One Hour with Sir Ch. 03

One Hour with Sir (Ch. 03)

soppingwetpanties

This chapter can be read without the benefit of the prior chapters.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

Chapter Three

"It's lovely," Sir said to me, leaning over my shoulder and admiring the magnificent diamond resting on my ring finger. We were in a small jewelry store not too far from Grand Central Station. I'd already tried on more than a dozen, but this one seemed like the right one. It was a simple round stone, a four carat flawless stone that likely cost more than a luxury car.

We were being waited on by a young, attractive sales assistant, a blonde with a cute bob wearing a well-cut business outfit that did nothing to hide her killer body. Ordinarily pangs of jealousy would bubble up inside me having a comely creature so close to Sir, but I had no doubt He wanted me. I knew that because He was going to marry me. She stepped aside for an older distinguished looking gentleman with black wavy hair, an olive complexion and wearing a dark suit and red tie. He was stockier and shorter than Sir. I didn't recognize him, but he clearly had a connection with Sir. He greeted Sir with a vigorous handshake and then a hug.

"Anders, it's a pleasure to have you back in my store," he said. "So you're getting married after all of these years." Then he turned to address me, looking at me with a more critical eye.

"You must be Catherine." His eyes sparkled as he bent over to kiss my hand.

"I am," I said. His eyes and his kiss betrayed a lustful intent. Goosebumps rose up on my arms.

"You're lovely," he said. "Anders understated your beauty."

There was a gleam of recognition in the man's eyes. I wasn't sure how much he knew about the exact nature of my sexual relationship with Sir. We'd been out and about as an engaged couple and I found out that a good number of Sir's friends shared the same interests that we did.

"Anders has purchased a number of items of custom-made jewelry for you. Atticus Spanos at your service. My friends call me Attie."

So he did know I was Sir's slut. Sir had purchased small gold hoops for my pierced nipples and also a diamond studded collar that were custom made by a jeweler. I guess Attie was that jeweler. The collar had a stainless steel ring attached to it so a leash could be clipped to it. There was no mistaking the use of the ring so Attie must have known I was Sir's submissive. Sir told me to be nice to His friends. Attie was clearly one of them.

"The pleasure is mine Attie. My friends call me Cat," I said.

Attie spotted the diamond ring on my finger. He took my hand and held the ring closer to his eyes for a critical visual inspection using the loupe that was in his trouser pocket.

"This is perfect for you Cat," he pronounced with the authority of someone that knew.

"Cat and I agree," said Sir. "We'll take it."

Attie wiggled the ring on my finger. "It's a little loose. Let me measure her finger so we can size it for you. So when's the lucky day?"

Sir spoke because I didn't know.

"We haven't set a date yet. I've got a busy schedule for the next several months and Cat has at least two trials coming up."

"Three," I said.

"So you're a lawyer?" Attie asked.

"Guilty as charged," I said. "I hate to admit it but I enjoy my job."

Sir jumped in. "Cat's being too modest. She's one of the top trial lawyers in her firm. That's why I have to fight to spend time with her."

"Beautiful and smart, that's a great combination," Attie said.

I noticed on the wall clock that it was already a few minutes past eight. It was dark outside. We'd been there for almost two hours. The last clerk was leaving, unlocking the front door to let herself out. Attie went over and locked the door behind her. Then he came back to us.

"Let's go into my office. I have my tools to size her finger there." He pointed to a hallway behind the counter and to a door on the left side of the hallway.

"Shall we?" Sir asked me, using His hand to wave me ahead to follow Attie.

I followed Attie into this office. It looked like a lawyer's office. Rich, dark wood paneling. A leather topped desk. There was his diploma from St. John's University and pictures of his family on the wall. The furniture was similar to pieces in Sir's playroom. I noticed the attachment points for clips and sturdier legs on the sofa and the chairs. There was no doubt in my mind that Attie was a Dom like Sir.

Attie closed the door of his office. Sir and I settled into the comfortable guest chairs. I crossed my legs at the knee. Sir liked for me to show off my legs and Attie had a vantage point from his desk where he could see them. After shopping for diamonds for the last two hours I felt sexy and horny.

