A Cup of Tea Bk. 03

He started with masturbation. Every morning he looked forward to a hot shower, and replaying every detail of their last sexual encounter. His eyelids pressed tightly shut as he remembered her scream of unadulterated pleasure. His cum arced against the wall tiles, swept away by the hot spray.

After a week apart masturbation no longer satisfied him. He started self-flagellation. He hit himself with a birch rod until he was close to breaking the skin, but without the pain coupled with the surrender of control, it was nothing more than a hollow experience. But then he found porn on his laptop. Dax was never that interested in internet porn, and his tastes before meeting Keiko were strictly vanilla. But those tastes had been broadened, and Dax had dipped his toe in the world of BDSM, and the variety of practices under this broad genre that were available on the internet was staggering. Dax started spending his evening thinking about Keiko and surfing the web.

He started with whipping and masturbated as he watched subs begging to be whipped. It reminded him of the whippings he received from Keiko, recalling them in vivid detail. But he went darker, to places he and Keiko hadn't explored, being fascinated with golden showers and humiliation. He fantasized about doing those unspeakable things and masturbated to a satisfying orgasm. But the want started almost the moment his cock dribbled the last of his spend. And it was worse each time. The gnawing want. The all-consuming want. He hungered for the submission -- the delicious transfer of control -- the pleasure that followed.

After Keiko was gone for two weeks, he started thinking about Elaine Harris. He pulled her card, dog eared and defaced. In a fit of rage after she told him to fuck off he crossed out her name and wrote in "BITCH" underneath it. It didn't keep him from saving the card and didn't keep him from calling her back that same day. He couldn't forget that he no-showed her because he got back together with Keiko. But it didn't keep him from thinking about the attractive Domme. Thinking about her long, strawberry blonde hair, her large, mature breasts, and her silky voice, a voice that barked out orders with authority. He envisioned her issuing him commands, punishing him, and controlling his pleasure. His cock stirred in his pants as his lustful thoughts consumed him.

During day fourteen of their involuntary separation, Dax was sitting in his office and fished Elaine Harris's crumpled business card out of his wallet. He tossed it on his desk, it landing on his blotter on top of a small stack of papers. He tried not to think about it, returning phone calls and taking a few meetings in his office. But the card, and what it represented, beckoned him, like a siren's call, tugging at him as if it exerted its own gravitational pull. It was a compulsion too strong to resist. He straightened the rumpled card with the heel of his hand, then squinted to read the faded numbers. He dialed it without hesitation.

It was a moment of weakness for Dax. His head told him it was a mistake. But even he couldn't have imagined this call would have enormous consequences.

"Hello?" said the voice of a professional businesswoman.

Even her voice made his stomach knot up. He forced himself to speak. "This is Dax ... Dax Hanlon."

"Fuck off," she said, as if she was firing him. The line went silent. Instead of cowering, Dax became desperate. He wanted her even more now. The voice, the command, the power; he soaked up that energy like a damp sponge. He hit redial.

"I told you to fuck off." But she didn't hang up. She waited for his response.

"Wait ... wait, Mistress Elaine. I beg of you."

"That's better," she said in a calmer voice. "What exactly are you begging for?" she drawled with practiced casual indifference.

"Mistress Elaine. I need to see you," he blurted, sounding more like a lovesick teenager than a successful businessman.

"Take a picture of your dick, now, and text it to me." She terminated the call before he could respond. There was no hesitation in her voice.

Dax ran to his door and slammed it shut, then struggled to get his briefs off because his cock was already rock hard at the notion of submitting to the haunting woman. He was already playing her game of humiliation.

She was already enjoying two subs in her Connecticut weekend home. They maintained her house in tip top condition without complaining (and of course without pay), and derived real sexual pleasure from minor humiliations suffered by themselves and by their partner submissive. Jennifer was a buxom blonde, big tits, a lot of attitude and a real passion for fucking, the kinkier the better. She hated housework. At Mistress Elaine's country estate, she was responsible for all plumbing matters and for cleaning the bathrooms and kitchen on a daily basis. Her "partner" was Boxwood, a balding male in his 60's with the usual paunch. He was relegated to wearing woman's briefs and a bra to perform the remainder of the housework, including a thorough vacuuming of the house at the end of each day.

