Charlotte’s Secret Recipe

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A Mistress and Charlotte Playdate

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Other Mistress and Charlotte stories for your enjoyment

Girl Friday
Kitten With Benefits
Maid’s Day Off
A Beautiful Night
Charlotte’s Opening Day
Best Laid Plans

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Author’s Note

The events and characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The two main characters in this story are a couple in a dominant-submissive relationship. It is safe, sane, and consensual as well as kind and loving. But if this type of relationship is not your thing, you may want to skip this story and find something else to read.

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Prologue

Dear Friends,

I’m hoping you have all had a chance to read the story of how Charlotte and I first met. It’s on this site under the title of ‘Girl Friday’ in case you haven’t. It’s a sweet little love story and it explains a lot about how our relationship started. I’ve been told it’s rather steamy too. I blame Charlotte for that, for she truly is a little vixen. Then again, that’s just one of the many reasons why I love her so much.

We’re engaged now, and we both lead very busy lives, but we still find time to have lots of fun together. Sometimes our fun gets a little intense. This is a story about one of those times.

Love and Hugs,
Mistress Natasha

*

Introduction

I peered up at Mistress as she towered over me. God, she looked sexy! Something about a woman in riding pants and boots really put naughty thoughts in my head. Of course the way she jiggled inside her blouse wasn’t helping to calm me down either. “Obviously skipped the bra this morning,” I thought in my head.

“You going to tell me what I want to know or not?” she asked sternly.

I just shook my head. I couldn’t speak, not with the gag in my mouth.

Whack! The crop came down hard between my legs.

I flinched. The end of the crop had struck the edge of the desk, not my skin, but it sent a surge of adrenaline through my system nonetheless. Mistress was really getting into this — and so was I!

“You will tell me what I want to know, Charlotte. Even if it takes all day,” she promised while slowly raking the business end of the riding crop up the inside of my trembling thigh.

I knew there were only two ways out of this for me. I would either drop the tennis ball that was clutched in my right hand, or I would confess my grandmother’s coffee cake recipe. I had no plans to drop the ball, so I knew that eventually I would divulge the recipe. I just wasn’t planning to give it up so easily.

Part I

Charlotte looked absolutely delicious bound to my desk. I had padded it with a couple of yoga mats and a beach towel before tying her down. After all, my intention was only to pinken her skin today, not give her a bad back. She was face up, looking at me expectantly through dilated pupils. I had her wrists and ankles pulled down and secured to the legs of the desk, just below the filing drawers.

“My goodness, Charlotte, you are soaked!” I teased as I slid the crop over and between her moist folds. She just moaned and strained at her bonds. “I could take care of that for you. I can be reasonable, you know. You wouldn’t have to suffer at all if you would just give me the recipe.” I slowly slid my tongue over the end of the crop to emphasize my point.

Charlotte just shook her head.

Slap!

I laid the business end of the crop across her tummy, not hard, but enough to leave a little pink outline where it had been — and a little glistening trace of my saliva mixed with her juices. Charlotte flinched. Oh, she looked so yummy! I really wanted to bury my face between her legs, but first I needed to get that recipe.

*

This had all started a few days ago with what should have been a simple request, and ended up turning into one monumental playdate. I had book club coming up and it was my turn to bring a treat, so I had texted Charlotte in the morning asking for her grandmother’s coffee cake recipe. It was the best I’d ever had, and I figured the ladies would love it. They’d curse me for the extra calories, but they’d love it.

My conversation with Charlotte went something like this.

M: Baby, do you have your gran’s coffee cake recipe?
C: Not on me, M.
M: Funny! Where is it?
C: Not sure I should give it to you, M. Family secret.
M: You sure you want to play it that way?
C: Yes, M.
M: I will get that recipe.
C: Eventually, M. Perhaps.
M: Game on!
C: Can’t wait, M!

That conversation was three days ago, just long enough for me to formulate a plan. And with the aid of an online equestrian shop with express shipping, I also had enough time to purchase an appropriate outfit and accessories for the final act.

I’ve never ridden horses myself, but I had been to the steeplechase enough times to know that I would have a hard casino siteleri time saying no to any woman in riding pants and boots. As I modeled my outfit in the mirror, I was hoping Charlotte would have a similar weakness. I hate to brag, but I looked pretty damn enticing! The pants fit me like a glove and hugged my curves in all the right places, and in just the right way. And the boots! “What woman doesn’t look sexy in boots?” I thought as I tucked the form-fitting button-down into my waistband and did a happy little twirl. Yes, this was going to be perfect.

