Author’s notes: When Aaron refers to Pamela as darling, the g is silent. It was difficult to select a category for this story. There are elements of Romance, D/s, hints of Non-Consent Reluctance. In order to submit, I had to choose one.
TIGRESS TO KITTY
By Beagle9690
September 2009
As I sit here reading her laptop diary, my submissive lover has been standing in the corner for almost an hour. Pamela's buttocks are freshly spanked because I caught her masturbating in the bathtub without permission. She has five minutes left in the corner and then she will finish getting ready for dinner.
Pamela is a store manager with a large grocery chain and is 10 years my senior, having just turned forty today. I am an independent painting contractor and sometimes jack-of-all-trades preferring to do residential houses or small businesses and I always work alone.
"May I come out of the corner now, Master?" she asked, meekly. "I'm sorry for disobeying a mandate and I promise to be a good girl."
From the beginning Pamela wanted to address me as Master. However, Master seems so trite and overused and I am not into titles. Persistent, my beautiful Pamela wore me down and we compromised; a very minor concession on my part. Master in private and Sir when in public with both being contingent and proper for the situation. Sir is a title of respect and is good for all occasions, including when we are out in public, and for Pamela it holds a special meaning. When we were first together it was a little awkward for Pamela, she being chronologically older than I, although not at all in appearance.
After a year’s time, Master still flows easily and lovingly from her luscious, generous lips and it seems that Pam just can't get enough kisses from me. Not that I find this annoying, I rather enjoy her intimate kisses and touches as well as her total obedience in our private life. Master has become a term of endearment for her towards me; like honey or sweetheart. I do not interfere with Pamela's career or the day-to-day operations of the store except on occasion to remind her of her submission. When I correct her in public it is nothing overt or obvious. Pamela is certainly aware of it and hates when I correct her that way. Although on some level she enjoys it, hence her submission to me. As well as the hot loving making afterwards when she returns from work.
The people working under her have benefited from our relationship. Especially since the employees' July weekend hotdog fundraisers held outside the store for their annual Christmas party. In the past Pamela always delegated this task to one of her Assistant Managers.
At the last one I worked side-by-side with Pamela selling hotdogs, soda and chips, a gesture of good will by management on her part. Several people working there told me privately that they never saw her so relaxed or happy and to keep up the good work. Pamela had the reputation for being overbearing, a bit of a shrew when angry.... the Ice Queen. After she hired me to paint the inside and outside of her house I would have concurred, at first.
"You may, but first come here," I ordered, putting the laptop to one side. She rushed over and knelt by the easy chair I was sitting in. "You know better than that, little girl!" I sternly admonished.
"Yes Master, I know better, I'm sorry?"
"If I catch you masturbating again without my permission your hair will be in pigtails at work for an entire week, Ms. Rogers, Executive Manager.
"Please Aaron, I hate when you do that to me; people won't take me seriously."
“Nevertheless you have me now and I will take care of those needs and desires.” I then buried my hands in her damp hair and kissed her luscious lips.
I stood up and stretched. "I don't care where we go for dinner tonight as long as I can get a big rare charbroiled steak.”
I don't drink at all because it dulls the senses. Pamela will have one glass of red or white wine with dinner on special occasions, which is fine with me.
“May I suck on your cock?” she asked, putting her head on my lap.
I touched her beautiful face and caressed it lightly with my hand. “You may, my love, my naughty Lady…after another hour in the corner.”
“Aaron!” she exclaimed, lifting her head to look at me.
“I’m teasing, darling. You know you are never punished without good reason. Have I ever abused you?”
“No Master, you have always have kept your word to me about everything. I’ve never had to use my safe word except once, which I regret,” she said, touching her sore bottom and wincing. “And I never shall again because I know that you love me.” And she put her head back on my lap. “But the spanking stung and now I’m so horny…. after all, I am your cock slave.”
“You love titles, darling, Master and slave; for me it is enough that you are my submissive lover. I have always contended that your imagination and intellect complements you, Pamela, my love. We have our little compromises because you always keep your word as well…aside from some minor naughty behaviors.” I wrapped my hands in her long damp hair, tugging. “Start with your tongue, slave, and look in my eyes when you are licking.”
