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Chapter
12
If the start of the
day was getting to be predictable, it was the most pleasant routine
I could think of. It was 8 a.m. sharp and the girls were on my doorstep.
Linda stood there chewing
a stick of gum, a smirk on her face, and said, "Hi, boss!" There
was no question who was boss and she knew it and I knew it and she
knew I knew she knew it. But I didn't think about that.
"Why, Mr. Greer," Kimmie
said sweetly. "You look so powerful, so... so masculine today. Why,
any girl's heart would go pitter pat just by looking at you."
I guess I did look pretty
good. Earlier I'd showered and shaved and had put on my shorts and
my freshly ironed Washington Redskins cutoff jersey. I had rolled
up the sleeves and stood in front of the bedroom mirror expanding
my chest, checking my biceps. Then I put on a clean pair of jeans
and socks, laced up my sneaks and stood again in front of the mirror.
"Yup." The shirt seemed to have just the right touch, emphasizing
my fairly broad shoulders and tapering to my slim waist. The jersey's
ragged edge ended just above the belt line of my jeans. The jeans
themselves were a perfect fit and hugged my buns; overall I had
that clean, athletic look. And I felt terrific, full of energy.
It must have been the good night's sleep.
The twins were a contrast
in perfection. Linda had on her usual baseball cap but was wearing
a pair of white overalls, decorated with paint smudges and spatters
from earlier work that hadn't come out in the wash. And her workboots.
But I knew the body beneath and I knew her arrogance. "Powerful
female, needs some taming," I thought to myself.
Kimmie's soft flowing
red hair set about her shoulders and it looked like she had no makeup
on. Well, a light touch of lipstick; her clear smooth complexion
required no makeup if she chose not to wear any. It was her dress
as much as anything that gave her that 'little girl' look. All white,
with a peter pan collar, short puffy sleeves and a slight A-line
from the swell of her breasts to perhaps only a third the way down
her thighs. Short white cotton ankle socks and black Mary Janes.
And her white bag, I guessed a shoulder bag to judge by the length
of the strap. She was swinging it lazily back and forth.
The dress style did
not emphasize her breasts. But I had this intense urge to reach
up under her skirting, rip off her panties, drag her inside, drop
her on the couch and do her. Mad, passionate sex. Right then and
there.
And Linda. She could
have been standing there in sackcloth and ashes, beating me with
a broom. I'd take anything she decided to dish out. Because that
would mean I'd be with her. Just the two of us. Alone.
I took a deep breath
and flexed my muscles, hoping somehow to impress these two vixens.
They looked at each other and smiled. It was no use. They ruled
and they knew it. But for my eighteen years of marriage while I
had always cared for my wife, it was I who made the decisions. Margo
seemed to accept that. That's the way I thought it was supposed
to be.
If I even hinted at
that to the two women I faced, they'd laugh. I knew it. As I exhaled
I looked down at my shirt and it seemed that even the Indian's feather
was wilting. It was so confusing.
"C'mon, Tommy boy. Time
to get to work," Linda said. She brushed past me, headed for the
patio outside the living room where her materials were stored. I
looked at Kimmie, poised, unhurried. Perhaps waiting for me to do
something.
"Oh, excuse me, Kim."
I opened the door wider for her and stood aside.
She nodded as she stepped
into the house. "Why thank you, Mr. Greer. That was so thoughtful
of you." I closed the door. I took in all of her, wondering how,
wondering what would be the proper way to act with her.
It turned out there
was no need to waste the time thinking about it. Linda's shout came
clearly from just outside the back of the house, "Kimmie, you take
him, I'm gonna get right to work."
Kim got right to work
also. She put her arm through mine -- I had not thought to offer
her my arm -- and we walked in the direction of my bedroom. Another
shout from Linda: "I want him later for recreation." I blushed.
"Kim," I started...
"That would be Mistress,
wouldn't it sweetness?" she said.
"Well, I don't know
that we should..."
"Tina," she said sharply,
"It will not be necessary to re-establish your proper place,
now will it?" She stopped; we were outside the bedroom. Her eyes
were fixed on mine. Although I knew she was looking up at me, I
felt that she was staring me down. And suddenly we both knew how
it would be between us, how it had been almost from the moment I'd
met her.
"No, Mistress."
"Why sweetness, that's
just wonderful!" And she took her arm from mine and placed a hand
on each side of my face and leaned up and kissed my cheek. "Come
into the bedroom with Mistress, sweetness." She walked in, gave
a small skip, twirled in front of my armchair and sat down in it.
"Tina, dear, your jeans look so uncomfortable. Is there something
growing there?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Well, then, the jeans
need to come off. Sit down in front of me and take off your sneakers."
I sat and began to untie my laces. Then I got up and removed my
pants.
"Darling, you really
are going to have to pay attention to Mistress. Boxer shorts are
ugly. You must throw them all out. Yesterday I had this wonderful
thought that you should be kept in panties all the time. Do you
remember me saying that, sweetness?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Well, then. Shorts
off, socks too."
I stood there in my
Washington Redskins shirt, feeling a little sheepish and feeling
a lot undressed. But at the same time my cock, which had been in
a plump state all this time, began to grow.
"Sweetness," she was
staring at my penis, "Mistress is certainly glad your biceps aren't
the only muscles you like to flex. Mistress likes it when you are
hard for her. You will stay that way for me, won't you sweetness?"
"Mistress, I don't think...
I mean, I can't control... Oh, Mistress! You are such a beautiful
woman." My right hand moved towards my cock.
"Take your hand away,
darling. You didn't wear your panties, did you? That was very naughty
and Mistress is upset with you."
