Seven Days
by RevTrout
Day Two
The following day was a Tuesday, and I called my office to let Mr Kiefer know I wouldn’t be there. It was no great thing; mine isn’t the type of job that requires a strict 9-to-5 attendance record. As long as I get my work done on time, I can pretty well show up whenever I like. And that morning, I wasn’t even thinking about work, nor about much else. I began that day in a state of physical, mental and emotional exhaustion.
I was constantly aware, from the moment I woke, of the collar that still gently gripped my throat. I don’t believe I ever lost awareness of its touch throughout that preceding night; on the occasions that I drifted into some fitful semblance of sleep, still it was there in my dreams. Some part of my mind, some voice of frustrated sanity, begged me repeatedly that morning to remove the thing... but I didn’t.
Not in private. Brandy Miller had denied me that privilege, and I had committed myself to obeying this frightening girl, even when she couldn’t possibly know if I betrayed her. I didn’t try to reason it out. It was another thing I wasn’t ready to think about. Only my careful obedience mattered, and that required no thought at all.
At first, this resolve had no impact upon my sex drive. I’m a habitually early riser, even when my sleep the night before has been as unsatisfying as it had been on that night, so I needed a toothbrush and some coffee before I could care much about anything sexual. So I had a collar wrapped around my neck. What of it?
The first change from this mindset occurred during breakfast. I was sitting at my dining room table, nibbling disinterestedly at a piece of toast, my thoughts still refusing to come together, when I gradually became aware of the basic, normally unremarkable sensation of my chair’s pressure against my bottom.
Not really knowing why, nor especially wanting to understand, I leaned forward a little and gently pressed myself down against the seat. No, I didn’t begin rubbing myself against it like some dog in rut... but after a moment of this increased pressure, I did allow my legs to part somewhat, and then leaned a little further forward, so that the pressure now lay against my slightly sore pussy. Between my naked flesh and that chair, there was the soft layer of my terrycloth bathrobe. I studied this sensation, not thinking about it... only feeling it.
Ever so slightly, I rocked myself over that center of contact, causing the firm pressure against my sex to ebb, then flow.
I noticed that my breathing had become slightly irregular.
I became increasingly aware of that collar about my throat, that symbol marking me as Brandy’s property.
Brandy’s... pet.
I dropped the toast on my plate, then deliberately rose and went back upstairs to my bedroom. The bathrobe made it as far as a little landing where the staircase does a ninety degree turn.
For the rest of the morning, I lay naked in bed, now wide awake. Some of this time was spent curled into a fetal position, my thighs pressed tightly together while the heat of my sex seemed to radiate from between them. Later, I turned and lay on my stomach, then parted my legs wide. The press of my breasts against the sheet was slightly maddening.
I ached to touch myself, sometimes so badly that I writhed a little. But I couldn’t. Again, it was a thing which little Brandy Miller had forbidden me. And again, I felt an unreasoning need to obey.
Eventually I reached over to my bedside table and reset my alarm clock, then slept again. My dreams... ah, my dreams. I can’t speak of them.
Five p.m. found me in position once more, naked but for my collar. If that morning I had been somewhat unable to think, now I was unwilling to do so. The whole situation was too absurd, too utterly surreal, to merit contemplation. And as five became five-fifteen, and then five-thirty, the strangeness only increased.
What held me there was the all-too-real memory of the previous evening. The press of Brandy’s thighs against the sides of my head as her juices filled my mouth. The deep thrusts of her fake cock into my body as I bent over the back of my couch and held myself open for her. Had even two days passed since that jarring event, I might have attempted to act as though nothing had happened at all. I might have just tried to go about my life.
Instead, I knelt there and waited, wondering when I might hear the front door opening behind me. Wondering if I would hear it... and feeling strangely despondent as more time passed and nothing happened.
Then something did happen.
