Yes, Ma'am Read online

  Shit. I knew he had to be eighteen to get hired for his job, but the scraggly state of his thin almost-beard told me he wasn’t much older than that. That asshole was a fast learner, though. He gently licked the side of her neck.

  “Will you tell me what you want once I start, you know, tonguing you, ma’am? I’ve heard it’s different for each woman. Kind of like how each pool has its own chemistry, depending on the light and the number of people who use it and all.” His voice cracked again, but he kept right on moving his tongue. “I want to do you right, ma’am—especially with it being your wedding night and all.”

  The pool boy! My wife was seducing the fucking pool boy on our first day as a married couple! And she was doing it right in front of me! I leaned slowly onto my elbow, trying to keep the room from spinning.

  “Actually, it’s the day after my wedding, dear. My husband slept through our wedding night.”

  The acid in Valerie’s voice had me once more lowering myself to the couch. I was pissed at the sight of that asshole nuzzling her, but I was sobering up enough to realize what I’d really done the night before. I’d done shots until I passed out at my own wedding reception. Fuck, I could only hope I hadn’t gotten sick until after Al had carried me from the hall! And even after I’d gotten to the honeymoon suite, which I sure as hell hadn’t done under my own power, I’d spent the night on the bathroom floor. No champagne in the heart-shaped bathtub. No taking Valerie’s stockings down with my teeth. No eating her freshly shaved pussy until she screamed. I sure as hell had been in no condition for traditional “consummate the wedding” sex. Valerie had every right to be pissed. I was honestly wondering if I’d done irreparable damage to my marriage with my idiocy.

  “That’s so wrong, ma’am,” Pool Boy said fervently. His hand cupped her breast as he kissed his way farther down. “You deserve better than that.”

  “I’m sure you’ll give it to me,” Valerie said sweetly. Her eyes met mine just long enough for me to be very certain that if I said one more word now, my next ones would be to a lawyer, on the losing end of a divorce settlement.

  “I sure will, ma’am!” Pool Boy’s face was fading in the gauze of her nightgown as he slowly knelt in front of her. He parted the front of her robe with his hands. That’s when I realized she didn’t have her honeymoon nightgown on underneath. She was wearing just the sheer white robe—and her white garter belt and thigh-high white silk stockings. His “Mmmmm!” as he nuzzled her stomach had me seeing red again. When I tried to lift my head, though, my eyes almost watered with the pain. I took a deep breath and resigned myself to watching from the isolation of my place on the couch.

  With one more hard look, Valerie turned away from me, and rested her hands lightly on his head.

  “Your mouth is very soft and you have very nice hands, dear.” She laughed softly as he nuzzled his face against her belly. “As I told you, we can’t have actual sex. That does have to be part of consummating my marriage. I assume my husband will sober up enough to do his duty later.” Her voice left no doubt I’d still be making that legal appointment if I couldn’t. “But in the meanwhile, I’d like you to lick my pussy until I come so hard I scream. In return, I’ll give you a blow job that will make you see stars.”

  “Wow, ma’am! That would be so cool!” The little asshole sounded like he was about to cream in his jeans. His head moved lower. “Your skin’s so soft. Oh, WOW!”

  Valerie had moved one leg to the side, shifting her weight as she pulled his head closer to her.

  “I can smell you, ma’am. Your pussy’s awesome!” He lifted one hand. “May I touch you—please?”

  “With your tongue,” she said firmly. The conviction in her voice stopped his hand in midair. “While I will permit you to touch me all over with your fingers later, this first time you will touch only my clit, and you will do it solely with your tongue.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” His voice came out in a little gurgle. Then he stuck his tongue out far enough to catch flies and leaned forward. His “MMMMM!” blended with Valerie’s as he buried his face between her legs.

  “Fuck.” If either of them heard my quiet expletive, they gave no sign of it. Pool Boy’s face was buried in Valerie’s crotch, his head moving side to side and up and down, each moan making Valerie smile as he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her close. She threw her head back, closing her eyes. Even from this distance, I could see her nipples were so hard they were poking out into the robe.

