The Companion Pt. 03

I felt out of sorts wondering if I should start preparing us dinner as lunch had come and Saturday night couldn't arrive any faster. Mistress Sylvia went to nap and after doing the kitchen I dressed and did yard work. It wouldn't be long I thought before I'd be raking leaves. Mistress was right; the days were getting cooler. I enjoyed yard work and gardening, but liked the break winter offered each year.

I finished up and went to shower, but not before asking Mistress Sylvia if she needed anything. She was writing out checks as she had long been our bill payer. It was common knowledge among our friends and family she controlled the purse strings and I received an allowance. She was I admitted much better at budgeting than I.

She answered, "A glass of hot tea."

I put the water on to boil, but felt this desire to do more.

"A foot rub, Mistress Sylvia?"

"Maybe later, Frances. Right now I need to focus. I'm balancing our checkbook so I need quiet."

I didn't answer because there was no need to. I moved into the kitchen and waited for the water to heat up.

She didn't look up, but said, "Why are you still dressed Frances?"

"I'm about to take a shower Mistress."

"Sylvia, Frances. I have a name Mistress Sylvia. I like imagining you walking around the house wearing nothing but your panties. Take off your clothes and put them in the washer. Then get me my tea."

"Yes, Mistress Sylvia."

I returned wearing only my panties.

"Much better, Frances. The water is boiling."

I served her a mug of tea.

"Thank you, Frances. That will be all. After you shower you had better nap. I've made dinner reservations for us at seven. Wear a suit."

I headed to the basement, showered, and fell asleep wearing a fresh set of panties. I woke up, noted the time, and dressed. I came upstairs and waited for her.

Dinner and dancing afterwards were very enjoyable, but it was how our evening ended that was really memorable. She had been the dominant half all evening. She called me Frances, ordered our meals, even made it a point to remind our waiter I was her date, not the other way around. When we were dancing she was the one who told me she wanted to dance to a different song. She's a very good dancer and I've got two left feet. It wasn't long before she was looking at others on the dance floor and seeing who was good and who wasn't.

She spotted a couple near our age, the wife as poor a dancer as me, the husband as good as Sylvia. She walked over to them. She talked to them and pointed to me. A minute later she waved at me to join them. She introduced me as Frances. She said they had spotted her on the dance floor and his wife who didn't enjoy dancing agreed Sylvia and her husband could dance while I kept her company.

They were a nice couple. When he introduced himself as John I immediately wondered if he was the John she had been seeing, His wife's name was Joan. We exchanged pleasantries and Sylvia ordered a round of drinks. It became clear he was not the John because he was not widowed. He did turn out to be a very good dancer and soon Sylvia and John were spending more time dancing than sitting with us.

Joan told me she loved to watch her husband dance. She pointed out how masterful he was on the dance floor. He was one of those big men who was light on his feet. I sensed a sexual undertone in her comments which surprised me coming from someone who didn't seem like a libertine. When a slow song began I thought John might come back and get his wife, but he stayed on the floor with Sylvia. I asked Joan if she wanted to dance, but she declined, telling me she preferred watching. I wondered if she had a leg injury preventing her from dancing. I wondered if she declined because there was no chemistry between us. We ended up sitting and watching as John held my wife very close on the dance floor.

She did comment on how good they looked together. I had to admit she was right and told her they made a nice dance couple. I was having a lot of sexual thoughts in my head sparked by Joan's stream of comments and the liquor and his name being John. His mastery on the dance floor, and the intimate way he held her as they danced to slow songs made me imagine what the two of them would look like in bed. John was a ruggedly handsome older man, tall, broad shouldered, his black hair streaked with grey. I'm sure he was quite the ladies' man when he was young,

When they did take a break Sylvia, Joan, and John conversed while I stayed quiet. Joan and Sylvia got along very well as did John and Sylvia. Joan praised her dancing which Sylvia ate up. It wasn't late, but Sylvia had a lot in store for me. She told me,"Frances, drink up. We need to get going soon."

