Lesbian Female / 69
Turned Into Bitches We Had Our Master
I was just barely 18 and she was 21. It was my first openly sexual relationship. We lived in a small upstairs apartment. She worked as a cashier at the A&P and I worked as a barmaid. We met through friends. Next door to us lived a man, he was in his thirties. He was a truck mechanic. He had been to Vietnam, and he had burn scars on his back. He decided that we were his bitches.
That day, was the day he was going to make us his bitches. The apartment was so small, he was focused on her and he had her, leaving her on the bed, her open sex was all I could look at. She followed him with her eyes as he moved around the room, he peed, and came back in. His head told me to get on the bed, she offered herself again for him to leave me alone. He took me, I held back but I went, I lay beside her and he took me until he had satisfied himself.
He was now our Master and we were his bitches. He had us both tattooed with the same mark he had on his chest, he had it put on the inside of our wrists. We moved quickly to a small house where he made us pregnant. We learned how to respect him and keep the house clean. We had our room, and he had the other room. Sometimes he brought another bitch home, but he never brought one that he wanted to keep. We were his keepers, and we were the ones he kept pregnant.
Our lives were busy with the children, keeping the house, respecting him. He didn't differentiate with us, which of us was primary, but Joy was the one that talked with him, and they decided on the day to day matters. With four children he had moved in with us, but we needed a bigger place and the issues of schools came up over and over. Joy didn't like where we lived for the children and he finally agreed that we would move out, go to where the schools were better and where Joy could have the house she wanted.
We raised our children in that house, and added a fifth child several years later. I just missed having a little one. He was happy. He had the life he wanted. Out there, away from the world of Masters and Bitches he called us his wives and he worked himself into the community. As the children grew and their needs grew with him, he got involved in the sports programs and for the girls we had the classics, dance and tumbling. In his house, you were either all boy or all girl, and that applied to us. We were all girl and we loved being girls.
Only the 'baby' was home, the others were in college, when he was diagnosed with bone cancer. It was incredibly painful, we watched over him and cried when we were alone. The doctors did what they could, what treatments were available. What brought it on, one hundred guesses, but none of that mattered. He lasted a little over six months, and most of that on pain killers which stole him away from us.
Joy and I spent some time at the cemetery the other day. We bought two side by side plots for her and me. We have been lovers and wives together for over fifty years. We will lay beside each other. Our children, even our baby, all have their wives and husbands and their children. The Old Man is sometimes part of their discussions, how he was and how their memories hold him. We do cry at night, no matter, our bed always feels empty, he isn't there to smile down on us, satisfied with us. Our kids don't like us saying it, but he was our 'Master' we were his 'Bitches'. Before we were civilized and he became our husband and we became his wives and we had moved to suburbs.
That man really enjoyed fucking us.
That day, was the day he was going to make us his bitches. The apartment was so small, he was focused on her and he had her, leaving her on the bed, her open sex was all I could look at. She followed him with her eyes as he moved around the room, he peed, and came back in. His head told me to get on the bed, she offered herself again for him to leave me alone. He took me, I held back but I went, I lay beside her and he took me until he had satisfied himself.
He was now our Master and we were his bitches. He had us both tattooed with the same mark he had on his chest, he had it put on the inside of our wrists. We moved quickly to a small house where he made us pregnant. We learned how to respect him and keep the house clean. We had our room, and he had the other room. Sometimes he brought another bitch home, but he never brought one that he wanted to keep. We were his keepers, and we were the ones he kept pregnant.
Our lives were busy with the children, keeping the house, respecting him. He didn't differentiate with us, which of us was primary, but Joy was the one that talked with him, and they decided on the day to day matters. With four children he had moved in with us, but we needed a bigger place and the issues of schools came up over and over. Joy didn't like where we lived for the children and he finally agreed that we would move out, go to where the schools were better and where Joy could have the house she wanted.
We raised our children in that house, and added a fifth child several years later. I just missed having a little one. He was happy. He had the life he wanted. Out there, away from the world of Masters and Bitches he called us his wives and he worked himself into the community. As the children grew and their needs grew with him, he got involved in the sports programs and for the girls we had the classics, dance and tumbling. In his house, you were either all boy or all girl, and that applied to us. We were all girl and we loved being girls.
Only the 'baby' was home, the others were in college, when he was diagnosed with bone cancer. It was incredibly painful, we watched over him and cried when we were alone. The doctors did what they could, what treatments were available. What brought it on, one hundred guesses, but none of that mattered. He lasted a little over six months, and most of that on pain killers which stole him away from us.
Joy and I spent some time at the cemetery the other day. We bought two side by side plots for her and me. We have been lovers and wives together for over fifty years. We will lay beside each other. Our children, even our baby, all have their wives and husbands and their children. The Old Man is sometimes part of their discussions, how he was and how their memories hold him. We do cry at night, no matter, our bed always feels empty, he isn't there to smile down on us, satisfied with us. Our kids don't like us saying it, but he was our 'Master' we were his 'Bitches'. Before we were civilized and he became our husband and we became his wives and we had moved to suburbs.
That man really enjoyed fucking us.