With neither warning nor any attempt at subtlety, someone loudly opened the front door. I jumped a little and nearly gave myself whiplash looking over my shoulder, and there she was, smiling across the room at me as she stood in the doorway.
“Turn your head back around, pet,” she ordered. “No peeking.”
I obeyed. I could feel the heat of a bright, frantic blush across my cheeks and brow. It was beginning again. She was here for me.
In that brief glimpse of her, I’d seen fishnet stockings underneath a short denim skirt and elegant silken blouse. That same half-stuffed bag was slung from one shoulder, the laptop peeking out of it. She had looked vibrant, utterly relaxed yet excited.
She was here for me.
Her gaze had smoldered. I don’t use that word lightly. Her green eyes shone with hungry, predatory intensity.
Here for me, was all that my mind could say to itself as I knelt there for her, eyes straight ahead and my most private parts thrust upward in surrender. Face burning ever brighter as I listened to her locking the front door behind her. Here for me.
I listened as she left her bag against the foot of the couch, right behind me, then crossed into the kitchen. Listened to her going through my cabinets. I heard her draw a glass of ice from the convenient little ice machine in the door of our refrigerator, then cold water from the little spigot beside it. Sound of her placing a filled glass upon the kitchen counter, then opening the refrigerator and nosing around inside it.
When I heard her close the ‘fridge and pick the water back up, I somehow knew that I was done waiting. Her next visit would be to me, personally.
And of course, it was.
She took one knee almost in front of me, then thrust her hands in front of my nose. One held another little capsule of pink and white, identical to the one a day previous. In her other hand was, of course, a glass of iced water.
When I reached up to accept the drug, she drew her hand back a little. “Just use your mouth,” she said, her voice at once soft and hard, the proverbial iron fist beneath the velvet glove. It was a voice well matched to the ravenous hunger that I’d earlier seen reflected in her eyes.
I stretched my head forward and accepted the pill from her hand, then in the same manner accepted a drink of water. She fed the latter to me carefully, in little sips, with the finger of her free hand gently poised beneath my chin.
Then she just knelt there for a moment, regarding me. Because I carefully kept my own gaze fixed straight forward, at my stereo system, I could only guess what expression was on her face.
At length, she reached across to gently pet me, as a child might pet her beloved puppy. I trembled helplessly, my muscles perfectly rigid... and then quite simply forced myself to relax, to accept. To surrender.
I leaned into her caress.
She laughed mischievously and scratched me behind an ear, then withdrew her hand entirely. This left me shaken, confused.
“Try not to knock this over,” she said, turning to set the water glass down on the carpet, right against my ankle. My senses were momentarily centered around the cold, wet touch of that perspiring glass.
Brandy moved behind me, and I listened as she slid the coffee table aside, clearing the space between myself and the couch. Then she plucked up the glass of water and placed it on the coffee table. Some totally insane corner of my mind was quietly pleased that she used a coaster. Letting this absurd consideration simply pass through the rest of me, I continued to stare straight ahead at my stereo.
She stroked one of my inner thighs, and her hand was cold and wet from having held the glass. I could feel the gooseflesh rising across my body.
“Back up a bit,” she said, and drew away. I heard her taking a seat on the couch, centered behind me. Obediently, I crawled backward. “Good. Stop... Beautiful.”
A single finger made contact with my skin, centered in the small of my back. It began to trail its way backward, then down through the valley between my wide-open ass cheeks. As the fingertip drew across a sensitive little bud of flesh that she had penetrated and plugged only a day before, I whimpered.
“There’s no point yet in giving you the audiovisual,” she said in a frighteningly conversational tone, while moving her hand to playfully squeeze one of my asscheeks. “It won’t take the drug nearly so long to kick in this time, but we still have a few minutes. So while we wait, let’s examine you.”
She removed her hand from me, and I heard her digging in her bag. There was the distinctive popping of a small plastic cap being opened. Then the also curiously recognizable sound of a condom being removed from its plastic pouch. And then the only sound was of the air conditioning.
