Power Outage Ch. 01

The unexpected caresses soothed her taught muscles until she was merely draped across his thighs, unconsciously parting her legs and moaning slightly as his fingers slid between them - just what he was waiting for.

The series of quick blows that followed caused her to gasp loudly and raised three distinct bright pink handprints on each cheek. He was surprised as well, but by the stirring in his loins.

In the strange silence that followed, as he resumed softly rubbing her ass, he asked in a soft, but menacing tone, "Do you know why I am spanking you, my slave?"

"No, Master, I don't know why," she replied, her voice strained, not so much from pain as confusion, desperate to know the answer not only to his question, but also to the secondary glow that was rising in her pussy.

"Because you were a bitch!" he replied as more sharp swats rained on her ass.

"A lazy bitch," he continued, "for thinking you could do as you pleased," as more blows to her ass reverberated in the room, punctuating his remarks. "For leading me on, and making me think that you would change when you had absolutely no intention of doing so. You thought you could play me endlessly and without consequence. Didn't you?"

Lyn wanted to speak, but overwhelmed by the confusing combination of pain and stimulation, no words could be mustered.

"Answer me, bitch!" he bellowed as the additional smacks on her ass made his hand sting and burst her vocal logjam.

"Yes, Master, I was a bitch," she replied, much louder than she intended, simultaneously realizing that he was correct and that possibly she deserved the punishment. But if it were truly punishment, where did her other feelings come from?

However, George would not allow her to contemplate the dichotomy and said, "I'm glad you agree. So are you prepared to serve me now, or do I need to spank you some more?"

"What must I do to serve you....Master?"

"Wrong answer!" he replied sharply, matched by more strikes on her ass.

"Yes, Master, I am ready to serve you," she said hastily, hoping for more stimulation, just less severe.

"Kneel before me, slave," he instructed, applying a slight pressure with his hand on her hip closest to his belly.

She readily complied and looked up at him expectantly, hoping that he'd be pleased, but was met with only an inscrutable stare.

Wasting no time and shedding his robe, he rose before her; his visage replaced by his thick, heavy cock.

"Suck it, my slave."

As her hand lifted to assist, he slapped it away.

"No hands. Keep them behind your back. Or do I need to work on your ass some more?"

"No, Master," she replied while interlocking her fingers by her lumbar and craning her neck to capture his cockhead between her lips.

George lowly moaned and moved his hips forward to fill her mouth, holding himself there. Lyn felt his cock swelling, pushing towards her throat and started to back off.

Immediately, George's hand was at the back of her head, forcing her to accept his expanding cock. Then, taking a fistful of hair, he pulled her off his cock and tipped her head to look up with its tip resting on her chin.

"You will take all of my cock, my slave. I'm going to fuck your throat, do you understand?"

From the look in his eyes, Lyn knew he was serious, and as frightening as the prospect was, with his thick cock nestled on her chin and the lean torso topped with a commanding demeanor towering above, she also deeply desired him to take her. To use her.

"Yes, Master, I understand," she replied and promptly wrapped her lips around his cock.

Slowly, George pushed deeper into her mouth, retreating only when it seemed she would gag, and repeating the motion, each time going a bit deeper and remaining there longer while his cock continued to grow and stiffen, all the while holding her head rigidly in place. In spite of her coughing and gagging, her willing acceptance of his length fueled his passion. Periodically, George withdrew enough to let Lyn breath with saliva dripping from her chin and his cock onto her breasts. He marveled at how wonderful it felt to hold his cock at the entrance to her throat and the power it gave him.

She felt his energy as well, flowing from his cock and invisibly tweaking her cunt and so, despite her messy condition, she wantonly absorbed it. Even when he finally pushed fully into her, it rebounded from between her thighs and overcame her throat's reluctance, yielding mutual personal conquests.

Gripped by the synergistic loop of triumph, George felt his impending climax and surprised Lyn by suddenly withdrawing completely, but as she attempted to recapture his cock, he tightened his grip on her hair and tilted her face upwards.

"Do you want my cum, slave?" he asked frantically.

"Oh, god, yes, Master, please give me your cum," replied Lyn with equal fervor.

