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Part 3
That's Trent. Shows you what an upright kind of guy he is. Straight forward. No nonsense. Cards on the table. He's the ideal antidote for those pussy-whipped leftists who are starting to infect the Advisory Council. Trent understands that things are the way they are for a reason. He and President Locklear are in perfect sync on that.
There are those who say Trent is insensitive to the needs of his pride and his household, that he treats them more like slaves than esteemed wives and offspring. That's nonsense, of course. Trent knows the value of a happy home and how to achieve it. A year ago I asked Amanda, his First Wife at the time, to put those rumors to rest with a dose of truth. Here's her story in her own words as she told it to me (touched up just a bit to clean up the worst of her grammar).
* * *
“Master Trent is a prince among men, I can tell you that. And I should know. I was in his original pride — I'm the last one left, in fact — and have been his Household Enforcer for thirty-four years. He's had to schedule me for slaughter next week because of the fifty year rule, but I can look back on thirty-four years of tending to his every need, and not once during that time did he ever fail to thank me and tell me how grateful he was.
“It ain't easy being the H.E. All the other wives hate you because you make them keep their little brats in line. It ain't like I weren't constantly pregnant during my fertile years, same as them, and ain't had my own brats to deal with, but they don't think about that. All they care about is their own picky problems. I've been an easy target for them to bitch about to Master Trent. But he's stood by me the whole time and gone along with whatever punishment I doled out.
“Them bitches think that once I'm in their bellies they're gonna get away with a lotta stuff because Master's named Robin as my replacement and she ain't as tough as I am. Well, they're gonna find out that she ain't the pushover they think she is. She's a smart cookie and won't let them put nothin' past her. She even taught herself how to read some of Master's books. I gotta admit, though, Robin wouldn't a been my first choice. There's a young wife named Kitten who really gets off watchin' girls cry and scream. She's a pain slut herself, loves to be punished, so she don't feel no pity for ‘em. Now she'd be tough! But Robin ain't like that. Her main problem is gettin' her mind off that little button between her legs. Robin's one oversexed little nympho. When she sees a chance of gettin' her cunt stuffed, she can't keep her mind on business.
Actually, that's probably why Master has kept her around so long, like he did me. He has a soft heart for wives who can't get enough of his big dick. ‘Course I also dropped him lots of calves before my oven pooped out, and that counts, too. And I raised ‘em right. They was well mannered, perfectly fleshed out and pretty as pictures, so Master was able to sell most of ‘em as brides and get real good prices for ‘em. And I never asked for no favors, neither. All I ever asked of Master was his mouth on my tits and that big hard cock of his in my love hole.
“Even nowadays when Master's not up to gettin' laid as much as he used to be, he's been real generous to his pride, bringing in outside studs to scratch their itch and keep ‘em pregnant. I've talked to a lot of wives from other households and there ain't many with masters as considerate as that. Most masters are real possessive about their prides and don't want no other guys screwing them, which is real selfish when you stop to think about it. I mean, guys can only get it up so many times a day, right? And when they got twenty, thirty wives to service, they just can't do ‘em all as often as the girls need to stay pregnant. So what's the big deal if some other guy comes in to help out? I mean, most Masters don't think about it, but it ain't entirely a girl's fault if she don't drop a lot of calves when she only gets fucked once a month or so. And another thing, it would be real nice if more owners were like Master Trent and cared about keeping their pride happy. I mean, put yourself in our place: all day long we got nothin' but work, a ton of screamin', bitchin' kids and TV. It ain't like we can go off grounds anytime we feel like it and see somethin' new, maybe do some shoppin'. And the computer ain't much help when you can't read or write much.
“Life is short for females and about our only real pleasure is gettin' laid every now and then. I mean, doin' it with dildos and vibrators and other girls is okay, but it ain't as satisfyin' as the real thing. There's nothin' like a hard, warm cock rammin' away inside you, balls slappin' at your crotch, fingers twistin' your nipples! And finally that moment that sends you over the top when you feel hot man juice spurtin' into you! And then those times when you're way pregnant and ain't allowed to fuck, suckin' on a dildo ain't nowhere near as satisfyin' as putting the real thing in your mouth and gettin' him to squirt into the back of your throat, or spray it all over your face and tits. I love that!
