Masterfulhusband
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The Soccer Mom
🕑 Added 2021-09-03 17:00:07 +0000 UTCAs with so many of my stories, I have an idea to write a quick one shot then decide the characters need fleshing out. Then add another character and suddenly I've written 6000 words and the original idea for the story still hasn't actually manifested! Nevertheless, here we are again. The plus side, this one is a pretty locked on two parter with the second half already halfway written. So hopefully you enjoy the first half and I can get the second half done and dusted in short order so that I don't have (another!) unfinished story hanging over me like some sort of literary sword of Damocles. Enough rambling, on with the show!
When my wife passed away seven years ago, I thought my world was over. I was left with two kids and no clue how to raise them. My son, 13 at the time, was pretty easy to deal with. He was a lot like me and we saw eye to eye on everything. My daughter, on the other hand, was a handful. I grew up with only brothers and I had no idea how to raise a girl. My wife had helped me through all the big milestones but, at 11, she had the biggest milestones coming up.
It was really rough for awhile. Lots of screaming and shouting matches. Frustration. Anger. My poor son having to play arbitrator to keep the peace between us. It was miserable. About the only thing we had in common was soccer. I loved it. She loved it. It was one thing we could bond over.
I was lucky that my employer was willing to work with me to let me work from home more often and that one change probably saved my family. The extra time let me do something that I’d always wanted to do but never had the chance. Coach my daughter’s soccer team.
Now you may be reading this thinking, “He had a terrible relationship with his daughter and he thought being her soccer coach would HELP?” And you’re probably right for most daughters and fathers. But either through good planning or blind luck, it worked out really well for us. We now had something to talk constructively about. We now had alone time in the car three times a week. It completely changed the dynamic between us and by the time she graduated, I can honestly say that our relationship was everything I’d ever wanted it to be.
“You did a good job with her, Dad. Mom would be proud,” my son said at graduation. Henry and I were watching Layla walk across the stage. She’d graduated fifth in her class, was second team all-state and a national merit semi-finalist. She was the definition of “almost amazing” at everything. Other kids would have chafed at that but not my Layla. She loved being better than most people at so many things.
I grabbed my son’s hand and looked at him fondly. “I don’t really know what I’m going to do now. You’re halfway across the country in Nebraska. She’s going even further. I’m going to have a ton of free time on my hands.”
“You going to keep coaching, old man?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You love it though, right? Being Coach Matt is what you want?”
I nodded. I really did. I loved working with the kids. Teaching them my love for the game. Helping them achieve their goals and watching them grow. “It’s kind of weird though. I don’t want to be the creepy guy coaching little girls.”
“You could coach a boys team,” my son said.
If he’d suggested that eight years ago, I’d have nodded my head in full agreement. But having spent the better part of a decade coaching girls soccer, the idea seemed preposterous… almost scary. I knew how to coach girls. How do you coach boys?
When we were packing my daughter up for her flight to Santa Barbara, I asked her, “Layla… it would be okay if I kept coaching, right?”
She looked at me in shock and then smiled softly. She had maintained all the fire from her rambunctious pre-tween years but now had it tempered with compassion, experience and intelligence. “Of course, dad. You think I’d have an issue with that?”
“No… it’s just… well… it was kind of our thing, you know?”
“I know,” she said with a wan smile.
“I was thinking of coaching a boys team,” I said.
She nodded, “Afraid of being a creeper?”
I laughed… she knew me very well. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“I say go for it. Maybe you’ll bag some hot soccer mom while you’re at it.”
I rolled my eyes. Ever since my daughter had gotten interested in boys (thankfully VERY late in high school), she’d been pressuring me to go out on dates. I’d had a couple. I’d even managed a very brief fling with one woman named Skye, leading to an interminable date, followed by a surprisingly pleasant bedroom encounter, and ending in a single embarrassing moment where my daughter came back early from a camping trip to find Skye, wearing Layla’s T-shirt she’d grabbed out of the laundry, standing in the kitchen making pancakes. Layla had reacted fine. Skye freaked out and was too embarrassed to even email me back. The fact that there’d been a bright red handprint on her ass probably hadn’t helped. It was fine though. She and I hadn’t clicked in any way except the bedroom so it was never more than an enjoyable dalliance. It was hard to imagine anyone clicking with me like my late wife had. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said simply.
