Indentured to Wolfe – ebook



Indentured to Wolfe by Duncan Cusic

Miss Kimberly Jones will do anything to save her father from prison for embezzlement. Good thing she has just what the nasty and depraved Stephen Wolfe loves most – a hot young body, and a willingness to give herself to the man as his slave – as in, sign on the dotted line indentured slave. A nice and tidy arrangement for him, a world of hurt for her. Although she doesn’t know when she signs her life away for the next two years what being Wolfe’s slave really means. And it’s not just Kimberly. Wolfe employs her mother, Anastasia, as well, making use of her mother’s secret sex life to ensure her cooperation. To complete the arrangement, her father Jerome is sent to his ammunition plant and her sister, Audrey, is off to a boarding school for girls.

“What will you require of me?” Kimberly asks him. “What… what will…? What must I…?”
“Do? says Wolfe. “Anything and everything I say, instantly, happily. You’ll service my cock. I’ll loan you to others. I’ll certainly spank you.”

There’s no end to the humiliation, degradation and savage sex acts Kimberly is subjected to.
“It was like submitting to a whirlwind of the most immoral, perverted, hedonistic adventure in life and still craving more.”

Will Kimberly – indeed the whole Jones family – survive Wolfe’s perverted schemes? Can Kimberly provide breast milk for Wolfe? Will Anastasia sleep with dogs? What will happen to Jerome? You’ll have the read the book to find out.

Indentured to Wolfe sheds light on the adventures of the Jones family as they manage bondage, interracial coupling, hard discipline, group sex, multiple partners, doggy play, bisexuality, prostitution, and the rigors of pregnancy. Enjoy the ride! It’s a rough one.

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Cover Art Image © Charles Anthony –



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Through the unadorned rear window, late summer clouds blocked the sun, and a chill filtered into the room. Stephen Wolfe licked his lips, studied the young girl standing in front of his desk, and found himself aroused. At Forty years old, estranged from his wife, Wolfe had more money than he could spend and appeased his uncommon perversions with call girls. “I don’t know why you think I can do anything about this, Miss Jones?” he asked, the sternness in his voice unsettling.

Twenty years old Kimberly Ann Jones was not quite three years older than her sister, slender like her mother, and loose by reputation. Her mother was a stay at home mom, and her sister was a senior at Raymond high school. Wolfe Ammunition Company had employed her father for fifteen years. “You can do anything, Mr. Wolfe,” Kimberly mouthed a moment before Wolfe finished speaking.

“Like what? Let a thief go free.”

Even in three-inch heels, the girl was less than five and a half feet tall. Her waist was less wide than two spread hands and her hair was black and had the texture of Raven feathers. Bangs divided her forehead just above her eyebrows and a pony tail hung gathered at the crown of her head. Her eyes were brown; her face round, her skin the color of Saigon cinnamon and her mouth sculpted to cloud a man’s judgment. Below a purple silk blouse, her breasts swung free and her nipples popped out like sewing thimbles. Delicious was the word Wolfe considered as he noted the curve of her hips and the swell of her butt cheeks wrapped in a short white micro-mini-skirt. Why had she worn such high spiked heels? He wondered. Wolfe recalled the view as she tapped across the floor toward his desk. Had she dressed like a slut for his benefit?

“Please,” she said as if soliciting forgiveness from an unsuspecting teenage boy; a boy Wolfe wasn’t. A man like Wolfe didn’t forgive. He gauged his approach and planned each detail of conquest. The girl had fallen into a web spun by her father, and Wolfe intended to press the advantage.

Wolfe imagined Kimberly Jones on her knees, his cock stuffed in her mouth and her pointed little tongue curled to receive his pressurized offering. He imagined her throat flexing and the flick of her tongue as she swallowed his load, and then cleaned the remaining residue from his testicles. Did she not realize the effect she had on men? “A million; he embezzled from my company, Kimberly,” Wolfe attacked. “Your father belongs in prison.”

A corner of Kimberly Ann’s mouth twitched. She had telephoned her father’s accuser seven times before he agreed to see her and now he had just finished stating his position. “He did it for me, Mr. Wolfe,” she said.

“No, Miss Jones,” said Wolfe. “Your father did it because he’s a cheat and a thief. Did you know he cheats on your mother with my secretary most every day?”

Kimberly’s throat caught. “He wouldn’t.”

“I caught them on the floor of the conference room rutting like horny rabbits.” Wolfe flipped the intercom switch. His eyes came to rest on Kimberly’s braless chest. She has a fine set of titties, he thought. “In here Mrs. Clark,” he said.

The office door opened and then closed. “Yes sir,” answered the woman summoned. Elvira Clark had mischievous blue eyes, short brown hair, and breasts that defined top-heavy. Kimberly guessed her age was over thirty.

“You fuck Jerome’s black cock, Mrs. Clark?”

“Yes, sir…”

“Your husband knows…?”

“No sir.”

“Get out…”

“Yes, sir…”

A boss and his assistant carry charades to a conclusion. The office door opened and then closed. “There you have it, Miss Jones,” said Wolfe. “Your father is a thief AND a cheat.”

“He wasn’t responsible,” babbled Kimberly, offering an obvious falsehood.

