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"I saw a look of near panic cross Constance's face and wondered what was wrong. She didn't keep me waiting, but dialed a number and had a hushed, but intense conversation with someone who she seemed to take orders from.Once she was off the phone, she gave me a frightened smile and said, "Kevin. We should have previewed this apartment and dealt with things before you were released from Washington General. That being said, I just spoke to one of the President's inner core of advisors and asked him for a recommendation. We should hear back with a plan for you within a few minutes."Constance had an air of troubled, competence about her today. "What's wrong?" I queried, taking hold of her right hand. "You seem burdened, frightened, or troubled, and it can't be about me, so, spit it out. What's wrong?"She gave me her version of the look and said, "The entire White House is in a fury. The way the news covered the Rose Garden ceremony seems to have set off an internal war, between the. ."With that she lay back on the bed, kissed the head of my cock and slowly started to suck me off. She had just got into her beat when her mum burst through the door."I heard that scream, Jim, are you okay, ohh... err... sorry." She backed nervously out the door.I could have died, but Carly was in the zone and didn't bat an eyelid (well, they were closed anyway). It wasn't long before I came into my lover's throat. She moved up to kiss me and I tasted myself on her tongue, another new and enjoyable experience."Thanks. You didn't need to..." I know. That's why I did it. Anyway, I think we better get up, my mother is probably having kittens downstairs."I got out of bed and looked at myself in the mirror. My legs were cut up from the ground yesterday, and there was a bruise on my shin. I had three massive palm-sized bruises on my ribcage; they were not as angry as last night, but still purple, grey and nasty. I had a cut cheek and a black eye. The only thing that differentiated myself.
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I can hear her command throbbing insistently within my blank mind; the single word this pretty little pavlovian bitch has come to cherish, has learnt to obey, has placed above everything else. My poor, helpless, manipulated body spasming in uncontrollable obedience to her constant demands that her little pet be an absolute pleasure unto her. How I ache. How I ache to be such perfection, as the pulsations in my palpitating pussy explode forth across my shivering frame, as my knees rub themselves across the floor, as the nectar I offer to her in my absolute submission soaks my heels and trickles down to the soles of my feet. “YOURS, my Mistress. YOURS, my Goddess divine. YOURS, to use, to abuse, to have and to hold from this day forth, for all eternity, until Hell freezes over, until I am nothing but trembling, delirious flesh drooling across your manicured and gorgeously varnished toes. YOURS.” The body heated links on the chain between my secured wrists rub at the soft curvature.

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