This is a work of fiction and does not relate to any event in the past and present or any person dead or living . Any similarities to real life living/dead people or events are merely coincidences brought about by the immensity of the cosmos.

The stories to follow contain mature content

Enjoy or...

SENATOR

They called him Senator. I can't say why. It was hard to believe he would allow such information to slip if he truly was. Then again secrets are harder to keep in the company of pillows and sheets. The veterans knew he’d be coming when Madame closed the house early. Our bodies followed the curves of the winding staircase, covered in the finest pieces we owned. Madame promised to reimburse any damages. Those words scared me. In the house, anything could be termed ‘damages’.

I had chosen a soft pink camisole, its lower end stopping just short of my navel. Matching silk started again from the waist to afford me some modesty. It had been a gift from Madame my first day in the house. She’d given me a choice between a camisole, babydoll, teddy bear and chemise. My nervousness coupled with inexperience left me confused as I wondered what kind of toy a chemise was. Madame was not surprised as she had seen all sorts come through her door. She chose for me, smiling as she said ‘You will learn.’

To my left and right were my sisters. We did not share blood; the twins and a couple others being the exception. In the house we were sisters, a mandate set by Madame. The staircase was softly lit, everywhere else around us left darkened. Our attires differed in color, style and material but one thing cut across. We all wore sheer thigh high stockings. It wasn’t one of Madame’s rules so it had to be a request of the Senator. A couple heavy set sisters did not much enjoy it, the tops of their stocking hidden away much like their discomfort.

The sense of every inch of me being watched and scrutinized had grown in the house. Though I could not see it, there were eyes watching us from the darkness. Minutes ticked as we remained on the staircase oozing the seduction Madame expected of us. I struggled to keep the fear in me from showing. Madame materialized from the void onto the staircase. With each sister she passed my heart hammered a little faster.

A finger tapped my bare shoulder accompanied with a whisper to follow. No one disobeyed Madame. At least not without repercussions. Together we climbed the stairs to an audience of mixed reactions. I would be the third to be chosen by Senator. The two before were adamant nothing happened during the time they spent with him. No one believed them once packages came in the day after they were chosen.

Madame stopped in front of thick double doors with golden handles. It was a room reserved for the most prestigious of clients. I’d never seen it opened. Then again I hadn’t been in the house long. ‘I will be blindfolding you’ Madame said, a black cloth covering my eyes. ‘Don’t take it off unless you are told’. I could only nod, afraid my voice would betray me. With a click the door opened, her hand guiding me in before shutting it once again.

A combination of the fear I had of Madame and seeing what awaited me kept my fingers from ripping the blindfold off my face. Darkness can be your friend. Unbidden my hands crossed over my chest, the act giving some form of unexplained comfort. It was quiet, chest pounding out the passing seconds. The creak of a door to my far left put my senses that weren’t deprived in overdrive. Questions flooded as my mind raced to paint a picture. I hadn’t moved since she guided me in, the double door handles cool against my lower back. My ears strained to hear footsteps approaching. Nothing, merely silence once again. But I was certain I wasn’t alone.

Please continue. You write well.

SENATOR II

“Put your hands down.”

The voice was disarmingly gentle. Far from what I had envisioned. It sounded young, manly with barely a hint of command. Hands fell to the side, the motion sending my bosom into a rhythmic sway. He saw what I could only feel. The sharp intake of breath that wasn’t mine all the proof I needed.

The first touch sent a shiver up my spine, the door handle digging deeper into my back. It wasn’t human. Around my neck it looped, catching my shoulder length hair as it tightened, a tiny prick at my nape. A collar. It wouldn’t be the first time I wore one but the one sided darkness added an unexpected flavor. Where it made contact with skin I could feel a tingle I wished would spread to the rest of my body. The tips of my peaks hardened, pushing against the silk of the camisole, raising the lower end ever so slightly to expose more caramel skin. He was in front of me. I could feel his solid presence. How he had moved without me hearing I could only attribute to the thickly carpeted floor my heels rested on.

