After Jeopardy, you duck into a guest bedroom with a giggling Dr. Carte. She might be a little worse for the wear between the cast on her foot and the drunkenness, but she's as hot for your cock as she ever was, and she wants you to know it. She showers you with loving kisses and you hungrily return them: you taste her lips, her face, and her neck. She has the same flavor she always did, the flavor of a desperate and degenerate older woman. You get her coat and her shirt off; she gets your pants off. Her bare tits are so nice and warm, big and soft, in your groping palms. Your hardening dick feels just great in her practiced grip. In summary, things are going about the way they usually go between you and her. But then amidst your searching kisses, Dr. Carte sits down on the edge of the bed. When you try to nudge her backwards and climb on top of her, she instead pushes you back. Then in the moment of your surprise, she grabs a handful of your tee's fabric with a strong fist. She yanks, surprising you a second time, and the force of it makes you stoop your spine enough for her to get her hand on top of your head. She forces you the rest of the way down, then, under gravity's assistance. All of a sudden you're on your knees in front of her.
"What the hell--" you start.
"You lost on Jeopardy. That makes you my slave, remember?"
"Har har. Very funny." You begin to stand, but she presses firmly down on your shoulders with both hands.
"I'm not joking."
Your wife only wishes she could scare you the way Dr. Carte just has with those three simple words. Your heart actually stops for a brief moment.
"But you..." you say. "Dr. Carte, this is--"
She laughs derisively. "That's Mistress to you, slave." As she says this, she parts her meaty thighs which are still tightly confined in the fabric of her trousers. Her bare torso shimmers with sweat, so much that you can see the trickle of it from underneath her udders. She rubs one of them sensually, playing with her own nipple, grinning down at you. Her waistband is biting into her skin, accentuating that plump hourglass shape, just barely on the right side of overweight, that turns you on despite yourself. From this close, with your head almost nestled in her lap, you can smell her, her unique womanly scent. You can smell it radiating out even from behind the inseam of her pants and her underwear. She must be so wet right now that she can barely stand it. No wonder she's acting so crazy. It melds with the earthy, slightly sour scent of her perspiration, creating a pheromone laden bouquet which instantly shuts off the part of your brain that wants to protest this treatment. You lay your palms on either one of her legs, enjoying how soft she is, staring up at the way she lewdly rubs her flattened hand in circles around her nipples. Dr. Carte has extraordinarily sensitive breasts, you know, and she could probably make herself cum just like that; by masturbating with her nipples. Even now her lower lip is quavering with her own onanistic pleasure.
"Unbutton me," she orders you.
You do as she tells you. With shaky hands you unbutton her trousers. It's hard, with as wide as she has her legs spread, to get even so much as your fingers into the taut waistband. When you pop the button free, Dr. Carte spreads her legs even wider still, and this motion forces the zipper of her pants down all on its own. Behind the fly is the bulging mound of Dr. Carte's cunt, hardly concealed at all by panties so sodden with need that they've become translucent. The white cotton is more like a window than anything; through it, you can can clearly see every detail of her pussy. The fat out-turned lips, the thin strip of hair above, the pulsating clit peeking out from its hood. Her tight little fuckhole, and the perinium below it. And you can feel the heat of her, too, like sitting in front of a firepit. It wafts over you and makes you halfway dizzy.
She gives her mound a wet slap that send a few droplets splashing onto your face. You flinch. "You, Alabaster, are a slave to this hole tonight. You're going to please it, and make it cum, until I'm satisfied. Or I'll be forced to punish you."
You don't respond -- you're too busy staring transfixed at that lewd pussy you've just been consigned into slavery for.
"Tell me 'yes, mistress'" she demands.
"Yes mistress," you say with a flat voice.
"Hmmm~" she laughs, pleased at your docile reply. "Do you want to put your mouth against it?" She asks.