Attie went into his desk drawer and found his set of rings to measure finger size. He took a quick look at my hand and selected three rings. He came over to my side of the desk and slipped the first one on me. It was too tight. The second was snug but comfortable. The third was too roomy.

"7 1/2, just as I thought" Attie said. He wrote down the measurement on an order form. I could see that he was looking at my legs while he was writing. I uncrossed my legs and spread them a foot apart. My intent was unmistakable. Sir was right. I was a wanton oversexed slut. But then again, that's why He was marrying me.

"Next Tuesday OK?" he asked. Attie was still looking at my legs. I pulled up the hem of my skirt a few more inches.

"That'll be fine," said Sir. He watched the little sex show I was putting on for Attie. He looked amused by my efforts. I expected to soon be offered to our esteemed host.

Attie put the form in front of Sir and handed him a pen.

"Sign this form and the ring is yours," he said, and then chuckled. "Well that, and your bank information."

"I'll have my assistant get the wire information from you tomorrow. You have my sincere thanks," Sir said. Then He looked at me and then at Attie. "And Cat wants to show her gratitude as well."

All three of us already knew what was going to happen. "Gratitude" was a euphemism for "Cat is going to fuck your brains out."

Attie had the same eyes as Sir. Dark, ciphers, giving no clue as to his thoughts. But I didn't have to guess. I knew. His eyes were seeing past my clothes and his mind was wondering if I was the slut he thought I was.

"So what should I call her in here?" he asked Sir. I knew the answer but I wasn't going to speak. He didn't ask me.

"Slut," Sir said.

"Original," Attie said.

"It fits," said Sir.

The mood in the room had changed completely. I was the center of attention, but for a completely different reason. Sir was going to test me and I wasn't going to fail him.

Sir was carrying my diamond studded collar in the breast pocket of his suit coat. He pulled it out and tossed it onto Attie's desk. Attie picked it up and took a careful look at it.

"Some of my finest work," he said, fingering the part of the collar with the inset diamonds. He turned to me with the collar, wrapping it around my neck and getting close enough that I could smell his scent, an aftershave I didn't recognize. At least it wasn't overdone. His hands lingered behind my neck as he fastened the collar.

"So beautiful Catherine Martin-Dupont. This collar looks exquisite on you. I want to feel it when my cock goes down your throat. Do you want to feel that as well?"

"If it pleases you," I answered. Sir looked at me with approval. I knew he would. This was the moment I was waiting for. Where all pretense was gone. The moment where I could say and do precisely what I wanted without fear of judgment or recrimination. This is what gave a sexual charge to all of us. It was mutual, consensual and oh so nasty. It's what I craved in my precious hours with Sir over the years, and in due course I would be married to that lifestyle.

I willed Attie to touch me. I wanted Sir to watch him devour me, to render me helplessly in love with the intoxicating pain and pleasure of submission.

Attie's finger touched my lips. Then my chin. Then the cleft between my breasts. I wanted more.

"You're more beautiful than the diamond," he said to me. Then in the next breath he said, "Take off your blouse."

I unbuttoned my blouse but my eyes never left him. His eyes were focused on my fingers, watching me as I exposed myself to him, unashamed. Sir wanted me to do this and I would do anything for him.

"Very nice," Attie said. "Now the bra."

Again, I watched him watch me. My hands went behind my back, making me thrust my chest out for him. A smile grew on his face as I dropped the bra on the floor, showing him my pert "B" cup breasts that Sir loved to worship.

"I'm jealous of Anders." He pointed to the pronounced bulge in his pants.

"Look Cat. Look what you're doing to me by just letting me gaze at your breasts."

I could see Sir out of the corner of my eye and I saw Him looking at me with pride. I was pleasing his friend and pleasing Him.

"Now the skirt."

I was wearing what Sir wanted me to wear, what I usually wore for him, a black pencil skirt. It accentuated the lines of my hips and legs in a way that pleased Him. It pleased Attie when he watched the skirt slide off my hips. I was standing in his office, nude from the waist up, wearing only my panties and my black pumps with four inch heels.

"My jealousy knows no bounds," he said. He came over to me and cupped the gusset of my sopping wet panties. He smiled when he felt the moist heat between my legs. I was in heat and he knew it.

