The Commander Ch. 07

"Well," she thought, playing them all through her mind, "none, I guess."

"I have followed your lead, Fiona. Hell, this whole thing with Jocelyn started out as your idea, even if you thought it was a bet you couldn't lose. This party coming up -- I don't really know anything about it, but it is all you girls." I paused for effect. "Fiona, if you say three-ways, then we do three-ways. If you say no outside sex of any kind, then there is no outside sex. Period"

"Huh," Fiona said, just realizing it now as she again replayed all the encounters in her mind. "Actually, three ways, four, and even parties are fine -- I have no problem with those," Fiona accepted. "And I agree with you -- fucking in secret is completely out." She paused, thinking. "No," she mused, "it's outside sex with one person I am stuck on."

"Then let's not try to solve this now," I brokered toward a truce. "How about this? For now, until we make a long term rule, you have to ask my permission each time you want to have sex with an outside person, and the same goes for me."

"And if I say no?"

"Then it's no. Simple as that. And I don't get to ask again."

"What if I say no just because I'm pissed at you?" she played devil's advocate.

"It seems to me that could be a legitimate reason to say no," I observed.

"Do you want to fuck Jocelyn?"

"I would rather make love to you," I replied without hesitation.

"Bullshitter!" She was smiling.

"Fiona," I announced, "I am not going to do anything to fuck up again." I qualified with a wry smile, "well, not on purpose, anyway."

Fiona stared silently out her passenger window for several minutes as I drove under the rolling glare of the streetlamps. Still with her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, she pronounced softly "I don't want you to fuck Jocelyn. Three-ways and the party, okay. But not alone."

"Done," I confirmed. "By the way, it sounds like it is Jocelyn who is doing the asking, so I guess ..."

"I know," Fiona interrupted, now looking straight ahead. "I'll talk with her."

We drove in silence again for a while. "What about me having sex with other girls," Fiona asked.

"Now we're talking!" I cheered.

She slapped me on my shoulder with the back of her hand. "I'm serious," she pouted with a big smile. "I like fucking girls too." I have never understood the use of the verb 'fuck' when referring to girl-on-girl action. I let that pass.

"Same rules," I replied flatly. "It is outside sex. There is no difference."

"Do you want to watch?" She asked seriously.

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable," I offered truthfully.

"But do you want to?"

"Sometimes." I ventured. "Maybe we can discuss that when you ask my permission."

Fiona fell silent again for the next several miles. I honestly didn't care whether Fiona let me fuck Jocelyn or not. In fact, the events of tonight worked in my favor. I manufactured this situation only to prove to Fiona that I was giving her complete control over the boundaries of our sex life, and I would happily abide by whatever she chose. More than that, I was effective in demonstrating that, unlike the old Jet, I was not the one pressing for outside sex.

When I steered the BMW into our underground parking lot, Fiona resolved our original discussion of the evening. "Do you want to start looking at new condos next week?"

"Sure," I agreed. I smiled at Fiona's unspoken implication of it being 'our' condo.

Fiona had her chat with Jocelyn that night, and later that night I updated my skip with Jocelyn, and told her to stop asking Fiona about sex with me, and to stop wanting one-on-one sex with me, but to continue casual three-way sex with Fiona and me.

I spent most of Wednesday with Don issues again. I reserved a small viewing room for the Friday funeral -- I didn't expect many visitors. As for the disposition of his will, I hired a company to come out to the house next week and remove all the furnishings, clothing, dishes, tools -- everything. It takes a few days to pack everything up and haul it out. They sell what they can at second hand stores, and throw away the rest. A small sum from the sales goes to charities. I then hired cleaners and painters to fix it all up. If all went well, the house would be empty, clean, repainted, and on the market with a few weeks.

Don didn't have time to organize his affairs before he died, so his finances were scattered all over. I spent a lot of time bouncing between banks, investment brokers, trust agencies, and insurance companies. Each company needed a notarized letter from the estate lawyer declaring that Don was dead and that I was the executor of the estate and that I had the requisite powers of attorney to manage Don's finances. It was a time consuming and tedious process.

