A Mistress, Her Little One, , DavidA Mistress, Her Little One, , David

Brunette

Northwest Flight 119 from Chicago touched down on schedule in Minneapolis at 9:00 PM local time.

I patiently waited while the Boeing 757 flight crew disembarked their passengers. As usual I was seated at the rear of the plane and could do nothing but sit and wait for the crowd to thin and disperse. My Mistress, Mistress Angelique was waiting for me. I had promised to return to her and that promise was now just moments away from fulfillment. How gorgeous she was. Tall, slender, a white Goddess of impeccable character with steel blue eyes that had ferreted out and compelled me to confess to her my secrets and obsessions. Secrets and obsessions, hidden, held close, and guarded most fervently for over 40 years, poured forth in an instant with relief and joy to this woman of such mesmerizing power and infinite grace.

My confession seemed so distant now, but, had taken place but a short month earlier. My initial trip to Minneapolis had been to meet Angelique Prescott. What had begun as an intense Internet romance taking the logical next step as she had extended an invite to her place in the Twin Cities. I eagerly accepted and found her to be a fascinating, most generous and altogether quality person. The finest I had ever met. Our initial coupling was everything I had imagined it to be. Her honey pot was exquisite. A lush thicket of brown hair hid a hard, perfectly round orb that once discovered and activated brought forth a boundless joy beyond anything I’d ever been witness to before. I blatantly loitered the apex of her spread legs until she implored me with “time out.” That first night, I spent with my mouth nearly fused to her holy grail as I slept in total peace, completely sated.

Row 39 passengers could finally enter the aisle and leave the aircraft. I secured my black leather valise from its above stowage and made my way up and out of the stuffy aircraft. The fresh air at once hit and cleared my head. Mistress was close, ever so near. I stopped in the men’s restroom, entered an empty stall and made good my preparations. Preparations mandated by Mistress Angelique. I was to change from my Fruits into my Victoria Secrets before I ventured down to baggage claim and into the presence of my Mistress. If I showed up there in the Fruits I would be left where I was found. I took off my jeans, followed by my underwear, and slipped the pure white satin panties up my legs and over my white bottom. They felt so wonderful. My little pee-pee at once because encouraged, but, I concentrated on other sundry notions and the pulsing ceased immediately. “Now is not the time, Little One.” Mistress had admonished me when I would become inappropriately yalova escort excited in the past. “Oh, Mistress, your Little One is so very near.” I said to myself as I left the men’s room and started up the busy concourse.

I saw her at once from afar as I turned the corner. She’d promised to wear a red raincoat as the threat of weather in “The Cities” (her reference to Minneapolis/St. Paul) had been found to be an accurate prediction. Her blond hair was perfectly coiffed. Her back was to me and as I made my way toward her I immediately became less James McAlister (Chicago area businessman) and at once more her “Little One.” The immediate transformation in the middle of an International Airport was astounding. My gait slowed, my shoulders slumped and rounded and a slight trembling of my legs commenced. My pee-pee twitched and I became aware for just the second time that I was wearing white satin panties.

“Angelique.” I whispered as I came up behind her. She turned and my breath caught in my throat. She was ever more beautiful than I had remembered her.

“Carl! Welcome to The Cities, my little one.” She was vanquishing me before I had a chance to catch my bearings. And frankly, I was thrilled beyond description. She hugged me tightly and whispered into my ear so very softly: “Are you still my little boy?”

I whispered back ever so quietly: “Yes, Mistress, I am still your little boy. Oh, and Mistress, I am wearing the panties you ordered me to wear.”

“That’s a good little boy, Rusty.” She had christened me “Rusty” a month earlier, on my initial trip into Minneapolis. Where she got such a moniker was beyond me, but, I put up no objection. Ipso facto, “Rusty” I was to be.

“Well, youngster, I suppose we should gather your luggage and head for the parking garage. Your Mistress has plans for you this evening, little one, and the sooner we get started the sooner those plans will be put into action.” Her voice had now suddenly turned quite regular and “Your Mistress” was not lost on the large crowd that had massed by the luggage carousel. I could see in my peripheral vision that several heads had turned in unison at the trigger words and I immediately felt my face turn crimson. But, I knew better and kept my silence, and strictly so. Mistress Angelique was not one to put on airs in public. She was who she was and I was her ward, her little boy, her Rusty. She was so beautiful standing there I nearly swooned from desire coupled with intense humiliation.

“Come Rusty, show Mistress your luggage.” She turned her interest to the now active carousel and I stood silently next to her, my attention thankfully zonguldak escort occupied in search of my Palm Springs matched luggage.

