If She was Honest

"Oh Sir," she moaned. "Oh Sir, I'm cumming. You're so good to me." I felt her legs begin to quiver, felt her juices flow more. Precious ground her hips into my face, lowly moaned that sounded like an animal's growl.

Her legs stiffened, her breaths shortened. "Oh God, oh God Sir," she whispered out and releasing my hair. Precious came in a chaos of swearing, calling for God, and thanking me.

I let her be still for a moment. I looked up at her. With closed eyes, she was smiling contently. I had been too easy to her. It was time for my satisfaction. I backed off the bed. I walked to the head of the bed and grabbed her head.

"Suck me," I commanded. She complied silently. Precious took my cock in her hand before placing it into her mouth. She lovingly, tenderly licked the head. She slid her tongue down the shaft before running back up. She looked into my eyes and winked. Precious put my cock in her mouth, the tip first, and started to suck it in.

She has an experienced mouth, years of satisfying me orally. She took half the length down her throat in one swallow. She backed it out before taking the full length. Once, twice, three times she followed this action. Precious wanted me to fuck her throat.

I grabbed her hair. "Get on your back," I demanded. She gave my cock head one last kiss before slipping into the middle of the bed. Instinctively, she spread her legs wide, holding them open.

"I'm ready Sir," she cooed. I joined her, my cock hard, hot and ready. I slid easily inside of her wet pussy, bottoming out. "Oh," she breathed out. I withdrew before pushing forward again. She closed her eyes and smiled.

Once, twice I pumped slowly, softly. She didn't meet my action. I thrust hard and she smiled. Hard and roughly, I fucked her. She pushed her hips against my pelvis.

Twice more I fucked her hard. Twice more she met me. The room began to fill with the aroma of sex. Her sweat and mine mixed. I could smell lust and passion marry.

"Who does Precious serve?" I asked.

"Only you Sir," she answered. "Sir's cock is getting hot."

I fucked her faster, driving my cock hard and deep. She stopped thrusting her hips, accepting my hardness more. She pulled her legs up, moved her ass forward. She knew what was coming.

I knew my orgasm was soon. I shifted up and placed my hands on her hips. I quickened the pace and warned her. "I'm cumming Precious."

"I want it Sir." She told me to fill her with my love, give her all I had. Twice more I pumped before my orgasm exploded. I didn't fall on top of her.

She drained all my juice from me, her hips rapidly gyrating. She wanted another orgasm. As I've always done, allowed her to do so. I held myself up, hovering over her, while she brought herself to orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck Sir." Precious let her legs loose. She stopped grinding. Her legs began to quiver. "Sir, oh Sir," she breathed out. The muscles in her body began to tense. Her breathing began to shorten, coming in rapid burst.

"Oh Sir," she screamed. Her legs went straight out, the muscles tightened. She flung her head back. Her arms went straight like her legs. "Oh God Sir," she whispered breathlessly.

She collapsed on the bed. She was asleep.

I shook my head and dismounted the bed. I walked to the bathroom and grabbed a towel and a washcloth from the linen closet. I turned on the water in the shower.

"Thank you for letting me rest. I need it." Elise sat on the edge of the bed as I redressed for work. I grabbed a new t-shirt and dress shirt.

"I know you did," I said. I finished dressing, my tie being the last item. I turned to her and asked if I looked presentable. She smiled.

"All these years with me and you still need me to make sure you're dressed right." She stood and fixed the knot, straightened it. I leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"We'll talk about Katherine when I get home," I told her as I walked out of the bedroom.

I returned to the office, my belly full, my batteries recharged. "What did your research find?" I asked Jayashree when I walked in. She was back at her desk, feverously working on her laptop.

"Sylvia Allerton's not an innocent housewife," she answered. She gave me a devilish smile, looking at the clock on the wall. I took a two-hour lunch. "I suspect there'll be a short story coming from this afternoon's play," she whispered, not believing I could hear her.

"How not-so-innocent is she?" I asked, looking over the top of my glasses, showing that I heard her. She demurred, knowing that she shouldn't have commented.

"Well, for starters, she's older than Mr. Allerton. She's even older than he thinks." I moved to get a better view and she whirled the mouse and pulled up a newspaper's site. She used a well-manicured fingernail to underscore where for me to look.

