Feels Dirty to Lie

Mistress had invited someone over. That alone was not a surprise. She did it all the time. The apartment where she kept me and all her other belongings was blessed with plenty of space, which was hard to find in Denver nowadays. It was bigger than any of her friends' homes, so inevitably when she and her friends gathered, they gathered here. Sometimes a single lady friend would come over, and I only needed to cook one extra meal. Other times, a whole pack of friends would arrive, and I would scamper between the kitchen and the table to get everyone's meals to them without running out of counter space—not made easier when Mistress' friends fondled and spanked me as I walked by.

Of course I loved the attention, and since Mistress dressed me like a boy-toy every time, I couldn't pretend to be surprised—but being good eye candy is one thing. Hosting dinner is another. Doing both at once requires a kind of self-discipline and self-awareness that we man-slaves never get enough credit for. When Mistress' friends brought their own man-slaves with, it was a different story. Vika's man Gordon was an excellent partner in the kitchen, and with all of us men serving at once, no one had to hurry. While the women ate, they usually allowed us to retire to the living room, and we men would enjoy the opportunity to talk to members of our own sex.

Tonight would be easy. Mistress hadn't said who was coming, but she had referred to our guest in the singular. It also boded well that Mistress was excited. Of course, it always raised her spirits to have friends over, but somehow, through the language of tone and innuendo, she conveyed that tonight would be special. And my life was always easiest when Mistress had a good time.

In the minutes before the guest was expected, Mistress sat by the front door and read a book while I knelt at her side. That she had me kneel should have been a clue. Some women liked their men to kneel when a guest came in, but Mistress preferred me to stand, and so did all of her regular friends. For that matter, so did almost everyone I knew. And yet, tonight, I waited on my knees.

A fast little knock echoed on the door, and Mistress pulled it open.

"Tanya, welcome!"

"Janet!" squealed the new guest, "what's happening!" And she was barely in the door before she gave Mistress a tight, sweet, feminine hug.

Tanya. I knew that name. I also knew that long black hair, the jackknife jawline and that open, loud, smiling mouth.

Tanya, who I met at Greeley West High School. Tanya, the girl who had taken my virginity. Tanya, the girl whom I'd last seen with tears in her eyes, screaming that I didn't love her and that I was a mistake. Miss Tanya Blakemore, now an honored guest at Mistress Janet's house.

I must have given her a long look, because when Tanya saw me, she laughed. Back when we had dated in high school, I had only ever worn work shorts and blank T-shirts, or pants instead of shorts if I felt like changing things up. Now I wore a leather D-ring collar, a black vest, blue jeans, cowboy boots and nothing else (Mistress had been on a biker-boy kick lately.) My outfit wasn't any racier than what most man-slaves wore around the house, but to Tanya, who'd only ever known me as the good boy at school, I must have looked like a whore. I tried not to blush as she laughed, but I knew by the tingling in my cheeks that I failed.

"Nick!" said Tanya. "You're all grown up now!"

So she was not still angry with me. Relieved, I cracked a smile. "Hey, now, I was a full-grown adult before, and you know damn well."

She hummed in that way women do when they're reliving sensual memories. "Hm, I guess so. Now that I think about it, you might have proved it once or twice."

Mistress put an affectionate hand on Tanya's back. "We tripped over each other after that meeting, and then I realized, she was the same Tanya you told me about!" Mistress said it without any sign of jealousy. It shouldn't have been a surprise, knowing her, but still it was a relief.

"And guess what? I get to meet you again," said Tanya, grinning at me the way you'd grin at a favorite meal.

A year ago, I would've said something stupid and plain like, 'well, here I am,' but now I was a little more sophisticated. "I'm pleasantly surprised to see you. And I'm also surprised to see you alone." I looked down at my collar indicatively.

She took it as a complement, as I'd hoped. "Hm, not yet," she said simply. "The guys where I work are just so lazy." It was a stealthy complement. Of all the complaints Tanya had ever had about me, back in the day, laziness had never been one of them.

"Want to tell him what you've done in the last fifteen years?" said Mistress. She inclined her head and beamed, eager to hear what came next.

"Hm... nah," said Tanya.

Mistress blinked. "What?"

"I'm a little more interested in hearing you explain yourself," she said to me, hands on her hips. Her smile darkened a little.

