A Cold Tile Floor

(A fantasy we shared together, inspired by a random photograph found on the internet. This is intended to be stimulating and fun, a fantasy to be enjoyed, even played out with the proper precautions. We do not condone coercion for sexual favors in real life. - - -C&B)

*

I sit on the cold tile floor, wearing only panties and black patent heels. I look up at her, my mistress, my expression carefully frightened and submissive.

She stands over me in only a garter belt and stockings, her heels an exact match to mine. Her expression is proud and mocking, signifying her knowledge of her power over me and my husband. Her nipples are erect in arousal. This is her thing, controlling both of us. It makes her hot.

She is my husband's boss.

"He won't be home for a bit. I sent him on an errand after work. How do you plan to amuse me until his arrival?"

I blink, my lower lip trembling. "I await your command, Mistress."

This makes her angry and she slaps her palm with the riding crop she keeps handy when she comes over.

"I suppose you think you'll just please me sexually, some ordinary way, and I'll forget your insolence?"

Another slap. Her palm is red. I hate that crop. It's thin and hard and it leaves welts.

I know.

I cower, my eyes on her shoes.

"No, Mistress, please punish me. I deserve your anger. I need to be corrected. Please?"

My sin was to not be ready when the front door opened. It's always unlocked, at her direction. We never know when she'll come over, but I am to prepare myself to her specification every night during the week. I dress in whatever she's sent over or whatever her secretary tells me when she calls and I wait, mostly on the tile floor in the bathroom.

She gave my husband a big bonus after the first year she became his employer. She owned us by then and she required us to spend it on remodeling the master bath to her specification. It's very elegant, but strangely only in black and white Italian tile.

It's a bitch to keep clean. I scrub it every day to look just like new, just as she taught me.

I scrub it because I hate that crop.

I should explain. My husband made an error at work that would cost them a lot of money. When she called him in to discuss it, he thought he would be fired. We live too well, enjoy our lives, and face it, we owe too much money for him to be fired.

When she offered him an alternative, he jumped at the chance to keep his job.

"Not so fast," she said. "Go home and discuss it with your wife. She knew about your error. It's her problem, too, and she will be part of the solution." He almost backed out, then, but she told him that not only would he be fired, that she could ensure he wouldn't work in their industry anywhere.

"Talk to her. Have her meet me for lunch tomorrow to give me your answer."

He just nodded and replied, "Yes, ma'am."

"Tell her to wear panties without a crotch if she agrees. If she doesn't she can tell me to fuck off and you can begin your new life, in poverty."

We talked that night. Not a long time. We liked our house and cars, our extensive travel, our things. And, after all, she's not unattractive, slender, trim, with shoulder-length blonde hair and ... well, let your imagination roam. I wouldn't call her beautiful, but I understand how someone could fall in love with her.

I just had time to run by Vicky's Secret before lunch.

The maitre'd lead me to a private booth near the back. Dressed in a severe business jacket, black silk blouse, and skirt, she just smiled at me when I walked up. The bra she wore permitted her nipples to tip the blouse. She patted the booth next to her and asked the maitre'd to bring me a champagne glass.

Champagne. She was drinking champagne to celebrate. She knew we'd agree.

She leaned over and kissed my cheek. She leaned back and I felt her hand under my skirt. She didn't have to check, but she did anyway. That was to put me in my place. What was once mine, shared with my husband, was now hers, too. I felt her fingers stroke the silky fabric, then explore my middle. Her fingers caressed my hair, tickled the labia, penetrated me. Her other arm pulled me over so she could reach deep inside.

Possessing me as intimately as possible.

She smiled and said, "What color are the panties?"

"Pink."

The smile disappeared. "Black. For me, always wear black. Also, call me 'Mistress'."

"Yes, Mistress."

She removed her hand and held her fingers to my lips.

"Clean me off."

It was so easy. I knew what she wanted.

I licked her fingers clean and swallowed.

The waitress arrived with my wine glass, poured the champagne and left. If she thought one woman sucking another's fingers was unusual, she didn't signify it in any way. It was that kind of place.

"Have a sip of champagne." That beautiful smile, maddening as it was, was most attractive. Furious, sinking fast, wondering what we'd done, I just wanted to kiss those lips.

She offered me a toast, we clinked glasses, and she said, "Climb under the table and lick my pussy."

I stared at her just a bit too long. I started to comply when she said, angrily, "NO! Let's go to the ladies' room together."

She took my hand and lead me to the bathroom. With one look, the woman at the mirror left immediately. She opened a small closet by the sink and removed a black crop.

"Lean over the sink and pull up your skirt and I mean NOW!"

I hurried over and complied. She ripped my panties down and the cold air of the restroom chilled my bottom. She quickly brought the crop down, hard, again and again. I cried out in pain and humiliation.

