“Two Masters”
The second thing you noticed was that no one seemed to be noticing her. The first thing…
How many things did I notice? you think to yourself.
Her eyes, bright green spots beneath a fold of dark hair. Fuck.
Her slim torso, revealed by a tight, long sleeved lack shirt. Fuck me.
Her legs, shapely and long, ending in a low cut brown boot. Her bright, full lips.
Jesus fuck.
By the time you finally started hearing the ambient noise of the dimly lit bar again, she had sat down kitty corner from you at the bar, book in hand. Every time she brushed her hair away from her eyes, she appeared to look around, coyly taking in the other patrons.
Did she notice me? All I want is for her to notice me.
You look down at your phone and see that I’m calling you.
“Hello?” you say, somewhat hoarse.
“Hello. Are you being a good girl?”
“Yes,” you whisper.
“Why are you so quiet?”
“I…” you hesitate, wanting to please me but also wanting to anger me so you can be punished. “I saw someone.”
“Go on.”
“She’s here at the bar. She’s so gorgeous.”
“Interesting,” I say. “Why are you such a slut?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I reject your apology. My good little slutty girl.” You squirm a little in your chair, getting more turned on.
“Yes, master. I am a slut.”
“Yes you are,” I intone, audibly smiling.
“Thank you,” you say, relieved and more turned on.
“What does this woman look like?” You relate her appearance to me.
“And what do you want from her?” I ask.
“I just…” you stumble and collect your thoughts. “I just want her to want me. I want her to own me.”
“I’d like that. Go sit down next to her and buy her a drink.”
“But I can’t do that. It’ll be weird.”
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “First of all, you’re going to be punished for rejecting an order.” You moan a little. “Shut up,” I say before continuing, “and secondly, you’re going to go talk to her because I said so. You do what I say, correct?”
“Yes master.”
“And you’re going to be charming.”
“Yes master.”
“Why are you going to be charming?”
“I’m going to be charming because you told me to be charming.”
“Good girl,” I say, satisfied. “Now, tell me: Do you feel like a slut right now?”
“Yes master, I do.”
“I think you could be sluttier. Go to the bathroom and masturbate.”
You drop a card with the bartender and immediately rush to the bathroom. You pull your panties down while leaving your knee length skirt in place and realize that you’re hopelessly wet. The sound of passing footsteps and quiet laughter outside the one person bathroom are only interrupted by my voice over the phone.
“You have to touch yourself in the bar bathroom because you’re a whore, aren’t you.”
“Yes,” you say, hair matted on your forehead. “I am. I can’t help it.”
You cum hard and sit on the closed toilet, trembling. You wash your hands and ball up your panties in your pocket. You’re ashamed but still horny.
“You might get some semen tonight, Sasha,” I say. You want to cum all over again.
You exit the bathroom and notice that she’s still there. You feel another rush, almost confusedly turned on now.
“Is she still there?” I say into your ear through the phone.
“Yes,” you say.
“Do you still want her to own you?”
“Yes. I want that so bad.”
“Good. Go talk to her right now.”
You walk over towards her chair, her back to you, and feel so ashamed. Freshly masturbated several yards from her, your wet panties in your pocket. How am I going to talk to her like this?
“Remember to be a charming little slut,” I say before I hang up.
“Yes master,” you whisper to no one.
“Hi,” you say, sidling up to her. “I saw you with the book and I just had to know what you’re reading.” You smile nice and big, hoping she doesn’t reject you.
“Oh, well, yeah,” she says, flipping her book over. “Not many people read in bars these days, right?”
“No, I don’t think so. But I like it.” You smile again, hoping she likes it. I would do anything for you…
“I’m reading The Trial by Franz Kafka,” she says. “Seems fitting for what’s going on in the world. Lots of existential guilt and dread, shame from nowhere.” She looks at you and her eyes melt you. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“No,” you say quickly. “I love it. I…” you look at her, trying to read her face. “I know the feeling.”
“Do you?” she says, raising an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Tell me more.”
