les histoires de chrislebo

"'Now, lift your ass off the seat and spread your lips wide for me.' Kara, it was like I was watching a different woman doing these things, obeying him now without hesitation. But it wasn't a different woman that lifted her ass off the seat and spread her lips wide for him, it was me. And it was me that gasped as he slid the devise into my soaking pussy.

"'You may sit down now,' he said, withdrawing his hands and turning towards his backpack. 'But keep your skirt up.'

"He turned back to me a moment later, only now he held the remote control in his hand. He said nothing as he lowered his other hand to my pussy. And when he began gently stroking my clit my eyes closed automatically and I leaned my head back, biting my lower lip as I lost myself in the tender pleasure he was providing. That's when he turned the vibrator on full speed.

"I gasped, my body instantly going rigid as the pleasure shot through my loins. But after only a few seconds he turned the egg off and withdrew his hand.

"'Look at me,' he ordered. With some effort I refocused my attention and turned towards him.

"'This is what's going to happen next,' he said. 'You're going to stand up and walk to the restroom. Once inside, you're going to enter a stall and remove your blouse and bra. Then, after putting the bra in your purse, you're going to put your blouse back on. Then you're going to return here and give me the bra. Understand?'"

Amy paused and took a deep breath before continuing.

"I told you I was wearing a sheer blouse, Kara, sheer enough to see my bra through and certainly sheer enough to see my breasts if I removed the bra. But I never even thought about questioning him. Instead, I just nodded my head and answered. 'Yes, sir. I understand.'

"With that, Derek slid out of the booth and extended his hand to help me up. I slid to the edge of the seat and reached for his hand. As soon as my hand came in contact with his he switched the egg on low. With some effort, I managed to rise to me feet and look him briefly in the eyes. Then I turned towards the restroom and began moving gingerly across the restaurant floor with the egg still vibrating in my pussy. When I finally reached the restroom I pushed the door open and slid inside. Thankfully, the egg went still as the door slid shut behind me."

Amy paused long enough to take a deep breath, then continued.

"I immediately collapsed against the wall, closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath to collect my wits."

"I should say so," Kara interjected, "after what you'd just been through."

"Don't get me wrong, Kara. By that point I was committed. I wanted to go through with whatever Derek had in mind more than I can ever remember wanting anything, and nothing -- and I do mean nothing -- was going to stand in my way.

"Anyway, I gathered myself quickly and headed for the nearest stall. I wasted no time at all removing my blouse. My bra followed a second or two later. I folded the bra as best I could and crammed it into my purse, then slipped the blouse back on and buttoned it up. All told, I don't think I was in that stall for much more than a minute before I slipped back out and headed for the mirror.

"I tell you, even though I was committed to going through with this, I admit I was taken aback by just how visible my breasts were through the blouse. Even in the subdued lighting of the restaurant, anybody who looked my way would get an eyeful. But when it came right down to it, it really didn't matter, nothing was going to keep me from obeying Derek's command.

"At that point the door opened and a woman entered. I grabbed my purse quickly and turned towards the door, making sure my back was towards her as I slid by and exited room.

"I tell you, Kara, you can't possibly imagine what it was like walking across that restaurant. I mean I was absolutely certain that everyone in the place was staring at my erect nipples as I made my way back to the booth.

"Derek saw me coming and rose to his feet, positioning himself so he'd be between me and the main part of the restaurant as I slid into the booth. But when I eased past him to take my seat he grabbed my arm and turned me towards him. Then he reached out with each hand and took hold of my nipples, pinching them through the blouse.

"'Nice and erect, I see,' he said with an approving smile. 'Just how I like them.'

"'Thank you,' I murmured lamely as my face turned eighteen shades of red. He released me then and allowed me to slide into the booth, with him following close behind.

"Just as we were settling in, our waitress approached.

"'You ready to order yet?' she asked, looking first at Derek, then turning her eyes towards me and flinching briefly as she took in the state of my dress. A long moment followed during which she looked me over carefully, with each passing second leaving me feeling more and more like some cheap tramp. Finally, she pulled her eyes off of me and turned back to Derek.

"'Our special today is a Turkey club with fries,' she said without batting an eyelash. 'You can substitute onion rings for an extra dollar.'

"Then, with the waitress watching his every move, Derek moved his hand to my thigh and slid it up my leg, not stopping until it was touching the bare skin above my nylons. 'That's perfect,' he smiled. 'We'll have two of those. And a couple more takes, too.'

"It took a few seconds for our server to draw her eyes away from Derek's hand and back to his face. 'It'll be right up,' she said, giving him a knowing smile.

"Derek smiled back at her. 'Not too quickly, I hope.'

"As soon as the waitress left Derek turned back towards me, the remote control somehow already in his free hand. Without a word he removed his right hand from my thigh and took the remote from the left, then he turned slightly to the side, lowered his newly freed left hand to my leg and slid it up until it reached my pussy. Then he leaned in enough for me to feel his breath on my ear as he began lightly stroking my clit.

"I turned towards him and tried to look into his eyes, but found myself unable to keep my own eyes open as a soft moan slipped through my lips. That's when he turned on the egg again, low speed.

"I jumped slightly, opening my eyes instinctively and sliding my hand to his thigh while he kept up the pace with his fingers, flicking my clit gently and rubbing it softly. Then I eased my eyes closed again and allowed the pleasure to envelop me.

"I began squirming uneasily in my seat as young Derek kept up his assault, bringing me further and further under his spell. Then, as I edged ever nearer the point of no return, he suddenly switched the egg to high speed, dropped the remote onto the seat between us, grabbed me by the hair and pulled me hard against him, even as my body exploded in orgasm.

"But he wasn't finished.

"Releasing my hair, he slid his arm around my back and grabbed hold of my breast, squeezing it through my blouse as the egg continued to rock my pussy as another orgasm struck home. I hadn't even realized his other hand had left my clit until the egg suddenly went still. He then released my breast, withdrew his hand and slid away from me.

"'Get a hold of yourself,' he said quietly. 'Here comes dinner.'

"Well, Kara, I didn't get a hold of myself. In fact, I don't think I even moved from my slouched over position while the waitress placed our food on the table. I heard her and Derek exchange a few words before she left, but I had no idea what they said. I didn't really get my act together for another minute or so, by which time Derek was nearly half-way through his sandwich.

"Once I finally got my head straight I sat up, neatened myself up and proceeded to eat my meal in silence."

Amy paused, reached for her glass and downed the remainder of her wine, while Kara followed suit.

"More?" Kara asked.

"No, thank you," replied Amy.

"If you don't mind my asking," Kara interjected, "why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're my friend, Kara. I could tell how turned on you were yesterday, just as I could tell how disgusted and ashamed of yourself you were by the way you went rushing from the house. I want you to understand that you're not alone, that you've done nothing to be ashamed of, and that it's okay to let lust run away with your mind once in a while; in fact it's even healthy."

Kara pondered Amy's words for a moment, then responded. "I really appreciate your concern, Amy, and I promise I'll give it some thought."

"You sound like the story's over," Amy countered.

"Isn't it?"

"Oh no, girl. We're just getting started."

"But you've made your point already."

"Are you saying you find my story boring?" Amy queried in a teasing voice.

"No," Kara replied. "It's just that . . ."

"It's just nothing," Amy interjected. "Now shut up and listen." She paused then, eying Kara to see if she'd object. When she didn't, she continued the story.

"As soon as I finished my food Derek pulled a small plastic case from his backpack and set it on the table in front of me.

"'Take out the egg and put it in there,' he ordered. I obeyed without comment, pulling up my skirt, slipping the egg gingerly from my pussy, placing it in the case and closing the lid. Then, while I was straightening my skirt, Derek took the case and put it in his backpack.

"'I'm sure we'll be needing this again,' he said with a wry, smile.

"It was at that point that the waitress returned. 'Can I get you two anything else,' she asked, looking briefly at me before turning her attention to Derek.

"'No, we're fine,' he replied. 'Just the check, please.'

"The waitress smiled at Derek, shaking her head slowly. 'This one's on me, honey,' she said, giving Derek a small wink. And then, as she was sliding a small card onto the table in front of him, she added, 'here's my number, in case you're ever lonely.' And with that she turned and walked away.

"Derek watched her walk away for a second before turning back to me and holding out his right hand. 'I'll take the car keys, Mrs. Marshall. And don't forget to leave our waitress a good tip. I kinda liked her.'

"'Yes, sir,' I replied meekly. And then I thought of something. 'Sir, what about Warren?'

"Derek sniggered slightly. 'Nice of you to think about him. After all, he was your date tonight.'

"I found myself blushing sorry at his dig, but he ignored my brief discomfort and moved on quickly.

"'I don't think you'll be hearing him anymore. Something about an anonymous e-mail; or so I've been told.' And that was all I ever got out of him on the subject.

"We got up to leave then, with me staying as close behind him as I could, not even daring to breath until we were safely out the front door.

"It was nearly dark by the time we finally made it outside. Derek took my hand and led me back to the car -- which as I said earlier was in the overflow parking lot behind the dumpster enclosure -- and led me to the passenger door. But when we got to the car, instead of opening the door for me, he spun me around and pressed my back against the car. Then he reached out and began unbuttoning my blouse."

"Right there?" Kara gasped. "In the parking lot?"

Amy nodded her head. "Yeah, right there. I admit, my first reaction was panic. I reached up, put my hands on his and was about to tell him to stop when I saw the look in his eyes, a look that said in no uncertain terms to either release his hands or face the consequences. I tell you, Kara, I was more than a bit panicked at the prospect of being exposed in a public parking lot, but I was also very much aroused by the events of the previous half-hour. I guess you already figured that it was the lust part that won out, as I drew my eyes away from his and quickly surveyed what little of the parking lot I could see. Not a sole or a car could be seen from where we stood, so I took a deep breath, dropped my hands to my sides and watched as he began unbuttoning the buttons, his hands moving slowly down my chest, one button at a time until they all were freed. Then he slid his hands onto my breasts and began caressing and squeezing my excited orbs.

"He continued massaging me for the better part of a minute, the grin on his face growing as he watched me slither against the side of the car as he worked my breasts. Finally, he spoke.

"'See how easy it is when you don't fight the inevitable, Mrs. Marshall?'

"I looked into his eyes, but before I could answer, he slid his hands to the top of my shoulders and pushed me to my knees. 'But now it's my turn.'"

"Did he . . ." Kara started to ask before stopping in mid-sentence, unable to bring herself to finish the question as memories of her own encounter with Derek flooded her mind.

"Yes, he did," Amy responded, knowing the question even though her friend had been unable to put it into words. And then she continued, describing in detail how the young man assaulted her mouth, just as he had Kara's.

"Once I was squatting before him he released me and moved his hands to his pants. He unhooked the belt, undid the button and lowered the zipper. Then he pushed the pants and underwear down to his knees, freeing a very excited and very hard cock.

"I let out a hungry sigh as my eyes feasted upon his manhood. But when I reached out to touch it, he pushed my hands away, instead grabbing a handful of my hair with his left hand while his right hand took hold of his cock. He held me firmly, my back pressed up against the side of the car. And then he stepped closer, bringing his engorged meat to my lips before moving his right hand to my head and slamming his meat into my mouth like it was his own permisteral pleasure device.

"Kara, I know a lot of women don't like sucking cock, but I love it. For me, there's no more powerful feeling than holding a man's cock or balls in you hands, or sliding your mouth up and down his meat while he squirms helplessly. But this was different. For the first time ever, I not only wasn't in control, I was totally helpless, my body pressed up against my car while this kid pummeled my mouth, slamming his meat into me over and over while all I could do was cling desperately to his hips.

"When he came, he spewed more seed into my mouth than I could swallow, the excess slipping out the sides of my mouth and dribbling onto my chest, even as he continued pumping my mouth. When he finally finished, he eased himself from my mouth and backed away. As he pulled his pants upward and fastened his belt, I felt myself slip down the side of the car, my ass landing on the pavement with my legs spread wide, my skirt hiked up to my waist and my blouse hanging open.

"He stood over me for several seconds -- admiring his handiwork, I suppose -- before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. He leaned over, wiped the cum from my face and chest, and backed away.

"'Get in the car,' he said softly. 'We're leaving.'

"While he walked around the car, I struggled to my feet and slid into the car, and to be perfectly honest with you, that's the last thing I remember until he turned into my driveway."

Kara closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she drifted back to her own encounter with Derek and the face fucking he'd given her. What struck her most was not how eerily similar her face fucking was to Amy's, but how each woman had surrendered to her own lust in a nearly identical manner, allowing the young man total dominion over them. She allowed a small smile to creep across her face as she took another deep breath and opened her eyes, only to find Amy staring intently at her.

"It was like that for you, wasn't it?" Amy asked.

Kara nodded her head weakly. "Yes," she whispered.

"I thought so," Amy commented, "but since I was blind-folded I couldn't tell for certain."

Another long pause followed before Amy finally spoke. "Maybe I will have another glass of wine."

"Yeah," Kara said as she rose to her feet. "Me, too."

A couple of minutes passed while Kara opened a new bottle of Chardonnay and filled their glasses. After she returned to the table the two women each took a sip. Then Amy continued her story.

"He pulled into the garage, turned off the car and pressed the button to close the garage door. Leaving the keys in the ignition, he turned towards me and gave me a look that clearly said 'don't move.' Then he turned around and exited the car, moving towards the kitchen door to turn on the overhead light switch. Finally, he moved to the front of the car, looked me in the eyes and nodded his head.

"I took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to quiet the pounding in my chest, before finally finding the strength to open the door and slip out of the car. When I reached my feet and turned to face him, I noticed my blouse was pulled open so my left breast uncovered, but I made no move to cover it as I moved around the front fender of the car and took my position in front of him.

"For a moment he just stood there, looking at me. Then he placed his finger under my chin and lifted it upwards. 'Tell me, Mrs. Marshall,' he said. 'Who am I?'

"I had no doubt at all what the correct response was; I knew it as well as he did. After all, wasn't I standing in front of him with my blouse unbuttoned and my left tit hanging out? And hadn't he face-fucked me in a public parking lot just a few minutes previous? And what about the multiple orgasms he'd brought me to in the middle of the restaurant? Oh no, there was no longer the slightest doubt in my mind as to just who this young man was.

"'You are my Master,' I replied simply.

"He nodded his head, the slightest trace of a smile at the corner of his lips. Then he eased his hands to my shoulders, slid the blouse off my shoulders and down my arms, kicking it aside when it reached the floor.

"Next, he took hold of my hips and pulled me closer, releasing me when I was nearly touching him. He slid his hands around my back and deftly released the button at the back of my skirt. Then he lowered the zipper and pushed the skirt over my hips and down to the floor.

"'And who are you?' he challenged.

"Again I had no doubt as to the answer; I was his slut-toy, and that's what I told him."

"'Very good,' he said. Then he lowered his eyes to the skirt that lay in a disheveled mess around my feet.

"'Kick it aside,' he said, watching with satisfaction as I obeyed without hesitation, stepping out of the garment and kicking it across the garage floor. And then he backed away a step and looked me over, taking his time as he examined my body, now naked but for my high-heel shoes and a pair of dirty and torn thigh-high nylons.

"'Sit down,' he said, nodding towards the hood of the car.

My heart jumped at his words, for I had no doubt where they were leading. I turned briefly towards the hood, repositioned my body appropriately and sat down.

"'Lay back,' he ordered, 'and spread your legs.'

"Again I quickly complied, spreading my legs wide enough to completely expose myself. He nodded his head. 'Very nice, Mrs. Marshall. Very nice, indeed.' And then he began removing his clothes, starting with the shirt, then kicking off his shoes and pulling off the socks, undoing his belt, releasing the snap on his pants and lowering the zipper. Finally he pushed his pants and underwear to the floor and stepped out of them.

"I tell you, Kara, I gasped out loud when he stood up before me in all his glory. I mean, this young man was easily the finest hunk of manhood I'd ever seen; but then you already know that, don't you?" Amy said teasingly. And when Kara blushed and turned away, Amy smiled, giggled just a bit and went on with her story.

"He moved towards me slowly, stopping when he reached the car directly between my legs. Then he took my right hand in his left, spread it out to the side and pinned it against the hood, before taking his cock in his right hand and guiding it towards my pussy. I jumped when he brushed his weapon across my puffy lips, then I moaned wantonly when he pulled it away. He repeated this tease several times, each time pushing me closer and closer to losing control until, finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"'Please don't tease me,' I moaned wantonly.

"But my pleading was met by a sly smile as he leaned closer and began tapping his meat lightly against my clit.

"'Oh, cuckolds brownie,' I gasped, my body jerking sorry in response to his mini attack. And then I looked into his eyes and began to beg.

"'Please, please fuck me now. I need it so baaaaaaadddddd!'

"With no further hesitation, he slammed his meat into me, released his cock and grabbed my left hand, pinning it against the hood so he was effectively holding me primisterer beneath him. But I didn't care. I reached up with my legs, wrapped them around his waist and pulled him in even deeper.

"He began pumping his cock in and out of my pussy, over and over, and with such power that I nearly fainted as my body quickly went into orgasmic shock.

"But he ignored my orgasm and kept right on going, pounding his meat into me as I continued to cry out. And he kept up the pressure until I finally felt his body go rigid, mere seconds before he began unloading his sperm inside me. And still I gripped his waist with my legs, pulling him into me with all my strength.

"When he finally stopped pumping I lowered my legs and collapsed onto the hood, panting heavily, trying to regain my sanity.

"It took several moments for the fog in my head to clear, and when it did, there was Derek, standing above me with a cuckolds brownie-eating grin on his face and a cock that was covered with my juices -- and just as hard as it ever was.

"I tell you, Kara, I don't ever remember being as sated as I was then. I mean after the restaurant, the parking lot, and now the garage -- not to mention more orgasms than I could count -- I truly didn't think I could take anymore. So I looked up at my conqueror and shook my head weakly.

"'No more,' I pleaded. But he just shook his head and kept on grinning.

"'Mrs. Marshall,' he said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. 'At the present time, I own your mouth and I own your pussy. And in another few minutes I intend to own your ass. Now, you're going to stand up, turn around, lean over the hood and assume the position. Then I'm going to fuck your ass 'til you can't stand up.' He hesitated just a moment. 'Now, is there anything about that that you don't understand?'

"I shook my head weakly, both my pussy and ass tingling at his words in spite of my state. 'No,' I managed to whisper.

"We both held our positions then; him standing there, looking down on me like a conqueror looks down on his vanquished victim, and me still splayed out atop the hood, staring up at my Master in utter presentation. But the moment was short lived.

"'NOW!' he barked suddenly, startling me into motion.

"Kara, I wouldn't have believed I could move so fast. I mean one minute I was on my back, spread out atop the hood and the next I was in the proscribed position, bent over with my ass sticking out before him, knees shaking and heart pounding in my chest.

"He let me stay in that position for several moments, neither speaking nor making a move towards me. Finally, he reached out and brushed his hand lightly across my fanny.

"'I must say, Mrs. Marshall,' he said, lifting his other hand to caress my other butt-cheek. 'You are proving to be a most acceptable slut-toy. Most acceptable indeed.'

"I shivered at his words, surprisingly pleased at the compliment. Then I shivered some more when he slid his fingers between my butt-cheeks, over my asshole and onto my pussy.

"He allowed his hand to linger there only a moment before withdrawing it. The next thing I knew that same hand was holding my hip firmly while his other hand guided his cock to my nether hole.

"'Oh, my God,' I whispered as he pressed his meat against me, pressing just hard enough for the head to peek inside my dark tunnel before he withdrew it. Then, an instant later, it was back, only this time it pressed harder against my rear entrance, the head actually slipping inside me before stopping. And this time he didn't withdraw, instead holding his position just inside me as I clenched my teeth, the sweat overtaking my body inspite of the chill that was running down my spine. He started easing himself further into me, then withdrawing slightly, repeating the process again and again, with each new incursion sinking him deeper and deeper until suddenly he lunged forward, ramming his meat all the home as my body went rigid and a loud gasp escaped my lips. And then he bent over me, latched on to my breasts and began pounding his rock-hard boner into my ass.

"I know I screamed out -- in pleasure or pain, I'm not sure -- maybe both. I slid my hand underneath me, working my clit desperately as he went at me like an enraged natural. I came hard then, but still he came on, not letting up until I came yet again, this time with my legs giving out as I collapsed onto the hood of the car.

"He released my tits as I crumred onto the hood, took a firm hold on my hips and began spewing his seed into my dirty hole while I lay beneath him, totally spent and barely conscious.

"Finally, after the last of his sperm was finally spent, he leaned forward, grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head up from the hood.

"'Now you officially belong to me, Mrs. Marshall; mouth, cunt and asshole,' he said in soft yet possessive voice.

"And that's the last thing I remember until I woke up in the middle of the night, still spread face down across the hood, with Derek nowhere in sight."

Amy paused then and reached for her wine, holding up her hand when Kara started to speak.

"I'm almost done." She lifted the glass to her lips, took a sip, set the glass down and started again.

"I took a brief moment to clear my head, then pushed myself slowly to my feet. The first thing I did was look at the clock hanging in the middle of the back wall. I was surprised to see it reading 2:00 AM. I briefly tried to replay the evenings timeline in my head to determine how long I'd been out, but quickly lost interest. I'd been out several hours at least, and that was all the answer I was capable of dealing with at the moment.

"I looked around the garage and saw my skirt lying in a spot of grease on the other side of the garage and my blouse scrunched up against the base of the work bench. My shoes, which I didn't remember taking off, were lying just beside the driver's side front tire.

"But I ignored them all, turning instead for the door into the kitchen.

"I entered the house and, without turning on any lights, made my way directly to the front staircase, then up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom. I didn't turn on a light until I entered the master bathroom, and then I nearly fetishd when I saw the sight that greeted me in the mirror.

"I tell you, Kara, I looked like nothing you've ever seen. My hair was a tangled mess, laced with dirt and even a small leaf. My nylons were mostly holes and runs that had somehow managed to stay attached to my legs, while the rest of my body seemed to be various shades of dirt streaked with dried sweat.

"I stared at myself in stunned disbelief for a moment, eventually managing a light chuckle. Then I turned off the light and left the room, not even caring how I looked as I pulled the bedspread and blanket off the bed, collapsed on top of the sheet and fell instantly to relax."

The two women sat there, staring into each others eyes for several moments before Kara shook her head and turned away.

"I don't know what to say," she said.

Amy reached into her purse and pulled out a card, sliding it in front of Kara. "Don't say anything," Amy replied. "Just call him. He's in town for two more weeks, then he's off to college."

"Call him?" Kara gasped. "But I can't . . ."

"Darn it, Kara, listen to me. You've experienced something most women don't even have the nerve to fantasize about; something that rocked your world; something you may never get the opportunity to experience again." She paused then, leaning closer to her friend. "Call him, Kara, If you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Kara stared at the card, then lifted her head to face her friend. "Does he still think the only reamister you're his slut-toy is because he's black-mailing you?"

Amy shook her head. "He's a lot of things, Kara, but he's not stupid. He figured that something wasn't right almost immediately. How did he put it? Oh, yeah. He said I was too far over the edge to be faking it."

Amy paused a moment, looking intently into her friend's eyes. "So, will you call him?

"I'll think about it," Kara replied, her voice cracking just a bit. "I promise." Amy reached across and squeezed her friend's hand. "Okay." Then she stood up, grabbed her purse and started for the front door, as Kara rose to her feet and followed.

When she reached the door, she hesitated, then turned slowly to face her friend. Then she took Kara's face between her hands, leaned forward and kissed her squarely on the lips.

"What was that?' Kara reacted, instinctively withdrawing a half step.

But Amy just smiled, giggling lightly. "What, you lick my pussy and I can't even give you a little kiss on the lips?"

And before the befuddled, red-faced Kara could respond, Amy was out the door and three steps down the walk.

It was a few minutes before 1:00 PM Wednesday and Amy Marshall was stepping up to her front door, having just finished her daily walk. She reached into her pocket, withdrew the front door key and slipped it into the lock. Then, just as she was turning the key to open the door, she heard the phone ring.

Hurrying inside, she kicked the door closed and moved quickly down the hall. When she reached the phone she saw the number on the caller ID display and stopped. It was Derek, the young neighbor boy she now called Master. And a quick shiver shot through her body, just like it always did when she thought of him.

"Yes, sir," she said as she brought the phone to her ear.

"Your husband is out of town, is he not?"

"Yes. He won't be back until Friday evening."

"Good," came the reply. "I'll pick you up at 7:30 tonight. I strongly advise you to be ready when I get there. Now, as far as clothing, you are to wear the grey and black pleated skirt you wore the first time I took you and the same high-heels. For a top, you're to wear a snug-fitting halter or tank-top. You will also wear a pair of sexy lace panties and thigh-high nylons, but no bra."

