4 comments/ 57797 views/ 10 favorites Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 01 By: orencool This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein a young man teaches the mother of his girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures - sexual and otherwise - along the way. Here we meet our hero, James Masterson. He's a handsome young devil with an eye on the ladies - of all ages, from eighteen to - well, you'll see. He's smart, confident and well-experienced too. But now, he has been confronted with a woman that seems to require a bit of discipline. Not to worry - he can handle it... Mrs. Hart's Ache I Eighteen Is A Very Good Year Mrs. Veronica Hart had been pissing me off for a couple of months now. She was about to begin paying for it. Big Time. Her daughter, Missy is the girl of any guy's dreams: 18 years old, about 5'7", and maybe 115 in her itty bitty thong bikini. Missy has everything: * A fresh, girl-next-door face with a sweet demeanor and a dazzling smile. * A lithe, athletic body with tanlines defining small, strategic patches of creamy white skin. * Girl-firm, conical breasts that stand out from her chest and that quiver slightly when she walks (a true 34D plus a pinch for those lusciously puffy pink nipples). * A 21" waist flaring to gently curved hips and down again to tight thighs, shapely calves and slender ankles. * A deliciously compact little butt that sits high and tight atop those long dancer's legs, with curved cheeks that fit very nicely in my cupped hands. * Emerald green eyes that with a glance can melt any guy to a quivering mound of jello. * Long, naturally wavy hair of that particularly lustrous auburn shade which can't be bottled. * Best of all, it is a complete package: there's a razor-sharp brain behind that lovely façade. Missy's the soloist in the school chorus. She speaks Italian with a Tuscan accent. Tutors calculus. Slaloms (pick the skis or board). Plays Scott Joplin ragtime, Tom Grant tunes and Mozart concertos on the piano with equal verve. Loves the Three Stooges. Placed second in State on the Balance Beam. She also has the kind of shy, sweet demeanor that makes this guy's heart pound, most definitely. There's not a jealous or bitchy bone in her body. And best of all, for reasons that I cannot fathom, she loves my ass. I know that because she told me so the first time she went down on me. Her mother Veronica is the Chairman and CEO of one of the slicker high fashion magazines. She got bored after having Missy, and decided to spend some of his money. Now she's wealthy in her own right. Their house and grounds are everything that money can buy: political connections, gated community, live-in servants and a circle of the "right" sort of friends. You know: the "important" things in life. Missy's dad, George, is the Senior VP (Acquisitions) for an international conglomerate. He spends a lot of time traveling. My mother is an ICU/Surgical Nurse (RN), originally from Australia. My dad is a recently retired MCPO (AM) USN. Dad's the size of a Mack truck and the disposition of a poet. He's a thirty-year Navy Airedale who wooed and won the love of his life. From then on, he took his beloved wife and, eventually, their young son with him whenever he could. Time out. When he was (as he says) a young and stupid third class, he was a plane captain aboard a carrier on Yankee Station in the Gulf of Tonkin. One afternoon his pilot, a young Lieutenant, brought in their very sick Phantom after a rough Strike mission up North. There were 23mm flak holes everywhere. The RIO, a JG on his third mission, was down for the count with a sucking chest wound. The pilot had to bring it in. When the hook failed to deploy, the F-4 took the barrier. The left engine was burning beneath the crew. The Rescue Crew was a little slow that day. That was their third emergency in about as many minutes. Dad was the first man up the side. He popped the canopy, yanked the dazed pilot out bodily and tossed him into the arms of the Rescue Crew, now coming up fast. Then he pulled the unconscious RIO from his seat and passed him down with more care. At that point he says he'd used up all of his luck. He jumped to the deck just as the cockpit floor burned through, setting off the ejection seats. Dad nearly broke his ankles, and did get his hands and face singed (second degree burns), plus a hole in his shoulder from flying debris. Everybody lived. What was left of the still smoking jet went over the side. Quick, before anything else bad happened. The ship's Safety Officer was royally pissed. He was a JG ring-knocker who had bombed out of Flight Training. He said that dad had no business getting up ahead of his Rescue Crew. (True.) The Master Chief running the flight deck testified that the only reason the flight crew was alive was because a young sailor showed initiative and reacted quickly. (Also true.) The squadron CO (a Commander), the CAG (a Captain), the ship's Captain (a deep-dip Rear Admiral-selectee) and the COM 7th Fleet (a Vice-Admiral and a mustang) had all witnessed the action from various vantage points on the island. All wore the wings of gold. They all read the Safety Officer's preliminary report. None would endorse it. Then the admiral had a discussion with him. The discussion was brief and very one-sided. The Safety Officer wrote the official report shortly thereafter, one which was endorsed by all. Dad got a medal - the CO used the Safety Officer's official report as the recommendation - thirty days basket leave and a spot promotion to Second Class. Oh, that Safety Officer got somewhat of a promotion too shortly thereafter. Unfortunately for him, it came as a transfer to an ammunition ship as Damage Control Assistant. That's the officer (Assistant to the ship's Captain) directly responsible for fighting fires and the like aboard ship. Fighting a fire in the cargo hold of a ship loaded with ammunition - while everyone else aboard is manning the lifeboats - is not the most sought after job in the Navy. The job of DCA on an ammunition ship goes by tradition to the young officer who most displeases the occupant of the flag quarters. You know: the guy with the shiny gold stars on his shoulder boards. As DCA, he eventually made Lieutenant, but was passed over for LCdr. He went on to fame and fortune as a twice-divorced insurance salesman in Fresno. Meanwhile dad worked hard and played hard. He advanced through the ranks, making all the right moves. He kept in touch with the pilot and the RIO, even after the RIO left the service. Dad was dedicated sailor. He was also a very dedicated bachelor. You know the old saw about sailors? Dad lived it. He had girls in every port, many eager to become Mrs. Sailor. But none managed to slip a ring on his finger. He'd seen far too many military marriages steam south, leaving havoc in the wake. More importantly, he hadn't met the right woman. Then one day he checked in to a new squadron, and went to the hospital to drop off his records. There he met The Right Woman. As Dad tells it he walked through the doors and got smacked between the eyes with a five-foot-two and 105-pound blue-eyed, blond-haired angel with an Australian accent. Mom says when he first looked into her eyes, she could hear, not bells, but the distant echoes of women wailing. From that moment Dad was forever off the market. He was a seasoned thirty-two-year-old CPO. She was a civilian nurse just twenty-six, originally from Perth. A month later, they were married. Mom says she was pregnant about twenty minutes after making the honeymoon suite. So voilá, here I am. The pilot now has four stars and is next in line for CNO, while former the RIO is currently the senior Senator from this state in DC. They're also my godfathers, so I guess you might say that my family has connections too. Dad and mom now run their own little maintenance operation at the local airpark. They hold hands whenever they're out together. I grew up aboard Navy Bases on both coasts and around the world. Dad says that I've had the best kind of education. I agree. I started flying lessons when I was twelve. Since then I've logged about 500 hours. I'm currently certified commercial and multi-engine, working on jets. By the way, my name is James Masterson. James to my friends. Only my mother gets to call me Jimmy. Time in. Missy and I had known each other for about a week. That day we were lounging around her pool after school. I had on a new pair of baggys and she had on a tiny little neon blue thong bikini that kept getting stuck in my eye. Damn! That girl can wear a bikini! We did a couple of laps together, then had an impromptu swan dive competition. Each of us insisted the other had won. We toweled off and laid in the sun just gabbing about things. After a bit she offered me a soda. Of course I said yes. She tugged my arm, pulling me up from the lounger, into the caba¤a and out of sight of any prying eyes. In the cool half-light, she stepped up to me, slipped her arms around my neck and tilted her head back, begging for a kiss. I obliged. We kissed for a few minutes while I massaged her bare asscheeks. But when I cupped her head and pushed my tongue through her sweet lips, she moaned and pressed herself against me, molding her half-naked body to mine. Her arms tightened around my neck. Her gorgeous tits flattened against my bare chest. My cock began to rise and thicken against her mound. Mr Snake smelled PUSSY!!! Time out. Now I may be just 18. (Yeah I know. I'm young. But I can't help it. That's the way God made me. Besides, young doesn't always mean inexperienced. I've got more 'experience' than guys twice my age.) But have this thing. I can't explain it, but it's real: I can pick up vibes from people, particularly women and I know. It's like I can see into their subconscious. Missy, whether she knows it or not, is at heart a submissive. Don't get me wrong. In her everyday life, she comes across as a strong and confident young lady. But underneath it all, she craves domination. I am just the guy to give it to her. Before you get all bent out of shape, let me say that I am not one of those macho assholes who get their kicks beating on women. I can give you a list of girls (for that matter, a range of females from my age to forty-something) all of whom believe that I'm one of the nicest guys they know. The first trick is to find out what motivates the lady. Then you decide whether or not you are willing to pay that price. If so, you give it to her in spades: whole-heartedly, holding back nothing. She will be thrilled. The second trick is harder. It is the ability to concentrate. I learned it from my sensei. To be successful at anything, you must have the ability to focus completely on your objective. It doesn't matter whether you're executing a strike, hitting an iron shot, or kissing a woman. I'm good at the focus thing. The third trick isn't really a trick. It's so basic, that most guys overlook it: I know how to kiss. Most guys approach a girl like a large-mouth bass going after a minnow. You know, they close their eyes, open their mouths and latch on like a suction cups. Then they stick their tongues down the girl's throat like their counting her tonsils by Braille. Ehhhhggg. Wrong! You lose! Kissing is an art. It's as intimate as having sex. A girl's lips can bruise easily. There are times when the lady wants to really suck face. But not always. Believe me, if you take your time and show some tenderness, she'll let you know when. Three women, all of independent means in their late 30's / early 40's, have each asked me to move in with them. Other's have chosen to be submissive to me. A couple of them have named me 'Master'. No brag; just fact. Hell, even the dykes like me. The local chapter of one of the national lesbian rights group adopted me as their brother 'sister' after I beat the shit out of three redneck yahoos out on a big night. I took a night course in Astronomy last term at the local college. Late one night after class I came across Larry, Moe and Stupid in the parking lot with a young coed spread out across the hood of her car. She knew one of them slightly. One of those brother of a friend of a friend things. He knew that she was a lesbian. Apparently they were convinced that a stiff dick or three would change her religion. Erin is small. Her cheek was bruised. She was struggling as best she could though out-weighed by a bunch. The hosers had their dicks out, scratching their heads, trying to figure out how to work the zipper on her jeans. None of them saw me coming. Soon Larry was on the deck, lights out after using his head to cave in the quarter panel of his truck... Moe was writhing on the ground screaming and clutching at his leg, but desperate not to move it. He was crying real tears. His kneecap sure looked odd turned sideways... Stupid, the big guy, had a knife. But somehow he managed to plant the blade hilt deep in right cheek of his own lard-butt. Imagine that. At the same time, his arm got twisted out of its socket, thereby destroying any chance he had for a pitching career in the penitentiary league. So sorry. After the dust settled, the Erin's Saphic sisters decided to make me an honorary member. Erin told me that the vote was unanimous. I went along with it 'cause it fits my twisted sense of humor. I'm listed as "Jamie" Masterson on their rolls, in deference to some twit at the national office. She called it "being Politically Correct". I call it prejudice against males. That her name is 'Michael' might be a clue. Larry, Moe and Stupid are lucky they got put away, out of reach. Three of my new friends, Cora, Marti and Maxine are all bigger than I. Each out-weighs me by at least fifty pounds. If those ladies had been on the scene, they would have fed the boys their own testicles. Literally. Maxine is a very big girl. As it is, I've heard vague rumors that those three have a special party planned for the boys when they are released. I don't know, getting gang-raped in the ass with the largest strap-on dildoes to be found by three hulking butch dykes isn't my idea of a great time. Particularly if at the same time the guest of honor is forced to suck on the severed end of his own dick. My crystal ball says that Moe will be bawling again soon. Anyway, I'm an honorary lesbian. We joke about it: I'm the only lesbian they know with a non-plastic penis and functional testicles. You should see the strange looks I get when I ride with my sister Dykes on Bykes in the Gay Pride parade. I'm the one with a hairy chest. Let's put it this way: I'm young. I'm intelligent (180 IQ, a 4.0 student, and not just because I've laid more than a few of the teachers and half the staffs of the schools I've attended). I'm a computer nerd, but I'm also 6'2", 195 in my bags. I'm just 18, but I look a few years older. I scored 1580 combined on the SAT. My taste in music runs from Mozart to Madonna. I love to tango. I'm a four handicap. I have a photographic memory. Missy and I play duets on the piano. Only the Dr. Chan, the Head of the Science Dept. and I are authorized to operate the electron microscope at school. I'm into grand opera. I'm President of the student body this year. I have a thing for torch singers from the 1940's. I have a six-pack gut from wind surfing, rock-climbing and practicing Aikido (fourth kyu rank). I'm fluent in ten languages, including Japanese, Russian, Tagalog and Mandarin Chinese, and can make myself understood in a couple more. I have a disheveled mop of sun-streaked brown hair over a (so women tell me) not-unhandsome face. I've also got a healthy-sized cock, a very talented tongue - can you lick the end of your nose? - and I know how to use both to the joy of any female in my arms. And, most importantly, I have a sense of, and know how to maintain, discipline. Personal and otherwise. One of my more thoughtful and articulate female friends says that I exude a quiet confidence, and a quiet competence. Women seem to be drawn to those traits, and to me. Oh, and it doesn't hurt that I love pussy. I love to eat pussy. Young, old, anywhere in between. I love all of it. My two prejudices are that fat turns me off (plump is great but obesity is unacceptable) and I cannot stand pubic hair, particularly in my teeth. Even mine is well groomed. Oh I'll make love to a woman with a bush. (Reference the first sentence in the penultimate paragraph.) But I refuse to go down on her, even if her beard is neatly trimmed. My chin breaks out in a rash. Yeah, that's the ticket. On the other hand, if a female presents me a smooth pussy, I'll give her a glimpse of Nirvana. I've been licking bare pussy - well, let's just say that I learned to play 'Doctor' early. I'd like to tell you more, but the rules being what they are, all I can say is the I got to know my best buddy's sister very well. And she, me. Certain 'sitters too. I had been going through an intense growth spurt (pun intended). Annette, got a look at the size of my prick. Annette swallows. Annette also gave me my all-time best birthday present, right in my own bed. Though I must admit the present my godfathers arranged for my last birthday is a close second. Not very many guys my age get to fly backseat to a Navy Test Pilot in an F-14D Super Tomcat. You want a thrill? Try straight up at Mach plus with a couple of 27,000-pound thrust rockets strapped to your ass. I can't tell it all, what with certain Navy careers at risk, but I will say that Navy pilots have balls of cast iron. Even the women. (Or is it that they have tits of cast iron...? Nah! LCdr. Cindi didn't. Nice nipples though. Very responsive. And a sweet pussy.) The ladies of a very high-class house in Misawa helped perfect my technique when Dad was stationed in Japan. They thought I was cute. Mom thought I was playing ball with the locals. I was balling with the locals all right. The ladies took over my sexual education after I rescued a cat that turned out to be the Mama-San's favorite pet. That I spoke the language and observed the local customs didn't hurt. ("When in Rome...") There aren't many Navy dependents that take the time to learn such things. Lord, what a great experience! If every kid got that kind of training, there'd be a lot less conflict in the world. Make love, not war! One of the best things about getting older is that the range of pussy available extends. My range now is my classmates to women in their late forties, though I am thinking about extending that. There's this new neighbor down the street. She's a widow, fifty-something, with two daughters in their twenties. All three are bodacious beautiful. The widow has given me that 'come-hither' look along with an invitation to use her pool any time I want. Hmmm, I may have to swim a few laps soon. Time in. Missy suddenly slipped her hands down to my ass and began grinding her bikini-clad pussy against my cock, moaning as she tried to massage my tonsils with her tongue. I broke the kiss and looked down on her. Her eyes were still closed and her tongue slipped out to wet her bruised lips. She shuddered slightly, then opened her eyes. Her face was flushed, but she gave me that dreamy, taken look that every guy wants to see on a girl's face. I smiled at her, slipped the bow from the string tie from around her neck, and let her bikini top fall away from her breasts. Nice tits!!! As beautiful a set of breasts as I've ever seen: perfect high-set white cones, standing out from her tanned chest, with thick, button nipples jutting out from her puffy pink areolae. I cupped them, and caressed them gently, then lightly scraped my thumbnails across each crinkled nipple before bending down to give them a thorough licking. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 01 Time out. Shivering with the memory, Missy told me later that she felt my tongue all the way to her little pussy. She said that my tongue rasping across her nipples made her legs shaky and her little puss instantly juicy. Time in. After sucking her puffy pink nipples to full stand, I kissed her before pressing her down to her knees. She peppered my chest and belly with little kisses on the way down, leaving lipstick butterflies in her wake. Her fingertips slipped down my back, then hooked into my bags and jerked them to my thighs. My cock sprang upright, nearly smacking her chin. Her eyes widened and her face got a little pale when Missy got a close-up of my cock. She breathed "Whoa!", but I didn't give her a chance to back out. Mr Snake likes a warm, wet mouth almost as much as pussy. I laid a hand on the back of her head, holding her steady in place, lifted my cock by the base and told her to suck me. I was firm, but not ugly about it. Demanding but not outrageous, if you know what I mean. Missy moaned softy as my hand touched the back of her head. She shuddered again as she laid the head of my cock on her outstretched tongue, then wrapped her lips around the glans and sucked my shaft into her warm, wet mouth. Mr Snake was happy!!! Time out Now, as blowjobs go, it was beyond excellent for a beginner. She definitely has the talent. Believe me when I say that I'm an expert on what makes an outstanding blowjob. I know, because I've had females of all ages and experience suck my cock. A few were fabulous. Most were good. And a few were just okay. To be fair, those blowjobs that were just okay were the first given by those girls. Braces can alter the mood real fast if the girl isn't careful. But all of the girls learned quickly. Each got much better at sucking cock with practice. And yikes! did they ever practice. They all loved to practice. And then too, as every guy knows or should, the worst blowjob is wonderful. The sight of a female on her knees, looking up with soulful eyes and the head of his penis buried in her mouth gives any normal guy a thrill. Now, the best blowjob I've ever had - the best, that is, before I forced Mrs. Hart to suck me off - was given me by my mom's best friend, Lillian. Doctor Lillian Teasley, ED.D. is the fortyish, petite and definitely hot Vice-Principal in charge of discipline of my high school. She's also the faculty representative on the student council. Since I'm President this year, we meet. Often. Dr. (Mrs.) Teasley went down on my cock one afternoon in her private office. I was scheduled to be in study hall that hour. Instead I sat perched on the edge of her desk with my jeans at half-mast, and my dick straining for the ceiling. Lillian sat in her chair, with her skirt hiked to her waist, blouse unbuttoned, black lace bra open and bare tits bobbing in time with her head. She spent the better part of the hour sucking on my root and licking my sac while pumping my shaft. I gave her encouragement with a hand buried in her hair, holding her to her task, while telling her what a good little cumslut she was. While she sucked, I fondled her breasts and tweaked her fat nipples to red ripeness. She had a hand stuffed in her black bikini panties, diddling her clit. She brought herself off three times before I filled her mouth with cum the first time. She absolutely loves it when I cup the back of her head, pinch her fat nipples and talk trash. Dr. Teasley swallows. Dr. Teasley also gets wet when she's spanked. Time in. Missy gobbled my cock with enthusiasm, but I could tell that she had not had much practice, if any, giving head. She confirmed that later when she told me that mine was the first cock she'd taken in her mouth. I just went along with it for a few minutes, enjoying her lips pulling at the glans. Then I taught her to feather her tongue along the bottom of my prick, gently fondle my balls and pump my shaft. Before too long, she'd learned to open her throat and take most of my dick deep. Time out. That surprised me a little 'cause first, in general, women find it hard to overcome the gag reflex without some work. Second, no brag; no bullshit, I've got a fair-sized dick for a white boy: an RCH over ten inches long, two plus inches wide and about seven inches around. One of my girl friends made the 'white boy' comment as she measured my dick with her mother's seamstresses tape. Celia was a stunning black girl I got to know at NAS JAX. She had pointy tits and a sweet, sweet pussy. She measured my dick, then I measured her chest. (32C; very pointy tits; tipped with delicious little brown buttons. At the time, we were together in her bed. Not every woman can swallow my dick when it's at full stand. That beauteous young lady could and did take the whole thing.) Third, Missy has a cute little mouth with cupid lips, which I didn't think could stretch wide enough to take the head in, let alone take it all in. Time in. Missy's eyes got real big, but her lips did stretch wide, and she controlled that natural gag reaction after a few tries. I think she even surprised herself how quickly she learned to deep-throat me. She is almost as good at that as the ladies in Misawa. She wrapped one arm around my hips, grabbing a handful of my bare ass. Then she reached down and started rubbing her sweet little pussy through her bikini. While she squeezed her clit, she took the head of my dick deep, massaging it with her throat muscles. Before long she was shivering and shaking, on the verge of an orgasm. Don't ya just love it when a girl cums while giving you a blowjob!?! Missy certainly loved it. She pulled back, took a deep breath, then jammed her face down on my prick. With my dick lodged deep in her throat, she closed her eyes and began moaning as she clutched at her pussy and strummed her clit through her suit. Even standing before her I could see that the pouch of her bikini was damp where it stretched tight over her plumb pussylips. Her cum made her inner thighs shiny wet. I didn't disappoint her either. When she moaned, her lips buzzed around my cock, pulling me over the edge with her. I clutched her head to me as she came, forcing my throbbing dick that much deeper into her throat. I came a half-second later, shooting ropes of cum down her open throat. I came so much, her sweet mouth filled with my thick, white seed. God she was gorgeous there on her knees, bare white breasts bobbing as she shuddered in the throws of her orgasm, with my throbbing cock buried in her mouth and my cum leaking from the corners of her ruby-moist lips. Missy Hart swallows too. Now that I think back on it, I have to say that it was by far the best first-time blowjob I've ever experienced. Missy Hart definitely has the raw talent for sucking cock. It must come from her mother: Veronica Hart may be a stuck up bitch girlfriends-mother-from-hell, but she's also a fellatrix of the first order, as I was to subsequently learn first hand. As I came down from the peak, I eased my grip on Missy's head and started to pull back. But Missy surprised me again by holding me close. She sucked the last of the cum from my cock, then licked her lips. Then she held my cock by the base and licked the shaft up and down, cleaning up every drop before swallowing it all down with an impish smile. I reached down to wipe a few drops of cum from her chin. Missy took my hand, looked me in the eye and sucked the cum from my fingertips as he squeezed her pussy a last time. That was hot! Finally she used my arm to pull herself to her feet and melted into my arms. She wrapped her arms around my waist and laid her head on my shoulder, still breathing deeply. She quivered there eyes closed her heart still racing, her naked breasts pressed against my chest. When her breathing slowed and her trembling eased a bit, she leaned back in the circle of my arms. She traced circles on my chest for a moment, then looked up into my eyes with a guarded smile. She played with my chest hairs for a minute, then told me shyly that, whether I liked it or not, she was beginning to love me a little bit. Now I've heard that before. More than once. It doesn't freak me as much as it used to. I make it real clear from the very beginning that I'm too young and have way too many things to do before I settle down with one woman. I smiled and squeezed the cheeks of her bare ass, snapped her thong and I told her that I loved her a little bit too. That's true. I love all my female friends a little bit. Missy smacked my back with a grin and said "Oh sure!", but her mien lightened markedly. She hugged me again, kissed my cheek, then leaned back and pulled her bikini top up over her yummy tits. She made a show of settling her breasts in the soft cups just so while giving me an evil grin. Just watching made my dick start to stiffen again. Missy's grin grew wide as my cock snaked up the bare skin of her thigh. She caught it and gave the shaft a gentle squeeze before slipping my baggies up around my waist again. We were both reluctant to end it there, but she'd promised her mother to run some errands, and I had a couple of things to do myself before it got any later. Never did get my soda. That was the first time Missy Hart blew me. We've repeated the scene quite a few times since then, and she's only gotten better. She tells me that she loves to suck my cock, and I believe her. But she really loves it when I lick her pussy. I had mentioned my prejudice, and the next time I slipped the knots from her bikini (a little bitty green one that time), I saw that she had taken my word to heart. Man, oh man! She had gone in for a honeymoon wax job. I mean total! There wasn't the first stray curl to be found anywhere. Smoother than a baby's butt. Time out. What is that all about anyway!?! Be honest now. Could you imagine going into some shop, dropping your boxers then laying back on a couch, spreading your legs and pulling your knees up so some guy could spread wax on your crotch, then rip the hairs out by the roots!?! No way! No fucking way amigo!!! Women are strange. I love 'em, but they're definitely strange. But it's all good, 'cause I'm strange for hairless pussy. Time in. Missy blushed when saw my reaction as I got my first look at her beautifully bare little puss. She told me that shaving her armpits and legs was a pain in the ass, so she bit the bullet and treated herself to a wax job. Missy said her hairless pussy made her feel nasty, like she was naked even when wearing panties. (Not that she normally wore panties. Missy wears thongs. I can tell when it's her time of the month. She has pantylines embossing her shorts.) Time out. Later she confessed that she had gotten a little wet when the hairs came out, which by the way, tends to confirm the impression that she's as much of a submissive as many other of my lady friends. Time in. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index Airedale - The USN enlisted specialties are are broken into four main groups: Administrative/Medical/Dental Aviation (or Airedale - a somewhat pejorative term.) Construction Engineering/Hull barrier - a netting made of extremely strong straps which is stretched across the deck of an aircraft carrier; the barrier is used to 'catch' an aircraft in an emerengency situation, usually when the tailhook is nonfunctional for any reason. basket leave - euphemism for leave (vacation) which is not counted toward a military person's normal allotment of thirty days per year; the paperwork is left in the basket on the desk; not processed and therefore not counted. bombed out – failed CAG - Commander, Air Group; the CO of all aircraft squadrons aboard an aircraft carrier; responsible for the readiness of all aircraft, crews and maintenance personnel aboard the carrier. Captain - USN commisioned officer rank (O6); equal in rank to a Colonel USMC, USA or USAF; rank badge is a silver eagle plus four 1/2" gold stripes or bands. CNO - Chief of Naval Operations; the senior commissioned officer of the US Navy. CO - Commanding Officer. COM 7th Fleet - Commander, 7th Fleet. Commander - USN commissioned officer rank (O5); equal in rank to a Lieutenant Colonel USMC, USA or USAF; rank badge is a silver oak leaf, plus three 1/2" gold stripes or bands. CPO - Chief Petty Officer (E7); USN enlisted rank. deep-dip-selectee - person chosen for promotion early, ahead of others of equal rank, usually as a result of extreme competence and demonstrated ability. F-4 - Twin-seat Fighter/Strike/Reconnaissance jet aircraft; F-4 Phantom II (various configurations); see 'Phantom'. F-14 - USN twin-seat Fighter/Strike jet aircraft; known as the 'Tomcat' or 'Super Tomcat'; various configurations; see the movie 'Top Gun'. Four stars - The rank of an Admiral; USN commissioned officer (O10); equal in rank to a General USMC, USA or USAF; rank badge is four silver stars, plus one 2" and three 1/2" gold stripes or bands. hook - the tailhook; the piece of equipment attached to the airframe of an aircraft making it capable of landing on an aircraft carrier; the tailhook catches one of the arresting cables stretched across the landing area of the carrier, bringing the aircraft to an abrupt stop. Very abrupt. JG - Lieutenant Junior Grade; USN commissioned officer rank (O2); equal in rank to a First Lieutenant USMC, USA or USAF; rank badge is one silver bar, plus one 1/2" and one 1/4" gold stripes or bands. ICU - Intensive Care Unit. LCdr. - Lieutenant Commander; USN commissioned officer rank (O4); equal in rank to a Major USMC, USA or USAF; rank badge is a gold oak leaf plus one 1/4" gold stripe or band between two 1/2" gold stripes or bands. Lieutenant - USN commissioned officer rank (O3); equal in rank to a Captain USMC, USA or USAF; rank badge is a gold oak leaf plus two 1/2" gold stripes or bands. MCPO (AM) USN - Master Chief Petty Officer (Aircraft Mechanic) United States Navy (E9); USN enlisted rank; rank badge is three chevrons with a rocker bar with eagle attached to the top chevron and two stars above; the insignia for the person's specialty is located between the rocker bar and the top cheveron. mustang - former enlisted person, subsequent to becoming a commisioned officer. NAS JAX - Naval Air Station Jacksonville, Florida. plane captain - Enlisted person responsible for the readiness of a particular specific aircraft; the plane captain also assists the aircrew before take-off and after landing. Phantom - McDonnell Douglas F-4J Phantom II jet aircraft. North (as in 'Up North') - Over the territory of what was then North Vietnam. RCH - an old, rather obscene Navy term meaning the tiniest bit: the thickness of a Red Cunt Hair. Red hair curls because it's flat, therefore thin. Rear Admiral - USN officer ranks Rear Admiral (lower half); (O7); formerly known as 'Commodore'; equal in rank to a Brigadier General USMC, USA or USAF; rank badge is one silver star, plus one 2" gold stripe or band. Rear Admiral (upper half); (O8) - equal in rank to a Major General USMC, USA or USAF; rank badge is two silver stars, plus one 2" and one 1/2" gold stripes or bands. ring-knocker - A graduate of one a military academy, in this case, the US Naval Academy; also the US Military Academy West Point (Army), the US Air Force Academy and the US Coast Guard Academy. RIO - Radar/Intercept Officer, also known as the GIB, or Guy In Back. RN - Registered Nurse. Sapphic - Lesbian; devotee of Sappho, a Classic Greek poetess who wrote of the love between women. Saw - Maxim; saying; a sometimes-apocryphal tale. 'Sister' - Lesbian; a member of a club for lesbians in this tale. Second Class - Petty Officer Second Class (E5); enlisted person USN; the rank badge is two chevrons with an eagle above and the persons specialty insignia, located between the eagle and the top chevron. Strike - Attack/bombing mission. Surgical (nurse) - Trained and qualified to assist in surgury. Tagalog - A language spoken on some islands of the Philipines. Test Pilot (Navy) - Pilot, USN, and graduate of the US Naval Test Pilot School, NATC Patuxent River ('Pax River') Maryland. Third Class - Petty Officer Third Class (E4); enlisted person USN; the rank badge is one chevron with an eagle above and the persons specialty insignia, located between the eagle and the chevron. Vice-Admiral - USN officer rank (O9); equal in rank to a Lieutenant General USMC, USA or USAF; rank badge is three silver stars, plus one 2" and two 1/2" gold stripes or bands. wings of gold - insignia worn only by a person selected and trained as a military aircraft pilot. Yankee Station - An area of the Gulf of Tonkin in the South China Sea off the coast of what was then North Vietnam. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 02 Here is the second chapter of Mrs. Hart's Ache. Please include it under the category Novels and Novellas. For the sake of the readers, I've included an index which defines some of the more obscure terms. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. Here we meet Mrs. Hart for the first time, as well as the Hart residence Housekeeper Miriam. We also learn a bit more about our hero's family, specifically his mother, but also he himself and about how his parents get along together. Here too our hero first begins to think about teaching Mrs. Hart a few manners. Planning is the most important step, and our hero is nothing if not thorough. Thanks, and happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mrs. Hart's Ache II First Impressions "She also has the kind of shy, sweet demeanor that makes this guy's heart pound, most definitely. There's not a jealous or bitchy bone in her body." I just figured it out. Missy is the way she is because her mother is the complete opposite: demanding, sarcastic, definitely jealous and as bitchy as they come. Mrs. Hart, the bitch-girlfriend's-mother-from-hell, is so selfish that she kept all those parts for herself. It makes so much sense when you think about it. All that remained for Missy were the best of the feminine qualities. There is also the fact that the Housekeeper, Miriam, essentially raised Missy. My mother is the sweetest, kindest, most generous person I know, no doubt. Ask anyone who knows her. They'll tell you the same thing. Miriam runs a close second. We understood each other, and hit it off from the first moment. She is one wise lady. She's also hell on wheels when she's pissed. Just like Mom. Missy introduced us, then went put some things in her room. Miriam took one look at me and sat me right down on a stool at the island in the kitchen. Even sitting, I'm taller. She looked up at me with a fierce scowl, shaking her pointed finger in my face. She told me that if I did anything to hurt her baby, she'd break my arm. Then she grinned. Missy returned about then. Miriam eyed Missy, then squeezed my hand and told me that, if she were only ten years younger, she'd give her baby a run for her money. Missy blushed, and told her to stop teasing me. Miriam is close to sixty, tough as an old tree root and built like a fireplug. But there's life yet in them old bones. I could see that special twinkle in her eyes and knew that she wasn't teasing. She knew I knew too. Just beneath the aged surface is the merry young Irish lass that has enjoyed many a hearty romp in the hay over the years. She knows well the feeling of a virile man moving between her naked thighs. She gave me that measuring look that means only one thing when one person gives it to another: …Oh baybay! I'd love to take you to my bed and fuck your lights out tonight.... I'm betting that she and Williams, the butler, are on very friendly terms. Miriam knows her baby better than anyone, including Missy's parents, and has no illusions. She sees Missy as she is: a beautiful young lady with normal appetites, but also with the brains and self-respect to be choosy about her partners. Miriam apparently sees me as a worthy candidate for her baby's favors. She's always slipping rubbers in my pocket. Mrs. Hart on the other hand rates me somewhere south of the doggy-bombs her three yapping ankle-biters leave behind as traps for the unwary. The first time we met, she began the conversation by berating me about the leaves in the swimming pool. It took me all of a millisecond to catch on. What a witch! Missy and I were standing out by the cabaña talking. Got my soda! Mrs. Hart came marching out of the house in search of her daughter. She spied us standing out by the cabaña, and started toward us. Before she was halfway across the lawn, she was bitching at me about the condition of the pool. I glanced over my shoulder at her, but didn't react. Missy looked bewildered for a moment, then blushed. I just stared at her mother. I wouldn't give the bitch the satisfaction. Obviously irritated, Missy cut her off and introduced me as a friend from school. The invective stopped, but her mother didn't look at all abashed. She had known it all along that I wasn't the poolboy. She just wanted to ping me; to see if I could take it. And she wanted to put me on the defensive right away. Oh, you bet I could see where this was going from the first moment we met. I must admit, Mrs. Hart does look good at forty-something. She is a mature version of her daughter: the same long, slender legs; the same willowy body; the same curved hips, tight waist and full bust. Only more so. Her hair is darker: a lustrous brown with red-highlights. She is an inch taller than Missy. More in the heels she was wearing that day. And her tits looked just that much bigger. She has taken very good care of herself over the years. I could feel my cock stirring just looking at her. I may not like her, but Mr. Snake has no allegiance. As would be expected of the publisher of a major fashion magazine, Mrs. Hart was wearing a designer dress with a matching shirt coat of light grey silk. The color matched her eyes. No severe business suits for this lady. The dress was a wraparound, showing definite cleavage and a lot of leg. Nice tits. Very nice calves. Mr. Snake sat up a bit more. What did surprise me slightly was that she flirting with me at the same time that she was trying to intimidate me. Brushing her hand along her breast lightly; smoothing the dress along her thigh; Running her fingers through her loose hair; tracing one finger along the corner of her mouth; wetting her lips. Every once in a while she would glance down to my package to see the effect her performance was having on me. All this in the five minutes we standing together. Interesting. The crotch of my jeans got tight. Time out. I believe that Mrs. Hart was and is completely aware of her provocative behavior. She is beautiful, intelligent, powerful and very rich. She knows how to use those things to get her way. She is also a tease, and revels in it. And she's a control freak. The question is, does she also know beneath it all she is a nasty little girl yearning to be disciplined? Time in. That sixth sense of mine was humming. I had Mrs. Hart figured out within a minute of meeting her. Here was a woman desperately seeking a strong someone to take her in hand. My first reaction was to take her into the cabaña, pull her over my knee, flip up her dress and give her tight ass a few good whacks. If Missy hadn't been there, I might have done just that. As it was, Mrs. Hart soon strode back to the house with her nose in the air. I guess she got tired of her little game when she couldn't get a rise out of me. I think it pissed her off a little. I'm certain she gave a little extra roll to her hips for my benefit as she walked away. Mr. Snake was more than half awake and starting to sniff for pussy. Missy apologized, but I just grinned and waved it away. I had the feeling that Missy spent a lot of time apologizing to people for her mother's behavior. About then an idea began niggling in a distant corner of my mind. It always begins this way for me: my dick gets half-hard for pussy that it can't reach, and it gets my mind working on closing the gap. • Missy was scheduled to leave on an internship at the end of the term. She was traveling to Firenza for the summer to study Italian art and assist in cataloging at one of the museums. Hmmm. • Miriam was taking that opportunity for a trip to the Auld Sod on an extended vacation. She hadn't been back to Tralee since before Missy was born. Hmmm. • Mr. Hart was in New York, on his way to Frankfurt, on his way to…. Hmmm. • The rest of the household staff: Williams, Jessica the cook, Bentley the chauffeur, Peters the gardener, and the maids Gina and Cynthia all liked me. They were my friends, and very discreet. And they had been suffering through Mrs. Hart's juvenile temper tantrums for a number of years. Double Hmmm. I had nothing more interesting scheduled for the summer. I cover expenses as a consultant to a computer games company. I don't have much to do, but it's money well spent for them: I'm under an exclusive contract, written to keep me away from the competition. I day trade too. Even with the downturn, there is money to be made in the market, if one is careful. I'm very careful. Intuitive too. What with my portfolio, a healthy trust fund from mom's parents and various academic scholarships, my college fund is bulging. No doubt. This is definitely the kind of project that makes my dick hard. And teaching Veronica manners would benefit everyone. Oh, Mrs. Hart might shed a few tears, but it would be good for her. Besides, I knew she'd get her YaYa's out too. Missy walked me out to my car, pausing under the portico to give me a lingering kiss. Even clad in tight white shorts, her pert little asscheeks fit ever so nicely in my hands. I hopped in my vintage Miata. (1991; British Racing Green; 76,000 plus miles; CD controller; an amp, sub and a 10-disc changer in the trunk; extra speakers set flush in the headrests; immaculate engine; new brakes and clutch. I prefer to wear a car.) Missy leaned over the door to give me a smooch and to tease me with a glimpse of her breasts down the scoop neckline of her top. (Lace demi-bra; yellow to match the silk shell; the color compliments the tan of her skin; very nice tits – but I repeat myself.) As I motored home with the wind ruffling my hair, I began to examine my idea seriously. The bass was bumpin', but I needed to think. So I switched to the third disc, a selection of songs from the 40's. Lena Horne began crooning Stormy Weather in my ears. A woman singing as sexily as that always helps me think. The up sides were many: • Pussy. • A new woman to get to know with a nice body to explore. • Fresh pussy. • An opportunity to indulge in my penchant for domination. • Submissive pussy. • An opportunity to teach a rich-bitch lessons in humility. • Choice pussy. • The heady spice of an illicit affair with an older woman. • Experienced pussy. (Funny, isn't it, how for a guy it all comes down to pussy?!?) Then I considered the down sides: • Missy would not be amused. If she found out. (The Big If.) • A cast on my arm for a month or two. Miriam is a stickler for keeping her word. She'd break my arm, and I'd let her (that was our deal), if Missy found out. Oh I think Miriam would be of two minds. On one hand, she would heartily approve of the lessons in humility. But on the other hand, I'd have hurt her baby, and a promise is a promise. • Mom would be pissed. Dad would shake his head, then turn away from mom to grin. But mom would take after me with a broom handle. She likes Missy. • Mr. Hart might (would?) take offense. • Disease? Miniscule chance. • Pregnancy? At her age and experience, not likely. • Divorce? Certainly a possibility. • Arrest for attempted rape, etc.? No way. My sixth sense was rock solid on that one. So the worst that could happen was that I would probably lose Missy, sport a broken arm for a month or so and be named a correspondent in a divorce suit. Probably. Possibly. Then I realized that I'd take the risk, whatever it might be, just for the opportunity to teach Mrs. Hart some manners. Mr. Snake was wiggling with excitement in anticipation. Okay, I thought, that decision is made. Now, what is the plan of attack to be. I mulled that over while cruising through traffic. I was still pondering my approach when I parked the car and secured the top. But I put it in a box and shelved it when I went into the house. Mom was in the kitchen, preparing a Greek salad with Feta and fresh Greek olives. She had two small chicken carcasses laying in a pan marinating, ready for the spit. I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, picked her up and kissed her cheek. She giggled. Mom is a foot shorter and a little over half my weight. She is an innately happy person. But watch out when there's fire in her eyes! She may be small, but she's fast, she's fearless and she's totally ruthless. She'll take you out in a heartbeat. I know from painful experience. She's taken me out a few times. Time out. A young Marine in Guam found out about Mom the hard way. She was on duty at the hospital late one night when the MA's brought him in. He was a big kid, 6'4", 240, drunk and very belligerent. He'd started a fight at the EM Club, and the MA's had been forced to use their nightsticks. It took three of them to get him in the car. He had a couple of good-sized knots on his head, one of which was bleeding profusely and needed stitches. They had no sooner removed the cuffs, than he smacked one guy in the face with an elbow, and laid the other guy out with a right cross. The kid broke a knuckle on the MA's chin, but as drunk as he was, he was feeling no pain. God knows where the hell he thought he was going. There aren't many places for a guy his size to hide on the whole island, let alone the base, but he was determined to try. Only a little bitty nurse, less than half his size, stood between him and door. He charged. He'd meant to run right over her, but woke up ten hours later whey-faced and hurting all over. He had a terrific hangover, stitches in his head, two black eyes and a broken nose. One hand was in a cast and the other was cuffed to the bed rail. His groin was packed in ice. His poor coĵones were the size of softballs. One of the ER Docs saw the whole thing. He said Mom had stood her ground until the Marine was right on top of her. Then she dropped to one knee, reached back, made a fist, took aim and punched upward with all 110 pounds behind the blow. The power of the uppercut, taken with his momentum, puh-lan-ted her fist wrist deep in the soft tissue of his groin. Oooochee!!! According to the Doc, Mom timed her punch perfectly. The kid stopped cold, poised there with his ass high, arms outstretched and torso folded over Mom's shoulder, like he'd hit a waist high wall with his knees. The power of the blow had lifted him to his tiptoes. The kid's face went white. Instantly sober, he looked down at Mom with a questioning expression, as if asking "Why did you do that?". Sorrow, horror and agony flickered through his eyes in the instant before they rolled back in his head. He made a high-pitched bleating sort of sound. (The Doc described it as kind of a cross between a calf's cry and a baby's whimper.) Then down he went, just like in the cartoons, face first. Nothing cushioned his fall. Out cold, his nose broke when he hit the floor. Let's review: Fast…Yep! Fearless…Yep! Ruthless…Yep! Well that's definitely Mom! A mean drunk, when sober the Marine was a good kid at heart. He was also some kind of embarrassed when he found out what he'd attempted. Mom gave him a lecture that made his ears burn, then took care of him for three days while the swelling went down. He called her "Ma'am" and was meek as a lamb for the rest of his stay. She got the guards to remove the handcuffs. She also sent a letter to his CO, requesting leniency. She pointed out that the young man had already paid a painful price for his actions. Duh! One can only imagine the look on the Colonel's face as he read the letter. Like any guy, I'm sure he winced when he'd heard how his Marine had been taken down. But he must have busted a gut laughing too. In the end, he agreed with Mom and went easy on the kid. He reduced the assault charges, but busted him to private and had him confined for thirty days. Which is one helluva lot better than a term in Leavenworth and a DD. The kid sent Mom flowers when he got out of the brig. Thereafter I don't think he had as much as one beer. Word got around his battalion, and the Marines sort of adopted her as an honorary Marine and their resident mother. The number of untoward incidents involving Marines went way down on her watch. If a Marine got in trouble he dreaded the lecture more than the punishment. And woe betide him if he gave her any lip. The other Marines took care of Mom's light work. Do you know the words 'blanket party'? Being a Marine means sometimes you don't get to be safe, so the rest of us are. If a Marine got hurt, he wanted her to take care of him. She always did, but she lost a few too. She took those hard. To her, it was almost like losing me. When Dad was transferred, the Marine contingent threw Mom a surprise farewell party. A two-star presented Mom with a plaque and a pair of silver stars. She cried. Time in. I fired up the barbecue and put the chickens on to broast. Dad arrived home about then. He refilled mom's wineglass in exchange for a kiss, then popped beers for the two of us. While the chicken turned, we three sat on the patio in the late afternoon sun and just talked. Dad took mom's hand without even thinking about it. His callused palm dwarfs hers, but always tenderly. The sight of my parents together makes me smile. There's a lot of love there. I want for me what they've got. Easily said. Tough to find in the real world. Tougher to hang on to. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms Blanket Party – An informal means of discipline carried out by members of a squad or platoon on one of their members. See the movie Full Metal Jacket for an enactment. Auld Sod – A native's nickname for Ireland. Coĵones – testicles. DD – Dishonorable Discharge. EM Club – Enlisted Men's Club. A club and/or bar located on a base which caters to the lower ranking enlisted. There are other clubs for senior enlisted, and still others for officers. Firenza – Florence, Italy. MA – Master at Arms, the USN equivalent of a Deputy Sheriff or Police Officer. Tralee – A small town in County Kerry on the southwest coast of Ireland. Two-star – Major General; his or her rank insignia is two silver stars on either shoulder. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 1Pt. 1 This is the third installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache, Chapter III, Interlude I: Margot Please include it under the category Novels and Novellas. For the sake of your readers, I've included an index which defines some of the more obscure terms. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. Here we meet our hero's 'fuck buddy' Margot, and a surprise guest. Margot is his Financial Advisor and intimate friend. She's also bisexual with a preference for women. But she has the need for a cock occasionally. Our hero is happy to supply Mr Snake. The scene is dinner and… The setting is Margot's townhouse in the city. Hang on. The ride's getting wild. And very hot…! Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mrs. Hart's Ache III The Ladies in My Life "I had nothing more interesting scheduled for the summer, other than spending a lot of time with the ladies in my life." I thought about the plan off and on over the course of a month. In that time I did lots of other things too: Went to school. Did Margot. Worked on a website design. Logged a cross-country flight with Missy – and no, I did not initiate Missy in the Mile High Club. I don't fuck around when I'm at the controls of an aircraft at 10,000 feet, any more than I would driving a car down the freeway. I'm young, but I'm not a complete Homer. Got my ass kicked by my Aikido sensei. Whacked off a couple of times. Did Bethany. Mowed the lawn. Bought a new computer. Saw a movie with Chelsea. Did her too. Repainted the family room. Did Liz. Hung out at the beach with my homies. Saw a ballgame with Dad. Made a little money on the stock market. Took out the garbage. Logged a cross-country flight and spent the weekend climbing with Cassandra – see the note above regarding flying and fucking. Did her too. Aced my finals. Cleaned my room. Took my mother to breakfast. Played some golf with my buds. Did Chloe. Made dinner a couple of times. Took Erin to the Prom – she hadn't been to one. She tried to go as a Senior, but the chaperones wouldn't let her and her girlfriend in the door. Erin did me. Had another mind-blowing session with Dr. Teasley. Helped Dad service a couple of aircraft. Escorted Natasha to La Bohéme. Did Natasha. And of course, did Missy a couple of times in there too. You know, the regular things any eightteen-year-old male does in four weeks. Okay, okay! I here ya. Jeez! If you must have the details: Interlude I: Margot First, there's my friend, Margot: she's a 33-year-old stockbroker. She's five years divorced (no kids) and a bisexual who leans toward girls now that she's single again. Margot's about 5' 6", 125 with short brunette hair, a nice ass and little B-cup tits capped with huge (I mean bulbous) two-tiered areolae and nipples. Her areolae and nipples together make up about a third of her tits. They jut out as far from her breasts as her breasts bloom from her chest. She's phat on both anal and oral sex. Margot swallows too. I met her through my lesbian connection. After her divorce, she dated Sandi, one of the sisters, for a while but couldn't completely give up cock. That didn't suit Sandi, who was looking for long term commitment. Sandi is in her late twenties, an athlete of sorts. A tennis instructor, I think. She hooked up with an older woman by the name of Joy shortly after she and Margot kissed goodbye. But that didn't work out, so I guess Sandi is still looking for her commitment. The latest word is that she has found someone, but won't share the details. Anyway, Margot and I started seeing each other casually after she and Sandi broke up. I'm Margot's 'fuck buddy', the one she comes to for no-strings hetero sex. She prefers a woman in her bed on a daily basis, but occasionally, needs to have a real cock. Her fantasy is to get me and a hard-core lesbian girly girl in bed together with her. Her nipples get like stones when she talks about me fucking her ass while she's eating pussy. I'm game, but it seems she's having trouble convincing any of our lesbian friends. Lately she has been making noises like she's got someone thinking hard about it. We met about the time I was in the market for a financial adviser after I signed with the software company. I poked around, asked some questions, then interviewed a few prospects. The first two were young guys. Real hungry, but fast talkers. Both were hot and heavy into telecommunications and energy. Yeah, sure. I may be young but I read the Wall Street Journal too you twits. Can you say 'Enron'? How about 'World Com'? Hey I know! How about some dot.com stocks while we're at it!? They're cheap now! The schmucks. Margot went a different direction. She said that I was young and could afford to gamble a bit. High tech was the future. There are a few small companies, unknowns for the most part, that could take off in a few years. Young, solid management teams with bright ideas and commitments to R&D: nanotechnology, some software, A.I. and biotech. If one took off, it would be like being in on the birth of the Tabulating Machine Company. It's now known as 'Big Blue' or IBM. Margot got my business. She's smart, articulate and her rep is excellent. To be honest, her legs didn't hurt. The suit she wore that day had Mr Snake stirring. Stone miniskirt and matching jacket. Black mini-snap tee. Smoky stockings. Four inch heels. That outfit certainly it got me interested. Sure she meant to use it to snag me. So what. Yeah, I know. But I'm a guy. We often think with our little heads. But the decision to go with her was a good one. Her brains got her the business. I might lose money with Margot. I would be stony already if I'd gone with either of the other two. Margot saw something in me too. We've talked about it since. The conditions in her life were just right for us to get together. She'd just broken up with Sandi. She was in the mood for something stiff. I had impressed her too. And we a shared sense of humor. We both felt the attraction. Age had nothing to do with it. She didn't even ask my age. Margot left a message on my cell phone one day almost a month ago. I picked it up between classes. Her messages are pretty basic. The latest one was typical: "Hi Studley. I'm in the mood for cock, sweet baby. Let's fuck. Friday night. My place. Call me." No name. No telephone number. Just the basic message. That's my Margot. Even if I didn't recognize the voice, I'd know the caller. I called her back, but she was in a meeting. Her assistant, Margaret, took a message, and promised to have her call back at two when my Statistics class let out. Time out. Margaret is a sweet lady about ten years older than God. She runs the office for Margot, and keeps everything in line or, in the case of Margot, tries to. Margaret is completely organized, while Margot usually can't find the reading glasses perched on her nose. Margaret is what was once called a spinster. She's never been married, but she has lived with her partner for more than forty years. Her partner's name is Emily. They too hold hands when they're together. Ain't love grand? Time in. Margot got it right for once. Margaret must have been on the job, probably standing at her elbow. Margaret likes me. She told me in confidence that Margot is always happier, more calm and clear-headed somehow after a date with me. Go figure. We made a date for that evening. She wanted Thai or Sushi. That told me that I was in for an exotic night. I hadn't had Thai for a while, and I prefer not to do Sushi takeout. The food is always excellent, but it's even better when you eat at the restaurant we frequent. You never know what specials Toshi might dream up for you when you're sitting at the bar in front of him. Thai it was. Extra spicy. We always got too much, but we both liked a large selection. Appetizers and all. I'd call it in, and pick it up. She was in charge of getting the Asahi. (Yeah I know, it's Japanese, but we'd tried Thai beer. Once. I prefer Guinness, but Margot likes a lager with Thai.) We'd meet at her place, a townhouse on the park within walking distance of her office downtown. Very upscale. Margot may not be able to find her reading glasses, and she is terrible at returning personal messages, but she is a demon stock broker. She knows, and keeps track of the markets on a minute-to-minute basis. She makes a ton of money at it. I got there early to get a parking spot. The residents have parking privileges in a garage beneath the building, but the street fills up fast after 4:00. The restaurant is just down the block. I placed the order and sat at the counter sipping a soda, flirting with one of the waitresses while they prepared the food. While I waited, I called Margot to get an idea how late she would be, but surprise, surprise she was already on her way. If she was out of the office before 4:30, she was eager. That frightened me a little. An eager Margot could be hard to handle. She could eat me up with the Pad Prik if I wasn't careful. I knew we were in for some kinky sex and resolved that if anyone got tied up that night, it wouldn't be me. Dinner in hand, I walked back to her place. As I got to the entrance, I saw Margot coming out of the deli across the street, carrying two six-packs of beer. Two six-packs. Hhmmm. That was more than we needed, even with extra spicy. I whistled. She waved. Dodging traffic, she came straight across the street. One cabby honked, but she grinned, wriggled her ass at him and gave him the finger in sort of a friendly way. He laughed, yelling out "…any time baybee…!" She just grinned again and shouted back, "In your dreams homeboy!" and gave her ass another wiggle. He grinned, blew her a kiss and accelerated away with a squeal of tires. Time out. Margot is pretty much uncomplicated. She likes things easy. People sense that. They're attracted to it. That may be part of the reason for her success. Another is the way she dresses. Definitely hot. She's one of the few women I know who really likes high heels. She says that they make her legs look good. No doubt. That and the fact that she's got great legs to begin with. Dancer's legs. Long and lean; trim and toned. Margot doesn't walk. Margot struts. That day she was wearing a white pleated linen skirt, royal blue blouse and white blazer with her four inch heels. The hem of the skirt swung with the roll of her hips, showing a lot of leg. The first two buttons of the blouse were undone. Her cleavage is a definite come-on. Mmmhh, mmhh, what a babe. Margot makes my dick hard just watching her walk. You should see her in those heels without the skirt, blouse and blazer. Margot wears thongs. The smaller, the sheerer, the sexier, the better. Her favorite dress is undressed. She likes walking around at home in her thong and a see-through shell. When she's in the mood, she'll add thigh-high stockings and heels. One wall of her place is covered with all different kinds of mirrors. She likes watching herself. Margot doesn't own a pair of pantyhose. She wears stockings: stay-ups or with a garterpanty. Occasionally a garter belt if it doesn't show through her dress. She is sexy, she is all woman, but Margot is definitely not a slut. She is female and she likes herself. It shows. Nor does Margot own anything close to a pair of old lady panties. At least she hasn't since she, as she put it, had her plumbing removed. It was a bit more traumatic than that. She developed an ovarian cyst, and had the hysterectomy shortly after the divorce. It was pre-cancerous, which may explain her attitude towards life. They went in through her belly button, so she has no visible scars. Which is good, 'cause she likes showing off her bellyring. She likes showing off all of her assets. Witness the scene with the cabby. She met me at the door. We both had an armload but she laid a liplock on me guaranteed to wake Mr Snake. Margot was excited about something. She owns the townhouse, and you can imagine what it cost. The first floor of the townhouse is up off street level. Seven steps up into an alcove to the front door. From the street you see matching bow front windows to either side of the entryway. The dining area is to the left and the living area to the right, both overlooking the street. Kitchen, pantry, bathroom to the left, behind the dining area. stairs up straight ahead. Library with a fireplace to the right behind the living area. Back door to a small courtyard cum patio. Stairway down to the basement through a door facing the rear entry. The basement is finished, with laundry room, storage, utilities and a big open game room. Margot collects old pinball machines and video games. She's got an original Ms. Pacman. Three bedrooms upstairs, two of which share a bathroom. Master bedroom and master bath in front facing the street, again with matching bow front windows. In the hall, there's a circular staircase leading up to the roof. There she has a garden and a spa surrounded by latticework for privacy. Her neighbors to either side have somewhat the same arrangement. Margot has a maid service come in weekdays to keep the place clean. Time in. As she led me into her place, she told me that she had a surprise for me. It was sort of an late Birthday present. Since my birthday (June 3) was a couple of weeks gone by, whatever it was, it was as much a gift for Margot as me. But I'm not one to turn down a present from a lady. Particularly a present that had her that turned on. I was curious, but damned if I was going to ask. She knew but that just made her eyes sparkle. She went to change her clothes while I popped a couple of beers and put dinner in the oven to warm. She reappeared in short order, wearing a fine pair of denim boy shorts, a white tube top and strappy fuck-me sandals. Margot has a little white mouse tattooed on her mons just above her pussy. The head of the mouse was peeking over the top of the shorts. Jesus. She looked good enough to eat, never mind the Thai. If the outfit wasn't enough to get my dick hard, her scent would guarantee it. We always have something to drink before we eat. Then we eat buffet style, so we can pick and choose. As usual, I had ordered too much food. I commented on the fact just as doorbell rang, almost as if it had been orchestrated. Margot grinned, her eyes sparkling more than ever. She scurried to answer the door, telling me not to worry as she had that covered. Suddenly I had an inkling, but I was totally shocked when she walked back in leading Erin by the hand. Time out. You do remember Erin, don't you? She's the coed from the episode with Larry, Moe and Stupid. The young lesbian. Time in. Margot burst out laughing when she saw my face. Erin blushed but looked pleased. She was wearing a little pair of boy shorts too, only hers were sky blue with two big white buttons in front and a zip up the side. Those little shorts, a tight yellow knit midriff top with a mock-turtle neck and heeled sandals: if I hadn't been so surprised, I would have told her how totally phat she looked. The white strings of her thong were riding high on her hips. Mr Snake didn't get distracted. He knows prime pussy when he sees it. He was stirring. I did one of those "yamana yamana" things. You know, like when your mouth flops open and nothing intelligible comes out for ten minutes? I must have looked (and sounded) pretty freakin' silly. I thought Margot was going to hurt herself, she was laughing so hard. She was delighted with herself. How the hell those Margot convinced Erin, I had no idea. But I was determined to find out before the night was too much older. I finally found my speaking voice, and asked the obvious question. Erin looked at Margot, blushed again then said, "I suppose I'm curious…". She paused, gathered herself, then went on with a rush. "I've never been with a man before… I-I want to know what it's like. Most guys scare me a little…" She fllushed again and looked at me. "…but you don't." Gaining some confidence, she sat down. "Look. It's just that you're nice. Nicer than any other guy I know." She went on. "You helped me when I needed it. Most people would've run away…like those other jerks..." Before I could object, she held her hand up. "Let me finish. This is kinda hard for me…" Erin took a breath. "I'm not doing this because you rescued me." She smiled. "But I know you did. I owe you for that. I hope to repay you someday." "But I've wanted to do this for a long time. Even before… well, you know. It was my idea. Margot didn't have to convince me." She glanced at Margot. "I had to convince her." "This really isn't for you either. It's not a reward. I'm sorta asking for another favor from you…" She smiled at me again. "If that's okay." Like I said, Erin is small. At that moment, she looked about fifteen. She's 22 though, about 5'3" and maybe 110. I reached across the corner of the table to take her hand. "I'm glad you chose me." I said. "But I've got to tell you that I'd rather keep you as a friend, then take you to bed. And about that other thing. I did it as much for me as for you. Those guys aren't like most of us. I know a lot of guys who would have done the same thing. I just happened to be there." Erin looked at me solemnly. Then shook her head. "No. That's not true. But I don't want to talk about it now." She smiled again. "I'd much rather have dinner with you…" Her smile grew impish. "…and maybe seduce you…" We all laughed at that. I said, "I think I've already been seduced." I squeezed her hand. "But anytime this all gets to be too much for you, just say 'Stop' and we'll find something else to do together, okay?" Erin smiled, for the first time looking a bit more comfortable. "Okay!" she said, then leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek. Margot hadn't said anything throughout the conversation. That's the longest she'd gone without talking since we'd met. She made up for it. "Oh goody!" She said, grinning like a crazy woman. "This is gonna be a whole lotta fun for everyone." "Don't worry, Erin. If he gets outta line, we can take him." She looked at me mock fiercely. "And by the way, buster. You better not have anything planned for tomorrow morning. Erin and I spent a lot of time planning this. We're gonna find out how good you are when the suns comes up too... And Mona from the deli promised to bring us breakfast in the morning. Now let's eat!" I had some misgivings, but I tried hard not to let them show. Don't get me wrong. Having two women in bed with me could be a lot of fun. I'd done it before. It had been fun. But this would be a whole new experience. Whatever they planned, I planned to take it slow and easy with Erin. I could almost hear Mr Snake saying 'yeah, yeah, whatever… now let's get to the pussy!' He was ready. Big Duh. The Thai was as good as always. Extra spicy. Maybe it just seemed spicier than usual. Erin's eyes watered when she took her first bite. She wanted water, lots of water. But we gave her cold milk instead. I think she ate mostly Pad Thai and some of the Lemongrass Chicken Salad. Those noodles are tasty, and it was the least spicy item on our menu. Even the salad is hot. All of us were doing our best to put the others at ease. My way was to ignore the whole thing. If something happened to get the three of us in bed together, great. If not, then dinner and the company of two sweet women was enough. Mr Snake wouldn't be happy, but tough shit. He gets enough action. But ignoring it wasn't working. It was starting to feel sticky if you know what I mean. Uncomfortable. Surprisingly, of the three of us, it was Margot that seemed to be the most nervous. She covered it pretty well, but Erin and I could tell. During dinner, I hauled it out into the open again, just to dispose of it. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 1Pt. 1 She was babbling a bit. Erin and I looked at each other, and understood right away. I said, "Margot my sweet! You'd better relax babe, or Erin and I are gonna lock you in the closet and fuck each other's brains out while you sit by yourself." Her eyes got real big. Erin giggled, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Don't worry about it, Margot." She said. "We both know what kind of guy he is… And we both know what kind of girl you are too." Margot turned to Erin with that same startled look. "James and I are going to have you for desert." Erin continued. "Aren't we James." I gave Margot my lecherous grin and said, "Oh, most definitely yes! Spicy hot Thai followed by spicy hot pussy. My favorite!" Margot opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, she shut her mouth and suppressed a shudder as a thrill ran down her spine. I'd've bet my left nut her pussy was juicy. "You're both evil." She pouted. Erin and I laughed which made her grin. Margot was still hyper after that, but it had more to do with eagerness than worry. She was Margot-hyper again. Both Erin and I were used to that. Our exchange broke what little reserve remaining between Erin and I too. We were obviously comfortable, so Margot got comfortable too. We finished eating then put the leavings in the fridge. Erin suggested a dip in the spa. Margot agreed so readily, it had to be a setup. It was. Margot knows me, at least a little bit. At least she knows some of what turns me on. She feeds it. I was expecting some bodacious bikinis. She keeps a few pairs of bags for me in one of the spare bedrooms. I slipped out of my clothes and into the bags while those two changed in Margot's room. I was the first one ready, so I stuffed the rest of the beer and a couple of bottles of water in an ice chest and went up to the roof. The hot tub was already bubbling. Margot must have slipped up there after changing, while I was putting the food in the oven. The evening sky was clear. The sun was going down. It would be dark in a couple of hours. The stars would be out, but we wouldn't be able to see many. The city lights overpowered all but the brightest. The moon was full. We wouldn't need but the light in the spa. Margot's neighbors to the North had the same idea. I could hear low voices and a burst of laughter from next door. They were in their tub, out of sight. They'd hear us too, but city people learn quickly to ignore their neighbors. I pulled a few towels from the locker Margot had installed next to the spa. She has a shower up there too, backed up to the pump house. Two latticework walls, and a matching door. It's open on top but there are no taller buildings within five blocks or so. The nearest is a hotel, but Margot doesn't care anyway. I laid the towels on the deck near the tub, then slipped into the bubbling water. Heavenly. While I was waiting for the ladies, I popped a beer, turned off the jets and sat listening to the city, sipping my Asahi. Life is very good sometimes. I was right about the bikinis. God was I right. I heard them coming up the stairs before I saw them. They were giggling about something. I had the beer up and looked over just as they opened the door. They stepped out together. It must have shown on my face, because they both burst out laughing. Or maybe it was because of the beer coming out of my nose as I choked. "I told Erin that you'd look like that." Margot sputtered. "Like what?" I croaked. Despite the beer dribbling down my chin, my mouth was dry for some reason. "Like you've been hit in the head with a hammer." She answered simply. She was right. God they were gorgeous. Margot was wearing a little hot pink number. I should say, she was barely wearing a little hot pink number. The mouse was very much in evidence. Only her tail was hidden by the pouch of the bikini. Time out. The mouse is definitely a "her" by the way, with little furry tits, pink nipples and a tiny vagina, shaved bare. She's cupping one breast offering it to the viewer with one finger touching her tiny little clit. The tattoo artist is a genius with a needle. Time in. Two small triangles of spandex stretched over her boobs attempting without success to cover her areolae and nipples. I think I mentioned that Margot has (let me put it delicately) bulbous areolae. There's no way those cups could contain her nipples, let alone her breasts. Mr Snake was definitely perky. Speaking of perky. Erin was almost wearing a neon blue bikini about the same size, if not the same cut, as Margot. If I'm a judge of women's breasts and bra sizes – which I am – Erin is a 34C. Her breasts of long, pointy cones that jut appreciably from her chest. Her yumyums were barely covered by her the cups of her suit too. Nice tits! Her bikini was one of those little tiny thongs with sheer plastic bands that clipped to the front panel. Margot wasn't showing much in the way of tan lines, but it was obvious that Erin hadn't worn that particular bikini to the beach. Most of her breasts and a triangle of white flesh centered over her pussy showed the outlines of another, slightly larger bikini. Call me strange, but the sight of the soft white skin around her plump mons had Mr Snake straining to find a comfortable position. We all knew that she was wearing that bikini for me. Erin was seducing me again. Both suits became see-through when wet. They were soon wet, along with their owners as the ladies stepped into the tub. It's hard for a guy to maintain when two beautiful women – who have made it quite clear that they plan to take you to bed and fuck your lights out – come dancing into a hot tub with him wearing so little. Four dark pink nipples were standing up, staring at me. I was staring back. I was maintaining, but Damn! Mr Snake was maintaining too. He was maintaining that it was time to stand up and say "Howdy do!?". Now I know that Margot keeps her puss plucked. It was obvious from what little the bikini covered that Erin didn't have much of a bush either. Margot was sipping a beer and watching my face. I glanced at her, to find her grinning at me. "'Bet your curious about it aren't you James?" She stated more than asked. "Curious about what?" I asked, wondering where she was going. "Curious about Erin's pussy – whether it's as bare of hair as mine." She said with a grin. Something must have flashed in my eyes, because the ladies were giggling again. I half expected Erin to be embarrassed. She was a little flushed, but that could have been from the hot water. Riiiight! I was on the losing end of this whole deal. It was two against one, and I was rapidly falling behind. It was time to get back some of my own. If I spent the night worrying about how Erin felt, I'd spoil the scene for everyone. I think Margot sensed that, and was not so subtly reminding me to relax. "I'll tell you what ladies," I said with an evil smile, "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours." Then I licked the tip of my nose. This time the beer came out of Margot's nose. The only reason it didn't happen to Erin is 'cause she wasn't drinking at the time. She damn near dropped the bottle though. "Holy shit!" Erin said in awe as she slapped Margot on the back. Margot was having a hard time breathing beer. "Margot told me, but hearing about it is one thing. Seeing it is another. Do that again! Please?" I grinned and curled my tongue around the tip of my nose for her, holding it there for a few seconds, then said. "Alright. The deal was, I show you mine, then you show me yours. Let's see 'um!" Margot finally recovered, though laughing as hard as she was didn't help her catch her breath. "That's one of the things I love about you James – you don't get distracted. You keep your 'eyes on the prize'." Then she stood up one the seat and slipped her bikini to her thighs. "Check out this prize." she said with a grin. Margot has no shame She must wear something that small when she sunbathes, 'cause there is only a little patch of white covering her bare puss. I could see matching triangles of light skin around her nipples through the soaked top. Mmmhh Mmhh. Nice puss! Erin was still slightly stunned by my trick tongue. She didn't even blink when she stood up next to Margot and slipped her bikini down. Oooohh! Very nice puss! Hers reminded me of Chloe's, but with a bit more of her crinkled inner lips showing. A little fat buttery muffin. Hers is plucked as clean as Margot's. "Oh I'm gonna have a good time tasting those juicy little pussies!" I said, grinning. "Hold on there bucko!" Margot croaked as they pulled up their little bikinis and sat back down. Her air passage was still recovering from the beer wash. "We haven't seen the whole package yet. We showed you two. You've got to do the same. Let Erin see that other thing you've got stuffed in those shorts." I glanced at Erin. She tried to hide it, but I could tell that she was curious. Oh well, I thought, now we're going to find out whether or not she really wants to go through with it. I set my beer on the deck, then stood up. My legs are long enough that it wasn't necessary to stand on the seat. Mr Snake isn't usually shy. That night was no different. He was center stage, and he stood up to the attention. Erin was being casual, but the curiosity was there in her eyes. I waited until she was taking a sip of beer, then jerked the bags down. Mr Snake did me proud. It was Erin's turn to choke. Beer shot out of her nose. Margot was ready for it. She started pounding on Erin's back. Erin was coughing and choking with tears in her eyes. She didn't look away though. she seemed mesmerized by the size of my dick. She watched Mr Snake disappear as I pulled my bags up again. "You did that on purpose, you bastard!" giggled Margot as she rubbed Erin's back, helping her breath again. "You better be nice, or we'll make you sleep on the floor." "Oh no we won't!" Erin managed to gasp. "It took me a while to get up the nerve to do this. Now that I'm here, everybody stays. Besides, I've got to see that thing again!" "Not yet!" she croaked, clearing her throat, holding up her hand to stop me when I reached to my waistband. "I don't think I'm quite ready for it. Give me another beer first. Let me recover a little." "Jesus!" Erin said in awe again when she could breath. She looked over to Margot "Those things can't be all that big… Are they? No, shit, those three yo-yo's didn't have dicks that big." Margot was giggling again. "No sweetie, James here has one of the biggest I've seen outside of… well maybe either side of a porno flick.' "I know a black guy that's got one bigger." She mused, glancing at my crotch. "But I won't let him near my little pussy with it. Shit was he some kind of disappointed. I gave him a blowjob instead." That startled Erin. She looked sort of interested, as if she'd been contemplating sucking dick, but hadn't done it. Yet. Margot either didn't notice, or more likely ignored it. I got the feeling that we were going to be teaching Erin something new that evening. Mr Snake agreed. "Our pal here is quite big enough for me when I'm in the mood for cock." Margot continued. "Besides which, he really knows how to use it." She looked at me as she said the last. I winked. "Thanks Margot." I said with a smile. "Be careful though. I could get used to complements from you." She looked offended for an instant, then grinned and splashed me. "Hold on." I said, raising my hands. "You haven't finished the story." They looked at me curiously. "You haven't told me how you both happened to get your little pussies so well plucked. Those beauties aren't shaved. I know that look. Did you do that for me, or do you usually sport the bald look?" Margot grinned. Erin smiled through her blush. She answered. "Our pal here convinced me that I'd have a better time with you if I got rid of my pubic hair completely. (And after seeing that tongue of yours, I'm coming to believe her.) I used to give myself a bikini shave in the summertime, but I've never tried to go 'bald' before now. We went together." Margot chimed in. "There's a new shop uptown, run by two sisters from Brazil. They specialize in the 'honeymoon' waxing, though they'll leave a 'landing strip' if that's what you want. I know you only go down on completely hairless pussy. I convinced Erin to try it." She looked over to Erin. "She wouldn't go without me, so I had to let it grow out for a couple of weeks." She caressed her lips bulging beneath the little suit. "God it was itchy. I don't think I can let it grow again now that I've had it done…" "Anyway", she finished, "we got waxed, and bought these things. They sell bikini's there too…" "Yeah!" Erin interrupted. "And they make a ton of money doing that. You wouldn't believe what these few strips of spandex cost. I couldn't afford this thing, but Margot insisted when she saw me put it on." She slid next to Margot and kissed her. "She paid for it. I think it turned her on to have me model it for her." "You always turn me on sweetie…" Margot said in a sexy growl as she kissed Erin back. "…in or out of your little bikini." Oooohh yeah. Mr Snake was liking that! They kissed deeply, mouths open and tongues dancing. Erin massaged Margot's breasts with one hand. Her other arm slid around Margot's shoulder, holding her close, pressing her tit against Margot's arm. Margot cupped the back of Erin's head but otherwise just let it happen. Big surprise. Margot was passive to Erin's aggressiveness. I had expected the opposite. Well now! That opened the door to certain possibilities. No doubt. Mr Snake was definitely liking that! They broke the kiss and looked over to me smiling. They'd given me a taste of what was to come. They were also teasing me. I could see it in Margot's eyes. "You both look good enough to eat." I said. Not very original, but apropos. "If she keeps it up, Margot's also going to get spanked before this night's over," I finished. "Why whut evah du you mean, sirrah?" She said in syrupy tones straight from Gone with the Wind. Her eyes were twinkling, somewhat spoiling the effect of her mock outrage. That and the fact that she laid back with her arms outstretched along the side of the tub. Her back arched as she thrust her breasts out. She wiggled her shoulders, making her breasts dance. "You know perfectly well what I mean Scarlett." I said shaking my finger at her. "You keep teasing, and I'll turn you over my knee." "Oooohh! That might be fun!" She said laughing. "Maybe we should tease you some more." She turned to Erin, arching her eyebrows. Erin grinned and launched herself at Margot "Oh yeah. Let's tease him some more. I'd like to see you get spanked." She said as she pushed one cup aside and began licking Margot's bare nipple. "Maybe I'll help." Margot's head fell back as Erin feasted on her tits. A satisfied moan trickled from her lips. Erin caught movement out of the corner of her eye as I slid into the seat on the opposite side. Her eyes smiled at me as she pushed the cup away from Margot's other breast. Margot jumped and let out a gasp of surprise as I captured her other nipple with my lips. I slid my arm around Margot, twining mine with Erin's between us, we had Margot's arms trapped. I nodded then glanced down. Erin followed my eyes. Both of us continued to tease Margot's nipples as we reached to her hips and slipped the bows from her bikini. Her head snapped up and her eyes popped open. She tried to lift her arms, but Erin and I gripped her wrists, holding her in place. She moaned. "Tease me, huh!" I said between nips at her nipple. "We'll see who gets teased!" She struggled briefly, testing, but Erin and I hung on. She had no chance and she knew it. Her head fell back again as her thighs parted. The scrap of her bikini drifted away from her puss. She whimpered urgently as we stroked her inner thighs, caressing her soft skin, brushing our fingertips along the puffy lips of her bare sex. But never touching her clit. She tensed as Erin split the lips of her pussy with a fingertip and tickled the delicate folds of her entry. "Oooohh!" She moaned. "You two are killing me…! Mmh don't stop. Touch me! Play with my clit! Please…! I promise to be good… Oooooohh…! You're so n-nasty…! S-soooooo mean…!" She quivered with each new touch. Erin and I worked her together perfectly for twenty minutes or so. Margot adored ever second of it. As her nipples tightened, her areolae grew, bursting from her breasts. Erin and I sucked and nibbled on them. Margot's hands worked frantically, clutching at nothing while her ass pumped up and down, forcing her sex against our fingers. I thought I knew Margot fairly well – at least in bed. But Erin knew a few things that I didn't. While I caressed Margot's pussylips and stroked the dark line of her slit, Erin reached down behind her frantically wriggling ass to toy with the kiss of her anus. One touch and Margot went ridged in our arms. A vast shudder ran through her body. Her moan was one of pure lust. With her lips wrapped around the end of Margot's breast sucking, Erin glanced up at me then down to Margot's pussy. She nodded once. I caught on. Her orgasm was suddenly close. She whimpered helplessly her arms pulling at ours, seemingly desperate to escape our grasp. But her thighs opened wide. She forced her pussy up into my fingers, working herself against my hand. Suddenly her eyes shot open… As Erin swirled her fingers around the kiss of Margot's ass, I caressed Margot's clit. We timed it precisely. At the same moment, we stabbed inwards. She was lost. I think she tried to say "NO!" But all that came out was "N…!" before she launched. "N…! turned into "Nnnnnnaaaaaahhhh!!!". Margot is not quiet when she cums. Erin invaded Margot's bottom with her rigid finger. I thrust my middle fingers into her pussy and worked her clit with my thumb. While I diddled her clit and finger fucked her pussy, Erin finger fucked her ass. We both were sucking and biting at her bare breasts. I swear, the entire Lower East Side of the city knew Margot was cumming. Erin glanced at me, eyes twinkling. She opened her lips to show teeth biting down on Margot's engorged nipple. I followed suit. Margot launched again. She was thrashing in our arms. The muscles in her belly were rippling with her orgasm. Her pussy clamped down on my fingers, squeezing. I could feel Erin's finger working in and out of her ass, thrusting in time with mine in her pussy. Margot began pleading with us between wails of passion as we worked her body together. I glanced at Erin and flipped my eyes up once. Erin grinned, Margot's nipple still caught in her teeth. We attacked her furiously together once more, sending her soaring a third time. When she launched Erin stabbed in a last time and held it there. I stabbed in and squeezed Margot's pussy, the heel of my hand pressing against her swollen clit. Margot wailed as her orgasm claimed her. She strained against us for a minute, pumping her ass frantically, then fell limp in our arms. She was cumming so hard, she'd blacked out for a moment. We released her arms and I caught her, cradling her body until she came around. Her whole body shook, then she drew a tremulous breath. She glanced up at me then at Erin. She pulled my arms around her chest then gave us a shaky grin. "You're both evil." She whispered. "But I like it. Do it again." We all laughed, Margot hardest of all. "If we did that again right now, I don't think you would survive." Erin said. "Besides, I think someone would call the cops. You sounded like you were getting murdered back there." "Yes, she certainly did." A strange male voice chimed in. "But what a way to go!" Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 1Pt. 1 Margot's neighbors, an older couple, fiftyish maybe, were standing at the wall dividing the two buildings. There was silver in their hair, but they were both in great shape. We couldn't see it all, but the man was bare-chested. The woman had a bikini top not much bigger than those the ladies were wearing. Nice tits! Great presentation! They gave Margot a golf clap, kind of a standing 'O', then waved and went back to their hot tub. Margot had the grace to blush. "Oh you two are so much in trouble!" She said fiercely. "One way or another, I'm going to get you helpless… Then watch out!" I kissed the top of her head. "Don't bullshit us Margot." I said, laughing. "You loved every minute of it. That's what you were hoping for when you set up this whole thing." I pinched her bare nipple. "Wasn't it!?" "Yeah, so what." She said in a sulky voice. "You're both still in trouble." Margot was playing up to it. Pouting again. I kissed the top of her head again as Erin leaned in and kissed her lips. "You don't really mean that, do you lover?" she asked sweetly. "No… Yes… Oh com'ere and kiss me you sexy little doll." Margot said, drawing Erin into her arms. "I should be pissed at you two, but who could be pissed after a scrumptious orgasm like that!?" She and Erin sucked face for a few moments, then Erin drew back for air. "Just remember sweetie: payback's a bitch!" Margot warned Erin, patting her cheek. The expression on Erin's face alternated between eager and anxious. But there seemed to be no doubt that she was going to get fucked that night. By me. Mr Snake was definitely eager. Erin leaned in for another kiss. Margot cupped her neck and rubbed her back as they kissed. When Erin came up for air again, she left her top behind. Margot's quick with her fingers. Startled by being suddenly bare breasted, Erin's eyes grew round. She reached for the top as she crossed her arm in front of her breasts. But Margot tossed her top out of reach near the door. "I warned you that payback's a bitch." She said with an evil grin of her own. "That's just the first installment." She reached beneath Erin's arm to pinch her nipple lightly. Erin jumped, then sighed and dropped her arm, giving Margot full access to her tits. Her nipples fattened as her pink areolae crinkled to a rosy hue in the night air. While Margot caressed Erin's chest, I slipped the bows from her neck and back, then pulled Margot's top away. Erin leaned in for another kiss. Their naked breasts met, turgid nipples rubbing together as they kissed. Margot must have felt Mr Snake stirring at the small of her back. She cupped the back of Erin's head, holding her to the kiss, and reached behind to give my dick a good squeeze. Erin drew back again, her breathing ragged. I could almost feel her puffy little pussy getting wet. Margot sat up, then turned to me. "Alright sailor. It's your turn in the barrel. Lose those bags and sit your ass up there on the top step. Us girls are gonna do some 'sperimenting." Curiosity got the better of me. I should have known. Margot must have a lot of faith in my will power. If I'd known before hand, I don't think I could have held out for as long as I did. We may have teased her to a fabulous orgasm, but that was nothing compared to what those two ladies did to me. I've got to tell you the whole story, 'cause it was… weird. They helped me pull my bags off. I sat down and the ladies took position between my outstretched legs. Mr Snake was standing very tall. Margot grinned up at me, then took him in hand. "You're job is to tell us when you're gonna cum. Otherwise, let us play. Erin's gonna try something new. You teased me, now it's my turn to tease you. Erin's gonna help. Do me proud know, and hang on as long as you can." After that, it was almost as if I wasn't there. Whatever was happening, it was happening among the three of them: Margot Erin and Mr Snake. It was the strangest feeling. I was intimately involved, but somehow not part of the action. I don't think Erin knew it was coming either. Margot was taking her to a place she'd never before gone. She was silent. There was something in her eyes, like she wasn't sure she wanted to do this. But then she looked like she couldn't wait. A shiver ran through Erin as she watched Margot's tongue swirl around the head, licking at my foreskin and tasting precum. She looked Erin in the eye as she tongued the head of my cock. Margot bussed the tip then pulled Erin's face to hers and kissed her. Margot's tongue slipped between Erin's lips, giving her a taste of cock. Erin didn't pull away. She sucked Margot's tongue and tasted me. Margot pulled away from the kiss, but left her hand on Erin's shoulder. She gave Mr Snake another lick, still watching Erin, then gently pulled Erin close. She kissed her again, then guided Erin's lips to my cock. 'ts a good thing I was sitting down. My legs were suddenly very shaky. I leaned back on the stacked towels with my elbows propped on the deck. Watching those two was one of the most lewd things I'd ever seen. If it had been another guy, it would have been amazing. That it was me was unbelievable. Erin lightly kissed the taut head. Her eyes never left Margot's. Mr Snake was throbbing purple. Her tongue snaked out to taste me, the tip running along beneath the crown. God, I came close to losing it. It was all I could do not to cum. I stifled a groan, but… maintained. Somehow. I almost said that I'd stayed propped up erect. Staying erect was not a problem. I don't think Mr Snake had ever been more erect. He was standing so tall, one small part of me was worried that I'd burst a blood vessel. Margot licked her lips, then opened her mouth slightly. Erin followed her guide. As her lips parted, Margot gently cupped the back of her head, urging her down. Erin's lips widened as they slipped around the head of my dick. Just like that, Erin was on her knees between my legs nursing my cock. Her tongue swirled around the tip. I don't… No, I know that she'd never had a cock in her mouth before that night. But damn she was good. The ladies' eyes stayed locked as Erin began sucking. Margot urged her on, whispering gentle commands. "…that's it baby!… use your tongue… taste him… you look so sexy… I love watching you suck cock… taste his precum on your tongue… swallow it… there's lots more… much more… he's gonna fill your mouth with cum… ummhh, I can almost taste him too…" Erin's eyes got big. She hesitated when Margot told her that I was going to cum in her mouth, and she was to swallow it down. But Margot kept gentle pressure on the back of Erin's head, not allowing her to pull away. Margot whispered in her ear, reminding her what they'd talked about, calming her. Margot leaned in to lick me, running her tongue along my shaft, flicking Erin's pursed lips. Erin trembled at the touch. I could tell she was turned on too. Margot taught her to breath through her nose as she took me deep. Margot's hand never strayed from the back of Erin's head. She'd press her head down, maybe a tiny bit farther than she wanted to go, almost forcing her to take more of my cock into her sweet mouth. Then she'd pull Erin back up again, then down, teaching her the rhythm. I could tell that Margot was hot for the whole thing. Some part of her liked forcing Erin to suck me. It was kinky, and Margot is definitely into kinky. I'm pretty sure Erin was liking it too. Her nipples were like stones on her quivering breasts. Margot was keeping her on edge too: cupping a bare breast, squeezing a nipple, stroking her ass, even caressing her pussyslit and teasing her clit. Erin was halfway to orgasm herself. Margot wanted a piece of my cock too. Occasionally she would lean down to kiss and lick the base of me cock where Erin's lips couldn't reach. If the purpose was to teach Erin the joys of giving head, Margot couldn't resist teasing me as well. She'd lean down to lick the crinkled sac of my balls as Erin sucked the shaft and feathered her tongue around the head. I curled my hands to fists, digging my fingernails into my palms. The pain helped me maintain. All the while Erin was sucking me, Margot kept teaching. Always talking, praising, cajoling, telling Erin how to give a man pleasure. Listening to Margot was almost as exciting as feeling Erin's lips pulling at my cock. I bit my lower lip hard, almost drawing blood. There reached a point where I couldn't watch anymore, and laid back to stare at the sky. I'd never have been able to maintain. Hearing and feeling were more than enough. My only wish I guess is that I'd set up a video camera. Watching later would have been something. Time out. Erin was a quick study. She had a good teacher. I learned things too. Oh not how to do it, or what feels good. I already knew that shit. It was more about what a woman thinks and feels as she's giving head. Kinda the power she has over a guy when his dick is in her mouth. Being a guy, I'd always seen a blowjob as an act of submission. Margot believed that it was more of an act of dominance. Margot may be right. Most guys I know will do just about anything for the chance to get their dicks in a woman's mouth. Hmmm. Gotta think about that one… Time in. Margot taught Erin how to take me to the edge, then hold me there. Oh I would have come long before I actually did, but that would have been as much from the novelty of a committed lesbian sucking my cock as from a woman's lips and tongue wrapped around my dick. As it was, I held out longer than I'd have believed possible. Margot helped occasionally by scraping a fingernail along my sac or lightly pinching a fold of the crinkled skin. But knowing Margot, it was as much to prolong the teasing as it was to distract me into continuing Erin's lesson. There's a little bit of sadist in my pal Margot. She proved that when she started working me too. To be fair, it was as much about her excitement as mine. She wanted me to cum now, so I would cum again later. The sight of Mr Snake straining so tall had her eager to ride cowgirl on him. She was almost drooling. She held Erin's head with one hand and caressed my sac with the other, always whispering trash in Erin's ear. Erin's head was bobbing up and down, sucking hard, taking as much of my shaft as she could. She learned to control her gag reflex a little. The first time I felt her throat working around the head of my dick as she swallowed, I damn near lost it. Margot could see what Erin was doing to me. She leaned down to lick my shaft and mouthed my sac. God it was heavenly! I groaned and found my voice. Though rusty with suppressed need, it was strong enough to warn the ladies. I was almost too late. I raised my head, looking down on them and barely got the words out before I launched with a groan. Margot took a firm grip on Erin's head and held her there. Erin felt the cum bubbling up my shaft. Her eyes were wide again as she looked up and met my gaze. That only added to the thrill. I resisted to urge to grab the back of her head and pull her mouth down; to plunge my spurting dick deep into her throat. I didn't have to. She did it herself. Three… Four… Five times, thick jets of creamy white cum shot from the head of my dick to splash against the walls of her throat. I cursed, my voice guttural with each jet as I emptied my balls in her mouth. Erin grabbed my bare ass to hold me tight, and sucked the cum out, swallowing frantically with each burst. Her eyes never left mine. Rivulets of white bubbled from the corners of her lips. It was like she was draining me. She sucked everything down while she feathered her tongue up my shaft urging even the last drops of cum out. For a girl that had never sucked cock before … Hell, for anyone, it was a magnificent blowjob. She finished as I collapsed. I fell back on the towels blowing like a whale. Erin swallowed the last few drops then under Margot's urging, licked the spend from my shaft and swallowed that too. Me, I was watching the stars go by, lost in the afterglow. I glanced down when felt Erin's fingers grasp the base of my deflating cock, then her lips pull back. She and Margot nestled between my legs kissing passionately, their tongues dancing. Erin stroked Mr Snake while Margot caressed my sac. The rest of me might have been on the moon. It was weird. I've never before been so intimately involved in something, but at the same time so excluded. Time out. Don't get me wrong. It didn't bother me. I knew that neither lady was excluding me on purpose. They were just using me – using Mr Snake – as a new, exciting way of having sex between the two of them. But it was… weird. Time in. I watched them kissing until they came up for air. They noticed me together, then smiled and pressed their cheeks together, framing my dick. Their hands were caressing Mr Snake gently. Erin's crinkled nipple indented the soft flesh of Margot's bare breast where they touched. God they were sexy. I wish I had a photo of it. "Thanks James." Erin whispered. "That was incredible." Jesus! She was thanking me for allowing her to give me a fabulous blowjob! "Whatsamatter James?" Margot asked grinning. "You look like you've been hit with that hammer again." I just shook my head. It was the kind of question that needed a week's reply, or none. I stuck with none. The ladies went back to kissing and fondling each other. And Mr Snake. He was snoozin', but he was also liking that. After minute, Margot leaned back against my leg. "Alright! That's it! Everybody, outta the pool!" Margot said in a whisper roughened with passion. "We need more room to maneuver. Somewhere big and soft." Erin moved back to let Margot up. "Hop out sweetie. Get that shower going so we can rinse off." Then she turned in my arms to give me a kiss. "You and your friend better be ready again bucko. I'm really in the mood for cock now… and I'd bet Erin is too. We're gonna fuck your socks off." I raised my bare foot from the water. "Too late." Margot grinned. It was a lecherous grin. "Then we're gonna fuck something else off. Did you take your vitamins today little boy?" She asked sweetly. "Yes Ma'am." I said. "Once a day, and twice on Fridays." (Guess which day that was.) Ooh boy I thought. Margot's really in the zone. I may be in trouble. Bless me Lord. I've been good. Don't let these ladies eat me alive. Give me the strength I need to satisfy them. Amen. Who says I'm not religious? It took us all of about five minutes to rinse off. Most of that time was spent I touch and taste. Margot was horny. Margot's always horny. But even for Margot, she was horny. Erin feasting on her nipples and stroking her pussylips while we showered may have had something to do with that. That, and me kissing the back of her neck. Margot's wild for that. She gets goosebumps all the way to her toes. We dried each other then I sent the ladies downstairs while I tidied the place up. I needed at least a little time to recover before Mr Snake was awake again. Meanwhile I was certain that those two would find some way to keep themselves occupied. I threw the cover on the spa and shut down the pump. I hung the suits and towels over a rack by the shower, gathered the empties and the ice bucket. There was one beer left, so I stretched out on the deck beside the spa and drank it slowly, just enjoying the city lights. For some reason, it didn't seem strange to be calmly sipping a beer in the nude atop a building downtown. The neighbors had packed it in too, so I had the rooftop to myself. It was nice. After awhile I drained the beer, hit the lights and trooped down to Margot's bedroom. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms A.I. – Artificial Intelligence; a computer programmed to think. Aikido – A form of Martial Arts; a Japanese art of self- defense employing locks and holds and utilizing the principle of nonresistance to cause an opponent's own momentum to work against him. Bags – Short for 'baggys'; loose (voluminous) shorts or swim trunks Fuck-buddy – A friend with whom one has casual, that is no-strings, sex; a sex partner with no strong emotional ties. Girly-girl – A young woman with a strictly feminine personality; think pink ribbons and bows. Guinness – A dark beer (Stout) brewed in Ireland. Hetero – Heterosexual; straight; sex with a person of the opposite gender, as oposed to Homosexual, sex with a person of the same gender. Lager - a light beer brewed by slow fermentation and matured under refrigeration. Nanotechnology – Microscopic robots; the design and application thereof. Pad Prik – Stir-fried vegetables (chili paste, Kaffir leaves, onions and green beans), with or without meat (chicken, pork or beef) or seafood (shrimp or squid); served over steamed rice. Phat – Fabulous; great; fantastic. Sensei – Master; teacher of martial arts. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 1Pt. 2 This is the fourth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache", Chapter III, Interlude I: Margot (cont.) Please include it under the category Novels and Novellas. For the sake of your readers, I've included an index which defines some of the more obscure terms. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. Here we continue the story of the tryst between our hero and his 'fuck buddy' Margot, with a surprise guest, Erin. The preliminaries have been completed in the hot tub, and now their moving to the main action in Margot's bedroom. Hang on. The action gets hotter... Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mrs. Hart's Ache III The Ladies in My Life Interlude I: Margot (cont.) "I'm Margot's 'fuck buddy', the one she comes to for no-strings hetero sex. She prefers a woman in her bed on a daily basis, but occasionally, needs to have a real cock." They'd kept themselves occupied alright. They didn't notice me come in. Margot was spread out on the bed. Erin's face was between her thighs licking some serious pussy. Mr Snake was getting interested again. I decided it was time to taste Erin's little puss. Margot's bed is about the size of my entire bedroom. What's larger than a king-size mattress? Whatever it is, that's her bed. She must have custom made sheets to fit it. The ladies were spread out in the center of it. Way room enough for me too. Erin had Margot lying face up with one pillow behind her head and another beneath her ass. Margot was fondling her own tits and talking trash again. Erin was lying between Margot's legs munching. Her legs were spread wide too. I took that as an invitation. I crawled onto the bed, between her legs. She must have felt me coming, but didn't react to my approach. Her little pussy was wet. I blew a stream of air down on it and watched the goosebumps race up her spine. She moaned into Margot's pussy. I kissed her little buttcheeks, delighting in the texture of her soft skin. She pulled her knees beneath her to raise her ass in offering. It was time to show Erin what I knew about licking pussy. I slipped down on my back, grasped her bare ass in my hands and pulled her juicy little pussy down to my tongue. Scha-wait!!! Every woman's pussy tastes the same, but different. Erin's was truly sweet. Her puffy vulva opened readily for my tongue. I tasted her sweet juices as I teased the delicate petals inside. Her belly clenched above me, a shiver running through. My mind smiled. Then I gave her everything I had learned from the good ladies in Misawa. And everything I had learned since. Erin was likin' it. I must have done good, because she kinda lost interest in licking Margot. She didn't stop, but occasionally she'd rest the side of her face, eyes closed, on Margot's bare mons, as if she was listening to the mouse whisper in her ear. Tremors ran through her body constantly as I explored her pussy with my lips and tongue. With her little buttcheeks in my hands and my thumbs hooked to either side of her pussy, I could control her movements. Soon she was pumping her ass in my hands, desperate to rub her pussy against my face and ride my tongue. But I held her tight, teasing her clit. Margot was forgotten. Erin started to reach down between her legs to grasp my head. But by that time, Margot had reversed herself to slip beneath Erin's chest to suck her nipples. Margot grabbed Erin's hands and held her there while we feasted on her treasures. Erin laid her face on Margot's chest, whimpering. She was on top, but trapped between Margot and I. She crouched there on her hands and knees while we ate her up: Margot's lips, teeth and tongue sucking, biting and licking her breasts and nipples, while mine worried her pussy and clit. Little Erin was in heaven. With that kind of attention from two experts, Erin didn't last long. In five minutes, she was squirming. In ten, she was writhing. In fifteen, she was cumming. Margot latched on to her nipples, nibbling. I pulled her pussy down to lash her clit with my tongue. Erin launched! Her body went rigid in our grasp. Her whimpers turned to moans, her moans to gasps, her gasps to urgent keening as her pussyjuice flooded my face. Continuous shudders rippled through her body as her orgasm roared. I hadn't thought it possible, but she was louder than Margot. We held her there working her until she was pleading for us to stop, then gave her one more. As she soared again, I let go and cradled her ass in my hands. She rubbed her pussylips against my mouth frantically as the orgasm claimed her, held it for an instant straining, then went limp on Margot's chest. I pulled out from beneath her as Margot shifted around sideways, holding Erin's face to her breasts. I wiped my face on the loose sheet as I crawled up to Margot. We kissed hungrily as Erin crouched on her knees panting, holding on to Margot's arms. "Mmmhh… she is delicious, isn't she." Margot murmured through the kiss. "She has the sweetest pussy. Cute too. I wish mine was still that cute." "Girl, you know yours is every bit as sweet." I whispered. "Tangy too." She grinned. "In fact, it's almost time for me to taste you too. I never get tired of your pussy. It'll always special to me." See. I told you that I'm not a complete Homer. That's exactly what she wanted to hear me say. Time out. Guys, another clue: it never hurts to complement a girl's charms. Particularly just after having sex with a different girl. Don't denigrate the first lady, but make the second one feel just as special. Or more so. Talk about a secure investment. It pays fabulous dividends, as Margot proceeded to demonstrate. Time in. Erin was coming around again as Margot slipped from beneath her. Eyes heavy lidded, she was sated for the moment. She lay back on a pillow watching as Margot rolled me on my back and straddled my chest. I held her bare ass in my hands as she crouched to kiss me. I ran my hands over her bare skin. Back, butt, thighs and breasts. The last ended with a gentle caress of her nipples, tweaking. Margot loves that. She was almost defensive about her nipples the first time we got naked together. That is, until I went nuts over them. I love to play with nipples. The bigger and puffier the better. Margot's are big. And very puffy. We kissed for a while, tasting each other like old lovers do. We hadn't balled each other for a couple of months. It was good. I held the cones of her breasts and licked back and forth, sucking and nibbling at her chest as she crouched over me. She reached behind to fondle Mr Snake, who by that time was standing tall again. She rubbed his head along the small of her back. It made us both hot. I pulled her ass up. She scooted forwards until her knees were beside my shoulders and her lovely puss was centered over my lips. I do so love pussy. I love to eat pussy. I love to feel a woman go nuts when my tongue teases her clit. Margot was lovin' it too. She was going fruit loops. She grabbed the railing of the headboard, threw her head back and let out a wail as I pulled her ass down. My tongue speared her puss, driving through the lips and into her entry, wiggling. Margot got everything I'd given Erin. And more. Within minutes she was bouncing on my tongue, talking trash again through teeth clenched in passion. The sight must have been more than Erin could stand without joining us. I know that it would have made me hot to watch. Margot's thighs blocked my view, but felt the bed shift as Erin crawled over to take Mr Snake in hand. Soft hands. Soft lips! Oh mutha! Hers were beyond excellent! Erin had learned her lessons well. She was sucking my cock again, and seemed to be loving it. I certainly did. Mr Snake was in ecstasy. As I licked Margot's pussy, Erin practiced deep throating my dick. She couldn't take it all, but damn, she could take a lot of it. I groaned into Margot's pussy as I felt Erin's lips slither down my shaft. Down, hold for a minute swallowing, then up again sucking as her tongue feathered around the head, then down again. Tongue and lips working me, with a little scrape of teeth just to keep me on edge. She'd learned well. In no time she had me right where she wanted me. I was reaming Margot's pussy like a jack hammer with my tongue when I felt those hot lips sliding off my dick. A cool breeze wafted around my shaft as the bed shifted again. Obviously I couldn't see anything, and Margot had her back to the action. But I felt Erin straddle my groin behind Margot. Erin steadied herself with a hand on Margot's shoulder. Margot felt Erin behind her. She looked over her shoulder to whisper, "Get some baby!" Then she moaned as I swiped my tongue along her clit. I felt Erin grasp my cock to run the head along the divide of her puss. She was teasing herself with it, pressing the blunt end against her clit like she would a big dildo. Mine didn't vibrate, but it did expand. We both could feel Mr Snake throb in her hand. Margot was right on the edge. I was frantic to finish her, 'cause I had to watch Erin take a cock for the first time. But at the same time, I knew she deserved my best. I gave it to her. She climaxes most often when I nibble her clit. That night was no different. I pulled her hips down, pressing her pussy to my mouth, lashed her clit five or six times as fast as I could. Then sucked it in and clamped down. Instant orgasm. Margot hadn't expected it so fast, but she loves surprises. Particularly surprises like that. One little nibble and she was gone, wailing to the world At the same moment Erin lifted herself high and pressed the head of my cock through her soft vulva and into the moist warmth of her vagina. I knew she was small and tight. I hadn't known that she was a virgin. I mean I'd known that she hadn't taken a cock before, but I guess I'd expected that she'd at least used a dildo, her fingers or something. Tampons at least. But there was definitely some resistance, something blocking the way. I mean, there's tight, there's real tight, then there's cherry. We were deep in cherry territory. I didn't have time to wonder about that. Margot still had, still needed my attention. I had her ass in my hands, holding her clit to my tongue and teeth while she rubbed her juicy pussy against my mouth. She was bouncing off the walls, cumming. Too many things happening at once. Oh man, it'd be nice to always have such problems. I felt Erin slowly settling. She gasped, half in pain, half in pleasure as my dick stretched her entry and burrowed in. She bounced there for a few moments, getting used to the feeling. Then there was a distinct 'pop' as Mr Snake broke through the barrier in Erin's little puss. A quickly suppressed shriek burst from her throat. Meanwhile Margot pumped her ass, jamming her pussy to my mouth as I lashed her clit again. Erin's scream helped set her off again. It's almost as if she felt my dick surge within her puss. Orgasms were rippling through her belly as I worked her cruelly. Finally she couldn't take any more and practically threw herself off my face. She landed next to me, curled into a ball shuddering, in the throes of her climax. When she launched, Erin's hands fell to my chest, supporting herself. Her face was a study in fear, pleasure, pain and wonder. Mr Snake was lodged firmly, deep in her puss. I took her bare ass in my hands, supporting her weight and slowly inched my cock in and out. She gasped again, her eyes wide as my cock surged in her slick vagina. As I slowly pumped, I clenched my ass causing Mr Snake to throb, expanding a bit. Erin's eyes got even bigger before they rolled back in her head. Her eyes closed. Her back arched. She whimpered to the ceiling. I paused to let her just feel the fullness for a moment. She took her bottom lip between her teeth, biting. Then she began slowly pumping her ass in my hands, fucking herself on my dick. Time out. Jesús Cristo, she was tight! Erin has the tightest little pussy I've fucked since I popped CindyJo Conolly's cherry. Poor CindyJo couldn't walk the next day. Her mom was some kind of pissed. Mom lit after me with that broom handle I mentioned earlier. Time in. Anyway, Erin wasn't taking all of me. She couldn't. I'd tear something. But she was taking as much as she could stand. Her nipples were popped, dark rose and hard as gumdrops on her swaying breasts. I released her ass to reach under her arms, caressing her lovelies and thumbing those bursting nubs. Her pussy muscles clenched, gripping my shaft. She liked my hands fondling her chest. She liked it even more when I slid one hand down her belly and mons to tweak her clit. "Oh God Yes!" she exclaimed. "…Mmhh! Jesus your dick is huge… D-don't stop… rub my clit…! Ooohh yes!… That's s-so good!…" Still shuddering from her multiple orgasms, Margot crawled over to straddle my legs behind Erin. She couldn't stay away from that action. I couldn't blame her. She cupped Erin's breasts, tweaking her nipples and kissing her neck. Erin was between us trapped again. She was definitely likin' that! We all were. Margot rode her back, matching her moves as she rode my cock. Her mons pressed against Erin's butt, pushing her onto my cock. Woohah! Dual dueling cowgirls! Gentlemen. Ladies. It was totally Phatalicious! Margot was talkin' trash again, urging Erin higher. She bit Erin's earlobe as she squeezed her breasts, scraping her fingernails over Erin's nipples. Erin was going not-so-quietly nuts. I had to watch out for Erin. I couldn't thrust up as she was coming down or she would have hurt herself. I don't know, maybe the pain of her vagina being stretched by a thick cock is something of an aphrodisiac to a woman. I did jog my hips a bit. Couldn't help it. But I resisted the urge to grab her asscheeks in hand and really ram my dick into her puss. It wasn't easy. Erin was pumpin' hard and Mr Snake had the urge to burrow deep. As it was, he kissed her cervix more than once as she rode me. Each time, she gasped, so I know it had to hurt at least a little. Erin has great control. She lasted longer than I would've bet she could. We must have fucked like that for ten minutes before she soared. Margot was so caught up in it, I think she had a mini-orgasm too when Erin lit off in her arms. I held back just long enough to make certain Erin was zooming before I launched too. Erin's orgasm sent ripples through the muscles of her vagina. Mr Snake felt every one. I pumped a bit harder as her pussy clenched on my dick, then let loose as I pumped. Jesus, it was good. Her little pussy seemed to suck the cum from my balls. Erin climaxed again, over the top of the first when she felt my cum jetting into her puss. She and Margot wailed together. I bellowed the chorus. We all strained against each other, lost in Nirvana for that timeless moment. Then collapsed together: Erin to my chest and Margot atop Erin's back, all sweaty and sweet; breathless and smelling of good sex. Erin's head came to rest in the hollow of my shoulder. She pressed herself to me, gasping for air. Residual thrills ran through her body as Mr Snake softened and shrank, yet buried deep in her faintly aching pussy. "Oh my God… that was… so great!" She panted. "Now… I know… what Margot means… when she says… she needs… a cock… once in awhile…" Margot squeezed Erin's breasts again. "Yeah baby… That's exactly what I mean…" Margot agreed. "Now you know why I keep this guy around… He knows how to fuck better than any guy I've ever met, including my ex… And he was good at it, even if he was a complete shit as a person…" Margot grinned down at me over Erin's shoulder. "It also doesn't hurt his case that he's pretty well equipped too." She rubbed her tits against Erin's back. "By the way sweet thing, how's your little pussy doin'?" Erin moaned laughing ruefully. "Oh shit! Don't ask!" she groaned. "I may not walk for a week. You're not kiddin' about him being well equipped. I feel like I've been reamed with a five-inch pipe." She kissed my chest to take the sting out of her words. But we could all tell that there was a lot of truth in what she'd said. Margot rolled right, then propped herself on an elbow to watch as Erin inched backwards allowing a snoozing Mr Snake to slip out of her pussy. We both felt a distinct 'pop' when his head pulled out. Erin gasped, then stretched her legs out and collapsed to my chest again. I put my arms around her cradling her to me and kissed the top of her sweaty head. She snuggled close and smiled at Margot. They reached out to each other and held hands. "Just think…" Margot whispered with a big grin, "…we got all night to do it again!" Erin's head popped up from my chest. "Jesus Margot! You horn-dog!" She giggled. "I just had some of the best sex of my life. With a guy yet. Give me a chance to savor it a little, huh? Willya please?" Margot and I had to laugh. I hugged Erin to me. She laid the side of her face against my chest and giggled. "After all, a girl only loses her virginity once." Margot's laughter cut off abruptly. Her eyes grew round. She looked at me, the question bright in her eyes. I nodded once and squeezed Erin's shoulders again. "Holy shit!" She exclaimed. "Holy… shit! I didn't know… Your first time with anything and you take a cock that size!? Girlfriend! Are you out of your friggin' mind!? He could have killed you with that thing!" She shook her head wonderingly. "Hey baby." Erin said softly. "You told me that he would be good, didn't you? Hey, I trust you. I certainly trust him. He let me control that part of it." Erin squeezed my shoulder affectionately. "James knew about two minutes into it that he was about to pop my cherry for me." She continued. "That's part of what made it so good for me: he held back. He made me want more, but he wouldn't give me the whole thing. God, it was frustrating at the time, but it… it just made the whole thing better for me." She squeezed Margot's hand. "I knew he wouldn't hurt me. I guess he wouldn't let me hurt myself either. Does that sound right?" Ooh yeah. We were all in complete agreement on that one. We lay gabbing together for awhile. Erin seemed quite comfortable laying on my chest. I was certainly happy to have her there. She was curious to know if sex with a guy was always like that. Not having any experience in that area, I let Margot answer that one. "Uh-Uh girlfriend. No way. It's always different." She said shaking her head. "Just like it is with different woman." She thought about it for a moment, then said. "Sex with James is different every time. Sometimes he's soft and slow, which is really good. Sometimes he pounds me into the mattress, which is really good too. And sometimes I control the whole thing. Hell, it's always good with him. But then, he's not the typical guy." She looked thoughtful. "It just depends on what you need." She shook her head. "I've had bad sex too. The first guy I was with practically raped me, then left me hanging. It hurt like a bitch and I was left frustrated at the same time. What an asshole." Margot was pissed at the memory. She looked at me, her eyes flashing. "Then the prick went out and bragged to everyone about popping my cherry…" I touched her arm. She came back to herself with a start. "Whoa there Trinity!" I said grinning. "Don't take me out! I'm not one of the programs. Not all of us are complete pricks. Only partial pricks." Mr Snake took the opportunity to roll over and sit up a bit. Margot smiled again, then reached down to give him a pat. "Yeah, I know… It just pisses me off when I think about it." She took a deep breath, then laughed at herself. "So I won't think about it." Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 1Pt. 2 She snuggled down to exchange kisses with Erin. "I'll think about eating pussy instead." We lay there talking and touching for a while. Relaxing. Erin stayed stretched out over me. I put my arm around Margot and she snuggled close. Erin didn't move much, but when she did we could tell that she was a bit achy downstairs. No more Mr Snake for her that night. After a bit the ladies got up. They disappeared into the bathroom together. I think Margot gave Erin something to clean herself out and ease that ache. Both looked fresher, and Erin wasn't walking as tenderly. Whatever it was obviously worked. I took my turn at the facilities in the guest bathroom. Margot keeps that stocked for visitors. She's got a few things there just for me. I took a quick shower. Hot, then two minutes of cold. I needed it to wake me up. The ladies were wearing me out. I knew that they weren't finished with Mr Snake yet. Margot ended up licking Erin's little puss while I serviced Margot's again with my tongue. Their last orgasms that night were as wild and wonderful as their first. Erin's right. Margot is a horn dog. That's okay. I am too. Me and Mr Snake. He got his last one that night too during a tongue bath. A double tongue bath. The two ladies went down on me together that time. They took turns sucking my dick and licking my balls and vice versa. Margot even brought herself off as I filled her mouth with cum. Erin wanted a taste too, so she ended up sucking the residue off after Margot swallowed my load and released my cock. By that time, we all were whipped. I brushed my teeth, etc. in the guest bath while the ladies used Margot's. We all met back in the bed and curled up together. I let them place me in the center. They both took a shoulder and we all soon were snoozin'. We all woke early the next morning. Margot first I guess, because I woke to the sensation of a pair of soft lips tugging on Mr Snake. I laid there enjoying the moment, then glanced over to see Erin's eyes open sleepily. She blinked, then took in the scene. When she looked back at me, her eyes were dancing. Unless we'd had a visitor in the night, the hump beneath the comforter could only be Margot tucked between my legs. Erin snuggled over to me for a morning peck on the cheek, then popped up to the bathroom, bare butt flashing in the morning light. Nice pooper! From the way she was moving, I could tell that she was a bit tender about the midsection. Not crippled, but definitely sore. No Mr Snake for her today. She came back minutes later, morning fresh and giggling with a bottle of mouthwash in hand. I took a swig, then pulled her down to my chest. Not as good as a toothbrush, but better than nothing. Besides, Mr Snake was heavily involved. Margot never sweats the small stuff: that we were awake and moving didn't bother her in the least. She didn't let anything distract her from her morning workout. The blowjob she was giving me was as terrific as always. Erin leaned into me for a kiss. She laid across my chest folded in my arms as we spent some time discovering new things about each other. I reached down below her naked ass to find her button, and spent some time massaging her pussylips and especially her clit. Great face. Really soft lips. We were both breathing heavy before she pulled back. About then I got a bit distracted, which made her giggle again. Margot was deep-throating Mr Snake. I defy any guy to maintain under those conditions, particularly as Erin began teasing my nipples with her teeth and tongue, sucking and nibbling. As she worked me over, she reached down beneath the covers to cup the back of Margot's head, holding her face to my cock. A muffled moan rose from beneath, demanding lips buzzing around my shaft. Trapped between them, I laid back and let it happen. After twenty minutes of bliss locked between the two ladies, I felt Margot's throat massaging my dick. With a vast groan, I erupted, filling her mouth with my cum. She swallowed, then licked the remnants from my cock. A final caress, then her head poked out from under the covers. She was grinning as usual, with a drop of cum on her chin. "That's another thing I love about you Margot", I said with a lazy smile. "You do know how to brighten a new day. Mr Snake says 'Thank You'." "He already said 'Good Morning' Studley", she said, grinning. "And good morning to you too!" She patted my cheek, then moved out from beneath the covers. She stopped long enough to give me a peck on the mouth and accept a passionate kiss from Erin, then slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom herself. I flipped Erin onto her back and gave her a passionate kiss of my own, spoiled slightly when she began giggling again. I grinned back and pinched her nipple before padding downstairs to start the coffee. Erin whistled as I walked away naked. Her voice followed me down the hall. "Hey! Nice ass, for a guy!" she shouted as I disappeared down the stairs. While the coffee was brewing, I took the time for morning ablutions, then came back with a full carafe, three mugs and sundry on a tray. Meanwhile those two were back in the bed, breast-to-breast sucking face and murmuring to each other, with Margot stretched out between Erin's widespread thighs. Oh baby! The memory makes my dick hard. I laid out beside them, sipping my coffee and watching as they made long, slow, steamy love to each other. Margot was the aggressor. She attacked Erin, both anxious and eager to bring her to orgasm. Erin too was caught up in the action. Neither spared a glance for me. Time out. Well, maybe a glance. But they certainly weren't distracted by my presence. If anything, I think it added to their excitement to have me watch. Mr Snake was recovering rapidly. Time in. Finally writhing as one, belly-to-belly, grinding their hairless pussies together, both ladies lit off, first Erin, then Margot an instant later. Erin lay limp and panting, yet lost in her climax, but the action only whetted Margot's appetite. She almost leapt off of Erin's body and onto mine. This was Margot at her most hyper. I rolled on my back and that quick she was astride me with Mr Snake in hand. I held her thighs as she ran the head of my dick along her slit, quickly coating the nut with her juices. Almost before I could take a breath she rose up on her haunches and pressed the head between the lips of her sex. She poised for a moment, anticipation on her face, then jammed herself down, driving the shaft deep into her pussy. Like that we were off. Hard. Fast. Deep. Completely wild. It was a furious fuck: no thought of tenderness or technique. Just two animals rutting frantically. Body-slamming sex. I took her breasts in my hands, gently squeezing and rolling her fat nipples between my fingers, lightly pinching. She steadied herself, hands locked to my forearms as she bounced up and down, driving my dick deep into her body, moaning and talkin' trash with each push. I joined in with some trash of my own, then Erin woke up a bit and added some too, urging Margot along. She reached behind to squeeze Margot's bare butt, then added a smack or four across her friend's asscheeks. Margot was flyin'. Suddenly her eyes popped open and let out a wail. Erin had pressed between her buttcheeks and stabbed a finger into her ass. Margot launched, gasping obscenities. That pulled me in with her. I grabbed her hips, holding tight and jack-hammered up, roaring as my cum jetted deep into her pussy. Margot soared again, wailing to the ceiling, as she felt my dick pulsing, clutching my arms, grinding her pussylips against my pubic bone and straining against me. Erin joined the party, fingering her own clit and Margot's ass, echoing Margot's moans, shivering as she came too. We three strained together for a few moments as the last of our mutual orgasms faded, then collapsed back on the bed. Margot fell to my chest, then slowly stretched out her legs, laying limp atop me. A thoroughly deflated Mr Snake slowly oozed out of her puss as we lay gasping together. I pulled Erin close so that her head tucked into the hollow of my shoulder. Face to face, the girls gave each other intimate kisses as I gently stroked their bare backs. "God, that was so hot!", Erin breathed. "If I wasn't so achy downstairs, I'd jump on him myself." "Thank God for small favors", I said softly. "After that session with your gal-pal here, even I need at least a few minutes to recoup." Both ladies giggled and tilted their faces up to kiss my cheeks. "Don't tell me that you're finally worn out", Margot laughed, rubbing her breasts against my chest. "I don't think that's ever happened before, at least, not when you've been with me!" "Lady, you can't make me feel bad", I answered. "Any guy would be worn out after fucking like that with you two. You're both hotties alone. Together as a tag-team, you're about as much as any man can handle." I pulled her face up for a kiss. "You've done it again sweetie", I murmured. "Every time I'm with you, you top yourself. Thank you." "Ahhh! I bet you say that to all the girls", she whispered. But the glow in her eyes let me know that the complement had been well received. I squeezed Erin's bottom as I kissed her too. "…And thank you too, little girl", I said with a grin. "I think… Naahh, I know that it was as memorable as you had hoped." "No doubt James", she whispered. "You and our girlfriend here…", she patted Margot's butt, "…made this better than I could have dreamed. If she doesn't mind, I'm gonna join your 'Fuck Buddy' club." "What d'ya think Margot…? Is there a space open for me?" She arched her eyebrows as she glanced at Margot. Margot didn't hesitate. "Hell yes!", she exclaimed, lifting her head from my chest, her face alight. "I don't mind at all. And we don't have to meet all together either. Sometimes I'll want him all to myself, as I'm sure you will too. But other times we three can meet together. This kind of action is just my style." Margot was getting Margot-hyper again. I could almost see her pussyjuices flowing at the thought. "You don't mind, do you Studley?", she implored, batting her eyelashes at me. "I promise it'll be lots of fun for you." As if Mr Snake would ever forgive me if I refused. "Well… I don't know… You're asking a lot you know…" About then, Margot started rubbing her bare tits against my chest and kissing my face. "Please…? Please…? Please…?", she whined like a little girl begging her daddy for a treat, licking my jawline. Erin joined in, nibbling on my ear and running her fingertips along my thigh. "Please…? Please…? Please…?" she breathed, then ran her moist tongue along my neck, sending little bolts of lightning straight to my nuts. Mr Snake was likin' that. "Well… Okay… If that what you two really want…", I said with feigned reluctance. "I'm in…" Margot reached down and smacked my hip. "As if you'd ever turn down such an offer, you jerk!", she laughed. "By the way, your Mr Snake gave you away." She was right of course. My dick was getting hard at the thought, sliding up the groove of her ass. She reached back and gave it a stroke, then patted the head gently. "Whoa boy! Down!", she said, squeezing the shaft. "We've got to get you some breakfast first. You're gonna need your strength before we're done with you today." She grabbed my face and slid up my body to kiss me. "We don't want to have you pass out on us quite yet…" Erin took over, pulling my face to hers. "Yeah Studley", she murmured, mimicking Margot's whisper. "My poor little pussy is starting to feel much better now… Maybe we can try a little slow fucking after breakfast…" That did it. Mr Snake was wide awake again. Suffice to say, he was snoozin' again, completely satisfied by that afternoon. As were Margot and Erin, my new 'fuck buddy' tandem. Erin and I did manage another scene, with Margot along as a helper, making sure that Erin little Ms Puss stayed nice and wet. Between the two of them, I was exhausted. Esther from the deli arrived somewhere in there too, carrying a basket of goodies. We all restored our strength, and spent some time with talk, touch and taste too. All-in-all, a marvelous date, with the promise of more good times to come. I drove home a happy guy. Time out. Oh. One last thing. Remember the scene on the roof? Turns out we did have an audience. One that Margot had set up. I told you that she was working on a session with me, her and a hard-core lesbian girly-girl didn't I? Erin wasn't that girl. Three ladies had rooms set up by Margot at that hotel I mentioned. All had binoculars trained on us. None of them were aware of the others, but all three commented to Margot that they enjoyed the show, particularly watching me stretch out naked sipping a beer. Apparently I gave them a good view of Mr Snake in repose. Something special came of her plan. But that's a different story. Time in. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms Blowjob – Fellatio; Sucking on a penis, usually to orgasm; oral sex. Cervix – The narrow outer end of a woman's uterus; the entrance to a woman's womb. Cherry – Virgin; unbroached; hymen intactus. Clit – Clitoris. Dick – Penis. Eating pussy – performing cunnilingus; oral stimulation (using ones lips, teeth and/or tongue) of a woman's vulva and/or clitoris. Face – (1)Kissing. (2) Oral sex; cunnilingus or fellatio; see 'Blowjob' or 'Eating pussy'. Fruit Loops – Crazy; excited beyond the ability to control oneself. Fuck-buddy – A friend with whom one has casual, no-strings sex; a sex partner without strong or entangling emotional ties; can be but not necessarily is a close friend. Girly-girl - A young woman with a strictly feminine personality; think pink ribbons and bows. Homer – Idiot; moron; from the character Homer Simpson of 'The Simpsons'. Horn-dog – A person who is constantly 'horny' or sexually stimulated and on the lookout for a sexual partner or partners with whom to mate. Hyper – In the state of excitement; stimulated; awake, aware and vocal. Misawa – A city on the northern tip of the island of Honshū Japan; the US Military maintains a base there. Mons – Mons Veneris or Mons Pubis; New Latin in origin; literally, 'eminence of Venus'; a rounded eminence of fatty tissue upon the pubic symphysis especially of the human female. Mutha – Exclaimation of sorts; short for Mother-Fucker; very good. Phatalicious – Phat; cool; the ultimate in good; better than great; stupendous. Pissed off – Angry (very). Pooper – Ass; buttocks (usually a woman's). Pussy – Vulva; the external genatilia of a woman. Scha-wait – Sweet; better than the best. Snoozin' – Sound asleep. Talkin' trash – Using 'dirty' or obscene language to add to a sexual partner's excitement. Tits – Breasts. Tongue bath – Fellatio or cunnilingus; oral sex; see 'Blowjob' or 'Eating pussy'. Trinity – A character from the movie trilogy 'The Matrix'. Zooming or Zoomin' – In the state of orgasm Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 2 This is the fifth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache, Chapter III, Interlude II: Bethany Please include it under the category Novels and Novellas. For the sake of your readers, I've included an index which defines some of the more obscure terms. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. This is a tale of yet another of our hero's playmates, Bethany. They share the sports of windsurfing and fucking. They're very good at both. But in this tale, Bethany has a bit of a problem. Our hero is only too glad to assist. He can't solve the primary problem, but he does know how to get his lady-friend back on track. Mr Snake to the rescue… Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mrs. Hart's Ache III The Ladies in My Life (cont.) Interlude II: Bethany "…Got my ass kicked by my Aikido sensei. Whacked off a couple of times. Did Bethany…" Next, there was my pal Bethany: she is a 22-year-old grad student. We met last year at the Gorge, wind surfing. She's a crazy lady when the wind is up. Being too involved in her studies (graduate work in Computer Engineering), she doesn't have time for a serious relationship. We're more pals than lovers. Pals that fuck. Long and lean at 5'11", 135, she's got a six-pack gut too. She has dark green eyes, and straight dark blond hair that hangs almost to her waist. She's an double-A cup with bee-sting breasts (I mean, she has no tits), gumdrop nipples and the skinniest little ass. She's also tanned to a golden brown over her entire body except for four little bitty triangles of white: her chest, centered over her nipples; her mons; and the point at which the crease of her ass meets the small of her back. She wears very small, totally phat bikinis on the beach. Bethany fucks like she windsurfs: crazy. She's all over the bed; against the wall; hanging from the headboard. And that's just the foreplay. Bethany also has a fair-size clit that she loves to have sucked. Bethany swallows too. My pal called one afternoon a few weeks ago. She was almost frantic. She had been in the lab working a problem 20 hours a day for two solid weeks. She'd hit the wall. Nothing worked, not even a supreme pizza with extra pepperoni. The only answer was an emergency session with me to get the cobwebs swept out of her brain. She didn't sound at all like herself, so I dropped what I was doing and grabbed a couple of things. I wrote a quick note for Mom, then cruised over to Bethany's place. She lives in a duplex near the university. When Bethany answered the door in her robe, I could see that this would take some doing. She was a mess. She looked like she hadn't had a good night's sleep in a week. Her eyes were red, her long hair hung lifeless and stringy. Her body looked sort of caved in and boneless. She appeared to be twice her age, and then some. Taking her to bed and fucking her brains back tracking may have been the ultimate answer, but there was work to do before she was ready for that. For a woman, Bethany isn't that concerned about her looks. Less so than most straight women I know. But she wouldn't let even me, her pal, see her in such a state unless she was really strung out over her problem. I think she realized it at the last minute, because she welled up, began mumbling that she wasn't feeling so hot after all and tried to call it off. I knew better. I just took her hand and led her to the kitchen and made her sit at the bar while I made tea. I gabbed away about something while putting the water on to boil, but she just sat there looking uncomfortable. She excused herself after a minute and went into the bathroom to make herself a bit more presentable. While she was gone I pulled the hip flask from my jacket and put a healthy slug of Jameson's in her mug. Then I filled a tea ball with her favorite brew, an Anxi Oolong. By the time she came back, the water was ready. She looked a little better. She'd washed her face and combed her hair but still looked terribly tired. I poured her mug full and let it steep for a couple of minutes, then presented her with the tea-&. Her eyebrows went up when she took a sip. For the first time since I'd arrived, a tentative smile played along her lips. I watched her drink the tea while I gabbed some more, then made her another cup and watched her drink that too. While she drank the second cup, I began massaging her shoulders. Two healthy shots of good Irish Whiskey will get anyone relaxed. I could feel the tension leaking out of her body as I worked at the muscles of her neck. She groaned with pleasure occasionally, but otherwise just sat silently with her eyes closed and let me work my magic. Before she was completely limp, I let her finish her tea while I ran a tub of hot, hot water with bath salts sprinkled in. Her bathtub is one of those huge old cast iron monstrosities, large enough for two comfortably and three if they're friendly. While the water ran, I stripped to my boxers. Then I gathered towels and led her to the tub. She started to open her robe, but I stopped her. I made her stand quietly while I slipped the robe from her shoulders. Bethany was left standing in a camisole and bikini panties. I massaged her neck for a moment. Then I slid the thin straps off of her shoulders, and gently tugged the camisole down her slender body, taking her panties down her legs with it. Behind, she has that small triangle of untanned skin centered on the upper curves of her asscheeks. That tiny patch of white flesh is startling: stark white against the deep tan of her legs and back. Her rosy-red nipples crinkled to pebbles when a waft of cool air hit her chest. The water was just too hot for her to slip in comfortably. She took it in stages before she was finally stretched out. I pulled her hair over one shoulder and laid over the shallow hump of her right breast, then put a folded towel behind her neck. She laid completely relaxed, with her eyes closed and her head perched on the edge of the tub. The water rose to her chin. Three small triangles showed white against her tan, one each centered on the shallow humps of her breasts and the last bisecting her mound, barely reaching the top of her puss. Her nipples are naturally large berries centered in half-dollar sized rose areolae. When she was settled, I put a few of my CD's in her changer and listened for a moment as Mr. Davis eased into "A Touch of Blue". Then the towels went into the dryer to warm, and I changed the sheets on her bed. By the time I got back to the bathroom, Bethany was half asleep. I rinsed a washcloth in cold water, and dabbed the sweat from her brow. Then helped her drink a glassful. Last, I turned on a trickle of hot water, and spent an hour ministering to her while she floated there, relaxing. When last note of that magic trumpet trilled away, the music switched to classic Van Morrison. "Moondance" came on as I knelt down behind her and washed her hair twice and massaged conditioner into her scalp gently. I dried her hair, brushing it until it shone. Then I retrieved the towels, shut off the water, then pulled the plug. She could barely stand, but I got her to her feet, then dried her with the still-warm towels. She made to step shakily from the tub, but I wrapped her in a fresh towel and scooped her up in my arms. She put her arms around my neck and rested her head on my shoulder as I carried her to her bed. I wrapped her in her comforter and left her for a moment to take care of my own ablutions, and to gather her razor, shaving cream and a bowl of hot water. She woke up a bit as I spread her thighs and shaved the faint dusting of fine blond hairs from her puss but didn't say anything. She just gave me a dreamy smile, then closed her eyes again and relaxed to the blade. I gently wiped the remnants away, then smoothed aloe lotion into the skin. Her puss was wet by that time, the lips fat, crinkled and shiny. But she needed sleep more than sex. The afternoon sun was low by that time. I cracked the window, closed the curtains, then slipped out of my boxers and into her bed. I fluffed a couple of pillows against the headboard, then laid back and gathered her into my arms. She roused enough to kiss my cheek, then closed her eyes, laid her head on my shoulder and was zonked in about 30 seconds. It took me a few minutes longer, but listening to her breath helped. The last thing I remember was hearing the closing bars of "Into the Mystic". The first thing I remember the next morning was a set of lips tugging gently at the tip of my cock. Mr Snake was still sleepy too, but woke up faster than the rest of me. Mr Snake is usually faster than my brain. I glanced at the clock and was shocked to see that we'd been asleep for ten hours. Now, I knew that Bethany had needed it, but I never sleep that long. Maybe the relaxation ritual had affected me too. Anyway, I looked down and saw a large hump moving under the comforter, and felt a set of warm, wet lips sliding down the head of my dick. An agile tongue slithered along behind, teasing my glans and coaxing Mr Snake's head from beneath my foreskin. He never needs much coaxing. Those marvelous lips took as much time caressing my cock as I had washing Bethany's hair the night before. It is one of my all-time favorite blowjobs. She took me deep, swallowing the head. The muscles of her throat massaged the glans while her tongue danced along the shaft. She held it down until I though she'd suffocate, then pull back long enough to take a couple of breaths, then down she went, driving the head of my cock deep into her throat again. Bethany must have swallowed my cock like that for 20 minutes, all the while caressing my sac and running her fingernails lightly along my thighs. She was expert at taking me to the edge of orgasm, then easing me back, before taking me to the edge once more. Bethany played me like she'd play the wind on a wave: up and down, back and forth, in and out. My job was to lay there and let it happen. Finally she pulled back far enough that she could wrap her fist around the base of the shaft and began stroking me, milking my cock. Again, I let it happen. I laid there totally passive, just as she wanted me. There was no urgency on my part. I didn't feel the need to thrust. The muffled sounds of her wet mouth sucking, and the sensation of her lips pulling at the sensitive glans, along with her fist tight around my throbbing shaft soon brought her reward. I've never been so completely relaxed when my orgasm hit. It felt as though she flipped a hidden switch and my balls suddenly let loose. I groaned with each pulse as my cum surged up through the shaft to erupt in thick jets. She caught every one. I could feel her throat working as she swallowed each down, eager, no hungry to take every drop. When she'd sucked the last of my cum from the end of my dick, she pulled back and began licking the remnants from the softening shaft. She covered every inch of my cock with her tongue, then spent a few moments licking and kissing my sac before slipping up and peering out from under the comforter with a mischievous grin. I took one look and knew that my pal was all better. The sparkle was back in her eyes and dimples dotted her cheeks again. She looked at me for a second, kissed my belly quickly then said "Now I've really got to pee!". I laughed out loud as she jumped up and ran to the bathroom, her bare asscheeks flashing in the dim light. While I took my turn, she put on fresh ground coffee and hopped back into bed. When I came back, I lifted the comforter to slide in. Bethany's nipples crinkled, standing tall and jutting from the small white humps of her bare breasts in the cool air wafting from the curtains. I love to play with Bethany's nipples. I crawled between her thighs and rested my belly on her mound. She ran her fingers through my hair as I spent some time licking those bursting knobs. As I played, nibbling and kissing, we talked easily. She thanked me for taking care of her like that. She said that it had made her feel sort of special. I told her that she was special. Then, I nipped one, not hurting, but making her jump. She let out a mew, than playfully slapped my back. She giggled then told me that always sent a tingle straight to her clit, and if I wasn't careful, she'd get my bellybutton all wet. I captured her other nipple in my teeth, and smiled up into her eyes. She looked down and her eyes widened. She started to so "No! Don't you dare!", but only got the "N…!" out before my teeth closed again. Her body jumped again, higher than before. Her head rolled back as she let out a moan. She shivered and I felt her juices gathering along the lips of her sex, pressed against my stomach. Then she slapped my back again and told me that I was naughty. Time out. I may not have told you. Bethany has sensitive nipples. Very sensitive. After her clit, her nipples are the most sensitive erogenous zones that she has. Time in. I said "Yeah, so?" then began sucking at those juicy buds. Her neck arched back. She moaned tremulously and buried her fingers in my hair, gripping my head and holding my face to her chest. Whichever nipple was not in my mouth, I had my fingers tweaking. She wrapped her long legs around my flanks and crossed her ankles behind my back. Soon she was squirming beneath me, rubbing her bare, and by this time very wet pussy against my belly. I played with her for a while, then began working my lips down her belly. My fingers never left her nipples as I kissed, nipped and sucked at her taut flesh. She shuddered now and again, when I touched a particularly sensitive spot, or tweaked a nipple just right. She began whispering to me, urging me on, anticipating each move, but still surprised when it came. I was teasing her along the edge of orgasm, and she was eating it up. Her ankles uncrossed as I slid down farther. Her thighs opened wide, allowing access, then offering her center for my lips and tongue. Her fingers were still entwined in my hair, but loosely now. I was in charge of pleasuring her and she knew it. She only held on out of need, not to direct. Her breath caught suddenly as I traced my tongue along the hollow of her right hip, tasting the salt of her desire in the crease. As my tongue ran along, she moaned and the fragrance of her passion wafted from her sex. I played there, circling her bare pussy for a while, teasing, without touching. As my lips met her heated flesh below, my fingers yet stroked and tweaked her bursting nipples, now grown achingly erect beneath the play of my fingers. Bethany was squirming beneath me, pleading between whimpers of desire and need before I took pity and finally ran the tip of my tongue into the divide of her pussy. As my tongue traced along the tangy crease, she groaned and her entire body jumped. Her fingers stiffened again for an instant, balling in my hair, then she released her grip on my hair and grasped handfuls of the sheets to either side, twisting and tearing at the fabric. I paused long enough to tell her to tweak her nipples, then lifted her legs high and rested her thighs on my shoulders. Her moans took on new urgency as she began caressing her breasts and pulling gently at her own nipples. Her knees bent and her curled toes pressed into my back as I claimed her center with my mouth. My hands gripped her asscheeks, holding her in place. My lips and tongue were everywhere there: along the soft flesh of her sex, delving into the acrid slit; tracing along the bit of sensitive flesh between her pussy and the wrinkled pink kiss of her anus; even around that orifice then suddenly stabbing in. Again Bethany's body spasmed, this time lifting from the bed as the tip of my tongue invaded her most private place. "Ohgodohgodohgodohgod…" she cried as she writhed in my grasp. I gave her no respite, but stabbed in again, eliciting yet another immense shudder. Then I traced the crease of her thigh up with my tongue, pausing often to nip at the soft flesh quivering there. Once more I was centered on her bare slit. Bethany was ready, hanging on the edge and begging with soft whispers as I stabbed through her tight entry and gathered her juices, then pulled out quickly and lashed at her clit. Her belly muscles clenched fearfully as my tongue swirled around her swollen pearl. Her balled fists tore at the sheets and her head whipped back and forth on the pillow as my tongue strummed her clit. She was teetering on the brink, when I wrapped my lips around the base of her clit, gripped the swollen node lightly with my teeth and began flaying it with the tip of my tongue. One quick swipe, and she was launched. Bethany wailed unheeding as her vast orgasm claimed her completely. She bucked against my face, then bucked again and wailed anew as my teeth lightly scraped her clit as they lost grip. I thrust my tongue into the entry of her vagina, fucking her with it as she came. Her juices flowed from her slit, bathing my lips and chin as she convulsed. Before she could come down, I lashed her clit once more, sending her high again as another orgasm surged through her tightly strung body. Her toes curled, digging into my back, straining as she came. Urgent pleas whispered between abject moans until I took pity and slowly brought her back with tender kisses upon the heated flesh of her thighs, belly and bare mound. Finally as she quieted, I bussed her pussylips with little kisses all around her slit. Her breath came in gasps, but her racing heart began to slow as she lay limply, lost for a time in the afterglow. I lifted my torso from the bed and allowed her legs to straighten to either side before slipping from between her thighs. I wiped my face with the loose sheet, then laid stretched out beside her as she lay sprawled bonelessly upon the bed. Eyes closed, her chest rose and fell with her breaths, slowing as I watched. Her turgid nipples began to soften. After a few minutes, she took a huge breath and stretched, limbs curling and straining. Then she went limp again. Her eyes opened and she glanced up at me with a dreamy expression. "That was wonderful!" she sighed, then reached up to pull my head down for a kiss. She tasted herself on my lips. When I pulled back, she looked up with an impish grin, smacked her lips and said "Ooh, I'm yummy!", then pushed me onto my back, pulled the comforter over us, and snuggled down against my chest. I agreed as I hugged her to me. We lay there relaxing for a bit. Talking or not as the minutes passed. Easy with each other. She snuggled close, as I tend to be warm and she was still damp in spots. Her lithe body molded to mine as she lay half-turned, her thigh resting across my belly and her foot entwined between my legs. Eventually my nose caught the scent of coffee wafting in from the kitchen, so I slipped from the bed and filled two mugs. Bethany takes sugar substitute, heavy on the cream, while I like just a touch of cream in mine. She sat up and took her mug greedily, wrapped in the comforter. I slipped the sheet over me and leaned on a pillow propped against the headboard. Kona! Good coffee! Bethany sipped hers pensively for a minute, then looked up with twinkling eyes. She told me that she didn't want to make my head swell any more than it already was, but she had to tell me that I had a seriously buff body. I thanked her for her prejudiced opinion. She laughed, then said that she knew a couple of young teaching assistants, Grad students like herself, that would cream their panties if they saw me walk through their bedroom doors naked. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 2 I answered that I had a couple of teachers who would have had they been wearing panties when I did walk through their bedroom doors naked. As it was, they just got creamy. Bethany's eyes got big, then she burst out laughing. I don't think she believed me. We sipped our coffee, gabbing for a while. Then she went for refills, of course with the comforter wrapped around her shoulders. When she came back with a mug in either hand, I took the mugs while she spread the comforter across the bed. Then hopped in, propped herself against my shoulder, and accepted hers back. We gabbed for a while as we finished our coffee. I kept the conversation light. The topics did not include anything to do with her work, which was deliberate on my part. Mostly I listened Time out. There's another secret I'll share with you: learn to listen. Most guys spend way too much time talking about themselves, and far too little time listening to the woman talk about herself. Try listening for a change. You'll be amazed how intelligent and attractive she finds you, when you keep your mouth shut for a while. At the right moment of course. Time in. Bethany was back to her old self: her mind running in fifty different directions at once: Movies, books, politics – national, regional, local and those at the university – but mostly gossip. She has the inside scoop on a lot of things. She finished her coffee and snuggled down against me again as she told me the latest rumors. The word around the campus was that the Chancellor was boinking a certain Visiting Professor. Better yet, the Professor is twenty years younger than the Chancellor. Better than that, she had once been one of his students. Still better yet, while Chancellor was out getting a piece of strange pussy with the Professor, the Chancellor's wife also had something going on the side. Better than that was that the 'something' was her 27-year-old tennis instructor. Best of all, the instructor was female. Somebody named Mandy or Sandy or something like that. That woke Mr Snake from his nap. Time out. Remember Sandi? She's one of my 'sisters', Margot's former partner. I wasn't completely certain, but how many Tennis instructors by the name of "Sandy or Mandy" could there be? Now I knew the identity of her new love, the older woman. No wonder she kept the relationship close to her chest. I made a mental note to have a chat with her soon. I wanted her to know that the rumors were flying. It wasn't my business, but I'd hated to see her get blind-sided. We had that conversation not long afterwards. My guesses were on the money. She swore me to secrecy. The rumors started to die down shortly thereafter. But I don't think the affair is over. Sandi looked like she was in love when I talked to her Time in. Like I said, Mr Snake was sniffing again. He rolled over and brushed Bethany's leg. She looked up at me and grinned as she grabbed hold of him. Yep, he was definitely awake now. Bethany stopped talking and reached up with her free hand to pull my head down for a kiss. While our lips met, her other hand ran up and down my shaft, stroking me to full stand. Her cupped fingers slid my foreskin back. The head of my dick surged upward, swollen fat and ready. While Bethany played with my cock, I began caressing her breasts and teasing her nipples. Soon the play of my fingers tweaking caused her nipples to ripen, bursting forth from her chest. I could feel her crinkled buds throbbing with the beat of her heart. Bethany broke from the kiss, and pushed me back against the pillow. She threw the comforter back then straddled me, taking my erection in her hand. Her pussy was wet with her juices. She ran the head of my dick along the divide of her sex, teasing herself. When the nut was thoroughly lubricated, she rose to her knees and planted it within the tight entry of her vagina. With a convulsive shudder, she rammed her body down, driving my shaft deep. In one push, she'd taken a good six inches within her puss. Her breath hissed from her pursed lips, and her eyes grew wide with almost pain as my shaft stretched her vagina. She held herself there, impaled upon my cock for a few moments, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Then she gave me a crazy grin. I knew what she wanted next. Bethany likes to face me as we fuck. She clutched my shoulders, and I held her little butt steady in my hands as she pulled her legs from beneath her one at a time. She wrapped her long legs around my hips. When she was set, she linked her fingers behind my neck, then leaned back as I settled her onto my cock. As she worked herself up and down on my cock, I began nuzzling her swollen nipples. She arched her neck, raising her chest to my lips. Her eyes closed and gave a shuddering moan as my lips, tongue and teeth began working those sweet berries without pause. Bethany can't take my whole length. I bottom out after about nine inches. This position ensures that neither of us can get carried away. The first time we made it, she climbed on top and got too enthusiastic riding cowgirl, then could barely walk afterwards. A woman's cervix can't take a whole lot of abuse. This position also has the benefit of giving me great access to her body. It also allows me to control the timing. I can make it go as fast or slow as I want. This time, I wanted slow. We must have fucked for a half-hour before I sensed her need to cum. We were both ready. I grinned at her, and she knew it was coming. Her eyes grew wide, then she grinned that crazy grin at me again. As she rolled her hips, fucking herself on my cock, I steadied her butt with one hand and began stroking her clit with the other. Bethany adores that. Between my fingers tweaking her nipples and petting her clit while she fucked herself on my dick, Bethany was soon teetering on the edge of orgasm. Suddenly she let out a wail and began rocking her hips frantically. Shudders rippled through her slender body as she came, then again. When she was lost in the second orgasm, I cupped her skinny asscheeks in my hands and began pumping. The sight of her making it carried me over the top too. She loves the feeling of my hands gripping her buttcheeks, pulling her onto my cock as I pump into her pussy. Her third orgasm coincided with mine. I let out a bellow of my own as the cum jetted from my cock to splash against the walls of her vagina. She jammed herself down, holding me deep inside and wailed as she felt my cock pulse with cum. Bethany strained against me for an eternity before she released her grip on my neck. She fell back between my legs with my cock still buried in her puss and her legs still locked around my hips. I squeezed her asscheeks as she laid there gasping. I went as limp as she, leaning back against the headboard, and catching my breath. She looked up at me with dreamy eyes. Her chest was heaving, and she was all sweaty and shiny from good sex. She smiled then said softly, "I just figured it out… I know what's wrong with the code…" Yep. My pal was all better. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms Anxi Oolong – an exotic blend of tea from the Anxi district of the Fukien province of China Bee-sting (breasts) – Shallow bumps like the swollen flesh surrounding a bee sting or an insect bite. Buss(ed) – kiss; kissed. Code – the basic machine 'language' used to write instructions for a computer; not to be confused with 'Basic', which is a programming language. Double-A (cup) – the smallest bra cup size available for a woman; also known as 'Almost A' cup. Gorge (The) – The Columbia River out of Hood River Oregon USA, the Windsurfing Capitol of the World; if you windsurf, you know of The Gorge. Jameson's – the premier Irish whiskey. Mr Davis – Miles Davis, THE premier jazz trumpeteer; "A Touch of Blue" is the title tune on his signature album (series of recordings). Sac – scrotum. Six-pack (gut) – well-developed abdominal muscles; when toned to a certain point, the muscles form a series of ridges beneath the skin which resemble a double row of soda or beer cans – a six-pack. Strange (pussy) – If married or otherwise attached, a sexual partner other than one's mate or significant other. Supreme pizza – the ultimate brain-food for computer techies and hackers: a pizza with everything, including anchovies; with extra pepperoni, if the problem to be solved is particularly difficult. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 3 This is the sixth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter III, Interlude III, Chelsea. The typeface is Verdana, the body text is 12pt. I wrote the work using Optima, 9pt. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Here we meet our hero's newest girlfriend, Chelsea. For once, James' only intention is to take a girl to dinner and a movie; he has no expectations of sex… Okay, so that's his expectations. Chelsea has a different plan in mind… …one that involves Mr Snake and a paddle – not necessarily in that order… Hang on. Our hero is at it again: cool moves & hot sex, with a bit of a surprise at the end… Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mrs. Hart's Ache III The Ladies in My Life (cont.) "…Mowed the lawn. Bought a new computer. Saw a movie with Chelsea. Did her too…" Interlude III: Chelsea Next up: a new acquaintance, Chelsea. Maybe I should say, 'Next down'… Ya think…? Maybe… I'll let you decide. I hadn't planned to do Chelsea that night. It sorta just worked out that way. It's not often that I'm caught out like that but… What the hell, these thing happen, right? Besides, Mr Snake is always prepared. I met Chelsea through mom, of all people: she and Chelsea work together at the hospital. Mom was the Recovery Room Charge Nurse that day. Chelsea's a freshly-graduated RN working floats at the hospital, on orientation. I stopped by to drop off mom's cellphone. She'd left it on the kitchen island charging one morning. Dad doesn't like her to be without it, just in case. He asked me to run it to her while I was out that day. Mom was with a patient as usual. Chelsea was manning the Nurse's station, talking on the phone and taking notes on a chart when I walked up. She had her back to me, so I took the opportunity to check her out a bit before she noticed me. Time out. Hey, it's a guy thing, ya know? Though I would bet my trust fund that girls do the same thing when a guy's not looking. Time in. It's hard to do, but she makes a set of scrubs look good. Way good. Maybe nineteen or twenty. (I found out later she's twenty-three!) Totally phat little body. And I do mean, 'little'. She looked to be about mom's size. Five foot plus a pinch, (5'-2" actually), and maybe 100 pounds (102 by the hospital scales). No rings on her fingers. Hhmmm. She looked even better when she turned around: Nice tan. Sky-blue eyes and baby-fine, long, white-blonde hair done up. Cute little nose. Tight little bubble butt. Very nice chest. And a sweet mouth with cupid lips made for… kissing. I glanced at her nametag – 'Chelsea Court, RN' – then back to her face. Her eyes widened a fraction when she caught sight of me standing there. Still listening to the telephone, her eyes dropped to the chart, a flush creeping up her face. She fumbled with her pen, then asked that the caller repeat what he'd said. Her blush deepened, whether from the response or from my presence I couldn't say. She finished the conversation hurriedly, then replaced the receiver, still making notes. Finally, she looked up and asked if she could help me with a little tremor in her voice. I couldn't resist. I asked her what she had in mind. Whoa! Her blush deepened from pink to red as her eyes dropped to the chart again. I must admit, I can be an asshole at times, but usually not deliberately and never for long. I was just flirting, hitting on her a little bit. But that girl was too shy to give it back to me. Not that she had any visible reason for being uptight. Chelsea, whether or not she realizes it, is a babe with capital BB's and a nice A. Time out. Here's another pointer for you guys: if you fuck up with a girl, whether or not you understand how you fucked up, apologize – right now! Not many people, particularly women, can resist an apology promptly given. Time in. I gave Chelsea my most sincere apology, then introduced myself. She smiled through her blush, then took my hand briefly while introducing herself. The fact that I was related to mom, a woman that she already liked and respected, apparently helped clear my goof. She told me that mom was with a patient, then talked for a few minutes. She was more relaxed, though obviously shy and still a little nervous. During our conversation, I got the basics of her situation: just graduated; new in the city; originally from a small town in the middle of the state; a bit of a stranger in a strange land. Taking that as a cue, I asked her out. Dinner and a movie: easy and non-threatening. Her eyes sparkled as she said yes, though she was blushing again. I got her address and agreed to be there at six before the telephone rang again. I thought I got the date because she knew mom. About then, the lady herself stepped from a room down the hall. Chelsea turned away to answer the call. Mom had the mom's 'questioning' look until I waggled the cellphone at her. She smiled and gave me a quick hug. I kissed the top of her head, which she hates, but tolerates from me. We talked for a few minutes before she had to answer yet another bell. I waved to Chelsea on the way out. She put her hand to the mouthpiece and said, "See you at six." I arrived a couple minutes early, but she was ready. I got nothing more than a glance at the Living Room of her little apartment before we were out the door together. The blush was evident again, but also a certain sparkle in her blue eyes. I'd dressed casually: dark chino's and a white CD shirt rolled up to the forearm; boat shoes with no socks. Chelsea, on the other hand, had dressed up a little: about twelve inches of off-white corduroy miniskirt that sat low on her hips and displayed a lot of leg; a navy cami top that showed excellent cleavage and left her belly bare (innie; no bellyring; girl padding; even tan); sheer dark hose and 3" heels. For jewelry, a simple silver chain necklace with a big silver cross pendant. Still no rings. Casual, on the verge of dressy, but definitely putting on a sweet show. For me, I guess. Her blond hair was gathered in a series of colored scrunchies starting at the nape of her neck, running halfway down her back, then flowed loose from there, down past her butt. She cannot have had it cut. Ever. Down, it reached mid- thigh. She is small, but that is long hair. All in all, she looked good enough to eat, never mind the Italian I had planned. Chelsea fit ever so nicely in the Miata. She showed those trim legs again, plus a bit of smooth thigh, as I handed her in the seat. She tucked the ends of her hair beneath her bottom and belted herself in. "Come Away with Me" crooned from the speakers as we motored away, top down. The evening was warm. Cappatti's is the best Italian restaurant in town. Not the most expensive or exclusive. Simply the place with the best food. We shared a plate of antipasta and a bowl of insalata, before the entrées. She had Chicken Castellini while I did the Mixed Grill. Mine was excellent. I expect that hers was too, though she seemed to hesitate, bowing her head before eating. Curious. The conversation was light and easy, once I got Chelsea to relax. The wine helped. My favorite waiter, Alberto, served and brought Chelsea a fine Pinot Noir while I enjoyed a exceptional local Merlot. Alberto takes care of me. I take care of Alberto. Mama Cappatti stopped by our table. Her eldest grandson is a homey. She shook her finger at me, but smiled. She knows that I only have one glass. Besides, she believes that one can't truly enjoy her menu without having a glass of fine wine with dinner. She and Chelsea seemed to hit it off, though Mama would like to get me connected to one of her granddaughters. Been there; done that. A couple of times. Nice girls. Phat boobs. Sweet pussies. Time out. What Mama doesn't know won't hurt her. It might hurt me though. Here's hoping that Mama doesn't find out. Time in. Dining and conversation took a bit longer than I'd planned so we had to hurry to make the movie, a routine action flick. Two hours later, Chelsea and I were in the Miata, on our way back to her apartment. She thanked me for the evening a couple of times during the ride. Now I swear: I had only planned to take her to dinner and see a movie. Sometimes it's better to go slow, and Chelsea looked to be high maintenance. Like the kind of girl that would require a commitment of some kind before her panties came down. And we all know that I'm not at all ready to commit to anyone… …not yet anyway. But when I showed her to her door and made ready to take off, she came close to begging me to come in. "Please James," Chelsea said, her hand on my arm. "Come in with me for a few minutes. I have a bottle of wine all ready for us. Have one glass with me, please." What could I do? I let her pull me inside. Her face was pink with pleasure. "Thanks for coming in with me. I haven't met many people since I moved here," she continued. "There's one kinda creepy guy down the hall that keeps hitting on me. I didn't feel like being alone yet tonight. He's always watching for me, and I think I saw his blinds move when we were walking to the door." She flipped on the CD Player as she passed, still talking. Sting's latest. We moved into the kitchenette to open the bottle of Pinot Noir, just gabbing easily about the movie. I pulled the cork on the wine while Chelsea produced a couple of stemmed glasses. After I poured, she excused herself. "Make yourself comfortable…" she said as she scurried up the stairs, her voice trailing off, "…I'll be down in a minute. I want to talk to you about something." I heard a door click shut. I stood in the center of her Living Room sipping the wine and casually glancing around. Nice apartment. The furnishings looked to be new. The usual entertainment center with a 36" TV, DVD and CD players, and surround sound speakers sat in front of the bay window, dominating the room. A fifty gallon saltwater fish tank with maybe five large fish, an anemone and some live coral stood atop a stand against one wall. Built-in bookshelves filled with hardcover books and a few knickknacks ran up the wall to either side of the window. Framed paintings, etchings and posters filled the remaining wall, from the chairs and end tables up into the gabled ceiling. Some of the artwork was original. Very nice stuff. Not necessarily expensive, but certainly tasteful. My kind of taste. Though a few magazines were fanned artfully across the coffee table, from what I could see, the apartment and its furnishings were spotless. My kind of place. Wineglass in hand, I began perusing Chelsea's bookshelves. Gray's Anatomy… a few theology texts… quite a few nursing textbooks… Laurell Hamilton... (love that Anita Blake… what's with that Richard anyway…?) organic chemistry… a couple of history books… Laurie King… (Mary, Mary quite contrary… can't keep Sherlock down…) a biography of Fonteyn… another of Jefferson… Dickens… a large bible… (huh!) Harry Potter (of course…!) Photography… Art and art history… (Steve Hanks… that guy does love women…!) Hillary's book… a Catholic catechism… (now that's interesting…!) The Joy of Sex… (talk about an eclectic collection of books…) My browsing was interrupted by a presence and the whisper of silk at the stairs. I glanced over and was stunned by a vision. Little Chelsea was leaning on the banister with a sheer black robe draped across her shoulders. Beneath the thigh-length robe she wore a black demibra, black lace panties and dark stockings. The sheer bra emphasized her cleavage and did nothing to hide her swollen nipples. Her stockings were holdups with wide lace bands about her slender thighs. Clear Lucite mules with 4" heels completed the outfit. Very nice tits. For a small lady, Chelsea had a fine set of balangas: full cones of girl-tight flesh set high on her chest capped with large pink points. 34C, maybe 32D. Big bumpers for such a small woman. The bra was for show. She didn't need it. Her tits are firm. Nice show. Wineglass in hand, Chelsea stood with one knee bent, posing for me. She peered up at me through demurely lowered eyelids, then slowly shifted, swinging her leg aside. What I had taken at first glance to be lace panties was actually a v-string with a wide band of black stretch lace riding low on her curved hips. So much for the waistband. The business end of the v-string were nothing more than a single strand of white pearls stretching down from the center, over her mons and clit, then disappearing into the folds of her bare vulva. From my vantage, her pussylips appeared to be plucked smooth. Some panties! Not very functional, but guaranteed to keep a girl on the edge. And get a guy hard in about two seconds. I stared at her for a moment, too surprised to speak. She flushed, red down to the tops of her breasts, then spoke. "James… I'm sorry…" she began in a small voice. "…but I haven't had sex for six months…" "I need t-to get f-fucked…" (She stumbled over the words) "…or I'm gonna go completely nuts." She looked at me almost embarrassed beyond words, but took a deep breath then went on gamely while moving toward me, her white-blond hair loose and flowing, wisps floating behind. "Can you help me…?" She pleaded. "If you don't I'm afraid I'll have to let that creepy guy next door do me…" She finished standing beside me, her hand on my arm, looking up with those blue eyes wide and pleading. Chelsea's scent was enough to bring Mr Snake to attention, never mind the view. Mr Snake had been shocked to insensibility too, but he always recovers fast. Usually before my brain. This time was no exception. He was standing tall before I'd lost the dumbfounded look. Oh shit! Any caution I'd had was flying out the window along with my good intentions. Jesus, she was hot! But before Mr Snake took over and I lost complete control, I had to set some ground rules. I took her glass and set both on the bookshelf beside. "Chelsea, my sweet, you must have read my mind." I said as a pulled her into my arms. "But you've got to understand one thing," I continued as I massaged her back, looking her in the eyes. "We can fuck each other, if that's what you want, but this doesn't mean that we're committing to anything. We can be friends, but I'm not ready to settle down quite yet. Okay?" She smiled up at me, yet another blush coloring her face. "Okay." She said softly, kissing my chin. "I'm not looking for the man of my dreams here…" Her hand brushed the bulge in my pants. "…I'm just looking for a little relief." Then she slipped into my arms, molding her body to mine. She slid her arms up around my neck and lifted up on tiptoes, seeking. I cupped the back of her head gently. Her lips sought mine and we kissed for the first time. For a long time. Ooohh baby! Soft lips. Sweet tongue. She tasted of the wine and something tart. Chelsea massaged my woody with her mons as she flowed against me on tiptoe. A soft moan escaped her throat, more felt than heard as we kissed. I could feel her nipples crinkle through the sheer silk of her bra and the cotton of my shirt. I slipped my hand down her back to her bottom. Gently squeezing the girl-firm cheeks, I pulled her body to mine. Another moan slipped from her mouth, somehow more urgent and needy as her lips worked against mine. She shuddered. I could almost feel the sweet dew gathering along the pouting lips of her sex, seeping. Chelsea broke from the kiss, eyes closed, leaning back slightly. Her eyes opened languidly, as though on drugs. "My goodness, that was good!" She whispered, her soft voice ragged with passion. "Do that again. Please…" I kissed her again, more forcefully. Holding her head, tilted at an angle and lifting her slightly, my hand cupping her ass; letting her feel my strength and my need. The moan was back. Louder. Greedier. Much more urgent. Her arms tightened around my neck, drawing herself up to meet me, rubbing her lips against mine, tongue dancing. Her taut little body writhed desperately against my chest. Dropping my other hand to her butt, I lifted. She wrapped her legs around my waist as my cupped hands slid to her thighs, supporting her. She crossed her ankles behind my back; holding me close; rubbing her plump little pussy against my belly. We held the kiss as I moved toward the couch. Before I could sit, she wriggled out of my grasp, dropping lightly to the floor, panting. She looked up at me with blue eyes gone feral as she pushed me down, then dropped to her knees between my thighs and attacked my belt and zipper. Good thing those pants are rugged. She'd have torn a pair of slacks in her eagerness to get at my cock. Her eyes flashed round, then wild again as Mr Snake made his appearance. "Oooohh my sweet Lord!" Chelsea's exclaimed. "Thank you!" I guess she wasn't expecting that particular size of the erection waving in her face. She seemed thankful though; drooling all over it you might say. She certainly seemed to be happy to see it. Without hesitating, she grasped my wood with a soft hand, laid the head of my dick on her velvet tongue and sucked it into her warm, wet mouth. Mr Snake was in heaven again. Kneeling on the floor at my feet, Chelsea looked up to me with lust in those bright blue eyes as her tongue swirled around the glans, teasing me. Tasting me. Grasping Mr Snake with both hands, she locked eyes with me, almost forcing me to watch as she sucked the nut deep into her sweet mouth, her tongue slithering along the shaft. Lips stretched wide by the meat of my cock, down her head bobbed, then up again, then down. Slowly. Sucking softly. Savoring every inch that she could take within her talented mouth. Her head pulled back, cheeks hollowed sucking until the head of my dick popped out of her mouth. She cupped my nuts gently, then kissed and licked each, her tongue dancing over, around and beneath the sac, watching my face all the while. What she saw there seemed to make her hotter. She attacked my dick again, her tongue slithering up along the shaft, teasing. Releasing my nuts, she pulled my hand to the back of her head, then grasped my dick again with both hands and sucked the head of my cock deep into her mouth again. Chelsea moaned, her lips buzzing around the shaft. I fed her fantasy by burying my fingers in her hair. She wanted me to hold her there, worshiping my cock with her sweet mouth. Her eyes closed as a shudder ran through her little body. I began whispering to her, talking trash: telling her what to do; describing what she was doing. My grip on her blonde hair was tight, my other hand heavy on the back of her head. Chelsea was loving it. Maintaining my grip on her hair, I slipped the other hand down beneath her arm to cup one breast. The fat nipple was pebble hard against my palm. Moaning more deeply, more urgently, she pushed her chest into my hand, her mouth yet working my dick. Her moans became whimpers as I tweaked her crinkled nipples, pulling at the buttons and rolling each in turn between my fingers. As I fondled her breasts and pinched her nipples, her pace quickened. Down, up and down again, faster each time. Taking more and more of my shaft into her mouth with each descent. The nut of my cock touched the back of her throat, but she controlled her gag reflex, her breath whistling through her nose. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 3 Down again and the head of my cock slid into her throat, hesitating for an instant, then up again. A quick breath, then down once more. Her lips brushed her fingers still wrapped around the base of the shaft, then held there for a few moments. Working her throat muscles. Swallowing my dick. My God, she was good. She let me know without speaking that she wanted to swallow my cum. No that's wrong. For some reason, she needed to swallow my cum. I didn't care either way. I just knew that I was going to give it to her. She knew that I was close. She could feel my dick expand, straining against the walls of her throat. With a jerk she pulled back, drew a deep, ragged breath, then released her hold on my shaft, gripped my thighs and jammed her face down on my cock, driving the bursting head deep. Her lips pulled at the short hairs sprouting from the base of my dick. She had it all. I held her there with both hands buried in her hair, pushing her head down on my dick. Roaring obscene nonsense, I came, shooting what felt like buckets of cum down her throat. I swear that she came with me. Five times my Mr Snake pulsed, jetting ropes of cum into her face before I eased my hold and let her pull back. Chelsea swallows. Shivering, on the verge of another climax, Chelsea gasped a deep breath then swallowed once or twice, clearing the cum from her throat. Then she looked up to me again, smiling this time, and began licking the last bubbles of cum from my shaft. I slumped back on the couch and let her. The lady had a rape fantasy on a grand scale. I was caught up in it with her, and had a feeling, watching her lick the cum from my dick, that she wasn't quite through playing it out. Mr Snake better be ready for a wild ride, 'cause she wasn't done. I had to be careful with this one. She had put me in charge, trusting me to take her to the limit. The question was, what was her limit…? She lapped at my dick like a kitten while running her fingertips under my sac, teasing by balls. As she played, she talked a bit of trash herself. "I love this dick of yours, James…" she cooed, "…it's the biggest I've ever had the pleasure of sucking… I love the sensation of it sliding down my throat… And yummy…! You must feed your tasty cum to all your girlfriends… You've got your own special supply of aphrodisiac cookin' in these sperm bags of yours… And I want more… My juicy little pussy is feelin' bad… It's in need of an injection I think… But I want you to take me… Make me… Use me… The thought gets me so hot…!!!" Chelsea's eyes were shining. Lost in her fantasy again, she was trembling, breasts quivering with each word. While she talked, I reached down between her breasts to slip the catch of her bra. Peeling the cups back to either side, I took her tits in hand and began molding the firm young mounds. Tweaking the fat nipples flushed rose-red. Nice gazongas! Chelsea rose straight on her knees, shoulders back throwing her chest out as I massaged her tits. Her throat arched and eyes closed, a groan of pleasure slipped from her trembling lips. "Oh God, James, I love it when you squeeze my breasts…!" She whispered. "Harder… please… it feels so good!" I slipped the robe from her shoulders, taking the bra too. Bare from the waist up, Chelsea was fairly quivering to get fucked. But I thought I'd surprise her with a little improvisation of my own. I had a feeling that it would spice things up for her. And me too. Me and Mr Snake. I grabbed a handful of her hair and roughly pulled her face to mine, driving my tongue deep into her mouth, as I mauled one breast. She stiffened, then slumped against me moaning as I ravaged her lips with demanding kisses. She tasted of herself, with a hint of my maleness. Her arms snaked around my neck, opening her chest to me. "Kiss me girl!" I demanded. "Don't let go until I tell you, or I'll punish you." She whimpered. I released my grip on her hair and reached to her breasts with both hands. Cupping her cones, I squeezed and pulled her to me. Her arms tightened on my neck at the pain lancing through her chest, but she didn't let go. She wanted more. "Aaaaaaahhh! That hurts!!!" She cried through her kisses, eyes shut tight, brow furrowed with pain. "Pick a word." I whispered gently. "A 'safe' word for you. Say that word again, and I'll stop. Until then, you're mine to have and use to my pleasure." "'Saints'…" she moaned without hesitation, her lips brushing mine eagerly. "'Saints' is my 'stop' word… and 'sinners' is the word for 'easy'." Chelsea had played this game before. She knew the rules. "'Saints' then, and 'sinners'… so be it," I agreed, thumbing her rock-like nipples. Her breath caught. I ran one hand down her flat belly, teasing the heated flesh with my fingertips. Chelsea's belly fluttered, abs clenching at the sensation. "Oh! Oh God! Please don't tickle, I beg you…!" She panted breathlessly. "I'm so ticklish… Aaaahh!" She cried out as I smacked the curved cheek of her ass. "Be quiet girl!" I demanded. "I told you to kiss me, not talk… maybe you need a lesson in obedience." Chelsea's eyes popped open. Surprise melted into fear then naked desire. "No please! My poor bottom! You'll hurt me! Don't make me… Please, James… I'll be good, I promise." Okay then: a spanking it would be. But first it was time to get more comfortable. She was dressed – or rather, undressed – perfectly for our game, but I had way too many clothes on. Besides, it's hard for a guy to look good and act the part while shuffling around with his pants down around his ankles. Time to strip down to the basics and prepare for action. "Every word you speak makes your punishment all that more severe, girl." I said sternly. "Now keep quiet. I have better uses for that mouth of yours. But first, remove my clothes" A shudder ran through Chelsea's frame causing her naked breasts to quiver. Time out. Once you figure out what turns a woman on, it's usually easy to keep her on the edge. Chelsea was no exception. The pouting lips of her bare vulva were full and shiny with pussyjuice; her clit puckered, rising from beneath its hood. Time in. She quickly unbuttoned my shirt as I kicked off my shoes. She crept back a bit on her knees, leaving room for me to stand. While I slipped the shirt from my shoulders, she pulled my pants and boxers down. I stepped out of them and stood before her naked. Mr Snake was rising again, right in front of her face. I laid a hand on the back of her head and pulled her to my cock. Chelsea's mouth opened wide, taking the head within again. Warm, sweet, wet and oh so wonderful, her lips and tongue worked my dick. Sucking and nibbling at the glans; working the tip of her tongue into the tube. Marvelous. She laid her palms on my thighs and knelt there sucking and licking my dick, pleasuring me. Her eyes were on my face, watching; trying to gauge the effect she was having on me. I struggled to keep my face blank, to see what effect that would have upon her. It was tough, but I held on, stifling the urge to groan with pleasure. Chelsea is very good at sucking cock. That she apparently couldn't phase me worried her. I could see it in her eyes. She was wondering how it might affect her punishment. God, I'm evil. I let her kneel there working my dick for a while. She became more nervous, less sure of herself, with each passing minute. Good. That was the way I wanted her to feel. Nervous. Antsy. Ready to obey. But she was getting to me too. Her lips and tongue pulling at my cock were heavenly. I held out for a long time, just enjoying the sensation. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. It was getting real tough to hide my pleasure. If I waited any longer, I'd lose it completely and blow another load down her throat. That would never do. Suddenly I pulled her back from my dick. Mr Snake came out of her mouth with a 'pop'. Definitely a mistake. I almost shot off right there. But I held on, suppressing another shudder which I hoped I'd hidden from her. "Wait here." I ordered her. "I'll be right back." Curious but reluctant to challenge me, Chelsea remained kneeling in front of the couch while I stepped into her kitchen. I pulled out a couple of drawers before I found what I wanted. A shiver ran through her little body when she caught sight of what I had in my hand. "Stand up. It's time to see your bedroom. I want to get comfortable. It's also past time for you to be punished." She rose to her feet, but before she could take a step, I grabbed her waist and flipped her over my shoulder. Chelsea squealed when she suddenly found herself head down, folded over my shoulder, staring at my bare ass and the world upside down. I gave her butt a swat. She gasped. "You never learn, do you girl." I said, shaking my head. "I've told you at least three times to keep quiet. I shouldn't have had to tell you more than once. Bad girl. You must really want to get the beautiful little butt of yours spanked." I talked trash to her all the way up the stairs. Upside down, Chelsea wrapped her arms around my chest and held on for dear life, whimpering as she watched the Living Room recede. Through the process of elimination, I found her bedroom. It wasn't that hard. There are only four doors in the hallway at the top of the stairs. The door to a bathroom was open. The small louvered door beside could only be the linen closet. The last two were bedrooms. The door to the right was open. Hers. I took in the furnishings quickly: queen bed, dresser with chair and mirror, chest of drawers and nightstands; a large closet, the length of one wall and the master bathroom. A few framed prints decorated the walls along with a crucifix with a strip of dried palm leaf stuck behind. As with the rest of her apartment, all neat and clean. Time out. Most women are funny about that moment: the first time a stranger – particularly a male stranger intent on having sex – enters her bedroom. That room is her most private place, where she does all sorts of intimate things. She's naked there; she sleeps there; she dresses there; she masturbates there; she has sex there; she is at her most vulnerable there. Guys trust me, having a guy enter a woman's boudoir for the first time is usually a sensitive moment for her. It can lead to all sorts of complications and/or commitments. Beware. Take care. Time in. Without a word, I slipped Chelsea from my shoulder to her feet and took her in my arms. The trip up the stairs had both thrilled and frightened her. Her nipples were popped rosy on her heaving breasts. Wanting and wet before, she was fairly gushing when we kissed there in her bedroom. Finally drawing back, I sat on the edge of her bed, took her hand and pulled her to my side. "Lay yourself over my lap little girl," I said looking up at her sternly. "It's time to pay for your sins." My words had an immediate – and surprising – effect on Chelsea. Her face went pale, then flushed red to her chest. She whimpered as a haunted, hunted look flashed across her face then she threw herself across my lap. She grasped my left leg tightly. Breasts flattened on my thigh, her nipples were hard knots indenting my skin. Her slender back was bare, showing a thin tanline where the string of a bikini bra crossed. A triangle of white bisecting her asscheeks marked the edge of her bikini behind. The pearls of her v-string panties hid nothing. The muscles in her little asscheeks clenched, relaxed, then clenched again, anticipating the spanking to come. Each clench caused the kiss of her little rosehole to pucker beneath that string of pearls. The fat lips of her pussy peeked from between her thighs, shiny wet and flushed with excitement. Time out. Chelsea craved the pain; she craved the humiliation of laying her half-naked body across my lap and submitting to a spanking on her bare ass. It didn't make her a bad person. She wasn't hurting anyone. It was just something she needed. It made her feel good somehow. Judging by the wetness of her pussy, it certainly excited her – fulfilled her – sexually. Something told me that I was going to learn part of the 'why' this scene made her so hot; 'why' she needed it so badly. Time in. I laid my left hand across the middle of her back, holding her loosely in place. Chelsea shivered as I ran my right hand over the curved cheeks of her ass, then down beside the pearls of her v- string to tease the wrinkled kiss of her anus. She kicked out, legs flailing, whimpering denials, but doing nothing more to stop me from playing with her most private entry. Her whimpers changed to moans as she felt my fingers trailing down the furrow of her ass to the puffy lips of her sex, teasing. Touching. Tickling. Chelsea groaned. Her body quivered as a fresh gush of liquid seeped from between those fat lips, wetting my fingers. I traced the divide of her pussy, slipping along the seam of her inner lips. They opened like the petals of a flower, showing the juicy pink of her little quim. Jesus, she smelled good! Chelsea looked back up at me over her shoulder. Her eyes were shiny with lust. And fear. And need. And more lust. She was turning me on as much as I was turning her on. She bit her lip, then closed her eyes, turned back and hung her head, waiting. Her fingers dug into my thigh. I resisted the urge to toss her on the bed and ram my dick deep into her tight little puss. She was so hot. It was hard. Shit, I was hard. Mr Snake was a solid bar, stiff against her belly. Without warning I gave her asscheeks a smack with my bare hand. Chelsea's head jerked up. "Oooohh God!" she breathed. "Oh God, you're spanking me! "Spank me again. Spank me harder! I deserve to be punished." Smack! Smack! Smack!… Alternating between her rubbery cheeks, I spanked her until her butt was rosy red. I paused when my hand was stinging about as much as her rump. Halfway through the ordeal, she began to sob. Her legs windmilled with each slap. Mr Snake was throbbing against her belly. Her little pussy was drenched. But I wasn't through. Not by a long shot. I wanted her to surrender completely; to force her to capitulate, and beg me to fuck her. I figured that that was part of her fantasy. It was time to humiliate her a bit more. Her panties didn't hide a whole lot of her charms. But there's nothing much more embarrassing to a girl in that situation than having her panties pulled down to her thighs, denuding her nether regions completely. I figured that the sensation of her v-string pulled down, wrapped around her thighs and restricting her movements, would make Chelsea all that more hot. I knew that I would be. I was right. On both counts. "Ooohh no!!! No!!!" Chelsea sobbed as her panties came down. "Don't strip me naked! Oh, you're looking at me! You can see everything! I'm so ashamed! Don't look at me, please!" To add to her embarrassment, I began caressing her asscheeks and stroking the lips of her sex. "You're such a naughty little girl." I whispered in her ear. "So wet… So nasty… You're making me hard… You should be punished… Such a nasty girl…" Chelsea began pumping her ass, rubbing her vulva against my fingers; whimpering as she pleasured herself. I laid a stinging smack across her asscheeks. That took her to the edge of orgasm. "Bad girl… Nasty girl… What are you doing there…? Oh you really do need to be spanked…" I picked up the metal spatula that I'd taken from her kitchen. Getting a firm grip on her neck, I held her down and let her have it. Smack!! Smack!! Smack!! Smack!! Smack!!… Chelsea was dancing on my lap; surging up with every stroke; wailing. "Oh!! Oh!! Oh!!" She cried as the strokes fell on her naked bottom. "P-please! P-please! P- please!!!…" Only my hand on her neck kept her from rolling off my lap. Her legs flailed wildly, kicking and waving. The mules flew off her feet to bang against the wall. Scarlet imprints of the spatula covered her asscheeks before she finally surrendered. "Oh p-please J-james!… T-take me… F-fuck me now!!…" When I released my hold on her neck, Chelsea scrambled onto the bed. She crouched there, head down, the side of her face pressed the mattress, with her glowing red ass thrust high, offering herself to me. She stuffed a folded pillow beneath her belly and spread her knees wide. Tear-tracks lined her cheeks, but her eyes were feral again. "Take me!" She demanded, panting. "Fuck me!… I need your cock in me now!… Now!… Please!… Fuck me James!" Before she could finish her pleas, I was kneeling on the bed behind her body, her slim hips clutched in my grasping hands; heedless of the welts lining her bare asscheeks. With one thrust Mr Snake was buried to the hairs in her juicy cunt. "Ooooooohhhh Godddd!!!!" She wailed, warbling high notes with each word. "Ooooohhh Jesus!! You're sooooo biiiigggg!!! Give it to me James…!!! Fuck me!!! Fuck me you bastard…!!!" I pulled back quickly, then rammed my dick in again. Chelsea cried out once more with a muted shriek as an orgasm rippled through her belly. Inarticulate sounds without words flew from her lips, echoing the vast passion displayed by her body. Mr Snake jackhammered her pussy. His head kissed her cervix with each stroke. It had to hurt, but she demanded more: wriggling her ass, grinding her pussylips against the base of my cock and pulling me in with hands clutching my thighs. Her clawed fingers dug into my skin, her fingernails leaving dents as another orgasm ravaged her small body. She wailed. I pounded Chelsea's body. A demented machine. Fast. Furious. Relentless. With her begging for more. Sweat flew from our bodies. Both of us were lost in our base pleasure, heeding nothing but the most primitive of instincts. As she peaked a third time, I soared with her. She wailed. I roared. We climaxed together. My nuts clamped as my strength surged, pulling her butt to me. Her bruised asscheeks flattened against my loins, driving the head of my prick against the mouth of her cervix as the cum jetted out, splashing against and through the entry to her womb. We held there at the apex, straining against each other. Her ass flexed, pumping against my grip – almost sucking the cum from Mr Snake – until with a last shivering moan, our strength failed us. Totally spent, we collapsed together, my naked body folded over hers. We crouched there for an age, spooned together bonelessly. Gasping. Boinking sweaty. Lost in the high brought on by such gloriously brutal sex. After a few minutes, we came aware again. Our breathing had finally slowed. Neither of us wanted to move. I'm certain that I didn't. But she had to be uncomfortable, what with my weight heavy on her back. Mr Snake was snoozin' but still firmly ensconced in her tight puss. I shifted my ass back a few inches and he slithered out. Unfortunately, along with Mr Snake came a huge vart from Chelsea's pussy. As I fell to one side, our eyes met. She blushed purple for a heartbeat, then we both began giggling uncontrollably. More varts followed. We couldn't stop laughing. Oh well, that's what you get when you pump fast and deep. We were laughing so hard, we were crying. She finally pounced on my chest and began shaking me. "Stop laughing at me you shit!" Chelsea demanded still giggling. "It's all your fault. You and that monster dick of yours. You two are completely disgusting." She varted again. We both howled. Chelsea buried her flaming face in my chest. We laughed until it hurt. Finally controlling myself I answered. "Me! I'm not the one making those disgusting noises." I said as I pulled her body down to my chest. I cupped the back of her head and guided her lips to mine. Soft lips. Great kiss. Then another. When we came up for air, I continued. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 3 "Since neither of us could possibly be making such disgusting noises, you must have a big cat beneath your bed. 'Cause those sure sounded like pussy farts to me." Chelsea reared back and slapped my chest. "You are a complete shit, James!" She bent down to kiss the red handprint she'd left. "It's a good thing that you're also a complete stud," she continued softly as she ran her tongue along my jaw "otherwise I'd have to kick your gorgeous young ass out of my bed." Chelsea slipped her panties down her legs and off. Gathered in a ball, she awkwardly sidearmed the panties toward the bathroom door, then straddled my torso and laid her forearms to either side of my head. Looking down at me with a grin she arched her back and began rubbing her bare breasts over my chest. I pulled her head down for another kiss. Soft lips. Great tongue. Her nipples got hard. Mr Snake rolled over. Must be native talent. Great kisses! Betcha they'd make your dick hard! Time out. Another clue guys: it ain't over when you shoot. Spend some time romancing the lady after you've had sex. Believe me, it's as important to her after sex as it is before. You've heard of foreplay, right? Try postplay too. Dividends guys. Di-vi-dends. Trust me. If nothing else, she'll brag to her friends about you. That kind of reputation, you want. Definitely. Besides, it's fun. Time in. We kissed, touched and talked for quite a while. I had her stretch out over me with her legs trailing between mine. She grabbed a pillow and laid a corner on my chest. I grabbed another to stuff behind my head. I ran my fingers through her hair, then pulled the mass of it to one side. Jeez it is long. More kissing; touching; talking. Occasionally I'd pull her head down for a thorough kiss. Chelsea likes to be kissed on her neck behind her jaw, just below her ear. Little bit of tongue. Gives her shivers. Makes her nipples crinkle. Gets her wet. I'm patient, but I was also curious. I took an oblique approach though. After a while, I asked her how her butt felt. Suave of me, huh?! "Like a someone spanked it hard, a long time, with a piece of springy metal." She answered softly. Gentle, despite the harsh words spoken. "But that's okay. I don't get much of a chance to sit at work anyway. Besides, I asked for it." She shifted the pillow across my chest, under her breasts and laid her chin on her folded arms. She peered down at me, her eyes soft. "I did ask for it," she repeated. "I wanted it. You were perfect, and you know it. It's been a long dry spell for me." She shifted up a bit, raising herself on her forearms. "Look. You may have noticed. I'm basically pretty shy… No, let's be honest: I'm extremely shy. It's very difficult for me to approach men. I have little experience in it. That shows... You know it. You saw it when we met…" She cocked her head with yet another blush creeping across her cheeks. "I heard about you from… well, from one of the other nurses. I talked to your mom too. Don't let your head swell, but you have an amazing reputation for a young guy. Between that reputation and my need for some sex, I had to get over being shy and get you to ask me out. I had to." Chelsea looked at me closely to see if I had understood. What she saw in my face must have reassured her. She went on: "Thank God you looked beyond my fumbling and asked me out tonight. I really wanted you to, ya know? I was terrified that I'd blown it at first. Then you asked me. I haven't felt that good in a long time." Chelsea gave me a beautiful smile. Sunshine! I leaned up to kiss the end of her nose. Her smile grew wider, then fell. The sun went behind a cloud. "The last time I was with a guy wasn't so good. Really, it was a disaster…" She looked down to my chest traced a design with her fingertip, remembering. Suddenly she shuddered, then looked up to me. She banished the memory. Comfortable back in the here-and- now, her face brightened. Sunshine again! "…but I don't want to talk about that now." She gave me that shy smile of hers. "My bottom will be sore for a day or so," she continued. "but I've had welts down there before. The kind of sex we just had makes the ache worthwhile, believe me. I'll pay that price any day of the week. No doubt. I just wish sex was that good all the time… every time." "Me too!" I managed to sneak in. "Me too." Chelsea hunched over her arms to kiss me, then settled again, chin on forearms. "But it's hard to find a guy that can control it as well as you do. I can tell: you've had experience. You took me right to the edge… Sometime I'll tell you my story, and you can tell me yours. Not now. Not yet. But sometime. That's a promise." She kissed her fingertip, then laid it on my chin. "Okay?" "You've got a deal, sweetie." I agreed. "But, just so you know, I may know a few people that might make your search for the right partner a little easier…" Interest flashed in Chelsea's eyes. Being that her face was perched about a foot from mine, it was hard to miss. "…but as you say: not now, not yet, but sometime." She grinned. "You shit! You complete and total shit!" Reaching beneath her stomach, she grabbed Mr Snake a gave him a tug. That woke him up. I pulled her head down for another kiss. It lengthened. She pushed the pillow aside to get closer. I stuffed it behind my head to sit up a bit more, easing the strain on my neck. Her nipples were hard again, denting my chest. Nice nips! Careful of the weals on her sore butt, I began running my hands over her naked body. Beautiful skin. All that remained of her outfit were the stockings. But that's all good. I have a thing for women in stockings. Sexy. Makes Mr Snake stand up. Speak of the devil… As if on cue, Mr Snake was alive, awake and aware once more. Eager too. Since I had pretty much controlled the action up to that point, I thought that Chelsea might like to take a turn. It was a good thought. We continued to kiss and nibble at each other's faces: lips, chin, throat, jaw… Meanwhile Chelsea reached back to fondle Mr Snake grown large behind her back. Actually, grown large between her legs, as she was squirming around atop my chest with her legs trailing down. She closed her thighs as we kissed, trapping him. His head and the first couple inches of his shaft were left sticking up below the red cheeks of her bare butt. Chelsea's thighs gave the shaft of my dick a glorious massage as we kissed. She fingered the knob, teasing the sensitive skin around the glans. Wetting her fingertips with the first drops of precum, she circled the head, teasing the rim with a fingernail. Whoa! That sent a bolt through to my sac! I felt that to my toes! Chelsea must have noticed. That my back arched, my eyes rolled back and a shudder ran through me, may have given me away. She did it again. That time, all the way around. Oh mama!!! I almost shot my wad right there! My nuts were tingling. My toes curled. I grabbed her head and thrust my tongue deep into her mouth. Suck face time! Chelsea gave as good as she got, but didn't let a little thing like kissing distract her. She began pumping my cock, stroking the shaft and gently squeezing the head. Mr Snake couldn't have been more ready. Apparently Chelsea's pussy was ready too. She broke the kiss with a final nibble at my lower lip, then scooted back to straddle my groin. Gathering her legs beneath her, she raised herself on her knees. Mr Snake was standing a bit tall for her even then, but she didn't let a little thing like that deflect her from her goal. I didn't think it possible, but she managed to bend the shaft just a teeny bit. Enough to press the head of my dick between the folds of her puss and into the glove-tight entry of her vagina. Juicy slick and hot for cock, Chelsea was as excited – as ready to fuck – as I. A tremor ran through her; her neck arched; her mouth fell wide; a high-pitched moan of almost-pain and pleasure-too-intense wailed from her throat as she jammed her body down, impaling herself on my cock. Wild, wailing, as out of control as she was, even Chelsea couldn't take the whole shaft at one thrust. Up she popped gasping, then down again, visciously. She clutched her bobbing breasts to squeeze the mounds and twist her nipples cruelly as she rode my dick like a demented cowgirl. Her vagina gripped my shaft tightly with each stroke, pumping me. I clutched her thighs, threw my head back and held on for her ride. Up, down, up, then down again to grind her pussy against my pubic bone, then up again. There was no rhythm, no pace but immediate. Hot, nasty, primitive sex. A rutting. Crazy… …and very, very good. Neither of us – hell, no one – could've lasted for long. Nasty sex at its best. Within minutes we were on the verge of orgasm, she ahead, me close behind. I was pumping my ass up to meet her. She was slamming down to drive me deep. My dick was kissing the petals of her cervix with each thrust again. Her wails and my roars must have been audible for blocks. Neither of us noticed or cared. Cruel in my passion, I reached up to her thumb her clit. Houston, we have lift off! Chelsea's eyes popped open. She keened, drew a breath, then keened again, screaming; totally impaled and frantically grinding her sex on my erection. Her thighs were tight on my hips; her heels digging into my legs. Crueller still, I ran my thumbnail up from the base of her clit, drawing the engorged button out and up. Not yet recovered from the first, Chelsea launched again, keening. Her voice ragged. She looked down to me, eyes wide, wild and fearful; wailing as she worked her ass demonically, grinding; wailing as she climaxed; wailing as she felt my dick pulse with cum. Raging in my climax, I clutched her tiny waist and roared gutterally as I jammed her body down. My ass arched up, driving Mr Snake deep into her warm, slick, glove-tight sheath as the cum sprayed, filling her cunt with my seed. Chelsea balanced there, perched on my loins for a timeless moment shuddering, then collapsed over my hands, falling to my chest as the last of my cum jetted into her body. Half-unconscious and moaning, she was as limp and light, as ragged as a doll. Her long hair flowed over us, covering our union. Shuddering together; gasping for air; we lay together totally spent. Neither had the strength or the will to move an inch. All we could do was breath; chests heaving. Even that was hard. Rivelets of sweat ran from our bodies to stain the sheets beneath me. We lay there together still entwined until our breathing eased. I roused first to unbend Chelsea's legs. She was more asleep than awake, and just let me straighten her body over mine. Mr Snake, now flacid and snoozin' slipped out of her pussy as I worked. No varts this time. Well, maybe a little one. But I had no strength for more than a tired smile. Chelsea just snuggled to my chest, eyes closed. I reached out and tugged her bedspread over the top of us, then fell back exhausted. Some time later I felt Chelsea stirring. We'd fallen asleep together. I opened my eyes to find her staring down out me. Blue eyes heavy with satiety and sleep, the ghost of that shy smile played on her lips. "My Lord, James," she whispered haltingly. "I-I wanted to have some good s-sex – at least, I hoped it would be good – but that…" She groped for the right words, stumbling over them when they came. "…that was totally the best… best sex… I've ever had… I… You… you fucked m-me… better… than… than anyone I've ever been with… It was amazing!… You… you took on a role… you took me to places I've only dreamed about... I-I've heard about… about m-multiple o- orgasms but…Thank you…!" She was stroking my ego bone. My head started to swell a bit, but Chelsea brought me right back to earth. "N-not that I've had all that many 'p-partners'…" She blushed. "...I can't believe I'm telling you this, but… I-I've only been with t-two other guys besides you…" She blushed again, then dropped her head to my chest, muffling her next words. "…a-and one… w-woman…" She peered up at me again, searching my face. I cupped her head and pulled her to me for a kiss. It seemed to reassure her. She went on like she had to get something off her chest. It was some kind of 'something'. "The last guy before you was an intern while I was doing my practicals while I was in school…" She hesitated again, looked at me, then laid the side of her face on my chest. At first she spoke slowly, still hesitating. The last came out with a rush. "…The other two were… were… at the convent school… he was the… a teacher… and a priest… She… she was the… the Mistress of Novices… and a nun…" I could feel her cringe. "…I was planning to be a nun too… I had the calling…" Chelsea and I talked for a long time that night. Mostly Chelsea talked. I did a lot of listening. A lot of gentle stroking. She had a bunch to get off her slender chest. A whole bunch. What she said went a long way to explain her particular bent. It turned out that I reminded her of someone. Apparently I am a younger image of the priest that had introduced her to the sub scene. She has a real love-hate relationship with him, or rather, with her memory of him. She loves the kinky sex, and the concept of being punished for her 'sins'. She hates that she found out about it at the age she did. She first met the priest at the convent school. He had taken an interest in her, supposedly to further her vocation. But his real purpose soon became apparent. He – like me – had the ability to recognize a latent submissive. Only his purposes were a bit more sinister, in that he liked his submissives young. Against-the-law and put-your-perverted- ass-in-jail young. Time out. Things being what they are, I have to be a bit vague about ages here. Suffice to say, we've all read the news stories about the sex scandals in various parishes around the country. Chelsea was caught in that mess, one of the young victims of two predators disguised by the robes and rituals of the church. Time in. By the time she fled the school, she was wise beyond her years in the ways of submission, having shared his bed as well as that of the Mistress of Novices of the convent. Both quite enjoyed sampling her charms. Both enjoyed punishing her for her lewd conduct. Conduct that they had demanded of her to begin with. At some point, the whole thing came apart. Both the priest and the nun were found out. A girl – another of their victims – went public. They're now out of the church and in jail. I'd bet that neither is enjoying being on the receiving end of their bent. Other convicts hate people that prey on kids, and the guards can tend to be a little bit lax at watching out for them. Getting bent over and reamed a few times a week must get very old after a year or twenty. Chelsea was old enough then to join the lawsuit that ensued. She got a healthy settlement from the school, but still spends a lot of time in therapy. She tells me that it helps a great deal. She's learning to cope with the whole mess. Her therapist has managed to convince Chelsea that fantasies are a normal, healthy part of a person's sex life; that she has no reason to be ashamed of hers. Chelsea and I are friends. I think that I'm one of her best pals. She tells me that I'm sweet and kind and generous and totally non-judgemental. Oh, and very hot. I plan to introduce her to a few people who are members of a club to which I belong. I'm certain that she'll fit in perfectly. More to follow about that. I'll tell you about it… sometime. Time out. By the way, I was completely wrong about Chelsea. She's not high-maintenance at all. She's not looking for the man of her dreams, not yet anyway. She just likes to fuck… …and get spanked. Like I said, Chelsea and I are just friends. Good friends, I think. However, she is totally in love with Mr Snake. 'Goes to show ya. I've still got things to learn about women. Thank you God. No man should be cursed with knowing all about women. My theory is that knowing all about them would make him a her. Ya think? Time in. Index of Terms abs – abdominal muscles. balangas – female breasts, usually large and shapely; see 'gazangas'. BB's – beautiful breasts; bodacious balangas. beauteous – (1) beautiful; (2) vulva; external sexual characteristics of a female; female genitalia. bellyring – a jewelled decoration of the belly button, usually involving piercing of the navel. boobs – female breasts, usually the large economy size. bosom – female chest; breasts; typically of a female over eighty years of age and/or with a chest measurement over fifty inches. boudoir – a woman's bedroom. bubble butt – an ass, usually female, with a smoothly curved convex appearance as viewed from the side; rounded, as a soap bubble; a gluteus to the nicely rounded maximus. bumbers – female breasts. catechism – a manual for teaching religious doctrine, containing a series of rote questions and answers. CD shirt – namebrand: Colden Dam. cervix – The narrow outer end of a woman's uterus; the entrance to a woman's womb. cowgirl – a female who lives and works on a ranch in the western and southwestern areas of the USA, and who spends much of her time on horseback herding cattle. cunt – vagina. cupid (lips) – soft; sensuous; stimulating. dick – Penis. do / did (her / him) – Have sexual intercourse with; fuck. 'easy' word – a word signal used in masochistic games which, when used by the sub, tells the dom that the sub is approaching his or her limits; it means 'keep going, but ease off a bit'. feral – wild; untamed; brutally fierce. gazangas – female breasts, usually large and shapely; see 'balangas'. girl-firm – having the firmness and elasticity of a nubile young woman's flesh; see 'girl-tight'. girl-tight – having the firmness and elasticity of a nubile young woman's flesh; see 'girl-firm'. hold-ups – women's stockings with a band of elasticized material around the thighs designed to hold the stockings in place; see 'stay-ups'. homie(s) or homey – homeboy(s); friend(s). horizontal bop – sexual intercourse; see 'mattress-dance'. hot – extremely sexually attractive. innie – a concave navel; the bellybutton does not protrude; as opposed to an 'outie'. keen(ing) – a high-pitched wail, scream or screech. knickknack – a small trivial article or memento usually intended for decoration. lit off – achieved orgasm; climaxed. mattress-dance – sexual intercourse; see 'horizontal bop'. Miata – a sports car manufactured by Mazda. mons – Mons Veneris or Mons Pubis; New Latin in origin; literally, 'eminence of Venus'; a rounded eminence of fatty tissue upon the pubic symphysis especially of the human female. Nice A – very nice ass. nips – nipples. panties – female underwear which covers or covers a substantial portion of the pelvic area; panties come in all sizes: bikini, hip-hugger, brief, low-rise, boy-shorts, etc.; see 'thongs'. Pinot Noir – a dry red wine produced from the same grapes as French Burgundy. prick – penis. pussy – Vulva; the external genatilia of a woman. queef – pussy fart; gas expelled from a woman's vagina post sexual intercourse; see 'vart'. quim – vagina; the inner passage of a woman's vulva. rape fantasy – a mental image that creates an especially vivid picture – in this case of rape – in a persons mind which causes intense sexual excitement; the enactment of that fantasy. ride cowgirl – sexual intercourse with the woman straddling the loins of her partner. root – penis. rump – ass; butt; bottom; rear. sac – testicles. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 4 This is the seventh installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter III, Interlude IV, Liz ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Here we meet one of our hero's old acquaintances, now a new lover, Elizabeth Barrows – Liz (et al). James is hired to install and setup a computer in her office, but Liz has some additional tasks in mind for the young man. As a widow, she's got a certain itch that is overdue for scratching… …and, wouldn't you know, James has just the right tool to relieve the poor woman's suffering. Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ III The Ladies in My Life Interlude IV: Liz (et al) "…Repainted the family room. Did Liz…." Next, there's Liz. She's new. Rather, that we're fucking is new. I've known her for over a year. Liz – Mrs Elizabeth Barrows – is a 45-year-old widow who owns and runs a small, high-end art gallery in the city. She has two daughters, Zoe, 18 and Siobhan, 22. Zoe is a classmate of mine. That's how Liz and I first met. More about those two later. Liz appears to be more high-30's than mid-40's, with long, wavy black hair and gorgeous brown eyes behind heavy glasses. She's a bit on the plump side at about 5'6" and 155 or so. She has an hourglass shape, with a generous set of tits (38D) with fat, reddish-brown nipples and an ass that fits her frame. Rubens would have loved her. Great ass! Knowing nada about computers, Liz was looking for help with system at the gallery. A mutual friend gave her my name along with a couple of others. Since she knew me, she chose me. Looking back on it, there may have been an ulterior motive in her choice. Could be. I set it up, then taught her how to use it over a couple of weeks. One afternoon I showed up as usual and went to work in her office. Unbeknowst to me, she'd promptly put up the "Closed" sign, locked the front door, turned out the showroom lights and shed her clothes. I was sitting sideways to the door, concentrating on loading software when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. When I'm concentrating on something – anything – I stay focused. A bomb could go off next door and I wouldn't lose focus. I finished the input with the click of the mouse, then caught a whiff of perfume. Expensive perfume. Justifiable rape perfume. My nose followed the scent, pulling my eyes to the door. Some bomb! Or is it bombshell?! Anyway… By the time she's reached the office, she'd left a trail of clothes behind. Her blazer, scarf, skirt and half-slip lay on the floor in clumps. All Liz wore into the office was her blouse and lingerie, a matching set made of semi-sheer black silk, satin and lace. She told me later that she had purchased the lingerie solely for my viewing pleasure: a strapless bra that barely contained her tits, a lightly boned waist cincher with garters, string bikini panties with bows tied on her hips, stockings and 4" heels. Liz posed for me in the doorway, her blouse open, the collar falling off her bare shoulders, with her wavy raven hair framing her face, cascading down her back. Her black-framed glasses were perched on the end of her nose. She licked her lips slowly. All in all, a blatant invitation for nasty sex. Time out. Red lipstick. Killer! I knew it was gonna be good! Makes my dick hard just thinking about it. Time in. There stood Liz in all her glory, posing for me. She had a glint in her eye that said, 'I'm gonna eat you alive tonight young man', but there was also the flash of something that meant 'God, don't let me be making a fool of myself here – if he turns me down, I'll be so embarrassed I'll kill myself'. She was putting on a brave front, but she'd also shown me her cards as well as her assets. Some cards. Great assets. But I knew that I was gonna win this one. Time out. You may have noticed. I like to be in charge. Time in. Time out. Sometimes I really am a shit. I'm also pretty good at keeping a poker face. I learned that early. Mom taught me. She could figure out that I was up to something just by my expression. To keep some distance between my butt and the switch mom used back then – back before I gained some weight and height on her which made her take up with that broom handle we talked about earlier – I learned to keep things off my face. Thanks mom! Your lesson continues to serve me well. Time in. I know that I kept a straight face. Liz started to get uneasy. It was in her eyes. But before she could flee, I motioned her to me with a crooked finger. Her eyes showed her relief, as well as a rush of adrenaline. I would've bet she was wet when she posed at the door. There's no question she was wet when she came through it. 'Twas in her eyes y'see. I could almost see her clit getting moist and puffy. Those panties were stretched tight over the her sex. There was a darker spot centered where her pussylips were most plump. Liz tried to stay in character as the sultry older woman intent on seducing a young man, but she more scurried than sauntered to my side. She was giving herself away: she wasn't at all as cool and collected as she would have me believe. No way. I tried to be cool myself. But watching her, I could only grin. Which did reassure her, so it's all good. I swung the chair around and put my hands on her bare hips to hold her close between my knees. Her body was soft beneath my hands. Soft, but so hot! I mean, she is in her forties, so her skin doesn't have the tone of a younger woman like Erin or Missy, but there's nothing like the feeling of an older woman's bare skin, particularly when she's hot for your form. "Mrs Barrows! You are looking totally ph… fine tonight!" Time out. Almost dropped the 'phat' word in there… Brrrrrr! That would have been whacked. Liz isn't fat. True she is a little bit broad in the 'beam' shall be say. But it ain't fat. More like stocky, or better, plump, or better yet, meaty. But Liz is meaty in all the right places. Her ass may be wider than those of the other ladies I see, but it's also rounded and smooth-skinned and deliciously vibrant under my hands. Lots of time on the tennis court and in the swimming pool will do that for a lady. Fun to look at too. Whatever. It works for her. But telling her that she looked 'phat' might have blown the night for us. Time in. "My guess is that you're a bonus for getting this system up and running so quickly." I continued. "'Cept I'm not done yet… So I guess I get my bonus early… Sweet!" "Please James," she cooed. "Don't be so formal. Call me Liz… and yes, I do have a bonus for you… and for me too…" She put her hands on my shoulders, and bent from the waist to bring her face to mine. Her breasts were spilling out of her bra; soft white pillows of mature titflesh, quivering minutely with each breath. I ran my fingertips slowly up along her taut belly over the cincher from her hips to her chest. She shuddered at the touch. I cupped her breasts through her bra, then pulled her forward with fingers curled beneath the underwires for our first kiss. Liz moaned as our lips met. Our tongues danced together as we tasted each other. She shivered as I fondled her bra-clad mounds, thumbing her nipples to full red-ripeness through the sheer lace. While we kissed, I released one globe to brush my fingernails back down her quivering belly to her panties. I teased the line of elastic for a few moments, enjoying the urgent mews my touch elicited. It made me hot, just listening to her. Liz shifted her weight, widening her stance and opening herself to me. I trailed my fingernails further down, over the plump hump of her mons. Touching; testing; teasing. I remember thinking: Mmmhhh… Lots of bush there... Gonna have to do something about it before too long… This lady's gonna want a ride on my tongue tonight… I can feel it… Damn, this woman is wet…!This one's gonna be just for fun… Nasty sex with a mature woman… And lots of it… Liz was so ready she was trembling. When I cupped her fat pussy through the gusset of her panties, I felt her wetness. She was soaked. She licked at my lips, then began planting her lips all over my face. Butterfly kisses. Here and gone, that quick, fluttering. "Oh God James…!" She moaned hoarsely between kisses. "I should be a lady about this, but… Please f-fuck me now…! I want you in me… as hard and… fast as you can…! I need it…! It's been so long…! Aaaaaahhhh…! Yessssss…!" I slid one finger into the divide of her fat cachancha, pressing, then slowly drew my finger along until the nail scrabed against her clit still hidden beneath the sodden nylon. Liz rose on her toes at the touch, gasping, then dropped again to press her puss more firmly against my finger again. "First things first, sweet lady…" I whispered in her ear as I stroked her swollen pussylips. "Let me introduce you to a friend of mine. You're gonna love him…" As I whispered to her, I pulled her hand down to my crotch. Mr Snake was alive, awake and strangling, trapped in my jeans. 'tidn't take Liz long to get him out for a breath of fresh air. That quick, my pants and boxers were down to my thighs and Liz got her first look at him. A split second later she was on her knees and he was greeting her tonsils. "Hello Mr Snake! Cum on in! It's very good to meet you! Give us a kiss, and let us help lighten your load today…!" I swear she was cumming as she closed her lips around his head, sucking him in. Looked like it anyway. Sure sounded like it. Man! There's nothing like a lady's lips wrapped around your throbbin' dick. Ohh yeah! Her tongue is so sweet! Gonna pull the cum right outta my nuts… She wrapped one hand around my dick and jammed the other down the front of her panties. While she played lollipop with my cock, she strummed her own clit. Liz quivered with each stroke of her finger, sending ripples through her tits. I ran my fingers through her hair at her temples, then took a firm grip. She gasped at the sensation of being held in place with my dick in her mouth. I didn't think it possible, but that only made her hotter. Me too. She looked up to me with shining eyes. Pure lust. God, her lips and tongue were dancing all up and down my cock, leaving red lipstick kisses along the length. Time out. What is it with a woman's red lipstick smeared along your dick anyway? Guys, you know what I mean. Even the idea is hot. To have it happen is choice. Time in. But as much as I was enjoying having her on her knees giving me a hummer, I had the overwhelming urge to bend Liz over her desk and ram my dick up her wet pussy. She looked like a woman that could take it all and beg for more. I loosed my grip, allowing her to pull back. "I've gotta say that you look like a wet dream there on your knees sucking my cock Liz. But I'd bet you'd look even better bent over you desk with my cock buried in your pussy." Subtle, huh. But the idea very much appealed to Liz. She took Mr Snake deep once more, then hummed her way back the length of his shaft and pulled off with a 'pop'. Mozart was playing softly in the background; 'Eine Kleine Nacht Musik'. She kept time as she hummed. Impressive. Liz licked her lips, then grinned up at me, ready and eager for the next round. I stood up and kicked off my shoes. She tugged my pants down my legs and off my feet as I slipped out of my shirt. Aaah yes! Naked with a lady again. Must be my natural state. I seem to be most comfortable that way. I pulled her up into my arms. She slipped her arms around my neck, and molded her body to mine, pressing her tits into my chest. She tasted of brandy with a hint of mint. Made me think she'd had a quick pony before I had arrived. To keep her nerve, you understand. Kickin' lips. Excellent tongue. We kissed for a few minutes, probing each other's mouths. My hands went naturally to her head and ass to hold her to me. Mr Snake was thumpin' against her belly. Liz was likin' that! She was likin' it even more when I one-handed the catch of her bra. Triple hooks. Not easy – unless you've had practice. Pinch. Pause. Sweeze. Thumb. Flip – flip – flip. All done. Left-handed. I'm gooood! Ambidextrous too. My right hand never moved from the back of her head. Still lip-locked, Liz's eyes flew wide open when she felt the band of the bra loosen at her back. She broke the kiss long enough to whisper, "Oh my!!!" with her lips tickling mine as she spoke. Her eyes got dreamy. I'd have bet a ton of money that her pussy was even juicier than before. Looking down at her chest, she leaned back an inch as I slipped the bra from her breasts. Her nipples were cherry-ripe, standing tall from her tits. I pinched one lightly, then pulled her back tight to me with a hand on her back. My lips came down on hers, hard. Demanding. Liz melted in my arms. As we kissed, I ran both hands up and down her bare back beneath her blouse, my fingernails lightly scraping. Each touch sent a shiver down her spine. Her nipples were so hard, they were digging into my chest. Time for the next step in my seduction. Hey! I had to help her along didn't I. After all, I only felt it fair that she get as much enjoyment out of it as me. 'told you I was a nice guy. I gently tugged her arms from around my neck, then slipped behind to guide her. The desktop was relatively clear. Just a few papers. I hoped nothing important. I slipped the blouse from her shoulders and tossed it over the monitor. Liz arched her back as I cupped her naked breasts, squeezing the heavy globes and lightly pinching her crinkled nipples. She rose on her tiptoes, whimpering as she reached back to circle my neck again, back arching to thrust her breasts into my hands. Really great gazangas! Her head fell back into the crook of my shoulder. Her lips ran along my jawline leaving those butterfly kisses, her moist tongue slipping out to taste me, then up to my mouth. I spent a few minutes fondling her breasts as we kissed, squeezing and kneading her fat globes. Her nipples were like strawberries between my fingers: bursting-red, ripe and ready to be plucked. Releasing her breasts after a final squeeze, I brushed my fingertips backwards down her flanks over the lace of the waist cincher. A tremor ran through her body, making her naked breasts dance on her chest. "Oh God! Don't tickle! I'm so… Aaaaahhh!!!!" The last being the reaction when I slipped the bows from her hips and pulled her panties away. Naked but for the cincher, hose and heels – oh, and the glasses perched on the tip of her nose – Liz was almost ready. Tremors ran through her body as my fingers trailed along her hips and down, across the wide hollows of her pelvis. Liz moaned urgently as I reached to cup her pussy. Lots of hair, but neatly trimmed. "Oh my sweet Jesus…! You're killing me…! I'm so wet…! Feel me… touch me…! Put your fingers in me…! Please!" Liz writhed against me as I slipped one finger along the divide of her puss, then in to tickle the entry of her vagina. God she was wet! She wriggled her ass against my groin. Mr Snake was standing tall, nestled between her fleshy cheeks. He was definitely ready. Achingly ready, you might say. Precum smeared across the hollow of her back just above the chink of her ass. My balls were already tingling when I pulled her arms from around my neck and down to the desktop. Liz widened her stance, then rose on her tiptoes and arched her back. Shivering with anticipation, she looked back over her shoulder and the broad cheeks of her bare ass. Her pussy lips were open, flushed pink and juicy. Etched on her face: pure naked lust. My erection centered. Mr Snake always knows the way. He smelled ripe pussy and arrowed for those juicy lips. I ran my hands down her back, grasped her broad hips, lifted slightly, then pulled her back on my cock. Home in heaven again! Tight despite the slickness, Liz's vagina clutched at the shaft as my dick burrowed inward. She yelped, then moaned with pleasure-pain as I thrust into her. Her neck arched at the sensation. Apparently Liz hadn't experienced a thick cock churning in her juicy puss for quite a while. It showed. The heat she felt gained fuel when I traced the furrow of her broad ass and centered on the kiss of her ass. "Oh d-don't…!" She whimpered. "D-don't do that… Oh God! Oooohhh, take it ooouuut…! Oh you make me feel so nasty…!" She pumped her ass against my loins, eager to take all of me. It might've hurt, but it was a good hurt. The sensation of my finger invading her ass made her pump all the harder. She wasn't ready to admit it to herself, but I knew. I could feel it. It made her all the more wet. Liz definitely liked it. A mini-orgasm rippled through her belly as I thrust again. The tip of my cock kissed the petals of her cervix. Gasping, she pumped back to me again. She wanted more. "Fuck me you bastard…! Give me that big cock…! Make me scream…! Aaaaaannnhhh…! Yessssss…! F-fuck meeeee…!" Oooh! Another Potty-mouth! I grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck, then pulled back. She arched against me, whimpering, as I slammed Mr Snake deep. The broad cheeks of her naked ass rippled with the impact of my loins as Mr Snake hammered her pussy. Power fucking. Mosh pit sex. Slamdancing with your dick buried deep in her pussy. Pumping insane while she wails beneath you, dancing on your dick. Overpowered by your strength, she can only take it; submit to it; spread wide and helpless as your dick jackhammers her cunt as fast as your ass can piston. Liz fell forward onto the desk as her arms gave out; her naked breasts quashed beneath; her ass hoisted high. She grasped the far edge and looked back over her shoulder, fearful but needy, as I took her. Animal sex at its best. "Uh! Uh! Uh! Auh! Auh! Auh! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! …" No words, just base growls, getting higher with each stroke until she was shrieking as her orgasm burst from her belly. "Eee-eyh! Eee-eyh! Eee-eyh! F-fuck m-me J-james…! F-fuck m-me…! F-fuck m-me you bas… Faaannnnnneeaaaahh!!!" By sheer luck we timed it perfectly: as she lit off, so did I. It doesn't happen often, despite what you've read. I hammered again, stuttered. Thrust forward. Paused. Stuttered. Half back. Then thrust in again, ramming Mr Snake deep as he began spitting cum. I roared wordlessly. Liz wailed soprano harmony. Time out. Guys, you know the feeling: you're right on the edge, teetering. Knife-edge time. Can't go forward, can't go back. Almost in pain, lost in the pleasure. Then it bursts and you ram in, deep as you can, wiggling you ass to get deeper. Jesus God! There's nothing like the sensation as your balls curdle and thick ropes of jism shoot out the end of your dick! There's something very basic; very primitive; something extremely male about that sensation. A women may have multiple orgasms, but she can't know the feeling a man has of ramming hard, fast and deep, then planting his seed in the very depths of a her vagina. Sorry ladies. Can't share. It's a guy thing. One you'll never, ever experience. Time in. Speaking of multiple orgasms: Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 4 As my cum splashed against the mouth of her cervix, Liz wailed again. Her whole body shuddered, shaking the desk as she climaxed once more. We held there, muscles locked for a timeless moment, my ass flexing as I pumped the last drops of cum from my dick, taking my strength along. Together we slumped, muscles loosed and failing, my heaving chest to her back. We lay sandwiched, all gasping and sweaty and smelling of good sex. Braced by my forearms on the desk, but otherwise limp, I rested the side of my face against hers. Mr Snake slowly deflated but with no place to go, remained cradled in her puss. "My God…! that was… fantas… tic…" Liz gasped slowly. "Let's… d-do it… again…!" She worked the muscles of her pussy, squeezing my rapidly deflating shaft. "Shit Liz…!" I managed to squeeze out between pants. "Give me… a chance… to catch… my breath…! Will ya…!?!" Liz laughter barked. Then giggling breathlessly, she turned her face to kiss my cheek. "Okay then… As long as you… promise to fuck me… again tonight, before… you leave..." "Elizabeth, my sweet… As long as you keep lookin' the way you're lookin'… And doin' what your doin'… I definitely do not see that as a problem…! Definitely… Not a problem…" Liz kissed my cheek again. We fucked for hours that night. We made it on the desk, the office couch, the floor, even against the wall with her ass cradled in my hands and her legs wrapped around my hips. That time, we knocked a painting off the other side of the wall. It had to be reframed. Oh well. At some point in there I introduced Liz to anal sex. She's wild for it now: crouched on the floor with her bare breasts mashed to the rug; her bountiful ass in the air; wailing as I pump Mr Snake deep, drilling her pooper. Eventually she sent out for Chinese and we ate, then traded lobster sauce kisses with our nightcap fuck. The delivery guy grinned like a fool when I answered the door barefoot and bare-chested with my jeans half buttoned, reeking of hot sex. He could see the little clumps of Liz's clothing littering the floor behind me. Time out. Oh shit! I knew him. A kid from school, a Junior I think. Another legend in the making. Fuck! Just what I need. Oh well. I'll just deny it. For all the good that will do me. Time in. We even spent time shaving her beauteous after I told Liz of my preference. She keeps herself bare now. For me. I may have created a monster. I've never met a woman so crazy for oral sex. Liz is in love with my tongue. She'd never had the pleasure – her husband wouldn't go down on her – though she'd had plenty of experience sucking cock. She even managed to deep-throat my snake. Managed, hell she sucked Mr Snake right down, loving every minute of it! Barely a gag. Impressive. Liz swallows too. When I finally dragged my ass out the door, I barely had the strength to drive home. She elected to stay. I covered Liz with a blanket and kissed her goodnight. Then I picked up her clothes, wrote her a note and left her there, sound asleep on the couch. It had taken us awhile, but we managed to wear each other out. Even Mr Snake was satiated. A first. Well… A first for Liz and I anyway. Time out. Now about the lovely young Zoe, and her equally lovely older sister Siobhan. The three of us spent a memorable afternoon in Zoe's bed a few months before I fucked their mother. Siobhan came home from college early one day. She walked into their room and found me shaving her sister's pussy. Siobhan promptly dropped her panties and joined the party. Both are younger versions of their mother: a bit on the meaty side, but with big tits, and extremely enthusiastic. Chyaa! Their enthusiasm near to broke my dick. A penchant for anal sex runs in their family too. They – like their mother – are phat for it. The girls are not averse to licking a little pussy either. They went into a 69 while I was on a break, licking my cum from each other's pussy. But Mr Snake came back fast watching them num each other. As the lady said: Incest is best. Not one to waste an opportunity, I poked Zoe's ass while Siobhan was beneath her, then rolled them over and did Siobhan's. We spent that entire afternoon getting to know each other. Those girls like doubles too. Siobhan took one end of me and Zoe the other. Then they traded off. Sweet pussies. After that, they went down on me together, taking turns licking my nuts and sucking my cock. They made a game of it: who could make me cum. Zoe won. Siobhan wants a rematch. Both girls swallow too. Zoe shared. Maybe one day – when I'm feeling particularly strong and adventurous – I'll get all three Barrows ladies into bed together. Now that idea has interesting possibilities. Mr Snake concurs. Hhmmmm. Better do it before I get much older though, before I lose my nerve. Those three together could kill a guy much over the age of twenty. They'd fuck him to death… …but what a way to go! Bury me on Booty Hill. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 5 This is the eighth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter III, Interlude V, Cassandra. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart... sexy... sophisticated... and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Here we meet Cassandra, our hero's rock climbing partner and... well, you'll see. Cassandra has a rather special relationship with James, one that she'd hate to lose. Cassandra's also a junky. But a very special kind of junky. She produces her own drug, but doesn't own a lab. It's all internal, just like you and me. But she's addicted... ...to both the drug – and our hero... Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ III The Ladies in My Life "...Hung out at the beach with my homies. Saw a ballgame with Dad. Made a little money on the stock market. Took out the garbage. Logged a cross-country flight and spent the weekend rock climbing with Cassandra. Did her too..." Interlude V: Cassandra Next up is the lady that you may find to be the oddest of my eclectic circle of female companions: my climbing partner and all-around adrenaline junky, Cassandra. I'm going to tell you a few things about her here. But not too much. She figures prominently in other parts of this tale. Cassandra is a 26-year-old Extreme Sports nut, who owns and operates an exclusive high-end sports equipment outlet in town. The casual enthusiasts that frequent her establishment are not often let into the back room where she keeps the expert gear. She also designs and fabricates some of her own climbing equipment. The best of her designs are fabricated in her workshop, for sale in the store. The prototypes, are often given away to friends. Those handmade pieces are treasured in the sport and free climbing worlds. She's also the Chief Test Pilot of her stuff, which can be scary. Cassandra also writes articles and shoots photos for climbing magazines. We met in Yosemite last summer. This summer, we plan to climb Smith Rock together. Cassandra also fucks like a rabbit. Any time, anywhere, in any position. Like Phoebe, she's very 'bendable'. We flew over to the central part of the state one Friday afternoon. Friday night we ate, checked into a local Bed and Breakfast, then fucked each other senseless. Saturday we spent climbing,. Between meals Saturday night and Sunday morning, we fucked each other senseless again, slept a little, then fucked each other senseless once more. Sunday afternoon, we flew home. My kind of weekend. Time out. By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I don't know whether or not Cassandra went to work the next day, but I bagged school and spent Monday sleeping. Time in. Cassandra is about 5'5" 125 and built like a wedge, with abs like Batman and tits like flat shields on her chest (38B). Her breasts are capped with nipples the size and shape of strawberries. She has shoulder-length blond hair that she usually wears in a ponytail. Pound for pound, she is the strongest person I know. Her muscles are like steel cables sheathed in velvet. You've heard it before I'm sure, but she can crack walnuts with her fingers. No shit, for real. She climbs free, and she is good. Totally fearless on the rock face. I'm good, but I'm not that good. I use ropes. Cassandra has no use for ropes, except in bed. She likes to be tied down. She is heavy into B&D. When climbing together, she's in charge. Off the face, she claims me as her Master. She even has a special bag, her discipline kit, which she takes on our expeditions. Cassandra is also a complete tomboy who prefers to wear a pair of faded khaki shorts or worn jeans and a sloppy men's denim shirt rather than a skirt and blouse. She didn't own a dress or a purse until we met. I had to be firm after I took her out shopping for a new wardrobe. She hated every minute, particularly modeling the stuff for me. Especially the lingerie. The welts on her ass took a week to go down. Occasionally, when I'm feeling particularly cruel, I have her put on makeup and real girl clothes. Her least favorite dress-up outfit is a dark blue corset top that cradles her breasts, barely covering her nipples, and shows off her bellyring; a white linen pleated miniskirt, so short that it barely reaches her thighs and so light that it flutters in a slight breeze; a garter belt with silk stockings; and four-inch sandals with straps that lock to her ankles. She also has one of those cute little designer clutches with a short strap. You know, one of those little pain-in-the-ass purses that a girl is always afraid of losing. Cassandra is anyway. Time out. Our game is that Cassandra must keep track of it, while my job is to get it away from her without her noticing. She gets punished if I suceed. But she gets the worst punishment if she makes it easy. The worst punishment I can mete out to Cassandra is for me to ignore her for a month or so. She came close to tears the one time it's happened. Time in. Back to Cassandra's clothing: I rarely allow her to wear panties anyway, but certainly not with that dress-up outfit. A v-string or thong maybe, but usually not even those. I made her burn every pair of cotton panties she owned. Oh, and when we're out together, her naked ass must always meet the surface of any seat. She hates it, but it also makes her very wet. She keeps extra tissues to clean up after herself. A couple of months ago, I took her, dressed in the corset top and miniskirt of hers, to a private function put on by the sisters at a local lesbian club. Sans panties, of course, she had the ladies smelling fresh pussy as soon as she walked in the door. Bull dykes were hanging over her all night. I made her slow dance with a few of my friends. The butches were swarming. All were in on it, and all are familiar with Cassandra's lifestyle. The ladies took turns groping her bare ass and fingering her hairless pussy, despite her obvious reluctance and discomfort. I think Maxine is in love. Like I said, Cassandra is into adrenaline: when she's frightened, she gets hot... and very wet. The scene at the club scared her so much that she left a puddle of cum on the barstool. When I got her home, she dropped to her knees as soon as the door closed and blew me in the foyer of her house. She sucked my cock all the way down her throat, something that she hadn't been able to do before. By the way, Cassandra swallows too. Afterwards she led me to her bedroom by my dick. I put a blindfold on her, tied her to the bed spread-eagled, and then went down on her. I knew she was fantasizing that she was being taken by one of the ladies. She passed out when her orgasm hit. When she came to, I flipped her legs up to her chest, wet my cock in her pussy, then fucked her ass while I teased her clit. She came and passed out again when she felt my load shooting deep in her butt. If you haven't yet guessed, Cassandra gets off on anything that frightens her. Way off. Space Shuttle launch off. Scare her bad enough, she'll orgasm. To Cassandra, terror equals adrenaline equals euphoria. That she had been "forced" to dance with and be aggressively felt up by a bunch of half-soused and completely horny lesbian's who were hot for her compact, sexy and very available little body totally spooked her. The idea of being tied down helpless and "raped" by another woman horrified her half out of her mind. The reason Cassandra is so taken with me is that I'm somewhat inventive when it comes to finding things that alarm her. I keep her guessing and never quite allow her to get comfortable. I've been so successful at it, now she's scared that I'll break it off with her. Talk about a vicious circle. But it keeps Cassandra on the edge of orgasm. As a special gift for me this past Christmas, she went through electrolysis, so hair won't grow on her little puss. She also had her clit pierced, and has a tiny gold padlock dangling there. My name is engraved on it. The lock works too! She insisted that I keep the key. It's on my keychain: that key, the key to my safe deposit box and the key to my Miata. Somehow that makes her feel a tiny bit safe, like a good fist jam on an overhang. Cassandra also has my initials branded – no not tattooed, branded, with a hot iron – on her right asscheek. She had a custom iron made, then begged me to do it. It's a bit extreme for me, but she wanted it so desperately. We practiced on a piece of scrap leather in her workshop. The key is to get the brand hot in the coals, but not glowing. When we were satisfied with the tests, she slipped out of her clothes. She laid a pad along the edge of the bench and leaned across, arms outstretched. I tied her wrists to opposite corners, then her ankles and knees to the bench legs. Last, I secured a wide leather strap across the bench, over the small of her back. The muscles or her back flexed as she tested her restraints. She could turn her head, and flex her hands, her toes and the cheeks of her ass, but otherwise she couldn't move. When she was secure, I shoved a rubber bit between her teeth and tied the cords around her neck. Her plump little pussy was dripping. Mr Snake was wide awake. Cassandra wasn't expecting it, but she loves that kind of surprise. With her arms and legs stretched wide, her naked body looked so very available. And completely helpless. The puffy lips of her bare pussy glistened with her juices. She was too gorgeous to resist. So I stepped between her legs and silently released my erection. Then I put on a pair of rough leather gloves, took an asscheek in each hand and opened her wide. The head of my cock centered between the gooey pink petals of her entry. The coarse leather gripping the soft cheeks of her ass sent a shudder through Cassandra's tethered body. She was expectly something, but not that. Suddenly aware of what was coming she moaned. Passion rippled through her bound body as waited, anticipating. I buried my shaft in her pussy with one thrust. Her head popped up, her hands splayed and her toes curled, then she let out a long, low whimper. She lives for that kind of surprise. I wanted her on the edge, not over, so I fucked her hard and fast. A redneck's fuck. The kind I perform only on purpose. The kind where the guy gets his, and leaves the girl hanging. I banged Cassandra's tight little pussy in record time. I could feel her orgasm building, but I was always a few seconds ahead of her. I timed mine precisely. A moment before she was ready, I slammed into the padding of her ass, driving my cock deep, then let loose. She mewed urgently, her frustrated need palpable as she felt the jets of my cum spraying her cervix. God she's got a tight and talented pussy! She gripped the rubber bit with her teeth and murmured to me, obviously pleading with me to finish her off as I pulled out. It's hard to talk through your nose, but Chloe tried. She was desperate to cum. She flexed her ass and her pussy gripped my shaft for an instant, but she couldn't hold me inside. While she lay there helpless and whimpering with need, I tucked Mr Snake out of harm's way. Then came the big moment, while she was still distracted. I retrieved the iron from the coals, stroked her asscheek a few times and told her that she would be a slave forevermore. Then I pressed the burning iron to her cheek and held it for a silent count of three. It's a good thing that I stopped at three. If I'd gone to four, the brand would have been blurred. As I pulled the iron back, Cassandra's orgasm hit. Hard. Real hard. Break-your-dick-off hard. Despite the ropes, every muscle in her entire body spasmed as she came. The bench weighs a ton, but it seemed to levitate. Her teeth clenched, damn near biting through an inch of rubber. She screamed. Her shriek trailed off as she passed out. Time out. She told me later that the brand burning her asscheek hurt worse than she'd imagined it would, but the orgasm was the best she'd ever had. Her scream and the fainting spell were caused far more by passion than by pain. Time in. While she was out, I untied her and treated the burn. She had to wear a skirt for a week and rarely sat down for two. But she is some kind of proud of that scar. She's a member of an S&M club that we visit occasionally. When I'm being cruel, I refuse to allow her to lift her skirt to show off either her brand, or her pierced and padlocked clit. No panties allowed, of course. Well, maybe a crotchless v-string or thong once in awhile. Rarely, but it has happened. So far, four other female subs that frequent the club have offered themselves to me, after seeing my initials seared into the cheek of Cassandra's ass. Cassandra freaks me sometimes, but I never let her see it. Though she claims that I am her one true Master, she knows that she has no hold on me. Someday I'll leave. I think that part scares her, and she so dearly loves to have it hanging out on the edge. She told me the last guy that she was involved with fell in love with her, became too clingy and then was reluctant to take it to the extremes. Like I said, Cassandra is an adrenaline junky who lives for the extremes. I feed her habit. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms abs – abdominal muscles. B&D – Bondage and Discipline. bagged – skipped; failed to show up, on purpose. blow; blew – to perform fellatio; performed fellatio. bull dyke – a lesbian with an agressively masculine presentation and attitude. butch – a lesbian displaying aggressively male characteristics. electrolysis – a medical procedure whereby hair roots are destroyed by an electrical current; once the root is destroyed, the hair will no longer grow in that follicle. face – rockface; a vertical expansion of rock to which some people are addicted to climbing. fist jam – a hold used in climbing where the open hand is placed into a crack, then the climber makes a fist which jams the hand in place; as long as the climber holds the fist, her or she is secure. freak – to cause emotional upset or distress; the act of upsetting or distressing a person. girl clothes – feminine clothing; dresses, skirts, shoes, etc. of feminine cut and styling; as opposed to pants, shirts, shoes, etc. of masculine cut and styling. junky – one who is addicted to and dependent upon something. Master – a male who is dominant in a dominant/submissive relationship; see 'Mistress'. overhang – a rock formation which juts out from a rock face. Phoebe – Phoebe Buffay; as in 'Friends'. redneck – a bigotted white man; originally a white member of the under-educated Southern agricultural working class; his neck would be sunburned from working in the fields all day. S&M – Sadism & Masochism Smith Rock – Simply the Mecca of international sport rock climbing; located just North of Redmond in Central Oregon, USA. spread eagle – secured in some manner by the wrists and ankles so that the person's arms and legs are stretched out completely; the person so secured resembles a large X. tomboy – a young female who prefers activities and dress more closely associated with boys than girls. went down – performed oral sex upon. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 6 This is the ninth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter III, Interlude VI, Chloe ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart... sexy... sophisticated... and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Here we meet our hero's female golf partners. Including the latest addition to the group, Chloe. Chloe's fresh off a messy divorce and looking for someone more (as she puts it) enthusiastic. Well now, we all know how 'enthusiastic' our hero can be. He steps in and completely redefines Chloe's concept of the word. He and Mr Snake with a little bit of trash talkin'. Between them, they enthuse the bejesus out of Chloe. Hang on, here we go again! Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mrs. Hart's Ache III The Ladies in My Life "...Aced my finals. Cleaned my room. Took my mother to breakfast. Played some golf with my buds. Did Chloe..." Interlude VI: Chloe Next is Chloe, my golf partner. Chloe is 36 and recently divorced (no kids). At 5'3" and about 110, she's compact and built for speed. She has an athlete's body, with slim hips, nice legs and a high, tight ass. A 34D, her tits are perfect for her frame, like cones jutting out from her chest. Each is capped with a large pink areola about the size of a silver dollar. Her areolae puff out slightly. When she's excited, they take on a rosy glow. Her nipples are fat pink buttons with little dents at the tips. Chloe wears her emotions on the front of her blouse. Any strong feeling causes her nipples to swell and tent her shirt. When she fucks, she's is a demon sprinter. You have to hold on tight when she's plugged in, because the action is fast and furious. There's no such thing as a leisurely fuck with Chloe. She knows what she wants, and she wants it Right Now. Chloe doesn't work, she collects alimony for a living, though she also designs jewelry to keep herself busy. She set up a studio in the bonus room attached to the poolhouse. Everything she does is custom. It's all sterling silver and gemstones, and she is good. The jewelry is all sold through a gallery. Her former husband is a local doctor. She divorced him because he brought too much of his work home. Too bad that he's a Gynecologist and the work he brought home was the 19-year-old daughter of a neighbor. Technically, she wasn't a patient, though he was giving her a thorough vaginal exam at the time. Not sure you can get a valid pap smear with your tongue though doc. Chloe found them in her bed together one day when her lesson cancelled. She drove home, intending to surprise him with dinner, only to find his Mercedes in the driveway. Knowing him as well as she did, she wasn't that surprised to hear sounds of passion emanating from the bedroom. Her bedroom. Her marriage bed. Bad move doc. That her husband was fucking someone other than herself was bad enough. Though he had done it before, it still hurt. But that he was fucking the latest of his bimbos in her bed really pissed Chloe off. So she did a little prep work, then tiptoed in with her video camera. Sony. Digital. Top of the line. Easy to use. 'Existing Light' mode. Lots of memory. Excellent results. I've seen the download: the doc and his little girlfriend were giving each other head with the chick on top. Very nice ass. Little bitty titties. Very boinkable. The girl was bobbing up and down on his cock, taking the head of his dick deep. Meanwhile her husband was licking the girl's fat little clit and nipping softly at her pussylips. It's a kickass vid, for a couple of amateurs. Hot Lips said it: 69 is divine. Neither of them noticed Chloe for the five minutes she was standing in the doorway shooting the action. She was even nice enough to let them cum before announcing her presence by slamming the front door on the way out. Chloe's Z3 was pulling out of the driveway before he could get out from under the girl, stumble into his shorts and make it to the door. She braked long enough to wave the video camera at him. He got her on her cellphone, but she just told him to pack a suitcase and vacate the premises. Pronto. The doc found the wall safe in his study hanging open, and knew he was well and truly fucked. The prep work she'd done included emptying the safe and gathering copies of their tax returns for the previous five years. Things like the deed to their summer home on the coast, the deed for the condo in Vail, a list of their securities, the key to their safety deposit box and her emeralds all went into a small suitcase. Chloe doesn't like diamonds. Too cold. But she has a ton of emeralds. The doc also had stacks of cash from those of his patients who preferred not to have their more personal ailments on record. Chloe needed a separate bag for the cash. What the doc didn't know, was his soon-to-be ex- wife wasn't near through with him. Bend over doc. It's Roto Rooter time. On the way to her lawyers office, she cleaned out the savings and checking accounts, as well as the safety deposit box. To really rub his face in the shit, she reported stolen all of their joint credit cards. The doc ended up sleeping on the couch in his office that night. The good doctor was massively screwed, and not just by Chloe. Turns out he was fucking the girl's mother too. That lady was totally pissed when she found that her lover was also boffing her daughter. Not that she expected him to be faithful, but she wouldn't share her shoes with her daughter, let alone a lover. The lady's husband is a little guy, not at all physically imposing. But he is very good at what he does for a living. Ruthless, you might say. He's a lawyer. He was not amused when his wife and daughter were both named as corespondents in the divorce. In the settlement, Chloe got the house. The doc got the mortgage. He also got the condo, half the registered securities and his wedding ring. He lost those though, when the neighbor sued for alienation of affection. I think he ended up with his year-old Mercedes, his wardrobe and 100K in legal bills. The doc is a very lucky man though. Between the neighbor and the neighbor's wife, his former lover, he was lucky to escape with his cojones intact. Both wanted his cock and balls stuffed, framed and mounted on their individual walls. The wife even contacted a taxidermist to see if it was possible. Just for information sake, you understand. I think that one of the reasons the doc is still singing tenor is that the neighbor's ex-wife can't afford the contract for getting his severed nuts. She was pissed. Not the least because she had signed a prenup. It's not easy going back to being a receptionist after twenty years of the good life, sipping martinis around the pool at the country club. But there's always a silver lining. The doc's practice is thriving. Apparently the publicity brought in a slew of new clients. It's a good thing, 'cause he pays a ton of money in alimony each month to Chloe. Tch, tch, tch, what price a piece of pussy. Enough about the doc. Back to Chloe. At one time Chloe was the Assistant Pro at a private golf club. She's a scratch golfer, good enough for the tour, but she hated the grind. Traveling from city to city and living out of a suitcase for nine months a year held no appeal for her. Instead, she married the doctor then spent her days playing golf and working in her studio. She and her husband tried for kids, but nada before the divorce. The high school golf team practices at her club. Chloe also got the membership at the club as part of the divorce settlement. The doc got the monthly dues payment. There is a hellovalota prime pussy laying around that place in the middle of the day. Some not-so- prime pussy too. Most of the members are professionals in the city, doctors, lawyer and businessmen. Their wives don't work. Instead, a lot of the women spend their days biffing golf balls into the creek, laying around the pool sipping cocktails and fucking the younger members of the staff while their kiddies are safely tucked in school. It would be easy for me to hop from cabaña to cabaña around the club. I could get laid five times a day, as long as Mr Snake held up. But I'm not that much of a slut. Chloe likes to tease me about it. She's offered to be my pimp, and says that we'd each make our million in about six months, then retire to the Greek islands. Chloe and I met at the club. My homies, Dan, Eric, Justin and I were scheduled to play a practice round one afternoon. For some reason Justin couldn't make it at the last minute. I was standing next to the desk in the Pro Shop when he called my cellphone. As usual, I was checking out the local quim as we talked. So sue me. I'm a guy. We do that. It comes natural. A nicely filled pair of khaki golf shorts caught my eye. The shorts belonged a small brunette with short straight hair and a sweet little ass. She was standing at a rack, flipping through women's golf shirts. As I spoke with Justin, I gave her body a once over, from her ankles up. When I glanced at the woman's face, I was a bit surprised to see that she was giving me the same measuring look. Our eyes met, and she blushed, which made me smile. I winked. She smiled, hesitated, then came over to me. She had overheard my end of the conversation. When I closed my phone, she asked me if we needed a fourth. I hate being paired with a duffer but she did look sweet. I thought what the hell, it might be fun. I said yes. I'm glad that I did. Chloe grinned, then said that she would meet us on the first tee in five minutes. Neither Dan, nor Eric were enthusiastic about the pairing either. That is, until they saw the brunette pulling her cart toward the tee. Her button nose, ready smile and moss green eyes certainly helped. But it was the way she filled her golf shirt and those pleated shorts that cinched it. Time out: Dan's a sweet guy that just looks like he could tear your arm off and enjoy eating it. He's also one of the hardest working guys I know. School work doesn't come easy for him, but he's determined to be a teacher some day. He'll make it after a career in pro ball. He is that good. At 6'3", he weighs in around 240, all muscle. He's got black hair. Like me, he has a heavy beard for a guy who just turned 18. He's an All-State line- backer, and a consensus High School All- American. Dan has a scholarship locked for an SEC team. He'd never been East of the Rockies, until he made the recruiting trip to the school. I think he's in for a bit of culture shock Our pal Eric is 6' 175, with shaggy blond hair. He's a surfer dude, but like me he's also into computers. He's a hacker, but never disturbs anything that he gets into. He just does it for fun. He's heavy into Math and Physics, and plans to get his doctorate in Cybernetics. Looking at him, you might think our absent friend Justin was a complete nerd. He's about 5'8" and maybe 140 soaking wet. But he's been into Karate since he was five. He's small, but fast and completely ruthless on the mat. On the golf course, he's also the most consistently accurate of us. He's not long off the tee, but his drives are always straight down the middle. And he has a touch with short irons that you wouldn't believe. He can get backspin off concrete. If he gets his putter figured out, he could go pro in a couple of years. Justin's real claim to fame is in his pants. Except for Mr Snake of course he has the biggest schlong around. The two of us have been close buds since we moved here after Dad retired. Time in. We all introduced ourselves, then flipped a tee. Chloe led off. We four guys play the Blue tees, and always play a two dollar Nassau when we practice. Chloe asked if she could get in on it. You'd think I'd have known better. That's what I get for letting Mr Snake think for me. We three looked at each other, and said sure. We were a bit surprised though when she teed up right there on the Blues instead of taking the Women's tee. She took a couple of practice swings, then nailed it 250 yards right down the center-left of the fairway. Her ball landed in perfect position for a soft 9-iron to the green. Dan, Eric and I looked at each other, and knew that we were in for a long afternoon. Chloe beat the shit out of all of us. I played the game of my life and shot a 72 scratch. Even with my handicap, she beat me by a stroke. Dan and Eric both shot 79's. Chloe came in at five under 67 without breaking a sweat. She either won outright or halved every hole. Nobody bothered to press. After she collected our money, she admitted that she played scratch. Duh! Her putting pulled it out for her. She's got such soft hands. She made ten foot putts like there was a groove in the green between her ball and the hole. I admire a person that is good at something, and Chloe is good at golf. She's also good at playing other fun games. She proved that a few days later when I went back for a rematch at her invitation. We played a twosome late in the afternoon, and were the last off the course, just as the sun was setting. She won again, this time by three strokes. As a consolation prize, she offered dinner at her place, a five minute drive from the clubhouse. Never one to pass up a free meal, I accepted. I called home on the way over, got Dad, told him my plans and said that I'd be back late, if at all. Dad's cool about things as long as I keep in touch. He was taking Mom out to dinner, then dancing so we made plans to have brunch together the next day. A little over three hours later, Chloe and I were curled up together in her bed. Dinner had been steaks and baked potatoes from her grill by the pool. She nuked the potatoes, then tossed a simple garden salad while I tended the steaks. Lettuce, tomatoes and cukes with a few scallions thrown in. Something told me that it was a set-up. Two huge ribeyes were in the fridge already marinating. She had a pair of new bags just my size hanging in the poolhouse dressing room. The tags were still attached. Steam was drifting off of the hot tub into the warm night air. The setting for dinner was informal. We ate on her patio under the stars, sharing a bottle of fine Merlot. One spotlight illuminated the table. The lights in the spa and pool were lit. As was one light over the door to the poolhouse. Otherwise it was dark. Very romantic. We talked about this and that. She showed me some of her jewelry. I mentioned that I knew a couple of gallery owners that might want to see her work. Time out. Liz doesn't handle jewelry in her gallery, but I hooked her up with another pal of mine, Tiffany. More about Tiff later. Chloe's stuff is selling for anywhere from $250 to $2,500. Bracelets, earrings, necklaces, rings and pendants. All made of precious and semi-precious gemstones and Sterling Silver. All original designs. She is cleaning up. Time in. Then she began talking about herself. She talked frankly about her divorce. She had met him at the club where she worked. He played there on Saturday as a guest of a member, another doctor. Her former husband was a few years older, handsome as the devil with the devils charm. He pursued her from the first moment he saw her. Flowers, dinners, little gifts and courtesies that can turn a woman's head in a second. The sex was fabulous too. According to Chloe, he was a practiced and considerate lover, in and out of bed. Time out. That's the drawback about being a good listener. Sometimes you have to hear things that you don't particularly want to know. Time in. It wasn't until after the wedding that she realized how much of a hound he was. The chase was everything to him. Once he'd gotten his bone, he lost interest and was on to the next. It wasn't six months into the marriage when she knew that he was out chasing fresh pussy. More than anything, if pissed her off. Chloe knew her own worth. It was his problem and not a reflection on her. She put up with it for another six months before taking him down. Even then, she didn't hate him. She pitied him. I didn't particularly want to hear more about her former husband, but she changed the subject herself. Thank you Lord. There's such a thing as too much information. Chloe talked about golf, how she had been playing since she was a young teen. I told her about climbing and flying. She made me promise to take her on a trip one day. After dinner she cleared the table while I cleaned up the grill. As she finished in the kitchen, I slipped out of my clothes and into the spa. I laid back with my arms outstretched along the rim and closed my eyes. The bubbles shooting against me felt so fine. Shortly Chloe came out in a sweet little mini-bikini with a mesh coverup. I learned later that Chloe wears a nice little maillot around the pool at the club. But at home in her own pool, she is stunning in that skimpy pink mesh bikini. I opened my eyes just long enough to get a look at what little there was of her suit. Her full breasts strained against the triangles of fabric, nipples first. Her excitement was showing. Time out. Don't you just love watching a beautiful woman move? Particularly when the woman has little or nothing covering her body and her breasts stand out from her chest? The heavy breasts bounce upon her chest, each bounce sending residual tremors rippling through the flesh. God knew what he was doing when he made some women look the way they do. For sure. Time in. Chloe's breast bobbed slightly with each step. The cups of her top muted the tremors. I just knew from watching her take those few steps that her breasts would have that same sensuous liquid quiver that large firm breasts have when naked. Her ass had that same fluidity; the same appearance when in motion. Compact and curved; full round without being heavy. Gorgeous. So much fun to watch; killer to touch; to hold; to fondle. I smiled to myself, noting that Mr Snake was awake again. She lost the coverup and stepped into the bubbling water. It was her move. Chloe took the opportunity to slide onto the seat beside me. She laid her head on my arm, then relaxed to the swirling water. I don't think we said two words for five or ten minutes. Then I asked a key question of my own. "Dinner was choice, but I get the feeling that you planned this evening. Did you have something more in mind?" Chloe gave me a shy smile. I think she would have shown a blush but for the flush from the hot water. "James, you're as quick as I thought you'd be... And yes, I did have something more in mind. I've had my fill of older men... gentle-men (her emphasis)... I'm looking for someone more..." She paused as though choosing her words with care. "...more 'enthusiastic' I guess you'd say... much more enthusiastic..." She looked up. That sparkle was back in her eyes. "I've seen you and your friends around the club. You look exactly like the guy I had in mind. Playing that first round with you was the perfect opportunity to get to know you better." She looked away. That made me think she was blushing again. It was hard to tell in the hot tub, but her eyes were flashing. She glanced my way, then settled her eyes on the fence before she went on. "The only thing is... well, you're younger than I though you were when I first saw you. I thought you guys were in your twenties at least... The way you talk and act. You're not like any guy I remember when I was as young as you are..." Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 6 I grinned. "Well I've got to say you're not much like any girl at school either... You've got the body for it, but you're lightyears ahead of those girls in lots of other things." Chloe's eyes were twinkling. She was likin' this conversation. "How so?" She asked ingenuously. "What kind of things..." "Oh the simple things," I answered with a smile playing on my lips. "Things like intelligence, wit, sophistication, grace, charm, and, best of all, you make a mean garden salad." She nudged my arm. "My goodness, you do have a great line for a young guy..." There are times to take it slow, and there are other times... This was one of those "other" times. Chloe had made her move and it was time for me to make mine. She'd been hinting all evening. It was time to take her up on her offer. She was ready, though I think she was a bit surprised when I reached to her neck and slipped the knot from her bikini top. She looked down to see the cups fall away from her chest. We could both see her pink nipples tighten to full red-ripe berries. We contemplated her bare tits together while I slipped the knot from her back and threw her top onto the deck. This time I know she blushed. Like I said, Chloe is small and built for speed. Chest deep in hot water, it was easy to slip a hand beneath her butt and lift her onto my lap facing me. I had one of her turgid nipples in my mouth before she could say a word. Then the word was "Mmmhh! Yes!" She knelt over my lap with knees splayed. I massaged her little bare asscheeks as I nibbled at her naked breasts, sucking at those berries with a nip now and again to bring her to the edge. Her arms came to rest on my shoulders. Her eyes closed as her head fell back. She linked her fingers behind my neck and arched her back, offering her chest to my lips. Her nipples were pebbles on my tongue, as hard and bursting as any I'd tasted. Chloe had made it clear. She was hot and wet. I knew just what she wanted: rough sex. Right now. I squeezed her asscheeks, letting her feel my strength and need. She moaned, eager for more. If we hadn't been in the spa, the crotch of her bikini would have been soaked. While she was distracted, I slipped the bows from her hips, letting her bikini loose. Just like that, she was naked. Chloe came aware of her nakedness when she felt the knots pull loose. Her eyes popped open and a shudder raced through her body as her bikini drifted away from her hips. I could tell that she was anxious about being naked outdoors. But when she lifted her arms to cover herself, I grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands behind her back, arching her back, forcing her naked breasts to jut up and out into the night air. Then I took advantage of her helplessness. I sucked half of her tit into my mouth and began lashing the nipples with my tongue. Then I captured the other and gave it the same treatment. Back and forth between the two lovelies I played as Chloe writhed in my arms. Her head fell back again. She moaned, murmuring protests as she tugged at my grip, trying half-heartedly to free herself. We both knew that she didn't really want me to stop. I held her wrists in one hand, then cupped her breast with the other. "It's simple Chloe." I tweaked the crinkled nipple grown large from her breast. "All you have to do is tell me to stop. Give me the word, any word. I'll let go as soon as you tell me that you really do want me to stop." Then I went back to nuzzling her breasts. Chloe shivered as I nibbled on her nubs. "It's so naughty", she said, "But, oh please don't stop... You're too young... we're outside... I really shouldn't... but don't stop. Please..." Time out. The doc had never thought to take her outdoors. Silly man. Chloe is hot for public sex. The chance of being seen really turns her on. Though in truth, there wasn't much of a chance that night. There's an eight foot privacy fence surrounding the yard. All the houses in the neighborhood are big ranch-style layouts set on double lots. The spa is sunk into the deck fronting the pool, between the cabana and the house. There's only one window in another house with a clear view to the action. It looked like the attic window of a house about a block away. There was a better chance that someone would hear what was going on. Chloe is not quiet when she's excited. Time in. Time out. Oh, one other little thing: I had no way of knowing that a young freshman girl from my school lives in the house with the attic. We were seen alright. Ashley had a perfect view. Ashley's into astronomy... and spying on the neighbors. Her dad had set up her telescope in that window for her to watch the stars. Ashley prefers to watch people. She saw us get into the spa, focused in, then pulled out her cell phone: "...like my parents are out and I'm babysitting at home, like my little sister's in bed and there's like something good you're gonna wanna see. Like, bring binoculars! The others are coming too... Hurry...!" Ten minutes later, her girlfriends had gathered for the show. Hot popcorn, cold soda and live porn. I had my own fan club for the last three months of my senior year. It's really bogus having five freshman girls following you around all the time, breathing heavy. My asshole compadres started calling me "Bubble-Gum Boy". Time in. Shorts, bags, cutoffs, whatever. A man's pants don't come off easy when wet. Particularly if there's a lady straddling his lap. Better that he start out sans whatever. Sometimes a guy's gotta be bold. The bags were still hanging from a hook in the poolhouse with the tag attached. When Chloe came out, I was already bare-assed. Anyway, about that moment, Mr Snake made his presence known. Her eyes popped open again when she felt him standing tall and brushing against the bare lips of her sex. Chloe either shaved or waxed her puss. Mr Snake felt no fur. He was so happy with that he throbbed. To say that she was startled is putting it mildly. Chloe pulled her arms out of my grip and reached down to grasp my shaft. The bubbling water hid Mr Snake from view, but she measured his length and girth by touch. Her eyes went wide when she realized the size of dick she was holding in her hand. Astonishment, alarm and avarice chased across her face in fluid succession. I think she was surprised how suddenly I had gotten us both naked. But she was completely stunned by the apparent dimensions of my dick. Mr Snake was a lot bigger than she'd expected. Hot chlorinated water is not good for the health of a woman's flora and fauna. Nor is it good for maintaining her natural lubrication. Chloe is small. I suspected rightly that her pussy was in scale with the rest of her body. She would need a lot of lubrication to handle the size of Mr Snake. While she was distracted again, I looped my arms between her thighs and stood up. Her legs were spread wide to either side. My forearms supported her thighs and my hands were full of her little naked asscheeks. Chloe squealed as she let got of my cock and grabbed for my neck. Holding tight, her naked breasts pressed to my chest, she shuddered. She was bare to the world in my arms. I was taking her as she had never before been taken. She murmured her excitement and need, rubbing her bare pussy against my belly. I carried her across the tub, then sat down on the top step. My forearms were balanced on my thighs, holding her weight easily. With her knees caught in the crook of my arms, her legs dangled behind my back. She was open and vulnerable, with her legs splayed wide. I held her bare ass in my hands, gently squeezing the firm globes. To maintain her balance, she had to hold onto my shoulders. "Oh Jesus! You're gonna do me out here, aren't you...!? You're gonna fuck me outside... in my own backyard...!" She breathed, obviously terrified and thrilled at the same time. "Yes." I murmured in her ear. "I'm gonna fuck you right here... right now... in front of the world... and there's nothing you can do about it... You're gonna love every minute of it... I can't wait to hear you cum..." Chloe moaned, shivering with terror, lust and anticipation. I lifted her ass slightly and ran her pussylips up and down my shaft, caressing her clit with each stroke. One pass and she got into the rhythm. Pulling herself up and down, rubbing her pussy against my erection. In that position, she didn't have much leverage. But what little she had, she used, whimpering with each pass. Soon her juices were flowing. I could feel her vagina opening. The lips of her little pussy separated, enveloping Mr Snake to either side. Tremors ran through her petite body as her swollen clit slid along my shaft. Her eyes were closed in concentration. Her face was turned up, half away, baring her throat. Her bottom lip was caught in her even white teeth. The muscles of her neck corded with effort as she pleasured herself against me, making urgent noises in her throat. She was lost in the sensation, in her own little world. When she was good and wet, I lifted her a bit higher and brought her down on me. The weight of her body impaled her on my cock. Chloe stifled a shriek as the bursting head of my dick split the lips of her sex and surged into the tight and juicy entry of her puss. I was about three inches deep before she could react. She lifted herself, but didn't have the leverage to pull herself off my cock completely. The mouth of her vagina, stretched wide, still gripped the swollen head. Mr Snake was in his element, and wouldn't come out willingly, not without finishing his job. She strained upwards, trying to hold herself high, but that only left her bare breasts vulnerable to my lips and teeth. I captured a nipple, sucking the crinkled nub into my mouth. While she writhed, moaning vague protests, I set my teeth on the swollen berry then began lashing it with my tongue. "God...!!! Oh s-stop...! Don... Ohhhh d.... Mmmm...! It's too much...! T-too big...! Oooh...! Sooo b-big...! Tremors ran through her breasts with each swipe. I felt her loosen a touch as she lost herself in the new sensation. Before she could get a handle on it, I pulled her down onto my cock again. A desperate moan burst from her lips as Mr Snake surged inwards again, deeper this time. Her pussy was a velvet glove, a half-size too small gripping my prick. Her juices were leaking down, coating my shaft. Chloe rocked upwards, but I followed her, jogging my hips up, holding her impaled. Imploring mews hissed from her lips as the head of my cock pressed deeper into her tight slick sheath. "Jesusss...! Mmmmhhhh...! Tooo...! G-give't tooo mmm...!" Helpless in my arms, she surrendered, jamming her little body down, engulfing my erection. I let her take as much as she could, no longer forcing. The sensation of her pussy sliding down onto my cock was heavenly. But I knew that she would bottom out quickly if I wasn't careful. I held her little ass in my hands and pumped her body up and down on my cock. she couldn't do anything but hang on for the ride. God she was (is!) tight! Her little ass flexed, pumping with me as I fucked her. Insistent tremors chased through her body as her pussy milked my shaft. As she rode me harder, I felt the head of my cock kiss the petals of her cervix. She was taking about eight inches within, and loving every bit of it. "God girl...! You've got a tight little pussy...! Just the right size for my fat prick...! You like feelin' it sliding it... don't cha...! stretching your tight little puss... fucking you... making you feel good... good 'n nasty... nasty girl... fuckin' in public..." Chloe gave me that wild, feral look. You know, the one that a woman gives you when the head of your cock is churning deep in her pussy. She knows she's yours to take any way you want, and she wants it any way she can get it. "You're such a bad girl... nasty girl... I love stripping you... taking your bikini off... seeing you bare-assed... naked... outside... fucking you silly in public... where someone might see you... where they can hear you cum..." She gasped and I felt the walls of her vagina clamp down on me as the first orgasm ripped through her body. Chloe got off on hearing me talking trash to her. The look in her eyes brought out the wild in me too. I gripped her thighs tightly and bounced her on Mr Snake. I pumped her little body up and down on my cock as she climaxed. "Nasty girl, you're gonna look so hot... so yummy... when I take you on the course... I'm gonna bend you over the bench at the fifteenth... your bare ass up in the air wiggling... while I fuck you... ram my big dick up your tight little pussy..." Chloe whimpered helplessly, pumping her ass all the harder. Time out. Fifteenth Tee: a short par four. The tee is set in a little grove. There's a secluded glade back behind with a bench, a water fountain and a bit of privacy. Not much; still dangerous; but extremely hot to a lady like Chloe... Well... to be fair... hot to me too. Time in. "...one day soon I'm gonna take you like that... I'm gonna yank that cute little skirt you wear up over your ass... pull your little panties down to your sweet thighs... hoist that naked ass of yours in the air... and fuck that juicy little pussy right there... in the middle of the round... I'm gonna give you a handicap girl... you're gonna hafta play the last four holes bare-assed beneath your skirt... with your little panties in my pocket... and my cum leaking from your pussy... running down your thighs... hope no one notices when we get back to the clubhouse... nasty girl..." Scored an ace with that one. Off she went again. She was so lost in her orgasm, she was almost in convulsions. Keening urgently, she bounced on my lap, now fucking herself on my cock. All I had to do was cradle her bare ass in my hands. But it was all I could do to hold on to her. She was beserko. She was cumming so hard, the muscles in her pussy were rippling. That pulled me over the edge with her. I did my best to hold the noise down, but Chloe was beyond caring. Anyone within a block radius must have heard her. When she felt Mr Snake pulsing with the jets of my cum, Chloe ripped out a wail and came for the third time. That one must have been heard two blocks away. I grabbed her hips and held her down tight as I jetted into her, bathing her cunt with my cream. She strained against me mewing frantically as she felt the jets shooting into her. Her pussy rippled again, pulling at Mr Snake. She held that pose for a moment as her orgasm peaked, then finally collapsed in my arms as her pussy milked the last drops from my shaft. Panting together, we sat there slumped for a few moments. Our hearts were racing. She could barely hold on as I slipped down the steps again, into the bubbling hot water. I rose far enough to let loose her legs, but she clung to me as I tilted back, half laying on the steps. Her legs floated out, still spread wide. Though shrunken a bit, Mr Snake was still firmly ensconced in her puss. I caressed her bare back, gentling her down as she slowly recovered from her multiple cums. We were butt-deep in the bubbling water. She laid bonelessly across my chest with her arms wrapped loosely around my waist. A last tremor ran through her body when a deflated Mr Snake finally slipped from her pussy. We laid there for awhile, just drifting; remembering. It had been a memorable fuck for both of us. Chloe finally stirred, coming back to life again. She crossed her arms over my chest, then rested her chin on her wrist. Little beads of sweat trickled down her face. She started to say something, the hesitated. I took the lead. "What's up, Chloe? What are you thinking about?" I had a good idea what was coming. Inevitably she blushed, hesitating. "I just wanted to say that... this is wonderful. I'm having such a great time with you. I hope you are too..." She hadn't told me what she had been thinking, but I'm patient. I knew it would come out eventually. "No worries lawydie!" with an echo of my Australian grandfather's voice. "Lawike I s'id, dinnah was prahime... and 't d'zuhrt even bettah!" She blushed again, but grinned, then strained upward, offering her mouth for a kiss. I obliged. Satisfied for the moment, she laid her chin on her wrists again. I knew that she'd eventually get around to telling me what she was thinking. She'd find a way. We laid there together for another half hour or so, just enjoying the water. Chloe wanted to talk so she reached over and shut off the jets. Suddenly we could hear the night insects chirping and the muted roar of far off traffic. A freight train moaned in the distance. The relative quiet fit our mood. We laid there and talked about golf and school and flying and jewelry making. We discovered that we both loved to dance, and I promised to take her out to tango soon. She laughed until she realized that I was serious. Then she got excited. She explained that her ex didn't dance so she hadn't been out since before she got married. After that, Chloe got quiet again. We laid there for a few minutes, recovering. Chloe floated out, legs extended with her breasts nestled to my chest. I could tell that she was reliving the event, and contemplating further adventures. After a few minutes of silence, listening to the night, she started talking again. We had talked about a lot of things. Everything but was foremost in her thoughts. Finally she laid her head on my chest and asked me the question that had been bugging her. With the side of her face pressed against my chest, Chloe opened up. "James... I-I've never been fucked like that..." She blushed. "Multiple orgasms... I've heard of them of course. But it's a new thing for me..." She looked up, peering deeply into my eyes. "Look. Were you just bullshitting me... or would you really take my panties down and... do me... fuck me... right there on the course?" I gave her my best "wicked" smile. "Hell yes! Of course I will. I told you that I would, didn't I...!" I ran my hands over her bare back, down to her ass. "I can't wait to see you. To feel my dick in you. You'll look some kinda sweet, bent over half- dressed, with your naked ass in the air as I pump my dick in your tight pussy..." Ladies and Gentlemen. At the second hole, James Masterson has just scored another ace. Chloe was hot again. That same look of astonishment, alarm and avarice chased across her face. Her cheeks were flaming. She shivered and buried her face in my chest again. She squeezed me, pressing her naked breasts to my belly, rubbing herself against me. From below came her muffled voice barely audible above the chirps of the cicadae. "When you talk like that... It gets me so hot...! What would happen if we got caught...!? Jesus! Geoffrey would have a conniption!" Time out. Geoffrey Parks is the current Chairman of the Membership Committee at the country club. He's a putz. He married the bosses daughter, Marilyn, a complete bitch-on-wheels. Marilyn hates everyone, particularly women that are prettier than she. Which is basically every female in the place, including her ankle-biters. You know the kind. Killer body and sour face. A brown bag special. But she also holds the purse strings. Tight. And stuck up!?! That woman is so buji, she makes Leona Helmsley look friendly. Marilyn and Veronica Hart would get along well. I found out later from Chloe that Geoffrey's been hitting on her hard since her divorce. Time in. She began kissing my chest and sucking on my nipples. Just to egg her on a bit, I whispered in her ear: "I'm looked forward to watching you on your knees sucking my cock before I take your panties down and fuck you. She shivered again, then looked up to me and nibbled on my chin. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 6 "You really know how to get me wet, don't you?! You bastard! I hope you and that monster cock of yours recover quickly, 'cause you're not getting out of here until I get another taste. I'm going to fuck your socks off." I squeezed the cheeks of her bare rump. "Nope! Sorry. Only one to a customer. Come back next week maybe we'll have more for you then..." She stuck out her tongue as she reached down to wrestle with Mr Snake, who by then had come back a bit. He wasn't quite ready, but he was gaining strength by the minute. Chloe's hand caressing him didn't hurt the process any. "Sorry my ass, buster! You're friend here seems to feel differently about it. Why don't I just go down and ask him what he wants to do, huh?" With that, she slid down my chest, took a deep breath and slipped beneath the surface of the water. She greeted Mr Snake with on open-mouth kiss, sucking his head deep inside. No doubt. He was waking up again. She stayed down there sucking on my dick for about a minute. Great lungs! But I think I already said that. Mr Snake was wide awake by the time I pulled her up again. Gasping for air, she wiped the water from her eyes and threw her head back flinging droplets from her hair. The waves had straightened, leaving her hair tight and streaming against her head. She laughed. "Your friend down there begs to differ with you, James. He plans to stay for an encore performance, no matter what the head office has to say about it." Her nipples were hard again, rasping against the hairs on my chest. I'd controlled the first round. It was time to see what Chloe could do. I'd set the stage, then let her take over. I pulled her face to mine and kissed her. Chloe slipped her arms around my neck and molded her naked body to mine. I held her bare butt with one hand and held her head with the other. A soft mew escaped her lips as we kissed. Her plump mons was pressed to my belly. Mr Snake nestled in the furrow of her asscheeks, wide awake and ready to fuck. She reached behind to stroke him as we kissed, running her cupped hand lightly up and down his length. Chloe does have soft hands. After a few minutes of touch and taste, I told her to hold tight. Then I sat up, cupped her asscheeks and heaved to my feet. She squealed, laughing as I nuzzled her breasts. I carried her out of the tub dripping, then stretched out on a lounger by the pool with her astride my belly. I pulled her head down to a kiss, running my free hand along her back and bare butt as our tongues danced. Her skin was warm from the water; smooth and alive. Chloe loves to be touched. She pressed her breasts to my chest and ran her fingers through my hair as we kissed. I felt her nipples grow fat with passion, dimpling my chest. In no time, she was ready and eager again. She broke the kiss and scooted back slightly, sitting upright on my thighs. Her legs were doubled beneath her, separated by my hips. I laid with my arms folded behind my head and watched. Once she was seated with her bare butt perched on my thighs, she peered down between our bodies and got her first look at my dick. She got that stunned look again as she beheld Mr Snake for the first time. Time out. Apparently the girls in the bleacher seats were impressed too. Madison had to sit down for a few minutes. She got dizzy. The other girls gave her a running commentary until she recovered. She was the first to slip her hand into her panties. Jeanie, Blake, Michelle and Ashley pretended to be shocked, but soon followed suit. All of them got themselves off watching us fuck. Three of them for the first time. Damn! Now I'm picking cherries by remote control! Time in. "My God! If we hadn't done it already, I wouldn't have believed we could get that monster cock of yours to fit in my little pussy!" Chloe said wonderingly as she stroked Mr Snake. "But this I've got to try again." Then she attacked me. Like I said, fast and furious. Chloe curled down and popped the head of my dick in her warm sweet mouth. Ahhh! Heaven!!! Her bare tits were bouncing as her head bobbed up and down over my dick. She supported herself with one hand on my thigh, then took the head deep, sucking hard at the shaft. Her tongue slithered up, down and around, coating the shaft with her saliva. Chloe's lips stretched wide to take as much as she could. Whatever was left, she pumped with her little fist. Urgent mews escaped her throat as she worked my cock. Mr Snake was in his element again, throbbing with pleasure. Suddenly Chloe was in a hurry again. She sprang up, lifting herself high on her knees and began rubbing the fat head against her pussylips. I groaned at the sensation, then lay back to watch her pleasure herself. Time out. My first impression was correct: Chloe's little puss was completely hairless. She didn't like the look when she bought the bikini. She started shaving, but was constantly broken out and itchy. A girlfriend persuaded her to try waxing. She liked the look, and kept it. Between you and me, I have to say that she has the cutest little pussy it's been my pleasure to fuck. The outer lips are fat little muffins that close together, leaving just the thin dark line between. When opened, they reveal thin and delicate inner lips beneath the pearl of her clit. She has almost no prepuce. Maybe that's why she's always on a hair trigger: her clit is almost constantly exposed. Time in. I lifted a knee to give Chloe something to hang on to as she ran the head of my cock up and down the divide of her puss. Her juices were running, coating the head of my dick in no time. Constant thrills ran through her body, making her naked breasts quiver as she rubbed the head against her swollen clit. Like I said, Chloe is not quiet when she's intent on her own pleasure. Whimpering with need, her eyes closed and her lower lip was caught in her teeth as she concentrated. Her back arched throwing her naked breasts up and out. Her hips jogged back and forth furiously. Her breasts bobbed and quivered with each stroke. It was almost as if she was trying to see how much she could stand. She held the pose, teasing herself (and me) until I was almost frantic to grab her ass and plunge my cock into her pussy. I linked my fingers behind my neck to keep from doing just that. But she surrendered to her need before I lost it and surrendered to mine. Chloe opened her eyes, looked down on me and gave me that feral look again as she pushed the swollen head of my dick through the divide of her sex and into the slick entry of her vagina. She locked eyes with me and let out a wail as her pussy stretched to take me inside. God she's tight! I lifted my other knee to give her purchase, and she reached back, cocking her arms behind. She grasped my knees. With a muted gasp, she forced herself down onto my erection. Down, then quickly up again, then down farther. Soon she found her pace, bouncing on my cock. She was fucking herself, kneeling there over my prone body, impaled on my dick. She pumped her little ass furiously as she bounced on my cock. Up and down, in and out, she set a maniac pace, mewing her passion. Her tits bounced too, counterpoint to her ass. As her ass went down, her lovelies went up. As it went up, they came down. If possible, Mr Snake grew stiffer as I watched her beautiful boobies bounce. Chloe had her eyes shut tight again. A look of frustrated need and passion to the point of pain came over her face. I controlled my need to thrust, knowing that I'd bottom out quickly if I started fucking her in earnest. Instead, I clutched her hips. Not to guide or force, but so that she would feel my hands on her bare skin. She shuddered at the touch and redoubled her pace. I groaned at the sensation of her pussy gripping my shaft. As she pumped her ass, I began a running commentary. "Damn, you look sexy pumpin' your little ass like that... I'd like to have jpegs of you now, naked, tits bouncing... fucking yourself on my fat dick...!" That did it. Moaning urgently Chloe pistoned her little pussy on my dick. My fingers dimpled the padded flesh of her hips. The muscles of her vagina rippled as she launched. The neighborhood knew she was cumming again. She was lost in the throes of that climax when I waxed trashy again. "You know that I'm gonna take your panties off before we go dancing, don't you...? I want your pussy bare for me beneath your dress... Who knows, I might make you flash the crowd when I spin you..." Geez she was hot for that. Taking her dancing was going to be a thrill for both of us. Her pussy clamped down on my dick like a vice, as her orgasm roared through her body again. The sensation was too much for me. I launched with her. I clutched her hips, forcing her down on my cock as Mr Snake started spitting cum. Chloe dropped her hands to my chest and wriggled her ass frantically, milking the cum from my balls. She wailed. I roared. We both lost ourselves in our shared climax. Neither cared about the noise we were making. Apparently the noise was considerable. When Chloe finally slid down from her orgasm and collapsed on my chest, we heard in the distance faint applause and a few whistles coming from different directions around the neighborhood. Chloe flushed bright pink down to her bare boobs and buried her face in my chest. But I noticed that her eyes were bright too. Time out. The most strident whistles came from the bleacher seats. Michelle curls her tongue with her pinkie fingers and whistles like a steam engine. No doubt she got a taste of her own cum when she did it. Time in. Chloe crouched there panting for a few minutes after the applause died down. I caressed her back until her breathing slowed. Then she pulled back to let thoroughly sated Mr Snake slide free. A shiver ran through her as the head slipped from her pussy. She stretched out, sprawled over me. She pressed her face to my chest again and cupped my shoulders. I think her nipples finally relaxed. At least I no longer felt them rasping against my belly. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes, just relaxing in the warm night air. After a while Chloe stirred. "James, you make me do things I've never done before... It's so hot...! The only problem is, I don't quite know how to face my neighbors again...!" She looked up with a grin, her face still flushed with... what? Embarrassment? Excitement? Exertion? All three...? "...but I can't wait to do it again some night...!" Nothing more was said, but both of us agreed that the show was over for the night. If anything more happened, it would be indoors, beyond the audio range of the neighbors, lest we have a visit from the cops. Time out. Come to think of it now, beyond the visual range too. Maybe a good thing. I'd shown enough to the girls in the skybox. Too much maybe. Time in. Chloe got up from atop me, then leaned down for a kiss. I caressed her breasts as we kissed, then smacked her proffered ass lightly and told her that I was going to take a quick dip. She jumped slightly but her eyes got that juicy look. Apparently Chloe was another lady that liked to be spanked. While she was gathering her suit from the deck and my clothes from the cabaña, I dove into the pool. The water was warmer than the night air, but refreshing. I swam a couple of laps, then did one swan dive off the board. I think I surprised Chloe. I know I surprised the neighbors next door. It was a perfect swan. I came off the board and soared about ten feet high. I seemed to hang in the air with my arms outstretched, my head up and my toes perfectly pointed. I brought my arms together, tucked my head in and knifed into the water with hardly a splash. I was proud of that dive, particularly considering the distraction. Chloe was rinsing off as I pulled myself out of the pool. She has an outdoor shower in a little rock garden, next to the glass door to the bedroom. It's made of tight cedar latticework. The walls rose to my chin, which means Chloe would have to jump to see over the top. It's big enough for three, and way big enough for two. Particularly if one is Chloe's size. I joined her and soaped her back. Then her front. She returned the favor. She finished while I was rinsing. Chloe had a towel ready when I shut the water off. She was wrapped in one, with the ends tucked over her breasts. I let her wrap mine around me, then kissed her as she tucked the ends together over my belly. As she took my hand and led me into the house, she asked if I would stay the night. I said sure. She pulled a short white terrycloth from a hook on the bathroom door and I traded for the towel. She donned a wraparound that fastened with a Velcro strip above her breasts and barely covered her bottom. As she disappeared into the bathroom, she told me to check the fridge for something to drink while she put herself back together. She asked for a glass of white wine. Guinness! Cans. Not as good as on tap, but better than any other beer even so. I switched on her CD Player. Brubeck. I wandered around her front room, checking out her collection of books until she came out. Hair dry and makeup perfect again. I handed her the glass of wine and we traded another kiss. Sweet lips. We spent the night together in her bed, exploring her penchant for spanking and other interesting positions. Even Mr Snake was exhausted before that night was over. Chloe wears sheer babydolls to bed. She has quite a collection. She says they keep her tits warm. Uh huh... Sure... More like to keep her neck warm. There's something about a half-dressed woman. I guess that's my kink: I'm a nut for sexy lingerie. Something hidden, even when I can see it through sheer material makes my ears roar. Chloe also likes to cuddle when she sleeps. She is cute fitted spoon-fashion against me. With that filmy-nylon-clad butt nestled against him, Mr Snake would have found it hard to rest, if he wasn't so worn out. Time out. I've got two other items of note for you: First item: Chloe has also fallen in love with my tongue. Apparently the good doctor, for all his skill as a lover did not include giving good head in his repertoire. Oh, he liked to get it, but wasn't very good at giving it. Maybe for good reason. Chloe damn near strangled me when she came. I may have to tie her legs down the next time. Hmmm. That has possibilities. Second item: the distraction during the dive. When we got in bed, I told Chloe that her neighbor had seen me at the height of my dive. We laughed about it. She said that she had enough to explain to the neighbors. One more little thing wouldn't make it any harder. I didn't tell Chloe the whole story. At the top of the dive, when I was poised perfectly, I focused on the house next door. What I saw shook me, but I held the pose. Maybe I put a little bit extra into it. Bit it wasn't until I came up for air that it registered completely: The lady next door had been standing at her window. She had a female friend with her. The room behind them was dark, but I could see their faces clearly. I could also see that they weren't wearing much. Like a couple of sheer robes. Something like that. Anyway, they were near nude, with their arms around each other. Apparently they were still listening, hoping to catch the audio of any further action from Chloe's place. They got the live-action feed instead. I guess the sight of a naked man flying isn't a common one in that neighborhood. Of course I had been fully illuminated from below by the light in the pool. The two ladies caught the whole show, and their eyes and mouths were six perfect circles of astonishment. I decided to forego more diving. I was betting that Chloe wouldn't hear about that one. But I would. I hadn't seen Dr Teasley so surprised since the first time I pulled her into my arms, lifted the rear of her skirt and gave her a smack on the ass. I've never seen Dr Laura Marx, ED.D so surprised. She's the Principal of my school. Oops. Dr Laura joined Dr Lillian and I for our next conference. Very trim body for a woman forty- something: 5-7 about 140 in her bra and panties. Nice tits. Sweet pussy. Very nice ass. Turns out she's into wearing exotic lingerie and sucking cock. She likes to be spanked too. Time in. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms ace – golf term; hole-in-one; put the ball in the cup with one stroke. ankle-biters – Tiny, usually very nervous species of dogs; from among the breeds of dogs labeled 'Toy'. babydoll(s) – a short, sexy, usually sheer nightdress with a tight bodice from which the loose skirt flows to approximately the top of a woman's thighs. bags – Short for 'baggys'; loose (voluminous) shorts or swim trunks. berserko – berserk; not just crazy, but wild crazy; frenzied. Blue (tees) – most golf courses have a series of tees for each hole, for use depending upon the skill of the individual: Black (longest) for scratch or professionals; Blue for low handicappers; White for the average golfer; Red (shortest) for the average female golfer. boff(ing) – fuck; to engage in sexual intercourse. bogus – extremely bad; the worst. boinkable – sweet; pretty; beautiful; sexy; fuckable. boobies – female breasts. brown bag special – a female with an ugly face atop a sweet body; you'd want to cover her head with a brown paper bag before fucking her. bud(s) – buddy(ies); friend(s); pal(s) buji – stuck up; elitist; snobby. cicadae – insects; the males produce a loud buzzing sound. cream – sperm; cum. duffer – inexperienced or beginner-level golfer. ED.D – Doctorate of Education. flora and fauna (female) – the healthy or 'good' bacteria normally to be found within a woman's vagina. fur – female pubic hair. halved – in golf, 'tied'; two or more golfers playing the same hole at the same time take the same number of shots to get the ball in the cup; handicaps apply. handicap – a rating system utilized by the Professional Golfer's Association to rate one's relative skill as a golfer. Hot Lips – Major Margaret 'Hot Lips' O'Houlihan (as played by Sally Kellerman in the 1970 film M.A.S.H.). jpegs - Joint Photographic Experts Group (also abbreviated jpg) and pronounced jay-peg. JPEG is compression technique for colour images and photographs that balances compression against loss of detail in the image. The greater the com- pression, the more information is lost (this is called Lossy compression). killer – better than great; fantastic. maillot – women's one-piece bathing suit. nada – Spanish for 'nothing'. Nassau – a form of gambling played on a golf course, i.e. $2 Nassau means $2 is bet on the front side (9 holes), $2 on the back side, and $2 on all eighteen; the game can be played individually, or with teams; see the internet for further details. nuked – cooked in a microwave oven. Phoebe – Phoebe Buffay; as in 'Friends'. picking cherries – performing a sexual act with a virgin. pinkie fingers – the smallest fingers on either hand. pissed or pissed off – Angry (very); also very intoxicated. prenup – prenuptual agreement; a contract between the prospective bride and groom prior to the marriage, which details exactly what the individuals can expect to receive in the event the marriage ends, including penalty clauses for minor errors of ommission or commission – like adultery. prepuce – the fold of skin covering the clitoris; similar to a man's foreskin. press – golf term; to 'press' a bet, means to extend the wager; to start a new wager from the point of the ' prime – better than the best; hot beyond hot; see 'choice'. putz – Yiddish for 'penis' or 'dick'. quim – vagina; the inner passage of a woman's vulva. ride cowgirl – sexual intercourse with the woman straddling the loins of her partner. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 7 Author’s note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. In this interlude we take up again with Erin, the one-time surprise guest at the birthday party thrown by Margot (see ch III interlude I & IA). James is scheduled to attend his High School Prom. Not that he particularly wants to, but it is a command performance being that he is the Student Body President. Erin had been bitterly disappointed with the outcome of her Prom. James needs a date. One plus one equals… …three?!? Tune in. You’ll see. James rides again...! Or rather, the ladies do. Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mrs. Hart’s Ache III The Ladies in My Life “…Made dinner a couple of times. Took Erin to the Prom. Erin did me…” Interlude VII: Erin Next up is one of the latest of the ladies in my life Erin. You remember Erin, don’t you: Margot’s birthday surprise for me? The young lady that I rescued from attack in the college parking lot one evening? Time out. Three not-so-handsome gents out on a big night were intent on, if not changing her religion, at least proselytizing the shit out of Erin over the hood of her car. Forcefully proselytizing her. I happened by and stepped in to have a few words with the guys. Very few words. Mostly fists. The sides of my hands. My heel. Oh, and the ball of my right foot. I don’t think they ever did get Moe’s kneecap back in the original position. I hear that the other cons call him ‘gimpy’. Larry wore a neck brace for about two months. Stupid had a shoulder reconstructed, as well as a number of stitches in his ass. That must have hurt like hell. The ER docs had to take their time getting Stupid’s knife out of his buttcheek. It was buried hilt deep. Razor edge. Sharp point. He managed to drive it in pretty hard. Into the bone actually. That was the problem: the bone locked on the knife when he stabbed himself. With my assistance, of course. You know me: anything I can do to help a guy learn the errors of his ways. Anyway, you can read about it in the first chapter of this Magnum Opus. Time in. Just to refresh your memory a bit, Erin is a small lady, about 5’3” and maybe 110 pounds. She’s 22, though she looks much younger. Dark blond hair, cut short and streaked by the sun. Slight build. A 34C, her tits almost look too big for her body. Prior to our scene with Margot, Erin played strictly for the other team. Her few lovers had been of the female persuasion. I know that true, because Mr Snake was the first visitor to make it past the entry of her little puss. Hymen intactus. Erin was a virgin until about midway through our three-some. I took her cherry with her enthusiastic assistance. I can say that with all honesty, because Erin was on top, riding cowgirl. Not Little House on the Prairie either. More like Calamity Jane. Calamity Jane on a cocaine. It’s ironic that because of the attempted rape, Erin… well, Erin didn’t ‘change her religion’, but you could say she did go from ‘Orthodox’ to ‘Reformed’. After our scene with Margot, I’d have to say that Erin is bisexual, rather than strictly lesbian. We had a very good time together. All three of us actually. Margot was sitting on my face at the time. Sweet pussy! Very juicy! A few days after our date with Margot, I called Erin just to check in with her. Time out. Guys, have some class. It’s only good manners to call a girl sometime shortly after you’ve had sex with her. Particularly if yours was her first cock. Check in. It’s the polite thing to do, and after all, it could lead to more adventures of a sexual nature. Time in. Erin and I talked about this and that. She was sore for the first couple of days, but was back to normal by the time I called her. She seemed happy that I was keeping tabs. Somewhere in there I mentioned that I had a few functions left at school before graduation. Chief among those was the Prom. I wasn’t all that interested, but as President of the Student Body, I had no choice. I had to attend. Erin turned wistful. She told me the story of her Prom experience. Time out. Apparently she and her date, Jolene, had planned the whole thing down to the last detail. They spent every dime they had for clothes, a limo, dinner and a room at a nice hotel after the party. Everything was set. They were some kind of excited. Dinner was excellent; the limo a Rolls, with an illicit bottle of champagne, decadent; the Prom itself magical… …until the chaperones escorted them out the door. The biddy responsible was married to the Chairman of the local School Board – and was Erin’s mother’s rival for Secretary of the Garden Club. She quite enjoyed booting Erin and Jolene from the Prom. She also did her best to have the two expelled. That two girls were coming to the dance as dates was bad enough. That one of them was dressed as a man was too much. Particularly since the girl wore the black tuxedo à la Flashdance. Jolene’s tits were a touch large for the outfit. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except that she was showing a whole lot of skin when her jacket came off. Her nipples were hidden, but pretty much the whole of her breasts were on display from certain angles. From the rear, she looked to be completely topless, but for the shirt collar and a thin black band stretched across her lower back. She looked all good. Maybe too good for Prom night in a small town. There were other young ladies showing just as much of their nubile flesh, but none was dressed as a man. Nor were any so obviously intimate with another girl. Erin looked golden herself in a midnight blue chiffon evening gown. From the front, the gown appeared conservative: long sleeves covering her arms and a turtleneck brushing her earlobes. From the back, well, there was no back. From her neck down to skirting the edge of legal, Erin’s gown showed nothing but skin tanned a golden brown. No bikini line. Obviously no bra. That gown and the tux made for a whole lot of hard dicks that night. Lots of other girls reaped the benefit, while Jo and Erin were sent away; one fuming, the other in tears, both furious. Erin and Jo were lucky to graduate. They were banned from any further school activities. Their diplomas came in the mail. Erin’s parents were stunned. They had no idea that their daughter was gay. She had never been close to her mother, but any relationship they’d had ended with that. Erin left home soon after, within a week of her eighteenth birthday. Time in. Erin fell silent after finishing the story. Good job James! Call a girl to chat and before the end of the conversation, she’s almost in tears, ready to jump off a bridge. Smooth! About then something clicked. I had one of my brain storms. Well, more like a brain fart, though it did turn out phat. A phat fart. (Yeah, I know.) “Erin, let’s recreate your Prom night.” I said, suddenly interested in the possibilities. “No strings attached. You ask anyone you want. You and your friend will go as my ‘dates’. I’m thinkin’ it would be a trip!” “James, are you smoking crack?” Erin asked in astonishment. “You don’t want to take two… girls… as dates to your Prom! Your mother would lose it all over both of us! Remember, I know all about that broom handle! I don’t want her mad at me!” Time out. After the incident with Larry, Moe and Stupid, Erin had occasion to meet my parents. More about that episode later. Don’t want to give away too much too soon. Besides, it’s an integral part of another lady’s story. Too bad. You’re just gonna hafta wait. Time in. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch Erin.” I said laughing. “Mom will think it’s a great idea, trust me. She likes you. I know she likes me. She isn’t going to be mad. She knows that I haven’t asked anyone yet.” “Think of it this way: you’re doing me a favor by agreeing to be my date. Besides, you watch. I bet that she’ll want to come too, just to see. She’ll volunteer to be a chaperone just to be part of it.” Erin started warming up to the idea. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. “Okay. Look. Here’s the deal. You clear it with your mom, and I’m in. Otherwise…” Her voice changed, a tinge of yearning creeping in “Shit. I really want to go now… Do y…” “Erin,” I interrupted. “Chill out. If it makes you feel better, I’ll have mom call you. Believe me, she’s gonna be cool with it.” Then I turned serious. “By the way – and I want no argument; there is absolutely no room for negotiation on this one – this party is on me. You and your friend pick out your outfits, and make whatever post-dance reservations you want. Dinner reservations are my job.” “But here’s the hard part: I’ll pick up the whole tab. It’s my party. I have the cash. So shut up and enjoy! If you give me any shit, the whole thing is off, and I’ll sic mom on you.” Silence. Then Erin started to cry. “You big jerk!” She whispered through a sob. “You’re making me cry! No one… you… Oh shit!… Now I can’t even talk…” She was silent for a few moments, then took a deep cleansing breath. “Okay! I’m okay… Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, well, to get so upset. You just caught me by surprise is all.” She took a few more deep breaths. “Look… Okay… It’s like this… Oh hell! This is gonna be so much fun. Who can I… Pat! Patrice would love to go with us! This is just her kind of kinky scene. You’ll love her!” Can’t say that it was love, but we did grow on one another. Lust maybe. Lust! That’s the ticket! Definitely lust. Erin and I discussed the details for a bit, then said our goodbyes. Later that evening I gave mom the scoop. She called Erin. I was right by the way. On all counts. In fact, she gave Erin a bit of a lecture. Something about having more faith in her… Aaahhh! There’s nothing like a little Mother Guilt! They’re so good at it! The gene for it must be in that other X chromosome. The limousine was sumptuous. The driver and I came to an arrangement, so the champagne was soon chilling nicely. We were precisely on time at Erin’s door. She and Pat were waiting. Patrice turned out to be slender, sharp-featured girl with chestnut red hair, cut short. An auburn helmet. For the Prom, she’d had it curled and teased to a soft halo about her lively face. She wore a minimum of makeup though the red lipstick somehow made her thin lips strangely inviting. Her cool green eyes were of a woman mature beyond her years, one that had seen much but retained her humor. Though four years younger, Patrice seemed older than Erin; wiser somehow. Definitely the dominant of the two. Or so I thought. While Erin wore an elegant evening gown, Patrice was every bit as elegant in a black tuxedo, cut and styled to match mine, but fitted to her stretched body. Slender to the point of thin, she wore the tuxedo with the ease of a man. Her shirt was a froth of snow white ruffles upon her chest, hiding all but a hint of her small breasts. I estimated something like 34A. Found out later that I was right on. Cute tits; bursting pink nipples. Her one concession to her sex other than makeup appeared to be her shoes: 3” heels; black patent leather straps. Maybe 5’6”, one-twenty in her bare feet, the heels gave her stature over Erin. Her finger and toe nails were painted blood red. Erin introduced us at the door. Patrice and I shook hands, very much in the masculine manner. I got the first hint of the possibilities of the night then. Patrice held my hand for an instant longer than necessary, running her forefinger lightly along my wrist. That fingernail gently scraping sent a jolt up my arm, straight to my nuts. I blinked, then saw the hint of a smile feather her lips. Her smile showed in her eyes, along with a challenge. Oh baby! This might be better than I thought! A competition! Let’s see who can turn the other on more! Better yet, we’d do it subtly, in front of everyone at the dance, but the rules were no one else was to know. Erin was right. Patrice is kinky. My kind of lady. Dinner was excellent. French cuisine at a little place in the Northwest Hills just off downtown. Ask for Maurice. We were seated in the back at one of the more private tables. The two ladies were dazzled with the service, as well as the food. Erin was entranced and entrancing; Patrice, engaging. Our conversation was light. Easy. No heavy double entendres allowed. That would have been gauche, not in keeping with the game. I don’t think either of us knew where it might end up. Or for that matter, what was the prize at stake. For the moment, it was a game, one that we were both enjoying. Erin was beaming. That her two ‘dates’ were getting along so well made the night complete for her. She seemed yet unaware of the currents running between Patrice and I. The humor welled behind Patrice’s eyes, along with the challenge. She was definitely getting to me. Worse, she knew it and was having fun letting me know that she knew. I gave as good as I got, once brushing my fingertip along the palm of her open hand. I felt the quickly- suppressed shudder run through her as she diverted Erin’s attention to another couple seated nearby. Patrice got me back almost immediately by running her foot along my calf. Erin didn’t help. She ran her foot along my other leg at the same time. One was a challenge; the other a promise. My nuts were starting to ache. Mr Snake was getting very interested. I adjusted my napkin, shifting him a bit. Good thing my pants are cut loose. He was needing the room. The smile was back on Patrice’s lips; playful; superior; the smile of the one confident of winning. Patrice was points ahead, but I had my own plans for evening the score. I must say that we made a striking trio when we stood up to leave. I draped Erin’s wrap around her shoulders, then she slipped her arms in ours: Patrice on her left; me on her right. The background murmur disappeared as the other patrons turned to watch. More than one startled gasp sounded behind as we walked out. Maurice, as urbane as ever, winked surreptitiously, only for me as he held the door. The Prom was a Prom. What can I say. The theme was The Forties. Lots of set decorations to make the hall look like Rick’s Café Americain straight out of Casablanca. The girls were all showing off their formals while pretending to be ladies. For the moment, I guess they all were. Lots of bare shoulders and tight bodices. Padded bras and mountains of tissue stuffing. Some real sweet babes. Some not so sweet, but lovely all the same. Happy to be there. All were having a good time. Magic time for teenage girls. The guys all stood around preening, most looking self-conscious in their tuxedos. A couple of them trying to be original in top hats and tails; walking sticks and hightop Converse. There’s nothing new under the sun, but when you’re young, you think it is. Oh well, you are only young once. Once they had made their appearance, most were eager to bail, having made plans that did not involve chaperones. We had a table with my closest homies Justin, Dan, Eric as well as their dates Mare, Deirdre and Dana, respectively. All six of them were in on the scam, and were cool about it. I had fun. Erin was starry-eyed. Patrice has a wicked sense of humor. She fit right in. To Erin’s complete delight, we three were chosen ‘Best Dressed Couple’. I swear she almost climaxed when the spotlight hit us. But she floated, head high, her hand light on our arms, with a dazzling smile for the cameras as we swept up to accept the prize. She was stunning in a Prada evening gown made of sky blue silk chiffon. Backless, down to the flair of her gorgeous little ass, the halter gown also featured a deep decolletage, leaving the inner curves of Erin’s breasts on display. The hem of the gown brushed the floor. It was definitely worth the bank I’d spent. Her stockings had to be thigh-high stay-ups. Pantyhose or a garterbelt would have shown through the chiffon. Her strappy sandals were Gucci. Three, maybe 3-1/2” heels. Erin was too small to wear anything higher. She may have been wearing a thong or v-string, but definitely no bra. Anyone could see her breasts bobbing as she moved. She had the attention of every guy in the place; not a few of the girls too. Margot would have been proud. Anyone could also see that Erin was excited. Silk chiffon is a delicate fabric. Erin’s headlights were on highbeam all night. Me? I wore my tuxedo. Armani. I found it on eBay last year; nice price. Found another for Patrice there too; then had the tux tailored to fit her perfectly. We danced and mingled and talked and danced some more. Erin was in heaven. Patrice and I took turns leading Erin out. We each got our share of the slow songs. Patrice knew well how to lead. I must admit they looked good breast to breast. Almost as good as Erin and I. While they were dancing cheek to cheek, I took the opportunity to relieve myself. I got relieved alright. The men’s room off the hall was full, or rather, full enough for me to seek another. Some kid had tried scotch for the first time. Big mistake. His homies were trying to help, but he was selling buicks in the sink. No thanks. Been there, done that – when I was about ten. Cheap scotch will come back to haunt you quicker than anything else you can drink. Well, ouzo maybe. I stepped upstairs to find another facility. Found one back in a corner, down a dark hallway. After taking care of business, I started back to the dance. Suddenly a voice came out of a doorway beside. “Just where do you think you’re going, young man!?” Oh shit. I turned. That quick I had my arms full of Lillian. Dr Lillian Teasley, ED.D, one of the Vice Principals; a good friend of mom’s; and one of the more kinky of my lovers. I read the signs. Before I danced with Erin again, Lillian was determined to get herself fucked silly. She pulled me in the door and locked it quickly behind. We were in a small office. I took in the furnishings at a glance: desk; filing cabinet; a couple of armchairs; a couch against the far wall. The only light came from a small lamp on the desk. Lillian’s eyes were gleaming as she threw her arms around my neck. Before I could say “Whoa!”, her tongue was dancing with mine. My hands fell naturally to her petite ass. Nice ass. I gave it a squeeze. Not much fabric there between my palms and her bare butt. Mr Snake came to attention. Her gown was relatively conservative, in keeping with her postion as VP in charge of discipline. Conservative, but pricey. Black crepe cascading to the floor; a bolero jacket, held closed with a single large button between her breasts. While we kissed, I gathered her gown behind until I felt snaps beneath my fingers. I gave a tug and felt one separate. Lillian moaned as she felt the rest give way, one after another down from her the small of her back. I pulled the crepe to either side, then slipped my hands to cover her asscheeks beneath. She was wearing panties; v-strings with a narrow strip of floss running down the furrow of her ass. Those little panties left bare two firm mounds of her flesh to mold and fondle as we kissed. Garters attached to wide bands of elastic lace held her stockings high on her thighs. She whimpered through the kiss as I smacked her bare bottom a couple of times. Lillian likes that. A lot. A whole lot. Spanking makes her hot and very juicy. Mr Snake approves. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 7 Lillian hung on tight, standing on her tiptoes, working her lips against mine as I made her ass red. With every smack she got hotter, more ready for my dick. My hands were stinging before she dropped to her haunches with a sob, eagerly tearing at my slacks. She crouched there whimpering while she jerked my erection from my boxers, through the fly and into her warm, sweet mouth. Down, then up, then quickly down again, feathering her tongue over the head and along the shaft, tracing the pulsing veins. Lillian was frantic to taste me; to suck my cock. I laid my hand on the back of her head, holding her there while she nursed my dick. Her lips and tongue were magic, playing fugues up and down the shaft. As hot as she was, I knew that it wouldn’t be long before she begged me to fuck her. “Dr Teasley! You’re such a good little cumslut, aren’t you. I love to watch you sucking my cock. That’s it; get it nice and hard and wet so I can ream your juicy little pussy with it…” Lillian loves hearing trash while she sucks dick. No that’s wrong. Lillian loves hearing trash any time we’re having nasty sex. Oral. Anal. Cuntal. Doesn’t matter. Trash talking get’s her hot. I thought I might have an interesting night ahead with Erin and Patrice, so I didn’t want Lillian to take all my strength. Besides, I had to get back before I was missed. Lillian got fucked hard and fast. That’s wrong: we both got fucked hard and fast. Her lips popped when I pulled her up and off my dick. She slipped the button on her jacket. When she pulled it from her shoulders, her bare tits popped out. Whoa! The bodice of Lillian’s dress was essentially a half- cup bustier with spaghetti straps crossing her shoulders. The half-cups acted as a built-in bra, supporting her lovely breasts but leaving her crinkled nipples bare. I didn’t have a chance to more than glance at her chest before she melted into my arms for a kiss with one fist wrapped around Mr Snake. I broke the kiss long enough to slip my jacket off and shrug the straps from my shoulders. Lillian did the rest. She yanked my slacks and boxers to my knees, careless of my dick. Lillian was in a hurry too, but I took control. I know that lady well. If she’d had her way, we would have been fucking for a couple of hours. “God James! Fuck me! Sit down there and let me climb onto your lap. I want that monster cock of yours in me now!” She tried to push me down on the couch, but I picked her up, spun her around and draped her over the back of one of the armchairs. Her hands fell to the arms and she looked back over her shoulder with smoldering eyes as I parted the her dress behind. The crepe of her gown draped to either side of her outthrust ass. Thin satin straps stretched down across her thighs to garters clipped to her stockings front and back. Lillian was wearing a black butterfly v-string, but the panties had no gusset. The fat pink lips of her hairless and very wet pussy spilled out of the crotchless panties. I admired the view for an instant, then smacked her asscheeks once each just for the fun of it. Her body jumped with each slap, but the hunger in her eyes grew. She spread her legs wide. God I love fucking Lillian. She always makes me hot. She brings out the animal in me, which is just what she wants. “Such a naughty girl, wearing those nasty panties. Someone’s just begging to get fucked…” While I talked the trash, I gripped her hips, centered the head of my dick on the seam of her flushed sex and rammed my dick deep into her juicy vagina. In hard; then out a bit; then in hard again. Her bare asscheeks flattened at the impact of my loins as my cock filled her completely with the second thrust. Her breath rushed from her lungs in a muted wail as I slammed into her. Lillian’s back arched at the impact. Her wail stuttered as I slammed into her again. She loves my hands gripping her hips and holding her open, but I wanted to get her off quickly. Releasing her hips, I grabbed her by the shoulder and began smacking her ass as I slammed into her again and again. Power fucking her as fast as I could work my ass. Lillian was on her tiptoes folded over the chair. She had no leverage to pump back at me. I had her pinned and helpless, just the kind of position that she craves the most. “Oh God! You’re fucking me…! There’s nothing…! Aahh! I can’t…! You’re spanking me…! Aahh! Spanking my bare bottom…! Aahh! I can feel your cock splitting…! You’re taking me…! Aahh! Spank me…! I’m so bad…! Fuck meeeee…!” Lillian lit off with a squeal. Her neck arched higher as her pussy clamped down on my cock. I slammed into her, ramming through, as she strained against me, soaring. Her pussy gripped me like a fist in a velvet glove. That sent me soaring right behind her. Lillian wailed obscenely as I drilled her puss. My balls clenched. Mr Snake surged, throbbing; boring deep. The bursting head of my cock kissed the ring of her cervix as the cum jetted out, filling her vagina with my seed. We strained against each other as our shared climaxes peaked, then slumped together. Both of us were breathless. We remained coupled for a few moments, then I pulled back. Mr Snake slipped from her puss with a sucking sound. I helped Lillian to stand. Her legs were wobbly. Lillian needed a cork or my sperm would be leaking down her thighs the rest of the night. Come to think of it, I’d bet she’d let that happen. Lillian is kinky. She would love to be standing in a crowd of kids and parents with the cum from one of her students seeping from her pussy. I took her in my arms again, the side of her face pressed against my shirt. Lillian wrapped one arm around my waist and took my deflating cock in her free hand to protect her gown. She held me close until her breathing eased; then bent down to lick the juices from my dick. Lillian never wastes cum. When Mr Snake was clean, she rose to my arms again. “God I love that! You really are something James. You can get me off quicker than anyone I know. Thank you.” She looked up, her lips curling into an impish smile. “By the way, Principal Marx – Laura – thanks you too. She quite enjoyed the audio program you put on last week with her neighbor. What’s her name, Chloe? Stunning dive too. Great view of that cock of yours. She’d like to get a better view of it though. How about next week? My place. Our husbands are taking a week to play golf in Arizona.” I smiled and nodded my head slowly. “You are really something Dr Teasley…” She squeezed Mr Snake tightly. I corrected. Quick. “…Lillian! Be careful there. Squeeze too tight and he bites. Where was I… Oh yeah, you really are something Lillian. I fuck your lights out and thirty seconds later, you’re setting up the next session. Okay, what the hell. I’ve got something going Saturday, but I can be there Saturday night or Sunday.” She grinned. Evil smile. Promising too. “Make it Saturday night at eight, but be prepared to stay over. I don’t think you’ll have the strength to leave after we get through with you. You may be young and strong, but we’re older and very crafty. We’re going to teach you a thing or two.” Lillian reached up to pull my head down for a kiss. Great kiss. Lots of tongue. She let me pull back, licking her lips. “God, I love kissing you! But I’ve got to get back to the Prom. You too. Those two young ladies of yours will be sending out search parties before too long. Beautiful girls, by the way. I would like to get to know that one in the tuxedo. She intrigues me. I want to hear her story when we see you next week.” While she talked, we pulled ourselves together again. Lillian teased her hair in place and applied fresh lipstick while I tucked Mr Snake away. In two minutes we were all buttoned up again, ready to face the crowd. We each looked the other over, just to make certain that there were no feathers on our faces. Satisfied, we shared a last kiss, then I slipped out the door. Our encounter had lasted about fifteen minutes. I’d been gone a little over twenty. No sweat. I could explain that away easy. Lillian waited a couple of minutes then followed. Time out. I was right. She told me later that, besides fucking me, the greatest thrill she had that night was feeling my sperm leaking down her thighs while she talked to my mom. It made her hot. She was already juicy. Told ya she was kinky. Time in. Patrice was leading Erin back to the table just as I sat down. No one seemed to notice that I’d been gone for a while. We sat talking with the others for a few minutes, then I led Erin out onto the floor again. We danced through a couple of tunes, then returned to the table once more. Missy was there, gorgeous as always in a Donna Karan I think. A strapless bustier gown anyway. She was partnered with another homey, Jason. We all gabbed for a few minutes, then Missy gathered my two dates and disappeared into the powder room. Mare, Deirdre and Dana tagged along. Comparing notes I guess. While we waited for their return, the guys all discussed our individual plans for the rest of the evening. None of them believed me when I said that I hadn’t made any. They were all certain that I’d be the meat in a girl sandwich before the night was over. That I’d already been fucked that night never came up. The only people who knew about Lillian and I were those that she chose to tell. ‘Kiss and tell’ is not my style. I slipped away from the discussion for a moment to conduct some business and order a round of sodas. When they came out again, I surprised Patrice by asking her to dance. I think that I just barely beat her to it. She looked startled, then chagrined, as though she’d been saving that for the finale. Erin grinned and said that she would enjoy watching us. I knew then that Patrice had intended to ask me first, so that she could lead. I’d have done it – fair is fair – but I’m glad I asked before she did! Too late babe! And it’s too late to back out now too! If you accept, you lose. If you refuse, you lose worse. Suck it up and take my hand. Let’s see if you follow as well as you lead. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she took my hand and followed me to the dance floor. But her face went pale, then bright red as the first bars of a tango came from the orchestra. While they were in the ladies can, I’d bribed the bandleader. She gave me one dirty look, then whispered: “You are a complete shit James! You’re gonna get yours for this one sweetheart! The gloves are officially off!” Then she grinned. She had an evil smile too. Surprise! Patrice could not only follow, she could tango. Well. Jesus she was good! We must have looked weird dancing together in our tuxedos. But somehow, it worked. We were spectacular. The other couples on the floor soon stopped to watch as Patrice and I did some serious dancing. She matched my moves with every step. The more we danced, the more comfortable we became as partners. By the end, we looked as though we had practiced the moves together. We got a standing ‘O’ from the crowd, and took a bow together. Patrice’s eyes were shining. Speaking out of the corner of her mouth as we accepted the applause, Patrice let me have another surprising shot. “James, you’re the best partner I’ve ever had. But payback’s a bitch. Just wait. I’ll find a way to get you back. In the meantime, thanks for the dance.” The orchestra quieted as the applause died away. The first notes of a slow, dreamy piano solo began. I surprised Patrice again by pulling her into my arms for another round. “Time out Patrice. You can get me back later. Right now, I just want to enjoy another dance with a spectacular partner. Not many people know how to dance well. You do. You made us both look good. Thanks.” She gave me that evil smile again. “Okay, time out then. But let me get rid of this coat first. That tango made me too warm. I don’t want to start sweating in this jacket.” She stepped back to slip off the jacket, her eyes on mine. She got the reaction she’d wanted. Her smile deepened as she slipped off the cumberbund too. Both went over a nearby chair. Her ruffled ‘shirt’ was no more than a bib that disappeared into the front of her slacks: backless; damn near sideless; a bare ring of flesh centered on her navel. That night, Patrice wore a ruby in her pierced belly button. Tight abs. The only thing holding up the bib was the starched collar. The only thing holding it down was… who the hell knew?! The ‘shirt’ had to have been attached to something below her waist. Straps held up the loose slacks. Snow white French cuffs with navy goldstone cufflinks circled her wrists. Otherwise, her arms were bare. As bare as her shoulders and back. Suddenly I was very interested in getting a look inside those slacks. Mr Snake too. I maintained, but it was an effort. Patrice could see. She’d won a lot of points for that performance. Her evil smile was positively wicked when she stepped up into my arms again. We began moving with the music. “Gotcha!” What could I say. She was right. “You win. I surrender. There’s no way I can top that presentation without stepping out of my pants. I don’t think the chaperones would approve. Do you?” Patrice laughed, pleased with herself. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea, but from what I’ve heard, a lot of these girls might find it entertaining.” My turn to chuckle. “No. Not a good idea, particularly since that little chaperone standing over there with the big guy is my mother. He’s my dad. Neither would be happy with me, and she swings a mean broom handle.” Patrice glanced their way, then met my eyes, still grinning. “Do you often bring mommy and daddy with you on dates?” Ooohh! Nasty edge to that humor! “Naahh. He’s here because she’s here. She’s here to see Erin. Mom and Erin have this… for lack of a better term, I’ll call it ‘mother-daughter’ thing going. You know Erin’s story. Mom… substitutes.” Patrice nodded, then surprised me again by laying the side of her face in the crook of my shoulder. My hand was broad across the small of her naked back. Her arms snaked around my waist, holding me close as we danced. I laid my other hand lightly on the nape of her neck. Her fine hair smelled of fresh Spring. Her slender neck smelled of Chanel and female. “Yeah. That’s so cool. Erin needs that. Major issues…” Mr Snake was feeling a might constricted. Patrice looked up to me as she pressed herself closer. “Hhhmm. This feels promising…” I ran the tips of my fingers lightly up her spine eliciting a shudder. Eyes closed, Patrice tightened her grip molding herself to me. “So does this.” I whispered in her ear. “Ooohh! You really are a shit! You’re learning my buttons… Better be careful, or I’m going to start pressing yours right here on the dance floor.” “Too late. You’ve already pressed them.” Eyes still shut, her smile flashed. She had no need to comment. Mr Snake was very much in evidence. We danced on in silence for a moment. “Does Erin know that you’re bi?” I murmured. Patrice managed to surprise me again. “Yeah, she knows. Actually I thought of myself as straight until she seduced me. But who can resist that phat little body of hers. I surf professionally. She came to watch a competition. I placed second, and she presented herself as a consolation prize. She looked so sweet in her little bikini. We started talking and before I knew it, she was in my bed going down on me. I’m into ‘firsts’. That was definitely a first.” Patrice shuddered at the memory. There was a whole story to be told there. I had a feeling that I’d learn more of it soon. “Jesus, I’m getting hot.” she said breathlessly. “We better…” About then the piano trailed off, ending that dance. Patrice kissed my cheek. “Thanks for the dance. That was all good. Let’s get back to our date before I take you behind the curtain and do the merengue on that monster dick of yours.” I smiled, thinking… no way lady, not yet. Though you could suck my dick for a few minutes, then I’d be ready. You might not be pleased to taste another woman on my cock though. Mental note: Gotta take a shower before that happens. Don’t forget, or they’ll be pissed…! Erin was deep in conversation with the group, but looked up to give us a beautious smile when we approached the table. It appeared that she was having fun. It also appeared that she was pleased that Patrice and I were apparently getting along well. Before Patrice could sit, Erin popped up and asked her to dance. Off they went; slow dancing together. They looked to be deep in their own conversation. Just watching the two ladies dancing together made my dick hard. I took a moment to get Mr Snake relaxed. No luck. What the hell. I shrugged my shoulders and turned to Justin and Dana. The other four were off somewhere. We three talked while the two ladies danced. I think they got hot watching Patrice and Erin too. By midnight, things were winding down. We were among the last to leave. Erin was having such a good time, neither Patrice nor I had the heart to cut it short. The champagne was icy by the time we got back in the limo. The strawberries too. We three stretched out together talking with Erin in the middle of course. I had no idea what was next on the agenda. Patrice had a word with the driver before we pulled out. I half expected to be dropped off, but apparently the ladies decided to take me for the whole ride. We drove down the coast aways. A little less than an hour. We kept busy in the back. Erin had both Patrice and I simmering before we arrived. We had to take turns feeding her strawberries and sips of champagne. Her hands were busy in our laps. Before we were on the freeway, Erin had her hands in our unzipped flys. I surmised that Erin had her fingers in Patrice’s panties, stroking her pussy. I know she had her other hand inside my boxers wrapped around my dick. Good thing Lillian had licked it clean. Mr Snake was awake and aware, but at least he wasn’t sticky. Patrice and I also took turns kissing Erin while we both massaged her breasts. The halter top of her gown – and the absence of a bra – made her lovelies readily available. Her nipples were achingly tight before we arrived. Mr Snake was certainly tight. From the odors wafting through the car, I had a feeling Patrice was juicy. Erin too. The limo swept into the circular drive of a luxury hotel none too soon. If we’d gone much longer, I’d have taken one or the other of the ladies right across that long bench seat. Maybe both. Like I said, Mr Snake was awake, aware and sniffing for pussy. As it is, we had to take a few seconds to button up. I slipped the chauffeur a Grant, and asked him to pick us up at noon. He accepted the pourboire with a smile, but said that he already had his instructions. With that, he tipped his hat and motored away. Hmmmm. Nice place. Not much action in the lobby at that time of night. Both the nightclub and the bar appeared to be busy though. We swept through without stopping. Apparently the ladies had already checked in. They headed straight for the elevators, each with an arm under mine. The young lady at the desk glanced up, then down again. Good training: her smile was barely perceptible. One couple came out of the bar as we passed. She, a tall blonde with patrician features and a sculpted figure; he, taller, dark-haired. Handsome in his way, but with that pampered and dissolute look about his mouth and chin that spoke of wealth bestowed, unearned. Her dress was designer: Nicole Miller, I think. His suit spoke equal expense, tailored well enough to disguise his burgeoning paunch. They stopped. Both looked at us with raised eyebrows. They looked to be married, in their early thirties. The husband got that stunned look. His wife looked surprised, but very interested. With a nudge, she got her husband moving again. They followed us to the elevators. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 7 He was uncomfortable, fidgeting as we waited for the doors to open; looking everywhere but at us. She held his arm, but her bright eyes were flashing. Her look was very direct. “That’s a beautiful dress you’re wearing. Prada, I believe.” She murmured to Erin, a sultry lilt in her precise voice. “And I just love that tux dear.” The last to Patrice. She looked at me. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Someone is going to get lucky tonight…” “Yes…” I agreed, meeting her eyes evenly “…they are.” Patrice gave a bark of laughter. Erin quivered with the effort of holding back hers. Their hands both tightened on my arms. I could feel the waves of mirth rolling from the two ladies. The man looked startled. The woman blinked, then returned my smile. Amused interest flashed through her sparkling brown eyes. She murmured something below her breath. It sounded like ‘…ooohh, don’t tease me…!” but I was’t certain. The half-serious invitation for her to join us was unspoken but apparent. At least to her; I don’t think her husband caught it. It could be that the single malt he’d been drinking had dulled his senses, but I doubt that he was perceptive enough even without the good scotch in his system. Just as well. I didn’t really want to cause a scene. He didn’t look like the partying type, and had no clue that I’d just jokingly offered his wife the services of my dick. I preferred to leave it that way. No doubt he would have been pissed if he had grasped the undercurrents. He cleared his throat as the elevator door slid open with a soft chime. We rode in silence, though the woman’s look remained both interested and considering. Her companion continued to clear his throat while sneaking glances at both Patrice’s outfit and Erin’s chest. The ladies ignored him. His wife spent her time measuring my package by eye. Mr Snake stood up well to the inspection. They got off the floor before ours. The last look I had as the doors slid shut was of her eyes. One dipped in a subtle wink. We three looked at each other, then burst out laughing when the car started up again. Yeah it was cruel, but he was such a nimrod. The woman on the other hand… “James, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were coming on to her.” Patrice admonished me. “For shame. Don’t you know how to control yourself, you bad, greedy man you.” Erin began rubbing her breasts against my arm. Patrice followed suit while caressing the bulge in my slacks. “Yeah James.” Erin added still giggling. “You had her creaming in her panties. Don’t you think you’ve enough on your dance card tonight.” No shit Sherlock. Lillian and those two were plenty for any man. But like I said before, Mr Snake is always sniffing for new pussy. He knows no allegiance. “Ladies, I apologize.” I said with a bow. The elevator chimed again, then opened to our floor. “My only excuse is that the husband was such a herb.” I said as we went out the door and down the hallway together. “He couldn’t take his eyes off your tits Erin, and Patrice, he looked at you like he was wondering what planet you’re from. Guys like that piss me off. No class.” “Yeah, but they’re a hoot to tease.” Patrice answered as she slipped a keycard in a door. “Anyway, who cares what they think.” she finished as she waved us into the suite. Wow! I wonder what kind of bank this place cost me. I thought as I took in the amenities. The door opened onto a vast sitting room with a couch and chairs. There was a desk set before the far wall, which was all window. Nearby was a circular table for four. The curtains were drawn, showing a balcony and what would be a spectacular view of the ocean in the morning. It was too dark to see. Twinkling lights on the horizon spoke of a distant ship. A cabinet stretched along one wall, above which a plasma screen television hung. A single door opened beside me on the right through which I could see a small bedroom. Double doors on the opposite wall obviously led to the dressing room and master bedroom. A small wet bar stood in the corner, with a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket. Flowers were everywhere. Keiko Matsui played softly in the background. We barely got a look at the place when there was a discrete knock. Patrice grinned at me, then opened the door to allow a waiter to enter, pushing a cart loaded with covered dishes. He asked whether he should set the table, but Patrice, with a glance at us, declined. I slipped him a ten on his way out. “Patrice and I thought we all might be hungry later, so we ordered some sandwiches and sundry for later.” Erin explained as she began lifting covers. “Roast beef, chicken, ham and turkey sandwiches… salads… chips… oooh, even some of the fabulous French Onion soup they’re famous for… cold shrimp on ice… fruit… oysters on the half shell… lemon wedges… just about everything we could think of to feed your strength…” “Yes, and you’re going to need it, later.” This from Patrice who stood at the bar thumbing the cork from the champagne. With a bass flute-like thoump, the cork flew flew across the room. Without thinking I reached out to snatch it from the air and joined the two ladies at the bar. I traded it to a grinning Patrice for a glass. The three of us toasted each other, then traded brief kisses before Patrice and Erin excused themselves. “Relax for a few minutes James,” said Erin over her shoulder. “We’re going to freshen up and get more comfortable.” They disappeared through the double doors, their heads together, giggling. I took the opportunity to freshen up myself in the extra bedroom Nothing like a quick shower to feel renewed. Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to rid myself of any lingering ‘Lillain’ scent. As in any first class establishment, the staff had provided thick white terrycloth robes. Ten minutes later I was standing on the balcony, leaning on the rail, champagne in hand, watching the night and listening to the waves roll onshore. The wind was no more than a gentle ruffle through my hair. Perfect night with a three-quarter moon shimmering on the water just above the horizon. To my best estimate, one-thousand-seven-hundred- and-eighty-seven stars twinkled in the black sky. There came a presence behind. I turned to find Patrice slipping through the glass wall with her champagne in hand. She was still dressed in her tuxedo. Her jacket was open. “Oh darn! I had every intention of stripping that tuxedo off you myself. Now you’re in a robe and I’m in a tux. How lame is that!?” She asked with a grin as she stepped beside me. “Sorry about that.” I said. “I needed a shower to perk up. But I’m glad you’re still dressed. I’ve been eager to get a closer look at that thing you call a shirt.” “You and every other guy at the Prom!” Patrice laughed, leaning on the rail. “And I don’t believe for a minute that you’re sorry. You just wanted to get yourself stripped down for action. Admit it. You’re just horny for our sweet and sexy little bodies; you can’t wait to get us girls naked.” She said the last in a murmur directly in my ear. Then ran her tongue along the lobe. “Patrice, if you think I won’t tell you how much I’d like to get you naked in a helpless position… Well I guess that I just did that, didn’t I.” I turned to her straightening, took her glass and set both on the lanai table. Patrice watched with sparkling eyes as I stepped close again, then cupped the nape of her neck and drew her face to mine for a lingering kiss. When I pulled back, her eyes were closed, her lips parted and glistening in the moonlight. She shuddered, then seemed to waken. “Oh baby!” She whispered in a voice roughened with passion. “You do know how to kiss a woman. Absolutely no doubt.” She reached to cup my head, drawing my face down to hers. “Do that aga – mmmmhhh…” She murmured as my mouth met hers and our tongues began to dance. I held her head in my hands. She pulled my robe loose, then slipped her hands within to my ass to pull our bodies together. Good kiss. Great tongue action. Strong hands. Patrice ran a hand up and down my back, leaving the other holding me close. Mr Snake was standing tall, hard against my belly, trapped between us. As we kissed, I felt another body join ours. Erin stepped behind to press herself against me. Her breasts were full against my back. Frustrated by my robe, she released me long enough to slip it from my shoulders. I dropped my arms, allowing the robe fall to the deck. Just like that, I was outdoors naked in the arms of two very horny young ladies. Patrice didn’t let a thing distract her from her kiss. Erin pressed herself against my back again. I felt her fingertips trace up over my hips and down to take my erection in hand. She began running her pursed lips along my back leaving light kisses here and there. Her tongue tasted me, sending shivers through me. One hand dropped to cup my sac and fondle my balls gently. I held Patrice’s face in my hands again. She slipped her arms around my neck. She moaned, molding her body to mine as we kissed. With Erin behind, holding me close, I was trapped between them, loving every second of it. Patrice finally broke the kiss and leaned back. Her eyes were heavy-lidded; dreamy with lust. She leaned into me again, dropping her hands to my pecs, and began tracing her lips and tongue along my jaw, then down from my neck. She passed to and fro across my chest. My hands yet cupped her cheeks gently as her lips wandered, pleasuring me. Patrice lingered over my nipples, to tongue and worry the erect nubs. Each nip sent bolts of pleasure/pain through my chest. Erin was rubbing her body against my back while softly stroking my cock and fondling my nuts. Her lips too began to roam across my back, and down, to taste and kiss. She began to use her teeth, nibbling where ever she could gain purchase. Each soft bite sent shocks through me, counterpoint to those Patrice was sending through my chest. Soon both ladies were down: Erin to my bare ass, trailing her lips over my cheeks; Patrice to my groin to taste my belly and the hollow of my thighs. Erin released my nuts to allow her friend access. She placed her free hand on my hip holding me there for Patrice. I looked down to see Patrice on one knee staring up at me as she ran her tongue made broad along my inner thigh beside my sac. Erin’s fingers were soft on my erection, gently pumping. I was ready, but still surprised when Erin laid the side of her face against my hip and cupped Patrice’s head, then pulled her face to my cock. “Take him. Suck him.” Erin breathed softly. “Suck his beautiful cock for me. Make him hard. So hard... Make him wet for me. Taste his precum. Smear it around with your tongue... I want him slick for me. Make him ready to slide into my pussy. Make him ready to fuck me...” Jesus! If the lips and tongue pulling at my cock didn’t make me hard, Erin’s words would have! Mr Snake was hugely erect and throbbing. Patrice’s eyes were wide looking up at me. I could see that she’d never before taken such a big cock in her mouth. But she didn’t hesitate; didn’t back off. She sucked at the head, licking around the glans and sliding the tip of her tongue into the slit at the tip, teasing. Tasting me with Erin’s hand on the back of her head, holding her to me. Patrice moaned, her passion rising. Her lips vibrated around my shaft. God! It was tough to maintain. I swayed, knees suddenly weak, but grabbed the railing for balance. Erin’s hand on my ass helped me remain standing. I spread my legs slightly. Patrice never faltered. Her lips stretched to take me farther inside. Her eyes rolled back, showing white. She was as turned on as I. Once I was set again, stable on my feet. Erin moved quickly behind Patrice. She was robed as I had been. She had washed her face, removing most of her makeup. She looked very young. Her legs were clad in sheer white stockings; her feet in clear acrylic mules. The white robe made her look virginal; the hose and heels, blatantly sexy. My cock throbbed at the sight. She too looked up to me, eyes sultry with lust. Erin opened her robe, teasing. Beneath I glimpsed a sheer white chemise: gathered in a choker collar made of lace; cascading in loose folds down to her thighs; matching stringed panties with bows perched high on the hollows of her hips. Erin stood there for a moment, one hand yet laid on Patrice’s head. When she was certain that her friend would continue to service me without question or direction, Erin crouched behind, then slipped the jacket from Patrice’s shoulders. Patrice dropped her arms for the instant it took to release the jacket, then grasped my thighs again. Still on one knee sucking, Patrice shivered as Erin unzipped her slacks. Erin reached in, fingers questing, then began a rhythm, pleasuring her. Patrice moaned again, almost whimpering. Erin had obviously found her clit. Patrice pushed her ass back to nestle against Erin, pumping her pussy down on the demanding fingers buried in her sex. Erin slid her other hand beneath Patrice’s arm and over her friend’s chest, fondling her breasts. Not satisfied with the sensation of the ruffles beneath her palm, Erin pulled back and slipped her hand beneath the bib covering Patrice’s chest. I could see her hand working beneath the ruffles, cupping Patrice’s breasts; worrying her nipples; fondling the shallow cones of titflesh. All the while she pumped her fingers into Patrice’s pussy, eliciting whimpers of need as Patrice sucked my cock. Erin began running her lips along Patrice’s neck, flicking her moist tongue along her jawline, then up to the earlobe, and down to her shoulder. Patrice began to vibrate, her passion cresting. She sucked at me desperately, moaning and shivering. Rhythmic tremors ran through her body as Erin discovered the frequency of her need. Patrice teetered on the edge of orgasm. Erin began whispering in her ear. “Yes! Yes! That’s it! Cum for me! Suck that beautiful cock and cum for me! Make it hard for me! I’m gonna have it in me, fucking me. Hammering me until we come together. Then you can lick me, taste me; taste his cum in my pussy, and make me cum again...” Patrice wailed as she came, crashing. Pumping her ass, driving Erin’s fingers deep. Her cries were muffled by the cock buried in her mouth. Her eyes below lowered lids showed white; her mouth was slack on my dick, but it was all I could do not to join her. I held back only because that would have spoiled Erin’s plan. Besides, Erin deserved a little teasing too after what she was doing to Patrice. Maybe more than a little. Patrice’s eyes gained focus again as her orgasm ebbed. She gave Mr Snake a last suck, then pulled away from my throbbing dick. My nuts were starting to ache faintly. I’d have to unload soon. My juice was backing up inside and I had no intention of letting my balls get too full. Apparently the ladies didn’t either. Particularly Erin. She pulled Patrice’s face back to her shoulder to suck at Patrice’s lips, run her pointed tongue along her her friend’s cheek and kiss her eyelids. Erin murmured obscene things in Patrice’s ear as she pleasured the younger girl. “…your so hot… I love watching you suck on a cock… now he’s going to fuck me… fill my pussy with his sperm… then you’re gonna go down on me… lick his cum from my cunt… taste me, and taste him… and suck on my clitty until your face is covered with my cum… while he fucks you from behind… fills your pussy with his big dick… while he takes you… fucks you… like a little doggy… like my little pet… fucks you… fucks you hard, until you scream…” Patrice was on the verge of another orgasm, but Erin wouldn’t allow it. Yet. She pinched Patrice’s nipple eliciting a moan. Erin looked up to me with needy, lustful eyes. “Please James,” she breathed. “Please come fuck me now. I want your cock in me. Fuck me.” She rose from behind, leaving Patrice on one knee, still gasping and shivering from her orgasm. Erin pulled my head down for an open-mouthed kiss. Before I could take her in my arms, she disappeared through the doorway, running for the bedroom. I reached down to pull Patrice to her feet. She threw her arms around my neck and breathed in my ear. “God she’s hot! She makes me hot! Come with me James. Fuck her for me. Make her scream. Fuck her deep and hard. As hard as you can. As fast as you can…” Patrice suddenly thrust her lips to mine, moaning as she kissed me. My hands went to her bare back, tracing her spine; brushing along her flanks as she clung to me. Just as suddenly she pushed away from my embrace. She grabbed my hand eagerly. She pulled me through the door, toward the bedroom. “Let’s go fuck her now. She is so hot for you James. I can feel it. She needs your cock. I need it too.” Erin’s robe was a crumpled heap on the floor, forgotten. The only light came from twin sconces hanging from the wall to either side of the kingsize bed. She laid writhing on her back in the middle of the bed, her boobs beneath the chemise firm cones thrust high, pink nipples pointed. The bows had been plucked from her hips. The panties lay open beneath her ass. Her pert butt dimpled a pillow centered beneath, offering her plump, hairless mound. Erin looked up at me with hunger as she drew her knees up, spreading her thighs. Her bare pussylips glistened with wetness in the half-light. The inner lips moist and pink, inviting me in. No girl had every looked so ready to be fucked. Mr Snake almost let loose at the sight. Patrice was right behind as I crawled onto the bed. Erin and Patrice may have been eager, but I was almost frantic to dip my dick into that gorgeous pussy laid bare before my eyes. At that moment, the last thing Erin needed was romancing. She was ready for cock. The second to the last thing she needed was teasing. Too fucking bad. She’d earned that. Besides, I wanted the action to last longer than half a minute. In the state I was in, all I needed to do was plug in. Mr Snake would have been firing live rounds in the first ten seconds. That’s not condusive to satisfying the lusts of a young lady. I had no intention of disappointing her. I was ready too. Me and Mr Snake. He thumped tall against my belly as I crawled up the bed to hover over her, between her stretched thighs. Erin’s eyes widened at my approach, then narrowed again growing wild. She clutched her knees, opening herself for me; her breath panting with need. Erin’s eyes grew round again, almost fearful, as I planted my arms to the bed, hooking her knees inside my elbows She mewed anxiously, as she felt the head of my cock slip along the gooey lips of her sex. She reached down to capture my shaft, intending to guide it into entry. But I pulled back, then slapped her hand away. Frustrated, she whimpered, but I smacked her bare butt. “Patience sweet thing,” I murmured. “You don’t want me to bust a nut as soon as I plug in, do you? Besides, you remember Mr Snake. If I really jam this thing in, you’ll walk bowlegged for a week.” I felt the bed shift behind me as Patrice joined us. I can’t tell you whether she helped me maintain or not; but I can tell you that she certainly made the ride more enjoyable. Patrice crawled up behind me, sliding between my feet. Her hands went to my hips; her lips met the small of my back. Lightning ran through me as she began kissing me there; tonguing my flanks and squeezing my ass. Holy Shit, she felt good! I almost lost it again, but closed my eyes and got a grip. Not real firm, but a grip. While Patrice pleasured me behind, I planted my arms again lowering myself over Erin to run my dick along her pussylips. She was slick, juicy with want. She squirmed against me rubbing her pussy against my erection, coating the shaft with her oils. Erin looped her hands around my neck. Her breath caught; a tremor ran through her body each time the head of my dick bumped the swollen bud of her clit. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 8 This is the eleventh installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter III, Interlude VIII, Lillian ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart... sexy... sophisticated... and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. In this interlude we finally get to spend some quality time with Dr Lillian Teasley outside of school. No hurried trysts these, but a long weekend of lust spent in the comforts of her own home. Hubby's away for a week of golf and the field (or is that bedroom?) is clear for fun and games of the carnal persuasion. Now isn't it just James' luck that Lillian has a surprise or three up her sleeve... okay, maybe hidden in the pouch of her panties. That is beside the presence of Dr Laura Sanders, who just happens to be the Principal of JFK Prep, and who's alterego is just Laura, Lillian's lover. Graduation is just weeks away. Let's see what in the way of extra credit James can earn. Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ III The Ladies in My Life "...Had another mind-blowing session with Dr Teasley...." Interlude VIII: Lillian The lady's story is kind of special: a special story about a special lady. Well, two special ladies, but this is really Lillian's story. You've met Lillian a couple of times herein, but I have not had the time to introduce her formally. It is way past time to do so. Dr Lillian Teasley (nee Warner) ED.D, is one of three Vice Principals of JFK Prep. She is specifically charged with Guidance and Discipline within the school, with the additional responsibility of Staff Representative to the Student Council. Dr Teasley is also, beneath her no-nonsense demeanor and conservative dress suits, one hot mama. A brunette, she wears her hair short in a style that fits her face and manner perfectly. You know, five minutes with a hair dryer, pick and hairspray and she's ready for whatever. At one point I mentioned that Lillian is married. Her husband, Dr Leo Teasley ED.D is the Dean of the Graduate School of Education at one of the local universities. Other than that, I don't know much about him. Apparently he and Lillian are happily married, and have an understanding. He has his flings, she has hers and occasionally they get together to tell each other stories. Whatever works. Neither wanted children. Both had decided early on that educating other's offspring would suffice to satisfy their respective maternal and paternal instincts. Besides, at the end of the day, they could give the kiddies back to their parents and walk away. Their passion and energies were totally engaged in their work and each other. Whatever works. At 5'1" and one-eleven, Lillian is petite, but no pushover. She and mom are cut from the same cloth. Lillian has no trouble facing down a belligerent 18-year-old six foot male. I've seen her do it. Time out. One young man with a bit of an undiagnosed bipolar disorder got angry in the Commons one day and tried to grab her by the throat. She broke his arm. Then she called the ambulance and stayed by his side all the way to the ER. She held his other hand until his parents showed up. Mama was furious until junior admitted that he'd attacked her. Lillian declined to get the police involved after his parents agreed to get him tested and on medication. The School Board heard rumors and tried to step in, citing concerns about student and teacher safety. Lillian basically told them where to insert their concerns. After folding them into sharp corners. The Teachers Union quietly backed Lillian. The Board dropped it. That kid is now in college, on his way to a BS in Veterinary Science. He and Lillian stay in touch. Time in. Lillian and my mother are of an age (mid-forties) and best of friends, though mom has no idea – at least, I think she has no idea – that Lillian and I know each other well too. We know each other very well. As in the Biblical sense. Very, very well. We've fucked each other blue. Lillian is one of those people who believe in general rules of behavior, but also believes that there are exceptions to every rule. Her own sense of right and wrong guides her actions. If the reward is commensurate with the risk in her mind, she takes it; eyes open, aware of the consequences. Being a senior member of the staff in a large metropolitan High School and fucking a student – even if the student is eighteen – is a huge risk. Gigantic. As in carreer-ruined, you'll-never-teach-again gigantic. Apparently to her, fucking me is worth that risk. I happen to agree with the premise, but that's beside the point. She knows that I have her by the metaphorical balls – I'd say short and curlies, but at my request, she doesn't have any of those either – but she also knows and trusts me to keep my mouth shut. I can keep a secret. She knows it. She also trusts me not to try to take advantage of the situation, which I personally find astounding. I must be more moral than I seem to be to myself. Or maybe it's that we share the same philosophy (see above). Anyway, Lillian is a smart and ballsy lady. My kind of lady. She's also very kinky. She also has big tits for a little woman: 32D, with big fat juicy nipples. The kind that stand up and beg to be sucked. And pinched. And licked. And nibbled. And... well, and anything-you-care-to-do-with-them. Lillian likes it. I can't say that we are friends. She's my mother's friend. I can say that we understand each other, we care about each other, and that we are lovers. Kinky lovers. Lillian, as you may have observed, likes to be spanked. A whole lot. Gets her juicy, in a hurry. Friday and Saturday of Prom weekend had worn me out. Even Mr Snake needed a break. Erin and Patrice had seen to that. Those ladies are insatiable. They love to fuck tag-team. Sunday I spent at a ballgame with dad, then he and I took mom out for dinner. Nothing heavy. Just relaxing. I was saving my strength for the coming weekend. I had a date Saturday night with Lillian and friend, so I knew that I'd need to be well rested. Two against one can be wearing. I did go out one night with Missy that following week, but we didn't get too strenuous. Mostly I taught her a little bit more of what I knew about going down on a girl. Mmmmh mmhh, tasty pussy. Sweet girl. Gotta have a sweet pussy, right? Riiiight! Anyway. Saturday. Eight PM. As promised, I stood at the Tealsey's door with an overnight bag in hand, a bottle of premium Bordeaux under my arm, my finger on the bell and trepidation in my heart. I was dressed in stone-washed jeans, Tony Lama snakeskins and a broadcloth shirt of white cotton with the sleeves rolled to my forearms. Didn't want to be too dressed up, but still, bags, slaps and a tee shirt would have been bogus. These two were sophisticated ladies, not a couple of airhead teenage girls. The door jerked open just as the first tone sounded. Lillian must have been standing next to it. There she stood with that glint in her eyes. Uh oh. At her side stood Dr Laura Sanders, ED.D, the Principal of JFK HS. My Principal. Her eyes had that same glint. 