Infernal Gray Ch. 05

Sherry slowly, and she hoped silently, turned the key in the lock. Click. She held her heels in her left hand as she opened the door, and crept through the dark living room, heading for the stairs.

A light flicked on. "So," said her mother. "How'd it go?"

Sherry froze. She had a good idea of what she must look like, heels in hand, one leg bent, the other on tiptoes as she'd been trying to reduce the chance of creaking the floor boards. Caught, she stopped, adopted what she hoped was a natural pose, and forced a smile. Her mother was sitting in the recliner where she often read books, right next to the light switch.

"Oh, hi Mom! I was trying not to wake you up."

"I could see that," Nicole said drily.

A good offense was the best defense, right? "Of course I didn't know you'd be lying in ambush."

"Ambush?" Nicole asked, with unconvincing innocence. "I just fell asleep on my book, that's all." She waved the latest thriller, a hardback from the library, as evidence.

"Uh-huh," Sherry said. "Well, goodnight Mom!"

"How'd it go?" Nicole asked.

Sherry turned. "Fine."

"How so fine?"

Sherry sighed. "Mom. I was at a club where people have sex. You know that, and I know that. Are you really asking your daughter if she got laid?"

Nicole blinked. "Um, yes?"

"Yes, then, I got laid by a very nice, very red, and very big - in all senses of the word - demon." Sherry watched her mother's expression, and decided that if she was going to be nosy, she deserved what she got. "Actually, technically, does it count as 'being laid' if you're on top? Because I straddled him and -"

"Got it," Nicole said, cutting her off. "No one mistreated you? That's what I was getting at."

"No one mistreated me Mom. I met a nice demon right off, and I think he kinda protected me."

Nicole smirked. Now what was that about, Sherry wondered. "Okay, sweetie. Goodnight."

Sherry turned to go up the stairs, eager to escape.

"Was that the same demon who you had sex with?" Nicole asked.

"Goodnight mom!" Sherry yelled, and kept going.

But that wasn't the end of it. The next morning, Nicole made waffles - Sherry's favorite. But the waffles came with more questions. What sort of horns did the demons have? Was sex with demons really as fantastic as people said? Sherry avoided giving names, but she couldn't help but let out that one of the demons was a talented artist, and she was actually going to show her portfolio to him on Tuesday. That, surely, was innocuous enough.

"Is he married?"

Sherry saw a chance to head off a line of thought, and she took it. "Yes. She was right there the whole time, never left his side really."

"Ah," Nicole said. Was that a sigh of relief? "Is she very pretty?"

Sherry considered. "I'd say she was very pretty. I mean, older, of course. She must be at least thirty!"

"Oh. Quite. Positively ancient."

"That is not what I said."

"Not with your words, perhaps. I take it the demon was similarly advanced in age."

Sherry shrugged. "I suppose so. There's something about older men, though, isn't there?"

Nicole chuckled. "Something about younger men, too - uh, never mind."

"Dad was a lot older than you."

"So he was. But you're just showing your portfolio, right, so what does that have to do with it?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." Sherry reached out and patted her mom on the hand. "And it's okay about the younger men. You're still pretty hot, Mom, and there's no reason you shouldn't be having fun. I just think neither of us needs to know the details about each other, right? I mean, whatever stories you have to tell about younger men, you'd rather keep them to yourself and not have me pry, right?"

"Right," Nicole said.

Sherry breathed a sigh of relief.

The relief lasted until Tuesday, when Sherry got in the car to go to Gray's. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, to avoid nosy questions from her mother, and she had her portfolio and a laptop on the passenger seat next to her. A lot of her stuff was digital. Her heart was pounding.

She had a deal she wanted to make with Gray. A deal with the devil? Maybe. She was sexually attracted to him, for sure. But she also wanted to become a better artist, and she was convinced that he could make her one. For that, she'd do anything. And if the anything happened to be pleasurable, well, that worked.

He might hate her work.

