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7. Breakfast
Sarah gulped and summoned her smile to answer the door. In the monitor she saw four large men, the smallest as big as Joe, holding big insulated bags. She gently opened the heavy oak door, peeked around the edge with her body hidden behind and pointed to the coffee table. “Right over there, boys,” she giggled sweetly.
The youngest of the group grumbled to the man in front of him in a “street” accent, “Bitch called us boys?”
Sarah groaned inside, her new name for the weekend was ‘bitch,’ apparently.
The men checked her out, smiled looking her up and down as they walked toward the table, no longer looking where they were going. "Hey little lady, you are lookin’ f-i-n-e!" said the second man. The senior of the group told the rest to calm down, "Two hundred, before they get too excited." He had seen attention whores before; they just slowed down deliveries and dented his profits.
Sarah blushed. "Um, yea, well, you see, I don’t have any cash, and . . ."
The youngest, who must have been at least 6’ 6”, grabbed Sarah by the wig and yanked her against the wall shouting, "I took the order, bitch, you said motha fuckin’ cash!"
Sarah yelped in fear, "I know, I know, but I don’t have it, I’ll do anything, I swear, anything without marks!"
The young man licked her face and groped her exposed breasts; her already erect nipples became rock hard. "Oh yea, lilly-white bitch, you sure will."
The eldest of the group walked over and grabbed the young man’s arm. His speech changed dramatically. "You Nigga’s been tellin’ stories of yo’ buddies about finding rich white bitches like this for a while. How much you got?"
The young man looked puzzled, one of the other two said, "seven-five" and the other said the same. The boss shoved the younger one and said again, "how much?"
"I got about that, or can get it."
The older man laughed, "I ain’t been a pimp since I was a boy, I still need two hundred for all this,” he said looking straight at the young man. "Give it up, but the King go first. Gots yo’ camera?"
The young one pulled a small video camera from his leather jacket and showed it off with a smile as the workers surrendered their money to the older man. The boss grabbed Sarah roughly by the arm, unbuckled his pants on the way to the loveseat, and shoved her to her knees. She pulled down his pants and boxers as he sat; his giant ass sank into the white leather as she got her 'high class escort' role going in her mind. His belly sagged and he was already hard, much bigger than she expected for a man of his age and weight.
"Fi’m it porn style, Leo! Bitch, you act porn style too. Leo, that motha’ fucka’ got sound?"
"Yea man."
"Yes, Master, please fill my white ho mouth with your royal cum," Sarah begged, hoping to get them aroused enough to get things over with quickly.
"Maurice, get in back, take a hole. We not messin’ here all motha’ fuckin’ day."
The youngest recorded the hour-long performance of his three coworkers, and the boss took the camera when it was the young man’s turn. He turned out to be the most romantic of the bunch, getting naked and making Sarah lay on her back on the sofa as he fucked her missionary style. Perhaps he forgot that her mouth had just taken a load of the boss' cum, maybe he couldn’t resist kissing her, but he made passionate love to the “rich white bitch” on her sofa. She played up a hot, romantic scene with him, moaning as if she loved it, but nothing she did dented his stamina. He felt like he could go on forever.
When they finished, Sarah was weak and panting, like she was after her first time with Joe the night before. She could feel the cum running from her pussy and onto her expensive sofa cushion. At least none of them took her ass, that would be a stain requiring new furniture. She rolled over onto her side, rubbed her left leg over the right, and thanked the men with a sweet smile.
The boss approached her, his ‘reasonable’ demeanor had changed, he grabbed her wig and barked, "Bitch, I still need two hunna’ from you."
Sarah became terrified, "Sir, I don’t have it, I swear! I’ll do you all again if you want, anything . . ."
"Anything? Gets yo' fur coat, you gonna make us some motha' fuckin' cash."
Joe did not need to hear his name from Sarah, that was enough. He walked out of the kitchen, into the living room, his Colt 1911 at the ready, and said, “Boys, that’s enough. She doesn’t go anywhere. Give her the memory card from the camera. Now.” He pointed the pistol straight at the boss.
