Aprons For Gayle Ch. 09

"Woman, I didn't understand what you are asking." He chuckled.

She sighed and faced him. "I was wondering if you'd want to use the flogger on me, just to see what it feels like, but you don't have to."

He couldn't believe that with one conversation that his words were enough to make her feel comfortable enough to try. That was something, at least. He appreciated her courage and willingness, and that thought instantly got him hard again.

"Oh, so, you want me to hang you up to the chandelier and flog you?" he asked with a serious grin.

"I'm afraid of heights," she replied, smirking.

He laughed out loud, then a thought occurred to him. "So, I can't send you up a thirty foot ladder to hang the flags then?"

"No, you cannot," she gasped, though she was sure he was teasing this time.

"How's about a hot air balloon or a parachute jump?"

"Now I didn't say that!" Her eyes lit up. "Would you really let me do that?"

"Nope." She frowned playfully. "Just testing your height limits. We can give it a go, flogging I mean. I'm glad you feel you trust me now."

Echoing his words, she told him, "Now I didn't say that!" she laughed and turned back to the dishes.

"I'll be in my library setting the computer up."

"Great. Thanks, Sir."

Once she was alone she couldn't believe she actually asked him. He did have a certain gentle touch with his hands that was for sure. But to have enough balls to actually ask for it? What was she going to ask for next, the whip? "Hell, no!" she chortled.

She walked into his room and saw him sitting behind his desk. He picked up his head and gave her an odd look. Undeterred, she removed her dinner apron, set it on the chair and knelt beside him on the dog bed.

Watching her every move, he remembered how sexy she was when she danced earlier, and Hammy Jr twitched with anger at the lack of attention. Down boy, he thought.

"Much better. Come here, Ms. Boyce," he said a moment later, patting his thigh, his knees parted.

At hearing the deep, husky tone of his voice, she swallowed hard and awkwardly sat in the chair between his legs. Having such little space on the cushion, she felt the bulge in his crotch. He put his hands on her hips and placed his scruffy chin in the crook of her neck. She shivered as a blast of his hot breath shot over her ear.

"I've called Jessie, and she'll be here at 8:30. Have the list ready for her."

"Yes Sir," she sighed.

"Hands flat on the desk, keep your shoulders against me." He waited. "You are so warm. Spread your legs for me."

As she took a deep breath and did as she was told, he grabbed her inner thighs and lifted them until her knees were bent over his thighs. Once again she was totally exposed to him, though he didn't have a front row and center view. He slipped his hands to her upper thighs, teasing his fingers closer to her clit and labia, but not touching them.

"Hmmphsiirrr," she gurgled. "I need t' ..."

She was silenced when he dug his finger into the folds of her clit and rubbed it a few times. "Shh. Relax, will you? I feel you getting wet, little fawn."

Not letting go, he manipulated her nub for a minute before slipping it down to her entrance. He grunted before he kissed and bit her earlobe with his lips, eliciting a groan in response. She threw her head back against his collarbone, her mouth gaping open, her breathing becoming rapid.

"Slow your breathing, control it. In ... out ..."

She took a few breaths while he traced his moistened finger to her clit, pressing harder on the right outer lip, apparently another erotic button she didn't know she had. She cried out in pleasure at his touch. He brought his other hand up to her face and pushed it toward him, looking deeply into her eyes.

"You are so beautiful when you allow yourself to enjoy it," he cooed.

She smiled bashfully as he brushed his bottom lip against hers, their eyes still locked. She'd always closed her eyes when kissing, but at this moment she didn't want to. Pinching her lip with both of his, she placed her hand on the back of his, which was promptly met with a smack.

Breaking the kiss, he took her hand and lay it back on the desk. "Do NOT move it again!"

She frowned, but only from disappointing him. "Kiss me again, Sir. Please."

"I had every intention of doing so, but on my terms," he replied.

He kept playing with her clit, reveling in feeling it pulse and throb under his finger. His own cock pulsated as she sighed loudly, her legs tensing as if trying to hold onto them for dear life. Leaning back, he pushed her forward a little and wiped his dampened hands on a towel. She watched as he connected to the internet, then he took hold of her breasts and massaged them a bit harder than he had before.

"Go ahead and email your sister for the recipe."

Oh, fuck! she thought. Lord, give me strength!

