Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Chapter 17

*****

 

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?

falling out of

No…

She’s his world….

What then?

?

Aaahhh…

Fucking obvious….

His daughter…

he suffering from

to hide

who’s not in the

Time to step in…

back, then in a voice loud enough

eyes meet mine and

Pupils dilating…

That’s doing it…

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

should be naked, Charlotte,” I say,

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, lifting her

from the hem, up and over her head. She’s not wearing a bra and her skirt I now realise, is a wrap-around, held in place with a couple of buttons and no more. Slipping them open, she tugs filmy fabric away leaving herself wearing only panties, cut high

them down. “Off.” As she slips them down, kicking them off I take her by the arms again, locking them behind her and pull her backwards, deliberately unbalancing her. Then sitting on the edge

enough for James to hear, “… a good sub doesn’t make it difficult for her Master to have what is

are black as he stands over her, legs akimbo, looking

… thankfully…

his pants

grab her at the back of the thighs, hooking an arm around each leg to

tilts his chin,

of his shirt. “Michael, would you like me to restrain her?” He stands with the tie offered, taut,

her close, her face now resting against mine, and my own shaft,

while perhaps. I’m rather comfortable

He puts the tie to one

expecting him to do, but instead, he pulls

runs through her and I crane to see. James’ gaze flicks to mine

stands, briskly leaving the room, then just as briskly returning with a mirror which normally lives hooked on the wall in the hallway. He sets it against the fireplace, gauging

“Can you see now?”

you, James.” And now I watch the reflection

copper curls. James traces the delicate furrow of her

mirror, I tighten my grip on her as he repeats the movement, this time on the other side, then follows through on the fine skin of her inner thigh, tracing a path from

a drawer to return with something… several somethings… concealed in his

places one on a couch arm; a set of controls. Another he offers up, wordless as he displays it to her; an egg. His voice is conversational. “How much power do you think,

start it low and work

“Sounds good to me.”

quietly, it hums in his hand. Reaching forward, he traces it over her skin, caressing her cheek with it, then

in my arms at the first touch, arching back, writhing against my hold. Waves pass through her body, massaging my sandwiched cock, sending my blood-pressure through

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 home with

a little more at the hip.” He reaches for his

her, jerking her to a new position, now biting down

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