That Old, Familiar Feeling Ch. 03

Author's note:

May I present chapter three of six in this tale of an unusual, consensual relationship between an older woman and a younger man. As before, I thank everyone who read, commented and/or emailed their feedback on the first two chapters. I think hearing from readers is a huge boost for any writer. And thanks again to my friend and fellow erotic writer Karaline, who was generous with her comments and suggestions.

*****

Monica sat on the loveseat, staring out into her empty driveway. It was six-forty in the afternoon. Garnet should be arriving within the next thirty or forty minutes. And tonight, for the first time ever, he wouldn't be leaving. Tonight, her so-called Master was staying the night.

She smoothed down the scarlet silk negligee she'd chosen to wear for him. It was form-fitting and knee-length and clung to her petite figure, supported by spaghetti straps at the shoulders. She'd debated for almost half an hour whether to wear it or to go with the silk half-robe again, but in the end she was happy with her decision. After all, her Master had seen the half-robe the last two days and she figured he'd like a change.

She sighed and worried the hem of the negligee with her fingers. Somehow, she'd survived another long, awful day alone in the house without him. It was even worse considering his visit the previous night had been a short one - he'd worked a double shift and was too tired to do much other than measure her vitals and drive back to his place. In the last two days she'd spent only an hour or so with him, and that wasn't nearly long enough. In the two days since he'd committed to increasing her arousal to raise her Daemon energy, he'd barely touched her. She desperately hoped tonight would be different.

She glanced up at the wall clock to find only a couple of minutes had passed. She shifted restlessly in her seat, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. Why was time passing so slowly? Why couldn't he hurry up and be here?

It hadn't always been this way. After her husband Bill had died, she'd found the routines and habits of her shut-in lifestyle comforting. But not anymore. Garnet filled her house with a palpable vitality and warmth. When he was there, the atmosphere was alive with his energy. Without him, the place felt like a tomb - lifeless, numbing and melancholy. Having basked in his company, his absence was an almost unbearable torment.

But tonight he was staying! That thought alone had carried her through her lonely, endless day. Monica wondered briefly if all Familiars longed for their Masters when they were apart. The bond between them was a powerful one, no question. She would do anything to keep it that way.

*

She met him at the door and he entered with a suitcase and a bag of groceries. The heat in his eyes was obvious as he took in her provocative attire, and she let him get a good eyeful. She set the groceries on the kitchen counter and showed him to the guest room. She'd changed the sheets again that afternoon, even though they didn't need it. Everything had to be perfect for his first night there.

She'd made him macaroni and cheese for dinner - he'd mentioned the previous night it was one of his favourites. He wolfed it down, pausing frequently to compliment her on the dinner and to thank her for all the trouble she went to. He was such a well-mannered person.

After dinner she sent him upstairs to shower and put away his clothes while she did the dishes. Already her heart was beating faster at the prospect of whatever he had in store for that evening. She knew she'd love it, anything at all. The sounds of him moving around upstairs, the running of the shower, opening and closing drawers - it all felt so right, somehow. He was making himself at home in her house. Their house.

She was standing in front of the couch in the living room when he came downstairs in gray track pants and a baggy cotton shirt. His hair was damp and he smelled freshly-washed. He looked like he belonged there.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" she asked, smoothing down her negligee.

He cleared his throat. "I'd like to do your measurements and then maybe start what we discussed a few nights ago. You know...about your arousal and the Daemonic energy?" His faint blush conveyed his inexperience in matters of female arousal - or maybe females in general. Monica figured there weren't a lot of women around when he was being raised and home-schooled by grandfather.

"Did you have an idea about that? How you wanted to proceed?"

"Well...you said you'd trust my instincts, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"So I figured we'll go slow and try to come up with an effective methodology. How about that?"

She had to suppress a giggle. Only her Master would describe the act of arousing a woman as a 'methodology'. That was something she liked about him - he was authentic about his pursuit of knowledge. It made it easy to trust his motives.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Just communicate well. And, uh, be patient with me if I'm not really good at it to begin with."

She nodded, then held out her wrist, eager to get started.