"My, my, Catherine Martin-DuPont. You're excited. I'd say very excited. Is it because you know I'm about to fuck your pussy and ass?"

He knew me. My body was incapable of lying. I wanted him. Sir wanted me to fuck him.

"It is," I said. There would be no secrets in this room. I was willing to admit it out loud.

He made me make good on the promise I made to myself.

"It is what? Tell me Catherine Martin-DuPont. Tell me what you want."

"I want you to fuck my pussy and ass. Fuck me until I beg you to cum."

He tugged on the waistband of my lacy panties. They were so wet my sex was well defined under the sticky material.

"Give them to me," he said.

I stepped out of my panties, leaving them on the floor, and was about to use my left hand to take off one of my high heels.

"Leave those on," he said.

So I went to him, wearing only my collar and heels, and handing him my panties. He crushed them against his nose, inhaling deeply, wanting to smell my intoxicating mating call. I expected him to throw me on the floor and fuck me.

Instead, he reached towards me and hooked his index finger inside the metal ring on my collar, pulling me close enough to him that I could see the shadow of his beard on his skin. The front of his suit jacket touched my bare skin. He gently placed his hand on my shoulder and pressed down.

I knelt at his feet, presenting myself to receive his command. He let his hands drop to his side, an invitation for me to unbuckle his belt, unfasten the waistband of his pants and pull down his zipper. He stood there still to let his pants fall in a puddle on the floor. He was wearing old fashioned boxer shorts. I tugged them down to the floor, allowing him to show me his raging erection.

He wasn't as long as Sir but as wide as a beer can. I wondered if I could swallow such a beast. I formed the submissive "O" with my lips and went down on him, touching my lips to the flared head, letting the copious precum ease the passage of his cock down my throat. I was going to swallow him come hell or high water. He groaned with each inch that passed my lips until I could go no further, burying my nose in his thick nest of black curly hairs and fighting to stay down on him.

"Ohhhhh," Attie lowed like a wounded animal. I was trained well by Sir to use my throat muscles to constrict around his cock. He wasn't going to last much longer.

I reached around back of him and cupped his ass cheeks to hold me flush against him. I wanted him to see the bulge in my throat and know for certain what a slut I was.

He pulled out, denying me a taste of his seed. Damn him.

"Not yet slut," he said. We weren't near done and I'd already taken him to the edge. He thought he was in control and was fighting to maintain it. That was part of the game. The resistance. The denial.

He made me stand up and touched the underside of my breast, lifting it up to assess its weight. He let it drop and must have enjoyed the pleasing bounce. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together over my nipple, pinching it and pulling it away from my body until he forced a sigh out of my mouth.

"You've pleased me slut," he said, smiling at me. "Now put your hands on the desk and set your feet back and apart."

That was my favorite fucking position. My ass sticking out, begging him to fuck me there. I felt the head of his cock enter my pussy, pleasingly filling me up.

"Yes!" I cried out. "Fuck me harder."

His drove his hips into me, slapping against my ass so hard I had to constrict my core to keep him from driving me into the desk. He leaned over my back and reached around me to cup my breasts while he was fucking me. Knowing that Sir was watching me made it that much better. I wanted to cum and it was time to test the benevolence of my new lover.

"Please . . . please," I implored him. I didn't need to spell it out. I just wanted his permission.

He knew what I wanted but didn't answer. His hips were slamming into me faster, making my need dire. I was about to plead with more urgency, but he pulled out, leaving me on the edge of the precipice, teetering and then being pulled back.

"I'm begging you," I said to him. He obviously wanted me to grovel. I wanted to play my part.

"Where do you want it?" he asked me.

I told him where I wanted it.

"In my ass . . . fuck me in my ass."

It was only fitting that we would consummate our relationship in this way, fucking my ass and satiating our basest desires. Sir had taught me to crave anal sex and that fire was burning bright inside me.

I got on my hands and knees on the floor and reached back and spread the cheeks of my ass apart, showing him where I wanted his love. He got on his knees behind me and guided himself into the tiny opening, stretching it to its limit to accommodate the girth of his cock.

"Oh God yessss," I hissed at him, feeling the sweetest of pain as he eased himself inside me with tenderness. The burn morphed into a white hot heat. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head was back while he fucked me. I wanted to howl at the moon to tell Sir how much pleasure I was feeling.

