A Busy Day Pt. 01: An Oral Surprise

Author's Note:

Mistress Pepper and Sophie are "anonymized" versions of me and my slave-girl. The real me. All of my stories are (or should I say will be) my memories of a session with a sub. Thus, they are true stories. Only in this version details have been changed to protect the sub. I do live in Mobile about 10 months of the year (the remaining two I spend in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia, where my father is from and lives), and almost all of my subs live in Mobile or a bordering county. I'm originally from Baldwin County, next door to Mobile. I moved across the bay to attend USA. As is/did Mistress Pepper. But I'm not a blond. And you'll most definitely have to guess at my bra size!

Remember, the names and such have been changed in this version to protect the slutty. Only Princess Lilly appears as herself. But she truly has no concept of shame.

*****

A Busy Day

Story #1:

Breakfast Time

Introduction:

In case this is the first of my stories you've read, there are a few things I've skipped over in this story since there are several other stories I've written about this same sub. I tend to write a story after almost all of my sessions with my toys. But I publish very few of them online.

My name is Pepper Rodgers. I'm a 19-year-old Domme, living downtown Mobile, Alabama. I have a decently well-stocked playroom in the second bedroom of my fourth-floor apartment (most of my neighbors are corporate types who aren't always around, giving me a lot of privacy, even in the halls and elevators). I also have a decently stocked toybox. I prefer my toys to be older than I am, around 30-42 years old. I prefer men for myself, however not for my toybox. When it comes to toys, I find women and couples to be far more amusing. Single men tend to be needier, and often too clingy. But that doesn't mean I don't have a few of them in my toybox. I do. They just don't have the same chances of getting there as couples and single women do.

I'm petite. Actually more "tiny" that petite. I'm 5' 1.75" and 91 pounds. I'm not bony, though, I've curvy, like a small-sized woman. I have blond hair down to my shoulders and blue eyes. Oh, and my chest is the only place I'm not small. I'm a 32-D, and I'm very pert. Which makes me popular with the boys.

I'm also slightly bisexual. I'm attracted to men, not women. I would never choose a female partner for even a date, let alone for sex. But I'm not opposed to masturbating with a female toy. Sophie happens to be my favorite sex toy to pleasure myself with. Her tongue has two big advantages over my vibrator: one, it's very delicate and tender. Two, no matter how much I use it, its batteries never die at the worst possible moment! It's better than fresh bunny batteries, it just keeps going until I want it to stop. And I don't even have to hold it in place!

When I want sex I never use one of my toys. I never allow a toy touch, or even see, all of me. And I never bring a toy to my bedroom. Nor do I chose a woman. I pick a man, usually one I find in a club or cafe, or wherever. I flirt, dance dirty a little and if he meets my standards, I ask if he's interested in a one-time-only, no-names-exchanged, hook-up. I've never been turned down.

I have a few standards for my hook-ups. I never pick a guy I know or even just see around. And I insist on a cock between 7 and 9" long and 1.5" across, plus or minus a small bit. I won't touch a guy who isn't circumcised, either. I hate the way the foreskin feels inside me. I want to feel that fat head. The dirty dancing gives me plenty of time to tease a guy hard and feel for myself what he's got. It's the only way not to be disappointed. Guys always lie about their equipment!

Sophie is my 19-year-old live-in slave-girl. She's slightly petite at 5'4" and 119 pounds. She's pretty, too, with long honey-blond hair, green eyes, and a 34-B chest. Sophie is extremely devoted to me. So devoted, and so happy as my slave, that despite not being attracted to women, she's a virgin with men. She serves and pleasures only me, and those I give her to. And while I use her, even with my male toys, I won't allow any man to touch her pussy or penetrate her bottom. Those are mine. Only mine. I've owned her since she graduated high school, but I've known her longer. Since about two months after her 18th birthday, which was also about two months before she finished high school.

I have three BFFs, (Isabelle, Reagan, and Ellie) none of whom are into my little games. But all of whom occasionally creep into my stories. After all, they are my BFFs so they tend to be around. Luckily they're not offended by anything they happen to see. They're just not eager for me to put on a show on their account.