A brief, but curious thought flashed in her mind. Only days ago, those crude words would surely have set her lips on fire. Now, they were extraordinarily appropriate.

But he quickly brought her back, by vigorously jacking his cock directly above her upturned face and grunting, "Here it comes!"

He continued working his cock and several jets of semen crisscrossed her nose, cheeks and lips, while Lyn reflexively shut her eyes tightly. Using his cock for a brush, he then spread a coating of the thick, glistening fluid on the places he's missed.

"Damn, that was a lot! Guess I'd been saving it for a while," George laughed as he admired his handiwork.

Philosophically, Lyn felt that she should have been repulsed by his demeaning act, but upon opening her eyes and seeing the contentment on her husband's face, the notion vanished. It had been far too long since she'd seen that. As bizarre as it would seem, she felt the love for her man rekindled and smiled, while George briefly allowed his disposition to soften, much like the cock in his hand.

He returned her smile and then softly laughed as he watched her face twitch beneath its sticky coating. "You're a beautiful mess, my slave, but I imagine that's starting to itch. Would you like to clean up?"

"Yes, Master," she said and rose unsteadily to her feet, her knees aching from their prolonged use.

As she hobbled to the bath, Lyn considered the situation and the thoughts racing round her brain. She'd never have believed she was capable of deepthroating his cock, but she succeeded and was now happily washing away the evidence! It wasn't easy, but it wasn't so bad. Bad? It was pretty damned hot! And speaking of hot, my pussy sure could use some attention. Even the spanking had its moments. Damn, girl! How could you get turned on by getting your ass spanked? She didn't want to dwell on that, but she certainly felt more alive than she had in years and would do her damnedest to see this through. But what would 'this' be? Interesting, at the very least!

As she exited the bath, she saw George lying on the bed, hands interlocked behind his head on the pillow, looking content, as a brief pang of jealousy ran through her.

"Come here, my slave," he said, motioning to the side of the bed nearest him.

As she walked towards him, George seated himself on the edge of the bed and she stood before him. Lyn couldn't decide which posture to assume, so she stood rigidly before him, arms at her side.

She gasped quickly as his fingertips softly teased her nipples, stiffening abruptly in response and her knees nearly buckled when one hand moved to lightly trace the slit of her tumescent pussy.

"You're a horny bitch, aren't you my slave?" he asked, obviously amused with her response.

"Yes, Master, I'm a horny bitch," she replied, slightly embarrassed with the confession, but hopeful that he'd continue.

A finger easily slipped between her lips and reflexively her hips pushed out to greet it.

"Remain still!" he ordered as he withdrew his finger.

"Yes, Master."

George's finger re-entered and slid upward, coming to rest on her easily located clit and, although she emitted a sigh, Lyn did manage to remain immobile.

As his finger gently circled, George said. "Now, my slave, pinch your nipples between your fingers and pull them out as far as you can."

She eagerly complied, stretching her breasts into rigid cones.

George glanced up to admire the view and said, "Very good my slave, now hold them like that."

At first it was easy, but as the excitement built within her, she was forced to pinch harder to maintain her grip, while George's relentless provocation contrasted strongly to the painful pleasure tormenting her nipples. But there was no doubting urgent desire welling inside her.

George watched her intently, carefully gauging his movements to her response. He knew she was close; very close. As her legs began to quiver with the strain, and seizing a clump of her pubic hair just above her slit, George yanked it forcefully upward.

Lyn yelped and fell to her knees, her hands catching his thighs to break her fall. She looked up at George, her face full of the confusion that racked her physically -- the tingling ache in her nipples, the stinging of her pubis and the empty longing within her.

In juxtaposition to her dilemma, George looked at her in wicked glee, a few her pubes still pinched between his fingers.

"Did that hurt, my slave?"

"Yes, Master, it did."

Surprisingly he said, "Then I will not do it again," but before she could contemplate this concession, he quickly changed subject. "I don't know about you, my slave, but I'm famished. Let's go to the Pilot House for dinner."

Leaving her dumbstruck, he rose, turned on the lamp on the night stand and walked around the room blowing out the candles. Stopping at his armoire, he selected some clothes and proceeded to get dressed.

As he pulled on his briefs, he turned to her and said, "Well, are you going naked or would you prefer to wear clothes?"