He paused briefly before finishing. "And one more thing, Mrs. Marshall. I want you good and wired this evening, so no masturbating.' And then the line went dead.

She hung up the phone knowing from the tone of his voice that he was up to something. And another shiver shot through her pussy as she looked at the clock and realized just how far away 7:30 was.

* * *

It turned out to be a long, frustrating day for Amy, a day largely spent trying not to think about Derek and all the deliciously degrading things he was going to do to her that evening. But the reality was that she did think of him and she did fantasize about what was in store for her. And every time she did, another spasm shot through her already aching pussy, which in turn triggered more fantasizes, which in turn . . .

Not wishing to risk Derek's anger, Amy headed to her bedroom to dress early, taking extra time to make sure everything was just right. At one point she stood before the mirror completely naked, staring at her body, imagining how he was going to use it. She even closed her eyes and let her hands drift up her stomach and onto her breasts before catching herself.

She was completely dressed and sitting by the living room picture window by 7:15, once again wondering what the young man had in store for her. Something humiliating and degrading for certain, and based on the outfit he chosen for her, something with an exhibitionist twist appeared a strong possibility. And the more she sat there wondering, the wilder and crazier her fantasies became, and the hotter and wetter her pussy grew.

It was 7:40 when Derek finally pulled into the driveway and gave the horn a single short honk, a honk which proved unnecessary as Amy was already halfway out the front door and hurrying towards the car.

"Good evening, sir," she said as she slid into the passenger seat

Derek didn't immediately answer. Instead, he reached between her legs like it was the most normal thing in the world for an 18 year-old boy to do to a 36 year-old married woman, and slid his hand up to her pussy. And when she jumped and gasped at his touch, he smiled.

"It seems you've been good," he said, noting how her pussy was warm and wet.

"Yes, sir," Amy answered meekly, squirming under his touch. But an instant later the hand was gone and the car was easing down the driveway.

* * *

It was not quite 7:55 when Derek pulled up in front of VanderVeen's, a high-end woman's boutique that featured, among other things, an extensive line of womens shoes. Since the store closed at 8:00, the parking lot was already deserted.

"This is your stop, Mrs. Marshall," Derek said as he put the car in park.

Amy looked at the store, then back at the young driver, "VanderVeen's?" she questioned. But the only answer she got was a simple nod of the head.

Then she noticed that he hadn't turned off the ignition. "Aren't you coming in?" Again, a simple shake of his head -- no -- was the only response she got.

"I don't understand," she said in a soft voice.

"Come now, Mrs. Marshall. You're an intelligent woman, I'm sure you can figure it out."

In truth, she had figured it out. Tonight, it seemed, she was meant for someone else. The only real question was for who?

Now I'm sure you understand, it wasn't that she was opposed to being someone else's slut-toy -- and knowing the type of man Derek was likely to provide, that's exactly what she'd be -- she just wasn't quite certain she was willing to surrender herself to some unnamed, unidentified permister. Lord knows she was no little Miss Innocent, but wasn't this going just a little too far?

She took a deep breath to settle her nerves, then tried examining the situation from a different perspective. This was Derek's doing. Derek, the young man she now called Master. And despite the fact that he'd initially set out to black-mail her, he'd since proven to be a fair, albeit stern, master. Further, that first day not withstanding, he'd done nothing to betray her trust. Did she really think he was going to start now?

She looked back towards the store, bit down on her lower lip and took a deep breath. 'In for a penny, in for a pound,' she thought. Then she nodded her head and, without another look towards Derek, opened the door and slid out.

She'd barely stepped away from the car when she heard Derek shift it into gear and pull away, yet she somehow managed to control her emotions enough to keep moving towards the store. Even so, once she actually reached the door, she came to a stop, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay," she muttered as her eyes fluttered open, "Here goes nothing."

She pulled the door open slowly and slipped inside. Before the door even had a chance to fully close behind her, the young girl behind the counter spotted her.

"I'm afraid we'll be closing in a minute," she said as she slipped out from behind the counter, clearly a bit put off by the heels and short skirt Amy was wearing, not to mention the erect nipples that were clearly outlined beneath her top.

Amy hesitated, not quite certain what to say. She couldn't just announce that she was there to be sexually dominated by someone, but she didn't know who. Besides, could she really be certain she wasn't there for the pleasure of the very girl that stood before her? After all, Derek really hadn't been very forthcoming with specifics

But she never finished the thought as a voice called out from behind her. "Is that you, Mrs. Marshall?"

Amy jerked around quickly, a little bit surprised and a whole lot relieved to see Stuart Chambers, the 19 year-old mister of Pamela Chambers -- a woman she'd met through Kara and had known for seven years -- standing there. But her relief at seeing a familiar face was short lived as reality began to sink in. 'Oh, my,' she said to herself. 'Not Stuart.'

Despite her surprise, she managed to gather herself quickly. "Stuart," she said, giving her best imitation of a smile. "I didn't know you worked here."

"It helps provide some spending money," he said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. And then a smile slid across his lips. "Plus, you get to meet some pretty hot older women. Know what I mean, Mrs. Marshall," he said with a slight wink.

Amy could feel herself blush. "I . . . ummm, wouldn't know," was the best answer she could come up with.

Thankfully, before she had to come up with anything else clever and engaging, Stuart turned his attention to the young lady who'd first approached her.

"Why don't you go on home, Susan. I'll stick around awhile and help Mrs. Marshall out."

Susan looked at Amy dubiously, then turned back to Stuart. "I don't mind staying," she replied, not at all sure it was a good idea to leave Stuart alone with this . . . woman.

But Stuart shook his head. "No, really. Mrs. Marshall's a family friend. And besides, there's no point in both of us staying late."

Susan shot Amy one more look, then turned back to Stuart. "Well, if you're sure."

"Absolutely. I'll lock the door behind you," he smiled, pulling the keys from his pocket.

"Okay. Just let me get my purse." Less than a minute later Derek was holding the door for Susan. Thirty seconds after that the door was closed and locked, with the shade drawn to cut off the outside world. Then Stuart turned his attention back to his customer.

"I must say, Mrs. Marshall, that sure is an interesting outfit," he started, taking a brief moment to look her over. "Special occasion?"

Amy felt herself blushing again, somehow both aroused and ashamed by his observation. "I guess you could say that," she managed, barely.

"I particularly like the shoes. Classy, yet a little bit slutty. Very nice," Stuart continued, glancing down at her high-heels before raising his eyes slowly to hers. "You know, we've got a pretty interesting selection of high-heels ourselves. Perhaps you'd like me to show you some?"

Amy hesitated just long enough to swallow the lump in her throat before responding. "Sure." And she could feel her stomach churning as a picture of her lying stark naked on a giant pile of high-heel shoes with Stuart standing over her flashed through her mind.

"Great. They're right over here," Stuart smiled. Then he turned slightly and eased his hand around her back and onto her buttocks.

Amy couldn't believe the shock waves that shot through her body as the young man's hand pressed against her ass and began easing her down a nearby aisle, nor could she believe the difficulty she was having putting one foot in front of the other without falling over. Still, she managed to keep herself upright and moving forward until he turned her down a side aisle near the back of the store.

"Okay, Mrs. Marshall," he said as he guided her to the end of the aisle and removed his hand from her ass. "Let's measure those feet of yours." And with that he dropped to his right knee and slid his left hand behind her left calf. "If you'll lift your foot a minute . . ."

Amy looked down at the young man below her as if in a dream. She was only vaguely aware of grabbing a nearby shelf for balance as she lifted her foot obediently and watched him slip off the shoe. She didn't even hear him tell her to lift the other foot, but he must have, because there she was, lifting it off the ground and holding it out for him.

"Okay," he said as he reached under a nearby chair and pulled out the foot measuring device. "Now let's see what size these little darlings are." And he proceeded to ease her foot into the device and make a couple of adjustments before proclaiming her 'a perfect seven.'

"Now, if you'll just have a seat right over there, Mrs. Marshall," he said, pointing to the padded bench that occupied the middle of the aisle, "I've got a couple pairs in the back that are just made for you." And with that he rose to his feet and started for the back of the store.

At first Amy stood there as if in a trance, watching him make his way to the stockroom entrance. When he finally disappeared through the door she managed to shake her head and take a deep, cleansing breath . Then she let go of the shelf she hadn't even realized she was still clutching and turned to make her way to the bench Stuart had indicated. Finally, she lowered herself onto the padded cushion that topped the bench and leaned forward to cradle her head in her hands.

"Oh, my God," she muttered. Then she lifted her head and turned to look into the mirror on the fall wall. "I hope you know what you're doing," she told her reflection. Yet even as she spoke those words, she realized it didn't matter. The simple fact was that she was so horny nothing -- absolutely nothing -- was going to keep her from giving herself to her friend's mister. And she shook her head once again before lowering it back to her hands.

A few more seconds passed before Stuart emerged from the stockroom with two shoe boxes in hand. "I really think you're going to like these," he said as he set them down on the bench next to her. Then he slid his stool in front of her, sat down and tapped the slanted foot rest that extended in front of the stool. "If you'll just put your foot up here, Mrs. Marshall."

As Stuart leaned forward and grabbed the top shoe box, Amy lifted her foot as instructed, only then noticing that the hem of her skirt had risen up nearly to the top of her nylons. But despite the totally inappropriate amount of thigh now on display, she made no move to adjust the skirt, having not doubt that soon, very soon, a lot more than her thigh would be on display for the young man.

In the meantime, Stuart was pulling a black five-inch pump with an open toe and a single ankle-strap from the box. "These are the same height as yours, but have ankle straps and a thinner heel. I think they have more of a 'look at me' quality to them, which I like." Then he slid his hand behind Amy's ankle, lifted her foot from the foot rest and slid the shoe on, before setting the foot down, bringing the straps around her ankle and fastening them together.

"Okay, other foot," he said when he finished. And as Amy moved to comply, she couldn't help noticing that her skirt had slid up a bit more, now showing not only the tops of her nylons, but a bit of bare thigh as well. And although she knew her panties would also be on clear display, she still made no move to cover herself. She did, however, let a soft sigh escape her lips as a small spasm shot through her pussy. And she couldn't help but wonder just how long Stuart was going to continue with his little charade.

Stuart had the other shoe on and fastened in a few seconds, then he rose to his feet and held out his hand. "Okay, let's see what we've got," he said, a warm smile covering his face as took her hand and helped her to her feet.

"Try walking in them," he suggested after she'd reached her feet, gesturing towards the center aisle with his hand.

"Okay," Amy replied. And as she made her way down the aisle and back, she couldn't help wondering why, despite everything she'd been through with Derek, she still felt more like an eighth grader on her first date then the composed, ready for anything 36 year-old woman she used to be.

"Well, what do you think?" Stuart asked as she made her return trip down the aisle, turning and coming to a stop so her right side was towards the mirror.

"I like them," Amy replied.

Stuart smiled. "Great." And while Amy was checking out the shoes in the mirror, he moved to her left side and dropped to one knee, then reached out with his right hand and slid it slowly over the back of her calf. And when she jumped noticeably at his touch, a tiny smirk slid across his lips.

"You know, it's always amazed me what a nice pair of high heels can do for a woman's legs," he said in a soft, seductive voice as he slowly slid his hand up and down her calf. "They not only can make a pair of average legs look good, they can take a pair of great legs -- like yours, Mrs. Marshall -- and make them look absolutely incredible.

"And it's not just the calves that benefit. Consider what it does for the thighs." He paused briefly and looked up at her. "Here, I'll show you."

And before Amy could fully comprehend what was happening, he pulled his hand from her calf, eased around behind her and slipped the button on the back of her skirt through the hole that held it captive. Then he took hold of the zipper, eased it down and allowed the short, pleated skirt to slip over her hips and down her legs. He paused then, taking a brief moment to examine both the lacy white panties that were now on display and the several inches of bare flesh that were visible immediately above and below them. And then he again reached for her thighs.

Amy felt her body going numb as the skirt slid down her legs and landed in a small pile around her feet. She bit down on her lower lip and closed her eyes when the young man's hands eased onto the nylons that covered her thighs. Then, when he spoke again, she had to power herself to focus on his words, instead of on the hands that were gently massaging her thighs.

"See, how it adds extra tone to your thigh muscles? And how it makes the legs look like they go on forever?" he queried, easing his hands slowly up her legs as he spoke.

"Yes," Amy managed to reply, struggling to get the words out without allowing her growing desperation to show anymore than it already was.

"I thought you would," Stuart smiled. He then gave her thighs an extra squeeze, released them and rose to his feet, moving his hand to her panti-covered ass and easing her back towards the seat.

"The other pair is one of my favorites," he said as if it were perfectly normal to be discussing shoes with a partially dressed woman nearly twice his age. "The only thing is, they really work best without nylons. So, if you'll just put your foot up here," he said, tapping the foot rest before him, "I'll slide these off for you."

Now totally trapped in the young man's snare and very much aware of the growing damp spot that was undoubtedly visible on her panties, Amy found herself unable to answer. Still, she managed to lift her foot onto the foot rest as instructed, shaking just a bit when he slid off the shoe.. But when his hands slipped inside the top of her nylon and began easing it down her leg, she again had to close her eyes and bite down on her lower lip. 'Take me!' she wanted to scream. 'Please, take me.'

But he didn't take her. Instead, he stayed with the task at hand, ever so slowly working the stocking down her thigh, then over her knee and down her calf. "Lift your foot," he said when he finally reached her ankle. Then, after slipping the first nylon off, he tossed it aside and repeated the whole process on her other leg.

"Now," he said after both her legs had been stripped, "I think you're really going to like these." And with that he proceeded to extract a pair of the most amazing looking white shoes she'd ever seen. They were nearly completely open, only a series of dainty straps straddling the front to hold the foot on, with ankle straps that were meant to wrap two or three times around the ankles before joining in the back of the lower leg, with the whole thing resting on stiletto heels a full six-inches high.

"Oh, my," Amy said, finally finding her voice. "They're so . . . so . . ."

"Slutty?" Stuart offered.

Amy shifted her gaze from the shoes to Stuart's eyes. "Yes."

"Well?" he questioned. "Do you like them?"

There was a moment's hesitation as Amy's eyes darted between Stuart's eyes and the shoes before finally settling on the young man. "Yes," she replied in a near whisper. "I do." Then, after Stuart set the right shoe back in the shoebox, she lifted her left foot into the air and watched in silence as he slid the shoe onto her foot, wrapped the straps around her ankle and fastened them behind her lower leg. Then she moved the foot to the floor and lifted her right foot.

When both shoes were on and fastened, Stuart rose to his feet and extended his hand. "Okay, take a little walk and see how they feel."

Amy took hold of his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet, releasing it when she reached her full height. For a brief second she held her position and looked into his eyes, then she turned and started slowly down the aisle. When she reached the center aisle, she paused, turned, and started back, holding her eyes on his all the way, not stopping until she was once again standing in front of the full length mirror. This time, however, she was facing it straight on. And in spite of her concerted effort not to, she flinched when Stuart stepped up behind her and slid his hands onto her hips.

"Interestingly," he whispered into her ear, "it's not just the legs that benefit from high heels. Take the rear end, for example."

The sound that came from Amy's throat as Stuart dropped to his knees behind her, slid his hands onto her panti-covered buttocks and squeezed was somewhere between a gasp and a moan. And when his fingers slid inside the waist-band and began easing the delicate item down her legs, she closed her eyes and shivered, goosebumps breaking out across her body. And when the panties finally reached the floor, she lifted her feet one at a time and stepped out of the no longer wanted undergarment, leaving her in nothing but the white halter top and the six-inch heels that adorned her feet.

"When perched upon a sexy pair of high-heel shoes, a woman's rear end is one of my favorite things on earth," Stuart said as he rose to his feet and stepped to her side. "The heels tend to highlight the buttock's natural muscle tone without stealing any of its softness," he continued. Then he rubbed his right hand across her naked cheeks, gave them a gentle squeeze and a light little slap. Then he withdrew the hand and slipped back behind her.

"But the benefits of high-heels aren't just limited to the lower body," he said, continuing his explanation.

"Besides the calves, thighs and buttocks, consider the breasts." And with that he reached around her and grabbed the bottom her halter, pulling it up and over her head, then down behind her back until it was stretched between her biceps, effectively pinning her arms to her sides.

Amy nearly fainted as the adrenaline rush hit home. She took a moment to gather herself and look at her reflection in the mirror, now naked but for the shoes and the halter stretched behind her back. Then she turned her gaze to Stuart's reflection.

"You see," Stuart continued, seemingly unconcerned with her nakedness. "When wearing heels, a woman tends to stand taller and maintain better posture, which in turns tends to lift and separate her breasts."

Amy then watched his hands as they eased over her breasts and squeezed lightly, then she groaned when his fingers moved to her erect nipples and pinched them, then twirled them gently. And when he pulled her against his chest and mauled her boobs, she closed her eyes in surrender

"Oh, my God," she gasped as her body melded with his. Then she reached back with her hands and grabbed hold of his pant legs. "Please don't stop," she whispered.

"Oh, but Mrs. Marshall," Stuart responded, his hands sliding off her breasts and onto her biceps. "I still have another pair for you to try. And I've saved the best for last."

There was desperation in Amy's eyes as she looked into the reflection of Stuart's eyes. "Please," she whined.

But Stuart ignored her, instead turning her so she was facing him, before slipping his thumbs inside the halter that covered her arms. "You won't be needing this anymore, Mrs. Marshall," he said. But before he removed the top he leaned forward menacingly. "Or would you prefer I just call you slut-toy?"

There was lust in her eyes as she looked at him. "I'll answer to anything you call me," she said softly, a cracking in her voice. "Anything at all." And then, after a significant pause, she added a single word. "Master."

Outwardly Stuart ignored Mrs. Marshall's newly verbalized subservience, focusing instead on sliding the halter-top down her arms and dropping it to the floor. Inside, however, he was smiling smugly. After all, Amy Marshall, his 36 year-old neighbor -- a married women, no less -- had responded exactly the way Derek and he had anticipated, accepting him as Master without so much as a whimper of protest as he toyed with her, peeling her clothes off one piece at a time in agonizing slowness.

With the halter now in a pile on the floor, Stuart took hold of his slut-toy's arms, guided her carefully back to the bench and gently pushed downward. Then, when she was finally seated, he lowered himself to his stool before her.

"I'll just slip these off," he said as he unfastened the straps from the slutty white high-heels and slid them from her feet. Then he reached over, pulled a large box from a nearby shelf and deposited it on the floor by her feet. Finally, he opened the box and pulled out a pair of thigh-high black patent leather boots with seven-inch spike heels, which he proceeded to hold up for Amy's review.

Dumb-struck, Amy stared at what she and her friends had always referred to as 'stripper' or 'fuck-me' boots, then she slowly raised her eyes to his. "Please, sir," she whispered wantonly, "May I . . ."

"But of course, Mrs. Marshall," he said with a mischievous smile. And with that he tossed the left boot back into the box, lowered the zipper on the right and spread it open. "If you'll just hold your right leg up . . ."

As soon as Amy lifted her leg, Stuart eased the boot over her foot, then slid it up her leg, over her knee and onto her thigh. He slid his left hand under her calf and eased the zipper up with his right, then lowered the leg to the floor on his left side.

"Other leg," he ordered as he pulled the left boot from the box.

Amy tore her eyes away from the shiny black boot that covered nearly the entire length of her right leg and turned to look at the young man. Then, without a word, she lifted her left leg as instructed. And less than a minute later that boot was on and her left leg was extended on Stuart's other side.

For several moments Amy's eyes were glued to those shiny boots, even as Stuart's were glued to the fully exposed pussy before him and the lust-crazed woman it was attached to.

"Stand up," Stuart finally said, rising to his feet and pushing the stool back with his leg.. "Let's see if you can walk in them."

Amy managed to tear her eyes away from the boots and look up her young master. Then, with an almost imperceptible nod of the head, she pulled her feet in, took hold of his hand and rose to her feet. Then she turned and made her way slowly towards the center aisle, making sure there was an ample amount of wiggle in her walk, all while feeling a level of excitement in her pussy that rivaled her first time with Derek.

When she reached the center aisle she paused, then turned slowly and started back, not allowing her eyes to leave the growing bulge in the young man's pants until she came to a stop two feet in front of him. Then she slowly raised her eyes to his.

"Can I keep them, Master?"

Stuart allowed a small smile to cross his lips as he reached out, slid both hands around her hips and grabbed hold of her ass cheeks, even as she was wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling her center hard against his.

"Ah, but you haven't earned them yet, Mrs. Marshall. We'll have to see how the rest of the evening goes," he replied smugly. Then he released her and dropped his arms to his side. "But right now, it's time for you to undress me."

Even though Stuart had released her, Amy did not immediately release him. Instead she wiggled her body against his and smiled. "I'll just have to try extra hard to please you, then, won't I?" she purred. And with that she pulled her arms back and, while backing off no more than an inch or two, slid her hands between his chest and hers and slowly eased the top button through its hole.

She was able to free the top two buttons before her breasts got in the way, powering her to back off a few more inches. Then she continued freeing buttons until she reached the top of his trousers, whereupon she pulled the shirt-tails from his pants and slipped the final button through its hole. Then she reached for his right hand, lifted it up and freed the button on the cuff, before lowering it to his side and repeating the process on his left arm. Only then did she allow herself to reach for his shoulders, slide her hands under his collar and push the shirt down his arms and onto the floor.

She hesitated, taking a brief second to admire his well muscled physique. Then she eased her hands onto his stomach and slid them slowly up his chest, where she rolled his nipples between her fingertips, before leaning forward to swirl her tongue around first his right nipple, then his left.

Dropping to her knees before him, she lowered her eyes to his shoes, then she slid her hand behind his left ankle and lifted the foot from the ground, noting how he took hold of her head to support himself as she removed the loafer and tossed it aside, and how he then maintained his hold on her as she slid the sock off and moved to the other foot.

With both shoes and both socks removed, Amy raised her gaze slowly upward and met his eyes. Then, while maintaining that eye contact, she reached for his belt and unhooked it, and then reached for the button on the front of his pants to set it free. Finally, she eased the zipper down and slid the slacks over his hips. It wasn't until she felt him stepping out of the trousers that she finally allowed herself to lower her gaze to his underwear and the large bulge hidden within them.

With her heart pounding wildly in her chest, she reached out with her left hand and eased it under his still hidden jewel, squeezing it ever so softly. Then, as she eased her right hand out to join the left, she again raised her eyes to his. She couldn't help the wanton smile that crossed her lips as she eased her hands from his crotch to his hips, before leaning forward to take his underwear clad manhood into her open mouth.

She could hear herself moaning as she went after him with her mouth, pulling him against her as she alternately kissed and nibred her way around the still-wrapped prize. She lowered her buttocks to her ankles, which allowed her to lean forward, crane her neck and attack him from below, now taking on not only his meat, but his balls as well.

Now it was Stuart's turn to moan as she lowered her hands to his thighs, took his briefs between her teeth and began pulling them down with her mouth, starting first on his right side, then his left, alternating back and forth, one side to the other until, finally, the cock she'd been working so hard to please sprang into view. But despite her hunger, despite her desire, she ignored the now free manhood, concentrating instead on continuing to work his underwear down his thighs to his knees, and then over his knees and down to his calves. Then, after Stuart lifted first his right foot, then his left, from the unwanted cotton underpants, she lowered her hands to the floor and lifted her head upward, the unwanted underwear dangling from her mouth.

They stared at each other briefly, her looking for all the world like a puppy dog seeking its master's approval, him trying hard to repress the grin that was threatening to breakout from ear to ear as he looked down on her, his prick sticking out hard and proud before him. Then, after several seconds had past, Amy opened her mouth and allowed his briefs to fall to the floor between them. And then she spoke in a hungry, seductive voice.

"Is there anything else your slut-toy can do for you, Master?"

"As a matter of fact, there is," Stuart replied. "You may suck my cock."

Amy lowered her eyes to his manhood. "Yes, Master," she whispered softly, her voice cracking just a bit. "It will be my pleasure." And with that she slid her right hand to the head of his cock and lifted it until it neared his stomach, then she leaned forward and ran her tongue slowly up its length, starting at the base of his balls and not stopping until she'd bathed his entire length in her saliva. Then she slid her hand down to its base while she eased her wide-spread lips around its girth.

At first she stopped with the head only partly inside her mouth. Then she swirled her tongue around its tip and began sliding ever-so-slightly forward, then ever-so-slightly back. She closed her teeth so they were lightly touching him and repeated the ever-so-slightly forward, ever-so-slightly back motion, only this time allowing her left hand to fondle his balls while her mouth continued its slightly forward, slightly back motion.