Layla nodded, not wanting to rehash old territory. At least the conversation solidified in my mind that I was going to keep coaching. I needed something to do. At 41, I still had a lot of good years left and the last thing I wanted was to waste away aimlessly in a dark, quiet home where all I’d have to do is think about what might have been.
Three weeks later, I was standing on a soccer field, coaching the first game of the season. The league had a need for a U9 coach. That’s a little younger than I’d wanted but I wasn’t going to complain. At that age, the kids are just starting to learn the basic concepts of soccer. Spread out. Pass the ball. Etc. It’s not quite “pack ball” but it still devolves into that at times.
However, one kid really caught my eye. Alexander. He caught my eye for two reasons. First of all, the kid was terrific. Had an instinctive touch on the ball that was sublime and understood exactly what I asked, quickly implementing suggestions and critiques into his game play. It would be completely legitimate to say that by the end of the game, he’d gotten twice as effective just by doing what he was asked. This was all the more impressive because he was deaf. He could read lips well enough that it wasn’t a problem but he couldn’t hear instructions shouted during the game or the calls of his teammates. If you’ve ever played soccer, that SHOULD be a big deal but this kid had enough awareness of his surroundings that it was never a problem.
The other thing that caught my eye was his mother. Now look, I have a type. I’ll fully admit that. I like tall, lithe, long legged redheads. Not thin. But not thick either. That’s how I would describe my wife. Sexy. Sensual. Stunning. Any woman like that would catch my eye and get an instant, visceral reaction from me. Frankly, it’s why the bad date with Skye turned into an invigorating romp in the sack.
Beth was… well… she was NOT that. Beth was short and athletic. She was powerfully built with well muscled legs and wide shoulders. Her face was incredibly cute and youthful. She could probably pass for early 20s. Far from the fiery red Irish hair coloring that I frequently was drawn towards, her hair was dark brown with hints of blonde highlights.
Despite all those differences, I was instantly drawn to her. She was standing there wearing a black tank top that was drawn so tight it almost resembled a sports bra and running shorts that should have been too short but somehow her youthful appearance made the whole ensemble look cute rather than sexy. The Pumas with short white ankle socks completed the ensemble, broadcasting “sporty” like a neon sign blaring over her head.
“It’s so nice of you to take the time to coach the kids,” she said to me after the game.
“Well, it’s something I loved doing with my kids and with them away at college, I needed something to keep me occupied,” I said. I squinted against the sun, grateful for my dark tinted sunglasses that kept my roving eyes hidden. Her full, round breasts were very eye-catching.
“Well, we really appreciate it,” she said, the silence hanging awkwardly between us as we both were lost for something to say.
Just then, her husband came bounding up and stuck his hand out. “Reed Undergiven,” I took the outstretched hand and shook it firmly. “What are you two talking about?” he asked, draping his arm around his wife and placing his fingers on her waist.
She got quiet and leaned into her husband, the gesture should have looked loving and sweet but something about it seemed off. She quietly said, “Just thanking the coach for his time.”
Reed smiled at me and said, “Yeah. Thanks. Alex learned a lot. We’ll make sure he’s all ready for next week.” Beth simply nodded, avoiding eye contact. Reed’s arm gripped around her hip tightly.
Have you ever met someone who did nothing wrong, said all the right things, but something about them just seemed… off? That was Reed. I just had an instant dislike of him. I replayed the conversation in my head as I drove home and, eventually, convinced myself it was simply the primal side of me not liking that his insanely cute wife was his and not mine. I pushed the thought to the side and went about my week, not really thinking anything more about it.
The scene repeated each week. She and I would make idle chatter while Reed praised his son. He wasn’t the “helicopter parent” / “super eager sports dad” I feared he was, but he was overly effusive in his encouragement. It made his son light up like a man desperate for water. I found myself more and more wondering if the only praise Alexander got was on Saturday mornings after the game. Each day, the father would come over, take over the conversation from his wife and assure me that Alex, by far the best player every week, would be even better next week. I definitely didn’t like the guy.
