The Mistress and the Mouse

by JJ Giles

  “I admit...for a lot of years I blamed Cheryl. Her lack of commitment to not just me, but to the family. And then I decided I couldn’t do it by myself and my kids are in a mess over it. My son has had a totally fucked up life. Has witnessed as much violence as a soldier at war. The damage my decisions have done to their emotional well-being is right in my face at the moment and it’s making me ill.”

  “It’s not too late,” she whispered adamantly.

  “You’re right. I don’t think it is. I think my son is starting to question what’s gone wrong all these years and try to understand it. For so long he just wanted the hell away from it, but finally he’s starting to look around. It scares me what he’s going to find out.”

  “What’s he gonna find out?”

  “He already knows he’s not my son. I don’t think he knows his mother was and is a prostitute.”

  Simply astounded, she stared openly for a moment. And then she looked away.

  Seeing that he had just hurt her, his tone urgent, he said, “Morgan, you’re taking what I said all wrong. It’s one thing to be a prostitute, knowing you provide a service for people who enjoy and sometimes need what you offer. It’s something entirely different to be a prostitute and think of everyone else who practices the art as a whore.”

  She drew in a heavy breath and turned to him finally. “I’m not ashamed of what I do, Jerry. But I’m very cognizant of what other people think.”

  “I wouldn’t ever want you to be ashamed of what you do,” he said emphatically. “Right now I need you more than I can express, more than I’ve got money to pay you and we haven’t technically engaged in sex yet. Are you hearing me?” Desperately he wanted her to know he didn’t think of her as others did and that what he felt for her went much deeper than that.

  “Dear Jesus, I’ve really fucked this one up, haven’t I?” she whispered.

  “What do you mean, baby?”

  “I’m trying to teach her to be submissive to you and I’m doing it backwards. Those e-mails you sent gave me the impression...” She gasped to cure her frustration.

  He drew in a deep breath and sighed. “She’s got enough on me to fuck up my kids and Abernathy Acquisitions real bad, honey.”

  “So that’s why you’ve prostituted yourself and financed her life all these years?”

  “That would be it. But the day my son saw her beat up so bad and came to me telling me I need to get help or get prosecuted, he left your card laying on the floor. I can’t decide whose helping me more. My son who turned me on to you, or you.”

  “It’s alright,” she whispered. “I’m beginning to understand how you’ve lived.”

  Her vision trailed off to ponder it. If everything she heard was true, if everything she knew, witnessed, sensed and believed was true, then every notion she had about wealth and the people who have it was impossible to apply to this next generation of the Abernathys.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kitty laid serenely on Morgan’s breast as Morgan stroked through her hair. “Dan and Caroline will be here in about an hour,” she reminded.

  “Yeah,” Morgan said off-handedly. She was simply miserable to be in her own home without Brian. “I may invite them to dinner so you go lay out something she can help you with and meet me downstairs.”

  Kitty hesitated. She wanted to form the thought carefully. To remind Morgan that she could call Mouse and demand he explain himself because Morgan had been nothing but miserable. But Kitty thought better of it. Maybe what Morgan needed was to be here by herself and fill it up with other people. Maybe Morgan was headed in the right direction anyway, because she never invited her submissives to dinner.

  Morgan went to the shower, did a half-assed make-up job and took the backstairs to the basement. There, Kitty waited in the bedchamber off the dungeon, the clothes Morgan would wear already laid out.

  Morgan sat on the edge of the bed as Kitty rolled the black lace stockings up her legs and slipped the stilettos on her feet. She stepped into the black leather corset and allowed Kitty to pull it up around her waist. Morgan stood before the mirror as Kitty laid the beautiful intricately woven chains over her breasts and hooked them around her neck, went to the back to lace it tightly.

  “You are a knockout,” Kitty whispered.

  “I appreciate you taking care of me, baby,” Morgan whispered. Gently, she took Kitty into her arms and hugged her.