On Thursday morning the girls asked me to help them bring up the wooden box full of sex toys to the condo apartment in preparation for the party. They knew it was postponed a week, but they wanted to see what was in the box. I went to the condo office and borrowed their wheeled dolly. In our storage room, I unlocked the box, and removed everything that looked like it could discharge an electrical shock, and left it on a shelf. Fiona remained steady at the sight of the offending cattle prod. Then we wheeled the box to the elevator and up to the condo, and I returned the dolly to the office. When I came back to the condo, the girls were sorting through and counting all the equipment. I was astonished by the inventory:

- 12 pairs of wrist/ankle cuffs; - 2 pairs of metal handcuffs with keys; - 3 neck collars; - 2 binders that hold your arms together behind your back; - 4 adjustable spreader bars; - 10 leather blindfolds; - 6 gags; - 2 mouth rings; - 2 anal hooks (I didn't know what those were except they were in their original packaging with a picture of a woman with the hook up her ass with the other end tied to a rope with the other end tied to her pony tail); - 2 slim style yokes that hold your wrists up beside your neck; - 5 whips of different styles and lengths; - 4 spanking paddles; - 3 candles inside clear glass beakers, which I presumed allowed you to pour hot wax onto your victim; - dozens of nipple and labia clamps with chains; - various locks and hardware to fasten things together; and - over 50 ropes of different lengths, diameter, and fiber.

In the smaller box, there were over a 13 dildos of varying girth, length, and color. Nothing that looked specifically anal.

Over half of all the items were unopened in their original packaging.

"My God Jet," Jocelyn asked in wonder after they went through it all, "exactly what were you planning for?"

"Next Saturday," I shrugged, "I guess." I searched through Jet's memory to try to get a clearer understanding of why he ... It was gone. Jet's memory was completely gone. Even his memories I saw before, like Leticia and the front of the safe -- were gone. I realized this was probably the first time I had tried searching through Jet's memories since Don died. Jet's memories had been fading so badly in recent weeks anyway, I wasn't relying on them. But now they were gone. Jet was dead.

"We need some vibrators," Jocelyn observed, interrupting my private revelation. I didn't think it could be possible we could want more sex toys.

"Oh, yeah!" agreed Fiona, "and some strap-ons".

The girls started making a list of things they needed, including all the food, drinks, toys, and hardware. I prepared to get ready to go out -- I still had lots of more to do for Don's funeral tomorrow, and his will administration duties had no end in sight.

Just as I was preparing to leave, Jocelyn called out "hey, stay a while and play." She was holding up a pair of handcuffs. I looked at Fiona -- she shrugged, and then nodded in agreement.

"Just what did you have in mind," I asked Jocelyn.

"Oh," Fiona purred in a sultry voice before Jocelyn could answer, "we're going to tie you up and take advantage of you." She went from shrug to ringleader.

"Listen," I cautioned, "I'm game, but I really need to leave in an hour."

"We won't keep you late," Fiona promised.

"Not that much." Jocelyn added mischievously.

You have to know that, the old me never allowed anyone to tie me up -- ever. I was into many bondage scenes, but never once as a sub. I never trusted anyone else enough. I now realized maybe that was part of why Don died a lonely man.

Fiona looked at me holding leather cuffs in her hand. I swallowed hard, and walked toward my bondage masters.

"So where do we start?" I asked Fiona.

"With this," replied Jocelyn instead. It was a leather blindfold. I could tell that, once attached, there was no way to sneak a peek. The two girls worked together to secure the blindfold on me.

"Relax," I heard Fiona -- I think it was Fiona -- say. I realized I was quite tense, so I relaxed my shoulders and let my breathing flow more normally. I felt someone behind me wrapping her arms around my chest and unbutton my shirt, while I felt someone else tug at my belt. I had no way of knowing who was who -- even when they spoke, I couldn't tell their voices apart.

Before long I was naked, and then I felt something soft and heavy wrap around my right wrist -- it was a cuff. In an instant I felt my left wrist fall to the same confinement. And then both my ankles. One of the girls took me by the hand and said "Follow me." I was pretty sure we walked into the bedroom, and I confirmed my assumption when I was told to lie down on the bed. The girls debated for a short while about the mechanics of tying me up, and I knew the debate was over when I felt my left hand helplessly pull away toward the corner of the bed, and not long after, the right hand followed to the other corner. Then someone spread my legs apart very wide, and I felt something on my foot momentarily, and I heard a click, and another click, and then I could no longer close my legs. They put a spreader bar between my ankle cuffs. I was spread eagle and naked. I had no idea if they were naked, but I imagined they were taking their clothes off then.

