Wednesday, March 10, 2010

"Coming and Going" Part 2

"Coming & Going" (Pt. 2)

by Julius
Copyright 2003xx

Cilla was in heaven as she fondled James' cock. It was new and strange to her, so naturally different. She couldn't believe the surge of her arousal at the moment she'd first touched it.

Loving her own Master's cock was a part of her duties. Sometimes she enjoyed it, sometimes she even needed it. Yes, needed to do it. But all too often it was because he needed it and wanted it, with no thought of asking about her needs. But with James it was different. This was her choice. There was something fresh and sweet about having a choice.

James groaned, Cilla stilled her hand and pressed his hardness against her cheek. She needed to concentrate! The wonderful springy curls, magic! After the immaculate hairlessness of her Master this was a new delight. She pressed her face into his groin. Feeling the hair on her eyelids, her lips, tickling the edges of her nostrils.

She sat up and squeezed some more oil into her palm and reached for the beautiful hardness.

She could keep her Master on the edge for an hour, sometimes longer. Keeping him balanced, close to release, taking him close, close, closer. Knowing just when to slow and when to stop. She wondered if she could do the same to James guessing that he needed this so very badly. Cilla doubted she could control him the way she controlled her Master - not this first time. But she would try.

"Relax James," she said softly, "let me play, let me please you." She slid her hand slowly down to the root of his cock. "Focus on the feeling. One thought, let everything else float away." She gripped him tighter and drew her slick hand up the length of him, he sighed a long sigh.

She cupped his balls gently with her other hand. Loving their weight and warmth. She wondered what it would be like to impale herself on this cock of his. She slapped herself mentally, she must not think like that. Faithfulness was the first rule. But the word 'impale' echoed round in her head. Massaging James was for his comfort, this was the slave's prime function but she knew at the back of her mind that she was enjoying this too much for it to really be right. She was, she knew, a little over the 'faithful' line! But he was a little longer, a little thicker than her Master ... 'a slave can dream can't she?'

He thrust up, driving his cock through her fist, reminding her that she was day-dreaming again. She gripped its head and forced her clenched fingers down the length of him. His hips squirmed on the bed. 'You're loving this aren't you?' she asked him silently. 'So long since you had a woman do this for you.'

The heat was building between her legs. She needed pleasuring too. Her nipples chafed against the side of the bed and she drew back. The signals had flashed down to her crotch, that was more than she needed right now!

James was squirming on the bed making happy noises in his throat. Cilla kept up the slow strokes bringing him nearer and nearer. His cock was oozing steadily now. A droplet glinted like jewel. She licked her lips, wanting to taste him. She was concentrating with a fierceness that made little frown lines appear between her eyes.

He kept saying "Oh!" and "Yes". Words, sounds she understood so well. They meant 'I'm going to come soon!' and 'Stop! or I'll come!' and "Don't stop!" The sweet sounds of barely contained joy. This crazy, sweet conflict would go on as long as her skill could control him.

She watched his whole body, his head, moving from side to side, the tightening of his stomach, the straining tendons in his thighs. Her eyes kept coming back to his beautiful cock. Its glistening head disappearing in and out of the top of her fist. It drew her, her whole body seemed to strain towards it. And that was what made her nearly lose control of him. He tensed, his body went completely still and she eased her hold on him, just steadying his rigid cock with finger and thumb. His body was rigid, he was close, close, close. She blew gently on the head of his cock, cooling it, soothing the quivering nerves. She stared, as motionless as he and waited. His cock twitched just the once and a slow ooze of white boiled out of him and trickled down his shaft into his curls.

The moment was past! 'There must be a name for that,' she thought. It was a beautiful moment for her. Her hand began moving again, slowly oh so slowly, lubricated now with a mix of oil and his come.

"Should we let it happen soon James?" she asked him softly.

"Oh yes," he murmured, "if you don't I think I'll die!"

She smiled and tightened her grip on him and began moving his balls in the cup of her hand, so very, very gently. Now his hips were moving in concert with her hands.

Her own arousal was extreme and in her mind he was thrusting into her pussy not her hand.

This time she just let it happen. Just let her hand stroke him, no thought now of pausing or prolonging. He groaned and said a long soft "Yesss...," Cilla watched in delight as he came. The sudden, beautiful violence of his movements. She held his cock vertical and his juices squirted high and then fell back over her hands and wrists time and again. Over his thighs and belly and into that lovely pubic hair of his. She pressed her face against his cock again and felt his last spasms, like a beautiful heartbeat pulsing against her cheek.

