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Sabah

By: vargas111



The wind and snow mixed with rain lashed the windows of the stately house on the hill in the countryside. Through the clamor of the snowstorm, Sabah heard a car's engine begin to sputter and miss. Few women could have caught the sound over the storm rattling the windows, but her hearing was more acute than any ordinary woman's. All her senses were -- as were her urges. And those senses informed her that the desperate driver turned off the road into her driveway as his motor died, leaving it to roll to a stop near her entrance gate. She pursed her brow to ensure he didn't miss seeing it.

She was not expecting company on such a night. She had dressed for the evening alone. But also for a tete-a-tete. Always be prepared, she chuckled. Her house was set well back the road, and the wet snow was accumulating quickly. Out here, forty miles from the city there were no near neighbors. There was no help for it, the driver of the stricken vehicle would have to seek refuge at her door. He was going to be frozen by the ten-minute walk to her door. Or she? No. Sabah knew the driver was male, a young male. A handsome and virile young male, she smiled, her nostrils wide with excitement. Somehow, whenever her hunger reached this level, a prey appeared. Her nerves tingled in expectation, and all her appetites stirred. It would take him a few more minutes to make his way here. More than enough time to prepare.

She opened the satin robe, black as her hair, exposing the shorter nightgown of the same material. She appraised her appearance in the mirror in the hall, noting with approval how the gown and robe set off her fair, almost pale skin. Her eyes were dark, mysterious, an effect many women tried to imitate with make-up. She needed none. Her ensemble clung to her slender yet voluptuous figure. Her bosoms were twin snowy mounds with a deeply shadowed valley between. This would do very well. Experience gave her confidence in her powers.

She was ready by the entrance when the doorbell rang. She let it ring a second time -- she wanted him to feel like a supplicant -- then opened the door. She studied the young man standing there while her appearance had its desired effect on him. He was well made, better than she had hoped. His face was ruggedly strong rather than handsome. No little intelligence, and even more strength of character looked out of his blue eyes. His hair was wetly plastered to his head; she could not judge the color. In spite of being miserably cold, he radiated vigor and vitality. She suppressed an urge to lick her lips. She could not have chosen better. His stunned reaction indicated a healthy masculine heterosexuality. Very good. This would make her task easier ... and more pleasant. She allowed him to stare for a few seconds longer.

"Yes?" she said finally. He came to himself with a start. He seemed embarrassed by his speechlessness, as if it was the fault of his rudeness rather than her calculated effort. She eyed him with amusement.

"My car broke down." He gestured towards the gate of her drive, although human eyes probably could not see it through the storm. "I wanted to use your 'phone to call the auto club?"

"They warn single women alone never to let a strange man into her house," she replied in a teasing tone. "And the traveler-in-distress is the most transparent ploy ..." She should know; she had used it often enough in the past herself. Her accent reflected her long cosmopolitan life. Of course she did not show the least sign of apprehension.

"Yes, Ma'am," the distressed traveler answered, taking her at her word. "This whole situation is right out of a B-movie script. Could you call them for me, then? Here is my membership card with my member number. tell them I'll wait for them in my car. It's a gray..."

"Oh, _do_ come in!" she interrupted a trifle impatiently, not wanting his misplaced gallantry to spoil her plans. "I think I'm in no danger from YOU. You'll have to take your chances with me, however. No auto club could reach here, anyway. We're likely to be snowbound for days," she chuckled. "Now, get in her before you catch your death standing there in the snow!" She stepped aside and opened the door fully.

He did not hesitate, but entered quickly, visibly glad to get out of the cold and wind. He was in the entrance hall, with the gleaming white tiled kitchen off the right, and the living room/parlor straight ahead. The darkened hall to the left led to her boudoir. Why on Earth had THAT word popped into his mind? The living room was furnished in white: deep carpets, plush overstuffed furniture. A fire burned in the white brick fireplace and mixed with the smell of oak was incense of a most peculiar sort. Music was playing softly in the background; although the volume was low, he could feel the bass line from the powerful speakers.

"Heavens! Don't just stand there dripping on my carpet, my young friend" she smiled. "Go into the kitchen and get out of those wet things. I'll bring you something to put on." She went down the hall to the linen closet. From her vantage point in the dark, she watched his eyes try to follow her. He went into the kitchen, took off his coat and draped it over a chair. He removed his shoes, then hesitated. She returned to the foyer and tossed him a large, fluffy towel through the kitchen door. She laughed. "Go on! Get undressed! I won't peek," she lied. "Dry off!"

He blushed (how charming, she thought), but disrobed as she instructed and dried himself. She busied herself preparing the living room for the next stage, surreptitiously looking in on him as he finished and wrapped the towel around his body. She felt a spasm of desire. She had been far too long without a male essence and she had to exercise self control to proceed methodically. When he had tucked the ends in to secure the bath sheet in place, she returned as if by coincidence with a white terry cloth kimono. "Here," she said not unsympathetically, handing him the robe. "Put this on. I'll make you some tea and join you in the living room."

He donned the robe and went into the other room. While he was in the kitchen, she had turned down the lights, and changed the music to something soft and dreamy, vaguely oriental, very quiet but with a slow pulsing base. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable," Sabah called to him from the kitchen. "I've turned up the heat, to help take the chill out of you."

She watched until he sank into the plush upholstery and soft cushions of the over-stuffed couch with a sigh. The warmth of the fire, the sensuous feel of the velvety pile and the music would coax him into the mood she wanted. She saw him hesitate, them put his head back, giving in to the music's invitation to let go. She smiled to herself and put the kettle on. Soothing and mildly sedative herbs were ready in an infusion bag. She let the relaxing and erotic suggestions she had implanted in the living room music take effect while the kettle boiled and the brew steeped. When it had reached the right strength and temperature, she poured a cup for him, and returned to the living room.

His eyes were closed as she expected. She sat by his side, curling one leg up under her so she was facing him, regarding him for a few moments. Her nostrils flared. He would do; he would more than do! Belatedly sensing her presence, he blinked, and raised his head to look at her. She handed him the faintly steaming mug with a smile. "Comfy? Might as well make the best of it. Looks like you're stuck here with me for several days, so you might as well feel at home. Here, drink this."

Her fingers lightly brushed his own as she handed him the mug. He sipped the sweet fragrant liquid, somewhere between warm and hot, to encourage him to drink. It was delicious. He sipped again. As she watched, she could almost see its soothing effect speed through him, relieving the chill and stiffness of the drenching he had received, as it gently relaxed his muscles, stirred his passions, and beguiled his defenses.

He glanced at her over the rim of the cup. Her robe was open and flowed behind her. The gown was slit to the hip, and she had seated herself in a position calculated to open it and subtly display her smooth, shapely legs. The neckline of her gown was disconcertingly low, and contrasted strikingly with her milk white bosom. He realized he was staring, and jerked his eyes up to her face. She saw his confusion, and smiled again.

"It is all right," she spoke in a tone of quiet amusement. "Finish your tea. I want you to feel comfortable here."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare," he stammered, then sipped more of the herbal brew to cover his embarrassment.

"It really is all right," she assured him. "It is hard not to look at me, isn't it? Don't worry, if looking at me helps you relax and feel comfortable, please do."

He blushed furiously. How sweet, she thought, to find a man who can blush these days. Plainly to cover his confusion, he raised one eyebrow quizzically. She laughed musically and placed her right hand on his thigh.

"Would I dress like this if I didn't enjoy having men look at me. I LIKE the reaction. Especially of a nice YOUNG man." She smiled and leaned her face in her left hand, resting that elbow on the back of the couch. She gazed steadily into his eyes as she continued speaking. "And you do enjoy looking at my breasts, don't you?" She did not remove her hand from his lap, but let it drift lightly up towards his crotch.

"Er...yes, yes I ... I do," he admitted nervously.

"Of course you do," she repeated with mock coyness. "I can tell," she went on, trailing her fingers across his groin. "I believe looking at my cleavage could even be getting you a little bit turned on. Don't be embarrassed. It happens frequently when I show young men my breasts." She paused to gauge his reaction; she didn't want to frighten him ... too much. The tea was doing its work, keeping his skittishness in check.

"I'm flattered when a man cannot keep his eyes off my bosom. I like it even better when he tries to peek up my gown as you are doing." His eyes dropped to her lap in response to the implicit suggestion. "Trying to see if I have on panties?" she teased. She didn't, of course, and his eyes were riveted to the narrow gap at the top of the slit in her gown by the hint of a confirming glimpse. She reached out and took the now empty cup from his unfeeling fingers. "Tell me your name," she said, abruptly changing the subject.

"Ah ... my name? Oh, Rod," he stammered, blinking and dragging his eyes back up to meet her own. "My name is Rod ..."

"Rod," she interrupted. "That's a nice name, a strong, masculine name. You like being here with me, don't you, Rod? Not waiting for an answer, she put the cup down on the coffee table, and slipped her hand inside the robe he was wearing, grazing her fingertips down his bare thigh. "Are you feeling relaxed and comfortable, Rod?"

"Oh, sure," he replied hastily, clearly trying not to show just how un-comfortable he really was. He tried to return her steady look, but her gaze was too intense, and the pull of her low neckline was so strong, that his eyes kept drifting back into the shadowed cleft between her creamy breasts.

This was too good! This delectable male morsel was struggling, not to defend himself from seduction by a dangerous woman, but to be a gentleman. Such innocence! Such naivete! Such a hunk! She could feel her pussy grow moist in anticipation of the feeding.

"I don't think you are telling me the truth, Rod," she almost giggled. "It's all right. Like most men, you are a little bit afraid of me. I am a mysterious, sexy woman and I am wearing clothes that make it impossible not to look at me. I think this negligee with its low neckline intimidates you. You are feeling a little aroused. Perhaps you are worried that I might seduce you, try to take advantage of you. After all, the lights are dim, the room is warm and cozy. I have you all alone with no one to see what I am doing to you. I could caress you and you might become hopelessly aroused." Her palm rested warmly against the inside of his thigh, while her fingers moved dreamily in little circles, barely touching his skin. "Are you afraid that I might make you have sex with me against your will?"

"Yes...," he answered abstractedly, his eyes and mind elsewhere, as she had arranged.

"Well, you are right to be concerned. It would be easy, so easy to manipulate your mind to take advantage of you." Just as I have been doing, she thought. "But you do not need to worry, Rod. Relax. I never make love to a man against his will. No man comes to my bed until I have made him very, very willing. If we make love tonight, I will make sure you really want it first. So you can put those fears out of your mind."

"All right." he murmured compliantly, knowing somehow that he should not.

"I can help you forget your fears. You can relax. You can trust me." She slid her hand up to his waist and unfastened the robe. She smiled a twisted little smile, almost a smirk, and dropped her hand to his lap. She began a slow gentle stroking of his crotch. "We will just talk. You can tell me anything, and listen carefully to everything I say."

"Uh, ma'am... Oh! . You shouldn't. . Please don't do that!"

"No?" She didn't pause even for an instant as she replied. "Do you not like a woman's soft warm hand on your sex?"

"Aahh...yes. But it is getting me aroused!"

"That's just the point. Your prick is already getting nicely big and hard!"

"But..."

"Do not fight it, Rod. It's to help us become friends. I want you to be completely open and at ease with me. Open to me. I want you aroused. Getting a man aroused makes him docile and obedient. Does not my playing with your penis make you feel like doing anything I tell you?"

"Oh, yeess, Ma'am," Rod sighed.

"That's right. Good. Very good. Now close your eyes and tell me everything about yourself," she commanded.

"Yes, Ma'am," Rod murmured as he drifted slowly down through the dreamy mood her hand on his cock induced and to the threshold of trance she had prepared him for. His eyelids drifted shut. She spoke to him softly, her lips next to his ear. She knew he was hearing her voice as if from a long way off. She asked him about his name, where he lived, his friends, his family, his job.... He answered automatically, without thinking. Eventually, using the information she gleaned, she began turning the questions around, twisting his answers into contradictions, confusing him, rendering the things he had told her meaningless. The facts of his life grew fuzzy and unimportant to him.

