My Michelle Ch. 07

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A talk in the hot tub and the Halloween costume contest.
5.9k words
4.73
21.4k
14

Part 7 of the 7 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 10/21/2007
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Azrael556
Azrael556
71 Followers

Friday morning, around seven in the morning. We'd gotten in a little late from our shoe-shopping run to Memphis. It had not been a quick walk-in, walk out deal. I should have known. It had involved stops at Fredericks, Victoria's Secret, Christie's, and dinner at the Olive Garden before we drove the hour back home with not one but four pairs of shoes, more stockings, a new bright red bra and panty set from Fredericks, a few new toys, and so on. At this rate I needed to start hitting the casinos again. I was hemorrhaging money on her from the "gray cash" (shady but explainable) stash, and didn't want to tap the "black cash" (what I'd taken from Joe after his, uh, "disappearance").

The only good news was that all those errands could all be accomplished in the immediate area of the mall, with a stop at the grocery store for a pumpkin on the way home. This meant we had to get to bed quickly if we were going to have our usual amount of fooling around, and that had been hard. We'd gotten our jack-o'-lantern carved and out on the porch with a couple 12-hour green chemlights in it. But then Michelle had then felt compelled to try on the new red heels with the white thigh-highs for tomorrow night (assuming the SCA sewing expert didn't have the jacket at noon), and yeah, use your imagination. Suffice it to say I was not in a hurry to get out of bed. My alarm clock wasn't even set to go for another fifteen minutes.

I didn't have a choice about getting out of bed today. Michelle had her usual Marketing Admin at 9 and I had German Lit at ten before we could hit the gym and could be done for the day. Standard M-W-F schedule. After years of slogging through retakes of math classes, German was the only thing still keeping me in school so I could finish up the two years' foreign language requirement. I just did history things like Special Topics to stay in practice. Michelle was already out of bed, and I heard a loud "Oh, god-DAMN!" from the bathroom next door.

"You OK, dear?" I yelled.

"Yeah, but come here and look at this, please?"

Ugh. I don't wanna get out of fuckin' bed. I'm hurting and I'm tired. Courage, Dave, courage. A little pain in the knee, back is aching, but a nice hot shower...fuck it, I'm going to go sit in the hot tub for a while.

I got up, and stumbled up the hall to the bathroom. Since I was as much a housesitter as a tenant, what was now "our" bedroom was not the master bedroom of this four bedroom house. The General's bedroom was at the end of the upstairs hall, with the master bath off of it. I only went in there to run a vacuum cleaner now and then and wipe the dust off the horizontal surfaces.

The hall bathroom door was cracked open, and I leaned in there. Michelle was on the porcelain throne, reading one of the stack of old Penthouses I had kept in there for those occasions when I hadn't carried in a book.

She turned it toward me. "Oh my God, what do I have to do to get a pair of those boots?"

They were over the knee in height, black leather, chromed stiletto heels, half a dozen buckle straps up the back of each calf, and were very heavily accessorized with chains and chrome studs. Perfect 1980-early 90's rock video vixen wear. All of us of a certain age remember the style. The little index of such things in my head started spinning as I recalled the blonde bent over the red motorcycle. "Huh, that's Melissa Wolf under one pseudonym or another, looks like an Earl Miller picture..."

"Uh, don't know, don't care. I can tell she's not a real blonde and that's it. But the piece of my girly brain that likes sexy shoes is fuckin' overloaded. Look at those things!"

"Honey, they have so much metal on them they probably weigh five pounds each."

She started laughing. "Yeah, like I am going to WALK anywhere in those things. The hardest part if they're that heavy is pointing the heels at the ceiling like a good slut is supposed to. Who the hell are we kidding?"

I had to laugh at her cheerful honesty. "All right, I get the point, we can research it and find you a pair like them. Meanwhile, are you almost done or do I have to go in the other bathroom to piss?"

She looked a little abashed. "Um, I'm still working on it. Would you mind turning the fan on on your way out, Master?" I laughed again, blew her a kiss, and quickly retreated to borrow the master bathroom.

While relieving the pressure on my bladder, I thought about it, backwards-planning the morning the way airborne and air assault operations are scheduled. It was the same thing three days a week, but it never hurts to recheck the plan. Michelle to class at nine, thirty minutes to get there on average, leave here at 0830, fifteen minutes to get dressed and cleaned up, oh, cool, leaves me at least thirty minutes in the tub for a nice hot soak even if I was still making breakfast. Hell yes, it was a compensation for being awake early. I flushed and headed for the deck. Fuck clothes. I just made sure I had my old dive watch with me. I didn't have a clock out there.

