Mr. Charles Carson had not seen his college freshman son for some time.  He knew the youngster was busy with studies and popular with the girls but still?  So, when Thomas called and said he was going to be home that afternoon, Charles was pleased.  It had gotten quite lonely without the boy, particularly since he turned eighteen and especially after Mr. Carson’s messy divorce.  Tom said a new lady-friend was bringing him, which made the visit even more anticipated.

Charles didn’t hear the rumble of the sleek Italian sports car pull into the portico of his mansion.  However, his butler announces the couple’s entry.  “Mr. Carson, Mr. Thomas and Lady Misty have arrived.” 

He hears the distinctive sound of high heels on the marble floor and looks up to see an incredibly stunning blonde bombshell glide through the doorway, followed by Tom.

Without hesitation, She crosses the room to the currently most shocked father on the planet.  Extending the back of Her hand, Ms. Misty purrs, “Sooo, this is the famous Miz-tar Car-soon.”  Looking at Her hand but unsure of actually touching this ravishing beauty, he babbles, “You may call me, ahh, Charles.” 

She gives him a beguiling smile, steps closer, and replies, “I prefer Charlie,” and before he can react, Her hands cradle his bearded face. Leaning down over the shorter male Ms. Misty gives him a fleeting kiss and repeats more firmly, “Charlie.”  Their eyes meet and fix on one another as he whispers, “Persistent, aren’t you?”

She taps the tip of his nose and softly chuckles, ”Try…Dominant.”  With that titillating comment, Ms. Misty pivots and intentionally brushes Charlie’s expensive dress slacks with Her fingers. 

He blurts, “What was that?”

A  mischievous grin graces Her drop-dead face as She saunters back toward Tom, “Base measurement.”  Mr. Carson, now Charlie, ogles Her ass cheek’s succulent undulations before they slither down onto a bench.  Ms. Misty flips aside the below-curving-buttocks length mane of platinum hair, pats the seat beside Her, and states, “Sit.” 

His son collapses down, and the “lady-friend” possessively places a hand on his thigh.  Her gaze surveys the posh living room and She offers casually, “Nice digs, Charlie.”  

He ignores Her taunting words but not Her terrific body as he inquires of Tom, “How are you doing, son.”

“Fine,” is his curt, raspy reply, looking sideways at Ms. Misty.

“Tommie’s a little under the weather.  Last night was wild, wasn’t it babe?” She emphasizes the word ‘wild’ letting her hand slide onto his inner thigh.  Charlie just cannot believe Her boldness, as he’s asked by Her again, “Your house. Tell Me about it.”

Mindlessly, he begins, “Well, its architecturally designed, award-winning, twelve thousand square feet, and ahh, ahh.”  The flustered male loses his thought seeing Ms. Misty lean an arm on Tom’s shoulder and bury Her tongue in his ear, then licks around his lob.  “Uhh, lots of space,” She coos, “for Me to use when I’m playing with Tommie.”  Then her long, patent leather-clad legs cross and She gives father a seductive sideways glance, “And, maybe Charlie, too.”

Now flabbergasted, Charlie snaps, “My wife will have lots to say about that!”

“Will it matter,” She retorts, “I highly doubt it.  She’s gone and Ms. Misty is here now.”

The audacity of this glamorous twenty-something vixen causes Charlie to raise his voice, “Listen, you, you little, ahh…”  Again, his thought is overwhelmed by the sight of Her twisting Her colossal body into profile, pulling Tommie’s hair so his head swivels into a French kiss that’s long and ferocious.  He’s like a rag doll in Ms. Misty’s grip.  She’s like a tigress yanking him about.

Finally, She ends the display of passion and whispers something to the blurry-eyed boy.  Tommie immediately drops to the floor and onto all fours.  Ms. Misty lifts both Her boots high up into the air and he crawls under them.  Then She lowers them into the small of his back and rubs shiny silver spurs back and forth across his silk shirt.  Looking directly at Charlie, who is aghast and speechless, She murmurs, “Good boy, Good boy.”

“Ohh, Thomas,” his agonized father whines.

“Now,” the quite obviously domineering she-devil begins, “Since I required this little get-together, I will speak first.”  She leans forward.  Her shimmering blouse falls open enough for the vanquished older man to glimpse down into the deep cleavage between Her massive breasts, “Tommie is MINE!”

