Читать книгу The Mistresses Next Door - Episode 1 - Emanuel J. - Страница 7

A very fruitful shopping trip

There was much to learn for his mistresses and so he had the next evenings off. He had no desire to be free, would much rather have remained attentively at their service, but could not act on this. He kept it to himself too well educated already to start such a discussion with them. And he could still be a slave, if only in his thoughts and in his messages. Since he could no longer concentrate on his stories, they had all become alien to him, he began to process his experiences into a novel, to make them accessible to the whole world and to preserve them for future generations, or something like that. Anyway, it gave him much joy to write down his adventures, almost as much as the experiences themselves.

Nevertheless he missed his mistresses very much. This time at least he felt some security. On Tuesday evening he wrote Franziska a text message, as she had ordered. Although it was considered unnecessarily formal in modern communication, he paid close attention to grammatical niceties:

My dear Mistress Franziska, I think of you frequently and fondly. Your wish is my command; I remain faithfully at your disposal. Your slave Daniel.

And of course, she also received a message with similar content the following day. Few words that conveyed deep feelings. He happily read her answers, in the first of which she wrote that her boot was beautifully clean and that she liked to think of him, while in the second she said on Wednesday evening that she was looking forward to seeing him again as a devoted slave tomorrow evening at nine o'clock. Oh, my, tomorrow again. His heart pounded with excitement at the thought. He glowed inside with anticipation, fortunately not so much as to endanger the imposed command of abstinence. He floated in a carefree state. Actually, he hadn't felt this good in a long time.

In the evening Sascha came to visit us and of course could not refrain from asking about the mistress, with a broad grin on his face . Daniel, waved his questions away evasively, unwilling to reveal any of it again. Sascha wouldn't believe it, after all, which was better anyway. It was now inexplicable to him that he had been able to divulge his secret so easily at the last meeting, as though under the influence of a truth serum. There would be no more such slip-ups. His two lives remained strictly separated, one of which, the "normal" one, took place at the very edge of society, while the other, beyond all borders, lay in a wide rugged country in which hardly anyone could be seen (he permitted himself the odd Nietzsche paraphrase).

A double life. He regretted the lie of his silence. But he was no hero. The truth would have seemed as strange as fiction, for it would have seemed inappropriate for him to sit here in the armchair and drink wine instead of serving it to his mistresses with a submissive curtsey and watching them drink. That, he suspected, would have been difficult for Sasha to understand.

*

As Thursday evening approached, the more pressing the question of what he should wear became. There was no order for it, no clue, nothing. Doing what? Appear in his normal clothes? This could have quite painful consequences and was also quite unattractive. So, in lingerie? How would he know that the two of them really expected that from him today? What if they didn't and he still showed up? Well, then he had to reckon with mocking remarks. But how much need he worry about that? He knew exactly what they were asking of him, and Franziska had also written it very clearly in her text, saying that she was looking forward to seeing him as a devoted slave. And since it had long been clear that he was not wearing any men's clothing, he was able to stop all his superfluous considerations immediately.

Punctually at nine o'clock he scampered across the stairwell in his ballet shoes, all dressed in black with his corselette, fishnet stockings and thong. He announced himself with a short bell and quickly slipped into the hallway like a fleeing hare into the apartment, not glimpsed by a stranger's gaze, thank God. Ghostly quiet the apartment, nobody here, nothing moving, very strange. Only the door to Isabel's room was half open, yellow light fell out and from inside her voice was heard. "Franziska's in the shower. Come in here."

Carefully, as if she could be harmed by his gaze, he entered. She sat at the table in front of her laptop, dressed in a black knee-length skirt and a pink top. Half her head was turned to him and she looked at him smiling. "You look pretty. But won't you say hello to me? "Oh. Of course, I do. Only he couldn't get to her because she turned back to the laptop. And yet he came close to her when he ... His hesitation lasted only briefly, then he crawled under the table from the side and tenderly kissed the red lacquered toenails, but he immediately had to lift his head again, as she slipped out of her brown sandals - and her naked foot approached his lips. Oh. She hadn't let him do that yet. He greedily sucked her toes into his mouth, sucked on them, let his tongue glide over the instep and sole, devotedly licked the tender skin and then devoted himself to her other foot with the same tenderness.

Franziska's voice startled him. "He seems to really love your feet." She was standing in the middle of the room without him noticing her coming.

"Yes. And I love that he loves them," Isabel said.

But now he had to let go of her to crawl to his mistress, who was wearing elegant blue shoes with small heels, a pair of jeans (his gaze hadn't come any further up yet), and even down here still smelling faintly of her perfume. He had to straighten up and go to the kitchen with her, followed by Isabel, after she had saved everything and closed her laptop.

Some dishes were waiting for him, just a few glasses, coffee cups, two small plates and some cutlery, apparently the two had 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. Wearing a windbreaker, a long skirt, and a sweater, she had become a bit chubby and had cut the dark hair that had once been shoulder-length short. She didn't look too good, a little haggard, a little sad, as if she had problems with her job or her boyfriend or husband, or something else.