'Oh shit!' uh oh. Good thing I'd been taking vitamins. Maybe I should start thinking about some Viagra. Is there an RDR? I had to work out an approach quick or those two were going to eat me alive. ...gotta get on top quick, or you're in for a long night trying to satisfy these two... I mused behind the smile on my face. straight sex would be fun; that's what they're expecting; but... let's just see how kinky we can get... on my terms... Dr Laura Sanders, ED.D is a blond of medium height, with a body younger than her face. She's in her late forties, 5'7" about 140; maybe 36C. Her tummy flat, sweeping down to wide hips and very nice ass. Her hair is styled short, in waves about her face. That was the first time I'd seen her out of her normal professional attire of a conservative suit. Well, second time if you count the glimpse I'd had of her at Chloe's. Nice tits: a healthy set of lungs. Both looked younger out of there suits. Much younger. More relaxed. Well, Laura looked a teensy bit nervous. Lillian was even smaller than she appeared to be at school. It was in her attitude as much as the clothes she was not wearing. The ladies wore shorty terrycloth robes and spiky sandals, the typical attire women wear to lounge around a pool. They were showing lots of tanned and tone legs. Very nice legs ladies. The robes were substantial enough to hide anything else they might be wearing. Or not wearing. Lillian shut the door behind me, then slipped into my arms for a kiss. Oooh, good kiss! Lots of tongue. She massaged my back; I massaged her ass. She finally broke away and leaned back with a smile, eyes twinkling. "Hiiiiii lover." she giggled. "Hi yourself sweetness.", kissing her nose. I gave her a pop on the bottom, then released her... ...to find Dr Sanders suddenly in my arms, head tilted back, hazel eyes flashing, glistening lips parted with tongue peeking at the corner, wordlessly demanding a kiss of her own. What could I do but oblige. Oh baybuh!!! Nice lips. Great tongue action. Lots of promise and need in that kiss! I found myself holding her head, giving her my best. What can I say; she pulled it out of me. Her arms looped beneath mine, hands on my shoulders holding me close. Our kiss lasted longer, but it was the first so she deserved more. I think Lillian agreed. She was standing besides us, a hand on each of our hips. She gave us a big smile when Laura finally pulled back to catch her breath. "Let me introduce myself.", I said formally. "I am James Masterson, you must be Laura Sanders. Lillian has told me so much about you." Dr Sanders looked startled. I know that I smiled faintly. It wasn't the first time that I'd seen that particular 'Oh shit!' transformantion. In that instant, I think she realized that things had changed between us. Time out. It didn't really matter, I mean, as far as school discipline went. She was still the Principal, an authority figure under that title. But I'd be graduating in less than a month, so it wasn't like this would affect that relationship. No, the immediate affect was that, in those few moments, outside the walls of the school, she was no longer a figure of authority. We were automatically on equal footing. The whole thing was a little unexpected – for her. Confidence my man, confidence. That's the key to just about everything in this life. Believe in yourself. With that kiss, she went from Dr Sanders, ED.D, Principal of a major High School, to just plain Laura, the woman who I was about to strip naked and fuck. As I said, that made her a teensy bit nervous. Laura suddenly had a wary glint in her eyes. I could tell that this wasn't going at all the way she thought it would. She was seeing me in a whole new light. Time in. With the preliminaries complete, Lillian took one arm while Laura took the other. She was shaky, but game. The ladies looked like a schoolboy's wet dream. They smelled heavenly. Off through the entryway we went, down the hall and into the Family Room overlooking the backyard and pool. Lillian gave a tour as we walked. Laura added comments. The Doctors Teasley have a three bedroom manse on a hillside about a half-hour out of town. Their home is nestled in a grove of trees in the middle of twenty acres of meadows and woodlands. Nice place. Very private. Their nearest neighbors are a half-mile away. Something tells me that that wasn't the first tryst that Lillian had arranged. We went first to the wet bar in the corner, set diagonal across two huge windows. There's even a pass-through so the bartender can keep anyone by the pool supplied with their favorite refreshment. A Diana Krall vocal crooned from hidden speakers. Lillian knows my tastes well. A freshly drawn pint of Guinness sat square in the middle of the bar. The foam was still falling in it. The beer wasn't five minutes out of the keg. The Guinness logo was centered facing me. Nice touch. I dropped the bag in the corner and placed the wine on the bar. Lillian had mentioned chicken, etc. for dinner, but it looked as though we would be eating late. The ladies appeared to have other activities in mind. Something strenuous to work up an appetite. Lillian quickly fashioned a pair of vodka tonics for herself and Laura. Laura and I took high-backed barstools set next to each other. I seated her, of course – mom would have been proud; appalled at the circumstances certainly, but definitely proud of my manners – then took my seat to her right. Lillian stood behind the bar. We clinked glasses to toast the night to come. "Here's to us, the good people that we are," I proposed. "To us!" They answered together. "And to a wonderful weekend." Lillian added, taking my free hand. She raised it to her lips to run the tip of her tongue up my palm. Felt that one in my nuts. Laura laid a hand on my leg. Mr Snake was starting to get interested. Even wearing loose-fit jeans, there's not much room for my dick to grow. There came an ominous bulge along my thigh. Laura noticed. She couldn't help it. The bulge was growing beneath her fingertips. She got that startled look again as she measured my cock by touch. "My word! This... You're... My... goodness!" Laura stuttered. Lillian gulped on her drink, choking back laughter. Laura's eyes flickered down to her hand, then back up to meet mine. Her cheeks were flushed. "Laura dear, you're blushing," Lillian chided as she boosted herself on folded arms, peeking over the bar. "I told you that our young friend has the largest..." She paused as though searching for the right word. "...largest appendage I've ever had the pleasure of utilizing. Admittedly it was only for a second, but you saw it yourself a few weeks ago. He also..." "Yes," I interupted smoothly, "and in addition to my 'appendage', I come equipped with one or two other features which you might find interesting. We'll let you discover them yourself over our time together. Won't we Lillian." I glanced to our hostess still standing behind the bar. Lillian's turn to look startled. She grinned, then nodded, tipping her drink toward me in salute. "Yes, you are right. I agree that is best, James." Her eyes were twinkling. I matched her grin as I reached to Laura's chest to slip one hand beneath her robe. It was time to rock her world again. Laura's eyes grew round. My fingertips felt the edge of soft fabric covering her full breast. I pushed beneath the fabric to capture her nipple. Her breath caught. She seemed too shocked to say anything or stop me. I don't think she'd ever had a man just start fondling her breasts in the middle of a conversation. Breast flesh firm. Nipple, ripe; round; mature; the nub crinkled as I rolled it between my thumb and finger. I tweaked her engorged nubbin, then released it. A soft gasp escaped Laura's lips. She sat straighter, leaning into the back of the stool. Her chest rose. Her shoulders pulled back, pressing her breast into my palm. Very nice tits. I squeezed the firm globe once. Laura gasped again. Louder. I could almost hear her pussy get juicy. Withdrawing my hand, I took a hit off my beer. "Mmmmhh! Delightful. There's nothing like Guinness. Thanks for thinking of me Lillian." "You're welcome James, though I must say that Leo likes it too. We keep a pony keg on tap." I licked the foam from my upper lip, demonstrating a bit of my talented tongue. Laura didn't miss the implication. "My g-goodness!" she whispered this time. In that moment, I knew: I was going to take Laura to places she'd never been. The key was to keep her off balance. She had been secure in her place of authority. That had changed when we kissed. It was time to change things a bit more; to turn her world completely upside down. Hang on dear Laura. You're in for a helluva ride. "Well Laura, fair is fair: you touch mine, that must mean that I'm allowed to touch yours. Now let's see what you're wearing for me tonight beneath this robe." I set the beer on the bar, then reached to the tie of her robe. Slipping the half-knot slowly, I watched her eyes as I spread the panels wide. Beneath she wore the a skimpy bikini. Tiger stripe design; white and black with dashes of brilliant red here and there cupped her heavy breasts. The bra was underwired. The décolletage was deep: much of her full breasts were on display. The pattern did nothing to disguise the heavy nobs of her turgid nipples embossing the fabric. The crosslighting was perfect. Even the bumps dotting her large aureolae were apparent. There was just the faintest outline of a conservative maillot visible on Laura's nicely tanned belly, thighs and upper breasts. Obviously she had only recently been sunbathing in this much more daring bikini. Apparently preparing herself for a new scene; a new seduction; me. Below, Laura's tanned belly ran down to the plumb mound of her mons. Curls embossed; Laura had a bit of a bush. Elaborate bows held the small triangle of fabric to her hips. Her shape was svelte; well maintained, with the soft padding of a mature woman. Laura was a swimmer. It showed. Her thighs, flattened against the chair, were slender. The faint fading remnents of stretch marks formed during her two pregnancies showed as faint stripes on her belly and hips. Extending my arm, I ran a finger over one heavy breast to scrape the nipple. Laura looked down at her chest, just watching. I think she was a bit shocked. One hand tightened on her glass. The other a clenched fist in her lap. Her head fell back. Her eyelids fell. A shiver ran through her belly. She looked up to me again. Need, fear, excitement and wonder warred in her eyes. I was indeed taking her to places she hadn't known existed. She watched my finger drop into the gap between her thighs. Down over the plump of her mons, lightly scraping across her clit to the moist heat below. With an involuntary shudder, her thighs closed around my hand. "Ohhhh, don't – " she began, her voice etched with sudden angst. There was a whole range of emotions in those two words. "You have no say in this, Laura." I whispered gently. "Besides, we both know that you want it. I can feel it coming off you in waves. You are mine tonight. I'm going to touch you; taste you; feel you; fuck you. I look forward to watching you naked, on your knees sucking my cock." Lillian gasped behind. My attention remained locked on Laura, though I knew that Lillian was just as turned on watching me seduce her friend. "I-I can't... I've never..." Laura began in a whisper. "You will tonight." I said with assurance. "Definitely. Tonight you're going to learn to suck cock. My cock." Stunned, seeing the look in my eyes; hearing my words and my tone, Laura could only nod. "Ladies..." I announced, "... with your permission, the next twenty-four hours are fantasy time. I think that's part of the reason you asked me over. Here are the rules: if it doesn't work, we'll try something else. Other than that, there are none." "We're going to explore a few of our fantasies together. I must tell you that we're already exploring one of mine: having a ménage a trois with two beautiful mature women. Each of you alone makes my dick hard. Having you together is a waking wet dream." Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 8 Both women lit up at that. Even Laura appeared a bit more into it. Surprised that I was being so forward too, but definitely more relaxed. I raised my glass to them. "I'll say it again, 'here's to us, the good people that we are'" I toasted, clinking crystal with each. "Now let's have some kinky fun." I set the glass on the bar, then turned back to Laura. "Open your thighs again Laura. I want to take a look at this beautiful body of yours. It's perfect, except for one small thing. I'm looking forward to going down on you, but you have far too much hair on your pussy. Your friend Lillian is going to shave you for me." I glanced over to Lillian. A blush feathered her cheeks, but her brown eyes were sparkling eager as they met mine. I looked to Laura. She held my eyes for a moment fearful, then shifted to Lillian. Laura raised one hand as if to halt. A tremor ran through her body. Goosebumps made the fine hairs on her arms stand up. Her mouth opened, but before she could speak, Lillian overrode any objections she may have had. "No Laura! Think about what James just said, and remember what we agreed! We promised each other. I did warn you that he might insist. You're just going to have to explain to George that your vulva is bare because it is more comfortable. Screw him if he doesn't like it. He may be your husband, but he doesn't own you." Lillian looked at me as if to explain. "Laura's husband George is a touch conservative. He is good company; a smart man; a good doctor, but he's completely vanilla in bed. He's..." As if to defend him, Laura interupted. She only succeeded in damning him with faint praise. "He's a good man, a good father and a good husband. I love him with all my heart. It's just that he's lost some... some enthusiasm since he reached fifty. With Haley and George Junior gone now, I thought we could..." she hesitated, then blushed again "...well, get back to the way we were when we were first married. But..." It all went to at least partially explain why Laura had taken Lillian as a lover. If she couldn't get it at home, she had to get it somewhere else. Hhhhmmm. The mark of a passionate woman. One who is open to many things. Maybe desperate for many things. Hhhhhmmmmm. I scraped my fingernail across Laura's clit again. Her breath caught. Her eyes closed. Her neck arched. She moaned. All fight went out of her. She was mine to do with as I pleased. "Well who knows.", I said as I brushed my fingertips across her pouting mound. "This may be just the change George needs. He's seen you from one view for twenty-some years. It may be time to adjust his perspective a skosh." Laura blinked, then looked thoughtful. "But enough about husbands and lovers.", I continued. "You don't need to defend or explain. The only thing that matters is that tonight, you two are mine to do with as I please. Okay?" "God yes!" from Lillian. No hesitation. "Y-yes, I... but this is so... so naughty..." from Laura following somewhat reluctantly behind. "What you're doing to me... I can't..." "You can and you will," I interupted, abruptly slipping down from the tall stool. "The three of us are going to have some fun together. Starting right now." I turned her chair to face me. "Scoot your bottom forward on the chair. That's it." Laura's thighs opened. I slowly plucked the bows from her bikini. Eyes wide, she bit her lip to hide the trembling. Her delicate hands grasped the armrests, knuckles white. A shudder ran through as she felt the knots separate at her hips. She was being laid bare by a new lover. Laura's thought process and the emotions generated were plain to both Lillian and me. It's all happening so fast! A man; for the first time since her marriage, a man other than her husband – one of her students for God's sake! – was getting her ready for sex. He was going to put his penis in her vagina. He was going to make love – no, he was going to shove his cock in her pussy! Her shaved pussy! He was going fuck her! She moaned. Her pussy was tingling; flushed and juicy; her belly tight with fear, aching need and vast excitement. The dichotomy of the situation made her crazy: a young man, a student of hers, one less than half her age, had taken charge. She had always been in charge. But the young man had usurped her authority. His confidence was amazingly attractive; seductive even. She had to explore this more. He made her want it. Lillian moved closer, leaning over the bar again to watch with glittering eyes. Laura's eyes too were drawn down to her lap. She peered between her breasts as the front panel of her bikini fell away. She shivered. Blond was definitely her natural color. Laura's mons and plump vulva were covered with dark blond curls in a natural vee shape. At some point she had trimmed the thatch, but the hair was dense, hiding her fat pussylips. Her thighs and the upper curve of her mons were bare; undoubtedly from a recent bikini shave. The blond curls centered low over the divide of her sex were dark and shiny with slippery wet. I leaned forward to run my finger down through the blond curls along the swelling lips of her pussy. Yep, slippery wet. Back up again, the lips opening in the wake, to tease the hood of flesh covering her clit. I passed the finger beneath my nose, inhaling her scent then touched it to my tongue. Mmmmhh! Tangy! Laura gasped. Her face flooded bright red when I tasted her wet, then paled when I offered my finger to her lips. She shook her head once mutely, almost a shudder. I held it there, waiting patiently. In the end she felt that she had no choice but to open her lips. She sucked her juice from my finger. A thrill ran through her as she tasted herself, probably for the first time in her life. Her tongue rolled around the end of my finger until I pulled it from her lips. I slipped from the barstool and stepped between her legs to take her head in my hands. Tilting her slightly, I brought my lips down to hers. Laura's arms slithered through mine and around my neck as our tongues danced within her mouth. I tasted her on her tongue. She moaned through the kiss. Urgently. We could all smell the aroma of her excitement. Behind, Lillian's touch startled. I felt my belt and jeans loosen about my waist. Lillian's hands slipped between us to unbutton my shirt. I released Laura's head a hand at a time to allow Lillian to slip it from my shoulders. My jeans and boxers slid down to my thighs. Mr Snake was fully prepared. Laura sat there, eyes closed, arms locked around my neck, kissing me. She was not aware of the moment until she felt his swollen head nosing through the furry lips of her vulva. Her eyes sprang open. She moaned, lost, as the head of my cock teased her clit. Her arms tightened around my neck as Lillian guided my cock through her entry. Her pussy was wet and ready. With a smooth push, the head of my cock stretched the small mouth of her vagina. We both felt the resistance give way as the head passed through. She gasped. Just that quickly, Laura was getting fucked. Time out. Now Laura is in her late forties. She's had two kids. Exercising the muscles in her vagina has not been a top priority in her busy life. But for a mature woman, she was if not tight, certainly not loose. She was also very wet. I could only assume that George didn't have near the 'appendage' as that then burrowing in, stretching the velvet walls of her pussy. My assumption was confirmed almost immediately. Time in. "Oh my God!", Laura shuddered as Mr Snake surged in, back a bit, then in again, deep. "Oooohhhh...! Soooo big...! Uuuuhhhhhhh..! Oh God...! 've never... Mmmmmmhh ...!" Laura spread her thighs wide for me, hooking her knees over my hips. She opened herself and pulled me inside as Lillian pressed her body against my back. Mr Snake slid home, completely sheathed in Laura's pussy. I flexed my ass, pumping blood into my dick. Buried deep, the swollen head kissed her cervix. Laura moaned again as her vagina contracted, gripping my cock. Mr Snake was very pleased. Her arms fell from my neck to hook beneath my arms. Hands clasped to the small of my back, she pulled me close, driving my dick deep. She broke the kiss and buried her face in my chest. A shudder ran through her body. Her pussy rippled. She wailed voicelessly as her orgasm surged. Surprised at how quickly she had cum, I began pumping, taking her higher. Her fingernails dug into my bare butt as her second climax overtook the first. Laura was flying; off in her own little world, revelling at the sensation of Mr Snake pistoning in her greedy pussy. She wailed wordlessly as I slid my hands under her ass and pulled her up off the barstool, driving my dick deep. When she felt me lifting her body, she went looney tunes, wailing. All decorum went out the window. Her ankles crossed at the small of my back. For the first time in her life, appearances meant nothing; the pleasure shooting through her body, everything. I doubt that she had ever been as excited as she was at that instant. She was beyond orgasm. Laura threw her arms around my neck, her ass pumping frantically. Her skin took on a fine sheen. A third climax surged. Cum jetted from her pussy, showering my dick and balls with her juices. Laura squirts. As I pumped my cock deep, she froze, arms locked about my neck, holding me close with my cock buried deep. Locked to me, suddenly unable to move as she peaked, her orgasm raced through her shuddering body. Keening wordlessly, breathlessly, desperately, she held it for a moment rigid, straining... straining... straining... ...then seemed to melt into me, her strength drained. Laura sagged within my arms, held up by my hands beneath her ass and my erection buried in her pussy. We were dripping with cum, all hers. I slid Laura's ass back onto the stool. My cock snaked out of her pussy, still rock hard erect. She shuddered, mewing as she felt the shaft slip away. I hadn't had time to reach orgasm. Laura had been on a hair trigger. I've never seen a woman orgasm so hard so quickly. Exhausted for the moment, her head fell forward against my chest. "My God!" She murmured, her panting breathes whispering against my shoulder. "My God... I've never... felt that kind of... how... what you did... what you did to me James...!" "You'd better get used to it Laura," I chuckled. I was barely winded. She climaxed so quickly, I had not broken a sweat. "Our evening together has only just begun. Now sit back and watch while I do your friend here. It's Lillian's turn." Lillian was molded to my back. Her pebbled nipples rasped across the muscles. One hip grew warm and wet from her hairless pussy, grinding. Voiceless, needy mews muffled from my shoulder blades as her lips and tongue trailed there. Her arms snaked around my hips. Soft, urgent hands held my shaft, cupped my balls, fingers working velvet. I took the hand cupping my nuts to pull her around. While I had been busy with Laura, Lillian had lost her robe. She too wore a bikini; a thong bikini, tiny even for her elfin body. The bikini was tan-through, almost transparent: splashes of oversized flowers, pink and blue with white centers; stems and spear-like leaves green; no flower complete. Beneath, her body tantalized. Her areolae, swollen nipples and the pouting lips of her bare pussy were plain to see, beckoning. The bikini bottom was no more than a g-string cupping her sex, the triangle below colored damp with her wet. Long bows tied low, hung limp from her curved hips. The first dimple of her pussy divide peeked over the fabric stretched across the padded hump of her mons. The soft cups of the halter top barely contained breasts and aureolae seeming too large for her little body. Her tits quivered to the tremors racing from her belly. Lillian was lust wrapped in a small package. Fast; hard; immediate. She'd worn the bikini for me. She'd wanted me to see her body available: parts open; parts hidden. Flesh tanned golden but for breasts, the deepest furrow of her ass, and a tiny triangle centered over her hairless pussy. But she wanted sex more. Needed sex more. She was burning for it. My sex. Now. Fast dance. We'd done it before. When Lillian whirled to my front, she grapped my erection again with one hand, squeezing. We plucked the bows from her hips, allowing the strings to fall to her thighs. Her to the left, me to the right, or vice versa. Always right hand. Practice makes perfect. We'd done it before. For an instant, the scrap of cloth held fast between her thighs, stuck to her pouting pussylips by her juices seeping. She peeled it away, girl goo leaving an arcing thread that finally broke, snapping a line down her thigh. Lillian jumped into my arms, moaning urgently. Her ankles crossed at the small of my back; opened wide, bare pussy pressed to my belly. One hand hooked around my neck; the other reached back to pluck the bow at her back, then her neck. The cups fell away from her breasts, heavy for a small woman: full globes flattening slightly against her chest as she leaned away. Lillian looked up into my eyes searching. Finding matching lust, her gumdrop nipples crinkled cherry. Her bare butt rested in my cupped hands, flesh soft yet alive: tight, tensing, eager. I leaned back against the railing of the bar and pulled her pixie body up, running her bare pussylips along my erection. Down, then up again, teasing. Lillian gasped as her swollen clit slid along the shaft. Lillian reached down, attempting to push the head of my cock into her slit, but I wasn't through teasing. I lifted one hand away from her ass. Panicked, adrenaline racing, limbs tingling, she grabbed my neck to keep from falling, eyes wide at the sudden lurch. I smacked her ass. Hard. Then smacked it again. Handprints overlaid, white, then flushed red on her rear cheek. Her eyes went limpid, wanting. Beside, Laura gasped. Blushing, she watched us through hooded eyes. Her hand crept down to her pussy, one finger slipping along the matted lips, then diving in to caress her turgid clit. I cupped her ass again. Laura watched as Lillian rubbed her pussy against my cock. Up. Down. Up again. A rhythm caught; growing more urgent as Lillian began pumping her ass. My hands slipped back to her thighs giving more leverage. She used it to work herself against me; against my cock, coating the shaft with her slickness. My fingers pulled at Lillians thighs. Her nether lips opened below; moist heat beckoning. Her frustration grew with each pass. Her whimpers grew desperate, until Laura took pity. I felt gentle fingertips caressing my sac beneath. Then as Lillian rose high in my arms, those fingers quickly centered my dick. When Lillian forced herself down again, she impaled herself. My cock was suddenly there: inches deep, stretching her sheath. She screamed at the sensation; a sudden spear of pleasure-pain knifing. She froze for an instant in shock, but the immediacy of the sensation drove her on. She could not remain still, perched on that pinnacle. Movement, pumping, arching against it was necessary, or so demanded the primal lizard pleasure center at her core. Lillian was on a hair trigger too. She pumped her pussy on Mr Snake about five times before she started wailing to the ceiling. I mean I'm good, but I'm not that good. At least, I don't thing I am. Lillian tried to tell me different. In no uncertain terms. Continuously. For about ten minutes. She glued her chest to mine and worked her ass, driving my cock deep, fucking herself. Lillian set the pace, moaning and whimpering her need and my expertice through clenched teeth. All I had to do was lean back supporting her, hang on and let it happen. Laura remained there on her knees behind Lillian, watching and occasionally stroking me while she diddled her own clit. She hooked her fingers behind my sac gently fondling my balls. I'd caught the rhythm again, thrusting up as Lillian jammed herself down. Slamdance fucking. I felt myself getting close when Laura gave her friend Lillian an assist. Lillian rammed herself down again, then shot up almost off the top of my dick, straining. Her eyes flew open as she launched again, her pussy muscles rippling around the head of my dick. That seemed to suck the cum right out of my nuts. Lillian jammed herself down, driving my dick deep again; also driving Laura's finger deep into her bouncy little ass again. Mr Snake could feel Laura's finger working in Lillian's ass through the thin membrane. Oh mama! Laura reached up to stroke my nuts again, urging the ropes of cum to jet. I couldn't take any more. I grabbed Lillians hips and forced her down, grinding her pussy against my pubic bone. Her clit was caught there. Mr Snake started shooting cum. I roared. Lillian shrieked in tune. Impaled on both my cock and the Laura's finger Lillian's little ass was pumping like mad against my hold. Laura groaned her own small orgasm. Little Lillian was ballistic. In truth, I was seeing stars myself. When the room came back into focus, Lillian was a dead weight in my arms. She was slumped against my chest, eyes closed tight, gasping, her arms loose about my neck. It took most of my remaining strength to deposit her on a vacant barstool. I took a seat myself, then relaxed to that wonderful after-great-sex glow. I hadn't been in the house thirty minutes – Hell, I hadn't gotten my pants off! – and I'd fucked two women, both to stupendous orgasms. That had to be some kind of a record. It certainly was for me. I looked down to find Laura still on her knees watching us. I leaned back, spreading my knees. Time to be cruel. "You're up Laura..." I panted, "...its time for you to learn something new. " I pointed to Mr Snake, now drooping and gooey with cum. "Remember I told you that I was looking forward to you on your knees sucking my cock. Now's the time. Crawl over here and clean me." Laura was stunned. She started to shake her head. "You're too big... I've never done that... It's all slimey with – " "Don't make me get up," I interupted with an evil smile. "I'll take you over my knee and spank your bare butt too, then make you suck my dick anyway. Now get over here and take care of business. It's about time you tasted my cum." Lillian was surprised at my tone, but she was even more surprised when Laura crept between my knees. Eyes wide at what she was daring to do, Laura reached out hesitantly, but I gently fended her hand away. "No hands sweetheart. Lips and tongue only. And while we're at it, lose the robe and the top of that bikini. Display yourself for me. I think you'll look much more gorgeous – if that's possible – on your knees naked when you're sucking my cock." Laura blushed to her tits, but she shrugged the robe from her shoulders, then looked up to me with those needy eyes as she plucked the strings from her bikini top and reluctantly tugged it away. Her bare tits bobbed, then settled. Laura has pear-shaped lovelies still firm; white mounds with tanlines running down diagonal just north of her nipples. At that moment, her nubbins were crinkled high, the rich red-brown shade of a mature woman's once filled with babies milk. The top dropped to the floor. She ran her hands down over her breasts, watching herself palming the nipples. She peered up to me as she cupped the heavy cones, lifting slightly as though offering them to me. Lillian was wide-eyed watching her friend. I maintained a stern expression – God knows how – but even I felt a sudden thrill when Laura looked up with those fearful, needy eyes. "God James, y-you make me so hot! What you do to me..." Laura shook her head as if to clear it. Apparently that didn't help. A shudder ran through making her naked flesh quiver. "George... no one has ever made me feel this way," she continured. "I've never been so wet, or felt so... so wanton." Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 8 I could only nod my head, watching with glittering eyes as she knelt before me. Looking straight into my eyes, she opened her mouth and wrapped her soft, ruby lips around the head of my cock. Another tremor ran through her naked body as she knelt there licking the cum from the shaft. Jesus, her tongue felt good! Laura swallows. Time out. You know, it could have been just a simple, straightforward evening spent fucking two beautiful older women. When I started giving orders, those two, as strong and confident women as they are, could have laughed and told me to quit being ridiculous. But, because I gave the ladies a chance to indulge in their fantasies, it turned into a mini-orgy. Maybe not so 'mini'. Lillian and Laura were so hot for it, I had a hard time keeping up – pun intended. I think watching each other lose it so completely also freed the ladies to shed any and all inhibitions. In my experience, women are like that: if a woman feels completely secure, certain that no one will judge, she is much more likely to indulge in what had been until that moment, forbidden. Particularly if she has a trusted friend indulging along side. Time in. Lillian got so hot watching Laura suck me, she joined her, kneeling on the floor naked between my knees. She pulled off my boots. My jeans, socks and boxers went too, soon laying in a pile beneath the bar. Laura maintained her hold on my dick, while Lillian began licking my sac. Both women seemed to get excited sucking up and swallowing the remnants of our mutual spend. When I laid my hands on their heads, they moaned in chorus, then kissed. Laura's took my cock in hand. Lillian fondled my nuts. Each laid a hand on the other's breast as their tongues danced together. Mr Snake was halfway recovered, but I had other ideas. First things first. The ladies seemed to be enjoying each other. I felt that they should get a chance to play a bit before I dipped into their bodies again. "You know Lillian, it's about time to make our gorgeous little slut more presentable for us, don't you think?" Both looked up to me; Lillian with shining, eager eyes; Laura's fearful but gleaming. Lillian kissed the tip of my growing erection, then answered. "Yes James, if she is going to play the part, she needs to look the part." She glanced at Laura. "And she also needs the correct dress, makeup and... accoutrements. Don't you sweetie." "Oh God... Yes, if you say so..." Laura's eyes grew even more fearful. But there was no mistaking her excitement either. "I'll do anything you tell me to," she whispered. "You know that, Lillian." Then Laura kissed Lillian, open-mouthed, tongue dancing. Oh Shit! This was looking better and better. No way would I have planned it, but the ladies seemed to have their own agenda. I suddenly found myself in the midst of an ongoing fantasy of their own. Scha-wait! The ladies sort of forgot me for a few minutes. Except of course my hands on their heads, they knelt there naked on their knees fondling each other's bare breasts as they kissed. Good kiss. They glowed when they turned, cheek to cheek, to look up at me, each offering me the other's breast. Oh baby! How'd I get so lucky!? Clean living I guess. "Let's adjourn to the bedroom ladies. It's time for Laura to lose that bush. I abhor pubic hair stuck in my teeth." Lillian met my eyes. She looked like she knew what was coming. I nodded at Laura, whose eyes were glazed. Fear and lust will do that to a woman. "I'm going to taste our wanton woman's juicy little pussy sometime this weekend. Be sure to shave her close. Neither you nor I care for whisker burns. Are we agreed?" Their eyes were alight with excitement. They nodded in unison, bare breasts bobbing. "No objections?" Their heads shook in unison, bare breasts swaying. "Fine. Give me a kiss then get going." Both ladies took a hand. I slipped down from the barstool and pulled them to their feet. They came into my arms, cuddling for a moment. First Laura, then Lillian kissed me. Thoroughly. Then they kissed each other. Thoroughly. Both put a lot of their shared excitement into those kisses. Lots of murmuring sweet obscenities and lavish tongues. Friendly passion at its best. Yum. Off they went, hand in hand, Lillian leading. Before heading down the hall, she stopped, then then glanced at me as she gestured to a chair beside. "Though I do love the view...", she said with a grin, "...here's a robe for you if you want it." Then they disappeared down the hall together, bare asscheeks swaying. Oh that was so much fun to watch. Yum. I took a moment to refresh my beer. The Irish do know how to make a beer. It's so good, you don't mind waiting for the head to settle. Yum. I grabbed my case, my clothes, their bikinis and the robes then, beer in hand, went to find the ladies. Low voices, a faint buzzing and a tinkle of laugher drew me down the hall beyond the kitchen. Light spilled from a doorway. I dropped the bag and draped the clothes over a chair beside the door, then leaned against the jamb to watch. Leo and Lillian have a huge California King four-poster bed that stands about three feet off the floor. It's a helluva playground for intimate games, let alone a marvelous place to sleep. There's room for four people comfortably, six or so if a couple of them are small and everyone's friendly. Lillian had Laura spread across the bed, knees up and arced wide, with two pillows behind her head and a large towel beneath her bare ass. Lillian was on her knees, with her head between Laura's open thighs, concentrating. Both were still naked. Lillian had Leo's cordless beard trimmer in hand, making short work of blond curls sprouting from Laura's mons. After each pass, Lillian flicked the shorn curls into a flowered wastebasket set beside. Laura glanced up when I appeared in the doorway. She blushed to the tops of her heavy breasts. Her knees flinched inward, as though to close her legs, but Lillian smacked one bare thigh in warning without looking up. She went back to trimming Laura's pubes when she subsided. Even I could see from my vantage that Laura's fat pussylips were glistening with her juices. The vibrations from the trimmer pressed against her pussy probably had a lot to do with that. Though I'd bet that Lillian's nimble fingers pulling at the sensitive skin had just as much of an effect. Five minutes later, I'd finished half my beer and Lillian had finished too. Laura's pubic hair was nowhere more than a quarter inch long. Laura sighed as Lillian laid the trimmer on the towel, then wiped her half denuded pussy with a warm, wet face cloth taken from a basin sitting on the floor beside. Laura's eyes grew more dreamy as Lillian picked up a can of shaving cream. Soon Laura's inner thighs, mons, the divide of her asscheeks and the puffy lips of her pussy were coated with white foam. As I idled there sipping my beer, enjoying the view, the razor ran through the foam coating her mons, leaving a strip of smooth bare skin behind. Laura's heavy-lidded eyes met mine. A faint smile creased her lips. Her glance dropped to her parted legs as the razor made another pass. Her eyes closed as she stifled a thrill, afraid that any movement might cause an intimate accident. Lillian was much too careful to let such a thing happen, but it was fun to watch all the same. Laura's shave did not take much time. Lillian is an expert barber. The juices seeping from Laura's bare pussylips left no doubt that she was enjoying every moment. When Lillian dropped the razor into the basin and rocked up on her knees to wipe the remnants of shaving cream away, I put my empty glass on the nightstand and knelt behind her. I reached down beneath her ass. My fingertips brushing along her vulva told me that she was just as juicy. I ran the other hand over Laura's mons, testing the shave. The skin was soft, but as plump and smooth and tight as the flesh of her belly; cool from the menthol in the foam. She moaned softly, quivering at my touch. Her shudders sent residual thrills running through the soft mounds of her breasts. She leaned up on her elbows to view her plump and now completely hairless mound. The fat lips of her pussy were swollen, with the thin inner lips blossoming out, pink and juicy. Her clit was very much in evidence, hooded but obviously erect. A very pretty puss. Extremely fuckable. Lillian jumped as I smacked her bare bottom. She looked back up to me. She gave me a peck on the cheek, then licked her lips with a grin. "What do you think sweety?" She asked. "Doesn't Laura's pussy look smooth enough to eat now?" "Nice job lover." I answered. "It seems that you get to have your pussy licked. You get her tongue. I get her tail. Of course now she's going to have to keep her juicy little pussy bare. Those tiny hairs will make her pussy very itchy if she lets her bush grow again. I hope you explained that to her before you started." Doubt grew in Laura's eyes. She glared at Lillian. Lillian stuck out her tongue at Laura, then grinned. "Lillian, you naughty girl." I chided. "From Laura's expression, I'd guess that you neglected to mention that minor difficulty. Oh well, too late now. You two might want to have a conversation about the relative benefits of bikini waxing or laser hair removal later. But right now, I think it's time for a shower. Rinse yourselves off while I slip into my robe, then we can relax for a while and see what develops. We're in no hurry now. We've got all night to play." Lillian's grin widened. "Well, I may have forgotten to mention that particular side effect, but I am quite certain Laura will forgive my lapse when you demonstrate the advantages of having a hairless vulva." "I did hint that you might have a pleasant surprise for her, given that she allowed me to shave her." Lillian's eyes were twinkling with merriment. "Something about your oral apptitude. Besides, I'm looking forward to sampling her denuded treasures myself. I've never had the chance to taste her bald pussy, and you do make it sound so delicious." Laura's eyes alternated for a moment between doubt and need. Need won going away. "You two are starting to worry me a bit...", she said hesitantly. "...but – My Lord! – you do make me so hot! I just know that you're going to make me do things. I can't believe you... you sh-shaved m-my... shaved me down there Lillian! What else are you going to do to me, I wonder...?" She was still nervous. Lillian and I were moving fast, per usual. Laura had not prepared herself for the speed. But we all knew that she was too caught up in the scene to back down. It was becoming apparent to me that we three shared at least one fantasy. I knew that it would be fun discovering whether or not there were more. I thought that I had an inkling of Laura's most intense fantasy. My sixth sense was humming again. I held out my hand to Laura. She took it automatically, but there was an instant of hesitation. Her palm was damp. Her brownish nipples ripened as I pulled her to her feet and into my arms. Her nipples were like stones pressing into my chest. She stood trembling, arms at her sides. Another shudder ran through her as I thrust my tongue against hers. Laura slipped her hands to my hips, still tentative. The bare skin beneath her fingertips seemed to burn her. It was obvious that it had been some time since she had felt the hard, smooth flesh of a young man beneath her palms. Her hands fluttered along my hips, then finally settled, fingers splayed at the small of my back. Better there than lower. I took her head in my hands, tilted it slightly, and kissed her again. Her eyes closed. She made a sound, deep in her throat, more felt than heard. The kiss was light, just a feather's touch, then grew more demanding with each passing second. I traced her lips with my tongue. They parted slightly allowing me entry. She started, then moaned into my mouth as I placed one hand across the cheeks of her bare butt and forcibly pulled her body to mine. Mr Snake was suddenly there, alive and awake, throbbing against the soft flesh of her belly. I pulled back slightly and whispered into her mouth, punctuating each phrase with a brush of my lips. "Tonight you're mine... I'm going to take you places... places from your most depraved and wicked dreams... I'm going to have your body... your mouth... your pussy... your breasts... perhaps even your ass... I'm going to terrify you... but I know that you want... you need what I have to give... that's why you came tonight... isn't it... your friend Lillian is going to assist me... to assist you... you'll be helpless... completely helpless to stop me... to stop us... unless... unless you say your name... remember that... we'll only stop... if you say your name..." Unconciously, beneath her breath, Laura began chanting a litany as she listened. "...oh god... ...oh god... ...oh god... ...oh god..." "Tell me Laura," I insisted in a whisper, my lips brushing hers. "When will I stop." "O-only if I s-say 'Laura'." She stuttered, her whisper gravelly with lust. Laura's excitement and fear reached a fever pitch. Suddenly to planted her hands on my ass and molded her nude body to mine. Her mouth opened wide. Her lips crushed to mine. Our tongues dueled, hers licking my lips, then thrusting into my mouth. She moaned from her soul, beyond passionate. Hell, I was excited just listening to myself. But I'd touched a chord not only in Laura, but in Lillian too. She molded her elfin body to my back, wrapped her arms around us to squeezed and fondle Laura's ass. Her breasts flattened against my back, pebbled nipples indenting. She moaned in chorus with Laura as she nibbled and licked at my shoulder blades. She would have gone for my neck if she could have reached it. But I was too tall; she too small. As it was, the sensations of agile tongue and sharp teeth across my back sent shivers through me. Just for tonight, maybe for the first time in their lives, the ladies were truly letting go. No control. No inhibitions. No regrets. No worries. Well, for Laura, maybe a concern or two. Mr Snake was definitely likin' it, and it was pretty fuckin' exciting for me too. For a minute, I wondered if I was up to the whole scene. Time out. Think about it: there I was with two women, both over twice, hell almost three times my age. Lots of experience there. I could have been over my head. Then I thought about it. Sure, Lillian had lots of experience – no doubt about that! – but she and I had been doing each other for eight months. She knew me. I knew her. The intimidation factor was nil. Laura, on the other hand, was new; almost an unknown. For almost three years she had been the ultimate authority figure at school. The intimidation factor should have been high. Except... Except that Laura had no experience in the current venue, that of having sex with a man outside the marriage bed. Virtually all her sexual experience was with one man over the span of twenty-some years. Add to that her admission that her husband was less than adventurous in his approach to mattress dancing. Hhhmmm. That meant that in reality Laura had one experience repeated maybe fifteen hundred times with one man. How sad. Then I thought, how incredibly boring! No wonder she had hooked up with Lillian! Hell, I had lots of experience with literally hundreds of different females in a dozen different positions within a hundred different venues, from my bed to – well, to Lillian's barstool. I realized then that Laura's intimidation factor was also nil. I also realized that the opposite of my original premise was most probably true for her: in this venue, she was intimidated by me. Hhhmmm. Total intimidation factor: nil. Total kink factor: way high. That brought to mind my basic rule: confidence, man, confindence. No more worries. Time in. I had wanted to take my time, but it looked like it was no longer my choice. I'd done too good of a job getting the two of them prepared. Particularly Laura: she was so ready to be taken – to be fucked – she was vibrating. Lillian was not far behind. Well shit, to be truthful, so was I. Me and Mr Snake. I kissed Laura hard a last time, then urged her back down across the bed. Lillian disengaged after giving my cock a quick squeeze, then practically launched herself at Laura's splayed frame. She landed between her friends legs, belly to belly, naked breasts quashed to naked breasts. The ladies locked lips, hands to each others heads, undulating their bodies together. Lillian's bare butt looked luscious describing circles and she rubbed her hairless pussy against Laura's. I just watched, enjoying their love-making. They finally broke the kiss and Lillian looked back over her shoulder. "Come on James. And I do mean Cum On, you stud. Join us down here. Some of us need to get fucked. Laura's cute little bare pussy is just juicy for that monster dick of yours." I grinned. "Get her ready for me. She looks like she's ready to lick some pussy. I know I'm ready. But first, I want her rinsed off. Shaving cream is definitely not on the menu. Let's see how fast you two can shower." I thought about it for a moment. The ladies would want time not only to shower, but also check their makeup, etc. "Let's see," I continued after a pause. "...for every second over twenty minutes, you get a swat." Lillian's eyes widened as she gave me a beautific smile. I thought about that for a second. "Check that. You'd stay in there for an hour: you like getting spanked too much. Instead, for every second over twenty minutes, she gets a swat." "Oh pooh! You're no fun – " Lillian pouted. "Now you've got nineteen minutes." I announced. "What, I didn't – " Laura objected, obviously shocked. "Make that eighteen minutes." I amended. "You wouldn't dare...!" Laura stated doubtfully. "Seventeen minutes." I said looking straight into her eyes. "Sweety, he only bluffs playing poker." Lillian again. "Sixteen minutes." "He means it, Laura. We'd better hurry – ". "Fifteen minutes." I said ominously, glancing at my watch. The ladies glanced at each other. Lillian grinned. Suddenly they were scrambling off the bed, bare butts flashing white and breasts bobbing in their haste to get to the bathroom. "Fifteen minutes ladies..." I called after them. "...and if I find any stray curls left on Laura's pretty, I'm going to use a big black belt on both your butts." "Is that a promise?" Lillian called out over the sound of the shower spraying. "Shut up Lillian!" Laura pleaded in a forceful whisper. "Let me in there quick..." The shower door snapped shut. I stepped close to the bathroom door to watch and listen for a moment. Their shapes shadowed the frosted glass. "...if I get spanked with a belt tonight because of you young lady, I'll take a belt to your butt myself!" Laura hissed as she leaned against the wall and spread her legs. "Promises, promises..." Lillian whispered in return as she reached for the razor and knelt to check Laura's pretty. I smiled to myself, slipped into the robe, retrieved my glass and went to pour myself another Guinness. Okay, a short one. I needed my strength, but I needed to be sober too. Those two were already drunk with excitement. One of us had to keep his wits about him. Note the masculine pronoun. I listened to Diana while I sipped the beer and watched the sun go down through the trees. Lillian's hairdryer sang faintly after a few minutes. It cut off again just as Diana's lively rendition of 'Popcycle Toes' began. The song made me wish that I'd brought my camera. She and I finished the song and the Guinness together. The ladies had about twenty seconds left when I sauntered back the the bedroom. Just before I reached the doorway I heard muffled whispers and scurrying feet. I paused for a few seconds, then at fifteen minutes on the dot I went in. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 9 This is the twelfth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter III, Interlude IX, Natasha ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart... sexy... sophisticated... and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. In this interlude we meet our hero's connection to European aristocracy, his White Russian lady. Natasha is tall, blond, beautiful, young, intelligent, rich, sexy, sophisticated... ...and has a set of the biggest boobs that James has ever had the pleasure of meeting face-to-nipple. Natasha adores equally Grand Opera and Mr Snake. She really wears a bikini and she swallows too. Did I mention that Natasha is the daughter of Russian Royalty? Best of all, Natasha is very much enamored of our young Mr Masterson. Let's follow along as our hero gets to know a new lady in his life... Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ III The Ladies in My Life "...Helped Dad service a couple of aircraft. Escorted Natasha to La Bohéme. Did Natasha..." Interlude IX: Natasha Next up is my connection to European aristocracy, Natasha. She's my White Russian lady. Natasha is a 28-year-old International Banker, originally from St. Petersburg. She is beautiful, and has the smarts you would expect of an LSE grad. Tall and willowy at about 5'10", 140, she has long wavy blond hair, sculpted cheekbones and flashing blue eyes. Her skin is perfect, unblemished and creamy-white with only the lightest of tans in the summer. Her legs are long and slender, and she has the most gorgeous ass I've ever had the pleasure of holding in my hands. With all of that, her most distinguishing feature is (are?) her formidable breasts. 34F. Time out. And yes, you read it right. 34F. That is not a typo. To be precise, her measurements are 34F-22-35. Huge breasts, particularly for such an otherwise slender woman. Time in. Set high, her breasts stand out from her chest as heavy, pear-shaped lovelies that come to points capped with protruding areolae the color of coral. Her nipples are slightly darker when crinkled, larger than gumdrops. Her nipples point skyward, and her breasts are all natural. I've been hands-on, eye-to-eye with them, so I know. The one time we discussed them – we were in bed naked at the time – Natasha told me that she began blossoming at a very young age. But it wasn't an abrupt transition. Her breasts grew slowly over the years. Slowly enough that there are few stretch marks, though her lovelies stand out, suspended from her chest. What makes her different from most other women is that her breasts didn't stop growing until she was in her twenties, long after she had attained her adult height and shape. Apparently, the trait runs in her family. Her three sisters, her mother and her mother's four sisters all carry the same big boob gene. Her family portrait is amazing. Natasha is some kind of spectacular in a thong bikini. Though she does hate wearing a top to her suit, first because she always has a difficult time finding one with cups that fit, and second, because she never wore one before she came to the United States. Like many European women and girls, she went topless when sunbathing while growing up in Russia and attending school in Spain, France and England. Family day at the beach must have caused riots. Natasha speaks English with a Russian accent that sends delightful shivers up and down my spine. She says the same thing about my American-accented Russian. The night of the opera, I wore my tux. She wore a black strapless evening gown, slit up the side to her thigh. She also went 'commando'. Just for me. Sweet! I thought the older gentleman sitting on the other side of her was going to have apoplexy. He spent more time looking down the front of her dress, watching her breasts quiver than he did watching the stage production. He had a stiffy like a bar of iron. His wife looked some kind of pissed. Natasha never noticed. She was too wrapped up in the music. When, totally engrossed in the opera, she held my hand in hers and clutched it to her chest, the old guy almost swallowed his teeth. At the intermission, while the ladies were in the powder room, he made a point of meeting me in the lobby. He introduced himself, shook my hand and gave me his card. I recognized his name. He's a retired businessman turned philanthropist worth about twenty billion. He congratulated me on my impeccable taste in women. After I introduced myself, I told him that I had been awarded an academic scholarship by one of his foundations. Mr Billions almost swallowed his teeth again when he learned that I was just on the verge of entering college. Now he wants to hire me. He doesn't yet know what the job is to be, but he wants me on the payroll. He said that he needs a young man with my kind of chutzpah on his staff; that he has a weakness for individuals that carry big brass ones, even those individuals of the female persuasion. Time out. I made certain that he got Natasha's card. I think she fits his weakness well. Hers may be metaphorical, but they are certainly big and brass. She is a ballsy lady. Time in. He also said that the sight of Natasha and me together brought back fond memories of his youth. Apparently I remind him of himself at my age. His wife had warmed up a bit when she and Natasha returned to us, walking together. Natasha has that way about her. I guess I do too. We actually had a nice time together. Though, after intermission, Mrs Billions did maneuver her husband so that she sat between he and Natasha. But when the lights went down, I happened to glance over and saw her casually reach over to give her husband's dick a rub as partial compensation. A wise woman. I'm betting they both got some that night. I know Natasha and I did. And yes, Natasha swallows too. Natasha is White Russian, with connections to the Romanov's. She swears there's not a drop of Slavic blood in her veins. Not that I give a rap, but for some reason, it's important to her. Her great-great-grandmother was a Duchess. Purportedly, the cousin and teenage mistress of the Tsar. The legend in Natasha's family is that she had the tightest, most talented little pussy the Tsar had ever fucked. According to Natasha, he once granted her an estate with 3000 serfs because of certain rather remarkable skill she possessed. As the story goes, she would have him lie back still while she lifted her dress, straddled his groin, impaling herself on his cock. Then remaining motionless herself, she would milk the cum from his cock with the muscles in her pussy alone. I tend to believe the legend. Her lovely ancestress, has demonstrated the same skill for me. I do have to say though, that it takes immense self-control to refrain from pumping one's ass when a woman's pussy muscles start rippling along one's dick. Mr Snake damn near burst a blood vessel. Natasha and I met one afternoon when she spoke to my Economics class on international investing. The teacher, Mr Dent, thought that he might have a chance with Natasha, which is the main reason he invited her to speak. Not happening! Time out. Mr Dent is 30 and single, an ex-jock type. He's also smart and a good teacher. He and I get along pretty well. But he can also be an ass. His first name is Richard. The guys call him Dick or the Dickster. The girls call him 'The Hunk' behind his back, but he knows it. He plays it up. I mean come on! What kind of ego does a man thirty-years old have that he needs a bunch of teenage girls falling all over him? Hell I'm just eighteen. Missy is the youngest girl I go out with now, and she's a month older than me. There are multitudes of women to play with around his age. Why not hook up with them? I do! I do think he is smart enough to know the consequences if he dared dip into any of that young stuff. So it's all tease. Is there such a thing as a pussy tease? If so, that definitely describes The Dickster. Time in. Natasha's eyes lit up when I started asking pertinent questions in English. But her interest peaked when I included a comment in colloquial Russian. Mr Dent, got a bit irritated with that. He had me translate the comment and told me to confine myself to English. I did, but Natasha sort of ignored him and threw out an occasional phrase or joke in Russian, obviously aimed at me. I'd get it; he wouldn't; pissed him off. Natasha and I had a bit of a debate going about the current economic conditions in Russia. We did some intellectual sparring throughout the class. I didn't agree with everything she had to say, but It was interesting. After class Natasha shook Mr Dent's hand briefly, but grabbed my arm as I passed. She held me there for a moment while she gave him a hurried goodbye. The poor dweeb's jaw dropped as she slipped her arm in mine and walked out the door with me. We went to the Commons, had a cup of coffee and began talking together. She was amazed that I could speak Russian so fluently. I explained my penchant for languages, and about living on Navy bases around the world. The Dickster walked in and saw us sitting there. Natasha didn't notice. But I could see that he was pissed as he turned away. But hey, Natasha made the choice, not me. Time out. I thought that I might have a little trouble with him, but I knew that he couldn't fuck with my grade. I had a 98% average going in the class, and had aced the mid-term. Technically, according to his class syllabus, I didn't even have to take the final. I already had my 'A'. I ceased to think about it. Time in. Natasha and I spent an hour talking together, mainly in Russian of course. French too. She was interested to hear that I had my pilot's license. One thing led to another, and before she left we had a date set for that Friday. There's a great little place on a lake in the foothills, a couple hours flight time away. There's a restaurant and bar overlooking the lake, and a few cottages scattered in the trees for overnight guests. They've also set up a hot tub and sauna with changing rooms and showers nestled in a little grove down by the shore. The lake is fed with snowmelt, so the heat of the spa or sauna is welcome after a swim. The owner and his wife know me well. I've done a couple of favors for them; flying in fresh supplies, that kind of thing. Anyway, I made reservations, and we flew over Friday afternoon for dinner. The fresh-caught brook trout was excellent. The venison steak and eggs for breakfast late Saturday morning was just as good. I hadn't planned to stay, but Natasha insisted that we share a bottle of wine with dinner. I insisted that I would not fly after drinking. So she insisted on getting a room. What could I do, but give in. Oh darn. In truth, neither of us had planned to stay. Nor do I think had either of us had planned a seduction. Neither of us had packed for the night. Our reservations had been for dinner, not dinner and a room. I know Natasha liked that. Time out. There's another secret about romancing women: leave room for the opportunity, but don't assume anything. They hate it when you assume. Time in. She also liked it that I paid the dinner check, but didn't argue when she proposed paying for the cottage. Dinner had been my idea, the cottage hers, so it was only fair. That she paid for the room, kept us even. I wasn't putting her in my debt. Since we were staying, Natasha wanted to try out the spa. She hadn't brought along a suit, and too, the halter dress and heels she'd worn to dinner was a bit elegant for après-swim wear. Or for a casual breakfast the next morning. Time out. Smashing dress, by the way. Black silk; above the knee; backless; scoop neckline. I guessed a halter bra. I found later that I had been right. Natasha rarely goes out without a bra. Smart lady. Her heavy breasts need the support, lest they stretch to her waist before she's forty. It helps that all her bras are custom made. Oh, and Natasha – once freed of Russian winters – disdains pantihose. She prefers stockings, usually stayups, but is not averse to garterbelts either. Her little bare pussy framed by black lace bands about her thighs is a sight to behold. Mr Snake certainly approves. Time in. So we spent some money in the Gift Shop. Me, I'm easy. I grabbed a pair of bags, some shorts, a shirt and a pair of slaps. While Natasha was still looking, I ducked out to phone home and let the parents know that we were staying the night. I also checked in with the change in flight plan. Natasha's figure was a bit harder to accommodate. Thank God for separates. She found a bikini top and bottom that matched, and that looked halfway decent. As it was, the bikini top she found that came nearest to fitting was at least a size too small. But it had the largest cups of any on the rack. She also found a short terrycloth robe, a pair of cargo shorts, a crop-top, fresh panties and slaps. I grabbed a couple of toothbrushes and a razor. I should have gotten two. The cottage had two bedrooms, so again I didn't assume. She changed in one, while I used the other. She wore the robe down to the hot tub, but it was like Christmas morning when she slipped it off her shoulders. Like Missy, Natasha can really wear a bikini. Natasha's new bikini was neon yellow spandex with black edging and strings. Seeing the bikini on the rack in the Gift Shop was one thing. Seeing the same small triangles of stretch fabric straining to cover strategic patches of her body was definitely another. With her arms pulled back, Natasha's abundant breasts thrust out, spilling from the bikini top. The triangles of the cups were way too small, only emphasizing the generous size of her pillowy breasts. In the cool night air, her nipples crinkled, darkly embossing the soft spandex cups. Knotted black bows perched high on her hips holding small triangles of yellow fabric to her mound and curved ass. She glanced down to my package and saw the effect. My grin matched hers. Mr Snake was stirring, and she could see. I think she decided about then how she wanted the evening to progress. It must be hard for a woman with her face and figure. She told me that about half the men she meets take one look at her chest and their dicks take over from their brains. They spend all of their time staring at her chest and trying to get her into bed. The other half of the men are too afraid of the combination of looks and brains to take the chance of rejection. We had discussed our relationship briefly while flying in. I had been relaxed and easy-going since we met. She noted that I had been treating her as a person, which was a refreshing change for her. I grinned, and told her that I had an attraction to organized perfection. She blushed. We talked about a lot of things, but in the end, she knew that I found her attractive, and that I was open to a physical relationship. She also knew that I knew it was either going to happen or not. No pressure either way. It was her choice. That night in the hot tub, she made it. I handed her down into the bubbling water, then stepped in and settled back opposite her with arms outstretched along the rim. We tilted our heads back and closed our eyes, just enjoying the heat. The cool mountain air, the scent of the trees in the breeze coming off the lake and the stars twinkling in the clear night sky were marvelous. I breathed deeply and just relaxed. A few minutes later I felt her body slip next to mine. I put an arm around her. She bussed my cheek, then settled back again with her right arm laced under mine, and her hand resting on my left shoulder. Her body language said "Kiss my you fool!", but I took it slow. Sometimes anticipation is an aphrodisiac. Besides, we had all night, and the hot bubbling water felt so good. When I felt her turn toward me, and her hand come to rest on my thigh, I knew it was time. I gathered her in my arms and we kissed. She gave as good as she got. We both enjoyed that first kiss. We spent another twenty minutes or so in the hot tub, touching and tasting, before adjourning to the cottage. This time, there was no question. She pulled me into her room. The sight of her top falling away from her breasts drew the predictable response from my cock. Natasha's eyes grew wide and she muttered "Мой Лорд" under her breath when my bags came down and Mr Snake made his appearance. I knew then that I had given her a nice surprise gift too. She gave Mr Snake a big welcoming smile. Time out. There are a lot of free translation websites. Go find one. Time in. I gathered her in my arms for another of those long, lovely kisses, then slipped the bows from her hips. Her bikini bottoms fell to the floor. Mr Snake smelled pussy, but he also felt fur. Natasha's pussy hair was trimmed – it had to be to wear a bikini that small – but she had a strip of thick blond curls down her mons and sprouting from the lips of her sex. I explained my prejudice. She was tempted, but wavered until I showed her the tongue trick. Surprise gift number two for the little Russian girl with the big boobies! Natasha laid back on the bed, propped up on her elbows with a towel under her ass watching silently while I quickly shaved her puss. She was tense at first, but relaxed in stages as I demonstrated my expertise. She was already wet, but the razor slipping along the pouty lips of her pussy made her more so. Cute little pussy! By the time I softly wiped away the foamy remnants, her pussy was fairly gushing. And her nipples were standing so tall, they looked painful. I gave her clit a lascivious lick, which hinted at the marvelous things to come, then pulled her to her feet. Time out You guys with experience will have long ago recognized my error. You other guys, make a mental note: when there is a chance that your lady friend will use your razor, always have a spare handy. I knew that, but it didn't occur to me that I'd be shaving Natasha's pussy. It should have. I'm smart enough to have planned on the possibility. I must have been distracted. As you may have guessed, I sliced the shit out of my face shaving with that razor the next morning. Natasha giggled as I cursed my way through it, then she kissed the boo boos away. After I finished with it, she used the razor to touch up her shave, nicking her pretty in the process. I kissed her boo boo too. Time in When I finished shaving that plump little pretty that night, Mr Snake was standing at attention, saluting. Natasha grinned as she came into my arms again to kiss me. Then she took him in hand, and led me into the shower. We rinsed the chlorine off each other's bodies, again taking extra time for touch and taste. Then she slipped to her knees to formally greet Mr Snake. She looked up into my eyes with the warm shower beating on her back, then gave me an evil smile and ran her tongue up the length of my shaft. A shudder ran through me, and she gave me that same evil grin before engulfing the head of my cock with her warm, sweet mouth. God it was heavenly! Natasha took her time blowing me. And she is expert at sucking cock. Her tongue seemed to be three places at once. She fondled my sac with the lightest touch, then drew her nails across the skin, teasing. She pumped the shaft while her tongue lashed the head, then slipped the very tip into the tiny hole and wiggled it as though it was diving inside. Occasionally she'd reach through my legs and run her fingers up my ass, teasing my asshole. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 03 Int. 9 It goes without saying that she could deep-throat. She had a regular rhythm. Time and time again, she took me all the way down, her lips pressing against the base of my dick. She'd hold there for a few moments working her throat muscles, swallowing. Then she'd pull slowly back, sucking and slithering her tongue along the length of my shaft. Last, she'd nibble and lick at the head for a few moments before diving deep again. All without gagging once. She worked me over for a good twenty minutes before she would allow me to cum. I was practically dancing before she took pity on me and wrapped her lips around my glans, then pumped me dry. What really set me off was the finger that suddenly stabbed into my ass and nudged my prostate. I had to grab onto the curtain rod to keep from collapsing. Good thing it was secure. I came buckets! Her mouth filled to overflowing as ropes of my cum splashed on her tongue. Cum bubbled from the corners of her mouth as she sucked it from my shaft. Mr Snake was so happy, he gushed. Natasha definitely swallows. Grinning up at me again, she licked the remnants of cum from my softening dick. Then I pulled her to her feet. She rinsed her face and mouth with the warm water, then melted into my arms pressing those wondrous breasts of hers to my chest. We kissed again while the water finally started to cool. We spent time drying each other, touching and teasing before slipping into her bed. But once she settled herself, I immediately went down on her. It was a sudden assault, but Natasha was more than ready. She reached up and hooked her hands over the headboard, taking a death grip as my tongue stabbed through the lips swollen lips of her sex and began swirling around her clit. She laid her legs over my shoulders. I cupped her bare asscheeks, holding her open. Her eyes closed to the sensation. She bit her lower lip. Then I gave her everything I had. I teased her little pussy with my tongue until she was writhing, bucking against my face. Once she reached down to grab my head, but I shook her off, glanced up and told her sternly to hold on to the headboard, or I'd tie her hands there. Surprise flashed through her eyes, then sudden ardor. She reached back, to get a grip, her eyes on fire, and watched as my tongue stabbed her clit again. I thought she was going to break it. The damn thing was creaking from the strain before I was through. (No, not that! The headboard, dummy!) Her head fell back and her eyes closed again as she gave herself up to my tongue. Murmuring curses in Russian and English, she writhed, her asscheeks dancing in my hands as I pleasured her. I used all the tricks I knew to bring her to the edge, then I held her there until she was frantic. Her creamy skin glowed with a fine sheen of sweat. Her hands twisted, working at the headboard, her nails digging into the veneer. Finally, I let her cum. When her orgasm finally hit, I'm certain her cries could be heard across the lake. Her thighs tightened around my neck and her heels dug furrows in my back as she jammed her pussy against my lips and rode my tongue, screaming "О Да! О Да! Вы Безжалостный ублюдок! О Да!". The neighbors must have thought the Russians had landed. Her body was out of her conscious control, bucking with furious passion. She came, then came again while I thrust my tongue deep into her pussy. Her muscles nipped at it, desperate to hold it inside. My face was awash with her juices. After the second orgasm, she began begging me to stop, while thrusting her hips up, frantically driving her bare pussy against my lips and tongue. But knowing her need, I held her down, and took her up again and gave her another just because she's right: I can be such a cruel, ruthless bastard at times. And because I knew she would love it. She did. Finally when I knew that she could take no more, in ecstasy on the brink of pain, I sent her free again. The third orgasm claimed her body, surging through, stronger than the first two. Her wail was louder than those before. Natasha is not quiet when she cums. I withdrew my tongue, and began planting little kisses on her pussy, mons and inner thighs, as she writhed. Easing her down slowly. Gentling her tenderly. A vast shudder rippled through her naked body as her orgasm trailed away, making her lavish breasts dance upon her chest. She slowly relaxed. Her thighs loosened their grip. She went limp in my hands. Her breath came in huge gasps. Her eyes were still closed, lost in the afterglow. I toweled my face dry, then slipped from between her legs. I crawled up the bed to lay propped beside her. Watching her recover, I lightly stroked her face and breasts teasing the tips of her nipples with my fingers. After a few minutes, her breathing slowed. She opened her eyes to mine hovering above and whispered "Великолепный!" She rolled on her side, and pushed me down on my back, then laid her head in the crook of my shoulder. Her bare breasts pressed into my flank and spilled onto my chest. She laid her knee across my thigh, then began softly caressing my cock. I kissed her forehead and gently stroked her hair. We lay together silently for a few minutes before she raised her head, rested her chin on my chest and gave me a happy smile and said "благодарите вас, вид сэр!". Of course I answered "Это было мое удовольствие, справедливая леди! Спасибо.", then kissed to seal it. She laid her head on my shoulder again, snuggling. We relaxed together quietly for a while, saying nothing. Just enjoying the closeness. Eventually we began talking, just gabbing about things: dinner and the flight. An easy conversation for people who were physically sated for the moment and completely comfortable with each other. We each knew that there was more to come. But we had no reason to rush. We both were gathering our strength for the next bout. We laid there together for an hour or so, touching and talking. She told me stories from her life, while I talked about flying or climbing or my parents or whatever. Finally she asked the question that I had known was bound to come. Natasha rolled to her stomach and propped herself across my chest. Her breasts pillowed beneath her. She regarded me with serious eyes and asked how such a young man had learned to pleasure a woman so well. Natasha was not the first woman to ask that question. I always give the same answer: the truth. I told her about the ladies in Misawa, and how they had taught me to become attuned to the woman and her needs. She was delighted with the story. So much so that she began stroking me as I talked. I could tell that she was getting excited as I described the "training sessions" that the women put me through. Soon Natasha began kissing and nibbling at my chest, worrying my nipples. She was ready and Mr Snake was wide awake again, sniffing for her pussy. We were hot for each other, and she wanted my cock in her slippery little pussy, Right Now! She crawled on top of me, then knelt over my groin. She grabbed my shaft and began rubbing the head of my cock along the divide of her pussy, coating the head with her sweet juices. Her eyes closed. She smiled as she teased herself. Mr Snake was lovin' it! God what a sight! Natasha naked, hovering above me, straddling my body with my erection in her hand teasing the freshly-shaved lips of her little pussy with the swollen head of my cock. Her back arched slightly as she braced herself with her free hand on my knee raised behind. Her pelvis swung slightly, back and forth, rubbing her pussy against my cock. Those magnificent breasts swayed with her movements. Her eyes were closed and her smile was interrupted now and again with a flash of something other, when the head of my cock kissed her swollen clit. Each time my cock brushed her clit, her taut body would catch. She would hesitate for an instant, giving a tiny gasp as a quiver ran through her body, sending residual ripples through the flesh of her huge breasts. Her cherry nipples stood tall: large coral-red acorns sprouting from her incredible breasts. I could almost see them throb with each beat of her racing heart. She was beauty and lust personified. Suddenly her eyes opened and she gave me a wild look. Then she raised herself high and slid the head of my cock through the tight entry of her vagina. She looked down on me as more and more of my cock slid inside her body. She was slick with fragrant wet. Thank God for that. She needed the lubricant. I found out later that that was yet another genetic trait shared by the women in her family: small, tight pussies that became amazingly wet when aroused. At that moment, if I hadn't known better, I could have sworn she was virginal. Like I said before, there's tight, then there's cherry. Natasha verged on cherry. As my cock inched inwards, her eyes grew wider and wider. Mr Snake was wide awake and throbbing again. She bit her bottom lip as her pussy stretched to near pain. God she was (is!) tight! She shuddered, caught her breath, closed her eyes then jammed herself down, driving the last few inches deep, Impaling herself on my cock. As her mons came to rest across my pelvis, she cried out "Столь Большой!" I captured her swaying breasts in my hands and began teasing her nipples with my fingers, lightly pinching and pulling at the swollen berries. She reached up, eyes still closed and ran her fingers through her hair. Her back arched and her elbows lifted high, pushing her naked breasts into my hands as she began grinding her mons against my groin, driving my cock deep into her pussy. Soon she was bouncing there, riding me as more and more of my cock slipped from her pussy then slammed back in again. I caught her rhythm and began thrusting up into her, until the head of my cock just kissed the petals of her cervix with each thrust. That first fuck was fast and furious. Suddenly she collapsed to my chest and threw her arms around my neck. A reached down and grabbed the cheeks of her ass, dimpling the flesh with my grip. Holding her ass in my grasp, I raised my knees and planted my feet, then began slamming into her. She cried out "Столь Большой!!!" again, louder this time, but her thrusts matched mine. She rocked up and down on my chest, driving her pussy onto my cock. She began kissing me frantically, her tongue dancing against mine, furious to taste me as I pounded her vagina relentlessly. "Столь Большой!!!" became her chant as we fucked, slamming against one another, and her orgasm approached. Her voice rose higher and higher until she was near-shrieking the words in my ear. Then with a final cry, her orgasm surged, rippling through her body. As she wailed, I slammed into her a last time, burying my cock deep as the jets of my cum shot from the shaft to splash, and again, and again, and again, and a final time against the entry of her womb. My orgasm set hers off again as she felt my cock throb and felt my cum shooting into her vagina. I held her body tightly to mine while she ground her pelvis against me until I emptied myself into her. She shuddered atop me, a quiver ran through her captured body with each jet. Her mouth molded to mine as we kissed, sucking the passion from each other until, with a final shudder, we both collapsed bonelessly. We lay gasping together for a few moments, her head beside mine, her cheek against my shoulder. At last she mewed softly and slid back down from me, allowing my softened cock to slip slowly from her pussy. Great sex is incredibly messy. When we finished exchanging bodily fluids, we didn't have a wet spot, we had a friggin' lake. But we were too exhausted from the intimate action to move. Didn't seem important at the time. Natasha laid the side of her face against my chest, panting. She shuddered again when the head of my cock slipped from her vagina and brushed her clit made hypersensitive by her huge passion. Then she straightened her legs and collapsed again. She laid completely spent between my legs with her belly pressed to my groin and her heavy breasts splayed across my ribs. We cuddled there together, breathing deeply, enjoying the closeness. As our breathing slowed, I began caressing her back, delighting in the texture of her soft skin. Natasha snuggled closer, eyes still closed but with a smile. She almost purred with contentment as I stroked her back. Natasha whispered her chant softly a final time, in English at last. "So Big!" Time in. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There. Are you happy now? You know a few details about some of the ladies in my life. Oh by the way, all the translations are listed in Index II below. Now, on with the story of Mrs Hart's Ache... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms après-(swim) – French for 'after'; as in after swim. brass ones (big) - brass balls; describes a confident, smart and daring person who can take great chances with aplomb. chutzpah Yiddish slang for supreme self-confidence. Commons – the communal area of a school. cock tease – a female that enjoys attracting and/or stimulating males with hints of her sexuality, using provocative dress, gestures and/or presentation, but whose only intent is to tease those males; see 'pussy tease'. commando (going) – sans bra and panties; naked beneath ones outer dress. dweeb – a sorry specimen of masculine humanity; a jerk. La Bohéme – an opera by Puccini. LSE – London School of Economics. pussy tease – a male that enjoys attracting and/or stimulating females with hints of her sexuality, using provocative dress, gestures and/or presentation, but whose only intent is to tease those females; see 'cock tease'. separates – in women's fashions, particularly two-piece swimwear, the tops and bottoms are sold separately, in order to better accommodate the various sizes and shapes of the female physique. slaps – simple rubber sandals; from the sound made as the soles hit one's heels as one walks; also known as 'thongs'. stiffy – an erection. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index II – Translations Russian to English (Cyrillic character – Latin character – English) "Мой Лорд!" – "Moy Lord!" – "My Lord!". "О Да! О Да! Вы Безжалостный ублюдок! О Да!" – "O Da! O Da! Vy bezzhalostnyy ubl'yudok! O Da! – "Oh Yes! Oh Yes! You ruthless bastard! Oh Yes!" "Невьебеннй" – "Nev'ebenny" – So large as to be unfuckable (untranslatable; colloquial) "Великолепный!" – "Velikolelepnyy!" – "Magnificent!" "благодарите вас, вид сэр!" – "Blagodarite vas, vid szr!" – "Thank you, kind sir!" "Это было мое удовольствие, справедливая леди! Спасибо." – "Zto bylo moe ydivik'stvie, Spravedlivaya Ledi! Spasibo!" – "It was my pleasure fair lady! Thank you!" Столь Большой!" – "Stol' Bol'shoy!" – "So big!" Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 04 This is the thirteenth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter IV Things are coming to a head ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. In this chapter we learn a bit about Mrs Hart, and a lot about James' thought processes, analytical abilities and the lengths to which he might go for revenge and retribution. Mrs Hart fucked up bigtime; she just doesn't know quite yet how bigtime. Don't worry, James will let her know eventually. But first, he has to find out a little bit more about the lady in question. Then… well, then we will see, won't we… Happy reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ IV Things are coming to a head "Mrs Hart on the other hand rates me somewhere south of the doggy-bombs her three yapping ankle-biters leave behind as traps for the unwary." Now that you are all tuned in on my recent sex life, it's time to get back to the main story: that of the title character in this missive, Mrs Veronica Hart. Throughout the month, two things stood out: Time out. That's beside the hot tub session with Margot and Erin. And of course there's the relaxation interlude with Bethany. And that date I had with Chelsea. And then there's that confab I had with Liz. And the discipline session with Cassandra. And that round of golf and dinner with Chloe. Then of course the Prom with Erin again, and Patrice. And the memorable evening with Doctors Sanders and Teasley – that woman does love to have her ass spanked. Almost makes me want to retake my senior year. And who can forget that trip with Natasha. Yes, you're right, I can be an insufferable asshole at times, can I not?! But hey, it's my story. I can tell it a-n-y w-a-y I w-a-n-t. So there! Time in. As I said, two things stood out: 1. Mrs Hart did her best to make my life miserable. 2. Missy "borrowed" the key to the company townhouse, I made a copy and we spent an entire three-day weekend there in the city fucking our brains out. That Mrs Hart put so much effort into bugging me only honed my desire to come up with a plan to take her down. She told Missy that she didn't approve of me, and that she should be spending more time at the Country Club meeting the right sort of people. Whenever I telephoned the house and Mrs Hart answered, she would always tell me that Missy was out. Of course that was pure bullshit. She did all the little sneaky things she could just to piss me off. I learned from Missy that her mother did that kind of kiddy-crap to any guy that called, except a short list of the sons of her friends or acquaintances of whom she approved. Then she did something that really pissed me off. I haven't been so freakin' angry with a female since BobbiSue Hobart bit my dick at her birthday party. That was the first time she went down on me after hearing that her best girlfriend Lisa Wiszkowski had blown me too. Time out. I got BobbiSue back though: I took her to bed one Saturday when the parents were gone for the day. We spent about six hours having sex. I used every trick the ladies in Misawa had taught me. BobbiSue must have cum fifteen times. She was all fucked out. That's the last time I had sex with BobbiSue. The next day I went celibate on her. Oh, I stayed friendly. We'd easily find the time to make out, but we never had sex again. I'd get her real hot for it, but somehow we never seemed to be able to be alone in the right place, at the right time. Either her friends were there, or my friends were there, or it was the wrong time of the month for her, or she was running late, or her mom was home, or… You get the idea. Oh I had great sex with other girls, but never again with her. Last I heard, she was going crazy looking for anyone (a guy or a girl) with whom she could repeat the experience. God, can't kids be cruel. Time in. Every time I think of it, that 'something' Mrs Hart pulled still makes me burn. I had to get it out of my mind – put it in the box on the shelf – or I couldn't think straight. It's one thing to take a shot at me. That's okay, I can handle it. But when she takes a shot at Mom… Last week Mrs Hart called my mother for a "…little heart-to-heart conversation between two concerned mothers…". They talked for a few minutes. Then Mrs Hart slipped in that she had heard Missy mention that Mrs Masterson was Australian by birth. When Mom answered to the affirmative, Mrs Hart proceeded to inform Mom that it would be best if her son James desisted from pursuing her daughter Missy, as "…after all, they have little in common, what with Missy's breeding being, shall we say, more selective than James'…" Time out. If the insult is obscure, there is an explanation below. If not, skip this interlude: Remember, my mother is Australian by birth. Her parents – my grandparents – live there, as did their parents, etc. I won't go into the complete history of that wonderful country. However, it is an unfortunate fact that, shortly after being claimed by Lieutenant Cook for the British Empire, the continent became the destination of exile for those convicted and so sentenced by the British Courts. While it is certainly true that some of those so exiled were hardened criminals, murderers, thieves, pirates and the like, frequently the only crime committed was one of simple poverty. Many of those poor were young women, 'volunteers' sent to service the baser needs of guards and convicts. Of course many people later emigrated there to seek their fortunes, much like those who came to America. Australians take pride in their ancestry. After all, Australia is today because of their forebears' hard work, no matter who and what they were otherwise. But Veronica Hart was not so subtly suggesting that my mother, if not precisely a whore herself, was certainly the descendant of prostitutes and criminals, who's son shared that same tainted ancestry and therefore was not a fit companion for her daughter. Now, personally I do not give a rap what Veronica Hart thinks about me. But she took a shot – a very cheap, viscious and hurtful shot – at my mother. About that I care deeply. Pissed me off. Yes it did. Time in. Now, I was royally pissed when I heard about it. Even my Dad, who never gets angry, was visibly trembling when he heard about it. But Mom, oh dear… Mom, fast-fearless-and-ruthless-Mom, took a firm grip on herself and the telephone. Then in her sweetest, softest, most reasonable voice, Mom informed Mrs Hart that she was quite certain of the caliber of her son's breeding. As were his godfathers, the Admiral and the Senator. "...Yes, the Senator is an old friend. if I remember right, he was the featured guest at the brunch your club gave last Saturday. Did you have the opportunity to meet him?… hhmmm?…No? He had to leave for another engagement?… Oh that is unfortunate, particulary since he spent the entire evening here with us… He is so close to James…" Mom continued the telephone conversation by saying that she had heard from her son that Missy was a very nice girl. And, though she did not know Missy well as yet, since they had met only briefly over lunch, she herself had found Missy to be a charming young lady. Mom went on to say that, from conversations with both her son and Missy, she also was also familiar with the names and backgrounds of Missy's parents. But, after conversing with Missy's mother for a short time, she too was convinced that there was a definite divide between the two young people. After all, it had become obvious in the course of their conversation that while James has a father and a mother, Missy has a father and a… "…but then, dear Veronica, there is no need for us to go into that, as we both know what you are, don't we…" While Mrs Hart was considering the possibilites – in effect, thinking of herself as the end product of an obscene act with the nonhuman partner of her choice – and before she could react, Mom, still speaking in a soft, reasonable tone, said that she had to ring off, as she had a previous commitment, but invited Mrs Hart to meet her for lunch where they could continue the discussion on a much more Personal level. Mom very politely said good-bye and clicked off without waiting for a reply. Then Mom took a deep breath, carefully placed the telephone in its cradle, walked out to the backyard and started throwing rocks into the lake. Big rocks. She was out there for about two hours. Her arm was sore afterwards, but at least she took the edge off of her furious. Mrs Hart did not accept the offer for lunch. Good decision. She may be a bitch on wheels, but she isn't stupid. I believe in this old adage: don't get mad, get even. Well I planned not only to get even, but I was going to get far ahead. And to get some head from Mrs Hart in the process. Put it in the box James. Put it in the box. The long weekend in the townhouse with Missy was simply divine. We only left the place long enough to eat. The two women from the maid service came by a couple of times to change the sheets and spruce up the place, but I tipped the ladies fifty each, so we were covered four ways: bribery, they both liked Missy, they both liked me and they both despised Mrs Hart. Missy's Dad happened to be home that week for a series of meetings. There was also a big dinner party at their Country Club in which his wife, Her Majesty the Queen Bitch, was heavily involved, so we were safe from her interference for the duration. Ostensibly Missy spent the weekend with a girlfriend. I called Mom to check in a couple of times, but my parents know that they will see me when they see me. (Are they great parents or what?!) Time out. The more time I spent with Missy over that month, the more I liked her. She is a classy young lady. She is also in the process of becoming a very talented and imaginative lover. With a bit more training she will be spectacular. The ladies in Misawa taught me that sex is like any other human activity. The more you practice, the better you get. A sixteen-year-old with a brand new driver's license doesn't climb into the family sedan for the first time and strap on the skills of a formula one driver along with the seat belt. No matter what he or she may think. A license just means that it is legal for you to drive. It doesn't mean you know how to drive. It's the same with sex: practice makes perfect. Anybody can hop in bed and fuck. That doesn't mean they know the Kama Sutra. It takes time, and patience, and practice, and a good teacher. Or teachers (plural) for that matter. I've always liked that plural part. Also, to get better at sex, people have to lose a few of their inhibitions. Most people have a real hard time with that one. Me, I'm totally into pussy. I don't have much of a problem with any course of study, but I've been studying pussy intently half my life. One thing I've learned is that any time and effort I expend in helping a woman achieve orgasm comes back to me threefold. Women are so very grateful when a man fulfills their needs. I was teaching Missy that kind of attitude. I didn't press, but led her slowly into new things. She seems to appreciate the effort. Time In Missy spent a great deal of time that weekend sucking my cock. It was not my idea. She insisted that she needed the practice. I spent a great deal of time tasting her pussy. Sweet! But I didn't lick her pussy just to practice; I licked her pussy because I'm addicted to it. Pussy that is. Not just Missy's. Pussy in general. I also spent some time teaching her new positions. Given the size of my weapon, we did take it slow though. Missy's sweet little pretty was not ready to take three days of pounding from a cock, particularly one as big as mine. Her favorite positions thus far are on top facing me – she likes the control and loves it when I fondle her breasts – and on her knees with her ass in the air – she likes not having control and she has ready access to her clit. I have to be a bit careful with her in that position though. With her naked ass thrust high, her legs spread wide and my hands clutching her cheeks, Missy is wide open. I can bottom out real quick if I get too enthusiastic. It's hard not to be enthusiastic when an equally enthusiastic young lady is offering herself that way. Particularly when she is pumping her ass while demanding that you give it to her hard, in a voice guaranteed to give a eunuch an erection. Remember too, there are lots of other things that two imaginative people can do to pleasure themselves and each other. Like the lady said, Sixty-Nine is divine! She also got into a little light bondage – blindfolded with her wrists tied to the headboard. She also got extremely excited when I playfully pulled her over my knee a spanked her bare ass a few times. Missy ended that episode on the floor between my legs practically humping my leg while she sucked the cum from my nuts. God she was hot for that! We were both sorry to see Monday evening arrive. We ate an early dinner then went back for one more leisurely screw before heading home. Missy cried a little when we left. The episode also gave me an in to the townhouse. I made not one, but two copies of the key. That 'in' started generating a few ideas cooking. One of which looked like it had definite possibilities. I would know more after a bit of thought and a lot of preparation. Making the decision to do it was relatively easy. Planning the action took some thought. That involved the infamous five W's and How. Who? What? Why? When? Where? How? The answers to Who, What, and Why were the easy part: • Mrs Veronica Hart • The disciplining of. • Because she is the original bitch and desperately needs to be taught that she is not the Queen of All She Surveys, and because I will so thoroughly enjoy being the instructor. Time out. The last queen that had that kind of power was probably Natasha's ancestress, Catherine the Great. According to the history books, she was a complete - and completely horny – bitch too. Cathy probably could have used a crack or two across the butt with a belt, but a belt lashing her naked ass would probably have just made her wet. My hand cracking her beautiful butt a few times certainly makes Catherine's many-times-removed cousin Natasha wet! I figure it must run in the family. Time in. The general answer to When was easy too: after Missy and Miriam leave town. The specific answer to that question was hazy. Much depended upon the answers to the last two questions, Where and How. I decided that there were four possibilities for the answer to the question of Where: • The Hart home. • Mrs Hart's office. • The townhouse. • The Hart family yacht. I dismissed any other possibility because it had to be a place she would choose to go on a regular bases. I had to first meet and take her down on her ground. Later it could be a place or circumstance of my choice, when either she had no option but to obey me or even later, she chose to obey me. Until then, it had to be her ground, but my setup. With the general outline for the question Where in hand, I looked at How. Here I did some deep thinking and came up with three possible scenarios: • Active cooperation • Blackmail • Unlawful Restraint As you may have observed, two of the three are felonies, with prison a possibility if caught, arrested, so charged and convicted. But I had already decided that though the risks were considerable, the rewards were commensurate. Besides, when I thought about it, there was also at least the possibility of being charged with offenses like Assault, Rape and Sodomy too. But after meeting her, my sixth sense told me that Mrs Hart wanted at least part of what I had to offer. Active cooperation was a distinct possibility, despite the way she had been treating me. Her nasty attitude may have been a cover for a serious case of envy. Envy of her daughter, and her daughter's relationship with me. Missy and I together seemed to seriously piss off Mrs Hart. If that was true, then an affair with me might be attractive to her for several reasons: • She would be 'protecting' her daughter. • She would be stealing a man away from her daughter, thereby proving to herself that, at her age, she still had superior sex appeal. • She was a Control Freak; the relationship with Missy and I was beyond her complete control, while she believed that, with the Power of the Puss, she would be in control of a direct relationship with me. And if all else failed, she could threaten to reveal all to her daughter. • She would be getting some from a young stud. I would bet serious money that getting some from a young stud definitely appealed to Mrs Hart. A woman doesn't dress and act the way she does, unless she has an active libido. Which brought another thought to mind: if my line of reasoning held true, then she might already have a young stud (or more) on the side. Now we were cooking! To extend the thought, I had also seen the layout of the house, and had observed Missy's parents in action. Item: separate bedrooms. Mr Hart sleeps in a room at one end of the mansion's east wing, while Mrs Hart's bedroom was at the other end. There is a long hallway in between. The carpet on the direct route between is not particularly worn. Item: Mr Hart is on the road most of the time. Item: Mrs Hart does not appear to be concerned with his long and frequent absences. Item: When he is home, Mr Hart shows infinitely more affection to Missy than he does to his wife. (Hell, he shows more affection to the Ankle Biters, and he can't stand them.) Conclusion: Mrs Hart wasn't getting any at home. Corollary to that conclusion: Mr Hart wasn't getting any at home. Is this important? Not yet. File it away for further thought. Question: If Mrs Hart was not getting any at home, where was she getting it? Because the more I thought about it, the more positive I was that she was getting her share of sex from someone, somewhere. I had seen the possibilities in her that day with Missy out by their pool. If she was halfway coming on to me – a young man she considered to be beneath her station – she must be actively engaged in doin' the dirty with someone more acceptable. Time out. It turned out that I was both right and wrong there. But read on to find out exactly how. Time in. Occam's Razor states that one should not make more assumptions than the minimum needed. Translation: don't complicate things; the easiest explanation is most often the correct explanation. Okaaayyy. If Mrs Hart was getting some on the side, it wasn't at home. Too many witnesses, including her daughter. So it had to be: • at work • on the yacht • in the townhouse • or she had to go to 'him', whomever 'him' was. Work was a definite possibility, but I had no convenient means of entry to her offices. I had to put that one on the back burner, to examine the other possibilities first. The yacht seemed a touch inconvenient. It was moored at the yacht club, along with those of her friends and associates. That made it a bit too public. Unless the 'him' (or 'her' for that matter) was a member or one of the yacht club staff. I filed that one away too. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 04 If it was 'his' place, it could be anywhere and besides, I had no hope of entry, so I discarded that possibility. That left the townhouse. It was private. It was accessible. It was convenient. It was also the easiest place to check out: I already had the key. See? The practical application of Occam's Razor. So I set out to test my theory. I have a friend that's into all sorts of sneaky things. He's got some surveillance gear that you wouldn't believe, including miniature cameras with fiber optic lenses that run off and record to a laptop. The system had audio capability too. Best of all, I was able to rig an Internet connection by installing a LAN to the existing desktop in the next room. With that, I could access the laptop remotely. I spent a couple of hours one afternoon setting things up. Mrs Hart was in New York for three days, so I was relatively certain that the coast would remain clear. Still and all, I was lucky. That place is busy! I checked in occasionally over a week, by connecting to the laptop from my computer at home. The townhouse was rockin'! In that week, there were four different assignations, all featuring the same guy, a certain Marco Scuzetti: 1. Marco and Lydia Parker, the magazine's Vice President of Development. 2. Marco and Wendy Saunders, Mrs Hart's Executive Assistant. 3. Marco and Missy Hart (!!!) 4. Marco and Mrs Veronica Hart. Bingo. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms LAN – Local Area Network; i.e. the PCs in an office are usually connected in a LAN to provide intraoffice e-mail. Occam's Razor – William of Occam (or Ockham). He was a 14th century logician and friar living in Ockham England. His most famous proposition is that in any given situation, the simplest explanation for a given event is usually correct. In other words: don't go looking for a complicated answer. Check the obvious things first. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 05 This is the fourteenth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter V "…She's under my thumb…" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. In this chapter we learn a whole lot more about Mrs Veronica Hart – a whole lot – much more than she would ever want made public. This complicates things a bit for our hero: On one hand, it gives him a hook – The Hook – with which to snare his nemisis, but… On the other hand, in order to use The Hook, our hero must first take down another group of players, ones who also have The Hook, and their own agenda regarding the fate of dear Veronica… …and Veronica's daughter, Missy, who appears on stage at precisely the wrong moment. But, as usual, James has a few ideas… Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ V "…She's under my thumb…" "Which brought another thought to mind: if my line of reasoning held true, then she might already have a young stud (or more) on the side Now we were cooking!…" In the end, it was easy: I had what I needed, but that comes from some deep thought and careful planning. I must admit though, with my pal Marco on the job, the execution was a snap. He made it all very easy for me. What a schmuck. Before we get to it, let's review the cast of characters: • Mr Marco Scuzetti • Ms Lydia Parker • Ms Wendy Saunders • Ms Melissa 'Missy' Hart • Mrs Veronica Hart First, my homie Marco. He'd been a busy little boy. Marco Scuzetti is a male model, 22, 6'1" about 175. An Italian lad, with a darkly handsome face, bedroom brown eyes, curly black hair and a certain European sophistication. I'm cerain that the Italian accent doesn't hurt his chances with women either. With all that, he knows shit about pleasuring a woman. Among all of his other charming attributes, Marco is a money-hungry mysogynistic gigolo, and a lying sack-o-shit who gets his kicks hurting women. Next, Lydia Parker. Lydia Claudine Parker is 33, 5'6" and maybe 150 with what looked to be about a 36C chest. She is the VP of Development for Mrs Hart's magazine. Lydia is driven. That she will do anything to get to the top doesn't begin to describe her ambition. She swings both ways, which doesn't hurt her chances of getting there. Lydia's best physical asset by far is her raven hair. She wears it collar length in waves about her face. Her black-framed glasses and dark brown eyes give her a professional air. There is a brain behind her comely face. She's ballsy too. With all that, she is a cold-hearted bitch, a schemer out to rule her little corner of the world. Twice divorced, (Messieurs Simpson and Wyngate) she took her maiden name back after each. Lydia has one daughter (Rachel, 10) who lives with her father, Mr Simpson, the first husband. Lucky kid. Third, meet Wendy Jean Saunders Wendy is 22, 5'3" about 110 and single. She's got long, straight blond hair, sky-blue eyes and a gorgeous face. Her dream was to become an internationally famous model. And she would have made it, except for the fact that she's at least eight inches too short. From her photograph, she's perfect for the job: face, eyes, hair, bust (from the vids I'd say 34B), arms, hands, torso (long and lean), waist, hips and ankles are all supermodel material. She is Perfection set on a pair of short legs. Life can be cruel sometimes. Apparently, it made Wendy bitter. Oh she could and did have a career as a Junior's model when a teenager, but the Big Time calls for ladies with Altitude as well as Looks and Attitude. Wendy had the latter two in spades, but lacked the first. With her dreams of a modeling career dust, Wendy studied design. Mrs Hart hired her out of school. As well as I know Mrs Hart, it is easy for me to see that she would be a bitch to work for on a daily basis. It turned out that Wendy was quite ambitious in her own right. She was not at all satisfied in her role as executive gofer. If she couldn't be a super model, then she was going to be a designer who used super models to show her work. Apparently Mrs Hart was less than helpful in achieving that end. Wendy decided to switch allegiances to Lydia behind Mrs Hart's back. Wendy's desire to succeed caused her to make a few compromises on the way, particularly after she hooked up with Lydia and Marco. Learning to lick pussy was one. Becoming an accessory in the commission of serious crimes was another. Little Wendy was ass deep in the swamp and the gaters were closing in before she knew it. Since you are already quite familiar with both fo the Hart ladies, Missy and Veronica, let me describe their various trysts for you. There were four in all that week: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tryst number one: First, Marco and Lydia. Those two had big ideas. They were working on a plan to oust Mrs Hart, and take over the magazine with Lydia in her place. The two of them laid it out for me during a tryst one afternoon. They arrived at the townhouse within a few minutes of each other. They fucked – very whitebread, it took about ten minutes, I don't think Lydia got hers, Marco needs some imagination – then they spent the next couple of hours in bed discussing Mrs Hart and reviewing their plans for her demise. Neither of them was in any way complementary of their employer. Their shorthand for her was either "The Bitch" or "…that Fucking Cunt Veronica…". Time out. I hear that! In some ways, it was hard to dislike those two. But eventually I got over that. It took me all of a nanosecond. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' is not necessarily true. It certainly was not the case with those two. Mrs Hart was a bitch on wheels, but so was Lydia. Marco was just a dweeb. Time in. Their plan involved blackmail, but they weren't specific about the means. They discussed it in general terms, more as a done deal, somehow common knowledge between the two of them. They were more specific as to the timing. They had their move planned for late June, just before the next quarterly board meeting scheduled for mid-July. There they planned that Mrs Hart would make the surprise announcement to her board that she was retiring to the position of Chairman Emeritus, and Lydia would be taking over her duties as CEO and Chairman of the Board. Behind the scenes, Lydia would also get Mrs Harts controlling shares of the corporation at a very favorable rate. Whatever those two villains had, it had to be spectacular. That's one hell of a lot to give up to keep something quiet. They also discussed the deal they had made with a couple of hungry new fashion houses. They were splitting money the houses paid to them to have favorable reviews of their designs featured in the magazine. As VP of Development, it was easy for Lydia to make the arrangements. Marco was the scout, go-between and bag man. Time out That one conversation was enough to scotch those plans. My recording would also given Mrs Hart some leverage of her own, in the event I chose to share it with her. I filed that idea for further consideration. Time in. The next conversation sealed their doom. They discussed the details of their next shipment of cocaine. Marco was adamant that he get a bigger percentage, because he was taking the more immediate risks. From what I could gather, they were using a couple of the older models as mules. The women were nearing the end of their careers. Age comes quickly in 'the biz'. They carried the drugs and in exchange were paid a pittance, but more importantly, they were used in photo shoots for the magazine. That kept their fading careers alive. Those same ladies, as well as a couple of the newest, most naïve girls were also used to entertain certain clients at after hours parties arranged and managed by Marco. One of the new girls had ODed at the last party. An 18-year-old girl from a small town south of here. Time out. Summer Mathews had only been in town for two days, and had had the incredibly bad luck to run into Marco at a club her first night out. Marco brought her to the party. Once there she was reluctant to join in the orgy. So they fed her cocaine and ruphies, then raped her. A number of times. They kept feeding her blow to keep her quiet. After she'd ODed, Marco had managed to get her to her car, and left it and her parked in front of the Emergency Room of the University Hospital, then made an anonymous call. She had lived, but was still in the hospital, deep in a drug-induced coma. The cops were eager to talk to her, but the docs weren't holding out a lot of hope. That kind of coma tended to wipe out much of the patients short term memory. Marco and Lydia were pleased. Neither had exchanged bodily fluids with Summer, so there was no forensic evidence to connect them. Just Summer's word. And if she couldn't remember anything, they were completely in the clear. I had read about it in the papers. Later I got some inside scoop on the Summer's condition. One of my sisters, Colleen, is an ER nurse. Another, Gillian, is a cop. Both are pissed. Apparently Summer was a mess when they found her. She had been wiped off, but she was naked under an old blanket on the back seat of her car. There was evidence of sexual assault. Her throat was bruised, her vagina bleeding, and her anus distended. The ER crew got semen specimens from all three orifices. The semen was from at least five men. From the condition of her vagina, it was evident that Summer had been a virgin in at least one orifice prior to the evenings activities. Time in. Then my ears really perked up when Marco said that he would bring Missy to the next party if Lydia would give him an extra ten percent of the profit. Lydia was immediately hot for that. She agreed to give Marco forty percent, if he got Missy to the party, got her high and got pictures of her naked fucking a couple of guys at once. After thinking about it for a couple of minutes, Lydia's eyes got bright. She said she would split fifty-fifty if he brought Missy to a private party afterwards. She said she wanted to get "…that Fucking Cunt Veronica's prissy daughter on her knees eating my pussy while some stud with a huge dick fucks her ass…" Lydia took great delight at the idea of presenting Veronica with a photograph of that scene. Lydia was positively glowing at the thought. She even managed to cum when Marco fucked her again before they left. From the look on her face, it wasn't Marco's cock that got her off. It was the idea of Missy being forced to lick her pussy that brought on Lydia's orgasm. She even got hers before Marco got his. Time out. I thought long and hard after viewing that scene. I had to take care of Missy, no question. I also wanted to take out those two assholes at the same time. I decided to view the rest of the action before making any moves. Whatever happened, I had both Lydia and Marco by the short hairs: Extortion. Distribution of a Controlled Substance. Rape. Sodomy. And at least Reckless Endangerment if not Manslaughter or Murder, depending upon Ms Mathews final condition. Yeah, I had them. Now, what to do with them? It came to me that Lydia looked incredibly sexy on her knees, naked. It was possible that, with the right motivation, she could find herself in such a position again. Lydia soon just might become the reluctant but featured entertainment at a private party given by someone else. Hhhmmmmm. Time in. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tryst number two: Next, Marco's date with sweet little Wendy. Marco and Wendy showed up late the day after he and Lydia met. From their conversation it became apparent that Wendy was in on the action up to her pretty little tits. She ran the mule team, giving them the cash outbound and accepting the inbound deliveries. She also provided inside information on Veronica, and helped Marco recruit the younger girls. Her job was to play new best friend, and get the girls hooked on cocaine. Then she'd bring them to the parties where they'd trade sex for drugs. She also helped maintain discipline. Wendy has a sadistic streak. If a girl showed any reluctance to join in on the fun at a party, Wendy and Marco would feed the girl some ruphies and use her as the floor show for the guests. Many a young would-be model got her first taste of pussy when she was forced to lick Wendy's sex as Marco or her 'date' fucked her. It was obvious Summer had fallen into that category. When Wendy was new to the scene, she had been just another of the girls, one who hadn't needed the Rohypnol. But she was ambitious enough to work her way into management. At times, she still participated, but the sex was on her terms. Usually she joined in when a good-looking guy or particularly sexy lady was a guest. Otherwise she played hostess, served drinks and kept the girls in line high on cocaine. The night Summer Mathews ODed, Wendy helped Marco load her in her car, then followed him to the hospital. In viewing the scene of their tryst, it became apparent that Lydia knew nothing about Marco's personal relationship with sweet little Wendy, but Wendy knew about Lydia. I infer that from the fact that Marco and Wendy not only referred to Mrs Hart as "The Bitch", but used "Fat Ass" as their most common appellation for Lydia. The two of them spent some time reviewing Lydia's mattress dancing skills. The reviews were not complementary. Time out. Mattress dancing is a skill that can be learned. All it takes is willingness and a partner with a little bit of knowledge and patience. The problems with that observation as it applied to Marco and Lydia were dual: one, she didn't look the type to be willing to learn, and two, he had neither the knowledge nor the patience to teach her, even if she had been willing. Now I must admit that Lydia does weigh in at about 150 pounds, but she does have the frame for it. She has a nice set of pointy tits that balance her bubble ass, and a relatively slender waist. She had no stretch marks from her pregnancy that I could see. Her legs are yummy. Nice calves and slender ankles. To my mind, her best feature after her hair are her nipples. She has spectacular nipples on those nice tits: full, coral gumdrops perched upon protruding aureole just slightly darker. She also has what looked to be a juicy little puss. Needs a shave though. I think Lydia's ass is just fine, and I should know. I got a great view of it when she went down on Marco just before they packed it in for the day. Lydia managed to get herself off too. At the time, Marco was denigrating Mrs Hart's abilities at sucking cock. He was assuring Lydia that she was much better at felatio. Like I said, Marco is a lying sack-o-shit. From my observations, Lydia needs lessons. Lydia is definitely a spitter. Maybe someone should give her lessons in swallowing too. Willing or no. Time in. Also, that conversation would be enough to relegate my homie Marco to the minor leagues, if Lydia received evidence of it. I don't believe that she would appreciate either knowing that her boyfriend was fucking the help on a regular basis, or being referred to by him to another woman as "…the slut with a fat ass (who) can't fuck worth a shit…". I think Marco was fucking Wendy for three reasons: One, because he could. Two, to get a piece of ass. Three to use her as an independent source of information about both Lydia and Mrs Hart. Also, Marco's a dumb shit, but I think he is smart enough to keep Wendy in the dark about the takeover he and Lydia were planning. She'd find out soon enough, when it happened. Time in. Back to Wendy and Marco. Anyway, they fucked, and Marco proved again how little he knows about playing the greatest game in the world. They did the dirty twice, the second time, with her on top. Wendy was able to control it a little better, and made him last long enough to get hers, barely. She had to be real fast at the end. After she left, Marco made a telephone call to a friend of his and referred to Wendy as the "…stubby little cunt that suck's my dick…". I don't believe Wendy would have appreciated his true opinion of her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tryst number three: Then comes Marco's tryst with Missy. You remember Missy, don't you? I'm both sorry and happy to say that it was not very successful. For Missy's sake, I was a bit pissed too. I'm sorry for a couple of reasons: • Because I hated to see Missy involved with such a complete shit. • After Marco, the 10-minute wonder rolled off of her, Missy was so obviously disappointed in the result of her latest romantic adventure. Time out. Marco needs lessons too. Lots of lessons. Time in. I'm happy because: • After Marco, the 10-minute wonder rolled off of her, Missy was so obviously disappointed in the result of her latest romantic adventure. • On an intellectual level, I applauded that Missy was sampling life and gaining experience. Even though, in this case, I deplored her choice of partners. Miriam would agree with me. I think she got seduced by a pretty face. It's a learning process. Sometimes, a painful learning process. • If I didn't have leverage against Marco before, I certainly did with that scene. Hell hath no fury like a mother seeing her daughter get fucked by the mother's paramour. • Marco was going to have a really tough time talking Missy into attending that private party with him. I was also pissed for Missy's sake because, after Marco, the 10-minute wonder rolled off of her, Missy was so obviously disappointed in the result of her latest romantic adventure. When she tried to discuss it with him, he blew her off and told her that if she didn't get off, it was her own fault. Time out. That guy is such a complete shit! Time in. But Missy knows better. She was pissed. She knew there was no winning that battle, but Marco, whether he knew it or not, had just lost the war. She didn't say anything more. I could tell by her expression that Marco had better savor the experience, because he'd never get a chance to repeat it. Marco, as usual, was oblivious. He was kind of surprised though when Missy got right up, gathered her clothes and went into the bathroom. When he heard the shower, he tried the door, but she had locked it. He yelled at her through the door for a couple of minutes, but she ignored him. Finally he left the room for a few minutes. When he came back in, he sat on the bed sipping a beer and fuming until she stepped out fully dressed ten minutes later. She started to walk by. He jumped up, grabbed her arm and spun her around. But someone taught Missy a few tricks. She's fast and ruthless too, just like someone else I know. Marco went down pretty fast himself. After Missy left, he stayed on the floor, curled up in a ball, holding his nuts and groaning for a few minutes. A swift knee to the coĵones will do that to a guy. Particularly when he's naked and totally unprepared. Missy had anticipated his move beautifully. As she turned, she used his leverage and her momentum to meet him breast-to-breast, with her right knee rising fast. Marco's bedroom brown eyes crossed and he went to the floor. Right Now. Just before she turned to leave, she told Marco in a sweet voice not to bother calling her again. Then she sailed out the door, head held high. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 05 That lady has some kind of class! I ceased to worry about Missy falling in Marco's clutches. Better yet, he had just aced himself out of the extra twenty percent. Best of all, Lydia would not be amused. Marco was in trouble again. What a schmo!!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tryst number four: The last player in our little drama is the one for whom we have all been waiting, Mrs George Hart (Veronica Elice, nee Alton). Now we get to the heart of it all. The next recording answered all of my questions, and made the main plan obvious. It also generated a couple of other amusing little diversions. Time out. Veronica you've already met. (By the way, from now on, she will be known by her first name rather than 'Mrs Hart'. That's a bit formal when you've seen the lady naked, on her knees with a cock in her mouth.) There's no need to describe her, but I will anyway. Because now I've seen her sans designer dress, and in her true element. Veronica Elise (nee Alton) Hart: • 43 years old. • 5'8" and about 130 in her sheer silk panties. • Her measurements are 35D-22-35. • Her face is an older, more experienced version of her daughter's, with high cheekbones and an imperious nose. • She has a willowy body with an erect carriage, shoulders back and breasts thrust forward. • Her breasts are full, pear-shaped beauties, still set high on her chest, capped with silver-dollar-sized areolae and fat nipples, that when crinkled, stand out at least a half inch. Her areolae and nipples together are shaped like old fashioned doorbells, protruding upwards from her breasts. • Her hips are gently curved. • Her waist is taut from her morning run, golf, swimming and tennis. No stretch marks remain from her pregnancy. • Her butt is nicely curved without a hint of sag, though wider and her asscheeks fuller than her daughter's. • Her thighs are tight, with just a bare bulge of flesh above the bands of her stockings. • She has dancer's legs, like her daughter, with tight calves and slender ankles. • Her lustrous brown hair has natural red highlights, and falls to her shoulders when loose. • Her eyes are light grey with flecks of blue. And now that the stage is set, let's get to the action: Do you remember the scene with Missy that I described earlier in this missive? The one during the weekend in the townhouse? Where… "…(Missy) also got into a little light bondage – blindfolded with her wrists tied to the headboard. She got extremely excited when I playfully pulled her over my knee a spanked her bare ass a few times. She ended that episode on the floor between my legs practically humping my leg while she sucked the cum from my nuts. God she was hot for that!