1 comments/ 9022 views/ 0 favorites If She was Honest By: RjThoughts I walked into my office, my morning latte in hand, half consumed from the walk from the café. My assistant had arrived earlier, preparing me for the day. Jayashree had three Manila folders in the middle of my desk, placed where I couldn't miss them. I put down my drink and removed my overcoat, hanging the leather covering on the old wooden rack in the corner. "Good morning, Sir," my lovely, exotic aide meekly said as I passed her naked bottom. She was leaning on the antique oak desk, on her forearms. The hem of her skirt was over her hips. She was without panties: Something I had demanded and something she lovingly accepted. I walked to my closet, causing her to squirm with anticipation. "Did my Princess enjoy her evening?" I asked. I had my back to her, but I knew her hips were grinding against an unseen hand. I noticed the way she was leaning gave me a perfect view of her dark brown labia. I smiled knowing that I could touch them, kiss them, and caress them whenever I wanted. I saw she had on the gift I gave to her for becoming my Princess: An amethyst clit ring. She absolutely adored it. "Yes, Your Princess did," she breathlessly whispered. I smiled; from both anticipating the action to come and that, she had appreciated her night. I grabbed her favorite, a beige flogger with five tails made softened leather. I closed the door, making a loud sound doing so. "I'm glad you did, Princess." I moved to her ass, the color of caramel, and tenderly caressed it with my left hand. "You make me happy," I said. I raised the flogger before she could thank me. The sound of rushing air came too quickly for her to react before leather smacked her bottom. She didn't move, didn't make a sound. Her body tensed some, but that was expected. I raised the toy again and held it high. "Princess appreciates Sir knows how to treat her," she said before I hit her bottom for a second time, on the opposite cheek from the initial hit. She wiggled her ass slightly, but caught it quickly, before I could admonish her for not staying still. "Thank you, Sir," she whispered. Three, four more blows from my whip caused her to state similar words. Two more on each cheek and the morning's flogging ended. "Can Princess cover herself?" Jayashree asked. She knew I wanted to caress her ass more, loving so, but she had permission to ask. "No, My Princess," I sternly answered. I closed the closet and turned to her. I could only shake my head at what a lucky man I truly was, for finding such a willing and loving submissive, open to most of what I liked, what I found sexual and sensual. I placed my hand above her skin and felt heat rise. I left no scarring marks, but redness had begun to show. She moaned when I touched her left cheek. She didn't look back, just held her head down while I stroked her lovely, hot skin, admiring my work. She fell further onto the desk, collapsing from the pleasure the pain offers to her. I shook my head and smiled, moved to my chair to begin the workday. I took a sip of my latte, turned on my laptop, and looked at my pet. She was smiling broadly, her dark brown eyes closed. She looked content, like a sleeping kitten. I hated, always didn't like, waking her from her pleasure-educed naps, but I had an agency to run, and she was my most important contributor to its running. I stood, leaned forward, and carefully moved her hair from her forehead. I gently kissed her. "Time to get back to work," I whispered. Her eyes fluttered like butterfly wings. Jayashree smiled when her eyes met mine. "I'm sorry, Sir, I must have dozed off." She slinked up off the desktop and stretched. She pushed down the hem of her skirt and smoothed it with both hands. She glanced at the clock and noticed that the other employees would be coming soon. "If there's nothing you need of Your Princess," she said, more of a question than statement. I shook my head and opened a folder. She quietly left the office, closing the door, notifying me that she was ready to return to being my executive administrative assistant. The folders were paperwork that needed my signature. Being a private investigator isn't as glamorous as novels, television, and movies portray. Most times, it is long hours of sitting in a car, waiting for a brief moment so you can snap pictures, or digging through garbage, or spending hours in front of a computer researching. This was one of those times. With that work done, I clicked on the word processor icon and found where I left off on a case report: Another not-so-dazzling part of my world. "Remy," Jayashree said as she opened the office door and knocked. "There's someone here to see you." She slowly closed the door behind her. "He doesn't have an appointment, but you're schedule is clear for the day." She smiled mischievously. "Did he tell you what he wants?" I reached into my top drawer and pulled out a steno pad and pen. I was anticipating that we were going to have a new