0 comments/ 40589 views/ 1 favorites Lynette and Her Guest By: starmanz1 Writer's Note: Fiction – After Gregg's marriage to Susan ends, he rents a room from Lynette and finds himself in a world of complication. Unfortunately, my marriage to Susan did not work out well. Some months after our divorce, I was short of money, and so rented a room from a professor at the university named Lynette. She was quiet, slender and obviously very intelligent. She taught a full load of courses, and was working on a book that would turn out to be her ticket to tenure. At first, our relationship was quite tense, and it was like she didn't feel free to be herself around me. Obviously this was difficult for her, because if you can't be yourself in your own home, where can you be? Also we would quarrel periodically over whether or not I was doing my fair share of the chores. Finally to break the ice a little bit and hopefully put things on a friendlier footing, I suggested that at least one night each week, one of us would do all the cooking and we would have dinner together. She agreed. The first night was my turn. I think I cooked spaghetti and pesto, which I didn't really care for, but she liked it a lot. I did all the cooking myself and set the table. As dinner commenced I found myself spending most of the time waiting on her, pouring her wine, bringing her dessert, etc. I wouldn't let her do a thing. We had a wonderful conversation. After dinner she told me she was impressed that I'd waited on her the whole meal, and that she enjoyed being waited on. I replied that I liked waiting on her, and would be happy to do it again. Two nights later, she fixed the meal. She didn't wait on me, but we had another excellent conversation. So we kept our new tradition going. She was much more relaxed, but it still felt like she wasn't entirely comfortable. A couple of weeks later, we again quarreled about the chores. I was tired of the tension so I suggested to her that she just make a list of chores she wanted me to do and I would do them. She told me she thought that was kind of weird but that she sort of liked the idea. "Why don't we start Saturday," she said. I agreed, and we hugged each other, both of us glad that the disagreement was behind us. Saturday came around and she presented me with a long list. I told her the list looked like a lot more than half, and she just smiled. She asked me what we would do if the chores were not completed to her satisfaction. Sort of as a joke, I said, "Well I guess you could spank me." She told me that sounded like a wonderful idea and told me to get to work. About three weeks later she came home one Saturday evening and noticed some dust bunnies on the floor where I was supposed to have swept. Immediately she stalked over to the couch where I was reading a book and said, pointing at the dust bunnies, "This is totally unacceptable." I looked over, sort of went, "Ulp!" and apologized. She told me an apology was not nearly sufficient and reminded me of what we had agreed three weeks before. "You didn't mean that did you?" I asked. "Of course I did," she said. She told me to get the broom, and re-do that part of the floor, and when I was done to present myself to her in her home office. I did as she asked, and a few minutes later was standing before her. "Take down your pants," she said. I asked why. "You know perfectly well I can't have much effect through those jeans," she said. "And I don't want to hurt my hand. I pulled down my pants. "OK. Get over my knee," she said. I thought for a moment, but had found I really didn't mind the chores from her list, and furthermore did not want to spoil our new rapport. I did as she said. She proceeded to paddle me for what seemed like a half hour. It hurt a lot. After she was done she caressed my face for a second and told me, "You know we both need this, don't you?" I nodded. Then she had me go to my room for the rest of the night. A week or so later, she called me from the office on her night to cook dinner and asked if I could do it instead because she'd reached a difficult point in her research and did not want have to think about anything else if she could help it. I agreed and told her if she got home in time, I'd be happy to cook for her instead. It did not happen that night, but soon I was cooking for her and waiting on her, first two nights a week, then more, and eventually every night she was home. This was in addition to my weekly chores. The spankings also became a weekly ritual. One Friday evening I came home late from work, and found her dressed in a cute black sheath and fooling with her hair. She looked amazing and she had this wonderful conspiratorial smile on her face. I admit I had a hope the smile and the hot getup were for me, but she quickly put that notion to rest. "I'm so glad we get along well now!" she exclaimed. "It's put me at ease and I've got a real date tonight. I was beginning to feel like no one wanted me," she said. I didn't know what to say to this because I certainly had felt very attracted to her. She gave me a quick hug, and was out the door. "Don't you dare wait up," she said. I didn't. About 10 the next morning, while I was reading the paper in the living room, she came in the front door, still wearing that nifty sheath, but very disheveled. She had a happy grin on her face but still looked just the tiniest bit sheepish. "You silly maniac," I said. "I couldn't help myself," she replied. "It had been so long, and he was just so cute!" she replied. "He's a hot lover, too. It was great." With that she bounced past me toward her bedroom and slept until late in the afternoon. In the evening she had me cook her dinner, and after I'd cleaned up and put the dishes in the sink, she asked me to sit down and then looked at me with a strange look on her face. "You want me. Don't you?" she said. I nodded. "That's why it's amazing you were so supportive when I came in that morning. "I'll be honest," she continued. "I have no desire to settle down right now in a conventional relationship with a man, but I do love living with you the way we have it now." "I want you," I said, "But I feel comfortable with you right now, and I wouldn't change a thing. It did hurt me a little last night when you told me you were going out on a date with someone else, but I loved how happy it made you, and I sort of decided I was just going to do what I could to help you stay happy." "It's perfect," she said. "I can really be myself with you now. I can have you as my kept domestic man at home, and still live as a single liberated woman. Is this really OK with you?" "Yes," I said nodding. "For some reason it is. I just love helping you be happy and comfortable. I'll do this for as long as you like." She got out of her chair, pulled me to my feet and hugged me fiercely. "I'll see to it you're not sorry," she said. With that she took me by the hand and led me to her home office. She asked me to kneel in front of her chair, and then sat in front of me. She was wearing a big white shirt with a belt, and I could see the panties peeking out from under it. Her legs looked wonderful. Quickly she pulled down her panties and pulled my face into her sex. I pleasured her for upwards of an hour, and when she was done, she pushed my head back, and asked me to pull up her panties. I did so without a whimper, but I hated to see her disappear back inside her clothes. She went into her bedroom, shut the door, put on a nightdress, and called me in to rub her back. After she was satisfied she sent me to my room. That night I masturbated four times, and the next day I was in a bit of a cranky mood. "You look out of sorts," she said when she handed me the chore list for the week. "Yes. I guess I am," I replied. "So what's the matter," she said. For some reason I got brave. "I've got to be honest," I said. "I think I'm hurt because you went to bed with a guy Friday night, and then last night you let me do oral sex on you, but there was nothing else. That bothers me." "Didn't you masturbate?" she asked me. "Yes I did. Four times," I answered. "Wow!" she said. "You really ought to be a happy camper right now, but you're as down in the dumps as I've seen you since you started doing chores for me. "Let me ask you a question," she went on. "How many times did you masturbate in the last three weeks?" "Not at all," I replied. "But you were happy then," she said. She thought for a moment. "I think I know what the problem is," she said. "I've read about this. A man is happier when he is not sexually spent, and it's up to me to provide discipline so you don't get sexually spent, and that way you'll