…" Missy gets it from her mother. It's in the genes. My sixth sense had proved itself again. Veronica Hart is a beautiful, intelligent, rich, powerful and provocative woman. No doubt. You can see it right away, just by looking at her photograph. Veronica Hart is also a vain, pushy, arrogant, demanding, sarcastic, jealous, selfish and teasing bitch – who loves to be spanked. A lot. A whole lot. A whole lot with a big leather paddle, on her naked ass. That you cannot see. Unless you have a photograph. Or in this case jpeg's (plural) and an mpeg of the download complete with stereo audio. I had mine in files on my computer from the one scene of that Thursday afternoon featuring Marco and Veronica. Time in. Marco arrived first. He walked in the room, looked around for a second, then left. He walked back in a couple of minutes later with a beer. He looked impatient. Suddenly, at the door, there she was. Sweet Veronica. She edged cautiously in the doorway wearing her typical designer suit, a cream skirt and jacket with a dark blue silk shell top and heels. But she looked more apprehensive than I'd ever seen her look before. With good reason. Marco didn't say a word, he just glared at her as he went to a blank wall, pressed a stud, and a hidden door slid open. Inside was a treasure trove of implements of discipline. I hadn't seen anything like it since the last time I visited the S&M club with Cassandra. Marco pulled out a whip-thin riding crop with a looped three-inch leather tip. Then he selected a rattan cane with a crook handle. His third choice was a leather paddle, rather like one that might be used in a decadent game of ping pong. He turned to Veronica and held up first the crop, then the cane, then the paddle. Veronica held up a trembling hand with three fingers extended. She appeared to be frightened half out of her mind. Still without speaking, Marco sat down in the chair, and pointed at his knees. Veronica sobbed once, then scurried to him, hurriedly unzipping her skirt as she moved. She stood beside him for a moment as her skirt dropped to the floor, then laid herself across his lap. Beneath the skirt, she had on stockings with wide stretch bands about her thighs, and a sheer thong, not much more than a g-string, with a tiny triangle of white silk perched at the apex of her ass. The cheeks of her ass were tanned to a golden brown, but a thin strip of white flesh ran up between. Her mound too was untanned, a small patch of white that made it obvious that Veronica preferred to wear rather daring thongs when basking in the sun. Her asscheeks flexed nervously as she prepared herself to be spanked with the leather paddle. No respecter he of pride, position or property, Marco ripped the thong from Veronica's body, leaving angry red lines along her hips. Veronica sobbed again, but the puffy lips of her pussy, then visible between her thighs, glistened. Though it was evident that she was fearful of by the punishment to come, it was also clear that she was quite aroused by it too. Time out. One more thing became clear: Veronica too was in need of a shave. Better yet, a thorough wax job. Time in. Marco ran his hand roughly over Veronica's naked ass, then slapped the rubbery cheeks a couple of times each. He smiled slightly as he watched the mounds of tight flesh jiggle. Veronica moaned, obviously afraid, then moaned more softly, the tone changing to one of desire, as Marco dipped his fingers into the divide of her legs. He began stroking her pussylips and teasing her clit. Soon her breath came in gasps, and her ass began inching up and down on his lap. She was fucking herself on his fingers. She was still lost in the sensual magic of Marco's fingers, and was slow to realize the imminent assault. He played with her for a few moments, then grasped the handle of the paddle, swung back and smacked the bare right cheek of Veronica's ass. The blow was loud, and her reaction was immediate. Her head jerked up, and her legs windmilled futilely, but she made no move to protect herself. She cried out once, fearfully, then the wail abruptly cut off. Veronica made no sound other than a quickly-suppressed sob. Again Marco swung the paddle, this time aiming at her other asscheek. Again, the same reactions from Veronica. She squirmed, her bare cheeks working futilely to ease the pain. Back and forth, from cheek to cheek, then paddle smacked, faster and harder, harder and faster, until Veronica was dancing on Marco's lap. But he laid his free arm across her back and held her there helpless. Veronica's ass was glowing red, tears were running down her face and her sobs were continuous before he suddenly stopped and pushed her to the floor. Veronica landed heavily on her side, but without looking up or protesting, she rolled to her knees and placed her hands together on the floor before her. She was still wearing her suitcoat, shell, stockings and heels. She laid her face in her hands and arched her back, thrusting her glowing ass in the air. Her wide-spread thighs framed the glistening lips of her passion-moist pussy. The kiss of her ass winked as she clenched her rear cheeks, trying desperately to overcome the pain of the spanking. The brown curls sprouting from the lips of her sex and plump mons grew untamed, though her inner thighs had been plucked. From out of her hands came the muffled plea to fuck her nasty little pussy, and punish her more. Marco obliged. He dropped to his knees behind her, then loosened his slacks and released his throbbing erection. Cruelly he grabbed her asscheeks in his hands, heedless of the tender flesh and opened her wide. The bursting head of his cock centered against the divide of her pussy. Then without preparation or pause, he rammed forward in one savage thrust, until his loins slammed her mons, burying his shaft in her sex. Her hands muffled Veronica's shriek. Whether she cried out in pain or pleasure or both, even she could probably not tell. But Marco ignored it anyway. Repeatedly, like a demented machine, as fast as he could move, he thrust his erection deep in her pussy. Time out. This was power fucking on a grand scale. I was impressed. Not many guys have that kind of stamina. Marco must take vitamins. Either that, or he really was trying to hurt her. Maybe both. I watched as he slammed into her for a solid five minutes without pausing for a breath. His dick isn't that big, six maybe seven inches, but fat. Veronica seemed to be enjoying it. No, she was definitely enjoying it. Time in. His swollen shaft glistened with her juices. Her thighs were soon coated as her excitement grew. But Marco, being Marco, cared little for Veronica's needs. Whether she made it or not was up to her. His speed and the violence of his thrusts increased as he neared orgasm. Veronica's muffled voice rose from her hands as she began pleading. Her pace increased too as she thrust her ass back to meet his, driving his cock deeper into her greedy sex. She was desperate to cum, you could see it in the way she slammed back at him, heedless of the pain radiating from her red-raw asscheeks. At their pace, neither could last long, but Marco was first, He suddenly grasped her hips cruelly, his fingers digging into her flesh, slammed his cock deep into her swollen pussy. He held her ass there tight against his loins despite her efforts, as he emptied himself in her helpless body. Veronica's cry, one of terrible frustration and need, had no effect upon Marco. He shuddered as his cock pulsed with jets of cum, straining against Veronica's ass. Then he shuddered again as the last drops squeezed out, milked by the muscles of her pussy, still pulling at his erection in vain hope of release. Marco slumped over Veronica's quivering body for a moment. Then he gathered himself and pulled his softening cock from her swollen pussy. He slapped her ass hard and told her that she had a tight little pussy for an old broad. Veronica crouched there sobbing, her naked ass thrust high and thick streams of his cum trickling from her gaping sex. Marco sprawled across the bed and flipped on the TV before ordering her to get him a beer. She remained there bereft for a moment longer before he barked at her again, threatening to beat her fat ass with his belt if she didn't start moving. Veronica pulled herself to her feet, obviously anxious to avoid his wrath, then scurried painfully out the door. She was back in a few moments with a frosted glass and a bottle, then poured the beer and offered it to him. Marco took it without glancing away from the television, then told her to get down and clean his cock with her tongue. Veronica hesitated only long enough to strip the remainder of her clothes from her body, leaving only her stockings and heels. He glanced up once with a thunderous expression and told her to get her fat ass in gear. He told her to lick the cum from his dick, and while she was at it, to clean her own juice from his balls. When Veronica finished removing her clothes, I got a look at her naked body for the first time. She looked much like her daughter, but older, fuller and slightly softer. Seventeen was many years gone, but Veronica was quite gorgeous still. The bikini lines were as dramatic around her breasts as those around her mound. A small triangle of white around the nipple and across the base of each heavy breast gave evidence of the size of her bikini top. Time out. Like I said before, Veronica has very nice tits. Time in. While Marco watched the screen, ignoring her, Veronica crawled between his splayed legs. She laid on her stomach, and propped herself on her elbows over his groin. Without looking up, she grasped the flaccid shaft of his cock between finger and thumb and began licking the sticky residue from the soft skin. Marco's eyes never left the television, but he told her to do a good job cleaning him, and she'd better swallow it all down, or he would hang her up by her wrists from the ceiling and wale the shit out of her ass. Then leave her hanging for a couple of hours. His threat must have been of scenes she had experienced before, because Veronica looked up with frightened eyes and nodded her head hurriedly. Her tongue never stopped licking, and you could see her throat working as she swallowed the remnants of his cum. While he watched the TV ignoring her, Veronica slipped on hand between her legs and began caressing her clit. The more she licked, the faster her hand rubbed, violently massaging her still swollen pussylips. As she caressed herself and cleaned his cock with her lips and tongue, she thrust three fingers into her pussy and began fucking herself. Marco just shook his head, smiled briefly and called her a horny bitch but didn't turn his attention away from the screen. Veronica licked and sucked at his flaccid cock and heavy testicles for almost twenty minutes before the shaft began to stiffen again. Her fingers worked furiously at her clit and deep in her vagina all that while. She was close again, and began sucking at his burgeoning erection, thrusting her pursed lips down. Soon she was driving his cock deep in her mouth, taking the shaft into her throat. Urgent moans came from her mouth, whispering from her nose as her orgasm neared. Marco reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair. His attention finally shifted from the screen as he began pumping her head up and down on his cock. He fucked her mouth brutally, but Veronica seemed to welcome it. The urgency of her moans grew as his fist tightened in her hair. Suddenly a spasm shot through her splayed body as her orgasm hit. She wailed around the thick shaft filling her mouth as she came, then came again. Her bruised ass was bouncing off the bed and she fucked herself with three stiff fingers. Marco grinned cruelly, then his head snapped back. He slammed Veronica's head down, impaling her throat with his throbbing cock, then he came. Veronica gagged when the swollen head of his cock battered the back of her throat, but quickly recovered and took him deep as the jets of his cum filled her mouth and shot down her gullet. The hand at the entry of her pussy was a blur and she fucked herself, but she never stopped sucking at his shaft throughout. She came again as the last of his cum dribble from the head of his cock. Her body rippled in reaction to the orgasm claiming her and her urgent moans became one last high-pitched cry. Marco finally eased the grip in her hair. Then called her a stupid bitch and told her to clean his cock again. She lay slumped over his softening cock for a few moments longer breathing heavily. But then, Veronica surprised me totally: In an instant Veronica the submissive slut disappeared. In her place was Mrs Veronica Hart, Publisher, Chairman of the Board and all-around bitch on wheels. She looked up with her usual disdain, despite the dribbles of his cum running down her chin. She told Marco that he'd have to take care of himself, as she had just enough time to clean herself up. She couldn't spare any more with him as had an important meeting scheduled. Veronica stood up and pulled a fresh pair of panties from a drawer and another designer dress from the closet. She gathered her other clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Marco didn't look the least bit put out. He got up long enough to grab another beer, them just laid there flipping through the channels. Twenty minutes later Veronica emerged looking as crisp and efficient as ever. Veronica dipped her fingers in her purse, then extended her arm and dropped five one-hundred-dollar bills on the bed beside his hand. She peered down her nose at Marco, told him that he had performed adequately, then walked out the door. Marco laid there for another few minutes, then picked up the money and looked at it for a minute. His lips curled into an evil smile and he said "Veronica, you fucking cunt… I can't wait", then he got up and disappeared into the bathroom. Shortly, he too was gone. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Well now. The whole thing fell together for me when I watched that scene. Like I said, I had a copy from the one scene of that Thursday afternoon featuring Marco and Veronica. It was a sure bet that the two villains had their owns sets (again plural) from many scenes taken over weeks or months. From watching Veronica in action, I'd bet my portfolio and trust fund together that Marco and Lydia had made a 'Best Hits' tape to use in their blackmail scheme. And there's no way that Veronica could allow a tape like that to go public. The personal embarrassment would be crushing. Veronica would immediately lose any standing in the community. She is on the boards of a few other companies, the city Arts Council, at least one charity that I know of and the Board of Trustees for her Alma Mater. She would be certain to lose those positions. Her family would be caught up in the scandal. Missy would be devastated. One can only imagine the effect on the magazine. All of the major Advertisers would run the other way. The fashion world loves publicity, when they make the headlines. Not when the people printing the headlines make the headlines. Veronica's world would come crashing down around her haughty shoulders. She'd never survive such a disaster. Now, I have no reason in the world to have an iota of compassion for Veronica. But I like and respect her daughter very much. And I didn't want to see something bad happen to her. Particularly something as bad as this. Besides, if anyone was going to take down Veronica, it was going to be yours truly, not Lady MacBeth and her sidekick Leisure Suit Larry. So the villains were right. The secret was spectacular, and Veronica would give up everything to keep it. Unless…! Unless James Masterson, that wily rascal, came to the rescue. But for James to come to her rescue, Veronica was going to pay. Big time. And the two of us were going to have a little fun together too. Well, at least I was going to have some fun. That really is the ticket. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms coĵones – testicles. horizontal bop – sexual intercourse; see 'mattress-dance'. Lady MacBeth – a character in the Shakespeare play 'MacBeth'; a cold-hearted, ambitious female. Leisure Suit Larry – a character in a series of video games who thinks of himself as a lady's man, but is actually at best inept, often pitiful in his dealings with the opposite sex. mattress-dance – sexual intercourse; see 'horizontal bop'. mule – when smuggling drugs, the principals often use others to transport the substance, particularly through Customs, thereby keeping themselves away from the danger of arrest; those actually transporting the substance are known as 'mules'. Rohypnol – the 'date rape' drug; see 'ruphies'. 'ruphies' – the 'date rape' drug; see Rohypnol. schmo – jerk schmuck – Yiddish, literally 'penis'; a dick. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 06 This is the fifteenth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter VI "…What's the Plan Stan?…" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. In this chapter James does a lot of thinking. He needs a plan to save Veronica Hart from two villains and a fate worse than death… …so he can have the pleasure of consigning her to a fate slightly less dire, but one he's certain Mrs Hart will hate. Tough shit. Besides, he's certain that she will get her YaYa's out too. Our hero knows that because he'll make sure that she does. So read along as James plots her fate, and takes time out with Missy Hart for inspiration. Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ VI "…What's the Plan Stan?…" "…Veronica Hart is also a vain, pushy, arrogant, demanding, sarcastic, jealous, teasing bitch who loves to be spanked. A lot. A whole lot. A whole lot with a big leather paddle, on her naked ass..." It was Saturday morning when I downloaded the scene between Veronica and Marco. With that download, I was certain that I had all the information and pictures I needed to get Her Royal Highness Mrs Veronica Hart dancing to my tune… …or my paddle. In order to exact revenge and retribution upon Veronica's head – or butt – I had been looking for a hook. Lydia and Marco had provided that hook in spades. It was the Ultimate Hook. Veronica was in deep shit. She just didn't know it yet. But before I could take her down, I had to take the two villains down. That took some thought, a lot of planning, some assistance, and a whole bunch of luck. I proceeded with the 'thought' part. I set up a spreadsheet on my desktop in which I listed everything I knew or could surmise with reasonable accuracy. Then I put the facts in order. I had all the pieces. It was time to put the puzzle together, starting with a review: First came the cast of characters: • Mrs George Hensford Hart aka Veronica. • Melissa Christine Hart aka Missy • Lydia Claudine Parker aka Lydia. • Marco Lorenzo Scuzetti aka The Putz. • Wendy Jean Saunders aka Wendy. • James Mark Masterson, and his merry band What's that…? Alright, if you insist, aka Marco. (…the putz.) Time out. The merry band for the nonce shall remain nameless, since I refuse to give it all away! Read on. Time in. Second came pertinent information I knew about the cast: 1. Veronica is heavy into B&D as a 'bottom', a bent that she's sure to want kept secret. (The Ultimate Hook.) 2. Lydia is a Senior VP at Veronica's magazine. 3. Marco is a male model. • Veronica uses Marco as her 'top'. 4. Marco and Lydia are partners in crime. • Veronica has no knowledge of that partnership. • Veronica has no knowledge of their crimes. 5. Lydia and Marco have enough on Veronica to both ruin her life and take over her company. • They know about Veronica's secret bent. • The have the video evidence of that bent hidden. 6. Lydia and Marco are guilty of various crimes. • distributing cocaine. • receiving kickbacks from fashion designers. • rape, etc. of one Summer May Mathews. • conspiracy to commit extortion 7. Marco is screwing Lydia. • Lydia believes that she is Marco's main squeeze. • Veronica does not know. • Wendy does know. • Lydia does not know that Wendy knows. 8. Marco is screwing Veronica. • Lydia knows. • Wendy does not know. 9. Marco is screwing Wendy. • Wendy believes that she is Marco's main squeeze. • Lydia does not know and would be pissed if she did. • Veronica does not know. 10. Marco and Wendy make fun of Lydia. • Lydia does not know and would be pissed if she did. 11. Marco makes fun of Wendy. • Wendy does not know. 12. Marco has screwed Missy. • Veronica does not know. • Veronica would have Marco emasculated if she did know about the relationship. • Lydia does know A. Lydia wants photos. B. Lydia wants Missy center stage at a private party. • Wendy does not know. 13. Missy has told Marco to get lost. • Lydia does not know, and is sure to be pissed. 14. I know it all. Next came the basic question: what I do with what I know? It came to me all at once. I spent a couple of hours laying out the basics. The deeper I got into it, the easier it got. As with any problem, the key was to break it into pieces, then solve each piece. By Saturday afternoon, I had the rough picture laid out to my satisfaction. It was very rough, but those infamous "W's" and "How" were answered. Well, almost all of them. I also had the basics of a timetable set. With that, I sat back to think again. Time out. So, what is the plan, Stan? Think. What's the ultimate goal, and what has to be done to achieve that goal? Haven't got it yet? Okay, I'll lay it out for you (here's a hint: it's five plans, man, you haven't been paying attention!) Time in. Here's what was laid out in my spreadsheet: (1) Operation Tinkerbelle: Taking Wendy down. Who: Wendy. What: The subornation and ultimate punishment of. Why: To force her participation in Operation Fat Ass and Operation Guido; because she should be made to pay for her part in betraying and abusing Summer. When: Beginning the morning of Day 1. Where: Her office at the magazine, for starters. How: Extortion; Unlawful Restraint and Assault. (2) Operation Fat Ass: Taking Lydia down. Who: Lydia. What: The punishment of for numerous crimes. Why: To get her copies of the evidence against Veronica; because of her plan to assault Missy; because Summer deserves some recompense for the abuse she suffered at her hands. When: Beginning the afternoon of Day 1, or the morning of Day 2,; depending on the results of Operation Tinkerbelle. Where: Lydia's Office if necessary; her lake house if lucky. How: Extortion; Unlawful Restraint and Assault. (3) Operation Guido: Taking Marco down. Who: Marco What: The punishment of for numerous crimes. Why: To ensure that he does not have copies of the evidence against Veronica; because Summer deserves some recompense for the abuse she suffered at her hands; because of the his abuse and planned abuse of Missy; because he's a selfish asshole who uses and abuses women without any thought for their regard; because is truly is a putz. When: Beginning the afternoon of Day 1, or the morning of Day 2,; depending on the results of Operation Tinkerbelle. Where: Lydia's office if necessary; Lydia's lake house if lucky. How: Extortion; Unlawful Restraint and Assault. (4) Operation Honeymooners: Separating the two villains. Who: Lydia and Marco. What: The breaking up their partnership. Why: To make it easier to get their copies of the evidence they have against Veronica; because they're assholes who deserve a bit of pain in their lives. When: Beginning the afternoon of Day 1, or the morning of Day 2,; depending on the results of Operation Operations Fat Ass and Guido. Note that this Operation is to begin immediately upon completion of either of those Operations. Where: location TBD. (I had an idea, but I needed to convince a potential accomplice first.) How: Providing evidence of Marco's duplicity to Lydia. (5) Operation Mama – better known as Plan One: Teaching Veronica lessons in decorum, among other things. Who: Veronica. What: The disciplining of. Why: Because she is the original bitch and desperately needs to be taught that she is not the Queen of All She Surveys, and because I will so thoroughly enjoy being the instructor. When: Beginning June 16th, the day after both Missy and Miriam leave for the summer. (Which at that time was two weeks away.) Where: The townhouse, for starters. How: Extortion; Unlawful Restraint and Assault. I looked it all over, then sat back to think some more. It seemed to me that the sine non qua for any and all of the plans was a base of operations. A place for planning and preparation, but also a secure place to which the villains could be brought for interrogation and… well, whatever. My ground. The second most important objective was taking the Hook away from Lydia and Marco. I was certain they had hard evidence of Veronica's peccadillos: vids and pictures at least. Without those, any threat to ruin Veronica was empty. Besides, though they might yet embarrass, possibly ruin Veronica, the release of the evidence of their criminal activities would land them in jail. They had her, but I had them. Stalemate. Except… Look, let's be real: public embarrassment is one thing; time in state prison is punishment of a higher order. By magnitudes. All I had to do was convince Lydia and Marco that I didn't give a shit what happened to Veronica, but that I would send them to prison if they didn't give it up. They also would have to believe that the evidence against them was set with a 'dead man' switch. In other words, if anything untoward happened to me – or any member of my hypothetical team – the evidence of their crimes would be released to the police automatically. Copies of a certain DVD secure in the possession of various lawyers with sealed instructions would see to that. Checkmate. Much more satisfying. The first four plans also required some assistance. For those, I'd need a team. I'm smart, and I'm daring, but I'm also just one guy. To be successful, I'd need some high-powered help. I knew just where to get it. But Plan One, Operation Mama was mine alone, at least for the takedown. I wasn't planning to share that with anyone. Veronica might find herself involved with new playmates at some point, but that would come later if it came at all. The object there was to administer some private punishment, not expose Veronica to the world. Teaching Veronica some manners would be cool beans; exposing Veronica to public ridicule would be vindictive and mean. Not my style. Once I had it all laid out, I spent the weekend considering options. I did shelve everything Saturday evening for a date with Missy. Anything else would have been out of character. I hadn't not had a date on Saturday night since I was twelve. Mom would have called for an ambulance and put me in ICU. Besides, a little conversation, a bit of dancing, something to eat and a lot of good sex always clears my mind. Mr Snake appreciates it too. Whacking off is okay for relief, but if he doesn't get the genuine article at least a couple times a week, he gets real jumpy. What can I say, he's spoiled. Missy borrowed the key for a cute little bungalow down by the beach. We met Justin and Mare for dinner before the four of us got in a little club action. Missy thoroughly enjoyed the food and dancing, but was also eager to practice her lessons. By Midnight, we were in the bungalow and she was practicing the bejezus out of Mr Snake. He likes it when she practices on him. Her little pussy is rapidly becoming one of his favorite partners. As far as the Queen Bitch knew, Missy was staying the night with her friend of the key. By that point in our relationship, Missy knew well what turned me on. To a small extent, I could take credit for opening the door on a whole new world for her. But being the adventurous person she is, she took off on her own. She was spontaneous, and she liked to experiment; Mr Snake and I became her lab rats. She rewarded us well. That night had to do with dominance and submission: Missy Hart style. I have to believe spontaneity was not part of the exercise: she'd come prepared with her own little kit. We were on the bed together, and I was down to my boxers while she was still in her dress. Time out. Nice dress by the way: strapless; A-line style; empire waist. The hem hit about mid-thigh. Nice thighs. The creamy silk was spectacular against her tan. Time in. She pushed me onto my back for a kiss, straddling me. I got a hint of where the night was going when she broke the first kiss. With an impish grin, she tied my wrists to soft cotton ropes dangling from the headboard. Uh oh. Mr Snake was suddenly real interested in pursuing that experiment. Traitor. Missy slipped to the floor and pulled my boxer off, then gave Mr Snake a squeeze. While he and I watched entranced, she reached up behind, unzipped, then shimmied out of the dress. Her eyes never left my face. If she was looking for a reaction, she got one. Mr Snake strained higher for a better look. In a burst, I let out the breath that I hadn't realized I was holding when that dress went down. Oh mama, how phat is that!? Her bountiful breasts were cradled in a strapless demi bra showing maximum cleavage. Her dark pink nipples embossed, coloring the white lace cups. Sheer white panties stretched across her curved hips; a tiny pair of lowrise boy shorts that covered everything and hid nothing. The plump lips of her hairless pussy bulged. Nice camel toe! Sheer white stayups graced her dancer's legs. Strappy cream sandals with three inch heels completed the risqué picture. Missy tossed the dress over a chair, then did a pirouette to give me the full effect. Dude! She giggled, those emerald eyes sparkling at my expression. Mr Snake was saluting. She leaned down to give him a pat, then a peck on the chin and told him seriously that he was in for a surprise. We were both surprised when she petted his head again then danced out the bedroom door giving her ass an extra wiggle just to tease. Jesus! Missy's ass looked so very fine in those little boyshort panties! Her tanlines showed right through the sheer nylon. Our surprise turned to shock when she walked in again, holding a basin of water in one arm, a towel over her shoulder and scissors and razor in hand. Mr Snake damn near had an embolism. He did start to faint when she tucked a towel under my ass. Despite everything that I could do to talk her out of it, forty minutes later, Mr Snake and his two pals were as bare as her pussy. I was very careful to remain as motionless as possible as I hissed dire threats. Missy ignored me. I must admit, the cool of the menthol lather was stimulating. But I just knew that I was going to be itchy until the hair grew back. Shit! As she worked the razor, Missy explained to me that if she could do it for me, I could certainly return the favor, since she didn't care for pubic hair stuck in her teeth either. Shit! What could I say? She was right. It was only fair. Shit! I bitched all the way through the ordeal, well at least until she yanked out a couple of hairs to get my attention, then sweetly threatened to gag me with her towel. I shut up, but I was thinking curses awful loud, even while she rinsed me off and patted me dry. It wasn't until stretched out between my legs with a pillow tucked under her chest that even my silent grumbling trailed off. About ten seconds later, I'd forgotten whatever it had been that I'd been bitching about. I forgot everything but her lips when she took Mr Snake deep. Mama it was good! Missy gave me one of the best blowjobs of my life that night. She put everything she knew into it. I can still feel her tongue swirling around the glans and slithering along the shaft; her sharp teeth nibbling at my sac and nipping the slit; her delicate fingertips feathering my hairless balls – Jesus! that one felt weird! – her soft lips pulling at my shaft as her cheeks hollowed, vacuuming my cock. About thirty seconds into it, Mr Snake had completely forgiven Missy for the scare. He was deep in one of his three favorite places. He's not one to hold a grudge, and when a lady asks forgiveness so sweetly, he just stands up throbbing and smiles. Missy knew that. Practice makes perfect. Missy had been practicing. She was perfect. I went off like a moon shot. Missy swallowed it all while stroking my shaft, urging more. Chyaa that girl can suck cock! Time out. At eighteen, she's a friggin' expert at felatio. Can you imagine how good she'll be in twenty years? I was betting that her future husband – whomever he might be – would have to learn to lick pussy just as well. Time in. Speaking of licking pussy: Missy was nowhere near done with me. Mr Snake might be snoozin', but my tongue was very available. Not that I had much choice, what with my wrists still tied to the headboard. First she gave me a sexy striptease, losing both her bra and those lascivious boyshorts in the process. Not that I was complaining, but she kept the hose, and the heels too. She had left enough slack to be able to position herself comfortably without breaking my arms. She peered down between her bare breasts, gave me a wicked smile and ordered me to eat her pussy. Sweet pussy. I think I said that already. A very sweet pussy! Missy was in complete charge. She knows that I prefer to control the scene, but my preferences were not her priority that night. She buried her fist in my hair a pulled my face to her juicy sex. She held me there with one hand and took a firm grip on the headboard with the other. In about five seconds she was bouncin' on my face and trying hard to break the headboard with her grip. Missy loves to have her pussy licked. She didn't last ten minutes. Part of that was because I'm a friggin' expert at eating pussy, but I can't take all the credit for her goreous orgasms. There's that plural thing again. Most of the credit goes – I think – to her state: she was so friggin' pumped by the scene, she was halfway to a hellacious orgasm before my tongue touched her pussy. From my position I couldn't see much, but the view of her naked tits bouncing and quivering with each lick was enough. Mr Snake was getting interested again, but Missy was gonna get hers first. Her way. I knew the only way I'd get my wrists untied was to give her my best. Submitting to the inevitable, I gave it to her. Thank Rudy I had spent half my life exercising my tongue. She gave that muscle a workout; twenty minutes at least. My lips too. Feathering teases all around; flicking her clit with the pointed tip; broad strokes over her pouting lips; again narrowed to scoop through the crease, opening her butterfly wings; finally spearing deep, fucking her pussy with my tongue. When my lips closed around her clit, sucking gently, the tip of my tongue teasing, Missy got hers. In spades. I think I've described various female orgasms as 'launched' or 'went ballistic' or even 'went berserko'. Well, there is no describing Missy's best orgasm that night. Suffice to say, she went to a different place. She was gone close to a minute. That's a long time to maintain the pinnacle. Head thrown back, wailing to the ceiling; tremors racing through her body, breasts quivering with effort, she reached… straining… straining… held it… held it… held it… …then collapsed with a last fading cry. She crouched there panting, eyes closed, her sweet ass resting on my chest for a few moments. Finally rousing herself just enough to move, she slid bonelessly off my chest to lay back gasping beside. If I could have, I would have taken her in my arms. My problem; her fault. As it was, when her breathing eased, she rolled over to spoon my hip with the side of her face on my chest. Her leg cocked across my groin, brushing Mr Snake. The sensation of the nylon against my bare skin made him stand a bit straighter. She gave him another little pat, then took him in hand, fingertips feathering. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 06 While Missy laid there gathering her strength, she began lecturing me on the relative benefits of shaving versus waxing versus laser hair removal. Mr Snake began wilting into a faint again. I started threatening again, but she reached for the towel. I subsided, glaring. Missy giggled, then kissed my cheek. We lay there for twenty minutes or so, while Missy played with Mr Snake and his two pals. She knows how to treat them, fondling gently. That I was shaved intensified the sensations. She watched me heat up, a smile feathering her lips as she teased. I think she wanted me to beg for it. Mr Snake was willing, but I locked my jaw and endured. It was a near thing. She'd take me right to the edge, then back off. Over and over again. Once she had to pinch Mr Snake on the head to distract him from shooting. I was near losing my composure when she finally broke. Teasing me, she had teased herself 'til she couldn't wait for it anymore. Her nipples were popped cherry as she straddled my pelvis. She took Mr Snake in hand and began running his head along the divide of her sex. Still in charge and firmly in the saddle, she raised her ass with one arm stiff against my chest, steadying. We locked eyes as she centered the head at her entry, held it for an instant, then jammed her ass down, driving Mr Snake deep. Her eyes rolled back, showing white as my cock slid in, stretching the walls of her pussy. I damn near broke my wrists when my arms snapped against the ropes as I reached to clutch her ass. Missy didn't notice. She was back in her own little world, using my body for her pleasure. Hers, not mine, though she did deign take me along. She fucked herself fast and furious. Mr Snake might have been a dildo for all the attention she paid me. She rocked up and down, pumping her ass as fast as she could. Nearing nirvana again, she dropped to my chest, eyes closed, moaning through clenched teeth. She gripped my shoulders fingers clawed as she worked her ass, driving my dick deep with each pump. Mr Snake held on as long as he could. She deserved that. But the sensation of her pussy walls rippling along his shaft proved too much. It was as though she had been waiting for him to shoot. My roar and the sensation of my cum splashing against the petals of her cervix set her off. Missy wailed as she rammed my spitting cock deep a final time, then held herself there glued to my chest, letting her orgasm flow through. That was it. She – we – were done. I don't remember a lot after that. We both fell asleep, her still astride me. I went from floating to dreaming; from dreaming to sleep. At some point in the night she must have slid down to lay beside me. I know that because I awoke the next morning with her curled against me with her head snuggled in the crook of my shoulder. We woke together early: me, stiff from lying on my back half the night; her, still with that faint smile feathering her lips. I knew that she wanted me to ask her to untie my wrists, but I just stared back at her, this time with a matching smile. Missy silently nodded, as though agreeing with my decision. My morning wood was standing tall. Missy gave Mr Snake a squeeze in greeting, then took her seat in the saddle again. The sleep was still in her eyes. Her beautiful auburn hair was in morning disarray. Her lipstick was gone, makeup faded, but she was gorgeous in the half-light streaming through the curtains. She straddled me again and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. Her young proud breasts jutted, coral nipples crinkled high. Kneeling up, she grasped my cock to run the head through the divide of her nether lips. Tremors quivered through her naked breasts as she teased herself, coating the head with her oils. We locked eyes as she centered, neither speaking. With an involuntary gasp, she lurched, impaling herself once again. Down, then up quick, pause, then down again, then quickly up again, and down violently. Mr Snake was driven deep. The fat lips of her sex were wrapped tightly around the base of my cock. She paused there for an age, the muscles of her pussy massaging my shaft. Her head fell back. Her eyes closed. She bit her bottom lip at the sensation of being filled so completely. A shudder raced through; residual thrills made her breasts dance. After a moment, she reached out to my wrists and plucked the bows, releasing my arms. In an instant, the world whirled. She was on her back with me lying between her spread legs. Mr Snake was yet buried deep. She looked up with wise, knowing eyes and mouthed two words. "(Fuck me.)" I did. When I dropped Missy off that afternoon, her mother was out, which is just as well. I had no intention of being anywhere near the woman until I could implement Operation Mama. The thought of that made me smile. An evil smile, true, but a smile nonetheless. Mr Snake let me know that he approved of that plan too. Sunday afternoon I took it out of the box and went over all of it again: weighing options and considering possibilities. I went to sleep that night still thinking. Time out. Okay, have you got it now? Yes, I know, I haven't laid everything out for you. I've kept the 'How' parts vague, but you've got an imagination. You can figure it out, I'm sure. And if not, read along and enjoy. Time in. Time out. Having a shaved cock and balls feels mondo strange. Kinda like I'm stripped down, ready to fuck while fully clothed. A guy could get used to that. It's beginning to itch. Now what the fuck do I do? Time in. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms aka – also known as; an acronym most often used enforcement. B&D – Bondage and Discipline; a B&D relationship includes at least one person as a 'top' who enjoys dominating and/or securing (with ropes, chains, leather straps, saran wrap, etc.) and/or using various implements of discipline (whips, canes, belts, paddles, crops etc). The person or persons who enjoy being submissive, secured and disciplined are known as 'bottoms'. bottom – (1) buttocks; (2) the passive or submissive partner in a B&D or S&M relationship. checkmate – Chess term; the king is in check and no move can rescue him from that condition; there is a clear winner. ICU – Intensive Care Unit. Main Squeeze – principle boy or girlfriend or lover; primarily used to describe females. nee – French for 'born'. peccadillo – Spanish for 'a slight offense' or 'sin'. putz – Yiddish for 'penis' or 'dick'; a prick. S&M – Sadism & Masochism; an S&M relationship includes at least one person as a 'top' who enjoys dominating another and inflicting pain – the Sadist – and one person as a 'bottom' – the Mashochist – who enjoys being submissive and receiving pain. sine non qua – the indispensable point or condition. top – the dominant person in an S&M or B&D relationship; female dominents are often known as 'Mistresses'; male dominants are ofter known as 'Masters'. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 07 This is the sixteenth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter VII Gathering the Troops ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. James has the info, he has the basic plans; now he needs the personnel… …and boy, does he have the right personnel in mind. He needs muscle and he needs finesse. He has friends of both persuasion. Now to persuade them. Follow along and meet the team guanteed to take down the bad guys… …or scare them to death in the process. Hang on to your Astroglide… …the James' Gang rides again. Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ VII Gathering the Troops "…The first four plans also required some assistance. For those, I'd need a team. I'm smart, and I'm daring, but I'm also just one guy. To be successful, I'd need some high-powered help. I knew just where to get it…" By the time I woke up the next morning, I had the basic frameworks clear in my mind. The first four operations were going to be almost as fun as Plan One, Operation Mama. Fun for me and my compadres anyway. I set to work early, there was lots to be done in a short time. First I burned a few DVD's with selected cuts from the downloads. That took a couple of hours. Then I spent some time on the telephone. Just before eleven, I left the house. I drove around to see a few people. To those, I played various scenes from the DVD's on my laptop. My first stop was at a housing development site. Maxine and her crew were working there digging a hole for a block of new apartments. On the way I bought heroes and sundry for her gang. The ladies appreciated the feast. We two ate lunch in her pickup while we talked. Maxine was easy to convince. When she viewed the DVD with the two villains discussing Summer's plight, and heard the basics of Operations Tinkerbelle, Guido and Fat Ass, she was in. She was particularly happy to hear that Cassandra would be on hand to assist. She also was quick to offer her house as the meeting site for all prospective members of our team. Maxine offered to bring in Cora and Marti as well. I told her that I had been counting on having those two in on the fun. We agreed to meet at 6, then I was on the road again. Interlude: My pal Maxine I realize now that I haven't given a fair description of my sister Maxine. It's time to correct that oversight. I have said that Maxine is a very big girl. That does not do her justice. I described Dad as being built like a Mack truck. I think of Maxine as more of a Freightliner. One of those big tractors built for the long haul. You know, the ones with a sleepover cab and a huge front end. Maxine is 29. She's 6'4" and claims to be 265. I'd say that she's at least ten pounds heavier, but I'm not about to argue the point. She pumps iron for stress relief. She also claims less than 5% bodyfat. I believe her, but most of that is in her tits. Maxine is at least a 44DD. It's my contention that she carries those extra ten pounds on her chest. Most people have heads smaller than one of her tits. Maxine is indeed a very big girl. For fun, Maxine goes cruising on one of her motorcycles. She has a collection, including several Harley's and a couple of custom choppers, as well as two beautiful Moto Guzzi's. There's even an old Triumph touring bike and a vintage Ducatti. She's a charter member in the local chapter of Dykes on Bykes, and is quite a sight in her leathers. Her usual mode of dress is worn jeans, a denim work shirt and scuffed Frye's motorcycle boots. But don't get the wrong impression. Maxine can be quite lovely when she does herself up. She's only done it once that I know of, but I can confirm, she did look hot. One day she'll describe herself (tongue firmly in cheek) as a girly-girl. The next, a leather dyke. Then, a femme or a butch. Maybe it's because of her size, but the only description she doesn't use to describe herself is 'bull'. She changes with her moods, and sometimes for the woman she's pursuing at the moment. But she's always a lady. It's true that her features are a bit strong to be considered beautiful in the classic sense. But she's got her own face. She's got a square chin with a divot for a dimple, and her nose has been broken at least once. But she has beautiful blue eyes and a great shape: a huge bustline, a relatively small waist and hips just broad enough to match. Her blond hair is cut square to just below her shoulders. She keeps tied up in a ponytail. She has a nice ass and fabulous legs. Sort of a cross between Missy and Natasha, but scaled up a magnitude. Maxine is not uneducated either. She put herself through college with the help of a Track and Field scholarship – shotput, hammer throw and javelin – and ROTC. She has a civil engineering degree, with a minor in History. After school, she spent eight years as an officer in the Navy SeaBee's, four on active duty. In her real life Maxine is an independent Excavating Contractor. That is a fancy way of saying that she moves dirt. Lots of dirt. Mountains of dirt. Maxine owns a dump truck and a cat, plus a few other pieces of large earthmoving equipment. All are custom painted to her specifications. She also does all the maintenance on her equipment. She is as good a mechanic for heavy equipment as she is at moving dirt. So much so, that other contractors pay her to help maintain their equipment. You know when Maxine is coming. You can't miss that truck with the red, white and blue DMD logo on the sides barreling down the road. Like all her heavy equipment, it too is custom painted. Shocking Pink, of course. Time out. DMD, Inc. is the name of her company. It's her private joke on some of the more chauvinistic folks in the construction industry. Not a lot of people are aware that it stands for 'Dykes Moving Dirt'. Time in. I have to say that Maxine looked spectacular when she walked in to the last Halloween party. I should say, when she tottered in; she's not used to heels taller than those on her Frye's, let alone strappy 'fuck-me' sandals with four inch spikes for heels. She walked on tiptoes all night. Those spiked heels couldn't have survived for long carrying her full weight. Anyway, no one recognized her with makeup, sunglasses and her hair styled in waves about her shoulders. Picture it: The room is jammed with women of all shapes, sizes and colors. All are in costume. There are at least five Xena's and a couple of Gabrielle's too. Catwomen, hobos, clowns and witches abound. Two women dressed as Mistresses in tight leather corselettes, leather V-string panties and thigh-high boots are standing by the bar talking. If they look like the real deal, it's because they are. Royal Bitch Goddesses both. Scary. One is in red with black trim, and the other in black with red trim. The former carries a crop. The latter has a leash in her hand. The other end is attached to the studded collar of a young girl dressed as a French maid, kneeling at her feet. The Maids breasts are bare, and little silver bats dangle on delicate chains from her pierced nipples. Occasionally her Mistress bends down to give her a sip of beer and wipe her chin. Often she pats her cheek and gives her a kiss. Little Stephi looks very content. There are two Playboy bunnies – Amanda and Evelyn – and a young woman with her short black hair slicked back, dressed as a 1920's gangster. Kathryn came complete with double-breasted pinstriped suit, spats, snap-brimmed fedora and a violin case containing a toy Thompson. I'm at the end of the crowded bar, talking with Margot and Erin. We are taking in the scene and commenting on the outfits, making bets on who'll win the prizes for best costume. The trio in body paint have my votes. I just can't decide the order. Cathy's tall with short bouncy blond hair, long, long legs and big tits. Her glasses perched on the end of her nose. She's dressed as a school teacher with white blouse and vest, a micro miniskirt, stockings and heels. She looks yummy, particularly when you realize that the blouse and vest are body paint. I love the way her heavy breasts quiver as she moves. Joanie's outfitted as a baseball player, with cap, pinstripes and spikes. Everything below her neck, down to her shoes is paint, except for a tiny and tight pair of soft cotton boyshorts. Her camel's toe is very much in evidence. Nice Puss! She's got the cutest little pair of tits, with nipples that come to sharp points. Man, I'd like to play catch with her for an hour or two. But she bats for the other team, dammit. Dulcie's costume is pretty basic: a conservative maillot swimsuit and slaps. That is, it's conservative until you focus on the fact that, except for a little strip of adhesive tape running down her hairless pussy slit, it's all paint. The tape is painted to match the suit. Surf's Up! And so is Mr Snake. I don't know. You choose. Margot is dressed as Little Bo Peep, complete with bonnet, crooked staff and a stuffed lamb on wheels. Her ruffled dress flares out stiffly from her thighs, displaying her marvelous legs clad in fishnet stockings. And Miss Bo Peep never showed such décolletage in any book of nursery rhymes I've ever read. Erin is a compact Marilyn from the 'Seven Year Itch', with blond wig, billowy red dress and sheer white panties with frills. She flashes the panties occasionally. Very nice puss. Me, I'm dressed as 'Jack' to Cassandra's 'Jill'. She's is out on the dance floor with Jamie, who's perfect as Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Great boobs! Killer violet eyes. I'm wearing an old worn pair of bib jeans, a blue gingham shirt with the sleeves rolled up and hightop Doc Marten's. I've got a bloody bandage around my head and a big pail. The pail is full of ice, packed around a smaller pail half-full of beer. We replenish our glasses at need. The taps are busy. 'Jill' is in pigtails. Her blue and white gingham jumper twirls out from the tops of her thighs. Though I've allowed her to wear a v-string, her bare asscheeks flash as she dances. The wide straps of the jumper frame her jutting breasts. Her bodice is semi-sheer with muttonchop shoulders. It's gathered with elastic just beneath her tits. She has a tiny white apron, tied with a large bow. Her white stockings end just above her knees, leaving her thighs bare. Wide straps locked to her ankles hold her high-heeled buckle shoes to her feet. Nadine is in the hall sucking face with a new member, Maureen. Nadine's a sailor in her blues ready to ship out. Thirteen-button wool bellbottoms, jumper, neckerchief with a dixiecup on top. Where she found a uniform large enough to fit, I'll never know. Maureen is a depraved bobby soxer, with black poodle miniskirt, crinoline petticoats and pink sweater cropped to leave her midriff bare. Her costume is perfect with bobby sox turned down at the ankles and high heels made to look like saddle shoes. Nadine's hands are under Maureen's skirt, kneading her asscheeks. A couple of the women are next to us leaning on the bar. Bull dykes and butches both, Chaz and Micki are identical as Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. Alice is standing between them, of course, costumed as her namesake. Her blue dress is short, flaring out stiffly from her tiny waist. Her décolletage is deep, leaving her rouged nipples peeking over the edge of her apron. Her pantaloons are sheer with ruffles all down the legs, and her feet are clad in Mary Janes of glossy black patent leather. Forty or fifty couples are on the dance floor, rocking to the band. The music is fast and the bass is thumpin' but a few of those couples are out of step. They're slow dancing, touching each other and kissing. Marti and her partner Tiffany are one of those couples. Tiff in lost in Marti's arms. She's tiny, particularly compared to Marti. They've been together for quite a while now. Love really is grand. Time out. Tiffany has a very upscale gallery downtown She only handles the paintings, sculpture and jewelry of female artists. I introduced her to Chloe. Now her jewelry is center stage in a case near the entrance to the shop. Their making a ton of money together. There's talk that Tiffany is looking to get pregnant soon. I know they've been looking into artificial insemination. I'm in on it because she and Marti asked me if I'd be interested in donating the juice. I told them that I'd rather it done the old fashioned way, then jumped back quick. Marti knew that I was kidding, but her playful punches leave the same size bruises as Maxine's. They looked startled at first, then Tiff grinned. Maybe she's thinking about it. Hope so. Tiffany can talk Marti into anything. Time in. Tonight Marti is a deputy sheriff. One can only hope that's not a real Glock in her holster. The uniform looks real enough, including the hat and mirror sunglasses. Tiffany is straight out of 'Gone with the Wind'. Southern accent, hoop skirt, ruffled petticoats and a gown that would make Scarlett green with envy. The corset she's wearing makes her waistline about 18". The neckline of the gown plunges to the tips of her generous breasts, for all to see and admire. The gang at the bar is arguing amiably whether or not her nipples are rouged. Margot says no one has natural nipples that color of deep pink. Saundra agrees with her, but Erin and Gwendolyn demur. I reserve my opinion, but admire the result. Whether they're natural or lipgloss enhanced, Tiffany's nipples do look yummy. Everyone is drinking and talking, just having a good time. Except for Snow White, she of the big, very bare tits, and Cinderella in the corset gown showing deep décolletage, over by the entrance. Valerie and Kate are getting ready to duke it out over Prince Charming (Kelin). She is standing beside, trying without much success to mediate the dispute. She looks bored, like she's been through the whole thing before. Their argument ends abruptly. All conversation trails off, then stops. The music too falters, and the room grows quiet. Everyone's eyes turn to the door. Standing in the entrance is a gorgeous blonde Amazon, at least 6'8" in her high-heeled sandals. She's a goddess in a strapless bustier of purple lace, a micro-miniskirt made of black leather, smoky stockings with a pattern woven in and a pair of strappy "fuck me" sandals with spiked four inch heels. Around her neck She has a black velvet choker with an ivory cameo. The woman is tanned to a golden brown. Her sun-blond hair cut in a 'Rachel' cascades in golden waves around her face and down, brushing her bare shoulders. The bustier, hooked low on her back, can barely hold her huge breasts. It leaves her broad back and smoothly muscled shoulders bare to her nipples. A silver belly ring with a shiny 'Eat Pussy!' charm dangles from her pierced navel. Her stomach is bare, showing six-pack abs. The miniskirt is cut low on her broad hips and high on her thighs. Twin chrome zippers trail down from hem to waist on either side. The skirt is tiny and tight, accentuating the dramatic curves of her hips. The strings of her panties arch high across those curves from front to back. Her hair, makeup and outfit are all perfect. She looks as if she was ready for a plus size xxx-rated photoshoot. She is striking, and she knows it. The intoxicating scent of Chanel Allure wafts into the room. 'Blatant lust' doesn't begin to describe her. The sisters just stand there with their jaws hanging. The gorgeous stranger looks good enough to eat, and the ladies are lining up for chow. A low murmur whispered through the crowd as the luscious blond strikes a pose in the arch of the entryway. One arm stretched up the column. The other fist rests on the curve of her cocked hip. She tilts down her sunglasses, looks over the near silent crowd for a minute then grins and announces, "The first one of you horny dykes that brings me a fresh beer gets to eat my pussy." Everyone's eyes get big. Again the room is absolutely silent for a heartbeat. Suddenly from the corner Marti blurts, "Jee-zus Kee-riste-on-a-crutch! It's Maxine!!!" Then the rush starts. Everyone races for the taps. One young girl dressed as a ballerina, tries to cheat. But she has half a glass and foam on her lip. Maxine downs the beer, but gives Samantha the buzzer, and tells her better luck next time. She licks the foam away as a consolation prize though. Then she gives the girl a lingering kiss. Little Samantha looks like she's cumming in her tiny tutu. Her inner thighs are quivering. A tiny wet spot dots the crotch of the tutu. Cora had been at the tap pouring herself a beer when Maxine made her entrance. By the time she becomes conscious of the beer flowing over her wrist, about a gallon has gone down the drain. She glances at her glass, blinks, then grins as she takes off for the gap in the bar. Beer is still pouring from the open tap. She has the inside track, but has trouble with her goalie pads as she makes the turn. Leigh is built for speed, and came as Mystique. Flaming red hair, a micro bikini sans top, blue body paint and blue scales glued to her skin, but nothing more to get in the way. She pours a full pint and vaults the bar without spilling a drop. She lands on the run, and beats Cora by a BCH. Maxine tosses off both beers, gives a discreet belch and calls it a tie. Maxine's Ms. Puss and Mr Snake have more in common than one would think at first glance. Cora was all for going down on her right there. Ms. Puss may have been willing, but Maxine had come to party. She put her arms around both Cora and Leigh, then tottered in to greet the rest of the mob. Neither one left Maxine's side for the rest of the night, except to get her beer. I heard later from Cora that the three of them carried on all night at Maxine's place after the blowout at the clubhouse wound down. She said the three of them had a helluva time in Maxine's big shower together getting all that blue paint off Leigh's ass. Maxine really did look good that night. What really blew us all away though was the surprise under the miniskirt. That night, and for probably the first time in her life, Maxine wore a garter belt and sheer black V-string panties that tied with big bows high on her curved hips. Now Cora's in love. Mr Snake sat right up when she raised those zippers and lifted the front panel of her skirt. Maxine had gone all out. She had even had her pussy plucked for the event. Not being used to wearing miniskirts, Maxine flashed the room every time she sat down. Mr Snake was sniffing so much prime pussy, at that point he was going into overload. The sight of Maxine's bare pussy wrapped in sheer black silk almost made him premature. Maxine's Ms. Puss is definitely Prime. The two of us sat at the bar talking for a bit later that night. Maxine and I had been pals for a while, but that was the first time I viewed her as a possible bedmate. Too much beer can make a person see, think and do some strange things, but I hadn't had that much to drink. Maybe it was the outfit. D'ya think? She caught me looking, and punched my arm good-naturedly. Ooowwwie! My arm hurt for two days. But I noticed that she checked out my package too. She just gave me a lazy grin and told me not to get my hopes up. Mr Snake was devastated. It's all good in the end. Cassandra was dripping by the time we got to her place. Gwendolyn, the woman dressed as the Mistress in red, pays the bills working in an office. But she's a Mistress after work, as is her friend Saundra, the one in black. Gwendolyn asked for my permission, then pulled Cassandra into the back room for a short but intense training session. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 07 Cassandra's asscheeks were lined with thin red stripes and her eyes were wild when Mistress Gwendolyn brought her back to me. After giving Gwendolyn a fearful glance, she placed her v-string on the bar. The gusset was sodden. Cassandra didn't wear panties for the rest of the night, nor did she sit much. By the time we left, she was desperate to fuck. Mr Snake got his. Oh, I never did decide between Cathy, Joanie and Dulcie, the three in the body paint. In my mind they all tied for second. Her hooker costume won Maxine the grand prize by acclamation. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms BCH – Blond Cunt Hair; It's rounder, therefore thicker than a red cunt hair; see 'RCH'. bull dyke – a lesbian with an exagerated aggressively masculine presentation and attitude. bustier – a corset-like, tight-fitting, often strapless top worn as a brassiere or outer garment. butch – a lesbian displaying aggressively male characteristics. compadre(s) – a close friend or companion. décolletage – a low neckline on a dress, blouse, bra etc. which shows a substantial amount of a woman's breasts. Doc Marten's – a brand name of a shoe which features heavy soles and heels femme – describes a lesbian who is notably or stereotypically feminine in appearance and manner. "fuck me" sandals – women's shoes with heels three inches or more; when the woman walks, the tall heels make her ass sway delightfully. girly-girl – A young woman with a strictly feminine personality; think pink ribbons and bows; the term has been somewhat preempted by the gay community to describe a lesbian with those characteristics; a lesbian girly-girl maintains the role of a female within the relationship. Glock – a firearms manufacturer specializing in pistols of various types and calibers. leather dyke – a lesbian who is into the leather scene, including B&D and/or S&M; usually describes a 'bull' or 'butch' woman in the leather scene. Mary Janes – girl's shoes with low heels, round toes and a strap that buckles across the arch of the foot. Master – a male who is dominant in a dominant/submissive relationship; see 'Mistress'. Mistress – a female who is dominant in a dominant/submissive relationship; see 'Master'. package – the crotch area of a man's pants or slacks and how his genitals appear to fit within the area. pantaloons – long-legged underwear, often with ruffles, worn by women during the 18th and 19th centuries. Rachel (hairstyle) – a woman's hairstyle modeled upon that of 'Rachel Green', Jennifer Aniston's character in 'Friends'. RCH – an old, rather obscene Navy term meaning the tiniest bit: the thickness of a Red Cunt Hair. Red hair curls because it's flat, therefore thin. ROTC – Reserve Officer Training Corps; a program for college students in which a branch of the US Military offers scholarships in return for a eight year commitment. sans – French for 'without'. SeaBee – CB; Construction Battalion; USN branch which performs construction operations in forward operating areas; includes all trades (carpenters, steelworkers, welders; steeplejacks; heavy equipment operators, etc.) six-pack (abs) – well-developed abdominal muscles; when toned to a certain point, the muscles form a series of ridges beneath the skin which resemble a double row of soda or beer cans – a six-pack. v-string – women's underwear; panties or thong. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 08 This is the seventeenth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter VIII Goddesses are hard to cum by ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. James is putting together his dream team. He needs two more players to fill his roster. And what a roster it is. He has his scary muscle… Now he needs scary finesse. One lady literally holds the keys to the inquisition to come… …if only he can convince her. It shouldn't be a problem, but our hero takes nothing for granted. He's got the right ammunition. Let's see if he can put it on target. Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ VIII Goddesses are hard to cum by "…To get (their) copies of the evidence against Veronica; because of (their) plan to assault Missy; because Summer deserves some recompense for the abuse she suffered at (their) hands…" Maxine and the gang were on board. I had been fairly confident that they would be. Next it was time to meet with a lady who could be one of the more formidable members of the team. I knew her well. She did not appear frightening to me, but I knew she would scare the shit out of couple of other people. If she joined. I had the scary muscle; I needed the scary finesse. Marco and Wendy had played at being Dominants. If things worked out, they were going to meet the real thing. I've mentioned that Gwendolyn and Saundra were both Mistresses. Gwendolyn also works as an Administrator for the City Bureau of Parks and Recreation. My next destination was her office. I'd called earlier to make an appointment. I didn't go into details, but said that our conversation would involve more of her private persona than her public. I wanted her advice and possibly, to enlist her assistance in a certain project. To say that she was intrigued is an understatement. I drove downtown to the City Building. It was still early, but traffic was a bitch. I hate driving in town. Parking was no picnic either, particularly on the street. But luck was with me. A guy in a VW bug pulled out right in front of me. I took that to be a good omen. The parking spot was less than a block from Gwendolyn's building. Time out. Gwendolyn is a tall, slender woman in her forties. Of French-Canadian ancestry, there's a touch of Native American in the mix. Maybe Irish too: there are those gorgeous emerald green eyes. She has straight black hair, long enough to cover her butt when she wears it down. Her voice is deep for a woman. Almost husky. But that's her natural tone. She can do amazing things with her voice. I've seen a man wilt when she spoke. But she can also give a guy a hard-on with about three words. She has a ready-made vocation if nothing else works out for her. She'd make a mint giving phone sex. She is fashionably thin, but also nicely curved. She carries herself taller than she is, particularly when wearing thigh-high leather boots with five inch heels. She is 5'8" and maybe 130. Her breasts are small, but nicely shaped. She's a 34B. I know that for sure, because I've seen the entire presentation from close range: as in her riding cowgirl. In her public life, she is known as a competent mid-level bureaucrat. She's warm and friendly to her co-workers and the staff of that department. She's quiet and a hard worker. In her private life, she's divorced with a son and a daughter, both enrolled in colleges out of state. Her former husband had a violent streak, in which he indulged one too many times. Her legal counsel is a woman, and one of the best divorce lawyers in the city. The lawyer is also the volunteer counsel for that local chapter of lesbian rights group already mentioned. Though straight herself, she is committed to women's rights. She also has a hard-on for men who beat women. To make a long, very ugly story short, Gwendolyn ended up with virtually everything in the divorce settlement. They kept the kids out of middle. He bought their house back from her, so they stay with him most of the time when they're in town. She discounted the note to a bank, then used the cash to buy a place of her own. Gwendolyn lives alone, but for three big dogs, in a cozy three bedroom ranch house. It's sited on about fifty acres of woodlands and fields not far from the city. She has lots of trees, and the east edge of the property borders on the river. She bought the place not long after her divorce. The previous owner had been something of a woodworker. He did a beautiful job on the interior cabinetry, bookshelves and furnishings. One of the principal reasons Gwendolyn bought that piece of property is the large outbuilding near the house. The former owner used the outbuilding as his workshop and for storing hardwood. When he died, his heirs sold the place as it was. Gwendolyn sold all the tools, and most of the wood. Now calls the outbuilding her studio. It's a bit more than that now. That has to do with Gwendolyn discovering herself. Gwendolyn changed more than her name and address when she divorced her husband. She changed her way of living. One of the results of her change in lifestyle was that she began to explore her sexuality. Men friends she found easily. There are lots of guys on the hunt for a beautiful woman that prefers sex with no-strings. She was choosy about her partners, but still managed to find a few decent guys with whom she could go dancing, have dinner, see a movie or even share her bed. Gwendolyn enjoyed her new-found freedom. She had no desire to be tied into a relationship so soon after getting it. Women friends were different. Gwendolyn had never grown close to any of her neighbors. What few female friends she had were the wives of her husband's friends. When she moved, she left them all behind without a thought. Neither had she any close friends at work. She isn't a 'people' person, but decided to explore her new world a bit. She started with the only woman she had spent any time with in the last view months of her marriage, her lawyer. Happy to help Gwendolyn adjust to her new life, her lawyer introduced her to a few women friends. One of the women, unbeknownst to the lawyer, was and is heavy into B&D as a top. Gwendolyn's new friend, Vicki, introduced her to the scene, where her new friend is known as Mistress Victoria. Something inside blossomed the first time Gwendolyn walked into the club. She had a taste and an aptitude for it that soon made her one of the most popular Mistresses in the city. She found that she could pick out submissives just by watching them and talking to them for a few minutes. She knew their needs and desires without effort. Time out. Does any of this sound familiar? Gwendolyn and I discuss our sixth sense frequently. Time in. Anyway, I met Gwendolyn as a matter of course when Cassandra introduced me to the club. We quickly became friends. Good friends. Only she and Cassandra know my true age. Everyone else there assumes that I'm in my mid-twenties. She also met Saundra there. Saundra is a lesbian as well as a Mistress, heavy into S&M. She introduced Gwendolyn to that scene. Gwendolyn prefers B&D. She isn't into pain for its own sake. Don't get me wrong, she is not above handing out appropriate punishments when she feels it necessary. Her discipline is known to be very painful at times. Where Saundra is a butch dyke and a hardcore Mistress, Gwendolyn is bisexual and likes to step away from her role as Mistress occasionally. She still enjoys straight sex with either a man or a woman. I don't know that Saundra ever steps out of her role. She loves to tease a male submissive, but never allows more than his tongue to touch her. Usually, but not always, on the toe of her boot. Every so often, She'll let a guy taste her pretty. But she has to be in the right mood, and he had to have a very good boy to be given such a treat. She drives some guys nuts that way. They pay handsomely for the pleasure. Gwendolyn on the other hand, will sometimes reward her male submissives while taking her pleasure with their bodies. Though she is definitely in control when she indulges. She had had more than enough of the Missionary Position, in and out of bed, when she was married. Now, when she's in her role as Mistress, she's on top or it does not happen. Period. Time in. Before her divorce and lifestyle conversion, Gwendolyn had been known around her office as 'Gwen' Greenfield. As part of the proceedings, she took her maiden name again. Her coworkers easily made the change to Ms. Maîtresse. After having worked with her for a number of years though, it was impossible to get them to use her full first name despite her preferences. I asked for Gwendolyn Maîtresse at the front desk – security in government buildings is a pain in the ass now – but she was coming out of the elevator as I gave the guard her name. He glanced into my laptop, then waved me through. While we went up to her office, our conversation was innocuous. Once her door closed though, she was eager to hear. I let the laptop do most of my explaining. Her eyes began to gleam as she watched silently. The scene starring the two villains, and that featuring Marco and Wendy played out before she spoke again. Her first words were, "I presume you mean to punish these crêtins. How may I assist?" It was that easy. Like I said, in many ways, Gwendolyn and I are simpatico. I spent an hour or so laying out the operations. Then we spent another hour going over everything. She had a couple of good suggestions, which we incorporated into the plans. Most importantly, she offered her facilities for my use. I had been counting on that offer too. Time out That's where Gwendolyn's studio comes into the picture. The outbuilding has three levels: a loft in which hardwood was once stored. The main floor, half of which is open while the other half is divided into a full bathroom with a shower, and an enclosed room that was designed as a paint room, now used for storage. Then there is the basement, or as Gwendolyn prefers, her dungeon. The dungeon is deep. The beams of the ceiling are twelve feet above the rough slate floor. The walls are stone. There's an open shower in one corner, and a toilet with a curtain in the other. Very primitive. Since she purchased the place, a few additions have been made. There are now four individual soundproof cells which are fitted with heavy steel reinforced doors. The walls of the cells are stone, matching exactly the stone of the foundation. Each cell has a single light which is recessed in the ceiling and covered with a sheet of unbreakable plastic. There are no windows, though she has had cameras installed, aimed so that all areas of each cell are visible. There are no other furnishings in any of the cells. If the person being confined is on his or her best behavior, Mistress Gwendolyn has been known to provide a thin pad to spread on the cold stone floor. The place is dark and dingy on purpose. The paint scheme on the walls and floors make it look filthy. Scattered here and there in strategic spots are droplets of red paint. Some are dark, some are bright red. It sounds corny, but under the right conditions, the sight can be downright scary. A separate room takes up one corner of the dungeon. The room has gleaming white tile walls and floor. An examination table complete with stirrups, a stainless steel autopsy table and a dentist's chair with operating drill are fastened to the floor. Each is equipped with wide leather straps used to restrain a reluctant patient. Gwendolyn keeps the dungeon as clean as on operating room. Or rather, a couple of her subs do. Their kink is to dress up as French maids. So she provides the costumes and they spend an afternoon each week cleaning and disinfecting the place. The sight of two overweight men dressed in a frilly maid's outfits, tottering around in four inch heels is one that I will go far out of my way to avoid. But as they say, different strokes. She wipes everything down after each scene, but the two subs do the thorough cleaning under her direction. Any of the implements used in a particular scene are cleaned and disinfected before being used again too. There are also the standard accoutrements to be found in any medieval dungeon: a rack, stocks of various designs, a padded vaulting horse and a St. Andrew's cross made of thick wooden posts which had been bolted to one wall. There's another, more lightly constructed cross, on casters. There are heavy steel hooks fastened in the massive ceiling joists. Bars and chains with cuffs dangle here and there. A blacksmith's forge takes up one corner. The chimney angles to the wall where it joins to that of the fireplace in the Living Room above. Fire blackened branding irons along with smith's tools hang from pegs on the wall nearby. Questioners of the Spanish Inquisition would have been very much at home in Gwendolyn's dungeon. One entire wall is lined with rows of hooks, from which hang every type of whip, flogger, crop, cane or paddle you can imagine. Twenty feet of kinky fun. There are cabinets filled with various dildoes, from little pocket rockets to a couple the size of a donkey's dick with handles. Butt plugs and strap-on harnesses of varying sizes fill one shelf. Nipple clamps, clit clips and clothes pins of various kinds and sizes fill another. Ball-stretchers and cock cages fill a fourth. Various gags, head harnesses, masks and blindfolds are stored in another cabinet or on hooks nearby. There's also a large closet full of costumes, most of leather and latex, with a smaller mix of silk, satin and lace. All in all, it's as complete a collection of implements of discipline as can be found anywhere. We needed a place that we could control completely. Gwendolyn's place is perfect. Using the townhouse was too dangerous. After all, the bad guys and I had both bugged the place. Who knew what other recording devices were installed there? It made me wonder if Veronica herself had made recordings of her assignations. Time in. After everything was clear to our satisfaction, Gwendolyn made a few telephone calls, clearing her calendar for the next ten days. She notified Personnel that she would be out of the office on vacation until Monday-a-week. Then she cleared her extracurricular calendar using a cell phone she keeps for her private persona. One gentleman was very disappointed. Gwendolyn had to be sharp with him. She promised him a thorough thrashing with her riding crop the next time she saw him. I think the threat made him cum. Like I said, she has a helluva voice. She also called Saundra, who I had spoken to earlier in the day. Her eyes twinkled as she told Saundra that she really wanted to be in on my plans. Gwendolyn advised her to cancel or defer her appointments for the next ten days, as I was going to keep her busy. She didn't go into details, but gave Saundra the meeting time and offered to pick her up on the way. Saundra declined the offer, but by the time Gwendolyn ended the conversation, Saundra was halfway committed. When she hung up, we just sat there looking at each other for a few minutes. We were both doing the same thing: running everything over in our minds, wondering what we could have forgotten. Finally our eyes focussed again. She smiled and said, "As a lady once said, "…Que sera, sera…". By that time, it was nearing four in the afternoon. She had a couple of things to finish, but planned to leave within twenty minutes or so. I used my cell phone to call in a big takeout order of Chinese. Then I called Maxine and told her the change of plans. I gave her directions to Gwendolyn's place, and told her that I'd provide dinner and the beer. On the way out to the car I called Mom and told her that I wouldn't be home that night. We exchanged the latest news, and she reminded me to bring Missy over for dinner before she left for Italy. Then she blew me a kiss, told me to be careful – which is her standard salutation to me – then rang off. I love my Mom. She is so cool. The last thing I did before driving over to Cassandra's shop was stop by FedEx to drop off an Overnight Envelope. Inside was one of the DVD's and a text message that Gwendolyn and I had composed, then run off on her laser printer. Of course we both were quite careful handling everything. I paid extra to have it delivered to the magazine by 8 AM. The addressee was Wendy Jean Sanders. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms B&D – Bondage and Discipline; a B&D relationship includes at least one person as a 'top' who enjoys dominating and/or securing (with ropes, chains, leather straps, saran wrap, etc.) and/or using various implements of discipline (whips, canes, belts, paddles, crops etc). The person or persons who enjoy being submissive, secured and disciplined are known as 'bottoms'. butch – a lesbian displaying aggressively male characteristics; see bull dyke; a butch may play the part without necessarily looking the part: she may be the girl next door. cowgirl (riding) – a sexual position with the woman kneeling upright over her partner as though riding a horse. dom – short for Dominant; a Master or Mistress; see 'Dominant'. Dominant – a Master or Mistress; see 'dom'. hard-on – erection. Master – a male who is dominant in a dominant/submissive relationship; see 'Mistress'. Mistress – a female who is dominant in a dominant/submissive relationship; see 'Master'. Que sera, sera – Spanish: 'What will be, will be'; a song made popular by Doris Day in 1956. S&M – Sadism & Masochism; an S&M relationship includes at least one person as a 'top' who enjoys inflicting pain – the Sadist – and one person as a 'bottom' – the Mashochist – who enjoys receiving pain. sub – see 'submissive'. submissive – a person who attains sexual gratification by submitting to the demands of another; see 'sub'. top – the dominant person in an S&M or B&D relationship; female Dominants are often known as 'Mistresses'; male dominants are often known as 'Masters'. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 09 This is the eighteenth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter IX "…Hail! Hail! The Gangs All Here…!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Okay, the plans are in motion and the team is coming together to go over it all. James has his muscle and his finesse, but most importantly, he has his base of operations. He's ready and the ladies are rapidly catching up. But while they're mulling the plans and they're parts, lets take a few minutes to get to know better a couple of those team members. You've met them before, but let's get a bit more intimate with Cora and Marti. Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter IX "…Hail! Hail! The Gangs All Here…!" "…As a lady once said, Que sera, sera…" When I walked out of the FedEx Office, we were committed. I did a status check, and found myself both eager and confident. My team was set, and they were good. All that remained was to fill them in. The bass was bumpin' again as I drove over to pick up Cassandra. She was waiting by the front counter, and paused only long enough to lock the door before hopping in the Miata. We stopped to get the takeout, then to pickup a couple of cases of beer, and two bottles of a particularly fine Bordeaux that I knew Gwendolyn would like. The drive to her place took about a half hour in rush-hour traffic, but we got there shortly after five. Three vehicles were parked in a graveled area near the house: an old beater pickup Gwendolyn uses to haul things, her Lexus SUV and a bright red Corvette. Saundra was wearing drawstring pants of loose-weave coarse white cotton that rode low on her hips, and a royal blue croptop tee that left her flat belly bare. Nice abs. Saundra wears thongs. The strings rode high on her hips. The pants were see-through. Nice pooper. No fuzz showing. Hhmmmm. Don't get your hopes up James. Straight sex with a guy ain't her scene. Down Mr Snake, down boy! Gwendolyn had been home long enough to change into a pair of khaki cargo shorts that sat low on her hips, and an off-the-shoulder peasant's blouse. She and Saundra were sitting in the garden talking over glasses of wine when we came up the gravel drive. Her dogs, Bruno, Lady and Fritz a trio of purebred German Shepherds, lay on the grass at their feet. The dogs rose up on their haunches, ears high, when they heard the engine, but settled again at a word from their Mistress when Gwendolyn recognized my car. Gwendolyn doesn't worry about security, though her house is a bit remote. Those are big dogs, and very well trained. We put the food in the oven to keep it warm, and iced the beer in a big cooler, then sat discussing the plan over a glass of wine in Gwendolyn's big front room. I was right about the Bordeaux. Saundra's dark eyes narrowed as she watched the action on my laptop, but began dancing as she listened to the basic outline of the plans. She was immediately enthusiastic. It was obvious that she was already making her own plans. I could almost feel sorry for Marco. My homeboy was going to regret meeting Summer May before we were done with him. The whites started to show in Cassandra's eyes as I spoke. I hadn't given her any of the details, just that she would be assisting in disciplining a few people. It was apparent to all that she was getting excited as she listened to the plans unfold. Shortly before six Maxine's pickup roared up the driveway in a cloud of dust. Cora was beside her and Marti was in the rear seat. It's a good thing the truck is a big diesel duelie with a crew cab. It needed the power to pull the weight, and all three of those ladies sitting in one seat together would find it a very tight squeeze. Time out. I guess it's about time to fill you in on my "sister's" Cora and Marti. You know them as a couple of rather large ladies who happen to be lesbians, but that doesn't tell you much. Here's some of what I know: Interlude: My Pal Cora First, there's Cora: she and Maxine met in the service. Cora was a CE2 in Maxine's SeaBee Company until her enlistment was up about this time last year. Now she works as a journeyman electrician here in town. We celebrated her birthday about a week ago. She's 23. She's also the smallest of the three at about 5'11" 260 on a stocky frame. At a distance, Cora actually looks smaller than she is because she's chunky, built a bit like a fire plug. She has both wide shoulders and a wide… 'beam', shall we say. She does get a little narrower in between her tits and her ass, but the last time Cora wore pants with a 20" waist was when she was four. There ain't a lot of fat there though. She does have a bit of a pooch from too much beer, but there is also a lot of muscle beneath the padding. Her tits are on the small side. I'd guess she's about a B cup. She keeps her dark brown hair cut short and away from her square face. She has soft brown eyes and amazingly long eyelashes. With her face and build, one might expect her to be a stone bull dyke, but Cora has a feminine side. She's only comfortable showing that side to a few people that she trusts. Cora trusts me. I like her; she likes me. We are friends, good friends I think. The trait I find most appealing in Cora is her loyalty. If she befriends you, you're a friend for life. She doesn't have a whole lot of male friends. Cora didn't know me from a doorknob. But when she heard about the Erin's scene in the parking lot with Larry, Moe and Stupid, Cora made a point of tracking me down to thank me personally for what I'd done. That's class. Erin told me later that it was Cora's idea to adopt me into the 'sisterhood'. The night of the incident, I'd mentioned to my parents that there had been a dustup in the parking lot after class, but I hadn't gone into details. I just left it that I'd been a witness to an assault, the police were involved and that there was a faint chance that I might be called as a prosecution witness. I didn't want Mom to be upset, so I downplayed the whole thing. Two evenings later, the doorbell rang. Dad was out back doing something. Mom and I had just finished the dishes. She said that she'd get it, so I went out to help Dad. Mom answered the door, and there was Cora. About a half-hour later, Mom called me into the house. Her eyes were glistening a bit. She had a funny-strange kind of half smile on her face. If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn that she was on the verge of tears, but she didn't look sad, she looked... I don't know, happy, or proud maybe. She reached up to kiss my cheek. I asked her what was up, but she just laid her hand my cheek for a moment, then told me that there was someone in the Living Room waiting to talk to me. Then she went out back to Dad. Curious, I walked into the Living Room to find a rather large young woman perched on the couch sipping a cup of coffee. She looked like a Defensive Tackle with tits. She stood to shake my hand and introduce herself. Her voice was surprisingly normal for a woman. You'd think with that barrel chest it would be deeper. I looked again, trying to be as objective as I could. Yep, definitely a Tackle. Too blocky to be a Linebacker. Big enough to play college ball anyway. Looked to be in shape too. We'd never met, so I didn't fully appreciate the extent that she'd gone to, to dress for the occasion. The blazer, blouse and loose pleated slacks she wore fit perfectly and were feminine in cut. Her short hair was neatly styled. Cora wasn't wearing makeup, but there was no doubt that she was female. Just not your typical female. We sat down again, and Cora got right to the point. She told me that Erin was a friend of hers, not close but still, a friend. She said that if there was anything she could ever do to help repay the debt, all I had to do was ask. Of course, I waved it away, saying that anyone would have done exactly the same thing. I just happened to be the one to come along at the right time. But she shook her head and told me something that I hadn't known. Apparently at least five other people had seen what was happening, and did nothing more than get in their cars and drive away. One, a girl, drove up long enough to yell at them to stop. But Stupid flashed his knife and told her to get lost and keep her fucking mouth shut, or they'd find her and do her next. Then he turned on Erin as the girl raced away. He told her that they were each going to fuck her three ways, then keep her nipples for souvenirs. Since she was a fucking dyke, she had no need for them anyway. The girl in the car must have believed Stupid's threat. Neither she, nor any of the others bothered to call 911 right away. It wasn't until almost an hour later that Emergency Services logged the first call. Anonymous, of course. Another followed ten minutes later. That was it. No other calls. I was the only one who had jumped in right there while it was happening. I hadn't thought about it; I just did it. Going one on three with those goons was the right thing to do. Some would say stupid maybe, but if I hadn't been there, Erin would have been gang raped, probably mutilated and possibly murdered. Couldn't let that happen. No way. It shook me that no other witness bothered to help until far too late. I guess the world is more dangerous than I had imagined. At least more indifferent. Time out. In the event you care to read a blow-by-blow account of this dust up, read Chapter I of this missive. Time in. Anyway, having said what she'd come to say, Cora rose to leave. She turned at the door to shake my hand again. She held it for a moment longer than necessary, looked my right in the eye, and told me to remember what she had said: if I ever needed help, to let her know. As she walked down the front steps it occurred to me that she had been talking to Mom for some time. I asked Cora what she had said to her. Cora turned and for the first time gave me that Cora grin that I've come to know and love. Then she said, "Oh nothing much. I just told her that she had a helluva good guy for a son, and to make sure that you kept Saturday night open. That's the night we introduce new members to the local chapter." I must have looked puzzled, because her grin got wider. Then she hit me with it. "We're working out the details," she continued, "but don't worry. We'll fix it. Saturday night you come out of the closet. You'll be a full-fledged card-carrying lesbian, with the papers to prove it." Then she turned and walked away giggling. It was a great party. Mom and Dad were invited too. All being ex-Navy, Dad, Maxine and Cora hit it off right away. Those three give Marti a bad time, but she takes it in stride. She calls them "the squids" and they call her "the jarhead". Being an honorary one-star Marine, Mom's on Marti's side. Game, set and match: Marti. All three ladies address Dad as "Master Chief", which tickles him no end. He calls Maxine "Lieutenant", which makes her smile and stand a little straighter; or "Ma'am", which the other two think is a hoot. Of course, Cora and Mom were buds from the first moment. But Mom being Mom made friends with half the women there. I say half, because they only stayed for a couple of hours. She didn't have time to meet them all. Erin escorted her around. Like I said before, since the party, those two have become close. Erin's mother cut her off when she came out of the closet. Mom fills that gap. I think she fills the gap for many of the sisters. Particularly the younger ones. She's that way. Mom never had a daughter. Now she's got a roomful. Makes her happy. Them too. Interlude: My Pal Marti Which brings us to my homey Marti: She's 6'2" about 270. She wears her short thick black hair, about collar length with a part on the left. She has dark green eyes with tiny gold flecks, under heavy black eyebrows. The timbre of her voice is in the lower octave range. Marti's 28 going on 12. Where Cora is the serious one, Marti is spontaneous and loves practical jokes, particularly those played on someone else. When those gold flecks are twinkling, you know something is about to happen to someone. Marti green eyes are usually dancing. She first met Maxine on a road trip with the local chapter of the Dykes on Bykes. Marti owns a '64 Pan Head that she has restored to the original condition. It's her baby. She only rides it on special occasions. For everyday use, she tools around on her Lowrider, or in her classic '68 Shelby Mustang convertible. Marti is the least chubby one in the posse. Not that I'd say that she's a lightweight. At 280 she's about 10 pounds over her fighting weight, but an active duty Marine tends to keep his or her self in top shape. Like her buds Maxine and Cora, Marti has a lot of muscle too. Her upper arms are almost as big as her partner Tiffany's thighs. Marti's body carries those extra pounds as padding for the most part. Except her belly, where she's developed a little tiny pooch since she left the service. Some of that extra padding has also concentrated in her tits. She is at least a 42D. Back when she was in shape, Marti was a Staff Sergeant in the Marine Corps. She had meant to make a career of it. She was jet engine mechanic. A good one, and a good Marine. But she got caught up in the 'Don't Ask; Don't Tell' nonsense. In her case, it was mostly her own fault though. She got caught doing an officer's wife. Oops. Worse for her career, the he was a Second Lieutenant not a year of the Academy, and they were caught by him in his bed. Big Oops. The 2nd LT was not happy finding his sweet little wife in his bed naked with someone else. As an officer, he was understandably upset that she was doing the horizontal bop with one of the troops. As a man, he was particularly pissed that the troop boinking his wife was another female using a strap-on. All of that was bad enough to come home to find. But what completely enraged him was that the dildo obviously giving his wife so much pleasure – very apparently more pleasure than he had ever given her: she was wailin' like a banshee – was twice as big as his own dick. Oowwee! That really slammed his male ego bone. He was supposed to be out in the field for a couple of weeks on maneuvers, but he broke his arm diving into a hole a bit too aggressively when the mortar shells started popping. He was airlifted back to the base hospital, then decided to surprise his wife with a little 'afternoon delight'. He surprised her alright. Mrs 2nd LT was 22, a gorgeous little blond with big blue eyes and pointy tits the size of softballs on a 5'2" frame. She had been a cheerleader, and the Homecoming queen at a small private college her daddy helped finance. Of course she was also a member of the most popular and exclusive sorority on campus. Not surprisingly, it also had been her mother's sorority . Having gotten everything she ever wanted all her life, she was more than a bit spoiled too. As Miss Sorority Queen, the future Mrs 2nd LT had found making grades in college was a bit of a drag. She did manage to eke out a degree in Art Appreciation. To her credit, she didn't use her political connections to graduate. She was a bit more direct: she fucked half the faculty and staff. The important half. Included in her conquests were the President of the college and the Dean of Women. The President is a fine Southern gentleman, as old as and a close friend of her daddy. He had watched her grown from a baby. He had also carried a secret lech for her since she was twelve. To watch the object of his long affection strip to her waist and fall to her knees between his thighs, wrap her cupid lips around his straining penis and suck the cum from his testicles with her bountiful breasts quivering in his hands was the stuff of his most erotic dreams. He was able to live that dream many times over the four years of her college education. He so enjoyed fondling her firm young breasts as he felt her lips and tongue pulling at his straining erection. The only thing that was a tiny bit bothersome to him was that Miss Sorority Queen definitely did not swallow. She was a spitter. But that was a small price to pay for the exquisite joy she provided. Besides, it proved that she was a Lady. The Dean was and is a rather prim and proper Southern Lady who has a secret lech of her own: young, white girls, each more beautiful than the last. Especially sweet young beautiful blond girls with pointy breasts and tasty pussies. Miss Sorority Queen found that experience particularly enjoyable. While stretched across the Dean's desk with her frilly thong dangling from one ankle and her naked asscheeks clutched firmly in the Deans hands, she made an earth-shaking discovery: a woman knew quite well which buttons to push, and how to push them with her lips, fingers and tongue. She liked the sensation so much that she made a habit of visiting the Dean's office. Frequently. Over the four years of her undergraduate education Miss Sorority Queen was often a welcome guest in the Dean's home. Her bed too. Nice bed. King. Very comfortable. Lots of down pillows to lie back upon. But Miss Sorority Queen was also smart enough to know that daddy would not approve. At all. Certainly there was no future in it. She would never make it to the social or political heights to which she aspired on the arm of another woman. She fully intended to be either Mrs General Officer like her intended mother (whomever she might be), or Mrs Senior Senator like her mother. Preferably both. Besides, though she did love the sensation of a tongue caressing her clit, she also loved the sensation of a man's long, thick cock churning in her juicy little pussy. And the longer and thicker, the better. She had discovered the joys of a big cock while riding cowgirl atop the loins of a studley young black man who helped keep the grounds at the school. One day she met the future 2nd LT at a sorority function, and decided that he was perfect for her long range plans: he was rich. He was handsome. Best of all, he was the eldest son of an established Southern family, with deep roots in the ante bellum South and the US Military. For five generations, back to the Civil War, his antecedents had been General Officers, the last four, Marines. He had connections equal to hers. With those connections, she was certain that she – well they – would make it to the top in record time. The only drawback she could discover, was that his dick was about half the size of her black lover's. She discovered that giving him a hand job on their third date. She waited that long, because she was in the 'hard-to-get' mode. But things got harder after the wedding. The daily life of a Mrs 2nd LT as not at all what she'd pictured it to be. Certainly not the social sense. Nor was it the kind of life to which she was accustomed as Miss Sorority Queen. She was actually expected to do things, instead of having things done for her. Worse, in stead of being the center of attention, she was now a wife, the appendage of a man. He had star billing in the setup. The entire arrangement very much rankled. It is quite a gap between being the wife of a brand spanking new Second Lieutenant and the wife of a brand spanking new Lieutenant General, like her mother. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 09 The gap in the bedroom was even broader. The 2nd LT either A) couldn't find the buttons, B) didn't know that they existed, or C) truly didn't give a shit. Mrs 2nd LT strongly suspected the latter to be the case. He was a good looking young man, from a wealthy and well-connected family, and he too was accustomed to getting his way. He was also quite accustomed to beautiful young ladies giving of themselves without asking for anything in return. Many people dislike most those traits they find in other people which are predominant in themselves. Being spoiled and selfish herself, of course Mrs 2nd LT did not recognize that she and her new husband shared those same attributes. It didn't occur to her to change herself. Not that she tried that hard, but she couldn't change him. It wasn't long before she was looking elsewhere for phat wood and French. One Summer morning not long after their arrival, Mrs 2nd LT went to the Exchange looking for anything she could use to give herself some relief. But much to her immense frustration there's no SKU in the Nexcom inventory for 'Dildo, Large, 9", Vibrating, Black' or even 'White'. Somewhat pissed and preoccupied, she turned around abruptly, and ran right into the arms of something – actually someone – one helluvalot better. Marti was there shopping. She spied and began to follow the gorgeous young lady with the big tits. She had no idea that the cute little ass she was eyeing was attached to the wife of an officer. But she, like the Dean, had a tremendous lech for sexy little blondes too. This particular little blond was wearing a somewhat risqué outfit with white twill cargo shorts that fit her little butt perfectly and a camisole top with flowered trim that left her tanned midriff bare. Best of all, there were no visible pantylines embossing those shorts, so either the woman didn't wear panties, or she preferred V-strings or thongs. Marti was so intent in watching those cute buttcheeks undulate, she was caught by surprise when the blonde turned and collided with her. Marti put her hands out automatically, and they came to rest on the little blondes shoulders, steadying her. Mrs 2nd LT suddenly found herself enfolded in the arms of someone, face-to-face with a broad chest. Actually, face-to-tits, as her cheeks came to rest nestled between two rather large breasts covered with desert camouflage. Startled, she looked up to meet Marti's dark green eyes. She instantly recognized the appetite gleaming there. It matched her own. Marti was lookin' sweet in her cammy's. She was pretty buff, weighing about ten pounds less back then. At 6'2" and 270, she was in great shape. Her shoulders were broad, her waist washboard trim, if not at all slender, and her hips wide enough to match her upper body. Her tits I've described, but she says that at that time, her rack was a little smaller, but stood out more from her chest. She has wide-set melon-shaped breasts capped with areolae about two inches across, and bite-sized nipples. Three years later and maybe a few ounces heavier apiece, her tits sag a tiny bit more, but gravity is what it is, and we all get older. The sessions in the Dean's office came back to Mrs 2nd LT in that instant. Her pussy tingled at the memory of a woman's agile tongue teasing her clit. It was definitely lust at first sight. Here was the solution to Mrs 2nd LT's need: a rather large, buff and somehow attractive woman, obviously a lesbian and probably butch. This woman would surely know where her buttons were. Better yet, she looked like she had the stamina to spend all night pushing them. Mrs 2nd LT was willing to bet her husband's dick that the BAM facing her had a strap-on dildo of the requisite size secreted somewhere, and that she knew how to use it too. Time out. BAM – Broad-Assed Marine. Be careful with this one. Most female Marines do not care for the appellation. Dad tells the story of one relatively tiny female Marine who hopped off her barstool and cold-cocked a 6'2" sailor who used the term in her presence. Time in. The advantages were so apparent, she was shocked that she had not thought of it before: No worries about getting pregnant; no male ego to get in the way. Logistics would be difficult, but not near the problem of hiding a male lover. And best of all, there was no danger of the word getting out. The female Marine had as much – or more – to lose as she if it did. They immediately adjourned to the outdoor grill adjacent to the Exchange where they introduced themselves. Mrs 2nd LT was correct on all counts. There they sat over sodas and discussed possibilities for an hour or so. Before they parted company, they had made a date for the following Saturday morning. The 2nd LT would be out playing golf and shagging balls for his CO. The Colonel had a nasty slice. Time out The 2nd LT eventually got smart: he started carrying a stock of balls of the Colonel's brand in his bag. Thereafter, he almost always managed to find the Colonel's errant shot. Strangely enough the ball was also nearly always in a playable lie. Not surprisingly, the 2nd LT became the Colonel's favorite playing partner. They played golf together frequently. He found room for the 2nd LT on his staff. That pretty much guaranteed the 2nd LT an early promotion. Time in. Marti is no dummy. That the juicy little blond with the high, tight ass and phat tits was an officer's wife made her hesitant, certainly wary. But when she felt the little sandal-clad foot surreptitiously stroking her calf, all doubts went south. Marti's Gunny Puss, like Maxine's Ms Puss, also has a lot in common with Mr Snake. That Saturday morning in the 2nd LT's bed, the two women found a little slice of heaven. Marti did indeed possess a strap-on, and the dildo, though pink, was 10" long. She had other fun toys too. They made good use of the double-ended number she brought along, just for fun. But what really got the lady juicy was when Marti turned Mrs 2nd LT over her knee and playfully smacked that cute little bare ass a few times. Mrs 2nd LT had a hellacious orgasm right there, surprising the bejezuz our of both of them. She liked it so much, it became a regular part of their play. Life was suddenly very good for Mrs 2nd LT. True, She had a few more social obligations than she preferred, and as junior wife, she had to take the Mrs Bird Colonel watch more often than the other wives. Time out. Mrs Bird Colonel tippled. She drank cooking sherry if she couldn't get anything else. One of the junior officer's wives was always detailed to get her home safely from any function. Being the most junior, the duty usually fell to our Mrs 2nd LT. Time in. All in all though, things were definitely sweet. She was finally getting phat sex, though not as much as she would have liked. After all, she still had to satisfy the 2nd LT, which was increasingly more of a drag. Her FM stud had to work and pull duty much too often to suit her. Also the two of them had to be at least a little bit circumspect. After all, familiarity breeds contempt, as the Officer's Manual firmly states. The divide between the commissioned corps and enlisted ranks is vast, and is not to be bridged either lightly or light heartedly. But Mrs 2nd LT was very clever when it came to satisfying her own needs. She volunteered to chair an events committee which would organize various parties and outings for the enlisted ranks and their families. The Commanding General, and therefore, more importantly for her, Mrs Commanding General was very pleased with the idea. That pleased the Bird Colonel and Mrs Bird Colonel, and Lt. Colonel and Mrs Lt. Colonel, and Major and Mrs Major, and Captain and Mrs Captain, and 1st LT and Mrs 1st LT, and it certainly pleased 2nd LT. His wife's proposal made him and Mrs 2nd LT look good to all of the above. The only ones upset were all the other Mrs 2nd LT's of that company. They were jealous that they had not thought of the idea first. So they did the next best thing: they volunteered to become committee members. As chairwoman, Mrs 2nd LT was in the position to delegate. She delegated the hell out of all the real work. The other Mrs 2nd LT's were happy to take the assignments. After all, their names would head the list as the committee member in charge of the Easter Egg Hunt, or the Monthly Birthday Party, or whatever. Then each would get her own little piece of the glory, which made their husbands look good too. Mrs 2nd LT made certain that Marti was a member of her little committee, as the official Enlisted Liaison for the Single Females. Her one job was to post the notice of upcoming events in the enlisted barracks once a month. Mrs 2nd LT's only jobs were to hand out the assignments, bang the gavel and look good. She'd always been extremely talented at the latter. Meanwhile, she and Marti had a legitimate reason for meeting. Often. Marti tanned Mrs 2nd LT's sweet ass at least twice a week. Mrs 2nd LT even learned to lick a little pussy herself after she convinced Marti to trim Gunny Puss. Like me, Mrs 2nd LT was not one for pubic hair stuck in her teeth. The 2nd LT hadn't had a lewinsky since before the wedding, because he refused to even discuss trimming his bushy thatch. The other guys might think him something of a pipesmoker if they caught sight of it in the shower. Though he was sorely tempted to get that haircut when Mrs 2nd LT offered that a trim would make his dick look bigger. But it just didn't fit the manly image he had of himself. Mrs 2nd LT shrugged and flounced back into Marti's strong arms. This went on for nearly a year. There were changes of course: the 2nd LT was slated to become 1st LT ahead of the other 2nd LT's, and Marti was promoted too. A few weeks after her promotion, shortly before the 2nd LT's came through, she and the soon to be anointed Mrs 1st LT celebrated their new status together with a four week vacation in Key West. The 2nd LT had an eight week course to attend before the promotion, so the ladies took advantage of his absence. Marti took leave and Mrs 2nd LT went home to see mama for a couple of weeks. She spent the time visiting with her mother's friends. Most of the time she was thinking about the trip to come. With each passing day, she got more horny. Ostensibly her plan was to visit various friends and former sorority sisters on the return trip. Instead she drove straight from mama's house to Hartsfield-Jackson and hopped a plane to the beach. Marti met her at the security gate. They promptly shucked their inhibitions along with their clothes, and spent nearly a month partying together. Marti had done some digging and called in some favors. Through a friend of a friend of a friend, she found a five room beach-front condominium with a fenced deck, hot tub and daily maid service. The condo also included access privileges at the resort hotel next door. The place cost her a serious chunk of the reenlistment bonus she'd banked, but it was worth it. Of course, Mrs 2nd LT had money of her own too. They split the cost 50/50. Even so, it was expensive but definitely worth the cost. At 23, Mrs 2nd LT looked very tasty in the bright pink bikini Marti chose for her. It was one of those fishnet micro bikinis, and Mrs 2nd LT definitely had the body for it. She spent the entire afternoon of that first day modeling various suits for Marti in a small boutique on Duval street. The two owners, a couple of young ladies who shared a similar relationship to that of our heroines, quite enjoyed assisting Mrs 2nd LT. She quite enjoyed the attention as she pranced in and out of the dressing room. More often than not, she was sans anything but the little panties required when trying on such intimate women's wear. She had to wear those panties, and not just because of the health regulations. That she could be seen by not only other customers, but passersby on the street only made her little pussy more juicy. She could have used a sponge before she was through. With the ladies help, Marti too managed to find herself a suit. A black maillot cut high on her broad hips and low in the back that appeared conservative at first glance. A closer look revealed that the suit had a V-shaped nylon panel that ran from her broad shoulders to her mons. The sheer panel revealed the inside curves of her heavy breasts and her flat belly. The suit displayed her buff body to its best advantage. The two were quite striking together on the beach where they were baking themselves to a golden brown. More than one woman stopped by their lounge chairs to chat. But the two were more interested in partying together than in joining a group. A lot of guys enjoyed the view Mrs 2nd LT presented too. She enjoyed teasing them. More than one thought about getting her alone and peeling that tiny bikini off of her incredible little body, but none approached. One look at Marti, and they all decided that the local ER, though convenient and staffed with highly trained medical personnel, was a terrible place to spend one's vacation. Mrs 2nd LT looked very tasty out of the new bikini too, which is how she spent much of her time. She enjoyed the airy feeling or her new look. It made her feel quite naughty. You see, the micro bikini finally chosen was so tiny that even the little patch of pubic hair decorating her mons curled over the top of the bikini. The high-cut legs of Marti's maillot also displayed too much of her fuzz. So their next stop after the boutique was the salon next door where both women had 'honeymoon' bikini waxes. Mrs 2nd LT wouldn't get her pussy plucked bald unless Marti did too. The procedure made Mrs 2nd LT wet. Marti hated it, lying on her back naked below the waist with her knees pulled up to her chest while a strange woman spread goo on her pussy, then ripped the hair out. She cursed like only a salty sailor or Marine knows how, but beneath her breath. Almost worse was crouching on the table with her ass in the air while the technician spread that goo between her asscheeks and ripped the hair from her crack. But after the ordeal was over, she was amazed how good it looked and felt. And when bedtime came around, Marti was convinced. Mrs 2nd LT was much more enthused about doing her part when they rolled into the 69 position that night. She launched Marti like the Space Shuttle. They both liked it so much, they went back during the third week and had a touchup. Marti still hated it, but liked the result more than she disliked the process. The two of them found everything they needed within walking distance of the condo: the beach, the pool, the bar, the shops, the bed. They ate out most of the time. A car was superfluous. Marti had ridden her Lowrider down Highway 1 through the Keys, but they walked virtually everywhere. They did take one run up to Marathon Key one day for kicks. It took some doing, but Marti finally talked her into taking a ride. It was the black leather pants that did it. Marti bought her a pair at the local motorcycle shop. She felt positively wicked in the tight leather pants, short leather jacket, boots and helmet. Time out. Leathers in Florida? You bet! Marti is of the group who says that the question is not 'if' you dump a bike, it's 'when' you dump a bike. Road rash at 60 mph is severe. Without leathers, it's fifty yards of body wide strawberry jam. Time in. Mrs 2nd LT was not really the Bike Babe type. That is, she was not before the trip, but she hadn't been on the Lowrider for ten minutes before her pussy was wet. Some of the reason Mrs 2nd LT was wet had to do with the fact that Marti only let her wear her underwear beneath the leathers: a pair of black butterfly V-string panties and a demi-bra of sheer black lace. Their suits, slaps, shorts and tops went into the saddlebags. She was so nervous that Marti had to put on the radio headset for her. Mrs 2nd LT was petrified. She straddled the bike and wrapped her arms tightly around Marti's waist, knowing that she was about to die, despite the encouragement Marti whispered in her ear over the link. What would her mother think? She almost cried when the bike slid into gear and they roared off. To her immense surprise, nothing bad happened. In fact, it was rather exhilarating. Soon she relaxed her deathgrip, but still held tight to Marti. Then she noticed something else. The ease with which Marti handled that heavy motorcycle sent chills down her spine, and the big engine rumbling between her thighs seemed wired directly to her clit. By the time they were halfway to Marathon, all that Mrs 2nd LT could think about was getting fucked by Marti. The ride still scared her, but it was a thrilling fright. After a day of walking the shops, lying on the beach and lunch at a little café, they headed back. Mrs 2nd LT strapped on her helmet, wrapped her arms around Marti's waist, and in her most sultry Southern belle voice, drawled, "Take me for a ride you big stud." There was joy and shouting back at the condo that night. Another strange thing happened on that trip. Mrs 2nd LT, the former Miss Sorority Queen, faded a bit. Less the Selfish Bitch, she became more of the Biker Babe. Sweeter somehow. More giving and less demanding. Except in bed. Then she wanted all of Marti's attention. Marti noticed, but didn't say anything. When it's good, leave it alone. And it was real good. While it lasted. But, like all good things, it finally came to an end. Marti's thirty day leave was down to the last few days, and she had solid two-day ride ahead of her. They spent most of their last day together in bed, just enjoying touch and tenderness. The next morning Marti followed the cab to the airport and put Biker Babe back on the plane. Then she cruised the long road back alone. With each passing mile, she missed Biker Babe more. Unbeknownst to Marti, by the time the plane landed in Atlanta, Biker Babe was history. Mrs 2nd LT was back in control. It had been a dream vacation, but that's all it was: a dream. Her long range plans were too important. Biker Babe went into the closet in a box on the back shelf along with the leathers. It was time to get back to the real world. But life has a way of making you pay for the good times. Fate checked her watch, blew her whistle and said "Times up! Everybody, outta the pool!". The freshly promoted 1st LT arrived home within a couple of days after his wife. He'd missed her terribly, especially her pussy. He loved his wife's rich tan and particularly her new bald look. The first night back was great for him: he got his rocks off twice, a record. The experience left Mrs 1st LT aching for something more though. Her husband may have gotten his and more, but she was definitely left hanging. She tried to shrug it off, but it was more difficult than ever. Especially when the memories of those fabulous nights in the condo's big bed came to mind. But the newly minted Mrs 1st LT took firm control, knowing that the next tryst with her stud was only a few days away. 1st LT was scheduled to go on maneuvers for two weeks. He was to put into practice some of that war shit he'd spent the previous two months learning. The rest is history. Mrs 1st LT met Marti at the door in her robe that fateful day. Beneath the robe, she wore a pair of panties. Little panties. She barely got the door closed before she was tearing at Marti's cammys, almost desperate to get her naked and into the bedroom. Shortly thereafter she was on her face moaning with her little bare butt wriggling in the air while Marti's dildo slammed into her juicy puss. Two minutes later, in walked the 1st LT with his arm in a cast. Mrs 1st LT was in the middle of a gorgeous orgasm when she saw his face. She blinked once. Her passionate wail turned into a screech of terror. She shot off the end of Marti's strap-on and raced for the bathroom. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 09 Meanwhile, Marti knelt there gaping. She hadn't seen the 1st LT enter. She was stunned by Mrs 1st LT's abrupt departure. While Marti's back was turned, the 1st LT got one good lick in with that plastic cast. That was a mistake on many levels: First, it's a court martial offense for an officer to strike an enlisted person. Second, Marti is half-again the size of the 1st LT; she could have taken him out permanently with one punch. Third, the cast slipped when it hit Marti's head and the bones separated again. Oucheee! The 1st LT went to the floor, holding his arm screeching, with tears of pain and rage rolling down his cheeks, so it wasn't necessary for Marti to defend herself. Instead It gave her time to get dressed, while he laid there clutching his arm, alternately whimpering in pain and cursing at her. Mrs 1st LT refused to come out of the bathroom. Marti took him back to the hospital to get his cast reset and the knot on her head checked. She drove his car. The ride was not a pleasant one for either. A fourth generation Marine, the 1st LT's daddy was at the time a 3-star General, frocked with his fourth star. Mrs 1st LT's daddy is currently a five-term Senator, a member of the Senate Committee on Armed Services. That's a lot of heavy-weight brass to be lined up against, even for someone Marti's size. Nobody wanted a scandal. So they bought Marti off. Both gentlemen made room in their busy schedules for a hasty trip to the base. There they had a short meeting with the Base Commander, a 2-star and a close friend of the 3-star. There they arranged a medical discharge with 100% disability for Marti. The disabled designation meant that Marti would collect a paycheck from the VA for the rest of her life. The 1st LT and Mrs 1st LT were kept out of it completely. He was given emergency leave to accompany his wife on a trip to visit her ailing mother. Marti wasn't happy about it, but both the Senior Senator and the 3-star General made it very clear. it was either the medical discharge and the disability, or time in the brig and a DD. No matter which option she chose, from that moment she was gone from the Corps. Marti took the medical discharge and the disability, but it hurt. She loved being a Marine. She had also come to love the spoiled little blond too, and it hurt when it ended. A lot. The last Marti had seen of Mrs 1st LT was her little bare ass pumping as she raced for the bathroom the day of the Big Oops. The twinkle was suddenly gone from Marti's dark green eyes. Within two days, Marti was out of the service and gone. No one gave her a send-off or even said goodbye. Questions and/or comments were neither solicited nor encouraged. The word in her unit was that she had been given orders for a special duty assignment, and it's none of your fucking business anyway, get your sorry ass back to work on that engine. Her Colonel handled the paperwork personally, guaranteeing herself her star. It never hurts to have a five-term Senator and a three-star, soon to be four-star General owe you one, particularly when you are a female service member. The 1st LT and Mrs 1st LT left the scene of the crime post haste too. He received orders for Embassy duty in London. It was thought that the change in atmosphere would do both of them some good. London was chosen specifically to appeal to Mrs 1st LT. Marti just got on her bike and rode away. The Marine Corps had been her home. What family she had, she wasn't close to, nor interested in and vice versa. They did not at all approve of her lifestyle. Instead of going back there, she traveled across the country, and eventually fell in with a group of lady bikers on a road trip. There she met Maxine, and ended up coming back here with her. With her experience as a jet engine mechanic, it didn't take Marti long to find a job. She also found a place to live near the beach. Maxine introduced her to the gang. Soon she was settled into a new life. The suddenness of it jarred her at times, but there wasn't much she could do except remember, and that hurt too much. If she cried, it was at night alone where no one could see. Marti somehow never hooked up with another girl. She had lovers. Many. Numerous females of various shapes and sizes shared her bed. But no one special. There was a hole that no one seemed to be able to fill. For kicks, she joined the local chapter of the Dykes on Bykes at Maxine's invitation. They spent a lot of weekends cruising the back roads, and making runs down the coast. She found an old Panhead, took it down to the frame and built it back again with Cora's help. They became good pals along the way. With Maxine along, those three could always find a party. They were the party. Time passed. Early one Spring morning she and the ladies of the club were gathered at a local diner, preparing to take a road trip. Marti was sitting on her Lowrider, tinkering with the engine. She felt the bike shift as someone straddled the seat behind her. Slender arms slipped around her waist taking a deathgrip. A helmeted head lay against her shoulder. Static buzzed in her ear as someone clicked onto her radio frequency. Over the rumble of the Harleys engine she heard an achingly familiar sultry Southern drawl on the link, "Take me for a ride you big stud." Her heart was racing, but without a second's hesitation, Marti gunned the engine, kicked it in gear and led the group out on the road. Explanations could wait. That those slender arms were wrapped tightly around her waist suddenly made the world right again. The hole was filled. Biker Babe was back. It was enough for the moment. Marti and Tiffany have been inseparable since. Time in. We ate first, sitting around Gwendolyn's Dining Room table. Maxine had given Cora and Marti the basics on the trip out, but Gwendolyn and I sketched out the complete plan as we scarfed. Cassandra volunteered to clean up while the rest of us adjourned to the front room to go over the details. Cora wanted to see the downloads, so she and Marti huddled over the laptop cursing at the screen occasionally. Meanwhile the rest of us brain-stormed, trying to poke holes in the plans. Cassandra joined us after finishing in the kitchen. She sat on the floor between my legs. She listened quietly for a while. Then she pointed out a couple of things, and offered a couple of suggestions. That set off more discussion, with suggestions, comments and criticisms from everyone. Even Cora and Marti had a few comments when they finished watching the downloads. Our confidence grew as we talked it over. Everyone recognized that some of what we were planning was illegal, but that danger only added a touch of spice to the operation. (Not that it needed any additional flavoring.) Finally everything was covered. The timetables were set, and everyone knew their roles. The ladies had all arranged to take a couple of days off, so they were free for the next six days. Marti, Cora and Maxine all had commitments starting Monday, but by then their parts would be complete. They did plan to drop by occasionally after work to party. I had the graduation ceremony scheduled for Sunday. But Gwendolyn and Saundra planned to spend the day with the villains in the dungeon. They didn't need me for most of that scene, though I did plan to stop by later that afternoon. Before everyone packed up to leave Maxine, Cora and Marti were given the tour. Marti burst out laughing when she first viewed the layout. But the more she looked around, the quieter and more thoughtful she became. Cora flushed immediately. Her eyes got very big as she examined the shadowed room. This was a whole new world to her. She looked as though she was intent if not eager to explore it. Gwendolyn might soon have another client. Maxine took it all in stride, but even her eyes widened a bit when she looked over the large selection of strap-ons. All three viewed Gwendolyn and Saundra with new respect. The dungeon affected both Cora and Marti in particular. And when they saw that the two Mistresses treated me as an equal in that setting, some of that new respect spilled over to me. Since my rescue of Erin, they had treated me as a friend, but not completely equal. Let's face it: I am younger by a few years, and more importantly to that group, I am a guy. I am also certain that it was an unconscious thing, but real none-the-less. Standing with them in the dungeon I could see a subtle shift in their attitude. They noticed a not-so-subtle change in Cassandra when she went down the stairs. They could see in her eyes memories of time spent in chains there, under the whip. Gwendolyn and I have shared Cassandra together once. Even the memory of it makes Cassandra wet. Standing in the center of the dungeon again, she trembled slightly. I knew that she quivered with both terror and excitement. Cassandra was pumping adrenaline again. It took a lot of her self control not to go to her knees right there. As it was, she fell naturally into the roll of a submissive. It was hard for her not to call me Master. She caught herself a couple of times. She knows that I disapprove of that title unless we're in a scene together. But Gwendolyn and Saundra immediately became "Mistress". Maxine, Cora and Marti all noticed. Cora became pensive. Marti's eyebrows rose, then she too became thoughtful. Maxine just smiled and lightly punched my arm again. Oooowwwch! I knew that'd be black and blue for a week. My sixth sense told me that Cora would become more intimate with the accoutrements of the dungeon in the near future. She spent a lot of time examining the stocks, and her eyes grew haunted when she first saw the cross. Marti too was wavering, though she looked like she couldn't decide which end of the whip she would enjoy more. Maxine just looked eager, like she couldn't wait for the action to start. The villains were in very deep shit. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms 1st LT – acronym for First Lieutenant. 2nd LT – acronym for Second Lieutenant. B&D – Bondage and Discipline; a B&D relationship includes at least one person as a 'top' who enjoys dominating and/or securing (with ropes, chains, leather straps, saran wrap, etc.) and/or using various implements of discipline (whips, canes, belts, paddles, crops etc). The person or persons who enjoy being submissive, secured and disciplined are known as 'bottoms'. Bird Colonel – full Colonel (06) in the USMC, USA and USAF, as opposed to a Lieutenant Colonel (O5); the rank insignia is an eagle (a bird). bisexual – a person who enjoys sexual relations with members of either gender. boink(ing) – to fuck; to have sexual intercourse with; fucking. bottom – (1) buttocks; (2) the passive or submissive partner in a B&D or S&M relationship. brig – a Navy jail; the holding facility aboard a US Navy base or ship used to process and confine those military personnel under arrest. bud(s) – buddy(ies); friend(s); pal(s) bustier – a corset-like, tight-fitting, often strapless top worn as a brassiere or outer garment. butch – a lesbian displaying aggressively male characteristics; see bull dyke; a butch may play the part without necessarily looking the part: she may be the girl next door. camel toe – describes the appearance made by a woman's vulva embossing the crotch of her pants, shorts, panties or the like. The fabric of the garment must be tight, soft and supple to achieve the effect. Soft leather works well. cammys – Camouflage uniform as issued by the various US military branches. Once a jungle green, the standard now is a desert tan pattern. Captain – Commisioned Officer rank (O3) in the USMC, USA and USAF; equivalent to a Lieutenant (USN). CE2 – US Naval enlisted rank: Construction Electrician Second Class Petty Officer (E5), USN. coĵones – testicles. cold cocked – knocked unconscious with a single punch. Colonel – Commisioned Officer rank (O6) in the USMC, USA and USAF; equivalent to a Captain (USN). Commanding General – a General Officer in command of a military unit; as opposed to a General assigned to an administrative position, for example. Corps – the United States Marine Corps. court martial - a court consisting of commissioned officers and in some instances enlisted personnel for the trial of members of the armed forces or others within its jurisdiction. cowgirl – a sexual position with the woman kneeling upright over her partner as though riding a horse. DD – Dishonorable Discharge. Defensive Tackle – a position/player of the defensive squad on an American football team. do / did (her / him) – Have sexual intercourse with; fuck. 