  “Your tongue is delightful.” Her voice showed her pleasure as she rocked back on her heels, opening herself further to him. “You may use your fingertips to part my pussy lips further. I would like you to lick directly on my clit. YES!” She gasped and arched forward. “Just there! Long slow licks. Oh, yes!”

  She shuddered so hard, I was afraid she’d lose her balance. But Pool Jerk had her balanced so well, she didn’t fall. She tightened her grip on his hair.

  “Now flick your tongue over the stiff part. Yes. A little higher …higher…YES! Now a bit to the left. OOH!” She bucked forward. “Yes! Oh, yes! Right there! Don’t stop!”

  She jerked again, wailing as Pool Boy braced her with his arms. Her pleas turned into cries of ecstasy that told me he was staying on target with the tenacity of a heat-seeking missile. Valerie was going to come any moment, and she was going to come hard.

  Her first orgasm as my wife, and she was getting it from another man. I was pissed and ashamed and too sorry for words—and as the smell of her pussy filled the room, I was so horny, I could hardly stand it. I slid my hand down to my crotch. My vision was clearing, and I was finally sobering up enough to get hard. My blushing bride was about to come in front of me—because the fucking pool boy was eating her pussy into fits. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I stroked my shaft instead.

  Valerie squealed, her shoulders rocking as she clutched that asshole pool boy’s head to her crotch. He groaned and slurped, his face bobbing against her as she shuddered and moaned. When she finally pushed his head away, her face was flushed and her nipples were taut. She was so gorgeous, my cock was leaking into my hand.

  And her eyes were open again. With her gaze locked on mine, she tenderly patted Pool Boy’s head. “That was lovely, dear. Now carry me to the bed, so you can give me another orgasm before I take your delectable young cock into my mouth.”

  Carry her. I’d been too drunk to carry her over the threshold last night. I mouthed the words I’m sorry, but I couldn’t tell if she’d seen. She had her arms around that asshole’s shoulder and he was already lifting her legs over his other arm.

  “I’d be honored, ma’am.” The muscles in his arms rippled as he carried her effortlessly. He laid her gently in the middle of the bed, with her head and shoulders on the huge pile of pillows. Valerie smiled and pulled her legs up. The snow white tops of her stockings framed the creamy smooth skin of her freshly shaved and well-licked labia, the perfect pink inside her glorious slit, and the tiny dusky pucker in back.

  Fuck, my first sight of her totally shaved pussy was with another man’s tongue zeroing in on it! Pool Boy lay between her legs, still wearing his jeans and T-shirt, his trainers still on his feet. His hands were flat on her thighs, spreading her wide as he once more lowered his head to her slit. I was at just the right angle to see every long, slow swipe of his tongue as he laved her ultrasensitive, freshly shaved pussy lips, every closed-lipped pucker as he sucked her clit—every deep, wiggling thrust as he speared his tongue into her cunt hole. It wasn’t long before Valerie was wailing again, her hips bucking up as he once more licked an earsplitting orgasm from her pussy.

  I squeezed my cock to keep from coming. Pool Boy’s hips thrust against the covers, and the smell of semen filled the room. Shit—the little asshole had shot his load into his jeans! Valerie was going to be so fucking disappointed—for the second time.

  As he stammered out his red-faced apologies, Valerie stroked his hair and told him not to worry. She said he was a delightful love
r and she was flattered beyond words that he’d been so aroused by eating her pussy. Then she dropped the bombshell.

  “My husband and I will be here on our honeymoon through next weekend. If you come back every morning at this same time, I’ll let you tongue my pussy in the sixty-nine position while I give you your blow job. After that, if my husband has decided to embrace sobriety, you can show him how to prepare my pussy for his cock.” Her voice got flat. “Or he can stay on the couch and I’ll file for an annulment.”

  The look in Valerie’s eyes told me I had about two seconds flat to make up my mind. I nodded my agreement as Pool Boy enthusiastically gave his consent. Then I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep while she saw him to the door. My partying days were over, I knew that for a fact.