"Gentlemen, there seems to be a misunderstanding. Give the lady the card and let us depart," he said as the youngest complied. Sarah took the card and ran behind Joe, shaking and hugging him, and then the men quietly left.
"Thank you Sir," she sobbed. A moment later, she wondered why she was thanking him as she looked at the soiled white living room and thought about what she had done. Somehow, what she had done with the men was the least of it. She had done scenes like that plenty of times, but it was a lover that she selected who directed the action, with trusted guests of the Dominant. He walked her back into the kitchen and guided her onto the tall chair. She felt a wave of confusion pass over her, being able to sit in The Woman’s Chair, as it was known in her household.
"Ready to take a rest, bitch?" Joe asked, not expecting an answer.
"Yes Sir Joe, thank you for giving me an opportunity to rest," she said as he took the memory card from her hand.
As soon as she relaxed, she heard the familiar sound of duct tape and Joe wrapped it around her heaving breasts and upper arms, taping her to the chair. He wrapped a few layers around her mouth, then her forearms were taped to the chair arms, and lastly, he taped her legs together. As he tore the tape off after wrapping Sarah’s thighs together, he said, "That must be the only way to keep your slut knees together, right bitch?" Sarah stared at him for a second and nodded yes, interrupting her thought of another pair of $50 stockings ruined. As soon as she was taped to her ‘throne,’ Nancy entered with Edward, still wearing her bra and panties, she wore only her satin blouse and heels from yesterday.
"Eddie, Pet, be a dear and clear the table, bring in the breakfast."
"Yes Misses Clarke."
"Eddie, what did I say before we came down?"
"Oh, sorry, Ma'am." He walked to his wife and kissed her taped mouth. "Good morning, Princess." Her eyes grew wide. That was an honorific she hated and never wanted anybody to call her, especially him. He then turned to Joe and said, "Thank you for allowing me to watch the show, Sir Joe. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Joe stood silently, leaving his duster on the chair and bringing his now growing cock close to Sarah’s hand. "Guide me into princess bitch’s hand."
Sarah sighed through her nose, relieved that they were not going to make Edward hurt her. The confusing signals scrambled her head. A secure taping to a chair was no big deal, until it dawned on her that they were humiliating her in her own house, in a room she never allowed play in before, especially treating her this way in this chair. Somehow, Nancy taking over her husband was moving from the bottom to the top of the list. Her bubble of emotional protection exploded and she started to cry in humiliation as she gently jerked Joe off until he shot another morning load of cum, all over her corset, face, and the chair. Nancy took the liberty to clean Joe as she fondled Sarah’s helpless legs, trying to reach a bony finger between Sarah’s thighs to touch her cum-soaked panties. It did not work. Edward continued prancing between the living room and kitchen arranging the breakfast, his cock visibly hard again in Nancy’s lace panties.
After cleaning Joe, Nancy spit mixture of her saliva and Joe’s ejaculate into Sarah’s face. “So, Princess, nice throne you have here! You get to preside over the breakfast feast!” With that, the group sat down to eat. Nancy directed Edward to prepare a plate for Sarah first. "The Princess is always served first, Edward."
"Yes Misses Clarke," he said with a smile. Then he prepared a plate for Joe, as Joe directed, then one for Nancy and last, his own with the identical items and portions that Nancy had on hers.
Joe looked at Sarah’s plate, and then looked back at the rest of the food on the table. "It’s wrong to waste all of this food. There are children starving in DC! Bitch, put the rest on princess bitch’s plate. She doesn’t look like she appreciates the breakfast I selected for us."
Edward sensed trouble and followed Joe’s orders. Maybe he was just confused and this was what it was like in a scene. He wondered what was going on, there was no way Sarah could eat with her mouth taped. It must be part of the game and he began feeling grateful that did not treat him like her. He remembered from years ago, Sarah let him watch a session of hers on a monitor where she was brutalized and was sore for a week. She had to wear long sleeves and knee high boots for days to hide all of the bruises. It seemed horrible, she cried a lot more that time than she cried since the Nancy arrived and still smiled afterwards. He completed his duties and finished his breakfast with the others.
