The Companion Pt. 03
I felt out of sorts wondering if I should start preparing us dinner as lunch had come and Saturday night couldn't arrive any faster. Mistress Sylvia went to nap and after doing the kitchen I dressed and did yard work. It wouldn't be long I thought before I'd be raking leaves. Mistress was right; the days were getting cooler. I enjoyed yard work and gardening, but liked the break winter offered each year.
She answered, "A glass of hot tea."
"A foot rub, Mistress Sylvia?"
I didn't answer because there was no need to. I moved into the kitchen and waited for the water to heat up.
"I'm about to take a shower Mistress."
"Yes, Mistress Sylvia."
"Much better, Frances. The water is boiling."
"Thank you, Frances. That will be all. After you shower you had better nap. I've made dinner reservations for us at seven. Wear a suit."
Dinner and dancing afterwards were very enjoyable, but it was how our evening ended that was really memorable. She had been the dominant half all evening. She called me Frances, ordered our meals, even made it a point to remind our waiter I was her date, not the other way around. When we were dancing she was the one who told me she wanted to dance to a different song. She's a very good dancer and I've got two left feet. It wasn't long before she was looking at others on the dance floor and seeing who was good and who wasn't.
They were a nice couple. When he introduced himself as John I immediately wondered if he was the John she had been seeing, His wife's name was Joan. We exchanged pleasantries and Sylvia ordered a round of drinks. It became clear he was not the John because he was not widowed. He did turn out to be a very good dancer and soon Sylvia and John were spending more time dancing than sitting with us.
She did comment on how good they looked together. I had to admit she was right and told her they made a nice dance couple. I was having a lot of sexual thoughts in my head sparked by Joan's stream of comments and the liquor and his name being John. His mastery on the dance floor, and the intimate way he held her as they danced to slow songs made me imagine what the two of them would look like in bed. John was a ruggedly handsome older man, tall, broad shouldered, his black hair streaked with grey. I'm sure he was quite the ladies' man when he was young,
John said he hoped he could get in a few more dances and Sylvia agreed. Before we parted ways, Joan and Sylvia exchanged phone numbers. She said she would invite Sylvia over. There was an excited look on her face when Sylvia said she would love to come over. John and I shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, but there was no shared connection. I got the same feeling when I said goodbye to Joan; the two of them weren't interested in me, but Sylvia. Sylvia and Joan exchanged kisses on the cheek and hugs, but it was John who fully embraced her, thanked her for making their evening more enjoyable, and kissed her full on the lips. She pursed her lips so it wasn't like she didn't want to be kissed.
It wasn't long before she and I were naked. Normally she assumed a more submissive role, laying on her back as I knelt or lay between her legs and licked her, but that night she had me on my back and rode my face.
She rested her head on my chest and made no move for a few minutes. I thought maybe I wasn't going to cum and she would drift off to sleep, but she didn't.
I teased her there was no pleasing her.
"It's no big deal. It passed."
"What did you think of them?" I asked.
She lifted her head up and looked at me, "Maybe one Friday night you can drop me off, then pick me up."
She changed the conversation, "I've had my turn and now it's yours Frances. This is hard for me to ask so I am going to be direct. I really enjoy doing what I do to you, but would you mind giving yourself an enema before we start. Everything is in the bathroom."
"Just follow the instructions. While you get ready I'm going to get ready."
She was in bed and under the covers, but she had the covers pulled up and a towel down where she wanted me to lay.
I got in bed. She told me to pull the covers over us as she was cold. We were on our sides. She caressed the side of my face and said, "I love you Frances."
She brought her lips to mine and we started kissing. It was when I pulled her body close to mine I felt something foreign poking my midsection.
I reached between us as I hadn't grasped what was poking me. I quickly realized It was a fake cock.
She calmly replied, "Yes, I am."
"I'm not a man Frances. It will fit. You said you'd let me dominate you."
I didn't resist when she pushed me on my back and got on top and when she pressed her mouth to mine I opened my mouth and my tongue responded to hers.
When she ended our kiss she looked me in the eye and asked, "Scared?"
"That's not why you're scared, Frances. I think you're scared because deep down you want it. You're afraid you'll like it a lot."
"I was scared, but I trusted you. Remember how dry I was? You went down on me and got me wet. I gave you my virginity and now I want you to give me yours. All I ask is that you trust me."
"That too. Hand me the lube."
I handed her the lube and watched as she coated the length of it. The head she applied a generous amount to I thankfully noted.
