Chapter One
Bree Wells was a gorgeous young bitch. That’s how she liked to think of herself. By
sixteen she’d already had the body to make the boys drool, and a lot of men, too. But she
waited until she was eighteen to do anything about it. A week past her birthday, she
started lining them up like dominoes. The latest target was Justin, captain of the crew
team at her high school. Eighteen-year-old Justin was a beautiful hunk of manhood, lean
to the bone, sculpted muscle and throbbing hard cock. It took all of five minutes to
snare him with her tight ass in a short skirt. Bree’s long, ash blond hair, soft as silk,
didn’t hurt either.
Brianna wasn’t model skinny—she had just enough flesh to make you know she was a woman.
Bree had curves, something a man could grab onto. And she didn’t exercise them so much
that she was all muscle, either. White skin, tits that were full, firm, and bold, hips
that made the mouth water, that’s what a man wanted and that’s what the budding young
siren delivered. Bree’s mother had taught her well. Since their father ran out on them
when she was three, forty-year-old Sadie Wells had made them a good living, playing off
the panting, drooling weaknesses of men in need of a stern, punishing hand.
Sadie was a freak as far as Brianna was concerned, what with her whips and chains, and
leather corsets, but in Justin’s case, Bree had decided to conduct a little experiment in
domination and pain. What did she care? It was Justin’s ass, not hers, that would pay
the price if anything went wrong. First, she got Justy to come over one afternoon after
school when she was going to be all by her lonesome, feeling so, so horny. It was a
Friday, which was the day Sadie went down the coast to visit one of her “friends,” for his
weekly session.
Brianna greeted him at the door in a little rag of a T-shirt, cut away to show her taut
belly and sassy button, and scooped down to reveal most of her very, ripe cleavage. The
cutoff shorts were even more illegal than the shirt. To top it off, she had her hair up
in a banana clip, in a kind of haphazard fashion, as if she’d just rolled out of bed.
That was all it took; she didn’t need makeup at her age, something her mother was jealous
of.
“I know I look like shit,” she pouted, fishing for a compliment. “This is all I could
find to wear. That bitch Sadie forgot to do my laundry today.”
Of course, that was a lie; she had a closet full of clean clothes. The purpose of this
outfit was to convert the mighty sports hero of Jones High into Brianna’s personal fuck
toy. From the look on his face, and the hard lump in the crotch of his jeans, she didn’t
think that would take much.
Justin tripped all over his tongue to disagree with her, just as she knew he would.
“Are you kidding me, Bree? You look totally hot. You’re like—unbelievable.”
“I’m not so sure,” she sighed, with mock humility. “Kelly Hughes is hotter, don’t you
think?”
Kelly was the auburn-haired head cheerleader, regal and sensual, with the looks of a
cover girl. A woman like that would marry well, or maybe find her own career, so long as
she didn’t get a rep for having sex too soon. Personally, Bree hated her guts. As for
having a reputation herself, she welcomed it.
“Kelly’s a dog next to you, baby.” Justin was reaching out for her, like a little kid,
mesmerized.
She slapped his hand away. Touching her body was a privilege this boy would have to
earn. “What about Monique, then?”
Justin swallowed hard. Pain was etched on his face. This one was a little harder,
because Monique was the sweet little French foreign exchange student who was supposed to
be his girlfriend. It was a betrayal of her for Justin to even be here and they both knew
it.
“Baby, she’s pretty—you’re both pretty,” he mumbled, unable to keep eye contact. “Can we
go inside now?”
She blocked the way, her hand on the doorjamb. “No, Justin, not till I’m satisfied.”
“S-satistfied?”
What a dumb puppy, she thought. All that masculinity concealed under his t-shirt and
jeans and still he was clueless. “I need to know where I stand. I’m not a piece of ass,
Justin. I’m a woman. I have needs.”
“I know you do, Brianna, and I swear I’ll. . .”
She cut him off with a cold slap across his cheek. “Don’t fuck with me, Justin. You
want this, or not?”
Taunting him, Bree unzipped the shorts, tugging them low enough to reveal the top of her
thong-covered bush. She was moist already, enjoying the power of her sex, and there were
drops soaking through the fabric, enough to drive the boy wild. There was a tattoo on her
pelvis as well, a sun with shooting flames. Half of it was visible, off to the right of
her ill-disguised vagina.
His mouth hung open. He wanted it, all right, and at this moment, Bree doubted there
was much he wouldn’t do to get it. “B-bree, don’t. . .” he looked nervously over his
shoulder, scanning the cul-de-sac of the upper middle class subdivision in which she
lived. “Someone could see you.”
