The Gold Digger
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The Gold Digger Ch. 09 free porn video
Carol awakened to find Bob already out of bed. Yesterday had proved the most horrific yet most exciting day in her short-lived romance with Bob. If romance was what one could call what had been happening. She and Bob worked as executives in the same company until she’d been caught trying to skim some of the profit from one of their business activities. Bob had fixed it that the other executives wouldn’t seek criminal action if they got a night of sex with her and a guarantee she would forever remain outside the company.
The agreement meant exile, a gang bang, and a group blow job for Carol. In exchange Bob got effective control over everything she did thereafter. Since the arrangement was initiated she’d been tattooed, spanked, held hostage in a bordello, induced to grant sexual favors to geriatric patients in an old age home, locked in a roach infested closet for weeks, forced to play doggie by wearing a collar and leash, and last to be humiliated by being exhibited in a semi-nude state in a doctor’s waiting room. Throughout these traumatic times Bob and she had shared some of the greatest sex imaginable, including an
anal rape, which was not great at least for her, and her becoming pregnant.
That was the carnal aspect of their adventure. Looking back now, she saw there was a lot more to what had been happening than just sex and her periodic embarrassment. She recognized, now, she’d been attracted to Bob even before her long ordeal had begun, but she considered herself too cool and him too staid for a serious relationship. She also knew Bob had been enamored of her early on, and he probably wanted to make something serious happen even before fortune intervened in his favor. However, since his emergence as the dominant person in her life, even though she knew, deep inside, he loved her, he kept behaving in odd, even contradictory ways. First he’d be all warm and cuddly, but then he’d shift into someone who could be mindlessly cruel, even vicious. He could be loving and caring one minute, and a sadistic monster the next. He was a real Jekyll and Hyde.
Yesterday provided the most vivid example of Bob’s spasmodic behavior. For a week they’d been the loving couple by night and the dog girl-master by day. At night he would be the most tender, caring, loving partner a woman could want, but with the rising sun she was compelled to wear collar and chain, be attached to his black Labrador retriever, and eat at a small table while kneeling on the floor. Then yesterday afternoon Bob pulled his most vicious trick ever. He tried to put her in a doghouse out in the backyard. Designed to look like a miniature house it was the most terrifying experience she almost had. The thing was nothing more than a glorified cage replete with tiny windows, linoleum floor, and front door with an external hasp padlock. Bob’s insistence on her using it nearly broke her. It was the worst thing he could have done. But at the last minute he relented, took her in his arms, carried her inside and made love to her almost all night. He was so sincere and tender, it made her heart skip just thinking about it.
Now here she was. The sun was up, and he was gone. Already things didn’t bode well. He’d blocked off all her clothing with masking tape. The message was clear and stark. All the clothes she possessed were off limits. They weren’t really her clothes anyway. They were things he’d purchased from a boutique in town. Without exception he had selected everything she had to wear. Now they were even forbidden! There was nothing else to do but make a lot of noise in the shower, and hope Bob would hear her and respond. Carol’s fear was, though the goods had been getting increasingly better, the bads had become increasingly more cruel. What bad thing did he have planned for her today? Last nights love was the best. It could only be followed by the worst. Carol was at her rope’s end. One more vicious thing like the doghouse, and she’d give it up. She’d give up on Bob, and go to jail, baby and all.
After a thorough shower, with lots of loud clamoring with the soaps, toothbrushes, and hairbrushes Carol heard Bob’s call. He wanted her to step into the living room. He said he had something for her. What would it be? More chains? More collars, leashes, and manacles? Another spanking? What would be next? What could be worse?
Still drying off Carol stepped into the living room. It was adjacent to the big downstairs bedroom so it was a simple two-step trip to get where he wanted her. When she reached the living room she saw Bob had retreated to the back area where the kitchen was. He turned in her direction and said. ‘Carol. If you don’t mind, I already set something out for you to wear today. You don’t have to rush, but try not to tarry there’s someplace we have to go.’
Carol tried to smile. Having to go someplace could mean almost anything. She desperately hoped he hadn’t planned on anything too hateful. She answered. ‘I’ll do the best I can.’
