Under a Mistress’ Spell – Episode 2: Christmas

erotica ebooks by Emanuel J

Christmas

Paradise is deserted at Christmas. The mistress is going to her family in the far north, Sofie is on a skiing holiday in France and I and Ilona are visiting her parents who live two hours away in the south. They don’t like me, they wanted a doctor or pharmacist for their little daughter, or a lawyer perhaps, and then they got me as their future son-in-law, the poorest of them. We spend three dull days there, all of us striving for a civilized tolerance, which we halfway manage, especially since the attention goes to Ilona’s younger brother, who was caught with drugs. Fifteen grams of marijuana which is enough for a court. Which is now threatening him. As this drama makes me recede into the background, I benefit for the first time in my life from the revised drug law.
I don’t have to work during the holiday, because there is only an emergency service. The boss supervises it herself together with a driver. Who has to show up in case of an emergency, when a customer unexpectedly runs out of heating oil, which happens from time to time.
After the return from Ilona’s anxious bourgeois parents, we stop by my parents’ house, which is not any more pleasant, and then seek refuge in our apartment to recover from all the family stress. Lazy time without work and other duties, I appreciate it, the sweet laziness, which of course includes the television. But I am not only allowed to watch the beloved Don Camillo and Peppone. I have to watch the cultural program that Ilona watches regularly. The new production of a well-known ballet is discussed and immediately I have to think of the shoes that are part of my slave garb. However, here, in the realm of vanilla sex, this is a highly inappropriate thought, that I try to suppress immediately, but without success. How nice it would be to finally stand in front of my mistress again and Sofie, of course.
The next show is about a painter whose pictures have been exhibited in New York for some time now and are fetching high prices on the market. On the screen a simple-looking woman appears – Irmgard, whom I modelled, no, kneeled for. While some of her pictures are shown, I find it difficult not to tell Ilona that I know this woman. I am no better than others and probably almost everyone likes to boast about the acquaintance with celebrities. But under no circumstances could I report how I know her and that she is about to immortalize me in my slave garb in a painting because that would probably be quite too much for poor Ilona. In any case, her claim of the international breakthrough was not an exaggeration, it was nothing but the truth.
After the show, it is still early in the evening, not even seven o’clock. Ilona asks in a husky voice whether I wouldn’t like to take a shower. I know her well enough to know what that means: she obviously wants to have sex. Why not? I’ll take a quick shower, it won’t hurt, and put on some fresh clothes. Then she disappears into the bathroom and I lie down on the sofa, turn on the TV again, watch a documentary about the North Pole and wait for the things to come.
The things that are coming, no, the thing is Ilona. She is seductively dressed up in a cobalt blue negligee, which I have never seen on her before. It is made of semi-transparent lace with a floral pattern, is low-cut, reaches just over her bottom and makes her look gorgeous.
She smiles at me promisingly. “A gift for you. And I have another…” She sits down next to me on the floor and breathes a kiss on my lips while her hand slides to my lap. Her voice is muffled to whisper, “Today I will do it…”
A little aimlessly she starts to fiddle with my jeans and I help her to unbutton them, I also help her to take them off, which is a bit awkward. The idea of just unzipping the zipper doesn’t seem to occur to her and I don’t suggest it either, as it would probably have seemed too convenient and not romantic enough. She takes off my not so normal pants and looks irritated at my cock, which hangs pathetically small.
I can’t really say that I had a hard day as a reason, but I guess I can say something in defence. “It’ll be okay…”
Her smile becomes confident. “Definitely.”
She strokes it as gently as if she feared it might break, bends down to it and breathes a shy kiss on it.
You might as well do it right. It’s not that bad. Even I could have said that, but I’d rather be quiet. This thought, however, and the accompanying images that emerge in my head all by themselves, do not pass without effect. In no time at all, my willy rises to full size.
Ilona looks at it astonished. “What a little kiss can do…”
I let her believe that it was her work and stroke her hair to encourage her to kiss it again, and indeed she bends down, now she lets the tip of her tongue slide over my dick. Maybe I’ll get to see it sink into her mouth after all…
The phone rings. Now of all times. It lies on the table and my black leatherette bag is open. Startled, I squint across – and it is as if someone had poured boiling hot water over me. My mistress is big and bold for all to read on the display! For God’s sake! It is out of reach, but this text must disappear immediately. Without further ado, I put the call on hold.
Too late! Ilona looks at me in consternation. “Your mistress? What does that mean?”

I helplessly wave. “Oh, nothing. Just a little game.”
She rises from her knees and tries to hide her nakedness behind her arms. “What kind of game?” Her eyes widen as if an almost incomprehensible thought had occurred to her. “These panties? Did you buy them for her? Do you wear them for her?”
I sit down, catch my pants and quickly slip them on. It doesn’t make sense to lie to her any longer and squirm like an eel. I am caught and will make a fool of myself by trying to deny the obvious for even longer. “She just grants me a few wishes.”
“Wishes? What are these wishes?” She trims, ponders, puts her hand over her mouth as if an unbelievable idea had occurred to her. “Does she discipline you too?”
There it is again, that funny word I so carelessly blabbed to her. Surely, it is better not to be specific and not to give away details. Silently, I raise my eyes to the ceiling.
Ilona shakes her head in disbelief. “So, this, t…

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