At home, the Queening stool now became a regular fixture in our evening schedule. Once Caroline settled on my face for the evening, she would happily spend two or three hours, watching TV while I gently worshipped her nether regions. I was occasionally allowed to masturbate myself, under my apron, but was rarely now asked to tongue her pussy. Instead, she had purchased a small vibrator which she used to stimulate her clit, whilst receiving my ministrations.
Next door, I was busy decorating a spare bedroom in Jennifer’s house. One morning, she entered the room wearing the most delectable ‘designer’ dress in a vivid shade of emerald. As usual, she wore high-heels and the sheerest black nylons.
“You’ve done such a good job today, Peter. Now, I know that we ladies can be very cruel at times. We simply can’t help it. Not with a man like you Peter. And you know very well that you deserve it, don’t you?” she stated.
“Thank you. Yes, Miss. I do my best to please.” I responded.
“Well, today, I am feeling generous. Caroline and I have discussed your little ‘fetishes’ at great length and I am going to give you a little reward. Come to my private parlour in ten minutes.
“Yes, Miss,” I panted.
Excited beyond belief, after a very long ten minutes, I knocked on her parlour door and was invited to enter. Jennifer was sitting, on the top of her desk, with her long shapely crossed nyloned legs on full display. She simply pointed a manicured finger to the ground at her feet. I fell to my knees and awaited her instructions.
“Peter, I know how erotic you find the sight of my lovely long legs. All men do, of course, but you are my special devotee. Obviously, I won’t ever allow you to touch them, but today, I will allow you to gaze on their perfection, while you have permission to masturbate your little penis.”
I blushed at the reality of her deep knowledge of my innermost weakness, but swiftly took out my over-used cock and, staring longingly at her majestic but forbidden femininity, began to wank myself off.
Tantalisingly, she slowly shifted position, to tease me even more. She knew exactly which subtle, demure, teasing, poses would take a fetishist to heaven.
“You are so weak, Peter. So perverted. Look at you, degrading yourself in front of a beautiful woman,” said Jennifer. “That’s it, look at my lovely long legs in their lovely sheer nylon. A man like you can only look, not touch.”
Though I tried to prolong the moment, all too soon, I was spurting my sperm forcefully in her direction. A tiny spec landed on her shoe.
“Well, aren’t we the big stud, Peter. Shooting your spunk for me like that. Now, come and lick that mess off my shoe!”
I lovingly bent to the task, gazing upwards in awe at the beautiful, smirking face of this goddess.
As she watched me, she reached forward, grabbed me by the hair and slapped me hard, twice, across the face.
“It’s OK, Peter. I’m not mad at you. I just felt like slapping you. You don’t mind, do you?” she said.
Rubbing my cheeks, “If it pleases you, Miss”.
On the following afternoon, back at home, Caroline had news for me.
“Marion has invited us to her home this evening Peter. Have a shower and make sure your body hair is fully removed, then put on that nice business suit you bought last year.”
“Yes, Mommy.”
Unsure about this turn of events, I recalled that it was Marion who had put several ‘femdom’ ideas into Caroline’s head. Nevertheless, I got ready as quickly as I could and met my wife in the hall, ready to depart.