My thoughts were interrupted as I heard the front door opening. I quickly stripped and hid the outfit in the closet. Quietly slipping into my robe, and putting on a neutral expression, I made my way downstairs to greet Charlotte. “Hi baby,” I said as I pressed up against her. The silky fabric of the robe was thin, so I knew it must be some temptation for her. “Have you come around to my way of thinking yet?”

“No, Mistress.”

“OK, baby, you know the drill.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said and trotted up the stairs. Charlotte came down a few minutes later, wearing nothing but her black leather play collar and matching cuffs.

“You know, it doesn’t have to be this way,” I told her as I secured her hands behind her back with a snap of the carabiner. “Just tell me the recipe and and all is forgiven. I’ll even let you sleep with me again.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress, it’s a family secret.”

“Too bad for you,” I said as I helped her onto the breakfast bar stool and set her plate in front of her. “Well, the Geneva Convention says I’ve got to feed you, so here you go. Good luck!”

I made spaghetti tonight. Now I like pasta as much as the next girl, but I was mostly interested in seeing Charlotte try to get the long noodles to her mouth without the benefit of utensils — or her hands for that matter. I could see she was trying to figure out her best angle of attack as she leaned into the plate.

“Honey, wait,” I said. “Let me get you a fork.”

“It’s OK, Mistress.”

“No. No, it’s not. I love you Charlotte and I’m not going to humiliate you like this,” I said, unclipping the carabiner from her cuffs.

“I ate like this when I was being a kitty,” she said, somewhat confused, “I thought you liked it.”

“That was your idea and you initiated it, so it was easier for me to go along with.”

“OK. Thank you for the fork, Mistress.”

“My pleasure, darling,” I said as I leaned in to stroke her hair.

Charlotte had been a really good sport about everything over the past three days. We had never played together for this long, so I was expecting one or two bumps along the way. This was minor. Every morning I would ask her if she was still OK. Her answer was always the same, “I’m fine Mistress, but you’re not getting the recipe today.” Cheeky girl!

“Baby, you missed a little,” I teased, licking a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth. She smiled. “Now go get cleaned up. I’m going to put you over my knee and I don’t want any sauce on my nice robe.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You sure you won’t tell me what I want to know?” I asked as I sat down on the sofa.

“I can’t Mistress, it’s a family secret,” Charlotte replied as she laid her body over my leg for the third night in a row.

“Very well, it’s your choice,” I said, slowly running my fingernail up the back of her thigh.

Slap!

I gave her a good one. I think this was Charlotte’s favorite part of the evening. Honestly, I was more upset about trying to make her eat without utensils than I was worried about spanking her. Spanking was fun!

Slap! Mmm.

I heard Charlotte moaning, and not necessarily in a bad way. She told me once how much she got off on the skin-on-skin contact of a good spanking. She said that as long as she was properly aroused beforehand, it was just as erotic to her than kissing or fondling, maybe more.

Slap! Ohh.

Charlotte had pretty much been aroused from the moment she walked in the door. She loved role-playing games as much as I did.

Slap! Mmmm.

“Last chance, baby. You gonna tell me?”

“No Mistress, it’s a family secret.”

Slap! Mmmm.

“OK, we’re done. Climb down and I’ll let you have a little dessert before bed.” I spread my legs and slid my robe out of the way. Now we were on to my favorite part of the evening!

Part II

Oh, I love my mistress’s pussy! I had buried my tongue as far as it would go and was swirling it around as best I could. This was not as easy without the use of my hands and Mistress had clipped them behind my back again. “I guess her concern about me eating face-first only applied to dinner and not dessert,” I giggled to myself.

“What’s so funny down there, Charlotte?” I heard Mistress ask.

“Nothing, Mistress, just thinking about eating without using my hands.”

“Here, let me help you,” she said as she slipped a finger inside.

“Oh, that is nice!” I thought as canlı casino I watched the action from my ring-side seat.

I was running little, lazy circles around Mistress’s nub with my tongue as I watched and listened to her finger squishing in and out of its moist confines. Soon we had settled into a routine, where on every third stroke of her finger, I would slide my tongue over it before she hid it away again. Talk about cooperation!