be able to be happy. "Do something for me," she went on. "Just go about your chores for the rest of the day, and go to bed like normal. And then wake up and go to work like always. But do something for me. Don't touch yourself. Not at all, except to pee. Can you do that?" "I think so," I said, nodding slowly. "Good," she said. "We'll talk when you get home from work tomorrow." She patted my cheek, looked me in the eye, and just smiled. After a day of doing household chores for her, I was hard as a rock. She was in her study all day, and then went out with a girlfriend for dinner. I saw almost nothing of her, but my promise to her not to touch myself was keeping me excited. I wanted to so badly. But a promise was a promise, so I didn't. The next morning I again was amazingly hard, but I kept my word. I got up, ate a little breakfast, and went to work. Though I felt intense physical frustration, my mood actually improved. Around 5:30 I got home. Between chores and preparing and cleaning up after dinner, there was no time to have a conversation, but she did not seem to mind. After I got done, she told me to go to my room, sit on the floor, and think about the weekend. She would call me when she was ready. After about an hour she called me into her office. There she sat in a chair with a short nightgown on. She looked wonderful and her eyes were twinkling. "I think you should take off your clothes," she said. "You've got a beautiful body, and I'd like to see it." Without a word I stripped to the buff. I was red-faced, and it amused her to see me blush. "You're shaved!" she exclaimed. "This is wonderful. You've done this before! Haven't you?" I nodded. "Tell me all about it," she said. So I did. I told her the whole story of my relationship with Cynthia, and how that had ended; how I had messed it up, how I had married Susan, how that had petered out, and about how I found out Susan had been cheating on me since even before we got engaged. "That's a shame," she said. "It's terrible your wife would go behind your back like that. You're a decent guy, and you deserve better. She gave me a warm hug with me there on my knees, nude, in front of her. She held the clinch for a couple of minutes. When she let go of me, she said, "I want you to perform oral sex on me tonight. Right now." With that she opened her legs. No panties at all tonight, and I did as I was asked. She was amazing. She bucked and screamed and seemed like she couldn't get enough. It went on for more than an hour this time. When she was done, she looked me closely in the eye, and said, "That was truly wonderful. I am one lucky woman. "Now I want you to go to bed," she continued. "But this time I want you to not masturbate at all. And I want you to call in sick at work and spend the day getting your chores done. Then we'll talk. Don't touch yourself at all now. OK?" "Yes," I said. "Yes, ma'am." She smiled as I gathered up my clothes and left the room. The nest morning I was a jumble of intense emotions as I began my chores. While I was completing these tasks, she worked away on her book. Occasionally as I went past her office she would give me a glance or a knowing smile. But we didn't speak. About mid-afternoon I was done. Immediately I went to my room, took off my clothes, walked to her office and presented myself on my knees at her feet. When she turned to face me, I bent down and kissed each foot gently. In spite of my quiet demeanor I wanted her more than ever. She sat there smiling for a moment and looking me over. "You are a delicious man," she said. "Thank you, ma'am," I replied. "How do you feel?" she asked. "I'm frustrated. I'm mad with desire. I want to grab you so badly it hurts." "Don't be silly," she said. "That's not what I meant. Are you happy right now? Are you at peace with our relationship?" "It's crazy but yes I am happy. And even though I feel totally frustrated in my body, when I'm in your presence and when I'm doing things for you and even when you're out taking your pleasure with some other guy, I feel at peace at the same time I feel frustrated and jealous." She got a little more serious now. "You'll have to do something about that jealousy," she said. "I care for you more than any man I've ever had, but I need my freedom too much to do this any other way with you. And I still have the same physical needs as any other woman, and that means I have to see other men to get what I need. "If you can't accept this, I'm going to have to ask you to move out, and we won't be able to see each other again. I would hate that." I could feel how much she cared, and how wonderful she was, and the deep spiritual feeling that was growing in me out of my intense desire for her. "I'll do this for you," I said quietly. "I'll do it your way." She hugged me close and kissed me gently on the lips. "You're making the right decision, you know," she said. "Even though it's going to be hard for you sometimes, I'll see you won't regret this." At that she leaned back in her chair and told me she was going to impose some new rules. She ordered me to begin keeping a journal of all my emotional, erotic and desirous thoughts. She told me she wanted to read this two to three times a week. She said that way she could learn of any of my thoughts that were incompatible with our relationship, and work on weeding those out of me. "Also, I expect it's going to be pretty hot," she said with that guilty smile of hers. "I give you permission to be graphic." She told me I could no longer masturbate without permission, and I could not ask more than twice a month. She told me she was at her most excited after coming home from being with a man or when she was on her period, and she was going to insist I take care of her pleasure during those times, in addition to any other time she was to ask. In addition she said she occasionally would entertain her men friends at home, and I would be absent, the soul of discretion, or the perfect servant, as each occasion and her mood dictated. I was to start serving her breakfast in bed every morning, and if from time to time I had to do that for both her and her lover, I was to do it without complaint. She said she liked the way I had presented myself naked at her feet, and that she wanted me to do this every time I handed over my journal for her to read, and every time I presented myself for punishment. I told her I would do all this, and another phase of our relationship began that day. I became a perfect servant. It was difficult learning to please her orally after she had just had a man, or while her menstrual blood was flowing, but she enjoyed it so much I was thrilled she had asked me to do it. For me it also hurt each time she went on a date, and even more the few times she brought a man home. I had to be perfectly courteous on these occasions, and keep a smile on my face, whether or not I was actually performing service at the time. The times I had to serve breakfast in bed to her and the guy she'd just had were the worst. But I'd gotten to know her better and I could see she needed this, and I could see how happy it made her when I did what she asked. So I just sucked it up the first few times, and began empathizing with her happiness and the pleasure she took in these trysts. I began to like it because I could see it was working for her. The best part was the journal. I did exactly as she asked and recorded each and every one of my amorous thoughts in graphic detail. She truly did enjoy reading it. And when my fantasies were such she did not think proper she devised a system of punishment to encourage me to become entirely centered on her. I felt even more naked in front of her than ever before when she was reading the journal. It was scary, but it was hot. She would ask me questions about my fantasies and sometimes ask me to go into even greater detail. Sometimes she would touch herself in front of me, or ask me to read the journal to her so she could use both hands. On journal nights I was never allowed to masturbate, and so the only pleasure I got was empathizing with her pleasure and fantasizing about her. After she was done, if she did not approve of the fantasy, she would lecture me on the need to purify my thoughts of anything female except the Great Goddess and her. Sometimes she would spank me and sometimes not. She then would lead me into a walk-in closet in her bedroom and leave me to meditate on her, to refocus my fantasies upon her, and to realize that submissive fantasies were preferable. I could be in the closet for anywhere from a half hour to the entire night. She would tie my hands behind me so I was unable to touch