Lindsay Anastacio drifted out of a twenty-minute nap somewhere along Utah State Route 142 on the way home to Salt Lake City. The nineteen-year-old opened her eyes and nestled even deeper upon the powerful, masculine arm that she’d been holding on to while dozing. “Hmm, where are we?” She scrunched her face and yawned.
“About to enter Falls Church and merge onto Interstate 15. Still have an hour to go, maybe a bit longer, so sit back and relax.” At the helm of his 2019 Lamborghini Huracán EVO Spyder convertible and concentrating on the road in front of him, Sammy still took time to lean over and plant a quick-hitting kiss on Lindsay’s cheek. He trailed his fingertip, light as a feather, down her cheek and gave it a playful tickle. “Did you have a good snooze, babygirl?”
“Yes, I did.” Sammy had varying, complex layers to his personality, but when he was soft-spoken and considerate, it never failed to warm Lindsay to her core. At times, he’s like a big, cuddly grandpa, and I want to sit in his lap and cuddle and love on him forever! “Oh, I’m just so tired. These two days were so much fun, and I thank you for it, but it’s been a crazy week. Everything, I think, has caught up to me.” She gulped her throat. “And it’s about to get crazier starting tomorrow.”
At Sammy’s urging, Lindsay toured the campuses of Westminster College and The University of Utah in Salt Lake City this past Thursday. She was planning visits to other nearby schools too. Sammy had been stressing how a college education would benefit her later in life since they became an item almost a year ago.
He wanted her to find a university she felt comfortable with and begin taking classes there in the fall. Therefore, Lindsay was in the process of looking at campuses in the greater Salt Lake area and had an eye on majoring in Sociology. Granted, her grades weren’t the best in high school, but Sammy was going to see to it that she applied herself from this point forward and, in short order, become a top-notch student. He expects a perfect GPA and says I’ll get severely punished for anything less.
“I’m not a spring chicken anymore,” the fifty-nine-year-old often reminded her. “I won’t be around to provide for you forever.”
Down the road, Lindsay envisioned herself as either a counselor, sales representative, or financial manager. Sociology was a solid foundation for all three. Daddy can get me a job where he works too. He is the CEO, after all!
The duo was returning to Salt Lake City from a two-day hiking trip at Mount Naomi, the highest peak in the Bear River Mountains of northern Utah and southern Idaho. This morning, Lindsay and Sammy took High Creek Ridge Trail up to High Creek Lake, a strenuous, exhausting, six-hour hike that tested Sammy’s endurance. Famous for its melting glaciers, carved valleys, alpine meadows, and spectacular lakes, Mount Naomi was a postcard of life: wild horses, wolves, bears, mountain lions, moose, and elk, among many other creatures, patrolled the countryside.
Located northwest of Logan, Utah in Wasatch-Cache National Forest, Mount Naomi ascended to 9,983 feet, and was yet another outdoor adventure Lindsay was able to check off her to-do list.
“Don’t think I’ve ever told you this before, but I went to high school right here in Falls Church.” Sammy cocked his head to the side and grinned. “This is where I grew up.”
Lindsay gazed his way with a sudden focus and waited for the story to continue.
“Graduated from Bear River Valley High in 1977. Our football team lost the state semi-finals when I was a junior in eight inches of snow. That was crazy … never forget that night. I was the quarterback. One of my teammates went on to the NFL and had a long and successful career. Great guy.” Sammy’s left hand tightened its grip on the steering wheel. “Wow … high school. Those were the days.” His lips twitched. “Where did all those years go?”
Lindsay poked his ribs and even made him squirm. The sight made her chuckle. “I bet you had all the girls beating down your door back then as the big, star quarterback! I could so see you as a jock.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped both arms around them, and offered a slow smile that continued building. “You had your pick of any girl in the school, didn’t you?”
Sammy shrugged and twirled his head. “I wouldn’t go that far, but yes, I had quite a few girlfriends when I was younger. And I didn’t even have to pay for them.” He’d asked Barbara to the prom as a senior and married her twelve months later. Of course, fast-forward four decades, and Barbara was Sammy’s biggest regret, but he was trying to pick up the pieces and enjoy the latter stages of his life with this perfect blend of sugar and spice beside him. Still, the divorce was brutal, and splintered his family. Of his four children, Carolyn was the only one he was still on speaking terms with.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Concern marring her features, Lindsay ran a finger through his weathered, thinning hair.
