The Surrogate #2
A Warm Welcome
Victor’s home was a grand place in New York’s Upper East Side, around twenty minutes from my apartment in heavy traffic. It would be half that had the roads been empty.
I noticed Henry Flick’s Mansion on 70th and Fifth shortly before we turned into Victor’s driveway, passing by the still opening, massive decorative wrought iron gates, and a security post with three armed guards.
“It’s a gilded mansion, Greg. One of the finest examples.”
“Victor’s home was built in 1881 with forty-five bedrooms, an art gallery, ballroom, an indoor swimming pool, concealed garage, and underground rail line to bring in heating coal.”
“It’s so beautiful. The gardens are exquisite, like a manicured ornamental paradise of trees, grass, and pruned hedging.”
Victor’s palatial home had a bowed front facade, with more windows than a flat design would achieve. It allowed more light to flood inside the house. White marble pillars were set equidistant across the facade, with stone-carved lintels bearing lions, unicorns, and brocade above them.
Greg parked in front of five stone steps leading to an ancient, solid wooden door with a huge brass lion knocker. Three staff ran out of the front door, looking excited, trying desperately to see me through heavily tinted windows.
“You’ll be a fascination at least for a few days, Amy.”
“I’ve never seen such a beautiful home.”
“It’s equally lavish inside, although thoroughly modern.”
“It must take an enormous effort to maintain everything.”
“We all live on-site in generous staff quarters, so it’s a labor of love in our home.”
“What is staff turnover like?”
“I’ve been here twenty years, and nobody has left.”
Two girls helped Greg unload my luggage and carry it to my bedroom somewhere upstairs, while a third, more senior woman introduced herself as Emma, leading me through the glorious house almost in silence.
Emma was around my mother’s age, perhaps a little older. She was smartly dressed in a black and white uniform that had long and short dress options, as I saw others wearing the same. She seemed kind, smiled generously, and spoke with a slight English accent.
“We can do a complete tour of your new home once you’re settled, Amy. Victor says you are to have the run of the place aside from his office.”
“It’s my temporary home.”
“But still your home, nevertheless, no?”
“Yes, that’s true. It’s an enormous house.”
“Victor mostly sticks to the library, gym, spa, or kitchen. There is also a cinema, games room, and conservatory, all far underused in my opinion.”
“The hallway is as wide as a traffic lane, Emma.”
“This home is spacious, but your bedroom is by far the grandest.”
“Wouldn’t Victor’s bedroom be the most luxurious?”
“He moved out for you to enjoy his pleasure.”
“Why?”
“Victor wants you to be most comfortable during your stay.”
“Emma, does everyone know why I’m here?”
“Of course we do. You’re a surrogate to become pregnant and have a baby with Victor.”
“You know I won’t be filling every bedroom, right?”
She laughed, but interestingly, my observation received no response. I guessed everyone who knew of me had already written a narrative that fit their needs.
One baby, maybe breastfeed, then leave.
Law degree, job, enjoy working.
I mentally ticked off my five-year life plan point by point, determined not to be seduced into Victor’s life for any longer than was appropriate to the needs of our child.
My room was glorious, decorated with the most expensive textured fabric wallpaper depicting a jungle-clearing mural centered on a massive tree, home to a family of orangutans.
An eighty-inch wall-mounted TV dominated the area across from a king-size bed with a heavy velvet-covered headboard.
“All of your bedding is brand new and one thousand thread count Egyptian cotton, which is changed daily.”
“Daily? You mean the duvet covers as well?”
“Yes, and the room is cleaned twice daily. Towels are changed within half an hour of you bathing.”
“How will you know when I bathe?”
“If a bath is run or you use the shower, housekeeping is notified by a simple sensor system on our plumbing. We wait a reasonable amount of time for you to enjoy bathing, then knock on the door and offer to change the towels.”
I stared at a painting on the wall, riveted to the spot in utter shock. I knew a Rembrandt when I saw one, just not whether it was a copy.
“Wow. Is the art in this room original?”
“Everything in this house is original, Amy. Including you.”
I spun barefoot, eyeing every nook, cranny, and furniture piece. Emma helped me unpack and hang my clothes, storing everything where I wanted it.
“I’ll leave you to figure out how to connect your phone to Bluetooth and play music. Victor also asked that you use this phone for any calls you wish. His number is programmed in.”
Emma handed me a brand-new Samsung Fold and a list of WiFi passwords.
“Do you have any questions, Amy?”
“Yes, umm… when, err… how will Victor, umm-.”
“Where and when is your choice, Amy. Victor was adamant on that detail.”