'Oh,' I thought. 'Shit,' So Tanya really was still upset. Back when she and I knew each other, we had been equals. Now she was free, and I was married and collared. Instead of Mr. Nick Jamison, I was Mr. Janet Anderson, a legally registered submissive. And Mistress Janet Anderson was not interested in scaring Tanya off. Every moment I hesitated, Tanya's vindictive smile became a little more vindictive and a little less of a smile. "I know we had differences," I began, "but splitting up was right for us both. For what it's worth, I'm glad I knew y-"

"Uh-uh," said Tanya. "I'm not looking for your sob story."

That got under my skin. It was emphatically not a sob story.

"I'm looking for your apology," said Tanya. She pointed at her boots. "Crawl to me. Take 'em off, kiss my feet and tell me you're sorry for breaking up with me."

I glanced at Mistress. She allowed other women to fondle me or even kiss me, but to give me direct orders was a privilege she almost always kept to herself. Mistress nodded me to obey.

Slowly, I prostrated myself, giving a show of tightening core muscles and strong, steady arms as I belt down. With my groin and my chin scraping the carpet, I crawled to her, undid her boots and held them as she stepped out of them. Then I cradled her calves as I unrolled her socks.

Holding her legs in my hands gave me a thrill I hadn't expected, but was familiar. Tanya's dominance had always been a forceful kind. Predatory. Now that I was touching her, and revealing her bare feet, it occurred to my body, not just my brain, that I was in the predator's power again. I had knelt up in my momentary reverie. I re-flattened myself, kissed the warm tops of her feet with soft but audible kisses, looked up at her and said, "I'm sorry, Miss Tanya, for breaking up with you." The words tasted horrible on my tongue, because I didn't mean them. Tanya was not a bad person, but breaking up with her had been the right thing.

"Hm," said Tanya, with a mean little smile. "I always liked the way you did that."

"Wanna see more?" said Mistress.

I looked at Mistress and was shocked. I knew she was serious, because she wore the kind of lopsided grin she got when sex was on her mind. She was offering my body to Tanya! A few times, she had gifted me to her bachelorette friends, but only on their birthdays, and she had usually dropped me a few hints beforehand. This came out of nowhere.

Looking down at me, Tanya gave another of her aloof little 'hm's. "Nothing there I haven't seen... but for old times' sake, why not?"

Mistress ordered me to stand, and like a man being washed down the Rio Grande, I followed my ex-girlfriend into the bedroom, where she could do anything to me she wished.

Mistress followed and closed the door behind her. Apparently, Tanya didn't mind company.

Tanya ducked into the shower, stripped and rinsed off, then came out fully clothed. "Your turn," she told me. "Go wash up, and come out nude. Then give me a turn."

It was a confusing sentence, but after a moment I realized what she meant. I went in, I stripped, I showered, and before leaving, I set the water on cold and thought meditative thoughts until my erection tamed itself. I knew she would enjoy watching it grow again.

I stepped out of the shower to see her lounging on the bedside, head craned forward, hands in her lap, absently picking her thumbnails. She cooed as she saw my nakedness, that I was in much better shape now than last time. I stood in front of her, not so close that I loomed over her, and, as she'd commanded, I gave her a turn: I turned slowly in a circle, giving her plenty of time to see my muscled ass, and to see all the eager looks I could give sideways, straight on, looking down, and peeking under my brow. The eagerness, I didn't have to fake. Whatever problems I had ever had with Tanya, she was not only a hard woman to resist, but also an easy woman to submit to, which is not the same thing.

"Nice," she said, hissing out the 'c.' She undid her workout pants and slid them off, shoving her panties away with them. I saw the slightest peek of her bush. "Now, you've been Mistress' slave for how long? Seven years? I know you're a curious guy, so come here and show me what you've learned. Give me a candle."

A candle. That was one of the many names for kissing and licking a woman's toes, then her feet and then her legs and so on before finally finishing her with oral sex. At least, that was how Mistress had taught me to give candles. There were as many versions of the candle as there were nonsensical explanations for how it got its name.

I began where I had left off, at the tops of her feet.

"You know," Tanya said to Mistress, "It's not that I'm mad at him. Really, he was my favorite boyfriend I've ever had. He was such a goody two-shoes it was just cute, and then after long enough, it gets to you, and you start liking just what an eager little puppy he is, right?"

"He is," said Mistress.

"He's just a little snooty sometimes, that's all."

To my relief, Mistress did not voice any agreement.

I planted one last, silent kiss on Tanya's foot and moved up her leg.