When the season ended, Alexander was the unanimous choice of his teammates for MVP. His parents beamed with pride as the kids all gathered around him and gave him congratulatory hugs. Alex, to his credit, was humble and quiet in accepting the tiny trophy I’d gotten for him. As Reed came over and gave his son his own congratulations, Beth came over and whispered quietly. “Alex has really loved playing for you this season.”
“Well I’ve loved coaching him. He’s great,” I said.
“I talked to Reed and we thought maybe you could give Alex some private lessons in the off-season? If you’re willing?”
“Uhmm… sure. I think I could do that.”
“We’d pay you of course,” she said, watching her son and husband and never looking at me.
“Uhmm… sure… that would be fine. We can figure out something fair. I just like helping the kids so the money would be more about just keeping my time from being overused.”
She nodded quietly and shuffled slightly away from me as Reed looked up at her. For the briefest of moments, I thought I saw a darkness pass across his eyes but he looked at me and then at his wife and it passed.
“Where and when?” I asked.
“Your house. During the day,” she said. The way she said it. Everything about the conversation, really. Reed didn’t know about this. She was doing this on her own.
I didn’t even bother nodding. I simply said, “Sure. I’ll email you my address.”
“It’s probably better if…,” she started.
“I’ll email YOU,” I said again, re-emphasizing the word. She nodded, satisfied that her request was understood.
That same evening, I got an unexpected phone call.
“Skye?” I asked, picking up the phone. Surprise evident in my voice.
“Hey, Matt” she said softly.
“What’s up?” I asked. I hadn’t heard from her in six months and was completely perplexed.
“I’ve been thinking about you…,” she said. The moment stretched on and she said nothing for a painfully long time. Finally, she asked, “Have you been thinking about me?”
I really wasn’t sure what to say. I HAD thought about her, but not in the way she meant, and not particularly often. Eventually, I said, “Some.”
“I… I’d like another chance,” she said. Her voice sounded pleading and almost desperate.
“I don’t know, Skye. We’re not really compatible…”
“Yes we are!” she said, uncharacteristic fire in her voice. “I mean… we are… in one really important way,” she said more calmly.
“That’s not all there is to dating though,” I returned. The images that came to my mind were quite enticing.
“That’s what I like about you though, Matt. I’ve found a couple other guys that I… uhmm… clicked with. But they just wanted to be fuck buddies,” she said. “You respect me enough to want to be more.”
“You should probably try guys your own age,” I said. Skye was only 24, barely older than my son. That was always a big reservation of mine. It felt… icky… Almost like I was taking advantage of her. I know that’s not the case. She’s an adult and can make her own decisions. It still felt wrong to me.
Skye laughed, it was pleasant and genuine, “The problem with them is that we don’t… click… in the way you and I do. Older men know what they want and aren’t afraid to ask for it. I don’t want to have bad sex for five years while I teach some boy how to be a man. And I don’t want to date some old creep that only things about kinky sex. I’m fine with the kinky sex… just not from some creepy guy.” It was clear she was speaking with some experience on the matter.
Her words conjured up some very specific, very pleasurable memories. I could tell that I was close to the point of making bad decisions. I pride myself on being in control but sometimes a woman is able to push your buttons and get you to do things that you wouldn’t otherwise think are wise. “Skye, I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Can I have another chance, Matt? What’s the worst that happens? You have a lousy time with a hot, young sex pot. And then I’ll leave it up to you whether you bend me to your will or not… Sir.”
The last word was whispered with the kind of breathy rasp that would make a phone sex operator stand up and applaud. She knew what she was doing. I managed to croak out, “You probably shouldn’t call me that…,” I said, trying to give her a warning about the dangerous water she was treading in, “But fine… dinner and we’ll see how it goes?”
“Yay!” she said with a squeal.
“Saturday night?”
“Perfect,” she purred and I knew I needed to get off the phone before I just told her to come over right then and there. Women can really get men to do stupid things sometimes.
“Goodnight, Skye.”
“Mmm… Goodnight… Master,” she whispered.
I sighed and hung up the phone. There was no doubt that I was going to be thinking about her tonight.