They stayed still and silent for a while as his pulse and breathing slowed. 'What about you?" he asked.

She almost cried that he should ask about her needs. That was a wonderful first. Nobody ever asked slaves if THEY need release!

"I'm fine." she said, almost meaning it. Almost meaning it but acutely aware that her brief costume hadn't coped with her arousal. She climbed, wet-thighed, onto the bed and snuggled against him, stroking his belly with her small, come-slick hand.

Despite the gnawing need between her legs Cilla was happier than she could remember. Perhaps defending her, her mind moved towards sleep and her thoughts drifted back to ninety years hence.

She'd known about the 'doorways' in her office in the basement. Her Master had shown them to her, it was obvious that they worried him. It was several weeks before he confessed that he was too afraid to go near them after seeing his arm disappear into one. Cilla had been off and exploring as soon as his back was turned. She'd chosen to go back but had found seemingly endless dark and dirty basements before trying to go forward. This had produced two 'jumps' before the way was apparently 'turned off'. The next 'forwards' door simply wasn't there and she'd had to come back. Her duties and her Master's antiques business kept her very busy. For the next few weeks she merely glanced at the door from time to time and wondered.

Then James had appeared. His mention of a basement filled with 'stuff' had really piqued her dealer's instincts. His way of speech, his style of dress and that beard. She had instinctively trusted him. Yes, Cilla was glad she'd come visiting.

She awoke to find him watching her. Her body betrayed her before her brain could get control. She wanted him, wanted him badly. All the training and all the conditioning couldn't override this need. She felt tears near and scrambled off the bed, "I don't want to go back!"

He propped himself on an elbow, saying gently, "I don't want you to go back."

When he came down to the kitchen she had a coffee waiting for him. She was sitting at the kitchen table in his bathrobe poring over a thick catalogue. It was open at the lingerie section. She looked up, eyes dancing. "How I'd love to wear this stuff." She made 'this stuff'' sound positively prehistoric.

"Let's take you shopping then," he said mirroring her enthusiasm.

"Wouldn't people stare?" she gestured by pretending to open the robe and reached a hand to touch her hair.

Half an hour later they were walking from his car to the mall. One of his wife's coats had hung in the spare room closet, now it covered Cilla's nakedness. Her hair washed and combed down and to the sides made an almost passable silver page-boy. Her plain silver shoes were no stranger than many being worn around them. Her nakedness under the coat felt wonderful and she knew James must be very aware of it too.

Cilla wondered too how he felt about her, walking with him, wearing his dead wife's coat. She'd seen his face cloud as her helped her into it. Poor James, she wanted to heal him.

Their stomachs were growling by the time Cilla had satisfied her curiosity about clothes and much else. She was like a little girl, flitting wide eyed from store to store. Of course everything was different and she had to see it all. He'd made two trips back to the car with her purchases before she asked about lunch.

She'd loved the restaurant and the strange food. Sitting naked in the coat with people around her. The torment of rough cloth on too sensitive nipples.

Back at the house they'd sat with a pot of tea, full and happy after the big meal. She liked it 'here' she decided. The complicated women's clothes, the food, the freedom to go out and about. She looked across at him. He seemed very happy, the change since he'd stepped though the wall was wonderful to see.

When she announced she had to be going he looked devastated. "I'll be back to see you," she told him gently. "I'll leave all my new clothes with you."

In the bathroom she slipped out of the coat and began putting on her own little red outfit with its silvercollar. The 'slave's collar'! Suddenly she hated it. The still wet fabric pulled snug between her legs had her wanting him again.

They parted in the basement surrounded by dusty boxes and furniture. She thanked him for the clothes. He gallantly said her presence was payment enough. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. She wanted so much more. The wanting ache in the pit of her stomach had never left her since she'd first touched his cock. She'd never felt this screaming longing before. What a beautiful pain it was.

She glanced back and smiled as she stepped through the wall.

Into the grey fog and turn and into 2013. No! It was 2093! Her office! No, not for another eight cycles surely. But it all looked wrong somehow, changed but unchanged. She glanced at the clock, at the year; 2103! Time was now in hundred year bites! Footsteps above her, she froze, then fled.

Back in 'his' basement. The light bright above her head. She was shaking, her knuckles against her teeth.

"James!" she called, then, with an edge of hysteria, she shouted, "James!" She heard his footsteps, his voice, questioning. She couldn't get back! Fear flooded through her ... then a sweet, sweet thought...

cont'd in Part 3 ....................

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