“Come”

A single syllable word, barely audible but caressing my ears like eager lips nibbling at my lobe. He did not give me the time to ponder, giving the leash a gentle tug, leading a lamb to slaughter. But I wasn’t a lamb. Even as I could see nothing, my steps were sure and measured, hands refusing to grope blindly in the dark. Madame had drilled me fervently to walk run dance in all footwear on any surface. We seemed to move in a set circle, giving me the impression I was being shown off. He stopped, his end of the leash dropping to hit my lower thigh. With his release came the end of the tingle at my neck. I wanted it back, wishing he would hold on to my leash once again.

“Bed is behind you”

It was the bed we were circling. In my dark world there were two doors a man and a bed. I sank back into whatever was behind with all the confidence I could muster. It would either be the bed or the floor that would greet my sparsely clad bum. If I showed I had complete faith in him maybe I would feel that tingle in my neck once again. Luxurious sheets clung to my half moon cheeks, back arching to show my pleasure from victory, thighs spreading as fingers slid from knee to the edges of the valley. With an unhurried motion, one stockinged leg lifted to cross over the other as I let my back fall to the bed, hair a cascading waterfall of black.

The sight bore a reaction from him who watched from a distance, the bed taking the weight of another. I couldn’t help but breathe a little faster, body tensing, waiting for where he would begin.

“Don’t move”

He whispered, breath f-ondling my senses. I waited to be handled by hands, wondering if his palms would be coarse. It did not come. The straps of my heels came undone, falling to the carpeted floor, leaving me with thigh high stockings as thin as the camisole I still wore. It touched my ankle, cold hard and sharp. Before I could shirk away the tingle at my neck came again, stronger, spreading. My lower lip found their way between pearly white teeth to stiffen a moan. It travelled, a sharp blade, splitting open the stocking with ease, working its way up my inner thigh to the valley beyond. In its wake it left a thin faint line of red. Staying still became a burden, fear pain and pleasure growing and mixing in an unholy union as the knife went ever higher. Lips parted to plead him to stop but all that escaped was a moan. The tingle intensified, nipples painfully stiff, wishing for some form of release. The blade reached the end of the stocking and stopped, a short stretch of skin separating it from a field of pink silk, now a darker shade.

SENATOR III

More… I want more, body in tune with the mind. I could feel him peel away the cut stocking, tingle spreading from my neck coming to a halt as he walked away. He spoke with each step.

“Senator are you satisfied?”

We weren’t alone. A sense of dread crept in.

“I see you want to continue with this one.”

A woman’s voice. Neither young nor old. It was not Madame, yet the voice caused my fear to dissipate.

“Only if you wish it Senator.”

The reverence the man held for the woman could be heard clearly.

“The display was pleasing. More than the previous two. Very well. If she’s willing.”

“Are you?”

His words teased a response. I could only trust myself to nod as i sat up, parts of me stimulated to a point of no return. His hand landed on the collar and I instinctively grabbed. It was the first time our skin touched, my fingers unable to sink into the firm taut muscles of his forearm. I shook my head, wishing he’d leave the collar on, shame coloring my cheeks. He could not see my eyes hidden behind the blindfold but he must have seen the blush on my face. A finger traced the outline of my slightly parted lips, tongue darting out to have a taste of what was to come. My body yearned for the sensation from the collar and my mind understood this man had the power to grant it.

With a hand he cradled my head bringing his lips to mine. We kissed, a hunger growing inside of him. My expectation grew as I waited for the tingling sensation. It did not come. Thoughts of why he would deny me climbed to the surface. He wanted more. The more he got the more he would grant me. I broke from the kiss, hands searching till they connected with unyielding abs. Each muscle distinct, guiding me to my goal. With practiced ease his belt buckle fell away taking the trousers with it. A pulsing heat hung before me, free from its holster. And then it came, it’s intensity more than ever.

