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I am glad you are here. I need your help with this slave
#1
Shopping for clothes did not have the same thrill alone as it did with Emma. Despite her being new to the neighborhood, Emma had quickly become the close friend I had been missing for years. The kind of friend you shared things with, family problems, secrets, shopping trips. In fact, in the month since she had arrived, I felt closer to another female than I had since college. Thus, it was with a bit of melancholia that I had gone to the mall that Saturday. Emma had begged off, citing a migraine as reason to skip out on me. So finding that perfect black skirt I had been seeking was just not the triumph it might have been, had Emma been along to share the victory. Still, I could show off my prize to her now that I was home. Perhaps her headache was better. With that thought in mind, I quickly changed out of my jeans and into the short, black skirt. I checked myself in the mirror and was pleased with the image I got in return. The ten pounds I had dropped since Emma encouraged me to start running with her really made a difference. “Not bad for a 42 year old,” I thought, smoothing the tails of my white blouse down over the black fabric. Just one final touch, then I would show Emma my find. I slipped the black stockings over my toes, pulling the elastic up to my thighs. Sandals with three-inch heels completed the ensemble. I ran my fingers through my short red hair, checked my lipstick, and then marched across the yard to Emma’s.

I received no answer to my usual knock. Perhaps she was sleeping. Our neighborhood was still one of those in which people rarely locked their doors so I turned the knob and let myself in. Her living room was empty so I headed to the bedroom, certain I would find her sleeping away her migraine. When I opened the bedroom door, though, I was hardly prepared for the sight that met my eyes.

I froze in embarrassment. Before me stood Emma, wearing a white satin bustierre, white panties, and white hose peering above her black riding boots. In her hand was a riding crop. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a bun and she was wearing her glasses. That sight alone was enough to shock, but even more embarrassing was the sight of a young man on his knees in front of her. He wore nothing save a thick black dog collar from which extended a leash. His penis stood stiff at attention. I inhaled suddenly at the sight of it, easily as long and thick as my forearm. I had seen a few penises besides my husband’s over the years, but nothing to match this man’s outside of an x-rated video. Time stood still as I took in the scene. Then Emma’s voice broke the spell.

“Erica, I am glad you are here. I need your help with this slave.”

I stammered my apologies for interrupting and began to back out of the door.

“Slave,” Emma barked sharply, “Bring Erica to me.”

The man rose to his feet in response to her voice, his thick cock pointing straight towards me like some sort of medieval weapon. My knees felt weak, I could not move. The man’s hands touched my shoulders, gently guiding me towards Emma. I noted the soft fullness of her breasts over the cups of her bustierre and the way the boots added inches to her height. She was younger than me by at least ten years, there was a firmness to her body that I had long since lost. I had never acted on my bisexual fantasies nor even considered Emma as anything more than a friend but now my thoughts turned to the lascivious.

“Now, Erica, since you have had the gall to barge in where you were not invited, you must pay the penalty,” the icy tone of Emma’s voice made my stomach tighten. “I believe you need to be taught a lesson about invading another person’s privacy.” As if commanded, the man suddenly reached under my skirt and roughly yanked my panties down around my ankles. Emma’s crop lifted the hem of my skirt in back, exposing my white cheeks to her inspection. “Yes,” she said, softer now, less angry, “I think a spanking is in order.” The man guided me to the bed and bent me forward. My elbows sank into the deep feather mattress, causing my buttocks to arch higher. Suddenly, sharp red pain filled my head, my eyes. I cried out as the leather flap of the crop smacked my bottom once, twice, a third time. The man held my back down, keeping me from rising. “Emma,” I cried through my tears, “For god’s sake, what are you doing?”

“Hush, or it will continue,” she answered. Then, with my buttocks on fire, she was kissing my face, kissing away the tears. Her lips moved to mine. Soft, full, a feeling I had not known before. Her tongue snaked into my mouth. Involuntarily, as if by instinct, I returned the kiss. Our tongues darted and danced. The pain of my spanking was replaced now by the squishy heat emanating from between my thighs.

The pleasure engendered by the kiss completely took me away from the reality of my surroundings. My hands explored the soft skin of Emma’s back as she massaged away the last of the burning from my buttocks. The feel of her breasts pressed against mine was something I found highly exciting. Who knows what I might have done next, perhaps allowed my fantasies to take over, but at that moment Emma pulled back.