He might drive too hard a bargain or be uninterested in giving her all of what she wanted.

She'd been nervous on dates before. And nervous about showing her work to a respected professor. But this was all that, wrapped up in one, along with possibly the best or worst decision she'd made in her life.

Maybe she should have talked it all over with her mom, after all, but parents had a way of saying no to anything that involved a risk. She couldn't, in fact, think of anyone she could talk it over with. Model would understand one side of it, but of course she'd be very biased. None of the girls she knew at school, nor her professors, quite qualified either. She felt remarkably alone.

She took the laptop with her into the fast-food restaurant, as well as the bag of clothes she'd stashed in the trunk the day before. T-shirts and jeans might be right for leaving the house in, but they'd hardly do for what she had in mind. In the bathroom, she changed into a short purple dress, with just a bit of cleavage. More, if she leaned forward, because it was a little loose in front, without being shapeless. She applied lipstick. She changed out socks and tennis shoes for three-inch heels. She checked her hair in the mirror.

Then she hurried out and continued on her way.

He lived in a perfectly normal suburban neighborhood, not unlike the one she left: houses, lawns, cars parked in driveways and on the street. His house was normal, too, squarish and two-story, with a walkway made of concrete squares and a porch. Her heart was still pounding when she rang the doorbell. What did she have to offer? Her body. And if she didn't get what she wanted, was she really going to say no to sex with Gray? No. Sex in the club had been fantastic and amazing and she'd never came so hard in her life. She might not have a ton of experience, but it had been so much better that it seemed unlikely to her that anyone but an infernal could give her as good a time.

And he probably had girls throwing themselves at him regularly, anyway. There were plenty of beautiful girls in the club. It all came down to her art, really, which still had a long way to go. She wouldn't have the biggest tits or the brightest smile or the longest legs, but maybe, just maybe, he'd like her art.

The door opened, and she saw Model. The other girl was almost naked, with just a skimpy G-string on, and of course the collar. One arm held the door while the other crossed her chest. "Hi! Come right in! Quick so we don't give the neighbors too much of a show."

"Oh. Yes, of course."

Sherry walked in. An ordinary living room. A couple of landscapes on the wall. A sketch pad on the coffee table. A couch, a recliner.

"My Master is working," Model said. "I'll let him know you're here. He gets very focused, so it may be a bit until he reaches a break point." She indicated the couch. "Hopefully it won't be long."

Sherry nodded, and watched Model walk away without sitting down. Model had such a taut, firm ass, and her back was flawless. She made Sherry feel fat, even though she had been told a dozen times with words, and hundreds of times with stares, that her curves were pleasing. Still, if Model was Gray's type, well, Sherry wasn't Model.

She looked at the landscapes. They weren't what she expected, although they were fine examples of the type. In the corner, though, each had the distinctive signature, the one word: "Gray." Of course he hadn't learned to paint overnight, so he had to be painting something before the day when demons first appeared, less than two years ago.

She took a couple of steps, from which she could see the dining room, and another painting, although she could only see it sidelong. Still, it was more of the kind of work the world had come to associate with Grayson Harding, a picture of a woman lying on a table, naked, in sharp focus. Demons and beautiful women cavorted in the background, but it was clear that woman on the table was the point of it. The woman was recognizably Model, who appeared in so much of the recent work she had studied. Yeah, the athletically built woman was his type alright.

"He'll be out soon," Model said, coming from a hall to her left.

"No rush."

Model followed her gaze. "It's rather interesting, living in a house with a naked picture of oneself on constant display. But then, I rarely wear clothes here, either. And Gray and Betty don't have guests over that often." She paused. "I forgot, would you like a hug?"

"Sure, I could use one," said Sherry. It was a little odd feeling, with Model practically naked and all, but it was rather nice, too. She had felt comfortable with the slave girl immediately upon meeting her, and giving a two-girl blowjob together was a bonding experience. She let Model guide her to the couch, and they sat down.

"You're nervous," Model said. "He's kind of intimidating, isn't he?"