Making him forget the pretty little blonde fiancee was a little harder, but so satisfying. Interesting material in that relationship. Blondie apparently was sexually repressed and Rod was too nice to show how badly she frustrated him. The silly filly not only often refused him intercourse, she didn't even encourage Rod to go down on her, probably because she didn't want to have to return the favor. It had been weeks since she had let him have missionary sex. Very useful.

Eventually it was impossible for him to follow what she was doing in the hazy sensual fog with which she surrounded him, saturated him. Finally, she recalled him to consciousness. "You may open your eyes, rod." She made sure he heard in her tone her use of the lower case initial letter of his name, turning it into a diminutive.

His eyes fluttered open, as if he were reluctant to leave the pleasant daze. She gazed intently into his face from up close. Her perfume was a fragrant cloud around him, making his head swim. She had opened his robe, and unwrapped his towel, but he barely seemed to notice. He stirred slightly, trying to move. She knew he would feel light headed and leaden limbed.

"What happened, Ma'am," he asked. "And what IS your name? I can't just keep calling you 'Ma'am'."

"You may call me Sabah, for now, my pet" she replied. "What happened is what is still happening, what is going to happen, what I am going to do ... to you." She continued to caress his manhood, which was by now quite engorged and erect.

"Please, Sabah?" he asked, looking helpless and confused.

"Do you not even suspect, rod? You Americans have forgotten so much history and folklore. It makes you so vulnerable, such easy prey." She smiled triumphantly. Her teeth were very white, and her lips had become rosy and full. She saw he noticed the change. "The tea, of course, was drugged, my darling. Nothing strong, just some herbs to make you deliciously horny and rather sleepy. You really should not accept food or drink from strangers, you know."

He struggled to sit up, evidently finding it extraordinarily difficult. She placed a gentle restraining hand on his bare chest, easily pushing him back down. "Don't bother trying, love. You are too dizzy to move," she suggested. She began to play with his nipples. "And then I aroused you, as I am still doing. That makes it easy to cast my spell over you. You would say I hypnotized you."

"Hypnotized? But why?" Rod gasped.

"Why?" Sabah tossed her hair back. "Why does the parasitic wasp paralyze her larger prey? Because she does not want her victim to struggle while she feeds. I feed off the sexual energy of men who are careless enough to let me seduce them. Do you know what a succubus is?" She slipped off her robe, leaving only the black satin gown clinging to her lush body.

"Some kind of demon of lust?" Rod answered. She sensed him struggling to comprehend and resist what was happening. Such great strength of will, such steely character. His resistance excited her.

"That is medieval superstition," Sabah responded scornfully. "I am as natural a creature as you. According to your Professor Gould, our two kinds must even have had a common ancestor in the Neolithic. I could bear a child by you, if I chose to. But tonight we will merely have sex." She smiled wickedly. "That is how I feed, you know. I will arouse you to unbearable heights. Then I will take you and at your climax, drain from you the sexual energy that I need. Afterwards, if I let you leave here, you would not have noticed. You would have only a fuzzy memory of some amazing sex with a mysterious woman. Of course, you would be completely exhausted for a week or more, but eventually you would recover, none the wiser."

"Then why are you telling me this? What do you mean, 'if you let me leave'" Rod asked, suspiciously.

"Because I have decided NOT let you leave here, darling. When I pick up occasional men, I am forced to gorge myself, which leaves them useless to me for weeks, so I discard them. It is more healthful for me, however, and more pleasant for the man," she smiled seductively, "If I have a regular lover from whom I can take smaller amounts of sexual energy more frequently. Until he passed away, Charles was a wonderful slave who met my needs several times a week, several times daily, when he was younger, like you. Since then, I have not been able to feed nearly often enough. It is dangerous picking up strange men, you know. There are too many diseases out there now."

"Then, too, a strong man around a big house like this come in handy, you know," she added, running her fingers through his hair, almost tenderly. "I need a new slave and you'll be perfect."

"Slave?" Fear filled his eyes.

"Or lover," she reassured. Whatever you call it, all I have to do is take you to bed with me. I'll make you enjoy it so much that after a while, you will never want to leave. "Gladly you will become my devoted servant and passionate lover. You have what I need, and soon you will need what I have, what only I can give you, rod." She saw fear in his eyes, fear fighting with lust. She touched his cheek "Fear not, my sweet, I always make sure men enjoy serving and feeding me."

"Sabah!" he protested. "You can't do ... I won't ..."


Sabah and Rod



A sequel to “Sabah”

Slowly, like an Artic dawn, consciousness seeped back into Rod's addled but languorously contented brain. He attempted to open his eyes, but soon gave up the effort. He felt weak, as if suffering from a high fever. That would explain the wild delusions he half remembered. He tried to recall them, but all he could manage were feelings - fear, warmth, protection. Soon even this effort exhausted him and he drifted back to sleep.

The next time he awoke, he managed to open his eyes fully. Light fell through the window at a sharp angle, indicating mid-day. Rod was rather proud of himself for this deduction. He must have been unconscious -- it didn't feel like mere sleep -- for many hours, or could it be days? He wasn't strong enough to lift his head, but he could roll it from side to side to gain some idea of his surroundings. The bed where he lay was in a rather sumptuous room -- heavy curtains, dark wood, cabinets and chests around the walls. That seemed to rule out a hospital and injury in an accident. He had been driving last night, or that night, right? Yes, driving in the snowstorm when the car broke down. He tried to remember more. The large, dark house on the hill, a woman, who had made him feel warm and safe and then so sleepy. Yes, sleepy. The memory lulled him and he closed his eyes again in slumber.

When Rod opened his eyes the next time, he realized he had eaten, or had been fed. A tray was beside the bed with what looked like the remains of soup and an empty glass. Morning light entered the room. Another day, at least, had passed and he felt stronger. The room was the same, but different as if it had been tidied up. A hint of perfume hung in the air, the perfume of the woman who made him feel so warm and sleepy and -- that was it -- horny. His cock stirred as he remembered her smile, the cleft of her breasts, the thin gown that clung to her voluptuous body. She was indefinitely older than he and exuded an air of having had many men and of wanting him. He remembered a feeling of danger, of knowing he should not to look at her, but she had wanted him to look; her smile, her eyes, her body had MADE him look. It was so confusing -- and arousing -- thinking was difficult. He relented for a while and lay still absorbing the peace and healing and slight arousal he felt surrounding him.

He was not aware of having drifted off again, but when he turned over he saw a different plate on the tray and he was wearing a different pajama. He felt refreshed, as if he had been bathed. The perfume was stronger and he sensed it emanated from the other side of the bed, which was rumpled. He tried again to remember what had happened that night. Scenes without before and after floated into his mind. The warmth, feeling protected, the woman's strong arms holding him to her breasts. She had cooed as he fondled and suckled her breasts. And she had been on top of him, making love to him, coming to multiple orgasms before making him shoot his seed into her. Later or before? She had pressed a sweet liquid to his lips and told him to sleep. He didn't want to drink. He somehow knew it was drugged, he didn't want her to put him to sleep, but she was touching his penis as she spoke and it felt too good to refuse her. She smiled as he sipped the liquid and she laid him back. She spoke in a dreamy singsong as drowsiness overtook him. He felt more and more at ease and allowed her to cuddle him close to herself. Fighting sleep, he succumbed in her arms, his head buried in her breasts as she gently fondled him.

Again he awoke without knowing how long he slept. The curtains were drawn closed, but he believed it was day. His strength was definitely returning. He felt able to sit up. He tried to do so, but fell back. Immediately he realized it was not from weakness; he was tied to the bed. Soft cuffs on his writs and ankles were attached to the four corners of the bed by strong cords. They had sufficient play to allow him to turn to each side and were not really uncomfortable, but he was restrained. He was a prisoner – HER prisoner!

Panic flared and he again tried to sit up, then to pull hard on the cords. He only succeeded in setting off a chime alarm. Continued pulling led to nothing. The chime stopped.

"Good morning, love," said a recorded voice. "I'm glad you are feeling stronger and I am sorry I can't be with you right now. Please forgive my having to restrain you. I have to ensure you stay with me and, as I both feared and hoped, taming your will has taken longer than the recovery of your strength. Please don't tire yourself in fruitless struggle, my sweet. I've only done this to make sure you don't leave me. Just relax and in a few days I can free you from these bonds."

The woman's calm voice, Sabah's voice -- he remembered her name -- only set him to more desperate struggle. The chime sounded again.

"Oh, my pretty lover, I don't want to have to do this, but I cannot let you continue struggling that way. You will only exhaust and harm yourself. I want your strength for myself, not wasted futilely. Since you did not willing do as I told you to rest and relax, I must compel you do it, my angel; I must make you sleep."

Rod continued to struggle without effect. "Now, now, sweetheart, please do not struggle. You should smell something different, a little bit sweet, seeping up from your pillow. Don't worry. It's just a light anesthetic, my darling. Don't you already feel more relaxed? Getting a little drowsy? It's a very special sleepy gas, honey that should put you in a peaceful, happy mood. Peaceful and happy and something else to remind you of me, darling." 

The voice paused "Breath deeply my love. Are you starting to feel good? And horny? I have a few more things to tell you, dear, and nothing gets a man more relaxed and in a mood to do as a woman tells him than a good come darling. If I were there in your bed, I would make soft sleepy love to you and you would not be able to hold your eyes open. But I'm not there, so the gas must do my work for me. It's getting bad, isn't it honey, being so horny? You want to come; you need to come, but you don't have my warm wet pussy to pleasure you. But you know what you can do; you'll just have to get yourself off and go to sleep."

Rod seemed to shudder with the effort to ignore the seductively dominant voice that had his prick was twitching helplessly. "No ... wrong ...can't give in ... don't want to listen ... don't want to sleep," he protested, half consciously.

"No, dear, it cannot be wrong to listen to me, to yield yourself to me. It would be wrong if you pleasured yourself instead of me. It would be wrong to please yourself alone if I were there and wanted you to stuff your big cock up my pussy, to fill me with your thick jism, if I wanted to drink your sweet cum as I pleasured you with my mouth, or even if I wanted to give you a hand job just to see you close your pretty eyes in helpless ecstasy for me. But I'm not there. So you will make yourself come … for me."

Rod's face was set with determination "No, no!" he muttered, but the voice ignored him.

"There's a tube of lubricant under your pillow, darling. Use a lot of it on your hand; it will make it so much nicer when you slide your slick hand up and down your cock to cum for me." Rod lay motionless. "Please hurry, honey. The gas must be making you sleepier and I don't what you to go to sleep frustrated. Frustration makes you hard and difficult. I want you soft and compliant; I want your mind soft and saturated with the pleasure of a nice big come, unresisting, easy for my words to penetrate. Do it darling! You know how much you need it."

Shaking his head in defeat, Rod slowly reached under the pillow and took out the tube, squeezing a generous portion of the ointment onto his trembling hand. Dazed by lust and the ever-present weakness, Rod did not wonder how the voice seemed to know what he was doing or to notice the sensors on his body that could have supplied the answer. He gasped as he took his hard, thick cock in his slippery hand.

The voice took note and spoke, "That's the way my poor horny darling, slide it up and down your prick big and hard for me. Make yourself feel good, sweetie ... that's it. Make believe it's me pleasuring you. See my big tits bouncing as I ride you. Feel my soft wide ass in your hands as you guide me. It's my warm wet pussy that's making you feel so good, so relaxed. That's it, darling, you're getting closer. So sleepy, so horny, so close. You feel it, don't you darling. Come ... now ... for ME."