And above all, it was a very unfavourable moment for an encounter with her (or anyone else). He willed himself not to act flustered. "Oh, I'm alright."

Without asking (and without really being interested) he learned what was troubling her: she had worked for a bank and had now been laid off, along with many other colleagues in these times of banking crisis. Times were hard (somehow they always were) and in half a year their entitlement to unemployment benefit expired. If she hadn't found a new job by then, the problems really started. Irritated, her gaze fell on the tiny gap between the hem of his jeans and the brown shoes, from which the white fishnet stockings peeked. Had he at least been allowed to put on the black ones, that probably would have been less conspicuous. But they would have required a garter belt, which would have caused other problems... It wasn't right to have these thoughts in Edith's presence. Immediately she raised her eyes again, said nothing about it and did not ask, but acted as if she had not seen anything.

Before she could find out what he was up to, Franziska suddenly stood next to him, dressed in jeans, a blue sweater, and a black blazer. She breathed a kiss on his cheek and he introduced the two women, suppressing a sigh as the plug shifted inside him and his cock stiffened a little against his pants. Knowingly, Franziska smiled at him and again Edith gave him a look. Then she said that she was in a hurry, waved to them and bustled away. It was probably better not to know what she was thinking.

For a moment Franziska’s eyes followed Edith, then she grabbed Daniel's hand and looked him in the eye. "Looks like you did what I told you to do."

"Yeah, sure..." She didn't want to get over his lips, the humble address that would have sounded terribly anachronistic, inappropriate, almost ridiculous here in the grey daylight, between all the busy and presumably normal people. Or was it? He saw Franziska cock her head, as though confused. He knew that he could not afford such concerns, and muffled his voice to a whisper. "Of course... my mistress." He listened to his words in amazement. No, it was anything but natural to walk around here in the middle of town with a plug in your ass.

But he preferred not to correct himself, because she was already looking at him sceptically enough. "That came at the last minute." Her gaze wandered to the nearby department store. "But come on, let's get you dressed."

In there, he said, they would certainly not find anything suitable, and much to his amazement she even listened to him. She asked where it was better to go shopping and, to his even greater astonishment, followed him through the pedestrian zone without contradiction after his explanation. He took the steps very cautiously, concentrating on keeping his feelings at least halfway in check. He fervently hoped not to meet any more former schoolmates or acquaintances, and his hope was fulfilled. After several hours and countless kilometres, they reached the department store he had been into by himself that stressful day, untroubled by further senseless conversations.

Motionless he rode up the escalators, calm as anything. It struck him that no warmth crept into his cheeks, as if Franziska's presence would protect him. Although there were some customers in the lingerie department, a middle-aged blonde saleswoman approached, ready to help, but fortunately Franziska got rid of her and she trotted off again, bored, to look for another victim. Searching, Franziska's gaze wandered over the corselets, which were hung close to each other, but which she avoided as though they might sting.

From the corner of his eye he saw a petite dark-haired woman, certainly well over forty, presenting a white negligee to her strong short-haired companion, spread out with both hands and held in front of her breast, which looked very submissive. He shook his head and she showed him another negligee in exactly the same way.

Franziska also looked over to the two with interest. "Looks like there's some parenting going on there, too. - So you see how a good slave presents such a thing, and a good slave as well. " She pointed to a corselette in white. "Let me see that.“

The idea that Franziska might give him cover was a laughable misapprehension. Within a few moments his cheeks began to glow. But he knew what he was going to get if he didn't follow orders. Tunnel vision. He saw nothing around him anymore, only the white corselet, which he took from the rail it hung on and spread out with both hands on his chest for her approval. He wished the ground would swallow him. Now his role was revealed to every casual passer-by, as well as to the dark-haired woman. Was she also filled with some toy, did she also struggle for control? Franziska didn't like the white very much. He had to hang it up again and show her one in pink instead. Because she thought it was pretty and it was the right size, it remained in his hand as he followed her over to the thongs. Only temporarily he was allowed to put it away to have his hands free to show her the thongs, which he had to hold out for her in the uncommonly submissive way, which was now normal for him. She let some of them show her off until she had chosen one in red and one in pink.

In the meantime, the dark-haired woman and her companion, who was probably her master, had arrived at the suspender belts, for which she did not lack the necessary hips. For a moment, her gaze met Daniel’s. She looked at him in amazement, as if she could not believe that there was another person in her role, and that it was even a man who presented lingerie submissively, in the self-same way was probably completely incomprehensible to her. Her pretty face was sensually transfigured, at least that's what he thought he saw in it, yes, but it was quite possible that something stirring was stuck somewhere in her. Or maybe he just imagined it.