"Go ahead, scream, no one can hear you. I own this place, anyway."

More crops until I was in tears.

She took me in her arms and held me against her chest.

"There, there, now, you didn't know how to act. I know this is new. You'll learn, dear, you'll learn. When I give you an order, don't think. Just do it."

I sobbed against her, utterly humiliated.

"There, there. It's new, I know. Respond, 'Yes, Mistress.'"

"Yes, Mistress."

She hugged me and kissed my mouth, tenderly. I responded timidly and she pulled back.

"Now, lick my pussy." This wasn't even a command - her tone of voice just assumed I would comply.

Like a slave.

My panties still around my knees, my skirt up around my waist, I knelt before her, immediately. I raised her dress and found her panties and pulled them down and off her legs. She leaned back and spread her legs.

I touched another woman for the first time intimately. I tried to do what my husband did to me that I liked.

She guided me with her hand firmly on my head and with concise, specific direction.

"There."

"Now, there."

"Faster, lick faster."

"Circles now, around, around, yes."

"Suck in as much flesh as possible, yes, there's a darling, yes...yes..."

My lesson ended when she orgasmed, her juices flooding my face. I heard her sharp intake of breath, followed by a low moan of satisfaction. Using my hair, she tilted my head up to face her.

She smiled at me. That beautiful smile. Then, she kissed me.

"Not bad for a first time. No lunch for you today, you are to go home. Clean your bathroom thoroughly. I'll be by after work to inspect it. Beginning at five, you are to be dressed in some things I'm sending over this afternoon. You are to sit your cute little bottom on the floor of the bathroom facing the door, awaiting my arrival. I'll be very cross if you fail me in any of these details. If you understand, nod 'Yes' and say, 'Yes, Mistress'."

I nodded. "Yes, Mistress."

"Remember what I taught you about pleasing me with your mouth. You'll be teaching your husband to do it, while I watch, this evening. After you've coached him, you'll watch him pleasure me the same way. If I have to correct him in any way, you'll get the crop while he watches."

I stared at her, open-mouthed.

"Close your mouth, immediately! You didn't think this would be a simple little three-way, did you? Oh, no, dear, no, no, no. My pleasure is quite complex and you'll both have to grow in your sexual abilities to please me. I'll watch the two of you together and coach you. I'll have one or the other of you while the other watches. There is only one thing I won't do."

"What is that, Mistress?"

"I won't have sex with your husband with you not present. That would be ... wrong."

It was all I could do to keep my mouth closed. She had a moral limit?

"I will continue my affair with you privately as well as in front of your husband. You have much to learn about pleasing another woman and about being pleased by another woman. I intend to raise your abilities to the highest possible standard."

"What about ...?"

"You may share with him as much or as little of our private time together as you please. Most men are aroused by the thought of two women making love, but if you find him becoming jealous, or worrying if he can pleasure you as thoroughly as I can, you may choose to be selectively discreet. They need our reassurance that way, you know. I don't intend to interfere at all with your feelings for each other."

"Yes, Mistress."

That was months ago. Here I am, waiting for her, typing this while sitting on a cold tile floor. She instructed me to prepare it for her review while I waited.

I'm dressed as a stableboy, my face and hands carefully grubby, a sex toy inserted in my rectum. Under the filthy ragged pants of my costume are some very expensive lacy underthings. She watched my husband shave my pussy bare on her last visit, had her secretary tell me to check it before she came tonight.

There's a new strap-on in the cabinet by the sink, next to the crop.

It's all a new fantasy of hers. I expect her to be the harsh overseer with my bottom her desire. Before the sex, there will be the crop, or the paddle, or the strap. Yes, that's it - the strap. It goes along with a stableboy, somehow.

I exaggerated the welts from last time with makeup. Sometimes that helps.

She never repeats. I suppose if this were boring in some way, it would be harder to bear.

When my husband arrives, he'll join the activity at her direction. He'll please her while she makes me watch, or she'll watch him do me in some unusual way, or she'll make him watch while she punishes me. Sometimes she makes him do the spanking, or makes me spank him.

My husband and I have never loved each other so much.

We enjoy our precious private time so intensely. We cherish our time alone, the sweet intimacy of any time without her. A kiss, pausing in passing on the stairway, provides the most wondrous feeling of deep, abiding love, our eyes on each other, our arms wrapped about one another, our hearts beating as one. We're both better lovers, sharing our feelings and desires so freely, so tenderly. I know what he wants, when, and how, just as he knows me. There's no part of my body he won't explore, enjoy, in search of total knowledge of my world of pleasure. I offer him the same in return.

We try so hard to please her, to learn our lessons, to practice what she teaches us. We hate the crop but we submit.

We've planned to end this, to take care of her once and for all, of course. We know how we'll do it. She'll learn.

Just not until she's taught us everything.

I hear the door...