“But how will I reach him?”
“You must summon your lover using this pager. He’ll be on standby to make love any time you call.”
“Oh my… we’re not making love, Emma.”
“No, dear, but it sounds much nicer than me saying he will fuck you.”
I’m not sure I agree, but hey-ho.
Emma left me alone, and I explored the room. A wide balcony the length of my room with a metal dining table and two chairs overlooked an expansive lawned garden to the rear, and I noticed there was zero road noise when the entry doors were shut.
My bathroom was almost a spa with a two-person hot tub, an enormous black slate-walled wet room, a double-size rainfall shower, and two sinks. Where the slate ended, glass partitions and marble floors took over, sealing the space on three sides.
I felt excited and ran, then dove onto the bed, rolling in its luxurious bedding that felt ultra smooth. I noticed a Sub-Zero fridge, so I opened it and saw every fruit juice, smoothie, and soda drink ever invented neatly lined up in rows.
There was no alcohol, but I preferred it that way, an appropriate reminder that my role in Victor’s household was to get pregnant, not party.
I was startled by a knock at my door.
“Come in, please.”
“Hello, Amy. Are you settled?”
“Hello, Victor. This is the most incredible bedroom I’ve ever seen. Emma tells me it was yours.”
“I moved out a week ago and had the room deep cleaned, new bedding purchased, and every luxury soap, bath oil, natural sponge, and calming scent I could find.”
“Who shopped for all that?”
“I did, of course. I want you to be comfortable and have a joyous pregnancy. It’s important that I work hard to make you comfortable.”
“Ah, for the sake of our baby?”
“No, for your pleasure. I shall want to describe you and our pregnancy favorably in every regard to our child.”
“He or she and I will never meet.”
“They will still be our offspring, and I feel it’s important they know what a delight and wonder their mother is.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
I pointed at the Orangutan and smiled.
“The scene is beautiful. I have jungle ambient playlists on my phone to fall asleep to. Did you know that orangutans can sign and communicate with humans?”
“I did not, Amy. However, I do know that their babies learn everything in life from their mothers.”
I wasn’t sure how to process that comment. It occurred to me there might be a hidden message, but equally, his meaning might be harmless. My role in Victor’s household was clear about him not wanting a long-term relationship, which suited me perfectly.
My phone pinged, and I checked messages. Seventy thousand dollars had been deposited into my current account. I glanced at Victor, who grinned wryly.
“It’s your signing fee and first month.”
“Thank you.”
“No appreciation is required. It wouldn’t matter how much I did for you; your service to me is a far greater gift.”
“Whe-.”
He pressed a finger to his lips and prayed my silence with a furrowed brow.
“Shall we dine together this evening, Amy? Perhaps become familiar and comfortable with one another?”
“Are we going out?”
“I thought perhaps we could eat here. I have a private dining area on the roof, and it will be a clear, warm evening.”
“I have a formal outfit. It would be nice to wear a dress that won’t fit in a few months.”
“I believe Chef has Italian Porchetta planned for your arrival dinner. He might carve me up if we dine elsewhere.”
“Oh my… I like him already.”
“Would you enjoy a glass of wine this evening, Amy?”
“I’m not sure if that is wise.”
“You aren’t pregnant yet, darling.”
“Then yes, please, one glass can’t harm.”
I sat on my bed, watching Victor examine the room he’d slept in for years. I yearned to fuck him right away, with thoughts flowing through my mind of my lewd behavior and the prospects of my next ovulation becoming a productive pregnancy.
He’s also got an enormous cock.
What girl wouldn’t want to slide up and down that?
“Are you looking forward to me fucking you, Amy?”
“Very much.”
“May I ask why, please?”
“You are attracted to me, which means your body chemistry approves and is signaling that using pheromones.”
“Are you saying we have chemistry?”
“Certainly Victor. The fact your cock is so hard whenever we are together means the scent I give you, a combination of my pheromones and the mild dampness of my pussy, is having the effect Mother Nature intended.”
“We’re animals in lust then?”
“More than that. I approve of you as a man, handsome and with great character. You are a meaningful and capable mate for my nest. You tick every box.”
“And yet it will become my nest.”
“Yes, of course… my point wa-.”
“Your point is well made, Amy. I’m sorry if my comment was thoughtless. I feel the same way about you. Your wit, charm, and incisive intellect captivate me. I am… mmm, fascinated by you.”
“As you suggested, that bodes well for our child being happy throughout its life. That we like each other and enjoy our pregnancy is important. I see that now.”
“Did you see that before I mentioned it?”