"Sabah, Oh Sabah ... Sabah ... Sabah" Rod groaned as thick ropes of jism soiled his pajama. His hand fell slack and his head lolled in unconsciousness. The instruments detected the fall in blood pressure, the decelerating heartbeat. "Yes, my precious. You've had a good come. Now you are drained, tranquil and sated. No thoughts, no frustrations, love. Now you can go to sleep, a deep, deep sleep, my angel. Sleep ... sleep ...sleep," the voice died away as a faint empty smile passed over Rod's face. The hiss of subliminal instructions began again.

***** 

This time Rod felt different when he awoke, stronger and energetic, but more peaceful. At a sound, he turned and saw the woman came in with a tray. This was the Sabah he remembered. Taller than he even without the heels, she wore a short tunic that fell loosely around her abundant yet perfectly feminine form. Something of her confident smile confirmed she was much his senior, though she was untouched by wrinkle or line. The food she placed before him was different -- meat, potatoes, a large salad. A carafe of wine sat by the plate. Without consciously remembering he knew that before he had eaten only soups and liquids. "Sabah?" he questioned.

"Shh, love. Eat. Regain your strength. Time enough for answers later." He saw he was still bound, but did as she told him. He was famished and ate and drank heartily. "Finish your wine, too, my sweet," she grinned as the last morsels of food disappeared. He looked at her with apprehension. "Go on. What are you afraid of?” she teased, “That I'll get you tipsy and take advantage of you?” He accepted the glass from her hand and drank obediently.

"Why this, Sabah" he asked holding up an arm, a bond hanging in a curve to the bedpost.

"Symbolic, my pet. Do you see how you are bound?"

"Silk scarves."

"MY silk scarves. But they are loose. Couldn't you slip out of them?"

"Of course," he replied confidently.

"Then do so ... if you wish."

Rod began to pull on the scarf looped around his left hand when he felt the fingers of his right hand grow tingly as if "asleep." Slowly the weakness spread up his arm until he could hardly hold it up, much less free himself. "I ... I can't," he said with a mixture of wonder and a little fear. "I am still a prisoner."

"No, Rod. You could leave if you wanted to. You can't slip the bonds because you don't really want to leave me. The ties mean you belong to me. And you WANT to belong to me."

"'Belong?'"

"Yes, sweetheart. You belong to me because I rescued you from the storm. Do you remember the storm? How terrified you were?"

A storm. Yes he remembered a storm. He supposed he had been terrified. He nodded.

"And you remember how cold and wet you were? You had nowhere else to go. I took you in."

Yes, he remembered the wet and cold and this beautiful woman who opened the door. He nodded again.

"We sat on the couch and talked and I made you drink tea. And then do you remember what happened?" She was smiling.

Rod paused, ashamed of himself as the memory returned. "I ... I got aroused," he almost whispered.

"I GOT you aroused," she grinned. "Yes, I opened my gown to let you see my titties and like a naughty boy you couldn't keep your eyes off them. And when I spread my legs a little, you kept trying to see if I had on panties. You were very horny, weren't you?"

"Yes ma'am," he admitted, his cock stirring, feeling like the naughty boy she described.

"I could see your cock getting big, but I wasn't angry with you, was I?"

"No ma'am."

"Of course I wasn't, Rod. I know what happens to healthy young men who are alone in a cozy room with a sexy older woman. I wanted to arose you. I wanted to make you so horny you'd want me to fuck you. And I did, didn't you?"

"Not exactly."

She smiled. "Well, of course your male ego made you try to resist being seduced. You thought you should take the initiative, silly boy. And you were a little bit frightened of me. But I got you over that, didn't I. Do you remember how?

Rod could not speak for embarrassment.

"Don't feel ashamed, love. A horny man can't resist a woman who offers him her warm, wet pussy to eat. You did love eating me, didn't you?"

"Yes ma'am," he agreed.

"That's right, Rod. And you pleasured me so well, so naturally. And when you finished, my dear, you were so drugged on my pussy juice, you were helpless when I mounted you. You had never had a woman take you from on top, had you?"

"No ma'am."

"But you loved it when I made love to you that way? Loved the helpless, vulnerable feeling of being taken and used, used for my pleasure?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And that's why you will be happy being my mate, belonging to me, making me happy, satisfying my needs."

"Your needs?" a little smile animated Rod's face.

"Oh, those needs too, my refractory lover. Yes I need a good fuck as much as the next woman, much more, in fact, and I don't always want to be on top. Sometimes I'll let you please me with that big prick of yours, just being my man, pounding me through so many orgasms I loose control. But I have other needs, too. You will learn more about that in due course, my pet. Fortunately, you do not need to understand my needs to service me. You did so the night I first took you. Since then I have been nursing your strength back. I think you are strong enough for little feeding."

"'Feeding?'"

"It's an analogy, dear. I need energy, sexual energy. When you come with me, I can choose to grasp the energy of our orgasm. The stronger you are, the more often you can satisfy me ... in every way" she grinned.

"You take my energy?" Rod replied in what would have been a protest had he not been so confused.

"But it's my energy, too, Rod, because you belong to me, right?

"I guess," he replied, hardly thinking.

"And I always make it feel good to give it to me, don't I," she asked and reached over to touch his half-erect penis.

"Oh, yes!" he gasped as a thrill ran through him.

"Would you let me feed a little now? It will be different this time. Before I took what I needed. You were helpless and could not refuse. I don't want it that way and I hope you do not"

"Sabah!" he sighed as she continued to fondle him.

"I want more than a slave, Rod, more than your wonderful body, more than your raw energy. I want you to give yourself to me."

Rod looked up at her. Fear and lust battled for his soul.

"Of course you would, my angel, because I'm making you horny again, making you want to come. But you are still too weak to give me much. Let's just make this a snack," she giggled. "How do you like this, my darling?" And without waiting for a reply, she dropped her mouth on to Rod's fully erect member. The aroused young man could only moan his pleasure as Sabah's warm wet mouth slid rapidly up and down his engorged cock. She was not interested in prolonging his orgasm and his teased body responded rapidly. In seconds Rod was filling Sabah's mouth with spurt after spurt of come, which she swallowed hungrily. The familiar taste and inflowing energy triggered her own powerful orgasm.

When her head cleared and she felt his final drops ooze out, Sabah removed her mouth from his cock and slid softly into the bed beside Rod. Freeing his limbs from the now un-needed restraints, gently she kissed him, letting him taste his own spend in her mouth, but Rod was too overwhelmed to respond. "Thank you, my darling," she whispered. "Now you are truly mine and you were as sweet as I knew you would be. Now you must rest." A slight tensing showed a flicker of instinctual resistance but Sabah quickly stifled it with a kiss and pulled Rod's nodding head to her ample bosom. "Yes, like that, my baby. Snuggle close to me, in my arms. Let me take care of you, my precious. Sleep with me Rod. Sleep, my darling, ... sleep."

Sabah placed a firm breast to Rod's mouth and smiled as the young man unconsciously tried to suckle from her erect nipple as he gradually grew still. Minutes later when her own practiced hand had sent a final wave of pleasure surging over her, Sabah snuggled against Rod's hard chest and closed her eyes. Soon both were cuddled together, sleeping so peacefully entwined that who could tell if the handsome young man or the beautiful older woman was the slave.

Comment, please, to: Homer Vargas 



Sabah at the Ball



A sequel to "Sabah and Rod"

***

Proofread and edited by Pet Tigress. Any remaining errors are my own. 

***

Rod slowly pulled himself back to exhausted consciousness. He smiled weakly, knowing why he felt dissipated in this way. Sabah had Fed again last night. It was getting familiar. A Feeding was like an attack of malaria, he mused, several days of dreamy lassitude, then a gradual recovery to normal. But even if it were possible, Rod had no desire to be cured of these attacks. First, because he knew he was pleasing Sabah. More than pleasing her, he sustained her. Her very life depended on the sexual energy she absorbed from him during that orgasmic fury. That was wonderful knowledge: his beautiful, sexy, marvelous Mistress needed HIM.

Then too, during his recovery Sabah would spend the days pampering and coddling him. Lovemaking with Sabah would be especially gentle and even more frequent. And he knew she would let him loll for hours, drinking from the fountain of her self as he worshiped and pleasured her. Her cum nourished him, she said. Sabah was very excited about this discovery and said it made their relationship more symbiosis than parasite-prey as with her previous lovers.

Finally, the Feeding itself was never less than wonderful. He enjoyed making love with Sabah morning and night (and when she was feeling frisky, during the day, too). But ordinary sex was nothing compared to a Feeding. She always made it special.

He still remembered the one a few months after coming to live with her. It was typical, if any one of a series of unique adventures can be said to be typical. He never knew exactly when the usual, mind-blowing sex would become a Feeding, although of course he knew that Sabah seldom went for more than three or four weeks without one. Thus he was expecting nothing extraordinary when she called him to their bedchamber early one evening. 

Perfectly posed and perfectly naked, Sabah sat smiling on the edge of her bed, the bed she let him share. A long green gown that would hug every inch of her perfect body lay beside her. An emerald choker Rod had never seen was on the dressing table nearby. Her dark hair was piled high on her head. She was preparing for an evening out. Rod was struck by her beauty and felt regret that he could not accompany her wherever it was she was going.

"It's the Winchester League Spring Charity Ball tonight, my sweet," she said reading the question on his face. "Will you help me dress?" Not needing to wait for his reply she nodded to indicate the pair of high-top stockings he had overlooked. Unquestioningly, Rod took them and, dropping to his knees before her, began to tug and roll the delicate fabric up her long firm legs. As he neared the crotch the aroma of her arousal overpowered him. He looked up at her with the unstated petition in his eyes.

"Of course, you may, my darling, at least for a few minutes." Rod's joy knew no bounds as he thrust his head between Sabah's luscious thighs and drank deeply of her essence. Sometimes Rod did not know which form of worship was best. This had the advantage of being more selfless, not that HE did not enjoy bringing Sabah to climax with his mouth and tongue, and he could prolong it for hours. Yet, ultimately he had to prefer what she did, and no matter how many time he got her off otherwise, Sabah ultimately loved to be penetrated, long, hard, repeated thrusts of his large cock into her vagina. Perhaps it was the only time, if only for a few seconds, but when he was pounding hard into her, she totally lost control.

Unaware of when she bid him stop, Rod was suddenly conscious of Sabah's face smiling down at him. "Time for me to finish getting dressed, my sweet. I can't let you make us late." She waited just long enough to detect his happiness as he understood the meaning of her words. "Your tux is on the bed, sweetheart," she laughed. "Did you think I wanted to spend a night around a bunch of stuffy high-society types without you, my love?"

Now it was Sabah's turn to marvel as she cast admiring glances at Rod while she finished slipping into the gown and matching heels. She had stripped Rod of all shyness before her, so he disrobed and began to dress with the natural grace of serpent changing its skin. She loved to look at his hard naked body, the firm jaw, the black curls. In her centuries of existence, she had never had such a slave, such a lover.

Since he had come to live with her, she had put him on a weight training and high protein regimen. A few pounds of office flab had been replaced by several more of hard, lean muscle. Sometimes she could not believe her luck that his beautiful, intelligent man was hers. Her need had been so great the night of the storm, she would have settled for far less. But when she saw him fully dressed in the evening attire that just hinted at the hunk hidden within, she found herself humming, "Someday My Prince Will Come." Hers had.

"Here are the keys, darling. Take us to the ball."

Sabah was glad she had kept and lovingly preserved the old Lincoln. The wide bench seats were perfect for scroonching close and laying her head in Rod's lap like a happy cat. As he drove the beautiful old car along the twisting mountain road toward the little county seat, she resisted the urge to open his fly and suck the erection she felt in his pants. She was saving that for later. His gentle stroking of her hair and neck had almost put her to sleep when she felt him decelerate and enter the winding street of the old town on what had been the Virginia frontier.

