*****

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

who’s not in the

Time to step in…

then in

catches. James’ eyes meet mine and

Pupils dilating…

That’s doing it…

her shoulder, I press. “Down, madam.” As she drops, James’ gaze follows her. “That’s better,” I say, backing off a step or two, giving him room to move. He

Charlotte,” I say, “before your

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,

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 at the hip in the way that suits her so well, white

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 of the couch

her face, but still loud enough for James to hear, “… a good sub doesn’t make it difficult for her Master to have what is his. So

in silence, but his eyes are black as he stands over her, legs akimbo, looking down, every inch the Dominant.

… thankfully…

his pants are

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. As I expose her, the scent of her arousal, pungent and sharp-sweet swirls up.

his chin,

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

mine, and my own shaft, satisfyingly constrained by my jeans,

a while perhaps. I’m rather comfortable like

He puts

kneel in front of her and bury his face in 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 forward. His eyes

along the tender crease where thigh meets vulva. A shudder runs through her and I crane to see. James’ gaze flicks to mine for a moment

briskly returning with a mirror which normally lives hooked on the wall in the hallway. He sets it against the fireplace, gauging by eye, then adjusting its

“Can you see now?”

can, yes. Thank you, James.” And now I watch the reflection as he re-seats himself on

curls. James traces the delicate furrow of her inner thigh, his head tilting as he does so. It’s the most delicate of

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,

rummaging through a drawer to return with something…

wordless as he

it low and work upwards

“Sounds good to me.”

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

my arms at the first touch, arching back, writhing against my hold. Waves pass through her

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

you tilt her up a little more at the hip.” He reaches for his

now biting

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