John said he hoped he could get in a few more dances and Sylvia agreed. Before we parted ways, Joan and Sylvia exchanged phone numbers. She said she would invite Sylvia over. There was an excited look on her face when Sylvia said she would love to come over. John and I shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, but there was no shared connection. I got the same feeling when I said goodbye to Joan; the two of them weren't interested in me, but Sylvia. Sylvia and Joan exchanged kisses on the cheek and hugs, but it was John who fully embraced her, thanked her for making their evening more enjoyable, and kissed her full on the lips. She pursed her lips so it wasn't like she didn't want to be kissed.

My face went red. I was quiet on the drive home while Sylvia chattered away. She was in a very good mood and once we were home she became very sexually aggressive. As she hungrily kissed me she told me she had been wanting to do that all night. We headed to our bedroom and my jealous moment passed. I did wonder if John had primed the pump of the tigress I was now sharing increasingly heated kisses with.

It wasn't long before she and I were naked. Normally she assumed a more submissive role, laying on her back as I knelt or lay between her legs and licked her, but that night she had me on my back and rode my face.

She dismounted and as she snuggled up to me said, Thanks, Frances. You have no idea how badly I needed that. Nothing like a great orgasm to end the night."

She rested her head on my chest and made no move for a few minutes. I thought maybe I wasn't going to cum and she would drift off to sleep, but she didn't.

She said she liked resting her head on my hairless chest, but she also missed toying with my hair, especially on my abdomen. I asked her if she wanted me to grow it back out, but she said for now she wanted me to keep shaving.

I teased her there was no pleasing her.

She laughed and said, "Not true. You pleased me a lot just now."

"I'm glad."

Always observant, she said, "I noticed you got jealous."

"It's no big deal. It passed."

"Good. I was very proud of how you handled it. It will get easier. Maybe next time even exciting."

"What did you think of them?" I asked.

"I like them. They invited me to come over."

She lifted her head up and looked at me, "Maybe one Friday night you can drop me off, then pick me up."

I felt a knot form in my throat as I croaked out, "Maybe."

She changed the conversation, "I've had my turn and now it's yours Frances. This is hard for me to ask so I am going to be direct. I really enjoy doing what I do to you, but would you mind giving yourself an enema before we start. Everything is in the bathroom."

"I've never given myself one."

"Just follow the instructions. While you get ready I'm going to get ready."

I did follow the instructions, but it still took a while before I was cleaned out and felt clean. I noticed it felt strange being in what was now Sylvia's bathroom. I made sure I left the bathroom as clean as It was before I used it. My bowels felt empty and I exited the bathroom looking forward to one of Sylvia's handjobs as she fingered my ass.

She was in bed and under the covers, but she had the covers pulled up and a towel down where she wanted me to lay.

She had lit a couple of candles so the setting was very romantic.

I got in bed. She told me to pull the covers over us as she was cold. We were on our sides. She caressed the side of my face and said, "I love you Frances."

"I love you too Sylvia."

She brought her lips to mine and we started kissing. It was when I pulled her body close to mine I felt something foreign poking my midsection.

I broke from our kiss and said, "What the hell?"

I reached between us as I hadn't grasped what was poking me. I quickly realized It was a fake cock.

"You're not thinking of putting that in me are you?"

She calmly replied, "Yes, I am."

"Sylvia, I'm not gay. Besides it's really big. I just don't know."

"I'm not a man Frances. It will fit. You said you'd let me dominate you."

"But I didn't think it meant this."

I didn't resist when she pushed me on my back and got on top and when she pressed her mouth to mine I opened my mouth and my tongue responded to hers.

I could feel her fake cock laying on my abdomen. My penis was flaccid and getting smaller.

When she ended our kiss she looked me in the eye and asked, "Scared?"

"Yes, it's really big."

"That's not why you're scared, Frances. I think you're scared because deep down you want it. You're afraid you'll like it a lot."

"Then why am I soft."

"I was scared, but I trusted you. Remember how dry I was? You went down on me and got me wet. I gave you my virginity and now I want you to give me yours. All I ask is that you trust me."

"And say yes," I added.

"That too. Hand me the lube."

I spotted it on the nightstand. She sat back on her haunches, the dildo sticking out, looking even bigger.

I handed her the lube and watched as she coated the length of it. The head she applied a generous amount to I thankfully noted.

"Give me your hand," she said.

