrap. It whispered to the floor. She was bare beneath.
“You have a skilled tongue, Thing,” Sharmin said, her eyes on Kate’s face. “But your Pet has never used hers in true service. Only in play.” She placed a knee on the divan beside Kate’s hip. “Today, she learns.”
Sharmin lowered herself, straddling Kate’s face. She settled her weight, her thighs framing Kate’s temples. “Open your mouth, Pet.”
Kate’s eyes, wide and terrified, found Rick’s for a fleeting second. Then she obeyed, her lips parting. Sharmin settled downward, until the coarse, dark hair of her pubis brushed Kate’s lips, and the wet, intimate heat of her pressed against Kate’s mouth.
“Lick,” Sharmin commanded softly. “Clean me. Show your husband how a devoted slut earns her keep.”
Kate’s tongue emerged, a tentative pink swipe. She touched Sharmin’s folds. The taste was foreign, musky, powerfully female.
“More,” Sharmin sighed, shifting her hips. “Use the flat of your tongue. Don’t be shy.”
Kofi watched, a faint smile on his lips. He walked to Rick, standing beside him. “Watch her,” he murmured, his voice for Rick alone. “See how her jaw works. See the confusion in her eyes. She’s realizing she can find pleasure in this degradation. That’s the sweetest crack in the armor.”
Rick watched, hypnotized by the obscene tableau. Kate’s initial reluctance was melting under Sharmin’s directives and subtle, grinding movements. Her tongue moved with more purpose, lapping at the swollen lips, probing deeper. A soft, muffled moan vibrated from Sharmin’s throat.
“She’s a natural cunt-licker,” Sharmin panted, her head tilting back. “Aren’t you, Pet? You love the taste of a real woman. Not your husband’s play-acting.”
Kate’s hands, which had lain stiff at her sides, crept up. They hovered, unsure, then grasped Sharmin’s thighs, holding her in place as she ate her with increasing fervor. The sounds were wet, sloppy, animalistic.
“Good girl,” Sharmin cooed. “Now make me come. Use your tongue on my clit. Fast.”
Kate obeyed, her head bobbing with desperate energy. Sharmin’s breath hitched. Her hands clenched in Kate’s hair, guiding the rhythm. “Yes… just like that… fuck yes…”
Sharmin’s climax was a tight, shuddering release. She ground herself fiercely against Kate’s mouth, a low cry escaping her as she soaked Kate’s chin and throat. She collapsed forward, then slowly, luxuriously, lifted herself off.
Kate lay gasping, her lips glistening, her face flushed with exertion and shame. She wouldn’t look at Rick.
Sharmin stood, retrieved her wrap. “Adequate,” she said to Kate. “For a first time.” She turned to Kofi. “Your turn.”
Kofi approached the divan. He was already hard. He looked at Rick. “You watched. Did it arouse you? Seeing your wife service a woman?”
Rick’s own cock, traitorously stiff, was answer enough.
“I thought so.” Kofi positioned himself at Kate’s hips. “Hold her legs open for me.”
Rick moved, numbly taking Kate’s ankles in his hands, spreading her wide. The intimacy of the act—assisting in her violation—sent a jolt of electric shame through him.
Kofi didn’t enter her. Instead, he spat into his palm, rubbed his cock, and then pressed the broad head against her asshole. The memory of the previous night’s violence was visible in the flinch that wracked her entire body.
“This is going to be your daily hole,” Kofi stated, applying pressure. “We’ll train it. Loosen it. Until you can take me without a sound.” He pushed, just an inch, making her gasp. “But for now…” He pulled back, shifted, and in one smooth, brutal motion, sank his full length into her pussy instead.
This penetration was easier, but no less dominating. He fucked her with deep, measured strokes, his eyes locked on Rick’s. “This is where you come from, Thing. This is the cunt you came out of. And now it’s mine. Say it.”
Rick’s voice was a rasp. “It’s yours, Sir.”
“Louder.”
“It’s yours, Sir!” Rick shouted, the words tearing from him.
Kofi’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming punishing. Kate’s body jolted with each one. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but a low, broken sound came from her throat with every impact. It wasn’t a scream. It was a rhythmic, desperate exhalation that edged toward something else.
“She’s going to come again,” Kofi grunted, his control fraying. “Aren’t you, Pet? You’re going to come on the cock that just watched your husband suck. You’re that far gone.”
And she did. A sharp, ragged cry escaped her as her body convulsed, her inner muscles clamping around Kofi’s shaft in a pulsating grip. The orgasm seemed ripped from her, a physical surrender that broke something final in her spirit.
Kofi followed, driving deep, his own release a hot flood inside her. He stayed buried for a moment, then pulled out. He turned to Rick, who still clutched Kate’s ankles.
“Your turn,” Kofi said, his breath heavy. “Fuck your wife’s well-used cunt. Claim what’s left.”
He didn’t need to say it twice. A feral need overpowered Rick. He scrambled into position, his own arousal a painful throb. He shoved himself into Kate’s slick, ravaged warmth. It was a frantic, graceless coupling. He fucked her with short, desperate thrusts, his face buried in her neck.
