Dianne

I felt guilty for my fascination with it, but couldn't take my eyes away. Much as I loved Him, something deep within me yearned to touch that youthful penis in front of me, stroke it, explore it. The mere sight of the boy's wand had aroused some primal call in me; it was all I could do to lie still. I was ashamed to wonder what it would feel like inside me. I dismissed the thought, but it immediately returned.

In short, while I adored Him, honoured Him, cherished my bonds to Him, I still found myself irresistibly drawn to Aaron's sheer primeval masculinity.

As I gazed at Aeron's manhood and her systematic torment of it, He and she suddenly began a discussion in another language. I think it might have been Hungarian, but in reality, it could have been almost anything. I certainly understood none of it.

Her alto voice and His deep one played with each other, almost melodious in concert.

It went on for quite some time. At times the discussion turned heated, at other times it seemed cheerful. Sometimes it subsided into lengthy silences.

Meanwhile, His other hand had begun to stroke my lower lips. Slowly, lightly -- and how I hoped lovingly! -- His gentle, cherished fingers leisurely drove my desire higher and higher. There was no prodding, no pulls, no entry, just continual feather-light stimulation. His fingertips stroked around them, paused on my inner thighs, moved gently and slowly between them, gently grasped them as a pair and squeezed.

I felt myself rapidly becoming wet in response. My nipples were as hard as I had ever felt them. I found it hard to breath.

Looking at Aaron, I could see that he too had been overtaken by the deepest lust. His mistress' slender fingers continued to do nothing but tenderly roll the skin of his frenulum - persistently, insistently, compellingly.

I could see blood pulsing in the veins on Aaron's thick shaft, muscles twitching in his massive thighs. His nostrils were dilated, his eyes half-closed in what I took to be a mix of pleasure and frustration.

His fingers finally dipped into my pussy, began to linger lazily on my clit. I shuddered in desire, quivered.

I was very close. I found myself moaning in my need.

Sensing how close I was, He suddenly withdrew His hands and pushed me to my feet. "None of that, Dianne!" He commanded. "Fetch us more wine." His strong hand gave me a firm slap on one bum cheek to send me on my way.

I hurried to the pantry, my heels clicking on the slate floor. Uncorking another bottle, I returned as quickly as I could, knelt to refill first her glass and then, moving to kneel before Him, His. Aaron had barely touched his wine; his eyes were closed and perspiration beaded his forehead. Clearly, he was as turned on as I was and, equally clearly, no more allowed an orgasm without permission than myself.

I set the bottle down on the table. Without a pause in the conversation, His hand caught mine and I was again pulled into His lap. His hands returned to my breasts, thighs and pussy. I was burning with desire, but forced myself to lie still and accept His pleasure. It was, after all, for this that I existed.

The discussion continued. The two might have been talking about the weather, deliberating a corporate takeover, plotting a coup in Nicaragua or simply making plans for a family picnic. I had no idea and it was if Aaron and I were mere decorations or floral arrangements at a catered event.

I was fascinated by the expression on Aaron's face as his mistress continued to languidly torment him. As befitted his position, the boy was clearly striving for control. Equally, I could clearly see the need, the desire and the passion he was feeling.

I was so confused, so very uncertain of myself. I had never been involved in anything like this in the time He had owned me. I and others had been displayed on occasion when He and His friends had got together, but this kind of display, this kind of performance? No, I utterly was out of my depth. Bear in mind that I was but 19 years old. What could I have learned of such in such a short time?

And I hadn't the time or ability to think it through, for those insistent fingers kept rolling and pulling my nipples, flowing across my skin, stroking my clit, pulling on my lower lips. He was stoking a fire I had never known before and didn't know how to handle. Physically, I was a woman; emotionally, I was but a toy for His amusement.

Aaron's cock was engorged, quivering, its head purple. I thought I could smell the urgency of his craving.

The boy's eyes were closed, his breathing ragged. I could see him trying to relax his muscles, stave off orgasm.

Through it all, her soft fingers kept rolling the same fold of ultra-tender skin, gently, softly, implacably.

Suddenly, without interrupting the discussion, He pushed me to my feet and then, taking me by the wrist, pulled me down across His lap, over His knees.