When Saturday finally came, I was a mix of excitement and trepidation. I really can’t explain to you how badly that first date went. It was awful. A repeat of that would have sucked, even with the very wonderful ending. Nevertheless, I drove over to her apartment to pick her up. She was, as expected, a vision of loveliness. She practically glided down the stairs, hips swaying as the black dress she wore went from side to side. The light of the stairwell played tricks with the shadows but I was pretty sure there were hints of stocking tops briefly revealed as she walked. The top was tastefully plunging. Not so much that it was obscene but way more than you’d typically see. The outfit broadcast a sophisticated, sexual look and I swallowed hard, wondering if I had the willpower for this date. From a physical standpoint, I already wanted to fuck her. From a moral standpoint, I felt very strongly that another one-night stand with her wouldn’t be right or fair.
Hopping out of the car, I dashed around to open the door for her. She smiled at me, stepping in with her long legs as she swiveled into the black leather seat of the bright orange Scion. It was the one thing frivolous, selfish purchase I’d made in the last decade and I loved it. “You look lovely, Skye,” I said.
She smiled and simply said, “Thank you.” She was almost as nervous as I was, “Where are you taking me?”
“Hairy Harry’s Haggis Hut?” I said with a grin.
“Uhhmm… okay…,” she said with a badly disguised frown.
“I’m kidding, Skye,” I said and she laughed.
“Thank God. Haggis isn’t exactly a sexy meal… is there really a place named ‘Harry Hairy’s’?” she asked as the name clicked.
“No… it’s an old joke between…,” I paused, stopping before I could say, “My wife and I?”
She smiled softly, looking at me, “It’s okay… Matt… can I make a suggestion?”
“Sure,” I said, pulling out onto the main road and gunning the engine. Skye smiled and placed her thin fingers on mine as I shifted the gear.
“I think we made a mistake,” she said.
My foot left the accelerator and I started to apply the break, looking over my left shoulder as I prepared for a U-Turn. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
“No… not tonight, silly. Don’t turn around,” she said, “I mean. We made a mistake in trying to jump into romance. My suggestion is we just try to be friends first. Even friends with benefits if that’s what you want… I think I’d like that.”
“I thought that’s not what you wanted?” I said in confusion.
She shook her head, straight red hair spiraling beside her face in an alluring splay of casual sexuality, “I didn’t say that. I said I don’t want a relationship that’s only sex. I don’t want to be with someone that will casually hurt me. Are you going to casually hurt me, Matt?” she asked.
“Of course not,” I said.
“Are you going to intentionally hurt me?” she asked, a smile creeping across her cute face.
“No. Never,” I said.
“Don’t say never… Master,” she said. The image of her bent over the edge of my bed, hands tied behind her back and ass bright red from a thorough spanking flashed through my mind. She smiled, knowing she’d scored a point.
“You’re going to be all kinds of trouble aren’t you?”
“Only the good kind,” she said, nodding curtly.
We got to the restaurant, a nice little Hibachi restaurant I’d found years ago. It was late enough that they weren’t very busy and dark enough to be romantic. Perfect for a quiet, friendly dinner. The waitress led us to our seats and said, “As soon as we have at least four others we’ll start.” I nodded and glanced at the menu nervously. We were on the edge of the table in a corner, it felt very secluded and romantic despite the open layout.
“What’s good here… hmm… what should I call you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well… I would love to call you, Master… but you might think that’s inappropriate,” she said, giving me a flirty little pout. “And I don’t want to just call you, Matt and have you friendzone me,” she said. “How about, Sir? Would that be okay… Sir?” she said, looking at me with piercing green eyes. Damn she could push my buttons.
I nodded, “You can… but you need to cool it with all the flirty stuff if you want to start out with a friendship… agreed?”
She looked at me for a long moment before nodding. “Whatever you want… sir.”
I sighed, figuring that was as close to a victory as I was likely to get on the subject. We glanced at the menu when another group of four came in. Two of them sat next to me on my left, in the center of the table. The couple they were with, took the two seats on the other end of the table opposite Skye and I. It was Beth… and her husband. My eyes bugged out and I nearly choked on my tongue.
“You okay, Sir?” Skye asked, my panic evident on my face. My completely irrational panic. Why should I care? And yet, the reason I cared was obvious. Beth’s eyes snapped up and looked at us and I wanted to crawl under the table and die. She gave me a tiny wave as her husband sat next to her.
