2 Minds Meet - Text {Uther}
                                                                               

IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law 
to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do 
something else. 

This material is Copyright, 2003, Uther Pendragon.  All rights 
reserved.  I specifically grant the right of downloading and 
keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long as 
this notice is included.  Reposting requires previous 
permission. 

If you have any comments or requests, please E-mail them to me 
at nogardneprethu@gmail.com. 

If you save erotic stories and you prefer that other household 
members not be exposed to them, I recommend that you use a file 
zipped with the PKZip option -spassword.  (Where the password 
that you choose would, presumably, not be "password.")  This 
still leaves open to anybody the titles of the files and the 
fact that they are encrypted 

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as 
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination 
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly 
coincidental. 


                          #   #  #   #

                          2 Minds Meet
                        Uther  Pendragon
                     nogardneprethu@gmail.com


"Miss Brandon," her secretary's voice came through the speaker on 
Friday, "you have a call from a Jonathan Quirk."  She picked up 
the phone.

"Melissa," he began, "would you have dinner with me tonight?"

"I'd be honored."

"Five o'clock at your office?"

"That would be fine."

He met her at the office and walked her to his car.  "Are you 
wearing the stockings I gave you?" he asked when he was in 
traffic.

"No." 

"Have them at home?"

"Yes."  

"We'll go there first then."  He parked in a guest slot under her 
building and waited while she signed for it with the evening 
guard.  When he was in her condo, he said, "No panties.  
Diaphragm.  Change clothes if you want, but something with a 
skirt."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.  There was no sense 
pretending she had a choice.

"My place."

"To eat?"

"Sure.  I won't starve you."

His place was a one-bedroom apartment in a rental building.  It 
hardly competed with hers, not even having a doorman, but it was 
no slum.  The meal was Korean take-out.  "Now," he said when they 
had finished, "I've been thinking.  I'm used to contracts.  This 
isn't enforceable, and I won't pretend that it is.  But I think 
we need to have our relationship down in writing."

"Relationship?" she said.  "Who says we have a relationship?"

"Melissa!  You act coy at the weirdest times.  Would you really 
let a man tell you to put in your diaphragm if he didn't have a 
relationship with you?  Now, let's adjourn to the living room."

She sat on the couch.  He handed her a document and held another 
copy.  He sat backwards on a straight chair facing her while she 
read it:
                                                                                <p class="tiny">This story, and a hundred others, is availble for free without annoying advertising at: /~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm</p>

    Contract Between Jonathan Quirk and Melissa Brandon

    Melissa Brandon (Melissa) needs and desires direction 
    with respect to her private life.  Jonathan Quirk 
    (Jonathan) undertakes to provide that direction.  This 
    contract will not apply to the decisions she makes for 
    her employers, but will govern all her other decisions.

    In return for that direction, Melissa agrees and 
    promises that:

    1)    Melissa will obey Jonathan in all things.

    2)    Melissa will keep herself sexually available to 
    Jonathan and sexually unavailable to all other persons.

    3)    Melissa will speak respectfully to Jonathan at all 
    times.  
    Melissa will address Jonathan as "Jonathan" except that, 
    (A) She will address him as "Mr. Quirk" when she is 
    aware of being overheard by someone of whom she 
    reasonably believes Jonathan is unaware.
    (B) She will address him as "sir" when Jonathan has 
    given her specific permission to do so.

    4)    Melissa will tell Jonathan the truth at all times. 

    5)    Melissa will provide Jonathan with a key to her 
    condominium and to any outer doors for which she has the 
    key.

    6)    Melissa will store a diaphragm to her prescription 
    and any necessary ancillaries in Jonathan's apartment.  

    7)    Melissa will wear stockings and a garter belt 
    whenever she knows she will be on a date with Jonathan 
    unless he has told her that other garb is appropriate 
    for the date.  Melissa will not wear pantyhose or 
    panties unless the situation before the date requires 
    that she do so.  If Melissa wears either or both of 
    these when going on the date, she will change at the 
    earliest convenient moment.  She will keep at least one 
    garter belt and pair of stockings in her office in case 
    Jonathan invites her out when she is there.

    Jonathan will decide everything else having to do with 
    Melissa's relationship with him.  Jonathan may suspend 
    or revoke any of these rules when he chooses to do so.


There was a space for both their signatures.

                                                                                <p class="tiny">This story, and a hundred others, is availble for free without annoying advertising at: /~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm</p>
He handed her a pen.  She signed the copy she was holding and, 
when he'd handed her the other, that one.  She noticed that he'd 
already signed the copy he'd been holding.  Last, he signed the 
copy she'd read first.

"Now," he asked, "do you have any questions?"

"'Jonathan?' not 'Master'?"  That was strange.  Every dominant 
man was called 'Master.'

"'Master' is a bit much.  Play acting.  Besides, somebody 
in earshot won't get suspicions about your calling me 'Jonathan.'  
Anyway, it's my choice; and you've signed a contract saying that 
my choice goes."  Yes, she had.