Although the town was perhaps 1500 feet lower than her property up in the Blue Ridges, the sun had set and an early spring nip was in the air. The old stone country club had been torn down and replaced by a faux-Classical Revival building that Sabah hated, but tonight it was blazing with light that illuminated the surrounding grounds. Sabah threw her fur around her shoulders and waited for Rod to open the door. A valet took the car as they made their entrance.

Rod was too happy being with this wonderful woman to be conscious of the impression the couple made on the already gathered guests. It would not have occurred to him that every man in the room envied him, the man at the side of this spectacular woman. Sabah was well know in the little town, but no one could remember seeing her like this, brimming with life, scintillating sex appeal. And who was the tall muscular young man with her? Nor would Rod have suspected the depth of instant jealousy the other women felt when the saw Sabah and their husbands' reactions. What had SHE done to deserve an Adonis like him? A thousand generations of feminine intuition told them the young hunk was totally infatuated with the older woman and that Sabah had him fucking her silly.

"Sabah! Good to see you," boomed the friendly voice of Charles Landsworth, Chairman of the League. "Glad you could come." Melanie, Charles's wife, was drifting their way, a slight scowl on her face.

"Good evening, Charles, Melanie," Sabah greeted them. "I'd like you to meet my new ... friend, Rod." Melanie lifted an eyebrow. The pleasantries continued, but Sabah didn't miss Melanie's judgmental attitude. She could almost hear the sarcastic remarks the blond trophy wife would have liked to make, 'He's a little young for you, isn't he?' 'Where did you pick him out, in a sports bar?' as well as the one she would never have verbalized, though she was dying to know, 'Does he fuck as good as he looks?'

Sabah was tired of Melanie. She had tried to be friendly. She had been truly happy that Charles had found someone so soon after his first wife's death. Sabah guessed that the young woman had seduced him, but Charles seemed happy. Sabah understood perfectly well that Melanie was jealous of Sabah's independent standing in the community, while she lived only in Charles's reflected glow.

Sabah also suspected Melanie secretly regretted giving up her exciting, if poorly paid life as a junior lobbyist in Washington for the financial security of Charles's money, which she spent with abandon. But understanding Melanie did not make her any easier to stomach. Sabah particularly resented Melanie for not realizing what a treasure she had in Charles. When she allowed herself to pick up impressions, Sabah had confirmed what his face showed: Charles totally adored his new wife even though -- and this had been a surprise to Sabah -- she eyedroppered out the sex to her still lusty husband.

Melanie definitely had her clique. Sabah noticed that the group of Melanie's snooty friends, Agatha Witherspoon, Grace Chriswell, Darlene Simms, and Marjory Gresham, avoided Rod and her throughout the before-dinner cocktails. She noted the slight aura of hatefulness around the group. Maybe the time had come to do something about that, she grinned.

Soon the crowd was called to their seats. Just as Sabah and Rod were to sit down, Charles came over to take Sabah to the head table. "I have no idea what this is about, honey," she whispered to Rod as Charles led her away. As she took her place at her place to the right of the Chairman, everyone applauded.

Rod could see on Sabah's face that everything was a total surprise to her as it was even more to him. He only understood after dinner when the Chairman announced that Sabah Noor was being recognized as Winchester's "Citizen of the Year." Rod knew of course that his Mistress was an amazing woman, but he had no idea of all her civic activities. Not only had she donated considerable sums to many worthy projects and served on many committees, but she also volunteered at a nearby hospice. One of the sisters stood to give an emotional testimony of how Sabah had an almost magical power to calm and cheer the lonely dying people. Rod found himself choked up with joy and pride for his marvelous Mistress. He noticed, however, the group of Melanie and her fiends in one section of the hall who only looked on sullenly. Sabah noticed as well.

Sabah's acknowledgement was brief and tinged with self- deprecating humor, but Rod had no doubt she was genuinely touched by the community's gesture. "So thank you all again," she said in closing, "but if I'm not mistaken, this is a ball. So, Let's DANCE!"

Nodding to the orchestra that struck up a slow waltz, Sabah walked to the center of the empty dance floor. A nod in his direction told Rod what to do. Although embarrassed, he rose and made his way among the tables to Sabah's side. The embarrassment evaporated the moment she slipped into his arms. For several long seconds the entire gathering was struck silent by the stunning older woman and the handsome young man gliding around the floor. The dance was perfectly proper, but the two bodies moving as one seemed to generate an erotic field around them.

One by one, other couples began to join them on the floor and soon the room was filled with happy, laughing husbands and wives, some of whom hadn't danced together for years. As if by magic, however, feet remembered dance steps long thought forgotten. Wisely, the band kept to tunes from ten or twenty years earlier, when the mostly middle age crowd had been dating. Everything was going according to plan, Sabah smiled.

"Huh?" Rod realized he had been so caught up in the sensuous pleasure of dancing with Sabah in his arms, he had not quite heard what she said.

"Never mind, love. We're going to mix things up a little. Just tell that to all the women you dance with and the other thing to Melanie."

"Tell what?" he asked, but Sabah had already slipped away to invite Charles to dance. Rod grinned at Melanie's obvious displeasure as he offered his arm to one of her friends who, like Melanie, had not joined in the dancing. It was Agatha Chriswell, a plump but pleasant looking woman; pleasant-looking, that is, if she didn't have that superior expression on her face, Rod thought.

The band had been playing a Western Quickstep, but dropped the pace to something slower as the mixed couples got the feel of each other. Rod murmured something to Agatha and she quickly felt comfortable in his arms. Well, more than comfortable. Rod was surprised and a little dismayed as the woman began to press herself against him more and more tightly. When he felt her actually start to grind her crotch to his groin, Rod looked around nervously for Sabah. He caught her eye nearby and she winked.

Fortunately there was a break between songs and Rod was able to slip from Agatha's ardent grasp. Although they were not necessarily the most attractive women there, Rod found himself asking one after another of Melanie's friends to dance. The pattern with Agatha repeated itself, indeed it got worse. Rod introduced himself to Agatha with the mumbled addendum and the woman practically went into rut. Grace Witherspoon danced him into a corner and dragged his hands down to her rather too-ample ass. Marjory Simms groped his crotch, but Rod put it down to the frustrations of widowhood. Darlene Gresham managed to get Rod's hand into her blouse and Lord knows what would have happened to her bra if another break in the music hadn't rescued him.

When he finally stood before Melanie, she looked up at him with a cold smile. "Why not Roddy? We'll dance, but just because you're a pretty boy, don't expect me to come onto you. I'm not an overage teenager like them." Melanie tossed her head in contempt at her companions who were now dancing like cats in heat with their delighted husbands.

"What's wrong with a man and wife having fun, Melanie? Besides, ..." 

Melanie gave a little gasp as Rod finished speaking. "Er... nothing, I guess," she said and slid a little closer into Rod's arms. True to her word, Melanie did not throw herself at him as the other women had, but she seemed to be in some sort of torment. The music had picked up the tempo and Melanie was becoming visibly excited as Rod turned and twirled her. She was double- stepping the beat and flinging her arms into the air as if in some sort of jungle frenzy. Soon perspiration had soaked her silky blouse, revealing a bra straining to contain Melanie's impressive superstructure.

When the set ended, Rod led a panting, fiery-eyed Melanie back to the table where Sabah was now sitting with Charles. Sabah seemed to be just finishing up something she was whispering in Charles's ear when Sabah nudged him. Looking up and shaking his head as if awaking from a dream, Charles's eyes lit up as they fell on Melanie. It was a Melanie he had not seen in a long time, if ever. Her eyes were wide, her nostrils flared. Everything about his wife screamed that she was hot and needed to be fucked. It was a look Charles had longed for and he rose and took her in his arms.

"Good work, baby. Want to see how good?" Sabah giggled as she led Rod away from the pair who were starting to paw one another. Suddenly Rod noticed the entire ballroom was almost deserted. Most had left, having drifted home to bed but not to sleep, he suspected. In a few corners couples were making out, but it wasn't a few bared breasts and hiked skirts Sabah wanted to show her mate. Giggling softly she tugged him toward a lounge area.

To his shock Rod saw Melanie's entire set of friends - but never like this! Agatha Chriswell was on her back, her heals in the air, mewing and humping as the pudgy Raymond Chriswell was fucking her like there was no tomorrow. "Yes, Ray baby hard! I need it!... Harder... HARDER!"

Grace Witherspoon was also on her back, but was not so happy. With both hands she had a death grip on the head of a man -- Rod was pretty sure it was Arthur Witherspoon -- between her legs as she complained. "Keep it up, you bastard! . Oh, yes, like that. Work that tongue, damn you! I need to get FUCKED, dammit. Uuuuh shit, how much longer 'til that god-damned Viagra kicks in?"

Marjory Simms had no such problems. The too-thin red-head was fully on board the cock of a grunting, heaving black man that Rod recognized as the trombone player from the band. "Oh, yeah baby. Give me more of that cock, you animal!  Ooohhhhh, YES! So fucking BIG... Uhhhhngggg... like that, right up in there where mamma's pussy NEEDS it!  I'm taking you home, honey. You're gonna make me ...Aaaaiiiiieee!" the bouncing woman squealed as she climaxed.

Darlene Gresham wasn't saying much; how could she? On her knees, her face was in the crotch of an astounded waiter, sucking him as if it was her first drink after crossing the Sahara. Meanwhile, a very exercised Rutherford Gresham had his hands on Darlene's upturned ass and was pounding away vehemently at his wife's gushing pussy, making her groan with each thrust.

"Take THAT, you bitch for never wearing miniskirts and heels as I wanted you to, and THAT for always turning the lights out when we fuck!" he spat as he slammed into her again. "And THAT for only doing it on weekends!" Rutherford was obviously releasing a lot of long pent-up frustrations. "And THAT." Rod winced at the force with which the seemingly mild-mannered accountant was ramming his prick into his whimpering wife's dripping cunt. "THAT's for never letting me kiss and suck on those COW tits of yours and THAT," Rod was afraid he was going to injure the woman, "Is for never letting me eat this FUCKING HOT PUSSEEEEEYYY!"

Sabah tugged Rod's hand again to depart the mini-orgy. He took a step toward the exit, but Sabah smiled and motioned with her head back toward the ballroom. There on the table where she had sat, was Melanie, moaning with arousal, her knees bent and her drenched pussy open to Charles rampant prick. Her husband was teasing her, brushing her pussy lips, giving her tiny pokes that made her squirm, running his rather impressive member up and down his writhing wife's slit. They appeared to be renegotiating their relationship. 

"Yes, Charles, anything, baby! Just fuck me. ... God, I need it so bad. No, I'll never refuse you again, promise, I promise! Huh? No, not that!" Charles seemed to slow his attack. "No, Charles! Please, baby, don't stop now. I need to be FUUUCKED! All right, yes, Yes YES! Fuck me and you can make me pregnant. What? Noooo ... oooh ...Yes! Two, three, anything darling, as many babies as you want. Keep me pregnant all the time, but FUUUK MEEEiiiiiieee!"

"Let's go, Love," Sabah almost growled. "I'm hungry!" 

Perhaps she had planned it all along or perhaps the orgy she had orchestrated triggered it, but Rod saw that Sabah was about to Feed. "Hurry, darling! Get me home." 

Sabah had been wild in the car, insisting that she drove so Rod could use the front slit of her gown to eat her. The car swayed each time he brought her to orgasm and he prayed she would slow down. They arrived in record time and alive, fortunately. Sabah had almost torn off her clothes and his, getting him in bed. There was nothing slow and romantic about THIS Feeding. Sabah TOOK him. Screaming with passion she threw herself down on his cock over and over. The sexual frenzy of her Feeding communicated itself to Rod who humped back with almost superhuman stamina. The scene appeared that of a she lion devouring a gazelle, except this prey was larger than the predator and it was doing everything possible to BE devoured. Rod had blacked out at the height of their simultaneous orgasm.

