My New Family Pt. 03 - Adopting Sisters

Anne continued, "Turns out the girls have almost all the same classes, so they hang out together, mostly at our place since either my husband or I are home after school most days."

"Anne had always seemed so confident. I loved hearing her life story and how she found our little town. When she told me about how she met her husband I couldn't believe it was for real. No one thinks that much about sex or shares that much with a teenager. When my daughter Heather showed me the psych project video Honey and Anne did, I knew I had found my mentor."

Nastya cocked her head and said, "Care to elaborate? I'm lost."

Rhonda shared about the experiment and then how she observed me as the subject for Miss Winter's art class.

Nastya just stared at her juice as she listened. Then she said, "God, I want to feel a real man's touch again; it's been over three years and the last time I wish I could forget."

"It might not be good to share too much where the yoga ladies can hear." Anne said softly as she handed her a card with our address, "if you have the time, join us at my house for coffee. We can say anything there."

Nastya considered the card for a long moment then said, "I have a few hours before my afternoon class. Are you sure you don't mind? Let me stop and pick some items and I will make us lunch."

"I'm looking forward to hearing your story, that's the first step to putting yourself back together. Are you coming Rhonda?"

"You bet, we girls need to stick together. Why don't I get some fresh fruit for dessert. See you two in about 20 minutes." She grabbed her bag and keys, kissed us each on the cheek and dashed off to her car.

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At the house, they quickly spun up a wonderful luncheon of light breads, meats, cheeses, veggies — both pickled and raw — peaches, plums and berries. They sat at one end of the long kitchen table so they could each see one another's eyes.

"I hope you don't mind me starting my story back in Moscow," Nastya began, somewhat tentatively. "If I don't, I don't know if I will make sense."

"Whatever feels good, we will be here to listen. You can take your time, you are welcome to as many visits you need," Anne said. Rhonda nodded her agreement.

"Da. Five years ago when I had finished my courses, I was looking for an opportunity to study abroad. I found an ad for dance instructors in Chicago. I sent in my studio photos and portfolio. About 2 weeks after I took a Skype interview, I received a package with travel papers and a prepaid ticket. I was told I would be met at the airport; everything was taken care of. It was so exciting I didn't even notice there was another name on the documents. My photos matched as did all of my identity papers: 'Anastacya Petrova Johnson'. It was all me...except Johnson.

"Somehow, my appointment included a 'spouse'; I didn't care. I wanted this adventure in America. Randy met me at the airport and took me to the 'studio'. He seemed gentleman enough as he carried my bags up to my room. But after he opened the door for me, he shoved me inside and locked the door from the outside. I was a prisoner. I soon learned to what end. My 'husband', Randy, was a sex trafficking pimp. Thankfully, we had sex exactly one time. He repulsed me.

"Every day when I awoke there was a box inside the door with clothes and a day planner page with my schedule. I was told how to dress and when to be ready. I was fed well enough and the clothes were nice, but I was always locked up or being escorted to entertain clients.

"After about a year someone bought my contract and I was suddenly 'divorced', I wasn't free but I was 'promoted' so I now got a share of my earnings. My new partner told me I could make a good living by catering to special clients who had particular interests that required my imposing size and exotic accent.

"He set me up in a new place and remade me as a Russian Dom. It was easy money, but I never had any enjoyable sex. I was hired to yell, spank, tease, and humiliate men, but it was very lonely for me.

"Eventually, I had some regular clients who seemed to like my service. They were very generous with tips. I never told anyone, but I saved every dollar so I could get away from Chicago; that was my motivation in everything.

"One day, a man who had seen me a few times for humiliation sessions asked for a special session. He paid me $2000 in advance for 3 hours. He said he wanted to be cuckolded — restrained and watching — while his girlfriend and I had sex.

"On the appointment day, they arrived together. I poured them drinks and offered them a seat on the sofa while I finished getting things ready in my 'dungeon'.

"I returned to find her groping him so he would be very frustrated. I took her hand and helped her up and we each took one of his arms and led him to the wooden chair in the middle of the room. She undid his pants and let them fall to his ankles. I pushed him into the chair and slapped his stiff cock. She said, 'Yeah, mind your manners Mr. Big Shot. Teach him a lesson and cuff his hands and feet, Mistress!'