"Interesting," I mumbled.

"I know. Email me that site address."

"Sure thing, boss," my best assistant said, clicking away.

"Kurt will find this most interesting." I left the front area and walked to my office.

"Remy, I have something else. I'll send that link to you as well."

"Thanks," I said, closing the door behind me. She was thorough, if nothing. She, also, enjoyed her job, became excited when tasked to research a client or, like in this case, a client's spouse. My laptop turned on and the email up, I found the two links she sent.

To say I was shocked is an understatement. The first link sent me to a newspaper in Massachusetts, to the daily from June 14, 1974. The front page showed a grainy picture of two young women escorted by local law enforcement. The caption under named the two and gave their ages. Sylvia Nestor, 16, was one. Sylvia Nestor was the maiden name of our client's wife. Being sixteen, she would have been born in 1958 or 1957, if her birthday hadn't arrived.

"That would make her ten years older than what Kurt told us," I mumbled to no one. I printed off the picture and caption for our client's records. I clicked on the second link and was more surprised.

It was a society page from 1976, showing a beautiful 18-year-old in the arms of a much more mature man, some 25 years her senior according to the short article announcing their engagement. I looked through my notes for any mention from Kurt of previous Sylvia engagements or marriages: None existed. I printed off this article as well.

This was becoming interesting.

I informed the team of what we were going to do, assigned operative to tasks, and gathered my notes to talk with Kurt. There was information that he needed to know, and it couldn't wait. I called him and set up a meeting at my favorite café for the morning.

"Why not do it now?" Jayashree asked when I ended the call.

"There's probably going to be more." I changed my mind, not taking the initial surveillance of Sylvia. I assigned that task to my most senior operative, Christine Hayes. Christine had been in the profession since the age 21, when she joined another agency in Florida right out of Florida State University. Hired more for her looks - her freckles, red hair porcelain skin made her look younger than 18 -- than for her education -- criminal justice -- Christine even now looked much younger than her 43 years. She had patience, a great deal of it, making her the one person I could count on to sit and observe for hours.

"Christine will get something tonight, I have a feeling," I mention to my assistant as I walked back to my private office.

Jayashree nodded. "If something's there to be found, she's the one to get it." A devilish grin came to her face before she returned to her desk and back to researching.

"What does this all mean?" my client asked. I called and told him to meet me at the café before he headed to work. I had important information for him, and it couldn't wait until lunch.

"For starters, it means that's Sylvia's older than she's told you, by ten years."

"I don't mind that, most women will lie about their age." He tried to make light of the situation, but failed. His long exhale gave away his true emotion.

"I have more evidence." I clicked on my tablet's photo app, pulled up a few, tame pictures taken the previous night, and showed Allerton. He was speechless for a long moment.

"I know this house. I've been there quite a few times." He looked distressed, running a hand through his hair. "Why would she go there?"

I thought for a moment. I had an answer for him, an answer he'd not want to hear. I debated with myself last night when Christine sent her report and initial photographs. The pictures showed Mrs. Allerton arriving at 8 PM at the home, her body in a full-leather trench coat and wearing six-inch heels.

My client was starting at a picture of his wife wearing the leather, standing on the front porch, waiting for someone to answer the door. He just stared blankly, trying to make some sense of what he was seeing.

"Whose home is it?" I knew the answer through some Jayashree research, but I was trying to get him to come out of his stare.

"A former boss, Rebekah Holman," he answered softly, shaking his head. "Why would she go there?"

I had an answer to that, had photographic evidence, but in his state, it would not have been good to say. "My operative didn't get inside, so I can't tell you," I lied. I knew what she was doing in there: Christine gained entry through an opened backdoor and took pictures of Sylvia, along with Ms. Holman and two other women. I decided not to show or tell him what else my operative gathered.

He looked up at me, the edges of his eyes turning red. His complexion was pale. He looked like he was going to throw up. He appeared like a man whose worst fears had come true.

"I wish I had better news," I whispered across the small table. "You hired me to collect information on your wife."

"I know." He exhaled deeply, defeated. "I had wished for better results, but when you found this stuff so quickly, I knew it wasn't going to be good."

