Chapter 4
At six o'clock that evening, Nelson Froline emerged from the Dorando Hotel.
Tyler Reed, detective, leaned forward in the front seat of his car and watched Nelson cross the parking lot to his own automobile.
Reed noticed that Nelson walked stiffly and gingerly. Nelson wasn't limping, but there was something stiff and strained in his gait.
That puzzled Reed. Nelson hadn't had any trouble walking into the hotel, but he seemed to be in some pain when he came out of it.
Not that Nelson looked like he was suffering. Quite the contrary. His face looked as serene and peaceful as if he had just come from a session of silent prayer and meditation and was once more ready to face the real world.
Nelson got behind the wheel of his car. He sat on the edge of the padded, deeply cushioned seat. He gasped as he rested his weight on his buttocks.
Tyler Reed couldn't know that the reason for Nelson's stiffness was because his bottom was sore and aching from the strapping Marla gave him.
Nelson started up the big V-8 engine and drove away. The detective trailed him discreetly in his own car, from a distance.
Reed followed Nelson out to the suburbs, finally breaking off the shadowing job when Nelson's car turned into the horseshoe-shaped driveway of his palatial mansion. He knew that Nelson would be at home for some hours.
Reed was restless. Deciding to follow up a hunch, he headed north, to a smaller, less expensive neighborhood, a residential district with fine homes and high walls.
He parked in front of a white, split-level ranch house surrounded by a high brick fence. An ornate but solid gate barred the entrance way.
He pressed a buzzer. After a moment, a voice crackled over the intercom set in the gate pillar. "Who are you all and what do you want?"
"I want to talk to Josie Baylor," Reed said.
"Yeah? And who in the hell are you, pard'ner?" It was a gruff man's voice.
"Reed's the name, Tyler Reed. Josie knows me. You tell her I'm here."
There was silence. After a moment, an electronic mechanism automatically opened the gate. Reed entered, shutting it behind him.
The lawn was green and lush and there were lots of trees. Tacked on the trees were signs which warned that trespassers would be shot.
A pair of snarling Dobermans were chained not far from the path on which he walked. The hounds bared their fangs at him and only their chains kept them from attacking him.
The front door was opened by a lone man, dry and lanky. He wore a large revolver in a holster strapped to his waist.
But it wasn't the guard who caught his eye. It was the young lady who stood next to the guard. She was gorgeous.
She had blonde hair which fell to her shoulders. She was about five and a half feet tall, and she wore a sexy French maid's uniform.
The uniform was made of black satin. It had a high collar and fit tightly against the maid's fine body. Her breasts were small and pert and pointed. She was slender, perhaps too thin, but lovely.
Her face was artfully made-up. Her brows were plucked clean and had been drawn in with a pencil, giving her an exotic look, like a Thirties movie star.
Eye liner and blue shadow made her eyes look even deeper and wider than they were. She had high cheekbones and a pointed chin.
Her lips were painted with a pale, waxy lip gloss. Blusher was applied, adding a touch of color to her cheeks.
Her black satin uniform was very tight and scandalously short. In front, it covered her from just below her chin, down to the hem of the brief skirt.
The maid's uniform had puffed sleeves and a flaring skirt. Pinned around her slender waist was a lacy white apron and a frilly cap of similar material was fixed to the top of her head.
The skirt was so short that it came to the very tops of her thighs. Her long legs were covered with fishnet stockings. Her feet were jammed into flat-heeled, black patent leather shoes with tiny rosettes on the tops.
The maid was shy and her eyes were downcast. Reed gave her a good looking over and liked what he saw. He stepped into the cool house.
The guard said, "She'll take you to Josie, man."
The maid turned on her heels and started down a long hall. Although the uniform covered the front of her chest almost chastely, in the back it had a plunging neckline with lots of fabric scooped out, revealing her long and elegant back. Her bare flesh was as white as marble and looked smoother than silk.
The hem of the garment barely covered the cheeks of her saucily rounded bottom. Her stiff, starched white petticoats rustled as she moved.
The long hall was lined on either side by doors. When they were midway down the hall, one of those doors opened and a woman stepped out.
She was tall and lean, a hard-faced, tough brunette in black leather. She wore a black leather bra which cupped her firm, pointed breasts.
Around her waist was a thick black leather belt with metal spikes jutting out from it. She wore black leather hot pants which hugged her crotch and bottom.
Thigh-high black leather boots covered her long legs. The shimmering, highly polished boots had six-inch spiked stiletto heels, making the woman toweringly tall.
