My Personal Whore Ch. 09

Thank you once again to all readers who joined Yaz and I on the step of Mistress Dominique's residence in Chapter 8, waiting to enter to see what was to take place within. I hope you will remain to see what follows in Chapter 9.

For new readers, again, starting at Chapter 1 is the best but for those wishing to catch up sooner, the reprise at the beginning of Chapter 8 may prove useful.

Oh, and by the way, I hope the translations into English aren't too onerous!

---- ---- ---- ----

Mistress screaming, back arching, tensing.

Sitting on the end of the bed, the relief.

Now at rest, releasing clamps.

Untwisting, liberating.

Nipples free, white, abused.

Cupping, caressing, unfeeling.

The ultimate test to come.

Not a sound to make, no matter what.

Blood re-entering, increasing ache, accelerating.

Desperate to scream, gritting teeth.

Beyond the pale, head rocking, knees shaking.

The crescendo, open mouth, gaping, gasping.

Starting to ease, a little more, and again.

Counting to ten, twenty, thirty, forty...

Mistress, sliding off the bed, heading out of the room.

"We shall play a game!"

---- ---- ---- ----

Blindfolded once again, seated as before, alone.

Not sure what is to happen, anticipating, nervous.

Doors opening, movement of feet.

Sounds like furniture moving, dragging.

A whisper, recognising, Frankie.

Approaching, unshackling, aching all over, being led.

A few paces, backing up against wooden chair.

Being disrobed, conscious of nakedness, seated.

Wrists tied, to rear.

Her breath at my ear, a whisper.

"Pensez à quelqu'un de sexy, restez dur!"

---- ---- ---- ----

Refreshed.

Blindfolded, her hand, guiding, re-entering room.

Background music, smooth jazz, dreamy.

Memories of the Absolution, not so long ago.

Being positioned, standing.

Alone, seemingly.

---- ---- ---- ----

Listening, things are to happen.

The inner door opening and closing.

Sensing a presence, crack of leather on leather.

Mistress Dominique.

"Release their eyes!"

---- ---- ---- ----

My eyes on yours, standing in front of you.

Your chair, fixed to wooden post, thick, round.

Ten paces further, a second one.

Deducing a second seat, facing away.

Frankie not in sight.

Awaiting, knowing the task.

Mistress, to one side, nodding.

Kneeling, taking you in hand.

Lowering head, flaccid, lips embracing

An educated tongue, licking, hardening.

Preparation is everything.

---- ---- ---- ----

Billie Holliday.

'You go to my head.'

It would be, of course.

The game begins, clip-clop of stilettos.

Circulating, arriving, departing.

Seeing your rear, over shoulder.

A brief interlude, isolation, concluding.

Mistress Dominique appearing, braids swishing.

Slow gait, curving course, eyes connecting.

Breasts overflowing, soft, enormous, seeping.

Waist cinched, buckles reflecting candlelight.

Stockinged thighs, strong, firm, befitting.

Passing out of sight.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

---- ---- ---- ----

Que voit-elle en lui?

I have no idea, but he is hers.

Perhaps he is kind, good in the sack.

As the English say.

I want to find out, who knows?

Maybe with her.

---- ---- ---- ----

Stepping slowly.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

Confused, the second post, approaching.

Wide shoulders, high, the side of a thigh.

Who is it?

Turning...

Lost for words, astonished, shocked.

The big guy, the one from the jazz club.

Eyes rising and falling, a smile.

His nakedness, no embarrassment.

Taking in my body, his male gaze, blatant.

Trying not to see, failing, closing lids.

Mind's eye, an image burning, the enormity.

Everything in proportion.

---- ---- ---- ----

Reflecting, musing.

Hours ago, hearing a ring, wondering.

Hellig makaroni!

The screen, her name.

Min skitne snakkende franske dame!

Answering, struggling to breathe.

An invitation, her mistress's place, today.

Her mistress!

Effusive in acceptance, what should I bring?

A giggle.

"Peut-être quelque chose de dur!"

---- ---- ---- ----

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

You returning, black hair loose, toying with nipples.

Looking for your smile, failing.

Your face, shocked, full of concern, fear.

Turning, eyes ahead, not seeing me.

No way to speak, moving on.

The music, sudden silence, the game is on!

Heels crossing the boards, hastening.

One way traffic.

Mistress Dominique appearing, slowing, kneeling.

Her breasts, cupping, receptive, closing.

Caressing shaft, head lowering.

Braids over my thighs, up and down, up and down.

Throwing head back, almost lost.

