In the Car: James

After breakfast and preparations, we were in my car on the way to Marta’s condo. She was, once again, naked under my sweat shirt and sweat pants as she had removed her tight, short dress when we returned from dinner the night before, and dropped it in the car, walking naked up to my condo.

When I asked her what she wanted me to wear to start my afternoon as her submissive, she had said she didn’t care, as she wanted to rip my clothes off of me once we were in her condo. As a result, I was wearing clothes I didn’t care about.

Marta was exceptionally fidgety. She kept touching me, especially putting her hand on my thigh just outside of my groin, then snatching it away again. She was either jittering or shaking, I’m not sure which, and was carefully looking out the front window, and studiously not looking at me.

She was behaving a like a kid twenty minutes before it was time to go downstairs and open Christmas presents.

I was immensely flattered by her desire to possess me, physically, but also bemused.

Our relationship – as lovers and as friends, as well as my Master and to her slave – had blossomed with incredible speed. In that same period of time, she had formed an intense attachment to me, saying that only as my slave did she feel safe. At one point, she had said if I did not accept her as my slave, she would kill herself.

Since she had been deeply involved in self-harm when I met her, I had to take her seriously. But I found it both incredibly unsettling to have this beautiful genius demanding to be my sex slave – and also, and unsurprisingly, incredibly exciting!

So, I had no idea what she has planned for the afternoon. And I’m not sure she had, either. I have found being her Master to be very difficult, a burden. One that I am more than willing to shoulder, it’s true, but still a burden. Responsibility for her safety, happiness, and welfare, not to mention her sexual satisfaction, all fall squarely on my shoulders.

I wonder how she will respond to the implicit challenge of being in charge. I don't underestimate her. She is undoubtedly smarter than I am. In fact, she is one of the smartest people alive. But that kind of smart is not the same as thinking through all the implications of various sexual acts and D/s scenes.

I'm eager to find out what she had in store, but will have to keep reminding myself not to try to take over, as was my natural inclination.

I parked in the underground parking lot in a visitor’s space. The car had barely stopped moving when Marta unclipped her seat belt, yanked open the door, and jumped out of the car. “Come on!” she shouted and scampered over to the elevator, nervously mashing the call button.

I quickly climbed out, closed both doors, and locked the car, then walked briskly to the elevator. By the time I got there, she was holding the door and trying to hurry me, having already pushed the button for her floor.

We got there without any other stops, and when the doors started to open, she slithered through the gap, and loped down the hall to her door – only to come to a sudden halt.

“I forgot the key!”

I walked towards her, holding up my copy of her key. She grabbed it out of my hand, then botched the job of putting it in the lock. In frustration, she thrust the key back to me. I gently moved her aside, unlocked the door and opened it.

She shoved me inside, slammed the door shut and locked it, then turned to me, pulling at my coat, then pushing it off me, letting it fall on the floor. Then she grabbed my shirt front with both hands, and tore the two halves apart, sending the buttons flying. One button, the lowest one, remained, so she grabbed my shirt lower down and yanked, but bunched the fabric in the process so the button refused to budge.

I held my hand up and pulled my shirt over my head, handing it to her. She threw it on the ground, then started scrabbling at my belt, finally getting it unclasped, then tried to pull my jeans apart as she had my shirt.

That was never going to work as the denim is too strong. I again intervened, undid the button, and started the zip down, then held my hands up to my shoulders as if she was holding a gun on me. By this time I was laughing. It struck me as hilarious that she was so eager to “have her way with me!”

She pulled my zipper the remaining way down, and pushed my jeans to the floor, then put her hands on both sides of my briefs, and shoved them down to the floor as well, releasing my rock-hard erection.

In a frenzy, she yanked the sweat shirt over her head, tossing it carelessly away. She then shoved the sweat pants down to her ankles, and almost tripped trying to step out of them. Hopping on first one foot, then the other, she wiped the sweat pants off her legs, then turned towards me.

While she was getting out of her sweats, I pushed my briefs and jeans off my legs, so I was standing naked before her, hands at my sides now, smiling broadly.

She’s slightly taller than I am, but got up on her tip-toes, straddled her legs around my cock, closed them tight, capturing me between her legs. Her pussy was dripping wet, and having it enfold my cock was making me wet. She hugged me hard, then turned her head and whispered in my ear, "I want you inside me, as deeply as you can. And hurry!"

I broke her embrace, took her hand, and led her across the entry hall into the living room. Next to a breakfast bar adjoining the kitchen were three bar stools. I leaned my ass against one, then turned and grabbed her under her arms, lifting her high above me, which surprised her. I slowly lowered her down – and she got it. Spreading her legs wide, she wrapped them around my back, then reached down and fitted my cock into her pussy. Her weight now forced her down hard onto me, putting us together, face-to-face, so I was fucking her while standing.