Sherry nodded.

"But he's nice, too. Sometimes I think he's too nice."

"Too nice?" Sherry echoed.

"Well, when he's strict, or selfish, I feel - well, extra owned. It's a lovely feeling, and maybe it's not for everyone." Model touched her collar. "But I didn't get this to be an equal, you know? And I'm not. Anyway, he's - I think we're both learning, what it means to be master and slave. And being with him is just wonderful."

Sherry smiled. "I'm glad," she said. But what if he doesn't like my art? Will he be too nice, and I'll just be left wondering?

"You want it, don't you?" Model asked.

"Hmm?"

"To be owned."

Sherry blinked. "Well," she said. "I might consider it."

Model's eyes twinkled. "It's not up to me, of course. But I'd love to have you as a sister. Betty's nice, but it's not the same, with her being free, and his wife, and me - well. I think he should have more than just me. And I think you are exactly what he needs."

"Me?" Sherry asked. "But you're so fit and, well."

"No sense in having two models exactly the same, is there?" Model said. "Seriously, I - well, I don't know what you know, but -"

"Hello, Sherry," said a deep voice.

It wasn't a demon standing there, but a man with blonde hair, jeans, and a faded black T-shirt. There were dabs of paint on the shirt and the jeans, and he looked to be in the late thirties. He was tall, and handsome, and closer to her mother's age than hers.

"Uh, hi."

He took in her look, and chuckled. "I don't walk around red and half-naked all day long, I'm afraid. You were expecting something else?"

"I wasn't thinking, I guess," Sherry said.

Model slid off the couch and took a spot on the floor, and Gray sat down in the spot which she vacated. "Did you have a good trip over here?" he asked.

"Fine," she said, aware that she often used the same one-word answer with her mom.

"Want anything to drink? Cocktail, soda, water?"

"A Coke, maybe?" she asked.

Gray glanced at Model, who immediately got up and headed out of the room.

"You're nervous," Gray said. "Don't be. You're an attractive young woman, and you're studying at a prestigious art school. You have talent or you wouldn't be there. You're about to show your work, the best work you've done, presumably. It's probably better than anything you did two years ago, isn't it?"

"Yes, I think so."

"And what you did two years ago impressed your teachers, and the school, right?"

"Right."

"So there's no point in being nervous. Show me."

She took a deep breath, and reached for the portfolio. "Some of it's on the computer. I do most of my work digitally, but these are some of the things I did in traditional media."

He nodded and gestured to the coffee table. She started taking things out and laying them in front of him. Model put a cola on a coaster on the near left corner of the table, and a water for Gray on the right, and then resumed her place on the floor.

"You did this after you did that," Gray said. "I can tell you developed your technique. You should take this one out of your portfolio."

"Oh. But it won a prize, and." She left the sentence unfinished.

"But you've gotten better since then." He set the prize-winner to the side, and she set out more pieces.

"Not your best media, I think," he said of a portrait in pastels, and set it with the prize-winner.

"A portfolio is supposed to show some range," she said.

"Some," he agreed. "You skipped over one. Let me see."

Sherry blushed. "Well, it's kind of embarrassing," she said.

Gray grinned.

"He likes embarrassed girls," Model said.

Come to think of it, while Gray's recent work was full of wanton behavior by women around demons, they did look more abashed than brazen. In any case, there was nothing she could do about it. She took out the piece she'd skipped, a watercolor and ink of a naked demon striding through a hellish landscape.

Gray coughed. "That's almost rather good, actually."

"Almost," Sherry echoed.

"Do you know what's not right about it?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I suppose it's all rather adolescent of me, isn't it?" She knew her face was turning red.

"That's a word, I suppose. One can tell that you were rather more interested in drawing some parts of the demon's anatomy than others."

And then she saw it. The detail of the big red cock, compared to everything else. Even the face seemed almost cartoony by comparison.

She turned redder.

