Betty Black – sequel to Thai Chicken
Jim Fredericks was a busy man. A billionaire many times over, Jim had no need to make any more money, but he had a sixth sense for opportunities in the business world, and when the entrepreneurial spirit hit him, he couldnâ€™t resist taking the plunge into a new and interesting venture. 9 times out of 10, he hit dead on, or close enough to it, to make yet another small fortune. Everyone else might be sinking in the latest tidal wave of catastrophe, but Jim is the one who would have woken up the night before the disaster, and just felt in his gut it was time to sell that particular stock, and got out while the getting was solid gold. His head butler once smirked, and told him, â€œSir, you made more money just today, than I have made in 30 years as a professional. I think I shall go shoot myself now, if I may be excused, sir.â€ He was joking, of course, about the shooting, but not about Mr. Fredericks nose for a â€˜little $-sign making ideaâ€™, as Jim often put it. Today, Mr. Jim Fredericks was head-over-heels into just such a project. He only had one distraction, it was Tuesday.
Betty cursed! A very unusual thing for miss Betty Standwick to do, but these were extenuating circumstances. She was running late for her appointment, and to actually be late would mean, as Mr. Fredericks warned her, losing her place as his Tuesday slave girl. He would simply have another party, invite friends and tell them each to bring a friend, and take his pick of dozens of eligible young women to take Bettyâ€™s place if she didnâ€™t follow his instructions to the letter. She was well aware that he meant it when he said it. He had often, in her 3 months as his designated â€˜Tuesday Delightâ€™, suffered hardship upon himself, just for the sake of keeping his word to someone. He seemed to rather die, than go back on his word, once he gave it to someone. It was this realization that forced Betty to make a quick, determined, and very risky decision.
One of the first compliments Master Jim had paid slave Betty, was how she sounded when she moaned, with a ball-gag in her mouth, or when she was giving him head. â€œNothing in my vast array of memories, thoughts, imaginations, or experiences gives me an erection quicker than hearing you moan, slave Betty.â€ Jim noted on her first day as his Tuesday slave girl. The remark had stuck with her, and had often motivated her to give him just such a serenade when she especially wanted to please him, since that fateful day. It was this remembrance that gave her the idea, that now had her on her knees, in the bushes, on the roadside, with Mr. Son-of-a-Bitch Highway Patrolman, Trooper McMasters.
Getting stopped for speeding while trying desperately to get to the Fredericks Compound on time, had put her whole new, wonderful weekly â€˜careerâ€™ in jeopardy. As she waited for this State-Trooper-from-hell to finish writing her up, making her sit in his patrol cruiser while he took his sweet time with the ticket, no doubt so he could get several eye-fulls of her curvaceous body, and long bare legs sticking out from under that wonderfully short black dress, Betty concocted what she hoped would be a workable plan to speed the process up, and get her back on the road in time to meet her 5:00 PM deadline. It was presently 4:30, and she had another 15 minutes to get to her destination, get through security, and be ringing that door bell at precisely five oâ€™clock, as instructed, â€œno sooner, no later.â€
There was no doubt that Trooper McMasters was attune to Bettyâ€™s offer when she made it. â€œExcuse me, Mr. McMasters. That is your name on your badge, isnâ€™t it?â€ â€œItâ€™s Trooper McMasters, miss. Now, uh, whut is it?â€ he retorted, like the Alabama redneck he was. â€œI just wondered if there was inny little oâ€™ thing a little girl like me could do to maybe speed up this whole â€˜getting a ticketâ€™ thing. Iâ€™m just in a dreadful oâ€™ hurry, you see, and I thought maybe (as she gave him her patented cow-eyed pout) if I could do something to make it worth your little oâ€™ while to let little oâ€™ me goâ€¦(batting her magnetic blue eyes at him), Iâ€™d surely be more than proud to accommodate you, sir.â€ â€œWell, uh, whut xackly dâ€™ju have in mind, miss uh, Stand-wick?â€ â€œWell, my boyfriend tells me I give awful good head. And I donâ€™t never tell him, cause he donâ€™t need no silly encouragement from me, but I love to do it for him, and so I was wondering if youâ€™d maybe let me practice on you, and maybe instead of that nasty ticket, weâ€¦..