My breathing faltered when I felt the first thick dab of KY jelly against my asshole. Brandy efficiently smeared the stuff onto me with two fingers that she’d obviously thrust into a slightly too-large condom. I could feel it crinkling against my skin.
She began to firmly massage me, not hard enough to cause penetration, but almost. From the pressure, I could feel for myself how firmly I was clenching myself closed.
“Relax your ass,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” I gasped out, my eyes burning twin holes into the stereo, and then I made myself obey.
At once, those two fingers took me, sliding in deep. My body rebelled, muscles once again becoming rigid while my ass squeezed her penetrating fingers, trying desperately to expel them.
Despite this, and despite a trembling throughout my naked body that could better be described as open shuddering, I held my pose. I froze there, kneeling with my breasts against the floor and my violated ass submissively raised for more. Had I dared move, I think I might have exploded into a disastrous state of total rebellion.. So I didn’t dare move.
Brandy laughed, and then her fingers became twin spikes, repeatedly hammering into me until I began crying out between gasps.
“Relax your ass,” she repeated, and this time there was nothing soft at all about her voice. Drawing from some reserve of willpower that I hadn’t previously known existed, I took control of my own bottom and made it relax, accepting her attack without resistance. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
At once, the thrusts became far, far more gentle. Her fingers continued to slide deep into me, feeling like they had somehow doubled in length. They would withdraw until they’d come almost entirely out, and then smoothly reverse course and slip back in deep. But smoothly, steadily. Her other hand came to rest against one of my naked hips, then rose briefly to give me a playful slap.
“Do you like that better, Noa?”
“...yes, Mistress...” It was hard to speak; I was breathing quite heavily.
“Are your eyes closed?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I confessed, realizing only then that it was so.
“Open them. Keep your head erect and your eyes pointing straight forward.”
“Yes... yes, Mistress...” I fought down a terrible urge to rock my body in response to the continued pumping of her fingers. I also fought not to whimper; the sensation of it was becoming maddening.
Her fingers withdrew, and I heard her strip away the condom. At once their touch returned, this time between the lips of my pussy. Together, we discovered just how wet I had become.
“Oh, you bad girl,” she said, and I could tell from her voice that she was smiling radiantly. “You really do like me to work you ass. Admit it to me now, slave.”
“Mistress...” I hesitated, then forced my mouth to work again. “Mistress, I liked how that felt.”
“I should spank you furiously for that evasion,” she mused, her fingers becoming still against my sex. Then firmly, yet also very gently, she slid them inside me. “But it’s okay. You’ll get there soon enough. Do you like this?”
“...yes, Mistress,” I confessed. I was now panting, and the urge to rock myself against this delicious probe had become nearly overwhelming.
“Mmmmm. Little Noa Fischer likes to be finger-banged by her babysitter. I think it’s good for us to know that about you, slave.”
This time, I whimpered out loud. She once more withdrew her fingers, then dropped to her knees behind me, her skirted pelvis squeezed in tight against my naked bottom. She reached around me and slipped her wetted fingers into my mouth.
“Suck them clean,” she said. Then, when I had finished, she dried them against my hair and lifted herself back onto the couch. I heard her digging in her bag again. “Okay, I think we’re safe to set you up for the audiovisual now. You’re very cooperative, Noa. Admit it to yourself or not, but a really powerful part of you wants this. I hope you’ll stay smart and keep letting that part of you have the lead.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I promised. What else could I say?
The laptop went back onto the floor in front of me, then the buds were pressed into my ears. Brandy took my head gently between her hands and made a playful show of adjusting me until I stared at the screen. Then she depressed a key, rose, and left me to study more of the sounds and visuals that she had selected for me.
This time the music was louder, faster, and of a far more vulgar nature than before. The first tune was unfamiliar to me at that time. Since then, I have learned that it is called Crab Louse, as performed by a band called the Lords of Acid.