client. "He believes his wife is cheating on him." "What's your impression of him?" She has a good gift of reading people's emotions, can tell instantly if they're anger or sorrow is true. It's greatly helped me in the past and will do so in the future. She nodded. "He honestly is hurt." "Okay, send him in." She turned and opened the door. "You can come in, Mr. Allerton. He'll see you." In walked a beaten man, emotionally beaten down. He was gaunt and pale. His shoulders drooped. There was no spring to his step. I shook his hand, introduced myself and motioned for him to take a seat on the couch. Jayashree stepped out of the office for a moment. "Thank you for meeting with me," he began. My assistant returned with a bottle of water and a small tumbler. She offered them to Allerton, but he shook his head. She placed them on my desk, just in case he changed his mind. "What can I do for you?" I grabbed a chair and slid it in front of him. For the next three hours, Kurt Allerton explained his feelings and suspicions about his wife, Sylvia. Though they've never failed to be passionate over their nine years of marriage, it's only been over the last year that she's been acting questionably. He told us that it started when she spent a week in Buffalo, at her job's home office. Normally when they were apart, they would spend an hour or two on the phone, talking about their day. However, when she arrived in her hotel, she called but talked for only 15 minutes, begging off to go to bed. Allerton thought nothing of it, since him, too, had traveled by air and felt tired once he arrived. The next day, her call was late. She sounded as if she had been drinking. He told us that he could hear others in her room, but when he questioned Sylvia, she answered it was the television. This happened again the next day, and the day after. At this point, Mr. Allerton said this was when he thought she was having an affair. The voices he heard through the phone, though not male, were hushed. I asked if he confronted his wife when she arrived home. He answered that he did, but she yelled and told him that he was out of his mind. Allerton asserted that this was just the beginning of her strange behavior. She would insist on going out after work twice weekly, to spend time with the girls. He informed us that she never wanted to this, that there were no "girls" before the trip. I asked for more occasions of odd or changed behavior. He gave me several, including one last week when she rushed out of the house after receiving a phone call at midnight, without giving any reason or explanation when she returned three hours later. "Sure sounds like she's cheating," Jayashree said. She was behind my desk, on my laptop, busily typing her notes of me: I can't read her writing well. Without looking up, she asked, "What are the plans for us?" I thought for a moment, remembered we've done this kind of investigation before, and answered, "I'll follow her, get her routine down, and then maybe have one or two of the associates watch her at night." "Sounds like the plan," she added, her fingers still working. She stopped for a moment and looked at me. She must have noticed the time when she asked, "Who's the lunch date today?" "I'm meeting Elise at home," I answered with an evil grin. "Lucky girl," Jayashree wistfully added. I met Elise in college; I was a sophomore, she was a freshman. There wasn't an immediate attraction, well, at least on her side. She told me, within five minutes of meeting me outside our Principals of Accounting class that I was "an arrogant, selfish, stuck-up dick." It wasn't two weeks later when she was confessing to me naked in my apartment's living room, in the submissive position her wanting me to be her Dominant. We've been together ever since. During the courses of investigations, I find that being with Elise helps, clears my mind of all outside influences. I can't explain the reasons for it; all I know is that it works. Jayashree and the others in the office know this and never question me over it. Jayashree has, at times, done the same thing, spent time with a naked Elise when she's suffered from blocks, whether in the course of investigations or with life in general. I made a call from my car while in the parking garage, instructing her I would be picking up lunch from the deli on my way home and how I expected her to be once I arrived. "Good afternoon, Sir," Elise said in welcome at the door. As instructed, she was naked. She stood five feet, four inches. On that frame were large breasts, D-cups, courtesy of genetics and two children. She's spent the last several years doing yoga and running 5K events. She had curves, something she was proud of, something I loved. In addition, her eyes were dark and sensual, the first thing people see when first meeting her. I handed her the deli bags. "Get them on plates," I commanded. She lowered her head and walked to the dining room. She anticipated what I wanted: A plate and bottle of diet Dr. Pepper