"It shows talent," Gray said. "And you can learn." He put an arm around her, for a moment, before taking it away. It was avuncular rather than intimate. "Confidence! Show me the digital stuff."

She booted up her computer. The wait while it started was agonizing. Since she'd gone digital most of her work had been about demons, and a lot of it was imitative of Gray's own work.

Eventually, it booted up. She showed him some digital paintings she'd done, fine art kind of stuff. Demons and luscious ladies. A few demon women, too, with buff naked human men at their feet. God, one of them was just like a painting of Gray's but with a demon female instead of the demon male, and a man instead of a woman at her feet. She hoped he wouldn't notice that she'd copied the pose.

He chuckled when he saw it. "Looks familiar, somehow," he said, with an amused look in his eyes. He reached past her and clicked on a link.

"I - well, that stuff is just silliness, I didn't want to bother you with it," she said.

A comic strip she'd done appeared on the screen. More demons, with human women. It was done comic style, so the coloring was sharply defined, and the ink carried a lot of the form. He read it and clicked to the next one. And then the next one.

"You really don't have to," she said.

"You see this in every cartoonist's work. The first Peanuts, or the first Foxtrot strips, for instance. The first few are rough, and then the artist figures out what to leave in, what to leave out. And it's amazing how fast that progress happens. I can see it already with yours."

She wished she'd managed to leave it out of the whole presentation, but instead he was looking at the fourth strip, featuring a woman getting fucked in the ass while yelling that she was demon only for life. For the next half-hour she sat, beet red, while he read strip after strip of demon debauchery, with giant cocks that seemed to always be hard and large breasted women who were always willing.

"You enjoy doing these," he said.

"They are, well, just a nice thing to do on the side," she said. "Nothing serious. You needn't -"

"No," he said. "These are really good. Like I said, you enjoy them. It shows, just like I can tell you loved drawing that one penis. This is something you're passionate about."

"It's just -" she started. He wasn't wrong. They were her reward for getting through her assignments. She enjoyed the way comics told a story, even if it wasn't the most complicated of stories. "Yes. I suppose you're right. Silly of me, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Who cares? They're good."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I -"

"But they could be better."

She nodded. "Of course."

"If you want to show me your work now and then, I'll be glad to comment," he said. "I don't know that I have time for anything more than that."

She nodded. "That would be, well, very nice, and I'd be grateful of course, but - um."

"Um?"

"I have an offer to make."

He turned to face her, and just raised his eyebrows.

"God," said Sherry. "It sounded so straightforward, and now it seems so awkward."

"Maybe you should just say it."

"Well, the other night, that was amazing. I shouldn't tell you that, because, well, anyway, it was. There are two things I want in this world, now, where there was only one."

"Yes?"

"The most important one is that I just want to become the best artist I can. I love making art. Even if it's just those comics."

"Especially if it's those comics?"

"Maybe," she admitted.

"And what's the second thing?"

"I want more of what we did that other night, in the club."

He nodded. "I'm happy to fuck you, Sherry. Here, now."

She nodded. "I - yes. I mean, yes. But yes. Um, what I'm saying is - if you'll mentor me, I'll be yours. Anytime. Anyplace."

Gray's smile reached his eyes. "So if I help you with the first thing you want, in return I get to help you with the second thing?"

"Yes. No. I'm putting this badly," Sherry said. She pointed to Model. "Like her. Yours. Collared. Just as long as I can keep learning to be the best artist I can be."

"You want to be my slave?"

"Yes. I mean, I will. If you will help me with the rest."

"What if I told you to stop doing those comics you call silly."

"Then -" Sherry took a breath. "Then I'd probably try to do them in secret, and when you caught me I suppose you'd shock me. And of course you'd catch me because of the camera in the collar."

"You've done your research."

"Yes."

"And you're telling me right now that you'd disobey me and do the comics anyway."

"Did you want me to lie?"

He shook his head, and chuckled. "No, I don't want you to lie. And good, because they're some of your best work."

