0 comments/ 17708 views/ 0 favorites City Of Angels Ch. 1 By: Sunqueen Quite unexpectedly, as I walked by the TV set one Sunday afternoon, I caught a glimpse of an extraordinarily sexy man being interviewed. "Oh, my," I murmured, like Susan Sarandon in Bull Durham except throatier with more evil intentions. My roommate noticed my frenzied exit to my bedroom. "Hey Beavis, she shouted, using the code name we had for each other when we got too infantile or horny, "lock the door if you're wanking off in there." After I finished pleasuring myself, I discovered who had got me so hot in only a 10 second clip. Doreen, my roommate, told me he was a musician who had been a minor rock star about 20 years ago. I vaguely recalled the name. Save for a goofy article I remembered reading in the National Enquirer about him swindling some model, I didn't know anything about him. But if he got me as hot in person as his TV image did, I vowed to give him the best sex of his life. Doreen and her friends counseled me on where to met him. After being raised on classical music with a dash of Miles Davis and Sarah Vaughn, I had little knowledge of rock n roll M.O. Doreen recommended a club he often frequented. I sat at the bar, with the intent purpose of seducing him. I knew he'd be an easy lay from all the stories I'd heard. I knew he'd show up, though I didn't expect him to be there so early. He held court at the back of the club, by the dressing room, carousing with two girls who looked like they were barely out of high school. I'd struck up quite a conversation with the bartender, who seemed to like me and had given me a free drink. Once I saw Michael, though, it was hard to concentrate on anyone else. My eyes must have burnt holes through him cause a minute later he walked up to the bar. He pulled up a bar stool and sat down, not taking his eyes off me. "Its not polite to stare." "Was I staring? I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude." "That’s quite all right. I rather like a sassy woman. What's your name, love?" "Vanessa." He kissed my hand. "Come with me, Vanessa." He took me into a room in the back of the club where we could talk without screaming over the jukebox. We exchanged idle what do you do chit-chat for a few minutes, while our body language indicated much more. I ran my fingers through his hair as he told me about a guitar he'd just bought. He lifted me onto his lap while I told him about the movie set I was designing. I could feel his thick cock straining through his jeans. He took me to his house in the hills. It was small by Hollywood standards, and tucked away in a remote corner with a breathtaking view of the city. Neither one of us had the strength left to unlock the door and get inside before we fucked. I peeled off his jeans and straddled him, watching his face contort with nasty satisfaction, bathed in the red light that illuminated his doorway. The three a.m. lights of Los Angeles shimmered below us. We finally made it inside, where we left a trail of cum, pussy juice, baby oil, and sex everywhere in his domicile. When we stumbled outside the next morning, the whole house, not only the bed, reeked of sex. Now that we had fucked the hell out of each other, it was time for the games to start. He slipped into the front seat of his Jag. "Get in the back seat and leave your sunglasses on. " "Is that an order?" Just sit there, look hot and don't say anything." In nothing but sunglasses and jeans, he looked exactly as he had when I'd seen him on the telly the first time. Of course, I never told him about my initial masturbation. It was better to let him think he discovered me. He watched me, amazed at my every move.. I pulled his jeans down…he opened his mouth ready to speak and I shushed him. I studied him, beautiful just like I had envisioned him. Better than a statue by his swimming pool that perfect, that on target. I sucked his cock, taking him in as far as I could, enjoying him, feeling him squirm and moan. The guttural moans that crept up from his throat were as scorching as the taste of his cock in my mouth. "All right, suck me hard, sweet thing." I marveled in the thick shot of cum that covered my face. I licked some of it, and let the rest drip down on my tits, rubbing it in my skin delightedly. The hot noonday sun felt so good beaming down on my naked, cum-drenched body. I hated to shower and slip into clothes before he drove me home, but it was a necessary evil. Of course I hadn't known for sure that I'd be up in his house, fucking him as the lights of L..A. shimmered below, so I had no cadre of supplies. That was reserved for the sequels. The sequels began the next week. He met me at a Beverly Hills café. Normally, I hated such pomp and circumstance but he seemed comfortable there and the staff knew him. Luckily, my accouterments fit nicely in my purse, so he had no idea