2 Minds Meet

2 Minds Meet
Uther_Pendragon
'Jonathan'? Weren't all male tops addressed as 'Master'?
erotic stories, free, BDSM, sex, xxx, 2 Minds Meet, Uther_Pendragon

"Miss Brandon," her secretary's voice came through the speaker on Friday, "you have a call from a Jonathan Quirk." She picked up the phone.
"Melissa," he began, "would you have dinner with me tonight?"
"I'd be honored."
"Five o'clock at your office?"
"That would be fine."
He met her at the office and walked her to his car. "Are you wearing the stockings I gave you?" he asked when he was in traffic.
"No."
"Have them at home?"
"Yes."
"We'll go there first then." He parked in a guest slot under her building and waited while she signed for it with the evening guard. When he was in her condo, he said, "No panties. Diaphragm. Change clothes if you want, but something with a skirt."
"Where are you taking me?" she asked. There was no sense pretending she had a choice.
"My place."
"To eat?"
"Sure. I won't starve you."
His place was a one-bedroom apartment in a rental building. It hardly competed with hers, not even having a doorman, but it was no slum. The meal was Korean take-out. "Now," he said when they had finished, "I've been thinking. I'm used to contracts. This isn't enforceable, and I won't pretend that it is. But I think we need to have our relationship down in writing."
"Relationship?" she said. "Who says we have a relationship?"
"Melissa! You act coy at the weirdest times. Would you really let a man tell you to put in your diaphragm if he didn't have a relationship with you? Now, let's adjourn to the living room."
She sat on the couch. He handed her a document and held another copy. He sat backwards on a straight chair facing her while she read it:
Contract Between Jonathan Quirk and Melissa Brandon
Melissa Brandon (Melissa) needs and desires direction with respect to her private life. Jonathan Quirk (Jonathan) undertakes to provide that direction. This contract will not apply to the decisions she makes for her employers, but will govern all her other decisions.
In return for that direction, Melissa agrees and promises that:
1) Melissa will obey Jonathan in all things.
2) Melissa will keep herself sexually available to Jonathan and sexually unavailable to all other persons.
3) Melissa will speak respectfully to Jonathan at all times. Melissa will address Jonathan as "Jonathan" except that, (A) She will address him as "Mr. Quirk" when she is aware of being overheard by someone of whom she reasonably believes Jonathan is unaware. (B) She will address him as "sir" when Jonathan has given her specific permission to do so.
4) Melissa will tell Jonathan the truth at all times.
5) Melissa will provide Jonathan with a key to her condominium and to any outer doors for which she has the key.
6) Melissa will store a diaphragm to her prescription and any necessary ancillaries in Jonathan's apartment.
7) Melissa will wear stockings and a garter belt whenever she knows she will be on a date with Jonathan unless he has told her that other garb is appropriate for the date. Melissa will not wear pantyhose or panties unless the situation before the date requires that she do so. If Melissa wears either or both of these when going on the date, she will change at the earliest convenient moment. She will keep at least one garter belt and pair of stockings in her office in case Jonathan invites her out when she is there.
Jonathan will decide everything else having to do with Melissa's relationship with him. Jonathan may suspend or revoke any of these rules when he chooses to do so.
There was a space for both their signatures.
He handed her a pen. She signed the copy she was holding and, when he'd handed her the other, that one. She noticed that he'd already signed the copy he he'd been holding. Last, he signed the copy she'd read first.
"Now," he asked, "do you have any questions?"
"'Jonathan?' not 'Master'?" That was strange. Every dominant man was called 'Master.'
"'Master' is a bit much. Play acting. Besides, somebody in earshot won't get suspicions about your calling me 'Jonathan.' Anyway, it's my choice; and you've signed a contract saying that my choice goes." Yes, she had.
"Will we meet here?" Let's hope. Her condo was getting a little close to her business life, and her office was worse. She tried to keep a distance between her work life and her private life.
