*****

Michael

James stands, his back to the fire, gazing into space. Charlotte enters dressed, not exactly provocatively but…

She’s touched up her make-up…

Bare feet…

The sweater she wears is warm enough for the weather, but low-cut, with a hint of cleavage. She glances down to me on the couch, then to him. “Master, are you busy with anything right now?”

He smiles, a casual expression. “Not particularly, Charlotte. What’s on your mind?”

She moves closer to him, looking up into his face, then she drops her head, looking down. Her hair, released from the usual ponytail hangs long and loose, swaying to her waist.

Lol!

Pretty transparent intentions…

My cock stirs…

How the fuck does she do that?

I set my book to one side. It wasn’t holding my attention anyway. Fun and frolics with my wife and my friend sounds much more promising. Then I shift my position a little; easing the pressure as my pants grow tight…

But James doesn’t react as I expect. “I’m a little tired, Charlotte.”

She moves close to him, laying her fingers on his chest, stroking downward over his shirt. She stops short of his belt, but her hands linger. “If you’re tired, Master, I could do most of the work. You can just lie back. I’ll…”

He lifts her hands away, kissing the fingers. “Later perhaps.”

Her postures changes. It’s subtle, but it’s there. What looked like submission turns to resignation. “Alright, Master.”

James… not in the mood?

… Not in the mood for Charlotte?

And now I think about it…

When was the last time he started something?

Charlotte rarely initiates sex or love-making with James, although she does with me….

Trying to be a good sub…

Yeah… right…

… Normally she waits for his signal…

Her Dom’s signal…

…. And goes along with whatever he has in mind…

When did he last start something?

I rack my brain…

Days?

Weeks?

I’d not realised…

… but she has…

What’s going on?

?

Charlotte?

he’s not falling out of love

No…

She’s his world….

What then?

?

Aaahhh…

Fucking obvious….

His daughter…

he suffering from

to hide

in the mood

Time to step in…

Reaching around I hold her wrists tugging them, none too gently, behind her back, then in a voice loud enough for James to hear. “Your Master expects you to be on your knees, not crawling up

breath catches. James’ eyes meet mine and

Pupils dilating…

That’s doing it…

follows her. “That’s better,” I say, backing off a step or two, giving him room

Charlotte,” I say, “before

still bowed, she nods, her hair swinging, hands moving from the flat of her thighs to the hem of her pullover. I beat her to it. Fisting one hand into her hair, I tug, raising her head,

buttons and no more. Slipping them open, she tugs filmy fabric away

take her by the arms again, locking them behind her and pull her backwards, deliberately unbalancing her. Then sitting on

by her face, but still loud enough for James to hear, “… a good

silence, but his eyes are black as he stands over her, legs akimbo, looking

… thankfully…

his pants are

her legs, raising her knees a little, but now I grab her at the back of the thighs, hooking an arm around each leg to spread her open.

tilts his chin,

top button of his shirt. “Michael, would you like me to restrain her?” He stands

hold her close, her face now resting against mine, and my own shaft, satisfyingly constrained by my jeans, sandwiched against

perhaps. I’m rather

He puts the

her pussy. It’s what I’m expecting him to do, but instead, he pulls up a footstool, sitting close by her, his own knees spread, leaning

where thigh meets vulva. A shudder runs through her and I crane to see. James’ gaze flicks to mine for

which normally lives hooked on the wall in the hallway.

“Can you see now?”

watch the reflection

of deep pink against marble skin and copper curls. James traces the delicate furrow of her inner thigh, his head tilting as he does so. It’s the most delicate of touches, the very tip of a finger, but her

through on the fine skin of her inner thigh, tracing a path from cleft to knee and back. Charlotte’s cheek

a drawer to return with something… several

set of controls. Another he offers up, wordless as he displays it to her; an egg. His voice is conversational. “How much

say, start it low and work upwards

“Sounds good to me.”

it hums in his hand. Reaching forward, he

against my hold. Waves pass through

through folds which grow more deeply red with every moment. Then, his wrist twisting, he slips it into her pussy, pressing in, nudging it past the inner-muscle and to her rising howls, pushing it

up a little more at the hip.” He reaches for his pocket again, this time extracting a

position, now biting down on my self-control with her

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