The colorful pulses of light had been set up to match the frenetic rhythm of the music. Beyond an unshakable awareness of my recently penetrated openings, my attention was devoured.
Some time passed in this fashion. Once again, I cannot guess how long it was.
The entire production reached a point of crescendo, then ceased. The ear buds had become silent, the screen reverting to a tool bar display. Prominent among the choices was a little “Play” icon, offered in case Brandy had any desire to immediately give me another dose of the same.
She removed the ear buds, then closed her computer and carried it behind me. I heard it going back into her bag. Other items came out and were handled in ways that produced little noises of their own. I heard the pop of something plastic being opened, the snap of it being closed again. I smelled something casually pleasant, some type of gentle cleaning product, I guessed.
A disposable “wet wipe” was abruptly pressed between my buttocks. It simply rested there for a moment, then slid upward in the first of several firm strokes, cleaning away the heavy coating of lubricant. The wipe was used briskly, but not impersonally; throughout the moment, Brandy paid special attention to my point of entry, teasing it, keeping it stimulated.
The wipe was removed. A moment later, hands closed over my already wide-opened buttocks, spreading them even further apart. A tongue made contact with my asshole. It licked me softly, then more firmly, then finally thrust itself into me. Penetrating to a surprising depth, it then began to almost languidly twist and wiggle inside my ass. I barely restrained myself from crying out, then found myself further surprised to see Brandy returning to kneel before me. It was someone else entirely who continued to have at my bottom.
Taking me by the chin, she made me look up into her green eyes. They studied me intently from an expressionless face.
“Beg my friend to fuck you now,” she told me. “Be convincing.”
And so I obediently addressed this faceless stranger who sat or knelt behind me, with his tongue moving inside my ass. I begged him to fuck me. I ground my bottom against his mouth, inviting his wiggling tongue to consider itself welcome within. I groaned with unfeigned arousal, and then very, very meekly sold to him the idea that he would so thoroughly enjoy fucking me. I explained how badly I needed his cock. I confessed my secret ambition, to see my pussy forever tamed to him, trained to flawlessly pleasure him upon request or command.
Throughout these protestations, Brandy continued to hold my gaze, drinking in whatever expression my face wore just then. I know that she saw at least a reflection of my absolute horror over my own masterful performance. I knelt there and begged for that cock.
The stranger removed his mouth from my ass, then silently granted me my request. I had wondered until that moment whether or not he was planning to assfuck me. To my dubious relief, I discovered that it was my sex... my pussy... that he desired.
First came a probing touch, the slick head of his cock pressing against me, seeking and finding all the terrible wetness and heat of my unfeigned, desperate arousal. Then his hands clamped down around my hips, and with one firm thrust he impaled me to the hilt.
I cried out and bucked wildly, once, then snapped back into trembling acceptance.
He began at once to fuck me in earnest. There was little that was gentle about his brand of loveplay. He was smugly endowed, similar in length and thickness to Brandy’s artificial substitute, and he fucked with boundless, callous energy. I knew that he wasn’t wearing a condom.
“You weren’t... exaggerating,” I heard spoken behind me in what sounded like a very young man’s voice. His tone was utterly casual, almost clinical, despite the increasingly heavy breaths between which he spoke.. “This one is... exquisitely... tight.”
“I thought you’d like her,” Brandy said, reaching out to fondly stroke my hair once more. “I’m sure her husband does, too. Doesn’t he, slave?”
“...yes…yes… Mistress…” I barely recognized my own voice. It had become an alien thing, the frantic babbling which I think can only be produced by a woman who’s being fucked very, very hard. “...yes, Mistress... yes, Mistress…”
“You’re pretty confident,” Brandy noted approvingly, “aren’t you?”
“...I... I...” I found it impossible to formulate a response. The pounding of this man’s cock was sufficient to steadily, rhythmically obliterate all thought.
“Hard to feel confident, or humble, or much of anything else right now besides I’m-seriously-getting-fucked, isn’t it?” Brandy asked in mock sympathy.
