The Truth - Chapter 8 (Patreon)

At his apartment, he penned a delicious meal, which they ravenously ate. “We went too long without food, I think.” He said. “I barely tasted that.” He got up and put the DVD on his desk in the player.

Sandra tore off a piece of bread and followed him to the sofa. “This bread is amazing. I’m going to have to workout at the gym tomorrow.”

“I could change that.”

The DVD started immediately with a long shot of the bed. Sandra and Debra were lip-locked and going at it.

Jon hit the alternate view button on the remote. The view became an overhead close-up of their faces. “Cool, it has special features.”

He hit the button again. The view became a close-up of their fingers in each other’s pussy.

“Oh, God, that was hot,” Sandra admitted. She lowered the hand far from Jon to her waist and slowly moved it toward her crotch.

He hit the button again. The view became a side shot of their breasts bumping into each other.

“How many camera’s were there?”

Jon looked at her and said, “Just the four.” He clicked it back to the fingering shot. “Here, join in the fun right here.”

She looked at him. “Better yet,” she said unzipping her skirt. “You do it so it’ll feel just like it did on the video.”

He scooted closer to her and reached into her pants. “Okay, just watch the video.” His fingers enter her dry pussy. It slicked up instantly. At first he stayed away from her clit touching it as if by mistake every now and then. Before the sex in the video was about to end he jumped the video back to the beginning. This time through he was more direct in his stimulation.

She leaned in closer to him. She reached up and pulled his head closer to hers. She planted a full, passionate kiss on him, holding his head against hers.

He paused the DVD and dropped the remote. He straddled over her so he could use his free hand to pull her skirt down. She accommodated this by lifting up off the sofa when he pulled. After a few moments, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He sat her on the end of the bed and started removing his clothes, making out the whole time. He stopped fingering her and slipped just the tip of his dick in. He lifted her legs up over his head and as she lay backward entering her fully. Quickly their thrusts and counter thrusts developed a heady rhythm. When she orgasmed the pleasure of her squeezing against his dick was unbearable and he orgasmed as well.

After a few moments, he stepped back and joined her on the bed.

She looked at him curiously.

“What?” he asked.

“No compulsions, no pretexts, no magic, just the two of us fucking,” she replied.

“Fancy that,” he said.

She rolled over to face him. “I’m serious. When it was just exploring the magic pen it didn’t have any meaning. But now…”

“You’re saying now it has meaning?”

She nodded.

“Obviously, I’ve been attracted to you for some time.”

“You mean because you picked me as your first victim.”

He shrugged, taking her hand in his. “Um, yeah. As I was saying, I’m not going to say I’m in love but I don’t think anything we’ve been doing has been without meaning.”

“Good,” she said. “I’d have been frightened as much by an admission of love as I would have been if you’d said it was meaningless.”

He looked confused.

“I don’t want to be just a convenient body for your experiments.”

“So, I shouldn’t just enslave you? I should wait until you ask.”

She smiled. She slid off the bed and as she headed for the bathroom, she turned and winked. “Exactly.”

He put on his bathrobe and went out to the desk. He was obviously thinking as she entered. “Do you want to go to work tomorrow?”

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t want to go to work. We need a break from sex. I’m trying to figure out how to make a lot of money without it being obvious.”

“No mansion on the hills from nowhere?”

“I don’t think that would fit my uncle’s definition of subtle.”

“You could win the lottery.”

“No,” he responded. “There’s all sorts of publicity with that. Eventually someone would decide I was newsworthy and investigate.”

“Same problem with gambling then, or playing the stock market.”

“Yes, although the stock market works for continuing income, I don’t see an easy way to jump start it that wouldn’t be suspicious.”

“Then you just need a bankroll.”

“Essentially.”

“I still like the lottery idea. Just don’t win a lot of money. A couple hundred thousand should suffice.”

“I can’t quit my job on that little money.”

“No, you can quit your job on your pen.”

He looked confused.

“You don’t actually need any of the money,” she explained. “You just need to have an account somewhere so that when someone discovers you living in a mansion they can trace where the money came from. Win the lottery. Quit your job. That’s not wise but no one says you can’t be unwise. Invest half the money in stocks that just happen to perform well and eventually you will have millions. Especially if you never actually spend the money.”

“Won’t that be suspicious by itself? The IRS is ruthless.”

“If you don’t arouse suspicion otherwise, who’s going to look into your business any time soon?”

He smiled, “But then I can’t have a mansion with a harem tomorrow.”

“Maybe a small one,” she replied.

“Mansion or harem?”

“I don’t think acquisition of a sex slave has a monetary value in the tax code.”

