Midlife Surrender Ch. 04

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Kara visits Derek and gets more than she bargained for.
5.9k words
4.53
55.6k
17

Part 4 of the 7 part series

Updated 10/29/2022
Created 01/08/2010
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linkznut
linkznut
1,268 Followers

For the first week after her encounter with Derek Strong and Amy Marshall, Kara Johnson had been moderately successful at finding some trivial, mindless task to help take her mind off the events of that day. On occasion she even managed to convince herself that it hadn't really been far and away the single most erotic event of her life. But as the days rolled by and the day of Derek's departure for college neared, Amy's words became increasingly difficult to get out of her head.

'If you don't call him,' her 36 year-old married neighbor had said to her the day after it'd happened, 'you'll regret it the rest of your life.'

And so, for the umpteenth time that day, Kara stood before the kitchen telephone, nervous butterflies dancing in her stomach as those words rang over and over in her head . . . 'You'll regret it the rest of your life' . . . 'You'll regret it the rest of your life' . . . 'You'll regret it the rest of your life' . . .

Finally, at 11:30 AM Wednesday, just a half-week before Derek's scheduled Sunday departure for college, she gave in and reached for the phone, her hands shaking so hard that she could hardly read his number on the card Amy had given her. The phone rang three times before Derek picked it up. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Miss Johnson," he said smugly, betraying his caller ID. "Amy told me you'd be calling, but I have to admit, I didn't think you had it in you."

Stunned by how the young man had taken control before she'd even spoken a word, Kara stumbled out a weak response; the only response she could think of. "Amy said I'd call?"

But Derek ignored her query, instead getting directly to the point. "This is what will happen, Miss Johnson," he said confidently. "That is, it's what will happen if you truly want to take our relationship to the next level.

"You will be at my house tomorrow morning at 11:00 AM sharp. You will be wearing a tank top with no bra, stretch-waist exercise pants, a tie-side thong, no socks, and shoes you can slip off easily. You may wear light makeup if you wish, but absolutely nothing else. Clear?"

Kara nearly dropped the phone, shuddering as chills ran down her spine. It was happening again, just like it did the other time. She, the adult, the mature one, the one that should have been able to find a way to deal with the situation, was coming completely unglued as a boy 20 years her junior exerted his will on her, pushing her to places that, truth be told, she still wasn't completely certain she wanted to go.

"But your parents, won't they . . ." she stammered.

But Derek cut her off. "Are you questioning me, Miss Johnson?" he challenged in a firm voice, adding fright to the growing list of afflictions now affecting Kara.

"No, Sir," she responded automatically.

"You'd better not be," Derek said. Then, a moment later, he continued in a slightly softer voice. "Not that you deserve an answer, but my parents are leaving very early tomorrow morning and won't be back until midday Saturday. That should give us plenty of time, don't you agree, Miss Johnson?"

"Yes, Sir," she whispered weakly, but the line had already gone dead.

* * *

It was one minute before 11:00 the next morning when Kara pulled into Derek's driveway. Nervously, she looked at the mirror and brushed the hair from her face. Then she closed her eyes, took a long slow breath, exhaled and opened the door. She reached her feet and closed the door, then checked her reflection in the car window -- white tank top, stretch-waist exercise pants, no socks, sandals, and just as instructed, no bra and a tie-side thong underneath it all.

'Christ. I didn't even own a pair of tie-side thongs before last night,' she thought.

Then, after yet another calming breath, she turned and started for the front door.

She reached the door and hesitated; the doubts again creeping in now that the moment of truth was upon her. 'Are you sure you want to do this?' she thought to herself. 'It's not too late. You can still turn around and leave.'

But she didn't leave, nor did she move her finger towards the door bell. Instead, she just stood there, stricken with confusion and indecision. Why was she there? Was she really willing to surrender herself to a young man barely out of high school? And if she did go ahead with it, would she be able to face herself in the morning or would she be overcome with the same shame and humiliation she endured last time?

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know," she said in a near whisper. "I just don't know." And so she stood there, a statue frozen in time, unable to move until suddenly the door swung open. And there he was, her tormentor, standing before her in shorts and a tee-shirt, bigger than life itself.

