The Subjugation of Rembrandt Logan Chapter 9: Lingering Feelings

“Swallow.”

Rembrandt did as commanded. It took effort. The taste was unpleasant, bitter, sour, salty. The amount was substantial, more than a mouthful. A stream dribbled down his lips. It was thick, sticky, almost like glue and adhered to his throat. He nearly choked, but he swallowed.

Rachielle had been backed up for sometime.

He coughed spitting up a dollop of white liquid he’d just worked so hard to swallow. “You haven’t-”

“Not since you left.” Rachielle said in recline to her handsome, young fiance. He was nearly eclipsed by the form of her slowly deflating cock standing up above him. “I tried using a whore, but it just didn’t feel right.”

She reached for him and tugged him up to her chest. She let his head rest between her pert breasts. Nice handfuls for someone his size even if they were less than impressive for her own. She considered getting work done, but he said he didn’t care. He liked her the way she was. One of many reasons Rembrandt Logan was a keeper.

“No one else can do what you do for me.” Rachielle sighed in the contentment she that had been withheld from her for over a month.

Rembrandt collapsed between her cleavage. He knew this was coming. There was a reason he’d impressed Junie. He had indeed sucked dick before. That and more. For the better part of a year he’d been run through a gauntlet as his new fiance revealed her sexual proclivities to him. He’d been trained quite expertly in a number of perversions that would eventually culminate in his-....He’d had many reasons to run away.

He was bent over. Forced to lay on his forearms and elbows as Rachielle rose up to her knees. She took his lower body with him a leg in each hand. She stroked them and began nipping at his toes. It was clear she was eager to pick up where they had left off.

“W-what are you doing?!” Rembrandt panicked as she began sucking his toes. Her left hand ran down the length of his matching leg and grabbed a handful of soft flesh.

“You have such nice legs!” Rachielle chirped. “And this ass is the best I’ve ever seen!”

He felt her nails dig into his right cheek and squeeze. She pulled and his legs spread wider. Part of his hole was exposed.

“Rachielle don’t!” he started flailing.

*Smack*

A stinging palm hit his cheek causing it to rose up.

“It turns such a nice red.” Rachielle commented. “Your skin is lovely. Snowy white. Like the princess!”

“Rachielle I’m not ready for this!” Rembrandt insisted.

“Will you relax.” Rachielle hissed. “You’re ruining the mood. I’m not gonna take your cherry tonight. That is if it’s still there. Just checking to make sure that street trash didn’t steal my prize.”

Rembrandt could only imagine the rage Rachielle would feel if he revealed how close her “prize had come to being claimed not by Crystal but a blonde, locker, meathead. Jericho would be dead. He almost laughed. Jericho seemed so far away now. He almost wished that guy was still his biggest worry.

Her other hand was on his rear now. Both held handfuls of tight yet pliant cushion. He was spread even wider.

“Still looks tight.” Rachielle commented. “No one’s been deep diving my man?”

“No!” Rembrandt cried. “Now will you stop!”

“Hmmm.” Rachielle leaned closer towards his precious hole. Inspecting it’s wrinkles, pressing her nose against it. It smelled clean with the scent of the fragrant oils of their bath water. He probed the edge with her index finger causing her love to squeal.

“That hurts!” he whined as she tugged at the rim. It resisted just as much as she remembered. She removed her finger and it snapped closed again and puckered up.

No. He hadn’t been penetrated. Either that or he was made out of rubber, which might be worth it!

“I believe you!” Rachielle said releasing him. She let herself fall on top of him pressing him against the weight of her mattress with her body. She slid her length between the crease of his cheeks and began slowly humping.

“R-rachielle.” Rembrandt stuttered.

It was so hot when he did that. She wanted nothing more than to hear his broken voice crack and moan all night. She continued grinding letting the hard mass of her cock rub up and down the bare skin of his back. It was delightfully smooth. He trembled in meager resistance. That was the best part. He was sheltered, insecure, he hated perversion and naturally fought against his own sexual instincts. She loved coaxing out his sexuality and bringing it to the forefront.

“I won’t wait forever.” She cooed to him before sucking at the side of his face. She hoped to mark him. Her old hickeys had faded in the time he’d been away. Her teeth marks, unformed, her scratches healed…….Her bruise….the fracture...mended. It all needed replacing.

Control.

He needed to ask for it. She couldn’t force it on him. Not if she wanted to prove she’d changed.

He went onto her back and pulled him with her. He was held tight as she ran her cock under his and slid it up right beneath his shaft. They were right next to each other and the size difference was adorable. Her own member eclipsed his much like her size did. A unique taste that he satisfied for her. She knew the appeal of well maintained and muscled he-men with pecs and chiseled jaws. She could have her pick of men’s fitness and underwear models, athletes and actors. They rarely measured up to her, and when they did, they didn’t last. The literal dick measuring contest wasn’t worth it. Men had such fragile egos, but not her Rembrandt.