“Course I don't get laid much these days, being as old as I am. Men gotta save their sperm for the young fertile girls, y'know? I woulda turned fifty next month, although everyone tells me I don't look it. I keep myself in real good shape. But Master Trent has done his best to see I ain't entirely left out. He runs ads on the web and in the paper. He won't tell me what they say, and I ain't too good at readin', outside of grocery labels, but mostly the ads bring in young boys — thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. They ain't old enough for admission to the slaughterhouses to fuck the girls in the holding pens, and most owners won't let them anywhere near their pretty virgins — not wantin' to spoil ‘em as bride material, y'know. So the boys have to make do with the homely calves, or me. But that's okay. A fuck is a fuck. It's better than nothin', which is what I'd get if Master Trent wasn't so good to me. And the boys keep comin' back, so they must get some satisfaction out of fucking an old bitch. Actually, I give ‘em real good lessons in how to drive a girl wild, which, if they're smart, will guarantee them a happy pride one day with lots of calves to sell and tons of great sex.
“Now in the old days, when Master Trent was puttin' it to me himself . . . Wow! We got off on each other like the fourth of July! It was awesome! ‘Course, we was both young and he was equipped like a big old bull — still is, I imagine — but he also took the time to stoke my furnace proper, if you know what I mean. He didn't just climb on top and plug in, like the young boys do. Shit, some a them spout their wad before they can even find the hole! He'd take his time, maybe start by lickin' and suckin' on my toes and fingers, workin' his way up my ankles and wrists, then up my legs and arms, real slow, drivin' me crazy! By the time he'd licked his way over my shoulder to my tits, and then up the inside of my thighs to my pussy lips, my ass would be in a fuckin' puddle! He'd spend a lot of time circling my nipples with licks and little nibbles, makin' me beg for him to get to the point, so to speak. Then he'd suck on me til I was milking his cock with my hand, tryin' to get it inside me. If I had a nursing baby at the time, he'd suck all the poor calf's milk right out of my tits. But he wouldn't plant that huge cock in my cunt until he'd slid down and started that same heavenly torture between my legs, endin' up at my clit where he'd flick it with his tongue and suck on it til I was screaming with orgasms! He liked to bury that long tongue of his deep inside me, too, and wiggle it around. God, what a feeling! I'm gettin' wet now, rememberin' it. After ages and ages of fantastic teasing, he'd finally slip it into me, real slow and easy at first, so as not to hurt me. Sometimes he'd caress my tits as he slid in and out, or lay down on top and suck on my mouth and tongue, or sit up and massage my whole body as his cock picked up speed. I'd be havin' orgasms like crazy by the time I could feel him start to come. I especially loved it when he'd grab my nipples and squeeze hard just as he started to come, pounding against my pussy, finally gushing inside me! Sometimes it hurt, but God, it was wonderful! I'd lock my legs around his back and hold him there, wriggling on his cock for as long as he let me.
“Hey! You're not goin' off and leave me all worked up like this, are you?”
* * *
It's hard to conduct a proper interview when the interviewee is unbuckling your belt and pulling down your pants. I've never had sex with such an old female before, but I must admit, she was incredible! And insatiable! (And, yes, Trent had given me permission in advance to fuck her. “She'll really appreciate it and I think you'll find she's a real treat,” he had said.)
Amanda told me later that afternoon, as we were recovering from our third go-round, that Trent had told her he would have let her live another twenty years if the law had not required she be harvested before her fiftieth birthday. She was proud of the fact that he would not be putting her on the auction block, that he'd promised to do it there at the estate in their own kitchen. That meant a lot to her because at auction she would only bring in a few dollars and would probably be ground up for hamburg. But that's the kind of decent, considerate guy Trent is.
Two weeks after the interview, at Amanda's request, he invited me back to the estate for her slaughter and banquet. She was dispatched in a sweet little ceremony in the main kitchen with Trent himself slitting her throat after a touching eulogy and a goodbye kiss. Three hours later she was served to senior members of the pride, with me as a special guest, her meat all boiled up nice and tender and enhanced with her favorite spices.
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