Ugly Saggy Lesbian Madam Sells Her 20-Year-Old Wife

The private parlor at the back of the whorehouse was kept warmer than the public rooms, the lamps turned low so the red wallpaper looked almost brown. Fiona sat on the edge of the wide bed and waited, sixty-five years old and in no hurry. She was a heavy woman, fat in the belly and the thighs, with soft sagging breasts that rested on her stomach and a face nobody had ever called pretty: deep lines, a soft chin, a mouth that turned down even when she was pleased. Between her thick thighs her cock hung heavy and half-hard, thick as her wrist, the skin of it darker than the rest of her and already shining a little at the tip. She ran the house. She had run it for thirty years. Tonight she was selling her wife.

Daphne knelt on the rug where Fiona had told her to kneel, twenty years old, naked except for a thin gold chain at her throat. She was small beside Fiona, smooth where Fiona was slack, and she held her mouth a little open the way she had been trained, eyes up, hands on her own thighs. She had agreed to the night the moment Fiona named the price. Three women, old and fat and ugly the way Fiona was ugly, had paid handsomely for the use of her until morning, and Daphne had flushed and said yes before the number was finished. She loved being sold. She loved the part where Fiona watched.

"They're in the hall," Fiona said. Her voice was low and rough. "Agnes, Hester, and Mavis. You remember what you asked me for."

"Yes, ma'am." Daphne's voice came out thin and eager. "Spit. Food. Their feet. Hard. All of them. I want to swallow everything they give me."

"And you want it."

"I want it." She shifted on her knees, already wet, and did not hide it. "Please sell me to them."

Fiona stood, cock swinging, and opened the door.

The three of them came in slow, the way heavy women walk when they have paid for something and mean to take their time with it. Agnes was sixty-eight, broad through the hips, her breasts hanging long and low under a robe she dropped the second the door shut. Hester was seventy-one, gray-haired and soft all over, with a belly that folded and a cock as thick as Fiona's already lifting under her hand. Mavis was sixty-three, the fattest of them, jowly and sagging, her feet bare and swollen, her own heavy cock resting against her thigh. They were built like Fiona. They smelled of powder and sweat and the money they had counted out downstairs. Each of them looked at Daphne the way a buyer looks at goods she has already decided to use up.

"On your knees, and she stays there," Fiona said. "You paid for the night. She agreed to the night. Nothing happens she doesn't beg for, and she will beg."

Agnes laughed, a wet sound. "Look at her mouth. She's already begging with it."

Daphne's eyes went from one cock to the next and her thighs pressed together. "Please," she said, clear enough for all of them. "Use me. I want all of it."

Fiona stepped in front of her and took her chin. "Open."

Daphne opened. Fiona worked her mouth, gathered a thick string of spit, and let it fall straight onto Daphne's tongue. It was warm and salty and there was a lot of it. Daphne did not swallow yet. She held it, the way she knew Fiona liked, and a thin line of it escaped the corner of her lip and ran down her chin. Fiona bent, sagging breasts brushing Daphne's face, and kissed her with her mouth wide open. It was not a clean kiss. It was wet and loud, tongues sliding, spit passing back and forth until both of their chins shone and a thread of drool hung between them when Fiona pulled back an inch. She spat again, right into the kiss, and Daphne moaned into it and swallowed what she was given, then opened for more.

"Good girl," Fiona said against her mouth. "My little whore."

On the chairs by the wall the three women had their cocks in their fists. Agnes stroked herself slow, watching the spit string break and land on Daphne's chest. Hester had one hand on her own soft belly and the other working her shaft, thumb smearing the wet at the tip. Mavis spread her thick legs and grunted, eyes fixed on Daphne's open, shining mouth. None of them touched her yet. Fiona had said they would watch the first kiss, and they watched, breathing hard, sagging flesh shifting as they groped themselves.

Daphne's face was flushed. Spit cooled on her throat. She could smell all four of them, old skin and cock and the sour-sweet of arousal, and it made her ache. She looked past Fiona at the bare feet on the rug, wrinkled and thick-soled, and her voice broke.

"Please let me worship their feet," she said. "Please. I want to lick them. I want to suck their toes while you fuck my throat. I want to be used hard. I want all of you to use me. I consent. I'm begging."