“No.”
Victor sat beside me, slid a hand over mine, and squeezed tightly. He felt excited, infecting me with the trembling sensation of a first date. In every version of this first discussion about sex scenario that I had imagined, this was not how it played out.
“What’s on your mind, Amy?”
“I feel confused about this surrogacy.”
“Why?”
“I thought the transactional nature of your advertisement was simplistic and that feelings would not be relevant.”
“Have you caught feelings for me?”
“No. I don’t mean feelings of love. I’m referring to my level of arousal, desire to fuck you, and the dark, taboo elements of what game we are playing out.”
“You didn’t expect there to be intellectual foreplay?”
“No. I also hadn’t anticipated that fucking you might be enjoyable.”
“You only considered the pregnancy aspect?”
“Yes, Victor, and that’s still all I am considering as the foundation of our relationship, but now, I feel the road in front might be far more enjoyable.”
“I think this should be the best time of our lives, Amy. We should enjoy creating our baby, then move on as friends at the end.”
“Yes.”
“I also have questions about the act of sex.”
“Do share with me, please, Victor. I am very open on the subject and not at all embarrassed.”
“I enjoy oral sex. I realize that won’t help deliver our contract, but I hope you’ll consider it.”
The thoughts of cramming ten inches of Victor’s cock down my throat thoroughly appealed, and I glanced into his crotch, seeing the same cock monster that had arisen and suggested its enormity early in the day.
“Yours is a very big cock to suck, Victor.”
“I didn’t mean for you to perform fellatio, my dear.”
“Oh… Oh my, I’m sorry… you mean Cunnilingus?”
“Yes. I love giving tongue, Amy.”
“Wow. You’ll get no complaints from me. You’ll be the first.”
“Really?”
“Justin didn’t like the idea of going down on me.”
“Did you suck his cock?”
“Yes, frequently. He was very insistent when I got my period.”
“Hmm.”
“You can tell me what you think of that, Victor. Justin has already left, and we split up. It was expected.”
“I’d rather not say anything about Justin. Sometimes, it’s best to turn the page and move on.”
“I agree.”
He wanted me and stroked the back of my hand with trembling fingers. I felt lifted into a bubble. I hadn’t been so turned on before and needed to shower before we dined, knowing that later, my pussy was on the menu.
“I love going down on a girl, Amy. It’s not just the flavor at the moment when you orgasm in my mouth. I love the sticky, sweet veneer that covers a woman’s swollen labia.”
“Do you enjoy pubic hair or having a pussy that’s completely shaven?”
“I prefer a woman to choose. That’s where power lies. I can get you off, regardless of how you groom your pussy. In that moment, the orgasm is about you, not me.”
Which one of us has the power, I wonder.
“You make a compelling case for me to slip my panties off right now and enjoy your tongue plowing up and down my creamy slit.”
“I could, but wouldn’t you rather wait until a frisson of excitement sweeps you away?”
“I’m almost there. I feel fucking horny that you want me so much. I can’t explain it.”
“It is your choice, Amy.”
The sexual tension between us was incredibly validating for me. I wanted my pussy licked by a billionaire, imagining him inspecting his purchase by taste, smell, sight, and touch. I wriggled uncomfortably, growing wetter by the minute.
Something drilled a hole through my psyche. A question I must ask, hoping an answer might be forthcoming.
“Are you submissive, Victor?”
“You’ll discover what I am in time, Amy. It’s probably better that way.”
“If you want to avoid me squatting down on your face right now, you should probably leave.”
“As you wish, my dear.”
His lips brushed against mine, and my pussy soaked the lace fabric of my panties, having first layered my gusset until that was drenched. A fire surged through my body, blocking all resistance and knocking down any final inhibitions that lingered in the morality center of my brain.
Victor’s tongue wasn’t forthcoming, so I went on the hunt, flickering mine gently past sizzling lips into his mouth. When we touched, it felt like electric whips entwining, tangling together, forming a lightning bolt that sent shivers down my spine.
“Wow.”
“Yeah… that was my best first kiss ever, Amy.”
I opened my eyes slowly, feeling a maelstrom of emotions taking me on a journey. My body wanted, no, needed to be fucked by Victor, but I wanted to wait, torment myself by imagining how much his cock would stretch my pussy wide.
“What time is dinner please?”
“Does 7:30 suit you?”
“Yes.”
After Victor left, I whipped off my panties, sniffing them out of curiosity. I smelled hormonal and knew in a few days, the creamy mess between my legs would grow to an excess during ovulation.
I inspected the cream-coated gusset, marveling at the effect Victor and our tryst had on my body.
