The Mistress and the Mouse

by JJ Giles

  “Well, she’s back and apparently you don’t know that.”

  “Hadn’t heard. But the truth is she isn’t expecting me tonight or any other. I moved out of the Mansion months ago. A few days after I met you.”

  For a moment, her jaw hung slack. “That bitch has been playing me all the way through this. Not that you didn’t warn me.”

  Adamantly, Jerry nodded. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I would have been happy to explain it to you, but you came at me with the preconceived notion that I’m a lowlife wife-beater. I think you have some hang-ups as far as wealth goes, too. The point is I didn’t expect you to believe anything I told you about that woman. A woman I’ve lived with for thirty five years and has played my dick right into the dirt.”

  With such an expressive image to dwell upon she turned away. Without raising her vision to meet his she whispered, “I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re right about all of it. My first experience with decadently wealthy people was a job interview with JD Rockingham.”

  Jerry drew in a deep breath. “He told me about it, honey. Thought I should know that you used to be one of his corporate whores. It never occurred to me until then that you knew my father. But you did know him, I realize that now. That’s why you came at me the way you did. And because I know what JD and the old man were into, I don’t expect you to believe anything I have to say.”

  For a long moment she stared into him. It seemed her blood congealed. “You say JD and your father were into it?”

  “Yes, they were.” He cringed. “But it fits, doesn’t it? Rotten men with rotten women, so to speak.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Honey, I’m so sorry. I know what looking through the window watching did to me. I can only imagine what you, who were there, went through. And uhh...since I haven’t seen anything but the most temperate of devices in your clutch, I assume you don’t go there.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I also understand now that my e-mails may have totally turned you off at first because you associated me and my father.”

  “I’ll admit to that.”

  He studied the tiny, shallow creases at the edges of her eyes a moment. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled bitterly. “I uhh...saw what was going down though, you know. You get to be a certain age, past your prime, all the way twenty two or twenty three and you’re kinda used up.”

  “I know how they operated.” Those were the ones that disappeared over night.

  “I had that sneakin’ suspicion that my name was about to come up and so I split. Went to California for a year.”

  “I’m truly grateful you had enough sense to save yourself. My father wouldn’t have hesitated to devise a death so painfully heinous for you and be holding you in his arms and fucking you while you died.”

  “Oh, God.” She thrashed out of the chair to get away. Filled with agony, she shook uncontrollably. She had suspected that’s how so many of them ended up. “Where are the bodies?”

  “Landfills from one end of this country to the other. That’s where the Abernathy fortune started. Landfills and toxic waste.”

  Tears began to drip from her eyes. “He was a perverted, sick son of a bitch, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he was. He didn’t have a problem visiting those perversions on his sons, either.”

  “Oh, Jerry. I’m so sorry,” she choked, understanding now what he must have lived with.

  “The point is I didn’t expect you to believe anything I told you. And I told JD to fuck off because you belong to me now. I know exactly who he is and he’s very aware that I know all about it although he was trying to tell me I shouldn’t get too attached to you.”

  With a huffy sneer, she looked away from him.

  “So I know exactly where you copped an attitude with wealthy people.” His voice was gentle. “JD’s got more than he can count and he likes to watch people dance to get his attention...and his money.” Idly, he scraped at his facial bristle. “I also told him to fuck off because I know exactly who I’ve fallen in love with.”

  Quickly, her head jerked to his direction and her breath stopped as if he held a pillow over her face. “Jerry…” But she had no place to go with it, not even to protest.

  “It’s alright,” he whispered sincerely. “I know you have some issues. Trust is a big one. I got a lotta time on my hands.”

  Her face dropped to her hand to hide there.

  “Morgan, I didn’t tell you this to pressure you. The truth is, you came to my office for something and I’d like to give it to you. If you haven’t gotten it yet, you can have anything you want.”

  He watched her confusion for a moment, wished he hadn’t confessed. But there was nothing left to hide from her anymore.

