Valentine’s day 23

The soft leather is held in my two hands, held so as to take up the slack. The soft sound of flesh and bone moving over hard wood accompanies our walk. The patio doors open onto a concrete path colored as brick and molded in the likeness. This leads to a small table and awning where we take leasurely breakfasts or hold high protocol tea in the winter months. But our path takes us right, over the beaten dirt path leading to a small area fenced with decorative knee high lattice. Here is a soft well maintained grass lawn. Strewn about are large toys. A beach ball, a small water bowl, a bone and chewed on teddy bear. These are arranged carelessly and carefully. Staging the scene for my girl-fox.

I reach down and unclip the leash. I run my hand down and scritch her head. She looks up at me with eager happy eyes. Completely lost in the float. In being my good fox girl. I feel myself tighten and suppress a shudder of partial orgasm. Seeing her in total eager submission, completely free and joyous…I wouldn’t trade it for all the gold in the sea.

“Go play, my fox.” I smile the order.

She looks back at me once and prances away to her water dish. She leans her delicate face to the calm reflection and laps up the cool water.

I look back and see, just barely, the head of my Sara. Positioned so that she can can catch glimpses of movement through the half closed curtains of the bedroom window. Just enough to tease at things happening beyond her knowing. I know that her hips will just be starting to burn. I know because one of our exercises is for her to hold that position and, as the minutes pass, describe to me every physical sensation she is experiencing. It allows me to gauge timing for these activities and allows her to completely occupy her body on a immediate intimate level. People mostly ignore the millions of sensations they are experiencing, but it’s in the simple shifts that we can truly feel.

My fox girl, lithe nakedness and swaying fox tail is worrying her bear. It’s arm held in her mouth, she shakes her head and paws at it. She looks to back to me, her master, and I beam at her. She turns back to her bear. I watch as she rolls on her back, rubbing her back against the grass to reach a itch. Her tits jiggling and taught against her, nipples erect. The flashes of soft blonde bush through her legs. The tightness of her stomach and ass as she unconsciously maintains the tension to hold her tail in place. She’s magnificent and I’m so grateful for her.

Valentine’s day 22

You know, what seems simple as you drift off to sleep is never quite the same as dreams fade. I know I had a great idea that put me at my ease but now I just can’t recall it.

My eyes drift across the softly snoring form of my Sara. I could have Tara wield the whip, but no she’s not ready for that. Leashes and walkies? No, Sara dislikes humiliation and she’s done nothing to deserve a punishment. Simple may be best.

I slip out of bed and pad to the closet. Simple slacks and a buttondown worn untucked. The grey slacks and cream shirt with the herringbone buttons. Clothing is a form of armor but in this case merely a canvas for later ventures.

I walk the five feet back to the bedroom and see Sara watching me. My smile pours out; matched by her grin until, like a candle, it’s snuffed out. I school my face to impassivity. A cool mask belied by wicked eyes.

“First position,” I purr.

Languid, almost boneless, Sara falls graceful as a cat to her knees. She leans back. Sitting on her legs folded underneath, shoulders thrown back, eyes cast down.

“Wait here, in position, until I return.”

“Yes Sir,” her voice a deep pool of acceptance.

I walk to Tara and gently shake her awake. Her eyes slowly open, telling me that her sleep is feigned. Never in the time I’ve known her has she ever woken so easily to a interrupted sleep.

“Put on your collar, my little fox. Let us go for a walk in the garden.”

Walking in the garden is something we do when dear Tara is feeling a bit more animal than human.

Proudly, Tara places her new collar around her neck, pulling the clasp closed but not tightly. I reach down and cinch it down. Close enough to not chafe but not so tight so as to choke. Tara reaches into my pants for her lead and pulling the soft leather leash snaps it into place. Shyly looking at me, she places the lead into my hand. I beam at my dear pet. I know she’s seen Sara do this but I didn’t expect her to be so equally bold.