For the longest moment the world was silent. Kara stood there nervously, uncertain whether to turn and run or stand and wait, while Derek simply stared at her through the eyes of a man who had no doubt that soon, very soon, he would have his prey. Finally, just when Kara didn't think she could take any more of the silence, the young man stepped away from the door.

"Come," he said simply, that single word exploding in her ears like no word before. And with her heart pounding in her chest, Kara found herself following the young man into the house, one foot moving slowly in front of the other, knowing full well that her fate had already been decided.

Once they were inside Derek eased the door closed, slid his hand onto Kara's lower back and guided her to the center of the foyer, turning her so she was facing the mirror on the far wall. Then, without further fanfare, he slid behind her, slipped his fingers inside the elastic waist-band of her exercise pants and slid them over her hips and down her thighs, stopping when they reached her knees. Then he slid the bottom of her top upwards until it reached her underarms, and then pulled the front up and over her head so it stretched between her biceps behind her back. Finally, he reached down, took hold of the ties on her thong and pulled. Once the ties came free, he eased the tiny garment from between her legs and slipped it casually into his pocket. Only then did he look in the mirror at her completely exposed breasts and pussy and nod his head approvingly.

He reached around her and traced his fingers lightly over her breasts, smiling smugly as her nipples hardened and goosebumps broke out across her body.

"So tell me, Miss Johnson, what do you want from me?"

Kara swallowed deeply, lowering her eyes briefly to the reflection of his hands tracing slow little circles on her breasts, then raising them back to meet his. 'Why is this so difficult?' she screamed silently. It wasn't like she had any real doubt as to what the answer to his question truly was; she wanted him to do to her exactly what he'd done the week before, and exactly what he'd done to Amy. She wanted him to dominate her, to take her in any and every way he could imagine. She wanted him to humiliate her, degrade her, even punish her. And yes, she wanted him to bring her too more of those wonderful mind-blowing orgasms, over and over and over, just like he had before.

She struggled with her emotions, forcing herself to cut loose the social mores that were holding her back. Who cared if she was a middle aged woman and he was barely out of high school? And what difference did it make what people would think of her if they ever found out about the things they did?

"I asked you a question, Miss Johnson," Derek said abruptly, cutting through her reverie. "What do you want from me?" And then he eased his right hand away from her breast and lowered it to her crotch, rubbing her already wet pussy while his other hand squeezed and caressed her breast.

Kara closed her eyes, took one more deep breath and re-opened them, then looked his reflection straight in the eyes. "I want you to take me like you did the other day," she said, her voice cracking even as her body writhed under his caresses. "I want you to be my Master, and I want to be your slut-toy."

Derek kept his right hand on her pussy while he moved his left hand from her breasts to her chin and turned her head back over her shoulder. Then, with their eyes barely six inches apart, he spoke.

"Are you certain of that, Miss Johnson?"

She did her best to nod her head. "Yes," she managed to eek out. "I'm certain."

He released her then, stepping backwards. "Put your clothes back together, remove your shoes and come with me."

Hurriedly, she slid her top back over her head, pulled her pants up and kicked off her shoes. Then she scurried to the living room entrance where Derek waited patiently.

"After you, Miss Johnson," the young man said, waving his hand into the room.

Kara was looking at Derek as she eased by him, not looking forward until she was two full steps into the room. That's when she turned her head and saw a young man dressed in a simple blue polo shirt and shorts sitting in the middle of the love seat and staring directly at her.

Kara recognized the young man instantly, and why wouldn't she? After all, he wasn't just some stranger off the street -- far from it. He was Stuart Chambers, the 19 year-old son of Pamela Chambers, Kara's best friend. He was the same young man that Kara had known since shortly before his second birthday, and the same young man that, until a few years ago, had called her "Aunt Kara" even though they were not actually related.

In fact, when it came right down to it, Kara had an almost mother-like affection for Stuart, having lived through all of his boyhood trauma's and successes vicariously through his mother. She'd celebrated his successes with Pamela, and she'd cried with her over his failures and disappointments. And now he was sitting on the love seat, staring at her, waiting.

All those thoughts flashed through her mind in a split second. Then, reacting with the speed that only sheer panic could cause, she turned around and looked at Derek.

