The Mistress Pt. 07

I mean, it's not like John didn't know it was a dream. You always know when it's a dream, or at least you're supposed to, anyway. If you don't know, that means you are crazy, and as best John could tell, he wasn't crazy, and this was a dream.

But this dream sure felt different somehow. For one thing, he was very conscious that it was a dream, very aware that the young woman on top of him, sliding her unbelievably wet and tight little pussy up and down his engorged cocks wasn't really there.

So he knew that her dark eyes staring down at him without expression weren't really there. He knew that if he reached up and touched her breasts, tight on her chest with dangerously pointed dark brown nipples, that he wasn't really going to be touching her. He knew that if he reached up and caressed her black hair that it wasn't going to be a real human being he was touching.

No matter how real it felt.

She continued to rock her slender and angular hips up and down on him, grabbing at him and pulling, making him gasp with pleasure, her expression unchanging, unblinking.

He also knew that cumming inside this young woman would be a bad idea.

And he knew that he was going to do it anyway. After all, he'd came the other times when he'd had this dream, hadn't he?

He grabbed his sheets with his fist even tighter. He clenched his teeth, bit his lip.

She continued to look down at him with almost no expression, maybe a slightly quizzical look in her eyes from time to time- but that was all.

He, though, definitely had expressions on his face. His jaw was open, slack, he was gasping with pleasure as she rode her pussy up and down on him.

Why are you doing this, Wei, he wanted to ask. But he couldn't. No talking in this dream.

Instead he closed his eyes- can you close your eyes in a dream? Can you close your eyes in a dream, and imagine that the woman fucking you in your dream is another woman fucking you in your dream? Is that even possible?

John didn't know. But he tried. In his dream, he closed his eyes away from Wei, and thought of Lynda, who he really wanted to be the person fucking him, grabbing his rock hard cock with a tight and drenched pussy, sliding herself up and down him strongly and powerfully, making him gasp, making him cum...

In his dream, he opened his eyes as he began to squirt uncontrollably, grabbing at his wet sheets, moaning and cumming. But it wasn't Lynda up there in his dream, it was still Wei.

In the real world, he woke up to his alarm. Monday morning.

His belly and sheets were covered with his ejaculate, cooling now, congealing now.

Considering he had the same dream Saturday morning, and then Sunday morning after that, he was surprised at how much he had squirted all over his bedding.

He hit the alarm and began to wad up his sheets and blanket. Again. Being a bachelor, it's not like he had a lot of bedding.

What the fuck, he was thinking as he started his washing machine.

***

The interns shuffled in, one by one. They looked wide eyed, haunted, exhausted. They were almost all late. It was clear that none of them had the slightest idea how to process what they had been seeing out there on the streets the night before.

So Lynda decided to call a meeting of them.

She was in the kitchenette next to the conference room making a second pot of coffee, but she could still hear them in the other room.

"I can't believe how much was burned down last night," Zoe was saying. "That beauty supply store. The Walgreens. Shit! There was stuff burned down right down the street from Maxon here and this is like, a nice part of the City."

"I've never been anywhere where there were riots before," Morgan replied. She took a cup of coffee from Lynda. "Thanks. Last night was bad... all I could hear was sirens screaming up and down my block. All around me. I couldn't sleep at all."

Morgan looked around.

"Where's Wei?"

"She was the first one here, as usual," Lynda shrugged. "She'll be around."

"I can't believe that the cops just shot that kid," Zoe babbled. "I mean, I was hearing on the news that this kid was no angel or anything, I guess he'd been in some kind of trouble with the law before. Probably drugs or something. Still, for the cop to just shoot the kid like that, in the back, when the kid had his hands up -"

"Why don't you say his name," Brandon said quietly.

"What?"

"He had a name, Zoe. His name was Shawn. Try saying that for a while. Something like, that cop shot Shawn when Shawn had his hands up."

"What difference does it make?"

Brandon shrugged.

"Probably nothing. It's just that... us black men, we have names, you know? Names, and mothers. Hopes for the future... shit, hopes for the fucking day. All that shit. We might not be 'angels', right? But we at least have names."

Morgan laid a hand on Brandon's forearm.

"Come on, Brandon," she said quietly. "You know she doesn't mean it like that."

Zoe was nodding.

Brandon sighed.

Lynda put her hand on his other forearm and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Thanks for having a little meeting with me, everyone," Lynda told her interns. "I know this is crazy. I've never seen anything like it. I thought that maybe things were getting... better, maybe? I don't know. But I sure didn't see this coming."