“You’re right. Mansions have a definite value.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Just remember when you write it to limit your payout.”

“Actually, if around a hundred grand will work, I might be able to get that much out of Ms. Beed.”

“You shouldn’t aim so high with her. People will wonder what service you provided.”

He snapped his fingers. “I could have her make me a partner and then increase the income of the shop by magic, slowly over time.”

“That might work in addition to the lottery idea. In fact, you could take the winnings and invest it in her shop, on paper.”

“Okay, so let me magic up a lottery ticket.”

“No, go out and buy it. Your face needs to show up in the surveillance cameras.”

“Oo, good point.” He spoke aloud as he wrote: “When I next buy a lottery ticket for a drawing worth twenty to thirty million dollars, the number picked randomly by the lottery machine will match the lottery tickets of eleven other lottery tickets. When the drawing for those tickets happens, the numbers shared by those 12 tickets will be the winning numbers.”

“Very nice. No one will care about one winning ticket among twelve.” She said.

“I do have the occasional good idea.” He said, “Now for some fun.” He wrote: “No one will confront or harm Sandra or myself whenever we go out.” He thought about it a moment and realized he would not want to be accosted ever so he scratched out sentence and wrote “No one will confront, harm or attack Sandra, Debra, myself or anyone accompanying any of us.

“When next we go out, no police officers will notice anything unusual about Sandra. No more than once every few minutes a random person near her will be compelled to feel Sandra’s outfit and perhaps make either a complimentary or rude comment about it. Afterward, the person will go about their business and not bother Sandra again. When I next say ‘Now’, two small padlocks and a key to both of them will appear in my pocket.”

He wrote more instructions for several more minutes. When he finished he said, “It’s around seven now. We can go get a lottery ticket right now. But first, let me read this aloud. I hope you like zentai. It says, ‘When I finish reading this aloud, Sandra will become enveloped from head to toe in a lavender, seamless zentai outfit made of a lycra-spandex like material that cannot be cut with normal shears or knives. The Zentai suit has stiff, patent leather mitten hands, each ending with a D-ring. The lower legs of the Zentai suit are made of lavender, patent leather boots with five-inch stiletto heels. There is a D-ring attached to the back of each leather boot. The area where her eyes are located are made of a nylon mesh she can see through but no one can see into. A thin patent-leather collar surrounding the neck provides a D-ring where a four-foot long, lavender-colored, leather leash hangs from the neck. There is a D-ring at the end of the leash and eight-inches from the hanging end. A longhaired, blonde wig is attached atop the Zentai head. The next time I say, “Now,” Sandra will become incapable of voluntary speech until she gets out of the Zentai suit.’”

The look of shock on her face disappeared behind the purple material. She pawed at her useless hands. “How am I going to get out this suit?”

“Most likely the same way you get in,” he proposed. “Now, let’s go buy a lottery ticket.”

She remained sitting on the sofa, shaking her head.

“Don’t make me use the leash. Let’s go.”

Her posture sagged. She stood up with some difficulty. She paused in front of the wall mirror, taking in what was basically her naked body standing there, but lavender. She shook her head and walked to the door. The D-ring at the end of the leash was bouncing against her thighs as she walked. The D-ring above it occasionally poked her crotch.

“I command you to stay behind me when we are walking, no closer than five steps unless I’m holding the leash.”

He walked out the door, locking it behind him and went downstairs. When he reached the landing he turned to see how well she was handling the stairs in the heels. “You’ve very good with high heels. We’ll try six-inch next time.”

“Next time?” she thought. She was regretting him finding out she wanted to be humiliated. She managed the stairs okay. She was glad the heels weren’t higher. In the lobby he gallantly offered to let her open the door, with its key-like lock first. She held up both hands, giving him the finger twice, not that he could tell.

He smiled and opened the door.

It was cool outside and she had no idea spandex could be drafty. They walked up the block and he passed the nearest convenience store. “Where is he taking me?” she wondered. Every eye she met was looking in her direction, rarely into her eyes. A man stopped not far from her and she went around him.

“Oh,” she exclaimed as a hand squeezed her ass.

“Nice ass, lady,” the man said.

She looked back but couldn't really do anything. The man had already turned and continued on his way. She turned back and Jon had not even stopped. She hurried to catch up to him. She wanted to walk closer to him. While she couldn’t get too close, he could easily get too far away for her comfort.

“Oh, I love the color of this fabric,” said a woman Sandra was passing. The woman rubbed Sandra’s arm a couple times then turned and walked away.

“Oh, God, he did this to me,” Sandra thought. Jon had moved away again and she saw him heading for the subway. “No, he couldn’t just go to the place on our street, could he?”