I decided to do my best and ignore it. I owed it to Skye to be the best date I could be. And, you know what? It was actually pleasant. Turns out when we weren’t nervous and horned up wanting thing to be romantic, we actually enjoyed each other’s company. “You actually like the DC movies?” I asked her at one point, “They’re garbage.”
“I suppose you like the MCU movies, huh?” she bantered back.
“No. Neither. They’re both pretty crass commercialism.”
“No they’re not. The Snydercut is amazing art, Sir,” she said. I rolled my eyes, something about her arguing with me and telling me I’m wrong while still calling me Sir was really endearing. The fact that she was doing it in public was pretty hot, actually. Truthfully though, the sexuality was on a low grade simmer. I was simply enjoying having someone to talk to. We discussed movies (which we greatly disagreed on) and politics (which we were surprisingly aligned on). She would occasionally stroke my hand or grab my thigh but behaved herself and we enjoyed the meal.
I will admit, I kept shooting glances over at Beth. At first, she kept looking at me but her husband whispered something and she completely ignored me after that. She smiled and laughed with her husband and their friends, oblivious to Skye and I as we chattered throughout dinner.
“I need to use the little girl’s room,” Skye said.
I grabbed her hand and leaned over to whisper, “Is that offer still good for the night to continue?”
“Of course, Sir,” she said with a smile.
“Come back without your panties and bra. And it’s ‘Master’ for the rest of the night.”
“Of course, Master,” she said without even pausing. I hadn’t intended for her to say that right there. I definitely hadn’t intended for her to say it loud enough for everyone at the table to hear it. Four sets of eyes looked at me. I only cared about one set, however. Beth’s eyes looked at me without judgement, just questions. She wasn’t ignoring me now.
Her husband leaned over and whispered something to her. She shook her head slightly back and forth then Reed spoke to his friends but he was loud enough for me to hear, “You guys want to come back to our place to party?”
Robert’s right hand was gesturing as he talked. His left hand was beside him and, judging by Beth’s squirming, he was clearly doing something to her. Their friends looked a little embarrassed and the man, whose name I hadn’t heard mentioned once, said, “Uhh… we better call it a night.”
“Ohhh… really… Beth wants to party like we used to… remember?” His eyes flicked over to me, “You know she’ll do what I tell her to.”
Beth just sat there, flushed with embarrassment but saying nothing. Instead, the other wife said something in her defense, “I think you’re a little drunk, Reed… Those days are behind us.”
“Really? They’re not behind my little Bethany here,” he said and he moved his left arm from her lap to around her shoulder. He looked me dead in the eyes as he continued talking to them, “She still has all those… needs,” he said. As he did, his fingers slipped down her blouse and groped her breast. Beth let out a tiny squeak and a sigh before she seemed to regain her composure and shook her shoulders in protest.
“We appreciate the offer, Reed. But I think you’d better get home and sleep it off,” the husband said and then got up to leave with his wife. Beth simply looked lost, confused and frustrated while Robert just stared at me with cold eyes and a sick grin.
“Master, I’m ready,” came a smooth voice into my ear. I don’t know if Reed and Beth heard. Skye had done enough to switch off the rational part of my brain already.
I stood up and laid $100 bill down that nearly doubled the bill. Yeah, it was a cheap shot and a stupid, macho flashy thing to do but I couldn’t help it. I looked Beth dead in the eyes and said, “Beth, nice seeing you,” then grabbed Skye’s hand and left.
“Oh… did you know them?” she asked as we walked out. My hand was on the small of her back as I opened the door and guided her into the cool evening air.
“I coach their kid,” I said curtly as I slid off my jacket and put it around Skye’s shoulders. She hugged it tight and gave me a little smile, appreciating the chivalrous gesture.
“He seemed like kind of an ass,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to forget about it.
“I think she must have had a plug in her ass,” Skye said as I held the car door open.
“What?” I asked, the door leaving my hand with a slam. I dashed around to the driver side and climbed in, repeating my question.
“I don’t know… just guessing. I’ve only squirmed like that when I’ve worn a butt plug to dinner. It’s really hot but kinda uncomfortable,” she said with a wicked smile.