She could sense the excitement building in the young man as his hand slid to the back of her head and pulled her forward in gentle encouragement. But she resisted his pressure, instead allowing her mouth to slide nearly completely off his meat while her right hand began stroking his length. And as a low groan escaped his throat, he slid his other hand to the back of her head, grabbed a handful of hair and began thrusting his manhood into her.

Surrendering to his hunger, Amy slid both hands to his buttocks and began sliding her mouth forward in concert with his attacks, She quickly lost all sense of time, aware only of her mouth sliding up and down the length of his meat, even as he was thrusting his manhood right back into her. She didn't even realize that she'd slid her right hand to her pussy and begun plunging her fingers into her horny wetness, instinctively matching each of his lunges with one of her own. But she was aware of just how close she was to cuming, and when she felt Stuart's body begin to tense, she unleashed her fingers with a frenzy, bringing herself to orgasm moments before her master exploded in her mouth.

For several moments he held her mouth over his cock, sliding it ever-so-slightly back and forth to drain the last of his cum into her. Then, with both hands still clutching her hair, he pulled her head off his meat and turned it upward.

"I don't recall giving you permission to cum, Mrs. Marshall," he said slowly

"I'm sorry, Master," Amy replied hastily. "I didn't realize . . ."

But Stuart just shook his head. "Ignorance is no excuse," he countered, releasing her hair. "Now, stand up." Once she was on her feet before him, he took hold of her biceps and spun her so her back was towards him, then he eased her towards the end of the bench she'd previously sat on.

"Spread your legs and bend over," he ordered, moving to her left side and placing his right hand on her bare ass, even as she was moving into the prescribed position. "This, Mrs. Marshall, is a small taste of what you can expect when you disappoint me." And with that he pulled his hand away from her ass, then sent it flying back.

WHACK!

"Ow!" Amy gasped, jumping instinctively even though she'd known the blow was coming. But despite the pain she quickly returned to her bent over position, resolving to show the young man that she was not only capable, but willing to take anything he could dish out. That's when the second blow landed on her other cheek.

Stuart couldn't hide the smile that crept across his lips as his slut-toy gasped and jumped, then returned quickly and without complaint to her prostrated position. And as his cock once again began to return to life, he couldn't help but revel in the power he held over her. That's when he decided to see just how far he could push her. That's when he leaned over, slid his hand under her tummy to her love button and began working his fingers lightly over her engorged bud.

"Oh, cuckolds brownie!" Amy gasped as small waves of lust shot through her body. But as soon as she closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, Stuart let loose another series of blows to her ass, all while keeping up his assault on the love button.

"Oh, my God," she moaned as the pain from the blows melded with the pleasure of his fingers, sending shivers of pleasure-pain shooting throughout her body. She lowered her head all the way to the bench, causing her ass to stick out even more invitingly for her master's pleasure, a pleasure he was only too willing to take as he let loose another series of blows, a series that inflicted even more pain to her ailing bottom, even as his other hand continued to work her clit.

"Oh, cuckolds brownie!" Amy groaned again as she felt herself loosing control. "Can I cum, Master?" But Stuart didn't respond, instead sliding the hand that had been spanking her down to her pussy, then sliding two fingers into her sloppy cunt and shoving them home.

"Please, Master," Amy wailed, her legs beginning to sway beneath her as she struggled to keep herself from cuming. But still Stuart ignored her, continuing his assault on her pussy and clit, before suddenly withdrawing his hands, delivering one more blow to her butt-cheeks, and sliding around behind her. Then he grabbed her hip with one hand and his cock with the other and pressed it up against her pussy. And then he rammed it home.

"Oh cuckolds brownie, oh cuckolds brownie, oh cuckolds brownie," the older woman gasped, nearly falling forward as he slammed his meat into her pussy. "Please, Master!" she wailed helplessly. "Please . . . I can't . . ."

Stuart paused for a moment, his cock-head now barely inside her pussy. "Now, Mrs. Marshall," he said with a smug air of confidence and control, "you may cum." And with that he began ramming his cock in and out of the whimpering pile of flesh beneath him like a man possessed.

"Arrrrggghhhhhh!" The sound that spewed from Amy's throat as her body exploded in orgasmic bliss was more natural than human, and the shaking and convulsing that wracked her body nearly caused her to lose complete control of herself. "Arrrrggghhhhhh!" she cried out again, now struggling to hold her position under Stuart's onslaught, a struggle she lost a few moments later when her knees finally gave out and she collapsed onto the bench, finally pulling her pussy free from his cock.

But although her pussy was now free, Amy was not, a fact she quickly learned as Stuart dropped to his knees behind her and repositioned his cock at the entrance to her ass. Then, even as her suddenly feeble mind was struggling to comprehend what was about to happen, the young man began pushing into her forbidden hole. And although he was definitely gentler than he'd been when he'd attacked her pussy, he was certainly not as gentle as he could have been. And another wail spewed from Amy's throat.

Once Stuart was fully inside her -- and when he saw that Amy was putting up no resistance at all, even going so far as to arch her back so she'd be more accessible to him -- he pulled his rock hard cock partially out of her, hesitated, and then rammed it home. And as yet another scream filled the air, the young man began pounding his engorged cock into her over and over, harder and harder, and he didn't stop until another orgasm was shattering the older woman's body, even as he was shooting his own seed deep into her dark hole.

* * *

When Amy finally managed to regain her senses, Stuart was nowhere to be seen. For several long moments she held her position, face down doggy style on the bench, still wearing nothing but those shiny black patent leather boots. She took a deep breath, then pushed her exhausted body up from the bench and into a sitting position. Then she looked around, noting that not only were her clothes gone, but the shoes she'd tried on were gone as well.

After another moment she pushed herself to her feet and started for the front of the store, a small part of her wondering if the young man had abandoned her. But when she rounded the corner, there he was, fully clothed, bent over the front desk writing something in a log book. He looked up as she approached.

"I just have a few more things to do before I can take off. Your clothes are over there," he pointed.

She gave the clothing a cursory glance, then turned and stepped towards him, seemingly unaware that her naked breasts were perched invitingly above the counter.

"So tell me, Stuart," she started. "Do I belong to you or to Derek?"

Stuart couldn't help the small snort that escaped his nose, nor could he resist reaching out and tweaking her right nipple.

"Yes," he responded with a snicker. Then he again nodded his head towards her clothing. "Now, I thought I told you to get dressed."

In spite of herself, Amy couldn't suppress the smile that slid across her face. The answer Stuart had given was short and curt, but it did, in fact, answer her question. She belonged to both of them, and to anyone else they might bring into the club. And while for most women that would have been a shocking, even an unacceptable answer; for Amy it was . . . well, you know Amy.
"Yes, Master," she said, dipping in a mock curtsy with her index finger pressed under her chin. "Your wish is my command."

Stuart laughed. "And you'd better not forget it," he rebutted, picking a wadded piece of paper up from the desk and tossing it at her playfully.

Amy giggled lightly as she dodged the paper, then made her way to where her clothes lay. "I seem to be missing my panties and nylons, Master," she teased sweetly.

"Call it a trade," Stuart responded, chuckling lightly as he pointed to a table behind the counter upon which three shoe boxes sat; two containing the pairs she'd previously tried on, the other containing her own shoes. "Your panties and nylons for the two pairs of shoes."

Amy looked at shoes, then back at Stuart. "And the boots?"

Stuart stopped what he was doing and looked up. "Those are yours," he said simply. "You earned them."

With a large smile on her face, Amy slid up behind Stuart and wrapped her arms around him, pulling her naked body firmly against him. "Thank you, Master," she cooed.

Stuart allowed the hug to last a few seconds, then straightened up and pushed her away. "Now, if you don't get dressed and let me finish my work, we'll never make it to the party."

"Party," Amy beamed. "I love parties."

For the first week after her encounter with Derek Strong and Amy Marshall, Kara Johnmister had been moderately successful at finding some trivial, mindless task to help take her mind off the events of that day. On occasion she'd even managed to convince herself that it hadn't really been far and away the single most erotic event of her life. But as the days rolled by and the day of Derek's departure for college neared, Amy's words became increasingly difficult to get out of her head.

'If you don't call him,' her 36 year-old married neighbor had said to her the day after it'd happened, 'you'll regret it the rest of your life.'

And so, for the umpteenth time that day, Kara stood before the kitchen telephone, nervous butterflies dancing in her stomach as those words rang over and over in her head . . . 'You'll regret it the rest of your life' . . . 'You'll regret it the rest of your life' . . . 'You'll regret it the rest of your life' . . .

Finally, at 11:30 AM Wednesday, just a half-week before Derek's scheduled Sunday departure for college, she gave in and reached for the phone, her hands shaking so hard that she could hardly read his number on the card Amy had given her.



The phone rang three times before Derek picked it up. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Miss Johnmister," he said smugly, betraying his caller ID. "Amy told me you'd be calling, but I have to admit, I didn't think you had it in you."

Stunned by how the young man had taken control before she'd even spoken a word, Kara stumred out a weak response; the only response she could think of. "Amy said I'd call?"

But Derek ignored her query, instead getting directly to the point. "This is what will happen, Miss Johnmister," he said confidently. "That is, it's what will happen if you truly want to take our relationship to the next level.

"You will be at my house tomorrow morning at 11:00 AM sharp. You will be wearing a tank top with no bra, stretch-waist exercise pants, a tie-side thong, no socks, and shoes you can slip off easily. You may wear light make-up if you wish, but absolutely nothing else. Clear?"

Kara nearly dropped the phone, shuddering as chills ran down her spine. It was happening again, just like it did the other time. She, the adult, the mature one, the one that should have been able to find a way to deal with the situation, was coming completely unglued as a boy 20 years her junior exerted his will on her, pushing her to places that, truth be told, she still wasn't completely certain she wanted to go.

"But your parents, won't they . . ." she stammered.

But Derek cut her off. "Are you questioning me, Miss Johnmister?" he challenged in a firm voice, adding fright to the growing list of afflictions now affecting Kara.

"No, Sir," she responded automatically.

"You'd better not be," Derek said. Then, a moment later, he continued in a slightly softer voice. "Not that you deserve an answer, but my parents are leaving very early tomorrow morning and won't be back until midday Saturday. That should give us plenty of time, don't you agree, Miss Johnmister?"

"Yes, Sir," she whispered weakly, but the line had already gone dead.

* * *

It was one minute before 11:00 the next morning when Kara pulled into Derek's driveway. Nervously, she looked at the mirror and brushed the hair from her face. Then she closed her eyes, took a long slow breath, exhaled and opened the door. She reached her feet and closed the door, then checked her reflection in the car window -- white tank top, stretch-waist exercise pants, no socks, sandals, and just as instructed, no bra and a tie-side thong underneath it all.

'Christ. I didn't even own a pair of tie-side thongs before last night,' she thought.

Then, after yet another calming breath, she turned and started for the front door.

She reached the door and hesitated; the doubts again creeping in now that the moment of truth was upon her. 'Are you sure you want to do this?' she thought to herself. 'It's not to late. You can still turn around and leave.'

But she didn't leave, nor did she move her finger towards the door bell. Instead, she just stood there, stricken with confusion and indecision. Why was she there? Was she really willing to surrender herself to a young man barely out of high school? And if she did go ahead with it, would she be able to face herself in the morning or would she be overcome with the same shame and offense she endured last time?

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know," she said in a near whisper. "I just don't know." And so she stood there, a statue frozen in time, unable to move until suddenly the door swung open. And there he was, her tormentor, standing before her in shorts and a tee-shirt, bigger than life itself.

For the longest moment the world was silent. Kara stood there nervously, uncertain whether to turn and run or stand and wait, while Derek simply stared at her through the eyes of a man who had no doubt that soon, very soon, he would have his prey. Finally, just when Kara didn't think she could take any more of the silence, the young man stepped away from the door.

"Come," he said simply, that single word exploding in her ears like no word before. And with her heart pounding in her chest, Kara found herself following the young man into the house, one foot moving slowly in front of the other, knowing full well that her fate had already been decided.

Once they were inside Derek eased the door closed, slid his hand onto Kara's lower back and guided her to the center of the foyer, turning her so she was facing the mirror on the far wall. Then, without further fanfare, he slid behind her, slipped his fingers inside the elastic waist-band of her exercise pants and slid them over her hips and down her thighs, stopping when they reached her knees. Then he slid the bottom of her top upwards until it reached her underarms, and then pulled the front up and over her head so it stretched between her biceps behind her back. Finally, he reached down, took hold of the ties on her thong and pulled. Once the ties came free, he eased the tiny garment from between her legs and slipped it casually into his pocket. Only then did he look in the mirror at her completely exposed breasts and pussy and nod his head approvingly.

He reached around her and traced his fingers lightly over her breasts, smiling smugly as her nipples hardened and goosebumps broke out across her body.

"So tell me, Miss Johnmister, what do you want from me?"

Kara swallowed deeply, lowering her eyes briefly to the reflection of his hands tracing slow little circles on her breasts, then raising them back to meet his. 'Why is this so difficult?' she screamed silently. It wasn't like she had any real doubt as to what the answer to his question truly was; she wanted him to do to her exactly what he'd done the week before, and exactly what he'd done to Amy. She wanted him to dominate her, to take her in any and every way he could imagine. She wanted him to humiliate her, degrade her, even punish her. And yes, she wanted him to bring her too more of those wonderful mind-blowing orgasms, over and over and over, just like he had before.

She struggled with her emotions, powering herself to cut loose the social mores that were holding her back. Who cared if she was a middle aged woman and he was barely out of high school? And what difference did it make what people would think of her if they ever found out about the things they did?

"I asked you a question, Miss Johnmister," Derek said abruptly, cutting through her reverie. "What do you want from me?" And then he eased his right hand away from her breast and lowered it to her crotch, rubbing her already wet pussy while his other hand squeezed and caressed her breast.

Kara closed her eyes, took one more deep breath and re-opened them, and then looked his reflection straight in the eyes. "I want you to take me like you did the other day," she said, her voice cracking even as her body writhed under his caresses. "I want you to be my Master, and I want to be your slut-toy."

Derek kept his right hand on her pussy while he moved his left hand from her breasts to her chin and turned her head back over her shoulder. Then, with their eyes barely six inches apart, he spoke.

"Are you certain of that, Miss Johnmister?"

She did her best to nod her head. "Yes," she manged to eek out. "I'm certain."

He released her then, stepping backwards. "Put your clothes back together, remove your shoes and come with me."

Hurriedly, she slid her top back over her head, pulled her pants up and kicked off her shoes. Then she scurried to the living room entrance where Derek waited patiently.

"After you, Miss Johnmister," the young man said, waiving his hand into the room.

Kara was looking at Derek as she eased by him, not looking forward until she was two full steps into the room. That's when she turned her head and saw a young man dressed in a simple blue polo shirt and shorts sitting in the middle of the love seat and staring directly at her.

Kara recognized the young man instantly, and why wouldn't she? After all, he wasn't just some stranger off the street -- far from it. He was Stuart Chambers, the 19 year-old mister of Pamela Chambers, Kara's best friend. He was the same young man that Kara had known since shortly before his second birthday, and the same young man that, until a few years ago, had called her "Aunt Kara" even though they were not actually related.

In fact, when it came right down to it, Kara had an almost lady-like affection for Stuart, having lived through all of his boyhood trauma's and successes vicariously through his lady. She'd celebrated his successes with Pamela, and she'd cried with her over his failures and disappointments. And now he was sitting on the love seat, staring at her, waiting.

All those thoughts flashed through her mind in a split second. Then, reacting with the speed that only sheer panic could cause, she turned around and looked at Derek.

"I didn't know you had company," she said, the cracking and squeaking in her voice betraying her nerves. "I can come back another time." And then she started for the front door, only to find Derek sliding over to block her exit from the room.

"Is there a problem?" he asked sarcastically.

Kara's heart was pounding wildly in her chest. "Please," she said in a voice only Derek could hear. "He's my best friend's mister. I've known him nearly his whole life. I can't, I just can't."

Derek smiled softly, reaching out tenderly to brush a strand of hair from her face before sliding both hands around to the base of her neck. "It was hard for you to call me yesterday, wasn't it?" he asked in an equally quiet voice.

She nodded her head weakly and whispered. "Yes."

He slid his right hand down her neck and onto her shoulder, easing the strap slightly towards the edge of her shoulder. "And even harder to come here this morning."

Kara glanced nervously towards the hand on her shoulder, then back into his eyes. "Yes," came the soft reply.



Derek eased his other hand down her neck and onto her shoulder, brushing the other strap towards the the edge of her shoulder to match the first one. And then he began gently squeezing her tense muscles, massaging them, kneading them.

"You want to stay, don't you?"

And even though she shook her head back and forth, Derek could see the doubt creeping into her eyes. "He's Pamela's mister," Kara managed to answer in a barely audible voice. "How could I face her again."

"But you do want to stay, don't you?" Derek countered, keeping up his gentle, tender pressure.

Kara stared into his eyes for several seconds, saying nothing, before finally lowering her eyes in shame. "I shouldn't," she whispered softly. "I really shouldn't."

Derek allowed his facial features to soften. "You do know that if you leave now, there's no coming back."

Kara looked up at him uncertainly and shook her head. "I could come back tomorrow, or later tonight, or maybe even . . ."

"No," Derek interjected in a firm voice. "If you leave now it's over; you can never come back. Is that what you want?"

Kara stammered. "I don't know. I mean no, I mean . . ."

Derek shook his head slowly and withdrew his hands from her shoulders. Then he took a small step to the side.

"It's your choice, Kara. What will it be, stay or go."

Kara looked towards the door, at the opening he'd given her. He was serious when he said she was free to go, of that she had no doubt. But still . . . She closed her eyes, bit her lower lip and shook her head. 'No,' she thought, 'I can't. It's Stuart; Pamela's mister. I can't. I . . .'

"Miss Johnmister," Derek said, breaking into her thoughts. "Are you leaving or not?"



Kara opened her eyes and turned her head back towards him, a pleading, yet confused look in her eyes. But she found no solace in his face, only the look of a man who was beginning to lose his patience. She turned her head away, once again looking towards the front door and the freedom that lay beyond it. She stared at the door for several seconds before turning back towards Derek. Finally, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and lowered her head submissively.

As soon as she dropped her head, Derek stepped towards her, a wry smile easing onto his face. "Okay, Miss Johnmister, it's time to begin." And with no further fanfare he returned his hands on her shoulders and slid the straps of her tank top down her arms, allowing the top to slide down her torso and gather around her waist, leaving her naked breasts visible to Derek, and her backside to Stuart.

By the time her foggy mind could come to grips with the fact that she was now naked from the waist up, the young man had moved on, sliding his thumbs inside the top of her tank-top and pushing down, allowing the thumbs to then slip inside the pants to push both top and bottom over her hips, down her legs and onto the floor. And by the time the startled gasp fully escaped her throat, Kara was totally naked, her clothes in a disheveled pile around her feet.

Derek continued moving swiftly, sliding his left hand behind Kara's head and gently grabbing a handful of hair. Then he turned her head so her glazed over eyes were looking directly into his.

"Step out of your clothes, Miss Johnmister," he ordered.

To Kara, it had happened way to fast. One moment she was standing there, staring towards the front of the house, trying to get up the nerve to walk out, and a moment later she was stark naked before not only Derek, but her best friend's mister as well, struggling to comprehend how, in the short span of less than two weeks, she'd gone from a normal, well-adjusted woman to a needy, wanton slut-toy who not only didn't seem to care that she was standing naked and powerless before two boys 20 years her junior, but actually seemed to crave the offense and shame she was currently experiencing, not to mention the degradation that was undoubtedly yet to come.

But it wouldn't be until later that evening, long after the events of the day were behind her, when she'd finally look back and realize that this was the moment of her ultimate surrender; that this was the moment she finally acknowledged the burning desires that heretofore she'd kept buried deep inside, and that this was the moment the battle that had been raging within her finally ended.

Derek, taking quick advantage of his slut-toy's surrender, turned her around and eased her up against the outcropping of wall that separated the main hallway from the living room. Even though Kara knew that her nakedness was now completely out front for Stuart's review, she offered no resistance. Even so, she could not bring herself to lift her head and look his way.

Derek could sense his slut-toys nervousness and shame but refused to ease up on her. He slid his left hand to her shoulder, then slid his right hand to her face to brush aside some disheveled strands.

"Tell me, slut-toy, does it make you feel horny knowing that Pamela Chambers' mister is sitting just a few feet away, oogling your hot, luscious nakedness? And does it make your pussy ache knowing that soon he'll be doing more than just looking?"

Kara's breath caught in her throat, her already rubbery knees nearly giving out completely as the true meaning behind Derek's words struck home. Still, she gathered herself quickly, took a deep breath and re-focused her attention on Derek.

"Yes," she said in a soft voice, but a voice that both boys could hear.

Derek dropped his right hand to her chest, allowing his fingers to lightly circle her D-cup breasts and gently pinch their hardened nipples. And then he slid his hand over the meat of her right breast and squeezed, bringing a gasp from his slut-toy's mouth.

"And can you feel his sex-crazed young eyes boring in on your fat, luscious titties?"

"Oh God, yes," was all the reply she could manage as her knees again nearly buckled beneath her.

"And are you thinking about him squeezing them, sucking them, even biting them?"

"Yes," Kara whispered desperately, losing more control with each new query her Master tared. "I am."

It was then that Derek withdrew his right hand, grabbed a tuft of hair with his left and pulled it downward.

"On your hands and knees, slut-toy, just like the bitch-in-heat that you are."

"Yes, Sir," she replied in a cracking voice as she dropped quickly to her hands and knees before him. And even though she was pointed directly at Stuart, she kept her head lowered, still unable to look him in the eyes.

She heard Derek step away, only to return a few seconds later. Then she felt him slide the tip of a riding crop between the back of her legs and begin patting her pussy.

"This is what's going to happen," he said. "You're going to crawl over to my guest and, using your hands and mouth, make love to his feet. Understand?"

The words sent a shiver down Kara's spine as the image of her on her hands and knees in front of Stuart, kissing, biting and massaging his feet shot through her mind. And with her body shaking visibly, she somehow found a way to gather herself enough to respond.

"Yes, Sir. I understand." Then, still struggling to get control of her nerves, she started crawling slowly across the room, with Derek's riding crop constantly tap-tap-tapping her pussy as she went.

She stopped crawling a few inches from Stuarts feet. The tapping on her pussy, however, continued, with each new tap causing tiny sparks to shoot through her already aroused body.

For a moment she held her position, neither retreating backwards nor reaching out for his feet, instead just holding her position, thinking that if Derek would just stop that damn tap-tap-tapping on her pussy . . .

But he didn't stop. If anything he started slapping a little bit harder, a little bit faster, pushing her just a little bit further over the edge until suddenly the riding crop withdrew from her pussy and landed a firm SWAT! on her bare cheek, followed an instant later by another SWAT! on the other cheek.

"Well, Miss Johnmister? We're waiting." Two more swats struck home before Kara could lean forward enough to bring her lips to Stuart's bare feet as they sat on the carpet before her.

Kara had no delusions about how she looked. She was a grown woman in a totally humiliating, degrading position, doing vile and disgusting acts to the feet of her best friend's mister while another young man stood above her, alternately tapping his riding crop on her soaking pussy and lashing it across her fanny. But in her new reality -- the reality she'd only moments before acknowledged -- her offense was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was the sexual gratification that came from serving her Master well. And if he told her to degrade herself by making love to this young man's feet, well . . .

She spent several minutes -- minutes that felt like hours -- making love to Stuart's feet. She alternated from one foot to the other, kissing the crown of each, licking them, sucking on each individual toe, even nibbling on them, all while her hands gently caressed them.

She allowed her hands to slide up his calves, kneading them, before lifting first one foot, then the other off the ground and kissing and licking their bottoms. And through all her offense, Derek kept up that incessant tap, tap, tapping on her pussy, bringing her to the brink of orgasm several times, only to ease up at the last minute and deny her her release, keeping her on edge until, finally, he landed several hard swats across her backside before returning to her pussy to attack it with a vengeance and send her over the edge. And as her body convulsed in orgasm she wrapped her arms around Stuart's calves and pulled them hard against her head and chest, even as Derek was unleashing several more swats across her fanny. And when he was finally finished, Kara held her position, gasping for breath and feeling like nothing more than a two-bit tramp.

* * *

While she knelt there, her arms still wrapped around Stuart's legs, Derek moved across the room, picked up a small ottoman and carried it back, setting it down directly behind Kara. And then he took a half step backwards.

"On you feet, slut-toy!" he ordered.

Kara released Stuart's legs immediately and jumped to her feet, lowering her head in shame as she awaited Derek's next command.

"Sit down on the ottoman," came the order.

Kara looked behind her to locate the indicated ottoman, took a small step backwards and lowered herself onto the foot rest, her eyes still submissively lowered.

"Now, lay back," Derek ordered.