“Nothing.” Sammy grid his teeth into a smile. “Nothing at all.”
“Okay.” Lindsay didn’t believe him, but knew it was pointless to try to coax out any further answers. Sammy could be stubborn, and she was still learning how to deal with all his little quirks. “If you and I went to high school together, you wouldn’t have dated any other girls but me.” She leaned back and relaxed with a friskiness in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have permitted it. You would’ve belonged to me, and no one else. You would be my dick.”
Sammy made a face. “I wouldn’t be permitted to date other girls, but I’m sure you’d still be able to, right? Especially if Mariko or Becky were around?”
“You know it! I’d be one of those gals who cucks her boyfriend or husband – you – and goes out on hot, steamy dates with my girlfriends, spends the night fucking them, and doesn’t come home until the morning.” Lindsay nearly choked over contained laughter. “You’d be one of those guys who stays home, does all the cooking and cleaning, all the housework, and you’d be required to lick my pussy on a moment’s notice.” A wild laugh finally burst from her mouth. “I’d make you wear a collar too!”
Sammy’s finger tapped the wheel as he glared over, the chords in his neck tense. “I’d be your lap dog, huh? Have to go down on you whenever you want?” He shook his head but gave in to the teasing. For now. “Maybe I could live with that.” His hand trailed along Lindsay’s inner thigh. “I’ve always liked things that come in small packages.”
Lindsay’s eyes flashed toward his crotch and her voice was full of just the right amount of snark. “That’s funny, because I prefer big packages.” She tipped her head back, her face to the sky. “Oh, I guess you’d be allowed to fuck my girlfriends too. I’m not the greedy type.”
“Gee, thanks.” His tone was laced with sarcasm. “You’re turning into a little comedian, aren’t you? How cute. Would you like some advice, babygirl?”
“Don’t quit your day job.”
Lindsay’s tongue ran a slow trail between her lips. “And what exactly is my day job, Mr. Steele?”
His eyebrows danced. “You know what it is. Personal. Executive. Trainee. You’re my assistant.”
“Pet, P-E-T. Yeah, got it.” Another smile traversed her lips. “Haha, you’re a riot too.”
“Let’s be blunt, shall we, little one? No need to beat around the bush or for you to speak out of line anymore, or tease me, even disrespect me.” Sammy’s tone darkened considerably. “You’re a cocksucker, Lindsay. You’re my cocksucker … you belong to me. We may be engaged now, and getting married in December, but you’re still a twenty thousand dollar a week cocksucker and you live in the lap of luxury because of it.” How many women would trade places with Lindsay in a heartbeat? A generous weekly stipend and unlimited use of Sammy’s credit cards? A brand-new BMW convertible? An all-expenses paid trip through college? “And don’t you dare fucking forget it.” In the brothel industry alone, Sammy figured, ninety percent of the prostitutes would literally offer life and limb if they could be in Lindsay’s shoes.
“Hmmmmm. Such a sweet-talker, Daddy. So smooth. But I cannot argue or disagree with you.” Lindsay closed her eyes and sank deeper in the passenger seat. “I’m a cocksucker. And a damn good one too.”
Even though he was on a week-long vacation from Gradiph Pharmaceuticals, Sammy still filed some electronic paperwork from the chalet at Mount Naomi this morning, fielded telephone calls, and had a video conference. Unfortunately, his duties as CEO never went on vacation too.
At the same time, Lindsay was perched on her knees underneath the desk and keeping up with her own workplace responsibilities.
“Just keep suckin’, darlin’. Don’t stop until I tell you to. Yeah, real nice and slow. Nice and slow. Take your time and make it last. That mouth of yours is like a pussy and, without question, it’s the best investment I’ve ever made. Now keep the noise down – don’t say anything – as I talk with my chief investment officer. Just. Keep. Sucking. Remember to worship my balls too. You know I like that.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.