A sting surprised me on my inside right thigh -- I flinched more at the surprise than any pain -- I realized someone was lightly whipping the inside of my right leg. Then my left leg. I flinched again at the surprise. Then the right leg. Then higher on the right thigh. And then higher again, and higher still until I thought the next one would surely strike my cock.

"You have been a bad, bad boy, Jet," I heard one girl say, "and we're here to punish you," said the other girl. A swell of panic rose in my throat -- I really didn't like being tied up. And then, with complete surprise, a mouth took in my flaccid cock and start sucking on it. As my member stiffened in her mouth, I twitched in surprise when I something touched my lips -- I didn't know what it was -- it felt metallic, hard, and it traced around the shape of my lips several times.

Just then the mouth went deep on my cock, and I felt both helpless and excited. I surrendered to the moment, and started paying attention to the sensations. I could smell a perfume -- I didn't recognize it, and suddenly my right nipple burned with fire and then my left. Someone was waxing me. After the initial pain, it felt warm, soothing, and it left me even more relaxed.

The mouth withdrew from my cock, and before long it started again, or perhaps a different one --I couldn't tell. I sensed the mattress deform beside my head -- someone had just kneeled there -- and then on the other side of me. I felt the sensation of skin touching my face at the same time my nose filled with the scent of pussy. I stuck my tongue out, and probed for her vagina, and then stuck my tongue up as far as it could go.

Suddenly the cock sucking stopped. There was more movement on the bed, and then my cock welcomed the unmistakable sensation of her tight vagina sliding up and down my shaft. I returned my focus to the pussy over my face, and started massaging where I thought the clit was. As I resumed my cunnilingus, someone whipped my chest and tummy in rhythm to whoever was fucking me. Every down stroke fuck on my cock metered out matching lash on my front. I was surprised how much the whipping excited me. I increased the force on my tongue work, and I was rewarded with an appreciative moan. The whipping continued. Each lash stung a little, but it never left a lasting pain.

Now I felt my balls start to churn, and I knew the fucking would soon end in eruption. I focused on bringing whoever was sitting on my face to climax, and redoubled my lingual massage. More moans agreed with my efforts, and I soon heard the moans intensify with greater frequency -- she was getting close. After a few more minutes I knew I was close to blowing my wad. I upped my game on the clitoral stimulation, and finally I felt the unmistakable feeling of my balls passing the point of no return.

I closed my fists and pulled against my arm restraints as hard as I could while pressing my face up against her pussy so hard I felt her whole body rise off the bed. Somehow I maintained my cunnilingus technique. Whoever was fucking me suddenly withdrew -- just at the worst possible moment -- but salvation was mine when I felt a loving mouth envelope my exploding cock and it took me deep right up to my balls. I drove my tongue and lower jaw hard against the pussy over my face, and I heard the moans overhead give way to a long, low wail, and her pussy started humping my face. My cock unloaded wave after wave deep into someone's mouth. Whoever it was stayed with me until my orgasmic pulsations ebbed, while the pussy on my face continued humping my mouth in orgasmic convulsions.

At last the mouth pulled away from my cock, and I heard a gasp for air, while the pussy over my face stopped rocking, but stayed in position. I darted my tongue in and out, trying to tickle her pussy a little. Only then did I realize the whipping on my chest had stopped, but I had no idea when.

We stayed in position for several minutes. As the pussy pulled away from my face, I felt the other girl playing with my flaccid penis. "What happened to never-ending fucking?" I heard one of them say.

"I think it's in mourning," is all I could think to reply, which was not far from the truth.

"I know I am," said one of the girls, and I smiled.

"Jet, don't go anywhere," I heard one of them say. And then I felt movement on the bed. All went silent, but I could feel the odd motion through the mattress. Then I heard the distinctive moans of someone closing in on a distant orgasm. Only two of us climaxed, and one girl was taking care of that for her sister. I couldn't tell if it was a hand job or tongue work -- I know both girls are adept at either. The moans turned into groans, and I was surprised to discover how erotic just the sound of sex was. As I listened to her growing closer and closer, I discovered I had been squeezing my own butt cheeks hard together in my own excitement. At last I heard her erupt, and I exhaled sympathetically, only then realizing I had stopped breathing for a while.