I lead her to the black oak toy chest and pull the chrome butt plug with fox tail from its position. She shifts and smiles up at me, skipping my heart a beat. With thoroughness, her eyes a heady weight on my motions, I slather the plug in velvety lube.

“Present, please,” my voice soft but full of command and desire.

Tara turns and leans against the hardwood floor, cheek pressed flush, head turned, presenting the soft pink pucker for her present.

I run my fingers around, exploring the edges. Soft, pleasant loam drifting from her. I work the remaining lube over her. Into her, probing with wet fingers, the slight hitch in her breathing my reward. I press the point of the bulb in. Meeting with resistance then relaxation sucks it in as I press, inexorably, in.

And voila, my foxy girl has her tail. And a gentleman has his pet.

Valentine’s Day 21

It’s easiest to say that we fell to a comfortable sleep. But it’s just the barest hint of the truth.

The truth is, tired as I was, I spent a good long while thinking before I slipped into the vale of sleep. Sara was facing away, buttocks pressed against me. Her soft blonde hair a bit frizzy and stirring in the eddies of the air conditioner. The muscled form of her all safe and safety. And snoring like a baby bear, soft and rumbely.

Sara would never come out and say it but she is giving me time to sort my feelings. Of the two of us she is the more practical whereas I am the more ruthless. She would say that I should just give it time. That if we push, we’ll cause problems. She’s not wrong. But I am almost constitutionally incapable of not pushing, so she gives me the gift of time.

I had planned this whole elaborate honeymoon scene. Rose petals and whips, sensation play and edge. And I just can’t work my head around it not being a true honeymoon. But laying here, with Tara curled into me, I can’t help but admit the truth. I could adapt the scene, more black leather than the specially bought white, cinnamon instead of vanilla. But I can’t seem to let it go. I had my heart set, I believed that Tara would say yes and, I’m not a fool, I can see that she’d run or break and undo everything we’ve done if I push. And I don’t know how to not push.

The fear says let it slide. Get up. Make dinner. Do some chores. Watch a movie. Just be for awhile. And it’s terribly tempting. But I’ve neglected Sara trying to be primal for Tara. She deserves better from me. And how do I reinforce that we value Tara without ignoring her while I serve Sara’s needs. This is the dilemma. If it were just Sara and I, I would tie her up and use gentle touches coupled with slaps of the riding crop as foreplay. And so an idea forms. Of how to incorporate all of us together into the scene. All serving our individual purposes.

A slow smile breaks across my face. Tension pours out of me and I cuddle down next to Tara. And reaching my right arm behind me, cup my hand on the smooth soft of my wife’s thigh. Somehow, this always soothes me and I drop off to sleep.

Valentine’s Day 20

The steam billows out the open door, swirling and concealing. I wait, holding a towel open for Sara. She steps into my arms and I work the towel over her wet skin. I savor these two minutes where she is trapped against me. She could say no at any time; she could call red and we would just relax for the rest of the evening.
“Your clothes are on the bed. Put them on then make me a Mojito,” I say.
Sara leans against me, the curvature of her body pressing in. The hot smell of lemon and basil drifts up from her hair. Her lips press against my ear and she whispers, “Yes, Sir.”
She pulls away, her hand trailing against my arm, soft fingertips playing against my arm.

I catch her hand in mine and pull her back in.

I whisper in her ear, “Bring me the leather clad wooden paddle, the one I like.”

I dismiss her with a flick of my eyes and turn my attention to the wet and shivering Tara.
I swaddle Tara in the still damp towel and pull her to me. I find myself thinking about spanking Sara while I take my pleasure with Tara. It’s impossible but I grow painfully hard with the thought.
I thought I would need longer to recover and, truthfully, there is no chance at a orgasm from me but I still need this. I look into Tara’s eyes and she looks eager. Like a puppy about to be given a treat. I guess she can feel me through the towel.
I catch her wrists and push her to the bed, nearly throwing her down. She looks up with her scared doe eyes. Her mouth parts and I have this flash of pushing my cock against those lips, feeling her tongue work against me. But she will fail. I won’t put her in a position where she might feel like she failed me.
Instead, I command, “Turn over and spread your ass to receive me.”
I see the look of reluctance steal across her expressive face and I feel triumphant. The mask she would have worn has fallen away and she gives me the truth of her. But still she lays face down against the bed, legs spread wide and hands pushed into her ass. Pulling her soft cheeks apart and revealing the clean pink pucker of a just cleaned anus.
I unzip my pants and run the slick lube over my pulsing flesh. I kneel on the bed and push myself into the tightness of her. The sound of her whimper pulls a growl from my throat. I pull back and slam back into her. Feeling the resistance, feeling her heat.