It’s not because of him specifically. The situation is arousing you.
There is an immense slutty context to this.
And he’s a fucking billionaire renting your uterus.
I’d toyed with my clitoris many times over the past weeks, considering the advertisement Victor left at my University. Some girls piled in, applying immediately; others snorted condescendingly at the notice, declaring any respondee must be a slut.
I masturbated frequently, imagining the fantasy attached to Victor’s request. My mind focused on my slutty tendency and a desire to be used, fucked endlessly until we stood together in the delivery room.
At home that first evening after Victor’s advertisement was pinned on every University notice board and before Justin came home, I slipped out of my clothes and lay on our bed, spreading my legs wide open.
The aroma of my arousal overwhelmed me as I read the advertisement while dragging my solid, oversized, swollen, creamy clitoris from side to side, reeling in tumultuous pleasure, trembling vigorously while moaning whoreishly.
My finger hadn’t been enough, so I grabbed a six-inch long, pink rabbit dildo from the nightstand drawer and devoured it deep inside my throbbing cunt, desperate for Victor’s imagined cock.
I stood up and paced Victor’s bedroom, shaking those memories from my head. I slipped out of my clothes, piling everything in a laundry basket before stepping into the shower. The warm rain cascading on my neck, shoulders, and back sent me to my apartment bedroom, reimagining the dildo I desperately needed right now.
I parted the clitoris tickler twin latex prongs with my forefinger, making sure they pressed hard from either side against my swollen pearl.
I turned up the vibration on both to the maximum, with the cock buried deep inside my hole and clitoris tickler, flicking my slick, engorged bean. I remembered the electric power that fucked my hole, arching my back and tingling my spine, eliciting butterflies that shimmered free from my womb, rippling joy deep in every muscle, spasming my sinews as they overstretched.
Out of necessity, I turned the shower to icy cold, dismissing the arousal that had wreaked havoc through my body and mind. I couldn’t erase the memory of my orgasm, finally confessing something awful to myself.
“My best orgasms were on the end of a latex cock.”
I yelled my truth aloud, grimaced about it, and then cried for lost opportunity and a litany of bad choices. I was a desirable and beautiful woman who threw herself at a man in love with his sister.
And now you’re selling an embryo and loaning out your womb.
Fucking hell, Amy. What have you done?
What are you doing now?
Icy cold water drenched my skin, cooling rampant emotions and returning me to my senses. I crouched on the floor, invigorated by the cold, while gaming out my life, past and present.
Justin was a bad idea, but now the matter is resolved.
Right now, I want a career, not love or a family.
Victor is right for me, as I am for him.
As I dried myself, second-guessing became easier, and I analyzed my decision tree. I was a year out from graduation, already offered many positions in top law firms, and love was something that might undo me.
I prepared for dinner, wearing no makeup, and styled my hair, drawing it away from my face into a tight, long ponytail, making sure everything about me exuded my sexual availability to Victor.
My black, knee-length, figure-hugging dress flowed beautifully with no visible panty line from the pink and gold Nixie panties by Agent Provocateur.
The thin gusset won’t hold my arousal well, but I must get used to that or wear two pairs and a pad.
I went to find Victor, who unexpectedly waited in the foyer like a boyfriend collecting me from my home.
“You look beautiful, Amy.”
“You do as well, Victor. I’m not sure how much longer I can contain my frisson.”
“You must decide when and where my dear.”
You must be a submissive man.
But if you are, why do I feel like I’m being controlled?
Why is everything about me, my pleasure, and my choices?
“You’re a very complex man, Victor.”
“Au contraire Amy. I am a straightforward man. If I want something, I ask for it. If I need something, I strive for it.”
“I’ll unpack that later, Victor. When people say things like you just did, there are layers of meaning that often don’t occur without some thought.”
He changed the subject masterfully, pointing at my feet.
“I see you wore no shoes.”
“I find socks more comfortable, especially at home.”
“Is this your home now, Amy?”
“It feels like it. Your staff are all excited to see me. I feel at home, and that’s all because you’ve attended to my needs so entirely.”
“Does that make me submissive?”
“I’m sorry I asked the question earlier. I jumped at a conclusion without sufficient evidence.”
“Yes, perhaps a lesson learned for a lawyer at the top of her class.”
“You know so much about me.”
“And you, Amy, know a great deal more about me than exists in the public domain.”
Still not enough, though.
“Shall we dine?”
“Yes, please, Victor.”
“Let us away to the roof.”
