Margaret Ch. 2

I had previously considered Margaret aloof but I came to see this as an innate superiority. She had said she could be moody and unpredictable and in this she did not lie.

The day after the party in Harry's flat I had gone to hers when I had returned from work and showered. She held the door for me once I had indicated that I wanted to pursue a relationship with her. That sounds so complex, but our exchange was simple. She had seen my submission more clearly than I and she had explained her vision of domination and submission more acutely than I could have done. It was a reflection of mine.

Her flat was warm, the lights low and soft. The table was dressed for dinner although she had not invited me.

"You're expecting someone?"

"He's here, I think," and she raised an eyebrow at me in question.

"I didn't realise..."

"Have you eaten?"

"No but..."

"I thought not. It's not much but will be all we need. We have a lot to discuss."

She had prepared a pasta with salad. She poured me a crisp, dry, white wine and sat opposite me and ate. We talked about work and I described the antics of the Theatre Sister from hell who rules my life with a rod of iron. Her mocking eyebrow lifted again and I stammered that it was not like that.

"I know," and she laughed.

She cleared plates away and brought cheese, coffee and a bottle of brandy. We sat at the table and then it seemed she came to a decision.

"Stand up."

I was engaged in lifting a cup to my mouth and stopped, mid lift and looked at her over the cup's rim.

"Stand." This was delivered quietly but with great force. I stood and replaced my cup at the same time. "Take off your shirt."

I unbuttoned and removed my shirt, fumbling over the buttons.

"Don't rush, just do what I say." Calm, authoritative, spellbinding.

"Turn."

I didn't feel stupid or embarrassed or any recognisable feeling. I just did what she said and turned. I hadn't heard her move but suddenly I felt her fingers alight gently on my shoulder. Her hand was cool, dry and firm. I was trembling. Her nail ran across my shoulder blade to my spine and slowly down it.

"Turn."

I turned and she had stepped away. She stood looking at my face and I felt that she could read me as if my thoughts were printed before her on a hoarding.

"What will you give me?"

I looked at her eyes and answered truthfully, "Me."

She nodded and sat down.

"Good." She motioned for me to approach her. I noticed, as if for the first time, her short blue dress, it's upper half like a shirt with three buttons open at the neck. It was demurely spread across her knees which were slightly apart. When I was within reach she reached to my waist and pulled me so that I stood with one leg either side of her left leg. She undid my belt and unzipped my trousers and pulled them down so I was standing in my underpants.

"Show me." I hesitated, not from embarrassment or disobedience but simple misunderstanding.

"Do it." Now I was embarrassed but pulled my pants away and pulled my penis out.

"What do you call it?"

"I...I don't call it anything."

She laughed and reached up to touch it. She didn't hold it, just touched it with the tip of her finger, her nail running around the end. She reached with her other hand to take my balls and just let them lie in her palm. "And these?"

"Balls."

"She lifted that eyebrow (always the left one) again and smirked.

She pushed her chair backwards and slid her leg from between mine and stood. She put her hands on my shoulders and reached to kiss me, careful not to let my straining penis touch her dress. It was a kiss of possession.

"Take off your clothes and follow me." She turned and went to her bedroom. I took of my shoes and socks, trousers and pants as clumsily as I had removed my shirt. I followed her, drawn by her as surely as if she had a chord tied to my neck.

She pointed at her bed which was covered in a thick, deep duvet in a crisp, white cover.

"Sit."

I sat and watched, enthralled as she undid the buttons of her dress and removed it. She dropped it to the floor and stood, wearing only a black thong, a scrap of lace that was as transparent to me as my needs were to her. Through it I could see no hair. Her breasts were small and came to points which were surmounted with dark, full nipples.

She came close to me and said, "You do exactly what I tell you; always. You will learn what I like and, slowly, I will need to tell you less and less, things will become instinctive." She held my penis. "Never lie to me. Never pretend."

"What... what should I call you."

"My name is Margaret. We both know I am your Mistress, you don't need to call me that. It would make me laugh." She stroked me and, as she did so, leant down to kiss me. "I will look after you and it will be wonderful." She stepped back and took off her thong and slowly opened her legs until her feet were a shoulder's width apart. She touched herself with the lace. She handed it to me. I have marked it, you do the same. I touched it to my end, where I noticed, horrified, that I was sticky and wet. "Cum on it."

She watched my face as I held my penis and began to stroke it." She stared into my eyes. "Now."

I came, my semen rushing from me and onto her panties, too much for the small piece of lace to hold. Her eyes never left mine, nor mine hers. I sat, holding the thong to me, my cum all over my hand.

"That was easy. The hard part is not to cum when I refuse you. Can you do it.?"

"I believe that with your help, I can do anything."

"So do I."

She took the thong from me and put it on the bed beside me. She took my hands and placed them either side of me on the duvet. She held my cock and gently stroked it as she looked into my eyes and kissed me again, steadying herself with her other hand on my shoulder.

When I grew hard again she knelt astride me and lowered herself onto my erection. I remained sitting and held her to me as she moved slowly and surely up and down it. I loved the feeling of her hair on my skin, her flesh on mine and her wetness around me.

She bit my neck. "Not yet, my love." She continued to ride me and each time I felt myself on the brink, as if she knew, she bit me somewhere. Each time until the last, when I could hold back no longer and, as her teeth tightened around my lip, I released. As the semen rushed I tasted blood in my mouth and felt the sting of the bite.

Her eyes lifted to mine. "You will learn." and she bit me again.