Hot Revenge Box Set 4

James

Richard sips the last of his breakfast coffee, craning his neck to see that the women are out of the room. “I think we can agree that having Kirstie’s wedding crop up so conveniently is a blessing. Under the circumstances, what I think we should do, is to try to return to some kind of normality. Yes, Mitch is expecting a baby. Yes, the father is… Well… What can we say about Klempner? But a normal life, so far as we can create that, will be the best option, not just for Mitch, but for Charlotte and Elizabeth too.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I’ll encourage Charlotte and Mitch to throw themselves into helping Kirstie. I’m sure you’ll do the same with Beth. Any other suggestions?”

He sips again. “I think Charlotte suffered from a touch of post-partum depression after Cara was born…” He cocks an eye at me…

“Yes, I agree. She wasn’t herself, but she’s come out of it now. Or at least, is coming out of it.”

Richard nods. “It’s common enough in women after all, and certainly very understandable given the events surrounding the birth. But you believe it is resolving itself?”

“I’d say so yes. Charlotte has been much improved the last few weeks. By which I mean, her worries have related to outside concerns such as the state of her mother’s mind, looking after Cara, helping Beth with Adam. She’s not been turning inward. And as you say, Kirstie and Ryan dropping in on us like that was a tremendous help. In any case…”

I pause, raising a finger as I hear, out in the hall, the foot-tread of my beloved wife and sub…

Eavesdropping?

“… In any case, I believe we settled on a cure…” I raise my voice. “Charlotte, could you come in here for a moment, please.”

A brief shuffling sound and she pokes her head around the door. “Master?”

“Charlotte, Richard here presented you a gift some weeks ago. How much use have you given it?”

Richard looks briefly away then, looking back, with sucked-in cheeks, pastes on a bland expression. Charlotte pinks up, points of colour pricking at her cheeks.

My question was rhetorical. I already know the answer. Charlotte has not used Richard’s ‘gift’ at all since the first night he presented it to her during an episode of ‘family play’. I know this because I pocketed it at the end of that evening.

And in fact, I have it in my pocket now.

But I see no reason to tell her that.

“Master?” She sucks at her lower lip, her gaze darting between me and Richard.

“Charlotte, remove your panties and bend over the table.”

She blinks, looking one way and the other around the kitchen. “What? Here? Now?”

“Yes, here. And now. Remove your panties and bend over the breakfast table. I do not expect to have to repeat myself.” I slide cups and plates to one side to underline my point. Richard, his face straighter than a surveyor’s line, clears the coffee pot and milk jug from the table, then sits, legs crossed at the knee, one arm draped over the back of his chair.

I fish the plug from my pocket, holding it between thumb and forefinger, displaying it to Charlotte. It’s rather attractive, with a silvered finished and set with a gemstone; emerald green: always a good colour on a red-haired woman.

Richard chose well.

if Beth has one

eyes, a green to match the gem, fix on it. Her lips part and her breathing is

leave a sub

I gave you an instruction. I

panties. I retrieve them from the floor, stuffing them in my

to lie with her palms flat to the top, one

she can’t see his face, Richard’s mouth is twitching. I flash brows

Go on then…

hitch your skirt

what he’s asking. Nonetheless, she slides hands behind herself, tugging up her skirt. It hitches up in several installments, each tug raising it to reveal an inch or so more of thigh, then buttock. As

and I will see that you receive the reward

later.” He grins, then smothers his smile before she

you

me a wink, then stands, scraping back his seat with an unnecessary amount of noise. Charlotte’s face turned away, she can’t see him walk to

“Olive oil, James?”

yes. Thank

line of sight as he passes me the bottle. Pouring a little into my palm, I hold my hands close by her ear, but still behind her.

you permission

drops her face back to the tabletop.

my hands close to her face, making the sound louder than necessary. “Move your hands. Grip the

is flushing redder than her face and her

award myself ten

a

… Yet…

back in his seat again, eyes dancing. Charlotte’s condition is as obvious to him as to me: her arousal, her heightened senses, her

can

around the table, back into Charlotte’s field of vision, displaying

her gaze up

“Yes, all day…”

Richard’s arm is moving. I think he’s stroking her labia… But I slam a hand down to her wrists, pinning her to the table. “You were not invited to move.” I show

*****

Charlotte

hands are peeling apart my butt cheeks,

speaks, his voice hissing, the hardness of his groin pressing to my

my buttocks. Fingers probe, then rub, lubricating delicate skin. Briefly,

at me to the rear. “On our last occasion downstairs,” he says, “I thought Richard’s gift rather suited you. I’ve never really favoured butt-plugs as jewellery, but perhaps I was