I slid my boxer shorts off and got comfortable in the chair. "Yes that's right. Lick the entire shaft... Marvelous. Take your little tongue and lick the entire circumference of the tip. Very good, that feels wonderful. Start sucking, good.... yes... ah, yes, you are doing fine.
You have such beautiful eyes darling, such beautiful eyes…"
I exploded in her mouth and my orgasm was incredible and so was Pamela, who swallowed every bit of my come and licked me clean, giving my stomach a playful raspberry when she finished. Pamela truly is a cock slave and I have never met a woman like her who enjoyed giving head as much as she does, the only time that I allow her to masturbate. I got out of my chair and helped her to her feet, gave her an affectionate hug and said, "I have laid out your clothing for you and I want to see lots of curls in your hair. If you are extra good I may let you go down on me again when we get back and perhaps allow you an orgasm later this evening...now scoot!" I gave her ass a little slap for good measure and sent her on her way.
How did I meet Pamela? We have been together for a little more than a year. Let me go back to page one of her laptop diary and then between the two of us our story will unfold:
"Good morning, this is Aaron Bronson. How may I help you?"
"Good morning Mr. Bronson, my name is Pamela Rogers and I'm calling to get an estimate to have my house painted. You come highly recommended which is good because I am very particular about my home."
"Yes, Ma'am, what time would be convenient for you?"
"I'm calling from work at Deluxe Foods on Woodcrest Avenue. I am the Executive Manager there." Pamela let the title hang in the air before continuing. "Please drop your resume off at my office no later than 8:00 a.m. for me to look over. I will meet you at my home at 6:00 PM sharp."
"Ms. Rogers, I... Pamela interrupted and gave me her home address and then dismissed me with a curt “good day.”
I was thinking, "Is this woman for real, a resume?"
I arrived early to look the house over, a large Victorian at the top of a hill. I was waiting in her driveway when she arrived. As she got out of her red Mercedes with her briefcase, Pamela was frowning and looked angry.
I sighed and then went over to introduce myself holding out my hand for her to shake, which she declined, saying, "Mr. Bronson, we agreed that you would drop your resume off for me to read."
"No, Ms. Rogers, I did not agree to that at all. You assumed that I would bring you one and you cut me off before I had the chance to tell you my work is my resume."
"I don't like your tone, Aaron; do you talk to all of your employers this way?" she announced, glaring at me.
"As I recall, Pamela, you called me," I replied firmly and I was thinking, what beautiful eyes she has, like a cat or a tiger. “I am not one of your.... what's the politically correct word for subordinates these days... oh yes, associates. I am not one of them.”
"Are you intimidated by strong women, Mr. Bronson? That would explain your attitude," she asked, taking a step forward in challenge.
"Do you mean strong women like Wonder Woman and her Lasso of Truth?" I said, stepping forward until we were almost nose to nose. I was looking into those beautiful eyes and smiling at her and I wanted to kiss her pursed lips.
"No! Why would you ask such a stupid question? Are you that obtuse?" she asked angrily.
I took off my white painters cap and ran my fingers through my hair before putting it back on and answering, "That's a shame, darling, because you didn't put your Mercedes in park and it is rolling backwards down your driveway. A golden lasso would be handy right about now."
Pamela's Mercedes rolled halfway down the driveway ending up against the thick stands of pines and ground ivy planted on the hillside by previous owners to prevent soil erosion.
"Well don't just stand there!" she exclaimed, dropping her briefcase and running down the hill after her car, and quite gracefully at that.
Not saying a word I got in my truck and drove past her and then parked in front of her Mercedes. Fortunately for her I had an electric wench mounted below the brush guard on my truck and I was able to pull the Mercedes out with little trouble. Pamela walked over to my truck as I was getting ready to leave and I rolled the window down.
"I owe you an apology, Mr. Bronson." I just smiled at her not saying a thing. I was undressing her with my eyes and Pamela knew it. "I want to thank you for pulling me out of the ditch.” I remained silent, letting her squirm and still wanting to kiss her. "I'm sure that you will agree that it was a miscommunication between the two of us."