were on the table, a plate and bottle of iced tea where on the floor next to my chair. "You can sit with me," I informed her as I put my jacket on a hook. "Thank you, Sir." "We've just been hired to gather information on a cheating wife," I said entering the dining room. Elise had stepped out and to the linen closet to get a towel. "When's the last time you've had one of those cases?" she called out. "Seriously, I can't remember." I grabbed the bag of chips she had placed on the table and opened it. I poured some onto my plate. "I can't either," she added on her return. She put the towel on her chair and sat. She looked to me for permission before sitting. I nodded. "Roasted turkey with lettuce, tomato, little mayo, and no cheese," I whispered as she began to unwrap her meal. "And no pickle," I quickly added as Elise looked in her bag. She smiled when she found the chocolate chip cookie, a reward for her being her. "What are the particulars?" she asked before taking an initial bite of lunch. "I think there are so many options available for you to use," Elise said, making her way to the kitchen. We finished lunch, and she was cleaning up. I smiled as I watched her naked ass wiggle away from me. "I could have Jayashree and Christine do some initial research," I called to her. "That's nothing new," she cajoled. She returned and looked at me with her dark, round eyes. I had something nasty to say, but I forgot once I looked into them. "You could call a meeting and assign other operatives to tail this woman." She returned with a wet dishcloth to wipe the table. I watched as her breasts jiggled with the movement. "You're such a pig," she mumbled. Elise finished and shook her head. "But you're my pig," she added. She turned and walked away from me. "Sir," Elise said on her return from the kitchen. She dropped to her knees and bowed her head. "What does Sir have in store for His most precious of submissives," she stated. "What indeed?" Since I was the boss, I could have taken the rest of the day and played with Precious. I loved playing with her, having her serve me. Precious had very little limits, but they were hard ones. No blood, no gun or knife play, no scat were her hard limits. She had others, but those were I never crossed or brought up. "Precious, please retrieve your favorite anal plug, the bottle of lube, and your choice of paddle. I haven't paid your ass much attention lately. It must feel neglected." She looked up and didn't smile. "Yes Sir, it has." She stood quickly, backed out of the dining room, and walked quickly to the den. I heard her open the closet. I took this time to walk to the stairs and to the bedroom. "Sir," I heard her begin. "May Precious bring a paddle and a flogger?" I smiled, knowing what she wanted me to do. "Yes Precious. Sir will use both on your large ass this afternoon." I heard her giggle and exit the room. I entered the bedroom, Precious close behind. She gently placed the lubricant on the nightstand. One the bed, she put a black leather flogger, its five tails made of hard leather. Precious placed an ordinary wooden paddle, one we received for our twentieth wedding anniversary from her best friend, next to it. Finally, she placed a stainless steel anal plug in the middle. She climbed onto the bed, faced away from me on all fours, and awaited further instruction. "Use your Precious as you wish." She wasn't tense. She was relaxed, almost giddy with the anticipation. I didn't say a word, just removed my shoes and shirt, leaving them on the floor. I gently tapped then rubbed her bottom. I reached for the flogger but left it on the bed. I grabbed the bottle, poured some lubricant into my hand, and walked to Precious. "This might be cold," I joked. I ran my hand over her hole twice up, once down, before pushing having my index finger enter. I heard her moan softly. She pushed against my hand. I slipped a second finger in, moving them around. I retracted, causing her to whimper. I used some remaining lube on the toy's head, polishing the metal object, making it slippery. I didn't warn Precious. Slowly, steadily, I put plug inside of her. Her anus stretched to accept it. She relaxed her body, her sphincter especially. It slipped inside. She inhaled deeply. If this happened 30 years I might have panicked, thought she was hurt. I know now better, Precious enjoyed the feeling. I removed my t-shirt and cleaned off my hand with it before taking the flogger in my hand. I loved this instrument. It has given us many hours of pleasure. It has given her multiple orgasms. The handle was eight inches in length. Made of maple and wrapped with tightly drawn leather thongs, it had been a gift to me by Precious for our tenth wedding anniversary. She had it specially made by a leather smith who specialized in fetish objects. The five tails were made of buckskin, dyed black. They were ten inches in length, each one hard, but not hard enough to cut through skin. I flicked my wrist, the fingers cutting the air. Precious