By the front door hanging from a hat rack she hadn’t noticed before was a coat hanger and affixed to it was a maroon plastic bag. It was the typical kind of hanger bag one would carry on a trip. Carol breathed deeply. Well here goes nothing. She opened the bag. Inside she found something totally unexpected. It simply took her breath away. There concealed in the plastic was a beautiful dark blue dress. She felt it. It was made of the softest silk, and it was polka dotted. Not big garish dots, but small indistinct little dots. Mini-dots! It was short sleeved, and looked as though it would come slightly below mid-thigh. There were several discreet dark buttons up the front that trailed off to a delicate vee-necked collar trimmed modestly in tiny dark blue ruffles. There was a small dark blue bow at the center. The short sleeves, slightly capped, also had the same tiny ruffles with the same tiniest of bows on the outer edge of each cuff. The hem of the dress was also trimmed in the same discreetly delicate lace work. What a beautiful dress she thought. This was no Walmart special off the rack. This dress had to be tailor made! There was no belt, but it was gently tapered at the waist. Carol held it up in front and looked in the full-length mirror that stood beside the front door. This was a dress designer’s dream! She thought, if Bob selected this he had to have done it days before. Of course, she reflected, Bob had to have picked it out. No she thought. He didn’t pick it out. The woman at the boutique had all her measurements. This dress was a one of a kind! It was made just for her! Carol bit her lip. She took the index finger of her right hand and put it to her lips. Something was amiss. The dress was creating some mental confusion for Carol. This was such a beautiful piece. Why did he buy something like this? She felt the material again. She looked closely at the stitching. It wasn’t just a dress. It was a work of art!
Looking further inside the bag she found a pair of dark blue panties,a dark blue bra, a pair of dark blue nylons, and an equally dark pair of high-heeled shoes. She couldn’t wait to put everything on. She picked up all the apparel and rushed back to the bedroom. She dressed as fast as she could. The outfit was just too beautiful! The dress curled in at the waist, and flared out gently from her hips to mid thigh. The front, once buttoned up, gave only a hint of cleavage. The bra was a perfect fit, and held her breasts comfortably, pushing them up and out only slightly. She leaned backward. Hands on hips she leaned forward. The softly clinging material of the dress, the pouting shape of the bra worked to accentuate the tear shaped geometry of her smallish breasts, giving them a kind of carefree insouciance that bordered on the impertinent, even being perhaps a little naughty. She tried moving around a little. If she turned or twisted the cloth of the dress gave just a hint of sensual invitation around her increasingly well-rounded hips. It was a soft sexuality not noticeable until recently, one of the splendid lit
tle perks of pregnancy. The dress was a marvelous piece of apparel! She donned the shoes and stood up again. She twisted and turned again and again. This was a beautiful outfit. The shoes were magnificent! The heels were high enough to tighten her leg muscles, highlighting their natural firmness and graceful shape. The shoes bore a single strap across the front, and had a low cut line that revealed, just barely, the upper bridge-line of her toes before spiraling to a sharp and shapely point. The dress, the shoes, the nylons, the panties, they all made her feel self consciously pretty. It wasn’t an embarrassed self-consciousness, but a self-consciousness born of the surety that whoever might see her would have to take a second glance. She’d always known she was pretty, but this morning, in this stunning outfit, she felt it in every inch of her being. The dress and its ancillaries made her feel vibrant, feminine, beautiful, and vivaciously alive!
Carol hurried to the dressing table, applied a tiny amount of make up. She puckered her lips. Just a smidgen of lip-gloss! She brushed out her hair. It was soft, thick, and wavy. At the very bottom of the hanger bag she found what had to be a hair ribbon. She tied off her hair with it, but just to make sure, she added two small barrettes, one on each side of her head, near the temples. The ribbon tied in a neat bow in the back, and the barrettes revealed her small heart shaped ears. She took a small pair of earrings. They were tiny hoops, and affixed one in each of her single piercings. When she was a child her mother told her never have more than one piercing, and that only in the ear lobe. Ladies were allowed one, and only one piercing. Now she thanked her mother. The single tiny gold hoop added to her feminine fragility, a fragility she increasingly felt with each added day of her pregnancy. Fully dressed, feeling like a newly minted coin, almost virginal in demeanor she rushed back out the main room.