*****

Yes, that had been one of the best ones, Rod mused, waiting for Sabah to come in with breakfast -- she always brought him a big breakfast for him the morning after a Feeding. And enough time had passed for the results of Sabah's prank to become evident. Within days of the ball, the wardrobes of Agatha, Grace, Darlene, Marjory, and of course Melanie had improved dramatically. The five women organized a joint shopping trip to Tyson's Corner and came back with two SUVs packed full of miniskirts, push- up bras, almost-illegal blouses, fuck-me heels, stockings, and an assortment of sleepwear guaranteed to keep a husband, or in Marjory's case, a growing roster of boyfriends, from sleeping. Arthur Witherspoon, Raymond Chriswell, Rutherford Simms, and Charles Landsworth couldn't believe their luck. Suddenly they had wives who not only dressed like women during the day, they fucked like minxes at night.




Sabah at the Ball



Grace, Agatha, and Darlene joined a local gym to loose a few pounds. Summer was coming and they were licking their lips at their husbands' reactions when they saw their wives in string bikinis. Melanie joined, too, realizing she needed strength training, as often as Charles was fucking her. Marjory, on the other hand, wanted to put on some weight. Her new fiancee, Jamal White, the Washington Wizards' center forward, thought Marjory needed a few more curves to complement her astounding libido. 

The gym program hadn't lasted long, Rod chuckled, or at least the exercise regime soon had to be changed. One by one over the last month or so, each woman had started showing off some very sexy new maternity dresses.

Comments please to the link below.



Sabah



"Hush," she said tenderly and kissed him, taking hold of his cock again and starting to rub it vigorously but deliciously. "Do not say silly things. I know what I can do to you, what I have done to you. I am now your succubus. I have been in your mind. After our little chat, I understand you completely. I know your weaknesses and how to take advantage of them. I know how to turn you on, rod, whether you want to be or not. Like most human males, you have a secret desire to be bedded and dominated by a beautiful woman. With me, I will fulfill your deepest, darkest fantasy."

"No, Sabah, I don't want that!" he protested. "I won't let you ..."

"Yes, rod, domination. Enthrallment. I control your desires, can make you screw me any time I want," she smiled hungrily. "And since I have not had a man in far too many days, I want you now!" She arose from the couch in a fluid movement. "You will watch me closely while I remove my gown." She shrugged her shoulders and the jet satin flowed to the floor. Her pale flesh gleamed in the dim light. "Seeing me naked is arousing you intensely. You are becoming very excited, rod. Having intercourse with me is the capstone of the spell of enslavement. It will seal the trance that will make you mine forever."

"I won't let you do that," he objected. "I won’t!"

"Yes, you will. You will because I have used a drug on you that destroys your mind's last defenses against my control. It makes you weak and permits me to do with you as I wish. It is a powerful drug, rod, much more so than the silly potion I put in your tea. It will put you into a deep, deep sleep." She moved back to the couch and spread her legs for him.

"A drug?" Rod said skeptically, looking around for any sign of a hypodermic or pills. She could see that he was regaining some control of his speech and thoughts. Soon voluntary control of his limbs would creep back into his body, as the effects of the drugged tea faded. He was almost dangerous. Magnificent! She must act in time.

Sabah laughed. "We succubae have been using this drug to make men ours for eons. Men know and fear its power. It is a drug, which can become a habit, a drug that the man instinctively knows can make him a slave to the woman who gives it to him. You know what I mean, Rod. Why do so many men resist going down on their women? They fear the power of the drug. But when a female of my kind offers a man the potion, he cannot help taking it. YOU cannot help taking it," she said, her eyes glowing into his.

He shook his head, his eyes glazed with both lust and horror. He tried to avert his gaze, but he was powerless to prevent her from opening her sex to him. He could not avert his gaze from the wet, inviting sight. She was beginning to tease her slit. With the other hand she caressed his face, his shoulders and chest, and gently brought his face closer to her warm moist pussy. "Men allow us to drug you because you enjoy too much they way we administer it," she gloated. "Drink!"

"Sabah, stop!" he pleaded, looking up into her eyes.

"Are you sure you want me to stop?" she smiled, teasing her pussy with her supple fingers as she drew his mouth slowly closer. "We give you the drug with our pussies, rod. I secrete a mind-controlling hormone from between my legs. Drink it, rod. It will be absorbed by your mouth when you eat me. It goes into your blood and flows to your brain. It will make you my slave. Don't make me stop, rod. You will love the way I drug you. You will come back to me for it often. You will have to keep coming back to me again and again for additional doses."

Amazingly his head moved no closer. He was struggling to break free. Sabah had never seen such force of will. It frightened her and excited her as she had never felt. She MUST have him!

"Look at my breasts!" Her tone changed as she changed the subject, confusing him further. "I want you to kiss my tits." She leaned closer, flaunting her bosom inches from his face, bringing her nipples, so proudly erect, close to his lips. "Kiss them," she coaxed. "Lick them. Suck on them."

The languor which arose from her hand stroking his prick had spread through his body and mind, making further resistance unthinkable. She slipped one hand to the back of his neck and drew his face to her bosom. He moaned as his face sank into her voluptuous breasts. His obedient mouth found her nipple.

Now he was hers! She had rubbed her breasts with the philters and tranquilizing herbs. He was sinking quickly, his resistance gone. "Ah...that is so nice," the seductress sighed, her voice deepening with hunger and lust. "You do that very well, as I knew you would. I will teach you a thousand ways to please me. You are going to be a wonderful slave," she sighed as she pushed his head downward and released it. He needed no further guidance. His own fantasies took over as he fell to worshiping her pussy.

Sabah did not have long to wait until Rod's tongue and lips found her secret self. Aroused for hours, she came quickly and filled his mouth with her cum. He licked every drop, but he didn't stop! Even with her control, she had never been able to get Charles to do this. Rod was loving her sex with an enthusiasm Sabah had never experienced. Though she didn't think it possible, Rod brought her to a second and a third orgasm. She closed her eyes and let the waves of pleasure flood over her. Could he be the one?

At last her breathing returned to normal and she moved to straddle his hips. She took his face in her hands and spoke. "Tonight, darling, it is not just to feed on your energy, you know, nor even just to enslave you. I also have a woman's needs, too." she guided his penis between her vaginal lips. "You have come very far, and done very well. Please me once again and I will give you the reward I have made you long for."

With a complex flexing of her lower abdominal muscles, her nether lips reached out and sucked his cock inside her. "Best of all," she continued, leading his mind to be enveloped by hers as his manhood was swallowed within her body, "You do not have to do a thing. Just lie back, my darling, and let me work my will. Feel my pussy close around your cock. Feel it riding up and down the shaft of your manhood. You like this, don't you? Up ... and down, taking you deeper and deeper into me each time. From now on, I will take charge of your sex life and make you love it. It is so easy, rod. You love the way I fuck you. My pussy goes up ... and down ... up ... and down ... deeper and deeper. ... It is so relaxing, rod. You are going to close your eyes and surrender to the pleasure I am giving you. Close your eyes and let me fuck you...fuck you..."

"No, Sabah," he protested with the last of his strength and will. He was drunk on her love juices, almost overwhelmed by the sensual pleasure of her pussy around his cock, she saw, but that strength of character she had seen in him from the first instant rose up to defend his autonomy from her soft assault. How marvelous to find prey worthy of her powers and skills. She beamed down at him with admiration, as she continued to rock him into submission. He looked directly at her, and accused, "You ... can't ... hypnotize ... me!"

"But I can, rod. I am strengthening the hypnotic control I already have. You started going under when you first saw me. You drifted into a medium trance while we were talking as you drank my tea, right after you came in. Post-hypnotic suggestion left you weak and easy to arouse sexually. Now you are going under my spell again, deeply. Each time I fuck you, it will get easier to take you under my control, the control you will come to crave. Now be still and let me continue."

"No," he moaned vainly.

"Yes, rod. This feels too good to resist. You are getting so weak, my darling, and it feels so good to sink into my power. You are so drowsy, angel. You are struggling so hard to stay awake, my sweet. It's so tiring. Don't fight it, love. Close your eyes, my darling, and let me fuck you. Won't it be wonderful to fall asleep in my arms, rod? Let me put you into a deep sleep and when you awake you will be my happy sex slave. You'll no longer remember your former life. You will not need to think about anything but pleasing me. Serving me, feeding me, pleasing me will be your whole life, rod. I demand your all, rod, but the rewards are great."

She watched her words defeat him. She smiled as his eyes reluctantly closed and the determined expression on his face faded.

"Now relax completely, my sweet, while my cunt goes up and down on your cock and puts you to sleep ... up ... and down ... fucks you ... up ... and down .... Putting you to sleep ... up ... and down ... deeper ... up ... and down ... puts you to sleep ... fucks you to sleep ... fucks you ... to sleep.." Her voice became softer and her movements accelerated as she rode him towards orgasm.

"Now, my precious! Now!" He came at her command and she reached out with the immaterial part of herself, her own approaching orgasm enveloping and absorbing his sexual energy, feeding on it, as her body fed on his cum. Only when she felt him slacken and fall limp did she allow a her own fourth climax to wash over her.

She lay next to him for long delicious minutes as she felt the ebb of power from his body to hers, re-energizing her, nourishing her, rejuvenating her. Then, sated for a time, she looked down on the young man lying beneath her. Drained now, sleeping so peacefully, so profoundly. He was hers now, but what a possession! Surprisingly, she found she actually felt strong affection for him. He was innocent yet strong. He would serve her well for many years. The service would take its toll, of course, but with proper care, for many years just the same. She had never been particularly good at caring for her men. But this one seemed special. She would see that the years would be happy ones, filled with pleasure. Pleasure in serving her.

Perhaps, even ... it was too soon to think about that yet, even she could not know when the time would come, ... perhaps he would be the one chosen to give her the long-desired daughter. Perhaps he already had, she thought as she snuggled against his hard young body and joined him in sleep.

The End?

No. The story continues in "Sabah and Rod."

Comments are welcomed



Sabah's Mother



[This is a continuation of the Sabah series. I know it has been a long time and reading "Sabah," "Sabah and Rod," and "Sabah at the Ball" first will make this story more comprehensible, but all you absolutely NEED to know is that Sabah (and Mother) are slightly supernatural females who can control men and live by feeding on their sexual energy.]

Rod had floated happily off to town to buy supplies. "I hope I didn't fuck him so well he can't drive," Sabah thought to herself with a smirk, the young man's thick jism still leaking from her. Rod didn't get off to as early a start as Sabah at first intended, but it was her own fault. When she came back to the bedroom with breakfast for them, – she had made love to him until far into the night and decided he deserved the extra rest – he had just looked too good there in her bed, his hard young body exhausted after a night of pleasuring her. She couldn't pass him up. Breakfast grew cold while she awakened him, first tasting herself on his cock, and then making love to him again, riding him, doing all the work, letting the release of his seed into her warm depths and her soft words send him back to dreamy sleep for another hour as she cuddled with him, holding his soft cock in her drenched and temporarily sated pussy.

Showering with him later on had been another mistake if getting Rod on his way quickly were her object. But anyone hearing Sabah's cries as Rod cupped her large soapy breasts and took his older lover vigorously from behind would be persuaded that his speedy departure was not Sabah's primary intent. And letting Rod help her put on her stockings had been nice, although it did contribute to more delay. His firm hands on her thighs made her so wet, she could hardly deny her pussy to his hungry lips and lapping tongue. And when, after several orgasms, she wanted him in her again, well, she could hardly call that an error.

After Rod at last left, Sabah strolled down to the mailbox almost a quarter mile from the house, confident that no one would see her buxom form, wearing only a thin housecoat and the satisfied grin of a well-fucked woman. She was Feeding regularly now and the sex had never been better. Feeling in top of the world, she was back at the house now, mellow from sex and sipping her Irish coffee at the dining table as she opened her morning mail. Bills and such she put aside for Rod. 