Lyn stared at him in disbelief. Could he really leave her hanging like this?

"Is something wrong, my slave? Did you really think I would let you cum that easily?"

"I don't know what to think, Master."

"That's just as well. For now, don't think. All you need do is obey. So get dressed and wear a skirt -- the shortest one you have. And as far as your cumming is concerned, that won't be allowed until you've completed your initiation rites. If you're good, that should be sometime tomorrow."

"Yes, Master," was all that Lyn said, but there was so much more that she wanted to say, but felt it would be wiser to hold her tongue. A multitude of questions plagued her mind, made all the sharper by having been abruptly removed from the precipice. But with more than a little trepidation, she knew they would all be answered in time.

Dressed in a red polo shirt, jeans and boat shoes, George sat in the wing chair, calmly, but intently, watching his wife dress. She knew the shortest skirt she had was mid-thigh length in denim, so after putting on her bra and panties, she put it on along with a white tank top and her very comfortable ballet slip-ons. She made a quick trip to the bathroom to brush her hair and get some lipstick -- the surprising shaking of her hands made its application a challenge.

As Lyn emerged from the bath, she asked, "Is this ok....Master?"

"It will do for the most part. However, we're definitely going to have to do something about that frumpy underwear collection of yours. Since we can't do anything about it now, we'll have to improvise. Lose the granny panties, slave."

Lyn hesitated, looked at him questioningly, but his brief nod confirmed that she had heard him correctly. Her hands slid under her skirt, pushed her panties to her ankles and she stepped out of them. The sudden cooling of her ass and pussy was certainly disconcerting, making her flush with embarrassment.

George noticed, but did not acknowledge her discomfort; rather, he moved to her and slid his hand up the back of her thigh onto her naked ass.

"Mmm...That's much better." He spoke softly next to her ear. "Let's go. Oh, and, you do not need to address me as Master in public. I did promise that this was strictly between us."

A promise kept. Lyn found it comforting. As she stepped towards the door, the warmth of his hand was gone and she was surprised to find herself disappointed, but did not mention it, saying only, "Okay, let's go...George."

As George backed the car out of the garage, the sun was just beginning to set, lending an orange-pink tinge to the mid summer heavily treed landscape that surrounded their house.

As George stopped at the end of the driveway to check the traffic, he leaned over the center console to flip Lyn's skirt up. She went to put back to its rightful place.

"Don't you dare!" he said as he pulled onto the road. "Now spread your legs and show me your cunt!"

"But I thought that this was just between us?"

"I don't see anyone else in the car," he countered.

"What if someone sees?"

"Right. We're driving down some narrow roads out in the country, so unless superman comes along, no one can see."

Lyn couldn't debate that point, so, reluctantly she complied. Although she did adjust the vent so it didn't blow directly at her crotch.

That proved to be unnecessary because George's right hand was so there, coaxing her clit with his middle finger and as much as she wanted, she could not ignore the effect it had on her. But rather than fight a battle that was impossible to win, she closed her eyes, reclined the seat a bit more, leaned back and accepted the moment for what it was.

George drove at a lazy pace, keeping to the back roads as much as possible as they headed east towards the coast, savoring her occasional sigh and the wetness spreading on his finger.

Lost in her own world, Lyn's reverie was broken when George suddenly removed his hand and put her skirt down. Opening her eyes, she immediately understood and was grateful. It didn't seem like they'd been on the road that long, but obviously the twenty minutes had passed and they were now in the midst of the shore traffic and the four-lane roads were crowded with the typical Friday evening snarl. As they crept along, her relief was quickly vanquished by frustration and ten minutes later an awkward fear took over as George maneuvered into a parking space at the restaurant.

Upon exiting the car, George took Lyn's hand and the couple made their way down the sidewalk and up the steps to the restaurant that was situated at the waterfront of the bay, flanked by marinas on both sides, boats bobbing in their docks. Although there was only a slight breeze off the brackish water, George smiled as Lyn's free hand clenched the side of her skirt as if a hurricane would arrive momentarily.

She caught his amused expression and asked, "What's so funny?"

"You, and the way you're holding your skirt."

"What the hell did you expect?"

