Читать книгу The Mistresses Next Door - Episode 1 - Emanuel J. - Страница 6

Becoming Daniela

At a quarter to nine he was prepared and looked at himself shyly in the mirror. The white stockings were large and comfortable, the waist-short pink negligee was arched by the bra almost like a real breast and the little string was puffed up like a sail, almost swept aside by his swollen member. If only it would stop. Pink, of all colours! Yet somehow, for being more shameful, the pink and lace was all the more arousing. He had to wait a little longer because he wasn't allowed to show up too early. Seconds ticking by and he was conscious of every single one, the young people were dawdling by, bored adolescents kicking stones in front of them with their hands in their pockets. Then it was finally nine o'clock. Carefully he cracked the door and peered out into enemy territory. No danger, just silence. He slipped out and heard footsteps on the stairs. Immediately he retreated into his apartment and a few moments later the footsteps quieted as they continued their path up to the next floor.

When everything was quiet again, he took all his courage together, ventured out again and scurried almost inaudibly in his ballet slippers over to the neighbouring apartment, like a deer fleeing hunters. Sooner or later, he feared, some incredulous onlooker would bring him down to earth. Not today. Briefly, he rang the bell, hurriedly opened the door and sequestered himself in the dim hallway. Hesitantly, he entered the kitchen, which was lit differently than usual, not by the yellowish ceiling light, but by a fluorescent tube mounted above the sink on the underside of the wall unit It cast white light over the dirty dishes, there were not too many of them this time. Franziska leaned against the oven, dressed in jeans and a green T-shirt, and Isabel was sitting at the table with a thick black butt plug in front of her! The oval base allowed it secure footing as it bobbed intimidatingly on the table and next to it lay a black tube, probably containing some sort of lubricant. Daniel did not have time to stare at it, immediately falling to his knees to greet his mistresses appropriately. He started off with Franziska, licking her new boots with devotion.

Her voice sounded benevolently down to him. "Pink looks really good on him."

Isabel sounded a little sceptical. "I don't know. It's pretty girlish..." He crawled over to her on all fours and tenderly began to caress her brown sandals, the red lacquered toenails. Her voice was thoughtful. "I would never have thought it possible that someone would greet me like this and I would like it."

Franziska's answer sounded amused: "Really all women should be greeted like this as a matter of course."

Mistress fantasies! Imagining that all men might sink humbly to their knees before any woman was a strange and disturbing concept to him, as he could scarcely imagine greeting any women but these two in this way. As he raised his torso, his worst fear was realized - his hard cock reared up, sweeping the hopelessly overburdened scrap of lace to the side to stand uncovered in all its glory.

Franziska looked at him smiling. "Don't show off. And pull your panties down. They’re only getting in the way." Down, as he had recently learned, meant down to the knees. When he had done it with superfluous shyness, since the little bit of cloth didn't cover anything anyway, she pointed to the plug with a big gesture. "That's your surprise. Do you like it?"

"It’s beautiful, my lady."

Smiling, she tilted her head a little and alarm bells began to sound in him. "Our humble slave loves to joke. We’ll soon rid him of the tendency... Have you ever used one of these things before?"

"No, my lady. "

"Then it's high time. But first, greet it, so it can get used to you."

Greet it? He could only guess what she meant and slid hesitantly on his knees to the table, Isabel pushed the plug to the edge so. He licked it carefully.

"Put it in your mouth!" Franziska ordered.

He did as she said and began to suck on it in surrender.. He continued to suck it as Isabel squeezed some lube onto his obediently outstretched index finger. Without getting too close for comfort he slid it between his buttocks.

Franziska required more: "Get your finger in there!"

Oh! Are you serious? For a moment, he thought of refusal and rebellion, but then surrendered to their power, hesitatingly groping for the entrance. Gently, he screwed a forefinger into the tight hole. It was easier than he had thought, more pleasurable than he could have imagined.

Franziska's voice mingled with his agitated sigh. "Is it in there?“

He lifted his head a little and loosened his lips from the moist plug, shining with saliva. "Yes, my mistress."

"Deeper. And move it. I want you to enjoy it." He did what she wanted, and his groaning filled the kitchen. Isabel's hand stroked his hair soothingly. "Poor slave, you are so horny yet you may not allow yourself to come... What was happening at the weekend? Why haven't we heard from you?"

"I thought you didn't want to know anything more about me..."

"Really? And we thought the same of you."

These words stirred in him both joy and contrition. Joy, because she told him that he was as important to them as they were to him: contrition, because she sounded reproachful. "I'm sorry, Lady Isabel ... but I didn't know ..." He ran out of words, which was no wonder, given that he had to continue moving his finger in and out of his asshole, stirring a new and exotic lust. Franziska intervened. "A misunderstanding, apparently. To avoid this in the future, every day we don't see each other, you write us a text expressing your devotion. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my mistress, I will." That was kind, since in future it would save him the doom-laden mood of the weekend.