I flipped the cover back and settled carefully out of the chilly air into the steaming water. Keeping the thing running all the time was a contributor to the electric bill, but I really didn't care. One, I considered it a medical necessity at times. Two, I could generally afford it. I closed my eyes and sat back.

No more than five minutes later, I heard the patio door slide back and forth, and Michelle joined me. I felt the disturbance in the water as she stepped down into the tub. I opened my eyes, appreciated her nudity for a moment, and then we quietly looked out across the foggy lawn in the early morning light. She looked over at me with a smile. "You know what I think is funny in that pile of porn magazines?"

"What's that?"

"The yellow Post-It notes marking your favorite pages."

I shrugged. "Had to find the good parts again somehow."

"Yeah, but you know what I like? The number of bookmarks that were for big-chested brunettes, like Stacy and Gina and so on. It's a turn-on for me to know I was your type before I myself was your type, like before we met."

"While you're quite attractively packaged for consumption, Miss Marketing Major, it's your dirty mind that is your most appealing point to me."

She mock-pouted. "See, it's not as much fun for me to know that a skinny blonde with B-cups could turn you on as much if she was also a masochistic little nympho slut. I think I'll go with my original theory, that you looked at Stacy or whoever and thought of me."

"Stacy Moran was the Pet of the Month four years before we met, and in that issue she was dyed blonde. And Gina Lamarca has been dyed red for most of her career. I don't think that was her natural color though. The carpet doesn't quite match the drapes."

"I swear, I ought to have a serious accident with my teeth the next time I'm blowing you. It would totally be worth the punishment afterward. You're just infuriating."

"If punishment is its own reward, I ought to not do it then."

She slid over to my side of the tub and cuddled up next to me. "I'd just have to tease you so much that you couldn't stand to keep your hands off me. Hurt me, pleasure me, whatever. Just use me. Forever and ever, just keep me safe and use me. For both of our sakes."

"Oh, no. If you're getting punished, you're getting punished. I'll just think of something horrible to do to you. Tight bondage and teasing with absolutely no chance at getting off might be a good start."

She closed her eyes and shuddered a little bit. "Really tight, blindfolded, gagged? Fuuuucccck. I know I'm not supposed to like that idea, but I'm wet already and it's not just the tub. One of those gags with the big leather harness to it? Fucking hot."

I held her closer to me. "You know, next year after graduation when we actually both have to work all day, it's going to be a lot less fun."

"Ick, don't remind me. It's not going to be fun at all."

"It could be worse. Besides, there are lots of ways I can remind you at work that I haven't forgotten about you. You can always wear your plug to work. Phone sex on your breaks. Then of course there's lingerie selection. No one could tell you had your leather corset on under your work clothes-"

"I look so fucking hot in it too. You definitely need to lace me up in that again really soon. I really love leather, which is something else I didn't realize about myself before we hooked up."

"Depending where your office is in Dallas, we can sneak out to a nice hotel for a nooner now and then, or you could come home for a long lunch-"

"More like a cheap motel. That way we can afford to do it more often, and you can treat me like a sleazy hooker. But coming home is really hot too. You can pick out my play clothes for the afternoon, and I have to wear them to work under my clothes. Stockings, garter belts, maybe my pretty leather bra, no panties. Nobody will know but you and me. One of those tight leather body harnesses, the ones with all the straps and the chrome that doesn't cover anything? Fuck, it makes me wetter thinking about it. Nobody will know what I'm dressed like underneath. Only you. I'll come home and get used like a fucking slut. Or in a motel at lunch, me stripping and you making me scream like a twenty-dollar whore. You'll know what I need-"

I was getting hard thinking about it. Michelle got distracted from trying to touch herself by that, and her hands slid down her body, under the water, and over my hardening cock.

"Oh, I talked dirty and turned Master on. You love it when I talk dirty. You love it when I admit how much I love being the slut you want to fuck, a toy for you to use. Oh, fuck, this is what I've always needed."

"And just think, I never knew who you were underneath. Just the sort of beautiful bombshell sex doll I always wanted.

