Chapter 2
Lucy sent me over to the Peters' house the next morning with a small sack from a local department store.
She had watched Mrs. Peters give the Pastor the assigned blow job. He did not make it easy for her to begin with, questioning why, taken aback by her unaccustomed enthusiasm... she was clumsy and he was cautious, not wanting to get hurt by tooth or claw, still wondering why all of a sudden, his normally prim and proper wife, that had never really seemed to enjoy oral sex, all of a sudden wanted to play the slattern and suck his cock. In the end he had laid back on their bed and let her kneel over him from the side and have her way. She was wearing a nighty, not naked, but available, though he did not touch her, or himself. When he had gotten close, he told her, thinking she would pullout and finish him with her hand, but when she continued to suck, he quickly pushed her off of his cock, thinking she had not heard his warning, finishing on his stomach, complaining about the mess she had made.
I knocked and waited, and could not help but notice the look of disappoint when she saw me instead of, I assume, Lucy, based solely on her reaction when I told her the bag was from Lucy and she was to wear what was in it over to my house to receive her reward for being obedient last night. (her smile had dropped when she saw me, and brightened when she heard Lucy was pleased with her.)
"Did you tell her 'today'? Did she balk about the suit?" Lucy paced through the kitchen from the patio out to the front door and back again.
"I told her what you told me to tell her... she seemed genuinely happy about you saying she would get a reward. Relax just a bit honey... she is new to this and..."
"Don't tell me to relax! I'm gonna' beat her slow ass... she had better get here quick if she knows what's good for her!"
The door bell chimed before Lucy finished her rant. She began to stomp her way to the front door, but then thought better of it and asked me to get it, not knowing for sure that it was her play thing.
Mrs. Peter's was standing on my front porch, trying to be small and inconspicuous, wrapped in her robe, wearing shower shoes.
I opened the door. Mrs. Peters quickly slunk past me into the house, clutching her robe around her, holding it closed at the neck. She was not the confident pastor's wife/Sunday school teacher that had ruled Supreme on Sundays, in fact she looked scared, mousy... a bit pathetic.
She moved past me, looked furtively around, then turned to face me, leaving her back exposed to the rest of the house.
"Where is Lucy? I..."
Lucy came into the foyer like a hurricane.
"What the fuck are you wearing? You stupid cunt! You worthless bitch! I gave you one simple thing to do. Are you just trying to ruin my day!"
She flew at the shocked housewife who started to stammer out am explanation, but got bulldozed. Lucy, while yelling and exploding, grabbed the front of the robe and jerked it open, and then threw Mrs. Peters to the floor as they struggled over the robe. Lucy pulling and tearing to get the off, Brittany clutching, at first to retain it, but letting go to catch herself and then cover up as Lucy stripped it from her.
Underneath she was wearing the bathing suit that Lucy had given her, a two piece number that was revealing when worn properly but when at least one size too small, was totally inadequate for any sort of modesty. The bra was a couple of triangle mounted so that they could be slid into different positions to cover different shapes. Mrs. Peters spilled out and around them while standing still. When Lucy threw her down she popped out completely. The bottoms where a thin thong that could barely cover a naked pussy let alone one hardly trimmed at all.
The robe was tossed away, out of reach, the Lucy went back with her hands, slapping at Mrs. Peters shoulders, back and hip, choosing whatever target was offered as the suburban housewife rolled back and forth trying to avoid more punishment. Lucy noticed that the rubber flip flops had come off of her victim's feet. Snatching one up, she continued to pepper the writhing woman, leaving red splotches on thighs and ass cheeks, hips back, and tits... all exposed to torment as hands moved from place to place.
Lucy yelled obscenities, starting sentences without finishing, calling her names all punctuated with slapping sounds, crying, weeping, tears... begging, pleading, apologies one after another.
I stayed out of it, a flip flop will sting, leave a red mark, but not much else...
Lucy was winding down, "A simple order! Wear the bathing suit! Get over to the pool! How fucking hard is that you stupid cow?"
Brittany was just sobbing and flinching now, but when Lucy slowed down, I could see that Brittany's nipples were rock hard and the hand that was devoted to covering her pussy was busy with more than just protecting it.
"Get up! Get up you fucking good for nothing cunt!"
When the slapping stopped, Mrs. Peters paused, then rolled onto he knees, shoulders to the ground, facing away from Lucy. Knowingly or not, her fingers were still pushing aside the small patch of material and were embedded in her pussy.
