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From: Homer Vargas <vargas111@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sabah at the Ball (MC, Fdom, preg )
Date: Sat,  7 Dec 2002 20:10:02 -0500
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Title: Sabah at the Ball
Author: Homer Vargas
Keywords: MC, Fdom, preg
Summary: Sabah deals with some jealous rivals,
Redistribution: No restriction except that the story
may not be changed/edited and the title, author's name
and email, and request for feedback must remain
intact.
First Posted 9/8/01
Last Edited 12/07/02

Sabah at the Ball (MC, Fdom, preg )
Homer Vargas
vargas111@yahoo.com

A sequel to "Sabah and Rod"  Proofread and edited by
Pet Tigress.  Any remaining errors are my own.

Rod slowly pulled himself back to exhausted
consciousness.  He smiled weakly, knowing why he felt
dissipated in this way.  Sabah had Fed again last
night.  It was getting familiar.  A Feeding was like
an attack of malaria, he mused, several days of dreamy
lassitude, then a gradual recovery to normal.  But
even if it were possible, Rod had no desire to be
cured of these attacks.  First, because he knew he was
pleasing Sabah.  More than pleasing her, he sustained
her.  Her very life depended on the sexual energy she
absorbed from him during that orgasmic fury. That was
wonderful knowledge: his beautiful, sexy, marvelous
Mistress needed HIM.

Then too, during his recovery Sabah would spend the
days pampering and coddling him.  Lovemaking with
Sabah would be especially gentle and even more
frequent.  And he knew she would let him loll for
hours, drinking from the fountain of her self as he
worshiped and pleasured her.  Her cum nourished him,
she said.  Sabah was very excited about this discovery
and said it made their relationship more symbiosis
than parasite-prey as with her previous lovers.

Finally, the Feeding itself was never less than
wonderful.  He enjoyed making love with Sabah morning
and night (and when she was feeling frisky, during the
day, too).  But ordinary sex was nothing compared to a
Feeding.  She always made it special.

He still remembered the one a few months after coming
to live with her.  It was typical, if any one of a
series of unique adventures can be said to be typical.
 He never knew exactly when a Feeding would take
place, although of course he knew that Sabah seldom
went for more than three or four weeks without one. 
Thus he was expecting nothing extraordinary when she
called him to their bedchamber early one evening.  

Perfectly posed and perfectly naked, Sabah sat smiling
on the edge of her bed, the bed she let him share.  A
long green gown that would hug every inch of her
perfect body lay beside her.  An emerald choker Rod
had never seen was on the dressing table nearby.  Her
dark hair was piled high on her head.  She was
preparing for an evening out.  Rod was struck by her
beauty and felt regret that he could not accompany her
wherever it was she was going.

"It's the Winchester League Spring Charity Ball
tonight, my sweet," she said reading the question on
his face.  "Will you help me dress?"  Not needing to
wait for his reply she nodded to indicate the pair of
high-top stockings he had overlooked. 
Unquestioningly, Rod took them and, dropping to his
knees before her, began to tug and roll the delicate
fabric up her long firm legs.  As he neared the crotch
the aroma of her arousal overpowered him.  He looked
up at her with the unstated petition in his eyes.

"Of course, you may, my darling, at least for a few
minutes."  Rod's joy knew no bounds as he thrust his
head between Sabah's luscious thighs and drank deeply
of her essence.  Sometimes Rod did not know which form
of worship was best.  This had the advantage of being
more selfless, not that HE did not enjoy bringing
Sabah to climax with his mouth and tongue, and he
could prolong it for hours.  Yet, ultimately he had to
prefer what she preferred, and no matter how many time
he got her off otherwise, Sabah ultimately loved to be
penetrated, long, hard, repeated thrusts of his cock
into her vagina.  Perhaps it was the only time, if
only for a few seconds, but when he was pounding hard
into her, she totally lost control.

Unaware of when she bid him stop, Rod was suddenly
conscious of Sabah's face smiling down at him. "Time
for me to finish getting dressed, my sweet.  I can't
let you make us late."  She waited just long enough to
detect his happiness as he understood the meaning of
her words.  "Your tux is on the bed, sweetheart," she
laughed.  "Did you think I wanted to spend a night
around a bunch of stuffy high-society types without
you, my love?"