Brianna made motions to close the door in his face. “Bye, Justie-poo,” she sing-songed.
“Call me when you’re all grown up.”
“Wait,” he cried as she blew him a mocking kiss. “I am grown up. Don’t tease like
this.”
Bree considered his plea, hands on her hips, crotch still half exposed. “If you mean
that, then do something for me.”
“Yes, Bree?”
“Break up with Monique.”
Shock registered across his handsome face. “Y-you can’t be serious?”
“Serious as a heart attack, dude, and just so you don’t try and bullshit me, you have to
do it right now, over the phone, so I can hear. It has to be something spectacular, too,
so you can’t go back on what you said later. Call her a Frenchie whore and hang up on
her, something really rude like that.”
Justin was speechless. His reaction, in turn, was more than a little surprising to
Brianna herself. Honestly, Bree hadn’t any idea she could mess with another human being’s
head this much just by teasing him with sex. If he was any kind of man, he’d have told
her to go to hell. It was time to push him over the edge, she decided. Grabbing him by
the shirt, she pulled him inside and slammed the door behind her. Immediately she backed
him to the wall and dove into his pocket for the cell phone she knew was there.
“Dial,” she commanded, putting it in his hand.
For insurance, she pinned him, her softly alluring, five foot two body molded to his
against the stucco. An inch to the left, the picture of grandma and grandpa scowled at
them. Bree was loving it, rubbing all over him, using her sex, her boobs, her hands, legs
and bare feet to make the six-foot athlete her total prisoner. Why did her mother use
ropes and chains, she wondered, when you could keep these creatures so docile with a few
words, a look, a touch?
Sadie was old and ugly, maybe that was it. Forty freaking years under her belt. Pretty
for her age and still fit, sure, but still pushing against the limits of time. A fine
young stud like this wouldn’t want her. None of her boyfriends did, which is why Sadie
hated her so much. It was one of many things the two lone residents of this ten-room
house fought about. Single working mother and only child, both much too horny for their
own good.
Bree had to keep from laughing. He was holding the phone, looking like he’d just been
hit by a freight train.
“You gonna dial, Justy,” she purred, “or am I gonna have to play all by myself?”
Play with herself. That was it. She’d torture him by making him watch her masturbate,
while he made the call to end his legitimate relationship with pretty, innocent Monique,
that little foreign bitch she couldn’t stand.
“You’re either in or out,” she teased at his neck with her lips. “And if you’re out,
tell me now, so I can throw your ass back onto the street.”
Justin made a gasping sound, pitiful and deep throated as she trailed her long,
manicured nails over the swell in his jeans. He looked ready to blow his load already.
Taunting him further, she teased his crotch. Bree liked the contrast of worn denim blue
under hot pink fingertips. It was a good color for her. Kind of little girlish, but also
womanly enough to confuse the shit out of a man.
“What’s it going to be, Justy?”
She was sucking at his neck, pressing her sex hard. He was at her mercy. Of course, if
she wasn’t too careful, he’d come in his pants.
“Oh, god,” he moaned, “I’ll do it. I’ll call her.”
Words to her ears.
“Good.” She took him by the belt buckle and dragged him to the stairs. “Let’s go up to
my room, where we can have a little more privacy.”
He stumbled up after her, all his power and size brought to naught by her skillful
manipulations. She was a natural, dominant, Bree was, and if she didn’t have such total
contempt for her whore of a mother, she’d be tempted to follow her into the same business.
She’d certainly do better, with her hot young body and deep blue eyes, that’s a given.
She had daddy’s eyes, and his dimples. She had his brains, too, and charm. Daddy was a
good and clever man, and he’d be here still if Sadie hadn’t run him off with her bizarre
ways.
“Have a seat,” she pushed Justin down onto her princess bed amid the stuffed animals and
dollies she still liked to keep out as a reminder of her lost childhood.
Justin landed on his cute ass, looking up at her comically, a testosterone giant in a
frilly pink estrogen world.
“I hope you’re gonna be worth my while,” said Bree, doing her best to keep him off
balance and insecure. “Are you a good lay?”
“I—I think so,” the macho boy stuttered.
Bree knew he and the others on the rowing team bragged about their conquests, but
deep down, they hadn’t a clue if they were satisfying their female partners.
“Girls fake it, you know.” She lifted the T-shirt over her head. She wore no bra.
