8 comments/ 92723 views/ 42 favorites Barry's Sluts Ch. 02: Emily By: LordOfHell For new readers, know that this story is a sequel to both "Ariadne's Dreams" and "Barry's Sluts: Suzanna", which are available on my authors' page. I do my best to make each story stand on its own, but if you want to understand some of the slight references or know the history of the characters, I suggest reading those stories first. For those who read and enjoyed those series, know that this story bounces perspectives a lot; I have accumulated such a large cast of characters that I sometimes feel compelled to flesh out more than one point-of-view. Of course, I always make sure I keep things clear and understandable for my audience. As always, I hope you enjoy it, and I welcome all ratings, comments and suggestions. I tend to listen to every ounce of feedback I receive. ****** "Fuck no." Barry's voice hesitated on the other line, his breath calm and clear, but heavy with confustion, even before he answered. "Say what?" "Essentially, I said 'Fuck no, I won't marry you, Shithead.' But I abridged it to just 'Fuck no'." Rather than seeming offended, his next response was more bewilderment than anything. "And why the hell not?" "Are you a retard or something?" Suzanna snapped. "You disappear on me for months, you get some old cougar pregnant with two of your kids in the meantime, you buy my business of employment—effectively making yourself my boss—and then just ask me to marry you? Over the phone, no less? What the fuck do you think I am, stupid?" The line was silent on both ends for a heartbeat. Then, Suzanna continued. "You owe me at least another fuck first. You've been fucking your sweet old momma ever since you left me, and what is she? Over forty now? Hmph. Not much challenge for a fit young boy like you is it? You might be out of practice, so how do I even know you can keep up with a girl my age?" "Hah. You've got a point there," Barry agreed. "Fuck right I do," Suzanna said triumphantly. By the next morning, Barry had cleared up that little misunderstanding with a third load of cum into Suzanna's holes. ****** Though he hadn't even announced his visit, that didn't stop Suzanna from expecting him. After picking up his car from a garage near the airport, Barry had driven straight to her place, directly after a 1700-mile flight. The moment he opened her door with his spare key, Suzanna was already eagerly waiting in bed . . . the bed they had once shared together for months . . . dressed in little beside a translucent pink teddy. Barry shed his clothes as he made a beeline for the room, slammed the door behind him and pointed to the floor. An instant later, Suzanna was on her knees, slobbering over his erect cock, ravenously devouring it like a starving child who hadn't eaten in weeks. "God, I've needed this," she purred desperately. "Don't you ever make me go this long without this again!" As always, she took the length his of shaft into her throat with no trouble, and the feeling of his head lightly stabbing her tonsils made her cum. Barry groaned pleasurably as he emptied himself in Suzanna's mouth, and she swallowed every drop of it. She then sucked and licked him back to hardness within minutes, and in mere nanoseconds, he ripped the teddy right off, threw the tattered rags to the floor, slammed Suzanna onto the bed with Herculean might, and plunked his cock into her pussy. She wrapped her arms and legs around his body, clinging to him with all her might, never letting him escape her again. She was moaning fiercely as Barry fucked her hard and mercilessly, exploring her mouth with his tongue even as his hips hammered their bodies into her mattress. Tasting his own cum inside of her mouth seemed to make him even more excited, and Barry fucked her with a fervor that was unsual—even for him. The bed quaked with the intensity of their fucking—no, of their love-making. Suzanna was hopelessly in love with this man, and his cock . . . his body . . . was the only one she couldn't live without. She may have fucked strangers on camera for a living, but only Barry satisfied her on both physical and emotional levels. Within minutes, he'd cum a second time, deep inside of her cunt. The fact that Suzanna hadn't even had her second orgasm yet would have been a problem with any other man, but not with Barry. The second he pulled his cock out of her oozing cunt, he flipped her body onto all fours with her ass raised toward him. Then his cock was right back inside and pounding away, without an ounce of hardness or stamina lost. In fact, the intensity of the fucking left her gasping for breath desperately, but Barry didn't even seem slightly winded. She clawed at the wall like an animal in heat while her lover slammed his hips into her again and again. She felt the entire length of his shaft as it slid effortlessly in and out of her narrow tunnel, stimulating every inch of her cunt. Barry grabbed her hips with ferocity, and quickly forewent any tenderness or mercy. He pounded her aggressively, roughly, forcing her to try and balance herself to avoid having her body slammed against the wall. The sudden violent thrusts caused her to begin screaming "Oh yes! Oh yes! Barry, my God, Barry!" as she let him do with her body what he wished. Finally, they both came at the same time, and Suzanna found herself so winded that she had to reluctantly deny Barry a fourth run. "Fuck! Hold up a minute," she gasped. "I . . . I at least need to catch my breath." Barry laughed. "Who can't keep up with who now, Ms. Chain-Smoker?" She clawed him playfully, her nails only creating a minor scratch on his chiseled, adamantine body. "Oh fuck you. I'm not that bad." But quickly she considered. "But, I can see that the way you fuck, I might have to quit. I refuse to have any excuse that'll keep your cock outside my pussy." As she stroked his handsome face, Suzanna purred lustfully, pleased that his time in Chicago hadn't affected his physical performance. No, that wasn't quite true—he was different . . . better. Even Barry used to get a bit winded after cumming twice in short succession, but now, he was able to continue fucking heartily even after that. She hated to admit it, but somehow, all of that incestuous fucking he'd done in the past year had actually improved him as a lover. For the first time in months, Suzanna found herself feeling envious of Barry's mother. How dare that slut get more out of Barry's magnificent cock than she did? She noted that he'd certainly put on some extra muscle—he not only boasted the cut physique that had made her mouth water months ago, but he was even more massive than before. He'd obviously been doing some lifting and training in his time away, and it only made her that much more excited to have him slamming his mass against hers over and over. He felt her hands exploring the extra pounds of muscle and smiled. "I've been taking to the gym lately. Building mass and taking up some boxing. Not surprising, considering how much I've always liked rough contact." He wasn't kidding—she knew Barry had played football in high school, and the best thing about when he fucked her was t that he treated her body roughly, but at the same time, knew exactly how to attend to all her most tender needs. His thrusting wasn't sweet or gentle; Barry fucked her like an animal fucked its bitch, with his hands gripped her body like claws holding her in place, not