HUH?

"Simone" and "Sam" have been forced to go on the Lam, after some sloppy security work exposed them to their potential "enemies". Fortunately, they've found help through the SBPP.
("Sex Bloggers Protection Program"). Follow their adventures here until its safe for them to resume their prior alter-egos.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Fiction Friday: Mistress's Rendezvous


(A break from our usual programming. A story. It's made up stuff. The names and places are figments of imagination....aren't they?)

The cell trilled on my desk. I was across the room, pensive. Looking out across the City, from my 25th floor perch.

Of course, I knew Mistress’s ring. But why? She had just left only 15 minutes earlier. I could still taste her on my lips and tongue.

And she was a sight. Smokey black stockings. A black suit just shorter than appropriate for a workday in River City. If she leaned over those stocking tops would catch a few wandering eyes. When I raised an eye at her outfit, she confessed she had been instructed to dress “slutty”. So she had.

 I lurched for the phone, knowing she was just across the street. Didn’t he show?  The thought of an aborted “mission” with her new “Sir” sent an agonizing mixture of relief and disappointment through me.

“Yes Mistress?”, I answered, unsuccessfully trying to draw on my Mr. Cool, professional voice.

“He wants to meet you.”

“Why?”

Avoiding an answer, she murmured, “You know where we are.  Come over. Now. Please.” I couldn’t read her voice. Not scared. Embarassed? Maybe. He must have been sitting right next to her.

“Yes, Mistress”, I mumbled, but the connection was already closed. I had my orders.

I slipped on my jacket. Pocketed the phone, hustled to the elevator bank. I nodded off greetings from the regulars behind the security desk, no time to chat, then spun through the doors and jaywalked across the street to the little boutique hotel where I knew I would find her.

I spotted them in a booth in the Bar area, relatively empty at mid day, near the back. Discrete.

He was as she had described. A bit younger than me.  Fit looking.  Heavy wool blue blazer and tie.  Costumed as you would expect a tenured faculty member at one of those small Colleges spread through the heartland. His was not far from our town.

They had stumbled upon one another over the internet. She had decided to exploit her rights under our contract – the right to take other lovers – and he was offering to scratch that itch she had to walk on the submissive side for a change.

I had asked only for the right to know what was going on. “Don’t leave me wondering”, I had asked. And in truth she knew that sharing some of the details of her budding flirtation seemed to throw fuel on our already incendiary sex life.

Mistress had shown me some of their steamy texts. Their sordid emails. Told me about some of the calls. How he persuaded her to touch herself. Then denied her “permission”,  until she had to beg.  I could tell she was hooked. And he was reeling her in slowly, diabolically.

They had met once before. An interview, she called it. He was a gentleman. She must have passed muster. But this was the day.  He expected her to submit. “Completely”, he had required. She agreed. Could not do anything else by then. She was lost.

But both of  us were anxious. What did he mean by “complete” submission. She had some ideas about what to expect. He was plain about his own needs. She would be in her knees. Bound. Require to Beg. There were some understandings between them. But still…

They sat opposite one another. I could tell she was uneasy.  Squirmy in her seat. As I approached, they rose. “Mick, this is Robert”, she said, avoiding eye contact. We shook hands briefly. Hard to touch him, knowing he would soon be touching her. And that she wanted that touch.

He indicated I should sit down,  next to my Mistress. My hand draped under  the table over her lap, reaching for and clutching her hand. Hard.  She seemed as wired as I was.

“So you’re Molly’s Slave?

“That’s me”. It’s not something I had publicly admitted to anyone in person before. I could feel the blood rushing to my face. The humiliation had begin.


“She’s told me about you. And of course, there’s your blog. Interesting stuff.”

“Yes. She requires it. It’s my daily homework.”


“You understand that Molly is here to submit to my control, don’t you?” The small talk was over.

“Yes, I understand that’s why she’s here.” I squeezed her hand tighter. Looking at her. She, glanced at me, blushing, then looked away.