“You took your punishment well,” she cooed, “Now you get your reward.” She snapped her fingers and the man appeared by the bedside. I had completely forgotten his presence in the intensity of the kiss.

“Slave, prepare her,” Emma’s voice once again assumed the ring of total command. The man reached out, his cock now flaccid but still huge and dangling between his legs, and began to gently undo the buttons of my blouse. In moments it was off, my bra quickly following. Next, his strong hand lifted my legs up by the ankles and he quickly slid the skirt up and off, dropping my legs back onto the bed in the process. I lie there on the bed, nude but for my shoes and stockings, my heart beating rapidly in anticipation.

“Now, Erica, you shall get what you deserve,” Emma promised as she knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed. She pulled my legs towards her as her slave helped move my body through the thick feather mattress. I felt her breath on my inner thigh, then her tongue, hot and wet, licking, slowly, tantalizingly. Her nose was now at my slit, I could feel the puffy tissue of my labia parting, and then… heaven. Her tongue moved expertly over my sex, exploring, tasting, probing. My clitoris throbbed, I felt the heat deep inside my vagina. Emma draped my legs over her shoulders and began to feast. I was lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment. Then I felt it, a burning against my cheek. My eyes opened, Emma still working her magic on my nether regions, and there, staring me in the face, was the huge erection of her slave. He pressed his manhood against my lips, which opened involuntarily. I had to open wider than I was accustomed to allow his cock head in over my lips. My tongue savored his salty, musky taste. He reached a hand to the back of my head and forced me to take more of him in. With difficulty I fought the urge to gag. Then, pleasure took over. My first orgasm was building, the combination of a cock in my mouth and Emma’s tongue on and around my clitoris, her fingers probing into my vagina, sent me over the edge. I exploded in a wave of orgasmic pleasure, reflexively sucking on the huge penis in my mouth as ripple after ripple of my climax spread over my body. My nipples were on fire, my pussy gushing as Emma continued her business as if I had not even responded. In no time a second, more powerful orgasm racked my body. I cannot remember if the cock was still in my mouth, the pleasure was so overwhelming. The next thing I was aware of was Emma on the bed with me, on hands and knees, her mouth now moving to my still erect nipples.

“I’ve been waiting to taste these since first we met,” she giggled, her mouth lowering to my breast. Her tongue moved over my stiff nipple, sending a shiver down my tummy to my clit. I reached up and stroked her hair as she suckled on first my left, then my right nipple. The slave had moved behind her and suddenly Emma let out a loud moan. I turned my head to see the man directly behind her, his cock obviously buried in her shaven pussy. She sucked on my nipples in time to his strokes. A part of my mind marveled at her ability to take such a massive tool so easily, but the rest of my brain concentrated on the pleasure she was giving me. I felt her lips tighten on my nipple, her body tense, then a series of animal like sounds came from her mouth as her orgasm took her. I swear I heard a loud sucking vacuum-like sound as the man pulled out of her. Emma collapsed on top of me, her hands stroking along my sides, as her slave stepped back. To my astonishment, his erection was still there. Either he had not ejaculated, or he was so virile he was immediately ready to go again. Either way, I knew I certainly was. Any thought of his size being too much for me vanished in the glow of the after-effects of my orgasms.

“Emma,” I whispered, “May I?”

“My sweet Erica, don’t you know he is part of your reward too?”

What happened the rest of that afternoon remains a hazy, but pleasant, memory. Emma was in charge. The couplings and positions we assumed followed her direction as if on the set of a movie. Somehow, perhaps because of how totally wet I was, I handled the slave’s tool. That sense of being so completely and overwhelmingly filled still lingers. At one point, I am not sure of the positioning, but Emma’s mouth was on my clit as her slave drove deep into my vagina. At another point, I had my first taste of female secretion as Emma lowered herself onto my face while she sucked hungrily on her slave’s permanent (or so it seemed at the time) erection. I do recall the finale, though. I remember the incredible feeling of the slave pulling his penis from my now totally sated pussy, of crying out, the first sounds he had made all day, and then covering my stomach and breasts with his thick, warm semen. He pumped spurt after spurt of his cum onto me before finally moving away, allowing his mistress to lick his mess from my skin before sharing a taste with me, tongue to tongue. The afternoon ended with her slave giving me a sponge bath, cleaning the last of our sticky sex from my body. I drifted deeper into the feather mattress as Emma issued her final command.

“Sleep, my darling,” she ordered softly.

I obeyed.
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