1. The Church of the Chosen--Part 3


    Date: 11/26/2015, Categories: Fiction, Consensual Sex, Domination/submission, Oral Sex, Slavery, Author: senorlongo, Rating: 81.3, Source: sexstories.com

    to a “normal” relationship, virtually everyone stayed in their D/s relationship. Mitchell was a con artist, but he was right about the chosen. It can be the path to true happiness.” CHAPTER 7 It was a busy time getting Laura and Paul off to a good start, but after a few weeks it all proved worthwhile. I got to make love to Denise in their living room and watch as Paul cleaned Denise’s cunt. He even licked my cock clean, although I would have been just as happy if he hadn’t. They were well on the way to solving most, if not all, of their problems. If only that was the sole issue on my mind. I came home one Thursday evening to find Denise seated smugly on the couch. She looked like the cat that ate the canary. Rather than greet me she told me to kneel and announced, “I’m going to take a lover.” I fell to the floor tears forming in my eyes. “I told you when all this started that I might. You’ll be here when it happens and, of course, you’ll clean up once we’re done.” “Please don’t, I beg you! You’ve always respected my limits. This will destroy me. It will destroy us.” “Really, Sean, you’re being overly dramatic. You’ll survive and so will we.” “No, we won’t. We can’t and won’t overcome that. You don’t realize the implications.” I pulled myself together and, after wiping my eyes and blowing my nose, I took a deep breath and sat on the couch near her. I did not kneel to kiss her feet. “I’m not speaking as slave Sean, Denise. I’m speaking as Agent Sean. Not only do I not want you ...
    to take a lover, if you take this one you’ll certainly destroy us.” I pulled out my notebook and read, “You arrived at the Blue Parrot at 11:47. You entered two minutes later.” She interrupted me before I could continue. “WHAT? YOU’RE HAVING ME FOLLOWED?” She raised her hand as if to strike me, something she had never done, even when punishing me. I stopped her with a single calmly spoken word. “No.” Denise is a very bright woman. I knew that she had been accepted to medical school before deciding that she really wanted to teach. She sat quietly for a minute. I could see the wheels turning. “You’re following Vincent.” “I’ve already told you more than I should have, but I want you to hear something. We interrogated our wonderful neighbor about two weeks ago. He asked me to stop the tape, but I started my digital recorder when we turned the other one off. Nothing on here can be used against him, but I’m glad now that I recorded this: “Okay, Vincent, it’s off. What do you want to tell me that’s such a secret?” “I’m just wondering how it feels to be a slave. Maybe I should complain to your wife that you failed to kiss my feet.” “You can complain to anyone you like. I’ll never kiss YOUR feet. That’s a sign of respect—respect you’ll never get from me.” “Yeah, maybe, but you’d better watch out. You might be kissing a lot more than my feet. I was wondering the other day what your boss in Washington would say if he knew his fair-haired boy was a slave.” “Here’s my phone. Why don’t you ...
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