In her hand she carried a riding crop. She smiled thinly when she saw the maid. The maid started to pass her. The brunette blocked her way with the crop.
The brunette caressingly ran the crop up and down the maid's stockinged thighs. The maid stopped and shivered.
The brunette said, "Hi, Samantha. You all ain't come to see Dixie for a while, honey. I sure have missed you. Give me a great big kiss to show me how you missed me, too." Dixie, the brunette, embraced Samantha the maid.
Dixie hugged the maid tightly. The brunette dominatrix ground her hips roughly against Samantha's and hugged her in a crushing embrace.
Dixie reached behind Samantha and rested her hands on the maid's buttocks. She fondled the firm globes through the satin skirt and the petticoats.
Dixie crushed Samantha's lips with her own. Samantha opened her mouth for Dixie's demanding, probing tongue. Dixie kissed the maid brutally.
Reed paused, waiting for Dixie to disengage from Samantha. The door to the room which Dixie had just left was open. Idly curious, he peeked inside.
The room was designed to look like a torture chamber in a dungeon. The walls and floor were made of stone and straw was scattered on the floor.
In the center of the room was a large wooden rack. Two naked bodies hung in bondage from this rack. Reed swallowed hard.
A middle-aged man, nude, hung from chains which were manacled to his wrists. His feet were chained to the floor. They were cuffed in a spread-eagled position.
A woman, nude, with a beautiful physique, likewise hung in chains. She was hanging upside down, suspended by her cuffed ankles from the overhead bars of the rack. Her cuffs were padded on the inside, so as not to damage her. Her arms hung downward and were secured by chains to the beam at the rack's base.
The man and woman were tied together with leather straps. They were arranged in such a position that the woman's pussy was pressed against the man's face and her head was bound directly against his cock and balls.
A third person, a woman, stood off to one side. Where Dixie was tall and spare, without an excess pound of flesh on her lean frame, this second woman was abundantly fleshed, voluptuously buxom.
She, too, was a dominatrix. She was short and wide. Her hair was flame colored, obviously dyed and piled up in elaborate curls and ringlets.
Her wide face was heavily made-up, with black arching eyebrows and a wide red mouth. She wore a corset with leather half-cups which lifted her lush breasts as though it was offering them for consumption by a hungry mouth. The half-cups left her nipples bare. They were fat and pink and the wide blurred rosettes took up a good part of her bosom. The nipples were stiff with arousal.
Fat garters dangled down from the bottom of the corset. They were pinned to the dark tops of nylons which covered the redhead's plump legs.
She was naked between the bottom of the corset and the stocking tops. Her flesh was smooth and creamy, with wide hips. Her bush was dark brown and her pussy lips were thick and fleshy, like a thick-lipped mouth peeping through a thick beard.
The redhead held a cat-o'-nine-tails. The bottoms and backs of the thighs of the bound man and woman were striped with the marks of a whipping.
They must have been enjoying it, though. The man's cock was hard and it was deep in the woman's mouth. And his face was pressed against her pussy, with his tongue inside her. The redhead saw Reed and winked. He looked away. She laughed.
Out in the hall, Dixie ended the kiss. Samantha was pale and trembling. Dixie mocked the maid's discomfort.
Dixie said, "Later, when I get done working, doll, I'm going to pay you a little visit. It'll be real cozy, just the three of us - you, me and my whip."
Dixie went down the hall. The redhead came to the door, her breasts bobbing as she strutted to it. She paused with her hand on the knob of the door.
She asked Reed, "You all see anything you like?"
"I'm here on business," he said quickly.
She laughed. "Me, too. Well, don't be shy, handsome man. Whatever turns you on, there's somebody here who can give you what you need." She closed the door.
Samantha resumed walking down the hall and Reed silently followed her.
There was a door leading outdoors at the end of the hall. Samantha led the detective out to a sheltered patio, a private enclosure.
Tyler Reed felt like he had stepped out of modern-day Dallas and into ancient Egypt. Josie Baylor, the master of this house, held court like a queen.
She sprawled indolently on a massive couch. The couch was shaped like a hollowed-out sea-shell and could easily have fit five people.
Josie was forty-five years old. She had the body of a woman twenty years younger. She wore a soft, clinging gown which displayed all her charms.
Her face, while striking, was too intense to be called pretty and too harsh to be called beautiful. But she was still a damned attractive woman.
Her brown hair was arranged in one of those elaborate coiffures favored by Nashville county music queens and female members of the Texas aristocracy.