'Don't ask; Don't tell' – a policy introduced by the Clinton Administration that directed the Armed Services to cease asking whether or not members of the military were homosexual; military personnel were directed to keep their sexual preferences to themselves; if it became known officially that a member of the military was gay, that person was (and still is) dismissed from the service. Dykes on Bikes – an organization of women who enjoy riding motorcycles, a number of whose members are lesbians; the original chapter was organized in San Fransisco in 1976. ER – Emergency Room. Exchange – a retail store located on a military facility which catersolely to Active Duty Military Personnel; the prices tend to be lower than those in civilian retail stores as the stores are run as non-profit organizations. First Lieutenant – Officer rank (O2) USMC, USA and USAF; equivalent to Lieutenant Junior Grade (USN). FM – Female Marine. French – oral sex, either cunnilingus or felatio. Hartsfield-Jackson – Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. honeymoon wax – to remove pubic hair by covering the groin with a sticky substance then pulling the substance away, thereby plucking the hairs and leaving the groin area completely hairless; the act or result thereof. hook – a golf shot that curves significantly in the direction opposite the dominant hand of the player, e.g. toward the left for a right handed player; usually unintentional; see 'slice'. horizontal bop – sexual intercourse; see 'mattress-dance'. hot – extremely sexually attractive. jarhead - pejorative term for a member of the USMC; often used by members of the Navy, as the Marine Corps is a branch of the Department of the Navy; describes the shape of the subjects head from the rear, as Marine's haircut is 'high and tight' leaving his ears sticking out like the handles of a clay jar. lewinsky – Felatio; the origin is obvious. Lieutenant – USN commissioned officer rank (O3); equal in rank to a Captain USMC, USA or USAF; rank badge is a gold oak leaf plus two ½" gold stripes or bands. Lowrider – a model of a Harley Davidson motorcycle. Lt Colonel – Lieutenant Colonel; Commisioned Officer rank (O5) in the USMC, USA and USAF; equivalent to a Commander (USN). maillot – a women's one-piece bathing suit. Major – Commisioned Officer rank (O4) in the USMC, USA and USAF; equivalent to a Lieutenant Commander (USN). maneuvers – a military training exercise, often live-fire. Master Chief – Master Chief Petty Officer; USN Enlisted rank (E9); the highest enlisted rank in the Navy (also Fleet MCPO or Command MCPO); equivalent to Master Gunnery Sargeant or Sergeant Major (USMC), Sergeant Major or Command Sergeant Major (USA), Chief Master Sergeant or First Sergeant or Command Chief Master Sergeant (USAF); Admirals speak respectfully to Master Chiefs. mons – Mons Veneris or Mons Pubis; New Latin in origin; literally, 'eminence of Venus'; a rounded eminence of fatty tissue upon the pubic symphysis especially of the human female. NEXCOM – Navy Exchange Service Command. Retail stores operated by the USN aboard Navy and Marine Corps bases worldwide. one-star – a Brigadier General (USMC, USA, USAF) or Rear Admiral, Lower Half (USN); the badge of rank is a single star on either shoulder (all services) or coat sleeve (USN). package – the crotch area of a man's pants or slacks and how his genitals appear to fit within the area. Pan Head – a model of Harley Davidson motorcycle so named for the shape of the valve cover was similar to a cooking pan. phat – Fabulous; great; fantastic. phat wood – a large cock, 8" or more in length with at least a 2" breadth, attached to a man who has the strength, skill and staying power to satisfy a woman. pipesmoker – a gay man; a homosexual. posse – a group or gang of friends that hang out together. Que sera, sera – Spanish: 'What will be, will be'; a song made popular by Doris Day in 1956. rocks off (got his) – achieved orgasm. S&M – Sadism & Masochism; an S&M relationship includes at least one person as a 'top' who enjoys inflicting pain – the Sadist – and one person as a 'bottom' – the Mashochist – who enjoys receiving pain. St Andrews Cross – an 'X' made of heavy timbers to which a person is secured by cuffs, chains and/or ropes for the purpose of torture. scarfed – ate informally. SeaBee – Construction Battalian; a branch of the USN detailed with construction of facilities in forward operating areas; most civilian trades are represented in the SeaBees; e.g electricians, carpenters, steelworkers, welders, heavy equipment operators, millwrights, etc. Second Lieutenant – Officer rank (O1) USMC, USA and USAF; equivalent to Ensign (USN); the lowest ranking Commissioned Officer in the Armed Services. sister – Lesbian; a member of a club for lesbians in this tale. SKU – Stock Keeping Unit; the assigned unit of measure for counting and controlling inventory in a retail store. slice – a golf shot that curves significantly in the direction of the dominant hand of the player, e.g. toward the right for a right handed player; usually unintentional; see 'hook'. spitter – the are two completely opposite schools of thought and action in felatio: swallowers and spitters; see 'swallower'. squid – pejorative term for a member of the USN; often used by members of the USMC, as the Marine Corps is a branch of the Department of the Navy. Staff Sergeant – Enlisted rank (E6) USMC and USA; equivalent to First Class Petty Officer (USN) and Technical Sergeant (USAF). strap-on – a dildo with a harness which a woman wears strapped to her groin, which allows her to assume the roll of a man while engaging in sexual intercourse. swallower – the are two completely opposite schools of thought and action in felatio: swallowers and spitters; see 'spitter'. sweet – very good; the best. top – the dominant person in an S&M or B&D relationship; female dominents are often known as 'Mistresses'; male dominants are ofter known as 'Masters'. VA – Veteran's Administration. wax – a procedure for removing hair; a sticky substance is applied to the area of skin to be denuded, then removed, taking the unwanted hair; see 'Honeymoon wax'. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 10 This is the nineteenth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter X Operation Tinkerbelle ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. The first one is always the hardest; that's what they say. In this case, taking down Wendy is going to be major tough – it will have to be done publicly – and relatively easy – Wendy has attitude, but she's no rock. Maybe… They think… James and the gang are hopeful… Oh hell, they don't know. It could get major bloody right out there for everyone to see… But it's the surest and fastest way to get the attention of the real bad guys, Lydia and Marco. So get your worry beads and let's find out… Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ X Operation Tinkerbelle "…As a lady once said, Que sera, sera…" Cassandra and I were finishing breakfast on the terrace of our room when the hotel phone rang. It was precisely 8:30. After the meeting at Gwendolyn's, we had taken a suite at one of the five star hotels downtown. The place was sited a block from the offices of the magazine. No coincidence. For the first time in our relationship, Cassandra and I made long slow love. We took our time, two or three hours anyway. Nothing heavy. No bondage or straps. No one was tied down. Just two people exploring each other's bodies. The first time, she was on top; the second, I was. Then we fell asleep entwined. It was heavenly. My heart jumped, but my hand was steady as I put it on the receiver. I winked at Cassandra. She gave me a brave smile as I answered the third ring. It was Wendy, of course. Her voice quavered a bit as she quietly announced that she was in the lobby as instructed. I invited her up to our rooms, or if she would prefer, we could meet in the hotel café bordering the pool. She was silent for a few seconds. Perhaps she was surprised to be offered the choice. Hesitantly, she said that she would prefer to meet in the café. There was a catch in her voice. She was worried. Good. My eyes twinkled as I handed Cassandra a ten dollar bill. I told Wendy to order coffee for three. We would join her in five minutes. Then replaced the receiver without waiting for her acknowledgement. We had bet on her choice. I'd figured the room, for privacy. Cassandra was adamant that Wendy would feel safer in public. Cassandra and I stood up together. She came into my arms for a kiss, then took my hand and led the way to the elevator. I had the laptop tucked under my arm. We were both dressed casually. She in some of those girl clothes she dislikes so intensely: a dark blue belted mini-dress with a shirt collar and short sleeves. Of soft, stone-washed denim, it had a large chrome zipper with dual slides, running from the neckline to the hem. The dress was zipped down to display more than a hint of her breasts and up from the hem to high thigh. Beneath she wore a sexy little black lace thong, a matching demi-bra, sheer silk thigh-highs and a pair of 'fuck me' sandals with three inch heels. Her dress showed no lines, though her nipples embossed the bodice. I'd picked the outfit. She hated it, so I knew her panties were damp too. With makeup applied sparingly and blond hair brushed out, she looked like a wet dream. I was fashionable in a pair of khaki Dockers, boat shoes with no socks and a crinkle shirt, white with banded collar. The sleeves were rolled to my forearms. I purposely hadn't shaved. With Cassandra on my arm and a day-old beard, I looked a few years older than usual. Certainly much older than the eighteen years that I could rightfully claim. The only sounds were the muted hum of the elevator and, of all things, the muzak version of 'Sympathy for the Devil'. I wondered in passing what Mick would think; then whether it was some kind of omen. A young guy dressed as a 'suit' got on a couple floors down. He pressed the 'Lobby' button as though it was not already lit. Probably a salesman of some sort. His suit was off the rack, but flashy. Cut in the latest style. Powder blue shirt, power tie, the whole bit. A real legend, at least in his own Living Room. He leaned back against the wall and started giving Cassandra the look. He ignored me. I ignored him. But I could tell, Cassandra was pissed. That's one reason she hates wearing 'girl' clothes: she can't stand the looks she gets from guys. You know, the 'Geez she'd look good naked on her knees with my cock in her mouth' looks. Halfway down she began brushing her nipple absently. Just her fingertips. Then she pinched it, making it stand up tall. The guy shifted, as though something was suddenly too tight somewhere in the middle. Cassandra wet her lips slowly, then pinched her other nipple. Hard. It too stood up, embossing the denim of her dress. She brushed her fingertips along her thigh. The guy was going nuts. She absently played with the zipper between her proud breasts, slipping it down a couple of inches, displaying the lacy edge of her bra and the barest hint of her aureole. The guy was almost panting, wholly intent upon her chest. He wasn't prepared and almost fell when the car abruptly slowed at the lobby. Just as the doors were opening, Cassandra turned to him. "Do you like what you see?" She whispered in a sexy purr. He tried to answer, but could only nod, his mouth dry. She lifted her other hand, which was clasped in mine. "Too fucking bad, dipstick." She said in that same sexy voice. "I'm with him…" She kissed the back of my hand. "…and he's got something you will never have... Me." He looked like he'd been hammered. A flush crept down his neck. He started to get pissed. "By the way, Homer." Cassandra murmured as we started through the door. "You better clean up before you make that sales call. You've got a major spot." The flush was full across his face as he looked down. A wet spot about the size of a quarter was centered over the bulge in his slacks, just about where the head of his pecker lay. He jabbed the button to go up again. As the doors closed he finally found his voice. "Fucking bit – " The elevator doors closed on his reply. Cassandra! You go girl! You bad! Still annoyed, she glanced at me. I grinned. "Cassandra," I admonished. "If you didn't want 'dipstick' to look, you shouldn't have worn such a sexy dress." She made a face. I laughed. That encounter certainly put her in the right mood for our tête à tête with little Wendy. We spotted our target at a table along the rail, her back to the pool. She was dressed for work: a business suit of silver herringbone showing plenty of leg; white shell, sheer white stockings and four inch heels with platform soles. The girl either sat most of the time at work, or chose to pay the price for the additional altitude. I was betting the later. At that time of day, the business people were either long gone, or having breakfast meetings inside. A few tourists and/or businessmen's wife types sat taking their morning coffee in the late spring sun, but the poolside café was largely empty. One young mother had two small children splashing in the shallow end of the pool. She may have been their nanny. Nice bikini. No scars on her tanned tummy. Yummy little tits. Wendy's face was pale beneath her tan, her eyes were wide. Frightened. Her gaze slid over us to the lobby door, then centered as we neared her table. She looked puzzled for a moment. We didn't fit her image of the 'bad guys' at all. Wendy had been preparing herself for the Terminator. She'd gotten Chandler and Monica instead. I laid the laptop on the table, then held the chair for Cassandra beside Wendy. I took the seat directly opposite. Wendy was between us. She shifted uncomfortably. As I sat, the waitress appeared with a carafe of coffee and three bone cup and saucer sets. "She will take a half cup please." I said gesturing toward Wendy. "You can fill ours though." Wendy was wound so tight, she'd spill anything over that. The ladies remained silent as she served. I signed the tab with the room number, slipped her a twenty. "That's all thanks." I said politely. "We'll let you know if we need anything more." The twenty disappeared. Still smiling, she nodded then moved away. Good waitress. Nice legs. Very nice butt. Her snug black skirt outlined a high, tight, very pet-able ass. No lines showing. She had her graceful swaying walk down pat. I'd bet the business drones tipped well after seeing it. Time out. I know, I know, but I can't help it: I'm a guy; it's integral to the 'Y' chromosome. 'Dipstick' and I have that in common. Except I usually don't let it show on my face. Time in. I sipped mine – light cream (fresh), no sugar; Blue Mountain, very good coffee – as I looked over the rim at Wendy. Her eyes were very wide. Her face was very pale beneath her tan. She was taut, near breaking. This would either be very easy, or it would burst in our faces. If that happened, things could get bloody in a hurry. It was time to calm her down. Then we would make her sweat again. "This is Cassandra. My name is James." Isaid in a friendly, encouraging voice as I reached out to shake her hand. Wendy looked at it for a few seconds as if it was a snake poised to strike, then took it. Her palm was damp. We shook, once quickly; me firmly, she weakly. She had yet to say a word. When I released her hand, she snatched it back to take a deathgrip on the cloth napkin in her lap. Cassandra sat back glowering with her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Wendy took one look out of the corner of her eyes, and decided not to make the attempt. Wise of her. "Thank you for being on time, Wendy." I said politely. "We very much appreciate your assistance this morning." I took another sip of coffee, waiting for a reaction. She managed to take a sip of hers without spilling it. The cup rattled against the saucer when she set it down. She just looked at me, waiting. Okay, to business. "Just so you fully understand," I said in the same calm voice. "We are shutting down the entire operation. As of this moment, it is over. Gone. Toast. We know about the cocaine. We know about the parties. We know about Summer May Mathews…" Wendy started at the name. The whites of her eyes flashed. "… We know things that you don't know, things that Marco and Lydia have done, and other things they're planning. There are no secrets anymore. We are shutting it all down. Period." Wendy began nodding as I ticked off the points, following the rhythm of my voice. She was agreeing with me. Maybe unconsciously, but she was agreeing. I smiled at her and poured a bit more coffee in her cup, then filled mine and added cream. Cassandra hadn't touched hers. I looked at Wendy again. She was relaxing a bit. This was much more calm and civilized than the scene she had been expecting. It was time to shake her up. "We have no real interest in hurting you." I continued confidingly. "If you choose – you choose – we will go with you to the police where you will confess to smuggling drugs, and explain your part in the rape and accidental overdose of Summer May Mathews." Wendy was looking real nervous again. That napkin would never be the same. "If you turn state's evidence," I mused. "you will probably get off lightly. Maybe two or three years in prison. Maybe less. Of course, your accomplices…" '…and their suppliers, the heavies down south…' Cassandra added ominously. "…will be pissed, and maybe…" '…definitely…' "…out for…" '…out for your cute little ass sweetmeat!…' "…But them's the breaks…" '…when you play with the big boys!' Cassandra finished hissing, her eyes hard. Wendy's head was whipping back and forth as we talked. She started to look hopeful until I got to the part about jail time. Then that haunted look appeared again. Cassandra's asides caused her lips to begin quivering. The cloth napkin was twisting her hands, threatening to shred. Before the tears gathering in Wendy's eyes could fall, I added the big Or. "Or…" I added reasonably. "…you can assist us in punishing your accomplices…" '…Your boyfriend Marco and that slut Lydia. What is it you call her? 'Fat Ass'? I bet she'd love to hear that tape...' "…that way, nobody goes to jail. Nobody gets hurt…" '…not permanently anyway: nobody goes to prison. Nobody dies!…' "…instead, we'll handle the punishment in our own way." Almost dizzy from trying to follow our whipsaw conversation, Wendy tried to take a sip of coffee. She was trembling so severely, the cup clattered on the saucer. She did begin to look a tiny bit hopeful again, as though maybe she could get out of the whole mess with her 'cute little ass' intact. Cassandra took up the conversation directly. "Listen Tinkerbelle," she said sarcastically. "Don't get cocky. Your ass isn't covered just yet. You've got at least a taste of it coming, and I'm going to make certain you get it. Summer deserves that much at least." "Be thankful you won't, say spend the next few weeks in a coma, or have to live with the memory of a brutal rape. You may not get it quite as hard as those other two assholes…" Cassandra pointed to me. "…James here will protect you from that. But that 'cute little ass' of yours is going to feel something before it's over! I'll make certain of that." Cassandra dismissively. "And If you help us take out Marco and Lydia, at least you won't be sharing a cell for a few years with Big Beullah and her trusty sidekick, Strap-On." That spooked look was back on Wendy's again. That Cassandra was acting the heavy rather than me, was her idea. She was right. Wendy had expected the opposite. I was the man, Cassandra the woman. In her world, the guys were the heavys. The women were the sympathizers; the empathizers; the victims. We had her twirling in her seat. Cassandra held her palm out to Wendy. She looked puzzled for a moment, then jumped for her purse and furtively slipped the disc and note I'd sent her into Cassandra's hand. She loaded the disc into the drive, put the cursor on the icon, then turned the screen to face Wendy. Her finger was poised on the mouse key. "Watch this one more time." Cassandra told her. "You've got until the end of it to decide. Either you help us, or we put your ass in jail and do it ourselves. Then I wouldn't feel bad at all putting the word on the street that you gave it up. That way everyone is after that 'cute little ass': the two assholes, the heavies down south and the cops. Jesus, the big girls in the cell blocks are going to have a field day with you." Then Cassandra stabbed the scroll pad and sat back. Her eyes were glittering. Her smile cold. Wendy trembled, on the verge of complete collapse. She shivered through the entire presentation. It took about five minutes to run. I doubt that she grasped five seconds of it. We could see the wheel spinning in her head. Mostly the answer came up 'Double Aught, You Lose'. Her eyes were brimming when the screen blanked. She finally looked up to us, but couldn't speak. Her coffee was cold. Cassandra and I had finished ours. Chandler was still there, but Monica had morphed into Terminator TX. I almost felt sorry for the little twit. But my sympathies rested firmly with Summer May Mathews. We looked her over for a moment, waiting, then I spoke. "One very good thing comes out of this for you Wendy." I said gently. "We get you out of the middle of the drug operation. Whether you get it or not, you're vulnerable." Wendy looked puzzled. "You are the cutout between Marco and the girls transporting the shit. If a girl gets busted…" '…when a girl gets busted – it's gonna happen sooner or later…' "…and you are suddenly 'gone', there's no link to Marco is there?…" I let the question hang. We could tell that Wendy hadn't thought that one through. She looked more startled than spooked. Then she looked just plain spooked. She knew Marco. Cassandra gave Wendy a withering look. "Make your choice Tinkerbelle, which is it to be: A) go to the cops, or B) help us take Marco and Lydia down. You're out of time, choose!" It's the first time I've actually heard a person gulp. I mean, you see it on the cartoons, or read it in the comics. But to hear it almost made me laugh. Almost. I kept a straight face and poured more coffee for Cassandra and I as Wendy chose. "I – I'll help y-you." She stuttered in a hoarse whisper. I was proud of myself. I didn't spill a drop. My hand was steady as I set the carafe on the table. Operation Tinkerbelle looked to be a success. One down. Cassandra nodded once dismissively, as though she had expected that answer. She gave Wendy a brief look, then went through the checklist we'd prepared:  Did you tell people at work that you were sick as instructed? – Y-yes  Do you need a doctor's note, or any proof that you've been ill when you return to work? – N-no, Mrs Hart is going out of town for t-ten days. She told me to take the rest of the week off. No one else c-cares.  Do you have any appointments, or are you expected to be anywhere or see anyone tonight? – No. I had a d-date, but I c-cancelled…  Did you tell anyone you were meeting us this morning? – No! God no! You told me not to, or I'd go to j-jail!  Did you show or did anyone else see the contents of this disc? – No way! A-after I read the l-letter. I played the disc, then came straight here. I'm obviously s-stupid, but I'm not crazy!  So neither Lydia, nor Marco have any idea that this disc exists? – God no! Do ya think I'd be here if they did?  Do you have a roommate or anyone at home who will be looking for you? – N-no. I have my own apartment.  Did you drive to the meeting as instructed? – Y-yes, I used the valet p-parking service.  Do you have pets? – No. (The question puzzled Wendy, but we didn't want her cat to go hungry. She had no idea, but she'd be away for at least a week, maybe two.)  Do you wish to accompany us? – Y-yes? Wendy was very puzzled by that one too, but it might be the question necessary to save us from a Kidnapping charge. That's Federal, as in, the FBI comes after your ass. No thanks! Cassandra looked stared into Wendy's eyes for a moment longer, then looked to me and nodded reluctantly. We knew that Wendy would be missed after a couple of days, but once we had her secure, we planned to either have her call, or call the magazine on her behalf to say that she would be out for a couple of weeks due to a family emergency. Wendy sat trembling for a minute, then asked a few questions of her own. Just what you'd expect, like "Who are you? How did you know? Where'd you get the stuff on that disc?" I sipped my coffee silently, measuring Wendy over the cup for a few seconds, then put the cup down. "Wendy, all you have to know right now is that I am your best friend in the world. Just follow my instructions, and I promise that you will come out of this mess with – how did Cassandra put it? – with your 'cute little ass' intact." I took a sip of coffee while she assimilated that, then continued. "As Cassandra said, I'll protect you. You won't be permanently damaged in any way. She was frightened half-way out of her mind at that point. To calm her a bit, at least until we could get her to a more private place I reassured her. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 10 "I'll let you know just this much more: I am a very good friend of Missy Hart. Neither she, nor her mother know anything about this. I would prefer it to remain that way. If the police are involved, some of your companion's activities might prove embarrassing to your boss in particular, and therefore her daughter. I want to avoid that if possible." Wendy's disc included only selected cuts from two of the four trysts with Marco: hers and Lydias. The rest of it was not her business. That I said that I knew the Hart's didn't completely reassure her, but hearing familiar names did calm her down. I told her that she was free to walk away at any time. We were leaving, if she wanted to accompany us, she was free to do so. That calmed her more. As I pulled the disc, and shut down the laptop, Cassandra told her that she hoped Wendy would walk away. She'd love to see her go to jail for a few years for what she'd done to Summer. Cassandra was scaring the shit out of her again. An hour later, I think Wendy wished she had chosen the second option. Before the day was over, I was certain of it. When we stood up to leave, Wendy practically jumped out of her chair. She stayed as close to me and as far away from Cassandra as possible. I reached down and held her hand as we walked through the doors. She grabbed onto it as though it was a lifeline. Her hand was still clammy. I tucked it under my arm. I had her stand with Cassandra near the door while I checked out, but took her arm again as we left the hotel. Wendy held on to me as if I was her savior. It couldn't have gone any better. I gave the claim checks to the valet and we put Wendy in my car. Cassandra would follow in her Range Rover, checking for tails. Wendy's BMW would stay put. We'd collect it later. Couldn't be too careful about tracking devices. Time out. Paranoid? Who me? Time in. If anyone was following us, her or she was good. Neither Cassandra nor I caught a whiff, though we did some back tracking just to make certain. Before we left town, I gave Wendy a pair of wraparound sunglasses. The lenses inside were opaqued with fingernail polish. There was no need for her to know where we were going. The day was sunny, the top was down. If other drivers were to notice, they saw a pretty young lady wearing sunglasses against the glare as we motored down the road. The sunglasses only came off when Wendy was ensconced on a plain metal chair in one of Gwendolyn's dungeon cells. By that time, she was scared shitless again. She blinked once and found me standing before her. She turned to find Cassandra behind, holding the sunglasses. Going in, Wendy thought dealing with Cassandra would be the worst of it. Poor baby. She had no idea. Maxine loomed over my shoulder with the door behind. Cora stood propped against one wall, Marti stood with hands on hips by the other. Gwendolyn's cells are small. Those three made Wendy's cell tiny. None of the ladies spoke. They didn't need to. Their bulk spoke for them. The looks they gave Wendy were enough to make her cringe. She whimpered as tears began leaking. Cassandra leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Bad news sweetheart: I'm the nicest one of this bunch." She said softly. "Worse news: these three can't wait to get their hands on you. They will when – not if, but when – you fuck up. I know you will. Worst news: well, you're about to meet the worst news. In fact, your worst nightmare. Remember playing at being the Dom at those sex parties? There are a couple of ladies coming that are going to make your act look like a game of little girl dress-up in comparison. And they won't be looking to play a game of patty-cake, unless it's with a whip on your ass." Wendy was sobbing at that point, begging to go home. We let her stew for a few moments, then I knelt down and took her hand. She looked at me as if to plead to get her out of there. I shook my head. "No Wendy. Not yet. First you're going to find out how bad this is going to get." I said stroking her hand. "Then, you're going to tell us everything you know about your little scheme. We're particularly interested in the codes you use with your partners. If you don't want to go through this by yourself, you will help us get those two here. Once that's done, we'll lighten up on you." "Jesus God!" She burst out. "Please! I'll tell you anything you want to know now. Don't let them hurt me!…" "No one is gonna hurt ya girlfriend." Maxine interrupted. "We just wanna play with you a little bit. That's a sweet little set of boobs ya got there baby. 'Bet your little pussy is just as sweet, and I've gotta strap-on just the right size for it…" "Yeah." Cora enthused. "I'm a sucker for fresh pussy. Particularly fresh pussy in pint-sized packages. I'll be nice to you if you're nice to me…" "We've seen the tapes of you in action." This from Marti. "We know that you swing with girls. But it's about time to find out if you like eating pussy as much as you like to have yours eaten…" Wendy moaned. She was shaking so badly, she almost fell off the chair. Her hand tightened around my fingers, squeezing her lifeline to the point of pain. At that moment, the door opened. In walked Gwendolyn and Saundra, dressed in full regalia. Red on black and black on red, just like at the Halloween party. Only this was for real. Certainly Cora, Marti and particularly Maxine were intimidating, but Saundra and Gwendolyn were in their element. Those two were positively scary. Time out. If you've seen a true dominatrix in real life, you know what I mean when I say scary. If you haven't, there's no way to describe either her appearance, or the effect she has on the people present. I've seen strong, confident men cringe at a true dom's mere glance. That day neither Gwendolyn nor Saundra was playing a role: they were harsh discipline and total domination personified. Tight corsettes, thigh-high black leather boots and that blank imperious look that hides everything, particularly any evidence of the softer emotions. Time in. I thought for a moment that Wendy was going to faint. She wobbled on her chair. Marti and Cora stepped back beside Maxine. The Gwendolyn and Saundra stationed themselves on either side of me, looking down on Wendy with dead eyes. Saundra held a limber crop in her hands, flexing it as she looked down on a fresh target. I patted Wendy's hand. Her wide-eyed gaze turned back to me. Her face was grey with fright. "I'll leave you with the ladies for a while. They'll take care of you." I said confidently. "We'll talk again soon." Wendy gripped my hand with hers. "Oh please! Please! Don't leave me alone with them!" She whimpered. "I'll tell you anything you want to know… I'll help any way I can… P-please!" She was sobbing again, the words tumbling out. "Please d-don't go away!… D-don't leave me with them…" Cassandra put her hands on Wendy's shoulders to hold her in the chair, otherwise I think she would have slipped to her knees. I patted her hand again, then rose from my crouch. "Just follow their instructions. Do exactly what they tell you." I said. "When their satisfied that you will follow all of their directions without question, they'll call me back. Until then, I'll leave you in their charge." I slipped my hand from hers, and trailed Maxine, Marti and Cora through the door. Wendy's dry cleaners had a suit coming. She had processed her morning coffee rather quickly. The acrid odor of fresh urine wafted out behind me. "You stupid little twit! You're going to – " Saundra began as the closing door cut off her voice. The four of us exchanged glances. Surprisingly, Cora appeared to be the most certain of our mission, and Marti, the most doubtful. Then again, Marti does have a soft spot. They both looked a little bit spooked too. I think I said that Cora's most prized attribute was loyalty to her friends. She also prized loyalty from her friends. She didn't know Summer, but she abhorred betrayal and despised the betrayer. Wendy had betrayed Summer. Worse, she had betrayed Summer to a man. Deep down, as far as Cora was concerned Wendy was toast. Marti looked grim, but held on. Maxine was blank. It was a job. It had to be done. If she had demons, they weren't on display. While we waited, the ladies and I had had more coffee over fruit and pastries that Saundra had been kind enough to provide. We didn't' talk much. Cora and Marti watched TV. Maxine and I read magazines. It was a waiting game at that point. We could only let the time pass. About twenty minutes later, Cassandra appeared to call me back. Wendy's clothes had been stripped away. Her suit, blouse, underwear and pantyhose were hung on a rack near the toilet to dry. Her shoes lay beside. The smell was gone, so I assumed that Cassandra had rinsed the clothes. Wendy had been forced to clean the chair and the floor. She was still on her knees in the cell, a rag and a pail beside. The scent of pine disinfectant permeated the room. Wendy was kneeling upright on the stone floor. Her arms were clasped behind her neck. Her long blond hair had been wrapped in a loose chignon, but up off the nape of her slender neck. Her hairdo leant emphasis to the thick leather collar locked there. Her breasts were cradled in a tight half-cup bra of supple black leather. The pink nipples were bursting from her bare breasts. Below, she wore a tight leather thong. Black, the soft leather was embossed with the puffy lips of her pussy. Definite camel toe showing. A rose tattoo perched on the curve of her pelvis. How original. Nice needlework though. The tattoo had come with Wendy. Everything else was fresh from Gwendolyn's costume racks. At some point in her previous life, Wendy had had a bikini shave, but she needed another. Blond curls sprouted over the top of the panties. The hairs around her puss were at least a ½" long. We'd introduce her to 'honeymoon' waxing later. Her eyes were red. Tear tracks lined her cheeks. She had been crying, but was silent now. I walked around her quivering body once before settling in my chair. Wendy's gaze rested on the floor at my feet. Three stark, whip-thin red stripes decorated her white asscheeks. Otherwise, there was no evidence of the abuse she'd undoubtedly received. Cassandra was dressed down to her thong. She knelt to the floor on a small mat at Gwendolyn's feet. Gwendolyn had a chair of her own, while Saundra stood behind with one hand resting on Gwendolyn's shoulder. She held the crop in the other. I think the sight of Terminator TX submitting to the ladies had as much of an impact on Wendy as anything. "How are you doing Wendy?" I asked gently. "I can see the ladies have transformed you a bit. Are you ready to assist us now?" "Yes s- M-master." Wendy whispered, stumbling over the unfamiliar title. I looked up to Gwendolyn, somewhat surprised, she winked briefly, just a quick dip of her eyelid. Saundra's lips twitched, not quite reaching a smile. Wendy noticed neither. She was concentrating on my shoes. I turned back to Wendy and reached out to cup her chin. She looked up to me, glancing at the other three fearfully before settling on my face. That look of pleading was back in her eyes. "We'll discuss your ownership later. Now tell us everything you know about the operation." I said caressing her cheek. "We're most interested in knowing what emergency signals you have. It's vital that we get Marco and Lydia here as quickly as possible. If they're warned, they'll disappear and leave you to take the consequences by yourself. You don't want to face that alone, I'm sure. What you've experienced to this point is nothing – less than nothing – compared to what you'll face if those two get away." A shudder ran through Wendy's body. Then she told all. It took about ten minutes to get it all out. By that time, she was so eager to tell all, she was babbling, repeating herself. Most of it we knew already, but confirmation from the inside is always good. I caressed Wendy's cheek again. Her voice trailed off. Gwendolyn rose silently from her chair. She and Saundra gave Wendy a final look of warning, then went through the door strutting as only an accomplished Mistress can. "Cassandra is going to stay here with you for a bit." I told Wendy. "She'll bring you some food and water. You eat while we get the pieces in place. Then I'll be back, and we'll make the calls together. Okay?" Wendy nodded vigorously. I smiled, but the smile didn't reach my eyes. I gave her my best 'dead' look. Chandler had become the Terminator after all. "You've done well so far Wendy. Don't fuck up." was all I said. She shuddered again. I patted her cheek, gave her a smile and left her to Cassandra. The door latched behind me. I asked Cora to take some fruit, a couple of pastries and some water down to the cell. The rest of us gathered for a quick conference. For a bunch of amateurs, we were doing well so far. Operation Tinkerbelle was a complete success. But now came the dicey part. The good news was that the emergency meeting place was at Lydia's lake house, which was not far from Gwendolyn's place. The bad news was that we had no knowledge of her security system. Cora came back, listened for a moment then suggested that she could cut the power and the phone lines easily once the bad guys were inside. We all agreed to that. They'd undoubtably have cell phones – who doesn't these days – but the house security system, if it existed, had to run through the telephone line. Then I said that the next step was mine. I'd go to the door with my trusty laptop in hand. We'd improvise from there. If worst came to worst, we'd call in the cops. Everyone nodded. I knew that I could take out either of those two. I could probably take out both of them together. Unless, that is, either had a gun. Then I'd surrender and wait for the cavalry. If I wasn't out within fifteen minutes, the cops would be called in. No questions. No hesitation. Just do it. Again everyone agreed. Even if the two villains had reinforcements handy, we didn't think they could get there in a quarter hour. Lydia's place is remote. There was the possibility that they had more players in the wings about which we knew nothing. But we had no indication of such, and I felt that Lydia's first priority was information: she needed to isolate Wendy and wring her dry before deciding a course of action. The less bodies around when she did that, the better. She could always call more people in, if needed. I was betting that she felt she and Marco could handle Tinkerbelle without additonal help. The least likely possibility was that the local authorites were in with the bad guys. We covered that by arranging a link with, Gwendolyn. Marti would keep her on her cell phone. If anything went south, Gwendolyn was to call 911 and get everyone involved: the state cops, the Sheriff's office, the fire department, everyone; turn it into a circus. Maxine's cell phone was to remain clear for me in case I needed to contact her. We went through everything again. The ladies and I were more confident than ever. Optimism was in the air. Even Marti was fully back on board. She hadn't liked tormenting Wendy, but punishing Lydia and particularly Marco had great appeal for her. That had great appeal for all of us. Marti's eyes were gleaming at the thought of getting Marco in a helpless position. I had thought that I'd have to keep an eye on Cora. But Marti was rapidly becoming my biggest concern. She really was capable of hurting that guy seriously if we weren't careful. I think maybe it had to do with Wendy. If it hadn't been for Marco, Wendy wouldn't have gotten involved in drug smuggling and rape and whatever. Oh, knowing Marti, really hurting Marco would haunt her later. But I that wouldn't help in reattaching his nuts. There's not enough surgical glue in the world for that operation. We all stood up at the same time. Everyone gave each other a hug. Then I took myself and my cell phone down to the dungeon. It was time to make the calls. Maxine, Marti and Cora got a head start toward Lydia's hideaway. After a few loving taps from Saundra's crop, Wendy had drawn a detailed map. We wanted to be on hand when the bad guys arrived. Meanwhile, Cora could scope out the electrical lines and telephone connections. The haunted look was back in Wendy's eyes when I entered the cell. She sprang up to her knees again with her hands tucked behind her head. No question, she was learning the positions of a submissive quickly. Almost too quickly. She gave me that same fearful look that had been reserved for the ladies. Her breasts were quivering, nipples crinkled to little pink pebbles. Wendy was frightened. Nice little titties. I asked her what was on her mind. She glanced at Cassandra, shivering. Cassandra simply turned to display her bottom. I don't know how Wendy had missed it before, but between my visits she'd focused on the brand scar gracing Cassandra's bare derrière. I was betting that Cassandra had pointed it out. It was time to scare the shit out of Wendy again. My turn. I sat in the chair and drew Cassandra to me. She knelt gracefully to the floor between my legs, staring at Wendy. I cupped one breast and tweaked the nipple to ripeness. The silver ring flashed in the light. I turned her body to display her ass and the scar of the brand. "These are my initials." I confirmed. "Cassandra is mine. She is submissive to me. I am her Master. She has tasted my whip, she wears my brand. I did it. I tied her down. I fucked her. Hard. Fast. Brutal. Then I seared my initials into her ass with a hot iron. I own her. She is mine to do with as I please. She has no choice but to obey me." I caressed Cassandra's face as I spoke. She turned to kiss my wrist. Her eyes closed and a shudder ran through her as I claimed her. Her nipples were stones jutting from her breasts. Cassandra suddenly was on the verge of orgasm. Her inner thighs were damp. Glistening. Wendy could see that. I could see that Wendy was suddenly wondering what in hell she had gotten herself into. "I have great affection for my submissives." I continued. "I know what they need. I am strong enough to care for them, to discipline them. Cassandra is mine until I tire of her. Then I will give her away. She knows that. She prays daily that it will never happen. It will. I just haven't yet decided when." Cassandra was quivering with excitement and sudden terror. But her scent was in the air. Wendy couldn't miss it. We were getting distracted. It was time to make the calls. My words did have the benefit of concentrating Wendy's attention on the task at hand. If I was the 'good guy' in her mind – her lifeline – and I had taken a red hot branding iron to a woman's naked ass, the 'bad guys' weren't nearly as scary anymore. She'd help take them down in a New York Minute. I handed Wendy the phone. Our hands touched briefly. She jumped, as though she'd received a shock. I looked her in the eye and warned her. "Don't fail me." I whispered. She trembled as she punched up Lydia's number. She gathered herself at the last moment, determined to do her part well. She had no desire to face the group – to face my wrath – alone. Failure was not an option. Her voice had just the right touch of panic. Apparently Lydia was at her desk just getting ready to leave for lunch. Wendy gave her the code that meant there was a problem with one of the mules. The girl hadn't made the drop, and no one had heard from her since she'd picked up the merchandise. She'd either taken off, or she'd been caught. It was imperative that they meet as soon as possible. She'd called Lydia first, but she had to get a hold of Marco too. It turned out that Marco was on his way to her office. He and Lydia had ostensibly planned to lunch together. I thought it more likely they'd planned a nooner at the townhouse. Lydia asked where Wendy was calling from. Wendy answered that she was on her way home, but would meet them anywhere. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 10 I could almost hear the gears turning in Lydia's head. The least that has to be done is to isolate Wendy. Immediately, if not sooner. She's the link from the mule to Marco and me. Lydia suggested that they all meet at her place in the country, where they could make a plan. Wendy readily agreed. She sounded frightened and confused. Perfect for our purposes. Lydia told her to calm down and get to the lake house as soon as she could. Then she broke the connection abruptly. No polite 'ta-ta's' from that bitch. Wendy looked relieved, but I told her to call Marco immediately. We couldn't trust Lydia to tell him. Besides, Marco, as dumb as he was, had been smart enough to tell her repeatedly that she was to call him any time there was an emergency. He didn't trust Lydia either. It would be out of character if Wendy didn't call. Wendy punched up Marco's number and gave him the same emergency code. Marco was just getting out of his car. Wendy told him that she'd spoken to Lydia, and that they were to meet at her place. Marco was instantly agitated, but told Wendy that she'd done the right thing by calling him. He'd get with Lydia and they'd meet her within the hour. She told him to hurry. She needed to know what to say if 'John Lawson' called. That rocked Marco. I could almost hear the gears turning in his mind too. He told her again to calm down, that there wouldn't be anyone calling. He'd fix everything. Then he too broke the connection abruptly. None was dumb enough to use plain language when talking on their cell phones. It had all been in code, including the reference to the police. Marco and Lydia had the word that something was wrong, but they needed more information before they could act. Their best option was to get Wendy alone and get that information. Then they could decide what to do. Including what to do with Wendy. I think she realized the latter when she closed the cell phone. She looked at Cassandra and I. The danger she'd been in came to her face. After helping Marco with Summer, she knew he was capable of doing almost anything to protect himself. Lydia had as much or more to lose. There are lots a deep woods around Lydia's house. The ground is soft. Holes are easy to dig along the lake. "Jesus!" She whispered as I took the phone from her hand. "Jesus! They'd just whack me, wouldn't they. Jesus!" I nodded, then turned to Cassandra. "She's yours. Keep her isolated here. I want her secure. You know what I mean. Keep her safe, isolated, unharmed." I repeated. I hesitated for a moment, then added as an afterthought. "Oh, you may as well perform that procedure we discussed. Let's get that out of the way. It's time she had a booster. And give her a cot and a blanket too. She's earned that much." Cassandra nodded. By the time we got back, Wendy would have discovered the joys of that "honeymoon" waxing we'd planned. She was to be waxed, bathed, blindfolded and chained to the wall in her cell to await further punishment. Depending on how things went, she'd either be given a reward of sorts, or spend the weekend in pain. In either case, she was going to find out what it was like to truly service others. I stood up before Wendy. She was still on her knees with her hands now limp at her sides. I cupped her chin. She looked up to me. Tears were sparkling, but she had that look. She wasn't totally comfortable with it yet, but she had that passive look that all of the most dedicated submissives get around their Masters or Mistresses. "You just keep doing what you're told to do Wendy. You'll be fine. Otherwise I'll hear about it from Cassandra. You do not want to piss me off. Are we clear?" She swallowed then whispered, "Yes Sir. I will obey." Surprisingly, Wendy appeared more calm at that moment than any time since we'd met her that morning. It was as though she had given up and left her fate in my hands. Most of her fear was gone. Certainly there was no sign of the abject terror she had evidenced earlier. I glanced at Cassandra. She'd seen it too. Her lips twitched into a smile that was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Shock piled upon shock. Wendy was more submissive than I'd have believed possible a few hours before. Whether she realized it or not was questionable, but she'd come to see me as her protector. Her Master. It was almost hilarious. She knew that I planned to punish her further, but she was ready to accept my discipline. Ready, hell she was almost eager. People are definitely strange. I shook my head slowly as I went out the door. This time, I left it unlatched. Cassandra was already on her feet beside Wendy, attaching a leash to her collar. Wendy was about to experience the world of complete submission. I hoped she'd get some pleasure from it. It didn't at all appeal to me, but what do I know. I guess some people just need to have someone else in charge. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms ball-gag – a rubber or plastic ball larger enough to fit a person's mouth, with straps and buckles to secured it to that person's head. Beamer (or Beemer) – the acronym for a motorcycle manufactured by the Barvarian Motor Works; see 'Bimmer'; see 'BMW'. Beretta .22 – a 22 caliber firearm (pistol) made in Italy. Bimmer – the acronym for a car manufactured by the Barvarian Motor Works; see 'Beamer'; see 'BMW'. Blue Mountain – premium coffe grown only on four estates in the Blue Mountain area of Jamaica. BMW – a car manufactured by the Barvarian Motor Works; see 'Bimmer'; see 'Beamer'. camel toe – describes the appearance made by a woman's vulva embossing the crotch of her pants, shorts, panties or the like. The fabric of the garment must be tight, soft and supple to achieve the effect. Soft leather works well. Chandler and Monica – as in 'Friends'. derrière – French; literally 'behind'; butt; ass; rear end; bottom. dipstick – moron; asshole; less than perfect specimen of the human male. Double Aught – a standard roulette wheel has 36 numbers plus 0 and 00 (double aught). Those two extra numbers increase the odds against you and for the house. dweeb – sorry specimen of masculine humanity; a jerk. girl clothes – feminine clothing; dresses, skirts, shoes, etc. of feminine cut and styling; as opposed to pants, shirts, shoes, etc. of masculine cut and styling. hogtie – to truss one's arms and legs together behind their back so that the arms are pulled down and the legs are folded up. Homer – Idiot; moron; hopelessly inane and stupid person; from the character Homer Simpson of the animated television series, 'The Simpsons'. homie(s) or homey – homeboy(s); friend(s). honeymoon wax – to remove pubic hair by covering the groin with a sticky substance then pulling the substance away, thereby plucking the hairs and leaving the groin area completely hairless; the act or result thereof. hottie – one who is extremely sexually attractive; see 'legend'. jpegs - Joint Photographic Experts Group (also abbreviated jpg) and pronounced jay-peg. JPEG is compression technique for colour images and photographs that balances compression against loss of detail in the image. The greater the compression, the more information is lost (this is called Lossy compression). legend – a sexually attractive person; see 'hottie'. Master – a male who is dominant in a dominant/submissive relationship; see 'Mistress'. mpeg - Moving Picture Experts Group (also abbreviated mpg) and pronounced em-peg. MPEG is the name of a family of standards used for coding audio-visual information (e.g. movies, video, music) in a digital compressed format. mule – when smuggling drugs, the principals often use others to transport the substance, particularly through Customs, thereby keeping themselves away from the danger of arrest; those actually transporting the substance are known as 'mules'. New York Minute – quickly; almost immediately; note: everything, in New York City runs on a faster pace (believe it, if you've been there, you know what I mean). nooner – a sexual liaision during the day, often illicit or when the parties involved are ostensibly otherwise engaged. putz – Yiddish for 'penis' or 'dick'. Que sera, sera – Spanish: 'What will be, will be'; a song made popular by Doris Day in 1956. sidekick – loyal subordinate associate or partner. strap-on – a dildo with a harness which a woman wears strapped to her groin, which allows her to assume the roll of a man while engaging in sexual intercourse. sub – see 'submissive'. submissive – a person who attains sexual gratification by submitting to the demands of another. Sympathy for the Devil – song written by Mick Jagger and recorded by the Rolling Stones in 1968. ta-ta – British in origin; 'goodbye' Terminator (The) – Ah'node at his most intimidating. Terminator TX – the female version. tête à tête – French; literally 'head-to-head'; a private conversation. Tinkerbelle – popular variant of 'Tinker Bell', a character in J.M. Barrie's stageplay 'Peter Pan'. whack – kill; murder. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 11 This is the twentieth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter XI "…Top Floor, going down…" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. 'Tinkerbelle' is in good hands, and the information she has provided as well as the assistance she has given make the next two operations possible. Not simple, but definitely possible. In fact, if their luck holds, James and the gang may be able to get both Lydia and Marco at the same time. Harder to accomplish, but with a lot less exposure. Read along as Operations 'Fat Ass' and 'Guido' come to a surprising conclusion… Surprising for Lydia and The Putz certainly; but somewhat surprising for the James gang too… Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XI "…Top Floor, Going Down…" "…It's vital that we get Marco and Lydia here as quickly as possible…" Gwendolyn and Saundra were sitting in the living room talking. They glanced up when I entered. I gave them a brief rundown on my instructions to Cassandra. They agreed to assist if necessary. I paused long enough to accept a hug from each of them, then grabbed the laptop and the map and headed out the door. I wanted to be close when the villains arrived. Saundra was already punching up Maxine's number when I left. Lydia's place was less than ten minutes farther down that same road. Traffic was light. I saw two other cars on the drive. The road to Lydia's place was on the right. Maxine appeared from a stand of trees on the left when she saw my car. She waved and pointed a few yards farther up the road where an old cutting, probably a logging road or hunting trail provided a turn out. Her truck was parked fifty feet up, out of sight of the road. Marti was inside talking on her phone. She shut it as I climbed out of my car. She slid out of the truck as Maxine walked up to join us. "Cora's found the place to do her thing. The hookup's about twenty yards in." Marti announced. "The power and phone lines run along the road up to the house. It's about a half-mile in, down by the lake. As soon as you're ready, I'll call her and she'll disconnect them." I thought for a minute, then said. "We'll wait until I'm inside. What I have to say will shake them up. I want you to shake them up more. Let them know that I'm not alone." They nodded. "That makes sense, James." Maxine said. "I was wondering how we could let them know that you're not by yourself. There's no telling what those two assholes might do if we give them too many options and too much time to think." Marti punched up Cora again. She confirmed the plan, then we settled in to wait. All three of us were tense, but quiet. I was reviewing everything. Maxine and Marti looked like they were too. While I thought about things, I glanced at the car. The top was folded down. Good. I wanted the bad guys to see one person get out of the car with no place for anyone else to hide. They'd be watching for it. I didn't want them to get too nervous before I was inside where I could see them. Twenty minutes later, Lydia's black Lexus roared up the road. She made the turn onto her drive with gravel flying. Marco was right behind in his Mercedes convertible. He was a bit more concerned with the paint job on his car. We gave them one minute, then followed. I led the way and stopped when Cora stepped from the trees. She pointed to the transformer on the pole beside the road. We all got out for a last conference, then Cora started climbing. I nodded to her, and told Maxine to give me two additional minutes to get to the house. We both looked at our watches. Seven minutes from the tick, Cora was to pull the power. Ten minutes after that, Maxine was to call in the cavalry if I wasn't out or hadn't communicated with the correct code word: 'sister'. She nodded then punched my arm. The adrenaline was running, so I don't think I felt it. No bruise either. Surprise. Marti touched my shoulder. Cora gave me thumbs up from her perch atop the pole. I slid into the car and waved as I drove up the road. Nice house. Lydia had paid dearly for her comforts and privacy. The house was new. Though I could see that the area had been landscaped in the recent past, an old barn stood across the drive. I'd have bet that Lydia had had the old house torn down and the new place built upon the foundation. They were standing beside their cars talking, and turned when they heard mine. Both looked puzzled when they caught sight of the Miata. They were expecting Wendy's red Bimmer. I pulled around facing back out, then hopped out with my laptop in hand. Marco started toward me, but I held up my hand and called out a greeting. I liked the setting. Outside was better. Both looked bewildered as I set the computer on the trunk of Lydia's car and hit the power switch. As the CPU booted, I turned to greet them by name. "Good afternoon Ms Parker, Mr Scuzetti." I said pleasantly. "How do you do. My name is James. I here to represent your associate, Ms Saunders. She's asked that I show you a couple of things, then explain some ground rules." Both villains were stunned. Good. Stunned means still. No activity. Confusion. I wanted to keep them off balance and quiet as long as possible. They suddenly needed a lot more information. Only I could give it to them. I had their complete attention. They weren't going anywhere until they'd heard what I had to say. The computer finished booting. I slipped a disc into the drive then turned to them. "Please step over here. In this bright light, you can see the screen better from an angle." They moved near without thinking. Marco gave me a measuring look, then bent down to focus in on the screen. Perfect. The opportunity presented itself. I took it. I chopped him across the neck. He dropped like a puppet with his strings cut. My only worry was that, with the adrenaline pumping so hard, I might hit him too hard. Training pays off. As soon as the blow landed, I knew it was on target. He'd be out for at least a half hour. It hadn't been part of the plan, but thinking about it later, I realized that we could've almost counted upon Marco to do something stupid. He seemed to have a gift for the asinine. Lydia was stunned again. She looked at me as though I had sprouted another head. She turned, looking longingly at the house, but a took her arm gently and pointed at the screen. "Don't worry Lydia." I said softly. "I won't harm you unless you do something stupid. We both know that you're not stupid. But neither you nor I need to risk Marco's reaction if he viewed this disc. You'll see what I mean when you watch it. You know Marco. He would not be happy with some of the selections. It is better that he not see it here and now. I really made this for your edification, not his.." I pulled her over to the computer and clicked the icon for her. While she watched selected cuts from the surveillance vids, I punched up the ladies. It had gone fast. I had almost three minutes remaining before the lights were scheduled to go out. Maxine answered on the first ring. "'Sister' here. Call off Cora if she hasn't already pulled the plug." I said. "We don't need it. The situation's under control. Get up here ASAP. We have one down, lights out, and one in the 'Shock and Awe' mode." I snapped the phone shut without waiting for a reply. There was no need. A second or two later I heard Maxine's yelp of triumph echo from the woods. Then Cora and Marti's answering bellows reverberating. I glanced down at the screen. The scene of Marco and Lydia discussing the latest payoff from a fashion house was just ending. Lydia was pale under her tan. She'd get more so. While she watched the vids, I kept an eye on her and gave Marco a pat-down. Surprise, surprise: he had a little sub-compact Beretta .22 tucked at the small of his back. Even Lydia was shocked to see it. I checked the safety and slipped it in my pocket. If Lydia had a weapon, she couldn't get at it without flashing the world. Her designer dress was not designed to conceal much of anything, least of all a pistol. I'd have the ladies pat her down. Lydia turned back to the screen. The cocaine discussion was running. That was followed by their conversations regarding Summer May, and their plans for their next party featuring Missy. The next scene was of Missy's leave-taking after her 'date' with Marco. Lydia's cheeks suddenly flushed. She was pissed. She looked down to Marco, sprawled on the gravel drive. I think she resisted the urge to kick him in the balls, but it took some restraint. She was barely holding onto her temper as she viewed the final scene, that of Marco and Wendy's tryst. I have to admit, she is fast. She landed that kick before I could stop her. Marco's body jumped as her pointed toe caught him square in the crotch. Still unconscious, he just gurgled. I wondered if every woman Marco dated had the urge to use his nuts for target practice. So far, two out of three that I knew had done so. I was betting that Wendy would have attempted a punt too if she could get position on him. What a pointy-head. While Lydia stood smoldering, looking down contemptuously on Poindexter, I called Gwendolyn. "Operation Guido complete." I said into the phone without preamble. "Operation 'Fat Ass' – Lydia glanced up glaring. I wagged a forefinger at her. She subsided. – complete. Operation Honeymooners underway. Will complete on-site. Out." I snapped the phone shut again. By that time the ladies were roaring up the road. Lydia parked her ass on the trunk next to the computer. She folded her arms across her chest and looked at the ground. Her face was bleak. "Alright." She said resignedly. "You've obviously got the goods on us. You're not cops. How much do you want." "We're going to talk about that." I said taking her arm. "Not just yet though. We're going to take a short ride first." She stopped and looked at me closely. A touch of concern slid through her eyes. but she wasn't sweating. Yet. "Not to worry Lydia." I said confidently. "We're not going to harm you. – At least, not as much as you've harmed others, I thought. – Nor are we going to turn you in the authorities. At least, not yet." The concern deepened in her eyes. Still no sweat, no real fear. "We just need a private place to talk." I finished. "Okay?" Maxine, Marti and Cora piled out of the truck and came to stand around us. They glanced down at Marco dismissively, then focused on Lydia. If I didn't intimidate her, she was certainly intimidated by the ladies. Lydia was a confident woman, accustomed to moving through the world of powerful people. High fashion and to a certain extent, high finance were her métier. But she had no experience dealing with women with the bulk and menace Maxine, Cora and Marti presented. That was a whole New World. A world which she would be forced to learn from the bottom. Poor Lydia. She started to sweat. I pointed to her and looked at Maxine. "Pat her down please, The Putz had a .22 and I'd rather not be surprised again today." Maxine's eyes flashed surprise then her gaze hardened as she glanced toward Lydia. That look was enough. Lydia's protests died stillbirth. With a resigned air, she raised her arms and let Maxine search. She stood silently, though she did gasp when Maxine ran her hands up each leg to her crotch. No weapons. She was clear. I produced the opaqued sunglasses. Lydia examined them, then looked at me closely before donning them. Gutsy Lady! In the meantime Cora and Marti produced rope from the truck. They hog-tied Marco, none too gently, then shoved a ball-gag in his mouth and buckled it to his neck. He was still limp when they tossed his body into the back of the pickup. They were none to gentle about that either. He hit the bedliner with a resounding thud. Maxine threw a tarp over him. Then shut the rear door securely. I led Lydia to the rear cab on the pickup. Marti climbed in back with Lydia. All three fo my accomplices gave me the thumbs up as they took off down the drive. Halfway down gravel sprayed as the truck suddenly slid to an abrupt stop. Maxine hopped out. Cora slipped over into the drivers seat and it took off again. Curious, I watched as Maxine trotted over to a small Caterpillar tractor sitting beside the barn. She waved at me to hurry down. I was suddenly glad again that Maxine was on our side. She was as 'paranoid' as I. Time out. Okay, 'careful'. How's that? Time in. I grabbed the laptop and erased our footprints, then dug a quick circle in the gravel around the areas we'd driven with the heel of my shoe. Gravel flew as I pulled down the drive. Meanwhile Maxine fired up the tractor. She pulled onto the drive as I passed. In five minutes she'd obliterated our tire tracks beside the other cars and was following me down the drive dragging the blade behind. I parked on the edge of the macadam at the turn out while she clanked across the road and obliterated our tracks there. As she clanked back acroos the road, I grabbed a leafy branch, tossed it to her. She shut down the tractor just off the driveway near Cora's pole. Maxine trailed the branch behind in the gravel, erasing her footprints, then threw the branch in the brush across the road. The only trace we left was the tractor sitting in the brush, and some marks on the pole from Cora's climbing gear. Maxine had even worn her work gloves while driving the cat. The worst problem we encountered in the entire operation was getting Maxine into the passenger seat of my car. Tight fit. Maxine was so proud of us, she grabbed my face and laid a liplock on me that would have astounded the ladies at the club. It was then that I knew how worried she'd been. About me. What a sweetheart. We grinned at each other, I gave her a kiss of my own, then she let out another of her yelps. Her victory cry echoed through the forest as we cruised away. Missions accomplished. Virtually no evidence of our presence left behind. No casualties. We'd done it! We'd made the snatch. Now for the fun part. Oh Marco. You poor schmuck. You are in so much trouble. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms ball-gag – a rubber or plastic ball larger enough to fit a person's mouth, with straps and buckles to secured it to that person's head. Beamer (or Beemer) – the acronym for a motorcycle manufactured by the Barvarian Motor Works; see 'Bimmer'; see 'BMW'. Beretta .22 – a 22 caliber firearm (pistol) made in Italy. Bimmer – the acronym for a car manufactured by the Barvarian Motor Works; see 'Beamer'; see 'BMW'. BMW – a car manufactured by the Barvarian Motor Works; see 'Bimmer'; see 'Beamer'. hogtie – to truss one's arms and legs together behind their back so that the arms are pulled down and the legs are folded up. Homer – Idiot; moron; hopelessly inane and stupid person; from the character Homer Simpson of the animated television series, 'The Simpsons'. putz – Yiddish for 'penis' or 'dick'. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: If you like the story, please vote. If you do not like the story, please vote. Whether or not you like the story, I invite and encourage you to provide feedback. Constuctive criticism is always welcome. If you give feedback, please also send an e-mail. I have received some wonderful responses to my work, and some not so wonderful responses. I love the former and would like to send thank you messages. Contact me through literotica.com. I do not so much mind the latter as find them frustrating, because I have no venue in which to respond except to continue to write, my way. If you have negative feedback, and feel strongly enough about it to write it in the public comments section below, please also send an e-mail through the literotica website. I promise to respond with answers to your criticisms. To those that have sent e-mails, thank you. I have answered all with one exception. To whomever you are, I humbly apologize. I accidently deleted your message before I could respond. Thanks all for reading. orenco online. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 12 This is the twenty-first installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter XII Interlude with Maxine ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Operations Guido and Fat Ass are complete. No friendly casualties, though Marco is a little worse for wear. Oh well. Now that Lydia and Marco are in custody, Operation Honeymooners is in progress. But Maxine has some concerns: things that our hero hasn't thought through. It's time to let Maxine in on Plan One. There are a few things that she needs to know… Besides, maybe later, she can help… Oh baby! Veronica would hate that… Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XII Interlude with Maxine "…We just need a private place to talk..." On the way back to Gwendolyn's, Maxine told me that she'd been a Naval Officer for eight years, but had never seen an operation so well planned, nor one that had gone off so smoothly. It was impressive as hell, particularly my part in it. Our relationship had definitely changed. We were closer. We'd shared a dangerous situation. There was a respect that hadn't been there before. I realized that Maxine had been watching me. Backing me up, but also ready to jump in and take over if I fucked up. I hadn't fucked up. She was impressed. It felt good. Maxine could see the gears grinding in my head as we cruised down the road. I could feel her eyes on me. I glanced at her, then smiled. "You're a little bit surprised. Aren't you?" I said finally. "Surprised?" She mused. "Yeah. I guess I am. You handled that like a pro. Better than a lot of people I've seen in action. People who've had the training. Sure of yourself. Gathering the information. Looking at all the options. Picking your team. Ensuring logistics. Setting up the lines of communication. Covering the details, including fallbacks. Giving orders, but listening to suggestions. You improvised beautifully by taking out the dickweed, even though he had a gun. No shaking. No hesitation. No confusion. Yeah, I'm surprised." She shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable, but it was impossible. She just didn't fit. I glanced over. She was staring ahead, watching the road. "But I'll tell you what, James." She said with satisfaction. "I know that I don't have to worry about you anymore." "You never did. But thanks for the back up." I laughed. Serious again, I said. "But watch out for Marti." I glanced at her again. Her eyebrows lifted. "She's pissed. She could really hurt Marco. I mean, really hurt him. Not 'dead' hurt. But 'permanent' hurt." I said. She could hear the certainty in my voice. "Yeah, you're right. Good catch." She said nodding. "We talked about it on the way over there. She could de-nut that guy real easy." "Yeah she could." I agreed. "I wouldn't cry too much if that happened. He is such a dickweed. But Marti would never forgive herself later. She'd have nightmares. She doesn't need that. Neither does Tiffany." Maxine nodded thoughtfully. "That's exactly what I told her." "I tell you what." I continued. "Let's keep an eye on her. Let her get a few good licks in, then pull her off. She can help with Lydia's punishment as kind of a backup, when Saundra or Gwendolyn aren't putting her through her paces." "That's good, James." Maxine agreed. I watched the road, but I could hear the smile in her voice. "And we'll put Cora in as backup on Marco. I think she feels almost the same way about Lydia as Marti feels about Marco." I could feel her eyes on me again. "Cora expects men to be shits." She said. She put her hand on my shoulder to take the sting out of her words. "She's always surprised when a guy does something nice. But she hates it when a woman hurts another woman. To her, that's against the rules." I nodded. "Yes, I've seen that in her. Here's the plan then: We'll use Marti and Cora as backup; as the heavies on those two villians. Marti on Marco. Cora on Lydia. But only under supervision. Okay?" "Yeah 'Okay'!" Maxine enthused. "That way the girls work off their angry without any accidents." "Now, what about you?" I asked, glancing at her again. Her eyebrows went up. "Me?" She said startled. "Don't worry about me. I'm the safest one you've got. Oh those two assholes will get theirs. I'm gonna enjoy making them suffer. But I think, no matter what we do to them, it's nothing compared to them watching all their plans go up in smoke. Lydia in particular will be devastated. She thinks that she get through this, then everything will go back to the way it was, with her on top." It was my turn to be startled. "'D'you think so?" I asked. "Oh yeah. Trust me." Maxine said with conviction. "That bitch has never been in a situation she couldn't control. Even now she thinks she'll find a way to control this one. I'm almost sorry she saw my truck. But it wouldn't matter. She's seen us. She'd find us if she wanted to. Hell, you can't miss any of the three of us, can you. We're obviously dykes, and I'm not exactly unknown is this town." "My job is to break her." Maxine mused. "I've got to find a handle. Something that will kick her feet right out from under her. She's got a dream. Something she wants so bad, she can taste it…" I glanced at her, musing. She was staring hard through the windscreen, pondering. Then I thought, what the hell. It was time to let Maxine in on Operation Mama. I thought about it for another minute, then spotted a hole-in-the-wall diner up ahead. There were a couple of freshly painted picnic tables under the trees nearby. We were about two minutes from Gwendolyn's place. This would take longer. I slowed abruptly and pulled into the gravel lot. Maxine looked at me questioningly, but I ignored her while I punched up Gwendolyn's number. "Hi, it's me." I said when she answered. "Maxine and I are taking care of a couple of details. You go ahead with the prep work. We'll be along in twenty minutes. Is everything else okay? Did the packages arrive safely?" Gwendolyn assured me that everything was fine. The truck had arrived. The packages were in storage. Lydia and Marco were under restraint in their individual cells. "Get them down to the basics." I said. "But don't do anything more until we get there. We're going to modify the plan a bit. You'll like it. Can't tell you more until we get there." She agreed and we signed off. I turned to Maxine. "Two things: first, in order to break those two yo-yos, we're going to have to do to them at least some of what they did to others. You do realize that don't you?" Maxine nodded, "Yeah, I've thought about that. Cora, Marti and I discussed it briefly. We don't see any way around it, if we're going to get justice for Summer. We could turn the whole thing over to the police, but you don't seem to want that…" I interupted. "That's the second thing. If you can pry yourself out of that seat, I'll buy you a cup of coffee. We can sit over there. I've got something more to show you." Maxine's eyes grew wide. "Oh shit! You maniac! I should have guessed. You've got something else planned, don't you." I grinned. Maxine managed to work her way out of the seat, but it weren't easy. She stretched to get the kinks out while I set up the laptop and slipped another disc in the drive. She took a seat on the bench, and watched the action unfold while I went in for coffee. Sweet little waitress. Early twenties. Nice cho-chos. Cute butt. The short-order cook gave me an ugly frown. Apparently I was poaching just by looking. Oh well. I watched Maxine, sipping my coffee as she viewed selected cuts from the scenes with Marco and Missy, and Marco and Veronica. Those of Missy were not new. Those with Veronica definitely were. When the first disc finished running, she looked at me still puzzled. I held up a finger and exchanged the disc for one of selected cuts from the scene between Marco and Lydia. Maxine's expression turned from puzzlement to comprehension as the disc spun. "Oh those assholes!" She murmured as she watched. "So that's what they were up to. I knew there had to be something more." When the screen blanked, she looked to me with a grin. "You kept that one close to your chest, didn't you, you jerk." "Yeah, I did." I answered with a matching grin. "This one's called 'Operation Mama'. Here's the handle you need. Lydia wants it all, and she thinks she's gonna get it. She's got to have her own videos of Marco and Veronica in action. Blackmail is on her mind. She wants to dropkick Veronica and take over the magazine. Part of our job is to get that shit away from her." She nodded. "Yeah, but that ain't all, is it." She said with conviction. "Mama's a bitch-on-wheels herself, isn't she. I bet she's been yankin' your chain for months now. It's time she got wound up in some chain of her own, isn't it." "Yeah." I nodded. "Veronica has been a Queen Bitch from the first moment we met. I want to play with her a little, but I couldn't let Ren and Stimpy have her. If those pictures got out, her daughter would be devastated. Knowing Lydia, she'd take over from Veronica, then release the pics anyway. Won't let that happen." "No, we won't." Maxine agreed. I appreciated the 'we'. "This gives me just what I need to kick the traces out from under Lydia." She looked up. Her eyes were glittering with plans. "You asked my what I wanted. Here it is: Marti and Cora are still in on Lydia's discipline. The physical part anyway. But I'm gonna be in charge of breaking her. I'm gonna do it in self-defense. If I don't take her down, she's eventually gonna come after us. She's that type." She looked at me closely. "I bet I can guess what part you've chosen." She said grinning. "First, you're gonna have some fun with Tinkerbelle… Our little Wendy-girl." Surprised, I looked up to meet her eyes. "Shit! I've seen the way she looks at you." Maxine continued. "As far as she's concerned, you're her 'white knight'. She'll do anything to stay close to you… To get on your good side. She looks at you like Cassandra looks at you. I think you've got another one of those what'da'yacallit, another 'submissive'? Never understood that, but different strokes… She smiled, her eyes twinkling with secret glee. "That ain't the best part though. That's just icing on the cake. You've got a different agenda. One that you've been planning from the beginning of this whole adventure." Maxine was certain of herself. "You're gonna take mama down, aren't you." She stated rather than asked. "Hard. So hard, her butt's gonna feel it for about a month." "Three months, actually." I answered, sipping my coffee. "Her daughter leaves town at the end of next week. She's going to Italy for the Summer. In the meantime, Veronica and I are going to get to know each other real well." I put the cup down, swirling the coffee. It tasted as though it had been cooking for a couple of hours. Couldn't wait to get back to Gwendolyn's for a fresh cup. "This isn't about sex either. Not completely anyway." I admitted. "Oh, I'll tear a piece or two off of Veronica's ass, but that isn't the real goal. Not anymore." "Mama is not nice." I finished. "I could handle it if she left it between her and me. But she took a cheap… I mean a cheap shot at Mom… Can't let her get away with that! It's time someone taught her some manners." I threw the remnants of the coffee on the gravel as I stood. Maxine picked up the laptop. I tossed the cups in the trash, then led the way to the car. We paused for a moment with the car between us, looking at each other. Maxine waited for the rest of it. "After it's over, I'll give her a copy of that disc. She can spend the rest of her life thinking about how close she came to the abyss…" We slid into our seats, Maxine with a bit more trouble than I. I looked at her once more as the engine kicked over. "…and about who pulled her out." Maxine smiled as the gravel kicked. She understood. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms chochos – female breasts. dickweed – male pubic hair; a pejorative term for a man; asshole; moron; idiot. logistics – the aspect of military science dealing with the procurement, maintenance, and transportation of military matériel, facilities, and personnel; the handling of the details of an operation. Ren and Stimpy – two cartoon characters, a "psychotic Chihuahua and a blissfully stupid cat"; see The Secret Origins of Ren & Stimpy by Brandon Finkler. submissive – a person who attains sexual gratification by submitting to the demands of another. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 13 This is the twenty-second installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter XIII "…When the party's over…" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Operation Honeymooners is on, and the troops are taking the villains down. It's not pretty, but someone's got to do it. Lydia, Marco and Wendy (otherwise known as 'Fat Ass', 'the putz' and 'Tinkerbelle') are locked up and awaiting punishment. Some are more pissed than concerned. They should be concerned. The mission is to get two of the three to give up the discs and the cash, then get outta town. It's going to take some convincing, but James and his gang have all the time and tools they need. Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter XIII "…When the party's over…" "My job is to break her." Maxine mused. "I've got to find a handle. Something that will kick her feet right out from under her. She's got a dream. Something she wants so bad, she can taste it…" The adrenaline rush had faded fast; gone by the time Maxine and I got back to Gwendolyn's. It was time for the next phase of Operation Honeymooners. We had given ourselves six days to break them. All told, it took a little less than three. In the end, they gave it all up. I had noted that there had been no casualties during the take-down at Lydia's place. Since Marco probably would not concur with that BDA, I mentally ammended it to read no friendly casualties. But that his head and coĵones were aching might soon be the least of his worries. What a nimrod. Maxine and I arrived to find everyone downstairs with the captured villains. We checked the monitors upstairs before we went down ourselves. Marco was just coming around. Saundra stalked in the door as we watched. The ladies had stripped him to his briefs and secured him to a chair. A collar circled his neck. His arms were cuffed behind his back; his ankles to the chair legs. A strap was cinched around his waist. He wasn't going anywhere without help. Sorry asshole, no can do. Try the next window. Lydia was in another cell. Gwendolyn Marti and Cora stood watching and making lewd comments as she slowly removed her clothes. She didn't appear to be at all frightened. She was pissed. She should have been frightened. Maxine was right. Lydia was tough. She didn't scare easy. But we had lots of time to convince her of the error of her ways. She'd break. Everyone breaks when the right pressure is applied. Humiliation was the key to Lydia in my mind. Well that and the fear of twenty or so years in prison. Even so, pain she could take. Humiliation was something else. Her ego was in for a beating. We'd keep beating until she gave it all up. At the time, I hoped we all had the stomach for it. I thought Gwendolyn and Saundra could take it. No doubt. Cassandra and I too. I wasn't worried about Maxine. She'd keep her eyes on the goal. She was as mentally tough as Lydia. If anyone would have nightmares, it would be Marti and Cora. My idea was that we'd let them get their licks in early, then ease them out of it. They didn't need the grief. Time out. That shows you what I know. Those two ladies are a lot tougher than I'd imagined. Cora and Marti not only stuck with it, they came up with a few wrinkles of their own. Marco and Lydia had committed serious no-no's. Cora and Marti made them pay for their sins. They didn't like all of it – none of us did – but they didn't have nightmares about it. Time in. Wendy was back in her own cell with Cassandra watching her as I had instructed. She was sitting lotus fashion on a cushioned cot tastefully attired in her collar. Her mons and pussylips were hairless and flushed. Cassandra was kneeling behind her doing her hair up off her neck again. Tinkerbelle had bathed – if you can call a cold-water shower with a bar of cheap soap in the open corner of the dungeon bathing – then Cassandra had given her the Blue Wax 'treatment' under Saundra's supervision. So much for the action down in the dungeon. Maxine and I looked at each other and grinned. It was almost time to call the troops together again, this time to get their impressions and to discuss assignments. First we'd get the two villains settled, then eat a late lunch while we talked. That decided, the two of us went downstairs to get in on the fun. Maxine made one stop, joined the group in with Lydia. I stepped into Wendy's cell. Wendy glanced up out of the corner of her eye when the door opened. Cassandra slapped her on the hip and told her to keep her eyes on the floor as she had been told. I walked in as Cassandra finished fixing her hair. She whispered to Wendy, who immediately sprang up to her knees and linked her fingers behind her neck. She shivered as Cassandra reached under her arms to cup her bare breasts and tweak her nipples. Cassandra smiled up at me as she fondled Wendy's chest. When Wendy's nipples were full and crinkled to a rosy glow, Cassandra sat back on her heels to watch. I walked over and stood in front of Wendy. She stared at my knees, not daring to look up. I reached down to brush my fingertips over her nipples. A shiver ran through her body. Goosebumps ran along her arms in its wake. Her crinkled nipples tightened even more. I bent to fondle one breast, testing the weight, then ran my fingertips along the lips of her bald vulva. Very nice. Soft and smooth and a tiny bit slippery wet. She shuddered. A barely audible mew escaped her throat at my touch. More wet glistened. Tinkerbelle was turned on. Hmmm. "You've done well to this point, Wendy, but it isn't over yet." I warned her. "Lydia and Marco are in the next two cells." She didn't seem surprised. "Just remember, what happens to them, can happen to you too. It all depends on how well you cooperate." That got her trembling. Apparently Cassandra had been filling her ear with tales of what we had planned for her senior partners. "I'll be seeing to you." I said. "Cassandra is to assist me. Now tell me truthfully, were you ever spanked as a child?" Wendy shook her head. She was visibly shaking. "Well there's always a first time for everything, isn't there," I finished, then gently squeezed her breast once more and left her there with Cassandra. I stepped next door to Marco's cell. He was awake, but not saying much. Hard to talk with a ball-gag stuck in your mouth. He was eyeing Saundra warily. Marco was maintaining, but both Saundra and I could see the cracks in his façade. Saundra moved behind his back when I came in the door. He looked up. Anger flashed across his face when he recognized me. He mumbled something around the ball stuck between his teeth – I was willing to bet his words weren't complementary. He started to look nervous when Saundra laid her crop across his shoulder. I stood in front of him hands on hips smiling down on him. "Marco, Marco, Marco…" I said shaking my head. "…you really are a schmo. I've met three of your lady friends so far. Two of the three have kicked you in the nuts, and the third cannot wait for the chance. Do you always have that affect on women?" He was straining at the cuffs holding him to the chair. Saundra gave him a taste of things to come. Right across the shoulders with her crop. Smack! Marco gave a muffled screech and suddenly sat up very straight. His eyes popped wide. Sweat lined his forehead. Yep, the façade was definitely developing major cracks. "By the way." I said as I moved to his side. "This is Mistress Saundra. She is to conduct your interrogation…" Saundra sauntered around him, trailing the business end of her crop across his shoulder, down his chest, then gave the bulge in his jockeys a couple of taps. That did it. Marco looked like he was going to cry. Saundra began laughing. She was smiling with everything except her eyes. They were dead. He looked up at her in growing fear. I have to admit, when Saundra is zoned, she is very scary. She leaned down inches from his face, her legs straight, knees together, her magnificent tush pushed out high. Her lush breasts were near popping out of her strapless corset. I knew then that she had Marco's complete attention. Marco didn't even glance at the gorgeous rack she was presenting to him. But he only had eyes for her face and the crop she carried. "You're going to tell us everything about your operation." I told him, my voice certain. "You're going to give up the money. You're going to tell us about the cocaine. You're going to tell us about the payoffs from the Fashion Houses. You're going to tell us about Summer and the parties. You're gonna tell us things we don't want to know before we're through with you. Count on it." Saundra mouthed a kiss at him, then traced the tip of her crop around his package. Marco began trembling. He knew that whatever she had planned, it was going to hurt. A lot. A whole freakin' lot. Before he could blink, she slashed the crop on his bare thighs twice. Once to either thigh, barely missing his nads. If that chair hadn't been secured to the floor, Marco would have smacked his head on the ceiling. As it was, his pecs bulged with the effort to protect himself. He hunched forward, attempting to fold himself in half, but the cuffs on his wrists and the strap around his waist prevented more than a shrug. All he could do was sit there and suffer. His muffled shriek was as much of fear as pain. I bent to speak in his ear. "By the way dickweed. You haven't yet met all the ladies yet. After seeing your reaction to Mistress Saundra, I'm guessing that you don't really want to. But tough shit. You're gonna meet them anyway. Those three ladies can't wait to meet you…" Now I had Marco's attention too. He was frantic trying to keep his eyes on Saundra as she circled, but he was desperate to hear me too. I straightened and nodded to Saundra, smiling. I flashed my open hand at her and pointed up. She nodded. She had five minutes to play, then we'd break. Marco hadn't noticed. He was too busy watching the crop. "One other thing to think about Marco…" I said as I moved to the door. I turned there. "Mistress Saundra here is ambivalent about you, but the other ladies? They're sort of friends of Summer May Mathews. They don't like you. At all!" I grinned at Saundra and said "Play nice now." as I walked out. As the door closed I head another smack and Marco's muffled scream. Last I slipped into Lydia's cell. The rest of the gang was in there with her. Gwendolyn was hanging back, letting the big girl's have their fun for the moment. Lydia was not having a good time. She saw me enter just as Cora was closing the cuffs around her wrists behind. A flush spread across her face and down to the tips of her breasts. Nice gazongas. Excellent nipples. Speaking of nice gazongas, Maxine had exchanged her work clothes for work clothes. She kept her jeans and boots, but her ubiquitous t-shirt and denim workshirt were gone. In their place was a leather bustier taken from Gwendolyn's costume collection. Maxine's massive tits were barely restrained in those leather cups. The strapless bustier also showed off her ripped abs, muscular arms and broad shoulders to their best advantage. I should mention that Marti and Cora had also exchanged their shirts for tops more appropriate to the setting: Marti wore an open leather vest held together with a series of buckles down the front, and Cora had on a zippered leather crop top. All three were showing plenty of spectacular cleavage. It was easy to tell that Lydia didn't at all like being virtually naked and cuffed while surrounded by a bunch of strange women dressed in that much black leather. She certainly didn't like to be in that state with a strange man in the room. She was standing in the middle of the cell, bare but for her panties. Lydia, like her boss, was into designer underwear. No off-the-shelf Victoria's Secret specials for her. She was clad in black lace. Nice little boyshorts: sheer black lace with rose patterns. Those lowrise panties left nothing to the imagination. My kind of panties. The kind that covered everything, but hid nothing. There was way too much hair to see much of her puss. For us, that was a good thing. Nothing like having the hair of your crotch ripped out to get you in the mood to talk. Marti stood beside Lydia's right shoulder. Maxine beside her left. I took a place against the wall beside Gwendolyn and folded my arms to watch. Lydia was looking daggers, but soon lost interest in me. "…I don't think her ass is that fat." Cora said. Apparently I'd joined a discussion already in process. "I bet she can pump her butt pretty good when she wants to..." "Bullshit!" Marti interjected from one side. "Look at this hunk of lard." She said as she slapped Lydia's butt which quivered from the blow. "Her ass is almost as big as mine, and I outweigh her by over a hundred pounds." Marti was stretching it a bit, but Lydia was hating the topic. "Tell ya what…" Maxine joined in. "We'll fix you both up with strap-ons. Then she can show us how well she pumps that big ass." She ran one hand down Lydia's hip, then squeezed one cheek. Fear flashed through Lydia's eyes, then she got that stone cold look again. I'd seen the flash only because I was watching her closely for any emotion. Tough broad. "Open your mouth sweetie." This from Cora behind. "I got another present for ya. Here, suck on this for awhile. You look pretty good with a dick in your mouth; betcha look even better down on your knees lickin' my pussy." She pushed a penis-gag into Lydia's reluctant mouth and buckled the straps behind her head. Lydia was hating that. "And one more, Little Miss Fat Ass." Cora said teasingly as she circled Lydia's neck with a thick leather collar. The snap of the lock could be heard throughout the cell. Cora moved around Maxine to stand in front of Lydia. She held up the key dangling from a silver chain, then handed the chain to Maxine, who secured it around her neck. "I do like your plan Maxine." She enthused. "I'm gonna love fuckin' this bitch." She reached out to fondle one of Lydia's naked breasts. Lydia flinched, trying to pull away, but stopped when Cora squeezed a bit harder in warning. Lydia subsided. "But since we're discussing her big butt," She continued. "I think we should fuck her ass for this competition. Her cunt's already used. But there's nothing like watching a girl take a dildo up the ass the first ti – . "Dibs on her cherry." Maxine interupted. Cora stuck her tongue out at Maxine, then laughed. "Shit Maxine, you get all the fun. Okay, I get seconds though." For the first time, Lydia showed some real emotion. She looked horrified. The three ladies smiled. If I'd been in Lydia's position, those smiles would have appeared to be pure evil. Hell, from my position, those grins looked evil. "You always did have the good ideas Maxine." Marti agreed. "I guess that I get sloppy thirds, but maybe I can make her cum when I ream her ass." It was time for my speech. I pushed my way from the wall and stood beside Cora. She stepped back, but loomed at my shoulder. Talk about instant menace. Lydia was still maintaining, but like her pal Marco, I thought I could see the first major cracks in her confidence. It was time to chisel another. I noted absently that Lydia appeared to wear the same sort of bikini as Veronica Hart when tanning, though her tan was not as deep. She had three small patches of white flesh centered upon her mons and upon her breasts over those incredible nipples of hers. To a certain extent, Lydia wore her emotions on her chest. Those doorbell nipples of hers were popped, full and bursting. Mmh mmmmhh, lookin' tasty Lydia! She looked at me closely, as if to judge whether I was more of a danger than the ladies, or the guy that would save her ass. Literally. She flinched when I cupped her naked breasts, then brushed my thumbnails over those fat nubbins. "Have you ever considered a set of nipple rings Lydia?" I asked absently. Her eyes grew round. She knew instantly that I was much more dangerous than the ladies. She shook her head and that lengthened into a shudder through her body. Her breasts danced in my hands. I thumbed her nipples 'til the nubs stood high, crinkled berry-brown. "No?. Pity." I continued thoughtfully. "I think a set of rings would enhance your breasts." Our eyes met. Guarded. Uncertain. Questions crowded behind her eyes. "Maybe a ring for your clit too." I mused. "Not gold though; silver. Yes definitely silver. The color of submission…" I reached to the waistband of her panties. She shook her head and tried to back away, but Maxine and Marti gripped her arms. She flushed. Her protest was muffled, the words jumbled by the gag. I smiled thinly as I pulled the waistband out and down, then peered into the gap. Her dark curls grew wild over her mound and vulva. She pulled her ass back in an attempt to hide herself, but the delicate silk panties threatened to rip. The last thing she wanted was to be without anything to cover herself. She relented, thrusting her hips forward to lessen the strain. Maxine and Marti held her there, each with a hand on her ass. Of course, that also opened her wide for my view. Mine and the ladies. They stepped close to peer down at her hairy puss with me. "Mmmhh. What a mess Lydia." I admonished. "Not what I expected from a woman from the fashion world. We're going to have to do something about this. Your pussy should be on display for the ladies and I." I looked again into her eyes. "From the state of your cunt one would think that you've never heard of a bikini wax. Or maybe that just doesn't appeal to you. Tough shit. I'll give you this man's perspective. I like to see a woman's pussy plucked bare. It makes me hard. These ladies like it too. If there's no hair, none gets caught in your teeth." That startled her. Smiling at her with dead eyes, I continued. "Your going to find that out first hand. Some of my friends here have hair, some don't. We'll compare notes after you've had a chance to service a few of them with your tongue. Before that though, I think we'll dispense with yours. I'm certain that you know what a 'honeymoon' wax is. Tinkerbelle has had hers. the putz is next in line, then it's your turn." The whites were showing in Lydia's eyes. Rage flamed there, but fear too. Her face was flushed. She despised being on display for us. She could have killed me for the humiliation I'd caused her. But she feared me too. Good. More to come. I let the waistband snap against her belly. She mewed more in surprise than pain. "On to more immediate things." I said. "We have you. We have your pal Marco. We have Wendy. We're not the cops. We're not bound by law; just by conscience. After considering what you and your pals did to Summer and the other girls, we don't have much of that. As far as we're concerned, you've already been tried, convicted and sentenced. This is your jail." Lydia flinched. She was not liking this converstation at all. "We can hold you for as long as we want. No one knows where you are. We have all the time in the world to get what we want from you. You and your two friends are going to feel a bit of the pain you've been dealing out to others. Summer May Mathews and her family for starters." Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 13 Surprise dawned in Lydia's eyes. Then doubt. We weren't the cops and we weren't connected with the drug trade. Who were we then? I could see the questions in her eyes. I gently fondled her breasts. "You picked the wrong victim this time girlfriend." I said. "Just think of us as the avengers. That's all you need to know about us." I squeezed her breasts once more, then put my hands on my hips. I had her full attention. "You know Marco. He isn't near as tough as you." It was time for some truths. She nodded slightly. "You also know Wendy. She's about as tough as a soap bubble. Her nickname around here is Tinkerbelle. We broke her in about ten minutes sitting in a café. She's now two cells over telling one of our friends everything she knows. Marco will soon be doing the same thing. This is Mistress Gwendolyn…" I pointed over my shoulder. Gwendolyn stepped beside me. I put my arm around her waist as she leaned into me. Their eyes met, then Lydia looked back to me. Doubt remained there, but concern was growing. Lydia hadn't liked what she saw in Gwendolyn's eyes. "…Mistress Saundra is entertaining Marco." I continued. "Or rather I should say, Marco is entertaining Mistress Saundra. She gets a kick out of hearing a man scream." Gwendolyn thumbed a switch on a remote control. The intercom came on. As if on cue, Marco's scream echoed my words. Saundra is such an artiste with her crop. Lydia shuddered. Gwendolyn thumbed the switch again. I waved my hand around the room. "Maxine here…" I indicated with a gesture "…and Mistress Gwendolyn…' giving her waist a squeeze "…are in charge. These other ladies are here to help. They don't at all approve what you and Marco did to Summer. I pointed to the other two. "Meet Marti and Cora. My friend Cora here in particular has a personal rule against a woman hurting another woman. You fucked up there girl. She's gonna make you pay for that mistake." "For now," I said as I nodded to Maxine and Marti. "just kneel here and think of ways to keep us happy." They pushed Lydia back to the wall and forced her to her knees on a thin pad. Maxine attached a chain to her collar. The others moved out the door. I remained standing in front of her while Maxine finished. She caressed Lydia's cheek in passing then followed the others upstairs. Lydia shivered at her touch. She looked up to me. If she could have, she would have asked a number of questions. I answered the most important. "You'll find that we're easy to please." I said. "We only want three things: information, the cash and the recordings you've made of Veronica Hart." Lydia went very still. The look on her face told me that I'd hit her where it hurt. Until that moment, she thought that our concern for Summer's plight was no more than a smokescreen; that this was truly all about the money. Not that the cash wasn't important to her, but it was secondary to those recordings. With those discs, she would have the power to take over the magazine. She'd have power first. Then more money would come. It was bad enough that we knew about the drugs and cash. Lydia was devastated that we knew about the recordings too. "Yes Lydia," I confirmed. "We know all about your plan to take over the magazine. Well cupcake, it ain't gonna happen." She seemed to collapse in on herself, but her eyes never left my face. There was still a whole lot of determination there. It would take a bunch before Lydia gave up her dream. "You give us the cash and the recordings and tell us everything, then we'll let you three go. Everything. The drugs, the deals, the kickbacks, the parties… well, you just tell us everything. Until I'm certain that I know it all, I'm going to let the ladies have their fun. By the way Lydia. You look very natural on your knees naked. Perfect position for lots of fun things." Lydia flushed even darker. I started toward the door where Gwendolyn awaited me. "I don't know, getting ass-fucked doesn't sound like much fun to me, but maybe that's your bent. We'll find out, though, won't we." Gwendolyn shut the door firmly behind us. I caught Lydia's expression before we left. No doubt in the world. The cracks were there and getting bigger. Lydia was finally spooked. Marco's cell door opened as we exited Lydia's. Saundra emerged. The latch clicked firmly behind. "My little man is almost where we want him." She said with a grin taking my arm. "He's so worried that I'm gonna damage his dick, he's about ready to tell us everything." "That's good, but I'm almost sorry he's giving out so soon. I'd like him to suffer a bit before it's all over." I said as we walked toward Wendy's cell. "Lydia's gonna be harder though. It's is going to take some time and a little bit extra to break her." I stopped at the door and turned to Saundra. "Gwendolyn here is going to give Lydia a complete workout. She and your new friend Marco have some things I want. We're gonna get those things from them..." I knocked once, then opened the door. "…One way or the other." Cassandra had Wendy kneeling with her palms against the wall, her arms outstretched. Wendy didn't move when the door opened. She was learning quickly. I waggled my fingers at Cassandra, calling her to me. She patted Wendy's bare ass a couple of times and told her to stay right where she was. If she moved, she'd be in trouble. Then she followed me out the door. "Wendy is more than ready to help you in any way she can." Cassandra said with satisfaction. "At this point, she is almost begging to help. But I think she needs at least a taste of the whip, just on general principles. I don't think you should let her off easy." "Don't worry Cassandra." I said with a smile twitching at my lips. "Tinkerbelle is going to get her bare ass tanned before we're through with her. Right Saundra?" "Definitely." She answered with an evil smile, tapping her riding crop against the palm of her hand. "Most definitely." We discussed the situation upstairs while scarfing on sandwiches and sundry. Our goals were limited and clear: get the money, get the discs, scare the shit out of the Lydia and Marco and encourage both to leave town, with a bit of punishment thrown in for the hell of it. Summer deserved the last. Marco tried to escape that first day. He made his move when Cassandra and I went in to feed the villains while the other ladies were upstairs eating. Saundra had left him cuffed to the chair. He needed a shower. She'd scared the piss out of him. Literally. Angry welts lined his upper thighs, chest and shoulders. I'd be willing to bet that the head of his little peepee was stinging a bit too. Saundra is an artist with a crop or a whip. She can hit within a fraction of an inch of her aim point. Tear tracks lined his cheeks. No tears remained, but fear flashed in his eyes when the door opened. Rage and humiliation replaced fear when he saw that Saundra was not with us. He flushed when I waved my hand in front of my face to clear away the odor of stale urine. He strained against the cuffs still locked to the chair, mumbling something naughty around the ball-gag. He seemed desperate to get at us. Talk about telegraphing your intentions. What a schmo. I gestured to Cassandra. While Marco slobbered all over himself cursing, she placed the sandwich and the water bottle on the floor at his feet, careful to avoid the puddle. Then she moved behind to unbuckle the gag. He worked his jaw back and forth to relieve the kinks for a few seconds, then began cursing at us in an obscene mixture of English and Italian. Cassandra looked at me. I rolled my eyes and nodded. God that man is stupid. Without a word, She stepped around, grabbed a handful of his hair, reached back and slapped him across the face, forward, then back again. It's a good thing she did it open handed. Cassandra is strong. She could have broken his jaw if she'd have used her fist to hit him in the face. Instead, she used her fist to punch him in the gut. The air whooshed out of him. The blood drained from his face almost as fast as the breath shot from his lungs. It had enraged him to be slapped in the face by a woman. His face was almost purple with anger until she slugged him in the stomach. Marco went white with the effort to breathe again. Cassandra slapped him again, forward and back, then spit in his face before releasing her grip on his hair. She hadn't said a thing. But her glittering eyes spoke volumes. She stepped to my side as Marco sagged forward in the chair as far as his cuffed arms would allow, struggling to breathe. A thin line of red trickled from the corner of his mouth. "You don't get it yet, do you dickhead." I said, shaking my head sorrowfully. "The ladies here don't like you. At all. At least one of them is all for mounting your nuts on a plaque." While he was still gasping for breath, I released him from the chair and told him to take off his underwear and toss it in the bucket beside the door. I warned him that if they landed anywhere but in the bucket, I'd have Saundra make him eat them. He must have believed that threat, because his briefs went into the bucket without hesitation. He didn't like being naked, but he obviously hated the alternative more. When he took his shot, I was ready. I blocked his swing easily. He had no skills or training. He wasn't prepared for the counter. Suddenly Marco was on his knees hugging himself, struggling to breathe again. A short, swift slam with the heel of the hand to the sternum will do that to you. I have to confess: hitting him felt good. Maybe the thought of him screwing Missy came into it. What an asshole! While he was down there, I padlocked a chain to his collar. The other end was stapled to the wall. "Behave yourself dickweed," I told him as I secured the lock. "Or I'll take great pleasure in beating the shit out of you while the ladies watch. Better yet, I'll watch while the ladies beat the shit out of you." Rage colored his glance. Marco was stupid, but he was smart enough at that moment to stay on his knees and keep his big mouth shut. He'd met Saundra. She could probably take him one on one. No doubt she could take him with crop in hand. I was looking forward to his first meeting with Cora, Marti and Maxine. Any one of those ladies would eat his lunch. We left him there with his sandwich and water. The door latched behind us as we moved to Lydia's cell. We spent about two minutes with her. Long enough to unlock her cuffs, remove the gag and hand her the food. Otherwise we ignored her. She opened her mouth to say something, but I pointed before she could get a word out. Cassandra immediately slapped her face. Not as hard as she'd slapped Marco, but it sure sounded like it stung. Lydia was stupefied. I think what really stunned her was the casualness of the blow. Neither Cassandra, nor I showed any emotion. It was as though Cassandra had smacked an irritating insect. We left, latching the door behind, without saying anything. Lydia sat there rubbing her cheek, smolding. Her pride, her power, her position as the Senior Vice President of a major magazine obviously meant less than nothing to us. Her status in the outside world was useless inside that cell. No one had ever treated her with such utter contempt. It infuriated her. It almost made me grin. But grinning would have ruined the effect. We were getting to her in more ways than one. I slipped my arm around Cassandra's waist. She gave me a quick smile, then kissed my cheek. She took my hand as we trooped back up the stairs to rejoin the troops. Maxine had just finished explaining the mission to the gang. She glanced at me, and I took the floor long enough to mention that Marco was out of his chair and chained to the wall naked after having wet his pants, and that we were starting to get to Lydia. I told the group that I thought it important to keep her off balance. She has an image of herself as a VIP. We had to destroy that image. Two out of the three of them had pissed in their pants. I wanted to make it unanimous. Time out. We failed at that part of the mission. Lydia was and is a tough woman. Oh well. We did succeed with the rest. Time in. We talked about the plan for an hour or so while we ate, everyone had suggestions. It was Saundra's idea to give Marco a haircut along with the wax job. As a model, he took a lot of pride in his appearance. The ladies wanted him uglied up a bit. Gwendolyn said she believed it important that we be indifferent to rather than angry with Lydia. She was tough. She could deal with anger. That we appeared to consider her unimportant, maybe the junior partner to Marco, might just get her to talk. Personally, I doubted that. I thought Lydia too intelligent to fall for that nonsense. I kept my doubts to myself. Cassandra picked up on Gwendolyn's comment though. She said that somewhat the same thing might work with Marco. He already knew that we were angry with him, but treating him as the junior partner without the brains to run the operation would kick him right in the male ego bone. She gave me a timid smile and squeezed my hand as she spoke. I returned her smile and told her that, since I didn't have that particular bone, her plan wouldn't bother me in the least. Yeah, right. – that from Maxine, sotto voce. I was thinking it. She said it. We all roared. Shit. They do know me well. After an hour, the teams were set and the programs outlined for the next five days. None of us really thought that it would last that long, but we had to plan for it. Saundra, Marti and Cora would take on Marco; Gwendolyn and Maxine would do Lydia; and Cassandra and I would finish interrogating Wendy. Cora and Marti could move around if they felt like it. Maxine intended to stay with Lydia. We had a short discussion about limits. I grinned at Marti and Cora. "Marco's going to get the shit beat out of him at some point. We all know that. But no permanent damage. You can't castrate him. Tying his dick in a knot is allowed, but I don't think it's long enough. And no kicking his nuts! Leave that to his girlfriends." "Shit James!" Marti complained. "You're gonna take all the fun out of it!…" "Yeah! James…" Cora added. "I was looking forward to seeing how far I could punt those things." My knees twinged at the thought. Yikes! "If he kicks you in the crotch, then his balls are fair game." I said. "Otherwise his family jewels are off limits. Okay?" Both smiled sheepishly and promised to be good. Maxine spoke up. "And the same thing goes for Wendy and Lydia. Everybody leaves here with the same functionality that they came with. Bruises, welts and maybe a decoration or two are okay, but no permanent damage. We aren't the monsters. They are." Everyone agreed to that. Though, that Marti and Cora were going to get some vengeance, I had no doubt. I had one last item that I figured needed to be brought up. I told the ladies that we were going to work the mental angle with the villains, but we would be working the physical angle too. I glanced at Cora and Marti. It was time to throw it on the table for everyone to see. "You all know that those three are guilty of nonconsensual sex. In a word, rape." Everyone got real quiet. Gwendolyn's eyebrows rose. She exchanged glances with Saundra. Maxine nodded her head. Cora looked down at her hands, then back up to my face. Marti sat back with one leg crossed over the other knee. Her foot danced nervously. Only Cassandra was completely calm. It isn't often that a guy has this kind of conversation with six women, four of whom are lesbians and the other two bisexual. To say that I had their attention would be a vast understatement. "That's an ugly word for an ugly act of violence." I went on. "We all despise them for it. But be sure you understand that we may commit the same act. The intent is to make them feel what their victims felt, but that may not be enough of a reason. If you can't handle it, let everyone know now." I looked at Marti and Cora. "I have to say that I'm particularly worried about you two ladies. Cora, you and I met because three guys tried to rape Erin. I'd rather give up on that part of the program than have it affect our relationship. Both of you are too important to me as friends." Cora and Marti nodded. Maxine smiled. She seemed to like the way I was handling the issue. I winked at her and finished my thought. "The way I see it, if Marco and Lydia give it all up before it gets that far, we let it slide. We only use that kind of assault as a last resort. But I would love to see Marco's face just as the tip of the strap-on pokes his asshole." Cora spoke up. It wasn't a topic fit for smiling, but the corners of her mouth did turn up a little bit. "I would too James, Marco and Lydia both. But I like your plan." She said slowly. "Marti and I talked about this together, then talked again with Maxine. We figured that it was the only way to really teach the putz and Fat Ass how bad it is. They obviously got their kicks raping Summer. Add to that, she can't have been the only girl they used. It's way past time they learned what it feels like being the do-ee instead of the do-er." "Cora's right." Marti chimed in. "Everyone I know plays the 'Don't! Stop! Don't stop!' game. That's not it. It ain't about sex. It's about teaching those two assholes that when a girl says 'No!' she means 'No!'." "None of us – I'm including you here too James – likes it…" Maxine said glancing at me. "…but there's no other way to drive that lesson home to those two scumbags." Cora caught my eye again. "Look James." She said seriously. "We all know what kind of guy you are." "The only thing that's changed about how I…" She glanced at Marti. "…how we feel about you is that we've stopped thinking of you as a younger brother. Watching you in action today was pretty amazing. Marti and I talked about it once we got Lydia packed into her cell. It was like watching a James Bond movie." "That's me." I said grinning, then switched to an imitation English accent. "Bond… James Bond. Shaken not stirred…" I held up a can of soda. Maxine plunked me square in the face with a throw pillow. That brought a burst of laughter from the group. Thank you Maxine! That fast, the tension was gone. The taboo subject was out in the open. Somebody had to do it. I'm glad it was me. It seemed right that I be the one to bring it up. That we could be comfortable talking about it made it more likely that we could deal with it. Maybe not comfortably. But we could deal with it. Good group. "I think we covered everything…" Saundra said, smiling as she stood. "Now let's get downstairs. My little boy-toy has a messy floor to clean. Then he'll get a shower. After that, he has a date with the Blue Wax." Saundra was fingering her crop again. Oh boy, Marco you poor bastard! I see tears in your future. Blue Wax. Yeeowch! Marco was not happy to see the door open again. He started cursing at us when he heard the door unlatch. But his voice trailed off to silence when Saundra stalked in. He looked worried when he saw her. But his fear was obvious when Cora, Marti and I followed. He hadn't been conscious to see the larger ladies back at the lake house. He didn't look happy to see them now. I wouldn't either if I was chained to a wall naked and smelling of stale piss, watching a Bitch Goddess and two ladies the size of Cora and Marti walk in the door. Cora set a bucket smelling of disinfectant on the floor within his reach, then stood in front of him with hands on hips. She looked him up and down with disdain. She moved to turn away, then whirled and sucker punched him in the gut. He went to his knees hunched over, gasping for breath. "From now on any time you see me or any of these ladies walk in a room, you get to your knees pronto." She said bitingly. "Understand, asshole?" Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 13 Still stunned, Marco didn't answer. Cora grabbed a fistful of his hair and slapped his face back and forth. "I said, 'Do you understand, asshole?'." Marco didn't have the breath to speak, but he nodded his head, or tried to. Cora still had a handful of his hair. Rage was there in his eyes, but also growing fear. "You've got one more chance, then I'm going to kick the shit out of you." Cora whispered. "Do you understand what I said, asshole?" "Yeah!" Marco finally croaked. "I understand!" Cora backhanded him across the face. "Listen up dickwad! I'm only gonna tell you this once! She's 'Mistress'…" pointing to Saundra. "…and there's another lady dressed just like her that you'll also call 'Mistress'. But from now on, all the rest of us women are 'Ma'am' to you. Got it?!" She punctuated her instructions with another slap across the face. My pal Marco is a stupid putz, but he seemed to learn that lesson quickly. He nodded, though his neck was purple with anger. His fury overtook his fear. "Yes Ma'am." He said, biting off each word. "I understand." "Good." She said, releasing his hair and standing back. "So a month from now when you see me walk into a bar, and your there comin' on to some young chick, playing the big man and hopin' to get into her panties, whatcha gonna do, dillhole?" Rage doesn't begin to describe his expression. "I'm going to get to my knees…" Marco managed to choke out through clenched teeth. "… Ma'am!" He barely beat yet another slap. Cora had been winding up. Marti moved behind him. He turned his head to watch her. Big mistake. Cora smacked him in the face again. "I'm talkin' to you asshole." She shouted. "Don't look at her, look at me!" Marco's mouth was bleeding again. The left side of his face was red with the mark of Cora's handprint. "Now I for one don't believe you." She said, her voice moderated. "You say that you'll get to your knees when you see me come into a bar. But I think you're lying to me, just like you lie to all women." She stepped back and gestured to Saundra. "So here's what we're gonna do. My friend Mistress Saundra here is going to have you do a few chores. Then we're gonna give you a shower to wash the piss off of you. Then she's gonna make you a little more presentable for us. Ever heard of Blue Wax, asshole? After that, we're gonna play some fun games. Games that you like to play with women." "Yeah, dickface." He jumped as Marti spoke up from behind his back. He started to turn, but thought better of it. Too bad. Marti smacked him across the back of the head. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" She shouted. Marco cringed, not knowing which way to turn. He finally peered over his shoulder, while trying to keep Cora in sight. "Later we're gonna play the date-rape game with you." Marti hissed. "You know how to play that, don't you? You say 'No!' and we fuck you anyway. It's gonna be lots of fun. We know you like to fuck girl's in the ass. Maybe you'll like it when we take your cherry." Marco looked like he was going to take his chances fighting. He'd started to get up. He got out "No fucking way…" before Cora punched him in the kidney. Down he went to his knees again, his back arching, his face distorted with pain. "Nobody gave you permission to get up, asshole!" Marti screamed into his face, then smacked him again. "…and that's for not saying 'Ma'am' dickhead." "Then tomorrow…" Cora continued calmly. Marco's head turned painfully to face her. "…we're gonna work you over again for a while. We're gonna keep at it until you make us believe that you're telling the truth." "You lie…" Marti again. Marco turned his face to hers. His neck must have been aching as much as his kidneys by that time. "…and we beat on you. It's that simple. Your problem is that you have to convince us that you're telling the truth. And we know that you're a lying sack-o-shit. So you've got a pretty freakin' big problem on your hands, don't you asshole." "A major problem I'd say…" Cora added. Marco turned quickly to face her. "…since I for one am not likely to believe anything you say…" Marco groaned, his back arching again as Marti punched him in the kidney again. "'Betcha ten bucks this pudknocker's gonna be pissin' blood later today." Marti added to Cora. Hearing her voice, Marco started to turn towards her, and got slapped in the face for his pains. "I wasn't talking to you needle dick." She screamed. Cora smacked the back of his head. "Pay attention fuckface! Didn't I tell you to look at me when I'm talking to you!? What? D'ya like to be smacked around? Or are you just a stupid Sonovabitch?" Marco whirled to face Cora again. His face met her hand swinging in the opposite direction. She about took his head off. Tears welled in his eyes from the force of the slap. "Oh look!" Cora crooned. "Mistress Saundra's little man is crying again! Poor baby! Does 'em want his 'ittle blanky?" Marco shook the tears away, red-faced and glaring. Cora smacked him upside the head again for that bit of defiance. "Whatsamatter cupcake?" Marti asked sweetly. Marco turned to her quickly. "Can't take it? D'ya think we're gonna feel sorry for you? Not happ'nin' dipstick! We're just getting' started." "We know you get your kicks outta raping helpless little girls…" Cora added as Marco turned back. "…well we get our kicks outta raping bad little boys like you. It's about time you learned what it feels like to be held down and reamed in the ass while you cry and beg for mercy." Horror flashed across Marco's face. He was not liking that idea one bit. "Now…" Marti again. Marco turned back to her. "…it's time for a few lessons from Mistress Saundra. You remember her don't you? She's the one that made you wet your pants and cry like a baby." Marco's face flamed with humiliation. He looked like he was going to take his chances again, but screamed and stumbled forward on his hands and knees instead when Saundra lashed his ass with her crop. Quick as a snake striking, her crop slashed his vulnerable ass again. Marco fell forward onto his face. Before he could move to protect himself, the crop lashed his bare ass a third time. He howled curses as unwilling tears of pain welled in his eyes. "Our little baby boy is crying again." Cora's voice was cruel. Marco curled himself into a ball, hands covering his nuts. He was desperate to protect himself, but he couldn't cover everything. Cora slammed her fist into his other kidney, straightening him out. Marti took the opportunity to grab a handful of hair and lift his head. Tears of pain and rage trickled down his cheeks and she slapped him back and forth a couple of times. His chin bounced off the cold stone floor when she released her grip. Saundra took over, laying three stripes across his back as fast as her crop could fly. Whit, whit, whit. Marco was howling curses again. "Shut the fuck up you big baby!" Cora screamed. "To bad your girlfriends can't see you now, whimpering like a little kid who lost his toy…" "We haven't even begun to hurt you yet…" Marti added from the other side. "…and you're screamin' like we cut off your dick." That got Marco's attention. "Oh Jesus!" He moaned. "Ma'am… Don't…" "I said shut the fuck up you putz!" Cora shouted. "No one's gonna take your little weiner… Yet! We're saving that for later. Ya gotta sleep sometime..." That was my cue. Something told me that my boy Marco wouldn't get much sleep that night. He'd hear every sound, just waiting for a knife to appear. I stepped forward while the ladies stood surrounding his prone body. Crouching down beside his face, I reached out to rap my knuckles against his head. "Are you still with us there dickweed?" I asked. He peered up at me, still holding his package. His face was flushed from embarrassment and the beating he'd been taking. He'd rather have died than have me see the tears on his cheeks. Tough shit. "I was right…" I told him softly. "…watching the ladies kick the shit out of you is more fun than doing it myself. They're pretty good at it too, don't you think?" "My friend here is right too." I continued, gesturing at Cora. "All you have to do to stop the pain is tell us the truth about everything. We know that you're just the bagman, the gofer with the stiff dick that your boss Lydia uses for relief occasionally. Not much more than that. But you know things that we can use to break her…" That pissed him off. "Fuck that shit!" He blazed. "That cunt couldn't cross the street without help. I set up the cocaine deal, the girls, the parties and that thing with the fashion houses were all my id…" He stopped, too late remembering where he was and to whom he was talking. I looked skeptical. "Horseshit dickweed! We know better." I said shaking my head. "She's the deal-maker. The mover. We know that. She just made you think you had those ideas, you putz. You're just the comic relief with a convenient stiffy, and we know you're not even good at that. We've seen you in action." Marco's face flamed. His rage was monstrous, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about the insult. Not with me Cora and Marti just itching for an excuse to beat him; not to mention Saundra and her riding crop. I smiled at his predicament. Poor putz. "Now all you've got to do is tell us everything you know: where the money is, who your connections are, what you know about her plans. Everything." I moved to get up. As I turned away, I said "You tell us everything you know about her plans, from the cash – we're gonna get that cash – to the tapes you have of the action with Veronica at the townhouse." Uneasyness replaced rage in his eyes. We weren't supposed to know about that. I caught the look, and turned back. "Listen Homer." I said patiently. "We're not stupid. We don't think Lydia is either. If I was smart enough to bug that place, it's obvious that she did too. I want what she's got." I turned away dismissively. "The only thing you have to worry about is to tell us everything. Make us believe it. Easy..." I signaled to Saundra. "…but until then, it's beat on Marco time, and everyone gets to play. Your turn Mistress Saundra." Marco looked horrified. "Jesus! Watta ya wanna know? I'll tell ya everything… Anything! Just call her off… Call them off!" I smiled sorrowfully and shook my head. "You don't get it, do you? Right now, we don't believe a word you have to say. You'd say anything to get these ladies off your back. You don't really believe yet. You will eventually. Besides, no one here thinks that you've suffered enough yet. Not nearly as much as you've made Summer and her family suffer." Then he muffled a screech as Saundra lashed his bare ass with her crop. I stood back again to watch her work. "There are so many painful things I'd love to do to you now little man…" Saundra whispered menacingly. "But it's time to put you to work cleaning up after yourself." She pointed at the bucket with her crop. "Get busy scrubbing your piss off of my floor." He started to get to his feet. Big mistake. Cora took a step toward him, but Saundra was faster with her crop. WHIT! Marco was howling again. "I did not tell you that you could get up!" Saundra said coldly. "Until I tell you differently, you will stay on your knees. If I see you standing without my permission, I will punish you severely. Thus far, I have been lenient with you. Do not make me angry." The look on his face almost made me laugh. I could almost hear Marco thinking. Jesus! If this is lenient, I do not want to see severe! Marti and Cora couldn't help themselves. But their laughter held more than a hint of cruelty. Marco flushed again. He started to crawl painfully toward the bucket, but apparently Saundra wasn't satisfied with his speed. She helped him along with a lash across his ass, barely missing his balls. That got him moving. Something told me – and probably him too – that no matter how fast he moved to obey her orders, she would find an excuse to use her crop. But he scooted anyway. Soon Marco was scrubbing the floor with his underwear. Cora and Marti were pointing out spots that he'd missed, while Saundra urged him along with the tip off her crop. His nutsack dangled between his legs, swinging back and forth as he worked. It was an inviting target. I hoped for his sake no one would take advantage. While they kept him busy, I slipped out to check on Lydia. As I closed the door Marco let out an agonized howl. Apparently the target had been too inviting. Poor schmuck. Marco hated the Blue Wax, but he hated Saundra's riding crop more. But it was the stocks and, especially, Saundra's strap-on that did it for him. One look at Saundra wearing the harness and greasing the dildo was way 'nough. I'm certain that he was bent over naked with his neck and wrists locked in the stocks and his ankles cuffed to a yard-wide spreader bar had something to do with it. Oh he tried to hold out at the very end, but when Saundra stepped up behind, grabbed him by the hips and he felt the dildo nosing his asshole, Marco broke completely. He was shouting out the numbers of his bank accounts, PIN numbers and the combination to his safe faster than Saundra's crop could fly. He even gave us the details of the next cocaine shipment, and his connections down south, as well as his part in the abuse of Summer Mathews. We got it all on video when he was dressed again and sitting upstairs. He did look a little bit spooked as he was telling the tale. It may have had something to do with his new haircut: he looked like he'd been shorn with a weedwhacker. It also could have been that Saundra, Marti and Cora were standing behind the camera watching. Marti was cracking her knuckles. Cora was cleaning her fingernails with a rather large gutting knife. Saundra was flexing her riding crop. On reflection, it was probably the latter. Marco could grow new hair. Other things don't grow so well. Wendy was easy. I think the session at the café had convinced her. The wax job wasn't really necessary, other than to fulfill our promise of punishment. She didn't need much more to convince her. Oh Saundra took a few minutes away from the putz to demonstrate her expertice with the riding crop; and Wendy did get bent over my lap to get her bottom spanked. But both were done more to fulfill promises rather than because she needed the convincing. Besides, I realized early that Tinkerbelle was getting into the B&D scene. In the end, Wendy gave us complete details of the parties and the cocaine deals, what she knew of them anyway. She also gave us the time and place of the next delivery, which happened to be due later that week. Lydia was a bit harder, but Gwendolyn and especially Maxine got to her in the end. Both were ruthless. Between Gwendolyn's whip and Maxine's strap-on, Lydia took a whole lot of abuse. She was the only one of the three that took more than threats. But in the end, I think it was the thought of actually going to jail that did it. I can hear Maxine now: Yeah Lydia baby go ahead, release the vids to the tabloids. That's no sweat off my pussy. Veronica Hart will be pissed, but I don't know the bitch anyway, but from what I hear, it serves her right. James does kinda like her daughter Missy though. Don't really want to see that girl hurt. So just remember, the minute that stuff becomes public, our stuff goes directly to the DA. That means Assault, Aggravated Rape, Reckless Endangerment, Conspiracy, Attempted Extortion – of Veronica; by that point she will be happy to help put you away – Extortion (that's the cash from the Fashion Houses), Receiving and Distributing a Contolled Substance… Shit Lydia, the list goes on and on. I bet the Feds and the IRS will want to get involved. Hhhmm. Federal prison, shit that's hard time. Just imagine how much fun the cell blocks will be. Wanna bet Big Mavis and her posse'll have you on your knees eating pussy and reaming your ass and cunt before your first day is done? I'd say you wouldn't last a week, especially when those guys down south find out and think that you might give them up. Shit, there are ladies inside that would be happy to take razor blades to your face, then fuck you to death for a pack of smokes let alone a couple ounces of shit smuggled in to them. Wanna bet that Summer's family hits you with a civil suit too? And how 'bout those Fashion Houses? Now their out of business and they have you to thank. Those people are bound to be after you in court. Even if by some miracle you keep your Fat Ass – got that one straight from your pals Marco the Putz and little Wendy Tinkerbelle – out of prison, where ya gonna work now sweetcheeks? I hear there's an Escort Service down on the Avenue looking for girls. We already know that you swing both ways. How 'bout it, suck a few cocks; eat a little pussy. I'll be glad to pimp you out for say, eighty percent of the take. Who knows, ya might clear a couple a' hundred a night selling your tail, particularly after we release a that vid showing you fucking and sucking Marco. You'll be very much in demand. Meanwhile you'll be my bitch. I just love to get a naked girl on her knees lickin' my pussy. Mmh Mmmm honey, you'll be perfect as my sweet little fucktoy. I got a strap-on just your size. 