Typing industriously away in my upstairs office, I heard the key in the door, the door open and shut and the sound, faint but recognisable, of clothes being removed. I looked at my watch; she was late. Having, for once, been on my own since breakfast, Jim Junior began to rise. I finished the sentence I was working on and saved my work then, as almost an afterthought, closed the computer down. I rather thought I would not be needing it for the rest of the evening. I removed the shorts which were all I was wearing and padded downstairs to the kitchen. My slave, quite naked herself, was already working on a pile of vegetables at the table. As I entered, she looked at me, seeing my arousal, stood and bent over the table presenting her clearly wet pussy to my gaze.
"You're late," I said, allowing more than a hint of displeasure to colour my voice.
"Yes, Master. Your slave begs your forgiveness."
"Why are you late, Slave?" I would never have thought, a few months previously, that I would enjoy a situation like this (if enjoy is quite the right word). I knew what I wanted and intended and I was hard with that knowing.
"I'm sorry, Master," she sounded genuinely penitent; part of my mind thought she was getting good at sounding penitent, "I called in at the convenience store for some garlic and oregano."
"Were you told to do that, Slave?"
"Did you say we needed more garlic and oregano before you left this morning?"
"No, Master." By this point there was a definite hint of tears in her voice.
"Did you make any effort to let Sam or me know what you were doing?"
"No, Master," with a sob at the end.
"Well ... I am not pleased. What do you think Sam would want me to do?"
"She would punish me, Master. A stroke for every minute late."
"Yes. That would be ten strokes, would it not?"
"Yes, Master. As you say. I was not sure of the time, but I knew I was late."
"Well ... I do not enjoy punishing you. Perhaps I ought to leave that to Sam when she gets home."
She shivered, knowing our daughter would be much harder on her than I.
"Very well, Slave. As your transgression was actually for our benefit, thoughtless, rather than deliberate disobedience, I award you five strokes."
"Thank you, Master. You are kind."
I reached behind the door for the paddle left there for the purpose. I suspected Sam would have reached for a cane ... and awarded a full ten strokes.
She counted, as she'd been taught to do, thanking me for each stroke. As I finished, she said, "Thank you, Master, for reminding me of my place."
I reached round and cupped her tit. Not large, it filled my hand nicely. Her nipple was rock hard. Her pussy was positively dripping as I stepped behind and thrust into her. Fully embedded, I just enjoyed the sensation of being enfolded and cupped a tit in each hand. Her nipples almost bored into my palms. I shook my head, knowing she couldn't see. How could she take pleasure in what we were doing to her? I began to thrust, but slowly, wanting to extend the pleasure. I didn't think she warranted an injection of sperm, either, but she was working her Kegel muscles trying to get one.
I was getting near to the point where I would have to decide what to do with my impending ejaculation, when I heard the front door again, which solved my quandary.
Samantha, my daughter, walked into the kitchen, quite as naked as we. "Hey! Save some for me!"
I pulled out with an audible slurp.
"She's just keeping it warm for you," I said.
Our slave fell to her knees. "You'd better get on with supper," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she moved immediately back to the table and her preparation of the vegetables.
"I see our Slave has been naughty," Sam commented, noticing the red backside.
"She was a little late," I said, "and neglected to say we needed a couple of items for our evening meal. She has been punished."
"Knowing you, not enough," she grumped, "and won't that be getting cold?" she nodded at my erection, which had subsided slightly.
I pulled a chair round and sat down. Sam, facing me, straddled me, my erection returning full force, and impaled herself on me. This time, it was Sam who sighed with satisfaction and didn't move for a few minutes, except to wriggle a little as I fondled her breasts.
I watched our slave, Janine. Her expression was odd. I might in other circumstances have described it as satisfied. Why would that be? I was sure she hadn't come while I was in her.
