The Slave Girl Next Door Ch 1 Pt 1 of 2.

[Mr. Smith]

This is a story I have been working on for a while having taken up Avicia's challenge to write a story using her name for the protagonist. This is my take on the topic of the neglected wife that Carl Bradford used for his story the Substitute. So yes, I have been working on this since last September and am now rewriting the second part of the first chapter and what is now Ch 8. There have been a few instances where I found myself jumping into a rabbit hole along the way with Hey Abner letters and the Origin of Horny juice. It may be a while before I publish the rest, or not depending on how long I stay in the rabbit hole rewrite of the second part of chapter 1 but the lure of collaring a lesbian abolitionist recent graduate from all girls Mount Holyoke College in Massachusetts was too strong. Thanks to all of you who helped with the edits.

“My mother said it was simple to keep a man: You must be a maid in the living room, a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. I said I’d hire the other two and take care of the bedroom bit.”

-Jerry Hall

Avicia “Avvy” Walker’s perspective (Spring 2022)

Damn, my husband Chris ruined date night again! I angrily filled my wine glass with a nice merlot and stormed outside to get some fresh air. Date night was supposed to end with him pinning me to the bed and pounding me to a nice orgasm or two or three; but no, not my husband; Chris was sipping scotch while watching a damn basketball game on TV. The Mavericks were in the NBA playoffs, and I refused to be a brief halftime interlude.

I enjoyed having an active sex life as much as the next person. As a married woman coming from a respectable family there are just certain things that are just off limits for a "good girl" like me. Chris knows to never, ever cum in my mouth. Early in our marriage he dangled his dirty penis coated with our combined fluids in my face asking me to clean him with my mouth. Yuck, not happening! He only tried that, once ending up sleeping on the couch that night, and the next. It was then that I laid down the law letting him know that a free woman like me did NOT get spanked, tied up in bondage or role play as a sex slave. Anal sex, hell will freeze over first! Otherwise, I think I'm pretty adventurous. Although right now, regarding my sex life, as we say here in Texas, I had a hitch in my giddyup.

It felt like it had been in a perpetual dry spell since my daughter Ginny was born seven years ago. Hell, before kids we rarely made it upstairs before getting at it; oftentimes finding myself lovingly rode hard and put away wet by the end of the evening. Usually, after having been bent over something. Like the upstairs banister, the downstairs banister, the washing machine, the couch, the drying machine, the kitchen counter… you get the picture. We “christened” pretty much everything in the house. Every new car… twice if you count the hood and the back seat separately. Now I couldn’t remember the last time he gave me the attention I so desperately craved.

Sipping my wine, I savored the beautiful early May evening, the cloudless sky was full of stars and a glorious full moon. Eight years ago, on a night like this, we would have been skinny dipping in our pool before going at it like wild animals in heat outside under the light of the full moon. After the first bout he easily found a second wind, and then we’d start again, slow, and nice and then it was more and harder until he would be pounding my brains out again.

I sighed, sipping my wine lost in my memories, when I heard rustling and giggles coming from the Murphy’s backyard next door.

“Whack!”

Oh my god! It sounded like someone just got spanked!

“Whack!”

“Knees slut, mouth!” commanded a confident voice that I recognized as our neighbor Jim Murphy.

“Yes, Master,” replied an unfamiliar girlish voice.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Putting down my wine, I tiptoed over to the fence to hear better. I mean, curiosity killed the cat, and I had nothing better to do. At first, all I heard were slurps and moans. I felt so dirty listening to my neighbors going at it, but I couldn’t walk away, I was frozen in that spot, it was just too arousing. My body was burning up while my pussy was becoming moist at the same time. I wanted to feel just how wet, but I didn’t want to cross a line by touching myself.

Authoritatively Jim ordered, “Give my balls a tongue bath, slut.”

“Yes, master,” happily giggled that same girlish voice.

Where was Jim’s wife Katja? No, that was NOT her. That was impossible. Did he really have a slave girl back there? He must. Squeezing my thighs together, I felt a growing wet spot in my underwear as I bit my lip to suppress a moan. My nosiness got the better of me and I quietly dragged a chair to the fence. Surreptitiously I climbed onto the wobbly chair and peeked over the fence into my neighbor’s backyard.

