Under Madam's Bottom Pt. 02

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A young man learns how to serve a dominant older woman.
3.6k words
4.21
61.9k
29

Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 08/30/2018
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Henry Carter was a thin, pale-faced man in his early fifties: about five feet six inches tall, with cropped grey hair and a pencil moustache. From the start, it was easy to see who ruled the roost in the Carter household. That said, in all my time there, however badly Mrs Carter treated her husband (and she did so on a daily basis), her genuine affection for him - and his acceptance of a subservient role - was never in doubt.

I met the poor man on my first evening. I'd returned, as I've already remarked, within three hours of first seeing the room. I won't pretend I wasn't nervous. My brief time with Emily Carter had felt much like putting my head inside a hungry lioness's mouth and waiting for the worst. But I couldn't help myself. I was anxious - but excited, too. I'd never been with a woman before - other than in my imagination - and I definitely wanted to be with her.

All the way back to my B&B (which I'd checked into only that morning, and paid upfront - assuming it would be at least a week before I found lodgings), all I could think about was that, when I returned, Mrs Carter would tie me to the bed and ravish me, possibly over a period of several hours until I could no longer stand. I'm not sure why I wanted her to tie me to the bed. I'd have happily let her do whatever it was she was going to do to me without the need to be restrained, but restraint had long figured in my fantasy sex life. In the absence, up till then, of any female desperate to ravish me senseless, the idea that a woman would be so eager to fuck me that she'd tie me down first had a curious - if unlikely - appeal.

I only had the one case, and it wasn't that heavy. Even so, Mrs Carter insisted that her husband carry it up the stairs and deposit it on the floor at the foot of my bed. I had a few coins in my pocket and somehow resisted the urge to tip him. If I'd done so, I had the distinct impression he'd have taken it.

'Have a shower,' said Mrs Carter, 'so you're nice and fresh, then meet us in the sitting room and I'll explain your duties.' Though not unfriendly, her tone was blunt and matter-of-fact. She might have been explaining how the washing machine worked and what sort of powder was best.

As soon as she and her husband had gone, I showered, dressed, then went downstairs.

When I walked in, the second thought that occurred to me was that their sitting room was as beautifully laid out as the rest of the house. My first thought - a moment previously - was that both Mr and Mrs Carter were naked.

I stopped in my tracks, with my mouth wide open, and my brain already halfway down the Carters' long, serpentine driveway, its bags packed, and never planning to return. Henry Carter was not the most gainly of men fully clothed, let alone in the buff. I tried not to look at his penis, which, with vocal encouragement from his wife, he was vigorously masturbating. Any chance of an erection seemed unlikely. His member remained defiantly limp, despite her cries of 'Get it up, Henry, you know you can do it if you try.'

Emily Carter on the other hand, was most certainly a sight for sore eyes. I had found her curiously attractive fully clothed. Naked, she was divine. Her body was positively Rubenesque, with curves in all the right places. Her plump, milky breasts - tipped with cork-like nipples - gave way to a gently rounded tummy, which, in turn, swept down and outwards into broad, fleshy hips. Her thighs, though soft and sculptured, suggested hidden strength. She could, I was pretty certain, crush any man foolish enough to insert himself between her legs without permission.

On spotting me, she immediately stood up - she'd been curled up on the sofa, urging Henry's cock not to let the side down - and crossed the room to greet me. I tried not to look at the dark vee of pubes that crowned the top of her thighs, visibly bristling as she walked.

A moment later, I found myself enveloped inside her breasts, as her arms swept either side and hugged me close. Her breath was warm against my cheek and, as she pulled away, I caught a hint of roses on her skin. I swallowed hard, giddy with excitement, and felt my penis forcing itself upright inside my pants.

'Welcome to Shangri-la,' she said, catching me by surprise. It took me a second or two to recall that Shangri-la was the name of the house (Henry's choice, apparently!), and not some indication I had entered Paradise. A moment later, however, I was fairly sure that I had. Mrs C pressed her hand against my trouser crotch and squeezed me gently.

'From now on, you will call me Madam, do you understand?' she said. 'Madam!'

I nodded mutely, which was clearly not the appropriate response because she squeezed my balls a fraction tighter. 'Say it, Stephen. Tell me you understand.'

'I understand, Madam!' I replied quickly, my voice rising an octave as she squeezed again.

'I will obey your every command, Madam,' she said, squeezing again and making my knees buckle.

'I will obey your every command, Madam!' I repeated, not wanting to suffer permanent damage below the waist.

'Good boy,' she giggled lightly, relaxing her grip.