Lindsay had settled into the role of submissive sugar baby; a bed girl stuffed with dick, made to please her owner so shamefully. She put her right hand down, then her left, and was on her hands and knees underneath the desk, her golden locks bobbing sweetly with the motion of her head, her mouth cherishing Sammy’s dick as if it were the greatest gift she’d ever received.
“Did I tell you to stop sucking?” At one point, Sammy glared down with evil intentions when she borrowed a few seconds to catch her breath. “Put that dick back in your mouth where it belongs!” He leaned over and smacked the side of her bare hip with an open palm. “If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you to stop.”
“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, please, don’t be angry with me. Please. …”
In the vehicle, silence reigned amongst them for several seconds.
* * *
Sammy turned his head and snuck a peak at Lindsay’s taut, little hips in her stonewashed denim shorts once she reached into her purse and fished out her smartphone. It was a brand-new Samsung Galaxy S10 Plus – perhaps the hottest, most preeminent mobile device on the market at the time – and like so many of Lindsay’s current worldly possessions, Sammy was the one who purchased it.
His eyes drifted upward and focused on her breasts for a split-second, concealed by a Los Angeles Dodgers’ blue hoodie. Another worthwhile investment. This past March, Sammy convinced Lindsay to undergo breast augmentation surgery, with 540cc of silicone injected into each breast, upgrading her from a 32b bust size to 34d. She’s the perfect fuckdoll now … not even one hundred pounds soaking wet yet a full D cup. Just total Goddamn perfection.
Though the procedure cost $8,000, it was a small price to pay. I think I’m gonna put my dick between those massive jugs when we get home and go to town again. She’d gotten a second tattoo, too – a flower wrap around her left ankle to compliment the butterfly on her abdomen. The ink gives her a hard edge; it’s sexy as fuck, and she’s getting more soon. I’m gonna see to it.
Sammy returned his gaze to the road as Lindsay swiped her phone and began tapping away. Still, he kept stealing glances. It’s so damn satisfying to have a chick this young ready to serve my lusts. Like a mad scientist, Sammy was slowly but surely molding Lindsay into his ideal vision for a woman. She’s coming along, but still needs some wholesale changes. For anyone who claimed money couldn’t buy happiness, Sammy had a simple three-word response: you’re fucking nuts.
I think I want her pregnant by the time our wedding rolls around in December too. However, it wouldn’t be a regular wedding. Perhaps I should gather up three or four of my friends, like I did a few weeks ago, and we could all take turns fucking her in the bridal suite. Could Lindsay, who thrived on cock like no one Sammy had ever known, ask for a more memorable wedding night? She took all five of our dicks at once without breaking a sweat and left us in a broken heap, saying, is that all you got?
Tomorrow, the bitch takes another step in her ongoing training.
“You texting again?”
“I am. Becky just texted me.” Lindsay purred as Sammy squeezed her thigh this time and a slow, lazy grin overtook her lips. “Always good to hear from her.”
A former client, Becky Watson visited Happy Ending Ranch in July 2018 and partied with Lindsay for several hours over two different nights. Lindsay and Becky shared a genuine, legitimate connection when together – similar to the mutual attraction Lindsay and Sammy experienced the night they had their initial party as well – and had since struck up a relationship outside the house.
Unfortunately, Becky lived all the way across the country in Rhode Island. Her marriage with Nick had fallen on hard times since their ill-fated trip to Nevada, and they were now officially separated.
“Are you and Sammy still on the road?” Lindsay read the text from Becky out loud. “If so, when you get home and have a moment, send me another picture of your beautiful titties.”
Sammy’s eyes widened. “No reason you can’t do that now. We’re on an open highway in Falls Church on a Monday evening. It’s not like there’s a ton of traffic.” His lips curved upward. “What did you text her in return?”
Lindsay tilted her head back-and-forth and again recited verbatim, “Your tongue has been on my mind all day. And whenever I think of it and remember how you went down on me and made me squirt and splash and come like a leaky sieve, I can’t stop touching myself. I get wet every single time and had to change my panties earlier today because of you.”
Lindsay paused, giggled, and took a deep breath.
