Thank You, Samantha!

Tuesday afternoon, Richie was left on his own. Jen was at the office and Joan and Ava had gone out with Ma and Joanna for a girls’ day out. He messed around on the computer for a while, but the raunchy talk was making him miss Jennifer. He called Jon and talked to him for a while, and was still on the phone with him when the women returned from their day out. Richie dropped the phone to the floor with a clatter. He could hear Jon yelling at him, but could only stare at his daughter. Ava was glammed up. There was no other phrase to describe how she looked. She had light makeup on, her hair was styled into an elegant chignon, and her wide smile made her look, well, just like her mother.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" She said, frowning. "Don't I look pretty?"

Richie shook himself. "Angel, 'pretty' doesn't begin to cover it. You look beautiful." He kissed her cheek. "Did Joanna get dolled up, too?"

"Yep, she sure did. We had fun taking pictures. Nana and Ma have some, I'm sure they'll show you." Richie smiled at the way Ava called Jennifer's mother "Ma".

Ava preened and Joan caught his eye over Ava's head. Smiling at his gobsmacked expression, she asked, "Who's on the phone?"

"Shit!" He exclaimed and picked the device up off the floor. "Sorry man, I just aged 10 years. You should see what they did to my baby girl. She looks about sixteen."

Jon chuckled. "S'alright," he said. "Just wait until she's sixteen and looks twenty-two. Then we'll talk." Jon sighed. "Look, I gotta go anyway," he said. “Catch ya later."

"Yeah, sure," Richie answered.

He hung up and went in search of his women. Well, the women who were home. Joan had taken Ava out back to feed the ducks who seemed to like the pond out there. "Whatcha girls doing?" he asked.

Ava pulled a face and sighed. "Daddy, we're trying to feed the ducks, but you're too big. You're scaring them. Go away."

"Love you too, baby," Richie said. "But okay. Come find me when you're done with the ducks."

Richie smiled as he went back inside. With his mother and daughter occupied, he knew what he was going to do. He was hitting the board. He ensconced himself in their bedroom, and booted his laptop. When he signed onto the board and started reading the posts from one of the more naughty of Jen’s friends, his erection nearly knocked the computer off his lap.

You finally notice me, sitting in that chair in the corner. I think you may have an idea what’s coming once you see the leather. And the boots.

“Well, hello darlin’,” your voice dips low, husky, your eyes taking it all in, from the pointed heels of my boots to the pony whip I’m slowly stroking in my palm.

“No more talking,” I say, my voice seeming as if it’s coming from someone else. Hard. Brooking no arguments.

I walk toward you, eyeing my prey.

You stand straight, watching me. Is that amusement I see glinting in your eyes?

That’s mistake number one, my friend.

I slowly trace the end of my whip down your throat, down your chest, down your abdomen. With the tip, I lift the soft cotton hem of your t-shirt to trace the outline of your ab muscles.

They twitch, obviously enjoying the attention. Fascinated, I drag my fingernails across those abs as I circle behind you. “Richard,” I begin, the tone of my voice a warning, “there are only three words you’re allowed to utter now.”

Your eyebrow inches up your forehead as you wait. Your mind is full of questions, but you know you’ve just given up the privilege of asking them.

I complete the circle, standing in front of you, my breath on your lips, my eyes commanding you not to look down.

“Your safety word is mercy. When you say this, I will stop. But make sure you want me to.” The whip is circling your burgeoning erection and at the moment, the last thing you want me to do is stop.

“Your pleasure word is more. When you say this, I will take it to the next level.” You gasp as I reach forward and grab your shirt at the collar, efficiently ripping it off your body. “Very nice,” I say with a pleased smile when I notice your cock is now straining above the waistband of your jeans, already oozing pre-cum.

“And the third word?” You gasp, more turned on than you’ve ever been.

I arch a brow and swat your side with the wispy ends of the whip. “I SAID no talking.”

You lower your head in, not quite submission yet, but acquiescence.

I smile. I know it won’t be long. “The third word is my name. That is the only name you need to remember from now on. Of course, I suppose that means we need to add a fourth word.”

You blink, staring at the floor. I raise your chin with my finger until you’re looking directly into my eyes.

“You may call me Mistress Jennifer.”

"Sweet Jesus," he said, turning away. Then he turned back and read it again. Then he reached for the phone.

"Jennifer Petruzzo," she said, distractedly.

"Hey, darlin', whatcha up to?" he said, in a low, sultry voice.

Jennifer chuckled as she walked up the hallway toward her next meeting. "I take it you read Sam's latest bit of porn? She's trying that out for a story she's working on; I take it that it works for you?"

"Oh hell yeah it works for me," he said, stroking his cock. "Can she see into my head or something? I know I told her my little desire, but hell, she jumped all over it."

"She sure did, baby," Jennifer said, whispering.

"Oh, damn, I love it when you talk all low and sexy like that," Richie said, breathing hard.

Jennifer paused to listen. "Tell me you aren't doing what I think you're doing? Dammit, Rich, I can't believe I'm missing out."

"Don't worry, there'll be more for you when you get home..." His stroking was getting more insistent.

"What about the other people in the house?"

"They're outside, and trying to distract me isn't going to work; I'm picturing you in that cat suit and stilettos..." His breath came in a gasp, and Jennifer hastened to lower the volume on her phone.

"Dammit, that was LOUD," she hissed. Sighing, she ducked into an empty conference room and continued, smiling evilly. "But, baby, are you almost there? Is my voice helping you get harder? Are you feeling my hand around your shaft, or maybe my mouth?"

"Jesus, Jen," Richie gritted out.

"You started it, baby, now finish it. Let me hear you. C'mon, baby, groan for me."

"Damn, darlin'...oh hell....fuck...Jennnn...." He finished on a long, low groan as he came. "Sweet hell..."

"That's it, baby," Jennifer crooned, then jumped when someone knocked on the door.

"You alright, Jen?" Paul, her new manager asked. "You're awfully red."

"I'm fine," Jennifer said, even as she heard Richie's laughter. She spoke into the receiver. "Clean up, I'll see you later. Love you, bye."

Richie chuckled at her, and at himself. He didn't know why this was getting to him so much. Sure, it was sexy stuff, and very erotic, but it was directed at him and Jennifer, and he knew Sam did that on purpose, and that made it much easier to picture the two of them in that scenario. He looked at the board again, refreshing his screen, and read the next "installment" of the little story. Holy shit.



Goddess’ Note: The substory in this and the next chapter are from the Fiction Mistress. She wrote them during the T’s Place Interactive Fan Fic adventure, and incorporated it into one of her own stories.