Author's Foreword—
This is my twelfth posting to Literotica and the sixth chapter of my Male Submissive series. You are invited to vote and leave your words of either praise or displeasure. Also, feel free to visit my profile to access the archives of my older postings.
Enjoy!
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Male Submissive, Part Six — The Unexpected Visitor
Mistress Brandy was getting spoiled.
At the moment, she was reclined face down upon her bed and getting a massage. Allen's huge and strong hands worked her smooth flesh with skill and tenderness. He had studied massage techniques from several websites and knew what to do and what to avoid. His petite Mistress reveled in his attention to detail and the way he seemed to get more than enough enjoyment out of pleasing her. It sometimes made her sad to think of the millions of other women around the world missing out on what she had the pleasure of enjoying.
Allen stroked her fit and taut body, admiring her naked curves as the friction of his caresses warmed her skin and his. He was naked and she was clad in her white cotton bikini panties as usual; Allen felt his semi-hard cock swaying around as he maintained his efforts. Their Dom/sub relationship had been going on for ten months now and each was well in tune with what the other expected and needed.
People at work had long since been wondering about them. They knew Allen and Brandy were involved, but something about it was just the slightest bit off. No one could put their finger on it. They had their breaks together and it was always Allen who fetched food and drinks from their lunchbox and laid everything out on their table. He never complained or refused to fetch her a soda from the vending machines, even if he was eating. He always walked to the side and one step behind his diminutive co-worker like an orthodox Muslim woman would for her husband. Someone asked him about that in Brandy's presence and he merely looked innocent and said it was his way of checking out her ass whenever he wanted. Brandy was fine with that; their sex life was none of anyone else's business and, more importantly, Allen would be deeply and needlessly humiliated if his submissive status became common knowledge. It might even damage his chances of advancement within the company if somebody sexually uptight and in a position of power found out. To that end, Brandy had issued standing orders that granted him permission to interact with her as equals during working hours. Allen served her as a sex slave when the risk of discovery was minimal, like fetching food and running small errands on request—let their co-workers wonder. It would keep them occupied.
Allen finished her shoulders and back. Then he moved down to start on her feet and work his way up her legs one at a time. Mistress had really dainty and pretty feet; Allen knew he didn't have a foot fetish but he enjoyed seeing those beauties in her high heels. She liked to have him paint her toenails just to give him a reason to handle and admire them up close. He took note of her content, lazy smile on her face as he slowly massaged his way up her second leg. "You look content, Mistress."
"Only a cat on a sunny window ledge would be more content right now," sighed Brandy. "You have hands of gold, my pet."
"Thank you, Mistress. Your praise honors me. If I may, I am almost done here. Do you have any other ways I might serve you?"
Brandy ran her options through her head as his hands worked her thigh over in grand fashion. It had been awhile since he'd given her a tongue job and her period was due halfway through next week. Their agreement specified no oral sex until at least two days after her flow had ceased. "I'm content for the moment, pet. Fix yourself a snack if you want when you're done. Then fix me something and put it on the table next to the gyno bench downstairs."
Allen felt his cock stiffen—his mouth between her legs was a prized treat. "Yes, Mistress. May I inquire about the timeframe?"
Brandy was content and just a bit sleepy from the massage, so she was feeling generous. "Whenever you're ready."
"Yes, Mistress," he said as he finished. Allen gently tugged at the hem of her panties' leg openings to straighten the wrinkles out of the white cotton hiding yet enhancing her posterior. "I have finished, Mistress."
"Okay. You're dismissed."
Allen carefully rose from his one-legged kneel on the mattress so as not to jostle her. He quietly padded into the kitchen, fighting down the urge to massage his aching manrod. It did need some attention but Mistress would be most displeased if he caved to temptation and masturbated. He fixed himself a chicken salad sandwich and a Coke and ignored the sizzling he felt in his testicles. Friday would get here soon enough.
Having an open-ended timeframe was moderately rare and he took advantage. Allen logged onto the computer and checked his e-mails. Then he surfed three or four websites in pursuit of some new recipes Mistress might like to try. She was a typical woman inasmuch as she watched her figure, despite weighing a scant ninety-nine pounds when fully dressed for an expedition to the Artic Circle. After logging off, he silently went back to the bedroom and poked his head in to see if she was awake. "Yes?" Brandy asked without moving or opening her eyes.
"I was checking to see if you had fallen asleep, Mistress. I thought it illogical to prepare your snack and then disturb you if you had."
His thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze her. She had fallen into a light doze during previous massages and he had been both embarrassed and upset with himself upon unknowingly disturbing her. "Go ahead and prepare it and come get me when you are ready."
"Yes, Mistress." He moved to comply.
A tune, mayo and cheese sandwich was prepared and placed on a saucer with exactly five Townhouse crackers before he iced up a glass and poured a diet soda. He fetched the cordless and cellular telephones, placed them on a serving tray and took them down to the gyno bench's side table as specified. It wouldn't do to stop his tongue's wagging to fetch the phones if a call came in. Allen went back upstairs and presented himself to his Mistress.
