Hers Pt. 03
This story will be best appreciated if read in order after the first two parts.
When we returned from vacation I unloaded the car, then spent an hour cleaning and returning the toys to their designated places. I put on a laundry and made supper for Mistress. She instructed me to get under the table, spread her legs, and gestured toward her proffered pussy.
"Eat up."
I crawled toward her on hands and knees and settled in for my dinner. Despite her treatment of me recently I did still enjoy the act of eating her pussy. She seemed to like the salad I'd made for her. I hoped there would be leftovers for me. I had no intention of eating nothing but her pussy for dinner.
"Good salad."
My tongue was deep in her hot hole, and I mumbled thanks. She was responding to my attentions and moaned as I moved my tongue to her swelling clit. Her generous flow of nectar was a saucier's dream and I had to admit that I did still respond to this submissive scene, even though my love for my wife had dissolved.
She came powerfully as I punished her clit with my tongue. Internally I was consumed with thoughts of what I would do in the morning when I returned to work.
Come morning I stretched out the aches from sleeping on the floor, prepared for my expected slave duties, conscious of not giving Mistress any reason to expect that her life was about to change dramatically before dinner time.
She had me attend to my usual morning obligations. She had trained me in the art of light latrine duty specifically to accept her morning offering before giving her a wake- up orgasm. It was a ritual I'd always enjoyed. That morning, I rehearsed my plan for her surprise while I worshipped her.
She gave me instructions regarding the program we were to be debugging at work while I drove. I was actually envisioning lines of code I was planning to write as soon as I got to my keyboard. It was different code from the one she discussed. I had a hard time not smiling at what the results of my plan might be.
I can't say writing the code held no excitement for me, but as I sat down and powered up my system, I felt my cock beginning to stiffen. Revenge was inflaming me sexually and the prospect was delicious. It was akin to knocking on the door of a woman I'd been pursuing and was sure that tonight would be the night.
As I began typing my excitation grew and the code flowed from my fingertips to the screen. It took more than an hour to write the code I had composed while lying on the floor at the foot of our bed, recalling the painful humiliation she had forced me to endure at the hands of the men she employed to use me like a bitch.
When I hit enter it was practically orgasmic. Now it was simply a matter of time. I would continue to submit as usual until my plan reached fruition, but then it would be a new day. No telling how long it might take, but I could endure whatever her cruel plans might be in the interim, armed with the knowledge that my day was coming.
She stepped behind my chair and stroked my hair affectionately.
"Follow me."
She walked to her workstation, sat in her chair, pointed to the floor at her feet, snapped her fingers and said in a saccharine sweet voice, "Eat my pussy, bitch."
She pulled her grey suit skirt up to reveal her bare pussy and pressed her hips forward.
"Now."
As much as I had always enjoyed feasting on her pretty pussy things had changed in my mind since the moment my plan had begun forming the night before, lying on the floor, inspired by the pain in my abused anus.
While I devoured her freely flowing sex my thoughts were focused on plans to turn the tables and what I imagined happening to her when the trap snapped shut on her. I fantasized about how she might react, if I tied her to our bed with her ass filled with Crisco, and she first experienced my fist entering her tight virginal hole.
My cock was rigid and dripping precum as I lapped away at her sex, imitating the trained bitch she was thinking me to be. My rigidity was predicated on the mental picture I held of her screaming in agony if my arm were buried to the elbow inside her. If you asked her, she would have ascribed it to the complete control she imagined she held over my sexuality.
She came eventually and pushed me away before returning to her work.
"Have you finished the code you were writing for me."
"Yes, Mistress."
"You'll find a nice large plug and lube in my purse. Take them to the bathroom and put it in. I want you nice and open for tonight. I have plans."
I hung my head obediently and followed her directions like the obedient sheep she expected while thinking about ways I would use her for my pleasure and her anguish very soon. She would regret her cruelty more than she could possibly imagine. She had created a monster.
The day progressed ordinarily with both of us typing away, working on our sections of the master program that was the prime focus of the entire company. She casually instructed me to fetch lunch for her and I continued keeping a low profile by going out to bring sandwiches for both of us.
