Mila flushed the toilet and washed her hands. She quietly padded back into the bedroom so as to not wake the girl lying in her bed. It was chilly, and on a hunch, Mila pulled back the curtain slightly to check the weather outside. She was right, it was snowing. Quite hard actually. So winter was finally here.
Gently she slid into bed and pulled up the duvet. It was early and the heating had not turned on yet. Still, it was Saturday morning and there was nothing to rush out of bed for. Work had been stressful this week. A lazy weekend was what she was owed.
The girl moved in her sleep. She let out a small sigh of what sounded like contentment. She reached out and draped an arm over Mila. Feeling Mila’s warmth the girl, still asleep, snuggled in.
Mila stared at the face of the sleeping girl. So young, Mila was nearly twice her age. At thirty-seven Mila did not feel old, but she sometimes wondered what people thought of her, taking a girl under twenty to her bed.
They had met at the hostel. At the time Mila had been recovering from the break up of a ten year marriage. An abusive marriage. Gerard had been a considerate and loving husband at the start. But promotions had passed him by and the drinking started. With Mila earning more than he did, and his life out of his control, he took his frustrations out on his wife. Eventually Mila had run to a shelter. A shelter that had found her a place at the hostel.
The girl yawned and opened her eyes. She looked into Mila’s and smiled. The pure joy in the girls face warmed Mila’s heart.
“Slavin, likken,” Mila whispered at the girl.
“Ja, Meesteres,” responded the girl, as the smile turned into a beaming grin, before her face disappeared under the duvet.
Mila obligingly spread her legs so the girl could do her job more easily. She had a wicked tongue and the stud Mila had paid for had turned it into a potent weapon in the girl's arsenal. In short order Mila was humming with pleasure as her most intimate area was caressed, licked and teased with a skill that defied belief.
After a gentle warm up Mila felt the girl slip some fingers inside her as she shifted her attention to Mila’s clitoris. Mila howled in delight as the girl worked her magic. Her darting tongue now stabbing and flicking at speed. Mila felt the climax build and eventually wash over her. Momentarily losing herself in the delirium of pure joy.
The girl kept going and as Mila recovered from the first orgasm she felt another start to build.
“Speelbal, je bent een prachtige slavin,” praised Mila. Suddenly the iPad on the bedside table started the chime to announce a FaceTime call.
“Kut!” Cursed Mila, not welcoming the interruption. Though it was not much of an interruption as the girl had not missed a stroke. Mila grabbed the iPad wondering aloud, “Wie zou dit vroege noemen?”
She instantly accepted the call, on seeing who it was, to be greeted by the grinning face of Mike Cage.
“Hello Mila, sorry to call so early. Is Su… sorry, is Speelbal there? We have some news.”
“Of course Mike, one moment, Speelbal, mijn liefde, stoppen. Veeg je gezicht. Kom hier, je ouders willen met je praten.”
Speelbal did as she was bid.
A muffled, “Ja, Meesteres,” floated up from under the bedclothes.
Her face, still grinning, emerged from under the duvet. If Mike cage was phased by the sight of his daughter appearing in such a way he hid it well.
“Hi Dad, what’s up?” Asked Speelbal.
“Hello love, your mum and I wondered if you’d like to say hello to your baby brother?” So saying the picture changed from that of a grinning dad to Speelbal’s mum. She was laying in bed with a newborn cradled in her arms.
“Hello Suzanne, love, we’re calling him Robert, after your Granddad.”
“Oh Mum!” cried the girl. “He’s beautiful!” Before dissolving into tears.
“How much does he weigh?” Asked Mila, covering for her lover’s loss of composure.
“Eight and a half pounds Mila. Oh, sorry I don’t know what that is in kilograms.”
“It’s about three point eight, Alice.”
“Oh you are a clever girl, Mila.”
“He looks beautiful, Alice, congratulations. I think Speelbal has got a grip again, I’ll pass you back.”