I also have a circle of five other women friends, all of whom are Dommes as well. Andrea (26), Janelle (35), Colette (39), Diane (43), and Olive (44). we usually get together every couple of weeks for coffee and a little chat about who's doing what to whom lately. We sometimes share, or loan, our toys to each other, but not that often. Sometimes we do a favor for each other, such as providing something different for a toy. Mostly we do what girls do: we gossip.

I get all of my toys through networking. It's almost always either one of the women in our circle who has a toy she doesn't want and offers to point it at another who is interested. Or sometimes one of my toys tells someone, who tells someone, and so on until someone asks my toy to introduce someone to me. Rarely it's someone I don't play with, but who knows what I'm into, who asks me to meet someone.

An Oral Surprise

It's going to be a busy day. Before I even left my breakfast table this morning, I'd gotten a text from my friend Olive asking for an "emergency" favor. She'd been planning to do it herself, but now she's stuck dealing with a "sick" kid. I use quotes because she told me his stomach flu coincides miraculously with a school project he's been dreading. Her son is 8. Of course, I agreed to see to the favor for her. Olive is a pretty good friend of mine, even if she is a generation older and we have little in common besides our dominance and sense of humor.

The toy is a 55-year-old attorney with a good reputation around town. He's known as one of the good old boys. One of the attorneys who can usually get about anything done in the courthouse. Unless the other attorney is also one of the good old boys, then tradition requires compromise. Or, as is the case today, it's a criminal matter and the defendant very unwisely demands his jury trial. The DA doesn't lose many of those. And the judges tend to help the DA as much as they can. Oh, and judges can do pretty much whatever they want to. So victories are rare. But Jim is one of the lawyers who can (possibly) win one. Thus he's one of the most expensive attorneys in town.

I don't have time to get all the details from Olive. Few of them really matter anyway. I know Olive is a clerk with the circuit court here in Mobile, and she tells me that's where Jim's trial is going to be. I know that's how she met him. I know that more than one of the denizens of our courthouse are her toys. But as far as I know, and I'd know, none of our judges are. Too bad, I could have fun with a judge. And there's d be the added advantage of being virtually immune from losing a lawsuit. It's called Southern Justice. Who you know is far more important than what you've done.

Olive tells me that the trial is for a man accused of arson and insurance fraud. He supposedly burned down an empty house on a lot he owned to clear the land for a new house. Then filed an insurance claim on the former building to reduce the cost of the new home he was going to build. Supposedly since he swears he didn't do it and doesn't know who did. I can just hear Olive winking as she tells me that. I think she only tells me the story because she knows I'll ask. If the defendant was accused of crimes against women or children or was a sex offender, I wouldn't be interested in helping out.

Oh, we're not going to fix the trial or anything like that. About a year ago, Olive paid Jim a visit right before he started a big trial. She utterly humiliated him. He won his trial, and he hadn't expected to have even a chance at it. That defendant was so obviously guilty. But he won. Since then, Jim has had a superstitious belief that he needs a good dose of humiliation before a jury trial. If he suffers enough at Olive's hands before the trial, then he won't have to suffer the humiliation of defeat at trial. He's seven for seven in jury trials since then. Olive thinks, and I agree, that a quick visit before the trial frees Jim's mind up and lets him focus more clearly on his case.

I only ask about Jim. What excites him and what doesn't. What humiliates him. Olive fills me in and asks only that I let her know what I did with her toy afterward. Just in case he says something to her, she would prefer to appear omniscient. I can't blame her for that.

Jim is married, and luckily for me doesn't have any kids left at home. He shares his home with only his wife of 31 years. She, according to Olive, is a "reluctant" partner in what she calls his "escapades." She will reluctantly, but willingly, watch. More reluctantly, and far less willing, she will allow herself to be used as a prop as long as she doesn't have to do anything to anyone but Jim. And preferably if very little, or better yet, nothing is done to her. They also have a housekeeper who shows up at seven every morning. She's been with them "forever" according to Olive.

I arrive a few minutes after seven. As always, Olive hadn't told Jim what she's planning for his before trial "motivational session." She hasn't even promised him that he'd get one. She does as I do for such things. Simply calls the toy and summons him to someplace immediately to administer his lesson, and expects that once summoned, the toy will sprint right over for his lesson.

