The interrogative was clear from his intonation, and Suzanne had to concentrate to think of the answer, her brain was still so fuddled by the deep sleep from which she was still emerging. Eventually she realised what he was asking, and the events of the evening before were suddenly as clear as if illuminated by a flash of lightening on a dark night. The colour rose immediately to her cheeks as she remembered now why parts of her body were sore, and why she had slept so well. She stammered an answer.
"Ye..yes Sir. I believe that last night was, uhhm, quite, no, err very, or even totally successful. I'm sure that Mr Truman would say the same thing Sir."
"I never had any doubts Suzanne, but don't tell me now, save it for when you get back this afternoon. Ian and I will be patient until then. You are to meet Karl for breakfast in exactly one hour, don't keep him waiting."
The line went dead with a click and buzzed against her ear. She was in a dazed daydream as the events of the previous evening continued to come back to her, each remembrance shocking her in the cold light of day. She couldn't believe how she had behaved - her, until very recently a loving, caring, faithful wife, and a doting mother. When she thought of Clare, her hands came up and covered her face with guilty shock, as if she was hiding from the world; she realised she hadn't given her daughter a single thought since going down with Karl Solomon to meet and have dinner with Tim Truman the night before, not even when she had finally climbed exhausted into bed after saying good night to Tim at her hotel suite door. And the way she had behaved, had encouraged him to behave -- she couldn't believe it of herself. She was brought back to earth as the buzzing in her ear became suddenly silent, to be replaced by a tinny voice which said, "Please replace the handset. Please replace the handset." She put the 'phone down, checked the clock, and then lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes to remember.
She remembered being put into an embarrassing situation as she sat with Tim after dinner, and of being made to confess to Tim that she had a mysterious Master who had ordered her to do whatever Tim demanded of her (without letting Tim know that her Master was actually her boss, Graham Leicester). She remembered bringing Tim back to her suite, of being made to undress, and their first frantic lovemaking, which had resulted in their each achieving powerful orgasms. It was her subsequent behaviour that really surprised her. She started to think back through the events in the order in which they occurred.
She had left Tim in the living room / study, sitting naked and satisfied on the floor, and padded naked into her bathroom, feeling his cum starting to leak from her. She had looked at herself in the mirror in the immediate afterglow of her passion, and had seen a different woman look back at her; a sensuous, wanton woman that she had barely recognised from the quiet housewife of a few days earlier. For a few seconds, she had wondered what was becoming of her. She then remembered how she had reached out for tissues to wipe herself, and then had changed her mind and drawn back her hand. She had reached between her own legs to feel the sticky wet residue of her lovemaking with her own smooth fingers, and, exploring herself, her own smooth lips of her still gaping pussy, started again to feel her passion rising, her resistance melting. The same thoughts that had excited her when she had submitted to Tim, when she had wanted him to possess her, to use her, had started to impinge on her again. She hadn't been finished, and she'd known it. She had wanted to give more. All this came back to her as she relived the events of the night before.
She remembered sitting down naked on the side of the bath and opening her legs and looking at the inflamed lips of her sex, fascinated with the sight, removed from it as if she was examining another person. She had let her fingers play there, her eyes watching the effect they made, her head full of the feelings of surrender and submission that were so new and sometimes frightening for her. She had seen her own juices, and Tim's escaping spent semen making her lips glisten, leaving trailing strands behind her probing fingers, as they had stroked and pulled and caressed her. She had thought of Graham Leicester and the power he seemed to have over her, and she remembered the pleasure she got from submitting to him, allowing him to take all decisions about her, of being his sex slave, an object.
Then she had felt guilt and remorse at her own behaviour. At the same time that she revelled in her new self, her old self interposed and questioned the morality of what she was doing; what her and Ian were doing; what she and Tim had done. She was utterly shocked at the dangerous dive that she had taken. But she was excited. Visions of old black and white movies sprang into her head, where some vaguely remembered character listened first to an imaginary angel and then to an imaginary devil, personifications of conscience, first promoted the good and then promoted the evil. For an instant, she was diverted by the challenge of remembering which film had contained the scene; a dichotomy between the dark and the light, but even through this self-doubt and questioning, her fingers kept stroking, stoking the devil in her. Evil started to win out.
She'd suddenly had a desire to be dirtier, to submit further, and to be abused and used more than she already had. She had seen a large gob of sticky cum start to slip from her opening, and she had quickly reached for it and caught it with her fingers. Remembering the need she had felt to submit, how it had welled up inside her, made her blush again as she remembered how she had found herself reaching her spunk covered fingers towards her mouth, where she slowly and deliberately tasted them, closing her eyes with the pleasure of submission as she licked up the thick globule she had caught, savouring it in her mouth, feeling its silky richness, swallowing it with relish.
Her hand had returned to her pussy, her ring and index fingers sliding down either side of her slick lips whilst her middle finger teased her hard clitoris, rubbing and gently flicking it, before pressing hard against it, rotating it in the way that only she knew how. It had taken her only a few seconds to start another little orgasm rolling through her, the taste of spunk in her mouth, a quiet moan escaping from her lips, thinking how she loved being the plaything of Graham Leicester. The predominant thought in her mind as she came was the fervent hope that he would make her more of his slave and slut; that he would continue controlling her descent into depravity, that her descent would be complete, that she would be forced to endure more than she had even dreamt of.
A few seconds after she came in the bathroom she had resisted the temptation to repeat the experience of making herself come, knowing that she wanted to go the extra mile with Tim who was still quiet and alone in the room next door. She wondered what Graham would want her to do, and she made her decision on that basis.
She washed herself, tidied up her make-up and her hair, ran her hands sensuously down her body and walked naked into the bedroom. Her wedding night negligee was lying on the bed where she had left it when unpacking earlier. Graham had been specific in asking her to take it with her. She picked it up and slipped it over her head, looking at herself in the mirror again, and feeling the delicious thrill of knowledge that she was about to offer a virtual stranger a rare and precious gift; herself. She walked back into the lounge / study area, where she saw Tim awake from a doze as she stepped towards him.
His face had been a picture as he saw her, her fantastic figure visible through the transparent material of her flowing nightdress. She had helped him up and moved him to the chair, and then knelt at his feet, the negligee falling silently around her, and she had looked into his eyes and said the words she had prepared in the bathroom, the words that had been designed to invite his further abuse of her.
"Now Sir, is there anything else that this submissive little slut can do for you?"
The effect had been electric on both of them. She had felt so intensely dirty inviting him to use her like that. Tim had looked at her quizzically, and his until then flaccid cock had immediately stirred.