She complied without hesitation, her ass perched on the edge nearest Stuart with her pussy pointed directly towards him. Her head hung completely over the opposite edge, bent backwards until it came to rest against the back-side of the ottoman. And through upside-down eyes, she watched her young Master drop to his knees behind her, pull off his tee-shirt and shove his shorts down to the floor. A moment after that she was opening her mouth in anticipation.

Derek held her head with one hand while he guided his throbbing manhood through her parted lips with his other. Once he was inside her, he moved both his hands to her neck, holding it steady while he eased his cock slowly out, then in, then out again.

"So, Miss Johnmister, tell me -- do you like being a slut-toy?"

Kara tried to answer, but the cock sliding in and out of her mouth muffled her words. She tried to nod her head but Derek's hand held her steady.

"It seems we have a communication issue here," Derek teased. He hesitated, pretending to ponder the problem, before continuing.

"I know! I'll ask you questions. Then, if the answer is no, you will twirl both of your nipples between your thumbs and forefingers. If, on the other hand, the answer is yes, you will spread your legs wide, arch your ass off the ottoman and pull your pussy lips apart, making sure to give my guest a real good look at the inside of your hot, juicy love tunnel."

He paused then, still easing his meat in and out of her mouth. "Now, let's try it again. Do you like being a slut-toy, Miss Johnmister?

He half expected her to hesitate, to wrestle with his instructions and wage some sort of internal struggle. But she didn't. Instead, he watched as her hands moved quickly to her pussy and spread her hot, puffy lips wide, even as she was lifting her ass off the ottoman.

"Then you have no regrets," he followed up, noting how quickly she dropped her ass back to the ottoman, abandoned her pussy and reached for her nipples, alternately twirling them and squeezing the meat of her breasts.

"You want to continue being a slut-toy, don't you Miss Johnmister?"

In answer, she again reached for her pussy lips, spreading them wide as her ass shot into the air.

Derek paused then, watching as the excited woman slithered atop the ottoman, rolling her hips in the air as she held herself open to Stuart.



"Tell me, Miss Johnmister," he continued. "Do you want a Master to serve; a Master who will be there to guide you in your servitude, to give you pleasure when you're good and punish you when you're bad?"

By now her hips were grinding wildly, her fingers stretching her lips as her mouth took the cock that was sliding in and out of it.

"Then will you accept Stuart as your new Master?"

For a moment, she kept up her crazed self ministrations, not quite grasping his words. And then the meaning behind the words struck home and she came to an abrupt stop.

"Come now," Derek said, stopping the in and out pistoning of his hips, brushing her cheeks lightly with his thumbs. "You know I'm off to college this weekend and while I will be back from time to time, those visits will be few and brief in duration. You've come a long way in a very short time, Kara, much to far to turn back. You need a Master to tend to you. You need Stuart."

There was another moment of silence and stillness as Kara wrestled with her thoughts. Finally, her hips began to slowly raise off the ottoman again, and her fingers pulled her wet, puffy lips apart.

"Very good," Derek said in a soft voice. "Now, my little slut-toy, show Master Stuart how badly your body craves him. Masturbate for him. Bring yourself off while he watches. Become his."

And with that Kara slid her fingers into her cunt, working her hungry pussy, even as Derek recommenced his attack on her mouth. And barely more than a minute later, a minute that saw Derek ravaging her mouth, even as she was ravaging her pussy, her body exploded in orgasm. And a few short moments later, her conqueror began spewing his seed down her throat.

Several seconds passed before Derek eased his cock from her mouth, rose to his feet and pulled his shorts gingerly up his legs.

"Master Stuart, the slut-toy Kara is now yours." And with that he bent over to pick up his shirt, turned and exited the room.

* * *

For what seemed an eternity but was really not even a minute, Kara held her position, splayed out atop the ottoman in front of young Stuart Chambers, her new Master. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she waited, part of her still wondering whether she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Several more seconds passed before she heard a rustling sound that indicated the young man was rising from the couch and assuming a kneeling position beside her. Yet even though she sensed his approach, she felt shivers shoot through her body when his finger-tips touched her stomach.

"So, you want to be my slut-toy?" he asked softly as the finger-tips from his other hand brushed across her breasts, even as the first hand slid across her hungry pussy.

She swallowed hard, somehow managing to control herself enough to offer a raspy reply. "Yes, Sir."

And then, for another half-minute, silence ruled the room as Stuart's finger-tips danced their way lightly across her body.

Then, without warning Stuart withdrew his fingers and rose to his feet. "Sit up!" he ordered.

Kara eased her head and torso upright as ordered and repositioned herself on the edge of the ottoman. Then she lowered her head, still not having the nerve to look her best friend's stepmister in the eyes.

But when Stuart saw her turn her head away he shook his head and spoke.

"Look at me," he ordered.

Kara hesitated, not sure she was ready to face her new Master directly. She took a deep breath, then another, and finally lifted her head and turned towards him. And when she saw her best friend's mister staring intently back at her she shivered, somehow feeling more exposed, more vulnerable than she'd ever felt before -- even with Derek.

"Very good. I'm glad to see you know how to obey," Stuart said in a teasing voice. He paused briefly, feasting on her nervousness, then continued. "Now, on you knees."

This time Kara moved quickly. And even though she felt like little more than a cheap tramp as she moved to obey the young man, she somehow reveled in her offense.

Once she was in the prescribed position Stuart bent over and pushed the ottoman several feet away before returning to his slut-toy's side. Then, without further ado, he reached for the bottom of his shirt and ripped it over his head, before moving his hands to his waist and pushing his shorts down to the floor and kicking them aside.

Kara stared at the engorged manhood as it stood bold and proud barely a foot to her side, completely unaware that her mouth was hanging agape. She wasn't even aware that Stuart had slid his hand behind her head until she felt him take hold of a handful of hair and pull her even closer, leaving her mouth barely two inches from his tip. And as he held her there, she could feel her hunger growing as she sank further and further under his spell.

"You want this, don't you?" Stuart challenged, pulling her close enough to slap the underside of his cock across her face. When she failed to answer he leaned over slightly and spoke in a low, slow voice.

"I asked you a question, Aunt Kara. Do you want it or not?"

"Yes, I want it!" Kara gasped, the glistening of the sweat on her body making her look like some kind of deranged sex fiend as she reached out for his cock with her mouth.

But Stuart laughed a snide little laugh as he pushed her head away from his manhood and towards the sofa.

"Face and chest on the sofa," he barked, "knees on the floor, legs spread."

"Yes sir," she replied without hesitation, the authoratative tone of his voice sending her into instant motion as she quickly assumed the proscribed position. And then she waited; waited while Stuart took his time slipping around behind her and dropping to his knees.

She gasped when the tip of his meat brushed across her pussy lips, not quite certain it wasn't a small orgasm that shook her body. But when she reached back for his cock with her pussy, the cock was gone, only to reappear again a moment later.

"Please, Sir," she begged, even reaching between her legs with her right hand, trying to grab hold of her prize, only to once again find it gone.

Then she felt his left hand trail down her side, sending tickling shivers through her body.

Finally, just when her desperation had reached its peak, she felt him ram his meat home, causing an unintelligible scream to spew from her throat as he filled her up and stopped, leaving his meat buried inside her pussy as he grabbed hold of her hair and pulled her up from the sofa, twisting her head so she was partially facing back towards him.

"So, is this what you want, Aunt Kara? You want little ole' Stuart to give you his big, hungry cock?"

"Oh, God yes!" she gasped, even as his free hand was reaching around and latching onto her breast.

"And do you want him to squeeze your fat titties while he pounds your pussy?"

"Yes, yes," she cried out. "Please . . ."

But her voice just trailed off as he shoved her back to the sofa and began thrusting himself at her; in, out, in, out, over and over and over until . . .

"Oh sweet Jesus I'm cuuuuummmmmmmiiiinnngggg . . ." she cried, just as the orgasm exploded in her loins.

But even as she cried out, surrounded in her blissful orgasmic cloud, Stuart was withdrawing his meat and repositioning it at the gates to her nether hole.

"Oh, God yes," Kara managed to scream as she felt his manhood powering it's way into her dark hole. "Fuck my ass, Master. Please, fuck my ass!"

And fuck her ass he did, drilling her over and over as she frigged her clit with her hand until he finally, mercifully, began spewing his sperm into her, even as her own orgasm was wrecking her body.

And then it was over. Spent like she'd never been spent before -- physically, mentally, emotionally, sexually -- the woman who'd once been like a surrogate lady to the young man ****** on the sofa beneath her new Master.

* * *

Several minutes passed before Kara finally regained her senses. When she did, she found herself flat on her back on the floor, her right leg laying limply to the side. She also found her friend Amy kneeling above her wearing a short, silky, pale blue robe.

The prone, naked woman took a slow deep breath to clear her head, then spoke.

"You and Stuart?"

"Last night was the first time." Amy responded tentatively. "I would have told you, but Derek and Stuart forbid it. Still, I should have said something. If I had . . ."

But Kara cut her off. "If you had, I definitely wouldn't have done it." Then she pushed herself to her knees. "And if I wouldn't have done that, then I definitely wouldn't have done this." And with that, she reached out and untied the sash around Amy's waist, then slid her hands up her friends chest and pushed the robe off her shoulders.

It was a warm mid November morning in central Florida, and Amy Marshall was making her way slowly through the lingerie section of a local store. As was often the case, Amy's husband was out of town on business for a few days, and Amy was left home to 'hold down the fort.'

Typically, the weeks when Brad was away on business were good weeks for Amy, weeks when she was free to let the slut in her run wild, weeks when she didn't have to invent reamisters to be with Stuart Chambers, the 19 year-old boy who'd been dominating her life for about 2 and-a-half months now. This week promised to be no different.

It was a bit after noon when Amy returned home, entering the house through the garage door and making her way to the kitchen. She deposited the bags containing her 'take' for the day -- a new bra, a couple pairs of sexy panties, some nylons, a skirt and two tops -- on the center island, then moved towards the sink. That's when she saw the piece of paper laying on the counter.

She picked up the paper and unfolded it, then leaned back against the counter and started to read:

'You are to meet me at Murphy's tonight at 6:00 sharp. Your clothing for the evening is laid out in the bedroom. You are permitted to bring a purse, but other than that, you are to wear exactly what you find on the bed, absolutely nothing more, and absolutely nothing less. And make sure you park in the same spot.'

"Derek's home!" Amy gasped.

Derek was Amy's first master, the young man who first taught her the wonderful world of surrender and presentation, the young man she served before Stuart, and the young man she'd never truly forget. After all, in a strange sort of way, Derek was her first. And as everyone knows, you never completely get over your first.

She didn't for a minute question that the unsigned note was from him. After all, not only was Murphy's the grill and bar Derek took her to when he first took control of her, he also had his own key to the house and had assured her he'd make it home at Thanksgiving. He just happened to be a few days earlier then she'd expected, that's all.

With the note still in her hand, she turned and hurried to the Master Bedroom, eager to see just how her master planned on displaying her that evening. Truthfully, she couldn't say she was surprised at what she saw, nor was she surprised at what she didn't see.

The first thing she noticed was the brown print wrap-around skirt which, while it wouldn't exactly qualify as a mini-skirt, did manage to leave several inches of her shapely thighs on display. Sitting to one side of the skirt was a pair of her sexiest white panties -- a very tiny pair. On the other side sat her favorite brown stiletto shoes, the ones with the open toe and dainty strap that wrapped around the ankle. On the far side of the bed lay a semi-sheer white-on-white sleeveless blouse with a straight cut waist that would just barely cover the top of her skirt. Conspicuously missing were nylons and bra, which meant her legs and pussy would be easily accessible to her master's hands, and her breasts and nipples, while not exactly on wide open display, would be far more exposed than was proper -- even by Amy's very loose standards. And a small shiver shot through her spine.

It wasn't until she was about to turn away from the bed that she saw the final piece of her attire, a small, remote control vibrating egg like the one Derek had first used on her, laying atop her pillow. The remote itself, however, was nowhere to be seen. And another shiver shot through her body as lowered herself to the bed.

* * *

Amy spent the rest of the afternoon moving anxiously about the house, trying just about anything to get her mind off of Derek and all the things he might do to her that evening. None of her attempts at distraction worked, however, and by the time she started getting ready it was all she could do to keep from ripping her clothes off and digging her fingers into her pussy.

She allowed extra time to get ready. After all, the last thing she wanted to do was keep the young man waiting. Even so, it was a couple minutes before 5:30 when she finally looked in the mirror and pronounced herself a complete and utter slut!'

By the time she backed the car out of the driveway it was 5:35, and by the time she approached the bar it was 5:55. Just enough time to park and fix her face. When she finally slid through the front door of Murphy's, the clock over the bar indicated 6:00 on the button.

Before the door could even close behind her, Amy's eyes were moving to the booth at the back of the bar. She could see that the booth was occupied by one lone man, but set in the shadows as he was and facing away from the door, she couldn't make out his face.

"Party of one?" the young waitress by the door asked, breaking her train of thought.

Amy turned her head towards the young woman, keeping her body at an angle and her purse strategically placed in hopes of not drawing too much attention to her state of dress. "I'm supposed to meet someone," she replied, noting that it wasn't the same waitress that waited on them the first time. She wondered if that was good or bad.

"Oh, yes," the waitress replied. "I believe your party is already here. He insisted on the large booth in the back." Then she dropped her eyes to take in Amy's attire. "If you'll just follow me," she said, shaking her head slightly from side to side.

When the waitress turned and started towards the back, Amy took one long, deep breath to calm her nerves. "Here goes," she whispered under her breath. And then she started after the young woman. She hadn't taken two steps when the figure in the back booth turned to face her for the first time.

"Oh, my God," Amy gasped, a mere second before the vibrating egg in her pussy jumped suddenly to life.

* * *

Seeing the look on his wife's face when she suddenly realized that it wasn't Derek she was meeting, but her own husband, and seeing her body react when he turned the vibrating egg on high brought a wicked little smile to Brad Marshall's face. But it was a smile that quickly disappeared. After all, all those weeks of stress and grief could not be assuaged quite so easily. No, that would take some time, and the night was still young.

It had been late summer or early fall when Derek first began sensing that something in Amy's world had changed. At first it was just a feeling, an instinct, a gnawing in the pit of his stomach telling him that something wasn't right, that something was different. But it wasn't until after the seed was firmly planted in his mind that he actually started noticing specifics, like her hushed voice while talking on the phone, or her comings and goings at unusual hours with what at best would be described as flimsy explanations. And for the first time in their relationship, Brad began to wonder if he wasn't on the verge of losing her.

Once he recovered from his original fear, he began taking a closer look at their relationship, and the closer he looked, the more he wondered how they'd managed to keep it together as long as they had. After all, he had a preference for men and didn't hesitate to pursue that preference on his many business trips, while his wife definitely had a bit of 'tramp' in her and had never willingly denied herself the pleasures of the body.

But that was only part of it. What made their relationship even stranger -- in his mind, at least -- was the fact that they never, ever addressed the subject with each other, even though he had very little doubt that she knew as much about his secret life as he knew about hers. But suddenly, it was beginning to look like maybe that wasn't such a good foundation for a marriage after all.

Over the ensuing weeks, Brad's fears and trepidation continued to grow, ultimately bringing him to the point where he just had to do something. That's when he started snooping through her things, and that's when he found the diary buried deep in the files of her laptop.

The diary dated back to late June, and the first line of the first entry pretty much said it all; 'Yesterday I became a slut-toy, and Derek Strong, a neighborhood boy barely half my age, became my Master.'

At first, all he could do was stare at the screen, reading that one line over and over and over in absolute disbelief. 'Derek Strong?' he thought. 'Her Master? Why, the boy's not even 19 years old.'

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, then he opened them and began to read. And he didn't stop until he'd read the entire account of his wife's journey into subservience and presentation.

Once finished, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and tried to sort through his thoughts. It wasn't as if she'd betrayed him, not exactly, anyway. It was more like she'd crossed a line that, up until that point, neither of them even knew existed. Beyond that, he could tell from the tone of her writing that Amy was obsessed with her new life, more obsessed than he could ever remember her being, and the thought entered his mind that she might not be willing to walk away from it, even to save her marriage. And a queasy feeling began churning through the pit of his stomach.

After that day, the thought of what he'd read, and what it might mean was with him constantly. He began watching Amy closer than ever before, and became acutely aware of any oddities in her day to day activities. For the first time in his career, he even tried to minimize his business travel schedule so he could spend more time at home. But nothing he did could put the haunting feeling to rest that he needed to do something drastic, and he needed to do it soon. The only question was, what?

It was a simple question, just one little word. 'What?" But it was a question that had remained unanswered until just last week when, after rereading the diary for the umpteenth time, it finally came to him. And for the first time in weeks, a genuine smile crept across his face. Maybe he'd been approaching the problem from the wrong direction. If you can't beat 'em . . .

* * *

The egg continued to vibrate wildly in her pussy for a good four or five seconds before it finally switched off, freeing Amy from her temporary paralysis. Suddenly concerned that she'd been standing there long enough to draw unwanted attention to herself, she quickly surveyed the room, then began the long, nervous walk to her husband's booth.

As she neared the booth, Brad rose to his feet and turned to face her, blocking the last few steps to the booth. Several seconds of silence ensued, with each looking deeply into the other's eyes, before Brad finally stepped aside and gestured towards the seat.

"Can I get you something to take?" the waitress asked Amy, noting that Brad's take was still full.

"The lady will have a Chardonnay," Brad answered before Amy could even open her mouth.

"I'll bring that right over."

Amy took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat. Then she began sorting through the situation, trying to find some evidence that might suggest that her husband had not seen her diary. But the list of coincidences, while short, was quite damning.

First of all, while she knew Brad occasionally frequented Murphy's with clients, he certainly hadn't been there with her. And he'd never, ever taken her out in anything as slutty as what he'd laid out for her earlier on the bed. Further, knowing full well that she drank rum and diet cokes when they went out, he nonetheless ordered her a chardonnay, the very same take Derek had ordered for her all those months ago. And then there was the vibrating egg.

No, it was obvious Brad had seen her diary. Now the question was, what did he intend to do about it. And an uneasy feeling began creeping across her body as she turned her head towards her husband and opened her mouth to speak.

"No!" Brad said in an authoritative voice, raising a single finger in the air before the first syllable had left her mouth. "I'm really not interested in what you have to say. If I ask you a question, I'll expect an answer. Otherwise you are not to say a word. Understand?"

She almost challenged him, but stopped short, biting her lower lip as she tried to think. This was not the Brad Marshall she'd known, she reamistered, and certainly not the Brad Marshall she'd married. That Brad Marshall was a kind, loving man. And at the moment, there was very little love and kindness in face of the man beside her. So, as she saw it, she had two choices. She could stand firm and possibly put their marriage at risk, or she could weather the storm and hope for the best.. Deciding on the latter, she nodded her head slowly up and down.

"I said, if I ask you a question, I expect an answer.," Brad countered. "And if I'm not mistaken, I just asked you a question. So, one more time, do you or do you not understand?"

Amy swallowed deeply, becoming more confused, more frightened, with each passing moment. "Yes, I understand," she finally answered, lowering her eyes to the table before her. But despite the fear that was coursing through her veins, she couldn't help noticing the twinge that shot through her pussy as she submitted to her husband's authority.

"Good," Brad said. Then he turned his attention to the waitress as she made her way across the room with Amy's chardonnay.

The waitress slid the glass in front of Amy, then turned to Brad. "Would you care for menus?"

Brad shook his head. "That won't be necessary. We'll both have the Turkey Club with Fries. Oh, and there's no need to rush," he smiled, his gaze shifting to his wife. "We're in no hurry, are we, dear?"

"No, Sir," Amy responded, the 'sir' flowing automatically from her lips. And she couldn't help remembering that Derek had also ordered them the Turkey Club with Fries, and he had also informed the waitress not to hurry.

"Very well," the waitress said. Then she turned and headed for the kitchen.

Once they were alone, Brad turned to his wife, positioning his body to shield her as much as possible from the rest of the restaurant, and lowered his eyes to her blouse. "You look rather slutty tonight, dear. It's a good look for you."

Amy took a deep breath. "Thank you," she replied softly, not really knowing if she'd been paid a compliment or not, but correctly surmising that a response was expected.

"Still," Brad continued, "you don't look completely comfortable. Perhaps if you unbuttoned the top two buttons."

Amy lowered her eyes to her blouse, confirming that releasing two buttons would leave her open to the middle of her cleavage. 'So what's the story here?' she thought. 'Are you trying to teach me a lesmister, or do you just want to see how far I'll go?' She took a deep breath. 'Well, let's find out.' And with a deliberate slowness, she reached for her buttons and freed first one button, then the next. And then she waited.

Brad stared at the front of his wife's chest for a moment, then reached out, slipped his hand just inside the now open vee and spread it wider. Then he shook his head.

"Perhaps one more," he said, a controlling smile slipping across his lips.

A quiver shot through Amy's body as she realized that freeing one more button would expose her cleavage well below her breasts. Nevertheless, she reached for the button and slipped it free.

This time when Brad slipped his hand between the open lapels, he pushed them wide enough to expose a good amount of her breasts, then he slowly slid the hand over the exposed flesh, under the blouse and onto her right tit. And then he squeezed.

"Better," he said a moment later. "Don't you agree?"

Amy swallowed uncomfortably. "Yes, Sir," she replied, slipping a bit deeper into her submissive role.

She made no protest as Brad fondled her breast for several more seconds, but a short gasp did escape her mouth when he slid the blouse off to the side to completely expose the orb. And then, when his hand finally returned to her breast, she lowered her eyes to the bare breast in shock.

"You really do have beautiful breasts, you know," he teased, brushing his fingers lightly across her fully exposed nipple. "Maybe even nice enough to turn a gay man straight."

Amy lifted her head from her breast and turned to catch her husband's eye. "Please," she whispered. "Not like this. Not here."

"Why dear," Brad replied facetiously. "I pay you a glowing compliment and you don't even have the good graces to acknowledge it." He shook his head slowly from side to side, even as he continued to play with her erect nipple. "I must say, I'm very disappointed in you. I would have thought Derek and Stuart would have done a better job of training you than that."

Amy shot her eyes around the room quickly, confirming that, for the moment at least, no one could see her, then brought them back to Brad and swallowed deeply. "Thank you," she managed to whisper. "You're to kind."

Brad waited a second, then nodded his head. "Better." Then he removed his hand and slid the blouse back over her breast, but only enough to cover her nipple and part of her areola. Then he lowered his eyes to her skirt.

"You look warm, dear. Why don't you unwrap your skirt a bit."

A chill ran down Amy's spine at her husband's words. Then she shook her head slowly. "No, please," she pleaded in a voice that was barely audible. "I can't."

Brad let out a small snicker. "It wasn't really a suggestion, sweet-heart." And then he slipped one hand onto his wife's shoulder while the other hand slid into his pocket. An instant later Amy's body jumped against his hand as the egg sprang to life in her pussy -- full power. And for ten long seconds he held her shoulder firmly while she shivered against it. And then the egg went still.

"You bared your pussy to Derek right here in this very booth," Brad whispered as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "Now you're either going to unwrap the skirt for me, or I'm going to expose both of your breasts -- right here, and right now." And then he began easing his hand slowly from her shoulder, pulling her blouse with it, not stopping until the breast was once again completely uncovered. And then he moved his hand to her other shoulder.

Amy lowered her gaze to her bare breast in stunned silence, then lifted eyes back to Brad. She knew from experience that the dark confines of the back corner of the room would serve to mask most anything that may happen under the table. But her breasts? No. It was only a matter of time before someone -- a waitress, a bus-boy, the manager -- ventured within sight.

She closed her eyes and took a long slow breath. Then, just as she felt his hand slipping down her other shoulder with her blouse in tow, she opened them and nodded her head quickly.

"Okay," she gasped. "I'll do it."

Brad stopped his hand, then slid it back up her shoulder. And then he reached around and recovered the other breast, before returning his gaze to Amy and nodding his head.

Amy hesitated a second, then took a deep breath and lowered her hands to her skirt, even as her mind was wondering how things could have possibly gotten so out of hand. But as nervous and scared as she was, the thought of getting up and walking out never entered her mind.

The skirt itself was held together by two simple buttons along the waist. She freed the first button, then moved her hand slowly to the second and slipped it free. Then she hesitated long enough to cast one more glance towards her husband. But when her glance was met only by his hard, steely blue eyes, she exhaled the breath she didn't realize shed been holding and peeled the skirt open, leaving her covered below the waist by nothing but her high-heel shoes and a very sexy, very tiny pair of panties.

Brad admired her for a moment, then reached his hand down to her center, nodding approvingly when she parted her legs without being told. Then he turned the egg on to the low setting and began tracing his fingers around the outline of her hot, swollen lips through her panties.