Sherry stood up. It was now or never. She reached behind herself and unzipped her dress, then pulled it down, uncovering first her breasts, and then shimmying it down over her hips until she wore nothing but her heels.

Gray stood up, but didn't approach her. "It's complicated, in ways you may not know about. Did you know I knew your mother?"

Sherry blinked. "You what? No, she never told me! She - wait." Sherry ran through the events of the night at the club. Gray had come right up to her. She thought it was chance, but it could have been that he sought her out. And then her mother kept asking questions, trying to find out what demon did what to her. And she'd mentioned that the one guy was an artist - of course her mom had put two and two together.

Gray just stood there, letting her process.

"So you don't want me, then," Sherry said. "Because of her."

"No. It might be worse than that. I might want you because of her. And even then there's the question of why that's true. It's complicated, and I need to think. And maybe make a phone call. But Sherry, I am not saying no. I, too, want two things right now, even if, well, like you, my art comes first. One is that I want to grab you and enjoy that luscious body of yours. The other is that I want to drive you to the Ruritanian embassy and make you mine. The first - well, that might happen today. The second, we're going to wait on until we both know everything we need to know. For now - will you wait here, with Model?"

There was hope. She felt so silly standing there naked. But he wanted her. That was the main thing. He wanted her. "Yes, Sir," she said.

"You two can - play if you want. Or just talk. It's up to you." Gray glanced between them. "Two beautiful naked women."

"And," came a voice from the stairs. "A third beautiful woman. At least I hope you still think so. Although not naked. I can be, to complete the set."

Sherry turned and saw Betty, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts.

Gray turned and smiled at her. "A third beautiful woman, for sure. And as to the naked, I - well, that would be lovely, but I think maybe I need to take a walk, and talk to you as well, so maybe it's best if you keep your clothes on."

"I'll tell you what I have to say about it now," Betty said. "Collar her. Take her. I heard enough to know that, and I know it's what you want. So do it."

"I have to think first," he said.

Betty chuckled. "You're not going to ask permission, are you? Don't you think it would be better as a fait accompli?"

"No," Gray said. "I'm not going to ask you per - oh, I see. No."

"Good. I like it when my husband takes what he wants, and I'm not much for anyone who gets in the way."

Sherry looked between the two of them. I know it's what you want, his wife said. Did he, really? Did Betty know? She felt her pussy getting wet at the thought of him wanting her, and of him taking what he wanted. She knew the story she'd draw in a comic. He'd take her over his shoulder and carry her naked to the car. Maybe he'd put her in the trunk and drive her to the embassy.

She got on the floor next to Model and looked up at Gray. He looked over at her, and his breath caught for a moment. She smiled at him boldly, and he stared for a long moment before whirling and walking out the front door.

Betty sat down on the couch, near the two girls. "Don't worry, Sherry. I know my husband." She glanced between Sherry and Model. "Both so young and so beautiful."

"You don't mind?" Sherry asked.

"Oh, Betty said. "Sometimes I do. I get jealous. Sometimes I even want a collar for myself, but you know - I had him to myself for a while. And he wore me out. And he still does, even with Model to fuck. Sometimes she walks around looking pretty sore, too, after trying in vain to sate his lust. I think he needs at least three women. Probably four or five. Maybe it ends with you, but I doubt it. It would be lovely if one-night flings at Inferno did it for him, but he's not built that way."

Sherry hadn't thought much about that. "And I'll be off at college."

"Yes," Betty said. "I suppose so. Then it definitely won't end with you. Anyway, I wanted you to know that you are welcome in our little family, as far as I'm concerned. Even though - well, never mind." She stood up.

"Even though what?" Sherry asked.

"Even though I suspect he'll fall in love with you." Betty shrugged. "It's his way, but at the same time, you're special. And weirdly, that thought kind of turns me on. I'm a mixed-up woman, in some ways." With that, she got up, and walked up the stairs.

Sherry looked at Model, but Model just shrugged.

"Wanna make out?" Model asked.

