Tiffany Reisz - The Mistress Files

The Mistress moved slowly...tracing circles around Sheridan’s breast with a fingertip before spiraling up to her nipple and back down again. Pinches turned to gentle kneading and back again. Soon Sheridan’s chest moved in rapid pants and her nipples turned from pale pink to red.

“Are you enjoying this, Little Miss?”

“So much...you really know what you’re doing.”

“I’ve got a gift for giving women orgasms. I give myself an orgasm at least once a day.”

Sheridan giggled again and her blush deepened. Good. Flushed skin was one of the telltale signs of an aroused woman. But it would take more than just stimulating her body to get Sheridan to orgasm. The Mistress needed to get inside her mind.

“You know, Little Miss, this isn’t my only job,” The Mistress said as she ran her fingers over Sheridan’s collarbone, giving her breasts a moment to recover from all the attention. “I’m also a writer.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I write erotica. I love a good sexy story. Reading them, writing them, hearing them.”

“Me, too. I learned all about sex from my mother’s romance novels. I think that’s why when Rex came on to me that first time, I jumped at the chance. I couldn’t wait to try out all this stuff I’d been reading about.”

“How did the reality of sex compare to the fictional version?”

Sheridan sighed. “It was definitely different. I was in my dad’s office for one thing. In the books, they’re always in a bed...or maybe a carriage, not bent over an armchair or flat on a desk.”

“Never fucked in a carriage. I’ll have to put that on my bucket list. Continue.”

“It hurt more than I expected. In the books there’s always just this quick stab of pain and then ecstasy.”

“Well, it’s the writer’s way of throwing in some drama to an otherwise simple and natural act. But too much pain and drama, and it turns into a horror story.”

Sheridan grinned and lifted her hips. Another good sign. Sheridan couldn’t seem to stop moving her lower body. That meant she was feeling something in the right spot.

“It wasn’t a horror story. Definitely. It just really burned going in. I was wet and excited but not ready. Not really. The next time was a lot better.”

“Can you remember your favorite time with him? The best sex? The best orgasm?”

“Yes. Like it was yesterday.”

“Tell me about it. I’m going to start touching your clit, by the way, while you tell me about the best sex you ever had. Don’t argue with me about it.”

“I wouldn’t.” She shook her head and took a quick, deep breath. “I was eighteen, just turned eighteen...about to leave Chicago and move to New York. I’d done some commercials and got an agent. My dreams were coming true. But...”

“But you had to leave Rex behind.”

“Right. I didn’t want him to know I was going. If he tried to talk me out of it, he might have. So I knew it would be our last time for a few months at least. I went to his house one evening. He wasn’t expecting me. My flight left the very next morning, but I didn’t tell him that.”

“What did he do?”

“He opened the door and saw him standing on the stoop. And he pulled me inside and without saying anything he kissed me.”

“Very nice.”

“I loved when he did that. Every time I showed up on his doorstep, I was afraid I’d make him mad. Maybe he’d have company over or something and wish I hadn’t shown up. I wasn’t even his mistress. I was just his dirty secret. But every time I went over there...yeah, just like that.”

“And then?”

“And then he was all over me...right in the foyer. I had on a plaid skirt—”

“How very Catholic schoolgirl of you.”

“Episcopal actually.”

“Don’t kill my lady-boner. I’m pretending it was Catholic. Go on. He was all over you how?”

“Hands everywhere. Mouth everywhere. He liked to bite when he kissed me. My lips and tongue and neck and ears. He’d dig under my skirt and shove his hand into my panties.”

“You wore panties around him? Such a waste of time.”

“Only because I loved hearing him grunt with frustration when he had to drag them off of me.”

“I like your style. And I’m about to touch your clit and vagina. Continue.”

Sheridan stiffened but kept talking.

“So yes...plaid skirt,” Sheridan said and inhaled right as The Mistress put her fingertip gently to her clitoris. Her whole body tensed but The Mistress did nothing and said nothing, merely waited. Sheridan continued. “And there was this table in the foyer—fancy table. His housekeeper always kept fresh flowers on it.”

“How nice.” The Mistress gently kneaded Sheridan’s clitoris with one finger. The attentions The Mistress had paid to Sheridan’s breasts had sent the blood flowing in the right direction. Sheridan’s labia had started to open and her clitoris had swollen slightly.

“Those poor flowers never knew what hit them. Everything on that table hit the floor when Rex bent me over it.”

“That devil,” The Mistress said as she lightly increased the pressure on Sheridan’s clitoris, increased the speed of her movements.

“He was.”

“Tell me what you remember feeling. Tell me in detail. And while you’re talking, try to remember every sensation he aroused in you....” The Mistress ran a single finger up and down the seam of Sheridan’s vagina. “While you remember, imagine yourself getting wetter and wetter, think of all the blood rushing to your labia and your vagina opening....”

Sheridan inhaled slowly and nodded her head. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Now keep talking. I might go inside you soon.”

The Mistress watched Sheridan’s thin fingers dig into the silk of the cushions. But she raised no protest.

“So Rex bent me over this table in the foyer. I remember the cool slick wood under my right cheek. I held onto the sides as he dragged my panties down my legs.”

Again and again, The Mistress ran her finger up and down Sheridan’s slit and felt it grow wetter and warmer to the touch.

“And once he had my panties off, he shoved my legs open. Practically kicked them open.”

“Wicked man. You must have loved it.”

“God, yes. I was scared, though. It was all happening so fast and Rex was pretty big. He could hurt me if he went in too fast.”

“I think most men need the word foreplay tattooed on their cocks. Like a Post-it note—just permanent.”

Sheridan grinned as she lifted her hips a few inches off the pillow. Squirmy thing. Another good sign.

“Truth. But that time Rex managed to control himself enough. He dropped to his knees and buried his face in me.”

“There might be some redemption for this man. Continue.”

The Mistress pressed open Sheridan’s labia. The girl was soaking wet inside. Gently The Mistress massaged her outer lips in an effort to bring even more blood flowing to her clitoris.

“He attacked me with his tongue, pushed it all the way inside me. It was weird feeling him at that angle. Usually when he went down on me I was on my back, not on my stomach sprawled across a table. But it was a good weird, a good angle. I got so wet you could hear it when he stuck his fingers in me.”

“How many fingers?”

“Three or four. Can’t remember. Couldn’t tell. They slid right in, I was so wet by then. Slid in deep. He traded off...he used his fingers on me for a minute or two...then back to oral—he loved to lick me. He’d spread me open really wide and just dive in face first.”

“If he loves going down on women, he can’t be all that bad.”

“He wasn’t...really, he wasn’t. And sometimes he was even good.”

“When he was fucking you?”