Josie knew that aristocracy well. For over twenty years, she had catered to the kinky sexual tastes of the richest men and women in Dallas.
Her nose was sharp, like an eagle's beak. Her eyes were dark and deep. Her skin was white, almost pale. She avoided the sun. It aged her skin, she thought. The deluxe bed she reclined on had a canopy which protected her sensitive skin from the sun's rays.
The bed was covered with satin and silk. The pillows and cushions were piled up so she could be in a sitting position.
The gown that she wore was as slight and insubstantial as a cobweb. It was made from a gauzy, silken fabric which clung to her curves.
Her breasts were heavy, with large pointed nipples. Her belly was flat and lean and there wasn't an inch of flab on her hips or thighs or bottom.
She watched Tyler Reed follow Samantha the maid across the enclosed patio.
Josie was flanked by a pair of muscle men. Each of them was a splendid specimen of masculine development. They were scientific body builders.
One of them was blond and the other was dark. Their tanned bodies looked like they had been carved from wood. Their bodies were covered with oil. The sun gleamed on them, making them look like bronze statues.
They both were naked, except for black leather jockstraps. They held long poles with wide fans attached to the ends. They were slowly fanning Josie, moving the fans with care so as not to disturb her with too strong a breeze.
Sharing the bed with Josie were a boy and girl in their early teens. They, too, were naked. The boy was slender, with a lean, hairless body. The girl had budding breasts with neat pink nipples. Her bottom was ripely rounded.
Josie's gown was hiked up over her waist. She lay on her belly, resting her head on her arms. The boy and the girl were massaging sweet scented oils into the soft flesh of her buttocks and her thighs.
Josie made no attempt to cover herself when she saw Reed approach. Reed's face was carefully expressionless. He had known Josie long enough so that nothing she did surprised him. But he did feel overdressed in such an informal setting.
Josie drawled, "Well, if it ain't Tyler Reed, you old son of a bitch!"
He politely tipped his hat to her. "Howdy, Josie."
She held out her hand and he kissed it. Josie arched her eyebrow. She said, "For a Lone Star shit-kicker, you're developing some real Continental manners, hoss."
Josie sat up, swung her legs under her and rested her feet on the patio. She shooed away the boy and girl, telling them to amuse themselves until she called them.
They nimbly hopped off the bed. The girl was lightly bushed and her pussy lips were thin, pink and delicate. Her breasts were small, firm and high.
Despite his youth, the boy had an adult-sized pair of genitals. His penis, while not erect, was thick and full and his balls were heavy and swollen in the sac.
The youngsters went off to one side. There were numerous cushions and pillows lying around the patio. The youths sat down and embraced.
While they kissed, the boy fondled the girl's breasts. She reached into his lap and closed her hand around his penis. It swelled and grew.
Josie patted the plush mattress of her bed. "Sit down over here, Tyler."
Reed sat down. Samantha, the maid, asked him if he would like some refreshment.
He said, "Sure, why the hell not. Bring me some bourbon and branch water."
Samantha didn't have to travel very far. There was a completely furnished portable bar on the patio. She went there and made the drink.
Her shoes scuffled against the patio floor as she minced to Reed and handed him his drink. Josie drank something minty and green in a long-stemmed glass.
He and Josie made small talk for a while. Before going into business for himself, Reed had worked on the Dallas detective squad. One night, an important Texas politician had committed suicide in one of Josie's pleasure palaces.
Reed knew where the power was and he had cut a few corners and broken a few rules to hush up what could have been an explosive scandal.
Since then, he and Josie had been wary friends. When Reed retired from the force to start his own detective business, he and Josie became even more friendly.
He said, "Looks like you're keeping busy, Josie."
"You, too. I hear you all are moving in some pretty fast circles in town."
He laughed. "I just work for the gentry, Josie, I don't play with them. I'm just another hired hand."
"You and me both, pardner. Well, what can I do for you? I'd be flattered to think you drifted over here just to see little old me, but it ain't likely."
"Well, as a matter of fact, I could use a favor. I need some info, Josie."
"It don't hurt to ask," she said. "I may not answer, but you can always ask."
Over in the corner, the boy and girl were now horizontal. She lay on her back and he lay on her. He hadn't penetrated her, not yet.
They were kissing and fondling. The boy fastened his mouth on the girl's hard pink nipple and sucked it as he caressed her slender thighs.
The girl kneaded the soft white globes of his bottom. Their legs were entwined.
Josie said, "Look at 'em. Lord, what I'd give to be young again! 'Course, that ain't possible, so I do the next best thing - I keep myself surrounded by those lovely, wonderful young people."