Now it was Sabah's turn to marvel as she cast admiring
glances at Rod while she finished slipping into the
gown and matching heels.  She had stripped Rod of all
shyness before her, so he disrobed and began to dress
with the natural grace of serpent changing its skin. 
She loved to look at his hard naked body, the firm
jaw, the black curls.  In her centuries of existence,
she had never had such a slave and lover.

Since he had come to live with her, she had put him on
a weight training and high protein regimen.  The few
pounds of office flab had been replaced by several
more of hard, lean muscle.  Sometimes she could not
believe her luck that his beautiful, intelligent man
was hers.  Her need had been so great the night of the
storm, she would have settled for far less.  But when
she saw him fully dressed in the evening attire that
just hinted at the hunk hidden within, she found
herself humming, "Someday My Prince Will Come."  Hers
had.

"Here are the keys, darling.  Take us to the ball."

Sabah was glad she had kept and lovingly preserved the
old Lincoln.  The wide bench seats were perfect for
scroonching close and laying her head in Rod's lap
like a happy cat.  As he drove the beautiful old car
along the twisting mountain road toward the little
county seat, she resisted the urge to open his fly and
suck the erection she felt in his pants.  She was
saving that for later.  His gentle stroking of her
hair and neck had almost put her to sleep when she
felt him decelerate and enter the winding street of
the old town on what had been the Virginia frontier.

Although the town was perhaps 1500 feet lower than her
property up in the Blue Ridges, the sun had set and an
early spring nip was in the air.  The old stone
country club had been torn down and replaced by a
faux-Classical Revival building that Sabah hated, but
tonight it was blazing with light that illuminated the
surrounding grounds.  Sabah threw her fur around her
shoulders and waited for Rod to open the door.  A
valet took the car as they made their entrance.

Rod was too happy being with this wonderful woman to
be conscious of the impression the couple made on the
already gathered guests.  It would not have occurred
to him that every man in the room envied him, being at
the side of this spectacular woman.  Sabah was well
know in the little town, but no one could remember
seeing her like this, brimming with life,
scintillating sex appeal.  And who was the tall
muscular young man with her?  Nor would Rod have
suspected the depth of instant jealousy the other
women felt when they saw Sabah and their husbands'
reactions.  What had SHE done to deserve an Adonis
like him?  A thousand generations of feminine
intuition told them the young hunk was no casual
escort.  He was totally infatuated with the older
woman and Sabah had him fucking her silly.

"Sabah!  Good to see you," boomed the friendly voice
of Charles Landsworth, Chairman of the League.  "Glad
you could come."  Melanie, Charles's wife, was
drifting their way, a slight scowl on her face.

"Good evening, Charles, Melanie," Sabah greeted them. 
"I'd like you to meet Rod, my new ... friend." 
Melanie lifted a knowing eyebrow.  The pleasantries
continued, but Sabah didn't miss Melanie's judgmental
attitude.  She could almost hear the sarcastic remarks
the blond trophy wife would have liked to make, 'He's
a little young for you, isn't he?'  'Where did you
pick him out, in a sports bar?' as well as the one she
would never have verbalized, though she was dying to
know, 'Does he fuck as good as he looks?'

Sabah was tired of Melanie.  She had tried to be
friendly.  At first, she had been truly happy that
Charles had found someone so soon after his first
wife's death.  Sabah guessed that the young woman had
seduced him, but Charles seemed happy.  Sabah
understood perfectly well that Melanie was jealous of
Sabah's independent standing in the community, while
she lived only in Charles's reflected glow.

Sabah also suspected Melanie secretly regretted giving
up her exciting, if poorly paid life as a junior
lobbyist in Washington for the financial security of
Charles's money, which she spent with abandon.  But
understanding Melanie did not make her any easier to
stomach.  Sabah particularly resented Melanie for not
realizing what a treasure she had in Charles.  When
she allowed herself to pick up impressions, Sabah had
confirmed what his face showed: Charles totally adored
his new wife even though -- and this had been a
surprise to Sabah -- she eyedroppered out the sex to
her still lusty, frustrated husband.

