The Mistress and the Mouse

by JJ Giles

  Cherry clicked back on. “Brian!”

  “Yeah.”

  “Alright,” she whispered. “Talk to me, baby.”

  “She’s a switch. I never knew it but she’s a switch.”

  “No shit. I had a piece of Morgan le Fey while she was here. The most submissive of all switches.”

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “Everything Dad ever told us she was.” Copious tears dripped down her cheeks.

  “Why didn’t she ever tell me that?”

  “I don’t know, baby. Oh God, I don’t know.” It probably never occurred to Morgan that Brian could handle the responsibility. And to think that her father might share his lover with her was one thing. To think that everyone in the family was in love with Morgan was impossible.

  “Cherry, I’m here now.” It was Renee. “And I’ll stay with him until you get here.”

  “Thank you,” Cherry whispered. “I’m leaving now.”

  * * * *

  In total darkness, Morgan was laid upon smooth Egyptian cotton sheets, the bed soft and seemingly ready to swallow her. His weight depressed the bed beside of her. His leg drew up over hers and his mouth gently stroked the flesh of her throat. His massive hand wrapped around her rib cage with insistent warmth.

  Only tonight, he understood what made her vulnerable. That the flawless ice on her finger was an engagement ring was obvious now. That her dominant side so desperately needed a slave. That the guy had lost his mind was equally obvious. But Jerry was equally adept at exploiting weaknesses whether they be in individuals, laws, or corporations.

  His weight shifted and he crawled over her body and quite insistently forced her legs apart. The concept that he had successfully captured her, that she was hopelessly in love with him now solidified in his heart to feel her trembling beneath him. Her name, breathed into her ear, seemed a flame escaped from his chest.

  With shivering anticipation, she felt his penis dally in the river of moisture flowing from between her legs. She spread them further begging him to come into her. The words to express the emotion spilling out of her uncontrolled wouldn’t come, rather she raised her arms over his head, arms still joined at the wrists and pulled him into her with a ferocity he could only succumb to.

  “Morgan,” he breathed. He slid into that flesh swollen, heated to boiling by his careful attention.

  It was long, its girth impossible to comprehend as if a telephone pole had been animated by a crafty wizard. It slid inside of her, forced into the narrow confine to stroke her soul. It wasn’t the mere friction of his movement, it was the tightness of his body growing ever tighter as if his soul swelled up, the energy collecting inside of him impossible to contain. It seemed his soul swelled beyond the boundaries of his body into her only to open her. His arms locked her body to his with impossible strength as he stabbed ever harder, faster and her legs drew up around him to keep him there forever.

  Two equal masses collided with a single explosion. His heart thudded wildly against her chest, but it was an undiluted power spilling out of him that drained her. The few tears forced from her eyes to feel that power streamed now as his lips forced her mouth open to come even deeper.

  “God, I love you, woman,” he gasped.

  Tenderly, he sucked on her soft, malleable lip, feeling her tongue brush over his. He grasped her head and turned it to feel the softness of her cheek, to empty the last of his passion in her ear.

  She felt her legs forced long again and his gathered them up. Quickly, she was rolled and found herself lying on top of him now, a little giggle of dizziness his delight. Only slowly, she raised away from him to keep his dwindling penis within her, yet she curled to lick the fresh sweat from his neck, to taste of the still-throbbing nipples, tangle her tongue in the profusion of hair on his chest.

  Her hands still joined at the wrists, swept down his torso as she slid away from him and nestled between his legs. The scent of his passion was so fresh and barely diluted with her own. The texture thick and heated as she opened her mouth and drank it down.

  Easily, he rolled to his side, her head clutched in his hands to keep her with him. The ravenous suckling of a hungry baby soothed his penis as much as his heart. His flaccid length fit comfortably in her empty mouth and he raised her hands to hold them against his face, to lick the palms, devour a finger and keep her inside of him.