myself. She would sometimes masturbate loudly when I was in the closet. Twice she went out after I was placed in confinement and brought home a lover. My feelings, as I heard her pleasure and his grunts drove me to distraction and into even deeper obedience. All I knew was the relationship seemed to be making us both very happy. After one journal session, she looked at me closely and asked, "Why do you think you're nude when we do this?" I thought for a second and said, "Because it's sexy?" "For you or for me?" she asked. "Well of course for you, but for me, too. It's very hot," I said. "I can see that," she said smiling and surveying my erection. "But that's not the whole reason. Why else?" "Because you enjoy looking at my body?" "That I do," she said. "But again that's not the real reason. Why do you think I don't take clothes off when we do this?" Now I was confused. "I don't know," I said. "Because you don't want to?" "Hmm!" she said. "If I wait for you to figure this out, I think we'll be here all night. "Let me just tell you. You are nude because you are supposed to be open to me and to whatever I might want to do with you. You are laid bare and revealed to me, with no holding back. That's what the journal is about, too. You are giving everything to me. "I remain clothed to remind us both that even though I care for you and love you deeply I am not yours in the same way. Also it shows, just like your inability to grasp what I was talking about a moment ago, that no matter how hard a man tries he is not capable of knowing the deepest truths of a woman. My clothes show that no matter how hard you try, there always will be a great deal about me that you cannot hope to understand. "And because you cannot understand, you cannot possess. Because I do understand you, and your gift of openness and submission, I have the right to possess you. That's also why it is necessary for you to be exclusive to me, because you cannot understand anything at all without focusing all your emotional attention and your greatest efforts on me, while I can take your entire self into my heart and still have room for more." I felt a sense of wonder as I listened to this, and everything she said felt so right. As soon as I finished, I burst into tears as I knelt humbly and covered her feet with kisses. "Thank you for allowing me to be so close to you," I said. "It's so wonderful to know where I belong with you, and to feel so good about it. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." Lynette and Her Guest I felt her hand soft on top of my head as I worshipped. After several minutes, she put her hands on my arms and raised me up in front of her. "Will you be mine?" she asked. "Yes. Yes I will," I breathed. "Just exactly as you want me. Your way is the right way." "Then thank you, my sweet boy. You are mine, and I will use you well." At this she lifted me by the hand and brought me to the bedroom. She lay on the bed, pulled off her pants and panties, and asked me to perform oral sex on her. After we were done, she reached into the nightstand and brought out one of her dildoes and a strap-on harness. She had me put it on her and had me place the dildo into its fitting. "Get on the bed on your hands and knees," she said. "Now I'm going to make you truly mine." And that is exactly what she did. It was a little difficult at first but she slowly and patiently opened me up. I felt plumbed and opened and known and owned. I was hers, heart, body and soul. Afterwards she held me for a long time spoon fashion. Then she pointed to a sleeping bag on the floor at the foot of her bed and told me she wanted me to spend the night there. Though I was amazingly aroused I slept very well indeed. A week later she took me to a tattoo parlor and had me strip for the tattooist. She showed him a design and asked him to put "Property of Lynette H." in the middle of it. She wanted one just above and to the right of the join between my penis and my torso, and another, exactly the same on my left bum. "That way anyone who takes off your pants will know," she said. The tattooing was excruciatingly painful. While he was working Lynette flirted with him, bragging how I was her complete slave, and that she kept me faithful, but she could have anyone she wanted. The flirting got more intense as the tattooing went on. When he was done, Lynette grabbed my shirt and threw it over my face and said, "The rest of this is none of your business. No touching yourself now." I only heard the rest, especially her passionate moans and exclamations. I'm not sure how long it went on. I was glad in a way that the shirt was over my face because my face was totally red with embarrassment. There was no way, however to hide my sexual excitement. When they were done, they chatted a bit as they got dressed. Then she gave him a quick kiss and whispered something. Immediately she climbed on the table, pulled the shirt off my face, straddled me there, and presented her sex. This was the first time I'd met one of her lovers away from the house, and it was excruciatingly embarrassing to taste him from inside of her. Her arousal was powerful and I know she got off at least twice. After she was done she pulled up her pants and inspected the tattoo next to my sex. "Looks good," she said. She then gently grabbed me, and slowly stroked me off. "I'm doing this because you were so brave for me today," she said "You've proved you can accept me and everything I do." "It just makes me want you more," I said Soon I exploded all over myself and all over her hand. Immediately she brought her hand to my mouth and I knew I had to lick myself off her. I did it weeping with happiness It was the first time since we met she had touched me to get me off. After, she took my face in her hands and gave me a slow deep, open mouthed kiss. "Thank you, Mistress," I said. She continued to see the tattoo artist on the side for about two more months, but her mood began to get worse. "He's just so harsh," she said. "And after the gentle way you are with me, I'm not sure I can stand it. I'm not even sure I want to have that kind of sex any more." "But you're entitled to it," I said. "Yes I know, but I'm not sure I even want it any more. Maybe I need a woman's touch." "Are you sure?" "No, but it's something I've got to think about. I think I need you to sleep in your own room tonight. I have to be alone for this." This hurt me. I had been sleeping at the foot of her bed since the night she took me and made me hers. But it was what she wanted and it had become very arousing to simply obey her. One day, while I was completing my allotted chores, Lynette rushed up to me with a big smile on her face, gave me a big hug and said, "I have wonderful news!" "Really? What?" I asked. She told me one of her best friends from her years abroad had just written and said she would be in town in a couple of weeks, and could she stay with Lynette. The friend's name was Lucia, and she was Brazilian. She was the daughter of a wealthy landowner. Lynette and she had traveled all over Europe together several years before. I haven't mentioned this before but Lynette spoke at least seven languages. Sometimes I would hear her jabbering on the phone in one of them, but she never told me who she was talking to or what she was talking about. "It's what I keep telling you. You are incapable of knowing everything about me, and this is one thing you are going to be unable to grasp," she told me one time. Lucia was multilingual as well and Lynette gushed on about how brilliant she was and how much fun to be around and how amazingly beautiful she had been. "She may be the sexiest human being I've ever met," said Lynette with a smile. "I'm gong to talk to her on the phone tomorrow and I'm going to tell her all about you," she continued. "Lucia had servants the entire time she was growing up, so I think she's going to enjoy having you around." "You and she aren't lovers, are you?" I asked. "No. No, we're not," she replied. "Not that it's really any of your business," she added with a wink and a smile. "She's very, very special, though." That night she did not ask me to service her and asked to be alone while she slept. The next day after work she knelt me down in front of her and said. "I talked to Lucia and we're both really excited. I told her all about you and she loved it" "That's great," I said. "I'm not sure you'll think so when you hear what's next." She then proceeded to tell me Lucia had said Lynette was far too lax with me, that Lucia had had male servants like me and that she believed the mistress had to be firm and not indulgent with them. "She told