Chapter 14

Frieda's sordid tale was less of a surprise than one might expect, since the AIs had already pieced some of it together, anyway. Afterwards, I understood how her head was wired -- and how she could kid herself that getting Beth molested or even raped by a pair of sharks was for her own good. Interesting to me was the fact that she held no grudge against her 'uncle'; he was a victim of her stepfather's coercion as much as she was, in her mind -- and maybe she was right...

Breakfast was fast and furious -- and the uniform of the day was nudity, for the women. Nobody complained. I mentioned to Vera that she should get one of those big bib barbeque aprons, as nobody wants to see anyone get burned. Cooking, to my mind, isn't a display activity -- although serving is. Oliver would have no habits regarding this, but I've had concubines for a couple of years and running my hand up my waitress's inner thigh or pulling her into my lap to kiss or play with her breasts is habit with me. I surprised Beth in that regard when she delivered my coffee, but she put up with it.

Frieda's attitude was the complete opposite of the one displayed during our dinner at Ray's (before the terrible twins attacked, anyway). She was more than happy to be anywhere and do anything if it would make me happy. Beth noticed, and I think it worried her.

In the end, I put the whole thing behind me rather quickly -- I had another long day ahead of me. I told the girls that Friday would be their last day at work and that they should carry on as though nothing unusual was happening -- but make whatever preparations they though wise. Then I went out to my car and made tracks for Seifort.

Student indoctrinations went on all day in the gym and they were tough; we started with Seniors, because they were most likely to be a problem. Attendance tracking had to be rock solid, since any student who slipped the net was a potential disaster. As a result, despite the fact that the students were presented hypnotically with a memory of a pep-talk about the very special presentation their class was going to be delivering for Family Day, the vast majority of the time spent in the gym was spent counting noses. We were limited to thirty minutes per grade; things got easier as the day went on and we worked our way down from high school through middle school to the elementary school classes. When it was over, everyone knew that something big was up and every student was primed with reasons for their parents to be on hand for the big day. The high school students got the full explanation, in brief -- and some latitude in organizing themselves for pickup -- such things as inviting girlfriends and boyfriends from outside the school and creating pre-packs were discussed. Secrecy in the face of troublesome truants was a big issue, but thankfully there were only a dozen or so of those. We actually managed to dispatch a few students to discover whether their missing friends were really ill or just cutting classes -- and in the late afternoon and early evening I helped round up four of them myself.

Students had been provided handouts to take home on Wednesday. Where it appeared that those handouts had not made it into their parent's hands, they were reissued with an injunction to make it happen. In addition to this, Dean Atkinson hired a 'phone blast' company to deliver a recorded message to every parent's contact number enjoining them to make every effort to attend a 'watershed event in the history of Seifort Academy -- not just another Family Day.' Naturally, the office staff was inundated with return calls...

Dean Atkinson's wife Shelley came in to assist; I saw to her conditioning myself at Dr. Atkinson's request when he told me that he intended to take her with him. "We haven't been able to have children," he confided, "even though neither of us is totally sterile. I'm counting upon Confederacy medicine to fix the problem." I had a crewman ferry Dr. Atkinson to the Valhalla for a medical exam, then did the same for Shelley -- a nice-looking, narrow, almost-forty brunette trophy type -- and the AI told me after both exams that it was a minor ph issue in their secretions that was easily fixed. Dr. Atkinson presented his case to his wife, accepted her submission, and put a happy concubine to work on the phones.

The only fly in the ointment was some friction between Shelley and Susan Bowman, the Dean's assistant. Shelley assumed -- correctly, as it turned out -- that Susan had plans for her husband-turned-master, and she wasn't thrilled. I watched the pair of them show their fangs at each other on several occasions before Susan brought things to a head by approaching Dr. Atkinson, kneeling in her skirt and blouse, and announcing, "Charles, I'm petitioning for the right to occupy your other concubine position."

Dr. Atkinson was still absorbing this when Shelley surged up out of her chair and dashed across the room shouting, "No! I forbid it! You stay away from my... my Master, you bitch!"

'Uh oh...' I thought. The good doctor was caught flat-footed -- and there was about to be a cat-fight... I threw myself into the breach, "Shelley! Shut up -- NOW! YOU have no right to forbid Charles ANYTHING any more!" I turned to Dr. Atkinson, "And YOU need to remember that!" Turning back to Shelley, I interposed myself between her and Susan and said, "Besides, what do you have against Susan, anyway?"

