Paula knelt, naked on a bare wooden floor, head bowed, hands on her thighs. She was lit by a single spotlight from above; a pool of light for her to kneel in.

James entered, dressed in a dark suit and white shirt. He took his jacket off and hung it on a chair that stood near the wall, then came to stand at the edge of the pool of light, facing Paula, who did not raise her head or move in any other way when James came in.

Kate, kneeling also, naked also, but with her head up, watched from behind the one-way glass in the small room to which Paula had led her. She wore the wireless earbuds Paula had provided. She did not know what was about to happen. Paula had given her instructions but had told her nothing of what she might see or experience.

Paula took something from the floor and offered it to James. Two spots of white on her outstretched palm. Another set of earbuds. James took them, looking at Paula quizzically, and nestled them into his ears.

Paula touched something on the floor near where she was kneeling-her phone, presumably-and Kate heard her voice. She assumed James heard it too.

"Master," Paula's voice said, "this is a recording. I know this is highly unusual and I hope you'll indulge me. I also want to let you know that we have a witness today"-at this he raised his eyebrows a bit, and a small smile touched his lips-"which is also unorthodox, though not entirely unprecedented. If, Sir, you have any objection to what I've said so far, say so and I will stop the playback and clear the observation chamber and we will proceed as we normally do."

James said nothing, thus giving assent to whatever Paula had planned.

"Thank you, Master," she said. Kate thought her voice sounded calm and deferential but also infused with a note of tension or excitement.

"I must give our guest a bit of background," Paula said. "Simply put, last night Master texted me the single word 'shoes.' This told me that I was to be here, as you see me, at this hour today. If this were a normal 'shoes' day, I would then serve Master with my mouth, after which he would depart in silence. Neither of us would speak at all. This is a ritual we have developed over time, and I think it is one we both cherish. I know I do."

Kate-kneeling, watching, listening-felt a stirring along her skin. Gooseflesh, and tightening nipples, and an ache in her lower belly. A watering of her mouth.

"What I have realized lately is that while I am serving Sir as I do, my mind is visited by all sorts of thoughts for which I would like to find words. I'm not sure if this is a good thing; I do understand that the service we perform for our masters is meant to empty our minds in a way that is meditative and rejuvenating. But these thoughts have grown stronger over time, and I think I ought to share them. And if that's wrong, if there is a cost to me for doing so, well, I'll accept that."

Paula leaned forward slowly until her breasts touched the floor and her head was resting on one of James's black shoes.

"To make this recording," she said, "I went through this ritual in my mind's eye-I relived it very intensely in my imagination and simply tried to give voice to my thoughts."

James nodded slightly-not that Paula could see. But she could feel his acceptance of her change in the ordinary course of their ritual.

"Your shoes, to begin with," she said. "The dark shine of them excites me. The smell of the leather and the polish you use. The taste when I kiss and lick them." She was kissing and licking them now, Kate saw.

"To kiss a man's shoes... to lick them like a kitten... surely that is one of the most subservient things one can do," Paula said. "But to me it's also an act of power, if only because so few women would do it. So few would crave it as I do, or begin to understand how truly liberating such subservience can be.

"Our guest does not need to be told such things. But I will tell her of another of our rituals-when Master says 'shoeshine,' then sits in a chair with his feet extended, and I am allowed to spread my legs and rub myself on his shoes, streak them with my wet cunt-oh the smooth leather and the rough crisscross of the laces! I am allowed to take the tips of them into my cunt and ride them, to build an orgasm from that, to look into Sir's face and let him watch my eyes cloud and my body shudder as I cum that way." There was a pause, and Kate's cunt clenched in the silence. "And then," Paula said, "when I return to my senses, I am allowed to use my hair to polish Sir's shoes to a soft, perfect luster."

Kate's hands went to her breasts then, and her legs spread wider as she knelt.

