The Appointment – Part I

It was not as if she had to come to see him. When he had said, on the telephone, “I have two hours open at four o’clock that I will hold”, it was not as if he even expected she would attend at his office.

But here she was, in the beautifully appointed but still institutional beige and brown waiting area, her back ramrod straight, insides trembling a bit, perched on the edge of the wing chair’s cushion. She crossed and recrossed her black stockinged legs. Perhaps she ought not to have worn the gartered stockings for this first meeting. If he noticed, what would he think of her?

She glanced at the grandfather clock. Not yet four. She could still change her mind. And then she heard the soft rasp of a door opening across carpet. Decision made. Correction: decision confirmed. She knew all along she would not pass up this opportunity.

“Salley Tyler?” She pivoted on her seat towards the deep, polite British voice saying her name. Her first impression was that he was terribly tall and her second was that his eyes were very blue behind the wire rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

She nodded, standing up slowly so that her slutty stockings would not be revealed, picked up her purse and walked to his office. Her steps were deliberate and measured, one stilettoed foot in front of the other, willing herself to be graceful, not to stumble.

He waited at his door, shutting it firmly behind them after she went past. Placed in front of a large white marble fireplace were a leather couch and two matching arm chairs clustered around a large coffee table. The desk was on the oppossie side of the room, in front of massive windows obscured by floor to ceiling sheer curtains. The effect was comforting, elegance tempered with maleness, the epitome of what she would have called an English lord’s library.

“Won’t you please be seated?” he asked, indicating the couch as he moved past her to take the leather chair opposite. He was so formal! Had he ever been this formal on the phone? Perhaps the first time they had talked, she allowed.

She perched on the edge of the couch, just as she had done out in the waiting area, and watched him sit down and lean back into the chair. He was dressed quite elegantly, she noted, in a charcoal grey suit, crisp white shirt, and a black and silver striped tie. Very austere. She was glad she had decided to be more formal and wore a simple black, long sleeved cocktail dress.

“Your flight was good?” he asked. She nodded, smiling at his very proper manners. “And you slept enough to chase away the jet lag?”

“Yes, I slept away most of the day,”she said. She ventured a look up at him, directly into those startling blue eyes. “Thank you for suggesting the place. And thank you also for sending the taxi to fetch me.”

Her appreciation appeared to have pleased him, his beautiful thin lips pulling back into a smile. There was a hint of a five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw. A frisson of pure sexual excitement coursed through her belly down to her vagina. She quickly looked down again.

“I’ve made us some tea,” he said, very conversationally. Didn’t he know what was happening inside her? Perhaps he did not feel it himself. “Would you pour, please?”

It really had not been a request. It was an order, her first real order. A test perhaps. It made her shiver, the accented strong voice, confident and assured. Conscious of every move she made, she rose and made her way to the sidetable where the silver tea service was laid out. She wanted to impress him. She wanted him to think her elegant and worthy of his attentions. She wanted him to want her and want her more than any other woman.

So focused on her duties and her thoughts of him, she did not hear him get up. She was pouring the second cup of tea when she sensed him behind her. He was close enough, without touching, that she felt his body heat. And then the hair at the nape of her neck moved slightly, back and forth; he was breathing in her soft scent of vanilla and pink sugar. She put the teapot back on the tray and did not move. He did not move either.

“You received the envelope?” he said so softly behind her ear, almost a whisper.

There was no need to pretend. She knew he meant the letter that awaited her arrival at the inn this morning. Her knees almost buckled as she nodded and she clutched at the edge of the sidetable to steady herself.

“And the terms,” he asked, this time moving his lips against the hair at her ear. “They were..acceptable?”

She nodded again.

“And you are certain? The terms are rather stringent.”

Another nod.

“I will be demanding”, almost a warning as he murmured that.

“Yes, I know,” she whispered back.

 

A Picnic

It’s a beautiful summer day and Sir is inclined to indulge me with a fantasy I have always wanted to try. We are going to a park nearby, a large one, with tall old trees and soft green grass, hard wooden benches that people read upon, seperate play areas for children, and a small blue lake where ducks paddle.

He carries a picnic basket and I, the blanket. We look like any other couple headed for a romantic picnic. What others do not see, unless they look, very very carefully, is that Sir holds a leash attached to a silver bracelet, which matches my collar, on my left wrist. At all times I know that I am his and this subtle reminder is for me, in the event that I could possibly forget.