"Fine. Now put that thing in your ass!"

Of course, there was no contradicting their orders, even this one, yet more twisted than the others. A man conquered and penetrated, while a woman received, took in, granted access, submitting as he was now required to do. Gingerly, he started to push the offending item into his tight hole, finding to his surprise that his ass yielded to the firm rubber. It hurt a little when the thickest part forced the entrance, he felt the humiliation of womanhood as his sphincter burned, reluctantly stretching to accommodate the large toy. A groan of delight broke from his lips; it was wonderful to be in the role of the woman.

Both women watched him with interest and Franziska asked Isabel: "Have you ever done such a thing?"

Isabel carefully screwed the cap onto the tube. "What do you think of me? That's perverted. You?"

A smile hovered in Franziska's words. "What do you think of me? But when I look at him on the floor, enjoying every second of it, I think maybe I’m missing out..." She turned to address Daniel. "That seems to make you pretty horny?“

"Yes, my mistress, it does."

"Fine. And since that is known to promote your humility, from now on you will have it in you every Monday and Thursday evening from ten to eleven o'clock. You will receive no order to do so, you'll just put it in without saying a word when the time comes. Did you hear that?“

"Yes, my mistress."

"Good. And now you can make yourself useful."

Making himself useful meant washing dishes and that turned out to be an unexpectedly sensual act. With every small movement, the provocatively large plug stirred him up, stimulating him in places he had not known could give such arousal, as if new parts of him had come alive. He was not allowed to pull up the thong, it remained at his knees, where it clung tightly. His cock, rock hard, rubbed stealthily against the wide edge of the worktop, causing him to clench his buttocks, which in turn sent bolts of pleasure from his ass to his dick. He thirsted for relief from the increasing torment of lust, against which he manfully fought. He couldn't just let himself go in front of the two women, because that would have been even more embarrassing than anything else he thought. He was also afraid of the crop that would threaten him.

His gaze wandered briefly down to the parking lot, where the cars stood together like a herd of tired animals. He wondered if anyone could see him from down there. If so, then probably from too great a distance to be able to see details, he tried to console himself while washing a plate with his hips gently swaying. His mistresses watched him silently from the table, without bending a finger; true specimens of a successful emancipation (although he assumed that there had been dominant women, along with their male counterparts, in past centuries).

When all the dishes were dried and stowed away in the cupboards, Franziska stood behind him and tied his hands behind his back with the handcuffs, while Isabel looked at him, pondering. "It's handy to hold on to." The next moment she had grabbed his swollen penis with a firm hand, and he had no choice but to follow her out into the hallway with the small steps that the tiny thong at his knees allowed him. The doorbell rang suddenly. Questioning, the two women looked at each other, then they had come to an understanding. Isabel pulled him by his flesh handle into her room, and when they were safe, Franziska opened the door. Voices were muffled by the closed room door. Desperately, Daniel tried to contain the sighs that Isabel's persistently firm grip seemed to force from his lips, straining and quivering under her touch.

For the first time, he saw her room, which was quite small. In front of the window stood a small table with a laptop on it, around which books and manuscript pages were piled. Some plants stood on the windowsill and hardly enough space was left for a narrow bed and a high cupboard. Outside, the apartment door closed and they could venture back into the hallway where Franziska reported that it was Sebastian (who lived upstairs with Jasmin) and he had borrowed a packet of sugar. She smiled, apparently also thinking of what had happened last time someone brought one of those back. For a moment, Daniel felt the barest twinge of jealousy. But it was surely vanishingly rare to find a man with whom one could do such things. Daniel did not have to worry about competition, in this very special way he was quite unique (if he excluded Sascha).

Still grasped by the cock, he followed Isabel into the common room with his effeminate small steps, and only there did she release him from her clutch. He knelt. Franziska's jeans sat tight around the triangle of her crotch, right in front of his eyes, he noticed that his lips were approaching her as if drawn by a magnet, without having received the order.

She slapped his cheek sharply. "Will you let that go?" But immediately her indignation faded and she smiled at him with understanding. "You'd like to lick a pussy, wouldn't you?" Apparently, she understood men well enough to know that it wasn't necessarily hers, any would suffice.

There was no point in denying something that was obvious. "Yes, my lady. I long for it."

"Well you won't get mine." She looked at Isabel. "Try her."

Isabel looked up in surprise, apparently not expecting it. "With me? Really?" The next moment, however, her reflexive defence began to waver and she chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. She sighed hard. "Maybe it's quite nice."