what he was in for. Once we got to his place, I took action immediately. "Sit on the bed up against the headboard - that’s it." The scarves are in the dresser drawer." "I don’t need scarves..and did I tell you to speak?" By now his amazement was tempered with fear. "What is this some damn Sharon Stone movie. " "No hon, it’s the real thing" "You see these" I held up the studded leather straps. He laughed "Oh, is that all." He wasn't laughing after I set to work, tugging on his muscular arms to make sure he knew I meant business, that he was tied in tight enough. "The problem is that no woman has ever disciplined you. I'll put an end to that." Oh sure his little chicky babies had done his bidding, but could he handle a woman? "What are you gonna do to me?" "I can see you're looking forward to it." He had a gorgeous erection, so full and playful "He just keeps getting bigger, don’t he?" I laughed "Suck me." He growled. "I give the orders around here." I knelt between his legs and coyly fingered him to relieve a little tension. He smiled droplets of sweat beaded his forehead. When I saw that he had relaxed I spit on his cock and rubbed it between my gloved fingers, squeezing it and tonguing the tip. He bounced wildly on the bed. "Put it in your pussy NOW." He growled. I slapped him. "I am your mistress. You speak to me with respect." He stared at me, silent and seething, then he relented. "Its for your own good, my sweet slave." "Please, mistress," he pleaded breathlessly, "fuck me." "That’s much better," I said. I unhooked my thong and straddled him, guiding his cock inside me. My pussy was dripping wet with juice, like a waterfall. Just seeing him tied up, sweaty and hard as rock proved that what I had seen on TV screen was no illusion. His cock would give me boundless pleasure. I rode him hard, and untied him after he showered me with his cum. He fell asleep in my arms, a smiling little slave. To Be Continued... City Of Angels Ch. 2 Life in L.A. is tricky. I know most people think all Angelenos do is hang out by the pool and have pedicures, but such is not my reality. After my initial night with my slave, Michael, we didn’t see each other for a few weeks. I was busy on the set, dealing with a particularly complicated medieval drama; I assumed he was recording or writing. It occurred to me that he might have gone on tour without telling me. If that was the case. I’d just have to seek him out when he got back home and spank his hefty ass extra hard with my studded paddle. One night after work I went out for dinner with a few co-workers at an industry hang-out – an old-fashioned steakhouse with roomy red leather booths that reminded me of the suburban restaurants my parents used to take me to as a kid. After ten minutes of being teased about being a vegetarian by my carnivore friends, I relented and ordered a filet mignon. “Jeez, will you listen to those guys – thank God there’s no one here under 21!” my friend Alexia suddenly exclaimed, motioning toward a boothful of noisy men in a far corner of the restaurant. I looked over and saw Michael sitting in another booth with some mates of his. They were comparing notes about various female companions when I thought I heard him say something about “a daft blonde tart with a whip.” Maybe it was presumptuous of me to think he was talking about me. Michael was certainly capable of maintaing a whole stable of daft blondes with whips. “Excuse me,” I said, “I have to powder my nose.” I sashayed past the booth where Michael held court, making sure he got an eyeful of my butt in my tight jeans. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed “You’re a class act, Michael. You’re allowed to call me, you know.” “Damn, I didn’t see you there.” So I’m daft, huh? Your daft blonde tart –hmm.” “I meant it in a good way. Daft like freespirited, ya know.” Yeah, try and talk your way out of it. There’s a long spanking in store, for you mister.” He slipped his arms around me, enveloping me like a bear capturing his prey,.and French kissed me full on the lips within full view of an amused waitress on her break. “I missed you.” I whispered in his ear, then coyly bit the lobe, teasing him with a pinch. “God, you get me hard just hearing your voice. I bet you ain’t wearing underwear.” “Just a purple thong”. I purred. He liked that. “C’mere sit with me”. He gripped onto me hard. “Oh, honey I don’t wanna be rude to my friends.” “They’ll understand.” When we returned his buddies were sitting at my table, chatting up Alexia and the 21-year-old wardrobe girl. “Well, looks like we have the whole booth to ourselves. How about some dessert, Mr. Hanover?” What’s on special tonight?” “A delicious sugar-coated blow job.” I whispered. I sunk to my knees under the table and unzipped him, the most beautiful sound I’d heard since our first night together. “Michael, ya ready to go?” One