She squeezed a good amount onto my fingers.
I reached under my scrotum past my perineum and smeared my anus with lube.
I even told her I was ready.
She chuckled, "Frances, you are such a slut."
"It's big," I told her feeling very stretched, "I don't think it will fit."
Suddenly she was in me. It hurt.
Not as much discomfort I noted. I thought I can do this as she lay on top of me and we kissed.
I told her it was.
She was using her arms to hold her upper body off of me while her hips thrust in and out. She was driving me crazy. It was a completely different sensation than anything I had experienced before, Her fingers had felt good, but her fake cock felt a hundred times better.
She told me, "Look, Frances, you're cumming."
She didn't until she was sure my balls were empty.
She looked smug, "See, Frances, I told you you would like it. Thanks for trusting me."
Instead of telling me it was my turn to clean up she said she was ready to be eaten again. After she orgasmed she told me, "Now you can go clean up."
In my bed my erection kept me awake. I even tried to masturbate, but it was pointless as there was nothing left in me to ejaculate. I wondered if it had more to do with my age than with my prostate being completely emptied. How long I thought before I'd be able to climax again.
I made a half hearted protest, but she coaxed me to pose for half a dozen photos.
She said, "No."
"With another mistress."
I felt somewhat better, but worried if they shared it. Would my photo go viral? She assured me it was safe.
She said, "Poor Frances, it will be easier in the future."
We finished our breakfast, but before I could start on the dishes she cleared her throat.
She looked up from the newspaper, "You didn't ask to be excused and a mistress's bitch never answers with what, but with yes, Mistress or pardon me, Mistress or may I Mistress."
I then told her to quit calling me Frances and asked if she really saw me as her bitch.
She asked, "Finished?"
She smiled at me remembering to properly address her. My rebellion was anything but. Her impression of it was less rebellion and more temper tantrum. She said it had to do with being sexually frustrated. I had been drained of my ejaculate but I hadn't had the emotional release that comes from ejaculating.
She said, "You look cute when you're angry Frances. Now you may go do the dishes, but before you do I'd like a refill of my coffee."
She didn't even look up from the newspaper or thank me, but said, "A foot massage after you finish in the kitchen."
I finished up and went to shower, but not before asking Mistress Sylvia if she needed anything. She was writing out checks as she had long been our bill payer. It was common knowledge among our friends and family she controlled the purse strings and I received an allowance. She was I admitted much better at budgeting than I.
I put the water on to boil, but felt this desire to do more.
"Maybe later, Frances. Right now I need to focus. I'm balancing our checkbook so I need quiet."
She didn't look up, but said, "Why are you still dressed Frances?"
"Sylvia, Frances. I have a name Mistress Sylvia. I like imagining you walking around the house wearing nothing but your panties. Take off your clothes and put them in the washer. Then get me my tea."
I returned wearing only my panties.
I served her a mug of tea.
I headed to the basement, showered, and fell asleep wearing a fresh set of panties. I woke up, noted the time, and dressed. I came upstairs and waited for her.
She spotted a couple near our age, the wife as poor a dancer as me, the husband as good as Sylvia. She walked over to them. She talked to them and pointed to me. A minute later she waved at me to join them. She introduced me as Frances. She said they had spotted her on the dance floor and his wife who didn't enjoy dancing agreed Sylvia and her husband could dance while I kept her company.
Joan told me she loved to watch her husband dance. She pointed out how masterful he was on the dance floor. He was one of those big men who was light on his feet. I sensed a sexual undertone in her comments which surprised me coming from someone who didn't seem like a libertine. When a slow song began I thought John might come back and get his wife, but he stayed on the floor with Sylvia. I asked Joan if she wanted to dance, but she declined, telling me she preferred watching. I wondered if she had a leg injury preventing her from dancing. I wondered if she declined because there was no chemistry between us. We ended up sitting and watching as John held my wife very close on the dance floor.
When they did take a break Sylvia, Joan, and John conversed while I stayed quiet. Joan and Sylvia got along very well as did John and Sylvia. Joan praised her dancing which Sylvia ate up. It wasn't late, but Sylvia had a lot in store for me. She told me,"Frances, drink up. We need to get going soon."
My face went red. I was quiet on the drive home while Sylvia chattered away. She was in a very good mood and once we were home she became very sexually aggressive. As she hungrily kissed me she told me she had been wanting to do that all night. We headed to our bedroom and my jealous moment passed. I did wonder if John had primed the pump of the tigress I was now sharing increasingly heated kisses with.
