Kitty & Teddy, LLC Ch. 03

She locked up my feet, with no slack, shoved in an egg dildo and butt plug, then dropped me on a doggy bed. What was twisted was that she went through all that herself, but more: bigger gag, full size vibrator and a blindfold. She cuddled up close, which was nice, but she got too close. My fingertips could just reach her cunt, though not the vibrator in it. Gods, I was hot. She set that egg on a low throb, and it was getting to me. She may have licked me to a fucking great orgasm earlier, but turnabout is fair play. I was ready to score some points of my own.

I could just reach the folds of her cunt, so I set to stroking them, while struggling for a hair more reach. She moaned and twitched, but she did not pull back. I grabbed a pinch of her pubic hairs and pulled. She howled into that big ass gag, jerking even more than before, but she did not pull back. That was the game. She got herself in this situation, and she had to live with it. That was OK by me. Carefully, I stroked one of her labium with my fingernails.

I love that word: labium major, meaning upper cunt lip. I ran my index fingernail up the outside of her left labium major, and down the inside of her right. Her labia were spreading quite nicely, so I shifted to the top of her clitoral hood, and scratched. Sheila was moaning and writhing. It was hard to do what I had to do, but I kept at it. Eventually, I felt her erect clit slide free of the hood. Time for the coup de grace. Pulling back my finger, I curled my big finger against my thumb and flicked. Whiff. I did not want her to react to what I was trying, so I loaded up again. This time I just grazed it, though you would have thought Sheila was struck by lightning. One more time ought to do it. Aiming lower this time, since I had been missing high, I fired my fuck you finger one more time. GOOOAAALLLLL!!!!!

Sheila was doing her very best imitation of an earthquake. Suddenly something hard impacted my fingers. It had to be the dildo. Straining to reach out, I could just get three fingers on the plastic head. That was enough, because it started vibrating a lot faster.

Sheila:

I should have known Francine would not take things lying down, so to speak. She quickly found that she could reach my tender spots. First she grabbed a pinch of my newly trimmed landing strip, and tried to pull hair out. That was not enough. She was soon running a fingernail up the outside of one lip and the inside of the other. Worse, the stimulation was causing my clit to push out. She teased it with a painful scratching motion until the clit pulled clear of the hood. Then she flicked with her fingernail. Ouch, but not too bad. She just grazed it. The next flick caught me full on. I came so hard I think I passed out for a blink. Then the bitch turned the vibrator up to full.

Enough. We both needed sleep tonight, and I would not get any with the vibrator on full. I rolled off, and pushed up the blindfold. I had to acknowledge the point, so I took out the gag. "Touché. That hurt, you freaky bitch. I was nice so you could practice when you needed to. Then you treat me like a pincushion. Fuck Francine, I think I passed out for a second. You win. Let me give you your prize."

I pulled the plug out of her ass and unlocked the cuffs. I did not turn off the vibrator, but I did give her the remote. "If you want more, get up on the bed."

Francine was also a bit shaky, but she managed to sit on the edge of the bed. That was close enough. I knee walked over and buried my face in her pussy. The vibrator was still on; I could feel it with my tongue, but that was no problem. I pushed her clit up with my tongue, then tried to suck it out of the hood, while using my finger to probe her star, which was still open from the plug. Francine's reaction was to turn up the vibrator. Suddenly Francine's powerful legs gripped my head as she fell back thrashing. It was pretty good, but I think my orgasm won on points. Damn. That was one more point for her.

She knew it too. She ordered me to clean her up so we could sleep. Francine fights dirty, small people often do, but she is as loyal as they come. And she promised to fuck me with the strap on. Who was going to owe whom for that?

Francine:

I give Sheila credit for being a good sport. She rolled off and removed her gag and blindfold. Then she unlocked all my restraints, removed the butt plug and gave me the remote to the egg.

She said, "If you want more, get up on the bed." That sounded promising, so I dragged myself over to the bed and up on the edge. Sheila crawled over and did her best Oreck impression on my cunt, while sticking several fingers up my ass. I flipped the egg up high, and in a few seconds I exploded. That was two big orgasms in one night. I owed her one. So I grabbed her by those D cup tits and dragged her close. Nose to nose, I said, "I'm too tired to fuck you properly with the strap on, so you get that one on account. Now clean me up and let's get some sleep."