Paula rose back to her kneeling position and slid her body closer to James's. Her hands, her fingertips ran up and down his thighs; she used her palms to trace his hard cock through his trousers. She used her mouth too, opening it wide and running it the length of him where he strained against the fabric.

"Cock," her voice said. "Your cock. Sir's cock. My Master's cock." It was strange to hear her voice when her mouth was occupied. "I realize now that I am speaking these thoughts that I often don't hear such a specific word in my head. It's more a welter of words like hard and heat and him and need and a thing beyond words, a worshipful impulse that fills my body and guides my hands and mouth. I like to feel the shape of you through your pants, Master. The length and thickness of your shaft, the well-defined ridge of the head-oh, God, that ridge, created for me to curl my tongue around-and the way you quiver when I open my mouth wide and send my warm breath through the thin fabric and into your skin. That tender skin, that tracery of veins. Cockskin. Cockflesh. Cocksoul. Erection. Hard-on. The throb of you. This thing I have made. I do get that feeling sometimes. That I have made it. Or made it appear, at any rate. Called it forth."

Paula was unzipping him now and easing his cock into the light-pale and seemingly hard as marble and trembling against the dark background of his trousers. She sat back and gazed up at him, touching him ever so lightly with her fingertips, then touching her own breasts, cupping them as she looked at him.

"It's beautiful," she said softly. "I always think that and I never say it, but I want to. Your cock is beautiful, Master. It's lovely. It's even pretty. I did say it to you once and you laughed and said something offhand like 'You see one, you've seen them all,' because I guess straight men feel the need to be modest when praised for beauty, especially cock beauty. But it is beautiful, Sir, and there are not very many beautiful things you can take in your mouth and worship, and that is what I intend to do."

Paula reached between her legs for a moment, slipped two fingers into her cunt and brought them up dripping to show her master. "My worship and praise," her voice said, and at that James's cock gave a very visible lurch, and at *that* Kate's fingers went to her own cunt, which was as wet, if not more so, than Paula's.

Paula licked James, sweetly and slowly at first, then with more intensity. She stroked him with her right hand while her left cupped his balls. She sealed her lips around the head of his cock and held him that way, her face tipped upward, her eyes on his.

"In some ways, this is very... routine," she said. "My mouth and hands know your cock so well. My body knows this supplicant position. My tongue knows this spot-this one, where my tongue is fluttering right now, the spot beneath your cockhead, the spot where all the nerve endings come together. The spot that makes your knees weak and shaft thicken and your balls tighten. But I don't mean routine in a negative sense. It's comfort. Deep comfort. Deep comfort plus a slow-building excitement and arousal and anticipation.

"And there comes a point, Master, where you are no longer content to let me tease and play with you-when your need reaches a certain level of urgency, and your hands go to my head, your fingers twine themselves in my hair. Control shifts in that moment from me to you. You guide my head, you *master* it, you use your hands to get your cock deeper in my mouth, to get it into my throat.

"It is that moment"-and as Paula said this it happened, James took her head in both his hands and drove himself deeply into her, and Kate found that as she watched she was sucking two fingers of her left hand and pushing two fingers of her right hand into her cunt-"it is at this moment that your name changes. You are no longer Master, no longer Sir or James; when the thick heat of you enters my throat, you are Daddy. and I am always, always at this moment silently begging you in the most desperate fashion.

"Daddy, I say-and I have to say it with my eyes, they're all I have to speak with-Daddy, use me. Use your whore. Fuck my mouth, Daddy, fuck my throat, take my breath and replace it with your flesh, it feels as if I can live on that. Push my head down until you're completely buried in me, until the teeth of your zipper bite at my soft lips. Ohhh Daddy, use me. Use your fucktoy. Use your whore."

There was silence on the recording for a moment, and silence in the small room where Kate knelt, and in that silence she had her first orgasm, biting her lip as she came on her fingers. At the same time, in the pool of light beyond the one-way glass, James pulled Paula's head away from his cock so that she could breathe. She panted, filaments of saliva connecting her mouth and his cock.