daring to let her go until he was finished with her. And yet, Barry picked up on her body language—he noticed when Suzanna's moaning increased, or when she shook as his head touched her g-spot. He knew how to make subtle adjustments to give her just what she needed to climax intensely, all the while fucking with pure reckless abandon. He knew just how to make her putty in his hands, and his ego wasn't hurt if she rubbed her clit and made herself cum while he penetrated her. Suzanna couldn't help but smile at the fact that this meant all of his "studying" had paid off. Barry had first met Suzanna because he wanted to learn "everything" there was to know about sex, and he was determined to become a sexologist—a professional expert in every field related to sex. He had begun to devote his entire life to exploring the fathoms of carnal pleasure, and unlocking the maximum experience to be gained from sensuality. As thought back on her long, hard climax, she could see that he was well on his way to doing just that. Finally, Suzanna pounced on top of him again, ready to ride him in a long, slow grind. As she gazed down at him, she took his hand gently and slipped each of his fingers into her mouth, one by one. Barry's other hand reached around and took a firm grip of her ass, pinching her flesh hard, until the pain made her moan. "Yes, Barry. I will." "You will, what?" he asked confusedly. "God, what do you think? I'll marry you, you idiot," she barked. Just saying those words electrified her, making her whole body tingle. "Uhgn . . . I don't ever want to lose you again." "To lose me, or my cock?" Barry questioned. "I don't want to lose either," she admitted. "I love to fuck you, Barry, but I love to be with you even more. I've missed you all this time, and I can't ever see you out of my life again." Tenderly, Barry reached up and drew her close to him, allowing her to lay her naked body against his, until her tits were smashed tightly against his chest. He kissed her lovingly, wrapping his arms around her waist as he came inside her a third time. ****** "So . . . what about your mother . . .?" Suzanna asked in the afterglow, their bodies pressed together, sharing mutual warmth. "This was her idea," he explained. "Ma doesn't want to be my wife. She just wants to be my slut." "Not that I can't see how they differ, but . . . why couldn't she just be both? Not legally because of your relation of course, but at least in spirit? Why would she want to share you with me?" "Well, it's a bit . . . complicated. Crazy as it sounds, Ma likes being just 'property'. She loves it when I refer to her only as 'Slut', and she likes having me parade her around as my slave, especially with a leash or something equally dehumanizing. She really gets off on the objectification. Ma enjoys believing that she's surrendered herself to me, heart and soul, her body nothing except a receptacle for my cum." Suzanna ran a sensual finger along the curves of his chest. "Now that last part, I understand." He smiled at her, and his cock began springing back to life. "So how do you want this to work?" she asked him, "I want you to move back to Fresno with me, but . . . you've lived in Chicago all your life." "Well, now that I own Stallion Productions, I'll have to be in California regularly anyway. I've got the dough now, so, I'm considering renting a house somewhere nearby." Her mouth fell. Barry was that wealthy? "Really—?" "Yeah," Barry said with a smile. "But first, I think we should all do some traveling for a while. Now that we'll have the money and I'm close to graduation, there's a Sexology school I want to study at in Germany for a little bit, and I know I'll stay focused better if I have you there with me. You always knew how to help manage my time and . . . motivate me to be at my best." "Sounds good, honey," Suzanna agreed. "Maybe I can study there, too. I've already finished my Masters, and I've been trying to figure out what to do next." "I figured you'd say that. And it'll be fun, especially since Germany's sorta lax on nudism laws. I've enjoyed the fact that my Ma and I live in the middle of nowhere inside a little bumblefuckian Chicagoland suburb where we can go natural all day, every day. And I know it'll only get better with you there, love." "Mmmm . . . I'm getting wet just thinking about it, darling," Suzanna purred. "So what about my job? I mean, now that you own the studio, you technically get to tell me what to do, but . . ." Barry grinned fiendishly. He obviously knew that this question would come up. "I've been working out some ideas for streaming live porn events on the internet." Suzanna's eyes sparkled. "You'll . . . let me keep doing what I'm doing?" He seemed shocked by her response. "Of course I will." "I just mean . . . Baby, you basically want to take me as your wife, but you're willing to let me be fucked by strangers on camera. Wouldn't you feel jealous . . .?" He chuckled. "Do you plan to bring any of your co-stars home and spend months rehabilitating them from a shot to the leg, or wherever?" She scoffed. "Of course not." "Then what the fuck do I have to be jealous of? You proved your love a long time ago, and now it's time for me to do the same." She kissed him tenderly. "And you did that when you saved me, my love." "That's old hat. Time for me to step it up," Barry nodded. "Besides, you love it, so I have no right to ask you to stop. You were doing it long before you met me, and it makes you happy. It wouldn't be fair for me to try and take it away from you." Tenderly, Suzanna cooed, "I would stop in an instant. If you asked." "So you say, but I think that's puppy love talking, and you'd eventually come to regret it, even if you never said so. But anyway, I won't. If it's something you feel you want to give up some day, then you're free to do so. But, I'll never ask you to. As long as it makes you happy, it makes me happy." He grinned evilly. "Besides, I like the idea of having a damn hot slut for a wife, getting her legs spread for the entire world to see but crawling into my bed and begging for me to fuck her. So, to put it bluntly: you're free to get all of the fucking you want and be paid for it, and of course, you'll always have my cock to come home to." "Then that's all I care about." She lovingly laid her head on his chest. "When we get to Germany, I'll see what we can do to set up that whole live stream idea. It's not easy to implement, but I think I've got it figured out. I've already done a few . . . er . . . test runs myself just to see how feasible an idea this is." "'Test runs'?" "Heh . . . yeah. Ma and I have already done a few live incest fuck sessions online. We've gotten a few thousand followings. But we keep our identities secret, of course." Suzanna frowned. "You bastard. I told you that if you ever fucked on camera, I got first dibs!" "Aw, sorry, baby. But technically it wasn't even 'on camera'. Just shitty webcam." Her frown didn't dissipate, but her voice softened. "But still . . ." "I promise, I'll make it up to you," he said with a kiss. She smiled, satisfied because she knew Barry always kept his promises. "And of course, when we return to the States,we'll stay in the new house. I don't want you living TOO far from L.A.