"What the fuck was that cop thinking?" Morgan wondered. "Did they think that video wasn't going to be released showing that the kid-Shawn, sorry, Brandon- didn't have a weapon and wasn't attacking anyone? I'm talking about the cop that did all the shooting- not the black one- but that white one- "

"Rex Sanders," Zoe said quietly. "The officer's name is Rex Sanders."

She looked at Brandon.

"I guess I know his name, right? Sorry, Brandon."

Brandon forced a smile on his face for his friend.

"That's OK, baby girl," he said. He reached out and patted her hand. "I know you aren't one of them."

"Anyway," Lynda interjected. "Does anyone need to go home for the day? I'll record your hours towards your internship. I don't think I'm going to be able to get any work done myself, and fucking Excel- excuse me, but Excel can do without any of us for today, anyway. Also, Maxon is bringing in a dedicated grief counselor for employees to be able to talk to, and while I don't know that interns can use that service, I don't see why not and I'll certainly- "

The door opened, and Wei came into the meeting room, bobbing a tea bag up and down in a hot cup of water.

"Lynda, can we please get some green loose-leaf tea around here?" she asked. "This black tea bag is only something Americans use. Chinese don't like this kind of tea. We like green tea. Can we please get some?"

Everyone at the table looked at her silently. Wei bobbed her tea bag up and down.

"OK, Wei," Lynda said quietly. "I can get you some green tea."

"That gunpowder green tea is very good," Wei said, dropping her tea bag into the waste bucket and sitting down.

"Now," she said. "How is everyone doing? What are we meeting about?"

***

Less than an hour later much of Maxon had cleared out. Most of the staff had taken the day off to tend to their families, schools had closed due to the protests, parents wanted to be home with their children. No one was focused enough on work anyway, what with the smoke from the night before still in everyone's nostrils, and there was going to be more fires tonight.

All of the interns had cleared out. No surprise there.

Lynda was finishing the last of her emails and was going to head home to her husband. There was a light knock on her door.

"Come in," she said curtly, trying to type the last message of the day.

She looked up to see Frank standing there. Her eyes narrowed.

"Hello, Franklin," she said, the scorn undisguised in her voice. "Close the fucking door."

He did.

"What do you want?"

Frank coughed awkwardly into his hand. He mumbled something Lynda couldn't make out.

"What do you want?"

"I did it," he said quietly, almost a whisper.

"Did what?"

"I licked pussy. I licked pussy and I made her cum."

Lynda smiled cruelly and leaned back in her chair.

"Must have made your wife very happy, Franklin. Maybe she won't divorce you after all."

He looked at his shoes.

"Franklin? Look at me. Look at me. What aren't you telling me?"

He struggled to meet her eyes.

"Ah," she whispered. "I get it. You didn't lick your wife's pussy, did you, Franklin? You licked somebody else's. Whose?"

He shook his head.

"Whose pussy, Franklin? You better tell me. If you don't, I'll make you fucking regret it."

"Morgan's," he mumbled, looking down again. Almost inaudible.

"Who?"

"Morgan."

"Morgan who?"

He shook his head. He didn't know her last name.

"She works here," he muttered. He pointed towards the back offices.

"Morgan?" Lynda said, her voice raising. "You mean my fucking intern, Franklin? You licked my fucking intern's pussy?"

He flinched as if from a threatened blow.

"Wait. Have you been fucking her? You piece of shit. Have you been fucking my intern?"

He nodded.

"How long, you fucking piece of shit?"

"Month. Maybe a little longer. Maybe two... three."

Lynda leaned back in her chair, put her hand behind her head. The timetable fit, she thought. That's about when Morgan started to change, started to turn inward, becoming inconsistent and moody.

"You piece of shit," Lynda seethed. "You God damn low-down cunt. What did you promise her?"

"I told her I'd get her a job here at Maxon," he muttered. "I told her I could get her six figures."

Lynda laughed.

"You fucking asshole. You can't do that. You can't give someone six figures. You are in charge of cyber security, not hiring, you dumb fuck. But I guess she believed you, huh?"

He nodded.

"Look at me," she hissed.

He did.

"Tomorrow, we are going to Jack Wang's office, and you are going to tell him what you did, and you are going to resign. Do you understand me? You are going to right in and tell the CEO what a piece of shit you are, just like you told me. You fucking asshole."

Frank winced.

"Please," he whispered.

