The Miscyra House Read online

“Ahhh!” I moaned as her sweet lips closed down around the shaft just behind the head. She gently pressed forward. When the tip reached her throat, she started swallowing. She swallowed again and again, until she had my cock in to the hilt. She pulled back until only the head remained in her mouth, and then she swallowed the whole thing again.

  It was too much for me. I was too excited and the intense feelings that she was giving me were too much. I couldn't keep from blasting a big load of my hot, salty cum deep down her throat.

  I was crestfallen.

  It felt great—more than great—but I wanted so much more. I wanted to make love to her; I wanted to fuck her, for a long, long time. She had made me cum so hard, I was afraid that I couldn’t get it up again, at least for a while.

  But, Cindy kept my cock in her mouth. Even as it softened and shrunk, she wouldn’t let me pull it out. She kept sucking on it. She reached out to fondle my balls. She even reached around me and diddled my anus with the tip of her index finger.

  Sooner than I could have believed, she had my cock swelling again. It swelled quickly as she sucked, fondled and diddled. She moaned in triumph when she had my full eight inches down her throat again.

  She pulled her head back and my resurrected cock slipped out of her hot mouth. She took off her bra and looked up at me.

  “Fuck me, Jim,” she said. “Fuck me now.” She lay down on her back.

  I felt like I was in a dream, a wonderful dream, as I moved over her and licked her right breast. I licked hard, from the bottom of her tit to the top, sucking the nipple into my mouth. I loved the taste and feel of her tits, and I licked and sucked and mauled them both for a long time. She moaned and squirmed her approval under me.

  Then I started to kiss and lick my way down her body toward her outer lips. When I had reached the top of her slit, she put her hands on the sides of my head and gently pulled upward.

  “Not this time, Jim.” she whispered breathlessly. “Just put it in and fuck me. Fuck me hard. I’m ready now.”

  I would soon learn that Cindy is a very sensual woman. She needs to feel a man’s hands kneading and caressing her flesh. She needs to feel a man's lips and tongue paying homage to her tits. She needs to feel the heat of a man's lust as he makes animalistic love to her. And I needed desperately to do all those things…for both of us.

  Cindy is more than a dream. When I pushed my cock against her wet cunt lips, they opened for me, and I pushed in smoothly to the hilt. The walls of her cunt squeezed down around my cock and throbbed against the shaft.

  “Be still for a little while,” she whispered. I just lay motionless on top of her, enjoying the feeling of her hot, wet, throbbing pussy. Cindy suddenly wiggled just a little, groaned loudly, and came.

  I felt her hot juices flooding out over my cock and balls. Seeing and feeling her cum on my cock that way felt as good as shooting out my own load.

  When her gentle shuddering ended, I started to slowly pump my hips up and down. My throbbing cock slid back and forth in her cunt for several minutes. I lasted longer than usual, thanks to her taking my first big load down her throat.

  When I felt the pressure building up again, and knew that I was about to shoot a second load of cum, this time deep inside her steaming cunt, I reached down between our bodies and quickly rubbed the tip of my finger over her clit.

  She groaned, and I groaned, as we came together.

  * * * * *

  That was the first time that Cindy and I made love.

  In the next few weeks, there were many more times. Each time was as intense, and as sweet, as the first time. She made me realize that I could still have an intense, fulfilling sex life.

  Between us we didn't seem to spark the special fire that had raged within me at the Spartacus Club, at least not yet. But sex with Cindy was so good; I didn't really miss that special fire. And there was something else that took the place of the fire. I liked Cindy more than I had ever liked any woman before. I liked seeing her, talking to her, being with her.

  In just a few weeks, I fell in love with Cindy, and I could tell that she loved me too.

  Life can be so beautiful.

  Chapter 2

  Then, barely four months after I had closed the deal with Megatech, they notified me that we did not have a valid contract. They claimed my patent for a new approach to rear lighting on vehicles was invalid and therefore our contract based on that patent was null and void.