She was unresponsive beneath him, a used vessel. But he came quickly, a sharp, anguished spasm that left him empty. He collapsed on her, his weight pinning her to the divan.
A long silence filled the room, broken only by their ragged breathing.
Sharmin’s voice, crisp and clear, cut through it. “Up. Both of you.”
They disentangled, standing on trembling legs. Cum and spit slicked their thighs.
Sharmin tossed two rough, grey rags at their feet. “Clean yourselves. Then clean the divan. Use your tongues if you need to.” She gestured to a small, tiled alcove off the main room. “There is a bucket and brush. You will scrub this floor when you’re done. On your hands and knees. Like the animals you are.”
The rags were coarse, like burlap. They wiped themselves mechanically, the fabric scraping their sensitive skin. Kate knelt first, running the cloth over the leather where their fluids had pooled. Rick joined her, their movements silent and synchronized in this new, menial humiliation. The taste of Sharmin was still on Kate’s lips; the ache of Kofi was deep in her core.
When the divan was passable, they crawled to the alcove. The bucket was filled with cold, soapy water. The brush’s bristles were stiff. They worked side-by-side, scrubbing the already-clean tiles, the physical labor a bizarre relief from the psychological dismantling. The brush handles bruised their palms. Water soaked their knees.
Kofi and Sharmin observed from the doorway for a few minutes, speaking softly to each other in a language Kate and Rick didn’t understand. Then they left. The door didn’t lock this time. It was an open door. A test.
They scrubbed until their knees were raw and the water was grey. They emptied the bucket, refilled it, scrubbed again. The work was mindless, punishing, a penance with no defined sin. The sun climbed higher, baking the room.
“Stop.” Sharmin’s voice came from behind them. She carried a tray with two glasses of chilled coconut water. “Drink. In the garden. Now.”
The garden was a blistering rectangle of green and color. A stone path led to a shaded pergola draped in purple bougainvillea. Kofi was there, reclining on a lounge chair, reading a tablet. He didn’t look up as they approached, barefoot on the hot flagstones.
“Sit,” Sharmin said, pointing to the ground at the foot of Kofi’s chair. “Not on the furniture. On the earth.”
The dirt was dry and packed, scattered with tiny pebbles. They sat, legs folded, the cool glasses trembling in their hands. They drank greedily. The sweet liquid was a miracle.
“You’re wondering about the rules,” Kofi said, still not looking up from his screen. His voice was conversational. “The structure. You’re writers. You need a plot.” He set the tablet down, finally fixing them with his gaze. “The plot is simple. You exist for our use and our amusement. Sometimes that use is sexual. Sometimes it is labor. Sometimes it is simply to be present, as decoration. Or as a lesson for the other.”
He took a sip from his own glass. “You have no privacy. You have no schedule. You speak only to us, and only when spoken to. You will learn to anticipate needs. You will learn to find pleasure in service, even in degradation. That is the entire story.”
A long, heavy silence followed, filled only with the buzz of insects and the distant hum of the city.
“You broke her ass last night,” Sharmin said to Kofi, as if discussing the weather. “She’ll need time to heal before you can properly train it.”
“I know,” Kofi replied. He looked at Rick. “His, however, is more resilient. He took it well. He came on it.” A faint, approving smirk. “We’ll work on his depth today. Stretch him. Prepare him for a proper fucking tomorrow.”
Rick’s stomach clenched. The memory was a physical wound. He stared at the dirt between his feet.
“Look at me, Thing,” Kofi said.
Rick lifted his head.
“You will service my wife this afternoon. Fully. You will make her come with your mouth, your fingers, and your cock. In that order. You will do it while your Pet watches and learns how a man should please a woman. Do you understand the assignment?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” Kofi stood, stretching. “The heat is oppressive. We’ll go inside. To the blue room.”
The blue room was a den, cool and dim, its walls covered in woven indigo textiles. Large floor cushions were scattered around a low central table. The air smelled of incense and leather.
“On the cushions,” Sharmin instructed Rick. She had shed her wrap again. She stood before him, hands on her hips. “Lie back.”
He obeyed, reclining against the deep cushions. His heart hammered against his ribs.
“Pet, sit there.” Sharmin pointed to a cushion near Rick’s head. “Watch his face. See what real desire looks like.”
Kate sat, drawing her knees to her chest, making herself small.
Sharmin knelt over Rick, one knee on either side of his hips. She didn’t touch him yet. She simply looked down at him, her dark eyes gleaming in the filtered light. “Your mouth first. Show me you remember the technique from the shower.”
She lowered herself, positioning her cunt directly over his face. He didn’t wait for the command. He lifted his head, his tongue finding her immediately. He licked a broad, slow stripe from her opening to her clit. She was already wet, her flavor deep and musky. He dove in, his hands coming up to grip her thighs, holding her in place as he feasted on her.