We ate the food while continuing with our tasks. She crumpled the bag and wrapping from her lunch and waved the trash at me. Again, I played my part and attended to her rubbish with visions of her impending comeuppance dancing in my imagination.
It was impossible to be sure when my trap would spring shut on her, but I knew it would be amazing when it did. As much as dream of ruining her asshole with my arm appealed to my vengeful fury, I knew that my plan would actually be crueler and more horrifying for her.
I had to suffer through two hours of her meanness and cruelty before the time bomb, I'd planted in her computer detonated.
I was in the middle of writing a complex sub program for a guidance system when the SWAT team stormed the building.
"Step away from your computers."
The automatic weapon toting agent dressed in assault gear shouted. The other four officers held their weapons on everyone in the room. The assault rifles spurred instant compliance and we gathered near the wall as our computers were seized by a team of FBI agents in their blue windbreakers.
I was surprised when another group of agents handcuffed everyone and led us to vans in the parking lot.
I did my best to contain my smile and the urge to leap exultantly into the air. I do love it when a plan comes together.
Over the next few hours, we were frog marched into a nondescript building and left to cool our heels in cage-like pens, One by one we were escorted out and led to antiseptic interrogation rooms and seated at tables where we waited for agents to appear.
When the door opened and two agents entered the real fun began.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"Haven't got a clue, how can I help you?"
The stern looking woman agent made a show of flipping pages in the file folder she held in a threatening way as though it were a hand gun.
"Someone at your company has been selling highly classified information to a foreign representative. When we identify the traitor they will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."
"I sure am glad it's not me."
"It has been isolated to your department, specifically your section."
She accompanied these words with a stern, accusatory glare.
I shrugged and spread my hands innocently, indicating that I had nothing for her.
The male agent glowered at me.
"You would have us believe that you have no idea about this leak."
"That's right, I just show up at my terminal and write my code according to the assignments my team leader gives me."
"Did you work on this guidance system?"
He flashed a paper that illustrated the plans for a electronic assembly and thrust it toward me.
"That's the laser accelerator for the HG-791 I believe."
I looked up to meet his eye questioningly, innocent as a puppy.
"You know that it's precisely that and that you sent the file to Han Hsu Li of the CCP."
"I have no idea who that is and why I would send top secret intel to anyone. I am not a traitor, sir."
My interrogation proceeded for another twenty minutes or so, before they tired of their games and returned me to the holding pen. I got to languish there for another hour before a new agent appeared and let me out.
I was released unceremoniously, shown out of the building and left to fend for myself. I was tempted to hang around and find out what happened to Maureen. God how I wished I were a fly on the wall for that interrogation.
I reluctantly called an Uber and was lucky to get a tech savvy driver who was able to trace my GPS with a bit of help from me.
When I got home, I took advantage of her absence to lie in the bed. It certainly beat the floor. Despite the newfound comfort I couldn't sleep. Visions of Maureen suffering through a Federal third degree danced in my head.
The next morning, I went to work as usual. When I arrived at my station there was a blank space where my computer should have been. A group of windbreaker clad agents surrounded the room and all of the programmers milled around, wondering what we should do.
That persisted for twenty minutes until our supervisor appeared.
"We're going to meet in the conference room in ten minutes."
One of the programmers raised his hand and waited for acknowledgement.
"Yes?"
"When can we get our computers back?"
"Why's Maureen not here?"
"I'll tell you all I know in the conference room."
He turned on his heel and left the room. The group buzzed with anxious questions and angry speculation.
I got a cup swill advertised as coffee from the communal break room, choked on the first sip, spit it out and dumped the rest into the sink before heading to the conference room.
"I know you all have questions and if you save them until I've finished it will save time and you'll probably hear answers to some of what you'd like to know. When I'm done, I'll do my best to address anything you think I've missed."
He allowed the mild hubbub that ensued to die down before continuing.
"First, the authorities have assured me that all of your computers and drives will be returned as soon as they have examined them for evidence of any wrongdoing. They've given me assurance that the primary focus of their examination is focused on Maureen and that they will conclude their investigation as expeditiously as possible. In the interim you will have the next two days off, at full pay. This will not impact vacation time or any other aspects of your jobs. You may however be contacted by FBI agents should they have any questions pertinent t their investigation."
