Open Your Legs for my Family

(BOOK ONE OF THE INITIATION 2 SERIES)

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2012 by Aphrodite Hunt

Cover art by Aphrodite Hunt

Published by Aphrodite Hunt at Smashwords

WORKS BY APHRODITE HUNT

The ‘Initiation’ series

Open Your Legs for Me

Blindfolded and Spread-eagled

Thighs Wide Apart

Teacher, Please Spread my Pussy

The Final Initiation

The Initiation: A Bundle of 5 Stories

The ‘Initiation 2’ series

Open Your Legs for my Family

Bend Over for my Family

Publicly Display Yourself for Me

‘
The Royal Captive’ series

Prince Miro’s Capture

Prince Miro’s Submission

Prince Miro’s Enslavement

Prince Miro’s Punishment

Prince Miro’s Escape

Prince Miro’s Final Confrontation

The ‘Naughty Nymphomaniac’ series

I was a Naughty Nymphomaniac

Officer, Please Spread and Cuff Me

Gang Banged by the Chain Gang

Hot, Wet and Steamy
(individual
stories)

When He’s Inside You

My Stepson is a Naughty Stripper

The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter
(Erotic Suspense)

Her First Clit Ring

Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens

Dear reader, as this list is not always
comprehensive due to more stories being churned out after this
point in publishing, please visit
http://aphroditehunt.blogspot.com/
for more stories and updates

1

I’m the youngest member ever to get into Phi
Kappa Omega, the greatest club Gifford has ever known. I have a
gorgeous blond boyfriend who has a body to die for. I’m the envy of
every girl in campus. Yes, even the seniors.

Sometimes I can’t believe it myself.

But I have gone through experiences that no
other freshman has ever been through. None of it is for the
fainthearted. I have been fucked in every orifice, spanked, bound,
exhibited, displayed, experimented with and tortured in the name of
pleasure.

I consider myself pretty, but not
overwhelmingly beautiful. Not in the way models or even some of the
girls on campus are. A girl like me shouldn’t be able to snare a
senior
boyfriend like Max Devlin.

And yet I did. He’s mine, every inch of his
glorious awesomeness.

I can’t take my eyes off him.

I mean, just look at him. How his
wife-beater shows off his pecs – his nipples like little damson
stones beneath the thin white material. His muscular arms – shaped
by doing thirty laps a day in the choppy waters of the campus
Olympic-sized swimming pool. His V-shaped abdomen flaring to hips
that make me want to run my hands all over. His sinew-packed legs
in his tight, tight jeans.

How can any woman not desire Max Devlin? One
look at him, and lust pangs are elicited between my legs. My dreams
are filled with him being inside me – his long legs wrapped around
me, his cock hard and long within the silky purse of my vagina –
thrusting deeply into me, filling me with ecstasy and the frothy,
rich pools of his sperm.

Ohhh. I made that dream a reality yesterday,
and I’m going to relive it tonight.

I hug myself with glee.

The very object of my desire is in the
driver’s seat of his Porsche 911. He looks over to me and smiles.
“A dime for your thoughts.”

“They’re worth just a dime?” I say
playfully.

We’re on our way to his parents. Yes. You
heard that right. Max Devlin is bringing me to meet his family.

And we’ve only known each other for, like,
what? Less than two months in total?

The last couple of weeks have been bliss.
More sex than I can dream of – just me and him, intimately joined
on his bed. Moonlight walks in the park, our fingers intertwined.
Long romantic dinners in pricey restaurants.

One telepathic push, and maybe he’ll be able
to read my mind and know that I love red roses. In floral
arrangements. With a little card that says ‘P/s: I love you’.

I think, for all my bravado, that I’m a
shameless romantic.

Every day for the last two weeks, I wake up
next to him. I turn my head on the pillow and push my nose against
his neck to imbibe his wonderful manly scent. I have to pinch
myself several times to make sure this is real. I have Max Devlin
as my boyfriend, and he is in bed beside me.

Me
.

We don’t speak of what happened during my
Initiation. We don’t speak of the countless of men who have fucked
me in every single one of my pleasure holes. My past only comes up
during our foreplay, where he displays an affinity for metal clamps
. . . to be secured on me. It doesn’t matter. I’ve learned to like
the intimate pain, the numbness that flowers every time my nipples
or clit or pussy lips are gathered and pinched by the hard
metal.

We speak only of today . . . and
tomorrow.

“What are your parents like?” I ask.

He gives a short laugh. “Weird.”

Something in the way he says this makes me
think their relationship may be strained.

I press on. “Do you get along with
them?”

“What makes you think I don’t?” He shoots me
a quizzical look.

Well, it’s the way your father made his
security guard strip-search you back in those gardens. But of
course, I don’t say this.

“My father is a philanthropist,” he offers.
“He’s also the chairman of a multinational pharmaceutical company,
but he likes to be known as a philanthropist. He goes around the
world raising funds for causes like Darfur and the landmine victims
of Laos.”

Impressive. And yet this man that we speak
so highly of strip-searches his own son. Why? Does Max Devlin have
a torrid past outside the Initiation circles? Does his father?

“And your mother?” I say.

“She’s self-absorbed. Meaning she’s not a
philanthropist.” Max chortles at his own joke. “She runs a fashion
empire.”

Wow. It must be tough being Max, having to
live up to such an illustrious family.

“Any brothers and sisters?”

“What’s this? Twenty questions?”