The envelope with a gothic script caught her eye. Mother! Sabah chuckled to herself. For all of making herself out to be a modern woman, a middle-aged playgirl, Mother had never caught on to email and didn't really like the telephone, either. Although she lived only 60 miles away in downtown Washington, Sabah and her mother communicated almost exclusively by old fashioned letter. Sabah opened it eagerly, since it was the first she had received since hesitantly telling her mother about Rod.

Dearest Sabah,

Please forgive me for not having written sooner. To tell the truth, I have delayed writing because I know you will not be happy with what I have to say. I have received all your letters about this new male, "Rod." He certainly sounds like a fine physical specimen and I congratulate you on having obtained him, even if your story of his "capture," as you put it, did sound like a B movie script. I suspect you may be romanticizing even then. Neither can I fault you for having decided to "keep" him, given your decision, which I do not understand, to live in that remote backwater. [Come on, Mother, Sabah thought, 15 miles in the hills above Winchester in the Washington exurbia is hardly the end of the earth!] It certainly cannot be a good place to meet men. [True, but now, happily, the least of my concerns, Sabah sighed.]

What I do not understand, and cannot approve of, is this romantic attachment that you claim to feel for this young man. "In love" you say? Darling, you have been reading too many Harlequin Romances. Our kind does not love men. We NEED men to Feed on and of course we enjoy them for the sex. Naturally, you will want to take a certain amount of care of this male since you intend to continue using him for some time, but "falling in love" with a mortal man is just ridiculous!

I blushed in shame for you when I read:

"I spiraled upward as his tongue brought me closer and closer to orgasm. The fire in my loins consumed me. And when I exploded. I fell, not downward to Earth, but was upward, buoyed through a crystalline dome as ecstasy overcame me."

Honey, you had an apparently very well-trained young man between your legs. That's what men do; they get us off. You came! What's love got to do with it?

I am sorry to say you are still acting like an adolescent, and a foolish one. This Charles that you kept before was another such mistake. I know you claimed he could satisfy you even in his 50's, but that's just silly. The ideal lover/prey is an experienced nineteen-year old, although I admit that's a bit of a contradiction. I've found the best combination of carnal skill and physical stamina is the mid twenties, like your Rod. By all means enjoy this male for a while, if he's as good as you say, but please stop talking nonsense about making him yours for life.

I do, however, have some more pleasant reasons for not having written; I've been busy, too; you may guess how. [Sabah rolled her eyes.] You know I bought this new condo down around 8th and F. It's close to the Metro, shops, and restaurants; it has a great view of the Capitol and is just steps away from the National Gallery. What I didn't realize is how close it is to the Capitol Center where the "Wizards" play. I have never been one to watch competitive athletic events, rather resenting the time men nowadays would spend watching television instead of attending to my carnal needs, if I would allow it.

Still, I was in a neighborhood bar a few weeks ago feeling both horny and in need of a Feeding. I "attracted" a hunky young man, intending to take him straight back to my apartment for a midnight snack of both kinds, but he had tickets to a basketball game at the Capitol Center and asked me to go with him. I could have made him forget everything, but on a lark I agreed. I thought it would be fun to let this twenty-year old stud walk in with a forty-something -- for all he knew -- woman on his arm.

I had on a short, tight red skirt, stockings and heels, a little trashy for a woman of my age and build, but you know what I was in the bar for. Of course our breasts have always been our biggest assets and I was showing off mine in a flimsy blouse. Believe me; I made sure the men in our immediate vicinity paid a lot more attention to your mother than to the game. I could sense their thoughts about the "hot old bitch with no panties." Their lust was so exciting I was tempted to take my stud back to the apartment immediately, but Sabah, those basketball players! I had never seen such males! So tall, so graceful, so BLACK! I was dripping.

You know, growing up back in Rome, I never saw many black men, just an Ethiopian slave now and then. All my girlfriends were into fucking gladiators, and it was nice to sample studs from all over the empire, even if they never performed very will in the ring after a night with me. But all my girlish fantasies were focused on Gauls. Ah, honey, if you've never been carried off by a band of marauding Gauls, taken back to their dirty little Breton village, and ravished for weeks and weeks by a whole tribe of smelly, virile barbarians, you don't know what sex IS! I can still remember the big one; Oblix, I think his name was. And they had some kind of "magic potion" that let them keep fucking me non stop, over and over. The little one with the big mustache was the best. He was the only one who knew how to eat pussy. I was almost sorry to be rescued by the Roman army, except – well, you know how many men make up a Legion ... but I digress.

I had to meet these men. I dumped the guy from the bar and made my way to the dressing room after the game. You wouldn't believe the number of women, tall and short, busty and flat, blondes, redheads, Latinas and Asians all trying to get close to these dark gods of masculinity. The aroma of several hundred aroused pussies was overpowering. When Jesse, the team captain emerged, I looked him straight in the eye. He started, flared his nostrils, and pushed his way straight toward me. I let him give me a sizzling kiss as he took me in his arms. I was the envy of scores of disappointed women as I walked away with the prize -- Jesse's arm tight around my waist, his hand already squeezing my ass. His teammates, on the other hand, looked worried by the slightly vacant look on Jesse's face.

Let me tell you, honey, this Jesse is big in EVERY way. I make no racial generalizations. Probably white basketball players who are 6'11" and weight 230 pounds have enormous cocks, too. Maybe someday I'll do a careful comparison. Right now I'm too busy enjoying having this black giant and his teammates fuck me silly every night they're in town. Teammates? Well, of course. When I found he alone could not satisfy me, I brought in reinforcements.

I quickly learned not to Feed, even a little, during these sessions, having caused the team a couple of disastrous – interesting word -- "blowouts." They just come over and take turns going at me; "pulling a train" I think they call it. Too-Tooooot! Even so there was still a fly in this ointment. The Wizards coach does not believe it's good for players to have sex for 48 hours before a game (even with their ordinary wives and girlfriends). Having sent five large men staggering out of my apartment with silly grins on their faces after a night of fun with me, I can see his point.

Now it's not that I can't go several days without a man in me, and I can always find a fan to feed on from time to time, but why deny myself? Especially since I discovered a way to have my fun AND help my new friends. Just before games, I fuck the opposing team. I saunter into the hotel where they are staying and saunter out the next morning leaving the starting – interesting word –"lineup" and coaching staff with a three day testosterone deficit. You probably don't follow such things, but the Wizards are on top of their division and sports commentators are talking about their incredible "home court advantage." C'est moi!

Which brings me back to the point of this letter. Jesse tells me that in a couple of weeks the "March Craziness," or something like that begins. They want me to go with them – Jesse knows what I do to the other teams -- but I refuse to go off to Utah or Kentucky or some such Goddess forsaken place out West. Consequently, I shall have some time on my hands. Perhaps this would be a good occasion for you to bring your young man to visit me.

Love,

Mother

Sabah shook her head. Mother was forever "discovering" new coteries of men, each one better than the last. Crusaders, Florentine artists, Cavaliers, Redcoats, the post-Terror Directory, Confederate officers, Doughboys, RAF pilots, French underground, Astronauts, Rock Bands! Sabah also knew her mother would not understand what she felt for Rod; she didn't understand it herself. Rod was so far beyond a delightful source of the sexual energy she needed to survive, so much more than a wonderful lover. She had felt the attraction the first night when he had struggled, with a will more fierce than any she had ever encountered, not to defend himself against the desire she forced into his mind, but to be a gentleman, to do the right thing. She had spent days of almost round the clock sex attempting to break that will. His body was hers, but his will had not broken.

And then, suddenly, he yielded. He obeyed at the hint of her desire, not a command even, at knowing what would please her. It was easy to forget that she had power over him because she never had occasion to use it. She supposed that she could still prove her control by making him do something foolish – bark like a dog, perhaps – but why do that? Slowly she realized there was only one explanation for his uncoerced devotion: he had fallen in love with her. And with that revelation came another and more shocking one: she might be falling in love with him.

Without her instructing him to do so, Rod gradually assumed management of her properties. The income from her assets – gifts and bequests from countless former lovers -- even poorly invested -- far surpassed her needs. Rod put them into a foundation that protected them from taxes and made them yield a market return, enabling Sabah to increase her giving to local causes. How could her mother understand a man like that?

Sabah didn't know if her mother had ever been in love. Her cynicism about men suggested she had been -- unhappily. Perhaps it had even been with her father. Sabah had never quite gotten a clear story about who he was: a general of the Golden Horde? A Saracen pirate? A wazir in Harun al-Rashid's court? A Mogul prince? He must have been swarthy; Sabah did not get her dark complexion and black eyes from her porcelain-skin mother. Mother had named her "Sabah," meaning "morning" in Arabic, suggesting a Middle Eastern conception. Sabah had given up trying to find out centuries ago.

As long as Sabah could remember, her mother had satisfied her needs by taking, draining, and discarding an endless succession of men. She never exactly mistreated them, but the tumultuous, submissive sex left some of them psychologically bruised, craving sexual domination few women are able to supply. Sabah was more than a little apprehensive about taking Rod to meet Mother. But there was little doubt that her mother's suggestion was a veiled command. And Mother was still Mother!

"I'm home sweetheart!" sang out Rod's lovely baritone. Sabah's heart skipped. For the moment her concerns evaporated. She heard the thud of heavy bundles. Rod came in smelling – to her heightened senses – of leather and burlap, animal feed, and his own sweaty masculine essence. His face broke into a broad contented smile when he saw her. She grinned as she saw his nostrils flare slightly when he noticed the way her flimsy garment half concealed, half displayed her ample hips and large round breasts. The strong, intelligent, handsome man before her was totally in love AND in lust with her. The latter she could create at will; the former was a blessing beyond her power to command.

She almost ran to his arms. No power of hers made him enfold her close against his hard young body and kiss her as he did. She felt his erection through the rough work clothes. She pressed herself against it and her breasts to his chest, letting her perfume fill his head, feeling his heartbeat accelerate. He would be hungry after a long morning's work. A hearty stew was simmering. It was a bit of an imposition not to give him lunch immediately, but she didn't think he'd really mind a delay. She felt both heat and wetness in her pussy. "I need you, my darling. Take me to bed," she whispered.

Only minutes later her joyous cries startled their nearest neighbors, a family of chipmunks in the woodpile.

*****

Sabah tried to discourage Rod's enthusiasm at the prospect of meeting Mother, telling him Mother was "different." That didn't help. She didn't know how he would react to Mother and thought it best if he were subdued at their meeting. She made sure he was exhausted as well as sated the morning of their trip from near all night sex. The air was chilly but the sky was dark spring blue as Sabah bundled her sex-dazed man into her car for the drive into Washington. Traffic on I-66 was light enough to appreciate the redbud and dogwood, but the sights could not take the edge of nervousness from Saba as she approached the city. She knew what would. Gratefully she pulled up her skirt and allowed her aroused sex to draw his eyes and then his mouth to her temple, only occasionally bringing her to orgasm.

The lobby of Mother's building was impressive. A doorman tried to insist she announce herself, but Sabah just smiled and sent waves of lust splashing through his mind, erasing all other thoughts. Mother's apartment was the penthouse. Sabah didn't bother to ring; she sensed the code that sent the elevator to the top floor, the door opening directly into Mother's apartment.

"Deep Sleep" she ordered almost by reflex and all Rod's senses shut down. Sabah hoped he absorbed nothing of the scene unfolding before her shocked eyes.

Mother, who was still unaware of Sabah and Rod's arrival, was, giggling, being chased around and over the sofas and poofs of the enormous living room. She was dressed for the chase and even more for the eventual capture: a short wrapper that barely covered her large ass and mons, a translucent blouse, now fully unbuttoned, with no bra, high-top black stockings and matching six-inch heels.