Bob had left the kitchen and was fixing his tie. He was dressed in a matching dark blue suit. He stood there waiting for her. Looking up he saw her. His jaw went crashing to the floor. Not in his wildest fantasies! Not in his most vivid day dreams had he imagined her like this! In his mind’s eye he knew she’d be beautiful when he’d ordered the dress, but now, in the flesh, she was ten times, a hundred times, no a million times more stunning than he ever imagined. The dress looked terrific! She looked terrific! Exquisite! Adorable! No words could describe what he saw. He was looking at a work of art. No Venus de Milo here! She was the full package. Carol was the real deal! He had to say something! He was speechless! All he could get out was a stupid lame comment. ‘Are you ready? There’s some place I’d like to go.’ Shit! He wanted to kick himself in the ass! Here he was in the presence of perfection, and that was all he could get out. What a fool he was.
Carol was flustered. She knew she looked good. She was hoping for a little more than, are you ready? She responded. ‘I’m ready. Where are we going?’
Bob didn’t hear her at first. He couldn’t stop staring. He walked over. He asked. ‘Would
you kiss me?’
Carol didn’t know quite how to react to that question. She said. ‘Of course.’
Bob said. ‘I’m afraid to touch you. You’re so beautiful. You’re so God damned beautiful!’ He reached out and carefully wrapped her in his arms. He didn’t want to do anything to muss her appearance. He had perfection in his grasp, Anything he did could only damage it. He and she shared a quiet moment and a long tender kiss.
Carol asked again. ‘Where did you say we were going?’
Bob answered. ‘I didn’t say.’ He stammered a little. ‘And don’t ask a lot of questions.’ He just kept looking at her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Carol didn’t say anything else as Bob helped her outside and down the steps to the car. As he walked her down the steps to the car he kept finding ways to touch her. He felt like a fool. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her beautiful face or his hands off her precious body. God! He thought. Look at the way she
swishes when she walks. Her hips sway with such grace, and her breasts, her breasts undulate like waves on a rippling sea.
Once in the car they drove off. Down the private dirt path to the side road, and then out to the main road they traveled. Both sat silently. Bob seemed to be intent on something so Carol decided not to pry. She wondered what he was up to. Looking for some way to break the monotony of a long silent drive she did say. ‘It’s a lovely morning.’
Bob glanced over and gave her a little smile. He watched as she breathed, her breasts rising and falling with each inspiration. ‘It is a beautiful morning isn’t it. And you make it that way.’
Carol asked. ‘Do you want to tell me where we’re going?’
Bob was noncommittal. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’ He smiled and chuckled. ‘I might take you back home. I don’t want anyone else to look At you. I think I want to keep you all to myself.’
Carol grimaced. ‘Don’t be foolish.’
They traveled on for perhaps another twenty minutes when Bob turned the car to another side road.
Carol noticed a sign. It read New Brunswick United Methodist Church. It startled her. Were they going to church? This would be something of a new experience for Carol. She was raised in one of the Protestant Churches, but hadn’t bothered going since she was in her middle teens. At the time church seemed sort of juvenile. It had been what her parents wanted her to do. But once she was off the college, and later the world of work church just didn’t fit in. She wondered. Is that really was where he was taking her?
It turned out that church was exactly where Bob and she were going. He drove them to a smallish Methodist Church set back in a classic rustic setting. When they pulled into the parking lot there were already several families out of
their cars and heading up the steps. The church was an older granite building with a vaulted arched front door, a corbel arch. Down the exterior side-walls were spaced intricate stained glass windows. A stately bell tower decorated the front. As they stepped from the car someone inside started to ring the bell. It had a deep melodious tone. Carol had forgotten the
sweetness of that sound. There was a fair sized cemetery off to the right. It was home to a variety of types of stones, some large, some small, some garish, some understated, and some incredible old. They each probably bespoke something of their owners. She would have liked to get a glimpse of some of the names on the stones. Would any of the names be from Bob’s family?