me I had to be much more firm," Lynette said. "And I should be disciplining you physically more, that you should be willing to endure pain for me, and that it is self-indulgent of a mistress to gratify herself with a slave. You know I haven't been in all that good a mood lately, and so I've decided to take her advice and see if it makes things better." "What does this mean?" I asked, shocked. "Does this mean you won't ever let me perform oral sex on you?" "This proves she was right," Lynette said. "You're just focused on sex exactly as she said you would be. She says that means your service isn't really unselfish, and that it's not really service unless it's unselfish." I hung my head, but after a moment looked up and said, "I'll do what you say. Even if this changes, I'll stay true to you." "Maybe you're more unselfish than she thinks," Lynette said with a smile. She hugged me and sent me to the kitchen to fix dinner. That night was our journal night. When I went to present myself at her feet, I was surprised to find her in a formal business suit, as opposed to nightwear or lingerie or just the informal clothes she usually wore around the house. I bowed all the way down, kissed her feet, and knelt back up. "This is different," I said. She slapped my face. "Don't talk to me like that when we are having an encounter like this," she said. "Lucia's right. I do need to be more firm with you. You're sometimes very self-indulgent. I hung my head and apologized. "I'm sorry Mistress," I said. That's much better," said Lynette. "Now I have a surprise for you." "What's that Mistress," I asked. She smiled and produced a pair of alligator clips. "What are those for, Mistress," I asked. "You'll see. Just hold still." I did as she asked and she put one clip on each of my nipples. They hurt quite a lot but somehow the pain made me peaceful. "Thank you, Mistress," I said. "This is working better already," replied Lynette. "Now hand me the journal." I did this the way we always did. I opened it up to the place she had left off the previous time. The spot where the new prose began was marked with a pink sticky. I turned the open book towards her and offered it reverently with both hands. She took the journal, settled back in her chair and began reading. After about a page she got to a spot where I had written about she and Lucia making love while I watched greedily. The description was graphic. All of a sudden her eyes got harsh, she threw the book down and slapped me hard across the face. She slapped me again with the back of her hand. "You dirty minded little brat!" she yelled. I had never seen her this angry. "What Lucia and I feel for one another is special and important to me and to her. It's a much more spiritual feeling than you could ever understand," she said. "It's nothing like what you imagine, and I don't want you dirtying it up with your cheap pornographic fantasies. With you men, the only thing that ever counts is the physical. That's why you can't ever be my equal. "Go into the other room and get your wide black belt and bring it here." I did so and knelt to present it. She had me kneel, face the door by her office, and grab hold of the knob with both hands. "I don't want you to move at all and I don't want to hear a sound out of you," was all she said. She began beating me with the belt and did not stop until I actually had begun to bleed from the welts. But I did what she said. I didn't move. I took it. At the time I couldn't think why. Nobody had ever whipped me like this before. But underneath I could feel how much reading the passage had hurt her, and how much hurt she still felt. And I began to realize I deserved to feel as much pain as she was feeling, so there could be some balance between us. And so I took it, and I didn't utter a sound, although heaven knows I wanted to scream out loud. Finally she stopped. "Just go on to bed," she said. I did so, but I slept hardly at all. The next morning while I was about my chores, she stopped me and said, "I might have overreacted, and I'm sorry if I did, but I want you to stop writing in your journal for now." "I'm just so sorry I hurt you," I replied. "Is there anything I can do to make it better?" It hurt me a lot when she said I could no longer write in the journal. It was one way that made me feel very connected to her. "Just do your chores faithfully and be a good slave, and we'll see," she said with just the hint of a returning smile. My, "Yes, Mistress," made her smile just a little bit more. So that's the way it went as Lucia's visit approached. I did my chores, cooked and cleaned, and twice a week appeared before her naked on my knees for punishment. This almost always was her beating me with the heavy belt until she was satisfied. Once she put the nipple clips on me and had me stand in a corner of the living room while she watched a movie on her DVD player. Our relationship had gotten very formal, but I noticed Lynette's mood improving as the visit approached. She had not mentioned Lucia at all since the time she first started beating me. It was very much "Mistress this" and "Mistress that." The night before Lucia's arrival Lynette had a surprise when I presented myself for punishment. After she and I had talked for a little while, she had me take myself in hand and masturbate. Three times she had me approach the brink, but she would not let me come. "Lucia will be here tomorrow, and you are going to be the perfect servant," Lynette said. "Do you understand?" I told her I did. Lynette then said I was to make a sign that said "Ms. Lucia" and wait for her at the airport tomorrow. I was to treat her with absolute respect and deference, and carry all her luggage if she so desired. "I want her well taken care of and I want her in a very good mood when she arrives here," said Lynette. "I want you to obey her as you would me." And I was to address her as, "Ma'am," always. She told me Lucia knew she was to be greeted this way and that she had high standards and quite a temper. I was to be on my absolute best behavior. Then Lynette had me masturbate again, but at the brink refused me an orgasm. She sent me to bed soon after. The next morning I got my car washed inside and out and went to the airport. At the baggage claim, I held up my sign and waited. I thought I saw one person snicker but mostly everyone ignored me. And then there she was. Long lustrous black hair, elegant body, sparkling brown eyes, and the most graceful walk I had ever seen. "You must be Gregg," she smiled, offering her hand. "Yes, ma'am, I am," I replied. I bent down immediately and kissed her hand. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am," I said. Her smile brightened. "Lynette took my advice I see. You are very polite, and I find that almost irresistible in a man." With that she pointed to the baggage claim and said, "Shall we get my luggage?" "Yes, of course, ma'am," I replied. It took a few minutes for her bags to show up on the carrousel, and we chatted for a moment. She had just the trace of an accent. She began telling me about her flight and an adventure she'd had with a plane delay in Singapore. Then her bags showed up, I was never more grateful to the guy who invented roller bags than that morning, because she had a lot of luggage. Even after I rented a cart there were three bags that wouldn't fit and she left it up to me to get them to my car. With a lot of effort I got everything to the car and put it in the trunk. I opened the back door for her, but she said, "No. That's OK. I'll sit up front with you." I went around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. "That's very good," she said. During the nearly one-hour drive to Lynette's house, she told me a little bit about her life. After her luxurious childhood, she had wandered the world for a while, but then gone back to college and gotten a masters' degree in comparative literature. She had since been all over the world working as a journalist. It was during this part of her life she had met Lynette. "She's so brilliant, and so pretty," said Lucia. "If she just let herself live she'd be the happiest person in the world. Won't you help me do that?" "Yes, ma'am. I love to make her happy," I replied. "Good," she said. "When I get to the house I'm going to want to sit down and have a long private talk with her. I want you to stay in your room after you've brought in and unpacked my luggage, so you won't bother us, but so you will be there if we need you to do anything. Will you do that for her?" "Yes, ma'am. I will." We arrived at the house and pulled in the driveway. I went around and opened the door for her, then