Wanna Bet? 2: Higher Stakes - Sex Stories

Wanna Bet? 2: Higher Stakes

... clean. I took a couple minutes to meet that minimum standard, and then listened to music until I heard the vacuum. Then I went downstairs to watch. Faith was still dressed in her tights, although she’d changed into a lighter sweater. “You forgot something,” I said. She looked down at the carpet. “What?” I pointed to her tights. “We’re home now,” I said. She looked down at her legs. “Oh, right, sorry.” “Sorry what?” “Sorry, Master. I’ll take them off.” I shook my head. “Allow me.” It was a pleasure to peel down the tights from behind, revealing her ass beneath her skirt, with only a pink thong covering it. Of course, that had to go too. Rule were rules. Once she was properly attired, with nothing under her skirt, I copped a feel then went to sit on the couch. “You can resume.” Watching her vacuum, with her ass and cunt becoming visible every time she leaned or bent over, was quite a treat. A sex slave might as well do other chores, too. She was aware of my gaze and I’m pretty sure she played to it, bending over all the way when she didn’t need to and shaking her rear a little. Finally, she said, “I think I’m done then.” I stood up, then looked at the carpet, as though inspecting her work. “Looks good.” I pulled her to me, then, so she could feel my erection underneath my clothes against her. “So, did you have fun today?” I asked softly. “Yes, master,” she said. “Thank you.” I had the feeling that she wanted to say more. “But?” “Did you have to feel me up in that coffee ...

... place? And with Mom on the phone?” “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Didn’t you like it?” “Yes, but… we could have gotten caught.” My hand drifted down to her pussy, brushing against the slit. “A little risk is always fun, though, right? Spices things up. I know you get turned on when there’s a chance, just a chance, we might get caught.” “Sometimes,” she admitted, her face flushing. “Good.” I kissed her softly, let my fingers enter her. I felt how wet she was, and that’s what made me decide the time was right. I pulled back suddenly, as though just thinking of something. “You are still taking your pills, right?” “Of course,” she said firmly. Bad sign. “Can I see?” She slowly went to her room and came back a minute later with a small circular case of pills. She handed it to me. “Don’t you trust me?” she asked. “One abortion was icky enough. Trust me, I don’t want to have another.” “I do trust you,” I said. “And I probably want to avoid one more than you.” I took a breath, hoping it wasn’t too soon. “But you remember when I asked you to shave? You agreed your body belongs to me.” I paused, just a second, and said, “Now I want you to flush these pills down the toilet. I don’t want you taking them, or anything like it.” She stared at me, uncomprehending, as though I’d just slapped her across the face without warning and she couldn’t figure out why. “But…” “Shh,” I said. “No buts. A little risk is a good thing, remember?” I felt I was losing her. “Trust me. I love you, and I’ll be ...