"Fuck your 'please', you piece of shit. You have no idea what it's like. No idea. Women like me have spent our whole lives working with assholes like you. Little dick assholes running around, chasing us around like dogs, making us miserable, making us hate our jobs and ourselves, making us have to choose between a job we hate and providing for our families. You piece of shit. I guess you chased one of us down, didn't you, you fucking dog? You chased one down."

Frank mumbled something.

"Shut up. I was supposed to have protected her, Frank! But I guess I didn't. I guess I let you get to her. She's never even gotten a paycheck, you asshole! And she's already going to be scarred for life by your predations. She never even got one fucking penny."

"I love her- "

"Oh, fuck you. Tomorrow. I may not have protected her, but I have control over you, don't I, Franklin? I don't quite understand it, but I have complete control over you. And I am going to use it to ruin you once and for all for what you did to that girl. Tomorrow. I'll come get you and drag you into the CEO's office. Get out."

He looked at her with teary eyes.

"Get the fuck out."

He closed the door behind himself and lurched towards the stairs.

Lynda turned towards her emails, fuming. She couldn't wait to watch him be escorted out by security.

There was another knock on the door.

If this motherfucker is back to beg, she thought, opening the door.

It was Wei.

"Oh," Lynda said. "I thought you had gone home with the other interns."

"I forgot to give you something," Wei said, handing Lynda a bottle.

Lynda looked at it, not understanding.

"It's wine. Mr. Claire? Your friend? He came by with it on Friday. You weren't in, so I said I would give it to you. He said thank you for the rubber tree."

"Oh."

"He said it cost seventy dollars."

Lynda looked up at Wei from the bottle.

"What?"

Wei shrugged.

"That's what he told me."

***

The cab pulled up to the curb, and sat there for a moment, idling outside of a comfortably sized and stylish suburban brick house, nestled deep among oaks, and maples, and redbuds.

The cab driver turned around expectantly.

"I'm not going to be paying you today," the woman told him.

"Absolutely," he said, nodding like an idiot. "It was my pleasure."

"Shut up," she said, getting out of the cab. She didn't look back even briefly as he drove off.

She knocked on the door.

"Oh!" Lynda said, pulling the oak door open. "Wei! What are you doing here? I didn't... didn't expect you?"

"May I come in please?"

Lynda stepped out of the way, waving Wei inside.

"Is this about work? Is everything all right? Wei, are you OK?"

Wei's expression was cool.

"May I have a glass of that wine, please?"

Lynda blinked.

"The wine?"

"Yes... the seventy-dollar wine that your friend John Claire gave you? I want to know what seventy-dollar wine tastes like."

"Uh... sure. Yeah, sure. Have a seat on the couch, I'll go get you a glass."

"Thank you."

Wei took a seat on the couch. It was sleek, white, with gold decoration twisting around it. Like an old woman's couch or something. Not at all what she had expected to see.

The rest of the living room was neat, orderly. Magazines stacked on a spinet piano that also looked like it came from the 1960's, low and light, like Scandinavian furniture.

Lynda padded across the white carpet and handed Wei the glass of wine, deep ruby red. Wei smelled the wine, taking in the aroma. Cherry. Chocolate. She had read somewhere that you were supposed to do that.

She took a sip.

"Very good," Wei said. "Huh. I guess you really do get what you pay for."

"Wei, what is this all about? I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with you coming to my house, Wei."

"What do you know about John Claire, Lynda?" Wei ignored the question, looking at the other woman evenly.

"I... I mean, I don't know him well," Lynda stammered. "Just at work and-"

"Is he fucking you?"

"Wei!"

Wei sighed, and took another sip.

"Just answer the question, please, Lynda."

"No!" Lynda was indignant. "We are just friends."

"Huh," Wei said. "I wonder if he even knows what he's capable of. I wonder if he has any idea that he could make you get down on the ground and fuck your little pussy whenever he wanted you to, that he could just tell you to get down and get your ass up in the air for him to use at the snap of his fingers. Maybe he really is a dumb as he seems."

"Wei, I'm married-"

"Yes, that's right. Where is your husband now?"

"He's downstairs. He has a gym down there. He's working out."

"What were you talking to Frank about at work today?"

"What?"

"Frank. I walked in and you had been talking to him."

"He's a monster- he's been having sex with one of the other interns."

"Morgan."

Lynda's eyes opened wide.

"You knew about that?"

Wei just shrugged.

"Shit, Wei. You should have told me. It's wrong. It's unethical."