Betty didnâ€™t have to finish the whole proposal. Trooper McMasters saw a chance of a lifetime staring him in the face, and he threw open his cruiser door, ran around to the passenger side, got Betty by the right hand, and practically drug her into the roadside bushes, where he proceeded to make himself ready for this â€˜trade agreementâ€™, he hoped before he shot off pre-maturely from the sheer thrill he was feeling right now! This girl was a knock-out in his, or any other human maleâ€™s book, and he was gonna get a blow job from her?! For free!? Shit-Fire!!! He stood in front of her steaming-hot form, unzipped his fly, and revealed what to Betty, was the shortest, fattest, stubbiest, poor excuse for a dick she had ever seen. She gulped back a laugh, kept a straight face, and exclaimed in her best â€˜OMGâ€™ tone, what an enormous piece of manhood he had, and then she got the idea that saved her. As she wrapped her lips around his tiny fat prick, she began to moan. That sound, and vibration that always served to please Master Jim to no end, had an even more immediate effect on Trooper McMasterâ€™s tiny tool, and he came in 60 seconds flat. When he finished squirting his two or three drops, hardly enough for Betty to even have to taste, he leaned back against the tree behind him, grinned the most smart-aleck grin sheâ€™s ever seen, and said, â€œWell miss Stand-whutever, I guess that was a mighty big jolt for a little filly like you, but thatâ€™s the way us big strong troopers are.â€
She just gave him the best â€˜O dear me!â€™ look she could muster, said, â€œMy my, that was really something, Trooper McMastersâ€¦.but Iâ€™ve just got to be running along now, yâ€™all do understand, sir?â€ she said in her best fake southern accent. He gave her a sly grin, and said, â€œThatâ€™s okay little one, you run along now. And next time youâ€™re on this stretch oâ€™ road, you jus â€˜member to look ole Trooper Mike up again. I reckon we can make the same sweet deal any ole time, darlinâ€™.â€ She thanked him profusely, then turned and ran back to her car, and got on her way, leaving that spent half-dick feeling like heâ€™d just conquered Cleopatra herself.
4:55 PM, Betty turned into the Fredericks Compound drive. She couldnâ€™t just speed straight up to the door. First she had to show her i.d. to the guard, even though heâ€™d become accustomed to seeing her arrive at about the same time each week for a while now. â€œGood to see you again, Miss Standwick. Please proceed with caution,â€ the guard nodded politely. Betty drove the remaining Â¼ mile, to the circle drive that came up to the main houseâ€™s front steps. The valet opened her door immediately, knowing full-well she was in a hurry, took her keys from her with a doff of his cap, bidding her good evening, and she scurried to the front door, ringing the bell atâ€¦.5:02 PM. No one answered. Betty rang the bell another 4 times, hoping against hope she hadnâ€™t missed her deadline too badly. At 5:10, she hung her head, dejected, and started to softly cry.
Vain to the end, though, she came to her senses, and before any of her mascara could start to run, she reached into her tiny black purse, and pulled out a white handkerchief. She wiped her nose, and then patted her eyes. Inspecting the white cloth, she saw no sign of black marks, and stuffed the rag back in her bag, then turned to leave. As she slowly made the trek down the 13 steps of Frederick Manor, she saw the valet walking back from parking her car. He saw her at the same time, smiled, and cocked his head to hear her better as she gave a deep sigh, beginning to ask him if he could please retrieve her little Chevy Camaro, as she would be needing to leave again, sadlyâ€¦.
Jim Fredericks was furious! Not only had this schmuk from Paduccah, New Fucking Jersey kept him on the phone too long, but he was such a blabber mouth, going on and on about â€˜who-the-fuck-knows-what!â€™ Jim complained to his assistant. Whatever thought he had at Noon today, about investing in this sinking ship of a company, was long gone now, and if that ass-hole called back, he was to be put on proverbial hold, was Jimâ€™s exact instructions to Herbert. Now, Jim was jogging through the hallway, running actually. He was fucking late! He was NEVER fucking late, goddammit! NEVER!! He would shoot one of his assistants if they were ever late, now he was running late for the most important part of this otherwise pointless day! â€œDamnâ€¦IT!!â€ he fumed. Striding to the front door, he flung it open without bothering to know if anyone was there, had been there, he was just eager as hell to see slave Betty standing there, and when she wasnâ€™t, he raised his hands, looked up in the sky and shouted â€œMother Fucker!!! Kill that fucking bastard!!!â€ meaning the fucking bastard from New Jersey who had now caused him to miss his Tuesday delight.