Melanie definitely had her clique.  Sabah noticed that
the group of Melanie's snooty friends, Agatha
Witherspoon, Grace Chriswell, Darlene Simms, and
Marjory Gresham, avoided Rod and her throughout the
before-dinner cocktails.  She noted the slight aura of
hatefulness around the group.  Maybe the time had come
to do something about that, she grinned.

Soon the crowd was called to their seats.  Just as
Sabah and Rod were to sit down, Charles came over to
take Sabah to the head table.  "I have no idea what
this is about, honey," she whispered to Rod as Charles
led her away.  As Charles showed her the place at
right of the Chairman, everyone applauded.

Rod could see on Sabah's face that everything was a
total surprise to her as it was even more a mystery to
him.  He only understood after dinner when the
Chairman announced that Sabah Noor was being
recognized as Winchester's "Citizen of the Year."  Rod
knew, of course, that his Mistress was an amazing
woman, but he had no idea of all her civic activities.
 Not only had she donated considerable sums to many
worthy projects and served on many committees, but she
also volunteered at a nearby hospice.  One of the
sisters stood to give an emotional testimony of how
Sabah had an almost magical power to calm and cheer
the lonely dying people.  Rod found himself choking
back tears of joy and pride for his marvelous
Mistress.  He noticed, however, the group of Melanie
and her fiends in one section of the hall who only
looked on sullenly.  Sabah noticed as well.

Sabah's acknowledgement was brief and tinged with
self-deprecating humor, but Rod had no doubt she was
genuinely touched by the community's gesture.  "So
thank you all again," she said in closing, "but if I'm
not mistaken, this is a ball.  So, Let's DANCE!"

Nodding to the orchestra that struck up a slow waltz,
Sabah walked to the center of the empty dance floor. 
A nod in his direction told Rod what to do.  Although
embarrassed, he rose and made his way among the tables
to Sabah's arms.  The embarrassment evaporated the
moment she slipped into his embrace.  For several long
seconds the entire gathering was struck silent by the
stunning older woman and the handsome young man
gliding around the floor.  The dance was perfectly
proper, but the two bodies moving as one seemed to
generate an erotic field around them.

One by one, other couples began to join them on the
floor and soon the room was filled with happy,
laughing husbands and wives, some of whom hadn't
danced together for years.  As if by magic, feet
remembered dance steps long thought forgotten. 
Wisely, the band kept to tunes from ten or twenty
years earlier, when the mostly middle age crowd had
been dating.  Everything was going according to plan,
Sabah smiled.

"Huh?"  Rod realized he had been so caught up in the
sensuous pleasure of dancing with Sabah in his arms,
he had not quite heard what she said."

"Never mind, love.  We're going to mix things up a
little.  Just tell that to all the women you dance
with and the other thing to Melanie."

"Tell what?" he asked, but Sabah had already slipped
away to invite Charles to dance.  Rod grinned at
Melanie's obvious displeasure as he offered his arm to
one of her friends who, like Melanie, had not joined
in the dancing.  It was Agatha Chriswell, a plump but
pleasant looking woman; pleasant-looking if she didn't
have that superior expression on her face, Rod
thought.

The band had been playing a Western Quickstep, but
dropped the pace to something slower as the mixed
couples got the feel of each other.  Rod murmured
something to Agatha and she quickly felt comfortable
in his arms.  Well, more than comfortable.  Rod was
surprised and a little dismayed as the woman began to
press herself against him more and more tightly.  When
he felt her actually start to grind her crotch to his
groin, Rod looked around nervously for Sabah.  He
caught her eye nearby and she winked.

Fortunately there was a break between songs and Rod
was able to slip from Agatha's ardent grasp.  Although
they were not necessarily the most attractive women
there, Rod found himself asking one after another of
Melanie's friends to dance.  The pattern with Agatha
repeated itself, indeed it got worse.  Rod introduced
himself with the mumbled addendum and the woman
practically went into rut.  Grace Witherspoon danced
him into a corner and dragged his hands down to her
rather too-ample ass.  Marjory Simms groped his
crotch, but Rod put it down to the frustrations of
widowhood.  Darlene Gresham managed to get Rod's hand
into her blouse and Lord knows what would have
happened to her bra if another break in the music
hadn't rescued him.