We are headed to the back of the park, an area without much activity, away from all the attractions. Sir has on shorts and a t-shirt; I am wearing a black tank top which shows a teasing amount of cleavage and a long gauzy peasant skirt. With each step there is a tinkle of bells from the slave bracelet around my right ankle. Sir has ordered that I do not wear underwear today and I can feel the air swirling under my skirt, up my smooth tanned legs, and around my bare pussy. It excites me to know that I am doing this among the general public and that Sir knows that I am open to him below my clothes.

A little tug on the leash has me follow Sir off the path and across the lawns to a sunny spot surrounded with sweet smelling lilac bushes. It seems somewhat private but our little bower is still visible to any person walking nearby. Sir lets the leash slip from his hand and turns to me with an eyebrow arched in question, his eyes daring me to agree to this place. Blushing a little, I smile at him and nod, and proceed to spread out our blanket on the grass.

Sir opens the picnic basket and unpacks the surprise lunch he has fixed for us. He would not let me prepare this portion of my fantasy, even though preparing meals is something that I would normally do for him.He produces a bottle of wine and two glasses. He pats the blanket beside him. “Sit down, Little One. Would you like some wine?”

“Yes, please, Sir,” I respond and sit down beside him, tucking my bare feet under my skirt, and accepting the glass he has poured. He reaches in to the basket again, this time drawing out a tub of red strawberries.

“And one of these?” he asks.

“Please,yes, Sir,” I say, waiting. Slowly, ever so slowly, he strokes my lips with the tip of the strawberry. The sweet smell is tantalizing but I know better than to try to take it. He withdraws the berry, sips from his glass, and takes a bite. I see the pink juices on his lips, wish I could run my tongue on them to lap them up.

Watching me, knowing what I want, he deliberately licks his lips, teasing me. This teasing is a slow torture; I feel my sex starting to swell with need, wetness seeping onto my pussy lips.

“Little One, ” he says, placing the strawberry against my lips. It is no mistake that his forearm is lightly brushing against my erect nipples, teasing them to hard points beneath the thin cotton of my shirt. “Taste.”

And I do, letting the amazing juices fill my mouth, tantalize my tongue, dribble over my lips onto my chin. I reach up to wipe it away but my master growls, a low sexy sound that warns me to stop. I can see the desire in his eyes and it pleases me to know I excite him this way. He puts one arm around my shoulders and leans in quickly to lick my chin and lips clean. He raises his glass in a silent toast, telling me to drink and offers me another strawberry.

The combination of the chardonnay and the lucious strawberry is potent. Sir smiles as my eyes widen with this startling new taste combination. Never has a strawberry tasted so delicious to me. He has chosen another for himself and again draws it against my lips. I close my eyes, feeling excitement run down my spine, through my tummy, and downwards.

I feel his hand reach under my skirt and then my pussylips slowly being stroked. The feeling is exquisite and I bite my lower lip to suppress the groan in my throat. Slowly, so slowly he strokes me, up and down with something hard and wide, against my clit which is slippery with my own juices. My eyes pop open with surprise. He withdraws his hand and bites into the glistening strawberry.

“You taste delicious,” He says softly. I feel the heat in my cheeks, blushing again. I glance down at his shorts and see his cock straining against the fabric of his shorts. I know he is very hard and I become even wetter thinking about the pleasure he gives with it. “You may proceed any way you wish.”

I drain my glass of wine, feeling quite lightheaded. It’s not the wine, perhaps the heat, most likely my desire for him, that is making me feel this way. Freed from the limits of submission to my master, I lean towards him on my knees and kiss his lips greedily, nipping his lip from time to time, swirling my tongue around his. He grabs me in his arms and pulls me against his chest, still kissing me. I can hear that low growl he makes and it excites me even more.

“Growl for me? Please? “I whisper and he does, louder, knowing how it turns me on.

I press my hands up under his t-shirt, running my fingers against his chest. Pinch his nipples, feel them become erect under my touch, thrill to the power I have at this moment to make him want me. One hand snakes round to his back and rakes his skin lightly with my nails. He shudders a bit but does not stop me. Instead, he begins to nuzzle my neck, nips it with small bites, and then sucks and nibbles on my earlobe as if it were my clit. My pussy juices are overflowing my cunt, I am so wet for him. I reach down with my other hand and grasp his erection. I can feel how hard he is, the outline of the tip of his cock. He groans as I slowly trace its length with one finger.