I was, just for a moment, quite terrified. Had I done something to deserve punishment? Hadn't He told His guest that He'd forgiven me for touching Aaron?

Or was this just a whim on His part? I knew spanking me was something He enjoyed for its own sake, something He permitted Himself from time to time - just because. There were times my body under paddle or open palm seemed to be a mere diversion for Him, simply a way to pass the time, as opposed to His indulging in anything sexual or reproving me for some fault of mine.

Was I now to be spanked in front of His guest as mere entertainment? If so, for whose amusement -- for hers or for His?

Indeed, His first move was a broad slap on my right buttock, but to my surprise it was gentle, almost loving. His long fingers tenderly fondled the spot for a moment before they slipped between my buttocks, between my thighs, and recommenced stroking my pussy.

The new position altered the sensation, which I swiftly guessed was why He had shifted me. Not better, not worse, but certainly a different stimulation, one calculated in His skill to prolong and deepen His arousal of me.

Through my entire body, I could feel a monstrous orgasm hammering at my gates, demanding entry. My breath was coming in pants. My breasts cried out for release.

I could feel the rough Glen plaid fabric of His suit rubbing on my swollen nipples. They felt neglected, teased; they begged for attention.

Almost as an answer to a prayer, He shifted me so as to be able to reach them with His left hand and that made it both better and worse for, while no longer neglected, the level of stimulation had dramatically increased.

By turning my head just a little, I could see that Aaron was in the same situation. In a surprisingly maternal gesture, his mistress had pulled his head down on her shoulder, all the while continuing to play with his aroused and tormented cock. While the boy lay softly against the older woman, I could see one of his hands clenched beside his naked thigh as he fought to control his reactions.

From time to time she would use her free hand to take a sip of wine from her glass or to emphasize a point in the discussion. Despite the sometimes-heated debate, her face seemed as calm as that of a plaster saint.

Periodically, she would release Aaron's manhood, seizing instead one of the boy's nipples and squeezing it roughly, almost cruelly. The boy winced each time she twisted a nipple, but with admirable control, didn't otherwise move. I was jealous of that.

And each time her hand quickly returned to her persistent, lingering, tantalizing torment of his cockhead.

I could well appreciate Arron's frustration. Looking at him from my position over His knees however, I couldn't tell if the boy was pleased or upset to be so treated. Was this a normal event for him?

For myself, while the sensations of His attentions were driving me crazy, I was feeling an almost sinful pride at being deemed so worthy of His attention, honour at being so presented and used before someone clearly one of His peers.

I thought myself luckier than the boy for, while the woman used but one hand on Aaron, both of His were continuously busy with me. From time to time, a hand occasionally stopped probing my pussy or stroking a boob to take a sip of wine or give my bum a gentle slap followed by a lingering caress, but it always returned immediately to my pleasure.

Sometimes I wondered if fondling me like that was something He did just to please Himself, like petting a favoured housecat. I was never sure, but gloried in it either way.

In any case, under my bare stomach, I could feel His hardness inside his trousers. Clearly, He was enjoying Himself. He seemed in no hurry to use me however.

A clear fluid had begun to ooze from Aaron's cock. It seemed, from the movements of her fingers, to be both sticky and slippery. At no time however did she pause her torment of the boy sitting beside her.

And I was young, had had but one lover; I had no idea what I was seeing.

I had no idea what any of this meant.

I knew on the other hand what the fluids on my own thighs were. He had reached for a serviette off the tray I had brought and put it under me, between us. I could smell myself, feel coolness as the air brushed over my slick feminine parts.

The discussion between the two grew more animated. While she had not even for a moment ceased softly toying with Aaron's manhood, the woman's face had grown stern and her voice impassioned. She began waving her free hand at Him almost angrily as they talked.

On the other hand, although I could not see His face, He sounded quite amiable, confident. He switched from one of my nipples to the other, pinching them slightly as was His wont. Despite knowing I should keep quiet, I moaned in response.

Perhaps in response to that, His one hand switched from stimulating my sex and began instead to sweep one palm over my skin, along my flank, over my bum and down my thigh. His other hand left off playing with a nipple; instead, He lightly squeezed and moulded my entire breast.