"Exactly that. It's cute," he replied and then whispered, "But you'd better be careful, people might think you don't have any panties on."

His grin broadened as his eyes latched on to hers. As much as Lyn may have felt she should be upset with him, all she could do was return his smile, with a blush as interest. After a quick squeeze, he released her hand and opened the door for her. Putting his arm around her waist, they walked a few steps to the hostess podium beyond which rose the wooden vaulted ceiling of a large circular room encasing the concentric bar while further back on a lower level, dining tables arced along the waterfront.

"Hi," George said to the blonde hostess in a simple black cocktail dress, "We have a reservation for two for George."

"Okay. Got it," she replied and took two menus from within her podium. "Please follow me."

They were quickly taken a table next to a window that over looked the water and as George held her chair he was again pleasantly amused with Lyn's extra efforts to mind her skirt.

"You planned this?" she asked as George took his seat opposite her.

"Of course. Blood does flow to my brain occasionally," he replied with a raised eyebrow.

Lyn blushed, briefly envisioning where his blood had been concentrated only a short time ago.

"You might not know it," he continued, "but I'm trying to make this special for both of us."

"It is," Lyn replied somewhat absently, trying to shake the image from her mind.

"I know this may sound crazy, but I want us to be lovers...and granted, kinky lovers at that, but lovers nonetheless. I always have."

"That's so sweet!" Lyn replied, truly happy with his admission and overjoyed as he leaned across the table to kiss her, rising slightly from her chair to meet him. The kiss was brief but extraordinarily stimulating from the sudden rush of cool air across her behind.

Moderately disappointed that it ended and she had to sit again, Lyn was jolted back to reality as George opened his menu and asked, "So what are you in the mood for?"

Lyn knew precisely what she was in the mood for, but it wasn't on the menu. She wanted another kiss. Lots of them and then...But she broke her reverie and replied, "I'm not sure. What are you going to have?"

"I'm thinking sushi. I know it's not your cup of tea. I'm hungry, but I don't want to get too full, if you know what I mean."

She knew what he meant all right, but chose to ignore it and after glancing down the menu, she said only, "I think I'll go with the grilled tuna."

And so it went. The food was good, although in the future Lyn would be hard pressed to remember what she ate. The evening passed with small talk about work, the house, and a little about their future, all lightly peppered with George's not so cryptic asides and occasional kisses that left her wanting.

They left the restaurant arm in arm and walked slowly through the cool night air to the car with Lyn's head resting on his shoulder, her outward calm belying the turmoil within -- part of her elated over the rekindled love she was feeling while her more visceral instincts longed for release as both passions amplified each other, seething at an emotional harmonic frequency.

George started the car, queued up some sultry sax on a CD and pulled out of the parking lot, his hand finding hers once he had merged into the traffic. Neither spoke - they were more than content to be immersed in the intimacy of a moment that had been glaringly absent from their lives.

As the bright lights of the seaside faded behind them and their privacy increased, Lyn was startled to hear George say, "Open your blouse and show me your tits."

"But someone might see."

"No one's going to see. Just do it, my slave. Or do you want to discover the punishment for disobedience when we get home?"

Slowly, Lyn unbuttoned her blouse and cautiously pulled it open to reveal the white lace bra.

"Stop dawdling and get those tits out!" George said sternly.

Hesitating momentarily to figure out how to meet his demand, she slid the straps off her shoulders and pulled the cups away from her breasts. The cool night air made her nipples contract.

George glanced over and softly said, "Very nice. Now play with them. Make them swell with your touch."

Despite her misgivings, her warm fingers felt good as she cupped her breasts and then played softly across her nipples. It was wrong, but felt so good, so Lyn closed her eyes, the easier to ignore the surroundings and concentrate on her pleasure. She'd rarely masturbated, and when she did, it was always quick and concentrated on her pussy. Now, her fingers explored only her breasts, surprised at how sensitive they were. Or had I simply forgotten that fact? Either way, it didn't matter, the pleasure was the priority. At least until the stiff nipples beneath her strumming fingers struck chords within her body, making her roll her hips, reminding of her nakedness beneath her skirt -- she smiled briefly realizing it had all been part of his plan. So it was disappointing when George turned the car into their driveway.