'Clothes off, Stephen,' she continued in a commanding tone and, when I hesitated, a darker note entered her voice. 'Don't make me ask you again,' she said, and squeezed slightly harder. When I say slightly harder, I mean very much harder. It wasn't nice at all and my penis - having previously been quite keen on galloping into battle - turned tail and ran.

In spite of this , I continued to hesitate. But only for a moment. When she squeezed again, I quickly unbuttoned my shirt and removed it, followed - as she finally released me - by my trousers, underpants and socks. In no time at all, I was as naked as Mrs Carter and her husband. And, as a result - I was relieved to find - still in one piece.

I felt terribly vulnerable. Late in the day, it occurred to me that, for all I knew, Mr and Mrs Carter were a couple of homicidal maniacs. The next thing anyone heard of me, I'd be found upside down in a ditch with a carrot up my bottom and a bewildered expression on my pale, dead face.

'Good boy,' said Mrs Carter. 'Now show me what you can do.'

'I'm sorry, Madam?' I muttered, because I wasn't quite sure what she had in mind. A spot of light cleaning, perhaps, or a quick mow of the lawn?

When she pointed at my penis, and made a crude pumping gesture, the clouds of doubt rolled away.

She wanted me to masturbate for her!

Away to my right, poor Henry was still pumping himself to no effect and I suddenly realised why. If I'd been in my room, on my own, with a copy of Mayfair - or just the image of a naked Mrs C in my head - I'd have been up like a rocket and already reaching for the tissues. But standing in front of her naked, while she encouraged me to give it my best shot, just wasn't conducive to a successful outcome.

She shook her head, clearly disappointed, turned her back on me and walked back to Henry.

'Let me show you what happens when you disappoint me,' she said, roughly removing her husband's hand and closing her fingers around his cock. The other hand cupped his balls and jiggled them lightly.

The poor man promptly stood to attention, arms by his sides, and his head facing forward. In no time at all, Mrs C had him fully erect, her hand flying up and down his shaft.

'Remember the rules, Henry,' she counselled him. 'You mustn't come. Not without permission.' She sighed loudly and jiggled his balls again. 'You know what happens if you let yourself come.'

I heard him groan and watched as his face creased miserably. That he was on the point of coming was all too clear from the way his eyes narrowed and his mouth drooped. But there was a fear in his face, too, that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. What on earth was going to happen to him if he came?

When his mouth twisted horribly and he groaned again, I knew he was on the brink. My gaze returned to his penis, and Mrs C's silky hand sweeping up and down. I saw the instant his body tensed, in one final, futile bid to stem the tide of pleasure in his groin. A moment later, his penis jerked and all as lost.

Which was when, to my astonishment, Mrs C released her husband's shaft, stepped back and shook her head sadly. 'Poor Henry,' she sighed and I saw his legs judder in a bid to remain upright. 'Always unable to control himself.' A cruel smile lifted the edges of her mouth, as she watched the semen dribble from his cock. 'Now I'll have to punish you ... with the hole in my bottom.'

Henry's mouth dropped open, and - I won't pretend otherwise - mine was pretty close behind. As for the look on his face, it was one of abject misery. Mine, I suspect, was rather more confused and gormless. The hole in her bottom? What the hell did that mean?

'Please, Madam,' he muttered in a thin, plaintive voice. 'It wasn't my fault, I couldn't help myself.'

His hands were clasped together and, even from across the room, I could see him shaking fearfully.

'Down on the floor,' said Mrs Carter, ignoring his mournful plea. 'Head on the sofa, face up. Now!' That last word was uttered with a barely controlled note of anger in her voice. Perhaps Henry needed rage to spur him on. He certainly appeared to be in no hurry to obey his wife and moved with the reluctance of a man mounting the scaffold.

I watched, transfixed, as he dropped to his knees, then shuffled up against the sofa. When he leaned back and lowered his head onto the cushion, it was done with all the eagerness of a man placing his neck on the execution block.

'Oh, God...' I muttered - I couldn't help myself - when I saw what happened next. Mrs Carter stepped in front of her husband, turned her back and planted her legs either side of him. When she reached back and clawed her bottom open, I felt a cold knot - somewhere between pleasure and pain - form in the pit of my stomach.

'Can you see my little hole, Henry?' she inquired, with as much emotion as if she were asking for the time of day. 'The opening into my bottom?'

Her husband's face crumpled. He was either a wonderful actor or this was genuine distress - and I had no doubt, as I watched his lips twist miserably, that it was the latter.

'Yes, Madam,' he muttered in a mournful voice. 'I can see your little hole.'

'You know what I'm going to do, don't you?' she continued, 'with the hole in my bottom?'