My face burned with embarrassment at the idea that I could be caught, but then I felt a warm flush of arousal reach down to my neck and lower, much lower. I reached up with my cold hand and pressed it against my chest to cool it. My body was consumed by a firestorm of arousal as I peered into their yard seeing, for the first time, other people having sex.

What a sight! Jim was standing naked with a nude woman on her knees with her face buried in his crotch, licking his balls from the sounds of it. I couldn’t make out her face, but she had long dark hair, so it wasn’t Katja whose blonde hair was cut in a stylish short undercut stacked bob. He grabbed her hair, exposing a slave collar while pulling her head back. OMG, he DID have a slave girl! Where was Katja? I wondered as I scanned the yard and windows looking for her.

“Deep throat it, slut. I want your nose buried in my pubic hair, my sweet little slave girl,” Jim groaned huskily.

Then Jim roughly face fucked her as she gagged on his large cock. At one point, he held her head to his crotch with his shaft buried deep down her throat. From my rickety perch, I could see her struggling, but he didn’t seem to care. I mean, it was only some slave girl whose comfort was irrelevant to powerful men like Jim. Their needs always came first.

I have needs too. Stifling a moan, I feel flushed, my nipples are like hard little diamonds as I roll them in my fingers. Now I feel an urgency to reach into my dripping panties and cup my mons. I snaked my hand down under my skirt into my panties, burrowing my fingers into my seeping kitty. I let out a little gasp as I realize how soaked my pussy is. I hadn’t been this aroused in months, no years. What was happening to me?

Jim grasped her hair in his hand pulling her off his cock. The poor slave girl was gasping for breath with spittle dripping from her chin. I tried to make out her face but between her hair and poor lighting I couldn’t.

“Slut, get on that pool chair. Face down with your skanky slave ass sticking up.”

Happily, the slave girl gushed, “Yes, Master.”

Moving quickly, the slave scrambled into position. I still couldn’t make out her face as she was looking away from me but could make out the presence of a brand on her left buttock. It was too dark to see it clearly.

“Thwack!”

The slave girl shrieked in surprise. Damn, he just spanked her hard right on the brand for the fun of it.

“Thwack!”

“He did it again!” I thought, as I squeezed my thighs together trying to quench the throbbing in my loins.

That horny slave girl responded by moaning like a bitch in heat while wiggling her firm ass in the air teasing her master, begging for more. What a slut! I cringed, realizing my own hypocrisy in being turned on by the same action and some part of me desperately wanting to be her at this moment in time. But I wasn’t a slut like her, I was a respectable free woman forced to watch their fun from afar.

Jim’s impressive saliva-coated penis glistened in the moonlight as he lined it up with her womb. Then he plunged that big cock deep into her pussy, bottoming out in the first brutal thrust that left the slave girl groaning with joy as she frantically started polishing her pearl. After a brief pause, he started stroking his cock in and out of her. At first, it was gentle and loving, then quickly picking up intensity until he was pile-driving her hard as she squealed in delight. They were going at it hot and heavy. I couldn’t believe it, that little slut was pushing back, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her hand was a blur now as she massaged her clitty. Jim was a machine fucking that slave girl hard for a man his age. Already, by the sounds of it, she was on the cusp of an incredible orgasm.

Oh my god, how I wanted to be her right now, getting my brains fucked out. It was my date night after all. I had my head leaning over the fence straining to see better, either of them could see me if they carefully looked my way. Suddenly, I feel exposed peering over the fence, which turns me on even more than I already am. There I was teetering on the chair pinching my nipple with my left hand while furiously polishing my own sloppy wet pearl with my right. Somehow, without consciously realizing it, I had pushed my panties down, so they were around my knees as I felt a massive climax building deep in my core.

That should be me right now, my husband’s little submissive slave girl getting shafted by a big hard cock. I stood on the wobbly chair mesmerized by the vision unfolding before my eyes all the while becoming that slut. Wanting to be her, no needing to be her. Imagining the wondrous sensations, she was feeling from that thrusting shaft. Becoming her in my mind, living vicariously through the frenzied fucking she so clearly enjoyed.