"I went behind him and reached down for the shackles when suddenly I felt a sharp stick in my ass. She injected something. My knees buckled and I slumped to the floor. I was conscious, but totally paralyzed from the waist down.

"'Let's drag her over to the bed and spread her then I'll let Randy in.' The bitch. They hoisted me onto the bed and secured my wrists to the headboard then spread my legs and tied my ankles to the footboard.

"She unlocked the door and that flaming peacock strutted in. He blew me a kiss and said, 'Look at you, Nastya, how far you've come. I never should have let you get away. Oh well, you and your partner have fucked me for the last time. After tonight, you're through in this town. But before you go, I have a parting gift. She's all yours Cyndi. Keep her busy while we find the money.'

"My eyes burned in rage as I watched Randy's rant. I hadn't noticed that she had undressed and put on a huge strapon, which she was now stroking and taunting in my direction.

"Randy and his shill violently upended all the furniture and opened and dumped every drawer in the place. Cyndi mounted the foot of the bed and kneeled between my legs. She licked the fingers of her right hand then slapped my pussy. I flinched, struggling with my arms, to no avail. She slapped again then rammed the huge dildo into me. I screamed as the tip hit my cervix; she slapped my face.

"She rammed me with the dildo again and again, slapping me with one hand then the other on each thrust. I soon shut down and fainted. I had had some awful sex, but never felt such pain, rage and abuse; she was brutal.

"When I regained consciousness, my hands were on my belly in a pool of sticky semen. By the volume, I guess both Randy and his accomplice jerked off on me. The door was open. A breeze blew in. The place was a mess and I was alone. I was glad they were merciful and uncuffed me. I wiggled my feet to see if the drugs had worn off. I guess I was out for an hour or more.

"I untied my ankles and rolled off the bed. I stumbled to the door and locked it. I showered, put on some warm-ups, and made a cup of tea. When my nerves had calmed, I went into my private space behind my closet, which Randy hadn't found. I grabbed my suitcase and personal things. Randy was right about one thing: I was not going to stay another day.

"I picked up the mess, restoring the space to its normal condition. I took my partner's $300 share for the booking from my purse and put it in the cookie jar in the cupboard then I texted him: 'Finished. Really finished. Thanks for everything, but I have to go. Watch out for that bastard, Randy. Don't look for me. I am leaving Chicago for good.'

"I turned off the cell phone and left it on the counter and caught a taxi to the train station. While everyone else on the train slept or worked, I searched brochures for places to stay. I made a reservation at a modest motel on the edge of town. I stayed there on a cash basis for about a month. By then I had the job at the gym, a legitimate income, and someone to give me a reference.

"In November, I am here three years. Safe, secure, and productive, but alone and haunted. I see almost 200 students in my classes each week. None caught my interest until you brought Anne. Then this week, Rhonda you looked different. I could tell you had found peace.

"Today is the day I decided to break the ice. I had to know what is going on with you."

"That's quite a story Nastya," Anne said, "thanks for sharing with us. Rhonda had a birthday this week. Maybe that is what you noticed." Anne smiled.

"Oh, Anne. Don't lead her on. I did have a birthday, but that wasn't what lifted my spirit. It was all Anne. She and her husband," Rhonda said.

"Is this about the birthday present you mentioned as I walked up?" Nastya asked.

"Maybe," Anne smiled slyly. "We are pretty open about sex around here. I guess you got that from Rhonda's story of how we met."

"Annie, do you suppose we could help Nastya the way you helped me?" Rhonda searched Anne's and Nastya's eyes. "We can! I know we can. The girls have their trip to DC in a couple of weeks. I think I have an idea how to do this."

"I think I understand enough of Nastya's story and now that I've seen you and your husband in action, I would like to plan this."

Anne said, "What have I done to you Rhonda?"

They all laughed.

Rhonda whispered the outline of her plan in Anne's ear.

"Yes. I think you may have something. I'm game if you both are."

After Rhonda repeated the idea for Nastya, they agreed. In 2 weeks on Sunday morning after the girls were gone they would act.

CHAPTER 13. Restoring the Damaged Dom

I was down in our gym for my usual Sunday morning workout. Rhonda had picked up Honey early to drop her and Heather at the airport for their senior trip to DC.