Behind her, roaring with frustration were two burly red heads wearing kilts and nothing beneath them. "We'll hae ye yet, ye saucy lassie!" shouted one.

Grab 'er poonts! They're big enough!" grunted the other making a lunge for the elusive woman.

"Oh, you EVIL men," drawled Mother in a voice not at all her own. "Would you take adVANtage of a respectable LAdy?"

"Nay, but we'll take more than 'advantage' of a well used tart like ye!" growled the taller man.

Mother squealed in insincere fright as she maneuvered to be caught between the two of them. "No, no! You mustn't touch breasts like THAT, so familiar," she panted as the stocky one began pawing at her boobs. Sabah didn't realize Mother liked playing rough like this but she must, as there was no way a man could touch her in any way she did not desire. "You ANimal! Stop! Don't you dare put your filthy hand in my ..." Sabah winced but supposed Mother's gasps of pleasure as the second man rammed one then two, three and four fingers into her cunt, were real if perhaps exaggerated to egg them on.

"The bitch is randy as hell; her pussy's flowing down there like the Tay."

"Ay, she is. Her nips are s'hard ye could rip out an eyeball! Let's fuck 'er like the horny slut she is."

"Oh, no!" Mother gasped theatrically. "You're too big, and thick and long, and hard for my poor little ... Mmphg!"

"Just needed something to stop her lying mouth," said the first. "Ay but she's a natural; cocksucker."

"Ten inches of good Highland haggis'll teach the bitch to tease!" grunted the other as he rammed his prick without difficulty into Mother who was bending over accommodatingly. "Holy shit, the bitch's pussy grabbed me like a ... Oh, OH OHHHHHH." His roar of ecstasy joined the moans of his partner. Eyes glazed, he began thrusting frenetically into Mother who grunted encouragement as she returned thrust for thrust. A manicured hand gripped the ass of the man in her lipstick-lined mouth, subtly setting an accelerating rhythm, as the other man fucked her mindlessly. Sabah watched as the age-old story drew to its inevitable climax. Suddenly the men were shaking as both began spewing uncontrollably into the orgasming woman, their loins and brains on fire with an entirely supernatural lust! Both men went rigid except for a twitching in their hips that gradually slowed and stopped when they dropped to the floor unconscious.

Mother licked the last traces of semen from her lips and had dropped back onto a sofa, sighing contentedly, when she noticed Sabah scowling at her from the doorway with the immobilized Rod at her side. "Oh, hello, dear," she said a little breathlessly.

"Mother how could you ...?" Sabah gasped.

Mother smiled weakly. "Did I say Tuesday morning? Silly me. Sorry, darling I just lost track of the day. I ran into Duncan and Malcolm here last night at this marvelous new Scottish Pub over on Capitol Hill. Well, I hadn't Fed since the Pistons – what an appropriate name! -- were in town for their last series and with Jesse and the team away, I hadn't even had sex in two days! These out-of-town gentlemen were looking for some action -- and I provided it. You'll have to admit they did look scrumptious!" Mother grinned with satisfaction. 




Sabah's Mother



Sabah glared.

"What's the problem, dear? I see you spared your young man the sight of your mother having a little fun," Mother added testily.

"'Having fun?' Mother, you were Feeding!"

"For Goddess's sake, Sabah, the man you're so protective of is your prey. He's more than SEEN a Feeding."

"Nothing like that, Mother. I Feed only when Rod and I make love, something you know nothing about!"

"I know more about 'love' than you do, child, enough to know it's a bloody illusion."

Sabah was about to snap back but something in Mother's voice told her that perhaps those were words of wounded love. Suddenly Sabah felt overwhelming sorrow and compassion for her mother. She ran to her mother and flung her arms around her neck. "Oh, Mamma, Mamma. I love you. Please, let's don't fight," she sobbed.

"Sabah, my darling. You're right. I'm sorry. I just don't want you to let him hurt you," Mother said tenderly, holding Sabah in her arms.

"He can't hurt me Mamma; he can't. He loves me."

"Sabah, Sabah. Goddess grant you are right!"

"You'll see, Mamma. You haven't met him."

"And I never will unless you let me show these gentlemen on their way and help me straighten up this apartment. We don't want Rod to get the 'wrong ideas,'" do we?" she grinned.

"You're hopeless, Mother," Sabah laughed. She looked at the two unconscious figures on the floor. "Will they be alright?"

"I only took a half Meal from each. They'll be molesting the stewardesses on the flight back to Aberdeen."

*****

An hour after Saba and Rod's faux entrance, the two kilt-wearing men were gone and the furniture was back in place. The windows were opened to the spring breeze, which had carried away the smell of sex. When the elevator doors opened this time, the scene was different.

"Sabah, darling, welcome. And this must be Rod"

Mother had changed into something "more decent:" a floor length emerald green gown that clung to her shapely curves like a python devouring a gazelle. Matching heels added another 6 inches to her impressive height. Sabah eyed her mother warily, not wanting her to make TOO good an impression on Rod. The women hugged and kissed and Mother accepted a peck on the cheek from Rod.

For the first hour or so Rod was mainly out of the conversation between mother and daughter that leaped illogically -- to the mere masculine mind -- among diverse subjects and people spanning centuries. Still, he enjoyed the admiring glances that Sabah's mother cast his way from time to time. Sabah noted them as well and enjoyed them not at all.

Suddenly Mother turned on Rod with a little smirk. "So, Rod, what is it like being my daughter's sex toy?"

The question shocked Sabah. She looked at Rod with concern. She was even more shocked at Rod's reply.

"It's altogether wonderful, Mrs. Nour. Running the estate and Sabah's investment is a fascinating position. And of course there are 'fringe benefits.'" He winked.

Sabah almost laughed to see her mother blush. She clearly had not expected the self-confident reply.

"P p p position?" Mother sputtered as she imagined Rod on his knees with his face between her daughter's legs.

"Of course, Mrs. Nour. Do you think I spend all day every day in bed pleasuring your wonderfully insatiable daughter? I've quite a bit of experience in private banking, wealth management, that sort of thing, you know. It's not often a man my age gets the opportunity to take on such a challenging portfolio."

Mother looked at Rod like a creature from Mars. "Like many high-net-asset individuals," a little disappointed sigh escaped him, "Sabah was not making optimum use of her asset diversity, investing without any real long-term strategy. I fixed that. If you'd like to see, I've brought a few summary tables."

Before either flabbergasted woman could stop him, Rod had pulled a laptop from the valise he had with him and was off on a Power Point Presentation of a case study of how he had turned around Sabah's investment portfolio. Numbers and animated bar graphs flew on and off the screen. He must have been working on this for weeks to impress her mother, Sabah thought, not knowing whether to laugh or cry with joy. Mother was totally stupefied by his rapid fire delivery filled with talk about "options" and "stretches" "cross-currency risk management" "interest rate futures" and the like.

Somehow – mother and daughter did have a number of joint interests – Rod had learned a lot about Mother's investments and assured her he could do even better with them than he had with Sabah's. Sabah's jaw dropped when Rod produced a prospectuses, waivers, and powers of attorney to allow him to manage Mother's assets. She almost fell out of her chair when Mother meekly signed.

A server called them to lunch about then. Rod offered Mother his arm, escorted her to the table and held her chair. Sabah could see Mother was melting like butter in the Delhi sun. Rod was on a charm offensive and by Goddess, it was working! Mother was hanging on his words, giggling at his witticisms, and drinking more than she ought, Sabah thought.

"And he fucks, too?" Mother hissed while Rod had excused himself after lunch.

"Like a dream, Mother and he's a genius with him tongue," Sabah replied under her breath, savoring her mother's obvious infatuation with her man.

After lunch the visit continued, but Rod was much more in the center of it. If anything, it was Sabah who felt a bit left out as Mother and Rod bantered. Sabah was amazed at how much Rod knew of art history, Mother's passion, having "known" many of the great painters of the Renaissance and Early Classical periods. Several times Mother came close to giving away her "inside" knowledge. No one else alive today knew first "hand" the size of Tintoretto's cock or could be certain that Leonardo was bi not gay.

Light was fading and Sabah was eager to return home. She didn't like to drive the last few miles in the Blue Ridge foothills after dark. And she had a zillion things to talk to Rod about after today. I was clear Rod had won Mother over. Mother didn't just approve of Rod, she doted on him. Sabah had several nasty ideas about how to celebrate his accomplishment. Sabah had just returned from a toilet break when Mother delivered her bombshell.

"I suppose you need to be getting on the road, Honey. This has been such a wonderful visit. You must come again."

"Oh, we will, Mother. We will!"

"Well, that's what I need to talk to you about. Privately." She looked at Rod. "Deep Sleep" Mother ordered.

Sabah was surprised to see Rod shut down just as with her. "You didn't make his trigger giver-specific," Mother explained. 

"What is the meaning of this, Mother?" Sabah asked apprehensively.

"Darling, I was totally wrong about this man. He IS wonderful and I understand your attraction to him." Sabah relaxed. "And he is sooo clever. He says that it may take a while to get my finances in order. And there is an old tax liability that needs urgent attention, a bit tricky." Sabah un-relaxed. "I really need him to stay here for a few weeks to get some things straightened out."

"You want to fuck him, don't you?"

"Darling, that's not what I meant. It just that ..."

"You want to fuck my man, don't you, Mother?"

"Yes" she admitted. "He has everything. Looks, intelligence and I can tell he really likes making a woman happy. You'll have my blessing ...."

"So, you'll give us your blessing if I lend you Rod to fuck?" Sabah spoke evenly, coldly, making it sound as mercenary as possible.

"Don't say it like that, Sabah. He's perfect. I want him. I haven't met a man like him since ... your father!" Mother began to cry.

"You won't Feed?"

"Oh, Sabah, Sabah! Thank you, Thank you!"

*****

It wasn't the sex Sabah missed so much. She stayed busy. She exercised a lot. She ran down three sets of heavy duty batteries for her vibrator. The orgasms were hard and momentarily satisfying. Her pussy was too dumb to know that hard plastic is not the same as a hard prick, Rod's prick. But SHE knew. She missed feeling strong arms around her after she'd climaxed, soft lips on her breasts, fingers other than her own making squishy noises in her cunt, falling asleep with her head on his chest, waking up beside a man who adored her. A week turned to two and three weeks seemed like an eternity.

Sabah didn't want to believe her mother would keep Rod, yet the niggling fear was there. Her mother was ruled by passions and her powers still exceeded Sabah's. Mother could make Rod forget her. Would she? Could she live without him? This was the day she would find out.

It was almost dark when Sabah heard the sounds of an unfamiliar car, still miles distant, approaching. Her heart sang when she perceived Rod was in it. Long minutes later she watched as a Washington DC taxi pulled into the driveway. She saw Rod get out unsteadily. She knew the driver would have no memory of this strange fare, though she was sure Mother had paid him generously for the service. Rod almost stumbled into the large house with little consciousness of where he was. Imagining what Mother had put him through for these weeks, Sabah held back her urge to throw herself on him, and led him to bed – alone. As she undressed him, putting him to sleep with a quick hand job, she found the letter.

Dearest Sabah,

A few months ago I wrote you a terrible letter. I called you a foolish adolescent. I said I could not understand or approve of your relation with Rod. I sneered at the word "love." I was wrong on every count. It was I who was foolish and you who are wise. I thought I understood your attraction to Rod when you visited me. Yes, I envied you for his intelligence and good looks and stamina and skill and willingness in pleasuring a woman. I looked forward to enjoying him while he "worked on my finances." Again I was wrong. He was completely happy to be doing a favor for your mother and his charm did not diminish, but that was it. He was unseducible. I flashed him and I drugged him. When he was unconscious I could get his penis hard enough to perform sex upon him. I could not get him to fuck me. I cried in frustration and envy of you.

