She's the Boss - My New Collar

A Note to the Reader: although the following scenario is fictitious, it is based on real life. Once again, I must begin by thanking 'Aubrey' - my girlfriend, partner-in-crime and mistress - for allowing me to immortalise our wonderful relationship in this way.

*

As with most evenings, the traffic in London was proving to be a frightful pain. True, it was not exactly gridlocked, but the endless stream of cars was sufficient to reduce movement to a crawl; and from time to time, the driver of the bus on which I was sat would blare his horn loudly as he was cut off by one of the many cyclists who were weaving easily between the lanes. Thankfully, I had more than one reason to be distracted from the general chaos outside, and I found myself reaching instinctively for the silver chain around my neck as my thoughts turned to Aubrey, who I was due to meet in an hour or so.

Although our ongoing relationship had remained a secret from our colleagues at the office, several of Aubrey's 'girl-friends' were aware that she had become involved with a mysterious younger man, and I was told that tongues were beginning to wag as to the potential identity of her toy-boy. As expected, however, my Mistress was maintaining an impenetrable veil of secrecy, refusing to disclose any more than the most basic information about our antics, especially when pushed as to the extent of my prowess between the sheets.

Even so, the reputation of 'Mr. Big' - for such was the nickname that the girls had unknowingly bestowed on me - was causing something of a stir around the water-cooler, and Aubrey would often entertain me during late-shifts by filling me in on the latest gossip. Apparently, several of the young secretaries and interns had begun to speculate as to whether they might be able to persuade her to 'loan me out' for bachelorette parties and the like; naturally, I speculated that they imagined me to be some sort of toned, muscular demi-god straight out of an American 'frat house'-type film. I had a feeling that, if they ever discovered the truth, several of those girls would likely be sorely disappointed.

Obviously, I always did my best to voice such thoughts in good humour: the last thing I wanted was for Aubrey to think that I saw her as having settled for a 'second best' option. If there was one thing that I loved more than anything about her, it was the care that she took to never put such thoughts into my head; and her constant reminders that she looked upon me as the best thing that had happened to her in a long time. Unfortunately, I would occasionally take my self-deprecation too far - perhaps by saying that I didn't deserve to be with a woman like her - and that would force Aubrey to lay me across her knees at the earliest opportunity, and give me a few cautionary smacks with her paddle.

Tonight, however, nothing of the sort was going to happen: I was in far too good a mood to be speculating about what kind of man the naive young ladies in the typing pool suspected 'Mr. Big' to be. Nor was I concerned with how they might respond to the revelation that the strapping hunk of their fantasies was in fact only 5'6", corpulent, and afflicted by early signs of male pattern baldness. No, my focus was entirely devoted to the woman who had become as central to my existence as the Seven Sacraments had once been; before three fatal years at university which had all but severed my spiritual bond with the Church. To paraphrase Heath Ledger in 'A Knight's Tale,' I had taken to saying my Rosary to Mistress Aubrey and no-one else.

Even as the bus pulled into Grosvenor Gardens, my fingers were tracing the links of my silver chain in much the same way as they had once counted off the endless repeated sequence of the 'Our Father,' 'Hail Mary,' 'Glory Be' and 'Apostles' Creed.' I had fallen into a silent reverie, thinking back to that first night that Aubrey and I had declared our love for each other; and to the following morning, when I had passed her my Claddagh Ring at the breakfast table. As she had placed it back upon my right hand, the heart now pointing inwards, I had pledged my devotion to her, and declared that - regardless of what I might 'get up to' with other ladies - my 'first time' would be with her alone.

That was another reason why we were being so careful to conceal our relationship from the prying eyes of the office. Though the world was becoming more accepting with respect to 'alternative' sexual practices and 'alternative' relationship dynamics, we both felt that our colleagues might still harbour suspicions as to the true nature of an 'open' relationship. Would they truly understand that neither Aubrey nor I looked upon additional sexual partners as posing a threat to our own love and affection; or would they see it merely as an excuse for me to sleep around, and to indulge some strange perversion by encouraging Aubrey to 'scratch her itch'?

