Emanuel J. - The Mistresses Next Door - Episode 1

“Yes, my mistress.”

“What did you hear?”

“That I must obey your every command...” Further words gushed out of his heart, he could not hold back. Even if his love was perhaps “only” for her role and less for her person, she was no less important for it, especially since he no longer recognized any difference between the role and the person anyway.

A smile resonated in her words, “Nice to hear. I'll do anything for that... And now you must finally make up for the greeting.”

With his ass burning, he turned around and saw the two women standing next to each other a few steps away from him, Isabel still with the crop in her hand. Without a moment's hesitation, he sank to his knees in front of them and approached Franziska’s left boot. In many photos he had already seen something like this, half fascinated and half repulsed. He had sometimes fantasised about it, only to be ashamed again, because in the eyes of the normal world there was nothing more shameful. And never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined he would actually have to do it. Carefully he let his tongue glide over the smooth leather, over the instep and up the inside to the knee. It was more exciting than he could ever have imagined, because the boots were not inanimate objects, but an extension of the body of his adored mistress. Adding to the excitement, Isabel’s sandals awaited his attention. He now turned to kiss the delicate toes. He tried to suck them but could not, the sandals were too tight. So, he licked them devoutly, while he heard Isabel's voice saying, “It's funny to get your feet kissed as if you were a queen. But I think I could get used to it... Especially since the roles are reversed, it’s not always the woman who has to display affection.”

Daniel, too, found such an exchange of roles commendable, but couldn't say anything about it, since he had turned to Franziska again and was busy licking her right boot, snaking his tongue around the high stiletto heel, after which he turned to Isabel's right sandal. The fact that his mouth had become dry and dull from the shoe polish didn't bother him, he would have loved to keep going, but he wasn't allowed to, Franziska ordered him to stand up. Regretfully he relinquished Isabel's titillating toes and raised his upper body, kneeling to look up at the two women.

Satisfied, Franziska smiled at him, while Isabel looked at him half surprised and half excited, “He seems to have been pretty turned on by it.”

Awkwardly, he tried to hide his swollen cock with his hand, pretending not to hear her.

Reprimand rose in Franziska's voice, “Don't you want to talk to her?”

Talk? About that? Weren't there a lot of other topics they could have talked about? Her admonishing look told him that other topics did not interest her at that moment, and he stumbled over his words, “Yeah, it turned me on... pretty much...” He could not address her as he addressed Franziska, the role of mistress did not suit her, he believed she should be a slave as he was.

Franziska looked at him disapprovingly, “Is that supposed to be an answer? I think you should ask her forgiveness for your impertinence!”

Should he? Well, there was the stick that could really hurt a lot, and then there was the throbbing, tingling sensation that his submission gave him, inflaming his dick as he knelt before the women. Again, he raised his eyes to Isabel, “Please forgive my unseemly tone, my lady.”

She nodded kindly as Franziska's face brightened as if an idea had come to her, “Give us a little more pleasure. Stroke your cock!”

Stroke your cock? He knew those words, didn't he? Is that what she meant? He looked at her questioningly. But he wasn't allowed to look at her questioningly! He knew what she meant, saw her squinting at the crop and knew that he could not hesitate any longer. Gently he clasped his dick with his hand and began to play gently with it, moving his hand up and down slowly.

Isabel sounded dumbfounded, “What did you teach him there? That's perverted.” But not only did she find it perverse, she also seemed to find it stimulating (maybe she enjoyed the same thing), at any rate she watched spellbound as his penis twitched with arousal in his hand, he handled it very carefully so that no misfortune should befall him, “I've never watched a man do that before. How interesting, such a slave ... Only this mistress does not suit me. You're his mistress. He should call me by another name.”

“How?”

“I don't know, I don't know,” again she looked down on Daniel, “You're a writer. Can't you think of something?”

Oh, now it was his job now? How could he think when all the blood was rushing away from his head? However, there was one idea, albeit a very strange one: “My domina?”

Wrinkles formed on her forehead, “Are you serious? Are you calling me a prostitute? You want me to take your money?” She sighed hard, “I could use it... But you don't have any of your own,” thinking, she looked down at him. “There must be some suitable word... Don't you have any idea what you'd like to call me?”

Yes! Now he knew. In a novel, he had read some time ago, a very nice mode of address, “Lady Isabel? Would you like that?”

“Lady Isabel?” She wondered the words, “Yes, that sounds good... Beautiful, actually.” Her hand hovered benevolently over his head, “You're a genius.”

With the lightest touch, he continued to play with himself, he was so close to orgasm, the ultimate in humiliation before the two women, a helpless eruption of losing control, leaving him shaking and limp before them. Of course, it was also forbidden. With every tiny hand movement his cock twitched greedily, his whole lower body pulsated as he knelt before them trembling. Small sighs of pleasure escaped his lips, impossible to conceal.

Franziska smiled amusedly, “I don't know if he's a genius or not, but he's definitely ingenious,” her enquiring gaze turned to him. “Do you like to do that even when you're alone? How often do you jerk off in your bed at night? Or do you do it somewhere else?”

What was he supposed to say? The truth? And be labelled a perv? Or a flagrant and obvious lie that would portray him as an innocent lamb, chaste and without any carnal desire? Which nobody would believe anyway. He opted for the middle ground, “Not very often, my lady.”

“Not very often? What am I supposed to do with an answer like that? Let's make things clear: From now on, there is no orgasm for you without Isabel or me allowing you to have it. Do you understand?”

That was a very challenging order. Even though he was of course willing to obey it, he would not have bet on complete success. This was, after all, a cruel hand to be dealt. And his hand would be elsewhere in moments of temptation anyway. But he kept his doubts to himself, “Yes, my mistress.”

Franziska's gaze was sceptical, because apparently, she now also realized what she was asking of him, “Unfortunately, we can't control it. But you can count on us to figure it out sooner or later if you cheat on us. Quite apart from the fact that your conscience will torture you, since you long to be a good slave. You do, don't you?”

“Yes, my lady. There's nothing I crave more,” at least this affirmation he could give freely, as it reflected the truth. The statement pushed him dangerously close to the edge, he struggled not to come there and then. It was happening, he was losing control, his cock convulsing of its own accord, his entire body strained for sweet release while he tried his best to overcome it with his mind. He pleaded for mercy, fearing the humiliation of losing control, fearing the punishment that would inevitably ensue. “Please, my mistress... I’m going to come...” She generously allowed him to let go of his dick, but the penis, even completely untouched, still sprung up as if under an external power, and all his self-control was necessary to hold back the overwhelming tides to pleasure that threatened to burst their dams and ruin him. He squirmed and grimaced with the effort.