"So I've noticed," Reed said dryly. "If they surrounded you anymore closely, you'd have to get a bigger bed."
Josie sighed. "Well, ask away, man."
He leaned forward. "What do you know about a woman named Marla Blaine?"
"What do you know about her?" Josie asked back. "Marla's okay. She's a nice girl. If you're planning to lean on her for something, count me out."
He shook his head. "It ain't nothing like that. Fact is, my client's husband has gone head over heels for Marla and my client is worried."
Josie said, "You trot on back to your client and tell her she can stop worrying. Sure, Marla's got expensive tastes and she don't come cheap. But the class of folks you're working for can easily afford her as a plaything."
"What's she like? Is she discreet? Can she be trusted?"
"She's no cheap blackmailer or grifter, if that's what you all are worried about. She ain't gonna put the squeeze on the fellow. She's honest in her way."
Reed said, "My client will be glad to hear that. She was worried about her man getting trapped into doing something, stupid, something that might create a messy scandal. Newspapers, police, lawyers, that sort of thing."
"Won't happen. That just ain't her style," Josie said flatly.
"Well, what is her style?"
Josie said, "Marla don't work all sides of the streets. She's a specialty gal. She's got real definite likes and dislikes, you might say."
"Kinky?"
"Damn right. Marla's a high-priced practitioner of her, uh, art."
Tyler Reed asked Josie what Marla's kink was.
"I can do better than tell you," Josie said, "I can show you. Samantha, come over here for a second, honey." The maid hurried to Josie.
Josie put her arm around Samantha's waist and pulled her close. Samantha blushed and smiled happily. Josie caressed the maid's thighs through the fishnet stockings.
Josie asked Reed, "You like Samantha, Tyler? Ain't she a pretty thing?"
"Sure, she's real cute," he said. "But what's that got to do with Marla Blaine?"
"I'm going to show you the kind of thing that Marla's into."
Josie lifted Samantha's black satin skirt and ruffled petticoats. Samantha looked down at the ground and stared at her feet.
She wore white lace panties. Josie pulled the panties down. Samantha turned toward her when Josie told her to move closer. Samantha's back was to Reed.
The panties were rolled down to the tops of her thighs. Reed saw the sun shining on a rounded, heart-shaped ass with soft, white buttocks.
Josie parted Samantha's thighs and reached between them. Tyler Reed saw something curious. Josie was untying something between Samantha's thighs.
Josie turned Samantha in profile so Reed could watch them better. Josie tugged at a small, thin cord which was tied around Samantha's waist and groin.
Josie tugged out a large leather pouch which had been tucked up between Samantha's legs, in the crack of the ass, out of sight.
There was a drawstring at the top of the pouch. Josie's long nails pulled it open. She pulled the pouch away, revealing a very masculine set of cock and balls between Samantha's stockinged legs. Samantha was a man.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Tyler Reed said.
Josie chuckled at his amazement. Samantha's cock and balls had been tightly compressed in the pouch, tucked away out of sight. Now that they were free, they expanded as they lay on Josie's palm.
She fondled Samantha's balls and caressed his penis. It twitched and jerked on her hand. It thickened and started to grow. In seconds, it was a stiff erection.
It looked bizarre to see that long, hard male member jutting from the hairless hips of Samantha. The masculine genitals were surrounded by frilly feminine finery.
Josie said, "That's Marla's game. She's a tough bitch who only goes with men who dress in woman's clothing - like Samantha, here."
Josie fondled the TV maid's cock with one hand and caressed his ass with her other.
She said, "Samantha likes Marla. You'd like to be on your knees for her, on your knees and serving Marla the way she wants, wouldn't you, Sam?"
Samantha said, "I don't want to serve anybody but you, Josie."
"Smart girl," Josie said. "That was the right answer to save yourself from an ass whipping, Sam. You know what this means, Tyler? It means that your client's husband has to be into cross-dressing. Has to be. If he wasn't, Marla wouldn't have nothing to do with him, no matter how much money he's got."
There was a sigh from the corner of the patio. The boy was fucking the young girl. His hairless buttocks were tightly clenched as he thrust his member into her pussy again and again. He moved with vigor and she matched his fire.
Josie said, "Mind that you don't make no trouble for Marla, man. She's okay and she ain't doing nothing that he don't want her to do."
"I ain't going to make trouble for nobody," he said. "It's not that kind of play. My client doesn't want no divorce. She loves her man. She just wants to make sure that nobody gets hurt and that there ain't no scandal."
