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That Childhood Crush on Uncle Fred — Chapter 11 — Stalking Bella

When Fred ends his call to his wife, Bella is on her knees at her uncle’s feet, aware now, that her aunt knows of their mutual attraction and means to aid and abet it, even participate…

• A Collaborative effort by Medium.com/@toddhammerrick and Medium.com/@evelyngaede

[embed]List: Stalking Bella | Curated by Evelyn Gaede | Medium Stalking Bella · Bella hires a company to make her favorite daydream real life experience. · 10 stories on Mediummedium.com

• *Warning! For Mature Audiences. Taboo scene. Explicit language. All events, characters and locations in this story are fictional, in no way meant to mimic or resemble any real person, place, or event.**

Chapter 10

Fred Sinclair stared at his niece. The kitchen didn’t seem the proper place to take ownership of this willing submissive but as he considered better places for a quickie, his dick screamed a different message. ‘What’s wrong with right here?’

Aloud, he answered this errant organ that had tortured him through years of family gatherings, watching the little girl grow to be a fine specimen of womanhood.

Unable to tear his gaze away, the steady stare left her kneeling there exactly as she was, still fully clothed. ‘That’s the first thing to address.’ A mental note added to the first one, ‘She has kept her eyes on my feet just as Mae instructed.

“Unless we are with family or at the shop,” The voice snapped, a gunshot to insure she understood this was not a game. “You are never to set your gaze above my cock. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Unc…Master.”

“I’ll allow that near-miss of address to slide this time, pleased that you caught it. Should there be another slip, it will earn consequences.”

“Yes, Master. I…” “Stop! You think you’re on the level of personal interaction?”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Very well. I’ll explain in simple terms that a brain-dead zombie would understand.” His tone was scathing. Impatient. Arrogant and rude. Not at all the demeanor of her favorite uncle.

Her panties grew extremely damp. Uncomfortable they were so wet.

“You are my slut-whore. That is exactly how I’ll treat you and except when inconvenient or a danger to either of our reputations you will be forbidden to act human, even to speak of yourself as human. The words “I, me, Bella, mine, my; none of those exist for you.

“When circumstances require, you will say variations of “this slave, your cockslut, or simply, slave will obey. Cockwhore seeks permission to… fill in the blank. Or in regular social occasions, you’ll just have to wing it, speak without direct referal to yourself.

“You will eat only what I personally set down in front of you. Anytime you work in the kitchen you will make sure you are gagged, whether I am here to do it or not.”

“Yes sir. Your cockslut understands.” “I knew you would.” Fred studied the clothes she wore. “Pull the neck of your t-shirt down so your breasts hang over the top of it.”

“slave can’t obey that command, Master. The breasts are too large and too far down from the neck to make that direct order a reality.”

He had known he asked the impossible, had deliberately made the demand to see how she’d react. Now he knew he had her heart and her mind. Soon, he would own her body.

Reaching in the drawer next to the stove he pulled out a pair of scissors. Handing them to Bella, he watched her cut a narrow slit in her favorite t-shirt. Once that was done, she put the four fingers of her right hand in her mouth, made them slick with her saliva; a sneaky trick to show her new Master a trick she’d done to herself every night since early childhood… each time she bathed or showered, every night before going to bed.

Once they were good and wet, he watched her pull them out of her mouth, reach beneath her t-shirt to pull out one breast then the other. ‘Plump balloons, short and meaty, exactly how I like my bare-naked breast. Oh, Lordy Mae, you will have fun with this pair!’

Once she had them both out, she kept her gaze on the floor, the hardest task she’d ever attempted, the temptation to look up to see if her uncle was hard. If there was a glint in his eye or a smile teasing his lips she wanted to see it, memorize it, gloat over it.

He noticed the wet nipples of her breasts, slick with her saliva. With one hand he reached out and slapped each breast. “I did not issue that command.” The slaps were not gentle, both had stung.

“Never do anything but what you are told!” She had known that act would bring instant penalty, had prepared to accept it. Once it happened, she found it a bit unsettling, realizing that the relationship she’d always enjoyed with this favorite uncle would never again be what it was before.

The burn his slap caused quickly spread through both breasts, sending a heat wave straight to her pussy. She fought the temptation to look up, yearned so badly to experience the stern glare of an authoritative Dom.

“Don’t do it slut. The expressions my glances reveal are not for your eyes. My voice will be all I’ll allow when not socially engaged with work or away from home. Was that punishment enough to remember?”