I sensed that she could go over the edge at any minute, but I did my best to keep her hanging on. I didn’t want her to come, not yet. I knew that after her orgasm, it was off to bed for me — by myself — in the guest room. It was a pretty dull way to spend the evening, so I was hoping to enjoy her womanly gifts for as long as I possibly could. I pulled back a little and began lapping at her thigh.

“Charlotte, you little tease! I will not hesitate to put you over my knee again.” Mistress took a handful of my hair and guided me back to where she thought I should be.

“Yes, Mistress,” I sighed. This was one of the few times in my life that I was not looking forward to Mistress crying out my name.

“Oh god, Charlotte! Keep doing that! Yes! Right there!”

She had me by the hair, so honestly, I didn’t think I was going anywhere.

“Oh, yes! — Yes! — Yessssss!” she sang out. “Oh Charlotte, thank you, baby. That was wonderful.”

I smiled and laid my head on her thigh. Off to bed or not, I was still proud of myself. Mistress offered me her finger to be cleaned off while she stroked my hair with her free hand. As I was wrapping my tongue around her long, juicy digit, she spoke.

“You know Charlotte, I could make you feel good like that. All you have to do is give me the recipe.”

I shook my head and Mistress pulled her finger out of my mouth with an audible pop.

“Get up!” she ordered. “You’re going to bed.”

“I’m not sure if she’s really upset with me or if she’s just playing,” I thought as I stood brushing my teeth.

“Charlotte, how are you holding up?” Mistress asked as she was lacing my hands into her kickboxing gloves for the night.

“I’m OK, Mistress,” I said. “Are you really mad at me?”

“No, Charlotte, I’m just playing along. If it’s too much we can stop.”

“I’m fine, Mistress, but I’m still not giving you the recipe. Not even if you spank me again.”

“Do you think you need a spanking, Charlotte?” she grinned.

“Maybe.”

“Well far be it for me to deny you.”

Slap!

“Oh, Mistress. Thank you.” These past few days I had really discovered just how turned on I can get from a good spanking.

Slap!

“Mmm, Thank you, Mistress.”

Slap!

“That’s it Charlotte, off to sleep. You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said as she tucked me in. “Good night, Mistress.”

“Good night, baby.”

*

I woke to Mistress peeling back the covers and sniffing the boxing gloves that were still on my hands. She had told me that the gloves were to keep me from pleasuring myself in the night, and that the sniff test was to check and see if I had tried to ride one of the gloves to an orgasm. I was getting pretty needy, but I wasn’t that desperate yet.

“Go run through the shower and brush your teeth,” she ordered. “I want you in my office in fifteen minutes.”

I did as I was told and I knew exactly what she meant. This was not the first time we’d played like this, and Mistress had been the one who trained me after all. So after I was clean and oiled, I dressed myself in nothing but collar and cuffs, and made my way down to Mistress’s office.

The blindfold was waiting for me on her desk. I tied the strip of cloth over my eyes and knelt on the floor just inside the door. I was trying to be patient, waiting as I had been taught, hands on my thighs with knees shoulder-width apart. As soon as I heard Mistress enter the room, I spread my knees wider, and placed my hands behind my head, thrusting my chest out.

“Very good, Charlotte,” she complimented.

I felt something brushing under the curve of my breast. It was not the familiar feel of her fingernail and the new sensation had my curiosity piqued.

“I want you to come over and sit on my lap Charlotte,” she said, taking my hand. “Let me help you.”

I was thankful for the assistance, since I couldn’t see a thing with the blindfold covering my eyes. Mistress helped me settle onto her lap. It was a really nice place to be. Mistress always had me sit here when she wanted to complement me or tell me something important. I had many fond memories of her lap and I felt myself relaxing a bit.

“Charlotte, honey, open your mouth. OK, now close.”

“Mmm.” I responded as I wrapped my lips around the spoon. “Oatmeal, Mistress?”

“Yes, darling, with fruit, nuts and brown sugar, just the way you like it.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” I said as she continued to feed me my breakfast.

“I just want you to know that I can be reasonable. All you have kaçak casino to do is give me the recipe for your grandmother’s coffee cake and all of your suffering can come to an end.”

“Sorry, Mistress. Family secret.”

“I was afraid you might say that,” she said and pressed what felt like the rim of a glass to my lips. “Here, drink some, and swish it around a little. You won’t want to have any little oatmeal bits in there for this next part.”