  “Now that I’ve confessed, you’re uneasy. The truth is you haven’t sent me an invoice for your services since our trip to St. Maarten because you’re getting something out of it, too. It just doesn’t seem right to charge someone for something that feels that good.” Rather than let her feel pressured about it, to maintain more of a business relationship, he moved to his desk and opened the drawer for his checkbook. He flipped through a few calendar pages and added the time in his head. Quickly, he scribbled it out and held it in front of her.

  “Jerry...” Adamantly, she shook her head, refusing to accept it.

  “Please. You notice I left the payee line blank. Donate it to charity if you like. If this makes you feel safe, I do not have a problem with it.”

  She took the check and closed her eyes on it. A hundred and twenty five thousand dollars, she thought. But he was right. She was getting much too much out of it to charge him for the time they spent together. The truth was she was in love with him. But she still had the strength to deny it.

  Without further delay, she tore it in half and laid it on the desk. Quickly, she stood without any emotional expressiveness other than a body tightened properly to do business. “Your reward for your very dutiful service. Can you be there by six?”

  He glanced at the clock. “I can be ready by five.”

  “Alright. Five o’clock.”

  “But may I ask a question?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you my reward?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “Then if Kitty is my reward, may I hang you so you can watch this time?”

  “In front of my submissive? I don’t think so.” Her unguarded playfulness, something he saw in St. Maarten and fell in love with was before him again. “But if you were to string me up, what would it be?”

  His stomach lurched to the second expression of submissiveness he’d seen in her. He circled the desk and pulled her to stand against him. Gently, a single finger of both hands drew soft little circles on her throat and around her neck. “Black velvet, darling.” Those same fingers swept over her shoulders and down her back to enclose her ribcage. “White leather.” They traveled between her breasts and around them. “Gold plated logging chains, if you prefer.” They dropped straight to the crescent of her body and then swirled over her hips.

  Hopelessly enchanted with the thought of his restraining devices, she leaned in a little. “But your Mistress looks like a horror in white and she never wears gold.”

  He nodded as his fingertips brushed to the sides of her neck and locked in back that his thumbs might softly stroke her jawline. “Then black velvet it is....until I can get those chains plated in bronze.”

  Her eyes fluttered as they peered up at him. He could easily see she could succumb to that, to him, to his fantasies. Yet something in her was reticent. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

  She looked away only to lay her head on his shoulder. Her body heaved with the thought of it.

  But that was alright, too. Just a little like having a virgin. “But you need it,” he whispered. “You would have never answered my e-mails if you didn’t.” He crushed her breasts to his chest forcing her face to his neck.

  Her voice sounded like the flutter
of a prayer to the Virgin in a foreign tongue.

  “Ah, Lady Morgan.” Voraciously, he gathered her ass in his hand.

  * * * *

  “Fuck,” she whispered. She descended in the elevator and went to the street. Without hesitation, she pulled out her cell and dialed.

  “Rick, it's Morgan.”

  “Hey, baby, how the hell are ‘ya?”

  “Is there any chance you can get some time off tonight?”

  He laughed a little. “I guess you hadn’t heard I’m back on the circuit. I appreciate you getting me that job and she was pretty cool. The old man was an asshole. I told him to take his job and his dick and stuff it all up his ass.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?” She was sincerely pissed that one of her submissives had been mistreated and was currently unemployed.

  “Because I just got back from the vacation of my dreams. Spent the last two months riding a bike around Europe with a buddy of mine. Right now I’m just hanging at my brother’s place doing a little freelance work.”

  “I’m sorry. I interviewed that couple very carefully.”

  “Don’t worry about it, baby. If he wasn’t such an asshole, his wife wouldn’t have been ready to run off with any piece of cock she could get her hands on.”

  She laughed a little. “Anyway, can you get it up for a guy who isn’t an asshole?”