—after all, it's where you're going to be shooting and stuff." "And what about your Mom? What will she do?" "Officially, she'll stay in our current home, but when it's possible, she'll go where I go, just to provide me with a little pussy here and there. If it's alright with—" "I don't mind," Suzanna said, cutting him off. "For real . . .?" She turned her head to look into his eyes. "Honey, if you don't mind letting your wife get fucked by random porn jobbers, then I surely don't mind you having a lover on the side. Or hell, twenty if you want." She licked her lips eagerly. "You're way too much hunk for little old me to contain. And besides, if your Momma stayed with us . . . I could think of all sorts of fun activities for the three of us." A sly, lustful smile appeared once more on Barry's face. "Like what?" Suzanna sat upward, returning his lusty gaze with her own. Her hand slid over to his cock and gripped it tightly. Slowly, she began to stroke it, using her delicate fingers to massage his meat. "Hurry up and put this thing back inside me, and I'll tell you all about it." Less than two seconds later, Suzanna was on her back again, with her feet resting on Barry's shoulders while he stuffed his rod into her juicy and eager cunt. ****** Barry and Suzanna were wedded in Las Vegas in a quick, non-event ceremony. Both of them wanted things this way—neither of them were especially interested in spectacle, and Suzanna had always found girls' obsessions with "perfect wedding days" and whatnot to be huge wastes of time and money. So she, Barry and Ariadne drove to Nevada, where one of Suzanna's co-stars knew a judge who could have them properly married in only a few minutes. After saying their vows, the two of them spent the rest of the night on the town dining, gambling, and taking in the sights. Afterwards, they returned to the hotel where Ariadne waited, and the night ended with all three of them fucking each other like rabbits. After that, Barry was as good as his word. All three of the Garretts—four if you included baby Lyrica and five if you considered Ariadne's unborn son—went to Germany, where they would be taking residence for the next year or however long it took Barry and Suzanna to further their studies. In the meantime, the three of them took in the sights and enjoyed the freedom of Germany's many nude parks and beaches. Both Barry and Suzanna turned a lot of heads when they strode around in the buff, what with his athletic physique and her perfect figure, magnificent tits, and shapely ass. Ariadne's body was a little plumper, especially because she was with-child again, but the extra pounds only made her look more fuckable than usual. Barry had been right—being clothes-free was an addicting lifestyle, as Suzanna soon came to see. Of course, it's not like she had much time to wear clothing around the home anyway, since random, spontaneous fucking occurred at random hours of each day. Everyone was happy with this arrangement. Suzanna felt a guilty, obscene thrill watching her husband fuck his own mother—pregnant with his child—right in front of her, and Ariadne felt an equally obscene pleasure at being paraded in front of her son's wife and all of Las Vegas and Germany as a common slut, collared and pregnant so that everyone could see her true purpose. And of course, Barry was happy having two very hot women to fuck whenever he wanted to. Suzanna still had sex on camera when possible. German porn directors were giddy at having an American starlet to work with . . . especially one as gorgeous and insatiably slutty as Suzanna. Barry himself occasionally took a foreign lover or two, and he was utterly amazed at how kinky German women were compared to Americans. Barry had been a porn producer for a year, and fucking his own mom in the meantime, so he had developed quite a 'seen it all' attitude. But he felt naïve and innocent all over again when it came to these women and the sheer number of kinks and fetishes they eagerly displayed. The best thing, though, was that Suzanna and Ariadne willingly, eagerly, enjoyed taking suggestions. Some things stuck, and some didn't, but all three of them felt their sexuality deepen during their stay. In the meantime, the porn business was booming. The studio was already enjoying large success even before Barry bought it, and under Barry's leadership, it only thrived. After about six months, Barry had purchased a few small but promising studios in Germany and established a subsidiary company there. Also, the live streaming idea was a tremendous success. They had already amassed a pretty substantial following from the people who liked watching the "Mystery Mom and Son" fuck their brains out on the internet, and their audience only grew when Suzanna and several other Stallion stars started their own streams. The money started pouring in, and Barry quickly knew that it was only a matter of time before Stallion Productions became one of the most influential names in pornography. Barry's Sluts Ch. 02: Emily Ariadne eventually gave birth to Barry's second child, Anthony "Tony" Garrett. And of course, since she didn't want birth control and absolutely refused to go without Barry's cock, she only wound up pregnant yet again with almost no pause in between. But she didn't mind. As she'd told Barry from the beginning, she'd be bred as often as he could seed her. She was over forty now, so she didn't know how many more she had in her, but she'd let him use her body as long as they both were able. For added benefit, she was hornier when she was pregnant, and both Suzanna and Barry found her sexier with a swollen belly, so it was win-win all around. Suzanna felt minor pangs of jealousy, not ready to have children of her own yet, but she was comforted by the knowledge that it was only a matter of time, and Barry eagerly reminded her that there were eggs inside her with his name on them. ****** "Good evening everybody and welcome to tonight's episode of Adult Entertainment News here on Late Night Erotic! We cover the latest headlines, gossip and trends in all of erotic entertainment and bring it right home to our viewers! "Tonight, we've got a special treat for you. Our next guest is one of the most interesting newcomers in the sex industry today, and he's quickly beginning to make quite a name for himself. In a little over three years, he's gone from being an unknown to owner of Stallion Productions, quickly becoming one of the hottest adult film studios in Hollywood! He's suave, he's smart, he's handsome, and best of all, we've got him for an exclusive interview! "So please, ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome for Barry Garrett!" Applause broke through the studio audience, and the electricity only cranked higher once Barry appeared, dressed in his Sunday Best. Milking the attention for all it was worth, he began blowing kisses to the audience and waving with the friendliest grin he could muster. Barry walked to the host, Chandra Burell, and shook her hand before then kissing it and Chandra motioned for him to take a seat on the couch beside her desk. Chandra then took her seat in her chair and waited for the audience to cool down a little before beginning to conduct her interview. "Thank you for making it here tonight," Chandra said warmly. "No, no," Barry said modestly. "I'm actually honored to be here and a little anxious. I have never been on TV before." "Haha, says the man who owns a million-dollar production company. And don't get too excited . . . it's only late-night cable." She fumbled with her notes. "So. Barry Garrett. You label