Sheila is a scary bitch if you never get close to her, but inside she is pure kitten. Kittens have claws, which will not retract, and they will lick your skin raw, but they are also great to cuddle with and they purr when you stroke them. I refer to licking the skin raw advisedly. Sheila did a very thorough job of cleaning me.

One thing though, "Take off those fucking ropes and come to bed. You are not a damn puppy and I am not taking you home." Ye Gods, that woman can blush.

Interlude: 25th Anniversary

Cindy:

Things were not as good for Dad. It was one of those critical times in his business, and things were not going well. He claims Mom saved his bacon. Mom says she had zero experience and just made a lucky shot with the camera.

Whatever. Dad hired her for her first paying gig as an image artist. Mom says the real work only took half an hour, but getting the details right just about killed everyone. It would also be when she met Uncle Jason, the subject of the famous picture.

Chapter 6 – Quiet Desperation

Sean:

Monday mornings are always interesting, in a twisted sort of way. I have seven day weeks, as a rule. Most business owners do. However, Monday is the day that three days of issues hit pile up and hit you at once. Most of my time and energy had been consumed by the upcoming auction, but my three other businesses each wanted a piece of me. There were lots of fiddly bdetails to deal with and it never worked as well when my mind was somewhere else. That Monday, my mind was on the feel of her head against my shoulder. I was fixated on her, and I was convinced I did not even know her real name.

Among the other business, things in the Cynthia vein began to come in, albeit slowly. George started off, by informing me that Sheila Schwartz, doing business as S&S Properties, owned the entire block her studio was located in. He mentioned a bequest, which ticked my radar. Every person of importance in town knew Judge Henry Johnson.

Shortly after 9:00 AM Helen stepped in, between appointments, with her first tid-bit. She informed me that the Judge was a patron of Mistress Cynthia, in every meaning of the word "patron." Not long after, George provided details of the bequest. This confirmed my belief that Cynthia, Mistress of discipline, was in fact Sheila Schwartz, fitness trainer. More details filtered in, til I told both Helen and George to make out a report for the end of the day. I already had enough for an outline.

I also had a lunch appointment, with Sheila Schwartz, doing business as BDS&M. George drove me over. When he dropped me off, I told him to focus on real estate inquiries concerning the warehouse block. Unless I missed my guess, the biggest danger to her was an attempted blackmail. The target would be ownership of the building. With an anchor tenant like XTreme Fitness, the whole neighborhood was picking up. This raised a new possibility. I told George to expand his search, to cover the surrounding blocks and to include an eye to purchase possibilities. No reason not to make money when you can.

The car pulled up right on time. As I had come to expect, Sheila (that was an odd shift in the mind) was coming around the corner. I told George not to bother picking me up. His research was going to be interesting, and potentially important. I could use the walk after lunch in any event. As Sheila came up, I offered my arm. She took it and we went inside.

The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley. We could barely get in the door. At a guess, there was a meeting or party taking up much of the diner. It could be worse. I could stand it, since I was arm in arm with my puzzling companion. The puzzle gave us something to talk about.

I said, "I am at a loss for what to call you. Obviously, I cannot use the name on your business card, but I have no other use name for you."

She looked thoughtful, "Good point. Most of the names I have used, I have also outgrown, or do not care to repeat. 'Call me Ishmael' seems a bit trite. How about ZZ?"

I said, "As in two Zs?"

"It stands for Zezolla."

"Ah, I understand, though your frock is a little too clean." Zezolla is one of the earliest names for Cinderella. "I think Belle would be better, as I can easily play the Beast." She ducked her head and blushed. "It's settled then. You are my Belle."

Naturally, nothing of the sort was settled, but all was not lost. I glanced up, just in time to see Chuck Blanding's jaw drop. He must have come through the door, just as Sheila was blushing. It could not have been staged any better.

I waved him over, saying, "Chuck, I want to thank you for introducing me to this lovely lady. We have so much in common: art, music, Italian food. I took her to the symphony Saturday night. It was one of the memorable nights of my life. She even blushes prettily." Blushing she was, though there was also a strong hint of warning in her glance.