They got out of the car, and walked up the sidewalk. Bob held her hand. Well, not exactly her hand. He held her hand, but he seemed to be pulling her so she was pressed against him. She recognized it as a kind of proprietary clutch
and hold at the same time. Like he was afraid she would run. No way was she running today. As they approached the front doors no one seemed to pay any attention to them, and she thought this was a little odd. Remembering from her own younger church going days new people usually got the once over. That typically meant the casual side-glances, a few nonchalant smiles, an occasional hello, and at least one or two fulsome greetings from among the more energetic members.
Bob walked her inside and down a side aisle. The church wasn’t very big once they got inside. It was wider than it was long, perhaps fifteen pews, about twenty feet wide on either side of the main aisle. There was seating set aside on the front left for a choir, and an organ, it looked like a nice one, maybe a Mueller. Though the place was fairly crowded, the pew Bob selected was empty, and that was odd. To Carol’s recollection people liked to put a
little distance between themselves in church, and after a fashion families tended to stake out parts of the sanctuary as their own. Bob had put the
m smack dab in the middle of an unoccupied and apparently unclaimed pew.
From her seat Carol was able to give the place a more thorough examination. Off to the right of the choir loft was the pulpit, and three chairs, ostensibly for a pastor and perhaps a reader or two. The cloth coverings were green, and Carol, reflecting on her childhood training, recalled that was the appropriate color for the season.
In fact the whole setting brought back memories of her childhood. She remembered her years as a child and an early teen. She remembered her confirmation, and how proud her parents were. She reflected on the pastor at her old church, some of the older people, and the other kids her own age. She remembered the nice older boy who died of leukemia and how Mrs. Newland, their Sunday School teacher tried to help them make sense of it. She recalled, excepting for the long, usually boring, sermons, church was a pretty fun place. She remembered the girl gossip, and the boys with their stupid lack of manners. She remembered the tricks the boys tried to play on them at summer retreat. There had been parties and outings when she was in the youth group. It had been a happy time. She thought about all that now as Bob proffered her a seat about halfway down the right side aisle. She tried to remember why she stopped going. It wasn’t because she’d stopped liking church. It was more because it was something her parents did, and she wanted to be grown up. She had wanted to become more independent. That was why she stopped going. Now here she was again. In a church with a man whose behavior was a cross somewhere between a caring reassuring suitor, and an overbearing beast. The very thought of what was happening this morning was somehow unnerving, then reassuring, and but terrifying all at the same time. Here she was reliving a time from her past she’d thought she’d put away. She was with the man she thought she was in love with. She was carrying his child, but she still wasn’t at all certain whether she and he had a future together.
Carol looked over and up at Bob. He looked as nervous as she felt. She wondered what he was thinking. What his plans were. What were his plans for her? Did his plans even include her?
The church services began. Nothing seemed to have changed. She sat rigidly through the time of fellowship, glad no one came over to introduce him or herself or ask any questions about who she and Bob were. She dutifully processed through the call to worship. She sat patiently while the minister, an older man, read the scripture lesson, did the children time, and blunted her senses with a long tiring sermon. Of course, just as she remembered, each event was interrupted by either a hymn or an anthem sung by the choir. And the choir, just like when she was a child, had its good and not so good voices. And just like she remembered, no one seemed to care how well or poorly they sang. Every song got its polite applause.
While she sat, transfixed by events she’d long since put behind her, Bob, again the gentleman, kept his arm protectively on the back of the pew. When they sang he found the hymn, and held the hymnal for her. She remembered some, but not all the songs. Bob seemed to know them all.
Finally, as if by the usual customary spiritually ordained signal, after precisely one hour, the service was over. She and Bob lined up like everyone else and slowly processed down the aisles to be greeted by a deacon, and given a friendly shake of the hand by the pastor, who very politely thanked her for coming and asked if she wouldn’t consider coming back again next week. Then another odd thing occurred. The pastor never spoke to Bob. Didn’t even look at him, and never mentioned his possible return.
All in all, the church thing went just about the way Carol remembered it. Bob walked her back to the car where he made a few inquiries. First he asked. ‘Did you like the church?’
Yvette
- 24.03.2020
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