“I just want to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what? We’re not the Addams
family, though sometimes I think we have blood ties.” He
smirks.

“Prepared for – ” I shrug. “Oh, you know.
Anything you think I should be prepared for.”

I let this trail. Max’s silence suggests an
ominous note. I meant it more as small talk, but now I’m getting
worried. Is the Devlin family all that bad? I mean . . . come on.
His father is a philanthropist. How bad can a philanthropist be?
Unless philanthropy isn’t all that it’s cut out to be.

Max finally replies, “Maybe I just want you
to be surprised.”

He leans over and kisses me on the lips to
shut me up. The Porsche swerves into the other lane. In front of
us, an oncoming car blares its horn. Max spins the steering wheel
before we can smash into the car. My heart and ears are pounding
with the near miss.

Being with Max Devlin is like riding the
crest of a major surf wave.

We continue for a little farther (in the
proper lane).

“OK,” Max announces, “maybe there’s a little
something you have to be prepared for.”

Alarm bells clang in my head. “Such as?”

“It’s more to do with me,” he hastily
says.

“You?”

“Yes, me.” He lowers his voice. “There’s
something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Gina.”

Uh oh. This is not ‘the talk’, is it? The
inevitable breakup? I mean, why would a man like Max Devlin want
someone like me, right, when he can have anyone else in the
world?

I’m nervous as hell, but I make myself say
lightly, “Go ahead.” Inside my chest, my heart is knocking against
my ribcage. So soon, so soon . . . but I didn’t have enough time
with him. I need more!

Of course, it had never occurred to me that
our relationship would last a hearts-and-flowers lifetime. People
like me don’t get guys like Max Devlin. It isn’t the natural order
of things. It just isn’t.

He seems almost afraid. Max Devlin – afraid
to ask me something!

“You remember, of course, what happened
during your initiation.”

Oh, he’s bringing that up. It’s my turn to
be guarded.

“Yes?”

“Did you like what happened to you?”

Well, that’s a difficult one. I endured some
of it, I enjoyed the rest. It was simultaneously pleasurable and
painful and humiliating and degrading and stimulating and
exhilarating. I had multiple orgasms. I was in unbearable pain.

What can I say?

“I liked most of it,” I finally tell him as
an appeasement. It’s true. I did like most of it.

His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows.
“Would you like to revisit some of it?”

He lets this hang between us for a
while.

“Revisit?” I say.

“Yes.”

“You mean . . . as a participant?”

“Yes. As a submissive.”

Of course it will be as a submissive. I can
never be a dominatrix, however much I try.

I lick my lips. “You mean the bondage?”

“I mean all of it. And more. Much more.”

The implications float ominously in the
stilted atmosphere of the car.

Dismay creeps into me. Dismay – because I
thought Max Devlin in his real life is a normal guy with (mostly)
normal vanilla tastes and desires. OK, he has the occasional
predilection for ornamentation. And everything that he does during
an Initiation is because he has been indoctrinated to do so as a
senior of Phi Kappa Omega.

Or so I would like to believe.

A lump comes to my throat.

“You don’t have to answer now, of course,”
he says. “You can sleep over it.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

My mind is exploding with the possibilities.
Max Devlin wants me to be a submissive again. Is this how it’s
going to be in our relationship? Just when I thought we were doing
so well. I have so many questions, and yet my tongue is frozen to
the roof of my mouth.

If he wants it – really, really wants it so
badly –

Me as a submissive. Again.

Oh God.

Do I want Max Devlin that badly? Do I want
him to keep on being my boyfriend?

The answer is as clear as daylight.

Yes.

I think I may even be falling for him. He
mustn’t know that. Not ever, ever, ever.

Oh my God.

“I’ll tell you later, Max.” My voice is
hoarse. I think I already know what my answer will be, but I still
need to sleep over it. Toss and turn and fret myself silly.

“OK.” He seems to be satisfied with
this.

We drive on for a few miles more before he
remarks, “You can say ‘no’ anytime, you know.”

“’No’?”

“During the submissive play. Even during
your Initiation, you always had that option.”

And lose out on Phi Kappa Omega? Yeah,
sure.

“Sometimes, it didn’t seem as if I was given
a choice,” I say slowly.

“Well, you always had a choice.”

If you say so.

“There’s a safe word you can use if you
don’t think you can take it anymore.” He glances at me, his bright
blue eyes full and alluring.

A safe word. Now he tells me.

“What is it?”

“You can choose your own.”

My mind goes blank all of a sudden.

“What did you have in mind?” I say.

He grins. “‘Yellow’.”

“Huh?”

“The word is ‘yellow’.”

This strikes me as funny for a reason.

“Why ‘yellow’?”

“It’s not normally a word that people would
say unless you have a reason. It’s not like ‘No’, or ‘Please
stop’.”

Yes, I get the drift.

“Unless you don’t like ‘yellow’,” he
hurriedly says. “You can choose any other word you like.”

“No, I’m fine with ‘yellow’.”

It’s clear to me that I’m on the verge of
agreeing. This bothers me for a reason. Am I really such a doormat?
Am I so afraid to lose Max Devlin if I don’t say ‘yes’?

Inwardly, I groan.

It rankles me how much I need Max Devlin.
The thought of losing this blond Adonis for any reason at all is
almost unbearable.

“Well, let’s meet my family,” he says.

“OK.”

I’m nervous as hell, but I try to maintain a
straight face for Max Devlin.

The man I’m head over heels in love
with.

2

Why am I madly in love with Max Devlin?