Well, well, well, you never can tell

Well, well, well, my Michelle..."

I didn't have Axl Rose's vocal range, but she giggled anyway.

"Now I'm clean, and so discreet, so don't say a word. But most of all, my ass is yours, in case you hadn't heard...."

I laughed hard at that. "I thought you were a Grateful Dead fan."

"The Grateful Dead suck. Every pothead in college pretends to like the Dead because it's mandatory for potheads to pretend to like the Dead and have at least one poster up like a gang sign. Besides, show me anyone white in our age group who hasn't owned at least one copy of Appetite for Destruction. It was a law or something."

"Good point."

"Speaking of good points, look how hard my nipples are." She swung into my lap, straddling me and pushing those big beautiful tits up in my face. She then began grinding herself down on me. I grabbed her hair from behind and pulled her head back with my left hand as I caught her left nipple in my right, squeezing and twisting it hard. Her gasp of pain/pleasure was music to my ears.

"Obviously my pet is feeling enthusiastic this morning, isn't she?"

Her eyes were closed and her breathing rapid. "Yes, Master."

"And she's being very pushy because she'd like to get fucked before class, wouldn't she?" Like I was fooling either of us with my very hard cock pinned between us. I wanted to fuck her too. Hell, having a woman like her at my beck and call was probably affecting me the way the coke used to affect her. But still, one has to at least TRY to stick to the formalities of the game sometime.

"Your slutty pet always wants to get fucked, Master," she practically purred. "She is never really happy unless she's doing something sexy to make her Master happy. Turning you on turns me on, and you always take such good care of me..."

I shifted my hips just a little and slid into her. She was as hot and wet as the tub. "And you know you turn me on, and you use it against me..."

"As long as it makes you happy, I don't see the harm...a little initiative from your subordinates is a good thing in leadership and management, right?" To punctuate her words, she began to slowly ride my cock, clamping down on me as she did.

"Just so long as you don't forget who's in charge."

"I wouldn't be happy in charge. Well, when we get around to sharing a girl, I want to be in charge of her, but you'll always be in charge of me. Even when I'm on top and riding your cock, it's for your pleasure, it's your devoted slavegirl serving her Master." I pushed upward a little harder at the thought.

"Mmmm, yes, that's it, let me talk dirty to you. Master, tell you how good your big fucking cock feels pounding into me. I love riding it, I just want more of it. I like being used, I want you to blow a nice load of cum before we have to go to class. I want my pussy nice and sore so I can remember the good fucking you gave me, and look forward to the next one. It gets me through the day, when I have to pretend I'm something other than a piece of ass, a little junkie slut who has to be kept under control..."

Michelle was a bottomless well of verbal filth, and I admit, I never got tired of it. She was slamming up and down on me, her pussy a perfect fit. One hand steadied her against my shoulder, and the other furiously rubbed her clit. She fucked like my own personal porn star, and I loved her for it. In no time at all, she'd cranked a great orgasm out of me and seconds after screamed one of her own.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me fiercely. "Did I do a good job, Master?"

I had that happy drugged feeling every guy knows. "You did an awesome job, beautiful. Now we still have to eat something and get to class, so we have to go."

She looked over at my watch, eyes widening a bit, and bounced out of the tub. I was able to get one good teasing spank on her ass as she exited. She grinned at me as I climbed out. "Promises, promises, Master."

"Oh, it is a promise, but I just have to delay the delivery a bit."

We got dressed and got through the ride to class on schedule. Michelle had to hit the library after class, so we just agreed to meet at the Student Union after I got out of German and catch lunch there.

German dragged, as always, but I got over to the Union with what was left of my sanity intact.

Walking in past the bulletin board, there was a missing persons' poster with Joe's face on it. Apparently after the first week someone had figured out that Joe was gone. I'd left his wallet in Memphis (men's room, Mall of Memphis), but I suppose no one ever found it and turned it in. Shame I didn't know anything about where he was, so far as anyone was ever going to be able to tell. I always could use the five thousand in reward money.

I headed past the big stairway toward the lunch tables, and spotted Michelle. She'd waited to get a tray until I got there. I sat down across from her, and she looked distracted. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, ran into Joan."

Ouch. I had been avoiding her, so had Michelle. We'd only made a couple trips back over there to get some of her stuff and we did it when we knew Joan was busy teaching freshman physics labs. We'd been keeping the Lexus in town, sometimes swapping my Cavalier for it for the Memphis runs. It was a much faster and more comfortable ride, after all.