“You really are full of surprises,” I said, putting my hand on her leg and sliding her dress up. The images in my mind of her and Beth, naked, plugged, and kneeling in service roaring through my mind like a violent whirlwind of sexuality.
“I don’t want to surprise you anymore tonight, Master. I want to stop making decisions… if that’s alright?”
I looked at her and gave her a kiss before tearing out of the parking lot. “Get your lips to work, slut,” I said. She was wrapped around my cock an instant later. Despite her best efforts, I made it home without cumming nor without wrecking my beautiful car. Good thing too because she seemed determined to keep me buried in her throat for the whole trip. We practically sprinted inside, clothes being flung off as we ran to the stairs that led to my bedroom loft. “I’m going to punish you for teasing me tonight, slut,” I said.
She giggled playfully as I pushed her onto the bed, “But, Master. Wasn’t I a good girl tonight? Didn’t you enjoy my company?”
I smiled as I leaned over her, a moment of tenderness creeping into my increasingly wicked heart. “I did actually. I’m very glad that you’re such a desperate cunt that you felt the need to beg for another chance to get fucked.”
“I didn’t be… aaaaggghhh… g,” she said, her feeble protest interrupted as my finger hooked into her sopping pussy and stroked her from the inside. “God… you know just how to touch me, Master.”
“MMm… and you know just how to submit, don’t you,” I said. She looked up at me, eyes fluttering as she nodded. She bit her lip and arched her back, luxuriating in the feeling of my fingers as they explored her intimately. “Show me you remember how,” I said and pulled my hand away. She let out an imploring whimper but didn’t complain. Instead, she hopped up, moving silently to the toy chest that was in the corner. She bent over, legs spread and cunt unashamedly on display as she reached in. It didn’t take her long before she pulled out three items and sauntered back to bed, proudly placing each of them next to me.
“Spreader bar. Butt plug… and the most wicked riding crop I could find. I want you to hurt me tonight, Master. Punish me for being a lousy date and for leaving you all alone for six months. Remind me who my little pussy belongs to,” she said as she slipped the cuffs on the spreader bar around her ankles then climbed awkwardly onto the bed. She stuck her hands between her legs to the wrist cuffs and fastened one, then positioned the other so that I could finish the job. She looked absolutely delectable bound up on the bed. Her body was completely vulnerable to me, all by her own free will. The thought made my cock ache.
I looked at her, letting my hands run over her and teasing her. I gave her exposed foot a little tickle, forcing a little squeak out of her. “Maybe I’ll just do that to you tonight, slut? Tickle your feet and kick you out all empty and unused.”
“If that’s what you want, Master,” she said. Her voice was full of supplication. Complete submission. Yup, my cock was hard as a rock. I grabbed the butt plug and slid it along her juicy pussy, lubing it up with her juices before sliding it in. Her ass welcomed the intrusion and she sighed, “Thank you for filling my useless hole, Master.”
I smacked her ass and she moaned, shaking her rump back at me. The purple latex plug stuck out obscenely as she moved her hips hypnotically. I gave each of her cheeks a couple more light smacks. Nothing serious, just a warm up. Then I grabbed the riding crop she’d picked out. The soft leather tip was small and the long black switch whistled wickedly through the air as I swung it around. Skye’s breathing was heavy, her whole body twitching as she imagined the pleasure and pain she was about to experience. For my part, I felt like my whole body was alive and humming. I flicked the switch down lightly, landing it on her ass and causing her to cry out. “Ohhhh,” she screamed, a mix of surprise and lust in her voice. “One… Thank you, Master.”
I did it again and again, two strikes in quick succession about an inch apart on her ass. The skin already looked red and there was a little welt rising from the first strike. I made a note to lighten up slightly, not wanting to injure such a beautiful toy. “Two, oh, three, Master. Thank you.”
I continued, giving her ten on each cheek before switching to her thighs. She obediently counted each one until I started stroking the riding crop around her pussy. “What will you do for me, slut?”
“Anything, Master?”
“You think you’re good enough to be my girlfriend?”
“No, Master,” she said. She gasped as I stroked the leather tip across her sensitive clit.
“You’re a fucktoy, slut. A dalliance. A distraction.”
“Yes, Master.”