I have Sophie, my live-in slave-girl, it tow this morning. She's dressed for her classes, so she looks almost like a college girl in a very cute flower-print dress that hangs to just above her knees. It's far more modest than what I prefer to dress her in, but I do have to worry about her college's dress code. This dress just barely meets it. Of course, she's wearing her collar. That never comes off. There's a shiny brass padlock on it to make sure it doesn't! Her collar is pastel green, made of very soft and plush leather, and fringed with a frilly white lace. I have a matching pastel green leash clipped to it now.

It's Jim's wife who answers the door. Then she immediately casts a very wary eye over me. I guess the leashed Sophie gave me away? She asks who I am. I don't tell her. I just barge past her and let myself in, leading Sophie along. I tell her only that I am Olive's friend and I am here to see "the utterly worthless maggot you call a husband." She calls his name loudly and more or less flees to go find him. I guess she's figured out what I'm here to see Jim about. And plans to vanish lest I decide her assistance is needed.

It takes close to a minute, but Jim comes out already dressed for his trial in a nice suit. Tie and all. He sees me, then hesitates for just a fraction of a second when he does. I'm not Olive, and he was expecting her. I've never met him, and he hasn't a clue who I am. I know that Olive has asked our friend Colette to visit him once before. So he knows that she may send someone else to see to him. But Colette is a soccer mom Olive's age. I just turned 20. And I look exactly like a college girl. Quite possibly because I'm on my way to my college classes? It shows on his face that he never imagined that any of Olive's friends would be like me: young and pretty. He expected middle-aged women like Olive. Oops. Never assume anything!

"Come on, bitch." I snap without raising my voice, "get your spineless snake's butt over here before it's over my knees."

It's enough to get his attention. He picks up his pace. He comes over and stops in front of me. He immediately drops to his knees, knees spread wide, sits back with his bottom over his heels, and puts his hands behind his back. He looks straight ahead, his eyes downcast. "Forgive me, Ma'am. My Mistress didn't tell me to expect you, Ma'am."

I snap my fingers and hold my hand out. "Silencer, slave."

Sophie replies with a very humble "Yes, Mistress." She's my bag carrier, among other things. She reaches in the bag, an over-sized purse I've packed with my stuff and some toys for today, and comes out with the requested toy. She puts it in my hand gently.

The "silencer" is a toy I had made for me by some boys I know at a frat house. They'll build just anything I want them to. And they'll do as good of a job as any machine shop could. They don't exactly charge me, either. I "pay" them with (usually) Shelbie. I leash Shelbie and take her over there where her body is my payment. She loves it as much as the frat boys do.

It started its life as a clamp off a pair of jumper cables. Its spring has been loosened up just a little so that it won't be strong enough to injure anyone. Its teeth have been shortened to tiny, but sharp, nubs. And it's bottom jaw has been forked to make room for the tendon under a tongue to slip into its new groove. Oh, and instead of red or black, it's handle has been recovered in pastel green.

I use one hand to pinch the corners of Jim's jaw hard, forcing his mouth to stretch wide open. I squeeze the clamp, opening its jaw. I move very slowly as I slide the clamp's jaws along his teeth, slipping it into his mouth. "I didn't give you permission to speak, bitch." I scold him sternly, still not raising my voice. I slowly release my grip, letting the clamp close. At first, its jaws pinch his tongue. As it closes tighter, its little teeth start biting into his tongue.

Jim starts wincing hard. He groans a loud, and slightly girly-squeaking "UH-OW!" I see his eyes starting to get wet as it bites down.

I leave it there, it's jaws biting on his so-tender tongue, its handle widening between his teeth to hold his mouth open too. I tap my foot impatiently, counting off about twenty seconds. And I watch as Jim fidgets slightly, grimacing hard, with the clamp on his tongue. "Now are you ready to behave your naughty little snake-butt, bitch?"

Jim very eagerly nods that he is.

"And you'll speak only when I tell you what you want to say?"

Again, he very eagerly nods that he will.

I take the clamp from his tongue. Jim pants a quick, single, breath of relief. Then he closes his mouth with a very faint, muted, "ow" under his breath. He kneels and waits in silence.

I have about half an hour to get Jim out the door before he's late for court and thus guaranteed to lose his case. It's time enough for the quick lesson I've planned, one I hope is certain to remind his of his place in the world, but not a lot of time to play around. I'm counting on Olive to have taught him the finer points of behaving.

"I hear you have a big trial today, bitch," I say tauntingly sweet. "Does the stupid criminal have any clue what filthy, worthless, snake he's hired to lose his case for him?"