'Oh, please, madam, no...' wailed Henry, throwing his head from side to side. 'Don't punish me, please, I beg you. Not with your little hole. Please!'

Glancing across, Mrs Carter curled a finger and beckoned me over. I walked towards her, a little stiffly, my mind in a whirl. When she closed her fist and made another pumping motion I immediately clutched my penis and did the same. I remained as limp as before and could see from the look on her face that she was disappointed.

'Come round here,' she said. 'Kneel on the floor ... and look at my hole.'

I swallowed hard and, to my surprise, felt my penis unfurl. Dropping to the carpet, I angled my head a fraction, then lost my nerve and glanced away.

'I told you to look at my hole, Stephen!' she said sharply. 'You're going to see a lot of her in the future, and will pay her the proper respect!'

The way she spoke of her anus - in the third person - made it sound as if she was referring to a living creature which, in a way, I suppose she was. But it surprised me a little, and unnerved me a lot. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I turned my head back and gazed up, staring into the crack between her buttocks.

The first thing that struck me was how large Mrs Carter's bottom was. Her buttocks resembled two fleshy pillows either side of a long, dark chasm. Her pubic hair was even thicker than it had first appeared when she had walked towards me. Dark, tangled curls emerged from between her thighs and spread the length of her crack, before gathering like a protective army around the proud, wrinkled knot of her anus. When I caught sight of that dangerous little hole for the first time, I felt another cold knot form in my stomach. But - worse than that - my penis began to harden.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Henry's face growing steadily paler. It was clear that the mere sight of his wife's anus filled him with horror, and I understood why. As she bent her legs a little and lowered her hips, her intention became all-too obvious. She was going to sit on his head!

'What do you think when you see my little hole, Stephen?' she inquired of me crudely. 'Does she excite you - when you look up at her?' She surrendered to a soft giggle. 'Do you want her to do things to you?'

With my gaze still obediently locked on the opening itself I had no idea what the proper response was. It struck me that there wasn't one, and that I would be damned however I replied.

'I ... I ...' was about all I could manage before she reached out and squeezed my swollen glans. It caught me by surprise and I yelped sharply.

'You're up, you wicked boy!' she shrieked. 'You're up because you've seen my little hole!'

Again, I struggled for any useful response and, instead, bit down on my lip as my penis gave another strong jolt.

'If only Henry loved my little hole,' she said quietly. 'If only he wasn't afraid of her ...'

I thought I heard a touch of sadness in Mrs Carter's voice, but, if I did, it quickly passed. Her breasts rose dramatically as she took a deep breath and her nostrils flared. She clawed with her fingers, opening her buttocks even wider so that her little hole visibly stretched. Despite my own horror at what was about to happen, I couldn't drag my gaze away from the dark, pouting well of her anus. The little hairs that fringed her hole sparkled with sweat and beads of moisture clung to every strand.

'Please no!' squealed Henry as she bent her legs and lowered her bottom. I immediately lost sight of her hole, but a last, vivid image of it opening and closing like a hungry mouth has stayed with me all my life. As has her husband's pitiful cry as she wrapped her cheeks around his face and took him into her crack.

'Hold onto his feet!' cried Mrs Carter, catching me by surprise. I was still pumping myself hard - as she had told me to - with no conscious thought and no sense of pleasure. I was vaguely aware of poor Henry screaming inside his wife's bottom, and tried to blot it from my mind. His legs had already begun to kick and his thin arms were waving furiously, like a pair of demented windmill blades, fingers clawing the air because his wife had gripped his wrists and was holding his hands away from her hips.

'I said hold onto him!' she repeated loudly, and this time I did as I was told. It meant letting go of my penis, but I guessed even she was prepared to allow me that. Grabbing hold of his ankles wasn't the easiest thing in the world, and, once or twice before I managed it, he almost struck my cock a glancing blow.

Remarkably, it didn't go down. Far from it, in fact. The moment I had hold of Henry's feet my shaft, which was already almost fully erect, stiffened further.

'It excites you, doesn't it?' cried Mrs Carter, wriggling happily on her husband's head. 'It excites you to know that I'm punishing Henry with my bottom - and he can't get away!'

I wasn't excited at all just then, but I wasn't daft enough to admit it to Mrs Carter. I'd grown rather attached to my penis since reaching puberty and preferred not to run any risk of losing it. And so I clung on grimly and said - heaven help me - 'Yes, Madam! Three bags full, Madam!' (OK, I didn't add the 'three bags full' line, but I somehow felt it was implied.)