Her nipples were little peaks on her already pert mounds. At eighteen, she was in her
prime, defying gravity and thumbing her nose at time. “They pretend a boy does it for
them. How many girls you been with? And don’t lie.”
He was mesmerized by her superb breasts. A tiny line of drool indicated how bad he
wanted to be sucking them. “Four,” he croaked, quoting a much smaller number than was
floating at school. The only one who didn’t know his reputation, it seemed, was the
little French girl. Poor, sweet Monique who took so much ribbing for being from France,
girl, land of French kissing and supposedly easy sex.
“You’re such a slut,” she laughed, cupping her globes enticingly. “I can suck my
own tits, you know. Want to see?”
Justin bit his lip. This having to watch without interacting was clearly killing
him. She’d only just begun to torture him, however.
“Here goes.” Bree was fairly athletic and limber to boot. She pushed up the ample
flesh, pressing the tip of her nipple between her full red lips. He looked at her
forlornly as she began to suckle herself like a baby.
“Get dialing, baby,” she popped the tit from her mouth. Bree was at the edge of the
bed, now, between his splayed legs, skinning down her shorts. She was standing over him,
knees right against the bed in a position of complete power and intimidation. All it
remained for her to do was lean over to her nightstand open the drawer and pull out the
Enforcer and she would have him at her total mercy.
“Like it?” she wanted to know as his eyes feasted over the huge dildo. “I’ll show
you how deep it goes…once you make your little call.”
He never took his eyes off the sexy woman in front of him as he dialed Monique’s
number. Bree was teasing her hot, wet hole with the dildo, putting the tip of the huge
plastic cock just in far enough to part her swollen labia.
“H-hi…Monique?” The look on his face indicated he had been hoping she wouldn’t
answer.
Bree took out the dildo and licked the tip. It was covered in her own glistening
juices.
“I-I’m good, baby. How are you? Huh? Of course I miss you…”
Justin was flat on his back, right where she’d pushed him down, his view of her more
than a little explicit. Bree wasn’t making it easy for him to concentrate with the show
she was putting on.
“What? Sure I love you, but listen, I need to talk…”
Monique wasn’t letting him get a word in edge-wise. Bree shook her head and waved a
finger, indicating he was being a bad boy for letting her drone on. With the other hand
she was pushing the plastic cock in and out of herself deeper now, just the way he so
desperately needed to do with his own. His delays were costing him greatly, and she
wanted him to know it. With each passing moment, his fucking rights were disappearing.
“Um, yeah,” he swallowed, red faced. “You know I want to do that with you, too.”
The little frog bitch was making him talk sexy.
“Sure, hon, that would be great,” he tried to keep his tone neutral in front of the
looming Brianna.
Bree answered with a slurp as she stuck the juice soaked dildo back in her mouth,
slowly easing it in and out.
“I—I would spread syrup all over you,” he was saying in a hushed whisper, like
Brianna couldn’t hear a foot away. “And then I’d lick it all off.”
“Oh, for god’s sake,” Brianna snarled spitting out the dildo, “give me the fucking
phone.”
“Bree, no. . .”
Shed snatched it from his hand and tucked it up between her shoulder and neck before
he could resist. “Monique, honey, is that you?” Her hands were working at Justin’s belt
buckle furiously. The motions seemed to pacify him for the moment. “It’s Brianna, from
school. How you doing? Great. Me, too. Listen, if you don’t mind, I’ll cut to the
chase. What Justin was calling you about was to tell you that he’s through with you. He
thinks you’re a little Frenchie whore and he wants to be with a real American girl like
me. You can understand that, I’m sure? No hard feelings?”
Justin was powerless to resist as she yanked down the zipper and plucked his cock
from the opening in his briefs. Wrapping her sharply tapered nails around the vulnerable
shaft, she rendered him her complete hostage. “Oh, dear,” she sighed, holding the phone
away from her ear. “Will you talk to Monique for me? I think she’s having a hard time
believing me.”
Justin took back the phone. The poor boy was sweating bullets. Bree traced her
nails down the vein on the underside of his dick, letting him know who was boss.
“Monique,” he croaked. “Let me explain.”
Bree replaced her hand with her mouth. Gulping him halfway, she teased lightly at
first, breathing gently on his heated skin, but then, abruptly, she bit down on his long
shaft, making it clear that there was nothing to explain. “Tell her you’re mine now,” she
said.
“I—I’m with Brianna,” he told her.
She slapped his penis. “You’re not with me, you belong to me. You’re my bitch. Say
that.”
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