I noticed the savory smell of chopped veggies as I topped the stairs. Anne was preparing some kind of casserole for our brunch. Rhonda and another girlfriend were supposed to join us today. I had been hearing about this all week. Every few hours I'd hear Anne's phone 'chirp' with a text then she would get excited and walk out of earshot to call and discuss plans.

I popped into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water from the fridge door. After a long sip, I walked up behind Anne. I leaned in and kissed her behind her right ear as I wrapped my arms around her waist to hug her.

"Go take a shower you sweaty man. I want you presentable when the girls get here," she said as she shoved me back with a thrust of her butt. "I'll be up as soon as I get this in the oven."

I finished my water and set my glass in the sink. I twisted my towel and snapped it. It cracked at the edge of her apron. She jumped away from the sound and turned to face me.

Wagging her finger she smiled and said, "Move it, mister. You had better be naked by the time I get upstairs."

I snapped the towel again in her general direction and hurried out of the kitchen.

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After I started the shower warming, I slipped out of my tank top and shorts and did a few poses in the mirror to inspect the results of my workout. Was the hour of lifting and pushing paying off? Well my skin gleamed with sweat and my body is fairly well toned, so I guess it is.

I stepped under the hot shower, leaned into the back wall and let the flow erase the salty evidence. After a few minutes, I felt the cool breeze of movement behind me. Anne had arrived. She slipped in with me. She was wetting a loofah and pouring in body wash. After a few squeezes, the sponge was full of foam.

Anne slipped between me and the wall. She pressed the loofah into my chest and started washing my torso. "Let me wash you. I want you relaxed and ready when the girls get here."

She washed me with a delicious patience. Slowly, thoroughly she rubbed across my chest and down my belly. She caught a sensitive spot at the front of my left hip and I shivered. "What's wrong big fella? Ticklish today?"

She pushed herself up and kissed my lips. She moved the loofah down to my groin where she pushed the soap-filled scrubber down the length of my stiffening shaft. After she reached my scrotum she pushed harder and rotated left and right then stopped abruptly.

She got down on her knees and washed my left leg with her right hand while she slowly stroked my soap-lubed cock with her left. She changed her grip so she could move behind me and wash the other leg. She stood and washed my back all the while maintaining a consistent stroking pace working me closer to the edge of orgasm.

With my eyes closed, still leaning on the wall with warm water coursing over my back, I'm on the doorstep of heaven as my balls churn in my sac. Click. The door to our bathroom closed, but Anne is still with me in the shower.

"Good. The girls are here," she said. She let go of my cock and gave him a playful slap. "We're done here. Let's oil each other and join the party."

On the vanity across from the shower were a bottle of baby oil, a red lace-up bustier and a red bandana. Anne went straight for the oil and said, "Put out your hands." She poured a generous amount and turned away from me. I rubbed my hands together lightly and applied oil starting at her shoulders. I wiped down her back and arms. I played a bit at her fingers.

She turned and faced me. She poured more oil into my hands and dipped her fingers in before I started down her chest. She oiled my pecs as my palms grazed her nipples. I circled her firm semi-globes, massaging in the oil on all sides.

Rap, rap, rap. "Two minutes?" Rhonda's voice came through the closed door.

"Yes, two. Or maybe three," Anne answered. "Towel off my hair and help me lace this contraption, would you dear." She held the bustier cups up to her chest trying to fit it right. I watched in the mirror as I squeezed most of the water out of her hair. Satisfied with the position, she pressed her arms tight to her sides and said, "That's dry enough. Okay, now do the laces, please. It needs to be pretty snug."

As I got her laced enough she could feel confident moving her arms, she reached her hand back to resume teasing me. To be honest, putting in the concentration to lace her had allowed blood to redirect away from its usual playtime precincts. She grabbed on firmly and pulled from my belly then squeezed a few times.

"Tighter. It needs to be tighter." She moved her hand down to my scrotum and squeezed again. "C'mon, you can get this done faster. I see you getting hard again. You must not be concentrating. I am going to keep increasing pressure down there until you finish." I had 35 of the 40 loops strung. She wasn't joking, the pressure was getting to me. In the mirror, I could see sweat beading on my brow, her breasts heaving in the tight corset and a determined look on Anne's face. Last loop — I tied it in a simple bow, grabbed her shoulders and spun her around and kissed her. Her hands were still very slippery with oil, so she released my balls as she spun. She let the kiss dwell just a moment before pushing me away so she could inspect the lace job. She grabbed a hand mirror from the drawer and held it up and looked over her shoulder and smiled.