"That guy'll get hurt if he goes to Marla," Josie laughed. "She loves to beat ass. Personally, I'm kind of fond of it myself." She patted the maid's behind.
"Yeah." Reed stood up. "Well, thanks for the information, Josie. I'll be moseying along now. Maybe I'll see you again soon."
"Why don't you stick around and get friendly? We'll have a party."
"That's the nicest offer I've had all day, but I'm on a job, Josie."
"I know tricks that Marla Blaine never even heard of. Stay with me."
"Sorry, Josie." He tipped his hat to her. "And don't worry about the maid showing me out. I know the way to the door."
On the ground, the boy gasped as he came, shooting semen inside the girl.
Tyler Reed went inside. The last thing he saw was Josie and Samantha.
Josie shrugged as Reed exited. "Well, what the hell." She squeezed Samantha's cock. She said, "As long as you got this nice hard-on, Sam, it would be a shame to let it go to waste." She gripped the member and licked her lips.
Josie took the stiff penis into her mouth. She rubbed the cock head against the roof of her mouth and whipped her tongue across the shaft's underside.
Samantha shivered with delight. For over twenty years, Josie had been known in the sexual underground of Dallas as one of the best cock suckers to ever hit that town. Josie put her formidable oral talents to work on the TV maid.
She relaxed the muscles of her throat, taking the cock deep into it. The male maid's buttocks were tightly clenched. Josie gripped them, digging her nails in.
Her head bobbed back and forth. She sucked Samantha until he came in her mouth.
Some four hours later, a curious meeting took place in Room 605.
Marla Blaine was meeting Tyler Reed. Marla wore a black silk blouse and a pair of jeans. The faded jeans were skin-tight and hugged her like they were painted on the flesh. They revealed the folds of her crotch and her curved bottom.
Her feet were in open-toed, high-heeled shoes. She sat on a couch in the living room, resting her feet on an ottoman.
She had no clients scheduled until midnight, so she was dressed casually, rather than in one of her bizarre domination outfits.
Tyler Reed recognized the musky smell in the room to be that of reefers which had been smoked not long before his arrival. He and Marla were alone.
Marla's dark eyes were sharp and appraising, but her face was otherwise coolly expressionless. "So you say that you're a friend of Josie Baylor's, huh?"
"That's right, ma'am." His voice was polite, deferential. He sat in an uncomfortable chair, his hands piously folded in his lap.
He had called Marla from the lobby of the Dorando Hotel. He told her that he had some specially tastes and that a mutual acquaintance of theirs, Josie Baylor, had told him that Marla could help him to indulge those strange tastes.
Marla denied knowing what he was talking about, but told him to come on up.
Tyler Reed had been commissioned by Charlotte Froline, Nelson's wife, to investigate the odd behavior of her husband.
Reed wanted to meet Marla directly. There was only so much he could learn about her from hearsay. There was no substitute for direct contact.
He owed it to his client to meet Marla and see if she was the type of predatory woman who might try a blackmail attempt, or, even worse, try something really stupid, like working on Nelson to divorce his wife and marry Marla.
At least, that's what Reed told himself was his real motive for meeting Marla - that he owed it to his client to make as thorough an investigation as possible.
But there was a strange knot of tension in his belly. He felt awkward and shy, like a boy going to his first dance. His ears were red and burning.
When Marla let him into her room, she told him that she had been unable to reach Josie Baylor by phone to check up on him.
"But you look all right to me," she said grudgingly. "Come on in."
She asked him if he wanted a drink. He said he wouldn't mind something a little refreshing and light, like a soda.
She said, "I'll have a straight up scotch. The bar's over there in the corner. You can make my drink and find your soda there, too."
Now, he and Marla sat across from each other, talking. Reed's cover story was that he was fascinated by Marla's scene, but that he was a novice, eager to begin, but also afraid and needing to be reassured.
Marla's hair was uncombed and hung around her face in disarray, giving her a wild, reckless appearance. Reed could smell her perfume.
"Not so fast," she said. "I don't take on just anybody who walks through that door. I've got expensive tastes and I like generous gentlemen."
Reed assured her that he would have no problem meeting the financial obligations.
She said, "That's only part of it. There's other requirements you have to satisfy. And the most important thing you have to satisfy is me. There are rules here. I'm not here for your pleasure. It don't matter, you pleasure. What matters is my pleasure. I'm the queen and you're lower than a slave to me."
She stood up. "I've got some time to kill, so I might as well waste it on you. We can have an introductory session right now."