"It is what it is," Wei replied. "A person like Morgan? Someone's dick is going to be inside her at any given time. She's prey. She can run but they'll always get her, until she makes some idiot marry her, and maybe even then."

Lynda shook her head, looking down at her intern. Who was this person?

"Wei, what's happened to you? You aren't like this."

Wei just shrugged, drank some more wine. She looked bored.

"Anyway," Lynda went on, "I told Frank tomorrow I was going to make him confess to Jack Wang and resign."

"No," Wei said.

"What do you mean?"

"I need that idiot right where he is, and you are going to keep him right where he is, controlling him and humiliating him so he can't think of anything other than you and wanting your degradations. Nothing changes."

"Wei-" Lynda protested.

Wei waved her hand, cutting the other woman off.

"Nothing changes. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... Mistress."

Wei's eyes narrowed.

"That's better," she said. "Fill up my glass."

Lynda went to the kitchen to fetch the bottle.

"You still have a little fight in you," Wei commented absentmindedly as Lynda poured wine into the glass. "Not much, but a little. I wonder when you will stop. Most people have stopped by now."

Lynda didn't know what to say.

"Take off my shoes," Wei commanded.

Lynda dropped down to the carpet and began unlacing Wei's running shoes.

Wei shook her head and reached down to pull Lynda's face up to meet hers.

"What do you say when I give you an order?"

"Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry. I say, yes, Mistress."

"God damn right you do, bitch. Now, get my fucking shoes off."

"Yes, Mistress."

Lynda got to work.

"And my socks."

Lynda complied.

"Rub my feet," Wei ordered. "Kiss them. Show me your obedience."

Lynda did as she was told, rubbing her hands the length of the dominant woman's feet, groveling there, putting her lips to the tops of Wei's feet, kissing. Running her tongue down the length of Wei's arches, pulling a toe into her mouth, sucking on it.

Lynda lost herself in service to the other woman. She grew warm, and content as she served, as if her body was reassuring her that the rightful place was at Wei's feet. Lynda's nipples, grew erect under her blouse, her breath became fast and quick, her pussy wettened as she served at the feet of her Mistress.

"That's a good girl," Wei told the older woman, finishing the last sip of her wine and putting the glass on the table. "You fight me a little bit still, but that all goes right out the window once you start sucking on my feet and your pussy gets drenched, doesn't it?"

Lynda moaned, nodding in agreement, pulling Wei's big toe in and out of her mouth.

"You love serving my body," Wei went on. "And why wouldn't you? I've got some big tits for a Chinese girl, don't I, Lynda?"

Lynda continued sucking, saying nothing.

Wei grabbed Lynda by the hair, pulling her up roughly.

"Don't I?"

"Please, Wei," Lynda begged. "I don't like to be like that."

Wei slapped Lynda across the face, still holding her by a fistful of hair.

"Say it," she hissed.

"You have big tits," Lynda stammered, her cheek red from the slap. "You have big tits for a Chinese girl. I'm sorry. You have big tits for a Chinese girl, Mistress. I'm sorry."

Wei let her go.

"Come suck on them," she whispered.

Lynda did as she was ordered, pulling one of Wei's breasts from her shirt, lowering her mouth to the hard, brown nipple there. Lynda's blonde hair spilled all over Wei's chest as Lynda pulled on first one nipple, then the other, sliding them in and out of her tight lips, feeling the nipples lengthen, harden.

Wei stroked Lynda's hair absentmindedly as she sucked.

"Good girl. Get down and lick my pussy."

"Yes, Mistress," Lynda whispered, dropping down to her knees, sliding off Wei's running shorts and underwear.

Wei spread her legs wide, slowly, almost contemptuously.

Lynda wasted no time, applying her lips to Wei's inner thighs, kissing her way to the dark, wet hole of the woman who controlled her. Lynda kissed Wei, kissing past the trim hair there, sliding her tongue in, teasing the wetness up to the surface.

"Good girl," Wei whispered, spreading her legs wider. We looked down at the older woman, loved seeing the blonde hair tickling her thighs as Lynda licked up and down Wei's engorged clitoris.

The words of praise and control made Lynda's pussy throb, she wondered if her Mistress would permit her to cum when the Mistress did. She wondered if it would be appropriate to beg, wondered if the Mistress would want that. Wondered if the Mistress would want her to humiliate herself and grovel. Lynda realized she would do all that and more as she sucked on the clitoris of the woman who controlled her.