An exquisite elevator with views outside through three floor-to-ceiling panels whisked us to the rooftop, where a hive of activity ensued. Victor led me to a table laid for two with an Irish linen tablecloth embroidered with a beautiful shamrock pattern repeated throughout.
“The porcelain dinner service is from Noritake, specifically a design from the 1970s named Nefertiti. She was Pharaoh Akhenaten’s wife.”
“Some scholars believe she also ruled after his death in the name of Neferneferuaten. There are also many rumors and theories about her relationship with Tutankhamun.”
“You are well-read, Amy.”
“In many subjects, yes, I am. In life and love, not so much.”
When Victor reached out his hand, I took it, gently entwining my fingers with his, tingling with pleasure as he smiled at me as though I were a gift from heaven.
“This rooftop is almost like an outdoor restaurant, Victor.”
“Our Chef is incredible, and this moment is perfect.”
I glanced around the outdoor kitchen with its wood-burning pizza oven and charcoal grill over which a herb-stuffed, boned, and rolled suckling pig rotated, dribbling juices that sizzled on hot coals much like my pussy did.
A wine waiter presented me with a bottle of Chateau Margot, and Victor insisted I taste it for suitability when usually the man would. I smiled; he raised an eyebrow, and I giggled.
“I’m not judging. I’ll enjoy figuring you out.”
“I never thought you were. I want you to be comfortable around me, Amy.”
“Do you believe that a positive vibe will be passed on to our unborn child in my womb?”
“Mother Nature is far more powerful than any study on this subject, and yes, I do believe your well-being and positive pre-disposition toward me will affect our child.”
“I agree, and that is something I also want to promote. I want our baby to love you from its first spark of life.”
“Thank you, Amy.”
We each raised a glass, toasting our proposed union. I felt comfortable in Victor’s presence, enjoying his power and the excitement that caused with suitable apprehension for the first time a man would go down on me.
A commotion closing in on our table drew my attention, and I saw a woman approach.
“Is this the whore, Victor?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Caprica. Who let you in?”
“You’re my fucking brother. I can visit you anytime I want.”
An angry woman in her early thirties wagged her accusatory finger at me. I chuckled and almost spat my wine while Victor looked embarrassed.
Her ire was directed at me.
“What are you laughing at?”
“My name is Amy.”
“I don’t fucking care about you.”
“Then why are you here, Caprica?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you don’t care about me, why did you disrupt Victor’s household and barge into our delightful dinner?”
“To voice my opinion.”
“Are you finished now?”
I felt supremely confident and entirely unemotional. She gawped at me, and Victor relaxed, smiling. I thought he looked somewhat impressed that I hadn’t reciprocated with anger. Caprica’s cheeks flushed bright red, and she scanned the area, noticing all eyes were on her, finally realizing she’d become a scene.
“Do you think you’re clever, Amy?”
“My IQ suggests that I am.”
“Oh fuck off. You’re a gold-digging whore.”
Victor raised his hand, and surprisingly, that simple gesture silenced his sister. He looked vexed but not angry.
“Dear sister, Amy has inherited assets and cash value over one hundred million dollars. She is top of her class in Law, which confirms her future wealth will be immense.”
“Why are you telling me that, brother?”
“Amy isn’t helping me for the money. She wants to combine her DNA with mine as part of the human story.”
I was shocked to the core. My private wealth was completely unknown to anyone. Some may guess by my apartment, but that wouldn’t get them to a near-accurate valuation as Victor had.
“She’s still a whore.”
“Caprica, do you love your brother?”
“Yes, of course I do. That’s a ridiculous question.”
“Will you love his child?”
“Yes, of course; why?”
“Will you enjoy telling them their mother was a whore, and that was the foundation of their existence?”
Her eyes widened, and I saw regret writ large on her face. Not knowing the woman meant I couldn’t understand what soul-searching had happened in the dark recesses of her mean heart, but for sure, Caprica was done firing insults at me, turning and running away immediately.
Victor raised his glass, grinning broadly while his sister fled to the elevator.
“Bravo, Amy. I’ve never seen my sister despatched so effectively.”
“I’m sure she’s very nice under the right circumstances.”
“Oh, she is. Caprica is delightful when she wants an increased allowance.”
“Shall we continue with dinner, Victor? I feel an urgent need to enjoy your head between my legs.”
“Per your wishes, m’lady.”
Next Chapter:
😂 Love it... sex toy. I can imagine Harvard giving them out free.
This young lady is crazy if she really thinks she will be able to walk away from her baby, especially if she breast feeds and gets that level of bonding.
Not to mention the handsome, submissive, giant-cocked billionaire 😉