"Do you want us to continue following her?" I took back my tablet and paper evidence.

"Yes," he answered quickly. He looked at me with eyes no longer defeated, but with a purpose. "Find out as much about this bitch you can."

"He wants us to find more evidence," I told an interested Jayashree. I found her in front of two laptops, both on separate search engines. She was still looking for as much public information on Sylvia as possible.

"Christine found some information on the other two women in the pictures from last night." She clicked on the word processing icon and pulled up a report. "Want me to send it to you?" she asked, though she knew the answer. I nodded.

"Christine downloaded more pictures," she added. They're quite a bit more salacious than what she sent last night." An evil grin came to her face. I knew this meant Sylvia was in more trouble.

I asked if they were something that I'd look forward to seeing. Jayashree nodded.

"I liked them."

I thanked her and walked into my private office. I turned on the laptop and began to read the report. "Interesting," I mumbled.

Christine's report was more thorough than I had anticipated for having just a few hours to research. The host's name was Beatrice Stevens, the 54-year-old president at Sylvia's job. She's divorced, has been for 20 years. I didn't see her in any pictures, but I'm sure she'd appear in the newest ones. Christine's research found that she had hired Sylvia ten years ago, hired her from a prestigious law firm, gave her a better benefits package and doubled her salary. She wondered what qualifications Sylvia had that warranted such a deal.

My operative identified the mature brown-haired woman in the pictures was Beatrice Magee, a 50-year-old coworker who, too, was hired ten years earlier. Ms. Magee had worked at a technology company, one that hired programmers for the state and private companies. Christine again wondered over her hiring.

The youngest, the blonde-haired woman, was Margret Simmons. Christine found that the 23-year-old had no immediate connection to any of the other women last night, but noted that she'd spend more time researching this woman later.

I sat back for a second to digest what I found. Four women spent time the previous night together, each barefoot and naked. In the initial pictures, Mrs. Allerton appeared to be the dominant, wearing a strap-on and having all three other women on their knees. She had Miss Simmons sucking on the black dildo, one that appeared to be eight inches in length. Sylvia also had Ms. Stevens licking her well round ass.

I couldn't show Kurt these pictures. From my experiences, it would not have been pretty. I clicked on the second file Jayashree had forwarded. It opened and displayed 30 thumbnail pictures. Even at the small size, I could tell they were naughty. I stood and closed the door: I wanted no interruptions.

I clicked on a thumbnail and watched as a full-sized picture appeared. I was surprised, not at the scene of Sylvia plowing the young Miss Simons, but that my operative could get so close undetected. I flipped through the first page of thumbs, each one more explicit than the previous.

I've seen much in my years of investigating, even more in my years of being a Dominant. Pictures don't affect me as they might most men, having seen most of it all, but these were. My penis began to stir at the sight of the mature woman using the younger, plunging the plastic phallic object deep within her vagina. From the expression on her face, Miss Simmons was enjoying it.

I undid my belt as the pictures changed. Christine had a page of Ms. Stevens and Ms. Magee entwined on the parlor carpets, fingers and tongues exploring holes. I pulled down the zipper and slipped down my pants and boxer briefs. My cock was hard and excited. I reached down and softly touched it as my gaze came across a particularly hot scene: The two older women engaged in the 69 position.

I was about to look at another picture when there was a soft knock on the door. I looked up and saw Jayashree enter. She smiled and wordlessly removed her skirt. She closed the door and walked out of her garment.

"I knew you would need me, Sir," she whispered as she approached me. She removed her blouse and let it fall to the floor. She stood before me and reached around her back. She unsnapped her bra. She leaned forward and let it fall on my lap.

I grinned as she began to kneel, a hand replacing mine on my cock. "Sir may I?" she asked. I knew what she wanted to do. I nodded. She pushed back her long, straight black hair and leaned into my lap. She moaned when her hot lips touched my engorged penis head. I threw my head back: Her talented mouth always excited me.

"I'm glad the Princess could help," Jayashree said as she sat clothed on the couch, a bottle of water on her hand.