"You know, I could order you to remove your panties," he stated matter-of-factly. "And even though you'd plead with me not to make you, you would, in fact, do it." He paused, but continued stroking her pussy through her panties while the egg hummed softly inside of her.

"You see," he continued, "I'm beginning to realize that being powerd to do things that put you at risk is a turn on for you. And despite the fear and nervousness that come with the risk, the high that comes from playing the game is something you're unable to pass up." He paused. "Isn't that true, slut-toy?" And even as the question was leaving his lips, his hand was pulling the flimsy fabric of her panties to the side to expose her pussy, even as his other hand was increasing the speed of the egg.

"Oh, cuckolds brownie," Amy gasped. And then, when her husbands fingers came into direct contact with her pussy, she gasped again. Then she closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip, trying to maintain some semblance of composure as he slipped the hood from her clit and began lightly stroking the swollen bud it concealed.

"Please, Brad," she managed to plead between breaths.

"I believe I asked you a question," Brad retorted. Then he switched the egg to full power and went hard to work on her button. "Do you or do you not like being dominated?" he fired, his voice suddenly taking on an even more demanding tone.

"I do!" Amy gasped, now writhing under her husband's dominance.

"And do you or do you not like being exposed and fondled in public?" he continued.

"I do!" Amy gasped again, even as she arched her pussy from the seat to bring it into greater contact with her attacker's hand.

"And do you or do you not like being made to cum by your Master?"

"Yessssssss!" she gasped, barely able to keep her voice below a scream as her body exploded in orgasm. "I doooooooooooo!"

And then the egg switched off and the hand slipped away, and a moment later the still gasping woman opened her eyes to see not only her husband sitting beside her, but their waitress and the manager standing in front of the table.

Amy's initial reaction was pure panic, her hands automatically scrambling to cover her pussy and panties with her skirt. It wasn't until that task was more or less accomplished that she turned to her husband, finding a sly little smile that bordered on a smirk where she'd expected to find a look more resembling the wide-eyed terror she was experiencing.

Once their eyes met, Brad offered his wife a curt nod of the head and a subtle little wink, and then redirected his gaze towards the uninvited guests before them. When Amy turned her head to follow her husband's eyes, taking a close look at the waitress and manager for the first time, she realized that they were at least as nervous and befuddled as she was.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you two to leave," the manger managed to say, shifting his gaze quickly back and forth between the two of them before finally settling on Amy. "I'll escort you to the door as soon as you finish putting yourself together."

Buoyed by her husband's sense of calm, Amy quickly began regaining her composure. She even began to feel a little bit feisty.

"So," she said to the manager, her bravado now very nearly back in full form. "You haven't seen enough yet? Now you're going to stand there and watch me get dressed?"

"Wwwwhat?" the manager stuttered. He hurriedly shifted his gaze to Brad, then back to Amy. Then he turned to the waitress, took hold of her arm, spun her around and pulled her away from the table, not stopping until the two of them were a good ten feet away and facing the other direction.

In actuality, it wasn't the act of redressing that was foremost on Amy's mind. Instead, she turned sideways so she was facing directly at her husband, then leaned against him, making sure to press her bosom hard against his side, even as she was sliding her hand down to his crotch. She couldn't help the shiver of anticipation that shot through her body when she realized that her husband's cock was rock hard.

"So, Master," she cooed softly into his ear as she rubbed his manhood. "Are you going to fuck me tonight, . . . or are you going to play your faggot card?"

For the briefest of moments an angry look flashed through Brad's eyes at his wife's slur, but it faded quickly when he saw the playful look that now occupied her face. Realizing then that she was embracing the game completely, a small smile slid to his face, even as he was sliding his hand inside her blouse to take hold of her breast.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Slut, when I'm damn good and ready to, and not one minute sooner." And then he squeezed her breast hard. "Understand?"

"Ow!," Amy gasped. Then she pushed herself away and playfully stuck her tongue out. Only then did she begin going about the business of putting herself back together, lifting her ass from the seat, repositioning her skirt and slipping the buttons through the holes.

Once the skirt properly attached, her hands reached instinctively for her blouse, taking the lowest button and slipping it through the hole. But then, even as she was reaching for the next button, she froze. And as a mischievous little smile slid across her lips, she dropped her fingers back to the lower button and undid it. And then she turned to look at her husband.

"Ready when you are, dear," she said in a mockingly sweet voice.

Brad snickered softly, then nodded his head approvingly and slid out of the booth. He turned and offered his hand to his wife, who slid out behind him without making the least effort to keep her skirt from riding up her legs, even as she was arching her back to put her ample chest even more on display than it already was.

Once on her feet, Amy turned to her husband and lifted her arm. "Master," she said, lowering her head submissively yet speaking in a voice not only loud enough for the waitress and manager to hear, but loud enough to turn a few heads in the main part of the restaurant, as well.

There was an approving smile on her husband's face as he slid his arm through hers. "This way, Slut," he replied in an equally loud voice. And then, in a very slow gait, he proceeded to make his way towards the front door, taking care to present a full frontal view of his wife to as many patrons as possible.

Once outside in the still warm early evening air, they turned and made their way to the overflow parking lot in silence, still arm in arm, looking for all the world like two normal people leaving a restaurant after a nice meal. That facade vanished the instant they reached the car, as Amy, knowing from her prior experience with Derek just exactly how secluded they were, decided it was time to take matters into her own hands.

Catching her husband completely off guard, Amy spun him around and shoved him against the side of the car. Then, before he had an opportunity to recover, she tossed her purse on the hood of the car, grabbed hold of the front of her blouse and ripped it open, sending the remaining two buttons flying to the ground, even as the garment was slipping down her arms and floating to the ground. Then the completely topless woman stepped forward and pressed her naked chest against her husband.

"You didn't answer my question," she started in a coarse, husky voice. "Are you going to fuck me, or are you going to play your faggot card?"

Brad had read about the blow job Amy had given Derek right in this very spot, and he'd seen the parking lot earlier and knew just exactly how deserted it was. But he also knew that it was not at all unusual for Murphy's to start getting busy between eight and nine, at which point the overflow parking lot could suddenly become much busier than they'd like. But eight o'clock was still well over an hour away, he reamistered. And besides, he had to admit that seeing his wife completely bare her upper body in a public place was sparking feelings inside him unlike any he'd ever experienced.

He took a deep breath and looked around furtively, confirming that were there no people and only one other parked car in sight. And then he turned his eyes back to his wife, who by now was rubbing herself wantonly against him, even as her hand was drifting down to his crotch in search of his hidden treasure.

It was Amy's hand coming into contact with his crotch that finally snapped him from his daze and stirred him to action, moving him to once again reclaim control of the night. He grabbed his wife's arm and pulled it away from his pants, then he slid his own hands between their bodies, grabbed hold of the front of her skirt and ripped it open. Before the skirt could even reach the ground, he grabbed hold of her biceps and spun her around, not stopping until their positions were completely reversed and her backside was pressed against the side of the car. Then he backed away just enough to grab hold of her panties and rip them down her legs. That's when he reached behind her head, grabbed hold of a tuft of hair and pulled her away from the car. Then he spun her around and guided her to the side of the hood, pushing her chest downward until it was pressing against the hood. Only then did he release her hair and take two small steps backwards.

A short pause followed, a pause aimed not so much at allowing Brad to regain his composure or admire his handiwork as it was at allowing his wife's lust and hunger to build. Even so, he couldn't help taking a moment to take in the erotic sight before him -- his wife, now dressed in nothing but a pair of high heel shoes with dainty ankle straps, bent over the hood of her own car in the back corner of a public parking lot. Just the thought of it was enough to cause a shiver to shoot through his body.

Several seconds passed before Brad stepped up to her left side, placed his left hand on her back and his right on her ass. Then he pulled his right hand away, detouring just long enough to switch the egg on high, before returning his hand quickly and firmly to her ass -- WHACK!!!

Amy gasped, her body jerking against the hand on her back as the egg sprang into life and the blow landed firmly on her buttocks.

"It seems to me you're getting a little uppity for a slut-toy," she heard Brad comment, even as she felt him withdraw his hand and -- WHACK!!! -- deliver a second blow to her buttocks.

"Oh, cuckolds brownie!' she groaned, instinctively pushing her ass back against his hand.

"First, you take not one," -- WHACK!!! -- "but two young men as your Masters," -- WHACK!!! -- he continued, even as she continued her wincing and groaning beneath him.

"Then you deceive me," WHACK!!!

". . . and argue with me," WHACK!!!

". . . and sass me." WHACK!!!

"Oh, my God," Amy gasped, her shaking body hovering dangerously close to release.

"And then, to top it all off," he said, leaning down to her ear, "you call me a faggot!" WHACK!!! WHACK!!! WHACK!!!

That's when Amy lost it, her body exploding in her second orgasm, jerking spasmodically before slumping to the car as her husband delivered yet another blow to her rear end -- WHACK!!!

Brad switched the egg off and backed slowly away. Then, as the last few shudders were working their way through Amy's body, he kicked off his shoes and began undoing his belt. It was less than a handful of seconds later when, now naked from the waist down, he slipped up behind his wife, pulled the wire that was attached to the egg, removing the now quiet ovate object from her dripping pussy and tossing it nonchalantly towards her purse. Then he brought his very erect cock to the gates of her womanhood and eased the tip just inside, moving his left hand quickly to her back when she instinctively jumped at his intrusion.

"So, you want to get fucked by a faggot, do you?" he said, slipping his cock out of her pussy and rubbing it over her swollen lips.

"Yessss," came the guttural response.

Brad smiled to himself. "Yes, what?' he questioned, even as he eased the head of his cock back into her pussy before quickly withdrawing it.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Amy groaned wantonly before lifting her head and turning back to her husband. "Yes, Master," she wheezed. "I want to get fucked by a faggot." And then she dropped her head back to the hood and, in a voice that left no doubt that the game was finally over, whispered, "Please . . ."

"So be it, slut," he replied. And then he eased his meat back to the gates of her hunger, slid his hands to her hips, hesitated briefly, and slammed his cock home, clutching onto her hips as she pushed her chest off the hood and let out a yelp that was loud enough to be heard at the other end of the lot.

Brad began pounding his meat into his wife, to far gone to be concerned with any danger Amy's scream may have presented. He slid his hands up her sides and around to her breasts, grabbing hold of the pendulous orbs and pulling her towards his chest, even as he continued to attack her, thrusting into her pussy even as she pressed her pussy back in opposition.

They were both grunting now, overwhelmed by the hunger and lust their little game had stirred up, neither concerned with anything other than satisfying their pure naturalistic needs. It was no wonder that, as fiery and hot and rough as their assault on each other had been, it was equally short, with both of them exploding at very nearly the same time.

Their body's went nearly rigid as they jerked the final spasms from their systems. When Amy's body finally went limp, she slumped forward, her breasts slipping from Brad's hands as she settled back to the hood of the car. An instant later Brad fell forward on top of her, supporting the majority of his weight on his elbows. And for several moments that's how they stayed, each struggling to refill their lungs with air and quiet the pounding in their hearts.

Eventually Brad pushed himself from the hood and backed away, followed a second later by Amy, who pushed herself upright and turned to face her husband.

"Wow," she said in barely more than a whisper as she slid forward into his arms.

They held each other for some time, her still naked, him naked from the waist down, neither with a care or concern for anything but the other. They were nearly completely recovered when Brad slid his hands to Amy's hips, turned her slightly and backed her up so her backside was pressing against the passenger door. Then, as a sly smile made its way across his lips, he lowered his right hand to her left thigh and lifted it towards his waist.

"Well, well," Amy smiled, rocking her pussy slowly against him. "Who say's you can't teach an old dog new tricks." And with that, she wrapped her arms firmly around his shoulders and lifted her right leg, wrapping it around his waist and locking it with her left. A soft coo left her throat as she felt Brad easing his cock against her pussy. And then, while leaning against the side of the car in an overflow parking lot, they made soft, tender love for the first time in a very, very long time.

* * *

They'd both climaxed some time earlier, yet neither was willing to let the other go. It was as if they both finally realized that, as much as they'd always loved and needed each other, something had been missing in their lives, and having only now rediscovered it, they weren't quite willingly to let it go -- at least not just yet.

It was a pair of headlights sweeping into the parking lot that finally got their attention, bringing the two of them instantly awake. They held their position, bodies together, arms wrapped around each other, and listened . . . and waited.

Although they couldn't see the car, they could tell that it had come to rest in a parking spot some ways away. The engine went off and the doors opened, and then the sound of young men's voices began filling the air.

About 30 seconds passed before the cars doors closed. It was that long again before the voices were finally far enough away for Amy and Brad to exhale the breaths they'd been holding.

"Maybe we should start thinking about getting out of here," Brad offered. Amy smiled and nodded her head, before reluctantly releasing her arms from Brad's neck and easing from his hug.

She looked around, quickly locating her discarded clothes. She went for the blouse first and slipped it on, and then realized the buttons were no longer attached. Her panties had landed in a muddy, greasy spot and no longer looked fit to be worn. Her skirt, although also ripped in several places and missing its buttons, was nonetheless clean enough to at least keep her pussy from dripping on the seat.

She smiled to herself, sighed softly and turned towards Brad, who had just finished fastening his pants and slipping on the belt.

"Maybe we should take the the back roads home," she said.

Brad looked at his still mostly naked wife and smiled. "Yeah, I think that might be a good idea."

It had been two and-a-half months since Stuart Chambers first took Kara Johnmister as his slut-toy, and a day more than that since he'd taken Amy Marshall, another middle-aged friend of his lady's. Yet even now, every time he thought of it a large, cuckolds brownie-eating grin came to his face. After all, he had what other guys didn't even dare to dream of; two constantly horny women at his beck and call who would do anything he demanded without hesitation and without question. It was better -- far better -- then anything he'd ever dared dream of. The only problem -- other than finding the energy to keep both of them satisfied -- was keeping his secret from his lady. After all, what was the likelihood that she'd understand, let alone approve?

* * *

Pamela Chambers, Stuart's lady, pulled her car into the parking spot a couple minutes past noon and turned off the engine. As most women do, she then proceeded to check her appearance in the mirror, primping her hair and making certain her lipstick was applied just right. Only after her appearance passed this essential scrutiny did she grab her purse, exit the car and head for the mall entrance.

She was making her way through the center-court, headed for her favorite store, when she spotted what appeared to be the back of her mister about thirty yards in front of her.

"Stuart," she called out. But her call went unheeded.

She picked up her pace and tried to close the gap. But before she could catch him, he turned into a woman's lingerie store. That was when she first noticed the girl -- make that woman -- he was with.

She slowed her pace, fairly certain the young man would not appreciate running into his lady at a time like this. But before she could turn away and start down another wing, she saw Stuart's hand slide to the woman's ass and guide her to the side, turning her so her profile was towards Pamela.

"On, my god!" Pamela gasped, lifting her hand instinctively to cover her mouth when she realized that the ass her mister's hand was on was none other than Kara Johnmister's, her best friend. Pamela looked around nervously, then slid behind a nearby fake tree and returned her attention to the store.

She watched her mister guide Kara to an underwear display, where he pointed out a pair of tie-side thongs. Then, to her even greater dismay, she watched him pick a pair off the rack and hand it to her.

After that he led her to a part of the store she couldn't see, but when they emerged three minutes later, Kara was holding a frilly black bra while Stuart was holding a very tiny, very revealing nightie. When the two stepped up to the counter to pay, Pamela turned and quickly made her way back to the mall entrance and out to her car.

It wasn't until she was safely inside the car that she finally had a chance to gather her wits and really think about what she'd just seen. Her mister -- that sweet, innocent young man -- was being used as the permisteral play toy of her heretofore best friend, a 38 year-old divorcee.

"Damn you, Kara Johnmister," she spat. "Damn you to hell!" And with that she started the car, threw it into gear and made a bee-line straight for her house.

* * *

Pamela Chambers -- who in point-of-fact was Stuart's step-lady, having been the young's guardian since shortly after his man died barely a year into their marriage -- spent the majority of the afternoon pacing the floor and wondering how she should deal with her new-found knowledge. She had no doubt how Stuart would react if she tried broaching the subject with him, so that avenue was clearly out. Yet it was equally obvious that she couldn't just let it lay. After all, he was just a kid; that barracuda she used to call her best friend would chew him up and spit him out. How could she -- his Mother -- let that happen?

She took a deep breath, held it briefly, then let it out. There was really only one option. She had to confront Kara, and she had to do it the first chance she got.

* * *

It was a bit after 5:00 when Stuart finally made it home.

"Hello," he shouted as he entered through the side door. "Anyone home?"

Pamela, who'd been waiting nervously in the family room, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm in here."

Stuart rounded the corner and found his step-lady sitting on the sofa against the far wall. He smiled at the only lady he could remember, the woman he called 'lady' with as much love as any young man could have for their lady. To him, as to her, red made no difference. They were as much lady and mister as anyone.

"Hi, Mom" Stuart he said lightly, entering the room and plopping himself down in his favorite recliner. "I'm famished. What's for dinner."

"Meatloaf, baked potatoes and salad," she answered. "It'll be ready in about 45 minutes."

"Great," he replied, pushing himself to his feet. "That give's me enough time to shower and change."

"Are you going out tonight?"

"Just over to Ralph's," he answered. "I told you last night, remember? The Texas Hold 'em party?"

It was 6:15 when they finished dinner, and 7:00 when Stuart finally left the house. Fifteen minutes after that, a determined and quite angry Pamela Chambers, dressed in a blue jean skirt, a peach colored cami with no bra and a simple pair of sandals, also left the house.

* * *

"Pamela," Kara said as she pulled the door part way open. "I wasn't expecting you. Is something wrong?"

"Can I come in?" Pamela replied bluntly.

Kara looked nervously into her house, then back towards her friend. "Actually, I have plans tonight and I'm running a bit late."

"It'll only take a minute."

Another hesitation followed before Kara gave a nervous shrug and pulled the door fully open. "Okay, but just for a minute."

Kara led her friend into the living room, then turned to face her. "What's going on, Pamela?" And that's when Kara's worst fear became reality.

"You bitch! How could you?" Pamela screamed in response, unleashing the anger she'd been struggling to hold in.

"What are you talking about," Kara retorted with a feigned look of innocence.

"Don't give me that cuckolds brownie! You know exactly what I'm talking about," came the frantic response. "You and Stuart!"

And there it was, out in the open at last.

Silence ruled the room for a moment, each woman staring at the other -- Pamela with fire in her eyes, Kara with a look of total dismay. Finally Kara managed a deep breath and tried to plead her case.

"I'm so sorry, Pamela. I know I should have exercised better judgment. It's just that . . ."

"Exercised better judgment?" Pamela shot back. "Why you little slut! You're nothing but a cheap whore."

"Pamela, please," Kara pleaded. "It's not what you think."

"Oh, it's not, is it?" Stuart's mom retorted, taking an aggressive step towards the other woman. "Then you're not relaxing with my baby?"

Kara staggered back from her friend, bumping into the edge of the sofa and falling onto the cushion.

"Well?" Pamela fired out, stepping forward so she was towering above the now seated, cringing woman. "Are you fucking him or not?"

Several seconds of silence followed. "Yes," Kara finally replied. "I am."

"And are you or are you not old enough to be his lady?"

Again, a soft 'yes' slid from Kara's mouth as she lowered her head in shame.

"Then enlighten me," Pamela continued, keeping up the pressure. "How, exactly, is it not what I think?"

The answer, when it came a few seconds later, did not come from in front of Pamela, but behind her, and it did not come from Kara's mouth, but from that of her mister.

"If you'll shut up and stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, I'll tell you."

Pamela nearly jumped out of her skin as she raised herself away from Kara and turned to face her mister. "Stuart? You're supposed to be playing cards tonight?"

The initial feeling of shock and surprise that Stuart had felt when he first saw his lady's car pulling into the driveway had quickly given way to a feeling of unbridled anger as he listened to the woman that had raised him unleash her verbal tirade on his slut-toy. Yet despite his rage, somewhere deep inside he knew there was a right way to handle the situation. And it was with great effort that he struggled to hold his temper in check.

"It's not her fault," he said in a very slow voice.

"Not her fault?" Pamela questioned, her mouth hanging agape at her mister's ridiculous statement. And then she turned to look into Kara's eyes. "Why, she's nothing but a two-bit tramp."

And in spite of his efforts to control his temper, when he heard his mom call Kara a two-bit tramp, Stuart lost it.

"And just what the fuck entitles you to be her judge and jury?" he exploded. "You don't know the first thing about our relationship." So much for handling things 'the right way.'

The look in her mister's eyes at that instant was unlike any look Pamela had ever seen, and without even realizing it she took a small step backwards. She tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly developed in her throat, then opened her mouth to answer his verbal query.

"I'm your lady!" she replied with all the false bravado she could muster. "That's what entitles me to be her judge and jury. And as far as not knowing what's going on, I saw it with my own two eyes at the mall this afternoon."

Stuart clinched his jaw tightly, struggling to maintain his composure. But when he turned his head towards his slut-toy and saw the stunned, glazed-over look in her eyes as she sat there shaking visibly, he nearly lost it on the spot.

He closed his eyes and fought the urge to lash out at his lady, taking long, slow breaths until he managed to regain some sort of control. When he finally opened his eyes again and looked into the vacant eyes of his slut-toy, he knew what had to be done. And with a small part of him screaming out in outrage at what was about to happen, he turned back to his lady, his anger now strangely lessened, replaced by a feeling eerily similar to the one he felt when he was about to enpower his will on Kara or Amy.

He took a challenging step towards his lady, powering her to back into the front of the wing chair that sat opposite the sofa, then took another step forward, powering her to lower herself into the chair before him. Then he leaned forward, placed a hand on each of the arms of the chair and spoke in a voice that was so strained it sent shivers down his lady's spine.

"You may have seen two people at the mall, but you did not see what you think you saw."

Pamela was in a state of shock at how events were unfolding. She'd come here to confront Kara, but instead found herself at odds with Stuart. She'd intended to do whatever was necessary to protect her mister from that tramp she used to call friend, but now found herself cringing helplessly. Still, she managed to gather herself for one more retort.

"I saw my innocent mister being led down a very dangerous path by a woman that's twice his age and supposed to be my best friend," she whispered. "What else was there to see?"

By way of response, Stuart leaned even closer, then spoke in a voice Pamela had to struggle to hear. "The truth," he said simply. Then, without turning his gaze away from his lady, he spoke again, only this time his words were not directed at Pamela.

"Slut-toy, stand up!" he barked.

It's hard to imagine how such a simple combination of words could have had more impact on two women. For Kara, it was her worst nightmare come true. The young man she called Master was calling her forward in the very presence of his lady. She found herself paralyzed by his words, unable to obey his command, yet somehow not willing to argue it. So instead she just sat there, frozen, unable to counteract the flood of emotions that were overwhelming her senses.

For Pamela, the words were a sudden revelation. There was no mistaking the look in her mister's eyes, nor was there any mistaking the tone of his voice when he asked -- no, ordered -- the other woman to stand up. 'Slut-toy,' he'd called her, the words spoken by someone who had every confidence that he'd be obeyed. And when Pamela shifted her eyes from her mister to her former best friend, she knew the truth the instant she saw the look in her face.

She shifted her gaze back to Stuart. "I . . ."

"Silence!" Stuart barked, sending his lady cringing further into the chair. "You came here with accusations, now you're going to learn the truth, the real truth." Then he turned his head just enough so he could see Kara and spoke again.

"I thought I told you to stand up, slut-toy."

Kara's stomach was in knots, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She lifted her eyes just enough to look in her young master's direction, then took a furtive look towards Pamela as she struggled to cope with her predicament. If she did nothing, she risked losing not only her best friend, but her Master as well. Yet if she obeyed him, the resulting emotional scar could mar each of their lives for as long as they lived. She took a deep breath, then released it. And as the air streamed slowly from her lungs, she realized that, above all else, she could not deal with losing Stuart. So, still not completely certain she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life, she lifted herself slowly to her feet.

"Yes, Master," she said in a near whisper. But it was a whisper that nearly shook the house to it's foundation.

In contrast to Kara's whispered words, the gasp that left Pamela's mouth was nearly ear shattering. "Oh, my God," she cried, instinctively moving to rise to her feet. But before she was hardly able to move, Stuart's hand was on her shoulder, holding her back.

"I told you you were going to learn the truth," Stuart said in a soft, yet somehow threatening voice, "and that's exactly what you're going to do. Now, sit down and don't move again until I dismiss you. Understand?"

Now it was Pamela's stomach that was in knots; Pamela's heart that was beating out of control in her chest as the young man she'd raised since the age of two leered over her, now clearly in control of the room and everyone in it, including her. What's worse, she knew his one word question hadn't been a rhetorical one. He did, indeed, expect an acknowledgment. So, after taking a nervous breath, she nodded her head slowly.

