The Making of a Mistress Pt. 03

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Author’s note: This fictional series about a character first introduced in my “Coming Home; Coming Out” serial continues with Marie, now engaged, is going to meet Charles’s parents. She also takes Charles to meet her mentor, Dr Sara Walters and her sissy cuckold, Paula. As in all of my work, every character is over 18 years of age, and all sexual practices are performed consensually.

The Making of a Mistress. Chapter 3: Meeting No. 2 (Mummy) and a weekend away

“Are you sure that I look alright?” Marie asked for the sixth or seventh time since they’d left her flat to come and see Charles’s parents, to tell them that a date had finally been fixed for the wedding.

“You look beautiful, as ever,” Charles reassured her, adding, “you are normally so confident and decisive. Does the prospect of meeting my parents unsettle you that much?”

“I must admit that I didn’t get much sleep last night,” Marie admitted.

“Neither did I,” chuckled Charles, “but I suspect the reason for my insomnia was a lot different than yours.”

Marie smiled.

“You’ll get used to it,” she said casually. “After all, it has only been just over a fortnight, and I did promise you that if you’re a good boy, I might take it off for a while when we go and visit Dr Sara and her sissy next weekend.”

Marie was referring to the silicon cock lock that she had made Charles buy when she had taken him shopping recently. She had selected a variety of sex toys and punishment implements, which Charles had been delighted to pay for. He’d been wearing the cock lock ever since, and thanks to Marie’s teasing and occasional touching, his tiny scrotum was now swollen, very tender and the ache was a constant reminder of the fact that Marie now owned his cock and balls.

“Here we are, home at last,” said Charles, signalling left and turning the car into a wide, tree lined drive. To Marie’s astonishment, the drive was at least half a mile long, so that when Charles eventually stopped the car in front of a magnificent detached manor-house, the sound of the traffic on the busy main road they had just left could hardly be heard at all.

“Fuck me sideways!” said Marie in awe, “this looks like a Queen Anne Regency cottage!”

Charles looked at her in admiration.

“You are spot on,” he said smiling at her. “Most people haven’t got a clue as to the old place’s heritage. Father’s great, great grandfather bought it sometime in the eighteenth century, not long after he’d founded the bank.”

“Mummy and father have made some alterations, but basically it hasn’t altered significantly in nearly three hundred years!”

“It’s magnificent” breathed Marie.

Charles bounded out of the car and opened Marie’s door for her. He helped her out of the car and smiled at her.

“You’re going to be wonderful,” he assured her. “Mummy’s going to love you!”

Marie had her doubts about that, but she kept them to herself. She looked at the carved nameplate on the wall and smiled.

“Tara?” she said, looking at Charles. “How very ‘Gone With The Wind’!”

“It’s Father’s favourite film,” Charles explained, “although Mummy tells everyone that it stands for “Theodora and Roderick’s Abode”.

As they approached the front door, it opened and Marie thought that she’d stepped onto the set of Downton Abbey. It was Carson, the butler!

On looking more closely, Marie realised that the young man who had opened the door looked nothing like the actor who played Carson, despite being dressed exactly like him.

“Good morning, Master Charles. Good morning Miss,” he said formally, holding the front door open so that they could enter.

“Good morning, Sebastian,” said Charles brightly. “This is Miss Marie Adams, my fiancée.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Miss,” smiled Sebastian. “May I take your coat, Miss?”

He helped Marie off with her coat, and in doing so, it seemed to Marie that he deliberately brushed the back of his hand up against her tit. She looked at him sharply, but his face was a mask of innocence.

“Master Charles?” he said ignoring Marie’s stare.

He took Charles’s coat and hung it up with Marie’s in a large cupboard just inside the front door.

He turned back to address them both.

“Mrs.North-Thompkins is in the conservatory, Master Charles. She instructed me to ask you and your guest to join her there.”

“Thanks Sebastian,” said Charles, taking Marie’s hand. “Let’s go and tell Mummy that we’ve arrived,” he smiled at her, “and afterwards, I’ll give you a tour of the place if you’re interested?”