  “Honey, you know I can. Top or bottom?”

  “Bottom, sweetie.”

  “Not a problem. Let me make a few phone calls and when do you want me?”

  “About four.”

  “Cool. So what the hell is Mouse’s problem he doesn’t want to play tonight?”

  Morgan cringed inside. “He left me. Haven’t seen him for almost four and a half months now.”

  A protracted silence was a void between them. “Is there something wrong with the man? Did you beat him in the head?”

  She smiled a little to hear his take on the situation, that Brian’s problem had something to do with a head injury. “We’ll talk sometime. I appreciate you stepping in.”

  “See ya’ in a little bit.”

  She walked through the front door of the Waterford and went to the elevator. Damn, she thought, the corny canned music only background noise. She had worked with men who were afraid of women all of her life. She hadn’t realized how deep it was in Jerry.

  * * * *

  “Hey, baby,” Rick whispered happily.

  “You’re looking good,” she said. She was just happy to see an old friend.

  He smiled. “I’m worried about you, though. You gotta be having a hard time.”

  “I can’t even talk about it yet.” She turned away.

  “Oh honey.” He scooped her off the barstool into his arms. Easily, she lingered in the adamant embrace of a man who cared for her. “I’m so sorry. When I run into him, I’ll punch him out for you.”

  She began to laugh and backed away. “He’s having some problems. Hopefully, he can get ‘em worked out.”

  Rick nodded. “So what’s tonight?”

  “You’re gonna get disciplined.” It sounded as if she were offering him an all-expenses-paid cruise. “I’ve got a client I’ve worked over a little too hard, I think.”

  “And you, you sweet thing, you’re gonna set him free. Let that inner-disciplinarian come out and play for awhile.”

  “But because he’s a big man around town, you’re gonna get blindfolded.”

  Rick shrugged and leered lasciviously. “Big man, you say?”

  “Much above average.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Only a few minutes later, Rick was clean and her finger embedded in his body to get him oiled properly. She contemplated an injection but thought better of it because Jerry might wish to see it rise for him. The hood was placed over his head, the forearm cuffs installed and she hooked his hands behind his neck with a length of leather and then wrapped that around his throat.

  She couldn’t decide if he should be standing or kneeling. As an afterthought she placed leg irons around his ankles and left him with a sixteen-inch lead.

  “Comfy?”

  “You know it, baby.”

  She left him standing, the ring on the hood attached to the chain on the ceiling and went to change.

  * * * *

  The confines of her nineteenth floor apartment overlooking the river felt safe, cozy, nurturing in a way he never before understood. It was so unlike the sprawling century-old mansion he was raised in and got the hell out of. This was comfortable, even the air was softly scented with perfume. Perhaps it was the starkness of the anteroom, a vivid contrast to her bedchamber. How much does a man really need, anyway? A woman, for that matter?

  The note inside the door invited him to her parlor. Yet he stopped in the bathroom to disrobe and clean himself. With her he preferred nudity anyway.

  She knew exactly who he was, every blackened corner of his heart and still she came to him, approached him readily like today. Even though she had charged him double that of her other clients because of some issues about wealth, still, she came to him today, at least.

  He walked the few steps to the parlor and opened the door. And then he gasped to see a man hung, a beautiful man, a young man with all the proper proportions of an Adonis. The rigid thighs encased in muscles and chains, the huge pecs and a six-pack to truly inspire awe.

  Tentatively, he moved in and stared at her. She was smiling, her arms comfortably laid on the wooden arms of her throne, her legs crossed to receive her admirers. He glanced again at the victim as he walked past and then descended before her.

  “What have you done?”

  “We’ll talk later. Right now, you may simply enjoy your reward.”

  In awe, he stared at her sparkling eyes. Simply overcome, he fell forward and lingered over a breast. And then he stood and presented the penis.

  With such generous grace, she poured the nail polish remover over it to melt the Superglue and return it to him. And then she offered the table full of implements to his use.