of his friends called. “Not yet – he said. “Leave without me. I have some business to take care of.” “Yeah, a daft blonde.” I heard one of them say as he walked out of the restaurant with the wardrobe girl. I played with him, kissing his cock and his balls, teasing him and getting him ready for the marathon to come. Then I quietly zipped him back up. Clandestinely sucking his cock in public wouldn’t cut it. I needed him full throttle inside me. ‘Cmere, let’s go to the loo. We hurried to the john. He backed up against the wall by the wash basin and I sucked him, dirty and lowdown, just like the street whores he’d gone to as a teen-ager. He slipped my jeans down over my hips then pulled my thong down and slipped a finger inside my shaved pussy. “We shouldn’t stay away from each other for too long. It’s fucking unhealthy.” I wrapped my legs around him, forcing myself on top of him and we fucked. It was a joy to watch his cock plunge in and out. The reflection in the mirror magnified our merged bodies like a camera close-up. “You’re a dirty fucking slut, ain’t you Michael? Fucking whore,” I tugged at his hair. You don’t care if the whole world knows what a whore you are. You’re proud of it. The more names I called him the harder he got. Outside the door, we heard Alexia and his friends laughing and flirting. “We’re gonna get caught then everyone will see how big and beautiful your cock is…all the girls will line up to fuck you all the men will be jealous.” That did it. He came, showering his salty sweetness over my ass. “Dirty bitch”, He laughed. His eyes flashed like the devil’s diamonds. “Don’t talk about yourself, Michael” I said wiping myself clean with wet paper towels. “I don’t have any playthings with me. Maybe we should go to my place.” What about your room-mate?” “She’s out of town.” “Yeah, let’s go,” he shuddered. I drove home while Michael laid naked in the back seat I told him I didn’t like it when he wore clothes. It was 3 a.m. by the time we got in, and we ran like naughty teen-agers from the parking garage to the elevator, carefully checking the hallway for potential witnesses before we ran to my room. “How does it feel to be slave -- do you like it?” We tousled each other playfully on top of my red velvet bedspread. I have the best mistress -- that makes all the difference. He tweaked a nipple. I slapped his hand. “You never learn.” “Well, I thought you liked a challenge…” “C’mere, scoot over my knee…you’ve been eating too many double cheeseburgers. I’m gonna need an bigger paddle to spank your fat ass..” He looked genuinely hurt, and his brown eyes drooped like a sad puppy dog. “That’s not fair. I tried to stay in good shape for you. I haven’t even smoked in a month.” “Oh, that’s my good little boy.” I kissed his eyelids, then spanked him so hard I thought the force would crack my wrist. He let out a cry of pleasure and his cock stirred. I continued spanking him til his ass was bright red. Funny, I had never considered spanking him to excess, but now that I had, I felt kind of ashamed, even though he seemed to enjoy it. His body readied willingly for another blow. “That’s enough.” I said. “You get into bed and I’ll be right back. He obeyed without any smart aleck protests, but leered at my ass as he watched me bounce into the hallway. I returned armed with a bag of tricks. First, I smoothed his sweet burning ass with some mint cream and watched him wince in relief. I stretched out beside him and mussed his hair. He was all relaxed now, almost romantic and girly sweet. “Roll over.” I commanded. “And sit up against the headboard.” He obeyed. I reached over and turned the lamp off and picked up a tall, tapered candle that had been burning on my night table. I tilted the candle and let hot wax drip down his chest. He leaned closer to me. to catch it to make certain it slithered down his stomach and past his navel. It stopped just short of his cock. “You’re not getting away that easy.” I said. Instinctively, he swerved away as I tilted the candle over his cock. “Now be brave. Don’t be a fucking baby . Take it.” I let the wax slide down the side of his cock. There was nothing better than seeing that schizophrenic look of pleasure and pain cross his full red lips. I grabbed his cock and poured more wax on it, smearing it all over like a coat of paint It covered my hand his balls and his searing, hard cock with molten pink drippings. Then I blew the candle out and the room went totally dark. City Of Angels Ch. 3 "I kinda like this," Michael whispered. "No music, no lights, just the outline of your body in the dark. "Don't move," I commanded. "The wax has to dry so I'll have a nice mold of your cock to admire when we're apart." I grabbed a a pair of handcuffs and chained him to the headboard, afraid he would try to fuck me and ruin my keepsake He laughed, oblivious to the handcuffing. He had