Sherry had done some experimentation in college, and was far from opposed to the idea. "I suppose he kind of hinted he wouldn't mind coming back to that, didn't he?"

"He did," Model said.

Sherry leaned forward and kissed her. Model kissed back, prolonging the kiss.

"He can see through the camera in his collar, if he wants, can't he?" Sherry asked, looking at the collar. Property of Grayson Harding was etched on it, so subtle one had to look closely to read it. Sherry was jealous of it.

"He can," Model said. "Shall we give him something to watch?"

Sherry nodded. There was no sense in holding back, now that she'd laid everything on the table.

She had her tongue in Model's mouth and her hands all over her breasts when her phone buzzed. Was that Gray? She grabbed for it.

It was a text from her mom. "It's all true," it said. "I'm so sorry."

"What the fuck?" Sherry asked.

"What is it?" Model said, putting her arm around the other girl.

Sherry showed her. "Can you possibly get more cryptic?"

And then Gray opened the door, walked in, and sat in the big chair.

"I can't possibly accept your offer, unless you know all the facts. And you can say no to that, although of course you don't know what you're saying no to."

"And of course I want you to accept my offer," Sherry said, "or I wouldn't have made it. I got a weird text from my mom."

Gray reached out his hand. "You might as well get used to having no secrets, if you really want to do this."

"I guess that's true," Sherry said, and handed him the phone. He looked, and nodded.

"I told her I was going to tell you, you see. It's like this. Years ago - I guess it started when I was a few years older than you are now. Anyway, I met Nicole in a bar, and we hit it off. I took her to my place, we had a good time." He shrugged. "Sorry you have to hear all this, but I can't let you make a commitment without knowing a bit how it all happened. She wasn't wearing a ring, and she didn't tell me she was married."

"Mom cheated on Dad?"

Gray nodded.

"Dad was kind of a prick, honestly," Sherry said. "My first thought is, good for her!"

Gray chuckled. "I got that feeling - well, that's neither here nor there. Anyway, we continued to see each other. It was a weird relationship, and after a while I started to suspect something was up, because Nicole was skittish about being seen in public. Finally she told me she was separated, in the process of getting a divorce, that she couldn't afford to be seen with me until the divorce was final, etc."

"My parents never separated," Sherry said, trying to search her memory in case she'd missed something like that. But of course she hadn't.

"No, they didn't."

"She was lying," Sherry said.

"She was lying. Then, when that lie didn't work anymore, she told me about you, and how she couldn't get a divorce because of you. By that time - well, I was in love, madly in love with Nicole. And madly was a good term for it, I can see that now. I should have said enough then, but I didn't. That was my fault. She told me she loved me, and I put all my faith in that, as if it was the one important thing in the world. I was young and stupid. Emphasis on stupid."

"She's a sexy woman," Sherry said. "Still is, and I imagine back then -"

"She looked a lot like you," Gray pointed out. "That was why I spotted you in the club so easily."

"Oh."

"Anyway, I kept pushing, and at some point, she looked me in the eye, and said, 'I love you, and so I'm breaking up with you,' and walked away. And that was the last time I spoke to her, until Friday night when she called me up to ask me to look after you while you were at the club."

"Well," Sherry said. "You did that."

"I did a little more than that."

"Did she tell you not to?"

Gray shook his head. "No, she didn't tell me not to. She hinted that I might enjoy using you as a model. Anyway, there it is. I called her just now, to let her know I was going to tell you, and why."

"Not to ask for her permission."

"No."

"You told her I'd offered to be your slave?"

"I used the word 'collar,' so yeah, I got the idea across."

"Well," Sherry said. "She could be texting me right now to tell me not to do it, and she isn't."

Gray shrugged. "I can't start worrying about what she wants. That wasn't the point. I just wanted to give her a chance to give you her side of the story first, if she wanted to. I felt I owed - no, owed is the wrong word, because I don't owe her anything. I felt it was the right thing to do."