Sam began to move, rocking gently on me, her eyes closed, and expression of pure pleasure on her pretty face. She shivered with her first small climax. I held on, but couldn't hold out for long and happily she enjoyed another as I gave up the struggle. She leaned against me, holding me as I slowly shrank inside her. She, too, worked her pelvic floor muscles and helped to sustain my erection long after it ought to have gone completely. Indeed, by the time we heard the door again, I was almost ready to go again.
A third naked woman entered the kitchen, a contrast to the the other two. Daughter and Slave were slim, medium height, with dark straight hair, blue eyes and tanned skin. Slave had stretch-marks on her belly and slightly sagging breasts, but otherwise the two were much alike. The newcomer, Lydia, was shorter, almost plump, with larger breasts, bright red hair and very pale skin apart from a sprinkling of freckles, and green eyes.
"Humph! Anything left for me?"
"Just keeping it warm for you," Sam said, standing ... a white trickle down her leg showing that her statement was not entirely true.
Lydia looked at me. "I see there's something left," she said, "I'll let you off this time." She cocked her head at me and I followed her out of the kitchen and upstairs toward the main bedroom. As we reached the landing, she took my semi-erect cock in her hand and used it to pull me into the bedroom. I smiled a little ruefully, not for the first time, about being 'led around by my cock'.
We reached the bed and she turned and pulled me to her to kiss, her breasts pressing against my chest ... it was ... very enjoyable.
"Well?" She spoke as we broke apart; I was panting somewhat, "Have you got anything left for me?"
"Always," I smiled, "though it might take a few minutes. In the meantime..." I pushed her backwards onto the bed. She didn't resist as I parted her legs and began to lick her. I've always enjoyed cunnilingus and made the most of her taste. It didn't take long before she was shuddering in the throes of a pretty good orgasm and by that time I was ready to go again. I lifted her fully onto the bed and entered her before lowering my lips to her nipples. I soon had her groaning and writhing again. When I came, I rolled off her and she snuggled against me, reaching down to hold my cock as I fondled her breast.
"You know," she said quietly, "I think this is what I miss most. I mean, apart from the orgasms, and I've had more with you over the last months than in all the time Ben and I were married. I miss having a warm, loving body to snuggle with."
"Have you spoken to Sam about it?" I paused, then, "It's a big bed. I don't see why we can't fit three in. I'm not sure how that would work as I've only got one cock, but..."
"Ah, but as I know very well, you've got a great tongue," she giggled. "Okay, I'll talk it over with Sam, but I don't want to tread on her territory. I'm grateful enough for what I'm getting at the moment."
We dozed happily for an hour or so until Sam called us to say dinner was ready. From time to time, and this was one of them, I would have a sort of dizzy sensation, wondering how I'd arrived at the place I was in. Just imagine, sitting naked at the dinner-table to eat, two very attractive woman, also nude, sitting there with me, 'Slave' kneeling by my chair on a small cushion (at my insistence, Sam wanted her kneeling on the tiled floor) to be fed from a dish next to me, her hands behind her back. I said grace, a habit of mine and a bone of contention almost from the moment of marriage, and we began to eat. I was a little slow; I alternated my own mouthfuls with a forkful for Slave and also I was distracted even after several months of the same routine, by three very attractive pairs of breasts.
"Really!" My daughter said haughtily, "don't you get tired of staring at tits?"
"No," I said honestly, "not when they're as nice as the ones at this table, anyway, and I hope I never will."
"So do I," she smiled. "Only kidding, as you know very well."
"Indeed. And I know you like being looked at as much as I like looking." I put the fork down and cupped Slave's breast, "not to mention touching." I pinched the nipple and a quiver ran through her body before I picked up the fork again and went back to feeding myself and her.
"Sam," Lydia said, "could we go for a bit of a chat? Jim's going to be a while longer and I've something to ask..."
"Sure thing," Sam rose, followed by Lydia, and they left the room.
I looked down at Slave, whose eyes were properly down. She was very lovely, I thought. I finished feeding us and as I sat there, sipping tea, I reached down again to cup her breast. She sighed and pushed against my hand.
"Master, I..." she trailed off.
.... There is more of this story ...