Then He paused for a moment, His hands quiet on my body.

He said something to the woman in a low voice and, apparently to emphasize His point, gave me a hard, stinging slap on one bum cheek.

With no more than that, her face suddenly changed. Her expression brightened and she broke into musical laughter, in which, a moment later, He joined. The two of them relaxed back on their sofas but continued their sport with Aaron and I.

Apparently satisfied with the outcome of whatever they had been talking about, His hands returned to a more pointed stimulation of my body. As one hand played with an already-hard nipple, his other hand seized both of my labia and gently pulled them in one direction and then another, then rolled them together.

From time to time, one of them would begin giggling, then the other would laugh and the two of them would feed each other's laughter until it died out again.

I could not stop myself from giving a series of low cries as, releasing my lips, His finger pressed firmly down on my button. Before I was forced over the edge into orgasm, it moved on, leaving me quivering in my desire. My breasts ached. My blood pounded in my ears as His gentle fingers moved over me. I found it hard to breathe.

He spoke again, this time in English.

"More wine?" He asked her as His thumb, well-lubricated with my own juices, slowly pushed its way into my after entrance. I bit my lip to stop from crying out. It took all my will to avoid cumming, but I could not, would not embarrass Him in front of His guests by such loss of control. His thumb did not penetrate far, but merely turned and gently squirmed inside me.

I desperately called on all His training, all my experience, to not squirm back in response.

The woman now switched back to English, too.

"No, thank you. Aaron and I have another appointment this evening." She looked at the slim watch on her wrist. "As a matter of fact, we must be going."

Aaron's face changed, just a little. It was clear that he had been desperately longing for some form of release.

"May I order you a cab?" He asked.

"Please." Her slim fingers continued to play with Aaron, but now were stroking, rolling over his engorged, slippery head. The boy was shuddering in his frustration.

The smile on her face seemed cruel to me, showing too much delight at the beautiful boy's constrained lust. I could see none of His love in her treatment of Aaron and prayed again I would never fall into her hands, even with Him there to protect me.

She gave a shrug of her shoulder under the boy's head. "Aaron, get up."

Obediently, the young man lifted himself out of the couch, stood awaiting further direction.

"If you don't mind," she said to Him, "I'd like to see them side by side again."

Looking at me, He nodded briefly.

"Stand facing each other," she said in a low voice. "Inspection!"

The woman walked around the two of us. Aaron and I were only an arm's length apart. I kept my eyes fixed on his chest, but the heavy span of his penis aimed at my belly in my peripheral vision was something I could not ignore entirely.

From time to time, I noticed his eyes flicker briefly down to my breasts. Thank heaven! I thought. At least he's human.

I could feel her gaze locked on my body as she stalked around us. I knew she would not presume to touch me without His permission and prayed she would not ask.

"Do you ever lend her?" she asked.

My breath caught at the prospect. Please, oh please, no!

"Never," was His short reply and I found myself able to breathe again.

"No exceptions? I would so like..."

"Never," He repeated. "Sorry"

"Such a pity." She stepped back, still studying me. "Under different circumstances, they'd make such a perfectly matched exhibition, don't you think?"

I knew it!

His reply was dry. "Under different circumstances."

I wanted to grin in spite, but kept my face still as He would expect.

"Too bad," she stated flatly, shrugging slightly. "Aaron, get dressed."

Without looking at me, the boy turned, went over to his clothes and began dressing.

I waited for Him to direct me to help, but He said nothing.

In short order, she and Aaron departed.

We moved to the front door, where I had first greeted the three of them. Not knowing what else to do, I simply knelt beside Him and hugged His leg with both arms. It was not a proper position, but it seemed appropriate.

Hearing the taxi outside, before she opened the door, she unzipped Aaron's trousers, reached inside and - with no small difficulty due to its size and rigidity - pulled out his much-tormented penis. Throughout the process, the boy stood stolidly, unmoving. His pale hardness looked incongruous protruding from the trousers of his expensive suit.

The end of his tie was actually brushing its head; she took it in her fingers and used it to tease the boy still more, slowly stroking the boy's swollen plum with the silk, smiling up at his face. I could smell Aaron's need and both pitied him in his torment and envied him in being so used.