She stood and got a bra out of the dresser, retrieved the coiled blacksnake whip and ordered him to carry her downstairs. He picked her up easily and cradled her in his powerful arms. His erect penis pointed the way as he complied.
He put her down, sat on the scooter stool and adjusted his balls so they wouldn't be compressed. Brandy secured his arms behind his back, put on her bra and stepped out of her panties. Then she hopped up onto the gyno bench and spread her legs, placing them in the support fixtures. "Standard orders for boundaries and duration apply," she informed him, gesturing him to get his mouth busy. He scooted forward, lowered his head and began to lick her as reverently as he knew how. Meanwhile, Brandy relaxed and ate her sandwich and crackers while watching the big-screen TV behind her occupied slave.
Allen's talented tongue traveled everywhere she liked it to go without going up to her clitoris—his standard orders for boundaries forbid it. She required him to stay away from it until specifically ordered to work it directly. This bit of self-denial was her way of making sure he didn't get her so horny as to induce her to forget the "one orgasm a week" rule while fucking her pussy off. It was quite easy to forget her own rules in the throes of having her beaver banged after licking her into a frenzy. He had used that tactic a few times early on; after realizing this after his fourth unauthorized orgasm, Brandy punished him with twenty brutal lashes from the rubber whip and two hours of hang time. Her clitoris
was not
to be exploited for his benefit! Afterwards, she established her standard orders and they hadn't been violated since.
Brandy felt her genitals lubricating as her slave's tongue tiptoed between her two lips. The strands of her well-trimmed pubic thatch stirred with his breathing. Allen didn't look up to check her expressions for an idea of his effectiveness; this was also an element of his standard orders for pussy-eating. It didn't matter how effective his tongue job was since he was required to keep on doing it until ordered to stop. Brandy finished the last of her snack and changed the channel.
The cordless telephone rang twenty-five minutes into the tongue job. Brandy grumbled something under her breath and checked the caller identification readout. "It's Maribel from work," she told Allen as she poked the button. "Hello?"
Allen kept himself busy between her spread legs and listened to the conversation. It was difficult not to since he could hear Maribel's side clearly. She wanted to confer with Brandy about something and needed her signature to release a package going to England. Allen felt disappointed; he would need to stop and stay hidden in the basement while Maribel was here. Then there would be no guarantee Mistress would be in the mood for him to resume once she departed.
"All right," Brandy said with a sigh. "I'm occupied with something in the basement. Let yourself in, come through the kitchen and come downstairs. I'll be expecting you." Small pause. "Okay. See you in ten minutes." She hung up the phone and put it back on the side table.
"We'll be having company, but you're doing too good a job for me to stop you. Put what you're doing on pause and fetch a blanket."
Allen raised his head and regarded her quizzically. "You're going to have me continue even while Maribel is here, Mistress?"
"Yes," she said testily; a slave shouldn't ask obvious questions. "I'm off the clock and she's interrupting me."
"As you wish, Mistress." Allen stood and, with his wrists still crossed and restrained behind him, went into the laundry room. It took some doing and dexterity to get the blanket off the chin-high shelf, but he managed. He brought it to Brandy and presented it to her.
She accepted it and opened it as Allen reseated himself. He lowered his head to resume as Brandy spread the blanket and covered him from the waist up and herself from the waist down. His butt and crossed wrists were still visible, but those anonymous features wouldn't betray his identity to their co-worker.
Maribel arrived several minutes later, came downstairs and stopped in her tracks. She was stunned speechless for a few seconds. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked with uncertainty.
"Yes, you are," replied Brandy bluntly.
Maribel approached warily. Her immediate supervisor had her legs spread with a bound and naked man between them, his blanket-shrouded head bobbing away as if giving Brandy head. Each of her knees was visible and the blanket pulled only to the underside of her bra. "Is that a gynecologist's table?"
"An antique one, yes. I found it at a flea market. It's really handy for getting your pussy licked when you're not at work."
The snide remark made Maribel blush. Brandy might only be four-foot-eleven, but her personality was ten feet tall when faced with incompetence—or nosiness. She was worried about her job as it was since she was just five months out of high school. Figuring it best to reduce her intrusion, Maribel handed over the clipboard she had brought with her.
Under the summer weight pale blue blanket, Allen maintained his tongue duties. It amused him to have his Mistress conducting business with her legs wide open like it was an everyday occurrence. Enough light was bleeding through the blanket to allow him to see what parts of his Mistress was covered, so he happily ranged his eyes as far as he could.
Brandy and Maribel were chatting about things from work. Then Brandy rested the clipboard on her waist and the top of his head before affixing her signature. Maribel couldn't help but wonder how the naked, bound and unknown man under the blanket felt about being reduced to a temporary support. "Who's your friend?" she asked, accepting the clipboard back.
"You don't need to know that," Brandy answered bluntly.
"People at work have been wondering about you and Allen. This guy is about the right size and height—"
"Even if this was Allen, it's no one's business but my own," Brandy cut her off curtly. "That's why he's covered with a blanket. What goes on in my house is my business."
Maribel looked affronted and flipped open her cellphone. "Maybe a picture or two would amuse the folks—"