yourself as a 'sex professional'. Care to tell us what that means?" Barry laughed. "It means I charge seventy-five for mouth and one-fifty for cock." The entire audience laughed and cheered. "No, just kidding. It means that I devote my entire professional—and personal—life toward the examination, advancement, and . . . naturally . . . enjoyment of all things sexual. Sex is one of the most amazing values we humans possess, and it factors, in some way, into everything we do . . . from religion to science to interpersonal relationships. My task . . . my purpose in life . . . is to explore that value and, hopefully, further define what it means to be a sexually free human being." The audience once again burst into applause and Barry winked at them, keeping his hands folded on his lap as he awaited Chandra's response. "Er . . . wow. Well, okay, I guess you've told us the philosophy of what you do, but what is it you actually do to pursue it?" "Aside from lots of fucking?" Barry chuckled, and the audience hooted and cheered along with him. "Well, I'm the sole private owner of Stallion Productions, a rising adult media studio here on the west coast. In addition to that, I write articles on sex advice for young men, and I have an answer column in Adultmag. I attend a lot of lectures on sexual psychology and sexology, and I've recently earned a Masters in the field. Aside from that, I just do a lot of networking and meet-and-greets with plenty of people in the adult and sex entertainment industry. I have a 'you-scratch-my-back-I'll-scratch-yours' rapport with lots of bigger names in the biz, and it's worked out pretty well so far." "That's rather impressive. You must be incredibly busy." "Yeah, but in a good way," Barry laughed. "My wife actually sets most of my schedules and appointments, and our mutual lover has sound business expertise. Both of them are real slave-drivers when it comes to their share of the family duties." "Sounds like you've got a lot of support, Mr. Garrett." Barry shook his finger and tisked. "No, no, no, no. You don't get to call me that. For you, it's just 'Barry'." Chandra smiled and blushed. "Um, alright, 'Barry'." "If I have to be honest, I said that because I'm getting an increasing urge to fuck you, Chandra. You really are a very ravishing woman." Chandra grew even redder, especially as the audience continued to cheer and holler at Barry's flirtation. Of course, she knew this already—part of the reason AEN was so popular on late-night cable was because of Chandra's exceptionally sultry appearance. A honey brunette with average-sized, but exceptionally round tits, curvaceous hips, striking hazel eyes, and sultry red lips, Chandra had actually become quite accustomed to having her guests proposition her onstage. After all, the subject matter of her show was always sex, and it was easy for the mind to draw that connection when one was in the company of a gorgeous woman. "Well . . . if I did that, who would do the show?" she teased. "Your stage director over there is a pretty fun guy," Barry said, pointing toward a man standing just offstage, hidden in the darkness. "What do you say, brother? Wanna sit in the big chair for an episode? Or two?" Again, the audience cheered, and the camera panned to the stage director, who just shrugged and shouted something unintelligible without a microphone. "Sorry, it looks like we'll need to keep filming for the time being . . . Barry," Chandra shrugged. "Oh that's alright. It's not like the offer has an expiration date," he stated knowingly. "Well, while we're on the subject of your sex life," Chandra said, meekly shifting the cards in her hand. "Didn't you say that you're actually . . . married?" "That's right," Barry said, showing off the wedding band on his left ring finger. "Ah, and what if Mrs. Garrett decided to watch tonight's taping?" Barry's grin widened. "Well, honestly, she'd probably be disappointed that I bothered asking and didn't just stand up, bend you over, and fuck you on your own desk." The audience erupted once more and Barry's gaze pierce Chandra's eyes unwaveringly. Chandra herself had to break eye contact once or twice out of embarrassment as she tried to focus on completing her job. Barry waited patiently, his beam unflinching, ready to continue the conversation whenever she pulled herself together. "Surely, you're kidding, right?" "Not at all. My wife actually encourages my sexual appetite. In addition to her, and our mutual lover, I've had sex with about seven other people in the past week alone." More 'oooo's' from the crowd. "But I have a very gluttonous appetite. The more I fuck, the more I want to fuck." "Well, ah, it . . . it certainly sounds like you're living one hell of an amazing life, Mr. Garr—I mean, Barry." "I'd say so," he responded jubilantly. "I've learned that life is really about squeezing every ounce of fun that you can get out of it. Everything can breed excitement—love, professionalism, leisure—all you need to do is never settle for anything. Always know what you want and what makes you happy, and then never settle for anything less than that." "Haha. Is that bit of your sex advice on the house, then?" Chandra joked. "That's just lesson number one," Barry told her. "In your case, you'll learn lesson number two more privately." Again, the audience was in uproar, and Chandra was forced to cover her face as ever centimeter of it slowly shaded to a tomato red. ****** Mmm. I see my boy is enjoying our first night back in the States. Ariadne Garrett sat in the backstage area, watching her son's interview, marveling at how well-adjusted and calm he was on camera, knowing that he was being watched by hundreds . . . soon to be thousands when this recording aired or, if they were really lucky, even millions. Barry had the entire studio audience right in the palm of his hand. They were soaking up his charisma, intoxicated by it, and in turn, only bolstering his confidence further. Even Chandra, though she didn't seem to want to admit it, was firmly under Barry's spell. Ariadne could see the flushness in her face, the way she shifted excitedly in her seat. She had no doubt that the woman was insanely moist between her thighs just thinking about what Barry wanted to do with her, although she was doing an adequate—futile, but adequate—job of hiding her curiosity. Ariadne doubted she'd survive the night without him dumping a load inside her. She understood perfectly. She laid a hand on her gravid belly, even now eight months inflated with her son's third child. She felt the baby kick inside her, winced a little and then smiled in happiness. She doubted many would understand it, but it made her proud to no end to be the vessel which held her son's progeny. In a strange way, she felt as though it gave her body purpose—until about two or three years ago, she had only had one lover her entire life, and only one child from that union. The love of her life, Stewart Garrett, had been taken from her when Barry was only eight. At the time, it felt almost as if her entire life had come crashing to a halt, and her sex life fell into a decline which lasted for more than a decade. Then one day, she felt all of her repressed urges beginning to arise all at once. Consumed by the flames of lust, she searched desperately for an outlet and, thankfully, found her son Barry. Though the first time they'd made love had been spontaneous, and somewhat