squirmed as the leather cracked the sound barrier. My first touch of her ass was soft, running the tails down her ass. The second was similar, this time on her opposite check. She wiggled as if she was tickled. I raised the flogger high. It came crashing down, hard. Precious moaned softly when leather hit flesh. I quickly raised it again, repeated the action on the other cheek with a similar reaction. "Does Precious love the feel?" I asked. She nodded silently. I noticed that she was grabbing the comforter, digging her hands deep within the fabric. I smiled evilly as I raised the toy up. I came down harder on her ass. She jumped slightly, not enough to illicit my ire. I continued flogging Precious, counting out 10 hits per cheek. She did not cry out, she did not complain. She wrapped her hands into the quilt and enjoyed. "That's 20 total," I said. "Thank you, Sir," she breathlessly said. She collapsed on to the bed, exhausted from pleasure. I let her catch her breath before taking the paddle to her round bottom. I took the paddle in my hand. It was the shape and size of those used in table tennis, but with a difference. While the sport's face is made of wood and covered in either rubber or a sandpaper-like material, this was made of rubber; its cover was black leather. I smiled as I took a few swings, to get the feel of it. Precious brought it out when she had something to confess. "What is on your mind?" I asked. I hit her right cheek with a forehand. "Nothing bad," she answered. She pushed herself up better on her hands and knees. She readied herself for more. "I asked this, only because you brought the paddle." I used a backhand on her left cheek. I heard it hit flesh: It must have stung. Precious made no sign that the paddle caused her any more pain than she could tolerate. "I did something yesterday," she softly said. She pushed her ass towards me, expecting another smack. I hit her with a sharp thrust. She moaned. "What did you do, Precious?" I hit her opposite cheek with the same force. She moaned, again. She hesitated for a moment, an action that caused me to slap her again. "Sir, I met with Kathy yesterday." She anticipated a stronger hit. Kathy was Katherine Braun, her sister. For years, I've heard Precious complain about the woman, how prudish she was, and how she would never understand our lifestyle. I also heard how her brother mistreated the older woman, how she would be better off leaving him. I hit her hard. "What did you two discuss?" Her answer came sudden, her words spoken quickly. "Sir, I told her that she needs to lighten up about our lifestyle." I stopped mid swing and thought for a moment. "How did she respond?" I stepped forward and removed her anal toy. She groaned disappointedly. "She needs to talk to you, Sir." The sound of the paddle hitting her fleshly bottom echoed off the bedroom walls. She exhaled quickly. "Why?" I smacked her ass as I questioned. "She wants to apologize to you, Sir." "Why does she want to do that?" I quickly hit each cheek. "She lied to you when she called our lifestyle disgusting." I spread her legs wide. I hit her wet pussy suddenly. She squealed slightly as she inhaled. "Does she not find it so terrible now?" I hit her cunt again. Her hips gyrated for a moment, before she realized she could not bring herself to orgasm. I had not given her permission. "No, no Sir. She wants to join us. She's leaving my brother." I smacked her ass hard with the paddle. I wanted to know more, but I needed tending. I would remember where we left off. I was hard. My cock wanted out of my pants. I tossed the paddle onto the floor. I grabbed Precious' hair and pulled her to my crotch. "Remove my cock," I commanded. "Yes Sir," she demurred. With her hands, she undid my buckle. Precious unbutton the pants followed by unzipping. She pulled down the pants. I stepped out of them when they hit the floor. Precious pulled my boxer briefs down quickly, my hard on popping out. She pushed them down, and I stepped out of them. "Does Sir want his Precious to suck him?" She looked up at me with her deep, dark, sexy eyes. I shook my head. "Get on your back and spread for Sir." She didn't look disappointed. She moved to the center of the bed and put her head on the pillows. She spread her legs and held them wide with her hands. "I am ready for you, Sir." I saw a smile come to her face. I joined her on the bed and crawled between her legs. I found her pussy, found it wet and ready. I stopped for a moment and looked at her. "Precious you may cum." I returned to licking her pussy, sucking on her lips. She put her hands on my head, wrapped her fingers in my hair. I forced my tongue deeper inside. She met my action by forcing her hips forward. She rubbed her clit against my face. If She was Honest "Oh Sir," she moaned. "Oh Sir, I'm cumming. You're so good to me." I felt her legs begin to quiver, felt her juices flow more. Precious ground her hips into my face, lowly moaned that sounded like an animal's