You lean in to do so, but she stops you by pressing her thighs into your cheeks. It puckers your lips and the skin around your eyes, forcing you to make a fishy face, and it feels utterly humiliating.
"I didn't give you permission to put your disgusting face against my body," she sneers.
You gaze up, your expression still contorted, waiting for what comes next.
"Ask your mistress nicely for what you want, slave. I *might* be nice if you can manage that."
"Prease cwan I puh mu fashe againsht your crosh mishtresh," you manage through the pressure of her legs squeezing you on both sides.
She lets her iron grip on you loosen. "Good slave." She makes you wait for excruciating moments, during which you can feel your hard cock throbbing painfully, before finally saying: "Go ahead."
You immediately bow your head forward and bury your mouth and nose against her crotch.
"Say thank you to your mistress," she tells you.
"Thank you mistress," you reply, inhaling deeply, and seeing stars.
"Kiss my hole," she grunts.
You kiss her pussy through her underwear. Not just once, but again and again. You dart your tongue out and try to penetrate her with it despite the stubborn barrier of that damp garment blocking your access. The taste of her juice is tart but sweet, and so gratifying. You can't help moaning.
"You are desperate, huh?" Dr. Carte says. You nod between your little kisses and licks. "That's okay," she adds, and gently strokes your cheek, "your mistress is a bit desperate, too..."
She lifts her butt off the mattress, just enough to pull her pants down, and now her soaking underwear is fully on view. "See?" She coos.
"I need to fuck you," you groan, squirming in place like an impatient kindergartner, pawing at her silky smooth legs to keep them apart for you to feast your eyes on the treasure between them.
"Dirty boy~" She chides. "What makes you think I would let you put your dirty slave cock inside my pussy and mess it up?"
"Please," you beg.
"What makes you think I would let you squirt your raw cock inside me like the *pathetic* animal you are? What makes you think you deserve such a privilege?"
"Please," you repeat. "I'll do anything. I need to fuck you."
With a sharply arched bare foot, Dr. Carte presses the hardness of your cock against your belly, the way a person might crush an insect. She grinds the sensitive underside with the ball. You stifle a moan. "Admit that I own you, and I might let you get your dick wet for a couple seconds."
"You -- own me--" you admit.
"Admit that MY pussy is the best..."
"It's the best. Of course it's the best. I -- god, fuck, just let me fuck you, please!"
"Awww," Dr. Carte says. "You're so cute when you're needy."
She scooches back and rests against the bed's headboard. Arms wide and elbows locked, she beckons you with both hands.
"Come on, slave. Fuck your mistress. Fuck her hard."
You get up on the bed and crawl forward towards her like a man under a hypnotist's spell. In a sense, that's what you are. You're 100% under the spell of Dr. Carte's mature pussy. You would do anything at all for the chance to get off inside it.
She hooks a thumb through one leg of her panties and tugs it aside, baring her hole to you. What a beautiful hole it is. So tender and warm, and so drippy and pink. Who wouldn't want to be its slave?
Panting like the animal she says you are, you steady your jerking cock with one hand and find the rubbery entrance at the bottom of her vulva. Her so-superior play-acting falters for just a second when you plunge yourself into her. She throws her head back and gasps at the intrusion. Your coke-can dick is impossible to get truly accustomed to. The best that most women can do is just grit their teeth and bear that initial flash of pain, like Dr. Carte does. When she meets your eyes again, they're dewy, and swimming in pleasure.
"You... have a very nice dick," Dr. Carte sighs, unable to come up with anything more than that simple praise. You prop yourself on your elbows and begin to fuck in earnest. Doctor's orders. Your efforts make the bed creak and shake and jiggle. Dr. Carte, too. She's jiggly all over. Her tits and belly undulate like the ocean. When she speaks, her teeth are clattering and her voice is shaky. "Th-that's it -- that's it -- dirty, dirty boy. Make your mistress's cunt all dirty with your dirty dick..."
