Ms. Bitch is Mistress Susan Ch. 02

Maybe she didn't wear anything at all to bed. Maybe she slept in the nude. The thought of her naked and in bed caused his cock to pulsate in his pants and, holding her box of work one handed, he put his other hand down for fear that she may see that he was getting sexually excited. Bad enough to have an erection caused from his boss, it would be even worse for him to have an erection without receiving the expressed permission to have an erection from his Mistress, even his perceived Mistress, first.

Still wondering what she wore to bed, maybe she wore leather to bed and kept her whip beneath her pillow just in case. As soon as he thought of her wearing leather to bed, his cock pitched a permanent tent in his pants in the way it used to do when he was a teenager. As an 18-year-old senior in high school, suddenly, he remembered Miss Crabtree having him bend over her desk to paddle his naughty ass. Knowing he'd get a spanking whenever he was bad in her class, he was always purposely bad in her class and he always picked a spanking over detention. He remembered the loud noise the paddle made against his firm butt. He remembered how after the third whack his ass became warm before it turned red with the fifth sixth whacks. Always, no more and no less, as if she was keeping silent count, she gave him ten whacks.

He suspected she enjoyed paddling his ass as much as he enjoyed her paddling his ass. In the way he wished she would too, he suspected that she wished she'd pull his pants and underwear down to paddle his naked ass. He remembered masturbating over the sexually erotic thoughts of exposing his cock to her. He wondered what his teacher would do if she saw his erection. Would she stare at his cock? Would she reach out and touch it? Or would she fall to her knees and suck it? Now that he's older, imagining visiting her at her home, he would have loved to have pulled up her pleated skirt, pulled down her panties, and paddled his teacher's ass. Yet, not wanting his boss to see his erection, he covered the big bulge in his pants with the box of work that he was delivering to her.

Allowing his horny mind to run away with the sexual thoughts that he had for his boss now, he was entwined with the sexual thought that he had for Mistress Susan. Maybe beneath that innocuous white, terrycloth bathrobe was her Dominatrix uniform, her preferred outfit of choice he imagined. Maybe she was wearing a fitted corset that pushed up and pushed out her already huge, double D breasts. Perhaps the tight corset was the reason why the impressions of her big nipples were so apparent and nearly transparent, if the terrycloth wasn't so thick.

Maybe her tits were right there, mere millimeters away from his horny hands and hungry mouth. Maybe she was wearing sheer, black panties just like the panties he saw her wearing on her website. If she was wearing those transparent panties, he'd love to lick her and finger her shaved pussy through her panties. With her knees draped over his shoulders and her long legs resting against his back, he'd love to please her by making her cum.

"Hi Glenn," she purred as if she was a cat on the prowl and as soon as he opened and invited him inside her front door. "Come in."

Interrupting him from one sexual fantasy to give him another, she's so uniquely different at home than she is at work. If he didn't know better, he wouldn't believe that she was the same person. Never has she greeted him with a smile. Never has she greeted him with a purring hello before. He imagined her holding his big cock in her hand while purring in his ear before falling to her knees and taking him in her mouth.

"Hi Susan," he said having to catch himself from saying, hi Mistress Susan.

He wished he could touch her and feel her to know that he wasn't dreaming this verbal exchange. He wished he could hold her. He wished her could kiss her. He wished he could touch his Mistress where he was never allowed to feel his Mistress without her expressed permission first. He craved that control while begging for that permission but he had to consciously remind himself that this wasn't his Mistress but his boss. Even if she was Mistress Susan, especially if she was Mistress Susan, he'd never touch her without her telling him to touch her. Yet, he so wanted to kiss her while feeling her big tits and fingering her erect nipples through her terrycloth bathrobe.

"Come in," she said walking away from him to go to the kitchen.

He stared at her wiggling ass as she walked away. Then, as if awakened from a sexual dream, it was when she walked away from him that he heard her heels clicking on the Travertine tiles. He looked down and instead of wearing fuzzy slippers, she was wearing knee high boots. Boots, she was wearing boots. He couldn't believe she was wearing boots with a bathrobe. Controlling the urge to fall to his knees, as soon as he saw her boots he wanted to kiss them and to lick them. As soon as he saw her boots he wanted her to walk on him and spread her legs to pee on him.

