Soft-core slavegirl books

After Alison left, I contemplated visiting a used bookstore to pick up some historical bodice rippers. You know the ones I mean, with a Highlander or Viking or Apache warrior tearing a dress off the soft white shoulder of a beautiful maiden. Especially after hearing Alison's earliest sexual fantasies, I was pretty sure I could find something close to what she dreams about, but I had something specific in mind, and I didn't have to even leave my house to retrieve what I want.

It does not take long to find what I am looking for; I've been slowly collecting these books for the past forty years and although I do not read them often, I have continued adding to my small stash, so I have over a dozen books with similar themes. In the end I selected a John Norman classic, a historical fling set in ancient Rome and a relatively new sci-fi space opera complete with both futuristic space-fleets and primitive barbarians eager to plunder the soft, civilized planets of the failing Imperium.

--

I wipe the dust off the books and bring them back upstairs where I set them down on my bed. They'll have to sit there while I do my shopping, but the extra time should give me a chance to think through what I was doing. I move through the aisles of the supermarket on autopilot as I try to decide exactly what it is that I want from Alison. Fran knew about these books of mine and would occasionally indulge me, allowing me to 'capture' her and bring her to my bed to ravish, but it was not really her thing and so mostly the idea of owning and taming a slavegirl was a private fantasy. In spite of Alison's conflicted feelings about her sexual awakening, I might have a real opportunity. Based on our first encounter, I am pretty sure she'll be much more willing to play the collared slavegirl at the mercy of a powerful master than Fran ever was, and that she'd enjoy it more too.

Back home, after putting away the groceries I sit down on my chair and skim through the books marking the pages that described how the pretty young women were captured, trained and sold. Surprisingly the actual descriptions of sex in these books are pretty tame; less explicit even than the romance novels sold in the local grocery store. All three authors set up the sex scenes well enough, but then drop the ball. They describe in vivid detail how the ****-master takes command his new female, stripping off her skimpy garments, running his hands over her trembling body and even skillfully arousing the chained ****'s sensitive flesh. When it comes to the actual fucking though, the reader is left pretty much to their imagination. The books aren't anywhere near as explicit as the internet porn I usually read, but I'm pretty sure that for Alison the accounts will be more graphic than anything she could ever imagine.

I guess what I'm hoping for is that Alison will be as interested in roleplaying these scenes as I am. Hopefully she will be excited to play the role of the captured slavegirl being taken by her dominant owner; judging by what she shared with me last night, I think she will. In the books, by the time her master is done with her, even newly captured slavegirls end up enjoying their first time, squirming in the arms of their new owners. An unrealistic proportion of the captured women are still virgins when they are sold on the auction block, so that should fit in well with Alison's masturbation fantasies. As attractive, young, and sweet as Alison is I have no trouble imagining her as one of those innocent captives protesting and struggling helplessly in my powerful arms until I claim her and then have her surrender into a passionate, orgasmic bundle of hot flesh.

I place all three books in a pretty giftbag on the kitchen counter and turn my attention to making the sauce for the shells. Before my retirement, I was content to use the jars at the store, but now that I have time to kill, I like to make my own marinara. As I stir in some fresh oregano from my garden, I try to predict what my young tenant's reaction will be to the reading assignment.

To be honest I don't really have any specific expectations for what might happen with Alison next week, but acting out some of the scenes from these novels didn't sound all that bad for starters. That reminds me that I have to call my doctor and see about some pills. If I am going to be a virile master breaking in a raw ****, I want to be able to hold my own.

Alison shows up a little earlier than I expected. The shells have just gone into the oven, and I am tidying up when she saunters into the kitchen with an excited grin on her face.

“Hey Mr. P. I hope you made a ton of shells, because I'm starving.” I can't help but smile, it's a definite change, and I try not to think too much about my newfound contentment. The fact of the matter is, that even before last night, I had trouble maintaining my grumpy old man demeanor when Alison's smile and cheerful chatter fills the room. Before I get a chance to give her the expected time for the shells to come out of the oven, she spots the giftbag sitting on the countertop.

“Is that for me, Mr. P?” It is impossible to the excitement and curiosity in her voice, I can just picture her as a child on Christmas morning back in Tennessee, “What is it?”

“I'll show you after dinner, Angel.” I tell her as she inches closer to the bag trying to peek into it. “Hey girl, be good.” Alison hops away as I swing a wooden spoon in her direction and grins at me with that sassy smile she has.

“OK, Mr. P.” She cranes her neck one more time before giving up. “Are the shells almost ready?”

“Not for about thirty minutes,” I push the bag back against the wall under the counter, “I still have to make the salad and garlic bread.” Alison perks up when I mention the garlic bread.

“Ooh, sounds fancy, Mr. P.” With a flip of her hair, she turns towards the dining room, “Then I have time to run up to my room and freshen up a little before we eat.” I watch her tight shorts sway as she leaves and have to fight back the urge to follow her like a lost puppy. Instead, with the kitchen quiet again, I start working on the salad and garlic bread. It is nice to have someone to cook for.

Alison had been busy up in her room, because she shows up for dinner wearing an off-the-shoulder evening gown that hugs her slender waist and wraps around her hips. She took the time to put on makeup and her hair has been brushed until it gleams. I have to swallow suddenly and take a second look.

Damn, she looks good. Alison must notice my double take, because she smiles at me shyly.

“I thought I'd dress up.” She stammers, “you know for a fancy Italian dinner like this.” I hadn't planned on making a big deal about dinner, but I appreciate the effort on her part and set the dining room table complete with a white tablecloth instead of eating in the kitchen like I had originally intended.

“If it's a fancy dinner, maybe I should open a bottle of wine.” Alison nods eagerly and I remember too late that she wasn't anywhere close to legal drinking age. I half snort as I realize that in America it is perfectly legal to seduce this delightfully naïve beauty and fuck the crap out of her, but that I could get in real trouble for giving her a glass of wine. Oh well.

I put the bottle away after I fill our glasses the first time. After all, there isn't much point in getting her drunk, I have no intention of trying to get into her bed tonight. It is probably just as well, because even though I opened a smooth-bodied merlot I get the impression that Alison is more excited by the idea of drinking wine than she enjoys the actual taste. The dinner is pleasant enough with some chatter about Alison's day. I can see that she was trying to impress me with her maturity, but more often than not, I am too distracted by the swell of her breasts peaking from under the dress to listen to her. Only after coffee and slice of tiramisu (from the freezer aisle at the supermarket, not homemade) I bring the gift bag to the table and place it in front of Alison.

“Your homework.” Alison gives me one of her patented head-tilts, but when she pulls out the collection of books her eyes open wide and her jaw drops.