“She’s agreed to be mine, at least when we can arrange to be together. just like you are her Slave, she is now mine. Isn’t that right, Molly.”

Molly nodded. He looked at her, a flash in his eyes.

“Yes, Sir. I will be – am - your Slave.”

“That’s better.  And Mick, you have no problem with that do you?”

“That’s her right, under our contract.”

“Of course it is”. He smiled. Smug asshole. I didn’t like him. Not that it mattered.

“Are you wearing your cage today, Mick?”

Another blush of humiliation crossed my face.

“Yes, it’s on.”

“Where’s the key, Molly?”

“At home.”

“Good. …. Well it’s good to know we all understand one another. Molly, nowcome sit next to me here.”, he said, patting the space next to him in the leather upholstered booth.

It took a moment for his order to sink in. I slowly loosened my grip on her hand. As Molly rose, I caught a glimpse of those magnificent legs and the tops of her stockings. Argh. Why had I agreed to this, to the contract?

She slid in beside him and he quickly closed the space between them. I could see his hand moving to her lap, but could not see exactly where he had placed it. There was the rustle of her stockings pressing against one another.

“Molly is a dream Mick. Quite a girl. I am lucky to have her, don’t you think?”

“Of course. I love her. She’s everything to me.”


‘Well I promise to take good care of her….and train her well. She might learn a few things to make her a better Mistress. Though probably more demanding. Stricter. She is pretty easy on you, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is. “

“Well that may change. Slave’s need a firm hand. Don’t you agree, pet?”

By now I could sense his hands moving on Mistress’s lap, and her breathing seemed a bit more labored.

“Yes…Sir.” She gasped. Startled by something, no doubt that hand hidden from me.



“Spread your legs a bit, Molly”, he instructed.

She looked at him, embarrassed. Eyes pleading.

“No. Not hear, Not in front of him.” She seemed sad, desperate.

“Didn’t you agree to submit…. completely?”

His hand had not pulled away, but held its position.

“Yes”, she conceded. Surrendering.

I could tell Mistress was aroused, almost broken. She shifted in her seat. I knew her legs were opening. I imagined how his fingers were caressing her. Taking her down. Then I heard her stifled gasp, the sound she makes when she is oh so very close.  Her eyes were closed, head pressed against the back of the booth.

But she was holding back. For me? No, for him.

“You can’t come without my permission, Pet. You understand that don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir”. Her head was down. She wouldn’t look at either one of us. But I could tell she was desperate.

“Do you want to come now, Molly”.

“Yes….Please. Please”,  she moaned squirmed, trying to conceal her desperation from the post lunch stragglers mingling at the Bar. I swear I could smell her arousal in the air.

I was in agony for her. Wanted to help. But she was in his hands now. And it was then I noticed that my own cock was hardening, pressing against the steel cage. Crazy.

Suddenly, he pulled his hand away. She moaned, startled to have been abandoned.

“Maybe we should let Mick get back to work now.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, extracting a thin piece of cord.

“Slide off your jacket, dear”. She was startled. Shook her head.

“Don’t make me ask again…you are already due a punishment.”

Mistress gave in again. She shrugged out of her jacket, and he turned her, gathering her wrists behind her, crossing them, binding them.

“It’s what you want right?” Mistress just nodded, head down, face buried in her flowing dark hair. He slid the jacket over her shoulders.

“Keep your arms up high and no one will notice. Not that I really care if they do,” he chuckled.

They rose. He steadied her.  Took her by the elbow.

“Later, Mick”, he said over his shoulder as they stepped away from the table. She just looked at me, then turned toward him. Leaning into him.

I sat there. Watched them walk across the lobby toward the elevator bank, aching inside that cage, wondering when I would get her back; who I would get back.









1 comment:

nilla said...

RAWR!!!! Now that was fawking hawt stuff!!!

**BRAVO*!!!

nilla
squirming in her seat
mmmmm