  Valerie closed the door and locked it. Then she walked to the couch, threw off my covers, and straddled me. My head was still killing me and I knew I’d be nauseous every time I looked at a gin label for the rest of my life. But as her warm, wet, well-licked pussy slid down over my throbbing cock, I knew I was the luckiest sonofabitch on the face of this earth. I slid my hands under the sheer silk of her nightie, cupped her breasts, and proceeded to show her just how grateful I was.

  FLASH

  Alison Tyler

  What will you do for me?

  Anything you want.

  Anything?

  Yes, Ma’am. Anything.

  Kinde and I met in an Internet chatroom. I impressed her with my ability to type a good line. To role-play. To build a fantasy that twenty-three other anonymous partners could partake of. Still, even though I managed to intrigue her, the online world is something of an enigma to me. On the Internet, I play a woman. In real life, I am all man. Kinde claims that she plays herself online. I am interested to see if this is the case. When we meet face-to-face, I will know for sure.

  In the online room, she was a Dominant with a capital D. She held court effortlessly, and the players around her scurried to obey. I did, as well. I’m not proud. Cyberspace is the one place where I can truly be myself. Where I can put down the need to constantly be the one in charge, the one who tells other people what to do. I don’t know why I need this—I really don’t. But I do. Need this, I mean. I do need to bend down, to kneel down, to get as low down as I possibly can.

  Kinde seemed to understand.

  To my delight, I was able to capture her interest with my witty remarks, and ultimately she invited me to join her in a private room. Nervously, I agreed. I find blending easy in a chatroom; one-on-one is a different story.

  Alone, we continued our fantasy play.

  What will you do for me? she typed.

  Anything, I told her.

  Easy to say, she replied.

  Truly, Ma’am, I assured her. I’ll do anything.

  She had a camera. She tied me up and took pictures, spread my legs and observed my cunt under a magnifying glass. I liked the concept, found that I enjoyed being exposed and having to describe the way my pussy grew wetter with every single shot. The experience was completely safe for me since, after all, the whole of it was a farce.

  We both took turns climaxing (I’m getting pretty good at typing one-handed, I must say), and then we chatted a bit, in that postcoital way people do. If we could have, I believe that we would have smoked a virtual cigarette together, passing the butt back and forth through the screen. Still I was surprised to learn that she lived in L.A., too, more surprised when she asked me to meet her.

  In real life.

  To see, she said, if the connection is real.

  Real. I read the word on-screen. But nothing in cyberspace is real, is it? That’s why I was always so easily able to spill out my fantasies. Because I could click off the computer with a single switch if the situation got too hot for me. If I felt I might get burned.

  Suddenly, the fun and games part of the online world felt too heavy. In a flash, the experience had transformed from casual flirtatious banter between a Dom woman and a girl sub to a silence that seemed somehow to scream.

  Kinde must have been surprised. Up until now, I had responded to her every request with lightning speed. But that’s when she was Mistress Kinde, and I was a fawning little sub. Now, she’d changed the game, changed the rules. Now, I was pacing around my office like a caged beast. Walking up to the computer, then backing away slowly, as if she could actually see me. I felt myself stammering with the urge to come clean, but my fingers would not work on the keyboard.

  R U there? she typed after nearly a minute had passed—an eternity of silence. I stared at the blinking cursor. Then, finally: I have a confession. I said the words aloud as I typed them, wondering how they would play on her end.

  You have a confession—what?

  I’d forgotten the rules. I have a confession, Ma’am, I typed.

  Yes? The word came back instantly. I could practically hear the chill in her tone. Arctic ice that would never melt.

  I’m not actually a woman. And then, because I’d forgotten again. Ma’am. I’m not a woman, Ma’am.

  There was a whole lot more silence after that, always interesting in an online conversation. Dead air when neither player types. Had she decided to cancel the invitation? I wouldn’t have blamed her for a moment if she did. But to my relief, she wrote, Naughty boy, and I felt my cock stiffen once more.