I raised my hand.
"Are they holding Maureen?"
"I believe so, yes."
"Has she been charged with anything?"
"I don't have that information, sorry."
"Are we free to go home?"
"Yes, but you may be required to speak with the FBI again, so don't go too far afield."
A general chorus of muttered grumbling ensued as we made our way out of the conference room.
When I arrived home, I pored a generous glass of claret and took it to the bedroom. I set the glass on the bedside table and lay down for the first time in recent memory. I had been consigned to the floor for so long the bed was like a foreign country. Like moving from a hut in Afghanistan to a guest house on Lake Como. The wine caressed my palate like a lover's kiss and the soft bedding enveloped me.
I savored imaginings of the privations Maureen was being subjected to while savoring me new freedom and snapped on the TV. I tuned it to Sports Center. It had been eons since I'd been permitted to check out such things. Freedom was going to be massive fun.
When I was awakened by ringing phone it was unsurprising to hear Maureen's voice.
"I have only a minute for this, so pay attention. You'll find the number for my lawyer in the book in the drawer of my bedside table. She's listed as Abby. Call her and tell her they're holding me for suspicion of treason."
She finished with the address of the facility where we had been interrogated. I made insincere condolence noises before disconnecting and refilling my wine glass. Did you know it's hard to savor a fine Cabernet with a shit eating grin plastered on your lips?
The question that began to gnaw at me as I sipped the wine was how I should take advantage of my freedom. The Feebs still had my work computer, but it occurred to me that there was an old laptop downstairs. It beckoned me with a siren song of illicit eroticism's availability.
It took many tries before I managed to recall the password and get the old clunker working. It took five more minutes to dig out an ethernet cable to get me online, but once I cleared all the technological hurdles it worked, albeit a bit slowly.
I responded to her post, then switched back to explore some stories. I found an interesting sounding one about a college girl who becomes the sex slave of her chemistry professor.
The story was plenty steamy to inspire a boner quickly. I started working myself up, but soon I decided that masturbation was not what I wanted to do with my newfound freedom. I dressed in some nice casual clothes and drove to a bar I'd heard others at work discuss as being a swinging spot for pickups.
The parking lot was fairly crowded when I arrived, so I had to park fairly far from the entrance. The joint was jumping with lots of young people of both genders. Some were dancing, others were clustered around the bar, and a few seemed to have paired off in couples.
I found a seat at the bar and managed to get the bartender's attention quickly. I ordered a margarita and waited while he made it. It was tasty, a proper balance of ingredients, just the right mix of lime and tequila with a mildly apparent note of triple sec.
I'd worked my way through about half of my drink when I noticed a very pretty blonde girl. It seemed random when our eyes met across the bar. We exchanged something approximating stranger's awkward smiles. I extended my glass in a salutary gesture and addressed her.
"I recommend the margarita, our mixologist has a nice touch with it."
The bartender made his way toward our end of the bar.
"Can I get something for you, Miss?"
"This nice gentleman tells me you make a wicked margarita."
"Very good, one margarita coming up."
The girl turned toward me and gave me a searching look before speaking.
"I'm Caroline."
"Tony, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise, Tony."
"Hello, Tony."
The bartender set her drink onto the bar at that point and she raised the glass toward me.
"Slange."
"And Erin go bragh to you."
We shared a laugh at that and she patted the empty stool next to her. I couldn't have scripted the whole thing better and pounced on the opportunity to get better acquainted with this delightful girl.
She turned out to be delightful on a similar mission to mine in many ways. It seemed that she was recently divorced and found herself at loose ends that night, going stir crazy, trying to banish boredom watching uninteresting TV and had decided to venture out in search of companionship and perhaps adventure.
One margarita led to two more and we adjourned to my place for a nightcap and whatever else popped up, so to speak. It was obvious to both of us that possibilities of that sort were definitely in play. Lacking the makings for margarita's I opened a bottle of white wine, and we were sipping that, sitting next to each other on the couch.
I set my wine glass down on the coffee table. She followed suit and we leaned toward each other for a mutually desired kiss that melted into a full make out session. Our tongues fenced aggressively, and our hands began exploring each other.