She fell back, firm supple breasts shooting for the heavens, body trembling from the sensations rippling from the collar round her neck. Each rub of her stiffened nipples against the camisole sent jolt after jolt. Fire raged beneath her skin. With a tug she was free of the wet silk covering her flooded valley peppered with short curly brown vines. A whimper escaped, back arching, gates to the divine parting and a craving for what would bring her pleasure to a climax driving all other thoughts from existence.

“Take me... please...”

HOUSE.... LAGBAJA....

CHAPTER 1

The unrelenting African noon day sun showered its unwanted attention on a young lady in front of a darkened glass door. On her head a straw hat more holes than straw doing its best to block the heavy rays from above. Her hands hung tightly to a purple box lined with felt. On her back a dusty school bag. In the distance a luxury vehicle turned the corner nearly hitting a pole with the street name on it. If the pole had fallen it wouldn’t have been a significant event. No one who mattered called the street by the name printed on metal. Rather they knew it as Lagbaja. On Lagbaja street there was only one building. Those who knew Lagbaja street called the building House. House was large enough to be easily considered a mansion. Still, no one who mattered would accept changing the name.

The darkened glass door opened to reveal an inky blackness within. Whatever invading beams cast by the sun died at its fringes.

“Yes deary?”

A heavy voice came from within. The young lady looked around unsure what to do.

“There is no one else but you deary.”

She took a step back, talking to nothing but a voice coming from darkness a strange concept for her.

“Who are you looking for honey?”

“I have purple for Madame.”

The voice paused.

“Come, I’ll take you to her deary.”

A hand came out from the center of the darkness, its fingers covered with rings of varying colors. The young lady adjusted the grip on the purple box and tentatively held the outstretched hand. The strength it possessed shocked her as she was drawn into the building.

The darkness parted, swallowing her into its belly. The switch from bright noon day to the dimly lit interior of House left her blind. The ringed hand holding onto her didn’t give her a chance to get her bearings, dragging her through long corridors and winding staircases, her backpack jangling as she struggled to keep up. After what felt like an hour, they reached a purple door.

“Knock and wait till you are told to come in deary.”
“Thank you.”

“I’m not sure you should be deary.”

She turned and left, rings clicking with every movement. The young lady, eyes now adjusted to the dimly lit interior knocked and waited. It did not take long.

“Come.”

The door was heavy. Unwilling to set the purple box down, she dropped her bag and put her back to the door. It gave way little by little, her slim frame squeezing through with box in hand, strawhat falling to the carpeted floor. The door immediately shut behind her with a thud causing her to jump and turn to the sound. Her breath came out in short bursts as her eyes for a fleeting moment set on a motionless statue facing the wall.

“Look at me child!”

The voice dragged her gaze with an unrelenting draw, the statue momentarily driven from her mind. It was a spacious room, purple being the dominating color. A woman sat behind a mahogany desk, back ramrod straight, eyes a steely grey.

“Yes?”

Her tone more iron than cotton. The young lady felt smaller in her presence.

“I have purple for Madame.”

Madame paused, observing the young lady in front of her, gaze peeling away the loose clothing she wore.

“What is your name?”

Her voice had softened.

“Asha... Are you Madame?”

“Yes child.”

“This is for you.”

Asha set on the sweeping desk the purple box she had held onto so tightly. Madame looked at it, making no move to pick it up, lost in thought. Waiting quietly, unsure what to do, Asha’s eyes began to wander, mind returning to what she had initially forgotten. It was still there, the statue facing the wall. It was a man, toned bronze butt cheeks exposed to the room as he faced the wall. Asha’s cheeks colored a deeper red when she made out the form of a bronze woman, legs wrapped around his waist, back pressed against the wall

They look so life like… Asha thought, unwittingly approaching their bronze forms. A finger stretched out to touch the toned bronze butt cheeks curious what material could make them so human but her courage failed her, changing target to the small of his back. Her hand froze inches away as she heard a moan.

