Miss Allison (Ch. 04)
soppingwetpanties
This chapter can stand by itself, but you'll get more out of this story by reading Chapters 1 through 3. This chapter has cum eating and pegging in it.
Dedicated to David. It's my spin on his kinks.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.
Chapter Four
I was a dumb shit.
I was fifty-five, divorced and not really the first choice for beautiful younger women. Yet there I was with two hotties, though maybe not in the traditional sense. I was going to be their submissive, by choice, and subject myself to all kinds of abuse in the guise of humiliation or worse. I'd already served as Miss Allison's toilet slave in the executive men's washroom of my most important business client. Looking back on it, it was the best sex of my life, licking the pee off her pussy and then savoring a refreshing hot piss chaser. It was beyond exciting to be performing an intimate service for my Queen, my wonderful Miss Allison.
It was only the second day of our "relationship" (though I'd known Miss Allison for two years, but only as next-door neighbors), yet I'd already professed my love for her with the gamey flavor of her piss still in my mouth. It's hard to describe the kind of intense love I had for Miss Allison. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever been with, and for her to take me on as her submissive was the best (and at the same time scariest) thing that ever happened to me.
And then, to make it even better, Miss Allison brought in my boss, Miss Meghan, to join in on the fun. Miss Meghan's girlfriend was a wannabe submissive so Miss Meghan wanted to experience BDSM firsthand with me before deciding whether it was for her (and her girlfriend). I was more than happy to be her guinea pig (or any pig for that matter). It was my dream to submit to a beautiful woman and to have two was beyond my wildest dreams.
How was I about to fuck it up? I had the harebrained idea of recording my sessions with Miss Allison with a hidden camera so I could have premium whack off material for later. Of course I did a shitty job hiding the camera so Miss Allison found it before I had a chance to watch what it'd recorded. I was a fucking moron. So there I was, kneeling naked and on my hands and knees in my own kitchen, terrified, under Miss Allison's piercing stare. She was wearing a Domme costume she borrowed from a friend - - low cut black leather bustier, short black leather skirt and thigh high lace up black leather boots with stiletto heels. She looked stunning and menacing at the same time. My penis, which was rock hard, voted for stunning.
Now I was going to face the music with Miss Allison with Miss Meghan as a witness. I was awaiting my punishment with the shattered remains of the spy camera scattered all around me. She had just ground the camera to dust with the sole of her ass-kicking boots. To top it off, Miss Allison was brandishing a nasty looking flogger and was about to beat the shit out of me for betraying her trust.
"Do you know how I found the camera?" she barked at me.
Miss Allison was not at all nice in the way she asked me.
"No Miss Allison," I squeaked. I'm not sure it mattered what I said. I was totally and thoroughly fucked.
"Your cat. Can you believe it?" She pointed to the high pantry shelf I'd put it on. "He jumped up there and pushed aside the plant that was hiding it." She laughed in my face. "Even your cat wants to fuck with you."
Not only were these two women about to punish me, but it was also my black cat, Lord Vader, who was Pontius Pilate incarnate. Betrayed by my own cat. After belittling me about my own cat, she deepened my sense of shame.
"So what were you planning on doing with the video?"
I had already dug myself a deep grave. Lying or withholding information was no longer an option for me. I'd already learned my lesson, lying to her once and paying a big price. Besides, I was sure she'd already figured it out. It wasn't as if my needs weren't obvious.
"I wanted to masturbate while I watched it," I confessed, confirming what she already knew. Men think with their dicks. Dicks aren't very smart. I wasn't.
"You're a fuck-up David," Miss Allison said dismissively to me. "You had the unmitigated gall to secretly record our sessions and then you planned to disobey my order not to cum without permission?"
Guilty as charged. "I know," I said to Miss Allison, "but I'll be better. I promise."
"Promise?" Miss Allison said, mocking me. "Your promises aren't worth shit."
I couldn't lose her. "What can I do to make this right?" I asked, not wanting to sound desperate even though I was.
"You're going to give Miss Meghan the rest of the survey and I'm going to record it. And then she, like me, is going to do whatever the fuck she wants to you. And I'm going to watch while she does it."
This whole shitshow started when I took an online BDSM sex survey and printed out the results. Miss Allison found a hard copy of it that I'd mistakenly (or maybe purposefully) left in my printer tray. Fifty questions and fifty highly explicit and embarrassing answers. She'd given the first two pages to Miss Meghan and I'd promised to give her the rest of it so I would be the unquestioned instigator of my own humiliation. Miss Meghan wanted me to give it to her as an insurance policy against a harassment claim I might file against her (even though I had no intention of doing so).