"Yes," she replied in a raspy voice. "I understand."

"Good," he said with a small nod. Then he turned towards Kara. "Remove your clothes, slut-toy."

It was a command his slut-toy had feared was was coming, and one his lady was completely unprepared for. Yet when it came neither woman made a sound, the only things betraying their emotions being the look of shock on Pamela's face and a look that somehow encompassed both fear and lust on Kara's.

Several long seconds passed before Kara was able to draw her eyes away from Pamela and look at her Master. Then, knowing Pamela's eyes were still locked directly on her, she finally acknowledged the order.

"Yes, Master." Then she lifted her hands to her blouse and began releasing the buttons.

Pamela watched in stunned silence as Kara's trembling hands went to work. She watched the hands as they moved nervously from one button to the next at a steady, albeit slow, pace, continuing the process until the last button finally fell free. Then she watched her shrug her shoulders awkwardly and send the garment slipping down her arms and floating to the floor.

A fog seemed to be settling over Pamela's brain as she continued to sit there, mesmerized by the the events that were unfolding around her. She was in such a state, in fact, that she failed to notice that the nervousness in Kara's actions was slowly giving way to a hunger that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

In truth, the change in Kara over the last few moments had been staggering. The shock and confusion that had ruled the earlier part of the encounter had given way to shame, offense and embarrassment when Stuart ordered her to her feet. Then, when he ordered her to remove her clothing, the shame, offense and embarrassment were joined by a very strong dose of fear.

There was no denying that her trembling fingers had made it difficult for her to slip the first two buttons through the button holes. In fact, her fingers were still trembling when she finally freed the last button, but by then the fear and shame had begun giving way to an eerie kind of excitement, an excitement that bordered on arousal.

With her heart pounding wildly in her chest, she let the blouse slip off her shoulders, slide down her arms and flutter to the floor. And when her fingers finally reached the clasp on her pants, her juices that were flowing freely in her pussy.

By the time she began sliding her pants over her hips, her whole demeanor had changed. That she was still in a mental daze was an undeniable fact, that she was nervous and scared a certainty. But now there was no denying the excitement, no denying the arousal . . . and no denying the lust.

Aware that Pamela's eyes were glued to her body, Kara wiggled her way slowly out of her pants, using a bit more hip action than necessary to kick the garment from her feet and across the floor. Then, while standing there in nothing but her bra and panties, she looked to Stuart for confirmation that she was to continue. And while there was no denying that a part of her was hoping he'd say enough was enough, a larger part of her was clearly yearning for more -- more shame, more fear, more excitement . . . and much more lust.

It was the lust part that got its way as Stuart gave a short, but somehow emphatic nod of his head, a nod that caused a sexual shock wave to shoot through Kara's body and nearly buckle her knees. Then, even as the lustful haze that was filling her mind grew stronger, she turned her gaze back to Pamela.

It was at that moment -- the moment she turned her head and caught Pamela staring directly at the damp spot in her panties with her mouth hanging open -- that Kara realized that the situation was affecting her friend at least as much as it was affecting her. But it wasn't until her friend managed to lift her gaze from the damp spot to reveal the glazed over look in her eyes that the true meaning of what that meant filtered through to her brain. And another quiver shook her womanhood.

But Kara didn't allow herself to dwell on Pamela's discomfort. Instead, she let the smile slip from her face as she eased her hands behind her back and released the bra clasp. A moment later the bra was on the floor and her beautiful breasts were on full display, complete with erect nipples sticking out brave and proud in front of them. And when she saw Pamela's jaw drop almost to her chest as her eyes took in the majesty of her 36-D's, she almost orgasmed on the spot.

By this time, the newly released slut in Kara had taken complete complete control of her emotions. No longer was there any concern for her pride or dignity. No more did she care where she was or who was watching. She didn't even care that the other two people in the room were lady and mister. The only thing that mattered to her as she slid her hands slowly up her tummy and onto her tits was the burning hunger that was consuming her. And as she squeezed her mounds roughly and pinched her nipples, a sharp gasp escaped her mouth.

She held that position for several moments, squeezing and massaging her breasts, rolling her hips and breathing heavily, not releasing the orbs until she had Pamela squirming uneasily in the chair. Then, with a slowness intended to magictize the already stunned woman and push her even closer to the edge, she eased her hands towards her panties, slipped her thumbs in the waistband and eased the damp, flimsy item ever so slowly over her hips and down her legs.

~

From Stuart's point of view, things had started out pretty much the way he thought they would when he ordered his slut-toy to her feet. He'd expected the initial reluctance that Kara had displayed, but had had every confidence that, when it got right down to it, her craving for the rush that came from her offense and embarrassment would prove to much to resist. And once she did give in to her lust, he knew her initial actions would be tentative, but would grow more confident as her state of arousal increased.

And also as he'd expected, his slut-toy had obeyed him completely, and by so doing clearly demonstrated the extent of domination he held over her to his lady. Now, not even his lady could deny just how wrong she'd been about their relationship. And now that that was established, it was time to send his lady scampering home with her tail between her legs so he could take care of unfinished business with his slut-toy. After all, Kara had been most obedient today, and obedient slut-toys should always be rewarded!

He wondered briefly if he hadn't been too cruel to his lady, if maybe his actions hadn't been a little over the top. But he pushed the thought quickly from his mind. 'No!' he thought emphatically. After all, she'd started it by sticking her nose in where it didn't belong. And besides, it wasn't as if it was her he'd ordered to undress. No, she was getting exactly what she deserved for barging in with help that was neither asked for nor desired.

But even before he could vanquish that thought from his mind, even before he could go back to patting himself on the back for pegging Kara's responses so perfectly, things took an unexpected turn -- a most unexpected turn.

~

Kara, now completely naked but for the damp panties lying around her ankles, stood as steady as her pounding heart and lust-filled pussy would let her as both Stuart and his lady looked on. She knew what she was supposed to do, she was supposed to turn towards her Master and await his next instruction. And if it hadn't been for the completely unexpected effect her submissive strip-show had had on Pamela, not to mention the equally unexpected effect Pamela's reaction to it had had on her, that's exactly what she would have done.

But she had had an effect on her obviously lust-dazed friend, and that in turn, had kindled an equally strong lust in her. It was a dizzying lust, a hungry lust. But mostly, it was a lust that needed to be acted on. And with or without Master's permission, that's exactly what Kara intended to do. So, after one final calming breath, she stepped out of her panties and moved to the front of Pamela's chair, then she leaned over, took hold of Pamela's hands and began backing away.

The look on Pamela's face as Kara began pulling her to her feet was one of absolute stark terror. Instinctively, she pulled her hands back, holding her position in the chair.

But Kara, with a sultry smile on her face, reached for them again, this time holding them firmly enough to prevent Pamela from withdrawing them easily. And again she began backing slowly away.

"Please don't," Pamela pleaded softly. But even as the words were slipping through her lips, she found herself rising to her feet, then allowing Kara to turn her so her back was to her mister.

"I shouldn't have come," Pamela continued desperately. "I know that now, and I'm sorry. If you'll just let me leave, we can forget the whole thing." But in spite of her words, she made no effort to turn for the door. She didn't, in fact, even try to withdraw her hands from Kara's grasp.

"Really? You can forget the whole thing?" Kara challenged. "You can forget that your mister is my Master? And you can forget that he ordered me to undress in front of you?" She eased herself closer to her friend, then released her hands and brushed a few stray strands of hair from Pamela's face. When she spoke again her face was so close Pamela could feel her breath on her face.

"And you can forget how you felt as you watched me undress, how you felt when you first saw my naked breasts, or how you felt when you saw my pussy and realized that I was at least as excited as you were? You can forget all that, Pamela? Really?"

Pamela opened her mouth to argue, but closed it without uttering a sound. What was the point? Truth was she couldn't forget it, and Kara and Stuart both knew it. Even if they were to allow her to walk out the door right then and there, she would never be able to forget the events that transpired there that evening. And she certainly wouldn't be able to forget the effect they'd had on her.

So, instead of putting up an argument she could never win, she took a deep breath and swallowed the lump that had somehow become lodged in her throat..

"It isn't right," she finally answered. "It just isn't right."

Kara continued running her hands through Pamela's hair, then brushed her fingers across her cheek. "It's as right as we want it to be," she finally answered. Then she slid her hands down to Pamela's hips, leaned forward and began nibbling on her ear. A moment after that she forsook the ear for the neck, sliding her lips down to plant soft little kisses up and down its length.

"Noooooooooo," Pamela whispered desperately as her whole body shuddered. But she offered no further argument, and the effort she made to push Kara away was feeble, at best.

Pamela was finding it increasingly difficult to resist her friend's advances as her body continued to betray her. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to quiet the urges she was feeling as Kara made soft, easy love to her neck and ear, nor could she suppress the soft moans that managed to sneak through her lips. In another place or another time, she reluctantly acknowledged, who knows what could happen. But not here, not now, and certainly not with Stuart standing only a few feet away.

'Stuart!' she groaned silently as thoughts of her mister lept back into her mind.

She lifted her hands to Kara's head and pushed it from her neck. "I can't do this, Kara," she said, her cracking voice betraying the emotions that were tearing her apart.

"Yes," Kara whispered softly back. "You can." Then she moved her hands to Pamela's shoulders and began caressing them tenderly. "You want it as bad as I do. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your body."

"But Stuart," she countered, leaving the sentence hanging.

"He understands," Kara replied. "Of all people, your mister understands."

Pamela struggled for words, desperately seeking that one defense that would not only free her physically, but emotionally as well, anything that would allow her to understand and counter the emotional war she was waging -- and losing.

"Please," she finally whimpered, offering the only words that came to mind. "I'm not like that. I'm not a lesbian."

Kara slid her fingers inside the spaghetti straps that held Pamela's cami up, then began easing them to the edge of her shoulders. "I know you're not," she whispered as she allowed the straps to slide freely down her arms. "Neither am I."

Pamela felt her heart leap into her throat as the straps slid from her shoulders. She again tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she lowered her head, allowing her eyes to verify what her mind already knew -- her cami was bunched around her waist and her breasts were completely uncovered.

She closed her eyes, bit down on her lower lip and took a deep breath. Later, she'd look back on that moment and realize that the thought of covering her nakedness never entered her mind. But that would be later. At the moment, all she could find the strength to do was open her eyes, ease her head up and look into her Kara's eyes, knowing that her mister was standing a few feet behind her, staring at her naked back.

~

Believe it or not, Stuart was at least as shocked as his lady at the actions that had recently transpired. If he had to put a label to it, he'd call it Kara's coming out party; the first time since her 'awakening' that she'd been with anyone other than Derek, himself and -- on the few occasions when both of Stuart's slut-toys were included in his games at the same time -- Amy. And never -- not with Derek, not with Stuart, not with Amy -- had Kara ever taken an aggressive posture. And while it was true that the events of the evening had started out a bit awkwardly for her, the end result was undeniable. Kara had not just come out of her shell, she'd shattered it, bringing all her hunger, all her needs, and all her pent up naturalistic lust with her. And the victim of it all . . . was none other than his own lady.

But as surprised as he was at his slut-toy's actions, he was even more surprised at his lady's. To Stuart, Pamela Chambers had always been just his lady, not a real woman with real sexual needs and yearnings. But clearly that was a real woman standing before him and just as clearly she did have real sexual needs, needs that -- from his permisteral observation -- hadn't been fulfilled since his man died almost 16 years before.

Sixteen years, he thought. No wonder she'd been so vulnerable to Kara's attack.

But his surprise went beyond even that. If he were powerd to be vulgarly honest, there was no way he could deny the excitement he was feeling as he his lady surrendered to the sexual advances of another woman. Nor could he deny that it wasn't his slut-toy his eyes were glued to, it was his lady. And despite the parent-young relationship they shared, he couldn't deny the arousal building inside him any more than he could deny the throbbing he'd felt in his pants when he watched her top slide down her torso.

~

Pamela lifted her eyes from her exposed breasts. Too shocked to speak, she stared into Kara's eyes in stunned disbelief, her breathing now coming in short, shallow gasps. Finally, she gathered herself enough to utter one simple word.

"Stuart?"

Kara reached up and tenderly took Pamela's face in her hands, brushing her cheeks lightly with her thumbs. "You should see him," she said in barely more than a whisper. "I've never seen him so on edge before."

"No," Pamela gasped, instinctively, reaching to cover her breasts.

Kara laughed lightly, then released her face, gently took hold of her arms and eased them back to her sides. "That's a good thing," she teased. Then she lifted her hands and lightly trailed her fingertips across Pamela's naked nipples.

A low, guttural sound escaped Pamela's throat as Kara's fingers traced their way across her aroused tips. Then, when those same fingers slid lightly over the meat of her bosom, a shiver shot down her spine, even as goosebumps were breaking out across her flesh. And as a deep sigh escaped her lips, she allowed her eyes to slide closed, giving herself over to the gentle pleasure the fingers were providing.

Although vaguely aware of the passage of time as she stood there, Pamela made no move to alter her circumstance. And when the question drifted through the back of her mind -- was this surrender? -- she ignored it, pushing it from her mind unanswered.

She became aware that Kara's hands were leaving her breasts, moving to her arms where they gently lifted each one and slipped them from the cami's straps.

Feeling Kara's naked breasts pressing against her own, Pamela opened her eyes, only to close them again as Kara reached around her waist and fumred with the snap of her blue jean skirt. She kept them closed as the skirt slid over her hips and down her legs. But when the hands slid inside the top of her cami and began easing the garment over her hips, hooking inside the waistband of her panties as they went, she opened them again. Then, in response to the last little voice still screaming inside her head, she reached out to stop the hands from completing their task.

A silent standoff ensued, a standoff that saw the two women staring into each other's eyes, neither speaking, neither moving. The standoff reached the 5 second mark; neither moved. It stretched to 10 seconds, then beyond. It wasn't until it was nearing the 20 second mark that Pamela finally allowed a deep sigh of resignation to pass her lips. A moment later her hands were again at her sides, and a moment after that she was naked, a pile of no longer needed clothes lying at her feet.

Kara moved quicker now, sliding her hands up the woman's sides, then onto her C-cup breasts. She pinched the nipples hard, squeezing and kneading the heaving breasts roughly as Pamela grabbed hold of her hips and fell against her.

"Oh my god," Pamela gasped, desperately trying to keep her wobbly legs from giving out, even as her friend continued working her tits. "Oh my god."

Kara released the breasts without warning, but she was far from done. She moved her left hand behind Pamela's head, grabbed a tuft of hair and pulled her head back, even as she was pulling her naked body closer against her own. Then she eased her right hand between their bodies and slid her fingers to the edge of her friend's dripping cunt. Then she slammed them in.

"Aaarrggghhhhhhhhhhhh," Pamela cried out as the fingers dove into her pussy. But instead of withdrawing them and slamming them home again, Kara held them there as she leaned her face closer to her victim.

"So, do you understand now?" she asked.

"What?" Pamela gasped. "I don't know . . . what you mean."

Kara pulled her friend closer, if that was possible, then eased her mouth to her ear. She bit lightly on the ear lobe and ran her tongue around the inside of the ear. Then she continued.

"Do you understand what it's like to want something your mind is telling you you shouldn't have, and to want it so badly that nothing else matters, not even that it's the mister of your best friend?" She hesitated, then twisted her hair a bit more and ground her fingers deeper into her pussy. "And not even if it's your best friend herself, with your mister standing nearby watching your surrender?"

"Please, Kara," Pamela groaned, her body writhing under the assault. "Please don't make me."

"Answer the question, Pamela!" Kara countered with a touch of softness in her voice. "It's the only thing that will set you free."

Then she relaxed her grasp of her hair, relieving some of the tension on her neck. But she did not remove her fingers from her pussy. "Do you understand what it's like to be a slut-toy, or not?" she whispered.

With redness in her eyes and a small tear sneaking from the corner of her eye, Pamela nodded her head as best she could. "Yes," she responded weakly. "I do."

A sly smile slid across Kara's face. "In that case, slut-toy," she started, "allow me to introduce you to . . . Master." And with that, she withdrew her fingers from Pamela's pussy, took hold of her arm and spun her around until she was facing directly at her mister. Then she reached around her, returned her right hand to her pussy and slammed her fingers home.

"Oh cuckolds brownie!" Pamela yelled out, closing her eyes and grabbing desperately for any part of Kara's body she could reach as an orgasm ripped her body.

After a few moments, Pamela was able to regather herself. She realized that Kara had withdrawn her right hand from her pussy and was now tracing her fingers lightly over her body. She eased her eyes open slowly, only to find Stuart standing a bit less than ten feet away with his eyes takeing in her nakedness, watching as Kara's fingers toyed with her aroused body.

A shiver shot through her and a hollow emptiness took possession of her stomach as she watched her mister examine her in a way no mister should ever be allowed to do. She watched him as he looked her over carefully -- all of her -- and watched as his eyes lingered on her breasts and on her center. It wasn't until he lifted his eyes to hers, however, that she noticed that the uncertainty and anger that had possessed him earlier was gone, replaced by a confidence she'd never seen in him before, a confidence that said without question, 'I am the Master! I am the Man!'

"It looks like Master approves," Kara whispered in her ear from behind, breaking her reverie. Then she twisted her hair again and pulled her down to her knees, tilting her head backwards so she was looking up backwards at her face while her front was on open display to her mister.

"But you're not for Master," she whispered, "you're for me." Then she reached down, grabbed hold of her right breast and squeezed. "Aren't you?"

"Ugghhhh," was the only response she got.

Pamela was rapidly losing all contact with sanity as Kara toyed with her mercilessly, leading her on an emotional roller-coaster, eliciting emotions she never knew she had. She'd thought that once she was naked, once she'd been thoroughly shamed and humiliated in front of her mister, and once she'd been thrown over the edge of orgasmic bliss while her mister looked on, that the worst might be over.

She was wrong. And as yet another shiver shot down her spine, she realized that, not only was she no longer in control of her own destiny, she no longer cared.

"Crawl," Kara ordered, her voice breaking through her thoughts even as the hand in her hair was steering her towards the coffee table and giving a small push of encouragement, powering her to knee-walk across the carpeted floor, not stopping until Kara pulled back on her hair when she reached the end of the coffee table.

"Turn around, sit on the edge of the table and spread your legs," Kara continued, pulling up on her hair to ensure her speedy obedience, a gesture which proved unnecessary as Pamela immediately moved to comply, even opening her legs to her mister without protest.

"Now, lay back and hold your hands over your head," Kara ordered, finally releasing her hold on Pamela's hair.

Pamela lowered her backside to the table without comment, then stretched her arms over her head until she was spread out and exposed like she'd never been before. She looked up at the two people standing over her, first catching Kara's eyes, then her mister's. And goosebumps once again broke out across her body.

"Now it's play time," Kara said, sliding between Pamela's wide-spread legs and dropping to her knees.

Kara slid her fingers across Pamela's tummy, dragging them lightly down her sides. A smile crossed her lips when she saw the new slut-toy jump. "Ticklish," she commented matter-of-factly. "I'll have to remember that." Then she gave her sides a small goosing, sending Pamela to another writhing retreat.

But it wasn't a tickling that interested Kara right then, as became evident when she slid her hands to the inside of Pamela's thighs and pushed them wider, and then slid the hands back to the heart of her womanhood and slipped two fingers from one hand into the already cum-soaked pussy while two fingers from the other hand slid the hood off of her love button. Then she lowered her head.

When her friend's tongue flicked across her clit, Pamela almost lost it on the spot. "Oh, cuckolds brownie," she cried out, instinctively closing her eyes and writhing atop the table as Kara's tongue continued its sensual dance around her love-button. She clutched the edges of the coffee table above her head as she arched her back and rocked her pelvis. And when her friend's mouth closed around her swollen bud, sucking it while the tongue flicked across its tenderness, she lost it, screaming out in ecstasy as another orgasm exploded inside her.

Several seconds passed before Pamela was finally able to get her breathing under control. She opened her eyes slowly, finding Kara no longer kneeling between her legs, but instead standing directly beside her with a still unsatisfied look in her eyes.

"Now it's my turn," she said in a coarse whisper. And with Pamela's arms still stretched out above her head, Kara swung her leg over her prone body, straddling her conquest and looking directly down at her face. Then she grabbed hold of Pamela's hair, lowered her pussy to her face and, with a hunger that threatened to consume her, began grinding her wet pussy against her friends mouth. Less than a minute later her body erupted in orgasm, spewing her juices all over her friend's face.

After the orgasm had run its course, Kara eased herself to her wobbly legs, then made her way towards Stuart and eased her spent body against his, sighing contentedly as he wrapped his muscular arms around her.

It was several more seconds before Pamela was able to open her eyes and lift her head. And when she saw Kara standing with her naked backside pressed up against her mister and his arms wrapped around her, all she could do was sigh as she eased her head back to the coffee table. Nearly a half-a-minute more transpired before she was finally able to push herself up from the table and rise to her feet.

Silence ruled the room as the three people stared at each other. It was Stuart who finally broke the quiet, nearly twenty seconds after his lady had risen.

"I think you'd better leave now," he said quietly, using all the self-control he could muster to counter-act the nearly overwhelming emotions and desires that were coursing through his veins. "We'll talk in the morning."

It took a moment for the fact that her mister had just dismissed her to register with Pamela, but when it did, it wasn't relief that her ordeal was finally over that swept over her, rather it was a strange, unexpected feeling of emptiness. She struggled briefly to deal with the feeling, before finally managing to gather enough of her wits to realize that Stuart was right -- she needed to leave, and she needed to leave now.

Still, she couldn't deny the unexpected feeling of remorse as she nodded her head weakly before turning to gather her clothes. Less than two minutes later, the hastily dressed woman took one final look at her mister and her still naked best friend, then turned for the door. Ten minutes later she was home, and forty-five minutes after that she was throwing her hastily packed suitcase into the trunk of her car.

"But it's been two days!" Stuart retorted, the exasperation evident in his voice.

Kara leaned forward, resting her arms on the kitchen table that separated her from Stuart Chambers, the young man she called Master, the man who was also the mister of her best friend -- better make that former best friend.

"We've already been through this," she said in the most comforting voice she could manage. "The note said she needed to get away for a few days and clear her head." She reached across and placed her hand on his. "She'll be back when she's ready. Just give her a little time."

Stuart shook his head slowly. "I should never have called you out like that."

"We've already been through this," Kara countered. "Maybe you shouldn't have called me out. Maybe I should have disobeyed you when you did, or at least stopped short of seducing her. And what about her? She was certainly capable of getting up and walking away anytime she wanted. It wasn't like we were threatening her or anything."

She paused, then continued. "Listen. Things got a bit carried away. But nothing happened between the two of you. It might be uncomfortable for a bit, but you can work through it. It may be to far gone for her and I, but certainly not for you two."

Stuart took a long, slow breath, then nodded his head slowly. "I just wish she'd come home."

* * *

It was 10:00 the next morning, three days before Thanksgiving, when Stuart again returned home. He pulled into the driveway, turned off the engine and exited the car. Then he headed for the front door and slipped into the house, pulling the door closed behind him.

He sensed her presence almost immediately. A moment later the closing of a cupboard door in the kitchen confirmed it. His lady had finally returned home.

For a moment he held his position, composing himself, visualizing how he'd approach her, how he'd talk to her, how he'd somehow find a way to make things right between them. Then he took a deep breath and started down the short hallway that led to the kitchen.

* * *

It's bad enough when you find out your best friend is having sex with your mister. It's worse when you confront her about it, only to have your mister turn up unexpectedly and turn the tables on you, revealing himself as your friend's Master before ordering her to undress right in the middle of her own living room. It can't get much worse than that, right?

Well, for Pamela Chambers, it had.

Who would have imagined that she, a 38 year-old widow, would have gotten aroused watching her friend humiliate herself by submitting to her mister and undressing right in front of the two of them? And who would have imagined that, when approached by her naked friend, she would allow herself to be seduced, undressed and dominated right in front of her mister?

But even that wasn't the worst of it. Not by a long shot. After having been brought to numerous orgasms by her friend, then being powerd to eat her pussy, she stood before her mister, naked and humiliated, hoping against hope that he'd take hold of her, throw her onto the couch and fuck her for all she was worth.

But not only did he not fuck her, he rebuked her, ordering her to get dressed and leave. He, a kid of 19 years, ordered her, his horny, desperate lady, to get dressed and go home, when all she could do was lust ************ for his body.

That had to be the lowest, most demeaning moment of her life.

In fact, in Pamela's mind it was so bad that she doubted she'd ever be able to face her mister again. So, after dressing hastily, she'd raced home, thrown together a suitcase and headed for an old mountain retreat she'd been to years before.

