Dominus (Book I: parts 1-3)

PART ONE: CAGED BIRD

CHAPTER ONE

"She gave it all, you gave her shit/She coulda done just anything, or anyone/Cause she's a goddess/You never got this/You put her down/You liked her hopeless/To walk around/Feeling unnoticed/You shoulda crowned her/Cause she's a goddess/You never got this/Now you gotta deal with this glitch on your shoulder/Fuckin' with a goddess and you get a little colder/Yeah it's colder, colder/Fuckin' with a goddess, and you get a little colder" - BANKS 'Goddess'

"Which one should I wear, a necktie or bowtie?" Robert asks, holding a tie in each hand.

"The bowtie, definitely. A necktie with a tuxedo is rather pretentious, don't you think? Why not just wear a suit? Do we really have to go to this thing?" Jennifer replies, with the evidence of her annoyance in her tone.

"This thing?" His retort was sharp, obviously annoyed with the belittling of such a prestigious event.

"I'm the U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia. Don't be ridiculous, of course we're going. Who turns down an invitation to the State Dinner? Now get dressed and quit complaining."

"Well, it's not like we've never been. It's going to be the same thing, with the same people. Why don't we do something spontaneous? We could go to the country house." She pleads with her eyes, something she has to do more and more often.

"You sound desperate." He says to her coldly without even bothering to look in her direction.

The unfortunate truth is that she is desperate - and horny. She's desperate for the passion that once made her body melt. She hungers for it. At this point she's willing to do whatever it takes to satisfy that insatiable hunger ravaging her. She needs to feel ... something, anything, from him.

Jennifer Sparrow-Gallagher, barely even half-dressed, sees this as an opportunity to seduce her husband, Robert. Surely her advances would be welcomed. She's flirty and sensuous - thanks to the few glasses of wine she had. She walks behind him as he struggles to tie his bow tie.

For a woman in her early forties, her body is amazing. Her long, lean legs make her look like a gazelle. Her stride is slow and graceful. She doesn't have on any panties. She doesn't believe in panties with evening gowns. Her perfectly manicured vagina is slowly beginning to awaken.

She reaches him in only a few steps. Her pillow-soft breasts press against his back. She slowly slides her hand up his thigh, until she reaches his soft cock. She begins to slowly stroke it to life. She's tall, so she barely has to stand on her tip-toes to nibble on his earlobe. She strokes the full length of his erect cock and whispers, "Are you sure we have to go? Why don't we stay and you can fuck me instead?"

Her vagina is pulsating, yearning to be penetrated. All the wetness that normally would be soaked up by lace panties begins to form a single trickle that traces its way down her inner thigh. She unzips him and thrusts her hand into his pants. Robert's dick is hard and warm. His shaft fits perfectly in the palm of her hand. She circles his tip with her thumb. Slowly. Counterclockwise.

She inhales and whispers, almost begging as she speaks to him. "I want you inside me."

He reaches his hand behind him, slides his hand across her face, and slowly combs his fingers through her hair, pressing her face deeper into his neck. She breathes in his cologne. He clenches her hair and whips her around with enough force to have given her whiplash. The gust from being twirled around has blown all the eroticism out of the room.

There is a look of rage in his eyes. She's confused, and scared. She surrenders to her knees, but is bent awkwardly, because he still has her hair in a death grip.