“...yes... yes... Mis... Mistress...”
“Here, let me help you get your mind off it. Move your head a little lower.” She took a fistful of hair and guided my head into the desired position, craning my neck backward until I stared at a point where ceiling met wall. Then she crawled around until she was centered right in front of me, her knees resting against my lowered shoulders. Keeping a firm grip on my hair, she further adjusted my head until her crotch was pressed firmly against my mouth.
Then she lifted her denim skirt and draped it over my head, and I discovered at once that Brandy wasn’t wearing panties. I opened my mouth to accept her naked sex, and found that she was as furiously aroused as myself. As I began to lap at her, she gripped my hair in both hands and simply hung on, riding me.
For awhile after that, nothing changed. The stranger seemed in no hurry to finish fucking me, and Brandy clearly relished what my tongue was doing to her. We stayed like that, with my naked body sandwiched between them, servicing them both, while outside the world turned a bit more.
I believe strongly in body language, in the silent but often powerful cues that pass between human animals, speaking together without words. It amuses me sometimes to know that, when the minds directing those bodies are unaware of semiotic theory, then their bodies wind up conversing behind their own figurative backs, exchanging secrets on a purely subconscious level.
A communication of that type surely passed between Brandy and the stranger, because after a very long time of no conversation whatsoever, their final climaxes came at exactly the same moment. As Brandy groaned and flooded my mouth once more with her come, the stranger’s hands became bands of iron about my waist and I felt those especially brutal, definitive thrusts as his cock began to explode deep inside me.
Then I came, too, so violently that it inspired another flood of sympathetic juice from Brandy. I greedily drank her.
For awhile after, they continued to hold me captive between them. Brandy once more required me to carefully lick her clean, while the stranger seemed content to simply continue impaling me. He pumped very gently now, as an afterthought, perhaps luxuriating in nothing more than his ability to do just that. To fuck me, then use his own come as additional lube while he fucked me some more. I don’t know.
When Brandy finally lifted herself from my mouth, the stranger’s cock also withdrew. At once, I felt the majority of his load spilling out of me, dribbling onto the carpet between my knees.
“Did you like that, slave?” Brandy asked, very softly.
“Yes, Mistress,” I humbly confessed, too subdued by this girl to even blush anymore. In that moment, I think, her control over me was as complete as it’s ever been, before or since. And I believe she knew it.
“When I tell you to,” she said, “you’ll turn around and lick him clean. Cock, balls, his thighs... anywhere you’ve made a mess, you’ll clean it. You will not raise your eyes to above... oh, say his bellybutton. And you will ignore the cameras. Do you understand me, slave?”
“Yes, Mistress...” Cameras???
“Do it now.”
I turned around and, carefully ignoring the two video cameras that had been set up on either side of the couch, allowed myself a single second in which to study this cock that had just been at me. It was larger than Haim’s, though not by much, and it appeared well-lubricated with our mixed juices. The scent of these juices was nearly overpowering, and for one terrible moment, I feared I might not be able to do this terrible thing. I might balk, right then and there.
And so immediately, not allowing myself to further consider the matter, I took the stranger’s semi-engorged cock into my mouth and began to very thoroughly clean it with my lips and tongue.
“I’m impressed,” he commented while I worked. “And including today, she’s only had two sessions?”
“That’s right,” Brandy said, “but don’t read too deeply into it. I think most of her progress has been... you know, like, her own. She was smart enough to figure out that it’d be best just to cooperate, and so far she’s been strong enough to actually do it. To make herself play ball, you know?”
“Oh, I know. And it helps so much that she’s enjoying it. Mmmm.” The last, I’m certain, was his reaction as I accidentally let his cock slip from between my lips, then hurriedly bent to suck it back in. One of his hands fell upon my head, stroking me in much the same way that Brandy was becoming fond of doing. “She’s loving this.”