Reed said, "I'm sorry, but I hadn't planned on doing it right now-"
"You can do what I tell you to do, or you can get the hell out of here!"
He mumbled that he was sorry. Her eyes had gotten cold and steely. She relaxed, but not much. She said, "Before we do anything else, take your clothes off."
His cheeks burned with embarrassment. "My clothes? All of them?"
"That's right. Hmmm, you're not so very bright, are you? I hope you're not thinking of disobeying me this early in the game?"
"No, of course not, ma'am. Uh, where should I get undressed?"
"In the guard room at Buckingham Palace," she said sarcastically. "You strip right here, fool. Shut your mouth and take your clothes off."
It was time to leave. He had learned all he was going to learn from talking to Marla Blaine and it hadn't been much.
On the other hand, maybe it would help him in this case if he knew what kind of scene Nelson Froline was into. After all, there was no substitute for direct experience and observation. And Marla was a beautiful woman ... and a bitch.
Marla said sharply, "Well? What in hell are you waiting for, boy?"
He apologized once more. She spread her legs shoulder width apart and rested her hands on her hips, striking a dominant and defiant posture.
Reed took off his hat, his jacket, his shirt, and his boots. He blushed as he pulled down his zipper. He pulled his pants down off his narrow hips and stepped out of them. He wore boxer style shorts.
He had a lean waist, slender hips and practically no ass at all, because his bottom was so flat. His legs were long and lightly covered with body hair.
"I'll say you're a beginner," Marla snorted. "Don't you have any panties at all? Those are some of the ugliest shorts I've ever seen in my life."
There was a small table by the side of the couch. Marla opened a drawer under the table and took something out of it, something hard and bright and metallic.
It was a gleaming pair of handcuffs. The tiny links of the chain holding the cuffs together jangled softly, musically.
Reed said, "What are those for, ma'am?"
Marla said, "They're for my protection. After all, I don't know you. I've never had a session with you. This will slow you down some if you're one of those sickies who turns violent. I ain't taking no chances with a stranger."
"You don't need to handcuff me, ma'am. I won't give you no trouble."
"I'll decide what you need and don't need! Now, you can put your hands behind your back so I can cuff em, or you can put your clothes back on and get the hell out of my apartment! I'm getting sick and tired of having to humor you, boy!"
Reed put his hands behind his back. Marla twisted his arms. There was surprising strength in her smooth, seemingly soft body.
Cold steel circled his wrists as the cuffs were snapped into place.
Marla said, "I don't know about you, but that makes me feel a whole hell of a lot better!" She thoughtfully cupped her chin in her hand and walked around him.
She said, "Yeah, I reckon I can do a few things to pretty you up. You're thin, which helps. Your legs are good. Kind of lean in the ass, though. Well, the first thing I'm going to do is get rid of those shorts you're wearing. They're just positively the ugliest things!" She pulled the shorts down off his hips.
They fluttered down his legs and fell to his ankles. Now, he was totally naked. Marla stared at his cock and balls and he felt self-conscious.
She grabbed his member. He cried out in alarm, then relaxed when he saw that she was only going to fondle it and not do some harm to it.
She smiled, loving his fear. "Relax, honey. I ain't going to hurt you - yet. You've got a nice tool." She let his cock rest in her palm.
She stroked his member. It quivered at her touch. It jerked, spasming with life and new thickness. It stiffened into a long, thick hard-on.
"Well!" Marla said. "Heavens, that was fast, wasn't it?!" Her expression showed that she savored having the power to make him respond in the most basic way.
She squeezed his cock and began to scold him. "That thing between your legs is a troublemaker, so don't let it go giving you ideas! Like I said, you're here for my pleasure! I don't want you to think that you're going to get to fuck me! I might fuck you, if you're a good little girl, but you won't fuck me!"
She released him. She said, "I've got all my pretties in my bedroom. I'm sure I've got some garments that will fit your size. Let's go and get you dressed. After that, we'll see what kind of a slave you can be and what the best way for you to serve me will be. There's the bedroom, over on the left. Let's go!"
She took hold of his cock and pulled on it, tugging at it like it was a leash. Reed followed her closely. When he lagged even a few feet behind her, she would pull very hard on his member and dig her long nails into the hard shaft.
Marla's bedroom was a feminine fantasy. It was all pink and white, with a massive bed dominating the room, just as it dominated Marla's life. The satin sheets were rumpled and disordered from her afternoon with Nelson.
Marla said to Reed, "Now I'm going to turn you into a girl!"