“True story too. I wasn’t embellishing anything. Then, I sent her another text. What would you do to me if I showed up at your house tonight in nothing but a G-string, heels, and a large coat?” She smirked. “Waiting for a response.”
Sammy swallowed over the lump in his throat. “That’s … quite a pair of texts.” And now, his dick was hard.
With her marriage to Nick in shambles, Lindsay finally convinced Becky to come to Utah a month ago so they could be together again. But unlike last year, Becky didn’t have to pay a cent as Lindsay promised not to charge her. In fact, it was the other way around. Sammy gifted Becky $20,000 in cash, a huge help in paying her bills, and when she and Lindsay weren’t fucking like two crazed lesbian hellcats, well, Sammy was fucking both of them.
At the same time.
Becky is a fine piece of pussy, no doubt, and has a tight ass, but she’s too old for me. Still, Sammy floated around the idea of the thirty-six-year-old leaving Rhode Island altogether, moving to Utah permanently, and settling down with him and Lindsay. I know how special Becky is to Lindsay, and I need to keep her happy. Sammy even told Becky she wouldn’t have to get a job unless she wanted to. I’d take care of her, too, and make her my plaything. She’s old … but whatever. Yet the arrangement, the transaction, had to be a two-way street.
While tempting – especially the thought of being with Lindsay full-time, not to mention bailing on her dead-end job – Becky balked at the idea of moving in with a man pushing sixty. Plus, she had a pair of teenaged children back home and didn’t want to leave them behind.
But when they got older and ventured out on their own, she may change her tune.
“So, is this Becky chick your ideal woman? The one, out of all the girls, you wish you could be with?” Sammy merged over to the left lane and passed a slow-moving driver. “I know she’s old enough to be your mom and that thought alone turns you on.” If I’m not mistaken, I believe her daughter just turned seventeen a week ago. “She’s fit, she’s blonde, she’s an all-out MILF.”
“Becky is right up there with Mariko and Pamela in my book, for sure. I could make a case for all three of them, and for different reasons. It’s very close. You remember, I’m sure, how much I cried when Becky went home to Rhode Island. I didn’t want her to leave.” If Lindsay had her way, she’d rescue Becky from an unfulfilling life and the two ladies, along with Sammy, would travel the world and have copious amounts of sex.
“And you don’t want anything to do with Amy, right?”
“Amy? Scarlett, you mean? Scarlett from Happy Ending Ranch?” Lindsay’s nose quivered. “No. No way. She’s so fake; everything about her disgusts me.”
“Fair enough. I know you don’t think too highly of Amy. You never have. I still like her though. That’s why I keep bringing her back.” I need reinforcements; it’s getting tough to keep up with this chick. Sammy wanted to devote himself to Lindsay and this forbidden relationship, fully and without reservations, but also understood they’d never have the typical marriage with three kids, a house in the suburbs, and a white picket fence.
It's impossible to turn a hoe into a housewife.
Sammy realized that Lindsay was a nymphomaniac – her sex drive is twice as powerful as mine, and that’s saying something – and for her to embrace the idea of and settle into a marriage (and stay committed to it for any length of time), she’d need plenty of action on the side too.
I’m trying, dammit. Inviting Becky to stay with them for an entire week, for example, multiple illegal “house calls” from Scarlett, Mariko, Sahara, and Riley, the five-on-one gang-bang with friends from work and giving Lindsay as much of his dick as he humanly could. But it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. I’m only one man, not an army.
Sammy knew there was going to come a day – perhaps soon – when Lindsay says that she wants to go back to the brothel for another tour or two. She took twenty-eight dicks over those three weeks last year and wears that fact like a badge of honor now. Indeed, Lindsay loved sex. Craves it. Sammy believed that returning to a whorehouse, though he preferred it not be Happy Ending Ranch, would make Lindsay happier than anything right now.
Even happier than being with him.
She’s a slut; she needs that fix again, and I’m okay with that. I’m a big boy, I’m secure. I know what I signed up for in asking a teenaged whore to marry me. There was no way Sammy could expect Lindsay to be faithful and monogamous, right? Submissive or not, he feared she’d be fucking others behind his back in due time unless he allowed her to spread her wings, so to speak, and fly free. Just like that butterfly on her tummy.