"Will we meet here?"  Let's hope.  Her condo was getting a little 
close to her business life, and her office was worse.  She tried 
to keep a distance between her work life and her private life.

"Among other places.  The people at your office know I'm an 
acquaintance of yours.  I've picked you up there for dates.  How 
good an acquaintance, they don't know -- and it's none of their 
damn business.  You'll need some other things here -- not much, 
and some of them I'll give you.  A change or two of clothing, 
toothbrush and hairbrush, that sort of thing.  I've cleared off 
one shelf of the medicine cabinet for you."  He got up and joined 
her on the couch. 

His first kisses were gentle.  When his tongue explored her 
mouth, his hand explored her naked vulva.  She was highly excited 
when he suddenly stood up.  "This will ruin that skirt," he said.  
"Here."  She took his outstretched hand, and he helped her up.  
He led her into the bedroom.  His bed was stripped to a bottom 
sheet.  Something less than a foot on the right side of the 
bedroom closet was empty.

"The right side of the closet is for your things," he said.  "You 
see that there is space on the shelf above it.  Leave on your 
shoes."  And, with him watching her, she stripped and hung up her 
clothes.  She put the bra on the shelf.  "Put the earrings on 
that shelf, too."  She put them and her watch where she'd been 
told to.

"Now," he said, "my clothes.  You can put them on that chair."  
She removed his shirt.  "Shoes first," he said when she reached 
for his belt.  She knelt, conscious that she was wearing only 
shoes, stockings, and garter belt.  She untied his laces, helped 
him off with shoes and socks, and stood again.  When she unbelted 
and unzipped his trousers, he stepped out of them.  His erection 
was tenting his boxers.  She could see it quiver as she lowered 
the shorts.  He took off his own wristwatch.

He took her shoes when she lay down on the bed.  While his tongue 
invaded her mouth, he stroked the insides of her nylon-clad 
thighs.  As his mouth strayed lower, his hand strayed higher.  
She had her first orgasm while he was sucking a nipple and 
stroking her clitoris.  The only respite he gave her was to 
switch nipples.

His finger brought her second orgasm by rubbing the top of her 
vagina.  She was nearing her third when he climbed between her 
legs.  His stroke drove him all the way into her.  Pressed deep 
inside, he moved back and forth against her outside vulva while 
shifting his hands to reach her breasts.  He teased her nipples 
while stroking in and out.

On her third orgasm, he pinched both nipples.  She rocketed 
higher while he continued to stroke within her spasms.  He 
shifted his hands back on the bed and raised his upper body.  He 
finished like that, driving in and out of her while staring into 
her eyes.  

After she saw his grimace and felt him throb inside her, he bent 
one arm and rolled off her.  Minutes later, he turned off the 
overhead light from beside the bed.  Then he pulled a sheet and 
light blanket up to cover them both.

<span>This story, and a hundred others, is availble for free without annoying advertising at: /~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm</span> 

When his alarm woke them, he climbed out of bed without a word to 
her.  She heard the toilet flush and then the shower run.  "Time 
to get up," he said when he returned.  "You don't need those," he 
said when she headed towards the closet.  "You do need a shower."

When she got back from her bathroom time, he was dressed in 
slacks and shirt.  He was still barefoot, though.  "Here," he 
said and handed her an apron.  "I'll get you the bacon and the 
eggs.  Mine are two, over easy."

"I don't cook."  She did put on the apron, though.  It covered 
her very thoroughly in front but left a gap in back. 

"That's all right.  Anybody can cook bacon and eggs.  Bacon 
first."  Actually, she needed less instruction than he gave her.  
She was conscious during the entire process that he could see her 
vulva through the gap in the apron.  "Hang the apron on the hook 
over there by the door," he said when she brought the two plates 
over.  They ate across from each other at his kitchen table, she 
stark naked. 

After breakfast, he had her bend over with her back parallel to 
the floor and her hands on a chair while he ran a carpenter's 
tape measure from the floor to her navel.  He didn't explain why.  
"Bring your handbag here," he said.  Then, when she had, "Which 
of these credit cards has the largest outstanding balance?"

"Probably this one."  She took out her Visa Gold.

"Give it to me.  I want this card paid off by the end of this 
year.  And don't run up any higher balances on your other cards 
than you already have."  She was an accountant, for Christ's 
sake.  She knew how much credit was reasonable to have.  But he 
wasn't asking; he was telling.

Okay, he was in control.  And she'd had more orgasms last night 
than she had most weeks, and more intense ones than she had some 
years.  Both of these were enjoyable, but she needed more.  When 
was he going to punish her?  "Why should I obey you?"

"Melissa!  You think I'm going to spank you if you sass me.  Why 
should I?  You want to be spanked, but I don't want to be sassed.  
Now, get dressed.  We need to get you some tennis shoes."