I slam into her again and again. I just need to feel this connection to her. Just need her to know that I need her. Need her always.
I pull out of her with a soft slorp and pull her around to face me. She is smiling. Teeth just exposed in a soft expression. Like she knows. Like she knows that, had I the ability, I’d always be touching her.
“Put on your collar and write in your journal. Then join us in the living room,”  I order.
I walk into the bathroom to clean up. The steam still stains the large mirrors. Heat slowly escaping out the open door. I let out a long shuddering breathe. I’d meant to bring us back to zero. Back to service and sensuality but splitting my attention seems to make me feel inadequate. Forcing me to prove that I’m enough for both my girls. I raise my eyes to the fogged in mirror. The blurring softens the minute lines at my eyes and mouth. I let the wet hot air stream into my lungs. I need to talk to them about it.
But first, I soap up and wash up.

Stepping out, I see Tara wearing her pink collar with the hearts on it and writing in her journal. She melts my heart. As if it weren’t already melty. Leaning over, I plant a kiss on her forehead.

“I love you, my kitten.” I say.
She smiles and says, “I love you too, Pel.”

I force myself to walk into the kitchen. My Sara is standing with a pitcher full of Mojitos on the counter. More than enough for all three of us.
I walk over, slipping my hand around her waist and pulling her to me.
She leans back to me.
“Everything all right,” she asks.

“Just tired my lovely. I can’t seem to keep my hands off of Tara,” I reply.
“There’s a reason we chose her Pel. And a reason she’s worked out for so long. She’s just about perfect. And you know, I love her too.”
“I know, my dear. I just don’t want to short you,” I reply.
Sara turns and puts the pitcher in the refrigerator. “Hon, why don’t we take a nap? We can talk about it after we’re rested.”
I sigh. “Sounds great.” I take my loves soft hand in mine. “Let’s tell Tara together.”
Impishly, Sara smiles up at me.
“Let’s.”

Valentine’s day 19

The problem with planning a day like this is there are always surprises. I completely missed that Tara was not ready to marry us. I didn’t anticipate that she would need comfort for saying no. And I didn’t anticipate having a scene in the car on the drive home. I’m completely exhausted. I don’t think I have another scene in me. At least not for a few hours. But how do I stall is the question.

The ladies are using the bathroom before we start again while I wait. I’ve dragged a stool to the center of the room and sit here pondering the next step. It’s not about sex. Though, for us, that’s a part of it. Maybe I need to bring us back to focus.

I walk into the bedroom. The sounds of our shower drift through the open door. A clear invitation but not what I think is needful, though it makes me smile. My girls are always very happy and considerate. Except when they are angry or sad or upset. They are by no means dolls.

But it’s my job to get them to here, where the world can’t touch us. And they make it so that my anxiety doesn’t spill out and sink me into depression. Because, I can’t think about my darkness when they are in need and by the time they are taken care of and I get a ‘Yes, Sir’ confirmation, all that inner turmoil has gone. Replaced by the deep glow of Dominance float.

For me that means a deep well of calm and light settled below the absolute certainty of control and love. It’s the best feeling in the world. I highly recommend it.

I am browsing through the closet for an outfit for my girls. Something matching perhaps? Or no, something suited to the next task. And despite my current inability to perform, I find myself excited to run my hands across the sweet flesh of Sara and Tara, after all I’m not a robot.