Lindsay is happy with me, I know, and there’s no way she walks away from the money I’m paying her. Still, Sammy understood that for a girl like this, there would always be more out there. Even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
… I just want her to be happy.
I gotta give Lindsay the space she wants, the space she needs, and be willing to step away when necessary. Thus, he’d made all the arrangements himself, and insisted she board a flight from Salt Lake City to Phoenix, Arizona in the morning. Tomorrow, she becomes independent … a prostitute for hire outside the legality of a Nevada brothel.
I never thought I’d pimp a girl out, but here I am. …
Sammy retrieved a joint from his pocket and popped it out of the tube. He placed it between his lips and produced a lighter. It sparked, but no flame came out. “Goddammit.”
“Here.” Lindsay covered the lighter with her left hand and it worked. “Don’t forget to share.”
“Thanks.” Sammy took a hit and passed it over.
She inhaled and immediately started coughing. “Whoa, this weed is strong … it’s different. What type is it?”
“It’s called Skywalker. It’s good shit, isn’t it?”
Lindsay took a second hit and her head vibrated. “Yeah.”
Among the countless transformations she had undergone in the past year, Lindsay was a regular blazer now, having resorted to smoking marijuana on Christmas Day. The euphoric high, the head rush, followed by a slow, steady, and relaxing calm, proved to be the perfect elixir to deal with the aftermath of Evie’s suicide. Without cannabis, and her newfound, sudden addiction to alcohol (particularly Modelo beer), Lindsay didn’t know if she would’ve survived that horrific saga.
I like getting her high, getting her drunk too. Everything about Lindsay and her personality became amplified tenfold, and she was even more of a maniac in the bedroom when under the influence. It’s so fucking adorable when she starts slurring and waddles around like a duck. On Friday night, Lindsay didn’t even put up a protest when Sammy thrust his dick into her mouth and emptied his bladder. The dumb cunt doesn’t even remember it happening!
* * *
After a few additional moments of comfortable silence in the convertible, Lindsay leaned over and kissed Sammy’s cheek. “I love you, Daddy! I love my Daddy so much.” She settled back into her seat and curled a leg beneath her, her head propped against the headrest and turned to the left so she could focus on him. “You sure you don’t want me to drive for a bit? You said your back was bothering you earlier. It might be best that you be the one to kick back and relax. Don’t worry, Daddy, I know my way back to Salt Lake since we’re on the interstate now.”
“Thanks, little one, but I’m fine. Back is fine too. I can nap later tonight once we get home and settle in. That is, after I fuck you again.”
Lindsay squirmed and giggled like an excited schoolgirl. An animated (and exaggerated) reaction, for sure, but she was relaxed and having fun. Her timid, submissive alter ego would only come out when called upon. Sammy enjoyed her happy-go-lucky attitude way too much to suppress it one hundred percent of the time.
“Are you looking forward to your trip tomorrow?”
She grimaced and knitted her eyebrows. “I still don’t know if I should go through with that or not.”
“What? What are you worried about?” Sammy rubbed a hand on his pants leg. “How many times do I have to tell you? There’s nothing to worry about. I don’t see why you’re so uptight about doing something people do thousands of times a day across the country, across the whole world, even. Gotta go out and live a little, babygirl. This is what girls like you do.” He reached over and put a hand on her knee. “I won’t be around forever.”
What if I get caught? Arrested? Lindsay took a long, hard hit from the joint and frowned.
Several months ago, Sammy struck up an e-mail and chat correspondence with Tony Dinallo, a business owner from southern Utah, and one of the twenty-eight men who paid to have sex with Lindsay at Happy Ending Ranch. Sammy and Tony became friends, and with Tony endlessly harping on Lindsay and how “awesome” their brief encounter was, Sammy divulged to him that Lindsay was his “live-in girlfriend” now and looking to turn a trick or two “for the right price.”