"I'm not really into the groveling and begging stuff," Tanya went on. "But seeing Nick do it is such a turn-on. He was always so serious about everything, so high-and-mighty, holier-than-thou, that I just love seeing him as a slave."

"Don't you like that he takes it seriously?" offered Mistress.

Bless her, she was defending me!

I ran my tongue up Tanya's calf, on the inside, then probed her upper leg with a kiss. She might not have realized it, but her voice was getting breathier, her skin warmer. I was thawing her out.

"Sure," said Tanya, "I like commitment. But a lot of the time, it felt like the only thing he was ever really committed to was himself."

Now I started to cringe. That wasn't true at all. But I kept my tongue on her skin and gave a sharp, loud kiss to hide my resentment.

"Really?" said Mistress. "I never had the problem with him. Did you pull him on dates?"

Tanya frowned. I didn't look up to see, but somehow I knew she was frowning. "No," she said. "I never told him to take me someplace to eat. That would've been smart."

"Nick's a creature of habit. Give him jobs to do, give him a routine, and he's yours for life."

"Huh. So that's why you always wanted to do the same thing, huh, Nick?" Before I could answer, she kept talking to Mistress. "See, I just never got why you'd want to make sex routine. It's sex! It's the spice of life, you know? Who wants a man who never surprises you?"

Now I had reached her sex. I petted her inner thighs, I breathed warm air onto her clit, and I trailed my tongue on her as I went in and kissed the bright, swollen lips.

Tanya looked down suddenly. She pulled an inch away, and I looked up at her to see a priceless look of shock and shyness. "You do oral?" she said.

I put on my sexiest voice. "Of course." In doing so, I somehow managed to resist the urge to say something snappy about how I never surprised her.

Tanya looked over at Mistress. "You taught him oral?"

Mistress chuckled. "And he's damn good at it too. Try him."

Tanya's hand landed gently on my head, she guided me nervously to her sex, and I started with my tongue. I started light, but it was still too much, too fast. She twitched and clamped my head between her thighs. I let her breathe for a moment, gently eased her thighs apart to free my head, and went back to breathing and petting.

She put a second hand on my head. "I can't believe you got him to do oral! That's the one thing he wouldn't do with me!"

"Well, I bet he just wasn't ready," said Mistress generously.

"But I tried so hard!" Tanya complained. "He was the same with Flo, and I didn't get it because..." She stopped herself. "No. I'll start at the beginning... we first met over study group. Calculus, I think, senior year. I liked him a lot, because all the other guys were tripping over themselves to do the girl's homework for them, because they thought then we'd want to fuck them, right?"

"Of course," said Mistress, her voice heavy with old exasperation.

"Well, Nick didn't do that. But he was smart. I actually asked him to help me with one problem, and he wasn't expecting me to, but he did it. Ohh..." I made long, slow pass over her clitoris, and she swam in pleasure for a moment. She tapped the back of my head, the universal gesture for 'go slower,' and continued her story. "So I brought him to my place one day, and I trained him to kneel face-down on command."

"That was you?" Mistress burst in. Playfully, she said, "You bitch! It took me a year to break that habit!"

It was true. Tanya had instructed me to kneel with my eyes on the ground in front of me, instead of making eye contact, which was preferred by most women, including my mistress. And since I was an airheaded teenager, and she was my first serious girlfriend, I had blithely assumed that was how all women wanted me to kneel. When Mistress said retraining me took a year, she was sugar-coating it; in reality, it took closer to eighteen months to get me in the habit of kneeling without looking down.

"So anyway... Uh!" Tanya simmered up again, ten fingers clenching the top of my head, and I held back to let her regather herself. "So anyway, I taught him to kneel, kiss me, kiss my hand... kiddie stuff, right?" By that, she meant things you could do in the school halls and not get in trouble.

"Uh-huh." Mistress followed along.

"Well, I worked up to getting his pants off. I had him masturbate for me, then finally I took him to bed and rode him, and it was great!" Her hands pulled me in a little, a sympathetic response to the pleasurable memory. But then her fingers loosened. Her pull on my head loosened, and I took the opportunity to breathe. "And then I brought in Flo. She was my girlfriend, she lived next door, we... did funky stuff sometimes. And when I brought her in, I thought Nick'd be delighted. What man doesn't want to do two women at once? But when I told him I'd promised Flo a threesome, you know what he said! He said 'no!' He said he wasn't comfortable with oral!"