I felt so utterly exposed in that moment, so barren of defense. It was true, this terrible accusation that he so calmly leveled against me. I can’t in good conscience say that “love” fueled my passion in that moment, but whatever its source, the passion itself had become all-consuming.
I knelt there, naked but for a pet collar, most lovingly giving my own mouth’s sweetest possible attention to this man’s cock... the same cock that had, moments before, so completely savaged my pussy. My knees were well apart, my ankles farther, exactly as my Mistress had taught me. My come-dripping sex and burning ass were turned up to provide a perfect display for Brandy, who remained behind me.
I was committed to this, and as I felt a menacing hardness returning to the cock in my mouth, I whimpered in perfectly slutty anticipation. Yes, I suppose I was “loving” this, and we all three knew it. I had begun to make peace with my new purpose in life, as an object to be shared between Brandy and her friends. A pleasure object. I had begun to revel in it.
I judged that the stranger’s cock was sufficiently clean, and although the touch of my lips and tongue had brought him back to full erection, he had not begun to thrust. I tentatively slipped my mouth backward until I was only kissing the head. Meeting with no comment, I then began to move my lips along the shaft’s underside, letting his cock slide upward along my face, where it left a snail trail of my own spit. I reached the base of his cock and continued downward, until I was reverently licking his balls.
He leaned forward over me, forcing me to crane my head in order to keep my tongue properly busy. Then his hands closed over my breasts, squeezing them and deliberately bouncing them, getting their weight. Then he released them, leaned back, and helpfully slipped his balls into my mouth.
“Nice breasts,” he said. “Do you have her wearing nipple clamps yet?”
“That begins after I leave tonight,” Brandy replied. “She already has her own set of weighted clamps. She keeps them in the top drawer of her dresser, along with a few other nasty things. She sent me pictures.”
“Don’t sleep with them on,” he said, and I could tell he was now talking to me. He tickled me playfully behind an ear, and Brandy laughed.
Believing I had his balls properly clean, I studied his thighs for any markings. Finding a couple of droplets of come that had splashed one leg, I lowered my head and carefully lapped them up. Then, feeling uncertain about what to do now that my work was completed, I turned my face straight forward—putting my nose right up against his rigid cock—and awaited my next instructions.
“Oh, now, that’s just lovely,” the stranger pronounced. “Brandy, you already have this woman completely pussy-whipped. She lives to serve. Props.”
Then he stood, and I saw that he hadn’t bothered to undress for this event; a pair of jeans and cotton briefs were balled around his ankles, and a comfortable-looking pair of running shoes were on his feet. As he reached down to pull up his jeans, I noticed a Rolex watch on his slender but hairy wrist.
His hair was light brown and thick, but also very soft. Of all the qualities that this man possessed, I suppose it’s his body hair that I’ll forget last, if ever.
I’m reasonably certain I’ve never been taken by him, nor even met him, since that evening. It’s a curiosity about him, that he apparently only had me that single time. But then again, one never knows.
The stranger stepped aside to work on fastening his jeans and belt, and at once Brandy was in his place. I first saw only her perfectly toned calves, clad in those wickedly brazen fishnet stockings. Then she was kneeling before me, facing away from me with her elbows propped on the seat of my couch, her ass right in my face.
“Lift my skirt and start licking my asshole,” she said. “And pay attention. I’ve a few more instructions for you.”
I obeyed.
I obeyed. What deeds we are capable of relating in three simple syllables.
“Close your eyes,” she said. “You’ll keep them closed until five minutes after your hear your front door closing. Later this evening, you’ll go straight to your room and dig out all those sex toys you were using in those pictures. You remember that one shot, like you were about to do yourself with that butt plug?”
“Yes, Mistress!” I answered, then immediately resumed licking.
“Have you impaled yourself yet with that thing?”
“No, Mistress!”
