The Mistresses Next Door - Episode 1. Emanuel J.
eaten in the refectory. When the dishes had been cleared away and the sink neatly polished, he handed each of them a quarter-filled, bulbous glass of red wine with a curtsey-like shape and again his gaze wandered to the green digital clock of the microwave, which he had been keeping an eye on the whole time. It was now two minutes to ten. Of course, he hadn't forgotten the order.. But should he really do it, now, just like that, without a word, without a hint, out of the blue? Was that not terribly shameful to expose himself thus, could Franziska or Isabel not at least have given him a hint if they really demanded it of him? They let the glasses clink together and drank while he stood helpless in front of them.
Isabel also looked at the microwave clock, where it was now one minute past ten, and she looked at Franziska with a smile. "Tomorrow it's your turn to cook... I told you he'd be embarrassed."
So they were waiting for this! They even made a bet? Without further hesitation, he took the tin can from the microwave, pushed the string down to his knees with a determined jerk, prepared himself with the lubricant and gently pushed the plug into his ass, which yielded more readily this time.
Franziska's words mingled with his sigh. "I thought you understood me. But apparently, I was wrong."
"Please forgive me, my lady. I wanted to..."
"So, you wanted? It would have been better for you if you had. You do realize you deserve your punishment?"
It was as if he had to confirm his death sentence. "Yes, my lady, I see it."
"Then bring me the crop!"
Where was it? Oh, out in the hall on the dresser. Instead of taking the opportunity to escape, he carried it into the kitchen on upturned palms and presented it with a humble curtsey. The glasses and the tin can with the tube were pushed completely to the back to the wall and he had to put his upper body on the polished surface. Franziska stroked his hair comfortingly, while today Isabel made a start for a change. She hit him hard and he cursed his miserable inhibition, which earned him only these burning blows. When Franziska then swung the crop, he cursed nothing, but only longed for the end of the ordeal. Never more, never more in his whole life he would disobey an order of his mistresses... When the next blow failed to materialize, he feared for a moment that it would continue immediately after, but then the hand fell from his head and he was allowed to straighten up. What a blessing! He recognized only the outline of his mistress through the veil of tears.
Her voice sounded impatient. "Have you nothing to say to me?"
"Yes, my lady. I thank you for the punishment I deserve." Gently he wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "I love you..."
She sighed, plagued. "Yes, likewise, I think. But it would be really nice if you would follow the instructions."
"That's what I'll do, my lady. I will be a very obedient slave to you.“
"I'm curious to see how many times you'll promise that and then be naughty again. But come on, let's go over to the living room. "They took their glasses with them themselves and he carried the bottle after them with the small steps the lace around his knees forced on him again today. They sat down in the armchairs and he gave them wine, but a little clumsy, so that a few drops splashed on the glass table top. Damn, idiot! He wanted to go to the kitchen to get a towel, but Isabel stopped him. "Wait!" She turned to Franziska. "Actually, he could clean it up as a slave should... What's he got his tongue for?"
Surprised, Franziska looked up, then she smiled. " Yes, he could do that."
What Daniel thought about it was, of course, irrelevant. Fire was still glowing on his butt and there on Franziska's chair the crop leaned ominously, ready to take action again. So, he bent down deeply to the table and conscientiously licked the spilled wine up with the crumbs that were still on the table top perhaps from a sandwich, it didn't really matter. When everything was clean, he had to tilt his face up to the base of the glass that Isabel placed on his lips, and under the interested gaze of the two women, lick the red drops that clung to its underside.
Franziska smiled at him provocatively as Isabel carefully put the glass down again. "You know now how to get rid of such filth in the future, don't you?"
"Yes, my lady, I know."
Isabel seemed to have been very animated by his cleaning action, because her eyes sparkled greedily at him. "Come here, Daniela, pleasure me."
Daniela was a magic word that melted him to a frenzy of lust and devotion; full of tingling expectation he crawled towards her on all fours, squeezed between her thighs and shoved his head under her skirt hungrily. No panties obstructed his access today, which proved that her desire did not come from a mere whim, this was planned. But it was not the moment to overthink things.
Muffled, her voice sounded through into the cavern of her skirt, but the words were not addressed to him. "Is it actually okay for you if I use him for this?"
Franziska answered with emphatic indifference. "Of course. That's what he's here for."
Then Isabel said nothing more, for now she reclined under his caresses, spreading her thighs, and allowing herself to moan with delight. He nestled between the soft thighs, savouring the smell of her. Paying meticulous attention to her sounds and the motion of his tongue, he continued, as she allowed herself to succumb to an orgasm, because he was there for that, only to please her. His head was pushed back and breathing deeply he returned to the daylight, reluctantly, he longed to be close to her even longer. There was no boot for him today to satisfy his own desires, which was not the end of the world, since the desires were not as torturous as last time, fortunately. It was almost as if Isabel's orgasm had also included him.
Eleven o'clock was long gone, it was almost midnight, and he still had the plug in him. Clearly, the prescribed time of removal was far less important than that of insertion. He was even allowed to take him with him today, as an exception, and Franziska explained the reason to him: "We meet at the department store at Wilhelmsplatz at five o'clock. You still need a few things so you don't have to wear the same thing all the time. You will be wearing your butt plug. And under your pants, you're wearing stockings, the white ones. But no socks over them. Did you hear that?"
Oh, yes, she did. Is that really how she wanted to send him out? It took him a moment to produce an answer. "Yes, my mistress, I heard it."
Smiling, she stroked his hair. "Poor Daniel. Make a face like I'm chaining you to a lamppost outside the department store." She gave him a tender pat on the cheek. "What's the usual saying on the Internet forum? A good mistress leads the slave to his limits and a little beyond. And, knowing you, it'll be very appealing for you."
The evening was over, his mistresses wanted to go to bed and he was allowed to pull up his panties. Isabel smiled at him as he said goodbye, and Franziska carefully guided him to the door to look out with him. Nothing moved outside. With smaller steps and not quite as silently as usual, he scurried through the stairwell, breathing heavily. Arriving at his apartment, he drank a glass of wine and sat for a while, paying close attention to the deep sensations the plug gave him. A dull throb of arousal at the entrance where it stretched, a delicious pressure deep inside at certain angles, which made him want to move onto it, to take it further inside him. Tomorrow, he thought with anticipation, while he cleaned it thoroughly with a kitchen towel under the tap, tomorrow he would feel it inside again when Franziska took him to his limits (and probably more than just a little beyond, he feared).
*
All day long grey clouds covered the sky and did not let a ray of sunshine fall on the city. There was a cool east wind blowing, but the air was still somewhat warm, difficult to say whether one should shiver or not. The leaves of the trees that lined Wilhelmsplatz on the western edge of the street were now brightly coloured. Regardless, Daniel stood next to the entrance of the department store and watched the buses and trams coming in endless rows, spitting out crowds and sucking them in to continue after a short stop. Everywhere people swarmed around and whole herds gathered in front of the pedestrian lights to stream across the eastern street to the pedestrian zone.
"Hello, Daniel, how are you?" Edith stood in front of him, a former high school classmate.