“Whack!”

“Slut, are you ready?”

The poor girl groaned in pleasure, “Yes, master.”

“Whack!”

Jim spanked her again, ordering, “Cum for me slut!”

And boy did she ever, squealing in glee erupting into what looked and sounded like an absolutely incredible orgasm.

“Fuck,” I groaned, joining her as my own orgasm exploded lost in my fantasy and the sluttiness of what I was doing. Abandoning myself to the throes of my own frenzy, I lost my balance falling off the chair onto the lawn with my feet tangled in my panties somehow still rubbing out my own climax, trying to make it last longer. In the background, I could hear them still going at it. Thankfully, they had not heard me.

“Harder Master, Harder!” the slut begged, complementing the rhythmic slap, slap, slap, slap, of Jim’s body smacking into her ass as he pounded her slave pussy.

There I was lying on the ground, catching my breath, needing more just like the slave girl next door, so I went at it again. Freeing my right foot from my panties I brought my knees up and open so I could touch myself properly. I started making little circles around my clit with the pussy juice drenched fingers of my right hand and rolling my nipple with the other, all while trying not to make any noise to avoid discovery.

Why am I laying half naked on the lawn in my own backyard, diddling myself while listening to my neighbor fuck his slave girl? I was worried that either my neighbor could hear me, or Chris could wander out and catch me at any moment. Oh God, how I wanted Chris to catch me and fuck me. This danger left me feeling delectably exposed and vulnerable, turning me on even more than I already was. Weirdly, I found it more arousing listening to them go at it while imagining what they were doing instead of peeking over the fence and watching them.

The slave girl started periodically making little high-pitched cries and I envisaged myself bent over like her, lost in a sexual nirvana as I pushed back onto the hard shaft plowing my depths. In my mind, I had become that slave girl on the cusp of erupting all over my master’s hard cock. The thought made me gush and whimper; I moved my fingers along my moist slit teasing the entrance to my womb before pushing them in, all while circling my clit with my thumb.

I heard the slap, slap, slap of Jim thrusting into the slave’s buttocks as the slave girl’s high-pitched squeals increased in intensity. I felt his fingers digging into my hips holding me in place as the slap, slap, slap became my master thrusting into me. Master’s grunts and groans of passion were so guttural and primal, it affected me as I started yipping with joy moving closer to my own intense explosion.

“I’m almost there, master,” cried out the slut. “Harder, pleeaaassse.”

Damn, Jim was a stud. Somehow, he found another gear picking up the pace. I could hear him pile driving her hard! And so, did I, with three fingers plunging into my overflowing pussy while massaging my nubbin. The combination of my current reality and fantasy made me press down onto my digits as they instinctively work their way to my g-spot. I felt myself getting wetter around my fingers as they found that delicious spot, I ground my fingertips against it now.

I heard the slave girl’s voice dripping with need, shrilly squealing, “Master, can I cum now? Please Master, please, let me cum.”

Hearing the slave girl’s desperate pleas on the other side of the fence brought me so close to losing control myself because those cries for relief were also mine, but I knew I needed to wait for her release. I couldn’t let loose without my sexual partner on the other side of the fence joining me in my bliss.

The slave’s little outbursts became more sustained, and her voice needy as she let out a low moan. Waiting for our master’s permission that he so cruelly continued to withhold. How had I become beholden to his commands already? It was as if the slave girl and I were one being. I bit my lip hard, stopping from joining her in her pleas for relief. Why, why was he taking so long I wondered all while my pussy clamped down on the fingers deep in my womb massaging my G-spot. How was I holding it in? I needed to cum, now!

In a deep authoritative voice, Jim boomed, “Cum for me now, slut!”

“Yes, master,” we groaned in unison.

And we did! Boy did we ever, both finding sexual nirvana in the process from the sounds of it. I was rolling in the grass under the starlit sky and the full moon in my frenzy while listening to Jim erupt filling that howling slave girl with his seed. Quivering and spasming on the ground, riding out my orgasm until it was no more. Lying there looking up at the stars wishing that was me on the other side of the fence, wanting to trade places with the slave girl next door. Catching my breath, I decided to just lay there not making any noise until they were done.