  Only at length, the taste subsided and her tongue slowed. Yet she contained him within her, her lips locked at the base. Her breathing changed to sustain her in sleep.

  He moved only enough to pull the sheet over her to his chest. His fingers gently petted through her hair. It was everything he imagined, more than he hoped for and the notion that he was in love with her deeply embedded now. Hopelessly, in love. As soon as he was divorced, they would be married. He would command her to marry him.

  * * * *

  In the thin light of the night table by his father’s bed, Brian and Renee read the divorce agreement. One point five billion dollars to get rid of his mother out of his father’s life. Another three quarters of his salary from Abernathy Acquisitions, Inc. for the rest of his life.

  As she held tightly to Brian, she commented, “This clause is curious. That if Cheryl approaches either you or Cherry in the next year, she forfeits the settlement.”

  “He really does love us,” Brian sobbed. “Still trying to protect us. Apparently, she didn’t have any reticence to sign it.”

  Capriciously, Renee tossed the papers to the floor. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  “And for that bitch, I gave up Morgan.” Helpless now, he burst into tears again.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Morgan lingered in his passionate embrace, her back to his chest, her tingling breasts in his hungry hands. That she had been invaded, she knew. That she was now his prisoner was a comfort. She no longer had to face the world alone. He had declared his love in every way she could understand. The harshness of his discipline, the expression of the words, the tenderness of his embrace, even the lips against her throat now was everything she needed so desperately.

  “Can you love a poor man?” His breath in her ear was so devastatingly hot.

  Easily, she laughed and turned to face his sparkling eyes. “Poor?”

  “Uh huh.” His lips refused to her tear away from her heated skin. “After today, very poor.”

  “What’s today?”

  “Divorce, My Love. I’m expecting the signed papers today.”

  “How poor?”

  “One and a half billion dollars and my salary for as long as I live.”

  Morgan choked not understanding the magnitude of it. It just sounded like a lot of money. “She demanded all of that?”

  “Hell, no, I offered it to get rid of her.”

  Morgan smiled. “Somehow I don’t think that’s going to leave you poor.” Tenderly, her lips sucked at his ear lobe.

  “I suppose ‘poor’ is a relative term.”

  “Oh, baby, so you have to sell a few yachts, maybe a vacation home or two. If you really want to fuck her, turn in your resignation as soon as the papers are filed.”

  He burst into laughter with the very thought of it. How hilariously true. That would piss her off to think that twenty million dollars per annum she planned on as pocket change wasn’t coming. That definitely would piss her off. But where would he be without his job?

  He held Morgan by her shoulders to hover over him a little. “I’m crazy about you, you know.”

  Her lips ground against each other as her gaze bored into him. “I know. But you’re married, Good Sir.”

  “That’s the only bit of reticence you feel?”

  Her tongue swirled over her lips. The image of her precious Brian flashed through her mind and then evaporated. He was gone from her and now she was gone from him.

  Playfully, she shrugged to his question of her reticence. Yet she stared into him smiling broadly. That they could have a fabulous life together was something she though
t about constantly. “Let’s just see what happens today.”

  Frustrated, he shook her and tossed her aside. His mouth opened on a breast and bit down. His hands grabbed her arms and held them away from her. His hardened penis held just outside, ready to impale her.

  “Say it,” he commanded, his eyes narrowed to mere slashes.

  “You’re cute.”

  “Say it.”

  “You’re adorable.”

  “Say it, woman.” He thrust hard to join with her, rending her once again.

  Her breath escaped to feel the heat in his desire. Her vision filled only with him. “I love you.” The veracity of that declaration was as powerful as the member she suckled between her legs. “God, I love you.” Quickly, she retrieved her arms from his clutch and wrapped around him, the better to hold on while he drove into her with delta force.

  * * * *

  Once again, she was dressed, the torn jeans pinned together, the cream satin halter-top stuffed in her bag. The jacket concealed the flesh of his desire. “You really have to work today?” he asked.

  “You wanna celebrate?”