“No, nooo,” Charlie groans, but abruptly She raises an arm and thrusts the palm of a hand at his face like a stop sign.  Silence ensues.  Ms. Misty’s face softens slightly, but She hisses, “Do not, I repeat, do Not interrupt Me.”  Tommie’s father glares at Her, yet he settles back in his chair meekly.

“I found him at a little under-age club I frequent.  Close to campus and My favorite meat market.”  Charlie is shaking his head in disbelief.  “Tommie was My favorite hunk that night.  I flirted with him, took him to the dance floor for some nasty grinding.”  She pauses to lower one of Her boots and let it disappear into his crotch.  His father begins quietly panting, which drives Ms. Misty on.

“Cute Tommie-boy got hot, really, really hot,” She smiles down on the human footstool and gives his full, shiny hairdo a tousle, and continues, “But I get lots of guys crazy hot. Some lose it in their jeans. Some I just snub, but this one…”  The cruel temptress giggles fiendishly, “This one was so deliciously big and so vulnerable that I had to have him.”

Both of Her boots move into the nether region of Tommie’s bent, separated legs.  His father doesn’t see this because he’s mesmerized by the blonde goddess humiliating his son in front of him. 

“I had him,” She exclaims, “ in My penthouse, up against the wall, on a couple sofas, in My toy room, on My riding bench and lots of times cuffed to My bed.”  Arrogantly, She sways Her torso, tossing Her hair about and causing leather and metal to rummage around in his groin.  Tommie moans audibly.

“Night to remember, humm, My bitch-boi?”  A nod of the head is his only response.

Father Charlie gasps almost incoherently, “What, what, why, why?”

Ms. Misty rocks back and suddenly, gracefully ascends to a standing position over her captured young prey.  “Go to your room, darling.  I’ll join you after I finish with Charlie.”  She steps over his slinking form and hesitates as Tommie leans and kisses each one of the glossy boots placed in his path before scurrying away.

Ms. Misty takes two swift strides and is in front of Charlie.  She towers over his quivering body and slides hands onto Her slippery, curvaceous hips.  He gives a weak attempt to stand, but Her grasp on his shoulders brings him smartly back down onto the chair.

“Now, little, rich man, listen,” She proclaims, gripping his chin and forcing his face upward and his gaze directly at the taut black leather stretched across Her pussy.  “I am a professional domme.  I have lots of wimpy slave boys like you in My possession.  Do you understand?”

“Dom, domin, a, a,trix,” he stammers, staring at the zipper that must cost men their fortunes to access.

“Yup,” She snaps, “and the fucking best in all of the city.”  Slowly, She releases Her fingers and Charlie finds himself floating in the intoxicating fragrance emanating from Her luscious being.  “But beyond My work, in My playtime, I like to score young things like your son.  They are so very easy. So very randy.  So very obedient after a week or so of mind-blowing sex that’s rougher and kinkier than they’ve ever fantasized.”

Charlie can hardly find the strength not to extend his tongue to the shimmering, beckoning leather, as Mistress Misty continues.

“Tommie’s My current hunk and one of the more generous of My many,” She vainly muses, “I have a new, shiny Lambo parked in your drive, thanks to your cute son.  You can admire it before I leave.”  Suddenly, a mane of luxurious blonde tresses swirls in his face as She turns, “Maybe I’ll take you for a ride, umm?”  Her glorious ass settles inches from his dry lips and open mouth.

“Wanna, Charlie?  Beg Me, if yah wanna, Charlie,” She teases in rhythm with the grinding movements of Her lower torso.  Her mane swishes back and forth hypnotically.  Her hips ride up and down majestically. “Show Me that you want Me to take you. Show Mistress Misty.”  This torture lasts for untold minutes.

The cultured gentleman that existed only moments ago has vanished.  That person would never, ever, carefully place his hands on a seductively swiveling female posterior.  That person would most definitely not touch his lips to the deep crevice in between full, firm globes of desire.  But Charlie does.

“Replenish Tommie’s college allowance tonight.  He spent it all on My car.” He hears from somewhere above. Then fingers run into his sparse hair and lift him backwards. “I’ll be spending more time here, won’t I?”

That question needs no reply.  Of course, Mistress Misty will.  With two thralls to enjoy and a fortune to drain, why not?

The bewitching Amazon takes a few short strides forward and glances back over Her shoulder at the pleading face and tearful eyes.  “I’ll do some Tommie and then come back down for some Charlie, yes?”

Please, yes, pleezzz.” 

Mistress Misty scores again, and again…