"Nice job." She said. She quickly wrapped her damp hair into a bun. "Come here," she beckoned. As I leaned in to kiss her, she slid the knotted bandana over my eyes. "Ready for some fun?"

"If it involves seeing you in that sexy lingerie, you bet!"

She let her arms slide between my arms and sides and hugged me hard. "It does. we have quite a show planned for you, but you need to keep this blindfold on until we can properly reveal the scene, okay?"

I nodded. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and grabbed me by the cock to lead me into the bedroom.

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The air in the bedroom was significantly cooler having not been warmed by the shower. As soon as we cleared the door four cool hands clamped around my biceps. The girls led me about 10 steps passed the foot of the bed then turned me so I was facing the four-post king bed. They pulled me backward. I felt a chair at the back of my legs. The hands came off my cock and arms; two pushed back on my chest and four pressed down on my shoulders.

Within seconds my wrists were strapped to the back legs and my ankles were bound to the front.

I sat there immobilized in the dark. My senses of smell and hearing were kicking into a higher gear in the sensory deprivation. I heard the rustle of fabric as additional costume or scene elements were readied. I smelled tropical fruits, the scents of lubricants that Anne likes. After several minutes, I felt the rush of movement around me and then behind. Rhonda said in an excited voice, "Let's do this!"

The blindfold was removed from behind me. Although only covered for a few minutes, my eyes needed several blinks to adjust to the brightness of the room. All the shades were open and sunlight bathed the floor and wall to my right. I was seated in a simple wooden chair about 6 feet from the foot of our bed. Above our bed, the large mirror was adjusted to reflect the 80-inch TV on the bureau behind me to my right. It was flipping through a slideshow of our wedding album.

The screen went blank then split. The left side of the screen lit first. It was our bed at almost the same perspective I have now. There must be a video camera behind me. When the right side feed came up, I saw myself in this chair. I saw the one camera over by the window pointing toward me I could also see Rhonda behind me operating the other camera. She was wearing a pink corset with matching silk stockings and gloves that go up past her elbows. To the right were Anne and their other girlfriend — kissing.

Anne had on long white gloves, like Rhonda's. Their friend was in black with a black lace mask covering her cheeks and forehead. Her hair was combed back and tied in a tight bun. I saw them gather behind me and each reach one of their gloved hands around me. They ran their fingers lightly over my torso, tickling anything that would respond.

Click, splurt. Lube was squirted into gloved hands. Anne knelt in front of me and wrapped both her hands around my cock, thumbs below, interlaced fingers above. She squeezed gently and stroked languidly for about thirty seconds; the light touch of lubed satin gloves felt incredible. Crack. I flinched at a sharp blow from a riding crop striking my left thigh near Anne's forearm. "Stop. Squeeze and hold," the friend in black said with a Russian-sounding accent.

"I think he likes that too much, don't you?" she said looking directly in my eyes.

"Actually, yes. I've never felt anything like that before," I replied.

"I hope for your sake you can remember it, because today you don't feel anything unless I command it. Get to the bed and sit Anne. Now, feel this..." She pulled the edge of the black leather end of the riding crop up the inside of my leg and along the hollow of my thigh. She stepped behind the chair and continued tracing up my arm, across my shoulders and down the other side. Slap! I flinched. She laid a welt on the inside of my right thigh then moved the crop up between my legs and lightly patted my balls.

"Do you know what a cuckold is? Hmm?"

"Not exactly. Well, actually, no."

"Today, with the help of my lovely assistants, Mistress N will teach you. This one," she pointed the crop at Anne, "is the one you love. Today, she belongs to me. I will have her and you will watch. My other assistant has already done half her job, setting up the room to capture your response. The rest of her job is to make sure you stay hard and near the edge of losing your mind. Shall we begin?"

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She tossed the crop at my feet and sauntered toward Anne seated at the foot of the bed. She touched the inside of her left knee with her black gloved hand. Anne purred and lifted her chin. "See how she responds to a woman's touch? Watch me work her into a frenzy." She climbed onto the bed as she let her fingers follow the muscles of Anne's thigh.