Still sobbing but at least coherent the younger woman took the iPad. “Mum… Dad… A little warning please, next time. You never said anything. Like how? When? Does Carol know?”
From off camera Speelbal’s dad’s voice replied, “Your mum fell pregnant shortly after you two left for America Su, Speelbal. We didn’t say anything because we didn’t want you worrying. Your mum was quite old to be preggers, and the doctors were full of warnings. When she went into labour it was too late to call, especially since you two are an hour ahead. No, Carol does not know. They’re not picking up. I tried to do a party call.”
“I can’t believe I have a baby brother,” said Speelbal.
“Suzanne, I’ve had nine months to come to terms with this and I can tell you we’re pretty shocked too,” replied Alice.
“Mum, I’m Speelbal now. We’ve discussed this.”
“Sweetie, just over nineteen years go I held a squirming mass of pink even smaller than little Robert here in my arms. I named you Suzanne on that day and Suzanne is what you’ll always be to me. I’m so glad you’ve found Mila, I’m sure she understands.”
The sudden pop of a champagne cork made Speelbal jump. She turned to see Mila approach with two glasses and an open bottle.
“Meesteres! Je hoeft niet te,” protested Speelbal.
“Rustig Speelbal, ik ben Meesteres, herinner,” admonished Mila. “Alice for sure I understand. I will call Suzanne, Speelbal, and you’ll call Speelbal, Suzanne, and we will both love her with all our hearts, Ja.” Mila handed her lover a glass and poured from the bottle.
“Exactly Mila,” replied Alice.
“Do you have drinks there?” Asked Mila.
“Only plastic cups of water Mila,” came back Mike.
“Then we’ll drink for you both. For Robert Cage, may he grow smart and strong like his father, and beautiful too, like his mother, proost!”
Mila downed her drink and Speelbal cried, “Proost,” too as she downed her glass to the echo of proost from her parents.
“Thank you for that. We’ll let you guys go now. I’m trying to preserve the battery so I can call Carol.”
“Congratulations again,” said Mila.
“Love you all,” cried Speelbal as the call ended.
“Ben je oke, slavin?”
“Ja, Meesteres.”
“Hmm perhaps we had better talk in English, slave. For my English is still better than your Dutch and clear communication is important I think.”
“Really, Meesteres, I’m fine. It was great to hear from Mum and Dad and great news too.”
“Yes, but at times like this I think you may feel home sick too?”
“Home is here, Meesteres. I’ve never been so happy as I am here in your collar. The England of my childhood has been destroyed. There is nothing to go back to. I am sad sometimes that my parents cannot come and visit us here. The only good things that came out of the revolution back in England are that I discovered just how much I enjoy being a submissive, and that it drove me away and into your waiting arms.”
“If we could visit your parents safely would you want to?”
“Meesteres, I think they would lock me up the second I stepped on English soil.”
“Suzanne Cage undoubtedly, but Speelbal Van Dijk, citizen of the Netherlands and wife of Mila Van Dijk? That may be different.”
“You would marry me, Meesteres?”
“You are my slave, my love. The collar around your throat is the only metal ring I need to make you mine. But I like to indulge you, and a happy slave is a good thing too. If the steps I mention will allow us to visit England together I would take them. I would like to meet your parents and your new baby brother. Plus it would be fun to see how an Englishman reacts to a foreign dominatrix.”
“I love you, Meesteres.”
“I love you too, slavin.”
Mila then turned to the dressing table and picked up the riding crop that rested there. She gave it a dramatic swoosh through the air before pointing the instrument at Speelbal. “Zet de latex maid uniform op slavin. Je moet sommige schoonmaakmiddelen te doen.”
“Ja, Meesteres,” replied the slave girl, jumping up to obey.
“Ongetwijfeld je zus, en haar knappe echtgenoot, zal een bezoek brengen zodra ze het nieuws horen.”