"They're sleeping together!" Shelley flared, then dropped her eyes, "I think..."

"Shelley!" Charles erupted, "That's preposterous!"

"Is it?" Shelley countered. "You were VERY late Tuesday evening..."

"I happen to know EXACTLY where Charles was on Tuesday evening, Shelley," I chided her, "and while Susan was there, so were a dozen other people -- until well after midnight. We were dining -- and planning this..." I waved a hand.

"Well..." Shelley looked embarrassed, but stuck to her guns. "It could have happened before..."

<Ask the Doctor the question and an analysis of the response will be provided,> the AI pinged me.

I turned to the Doctor. "Have you ever slept with Ms. Bowman?"

"Absolutely not!" Charles replied. "That's totally unprofessional and a great way to lose an assistant!"

We had transported down an AI interface unit; it powered up and intoned, "Based upon biometric scans, the Doctor is telling the truth. The concubine who was Shelley Atkinson is accusing him falsely. Doctor, whether you have had sex with the woman Susan Bowman is irrelevant to her request -- and your concubine's opinion of the matter is equally irrelevant. However, it may be prudent for you to inflict some punishment upon your concubine as an object lesson, as she appears to misunderstand the parameters of her situation."

"Er, ah, yes," Charles agreed, eyeing a suddenly white-faced Shelley, "but this is not the place, even if it IS the time."

"If I may make a suggestion?" I interjected.

"Anything..." Charles didn't have time or bandwidth for this, and I was the voice of experience here.

"If you are of a mind to accept Ms. Bowman's submission, one of the two of them is going to be Head Bitch -- or whatever you choose to call it," I said, grinning at the gasps I got from both of the women. "Perhaps you should take thirty minutes and let them get used to one another -- intimately. Since Shelley has screwed up, she can go first -- but I suspect that Susan is going to end up subordinate, so she should reciprocate..."

"You're suggesting...?" Charles requested clarification.

"Oral sex," I replied, "In your office. We can give you a little privacy. If we were somewhere else, I would recommend that it be very public, but I understand the current limitations. Still, several of us could wander in and out from time to time..." I grinned. "You could test-drive Susan at some point, if it seems prudent." Shelley looked as if she was going to cry; I took her by the chin and gazed into her eyes. "There will be another; if it isn't Susan, it will be someone else. If you want to have Charles' babies -- and I KNOW you do -- you will need to learn to get along with that person -- become a team with her -- cover each other's backs so that each of you can do your job -- which is keeping Charles happy. Fail in this and you won't BE Charles' concubine and you won't be having his children. You no longer have an exclusive relationship with Charles -- learn it, understand it, live it. If you don't, ugly things can happen -- the worst of which could be your death!" Shelley's eyes widened. "Do you understand?" I rattled her chin and she nodded jerkily. "Apologize to your Master and to this free woman..."

Shelley ducked her head. "I'm sorry, Charles. I'm sorry, Susan."

"Go into my office," Charles told her, pointing. Shelley stepped off. I mouthed, 'Undress!' and Charles read my lips. Smiling grimly, he added, "Be nude when I arrive -- with or without Ms. Bowman."

"Yes, Charles." Shelley went through the door and closed it.

Charles turned to Susan. "You understand the situation -- has it altered your intent?"

"No sir."

"Jack is right," Charles told her. "Shelley will likely be, um, Head Bitch -- initially, at least. Her duties tend to be domestic, while yours will continue to mirror those of your current position -- with some additions. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Susan nodded.

"Very well," Charles nodded. "Let's go see if you and Shelley can develop some kind of working relationship. Jack, feel free to disturb us at any time until I deem otherwise."

"No problem," I assured him. I personally visited twice; the first time, Shelley was crying some but licking Susan's pussy gamely -- and had big red handprints on her ass. The second time, she held Susan's head to her crotch while sucking voraciously at Charles's cock. Nadine Epperson visited the office three times -- and the look on her face as she exited each time said she enjoyed those visits immensely.

The Major noticed. "I don't know what she expects to gain from the situation," he muttered, indicating Nadine, "since she's a sponsor."

Mark shrugged. "I guess it all depends upon just how much charisma Dr. Atkinson can muster."

After a bit, the office door reopened and Shelley and Susan both emerged looking embarrassed and noticeably lacking brassieres -- that jiggle is unmistakable. Both went back to work; after a moment, Charles came out of his office looking preoccupied. I wandered over to see what was up.