went up to the house and opened the door to let her in. She rushed past me and saw Lynette standing there. They called out each others names and grabbed each other in a passionate clasp. I stared for a moment, but fortunately they did not notice. Then I went back to the car. I made it a point to take a couple of minutes to arrange the luggage before I started bringing it in. By the time I started carrying bags, the two women were sitting huddled together in the living room talking softly and intensely. It did not take me long to realize they were not speaking English. It took me nearly an hour to get the luggage in the house and unload it neatly where Lynette had indicated with little notes. I then went to the kitchen to get myself a drink of water when Lynette appeared there. She looked flushed and happy. "Open up a bottle of that good white wine," she said. "And get me two glasses." I did as she asked, and then as she took the bottle and the glasses to go back to the living room, she said, "Go in your room and stay there. I'll see you in the morning." A couple of hours later I heard the door to the outside open and close, and then heard Lynette's car start up. I figured they'd gone to get something to eat. I took advantage of the situation to fix my own meal, and was back in my room and must have been asleep by the time they returned. The following morning, my phone rang about 9 am. It was Lynette (we had separate phone lines). I know I sounded sleepy because she said, "Gregg, you're sleeping a little late for a day when I've go a lot of chores for you to do. "I'm sorry, Mistress," I replied. "Well, you're awake now, and it's hard to stay angry with you today," she said. "I had a wonderful time. We both did, and you impressed Lucia. She says you were a perfect servant and gentleman." My eyes started to water. It was so important to me for her to be happy. I thanked her, whimpering a little I think, and she told me to fix them both breakfast and put it all on the breakfast-in-bed tray, leave it outside the bedroom door, and knock once. The list of my chores would be there. I was to go back immediately to my room, dress, wash up and begin my chores. When I went to get the cleaning supplies the breakfast tray was inside the room. I could hear whispered conversation and giggles, but I couldn't understand any of it. I couldn't understand a thing, and except for a quick lunch break, I was at it until nearly 7 pm. Toward noon, while I was vacuuming in the dining room, I heard them go out again. Afterward as I was having a bite to eat in the kitchen, they returned, and a few minutes later Lynette appeared there to see me. She was wearing a tiny blue-jean miniskirt that showed off her legs to perfection. She had a chain link belt and a nearly sheer white blouse, and some gorgeous red three-inch heels. Her smile was radiant. She was as beautiful as I'd ever seen her. "Stand up," she said. I did, and she came over to me and gave me a big warm hug. She sat at the table and motioned for me to sit, too. "I think yesterday and today have been the most wonderful two days of my life," she said. "Lucia is so much more than I remembered her, so intelligent, so passionate, so wise. "We made love last night, and this morning, and it was like nothing I've ever experienced. I felt more love than I've ever felt in my life. I hope she wants to be with me, because I swear it was wonderful for her, too. Please do everything you can to help me. I don't want to lose her." This confused me. On the one hand I was almost ecstatic that she was so happy, but I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach I was losing her. "What does this mean for me?" I asked. "You can't think of just yourself right now, Gregg," she replied. "This is the most important thing that's ever happened to me, and I need your support. It's very important to me that I have your support." With that I got down on my knees and kissed her feet. "You always have my support, Lynette. Mistress," I said. She pulled me up in front of her and hugged me again fiercely. "Thank you. This means more than you know," she said. She told me to return to my seat. "We talked about you, too, you know," Lynette said. "Lucia knows what a support you've been to me, and she appreciates it, too." She sat back in her chair a moment. "There will be some changes," she said. "I won't be requiring intimate service any more. I think Lucia wants me to herself, and that's the way I want it, too." She continued, "There will be no need to resume your journal. We don't need it." She went on and outlined a few other changes. Now, whenever I was inside the house and I saw either woman, or both together, unless there were guests, I was to kneel and put my head to the floor until instructed otherwise. "This will help preserve our privacy," she said. When instructed to raise my head, I was to crawl over and kiss the woman's feet, until told to rise and be about my business. Lynette and Her Guest If I heard either woman call out, "First position," I immediately was to kneel on the floor facing the woman with my knees spread and my hands behind my back. She outlined two or three other positions as well, and had me demonstrate them. Each morning, before work on workdays, and whenever it suited the women on other days, I was to bring them breakfast in bed. She showed me a standard menu and said I would receive a phone call each morning to tell me when, and if there were additional or different menu items that morning. I would leave the breakfast by the bedroom door and knock once, unless instructed otherwise. She said she no longer would give me a list of chores, but would punish me if I fell slack on any or overlooked anything else that needed to be done. When both women were together I was to address her unfailingly as "Mistress," and Lucia equally unfailingly as "Ma'am." "Now I want to show you to Lucia," Lynette said. She had me go back to my room, shed my clothes and return to her in the kitchen. When I got back to the kitchen, I dropped to my knees immediately, with my face to the floor. "Very good!" said Lynette laughing. "You may rise." I raised up, crawled to her feet and kissed them before getting to my feet. "Wait here a moment," she said. "And then come out to the living room." She left the kitchen, and I did as she said. Then I went into the living room. Lucia and Lynette were sitting on the couch with Lucia nearest me. She was wearing a bikini top and a long print skirt with orange flowers on it. Her sandals were white. As soon as I saw her I dropped to the floor. "Very good," Lucia said. "He may just work out for us," and to me, "You may rise." Immediately I crawled over and kissed her feet. "Position one!" Lynette called out, and I assumed the position in front of Lucia. She took a foot out of her sandal and nudged my thigh. My sex responded very quickly. "Excitable boy," laughed Lucia. "But even so very pretty. I like him." She looked me over for a couple more minutes. Then Lynette had me assume position two, on my knees facing away with my legs spread wide. "Nice and clean," Lucia said, as her toe nudged the cheek of my bum. "I think he needs to get us some drinks," Lucia said. "You're right," said Lynette. "Gregg, get us some margaritas." I did as told and for the next two hours I got them their drinks and kept their places clean as they sat and conversed softly in Portuguese, with many a giggle and nuzzle. Later Lynette had me take the glasses away and come assume position one in front of them. Lucia reached out and put the nipple clamps on me. "We're going to talk," she said. "But the clips and your nudity and position one will remind you always, no matter how free the conversation seems to be who rules in this house. With that, and an occasional side conversation with Lynette in Portuguese, Lucia proceeded to interrogate me on my entire emotional and sexual history. She listened with particular intentness to the account of how Cynthia and I parted ways. "You have a temper sometimes, don't you," she said. "Not so much anymore, Ma'am," I replied. "You can get jealous," she said. "That's true, Ma'am. But Mistress," I said to Lynette, "You know your happiness comes first with me, and if I feel any jealous feelings I just have to deal with them." Lynette smiled and stroked my hair. "That's good my boy," said Lucia. "But know this. Lynette is your mistress, but she is my woman now." At this Lynette's eyes lit up like thousand-watt lamps. "I won't tolerate any attitude on your part that you have any rights with Lynette at all," continued Lucia. "I hope you understand," said Lynette. "Because