'Course you'll probably never see your daughter again. I'd bet her father would see to that. Might even give him some help in that regard. His own copy of the unedited disc. I'd bet that the Family Court Judge would love to see you on your knees, suckin' Marco's dick and talking about making Missy lick your cunt while she gets raped in the ass. Yeah, Judge Judy'll love that one… Meanwhile why don't we give you a taste of it. Let's get those pretty little panties down, shall we sweetcheeks. That's it bend her over that table. That's my good little bitch. Here's a little lube for ya, just stick out that cute ass and say 'Ahh'. That's it. Oohh yeah, nice an' tight for me! Ya ready? No? Tough shit babe, here it comes!… Oh quit squealin'! You'll get used to a strap-on in your ass by the time the other ladies finish with you cupcake. In fact, Marti and Cora want to do a triple with you, won't that be fun. Guess who gets to be the creamy fillin' in an all girl sandwich sweetmeat… But before that happens, Mistress Gwendolyn here gets her turn next. She can't wait to test drive your tongue. She's really lookin' forward to ridin' your face. 'Course she never rides without the right tack. That lady always has her riding crop handy for those headstrong fillies that give her trouble… Brrrrrrr! Maxine can be persuasive. She even persuaded me to take a shot at Lydia. Maxine took a couple hours off to play with Wendy the second evening after Cora and Marti had gone home. Maxine had spent the first night with Lydia. Well, Maxine and her strap-on. The second night, she felt Lydia needed a shock so we traded. Wendy and was very good to Maxine. Cassandra help make that a certainty. Maxine was limp by the time she finished. Meanwhile, Maxine left Lydia between Gwendolyn and me, except Lydia wasn't clued into the trade. When I walked in her cell, Gwendolyn was ensconced in a comfortable chair. Lydia was kneeling with her arms strapped together behind her back and her face between Gwendolyn's thighs. Gwendolyn's eyes lit up when she saw me enter, Mr Snake standing tall and leading the way. The aroma of fresh pussy was in the air. "Oh dear, Lydia," Gwendolyn murmured in the husky voice of hers. "Here comes another of those big tools you dislike so much. Better prepare yourself. This one is larger than most." I think Lydia expected another bout with Maxine's strap-on when she heard the door close at her back. She mewed sorrowfully when felt someone kneel behind and clutch her hips. But boy was she surprised to hear my voice in her ear as Mr Snake surged through the lips of her freshly plucked pussy! Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 14 This is the twenty-third installment of Mrs. Hart’s Ache Chapter XIV Operation Mama: let the games begin ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author’s note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Missy and Miriam are off on their summer adventures. Now comes the time for which James has been waiting… Anticipating… Plan One: Operation Mama is a go. James has one hundred days in which to teach Veronica Hart some manners. He’s eager to start and Veronica gives him his opening. It’s so easy when the lady is a bitch. Follow along as Mrs Hart learns the true definition of the words Dominant, Submission… …and Retribution. Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XIV Operation Mama: let the games begin ‘…it was way past time for a little R&R. That’s Revenge and Retribution, by the way.…’ Veronica Hart does so like to be spanked. She just hates it when it is me doing the spanking. Makes her wet though. Ten days later, I was at the airport again. That time I was in the British Airways First Class Lounge to see Missy and Miriam off. They were flying together direct to Heathrow before separating: Missy to the museum in Firenza and Miriam to her relatives in Tralee. Missy gave me a toe-curling kiss and told me to have a great Summer. Miriam gave me an affectionate hug, with a whispered warning to remember our deal. She winked when she pulled back. There was that Irish twinkle in her eye again. Time out. Miriam had promised to break my arm if I hurt her baby. See Chapter two. Miriam was telling me to mind my P’s & Q’s. Oh she would be so not happy if she knew what I had planned. Oh well. Boinking the bejezus out of Missy’s mother – Miriam’s employer – all summer long was worth a broken arm. Maybe even two. Mr Snake was ready for it. Time in. Missy and Miriam both appreciated the effort on my part to see them off, but then would: they liked me. Mrs Hart did not. She was there too, of course. I think Mr Hart was in Tokyo that week, though apparently he had plans to spend a couple of days in Florence with Missy later that summer. Her mother and I watched Missy and Miriam go through security, then with a last wave, disappear into the crowd arm-in-arm, moving towards their gate. Mrs Hart turned to me with a smug look. “Well ‘Jimmy’…” (Missy must have mentioned how much I dislike that diminutive) “…with my daughter half a world away at least I don’t have to be concerned with you for the next three months, possibly forever. With luck, by September when she returns she will have lost her infatuation with you. Now, if you don’t mind, I have much more important things to do than stand here conversing with you: I have meeting scheduled.” My return smile was guileless. “Yes Veronica…” Her face darkened. She did so not like me, a mere pleb, using her first name; daring to be so familiar. “…I’m certain that urgent meeting of yours is important. But it wouldn’t happen to be at the townhouse, would it? I fear that your boytoy Marco is indisposed this afternoon. Actually, he is indisposed for the next, well, for the next forever. I believe that, whether you know it or not, you’re in the market for a new playmate; a new ‘top’” Astonishment. Veronica’s eyes widened at the mention of the townhouse. Her face went pale beneath her makeup when I said Marco’s name. She sat down abruptly when she heard ‘top’. I took the seat next to her. Stunned, Veronica merely watched as I pulled a jewel case from my jacket and held it up. A disc was visible through the plastic case. “This contains a few outtakes from a couple of your recent ‘meetings’ with that putz. At some point, I plan to tell you how I happen to have the recordings in my possession. Until then, you will just have to trust that I control all of them.” I took her unresisting hand. “Now you were saying something about the next three months. I hate to contradict you, but I fear that we will be seeing a lot of each other over the summer. Despite what I think of you, I’m not one to leave a lady bereft. Now why don’t we adjourn to a more private setting, say, the townhouse. You are looking a might pale. A strong drink would do you good ‘Ronnie’.” Despite her shock of my pronouncement, Veronica flushed. Rage flashed in her eyes. She snatched her hand away. “Do not call me that you – .” “Tut tut, my dear Mrs Hart,” I interrupted unctuously, waving the disc. “Mind your manners. You do not want to anger me more than I am already.” My gaze hardened along with my voice. “You’ve been a major pain in my ass since the day we met. I put up with it because you are Missy’s mother. At that point in our relationship, you were free to take any shot at me personally any time you cared to do so. That’s okay. I’ve got broad shoulders. You’re her mother. You have the right to disapprove of your daughter’s friends if you so choose.” I let some of my rage spill into my eyes. Finally concerned and probably a bit frightened, Veronica looked around, relieved I think because of the other people there. But her eyes were drawn back to the jewel case and the disc it contained. “As far as I’m concerned, you no longer have the right to take shots at anyone. When you insulted mom, you crossed the line. For that you will pay, and pay dearly.” Uncertainty shaded her light grey eyes. I took her hand again and pulled her to her feet. She didn’t like it, but she also didn’t pull her hand away. I folded her arm through mine, then led her toward the exit. “Now you are going to do exactly as I say, or discs like this will find their way to all manner of places. I have a few things to explain to you. That will take some time. I believe that you would rather hear these things in a more private setting. If that is not true, I’m prepared to begin here and now. Choose.” An hour later we were in the townhouse. It turned out that she did indeed have a senior staff meeting scheduled at the magazine, but called in to cancel. Despite her demeanor, I knew she was desperate to hear what I had to say. At my ‘suggestion’, Veronica dismissed Adams, her chauffeur and rode with me in the Miata. The top was down, making conversation difficult, but I think she preferred to remain silent anyway. Questions were stacking up behind her eyes, but she kept her cool. Tough broad. I played some Billy Holiday for her, but I don’t think she appreciated the effort. I let her proceed me into the townhouse. She used her key. I carried my laptop. Once the door closed, she made directly for the bar to fashion herself a Stoly Elit on the rocks in a crystal tumbler the size of a beaker. She flipped her glasses back, nestled in her hair, then began asking questions and demanding answers while she poured. I ignored her to boot the laptop and load the disc. She sat down abruptly when the first scene flashed on the screen. While ‘Veronica’s Greatest Hits’ played, I poured myself a Guinness and went into the bedroom. I left her sitting at the bar, stricken, watching the screen with her fingers pressed to her face. I had started the show with a scene of her sucking Marco’s cock while diddling herself. Then there was a scene featuring her stretched over the back of a chair naked begging to be whipped. The third showed her tied to the bed, arms outstretched, and her ankles secured to either side of her head. Marco knelt there, then abruptly plugged her ass with his erect cock while she whimpered. There were a couple more. While she watched, she was taking long pulls at the Stolichnaya. By the time she caught up with me, I had finished the Guinness. I sat in a comfortable club chair facing the doorway stroking my chin with an index finger. The concealed door to her ‘toys’ was open behind my back. A riding crop, a rattan cane and a leather paddle lay fanned across the bed beside. Knees suddenly weak, her eyes uncertain, Veronica grasped the doorframe for support. I locked eyes with her, then slowly flipped my hand to point to the floor at my feet. Time out. Cool, calm, collected. Directing dispassionately without histrionics or emotion: my entire presentation was one of dominance, as though there was no question that I expected to be obeyed. Between you and me, I don’t think Mrs Hart had ever met a true Dom. But there was no doubt that she recognized one when she saw the real thing. Confidence, my man, confidence. You don’t need to be loud, insulting or overbearing. Understated confidence is the key. Time in. Veronica’s face flamed, but her eyes never left mine. Her eyes hardened. Mine were blank: cops eyes. You could almost feel the clash of wills as we stared at one another. No words were spoken; none were needed. There was no sound but for the whisper of the air conditioning kicking in. After an age, she blinked. I’d won. I gestured to the floor again. Veronica released her hold, lurched, then drew herself together, shoulders back and head high. She bent to place her tumbler on the bedstand. With unconscious grace, she stalked forward slowly to stand upon the spot indicated. She looked down upon me with unforgiving eyes. Her color was still high. I let her have her moment, then motioned down. With all the aplomb she could muster, she slowly dipped to her knees before me. I gestured again, waving her forward. Revulsion flashed in her eyes before anger returned. The spots on her cheeks bloomed again, but she walked forward on her knees until she knelt between my legs. There she sat back on her heels and looked up to me. Her nostrils flared with each shallow breath. Her lips were drawn to a thin line. Her face had paled with a lingering blush as high point upon her cheeks. Mrs Hart was wearing yet another designer dress that day, a simple halter jersey of patterned silk that cost more than a months pay for most people. Large flowers bloomed across the fabric. The halter left bare her shoulders and the deep vee of her décolletage. Her breath caught; her eyes grew wide – wild – as I reached to the nape of her neck to unfasten the halter. She moved to block me, but I caught her hands in mine. She struggled against my grip for a moment, then slowly ceased. When she was still again, I pulled her arms down to her sides. I held them there for an instant, then reached to the halter again. All the while we’d silently stared into each other’s eyes. Her breathing quickened, but she made no further move to stop me, even as the neckline parted and I let the bodice fall from her chest. Veronica Hart favors designer clothing. I think I’ve made that clear. Her lingerie is no different. That day she wore a rather risqué silk balconet halter bra with the fastener set between her full breasts. The three-quarter cups were semi-sheer black lace. The lace cradled her full breasts, holding each up and out as though in offering to me. Caught in the emotion of the moment, her nipples were coral gumdrops embossing the cups. Her blush deepened across her cheeks, then filtered down to the tops of her breasts: Veronica was humiliated, and she was hating it. To complete her humiliation, I reached to her right breast. Her breath caught again as I unhooked the halter strap. Her eyes were blazing; her anger palpable, as I opened the fastener set between her breasts, then let the bra fall behind. Very nice chochos Veronica! Full, pear-shaped, immaculate; her D-cup breasts sat high on her chest. Each was capped with a silver-dollar-sized areola that protruded upwards from the white flesh. Her berry-brown nipples stood out, crinkled to fat points as though offering themselves to my lips. Tanlines curved up and across each, just above her areolae. Mrs Hart’s naked breasts quivered, bobbing slightly with each panting breath. She made no move to cover herself, rather her shoulders flicked back, raising her chest to display her balangas proudly. My expression never changed. Cool and detached, I looked into her eyes as I cupped her lovlies and gently thumbed those incredible nipples. Mrs Hart was hating that. “If you ever again move to stop me from touching you, I will secure your wrists, then whip you.” I affirmed quietly. “Do you understand, Mrs Hart?” Her blush deepened. Her eyes were daggers. “You will do no such thi-!“ To her utter amazement, I reached out to flick the tips of my fingers across her cheek. I’d bet my college fund that was the first time Veronica had been slapped since she was a child. At that moment, she was too dumfounded to be angry. Absently, she reached to rub the sting from her cheek. “Yes. I will.” I said in an even voice. “You will obey me. You can imagine the consequences if you do not.” All sorts of horror and fear flashed through her eyes. The slap was forgotten. The disc. The discs! Where were they; what was on them; how had I gotten them; what had I seen; what would I do with them. Her imagination was vivid. In the end, doubt lingered. Lingered. Finally died. Acquiescence and surrender remained. “I have a series of rules for you,” I informed her coolly. “I will lay them out for you soon, but first you have a task to perform. Then, I have one. We will get to each in turn. Yours begins now.” I gestured down. “Your breasts are bare, you are kneeling before me. It is time to atone for your actions against me and mine.” I gestured again. “Suck my cock Mrs Hart.” Rage flashed again, through tears welling, then something new, something buried quickly lest I see. She was desperate that I not know. Too late Veronica. I know your dirty little secret, Mrs Hart. You want this; you need this; you’ve prayed for this: Surrender and Submission. I am your most depraved dream. Little do you know where I will lead, but you will follow, won’t you Veronica. Not for my pleasure. Not because of my threats. But because you must. It is your drug. You are addicted. I will be your source; your new pusher. You just hate that it is me providing it for you, don’t you my dear Mrs Hart. She read the truth in my eyes. Her gaze dropped to my lap. Tears glistened on her lashes, but none fell. She wouldn’t let me see her cry. She knelt there, sitting on her heels with her arms at her sides for a moment more, then reached to my waist to unbuckle my belt. The buckle tinkled faintly. The zipper was loud in the silence of the room. She glanced at my face a last time, then opened my jeans. I’d omitted boxers that day, anticipating exactly the scene as portrayed. The tails of my shirt covered my groin. Veronica swept them to either side, then swayed back in shock. I caught her arms to draw her near again. Mr Snake stood tall before her wide eyes, straining against my belly. Instant menace with a bulbous crown peeking from beneath his foreskin. A drop of seminal fluid pooled at the slit. Surely more meat than Mrs Hart ever had seen in one serving. I combed my fingers through the long auburn hair framing her face to either side, then gently urged her head forward and down until her soft lips met the bursting head of my dick in an obscene kiss. Her naked breasts pressed against my thighs. Veronica’s eyes closed. Her tongue slipped out to taste me for the first time. The clear fluid from my cock smeared along her upper lip. With no further urging, her mouth opened wide. An instant before she took me inside, I spoke. “Look at me, Mrs Hart.” I demanded softly. “I want to see your eyes as you suck the sperm from my cock. Then you will swallow all of it. Miss one drop and you will be punished” Her eyes flickered up to peer from beneath her brow. An unconscious shudder ran through her frame. Her naked breasts quivered. If I’d touched her pussy at that moment, I knew I’d find her clit engorged; her nether lips slippery wet. Veronica reached up to capture my shaft in her soft hands. A whimper etched from her throat as she pressed the bursting head through her lips and into the moist warmth of her mouth. I held her head loosely as she sucked at the glans. Her agile tongue dipped and played, teasing my foreskin down from the head. Suddenly aggressive, Veronica gave me everything she had. Her head bobbed as she worked my cock. We both knew that if she was destined to lose, she was going down in style. I have to say, that afternoon in the townhouse, Veronica Hart gave me the absolute best blowjob of my life. Her tongue and lips – even her teeth – were everywhere: licking and kissing and nibbling. Taking me to the edge, then back again, her head bobbing as she sucked. She worked me like that for at least a half hour, not once using her hands other than to hold and direct. No pumping allowed: her rule, not mine. She sucked at my scrotum, leaving lipstick butterflies over my sac. She took my nuts each into the warmth of her mouth, gently teasing my testicles with her agile tongue. She licked the throbbing shaft, and nibbled at the crown. Her tongue teased, feathering lightly, demanding with broad strokes or tapering to a sharp point to delve into the slit tasting. It took her effort, some time and infinite patience, but she finally managed to swallow my cock and massage the shaft with the muscles of her throat. All without once gagging. Her willpower over that natural response was incredible. All the while our eyes remained locked: battling again. If anything, the look in her eyes made the whole experience that much more exciting: anger and need warred there. With her lips pulling at the base of my cock, her tongue slithering along the shaft and her fingertips teasing beneath my nuts, I finally lost it. With a guttural roar, I pulled her head tight to my groin, driving my dick deep into her throat. I shuddered helplessly as the cum erupted from my nuts. Five or more times my shaft pulsed against the walls of her throat as I shot ropes of sperm down her gullet. She won that round. My eyes broke contact with hers as they rolled back in my head. I held her head tightly as the last dribbles spewed forth. I clutched her head for an instant more straining. When the last of the wave passed through, I slowly loosened my grip, finally allowing her to pull back. My cock slipped from her throat, but she must have believed my promise. She gasped a couple of times, drawing breath into her tortured lungs, then began licking the remnants of my spend from Mr Snake’s wilting shaft. She didn’t miss a drop. When Mr Snake was clean and glistening with her saliva, she sat back on her heels and swallowed ostentatiously. I’m almost sure that she didn’t like it, but she wasn’t about to let me know for certain. For me, the most telling clue was that she’d never once swallowed Marco’s spend unless she was forced. If he forgot to order it, invariably she spit it out. Veronica Hart gives stupendous head. Without a doubt, the best I’ve ever had. I’ll never know whether it would have been better if she liked me, or I got the best she had just because she hated me so and wanted me to know what I’d be missing when she was gone. It took me a couple of minutes to recover. She sat there on her heels watching, her hands in her lap. That her breasts were still bare didn’t seem to bother her. A soft smile played upon her lips belying the steel in her gaze. Oh well. I thought. Time for the next lesson. I gestured toward the bed. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 14 “Which of those would you prefer I use to discipline you, Mrs Hart? The paddle, the cane or the riding crop?” Surprise bloomed across her features. I think she thought the ordeal was over after she’d blown me. Not happenin’ Veronica. You have a long way to go. “Which one, Mrs Hart?” I pressed. Veronica swallowed hard, then whispered “The paddle.” I pointed to the desk in front of the window. The drapes were drawn, but the sheers closed. “Make yourself as comfortable as possible over the desk. Spread your feet about eighteen inches apart. Grasp the far edge. Do not let go. If you disobey, I will tie your hands in place. Now do it.” Moving slowly as if in shock, Veronica rose to her feet. She draped herself across the desk resting on her forearms, then spread her feet. Her bare breasts swayed minutely with each movement. Her nipples puckered, brushing the cool, slick surface of the desk. Her ass was raised, presented slightly higher than her shoulders. She glanced over her shoulder once to look in my eyes, then away again as quickly. A shudder ran through her prostrate body. The flesh of her heavy breasts rippled in reaction. I stood to adjust my clothes and buckle my belt, then moved behind. Judging her position, I nudged her feet a couple of inches farther apart. “Remember this position. In the future, I do not expect to be forced to place you properly.” A flush crept over her cheeks, but she maintained her silence, even as I raised the hem of her dress behind and folded it over her back. Gorgeous ass, but… …but, I found her heart-shaped ass encased in pantihose. How mundane. Sheer pantihose, to be sure, but not quite what I expected from the kinky Veronica of the vids. Time out. Admittedly pantihose can be very sexy. It’s just that I was not in the mood to deal with a pair at that moment. Oh well, part of the plan was to allow her to get her YaYa’s too. Tearing off her pantihose and panties would help do that. Time in. Her legs flexed, her ass clenched at the unveiling. Beneath the sheer nylon she wore a rather nice black lace thong which matched her bra. Too bad that that thong would not survive the encounter. I ran a hand over her proffered butt, The crotch of her pantihose centered over the bulge of her pussy was damp and slick. I smiled, then took the scissors from the desk set. Veronica mewed once, shuddering at my touch. At that moment, whether in anticipation or terror, I don’t think even she could say. She remained silent – trembling, but silent – as I tore open her pantihose and cut away those designer panties. Whoops! There goes a benjamin into the trash. Mrs Hart – Veronica – has a very nice ass. Her knees gave slightly, her ass dipping, when I ran my hands over the firm and lightly tanned globes of her bare butt. Obviously Veronica wears a rather dramatic bikini when sunbathing. Smack! A sudden yip was forced from her throat. “Do not move. Do not speak. Keep your knees locked. If you must scream, please feel free. We both know that this place is soundproof.” I said firmly as I finished my inspection. Her knuckles whitened as I ran gentle fingers down between her thighs. Her matted pussyhair was slippery wet along the divide of her sex. We’d take care of that mess later. I stepped back slightly and selected my choice of implement from the bed. She’d chosen the paddle. I gave her the cane. “I have a few rules for you before I start: “One: today is day one. On day one hundred and one I will give you the discs I’ve collected and all the evidence of your obsession then walk away. You will be completely free, though I will continue to see your daughter if she and I so choose. You will not interfere. “Two: you are mine to do with as I will for that period. Make a list of commitments you have in that time. We will discuss each and decide whether it is unavoidable. There will be time for you, and time for me, and time together. I will decide each. “Three: when we are together, you will address me as ‘Sir’, unless I tell you otherwise. I want to hear ‘Sir’ at least once every time you open your mouth. You will always treat me with the utmost respect. I do not expect you to be happy, but I do expect and require that you appear happy. You will be charming at all times, particularly if there are others present. “Four: I don’t know what kind of birth control you practice, or even whether you need it, nor to I care. If you do need it, it is your responsibility. However, your chosen method is not to inconvenience me in any way. You are to be ready for me to make use of your body in any way I so chose at any time. “I repeat: Any way at anytime. “Five: our relationship is to remain secret. I may decide to take you certain places, but your identify will be protected. No one is to know of us, unless I decide. Currently there are a few others who know. I trust them to keep the secret. So will you. The public will never know as long as you obey my rules. “Six: your ‘safe’ word is your name; if you say ‘Veronica’, the session will stop until we discuss it. If I decide your excuse is frivolous, you will be punished. “Seven: always dress with me in mind. For the next one hundred days you will not wear pantihose, unless I so direct. Stockings, whether stayups or with garters, are de rigueur. You may wear panties and a bra unless I say otherwise. You may not wear slacks or pants of any kind. You may wear shorts occasionally, but I prefer skirts. “Remember, you are to dress for my viewing pleasure. That goes for your lingerie in particular. I expect variety. But if I don’t like it, you’ll lose it – immediately. Think about this every morning before you step into your panties: ‘do I really want to walk around naked beneath my dress today?’ “Eight: (I laid the cane across the quivering cheeks of her ass) you do not get to choose the method, mode or implement of punishment. Never. That is a privilege I reserve for myself. “Do you understand these rules?” Veronica had laid her forehead against the cool wood surface of the desk. Eyes closed, she whispered a barely audible “Yes… Sir” “Then we begin,” I answered softly. Time out. If you haven’t guessed already, Veronica was not presenting herself like that because I had the goods on her. Oh, she had come with me to the townhouse for that reason, but she did not take that thrashing for any other reason than her own gratification. To a certain extent, I was the answer to her prayers. She needed to give someone else control. That was her kink. Time in. I raised the cane high. “Count each stroke. If you miss counting, that stroke will be repeated. I will decide when you have had enough.” Even though I had warned her, the first stroke came as a surprise. Veronica moaned; her ass dipped again as her knees flinched inward. Flesh rippling in reaction, her naked breasts danced upon her chest. Her hands were claws gripping the far edge of the desk, knuckles white. Centered across the fleshiest areas of her asscheeks, the cane left a whitish stripe; the knuckles of the cane were particularly cruel. As I pulled back for the second blow, those stripes flushed sudden red. Perfect: not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a mark that would last a week. “Ooohh-one Sir,” she whimpered in agony. “I told you to keep your knees locked,” I said sternly. “Do not make me tell you again.” The second stroke landed just as her ass rose into position. “Aaaahhht-t-two Sir!” Her arms jerked, but her knees stayed locked. Her legs trembled with the effort to remain still. She was sobbing by the fifth stroke; openly weeping by the tenth; wailing desperately by the fifteenth. I gave her twenty-two: twelve from the left and ten from the right, alternating every five. As you well know, the far end of the cane snaps harder. She did not miss a count. Veronica’s ass was livid with red welts when I finished. She laid there tense, her forehead still pressed to the desk, with tears trickling from beneath the lowered lids, waiting tensely for the fearful next stroke. I let her wait. Time out. Why twenty-two you ask? I gave her that many because, first, she expected a round number; twenty, twenty-five or even thirty. Second, if I’d given her one more, I would have drawn blood. I gave her the exact number her buttcheeks could endure. I was tempted to lay one right up between her legs, but that could wait until there was no hair to cushion the blow. More importantly, part of what I was doing was venting. I try not to discipline a sub in anger. Well, I may be in ‘irk’ sometimes, but I try not to discipline in anger; certainly not in rage. Rage can make you careless. Damage – sometimes permanent damage – is done in rage. The ‘box’ with Veronica’s name on it was finally open. I had to be careful. Yes, you’re right. We were pretty emotional with Lydia, Marco and Wendy. But they deserved the emotion. Even Gwendolyn and Saundra had stepped out of character with ‘Fat Ass and the putz’ but we were all pissed. They deserved some ‘emotion’ when we were tattooing their butts. That does sing somehow doesn’t it, like a new pair of sitcom characters: ‘Wally and the Beaver’; ‘Beavis and Butthead’; ‘Fat Ass and The Putz’… I know. Time in. She laid there coil-spring tense for about two minutes before she realized that there would be no number twenty-three. Meanwhile I casually stripped off my shirt and released Mr Snake from confinement. He smelled fresh pussy. Fresh wet pussy. If Veronica had been wet before the whipping, her pussy was fairly gushing after. Veronica had just begun to relax; her ass had just unclenched when I centered my dick on the divide of her sex and thrust in. Moaning lost, her head came up, back arching, knees locked with ass thrust high; her body held in place by one hand gripping her shoulder, the other steadying on her hip. Her hands tightened on the far edge of the desk, supporting herself on her forearms. I mounted her like the bitch she was: inches deep quick, then out, then in deeper, then out, pause, then in all the way, slamming my loins against the pain-striped cheeks of her ass. Veronica made small noises in her throat with each thrust. Veronica surprised me. God she was tight. Not as tight as her daughter, not at forty-three with a pregnancy in her past, but certainly much tighter than I’d expected. I surprised her too. ‘T’s good thing she was as wet as she was. She looked over her shoulder to see me, biting her lip to keep from whimpering as my cock stretched the walls of her pussy. Lust, horror, need and sorrow warred in her eyes. Once seated deep with the head of my dick prodding her cervix, I paused to gather her hair in one thick rein. I tugged, arching her neck, then fucked her with long, deep strokes. I made certain that Veronica felt every inch of my cock pumping in her pussy. Every adamant stroke ended with my loins slamming into her ass, flattening the stinging globes. That afternoon in the townhouse, I gave Veronica Hart the fucking of her lifetime. She loved that fucking; she hated that I was the one fucking her. She needed it; she hated that she was getting it from me. She needed me; I didn’t need her at all. Mrs Hart hated that. Two minutes into it, Veronica was cumming. five minutes later, she was cumming again. ten minutes later, she surprised herself by going off a third time. I waited until she was peaking that third time before letting go myself. I rammed my cock deep and held it there, thrusting against her ass, one hand locked to her shoulder, then other buried in her hair. I roared wordlessly as the cum jetted from my dick. She wailed in the midst of her own orgasm. As the last shot of my cum pumped into her puss, I tightened my grip, pulling her up. I squeezed her left breast as I murmured in her ear. “My goodness Mrs Hart, you really are a horny little minx, though I do love it when you cum for me.” God she hated that. Made her wet though. When I released her hair, she slumped to the desktop, gasping. Mr Snake, sated for the moment, slipped from her pussy trailing cum. A sticky string arched, then snapped down her thigh. I shuffled back a couple of steps, then sat on the bed long enough to finish removing my clothes. Veronica didn’t move other than to gasp another breath. Her dress was damp with sweat. She lay with her weight on the desk, legs trembling but still locked. I’d dropped off an overnight bag and a few other items on the way to the airport. I donned a nice Missoni robe. “You have twenty minutes to make yourself presentable again,” I said as I wrapped the robe around myself. “Remove your dress and what’s left of those ridiculous pantihose. Shower if you wish, but be back here on the bed in lingerie certain to please me at the deadline. We have a few more things to discuss before our afternoon is over. Move” Veronica rose slowly, stiffling a moan when the hem of her dress slipped across the burning cheeks of her ass. The glance she gave me from the corner of her eyes was deadly, but she didn’t hesitate to obey my instructions. Time out. The strangest part about the whole senario is that Veronica Hart would have enjoyed herself completely, if she had had control; but, that she had no control made her wet. Veronica Hart is a snob. She lives the caste system. I think one of her great regrets is that she was not born to European aristocracy. She believed that she’d have made a marvelous queen, or at the very least, a Duchess. She saw me as common at best. There I was, her worst nightmare and most erotic dream: a commoner who had complete control over her. Constitutionally, Veronica had to be in control of any situation. She could not be comfortable any other way. On the other hand, her greatest turn-on before that day was the illusion of surrendering control to another. After that day, her greatest turn-on was being forced to surrender control to another. Time in. While she disappeared into the bathroom, I went to pack away the laptop. Veronica had taken the disc. No matter, I wanted her to have it. I had the originals. I refreshed myself in the other bathroom, then poured myself another Guinness and made Veronica a fresh Stoli rocks. When I got back to the Master bedroom, she was just settling onto the bed. I have to admit, she looked radiant. Her auburn hair was freshly brushed, cascading in waves around her face. Her black lace bustier was picked with an underlay of crimson satin and sheer black silk. Strapless, it left her shoulders, the curves of her breasts and flat belly bare. The three-quarter cups cradled her generous breasts, leaving her areolae peeking over the edge. The matching v-string covered the bulge of her sex with a sheer lace panel, while the strings behind did not touch the tender welts on her ass. Veronica’s slender legs were encased in sheer black stockings: thigh-highs with wide lace bands gripping her thighs and framing the bulge of her pussy. Her makeup was perfect: no base; a hint of blush; lip gloss, a rich red/brown to match her hair. Her expression was subdued but defiant. She wet her lips, maybe nerves or maybe an attempt at seduction or maybe because of her scorched ass. Maybe all three. Those welts had to hurt. I set my glass on the nightstand, then handed her the drink. Surprise flashed in her eyes as she took it from me. “Thank you… Sir.” She remembered her manners. It was a start. We still had a long way to go. “You’re welcome Mrs Hart. Turn onto your stomach please.” Surprise flashed again, then her eyes narrowed with suspicion but she turned as I’d asked and tucked a pillow beneath her chest. She looked over her shoulder as I climbed on the bed beside. She watched uneasily as I pulled a tube of ointment from my pocket and squeezed a lozenge on my hand. Veronica tensed, the muscles of her legs and ass flexing as I began annointing the welts on her butt. She turned away so that I wouldn’t see her wince. “This cream contains an analgesic, but more inportantly, it will help the welts heal. Don’t worry about scarring, there will be none. I have years of practice with instruments of discipline. Don’t take this as an act of kindness or apology. Rather just remember, the faster your ass heals, the sooner I can discipline you again. There is a short-handled flogger in the cabinet that I will use on you next. I’m told the strands biting into the fleshy pad of a woman’s mons are exquisitely painful.” She started. Her head whipped around. She stared at me with wide eyes. “Wh – what…? I met her eyes, mine cool. “Not ‘What’ Mrs Hart,” I said, giving her flaming rear cheeks a smack. She flinched. A moan burst deep in her throat. “The correct response is ‘Yes Sir’, remember?” I capped the tube and rolled off the bed to grab a damp towel from the bathroom. As I cleaned the ointment from my hands, I finished the thought. “You have three days to heal. We wil meet back here next Monday afternoon at three for your session with the flogger. In the meantime, you have a couple of assignments.” I crawled back onto the bed and stretched out with my head and shoulders on a pillow against the headboard. My Guinness was at hand. I took a pull. Great beer. “Your first assignment is – turn on your side and pull your panties to your thighs.” Startled, she did as I’d ordered, propping herself over the pillow on her elbow. She whinced slightly as the welts on her left asscheek came in contact with the comforter. Her dark auburn bush grew wild over her mons and the lips of her pussy. I sat up and ran my fingers through the curls. Her right leg tensed, as though to cover herself, but she held herself still while I combed my fingers through her pubes. “For shame Mrs Hart. Look at this mess. As I was saying, your first assignment is to make an appointment this afternoon or tomorrow morning at one of the local salons. One that specialize in ‘Honeymoon’ waxing. I want that done by tomorrow afternoon. Your mons and vulva are to be completely hairless by the time you get here tomorrow night, or I will arrange to have it done. I know a few people that would love to give a little pussy a good waxing.” I took a sip of beer, staring into her light grey eyes. They had gotten bigger with every sentence. “You do not want that to happen.” I finished in warning. “As it is, I plan to pluck any remaining hairs personally, so you’d better tell the technician to be thorough.” “What – Sir…!” One look at my face and her protests died on her lips. The anger in her eyes did not pass away as quickly. ‘Your second task is both easier and harder: you’re to decide which you’d rather have pierced: your tongue, your nipples or your clitoris. You will have your navel pierced for a belly ring, plus one of those other three areas. You get to choose which.” Veronica sat up abruptly, almost spilling her drink. Her eyes were flashing. “I will do no such – “ “Yes Veronica, you will!” I interupted firmly, my eyes glittering dangerously. “Do not defy me. You won’t like the result. You are mine to do with as I will for the next one hundred days. For that time, you will wear my mark. After it is all over, you can remove whatever decoration you wish. The piercings will heal, you know that.” Still defiant, Veronica subsided, but I knew that battle was not over. Tough shit, lady. I thought to myself as I drained the beer and set the empty glass on the bedstand. You will do what I order, or I’ll have it done to you. That you will not appreciate. “I could just as easily force you to get a tattoo, so don’t piss me off. You won’t like the result if you do. I can be very cruel. One young lady has my initials branded on her ass. You may meet her soon. She would be happy to discuss it with you.” Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 14 I gave her pubic hair a tug for emphasis. Her expression was one of melded horror and excitement. I was turning her on like she had never before been turned on. “Now, hand me your drink. As long as you have your panties down, you may as well give me a show: pleasure yourself. I want to watch you perform so I can judge your technique. A little humiliation will do you good.” Her eyes blazed, but she passed the nearly empty tumbler to me. I set it on the bedstand, then I ran my fingers along the furry lips of her sex. All the talk of branding, piercing and tattoos had made her wet in spite of the lingering horror evident in her expression. Veronica stiffened blushing furiously, angered at my touch. She slowly raised her right knee, opening herself to my view. Like I said, turned on big time. Veronica’s pussy was gushing again. She hated that I knew. I realized that a lot of Veronica’s fury had to do with the fact that it was me – her daughter’s boyfriend – in firm control and making her like it. Like it! Hell, she was crazy for it. Her clit was popped to a hard little knot. Goosebumps ran along her arms to her chest. Her areolae crinkled, the fat nipples ripening, standing tall berry brown from her chest. Her nostrils flared as her breathing quickened: shallow, rapid almost panting. As Veronica began caressing herself. I went to refill my glass and retrieve a gift for her. When I returned, I took a chair near the bed to plant my feet on the bed, sip my Guinness and enjoy the show. Her eyes were closed; thighs open; fingers busy. Rhythmic tremors raced through her willowy body. Her heavy breasts echoed each tremor, the flesh quivering on for a moment after each. Her moist lower lip was caught in her teeth; her brow was furrowed with effort as she pleasured herself. Needy mews etched from her throat when she caught a particularly sensitive bit of her passion. Soon, lost in the sensations, greedy for more, she rolled onto her back, unmindfull of the stinging welts. Rather, the burning ache seemed to spur her lust. Free to use two hands, she spread her legs wide, knees bent. She parted her nether lips with one hand and caressed her swollen clit with the fingers of the other. Gently teasing fingers slipped along the ruby-moist inner lips to kiss the kernel of her need. Then dipping inward to stretch the entry of her sex, much as a man’s girth might. Scooping nector, her fingers soon returned to caress her clit once more. Veronica was far lost in the sensations shooting from her center when I crawled onto the bed beside. She took note only when she felt the blunt point of a dildo dip into her opening. She gave a shuddering cry, teeth chattering. Her feet planted; her back arched, lifting her ass from the bed as the dildo surged deep to stretch the walls of her vagina. I withdrew again, taking my place on the chair to watch and listen as Veronica played. She grasped the base, and twisted frantic. A low hum began, interrupted only by her helpless moans and panting breaths. She must have felt my gaze upon her. She opened her eyes to meet mine glittering beside. What she found there made her shudder. The need sudden and raw was there in hers. With a gasping mew thick with lust, Veronica neared climax. Her fist was frantic as she pumped the dildo with short, quick strokes, forcing herself higher. Her ass pumped too, driving the dildo deep. As she edged the brink, her moans became urgent whimpers, grasping desperately for the tantalizing prize just beyond her reach. All the while her eyes remained locked with mine. Maintaining that contact, I reached out to take the cane in hand. I stood, a looming presence, to lay the tip in the crease of her left hip, where the soft skin is hypersensitive to any contact. At the instant the cane touched her, Veronica’s eyes rolled back. Her body convulsed, almost levitating from the bed as she soared again, wailing incoherently. While Veronica was still lost in the throws of her passion, I yanked the dildo from her pussy and rolled her over. With hands beneath her hips, I pulled her to her knees to straddle mine. The side of her face and her breasts were pressed to the bed. Her full breasts spilled loose from the cups of her bustier, nipples achingly cherry. The strings of her panties stretched taut across her thighs, digging furrows in the tanned flesh. The lips of her pussy gaped, flushed and full; juicy with her cum. I centered my dick between the swollen lips of her sex. With a sudden surge, I jammed her ass down. Just that quick, Mr Snake was balls deep in her pussy. The walls of her vagina were still rippling from her orgasm. Her back arched. Her head snapped up. She gave a muted shriek. Extending her hands to the headboard for leverage, she laid the side of her face on the bed again, between her arms to begin rocking her pussy back and forth on Mr Snake. Veronica was hot for it, pumping her pussy on my dick as fast as she could move her welted butt. I reached beneath to grasp her swaying tits. Pinching her fat nipples provoked whimpering moans, but she picked up speed, pumping her ass even faster. Veronica is into pain and fucking. Preferably both. Most prereferably at the same time. The walls of her sex began rippling again. As her orgasm surged once more, I jammed her ass down. Driving my dick deep I clutched her hips with cruel strength while my seed sprayed through the petals of her cervix. As the last of the cum spewed from my cock, I slumped over her back, gasping. We crouched there for a few minutes still locked together, slowly regaining out strength. When I could speak without panting, I pinched her nipples cruelly and rumbled in her ear. “So Mrs Hart, how’s it feel to be my bitch.” Her pussy spasmed around my cock. A blush bloomed on her cheeks to spread down to the tops of her breasts. I’d done it to her again. She really hated that. Made her really wet though. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms anal (sex) – sexual intercourse wherein the penis is inserted into the recipients anus rather than the vagina. balangas – female breasts, usually large and shapely; see ‘gazongas’. balconet (bra) – essentially a demi-bra, or shelf-bra; the cups of the bra are relatively small and support a woman’s breasts from below; the straps are set wide, attaching to the sides of the cups rather than the tops of the cups. bald (look) – a hairless vulva, usually achieved by shaving or plucking the pubic hair. benjamin – $100; as in Benjamin Franklin, whose portrait is featured on the one hundred dollar bill. bitch (my) – a pejorative term describing a person, male or female, who is subserviant to another; there are heavy sexual connotations attached to the term. blow; blew – to perform fellatio; performed fellatio. blowjob – Fellatio; Sucking on a penis, usually to orgasm; oral sex. Blue Wax – a brand of depilatory wax. boink(ing) – to fuck; to have sexual intercourse with; fucking. boxers – a pair of male underwear; currently a fashion often worn by females as shorts or sleepwear. bush – the pubic hair located on the mons of a human female. bustier – a corset-like, tight-fitting, often strapless top worn as a brassiere or outer garment. cervix – The narrow outer end of a woman’s uterus; the entrance to a woman’s womb. cherry – Virgin; unbroached; hymen intactus. chochos – female breasts. clit – Clitoris. coĵones – testicles. control freak – a person who has the emotional need to control and/or direct others. cum – the substance of ejaculation; sperm for males and lubricating secretions for females. cumming – orgasming; climaxing. décolletage – a low neckline on a dress, blouse, bra etc. which shows a substantial amount of a woman’s breasts. de rigueur – prescribed or required by fashion, etiquette, or custom. dick – Penis. diddling – playing with; rubbing; teasing; agressively caressing. dildo(es) – an artificial penis. Dom – short for Dominant; a Master or Mistress; see ‘Dominant’. Dominant – a Master or Mistress; see ‘dom’. Firenza – Florence, Italy. gazongas – female breasts, usually large and shapely; see ‘balangas’. glans – the head of a penis. Guinness – A dark beer (Stout) brewed in Ireland. Heathrow – One of the three airports that serve London England and the environs. honeymoon wax – to remove pubic hair by covering the groin with a sticky substance then pulling the substance away, thereby plucking the hairs and leaving the groin area completely hairless; the act or result thereof. mons – Mons Veneris or Mons Pubis; New Latin in origin; literally, ‘eminence of Venus’; a rounded eminence of fatty tissue upon the pubic symphysis especially of the human female. P’s & Q’s – an old English expression: ‘to mind one’s P’s & Q’s’ is to be aware of the number of pints and quarts of beer consumed at one sitting in a pub. pissed or pissed off – Angry (very); also very intoxicated. pleb – us common folk. pussy; puss – Vulva; the external genatilia of a woman. putz – Yiddish for ‘penis’ or ‘dick’. sac – testicles. safe (word) – a word agreed upon by both parties in an S&M or B&D scene to be used by the submissive or ‘bottom’ to halt the scene if the action is going beyond what that person can handle either physically or psychologically. smooth (pussy) – a vulva without pubic hair, whether shaved, plucked or naturaly hairless. stay-ups – women’s stockings with a band of elasticized material around the thighs designed to hold the stockings in place; see hold-ups’. Stoly Elit – Stolichnaya Elit Vodka. sub – see ‘submissive’. submissive – a person who attains sexual gratification by submitting to the demands of another. suck (cock) – to perform, or the act of performing fellatio. swallow(s) – to orally injest the substance of a male’s ejaculation; usually after completing the act of fellatio; to swallow a man’s sperm. tanline(s) – the edge of one’s flesh between that which was protected and unprotected from exposure to ultraviolet radiation. thigh-high stockings – women’s hosery; stockings that reach to her upper thigh, ending in wide bands of nylon, silk or lace which grip the thigh. thong – a pair underwear or the bottom of a two-piece swimsuit characterized by a small strip of material that fits between the cheeks of the wearer’s ass, leaving the majority of the derrière bare; most typically worn by a female; see ‘panties’. top – the dominant person in an S&M or B&D relationship; female dominents are often known as ‘Mistresses’; male dominants are ofter known as ‘Masters’. townhouse – a a usually single-family residence of two or sometimes three stories that is usually connected to a similar house or houses by a common sidewall or walls. Tralee – A small town in County Kerry on the southwest coast of Ireland. v-string – women’s underwear; panties or thong. wax – a procedure for removing hair; a sticky substance is applied to the area of skin to be denuded, then removed, taking the unwanted hair; see ‘Honeymoon wax’. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 15 This is the twenty-fourth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter XV Saturday ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart... sexy... sophisticated... and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Mrs Hart seems finally to have met her match... She's certainly not used to being anyone's bitch. But she's going to have to get accustomed to the position... In fact, she's going to experience many new positions over the next few months. One of the first is sans panties with her legs spread wide while another woman rips the pubic hair from her Mons Veneris. Oooocheee! Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XV Saturday '...you do not get to choose the method, mode or implement of punishment. Never. That is a privilege I reserve for myself...' When I left the townhouse late that afternoon, Veronica was laying across the bed with a pillow beneath her chest speaking to her hair stylist on her cell phone. Mmh Mmmmh! Veronica did look good stretched out like that in her bustier, v-string and thigh-highs. The cheeks of her bare ass still glowed though the welts had subsided to a series of thin red lines. I stood at the door while she relayed the news to me. It just so happened that her stylist knew just the right place for her. It seems that there were a couple of Brazilian sisters that had just set up shop. Apparently the ladies specialized in 'Honeymoon' waxing. Imagine that. I smiled as I walked out the door, wondering if Veronica might run into Erin or Margo while she was there. Should've told her to get a new bikini too. On the drive home, I made a mental note to tell her to get a one the next time she was in for a touchup. I had a few things to do myself, one of which was dinner with mom and dad. We hadn't eaten together since I'd brought Missy over the previous weekend. Mom made a salad, dad kept her company, while I grilled the chicken and skewered vegetables. Dad popped the cork on a nice Australian shiraz. Great meal. They were surprised that I was home on Friday night. I just told them that I'd be gone most of the weekend, so I wanted to spend a little time with them. We caught up on the latest through dinner, then out sitting on the patio later. Afterwards, Mom and dad went to see a movie. I did the dishes, cleaned the grill, then checked my e-mail and went to bed early. The next morning I was up and out by five. Justin, Dan, Eric and I played eighteen. Justin had his putter working. He took me for ten bucks. Dumbshit that I am, I pressed a couple of times. Dan won two from Eric. We were the first group off the tee, so we were in the clubhouse by ten. After that, I washed and waxed the Miata, showered, shaved, ate a sandwich and ran a couple of errands. By one-thirty, I was at the townhouse watching Barry park one. Fuck the 'roids. He's still a great ballplayer. Those HD plasma screens are excellent, as was the Guinness. Veronica had given me another key. Just what I needed. I already had three, though she didn't know that. Veronica came in just after two, an hour late of course. She was wearing a very nice shirtdress; deep blue silk with three-quarter sleeves, button front and tie belt. No stockings on her tanned legs, but a phat pair of strappy 'fuck-me' sandals with three inch heels on her feet. She was moving a little funny, like maybe a little bit bowlegged. Gee I wonder why. "You're late," I announced as I watched Omar turn a double play to end the inning, then glanced at her. "Why? What's your excuse?" She was taken aback by my tone. Her brow furrowed in growing anger "First, I am unaccustomed to being quest – " "No. First, get used to it, Mrs Hart," I interrupted rudely. "For the sake of that marvelous ass of yours, it had better be quickly. As it is, that little outburst of yours has earned you yet another punishment session. Your eighth I believe. You forgot to address me correctly. Now answer my questions without the histrionics." Veronica's cheeks feathered red. The rage in her eyes was huge. She opened her mouth to answer, then thought better of it at the last second. She tossed her hair dismissively and set her purse on the sideboard near the door. Apparently she had forgotten her lesson already. It was about time for a reminder. I decided to let her dig the hole a little deeper. "Sir (if you must)..." that's nine I marked, adding to her total in my mind...the stupid girl insisted upon finishing another customer," Veronica ranted, striding to the bar to make herself a drink. "Just because I was a few minutes late for my appointment. That lost the little snip her tip. Then she was obviously doing it all wrong. The waxing was far too painful. I insisted that her supervisor finish the job. That caused a further delay. To top it off, the supervisor was not in any way better than her subordinate. What can one expect from foreigners. I shan't be returning to that shop – " About what I figured; it was everyone else's fault. Worse for her, she had no reason, only excuses, all of which were lame. Time to take her down a peg or three. "Yes, Veronica. You shall." I interrupted with a sigh. "You will be going to that shop for a thorough waxing every week for the next three months. You will also give each young lady any extra twenty percent next week. Let's call it a Bitch Tax, since they had to put up with you. Give the ladies cash. Let's make it a round fifty dollars apiece over and above their regular tip. You are to apologize to each personally. Do it with a smile. Be humble. Tell them that you had had a very bad day – which won't be far from the truth. I will check later to make certain you have followed my instructions." Veronica gave me another of her patented 'indignant' looks. I thought, Jesus, would that lady never learn? Oh well, she's just giving me another good reason to fuck with her. Besides, the Giants are killing the Dodgers. Good. Can't stand a team that deserts their city and their fans. Now if they'd stayed in Brooklyn... I'd still be a Yankee fan. I clicked off the television. "You don't quite get it yet, do you Mrs Hart?" I said patiently, turning my chair to look at her. "Oh well. I certainly hope for your sake it filters through soon." I signaled her to me with a crooked finger. "Present yourself. I want to see how well you've followed my directions." Veronica's face reddened again. She took a hit from her drink then moved reluctantly to stand before me. I stared at her for a moment, waiting. Finally, grinding her teeth with frustration and anger, she unbuttoned the dress from her waist to the hem. She bent forward slightly to spread the panels then reached to her hips to slide her panties to her thighs. A sheer blue silk v-string. Very nice. At least she'd done one thing right. Veronica got to keep her panties. She straightened to stare over my head. Her flush deepened as she held her dress open. She glanced down to find my eyes meeting hers rather than on her freshly denuded pussy. That embarrassed her even more. Good. She looked up and away, her face beet red. I smiled to myself, then examined her proffered vulva. The ladies appeared to have done an excellent job. They probably enjoyed every minute of it. When you think about it, it doesn't pay to piss off the person who's job it is to rip the hair out of your pussy. I'd bet that they had appeared quite apologetic as they were ripping away. Emphasize 'appeared'. Veronica's vulva pouts. That's fitting, isn't it? The fat outer lips are full and plump, bulging down and out from her mons. The crinkled lips of her labia just barely peek through the divide. The hood of her clitoris is prominent, particularly since the wax job. Speaking of which, her mons and vulva were red and a bit swollen from the abuse. But the skin was baby's-butt soft, and there wasn't a stray hair to be found. I know. I checked myself because I wanted to find a few, just to pluck each personally. "Step closer," I instructed, holding out my hand. "Closer, Mrs Hart! That's it. Spread your legs more. Push your hips out for me. Now rub your pussy against my palm." God she hated that. I cupped my palm and held it between her legs. As she rocked back and forth, her clit rubbed against the heel of my hand. Veronica may have hated the humiliation, but that didn't prevent her getting wet from the stimulation. I'd have bet cash money that the waxing made her wet too. "Now that is choice Mrs Hart," I said with a smile. "Nice and smooth, almost like your always naked for me. It must feel some kind of sweet against your panties. You're already gooey down here. Nice v-string by the way. If nothing else impinges, I may allow you to continue to wear panties today." I pulled my hand from between her legs. "Now turn around. Lift your dress. Let me take a look at your ass." She hesitated for an instant, just to let me know how much she hated parading around for me, then turned and pulled the hem up to her waist. "Present yourself properly for me Mrs Hart." I demanded. "Lean forward slightly. Raise your head. Arch your neck and back. Stick it out there for everyone to see." I smacked her butt once for emphasis. "I said 'stick it out'. That's it. Spread your legs a little. Good. Yes, just like that. Now remember that position. You will be using it in the near future. Now just stay there while I examine my work." The welts were fading, less angry. There was no bruising, just a series of raised lines across her asscheeks. Almost as though she had been sitting on a lawn chair naked. Her skin was healing faster than I'd hoped. I traced my finger along one of the welts. Veronica stiffened, but more from anger and embarrassment than pain. Good. I wondered in passing what the women at the salon had thought when they had seen Veronica's ass. Oh well. "You do have a very nice ass Veronica." I commented. "I definitely approve of your choice in swimwear, or at least the bikini you wear when tanning. Which reminds me: you may or may not have noticed, but they offer bikinis for sale there. Purchase three next week when you go in. We will have a fashion show here next Saturday." Veronica stiffened again. The nape of her neck colored, either from embarrassment or rage. May be both. Didn't matter though. I liked it either way. "Make each a complete outfit: sandals, coverup, sunhat, the whole bit. That way you can strip for me during the show. You can pick the music." No doubt. That time the flush was definitely one of rage. I sighed mentally. There was almost no sport in teasing her; she made it ever so easy. However, I smiled to myself as I examined her ass again. Somehow – no matter how easy she made it – I never lost interest in the game. Nor did I ever get tired of admiring her bare ass. The tanlines outlining the limits of Veronica's bikini were dramatic. There were only two small patches of white: one low on her mons just barely large enough to have covered her pubic hair, and the other no more than a small triangle situated just at the crease of her ass below the small of her back. The first hint of the divide was tan. Her ass and thighs were completely tanned an even golden brown with no white areas under or within either crease of her asscheeks. She must either lay on her back with her knees pulled to her chest, or on her chest with her rump raised to get that kind of coverage. Of course her breasts showed the matching lines: two small triangles of white centered over her areolae and nipples. Without clothes, those tanlines and the absence of bush would make her appear more than naked. Very good. "Now let's see what else you're wearing for me today. Pull up your panties and turn around." Veronica shuffled forward, away from me as she straightened, pulling her panties over her obviously tender mons. That gave me just enough room to rise from the chair. When she turned, her face was flushed, her look, murderous. She was muttering beneath her breath. I'd bet it was nothing near complementary to yours truly. She swayed back gasping, startled when she found me standing in front of her. At five-eight, Veronica is relatively tall for a woman. She weighs in around one-thirty, one-thirty five. Still, she's a lot smaller: willowy compared to my six-two, one-ninety-five. Her light grey eyes were wide as she turned and grew wider when I began unbuttoning her dress. Stunned to silence at my effrontery, she looked down to watch as the gap in her dress widened. When the button at her waist was undone, I untied her belt and opened her dress wide. Veronica flushed scarlet as I stepped back, arms outstretched, holding the panels of her dress wide. Veronica's bra matched her panties. Another balconet, this time of sheer blue silk. Mrs Hart seemed to favor front-close bras and silk lingerie, the sheerer, the better. I certainly appreciated her taste. Those luscious nipples of hers grew fat and tall, indenting the cups of her bra as I watched. Mmhh Mmmhhh! What a bodacious body! I gotta say, Mrs Hart – Veronica – is a babe! My thoughts must have shown in my eyes, because her flush deepened even as her eyes softened. Suddenly she wasn't so much pissed as a little bit flattered and maybe embarrassed. Her flush spread to the tops of her breasts. Her eyes dropped and she lifted one knee, turning it slightly in as though to shield herself from my gaze. I remember thinking. She is embarrassed. How delightful! Let's see where this leads. I stepped close again, then slipped the dress just off her shoulders, took her in my arms and kissed her. With one hand beneath the dress at the small of her back and the other cradling her head, I pulled her to me. Veronica was stiff with shock. Her hands rose to my chest as though to push me away. They fluttered there for a moment, then lay still. The kiss deepened; her mouth opened to my insistent tongue. Suddenly she sighed and pressed herself to me, molding her body to mine. Her hands rose to my shoulders to hold me close. Her dress slipped down her back, the sleeves hooked at her elbows. My thoughts went back to our first meeting. Hers too, probably. She was finally getting the chance to seduce one of her daughter's boyfriends. As if! More like the exact opposite. I let my hand slide down her back to her ass, squeezed gently then pulled her to me. She moaned through our kiss, while pressing herself against me. Mr Snake was wide awake and growing down my leg. Even in the relaxed fit of my jeans, he was starting to get uncomfortable. Unbidden, Veronica reached down to open my zipper, then fished through my boxers. I took her face in my hands to deepen the kiss, and to give her room. Her hand was soft, her palm cool around his shaft. Chyaa! That felt good. She kissed me too, working her jaw and rubbing her lips against mine as she tugged my dick free. She began stroking it as we kissed; gently tugging at the shaft and slipping the foreskin up and down from the glans. Her other hand slipped in to cradle my nads. Like I said: soft hands. She played for a few minutes, then slowly slacked off as her attention was drawn to the kiss. I was giving her everything she could handle, and more. Our tongues were dueling; curling together; tasting. By the time I broke the kiss to slip my lips along her jawline to nibble her lobe and lick behind her ear, Veronica was trembling. One hand held my dick, the other was wrapped around my neck. Urgent murmurs whispered from her throat. Suddenly desperate for more, Veronica reached up of unbutton my shirt, then loosen my belt. I pulled the dress from her arms and draped it over the chair, then laid her back on the bed with a pillow beneath her head. While she lay panting, I stripped for her. I lost the shirt, kicked off my Doc Marten slip-ons and skinned out of my jeans and socks. I left the boxers for the last. Veronica's fingers danced along the bulge of her sex, dipping intimate through the sheer silk of her panties. She watched with hungry eyes as my shorts slipped down. Mr Snake was rampant for her, alive awake and sniffing. The air was fragrant with the scent of her pussy. Eager to begin, she shrugged out of her bra. Her full breasts burst free; nipples crinkled high and rosy as she slipped her panties down her legs. Her hairless pussylips were open and glistening wet. I approached from the end of the bed, crawling up between her legs. Mr Snake was aimed straight for her, drooling. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded, sultry and wanton. Both she and he would have to wait. I hovered over her body for a moment, kneeling between her legs, my hands planted to either side of her shoulders. She reached up to caress my cheek while taking my shaft in had again. I bent to accept another passionate kiss, then pulled her arms up above her head. "We're going to play a little game, Mrs Hart." I murmured as I kissed along her neck. "The name of the game is 'Keep Your Hands to Yourself'. To win, you must keep your legs spread wide, and your hands above your shoulders. You must remain passive. If you touch me anywhere with any part of your arms or legs, you lose. Okay so far?" "Mmmmh yes..." she sighed, eyes closed and shivering at the sensation of my lips trailing down the hollow of her shoulder. "...yes sir... I understand... no touching..." "If you lose, you pay a penalty." I continued as I nibbled her chin. "Today the penalty is that you lose your panties for the rest of the weekend. By the way, we're taking a little trip this afternoon. The question is, would you rather go out with or without your panties." "Nnooo. Ooohhh, yessss!..." she moaned. "Do that again... W-what do I win – aaaahh!?" "I'll cancel your date with the flogger on Monday," I answered, trailing my lips down between her breasts. "Does that seem fair?" "Mmh hmmmm..." she purred. "Oh! Ohh yessss... Yes!... like that..." "I'll take that as a definite yes," I whispered as I nibbled her areola. "I'll give you one hint: if you start to lose it, it might help you maintain if you laced your fingers behind your neck... Just a suggestion... The game begins now. Oh, before I forget, Mrs Hart, there's one last thing..." I raised up on hands and knees again. Her eyes fluttered open, languid and wanting. In a blink, I curled my tongue up over the end of my nose, then pulled it back inside again. Still deep in the memory of my kisses, Veronica's eyes slowly closed, a half-smile of anticipation fluttered on her lips. Suddenly her eyes were wide, staring up at me, unsure at what she'd witnessed. I bent down to kiss her again. Her hands rose to my chest. At the last instant she pulled her hands away to throw them on the bed high above her head. "Oh my God!" She whispered. "What... I... Did you... Oh my sweet Lord!" I hid my grin at the side of her neck, my lips softly trailing down to her bare shoulder. "Ready or not, here I come!" I murmured as I nibbled the at the hollow. She shuddered at the sensation. Veronica got everything that afternoon. Just like Bobbi Sue Hobart of guilty memory, I teased and tasted every inch of Veronica's body. Only more so. I brought her to the edge, then held her there while she writhed and whimpered, begging for release. Not just her lush breasts; not just her bursting nipples; not just her bare and beautiful pussy; but the hollow of her shoulder; the nook behind her ear; the crease of her hip; the niche behind her knee; the kiss of her gorgeous ass. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 15 I an hour searching out her secret spots, those intimate areas on her body that – with a touch of lips, teeth or tongue – made her writhe and sent goosebumps racing across her skin. I found a couple about which I believe even Veronica herself was unaware. Often her hands fluttered down to touch or hold or caress, but always she stopped herself just in time. She would have preferred that I tie her wrists, but it was more fun forcing her to keep herself passive and helpless. It was infinitely more of a punishment. Unable to control herself, she wound the sheets around her wrists as best she could, effectively tying herself to the bed. My hands were everywhere too: touching and stroking and petting and squeezing soft; fingernails scraping, always gentle. The bridge of her nose; that tender spot between the eyes; the nape of her neck where the muscles meet bone; the hollow of her hip; the crook of her elbow; down her flanks and across the girdle of her pelvis; the nook of her navel; the muscles of her ass, down her legs, massaging; to her feet and toes, gently working. Breath hot along the crease of her hip; a cool breeze over the tips of her nipples, and moist and heated lips of her sex to tickle the throbbing button of her clit. After a time, up again to tease and taste and touch, and finally feast upon her center. By the time my tongue met and tasted the bare lips of her sex, Veronica was thrashing on the bed, almost weeping for relief. The moment I went down on her, the torment really started. The ladies in Misawa had taught me much about pleasing a woman. I'd been practicing a whole lot since then. Veronica was wet when I started. She was gushing before I was halfway done with her. The bare lips of her vulva were flushed and full, her labia swollen and crinkled soon gaping as though inviting my tongue inside. My tongue speared deep, wriggling inside, stretching her entry. Then scooping her juices to lave her swollen clit with the fluid. As I worked around her clit with my tongue, I reached up to tweak her ripe nipples, tracing the areolae, and gently fondling the heavy mounds of her bare breasts. Time out. Here's another clue guys. If you work a woman's clit too much, it goes into overload. Too much stimulation is as bad, maybe worse, than none at all. Her clit can become insensitive for a time, if you're not careful. That's a huge turnoff for a lady. Work the hollows to either side of the clit as much or more than the clit itself. Trust me. It will pay dividends. And don't suck too hard either, unless she demands it. Believe me, she'll let you know when. Time in. Over and over again, I brought Veronica to the brink of her climax, then pinched a nipple just too hard, or nibbled with teeth just too sharp, or didn't give her clit that one last lick, and so drawing her back again. In the end, Veronica surrendered. She clutched my head and pulled my face to her pussy with fierce strength. "You win you bastard! You win!" She moaned through clenched teeth. "You can have my fucking panties. Now give it to me please! Dear God, have mercy! Please let me cum!" I grabbed her hands and held her wrists to either side of her writhing hips, then attacked her clit with all my skill. Inside thirty seconds, Veronica was launched. Looney tunes. She opened herself wide. Her knees were drawn back to either side; her feet arched, toes curling around my shoulder blades. Her hands clawed the sheets. Her butt levitated from the bed, forcing her pussy against my lips. I thrust my tongue made broad through her entry and held on with all my strength as she soared. As she writhed in the grip of orgasm, I nibbled at her clit and took her up again. When she was lost, deep in her climax, I released one wrist and thrust my thumb deep into her pussy while poking the kiss of her ass with a finger. Veronica wailed at that sudden, intimate intrusion. The sensation sent a thrill racing through her body, propelling her higher. As she peaked, helpless in the grip of her orgasm, I threw myself up atop her body, settling my weight between her widespread thighs. Almost before she was aware, the head of my cock was plunging through the slick entry her pussy. I pulled her arms back up over her head, then twined mine through hers with her wrists locked in my grip. She was still helpless, deep in the grip of her orgasm when I took her mouth in a savage kiss, then thrust Mr Snake deep. Eyes shut tight, Veronica wailed through the kiss. She hooked her thighs over my hips, then crossed her ankles at the small of my back. Digging her heels into my butt, her ass rose to meet the second thrust. Our bodies met with that familiar slap. Mr Snake surged deep; deeper I think than any man before had been. His girth stretched the walls of her vagina, in then out again. The walls rippled along his shaft. His head nosed through the mouth of her cervix with each thrust. Veronica was feeling no pain; rather any pain she may have felt only added to the intensity of her pleasure. At the moment of release, Veronica's strength matched mine. Her arms strained against my grip; her legs held me close. Her lithe body spasmed, lifting us both from the bed. Her third – fourth? (surely the best) – orgasm triggered mine. Whiteout. I rammed my hips to hers, impaling her with my pulsing cock and fired ropes of cum directly into her uterus. Wailing wordlessly, she shuddered with each shot splashing. My grip on her wrists tightened to match the grip of her legs circling my waist. I ground my hips against hers; hers to mine, straining against each other as my balls emptied into her. We seemed to melt together in our mutual climax. As our orgasms faded, a stray thought impinged: if she was fertile and unprotected, there's no way she'd not be pregnant: those little buggers didn't have far to swim. For some reason, that possibility didn't bother me in the least. Stupid and insensitive of me maybe, but true. We lay locked together for a few moments until the world righted itself. Slowly our muscles loosened. I found myself lying atop Veronica, centered in the saddle of her hips. I was supporting myself on my forearms with my forehead pressed to the pillow, shoulders heaving with the effort to breathe. My body covered hers completely. From above, only her cocked legs, captured arms and her face from the bridge of her nose up would be visible. Her teeth loosened from my shoulder as she fell back, panting. Only then did I feel the sting of her bite. Her eyes were closed. Her gasping breath was a warm breeze, tickling the circle of her tooth marks. Her ankles unlocked, allowing her legs to fall limply to either side. I slid back a jot. Mr Snake slipped from her vagina easily, though she gave a muted groan. I rolled off her body, careful of my weight. There was surprisingly little of my cum coating his shaft. Very little seeped from her slit. Most remained inside, apparently filling her uterus. We lay gasping together, side by side until our breathing eased. I lay dreaming for a while, then slowly came to myself. I glanced to her face and saw that she was sound asleep. Veronica's face had relaxed. Though sweaty, lipstick gone, with hair disheveled, in sleep she'd lost ten years. She appeared quite lovely. Careful not to wake her, I rose, donned my robe and pulled the comforter over her sprawled body. She did not move. The only sign of life was the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Someone once said that great sex is very messy. Ours had been incredible, if you'll excuse the obvious. I went to the spare bathroom to clean up. I took a leisurely shower, first hot then two minutes of cold. That'll pop your eyes open. After that, I examined the bite in the mirror. The imprint of her teeth would leave a bruise, but she had not penetrated the skin. 'T's a good thing I held her wrists too: she would have scratched the hell our of my back with those manicured claws of hers. Refreshed, I gathered the robe and padded to the bar. I'm one of those people comfortable nude. Mom tells me once when I was about four she found me outside in the yard stark naked taking batting practice. I was smacking rocks against the fence with my plastic bat. She thought it cute and took a couple of pictures. Even then my little wang was bigger than average. In one shot, Mom caught me in action. Pretty good form for a little guy, though it did look as if I was swinging with two bats. I made a couple of tall G&T's with fresh lime, and poured an extra glass of icewater for Veronica. Drinks in hand, I went back to the bedroom. She was still sleeping, though she'd turned on her side, her face resting on the back of her hand. Her heavy breasts were exposed; her nipples soft. I set the tumblers on the bedstand and looked down on her for a minute. Really quite lovely. Too bad that she was such a bitch. C'est la vie. Time to continue her training. Maybe I could spank some of that bitchiness out of her. If not, oh well, the spanking would be fun anyway. Veronica stirred when I crawled onto the bed and settled myself to her side. Her eyes blinked open, confused for a moment, then sharpening with awareness. "Good afternoon Mrs Hart. Did we have a good nap?" I inquired solicitously while passing her the icewater. "Here, have a glass of water. After fucking like a rabbit and cumming as many times as you did, you must be dry." Veronica took the glass, blushing to the tips of her tits. Her eyes dropped in embarrassment, but that didn't help. If anything, her flush deepened. Mr Snake lay in repose along my thigh about a two feet from her face. She sat up, pulling the edge of the comforter up over her tits. The icewater disappeared in one long series of gulps. She caught her breath as she handed the tumbler back to me. I grinned and went for a refill. By the time I got back, she'd found the gin and tonic, but she downed the second glass of water almost as quickly as the first. "Thank you... sir." She murmured softly. Her voice was a bit defensive. She looked up to meet my eyes. The blush was a rosy glow on her cheeks. "What now?" "Now we'll relax and talk for a few minutes. Then I'll decide whether to eat a late lunch now or an early dinner later. By the way, we'll be staying the night here. Tomorrow you get your new jewelry. Have you decided which setting you prefer?" You should have seen her expression. Her eyes went wide. Her breath caught; her jaw dropped; the blush was back in full bloom. She sat up careless of the comforter. Her tits sprang up, bobbing at the sudden shift. I noted that her nipples were crinkling. Whether that was from fear or excitement remained to be seen. "I-I... You... You can't be serious!" She seemed at a loss for words. Then she gathered herself and began again. "I thought you were merely attempting to frighten me. Surely you do not actually intend that I..." She saw the answer on my face and changed tactics. "Sir..." That one came out with difficulty. "...after our... our time together this afternoon..." her flush deepened. She looked down, clearly embarrassed. "I..." she hesitated, then went on in a rush. "Never in my life have I had... sex... like we had together this afternoon. I've read of women who claim to have experienced multiple orgasms. To experience such a thing oneself is quite another matter. It was the most amazing encounter of my life." Veronica was attempting, in her clumsy way, to butter me up. Having absolutely no experience at it, she was not at all subtle. Of course there had to be some truth in her statement too. Her ultimate end though was to weasel her way out of getting pierced. Not happenin' Veronica. Veronica looked up to meet my eyes. "It must have been the same for you. If you force..." a shudder ran through her body. Yep, definitely excitement. "...me to undergo such a thing, we will not be able to... to be together for weeks while I heal. Please reconsider." "What you say is not necessarily true," I demurred. "Of course it depends in part upon the locations you choose to display jewelry. Your tongue would take a week or two. Your nipples and/or clitoris, probably four, to be safe, since I don't do condoms. Also you seem to have forgotten that, no matter which choices you make, your bottom would still be available to me. From the recordings I've seen, you seem to thoroughly enjoy getting fucked in the ass. And I will so thoroughly enjoy fucking your ass." Veronica went white with shock. I continued. "Personally, I can't decide which I'd rather have: a large stud in your tongue – which always feels amazing sliding along my cock – rings through your nipples or a ring through the hood of your clit. Either of the latter choices would allow me to attach all sorts of things." In answer to the question in her eyes, I explained. "I know one Dom who fastens his sub in place with two light leather thongs fastened to her nipple rings. She can't move much while he whips her without hurting herself. She says that it's very difficult to stay still. I believe her." Horror and excitement warred in Veronica's eyes. "Of course, both of those options are difficult to hide. You'd have to get used to speaking around a tongue stud. It usually takes a few weeks. And it can be difficult to hide the rings and nipple shields I've chosen for you. Depending upon your mode of dress, one glance at your chest would tell anybody that your nipples are pierced." The excitement disappeared, leaving absolute horror. I pretended not to notice. Apparently having her subordinates at the magazine and peers elsewhere becoming aware of her proclivities was definitely not to her liking. "A pierced clit would mean that your pussy would be off limits for maybe four weeks. That option makes the least appealing to me. Though I have heard that a stud or ring adds a special thrill for the woman during sex. A couple of women I know swear by theirs." Veronica gave me a dubious look, but the idea seemed to appeal to her, particularly when she considered the other options. "In the event you choose that option your pussy will be closed for my use, but, as I said, that does leave your ass available full time for my pleasure. Well, your ass and your mouth, unless of course you also choose to get a stud for your tongue." Her eyes popped wide as she took considered the implications of my statement. Four weeks of assfucking with a dick the size of Mr Snake might leave her permanently gaping. Not a pleasant prospect. "I prefer the third option, but the choice is yours: a belly ring and two of the three – tongue, nipples or clit. I'm curious. Which of the three appeals to you?" That did it. Without hesitation, Veronica answered. "None appeal to me, but If I must – " her eyes flashed. She was so hating the whole idea. "I can't afford to have people see a stud through my tongue. It would be completely out of character for me to do so. Therefore, I prefer to carry my – my decorations – on my breasts..." she gestured to her chest, then hesitated, obviously grudging every word. "...and on my clit." So she'd chosen to have her nipples and clit pierced. Perfect. Despite what I'd said, those options were precisely my preferences, for all sorts of reasons. One of which was that a leash would attach very nicely to a ring through her clit. That image made my dick hard, and I had just the perfect venue in mind for that show. There would be no fucking her pussy or tits for a while, but that could wait for later in the summer. I would use that as yet another form of humiliation. By that time, there was no doubt that she would've done something to earn it. Until her nipples and clit healed, I'm certain that she was praying that she would be limited to practicing her oral skills – not that she needed the practice you understand – rather than spending a lot of time on her knees getting her ass corked, but she was wrong as usual. Just because her clit and tits were tender, didn't mean I would go without nasty sex from her for four weeks. She'd soon learn different. And with herself so very tender – depending upon the position she was forced to take – at least for a few days, it might be difficult for her to get herself off while getting me off. Excellent punishment: diabolical, if nothing else. I am so bad. Mr Snake rolled over and began to awaken. "Here's to your choice Mrs Hart." I said raising my tumbler. "We can eat first, or we can see if we can duplicate this afternoons experience for you, then eat. If you are going to be out of action for a while, it's the least I can do for you." Veronica raised her drink automatically, but she wasn't into the toast. She appeared to be reconsidering her options. Her attention turned inward as she sipped her drink. After a few minutes she shuddered abruptly. Her face lost color beneath her tan. I think she was imagining an embarrassing scenario involving the tongue stud or nipple rings, or the added humiliation of getting her pussy waxed while sporting a clit ring. She shook herself, then her eyes refocused. She found herself gazing upon my face. Suddenly the blush was back upon her cheeks. Maybe she was remembering details of our time in bed that afternoon. Could be. Parts of our tryst would make a sailor blush. No matter what else she was, when she loses herself in it, Veronica is one hot fuck. She took another sip, but found that she'd finished the drink. She held the tumbler out to me. "May I have another... sir." She was still having trouble with that honorific. "Then I'd like to eat. I did not have much in the way of breakfast this morning, what with the Salon appointment." Veronica was being polite. Either the training was kicking in, or – more likely – she was very hungry. I freshened our drinks. When I'd settled on the bed again, I took up our conversation. "I'm hungry too. We'll eat a late lunch now, then come back here. Later if we get hungry again, we can order in dinner. Does that suit?" Veronica nodded. "Yes... sir. Thank you." It wasn't getting any easier for her over time. Good. I liked that she flushed every time she said 'Sir'. Learning manners seemed to be a painful process for Mrs Hart. Very good. "You're welcome. Now you've got a half hour to get ready. Wear a dress or a skirt, and remember, you lost our wager. No panties allowed." She blushed, but nodded again. A tiny smiled feathered her lips. Apparently the memory of our fucking like rabbits wasn't all bad. Veronica looked every inch the sophisticated lady of fashion that afternoon. She kept the blue silk shirtdress, though I could tell that the absence of panties bothered her every so often. Particularly because I made her unfasten the bottom two buttons. She had to be very careful not to flash. I didn't have the heart to tell her that in certain unusual lighting conditions, that dress became near transparent. What the hell, maybe she knew and wore it anyway. Two hours later we had finished our meal at a little French bístro down near the waterfront. The owner is a friend. She knows me well. Daníelle and I had fucked each other blue one afternoon. Early thirty-something. Dark brunette. Huge brown eyes. Lush body. Magnificent tits. Bodacious ass. Very French. Liked to have her nipples chewed. I introduced Mrs Hart as Missy's mother. Veronica had been a bit taken back. First that restaurant was upscale and the food was outstanding. Second, that the cost for the two of us came to almost two bills, including tip, for which I'd paid with cash from a money clip that obviously held a number of like denominations. Third, that I was obviously a well-known and valued customer. Fourth, that I was being served liquor, and the champagne I had ordered was so completely to her taste. Well all of that plus the casual conversation I'd had a with Jacques, the wine steward. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 15 In fluent French, of course. After we finished our meal, Veronica and I went back at the townhouse. There she got naked again. I had her on her knees giving me another of her marvelous blowjobs for an encore dessert. We'd had créme brule at the restaurant. At the townhouse, she got a second helping of heavy cream, fresh from the spout. Jesus that woman can suck cock! Once the front door was closed, I unbuttoned her dress. Per usual, Veronica objected. I think that was more for forms sake than anything. Her popped nipples gave her true feelings away. Before she could give further voice to her protests, I tossed her dress over the sideboard, pulled her body to mine and smacked her on the ass. Hard. Veronica got that look in her eye again. You know, that half-pissed, half-embarrassed, all needy look that demands more of what you have to give. All objections were cut off when I had her kneel right there in the foyer and presented her with my cock. She sucked the head deep and began another of her amazing hummers. I leaned back against the door, took her auburn mane in hand and enjoyed every moment – particularly the view. Mrs Hart has quite a set of tits. I got quite a charge seeing her on her knees tastefully dressed in her bra sucking on my dick. Mr Snake did too. He was right again. It hadn't been all that hard to get Mrs Hart on her knees. With that happy thought, I blew my wad down her throat. We spent the remainder of the afternoon in the bedroom fucking. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't friendly fucking; I just had a lot of what she needed. I think part of it was also that she wanted to get her share in before she was cut off for a month. Apparently she hadn't been that long without sex in years, and with her clit hors de combat, it was going to be awfully difficult to get some until it healed. My favorite position with her that afternoon was doggie style. She hated being mounted with her ass in the air and her throat arched from the pull on her hair gathered in my fist. She particularly hated being called 'my bitch', and the smacks on her ass while Mr Snake pumped wild in her little pussy. I loved to hear her squeal; she loved having easy access to her clit in that position. At least she did until I tied her wrists to the headboard and did her again. She had a real hard time with that one, but finally reached when I poked her butt with my thumb. I thought for a moment that she was having a conniption; that is, until I heard her wail and felt her pussy rippling around my dick. Hhhmmmmm. By Six o'clock we were all fucked out. Mrs Hart in particular. She had just enough strength to fall asleep. I covered her with the comforter and went to take a shower. Hot to get clean and cold to wake me up. While she napped, I watched a late game, the Mariners and the A's I think. That new young kid with the Mariners looks real good. After a while, I ordered Chinese take-out and walked around the corner to get it. I woke Veronica when I got back. She took a quick shower while I laid things out. We ate buffet style, then I made her change the sheets. She hadn't changed the linen on a bed in... Come the think of it, she'd never changed the linen on a bed. It showed. I made her do it again, but it wasn't that much better the second time. What the hell, I'd slept on worse. I told her to get some sleep. She was going to need the rest. After she went to bed, I made a couple of calls. The recipients were happy to volunteer. With the arrangements made, I got into bed myself. My last conscious thought was that, in the morning, Veronica was going to meet another Dom, or rather, a true Domme. Two actually. These, she really wouldn't like. Oh well. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms bee-sting (breasts) – Shallow bumps like the swollen flesh surrounding a bee sting or an insect bite in appearance. bellyring – a jeweled decoration of the belly button, usually involving piercing of the navel. bill(s) – one hundred dollars; multiples of the same. Chyaa – expression; denotes surprise and/or pleasure. clit ring – a piece of jewelry inserted through the flesh of a woman in the area of her clitoris; actual insertion through the clitoris is very rare; most common is to pierce and insert the jewelry through the hood of the clitoris, though there are many variations. Doc Marten's – a brand name of a shoe which features heavy soles and heels. Dom – short for Dominant; a Master; see Dominant; see Domme. Dominant – a Master or Mistress; see Dom; see Domme. Domme – short for Dominant; a female Dominant; a Mistress; see Dom; See Dominant G&T – gin and tonic; an alcoholic drink made with gin and tonic water poured over ice; usually served with a slice of lime. gazongas – female breasts, usually large and shapely; see 'balangas'; see 'chochos'. girl goo – natural vaginal lubricant. Guinness – A dark beer (Stout) brewed in Ireland. honeymoon wax – to remove pubic hair by covering the groin with a sticky substance then pulling the substance away, thereby plucking the hairs and leaving the groin area completely hairless; the act or result thereof. hors de combat – French; literally 'out of combat'; disabled; injured; unusable. Looney tunes – frenzied; crazy; berserk. mons – Mons Veneris or Mons Pubis; New Latin in origin; literally, 'eminence of Venus'; a rounded eminence of fatty tissue upon the pubic symphysis especially of the human female. nipple ring – a piece of piercing jewelry generally ring-shaped inserted through one's nipple. phat – Fabulous; great; fantastic. v-string – women's underwear; panties or thong. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 16 This is the twenty-fifth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter XVI Sunday ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart... sexy... sophisticated... and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Mrs Hart has discovered that there is a huge difference between playing B&D games and living the life of a submissive. It's been a difficult journey thus far and it's only been twenty-four hours. She's met a true Dom, now she's about to meet two Dommes, Royal Bitch Goddesses both. And there's more than spelling to mark the differences. That she has no control is making her crazy. It also makes her very wet... She has much to learn, and much to unlearn. Mistresses Gwendolyn and Saundra are more than happy to help James teach both lessons. Humility comes reluctantly to a woman of Mrs Hart's class. Learning from James has been an ordeal. Let's see whether or not she can learn some from another woman. Or two. Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XVI Sunday "...Tomorrow you get your new jewelry. Have you decided which setting you prefer?...." When we got into the Miata about nine the next morning, Mrs Hart was a tad subdued. Her disquiet grew when I handed her that pair of opaqued sunglasses. She gave me a questioning look. "The next destination is a surprise," I explained. "Wear the sunglasses. I'll let you know when you can take them off." I had a very good reason to keep our destination a secret. Veronica might not agree, but tough shit. Deal with it Mrs Hart. As usual, Veronica's outfit was impeccable. She'd chosen an elegant floral print sun dress with a bra top and stiletto sandals that strapped around her ankles. Beneath she wore only a pair of sheer pink boy short tap pants. I liked the panties. She shouldn't have been wearing any, but I definitely liked the way she looked in them. The dress did well supporting her heavy breasts with a bare glimpse of cleavage. She looked good enough to eat. I let her carry a small clutch, which dangled on a long strap from her shoulder. I was certain that she'd need to fix her makeup at some point during the day. Her scent was Givenchy, I think. Amarige. A half-hour later, we arrived at Gwendolyn's place. I knew that Saundra was also there; Cassandra too. All three were in appropriate dress, waiting for us, though they didn't announce their presence when we arrived. With the opaqued sunglasses still in place, Mrs Hart couldn't see the ladies. The conversation through the drive had been lively. What there was of it. Veronica was not in the best of moods. In a word, she was pissed. I'd promised her decorations, giving her the opportunity to choose location, but she still wasn't used to the idea. She kept hoping that I'd relent. Deal with it Mrs Hart. Time out. Poor Veronica: on one hand, she craved a man with a strong hand to maintain discipline; on the other, she hated that that strong hand was attached to my arm. After all, in her world, I was much younger; her daughter's hated paramour; a nobody from the lower classes. Worse, I had control. But I was also the one who knew her buttons, and knew well how to push them. Time in. None of the ladies said a word when we arrived. I got Veronica out of the car, then took her arm and led her into the outbuilding, then down the winding stone staircase into the dungeon. I shut the heavy door behind us, then led her to the middle of the room. You should have seen her face when I lifted the sunglasses from her eyes. Blown away doesn't cover it. The first thing she saw was the St Andrew's cross. She almost jumped out of her skin. Gwendolyn had lit the torches on the walls, so the place was some kind of spooky in the flickering light. Of all of the places she'd expected to find herself that Sunday morning, a medieval dungeon was not high on her list. Hell, from her reaction, it wasn't even on her list. Her eyes darted around the room, probably seeking the way out. They came to rest on the rough wooden door. A clue might have been the sound of clicking heels coming down the stone stairway, growing louder with each step. There was obviously more than one person coming. She looked at me, seeking a hint, but I stood silently staring back with my arms folded across my chest. Poor Veronica. She had no idea of the menace approaching. She kept glancing back and forth between me and the door. Finally she broke the silence. "You promised that no one else would know about us," she hissed in a whisper. "Apparently your word is as worthless as – " "Don't say anything that you'll regret Veronica! " I interrupted coldly. "I have been very lenient with you, whether or not you realize it. I've made allowances because you are Missy's mother. As of now, that's over. You've used up all of that free pass. To this point you had earned nine punishments. That outburst made it ten. One more word, and I'll double it." Her expression was thunderous, but her jaws shut with an audible click. "Now you know that my word is golden," I continued sternly. "The people approaching are well aware of your identity and your status. How and why they know will be revealed at a later time. Suffice to say, they and we are here to attach your chosen adornments. One of those coming has vast experience piercing various body parts. You're lucky that person is available, and I would suggest that you be on your very best behavior starting immediately. After all your new acquaintance will be wielding the piercing needles." Rage disappeared as horror blossomed upon Veronica's face. This setting was not at all that which she had pictured for her session with the needle. She opened her lips to speak, but before any word could emerge, the heavy iron clasp on the door clanged. A shudder ran through her. She stepped back, putting me between herself and the door, as it creaked open. Veronica's gasp was loud in the cavernous chamber. If she had been stunned by the setting, she was appalled by the players. Mistresses Gwendolyn and Saundra entered together, and they were in full dress uniform. Mistress Saundra was regal in a polished red leather and satin corset, black spider web stockings and thigh high red leather boots with five inch spiked heels. Her skin-tight black leather gauntlets ran from the tips of her fingers up, flaring beyond her elbows. Her décolletage was dramatic. The half-cups of the corset lifted her breasts high, and left her huge pink areolae and button nipples exposed. The nipples were pierced with spirals with diamonds embedded in the beads at either end. The bulging lips of her sex embossed the supple black leather of her g-string. Her fine blond hair was pulled tight to the top of her head in a severe ponytail, then allowed to fall freely about her shoulders, then down to her thighs. It wafted behind in a shining cloud as she moved through the chamber, strutting as only an accomplished Mistress can. The captured mounds of her heavy breasts quivered liquidly with each purposeful stride. Her makeup was perfect: she was an Ice Princess carrying a reed-thin quirt in one gloved hand. Beside her came Mistress Gwendolyn, dark and subtly menacing in a sheer black silk shirt with billowing sleeves and French cuffs with cufflinks, skin-tight black jodhpurs and black leather knee boots with spiked heels. She too wore gloves: black kidskin snapped at her wrists. Her black hair was gathered in a severe French braid. Her breasts were bare beneath the shirt; her cherry nipples tenting the silk, the points quivering, as were her breasts, with each pace. She carried a polished leather riding crop in one hand. The other held the loop of a leash. Behind the two Goddesses came Cassandra, scurrying to keep slack in the leash. The silver chain hobble she wore around her ankles made that difficult. Her blond hair was done up on a simple Chignon. A delicate silver chain linked to the rings in her nipples swayed as her bare breasts bobbed with each mincing step. Around her neck, she wore a thick leather collar from which a leather strap fell down her back. Her wrists were secured high behind her back to cuffs riveted to the strap. She was otherwise naked. The ladies before her were striding in step. Cassandra had to scurry. The leash was secured to the ring through her exposed clit. Any hesitation would be disastrous. When the ladies stopped before us, Cassandra immediately went to her knees with legs spread and head bowed. She was breathing deeply from the effort to keep up. The rings through her nipples and clit twinkled in the light from the torches. Gwendolyn rested her hand lightly upon Cassandra's shoulder. Cassandra laid her head along her Mistress's thigh. Saundra offered her hand in greeting. I took it, bowed my head and brushed my lips upon her fingers. "Good morning Mistress Saundra. You are looking particularly enchanting. Thank you for taking the time to assist today." Her eyes twinkled as they met mine. "Good morning Master James," she said. "You're looking fine yourself, my friend. Anything I can do to help. You know that you have but to ask." The twinkles turned to green ice when she glanced at Veronica. I turned to her companion with a warm smile. Speaking in French, I greeted her formally. ["Good morning to you Mistress Gwendolyn. Thank you for allowing me to use your facilities. Your dungeon is a perfect setting for the tasks that we must complete this day."] ["Maître Jacques!"] said Gwendolyn as she kissed my cheeks. ["I am happy to see you my friend. How wonderful! You have brought a new student of the art of submission to us."] She glanced at Veronica, her bearing imperious. Her lips formed a thoroughly wicked smile, though the smile never touched her eyes. ["This must be the infamous Veronica. She does appear to be an impertinent slut, though now she seems frightened and confused rather than arrogant. I find that I am eager to train this insolent whore to behave as a civilized woman. She also appears to be one who will provide exquisite entertainment for us."] I laughed, then answered, ["Yes! Yes! I have no doubt that she will provide many hours of entertainment for all three of us, and more, over the next three months. Yes, many hours of delicious entertainment!"] We laughed together. Veronica obviously didn't understand the language, but did get that she was the topic of our conversation. She managed to look appalled, pissed, embarrassed and very confused, all at the same time. Gwendolyn caressed Cassandra's cheek and continued in English spiced with engaging French accents: "And here is your petite amour Cassandra. Is she not gorgeous this way: naked but for her jewelry. This morning she has danced delightfully to the music of the whip. In confidence, I think she is in need of a session with your Monsieur Snake. Her little pussy is very wet. When I strike her bare mons with my baton, her screams are enchanting: she cries out, then raises her loins for more. Magnifique!" Cassandra shivered, sending residual ripples through the firm flesh of her bare breasts. Her nipples were crinkled, standing high and cherry dark. She peered up to Gwendolyn's face, then down quickly again. It wasn't difficult to see the fear and excitement warring in her eyes. Gwendolyn spoke true: Cassandra's hairless vulva was flushed; her netherlips shiny with wet. Six or seven razor thin weals crossed tender flesh of her plump mons and upper thighs. Additional stripes decorated the cheeks of her ass. All were evidence of a session with a cruel riding crop. I glanced at Veronica again to see what effect any of this was having. Now if I've described Mrs Hart correctly, you know that she is a complete Bitch On Wheels. In her public life, she is also a strong woman, a first class business woman with international connections and experience, entirely comfortable either in the Board Room or on a dais in front of a roomful of people. She is complete and completely confident in herself, her abilities and her station in life. At that point, after hearing Gwendolyn and really seeing Cassandra, she was a complete loss. If I didn't know better, I would say that Mistress Saundra and Mistress Gwendolyn were scaring the shit out of her, and that she was attempting to hide behind me. Maybe I didn't know better. It was readily apparent that she recognized the real deal when she saw them. She certainly did not at all appear eager to meet, let alone get one inch closer to the two Dommes. I was amazed how quickly she had crumbled when she was taken out of her element. Saundra gestured toward one of the cells. "We have yet another young one here: a very bad girl who was in desperate need of discipline. Come, you must see. She has spent the last hour contemplating the error of her ways dancing upon The Board. I promised her that she will remain there for another hour or so, but only if she remains quiet. She may whimper, but she knows if she makes too much noise, she will sleep there tonight. Rather, I think that she will attempt to sleep. Come, Master James. Bring your 'baggage' that she might see what we do to enforce discipline." She led the way to the cell door. Mrs Hart clutched my arm. She followed me reluctantly, but was desperate not to be separated. If she heard the word 'baggage' she didn't take offence. I think she had decided to keep a very low profile around Mistresses Saundra and Gwendolyn. I'm glad that she was behind me. My training kept the astonishment I felt off my face, but it was a close call. Saundra was looking for it, so she caught the twitch of my eyebrows. She smiled with twinkling eyes, knowing that she had surprised me. Veronica moaned and clutched my arm. Her eyes were huge at the sight of the young woman suspended in the cell. Girlfriend wasn't going anywhere without a lot of help. Her head was encased in a leather discipline hood. Her eyes were covered by blinders. A ballgag distended her jaw. A slender rope ran from the ceiling down to a ring on the top of the hood, with just enough slack that she could bob her head. Like Cassandra, she too wore a thick leather collar from which a strap trailed down her back to which her wrist were tightly secured in cuffs. Again, like Cassandra, the strain on her arms and shoulders caused her back to arch, throwing her chest out. Otherwise, she was naked but for the jewel in her navel and the shiny silver rings piercing her nipples and the hood of her clit. Thrust up and out, her jutting breasts quivered with each panting breath. I knew those beautiful young tits intimately. Those and the dancing butterfly gracing her belly. The girl's slender ankles were cuffed to the floor with heavy chains. She straddled a stout board, a two by twelve, suspended edgewise from the ceiling on ropes through heavy ringbolts secured there in a joist. That the board was suspended edgewise meant there was no give when her weight settled. The ropes were pulled taut, so that she was forced to stand on the balls of her feet. The top corners had been planed diagonally to meet at a rounded edge. That edge was nestled between the flushed lips of her sex. Those delicate lips were easy to see, as the padded flesh of her vulva was plucked bare. Her shapely calves quivered with the effort to maintain her stance, almost on tiptoe. When the muscles in her legs finally gave out, she sank to her heels, which left virtually her entire weight balanced on the edge of the board. The edge dug deeply into the tender flesh between her legs. So it was when we entered the cell. It was apparent that she was desperate to remain motionless, but the pressure on her taint guaranteed that she would rock in a frantic and futile search to find a more comfortable position. The rocking only intensified the pain: if she rocked forward, her weight was on the divide of her pussy; if she rocked back, it was on the kiss of her ass. When the agony grew too intense, she would rise onto the balls of her feet. Then the excruciating dance would begin again. I knew those quivering tits well. I'm certain Veronica had no clue that the young woman in the cell was her Executive Assistant, though I recognized Tinkerbelle instantly. Wendy did not appear to be enjoying herself. Mistress Saundra strode into the cell, heels clicking on the stone floor. She laid her crop along Tinkerbelle's quivering breasts, teasing the rings in her nipples. Wendy shivered, but kept her silence. Saundra's smile was cruel. She bent to kiss Wendy's leathered cheek, then stepped back and lashed Tinkerbelle's bare ass with one wickedly precise stroke. The welt raised was one of many criss-crossing the vibrant flesh of her tautly curved asscheeks. Mrs Hart swayed, mewing in sympathy for the girl. Only her hold on my arm kept her upright. Wendy's body jerked wildly, rising to her tiptoes, prancing for balance. Even with the surprise of the cruel lash she maintained her silence but for an explosive gasp. One despondent mew whispered from her throat as the tender lips of her sex rubbed cruelly along the smooth and unyielding edge of the board. The ring through the hood of her clit balanced upon the apex. Saundra's cruel smile widened as she stepped back to Wendy's side and kissed her cheek again. "My darling little playmate is learning her lessons well. If she continues to show such diligence this morning, I may allow her to attend me tonight. She has shown some talent in the art of pleasuring her Mistress with soft lips and agile tongue. Haven't you my sweet?" she affirmed while caressing Wendy's naked breast. Wendy's urgent mew and the bob of her head seemed to confirm her Mistress's words. Saundra's smile turned to me. "I am the tiniest bit jealous, Master James. Despite my best efforts, sweet little Tinkerbelle yet shows a disturbing preference for a man's attentions. To be blunt, you spoiled her with that magnificent cock of yours. Though I must say that the reluctance she shows when forced to my service allows me wonderful opportunities to – shall we say – to encourage her active and enthusiastic service." She glanced at Veronica as she spoke, her smile both subtly inviting and overtly menacing. "Despite her reluctance, she shows great aptitude for licking my bare pussy when the tip of my whip dances across the cheeks of her bare bottom." The color drained from Veronica's cheeks. Saundra sighed. "Ah well, one cannot have everything one wishes. Thank the Goddesses there are others who are available for servicing a needful Mistress." Before Veronica could react, the tip of Saundra's quirt brushed lightly down the side of one breast, tracing the curve. Veronica jumped a foot, emitting a terrified squeal, and landed behind me cowering. She clutched my arm to the point of pain with both hands. Her manicured fingernails sank what felt like cuticle deep in my left biceps. I winced then gently disengaged Veronica's grip, but allowed her to slip her arm through mine, then turned to Saundra. "For shame Mistress Saundra. You've frightened the poor creature," I said with a grin. "We'd best adjourn to the Medical facilities before my 'baggage' faints or worse. "Fainting is not allowed," Saundra stated firmly, glancing again at Veronica. "Any 'creature' weak enough to faint in my presence soon wakes to find itself locked in an uncomfortable position, enduring a session with my whip. 'Worse' merits more aggressive punishments." Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 16 Veronica flushed, then paled in rapid succession. Her grip on my arm tightened again. "But you are correct Master James," she said, turning to the door. "We must leave my darling Tinkerbelle to complete her penance while we attend to the business of marking your latest..." she glanced at Mrs Hart "...acquisition." Her green eyes were glacial. She led the way back to the dungeon proper. Tinkerbelle gave a last plaintive mew as she door clanged shut. We found that Mistress Gwendolyn had kept herself busy while we were diverted. The snap of cruel leather meeting bare flesh greeted us. Mrs Hart's moan was barely audible. Cassandra was bent over a padded bar with her legs chained wide. Her neck and arms were locked in a set of stocks positioned low, while her jaws were stretched by the width of a ballgag. A wide leather strap was buckled across the small of her back, causing her back to arch, and her naked ass to be thrust high. The burnished cheeks of her butt seemed to invite a lash, which was precisely the action being taken by Gwendolyn. I tried to ignore that her stance also thrust the plump lips of Cassandra's hairless pussy up into the perfect position for penetration. Mr Snake was not so easily distracted, though the idea of getting anywhere near Gwendolyn's slender crop seemed to cool his ardor a bit. After one last backhanded snap across the cheeks of Cassandra's bare ass, Gwendolyn turned to greet us again. Cassandra's body jumped with the impact of the whip, then settled bonelessly upon the bar with a stifled groan. Mrs Hart hadn't said much of anything since the ladies made their entrance, but she ended her silence with a loud gasp, then whispered: "Oh my God! On her bottom... It's... That can't be real! Can it? Please tell me that I'm seeing things! Is that... Is that really a brand scar on her cheek?! It can't be real! Can it...?" Her query seemed to hang in the air. Gwendolyn provided the answer. "Yes Véronique, it can: it is real. Come closer that you might see the mark of her true Master: the man who dared sear his initials into the burning flesh of his submissive. The one claimed her as his property. The one that she adores. The one that she obeys first and beyond all others. Come see. Come feel. I'm certain that you will be glad that you did. You will see things in a different light once you understand." Gwendolyn's lips twitched into a smile, quickly gone, as I rolled my eyes, then led Veronica to Cassandra's prostrate body. To my mind, Mistress Gwendolyn was laying it on a bit thick, but Veronica herself didn't seem to notice. Maybe I was wrong. She had no eyes for me. Her eyes were locked upon the brand scar decorating Cassandra's proffered ass. The scent of excited woman wafted around us as we neared. Cassandra was generating adrenaline again. Her hairless pussy was puffy between her lithe thighs; the inner lips open and glistening with wet. Secured with legs spread wide that way, with the welts of a whipping still rising from the flesh of her ass, she was beyond ready to be fucked. Mr Snake was all for it. He caught her scent too, and was straining to get down to the serious business of fucking. Or is that 'down to the business of serious fucking'? No matter; he was awake, aware and ready to be pumped deep. But I digress. Veronica's eyes were round with surprise. Of course she had heard of such a thing, but to actually see it – to see the scar in person, particularly in this setting – was another thing altogether. She stopped beside Cassandra, peering down, then – tentatively at first but with growing nerve – reached out to trace her finger along the flowing script of the brand scar. Cassandra rose onto her toes, thrusting her bare bottom higher at the touch. As Veronica puzzled out the letters, she seemed to be unconscious that she was whispering the letters. "'tee'... no that's a 'jay'... a 'jay' then a... an 'ar' and... no an 'en', no 'em'... and another 'em'. That's it," she said with satisfaction having solved the puzzle. Turning to me, she repeated confidently, "Three letters: 'jay', 'em', 'em'. The nerve it must have taken to do such a thing, the poor girl, she – " "My dear Véronique," Gwendolyn interrupted with a smile while caressing Cassandra's bare back. "This 'poor woman' as you say begged her Master to apply the brand. She is thrilled to bear his mark. She would tell you so herself immédiatement – instantly – if she weren't busy at the moment. Later, I promise you, you will hear it from her own lips. Is that not correct, ma chère?" Cassandra nodded her head and wiggled her bare tush in agreement. "But you have missed the whole point," Gwendolyn laughed quietly. "You have allowed yourself to be diverted from the real question. Now think. Master James tells us that you are a very intelligent woman. Prove it so." Veronica looked blank for a moment, then glanced down to the brand again. "'jay', 'em', 'em'; that's what you mean. The initials." "Very good, little Veronica. You get a big star on your report card," said Saundra sarcastically. "But you still haven't got it, have you. Jesus, you're dense. Come with me now. You can think about it while I'm attaching your new jewelry." Veronica stiffened and latched onto my arm again at the tone in Saundra's voice. Saundra and I started toward the door of the 'Medical' room, but Veronica hesitated to follow, even though she was obviously reluctant to release my arm. Gwendolyn provided her the impetus to get moving. She appeared at Veronica's side without a sound, there she laid a hand on Veronica's shoulder, and whispered in her ear. "If you wish, ma chère, you may stay here with me now, and get your new jewelry later," she murmured in that intimately husky voice of hers. "I have another pillory available, just for you. My baton hungers to kiss your delicious bottom that you might join in our danse diffamée." Then she caressed the cheeks of Veronica's ass with the tip of her crop. All of a sudden Veronica appeared very eager to get through the door. She jumped and gave a strangled 'eep!' when she felt Gwendolyn's crop, then scurried to follow Saundra, not daring to glance behind at Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn's quiet laughter followed her into the room. The Medical Room was brightly lit and gleaming antiseptic white, but not at all inviting. The white of the tile, the glass front cases and the shiny stainless steel were cold and sterile, somehow threatening. Even the blank white cabinets lining the wall above the countertop held menace: who knows what diabolical instruments lay behind those anonymous doors. A stainless steel autopsy table dominated one corner. But, as the only dark objects in the room, the eyes were drawn to the black leather of the Dentist's chair and the Doctor's exam table, complete with stirrups. Both included cuffs and restraining straps. The straps were of black leather and looked very well-used. In one corner stood a curtained stand exactly like that found in a Doctor's exam room. Well, almost exactly: the curtain was sheer. Saundra wasted no time. "Get behind that curtain and strip 'baggage'. Leave your sandals on. The longer you take to get yourself naked, the longer I'll take to complete the procedures. And I can take a very long time to insert a needle to my satisfaction." Veronica lost her eagerness, but found her courage. She set her jaw, and marched behind the curtain. It took her almost no time to step out of her dress and panties which she draped over the top of the curtain. Saundra spent the interim watching the show and making lewd comments as Veronica's naked body appeared. Head high and shoulders set square, Veronica's heels clicked as she stepped out from behind the curtain. Her lips were drawn in a grim line; her eyes defiant, but with a hint of trepidation. It was apparent that she was determined to show her class throughout the ordeal. Her naked breasts quivered with each step. Her nipples were popped; crinkled to coral pebbles, whether from fear or excitement, even she couldn't say. Probably both. Saundra made her stand still form a moment, then walk back and forth a few times. Veronica didn't like being put through paces, but knew better than to object: Saundra's quirt described lazy circles in the air. She hated that Saundra was staring at her bare pussy throughout the ordeal. Ignoring Veronica's discomfort, Saundra turned to me. "I've an idea what procedures will work with her build. Some types of piercings work better than others, depending upon the woman's architecture. I think that we are free to pierce her pussy just about any way you choose. I'll know better when we get her up on the table." Saundra turned to Veronica. "Climb on the table and get yourself set my pet," she ordered. "Master James, help me strap her in place, please. We don't want her moving at the wrong moment. The needle might pierce the wrong place, then I'd have to do it again." Her smile was malevolent. Veronica shivered at the thought, but laid back upon the table and put her feet in the stirrups. I'm certain that it took a lot of willpower to remain calm while Saundra and I buckled the straps over her ankles and chest below her breasts. She was even less comfortable when I attached the cuffs to her hands above her head. Her eyes grew wide – wild – for a moment, but I was in no mood for any more shit from Mrs Hart. Even as she opened her mouth to speak, Saundra produced a ballgag. I pushed it through Veronica's lips, despite her sudden, frantic effort to expel the gag. Saundra dealt with that by giving one of Veronica's engorged nipples a vicious pinch. Veronica stiffened. A keening mew sounded from around the ball distending her jaw. Shocked with the abrupt transition from freedom to bondage, she peered up at us with wide eyes. "I've had just about even garbage from you, Mrs Hart," I said with a sigh. "Oh well. Since you haven't learned to keep your mouth shut, we'll lever it open for a while. If this doesn't work, I'm certain Mistress Gwendolyn has a Whitehead or ring gag that I can use. Either of those will keep your mouth wide open for me. No worrying about teeth scraping my dick that way." Veronica looked stricken, then her face paled at the thought of getting face fucked. Saundra brooks no argument from a submissive. Ever. She also took the opportunity to scold Veronica. "I see that you have yet to learn the rules of submission," she said sternly as she finished buckling the straps around Veronica's neck "Master James usually has his pets well in hand," Saundra said, glancing at me. "I can only surmise that you are a difficult case. I'm certain that he has enjoyed training you, but, like me, is less than impressed with your progress. Your reluctance does add a certain note of pique to the proceedings. "Be that as it may," she continued sternly, "my pets never speak unless they are spoken to, and then it is just to say 'Yes Mistress' or answer a direct question. I'm certain that his rules are identical. Since you appear to find the concept difficult to grasp, you will not be allowed to use your voice. You are, however, allowed to scream. That I will find amusing in the extreme." "As will I," I added. Fear filtered through the shock in Veronica's eyes. They grew more fearful as I pulled taut the chains attached to her wrist cuffs, extending her arms to the corners of the table above her head. "Your assumption is correct, Mistress Saundra," I continued, the disgust I felt apparent in my voice. For an accomplished and intelligent woman, Veronica was demonstrating a depressing lack of comprehension. "Despite all warnings, my dear Mrs Hart has been a disobedient slut. So much so that she has earned ten punishment sessions in less than two days." I gave Veronica the 'dead' look that Lydia and Wendy had come so well to know. "Mistress Saundra for your assistance today I had thought that I would repay you with a couple of those sessions. – " Veronica stiffened, her face darkened. But for the ballgag, she would have said something stupid. " – But I'm so disgusted with her progress, I'm going to make it four. – " At that point Veronica's gaze was murderous. But then her predicament seemed to intrude upon her thought process. Fear overlaid the loathing in her eyes. " – She is an excellent cocksucker. Let's see if she is near as good at licking pussy, shall we? – " Revulsion flashed, though fear became predominant. " – Since I cannot abide condoms, her cunt is going to be denied me for the next four weeks. Therefore she is to report to you once each week. You designate the place and time; she will be there. She knows the consequences if she refuses." At first, Veronica's eyes had darkened with defiance and loathing: they said 'Fuck You!' in no uncertain terms. But when I mentioned 'consequences', all fight fled. A touch of loathing and revulsion remained, but the prevalent emotion conveyed by her expression was fear. Fear of me; fear of Saundra; but most of all, fear of the consequences if she refused. We both knew that she would do anything I ordered until she got control of those disks. Time out. Yeah, I know: I can be such an incredible asshole at times. Oh well. As the philosopher once said, 'Who must do the harsh things? He who can'. That's me, I guess. Someone had to teach Veronica some humility. Time in. You'd have thought that I'd just given Saundra the gift of her dreams. She actually scurried around the table and laid a liplock on me for which any of her subs would have killed. She surprised me, but I gave back as good as I got. We were both panting when we broke. For the first time since I'd met her, Saundra actually looked interested in a man. Mr Snake was certainly interested. "Mmmhh, that was..." eyes twinkling, she searched for a moment, "...enticing Master James. I may have to try that again sometime soon. You kiss as well as a woman." For Saundra, that was very high praise indeed. "I'm easy, but I'm cheap," I answered smiling. "You kiss as well as a woman too, which is good because that's my bent. But my intransigent slut here is awaiting her jewelry. Let's take care of this business first." Veronica moaned softly, then moaned again with more feeling when Saundra touched a button on the side of the table. With muted hum the table began moving. Her eyes were wide with alarm as the tabletop shifted beneath her. When the motor stopped, Veronica found herself half inclined with her legs spread wide, knees bent and her bare ass perched on the very edge with a small padded section beneath her tailbone. Saundra positioned five flexible arms that were attached to a fixture in the ceiling. Three featured surgical lamps which she used to illuminate Veronica's chest, her belly and the area surrounding her Mons Veneris. A video camera and monitor were attached to the fourth and fifth. Saundra aimed the camera at Veronica's breasts, while I positioned the monitor to ensure that Veronica had an intimate view. Once Veronica was set to her satisfaction, Saundra removed her gauntlets and invited me to scrub up. Her enthusiasm was obvious, but she took great care to ensure that her hands were clean. She made certain that mine were too. Once we were properly gloved, she had me position a tray upon which her instruments lay. Needles, each in its own sterile tube, along with a large selection of body jewelry. Saundra takes no chances. An autoclave sat on the counter. She had sterilized the jewelry that morning. "Where shall we start and which of these shall she wear for you?" Saundra asked, waving at the selection of jewelry. "We'll start at the top and go down: nipples first, then bellyring and her clit last," I answered. "All of stainless steel. We can get fancy when she heals, if she deserves the change. If not, she can keep the steel, just like any other common submissive." Mrs Hart didn't care for that appellation one bit. In her mind, she wasn't a common anything. Deal with it Veronica. I spotted a belly ring that was a bit more ornate than plain stainless steel. I liked it: it would fit the situation without compromising Mrs Hart too severely if someone else got a glimpse. I looked into Veronica's apprehensive eyes and said, "She hasn't done very well so far. Way to much lip for a proper sub. Let's give her something to remind her constantly of her place. Give her the largest rings her nipples can take, each with a captured bead. For her belly, she can have that curved barbell with the flogger dangle. She deserves something special for her pussy though: let's give her two decorations." Veronica's eyes widened. Any remarks she may have made were garbled by the ball gag, though her thoughts were clear: she was casting a 'nay' vote. Too bad that her vote didn't count. "Give her an HCH: a ring with a captured bead through the hood of her clit," I continued, smiling with everything but my eyes. "If she's built for it, give her triangle piercing too. Use that circular barbell with two beads. If that won't work, give her two Princess Dianas with barbells. In that case, be certain that the two bottom beads make contact with her clit. I want her to be aware every waking moment that she is mine to do with as I will for the next three months. I want her own body to tell her that she belongs to me." Saundra's answering burst of laughter was rich with malevolent glee. "Oh Master James," she said giggled warmly when she recovered enough to speak, "that's why I love to share a scene with you. You are so casually cruel, yet so fiendishly inventive." She caught something out of the corner of her eye and turned her attention to Veronica. "Have you thought it through, my pet? Did you make the connection? Yes?" Saundra looked deep into Veronica's eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Yes," she said with satisfaction. "I believe you got it, finally. It took you long enough. Since we have you incapable of speech, I'll say it for you: 'Jay', 'Em', 'Em' – James Mark Masterson." Veronica's eyes were suddenly huge in her pale face. She stared at me, as though I'd transformed myself into either the man of her dreams or a monster from her worst nightmare. Maybe both. Her shock was plain to behold. Saundra stepped back to allow me her place between her legs. I looked down on her and cupped her chin. Her astonishment was complete. She didn't flinch. She didn't try to pull away. She only stared up at me, grey eyes wide with total surprise. "Yes my dear Mrs Hart," I confirmed. "Cassandra is one of my submissives, as is Tinkerbelle. I took the red hot branding iron in hand and seared my initials into Cassandra's bare ass. She'll wear that scar for the rest of her life. Believe it or not, she'll wear it proudly. I've had requests by others to join my – my coterie. None has been accepted. Until you, that is: you are the third. You're joining whether you like it or not. Cassandra will tell you the story of her branding later. For now, your job is to accept the fact that you truly are mine to take or leave as I will. Whether or not you like it is of no concern to me. Perhaps you finally understand that now." I glanced down between her legs, then cupped her bare vulva. Her netherlips were puffed and gooey. Her nipples were stones perched high on her bare breasts. Veronica was as turned on as she was shocked; as excited as ever she had been. At my touch, her eyes closed; her neck arched; she moaned. Her back bowed. A vast shudder raced through her captured body. If she hadn't climaxed, it was certainly a fair approximation of one. I turned to glance at Saundra. She met my eyes with a smirk. "You've done it again, Master James," she murmured softly. "You have the touch, no doubt. Oh, she'll fight you at times, but deep down she knows the truth. She can't escape herself. As much as she may hate it, she needs you now. I envy you that rush; that sensation of ultimate power over another. It is delicious, isn't it? I must find another for myself. A woman. Straight, like this one. An executive; a woman with power. Someone who will rebel and rebel and rebel, until she finally comes to realize her place at my feet. Jesus, the rush!" Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 16 Saundra was turned on too. If I'd cupped her pussy at that moment, I'd have felt goo there too. She saw it in my eyes. For a split second, I saw hunger; raw need, then it was gone. Mistress Saundra was back with a vengeance. Her eyes glittered, daring me. Hhhhmmmm! Well now! That has definite possibilities! Instead, I bussed the end of her nose. She looked startled, then grinned. Time out. Oh baybuh! As much as I wanted to at that moment, I had to back away. Mr Snake was sniffing pussy again; pussy not quite within reach. Down boy. Let's finish up with our dear Veronica, and leave the Bitch Goddess for another day. She's right about one thing though: what a rush that would be. No doubt! Time in. "Let me get back in there," she said smiling at the prospect. "I'm eager to finish marking her for you. Your Tinkerbelle is going to be a very busy little girl tonight. By the way, thanks for lending her to me." I laughed. "No problem, Mistress Saundra. I don't mind sharing with you, nor with Mistress Gwendolyn either. You are the only Dominants that I allow that privilege though. You two are special in so many ways." I bowed my head and brushed her bare nipple with my lips. Both nipples popped cherry at the touch of my lips; flushed gumdrops perched high on her bare breasts. Mistress Saundra maintained her persona, but only with effort. I saw the nisus in her eyes. She knew that I saw. We were both content, knowing that it would not end there. Time out. Jesus I loved that by-play there. The two of us were gonna get to it at some point. Who would win? As she said, what a rush! Time in. I glanced down at Veronica and continued, "As you say, let's finish with this one. I think that Mistress Gwendolyn will have Cassandra primed by the time we're through. I believe that she will be sharing our bed tonight." Veronica's eyes were huge again. Saundra laughed. Veronica flushed and looked down, avoiding our gaze. Saundra and I laughed together. I'm certain that Mrs Hart found it quite evil. Humiliating at least. Tough shit. It made her wet though. Still chuckling, we returned to work. Saundra had me thoroughly rinse Veronica's breasts with special cleanser, taking special care to wash her areolae and nipples. Veronica watched with guarded eyes, but was otherwise still. I think that she was embarrassed that she had cum, and hoping that we hadn't noticed. No such luck Mrs Hart. "You do get gooey when you cum Veronica," I mused looking down at her pussy. "We may need to equip you with a sponge instead of a panty liner when we're done here." Veronica's face instantly flushed scarlet. Saundra's burst of delighted laughter exacerbated Mrs Hart's embarrassment. She refused to meet out eyes. Still chuckling, Saundra picked up a fine point marker pen, then took my place, stepping between Veronica's wide-spread legs. She carefully imprinted a tiny purple dot to either side of each nipple. She stepped back a moment to judge the placement. She looked to me and smiled at my nod. She stepped forward again, and prepared a rather large hollow needle. Then, forceps at the ready in her left hand, she smiled down upon my 'acquisition' now her 'patient'. She flicked Veronica's left nipple with a latex-clad fingertip. Already crinkled and standing tall upon her bare breast, the nipple flushed darker and rose higher as her areola tightened. Veronica gasped behind the gag, then caught her breath as the forceps closed firmly upon the throbbing bud. The needle point pricked the dot. "Hold very still now, my pet," Saundra warned. " Take a deep breath. I'll count to three. One, two, th – " then thrust the needle firmly through the nipple. Veronica's body spasmed, and she let out a muffled cry. Her eyes closed sending two tears trickling down her cheeks. Saundra stepped back, ignoring Veronica's pain, to consider again the placement. The needle was left in place centered through the base of the nipple. Satisfied, she stepped forward again and prepared a second needle. "Here we go again, sweet'ums," she announced with the forceps gripping Veronica's other nipple. "Don't move, or I'll have to do it over. Ready? Take a deep breath. Hold it. One – " again she thrust the needle through. Veronica maintained better the second time. She gave a muffled yelp, and her eyes watered, but she didn't move. Saundra motioned me back with her to judge the placement. Veronica half lay upon the table naked looking down upon her breasts. Two large needles remained suspended there halfway through her nipples. Both were perfectly centered, in line with one-another and parallel to her shoulders. Her eyes flickered up to the video monitor, then down again to her breasts. She shivered. "Very good Mistress Saundra," I said warmly. "You truly are an artiste." "Yes. I am," she acknowledged with confident pride. "Now let's finish this part. I'm looking forward to decorating our little slut's pussy. I've an idea that I think you'll like. I had our rather large friend machine the pieces for me." Apparently Mistress Saundra had gotten Maxine to help out with the preparations. Veronica didn't like the sound of that at all. Deal with it Mrs Hart. Or don't. It's gonna happen anyway. She squirmed uncomfortably through the next few minutes as Saundra finished inserting the rings. Each had a captive bead which Saundra centered below the nipple. Saundra gave her a wicked smile and said to me, "This isn't particularly painful. She just doesn't like me fondling her breasts. I am going to have so much fun with her when she comes to me for training. Your pet will too." Veronica stiffened. Her eyes spoke volumes. No, I doubt very much that she'd enjoy herself. Saundra definitely; Veronica just as definitely, not. At Saundra's request, I adjusted the video camera down from Veronica's breasts to her belly. While I made the adjustment, Saundra washed her hands and donned fresh gloves. The belly ring took almost no time. Veronica hardly noticed. She spent most of the time peering down at her breasts rather than at the monitor, watching Saundra pierce the flesh above her navel. Personally, I believed that getting a bellyring was the least of her concerns. I thought that she was much more worried that we were getting close to her pussy. A needle through her tummy was nothing compared to what was coming. Again, Saundra's placement was perfect. The fitting on the end of the barbell held a pear shaped three carat blue sapphire solitaire, centered over her navel. The handle of the flogger hung beneath, from which dangled the five chain strands of the miniature whip. Each ended in a tiny spiked ball in which was embedded a diamond chip. The bellyring was expensive and elegant; just like Veronica herself. To bad that she was also a bitch on wheels. Veronica's fear was palpable as Saundra raised the table, then adjusted the stirrups as wide as Veronica's legs could extend. Her eyes got wider and wider as the motor hummed. She mewed franticly as the muscles of her inner thighs stretched. The outer lips of her vulva separated, exposing the delicate inner lips with a small gap below. Her relief was only momentary when the motor stopped. Saundra cupped the pouting lips of her vulva, then said, "Oh to have my new strapless strap-on or even my flogger right now. Either would be delicious. Or both; then I could tenderize your cute little pussy before I fucked it." Veronica's body surged upward, straining against the straps. She thrashed desperately, attempting to lift herself away from Saundra's fingers, but the straps insisted upon holding her in place. Saliva bubbled from the corners of her mouth around the ballgag. Outraged, she mewed frantically, but Saundra only grinned at her antics, then reached down to peel back the hood, exposing Veronica's clit. Veronica's wriggling grew ever more frenzied as Saundra delicately massaged her pearl. Her muffled moans took on a pleading note as Saundra leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek. Her lipstick left a blood-red imprint of her lips behind. "Oh we are going to have so much fun together, babycakes," Saundra whispered intimately. "I can feel you getting wet, even through these gloves. You're making me wet too. I can barely wait to get you on your back naked and spread your thighs wide. I'm going to so enjoy fucking you. I bet I can make you cum even quicker that Master James. From what I've seen, he's an expert, but I know all the spots that heat up a girl fast." There was no sense arguing with Saundra about that topic. I knew Veronica's buttons very well. But something told me that Saundra would have a party discovering them for herself. Veronica slumped in her bonds when Saundra stepped back. While my 'baggage' regained her composure, Saundra retrieved a small plastic tube from a rack in one drawer. Grinning evilly, she showed me the contents. I matched her grin and nodded my acceptance. She stiffened again, but Saundra patted her thigh. "Relax my pet. It will soon be over. As much as I'd love to have you licking my pussy this afternoon, I've already promised Tinkerbelle the opportunity to please her Mistress. Besides, I believe Master James has plans for you. Now be perfectly still. You don't want to screw this one up. I won't be happy if this is not perfect too, and we both know what happens if I'm not happy." While Saundra washed her hands again, I washed Veronica's pussy with disinfectant soap, then rinsed her vulva with saline solution and patted her dry with sterile wipes. Once she was ready, I adjusted the camera to show a general view of her mons. Positioning was difficult, but I managed to give Veronica a view from over Saundra's shoulder. Once the camera was set, Saundra had me wash and glove again. I had no plans to get anywhere near Veronica's pussy until we were through, but Saundra is nothing if not thorough. Saundra donned fresh gloves too then regained her place between Veronica's widespread legs. Once seated, she glanced at the tray. Everything was ready. With a new, wider set of forceps and her pen in hand, Saundra bent in concentration. Veronica's eyes were centered on the monitor. She gasped helplessly when Saundra captured her hood and clit, then pulled out slightly, stretching the tender flesh. She placed a dot on either side, then sat back to judge the placement. Apparently satisfied, she took the forceps with the needle from the tray, got a fresh grip upon Veronica's bits, then glanced up at her face. "Take a deep breath sweet'ums," she said with a smile. "This won't hurt much at all. Well, maybe a teensy bit. Stay still now." Veronica was not at all reassured, but was apparently resigned to her fate. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as instructed. Saundra centered the needle on the dot. Concentrating upon her aim, she waited until Veronica's breath caught. She announced, "I'm going to count – " then pressed the needle through her target. The tip of the needle passed straight through the point of aim and emerged in the center of the far dot. "Onetwothree. That's done." Veronica blinked. Her eyes were round with surprise. She looked in the monitor and was shocked to see the needle apparently spearing the base of her clit, but there was no discomfort. A spot of blood welled from beside the needle tip. Within a few moments, Saundra had slipped the circular barbell in place and tightened the bead upon the bare end. She sat back again, then glanced up at me with a smile. "Jesus I'm good!" she said smiling. "That looks perfect." "No doubt," I agreed, matching her smile. "You are an exceptional artiste; with many instruments. Whips, chains, floggers, needles, you name it. You are talented in the extreme." We laughed together, though I don't believe Veronica was at all amused. Tough shit. "One more to go, then were finished," Saundra said as she stripped off her gloves and donned a fresh pair. "Open the tube, but don't take it out. When I'm ready, I'll have you slide it into my hand." She took her pen in hand again and bent to mark the aim points for the HCH adornment. By this point Veronica was calm, though still less than happy to be belted naked to the examination table with her legs pulled up and spread wide, and chewing on a ballgag. Like I said, tough shit. Deal with it Mrs Hart. Saundra sat back to consider the placement again. She shook her head, brushed away the first marks and made new targets, slightly higher than the previous, then sat back again. Still dissatisfied, she looked up to me. "Move that camera. The 'baggage' has had her show for now. She can examine herself later." She laid her hand, palm up over the tray. "Slide that thing into my palm, please. Carefully. We don't want to have that thing fall on the floor. It'd take a half-hour to sterilize it again. There's no 'five second' rule in this venue." I laughed and almost dropped the jewelry, but she caught it and gave me a grin. "Nice catch, Arod," I said. "Now let's see where it'll fit best." Saundra centered the new piece above the freshly inserted jewelry, then moved it up and down a few times. "There I think," she said studying the effect. "That looks best, and the bead will sit right where it will do the most good. What do you think?" She glanced up to me. "Phat!," I answered. "Perfect as usual. And it will be easy to see if anyone looks closely, which I'm guessing is the reason you chose this particular piece." "Oh yeah!" she answered, judging the placement again. "She might need a magnifying mirror, but anyone else that gets close will be able to see it clearly." To say that we had Veronica's attention was a vast understatement. She was desperate to see, but in her position, there was no way she could. Until she was released, she would have to use her imagination; and her imagination was killing her. Deal with it Mrs Hart. Five minutes later, target dots in place, Saundra pierced the hood of Veronica's clit. Her aim was true again. She hadn't bothered to count. Two minutes after that, the last bead was screwed in place. Veronica's piercing ordeal was over. "Shall we let her see before we let her down, Master James?" Saundra asked with an evil grin. "We may as will Mistress Saundra," answering both her query and grin. "We'll use your video monitor so she can get a close-up of herself." I moved the camera and adjusted the lens to provide a tight shot of Veronica's bare vulva. Saundra stood by, watching Veronica's face while I adjusted the focus. The flush blooming across Veronica's cheeks and the expression of panic in her eyes were the clue that the focus was perfect. Centered on the monitor was a magnified image of her hairless vulva. Balanced upon the center of the hood of her clit was the ring with a captured bead of polished stainless steel. That bead was positioned squarely atop her clit. Each of the three beads were etched in script so small to be indecipherable without a magnifying glass. In that finely etched script, upon the captured bead of the ring were initials. Below and to either side, the stainless steel beads of the circular barbell framed her clit. Each of those beads also had words inscribed; taken together, a badge of possession. Read as one, the words became a comment; a proclamation: Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 17 This is the twenty-sixth installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter XVII Post-piercing play ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart... sexy... sophisticated... and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Oh Mrs Hart! Just what have you done now!? Veronica appears to be less than overjoyed with her new jewelry. Despite repeated warnings, she demonstrates her displeasure. Bad move dear. So while Mrs Hart gets some remedial education courtesy of Mistress Gwendolyn, James and the gang relax. And, as usual, Mr Snake is sniffing fresh pussy... Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XVII Post-piercing play '...Deal with it Mrs Hart. Or don't. It's gonna happen anyway...' Veronica was uncharacteristically subdued when Mistress Saundra and I released her from the examination table. I think that she'd had too many shocks in too little time. Her only comment when Saundra unbuckled the ballgag was a croaked, "Thank you..." she swallowed then added "...Mistress Saundra." Her hesitation had more to do with a dry mouth than any reluctance to pronounce the title. That Saundra had her quirt looped around one wrist again probably had little to do with it. Personally, I think Mrs Hart decided that discretion was the better part of valor. She was desperate to leave the confines of that dungeon with her ass intact. She assumed that the tenderness she was feeling from being pierced four times in one sitting was quite enough. As usual, she assumed wrong. Mistress Gwendolyn had yet to receive her thanks, and knowing Veronica, she was bound to screw that up somehow. Saundra nodded imperiously, then stalked out of the room. Veronica turned toward the screen to get dressed, but I stood blocking her way. I gestured toward the door. Veronica's face fell, but I remained unmoved. "You have a couple of tasks to complete before we leave, the first of which is to thank Mistress Gwendolyn for the use of her facilities. For that, you need to be properly arrayed. You've seen how she prefers submissives to be dressed while in her dungeon. It's time to don your harness, lest she take offense. And you don't want to meet Mistress Gwendolyn when she's pissed. Trust me." Mrs Hart had regained a bit of her personality once freed of the table. Her color was high; her eyes flashing again. But the thought of enduring a session with a pissed off Mistress made her bite back any argument. That and I think she was a little bit afraid of what I might do too. Finally. Her ultimate goal was to get the hell out of Dodge as quickly as possible, with as much of her skin and dignity attached as possible under the circumstances. She appeared to remember that at the last second. Rather than say that which was so obviously on her mind, she squared her shoulders, dropped her eyes and nodded. The flush on her face demonstrated the effort it had taken. She didn't see the brief smile that twitched across my lips at her capitulation. She stood passively, but vibrating with fury, fear – and if the truth be told – at least a little bit of excitement as I buckled the thick collar around her neck, then secured her wrists in the cuffs. She bit her lip and gave a quickly suppressed moan when I tightened the strap, lifting her wrists higher. When her back was arched to my satisfaction, I buckled the strap in place, then turned her to face me. She didn't like it, but submitted quietly as I checked her oil. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as my finger pressed through the folds of her sex, then out. Mrs Hart was wet again. She looked fabulous in her new jewelry, particularly as she was naked but for the thick leather collar with her arms cuffed high behind her back. She shifted, widening her stance at my gesture. With her arms pulled up and the collar tight around her throat, her back was bowed slightly and her head held high. Her heavy breasts were pulled up, jutting from her chest. Her bare nipples stood tall and crinkled cherry, both from the influence of the rings dangling and the terror and excitement of the moment. The muscles of her belly tightened under my gaze. The dangles danced from the sapphire tear covering her navel. Below, centered about her hairless vulva, three beads and the ring twinkled in the light, all framing the delicate flesh over her clit. I stepped close to brush a fingertip over the silver ball centered upon her clit. Veronica shivered. Her cheeks flushed anew. Her eyes remained lowered, but I could see them widened with surprise at the sensation. Once the wounds healed and the soreness disappeared, there was no doubt that Mrs Hart would quite enjoy the effects of her piercings. Veronica was definitely gooey. As much as I wanted to bend her over the table and fuck her senseless, I resisted the temptation. Mr Snake was not pleased, but the last thing either of us needed was for Mrs Hart's piercings to become infected. Neither did Veronica herself. Saundra had a little bag of goodies prepared for her, including antibacterial soap, sterile saline solution and a set of instructions for the care and treatment of the piercings. I knew that Saundra had already placed the bag in my car. Mrs Hart shivered again when I fastened a leash to her collar. Humiliation flashed upon her face; anger too. But she maintained her silence. She seemed to realize that nothing good could come from a show of defiance when standing in a dungeon naked with her arms cuffed behind her back. Smart girl. Finally. I turned away that she wouldn't see the smile twitching my lips. I looked her over again, then gave her a last warning. "Be nice now, Mrs Hart. Remember: though you have a sharp tongue, Mistress Gwendolyn has no use for a visitor to her domain that doesn't know his or her place, and she's the one carrying the whip. As you can imagine, she knows well how to use it too. If she wants something, give it to her, and give it to her fast. Without the hesitation and/or histrionics that you give me." I nodded toward the door. "Head up. Shoulders back. Be humble, as difficult as that may be for you. Now come. Let's show Mistress Gwendolyn your new jewelry, and be sure to thank her too." Veronica loathed to be ordered to do anything, let alone to display herself dressed – pardon me, undressed – as she was. Particularly since I had the handle of the leash in my hand following her through the door. The burst of applause sounding at her appearance startled her into looking up. All four women were there clapping. Tinkerbelle was as yet unrecognizable in her bondage hood. Wendy was clapping the loudest. I think the sight of her bitch of a boss naked and bound in a harness while displaying her various unwanted piercings made her very happy. She and Cassandra knelt on pillows at the feet of the two Mistresses, who sat at ease awaiting her entrance. Their seats were more thrones than anything else: massive baroque chairs of dark, intricately carved wood with plush padded cushions and high, arched backs. A closer look revealed that the back, legs and arms were carved in the shape of men and women wearing bondage harnesses and very little else. The carvings were detailed and the details were very explicit. Veronica was still embarrassed by the attention, but somehow pleased, almost preening. That is until she realized that the others were congratulating me and especially Saundra for Veronica's presentation and the exquisite nature of her adornments. Not unlike Eliza, Mrs Hart was getting no credit. She didn't like that. Tough shit Mrs Hart. She liked it less when I led her up to Gwendolyn, who closely examined each of the piercings and proclaimed all the best aggregate that she had ever seen. With magnifying glass in hand, she fingered each jewel and the flesh surrounding it without any apparent regard for Veronica's modesty. One finger slipped through the divide of her vulva to gently lift the ring for better viewing. Mrs Hart really didn't like that, though her areolae and nipples were bursting from her bare breasts, and her pussy was puffy before Gwendolyn sat back and laid the glass aside. "Exquis! Merveilleux! Simplement parfait!" she exclaimed with delight. "Mistress Saundra, you have outdone yourself. Master James, your selection is simply perfect. And look, the engraving are there for all to see who would do so. There can be no mistake what this one is, nor to whom she belongs. If they could see it, all the members would be jealous of your taste. You must display it soon. I'm certain that I speak for Mistress Saundra when I say that we would be glad to accompany you, should you choose a formal unveiling of your collective work." Mrs Hart had no idea of her meaning, but suspected that it meant nothing good for her. She was right. Veronica would be so not happy displaying her finery for one and all at the B&D club of which we three were all members. Tough shit Veronica. I see a coming out party in the near future, with you as the featured performer. After all, there are plenty of ways to keep one's identity secret, even when one is, shall we say, formally undressed. I smiled guilelessly. "I have an idea for that which we can discuss later. I'm sure that you both will approve. Let's leave it for now though. The idea needs some careful thought. Meanwhile, my 'baggage' has a few things to say to both of you." Veronica stiffened, then gasped when I passed the handle of the leash to Gwendolyn. Oh she didn't like that. At all. Worse, despite my warning, the distraction caused Mrs Hart to lose focus on her goal. Gwendolyn gave the leash a gentle tug. Mrs Hart resisted for a moment, then with little grace, she dropped to her knees upon a pillow at Gwendolyn's feet. Her flush deepened though her eyes remained downcast. There's no doubt that she was paying close attention though. She swayed back slightly when Gwendolyn reached out to cup her breast, but froze when Gwendolyn's riding crop tapped her bare hip. With a stifled sigh, she leaned forward again as though offering her breasts. Gwendolyn glanced up to me, then down to Mrs Hart. All warmth was gone from her voice when she spoke. "Maître Jacques mon ami, the presentation is excellent; however the presenter needs training. As I'm certain you well know. I would suggest that the additional training take place before any formal presentation. Neither you nor Mistress Saundra would care for the ensuing embarrassment if such a shocking thing were to occur in front of the other members." "As usual, you are quite correct Mistress Gwendolyn," I agreed icily. "My 'baggage' has much to learn about deportment. Worse, one can tell by her actions and attitude that she still believes that her body is hers to control, despite the instruction she has received over the last two days." I stepped closer to Veronica and gathered her auburn mane in one hand. She mewed softly when I pulled her head back so that she was staring up at me. I glanced at Gwendolyn. "I have a lot of work to do one this one. Almost more than it's worth," I said dryly. "Would you care to help?" "That would please me greatly James," Gwendolyn answered with a smile. "I was hoping that you would make that request of me." "I would be all that much further in your debt," I said. Nodding to Saundra, I continued. "Mistress Saundra has been offered weekly punishment sessions over the next month in partial payment for her efforts. Perhaps, given that you have the time, you could take four yourself." Mrs Hart swayed upon her knees as she listened to her doom. "That would be a marvelous gift, mon cher ami," Gwendolyn accepted with a smile. "I will take great pleasure in teaching this one the ways of submission. I think that she will too." Gwendolyn reached out to gently brush her gloved fingertips across Veronica's lips, leaving a glistening trail. Veronica was shocked to taste the wet of a woman's excitement there, fresh from her own pussy. "Taste yourself ma réticente une; savor the evidence of your passion," she whispered softly to Veronica, her intimately husky voice gentle with understanding. "You cannot hide yourself or your excitement from such as us. Look: even now your nipples crinkle with excitement. You pretend to hate this, but we know that you need it. It is your penchant, chère; your addiction. If your Master set you completely free today, you would be back at his feet begging to be taken within the week. He knows you and knows your needs. He is strong enough to care for you; to satiate those needs." Mrs Hart's eyes grew wide. One would have expected to see outrage, at least disdain there. Instead, for an instant, we could all see the truth of Gwendolyn's statement reflected. Veronica immediately tried to cover, but we knew; and she knew the we knew. She hated that. Reading her conflict, Gwendolyn laughed softly, then in an instant became Mistress Gwendolyn again. Both Tinkerbelle and Cassandra just as instantly recognized the shift. They shivered. Mrs Hart was slower, left behind as usual. Oh well. She would learn and the process would be painful. Gwendolyn glanced up to me. Her eyebrow lifted. "Yes, if it is your wish, Mistress Gwendolyn," I said in answer to the unspoken question, "the first of her sessions with you begins now. Apparently we must whip the intransigence out of her. Too bad. I had planned to escort her to lunch this afternoon. Instead I will ask Mistress Saundra to accompany me." I glanced at Saundra, who nodded with a smile. "These toys of mine will come too," I continued, gesturing to Cassandra and Wendy, "leaving my 'baggage' in your capable hands for the nonce. Please call me when you tire of her presence." I released my grip on Veronica's hair. Mistress Saundra took my arm. We turned together for the door without another word, leaving Veronica on her knees naked at Gwendolyn's feet. Tinkerbelle and Cassandra rose gracefully behind to follow. Veronica blanched. Much too late she began babbling her apologies. "No! James! M-master! I'm sorry! Please – " Before she could say anything further, Mistress Gwendolyn laid the tip of her riding crop across her lips. "No ma chère fille. You have no say in this. Begging will not change the outcome, though it does please me to hear those words of supplication tumble from your lips." The heavy door clanged loudly, punctuating her assertion and cutting off Veronica's sob. "Before lunch, I could do with a bit of relaxation, Mistress Saundra," I said as we climbed the stairs. "How about a glass of wine on the porch overlooking the river. These two can see to our needs before we eat." I waved behind at Cassandra and Wendy. "That is the second best idea that you've had today," Saundra exclaimed, eyes twinkling. "Possibly the third. Leaving that cunt in Mistress Gwendolyn's care for the afternoon was definitely the best. Though a glass of wine while one of your pets is seeing to my needs may tie with having that 'baggage' of yours pierced." "And you did such a wonderful job of that too," I said smiling. "Mrs Hart definitely looks the better for it. So much so that I'm considering whether or not a tattoo would add to her appeal." "Oooh that's a great idea!" she exclaimed happily. "What design do you have in mind?" "It just occurred to me," I answered. "I haven't given either a design or placement any thought. Whatever and wherever, I'm sure that she will despise the result." "Good!" Saundra said smiling. "She is easy to loathe; which makes it so much fun to torment her." While we talked I uncorked a bottle of nice Pinot Gris from Gwendolyn's wine chiller. Meanwhile, Saundra relieved Wendy of the bondage hood and sent her and Cassandra to clean up. Wendy was a sweaty mess from spending the morning locked in the hood. She blushed when she saw my glance, but smiled when I winked. Saundra gave her bare ass a smack and sent her on her way. Fritz, Lady and Bruno, Gwendolyn's German Shepherds, trotted around the corner to give us the once over as we stepped out onto the veranda, but soon wandered toward the front of the house, attending to their duties. Within twenty minutes, Cassandra and Wendy were back, attending to theirs. Cassandra appeared first, naked but for a micro v-string: sheer white, tight against the plump lips of her sex. Being a gentleman, I nodded toward Saundra. Ladies first. Cassandra's nipples popped as she went to her knees between Saundra's legs. She quickly unsnapped the fasteners from Saundra's hips and laid bare the plump lips of the Mistress's vulva. Talk about prime pussy! Apparently Saundra was averse to hair on her puss. Either that or it was that she preferred a clean canvas for the intricate tattoo gracing her mons, because she was plucked bald, and I do mean bald. Her hair is naturally white blond, but there was the faintest evidence of it growing on her body below her neck. I'd bet the Miata's pink slip that Mistress Saundra had gone through electrolysis at some point in her career. Nice tattoo; very nice pussy. The sight made Mr Snake stand up for a better look. He was sniffing for pussy again, and starting to feel left out. Saundra leaned back to enjoy the agile tongue delving there, raising her glass to me as she did so. I tipped mine to her and settled back to watch the action. Cassandra's tight ass looked so fine thrust out as she arched her back to get at Saundra's pussy. The lips of her sex bulged out between her sleek thighs, gauzy but there for me to see through the sheer panel of her panties. I bet myself that Cassandra knew I was watching, and gave her ass an extra shake now and then, either to tease or invite. Maybe both. Excuse me, what was I thinking: knowing Cassandra, definitely both. Having me fuck her while she was giving another woman head would get her pumping adrenaline quick. Hell, even the thought of it seemed to spur her on. Saundra was getting more than her fair share of stimulation. She seemed to enjoy the extra attention. Wendy was not far behind Cassandra, which made Mr Snake very happy. She looked much more appealing with her face clean and hair washed and dried. She too wore just a little bit of a v-string. Hers was pink and just as sheer as Cassandra's. Within moments Mr Snake was wet and warm, uvula deep inside one of his favorite places, with a talented tongue laving his shaft. Little Tinkerbelle is very good at giving head. She likes to keep eye contact too while she plays. She can't quite deep throat, but she is very good at sucking, and she has very gentle hands. She also likes to take my nuts in her mouth, then hums a little tune. Oh mutha! The sexual tension was high after our time in the dungeon. All of us, including Cassandra and Wendy, were halfway to orgasm even before they went to work on Saundra and I. So much so that even Mistress Saundra had no objection when Cassandra slipped a hand beneath the panel of her panties to pleasure herself. Of course Cassandra didn't neglect her duties either. Her lips and tongue remained glued to Saundra's bare vulva throughout. The shudders racing through Cassandra's body when she flicked herself just right were transmitted through contact to Saundra's clit. Mistress Saundra liked that very much. I know because she told us so. In a loud voice. Frequently. She and Cassandra seemed to climax simultaneously. If one made it before the other, it was not at all apparent. They even finished and came down together. Very nice show. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 17 Listening to Mistress Saundra get some set me off too. As I said, Wendy is getting quite good at giving head. She seemed to enjoy herself too. She too had a hand busy in her panties while she was giving Mr Snake a soak. She reached out and got some for herself when she felt my cum shooting across her tongue. That sweet little Tinkerbelle was sucking the cum from my dick while experiencing an orgasm herself gave me an extra thrill. You already know that Tinkerbelle swallows too. After Cassandra and Wendy licked up the messes they'd made, I zipped up long enough to pour each a glass of wine to go with our refills. Saundra instructed them to sit with us. Tinkerbelle planted her little butt on the deck between Saundra's legs and all but purred as the Mistress absently combed her fingers through her hair while we talked. Cassandra Insisted upon removing my 550's, boots and socks, then sat on her heels with her knees on a pillow between my legs. Mr Snake was snoozing in her gentle hand while she sipped her wine and enjoying the conversation. Occasionally Cassandra would lean in and give Mr Snake an open-mouthed kiss. Chyaa, her lips felt good! Her mouth was cool from the wine and Mr Snake was groovin' to it. Before long, the conversation lagged as the ladies got back to it. Saundra bent to whisper in Wendy's ear. She grinned, then hopped to her feet and ran to retrieve Saundra's bag. Meanwhile, Cassandra lost her v-string, then straddled my lap by threading her lithe legs between the arms and the seat of the lounging chair. Her feet were flat on the floor to either side. She had just enough room to raise herself and slip Mr Snake's head into the portal of her pussy. Her breath caught, then she gave a muted moan as she sank onto my lap again, driving Mr Snake deep. Satisfied to be stretched so, she grabbed hold of the back of the chair, then arched her back to raise her bare breasts to my lips. Cassandra loves it when I chew on her nipples. Between nibbles, I glanced to the other couple and found that they were preparing to duplicate our positions. I murmured something to Cassandra. She looked over her shoulder and we watched the other two for a few minutes while Mr Snake gave Cassandra's cervix a long, drawn out kiss. With Wendy's assistance, Saundra removed her boots and stockings. With Saundra's assistance, Wendy removed her g-string. Then Saundra produced a rather odd shaped dildo from her bag. She passed it to Wendy who went to her knees between Saundra's legs. Watching the two of them made my dick throb, which Cassandra appreciated deeply. Very deeply. Saundra's legs rose gracefully from the deck with knees bent and toes pointed inwards. Her neck arched; her eyes closed; her breath caught when Wendy's face disappeared between her thighs. A major thrill ran through Saundra's body at the tongue flicking over her most sensitive bit. Her brow furrowed and white teeth flashed as she bit her lower lip. Her hands were claws gripping the arms of her chair as Wendy's head bobbed. Guttural moans whispered from her throat as Wendy pleasured her. At a whispered word, Wendy rose slightly, took the dildo in hand and began slowly pressing the odd-shaped knob through Saundra's slit. Saundra gasped as the knob slipped through the muscles guarding her entry, then caught my eye and grinned. Suddenly, there for all the world to see was Mistress Saundra with a big purple cock sprouting from her plump pussylips. Sonovabitch! The ultimate strapless strap-on! "It vibrates too!" she murmured contentedly, then turned her attention to Wendy. Tinkerbelle grinned at me too, then duplicated Cassandra's feat, though with a bit more trouble. Cassandra is a rock climber. She is, as Phoebe claims, 'very bendy'. Thank Bob, Wendy is small or she would have never made it. Her feet finally reached the floor to either side. Well, the balls of her feet did anyway. She had leverage, which was what counted. Both Saundra and Wendy were giggling before Wendy settled herself contentedly on that permanent purple hard-on. Or is that 'purple permanent hard-on? No matter. Wendy was content; a hard cock was cervix deep in her juicy pussy and definitely rocking her world. She quickly went to a new place when Saundra flipped on the vibrator. Saundra soon joined her. Time out. We later laughed until our sides hurt at the expression on the dog's faces when they came trotting around the corner to see what all the noise was about. I think Fritz and Bruno were all set to join in on the action. Lady sniffed her disdain and left soon thereafter. The two male dogs stayed until the end. Which wasn't long in cumming, if you will excuse the pun. I know. I'm workin' on it. Time in. I was the only one of the four not clued in, but Wendy and Cassandra were in a race to see which could cause Saundra or me to orgasm first, then cum herself. Saundra made an effort to keep the race fair. She held herself off as long as she could, knowing that I try to make certain the lady gets hers while I get mine. But the rule was Saundra or I had to climax first. Only then could she follow with hers. And she had to cum too. Saundra was the judge. As usual, her ruling was final. The winner got to make use of the loser for a day. No rules; anything goes; no argument; the winner got to call the shots; she could do it solo, or have anyone join in on the fun. I got a hint that something was up when Wendy told Cassandra that she couldn't wait to get her up dancing on The Board. Cassandra moaned; her nipples, already popped from my teeth action, just about burst. Mr Snake was drowning in pussyjuice. That kind of talk really gets Cassandra's adrenal glands working. Cassandra soon returned the favor by telling Mistress Saundra that she'd get to join in for a late afternoon session of Wendy eating her pussy while Cassandra fucked Tinkerbelle's ass with a big strap-on. Wendy called 'no fair' on the attempt to influence the judge, but Mistress Saundra just smacked her on the ass, reminding her that there were no rules on technique. Wendy changed tactics. Instead of talking she used her lack of stature to full advantage. While she pumped her ass, fucking herself and working the knob against Saundra's g-spot, she took Saundra's massive tits in her hands, then bent to sample Saundra's nipples with lips, teeth and tongue. Mistress Saundra too likes to have her nipples chewed. Cassandra's tactic almost backfired. The thought of getting the two women in a bed for an afternoon of wild sex lit Saundra's fuse. Despite her best efforts to hold off, she was nearing release. Cassandra must have realized it, so she changed the direction of both her verbal and physical efforts to me. As I may have mentioned, Cassandra's muscle control is excellent. Well she has this thing that she does with her pussy that is amazing. Almost like Natasha, Cassandra can use individual muscles in her vagina to ripple along my dick. Mr Snake was loving it. While that was happening, she began whispering to me, telling me that I would be invited too and that maybe I'd get a chance to fuck Mistress Saundra; maybe in the ass. That did it. For the first time since I was a kid in Misawa, I let go without worrying about the woman getting hers. I mean, I've learned to control my orgasms to a certain extent, and I'm always aware of where I'm at in relation to the woman with whom I'm fucking. Not that day. I lost conscious control. Cassandra pushed the right button at the right moment. A thrill went through me that I can't describe. In a heartbeat, I was history. I beat Saundra by an RCH. Even Lady popped back around the corner to check things out when I let loose. When she felt the cum pulsing through my dick, Cassandra let loose too. With hands locked behind my neck, back arched to a perfect bow, eyes rolled back and soprano voice echoing my baritone, Cassandra jammed her pelvis to my lap, driving Mr Snake deep, then ground herself against me. Her voice reached a never-before heard pitch when his head popped through her cervix and spit the last few pulses of cum directly into her womb. Saundra joined the chorus within seconds of our liftoff, then Wendy did too. Hers lasted the longest, but all the women came down just about together, though Tinkerbelle had the last word. That is if a long drawn out "Nnnneeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhh!" is counted as a word. Meanwhile on my lap, Cassandra held it for an age, vibrating; then slowly relaxed. Her muscles went liquid as she released her grip on my neck then slumped backward slowly until her shoulders met the deck and her head settled on the pillow. Her feet will still planted on the floor. Mr Snake was yet firmly ensconced deep in her pussy. Eyes closed, the last ripples ran through her vagina, milking the last drops of cum from my dick. I told you she is supple. After a moment, her eyes opened slightly. Her sky blue eyes were cloudy with residual passion, Cassandra smiled up at me from between her bare boobs. "Jesus, that was incredible," she whispered dreamily. I was too bushed to answer other than with a smile of my own. There was no doubt, but Saundra made the official call. Wendy was philosophic about her loss. She knew sooner or later she'd get Cassandra in a helpless position. "Cassandra won that one," she gasped limply. "Guess you get to eat my pussy and get ass-fucked one day soon," she said to Wendy, patting her bare back. "Oh well..." We all took a few minutes to recover. Saundra closed her eyes, breathing deeply and allowed Wendy to cuddle to her chest. After her breathing eased, she glanced over to me. "You caught on quicker than I thought you would, James," she said with a lazy smile, then her eyes closed again. "It was Wendy's idea but Cassandra was all for it. Me too. Cassandra's right: that was incredible. I thought we had you until the last moment. What set you off anyway?" "Cassandra's magic pussy," I answered with a grin. "She's got incredible muscle control, as you may have noticed." There was no reason to let her in on the whole story. Who knows; maybe I would get her in the doggie position one day. The idea of fucking Mistress Saundra in the ass caused Mr Snake to twitch. Cassandra closed her eyes and smiled blissfully at the sensation. Saundra opened one eye and gave me a considering look, but let it go. "I don't know about you three ladies," I said finally, "but I'm hungry. Let's get some lunch. There's an oyster bar twenty minutes down the road and I need to recover my strength." "James!" Cassandra exclaimed from the floor. "You can't be serious. I don't know if I can take another fucking like that one today." "Don't worry about it sweet thang," I answered. "If I get in the mood again, Mrs Hart can suck my dick. She ought to be happy to by the time I'm ready again. Anything to get away from Mistress Gwendolyn's whip." All four of us laughed until it hurt. Forty minutes later, we were sitting around a bistro table in the bar slurping fresh oysters and sundries. The restaurant was doing good business with maybe three groups in line ahead of us, but a table in the bar was available. Since the other groups had kids, we got the table. A line of ropes and a few hanging plants separated the two sections. Our table was next to the ropes. After a dozen oysters, I tried the house special, a big bowl of cioppino and a crab sandwich, both were as good or better than advertised. Saundra enjoyed a huge Crab Louie with plenty of Dungeness crab, while Wendy went for the Specialty Platter, which included a little bit of everything: crab, shrimp, scallops, halibut, prawns, you name it. Cassandra, ever the health nut, scarfed on mixed vegetables and a slab of Mahimahi. After a while, Wendy began feeding me bits from her plate. Way too much food for her on that platter. Cassandra got to wear a low rise black leather miniskirt, a sleeveless crop top of white lace and strappy sandals with four inch heels. Oh, and that delightful little v-string. Just the kind of outfit that she hates. Her areolae and nipples were dark through the white lace. The miniskirt sat way low on her hips with the waistband tight across the top of her mons and dropping a whopping eight inches to high thigh. A big chrome zipper ran from hem to waistband up the front of her left thigh. Before we left the house, I pulled the strings of her panties up across her hips. The whale was sounding, tail high. A baby whale I guess, that v-string didn't have much of a tail. Saundra dressed Wendy in a flirty little layered miniskirt, pink with white polka dots, a tight white knit tube top with attached short sleeves that left her shoulders and belly bare, her g-string and a pair of Lucite mules with three inch heels. Her miniskirt was a bit longer than Cassandra's, but flared more. Like Cassandra, Tinkerbelle's nipples embossed the top. Saundra, per usual, had caused a mini-sensation upon our entry to the restaurant. Must've been the spiked sandals with the five inch heels that buckled to her ankles. Maybe it was the quirt dangling from the chain belt circling her hips. It could have been her short shorts and/or that beautiful silk shirt. It may've been her white-blonde mane which was gathered with leather bands into a silken rope which stretched down past her thighs. Me, I thought her black leather boy shorts fit perfectly riding low on her hips. So what if the strings of her thong arched high across her hips, and the supple leather evidenced an outstanding camel toe. And I believe her magnificent tits looked just fine covered with a black shirt with the tails tied beneath her bust. That the shirt was made of sheer silk didn't bother me in the least. After all, though her naked breasts were certainly visible beneath the silk, the opaque shirt pockets covered her nipples completely. Well, almost completely, depending upon one's angle of view. Sure pissed off the family at the table in the restaurant section behind us though. The mother anyway. Her husband looked uncomfortable, though her two teenage sons didn't seem to mind. They particularly liked the way Saundra's low rise boy shorts displayed the first bit of the crease of her ass when we took our seats. The little black lace whale tail of her thong soared high from the crease. The daughter, a young teen, maybe fourteen, sure seemed interested too. Mom didn't know what was going on until she turned in her seat and found herself face to cheeks with that whale tail rising above the chink of Saundra's ass. Whoa baby, that set her off! Saundra ignored her increasingly acid comments for about two minutes, then calmly stood up, dropped her cloth napkin on the table and stepped over the rope behind mom. She shifted immediately into the Royal Bitch Goddess mode. Conversation at the table died a swift death, all except for mom who was looking at her plate, fork in hand, still making snide comments. She trailed off when her daughter urgently whispered 'Maw-um!', and she finally noticed that everyone's attention was concentrated about two feet above her head. She turned quickly and found herself face to diamond studded bellyring from a distance of about six inches. The diamonds set in the bellyring spelled out 'Obey!'. The bellyring was set in narrow expanse of very firm female flesh. Stunned, she peered up between two very prominent breasts into an incredibly imperious set of emerald green eyes. Mistress Saundra just glared down at her silently for about ten seconds, then bent from the waist to whisper in mom's ear. That Saundra was displaying an extraordinary amount of firm and very delectable cleavage to the kids, apparently didn't occur to her. Daughter dear's eyes grew quite round when she spotted Saundra's nipple jewelry. Mom blanched but listened closely until Saundra finished speaking, then turned, gave a shudder and stared down at the table. Finished with Mom, Saundra stepped to Dad's side and bent to whisper into his ear. That took about three seconds. His eyes went to his wife. His mouth set into a grim line. When Saundra finished, she smiled at the kids, rose, then stepped back to take her seat again. The kids were goggle-eyed. The 'rents ears were burning. She was embarrassed. He was pissed. Saundra resumed eating as though nothing had happened. Mom, dad and the kids quickly finished their meal, exiting soon thereafter without so much as another word sent in our direction. Wendy couldn't stand the suspense. "What did you say to them?" she asked breathlessly. Saundra glanced at her very directly. Abashed, Wendy began again, "I mean, what did you say to them, Mistress Saundra," she said, correcting herself. Appeased for the moment, Saundra deigned to explain. "I told Helen Christiansen that she was embarrassing herself and upsetting her family; that she should keep her comments to herself or I would bend her over the table, flip that silly Gap skirt over her chubby ass and take down her Victoria's Secret pink cotton hiphugger panties. Then I'd teach her some manners by tattooing her bare butt with my quirt right there in front of her children. When she appeared to understand, I told Fred Christiansen to learn to control his wife, or I would do it for him." Then Saundra calmly resumed eating her salad. Wendy was goggle-eyed too. "M-mistress Saundra," she stuttered. "H-how did you know her names?" Saundra took a bite and looked at me. I answered for her. "One, she heard their family name called by the seating hostess, as did you, though you may not recall. Two, she heard Mr Christiansen call his wife by her first name, and three I believe that Saundra knows one or the other in a professional capacity. From his reaction, probably Mr Christiansen." Then I too resumed eating. Wendy whirled to stare at Mistress Saundra. "He comes to you for... for..." She ran out of words. "No," Saundra speared a chunk of crab, then answered the unspoken question. "I go to him. He handles my insurance." Cassandra and I burst out laughing. Wendy blushed to her roots. Saundra gave me a wink and popped the hunk of crab into her mouth. Nonplussed for a moment, but still eager for information, Wendy gamely tried again. "Mistress Saundra, I'm sorry, but how did you know what she was wearing beneath... How did you know about her underwear?" Saundra rolled her eyes, but answered. "Jesus Tinkerbelle, you're a smart girl. If you'd think for a minute, you could tell me." She looked at Cassandra. "Why don't you tell her, sweetcheeks." Cassandra looked startled for a second, then grinned and said, "I don't know for certain, but here goes: the pantylines were obvious. I noticed them when we were standing in line behind them. The lines also showed what type of panties she's wearing: hiphuggers, like Mistress Saundra said. That skirt is really too small and tight for her; the lines stand out. If she's going to wear skirts like that, she really should wear thongs too. Also, I think Mistress Saundra made a good guess about the color and material. She strikes me too as the pink cotton panty type. "The next part is harder, but I'll guess. With three teenagers, mom has spent a lot of time in stores like The Gap, AF and Old Navy; stores geared for kids their age. Mom sometimes buys her stuff at stores like that in order to look younger; like her daughter's 'older sister'. The Victoria's Secret thing is probably because she also wants to feel a little bit hip and sexy, again partly because of the three kids. Like I said though, it's all guesswork on my part." "Not bad babycakes, not bad at all," Saundra said grudgingly. "Though if you'd looked you'd have seen a Gap tag on the skirt, and the girl was wearing the same skirt, though in a different color and much smaller. Also, a woman like that always shops at VS. She thinks that place is as decadent as you can get and still remain respectable. It probably makes her wet to wear those panties to church on Sunday. Either that or she feels guilty about it. Maybe both. In her world, only sluts wear thongs. Little does she know that the Junior Miss has a bagfull hidden somewhere. It's a safe bet she's wearing one now, but the whale sounds only when mom and dad aren't around." Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 17 "Okay, I see all that now," Wendy said eagerly, "but what blows me away is that you said those things to her, and she didn't throw a fit; she just sat there and took it. Why? I don't understand." Saundra instantly transformed into the Bitch Goddess again, apparently without moving a muscle. Wendy cringed, almost dropping to her knees right there. I put a hand on her arm to steady her. Wendy stayed in her seat, but still didn't get it. I took pity on her. "Mistress Saundra just answered your question Wendy," I hinted. "Think about it. What did she just do to you?" Wendy still looked puzzled but didn't have the courage to confront Saundra with another question. I glanced at Saundra. She shrugged and took another bite of salad. "Mrs Christiansen – Helen – Mom – didn't throw a fit; she 'took it' as you say, for a couple of reasons:" I said gently. "First, like you, she was shocked that Mistress Saundra knew her name. Second, again like you, she was further shocked that Mistress Saundra knew exactly what she was wearing, down to the brand, color, fabric and design of her panties. But those two were only the setup for the third and most important reason." I took a sip of wine. Wendy looked at me expectantly. Cassandra rolled her eyes at Tinkerbelle's apparent obtuseness. Saundra grinned and speared another chunk of crab. "Third, and by far the most important reason," I continued while digging another clam from its clamshell, "mom 'took it' because she totally believed that Mistress Saundra would do exactly what she said she'd do." I glanced at her. She had the glimmerings, but needed to hear more. "Okay Wendy, here it is," I said, looking in her eyes. "Helen Christiansen believed in her soul – if she dared say one more disparaging word – the scariest woman she had ever met, would bend her over the table, rip down her panties and whip her bare butt right here in a public restaurant, in front of God, her family and the world. Helen might not have believed it before. She probably doesn't believe it now. But at that moment, when Mistress Saundra gave her that Royal Bitch Goddess look that she just gave you, Helen believed." I went back to digging for clams, but intended to continue the lesson. Wendy was rapt. Cassandra already aced this exam. She listened while she ate her fish. Saundra scarfed on her salad, but watched for Wendy's reactions while she chewed. "Now here's a question for you," I proposed while peeling a shrimp. "Why did Helen believe so strongly that Mistress Saundra would carry through with her outrageous threat? I mean, come on, who would believe that another person would do such an shocking thing. That person would be arrested for at least Assault; be embarrassed in front of a whole restaurant full of people; probably wouldn't be able carry through with her threat anyway, because other people surely would stop her, yada, yada yada. I mean, let's be real here. Why would Mom be so completely convinced that our lovely Mistress Saundra would follow through with her, to Helen's mind, monstrous promise?" Eager to know the answer, but completely baffled by the question, Wendy just shrugged helplessly. "I don't know!" she cried plaintively. "I feel like I should, but I don't." "Yes you do," Cassandra said quietly as she concentrated on cutting her fish. "You know; that's why you're here today. You just don't know that you know." Wendy looked helplessly around the table. Neither Saundra, nor Cassandra would give her the answer. Frustrated almost to the point of tears, Wendy looked to me plaintively. "Please, Master James. You've got to tell me," she begged. I smiled at her and popped a scallop in my mouth. She waited while I chewed, but patience is not Tinkerbelle's strong suit: she was squirming in her seat. I finally took pity on her. "Helen believed for one reason," I said as I picked up my sandwich. "She believed because Mistress Saundra believed. Mistress Saundra showed her, with one look, that she would follow through, whatever the consequences." Comprehension dawned on Wendy's face. She stared at my face for a moment, not seeing me, then focused and looked at both Saundra and I with new respect. Saundra drove the lesson home. "Both Master James and I share this much – well besides your sweet little body – we share a rare trait: rock solid confidence in ourselves and our purposes. I saw it in him even before we met." She glanced at me. I nodded with a smile. "I'm certain that he saw the same thing in me. That fat twit Helen glimpsed it too, as have you, though you obviously have had a hard time recognizing and defining it. James, as usual, is absolutely correct: Mom believed, because I would do it." I took a sip of wine, then said, "Thank Bob she did believe. We'd've had a riot on our hands if she hadn't. You know that Mistress Saundra would have kept her word, and her sons, once they got their eyes unstuck from that magnificent set of hooters dangling before their eyes – nice distraction by the way Saundra – looked like they were getting ready to protect their mother. The Junior Miss would have either had hysterics, or sat back to enjoy the show, I'm not sure which." I winked at Saundra. "Besides I've seen a whole lot of spectacular bare asses today. I didn't particularly want to see mom's chubby tush, with or without the pink cotton hiphuggers." Cassandra choked on her wine, then all three ladies burst out laughing at the image. We four finished our meal in relative peace, though a three guys at a nearby table seemed to be real interested in our little group. None could quite get up the nerve to introduce themselves, but one made a comment of some sort to Wendy when she passed on the way to the powder room. She just pointed over her shoulder toward me, said something short and continued on her way. The guys looked startled for a second, stared at me, then dipped their heads together and left us strictly alone. They even ignored Wendy on her way back to our table. Time out. A table for five on the other side of the guys overheard Wendy's comment. It quickly became the topic of conversation. The group were all women ages early twenties to early forties; librarians from all over the country in town for a month to attend a workshop. They'd each had had a drink or three. Like the three guys, the women had all noticed us. Truthfully, we were hard to miss. Anyway, one mentioned to another that she had fantasies which included such things. The others admitted they too would like to at least see them. Soon they were daring one another. The alcohol they'd consumed may have had something to do with their ebullience. All five made plans. Two silently decided a tandem would be necessary, communicating their preference with an exchange of glances, without clueing the others in on their scheme. One of the two was way too shy to dare such a thing on her own, though it seemed to be a perfect fit for their long range plans. The ladies drew straws to see who would go first. Time in. When she returned to our table, I asked Wendy to give me the skinny. She grinned as she took her seat and said, "Those guys wanted to get friendly, but I told them that you could touch the end of your nose with your tongue and had a ten inch dick named Mr Snake and unless theirs were bigger and could prove it to me on the spot, not to bother." This time Saundra choked on her wine. She recovered with difficulty: she was laughing too hard. "I'm pissed, Tinkerbelle," she said, still sputtering. "You should have told them about my strapless wonder." "Please don't be Mistress Saundra, I planned to if necessary," Wendy said innocently in return. "That was my ultimate line of defense in case one of them really did have a bigger dick." She got me that time. Damn near sprayed the wine across the table. Instead I sprayed it back into the glass, and joined the others roaring. We came close to causing another scene, we were laughing so hard. I don't think the Three Amigos appreciated our mirth, but c'est la vie. About then, it was my turn to make a pit stop. As I passed, on the way to the head, one of the guys commented sotto voce to his pals that he didn't believe that my dick was that big, and the tongue thing was bullshit too. I had nothing to prove, so I ignored him. I didn't realize that the three ladies at my table had heard too. But they were rather pissed off by the comments. So much so, they began planning an exit scenario designed to slam the poor guys as only a group of women can do. While that was playing out, the woman with the short straw excused herself from the table of five and made for the restrooms right behind me. As I entered the hallway leading to the restrooms, she dropped her purse behind me, muttering a lady-like oath. I turned to find a fortyish woman with glasses looking down on the contents strewn across the floor. We went down together to gather the stuff. She took the opportunity to flash a long, lithe leg to the thigh and a bit of come-on cleavage. Once down on a knee, she introduced herself. She explained that she was in town for a few weeks to attend a workshop. She handed me her card, and asked me to call her if I got the chance. Her cell number was printed on the face of the card. On the back was scripted the name of her hotel and her room number. I gave her my cell number in exchange. Not too obvious, hmm? Time out. Elaine Andrews, 42, Chief Librarian at a small college in Ohio. Her dark brown hair is styled short, in waves about her face. The heavy frames of her glasses accentuate her large, light brown eyes. She's single (divorced five years) with a daughter in college. Elaine is about 5'5", maybe 125 in her 34C bra and lace thong. Time in. I went into the Men's Room, finished my business, performed the necessary ablutions then went out the door, where I literally bumped into another woman with glasses: a blonde with sea green eyes. She apologized somewhat shyly, then mentioned that she was in town for a workshop, had never before been outside Kansas and was looking for someone local to take her to the beach. She blushed when she asked, then looked so nervous that I couldn't help but take pity on her. I took her business card, upon which she'd written her hotel and room number. I promised that I'd call, and gave her my cell number in turn. Time out Paula May Thornton, Librarian from a small town in the middle of the Kansas wheat fields. She's never before been out of Kansas, let alone to the West Coast. The workshop was a huge adventure during which she was determined to swim in the Pacific ocean and get fucked, not necessarily in that order. Technically a virgin – though the handle of her hairbrush has gotten quite a workout over the years – Paula lives with and cares for her elderly mother. She met the other women at the hotel when checking in. Shy and sweet, she's 34, 5'4", about 120, with a set of tits way too big for her body, double D chochos anyway. Her sun-streaked blond hair is thick, ruler straight and cut to the middle of her back. Her eyes are dark blue, and she has a dusting of light freckles across her nose and cheeks to go with her tan. Time in. Three seconds after Paula May went into the powder room floating on air, A third woman came around the corner. Tall, with a purposeful stride, she already had her business card in hand. Without preamble, she handed it to me. She said that she too was in town for the workshop, and planned to spend at least one night away from the group. She said that she'd like to buy me dinner that night, if I was interested. On the back of her card was her hotel and room number. She smiled at my acceptance, then punched my number into her BlackBerry. She started to turn away, then stopped, looked me in the eye, and asked bluntly if the tongue thing they'd heard was bullshit. Instead of answering, I showed her. Her eyes widened for a moment, then she grinned. Before she could turn away, I told her that, since we were being straightforward, she should know that my tongue went only where there was no possibility of tasting hair. Any hair. She looked startled for a moment, then grinned again and asked me if I knew where she could get a touchup on her wax job. It was my turn to grin, then I told her about the Brazilian sisters. She made a note on her PDA then disappeared into the Ladies Room. Time out. Katherine O'Hara, 27, 5'10", 145. She's from a small town around the Finger Lakes in upstate New York. Sharp featured with a mop of curly black hair that fell down past her shoulders, Kate is long and lean with a nice set of bumpers, at least 36C maybe 34D. Her flawless skin is very fair. Her eyes are light green beneath her glasses. She is single, definitely by choice, though she just ended an affair. Apparently he is the football coach and PE teacher at the local high school. He's married, and Kate got tired of sharing his attentions with his job, his wife and their three kids. She came last on that list; it got old quickly. The end was less than wrenching for her, as she was only in it for the dick. From what she said later, the coach was in shape with fair-size wood; that is, with the endurance and equipment required to meet her simple needs. Her biggest complaint was that he wasn't any good at giving head, though he sure liked it when she sucked his dick. Time in. On the way back to the table, as I was passing a half empty table for five, the two ladies still seated waved me over. Hesitantly the one wearing glasses offered a business card. The other had written her name below the first's. They said that they were in town for a month-long workshop and were looking for a local guy who had the time to spend an afternoon seeing the sights, or whatever. Particularly 'whatever'. Since I looked like a nice guy that was obviously comfortable with more than one woman, they thought that they would take a chance on me. I said that I thought we could hook up one night that week, but I'd give them a call to confirm. The older one quickly scribbled the name of their hotel and room number on the back of the card, then told me that they'd be looking forward to my call. I scribbled mine on a napkin, then smiled, and made my way back to the ladies. Time out. Charlene Russell, 32, very short, wavy blonde hair. She's 5'8" about 130, with maybe 36 B-cup tits and fabulous legs. Charly has grey-green eyes, wears glasses and is the Chief Librarian in a small city in Southern Oregon. She's divorced for a few years with no kids. Apparently that's what led to the divorce. He wanted them; she didn't. Now she is willing to help raise one, but has no intention of being the one to give birth. Amelia Burns, 22, straight, dark red hair cut just above her shoulders, and has dark green eyes. She's just graduated from the local college and is now the Assistant Librarian to Kim. They traveled together, and shared a room. Amelia is 5'3", 110 and a lot of that weight is in her chest. She's slender, but features at least D-cup lungs; 32DD, maybe 34D. Apparently, she's thinking about moving in with her boss at 'Charly's' suggestion. To save a little bit on rent, you see. Her dream is to have a baby, but she's not really comfortable with guys. Most scare her for some reason. Time in. The ladies and I finished our meal soon after. The tab was way reasonable, considering the entertainment we'd had while eating. I paid for lunch and gave our waiter a little extra for putting up with us. Just as I handed him the presentation folder with my credit card, my cell phone rang. Mistress Gwendolyn. Apparently Mrs Hart had completed her lesson. I answered and Gwendolyn confirmed that Veronica would be soon ready to leave. We talked for a minute, then clicked off. The sequel to Wendy's encounter with the three guys occurred as we were leaving. As I passed, with Cassandra at my side, one of the guys said again to his pal that he didn't believe that my dick was that big. This time he was loud enough to ensure that I'd heard him. I glanced at him and shook my head sadly. What could I do, but whip out Mr Snake? I wasn't about to do it there, and I certainly wasn't about to invite him to the Men's Room, so I just left it alone. I had intended to just walk away, but the ladies had other ideas. He was looking at me and didn't notice Wendy coming up behind. She stopped behind his chair with her tits pressed to his back, put her hands on his shoulders and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "Yes Dipstick, he does," she breathed in her most sexy voice, "and I just love to sssssss-suck it." Then she licked his earlobe. I think the poor dweeb came in his pants right there. His friends got the treatment too, the poor schlubs. Their jaws dropped when Cassandra stopped suddenly. She dropped my arm, turned her back and lifted the hem of her miniskirt, exposing the cheek of her ass. She twisted to point at the initials seared there. "Yes you nimrods, it is that big. Only a guy with a dick like Mr Snake could permanently autograph this prime ass." About then, Saundra made her appearance, with a bang, as usual. Actually with a 'snap'... ...of her quirt right across Cassandra's bare ass, beneath the brand scar. Cassandra stifled a moan and lifted her skirt higher, exposing the strip of her g-string running down between her round and rock-firm asscheeks. "Quit showing off, you hussy!" Saundra hissed. "Or I'll bend you over their table and really tattoo that prime ass of yours." She glanced at the three guys, her emerald green eyes icy, and said, "Yes you little twerps, he does, or I'd have these two on their knees worshipping this prime pussy..." she pointed to her prominent camel toe with the tip of her quirt, "...instead of his massive dick. Why are you so interested in the size of his dick anyway? Or are you three just strange for big cocks?" Without waiting for an answer, she herded Cassandra and Wendy toward the exit, her asscheeks undulating with her strut. I shrugged my shoulders and followed, still shaking my head at their stupidity. To say that those guys were mortified would be an understatement. The ladies at the table for five had front row seats for that exchange. Their reactions varied, from round-eyed wonder to round-eyed delight at both the scene and the confirmation of their hopes. Kate had already attested to the length of my tongue – and my preference for hairless pussies. Elaine, Paula May, Kate and Charly all raised their glasses for a silent toast. Amelia joined in, though with some little trepidation. As I held the door of the Miata for Cassandra, I thought to myself that it was definitely going to be an interesting couple of weeks. While Mistresses Gwendolyn and Saundra were putting Mrs Hart through her paces, I'd have plenty of distractions to keep me busy. With that happy thought, we motored back to find out how Mrs Hart had fared that fine Sunday afternoon under the strict tutelage of Mistress Gwendolyn's whip. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: If you have a comment good, bad or indifferent, please send an e-mail. Be sure to include your e-mail address. I'd love to hear from you. There are a few people out there who have given wonderful encouragement and advice, but sadly haven't given me a way to make contact either to answer specific questions, or thank them personally. You may or may not know, the return address of those messages sent through the Literotica website have the Literotica e-mail address, not yours. If you would like an answer, give me the avenue to reach you. If you don't like the story, or the direction it is taking, and feel the need to vote, don't just give me a one. Give me feedback too. Like James, I have broad shoulders. I can take it. Notice that I've left all the comments – pro and con – on the website below the chapters for all to see. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 18 This is the twenty-seventh installment of Mrs. Hart's Ache Chapter XVIII Educating Veronica ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way. James Mark Masterson. Just your typical teenager. Smart... sexy... sophisticated... and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do. And to do who he wants to do. Mrs Hart survived her afternoon with Mistress Gwendolyn. One down, three to go. Too bad she also has four sessions with Mistress Saundra to endure... But for now, she can relax. The nightmare weekend is over. Time for a little luncheon then... Oh shit! Here we go again... The lessons are not over. One hopes it all sinks in soon. Just how much abuse can one woman take? Apparently just enough. Some lessons are fun to learn... Happy Reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XVIII Educating Veronica "...Taste yourself ma réticente une; savor the evidence of your passion," she whispered softly to Veronica, her intimately husky voice gentle with understanding. "You cannot hide yourself or your excitement from such as us..." Mrs Hart had not fared well that early Sunday afternoon. Not well at all. Mrs Hart certainly did not appear to be at her best when Cassandra and I stepped through the dungeon door. Time out. Mistress Saundra had decided that Tinkerbelle should accompany her back to her place for the remainder of the afternoon. The scene with the three dweebs had put Saundra in the mood for some fun and games somewhere in the middle of her California King bed. Wendy was at hand, and definitely superfluous back at the dungeon. Whether or not she was in the mood didn't come into the conversation. What Mistress Saundra wants, Mistress Saundra gets. Or else. Time in. To be fair, it was just the third day of her ordeal, so Mrs Hart was very much stuck in the beginning of the learning process. Kinda like the third day of boot camp when you're meeting your DI for the first time, and he (or she) is screaming obscenities in your face. Mistress Gwendolyn was happy to see us, but Veronica was ecstatic. At least, I think she was. It was hard to tell what with her mouth distended by the ballgag while lying spread eagle on the rack. Her tear-shiny grey eyes spoke volumes though. Her thighs, belly and breasts below the rings decorating her engorged nipples were flushed from the effect of the flogger in Gwendolyn's hand. I was betting that her butt and the backs of her thighs were just as flushed. There were no welts visible, but I'm certain that Veronica had felt each strap of that flogger lashing her bare flesh. "Bonjour Maître Jacques," Gwendolyn said with a smile. "As promised, your precious Véronique has provided some exquisite entertainment this afternoon. I have hopes that she has learned a few lessons too. Alas, she has much more to learn. Her deportment is yet far less than perfect, but I have hopes that after a few more lessons, she will come to perform as desired." She looked down at Mrs Hart while gently caressing her bare breast with a gloved hand. "Is that not so, ma chère femme?" Eyes wide and desperate, Veronica nodded vigorously. At that point, we all knew that she would agree to anything, as long as it got her off the rack, out of the dungeon and as far away from Mistress Gwendolyn as she could get. But, to echo Gwendolyn, I had hopes Mrs Hart had learned some humility. We'd see. Mistress Gwendolyn smiled down upon her, then caressed her bare vulva below the jewelry decorating her clit. Gwendolyn glanced up to me with a sly smile. "In confidence, mon ami, I believe your 'baggage' here is also in desperate need for a session with your Monsieur Snake. Alas poor girl, though her chatte – her pussy – is very wet, her clit is yet somewhat sore. Maybe in a few days she can relieve herself." I gave Gwendolyn the same sly smile. "Veronica may need to get fucked, but she is going to wait until she's healed. That means at least four weeks, isn't that right Mrs Hart." Again Veronica nodded vigorously. She wasn't about to argue with anyone about anything, at least until she was released from the rack. "If I find out that she's been fucking anyone before then," I continued, "she'll spend an entire weekend down here under my care, then wear a chastity belt for the rest of the summer. That includes Mr Hart. If he wants some in the next month, come up with an excuse. I would imagine that he's used to that from you anyway." Mrs Hart managed to look both horrified, offended and imploring at the same time. I stepped to the other side of the rack and began gently stroking her bare sex. I slipped a finger through her entry, testing, then out again. A muffled moan hummed from behind the ballgag. She was very juicy. A tremor ran through her body. Her eyes closed; her back arched, offering her pussy for my touch. I traced a line of her girl goo down her belly. Looking down upon her, I said, "If she learns to behave herself, I may allow her the use of a dildo once in a while, but only when she's with me and only if she's very good. But she has to work off a few more punishments before that happens." "That is in the future, mon ami," Gwendolyn agreed. "For now, I think we can release her from my rack. My first session with her is at an end. Delightful though it has been, I have other matters to which I must attend." While speaking, Gwendolyn eased the tension on the ropes to which Veronica's wrists and ankles were cuffed. Veronica groaned faintly as she moved to sit up. Her muscles were stiff from her vain struggles to avoid Mistress Gwendolyn's whip. I unbuckled the ballgag from her head. Mrs Hart sat for a moment, working her jaw and swallowing, then startled Cassandra and me by going to her knees before Gwendolyn. "Thank you Mistress Gwendolyn," she whispered hoarsely, looking down at the floor. "I appreciate the time and effort you have spent giving me my first lesson." "Nonsense, chère," Gwendolyn answered, stroking her hair gently. "It was my pleasure. I look forward to our next session. You will be here next Saturday at noon." Gwendolyn glanced at me. I nodded. "Your Master will bring you. Do not be late. Waiting for my students makes me cross. You do not want to irritate me, do you little baggage." Mrs Hart shuddered. "No Mistress. I promise to be on time." "Bon. Good," Gwendolyn answered. "See that you remember, else your next lesson will be very hard. Now go with Cassandra. She will show you where to bathe. When you are ready to leave, she will bring you to us." With that, she turned away in dismissal. I stepped to her side, and we walked out together. Upstairs, after Gwendolyn had showered, brushed her hair out and changed into an elegant though casual skirt, top and sandals, she and I took seats on the veranda. With a glass of red in hand, Gwendolyn and I relaxed while she gave me the scoop. "Your baggage is a very complex woman," she stated with assurance as she curled in her chair and stared across the river, thinking. "You are correct in that she needs a firm hand, both because she achieves gratification from being forced into a subservient role, and because she treats any sign of affection from her handler as a sign of weakness, which she despises and which she will do her best to exploit." Gwendolyn sipped her wine for a moment, then looked at me and smiled. "On another level, you are in an enviable role. As I said, she needs to be forced; she just hates the fact that you are the one capable of applying that force. The dichotomy is such that it has come to the point that she becomes sexually excited when you enter the room. You are in control and are compelling her to accept the subservient role. Continuously. She abhors that, yet it also excites her tremendously." I nodded. Nothing she'd said was a surprise, but it was nice to have confirmation from a source I trusted implicitly. "That you have complete mastery; that she cannot regain control, ever, in any of her persona when you are present, drives her to distraction. Yet it also makes her, as you say, extremely wet. Her love/hate relationship with you is a wonder to behold. You must take care, lest she become completely dependent upon you for sexual gratification." Gwendolyn said those words carefully. I understood both her point and her concern. Fucking with Veronica was fun in general and making her pay for the insults she'd given gave me way satisfaction, but I had no intention of keeping her as a submissive long term. Way to much baggage – if you'll pardon the pun – for that. I had no desire to spend the next few years helping Veronica get her jollies. At Summer's end, she was going to have to find someone else to take control. I intended to retire gracefully, and start fucking her daughter again. I told Gwendolyn as much, to which she nodded. "In the meantime, Mistress Saundra and I can help, and at the same time 'get some jollies' of our own," Gwendolyn said with satisfaction. "That femme is, as you say, ungrammatical as it may be, 'a lot of fun to fuck with'." We both were laughing when the lady in question arrived. Cassandra had her in tow, with the opaqued sunglasses firmly in place. Outwardly, she appeared to have weathered well her sessions in the dungeon. Except for a touch of stiffness, she seemed fine. The piercing did not affect her movement, though that could have been force of will. Inwardly, she had to be in turmoil, but we'd see. Mrs Hart's day was not near over. Neither was Cassandra's, nor mine for that matter. I had plans for an evening's entertainment involving both Veronica and Cassandra. She and I had discussed such on the ride from the restaurant. In the meantime, I was certain that Mrs Hart needed to eat. She hadn't had anything except a cup of coffee all day. We said our good-byes, with a firm commitment to return the following Saturday, then put her in my car. I gave Gwendolyn a kiss, then slipped a key to the townhouse to Cassandra. I kissed her too through the window of her SUV. She had a few chores to complete before we arrived. We'd meet again there after I fed Veronica. We left Gwendolyn standing at the door with her dogs. I gave her a wave over my shoulder as I motored down the gravel drive. We reached the road and were accelerating away when a choice silver Saab convertible passed us going the other way. The guy driving was dressed casually. I glanced in the mirror just as it turned into the drive we'd exited. Looked like Gwendolyn was gonna get some relief of her own. Cassandra's Land Rover soon disappeared ahead of us. I took a few extra minutes, driving the long way around, then pulled up to the clam bar again. Once parked, I relieved Mrs Hart of the sunglasses. She blinked, surprised that we had stopped so quickly, but looked relieved when she saw the location. I opened her door, then tucked her arm in mine and escorted her into the restaurant. You should have seen the hostess's face when I returned with yet another woman on my arm. We took seats in the bar, coincidentally at that same bistro table. Thank Bob, by that time, all the other players from the afternoon's drama were long gone. The hope occurred in passing that the five women got back to the hotel intact. I had tentative plans involving each of them too. Per usual, the thought of fresh pussy made Mr Snake sit up and sniff. Mrs Hart had remained subdued throughout the ride. Once seated in a public place, her personality resurfaced, but with a hint of restraint. I thought it time to delve a bit deeper, so I began the conversation obliquely. "So Mrs Hart, how does your pussy feel with your new jewelry in place?" I inquired solicitously. Like I said, obliquely. She blushed as, grey eyes wide, she glanced around hurriedly, afraid that someone might have heard. Her eyes narrowed again when she was assured that no one was listening. Her lips parted, I'm certain with a caustic retort in mind, but at the last moment, she reconsidered. The effort it took to bite back the words showed on her face for an instant. "To answer honestly, sir..." that word came out surprisingly natural, "...my –" she hesitated, glanced around again, then finished, " – my 'pussy', is a little bit sore, as Mistress Gwendolyn indicated. I was shocked when Mistress Saundra did it; shocked because it did not hurt at all. There was just a feeling of..." she paused, searching for the right word, "...of intense 'pressure' is the best way to describe the sensation. Even putting the jewelry in did not really hurt. But I'm surprised to discover that my – my breasts; my nipples – hurt a little bit more. The 'jewelry' that I'm wearing down there is quite comfortable. It's the piercings themselves that ache a little bit. Mistress Gwendolyn advised me to take Ibuprofen once a day. She had me take two while you were gone." She shifted on her seat, then continued, blushing again. "The worst pain I have is – is in my bottom," she went on with a rush, almost whispering. In the same voice, she continued, "Mistress Gwendolyn's expertise with that whip is – masterful. She is as adroit with a flogger, as you are with a cane." "Practice makes perfect," I quoted with a grin. "Bob knows, I've had some practice. Mistress Gwendolyn too. One look at Mistress Saundra will tell you that she's also had her share." Mrs Hart looked grim for a moment, hesitated, then blurted in an imperative whisper, "Does your 'practice' include sessions with my daughter?" I'd been waiting for a question like that ever since she discovered my alter ego that morning. "I could answer that many ways," I said with a smile feathering my lips, my voice conversational. "But I'll be nice. The polite answer is: it's really none of your business. I make it a policy never to discuss even the possibility of intimacies with a third party. What relations Missy and I share are between the two of us alone. If you want to know whether or not we've had sex, you'll have to ask her." Jeez to be able to listen in on that conversation! I could see Mrs Hart heating up. Teasing her about this was hitting below the belt. She may be a complete bitch, but she's also Missy's mother. It was only fair to answer her question, but to answer it narrowly. I held up one hand to forestall the explosion. "Before you become completely unglued, I'll tell you this much: I've never used an implement of any kind on your daughter. Nor has anyone else of which I am aware. To my knowledge, she has never met any of the people with whom you have become familiar today. Neither has she visited Gwendolyn's dungeon, with or without me. Believe me, I'd know. Think about it Veronica; has Missy shown any sign of physical abuse?" Mrs Hart subsided though was clearly not completely satisfied, but that had more to do with the distinct possibility that I was fucking her daughter. Clearly, I was not abusing her. Veronica would have to be satisfied with that small comfort. "And just for the record, I like your daughter a lot," I added. "More than most women I know. But she and I have no intention of remaining exclusive to each other. We're both too young and self-assured for that nonsense. Neither of us either needs or wants to 'go steady'. When we're together, we have fun; when we're apart, we have fun. The language doesn't include a word between 'girlfriend' and 'lover', but that's where we are. 'Intimates' maybe, but even that has sexual connotations. The best I can do is to say that we're good friends." Sudden stillness came over me. Much like Mistress Saundra, I too can become the stuff of nightmares for certain people when I so choose. Veronica actually shivered when she saw the change in me. "Also, just so you know, I'd kick the shit out of anyone that got physical without her consent," I said coldly. "As in, at least put the guy in the hospital for a while. I did that once for a young lady I hadn't yet met. It was one on three, and they were the ones that left blood on the ground." I relaxed my presentation, which relaxed Mrs Hart. Though afterwards, the grey of her eyes held the memory of alarm. "Believe me when I say, I'm fully capable of fulfilling that promise," I stated with quiet certitude. Veronica could not help but be convinced of my pledge. "But you should also know by now that your daughter is fully capable of handling most situations. She's not at all averse to fighting dirty if the occasion arises. I know; I've seen her in action. That's not surprising. After all, she's carries your genes I presume. Also, in my humble opinion, Miriam did a damn fine job of raising her." Mrs Hart didn't know whether to be pissed or proud to receive that compliment. But she had to agree in her heart that it was the truth. About then, our waitress – must have been a shift change; blonde; cute face; nice body; short and bouncy; fantastic gazongas – came to the table. Still full from lunch, I just ordered a dozen oysters on the half shell and a Guinness to keep her company. Mrs Hart ordered a Stoly Elit on the rocks and a shrimp salad. The drinks came first. Mrs Hart downed hers quickly, then ordered another. While we awaited the food, we continued our chat. "You know Mrs Hart – Veronica – just between you and me, I have to tell you: you are quite a beautiful, intelligent and talented woman. Between you and Mr Hart, you have more money than Missy's great grandchildren can ever spend. Too bad that you're also a complete bitch on wheels," I stated conversationally. Mrs Hart's grey eyes widened; her mouth gaped at my effrontery. Hang on Veronica, more is coming. "You've got the body of a women ten years your junior," I continued. "You fuck as well as any woman with whom I've had the pleasure. And you gave me hands down, the absolute best blowjob I've ever received. You obviously enjoy sex; no, you rejoice in kinky sex. You have an impeccable sense of style, particularly in both clothing and lingerie. It's just too damn bad that you're also a control freak. Advice is worth what you pay for it; here's some for free: quit trying to run the world. You'll have more fun going along for the ride occasionally." Mrs Hart blushed again at the compliments, knowing that they were sincere, if somewhat crude. But that I was giving her advice did not sit well with her. Several retorts of various levels of nastiness were on her lips, but she managed to hold back. I started to worry a bit about her blood pressure, but she finally managed a relatively neutral reply. The tone was biting, though the words were innocuous. "Thank you for your concern, sir," she said with flashing eyes. "It is not often that I receive such pithy advice from a person as young as yourself. I do appreciate your compliments. You do have a way with words. I promise to give your incisive counsel the attention it deserves." I've never been told to 'Fuck Off' so politely. I had to grin. "You too have a way with words, Veronica," I answered, saluting her with my beer. "Now that we've oh so politely told each other to go to hell, let's talk about other things. "Mistress Saundra wants you available Thursday afternoon," I instructed switching gears. "She will send a car to your office at noon sharp. Be ready. You may take a purse, a bikini and an extra pair of panties, but nothing else." Mrs Hart's face changed with that pronouncement. Dread tinged with excitement filled her eyes, but she held herself erect. She remained silent, but I could see the effort it took. Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 18 "Which reminds me," I continued, "be sure to make an appointment to get your 'pretty' waxed again next Saturday morning. It is to be done before you go to see Mistress Gwendolyn. Since you probably don't own the type of bikini that will appeal to Mistress Saundra, you may as well make the appointment in person. You can take the opportunity to buy several different styles while your there. You can guess the kind of thing she likes to see a woman wear for her. Also, be sure to apologize to and tip the ladies as I've instructed." Again, it was all Mrs Hart could do to keep silent, though her expression spoke volumes. The idea of actually being forced to apologize to someone sent her blood pressure soaring again. The thought of being forced to wear a skimpy bikini for another woman didn't help. I made a mental note to have her get it checked. I wondered in passing what her doctor would have to say about her piercings. Her Gynecologist was in for a surprise too. The thought made me grin inside. Mrs Hart was grinding her teeth and shifting in her seat, partially from the need to say something, but also because her ass was still tender from her session with Mistress Gwendolyn. I decided to give her a bit of good news with the bad. "You'll be happy to know that I've decided to delay your session with my flogger scheduled for tomorrow night for now," I said, letting my grin show. "Apparently the lessons you had earlier taught you some discretion. We'll see if it sticks. The thought of giving your bare pussy a few slaps makes my dick hard, but you've earned a reprieve." I watched her, waiting. She struggled for a moment, then capitulated. "Thank you sir," she said quietly, her tone sincere, if in her heart grudging, "I appreciate your forbearance." About then, the waitress delivered our food. We each ordered another drink to go with the meal. Mrs Hart really needed another, to help choke down that apology if nothing else. Jesus! She is way fun to fuck with. Dangling participle or no, it is the truth. "Besides, I have a few other things to do tomorrow. After all, I can't spend all my time with you teaching manners," I said as I squeezed a wedge of lemon over the oysters. "And after tonight, you'll need a rest." Mrs Harts eyes jerked up from her plate, grey eyes wide with concern. My last sentence was the first indication that her day – her weekend – was not yet complete. "Don't get your panties – by the way, you are wearing panties aren't you – " flushing, she glanced around out of the corners of her eyes to see if anyone had heard, then nodded quickly, " – in a bunch Mrs Hart. I think you'll enjoy at least part of what I have planned for this evening. We'll be staying again at the townhouse. We'll have company." Her fork clattered against her plate. Her eyes widened. A touch of panic glinted. She clutched her glass, then took a deep pull of vodka. I gestured toward her plate. "Calm down and eat. You need sustenance. And quit worrying, only Cassandra will be joining us. She volunteered to show you how to care for your piercings. We don't want any chance of infection in such a delicate area now do we," I stated, rather than asked. Mrs Hart couldn't help but give a sigh of relief. She said, "It's just that I've never been..." She blushed then tried again, "I've never been 'with' another woman. Thank goodness it's Cassandra." She didn't regard Cassandra as a threat of any kind. After all, she'd seen her as a victim rather than a perpetrator. Little did she know. I waited until she'd taken a few bites to hit her with the next one. "By the way Mrs Hart," I said after taking a pull of Guinness, "you seem to have forgotten that you lost the game yesterday." She looked at me in confusion, obviously trying to remember what game we'd played. "You lost your panties for the weekend, remember?" Confusion turned to alarm as the memory came flooding back. I could see that she was wondering what effect that particular omission – rather that commission – would have. "Don't worry about it now," I said soothingly. "Despite what you might think, I'm not a complete asshole. Nor am I ignorant of the health aspects. Cassandra warned me that you'd need to wear panty liners for the next week or so to protect both your pussy from infection and your clothes. Don't be surprised if the piercings seep a little. So you'll need the panty liners, and you can't wear panty liners without panties, can you. I'll wait for you to heal a bit before collecting on that debt. Just remember, you owe me a couple of days sans underwear." Mrs Hart blushed at the thought of walking around in a dress or skirt without panties. Only sluts went without panties, and she was not a slut, despite what the engravings on her clit jewelry might state to the contrary. Was she? The oysters were superb, the Guinness as good as ever and Mrs Hart left little on her plate. She must have been starving. She also polished off two glasses of ice water and three full ounces of premium vodka before we were through eating. Alcohol isn't recommended so soon after piercing, but she deserved – hell, she needed – the relief. It had been a long day for her. It was time for some R&R. And some R&R. The ride to town was almost pleasant. Mrs Hart was happy to be gone from the dungeon, even if she knew she'd be returning within the week. If she hadn't been with me, I think she'd been cheerful. Well, me and the twinges in her butt. Miata seats are perfectly comfortable, but the stripes on her ass were irritating at best. While watching her squirm, I made a mental note to apply more cream when we got back to the townhouse. I parked in a visitor's spot in the garage beneath the residences. Cassandra's Land Rover was in the owner's space. The lady herself called a greeting from the Master bedroom when she heard the door open. Keiko Matsui's piano was soft from the hidden speakers. Mrs Hart went directly to the bar to pour yet another vodka. I put the bag that Saundra had prepared on the bar beside her. I thought, what the hell: if she got tipsy, maybe she'd relax and enjoy herself a little. That was certainly my plan. Cassandra's too. Knowing Cassandra's tastes, I fashioned a pair of tall Sapphire and tonics for us. The refrigerator behind the bar offered fresh limes, so I was able to do it right. Mrs Hart moved around to keep the bar between us. Her caution was amusing. I smiled and shook my head. She didn't notice. While I was making the drinks, Cassandra appeared at the bedroom door tastefully dressed in a crop top, clear blue Lucite mules with four inch heels and a fresh pair of panties, a sheer g-string, white with powder blue ribbon ties stretched high upon her hips. The fabric of the panties was tight to her mons, displaying the hairless lips of her plump vulva. The crop top was loose on her, having been fashioned from a man's crew-neck T-shirt. The bottom had been cut away then washed. The ragged cut curled up under to display the bottom curves of her bare breasts. Her ringed nipples indented the soft white cotton. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, held in place with a multi-colored scrunchy. "Hi sweetie," I called. "You look scrumptious. Give us a kiss." Jesus! Watching her stride across the room on those mules, with her bare breasts swaying beneath that top was something to behold. If I hadn't been horny before, I got there quick just observing. Mr Snake appreciated the view too. He was standing up, sniffing for prime pussy again. Cassandra saw my reaction and grinned, giving her boobies an extra shake as she neared. Damn that's choice! She offered the kiss in exchange for the drink, then smiled just for me. She gave Mr Snake a friendly caress too. He loves that kind of thing. Makes him stand up higher, begging for more. We stood together behind the bar and looked at Mrs Hart. Mrs Hart was standing on the other side of the bar, studiously avoiding our eyes and concentrating on her drink. Her eyes flickered to us, then down again. She looked like she was waiting for the hammer to fall. Rather than a hammer, I gave her a pillow. A soft one. "Relax Mrs Hart," I said with a friendly smile. "The hard part is over. You've endured enough punishments this weekend. It's time to loosen up and play a little. The worst thing that I plan is to spread some lotion on your butt which might sting a little. And Cassandra is here to help you care for your piercings. I thought we'd have a drink, listen to some music and later we can either go out to eat, or order in again. Your choice. I'll even pay for it." She glanced at me suspiciously, but loosened her stance to lean against the bar. The glass was no longer clutched tightly in her hand. I would have told her to take a seat, but I knew her butt was still a bit tender. "Why don't you finish your drink," I said gently. "Then you can take a shower. Afterwards we'll put some lotion on your bottom, and Cassandra can help you care for the piercings." The tension left her face. She took another sip of vodka, then started to say, "If you don't mind, I'd rather take a bath – ", but Cassandra interrupted. "Oh no," she said quickly. "That's a very bad idea. Those piercing wounds are too fresh. Hot bath water isn't sterile. You could get an infection very easily. I brought a bottle of antibacterial soap for you. For the next couple of weeks it would be best if you took showers and used that soap. Stay away from swimming pools and hot tubs too. And let those piercing wounds get plenty of air." Mrs Hart's eyebrows rose, then her face began to cloud. Cassandra interpreted the look and headed off the explosion. "Look. I don't mean that you shouldn't wear underwear," she said waving her hands, signaling 'halt'. "In fact, you should wear both a bra and panties, first to protect the wounds from infection and second, to support your breasts. Your breasts are obviously larger than average. Those nipple rings may ache more if the skin is stretched. I know. It happened to me when I was pierced and I wear a smaller cup size than you." Mrs Hart relaxed. I think she finally realized that Cassandra was really giving good advice. Advice based upon experience. Mrs Hart may be many things, but stupid isn't one of them. She listened, then began asking intelligent questions. While the ladies talked, I played bartender. Before long, they were sitting side by side at the bar actually having a friendly conversation. The topics changed eventually, any Mrs Hart learned more about Cassandra as a person. She shuddered when she heard that Cassandra's hobby was free climbing. I let the two women talk, only adding a comment now and then. Mrs Hart was would shift her seat frequently. Cassandra noticed and eventually suggested that Mrs Hart take her shower, then they could treat the piercing sites and get some lotion on her bottom. It was Mrs Hart's idea that Cassandra go into the bathroom with her, to show her exactly how to care for the wounds. I blinked, but Cassandra took it in stride, leading the way. While the ladies took care of their business, I took care of mine. After a quick shower of my own – five minutes hot to get clean, then two minutes cold to get the blood flowing – I donned my robe and watched the end of a ballgame. The Yanks and Toronto, with Johnson throwing K's like the old days. Rivera and outstanding defense ended it for him with about eight pitches in the ninth. Jeter caught a first pitch rocket. Matsui got a fly ball to the wall in left and the last guy went down lookin' at it. Seven to one, Yankees. Good game. I was at the bar, making another drink when I heard the ladies exit the bathroom. They were actually giggling together about something. A major surprise, but also a very good sign. Soon afterward, they came back together looking for liquid refreshments. Mrs Hart apparently decided to give her piercings the airing that Cassandra had suggested. A smile feathered her lips at my reaction to her selection of apparel. Those vodka rocks seemed to have taken the edge off nicely. Mrs Hart appeared to be ready to party. Both ladies had changed. Cassandra kept her scrunchy, thong and mules, but replaced the crop top with a off the shoulder white mesh top that left her taut belly bare and did little to hide those bodacious boobies of hers. This was not Cassandra's favorite mode of dress. I know she did it just for my viewing pleasure. Well, that and to stay even with Mrs Hart. I say that because Mrs Hart was stunning in a shorty robe of sheer black silk, thigh high black silk stockings and a half-cup balconet bra that left her ringed nipples bare. Oh and clear Lucite mules that matched Cassandra's. She'd left her panties behind. The robe was casually belted at her waist, leaving a gap which displayed the sides of her breasts and her hairless vulva. The silver of her jewelry flashed as she walked toward me. Like Cassandra beside her, the smooth flesh of her heavy breasts quivered with each step. The lady surely did know how to make an entrance. "I see from your expression that I have managed to please you James," she said with an intimate laugh. "Your friend and sometime submissive Cassandra has managed to convince me that I will have more fun this evening if I relax and go with the flow. She and the Stoly anyway." She stepped beside and kissed me on the cheek, giving Mr Snake a gentle pat through the robe as she did so. She too had her auburn mane gathered loosely in a scrunchy at the nape of her neck. I thought, Whoa! What the shit is this all about! Mrs Hart could see the question in my eyes. She answered without the question being asked. "It's been a very long weekend for me. I can't say that I've enjoyed everything that you've put me through. We still have major problems between us. But for tonight, I'd like to call a truce. Besides, Cassandra, among other things, is very astute. She recognized immediately how much this excites me. She also convinced me that I haven't hidden that..." she paused for a moment, searching for just the right word, "...that 'condition' well from either you or the Mistresses Saundra and Gwendolyn." She accepted a fresh drink from Cassandra, mouthing a 'thank you' then continued. "You three are making me do things that I'd never dare on my own. I can't promise you that I won't fight you sometimes, but I'm also intelligent enough to realize that you have the control. You and I both know how foreign that is to me. I hate it, but there's nothing I can do about it right now, and I'm weary of the battle. At least for tonight." Then she grinned, taking ten years off. "But the real reason, in case you haven't guessed..." she whispered intimately kissing my cheek again, "...is that I'm hornier than I've ever been in my life. You have no idea what these 'decorations', as you call them, do to a woman's libido." At that moment it hit me. I understood. Mrs Hart was attempting to change the game. She had failed to intimidate me. As she saw it, the next logical step was to seduce me. "That's one of only two things you've said tonight with which I take issue, Mrs Hart" I said laughing. "I'm intimately familiar with the effect such 'decorations' can have. Ask Cassandra." "I did. She agreed," Mrs Hart said in a throaty murmur, you know; the voice designed by a woman to make a man's dick hard. It worked. "She also promised me the story of the day you branded her bottom." She turned to Cassandra. "I still don't understand how you could do that dear," she said with a shiver. "Even the thought of it gives me goosebumps. See?" She held out her arm. All the fine hairs were standing tall. "I didn't do it," Cassandra answered quietly, her soft voice calm and sure; her eyes unseeing in memory. "James – my Master did it. He tied me down, naked, to a workbench, then gagged me. When I was completely helpless, he fucked me. Hard. Fast. Brutal. Totally uncaring of my needs." She shivered; sudden goosebumps rose from her arms. No question about the condition of her pussy: I knew without the need to check that it was flooded. "I can still feel the rough leather of his gloves on my naked ass holding me open as he fucked me; as he used my body for his pleasure," Cassandra continued, softly, "the sound of his naked skin slapping mine; the feel of his body pounding against mine; that huge cock pumping into my defenseless pussy like a jackhammer; the edge of the bench hard against my hips with each thrust; the feeling of the rough wood beneath my breasts; the ropes around my wrists and ankles holding me open; helpless. I was so turned on." She shivered again, still deep in the memory. "Then, just before I was ready, he came in me. I remember feeling his dick ramming deep inside me; then the wet as he spurted into me. He seemed to fill me with his cum, but he didn't allow me to climax. I was devastated because I hadn't made it with him. He left me hanging, right on the edge. He did it on purpose. He can be so cruel." Mrs Hart was spellbound. She stood with drink sitting on the bar forgotten, watching Cassandra's face. Her breaths were short, almost panting. Her nipples were crinkled dark beneath areolae shrunk to red-brown knots upon her bare breasts. The rings stood out from her breasts, rising as her nipples contracted. Below, the lips of her hairless vulva were flushed full, the inner lips crinkled dark red and glistening, peeking from between. The hood of her clit was exposed, the silver of her new jewelry glinting in the light. She seemed to vibrate with excitement. One hand rose to cup a breast with forefinger brushing the ring hanging there. Still lost in her memory, Cassandra's voice sharpened. "Then he did it. His cum spilled down my leg as he stepped away, pulling his dick from my vagina. God, I felt so open and vulnerable; so used. But I was completely helpless as he whispered in my ear: 'You'll be a slave forevermore.' Before I could think, I felt the brand searing the flesh of my asscheek. The smell of my burning flesh filled the room. He held it there for..." a vast tremor raced through her body, "...for a lifetime. Then as it pulled away, something burst deep inside me. I was defenseless against his power. The orgasm that surged through me was the best I've ever had. That was his gift to me, for taking everything else. I don't remember anything after that; just the rush, the power of that orgasm savaging me." Cassandra's eyes cleared again. Another shiver ran through her body. She smiled at me. "He tells me that I passed out for a while," she said, savoring the experience. "While I was gone, he released me from the ropes and treated the burn. God, it hurt! It hurt for two weeks. I couldn't sit down. Not for long anyway. He wouldn't let me wear pants, only dresses and skirts, but he was there for me, whenever I needed him. He took care of me, and dressed the burn every day." She laughed. "You should have seen me, stretched out wherever, with my skirt flipped up, my panties pulled down to my thighs and my butt hanging out while he rinsed the burn and replaced the dressing. Usually I was bent over that damn workbench. But the good part was that he'd usually fuck me first, before he changed the dressing. And he made sure I got mine every time. He's very good at that. When he wants to be." Arms folded beneath her breasts and pressed to the rail, she leaned over the bar, offering her lips for a smooch. I obliged. "May I see it again?" Mrs Hart asked timidly. "May I see your..." she paused, blushing as we glanced at her, "...your s-scar; your brand?" "Sure," Cassandra answered with a smile feathering her lips. "Come on, I'll show you. You can get a close look," she said as she turned and walked toward the bedroom door. "But it's not my brand. It's his. It always will be, even when he's gone." Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 18 Puzzled Mrs Hart looked from Cassandra's retreating form to me. "What does she mean, 'when your gone'?" "Cassandra knows in her heart that we won't be together forever," I answered. "She knows that I'll leave one day; that I'll drop her without looking back. I've told her so, many times. Knowing that scares the shit out of her. It also makes her very wet. That's how she's wired. I understand that. She knows that I understand. A part of her needs me, needs what I have, like she needs to breath. She also knows that I don't need her at all. That really scares the shit out of her. That also keeps her halfway to orgasm whenever she's around me. It's a vicious circle for her, but it doesn't affect me in the least. She lives for the adrenaline rush it provides. It's a game she can't win, but never tires of playing. She's right: I can be very cruel." I thought for a moment that Mrs Hart was going to orgasm right there, standing behind the bar. If she had been hot listening to Cassandra's story, she was on fire after listening to mine. She needed what I had to offer too. Her freshly pierced nipples had to be tender, but that didn't stop her from squeezing one and fingering the ring as she listened to me. Her other hand fluttered against her bare thigh, then centered upon her bare mons with soft fingers teasing the curved barbell embedded beneath her clit. Insistent thrills raced through her belly with each caress. "You liked hearing the story didn't you Mrs Hart," I said, my voice purposely cold. "That kind of thing turns you on too. Well here's another bit of news for you. Maybe it will help." My face changed; my eyes went cold; dead. I cupped her chin, lifted her face and forced her eyes to meet mine. "There is no such thing as a 'truce'. That's the other thing you said tonight with which I take issue. I don't make deals with my submissives. Ever. I don't give a shit what you're thinking or feeling. My needs always come first; particularly where you're concerned. For your own sake, you'd be better understanding that sooner rather than later, or the learning will be long, painful and infinitely humiliating. Either way, it makes not a whit of difference to me." Mrs Hart's fingers were pressed to her clit. One slipped through to her entry, scooping nectar. Her near-naked body quivered tautly. Seemingly mesmerized, she couldn't look away from my gaze. "You're body is mine to do with as I please, until I'm through with you," I continued without emotion. "When I get tired of you, I'll leave you behind without a thought. Until then, I'll take you and use you in any way that satisfies me. Now get your ass into the bedroom. You wanted to see Cassandra's brand? Fine. While you're down there looking, get her ready for me. Make sure she's juicy. Use your tongue. I intend to fuck someone tonight and she's available. But if she's not ready for me within minutes, I'll fuck that fine ass of yours instead." With a sharp cry, Mrs Hart's back arched; her eyelids fluttered. Her muscles locked as an orgasm claimed her body. A hopeless wail sang from her lips, taking her breath. Her nostrils flared as she drew another, then narrowed as a new wail echoed through the room. She held herself rigid and quivering for a timeless moment... ...then finally eased as her muscles unlocked. She gasped, lips slack, sucking air into her empty lungs. My cupped hand beneath her chin kept her upright. Her eyes opened, begging me for a kiss; a smile; any sign of affection, but mine remained emotionless beating down on hers; forcing her to my will. I gestured toward the bedroom. "Apparently my bitch really is horny. Well you got yours for the moment. Be thankful for that. Now go prepare mine," I said coldly, then released her chin. She swayed, then caught herself with a hand on the bar. When I called her 'my bitch' she was near climax again. She mewed helplessly as a unbidden thrill raced through her body. Her grey eyes flashed with need and terror, then she turned and scurried into the bedroom. I finished my drink, watching her asscheeks quiver as she disappeared through the doorway. Placing my glass on the bar, I followed. One thing of which I was certain: Mrs Hart would find a way to get some more before the night was over. Mrs Hart – my bitch – was definitely horny. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index of Terms balconet (bra) – essentially a demi-bra, or shelf-bra; the cups of the bra are relatively small and support a woman's breasts from below; the straps are set wide, attaching to the sides of the cups rather than the tops of the cups. ball-gag – a rubber or plastic ball large enough to fit a person's mouth, with straps and buckles to secure the harness to that person's head. boot camp – Recruit Training for enlisted personnel joining the military services. DI – Drill Instructor; the person (male or female) primarily responsible for a company of recruits during recruit training (boot camp). flogger – a short handled whip with many narrow strips of leather, suede, horse hair or rubber. girl goo – natural vaginal lubricant. Guinness – A dark beer (Stout) brewed in Ireland. pretty – a woman's vulva R&R – rest and relaxation; revenge and retribution. Sapphire – a brand of premium gin Stoly Elit – Stolichnaya Elit Vodka. Thank Bob – see the collected works of Douglas Adams, i.e. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. wax – a procedure for removing hair; a sticky substance is applied to the area of skin to be denuded, then removed, taking the unwanted hair; see 'Honeymoon wax'; see 'Blue wax'. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Index II – Translations French to English: bon – good Bonjour – Good day (greeting) chatte – 'she-cat'; euphemism for 'pussy', meaning vulva chère – (female) dear femme – woman ma chère – my (female) dear ma chère femme – my dear woman ma chère fille – my dear girl ma réticente une – my (female) reluctant one Maître Jacques – Master James mon cher ami – my dear (male) friend mon ami – my (male) friend