  In my Red Light Means Stop (RLMS) approach, red colored light is displayed at the rear of a vehicle only if the brake pedal of that vehicle is depressed. The taillights are yellow instead of red as they are now. When the brake pedal is depressed, the yellow taillights go off as the brighter, red brake lights come on. Then, when the brake pedal is released, the yellow taillights come back on as the red brake lights go off.

  The rear turn signal lights work much the same way. There's no good reason to have differently colored lights on at the same time. Seeing different colors can be confusing. When the brake pedal is not depressed, a flashing yellow light signals the turn. If the brake pedal is depressed, the flashing yellow light goes off as the bright, red brake lights come on. The brake light on one side flashes to preserve the signal of the turn. When the brake pedal is released, the flashing yellow light comes back on as the red brake lights go off.

  The RLMS approach makes red colored light itself a very strong signal of braking for anyone who can see red. All of the best features of older systems are retained by RLMS rear lighting, so that color-blind drivers can still see the brake signal. There is little doubt that, by making the brake signal stronger, RLMS rear lighting could prevent some rear end collisions.

  I was expecting Megatech to quickly test the RLMS approach to prove its safety value; to market RLMS rear lights; and most importantly, to send me lots of money!

  At first, Megatech seemed to meet my expectations. They recognized the value of RLMS rear lights and agreed to sharing part of the RLMS rear lights profits with me. I guess I was naive, though, to simply trust them. Before even the ink was dry on my contract, they had probably told their lawyers to find a way to get out of paying me anything.

  The lawyers found some old, obscure patents that no one had previously paid any attention to. Now, the lawyers claimed that the RLMS approach was made obvious by those earlier patents, so my patent should never have been issued. If my patent was not valid, there was no need to share any of the profits with me. That's exactly what Megatech intended to do.

  Damn! Kicked in the stomach again!

  Just when my relationship with Cindy was developing into the "forever after" kind of love, those bastards destroyed my financial future. The prospect of just continuing on with Thomas and Brown was a very bitter pill for me to swallow.

  "Don't worry, Jim," Cindy told me. "Truth is on your side. You should sue Megatech for the money they rightfully owe you."

  I did feel like I should sue Megatech. But how could I? I didn't know anything about suing anybody. And how much would it cost to sue them? I didn't have any money to pay legal fees.

  I felt helpless. Even though I was very angry, I just had to hold my anger inside.

  But when Megatech started to advertise that they would be selling RLMS rear lights, they claimed that it was their original idea. That was the final straw. I had to sue the bastards!

  But I‘ve never been good at saving and I didn't have any money to do it. Cindy offered to help.

  "I have a small inheritance from my grandmother and you can borrow what you need from me," she told me. "Then, after you kick their butts in court and they have to start paying you what they owe you, you can pay me back."

  It sounded simple enough. But, I suspected her suggestion was not very realistic. Even if I did beat Megatech in court, it would be at least several years before I might get any money from them. I did decide to borrow the money from Cindy, but I wanted to pay her back a lot sooner than after the court case was over.

  I found a law firm in Washingt
on, D.C, that seemed to have a lot of experience with cases like mine. I sent them copies of my patent; copies of the earlier patents that Megatech said made mine illegal; a copy of my contract with Megatech; and, a brief that outlined what I believed to be Megatech's breach of contract.

  A couple of weeks later, I received a phone call from Michelle Pearl, one of the lawyers at Briggs, Briggs, and Stratton. I could tell from her voice that she was too young to be more than a junior member of the firm but decided to speak with her anyway.

  She said “I've been asked to talk to you about your case against Megatech for the…um.” I heard her shuffling papers. "Oh, yes. For the RLMS rear lighting system. By the way, why do you use those initials?"

  "The initials stand for Red Light Means Stop," I said. I wasn't terribly happy about the way that Briggs, Briggs, and Stratton seemed to be approaching my lawsuit. Ms. Pearl didn’t seem particularly familiar with my case. And, she didn't even say that she had been asked to take my case, but only that she had been asked to talk to me about it.