you won't be able to stay here if you donot." "Yes, Mistress," I said as she and Lucia embraced with a deep kiss. I watched for a second before I put my head to the floor. "Bad boy," Lucia said after a few moments. "You weren't very quick getting your head to the floor. I think Lynette may want to punish you for that tomorrow morning." Lynette giggled, and told me to go to bed. I kissed each woman's feet and left the room. I was amazingly aroused, rock hard and panting as I lay down in bed. I wanted very badly to masturbate, but thought better of it. I decided in the morning, if I could catch Lynette alone, I would ask her permission to masturbate. I didn't sleep much, but I got up early to fix breakfast for the women. I left it by the bedroom door, knocking once as instructed, and began going about my chores. I was dusting the mantel when Lucia walked into the room. Immediately I dropped to my knees and put my face to the floor. "Rise to your knees," she said. I crawled over, kissed her feet, and assumed position one. "That's very nice," she said. "I think you do know your place. "And I can see," she continued, looking at the bulge in my pants, "You are enjoying this. Aren't you?" "Yes, Ma'am," I replied. "Thank you for breakfast, Gregg," she said. "It was good. "You are more than welcome, Ma'am," I said. "I have a question," she went on. "Why aren't you nude?" "Lynette has never asked it of me when I do chores, Ma'am," I replied. "Also it wouldn't always make sense, because I have to do yard work and other chores outside the house. "I think we could work around your stuff outside of the house," said Lucia. "If you were nude Lynette or I would know immediately your state of arousal, and whether or not you were fatigued. It would make it more difficult to hide things from her or me. Also it would remind you every time you looked down of what you are in this house and what you are to us. There would be no illusion you are equal. I think I'm going to talk to her about this." At this, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. I knelt there a few moments, stunned. Things were changing very fast. Then I got up and continued my chores. About half an hour later, Lynette walked into the room. She was wearing a red and blue and orange striped party dress, and looked stunning. Immediately I knelt to the floor. "Rise. Go to your room. Take off all your clothes and come kneel in front of the couch. Assume position one when you do." "Yes, Mistress," I murmured, as I crawled over to kiss her feet. Immediately I rose, and went to my room to do as I was told. When I was nude, I went back out to the couch and knelt in front of Lynette, who was sitting there. I kissed her feet and then assumed position one. She looked me over for a moment, and then, staring directly at my turgid penis, said. "Lucia was right. This certainly does excite you. I never realized how much, and having you nude certainly makes it easier to see. "Also you always have had a dangerous tendency sometimes to act as if you are equal to me, and you being nude while you do your inside chores will help remind you you are not. It will make it harder for you to conceal your feelings, and if you ever lie to me, I'll know sooner." I started to protest I would never lie to her. "No. Hush," she said. "I'm going to do what Lucia suggests, any time we do not have guests and you are doing inside chores for us or fixing our meals, or anything else to serve us, I want you to be nude. Do you understand?" Yes, Mistress, I do," I replied. "Good," she said. "You're dismissed. Go on about your chores." "Oh, Mistress there is one thing." "What is it," she said with more than a hint of impatience. "Mistress, would it be OK after I finish my chores if I could masturbate. I haven't had an orgasm in three weeks and the pressure's intense. I need this," I pleaded. "No. I don't want you to masturbate," said Lynette. "You know, I think this is something we should have talked about last night. Lucia is sunbathing in the back yard. Put on some gym shorts, go out there, and tell her I'd like it if she could join us here." "Yes, Mistress," I said. I kissed her feet and went to comply. When I got to the back yard, Lucia was lying on a chaise in the tiniest red bikini I ever saw. Immediately I went down on my knees and put my face to the ground. "Stay there and tell me what you want," said Lucia. "Ma'am, Mistress has asked if you could join us in the living room. She has something important to discuss." "Very well. Tell her I'll be there in a moment. Turn around with your face to the ground, and only then may you get up to go back in the house." "Yes Ma'am," I said, and did as I was told. I presented myself to Lynette in position one, and a few moments later Lucia walked in wearing a long white blouse and a belt over her bikini. "Hi Sweetheart," said Lucia as she sat down, and embraced and kissed her lover. "Hi to you, too, Beautiful," said Lynette, smiling and kissing back with enthusiasm. Then the two women turned to face me. "So what is happening?" asked Lucia. "Well," said Lynette. "Gregg here asked me for permission to masturbate. I told him no, of course, but then I realized we didn't explain that part of this to him last night." "You are right. We did not. Silly us," said Lucia. "Well, I suppose you should tell him, then." Lynette looked me deeply in the eyes. "Gregg. Lucia and I have discussed this intensively. Our relationship is sacred, and we both believe you spilling seed in this house, or anywhere at all while you are with us, would profane what we have together. It would make what we are doing meaningless. "So I'm sorry, Gregg. You are not to even touch yourself any more unless it is absolutely essential for health or cleaning. You are not to masturbate ever, and you certainly are not to come. This is a house of female power and pleasure and we won't have anything at all going on that detracts from it. Do you understand?" "Yes," I said. "But it will be so difficult." "I know, sweet boy," said Lynette. "But you cannot stay with us if you cannot accept this. I would have to ask you to leave this house today, if you were to say no." "I'll do it for you, Mistress," I said. "It will be so difficult, so very very difficult. But I will do it for you." "Good boy. Thank you, Gregg," said Lynette, stroking my cheek. "Maybe you should send him back to his chores," said Lucia to Lynette, with a predatory look in her eyes. "I think I have got business with you, sweet girl. "Then I think we should go do business," said Lynette with a smile and a chuckle. "Get to your chores, Gregg." As I backed away and got up, the two women stood, grabbed each other by the hand and ran to the bedroom. In a few moments I began to hear giggles and moans and even shrieks as they got into their lovemaking. All the pleasure was theirs. It hurt. But I still wanted so much to serve. So every morning I got up early and made their breakfast, and put it by the bedroom door. Then I went to work or started my chores if it was a weekend. I worked on my chores Saturday and Sunday and most evenings. Whenever the work was inside I was nude as directed. Whenever they conversed with each other, at least when I was around, they spoke Portuguese. It felt to me they were very much in love, and female hormones were thick in the air inside. Once a week, they would sit together on the couch to instruct and discipline. I had to confess any wrong or fault, or any housework I had not completed on time. I would be wearing only the nipple clamps. They were very happy, so even though the confession episodes were very formal, with both women dressed in business clothes or evening wear, they were too happy to punish me severely. Most often I had to go stand in a corner for several hours to contemplate my faults and think how to improve, or wear the nipple clamps all night. A few times Lynette decreed I deserved a whipping. She had bought a wooden paddle and she used this on me. It hurt a lot. One time she asked Lucia to administer the whipping, and she went on until I started bleeding. They liked cooking dinner for each other, so I was banished from the kitchen and dining room during these times, and had to scrounge my own food after they were done. One morning after a few weeks of this I awoke ashamed. I had dreamed of Lynette and Lucia making passionate love on a beach, and had exploded in my sleep. I went to my bathroom, found some tissue and cleaned myself off. Then I washed and shaved and went ahead about the day, fixing breakfast like usual, and beginning my chores. But my heart wasn't in it. Lynette walked into the kitchen