The girls quickly unfastened my wrist and ankle cuffs, but asked me to leave my blindfold on. Then they slipped me under the bed covers, and was all spooned together, with me in the middle. I didn't know who was in front or behind, but I reached around and gently caressed the breasts of the girl ahead of me. We stayed that way for a while -- maybe fifteen minutes.

I figured I was closing in on my hour time limit, so I removed my blindfold and did my best to get up without disturbing the girls. A film of red wax covered my chest, and a few whip marks remained on my stomach. I showered and dressed while the girls, still in bed, closed the gap I left and were spooning together. I kissed Jocelyn (who, it turns out, was in front of me during our spooning) lightly on the cheek, and then I leaned over Jocelyn and I kissed Fiona on the lips.

"See you tonight," I offered as I left the room.

I went to the funeral home to attend to final preparations. Don was already cremated. I had also arranged for his remains to be laid to rest beside his wife and son. I answered what seemed to be a million questions about music, seating, refreshments, religious needs, and on and on.

Back at Don's house, I met with the real estate agent, and we went through the preparations for the sale. I explained my plan to remove all the furniture and belongings. Only the appliances would remain. I also told her I had hired cleaners and a painter. I gave her instructions to sell the house quickly -- translation -- low price. She said she had already crunched the numbers on her computer based on sale prices in this neighborhood for the past three years, and after looking through the house, she thought a reasonable price would be $725,000. I told her to list it at $699,990.

I thought about my discussion with Fiona in the car to skydiving class on Tuesday night. I decided I needed to be better prepared for future events, so I took some personal time at a high end store I had always coveted as Don, but never been in to. I always carried it with me after that.

Throughout the day I found myself oddly distracted by a haunting question. With both Don and Jet dead, who am I?

I phoned Fiona from my cell. I asked if she would like to go out with me tonight -- alone -- for dinner. I explained we hadn't had have much 'us alone' time this week. She agreed without hesitation. "How about dancing afterwards," she asked.

"Sure," I said, "as long as it's just you and me, and not too late -- the funeral is tomorrow morning."

"You got it, Big Boy" I could hear her smile. This wasn't more manipulative babble to connive Fiona to love me. I had a long, emotionally draining week, and I needed someone to share that with. The parts I could share, that is.

When I got home, Fiona was dressed smartly in a trim white cotton blouse and a knee-length dark blue skirt. She wore a thin, black, unbuttoned cardigan. Not dancing club clothing. She and Jocelyn, who was in jeans and a tee shirt, were doing something on my computer. After I kissed Fiona hello, I realized they were looking at condos online. "I told Jocelyn we're thinking about a larger condo -- I hope that's okay, Jet."

"Of course it is," I assured her. "Actually, I'm glad you've already started looking around."

"In what way?" Fiona asked gently.

"Well, if you can narrow the search down, then it will take us less time to find perfect one for us."

She paused, perhaps thinking about all the implications and assumptions I built into that statement. "Jet," she started, "you do you have an idea of how much a condo costs as nice as this one -- waterfront -- top floor -- but with three large bedrooms and a fireplace?" She didn't blink, but that's because I wasn't the one who said it. I cursed myself for forgetting again to remove that skip. I would do it tonight for sure, because I know that word is going to come up often.

"I am guessing three to four million," I replied.

"Closer to four," she confirmed. "And, you're okay with that?"

"That's what I was expecting. I can work with that," I assured her. The old Jet was about to dump five million of his own cash into a business doomed to fail. I'd rather invest it in real estate.

"And you won't overextend yourself with two mortgages -- you know -- until you sell this one?" I knew exactly where Fiona was trying to take this conversation. It was time to let her in.

"There's no mortgage on this place," I informed her, "and I won't need a mortgage for the new condo. I can carry both properties without breaking a sweat." Fiona and Jocelyn exchanged a wide eyed look. This is the first time Jet had ever given Fiona a peek at the magnitude of his wealth.

"You two go have fun," Jocelyn smiled. "I'll keep looking." I had a quick shower after a day of talking about dead people and rummaging through an old house, and then I put on fresh clothes.