Mistress... Horaswa...

CHAPTER 2

It was a sound Asha was not accustomed to. A confusing mix of the contented purr of a cat and groan when taking a lashing on the palm. Unbeknown to her, she was watched by Madame. Asha stood there, finger a few breaths away from the statues back. Her eyes followed the curve of his spine, noting where the vertebrates poked the skin into blunt points. She looked for any sign of movement, straining to catch even the faintest twitch of a muscle. The sound she heard still spooked her, sapping her courage to breach the gap. The outstretched finger fell to her side.

“Why are you here child?”

Said Madame, giving away nothing of her thoughts on Asha’s actions.

“... I was taken… from the orphanage in…”

Tears began to slip from almond eyes, turning her speech into a halting mess.

“Hush child. Do not show your tears to others so easily.”

Asha wiped the streaks with a practiced motion. Madame remained in her chair, hand rummaging through a drawer. She came out with a thick brown cigar which found its way to the right corner of her mouth. There it remained, unlit.

“Continue child.”

“I was taken from the orphanage in…”

Madame cut her off.

“I asked why you are here child.”

Asha remained silent, unable to give an answer.

“Very well. Do you know where here is child?”

Asha began to shake her head then stopped.

“I saw a ‘This is Lagos’ sign from the window of the car”

“That is true, we are in Lagos but child…. here... is... House!”

As she uttered the word ‘house’ Madame bit hard on the cigar perched between her lips, hands gesturing around her, pride oozing from her large frame. Asha felt herself being swept in the grandeur of Madame, her confusion about what could be so special about a house lost to the moment.

“You may leave. Find Sister Horaswa and tell her I sent you child.”

“How will I find her.”

“Not my concern. We will speak again child.”

Behind her, the door swung open revealing Asha’s backpack. There was a sigh of relief when she saw the open door, having little confidence in being able to move it from inside. In the corridor, Asha picked up her bag with straw hat in hand, contemplating where to start to find Sister Horaswa. Behind her, the door shut once again leaving Madame alone with her statue.

Madame pondered before picking up the purple box. Light in her hands, it weighed heavy on her heart. A simple lock combination held the lid in place. Carefully she turned it. Each side held carvings, intricate and delicate in their design.

“You may continue… children”

The statue came to life, womans teeth sinking into the shoulder of the man as she felt his member finding its way deeper into pink nectar. Her tongue relished the metallic taste of blood and bronze paint, spasms rippling through her thighs and belly. Peach sized breasts pressed against him as she rode the stallion, gasping in-between thrusts. His muscles bulged, fingers digging into her ample bum as he increased the tempo, her scent driving his desire ever higher. They could both feel the eruption of their heavens was near.

“Enough!... children”

He stopped mid thrust, battering ram and gate both wet; each drip travelling more than four feet to hit the carpeted floor. She remained suspended, her heaving bosom unable to stay still as they both struggled to catch their breaths. Sweat tracked its way down their bodies, revealing dark skin beneath the bronze.

“I want you to be statues!... children”

Both held their breaths, lungs threatening to burst; hearts beating harder to a new emotion. Within they trembled, without they were sculptures. Seconds ticked, each one a lifetime for the figurines in the room.

“You may leave children.”

Her feet found the floor as she unwrapped herself from his waist. Together they scurried out, collapsing on top of each other as lungs greedily drew air once the door shut behind them. In the room, Madame held the purple box, long slim fingers toying with the closed lid unsure what to do. Was she brought here to save or doom House? she wondered, teeth grinding away at the cigar.

Sweet story
Weldone sire

CHAPTER 3

Silent walls watched Asha. Paintings lined their surface, depictions following a single theme. She was lost, the twist and turns seeming endless. The thought of returning to Madame and asking for a guide surfaced and was quickly buried deep with a shiver. She stood before two paths. Neither looked promising. Her stomach growled, expressing its empty displeasure. Hunger was no stranger to her and was summarily ignored. The sound of something heavy falling caught her ears. It came from the right. Without a second thought she dashed forward, backpack beating a quick rhythm. She followed the sound, bursting into a room with its door ajar.