As I entered her, she arched her back, closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and moaned loudly. She held her hands around my neck while I held mine around her waist. Her cunt was molten, tight, and slippery. I think she might have cum very quickly even if I had held still.

But I wasn't done.

I moved my arms up, pushing her legs, one at a time, up over my shoulders so that her thighs ran up the front of my chest, and her knees were either side of my neck while I hugged her body to me. This meant my cock was as deep inside of her as it was possible to be, with her weight pulling her down, with me hard inside. I could feel the tip of my cock ramming up against her cervix.

She cried out as was her body forced itself down onto my cock, and I could feel her start to tremble. Breathing hard, she rapidly started to pump, pulling herself up, then relaxing her legs and her arms and slipping down again. I helped by putting my hands under her ass, sliding her up, then letting her body slide down again, slamming my cock into her again and again. She started groaning more loudly with each thrust, and the pitch of her voice started going higher and higher, finally rising into a prolonged scream while her whole body went rigid as she came, hard.

I held her tightly around the waist now, until finally she went limp, head lolling to one side. I slowly lowered her to the ground and my cock slipped out of her. She seemed as if she had fainted. I leaned over, bent my knees, lifted her up, and carried her, like a rag doll, into the bedroom.

Her body felt warm, and wonderful, and I was reminded all over again how much I had come to love this woman.

I gently laid her on the bedspread, then knelt down next next to the bed.

There was a smile on her face, even though her eyes were closed. She looked dreamy and contented. She opened her eyes, turned and looked at me, and said, “Hello, my sexy, wonderful, fuckable slave.”

I smiled at her, bowed my head, and said, “My Mistress. How may I serve you?”

She leaned up on her elbow, stretched over to kiss me, then said, “I want you to worship me, slave.”

I bowed my head, smiling where she couldn’t see me. She turned towards me, and swung her feet over the side of the bed and spread her legs wide, capturing my head between them.

“Worship my cunt, slave, and make me cum again.” She smiled broadly, as this was something I had suggested – that I be forced to eat her pussy. She wrapped her hands in my hair and pulled.

I leaned forward, putting my hands on her hips, then around her buttocks, and used my tongue to spread her already cum-filled, sopping, engorged pussy.

“Put your hands behind you, slave!”

I did so, and nuzzled my face even further into her. She closed her legs around me, putting light pressure on my head, so I used the sides of my face to rub the insides of her legs, turning my head left and right, and rubbing my stubble gently in the sensitive parts of her thighs. Meanwhile, I continued to slowly lick and suck the outside of her vulva. I studiously avoided her clitoris and her inner lips, making a meal of her puffy outer lips.

She was moaning and moving her hips, seemingly trying to fuck my face. She finally succumbed to frustration, and pulled my head roughly into her.

Smiling to myself, I went right to the goal, noisily slurping inside her, lapping my tongue up her inner lips, up to her clit, then lavishing attention on that, then slurping down again, then burrowing as far into her cunt as my tongue could reach, then repeating.

It didn’t take long. She had already been highly aroused when we arrived, came shortly after that, and was still riding on the waves of that earlier climax. I couldn’t hear her very well because her legs were trapping my ears, but she started bucking and straining upwards. Finally, I heard a high-pitched cry, and her whole body tensed. My head was squeezed tight in the vice of her legs.

My erection was like steel between my legs. I loved making her cum. If I had to choose, I would make her cum over and over again, even if it meant I couldn’t, it was that erotic. I rode her, keeping my tongue pressed firmly against her clit, but trying not to massage it, merely to keep its warmth pressed against her as she started thrashing about in the throes of what seemed to be a massive orgasm.

Finally, she pushed me away. “Too much! Too much! Stop, please, stop”

I could hear again as she released my head from the vice hold of her legs.

She had dropped back onto the bed. I moved up, pushing her legs up onto the bed, then lay beside her. I gently stroked and smoothed my hand along her body, up to, but not touching, her nipples, down to her waist, across but below her waist to the other side, up the sides of her torso to her shoulders, then back again. She shivered from time-to-time when I stroked a sensitive area.

I leaned forward and lightly kissed and licked her nipples, first one, then the other. She shivered again, opened her eyes, smiled at me, and said, “Kiss me, please, James.”

I smiled back at her, and leaned in, stopping just short of her lips. Her tongue reached out and touched my lips, then she leaned up and opened her mouth, turned slightly sideways, and licked across my lips, tasting herself there.