Sherry nodded. "It's a lot to take in, I had no idea. You and mom, huh? But she's so old!"

"I think just five years or so older than me, actually."

Sherry supposed that was right. And that it was sexist to think of a woman of forty-two as 'so old' and to think of a thirty-seven year-old man as wise and somehow extra sexy because of it. But no, one's parents were old no matter what their ages, and Gray was sexy no matter what his age. Not to mention that he was a demon. Being so virile was sexy at any age.

She had almost forgot she was naked, and the fact came back to her with a vengeance. She started to move her arms to cover herself up and then stopped herself. He was looking at her, thoughtfully.

"Sir, I have a question. Or maybe more than one."

"Go ahead. You should be asking lots of questions, especially if you're still considering offering to wear my collar."

"Were you pretending that I was Mom, when you were, um, you know.?

"No."

"Were you getting revenge on her?"

Gray shrugged. "I wish I could tell you. Emotions are complicated. Maybe a little of that. Maybe I was also doing her one last favor, because it was me or someone else, I guessed. Was I right, Sherry?"

"I guess you were. Not very flattering, maybe, but I was horny. Heck, if you turned me down, I might have been a bit motivated by revenge, myself."

He chuckled. "Most of it was just that you are a very sexy girl, and I wanted you. I told you that you look a bit like your mom, but that doesn't mean you're a stand in. I think everyone has a type, or types, rather. I'm still attracted to the same things I was back then. Is it a bit weird for me, when I catch the resemblance? It is. But I want you, Sherry. Not a stand in. And not for revenge. I took a walk partly because I wanted to check myself, and that's not it."

"But why me? There are a lot of pretty girls."

"But you have talent."

Talent. He'd looked at her art, and he'd liked it. Even the comics. Especially the comics. She wanted him to like her body, sure, but liking her art was appreciating her soul.

She glanced over at Model, who was kneeling, knees apart, back arched, chest forward, hands on her knees, exposed to her master. She'd seen paintings where Model was drawn just like that, and so she imitated the pose, and looked up at Gray. "My offer stands," she said. "My body, and my soul, are yours if you will promise to nurture them."

"I want you to think about it longer," Gray said.

"That's your choice," Sherry said. "My answer will be the same."

Gray smiled. "But I want to fuck you now."

Sherry grinned. "That's your choice, too. I think you'll find me very ready for you." In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if she was dripping on the floor.

"Master," Model said. "May I suggest you use the room that I sleep in?"

"You may," Gray said. He got up, and picked Sherry up from the floor, and carried her to a bedroom on the ground floor. The queen-sized bed there was made up with pink sheets, and there was a stack of dumbbells and a rolled-up yoga mat in one corner, two bookcases, and a small desk. Gray laid her on the bed, and Model came in behind them, kneeling on the floor nearby.

She watched as he took his shirt off, and Model untied his shoes. He unzipped his pants, and Model took off his socks. Once he was naked, she folded his clothes neatly and put them on the chair next to the desk.

It was strange, having an audience. In the club, it felt natural, the way everything was there, but Model didn't have to be in the room. Indeed, she seemed to be trying to be inobtrusive. Yet there she was, and the camera in her collar was presumably recording it all.

Yet it felt right, too. This wasn't a romance of equals, even if it was a romantic to Sherry as anything she'd ever thought about, or drawn. Model was his slave, Sherry would be his slave, and at some point she might be kneeling by a bed watching him with another woman. She might even be drawing it.

He transformed into a demon, getting larger, redder, sprouting horns and a tail. Then he climbed up on the bed, and she spread her legs. She reached for his cock, stroking it to full hardness, and guided it to her wet and waiting pussy.

"There is such a thing as foreplay, you know," he said.

"Yes." She grinned at him. "When you collar me, you can make me suffer through it, if you like. What I want is for you to take what you want." She remembered Betty saying something quite like that.

He slid inside her. Wet as she was, he still had to push forward, an inch at a time. He pressed his lips to hers, and she kissed him back with raw, animal hunger while her pussy stretched to accommodate him.

