Only one rule was in effect. She was not allowed to mark him, not allowed to leave any trace but his aches and pains. No touch of the whip, no cane or...pins, no mark to ever betray his deviant need.That was what being married meant to a man who longed to be totally under the control of a professional Mistress! What a Mistress! A woman who knew just how far to push him, to make him her slave, obedient to her will. Twenty stones of femininity who could crush the defiance from him and make him. I wasdumfounded when she fell to her knees in front of meand unzipped my pants, taking my cock out and slowlylicking the head until it started to stiffen. She thensucked it into her mouth like a vacuum and made loudslurping noises while coating it with her hot salivaand smearing her lipstick all over it. While she wassucking my cock I took the bottle of wine out of thebag and unscrewed the cap. By this time she had pulled my pants down to myankles, and after removing my shoes she took. "Why stop there." I heard from behind me. He had a mirror on the wall over his entertainment center that he was watching me from. I blushed a little.What the hell, I finished taking off my blouse. I could here him whistle a little as he poured his drink. "What about your skirt, you are hot as shit." I just pulled my skirt off then. I sat there with my hands on my lap in only my black French cut panties and my black bra. My nipples where already erect and poking through the lace material from. After a short conversation trying to figure out what caused such behavior my husband excused himself to get something to cheer my up, such a thing much needed as I felt terrible I might of done something wrong. It was about a half hour later when he returned with a bottle of wine in his hand. That was no surprise but the beautiful raven haired beauty in his other hand broadened my eyes. Long haired and lean, a reminder of my pre k**s years (not that I’m all that bad now.) She made a beeline to.