grown to expect it. "Just like those famous groupies used to do in the '60s? I'm honored." I ran my finger down his chest, his musky sweat slippery and comforting on my skin. "Now you be patient and wait for a few minutes. In the meantime, here's something to keep you occupied." I kneeled, facing him, and offered him my breasts, gently rubbing one nipple, then the other, against his hungry lips. Unable to cup them in his hands because I had tied him up, his mouth worked overtime. Michael knew how I wanted my tits sucked – a gentle flick of the tongue, some playfully rough tugging with his teeth, then a breather before I pressed my other tit against his lips. Although my baser instincts urged me to chisel the almost dried wax off his hardening cock and suck away, I controlled myself. After all, daylight would rear its ugly head in a few hours and I'd be off in the desert on another shoot for a whole week. A week without my naughty man-slave - just the thought made me sad, but I had to do it. I could not let him become complacent. Michael moaned blissfully as he sucked my other nipple, feeding on it like a baby who depended on mother's milk for sustenance. "There now, Michael, I see I'm ready to retrieve my souvenir. The lights were still off, but I felt down to his cock. With a quick dip of a fingertip I felt the hard wax. I leaned over and turned on a small lamp on the nightstand. Even though the light was soft and shaded by a perfumed scarf over the shade, Michael winced at the sudden brightness. Such a sensitive slave. He watched as I lifted the wax shell off his cock, careful not to let it crumble. It wasn't plaster, but it was the best I had on the spur of the moment. I placed it in a handkerchief and put it in a dresser drawer for safe keeping. The doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock – 1 a.m. Right on schedule. "There's someone I'd like to introduce you to. Now you be a good boy and keep thinking nasty thoughts. I'll be right back with your surprise." Michael watched me walk out of the room, breathing heavy, his moody brown eyes laser hot with pent-up desire. That desire would be released in the most primitive way imaginable in a few minutes. When I returned, I was wearing a leather thong, thigh high boots and baby oil, leading his new friend to the bed by her leash. "I'd like to introduce you to my other slave – Ariana." Ariana spoke first. "Hello, Michael. I will join you tonight in obeying and pleasuring my – our mistress." Slave and mistress. We both watched in amusement as Michael's eyes turned wide as bowling balls. In a reversal of the usual stereotypes, I the petite blonde, dominated the tall, dark haired stripper. Ariana was a bisexual dancer I had met at a Goth club. She loved my pert body and I adored her huge, surgically created breasts. She and her boyfriend, a thin, handsome Swiss playboy, made me the third – and dominant partner – in their relationship. Even after Peter left to go back to Zurich, Ariana and I continued our games. But after awhile, we both agreed it wasn't the same without a third partner – a man – to join us. Then I met Michael. "I have a wonderful nightcap for both of you. I think you'll enjoy it." I gave one of Ariana's tits a bounce, and reveled in the sweet look on Michael's face. I unleashed Ariana's and made her sit on the bed. I unchained Michael and distracted him by making him oil her tits. Then I crawled in between them and sucked his cock as he played with her tits. He could not speak now; he was all moans and barely discernible shudders of pleasure. Between Ariana's huge plastic tits and his pert whore-mistress sucking him raw, he was living every man's fantasy. When he came, I squirted his juice over Ariana's tits. Like all men, he needed variety to tease him, to get his cock hard and keep him interested. So I used Ariana's charms to my advantage. He collapsed in an exhausted, sated heap on the floor and we helped him to the bed, rubbing our bodies against him and against each other until he fell asleep. Ariana and I sandwiched him in the bed. She made sure he was asleep before she whispered to me. "He is not my type, mistress – I do not usually go with men who are much older than me, and he is not athletic, like Peter. But I will be with him as you wish." A few hours later Ariana and I woke up and showered together. She helped me pack, and went into the garage to start my car while I wrote a note to Michael. 