Million Dollar Mistress

Chapter 2

After an all too short eternity, the Lady Love (never just Amy again in Steve’s hopelessly beholden heart) clattered her paddle back onto the table. Then before her new slave could even begin to properly process that his punishment was at an end she seized a handful of his short blonde hair and used it to haul him rudely upright.

Maintaining this hold she spun him to face her and grabbed his emphatically upright erection in her other hand. By these two grips she wordlessly propelled him still sobbing and sniveling on tottery legs a short distance across the floor to a nearby card table. There she drove him down into a simple straight-backed wooden chair. As he collapsed upon it, his bound arms contorted awkwardly behind him, Lady Love unceremoniously straddled his body. Still without a word she pointed the hot c**k throbbing in her fist up into herself and sank down onto it, crying out in excited exultation at last.

His head spinning, his badly bruised ass screaming at the fresh outrage of supporting both himself and his unbelievably exciting and supremely dominant wife, Steve nevertheless came dangerously close to immediately and disastrously ejaculating. Groaning in exquisitely eloquent distress he somehow hung on, even when Amy shifted and squirmed around, rotating the spike of his greatest ever need maddeningly about inside her hot slick tightness. Then as she began pumping her hips with incredibly torturous slowness she at last deigned to address him.

“Well Slave Steven, have you learned your lesson?”

Though he’d finally stopped sobbing, at first Steve could only give voice to another helpless yet remarkably articulate groan. In response his wife slapped his wet, blotchy, rubbed raw cheek hard without causing the slightest hitch in her exquisitely timed rhythm.

“I asked you a question, slave: have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes Mistress!” Slave Steven gasped. The honorific escaped him automatically.

“I’ll say!” The newly and irretrievably empowered mistress grinned grimly, still pumping teasingly, sedately away.

“I think you learned a far more profound lesson than either of us expected. I’ve never once felt you so big and hard and hot inside me, not even on our honeymoon. I think it’s safe to say I’ll never have to do a lick of housework again, will I? From now on you will assume all menial duties around here and also pamper and obey me incessantly. Won’t you slave?”

“Yes, Lady Love!” Steve cried from the bottom of his now eternally enthralled heart and endlessly submissive soul. He would have promised his new mistress far more than merely his life and afterlife if only she’d stop torturing him by suspense and f**k him properly. And of course once she had this unconditional surrender she proceeded to do just that: sealing their new and impossibly unequal relationship in sweat and tears and semen, if not blood.

For Steve this was excruciatingly intense and yet all too brief: the best if shortest s*x act of his life to date. Enviably blessed as she was with a lean, lithe and incredibly athletic little frame, Amy already boasted both a stupendously supple mobility and unsurpassed stamina in bed, making her surely one of the best lovers ever. This time, elevated and inspired by suddenly finding her true calling in life both sexually and otherwise, she was absolutely breathtaking in action. Finally flinging herself headlong into the most fervent copulation conceivable she worked her amazing body at an immediate fever pitch. Shrieking with both exertion and ecstatic exhilaration, she rode the cresting wave of her triumphant ascension to total suzerainty and her helplessly bound and pitifully overwhelmed new lifelong slave simultaneously.

Subjected to this impossibly manic attack Steve himself cried out in mixed ecstasy and distress. Driven by the impetus of that maniacal rhythm, his incomparable owner’s exceptionally pointy breasts (barely concealed by that thinnest of tiny shirts) danced madly about right in front of his face. Trying to concentrate on these rather than the relentless and escalating stropping of his steel-hard c**k in that compressive sheath Steve immediately found himself confronted with another damning and unexpected and paradoxical compulsion of his new submission addiction.

How he would have loved to rip away that shirt, exposing those wondrous breasts to examination and plunder! But bound as he was he was helpless to do so. Swiftly however this powerlessness in the face of burning desire, and the renewed awareness that it was his Lady Love cruelly denying him, served to stoke his almost unbearable lust even higher. Watching as those wantonly withheld treasures of flesh were flaunted maddeningly just beyond his reach was soon more terribly arousing than fondling, suckling, or having them rubbed vigorously in his face ever was. And alas it was this madness that predictably tripped him into sin.

With his wife and owner’s frenetic f*****g still endlessly honing the dangerously incisive edge of his arousal Slave Steven suddenly found himself severed irrevocably from his most desperate intentions. Less than a minute into this most thrilling and sublime and fundamentally formative s****l experience ever he suddenly proved himself disgracefully unworthy of it by suffering the most draining, sustained, and convulsive ejaculation of his entire existence as either husband or property. And of course his glorious owner didn’t take this failure dispassionately.

“Bastard!” Amy shrieked. And even as Steve was still writhing, crying, and spurting up into her she stopped pumping atop him and again struck his face, this time with a powerful roundhouse blow that had all the force of her small but exceedingly fit body behind it.

Agony merged immediately with ecstasy, an erotic alchemy that would plague Steve until he died, as his exalted vision of Amy’s heavenly loveliness exploded into stars of another kind. Of course he would carry his bruised and swollen face as a reminder of this epiphany for days after the similar wounds on his ass were overlaid with fresh ones. But even long after he’d healed he’d return to endlessly ponder the mystery of how this strange combination of extreme sensations could so captivate him that he’d constantly seek to repeat the experience. In the meantime though, when at last he fought his faculties into focus on his beloved mistress, she was no longer straddling his lap but standing seething above him. Glaring down, all of her former fun-loving playfulness had vanished as if it had never been.