Taking a deep breath, she took the mouse and accessed her account. She was shocked to see so many from her sister, dad and aunt. She gasped in fear and looked at him petrified. "Sir?! They have your number, right? Why'd they—" He nodded, calming her down. "May I ..."

"Yes. Yes, of course. Just glance to make sure they aren't urgent. You may look at them tomorrow after I come home."

"Oh, thank you, Sir!"

Thankfully, they were just 'how are you' emails, and her body collapsed with relief. Her email to her sister read, 'Hey! I'm doing good. Have a faver to assk. Cann yu gett meee Momm's potatototo salad reccipeee?'

Her spelling had progressively gotten worse because she had to close her eyes at what Hamish was doing to her. He tweaked her nipples in unison at the base then pulled on them, gently at first before pinching them. She moaned loudly, tilted her head down and tried to breath.

Hamish burst out laughing, bringing her around a little. "Take a look at what you wrote."

It was a moment before she could. "Oh, dear god!" Then she, too, laughed.

"Give it another go, will you. I didn't realize I had to give you lessons in spelling too," he teased.

As soon as she was done, having had to rewrite it three times from him continuing to torment her breasts, she sent the email and just sat there. She was incredibly wet at that point, and she couldn't catch her breath.

"Well done."

He kissed her again, his tongue searching for hers, but he didn't have to look far. She eagerly gave it to him, even flicking it over the length of his bottom lip.

He moaned from the back of his throat. "Down on your knees, under the desk."

She looked at him wide-eyed. "Whaat?!"

He chuckled at her surprise. "You heard me. I need to feel that hot mouth of yours around my cock."

Oh, I thought. "Yes Sir."

It was a moment before she got in the position he was happy with: the bottom of her feet touched the back of the desk, her head just past the center drawer; his protruding crotch at the right level before her. She watched him quickly unzip his jeans, pull the waist to his hips then pull out his long, hard cock, also exposing his balls.

Ohmygod, she gasped to herself.

"Kiss my cock, little fawn, lick it, but I want to hear you beg to take it in your mouth. I want you to want it. I want your body to ache for it. Understand?"

"Yes Sir," she replied breathlessly.

Her heart now pounding inside her chest, she leaned forward and kissed the tip of the head, her eyes glued on his. He smiled as she licked under the shaft, making sure that the tip of her tongue touched the folds underneath.

"Ohhh fuuuck," he moaned, closing his eyes and laying his head on the head rest.

She knew she had him! Trying to keep back a grin, she took her time running her tongue down his cock, flicking the tip here and there to tease him before going back to the head. Closing her eyes as well, she moved back down to the base and flicked her tongue between that and his balls.

His legs jerked, and he groaned, "Take my balls ... lick them."

Happily, she licked his balls a few times before gently sucking them into her mouth, one at a time. There was movement above her head, and when she looked up his hands were clutching the end of the arm rests so tightly his knuckles were white; his mouth hung open.

For several minutes she licked the entire length of his cock, kissing and flicking her tongue over it watching his facial expression. With every single touch his body jerked, and he sighed softly. When his moaning became more frequent, she didn't know how much longer she could hold off herself. Her pussy got wetter by the second and her pussy ached for some attention of its own.

"For fucks sake! Beg already!" he cried out.

She tried not to laugh but heeded his plea, leaned forward and dove onto his enlarged penis, taking in half, pulled back out then took more of him.

"Hmm, yes! That's it," he moaned.

Going back down on him, the tip of his cock just at the back of her throat, he put his hand on the back of her head and pushed down, forcing it past the level of comfort. The noises that escaped her lips shocked her, as memories began to flood back to her ...

"Hmmmphgh, hmm hmm," she protested, using all of her strength to pull her head back until he was no longer in her mouth. "Sir, please," she gurgled. "Please don't ..."

He looked down and saw the fear in her eyes. "Too deep?" She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's okay. Just ... let me ... don't push."

He put his hand on her cheek. "Yes, little one. You feel so damned good."

Closing her eyes, she went back down on him, quickly getting back into the mood, her fears subsiding, and for several minutes he moaned and jerked, gripping her hair with his fingers on the back of her head. Her mind was nowhere else but what she was doing, pleasing him, loving his moans of pleasure. She felt her own body begin to melt, and she knew an orgasm was on its way, but she also knew he wouldn't want her to come without his permission.