Two women stared at her, shock plastered all over their face at Asha’s sudden appearance. Between them was a large grey chest, it’s handles freshly broken.

“And who might you be?”

Asha spun, a tranquil voice coming from the door she had just entered. It was another woman. Unlike the first two standing by the chest with panic in their eyes, she gave off an unshakeable aura. The door closed as she spoke, hand reaching for a traditional jade hair pin holding up her brown locks. They tumbled down to rest on the tops of her breast and shoulders, obscuring the silver around her neck. A crimson dress gripped her form, its bottom spilling onto the floor in a circular lake of blood. A single slit allowed midnight skin of thigh and crus to go in and out of view with each step. Asha could not look away, drawn by the allure of her.

“Can I ever look like you?”

It slipped out of Asha’s lips as she remained wrapped in the spell of the woman in crimson.

“You should not be here.”

“I’m lost”

Said Asha, still unable to look away from the woman approaching her.

“What is your name?”

“Asha.”

“Who sent you?”

“Madame...”

The answer made her stop; a couple steps from Asha. Back into her hair the traditional pin disappeared. She did not miss the shiver in Asha’s voice when she said ‘Madame’. The two women beside the chest gasped, both taking a step back from it.

“I have to find Mistress Horaswa”

“Very well, I shall help you.”

“You will! Thank you miss...”

“Call me Mistress Sinsi”

“Thank you Mistress Sinsi!”

Her burden now slightly lighter

“But there is another problem Asha.”

“Mistress Sinsi?”

“This place is off limits for all but a few of us sisters. And since you aren’t a sister I have to report it to Madame.”

Asha froze, her relief cut to ribbons.

“I… I… I… Didn’t … know.”

“Maybe Madame will accept that.”

Asha thought of her meeting with Madame and paled.

“Unless…”

“Please Mistress Sinsi, is there anything you can do?”

“Very well. You must say nothing of what you saw here today and I will make sure no word gets to Madame.”

The gratitude in Asha’s eyes were not lost on Sinsi. With a crook of her finger, one of the women beside the box came over.

“This is Taiwo. She will take you to sister Horaswa.”

Asha’s hand was grabbed once again and whisked out of the room. Sinsi watched them leave, a smile revealing pearly white teeth in deep contrast to her ebony skin.

KUNLE

Kunle took a deep calming breath before walking through the black door.

“I’m home.”

“My kabiyesi! How I’ve missed you!”

Pleasant words tickled his ear, a warm body following suit. Stretching on her tippy toes she kissed his cheek. From her neck hung an apron with “#1 wife” boldly printed in bright colors. He’d bought it on a whim, spotting the apron in the display window of a boutique. The cashier had commented he was a lucky man, his answer a difficult smile as he paid. She had worn it ever since.

Hands wrapped around shapely hips, senses taking in the scent of her as she kissed his parted lips. A pleasant mixture of light perfume and kitchen aromas.

“Dinner is on the table.”

She whispered unnecessarily into his ear, the enticing fragrance of the spread all the evidence he needed. Skipping out of his arms, her figure disappeared through another door. He dropped a black nylon on a stool beside the door before proceeding to the table.

Taking a seat before the feast, he licked his lips and worked hard not to drool; the fabric of his trouser stretching. No dish was spared. Wiping the corners of his mouth with a linen cloth, he followed her. Behind him the dishes looked almost untouched. Each sporting nothing more than a single bite.

The room was dimly lit, a large bed flanked by two night stands taking up much of the space. On one was a mint, packet and a glass of water. Consuming both, he sat on the bed, enjoying the feel of silk sheets beneath his fingers.

“How was the meal?”

The apron clung to her, all other material between it and caramel skin no longer present.