Her breasts were full if only of moderate size, firm and a nice handful. Her hands pulled me toward her, and one slid down my chest, then continued down toward my stiffening member. She plucked at it before searching a better grip through my pants.
"Why don't we take this upstairs?"
"Yes, let's do that."
Her voice had a delightful huskiness colored by the building passion. I took her hand and led her up the staircase. When we got to the bedroom she stopped and began shedding her clothes, dropping them hastily on the chaise near the corner. I dropped mine on the floor and stopped to admire her body for a moment when she finished stripping.
She was perfectly proportioned with a lithe musculature that I considered exquisite. Her ass and hips weren't particularly full but fit her frame exactly the way I would have designed her had she been imaginary. The great thing was that she wasn't. Nonetheless, this felt like a dream as we fell into the bed together. We kissed and fondled each other with the tender affection I had been missing for years.
The passion built when she slid down to take my cock in her mouth, sucking me lovingly/ I stroked her hair and experienced the best feeling I'd ever enjoyed with a woman.
"I'm going to cum."
She raised her head long enough to utter two words, then resumed her delightful work.
"Please do."
She built the suction and worked my glans with her wonderful tongue. The friction grew to fever proportions, and she fondled my balls with one hand while milking the base of my shaft with the other. My balls drew up and my core tightened as the first of what seemed an endless series of spurts fired into her mouth. She milked me the whole time, obviously enjoying the mouthful I was donating, even continuing to suck the last drops from my gradually softening cock.
"Wow, you really needed that, huh?'
"That was amazing. I've never... cum like that before."
I pulled her toward me and kissed her deeply. She resisted a tiny bit a first then yielded to my passion.
"You're different. Most men don't want to kiss after."
I began kissing my way down her body, suckling each beautiful nipple in turn. She moaned happily in response, then I slowly worked my way farther down, kissing along her taught tummy until I came to the neatly trimmed bush. Her bouquet was mesmerizing, enthralling and I moved in to see if the flavor was as wonderful.
She moaned as my lips and tongue met the perfect flesh of her curtains and began separating them to work my way into her hot, delicious, creamy center. Her nectar was oozing as I lapped it up. She moaned and wriggled herself against my mouth.
All the practice I had from worshipping Maureen made me confident that I could satisfy this beauty and the pleasure of attending to her without coercion was extraordinarily lovely. I devoured her happily, taking my time to assure she enjoyed this as much as I'd enjoyed her attention. Judging from the moans, I was exceeding my hopes.
When I began working her pearl with my tongue firmly flogging the sweet swollen bud, she immediately started clenching her thighs around my head, and pulling my mouth harder against her, rocking her pelvis to maximize the contact.
The insistence of her response told me when the orgasm was beginning, so I redoubled my efforts beating her fuck button with my starving tongue. The pleasure of doing this because I wanted her deeply was overwhelming. When she began to cry out and her body convulsed with the beautiful orgasmic explosion that led to a flood of her delicious nectar.
I eased the pace of my tongue's activity so she would let me remain their drinking in the flow of her passion. She stroked my hair gently. I reveled in her tender loving touch, something I had never felt from Maureen.
"My God, you're so good at that."
"You're delicious, I loved eating you."
"Obviously. How did you learn how to please a woman like that?"
'I've always enjoyed it. Would it be rude to say practice?"
"Makes perfect?"
The rest of the night provided me with all the things I hoped I might find when I realized that I was finally free of Maureen's tyranny. The best parts were the comradely conversation and the gentle physical affection interspersed with the repeated sexual bouts. By the time we had totally exhausted ourselves and drifted of to sleep in each other's arms I had never been so happy in my life.
I guess I didn't need the kink, or a dominant woman to fire my wires. Caroline had stolen my heart.
- Upon returning from vacation, I discovered that my plans for revenge against Mistress in the workplace were taking shape in the form of a complex subprogram for a guidance system.
- During their evening, Mistress demanded I perform cunnilingus under the table as a form of punishment and submission, but I secretly plotted her downfall while fulfilling her commands.
- As the government investigation into the suspected traitor in their department unfolded, it became clear that the authorities believed I was the one selling classified information to a foreign representative, despite my innocent claims of innocence.