growl. Her legs stiffened, her breaths shortened. "Oh God, oh God Sir," she whispered out and releasing my hair. Precious came in a chaos of swearing, calling for God, and thanking me. I let her be still for a moment. I looked up at her. With closed eyes, she was smiling contently. I had been too easy to her. It was time for my satisfaction. I backed off the bed. I walked to the head of the bed and grabbed her head. "Suck me," I commanded. She complied silently. Precious took my cock in her hand before placing it into her mouth. She lovingly, tenderly licked the head. She slid her tongue down the shaft before running back up. She looked into my eyes and winked. Precious put my cock in her mouth, the tip first, and started to suck it in. She has an experienced mouth, years of satisfying me orally. She took half the length down her throat in one swallow. She backed it out before taking the full length. Once, twice, three times she followed this action. Precious wanted me to fuck her throat. I grabbed her hair. "Get on your back," I demanded. She gave my cock head one last kiss before slipping into the middle of the bed. Instinctively, she spread her legs wide, holding them open. "I'm ready Sir," she cooed. I joined her, my cock hard, hot and ready. I slid easily inside of her wet pussy, bottoming out. "Oh," she breathed out. I withdrew before pushing forward again. She closed her eyes and smiled. Once, twice I pumped slowly, softly. She didn't meet my action. I thrust hard and she smiled. Hard and roughly, I fucked her. She pushed her hips against my pelvis. Twice more I fucked her hard. Twice more she met me. The room began to fill with the aroma of sex. Her sweat and mine mixed. I could smell lust and passion marry. "Who does Precious serve?" I asked. "Only you Sir," she answered. "Sir's cock is getting hot." I fucked her faster, driving my cock hard and deep. She stopped thrusting her hips, accepting my hardness more. She pulled her legs up, moved her ass forward. She knew what was coming. I knew my orgasm was soon. I shifted up and placed my hands on her hips. I quickened the pace and warned her. "I'm cumming Precious." "I want it Sir." She told me to fill her with my love, give her all I had. Twice more I pumped before my orgasm exploded. I didn't fall on top of her. She drained all my juice from me, her hips rapidly gyrating. She wanted another orgasm. As I've always done, allowed her to do so. I held myself up, hovering over her, while she brought herself to orgasm. "Fuck, fuck Sir." Precious let her legs loose. She stopped grinding. Her legs began to quiver. "Sir, oh Sir," she breathed out. The muscles in her body began to tense. Her breathing began to shorten, coming in rapid burst. "Oh Sir," she screamed. Her legs went straight out, the muscles tightened. She flung her head back. Her arms went straight like her legs. "Oh God Sir," she whispered breathlessly. She collapsed on the bed. She was asleep. I shook my head and dismounted the bed. I walked to the bathroom and grabbed a towel and a washcloth from the linen closet. I turned on the water in the shower. "Thank you for letting me rest. I need it." Elise sat on the edge of the bed as I redressed for work. I grabbed a new t-shirt and dress shirt. "I know you did," I said. I finished dressing, my tie being the last item. I turned to her and asked if I looked presentable. She smiled. "All these years with me and you still need me to make sure you're dressed right." She stood and fixed the knot, straightened it. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. "We'll talk about Katherine when I get home," I told her as I walked out of the bedroom. I returned to the office, my belly full, my batteries recharged. "What did your research find?" I asked Jayashree when I walked in. She was back at her desk, feverously working on her laptop. "Sylvia Allerton's not an innocent housewife," she answered. She gave me a devilish smile, looking at the clock on the wall. I took a two-hour lunch. "I suspect there'll be a short story coming from this afternoon's play," she whispered, not believing I could hear her. "How not-so-innocent is she?" I asked, looking over the top of my glasses, showing that I heard her. She demurred, knowing that she shouldn't have commented. "Well, for starters, she's older than Mr. Allerton. She's even older than he thinks." I moved to get a better view and she whirled the mouse and pulled up a newspaper's site. She used a well-manicured fingernail to underscore where for me to look. "Interesting," I mumbled. "I know. Email me that site address." "Sure thing, boss," my best assistant said, clicking away. "Kurt will find this most interesting." I left the front area and walked to my office. "Remy, I have something else. I'll send that link to you as well." "Thanks," I said, closing the door behind me. She was thorough, if nothing. She, also, enjoyed her job, became excited when tasked to research a client or, like in this case, a client's spouse. My