She almost refused.  But he was stubborn enough to keep his word.  
And having him in control was exciting.  "Tennis shoes, Master?"

He cleared his throat.  "Jonathan, I mean," she said.  "I don't 
wear tennis shoes."

"You will here.  Put on the stockings, they won't let you try on 
shoes without them."  They dressed in the bedroom, Jonathan 
putting on socks and shoes.

He selected shoes for her with remarkably high ankles, and then 
another set of shoestrings and a pair of slippers.  The clerk's 
sitting on the low stool to measure her foot reminded her that 
she wasn't wearing any panties.  He probably couldn't see 
anything -- she didn't let shoe salesmen see her panties, after 
all.  Still, the possibility excited her.  Jonathan paid for the 
purchases and for lunch afterwards.  He seemed in no hurry to 
return her to her condo; he took her to an art museum after 
lunch.

From there, he drove them to his apartment.  "Why don't you strip 
while I clean off the table?" he asked.  There were plenty of 
reasons not to strip, but it really hadn't been a question.  
"Take off the stockings as well."

"Okay," he said, when she came out naked, "now see if you can put 
on these shoes without stockings on your feet."  She managed to 
get the tennis shoes on, although it was harder than it had been 
when she was wearing nylons.  For some reason, the laces skipped 
one set of holes, and the extra laces were threaded through those 
holes.

"Now," his tone signaled a major change of subject.  "You saw the 
bit in our contract about my suspending the rules?"

"Yes.  Yes, Jonathan.  I did."

"Well, I suspend the rule requiring you to tell the truth.  And 
you may address me as 'sir.'  Have you been a good girl?"

"No, Mas...  no, sir.  I haven't."

"Come over to the table."  He tied the extra shoelace in her left 
shoe to one table leg.  "Spread your legs more.  You need to have 
your right foot next to the other table leg."  He tied that foot.  
"Bend over and lean on the table."  When she did, he spanked her.  

He took a break from the spanking to play with her nipples.  
"Stay bent over," he said when she started to rise.  He went back 
to spanking her.  He had a hard hand, but the blows didn't 
compare to the pain from Master's whip.  He moved over to stand 
on her right and began stroking the insides of her thighs.  His 
next blow was a surprise.

He'd spank her, stroke her vulva, spank her again.  The process 
started to excite her.  When her orgasm began, he hit her harder 
than he had before.  The spanking during her orgasm *hurt* but 
that only added to her ecstasy.

"Stay there," he said when she finally collapsed.  He went into 
his bedroom briefly.  He didn't seem to be wearing anything when 
he came out, though she could only see glimpses between her legs.  
He stroked her sore butt cheeks.  "Poor ass," he said, "poor 
innocent ass which has to suffer for Melissa's faults."  She felt 
fire across he butt at the same time she heard a 'crack.'  She 
looked between her legs to see a belt swinging towards her.  The 
second stroke hurt worse than the first.

"Ow!" she said and struggled to straighten up.

"Stay where you are."  He pressed down with one hand as the 
other swung the belt again.  She sank down with her head resting 
on her hands and sobbed.  "Poor ass," he said again.  He stroked 
his fingers across it.  The fingers touched the lips of her vulva 
before the belt struck her again.  It wasn't only her butt which 
suffered.  The belt curled around her left thigh to strike 
hardest against the tender inside.  He patted her butt and rubbed 
her vulva while stepping around to her other side.  Then the belt 
punished the inside of her right thigh.

The blows alternated with caresses while her tension soared.  She 
was almost there, needing only two or three more brushes across 
her clitoris to put her over -- a few strokes with the belt would 
even have accomplished it -- when he stopped.  She was raising 
her head when she felt something cold at the mouth of her vulva.

Then he pressed in.  She could feel him enter her and fill her.  
Then one of his hands went to her left breast as the other 
touched her vulva.  "Oh yes," she said.  As she went over, he 
began to stroke in and out.  He grabbed both thighs ad pulled her 
back against him as his orgasm followed hers.  

He rested against her for a moment, pressing her down until her 
breasts were crushed against the table top.  After he 
straightened and withdrew, he walked over to the garbage pail 
and threw the condom in.  

He went into the bathroom and back to the bedroom.  He was 
dressed again before he untied her from the table legs.  "Where 
is your car?" he asked.

"At a parking garage near my work."  He'd said to call him 'sir.'  
"At a parking garage near my work, sir."

"Can you get in on a Saturday afternoon?"

"I'm sure."

"Shower and dress.  I'll drive you there."

And so he did.  Not hearing when she would see him again was a 
worse discomfort than sitting on her bruises.



The End
2 Minds Meet
Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2003/11/13


This is one of a series of four stories about 
Melissa and Jonathan.

The next story in the series is:
3-french.txt
"3 French Hens"

The first story in the series is:
1-care.txt
"1 Careless Moment"


The directory to all my stories in this format 
can be found at:
index.txt