"Thank you," I said, returning to the laptop. I didn't need to see any more pictures. I closed the album and pulled up the email. I needed to see Christine when she came into the office in an hour, to discuss what else she had seen last night.

"How did you know I needed your mouth?" I asked. She was drinking and the question caught her off-guard. She spit and spilled some water.

"How long have I known you?" She looked at me with her big, brown eyes and I knew I should have known the answer.

"Good thing you didn't spit or spill earlier," I quipped.

"Or Princess would have been punished." Jayashree demurred but still managed a grin.

The laptop pinged: I had an email. I opened it, Christine would be in sooner, and she found more information on Sylvia Allerton.

"Christine's coming in soon," I told my assistant. "She has more info."

"Oh, I can't wait for this," she said. She stood and walked to the door. She locked it. "Need anything more, Mr. Charron?" she asked in her best secretary voice. I stifled a laugh and shook my head.

"Then I'll be at my desk," she pouted. "If you need me, I'll be just a call away." She wiggled her ass as she walked out. She didn't close the door, another sign she was not pleased with me.

I stood and walked to close the door. I had much to do before my operative Christine arrived; I didn't need to be disturbed. Jayashree turned to me and tried to show that she was still upset with me. She did a terrible job. She smiled.

"Send Christine in right away when she comes." I closed the door.

Jayashree assembled a folder of printouts and documents she and Christine has spent two days finding on the internet. She had reports she typed from my operative's notes. She also had hard copies of six rather tame photos of Sylvia Allerton actions. I put it in my backpack and headed out the office to meet with Kurt.

"Mr. Valentine Charron," Sylvia Allerton said as she nearly ran into me. "I need to speak to you." The woman over 50 was showing her age this morning. With her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and wearing no makeup, I clearly saw panic in her face.

"Yes," I calmly said. I pushed past her and tried to get to the elevator. I had a meeting with her husband in twenty minutes and wanted to present the evidence.

"Could we talk?" She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. I turned around and saw a woman that looked defeated.

"Walk with me," I said curtly. She wordlessly joined my side as the elevator doors opened. She began to speak but I silenced her with a hand.

"Why couldn't you just be honest with him? Why did you deceive him, run around with other women?" She began to sob, but I didn't let it deter me. "He thought the world of you, and how did you repay his love? With this fucking bullshit."

"Could I please explain," she pleaded. I shook my head at hear.

I pulled my pack to the front and opened it. I reached down and grabbed the folder. "Here, this is what we know about you." I handed her a copy of what we've gathered. She inhaled and covered her mouth.

"Is there anything I can do to stop you?"

"No, it's too late." The elevator stopped and the doors opened at the parking garage. "You should have thought about it ten years ago." I left her crying there and headed to my car. I didn't look back as I went to meet Kurt.

I presented the folder to him, told him of what my operative and secretary had found on the internet. He sat silently as I told him that his wife was a lesbian dominatrix. He didn't move or show emotion as I spelled out that her employment was merely a front of her true job.

"You're telling me that she gets paid to inflict pain to older women?" he finally asked after an almost intolerable silent moment.

"In plain English, that's what she's been doing."

"I don't understand why she lied about her age, though."

"Sometimes when just do," I answered.

"Why did she marry me? It makes me wonder if she really loved me."

I didn't have an answer for him on that, but I do believe she did at one point. "I can't say," I answered as a cop-out.

Kurt Allerton said quietly, staring blankly at the documentation. I was going to suggest that we go see a divorce lawyer when he finally spoke. "Thank you, Remy. I have a lot to mull. I do know something. I'm seeing a lawyer."

We stood, shook hands, and I left. I went to my car and pulled out my cell. I saw I had messages from Jayashree and Christine, along with a voice mail from Elise. The texts asked me how the meeting went. I returned that it went as expected. I added to Christine that she'll more than likely receive a bonus for her hard work on this.

"Princess, go home and be presentable to me when I arrive," I sent to Jayashree. "Sir has need of his Princess."

I listened to Elise's message. She was going to be late because the computers at her job crashed. I shook my head and thanked God I left that world. "Take your time," I texted. "I'll send something for you to eat for dinner," I added. I made a quick call to the Italian place near her job and placed an order. I had them put it on my tab, one that I had started when I worked close to them.