I wanted to be one with him, pushing back with each thrust so he could wholly possess me. He responded by pulling my hair harder so my head was arched backward and my eyes were looking at the ceiling. Pain and pleasure were fighting for control of my emotions. I felt dizzy, a rumbling deep inside that I fought to keep bottled up but was failing. Then he uttered the words I was aching to hear.

"Cum for me slut. Show me how much you love me fucking your ass. Show me slut."

He knew the emphasis on the last word of his order was the humiliation I craved, on my hands and knees in his office, being ass fucked and shamelessly cumming for him, showing him that I was his slut. I let the floodgates open and was awash in a torrent of sinful pleasure. Then I felt his hips freeze against my ass. I knew he was cumming in my ass, spitting his hot seed deep into my bowels, the perfect ending to our depraved dance. We stayed coupled until he sighed and pulled out of me. I could feel his hot cum dribbling down the inside of my thigh.

Sir squatted down and used his finger to tip up my chin so I was looking at Him. There was sweat running down my forehead and I was sure my hair and makeup was beyond repair. He kissed two of His fingers and placed them on my lips.

"I love you Catherine Martin-DuPont," He said to me.

"I love you too Sir," I said to Him.

* * *

Norman was waiting curbside next to Sir's Bentley with the rear passenger door open and the motor running, a plume of white smoke curling skyward behind it. The night air was cool and crisp and shoppers passed us by on their way home carrying on noisy conversations and oblivious to the sex show I just starred in. Sir escorted me to the car and I slid in first, skimming across the fine leather in my white fake fur coat. Sir made me leave my clothes in a shopping bag so all I had on were my collar and high heels, the perfect outfit for His slut. Sir got in after me, looking handsome in his heavy cashmere coat; his cheeks reddened by the stiff winter breeze.

"That was fun," I said to Him. We'd already had a couple scenes like the one we just had with Attie.

Sir chuckled at my observation. "I think our definition of fun is a bit different than other folks," He said.

The car pulled away from the curb, making its way to Sir's brownstone on the Upper East Side. The traffic was surprisingly heavy for the time of day, our car stuck in traffic and idling alongside a parked car on a narrow side street. I looked out my window and could see a couple with a baby in a car seat in the back of their sensible Japanese sedan. I wondered what life would be like with Sir as a conventional couple in a conventional marriage. My job never allowed me the luxury of a husband and children. Most of my partners that went that route were already divorced and many on their second (or third) marriages.

I had chosen a different route, being married to Sir, and had no doubt it was the right choice for me.

The car started moving again and the couple with the baby was now behind us. Sir was busy answering messages on His phone while I was musing about a life I would never have. He put his phone away and put His hand on the lapel of my coat.

"Norman, could you put up the privacy screen?" Sir called out.

"Of course," Norman replied.

A smoked glass window rose up, blocking Norman's view of the back seat.

Sir pulled on the lapel. My coat fell open. I made no effort to cover myself. After all, I belonged to Him.

"Catherine . . . Catherine. I never thought I'd get married . . ."

"Nor I."

"But you . . . from the first time I saw you at that club I knew, I knew somehow we'd be together."

His hand rested on my breast.

"So perfect Cat. Your body. I can't get you out of my mind."

I put my hand over the hand He had pressed against my breast, holding Him close to my heart.

"Did you feel at all jealous when Attie had his way with me?" I asked. I wanted assurance even though I knew I had it.

I released His hand, and it wandered down my tummy to my shaved pubic patch, still slick from the cream that oozed out of me when Attie fucked me in the ass. I flinched when His finger teased my clit.

"It makes me want you more," Sir said to me, pushing His finger inside me. I opened my legs like a wanton slut, inviting Him to fuck me in any way that He wanted.

He drew His juice coated finger out of me and presented it to me. I opened my mouth to receive it.

"How does it taste kitten?"

"Like sex," I said. "Like the primal sex I had with Attie."

"Do you want to taste me?" He asked. It was a rhetorical question because He knew the answer.

"Always," I said.

I quickly undid His belt and trousers. He lifted His hips off the seat to allow me to slide the pants to His ankles. His boxers had a pronounced dark spot from the leakage of His penis.