"Two of them," he mused. "Isn't that a lot?"

"Not necessarily," I advised. "In the first place, while any one woman can handle any one -- or maybe any three -- men on a given night, they tend not to be available on a regular basis. Men, on the other hand, well, the more we're getting, the more we like it, to a point. Besides, when we get to the Valhalla, you can have the medical section provide you with a little augmentation if you're concerned that you won't be able to deliver on a regular basis. I'm not talking Viagra, either -- it's all natural. You'll be eighteen again where it counts -- or better, even, perhaps. I handle two readily -- and have managed to collect two more." I grinned at him. "You should see what the Marines considered a 'standard modification' until they bashed their heads against the fact that unmodified women couldn't take it enough times that they started to have sense..." I picked up a soda can and measured off a couple of inches above it.

Charles' eyebrows went up. "You're kidding!"

The Major chuckled behind us. "No, he isn't. They were modifying their concubines to take it. Idiots."

"I settled for a little output upgrade," I explained. "It's been effective."

"I see..." Charles rubbed his face.

Nadine descended upon him at that point. "Charles, I wonder if I might have a moment of your time..." They retired to his office and when they came out Charles looked a bit shocky and Nadine looked like the cat who ate the canary. Charles approached me and muttered, "I'm going to need that augmentation."

I shrugged. "Not a problem..."

The incident got me to thinking; there were numerous examples of married women not getting it when it came time to make the transition to concubine -- and our situation didn't allow for the immersion of a normal pickup. Even Beth was flaking, periodically...

Eventually, we got all of the kids under control. The ones who lived in the on-campus dorms were the easy ones; shirkers that lived at home were the big problem, and even that was limited due to the nature of the school, thank God. Student discipline at Seifort was a contractual matter -- parents signed away the right to complain about corporal punishment within limits and the school didn't have to tap-dance around truancy and such the way public schools do. If a student really didn't want to be there, the school didn't want them -- and the parents were paying, so if they wanted to derive any benefit from their investment, it was up to them to motivate the recalcitrant. Between the school and the parents, only the really slick slid by...

I went to the store directly from Seifort; the girls had ridden together in Beth's car, so there was only one vehicle to pick up. "Where are we going?" Beth asked as she and Frieda got into the rental car.

"To pick up a few things, then dinner," I told her. "You think about dinner while we handle the other issue."

Undoubtedly she was surprised when we pulled up in front of a feed store that handled pet items and had an assortment of tack. "Why are we here?"

"You'll see," I told her. I flicked a glance over my shoulder, but Frieda was content to follow us without comment. Inside, I led them to a selection of dog collars. "Pick something out, Spike," I told Frieda, grinning, "then hook up your sister."

"Oh, holy shit!" Frieda guffawed.

"You're kidding, right?" Beth quavered.

"I'm not," I replied. "Your mother and you need to learn to heel, in particular, and given the fact that we still have a couple of days before we get to an environment where it's all natural, you need some physical reminders to help you get over the hump."

"Jack, I'm REAL sorry!" Beth gushed. "I just..."

"You think too much, Sweetie," Frieda interjected while picking through the rack. "I told you that. Stop worrying about what people will think or whatever and start doing your JOB!" She turned to me with a leather item with alternating spikes and studs, "Help me put it on?"

It was too small -- we went a size up. Then she helped Beth pick out something in pink plastic with a lot of fake diamonds on it and a little fake diamond heart pendant or charm hanging off it. I insisted that she get one for herself, and a spiked number for Beth so they would match. Then I picked up a third set of each and some chain leashes before heading over to the horse gear. Beth's eyes bugged when I started fingering quirts and riding crops. "Jack..." she whined.

"Come here," I directed. Ducking her head, she did so. "I'm trying to find a way to get you to understand how things are. I have no intention of wailing away on you for anything, but if I give you a quick flick with this..." I popped her lightly on the ass with the crop, causing her to jump, "... I think it is more effective than having to talk about it, don't you?"

"I... I... Yes, Jack." Waving the thing a bit got the answer I wanted.

"See?" I pointed out, "It's already effective. You stop thinking and just do what you're told."

I turned to Frieda, who threw up her hands. "I get it, Boss. I already did. Beth's momma has her conditioned to worry about appearances and other bullshit, though."

I grinned. "That's why I'm buying a set for Oliver."