"You do know when I need to breathe air," her voice said. "And you love to look down at me-breathing hard, my chest wet with the mixture of my drool and your precum, my lips already puffy and tender from being wrapped so tightly around your cock. Your cock-cock, cock, cock, Daddy's beautiful cock, warm cock, imagination-seizing cock, life-giving cock. I can't stop saying it, or touching it, stroking it slowly, softly as I catch my breath, as I gather myself for its next... I almost said onslaught, but that's not what I really mean. It isn't warlike. Well, maybe it is somewhat. But it needs its own word. Enthroatment? I don't know. I'm just free-associating for a moment. I'm almost ready to take you again. But first-my prayer. You didn't know it was a prayer, but that's how I think of it."

Kate watched as Paula, still holding James's cock in her hand, leaned toward it with closed eyes and held the head of it against her right eyelid, then her left. "I love to feel it there," she said, "your big warm hard/tender slick/satiny cockhead nestling in my eye sockets, blessing my eyes, blessing my sight. Because soon I will have the vision I crave, soon I will look up at my Master as he cums for me, I will see his ecstasy as I feel it and taste it, his joy, the expression of his deepest need, beyond words, mine."

With that he was in her mouth again, in her throat, his hands once again controlling. "It is a prayer because this is where we enter a realm where the sacred and the profane meet and dance and blend and quite possibly change places. I feel blessed and exalted with your beauty in my throat, I feel the way I imagine someone with a vocation feels, chosen and called and put to use. We are flesh but also spirit; we are mere creatures but also shining movements of light and grace. I hope you feel it too, Master-and you, our guest. But at the same time, even as I feel that way, I feel-and I love this, I seem to need it, I seek it and embrace it-I feel like the filthiest whore on earth. I am ecstatically degraded. I might as well be down on my knees in some back alley, Daddy, sucking you off for spare change. As you fill my mouth and throat I am desperately begging you with my eyes: Give me your cum, Daddy, give me your load, your spunk, your jizz, shoot it down your cumslut's throat. Over and over I beg and plead, silent and urgent, sucking, licking, moaning, rubbing my cunt with one hand, spanking it, twisting my nipples with the other, begging needing pleading, completely abject, unwilling to live without what only Daddy's cock can give me-"

Kate came again, harder, her whole body shuddering. James and Paula were cumming as well, together, Paula's voice silent, James's groan coming through the wall. He held her head tightly, her forehead against his abdomen, as he emptied himself into her. Tears streamed from her eyes as she writhed on her knees, her skin flushed, her whole being, it seemed to Kate, concentrated on not letting a single drop of James's seed escape her mouth.

The light above James and Paula went out then, and all was blackness. Kate, panting, her skin sheened with perspiration, her skin flushed, her cunt still buzzing, heard a new sound: the opening of the door to the room she was in. Before she could wonder what was happening, a light came on above her head. She was now kneeling in a pool of light, as Paula had been, and Paula herself was standing at the edge of the pool. James, presumably, was still in his darkened room, watching.

Paula now knelt in front of Kate, so that their breasts were almost touching. She looked at Kate's face with a peaceful and slightly quizzical expression. In Kate's earbuds, she heard Paula's voice. "Friend," it said. "Thank you for being here. For witnessing our ritual." Paula took Kate's chin delicately in her right hand. She tilted Kate's head upward and to the side. She kissed her mouth. "Dear one," said her voice in Kate's ears, and as they kissed Paula shared her master with Kate. His silken seed flowed between them, it flowed out of their mouths as they kissed, falling onto their breasts, running down their skin, fragrant, warm, an exquisite gift. They kissed, and kissed. No words were spoken now. The light above them slowly faded, and just before it went completely dark, Paula's voice was heard once more. "I wonder," she said quietly, "if something new has been created here today. That would be an answer to my prayer."

[the end]

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