---- ---- ---- ----

Ella and Armstrong.

'The Nearness of You.'

Almost too near, a deep breath.

On and on around the posts, speeding, easing.

Giggling, is this a game?

Again, the music is no more, heart in mouth.

It isn't now!

---- ---- ---- ----

Mistress has spoken, she must be obeyed.

No choice, at any cost, even humiliation.

Mouth dry, so unexpected.

Dropping to my knees, tiny hands on vast thighs.

Closing my eyes, lowering.

Hearing a gasp, anticipation.

Already aroused, turned on, ready.

Lips touching, extending tongue.

I cannot take it, all the way.

Hearing him purring, like a cat, getting the cream.

Ears straining for the music, feeling devilish now.

So big, thick, hard, it cannot be real, but it is.

Stretching my lips, trying not to gag.

---- ---- ---- ----

As good as it gets, so wonderful, so aroused.

Stroking her black hair, so rich, so luxurious.

A hand reaching down, cupping her breast, squeezing.

Inches in her mouth, pressing head gently,

Urging for more.

"Kom min lille, bare litt til, prøv!"

---- ---- ---- ----

His hands, on my hair, pressing.

Playing with my tits, huge hands.

Like a fantasy, breathing steady, taking it slow.

Entering, the whole shaft, mouth, throat.

It's what you want, isn't it?

Gasping, a tsunami, utterly helpless, choking.

Evidently so.

---- ---- ---- ----

Glenn Miller, taking over.

'String of Pearls.'

A few seconds relief, moving again.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

A smile to myself, wondering.

What is la jolie fille is thinking?

She is petite, culturally: he is not, at all.

Passing her own guy, looking shaken.

Cum on her cheek, her hand, wiping.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

---- ---- ---- ----

Passing you, I cannot look.

I promised, no more guys, punters, whoever.

Your personal whore.

Swallowing his cum, all of it.

Having to obey Mistress, no question.

Forgiveness, is it beyond you?

Recalling, the rules of the game.

Winning player takes the last mouthful of cum.

I shall try for yours, to make up.

And victory.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

---- ---- ---- ----

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

A familiar fragrance, its hostess appearing.

Sweeping hair from face, nearing.

Eyes connecting, passing, a whisper.

"Remplissez la bouche sale de cette garce de sperme!"

---- ---- ---- ----

Music stops, waiting, ready.

Thunder of hooves, jostling, cheating.

Expecting to be fought over, hoping.

Only seconds... groans all around.

The opening bars.

---- ---- ---- ----

Ella, it would be.

'Oh Lady Be Good.'

Written for me, and I'm sure she would.

The last man standing.

Circulating once more, slowly.

You, Mistress, then Frankie.

Passing the other guy, whoever he is.

Soft and shattered, out of it.

This circuit... Mistress... no, music going on.

Frankie, maybe...

You, arriving, walking slowly, short steps, passing.

The words, apposite.

'Won't someone please have some pity?'

Please let it be you!

Another round, surely this time.

Heart jumping, brain understanding.

Silence, clatter of heels, your knees on the boards.

Lips, opening, head lowering.

It had to be, have me little one, take me, I'm yours.

Heaven.

---- ---- ---- ----

Sitting in the back, Cairn's car, driving home.

Holding hands, a stillness in the air.

Staring out of the window, Frankie, lost in thought.

Glancing at you, a smile.

How could I do anything else?

Reciprocation, a squeeze.

More than just an item.

For ever.

---- ---- ---- ----

Epilogue.

Musing, reflecting, acknowledging.

Absolution, the jazz club.

There had only been one woman in the room.

In reality.

Driving fantasies, illicit thoughts, unachievable ends.

Her beauty, her style, her perfect smile.

How naive, how egotistical, how false.

Believing that that the woman was me.

Seeing the truth, knowing.

Seduced by ego, playing a role.

Under the spotlight, centre stage.

Centre of attention, the ovations, the cheering.

Outpourings of love, unadulterated adoration.

Yes, that was I.

A catalyst, selling tickets, creating atmosphere.

An entertainer, no more, no less.

After the lights dim, would the patrons remember?

And for how long, if at all?

Sighing, knowing the real truth, at last.

Yes, there had been only woman in the room.

Patrons walking home, arm-in-arm, fantasising in silence.

Mutual mental adultery, her image, their centrepiece.

Picturing, so clearly.

Her mouth, their hardness.

Her tongue, their pleasure.

Defeated me then, defeated me now.

Just perfection.

Yaz.