I push him back onto the blanket so that he is lying down. His eyes are glazed with passion and I know he wants me as much as I want him. I raise up on my knees and put one leg over his belly. Astride him now, feeling that hard cock just below my wet pussy, I arrange my long skirt around us. He knows what I want and he reaches under the skirt to free his cock from the constraints of his shorts. It springs out, hot, hard and long and I settle on top of it, moving my sopping wet pussy lips along its length, gliding it back and forth against my hard clit.

“Oh, god, it feels soooo good,” I moan. “So good.” I want to feel his cock moving deep in me but I hold back from letting him in. Every second of rubbing along him is amazing, the tip of his cock rubbing against my clit, making me want him even more.

Sir has taken the leash and pulls it, making me fall forwards onto his chest. The rhythm of his cock stroking my cunt doesn’t stop. He holds the leash tightly so that I can’t move my arm. His other hand moves from my hips to grab the hair at the back of my neck, softly at first, like a caress, then hard, wrapping it around his fist and pulling it back. I gasp with delight at this show of power over me and he whispers hoarsley, “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Sir” I whisper back, breathless with need, enjoying the easy pain of his hold on me. I close my eyes to fully feel him touch me, my hair, my arm, his chest against mine, his hips moving against my thighs and under my pussy. The sun beats down on my back, warm, and the dreamlike aroma of the lilacs surrounds us.

“We’re being watched,” he says. “Open your eyes.” I look into his eyes and he twists my hair so that I am forced to turn my head to the side. He continues to move his cock back and forth against me, a little faster now. “Tell me what you see.”

“A couple, on a blanket,” I gasp. They are sitting together, her between his legs, watching us, obviously turned on by what we are doing. He is running his hands lightly up and down her arms, imitating our rhythm. She is leaning back against him; I can see her moving her bum against him, and I know he must be hard behind her. I thought I would be embarrassed to be caught, but I am not. My excitement increases knowing we are turning them on.

Sir twists my hair so that we are face to face again. He is breathing hard and I can smell the wine, the strawberries on his breath. He smiles at me, a hungry sexual smile, that sends quivers through to my tummy, and says “You are a naughty girl, arent’ you?” I nod.

“Say it!” he hisses, pulling my hair harder, pushing me close so that he can kiss me. He is greedy and forces his tongue in my mouth, swirling against my tongue, until I am breathless and he lets the kiss end. “Say it!”

“I’m a naughty girl,” I say, knowing it to be true, knowing that I am his and that he likes me this way.

“Such a naughty girl…”His voice is almost breaking, his need for me urgent. “Such a fucking dirty, naughty girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes…” I sigh, awash with the pleasure of pleasing him, feeling my excitement grow. I am aware of people walking near us, but I don’t care. I continue to gyrate on top of him, faster now, looking into his eyes, locking them with mine. “What do you want?” I whisper. Then more urgently, “Please, tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, ” he growls. He moves his hips up, trying to slip the tip of his cock into me. I am too slippery for him to succeed. “Fuck me hard and make me come.” His large hands are holding onto my ass again, grabbing the lobes tightly, trying to push into me.

I want him as much as he wants me. I slip a hand under my skirt and guide his throbbing swollen cock into my streaming cunt, just the tip, the hard tip, teasing him, teasing him, making him writhe, and then I start a slow descent onto the hard length of his pole, letting it push into me all the way. God it feels so good to be so deliciously impaled on my master’s cock.

I rock a bit and sway, enjoying the fullness, feeling the energy rising in my cunt. I use my pussy muscles to grip him and he moans with desire, a low sexy “unnnnnnnh”. I push down as hard as I can, as far as I can, up and down, up and down, loving the feeling of how deep he goes into me, how his cock fills my tight pussy, how it strokes me and I know I’m going to cum. I can feel it rising in me, just as I know it is rising in Sir. He cock is more rigid, turgid, so hard, harder, and he is fucking my cunt so hard, I can barely stand it.

“I’m going to cum, ” I say in gasps. “Mmmmmmm…I…need to cum…”

“Dirty darling little girl…”he groans, pushing me faster, harder, up and down on him. “Cum for me….Cum.For.Me!”

And he explodes inside me, cum spurting and spurting, warm and hard, filling me so deliciously. And I cum, too, my own explosion making me shiver and shake, rocking my world, rolling through me in intense waves of pleasure, and I collapse on top of him, quivering. His heart pounds in my ear, he wraps his arms around me and holds me close to him. His lips move in soft little kisses across my forehead. I hear him whisper, “Aaaah, Little One, my beautiful darling girl…” and I close my eyes and drift off to sleep in his arms knowing that I have made him happy.