“You know, sometimes you do things that need to be…addressed. Like, face consequences.” She turns to face you completely, and, after noticing her chest for the first time, you realize that she’s just staring at you.
“I think I’m following,” she says slowly, “but I’m not sure. Is there someone who makes sure you face consequences for your actions.”
“Yes,” you say, looking down. “A few.”
“Did someone tell you to be here right now?”
“Yes,” you say, head still down.
“Where is this person?”
“He’s not here.” Her questioning of you, and your orderly responses, are getting you wet all over again.
“I see. Did he tell you to come talk to me?” You look up slightly and see her staring intently at you, her lip curled slightly. Does she like me?
“Yes.”
“Does he have any further orders for you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Why did he tell you to come talk to me?”
“Because…” you stall and shift your weight to your other foot.
“Wait,” she says. “Let me talk to him.” You dial me and hand over the phone. “Hello. I’m talking to your friend,” she says to me, phone at her ear and her bright, piercing green eyes gazing at you. You hold her gaze and listen to her talking, mouth slightly open. You squeeze your legs together so your pussy doesn’t start leaking down your legs – this beautiful woman talking to your master right in front of you, talking about you…
She listens for a few seconds, then speaks to me through the phone. “No, she can’t hear you. So, you’re in charge of her?” She listens, then responds. “Okay. And what is she free to do right now?” You stare intently at her as she listens to my reply. “Oh really.” She smiles a deviant smile and looks you up and down with quick, hungry glances. Her smile narrows and her lips come together as she speaks in slow syllables, boring a hole through you with her focused, intrigued glare. “Two masters, huh.”
At this moment, you cum a little. She notices and resumes speaking.
“Yes. I like that. Text me the rules, such as they exist. I want to know how much I can humiliate this one,” she says, her stare uninterrupted. She hangs up and passes the phone back to you.
“First off, text him my number.” You do. “Second, go touch your pussy in the bathroom again.”
You stand pat, unable to move your quivering legs.
“Oh” she says, discerning your predicament. “You’re close.”
You nod feverishly, otherwise frozen, your wanting eyes locked on her.
“Well,” she says, bringing your closer with her arm and then wrapping one leg around you. “Let’s just finish you off then.”
“But here…” you begin to protest, interrupted by the touch of her finger over your skirt.
“I was told that you’re not allowed to talk back. Is that true?”
You nod, getting more and more flushed as her hand deftly maneuvers around your clit.
“Then don’t,” she says, reaching over the grab an ice cube from her drink. “Now, are you embarrassed that I’m going to make you cum in this bar?”
“Yes,” you say, squirming and biting your lip.
“He said you were a slut.” She sets he drink down and squeezes you closer with your leg. “Do you feel like a slut right now?”
You inhale and nod yes as she slides the ice cube up your skirt and around your flushed labia.
“You’re going to cum for me now,” she says in a low voice. You look at her eyes, her breasts, then down at her hand. Then you cum.
She removes her hand from you and releases you. “Go get some napkins and wipe off the floor. You’re dripping.”
You look down, newly ashamed, and stumble over to the bar’s napkin holder. You ask the bartender for your bill, mumble something about spilling your drink, plop down a bill, and return to where she’s sitting.
“Are you sorry for the mess you’ve made?” she asks.
“Yes,” you reply, and bend down to wipe the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“Call me master,” she says, watching you wipe up your own juices.
“Yes master.”
***
Later that evening, you’re on a bed, all four limbs tied down, completely naked. You hear voices in the other room – your two masters are discussing something.
We enter the room, both fully clothed. We bend down and look at each other, then at you. She takes the used panties out of your mouth and both of us lean down.
“Open your mouth,” I say to you. You do so.
Your two masters lock eyes. We say to each other, in unison: “Count of three.”
You watch as we wait a few brief moments, then we both, simultaneously, spit in your mouth. Two long strands of your masters’ spit dripping down into your open lips.
“Isn’t she supposed to say something now?” your woman master says.
“She’s tasting us first,” I say.
You swallow our saliva, catch your breath, and finally speak.
“Thank you.”
***
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Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/shha57/two_masters_ffm