I got out of my truck, closed the door and said, “To the contrary, I do not agree. We both know where we stand and you are welcome."
"Are you always this difficult... so hard to handle, Mr. Bronson?" Pamela said, smiling for the first time, and I definitely wanted to kiss her then.
"Always, and no I am not intimidated by strong women especially pretty ones that smile so nicely. Frankly Ma'am I don't believe that you can handle me."
"Then I'll take that as a challenge, Sir," she replied, extending her hand for me to shake and I took it. Pamela had a firm, strong handshake, excellent, and now she was checking me out. She was squeezing firmly and I could tell that she was quite strong and was holding back….interesting. The tigress had pulled back her claws.
"And you are quite cocky for such a young man. My best guess is that you are not much more then twenty-five? Will you please give me an estimate now that we are properly introduced and I insist on paying for the tow?"
"Yes for the estimate, and no for the tow."
"I insist. May we at least negotiate the tow, perhaps compromise, Aaron?"
"Well, perhaps there is something, a minor gratuity in consideration for the tow, Pamela."
"See! We can agree on something and I will return the favor."
"If you will show me the house I can get started and then you will have my answer at 8:00 a.m. sharp along with your written and detailed estimate..."
Pamela wrote:
I still see no harm in asking for a resume and I am sure that if he had one it would generate more business for him. At least he was presentable.... no, make that more than presentable. Clean white pants, white polo shirt, tucked in and a white painters cap, and he was wearing a black belt and black shoes; a very good first impression actually….he smells like peppermint. When he smiled, dimples, he has dimples in his cheeks and blue eyes, plus he is so tall, taller than me. His thick unruly hair is so blond. Nordic is the word, like a big strong Viking. He was undressing me with his eyes and they were like hot blue flames and he knew that I was aware of it, how bold of him.
Aaron could have been more reasonable and cooperative. On the other hand, when he pulled my car out he didn't laugh at me or rub my nose in it. Aside from being cocky and blunt he was more or less polite while he was checking me out…I wonder? How interesting, he wouldn't accept money for the tow but he must want something.... hmm?
TIGRESS TO KITTY
By Beagle9690
September 2009
As I sit here reading her laptop diary, my submissive lover has been standing in the corner for almost an hour. Pamela's buttocks are freshly spanked because I caught her masturbating in the bathtub without permission. She has five minutes left in the corner and then she will finish getting ready for dinner.
Pamela is a store manager with a large grocery chain and is 10 years my senior, having just turned forty today. I am an independent painting contractor and sometimes jack-of-all-trades preferring to do residential houses or small businesses and I always work alone.
"May I come out of the corner now, Master?" she asked, meekly. "I'm sorry for disobeying a mandate and I promise to be a good girl."
From the beginning Pamela wanted to address me as Master. However, Master seems so trite and overused and I am not into titles. Persistent, my beautiful Pamela wore me down and we compromised; a very minor concession on my part. Master in private and Sir when in public with both being contingent and proper for the situation. Sir is a title of respect and is good for all occasions, including when we are out in public, and for Pamela it holds a special meaning. When we were first together it was a little awkward for Pamela, she being chronologically older than I, although not at all in appearance.
After a year’s time, Master still flows easily and lovingly from her luscious, generous lips and it seems that Pam just can't get enough kisses from me. Not that I find this annoying, I rather enjoy her intimate kisses and touches as well as her total obedience in our private life. Master has become a term of endearment for her towards me; like honey or sweetheart. I do not interfere with Pamela's career or the day-to-day operations of the store except on occasion to remind her of her submission. When I correct her in public it is nothing overt or obvious. Pamela is certainly aware of it and hates when I correct her that way. Although on some level she enjoys it, hence her submission to me. As well as the hot loving making afterwards when she returns from work.
The people working under her have benefited from our relationship. Especially since the employees' July weekend hotdog fundraisers held outside the store for their annual Christmas party. In the past Pamela always delegated this task to one of her Assistant Managers.