“May your slut offer the honest reply?” “I demand it.” “No. Those two slaps merely excited your whore.” “Very well.”

Bella expected to see a whip or paddle. What he brought out was two clips used to keep sealed open bags of chips and snacks. He put one tight clip over each nipple, that morphed her comfort level from mild discomfort to knees and back to major pain that radiated everywhere at once.

She wanted to reach up and pull them off but resisted that temptation by digging her fingernails into her thighs.

“As a slave you will own NOTHING. I will hold the deed to your house and Title of your car. Your keys will be in your possession only when I allow them to be. How do you feel about submitting to me now, cockwhore?”

“It excites cockwhore, Master. Please, go on. Don’t stop.”

“Very well,” His tone sounded bored. If his slave had managed a peek, she would have realized his mood was NOT BORED.

“Unbutton your jeans then pull the zipper down.” Bella reached for her waist band, stopped when her uncle growled.

She’d forgotten the proper form of address.

“Yes, Master.” Mentally, she was critical, not subservient. ‘Really? Every fucking time?’

“Yes. Every FUCKING TIME.” He’d known her a long time, YEARS in fact. Had no problem reading what went through her head. “I want every chance I can grasp, use even the smallest excuse to PUNISH YOU. Let them fall to the ground.”

The jeans fell to her ankles. Her uncle snickered at the hip hugger panties. “I thought your generation wore panties with the bottom bare and a string up your crack.”

“slave hates those. Only wears that style when the fabric shows panty lines.”

“Use scissors to cut them off.” “Why not…” She stopped mid-question, silenced by his expression.

This pair was comfortable. She hated to lose them but with a heavy sigh she stopped arguing and took the first snip, destroyed the elastic at the left side of her waist down through the silky fabric to the elastic leg band… cut through that thin barrier.

Half of the front and back of her panties fell away but the other side stayed in place, unfazed. She repeated the process with the right leg band. The panty fell off in two pieces, front and back.

“Pick up both halves. Stuff them in your mouth as if you were hiding evidence to avoid someone catching sight of them.”

The thought disgusted her. How many times did she find curly pubic hair on that narrow strip of cloth?

Fred watched her body stoop, bend at the knees to sit on her heels long enough to pick up both halves.

“When you stand up, and after the panties are in your mouth, I want you to face me with legs spread wide, both hand palms against the back of your head, fingers clasped with elbows pointing out. Remain in that position while I drink a cup of coffee.”

After she was once again on her feet, Fred slapped a pair of metal handcuffs on her wrists then sat back on his tall stool to watch her stuff the panties in her mouth.

“Tantalizing sight, how your cheeks bulge out like a chipmunk, your breasts hanging out, your hips and legs naked. Does that crotch taste good, slut?”

She shrugged, stuffing each part of her favorite panties in her mouth. Once she was in position with legs spread wide and palms of her hands on the back of her head and elbows pointed out, Fred sauntered over to the coffeemaker, poured his ten-ounce mug full of coffee, returned to sit on a nearby stool.

Drinking his fill of the sight before him, he sipped his coffee. After minutes of gazing, snapping pics, he flipped through headlines of his news site, watched a couple tik-tok videos, then set his phone to record video. Another period of long minutes to stare at her breasts and pink labia peeking out from the fur covered pussy lips.

Then he called his wife. Put his phone on speaker so his new slave-toy would hear every word.

By time they had finished discussing how best to decorate this new acquisition, Bella’s limbs were trembling, tears welled in both eyes, threatened to spill at any moment.

Fred said a quick goodbye to Mae, positioned the phone so it could video their next minutes, picked Bella up and set her down on the stove.

“Slip your hands over my head, let your arms rest on my shoulders. I want your fingers to massage my neck and scalp as I pound your sloppy wet cunt with my hard cock.”

Bella blinked twice, grunted the request to please hurry. She’d waited a lifetime for this moment!

Fred pulled his cock out of his jeans, scooped one hand under her bare ass, used the other hand to guide his cock to the opening of her cunt. The first plunge was hard and fast. Bella groaned, thought her world had just turned ten degrees closer to heaven.

Then the back door opened…

[embed]List: Stalking Bella | Curated by Evelyn Gaede | Medium Stalking Bella · Bella hires a company to make her favorite daydream real life experience. · 10 stories on Mediummedium.com