"Weird."

"He was weird about the whole thing. He didn't like Flo, he really didn't like her. He got on such a high horse because Flo smoked, even though, last I checked, tobacco is totally legal!"

"That's not why," I interjected.

She looked down at me, as surprised as if her purse had just unzipped itself and yelled 'yeeha!'

I explained myself quickly. "I didn't like it because Flo had been smoking since she was sixteen, below the legal age. She said so on that one night we went to the theater. Do you remember?"

Tanya glared at me, which meant I was right.

"Nick?" said Mistress. "Let the women talk." That was her code phrase for, 'speak only if spoken to,' or, as I privately called it, 'just-let-me-vent mode.'

"She didn't say stop using your mouth," said Tanya. "Keep going."

I obeyed.

"So maybe Flo smoked a little young, but it's not like I asked him to eat her out young. She was eighteen and a half the first time. Or it would've been the first time, if he'd done it. Eventually, we decided we were just going to make out with each other and then go dip in the river. So I thought, okay, no tongue. Fine. But Nick was really bitchy with Flo. He didn't like meeting her, he didn't want to run errands for her, and eventually he asked if we could just stop seeing her. She was a little bit punk, a little bit goth, she had ear-studs, she had a bare midriff, she read trashy comic books... Nick just thought he was too good for her. Didn't like dealing with..." she put on a posh British accent. "...the lower classes."

Tanya had been off target a few times already, but this was too much. I could please my ex-girlfriend with my mouth, or I could hear her tell our life story completely wrong—I wasn't going to do both. Part of it was my fault. There was something I hadn't told her.

"...so I guess I started getting a little hard on him, and he started trying to dodge my calls. I practically had to run this guy down just to a half-decent happy-ending date. And then what does he do? He tells me if I keep making him hang out with Flo. It's over."

The story was over. The subject was about to change. If I spoke up now, I'd get a punishment, and not a small one, for disobeying Mistress with company over. But it was now or never, and I was still smarting from telling Tanya I was sorry for breaking up. It felt dirty, telling a woman a lie. If I didn't tell her the truth, I'd never forgive myself. "Miss Tanya, there's something you should know."

When she looked down, she wasn't enraged like I expected. She wasn't even put out. Just shocked. Maybe even a little impressed.

Mistress was not impressed. "I can gag him if you like."

Tanya kept staring at me. "You really mean to tell me there's more to this story?"

"I didn't want to get away from her because I thought she was trashy," I said. "I got away because I thought she was dangerous."

Tanya's eyebrows were so heavy with disbelief, they were ready to fall off. "On the bed," she said. "Kneel, not with your cock out."

I followed her commands, kneeling on my shins, my cock hidden between my closed thighs, my hands resting on the muscle of my upper leg. I tilted my head down, remembering her preference. To my surprise, Tanya put a finger under my chin and tilted me back up. She mounted me, her saliva-dripping pussy pressing onto my thighs. She looked me in the eye from two inches away. "You're saying Flo had a double life? That she was dangerous, sinister, and you were just looking out for your woman's safety, is that it? Tell me, and make it good."

"She was a shoplifter," I said quickly.

"No she wasn't."

"I was afraid we'd be arrested. Not just her, but you and me. I didn't want to be near that."

She palmed my cheeks. "Nick, she was not a shoplifter. Now open your legs." She stood up off me, allowing me to open my legs, then sat back adown astraddle my thighs. Her hands touched my cock, and I gasped into her face. A finger traced down my shaft, and her hand cradled my balls. "Are you making up shit to make your balls feel big? These balls? Because it's not working, so you might as well just tell me the truth."

"I saw proof! We went into the convenience store that night when you pegged me for the first time, remember? She told me to go flirt with the checkout lady, so I did, and after we left, she had two packs of cigarettes. She never paid for those."

"What, you watched Flo the whole time?"

"No, but-"

"You didn't go spend eighty years trying to decide whether you wanted the peanut butter cups or the licorice? Because that's what I remember you doing. Every. Goddamn. Time." On each word, she squeezed my balls for emphasis.

Mistress chortled in the background. I wanted to look to her for support, as silly as that would've been, but Tanya had me captive in front of her point-blank eyes. "They were green," I said. "Flo hated the green flavor, and she hated that they were the most expensive. Do you remember when she said that? The only reason she would take the green ones was if she planned to sell them."