“Almost as perfect as you are.”

She giggled, hands wrapping around herself, twin peaks becoming even more prominent.

“Was that too cheesy?”

“No. I like it.”

“Come here.”

Strong arms grabbed her waist, drawing her to him as he fell back onto a sea of rubies. Lips met, one firm the other soft and thin. Her fingers found the buttons of his work shirt revealing the lightly muscled torso beneath. Her palm rested against his chest, it’s firmness resisting her caress. Metal dug against her thigh, causing her to break off the kiss they shared. Sitting up, her naked bottom pressed against his lap. Quickly she removed his belt, sending it clattering to the floor. Heat rolled off him in waves, slight tremors rising. His hand reached up to grab her but she swatted it away, thin lips brushing light kisses below his navel, trousers meeting the tiled floor to a chorus of soft moans.

Boxers followed suit, his member a thick and throbbing tower now free of its restraints. Her apron remained the only article of clothing between the two. She reached behind her to undo the string holding it in place.

“Leave it on.”

His eyes were held prisoner by the words on the apron, the tips of her breasts pushing hard against the fabric. An unrestrained hunger grew deep within his core. A hand reached up, confining the small hardened knob between thumb and forefinger. He teased it, her sharp intake of breath his reward. Rising from the bed, he lifted her, thick fingers sinking into soft fleshy butt cheeks. Toned legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her back banging against the wall. The pain was sharp, mouth parting to let out a whimper. He saw the divide as an invitation, mounting an invasion, tongue slipping past ivory white teeth. She struggled to catch her breath, suspended just above his erection now wet from vertical lips.

Needing a second to breathe she gathered her strength, open palms placed against his shoulders. Before she could act he pulled back, breaking the kiss. Willowy arms moved quickly to his neck, head shifting to the side of his head, preparing to whisper into his ear, her body trembling from the intensity of it, pain and pleasure becoming indistinguishable. His waist shifted, her body falling a few centimeters lower, petite chin finding his shoulder before inches tore through her wet flower. Teeth found his shoulder as she stiffened a moan, arms clinging harder with each ridge he brushed past in his plunge. Words lost meaning, communication reduced to moans, cries, shivers and spasms.

The alarm clock at the side of the bed began to ring. Kunle looked, seeing it was 8:30 p.m.

“How long did I sleep?”

“A few minutes. There’s a change of clothes in the bathroom.”

He looked at her, curled up like a cat, apron skewed. He gave her breast a squeeze before heading to the bathroom. Ten minutes later he was out.

“Let me run to the store to pick up a few things.”

Kunle said, leaving the room. He checked to make sure the black nylon was on the stool before leaving through the door he had come in. Slipping into his Jeep, Kunle quickly sped off. As he drove, he kept an eye on the clock. Half an hour later Kunle stood in front of a white door. Lifting his shirt to his nose, he gave a quick sniff. Satisfied, he fumbled with his keys till the door popped open.

“Mommy! Mommy! Daddy is home!”

Two little girls separated from the woman holding them and ran to Kunle. He bent down, catching them in his arms before lifting the two girls high in the air. They giggled, both holding on to his neck and refusing to let go.

“Why are you so late daddy?”

“Daddy has a mean boss.”

“Tell him to stop being mean.”

“I will. What’s for dinner my little ones.”

“Mom was tired so she made indomie again.”

A frown appeared on Kunle’s face but was quickly replaced with a muted sigh.

“Who wants to fly to the kitchen?”

“Me!” the two little girls shouted, squealing in delight as they flew in their father's arms.

Hearing the door close, the woman still wearing the apron with “#1 wife” printed on it counted to twenty, got up from the bed and went to the stool beside the door. Picking up the black nylon, she emptied the contents on the floor as she looked at the many dishes on the table. Stacks of thousand naira notes landed in a small pile. She didn’t bother counting them. Kunle had proven to Madame he was a loyal patron.