“Clean it off slut,” Jim ordered.

I could hear slurping; she was sucking him clean. How naughty and dirty. I started diddling myself again after a short pause wondering what their combined fluids tasted like on Jim’s leaky cock. Why did I want his slimy cock in my mouth? But I did, I had a sudden craving for it. Why couldn’t that be me? I felt a deep longing in the pit of my soul wishing that was me, a slave girl cleaning off my master’s softening cock. Sucking the last of my master’s juice from his penis, savoring the flavor while looking lovingly up at him like a good slave girl. Oh my god, I was consumed with jealousy towards that slave girl wanting, no needing the sex she was getting.

“Whack!”

“Get inside slut and get yourself cleaned off. There will be hell to pay if you leak on the floor again, move it, slave girl,” ordered Jim.

I heard them go inside as I lay on my back, my panties around my left ankle, skirt up over my waist, my right breast hanging out as I masturbated dreaming that I was Chris’s slave girl until I lost myself in yet another smaller unfulfilling frenzy. As I came down from my sexual high, I saw the wet mess I've made of myself and couldn't help but be impressed. It has been a long time since I was this aroused, although God knows what it means about what I rationally want. I had never fantasized about being a slave girl like this before. When my orgasm subsided, I stripped nude and dove into the pool to cool off.

The water was refreshing but did nothing to put out the smoldering fire between my legs. Still horny and feeling mischievous I stepped out of the pool, walking into the family room stark naked dripping water interrupting Chris watching the highlights from his silly game.

“Hey stud, wanna fuck a water nymph? I’m wet everywhere.” I purred in my sexiest voice as I ran a hand down, lewdly cupping my mons, leaving no doubt as to where I was wettest.

Grinning Chris picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder he carried me up the stairs to our bedroom. Somehow, he got out of his shoes and pants along the way. Throwing me onto the bed he jumped on top of me while ripping off his shirt. Putting my legs over his shoulders he pushed his meaty cock into my still sopping wet pussy and gave me the hard pounding I so desperately needed. It was hard fast frantic passionate sex that had both of us quickly erupting in intense climaxes.

The whole time I fantasized that I was that slave girl next door being fucked by my Master Chris. Being dominated by a strong man making me do all those nasty things a slave girl does for her master but a good girl like me would never consider. Chris had a take-charge can-do attitude in the bedroom and was more than up for the challenge for what I needed right now.

When we were done, I slipped down gently kissing him from his neck to his loins, taking as much of my pleasantly surprised husband’s softening cock as I could fit into my mouth while relishing the flavor of our combined fluids. A wildfire of arousal ignited by this dirty deed coursed through my loins. Something I had never done before but now enjoyed immensely this evening as I resuscitated him for a surprising round two. Something else we hadn’t done in years. This was definitely an acquired taste.

This time he took his time exploring my body with his lips, moving between my thighs before lovingly thrusting into my molten core. Our lips met in a passionate kiss as he slowly moved his rigid shaft in and out of my being creating a delicious friction. The wondrous sensations from him dragging his shaft across my G-spot as he slowly withdrew sent jolts of pleasure to my clitoris; only to feel him violently thrust back in causing me to pant in need. Soon the pace quickened as both of us moved closer to our next explosion.

Suddenly, Chris pulled out, flipping me panting onto my knees, spreading my legs wide, and pushing my head into the mattress as pulled my arms behind my back, holding my wrists in the iron grip of his left hand. He spanked my butt with his hard cock a few times demonstrating who was in charge before he lined up his shaft with my opening. Purposefully rubbing it along my moist slit, sending shudders down my spine as I moaned needily, teasing me with what he was about to do to me.