She hummed a few times, which caused him to groan loudly, grabbed her face and jerked her head back hard, until he was out of her mouth completely.

"Hmmmmm, no, no," he exhaled sharply, his breathing heavy.

"Sir? What? What did I do wrong?" she asked, worried to death.

He smiled at her. "Not a fucking thing, love."

She frowned in confusion. "But ... you didn't come," she stated matter of fact.

He pushed back the chair, zipped his jeans back up and closed his knees. Still smiling, as if frustrated yet content, he leaned forward, took her by the shoulders and pulled her into his lap; her legs dangling to the side, her drenched pussy soaking into his jeans.

Pushing her head to his shoulder, he said, "You're going to have to wash this pair tomorrow."

She leaned her head back and said, "That was your fault." He laughed and tapped her shoulder. "Sir? Why didn't you ... I mean, it was okay, wasn't it?"

"You silly girl. I didn't want to come. Well, I did, but ... I do have control. How am I to control a sub, you, if I can't control myself?"

She grinned wickedly, and he read right through her. "Did you come, Ms. Boyce?" She shook her head. "Then I do have control over you, do I not?"

"Eh," she sighed and closed her eyes then chuckled. "A little."

Ignoring her smug reply, he said, "Hey, your sister responded."

After Hamish printed the recipe for Gayle, he shut off his computer and they headed upstairs to her bedroom. Removing the butt plug, he commented that he'd be putting in a larger one on Sunday; she moaned her disapproval. Putting the belt back on, she protested that she wouldn't play with herself, if he could trust her just once. He disagreed. He was right to. She sure as shit would have made herself come.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 9, 2014

"Guid morn, lass!" Jessie said as she came into the kitchen and joined Gayle at the kitchen table. "Hower are ye biding thes morn?"

"Hi. Morning! I'm fine, thanks," Gayle replied, hazarding a guess that she had been asked how she was. Would you like some coffee?"

"Nae, thenk ye. Av awreddy hud sae much all be peein' fur days." She laughed.

Handing her the list they discussed, or translated, the different ingredients Jessie didn't understand. It went far beyond the standard, 'po-tay-to' versus 'po-tah-to.'

"Thank you, Jessie. It feels awkward having you get food. I wish I could go on my own. Then again, I'd drive on the wrong side of the road and probably get lost and end up in Ireland." They laughed. "Before you go, though, could we do one load of laundry, just to make sure I've got it right?"

"Ay coorse, hen."

The day went by quickly for Gayle. She'd put in a load of clothes then peel, chop or cut up food for the potato salad, which was done before the load was ready to go in the dryer. Around three she started frying the chicken, thankful he had a cast iron skillet. Without one, fried chicken isn't the true southern fried chicken that she was used to her grandmother making.

After she straightened up the large drawing room it was 4:30, plenty of time to clean herself up before he got home. As she relaxed in the warm, sudsy water, she cursed the belt, being that she couldn't relax as much as she would have liked.

Soon enough she panicked about what kind of punishment was in store for her after dinner. It was highly unlikely she would have any appetite at all. She remembered there would be fifteen somethings, whether that was with a flogger, cane, or even the whip. She prayed she'd still be alive after the last spanking of ... whatever tool he decided to use.

Suddenly her cell phone rang and it startled her. Picking it up, she read, 'I want you to be comfy when I get home. jeans/blouse is fine. meet in kitchen at 6. Help yourself to wine if you'd like.'

"Wine? What?!" she asked Bessie, who was lying on the rug in front of the sink. "He's going to freaking kill me, I just know it!"

She sent, 'maybe with dinner Sir. Will see you then'

'ok Do you know what day it is?'

'Friday, Sir'

'Yes, and it's also punishment day.' It might have only been words in a text, but she could still read the ominous undertone. She didn't reply.

'Do I now have pink briefs after today's wash?'

'Not so much pink but more of a blush rose' She figured she'd counter-attack his threat of the dungeon with humor.

'rofl hope you are kidding'

She laughed. 'Well actually just the waistband is pink'

A second later came, 'behave yourself'

'Never'

His last text was a winking smiley, but she wasn't quite sure how to take that.

-------------------------

For ten minutes Gayle sat at the kitchen table, and with every second that passed more and more butterflies erupted in her stomach, instantly taking away her appetite, just as she thought it would.