When he finally stood before Melanie, she looked up at
him with a cold smile.  "Why not Roddy?  We'll dance,
but just because you're a pretty boy, don't expect me
to come onto you.  I'm not an overage teenager like
them."  Melanie tossed her head in contempt at her
companions who were now dancing like cats in heat with
their delighted husbands.

"What's wrong with a man and wife having fun, Melanie?
 Besides..." Rod spoke.

Melanie gave a little gasp as Rod finished speaking. 
"Er... nothing, I guess," she said and slid a little
closer into Rod's arms.  True to her word, Melanie did
not throw herself at him as the other women had, but
she seemed to be in some sort of torment.  The music
had picked up the tempo and Melanie was becoming
visibly excited as Rod turned and twirled her.  She
was double-stepping the beat and flinging her arms
into the air as if in some sort of jungle frenzy. 
Soon perspiration had soaked her silky blouse,
revealing a bra straining to contain Melanie's
impressive superstructure.

When the set ended, Rod led a panting, fiery-eyed
Melanie back to the table where Sabah was now sitting
with Charles.  Sabah seemed to be just finishing up
something she was whispering in Charles's ear when
Sabah nudged him.  Looking up and shaking his head as
if awaking from a dream, Charles's eyes lit up as they
fell on Melanie.  It was a Melanie he had not seen in
a long time, if ever.  Her eyes were wide, her
nostrils flared.  Everything about his wife screamed
that she was hot and needed to be fucked.  It was a
look Charles had longed for and he rose and took her
in his arms.

"Good work, baby.  Want to see how good?" Sabah
giggled as she led Rod away from the pair who were
starting to paw one another.  Suddenly Rod noticed the
entire ballroom was almost deserted.  Most had left,
having drifted home to bed but not to sleep, he
suspected.  In a few corners couples were making out,
but it wasn't a few bared breasts and hiked skirts
Sabah wanted to show her mate.  Giggling softly she
tugged him toward a lounge area.

To his shock Rod saw Melanie's entire set of friends -
but never like this!  Agatha Chriswell was on her
back, her heals in the air, mewing and humping as the
pudgy Raymond Chriswell was fucking her like there was
no tomorrow.  "Yes, Ray baby hard!  I need it!... 
Harder...  HARDER!"

Grace Witherspoon was also on her back, but was not so
happy.  With both hands she had a death grip on the
head of a man - Rod was pretty sure it was Arthur
Witherspoon -- between her legs as she complained. 
"Keep it up, you bastard! <grunt>. Oh, yes, like that.
 Work that tongue, damn you!  I need to get FUCKED,
dammit.  Uuuuh shit, how much longer 'til that
god-damned Viagra kicks in?"

Marjory Simms had no such problems.  The too-thin
red-head was fully on board the cock of a grunting,
heaving black man that Rod recognized as the trombone
player from the band.  "Oh, yeah baby.  Give me more
of that cock, you animal! <gasp> Ooohhhhh, YES!  So
fucking BIG...  Uhhhhngggg... like that, right up in
there where mamma's pussy NEEDS it! <pant> I'm taking
you home, honey.  You're gonna make me
c...Aaaaiiiiieee!" the bouncing woman squealed as she
climaxed.

Darlene Gresham wasn't saying much; how could she?  On
her knees, her face was in the crotch of an astounded
waiter, sucking him as if it was her first drink after
crossing the Sahara.  Meanwhile, a very exercised
Rutherford Gresham had his hands on Darlene's upturned
ass and was pounding away vehemently at his wife's
gushing pussy, making her groan with each thrust.

"Take THAT, you bitch for never wearing miniskirts and
heels and THAT for always turning the lights out!" he
spat as he slammed into her again.  "And THAT for only
doing it on weekends!"  Rutherford was obviously
releasing a lot of long pent-up frustrations.  "And
THAT."  Rod winced at the force with which the
seemingly mild-mannered accountant was ramming his
prick into his whimpering wife's dripping cunt. 
"THAT's for never letting me kiss and suck on those
COW tits of yours and THAT," Rod was afraid he was
going to injure the woman, "Is for never letting me
eat this FUCKING HOT PUSSEEEEEYYY!"