awkward after the fact, the second time was deliberate, consensual and utterly amazing. From then on, it only felt natural, and Ariadne was all too eager to bend over or spread her legs for her son at every opportunity. Even now, as she sat backstage with her obscenely large belly, she wore a form-fitting, skimpy black gown that left very little to the imagination. Her bulbous, full breasts were barely covered by a pair of folds which fell conveniently over her nipples, criss-crossing into an X shape just above her belly. Her back and shoulders were therefore completely exposed, and the wide, dark areolae around her nipples slightly peeked behind the narrow straps. Ariadne was well-aware that she looked more like a wanton whore than an expectant mother, especially with the thick leather collar that she constantly boasted around her neck, but that was exactly what she was: her son's full-time whore. She lived only to be fucked by him, and the only thing she cared about anymore was pleasing him. Unless discretion was necessary, he always had her dress in a manner that showed she was ready to be fucked—hell, whenever he told her to, she went without clothing completely. If he came in right now and told her to strip naked and follow him around the studio, she'd do it without hesitation. The first thing, in fact, that he did when she became his slave was throw every single blouse, dress, skirt, and piece of lingerie into a trash compactor. The two of them had become wealthy enough that she was able to tailor clothing for any specific occasion, but her wardrobe was completely bare aside from longcoats, stockings, heeled shoes and her normal latex slave gear, which she now considered to be her "real" clothing. What little normal wear he allowed her to wear, she as the slutty ensemble she sported now, she and Barry had taken to call her "disguises". By her own choice, Ariadne had stopped being a person in the broadest sense of the term. Now, she was only a slut that only sometimes pretended to be human. When she went shopping, or took the kids to daycare, most people would look at her and see a normal woman. But it turned her n to know that she, Barry and Suzanna knew what she really was: property. Her son's personal tool for breeding. Ariadne grinned devilishly—the thought alone made her pussy soaking wet. Ariadne was happier than she'd ever been in her life, maybe save for the years she'd spent with her Stewart. At first, it made her feel a bit awkward, as she wondered what her late husband would think of what she had become, but Barry convinced her that his father would want both of them to be happy. On top of that, Ariadne was more than satisfied with the arrangement. The relationship between her and Barry was simply that of Master and Slut; she loved him both as a lover and a mother, but she still considered Stewart to be her one and only soulmate. With him gone, Ariadne gave her body to their son to use—put succinctly, she was merely the vessel for Barry's offspring. Or to put it another way, she was helping make Stewart's grandchildren. To emphasize this point, Ariadne that had insisted that Barry find his own "soulmate" . . . someone whom he could love as his foil and equal as she had once loved Stewart. It didn't surprise her to know that he'd chosen that Suzanna girl she'd heard him speak so highly of. Though Ariadne was initially upset to know that her son was intimately related to a pornographic actress, she quickly had no grounds for complaint. Though she hated to admit it, Suzanna had transformed Barry into a great man and an amazing lover. Ariadne actually couldn't help but feel a little jealous that another woman had managed to unlock a side of her son that she'd never even known existed. Barry, however, called that attitude silly—he insisted that it was his love, and his lust, for his mother that had enabled his evolution in the first place. That knowledge did help her feel a bit better. Also, being married to a porn star seemed to make her son happy. Suzanna got to satisfy her needs on camera, and Barry was free to have the occasional lover of his choice. They maintained a wonderful open marriage, always communicating and taking the time to establish ground rules when situations turned a bit too gray. At first, Barry had suggested he might find a lover or two for Ariadne so that she wouldn't be left out if he couldn't attend to her. She had never taken him up on that offer though, as she was more than satisfied having him plugging all of her holes whenever he could. As time went by, Barry eventually rescinded his offer, declaring that Ariadne's body and pussy belonged to him only, and that he would never let another man have her. For some reason, that made her unbelievably happy. And that aside, Ariadne wasn't exactly a promiscuous kind of woman. She'd, in fact, only had four lovers in the entirety of her life—her late husband Stewart, Barry, Suzanna . . . and Emily. Emily. Now there's a name I haven't thought of in quite a while, Ariadne mused to herself. Emily had been the young owner of a moderately-sized sex shop in the shopping mall close to Ariadne's home. After the first time she and Barry had made love, Ariadne had found herself visiting the sex shop regularly while he was schooling in Fresno. There, she'd found her first Sybian machine . . . and Emily. Emily and Ariadne were mutual first-time "lesbians". In only a few short weeks, Ariadne had come to love the taste of Emily's body and the rush of feeling her hands and tongue moving all over her smooth feminine body. Emily, despite a hard, punkish appearance, was actually a very delicate and attentive lover. Ariadne had hoped that her trysts with Suzanna would satisfy those repressed bisexual urges, but Suzanna was more aggressive and her body was very different from Emily's. That wasn't to say that Suzanna was inferior, but Emily had been Ariadne's "first", and that made her special. Ariadne barely recognized how excited the thought was making her—she didn't even register that her hands were rubbing on her tits and pussy through the thin material of her dress until the door swung open and one of the young female production assistants entered and paused, her mouth agape. "Um, ah . . . I was wondering if there was something I could do for you, Mrs. Garrett," the young woman told her. Yes, you sexy thing. You could come over here and lick my soaking wet pussy, was the first thought that came to Ariadne's mind. Though she came to her senses a second later, it was actually somewhat common for Ariadne to sometimes feel her 'slut side' take total control like that. For a brief moment, Ariadne compared this young woman's features with those of Emily. She was slightly older than Emily had been, although they'd probably be roughly the same age now. Furthermore, her hair was dyed, just as Emily's had been. In this case, the change seemed to be from an reddish-brown to a yellow blonde, rather a raven black to a flaxen blonde, like Emily's had been. Other than that, she looked almost nothing like Emily. Emily had a stark white complexion and delicate body, while this girl had a very freckled, peachy skin and quite a bit of meat on her. "Would you like some coffee, or something to eat?" the woman asked. "No, I'm just fine," Ariadne replied with a friendly smile. The young woman nodded and glanced up at the monitor, watching Barry's interview continue. "Well, I