“How dare you?” she shouted again, spraying him with spittle that exhilarated and debased him simultaneously. “Do you have any idea how many times I could have come? And instead I didn’t get to enjoy a single f*****g orgasm. That was unforgivable – understandable perhaps, but still completely unforgivable. Now that you are my property rather than my mate Slave Steven, achieving orgasm before I have had my fill of you will be a terrible crime punishable by the direst of sanctions!

“However,” the Lady Love grudgingly grated after a pause to temper her entirely justifiable outrage, “Since this was the first time as owner and slave for both of us, I’m willing to be lenient this afternoon. Here is my generous decree: as penalty for failing me, you will have no more s*x for a week. And no m**********n either. You must also bathe my entire sweaty body, lovingly with just your tongue, finishing up at my cheated cunt. There you will perform orally for me for as long as I wish, until I can’t manage a single more orgasm. You will repeat these services twice daily, morning and night for the entire week of your celibacy sentence.”

With that Lady Love tossed her curls contemptuously and smirked down superiorly at him, judging Steve’s response. Satisfied by his meek acquiescence, she nodded decisively.

“First however we will return to the computer. There I will supervise you filling out and submitting our application to the femdom contest. After all, submitting to femdom is going to be your entire life from now on. Whether we’re accepted to compete or not, this is just a harmless game no longer. You are my pathetic slave forever. Now let’s go.”

Slave Steven’s indisputable ruler reached down and seized him again by his now spent and sticky appendage. Leaving his arms securely bound behind his back she pulled him agonizingly to his feet by just this, and over toward the stairs.

By the time they were less than halfway up these, Steve was already once again growing painfully hard in her pitiless grip.

Wendy

“You want another glass of wine?”

“s**t Kelly, I’d love one,” answered Wendy Polaski with a regretful sigh, carefully running a hand through her shoulder-length chestnut hair. “Unfortunately money’s too tight right now, what with Will out of work. I don’t even know how we’re going to make the next rent. I certainly can’t afford to get drunk at two-thirty on a weekday afternoon.”

“Oh bosh,” Kelly responded. “I’ve got it. You’re not leaving this table until we’re done catching up. Waiter? Two more glasses of chardonnay, please.”

“Thanks hon. If only we were lesbians. Then I could marry you. You can at least afford a girl an extra glass of wine once in a while. My Will won’t even be able to keep a roof over our heads at this rate. I’m increasingly glad I put off his proposal. Even moving in together is beginning to look like a mistake.”

The wine arrived promptly. One of the benefits of being a pair of stunning under-thirties was the eager and even fawning service by younger male waiters. Wendy took the liberty of checking out the admirably tight ass on theirs as he scuttled away and then picked up her glass. As she sipped at it her old friend Kelly laughed dismissively.

“Don’t worry, this is all on Paul.

“I don’t have a husband, I have a marital slave. We have a strict d/s relationship, remember? He supports me, obeys me, and serves me utterly. And in return I cuckold him, beat him and bind him, castigate and humiliate him, and f**k him ‘til he can’t walk whenever I feel the evil mood take me. Men can be made to do anything at all just by sexually exploiting their innate weaknesses. All it takes is a bit of insight – and a delightfully exciting ruthlessness. When are you going to properly seize your feminine power and make a simpering slave of Will?”

“Actually I have, at least a little bit. I’ve taken advantage of his unemployment to start introducing him to light bondage, teasing, and woman-on-top s*x. I tell him that as long as I’m paying his share of the rent, he can indulge me a bit sexually – and that he’d better do it if he wants to have a prayer of marrying me some day. It was slow going at first though.”

“For heaven’s sake, why?” asked Kelly, uncrossing and re-crossing her long, elegant legs. Where Wendy was brown-haired and busty, her old sorority sister was blonde and whip-thin. Still they found it just as impossible to tell who drew more appreciative stares when they were out together as they had when they were eighteen. It was easy to see why Kelly assumed her undeniable s*x appeal could get her anything she wanted. It had worked for her after all.

“Well, he’s Asian, you know. They have cultural traditions about what’s honorable and manly and what’s not. They can be more insufferable than blacks and Hispanics that way. Even getting him to let me ride him was like pulling teeth. But like I said, now I’ve even started tying him to the bed; tickling and teasing him for hours before f*****g him. That’s one of the advantages of unemployment – lots of time to fill. In Will’s case though there’s this other one that’s finally speeding up the process.”

“What? Dish the dirt girlfriend!”

“Well,” Wendy smiled wryly, “Korean traditional values are even more adamant about work than s*x. If you’re not a big success at your career you’re nothing. The shame involved for men who are unemployed or otherwise considered failures is hard to comprehend, even for us money-grubbing Americans. People go crazy and actually commit suicide because of it. Or look at that asshole that shot up Virginia Tech a few years back.”

“What a repellent piece of s**t. So how does that help?”

“Well, if being out of a job is even more shameful than being sexually dominated…”

“So you’ve been playing on that, you foxy femme fatale! Way to go! Here’s to you sister!” Kelly lifted her glass in a toast. They clinked rims and drank. Then Kelly set her glass down and leaned forward, her normally cool blue eyes alight with mischief.