"I didn't know you had company," she said, the cracking and squeaking in her voice betraying her nerves. "I can come back another time." And then she started for the front door, only to find Derek sliding over to block her exit from the room.

"Is there a problem?" he asked sarcastically.

Kara's heart was pounding wildly in her chest. "Please," she said in a voice only Derek could hear. "He's my best friend's son. I've known him nearly his whole life. I can't, I just can't."

Derek smiled softly, reaching out tenderly to brush a strand of hair from her face before sliding both hands around to the base of her neck. "It was hard for you to call me yesterday, wasn't it?" he asked in an equally quiet voice.

She nodded her head weakly and whispered. "Yes."

He slid his right hand down her neck and onto her shoulder, easing the strap slightly towards the edge of her shoulder. "And even harder to come here this morning."

Kara glanced nervously towards the hand on her shoulder, then back into his eyes. "Yes," came the soft reply. Derek eased his other hand down her neck and onto her shoulder, brushing the other strap towards the the edge of her shoulder to match the first one. And then he began gently squeezing her tense muscles, massaging them, kneading them.

"You want to stay, don't you?"

And even though she shook her head back and forth, Derek could see the doubt creeping into her eyes. "He's Pamela's son," Kara managed to answer in a barely audible voice. "How could I face her again."

"But you do want to stay, don't you?" Derek countered, keeping up his gentle, tender pressure.

Kara stared into his eyes for several seconds, saying nothing, before finally lowering her eyes in shame. "I shouldn't," she whispered softly. "I really shouldn't."

Derek allowed his facial features to soften. "You do know that if you leave now, there's no coming back."

Kara looked up at him uncertainly and shook her head. "I could come back tomorrow, or later tonight, or maybe even . . ."

"No," Derek interjected in a firm voice. "If you leave now it's over; you can never come back. Is that what you want?"

Kara stammered. "I don't know. I mean no, I mean . . ."

Derek shook his head slowly and withdrew his hands from her shoulders. Then he took a small step to the side.

"It's your choice, Kara. What will it be, stay or go."

Kara looked towards the door, at the opening he'd given her. He was serious when he said she was free to go, of that she had no doubt. But still . . . She closed her eyes, bit her lower lip and shook her head. 'No,' she thought, 'I can't. It's Stuart; Pamela's son. I can't. I . . .'

"Miss Johnson," Derek said, breaking into her thoughts. "Are you leaving or not?" Kara opened her eyes and turned her head back towards him, a pleading, yet confused look in her eyes. But she found no solace in his face, only the look of a man who was beginning to lose his patience. She turned her head away, once again looking towards the front door and the freedom that lay beyond it. She stared at the door for several seconds before turning back towards Derek. Finally, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and lowered her head submissively.

As soon as she dropped her head, Derek stepped towards her, a wry smile easing onto his face. "Okay, Miss Johnson, it's time to begin." And with no further fanfare he returned his hands on her shoulders and slid the straps of her tank top down her arms, allowing the top to slide down her torso and gather around her waist, leaving her naked breasts visible to Derek, and her backside to Stuart.

By the time her foggy mind could come to grips with the fact that she was now naked from the waist up, the young man had moved on, sliding his thumbs inside the top of her tank-top and pushing down, allowing the thumbs to then slip inside the pants to push both top and bottom over her hips, down her legs and onto the floor. And by the time the startled gasp fully escaped her throat, Kara was totally naked, her clothes in a disheveled pile around her feet.

Derek continued moving swiftly, sliding his left hand behind Kara's head and gently grabbing a handful of hair. Then he turned her head so her glazed over eyes were looking directly into his.

"Step out of your clothes, Miss Johnson," he ordered.

To Kara, it had happened way too fast. One moment she was standing there, staring towards the front of the house, trying to get up the nerve to walk out, and a moment later she was stark naked before not only Derek, but her best friend's son as well, struggling to comprehend how, in the short span of less than two weeks, she'd gone from a normal, well-adjusted woman to a needy, wanton slut-toy who not only didn't seem to care that she was standing naked and powerless before two boys 20 years her junior, but actually seemed to crave the humiliation and shame she was currently experiencing, not to mention the degradation that was undoubtedly yet to come.