laptop turned on and the email up, I found the two links she sent. To say I was shocked is an understatement. The first link sent me to a newspaper in Massachusetts, to the daily from June 14, 1974. The front page showed a grainy picture of two young women escorted by local law enforcement. The caption under named the two and gave their ages. Sylvia Nestor, 16, was one. Sylvia Nestor was the maiden name of our client's wife. Being sixteen, she would have been born in 1958 or 1957, if her birthday hadn't arrived. "That would make her ten years older than what Kurt told us," I mumbled to no one. I printed off the picture and caption for our client's records. I clicked on the second link and was more surprised. It was a society page from 1976, showing a beautiful 18-year-old in the arms of a much more mature man, some 25 years her senior according to the short article announcing their engagement. I looked through my notes for any mention from Kurt of previous Sylvia engagements or marriages: None existed. I printed off this article as well. This was becoming interesting. I informed the team of what we were going to do, assigned operative to tasks, and gathered my notes to talk with Kurt. There was information that he needed to know, and it couldn't wait. I called him and set up a meeting at my favorite café for the morning. "Why not do it now?" Jayashree asked when I ended the call. "There's probably going to be more." I changed my mind, not taking the initial surveillance of Sylvia. I assigned that task to my most senior operative, Christine Hayes. Christine had been in the profession since the age 21, when she joined another agency in Florida right out of Florida State University. Hired more for her looks - her freckles, red hair porcelain skin made her look younger than 18 -- than for her education -- criminal justice -- Christine even now looked much younger than her 43 years. She had patience, a great deal of it, making her the one person I could count on to sit and observe for hours. "Christine will get something tonight, I have a feeling," I mention to my assistant as I walked back to my private office. Jayashree nodded. "If something's there to be found, she's the one to get it." A devilish grin came to her face before she returned to her desk and back to researching. "What does this all mean?" my client asked. I called and told him to meet me at the café before he headed to work. I had important information for him, and it couldn't wait until lunch. "For starters, it means that's Sylvia's older than she's told you, by ten years." "I don't mind that, most women will lie about their age." He tried to make light of the situation, but failed. His long exhale gave away his true emotion. "I have more evidence." I clicked on my tablet's photo app, pulled up a few, tame pictures taken the previous night, and showed Allerton. He was speechless for a long moment. "I know this house. I've been there quite a few times." He looked distressed, running a hand through his hair. "Why would she go there?" I thought for a moment. I had an answer for him, an answer he'd not want to hear. I debated with myself last night when Christine sent her report and initial photographs. The pictures showed Mrs. Allerton arriving at 8 PM at the home, her body in a full-leather trench coat and wearing six-inch heels. My client was starting at a picture of his wife wearing the leather, standing on the front porch, waiting for someone to answer the door. He just stared blankly, trying to make some sense of what he was seeing. "Whose home is it?" I knew the answer through some Jayashree research, but I was trying to get him to come out of his stare. "A former boss, Rebekah Holman," he answered softly, shaking his head. "Why would she go there?" I had an answer to that, had photographic evidence, but in his state, it would not have been good to say. "My operative didn't get inside, so I can't tell you," I lied. I knew what she was doing in there: Christine gained entry through an opened backdoor and took pictures of Sylvia, along with Ms. Holman and two other women. I decided not to show or tell him what else my operative gathered. He looked up at me, the edges of his eyes turning red. His complexion was pale. He looked like he was going to throw up. He appeared like a man whose worst fears had come true. "I wish I had better news," I whispered across the small table. "You hired me to collect information on your wife." "I know." He exhaled deeply, defeated. "I had wished for better results, but when you found this stuff so quickly, I knew it wasn't going to be good." "Do you want us to continue following her?" I took back my tablet and paper evidence. "Yes," he answered quickly. He looked at me with eyes no longer defeated, but with a purpose. "Find out as much about this bitch you can." "He wants us to find more evidence," I told an interested Jayashree. I found her in front of two laptops, both on separate search engines. She was still looking