“And I’m going to hurt you,” I said, my voice cold next to her ear. She shuddered and whimpered but said nothing, simply nodding. This was the game she liked. The game she’d begged me to play the first night. I’d told her then it was a dangerous game. A game of emotional manipulation. But it aroused her incredibly. It aroused me too. “Now, slut. I’m going to whip your cunt five times.”
“Five, Master?” she asked, her voice almost breaking.
“Is that a problem, bitch?” I asked, seizing her hair tightly and forcing her to look at me.
“No, Master,” she said simply, “My body is your toy to use.”
“If you avoid cumming, I’ll fuck your precious little pussy. If you fail me… well… you’ll be empty tonight and I’ll be very, very angry. Understand?”
“Yes, Master. I’ll try, Master,” she simpered.
I struck her three times in rapid succession between the legs. Her body twitched and shuddered as she screamed. She tried to close her legs but the metal bar wouldn’t allow it. There was no escape. I stroked the rod across her clit again and she whimpered with a need that I’d rarely heard come from a woman before. Skye was truly a pain slut and we both knew it. “Master… Matt… can I ask something?”
Her using my name should have broken the mood. Surprisingly, I found it almost more attractive. That she was willing to do that showed a certain level of comfort that I found strangely encouraging. “Of course.”
“Do you want me to cum… or not?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well… I thought… maybe you wanted to spend the night… you know… punishing me,” she said.
I smiled and didn’t respond, letting the question hang there. I was so lost in the moment and enjoying the game I actually hadn’t thought about what I wanted. I was simply enjoying tormenting such a willing slave. I smacked her pussy a fourth time without any warning and she hissed out a loud, “Yessssss.”
Then I whispered, “Cum for me, slut,” and struck her pussy again. Her whole body shook and quaked, jerking violently against the restraints while she screamed in pure pleasure. I climbed up behind her and said, “Now I’m going to fuck you like a proper whore.”
“I thought you were going to punish me and leave my pussy empty,” she said.
I pulled the butt plug out and slid my cock smoothly in, “I’m going to do both you dumb slut.”
“Yessss, Master,” she sighed in happiness.
I worked her over for almost an hour after that. Getting myself off with her ass, mouth and my own hand but leaving her pussy empty as promised. She was a babbling mess at the end of the night and we collapsed in bed, completely spent. When I woke up, there was a note on the nightstand that simply said, “Come downstairs, Master.”
I grabbed a pair of flannel pajamas and wandered downstairs. Skye was whistling in the kitchen as she walked around making what looked like waffles. I didn’t know we owned a waffle iron!
Almost reading my mind, she looked over her shoulder and winked at me, “It was way back in one of the pantries in a cardboard box. I love waffles,” she said. “Also, I brought my own clothes this time… Master.”
I noticed she was wearing a pair of short, loose shorts and a loose tank top that showed off almost all of her beautiful breasts. The red stripes from last night were visible on the sides of her breast and her thighs. I knew her ass was probably a mess. We’d both gotten a little carried away. Before I could sit down, there was a soft knock at the door. I walked down the hall, assuming it was an Amazon delivery. Instead, I opened the door and was surprised to see Beth and Alex.
“Beth?” I said, surprised. I looked at my watch. She was an hour early. “You’re early,” I said.
She looked at hers and said, “No… 11am,” she said, her brow furrowed.
“It’s 10am… daylight savings time was last night.”
“Oh… shit… this is why I should use a digital watch,” she said with a laugh. “Is now a problem?”
Before I could say anything, Skye called from the kitchen, “Breakfast is ready, Master. I made it extra big,” she laughed loud enough for Beth and I to both hear, “Just like you!”
Beth blushed and I forced a smile, “It’s a little inconvenient.”
Comments
Thanks on both counts ;) Glad you're enjoying the writing. Makes it easy to keep it going!
MR Green
Great story
master
I really want to see where this one goes
Fantastic job, can’t wait for part two!
MacDaddyD
FYI, I noticed I noticed Beth’s husband had a name change from Reed to Robert half way through. You might want to fix that. 😆
MacDaddyD
Brilliant as always! I promise I won’t ask you to keep this story going after the next chapter. It’s just been so easy to get emmersed in your writing lately.