'I have to go to the desert to work until Saturday. You may stay here as long as you wish – my roomie won't be back till the end of the month. The apartment keys are on in the nightstand drawer. I will think of you every time I suck Ariana's tits' – Love - Your mistress Vanessa ' Reverently, I took the wax cast of Michael's cock out of the drawer and placed it in my purse. I placed the extra set of keys in the drawer. On my way down to the car park, I could not resist sneaking one last peek in the bedroom window. Michael read my note, and then sunk back into bed, cock in hand. City Of Angels Ch. 4 He could not think of anything but her. Her tits, her ass, the way her tongue like an errant muscle curled around his cock and licked his balls in a fit of insane passion. The bird could fuck and suck better than any of his little Sunset Strip whores. And she was playing him for a fool and loving it. But he loved it, too. Years and years of fawning women obeying his every perverted whim had taken its toll. Sex had started to bore him – maybe he had done everything, dozens – no hundreds - of times over, and nothing challenged him anymore. Vanessa had changed his mind and gotten his cock perpetually hard again. One flash of her gleaming panther eyes made him feel like a 13-year-old schoolboy. She had only been gone for a few hours and already he was carefully, reverently rummaging through her closets, touching and smelling her lingerie and her leather bustiers, rubbing his cock with her cat o nine tails til he came. His cell phone rang. He knew it was her. He barely disguised his eagerness when he heard her deliberately throaty voice. “Are you being a good boy?” “No, you’re not here to discipline me. You know I have no self-control.” Vanessa laughed. “That’s one of the things I love about you. You’re so honest. You’re breathing heavy…did you just jerk off, baby?” “When are you coming back. I miss you so much.” Michael swore he could smell her perfume over the phone. “My sweet, horny slave, you have the busiest cock…umm, does that thing ever rest?” He could almost feel her rouge red lips pressed against the receiver. He imagined them on his cock. It got hard again. “Listen to this,” she taunted. “Come here, Ariana. Do you have something for me?” In the background, Michael heard Ariana’s high-pitched giggle and the creak of the mattress as she edged closer to Vanessa. You look good baby dripping with oil just the way I like - what’s that in your hand…yes, slide it in.” I wish you were here to see our new plaything. It’s a glass dildo, lilac and black glass – you must use it on me when I come home.” Vanessa’s voice exploded into moans of indecipherable pleasure. Then the phone disconnected. For the next few days, Michael tried to get her out of his mind. He left the apartment and went to lunch with his manager as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and then he spent a few hours at his house rifling through bills, listening to tapes and calling a mate or two. Then he rang the housekeeper and told her to watch his place for a few days. When she arrived he left, feeling a tinge of regret at leaving Franco, his black Lab, and the only steady companion in his life, to the care of another person again. He wanted to be there for Vanessa when she returned. He heard her voice again on Friday morning, as soon as he woke up and picked up his messages. “I want you back in my bed by 5 o clock – if you’re not there already. Oh, and I’ll be alone. I sent Ariana home” Michael’s entire demeanor changed once he heard her voice and carefully, reverently stepped into her apartment. After making sure her roommate hadn’t come home early, he took leave of reality. In a few hours, only he and his mistress would exist. He wished he could stay in that world. He showered and rummaged through her closet. An open-breasted black leather teddy taunted him from its hiding place in the middle of her lace and satin nightgowns. Yeah, she’d look hot in that. Spanking him. Whipping him. Fucking him. The thought of it was too much to bear. He hung the leather outfit over the headboard of the bed and rubbed his cock over it. “Is that your way of letting me know what you want me to wear?” Vanessa had crept back into the bedroom like the serpent she embodied. Stealthy, silently evil. Michael fell to his knees. His cock had taken over. It pointed at her, accusatory even as it begged for release. “I see you missed me.” She kissed him blithely on the top of his head, then yanked the leather teddy from the headboard. “I’m going to put this on.” She whispered. “In the other room. Don’t touch your cock, don’t rub it – you did enough of that while I was away, I’m sure.” Vanessa knelt down and gave his cockhead a quick lick. “Tastes good, baby. Real good. Wait til the real deal comes spilling out.” She licked the tiniest spot of pre-cum from his cock. He watched her disappear into the bathroom in jeans and a crop-top, a woman, and emerge a few minutes later, as a demon goddess in shiny black leather. The teddy pushed her full but pert breasts further up on her chest, til they almost touched her chin. The teddy was slit open in the crotch to reveal shaved pussy in full bloom. She turned and knelt with her back to him, and he got an eyeful of her round, bare