for as much public information on Sylvia as possible. "Christine found some information on the other two women in the pictures from last night." She clicked on the word processing icon and pulled up a report. "Want me to send it to you?" she asked, though she knew the answer. I nodded. "Christine downloaded more pictures," she added. They're quite a bit more salacious than what she sent last night." An evil grin came to her face. I knew this meant Sylvia was in more trouble. I asked if they were something that I'd look forward to seeing. Jayashree nodded. "I liked them." I thanked her and walked into my private office. I turned on the laptop and began to read the report. "Interesting," I mumbled. Christine's report was more thorough than I had anticipated for having just a few hours to research. The host's name was Beatrice Stevens, the 54-year-old president at Sylvia's job. She's divorced, has been for 20 years. I didn't see her in any pictures, but I'm sure she'd appear in the newest ones. Christine's research found that she had hired Sylvia ten years ago, hired her from a prestigious law firm, gave her a better benefits package and doubled her salary. She wondered what qualifications Sylvia had that warranted such a deal. My operative identified the mature brown-haired woman in the pictures was Beatrice Magee, a 50-year-old coworker who, too, was hired ten years earlier. Ms. Magee had worked at a technology company, one that hired programmers for the state and private companies. Christine again wondered over her hiring. The youngest, the blonde-haired woman, was Margret Simmons. Christine found that the 23-year-old had no immediate connection to any of the other women last night, but noted that she'd spend more time researching this woman later. I sat back for a second to digest what I found. Four women spent time the previous night together, each barefoot and naked. In the initial pictures, Mrs. Allerton appeared to be the dominant, wearing a strap-on and having all three other women on their knees. She had Miss Simmons sucking on the black dildo, one that appeared to be eight inches in length. Sylvia also had Ms. Stevens licking her well round ass. I couldn't show Kurt these pictures. From my experiences, it would not have been pretty. I clicked on the second file Jayashree had forwarded. It opened and displayed 30 thumbnail pictures. Even at the small size, I could tell they were naughty. I stood and closed the door: I wanted no interruptions. I clicked on a thumbnail and watched as a full-sized picture appeared. I was surprised, not at the scene of Sylvia plowing the young Miss Simons, but that my operative could get so close undetected. I flipped through the first page of thumbs, each one more explicit than the previous. I've seen much in my years of investigating, even more in my years of being a Dominant. Pictures don't affect me as they might most men, having seen most of it all, but these were. My penis began to stir at the sight of the mature woman using the younger, plunging the plastic phallic object deep within her vagina. From the expression on her face, Miss Simmons was enjoying it. I undid my belt as the pictures changed. Christine had a page of Ms. Stevens and Ms. Magee entwined on the parlor carpets, fingers and tongues exploring holes. I pulled down the zipper and slipped down my pants and boxer briefs. My cock was hard and excited. I reached down and softly touched it as my gaze came across a particularly hot scene: The two older women engaged in the 69 position. I was about to look at another picture when there was a soft knock on the door. I looked up and saw Jayashree enter. She smiled and wordlessly removed her skirt. She closed the door and walked out of her garment. "I knew you would need me, Sir," she whispered as she approached me. She removed her blouse and let it fall to the floor. She stood before me and reached around her back. She unsnapped her bra. She leaned forward and let it fall on my lap. I grinned as she began to kneel, a hand replacing mine on my cock. "Sir may I?" she asked. I knew what she wanted to do. I nodded. She pushed back her long, straight black hair and leaned into my lap. She moaned when her hot lips touched my engorged penis head. I threw my head back: Her talented mouth always excited me. "I'm glad the Princess could help," Jayashree said as she sat clothed on the couch, a bottle of water on her hand. "Thank you," I said, returning to the laptop. I didn't need to see any more pictures. I closed the album and pulled up the email. I needed to see Christine when she came into the office in an hour, to discuss what else she had seen last night. "How did you know I needed your mouth?" I asked. She was drinking and the question caught her off-guard. She spit and spilled some water. "How long have I known you?" She looked at me with her big, brown eyes and I knew I should have known the answer. "Good thing you didn't spit or spill earlier," I quipped. "Or Princess would