2ND INSTALLMENT OF COVID-19 & THE SUBMISSIVE

COVID-19 & THE SUBMISSIVE - Musing # 1348: Family Quarantine – Day 1 minus 2

Chapter 1 – Deetz and Angus

Some background, eh?  My name is Desmond Mac Innes-Reese.  Most folks call me Deetz.  I’m married to the 12th Earl of Glamorgan, Angus Mac Innes-Reese, a descendent of Welsh royalty and one of the richest men in the world (yeah, just like the fairy tales).  My sister Ciara says I look like Bruce Lee’s brother from another mother.  Angus looks like he just left the cover of some corner store bodice ripper, kilt and all.  We’ve been married for nearly six years and things are changing. 

When we returned from our last adventures as alien hunters (later!), it was Angus’s grandmother and family matriarch, Lady Nora standing next to my pregnant best friend, Toni.  I went into theology because I didn’t have to do math so it took me a minute to put 2 and 2 together so I could arrive at 5.  Toni had visited me in Tel Aviv in the last days of my internship.   Angus showed up in Israel quite unexpectedly, but I loved the idea of hanging out with my two favourite people.

It was five days of dance clubs, beach parties, and good weed.  I’d never slept with Toni but you’d have to be blind not wonder about the curves under those pants.  It wasn’t planned, not at least by Angus.  And, well, . . . you can’t gyrate against one another in the bar, get wet in the Mediterranean Sea, and smoke Sativa all night and stuff not happen. We’d been responsible most times out but then someone forgot to get a new condom, twice, well . . .  That was five months ago.  My initial reaction wasn’t paternal, but it wasn’t hostile either.  Lady Nora was quietly thrilled which made me think the 73-year old woman had something to do with it (No!  Not like that!  Even my kinks have limits).  However, Angus was . . . well, I don’t know.  He immediately announced he was heading to London and left without so much as an ass slap.  Emails, texts, Facetime – Angus refused to talk about it.

“We’ll settle it when I get back.   Just make sure she’s following Dr. Randolph’s instructions.”  The family doctor confined her to the mansion when she arrived – there was bleeding when she got off the direct flight from Chicago.  Dr.  LaTonya Hoffman was a clinical psychologist, a world-renowned Aikido expert with a body Beyonce would have to bid for at Sotheby’s.  After Angus left, Lady Nora assigned Toni a set of rooms next to the old nursey and ensured everyone knew of this woman’s elevated status as the mother to the next earl and his twin sister.  Told you things were changing.

Tonight, I sat in my office surrounded by an impressive library, a state-of-the-art audiovisual system all run by a computer network that does everything in the estate from security to three-dimensional screen projection.   It was a cool March evening – no snow but you could see your breath.  Angus had been gone for nearly three weeks and I was missing him dreadfully.  According to BBC News, rumours were swirling around Downing Street and Whitehall that the government was considering placing the whole country on quarantine.  So now I’m lonely and worried; would Angus get back before they shut down Cardiff Airport or the rails.  As an MP, it wouldn’t look good for him to pull strings just to get home, not a good image.  He would be stuck in our townhouse masturbating to me fucking myself with a cucumber.  We grow big ones in our vegetable garden.  It’s okay but I really need a cuddle.

10:30 pm.  I finished the news summary and was about to turn off the tellie when I caught something in my periphery.  I turned.   He was immediately on me.  We are the same height but whereas I am slim and tight, Angus’s body would make The Rock upgrade his workout regimen.  But something was amiss.  With my Dom, my husband, commands were more of an expectation of compliance than any show of force. When you’re this kinda rich, you grow up with a notion that what you want is readily available or available to a nearby servant.  Tonight’s aggressiveness, even when initiating sex, was out of character. 

But hot as hell.  “Your home, your Grace!”  I would have stepped back, bowing slightly but he grabbed my shoulder like a bear who’s already chosen what side dish he was pairing with your breast meat.  He squeezed hard, punching close to my neck.

I opened my eyes after grimacing and saw a man on fire.  And he was a mess.  His shoulder-length hair looked like he’d been sleeping on his left side during a 16-hour flight.  He was still in a suit he’d probably put on this morning.  And he smelled – like a hungry lion in heat.    Where was this going?

Although he hissed out, “I’ve been craving you since lunch”, undoubtedly it had been longer than that.  He pushed me up against the only wall space that didn’t have a device or a bookshelf.  He grabbed both shoulders and forced me onto my knees, though I hardly needed convincing.  “Suck.  Suck now,” he commanded.  Angus was so frantic; he nearly caught his dick in the zipper.

When he got it out, the thick rod glistened, as if it had started without me.  Initially, I held it in my hand, caressing and kissing, purposefully playing innocent.  But Angus wasn’t having it.  He grabbed my chin and clapped his eyes on mine and spit out a husky whisper.  “Do you mean to defy me?  Put that hand down.”

“Yes, your Grace,” I replied. 

He took his dick from me and placed it inside my open mouth.  “Look at me while I do this to you.  I want you to watch and envy my pleasure.”