  "Mr. Miller, I believe that you already know Megatech will claim your patent was not legally binding because those earlier patents made your RLMS approach obvious."

  "BULLSHIT!” I couldn't help saying that. And I said it very loudly. Ms. Pearl didn't seem at all surprised by my emotional shout so I guess lawyers are used to emotions running high in lawsuits.

  I continued at a much lower tone of voice. "Look, if it really was obvious after those earlier patents, then why weren't RLMS rear lights put into automobiles long ago? Don't the people in charge of regulations want to prevent rear end collisions? They do seem to recognize the value of using color specifically. After all, I think stop signs used to be yellow."

  "I'm afraid, Mr. Miller, that even though it seems to be significant to you, comments like that will have no effect in court.” She paused for a moment and I heard more paper shuffling.

  "I don't think your paperwork quite makes it clear. What do you think are the particular features of RLMS rear lighting that were not made obvious by the earlier patents?"

  "Well, the display of red colored light, and only red colored light, at the rear of a vehicle whenever the brake pedal of the vehicle is depressed. And the display of only yellow colored lights whenever the brake pedal is not depressed."

  "But the Sims patent pre-dates your patent by eight years, and it seems to have that same feature."

  "Not quite, Ms. Pearl.”

  I really wanted to shout bullshit again! But I didn't.

  “In the Sims patent, yellow rear turn signal lights can still be displayed when the brake pedal is depressed. In the RLMS system, when the brake pedal is depressed, flashing rear turn signal lights must be red. No color other than red should be displayed when the brake pedal is depressed."

  "Well, I'm afraid that's it. Your RLMS system is an obvious, simple extension of the Sims system."

  Now I really felt like screaming. But I didn't.

  "Ms. Pearl, might I suggest that while hindsight can be 20-20, looking at it from the other side, before my patent was issued, it might not be so obvious. Before my patent was issued, the fundamental idea that red light, and only red light, should be displayed during braking was not recognized by any system. The Sims patent does not make that idea obvious. Sims didn't even recognize the idea. It appears first in my patent."

  "Again, Mr. Miller, comments like that will carry no weight in court.” She sighed and said "I've discussed your proposed lawsuit with Jonathan Briggs, one of the senior partners in our firm. I'm afraid that he has directed me to decline to take your case. You have to realize that law will be on their side, and court decisions are based on law, not on some kind of appeal to reasoning."

  "But don't you think that Megatech is trying to use some kind of loophole in the law to cheat me?"

  "It doesn't matter what I think, or what you think, or what he and she think. Court cases are not decided based on what anybody thinks. Decisions are based on what the law says, and on what earlier courts have decided. It would be different if you had a close relative that was killed in a rear end collision. Thoughts and feelings do mean something then. Juries are sympathetic toward people who suffer the loss of a loved one because of the safety negligence of business or government. You don't have any losses like that do you?"

  "No. But don't you think, at least sometimes, written law without reasoning is less than a perfect way to achieve justice?"

  "Again, what I think doesn't matter. If you try to pursue this lawsuit against Megatech, you will lose. No appeal to reasoning can prevent that."

  "You mean, even if most people believe that Megatech has cheated me, it wouldn't help me get any money from them?"

  "That's right. I recommend that you just forget about Megatech and get on with your life. Your lawsuit has no chance."

  S-H-I-T!

  Life can be so unjust.

  * * * * *

  I was angry, frustrated and depressed. It got even worse. I was so distracted that my work at Thomas and Brown suffered and they fired me. Cindy tried to cheer me up, but I'm afraid she was not very successful.

  After that, I had a lot of trouble finding anything except minimum wage service jobs. I went from one low paying job to another, not even able to make enough to pay the rent on my apartment.

  Cindy told me to give up my apartment and move in with her. Although I would have been delighted to have her move in with me, I felt pretty damn worthless at the thought of being a financial burden on her. But I had no choice; I had to move in with her. She was so willing to give me anything I needed, and I had to just keep taking more and more.

