Selling Brielle, Part 9

Selling Brielle, Part 9

Story by All These Roadworks (2022).

Author's Note: Writing pays my bills and keeps the lights on - so if you enjoy this story, please consider supporting its creation with the purchase of an e-book or membership from AllTheseRoadworks.com. (Click here to view the store.)

Also - my kinks aren't my politics! I support respect, equity and positive, enthusiastic consent. (Click here to read more on my content policy.)

===

Three weeks passed.

Brielle went to her new job at the church, working willingly and cheerfully for the awful, homophobic, sexual-molesting Pastor George. When she came home each night Jillian looked for signs of distress, waiting for the day when the pastor would grope Brielle as he had groped Jillian on the night of their party. She scanned Brielle’s face for any hint that Pastor George had pushed his fingers into Brielle’s unwilling pussy, or told her that she would end up his docile sex-bunny alongside what Jillian knew to be his unwilling lesbian wife.

But there was nothing. Brielle seemed delighted by her new job, going to work each day with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. And with each day, Jillian grew more frustrated and angry at her inability to prove to Brielle what kind of monster Pastor George truly was.

She took out those frustrations by thinking of Joel. She performed the little tasks that Joel set for her - mixing his sperm into Brielle’s meals, recording her confessing her sexual fantasies, discreetly filming footage of her naked in increasingly compromising positions.

Often she filmed sexual encounters between Brielle and herself, and in these, Jillian’s nude body was often fully visible alongside Brielle’s. She told herself these were mistakes - that she had been forgetful in how she framed her shots and edited the video - but somehow she always ended up showing the unaltered video to Joel, and she couldn’t deny that these videos were the ones that pleased him most of all.

She visited Joel twice a week, and when she arrived now, it was always the same. The door would be open for her, and a note pinned to the door would direct her upstairs to the guest bedroom, where she would find an expensive outfit laid out for her to wear. There would be no sign of Joel, not until she had changed, although the house would be well-lit, with light music playing from speakers, and the scent of something cooking in the kitchen.

The dresses were one of her favourite parts of the ritual. Always a new dress, always embarrassingly expensive. They were never so slutty that she couldn’t have worn them out to an expensive restaurant in good faith - but never so plain that she wouldn’t turn heads if she did so. Sometimes they came with expensive sets of matched lingerie, which made her blush at their raw sexuality as she pulled them over her pussy and breasts. Other times there would be no underwear at all, and while Jillian knew she could just use the bra and panties she had arrived in, she also knew what would please Joel, and couldn’t pretend she wasn’t aroused to go downstairs with nothing under her dress but her hard nipples and wet cunt.

Joel would be waiting for her when she descended, and his reaction to her appearance never failed to bring a delighted, embarrassed blush to her cheeks. She never had to guess whether he was sexually attracted to her - she knew it from the glint in his eyes, the smile on his face, and the bulge in his pants - and it made her feel good to be so nakedly lusted after.

He would have her turn around for him, so he could see all aspects of her costume, and he made no effort to hide his long, direct stares at her ass, her groin, and her bust. Jillian loved it - not despite the fact it was objectifying, but somehow *because* of it. She loved being a decoration for Joel, and she loved that it pleased him.

And when he was done, he would reach up a hand to caress her cheek, and he would say, “Good girl,” in a tone somewhere between a father addressing his daughter, and a master addressing his pet, and Jillian would feel herself melting with pure pleasure.

She had no idea how to justify all this. She couldn’t begin to reconcile it with her identity as a lesbian - and a married, monogamous lesbian, at that - and so she didn’t try. She didn’t let herself think about it. When she was with Joel, a part of her brain turned off - the part that said “no”, the part that felt guilty - and she just let herself enjoy being told how good a job she was doing of making Joel’s cock hard.

Joel would serve dinner, and they would eat in the lounge - Joel on the couch, Jillian kneeling at his feet. She had a proper plate, which she would place on her lap, and a knife and fork, and it was a little awkward at times but there was nowhere that Jillian would rather be.

One time, in a fit of blushing experimentation, she had set the plate on the floor, and lowered herself to all fours to eat from it like a dog. She thought it would please Joel - or maybe just please herself - but she was regretting it even as she did it, feeling humiliated and dirty by the depths she was lowering herself to before someone whose opinion mattered so much to her.

To her great relief, Joel stopped her. “No,” he said, his hand reaching down to her head. She felt his hand on her hair - stroking it, but with a suggestion he might grab it, and pull her back up bodily. She shivered.

“Not like that,” he continued. “Not unless I tell you to.”

And she rose, with blushing gratitude, to eat her dinner normally. But the implication that he *might* command her to eat her food like a pet stayed with her, and she couldn’t help wondering under what circumstances he *would* tell her to do so, and what it would feel like to obey…

The next night she woke in the early hours to find herself orgasming, shaking, shuddering, in the bed next to Brielle.

“What is it, honey?” asked Brielle sleepily.