The black silk dress pants and cream blouse for Sara. No panties. I want her to feel the brush of silk over sensitive places.
For Tara, a walking harness made of white soft lace and the pink leash with the silver hearts.

I carry my selections out to the bedroom and lay each item out. Pants first, then blouse, then harness then leash. The anticipation builds in me. Pressure welling in my pelvis. A tightening that strums me like a violin string. Right! Music…

John Coltrane, “A Love Supreme” in its entirety. Perfect. The first strains spill out into the room calling like a siren. Luring my intrepid sailors to shore.

Valentine’s day 18-Sara

Spent and more than a little sore, I wake from my drowse. The car has stopped and through the windows our house sits invitingly.

We are tangled together in a sweaty sleepy pile. Pel has snuggled his face into my hair and is cupping my right breast. His breathe lifts his chest in long slow draughts. Craning my neck and peering behind, I see Tara is entwined with Pel. Holding him as close to her, skin to skin, as much as possible. Outside, Jen waits patiently in the afternoons soft heat.

I shift my weight to grab a moist towlette and feel Pel go rigid. He has long since become something of a manager but in his business it pays to be alert even in sleep. I wish sometimes he had stayed in the safe corporate job he took early in our relationship but, after that night, he just couldn’t keep up the facade.

“It looks like we are home,” Pel murmurs sleepily. He scoots over and softly kisses Tara until her eyes flutter open. For a split second you can see the panic in her eyes, then they close half lidded as she sinks into the kiss.

Pel. He’s been with us multiple times today but still his ardor is not dimmed. Instead, it seems to be stoked to full flame. A small smile grows on my face and I quickly clean up.

I slip back into my dress and am just replacing holster and jacket when I hear them break apart, gasping for air. I roll my eyes a bit but the truth is I’ve been on the receiving end of one of those kisses and they are worth a bit of gasping.

Looking over I see Pel zipping his pants and slipping on his shoes, his socks lost somewhere in the back of the limo. Tara has already wiggled back into her dress. And we’re ready to go. I’m fairly sure that the neighbors know something of what goes on but there is no need to throw it in their faces, as two naked women and a half dressed man would definitely do.

I rap on the window and Jen pulls open the door. Jen is the head of Pel’s security detail and his driver. I have no doubt she saw more than a little of what we were doing. Something that adds a exhibitionist spice to it all. But she is quite happy with her wife Elizabeth and, despite an open offer, has never been less than professional.

She offers a hand, which I’m happy to accept, and she helps me out. These heels make it hard to get out on my own. Meeting her eyes a little wickedly, I know that I’ve flashed her a bit. Her slight upturn smile tells me that. But if this kind of thing upsets her, she never would have lasted as Pel’s driver for long.

Valentine’s day 17

The press of our bodies heats the air. Musk and sex fill the back seat. I bury my face into the crook of her neck, pressing the muscle of tongue against the flutter of her beating veins. We push up together and I pull down, as she crests down. Like a wave that moves her onto me over and over. Parted for less than a second, but starved for each other.

I hear a soft sound to my left and see Sara watching us, drinking us in, memorizing us. Like a movie she’ll play back later. I reach down and rub my thumb against hood, grazing clit in time to our thrusts. I feel Tara tighten like a fist around me each time I brush clit. I know she’s right on the verge. I slow down, watching pulse slow then quickly build our momentum again. I feel myself start to lose control. Any second I’ll be past the point of no return.

That won’t do.

I slow again but quicken my thumb and make sure the slower thrusts run over and over the rough gspot. I watch as Tara clenches over me, pulse against pulse as she goes boneless. I almost lost control.

The pains of having two lovers’ needs to take care of. I move Tara to the seat across from me and she sprawls languid in afterglow. I turn to Sara to see her sliding to her knees and bends face first in Tara’s still tender pussy. I watch as my wife runs her tongue in long slow circles. Little minx.

Punishment for not waking her up I suppose. Brat. Well, surprises all around then. But I will admit that watching my love cause our pet, our girl, to writhe and moan just destroys me. I could watch them for hours. Just because I know they enjoy it and enjoy me watching them. And they are mine. If I were any happier it would be illegal.