The decision had apparently been made. She sat down in an armchair, called him to her with a wave of her finger and graciously (or perhaps expectantly) opened her thighs for him. The short blue pleated skirt was no barrier, it retreated without resistance, and he pushed the small black thong almost effortlessly to the side with his tongue. Her pussy was clad in woolly dark hair, a mistress need not be shaven like a doll Tenderly, greedily, lustfully he kissed, licked and nibbled on the wet, soft flesh of her pussy. He was so grateful to be able to give her this joy, however fleeting. He felt her hot desire overflowing from between her legs as he licked. Isabel's moaning filled the room and she pushed towards his face with delight. Her hand grabbed him by the hair to press his face even closer to her as she writhed on the armchair. Her thrusts aroused some yearning in him, a longing to scale these heights with her. At least, as far as was possible for a man, who could never experience the quite the depth of the female orgasm, the duration and repetitions, he believed, not even when he wore women's clothes. Nevertheless, it would have been beautiful to join her in her pleasure, but he wasn't allowed to.

Her hand shoved his head back, beatifically she smiled at him as she adjusted the skirt. "Very nice, you've done well. Like a girl. You should be called Daniela." Her gaze wandered to Franziska, who was sitting on the second chair. "I don't know how a girl licks, but I imagine it to be about as tender and sensitive as he does. I can really recommend him."

Was her recommendation accepted? Franziska waved at him and he crawled over to her on his knees. It was harder to get to her in her protective jeans. Well, it was impossible to get to her, because her legs remained crossed, even when he knelt close to her. The tip of her boot slid between his thighs and gently touched his testicles. It was as if angels' tongues caressed him; his cock twitched and his body moved forward onto her boot as though compelled. A moan escaped his lips. Franziska smiled compassionately. "Poor Daniel. You're so eager to come, aren't you?"

"Yes, my lady, it would be beautiful..."

"Then do it! I give you permission."

What? Was she serious? Apparently, yes. The boot remained in his crotch and his penis greedily rubbed against it, straining against the leather from pure arousal, without caring how unworthy it was of this sublime pleasure. At this point, he would have rubbed himself against a table leg or a lamppost, pure instinct unable to hold back in his frenzied sexual response, not caring what object it was directed at. And yet there was nothing more beautiful in this moment than to let his cock slide up and down firmly pressed to the smooth black leather. Debased, he continued to hump her boot, his panties still around his knees, the butt pug still stretching his asshole, allowing himself to let go. His buttocks clenched and he moaned as he thrust his dick against the black leather, exploding with excitement.

The next moment Franziska brought him back to earth: "Look what a mess you've made." Her hand pointed to the milky trickles that crawled thick and dripping down her boot. "Get rid of it! And don't let it drip on the floor!"

Get rid of it? How could he do that? But he knew what she meant, he knew exactly what she meant. Yet he was shocked at the thought All lust had disappeared from him, as usual for a man. After a more conventional sexual experience there was some leisurely stroking and then relaxed falling asleep, nothing more. This was not vanilla sex. One of the thick drops was already almost down to the sole, he would regret his idleness in watching it fall. Hesitantly he approached to face her foot, struggling to balance, since he could not support himself with his cuffed hands, and reluctantly he dabbed the whitish slime with the tongue. For the first time in his life he tasted sperm. It wasn't so disgusting at all, salty with a hint of sweetness. Swallowing it was less difficult than expected. Which was a good thing, because he had to dab on the next trickle, which had almost reached the edge With diminishing shyness he licked everything away until no trace of his sperm was left on the damp leather. His mouth felt sticky and as if he couldn't get enough of it, his tongue slipped over salty lips.

Franziska smiled suggestively, as if the boot were erogenous for her. "You really did that neatly. Don't you want to thank me?"

"Yes, my lady, I thank you."

"And for what?"

"For allowing me to climax... and for allowing me to taste it. You are a very good mistress to me."

She told him to get up, to get close to her chair. Her hand reached for his limp penis and suddenly she bent down, enclosed him with her lips and sucked him into her mouth. Once, twice she sucked on him, then she released him again, sank back into the cushion and smiled coyly in a way he had not seen her before. "Somebody had to clean it, too." One could almost have thought that she was finally content, at least she pulled a small key out of a pocket of her jeans and freed him from his handcuffs. It was high time, because he urgently had to go to the toilet.

As they had taught him, he left the door open behind him and knelt down in front of the toilet bowl, watched by both women who had accompanied him to the bathroom. When he straightened up again, he was finally allowed to pull up the string that had clung to his knees all the time with exemplary perseverance, and remove the plug. He washed it off under the tap, then rubbed it dry with a red towel. The women had already thought about where to store it: in the rectangular blue tin can that stood on the microwave. The black tube also found its place in it, then he closed the lid and hoped that no prying eyes would ever peer into it.

The slave was no longer needed today; the slave could go. Both women smiled lovingly at him as he said goodbye, then he peered out attentively and scurried silently through the stairwell moments later, as he had come, but plus a few new experiences. This evening he would probably never forget, so he assumed anyway...