ass, thankfully free of leather. Only the non-essential parts were covered. “Oil me up and fuck my ass.” She hissed. “Do it right, my horny little bastard.” Michael spread her ass cheeks. As much as he loved her ass, he wanted to slide his cock in that velvety pussy, but he had to obey her. Without asking, he slid his long, slick tongue along her crack and ever so slightly into her puckering pink asshole. “You have the best ass, mistress.” He moaned. “Worship it then.” Vanessa’s clit stood at attention, her asshole quivered as he grabbed a bottle of oil and squirted it between her crack. He fingered all the delicate pink he could, slathering on oil, using finger and tongue and lips to please and worship. He leaned forward and rubbed his cock inside her, from pussy up to asshole. The puckering pink hole gaped open at the first touch of his burning cock. He was amazed at how receptive her body was – her ass was as sensitive and easy to enter as her pussy. He slipped the fiery cockhead into her, and gently pushed a little more into her ass. Aah, the sweet squeeze of flesh and lubricant, he lived for it and he knew she did. “That’s it, Michael, get a rhythm going. Nice and easy. I’ll put more oil on..til it drenches our bodies.” Somehow she managed to grab the half empty bottle of lubricant with one hand and empty it onto her ass before grabbing onto the bed with both hands. Anal sex had always been a struggle for him. First, talking a bird into it, then relaxing her, then getting inside her – it had never been easy til now. He stared at her ass as her fucked it. The ease with which his cock dipped in and out of her slippery asshole fascinated him. Harder and hotter than any porno. Her moans, punctuated by the filthy loving names she called him – “cock-slave”, sweet ass-fucker,” were just compliments to his prowess. The shiny black leather teddy molded to the curve of her back made her perfect ass even better. His cock couldn’t take it any longer. He spurted what seemed like a bucketful of come in her ass and all over her expensive leather outfit. She clutched onto the bed, exhausted. “Michael, umm, I should leave you alone more often. Get that lust to build up to the boiling point…isn’t that good for you, my sweet.” She spanked him swiftly on his ass. “It’ll be your turn soon.” She crawled into bed, and he followed. “And you’ll love it as much as I do.” “My turn? And what exactly did you have in mind?” “Sssh, don’t worry about that now. That’s my concern, Michael.” She dotted his sweaty face with appreciative kisses, and they fell asleep in each others’ arms, sanctified by sweat, oil and cum. It bathed and baptized them into the new day. City Of Angels Ch. 5 After a long night of watching DVDs, snacking on strawberry ice cream, fucking, and light bondage, Michael cooked breakfast while Vanessa opened the mail. “Oh, look an invitation to Rhonda Eaton’s birthday party. The party’s I can’t believe she’s going to be 50 – she’s one I always pictured her as 25 forever.” Rhonda ..I know Rhonda – she’s a sweet lady. She was my manager when I first moved here." “You wanna go together as a couple?” It was one of the few times Michael had addressed her as a woman, not as his mistress. She stood there fresh scrubbed, free of make-up and jewelry in jeans and a cut off T-shirt. That gave him the strength to say that, to remember when he had first seen her at the club. She smiled. “I’d love to go to the party as your girlfriend…but when we get back home I will be your mistress.” “Always, always my love.” He kissed her hand. “I’ll met you there at ten on Thursday,” Vanessa stroked his newly wavy black hair. “Ya know, I’m glad you grew your hair out – it’s incredibly sexy. “She kissed his forehead. “You have no intention of behaving in front of our friends, do you?” Michael said, letting his hand wander down to her ass. “Of course not – because I know you’ll be even naughtier.” Vanessa grabbed her fringed suede purse. “I have to go to work now. See you at Rhonda’s party” She bounced toward the door, all big juicy ass and sweet, proud tits. Even underneath jeans and a T-shirt, her body tempted him as no other woman’s had. “I’ll be your girlfriend at the party, but when we get home I’m your mistress again.” The concept intrigued him. Rhonda’s party was held at the Beverly Hills home of some friends of hers – a show biz couple, yes, but they held very old fashioned Midwestern values, and their home reflected it. After a barbecue and the perfunctory post-dinner conversations between acquaintances, most of the attendees left. Vanessa and Michael took refuge in the bedroom after Rhonda and the hosts wandered outside. "This is a very cozy, All-American bedroom – look at this bedspread.” Vanessa ran her hand over the white velvet comforter. “Pure as the driven snow.” Her breast slithered out of her silky halter top. Michael