"Among other places. The people at your office know I'm an acquaintance of yours. I've picked you up there for dates. How good an acquaintance, they don't know -- and it's none of their damn business. You'll need some other things here -- not much, and some of them I'll give you. A change or two of clothing, toothbrush and hairbrush, that sort of thing. I've cleared off one shelf of the medicine cabinet for you." He got up and joined her on the couch.
His first kisses were gentle. When his tongue explored her mouth, his hand explored her naked vulva. She was highly excited when he suddenly stood up. "This will ruin that skirt," he said. "Here." She took his outstretched hand, and he helped her up. He led her into the bedroom. His bed was stripped to a bottom sheet. Something less than a foot on the right side of the bedroom closet was empty.
"The right side of the closet is for your things," he said. "You see that there is space on the shelf above it. Leave on your shoes." And, with him watching her, she stripped and hung up her clothes. She put the bra on the shelf. "Put the earrings on that shelf, too." She put them and her watch where she'd been told to.
"Now," he said, "my clothes. You can put them on that chair." She removed his shirt. "Shoes first," he said when she reached for his belt. She knelt, conscious that she was wearing only shoes, stockings, and garter belt. She untied his laces, helped him off with shoes and socks, and stood again. When she unbelted and unzipped his trousers, he stepped out of them. His erection was tenting his boxers. She could see it quiver as she lowered the shorts. He took off his own wristwatch.
He took her shoes when she lay down on the bed. While his tongue invaded her mouth, he stroked the insides of her nylon-clad thighs. As his mouth strayed lower, his hand strayed higher. She had her first orgasm while he was sucking a nipple and stroking her clitoris. The only respite he gave her was to switch nipples.
His finger brought her second orgasm by rubbing the top of her vagina. She was nearing her third when he climbed between her legs. His stroke drove him all the way into her. Pressed deep inside, he moved back and forth against her outside vulva while shifting his hands to reach her breasts. He teased her nipples while stroking in and out.
On her third orgasm, he pinched both nipples. She rocketed higher while he continued to stroke within her spasms. He shifted his hands back on the bed and raised his upper body. He finished like that, driving in and out of her while staring into her eyes.
After she saw his grimace and felt him throb inside her, he bent one arm and rolled off her. Minutes later, he turned off the overhead light from beside the bed. Then he pulled a sheet and light blanket up to cover them both.
- = -
When his alarm woke them, he climbed out of bed without a word to her. She heard the toilet flush and then the shower run. "Time to get up," he said when he returned. "You don't need those," he said when she headed towards the closet. "You do need a shower."
When she got back from her bathroom time, he was dressed in slacks and shirt. He was still barefoot, though. "Here," he said and handed her an apron. "I'll get you the bacon and the eggs. Mine are two, over easy."
"I don't cook." She did put on the apron, though. It covered her very thoroughly in front but left a gap in back.
"That's all right. Anybody can cook bacon and eggs. Bacon first." Actually, she needed less instruction than he gave her. She was conscious during the entire process that he could see her vulva through the gap in the apron. "Hang the apron on the hook over there by the door," he said when she brought the two plates over. They ate across from each other at his kitchen table, she stark naked.
After breakfast, he had her bend over with her back parallel to the floor and her hands on a chair while he ran a carpenter's tape measure from the floor to her navel. He didn't explain why. "Bring your handbag here," he said. Then, when she had, "Which of these credit cards has the largest outstanding balance?"
"Probably this one." She took out her Visa Gold.
"Give it to me. I want this card paid off by the end of this year. And don't run up any higher balances on your other cards than you already have." She was an accountant, for Christ's sake. She knew how much credit was reasonable to have. But he wasn't asking; he was telling.
Okay, he was in control. And she'd had more orgasms last night than she had most weeks, and more intense ones than she had some years. Both of these were enjoyable, but she needed more. When was he going to punish her? "Why should I obey you?"
"Melissa! You think I'm going to spank you if you sass me. Why should I? You want to be spanked, but I don't want to be sassed. Now, get dressed. We need to get you some tennis shoes."
She almost refused. But he was stubborn enough to keep his word. And having him in control was exciting. "Tennis shoes, Master?"