But it wouldn't be until later that evening, long after the events of the day were behind her, when she'd finally look back and realize that this was the moment of her ultimate surrender; that this was the moment she finally acknowledged the burning desires that heretofore she'd kept buried deep inside, and that this was the moment the battle that had been raging within her finally ended.

Derek, taking quick advantage of his slut-toy's surrender, turned her around and eased her up against the outcropping of wall that separated the main hallway from the living room. Even though Kara knew that her nakedness was now completely out front for Stuart's review, she offered no resistance. Even so, she could not bring herself to lift her head and look his way.

Derek could sense his slut-toys nervousness and shame but refused to ease up on her. He slid his left hand to her shoulder, then slid his right hand to her face to brush aside some disheveled strands.

"Tell me, slut-toy, does it make you feel horny knowing that Pamela Chambers' son is sitting just a few feet away, ogling your hot, luscious nakedness? And does it make your pussy ache knowing that soon he'll be doing more than just looking?"

Kara's breath caught in her throat, her already rubbery knees nearly giving out completely as the true meaning behind Derek's words struck home. Still, she gathered herself quickly, took a deep breath and re-focused her attention on Derek.

"Yes," she said in a soft voice, but a voice that both boys could hear.

Derek dropped his right hand to her chest, allowing his fingers to lightly circle her D-cup breasts and gently pinch their hardened nipples. And then he slid his hand over the meat of her right breast and squeezed, bringing a gasp from his slut-toy's mouth.

"And can you feel his sex-crazed young eyes boring in on your fat, luscious titties?"

"Oh God, yes," was all the reply she could manage as her knees again nearly buckled beneath her.

"And are you thinking about him squeezing them, sucking them, even biting them?"

"Yes," Kara whispered desperately, losing more control with each new query her Master tabled. "I am."

It was then that Derek withdrew his right hand, grabbed a tuft of hair with his left and pulled it downward.

"On your hands and knees, slut-toy, just like the bitch-in-heat that you are."

"Yes, Sir," she replied in a cracking voice as she dropped quickly to her hands and knees before him. And even though she was pointed directly at Stuart, she kept her head lowered, still unable to look him in the eyes.

She heard Derek step away, only to return a few seconds later. Then she felt him slide the tip of a riding crop between the back of her legs and begin patting her pussy.

"This is what's going to happen," he said. "You're going to crawl over to my guest and, using your hands and mouth, make love to his feet. Understand?"

The words sent a shiver down Kara's spine as the image of her on her hands and knees in front of Stuart, kissing, biting and massaging his feet shot through her mind. And with her body shaking visibly, she somehow found a way to gather herself enough to respond.

"Yes, Sir. I understand." Then, still struggling to get control of her nerves, she started crawling slowly across the room, with Derek's riding crop constantly tap-tap-tapping her pussy as she went.

She stopped crawling a few inches from Stuarts feet. The tapping on her pussy, however, continued, with each new tap causing tiny sparks to shoot through her already aroused body.

For a moment she held her position, neither retreating backwards nor reaching out for his feet, instead just holding her position, thinking that if Derek would just stop that damn tap-tap-tapping on her pussy . . .

But he didn't stop. If anything he started slapping a little bit harder, a little bit faster, pushing her just a little bit further over the edge until suddenly the riding crop withdrew from her pussy and landed a firm SWAT! on her bare cheek, followed an instant later by another SWAT! on the other cheek.

"Well, Miss Johnson? We're waiting." Two more swats struck home before Kara could lean forward enough to bring her lips to Stuart's bare feet as they sat on the carpet before her.

Kara had no delusions about how she looked. She was a grown woman in a totally humiliating, degrading position, doing vile and disgusting acts to the feet of her best friend's son while another young man stood above her, alternately tapping his riding crop on her soaking pussy and lashing it across her buttocks. But in her new reality -- the reality she'd only moments before acknowledged -- her humiliation was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was the sexual gratification that came from serving her Master well. And if he told her to degrade herself by making love to this young man's feet, well . . .

She spent several minutes -- minutes that felt more like hours -- making love to Stuart's feet. She alternated from one foot to the other, kissing the crown of each, licking them, sucking on each individual toe, even nibbling on them, all while her hands gently caressed them.

linkznut
linkznut
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