"Hey, Jack," Frieda queried. "You wanna be 'Boss' or 'Lord' or 'Master' or what?"

"Jack will do, with the proper respect," I replied. Frieda nodded her head at Beth, pointing at her with her eyes, so I amended things, "but if it helps you keep the proper mindset, we'll go with Master." I looked at Beth, then returned my attention to Frieda. "She's going to ask if we're kidding."

Frieda shrugged. "I love her like a sister, but she's a little slow sometimes..."

I sighed and flicked the quirt at Beth. "OW!" she yelped. "What did you do THAT for...?" Then the light dawned. "...Master?"

"You didn't appear to be getting the point," I explained.

"Isn't there a better way?" she whined, rubbing her hip.

"Well, actually, there doesn't seem to be a clear winner..." I admitted.

Frieda took a shot. "Sweetie, we talked about this at breakfast after the boys left. I KNOW you understand at the global level, but you keep tripping up when push comes to shove! What's your job?"

Beth looked at me suspiciously; I tucked the implements of pain behind my back. "Sex. Babies."

"Anything else?" Frieda prompted.

Beth's eyes flicked back and forth between us. "Whatever Jack wants."

"Aha!" Frieda exclaimed. "NOW we're getting somewhere! So, what would Jack ask you to do that wouldn't come under the heading of 'anything Jack wants'?"

"What?" Beth looked like her head hurt. "Nothing -- I think..."

"That's right, Sweetie!" Frieda exclaimed, patting Beth on the back. "So, tell me -- why are you stopping to think about it when Jack asks you to do something?"

Beth looked pained again. "I don't know?"

"We don't either, Sweetie -- and THAT's the problem!" Frieda explained. "There is no reason to stop and think, because if Jack opens his mouth, it's YOUR job to do whatever comes out -- it doesn't matter what it is! Are we beginning to make sense?"

"B--but..." Beth blustered.

"But what, Sweetie?" Frieda asked, mustering an air of martyred patience. "We've been through this -- what can he ask you that falls outside the boundaries of 'anything'?"

"Well, what if he...?" Beth stopped. Frieda just looked at her. "But that's..."

"Sweetie, you haven't even told us what you're thinking. Do you know why? Because you have your answer already, and you know it!" Frieda explained patiently. "Let's take something patently outrageous -- so Jack tells you to get naked, walk to the corner, and offer blowjobs to the first five black guys who come along. Do you do it?"

"Ewwww!" Beth wrinkled her nose. "Totally naked? Somebody is gonna puke!"

"Not your problem," Frieda countered. "Do you do it?"

"Jeez..."

"Sweetie, did Jack say to do it?"

"Yeah..." Beth eyed me sidelong, her eyes begging, 'You wouldn't, would you?' I showed my teeth and brought the whips around and slapped my hand with them.

"So are you gonna do it?" Frieda prompted.

"It'd be so embarrassing..."

"But are you gonna DO it!?"

"If I don't..."

"If you don't, Jack is gonna be VERY DISAPPOINTED!" Frieda stressed. "And he'll probably use that riding crop on you until your ass is purple -- and NOBODY is gonna tell him he can't because he OWNS you!" Frieda howled. "Now ARE YOU GONNA DO IT?"

I swear, the whites of Beth's eyes showed all around the irises! "Yesss..."

"Jeezus! It's like pulling teeth!" Frieda complained. "Now, Sweetie, after all that stress, wouldn't it be easier if we cut out the middle man?"

"I don't understand..." Beth whined.

"Sweetie, you worked your way through that scenario already, right? If Jack asks you to do it, you'll do it, right? I'm not asking whether you WANT to -- I'm asking if you'll do it! You said, yes, right?"

Beth looked sulky. "Yes."

"Can you think of worse?"

Beth eyed her. "Well, yeah..."

"Will it make a difference?"

Beth's eyes accused me, but her answer was, "No."

Frieda sighed. "Okay, then! You've just done ALL the thinking you EVER have to DO about it! So when Jack asks you to do something, what are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna do it." She was still sulky, but the answer came readily.

Frieda rubbed her face and took Beth's hands. "Sweetie, I'm doing this for your own good. The riding crop thing is just to help you remember until it all becomes second nature -- heck, Jack may have to flick ME a couple of times if I slip up! What you have to realize is that if you don't seem to get it, Jack has to test you. Now I KNOW that Jack doesn't WANT to test you, but as long as you act dumb about it, he HAS to!" She leaned in and looked up at her friend, "Sweetie, you do NOT want him to test you -- because if he has to, it will be something ugly like sucking off those black guys, you know? You need to be PERFECT, so there just isn't any question! Otherwise, Jack has to make you do nasty things until you catch on -- and it's gonna hurt ALL of us to put you through it! Do you understand?"