  Cindy cheerfully gave me every kind of support, deepening my love for her. But I wasn't giving her very much in return. In my anxious, depressed state of mind, the sexual pleasure that I was giving her started to decline.

  Occasionally, I told her that I was "not in the mood" when she wanted to have sex. That bothered me most of all, even more than my guilt over taking so much money from her!

  Poor Cindy.

  How could I ever not be in the mood to have sex with her?

  I'm afraid that my depression started to depress her too.

  I was desperate to find some way to make more money. That's when I decided to write about my experience at the Spartacus Club, my night of special passion.

  I didn't know whether I could write about it well enough so that anyone would ever want to read it, but I had to try. If I could actually interest a publisher, and if anyone would ever buy my story, maybe I could be less of a financial burden on Cindy.

  I did almost all of the writing at Cindy's apartment, but I tried to keep it to myself. I wasn't sure what Cindy would think of my night of role-playing as a male submissive. I was afraid that knowing about it might make her lose respect for me.

  I struggled through the writing. It was the first time I had ever tried to write anything like The Spartacus Club. But I finally did finish the story, and I sent it to Ellora's Cave. I was both surprised and pleased when they accepted the story and published it.

  That gave me a small glimmer of hope that I could give some money back to Cindy, or at least stop taking so much from her. I really hoped that readers would enjoy my story, and that it would be a financial success.

  About the same time that Ellora's Cave published The Spartacus Club, I started a small mail order business on the Internet. Of course, I had to borrow the start-up money from Cindy.

  I bought natural health foods and nutritional supplements from several wholesale vendors and sold them through my web site. I knew that I would have to compete with several well established internet businesses selling the same kind of products. But I hoped that I might gain some advantage by having a special health product that they couldn't offer.

  My special product was a method called the "Bone Builder" to help a person suffering from bone loss to build stronger, healthier weight bearing bones.

  Doctors usually tell patients with osteoporosis to
perform weight-bearing exercise such as walking or climbing stairs in the hope it will promote the growth of stronger weight bearing bones. But vigorous muscle exercise itself doesn't directly help bones and many people with osteoporosis are incapable of vigorous exercise on a regular basis.

  With the Bone Builder, all a person has to do is stand up against a resistant force. It can be easily done without the kind of fatigue that can accompany walking or stair climbing.

  Unfortunately, I couldn't get any recognition of the Bone Builder from the doctors who treat patients with osteoporosis. Without at least some endorsements, the Bone Builder wasn't selling very well, certainly not well enough that I could start repaying Cindy.

  I needed money to fund testing of the Bone Builder by some of those skeptical doctors. But how was I going to get that kind of money?

  Cindy didn't have that much money. Even if she had, and offered to let me use it, I couldn't have taken it from her. It seemed like every time I needed to do something to try to get out of my financial hole, my lack of money prevented my doing it.

  Then something unexpectedly happened that gave me some hope of getting the money that I needed to have the Bone Builder tested. I got a letter from a ladies' literary club in California. They apparently liked The Spartacus Club. The letter was an invitation to be one of three authors competing for a prize of $5,000.

  That's not a fortune, but it is almost a year's pay at one of my minimum wage jobs! It probably would be enough to have some testing of the Bone Builder done.

  The opportunity was too good to pass up. I wrote back accepting their invitation, and the ladies' literary club sent me an airplane ticket to Los Angeles, where the competition was to be held. I told Cindy that I needed to go to LA for a few days to be in an authors' competition.

  In bed the night before I was scheduled to go, Cindy wanted to talk.

  "Okay, so tomorrow you're going to LA to be in some sort of authors' contest. But you never told me before that you were a published author. What did you write?"

  I didn't tell Cindy about The Spartacus Club when I wrote it, or even when it was published. And I still didn't want to talk to her about it. I was never totally comfortable myself with the knowledge that I had experienced one of the most memorable orgasms of my life while I was playing the role of a submissive male for two beautiful dominatrixes. I was afraid that if Cindy knew about it, the knowledge might somehow damage our relationship.