  “Damn right. And there’s no one I want to spend this day with more than you. Just like the Fourth of July.”

  “You’re ahead of yourself. The Fourth of July was only the declaration of independence. The war of revolution lasted nearly five years and the negotiations of peace another ten.”

  “Fuck.” He squirmed at the thought that this revolution could go much the same way that one had. “What do I have to do to entice you?”

  “Show me to your dungeon.”

  He laughed. “But I might want to take you back there sometime. I want you to be as pleasantly surprised then as you were last night.”

  “You haven’t been completely honest with me.”

  “You mean I haven’t been completely forthcoming. When I told you I was gonna set you on fire, baby, I meant it.”

  She felt that fire still brewing between her legs.

  But with her steady gaze, he relented, grasped her hand and led her to the black door with a silver lever. She passed through the door into the streams of vivid spotlights trained on every piece of the room. The sheer size of it was overwhelming. Her vision traveled over the conveyor belt she had ridden the night before.

  A long finger pointed toward the towering ceiling. “So a kid’s lust for toy trains becomes this?”

  Sheepishly, he smiled and shrugged.

  Hopelessly enamored, she moved into the room. A massive wheel, enough to contain a very tall male caught her attention. Gold plagues stating various punishments, everything from the purple wand, which she knew well, to things like Router Bit and Gut Whip, were things she could only begin to guess. Crosses and bondage racks she recognized, but they weren’t the usual kind for regular people. They were all motorized with hydraulic lifts and electrodes to fit various body parts.

  “Into electricity obviously,” she commented.

  “I was always pretty good at science. Biology, chemistry.”

  She turned and noted a wall partially covered with his daughter’s Playboy spread, matted in black leather, framed in platinum. But it was the ceiling she studied now, I-beams mounted in a rectangular grid with diagonal paths cut across it. What looked like cannon balls were actually huge ball bearings with chains dropped from them and rode in those grooves.

  She reached up and grasped a chain to pull a ball along its prescribed path. The ease with which it flowed was astounding. The weight of a well-built male wouldn’t impede its flow as that body hung from that chain and could be deposited anywhere in the room onto any piece of equipment the Master desired, quite effortlessly.

  “Why, Mr. Abernathy, you are a genius.”

  He only nodded to the compliment. More than anything he wanted to see her bound, gagged, disciplined on every piece in the room. He watched intently as she moved through the avenues and settled on the chair.

  “Pray tell.”

  He moved toward it and nestled into the curve of the very short seat depth, the back supporting his spine. His legs opened wide and rested lazily on softly padded and upholstered divided rests. Without hesitation, he grabbed her, spun her around and forced her bottom to his crotch. A mighty arm wrapped around her torso and grasped a breast covered in the softest silk as his other hand stroked the crescent of her body through denim.

  “Now,” he whispered. “Imagine my dick winding its way through your intestines.” Immediately, it hardened and crawled up the small of her back. Slowly the chair rolled back, dropping her head to his shoulder the better to be captured by his. One hand flattened a breast and the other kneaded her mound with force. “I’m in you and you belong to me. But all of my other submissives have been very good boys and they need to be rewarded. What do you think I should offer them?”

  She nuzzled closer, almost able to feel it. Captured, impaled, her legs spread wide draped over his, her cunt boiling, ready to be used by all of his good boys.

  “How many do you have in your service?” she gasped.

  He burst into laughter, something he was growing very accustomed to with Morgan. Greedily, he hugged at her and then stood up with her still trapped in his embrace. “Just think about it.”

  “I’m thinkin',” She turned to be crushed in his arms.

  His cheek rubbed against hers with the force boiling inside of him. “I love you,” he vowed. Suddenly, he pushed her away to grasp her shoulders and force her attention. His gaze bored into her like acid. “I know who you are, I know what you’ve done. I know what you’re capable of and I love you desperately, Morgan.”