She took her turn at the plate. "Charles, I am so glad you dropped by. You have a free session coming. I took the liberty of scheduling you last on Thursday. That means we can go long if things work that way. I have something special planned." Cynthia, for that was who was speaking, licked her lips as she said "special."

Now to wrap it up, I said, "Chuck, please take our place. This lovely lady and I have business to discuss, and it is going to be too noisy in here."

Cynthia nodded. "Please Charles, allow us. I will see you 4:00 PM on Thursday. Do not be late." Chuck went from pale to deathly white. That would be my girl.

We squeezed past him and out the door. Holding in the laughter was not easy, but we made it around the corner before we both exploded. We must have laughed a full minute, til my sides, at least, were aching. It felt very good, especially after my last few weeks. Sheila's car was just around the corner, so we had transportation. She drove us to a Greek place, D's Grill, with which I was unfamiliar.

Sheila:

Getting Francine out of bed was a chore. After we finally got to bed, I spooned up behind her, and slept like a rock. 5:30 AM came and I rose to do my stretching and start the coffee. While the coffee brewed, I took a shower, being careful to clean my south end. After drying, I rubbed some lotion into my poor abused pussy. Francine had scratched my clitoral hood raw. Though it was hooded, I suspect the clitoris itself had a red welt on one side. The memory made me shiver.

After all the time working out, showering and doing my face, I came out to find Frannie still wrapped around my pillow. This would not do. I had appointments and she had a 30 minute drive. I loaded cream and sweetener into a cup of double strength coffee, then returned to the bed. In my line of work, you learn how to deliver a slap. Frannie got one of my best, right on her bare ass. She woke with a yelp and turned to do battle. I put a mug of coffee in her hands. She glared at me over the cup, but I knew her priorities. Within seconds, half the steaming mug was empty.

I said, "If Francine, the slug-a-bed, is finally up, she can help me get dressed. I am meeting Sean at lunch. I want to wear something special, and it takes two to put it on."

I opened the special drawer. Julian made me a corset once, but I hardly ever wore it, exactly because it requires a dresser. Frannie may be irresponsible, but Francine is theater to the bone. In theater, costuming is half the fun. She loved the idea. She also loved my collection of foundations and bustiers.

"My God Schwartz, where did you get all these."

"I had them made, for which I am fortunate. Julian is very exclusive. Do you want one?"

"Ye Gods yes, but I couldn't possibly..."

"You can and you will. Now, hold your arms over your head."

I lowered a lacy black bustier down her body. "Now hold it up while I fasten it. This is the first thing I bought from Julian. By his standards, it is very simple, almost off the rack. We could never get it fitted properly. He tried and tried, but eventually he gave up and offered to make one to measure." I pulled out another bustier. "This one. I have been a client ever since. There. Done. Look in the mirror."

It was quite effective on her. I had struggled to just to pull it on while open. On Francine's tiny body, it fit lightly, even when fully pulled in. The bottom rode over her hips, rather than above them, as it had on me. The top was snug enough to even force a hint of cleavage. For those that wear underwear as outerwear, it would fit right in. I could see Francine out clubbing in it and a flair skirt, possibly with only it and the flair skirt. She nodded at her reflection and turned to give me a strangling hug. Then she helped me with my more difficult piece, which is an outright corset. All too soon, she flew out the door, still wearing the bustier, one of her own skirts and one of my men's shirts. The tail of the shirt hung lower than her skirt.

My appointments that day went oddly. Tuesday and Thursday morning appointments are exclusively at the gym. Everything is done in the open. That way, my clients and I can be seen together without arousing comment. Half the important people in town know me as Sheila Schwartz, the fitness trainer.

When I am in the gym, conducting a exercise session, there is no touching or anything remotely sexual. Yet, many of my clients said that the workouts were as rewarding as being forced to multiple orgasms in my studio. It has given me an interesting insight into human nature.