  Kitty nuzzled her cheek to the chains on Morgan’s chest and wrapped her arms around Morgan’s tight waist. The only thing missing around here now was a male. A well-hung male could take Morgan’s mind off of Mouse and they could come home again every night instead of lingering in that single room in Morgan’s condo. But how was Kitty to suggest it? And if that male were Jerry Abernathy--a man Kitty had grown very fond of... But how was she to suggest it without reminding Morgan of Mouse?

  Just then, the dungeon doorbell rang and echoed through the lower level, the organ music sounding like something out of a horror movie.

  “Go,” Morgan ordered.

  Quickly, Kitty stretched long and kissed Morgan’s chin. Hurriedly, she ran to answer the call.

  Dan and Caroline stood beyond the door having succumbed to the romance of Morgan’s estate. Caroline veritably quivered in his arm. “You gonna have an accident, Baby?” he asked.

  She laughed a little. She peered up into his eyes, her smile filled with nothing but excitement and then the door opened to reveal that cute little thing Morgan kept with her standing completely naked and so horribly seductive.

  “Come in,” Kitty whispered.

  “Thank you,” Dan said. His own voice broke with excitement. Together they stood for a moment and peered around the bleakness of a windowless room. Blue spotlights were trained on various pieces of equipment neither of them knew anything about. And there was a leather sofa, a few overstuffed leather chairs and ottoman, and a bar in the corner.

  “If you follow me, you may prepare your slave to present to Mistress Morgan,” Kitty mewed.

  Dan nodded, his fingers digging deeper into his wife’s upper arm. Gently, he urged her forward to follow Kitty through the avenues of equipment, his eyes caught on that sweet little ass on narrow legs. Through a threshold, they found themselves in a marble covered room with a whirlpool, massage table, shower and dressing room.

  “If you would kindly undress her, please,” Kitty mewed.

  His heart palpitated as he took Caroline’s bag from her and placed it on a nearby bench. She was visibly shaking, as he was internally. Yet he acquiesced to the instructions and turned his wife to unzip her dress and allow her to step out of it, hanging it carefully from a hook. He opened the bra and let it her fall off her shoulders, revealing her hardened nipples to Kitty. The little sandals were kicked aside.

  Kitty smiled seeing how self-conscious Caroline was to this exposure, remembering it vividly herself. But when Morgan trained her, Morgan took that away from her so she could think only of Morgan. “Lay her over the table so you can clean her.”

  With his fingers to the small of her back he urged Caroline forward.

  “Always be careful with your breasts,” Kitty warned. “Morgan loves breasts like this.” Uninhibited, she reached out and lifted them. Carefully, she turned Caroline and pulled her gently to break over the massage table, her breasts carefully tucked under her. “Open your legs.”

  Kitty smiled. She loved the excitement these new ones always exuded. She tossed her head at Dan.

  “She needs to be very fresh to present to Morgan,” Kitty whispered. She then pulled two hoses out and screwed nozzles to them. She handed the nozzles to Dan.

  Simply trembling, he took them. Carefully, he inserted one in the vagina, but hesitated at the anus.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” Kitty assured him.

  Yet very gently, he inserted it and turned on the water.

  He stood back a bit and grinned at Kitty. “This is so fucking exciting.”

  Kitty laughed. Their excitemen
t was infecting her and she could only hope it would have the same effect on Morgan. “You are permitted to remove your shirt and shoes if you’d like. I suggest you do. And when you present your submissive to Mistress Morgan, you have a choice. You may present her or allow her to present herself.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It depends on how you want to connect with Morgan,” Kitty instructed. “When Morgan comes in, you must take your submissive to her, leading your submissive on her hands and knees. You must bow before Morgan and raise her hand and kiss the back of it. Only then may you raise your submissive off the floor, grasp her nipples and raise her breasts to lay in Morgan’s hands. Or--you may back away and allow your submissive to offer her breasts to Mistress.”

  Dan nodded. “And if I do it?”

  “Morgan will consider her a gift from you rather than a submissive begging attention on her own.”

  “Right.” He watched Kitty remove the hoses and softly whisper to his wife to go to the toilet. “Morgan gets pissed pretty easy, doesn’t she?”