guess what your husband told Ms. Burell was true," she stated. "You don't seem that bothered about his flirting." Ariadne's smile broadened. "Oh, he's not my husband. So no, it doesn't bother me a bit." The woman's eyes widened and her head slowly turned back to Ariadne. Her vision glanced from Ariadne's smile to her swollen belly, and back to the monitor. She then cast an inquisitive glance at the pregnant "Mrs. Garrett", but Ariadne only smiled in response, offering no explanation. She let the young assistant exit the room, allowing her imagination fill in whatever blanks she wanted. Ariadne was hardly ashamed of what she did with her son, but she knew well the risks if it became public knowledge. The two of them already skirted a number of lines, such as having their property in Chicagoland declared a 'clothes-optional' zone, constantly keeping her pregnant with child after child, and live streaming their incestuous liaisons with their faces blurred and distinguishing characteristics Photoshoped. Everything they did was completely private, with only a privileged few knowing the truth, but it would still be all too easy for some moderately nosy soul to eventually put two and two together and ruin everything. They weren't entirely in hiding, but none of them wanted everything about their lives to be exposed. There were still lots of things they needed to do before they could dare allow the world to know their dark little secrets. A short time later, the interview came to an end, and Barry exited the stage amidst thunderous applause. Less than a minute afterward, the door to Ariadne's room slammed open and Barry barged right in. She took one glance at the fire in his eyes and immediately knew what was on his mind. "In front or behind, Master?" she asked him. "Behind," Barry growled hungrily. He unbuttoned his jacket, slid it off of his shoulders and began unfastening his tie as Ariadne quickly turned around, bent over, and elevated her ass for him. "Grab that," he told her, indicating a metal pipe in the corner of the room. Ariadne did as she was told, and Barry fished into his pockets for a pair of leather cuffs. Looping them around the pipe, he then snapped the cuffs around Ariadne's wrists, keeping her effectively shackled to the corner of the room. They weren't necessary—she'd never disobey her master's orders, after all—but taking her choice away helped drive home her status as "property". Barry's Sluts Ch. 02: Emily As always, it left her cunt soaked. In the meantime, she heard her son's zipper fall, along with sound of pants hitting the floor. It made her heart race with anticipation and Ariadne kept her focus forward, staring at the blank wall in front of her, as she knew that it displeased her master when she looked anywhere but forward when he fucked her from behind. This was his favorite position, because it let him do whatever he wanted to her without her being able to see. It wasn't her business what he did with her body. Her job was to bend over and let him. As usual, though her pussy was ready and eager to accept him, he toyed with her first—using his hands to gently stroke the inside of her thighs, taking advantage of the extra sensitivity she always felt when pregnant. As she moaned softly at his touch, her body squirmed eagerly, enjoying the foreplay, loving the feeling of letting her son touch his property in any way he saw fit. Eventually, she was worked up something fierce, and the end of his cock lightly brushed against the lips of her slit, teasing her with its firmness. She begged for him to slide his shaft inside, but of course he didn't. He delayed for another torturous second, pausing to ask her a simple question. "Whose pussy is this?" "Yours, Master," Ariadne breathed with readiness. She felt his hips move, and the knob of his cock slid inside an inch. "Whose pussy is this, Ma?" "Mmmm, it's yours, Barry, my son. Your mother's pussy is all yours." As always, they were only allowed to call each other 'Mother', 'Son', or terms equal to that effect, when his cock was inside of her. At all other times, he was only 'Master' and she was only 'Slut'. But, he loved to remind her of their old relationship while he fucked her, and she always got a charge from calling him 'Son' as his meat sawed inside her wet cunt, just as it was now. Barry finally began to fuck her, his hips bumping into her wide ass with powerful, rhythmic thumps. In the hollow room, there was a slight echo every time their flesh pounded together. Ariadne could keenly hear a soft, slapping sound every time he slammed his thighs against her meaty ass. That, along with the wet suction noises her pussy made with every stroke, only intensified her lust, allowing her to cum multiple times only a few minutes into it. And she loved Barry's excited grunts. Her son always sounded so savage, so primal when he fucked her. He sounded feral when fucked other women, too—especially Suzanna—but she detected that there was a slightly different pitch whenever it was his slutty mother that he was plowing. She doubted that anyone besides her could pick it up, and even then it was only because she'd known this boy and raised him her entire life. Whatever the psychological reason or meaning behind it, Ariadne loved to hear it. She knew that this was a side of her son that was reserved for her, and her alone. Barry 's hands slid underneath her gown, slowly peeling away inch after inch to expose her naked flesh and explore ever more of her wide, pregnant physique. His hands cupped under her, gently rubbing her belly. He adored feeling how large and firm she'd gotten with his baby inside her. As much as Barry had loved her body before she became pregnant, he absolutely worshipped her when she was with child. "You are so beautiful when you're pregnant, Ma," he told her, thrusting harder and deeper, finally peeling back enough of her clothing to completely reveal her round, child-bearing stomach. She caught her breath, coming down from another orgasm as she tried to respond. "That's only because it's your baby inside me, honey. My body was meant only to carry your seed." "Damn right," Barry said as his hands slapped on her hips tightly. "Only I get to make babies inside you, right, Ma?" "Absolutely, darling. I'm your slut. Your property. My body is yours to . . . ahgn . . . to d-do as you see fi—Oh . . . OH GOD . . .UUUNGGGH!!" As always, repeating those words made her climax hard. Saying them over and over, with her son's cock hammering her and a baby in her womb was the most blissful thing in the world to her. For Barry too, apparently, because it was that moment that he erupted inside her, spackling her insides with his hot jism. Ariadne cried out with pleasure, never tiring of the feeling of her son's hot jets pouring into her belly. She savored the experience, enjoying it all the more as her lover stamped deep inside her two or three times more, punching as far into her hole as he could. When he finally began to calm down, they maintained that position for a few minutes afterward. Then, Barry began to speak. "I think I'm going to fuck Chandra after they stop filming," he told her flatly. "Would you like me to do that?" She licked her lips eagerly, her body still reeling from the workout he'd just given her. "Yes, Master. I would." "Tell me what you want me to do to her," he instructed her, reaching around and pulling the flimsy straps aside from her