"Get up," Miss Allison ordered.
A copy of the survey was sitting on the table. She handed it to me. All seventeen pages. Miss Allison picked up her phone and pointed it at me. She was capturing the upper half of my flabby body in the picture.
"Go ahead," she said.
I handed the survey to Miss Meghan. Miss Allison kept the phone pointed at me, so Miss Allison's voice was off camera.
"What is this?" Miss Meghan asked.
"It's a sex survey I filled out. It has my answers to fifty questions about my sexual desires and perversions Miss Meghan."
"And I have your permission to share this video and the survey with anyone I please?" Miss Meghan asked me.
"Yes," I answered.
Miss Allison stopped recording.
"That's it. I've got what we need. Now get back on your hands and knees slut."
My knees creaked as I once again knelt on the hardwood floor. Miss Allison came over to me and put a heavy wooden cutting board on my back, the one I used to carve the Thanksgiving turkey when I did that sort of thing. I had to brace myself by constricting my abs to support the additional weight and to take some of the load off my knees.
Miss Allison went over to the refrigerator and opened it. I heard her moving bottles.
"How about this one?" she said to me, waving a bottle of chardonnay I'd been saving for a special occasion. She looked at the price sticker that was still on it. "$60? Wow. That's a lot for a chardonnay."
"Whatever you want Miss Allison," I said.
"Well good," she said. She put the bottle on the cutting board and used the corkscrew to open it, putting a lot more pressure on my back. I wobbled a bit as she leaned on me.
"Steady now. We wouldn't want to spill any of this delicious wine, would we?" she asked me rhetorically.
I gritted my teeth and stayed in a kneeling position while Miss Allison took out the cork and added two wine glasses to the board. She poured wine into each glass and then left the rest of bottle on the cutting board.
"Don't move slut," she said to me. As if I had a choice.
"It would be a shame to spill any of this expensive wine," she added as she walked away.
Miss Meghan had already parked herself at the kitchen table across from Miss Allison and the two were deep in conversation, drinking my wine and ignoring me as I suffered a mere few feet from them. The college sorority sisters were catching up on twenty years of life since college. I couldn't tell how long I'd been kneeling, but it was long enough that Miss Meghan and Miss Allison visited me twice to refill their wine glasses. My knees were already killing me, but then my back was screaming from having to hold and balance the cutting board and the wine bottle.
Miss Allison got up from the table with an empty wine glass in hand.
"That chardonnay was good," she told me. "Do you have any more?"
I didn't. I had an open bottle of cheap cabernet in my refrigerator. I told her and she retrieved the bottle. She sat down and filled their glasses. After they'd resumed their conversation Lord Vader strolled over to them and rubbed his head against Miss Allison's sexy black leather boot.
"Oh, here's the kitty I was telling you about," Miss Allison said to Miss Meghan as she scratched Lord Vader between his ears, just where he liked it.
"He's cute," said Miss Meghan. He had managed to roll on his back so Miss Meghan was able to rub his soft fat fuzzy underbelly. He was a shameless whore. Like me.
Then Miss Allison looked at me with a scowl on her face. It was a "you're in even more trouble look."
"This wine sucks," she announced.
She'd brought a large canvas tote bag with her initials embroidered on the face of it that was sitting on the floor next to her. She called it her "goodie bag." She pulled out a cream-colored ceramic dog dish with "SLUT" crudely painted on the side.
"It's for you," she said smugly. She dropped the bowl on the floor with a loud thump. The sound got Miss Meghan's attention. She was on her phone and turned her head to pay attention to what Miss Allison was going to do. She snickered when she saw Miss Allison dump her glass of wine into the bowl.
"And this too," she said. "This sucky wine has your name written all over it."
Lord Vader came over to investigate the new dog dish. He got a whiff of the cheap wine, turned up his nose and sauntered away.
Miss Allison tapped the handle of the flogger against the palm of her other hand as she spoke.
"So David. Back to this trust issue. We all must trust each other and yet you chose to secretly record our sessions. You didn't think giving the survey to Miss Meghan was all I wanted, did you?"
"No Miss Allison. I'm sorry," I said, apologizing again.
She picked up her own dog-eared copy of my survey and read it.
"Question 12. 'Have you ever been flogged? Did you want to be?' You answered no and then yes.
