So I lay in bed. Just a few minutes ago that bed had had two women in it, then one. Now there were none. I liked it better before.
Maires, who I loved, had taken the riding crop to see Stephanie, who I also loved. Our dynamic was complicated because Stephanie had reacted submissively to Maires as well as to me, and Maires had discovered a dominant streak in herself. At least when it came to Stephanie.
Since I was nominally and perhaps really in charge, I’d granted Maires her wish to explore her new-found dominant side with Stephanie. I was ashamed of myself for it, but I was frightened that they might get on so well that I’d lose them both, and that would destroy all my happiness, possibly for years. But I knew that Stephanie really did love me, and so did Maires.
And both of them liked male energy and smell, and they enjoyed their interactions with cock too much to want to give it up. So I told myself. So I lay alone and tried to get to sleep. I was exhausted, having spent that night as a sexual provider for both of them.
But I heard a gasp from the kitchen. That was Stephanie. Then there was a low conversation, which ended with a slap. It might have been Stephanie’s face, or her bottom. Then I heard Maires. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she did a reasonable imitation of my command voice.
At the end of Maires’s order I heard a quiet sound from Stephanie. I knew she’d just said, “Yes Mistress.”
Then there was silence. I tried not to imagine what might be happening, and I was drifting to sleep when I heard Maires’s orgasm noise. The guttural, grunting, hard one. Stephanie had paid homage, lip and tongue and nose service, to her Mistress.
There was more silence, and then I heard a kitchen chair dragged across the floor. A sharp command from Maires, loud enough so I knew she’d said Stephanie hadn’t been trying hard enough, and to bend over the back of that chair. Now, slave!
Stephanie, and in a different way I, had to wait nearly ten minutes before the flogging started, the unmistakable sharp slap of a riding crop hitting flesh, over and over. Stephanie was using the shaft as well as the tag. Well, she’d always liked the sight of her own stripes.
Stephanie began to whimper, barely audibly from my room though it would be louder in the kitchen. After a time, with Maires still remorseless, the whimpers became cries and ultimately screams. Maires didn’t stop or even slightly vary the speed or force of the strokes. The flogging went on for what felt like an incredibly long time, though I knew it was only about six minutes.
When the strokes stopped coming, Stephanie for some reason only cried out and wailed louder. She ignored Maires’s command, “Silence!” There was another resounding slap, probably Maires’s hand across her cheek, and Stephanie stopped her noise, instantly.
There was another murmured command, and as silence resumed I knew this time what was happening. And though I’d been exhausted, my cock was taking an interest and taking on blood. I seemed to be developing an erection again.
The silence continued until Maires came again. It wasn’t quite as loud as her first orgasm, but there was no question that she was enjoying herself. I heard Stephanie say something. It was the hesitant question of a submissive afraid she’d failed to please.
So Maires, I took it, gave her notes on how better to please her. After a few minutes the kitchen chair jerked again and then the flogging resumed, with Stephanie responding high and pained to each stroke. I would not have flogged Stephanie so hard. Maires was pitiless. I had a sense, though, that this was what Stephanie had wanted, and that Maires was right.
After a long time Maires stopped. Stephanie had wailed and screamed throughout her flogging, but after the last stroke she fell silent immediately without being told. After a few seconds I heard her say, loudly by her standards, “Thank you, Mistress.”
Then more silence, followed at last by Maires’s third orgasm, sounding more wrenched from her than her first two.
I waited for Stephanie’s third flogging, but it didn’t come. Instead I heard rustling and kitchen drawers opened and shut. After a while I heard the slap of crop on flesh again. Incredibly, they were moving. The crop sounded every fifteen to twenty seconds. They passed my bedroom door and went on to the bathroom.
There I expect Maires allowed Stephanie to inspect the state of her bottom and thighs in the mirror. The shower ran, and afterwards I assume that Stephanie received an anointment of cold cream and perhaps even, finally, a loving word from Maires.
At last I heard a knock on the lower panels of my bedroom door.