She squeezed a good amount onto my fingers.

"Get yourself ready."

I reached under my scrotum past my perineum and smeared my anus with lube.

I hadn't put up much of a fight. My legs were open and my feet flat on the bed.

I even told her I was ready.

She took her cock and maneuvered it into position, the head resting against my bottom. She moved it around making sure she was lined up with my rosebud. I brought my knees up making it easier for her.

She chuckled, "Frances, you are such a slut."

She pushed against me slowly, withdrew, then did it again and again. I think she realized she had to be careful as her cock wasn't real.

"It's big," I told her feeling very stretched, "I don't think it will fit."

She ignored me and pushed. I felt my sphincter stretching wondering if it would tear.

Suddenly she was in me. It hurt.

She withdrew but didn't exit my bottom but slid its length back in me.

Not as much discomfort I noted. I thought I can do this as she lay on top of me and we kissed.

During a pause in our kisses as she stroked in and out of me she said, "Frances, I've loved you for a long time. I never thought my love for you could get any stronger, but it has. Is it feeling better?"

I told her it was.

She smiled. I smiled back and told her to fuck me. My penis remained soft, but deep inside of me her cock was hitting a sweet spot which I assumed was my prostate. I moved my bottom wanting to prolong the rubbing sensation of her manhood against my prostate.

She was using her arms to hold her upper body off of me while her hips thrust in and out. She was driving me crazy. It was a completely different sensation than anything I had experienced before, Her fingers had felt good, but her fake cock felt a hundred times better.

My climax began, but it was different than any I had ever experienced because my penis was soft and there were no contractions, no steams of ejaculate, just a constant flow from my penis onto my pubis. She noticed I was cumming before I did. I just wanted her to keep rubbing the same spot inside of me.

She told me, "Look, Frances, you're cumming."

"I am. Don't stop."

She didn't until she was sure my balls were empty.

"Wow, I had no idea."

She looked smug, "See, Frances, I told you you would like it. Thanks for trusting me."

She pulled out of me and I noticed how sore I was. My anus felt swollen as I ran my fingertips against it. She got up and headed to the bathroom returning a few minutes later without her harness.

Instead of telling me it was my turn to clean up she said she was ready to be eaten again. After she orgasmed she told me, "Now you can go clean up."

We got in bed and snuggled. What a night I thought. My climax left me drained, but I wasn't satiated. It was like enjoying a really good meal and having to stop before you were full. My erection returned, poking Sylvia's bottom. She ground herself against it, but said, "I'm tired." She quickly fell asleep, but not before reminding me to make my way to my bed as she needed a restful sleep.

In my bed my erection kept me awake. I even tried to masturbate, but it was pointless as there was nothing left in me to ejaculate. I wondered if it had more to do with my age than with my prostate being completely emptied. How long I thought before I'd be able to climax again.

Sunday I woke up and after bringing the newspaper inside I stripped down to my panties. Sylvia was so pleased when she walked into the kitchen and spotted me in a pair of lavender panties and nothing else that she picked up her phone and took a picture of me.

I made a half hearted protest, but she coaxed me to pose for half a dozen photos.

Over breakfast she shared them with me. She asked me which one I liked best. I asked her why. She said because she wanted to share it with someone. I asked, "John?"

She said, "No."

"Then who?"

"With another mistress."

I thought, "Do they really exist? I thought she was making them up. She's really talking to other women about us?"

I felt somewhat better, but worried if they shared it. Would my photo go viral? She assured me it was safe.

I asked her who these other mistresses were. She changed the subject and asked how I felt that morning. I told her I felt pretty good, but wasn't looking forward to having a bowel movement.

She said, "Poor Frances, it will be easier in the future."

I answered, "Easy for you to say."

We finished our breakfast, but before I could start on the dishes she cleared her throat.

I asked, "What?"

She looked up from the newspaper, "You didn't ask to be excused and a mistress's bitch never answers with what, but with yes, Mistress or pardon me, Mistress or may I Mistress."

Red in the face and feeling a bit angry and thinking I had had enough of this game I found myself sarcastically apologizing for my behavior. She remained quite calm even though she later told me she was seething inside. She remembered advice from one of the women she corresponded with who told her to never discipline in anger as it was much too easy to damage their pets.