swollen, aching tits, exposing tits bulging with breast milk. "I – I . . ." Ariadne swallowed hard. "I want you to shoot your jizz down her throat. I want you fuck her nasty little cunt and then make her clean you off. And then, I want you to cum deep inside of her hot, whorish pussy." "That's dangerous, Ma," he told her as he firmly squeezed her breasts, making breastmilk slowly begin to seep from inside. "What if she's not on the pill?" "Fuck the pill," Ariadne hissed. "If she's stupid enough to avoid having your baby, then all the better for me. Give them all to me. I'll breed you a whole baseball team. No . . . an entire football team!" Barry crooked a grin. "And some cheerleaders to boot?" "And the coaching staff, the waterboys, the agents . . . hell, I'll even give you the whole opposing team for good measure! Just keep me pregnant, Master. Use my body as long as you can!" Barry's cock stiffened tighter, as Ariadne knew it would. "You've greatly pleased me, Slut." "It's what I live to do, Master," she cooed. "That, and have your babies." She noted that she'd let her 'politeness' slip again. The slut inside her was taking absolute control, but she didn't care. She had meant every word of it. She loved being pregnant with her son's heirs, and she wouldn't stop for all the world. Barry fucked her one more time, lasting for roughly an hour before once again cumming deep inside her and pulling out, leaving his cum oozing down the insides of her thigh. However, as he dressed, he left Ariadne cuffed to the pipe, not even bothering to pull her dress back down. She then heard the door opening, and Barry announced that he was off to go and fuck that Chandra woman and to make herself comfortable. That knowledge, coupled with her shackles, kept Ariadne excited even long after Barry had left. It might have seemed demeaning to most, but she loved knowing that her son was going to fuck another slut, and that he was leaving her like this—exposed, cuffed and filled with his cum—until he returned. After all, she was only a slave . . . a pregnant slut, being used for the purpose God had intended for her. ****** SEVERAL DAYS LATER "What? You were a LESBIAN, Ma?" Barry exclaimed, taking long slow strokes as his throbbing cock sawed through his mother's cunt. Bent over the kitchen table, her eight-month-wide belly barely hanging off the edge, Ariadne tried her best to answer her son's question, but the way he fucked her, with such strong, precise strokes, meant that she was attempting to respond through an orgasm. She took a few gasps for air and attempt to speak, but the only thing which ebbed from her mouth was a sob of sexual satisfaction. "I asked you a fucking question, Slut," Barry said, yanking his hand backward and pulling the chain attached to his mother's collar. Ariadne yelped and did her best to prevent coming a second time, as she was wont to do whenever her Master called her by her 'true' name. "I-I'm sorry, Master!" she cried, excitedly. Though she would never admit it to her Master, she always loved it when he got rough while drilling his cock into her. The one downside to being pregnant, though, was that he always subconsciously held back, afraid to hurt their baby, despite her assurances that her hardy body could take it. "I . . . I wasn't a lesbian exactly. Emily and I . . . we just explored each other." "That sounds a lot like being a goddamn lesbian to me," Barry responded, his left hand gripping her ass tighter until she could feel his fingernails pinching her cheeks. "How was it?" "It was wonderful, Master," Ariadne admitted. "Oh yeah? Better than my cock?" he asked, pausing and sliding his wet shaft out of her hole. "No! Please . . . put it back inside me! Hurry . . .!" "You don't make demands of me, Slut," Barry reminded her. "Answer the question." "It—It wasn't, Master!" Ariadne gasped desperately. "It was nowhere near as good as your strong, stiff cock! " "I don't believe you," Barry said, sliding his meat along her slit, teasing her, making her ache with lust. "It's the truth! Please believe me, Master! I enjoyed Emily's body, but I can and could live without it! I CAN'T live without you fucking me! I need you inside me! Pleeeeeeeease!" Barry popped it back inside and began fucking his mother's cunt harder. "You're lucky that answer was acceptable," he told her contemptuously. "Yeesssssss," she moaned, as she felt his warm, solid manhood fill her again. "Thank you!" Barry leaned forward, pressing his lean, muscled body against his mother's back. Aroused by the heat, Ariadne quivered, and she moaned as she felt her son's hands scoop from around her and began squeezing her tits. "This pussy is mine," he whispered into her ear. "These tits are mine." One of his hands left her breasts to explore her body, making an extra effort to touch her round, pregnant belly. "Everything I touch is mine." "Yes, darling," Ariadne breathed, turning her head so that she could kiss her son's lips. "My body is yours and yours alone. It exists only to please you." Barry gripped his mother's shoulders hard and threw his head back as he came. Milky white semen burst from the end of his cock and splashed inside his mother's walls, coating her tender, pink insides. "Oh, thank you, Master," Ariadne said, leaning her head on the table in relief. "I needed that." Barry merely grunted in response, still too wasted from his own climax to give an articulate response. His softening package slid out of her cream-filled pussy, allowing thick, syrupy cum to seep out and leak onto the floor. Ariadne simply stayed in that position for a bit longer, enjoying the feeling of being fucked over her own kitchen table. She even felt a thrill from having cum oozing out of her naked, freshly-used tunnel. Suddenly, a burst of loud crying came from inside what had once been Barry's bedroom. Ariadne sighed, although she was thrilled that the baby had waited until his father and mother had finished this time. "Hold on, Tony," she resigned, lifting herself from the table. "Mommy's on the way." "No, why don't you lay down on the couch and rest, My Pet?" It seemed Barry was feeling rather affectionate, as he often did, post-coitus. With Barry and Suzanna, Ariadne was always the bottom; she simply didn't have the sort of dominant spirit that they did. She was always polite and soft-spoken and conscious of criticism. Ninety percent of the time, the pecking order went Barry > Suzanna > Ariadne. On rare occasion—either when he screwed something up or when she had some sort of leverage—Suzanna and Barry switched positions and she became the top and he the middle. Suzanna called Barry 'Papa' when he was in control, as 'Master' was Ariadne's word. When she was in control, she usually went by the nicknames 'Teacher' or 'Madame Zanna'. Both she and Barry called each other 'Pet', and sometimes slipped and called Ariadne that as well. She didn't mind being called 'Pet', but it paled in comparison to the thrill of being called 'Slut'. When in a particularly loving mood, they all sometimes used other names as well. "But, Sweetheart," she said, responding equally affectionately, "he probably just wants to be fed. Maybe it's better if I go . . ." "He might just need changing," Barry cut her off. "If that's the case, there's no reason you need to bother with it. I'm not even close to done with you, so go regain as much strength as you can on the couch, and if he needs