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

fix on it. Her lips part

a sub

believe I gave you an instruction. I expect

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

face, blinking, then bends over the table to lie with

his face, Richard’s mouth is twitching.

Go on then…

“Charlotte, hitch your skirt up

installments, each tug raising it to reveal an inch or so more of

and I will

Richard’s eye. “But not until later.”

her ankles. “Legs wider, Charlotte. I’ll be giving you to Richard

face turned away, she can’t see him walk to the grocery cupboard, but she surely hears the clip of his shoes on the tiles, the click of

“Olive oil, James?”

yes. Thank you,

passes me the bottle. Pouring a little into my palm, I hold my hands close by her ear, but still behind her. Rubbing my hands together, I spread the oil over my skin, squeezing it between my fingers with a squishing sound. She starts to turn

you

her face back

more, then rub the oil over the plug, again, holding my hands close to her face, making the sound louder than necessary.

quivering. Her pussy is flushing redder than her face

award myself ten Dom

a finger on

… Yet…

dancing. Charlotte’s condition is as obvious to him as to me: her arousal, her heightened senses, her

can I wind her

I move around the table, back into Charlotte’s field of vision, displaying the oiled plug.

slants her gaze up

“Yes, all day…”

arm is moving. I think he’s stroking her labia… But I slam a hand

*****

Charlotte

hands are peeling apart my butt cheeks, opening me. Something

over me, close by my face, my Master speaks, his voice hissing, the hardness of his

buttocks. Fingers probe, then

Master’s arm swivels at the shoulder, flexes at the wrist, and inexorably, something pushes at me to the rear. “On our last occasion downstairs,” he says, “I