Master's Surprise

You have that look about you. You’re up to something and is as pleased as punch with yourself. I cannot imagine what it is that has you looking like a cat who got the cream.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you tell me as you bolt for the door, “there’s a letter for you on the hall table. You’d better look at it, it looks important.”

“What’s it about?” I yell to him from the bedroom where I’m changing from the day’s toiling garb into something more relaxed.

“I don’t know. It’s addressed to you and I didn’t open it.” And the door shuts behind you.

“Damn! Damn, damn and damn!” I wander out to the hall, still partially dressed – well, underwear, anyway. I pick up the letter. Nice stationery, a heavy manila paper, cream colored, but it contains no return address. “Hmm,” I say to myself as I tear open the envelope and unfold the letter it contains.

It reads: “At 5:45 tonight, your doorbell will ring. Get in the car. The driver will take you where you need to be. Master.”

A big smile appears until I look at my watch – I have exactly 12 minutes. Dropping the letter, I dash for the bath, shedding my remaining clothes as I run. I turn on the water, and give up grabbing the scrubby and ducking into the still-cold water. A lick and a promise will have to do. I’m out of the shower and mostly dry with eight minutes left. “Damn!” I know Master will not tolerate my being late. For anything.

At the closet, I grab a dress, ruffle through the drawers looking for pretty underpinnings – just bra and hose – then back to the closet to get shoes. Four minutes. “Double damn!” Ruin one stocking – find another and get it on.

Back to the bathroom to do something to the hair, back to the dresser for earrings and a dinner ring. I go to the hall closet for a coat at a dead run, getting there just as the bell rings.

I open it, and there stands a stranger who hands me another cream envelope. I open it and read the card inside. “Get a book you haven’t read. Go with this man. Master.” I grab my bag, find my current novel and put my coat on as I walk out the door, locking it behind me. The man ushers me into the back seat of the car.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask the chauffeur. There is no response. “Damn!” I’ll just have to wait and see. In the interim, I fuss a little more with hair, fix my stockings more comfortably, get my nipples pointing in the same direction, check for makeup – the things for which there was no time. Then noticing I’m being watched, settle back, close my eyes and give in to the feeling. My pulse and breathing accelerate, as they always do when I think of you. My hand starts to stray to my heating and increasingly damp center, when I remember the eyes in the rear view mirror. I relax, folding my hands in my lap. Whatever you’ve planned is in motion.

The car stops for longer than a stoplight and I hear the driver exit his door. I sit up and the door opens. The chauffeur hands me out. We’re at the airport. I look around, but you’re nowhere to be seen. A young man walks up to me, hands me another envelope. I open it: “Follow this young man. Master.” All right. But I’m not prepared to be anywhere. I have work, I haven’t packed anything, and..... Master says. Okay. I follow the young man through the airport, and my eyes scan everywhere for you. I see only strangers. We arrive at a gate, the flight is scheduled for Los Angeles and is already boarding. The young man hands me my boarding pass. “Where’s Tommy? Mr. Thomas?” I ask him. He says nothing, turns and departs. I hesitate, looking for you until the flight attendant asks if I’m going to board. Thinking you’re probably on the plane, I board. Shortly after I get on, the door closes and the plane is pushed back from the gate.

I stand and survey everyone and don’t see your familiar face or your hair. After we’re airborne, I make a trip to the bathroom and look for you. You’re not on the plane. A small thrill of panic runs through me. I’m decidedly nervous now. During the flight, I read the magazines, watch the in-flight movie, and doze. It seems to be only a short time before the plane is landing in Los Angeles. Great! Now I’m here, and there’s no clue about what to do next. The flight attendants, burble their “Buh-byes” at the door to the plane. As I’m almost out the door, one hands me another of the envelopes.

In the concourse, I open the envelope and read the instructions. “Go to Gate 56E. Board the plane. Be there by 8:40. Master.” I look at my watch. Less than 45 minutes and this is LAX.

I ask the gate attendant where gate 56E is. She tells me it’s in the next concourse and I’ll have to take the tram. “Damn! Damn, damn, damn, hell and damn!” I follow her instructions to the tram, walking as quickly as possible. I’ve given up looking for you. You’ll show up when you’re ready and I don’t have time to lollygag.

Again, I get to the gate, but this time there’s a line for a passport check. I don’t have my passport with me, but you did say gate 56E. I’ll ask for you at customs. Maybe you’ll be there and are just bedeviling me. The customs agent, before I can ask anything, says, “Thank you,” and hands me a passport and a boarding pass. I look inside and it’s mine! And now I’m boarding a plane for somewhere, but I was in such a hurry I forgot to look where. Another quick look around for you. Mexico, I think. But why wouldn’t we just fly direct? Why LA?