"No, Ma'am." Jim answers.

"Well... I guess I'll just have to motivate you to act like a shark, then..." I pretend that I'm thinking for a moment. "I think a good blow job will clear that disgusting brain of yours." The instant I suggest a blow job, I see his eyes very quickly dart to Sophie and sweep over her body. The hint of a grin, one he's trying hard to hide and not quite succeeding, creeps onto the corners of his mouth. It's obvious what he's thinking. He's wondering what Sophie's mouth will be like. If I will have her strip before getting on her knees so he can see the very pretty young woman nude too. He's thinking what a rare treat it would be to not only get a blow job from an unknown woman but also not to end up divorced over it.

"Go get your wife. Tell her to come watch your blow job. And hurry, bitch, I hate to be kept waiting."

"Yes, Ma'am." He says. He hops to his feet and walks off quickly to find his wife. I wait, imagining how uncomfortable he must be as he's asking his wife to come watch another woman suck his cock. And how humiliating the asking must be for both of them. I doubt she wants to see it, too. It takes him about two minutes to come back.

His wife follows him into the room, a very unhappy look on her face. She takes a place across the room from us, leaning back against the wall with her arms folded over her chest as she glares at us. I can see the anger in her eyes as she looks to me. Jim returns to his place at my feet and kneels. This time he waits silently. When I tell him to speak, he says "I brought my wife to watch my blow job as you commanded, Ma'am."

Jim's wife is a slightly heavy-set woman who looks to be in her early 50's. She's around 5'6", and I'd guess not quite 180 pounds. It's enough to give a little plumpness to her look. As if maybe, in her youth, she was a strong, stocky-looking woman. She has short, gray hair, down to her shoulders, brown eyes, and an ample bosom. And right now, she has a very hard, stern look on her face.

"Does Judy suck your cock for you, bitch?" I ask him.

"Yes, Ma'am..."

"Often?"

"Oh, no, Ma'am." He confesses.

"Do you like it when your cock gets sucked?"

"Oh, YES, Ma'am."

"Stand and get naked, bitch."

Jim is up to his feet quickly. He starts shedding his clothes quickly, as I told him to do. "Get naked" means for him to do just that. It doesn't matter how the clothes come off, as long as they all come off quickly. Olive, and our other dominant friends, all use the same commands. It helps when we share toys and do favors for each other, like now. Jim already knows what to do when I give him a command. I don't have to waste time, that we don't have now, teaching him.

It takes him about a minute and a half. Then he's standing there, fully naked. He's decently tall, I'd guess around 5'10", maybe a hair more, and well-built. I guess around 180 pounds. He has an oval face, with a sharp, angular jawline. His gray hair, buzz-cut short, still has tinges of its former black color. He has a short beard and mustache, all of which are neatly trimmed up. He has blue eyes. And he has a slightly long, fairly wide nose with slightly plump and rounded features to it.

He's hairy. His body, at least the front of it, is covered by a medium-dense fur of short black hairs. Except along his chest at his shoulders where the hairs have grayed. Even the hairs on his pubes are short. Not trimmed, just short and straight which makes them look more sparse than they are.

His cock is what I'd describe as decent. Somewhat, modestly, above average in length. I'd guess he measures around 5 ¾". Not especially thick, maybe about ¾" across. It's circumcised, which I consider a plus. Not just because it lets me see its light purple head. But his shaft has a slight curve to it, up and to his left. It's not much of a curve, but it is enough that it probably makes his shaft feel a little thicker than it truly is. For a vanilla woman, like his wife, I'd think she'd consider it a plus.

His cock is rock hard. It stands out straight from his pubes as if stretching out to reach me. I reach my hand out to his shaft. I tenderly run the tips of my fingers along the stiff length, starting at the base and working slowly up to its head. His cock twitches slightly as my fingers tease it. "Ooh..." I coo teasingly, "look, slave! Snakes do have dicks!"

Sophie giggles. She's heard me call lawyers snakes and sharks. It's not that I don't like lawyers, I don't like paying their bills. I especially don't like that there's no way to get by in business without paying one, except to go to law school.

I swirl my finger around the head of his cock. It gets me a good twitch that makes his cock jump a little. I tell Sophie to get out the handcuffs and cuff Jim. She locks his hands behind his back.