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The Harem on the Hill (Part VII)
🕑 Added 2020-01-05 02:26:44 +0000 UTC
"Less talking, more eating."
"Fine, don't tell me," Tina says as she finishes a bite of ice cream. "But this would be a lot more fun if..." Tina gets a faraway look, then sets the container down on the swing. "Y'know what? I'm not hungry anymore." Then she stands and walks briskly back to her chamber.
"Please pick that up."
"I'm sure you have people for that," Tina says without breaking stride.
Tina was right. You do have people for that. But they don't come until Tuesday.
You press the 'talk' button again, but no words come out. What should you do? Apologize? Threaten? Tina's left you speechless staring at a half-empty ice cream carton.
An alert shows Tina's chamber door is now securely closed. And with a slam, no doubt. You swivel in your chair and chuckle. Your first fight.
Sighing, you hoist yourself up and begin the long trek downstairs. You're not exactly anal-retentive, but prefer things neat and orderly. It took effort leaving Tina's room the previous night without gathering up all the Twinkie wrappers. You certainly can't have ice cream melting all over your imported Koa wood bench swing.
However, any bother you feel vanishes the minute you enter your paradisiacal garth. It's a feast for the senses. The sun warms your skin. A respiting bird serenades you. And as you reach the gazebo, Tina's lingering scent mingles with the flora to form a mellifluously aromatic cocktail.
You pluck the pint from the swing, wipe away a ring of condensation that had formed beneath it, and sit down. Outside of barking instructions to your gardener, you haven't visited the courtyard in months and plan to take advantage of the opportunity.
You plunge the spoon into Tina's half-eaten ice cream and take a bite. Your lips linger on the cold silver as Tina's had moments before. You smile. Both at the thought and the irony of having to clean up after your 'slave.'
SKREEEP! SKREEEP!
Your pit stop in Eden is interrupted by shrill blasts from your phone. You fish it from your pocket as the spoon dangles from your mouth. Tina's vitals are spiking yet again.
Now what?
You swipe to an app that brings up a video camera embedded in Tina's bracelet. Rather than the inside of her apartment, however, you see something you don't expect--
The back of your head.
The spoon clatters to the ground as Tina throws the tie of her robe over your head and yanks you back by the neck. Then she quickly cinches it into a noose and, using all of her 120 pounds, pulls downwards. The swing tips back like a dentist's chair, lifting your feet off the ground and positioning you face-to-face.
"Surprise, Motherfucker!"
With your hands clutching the belt and your legs dangling off the inverted bench like a midway ride, you have little leverage and few options. You're impressed.
"Time to establish some ground rules, OK?"
You nod, unable to speak.
"If we do this, we do it as a team, or we don't do it at all. Understand?"
You nod again.
"If you can agree to that...." Tina leans forward and presses her lips against yours, savoring their sticky sweetness. "Then I'll help make all your sick little fantasies come true."
Tina loosens her grip, giving you slack to breath, but not much else.
"Do we have an accord?"
"Yes," you gasp.
"Good."
The belt whips from your neck, releasing the tension and ejecting you from the swing as it lurches back to its natural position. Rubbing your neck, you turn towards Tina. She stands defiant, robe open, twirling her belt like a lasso.
"Like what you see, cowboy?"
You can't help but smile.
Suddenly, Tina crumples to the ground. Her body twitches a moment, then goes still.
You blow across the top of your phone and holster it in your pocket like a six-shooter. Sauntering over, you examine Tina's body. Her robe is splayed and most of her charms revealed. Pert breasts. Neatly trimmed pubic patch. And an arching belly packed-tight with last night's indulgences.
"That I do, Ma'am," you say as you kneel beside her. You find her eyes, but they don't find you. They're still a million miles away from the 25,000 volts that just coursed through her.
"But now we need to discuss MY ground rules."
What do you say?
Comments
Maverick and Riptoryx
To be clear, the third choice is supposed to read: "I'm gonna hafta slow ya down a mite, partner." Once the poll is posted, you can't correct a typo on the choices.