“Bah,” shouted Wolfe. Wolfe abhorred lies. Wolfe never lied, though he couched the truth sometimes. “Cut the crap, Miss Jones.”

A wretched sound escaped Kimberly’s mouth, and her skin flushed with misery. She bowed her head. Her chin quivered, her lips parted, and tears rained on her cheeks. “He’ll die in prison, Mr. Wolfe. Oh, God…”

After Afghanistan, Wolfe rejected God. After he caught his wife fucking the paperboy, he rejected tears, and now he rejected Kimberly’s tears, too. “Your father should have considered the consequence,” he said. “I have no sympathy for him.”

“But… but… but,” Kimberly rasped. “You own the business! You can help if you wanted… You… you could… you could just… just let him pay it back or…”

Stephen Wolfe slammed his fist against the cherry wood desktop and leaned forward from the plush black leather of his chair. The plan begun a month ago fulminated. Of course, he could save her father if he chose, but he had not become rich by saving people. He became rich by enslaving people. Enslaving a teenage girl was risky; and given the current “Black Lives Matter” movement, enslaving a multi-racial teenage teaser was downright dangerous. Still properly trained, Kimberly Ann Jones offered an opportunity for spectacular satisfaction. Wolfe enjoyed taking risks. He became successful at taking risk, he became wealthy, accepting risk, and he had become important by managing risk. People catered to his whims. Men feared him and women groveled at his feet. Wolfe’s pulse quickened. He changed tactics. “Kimberly, child; he never could?”

Kimberly’s head came up. “But he could Mr. Wolfe. I heard my parents talking; you could take payments every month. They hope to borrow money this afternoon as well.”

“A half-million plus interest…? If your parents sold all their possessions and your father returned his paycheck to my company every week for the rest of his life, it still wouldn’t pay back what he took.”

“Please, Mr. Wolfe…”

“Did he send you to beg?”

“My father is not an evil man.”

“There are many good men in prison,” replied Wolfe. “This is his problem, not mine. I have no sympathy for him.”

“Then…” Kimberly sobbed. “Have sympathy for me; I’ll do anything to save him; my mom will too, and I have a sister.” Kimberly had come to Wolfe’s office to do anything, hadn’t she? She had dressed provocatively for anything. It is easy to do anything for a man like Stephen Wolfe, her mother had suggested. If I were as young and pretty as you, I’d do anything. Your father depends on your help.

Stephen Wolfe’s left eyebrow arched. “Are you seducing me, Miss Jones?”

“Momma said she would do anything if she were young. I’m not a child, Mr. Wolfe. I know about men.”

“So, your mother sent you?”

Kimberly appeared caught in suspension. She recalled sucking Billy Taylor’s cock for a quarter bag of cocaine, and she had used her beauty to get other things from other boys. This concession was no different. Beautiful people ruled, didn’t they? And beautiful girls took charge of even the handsomest of men. She determined to not only seduce Stephen Wolfe; she intended to conquer him. “I make my own decisions, Mr. Wolfe,” she said.

Stephen Wolfe snarled in Kimberly’s face. “So, you think a quick fuck will do the trick? Tell your skank ass mother it won’t and your asshole father to look forward to the sexual side of State prison.”

Kimberly stumbled backward, but caught her movement and stabilized. “Please, Mr. Wolfe; no one need know.”

“Know what, Miss Jones, that you’ll do anything?”

Kimberly nodded.

“I’ll demand everything.”

“Yes,” she answered.

Each time Kimberly had phoned, and he did nothing, the thought of enslaving her made his dick hard. And then… When she entered his office five minutes earlier wobbling like a penguin on stilts, his cock shaft turned into high grade chromium steel. Pre-ejaculate cock sauce moistened his briefs. Well taught and tenderized, little Miss Kimberly Ann Jones might become a lasting morsel at his table. Would she not be a stunning trophy? “Maybe we can work something out,” said Wolfe, “if you’re willing?”

Kimberly’s eyes gazed upward. “I could be your girlfriend.”

Wolfe laughed. “Girl friend…?”

“Your mistress…”

“My slave,” shouted Wolfe.

“Oh,” she said.

“Sex slave, Miss Jones…”

“Oh,” Kimberly Jones said. “Oh…”

“You’re not a virgin, are you? How many boys have you fucked?”

The F-Word, used callously, startled her and she almost ran from Wolfe’s office; instead, she stood firm. The F-Word might be a blessing, she thought; benefit her, if she was careful. “Jimmy Durban fucked me,” she replied. “I sucked off Billy Taylor for drugs, my math teacher felt my breasts for a grade increase, and I masturbated Mr. Arnold at Arnold Sporting Goods once a week to keep my cashier’s job.”

“And now you’re offering your body to me…”

“If you let my father go free…”

“Not free, but not in prison either,” snapped Wolfe.


“You’ll sign a contract?”

“Yes, Mr. Wolfe.”

“You on the pill…?” snapped Wolfe. “No brats unless I choose…”

“Mom doesn’t know.”

Wolfe changed focus; reengaged the intercom and shouted orders. “Personal service contract, Mrs. Clark; slide it under the door.”


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