However, I was paying little heed to such thoughts tonight; instead, my head was filled with memories of Aubrey and I in various stages of passionate entanglement. As I hauled my duffle-bag off the bus's luggage rack and hoisted it over one shoulder, a particularly memorable vision flashed across my mind; the memory of when she had first emerged from the bathroom on that first night in Liverpool, swathed in that long black evening gown with the sequinned bodice. I could still remember how spell-bound I had been, and how she had advanced across the room, drawing me into a breathless embrace and pushing her heaving bosom against me.

As I recalled again the feeling of our lips meeting for the first time, my heart quivered in my chest and my crotch began to burn with lust. This situation was not helped by the fact that, no sooner was I out of the station, than I heard a very familiar voice calling my name from across the street. I stopped dead in my tracks. Aubrey had emerged that moment from Victoria Station - she had evidently travelled down by train - and her arrival was so precisely timed that you might have suspected that she had apparated. Moreover, she seemed oblivious that passers-by were staring at her, because she was grinning from ear to ear, jumping up and down, and waving at me like a maniac.

Finally, the lights at the crossing changed in my favour, and as the traffic ground to a halt amidst a cacophony of blaring horns, I half-staggered, half-ran across the road; dropping my duffle-bag as I threw myself into Aubrey's open arms. Not caring about the tide of humanity swirling around us, we locked ourselves in an embrace that almost crushed the breath out of our bodies, and exchanged the furious, passionate kiss that we had evidently both been anticipating for several hours. My hands were stroking Aubrey's back, caressing the length of her spine, while she had the fingers of one hand entwined in my hair, the other stroking the thick fur of my beard.

From the perspective of the onlookers, I suppose that it must have looked like the climactic scene of a cheesy romantic comedy: the moment when - having spent the entire preceding ninety minutes denying their feelings - the two leads are at last consumed by passion, and the film concludes with the camera panning around them and pulling away to reveal them standing in the midst of a vast crowd of cheering strangers. Not that anything of that sort was happening here; we were simply too overcome with emotion to pay any attention to the audience who we seemed to be attracting.

At last, we broke apart, the ferocity of the kiss having left both of us gasping for breath. A few of the crowd were still staring, and we glanced around at them, smiling nervously as we picked up our luggage and headed towards the Underground. As we linked arms and wandered down the street, we could hear several isolated whistles being directed at our retreating backs, together with a few whoops of encouragement; however, these soon faded as we turned into the station and disappeared from sight.

"Holy fuck!" I giggled to Aubrey, collapsing gratefully into one of the moulded aluminium chairs on the platform; "I think we gave that lot out there something to talk about. I've been waiting a long time for this..." I tailed off, content to just stare into my Mistress' beautiful brown eyes, feeling my heart start to melt again as she wrapped one of her strong arms around my shoulders and gave me a gentle squeeze. With a deep, contented sigh, I reached over the arm of the seat, placing my hand on top of her thigh, massaging the soft flesh through the fabric of her pinstripe suit-pants.

Aubrey smiled warmly. "Oh Leonard, you really do over-dramatise things, don't you? I've only been seconded to Head Office for a week. The way that you flung yourself at me just then, you'd think that we'd been apart for a year and a day!" Slowly, she rested her free hand on top of my own, encouraging me to move further up her thigh, until I could have stretched out my fingers and touched the fabric covering her crotch. However, it was clear that Mistress want to tease me, because she suddenly increased her pressure on my hand, and whispered "later baby. My little slave boy only gets to touch my pussy if he behaves himself."

Knowing just how close I was to Aubrey's most sensitive area, I let out a little whimper, and adopted instinctively the 'wounded puppy-dog' look that had led her to christen me 'Zeus the Chihuahua.' Seeing my expression, she began to pat my head and stroke my back, murmuring soothingly in my ear as leaned towards her, nuzzling against her shoulder. I felt so comfortable that I could sense myself starting to drift off to sleep, and I probably would have done had the train to Hammersmith not chosen that particular moment to rattle into the station, shattering the intimacy of the scene as the doors gilded open, disgorging a flood of noisy commuters.