Not being able to hear anything from the front door in the kitchen, she did hear a high pitched whistle, which Bessie responded to and tore out of the kitchen. The butterflies then raced up through her esophagus and fluttered out of her mouth. Thinking he'd come straight to the kitchen, she put the three ice cubes in the glass of whisky she'd gotten for him, even though he didn't ask for it.

Then she thought of his slippers -- he hadn't asked about those, either, but would he want them? Shit! she cursed herself. Please, please don't want your slippers!

Five minutes later he and Bessie walked into the room. He was holding his drink and wearing his slippers, as well as a warm smile. She instantly tensed as he sat down across from her, immediately noticing the extra glass.

"Ms. Boyce, I said you could have a glass of wine, not waste my whisky," he said, but the corners of his mouth were raised a bit in a smile.

"I figured since I forgot your damned slippers I'd have your drink waiting for you."

He laughed. "I know. I'm just teasing you." He took the ice cubes out of the second glass, threw them in the sink and placed the full glass beside it. Then he sat back down. "I will have that tomorrow. I don't imbibe before ... I noticed my clothes were folded neatly in the drawers and hung up. Well done." He didn't want to make her any more nervous than he knew she already was.

She smiled with pride. "Thank you, Sir. So, what are we going to do about dinner?"

"We shall rummage through the vast selection in the kitchen and either nuke them or heat them in the oven. Think you can handle that?" he asked sarcastically then grinned.

"Um, was that English?" She laughed.

"Last time I checked." He stood and went to the refrigerator. "Let's see what we have here."

By the time all the plates and bowls were set on the table, Gayle had completely lost her appetite. She looked at the food on her plate and felt like her face paled. She'd eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich but had to force it down. Picking at the meat and swishing the remaining food around with the fork, she knew Hamish was watching her.

"Ms. Boyce, you aren't hungry?"

"No Sir, not really."

"And why is that?"

Oh, she thought, because you are going to beat the shit out of me when we're done and I'm sooo not in the mood to barf up anything I eat now. Instead, she replied honestly, "Because I'm nervous as hell, Sir."

He shook his head, put his fork down, sipped his whisky then reached across the table in search of her hands, which she kept to herself. He huffed and said, "Give me your hands."

She looked up but had trouble looking him in his eyes, but she slid her hands to his until he clinched her fingers. "Gayle, don't do that to yourself. Punishing you isn't to scare you. It's to prevent you from cocking up again. Does that make sense?"

She nodded. "That doesn't make me feel any better, though."

He sighed and squeezed her fingers. "I wasn't going to tell you this, but there are two things that you have to remember. One: I am not going to hurt you. Two: I am going to take it easy on you. You still have your red and yellow. Either of those words will allow you a break until you've gathered yourself."

"I can't get it out of my head." She sighed and took a long swallow of water. "One day after school I boiled some eggs. My girlfriend next door called so I went to talk with her real quick. Half an hour later she asked me what I was having for lunch. I tore back home and was met with the sound of the every smoke alarm going off and the smell of the most ungodly odor you have ever smelt in your life."

"Smelt? That's not English."

"Well, after smelling that I lost a few brain cells." He laughed. "I opened every single window and turned on every fan I could find to clear it out before Mom got home from work two hours later. Let's just say she was as disgusted as I was. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is—"

"Don't ask for boiled eggs?"

"Haha, and no. The panic I felt waiting for her to come home almost killed me. I feel the exact same way now."

"Stay right where you are," he said and walked out.

"Bessie, it's been nice knowing you. I hope you have a long and happy life and breed lots of lovely little Bessies which all pee over his slippers on a daily basis."

Gayle took a few more bites until Hamish came back in with a glass of wine, which he set on the table in front of her; his other arm was behind his back. "Ms. Boyce, choose a hand."

She looked up at him oddly, wondering what kind of game he was playing. "The right one."

Pulling his hand out, he handed her a pair of black, thick slippers with a bow on the tops. Her eyes flew open, but she wasn't sure whether she should smile or not.

"Would I kill you if I'd bought you slippers?" He sat back down.

It took her a second to get her brain to work again. "Um, yes. You could always give them to Jessie for Christmas."

He burst out laughing. "That's very true. At least you've not lost your sense of humor."

She smiled playfully. "Who said I was being funny? Yeah, I get it. I'm still nervous, but I get it. My feet thank you for the slippers."