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.

Beth has one like

a green to match the gem, fix on it. Her lips

leave a sub

believe I gave you an instruction. I

to pull down her panties. I retrieve them from the floor, stuffing them in my pocket. “You won’t need those

lie

see his face, Richard’s mouth is twitching. I

Go on then…

hitch your

in several installments, each tug raising it to reveal an

inhaling. “Good girl, Charlotte. Your Master and I will see that you

in, meeting Richard’s eye. “But not until later.” He grins, then smothers

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

stands, scraping back his seat with an unnecessary amount of noise. Charlotte’s face turned away, she can’t see him walk to the grocery cupboard, but she surely hears the clip of his shoes on

“Olive oil, James?”

yes. Thank

ear, but still behind

give you permission to

her face back to the tabletop.

continue my ‘hand-washing’ for a few seconds more, then rub the oil over the plug, again, holding my hands close to her face, making the sound louder than necessary. “Move your hands. Grip the edge

quivering. Her pussy is flushing redder than her face and her

myself

a finger

… Yet…

is as

How far can I wind

rear end, I move around the table, back into Charlotte’s field of vision, displaying

She slants her gaze up

“Yes, all day…”

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 her the

*****

Charlotte

cheeks, opening me. Something chilly presses

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

trickling between my buttocks. Fingers probe, then rub, lubricating delicate

flexes at the wrist, and inexorably, something pushes at me to the rear. “On our last occasion downstairs,” he says, “I thought Richard’s gift rather suited you.