But, Sara knows that she should have asked permission first so, let the punishment fit the crime. I pour the lube from the warming tray down into Sara’s soft pink pucker. I hear the intake of surprise but she keeps to her slurping task. I work in the lube into her. Then pour more onto my cock. I’d normally have opened her up a bit with a plug first but she’s no stranger to my cock in anywhere I desire. I’m just normally more deliberate and orderly.

But today, I press in against her, pushing until I feel resistance then holding, then pushing deeper until I hear her softly whimpering and pushing back against me. I know that without the preliminary she has to be in pain even if she is also in pleasure. Gods, I love my little pain slut. Always give them what they need.

I pull out leaving only the head and slam back in, eliciting a scroam. Half scream half moan. And quickly pound into her. No thought to what else she may need. This is a punishment. I ram my body against her slapping into her as hard and fast as I can until, overwhelmed by her undulating the inner walls of her anus, effectively sucking my cock with her ass. Minx. I blow into her. I feel myself empty into her ass and I pull out with a soft pop. I look over at her and she is smiling, radiant in pain and pleasure.

“Tara, dear, please clean out Sara’s ass. She’s made a mess,” I order.

Tara has been watching for a minute while I worked over Sara.

Sara angles her muscular ass to Tara and winks at her. Brat.

I catch the wink in the tinted windows. Shaking my head, I say “Sara, clean your stink from my cock. You have made a mess.”

Knowing how much Sara hates humiliation, not a hard limit but she loathes it, she knows she took it too far. She bends her head to my sloppy cock dripping cum, lube and ass juices. She begins to lick me clean. Our eyes holding each other, she licks right up the center vein. I feel myself growing hard. I’m not made of stone.

Sometimes I wonder who’s really in charge.

Valentine’s day 16

It’s been a day of surprises I think. I was so sure Tara would say Yes. I suppose I was lost in the romantic idea that a collar and a wedding on the same day would be a great story. I catch a glimpse of Tara on my left.
She’s curled up, held in my wife’s arms.

Sara sleeps with the sunlight streaming into the back seat of the car. The heat lulling her to drowsiness. Softly snoring in the way I find so cute. Though, in all honesty, I find most everything about her cute. Gods, I love her. I sometimes have this conflict because of that. She desires pain and in the throws of it she is glorious. And I enjoy her pleasure. But it’s so hard to start hurting her. To think up these scenes and walking the edge that she needs. I suppose I’m more D/s than S/M. But I’ll keep her happy. She really has me wrapped around her finger. Even if I’m the one laying down rules and behaviors. Punishment and play. She would never top from the bottom, but through our love she has mastered me. I can’t conceive of a situation where I’d will it otherwise.

I grab Tara’s leg and pull her towards me.
She starts awake in fear. Her eyes going wide. I place my finger to her lips. She stills.

“We should finish what you started in the Garden,” I whisper.

Her smile spreads lighting up a face which moments before was a mask of fear. She crawls over to me and unzips the soft cotton pants. Her slight rough calloused hand pulls me free. The feeling of her clutching my cock is delicious. I want to see what she will choose. I give no direction or order. Just revel in the warmth of her touch, eyes half lidded.

I feel her locks cascade down the length of me. A waterfall of individual strands moving over sensitive nerves. Her lips press down over the head of my cock. Lips just parted enough to provide pressure. She works her way down me. Savoring the softness of flesh over steel. Her teeth scrape against bulbous head, sending a tidal wave of shivers down my spine. But still, I am quiet.

I guide her mouth off of me. Hands brushing her cheek. My girl. Mine.

“Face me. And wear me.” I state.

She straddles me. Her dress riding up revealing the pale curve of her ass. Crisscrossed pale lines of scarring from previous canings stand out. Her lower lips suck me in as eagerly as her mouth did. Pressing over the hard/soft button of her pleasure.