Tony was interested, of course, and after further discussions, had no issue with Sammy’s insistence that he pay Lindsay $10,000 in cash for a seventy-two hour “date.” While a lot of money, Tony saw it as a bargain – he forked over $800 for one measly hour at the brothel last year. $10,000 would get him three overnights with Lindsay, unquestionably the best piece of ass he’d ever experienced and, best of all, they wouldn’t be confined to the brothel. Tony could take Lindsay out to eat, go sightseeing, buy her presents … whatever she wanted.
And fuck her without any government regulations getting in his way at the hotel.
He’d been married for twenty-seven years, though, and had concerns his wife, boring and vanilla as she was, would find out if the date took place anywhere in Utah. So, his business trip to Phoenix this week provided the perfect cover for the “transaction”, illegal and punishable by jail time as it was. Tony was originally supposed to be in Arizona today, and today only, but had since arranged for three additional days, telling his wife the convention got extended, and he had to be there for it.
In the morning, he’d meet Lindsay at the baggage carousel at Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport and their date would commence. He’s going to want to take me straight to the hotel and start fucking right away … I’m sure of it! Seventy-two hours later, Tony would bring Lindsay back to the airport, where they’d part ways, with her returning to Salt Lake City (and Sammy).
I didn’t ask for this, but Daddy is insisting I go there and whore out for Tony. I have to do what Daddy says … else he’ll punish me. Lindsay had no issue with Tony, certainly nothing against him. The party we had last year was one of my favorites … top five, if not top three. Tony smashing her against the wall and eating out her ass from behind was one of the sexiest things anyone had ever done to her. I have nothing but great memories of that party. Rather, Lindsay was scared to death – utterly convinced – that something would go horribly wrong. I’d kill myself like Evie did if I was ever sentenced to jail.
Why can’t I go back to the brothel and just fuck Tony there? We’d have so much fun, and I wouldn’t be stressing out over everything like I am now.
Sure, if she got away with this, $10,000 would be a welcome addition to her savings. I’m nearing a million, I think, but ten thousand is ten thousand. It was nothing to sneeze at, right? I won’t have the house to split my earnings with and Daddy says I won’t be reporting the ten thousand on my taxes, either … so it’ll all be mine.
“Babygirl, you’ve seen Mariko, Scarlett, Sahara, Riley … they’ve all come to us several times, I’ve paid them, and there’s never been a problem. Hell, I pay you, too, and you certainly don’t seem to have a problem with it.”
“That’s because I trust you, Daddy.”
“And you don’t trust Tony? You said he was such a great guy. I have a copy of that man’s driver license; I know his phone number, where he lives, works, his wife’s name, his kids’ names … everything about him.” Just like a good pimp. “He’s not going to harm you in any way, I promise.”
“I do trust Tony.” Her chin trembled. “I just don’t like going to an unfamiliar place and putting myself at risk. I’ll be scared out of my mind if a cop approaches us.”
“You have nothing to worry about. Just act natural and ignore them. Hell, a fucking cop won’t approach you anyway. They’d have no reason to.”
Lindsay sighed and began tapping away on her smartphone again. Sammy figured that Becky must have responded, and Lindsay was sending her another text, or perhaps being chatty with Alexa, another of her digital regulars. Whatever the case, Sammy chose not to inquire.
* * *
Truth be told, Sammy had his reasons for wanting Lindsay out of the picture for a few days. It was good that she started taking independent bookings (“like a true whore should”), but something else was at play too. While Lindsay was in Phoenix, Sammy would be in Flagstone – at Happy Ending Ranch – reacquainting himself with girls such as Pamela, Kenzie, and Mariko, among others.
If Lindsay knew, Sammy figured she’d insist she come, too, because she’d been talking a lot about Pamela in recent months and how much she missed her. Sammy considered Lindsay catty – way too talkative – and certainly not the brightest crayon in the box. He feared, even if she went back to work for just one week, Lindsay might slip and say something to incriminate herself (or more importantly, him). Thus, he’d made the decision that she wouldn’t be permitted to step foot in Happy Ending Ranch ever again.
There was too much risk involved.
Colt is a bastard for the law and wouldn’t hesitate to call the sheriff on us if he knew.
(End of Chapter Eighteen - to be continued)