Fiona smiled, ugly and fond. "Hear that? She asked."

"Then put her to work," Agnes said.

They arranged her the way Fiona liked a sale to start. Daphne went down on her hands, ass up, mouth open, and Agnes set one swollen foot under her face. The skin was dry at the heel and soft between the toes, the nails thick and yellowed, the smell of an old woman's foot after a day in shoes. Daphne pressed her mouth to the arch and licked, slow and wet, the way she licked cock. She sucked the big toe into her mouth and worked her tongue under it, drooling so the foot shone. Hester put her other foot up beside it, and Daphne went from one to the other, kissing the wrinkled tops, sucking each toe in turn, moaning into the skin because the taste and the humiliation of it went straight between her legs.

While she did it Fiona fed her cock into her mouth from the side, thick and heavy, stretching her lips. Fiona did not ease in. She held Daphne's hair and pushed until the head bumped the back of her throat, then pulled out shining and pushed again, a steady hard rhythm that made Daphne gag and drool around the shaft. Spit ran down Fiona's cock and onto Agnes's foot, and Daphne licked that up too, choking, eyes wet, never pulling off. She wanted the gag. She wanted the weight of it. Every time Fiona buried herself Daphne's throat clenched and she made a broken grateful sound around the cock.

"Switch," Fiona said, and they did.

Hester's feet next, softer, the soles pale and creased. Daphne worshipped them with her whole mouth while Mavis took a turn at her throat, fatter cock, shallower at first, then deeper when Daphne relaxed her jaw and pushed forward onto it herself. Mavis grunted and held her there, sagging belly against Daphne's forehead, until Daphne's eyes rolled and she tapped Hester's ankle twice — their signal that she was fine and wanted more, not that she wanted out. Mavis pulled back. Daphne gasped, smiled, spit hanging from her lip, and said, "More. Please, more."

Mavis's feet last, the biggest, and Daphne licked between every toe while Fiona took her throat again, harder this time, hips snapping, the wet sound of it filling the room. Fiona's balls swung against Daphne's chin. Daphne swallowed around her and sucked the wrinkled toes and shook with how much she wanted it, cunt dripping onto the rug, untouched and aching.

They moved her onto the bed for the rest of the sale.

Agnes lay back against the pillows, cock standing up from the gray hair at her groin, and pulled Daphne's face down onto it. Daphne sucked her while Hester knelt behind and worked two thick fingers into Daphne's cunt, then three, then tucked her thumb and pushed her whole hand in slow. Daphne sobbed around Agnes's cock and pushed back onto the fist. It was a stretch that made her see white. Hester's wrist sank in to the soft fat of her hand and Daphne came the first time like that, shaking, moaning yes into Agnes's shaft, cunt gripping the fist in long pulses. Hester fucked her with it, in and out, the sound obscene, while Mavis climbed up and settled her heavy ass and her sagging cunt and the base of her cock over Daphne's nose and mouth whenever Agnes pulled out.

"Ride her face," Fiona said, stroking herself at the side of the bed. "She asked to be used."

Mavis ground down. Daphne licked whatever was put on her — the soft folds, the sweat under the belly, the underside of Mavis's cock — and opened her mouth when Mavis spat down into it. Hester fisted her through a second orgasm. Agnes came first of the buyers, a thick pulse over Daphne's tongue, and Daphne swallowed it without being told, then opened again to show it was gone.

Fiona brought the bowl from the side table. It was what Daphne had asked for when they planned the night: soft cake soaked in cream, mashed sweet and messy, easy to chew. Fiona took a mouthful, chewed it until it was slurry, and spat the whole wet mass into Daphne's open mouth. Daphne moaned and swallowed, cake and spit together, some of it escaping down her chin. Agnes did the next mouthful, chewing slow, letting it mix with her own spit, then leaning over and letting it fall in a long rope onto Daphne's tongue. Hester added hers, richer, more drool than cake. Mavis chewed and spat and then kissed the mess into Daphne's mouth, sloppy and deep, tongue pushing food and spit past her lips until Daphne gulped and whimpered and said, "More, please, feed me more."