As I stand at the head of the jetway, I ask the flight attendant where the plane is headed. She gives me a curious smile, and hands me one of those damned envelopes. As I walk down the jetway, I open it. “Don’t ask questions. Master.” You know me way, way too well.

I settle into the seat, get a pillow and blanket and plan on napping. I appear to have the whole row to myself, and that suits me fine. I’m really tired now. Not only was it a long day, it’s approaching midnight and I’m on a plane going ..... somewhere. This time, I don’t even wander up and down the aisles after we’re airborne. You won’t be on this plane. After the usual announcements, curiously devoid of an arrival time, the lights in the cabin dim. The steady drone of the engines puts me to sleep.

I begin having a dream – about you, as ever -- and we’re wandering the streets of this cute little town. It’s very quaint. And then we’re in a hotel room, and I can feel your hand holding the back of my head, your lips on mine, and your fingers running up the inside of my thigh. I shift to a more comfortable position and part my legs a little. And realize I’m not dreaming! My eyes snap open and I start to say something withering when I’m stopped from speech by your kiss. I know that kiss anywhere. It’s you!

“Tommy! You devil! Where are we going? Why all the mystery? I have to be at work in the morning. Why didn’t you ......” You silence me again with your kiss, one hand holding my head to you, the other teasing my bare mons under the hem of my skirt. I inhale sharply through my nose, my heartbeat again gallops off on its mad journey, and electricity fairly running up and down the walls of my cunny, again leaking its own tattletale signal that you’re around. Your fingers dip into me and retreat, appearing between our mouths. You taste me and offer your fingers for my pleasure. I suck them into my mouth. Belatedly, I realize where we are.

“Tommy!” My rectitude surfaces as it often does on your wild adventures. And I look around to see who’s paying attention. No one.

“Silence!” Master thunders in sotto voce.

My head snaps around and our eyes lock. But for the wonderful smile in your eyes, I would cringe as I used to -- before us. We have such caring for each other that no mere words will impinge on our happiness, even your thundery “Silence!”

You make me smile all the time. I still want to know where we’re going, but since you’re here, I know all will be well. You’ll let me know when you’re ready.

Everyone seems to have settled in for sleep. The dim light shows the flight attendants are occupied with their tasks in the galleys. I snuggle into your arm, then sit up and move the arm rest from between us. Now I can touch your body with mine - and am happy.

Ever the voyeur, the exhibitionist, daring and darling, you stroke my arm, teasing the side of my breast with your hand. My hardening nipples are visible though the thin fabric of my dress. As we sit side by side, your near hand slips between my thighs and strokes my softest skin. Electric tracings where you touch me run directly to my clit and again set off stertorous breathing. This time, however, I’ll give tit for tat – one of our favorite expressions – and my hand slips to the inside of your thigh, the back of my hand brushing against your cock and balls. Resting my hand there, softly stroking your thigh, and letting the other side of my hand stroke your sex encourages your breathing to join mine. Your hardening member is an aphrodesiac to me. I slide my shoulder into your armpit, shifting my weight onto one hip. I trap your hand between my legs. Then I lift my lips to kiss and nibble on your neck and reach across with my free arm to unzip your pants. Working with single-minded purpose, I pull your cock out and rub the drop of liquid at the tip with my fingertip, grazing the sensitive skin with a fingernail. You shiver and moan..... then, through strength of will your voice surfaces, “Open your legs, love.” I continue my teasing. “Now,” cuts through to my awareness.

Sliding my head down your chest, my tongue flicks out to taste the new liquid at the tip of your cock. A gasp from you makes me smile as I continue to flick at your sensitive head, which twitches and swells at my teasing. I’m in heaven. I wet my lips, press them against the crown and slowly slide down your shaft. A shudder passes through you, and your hand contracts on my inner thigh. I stroke your shaft with my hand, tickling and licking you around the edge of your crown, around the head and slide you deep into my throat, my hand working. You strangle on a groan as your stomach begins to harden and your hips lift rhythmically toward my mouth. A small series of soft grunts issues from your throat as you begin your pumping action and then erupt into my mouth. Slowly, slowly, i suck you dry, and bring you back to me, small tremors run through you as my hand runs over your still sensitive shaft.

“Slut,” you whisper lovingly. “Here comes the stewardess.” I tuck your cock under my cheek, and close my eyes as if asleep. “Shall I ask her to join us?” you tease.

“Shall I continue to nap or shall I sit up, now?” I parry.

“Bitch.” Your comment makes me grin even wider. I’m trying desperately not to laugh out loud.

“Quick, where are we going? I’ll sit up!”

“Move and your punishment will be severe,” Master’s voice cuts the situation to its basics. “Exhausted,” you tell the flight attendant. “Could I get a blanket?”

I feel fleece settle over my shoulders. Your fingers find my nipple and squeeze. It’s my turn to gasp. “Tahiti,” you whisper.