His touch on her neck reminded her of the collar she expected him to fasten on her, and made her cum, the first of many. She had two more orgasms before he let loose inside her, triggering a fourth. Then he cuddled her while Model sucked him back to hardness, which took about a minute, and they started all over again.

The third time, she gave him a blowjob, to give her pussy a break.

The fifth time he entered her, she offered her ass to him, for the same reason, even though she wasn't sure his big red cock would fit. Model, helpfully and efficiently, lubed her up. He stretched her and filled her beyond what she could imagine, but she was so hopped up on demonol that just made her cum again, so that he had to stop for a moment because her ass squeezed him so tightly. Finally, he found a moment that she wasn't cumming and drove his cock the rest of the way home.

She lost track of how many times she came before she fell asleep in his arms.

She woke up cuddled with Model and heard bedsprings creaking upstairs. Model giggled at her expression. "He's insatiable," she said.

"Apparently," Sherry said, amazed.

"Also, fucking you turned him on."

Sherry smiled. "Hopefully I'm a keeper, then."

Model nodded. "I hope so, too. I don't get a vote, but - I'd vote for you."

Sherry suspected that Model did, in fact, get a vote, even if Gray's vote was always the deciding one. But she understood the other girl's desire to pretend she didn't. "What time is it?"

Model pointed to a clock. "Five-thirty. We can sleep in. I try to wake Gray up with a blowjob at eight."

"My mom must be worried out of her mind!" Sherry said. "I better be going."

Model shrugged. "Well, I'll help you get things put together, then."

They gathered up Sherry's portfolio, and Sherry got her clothes back on, and her laptop. Model got her an energy drink for the road, and then Sherry headed out.

She didn't bother to change her clothes at a fast-food place, this time. It probably would have been a good idea to have gotten a shower, but that ship had sailed. She was aware of cum on her thighs. She could still taste his clovey goodness in her mouth, even. On the road, she thought about what he'd told her about her mom. It was weird, but she understood it, kinda. Her Mom and Dad had never been lovey-dovey. Looking back, she remembered a lot of times when one of them was unexpectedly out late or held up at work. She wasn't innocent of it anymore, but then, she wasn't really innocent at all, after the night she'd had.

She didn't bother taking her shoes off or being careful with the lock. She flipped the light on, and was amused as Nicole startled awake in the chair, the book on her chest dropping to the floor as she bolted upright.

"Hi Mom," Sherry said.

"Do you hate me?" Nicole asked.

"Never, Mom. I love you. Do you -"

"Never, Sherry. I love you too." Nicole got up and wrapped her arms around Sherry. "You smell like cloves."

"The ham was so - um, yes, Mom, I smell like him." She didn't figure the lie would work, and anyway, after what she'd learned it felt silly to hide anything.

"Is he good to you?" Nicole asked.

"Very."

"Are you going to wear his collar?"

"I hope so."

"Okay, dear. You look like you could use some sleep."

"I got a little."

"You also could use a shower."

"Yes."

"Is it weird that -"

'Very."

"Okay. Goodnight, Sherry."

"Goodnight Mom."

Sherry walked up toward the stairs and then stopped. "Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I hope you're not jealous?" Sherry made it a question.

"Of course I am. But you know I always want the best for you, and Gray is the best. I almost --"

"Almost what?"

"Almost divorced your father to marry him."

"Well, that would have been really weird."

"Hmm?"

"Then he'd be my stepfather."

"Uh, yes. Goodnight, Sherry." Her mom's voice had a touch of finality to it, which Sherry, by instinct, accepted.

"Goodnight, Mom."

She didn't want to shower Gray's scent off her, so she ran the water for a bit while she heard her Mom go to bed. Then she climbed into her own bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. Slowly, she smiled. Yeah, it was weird. But she felt confident - just like Gray had told her she should be. She touched her neck, where he had touched it and where a collar would go, and then fell peacefully asleep and slept until noon.