They fed her until the bowl was empty and her mouth and chest were slick with it. Between mouthfuls they used her. Hester's cock in her throat while Agnes fisted her, deeper than before, the fat of Agnes's arm shining with Daphne's wetness. Mavis straddled her face and came across her tongue in heavy spurts, and Daphne swallowed that too, then licked Mavis clean while Hester replaced the fist with her cock and fucked Daphne hard enough to rock the bed, sagging breasts swinging, grunting with every thrust. Daphne came again around Hester's cock, crying out that she wanted it, that she consented, that they should not stop.

Fiona waited until Daphne was shaking and open and stupid with it, then pulled her to the edge of the bed and bent her over. "Doggy," she said. "You know how I want you."

Daphne got her knees under her and arched her back, ass up, face turned so the others could reach her mouth. Fiona lined up her thick cock and pushed in to the base in one long stroke. Daphne wailed, high and happy, and Fiona fucked her the way she fucked a girl she owned: hard, deep, hips slapping against Daphne's ass, one heavy hand on the back of her neck. The bed groaned. Fiona's sagging belly pressed against Daphne's lower back on every thrust. Daphne pushed back to meet her and begged for it harder, voice breaking, and Fiona gave it to her harder.

While Fiona fucked her, the three women knelt at her face in turn and fed her what was left. Agnes stroked herself until she came again, caught it in her palm with a mouthful of spit, and poured the mix over Daphne's tongue. Daphne swallowed, eyes on Fiona, and opened for the next. Hester came across her lips and chin and then spat into her mouth to wash it down, and Daphne licked her own chin and swallowed every drop, moaning through it because Fiona's cock was hitting the place that made her legs shake. Mavis chewed nothing this time, only gathered spit and the last of her cum from her fingers and pushed it into Daphne's mouth with two fingers, and Daphne sucked the fingers clean and said thank you around them.

Fiona's rhythm broke. She drove in deep and stayed there, cock pulsing, and came in long heavy shots inside Daphne's cunt, groaning, sagging over her. Daphne came with her, clenching, crying yes, yes, please, fill me. Fiona pulled out slow, and the cum that leaked from Daphne's cunt was caught by Agnes's hand and brought around to Daphne's mouth. Daphne licked it off Agnes's palm, then off Fiona's cock when Fiona fed it to her, swallowing the last of it with her eyes half-closed and a wrecked, shining smile.

They were not done in one round. Fiona sat back and watched her buyers take another turn each, because that was what the money was for and what Daphne kept asking for in a hoarse voice. Hester fucked her throat until she came down it and Daphne swallowed without spilling. Agnes put her back on her fist and made her come until she was sobbing with pleasure and still saying don't stop. Mavis rode her face until she shook apart and fed her the mess afterward, spit and cum wiped from her own soft belly into Daphne's willing mouth. Fiona took her a second time from behind, slower, meaner, and the old women held Daphne's mouth open and let her drink whatever they had left, mixed and warm, until there was nothing left to swallow and Daphne's stomach was full of them and her face was glazed and glowing.

When the last of them had finished, the room smelled like sex and cake and old skin. Agnes, Hester, and Mavis dressed without hurry, soft and satisfied, cocks tucked away, faces slack with the look of women who had gotten exactly what they paid for. Agnes set the rest of the money on the side table, bills stacked neat, and touched Daphne's hair once, almost gentle.

"Worth every dollar," she said. "You trained her right."

"She trains herself," Fiona said. "She wants it."

They left. The door shut. The parlor was quiet except for Daphne's breathing.

Fiona sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her wife up into her lap. Daphne came willingly, spent and shining, cum and spit drying on her chin, and settled against the soft sag of Fiona's breasts and belly. Fiona's cock rested spent against Daphne's thigh. She took Daphne's face in both hands and kissed her one last time, open and sloppy, sharing whatever was still on both their tongues, a slow wet kiss with no performance left in it. Daphne kissed back and hummed, small and happy, and swallowed the last thin trace of spit Fiona gave her.

"My obedient little whore," Fiona said against her mouth, voice rough and proud. "You took all of them. You swallowed every drop. I'm proud of you."

Daphne smiled into the kiss, glowing, and did not answer with words. She only opened her mouth for whatever Fiona still wanted to give her, and Fiona held her there in the warm quiet, the sale finished, the night not quite over.