Presently the two bags swung into view and I retrieved them at once.

“Follow me, Rusty’.” We were at once off and up the concourse toward the parking garages: Me, wheeling the two heavy bags behind us and Mistress Angelique leading the way as if she owned the Airport. We finally reached the bank of elevators and waited in silence for one to come down. The wait was short and thankfully we had a car all to ourselves. I was grateful for the time alone with my Mistress, the first I’d had in over a month.

“Come here, Rusty, and stand next to Mistress.” I did as I was told and stood next to her with my head bowed. That was a rule and I dare not disobey a rule. Mistress Angelique was a stickler for rules. And my bottom had learned the very painful lesson that to cross Mistress Angelique was to invite mayhem the degree to which was without definition.

She took her index finger and ever so gently placed it under my chin and slowly raised my face until it was even with hers.

“Mistress wants your ass this evening, Rusty. Do I take it, or, will Rusty give it up to Mistress?”

I watched Mistress’ blue eyes light up with fire & ice as she put the question to me.

“Mistress, I will give it up. You are my Mistress, Mistress Angelique. There is only Mistress Angelique. There is nothing else.”

“You better believe you’ll give it up, Rusty. And what you don’t give up, Mistress is going to take. Do you understand Mistress, little one?”

“I think so, Mistress.” I knew the moment I said it, I’d regret it, but, it had been a month since I’d been under the strict tutelage of Mistress Angelique and I had backslid. Mistress did not brook wishy washy nonsense from me, or anyone else for that matter.

“I think so?” Mistress duplicated & mocked my words.

“I’m sorry Mistress.”

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be, little one. Not by a long shot.”

Oh, no, I’d done it now. I so wanted to have Mistress take me into her bed this night and screw me silly. But, now, that event was many hours away, if at all, and punishment, harsh and protracted would have to be meted out before I could even possibly count on having Mistress do my bottom tonight.

“Please, Mistress, give me another chance.”

“Shut up, little one, you’re only making it worse.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The elevator car immediately fell into an uncomfortable silence as it arrived at the top level. The doors opened and I followed my Mistress out into the parking zonguldak escort garage. This top level was empty save her Mini Van parked toward the corner. She walked briskly to it, and I followed as close as I was permitted.

She popped the back door lock with her remote as she got into the driver’s side. I quickly loaded the baggage and got in next to her. The silence was expected now. And frankly I was grateful to consider my recklessness without diversion. I knew better and yet I had made a monumental mistake. Ugh.

“Let Mistress see.”

Right away I knew what Mistress Angelique was referring to and without hesitation I unbuckled my jeans, took them down and then off over my loafers.

“Yes, little one, you’ve obeyed Mistress and your choice of panties is superb.”

“Let Mistress see.”

Again, I knew what she wanted. And I quickly took the panties down and then off. My pee-pee had been rendered into shock at the thought of the punishment to come and was now soft and limp.

“Relax, Rusty, Mistress will be merciful. Not benevolent, but, most certainly merciful. She wouldn’t make her little boy’s first night in Minneapolis that miserable for all the tea in China. Now, c’mon, Rusty, buck up and let’s see you show Mistress what a naughty little boy you can be.”

Mistress unbuckled her jeans, took them down and off over her New Balance running shoes. As per usual Mistress was not wearing panties. She quickly swiveled in her driver seat and faced me, putting her running shoes on each arm rest; her knees had no choice but to spread wide.

“Bon appetite, Rusty.” Mistress mused.

I dove into her grotto with a gusto that a month of deprivation can instill. The thicket was still lush, the orb still round and so very firm and I devoured it with abandon. I slathered from the top of her pubic mound to the very end of her slick quim. Her brownie puckered below, but, I knew that was off limits to me, unless prior permission was received. No such permission had been granted, so I started back up the way I had come, licking and tasting my Mistress and all her wonderful aromas.

“Yes, Rusty, you haven’t forgotten how to pleasure your Mistress. My goodness, little one, I see your little pee-pee is starting to recover some of its tumescence. Good for you, little one. But, you know the rule, Rusty, Rusty doesn’t orgasm until Mistress Angelique says so. Right, Rusty?”

“Yes, Mistress.” I answered immediately and then went back to my feeding frenzy.

Mistress spread wider and scooted down in the seat a little more as her rosebud came into plain view. “Was she tempting me?” “Was she trying to get me to slip up yet again?” “I won’t make another mistake. Uh, uh.”

“My, oh, my, Rusty is so disciplined. Mistress is proud of her little boy. Very good, Rusty. You may now lick every where, Rusty. Go for it, little one. All of it.”

(To be continued)

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