Thankfully, however, so many of the passengers disembarked that it was not difficult for Aubrey and I to find an entire carriage to ourselves. Sitting opposite each other, we fell back into the old habit of gazing lovingly at each other, until a mischievous glint began to sparkle in her eyes, and she flashed me a cheeky grin. "Tell me Leonard," she muttered softly, almost as if speaking to herself, "can you feel how much this train is bouncing around?" I nodded my head vigorously, eager to see what my Mistress might have in mind, and watched as Aubrey heaved herself to her fee grasping the rail above her head for support.

"Just sit back and watch darling," she grinned, relaxing so that her weight was taken almost entirely by the bar. "I think that my naughty boy might enjoy seeing what this train is doing to Mistress' body." Of course, she'd read me like a book: as much as I'd been staring deep into Aubrey's beautiful dark eyes, I'd not failed to notice the manner in which ever full curve of her body was shaking with the rhythm of the carriage. Indeed, it had taken all of my willpower to maintain eye-contact thus far, and now, all hope of doing so disappeared completely as Aubrey gave the shuddering carriage free reign to bounce her every ounce.

True to form, my attention went immediately to Mistress' magnificent bosom. In spite of the support it was being offered by an impressive full-cup bra - the lace of which I could see outlined beneath her white blouse - Aubrey's full, heavy breasts had been jiggling invitingly throughout the journey. Now, however, they bounced and swayed with every shudder of the train, and I longed to dive forwards and bury my face in their softness. Obviously, Aubrey had noticed me starting to fidget and twitch, because she gave me a knowing look that plainly said 'sit still,' and I knew better than to disobey her.

"You like that, don't you Leonard?" she teased, her voice thick and syrupy as it cut through the fog of my lust. I was too stunned to speak, now practically hypnotised as I watched her entire body start to rock and sway. "I can tell how much you're longing to reach out and touch me, but you can't do that." She tossed her head to one side, nodding towards the small CCTV camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling of the carriage. "Big Brother is watching us, and I have a feeling that you'll have more than a smacked bottom to worry about if they spot you groping my huge soft tits in public!"

As if to emphasise the point, Aubrey let go of the bar with one hand and softly cupped her left breast, moaning to herself as she felt her hardening nipple through the layers of material. "Mmm," she cooed, a coquettish half-smile spreading slowly across her face. "I'll be you want to get your lips around my lovely big nipples. If it weren't for that silly little camera, I'd undo my blouse right now and let you suckle on them to your heart's content!" Hearing her tease me like that was more than I could bear, and I let out a ragged howl of frustration, gripping the seat-cushion with both hands as I watched Aubrey fondling herself with increasing abandon.

Once again, I could feel a stirring in my pants, the sight of my Mistress' jiggling body causing my cock to swell and throb. Aubrey saw it too. "Goodness me!" she cried, pulling her hand away from her bosom and gasping in mock astonishment. "Did I do that to you? Were you being a naughty boy, watching my lovely curvy body get bounced around by this train? Perhaps I need to teach you a lesson and show you how wrong it is to perv on big buxom ladies?" The half-smile was gone now: instead, Mistress was staring intently at my bulging crotch, and smiling in much the same way that a tiger might before trying to eat you for breakfast.

Suddenly, the train shuddered to a halt, and the shock was enough to cause Aubrey to let go of the bar entirely, thudding back down onto the padded seat. I let out a shrieking laugh, my eyes bugging out of my head as I watched the vibrations caused by the impact to ripple through her body, but wasted no time in seizing her outstretched hand and helping her back to her feet. Thankfully, the station was a 'surface' one, meaning that we didn't have to worry about negotiating a maze of tunnels in order to get outside.

As such, it couldn't have been more that ten or fifteen minutes before we were riding the elevator up to Aubrey's apartment, stealing the briefest of kisses before reaching the third floor; and no more than twenty minutes before we were standing in the middle of her sitting-room, our bags thrown casually into one corner, and the heating turned up against the winter cold. Spreading my arms imploringly, I could almost feel the passion radiating from Aubrey's body as she closed the distance, allowing me to enfold her in a desperate, longing embrace.

In that moment, I wanted more than anything for my Mistress to feel how much I needed her touch, and how much I had missed her presence; in spite of the fact that we had been separated for not much more than a week. Going into work each day and being faced with an empty office and a pile of paperwork in Aubrey's in-tray had only served to remind me of the obviousness of her absence; not to mention the lack of furtive kissing and cuddling during my tea-breaks or lunch-hour. Now that she was back, it was time for me to remind Aubrey just how much she meant to me.