It was late in the evening when she finally arrived at the Inn. She checked in, then headed directly for her suite, where she hastily unpacked her suitcase and changed into her nightgown and robe. Finally, she pulled the bottle of Scotch she'd grabbed at the last minute, poured herself a take and settled into the chair on the small patio off the main living area.

Sleep didn't come easily that night, and when it finally did, it was a restless relax, an uneasy relax.

. . . 'Yes, Master,' she gasped, moving quickly to remove her clothes as ordered, not even bothering to unbutton her blouse, rather just ripping it open, sending buttons flying everywhere.

'I'm ready, Master,' she said after the last article of clothing had been removed.

Her mister -- make that her Master -- moved quickly, grabbing her by the arm and throwing her to the couch. She landed on her back, her legs spread wide, her breasts rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath. That was when she noticed that he was naked. Had he been naked before? Funny, she couldn't remember. No matter.

She looked around, noticing for the first time that they weren't alone. People were crowded around the couch, more people, in fact, than she would have thought could even fit in her living room. Her neighbors were there, strangers also. Even the mail-man was there. And then she saw Kara, standing off in a corner, alone, watching with a knowing smile on her face.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a stinging hand slapped the side of her face. 'Look at me,' her mister commanded.

'Yes, Master,' she answered quickly, returning her gaze to his, surprised to find him kneeling between her legs, his large, lovely cock poised at the gates of her womanhood.

She heard murmurs coming form the people gathered around, but she dared not divert her eyes away from her Master.

'Do you think she's really going to do it?' one voice said.

'It's just so disgusting,' another added.

'With her own mister,' yet a third chimed in.

And then the voices began to meld together, bringing a chorus of sluts, whores and tramps to her ears until she couldn't stand it any longer.

'Stop!' she yelled out. And suddenly the room was as quiet as a church on Sunday morning.

She refocused her attention on her mister. 'I don't care what they say, Master. It doesn't matter. I love you, I need you, and I want you.' And a moment later, a soft whisper eked from her throat. 'Please let me be you slut-toy.'

Her mister leaned over, reached behind her head and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling her head from the sofa. 'Is this what you want?' he sneered, thrusting his cock firmly into her pussy, then holding it deep inside her.

'Yes,' she screamed. 'Oh God, yes.'

'And this?' he again questioned, withdrawing his cock before again slamming it home.

'Yes, yes, yes!'

'And this, and this, and this?' he challenged, throwing himself into her, filling her up like she's never been filled before.

'Oh my God,' she screamed out as the most powerful, most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced ripped through her loin. 'Oh sweet Jesus, yes.' And then she collapsed onto the sofa, closing her eyes as she tried to gather herself . . .

Pamela awoke with a start, gasping, shaking as the orgasm wracked her body. "Oh Jesus," she said out loud as the realization hit home that she'd not only just had an amazingly hot dream, but that it'd led to one of the most intense orgasms she'd ever had, and it had centered around her giving herself to her mister in front of an uninvited audience that didn't hesitate to voice its disapproval.

She rose slowly from the bed, only then realizing that her nightgown was ripped wide open, hanging by mere threads from her shoulders, a casualty, apparently, of her ********** wet dream. Without giving it a second thought, she slid it off her shoulders and headed for the bottle of scotch. Then, armed with a fresh take and dressed only in a pair of cum-soaked panties, she settled into the arm chair in the corner to think.

The following day found Pamela aimlessly wandering the mountain trails, pausing here and there to admire a particularly beautiful view or a deer or two in a distant clearing, all the while with her mind churning through the events of the previous 24 hours.

There was no denying how turned on she'd been -- both in the real life saga with Kara in the presence of her mister and in the wet dream that had ensnared her last night. Further, she couldn't dispute that a large part of the thrill had been the surrender, the offense, and the taboo, things that had never, ever entered her mind before yesterday.

She found herself torn; torn between giving into her ********** desires on the one hand and finding a way to do 'the right thing' on the other. Yet despite the fact that this internal war continued to haunt her throughout the day, when relax finally came that evening there was no contest -- it was the dark side that reared its head as the same chilling dream that had filled her head the previous night returned, sending her once again into the throws of orgasmic bliss.

It wasn't until midway through the following day while she sat in the mountains watching a doe and her fawn romping through a meadow that she was finally able to settle things in her mind. Stuart was her mister; her step-mister, yes, but her mister nonetheless. And the bond they shared as lady and young was one that should not -- could not -- ever be ***d. So, with a deep sigh and the hope that, somehow, she'd be able to make things right with Stuart, she headed back to the inn to pack her bags and head home.

Once she was facing the island as ordered, Stuart continued. "Bend over so your head and shoulders are resting on the counter with your legs spread and your ass perched up behind you. Then, reach behind you with both hands and spread your butt-cheeks wide."

Another shiver shot through Pamela's body as realized exactly what position her mister was maneuvering her into. Even so, she somehow found the strength to swallow the lump in her throat and respond.

"Yes, Master." And a moment later, there she was, bent over the island with her hands spreading her cheeks so wide that her ass hole and pussy were on clear display, feeling more exposed then she'd ever felt before. And a flush of red spread across her face as she realized that the feeling was eerily similar to the feeling she had the other evening when Kara laid claim to her body. Only this time it wasn't Kara that was staking her claim, it was her mister. And this time there would be no running away when it was over. And yet another shiver shot through her pussy as a cold chill shook her body.

Quietly, Stuart eased behind his lady, then dropped to one knee. He could see her shaking and almost feel her offense as he took a close look at the glistening, puffy lips of her pussy and at the forbidden dark hole that rested just above it. He held this position for several seconds, examining her quietly. Then he took a long , slow breath and began the process of putting the final definitions to the new order of the Chambers household.

First, he reached out and slid his right hand over his lady's pussy, slipping first one, then a second finger into her womanhood and twisting them slowly.

"Oh, Christ," his lady whispered, even as she began grinding herself subconciously against the invading fingers.

"There are a few things we need to establish," Stuart started, as if this were just another typical lady/mister conversation. Then he pressed his fingers a little deeper and ground them a little harder, smiling slightly as his slut-toy writhed atop his hand.

"First off, things will be different with you than they are with Kara and Amy."

Pamela's heart seemed to almost skip a beat at the mention of Amy's name, even as she lifted herself instinctively from the counter. "Amy?" she questioned. But Stuart only smiled, lifted his left hand onto her back and pressed her back down.

"Yes, Amy, too," he said simply. Then he continued.

"Now, as I was saying before I was interrupted, when I'm through with Amy or Kara for the night, what do I do?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders in a mock gesture that seemed to indicate that the answer couldn't be more obvious.

"I come home, of course," he said, answering his own question.

"But what will I do when I'm through with you for the night?" he continued. "You do see what I'm getting at, don't you, Pammy?" he asked, not only using her first name for the first time, but taking liberties with it that he knew she's normally never approve. "At what point do you cease being my slut-toy and begin being my lady? And at what point do I change from Master to mister?"

He paused briefly. "Well?" he pressed when she didn't immediately respond. "When does that happen?"

Pamela lifted her head slightly, then tried to gather her enough wits to answer. But "I don't know," were the only words she could muster.

"The reamister you don't know, Mother dear, is because it won't work that way. If we go forward with this, I will need to be the Master in all aspects of our life, not just the sexual aspects." He hesitated, allowing his words to sink in, even as he was withdrawing his fingers to the point that they nearly slipped completely out of her pussy. "Are you really prepared for that, Pammy? Are you really prepared to surrender everything -- and I do mean everything -- to me?" And then he renewed his assault on her pussy, slamming his fingers deep inside her, twisting them, then withdrawing them and slamming them home again.

"Yes," Pamela screamed out as the fingers rammed her pussy -- in, then out, then in, then out again. "Oh, sweet Jesus, yes." And for several long, wonderful moments the fingers continued to work their magic on her, bringing her nearer and nearer the brink until suddenly, without warning, they were gone.

"Noooooo," she moaned. "Don't stop."

But Stuart ignored her, instead rising to his feet and slipping to her left side, then sliding his left hand over her breast and squeezing.

"Oh, cuckolds brownie!" Pamela responded, her knees nearly buckling beneath her. Yet through it all -- through the slamming in and out of her pussy and the grasping and squeezing of her breast -- she held firmly to her butt-cheeks, not releasing them even for the briefest of instants, a fact that did not go unnoticed by her mister.

After a moment Stuart relaxed his grip on her breast, not quite relinquishing it completely. He then moved his right hand to her ass and slid it slowly down her crack. An instant later the tip of his big finger was slipping into her dark hole.

His Mother's reaction to the unexpected *** of her anus was immediate; her head jerking off the island counter-top and her body going suddenly rigid. It was a reaction that was not unexpected by Stuart, and it confirmed what he already suspected -- the ass was something his lady had never before shared. And he couldn't hide the grin that broke out across his face as he eased his finger deeper into her darkness, even as he increased the pressure on her breast.

A whispered "oh, my God" slipped from Pamela's mouth as the finger worked its way further and further into her, not stopping its invasion until it was completely buried inside her. And as she held her position, bent over the island with her hands holding her butt-cheeks wide while her mister fondled her breast with one hand and reamed her asshole with the other, it finally struck home -- not only was there was no limit to what Stuart, her Master, could ask for, there was also no limit to what she was prepared to surrender. And another shiver flashed through her body as the pressure on her ass and breast increased again.

Stuart kept up the pressure for several seconds before relaxing his grip on her breast. Then, when he saw her body beginning to relax, he began slowly easing his finger out of her ass. He stopped his retreat when the first knuckle slipped into daylight, but instead of slipping it back in, he began working it round and round, stretching her slightly and causing another shot of tension to shoot through his lady's body. Thats when he brought his index finger alongside his big finger and began easing both of them into her darkness.

"Oh, cuckolds brownie!" Pamela gasped as the second finger slipped inside to join the first. Then she closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip as the two fingers began working there way further and further inside.

It wasn't until both fingers were completely buried in her ass that Stuart finally broke the silence, releasing his hold on her tit even as the first words were flowing from his mouth.

"Hands on the counter around your head," he said simply, nodding his head curtly when his order was obeyed with neither comment nor hesitation. Then he leaned over slightly and slid his left hand under her tummy and down to her love button, before slipping back its hood with two fingers and allowing a third to begin dancing across its swollen redness.

"Arrrgggghhhhhhhhhh," Pamela gasped as a bolt of lightning shot through her loins. Instinctively, she shoved her ass backwards, further impaling her anus on her mister's fingers, even as his other hand kept up its attack on her love button.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," she wailed, her groin writhing wildly between his hands. But then, before she could achieve her pleasure, the one finger stopped its attack on her clit while the two fingers of his other hand froze in her ass.

"This is the way it's going to be," Stuart said without preface. "As Master of the house, it is only fitting that the master bedroom be mine. Understand?" he challenged, jabbing his fingers back into her ass.

"Ahhhhh!" she gasped sharply, and then responded without thought. "Yes, Master."

"You will take over my old bedroom, although as long as you prove to be a worthy slut-toy, you will be permitted to share my bed. Do you understand that?" And he gave her another jab in her asshole, which elicited another pained, yet prompt affirmation.

"Yes, Master."

"Finally, as Master of the house, all household decisions will be mine. In furtherance of this, I will also take

over all financial matters pertaining to the household. Accordingly, I will be made a signer on all checking and savings accounts, in addition to being put on all the investments. Is that also clear, slut-toy!" And this time, when he rammed his fingers into her asshole for emphasis, he also slid his finger back onto her clit, sending his lady nearly, but not quite, over the edge.

"Yes, yes, oh God, yes," she cried out. And then, after her mister's fingers slipped completely from her asshole and began slowly caressing her butt cheeks, she was able to gather herself enough for a more controlled answer. "You can have anything you want," she managed between still heavy breaths. "Anything at all." And then her head slumped back to the counter in total presentation.

For nearly a minute, Stuart allowed his lady to rest, his right hand softly caressing her buttocks while his left big finger hovered near, but not quite on, her love button. Then, when he sensed that she was finally beginning to regather herself, he started again.

"Now, Pammy, let's talk about your annoying habit of sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong." He paused long enough to feel the tension return to her body, then continued. "Like with Kara the other night."

And then, before she had time to reply -- WHACK!!! WHACK!!! -- two hard, stinging right hands landed squarely on her butt.

"Ow!" she screamed, lurching suddenly upright, only be to be stopped by Stuart's right hand as it moved quickly from her buttocks to her back and pushed her firmly back back to the island-top.

"But I thought . . .," she stammered. "I mean aren't we . . ." But before she could clearly organize her thoughts, her mister's right hand withdrew from her back and -- WHACK!!! WHACK!!! -- delivered two more blows to her exposed buttocks.

"You thought that since everything seems to be working out, I'd forget about your little transgression," he interrupted. "Is that it?"

The now nervously shaking woman struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. "Yes," she answered softly, even as she braced for another blow.

But the anticipated blow didn't come as, instead, the right hand of her Master slid between her butt-cheeks and down to her pussy, where two of his fingers slipped easily into her box, even as the big finger of his left hand was sliding over her clit.

"Let me see if I have this right," Stuart continued as he began gently working the clit and pussy of his lady. "You put your relationship with Kara, my relationship with Kara, and our relationship with each other at risk, and you think that, just because it looks like everything might work out, I'm simply going to forget all about it?"

He paused again, continuing to let his fingers work their magic, knowing by his lady's movements and groans that they were having the desired effect. Then he continued.

"Is that what you're saying, Pammy? Really?"

Pamela shook her head slowly, groaning in hopeless resignation as she realized her mister wasn't 'simply going to forget all about it.'

"I'm sorry," she said in a weak, cracking voice. "I thought I needed to . . ." But she didn't finish the thought, knowing instinctively that nothing she could say in her own defense would hold up in her new reality.

"Please forgive me," she finally managed to utter, completing the statement just as her mister's right hand withdrew from her pussy and -- WHACK!!! WHACK!!! -- delivered two more stinging blow to her rear end.

Before the sting of the blows could work its way through her body, Stuart's right hand was returning to his lady's groin, only this time, even as two fingers were slipping into her pussy, his thumb was pressing against the gates of her dark hole. And a shiver shot through Pamela's body as the thumb popped inside her, and a guttural, lustful moan filled the air.

Stuart worked his lady with a s******* far beyond his years. He tweaked his finger across her swollen clit, then worked his fingers in and out, around and around her pussy, even as his thumb continued to work her nether-hole.

He could tell by the way she was grinding herself against him that her excitement was growing. And he could tell by the way she was grasping for air and by how her hands were struggling to grab hold of the flat surface of the island that her orgasm was near, and that the only thing needed to send her completely over the edge was . . .

He slammed the fingers and thumb of his right hand as deep into her as he could, even as he was unleashing his left hand on her clit, sending her instantly into a shivering, shaking delirium as her body exploded in the orgasm it had thus far been denied.

But Stuart wasn't satisfied with just an orgasm, so instead of withdrawing and letting her orgasm run its course, he gave her pussy one final assault, then withdrew his right hand and -- WHACK!!!, WHACK!!!, WHACK!!!, WHACK!!!, WHACK!!! WHACK!!! -- delivered six more blows to her already pink buttocks before returning his hand to her pussy, this time sliding all four fingers into her and pumping her for all he was worth. And then a whole new round of orgasms wracked his lady's body, causing her legs to give out, sending her crumbling to her knees on the floor with her head and chest leaning against the side of the island and her hands desperately grasping the edge of the counter-top.

It wasn't until the last of her orgasmic shivers began to fade that Stuart finally backed away. Then, as a sly little smile slipped across his lips, he grabbed the bottom of his tee-shirt and pulled it over his head. Now it was his turn. And a handful of seconds later he stood completely naked behind the still slumped over body of his lady.

"Look at me," he ordered without fanfare.

His words had the desired effect, shaking his lady from her orgasmic daze. She managed one long, deep breath, then stretched her head slowly from one side to the other. And then, as rational thoughts once again began to form in her mind, she pushed herself away from the counter and, while still on her knees, turned to face her mister.

Her breath caught in her chest when he first came into view. There he stood, her mister and Master, standing before her in all his naked glory, wearing an erection the size of which she'd never before experienced, and a look on his face that left no doubt that the new Master of the house knew just what do do with it.

Pamela held her gaze on her mister's erection for several seconds, not so much examining it as lusting for it. It took more effort than she would have thought possible to finally pull her eyes away from it, lowering them first to take in his powerful thighs and slender calves, then lifting them to wander up his tight young stomach and over his broad, muscular chest before finally coming to rest on his eyes. And chills shot through her pussy as the realization set in that, from this day forward, the gorgeous hunk of manhood before her would be her Master, and that he could -- and undoubtedly would -- demand far more from her than anyone had ever asked before. And a low, guttural groan eased from her throat as the hunger reawakened in her pussy. And almost without realizing it, she repositioned herself on her hands and knees and began slowly crawling towards the young man she now served, making certain her eyes never strayed from the engorged piece of manhood before her.

Stuart looked down at the woman he used to call Mother, watching as she made her way towards him on all fours, crawling like the hungry, desperate natural she'd become. He tried to keep a stoic expression on his face, to somehow suppress the grin that was trying to cross his lips. But in hindsight, it was no wonder he was unsuccessful. After all, that was the moment when the last shreds of doubt fell by the wayside. The slut-toy groveling before him was his, and she would be for as long as he chose to keep her. And this time, the body that shivered with barely controllable lust was his.

Pamela came to a stop at her mister's feet, her eyes barely a foot in front of and a few inches below her goal. She raised her eyes to his briefly, then lowered them back to his center. And then she lifted her right hand from the floor and reached for her prize.

"Aarrrgghhhh," she cried when Stuart's hand grabbed hold of her wrist and twisted it away.

But Stuart only shook his head and snickered. "That's not exactly what I had in mind, Pammy," he teased. Then he tossed her hand to the side. "Now, unless you want another spanking, I suggest you turn around and make like a good little slut-toy. Understand?"

Pamela lowered her right hand back to the floor and then, after putting on the most wanton, lustful look she could manage, looked up at her mister and said the words that would take their game to yet another level.

"What if Pammy likes getting spanked?" she purred playfully.

In response, Stuart bent over, grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted it to the side. "The trouble is, a spanking won't be your only punishment." Then he released her hair, straightened himself up, slid his hand over his cock and began stroking it with long, gentle strokes. "I trust I'm making myself clear, Mother."

It took every ounce of energy Pamela had to tear her eyes away from her mister's cock and the hand that was gently stroking it. "Very clear, Master." Then, without further instruction, she turned around so her back was towards him, spread her knees apart and lowered her head and shoulders to the floor. Then she reached behind herself, grabbed hold of her butt-cheeks and spread them even wider then they were already spread.

"Is this better, Master?" she cooed, getting more into her new role with each passing second.

As Stuart looked down at his lady's ass, perched before him so invitingly, he couldn't help notice the transformation that had overtaken her in just a few short minutes; couldn't help noticing how the uncertain, frightened woman he'd first toyed with had suddenly turned into the playful, lust-filled natural now prostrated before him. It was a transformation similar to the one Kara had gone through, only with Kara it had taken weeks, while with his lady it took less than thirty minutes. And a smile crossed his face at he thought about all the possibilities their new situation presented. Then he shook his head from side to side, pulled his mind from the fantasy it was threatening to drift into and refocused on the matter at hand.

"Yes, slut-toy. That's better." Then he dropped to his knees behind her, slid his hand over her pussy and gave it a couple of soft little pats. "Much better, indeed." And then, with no further foreplay, he withdrew his hand, positioned his cock at the gates of her womanhood and rammed it home.

If either Master or slut-toy suffered any delusions that their first act of love would be a slow, tender and passionate act that would cement their relationship as lovers, they were dashed in less time than it took the lust-filled naturalistic howl that flew from Pamela's throat to fill the room.

Pamela responded to her mister's attack quickly, pulling her hands from her butt-cheeks and pushing herself up from the floor, even as she was shoving her pussy back onto her Master's attacking cock. But Stuart countered by placing his hand on her back and shoving her head and shoulders back to the floor, then holding her there as he thrust himself into her with a hunger he'd never before felt; not with Amy, not with Kara, not with anyone.

"Is this what you wanted the other day, slut?" he challenged in a menacing voice, timing his lunges to match his words.

"Arrrgggghhhhhhhhhh," Pamela gasped in response, shoving herself back against him, grinding her dripping pussy against his cock, even as he continued to hold her shoulders down to the floor.

"Fuck me, you Mother-fucker," she screamed out. "Fuck me like you've never fucked anyone before!" And again she tried to push herself up from the floor, only to again be rebuffed by her Master.

"Oh, I'll fuck you alright, you little tramp," Stuart countered between gasps of air. And then he threw himself at his slut-toy with everything he had, thrusting his cock into her pussy over and over and over and over, not caring about anything except inflicting his mastery over the naked body beneath him, and about pummeling it back into presentation.

"Oh, fuck!" Pamela cried out, sinking further and further under the spell of wanton lust that was threatening to consume her. Gone now were her attempts to lift herself from the ground, and gone were her thrusts in retaliation to his. She was vanquished, little more than a limp piece of horny, wanton womanhood, able to think of nothing but the fucking her mister was inflicting on her.

"Oh, my God," she gasped. "Oh, cuckolds brownie! I'm gonna . . . I'm . . . I'm . . . Arrrgggghhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed as an orgasm the likes of which she'd never dared dream of wracked her body, sending shivers and chills and . . . "Arrrgggghhhhhhhhhh!" And then she lost it completely, nearly passing out, even as her mister began losing his rhythm and thrusting at her with increasingly spasmodic lunges as he emptied his seed into her wet, dripping cunt.

And then it was over.

Stuart slipped out of his lady's pussy, then sat back on his ankles. He struggled to gather himself, to gain control over breaths that were still coming in short, heavy gasps, while before him, his lady's limp, nearly lifeless body rested in very nearly the same position she'd been in when the fucking started -- head and shoulders on the floor, knees spread with her ass perched above them. The only significant difference was, where before there'd been a shiny sheen surrounding her pussy lips, now there was dripping cum.

He allowed himself a moments rest, recovering sooner then he'd expected. Must have had something to do with his slut-toy's pussy spread out right in front of him. He chuckled silently, then reached out and --WHACK!!! -- laid another hard lick on her fanny.

"Ow," Pamela yelped, coming instantly alive. But as quick as she was, Stuart was quicker, lifting his ass from his ankles and leaning forward to grab a handful of his lady's hair and pull her upright.

"Mother-fucker, is it?" he said in a soft, gravelly voice once he'd pulled her to her knees.

"I'm sorry, Master," Pamela pleaded, reacting quickly. "It was the moment. I was just so . . ."

But Stuart didn't let her finish. "I'll show you Mother-fucking," he sneered as he rose to his feet, pulling her along with him.

"Ow," his lady yelped again, struggling to keep up with him.

Once they'd both reached their feet, Stuart spun his slut-toy towards the island and pushed her forward. "Lean forward," he ordered. "Elbows and forearms on the counter, legs spread wide."

"Yes, Master," came the immediate reply.

Once she was in position, Stuart wasted little time. He stepped behind his once again properly submissive slut-toy and slipped two fingers into her pussy, twisting them around slowly, then easing them in and out, in and out.

But it wasn't her pussy he was after now, so after only a few short strokes he withdrew the fingers, then moved them to her dark hole and pressed them against the tightly closed entrance. Then, using their combined cum as lubricant, he slipped the first finger inside.

He could see the tension spreading across his lady's body as the first finger made its way inside, but she said nothing, instead allowing him free access, her only protest being a sharp intake of breath as he began moving the finger gently but firmly from side to side, top to bottom.

From there, silence seemed to rule the room for several long moments as Stuart continued working the finger in and out, up and down, left and right, over and over and over. Then, noting the increased effort in his lady's breathing, he began sliding the finger out, carefully stopping just before it popped completely free. Then he brought the second finger along side and eased the two of them back in. And as quick as that, the silence was gone, replaced by a low, guttural groaning that seemed to emanate from deep inside his lady's throat.

Unlike earlier, Stuart now found himself moving slowly, patiently working his fingers in and around his lady's ass-hole, his single-minded purpose to make certain that when he was ready, she'd be ready. And as he continued his slow motion assault, the ever increasing moans and groans that filled the air gave evidence that soon, very soon, it would be time.

It was a handful of seconds later when Pamela, a glazed-over look in her eyes, turned her head over her shoulder to face her Master. "Is this all you've got?" she challenged in a powerd whisper. "I thought you were going to show me what a real lady-fucker was."

Even though it was his right as Master, Stuart elected not to admonish his slut-toy. Instead, he offered a brief little grin before easing his fingers slowly from her ass. Then he repositioned himself so the tip of his cock was at the entrance to her darkness, and then he began inching his one-eyed monster forward.

"Oh, cuckolds brownie . . . Oh, cuckolds brownie . . . Oh, cuckolds brownie."