Sometimes Boxwood would be directed to wear a pair of heels the entire day while he was performing his chores. Jennifer would laugh uncontrollably when Boxwood would invariably lose his balance and knock over and break something. That of course would lead to an appropriate punishment in the "recreation" room that she made specially for this type of activity. Having recently been punished for such a transgression, Boxwood was still stiff from his "light" caning with one of Mistress Elaine's new birch rods.

Mistress Elaine laughed when her phone chimed. It was a picture of a big cock, erect and ready. She texted back a message, "You can call me." Within moments, her phone played the first bars of a popular song.

"What the fuck do you want?" she said all nice and pretty.

"Did you get my picture, Mistress Elaine?" he said a bit too eagerly.

"What do you think?" A buzz was already going through Dax as he was talking to this hypnotic woman.

"Of course you did. I want a chance, Mistress Elaine."

"So who are you again?" Elaine knew exactly who he was, but didn't want to give him the satisfaction that she remembered him.

"We met at the club ... you know?" he said, struggling to find the right words. No response. "Umm ... you squeezed my bicep?"

The image flashed immediately in her mind. Tall, well built ... and his cock. She remembered all of it in vivid detail, and the picture he sent her reinforced it. She knew what could be done with a cock like that.

"My subs will do anything I ask of them."

The phone went silent for what seemed like an eternity to Dax. "Will you?" she finally asked.

Dax knew he would have to answer this question. He didn't know when, or even if, Keiko would return. He couldn't sleep. His mind was perpetually foggy. She was a drug to him, and he was experiencing symptoms from her withdrawal -- a void eagerly filled by Mistress Elaine.

"Yes, Mistress Elaine." It flowed out of him, the irresistible pull of submission ... the inescapable truth that Keiko had exposed to him. Its pull was strong, enough to overcome his devotion to Keiko, a thousand miles away and virtually in communicado for two weeks.

"I'll text you the address. If you stand me up again, I'll make sure that you're licking your balls ... and worse." Mistress Elaine remembered that the last time Dax had called her he failed to show up at the appointed time, his trip aborted by his reconciliation with Keiko. It was playtime, but it was serious playtime, and Mistress Elaine expected nothing less than blind obedience.

* * *

It was one of those typical hot, humid, New York City late summer days. You know, the ones where your clothes stick to your skin while you're counting the minutes until your next shower. By force of habit, Dax chose a lightweight suit to wear to Elaine's estate. He wasn't sure what she had in mind, but was sure he didn't want to arrive underdressed. The Bentley purred as it navigated through city traffic to the open spaces of the Connecticut countryside.

Mason drove Dax deep into unfamiliar territory, finding that his GPS was no longer of help. He pulled to the side of the roadway and scrolled though his messages, finding the one with the directions sent by Elaine. He handed his phone to Dax, and had him help navigate the last few miles of the drive. As they ventured through the winding, heavily wooded roads, they came upon a long expanse of fenced horse pasture and then a gravel driveway leading to Elaine's house, looming in the distance.

"Impressive Sir," said Mason, studying the sprawling two story chateau. Dax heard the crunch of the gravel under the Bentley's tires and peered out the tinted window, seeing acres of horse pasture. He wondered what possessed him to seek this out, but the erection in his pants told him that his desires were, for the most part, outside of his ability to control them.

The Bentley arrived at a large paved parking area. Mason wheeled the luxury automobile as close to the house as he could.

Not knowing what else to say, Mason filled the silence as he opened the passenger door. "Good luck Sir."

Dax got out and gave Mason a knowing look. "Thanks, I may need it." He was dressed in a coat and tie, looking more appropriate for the boardroom instead of the bedroom. Reflexively, he fixed the knot on his tie as he walked to the service entrance (per Mistress Elaine's written instructions), the midday sun beating down on him.

He examined the door, looking for a doorbell button to push. Seeing none, he knocked firmly on the windowless white wooden door. He stood there patiently, his heart thumping in his chest. He heard the padding of footsteps, then the door opened. It was answered by an older man wearing only women's panties and an ill-fitting bra.

"Hello Sir, we've been expecting you. Mr. Hanlon I presume?" the man in lingerie said with as much dignity as he could muster.

