The Trophy, Segment Nine

This will be the final posted segment. As noted, the full story is available from Lulu.

Happy New Year

Not sure what is next or when.

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A slumbering Mrs. Casperson is awakened, the lock of the cage door clicking. After watching the steamy love making for nearly an hour, the forceful woman of color offered a high pitched shriek of ecstasy and a convincing squeeze of her thighs. Master Arlen grunted, no doubt spending copiously.

A weary Mrs. Grayson rose from the bed, quickly slipped the hood over the bald head then returned to where the copulating duo seemed to both pass out, Mrs. Grayson slumping to lie at Master Arlen’s side.

It was only then that Mrs. Casperson allowed herself to close her eyes, another night of observing her husband and Master revel in continuous carnal delight finally concluding.  

Shaking her head as best as the Rigid Stock allowed, her welling tears were absorbed by the thick black cloth. Then Mrs. Casperson let sleep overcome, the emotionally and physically exhausting day finally ending.

But now the cage door lowers, the design such that a portion of the top folds away as well. The hood is slipped away. Eyes adjust. In the dimness she notes it is Master Arlen, propping up the lowered section of the cage such that it forms a low seat.

“Thought you’d like a little taste, dear,” Master Arlen whispers in seating himself.

“Please no, Arlen... ah... sir.”

“Oh but you must. I insist on you sharing in the joy. Mrs. Grayson is an accomplished lover and there is so much for you to partake.”

Helplessly bound, unable to move her head other than to slightly twist, Mrs. Casperson has no manner of resisting as the moist well worn appendage is presented to waiting lips.

“Clean me... it’s your wifely responsibility... in fact it’s about the only responsibility you have.... other than to pose for me.”

The notion... the deed... disgusts. Mrs. Casperson’s nose detects the scent of vaginal essence, the musky odor of perspiration. The penis remains coated... semen, sweat, the spendings of the concupiscent Mrs. Grayson as well.

“You know I don’t like to...”

“To orally gratify, yes. I learned that on our wedding night, remember, dear. Matter of fact you don’t much like engaging in any sexual frolicking, do you? I married a Princess... to be pampered and adored. And I do... do I not? Lots of time and effort assuring my beautiful mate is properly displayed... properly cared for... never to be sullied by being put under the penis.

“But I think you’ll accommodate your husband... just a little.”

Mrs. Casperson feels the manly plums of her husband press to her forehead. A hand reaches pinching closed her nostrils. When she next draws a breath, forced to take air through her mouth, an odorous semi engorged penis greets her lips, thrusting inward.        

“No biting, dear, otherwise you’ll lose that pretty smile. It’s best not to make any dental modifications necessary,” the ominous words pleasantly proclaimed.

‘Have I a choice?’ Mrs. Casperson quickly concludes ‘no’.

“Good girl. Such a kindness,“ the mocking words coming as the lips purse, the tongue swishes. “This could be your only household chore, my dear. And it may be that Mrs. Grayson could use some attention as well. You may well enjoy her taste too. She takes care of you... would you not want to take care of her?”

The thought brings more disgust. Particularly alarming is Mrs. Grayson’s overt bisexuality, relishing every moment in the basement salon... bathing, massaging naked female flesh.... then feathering a neglected quim... bringing to the very edge of orgasm.

Yes, there is no doubt that, given the opportunity, Mrs. Grayson would also lower the cage door and sit. 

The penis stiffens, an engorging tip pressing to the back of the throat. Mrs. Casperson, well aware of her husband’s endowment, begins to panic. Not orally accomplished, she slightly gags, quickly realizing a fully erect Master Arlen would choke her if not offering some refuge. She shakes her head as best she can, murmuring indiscernible words, beseeching mercy.

Arlen Jacobs Casperson intuitively understands, slightly retreating.

“We will have to better acclimate you my dear. It’s... well... a required skill set for a woman of your ilk.”

There comes a thrust... as a demonstration of his power, her vulnerability... followed by choking. Then a hand reaches and the organ is withdrawn. Mrs. Casperson closes her eyes in shame. Once again becoming an object, on this occasion a receptacle for the remnants of love making.

Still she feels a distant sense of feminine satiation. Having watched as husband and lover brought each other intense gratification, attention at last comes to her. She tries to buck her hips, frottage against the replicas of her husband’s penis so deeply penetrating her.  

Why?

It is futile, her chastity belt so tightly secured. Still she wants more... desperately needs more.

As the cage door is lifted, there comes a need to know as well.

“Why Arlen? Why does it have to be like this?”

“How else am I to adore you, dear? You’re to be on a pedestal... to be shown. Such beauty is to be idolized.”

“But I so much need... you know... attention... full attention. And I’m getting fatter... and my nipples! It feels like... well... someone is pinching them. They’re going to be horribly shaped. The cones... they’re too tight! Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can. And there are some practicalities to your... ah... enhancements. And in terms of the attention you think you so desperately need, you’ll have that when I breed you... utilize more of Mrs. Grayson’s skills.”