sat down next to Vanessa, inching closer to kiss her. The scent of her musky perfume comforted him, he felt uneasy in such a bland, woodgrain bedroom. The couple who shared this bed were surely as sterile and plain as the décor – such people were a total mystery to him. What if they happened upon two heathens engaged in unnatural acts on their bed? The thought made his dick hard. I locked the door,” Vanessa whispered, “and Rhonda’s friends have taken her next door to admire their neighbors garden.” Every cell in his body seethed with anticipation. Her fingers played upon his crotch, teasing and warm. Vanessa unbuckled his belt. “Slip those trousers off and scoot over my lap.” “You lied to me. You said you weren’t going to be my mistress again until we got home.” “I had the best intentions, Michael. But you turn me into a savage. You do it on purpose. ” A flicker of light from the votive candle on the nightstand illuminated her bare breast. The silhouette of it stained the wall next to the painting of a Maine lighthouse. Nothing would make her happier than to temporarily sully this wholesome bedroom. And if that made her happy, it would make him estactic. He slipped off his pants and then his boxers. She motioned for him to hand them to her. Michael watched her obediently. Under her guard, he never felt happier. The joy, the child-like waiting to see what she would do next, consumed him. Gently, reverently, she rubbed the material against her now exposed breasts, then dropped the clothes on the floor in a neat pile. “Oh, that’s a GORGEOUS lemon tree!” Rhonda’s patented deep-pitched but gleeful voice drifted in through the bedroom window. “The windows halfway open…” Michael whispered. He reached over to close it. “No, don’t do that,” Vanessa grabbed his wrist. “We’ll need a cool breeze in a few minutes..or rather, you will.” She patted her lap. “Hurry and get those buns up here.” Michael still wanted to call her bluff when she pulled stunts like this, but always stopped himself when he thought of her reaction. Oh yeah, she’d be mad and leave him tied to the cross all night, or lock him in the stock, naked and blindfolded. But the worst punishment of all loomed large – her disappointment. How could he fail his mistress? The bedsprings creaked as he crawled toward her. The white velvet underneath his hands was too stale, too lifeless. The warm black satin sheets and leopard fur throws on the bed on home signaled sex, but these accoutrements were a definite stop sign. Michael edged his body across her, sliding his ass on her lap. His cock brushed snugly against the cool suede of her skirt. Then her hand came down, sharp and reassuring on his bum. “And don’t you dare make a sound! You’re not going to disturb our friends with your wimpering.” Michael curled his lips together, and anticipated the next blow. It came, harder and swifter. Tears pooled in his eyes – the reaction to his blessed pain had to appear somehow. “There, there, my sweet, am I hurting you?” Vanessa rubbed her hands over his red bottom. “You are so sensitive for such a big, strong man.” The cool of her painted fingernails against his ass made him squirm. She noticed this and pinched him slightly with her nail tips. Voices grew louder from outside from underneath the window. Rhonda engaging her neighbors in a discussion about her rose bushes. Vanessa smiled and slipped her hands over his balls, bouncing and caressing them. He moaned and whispered her name. “Sssh.” Vanessa slapped his ass again, a light volley. The look on his face when she spanked him always intrigued her – that curious combination of orgasm and pain. The screen door slammed shut. Rhonda’s voice – and the click-clack of her pumps grew closer. Vanessa pulled his body tight against her lap with one arm. With the other, she spanked him wildly, carelessly, with evil intent. He grimaced, holding in the screams. She licked her lips, making sure that he saw her through the welled up tears in her eyes. Then she let go of his body and backed away from him. Michael cushioned his fall with his arms, the only parts of his body that had strength left. Vanessa stood by the dresser, slipping on her blouse and shoes as though nothing had happened. Michael followed her lead, never taking his eyes off her cool figure as she admired herself in the mirror. Silently and separately, they walked into the dining room. Rhonda emptied pototaoe chips into a glass bowl. She motioned to Vanessa, and spoke to her quickly, before Michael entered the room. “I hope I wasn’t being rude – running off without inviting you two…now will I have to clean up after you? I wouldn’t want the Sagers to think my other friends are rude.” “No, we were very neat..but you may have to spray holy water in the bedroom to cleanse it of lust.” “That’s my girl.” Rhonda high-fived her. ”You are carrying on a fine tradition.”