Betty wasnâ€™t far away, yet. She had made it down the stairs, and was standing near the valet booth, waiting for her car to be brought around, when suddenly she heard all this ranting and raving coming from the front door. She turned and looked, and to her amazement, it was her Master, Jim himself. She could hardly speak from excitement. She choked down some air, and shouted up at him, â€œMaster Jim, is that you?â€
No matter what you have to do, when the goal set before you is valuable enough to be worth the doing, itâ€™s no problem at all. And if you have to suck a few tiny cocks to get the job done, how is that even a problem? These were some of the thoughts going through slave Bettyâ€™s mind now, as she sat contented, happily waiting for her beloved Master to finish tying off her elbows, and finish hog-tying her, as she lay face down, naked and gagged, on his luxurious king size bed. â€œYou know, Iâ€™ve seen a lot of beautiful women in little black dresses, Betty,â€ Jim said as he double-checked some of the knots holding his slave immobile and curled up, ready for his pleasure. â€œBut you are by far the most incredible. That body-stocking you wore tonight is your signature outfit. In fact, thatâ€™s what Iâ€™ll make it,â€ Jim thoughtfully proclaimed, â€œBetty Black will now be your name. When you get home, youâ€™re to go to the courthouse, and have your name legally changed to Betty Black. Whatever such a procedure costs, just send me the bill.â€ Betty turned her head until she could make eye contact with her captor-lover, and simply nodded in obedience. He understood she couldnâ€™t speak. The bit-gag heâ€™d used on her tonight was too prohibitive of such, not that she minded, at all.
Nor did she mind any of the elements of her bondage, tonight. Master Jim had done a wonderful job of making her immobile, and yet in every way, available. Her hands were curled up behind her back, in a position called a reverse prayer. Her palms faced each other, but were turned around so that her fingers pointed upward, and her hands rested in between her shoulder blades. The rope coupling them, was then drawn over her shoulders, and around her bare breasts to make a secure harness for her luscious globes, and the pressure of the rope also helped keep her nipples hard, something Betty knew was pleasing to her Master, and thus was, to her also. This positioning also kept her hands from interfering with anything Jim had in mind to do with her lovely bare ass. And it kept her shoulders pinned back nicely, which magnified how well her tits stuck out, for her Masterâ€™s visual and sensual delight.
But, he also did a nice job with her feet, and legs. With ankles crossed, he bound them together, and drew them up tightly, securing the other end of the tether to the slaveâ€™s breast harness, thus keeping all the lines close to her body, and out of his way. He could touch plenty of bare skin, without too many ropes obstructing his view, nor any of his further maneuvering. Back at her knees, he tied a two foot long spreader bar between them, which opened her pussy nicely, but also made it damn near impossible for her to roll over. He could turn her any time he wanted, so she was movable, but not without his direct intervention. A pillow placed under her belly sufficiently raised her torso, and arched her back, so that from the rear it was obviously an easy entry into both her vagina, and her asshole. Sliding her to the edge of the bed, so that her head hung over the side, made for comfortable face fucking, especially since Master Jimâ€™s bed set up so high. Her head was already level with his erect cock.
Speaking of cock, Betty had gleefully admired Master Jimâ€™s, while he tied her up. He was anything but bashful about being naked in front of her, and often got hard just from seeing how he was getting her positioned, thinking she looked so sexy in those ropes. But slave Betty was especially thankful for how nice-sized he was, remembering the â€˜other oneâ€™ sheâ€™d had to deal with this afternoon. She was enthusiastically content.
But, as pleasant and sweet as this all was, Jim was still in command, still the Master, and he had his slave here, nude, bound, helpless, horny, and silenced for a reason, and that was because he was one horny bastard. And, he loved shocking his slave, stinging her flesh with whip and/or crop or paddle, just to hear her scream through whatever gag he chose to silence her voice with. He loved to use several different methods of torture; clamps, clips, pins, needles, blindfolding her to add to the severity of her sensitivity. He loved to fuck her mouth with his cock, while he fucked her pussy simultaneously with a vibrating dildo, all the while allowing another vibrator to run in her asshole. Three holes at once was a delight for him to do to his slave, whichever one, on whichever day of the week it was. He had six regular slaves for every day except Sunday. Betty was the newest, having been serving him for 3 months, and Sylvia, Jimâ€™s Monday slave, was the senior member, about to celebrate her 5th anniversary as his slave, and also his Public Relations Rep.
Whenever Jim Fredericks traveled for a period of time, he chose one from his harem to accompany him, and this was always a real treat for the chosen member. She had him consecutive days, without having to share with anyone. These trips took place frequently, and were always an incentive for all his girls to be on their very best behavior. Since Betty had been on, no traveling had taken place, so she didnâ€™t know yet, what chance she had of being the chosen member. But, she was about to find out, and it would turn out to be one of the most memorable experiences of her young life, as you will see in the upcoming continuation of â€˜Betty Blackâ€™ the series.
Betty Black – sequel to Thai Chicken