I looked up as he moved his hips abruptly forward installing his dick well past my uvula.  He held it there shuddering, trying to regain control so his cum didn’t blow a hole in the back of my head.  Like a said, Angus, isn’t a violent lover.  When I’ve gotten in slightly injured during our play, he got quite upset.  It was an hour of organic topical remedies along with many self-recriminations.   Angus homed his skills under the tillage of Madam Richfield, a courtesan whose parlour specialized in training the adulting children of the Commonwealth’s elite on how to fuck.  She’d find your kink and in a combination of direct instruction and fieldwork with one of her “assistants”.  At her establishment, you count reserved time in weeks or months, not minutes.  It was said that she “raised” every prime minister since Margaret Thatcher (Hey, Iron Lady had soft spots too, I guess . . .).

Madam Richfield believed marks on a sub is a sign of “a master with a messy mind”.  To her, focus and control were the hallmarks of “someone who had mastered the demands of being someone’s Dom”.  Well, right now he was making a B- in self-control but there was plenty of night left to earn an A+.

He let out a groan then threw his head back.  He squeezed the almond curls on the back of my head and pulled everything put the tip of his prick out.   He took it in hand, letting the headrest on my tongue.  He bent forward to lean his head on his arm against the wall.   Angus looked at me like a starving beast and began speaking in Welsh (Le, dyma beth sydd ei angen arnoch chi, rhywbeth i gau eich ceg a'ch meddwl - Yeah, this is what you need, something to shut up your mouth and mind.), French (Cette bouche n'appartient qu'à ma bite. Comprenez vous? - That mouth only belongs around my dick.  Do you understand?), and eventually German (Leck es, Deetz. Komm und hol deine Belohnung!  - Lick it, Deetz. Come get your reward!). 

A spot on the underside of his head was an erogenous zone for Angus – one that was perfectly suited for my rather thick and wide tongue.  Just like you’d lick the outside of your upper lip, I moved my tongue around and around while looking at him like I was daring him to stop himself from cumming.  Over the years application of this technique had become a playful contest of wills where sometimes I win while other times, I let him win.  I thought we’d both win this time.

Angus’s breath became ragged.  He began to shake like water coming to boil.  Still, he kept looking down at me as if he was holding on to every drop of control.  Then for a moment, barely a second, I could feel things shift in him.  Like my sister is a whisperer in the animal world, my talent is clairescence – I sense people’s emotions by touching them and the things they touched.  Angus’s sudden change went across my mind like a CNN crawl.  It was just four small words – please don’t leave me.  I realized then that the source of some of this “eagerness” was fear.  I don’t have Ciara’s talent of being able to project thoughts, otherwise, I would have said something like, where would I go when the love of my life is here?  But since I had a dick bouncing atop of my tongue, speaking was out of the question.  I did the next best thing and wrapped my lips around his head and began to suck it gently while I rolled my tongue against his nozzle. 

“My G-d I love it when he cheats!” Angus said as he filled my mouth.  He came so much that if I didn’t know better, I’d think he hadn’t masturbated in weeks.  It came out all at once, so he regained sanity quickly.  “Okiru (Get up)!” he ordered in Japanese while pulling me up by my shirt collar.  He pushed me further against the wall and growled, “Mada owattenai (I’m not done with you yet).”

Then there came three rat-a-tat-tats and the door came open and Toni breezed in the room with a mission.  She was like that – brazen and forward.  She was strolling through her mobile as if looking for something.  “Hey, Deetz.  I saw the light on and thought you were still awake.  Could you help me with . . . , “ she said before coming to a full stop.  “Sorry, I didn’t know you were back Angus.”  Toni started to turn and leave, “I’ll catch you in the morning . . . or afternoon.  I assume you two want to catch up.”

Before she reached the doorknob, Angus said, “You’re just in time actually.  I’d like to talk to you.”  He didn’t take his eyes off me but then again, he hadn’t bothered to hide the penis sticking out of his fly.  “Go get your 35mm camera and meet us in our room.”

Toni slowly turned her head, likely to determine how serious Angus was.  Her mouth opened slightly as if trying to find the words.  Then she turned toward the door again, giggled like a schoolgirl, and left to do what she was instructed.  Who knew a pregnant woman could move like that?  I better not hear shit about her feeling fat or something . . . there are curves and jiggles on that woman that should be internationally illegal.

“Do you want to fuck her?”  Angus asked after the door closed.  “But who knows,” he snarled, “you probably shagged many times while I was gone.”  I didn’t say anything as he cupped my dick and balls.  He was genuinely surprised at what he found.  While massaging my caged cock, he smiled and said, “My, my, you have been good!  But have you taken care of this prize?”

“Of course, your Grace,” I said while he loosened the shoulder grip, “the only thing that has touched it has been the items in the hygiene kit you left for me.” He had it specially made with bars made from the material used to make high-end prosthetists, like his left hand, which he lost during one of our previous missions.  The cage felt like human flesh and could be created to match your skin tone.   But don’t be fooled, my dear reader.  My male chastity cage isn’t to control me as much as it is a way to remind me of Angus’s touch.  When he was away, he left the key so I could clean and lotion my dick regularly.

“Come and undress me,” Angus instructed.  I followed behind him and wondered if I’d put lube on the Amazon order list.