I then told her to quit calling me Frances and asked if she really saw me as her bitch.

I was on a roll and she let me continue uninterrupted.

She asked, "Finished?"

I said, "I am Mistress Sylvia."

She smiled at me remembering to properly address her. My rebellion was anything but. Her impression of it was less rebellion and more temper tantrum. She said it had to do with being sexually frustrated. I had been drained of my ejaculate but I hadn't had the emotional release that comes from ejaculating.

I was still shaking.

She said, "You look cute when you're angry Frances. Now you may go do the dishes, but before you do I'd like a refill of my coffee."

I answered, "Yes, Mistress Sylvia," and after I poured her a fresh cup of coffee I asked her if she needed anything else.

She didn't even look up from the newspaper or thank me, but said, "A foot massage after you finish in the kitchen."

Fifteen minutes later I was under the table massaging the feet of my Mistress my erection poking out the top of my panties.

She knew I was hard because she took the toes of her free foot and located my penis.

"Seems Frances is enjoying himself."

Firmly back in my role I answered in the third person, "Frances is enjoying herself."

Was that a Freudian slip I wondered. If I was her bitch I certainly wasn't a male.

She let me continue a few minutes before telling me to stop and get out from under the table.

I stood in front of her my penis still quite hard. She glanced at it before addressing me.

"Frances, before your earlier outburst I was going to allow you to masturbate with my feet like you did last time, but you blew it. I'm going to get up and get my paddle. When I get back I expect you to have those panties off and you face down on the ottoman."

She stood up and walked past me to her bedroom. I could have told her no. I was physically much stronger than her. Instead, I complied and for the first time in my adult life and the first time ever with my wife she administered a paddling of my bottom. It hurt like hell. As she paddled me she told me she wouldn't tolerate my behavior. She also said after she had broken me emotionally to answer 'I am' whenever she asked 'who is my bitch'.

My face tear stained I answered, "I am."

"That's right so if I think of you as my bitch it's okay."

"Yes, Mistress Sylvia."

When she was done she advised me to remember I had brought this on myself.

I told her, "Yes, Mistress Sylvia. May I be excused now?"

"Yes, you may Frances."

I picked up my panties and headed to the basement and got back in bed. Her spanking triggered in me flashbacks to my childhood. My mother never disciplined me, but reported my willful defiance to my dad who beat it out of me. My mother would watch; she would have I thought the most evil grin on her face. Afterwards my dad would make me apologize to my mom. He would insist I hug her. I was now reliving a part of my childhood I wanted to forget.

I fell asleep. When I woke up I showered and feeling better got back in the spirit of things by shaving my body again. I came upstairs wearing my panties and a fluffy bathrobe as the house was cool.

I called out for Sylvia. No answer so I looked in the garage. She was gone. I wondered if she was with John. My penis grew erect even as waves of jealousy washed over me. I went to the list Sylvia had drawn up and started my Sunday chores. I thought about calling or texting her as evening approached, but remembered she had told me when she started hanging with John it would be better if I didn't. She said too many texts and phone calls while they were doing things would make him uncomfortable. I periodically checked my phone for messages or missed calls. Done with the inside chores I had dressed and done the outside ones. I decided it would be best to make dinner figuring she would be upset if she did come home and it wasn't prepared.

I remembered to strip back down to my panties when I came back inside and while I was cooking decided to try on one of her frillier aprons. I had to admit I felt sexy as I bustled about the kitchen. The meal ready I decided to keep our dishes warm and to not eat until Mistress Sylvia showed.

I was watching t.v. and working on the meals for the week when I heard the garage door open. I heard her car pull into the garage. I went to the door leading into the garage and opened it. I could see she was talking to someone as she liked to use the hands free feature.

She turned her head and saw me, but made no rush to finish her call. In fact, she did the opposite taking her time as I stood there waiting. I thought about going back inside because it was cool and to give her privacy, but wondered if it would upset her. I decided to stay put. She ended her phone call some fifteen minutes later.

She exited the car and walked around the back of the car. I noticed she was dressed up. Heels, a blue dress I liked on her, dark hose, the pearl necklace I had given her years ago with the matching earrings.