Why was she wearing boots at home instead of relaxing in slippers? Such an odd combination, boots with a bathrobe, that unique contrast sexually excited him by making him wonder what else she was hiding beneath her plush bathrobe. He so wanted to undo her bathrobe tie a and remove her bathrobe from her exquisite body but he didn't dare. Extrapolating his erotic thought process, along with wondering what she was hiding under her bathrobe, he wondered what she was hiding in her cellar. Maybe she was Mistress Susan. Maybe she had a dungeon. Maybe she invited him here not to bring her work but to bind him, beat him, punish him, and discipline him while controlling him.

"Thank you," he said closing the front door behind him.

"I just made some coffee. Would you care for a cup or are you a tea man," she said turning to look at him and giving him a sexy smile.

Having never smiled at him before, she's never given him a sexy smile. Now, she was looking at him in a way that he imagined her looking at him when she was disciplining him, punishing him, controlling him, spanking him, and whipping him. With her hair and makeup done, being that she was wearing boots with her bathrobe, maybe she was going somewhere after he dropped off her work and left and hadn't finished dressing yet. Maybe she was fully dressed beneath her bathrobe and didn't want him to know that she wasn't really sick but was just playing hooky from work. Maybe in the way that he always wore sneakers with jeans, she always wore boots with her bathrobe.

Being that she was his boss and he was her employee, being that he was a paid subordinate, it was none of his business what she did or where she went after he left her. Obviously, unlike him, she had a life that wasn't controlled by discipline and punishment. Suddenly he was jealous with the thought that maybe she was meeting someone else, a man who wanted her to control him in the way that he wished she'd control him. Whether as a sub, a sexual slave, a friend, a lover, or just an employee, or all of the above, he'd love to be her man. Never having sexual thoughts about his boss before, that is, before he discovered Mistress Susan's website and his boss' resemblance to Mistress Susan, he was having sexual thoughts about her now.

Only, unlike the sexual thoughts that other men had where they'd just make a pass at a woman and/or just take a woman, he needed her permission to make a pass. He needed her to make the first move. He needed her to make a pass at him. He needed her to assume the dominant role and not him. He needed her permission before he could do anything.

"I'd love a cup of coffee. Thank you," he said giving her his best smile.

"How do you take your coffee?"

She looked at him and smiled again. He loved her smile. She looked so much more beautiful when she smiled. As if taunting him and daring him to accuse her of being Mistress Susan, she put out two mugs on her granite, kitchen counter in front of him. She looked at him while watching for his reaction when seeing the coffee mugs.

When he looked down at the coffee cups, his mouth fell open. He stared at the coffee cups before staring back up at her. Then, looking down at the coffee cups to make sure that he wasn't imagining things, one coffee cup was black with the word Domme on it in bold, white letters and the other coffee cup was a yellow with the word sub on it in small, black, italic letters. If the coffee mugs weren't telling enough and proof enough that she was, indeed, Mistress Susan, he didn't know what other proof he needed that his boss Susan was the woman of the website he's been frequenting.

"Just black," he said not knowing what else to say when he wanted to say so much.

Making constant contact with her magical blue eyes while excited that he was correct in guessing that she, indeed, was Mistress Susan, he looked at her stunned. Sexually excited that his blonde, bombshell of a shapely boss was his sexual fantasy come true, he was glad that his search for his perfect Dominatrix had come to a happy end.

When she leaned to pour his coffee, hoping the top of her bathrobe would fall open enough for him to see, he looked to see what she was wearing beneath her bathrobe. Hoping for a down bathrobe view, she had robe too tightly tied to give him a peek inside. Unable to get a down bathrobe look of her body for further proof that she was Mistress Susan, he looked up at her big, beautiful, blue eyes again. Mesmerized and as if hypnotized by her eyes, he couldn't help but stare at her while watching her pour his coffee.

"When you finish your coffee Glenn," she said moving out from behind the kitchen counter to untie and remove her bathrobe in the way of an artist dropping a shroud from a masterpiece, "I'd like to show you my dungeon."

To be continued...