“Yes,” she hissed, her hips rolling in a slow grind against his mouth. “Use the tip of your tongue. Right there. Circle it.”
He obeyed, focusing on her engorged clit, flicking and circling with a precision born of desperate obedience. Her breaths became shallow pants. Her fingers tangled in his hair, not guiding now, just clutching. “Fuck, your tongue is talented,” she muttered. “Such a good little cocksucker and cunt-licker. A versatile toy.”
He redoubled his efforts, slurping and sucking, swallowing her tangy essence. Her thighs began to tremble. A high, thin whine escaped her. “I’m gonna come. Don’t you dare stop.”
Her orgasm crashed over her. She ground her pussy down hard onto his mouth, her whole body seizing as she cried out, a raw, unfiltered sound of pleasure. Juice flooded his mouth and he drank it down, his own cock throbbing painfully against his stomach.
She slid off him, panting. “Good. Now, your fingers.” She lay back on the cushions beside him, spreading her legs. “Two. Make me come again.”
His hand was slick with her wetness and his own saliva. He pushed two fingers inside her without hesitation. She was tight, hot, pulsating from her first climax. He curled them, searching. Her back arched. “There. That spot. Rub it. Firm.”
He set a rhythm, pumping his fingers in and out, his palm grinding against her clit with each thrust. It was a crude, physical motion. She matched his rhythm, her hips rising off the cushion to meet his hand. “Faster,” she demanded, her voice guttural.
He obeyed, his wrist aching. Her internal muscles clamped around his fingers like a vise. She came again, a sharper, deeper climax that left her gasping, her body taut as a bowstring before collapsing.
“Now,” she panted, rolling onto her side to face him. Her eyes were dark with want. “Your cock. I want to ride you. I want to watch your face while I milk you dry.”
She pushed him onto his back again and straddled him. She took his length in her hand, guiding him to her entrance. She sank down onto him in one smooth, devastating slide, sheathing him completely in her slick, gripping heat.
“Oh god,” Rick choked out. The sensation was overwhelming. After being used and denied, to be engulfed by such purposeful, dominant warmth was a form of torture.
“Watch him, Pet,” Sharmin said, her gaze locked on Rick’s face as she began to move. She rode him with a powerful, undulating rhythm, rising until just the head remained inside, then slamming back down. “See how his eyes roll back? See how he bites his lip? This is a man unmaking himself inside a woman. This is the truth of him.”
Kate watched, her own breath coming in short bursts. She saw the agony of ecstasy on Rick’s face, the way his hands gripped Sharmin’s hips not to control her, but to anchor himself as she destroyed him.
Sharmin’s pace quickened, becoming frenzied. “You’re going to come for me, Thing. You’re going to fill my cunt with your pathetic little come. And you’re going to thank me for it.”
She leaned forward, her breasts hovering over his mouth. “Suck them.”
He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. She moaned, her rhythm becoming erratic. “Now. Come now.”
It was an order he couldn’t resist. With a broken cry, he erupted inside her, his hips bucking off the cushion as he pulsed deep into her core. The orgasm was a seizure, violent and total.
She milked him through every spasm, then slowly, still pulsating around him, lifted herself off. She stood, his spend already beginning to trickle down her inner thigh. She looked at Kofi, who had been watching quietly from a deep armchair.
“Well-trained,” Sharmin said, her voice regaining its composure. “Eager to please. A quick study.”
Kofi nodded. He looked at Kate. “Your lesson, Pet? Did you learn?”
Kate’s voice was a ghost of sound. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“What did you learn?”
She swallowed, her eyes still on Rick’s spent, shuddering form. “I learned… that his pleasure is a gift you allow. That it belongs to you.”
“Good,” Kofi said. He stood. “Now, come here, Pet. It’s your turn to demonstrate what you’ve learned. On your knees. Show your husband how a grateful pet thanks her master.”
Kate moved to the space before Kofi’s chair. She knelt, her head bowed. He unzipped his trousers, freeing his semi-hard cock. He placed a hand on her head.
“Service me,” he said.
She leaned forward, taking him into her mouth without hesitation, using her tongue in the ways she had just witnessed. She worked him to full hardness, then beyond, her movements diligent, subservient. Rick watched, exhausted, hollow, as his wife swallowed another man’s cock with a proficiency that carved a new chamber of loss inside him.
Kofi came in her mouth, and she swallowed it all. When he released her head, she stayed kneeling, awaiting the next command.
The command didn’t come. Kofi simply zipped his trousers. “The day’s training is complete. You will be fed. Then you will sleep. Tomorrow begins earlier. Tomorrow, we work on Thing’s ass. And Pet, we begin your anal training in earnest. You will learn to take him like you took me.”
He walked to the door. “The plot,” he said, pausing, “thickens.”
He and Sharmin left. The door remained open.
In the blue, darkening room, Kate finally crawled to where Rick lay. She didn’t embrace him. She simply lay beside him on the cushions, their bodies not touching, two separate ruins in the gathering dusk. The only sound was the slow, broken rhythm of their breathing, syncopating in the dark.