"I know now I was wrong, please... it won't happen again... give me another..."
Lucy went ballistic again and began raining blows or the exposed ass offered up to her.
"How dare you show me your ass and beg for mercy!"
Five swats was all she could stand before her body was flat on the ground, three more before convulsion wracked her, head to toe, as waves of climax took her. Two more and Lucy dropped the shoe, grabbed my hand and strode out through the kitchen to the back patio. Over her shoulder shouting, "You had better get your ass together and get out here quick before I kick your slut cunt to the curb."
I was smart enough to know that at this point I was just a tool in her tool drawer and that my advice, comments or initiative was uncalled for, unnecessary and unwanted.
Lucy pushed me down on a chaise lounge. As she stripped off her own suit she said, "I need you to fuck. Good thing you liked the show, now get that blood filled, meaty monster out where I can ride it.
Both of us naked, she straddle and sunk down on my cock. Hands planted on my chest she began to grind, then pump, then grind. She dug her nails in my chest, causing me to grunt in pain, when her first orgasm hit. Then, without a word, she got up, turned around and sat back down. She was quick, no nonsense. I did not even register a change of temperature.
Brittany pulled herself together, finally drying her tears and telling herself she was not crazy for having just begged to be flogged, painfully spanked, by a teenaged girl, in front of her teenaged boyfriend, (whom she had know all his life and taught in Sunday school class), while fingerings herself to a earthquake level orgasm. She was not insane for straightening the obscenely revealing swimsuit and going to submit herself to whatever other degrading experiences Lucy chose to subject her to. She feared in her heart of hearts that she was finally succumbing to the devils voice that she had been fighting all of her life...but having finally opened the door a crack, she had to ride this through and see if she survived to the other side. She was committed to exploring this deep well of darkness that excited her so much.
Sitting reverse cowgirl, hands now on my thighs, Lucy stroked my cock, root to tip, with her pussy. My cock glistened in the morning sunlight every time she lifted herself up.
Mrs. Peters appeared at the kitchen/patio door, swimsuit in place, as much as it could be considering, her body splotchy with red imprints, face stained from drying tears.
My balls were boiling, cum churning, sperm cells lining up to be blasted off into the unknown, eager to fulfill their purpose. My hands moved to Lucy's firm ass which brought her attention back to earth momentarily.
"Not yet Johnny... Hold on."
Lucy had some muscle control that was phenomenal. (As I have said, she is the instigator... of our exploration sexually. That doesn't mean she was in charge, but she sets the pace and tone most of the time. Me... I could pump and cum and roll over... I was a guy after all... but I liked Lucy and so, was more than willing to help her, actively, or passively, as she needed, to get her pleasure from sex as well.) She sat down and tightened up, then sat still... she could squeeze almost as tight at the root with her kegels as she could with her fist. We both held still until my urgent need passed, then I tapped her on the hip and she resumed... but only a moment.
Lucy turned her head, presumably, based on past experience, to grant me a smile for successfully holding on, but we will never know for sure, as, in turning her head, Lucy spotted the lurking Pastor's wife sneaking fingers beneath the waistband of her thong.
"Are you still here Bitch? I thought you might have run home to that pathetic excuse for a man you call a husband."
Caught sneaking into "the cookie jar", Brittany stood straight, at attention, shame and fear and desire all fighting for a place to show themselves on her face, desire finally winning out.
"Get your worthless self out here and kneel down in front of your owner!" Lucy did not miss a beat while degrading her toy.
(I feel the need to say at this point, that I was seeing a hitherto unknown side of my sweetheart. She was normally a kind and generous soul, having been the subject of scorn and ridicule most of her life, she showed amazing empathy for people... but she was a harsh Mistress to her new plaything.)
She rode me without embarrassment, talking to her property with no more care about her feelings than she would a disobedient dog or cat.
"Back for more, I see. "I could not chase you away with a stick" as they say..."
Brittany hung her head.
Lucy tapped her on the side of her head... an open hand, harder than a touch, much less than a slap. "Look at me when I talk to you, unless I tell you not to. I gave you simple instructions. I expect you to be obedient. I do not expect you to interpret them anyway you see fit or to ease your compliance. Wear this suit and come over to the pool does not mean wear this suit and shoes and cover up with a robe. Are we clear?"
Mrs. Peters said, "Yes. Very clear... Mistress..."