She dismounted and as she snuggled up to me said, Thanks, Frances. You have no idea how badly I needed that. Nothing like a great orgasm to end the night."
She said she liked resting her head on my hairless chest, but she also missed toying with my hair, especially on my abdomen. I asked her if she wanted me to grow it back out, but she said for now she wanted me to keep shaving.
She laughed and said, "Not true. You pleased me a lot just now."
Always observant, she said, "I noticed you got jealous."
"Good. I was very proud of how you handled it. It will get easier. Maybe next time even exciting."
"I like them. They invited me to come over."
I felt a knot form in my throat as I croaked out, "Maybe."
"I've never given myself one."
I did follow the instructions, but it still took a while before I was cleaned out and felt clean. I noticed it felt strange being in what was now Sylvia's bathroom. I made sure I left the bathroom as clean as It was before I used it. My bowels felt empty and I exited the bathroom looking forward to one of Sylvia's handjobs as she fingered my ass.
She had lit a couple of candles so the setting was very romantic.
"I love you too Sylvia."
I broke from our kiss and said, "What the hell?"
"You're not thinking of putting that in me are you?"
"Sylvia, I'm not gay. Besides it's really big. I just don't know."
"But I didn't think it meant this."
I could feel her fake cock laying on my abdomen. My penis was flaccid and getting smaller.
"Yes, it's really big."
"Then why am I soft."
"And say yes," I added.
I spotted it on the nightstand. She sat back on her haunches, the dildo sticking out, looking even bigger.
"Give me your hand," she said.
"Get yourself ready."
I hadn't put up much of a fight. My legs were open and my feet flat on the bed.
She took her cock and maneuvered it into position, the head resting against my bottom. She moved it around making sure she was lined up with my rosebud. I brought my knees up making it easier for her.
She pushed against me slowly, withdrew, then did it again and again. I think she realized she had to be careful as her cock wasn't real.
She ignored me and pushed. I felt my sphincter stretching wondering if it would tear.
She withdrew but didn't exit my bottom but slid its length back in me.
During a pause in our kisses as she stroked in and out of me she said, "Frances, I've loved you for a long time. I never thought my love for you could get any stronger, but it has. Is it feeling better?"
She smiled. I smiled back and told her to fuck me. My penis remained soft, but deep inside of me her cock was hitting a sweet spot which I assumed was my prostate. I moved my bottom wanting to prolong the rubbing sensation of her manhood against my prostate.
My climax began, but it was different than any I had ever experienced because my penis was soft and there were no contractions, no steams of ejaculate, just a constant flow from my penis onto my pubis. She noticed I was cumming before I did. I just wanted her to keep rubbing the same spot inside of me.
"I am. Don't stop."
"Wow, I had no idea."
She pulled out of me and I noticed how sore I was. My anus felt swollen as I ran my fingertips against it. She got up and headed to the bathroom returning a few minutes later without her harness.
We got in bed and snuggled. What a night I thought. My climax left me drained, but I wasn't satiated. It was like enjoying a really good meal and having to stop before you were full. My erection returned, poking Sylvia's bottom. She ground herself against it, but said, "I'm tired." She quickly fell asleep, but not before reminding me to make my way to my bed as she needed a restful sleep.
Sunday I woke up and after bringing the newspaper inside I stripped down to my panties. Sylvia was so pleased when she walked into the kitchen and spotted me in a pair of lavender panties and nothing else that she picked up her phone and took a picture of me.
Over breakfast she shared them with me. She asked me which one I liked best. I asked her why. She said because she wanted to share it with someone. I asked, "John?"
I thought, "Do they really exist? I thought she was making them up. She's really talking to other women about us?"
I asked her who these other mistresses were. She changed the subject and asked how I felt that morning. I told her I felt pretty good, but wasn't looking forward to having a bowel movement.
I answered, "Easy for you to say."
I asked, "What?"
Red in the face and feeling a bit angry and thinking I had had enough of this game I found myself sarcastically apologizing for my behavior. She remained quite calm even though she later told me she was seething inside. She remembered advice from one of the women she corresponded with who told her to never discipline in anger as it was much too easy to damage their pets.
I was on a roll and she let me continue uninterrupted.
I said, "I am Mistress Sylvia."
I was still shaking.
I answered, "Yes, Mistress Sylvia," and after I poured her a fresh cup of coffee I asked her if she needed anything else.