Franziska chose a black bra for him and two negligees, one in black and one in red. Of course, it was he who had to carry all the things to the till, thoughtfully eyed by the blonde saleswoman, who could almost be seen imagining her husband similarly under the thumb, while the older cashier's gaze burned him disapprovingly. He pretended that he did not exist, while Franziska covered the sum of over two hundred euros with her card. She really didn't seem to be short of money. On the way to the escalator, he saw the dark-haired woman with a black corset in her hand going to the changing rooms accompanied by her companion, and breathed a sigh of relief as he thanked heaven that Franziska hadn't come up with the idea of chasing him in there. But that, he assured himself confidently, even she would not dare.

But it was not the moment to breathe a sigh of relief, he realized, as he stalked towards Wilhelmsplatz with the full shopping bag in his left hand and Franziska's hand in his right. To his horror, she turned suddenly into the side street with the small stocking shop where he had been the other day. The saleswoman was wearing a blue suit today and looked no less old-fashioned than last time. Franziska smiled amicably at her and waited patiently until she had advised a customer, a woman of about thirty, who looked friendly but resolute, almost bossy. Her mid-length hair was peroxide blonde and she was strong, almost plump of figure, a lush structure to the body. For a short time, her gaze lingered on his stockings and a knowing smile played on the sensual full lips. She bought two pairs of tights, one skin-coloured and one white pair, stuffed them into her pocket and strutted out on the high heels of her black knee-high boots with a smile of solidarity for the saleswoman and Franziska. Meanwhile Daniel was anxious to contain himself in the face of the butt plug’s persistent stimulation.

He was briefly examined by the saleswoman, then she turned to Franziska. "I'm glad you brought him. Was he a good boy?"

What? Did she know Franziska? Again, his cheeks began to glow.

"Yes, he's turned out alright. He's just a little embarrassed. That won't go away." Somehow it sounded like she was talking about her puppy. "And he's pretty horny, too, which probably won't change a bit." Franziska grazed him with a quick glance. "Why don't you tell her what's upsetting you right now?"

What? She required that revelation right now?

Her flat hand smacked his cheek before he knew what was happening to him. "Will you do as I tell you?"

He lowered his eyelids in consternation. She had actually slapped him in the face in front of that strange woman, as though he were a naughty child. And now he was supposed to report on something that nobody was supposed to know? So, that she wouldn't knock another one off him, he turned his eyes towards the saleswoman, without seeing her, and breathed out the words bashfully. "I have a plug inside of me..."

"Oh, really?" The saleswoman smiled sympathetically. "Then it's no wonder that you lose your composure." Her last words were heard by a young woman who entered the shop with a shy smile, not understanding what was happening here (Daniel hoped, at least). While her eyes wandered over the range of white stockings, Franziska was given two pairs of red fishnet stockings, one stay-up, the other requiring garters and both in size five. "I'm curious to see how the red suits him," she said, while the credit card was inserted into the reader and he hid the two packs in the bag with the lingerie.

Confused, the young woman looked across, glimpsing the white stockings between his shoe and the hem of his pants. I guess there was no hiding them from anyone. Franziska exchanged a friendly smile with the saleswoman and pulled him by the hand out onto the street, while behind them a discussion began about whether one should wear stockings under a bridal gown or stay-ups.

On the short walk to Wilhelmsplatz Franziska looked at him sideways. "It seems really hard for you to admit your role."

He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "But it doesn't have to be the whole city."

She smiled understandingly. "The whole town it really is not. But you don't have to be too embarrassed. Stand by what you do and long for. You can look at lingerie without worrying that it’s going to bite you, no one cares. Besides, it turns you on, doesn't it?"

"Well, at most a little bit..."

"What do you call me?"

"Yes, my mistress, it turns me on." The excitement tingled deep inside him. Oh, yeah, it turned him on more than anything in the world. He closed his hand more tightly around hers and lowered his voice still more. "I love you, my lady. You know very well how to deal with me..."

She practiced modesty. "Somebody's got to make your dreams come true..." Then she clearly remembered one of the doctrines of the BDSM forums, which said that the mistress was never the facilitator of the slave’s desires, and she corrected herself. "Although it's not about that, of course, but about my ideas... Fortunately for you, these agree very nicely with your wishes..." They stood still for a red light. A long line of cars streamed by and they remained silent, wary of the listening ears nearby. Only when the traffic light switched to green and the crowd began to move did Franziska quietly continue, but now she had something else on her mind: "I'm curious to see what Isabel has to say about the red stockings. Sometimes she's a bit conservative... But you like serving her... you enjoy catering to her desires, don't you?“

"Yes, mistress, I like it very much... And I would love to do the same to you if you would allow me..."

He did not get an answer because the tram came rumbling and they squeezed in with a lot of other people. It would have been better to walk, but a longer walk in his condition was hardly to be expected. A moan escaped his lips as he raised his hand to the handle, and innocently he looked at the ceiling as if nothing had happened...