"So, what happened?"

"Well, we were in public, so she didn't start swinging, but it started with 'So what's up with you and Dave' and it went down from there. She started using words like "cheating, slut, whore, trash" and so on. And really, I don't fuckin' appreciate being called a slut unless it's you and you're pulling my hair. I denied everything, of course, like we agreed, and I got out of there as quick as I could, but she scares the shit out of me sometimes."

"Wow. OK, well, this could be a potential problem, but we don't have to worry about it before Monday. You'll be gone with me all weekend."

And out of the corner of my eye, with a green jacket on a hangar under dry-cleaning plastic, came the local SCA sewing genius. I don't remember her "mundane" name, but she was Antoinette de Montfort at the time. Plan A for tomorrow night was back on.

I looked over at Michelle, who was peering at the jacket through the plastic. "Honey, do you want to get lunch or shall we get out of here?"

"Uh, I'm going to be shaking my ass in front of three hundred horny strangers tomorrow. I don't want to eat anything more filling than air, and I'll probably go do some extra at the gym today. Gawd, days like this I really regret having quit smoking." I looked at her sideways and arched an eyebrow. "I mean cigarettes, not weed. Every now and then a Marlboro is good for appetite suppression and the nerves."

Three hours later, we were leaving the gym and hoping we'd just have enough energy for a decent afternoon fuck. Instead, when we got home we just lazed in the hot tub until about two before we got out of the tub and began packing.

Out in the garage, I went to the pile of my stuff in the corner that I didn't waste space in my room on. I opened up the plastic fishing tackle box holding my assorted uniform odds and ends from my Army days. While ribbons did not come easily in the pre-9/11 peacetime Army, I had a few. A couple had memories attached, like the Army Commendation Medal with V (for valor) for one rough day in western Iraq, and the US, Saudi, and Kuwaiti "I was there" ribbons that were all awarded for Desert Shield/Desert Storm. There were also a couple trash ones loose in the box. I decided to use those. I took a three-ribbon holder, which was a simple brass strip with clasps on the back to attach it to the jacket, and slid on a rainbow-colored Army Service Ribbon (known as the "Gay Pride" or "Fag Tag" ribbon since it both looks like the gay pride flag and is awarded for the shocking achievement of actually finishing basic training), a red and yellow National Defense Service ribbon (the same, only in wartime), and a spare red, white, green, and black Kuwaiti Liberation ribbon. Though I'd probably never wear the uniform again, this meant I didn't have to split up any of my intact ribbon mounts. My combat and service badges all stayed in the box. I pinned the one row of ribbons over the left pocket of Michelle's jacket and zipped the garment bag closed. I put it in the car, not thinking about what else was in that box.

I went upstairs to where Michelle was packing her other play clothes for the trip. There was her leather corset with the garter straps, the matching G-string, a leather garter belt, leather bra ("I'll make up my mind at the last minute"), the stockings, her tall laceup PVC stripper boots, her zip-up leather stripper boots, spare stockings, her four-inch stilettos for "just in case", some bondage toys and vibrators for that night in the hotel, and other related fun things. I watched her fuss over the assemblage with some amusement. The fact she was working naked except for a red satin thong and matching spike heels made it even funnier.

"You know, normally only women in porn films just randomly dress like that around the house."

She looked up with an evil grin. "But I like being your personal porn star. I therefore have standards to maintain. Pussy perfectly trimmed and never sweaty or smelly, hair never too fucked up, and so on. Have you noticed me sitting around in a bathrobe watching "Seinfeld" with my hair all fucked up since I moved in?"

"A very valid point. You know, we could bounce out of here tonight, spend a second night in the hotel, and maybe spend some quality time in Memphis tomorrow shopping for engagement rings."

She looked up and smiled. "Mmmm, but I'd want to play really rough in the hotel and it might leave marks for tomorrow night."

"Bring your long gloves and it'll keep the cuffs from chafing, and I'll try not to mark up your ass too badly."

"Would it be weird of me to say a quiet night at home appeals a bit more? We can do the ring shopping sometime when we're not totally on deadline. We can blow off class a day and go hit those little expensive boutique shops that are only open a couple hours a day."

Azrael556
Azrael556
71 Followers
12