Sabah tugged Rod's hand again to depart the mini-orgy.
 He took a step toward the exit, but Sabah smiled and
motioned with her head back toward the ballroom. 
There on the table where she had sat, was Melanie,
moaning with arousal, her knees bent and her drenched
pussy open to Charles rampant prick.  Her husband was
teasing her, brushing her pussy lips, giving her tiny
pokes that made her squirm, running his rather
impressive member up and down his writhing wife's
slit.  They appeared to be renegotiating their
relationship.  

"Yes, Charles, anything, baby!  Just fuck me. ... God,
I need it so bad.  No, I'll never refuse you again,
promise, I promise!  Huh?  No, not that!"  Charles
seemed to slow his attack.  "No, Charles!  Please,
baby, don't stop now.  I need to be FUUUCKED!  All
right, yes, Yes YES!  Fuck me and you can make me
pregnant.  What?  Noooo ... oooh ...Yes!  Two, three,
anything darling, as many babies as you want.  Keep me
pregnant 'till I'm seventy, but FUUUK MEEEiiiiiieee!"

"Let's go, Love," Sabah almost growled.  "I'm hungry!"


Perhaps she had planned it all along or perhaps the
orgy she had orchestrated triggered it, but Rod saw
that Sabah was about to Feed.  "Hurry, darling!  Get
me home."  

Sabah had been wild in the car, insisting that she
drove so Rod could use the front slit of her gown to
eat her.  The car swayed each time he brought her to
orgasm and he prayed she would slow down.  They
arrived in record time and alive, fortunately.  Sabah
had almost torn off her clothes and his, getting him
in bed.  There was nothing slow and romantic about
THIS Feeding.  Sabah TOOK him.  Screaming with passion
she threw herself down on his cock over and over.  The
sexual frenzy of her Feeding communicated itself to
Rod who humped back with almost superhuman stamina. 
The scene appeared that of a she lion devouring a
gazelle, except this prey was larger than the predator
and the prey was doing everything possible to BE
devoured.  Rod had blacked out at the height of their
simultaneous orgasm.

*****

Yes, that had been one of the best ones, Rod mused,
waiting for Sabah to come in with breakfast -- she
always had a big breakfast for him the morning after a
Feeding.  And enough time had passed for the results
of Sabah's prank that might to become evident.  Within
days of the ball, the wardrobes of Agatha, Grace,
Darlene, Marjory, and of course Melanie had improved
dramatically.  The five women organized a joint
shopping trip to Tyson's Corner and came back with two
SUVs packed full of miniskirts, push-up bras,
almost-illegal blouses, fuck-me heels, stockings, and
an assortment of sleepwear guaranteed to keep a
husband, or in Marjory's case, a growing roster of
boyfriends, from sleeping.  Messrs. Witherspoon,
Chriswell, Simms, and Landsworth couldn't believe
their luck.  Suddenly they had wives who not only
dressed like women during the day, they fucked like
minxes at night.

Grace, Agatha, and Darlene joined a local gym to loose
a few pounds.  Summer was coming and they were licking
their lips at their husbands' reactions when they saw
their wives in string bikinis.  Melanie joined, too,
realizing she needed strength training, as often as
Charles was fucking her.  Marjory, on the other hand,
wanted to put on some weight.  Her new fianc�, Jamal
White, the Washington Wizards' center forward, thought
Marjory needed a few more curves to complement her
astounding libido.  

The gym program hadn't lasted long, Rod chuckled, or
at least the exercise regime soon had to be changed. 
starting with Melanie, one by one over the last month
or so, each woman had started showing off some very
sexy new maternity dresses.



Comments please to:
Homer Vargas
vargas111@Yahoo.com


=====
My stories are now found on
http://www.storiesonline.net (Thanks Lazeez) 
http://www.eroticstories.com (Thanks, Art)
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Vargas/www/stories.html (Thanks Kristen)

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