  Sorry, I typed. Ma’am.

  I still want to meet you, she wrote back. I pride myself on being able to read people. I’m curious how you were able to fool me.

  In our online scenario, she had on black vinyl slacks and a red vinyl lace-up vest. She described herself as a brunette with pale skin and dark eyes. But online, I had a pussy, so we all know where that will get you.

  Now, I found myself nervous for so many reasons. What if she didn’t look like she’d said? She knew I didn’t. There was no reason for her to have been honest with me. But what if I didn’t like her? What if we didn’t connect? For the first time in my life, I realized I might actually get what I wanted. And the thought of it terrified me.

  Come on, I urged. Send me a picture.

  You’ll know me when you see me, she assured me.

  One photo, I begged. But nothing. Served me right for lying in the first place, didn’t it?

  We chose to meet at a local coffee shop, a neutral location, and she was right. I knew her in an instant, the first person I’d ever heard of who didn’t lie online. She was gorgeous, and I felt my heart beat nervously as I walked toward her.

  I create different personas when I go online, but in the real world I am a tall, powerfully built male, with black hair and blue eyes. I know that women find me attractive. I’m not saying that to be bold or pompous. I’m saying that because it’s the truth. But I didn’t care what other women have thought in the past—I wanted her to like me.

  When she turned to meet my gaze, she smiled, and I felt myself start to relax. Coffee would be good. We’d get to know each other. We’d bond. But then she stood and took my hand, leading me from the place. She was in charge in real life now, as she had been online.

  We went back to her studio in Santa Monica, a sleek condo near the beach. Inside, there was little furniture and lots of pictures, artsy black-and-white shots covering almost every bit of wall space. She didn’t speak as she watched me look at the photos, but she grinned as I moved closer, checking out the expressions on the models’ faces.

  Fear on some.

  Pure ecstasy on others.

  She hadn’t lied about anything yet, as far as I could tell. She actually was a photographer. But would she be able to overpower me in real life the way she had been able to online? I’d never done anything like this for real. I’d never let anyone see me. The real me. The one that hides not only under the suits I wear for work, but under my very skin. I wasn’t a fake name in a chatroom right now. I was just Chas. Chas Miller, who has fantasized forever about serving a Dominant Woman, who can only come when thinking about being a sub. That’s who I was. And she saw me.


  After allowing me the time to observe her work, she told me to follow her into the second room. There was nothing in this room but a camera.

  “Strip,” she said, that smile still on her face but a different look altogether in her eyes. I hesitated for a moment. My on-screen persona would have taken off her saucy little knickers in a second. But my onscreen persona was a twenty-two-year-old starlet with curly blonde hair and a chipped front tooth. She didn’t look like me on the outside, and she wasn’t anything like me on the inside.

  “Strip,” Kinde said again, and I heard the chill in her tone that I’d only imagined before.

  Slowly, I took off my clothes—boots, black jeans, black T-shirt, boxers. And then I stood, self-consciously, in the center of the room, staring back at her. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Didn’t know what to do with my eyes. Was I meant to stare at the floor? What would a real sub do?

  While I watched, my lady kicked off her shoes and took off her nylons. She’d been wearing thigh-highs, and with the first, she bound my wrists behind my back. With the second, she blindfolded me, wrapping the stocking around my closed eyelids and tying a knot at the back of my head.

  “Now what am I going to do?” she asked.

  I stammered, unsure.

  “You create exquisite scenarios online,” she said, clearly mocking me. “You describe the colors of your cunt, the gradations from a light pink for your pussy lips to a dark rose inside. You tell me about how your hungry little clit pokes forward, demanding attention, how you imagine someday having it pierced. You describe the way your eye color changes in candlelight, the way your full lips part to suckle from my breasts. And now you can’t say a fucking word?”

  My cock was hard, straining toward her. My nipples were erect. My eyes, beneath the nylon makeshift blindfold, were squeezed shut. I took a deep breath and thought I could smell the fragrance of her pussy from where I stood.