As they walked across the wide hallway, Marie whispered,

“A butler? In this day and age? You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

Charles grinned at her.

“You mean you don’t want a butler at home when we’re married?” he teased.

“Not if he’s anything like that creep,” Marie retorted. “The bastard rubbed my tit!”

Charles looked at her in consternation.

“Did he? I’ll tell Mummy and she’ll give him a roasting!” he said indignantly.

“No, don’t bother,” replied Marie. “I dare say it was accidental, bursa escort and I don’t want your mother to think that you’re marrying a slapper who allows any old Tom, Dick or Harry to grope her tits!”

They walked through a beautifully appointed sitting room, which was smaller than a football pitch, but not by much. Marie felt her heels sink into the thick pile of the carpet, which she estimated probably cost more than she earned in a year.

Charles opened the door, and they proceeded down another corridor and came at last to the entrance to the conservatory.

This was obviously one of the ‘alterations’ that Charles had spoken about earlier. Built onto the original outer brick wall, it was marginally smaller than the room that they had just come through, and was constructed of three walls of tinted glass which looked out onto a magnificent garden.

Charles led Marie into the light and airy room, and looked around. Seated on a dark green leather sofa, Marie had her first glimpse of the woman who was to be her mother-in-law.

She had a thick mane of beautifully styled silver grey hair. Her face was thin with high cheekbones and full lips. She stood up as they approached, and Marie saw that she was shorter than her, and thin, to the point of emaciation.

She was wearing a fitted dress that Marie estimated would have cost a fortune, and apart from a wedding band, the only other adornment that could be seen was a triple strand of pearls around her rather scrawny throat.

Charles took her in his arms and kissed her, European style, on her cheeks, left, right and left again.

“Hello, Mummy!” he said lovingly. “It’s lovely to see you looking so fit and well. How are you?”

“I’m very well, thank you Charles,” she said, “if a little bit amazed still since hearing your news.”

She turned and smiled at Marie, extending a hand to take Marie’s and shake it.

“How do you do, my dear?” she said warmly. “My word, you’re a brave girl, taking on a handful like Charles!”

“I’m very well, thank you, Mrs. North-Thompkins” replied Marie. “This is a beautiful house. You must love living here!”

“Did you see the appalling name my husband gave this house?” she asked scornfully. “Who in their right mind would want to live in a place named after the home of a slave running plantation owner?”

“No more of this Mrs. North-Thompkins nonsense either, my dear. I’ll address you as Marie, and you may call me Mummy. If we get on, I may allow Theodora. My intimate friends call me Dora.”

“Even though I’m marrying Charles, and joining your family,” Marie said quietly but firmly, “you are not my mother.”

“I’ll address you as Theodora, but seeing as how Charles tells me you have a liking for acronyms, I think Milly might suit you.”

“Milly? What does that stand for, may I ask?”

“Mother-in-Law like you!” responded Marie defiantly.

Charles’s mother turned to her son, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Oh I like her “she said. “She’s got spirit. You’ve got your hands full with this one, Charles.”

She turned back to Marie.

“Milly it is then,” she smiled, taking Marie by the hand and moving back towards the sofa.

“Come and sit by me, my dear. Charles, I think a celebration is in order. Your father is on the bloody golf course as usual, so there’s no point waiting for him.”

“Champagne, I think. Go and get a bottle from the cellar. Don’t hurry back.”

“Surely Sebastian can do that?” Charles protested. “What’s the point of having a butler if he doesn’t buttle?”

“Don’t argue, Charles,” replied his mother sternly. She looked at her wristwatch.

“It is twenty to eleven now,” she informed him. “Go and organise the drinks, and then you may stay in the kitchen and talk to cook. You know she likes you. Don’t come back before eleven o’clock.”

She turned and winked at Marie.

“Dilly here and I have women’s talk to do!”

“Dilly?” repeated Charles, mystified.

“Daughter-in-law like you” chorused Theodora and Marie together. They both burst into laughter, and Charles left to do as he was told, shaking his head in disbelief.

As soon as they were alone, Theodora took Marie’s hand and looked her straight in the eye.