Dax had a hard time keeping a straight face, seeing this man looking ridiculous dressed in nothing but women's lingerie. The man must have been accustomed this reaction, and simply walked away, assuming the guest would follow him. Dax did, wandering through a large gourmet country kitchen with all of the latest appliances, and then he saw a nude woman scrubbing the kitchen floor on her hands and knees. She was slightly overweight but very attractive, and had large breasts with nipples that practically touched the floor as she worked. She didn't look up when Dax entered the room.

Boxwood pointed to her as they passed. "Oh, that's Jennifer. She's being disciplined right now so we're not allowed to speak with her."

Boxwood led Dax to the living room and pointed to a chair that was designated for him. The older submissive straightened the crotch of his panties and turned around and went back to the kitchen. Moments later Mistress Elaine breezed in, wearing a white linen jacket, a powder blue cotton blouse, white pants and light brown woven leather shoes. She was tall, thin, and seductively attractive. She looked like the million dollars that she had in the bank.

She ignored Dax, staring ahead to the kitchen, "Jennifer, Boxwood, come my pets."

Jennifer came in, nude, with red marks on her knees, muttering under her breath, and Boxwood, now wearing ridiculous high heel shoes and tottering in, looking as if at any moment he might topple over. They knelt on opposite sides of their Mistress.

"Hello Dax. So glad that you could make it," she purred. "I thought it would be good for you to meet Boxwood and Jennifer. What did you think about Boxwood?"

"It was a little strange seeing him in women's underwear." That was an understatement. Dax was new to Mistress Elaine's brand of humiliation.

"It is, but Boxwood craves humiliation. The more the better. I assume that's not your gig?"

"No, I don't think so."

"But you'd do it if I asked you, wouldn't you?"

"I would... Mistress Elaine."

"Now that's acting like a good pet."

Then she put her hand on her chin, pondering her next move. "What about if you watch? You can join in if you like." She knew there was something more there, and she was going to find it and squeeze every drop of depravity from him. For her, the thrill of the chase is what got her blood pumping. Finding and exploiting a submissive's deepest, darkest desires was her chosen specialty. Dax was her newest challenge.

"I'd like to watch, please."

Elaine thought she'd start with Boxwood. "Jennifer, you're excused. You can continue with your chores," the Domme said dismissively. The busty blonde went into the kitchen and threw her washrag into a pail, splashing the dirty water on the floor. She was still muttering under her breath.

"Jennifer!" Mistress Elaine barked. "Come here now."

Jennifer stopped in her tracks, slumped her shoulders, and turned about to face her Mistress. She stood there, outwardly fearing her punishment, but her mind craved the sharp correction of the whip and the liberating feeling of submission. But with that came the guilt and the self-loathing, followed by the want, the irresistible force that could overcome all manner of obstacles. Mistress Elaine knew how to caress and nurture that dark kernel of want. Jennifer had been with Mistress Elaine for almost two years, and the two woman seemed to be at odds, but it was their perverted dance that led to their mutual satisfaction. Mistress Elaine was playing her part as Jennifer's dance partner.

"Jennifer, do I sense attitude on your part?" Her voice was school marm sharp.

"No, Mistress Elaine...no Mistress Elaine. I've been a good girl ... really."

"But I just saw you throw your sponge into your bucket and curse, isn't that right?"

Jennifer knew she was in the wrong, but wanted to struggle. "No... no, I just dropped it."

"Jennifer, you're making this worse if you lie to me." She gave the submissive blonde "the look."

"You're not lying to me now, are you?"

"No .. yes Mistress Elaine. I'm so sorry. Sometimes I get angry and act out. I won't do it again." Jennifer acted contrite, but her pussy was already wet, anticipating her punishment.

"You know you're going to have to be punished for this."

She was rubbing her hands together, nervously. "Yes, Mistress Elaine. I understand." She bent over, her thighs quivering, and arched her back. The Domme issued the expected order.

"Boxwood, get me the riding crop. You know where it is?"

"Yes Mistress." Boxwood, unsteady on his feet, took short steps towards the stairway. He tentatively climbed the stairs. Jennifer remained bent over. Dax studied Jennifer's jiggling booty and boobs as she waited. For Jennifer, the waiting was the best and worst at the same time.

After a minute (which seemed like an hour for Jennifer), Boxwood arrived holding a black riding crop. He handed it to his Mistress.