I can't describe the look on Beth's face adequately -- but 'scared rabbit' comes to mind. "You mean...?"

I looked unhappy -- which wasn't hard. "Yes. Every time you balk or hesitate, I have to punish you -- and then I have to make you do something disagreeable or humiliating or degrading to see if you've learned who is in charge. It's hard -- I don't like it -- but you can't just obey me when you feel like it."

"Oh, boy!" Beth gasped. "Oboy, oboy, oboy..."

"Exactly." I contrived to sigh. "Now I don't have to tell you that you've earned a testing, do I?"

Beth gulped. "No."

"This is what we're going to do," I explained. "I'm not going to surprise you with it, so you can get your act together on the way. I don't want to see any hesitation, no begging or pleading -- you just do what I tell you and act like it's the most natural thing in the world, understand?"

"Yes Jack!"

"Okay, it's going to go like this: When we get to the checkout, I'm going to send you back to the dog collars for another set of two -- one spiked and one pink -- and another leash. When I tell you to go, you take off all of your clothes and put them somewhere -- on the counter or something -- and Frieda is going to put your pink collar and leash on you and you're going to crawl back there on your hands and knees and get the stuff. Then you're going to crawl back with the collars in your teeth -- Frieda can carry the leash -- and you're going to put them in my hand. When I tell you it's okay, you can stand -- but you're going to the car naked. Got all that?"

"Yes Jack." She had this dazed look on her face; I knew that she was already suffering the humiliation in advance.

"I can add blowing the clerk at the checkout if you don't think it's enough..." I taunted.

"Oh, no! That's fine!" Beth threw up her hands.

"Okay, then. Let's go." I turned and led the pair to the checkout. Frieda had rolled her eyes when Beth assured me that she would be compliant, and she whispered urgently in Beth's ear. I left it alone.

The clerk, a fifty-something male in eyeglasses, looked up, bored, as we placed our purchases on the counter. "Will that be all?"

I studied things for a moment, then said, "No. Frieda, I need another leash and another of each type of collar. Hook up my bitch and take her with you."

Being called 'bitch' was another shock for Beth, but she got moving, climbing out of her clothes, head down. When she had her top off and straightened from stepping out of her stretch pants, Frieda stepped in with the collar, "Raise your head, Sweetie, so I can get this on..." Beth watched me as she removed her bra; I looked back wearing my poker 'evaluation' face.

"Mister, we don't, uh...' the clerk stammered.

I flashed my Confederacy ID. "It'll be fine -- she's a concubine."

"Oh... Okay..." He started looking around for a containment field. "Are you, uh, picking up?"

"No, this is a training exercise."

"I see..." He didn't, really.

Frieda snapped the leash on Beth's collar and she went down on all fours and they headed up the aisle. A young female customer wandered over holding a riding helmet. "What's all that?"

"I'm training a concubine."

"There's better looking," she said critically.

"There are other criteria," I replied shortly. Was EVERYONE so shallow?

"Oh?" the girl asked, archly. There wouldn't be, for her -- she was a looker. Brunette, with a widow's peak, thin, nice features.

"I have one who looks like Paris Hilton and one that looks like Catherine Zeta-Jones at home," I replied, "and they're terrible mothers. THAT one," I pointed at Beth, who was crawling back with collars in her teeth, "is a real Earth Mother type."

"So why do this?" the girl waved at Beth, who was blushing furiously but gamely crawling forward.

"She has to get used to the rules," I replied. "It's tough in this environment. You have rights and can complain and can have me arrested or whatever for that -- but she can't -- and she needs to learn it. Besides, I like my women nude."

"Why isn't the other one nude?" the girl asked.

"She understands the drill," I replied. "Don't you, Frieda?"

"Yes, Master," Frieda replied phlegmatically. "Want me to strip down?"

"See?" I told the girl.

"So you're training a harem for pickup?" the girl's lip curled.

"No, I'm a Confederacy officer on Earth on official business," I replied.

"Um..." That rocked her. There were some very visible members of the Confederacy military on Earth at all times -- and how they handled their concubines in public was one of the things that made them visible. "Really?"