'I wish he wasn't so frightened of my little hole,' she continued in a voice that suggested it genuinely upset her. 'A husband shouldn't be frightened of his wife's little hole.' She threw back her head and sighed. 'He should want to worship it every day of his life.'

A sudden shiver riddled Mrs Carter's body. 'Oh, my word!' she squealed. 'Henry's nose is in my bottom!' She shook her hips and sucked air rapidly. 'He's trapped inside my passage!'

I rather doubted that - not literally at least - but from the way his thin legs were heaving, and his hands scratching the air, I knew he was in trouble.

'That's what happens when he struggles!' cried Mrs Carter, who seemed keen to give me a running commentary on her husband's plight. 'His nose always goes into the hole!'

I'd lost track of how much time had passed, but I was sure it was more than a minute. I wondered how long the poor man could last without passing out - especially if, as Mrs Carter had suggested, his nose was now inside her bottom and his mouth presumably stopped up with her cunt. He couldn't be breathing, and it seemed unlikely he'd grabbed any air before his wife had sat on him.

Remarkably - for a man who hated the sight of his wife's bottom, and now found himself with his nose in her hole - his penis was unmistakeably erect. His balls, too, appeared to have doubled in size and were rolling jerkily in their sacs.

'Men can't help themselves,' giggled Mrs Carter. 'Even when they're being punished, they get excited!'

I suspected it was blind panic - not delight - that was responsible for Henry's erection, but, again, chose to keep the thought to myself. The eye of his cock was still dribbling come, though it appeared, as far as I could tell, to be fresh semen - and not the remnants of his first, failed orgasm. Either way, he was deriving no pleasure from his ordeal - which seemed to be his wife's intention.

All the while, as I held on tight, I was aware of muffled shrieks emerging from inside Mrs Carter's crack, and it was all I could do not to let go of her husband's ankles. Not because of any fading strength on my part, but rather because I knew he must be suffering dreadfully. Besides, if she didn't get off his face fairly soon, I was pretty sure we'd be facing a murder charge.

Which was when, to my enormous relief - though I imagine it was nothing to how Henry must have felt - Mrs Carter raised her backside from his face and allowed the poor man to breathe again.

'Keep holding on,' she insisted, 'or he'll only hurt himself.'

I wasn't quite sure how my letting him go was a bad thing, but I did as she said and, though he continued to kick for almost another minute, he at last ran out of steam and collapsed in a heap, sobbing freely.

'Are you sorry, Henry?' she inquired once he'd got his breath back, 'for spilling yourself without permission?'

'Yes - yes, Madam,' he muttered hoarsely.

'Good boy,' she replied, before looking at me. 'Let that be a lesson to you, Stephen. If I ever discover you've been masturbating in private, or spill yourself without permission, you'll be punished. Do you understand?'

I shook my head mutely, before remembering her earlier injunction. 'Yes, Madam,' I said. 'I'll be a good boy, I promise.'

I have no idea where the words 'good boy' actually came from, but it seemed, just then, the obvious thing to say. When Mrs Carter smiled, I knew I'd pleased her and felt a surge of relief. The moment of danger appeared to have passed.

Which was when, having unbent her legs and climbed to her feet, she caught me by surprise again.

'Well, then, Stephen,' she said in a quiet, steady voice. 'I think it's time I introduced you to the hole in my bottom...'

To be continued ...

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Pocketrocket2Pocketrocket2almost 4 years ago

I kinda liked it, but you didn't write any more :-(. Was looking forward to her getting your tongue in her hirsute cunt, and you fucking her in front of her husband. She sounds like the kind of lady who would revel in getting you almost to the vinegar strokes, making you pull out then ordering her husband to lick her to orgasm. There, that's my wanktasy for today, thanks.

HerRectalSlaveHerRectalSlaveabout 5 years ago
Parts of this story seems to be written exclusively about me.....

.....or so it seems. It's way too early to say how much, because obviously, Part 03 is on it's way. (Hopefully) I was intrigued at how the high expectation of submission and worship of her little hole is so highly pronounced. You're not moving too fast, which is good. I want to say you're moving too slowly, but that's only the anticipation in me talking. Take your time. Make it count. My owner loves it when I worship her "royal rectum" as she calls it. I won't go into detail about that. This is YOUR story, not mine, and very good one so far.

Bob_AganoushBob_Aganoushover 5 years ago
This chapter was much better than the first

Very erotic and well written. Look forward to reading more

AnonymousAnonymousover 5 years ago
Wow

Love this story please keep going

AmazonDarkRiderAmazonDarkRiderover 5 years agoAuthor

Thank you for that. I appreciate it - and will try not to keep you waiting for too long!

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