  Kitty nearly laughed. “You’re being instructed now, paying her for that instruction. Everything I’ve explained is merely the protocol of this house. The way Morgan wants it. She’s not really too hard on clients like she would be me.”

  Kitty threw a towel at him and he dried his wife. She handed him a cruet of oil and he dabbed it generously where it might be needed.

  “Ready?” she asked happily.

  Dan shook as he grabbed his wife up. Yet Kitty produced a collar and leash.

  “Oh, God,” he prayed. Eagerly, he placed the sparkling studded collar around his wife’s neck and hooked the leash to it.

  “Down,” Kitty roared. Caroline fell to her hands and knees. Kitty led them back to the discipline room and left them by the horse while Kitty went to the armless slipper chair upholstered in the purest black suede. Beside it, she descended so gracefully to her knees, locked a wrist in a hand and thrust her breasts forward to please her Mistress.

  Dan looked down to see his naked wife seemingly calm while he felt as if he was coming unglued. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly to cure the ache. No wonder people paid Morgan every dime she expected. He peered around at the various pieces of equipment, noted the uses and then let his vision travel over the wall adorned with whips and blindfolds.

  Just then, he felt a presence like a starved predator. He turned his head to see her standing in the threshold, perhaps the most exquisite woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Legs as long as tree trunks appearing equally sturdy. A waist cinched small, the chains over the breasts and chest. Leather gloves almost to her shoulders, and the entire package as smooth and curvaceous as an undulating wave ready to swamp his reason.

  He drew another deep breath and steadied himself. It would have required a head injury to tear his eyes from her as she moved effortlessly in those daggered heels, the muscles of her legs covered in black lace still visible. The soft layer of fat on those inner thighs. And the way she sat against the black suede demurely arranged, one leg placed carefully over the other, those exquisite legs off to the side and her body turned at the waist was distracting at least. A dominant woman fully possessed of femininity--the embodiment of a concept he could appreciate.

  Morgan looked directly into him for a moment. He felt the connection as if it were a laser cutting into him. She tossed her head to allow him to advance.

  As if he walked on hot coals, he moved forward and tugged the leash. Morgan smiled inside. He was allowing himself to be commanded rather than commanding his submissive. But this afternoon she would demonstrate. He would learn. As he arrived he bowed before her and reached out for her hand. The smell of the leather was intoxicating as he brushed his lips over her glove, held it in his hand a moment and then released it. Gently, he tugged on his submissive’s leash to pull her up. He nudged her from behind to move her forward. And then he grasped his wife’s nipples and held her breasts up.

  Morgan expression remained as stern and unyielding as she reached out to allow those breasts to be placed in her hands, full, lovely breasts, as she peered down her nose at his submissive shamelessly flirting with her, the flutter of the eyelashes, the seductive little smile trimmed in the softest shade of petal pink. Yet he held to the leash when others might have dropped it beside Morgan. He still needed to retain control of his wife, even if he didn’t realize it.

  Morgan held the breasts, massaged them a little as she rolled the nipples between her fingers. “In my presence, you place your hands behind your back and you always avert your gaze unless I tell you to look at me.”

  Quickly, Caroline complied and whispered, “Yes, Mistress.”

  Aggravated, Morgan tightly pinched the nipples. “And you don’t speak unless I tell you to, you just do it.”

  Caroline nodded and dropped her chin to her chest, content to watch her breasts be fondled by Morgan’s leather-covered hands.

  “So,” Morgan started as she peered up at Dan, “you’ve come to discipline your slave.”

  The very words made him stiffen even more. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Is your slave permitted to be penetrated?”

  “Of course,” he nearly gasped.

  Morgan turned to Kitty. “Chainmail bra, 42DD, and forearm cuffs.”

  Kitty leapt and ran as Morgan only continued to softly stroke even more lust into those breasts, if that was possible. Gently, Kitty laid those things in Morgan’s lap.

  “Arms,” Morgan ordered.

