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Chapter 2
Many hours earlier, on the morning of what would be Amanda's last day of freedom, Keith Summers sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee and browsing though the morning newspaper. He couldn't help but notice the FemBoutique's advertising insert -- a glossy full-color catalog with full of pictures of nude women, and below them detailed measurements descriptions of each of their skills. As he perused that particular advertisement, his wife Nora stood at the stove cooking breakfast. She was a petite fair-skinned woman with long black hair, smooth, unblemished skin, and an incredibly attractive figure. She was, in short, the type of woman who, in another era, might have been referred to as a "wet dream," or, perhaps, "eye candy." Keith glanced up at his wife and admired her body, reflecting that he really was lucky to have married her. Of course, if Keith were completely honest with himself he would have had to admit that he valued Nora as a sexual partner more than anything else. And if Nora were completely honest with herself, she would have had to admit that this suited her.
As Nora placed eggs and bacon on Keith's plate in front of him, their daughter Amanda rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen, wearing her school uniform and carrying her backpack on one shoulder. She dropped her backpack on the floor next to the table, trotted up to Keith, and kissed him on the cheek. "Morning dad," she said, as she sat down. "Morning Mom" she added to Nora, seemingly as an afterthought.
Keith glanced up at Amanda and saw a younger version of Nora, with every bit as much sex appeal. Of course, Keith had never actually had sex with his daughter, but he did sometimes reflect on how proud he was to have produced a girl who would, someday soon, make some man as happy as Nora made him. Nora glanced at Amanda too, but her thoughts were far less affable. She suspected, with some accuracy, that Keith lusted for Amanda, and that when he fucked Nora he was really fucking Amanda by proxy. She, in short, had the same feelings as the Evil Queen of Snow White, who had one day looked at herself in the mirror, asked "who's the fairest of them all," and found that her daughter had cruelly snatched that honor away from her.
Amanda, of course, knew nothing of these matters. All she knew was that lately her mother had been treating her increasingly coldly for no apparent reason.
Nora placed Amanda's ration on a plate in front of her, and Amanda wolfed it down quickly before springing up, grabbing her backpack, and trotting out the front door. Nora rolled her eyes. She sat at the kitchen table to begin eating her own breakfast after her daughter had left, and remarked to her husband, "I don't know what we're going to do with that girl."
"What do you mean, honey?" replied Keith.
"Well doesn't help out with any of the housework, barely keeps her grades up, and that attitude of hers . . ."
"What's wrong with her attitude?" interrupted Keith defensively. Based on his tone, his wife might have been criticizing him instead of their daughter.
"Take this morning," said Nora. "She didn't help at all with breakfast, she spent maybe two minutes at the table with us, barely acknowledged either one of us, and to top it all off she left her dirty dishes right there on the table."
"She's just at that age," said Keith. "She'd rather spend time with her friends than with her parents. It's perfectly natural."
"That may be, but it's no excuse for her behavior. I shouldn't have to do all the housework around here just because 'she's at that age.'"
"All right, honey," said Keith, sighing. "I'll talk to her this afternoon."
"I don't think talking to her will work," said Nora, "'she's at that age.'"
"What would you have me do then?" asked Keith. "Hire a maid?"
"Why hire one when you can buy one?" said Nora, pointing to the FemBoutique advertisement.
"Look, you know perfectly well that we can't afford buy a woman from the FemBoutique. We'd have to turn one in to get the discount," said Keith.
"Turn Amanda in. She's old enough," said Nora.
"She's our daughter Nora!" exclaimed Keith. "We can't turn our own daughter in to one of these places."
"Honey, I know that's how you think of her, but just look at that catalog," said Nora.
"What are you talking about?" asked Keith.
Nora stood up and walked around the table, so that she was standing immediately behind her husband. She bent over, grabbed the insert, opened it, and pointed at a picture of a particularly attractive redhead. She leaned forward and whispered ever so softly into Keith's ear, "Imagine, if this cute little redhead were here cooking breakfast and washing the dishes. You'd sit there with your paper, looking over it at her tight little ass as cooked and cleaned, while I took care of your . . . " Nora's hands, which had been on Keith's shoulders, traveled down the front of his chest, ". . . other needs."
"You'd be able to concentrate on the important things," Nora was now sensually stroking Keith's chest," and so would I." Nora bent down and gave her husband a long, passionate open-mouth kiss on the lips. Keith abruptly turned around in his chair, which suited Nora well, as it gave her access to some of the more important portions of her husband's body.
Nora sat on her husband's lap, facing him, with her thighs spread apart and encircling his waist. Of course, this meant that the long cotton dress she was wearing had to be pulled up, exposing the white, silk panties she was wearing underneath. Of course, Nora's panties weren't the only thing that was exposed. By now, Keith's hard-on had made his cock clearly visible through his trousers. Nora responded to her husband's arousal by hips, her panties rubbing up and down against his cock through his trousers.
"So, what do you think?" asked Nora, now that she had gotten her husband's full, undivided attention. In a single, fluid motion she pulled her dress off over her head and threw it away. "Doesn't that sound like a better life to you? Get rid of that troublesome brat Amanda and replace her with a sexy slave while I," Nora unbuttoned Keith's shirt, "take care of you."
Nora suddenly stopped her thrusting, stroking and teasing and looked deep into her husband's eyes, awaiting an answer.
Keith grinned. "Let's do it," he said enthusiastically.
Nora smiled back, and slipped off her husband's lap. She kneeled down, spread Keith's legs, and undid his trousers. She then proceeded to stimulate her husband, first with her tongue only, licking the tiny bit of pre-cum off the crown of his cock, then running her tongue up and down his rock-hard shaft. She then wrapped her lips around his cock, and used every bit of her skill to stipulate her husband, and to satisfy him. In other words, she did that which was made popular by Gerard Damiano's 1972 classic "Deep Throat," and made infamous by Former President Clinton's oval office escapades in the mid 1990s. And she did it well.
Nora knew that even with reasonable and compassionate men like Keith, all bets were off once he had a hard cock. If one wanted to persuade a man to make a decision motivated by lust and cruel animal instinct, like selling his own daughter into sexual slavery, then one must appeal not to his mind but to his cock. A hard cock has no conscience.
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