Bedroom Eyes 32

Stephanie, now blessed with the slave name scallop, stood naked with her feet apart, her hands on her head. She watched, because I’d allowed it, Maires, who was both her Mistress and her sister submissive, sucking her Master’s cock.

As that Master, it felt good being in Maires’s warm, wet and busy mouth, but I’d already come in both of them, more than once, in that long and eventful evening and night. My cock was not rising to the occasion. Finally, I took a handful of Maires’s hair, pulled her head up to mine and kissed her.

She straddled my thigh then, and rubbed her wet self on me. She was a horny slavegirl, stuck with an exhausted Master.

I smiled at her, and glanced at Stephanie, only my eyes moving, not my head. She caught that and nodded: “Yes, what about her?”, her look meant.

I said, “Don’t stop, Maires. You have my permission to come on my thigh whenever you’re ready.”

She closed her eyes and worked harder. “Thank you, Master.”

I looked at Stephanie. “Scallop.”

“Yes, Master?” There was hope in her voice: she was going to be included at last!

“I want you to go to the kitchen and make a two-egg omelette for Maires and me. With two pieces of toast. One plate, two sets of knives and forks. And two glasses of OJ. You are not allowed to have food or drink yourself. You’re not to sneak a drink or, I don’t know, a biscuit. Nothing for you.”

Her face became very serious. She thought that idea, especially the words “nothing for you”, was hot.”Yes, Master. May scallop leave the room?”

“You’ve been given an order, scallop. Try to use your brains. Hurry up!”

“Yes, Master.” Stephanie turned, hands still on her head, and opened the door, which was slightly ajar, with her foot. She left. Shortly I heard cupboard draws and the fridge opening and the start of food-assembly noises.

Maires looked at me, still undulating on my thigh. “Are you going to fuck Stephanie – I mean Scallop – again tonight?”


“Is she going to be allowed to come?”


She paused, then pressed against me harder. “God. She’ll feel that worse than the cane. Or the crop. Are you punishing her?”


“You think this is what she wants. I couldn’t stand being ignored. You’re being cruel.”

“Thank you! She’s a different kind of submissive from you. You, you like surrendering, you like some carefully applied pain, and you like to serve.”

“Get all that in one package, and I’ll call him Master.”

“I’m very, very lucky and happy to have you, But she needs something different.”

“I can feel it. When I rode her and made her do me in the bathroom, I was playing. At least I still had the part of my mind that watches and makes sure everything’s safe. But she was a hundred per cent into it; she didn’t hold anything back. She really does want to be your possession. And mine too.”

Having said that she sped up. Her face took on an expression I knew: she was close to coming. I said, “This is a longer-term game, and I’ll need your help. But until tomorrow evening Stephanie is nothing, nothing to you or me except a useful slave. Then we’re going to take her really hard, and she’ll scream the house down when she comes.”

Maires grinned then. “I suppose she’s a lucky girl then, even if I’d go mental if you treated me like that. What do I do to help, Master?”

“You don’t touch her. No punishment, no pleasure, no affection. Keep your hands off her. But you can use her like a slightly useful, not at all sexy robot. If you’re reading, you tell her to come and turn the page for you; things like that. In the morning you’ll tell her to scrub the bathroom, from floor to ceiling.”

“Then I have to find something she did wrong? So I can punish her?”

“It doesn’t have to be fair. Just tell her it’s not good enough. Then cane her till she cries, and a bit more after that.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“Not fucking her after I punish her: that’s going to be hard. Scallop gets so yummy, just so turned on and confused and hot when she takes discipline. But then I’m the shallow slavegirl; she’s the deep one. After I’ve caned her I unleash her on the kitchen, right?”

“Yes. I’ll set her some tasks too. But she also has to spend some time just watching us have fun, without being allowed to join in. Then at seven we lovebomb her. Lots of love and fucks. And we can tell her the truth about how wonderful we think she is.”

Maires, still using my thigh as her sex toy, stared into my eyes, puzzled at first, but her expression slowly cleared. “Did you plan everything with me like that?”

“I had to get an idea of what you like first. But pretty much. Yes.”

“God.” Then she closed her eyes. Her pussy pressed hard on my leg, and she stopped moving. Her knees and feet were in the air. her hands clutched my shoulder while she lifted her face and upper body. She yowled into the air, then said, “god. Fuck. Thank you, Master.”

There was an oddly flat sound at the door, as if Stephanie was using an object to knock on the door. “Master? Mistress? May scallop enter the room?”

I said, as if I was angry, “You were told to bring us food, scallop. Can you do that without coming in?”

“Of course not, Master. Sorry, Master.”

“Stupid girl.”

The door opened, and scallop – I suppose I should call her that when she really isn’t being Stephanie – entered, with an omelette place, glasses, knives and forks on a tray. I bit back the urge to smile or tell her she was a good girl. “Put the tray on the bed, scallop.”