your tits, I'll bring him out and we'll both have some." "Mmmmmm," Ariadne purred, both at the idea of feeding both of her children, and Barry's quip about 'not being done' with her. At his behest, she stood upright and began walking her way to the couch. "As you wish, Master." ****** Stark naked, Barry headed for the babies' room, walking backward to admire his equally-nude mother waddling her pregnant body to the couch. It was times like this when he was glad that he enforced a 'clothes-free' policy on their property. His mother was absolutely gorgeous—especially so when she was pregnant and sporting that obscene, bulging belly. Wearing clothes over such delectable art would be an absolute waste For the sake of fairness and pragmatism, Barry elected not to wear any clothing either—it only slowed him down when he had the urge for fucking, and quite often, his nudeness only sparked his mother's own animal lust. More than once, he had felt her body press against his from nowhere, instantly signally that she was ready for him to work out her pussy again. It always worked—there had never yet been a time when Barry turned down the option to fill his mother's cunt with his seed. Barry was surely in love with her—a different type of love than he felt with Suzanna, but a strong one nonetheless. He had become quite accustomed to possessing both a wife and a 'slut'. Suzanna was his other half . . . and although she and Ariadne were both usually in sub roles, it wasn't quite the same. When Suzanna was submissive, she most enjoyed physical sensation. She liked it when Barry either tortured her flesh relentlessly or stimulated it tenderly. Of course, constantly switching up was a big key, and Barry often tended to tie her up and blindfold her to keep her guessing which of the extremes to expect. Even better was when he could do something like edgeplay—arousing her with the delicate touch of sharp objects—which really fell into neither extreme, keeping her body quivering in delight for hours. Ariadne, on the other hand, simply loved being dominated. She surrendered absolute and total control to her son, and expected him to use his authority over her whenever he felt like it. She sometimes enjoyed pain and physical sensation like Suzanna, but what made her the most excited was just being used like a toy. She had resigned herself to only existing for Barry's cock to plug her holes and give her children. Barry was free to do anything that he desired, and she would never, ever question him. A dildo, after all, never questioned the woman it belonged to, right? Both lovers had their merits. Suzanna kept him mentally stimulated—it was a constant challenge to keep up with her, and if he somehow screwed up or did a lackluster job, Suzanna had no qualms with switching to her dominant side and just taking what she wanted from him. And of course, that was its own breed of fun. Ariadne, however, kept Barry physically piqued. Barry actually found his mother's body the sexier of the two, especially when she was with child, and he thoroughly enjoyed the power of having his own human flesh toy that would willing accept his load, all day, every day. In short, Barry knew that he loved both of his women, and neither one could ever replace the other. Loud crying from the baby's room reminded him of his original goal, and he retreated back into the room to check on his infant daughter-slash-sister and newborn son-slash-brother. "Well? Didn't you say you were hungry, too, Master?" she asked Barry after he had returned Tony to his crib. Without a word, Barry knelt in front of Ariadne and took her nipple into his mouth. Ariadne moaned in ecstasy as her eldest son sucked away at her teet. She held Barry's head against her, letting him take his fill of her breast milk. "Make sure to leave some for your brother, Master." "My son, you mean," Barry corrected. "Of course, Master," she smiled. Barry nodded. "And as soon as he gets teeth, he's never touching your tits—my tits—again." Ariadne turned beet red. He knew that she loved the way he was so possessive about her, and he loved the knowledge that his cock was the only one that would ever pierce her. But he was more open to the idea of her having a female lover. Of course, she did have Suzanna, but that was kind of a reciprocal relationship. Suzanna was her son's wife, and Barry merely shared her. What his mother actually needed, Barry thought, was a lover that was entirely hers. And that gave him a bit of an idea. "So what about this Emily?" he asked her again, placing his lips back on her nipple. "Oh no . . . not this again," Ariadne groaned. "Please, Master . . . like I said, she was no substitute for you." "No, no, I'm not asking about that," Barry said calmly as he breathed in the aroma of his mom's breastmilk. "What happened to her?" Ariadne frowned. "We . . . parted company shortly before you came back. I was . . . I was trying to 'cleanse my soul' for you, so to speak. I tried to exorcise my 'Slut side', and I told Emily I couldn't see her anymore. She . . . didn't take it well." Barry paused from his sucking and began to squeeze her tit. "I want you to get her back." "W-What?! No, Master . . . I – I couldn't! It's been years since then and . . . and I messed things up so badly with her . . ." "This is not open for discussion," he said with a glare. "You're going to do whatever you can to make Emily your lover again. Whatever it takes, short of letting another man touch you." Ariadne whined and her lip quivered with uncertainty, but she didn't dare disobey her son's orders. "Yes, Master." Barry paused and looked into her eyes. For a moment, he let his dominant façade fall away. "You want her back, don't you, My Slut?" She hesitated a moment before responding. "Yes. I miss her." "Then do it," Barry instructed her. Just before taking her into his mouth once again, he added, "And you will be punished if you fail." "Y-Yes, master," Ariadne gulped. He nibbled lovingly on her nipple, causing Ariadne to moan in rapture as he told her, "Good Slut." ****** Ariadne stared at the sign of the shop named "Clitacasm". It had been so long since she'd been here, she had completely forgotten the place even had a name. For years, she'd gotten by just calling it "Emily's Shop" in her mind. She hadn't even been to this shopping mall in all that time, and everything seemed new after only a few years. Several new shops had opened, many others had closed, and the mall itself seemed to have gotten a fresh coat of paint. Overall, the changes looked nice, but she simply preferred the way things used to be, if only for the nostalgia. At least the mall nursery was still open. Ariadne had thought it was a dumb idea when it opened about ten years ago, as only a lazy parent would dump their kids off while they went shopping. Now, though, she ate her words. Thank God for that little convenience: even she would have found it a little weird to push a double-stroller into a sex shop. As she approached, Ariadne noticed that there were a number of people sitting outside the shop. At first, Ariadne thought that Emily may have 'closed' her shop a little early, like she used to do whenever the two of them made trips to her workshop. However, the shop was open, so her next guess was that the people outside were just squatters or loiterers. Strangely, though, most of the individuals standing outside were either Ariadne's age or even older.