I leaned in further, and gently, gently kissed her. She matched my gentleness, then reached for the back of my head, and pulled my me down to her. Our kiss grew and grew in passion, until we were making out like teenagers in the backseat of daddy’s car.

I put my arms under her shoulderrs and pulled her up to me so that we met in a full-body hug, her top leg twining over my back, and pulling me towards her.

“Come inside me,” she whispered.

“Yes, Mistress,” I whispered back.

She rolled onto her back and opened her legs to me. I was careful not to press myself to heavily on her, then slowly and gently slipped my cock inside her. Once I was inside, I rolled over, pulling her with me, so that she was on top. “You are my Mistress, and I serve at your pleasure, ” and smiled up at her.

She lifted her head, and set it on her hand to one side, resting on her elbow and looking at me with a knowing smile. Then she leaned down and said into my ear, “I am your Mistress – and your slave. And I love you.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I had hoped to hear those words from her – and now I had.

I put my arms all the way around her, and hugged her fiercely, rocking slightly from side-to-side, overcome with emotion. Tears started leaking down the sides of my face. It was wonderful.

Eventually, after a long, loving time, she sat up into cowgirl and started to rock, taking me in and out of her. She moved slowly at first, and we both just enjoyed the sensation, the friction of her moving on and off my cock as I lay still, passive.

Gradually, we both started to feel more and more urgency, until finally we were pushing hard, mashing our bodies together, moaning loudly. We came together, as far as I could tell, in a spectacular, noisy climax that must have woken neighbors, shattered glass, and frightened small animals for miles around.

She fell forward onto me, both of us panting hard, until we spontaneously started laughing uncontrollably. We laughed until it hurt, tears streaming from our eyes. She rolled off me then. I put my left arm out, and she rolled into it, and we hugged, kissing lightly, lots of little butterfly kisses.

Finally, we stopped, and just lay in each other’s arms. Eventually she said, “I’m getting cold.” I rolled off the bed, pulled back the cover until it met her body and let it drop. She moved over into the bed, underneath the covers, and I tucked her up. Then I went off to the bathroom, returning with tissues for her pussy and wiping my cock clean so it didn’t leave a snail trail in her bed.

Then I went to the other side of the bed, flipped the covers back – to which she said, “Don’t let the cold air in!” I dropped my body onto the mattress, and pulled the covers over me, then snuggled over to her. She rolled over and we made spoons while I kissed the back of her neck and upper back.

She reached back with her hand and stroked my head.

We dozed.

Mistress: Marta

I woke when I felt James move, and stretched, feeling languorous and oh, soooo good. I felt as if weeks of tension had suddenly been removed, and resolved to cheat my way to being his Domme on a regular basis, even though I mostly wanted to be James’ slave.

I turned to see him smiling at me. “My Lady. How may I serve you?”

I thought for a moment, and then an exciting idea hit me. “Where are your collar and cuffs?” I asked.

His smile broadened, and he replied, “Well, I just so happen to have brought them, on the off-chance that somebody might want to use them.”

He got up, padded out to the entry way, and returned with a leather box. He went down on one knee, and offered the box to me, bowing his head and waiting.

I lazily turned and sat up, legs over the side of the bed, and said, “Open it.” He did, showing my four cuffs, plus the dog collar, but without the dog tag that said “I AM A SLUT, A CUNT, AND A COCKSUCKER.” He had obviously thought this through ahead of time. No surprise there. He had started and run a multi-billion-dollar company after all.

I picked up the dog collar, and undid it. Something itched at the back of my head, as if I was being tickled by something. I shrugged, as if flicking an insect away. “Turn, and go on both knees, slave,” I said harshly, using my best Dr. Rabinovich-is-annoyed voice.

James set the box down, then turned around, facing away from me. He went down on both knees, and bowed his head forward, put his palms flat on his thighs, and prepared to accept the collar.

I opened the collar, and started to put it around his neck, then stopped. Something felt wrong, and my stomach started churning. I shook my head to clear it, placed the collar around his neck, and, with suddenly fumbling fingers, finally got the clasp done. I picked up the padlock, and found that my hands were shaking.

I opened the lock, and moved it towards the D-ring on the hasp – and found I could not insert the tang of the lock into the D-ring. I looked at the lock, the collar, and James’ downturned head, then dropped the lock, fell forward onto the carpet on my hands and knees, and almost threw up, feeling intensely ill.

James was immediately next to me, turning me and cradling my head in his lap. “Marta, what’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, I don’t know!”

He sat with my head in his lap, stoking my hair, and saying, “I think we should get you to a doctor.” Concern played across his features.

“I can’t breathe!” I panicked. Then it hit me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the collar. “Take off the collar. Please – take it off!”