She almost stumbled on the stairs. She saw him swipe his transit card at a turnstile and walk through. She followed him right up to the same turnstile and it did not turn. She looked around. People were staring at her.

A man waved his card at her turnstile. He said, “You look like you could use some help.”

She put her hands together and bowed to him as she stepped through the turnstile.

“You’re welcome, my dear.” A funny look came over him and he reached out and tweaked her nipple. “Paid in full,” he said and walked away.

Sandra stood there in shock for a moment then saw Jon standing by a column. She could just see from the smirk on his face that he had heard the entire exchange. She approached him but could not get close.

Jon walked up to her and said, “I was going to pay the guy back. But now I don’t have to.”

A train arrived. As Jon turned to get on, she had to wait until he was far enough on the train to follow him. The doors closed immediately as she entered. She thought about sitting but decided trying to stand up might be hard. As the train lurched forward she realized she could not really hold on with her hands. She moved to one of the vertical poles and wrapped an arm around it.

A woman behind her said, “Joachim, get over here.”

Something tapped the back of her leg and she heard a small voice say, “She’s shiny.”

The woman repeated her admonishment.

Sandra decided not to look down or turn around and was relieved when she heard the child walk back to his mother.

Shortly the train stopped and Jon walked off. Sandra moved the other way toward a different door so she wouldn’t have to wait before following him. A man getting on the train reached out and gave her right boob a quick fondle without saying anything.

Sandra tried to ignore the sensation and saw Jon go through the turnstiles to the 9th Avenue exit and realized where they were going. Sure enough, when she reached the top of the stairs out of the subway, she spotted Jon walking on Mercer towards Beed’s Boutique, three blocks away.

The light at 8th Avenue was red and she had to wait awkwardly five paces away from the corner. When she was looking a different way, a man stepped right up and grabbed her upper arms as he rubbed himself up and down her body saying, “I bet you love to dance, Chica.” She became unbalanced and he righted her before letting go and walking away.

The light turned green and she followed Jon up the block. Jon walked only a few feet and she had to stop at the corner. He walked toward her and said, “I’m going to that store over there but I don’t want to be caught on camera with someone dressed like you following me around.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He took hold of the leash and looped it around a lamppost. When he let go, she saw him putting a padlock through the two D-rings on the end of the leash. He grabbed her arms while she was still surprised, pulling them behind her. Before she could react, she heard a click. He crossed to the convenience store across the street without another word.

She watched him walk away with mixed emotions. She could only be more embarrassed if he had used a bicycle lock to chain her to the post. Having her arms bound behind her added to her utter feeling of helplessness. Knowing that feeling vulnerable was the whole point did not make it any better.

She felt someone touching the wig. The woman stepped around and asked, “How did you attach the wig? I can never find an adhesive that doesn’t damage my suit.”

Sandra did not know how to respond and decided to shrug.

“Oh, cat got your tongue, deary?” the woman asked, nodding. “I understand. I wish had the figure and guts to walk around outside like that. I’ll be going. Wouldn’t want to get your master angry.” She fiddled with the wig again before walking away.

Immediately after she left, a man grabbed Sandra’s crotch and gave it quick rub pushing a finger inward as far as the fabric would let him. It felt embarrassingly good to be rubbed down there through the fabric. Sandra was thankful he had not commented on the feel of her pussy. She would have laughed if she could since she had thought the woman had been part of the people touching her programming but apparently she was just an enthusiast.

Two other people groped her before Jon returned. He unlocked the leash but not her arms and led her up the block.

She had to walk carefully because she could not move her arms to keep steady. She was relieved that Jon wasn’t walking too quickly and probably aware of her difficulty. She was glad the store wasn’t far away.

“Here we are,” Jon announced as they reached the display window of Beed’s Boutique. Debra’s immobile form was exactly where they had left it. “Stand over there Sandra so Debra can get a good look at you.”

She moved over to where he had indicated, though he still held the leash.

“Turn around so she can see your arms.”

She could see no benefit to disobeying, so she turned and even made a show of lifting her arms so it was obvious they were locked together. Just then she felt a hard spank against her ass. She turned and a man walking by smiled.

To Jon, the man said, “She all yours?”

“Lock, stock and barrel.”

“Lucky dog,” the man replied as he turned to walk away.

“Hey!” Jon called, “You want to borrow her?

The man looked back, “I don’t think the wife would appreciate it.”

Jon laughed.

“How much?” called another voice. Three guys walked across the street toward Jon.

Sandra was looking at Jon petrified with fear, not that he could tell.

Jon looked at them, “Sorry, fellows. She’s not for sale.”

The man reached into his pants. “I got five g’s that say she is.”