I always feel so vulnerable from the loss of control in this position, with my face pinned to the mattress with my sex wide open for his enjoyment. It’s just so sexy hot. Now I was that erotic slave girl next door about to get plundered by her master; not that I wanted to admit it to Chris, having refused to role play master/slave with him in the past. I started mewling like a bitch in slave heat while wiggling my ass in the air begging for more like I watched that slave girl next door. Would he spank me like Jim had his slave girl? Oh, I wanted Chris to spank me. I wanted it bad, really bad. But not too hard, I mean that could hurt. What had gotten into me?

“Spank me, please spank me,” I moaned, not believing the words escaping my mouth. Never having asked for a spanking before. The only time Chris ever proposed it I bit his head off just like I did when he suggested I play slave girl for him. Like that would ever happen. Good girls like me didn’t get spanked like this by their husbands. But tonight, I wasn’t a “good girl”; instead, I was consumed by a feral longing for the feel of his hand on my rump.

“What?” asked Chris, clearly surprised by my request.

Panting with need I giggled playfully sounding a lot like the slave girl next door, “Please spank me … Chris, just do it, spank me.”

“Swap.”

Chris gave me a half-hearted love tap on my right buttock. Not painful at all, it didn’t even sting a little, although I really enjoyed the erotic feel of his hand landing on my ass with all the naughty implications. That being said, it still left me wanting for more.

“Honey, maybe a little harder,” I whispered, wondering if I would regret this, hoping it didn’t hurt too badly.

Hesitation evident in his voice, he asked, “Are you sure?

“Yes,” I hissed, suddenly needing this.

“Whap!”

The slight sting from his hand turned into jolts of delightful pleasure emanating throughout my body, creating an intense need for more. Is this how that slave girl felt? Oh damn, I liked it, wanting more even though Chris was clearly holding back not wanting to really hurt me.

“Spank me, more …” I moaned, wiggling my posterior enticingly.

“Whap!”

Oh God, that felt weirdly good as the heat spread throughout my body.

Huskily I groaned, “Again, Chris, more, please.”

“Whap!”

Pinned face down, my body was overheating with sexual tension. I could feel his engorged rod rubbing against my slippery opening. My ass was on fire as was my pussy. Enough, I knew what I had to have right now as I wiggled my ass some more while pushing back on his cock.

“Whap!”

In a needy voice I begged, “Fuck me, … now. Oh god, please fuck me.”

Chris assumed his role well, teasing me with his cock, slapping my ass with it like I was some kind of slut. Was this how he treated the overheated pleasure sluts he regularly fucked? Why was I enjoying being treated like a collared slave girl so much?

“Whap!”

“I’ll give you what you need when I am satisfied you are ready,” he replied, asserting full control over our lovemaking; no, we would not be making love, this was going to be pure animalistic fucking. And I wanted it oh so bad.

I couldn’t believe how much I enjoyed submitting to Chris like this. My body was on fire, the heat from each blow to my ass sending waves of pleasure cascading through my body. Chris was holding back, not inflicting any real pain while allowing me to live out the illusion of being on the receiving end of a spanking. My tingling nipples and throbbing pussy needed one thing that Chris was denying me; while demonstrating his dominance over me. Suddenly it dawned on me what he wanted, consuming me with another wave of arousal.

Lost in my lust, I couldn’t believe what I was saying when I whined, “Please fuck me Chris, fuck your slut, use me for your pleasure.”

“Whap!”

“Whose pussy is this?” he queried in an authoritative tone that left no doubt as to the answer.

“No, please not that,” I whimpered, trying to maintain a shred of dignity as he slowly continued my spanking, the whole time teasing me with his cock.

“Whap!”

“Tell me, whose pussy is this? Admit it,” he groaned, grinding his cock into my ass, rubbing it between my buttocks fueling my arousal.

Oh my god, I could feel his hairy balls slapping against my leaking pussy lips.

“Whap!”

“Say it,” he ordered.

“Whap!”

With the waves of passion from the blows reverberating through my body, he lightly rubbed the big mushroom head of his cock through my weeping labia. Mocking me, demonstrating his superior control while knowing how desperately I needed him to impale me on his shaft. I caved, giving him what I knew he wanted to hear, or was it what I wanted to admit, at this point I’d do just about anything.

Mimicking what I thought a horny slave girl should sound like, I begged, “It’s your pussy. Please sir, please fuck your pussy, I need your hard cock in your slutty cunt.”