“I didn’t think so. It’s a slightly larger model than my own, and you were a pretty snug fit on mine. Okay. Then tonight, start breaking yourself in on your own butt plug. I don’t care how you pace it, but by the time dawn rolls around, you need to have had it fully inserted for at least an hour. Got it, Noa?”
“Yes, Mistress!” I was terrified. The gag butt plug that I’d bought for that picture was, I thought, more than slightly larger than hers. At that time, I had no understanding of the sizes that I might eventually be required to satisfy.
“Good girl.” She gave her butt a playful wiggle against my face. “And good job, by the way. I hope you like licking my ass, Noa, because you’ll be doing a lot of it. Consider it the signature item of our relationship, your tongue on my ass. Right, slave?”
“Yes, Mistress!”
“Mmm.” She leaned back a little, pressing firmly against my face. “Lick me, Noa. Harder.”
I obeyed, pressing so hard with my tongue that it entered her slightly with each pass.
“Yes, that’s... yes...” Brandy trembled, then seemed to completely relax against my tongue, so that it dove even more deeply into her. “Yes, Noa. Good girl. Do you like that?”
“.............no, Mistress...”
I licked furiously, desperately seeking to please while I awaited the thunderbolts to fall.
Brandy laughed.
“Well. Baby steps,” she said. “I don’t want you to suffer more than is necessary to please me, if that makes any sense. I’ll be happy for you on that day when you find yourself licking my ass for your own personal pleasure. And that day’s coming fast, never worry! But until then, I guess I’ll be satisfied with you doing it for my pleasure. Isn’t that what’s most important, Noa? My pleasure?”
“Yes, Mistress!”
“Good girl. So you’ll work yourself good tonight with that butt plug. Also, I want you to get yourself familiar again with those nipple clamps. You looked like you were wearing them pretty tightly in your pictures, yeah?”
“Yes, Mistress!”
“Stop licking. Just keep your face in my ass, and keep listening. So yeah, I want you to put them back on tonight, and wear them around the house a bit. And Noa, wear them tight. Not tight enough to bruise yourself, but your nipples had definitely better be looking swollen and tender tomorrow, right?”
“...yes, Mistress,” I meekly replied. Around us, I heard the other person engaged in various activities. I recognized, among other things, the sounds of the cameras being broken down and stored away inside some kind of suitcase or trunk.
“Good. Expect to throw a party here tomorrow night. You’ll have five guests, so be ready with plenty of chips and sodas. Make sure to include tortilla chips and mild salsa for me, personally. Dress however you like, and don’t waste too much effort toward making the house cleaner than it already is. I trust you not to embarrass me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. Remember right now to keep your eyes closed for five minutes after you hear us leave. Kiss!”
And with that command, she ground her ass against my mouth. Sensing that she wouldn’t settle for less than an equally enthusiastic response, I thrust my tongue as deeply into her as I could. Brandy held still for a moment, appearing content to simply enjoy the feel of it. Then she giggled and rocked forward, freeing my tongue.
“Good girl.”
“Your husband should be very proud of you, Noa,” the stranger added from somewhere to my left. “You truly were a marvelous fuck.”
“Thank you, Master,” I murmured, and at last I was blushing again. Furiously.
Brandy and the stranger gathered their things and left. I continued to kneel there, counting in my head until five minutes had passed. Then, still keeping my eyes tightly closed, I lay down on my side, just feeling the carpet along the length of my naked flesh. Feeling the stickiness of three people’s come, drying against my skin. I listened to the air conditioner and thought about the things I’d just experienced.
Later that evening, the phone rang. It was my Haim, calling to check in on me. I talked for a bit with my husband, and then with my son. They were having a good time, but they also missed me terribly.
When we had hung up, I rose and padded upstairs to the bedroom. I dug out my collection of sex toys, some of them familiar friends, others that had only been used that once, as props. From among them I selected the nipple clamps and the butt plug.
The latter truly was a fearsome thing, generous in both its curved length and the thickness of its base. It lay heavy in my hand.