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“You haven’t fucked this?”
I shake my head. It’s hard to get used to referring to women as objects. I see them as such, but I give them their proper names. Katantians don’t.
“Oh, you show restraint. I would’ve fucked her on her first day back,” Aram says, chuckling as he makes his way back to Kamila. He grabs her by the head, and he puts her back to work. At this point, he’s using her as a toy, a barely breathing masturbatory toy. “I should look into this surgery. What is it called? Labiaplasty?”
I nod.
“I’ll import some doctors. Yours did a good job. Enjoy it. Kamila’s pussy is fine. She takes after her mom, but Felicita’s getting old, and she might require a touch up… Is your wife feisty at all?” Aram asks while I take my seat again. I don’t bother telling the cunt to cover up. She can air her pussy on the dining room table, shock the staff and eat her guilt for having such an ugly pussy that she needed surgery.
“Not really,” I reply. It’s the honest truth. Mywifeis numb. It’s mipreciosathat drives me nuts. “Her demure nature gets tedious, but when she scowls, it makes me cum like crazy. I… I don’t really love her. She was a payment, one I’ve been stuck with for too long. She had the googly eyes for me back when I took her. I’ve known her for years, but her daddy only gave her away when she was of age.”
“What a paradox of a man,” Aram comments, frowning.
“I know, right?” I sigh. “In my world, there’s no divorce.”
Aram feels my pain. “That’s pitiful. What about removing her from the equation? Would that be tasteless?”
“I can’t. If I kill her, I’ll have to find a new one. I’m better off with this broad,” I tell Aram, bypassing the fact that mipreciosaforbids me from killing my ownwife. She says that it would be bad for business. I believe she doesn’t want to lose me to a new trophy wife search. She knows that times have changed. Pussy is everywhere, and on Katantia, for example, I could find ten new wives in an hour. Fresh faces, fertile wombs and submissive natures. No need for a controlling cunt.
Mipreciosahates mywife, but she can tolerate her. She has fun torturing mywife. So much fun that I sometimes want to end mywife’s life to spare her…
To preserve some of her dignity, whatever’s left of it.
“Oh, I know the feeling. My son’s on the lookout for a wife, and he’s exhausted by it,” Aram says, sitting back in his chair. He grunts, filling the princess’ mouth with his cum. It starts leaking from her mouth, down the king’s shaft. Quickly, I lift my gaze. I don’t want to be caught staring. “Speaking of my son, you’re coming to the festivities tonight?”
“Of course, I am!” I proclaim.
“Perfect. It won’t be as glamorous of an affair as the party last night…” It was a night-long orgy with the best pussy on Katantia. I could only watch and have mywifesuck my cock for hours on end. Her pussy surgery is wearing me thin. “As a punishment for my son. If he wanted the best of the best, he should’ve graduated years ago. It’s too late. He’s made a fool of our family. It’s pathetic.”
“With all due respect, nobody I know graduated from college. So, from me, you get all the praise,” I say.
He nods. “Yeah, I know. I should be proud, but I’m salty. He’s supposed to be my heir.”
“She’s not getting the crown?” I ask, pointing at the spent redhead sleepily panting on his lap.
Aram laughs at my suggestion. “The only crown she gets is my cock’s crown. If I could, I’d strip her of her title, but the people love her. If I made her one of them, they would revolt. She’s holy in their eyes.”
I could understand why. Aram might not want to crown her, but Kamila Ruby Wraith walks around like she’s the queen already. I wish the cunt on the table would show a touch of the Wraith whore’s effort.
But of course, she doesn’t.
No. Máximo gets the useless pussy, the one that has to be modified by surgery. Máximo gets the old pussy, moody and bossy all year round. Máximo doesn’t get what he wants. Never. He owns half his home country and more, but he’s a toy in hispreciosa’s game of wicked chess.
One of these days, I’ll snap.
It’ll be too late for mercy.
I wear a designer I can’t even pronounce, leather shoes and cologne that makes every woman turn to look at me twice when I walk by. My divine body structure helps. Those glutes don’t form themselves, but what can I say. My genes are bad motherfuckers.
Thanks, Pops.
Thanks, Momma.
Although I’m a paying guest, and I’ve been vetted by the King of Katantia himself, I have to exit the palace and wait in line to be allowed inside the festivities. I wait behind a group of three. The young woman of the group is dressed like she’s about to accompany Brad Pitt to the Oscars. Her gown looks like it was sewed by masters of sorcery. She floats where she stands, mesmerizing anyone in her presence. Her dark hair is done in an elegant waves, her skin sparkles.
She’s young.
Brad would be pervy for her. Maybe a Shawn Mendes would suit her better?
