HIS MAIL ORDER DOMME
Hume Wells knelt on the hard marble floor of his Colonial house. Hume was wearing only thigh high white stockings, with frilly tops, and shivered slightly.
Hume watched dispiritedly as Stolichnaya smiled into the phone.
"That's right. He can't visit right now. He's not really into live music."
She paused. "Yes, he told me how much he likes the 'Sinister Prime Ministers' but Hume has responsibilities here at home."
Why, oh why, did I get a mail order bride? But really, could I live without her?
Last night, Stoli had stripped down to her slip, and let her pretty breasts out and played with them while Hume had looked up and rubbed her feet.
She had a way of mesmerizing him. A few times Hume had tried to break up with Stoli, but generally, she'd somehow change the subject, or order him to disrobe for a spanking.
So, instead of breaking it off, Hume would be in the corner, rubbing his sore rump, and weeping.
And she was indeed, quite a girl, Stoli.
Stoli was his dream princess, if a little bossy.
Stoli now hung up the phone, tossed her mane of blonde curls and smiled.
"Your friend wants you to go see your ridiculous band together. Don't you boys get sick of that? I told him you were otherwise occupied, Humie."
"It's in that nightclub across the river in Hollinger, I'd be back-"
"No need for you to be back, since you're not going anywhere, dear."
No more concerts, doing lines off a strippers tits, soccer games or much else with Delvin and the others.
"Your friend Delvin reminds me of so many assholes I knew growing up in New Jersey" Stoli said thoughtfully, as she filed her long nails.
"But I thought you were from behind the Iron Curtain."
"Why, because I was in a mail order bride catalogue? It was an Asian mail order bride book, and I'm obviously not Asian."
"But your name-"
"My dad was a lush and named me after his favorite vodka. But Dad split when I was young, and my mother raised me. She was a pistol."
Yes, you've told me the stories. It's true, you don't have a foreign accent at all, Stoli."
Stoli gave Hume a brilliant smile. "You're not upset that I'm not Russian, are you, Humie?"
"No, I adore you, but I think you're a little controlling."
She was very controlling, and kept him so damn horny.
Hume had thought he was getting close to an orgasm, and that Stoli might be feeling generous after a lot of teasing and edging.
One night recently, Stoli had tied Hume to the bed with a vibrator tied over his cock. Poor Hume had had to push his hips up to get his cock to touch the low hanging vibrator, like a baby's mobile or something, and he had to continue this exaggerated stretch, but never did get enough friction to go over the edge...
It just sort of massaged him.
And of course, Stoli had found Hume's efforts highly amusing!
Now, listening to Hume bitch and moan about her controlling behavior, Stoli shook her head.
"No more of that talk. I'll get my prison strap, Hume."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Stoli laughed.
Hume sighed and rubbed his cock slowly. Here on the floor naked except for the white thigh high stockings and black leather Mary Janes, his was not a good bargaining position.
"How is the edging going, Hume?" Stoli came over, looking so beautiful in her form fitting blue silk dress and she looked down at her fiancée.
"I'm trying not to get too close. It's really hard."
"I should lock you up soon. You are such a sad case, no self-control. Serge is so much better than you are. I don't even have him in a chastity device."
Serge was the best friend of Hume's pothead college dropout sons, and he himself had been just worthless at age twenty-one...
But when Hume had met Stoli, a new regime had come into the Wells household, and Bubba and Junior had split to live with their mother in North Dakota.
But Serge had been fascinated by Stoli and her discipline, and although he lived down the street, she had him under her control in a good way.
He'd cut his hair, gone back to school, and took punishments manfully, and only came when told to...and Hume had to try and be an example to the little fucker.
"Yes ma'am" Hume said now, once more. "Oh, I'm too close."
"Please, let me cum. I've tried so hard to please you, Stoli. I got you presents, and don't you like your new art gallery? And I perform splendidly between your legs every night, aren't those your own words?"
Stoli giggled again.
"Oh, silly." Stoli took one of her high heels and kicked Hume's hand away from his nearly purple, dribbling penis.
Hume had been denied nineteen days, and it was indeed, getting close. Stoli stepped down on Hume's cock, grinding it into the hardwood floor like an errant cigarette butt.