  Instantly, he hardened at the sight of penis nails, nipple nails, a coil of abrading rope. A riding crop, a nasty little quirt. There was no electricity, no chemicals in sight. But that she offered this so generously...

  Without hesitation, he went to the victim and stood by its side. A hand front and back swept over the hard contours covered in the softest moisturized skin, every hair on its body other than its head removed. So smooth, so heartbreakingly soft like a baby, yet his palms lingered over the hardened nipples.

  The ass...so tight. Without any desire to restrain himself, a finger drove into that tightness as his hand slid down the front and took possession of the penis.

  The slave lurched. The power in that penetration something it had missed for awhile now. A deep lulling moan echoed out of its chest.

  Jerry retreated, feeling his heart thudding in his chest. Too much...his sweet Lady Morgan doing this for him. But he needed the voice, needed desperately the emotional output and he yanked the hood from the slave.

  Blatantly, Rick stared, his mouth agape. Jerry Abernathy! The meanest motherfucker to ever roam the world! In horror, he glanced at Morgan and then back to Jerry. “Morgan,” he cried out in panic.

  With an embellishment that sounded exactly like flames racing over oiled wood, the Master offered, “You are my reward.” His features seemed to twist into something inhuman, something possessed.

  It left Rick shivering, debilitated, and he prayed that Morgan loved him enough to save him.

  Jerry reached up and tugged at the rope around his neck freeing his hands. Panicked, Rick’s eyes darted for a means of escape.

  “I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” Jerry warned.

  Yet try it he did, and then he lurched away. Jerry grabbed him tightly, his arms like bands of steel, his fingers like lobster claws on the balls.

  Enraptured, Morgan watched as Jerry rent the victim. Rick’s panic was profuse, his face reddened with a
n adrenaline rush. Jerry merely had to reach up for the chain to hopelessly trap the victim. How ingratiating to see that it was the elbows hooked rather than the wrists. It left Rick’s face protected by his upper arms.

  Jerry turned away and returned to the table for chainmail. It slid over the penis and then the balls. A phallus was inserted, and now time for the fun.

  * * * *

  Even Morgan was exhausted, having hung on every crack of the whip, every soft sigh and horrible sob from the victim. That Jerry knew what to do with whips was obvious in the way he started slow and then went for the kill. A warm-up with a flogger, and then a layer of welts with a riding crop. A few deeper sensations with a bullwhip and the dessert, that nasty little quirt leaving an afterburn of such delight.

  Rick was veritably sobbing as Jerry dropped him to the floor.

  Jerry smiled. He hadn’t attempted this for years, but this one looked like he could handle it. Jerry pulled the phallus from Rick’s body and then rolled him to his back. Kneeling between Rick’s legs, Jerry gathered them up and rolled Rick forward.

  Uncontrollably, Morgan squirmed.

  The soft pleading sighs gave way to garbled choking as Rick was curled and his penis was forced into his own mouth. Jerry’s weapon hovered just beyond redemption.

  “You don’t come unless I tell you to,” Jerry snarled. Like a strike of lightning, Jerry drove into the contorted body.

  Quivering uncontrollably, Morgan reached out blindly for a cigarette, unable to tear away from the scene before her. The long fluid stokes seemed the bow of the violin, the suckling and slurping of the slave, the refrain. The cigarette in the ashtray glowed with a preternatural light and yet she lit another, unable to know what she was doing.

  “You ready, boy?” Jerry snarled.

  Rick’s lips tightened on his own penis; the muscles in his throat contracted violently. A few short but very powerful bursts from the Master delivered him into such shining ecstasy and with that he cried out. Yet he choked on his own semen, and Jerry yanked out of him to let him breathe.

  Quietly, Jerry stood as the slave lay on the floor, choking an air passage open. And then Rick rolled over wholly rent, panting to cure near-asphyxiation.