She had this pout on
her face and, despite my frustration I had to admit she was right.
I hadn't dressed properly for her. And she looked so lovely sitting
there in her innocent (but so-seductive) dress, her hands folded
in her lap.
Something seemed slightly
out of place. Then, as I studied her I realized that although so
much of her clothing and demeanor suggested "little girl" those
perfectly shaped fingernails said "woman". And it was only yesterday
afternoon I had cared for her nails and applied a fire-engine red
nail polish. This morning they were pink once more.
"Tina, I thought you
wanted to please Mistress," she said.
"I do, Mistress. Really."
"Well then, take off
that silly shirt and get properly dressed."
I pulled my shirt over
my head. "Mistress, do you have things for me to wear?"
"Why no, darling. Do
you mean to say you haven't bought them yet?"
I was confused. I knew
the previous afternoon she had said something about my going shopping
and she'd given me a list, but it was just a joke. I thought it
was a joke. I hoped it was a joke.
Maybe it wasn't a joke.
"No, Mistress."
"Really, sweetness!
We will just have to make do. Go to Mrs. Greer's drawer and take
out a pair of pretty panties. And a bra, garter belt and nylons
too. I don't want you partly dressed when company comes."
Stunned, I headed toward
the dresser. I didn't even want to ask what Mistress meant by 'company'.
When I was with this woman, life seemed to be one nonstop succession
of surprise, frustration and embarrassment. And pleasure. My cock
was standing straight up.
I dressed in a daze.
The light blue panties didn't match the white bra and garter belt,
but I hardly noticed. A week earlier I would never have considered
doing what I was doing. But now I knew what Mistress expected and,
in that light, it seemed only natural.
"Very nice, darling.
But I am still upset about your forgetting. I want you in panties
all the time. How are we going to remember that, sweetness?"
"I don't know, Mistress.
But I promise not to forget again."
"I'll call you my little
panty slave. That should help, don't you think?'
"Yes, Mistress."
She gave a little cry
of delight, and then "Darling, you are not wearing any heels. You
still are not properly dressed."
I knew not to argue.
I went to the closet and took out a pair of Margo's heels. These
were sandals. They were made of thin white straps, which would show
more of my feet. Thank goodness the buckle allowed me to let out
the strap that slipped up each of the heels of my foot. The heels
themselves looked to be about 3" high and I didn't know if I could
walk on them but I was sure Mistress expected me to try. So I put
them on and returned slowly to Mistress. I found that if I continued
to take short, little steps and if I used my arms to help balance,
that I was able to move without wobbling too much.
I stood in front of
Mistress, now properly dressed (I thought), my cock rock-hard and
nestled in my panties. She looked me over critically and then she
smiled. She stood and stroked me through my panties, just a little.
"Mistress' panty-slave
won't forget to wear her panties in future, will she?"
"No, Mistress."
"That's a good girl."
She turned her back to me. "Darling, Mistress has been getting all
wet. Unbutton my dress."
I needed no second invitation
for that and I undid the buttons carefully down the back, helped
Mistress from her dress, from the slip she had underneath, and carefully
placed her clothing on the bed. Mistress stood before me in her
bra and panties; even with her little-girl socks and shoes she most
definitely did not look like any little girl I had ever met. I squeezed
my engorged penis hard through its nylon covering.
"No, darling. I have
told you before, you may not touch yourself without Mistress' permission.
Mistress is going to think up a punishment for you. Panty-slaves
know that their Mistress' pleasure always comes first. Not sometimes.
Always. Do you understand, sweetness?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"That's just wonderful,
darling! I just *know* we're going to get along so well together.
Mind you, we have lots more to learn in our feminine appreciation
course, don't we?"
"Yes, Mistress." I didn't
know what she meant but I did know what to do when she instructed
me to take off her panties (which were damp and smelled so nice)
and when then she sat down in my armchair. I knelt and stroked the
outside of her legs softly as I licked and kissed my way on a course
up the inside of her legs, along her soft thighs to her.
I buried myself in her,
licking, kissing, suckling. Her breathing quickened, I found it
harder to breathe. When she arched, I increased my devotion to her.
And she came. I suckled her softly, enjoying her sweet juices.
The problem with all
this was that my cock was as hard as it could be. Mistress excited
me no end, but I knew I could not take more of this. "Frustration
*can* overpower desire," I thought to myself, and wondered how to
tell Mistress that I did not need any more teasing, that I needed
relief right away. Even Federal Express ('When it absolutely, positively,
has to be there overnight') would be too slow to take care of my
need.
Suddenly, and with surprising
strength she pushed me back. I lay on the floor, on my side and
breathing heavily. "On your back, hands at your sides," she said,
sharply. And then she both astonished and delighted me as she took
off her bra, lay down next to me, fed me a nipple and said, "Nurse."
She stroked me through
my panties. I was bound to her for eternity. And I exploded.
"Ewyoo, yuck," Mistress
said.
But she continued to
cradle me in her breasts as gradually I came back to earth and my
breathing subsided. She ran her fingers through my hair and rocked
me. I was at peace with the world. I whispered, "You are so good
to me, Mistress."
"You won't forget your
panties in future, will you darling?"
"No, Mistress."
She had me pick another
pair of panties from Margo's drawer. This time I remembered Mistress'
preference for color coordination and chose a pair of nylon briefs
with pretty lace inserts -- all white, the color of my other intimate
wear. I went to the bathroom to clean myself up.
When I came out again,
Mistress had dressed and was touching up her lipstick. She looked
as fresh as when I'd opened the front door.
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