And he did. Oh boy did he ever. Thrusting his entire length into me, releasing his passion; frantically pounding his shaft into my liquefied womb while pinning me to the bed. I was on fire thrusting back at him needily just like that slave girl had to Jim; desperately I massaged my nubbin, seeking relief while he pummeled me with an unquenched hunger until Chris slapped my hand out of the way assuming ownership over my clitoris.

In my mind, I had become that slave girl next door fucking her master, but my master was Chris, not Jim. I am not sure who came first, all I know was that it felt like time stopped with me in the height of my frenzy, Chris aggressively polishing my skittle as we rode out this most exquisite orgasm together with me cumming while pretending that I was Chris’s collared slave girl for the first time in my life. And it was so … so exhilarating in a strange way.

When my frenzy subsided, I found myself face down laying on the bed with Chris panting on top of me; his deflating cock slowly sliding from my womb as his seed leaked out. Somehow, I found the energy to crawl down, taking his messy cock in my mouth and once again cleaned him. Relishing the flavor of our combined fluids like never before. This time, I was unable to resuscitate him for more. When I had licked him clean like I imagined the slave girl next door would Jim, I moved back up into his loving arms where we cuddled.

“We need to do that more often,” he sighed, sounding exhausted.

“Yes, yes we do,” I giggled, falling asleep in my husband’s arms without even brushing my teeth to get rid of that yucky semen flavor. Wrapped in Chris’s strong embrace I suddenly began feeling hot all over, beginning to sweat in a panic at the gravity of what had just happened. Oh my god, I had just role played, at least in my mind, as a slave with my master, my husband.

What had gotten into me, making me behave this way? Could it happen again? Did I want it to happen again? I couldn’t let this happen again, or could I, confused that I might even want something more intense. I had to admit, as we say in Texas, it was nice being rode hard and put away wet once again.

To be continued.

[Tori_Vixxen]

Jeepers that was hot. Im so wet I look like ive wet myself. Fuck that was hot.

[Jim927]

This was a very hot start to what hope is an ever hotter story. Well done. I can’t wait for the next chapter.

Jim

[Belinda]

Marvelous piece of work. I can't wait to see where this goes. Have a wonderful Forth of July.

[Mr. Smith]

Thanks for the positive response. I wanted to start this story off with a bang so to speak before delving into a plot. There must be a plot right? The second part of this chapter introduces Avvy and her family. Right now I am stuck in a rabbit hole flashback where Avvy's sister takes Avvy down into the family kennel/basement/dungeon when Avvy turns eighteen to demonstrate how to properly discipline their father's new pleasure slut.

I've always wanted to write about what happens to a Mounty Holyoke College student, an all female institution famous for abolitionist lesbians, decides to come to Texas to participate in demonstrations protesting slavery. What could go wrong? Hmmm?

[Gortmundy]

Great story. No doubt much fun and games to be had in future chapters.

[Tori_Vixxen]

[quote="Mr. Smith" post_id=6274 time=1688496117 user_id=459
I've always wanted to write about what happens to a Mounty Holyoke College student, a all female institution famous for abolitionist lesbians, decides to come to Texas to participate in demonstrations protesting slavery. What could go wrong? Hmmm?
[/quote]

It sounds fun, but id rather just see them as straight feminists or bisexuals. My lesbian friends get messages suggest they need corrective rape constantly and the thought is far from hot (to me at least)

[Mr. Smith]

@Tori_Vixxon

This story will try to avoid the "corrective rape" that you mention as that is not sexy in my mind. In theory a slave doesn't have a choice or given a preference who their sexual partner is as that is determined by the owner. A combination of obedience training and regular injections of Horny Juice have most female slaves toeing the line regardless of their preferences although some will enjoy certain activities more than others. Remember, just like not all male owners are dominants, not all owners are men or cisgender, there are Mistresses that own both genders.

Most civil disobedience offenses are misdemeanors resulting in public corporal punishment and public display in Texas, not any period of enslavement. One must commit a more serious offense for a penal enslavement which is possible.