You wouldn't be able to do anything else. Your horny dick controls you completely right now. All you can do is thrust and fuck atop her. The sweet relief of her cunt's interior soothes the raging ache in your boner, but only as long as you keep rutting. If you slow down for even a microsecond, the ache returns, and worse than before. You have to keep fucking her, just as hard and fast as you can, or you'll go mad with need and frustration.
Dr. Carte pets you. She touches her sweat-streaked cheek to yours. "God, you make my pussy feel so good... keep fucking me just like that..."
"I'm gonna cum," you groan, eyes clenched shut.
"No you aren't," Dr. Carte says, voice soft, but firm and commanding. "Don't you dare stain your mistress's cunt without her permission."
"Please--" you beg.
"No."
You whinny.
"You don't get to cum," Dr. Carte says, stroking your face, "until you make my hole cum first. I told you, Alabaster. You're a slave to my hole tonight. You don't get your reward... until you please me enough... then and only then... I'll *think* about letting you drop a load inside me."
You bow your head in sheer frustration, but Dr. Carte will not relent. She clasps your face with both hands, and forces you to kiss her. You taste the menthol-and-whisky flavor of her mouth, and bask in the heat of it. You pound her horny, motherly pussy out, trying your best to get her off. The precum is coursing out of your cockshaft like a broken faucet, and you know you're going to jizz soon whether you've got her say-so or not. You're frightened, legitimately so, of what she might do if you orgasm without permission. And so you do your best to get her off first. You fuck rhythmically, mashing your crotch against her clitoral hood, and you play with her sensitive tits to help her along. You want her to cum... no, you NEED her to cum... so that you can cum too. Yes, you need your mistress to cum... she gets to cum first...
"You really are hot, huh?" Dr. Carte coos between wet kisses. "You really want to cum inside me, huh?"
"Yes -- yes--"
"Beg me for it."
"But--"
"Beg me for it!" She shouts. She jerks her body back and forth, torturing you with the silky soft clench of her sexy pussy. It makes your head go blank. You shudder. Of course you'll beg her for it, if that's what she wants.
"Please let me cum mistress please -- please, please, let me cum inside you, let my slave cock cum inside you--"
"Nasty boy," she spits. She takes one of her tits and presents it to you: "Suck me."
You obey. You wrap your greedy lips around her nipple and suck her. Your tongue swabs back and forth over the ridged nub and the fat areola. You can taste her sweat, the salty-sweetness of it. Your teeth accidentally scrape against her succulent skin, and she spasms beneath you.
"Okay -- okay, slave -- on the count of three, you have permission to get your mistress's cunt dirty with your spunk. Thank me for it..."
"Thank you mistress thank you--"
"One--"
You hammer her as hard and fast as you've ever hammered any girl before. She begins to shiver despite herself.
"Two..."
You can feel her girlcum running in streams out of her twat, and to the bedspread below. It coats your cockshaft entirely, getting it slick and sticky, as you mount the peak towards your ultimate, blessed relief.
She nuzzles her face against your head and giggles. "Two and a half..."
You growl in pain. "PLEASE -- fuck! --"
She pets you again, and finally: "Cum inside me, slave."
You bellow, and can't even find the composure to thank her again as you should. You just blow your nuts off inside her. Sweet, sweet, relief. You ejaculate a virtual geyser of gooey semen directly against the back walls of her womb. She shrieks, literally, her shrill voice ringing in your ears. Your cum seems to last an eternity, and then you collapse on top of her, still nursing her tits -- one, then the other.
She nudges you, and draws your flushed face up to look at her. Then, leaning forward, she rubs the tip of her nose against yours. A patented Dr. Renee D. Carte Eskimo kiss. You grin, broad and dopey; she laughs huskily. But then: "Why are you just lying there?"
"...What?"
"I'm not done with you yet, slave. Keep fucking your mistress."
It's going to be a long, long night.