"Really." I flashed my ID.

"You aren't, um, looking, are you?" she asked.

"No," I replied, "I have what I want." I crooked my finger at Beth and held out my hand for the collars, then placed them on the counter while pressing her head against my leg with my other hand and caressing her cheek. "That's my favorite girl," I murmured. Then, eyeing the new collars, I noted, "These aren't the same size."

"They didn't have any more in that size and color," Frieda supplied. "The pink one MIGHT fit..."

"No more spikes?" I asked, eyeing the black leather collar provided. It had studs, not spikes.

"Nope. Sorry, Master -- they have a limited supply." Her eyes accused the clerk. "They had a couple more of those, too -- but not four. I REALLY like the spikes..." Clearly, she didn't want me to change up. "You know, they had purple ones..."

"How many?" I asked. Frieda shrugged. "Go check. Bring some back. Get more with studs, too." I patted Beth on her bare ass as Frieda stepped off, tugging her leash. "Go along, Baby." Beth crawled off obediently.

The clerk turned to the girl. "Are you finished shopping?"

"No."

The clerk started messing with his register. I just waited as the girls went to the collar rack and Frieda dug through the collars, placing some selected ones in Beth's mouth and holding others. When they paraded back, I knew the answer before they got to me. "Only three in purple, too, Master," Frieda related, "and three with studs in the right size."

"Hmmm... I guess I'll have to offer your father a different color for your mother," I muttered to Beth, rubbing her cheek. She pressed her face against my pant leg -- for comfort and to hide it a bit, I imagined. Still, she was doing what she was told -- to the letter.

"I, um, might have some in the back," the clerk related, "if inventory has been kept up properly. But I'll have to close the register..." He was apparently alone -- but then, it WAS after eight p.m. He flashed a significant glance at the girl, who was one of only two customers in the store.

"I'll watch things, if you like," I told him. I produced my stinger, "There will be no shoplifting. Take Frieda." I turned to Frieda, "I want four of every type, if at all possible -- spikes, studs, pink and purple."

"Yes, Master," Frieda nodded. "Do I thank the man?"

"Let's see the results," I replied. "Besides, we don't want to press anything on him he doesn't want."

The clerk eyed Frieda critically while closing the register. "Let's go." He led her off.

While they were gone, I praised Beth. She sat on her haunches and I rubbed her face, neck, and shoulders and fondled her breasts while telling her she was doing a wonderful job. She perked up visibly and leaned against me, absorbing the attention while eyeing the dark-haired girl triumphantly; she'd heard me turn the girl's offer down flat. The girl looked a little stung. "So, you're a dog..." she attacked.

"I'm HIS dog," Beth replied. "What are you?" She rubbed her cheek against my leg.

"I knew you would catch on!" I approved.

"I knew," Beth agreed. "I just got... wrapped around the axle. It's not how..."

"Yeah, you weren't raised to this," I agreed. "How do you feel?"

"Wet." Beth eyed the girl maliciously. The girl blushed and turned away. "If Frieda sucks him can I suck you?" I just grinned.

Frieda returned, triumphant, waving collars. "We got four of everything, Master!"

"Excellent!" I turned to the clerk. "No one has gone anywhere, with or without merchandise."

"Thank you," he said perfunctorily while opening the register. "If she meant what I thought she meant a bit ago, I'd have to say no. She looks to be twelve or thirteen."

"She's a case of arrested development," I told him. "She's over twenty. And no, I'm not a pedophile, and I've had nothing done to her."

"Still..." He shook his head. "I wouldn't be able to shake the feeling." He continued scanning and ringing the items up.

"Beth, then?" I offered. Beth looked up at me and smiled, 'I can do this' written all over her face. She was catching on...

"Um, no -- not that far, anyway. I might like to... touch her."

I nodded as I passed my credit card to him. "Beth, get up and go around behind the counter and let him feel anything he wants." I unsnapped the leash.

It took him five minutes to get his fill. "Such soft breasts," he sighed as Beth returned to me.

I held my girls' hands as we exited the store. "I want you SOOO BAAAD..." Beth whispered as we went out the door.

We got in my car to discuss where we were going to have dinner -- and decided to go to the house first. I had Beth ride with me to her house; we went back to the grocery and Frieda got Beth's car. I couldn't let Beth play with me, so I had her masturbate. The incredibly wet sounds her hands made in her pussy ALMOST made me pull off the road and bend her over the hood, but I contained myself...