a couple of hours after I got started, and after the greeting ritual said, "You're dragging. You don't look happy. And you are not erect. Did you cheat on our agreement, Gregg?" She was angry now. "No Mistress," I said frantically. "I didn't. Well I did. But I didn't. What I'm trying to say, is I had a wet dream. I couldn't help myself." Now she was angry. "You won't ever take responsibility for anything, will you, Gregg? I hate what you did!" All of a sudden, Lucia appeared in the room, and I bowed my face to the floor. "What's the matter, little darling," I heard her say before she lapsed into Portuguese and Lynette started crying. "You bastard!" Lucia shouted. "You hurt my girl!" "But how can I stop it, Ma'am. I was asleep." Lucia told me to kneel up, and when I did she slapped me hard across the face several times. "You apologize to my Lynette! Do you hear me?" "I will, Ma'am." Then I said to Lynette, "Mistress, I'm so very sorry. I will do whatever I can to make it up to you." "This won't be easy," said Lynette. "Stay there. Lucia and I have to talk." With that both women left the room. Their conversation was long and intense. Finally Lynette appeared at the doorway. "Come into the living room and assume position one." I waited a moment so she could get situated and then came in and knelt before them. Lynette told me that what I had done had polluted the household, and that I was going to be severely punished. Nevertheless the women had talked it over and realized this was something that could not be prevented entirely. In the future, if I had a wet dream, I was to gather all the semen and eat it then and there so the only thing the seed would pollute would be my body. I was to do everything I could to wake up before orgasm if I had an erotic dream. If I failed, even after cleaning up this way, I would have to confess at the first opportunity and would be punished the same way I was going to be punished this week. Lynette told me to call in and schedule a week of vacation from work. She said I was grounded. For the entire week I could not leave the house without permission and not ever leave the property. I was to stay in my room unless doing chores or otherwise serving. Then Lucia put multiple clips on my testicles and penis. They hurt terribly. Lucia and Lynette both beat me with the paddle. They ordered me to wear the genital clips for four hours and to wear the nipple clamps all night. They sent me to my room. Then they went to their bedroom and made love. Each night before bed for the next week, I presented myself at their feet, and was clipped and beaten with the paddle. Each night I wore the clips to bed. After a week, the two women had me kneeling in front of them. "I hope this has made you understand clearly the importance of not letting any of your seed into this house," said Lynette. "It's a very important issue for both of us." "Do you understand now that everything that happens to you that is sexual is your responsibility, and you will have to pay the price if it is wrong?" added Lucia. "Yes Mistress. Yes Ma'am. I do understand. I will do everything I can to restrain myself. My pleasure should be to serve." "That's right," said Lucia. "The drive for male pleasure is at the heart of all the sorrow and horror that is in the world. I've seen that horror many times when I've worked as a journalist, and I hate it. It is up to responsible women like us to control and discipline the men in our power until they give up that drive and quit hurting the world. Then you and these other men may be trained in the higher pleasure of service. Men need to sacrifice. "A woman's pleasure is different. A woman's pleasure gives life. A woman's pleasure is life, and the pleasure of two women together is the most sacred thing that could possibly be. When you make our pleasure together easier, or do things so we can concentrate on each other, you do a very great thing. You should be proud. Are you proud to serve us?" "Yes Ma'am, I am," was my reply. "I love you both so much." At this I started crying. Each woman put a hand on one of my shoulders. "I think this is about all he can handle for tonight," said Lucia. Lynette nodded. Then she told me to go to bed. I cried myself to sleep. The next morning was Monday, so after I fixed the two women's breakfast, I hauled myself in to work. My performance had slacked off some in the past few weeks, but today, even though the sexual tension inside me was still intense, I felt peaceful, and was able to concentrate much better than recently. My secretary, who had always been a little afraid of me, commented on my improved mood. "I hope this means you are happier at home," she said. I just smiled. She had no earthly idea. At home that evening I got right to my chores. The women were out somewhere. I thought a lot about what Lucia had told me. It began to seem really right. And it began to feel good and to make me proud to be denied release. And Lucia and Lynette were each so wonderful and so talented. They were brilliant. And they were so beautiful together. I began in a way to feel their pleasure as my own. I began to feel there was a deeper pleasure in pleasing them than there could ever be from a simple three-second physical release. There were no more wet dreams. Mid-week I was again kneeling nude before them. "You seem in a much better mood," said Lynette. "That's nice." "Thank you, Mistress," I said. "You said you love us the last time we talked like this," she said. "What does that mean to you?" "It means I care for you very deeply, that I'd do anything for you, and that I'm willing to serve here as long as you both will have me," I replied. "That is a very limited way to look at it," said Lucia. "Listen," she said. "Love is the complete gift of the self. Not a negation but a gift. Its expression is sublime. You have to open your hart and know the other person's needs as only a woman can." "You have to feel and desire the other person's needs, and to be able to do so without any constraint," said Lynette. "I know you feel our needs now, but that's only because of our constant supervision, correction and training. You couldn't sustain it on your own. No man can." "That is why real love only can be felt between two women," said Lucia. "I feel so much more with Lucia than I could ever feel with you," said Lynette. "I care for you, and I love your service, but it's not the same." With that the two women kissed deeply, and my heart skipped a beat. "Mistress, Ma'am, how can I learn to feel this? So I can serve you better. So I can care more," I wailed. "You are doing the best you can, better than most men," said Lucia. "I don't think you are able to do more," said Lynette. "You are only a man." "My darling," said Lucia to Lynette. "Maybe we could educate him a little." With that the two women lapsed into an intense conversation in Portuguese that lasted almost fifteen minutes. I bowed my head and waited. "OK," said Lynette at the end, as I looked up. Lucia said, "Go to our bedroom. Pull the curtains. Light candles. Turn down the bed. Scatter rose petals on it. Make it perfect. Can you do this?" "Yes, Ma'am," I said. I rushed to do as she said. After about 45 minutes the room was ready. I went back to the living room to present myself and I found the two women in a clinch. Immediately I knelt to the floor. After a moment Lynette called me over. I knelt before them. "I'm not sure about this. Lucia has talked me into it. We'll just see how it goes," she said. Lynette and Her Guest Then she told me to go into the bedroom and prepare several jars of massage and sensual oils for use. "When you are done," she said, "Kneel with your face to the floor until we tell you otherwise." "Yes, Mistress," I said, and did as she asked. Several minutes later my face was on the floor as the two women came into the room. They got on the bed, and I heard them take off their clothes. "Rise Gregg," said Lynette. "Open your eyes." I did so. The two women were locked in a tight embrace with their legs wrapped around each other. "What you are about to witness is the highest expression of human love," said Lucia. "It is the only way for mortals to touch what's divine." "You are to place your hands behind your back, and remain motionless where you are," said Lynette. "If we need you to perform a task for us, you will do so immediately, and immediately after resume your position right there. You are not to close your eyes at all." "Learn, Gregg. Learn and feel. This is your chance," said Lucia. Then the two women turned to each other. They kissed deeply. Then Lucia pushed Lynette back onto a pillow. She kissed