He took her pulse, then measured her breathing. As he carefully recorded the results in his notes, she lay on her side on the couch and wriggled the bottom of the negligee up so it was bunched around her hips. She pulled her knees up toward her chest as he knelt behind her. His warm hand on her bum sent a tingle through her and she sighed happily. It was hard to believe she'd been so uncomfortable with this just a few days ago.

The cool, smooth glass of the thermometer slid painlessly into her bottom and she squeezed her thighs together as she felt a twinge from her sex. The feel of his hand on her private flesh kicked her arousal into overdrive. She'd been good and refrained from touching herself, just like Garnet said. She hoped he'd free her from that restriction soon!

"Did you experience any unusual thoughts or feelings today? Anything you want to tell me, no matter how small?" He left his hand on her buttock as her temperature was being taken.

"I missed you. When you're away I feel empty."

"You mentioned that last night too. Was it worse today?"

"Yes, much worse. It felt really uncomfortable."

"I don't want that. What would make it better?"

She hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to burden him or cause any problems. He was doing so much already, working long hours at his job and performing his Knightly duties in addition. She gave a long exhale.

"It's okay. It's probably just something I have to get used to."

He was quiet for a moment. "What if we set up a routine for you to follow during the day that will give you lots to do? If you're busy, maybe you'll feel more productive and comfortable. Time goes by faster when you're busy, too."

"What kind of routine?"

"We can come up with activities to engage your body, mind and spirit. Maybe make it a little challenging, so you'll have to focus. Give you a real feeling of accomplishment when you finish. What do you think?"

She found herself nodding. "I think if you set out some things you wanted me to do every day, that would help. It would feel like you were part of my day if I were doing the things you wanted."

"Okay. I'll put down some thoughts before bed and leave them with you in the morning."

"Thank you. That's really kind. I appreciate it."

He was so attentive, so careful with her feelings and emotions. That made it easy to put herself into his hands, confident that he'd do the right thing for both of them.

Soon the thermometer was removed and the results recorded and the two of them sat close together on the couch. Garnet has his notebook and Monica was curious to see how he'd approach the subject of her arousal. He started with a healthy blush.

"You've probably guessed that I don't know a lot about creating or measuring arousal - there's nothing in the journals that even comes close to what we're doing here," he said.

"But that's good, right? We're breaking new ground."

He smiled. "I know, and that's exciting! But it also means it's going to be trial-and-error, especially at first. I've got some ideas, and some of them probably won't work out. I need you to be honest about your thoughts and feelings, and patient with me if I go the wrong way sometimes."

"Sounds like a plan." She liked sitting close to him. The heat of his body warmed her through the thin silk of her negligee. It was a comforting, intimate sensation.

"Let's establish a scale for your level of arousal. One means no arousal at all, and ten means...well, you know."

"Climax," she said.

"Yeah. Having the scale will help determine if we're moving in the right direction or not."

"Makes sense."

He expression grew serious and he met her eyes. "If something doesn't feel right, just say so. I'll stop right away."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," she said. She couldn't imagine him doing anything she wouldn't enjoy, or learn to enjoy. He was gentle and his company was a delight.

He took up his pencil. "What's your level of arousal right now, just to get a baseline?"

She closed her eyes and turned her attention inward. "Five."

"Five already? That sounds high."

"I feel it more when you're near me - you have that effect. Taking my temperature helped too." She couldn't help a blush of her own, but he'd told her to be honest about her thoughts and feelings so she felt compelled to share even the most embarrassing ones.

"Really? I thought you hated that."

"Not anymore."

He wrote in his notebook, and the idea that her new-found enjoyment of rectal thermometers was being recorded for posterity turned her a darker shade of red. Just one of the sacrifices a Familiar had to make in the name of research.

"Okay, five. If the measurement changes, please let me know what the new number is as soon as it happens so we get a real-time picture of what's happening. Good?"

"Good."

"Please stand in front of me," he said. She pushed herself off the couch and stood facing him where he sat.