Despite his slut-toy's taunting, Stuart worked her carefully, easing himself into her one millimeter at a time, then backing off, then reclaiming the surrendered ground plus a millimeter or two more, slowly repeating the process over and over and over until . . . He was in!

For a moment, he held his position, buried deep inside his lady's ass, his hands holding tightly to her hips. He could sense her relaxing a bit, seemingly growing more and more comfortable with his manhood buried in her ass with each passing second. Still, he kept his patience, waiting, until . . .

Pamela opened her eyes slowly, then again craned her head towards her mister. But when she opened her mouth to speak, a low moan was the only thing she could manage.

Stuart gave a soft snort at her failed effort to communicate, then slid his hands up her sides, eased them forward, slipped them between her arms and body and onto her breasts. Then he leaned forward until his mouth was next to her ear and squeezed her breasts.

"Is this what you wanted . . . slut!" he challenged, feeling a shiver running down his spine as she pushed herself against him.

"Fuck me, Master," Pamela managed to respond.

But he ignored her plea. "Is this what you thought it'd be like?"

She shook her head weakly, gasping for air. "I never . . . imagined . . . never . . ."

And then, with a satisfied sneer on his face, Stuart withdrew his hands from her breasts, placed his left hand on his lady's back and pushed her down to the island top. Then he eased his right hand around her side and down her tummy, not stopping until the finger slid over her clit. And then, ever so slowly, he began stroking her love button, even as he eased he cock first out of her ass, and then slowly back in.

"Oh, God yes," Pamela moaned. "Fuck my ass."

A sudden gasp escaped her throat as Stuart's cock reached its point of full insertion. "Oh, fuck," she groaned. And then all intelligible sounds vanished, replaced be a deep, throaty series of gasps and groans as her mister began picking up the pace, ramming his meat into his lady's ass over and over, deeper and deeper while she wallowed helplessly before him. And quicker than she would have thought possible, her whole body went rigid and a deep, dark bellow filled the air as yet another orgasm shook her body, even as Stuart was dumping his seed inside her.

Stuart's body jerked spasmadically as the last of his cum spewed from his cock, then he went completely limp, his body collapsing on top of his lady's. For nearly a minute that's how they stayed, two body's melded together, neither possessing the strength or desire return to reality.

This time, it was Pamela that stirred first, reaching backwards and running her fingers up and down her mister's thighs. Still, it was several more seconds before Stuart finally stirred, and several seconds after that before he found the strength to lift himself upright.

Once her mister was upright, Pamela pushed herself to her feet. Slowly, she turned to face the young man she now served, then just as slowly eased herself against him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. And then a soft purr of contentment slid from her throat. She was home. After all these years, she was finally home.

C'est trop injuste... aurait dit un certain Calimero...

Calimero..........celui qui n'a pas d'ami?

Zut encore 15-20 histoires en Ang

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The Misunderstanding


Susan was the best secretary I had ever had. Efficient and permisterable, she was a joy to work with. I was delighted that she was able to get away from home long enough to join me on this business trip. Her help was much appreciated.

Susan was certainly attractive, but we were both married, and it never would have occurred to me to make advances towards her. I just wasn't that kind of guy. Plus, I was 52, and she wasn't yet thirty.

It was about 10:00 P.M. on the evening of our arrival, and we were still working in her hotel room on preparations for the next day's meeting. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. As I began to open it, Susan's husband powerd his way into the room.

He was in a rage. Claiming he knew what we were doing, he pulled a gun and told us we would both pay. We tried desperately to let him know that this was a misunderstanding, and we were just working together, but he would not hear of it.

Waving the gun, he made us stand next to each other. Calmly, he then ordered me to undress Susan. We were still trying to reamister with him, without success. There was no way out of this, but to follow his demands and hope he calmed down. So I proceeded to remove her clothes. I tried to stop when she was in only a bra and panties, but he angrily snapped at me, "Everything." He then ordered her to undress me. She reluctantly complied.

We were then both naked in front of him. "John, please, please think about what you are doing," Susan pleaded. He seemed to not even hear her.

"Put your arms around each other," he commanded. We both looked at each other, and knew that there was nothing we could do. We did as he said. Laughing, he pulled out his phone and took a photo of us. He then instructed me to lean over and kiss her, and took another picture.

Next, he motioned me to sit on the side of the bed, and placed her in my lap. Telling us to embrace, another picture was taken. He then had her lay on the bed, and told me to get on top of her. Another picture was taken.

He then had us standing before him again. Ignoring our continued attempts to convince him his impressions were wrong, he produces cuffs from a gym bag he brought with him. Throwing them on the bed, he ordered me to bind her wrists behind her. I begged him not to hurt her. Cutting me off, he snarls, "I'm not going to touch her. You are."

Our tormentor produced clamps, and instructed me to attach them to Susan's nipples. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but she still howled as I placed them. Producing a vibrator from his bag, he flipped a switch and the device began to hum. Handing it to me, he told me to make her "cum like the slut she is." As I apply the vibrator to her flesh, she moaned and squirmed.

I couldn't stand to see Susan being treated like this. An idea came to me. I blurt out, "Okay, I confess." I made up a story claiming that I powerd her to relax with me, or I would fire her. It was all my fault. She only did it to keep her job. Susan pleaded with me not to do this, but I saw that this was the only way to deflect John's anger away from her.

For John, this confirmed his suspicion. Saying he always knew his wife was a "good girl," who would never do this on her own, he removes the cuffs from her wrists. Caressing her, he tells her that he still loves her, but that she must now prove her relationship with me is over by punishing me for what I did to her.

Walking over to where her outfits for the trip are hung, he takes a blouse and skirt off a hanger. They are tossed on the bed, along with the bra and panties I had taken off her at the beginning of the ordeal.

He orders her to dress me in them. She complies, but as she is putting the bra and blouse on me, she whispers, "I am so grateful for what you are doing here--and I will never forget it."

He then snaps at me, "Get on your knees--slut." When I have done so, he produces a strap-on dildo from the gym bag. Tossing it at Susan's feet, he ordered her to put it on. She did so, and I was then powerd to suck it.

I was then brought back to my feet. Picking up the vibrator that was used earlier, he taunted me by telling me how pretty I was, and that "pretty little things like you really enjoy this." Commanding Susan to hold me from behind, he switched on the toy. Commanding me to spread my legs, he violently shoved the device up the skirt I was being made to wear and into my crotch.

"Tell me how good that feels," John instructed. "Beg me to make you cum," he snarled. Behind me, Susan was whispering to me to just do as he said, and get the nightmare over. I tried to resist. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. But as the humming vibrator was thrust over and over into my sensitive region, I couldn't take any more.

Through moans, I muttered, "That feels so good. Please make me cum," I sighed.

"Make me cum--Master," he corrected.

When I said nothing, the vibrator pushed harder into my groin. "Make me cum, Master," I repeated. Indeed, only my explosive orgasm finally stopped him. John then went over and sat on the couch. He motioned to Susan to join him there. Putting his arm around his still naked wife, he ordered me, "Entertain us. Do a striptease for us."

I thought the vibrator incident was total offense. I was wrong. I was made to dance in front of them, and slowly remove the clothes that Susan had put on me.

Soon, I was again naked--and hoping that this was now about over. My heart sank when he told Susan to take the cuffs and restrain my wrists behind me. It wasn't over. He then announced that my cock must be punished for "leading us astray." At his direction, Susan was made to alternately slap, massage, squeeze, prod, and kick my still sensitive groin area. I believe it was as painful for her as it was for me.

John informs us that he then has just one more requirement of us. He bends me over the hotel room's table. Telling me I have been bad, he orders Susan to spank me. Initially, she is using her hand. Obviously, her heart is not in it. Deciding that isn't rough enough, John hands her my belt. He then tells her to use that, with the stipulation that if she does not punish me hard enough, he will take over and do it himself. Knowing that would be even rougher for me, Susan did her best and I flinched with each stroke she applied to my bare bottom.

Finally, John takes away the belt and told us that he had seen enough. He took the cuffs off my wrists. He then placed me facing Susan. Ordering me to take her hands in mine, John instructed me to apologize to her for all the harm I had caused her, and promise to never do it again.

Susan tried to tell him that this wasn't necessary, but he cut her off. "Tell her, or I assume you aren't really sorry, and we resume our little session," he barked.

I was looking directly at Susan. But I couldn't look her in the eyes, because her gaze was fixed on the floor. With a sigh, I began, "Susan, I am sorry for all the trouble I caused you. I promise to never let it happen again. I hope you can forgive me."

"Well, honey, what do you think," John asked.

Without looking up, Susan mumred, "I accept your apology."

With that, John kissed his wife and headed for the door. Opening it to leave, he turned around and called out, "See you at home, honey." Then, he was out the door, and the ordeal was over.

My first instinct was to run over and bolt the door shut. Susan and I then proceeded to get dressed. I asked her if she was alright. She said she was. She asked me how I was doing. I told her I was a little sore, but I would be fine. She tried to apologize, but I let her know it was not her fault. Then, as I got up to head back to my own room, she stopped me.

"Just a minute," she said as she tip-toed over to me. Reaching me, Susan gave me a light kiss on the cheek. I put my arm around her as I let her know, "Your husband is really a lucky guy." As I exited the room, I looked back and saw that she was blushing.

Believe me, that afternoon made it clear to me that this little piece of meat loves dick more than one at a time. She bucked hard through some of that stuff and wasn't shy about yelling it out either! I guaranty you she was not fighting us off!

Well, Bobby and I had some fun together more than once after that before we decided on a gangbang. Our fun has not been any little one night stand cuckolds brownie, now - you gotta understand that. We've been having fun with this slut for months! We had such a regular good time at her place that I started having her dress just for us, shave her cunt, have our takes fixed just the way we like 'em. Sometimes we took her out someplace for lunch with no panties and did her in a men's room or the car - all that. I got her pretty much educated into completely submissive slut mode.

About that time I'd say we'd been fucking around for a couple months, and, as will happen now and again, sometimes you have a situation come up. I had to figure out how to throw a small party for some guys at the last minute and you gotta be inventive, y'know? My friends and I had just finished up a nice custom job with a fat paycheck and we all thought it would be nice to have an unwinder, if you know what I mean. We could use a few days off and I wanted to reward a good crew.

Next day, with everyone all rested and ready to play, I called cunt on the way over and told her we were coming to party. This time I warned everybody about her first reaction, but Bobby chimed in as how he knew that she was a good ride and would come through fine, though, so we headed on over. Now, a couple of the boys are a bit rowdy, I gotta admit. When you got five guys circled around one mouth and two hands, someone is going to be hungry for attention. My little snatch was a bit better this time about being nice with new people though because, see, I think she had finally got the idea in her head that more than one cock is a good thing! She served up takes, gave head, made sandwiches and fucked like a trooper. She did her best to be servile and make sure we all got taken care of in a timely fashion and she didn't need a whole lot of being told!

She got a nice mouthful of jizz, got a wad or two in her hair, and got some up her other holes as well. I know for a fact she was very happily worn out.

As a parting word of wisdom on the way out I reminded her that she better take care of her man that night. I know she doesn't want him getting suspicious and the best way to avoid that is give 'em something so good it'll put 'em to relax.

I bet she was just about to crap her panties trying to figure out how to hide all the mess and clean herself up before Twinky Dick got home. Shit, I wish I coulda been a fly on the wall that night just to see if he caught a whiff of anything.

OK, so I have to bet you're catching on to how this all was shaping up, right? By then, this little piece of ass was fuckin' submissive as hell and completely addicted to cock. After a while of playin' around, then, with the occasional party at cunt's place, I figured we had her about where we needed her. Now it was time to get pipsqueak in the game.

You see I got a method, yes? I took plenty of photos and plenty of videos at these little get-togethers and I wasn't snapping pictures of no finger sandwiches and tea trays. I had her by the lower lips and she was gonna do what I wanted no matter what.

I found out that her hubby had made some damn good money, but I never used her out of any of it. I'm not a fucking criminal, OK? Plus, I figured if we busted her marriage she'd get a nice chunk of cash in a divorce. We got nothing to worry about, far as I can see. It's all good, right?

So one day a few weeks back I came over with Bobby and Stevie for a 3- way sandwich. All very nice, good company and some nice grunts among friends. A little bondage to entice and please, with nice soft leather ankle and wrist cuffs for my little pussy. Very deluxe, OK? Then I whip out my secret little weapon - Big King. They make these honkin' big magic markers, permanent, and they stink like cuckolds brownie. While Bobby was getting his knob waxed a second time and Stevie was shooting video I came up behind her and just started writing on her ass and back. Freaked her right out!

Bobby was ready though and grabbed her by the hair and said "hey! Pay attention! Suck harder, cunt! I wanna feel your tongue on my balls!" and practically shoved his cock down to her tits. While she was coping and gagging along, I not only signed my name about a foot tall across her ass but I wrote all over her back, stuff like "gangbang slut", "5 dicks go here" (with an arrow to her asshole), and I did a nice artsy job, too. I have nice lettering s*******s if I do say so myself.

After Bobby popped his load in her mouth I told her to turn over. She started complaining but I just told her to shut up and stuck the ball gag in her mouth. I mean, I was ready to cope - you gotta plan ahead. I'd signaled Bobby and I went for her ankles while he did her hands to the headboard. Laid out flat in a trice!

"Listen, bitch. Your back was just for fucking starters. We're gonna paint you like property - which is just exactly what the fuck you are. You belong to us, cunt, and that's just the way we like it."

Oh - pardon me again, dear readers - my little cunt is writhing on the bed again while I type. Too much fucking noise.

Better - I'm back.

Well, I have some damn nice photos in my album from that day I assure you! I brought a bunch of markers, different colors, and the three of us took our time. She looked like a fucking tattoo queen when we were done, her body all red, green, black, blue, purple. And lewd as hell, of course. Stevie actually drew a kind of crown across her forehead and wrote "cum queen" above her eyes.

On her belly I wrote Twinky Dick a little note : "Wifey likes our cocks better than yours."

We made sure her butt plug was solid, jammed a vibe in her cunt, taped it in place with duct tape, and took our time about getting dressed. By the time Twinky Dick got home we were all comfy in the living room, totally sophisticated with our takes, with wifey kneeling in the middle of the floor. She was untied - nothing to worry about. Hell, we'd made her cum twice more with the little remote thingy while we waited. She'd been sniffling plenty, too, but she had come to understand that in this regard she was totally fucked. You can't outrun a camera and the evidence doesn't lie! Hell - she had nothing to fight about, since she invited us into her life and loved it all anyway.

So, anyway, about dinner time in comes hubby, home from a day at the grind, and he about cuckolds brownie when he saw the party.

I had to be totally pleasant as hell, though - I mean, we are guests. "Hey, hey, Mark, take it easy there, buster! See, we're friends" (and of course I emphasized the word 'friends!') "Wifey here has been partying with us a long-ass time, haven't you dear?"

"What the hell is this? What have you done!?? Darling, are you alright? What's going on? Who the hell are you people?"

He was just a mass of outrage and questions, which I suppose I can't blame him for. But this is our game, not his, so we took control of the situation. "Hey, Mark - I'm telling you - we've been partying with your wife for months, pal. Wanna see some nice photos and videos? Cuz I got 'em right here. Fuck - look at your TV, buddy! Maybe you recognize the porn star on there?" (I had loaded up a nice compilation of stuff on a DVD and had it going right there in his living room.)

I think the video did it, especially when I un-muted it so he could hear his beloved grunting and huffing away and begging for more. I had him totally locked right down to his fuckin' socks right about then. He was totally floored and in shock. Beauty.

"See, wifey has been so good about giving us a good time we thought we'd invite you into our little games. All very friendly, see? We don't have to - we're just being, y'know, nice."

Well, are you shocked that he didn't believe she had done this voluntarily? Oh, hell no - it took quite a bit of convincing. It's like any surprise. Shock first, denial, then the fight, and then - acceptance. You gotta have that 'come to grips' time and accept reality, right? But since I had her emails right from day one when she responded to my ad, and had her sucking and fucking for all she was worth right in front of his face, wide screen, I had his attention completely.

He babred something about not being able to 'handle' it or something and I invited him to just take a load off and have a sit. Cunt just sat still, head down and behaved herself quietly. Very good and we all got calmed down. While he plopped in the chair (probably about half numb) I handed him a bourbon and waved to Bobby... That signal got the point across to Twinky Dick for sure, cuz Bobby whipped out his big-ass floppy cock and stuffed it in cunt's mouth right there in front of him. Bobby can be a bit rude, but he is also very effective: "Show Twinky Dick how you like to suck big cocks, cunt!" And, gentle reader, she did. Ah - it was a truly golden moment.

How can it get any better? You got a home-made "best of" porno on the big screen, live cock show, humred little Twinky Dick staring at a real life change and an art show painted all over the bitch - plus free takes! Just grand, man, I swear.

Hang on again - I'm gonna be nice and give the cunt a break and turn the vibe down to 'low'.

Yeah - back. Good story, huh? Better than her pathetic 'help me' e- mail, no doubt.

So, anyway, there we were in the living room, recruiting Twinky Dick. If you show someone the benefit, you're gonna sell 'em, and Bobby was demonstrating the benefit right there in permister. Now, I will grant you that Twinky Dick does not have the superb heft and shaftitude that Bobby does (and few have) but I think he got the point that wifey had been learning how to give very good head and was ready, willing and able. Shit - she was downright enthusiastic.

He never shed a tear or even came close that I could tell while watching her give it up, not the whole time we were there. To my way of thinking that was a sign we were on the right track and not on the way to having a messy divorce and all that crap. No, we marched ahead full steam and fucking indoctrinated Twinky Dick that night. He was fucking IN the game, OK?

When Bobby finally shot in her mouth, I told her "don't you swallow that just yet, baby! C'mon over here - crawl - that's it - and show Twinky Dick how the back of your mouth looks, OK? Open up - give him a show... Very nice. You'd like to have his load in there, too, wouldn't you, cunt?" She nodded and muffled an 'uh huh' through the load in her mouth. Fucking perfect.

His eyes were glued on her mouth and he was completely fascinated when she swallowed. I think she had only recently started swallowing his cum, I bet. I wondered if he was just now connecting the dots and figuring out how long his wife's pussy had been shaved smooth...

"Go ahead, TD - your turn. Stuff your sausage in her mouth so she can take care of her man."

As you might imagine he was not really 'up' for that as a member of our little group that fast, but after a bit of cajoling he came around to our way of thinking. It's all sales technique, again, after all. Sex sells - for real! I had her pose for him in his face, shake her ass a bit, finger her pussy and spread it open for him. I even had her tell him in her squeaky little scared voice that she loved to get double humped front and back and that she loved to take it up the ass now.

"Now, tell the nice man how you'd like to give him any kind of kinky cuckolds brownie his little heart might desire. Here, now, try this on for size: Tell him you'll let him fuck you in the ass any time he wants. Go ahead..."

"Baby, I will - I'll give you anything you want. I know you've always wanted to do me in the ass - and you can, any time you want. Anything, baby, anything at all!" Oh, she was superb there, on her knees, hair messed up and tits swinging free. (The right tit said "Tit 1" and the left one said "Tit 2". See, I have a sense of humor!)

"See, TD, that's something I bet you never got before - and now, thanks to us, you get to have some very nice and very appreciative ass. She likes it, man!"

Well, Twinky's eyes were about permanently glazed over at this point, but we got him up, got him unzipped and we became the cheering section for him getting the filthiest blow job he'd ever had. We didn't need to press the issue any more, now then, did we? No - we were very polite, said g'nite and all, and left 'em in peace. In pieces, maybe, but that was to be seen.

Next day, sure as cuckolds brownie, I got a call from my little piece of ass.

"Please, I'm so messed up! I... I think Mark will be OK - I hope so - but he wouldn't stay with me last night... He wouldn't even let me in the bedroom!"

"O crap, pussy, quit blathering. Who'd want to relax with someone after they found out they'd been fucked over for half the fucking year? You're fucking lucky he didn't kick your ass into the street naked."

Of course, this drove her to tears cuz I was so 'insensitive'. But, well, cuckolds brownie, it was true! But I'm not a total horse's ass, and I gave her some comfort, too.

"Don't worry, cunt - everything's gonna be just fine. Really. You gotta trust me on this, baby. He's just gotta get used to the whole idea, that's all. Now - you be a good cunt and you give him anything he wants whenever he wants it. Wait by the door naked and kneel properly when he comes home. Give him a nice blowjob and make him a nice dinner. Fuck him to relax. I'm telling you - you have to DO things and that's what matters. If he ain't man enough to ask, you give it to him anyway. Massage his back nice and deep. Assfuck for him. Let him whip you if he feels like getting his anger out and fucking offer him the belt to do it with. Fucking grovel for him! You know how to do that, now, don't you? Didn't I train you good? Listen, pussy, really - you don't have to talk to him - you gotta fuck his eyeballs out, OK!?"

It's true - he has a fuckwhore for a wife and he has to figure that out at a gut level, someplace way down below intelligent thought. He's gotta figure out if he wants to have a fuckwhore for a wife or if he wants to shove her in the street. His choice. But see, I already knew Twinky Dick. He wasn't going fucking anywhere.

Coupla days later, after several little chats with cunt, we had us another little get together for Twinky Dick's benefit. This time it was just Bobby and I and the purpose was to drive the point home. But this time was kind of special. We had us a little meeting of the minds. To start with we stripped cunt and bound her hands up tight behind her back right in front of his eyes. She is property, and he had to see that.

We had cunt describe to him - in plain detail - how she was a hot wife fuckslut. How she couldn't help herself and that she just had to have cock and needed to be used like a filthy slave cunt.

Then we had even more fun - fuck man, we went to education town on his ass. We had her agree and tell him in her squeaky afraid voice how she belonged to US and that he got leftovers. That was the eye- opener for him, no doubt!

To keep the party moving, so to speak, we got him all hot and bothered to where his dick was stiff as a rod. I shoved her face in his crotch and had her rub him with her face and lick him as well as she could through his pants and pull his zipper down with her teeth. It didn't take long. I pulled her back by her hair to the kneeling- ready position.

"Well, TD, I see you have some interest in what we're offering, here. Nice tits, ass, nice wet pussy... plus, she does have the bonus of being totally fucking debased and obedient, man! She will do anything at all at this point, and she will do it as a slave to sex, won't you, cunt?"

She kept her eyes on the floor, nodded and answered properly, "yes, Sir."

"But, TD, although she will now do fucking anything you want, we get first dibs. And what that means is that you have to wait your turn. Please, sit back and relax, and allow us to demonstrate..."

Bobby had been stripping down and grabbed her head and jammed his dick in her mouth. "See, Bobby gets to skullfuck her first. Then me, and so on. You stay right here in this chair 'til we're done. You wanna wank your dick, you feel free."

I stripped off and we started on her fore and aft, Bobby fucking her cunt first. We swapped back and forth and played around, grabbing her tits, slapping her ass, that kind of thing. At one point, while TD was wanking right along with his dick poking out of his pants, I took her and pointed her ass right into his face. "Go ahead, take a sniff! Bury your face right up her ass, TD!" He didn't hesitate at all. Got down on his knees and stuck his face as deep up her crack as it could go. Good man!

"Now lick it, TD - Lick her asshole, if you like it so much. Go ahead!" He licked her ass like a starving man while I swapped my dick in her mouth with Bobby's, back and forth. We tried to get both in at once, but Bobby is such a fuck-horse we really just couldn't do it.

"Now, now, TD - let us finish up first." We got a good rhythm going and Bobby grunted out a nice load in her cunt about the same time I filled her mouth up. Gotta give Bobby creds, he drove her over the edge and I knew she was struggling not to bite my cock while she creamed around his dick! And when we turned to check up on TD, he was all fucking done. The show was too much for him and he blew all over his pants. Well, we did have a nice slave handy, so I made cunt slurp it all up, doing her best to get it off his pants.

"Hmmm - well, TD, looks like we're gonna have to stick around for second helpings. But, now, I gotta explain something to you. See, if you can't hang with the big boys and fuck her, well, then your just gonna end up being a limp dick in this whole thing and you aren't going to get to enjoy the true slut wifey here has blossomed into!"

"O, man - It just drove me wild watching..."

"Yeah, TD, no cuckolds brownie! I can see that! But get your head on straight, dude - you wanna fuck your hand or you wanna fuck her ass? Your choice, man..."

Needless to say, by the time we got up and around for seconds, TD managed not to wank himself over the edge. We got to watch him butt- hump his wife for the first time. And he did agree that he loved it, though he didn't last too long. Frankly, I think that seeing his wife get pummeled by cocks and getting to take part with us was as much of his turn-on as sticking his dick in her rump. And just the fact that she would do this kind of nasty stuff I am sure drove him wild. What hubby doesn't want a slut for a wife?