That Tuesday was different. Perhaps it was the suit, which was tailored for a corset. It was only the third time I had worn it, and the first time I wore it for the Judge. It had special meaning for me and I was being very careful of it. It could have been the corset itself. Most of Julian's work is wonderfully free, but not the corset. Necessarily, my breaths were shallow, my movements controlled, and my posture stiffly erect. Perhaps, it was my expression. Whatever the reason, Cynthia was present, and everyone knew it. Even the other staff were very polite. Likely, it was for the best, since my clients managed three personal bests.

Eventually, it was time to meet Sean. Arriving at exactly the same time was getting to be a ritual. We met in front of the diner. Sean offered his arm, and we went inside. In spite of the company, I wanted to go right back out. Cianfrani's was packed. In spite of the noise, Sean made conversation.

He said, "I am at a loss for what to call you. Obviously, I cannot use the name on your business card, but I have no other use name for you."

He was right. "Good point. Most of the names I have used, I have also outgrown, or do not care to repeat. 'Call me Ishmael' seems a bit trite. How about ZZ?"

He said, "As in two Zs?"

"It stands for Zezolla." I love fairy tales. I also love running them down in the original form, even if it happens to be in middle French. Sean understood the reference right off.

"Ah, I understand, though your frock is a little too clean. I think Belle would be better, as I can easily play the Beast." My stars, he could not be serious. My face got so red my ears were burning. He ignored it. "It's settled then. You are my Belle."

I heard a gasp. Looking over, I saw Charles Blanding with his mouth hanging open. He must have seen me blush. That would be the last thing Mistress Cynthia would do in his world. I was dressed as Mistress Cynthia, though Sean had not seemed to notice. Time to bring her to the party.

Sean bought me the time I needed. He waved Charles over saying, "Chuck, I want to thank you for introducing me to this lovely lady. We have so much in common: art, music, Italian food. I took her to the symphony Saturday night. It was one of the most memorable nights of my life. She even blushes prettily." I flushed again. Blast him for making me break character.

I needed to repair my image. "Charles, I am so glad you dropped by. You have a free session coming. I took the liberty of scheduling you last on Thursday. That means we can go long if things work that way. I have something special planned." I used my Cynthia smile, which scares some people spitless, and leaned on the "special." Sean tied the bow on it. "Chuck, please take our place. This lovely lady and I have business to discuss, and it is going to be too noisy in here." Perfect. I added, "Please Charles, allow us. I will see you 4:00 PM on Thursday. Do not be late."

Charles was already pale and sweaty. That turned him positively stricken. Thursday, I planned to give him a lot of time alone with his thoughts, with just occasional punctuation. I grinned as we pushed out of the building and ran to the corner. Then we both burst out laughing. I, at least, laughed til it hurt.

We had stopped almost in front of my Volvo. I pulled out my keys and unlocked the doors. Sean got in. George must be busy elsewhere, which was something to think about. George reeked of security. Since Sean did not offer an opinion, I drove us to D's Grill near my studio. I was in the mood for gyros and tabouli. It was a new place for Sean, which was all good. We ordered at the counter, received our styrofoam cups and found a seat in the corner to sip our drinks.

Sean broke the silence. "That is a spectacular outfit you are wearing. I doubt many could pull it off." What a left handed compliment. He could be thinking so many things.

I gave him the truth. "I had it made a few years ago for a special client."

He shocked me by nodding and saying, "Judge Johnson." Before I could sputter out something, he went on. "I hope you don't mind. I asked Helen and George to do some discrete inquiries. Considering the nature of your business, I told them to be very discrete." That was a mouthful to chew. I was spared an immediate reply by the arrival of our food. We focused on gyro and tabouli, spanakopita, grape leaves and cucumber salad.

After I finished what I was willing to eat, I said, "Something tells me that George would have been digging without any instruction. What was he, Secret Service?"

"No, but close. Same song, different verse. He was a Marine on protection detail. The knees are no longer military grade."

"Tell him that if he needs therapy, I can do a mean routine. Ask anyone."

He smiled, then got very serious, "There is more. Some of your clients are also my clients. It's a small city. A couple were willing to lend me some of your lipstick pictures, ones with no faces showing. I insisted on that last point. I showed them to a professional photographer from the City. He was enough impressed that I want to hire you for some photographic work. It is very urgent, has a short deadline and must be highly discrete. For that list of qualifications, you are the only name on my list. Please, at least consider it."