At the last one I worked side-by-side with Pamela selling hotdogs, soda and chips, a gesture of good will by management on her part. Several people working there told me privately that they never saw her so relaxed or happy and to keep up the good work. Pamela had the reputation for being overbearing, a bit of a shrew when angry.... the Ice Queen. After she hired me to paint the inside and outside of her house I would have concurred, at first.
"You may, but first come here," I ordered, putting the laptop to one side. She rushed over and knelt by the easy chair I was sitting in. "You know better than that, little girl!" I sternly admonished.
"Yes Master, I know better, I'm sorry?"
"If I catch you masturbating again without my permission your hair will be in pigtails at work for an entire week, Ms. Rogers, Executive Manager.
"Please Aaron, I hate when you do that to me; people won't take me seriously."
“Nevertheless you have me now and I will take care of those needs and desires.” I then buried my hands in her damp hair and kissed her luscious lips.
I stood up and stretched. "I don't care where we go for dinner tonight as long as I can get a big rare charbroiled steak.”
I don't drink at all because it dulls the senses. Pamela will have one glass of red or white wine with dinner on special occasions, which is fine with me.
“May I suck on your cock?” she asked, putting her head on my lap.
I touched her beautiful face and caressed it lightly with my hand. “You may, my love, my naughty Lady…after another hour in the corner.”
“Aaron!” she exclaimed, lifting her head to look at me.
“I’m teasing, darling. You know you are never punished without good reason. Have I ever abused you?”
“No Master, you have always have kept your word to me about everything. I’ve never had to use my safe word except once, which I regret,” she said, touching her sore bottom and wincing. “And I never shall again because I know that you love me.” And she put her head back on my lap. “But the spanking stung and now I’m so horny…. after all, I am your cock slave.”
“You love titles, darling, Master and slave; for me it is enough that you are my submissive lover. I have always contended that your imagination and intellect complements you, Pamela, my love. We have our little compromises because you always keep your word as well…aside from some minor naughty behaviors.” I wrapped my hands in her long damp hair, tugging. “Start with your tongue, slave, and look in my eyes when you are licking.”
I slid my boxer shorts off and got comfortable in the chair. "Yes that's right. Lick the entire shaft... Marvelous. Take your little tongue and lick the entire circumference of the tip. Very good, that feels wonderful. Start sucking, good.... yes... ah, yes, you are doing fine.
You have such beautiful eyes darling, such beautiful eyes…"
I exploded in her mouth and my orgasm was incredible and so was Pamela, who swallowed every bit of my come and licked me clean, giving my stomach a playful raspberry when she finished. Pamela truly is a cock slave and I have never met a woman like her who enjoyed giving head as much as she does, the only time that I allow her to masturbate. I got out of my chair and helped her to her feet, gave her an affectionate hug and said, "I have laid out your clothing for you and I want to see lots of curls in your hair. If you are extra good I may let you go down on me again when we get back and perhaps allow you an orgasm later this evening...now scoot!" I gave her ass a little slap for good measure and sent her on her way.
How did I meet Pamela? We have been together for a little more than a year. Let me go back to page one of her laptop diary and then between the two of us our story will unfold:
"Good morning, this is Aaron Bronson. How may I help you?"
"Good morning Mr. Bronson, my name is Pamela Rogers and I'm calling to get an estimate to have my house painted. You come highly recommended which is good because I am very particular about my home."
"Yes, Ma'am, what time would be convenient for you?"
"I'm calling from work at Deluxe Foods on Woodcrest Avenue. I am the Executive Manager there." Pamela let the title hang in the air before continuing. "Please drop your resume off at my office no later than 8:00 a.m. for me to look over. I will meet you at my home at 6:00 PM sharp."
"Ms. Rogers, I... Pamela interrupted and gave me her home address and then dismissed me with a curt “good day.”
I was thinking, "Is this woman for real, a resume?"
I arrived early to look the house over, a large Victorian at the top of a hill. I was waiting in her driveway when she arrived. As she got out of her red Mercedes with her briefcase, Pamela was frowning and looked angry.
I sighed and then went over to introduce myself holding out my hand for her to shake, which she declined, saying, "Mr. Bronson, we agreed that you would drop your resume off for me to read."