“Yes, Master.” She put the tray down and looked at me, hoping for praise. Or punishment. Both would be welcome.

“Get down on all fours, scallop. Hands and knees. Keep your back straight. Don’t move.”

Her eyes showed that she’d worked out that she was about to be our table. “Yes, Master.” She dropped to the floor, and presented her back as a slightly curved but, after adjustment, essentially horizontal surface.

Scallop’s bottom and legs were red, with stripes from cane and crop emerging from the generalised blotch left by her spankings. Some of the riding crop stripes Maires had applied to her legs while the two girls were playing horsey would probably bruise. But she was beautiful furniture.

Maires left the bed and picked up the tray. She set the dinner things out on scallop’s presented back. I nodded at her, and she sat herself cross-legged at scallop’s side, facing me.

She touched nothing, not food and not scallop. She said, “Dinner is served, Master.”

Bedroom Eyes 31

I entered Maires’s ass, easily. Maires was turned on and relaxed, and Stephanie was trying to show she was a good girl: told to lubricate Maires’s ass, she’d been diligent. I pressed forward, less abrupt than I sometimes am. I was in a gentle, loving mood.

Maires usually prefers me to be a Dom who makes things happen, and if some of them hurt, that’s more than OK. Steph also seemed to prefer me to be a hard man, not just in terms of my cock, but in my conduct towards her.

Being loving was self-indulgence, and too much would make them both unhappy.

So gentleness is not an unmixed blessing, but I felt loving towards them both. Slowly and reprehensibly gently I fucked Maires’s ass, my hands on hers as she grabbed a handful of the bottom sheet and some mattress protector, my cock hard but moving comfortably, I hoped comfortingly, in her rectum. 

Maires put her calves and ankles on mine as I buggered her, so I knew she was starting to feel the emotion behind this. I kissed her shoulderblade, and reached back and smacked the side of her ass, so that she could know all was well in the world. We moved together after that, Maires tightening her rectal muscles as I withdrew and relaxing as I pushed forward. I’d trained her to do that, long ago, with a lot of use of the riding crop and cane, but she knew what was right, now. We made love.

Stephanie watched us fucking. I’m sure she desired us both, and we made a stirring, hot, sight: a gentle, sensual buttfuck. But she was left out.

This was an odd thing. I wanted her to feel excluded and only a spectator to pleasure, because I believed she would discover that that sensation confirmed her deeply enslaved status, and therefore it’d be sexual for her.

That was my goal, but doing that sort of thing is always a risk. I desperately didn’t want to make her genuinely unhappy. I just wanted her to find an even deeper level of submission to fall into and occupy.

Ignoring Stephanie’s sexual wants was my way of giving her love. I don’t say that to make excuses: it was what I hoped I was doing, and that she’d take pleasure in. She’d showed herself to be more deeply submissive than Maires was, and I was trying to make her happy by putting her in a position that objectively seemed miserable. BDSM is about emotion, and it’s rarely simple.

Maires said, “Fuck, fuck me, fuck,” low and gutteral in her throat. In answer I smacked her again, harder, and sped up. Now we were fucking like a Master and slave, faster, and she began to squeal, while I made deeper, bear-growl noises.

Maires gasped, “Can I come, Master?”, and I shook my head, then remembered to say no.

Eventually, when I was ready to come in her, I said, “Yes, girl: now!” and she was wailing, beautiful and distraught, before I’d come.

Afterwards we were both out of breath, and Maires rolled onto her side, dislodging me. She was still puffing when she said, “I really want your cock, Master. Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

I said, “Jesus, Maires. I mean, yes, but I doubt if I’ll be up again for …”

Then I remembered Stephanie. I was being cruel to Stephanie, and I hoped she was enjoying that, even though I wasn’t touching her. I said, “Scallop.” That was her new slavename, given her no more than half an hour ago.

“Yes, Master?”

“Your Mistress wants to suck my cock. So clean my cock first, Scallop. Warm wet cloth. Fast!”

“Of course, Master!” She meant, I can do so much more than that: why don’t you tell me to? But she hurried to the bathroom, Maires and I both watching her cane-striped bottom as she moved.

Maires put her hand on Stephanie’s face when she returned, rubbing my cock with the toweling cloth in a way she hoped I might find worth my attention. When she’d finished the cleaning part of her task, though she showed no desire to stop, I knocked Maires’s hand away and said, “Back to your place, Scallop.”

She was disappointed, I knew, but she obeyed. “Yes, Master.” She stood alone, naked, legs parted, hands on head. Of course she was beautiful, and Maires and I were both in love with her. But Maires had begun to understand what I was doing. She ignored Stephanie, and lowered her head to take me in her mouth.

Two lovers made love. Stephanie, the third, stood apart, alone. Neglected, though she was the centre of my attention and perhaps Maires’s. I had to take it on faith that this was hot for her.

But her ordeal would have to last a while yet.