have been punished." Jayashree demurred but still managed a grin. The laptop pinged: I had an email. I opened it, Christine would be in sooner, and she found more information on Sylvia Allerton. "Christine's coming in soon," I told my assistant. "She has more info." "Oh, I can't wait for this," she said. She stood and walked to the door. She locked it. "Need anything more, Mr. Charron?" she asked in her best secretary voice. I stifled a laugh and shook my head. "Then I'll be at my desk," she pouted. "If you need me, I'll be just a call away." She wiggled her ass as she walked out. She didn't close the door, another sign she was not pleased with me. I stood and walked to close the door. I had much to do before my operative Christine arrived; I didn't need to be disturbed. Jayashree turned to me and tried to show that she was still upset with me. She did a terrible job. She smiled. "Send Christine in right away when she comes." I closed the door. Jayashree assembled a folder of printouts and documents she and Christine has spent two days finding on the internet. She had reports she typed from my operative's notes. She also had hard copies of six rather tame photos of Sylvia Allerton actions. I put it in my backpack and headed out the office to meet with Kurt. "Mr. Valentine Charron," Sylvia Allerton said as she nearly ran into me. "I need to speak to you." The woman over 50 was showing her age this morning. With her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and wearing no makeup, I clearly saw panic in her face. "Yes," I calmly said. I pushed past her and tried to get to the elevator. I had a meeting with her husband in twenty minutes and wanted to present the evidence. "Could we talk?" She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. I turned around and saw a woman that looked defeated. "Walk with me," I said curtly. She wordlessly joined my side as the elevator doors opened. She began to speak but I silenced her with a hand. "Why couldn't you just be honest with him? Why did you deceive him, run around with other women?" She began to sob, but I didn't let it deter me. "He thought the world of you, and how did you repay his love? With this fucking bullshit." "Could I please explain," she pleaded. I shook my head at hear. I pulled my pack to the front and opened it. I reached down and grabbed the folder. "Here, this is what we know about you." I handed her a copy of what we've gathered. She inhaled and covered her mouth. "Is there anything I can do to stop you?" "No, it's too late." The elevator stopped and the doors opened at the parking garage. "You should have thought about it ten years ago." I left her crying there and headed to my car. I didn't look back as I went to meet Kurt. I presented the folder to him, told him of what my operative and secretary had found on the internet. He sat silently as I told him that his wife was a lesbian dominatrix. He didn't move or show emotion as I spelled out that her employment was merely a front of her true job. "You're telling me that she gets paid to inflict pain to older women?" he finally asked after an almost intolerable silent moment. "In plain English, that's what she's been doing." "I don't understand why she lied about her age, though." "Sometimes when just do," I answered. "Why did she marry me? It makes me wonder if she really loved me." I didn't have an answer for him on that, but I do believe she did at one point. "I can't say," I answered as a cop-out. Kurt Allerton said quietly, staring blankly at the documentation. I was going to suggest that we go see a divorce lawyer when he finally spoke. "Thank you, Remy. I have a lot to mull. I do know something. I'm seeing a lawyer." We stood, shook hands, and I left. I went to my car and pulled out my cell. I saw I had messages from Jayashree and Christine, along with a voice mail from Elise. The texts asked me how the meeting went. I returned that it went as expected. I added to Christine that she'll more than likely receive a bonus for her hard work on this. "Princess, go home and be presentable to me when I arrive," I sent to Jayashree. "Sir has need of his Princess." I listened to Elise's message. She was going to be late because the computers at her job crashed. I shook my head and thanked God I left that world. "Take your time," I texted. "I'll send something for you to eat for dinner," I added. I made a quick call to the Italian place near her job and placed an order. I had them put it on my tab, one that I had started when I worked close to them. If She was Honest "Dinner will arrive in 25 minutes," was the message I sent to Elise. She returned a thank you. The phone vibrated: it was a message from Jayashree. "Princess does so to please her Master." I could imagine what she looked like now, her small body naked, on her knees, in her bedroom, waiting for me to come. I pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the office. I needed a flogger, one that my Princess loved used on her ass.