"No, Ms. Rogers, I did not agree to that at all. You assumed that I would bring you one and you cut me off before I had the chance to tell you my work is my resume."
"I don't like your tone, Aaron; do you talk to all of your employers this way?" she announced, glaring at me.
"As I recall, Pamela, you called me," I replied firmly and I was thinking, what beautiful eyes she has, like a cat or a tiger. “I am not one of your.... what's the politically correct word for subordinates these days... oh yes, associates. I am not one of them.”
"Are you intimidated by strong women, Mr. Bronson? That would explain your attitude," she asked, taking a step forward in challenge.
"Do you mean strong women like Wonder Woman and her Lasso of Truth?" I said, stepping forward until we were almost nose to nose. I was looking into those beautiful eyes and smiling at her and I wanted to kiss her pursed lips.
"No! Why would you ask such a stupid question? Are you that obtuse?" she asked angrily.
I took off my white painters cap and ran my fingers through my hair before putting it back on and answering, "That's a shame, darling, because you didn't put your Mercedes in park and it is rolling backwards down your driveway. A golden lasso would be handy right about now."
Pamela's Mercedes rolled halfway down the driveway ending up against the thick stands of pines and ground ivy planted on the hillside by previous owners to prevent soil erosion.
"Well don't just stand there!" she exclaimed, dropping her briefcase and running down the hill after her car, and quite gracefully at that.
Not saying a word I got in my truck and drove past her and then parked in front of her Mercedes. Fortunately for her I had an electric wench mounted below the brush guard on my truck and I was able to pull the Mercedes out with little trouble. Pamela walked over to my truck as I was getting ready to leave and I rolled the window down.
"I owe you an apology, Mr. Bronson." I just smiled at her not saying a thing. I was undressing her with my eyes and Pamela knew it. "I want to thank you for pulling me out of the ditch.” I remained silent, letting her squirm and still wanting to kiss her. "I'm sure that you will agree that it was a miscommunication between the two of us."
I got out of my truck, closed the door and said, “To the contrary, I do not agree. We both know where we stand and you are welcome."
"Are you always this difficult... so hard to handle, Mr. Bronson?" Pamela said, smiling for the first time, and I definitely wanted to kiss her then.
"Always, and no I am not intimidated by strong women especially pretty ones that smile so nicely. Frankly Ma'am I don't believe that you can handle me."
"Then I'll take that as a challenge, Sir," she replied, extending her hand for me to shake and I took it. Pamela had a firm, strong handshake, excellent, and now she was checking me out. She was squeezing firmly and I could tell that she was quite strong and was holding back….interesting. The tigress had pulled back her claws.
"And you are quite cocky for such a young man. My best guess is that you are not much more then twenty-five? Will you please give me an estimate now that we are properly introduced and I insist on paying for the tow?"
"Yes for the estimate, and no for the tow."
"I insist. May we at least negotiate the tow, perhaps compromise, Aaron?"
"Well, perhaps there is something, a minor gratuity in consideration for the tow, Pamela."
"See! We can agree on something and I will return the favor."
"If you will show me the house I can get started and then you will have my answer at 8:00 a.m. sharp along with your written and detailed estimate..."
Pamela wrote:
I still see no harm in asking for a resume and I am sure that if he had one it would generate more business for him. At least he was presentable.... no, make that more than presentable. Clean white pants, white polo shirt, tucked in and a white painters cap, and he was wearing a black belt and black shoes; a very good first impression actually….he smells like peppermint. When he smiled, dimples, he has dimples in his cheeks and blue eyes, plus he is so tall, taller than me. His thick unruly hair is so blond. Nordic is the word, like a big strong Viking. He was undressing me with his eyes and they were like hot blue flames and he knew that I was aware of it, how bold of him.
Aaron could have been more reasonable and cooperative. On the other hand, when he pulled my car out he didn't laugh at me or rub my nose in it. Aside from being cocky and blunt he was more or less polite while he was checking me out…I wonder? How interesting, he wouldn't accept money for the tow but he must want something.... hmm?