"Master, princess bitch still hasn’t touched a thing," Nancy said to Joe, shaking her head.
"So I see . . ."
Sarah began to figure out the setup again, or so she thought. This was a level of mental torture play she never agreed to with anybody before. She tried to anticipate what was coming, waived her hands in protest, and then tried to call out.
At Joe’s nod, Nancy went to the knife block and selected a small, sharp blade. Sarah could hear her heels click on the tile as Nancy approached her from the back. With a muffled shriek, Nancy jerked Sarah’s back, her neck pivoting against the top of the chair. "Part your lips, princess, we all know you can do that. I don’t want to cut them and displease my Master."
Sarah was lost again, but she complied as tears ran down her makeup-smeared face. Nancy carefully cut a slit through the tape, between Sarah’s lips. Joe asked Sarah if she was cut and she shook her head sobbing, "No, Sir Joe."
He patted Nancy’s ass as a reward, then called to Ed, "Bitch, feed the princess."
"Yes Sir Joe," Edward answered and approached Sarah’s side.
Nancy handed him a big spoon, and then, with Sarah’s knife and fork, began cutting up the meats on the plate. "Eddie, Pet, nothing that I haven’t cut up for the princess. We don’t want her choking."
Sarah finally came out of her surprise enough to protest again. "I can’t eat that much! That is much too much food!"
Joe had had enough of Sarah’s complaining and pulled a small black device from his pocket. He slid a switch on the side with his thumb, revealing a red dot, and then pressed the green dot on the front. Sarah jerked and yelped as the electric shock jolted her throat. When she relaxed, Joe did it again; she jerked, yelped, peed on her chair, and began to cry harder.
"Feed her, bitch, every scrap."
Edward began to feed her as gently as possible, making sure she swallowed before presenting another spoonful. The mashed potatoes where now mixed in with the green beans and eggs. Sausage, bacon, and ham were jumbled together. As Nancy finished her last cuts, she cautioned Edward. “No large pieces, we do not want princess choking,” she laughed and left the kitchen with Joe.
"Every fucking scrap." Joe said as he reached the stairs.
They heard what sounded like Nancy going out the front door and Joe’s heavy walk going up the steps. Nancy returned and went upstairs to join Joe as Edward dutifully stuffed The Woman of the House. When he paused, Sarah panted, "I’m okay, I’m okay, just get it over with. They aren’t messing around, they’ll hurt us. Try to go faster."
Edward remembered what he had seen in the video upstairs and silently resumed feeding her. One hour later, they were not done and Sarah was groaning from the pain in her stomach. Joe called for Edward as Nancy returned to the kitchen wearing a tight red leather jacket and skirt, sheer red stockings and red pumps, heavier makeup than she usually wore to work. In a matter-of-fact tone, she leaned to Sarah’s ear and said, "Misses Kneeler, this kitchen is a fucking mess, and you left more than half of your breakfast uneaten. You never leave it like this before leaving the house, do you? Are you always so wasteful?"
Sarah’s aching, straining belly wanted to erupt as she answered, "No, no Misses Clarke, my home is never left like this, and we never waste things."
"Well, your husband is a little busy and you have an appointment with my seamstress soon."
"Misses Clarke, can you release me so I can clean up?" Sarah could not believe she was asking her secretary and tormentor a question like that, in that way, as if this was a roleplay session with one of her regular couples.
As soon as Sarah asked properly, Nancy began cutting the tape. Without hesitation, Sarah packed the remaining food into one of the boxes and placed it in the refrigerator; she wiped the table, mopped her chair, and then wiped them all down. She was moving like a whirlwind in tall satin pumps, ruined from her own urine that leaked onto them. She took the remaining delivery boxes to the garage and was shocked that the garage door was open; the cans were at the curb. Nancy followed her and whispered, "Do you really think the neighbors are unaware of what goes on here?" Sarah gulped, thinking that they really did not, and then walked smartly in her soiled outfit to deposit the boxes. She returned to clean the living room, thinking some of these stains may never come out. She surprised herself with how well she cleaned the leather sofa cushions, even the brown streak the biggest man left on the loveseat came out.
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