  “Jerry,” she cried. Trapped in his clutch she was held by his gaze. “Oh God.” He did know who she was and what she’d done. And still he professed his love, his protection. She hadn’t frightened him at all.

  When the flood of tears came he merely held to her, cradled in his arms. “I’ll take care of you, Baby.”

  * * * *

  Recovered, she walked to the elevator with him and he again embraced her passionately. “I will see you tonight,” he said. “I want you to be with me now. We will talk about you moving in here with me. You and Kitty both.”

  Her reply was a profusion of passionate kisses. “I uhhh...I’ll go pack. I never thought it would be possible to love anyone other than...” She hesitated. Brian’s name beyond her desire now. “I do love you.”

  Another desperate hug was the reply.

  And then she turned into the elevator. A little wave before the doors closed left him able to think of nothing but her.

  * * * *

  “I gotta see Dad,” Brian announced to Renee and Cherry.

  Cherry nodded. “I’m taking you, though. I don’t want you to be alone.”

  He acquiesced. And then he hugged at Renee. “I appreciate you coming last night.”

  “I’ll be around,” she insisted. “Jerry’s going to adopt me, you know.”

  Brian smiled a little. He knew that wasn’t going to happen but Renee’s enthusiasm to make it happen warmed his soul. “I hope so,” he said as he kissed her. “I’ll see you soon.”

  * * * *

  As they stood in the main lobby of the Abernathy Tower, Cherry hugged tenderly at Brian. “You go on up. I’ll be there in a little while.” With a soft kiss she conveyed that she understood how hard this was for him. He disappeared into the elevator while she stayed in the lobby. She flopped into a chair positively wrought over this.

  What the hell had Brian been thinking to give Dad Morgan’s number and then walk out on her! Her father’s incessant litanies about emotional maturity were starting to make sense finally. If the smallest of emotional flare-ups could cause irreversible damage what might the serious ones do?

  And now Brian was going upstairs to tell him they were both in love with the same woman!

  Just then Bryant Abernathy walked through the door, his face as reddened as if he’d been staked in the desert sun for a day.

  “Jesus, Cherry, wh
at are you doing here, honey? You’ve heard, haven’t you?”

  Internally, Cherry began to shiver. “Heard what?”

  * * * *

  “Mr. Abernathy, your son is waiting to see you.”

  Quickly, Jerry returned the velvet-covered box to the drawer and closed it. Oh, this was gonna be a good day, Jerry was sure of it. Brian come to see him at work.

  “Send him in.”

  Jerry got up and rushed toward the door as it opened to reveal his son. His son looked old, unshaven and dull. Had been drinking too much, partying too much and he looked exactly like a middle-aged drug addict in the throes of desperation.

  To see his son so dwindled, Jerry gasped, “Brian, Brian, what’s the matter?”

  “Hi.”

  Brian’s eyes were swelled. Closer Jerry peered into them and saw that they were blood shot. Brian had been crying.

  “Brian, Jesus God! Honey, what’s the matter?”

  “Dad, I need you.” Broken inside, he began to sob again.

  Quickly, Jerry gathered him and hugged at him. Gently, he guided Brian to the sofa and set him down on it. He went for water, a towel, a wet washcloth and quickly returned.

  “Brian.” He held the warm washcloth to Brian’s face and pulled his son against his shoulder. What the hell could be the matter? he wondered, but then he knew. Brian had been returned to the Mansion for nearly five months now. It only took five months for his mother to turn him into the blathering idiot Jerry once was.

  Gently, he rocked his precious son in his arms. Brian took the washcloth and blew his nose into it. Took the water and drank it down.

  “Brian, honey, please,” Jerry whispered. “Tell me everything.”

  “This is bad, Dad. This is very, very bad.” Brian’s voice held no emotion at all.

  “Okay, you tell me and we’ll take care of it together.”

  Brian winced. The thought that they were both in love with the same woman would have caused him to vomit again if he had eaten anything in the last two days. Rather he reached behind for the divorce papers tucked into the waistband of his jeans.