He looked her up and down slowly and deliberately, and she could feel the intangible caress of his gaze on her bare legs and thighs, over her silk-sheathed sex and hips, up to her small breasts and erect nipples that pressed eagerly against the nightie. She felt naked under his hungry eyes. A shiver crept up her spine and she closed her eyes, savouring the feeling. Her breath came faster.

"Six," she said.

"You like me looking at you this way?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

She paused to collect her thoughts. "I can see in your eyes that you're interested in my body. That arouses me more."

"You look really pretty in that nightie. Sexy," he said.

"I hoped it would please you."

"It does. Very much." He looked down and scrawled a few notes. Somehow, this didn't kill the mood - she enjoyed having him hang on her every word, treasure her every thought like it was rare and beautiful.

He looked up at her again. "What would you like to happen next?"

All sorts of ideas crowded in and it took a few moments for her to start to make sense of them. One feeling rose above the rest.

"I'd...like you to choose. Tell me what you want me to do."

"Why do you want me to choose?"

"You're the Master. The expert. You should lead."

There was a quiet pause. "Anything I want?"

Her heart sped up. She nodded.

His eyes didn't leave hers. "I want to see you naked, Monica."

She gasped as his uncharacteristically bold words sent a hot wave rolling through her. She realized she'd been waiting to hear him say it.

"Seven." It came out as a whisper.

He didn't respond, just held her captive in his intense, dark eyes. She reached down and grabbed the hem of her nightie and slowly peeled it up and over her head. The brush of cool air on her newly-exposed skin made it clear what she was revealing to him. She tossed the nightie onto the couch next to Garnet, then stood with her hands at her sides. Naked for him again. As it should be. She waited for what would come next.

His gaze wandered up her body again, drinking her in. She started to tremble. Her sex was soaking wet, throbbing in time with her rapid heartbeat. She could scent herself faintly in the still air, and that meant he could too.

She looked down and saw the bulge in his track pants, as though his erection was straining to break free of its confines. She wanted it; wanted to smell it and taste it. She wanted - she needed - to feed, and soon. But for now she could only wait.

"Do you like being naked for me?" he asked. His voice was low and lusty. His blush was gone.

She nodded.

"Why?"

It was harder to pull together a coherent response. Her body was her focus now, not her brain. "I like how your eyes...and body...look when you see me like this."

"Would you like to be naked for me more often?"

She nodded.

"All the time?" he asked.

She closed her eyes. Imagined greeting him at the door this way. Cooking for him. Being close to him while she was naked. Touching him, and feeling his hands on her bare skin. Feeling his eyes on her wherever she went. Feeding his lust.

"Yes," she breathed. "Eight."

He didn't move. His pencil and notebook sat beside him on the couch, seemingly forgotten.

"Do you want me to...touch you?" he asked.

She was panting now. She nodded.

"Where?"

She imagined all the areas where his warm hands would feel like heaven. It was hard to form words.

"Anywhere."

He exhaled forcefully, and it was only then she realized he was breathing faster, too. He'd stopped taking notes, and was staring at her with undisguised hunger.

"Where, Monica?"

The seconds ticked by in silence, until the one vestige of modesty that remained within her crumbled and she became his, finally and completely. She moved first one foot and then the other, widening her stance, opening herself.

"My..." she started, but lust closed off her throat. She swallowed and tried again. "Between my legs." After another ragged, shuddering breath, she added "Nine, Master."

He lowered his eyes, staring at her sex. She spread wider, her legs acting on their own.

He leaned forward. The cushion shifted. His pencil rolled off the notebook on the couch and clattered on the hardwood floor. The noise reached him, and dissipated some of the lusty fog in his eyes.

"You're at a nine?"

She closed her eyes and nodded. So close. A quick rub, perhaps the merest touch to her hyper-sensitve, swollen clitoris was all it would take. She was overheating and sweaty, her body vibrating. Her sex felt heavy and ached with need. How had he made her this way without even a touch? She had never been this way.

"We...we need to let it build. To test...to test your theory," he said in a strained voice. "We said a few weeks. To see if it builds your energy."

Her eyes opened wide. "Wait..."

He inhaled deeply and let it out slow. "That was crazy. I had no idea it would be like that. So powerful."

