Chianti squatted happily over Jocelyn's perspiring face as the older woman strained to fully get her tongue in Chianti's asshole.
"Faster, that's right, Jocelyn. You have to rim me in and out, up and down, there you go, and now to my cunt, hon."
Jocelyn groaned and Chianti looked down, wincing slightly. Jocelyn was perhaps not Chianti's most enticing client, but she did have the moolah.
The rule was, if Jocelyn could lick Chianti to three orgasms, and completely clean the shit and dingleberries out of Chianti's rear passage, Jocelyn would be allowed to rub her extended and frankly quite loose fifty-six year old vagina up and down the leg of Chianti's dining room table, like a dog, until she had a climax.
Last week, Jocelyn's tongue went dry, mid-lick, and Chianti had been so annoyed, she'd sewed Jocelyn's vaginal lips together and whipped Jocelyn's nipples and rear with a braided cat o' nine tails she'd purchased from some Ebay freak in Melbourne, Australia.
Jocelyn loved visiting Chianti, and made a pile writing code or some damn thing. She could afford the weekly $800 visits and of course that didn't include the cost of the props. One week it had been fire ants and honey for Jocelyn's yum-yum, and on another occasion, when Jocelyn hadn't made the cunillingus grade, she'd been chained to a giant block of ice in the cellar.
Then, of course was when Chianti had tossed lit matches at Jocelyn as Jocelyn danced a miserable jig in Chianti's tool shed.
Now, Jocelyn was breathing through her nose, and Chianti had to admit, was doing a fairly good job of clitoris stimulation.
Chianti gazed distastefully down at Jocelyn's rotund belly, and the jungle that comprised a pussy cover. And of course Jocelyn didn't shave her legs.
You'd think Jocelyn was a butch lesbian, but she was a married to another computer person, a male, and they were big shots in the Mormon temple. It had to be assumed that Jocelyn and her husband didn't do the deed anymore.
Finally, Chianti faked an orgasm, she really needed to get on with her day.
Jocelyn crawled out from under Chianti, and Chianti pointed dismissively at a pair of scissors on the table, and Jocelyn cut the top strand of licorice, (that was what worked best in tying up a sensitive vagina.) and unstrung herself.
Then Jocelyn trundled over to the dining room table where she rubbed up and down the table until she finally quivered.
"Now lick your juices off the table, and before you go, lick the mud off my galoshes, they're in the hallway."
"Yes, Miss Chianti."
Fortunately, Chianti's foyer had a curtain that shut it off from the living room.
Blessedly, Chianti didn't have to look at Jocelyn any more. Chianti got up and jumped in the shower, and then changed into a snug white turtleneck and a vivid red miniskirt.
Chianti touched up her lips to match the skirt, and put her hair up, so that with the strawberry highlights a hair-stylist slave had put in, made Chianti slightly resemble Christina Hendricks from the "Mad Men" show.
Then Chianti sat and read a Batman graphic novel, her secret shame, until the doorbell rang again.
Chianti took a quick, satisfied gander into the hall mirror. She smiled, immensely pleased with herself.
"It's all about the inside-what bullshit!"
Chianti went to the door and opened it.
"Hello, Austin."
"Hello, Miss Chianti." Austin was an emaciated looking mortician, and thus, Chianti thought, must be good at his job. You had to cheer up after losing a loved one, seeing such a wretched creature, she thought.
Chianti led Austin in, and sat down on the couch breathing slightly to make her breasts shake. Chianti then took a big, black hairbrush, made of oak, and put it on her lap, and nodded.
Austin gulped, and quickly stripped.
Chianti beckoned, smiling, and Austin came a little closer, and she viewed his chastity cage. Chianti used her deft fingers to unlock the cage, which she dropped on the table.
"How did your week go, Austin? It's nice you have a cage and can shower and clean yourself off, so I don't have to wash off all the stinky, like I do with my chastity-tube clients."
Austin nodded, clearing his throat again. "Yes, it's fun. I do get kind of messed up, trying to poke my dick through the bars, 'cos I get so horny."
"You need more to do in your off time. Like your lines."
"I Fedexed them to you, ma'am, with my tribute for this week. A thousand lines for the week, from Virgil's Aenid."
"I think we're going to double them. Two thousand by next Monday. Then you won't be worrying your little pud so much."
Austin looked close to tears. Two thousand was a lot.
Chianti began stroking Austin's cock. She ran her red nails up and down his stiffening organ and reached up and stroked Austin's cheek at the same time.
"How's the funeral director business?"
"Well, Miss Chianti, I'm not a director, I'm an embalmer."
"Amazing that you can afford to see me once a week."
"I sell my embalming fluid to junkies sometimes."
"That is a very creative way to do things, I must say."
"Yes, it's all about seeing you as much as possible."
"Tell me about your work. Can you restore destroyed faces? I understand sometimes undertakes re-attach noses with bubble gum."
Chianti began flicking Austin's burgeoning cock with her nails, and then pulled it fast, and then went slow again.
"I-I'm just an embalmer, Miss Chianti. I don't have the coordination to restore faces. I work at three different funeral homes, as a freelancer."
Austin was now starting to gasp, It had been nine days since his last orgasm, and he was having a difficult time keeping from spurting into Chianti's pretty palm.
Chianti rubbed and patted Austin's cock, and then made a little circle with her fingers and surrounded the penis and rubbed up and down.
"Are you close to orgasm, Austin? You have to tell me."
"Yes ma'am." Austin's eyes kept roaming from Chianti's red lips to her tight sweater, and then down to her crossed legs (those heels!) and then back up again.
"Well, we have to discourage that. Bring that wee-wee down."
Chianti patted her lap.
"N-no, maybe-"
"Right now, Austin. Take your medicine."
Sighing, Austin lay across Chianti's lap.
Fifty times the hairbrush rose and fell on Austin's defenseless bottom.
Austin began crying, but when Chianti pulled him off her lap by his ear, his errant member had fully wilted.
"There we go, that's more proper, I think." Chianti began stroking Austin's erection again, and casually watched the progress of its tumescence.
Chianti casually undid her bun so her long strawberry hair fell about her shoulders.
She licked her lips and Austin began getting very, very aroused.