Hume screamed and Stoli smiled, signaling him to put his hands behind his back.
"This little heel should calm you down, beater boy."
Stoli lifted the tip of her shoe and then pushed her heel down.
"Hold your penis still, honey. Mommy is going to calm it down."
"Nuh-no please, Mommie...please Stoli..."
But of course Hume held his penis still, and Stoli pressed her heel hard on the glans and what a sharp, vicious pain it was!
And still, Hume was wild with desire!
What could he do? She had a way about her, Stoli did.
And constantly, she was surprising everyone around her.
During a period in Stoli's past, she had lived in Hollywood, and had become involved with a well-known lesbian comedian...the relationship had turned long-term after Stoli left town...
When Janae, the comedian, got an Emmy award for her new TV show, and flew into Buttermilk Falls to give it to Stoli as a gift...
Stoli had gone on a rant about Janae's weight.
Hume had thought Janae's boobs looked great in her peach top, but Stoli was relentless."
"Janae, you are a rutting pig. How can America watch you in a sitcom? You should be playing an aunt on the "Honey Boo Boo" show."
Janae had set the Emmy down on a table, and burst into tears. Stoli had ordered Janae to disrobe, and then she'd began lashing Janae with a fiberglass riding crop.
"Your tits (WHACK) are so humongous, (WHACK)sagging things.
Doesn't your (WHACK)so called studio audience (WHACK) have nausea looking at such a grotesque (WHACK) cow? Stand (WHACK)still while I (WHACK) discipline this vacuous (WHACK)bosom of (WHACK)yours. It's really enough to make (WHACK)anyone sick."
Hume had marveled at the stoicism that America's Comedic Sweetheart had had, standing still with her arms behind her back as Stoli had lashed the tits with intense vigor.
Janae had watched, weeping, as Stoli had summoned her young neighbor slave Serge, who brought his smelting tools over and had turned the Emmy into a sludgy mass of garbage.
And of course, right before Janae had flown back to Los Angeles, she'd gone down on Stoli for an hour and then brought herself off by rubbing her clitoris against a dining room table leg.
Even with Hume's Dad, Hume the First, the famous football coach known as "Hunk"...
Stoli had found a way to bring Hunk down.
Hume had endured a hideous upbringing with constant belittlement by Hunk-as Hume was no jock.
No one talked back to Hunk, no one criticized the coach that had taken the Buttermilk State Buccaneers to the Rose Bowl.
But Hunk had made the gratuitous error of using a racist remark, and Stoli had smiled oh so gently.
And then came that sweet undertone...
"Hunk you are my future father-in-law. I don't abide that kind of talk in my house from anyone, though..."
Hunk had postured. "I covered the down payment for this house, for my idiot son and his wife Number One... It's more my house than yours, Missy, and if I want-"
"No, I'm afraid not. You are lucky I didn't knock your teeth out, dear, when you pinched my derriere in the kitchen, while I was preparing the foie de gras."
Hume had given his father a warning look, but Stoli beat the band.
"I think, just before dessert, we are going to leave the table, you and I, and go in the living room, and you're going to drop your trousers like your baby boy often does..."
Hume's mother had then gaped in amazed horror. No one spoke to Hunk that way!
"And I'm going to convince you to take up better, even if it is at the advanced age of seventy-one."
Hunk was a muscle bound ex-Marine, even at his advanced age. He could have thrown Stoli through a window, or just walked out of the house.
He'd kicked his wife's ass on a number of occasions, and the Buttermilk Falls constable had been too fond of his season tickets to pursue the matter of Mrs. Wells's black eye...
After all, what was a shiner in a private marital dispute?
But Stoli had risen, and gone around the table to the babbling Hunk...
She'd taken him by the sleeve...
And the six foot four Goliath had followed Stoli like a calf to slaughter.
The sounds that Hume, his mom, his sister and her husband heard from the living room were something else...
No one had ever made Hunk cry!
Afterwards, while the others enjoyed decaf and cheesecake in the living room, and played some "Charades"...
Hunk had stood shamefacedly in the corner...the face and exposed bottom both bright blotchy red.