He cleared his throat. "Jonathan, I mean," she said. "I don't wear tennis shoes."
"You will here. Put on the stockings, they won't let you try on shoes without them." They dressed in the bedroom, Jonathan putting on socks and shoes.
He selected shoes for her with remarkably high ankles, and then another set of shoestrings and a pair of slippers. The clerk's sitting on the low stool to measure her foot reminded her that she wasn't wearing any panties. He probably couldn't see anything -- she didn't let shoe salesmen see her panties, after all. Still, the possibility excited her. Jonathan paid for the purchases and for lunch afterwards. He seemed in no hurry to return her to her condo; he took her to an art museum after lunch.
>From there, he drove them to his apartment. "Why don't you strip while I clean off the table?" he asked. There were plenty of reasons not to strip, but it really hadn't been a question. "Take off the stockings as well."
"Okay," he said, when she came out naked, "now see if you can put on these shoes without stockings on your feet." She managed to get the tennis shoes on, although it was harder than it had been when she was wearing nylons. For some reason, the laces skipped one set of holes, and the extra laces were threaded through those holes.
"Now," his tone signaled a major change of subject. "You saw the bit in our contract about my suspending the rules?"
"Yes. Yes, Jonathan. I did."
"Well, I suspend the rule requiring you to tell the truth. And you may address me as 'sir.' Have you been a good girl?"
"No, Mas... no, sir. I haven't."
"Come over to the table." He tied the extra shoelace in her left shoe to one table leg. "Spread your legs more. You need to have your right foot next to the other table leg." He tied that foot. "Bend over and lean on the table." When she did, he spanked her.
He took a break from the spanking to play with her nipples. "Stay bent over," he said when she started to rise. He went back to spanking her. He had a hard hand, but the blows didn't compare to the pain from Master's whip. He moved over to stand on her right and began stroking the insides of her thighs. His next blow was a surprise.
He'd spank her, stroke her vulva, spank her again. The process started to excite her. When her orgasm began, he hit her harder than he had before. The spanking during her orgasm *hurt* but that only added to her ecstasy.
"Stay there," he said when she finally collapsed. He went into his bedroom briefly. He didn't seem to be wearing anything when he came out, though she could only see glimpses between her legs. He stroked her sore butt cheeks. "Poor ass," he said, "poor innocent ass which has to suffer for Melissa's faults." She felt fire across he butt at the same time she heard a 'crack.' She looked between her legs to see a belt swinging towards her. The second stroke hurt worse than the first.
"Ow!" she said and struggled to straighten up.
"Stay where you are." He pressed down with one hand as the other swung the belt again. She sank down with her head resting on her hands and sobbed. "Poor ass," he said again. He stroked his fingers across it. The fingers touched the lips of her vulva before the belt struck her again. It wasn't only her butt which suffered. The belt curled around her left thigh to strike hardest against the tender inside. He patted her butt and rubbed her vulva while stepping around to her other side. Then the belt punished the inside of her right thigh.
The blows alternated with caresses while her tension soared. She was almost there, needing only two or three more brushes across her clitoris to put her over -- a few strokes with the belt would even have accomplished it -- when he stopped. She was raising her head when she felt something cold at the mouth of her vulva.
Then he pressed in. She could feel him enter her and fill her. Then one of his hands went to her left breast as the other touched her vulva. "Oh yes," she said. As she went over, he began to stroke in and out. He grabbed both thighs ad pulled her back against him as his orgasm followed hers.
He rested against her for a moment, pressing her down until her breasts were crushed against the table top. After he straightened and withdrew, he walked over to the garbage pail and threw the condom in.
He went into the bathroom and back to the bedroom. He was dressed again before he untied her from the table legs. "Where is your car?" he asked.
"At a parking garage near my work." He'd said to call him 'sir.' "At a parking garage near my work, sir."
"Can you get in on a Saturday afternoon?"
"I'm sure."
"Shower and dress. I'll drive you there."
And so he did. Not hearing when she would see him again was a worse discomfort than sitting on her bruises.