James looked puzzled, but slowly reached up, and after turning the collar, undid it. He placed it back on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

I closed my eyes and turned away. “I’m so sorry. This was wrong.”

Silence, then, “What was wrong, beloved?”

“I must wear the collar, not you. I must be the slave, not you! I’m so sorry, my Lord, forgive me.”

Master Again: James

I was stunned. I knew the human mind was complex, but we were clearly in what was, at least for me, uncharted territory.

I smoothed her hair, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. She avoided my eyes, looking down.

“Please, my Lord, please may I have my collar and cuffs back?”

I was silent for a moment, then said, “We will do whatever you want, my dear one. May I talk with you about this?”

She was silent, still refusing to look at me, then said, in a small voice, “My lord, you may do whatever you want with me.”

It broke my heart, but I had to respond. I was, after all, responsible.

“Will you feel better if I put your collar back on you?”

“Yes, my Lord. Please.”

Reluctantly, I picked up the collar from the bed, and gently placed it around her neck, then fastened the clasp closed.

“My Lord, will you please lock it as well? Please?”

I picked up the lock, fitted into the D-ring, and clicked it shut.

She sighed deeply, then turned her head to me, looked me in the eyes and smiled sadly. “I feel safe now. I didn’t before, especially when you had the collar on. Forgive me, my Lord. I have troubled you. I’m sorry.”

I leaned down and kissed her. “The only trouble you have caused is to worry me that I did something wrong.” I smiled down at her, and asked, not for the first time, “What am I going to do with you?”

There was a pause, then her smile broadened, and she opened her knees wide, invitingly, just as she had on the evening when she had bound herself, blindfolded, naked, and helpless, outside my door two weeks ago.

And as I did then, I laughed, then stretched forward and kissed her blond bush. “Yes, but later. For now, we have another problem to solve.”

She looked relieved, then puzzled. “What is that, my Lord?”

“Can we tone down the ‘my Lord’ stuff for a while? The problem is that I promised you that I would be your slave for this afternoon. I will not break my promise to you. What shall we do about that?”

“You don’t need to…”

I interrupted her, “You didn’t hear me. I will not break my promise to you. Given that, do you have any thoughts? Is there anything you would like to do with me, or to me, or have me do for you?”

Marta looked crestfallen for a moment, then thoughtful – and then her face lit up. “May I ask what limitations there are?”

I looked at her suspiciously, but said, “Anything you want, my Lady. Anything at all.”

She almost clapped her hands in glee. “Okay! Wait here!”

And she scampered out of the room, again like a kid at Christmas.

I had a very bad feeling about this. But I had promised her, so…

I thought I heard her talking to someone on the phone. Ordering something, perhaps?

There was a long interval when nothing happened, and I got the distinct feeling that Marta was staying away in order to avoid telling me what was going on. I cleaned up and re-made the bed, went to the bathroom, drank some water, got back into bed, and pulled the covers up to avoid getting cold. And waited.

Eventually, I heard a faint knock on the front door, and the door quickly opened, then shut again. I thought I heard whispering, but wasn’t sure. There was another pause, then Marta walked back into the room.

“Sir, would you please come over and stand by me?”

Marta was wearing a very sexy, almost diaphanous, black teddy which covered nothing, emphasized her platinum blond coloring, and showed off her slim figure, her tits, and her pussy. It also set off her black leather dog collar.

I wasn’t wearing anything. I got out of bed, slightly aroused and confused, as I walked over to where she was standing, well inside the bedroom door.

Then the door swung open, and I was shocked to see a very tall, slim-figured woman with lustrous, long, brunette hair. She was well over six feet tall, and towered over Marta. Who the hell was she? And what was she doing here?

Yet, she looked familiar. Where had I seen her before?

Then suddenly I knew: it was the too-tall, seventeen-year-old teenager, Sammi I think her name was, who had helped Marta dress for supper on Saturday.

And she was stark naked.

She walked over, knelt down before me, bowed her head, palms flat on her thighs, and said, “Sir, Marta has invited me to be her slave. And as she is your slave, she has commanded me to offer myself to you for whatever your pleasure may be.”

She looked up at me with big, shining eyes, and smiled eagerly. “I will do anything you want, my Master. Anything at all.”

Then she leaned forward, and opened her smile, took in as much of my penis as she could, gently closing her hot, wet, willing mouth around my stiffening cock, still smiling up at me. She held me deeply in her throat, eyes twinkling. Marta walked over, placed her hand on Sammi’s head, smoothed her hand over the girl's hair, and smiled a smug, self-satisfied smile at me.

"Well, my Lord? What's your pleasure?"

To be continued…

Note: Some of the background of this story can be found earlier in the story, specifically in Chapters 4 and 10.  – JLG