His erection was still tenting his track pants, his breathing still fast, but his eyes were lucid again. How had he reined himself in while she was still galloping out of control? He was the one with the youthful, surging hormones!

The urge to reach down and touch herself, to masturbate to an orgasm, was almost irresistible. She was right there, teetering on the precipice. A moment or two was all it would take. He had to allow it..

"Could I...please?" she asked, her voice almost hoarse.

He looked into her eyes and shook his head. "We want to test your theory, right? Let's allow it to build, instead of releasing it."

Let it build? She felt she would explode if it built any higher. It would take just a couple of seconds to bring herself relief...

...but he was the Master. He'd told her to let it build, and not to release her energy. The Familiar shouldn't go against his wishes. Maybe she wasn't a Daemon, but she'd taken an oath. Plus, if she became argumentative it would dampen his enthusiasm for the research. His enthusiasm for her. She didn't want that.

She moaned, but nodded, then looked down at the bulging in his pants again. Maybe she couldn't get the release she desperately wanted, but surely she could still get something. She'd been so good, so patient. He wouldn't deny her this too...

"May I feed?" she said, her tone pleading and hopeful. She didn't want it to sound like begging but she was SO hungry.

Plus, it was his duty, wasn't it? He'd sworn an oath to 'nourish' her. He'd offered her 'access to his personal energies'. That was part of the Pact, he'd said. She could strengthen her Daemonic energy by feeding on his personal energy.

He might have been reading her thoughts because he nodded. "You can always feed - it's what we agreed under the Pact."

The words were barely out of his mouth before she was on her knees, tugging down the waistband of the track pants and his black briefs. She paused briefly to inhale his incredible, sweet scent, then took his shaft in her hand and took him in her mouth. The angle wasn't ideal - her forehead was butting his abdomen - but she bobbed her head frantically on his erection, her breath coming in groans and grunts as she tried to consume as much of her Master as she could.

His own arousal was high and he didn't last long in her ravenous mouth, releasing his come onto her tongue with a low cry. Even after just a few days, the taste was familiar and welcome. She continued her frenzied feeding until Master gently guided her head away from his intoxicating cock.

The two of them stayed where they were, panting for breath, Garnet panting and splayed on the couch, Monica naked and kneeling on the floor, gasping and resting her sweaty forehead on his thigh.

The lust between her legs hadn't backed off even a little. It would be a long, restless night.

But he would be staying.

*

She lay in bed for hours, exhausted, frustrated, and terribly aroused.

Her need for release threatened to consume her. He'd told her to let it build, but he couldn't have understood how demanding her unsatisfied lust would be. Her kind, attentive Master would never have chosen to put her through torment like this if he'd realized what it would do to her.

He was testing HER theory, of course, so in some ways it was her fault she'd ended up in this position. She'd been the one to suggest a link between arousal and Daemonic energy. In hindsight, she'd almost forced his hand - how could he NOT test a theory that seemed so plausible?

But this...this was unbearable. She needed relief. Now. It couldn't wait. She'd apologize and explain it to him in the morning. He'd understand, and probably even be grateful that he'd learned something new about his precious Daemon Familiar.

She slid her hand down over her belly, fingertips brushing her wiry pubic hair, seeking her swollen clit. A few moments is all it would take, although she had half a mind to take it slow - coax herself into a climax for the ages.

Her hand stopped an inch from its destination as resistance to the idea welled up in her. But resistance from where? Her over-heated body wanted it. Her tired, restless mind wanted it. Still, from somewhere deep inside her a stubborn defiance thwarted her efforts to touch herself.

Was it her own sense of fair play? A sense of honour that held her to her oath to submit to his guidance? Or was it the Pact itself? By taking the oath, was she now mystically bound by its terms and obligations?

Nonsense! The Pact wasn't real. And even if it had been real, she wasn't a Daemon! Despite how certain Garnet was, and how perfectly she fit the profile...and how her feelings and emotions had shifted in the five days since the oath...and how being near her Master filled her with an almost giddy joy...

Was she a Daemon?