I lift my eyes to hers, slowly drinking her in. The feeling of fabric and the heat of our joining blurring the lines of beginning and ending. I press my lips to hers. Softly at first. Just pressing in, smelling the wafting musk of heat and bodies. I fall on her like a beast. Pressing into her mouth, our tongues fighting to taste and press against each other. Holding us tightly together. Trying to merge as completely as possible. Needing her. This animal connection.

Valentine’s day 15

This day has not gone as I planned it. I thought that Tara would marry us. I still hope she will. I feel a bit of a depression spiral coming on. This is mitigated by Tara curling against me. The soft warmth of her pressing through her dress. The subtle scent of peach that is all her and nothing of perfume. We are still at the gathering and there is some guy presenting but I have not a thought for that.

I press my face into the soft curls. The silk strands brushing against my cheek. I press my lips, closed and firm, yielding and gentle against my girls neck. Like a tide, fierce possession rolls in, filling me. Tightening deep inside of me.

I feel Tara’s body shudder against mine. Her heart thumping so hard her entire body rocks. I run hands down her side tracing whorls on skin. I pull her close to me. Wishing only that we were alone. That we could slowly explore each other. Until nature wars with desire and more complex needs break away.

Tara loves me. She’s just overwhelmed. But I know now how to proceed. I just needed her. To know that we belong together. I reach for Sara and her hand finds mine. She scootches close. Like a circuit completing a connection we are whole.

I feel Sara’s nails run down my arm. Starting at the top of my spine, a shudder runs through me. Tara lays against me. Our bodies melding together. Not hearing the zip, I’m so lost, I feel her hand pull my too controlled cock, still flaccid out. She stuffs me into her warmth. I grow inside, filling. She just knew. Or just needed this deeper connection. We are finally found. Accepted. Needed.

I wish this moment to end. That we might begin something more… complex. I wish this moment forever. I am whole in the embrace of my love. And I’m home in a way I’ve never looked for but always felt slightly uncomfortable due to its lack.

Valentine’s day 14 – Sara’s voice

I would have told Pel it was too soon had he bothered to ask me. I don’t disapprove and we had discussed it but I didn’t think he would be this rash. But of course he would.

I don’t know why I thought this time it’d be different. He takes awhile to work himself up to something but once he does, he commits to it fully. And there was never a stupidly romantic gesture that he could ever pass up.

Collared and married on the same day makes for a great story but Tara had to be overwhelmed. After we assured her that we both wanted this, she settled down. However, her nature is skittish as a colt.

Pel doesn’t realize that she is a true submissive. I’m sub behind the bedroom door. I am a proud pain slut but our 24/7 is all scene oriented. Tara needs to please her master and surprises throw her off. She’s thinking, what did she miss, what mistake did I make.

Pel knows about her abuse. He knows how to help her through that. How to treat her but he’s never had a true 24/7 Submissive. He’s lucky I’m here to help him. Cause he’d be at a loss. She’s sitting on his lap listening to him tell her a story. I imagine it’s something lascivious. And I hear the soft tinkle of her giggle.

I look over and see Pel looking at me. Knowingly, like he’s reading a book of my thoughts. He smiles and say “It’ll be OK, my brightest day.”

How does he fucking do that!
I reply, “Yes, my darkest night.” As protocol demands. Damn the man, he’s infuriating.
And he’s mine, mine, mine, I think as the grin breaks across my face.

The speaker is someone new. Tall and swarthy, kinda smarmy. Dark and cute but slimy. I don’t think he belongs here. We are protocol oriented and safety conscious.

Practically speaking, I think Pel uses this group to Vet potential masters before releasing them out into the wild. Tara’s former master is not abnormal. This lifestyle draws predators like flies to watermelon. I don’t think Pel appreciates their “interference” as he calls it.

He’s so feudal minded. He considers his territory to be inviolate and anyone that threatens that he removes. If I didn’t know that he took protecting us so seriously, that he did it from a place of love and trust, I’d think him a specialized serial killer. Looking for prey. But the community IS better for it. In a real way, our community needs policing as much as any society.