"You don't mind, do you?" she said, turning her head towards us. Oddly, I got the impression that her question was as much directed at me as it was to the man I was clinging to and wondered what sort of game she was playing.

It was of course hardly my place to reply and I remained still. He said nothing, but I could feel His leg tensing up inside His trousers.

The woman, seeing no reply from either of us, stepped away from Aaron and handed him his overcoat.

"Put on your coat, Aaron, there's a good boy. We don't want to upset the driver now, do we?" Without replacing his unrestrained sex in his trousers, the boy pulled on his coat and buttoned it up. When he was finished, the bottom of his taut, egg-filled sac could just be seen below its hem.

Turning to Him, she smiled. "Thank you, dear. It's been a most instructive evening." She lowered her head towards me, pale eyes openly lingering on my breasts. "If you ever change your mind, do let me know." Without waiting for a response, she pulled the door open. The air inside instantly filled with the frost from outside.

And with that, the two of them were gone into an unquestioning and utterly unresponsive darkness.

As the door closed behind them, I was suddenly struck by how quiet the house was.

He looked down at me, still clinging to His leg. He put one finger under my chin, lifted. Obediently, I rose to my feet.

"Oh, Dianne," He said softly, "Whatever am I to do with you?"

I said nothing. There was indeed nothing for me to say and I waited for His judgement with bowed head.

"Clutching my leg like that. Whatever were you thinking of?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"No, actually," He said, again very softly, this time with a wry smile. "It was improper, but under the circumstances, it was precisely the right thing to do. What made you think of it?"

"I... I was afraid." I admitted.

"Afraid?" He peered down at me, pulled me in for a hug. Laying my head on His shoulder, I again felt the rough wool of His suit against my nipples.

I couldn't understand it, couldn't understand anything which had passed that night. I began to panic.

"Of her. Of losing you. Of Aaron being..." I started to run on in my upset.

One finger on my lips halted my flow of words. "Stop," he said.

With one firm hand, He grasped me by my bum before wordlessly guiding me into His bedroom.

"Undress me, Dianne," He commanded.

My heart beating, my fingers raced to obey. In here, I knew where everything should go and in scarcely a minute, He was bare as the day He had been born. I stood with my head downcast, waiting his next command. I both hoped and feared that it would involve the Playroom.

Most of all, I feared I might be banished from His bed for my transgressions.

He was erect, His familiar manhood hard, expectant. I wanted to kneel, caress it, comfort myself by comforting it. If I had even one claim on Him, it bobbed in front of me as He breathed, but uncertainty remained.

"Bend over the bed, Dianne."

My heart soared at His words! I had not upset Him too badly. I scrambled to obey, spreading my legs as I did to expose my sex.

I felt His strong hands sweep over my cheeks, squeeze them, then He gave them two more brisk slaps, one with His right hand, then with His left. I tried to remember my place, kept as still as I could manage. If He wanted me to move, He would tell me. In the meantime, it pleased me to have my body pleasure Him.

Without further ado, He thrust into my depths. I desperately wanted to react, to rear back into Him, to shout the joy His entry was giving me, but managed to both keep still and to avoid the orgasm now besieging both mind and body.

Normally, He took His time inside me, delaying, stopping, beginning again, drawing out His pleasure. Tonight, He seemed eager, needy, wanting to fill me to my deepest depths. He steadied Himself with one hand on my behind; the other clutched my hair near its base and pulled my head back to stare at the far wall as He pounded me into the comforter.

His cock sliding back and forth inside me felt absolutely wonderful. That He deemed me worthy of His use was even more so. To honour His expectations, I struggled for control, fought with all my will to dodge the orgasm almost ready to consume me.

My body was His for His pleasure. My orgasms were His to ordain, also for His pleasure.

Someday, I hoped, He would take me from the front so that I might know what His face looked like when He came.

With a groan, He did. As His fingers dug deep into the softness of my bum, I could feel His organ pulsing inside me, hear His gasps behind me.

As desperate as my body was for release, I felt thrilled at His attention, delighted to be found worthy of His essence, honored to be the instrument of His pleasure.