She’s in there waiting for me. That’s kinda all I know. There were no hints of what might transpire tonight in her brief text message. Just a simple terse,
‘Are you free tonight round 8? If so, just answer yes and be here on time.’
I’m wearing the black t-shirt she once indicated she liked. And ripped Versace jeans. The first time I wore it, she sent me home with claw marks all down my arms, maring my tribal tattoos. When asked by family and friends where they had come from, I just told them I’d gotten them helping rescue a dog caught in a fence. I pray to God she never learns I compared her to a dog in a roundabout way.
My phone beeps.
‘I’m waiting,’ the text says.
I glance in the mirror, check my breath and exit the car. She’s left the door open as always. It makes a brief rumble as I slide it back.
‘Mistress,’ I say bowing my head respectfully. My hands are clasped behind my back, eyes trained on her Italian Sunstone floor. She rises. I hear the chair being pushed back. Heels click tantalisingly slowly and suddenly the waft of her perfume is in my nose. My dick hardens.
‘We said 8 o’clock did we not Saul?’ she says in a low purr. I still haven’t looked up.
‘Yes Mistress Bathsheba. I apologise. I had not accounted for the roadworks on Carnelian Way.’
‘A little foolish of you.’
She raises what I believe to be a riding crop and uses it to strike my straining cock. I suppress a yelp, my nostrils flaring with huffed breaths. An elegantly manicured hand grips my chin and directs me to her jade green gaze.
Just behind me, there’s a knock on the door.
‘It’s open Verity,’ she calls. A young brunette stumbles in armed with a case of who knows what.
‘Oh, I see you have company tonight Ma’am.’
‘I do indeed.’
Bathsheba smiles serenely and drags the riding crop along the inside of my thigh.
‘Go upstairs Sub and wait for me in the nadu position in front of my velvet chair.’
I don’t know what’s happening, or why this girl is here but I obey, the second the words are out of her mouth.
My knees are sore from waiting. I can hear laughter downstairs. Then minutes later the bedroom door opens and from my prone position I can see two sets of high heels and shapely legs stroll in.
Bathsheba settles herself into her chair.
‘Eyes on me Sub,’ she says.
When I raise my eyes, I can see the young woman messing with her hair. Ha! So that must be it. She’s a hairdresser. I’m glad. I didn’t want her participating.
Bathsheba knows my thoughts I think. She smirks and lifts her pleated leather skirt revealing her shaved pussy underneath.
‘Your mouth is required Sub. You may pleasure me whilst Verity works her magic.’
Verity and I both blink. But to hesitate for long would be a mistake.
‘Yes Mistress,’ I nod.
Her blush coloured private parts look puffy with arousal. Upon the first lick I can taste the sweet seepage issuing from her inviting hole. She keeps perfectly still. This makes me fearful and confused. Is it because I am not doing a good enough job or is it to allow Verity to fix her hair? I redouble my efforts and she raises a glass of wine to her mouth with a slight murmur.
‘How are you wanting the front styled Ma’am?’ says Verity. She is obviously trying to ignore the wet noises I am causing between my Mistresses legs.
‘I think coiffed to the right if you please. And plenty of spray to set. It is likely to be a lively evening.’
‘Oh, are you going somewhere nice?’ the hairdresser inquires without properly thinking. I pause in shock. This is not some teenage girl in the salon she is speaking to. It’s my Mistress. Her business is her own. Mistress senses my unease and rather than chastise me, she strokes my head lovingly all the way down to the back of my neck.
‘My Sub and I will be attending a party,’ she says. ‘I intend to lend him to a friend to be fucked. And of course my friend will offer her Sub to me in return. It should be a very pleasant evening’
I’m shocked to find my chest tighten and tears springing to my eyes. She is going to lend me to someone else? I don’t want to refuse but the idea repulses me, so I busy myself under her skirts, lapping worshipfully to distract from my upset.
Before long, her hair is done and the hairdresser makes her own way out. Bathsheba looks divine and regal. She pats her knees for me to sit. A thrill runs through me as she licks her own wetness from my chin. Instinctively my tongue reaches for hers. Pain flares as she nips it viciously, grabs my throat then leans back shaking her head.
‘My tongue is only yours when it is given Saul.’
‘Yes Mistress.’
‘Go and fetch the foot treatments. My feet need tended and then you may lick my pussy some more. I want at least three orgasms before you go.’
‘And what about the party Miss?’
‘There is no ‘actual’ party. This was my party – an evening of teasing you and Verity. That silly girl will go home and reach straight for her dildo after watching you service my cunt,’ she laughs.
My mouth drops open.
‘So you won’t be lending me to one of your friends tonight?’
Her hand drifts to my crotch and she holds my hardened length possessively.
‘Not this night or any other night. I don’t share what’s mine. Now go about your duties.’