  Quickly, Caroline released herself and held her arms before Morgan. Yet Morgan handed the right one to Dan. He was still so new at this, and asked his wife to hold out her arm. Imperceptibly, Kitty laughed as she nudged Morgan.

  But it was completed...finally...both arms tethered and then she held up the bra by the chain straps.

  Just the sound of the links clanking softly infused new life into him. He slipped it over his wife’s head, her arms through holes and laid it on her shoulders. He bent over to pull her breasts through the holes. Quickly, he jerked on the ribbon in back and cinched it tightly, finishing quite decoratively in a little bow.

  A three-inch circumference around the nipple was still exposed and protruding through a cutout in the chainmail. “Pull the string through the barrel lock as tightly as you can to protect her breasts, leaving her nipples to your use.”

  He was about to vomit, he was so excited. But he did it and then peered over Caroline’s head to see her breasts squashed against her chest and the nipples engorged to glorious color, little peaks of rose and cream forced to the fore.

  “Where would you like to begin?” Morgan asked.

  He turned and pointed to the horse. Morgan motioned that he take her there. She handed him the Ping-Pong paddle.

  * * * *

  Nearly twenty minutes had passed as Morgan and Kitty watched sipping southern iced tea, Morgan in her chair, Kitty at her side.

  “He’s doing pretty well,” Kitty commented.

  “Yeah,” Morgan said full of boredom. “You want a little?”

  “Need you ask?” Kitty said dryly. She hied to the net, hooked her heels and reached up for the cuffs.

  With definition, Morgan commanded, “Give her a break now. Lay her on the sofa and let her rest a minute and you can learn something about riding crops.”

  But to turn away from his wife’s boiling ass was a misery just then. The fluid that flowed from her was inebriating and he wanted nothing more than to stroke even more frustration into her. Yet he acquiesced. Tenderly, he cuddled his wife in his arms and then laid her on the sofa where she could watch.

  The crop felt electric in his hand. The fiberglass shaft was as sensitive as his graphite fishing rods capable of sending the smallest vibration at the end of it back to his hand.

  “Nothing above the nipples,” Morgan ordered wanting to keep Kitty’s beautiful face beautiful. “Start with her thighs.”

  Morgan stood back and watched a moment. He wouldn’t do a
ny damage with a riding crop. She went to the sofa, lifted Caroline that she might sit down and then pulled Caroline into her lap.

  “You having fun yet?”

  Caroline glanced at her husband and then against prohibition, peered into Morgan. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

  Morgan smiled and bent forward to kiss her moist lips. “We’ll get to the good stuff here in a minute. Would it bother you if he took Kitty?”

  Caroline hesitated. “I guess not.”

  Morgan nodded. It would most definitely bother her. Yet she lay contentedly in Morgan’s lap and watched while he struck out at another submissive.

  Over Kitty’s muffled sobs, Morgan shouted, “Enough.”

  Dan turned, shivering. He had been so lost in the art the quivering muscles, the sound of the chains rattling every time he struck out. He let the last of those vibrations course through him and dissipate.

  “I never realized how much control you have to exert to be successful,” he said boldly.

  “Very good,” Morgan said quite happy with that statement. “If someone has to go to the hospital when you’re through with them, you fucked up.”

  He nodded. Plainly, he understood that.

  “But your submissive here. You can do her nipples and then you can take her.”

  Feeling a sense of command now, he snapped his fingers Caroline. She jumped and Morgan stood behind her to hold her wrists together, her shoulders wrenched back, what little breast meat exposed to the fore. The crop stretched out and contacted one.

  Caroline cried out but it only enlivened him. Morgan held to her even tighter.

  That flesh was about to burst, he noted. He laid the crop aside and grasped her collar to drag her away from Morgan and return her to the horse. Without any further instruction, he strapped her down and opened his pants.

  Intently, Morgan watched as he tore into her vagina. She was more interested in how long he could hold out, how much control he had of the penis now. That he had learned to effectively change the rhythm, retreat and then advance again pleased her entirely.