She pinched his nipple and he let out such a high pitched squeal her tenants would swear she was dicking down a Singapore street walker. Did he know how girly he sounded? His moans were almost addicting.

No traditional male values didn’t apply to Rembrandt, they didn’t matter to him either, or even fit him to begin with. She would make him-......suggest he grow his hair out again.

“They look so cute together.” Rachielle commented. Her dick rubbed under his leaking out precum.

“This is embarrassing.” He moaned.

“You love it.” Rachielle hummed in his ear. She took his cock and hers in on hand and started stroking both of them in tandem to another orgasm. Her second and his first. A nice start but there was more to come this night. She had been without for too long.

Rachielle Wanstone was a trendsetter, a social media icon, a maverick, an actress and model, had her own fashion line, fragrance, businesses. Her father was a senator, her mother was a talk show host. Rachielle Wanstone represented almost everything Crystal hated.

Privilege and success without earning it, because of what she was born into. Did the girl even know what the word struggle meant?

Now she had Rembrandt.

“Look,” Junie said showing a picture of Rachielle on the cover of “Time” magazine. The cover story was of the top bachelors and bachelorettes under thirty. Another magazine, number 10 on “People” magazine’s sexiest people. A Forbes article naming her one of the top rising stars of the millenium.

“I get it!” Crystal sighed. “She’s fucking amazing!”

“You should really follow her twitter!” Junie said. “She went skydiving into an active volcano and filmed it!”

“Junie, that’s not helping!”

Crystal fell backward onto Junie’s living room sofa. She’d chosen to stay the night at her friends to research and brainstorm. It wasn’t working.

“This isn’t working.” Crystal sighed. “How do I even compete with that? I don’t even know if he’s coming back to school again.”

“I dunno.” Junie shrugged. She started removing her socks and went rummaging through her sock drawer. “But we can at least do our nails while you lament.”

“I won’t allow it!” Rachielle yelled.

“I don’t care what you will allow!” Rembrandt screamed back.

“No!” Rachielle slammed her hands into the wooden table that held their early morning meal. It shattered under her strength and temper. I”m not letting you walk around that school for that floozy to paw at! I won’t have it!”

Rembrandt stepped back from the shattered table.

“Dammit.” Rachielle cursed to herself. She stood up from her chair and went to comfort Rembrandt but he wouldn’t have it. He practically jumped away at her first step. “Remy I-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” he snapped. “This is my choice and if you want this to work you have to start respecting that! Actually show me that you’ve changed instead of just talking about it.”

Rachielle saw red. “You tiny, simpering, little, twink! I do so much for you and -” She stopped herself.

Control.

“Fine. Go.” She muttered. She snapped her finger and Bertram appeared.

“Send up housekeeping.” She said before storming off to her room.

“At once, madam.”

Rembrandt was surprised. One broken table was progress for Rachielle. He’d once seen her chuck a car into the foundation of this very condominium when she found the contractors working off an old blueprint. Hundreds of thousands of dollars wasted because someone forgot to forward an email. One broken table. Maybe she was trying to change.

Rachielle let out a frustrated breath and clutched her face so tight it was painful. She was trying to punish herself for nearly blowing it. How could she not?! She knew what he was doing! Why would he want to go back to that school, back to that witch? She had her claws in him.

She couldn’t allow that, but she also couldn’t force her will on Rembrandt. She didn’t want him to feel like a prisoner. She’d made that mistake once already. No this required a more nuanced form of manipulation. She had all weekend to come up with a plan.

Crystal spent her Saturday morning at Rembrandts apartment ransacking the place with Junie for any sign of anything. Maybe an address where Rachielle lived , a number, anything.

“Well his facebook page says she lives at Pelican Shoals.” Junie announced as Crystal looked under his couch.

“How did you get in.”

“He password was his birthday!” She laughed. “What a loser!”

Crystal smacked the back of Junie’s head.

“So what now?” Junie asked. “We know where she lives but Pelican is a ritzy place. You can’t just kick down the gate or hop the fence like this dump.”

“Shit.” Crystal cursed. “I wish I could just kick her ass and be done with it.”

She didn’t have any options. Rachielle wasn’t someone you just beat in a fight. She had money, access, resources. She didn’t have any of those things. Even if she were to beat Rachielle in a fist fight no prediction of that outcome seemed like anything more than a waste of time.

“He’s friends with his mom!” Junie laughed. “What a dork!”

“What?” Crystal asked to herself.

“He only has like three friends and him mom is one of them.” Junie informed.

Crystal’s mind flashed with the spark of an idea. She practically pushed Junie off the chair she was sitting in and started typing in desperation. This was the slimmest of chances but it was the only play she could think of.