Trying to emphasise the point, I added some extra pressure to my squeeze, gasping once again as I felt her massive bosom flattening against my chest; at the same time, I slid one hand slowly down her back until I felt the flesh of her firm,rounded arse-cheeks beneath my fingers. Aubrey began to purr contentedly as I fondled her, and I while I longed to plant a couple of playful smacks on each soft cheek, I didn't quite have the nerve, in case I broke the spell. Instead, I bent my head and traced my lips along her collarbone, kissing her neck as she, working on autopilot, ground her crotch against my thigh.

Suddenly, Aubrey seized my head in both hands and raised my eyes to look into her own; at the same time, she darted forwards so that our lips met, and once again my mind reeled at the fury of her passion. This time, however, I could feel Mistress responding to the grip of my hand on her arse, because her tongue was probing against my lips, desperately trying to enter my waiting mouth. Slowly, I yielded to her pressure, feeling her warm, wet tongue sliding over my own; the barbell piercing clicking softly against my teeth.

I could do little else but surrender to Aubrey's kisses; they always swept me away on a tidal-wave of emotion. As always, the moment was one of pure fire, and I moaned into her hot mouth as our tongues intertwined, promptly losing all sense of time and space. She had discarded her suit-jacket as soon as we had got through the door, and now Aubrey reached down to grab hold of the wrist of the hand that held her arse, guiding me to reach up between us and unbutton her blouse. This was easier said than done, but when I finally succeeded in pulling the white satin garment from her body, I could not resist whistling at the sight that greeted my eyes.

Aubrey had always displayed a fantastic taste in lingerie, but the bra that she was wearing tonight was particularly spectacular, and displayed her awesome breasts to perfection. It was a rich plum colour, and like her day-to-day bras, was heavily decorated with lace; however, she'd departed from her usual preference in type, opting for a plunge instead of a full-cup style. This latter decision, of course, meant that the garment served only to emphasise my Mistress' already impressive cleavage, and I was practically drooling with excitement as I drank it all in.

Seeing the pop-eyed expression on my face, Aubrey pulled away from me and cupped one massive breast in each hand, jiggling them up and down in front of my face and giggling like a naughty schoolgirl as I struggled to conceal the erection that was tenting the front of my jeans. "Don't try to hide it Leonard!" She chortled gleefully, "I know you far too well by now, and I especially know just how obsessed you are with these." So saying, she reached out a hand and brushed her fingers lightly across my crotch, cooing with delight as she felt my thick cock throb in response to her touch.

"You know what?" Aubrey purred, her tongue running slowly across her lips. "I do think your little friend wants to come out and play. After all, I teased you both so badly on the train, and you behaved so well while you were watching me, so maybe you deserve to have a bit of fun too." She gave my balls a playful squeeze through the fabric, and I noticed that she placed something of an emphasis on the word 'deserve.' Evidently, Mistress and I were going to spend an evening dancing the horizontal tango, but I was being given a clear indication as to who would be playing the tune.

Suddenly, the tension between us snapped like an over-wound spring, and in a matter of seconds - characterised in the main by an explosion of flailing limbs - Aubrey and I divested each other of everything but our underwear. I wasn't surprised to see that she had gone for a pair of high-leg lace panties that perfectly matched the new bra. However, she seemed somewhat taken-aback by my choice of garments; not least because I happened to be wearing a black lace thong, and as a result of my erection, my cock was attempting to make a bid for freedom.

"What in Christ's name are those?" Aubrey yelled at me, pointing a finger at my crotch and letting her laughter burst out in a high-pitched shriek. "You look positively ridiculous!" I flushed a deep scarlet, suddenly very much aware of just how exposed I was; particularly since my fat, turgid cock had by now escaped from the too-small panties, and was sticking out in front of me like the bowsprit of a pleasure-yacht. However, as I made a move to cover up my shame, she reached out and grasped my hard-on with a firm but gentle grip, stroking it slowly back and forth as her fit of giggling subsided, and tickling my aching balls with one finger.