“Nothing,” said Jillian. “Go back to sleep.” Because she couldn’t tell Brielle that she had been dreaming of Joel - of being completely naked, on all fours, at Joel’s feet, as she ate her dinner from a dog bowl, with Joel looking down at her approvingly.

After dinner, Jillian would share her new footage of Brielle with Joel. Joel had set it up now so that Jillian could send the images directly from her phone to the large flatscreen TV in front of the couch. Joel would sit on the couch and extract his cock from his pants. With a condom rolled over the end, he would slowly masturbate to the illicit footage of Jillian’s wife, and Jillian would narrate over the images, and answer Joel’s questions, betraying Brielle’s secrets for Joel’s sexual gratification.

Even as Joel’s eyes were fixed on the images of Brielle, Jillian’s attention was locked onto Joel’s cock. It fascinated her. She wanted to touch it, and on a couple of occasions she reached for it with one hand, only to have Joel push her away.

“Bad girl,” he said. ‘You’re trying to be a good lesbian, remember? Good lesbians don’t play with cock.” He would smile as he said it, as if it were a private joke between them - but nevertheless, he wouldn’t let Jillian near his groin.

He would eventually cum in the condom, and then remove it, and tie it off, and pass it to Jillian so she could take it home and secretly feed it to her wife. Then they would talk for a while, about trivial topics, and their daily lives, until Joel had recovered enough for his cock to harden again, and then there would be another session of “Brielle porn”, and masturbation, with the end result of another condom full of cum.

Jillian felt weirdly jealous of Brielle, as she stirred Joel’s cum into Brielle’s drinks and meals. Brielle got to eat Joel’s sperm, but Jillian wasn’t allowed.

She was so jealous that after one visit with Joel, as she was driving home, she stopped in a darkened car park, and spread her legs, and began to rub her pussy. She thought about how she had spent the night with no underwear. She thought about being called “good girl”. She thought about Joel’s hand sliding up and down his hard cock as he stared at video of Jillian fucking her wife on the large screen.

And as her orgasm approached, she frantically pulled at the knot of one of the condoms, and then tipped the entire contents into her mouth.

It was the biggest orgasm she had had in weeks - and yet as soon as it was over, she was filled with guilt. She had disobeyed Joel. The cum wasn’t for her - it was for Brielle. She had wasted an entire condom that he had wanted to put into Brielle’s stomach. Joel was so good to her, and yet, she had done… this.

She began to slap at her pussy, trying to hurt herself. She knew she was not going to confess what she had done to Joel - how could she? - and yet she deserved to be punished, so there was nothing to do but punish herself. She aimed her stinging slaps right at her clitoris, and squealed with each excruciating impact on her cunt.

She tried to picture it was Joel slapping her, Joel punishing her cunt for her disobedience.

It was a mistake. Almost as soon as she was successful in picturing Joel standing over her, a stern expression on his face as he rhythmically spanked her disobedient fuckhole, she found herself orgasming again.

She knew that she would not disobey Joel again in this way, never again, no matter how much she wanted it.

The next time she visited him, when he got out his cock, she looked up at him with big, puppy dog eyes.

“Please,” she said, “let me help. I don’t care about the lesbian thing. If you’re going to cum anyway, just… let me touch you.”

“No, pet,” said Joel - and Jillian felt herself shiver. Had he called her that name before? “Pet”? Had she allowed him to? Could she make him say it again?

“No?” she asked, batting her eyes hopefully.

“You have to earn it,” said Joel - and he smiled wickedly.

Jillian’s eyes widened - and in that moment, she understood what their relationship truly had become.

She had thought she was no longer selling her wife. Joel had promised to give Jillian and Brielle financial stability, regardless of what Jillian did. The sharing of intimate images of Brielle was just - well, for *fun* now. Or at least that was what Jillian had thought.

But the truth was that she was still selling Brielle - and for much more humiliating reasons than the need to pay her bills. She was selling Brielle to buy Joel’s approval. She was selling Brielle for the chance to sit at Joel’s feet like a pet. She was selling Brielle for the chance to go without underwear to please a man’s cock.

And she knew in that moment, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would continue selling Brielle for the chance to touch that cock, to masturbate that cock, to *suck* that cock.

“How?” she asked breathlessly.

“You know how,” said Joel. “We already discussed it, remember?” And he was still smiling.

Jillian did know. They had discussed it the night they made the new deal. They had talked about how Brielle could be knocked out with ****. About how she would sleep the whole night, unable to be woken.

They had discussed how Jillian might invite Joel over on such a night, to see Brielle’s naked body in real life.

And as she stared at Joel’s cock, she knew that there was no real question of whether she would do it.

“Yes,” she said. “I know how.” And then she added, “Sir.”

“And will you do it?” asked Joel.

“Yes,” breathed Jillian.

And that word had never sounded hotter to her in all her life.

(TO BE CONTINUED)