down Lynette's body, kissing and worshipping her arms and hands, moving to her breasts, and carefully suckling each one. Then Lucia kissed down Lynette's belly slowly licking Lynette's navel. Lucia worshipped each leg, spending time on Lynette's feet. She kissed up her lover's inner thighs, and arrived at her sex, first blowing on it softly, then nibbling gently, then diving deeper in until she was almost fucking Lynette with her tongue. All this time Lynette was bucking and moaning softly. Now the moans became more urgent as her climax approached. She bucked harder, exploded loudly, burst into giggles, and writhed for what seemed like several minutes. Lucia moved up to embrace her, one hand remaining on Lynette's sex, while Lynette enjoyed her orgasm. Now Lucia moved her body over Lynette who began kissing as first a hand then an arm then a breast or a leg was presented. Lynette kissed and nibbled eagerly as Lucia emitted sighs of satisfaction. After a few moments Lucia was straddling Lynette, and Lynette drank deeply of her nectar. Lucia drove her sex into Lynette's face as Lynette licked and kissed wildly. "More. More," Lucia said intensely in English. Lynette continued licking and kissing. After several minutes Lucia began bucking wildly. She grabbed Lynette's head in her hands and shoved Lynette's face deeper into her sex. She rode Lynette until her climax subsided. Then Lynette dragged her down into a romantic embrace. But it was far from enough. The two women went at each other five more times. The final time they faced each other and interlocked their legs so their genitals were rubbing against each other. Then slowly, intensely, while looking in each others' eyes, they made love this way. As their passion built I could swear I saw a glow between them. I suppose it could have been a trick of candlelight but I didn't remember placing any candle so it would shine just there. They continued their rhythm and the light grew brighter. Their eyes locked, and Lynette said, "I think I see the Goddess in you, Lucia." "I see her in you, too, my love," said Lucia. The light grew brighter. Maybe I was just tired. By now it was after three in the morning. Then both women, simultaneously, began coming, in rhythm together. They didn't make much noise, but their expressions, as they gazed into each others' faces were pure bliss. They came like that for a long time, and then they just embraced there, genital to genital, breast to breast, face to face. I began to weep softly. "The Goddess is with, in and between you," I said, though I don't know how I got that out. "I've never been this close to heaven. Thank you, Mistress. Thank you, Ma'am." The two women turned and smiled at me, and each reached out and touched a shoulder. "You have done well tonight," said Lucia. Lynette said, "We need some time alone. You should go to bed now." It was difficult to tear myself away from such beauty, and from the glow that was in the room, but I obeyed and went to bed. The next morning I slept until almost noon. Realizing I had not fixed breakfast for the two women, I jumped out of bed, and rushed out to the kitchen, where I found a note on the counter. It said, "Don't worry about breakfast sweet boy. Last night was wonderful. You are beginning to learn. Lynette & Lucia." They had gone out. Once again I burst into tears. After drying my eyes and getting a small bite to eat, I went on about my chores, completing them while it was still afternoon. When they walked in later on I was in my room reading. Lynette's phone rang, and I heard her call out, "It's for you, honey!" I heard Lucia talking on the phone for upwards of 20 minutes, but it wasn't English, so I didn't understand a thing. After the call the women went into the bedroom and closed the door. Next morning, I fixed breakfast as usual and went to work. Alison, my secretary told me, "You look good this morning. I like you when you're smiling." This was nice to hear. When I got home, I found Lynette sitting on the couch, crying. "What's the matter," I asked. "Lucia and I had a fight," she said between sobs. "She's got an offer to go and report for six months from Bosnia on human trafficking, and she wants so to go! It's like as soon as that offer happened, she forgot all about everything we said, and everything we have, and how much she said it means to her. She could have gotten a great job on the paper here, but she wouldn't do it!" "Where is she now," I asked. "I got so angry, I yelled at her to move out," Lynette said. "And then she just marched into the bedroom, packed all her stuff and called a cab. I pleaded and pleaded with her to stay, that I was sorry, that she meant the world to me, that I couldn't handle losing her." But when the cab came, she had the driver load up her stuff, and she didn't even tell me where she would be staying." She started crying again. "It just hurts so much," she said. I asked if she needed a drink or something to eat, but she just waved me off and sent me to bed. At six the next morning, she knocked on my bedroom door, and poked her head in. "Don't bother with breakfast," she said. When I came home from work I found her vacuuming. "Here, I can do that," I said. "It's my house. I need to take care of it," she told me. Later on, I asked her if she wanted me to fix her dinner, but she told me no. This went on for a couple of months into the fall. I would come home and find her doing chores, or in her office working furiously on her book. I tried to keep up my rhythm of chores, but much of the time Lynette had already done it. She didn't ever let me fix her breakfast or dinner. And she wouldn't talk about it. She never once mentioned Lucia. As fall turned into winter, I was just keeping out of her way, and it hardly seemed like we were even friends any more. One day about a month before the end of the term, she asked me to sit with her at the kitchen table. I did so, and she looked me in they eye. I hoped for a moment she was ready to take control again, but she said, "Gregg. I'm going to have to ask you to move out at the end of the month. I asked why. She said, "Seeing you every day just reminds me of everything I can't have, and all the broken promises. I just can't handle it any more. I'm sorry, Gregg." "But isn't there something I can do to help," I asked. "No there isn't," she said. "Every nice thing you do just reminds me of what I've lost. The only thing you can do for me is leave as I've asked." I told her I would be out at the end of the month. Two weeks later I saw a big package on the end table, and Lynette said, "It's my book. It's off to the publisher today. Thanks for all you've done." Then she gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but it didn't change anything. When I told Alison I was looking for a new place, I was astonished when she told me I could move in with her. "I have a big place left over from my marriage," she said. "My ex wasn't much of a husband, but the divorce settlement couldn't have been nicer," she laughed. So the end of the month, I said goodbye to Lynette, packed up all my stuff and moved in with Alison. A few weeks later, we became lovers, and a few weeks after that I proposed marriage to her and she said yes. I continued to see Lynette around town, and we would say hi, but nothing more. Alison met her once, and didn't like her much. I expect Lynette got her tenure, since she's still in town. But I don't really know. Later that year, I saw Lucia's byline in some lefty publication, a story about human trafficking in the Balkans. She was identified as the magazine's Paris correspondent, so it appeared she was still trotting the globe. Alison knew I was infatuated by Lynette, but she didn't know there was a relationship; let alone what kind of relationship. I didn't think she knew about Lucia at all. There was not a whiff of D & S in Alison's approach to me, but I loved her very much and felt as though I was happy. As far as I knew, the way Lynette and Lucia related to one another was impeccable. Even though Lucia was the dominant party in her relationship with Lynette, she always deferred to Lynette as my Mistress when any conflict arose between what Lucia had asked me to do and what Lynette had wanted. In the end I went without any orgasm for at least seven months, but still I remember that time as one of bliss. I think it may have contributed to my passion when Alison and I started as lovers. Cynthia and Lynette and Lucia were in the past now. I didn't regret any moment of either relationship, and I didn't regret what I had had with Susan. But it was all in the past. My plan was just to be good to Alison.