Elaine tapped the handle of a riding crop on the palm of her hand, each slap causing Jennifer to shiver. The tall woman gave a mischievous grin and flicked her wrist, creating the perfect whip action for the tab of the riding crop to land dead center on Jennifer's plump ass. The voluptuous blonde jerked forward and let out a squeal when the leather tab kissed her tender white skin. Dax sat there, almost numb to the spectacle, his pleasure receptors measuring off the charts. It was clear that Mistress Elaine had considerable experience handling a scene such as this one. The subs knew their roles, and the seemingly droll drumbeat of daily life at the summer house was really a complicated play, where each actor and actress played their part to perfection, and reaped the rewards of well-executed domination and submission.

"You deserve to be punished, don't you Jennifer?" She spit out the words as if they left a bad taste in her mouth. Jennifer cowered, her ass starting to give out a faint pink glow.

"No... Mistress... no."

The Domme bent over at the waist and spoke directly into Jennifer's left ear. "Tell me the truth, you miserable slut."

Jennifer started sobbing. Mistress Elaine administered another stroke, this one closer to her pussy. Jennifer howled, restraining her hand from rubbing her bottom. The pain was running through her like greased lightening, overloading every nerve receptor. She craved the warmth that would follow the pain.

"Lay down slut. I'm not done with you."

Jennifer laid on her back, legs spread apart with her knees up, her puffy, weeping sex exposed. She was still sniffling, but underneath she was raging with need. Dax thought she was one of the sexiest women on the planet.

Elaine studied Dax's reaction to Jennifer's punishment. His face was flush, and sweat was already beading on his forehead. He loosened his tie so he could breathe.

"She likes to be punished. I put up with her insubordination because she's so sexy. Plus Boxwood likes her, don't you Boxwood?"

He nodded. "Yes, Mistress."

"Boxwood and Jennifer sort of have a thing for each other," Elaine started, uncaring that the people she was talking about were right in front of her. "He likes to fuck her, that much is clear, and Jennifer seems to like it."

"Jennifer, are you my little needy slut?"

Jennifer's overpowering want controlled her actions. Nothing else mattered. She said exactly what was on her mind.

"I am Mistress. I'm a needy slut."

"Let's see what we can do about that. Boxwood, fuck her and cum in her pussy."

Boxwood was delighted to hear her "order" to him. He relished the opportunity to be with Jennifer. Like Dax, he found her to be a sexy woman. Jennifer would never admit it, but she enjoyed Boxwood's company and found him to be well-endowed and an above average lover. Boxwood stripped off his women's lingerie and kicked off his heels, then lowered himself on top of her. His cock was already erect and dripping, so no foreplay was necessary for this matched pair. He thrust deep inside her on the first stroke.

"Ohhhhh," the blonde moaned as his penis stretched the walls of her weeping pussy. She wiggled her hips, trying to get the head of his penis to massage her G-spot.

Her moans increased his ardor and the speed of his strokes as the two of them ascended to their release. Boxwood had been given permission to cum, but Jennifer wasn't.

The room was quiet, except for the occasional moan or grunt and the slapping sounds of Boxwood's pelvis against Jennifer's. Then Jennifer started to plead.

"Please ... please" she begged, not expecting permission to be given yet.

Elaine just smiled at her, saying nothing, as the tension ... and the want ... grew.

"Faster Boxwood," she urged her submissive, and faster he went, seeking his own release.

Boxwood started grunting, the air in the room smelling of sex and sweat. His cock expanded with a final push and he spurted his seed deep into Jennifer's needy cunt.

"Ffffuck!" he grunted as he pressed his hips tight against hers.

"Are you my greedy little slut?" asked Elaine at the most inopportune time.

Jennifer was struggling to hold back her orgasm, but it was clear she was losing that battle.

"Yes Mistress, I am," she said between her shallow breaths.

"You're what?"

"I'm a greedy little slut Mistress." There was true desperation in her voice.

"You may cum, slut."

"Aaaahhhhhhh," she exhaled, the dam breaking and the pleasure flooding every cell in her body. There was no better drug for the submissive than humiliation followed by orgasm denial. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back, not caring that others were witnessing the fulfillment of her darkest desires.

Dax watched with rapt attention as Jennifer, Boxwood and Mistress Elaine all willingly used each other to achieve their own personal sexual gratification. He no longer wanted to be a spectator. Mistress Elaine knew this.