At last I hit on a solution and was able to have sex – Goddess what sex – with him, but the stratagem took away all the joy. Since he would not fuck ME, I made him believe I was YOU, visiting for a night. Thus his fierce will, his loyalty to you, was subverted. In that state he would fuck me and eat me and cuddle me, but my heart ached as he kissed me tenderly and told me how much he loved YOU. I didn't know or had forgotten that a man could love a woman as Rod does you. He is yours, darling, in spirit, heart, mind, and only therefore, in body.

You have my blessing in whatever you and he may decide, though what need you have of my blessing I do not know. You and Rod are blessed by your love. And I was blessed by having seen and felt it as through a very clear but impenetrable glass. Perhaps now I, too, can again believe in love. Jesse has been TELLING me he loves me, but I paid no attention. I do not know if it's true, but now I know it is possible.

Your very chastened,

Mother,

Sabah re-read the letter, crying almost as much the second time as the first. She knew how hard it was for Mother to admit she was wrong and had been wrong, quite literally, for centuries. She cried for Mother's wasted years, she cried for the renewal of hope, and she cried with joy for herself and gratitude for Rod.

Red eyed, she went to her bed – their bed – where Rod lay sleeping. Not wanting to know what had happened between him and Mother, she probed his mind only enough to feel it slowly relaxing, as if having been coiled into a tight protective ball. Mother had tried, really tried to get Rod make love to her and even with her greater powers, had failed. No only did this say something powerful about Rod, it confirmed that Sabah had not made him love her either. Rod was her slave only in superficial things; in his depths, he was free and in his freedom, he gave himself to her.

She lay down beside the beautiful young man and gathered him to herself. Slowly she felt his body respond to hers. He was asleep or unconscious, but his body knew her and wanted her. Goddess how she wanted him! She was horny and needed the pleasure she could take from him. With effort, she adjusted his hardened cock so that it snuggled against her own warm sex. Tempted, she resisted slipping it in. Instead, she laid her head on his left arm as his right cuddled her and slept. There would be time enough tomorrow morning.

*****

Sabah spent the next few days happily welcoming Rod home. Although he had been enjoyed her "visits" while he was at Mother's, Rod gladly let Sabah welcome him. Sabah didn't know whether to laugh or cry one morning, while eating her, Rod innocently mentioned how different she tasted during her visits but she decided not to ask him which he preferred.

It was Rod who suggested that Sabah needed to Feed. She knew he was right, but had been hesitant. With her feelings toward Rod confirmed and amplified by Mother's letter, it hardly seemed right to Feed. Even rejuvenated by her spend during cunnilingus – Rod was physiologically younger today than when she first "took" him – Feeding was the transfer of part of his Life Force. Could she still do that? He pressed and she demurred.

In the end, Rod got his way, he seduced her! Finding excuses to deny her sex for a few days, he then surprised her with a magnificent dinner, flowers, and wine. Giggling and tipsy when led off to bed that night, Sabah was near crazy for sex. And the teasing had only begun. First he ate her to more orgasms that she could count before mounting her. Still he persisted, fucking her just too gently or too slow to let her have the final climax she craved. She began to plead, imploring him to fuck her harder, begging him for release.

At last he relented, or seemed to, rolling onto his back to allow Sabah to control their coupling. Sabah was insane with lust and would have plunged her pussy down on his prick and been over the edge in seconds. But he was holding her away. His strong hands around her waist held her pussy tantalizing inches from the head of his cock. Sabah shrieked with frustration as Rod smiled up at her.

"Feed" he commanded.

Apparently he had figured her out. Feeding did occur during intense sex. Sabah could control herself to some extent, but it was a bit like holding your breath. Wound up as she was, it was almost certain she would Feed with her next orgasm. She screamed in frustration as he dropped her with a plop, impaling her on himself. The conflict was intense: she didn't want to Feed, but she did want to orgasm. She tried to fuck him just vigorously enough to get the relief she needed without letting him climax at the same time. She might have succeeded. Until ...

"That won't do, Sabah. Take me! Fuck your horny pussy on my cock. You know you want it, you she devil. Make me spew my life, my cum inside you. Fuck me, you demon bitch!"

She was both horrified and excited that he was talking dirty to her. "No Rod, don't say that. I love you!" she pleaded, but her body responded to his words. Without wanting to, she was riding him harder, struggling to contain the orgasm that was boiling up from her loins -- and his.

"Make me come, you witch. Make me spill my seed in your ravenous maw. Come, Sabah! Feed!"

The Force within Sabah could no longer be contained. The blind instinct reached out to the nearest sexually excited male to snatch away its Life Energy. Its power could overwhelm any male, no matter how strong his ethereal defenses. In Rod it found no resistance. Like an immaterial proboscis it entered, drank, and withdrew, paradoxically taking only what it needed, leaving Rod's Energy pool hardly diminished.

The physical counterpart of this invisible transaction was Sabah's wail of defeat as an orgasm unlike the others tore through her body and mind. Rod bucked as her pussy muscles involuntarily grasped him to suck the sperm from his balls. Wasted effort. Rod roared as a geyser of hot come boiled up from his prick filling his sexy lover's pussy, mingling with her own gushing juices. She continued to hump weakly and then collapsed on his chest sobbing, "Rod, Rod! I'm so sorry, Rod" but she did nothing to disturb the softening prick that held his seed in her. He enfolded her tenderly until her sob died away and her breathing became soft and regular. Only then did he sleep, too.

*****

Sabah's care for Rod as he recuperated from a Feeding was always tender and loving, but this time, more so. Sleep was the best tonic and for the next few days she suffused his food and drink with soporific herbs to keep him in a drowsy horny nether world. Frequent, gentle sex kept him docile and lethargic as his body and spirit recovered. When she noticed him become restless, she drew his lips to her breasts. "Not yet, baby," she whispered as he nursed and her hand, slickened with her own juices, brought him to orgasm putting him to sleep in her arms. And she nourished him with unending draughts of her orgasmic spend as he lay drowsily between her legs, worshiping her sex. She thrilled that allowing him to pleasure her with his mouth was therapy for him. It was almost too wonderful to be true.

Less than two weeks later Rod was back to normal, if not better. His strong, trim body radiated masculine vitality and he was back to giving Sabah the hard, vigorous sex she loved. Rod soon caught up with the accumulated administration of Sabah's estate and she resumed her charitable activities. They had all the ingredients of happiness: health, work, love. 

Sabah knew they lacked only one thing. She trembled and decided.

*****

A few weeks later the second letter from Mother arrived.

Sabah darling!

I can't believe everything that has happened since I wrote. Love does exist: It is big, black, and goes by the name Jesse! How I had been enjoying him. He is an amazing fuck: a donkey cock and a marathoner's stamina. He regularly turned me inside out. I loved having a younger man (younger than my apparent age, that is) fucking me silly and babbling how he loved me and wanted me. Only after Rod's visit did I start paying attention.

I had been treating him like a fuck toy, but I came to realize he is much more. Jesse had finished a degree cum laude in Literature from Brown when he was drafted by the Wizards. He's actually read Moore and Bunyan, Fielding and Thackeray, Byron and Shelly, Flaubert and Zola, while I've only fucked them. Along with great sex, he's tutoring me in Twentieth Century masters: Conrad, Hess, James, Malreau, Fitzgerald, Faulkner, and Eco. He is especially partial to magical realism: Carpentier, Cortázar, García Márquez, Vargas Llosa and Rushdie. I'd just assumed all he wanted to do was take me to clubs, flaunt his sexy older girlfriend for a few hours to make the other guys jealous, and take me home to fuck. Giving him his head, we've spent more time in the Kennedy Center and the Corcoran than on U Street. I've learned I cum just as hard with his head under my evening gown as a miniskirt.

I was taking him more seriously, but not totally. One evening he came in with tickets to something cultural I had forgotten about only to find me tarted up to go dancing. He was annoyed and asked what I was doing dressed up like a cheap whore. (A high priced whore, but he had a point.) I just laughed and said why bother, he'd just wind up stripping me and fucking me whatever we did.

"Is that all I'm good for, Portia? To fuck? To eat your pussy? To let you suck my cock like an ice cream cone and drink my cum like lemonade? You want to fuck? OK, let's FUCK!"

I realized I'd hurt him, but it was too late. Like a wounded animal he charged, picked up all 150 pounds of me with one arm and carried me screaming to the bedroom. I couldn't believe he would hurt me, but he was so enraged I was really afraid. Afraid, and tremendously turned on. I landed hard on the bed. "If you want to look like a slut, I'll fuck you like one!" he roared.




Sabah's Mother



I gasped as he ripped off my frilly blouse and popped the buttons on my little skirt. He made short work of my demi-bra and panties. "Keep the stocking and heels, bitch; they'll be right in character," he snarled.

"AAAAAH" I screamed in fear and pure ecstasy as he rammed his cock into me. I was wet, but it felt thicker and harder than I'd ever felt it. In just a few hard strokes I lost it. I started braying for him to fuck me, to fuck his worthless white whore, to split me with his fuck-ax. I was seconds away from the biggest orgasms of my life.

And then he stopped, or rather he slowed to an excruciatingly slow in-out movement. He wouldn't let me come down or get off. I looked pleadingly up at his cold eyes and hard face. "Is this what you want, Portia? A big black cock deep in your horny pussy? A cock you orgasm on again and again, screaming and bucking until you pass out?"

I was insane with the need to cum, as if I was being roasted alive over flames of lust. Then he stopped completely. "Well that is exactly what you cannot have."

"No, no, Jesse, baby. I want you, I need you!"

"Me, Portia, or the ten inches of me that's between your legs?"

"You, Jesse, you!"

"You haven't acted like it, Portia. You've treated me like a sex object. How flattering is it to be your warm, hard, muscle-powered dildo, your trophy stud? Good to show everyone that you're still sexy enough to snag a young black buck to keep you well fucked! I'm more than that, Portia, or I'm nothing. I love you, Portia. I want to be with you, cherish you, hold you, protect you ... marry you. I want you to live with me and be the mother of my babies. If all YOU want is a thick slab of meat, an interracial boy-toy, find yourself another Nigger to fuck!"

"No Jesse! Don't say that horrible word. I love you Jesse, darling, I love you!" Just the presence of his hard black cock in my pussy was still playing a symphony with my nerves and reflexes and emotions. I did want to climax, but I wanted more. I wanted it all. The orgasm I craved was but the voice of something deep within me saying this was the male who deserved to father the baby he wanted to put in me.

I was sobbing. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I don't deserve a man like you, but I want you. I will be the lover, the wife and the mother you want me to be. Keep me pregnant as long as you want. I'm yours if you will take me. Please, Jesse!"


"Yes, Portia, yes, yes, yes." Jesse was crying the same tears of joy as I, but now he was fucking me again. No, he was making love to me. I felt the difference. He was making my whole body sing, not just my pussy. I could feel the orgasm approach. Carried along by emotion but very deliberately too, I let down one of my eggs.

Whether it happened that night or not is academic. I let our lovemaking keep my pussy awash with his semen for days afterward. I don't need a doctor or a kit to tell me. Life, life planted in me by Jesse, is growing. The baby is a little boy, mortal like Jesse, not a daughter, like one of us. But I do know I am in love with this little life, as with his father, and that is another blessing I owe to Rod and to you, my darling, my only daughter.

*****

Sabah was astonished. She cried but she had to laugh, too. Her mother, the mature party girl, pregnant and domesticated. Well time would tell how domesticated she was. It was hard to imagine Mother staying home and keeping house. Jesse might have his work cut out. Now, if he did keep her knocked up ...

Sabah was happy for Mother and certainly understood what could happen when love and sex got mixed up. She looked down at the small card in her hand and was tempted to call Mother with her news, but decided that Rod should know first.

A few nights after she had Fed, she, too, had released an egg. As it was her first, she would bear a daughter.

A new cycle was beginning.

The End