“What next part?” I wondered. Then I felt something forcing my jaw open. “Mmph.” Mistress was pressing what felt and tasted like a rubber ball into my mouth — and then what? — tying it in the back? “Oh, a ball gag,” my mind realized. “Wait! What?”

“I see from your expression that you’ve figured it out already. I’m not surprised, you are a clever girl, Charlotte. Not quite clever enough to give me the recipe yet, but soon — I promise.”

“Oh god,” I thought in a bit of a panic, “we’ve talked about this, but we’ve never done it before. How was I supposed to tell Mistress if I needed a break? What if it was too intense? What would I do?”

Mistress must have sensed my trepidation, because she had started gently stroking my hair. “Shhh,” she whispered, “I’m going to give you this. If you get uncomfortable, just drop it and we’ll take a break.”

I squeezed at the round object she had placed in my hand. “Hmm, fuzzy,” I thought to myself, “tennis ball?” I held onto the ball and nodded. I mean, what else could I do with the blindfold over my eyes and the gag wedged in between my lips. Holy shit, this was making me nervous! What if my nose got all snotty and I couldn’t breathe? I was starting to shake.

I manged to calm myself a little as Mistress continued stroking my hair and whispering, “Remember the ball, Charlotte. You can drop it right now if you don’t want to do this. I’ll be keeping an eye on you too, but remember the ball. That’s the quickest way to tell me it’s too much.”

I managed to nod with a hell of a lot more confidence than I was feeling right now. After a few more strokes of Mistress’s hand in my hair, I stopped shaking and began to get my breathing back under control.

“Stand up, Charlotte,” Mistress commanded and I obeyed. As she slid the blindfold off of my eyes I nearly dropped the tennis ball, not from fright mind you, but because she looked so damned delicious! Those tight riding pants! The leather boots! Her breasts jiggling under her blouse as she moved!

“Oh, Mistress!” I thought as my eyes went wide with lust. She looked very pleased with my reaction.

“You could have this,” she said, showing off her body by running her hands down the sides of her blouse and over her hips and thighs. “All you have to do is give me your grandmother’s recipe.”

I just shook my head.

“Oh, Charlotte,” she sighed as she picked me up and laid me on the top of her desk, “you will tell me what I want to know.”

The top of her desk was amazingly soft and surprisingly comfortable. “Oh, there’s a towel under me,” I thought, “Mistress probably doesn’t want my pussy juice all over her nice hardwood desk.” I giggled a little.

“Lie still!” Mistress commanded as she brought out a leather riding crop from somewhere and flicked it against her palm while I watched. My humor faded rather quickly after that. Mistress set the crop to rest on my quivering tummy. “Nervous?” she asked. “We don’t have to do this. You could just give me the recipe.”

I shook my head weakly as she began securing my wrists and ankles. I was not going anywhere. I was completely at the mercy of Mistress and her whims. My only friend right now was a tennis ball clutched firmly in my right hand. What had I gotten myself into?

Mistress had moved herself around to where my head was laid and was busy slipping a thin little pillow under it. I don’t know if the pillow was for my comfort, or to elevate my head enough so I had a clear view of what she was going to do to me. I’m not sure which was worse, being blindfolded, or watching the nasty end of the crop making its way slowly up my inner thigh only to stop pressed against my entrance. Nervously, I shifted my gaze from the crop, to Mistress, and then back to the crop.

“Mmm,” I moaned in spite of my anxiety, watching helplessly as Mistress slid the crop slowly between my folds. It was not nearly as enjoyable as her tongue, but the leather was soft and actually felt surprisingly pleasant. I imagine it would have been better if I weren’t scared out of my wits right now. I was really hoping she wouldn’t decide to subject my poor pussy to the business end of that riding crop. I felt myself gripping the tennis ball tighter.

“You like that?” Mistress teased. “Just look at how wet it’s made you.” And with that, she brought the moist end of the crop up to paint my lips. I strained at my bonds and cursed the gag in my mouth. I was beginning to calm a bit now and I really wanted to slide my tongue over the end of that crop. I wanted to taste my juices on the smooth leather, and to show Mistress how turned on she had me right now. I could see it and I could smell it, but I couldn’t get it in my mouth, not with the gag in the way. I found myself straining against my bonds in frustration.

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