“I like you,” she said sincerely. “Not many people would have put me in my place as you did earlier on.”

“I hope you don’t think I was being impertinent” Marie answered with a smile.

“I’m not that close to my mother, but she’s the only one I will ever have. I think it is wonderful how Charles worships and adores you.”

Theodora smiled.

“Charles needs a strong woman who understands his needs” she said.

“Has he told you about his little peculiarities?”

“The cross dressing and the need to be dominated you mean?” replied Marie.

“Yes, he’s been very open about them. I quite like seeing him in a dress. He needs to have some training, of course, but that’s all in hand, so you have no need to worry about him.”

Marie was astounded by her own confidence. She was telling the woman who would soon be her gürsu escort mother-in-law, a woman whom she’d only just met, that her son was going to marry a woman whose plan was to dominate him and allow him to wear women’s clothes.

“Good,” said Theodora, evidently satisfied that she and Marie understood one another. She changed the subject.

“Tell me, my dear, did Sebastian happen to try and feel your tits as he took your coat when you arrived?”

Marie blushed but admitted the fact that the butler had tried to grope her.

“He’s gone too far this time,” snarled Theodora. “It was bad enough when he stopped groping me and started on my younger friends, all of whom have much bigger tits than I do.”

“He’ll have to go, I’m afraid, but I will miss him. He’s got a really educated tongue and his cock can drive a woman wild!”

“You mean…?” said Marie in amazement. “You’re fucking the butler? Does your husband know? Does Charles know?”

“My husband and I haven’t had any sort of relationship for about twenty years,” Theodora said matter-of-factly.

“He’s only interests these days are making money, playing golf and flirting, and I dare say, fucking, empty headed bimbos whose I Q is less than their bra size. When they bother to wear a bra, that is.”

“I think Roddy suspects that I’m fucking elsewhere, but he doesn’t complain, so we just get on living our separate lives. As to your second question, no, I don’t believe Charles knows.”

“I employed Sebastian after Charles had left home to start work, and he doesn’t come here very often. Do you think I ought to tell him?”

“It’s none of my business who you fuck,” Marie replied in her forthright manner.

“And neither is it any business of Charles’s either. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him!”

Theodora beamed.

“Thank you, my dear. You and I are going to get along famously!”

As the clock struck eleven, the door to the conservatory opened, and Sebastian stood aside to allow Charles to enter. The butler followed Charles in. He was carrying a tray with a bottle of champagne and three flutes.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” smiled Charles. “If you’ll open it, please, I can pour it.”

“Very good, Master Charles,” he said, stripping off the foil and removing the wire cage He twisted the cork which came free of the bottle with a soft pop. Replacing the bottle on the tray, he turned to Charles and asked,

“Will there be anything else, Master Charles?”

“No thank you, Sebastian. That will be all.”

Charles filled the three flutes and handed one each to his mother and to Marie. He picked up the remaining glass and raised it with a smile on his face.

“Here’s to my beautiful bride-to-be,” he said, smiling tenderly at Marie.

She looked at him with a stern face.

“Charles, I distinctly heard your mother tell you not to bother the butler,” said Marie in the tone of voice that Charles had come to know meant trouble.

“Yet you disobey her and waltz in here empty handed and let the butler carry out a task that you had been given!”

Charles blushed furiously, and muttered an apology.

Theodora tutted and shook her head.

“Sorry?” she said incredulously, “Sorry? Do you remember the saying I told you when you came home from school with that filthy bondage magazine all those years ago?”

“Yes, Mummy,” he replied in a very quiet voice. “You said ‘Sorry butters no parsnips in this house, young man’, and you put me over your knee and you spanked me.”

Theodora looked at Marie, and winked at her; a gesture missed by Charles, whose head hung down in shame.

“What do you think, dilly?” she asked mischievously. “Does his behaviour merit a spanking?”

“Indeed it does, milly,” replied Marie with a grin.

“I’ll leave it up to you then, my dear,” said Theodora. “After all, you will be in charge of domestic discipline after you are married.”

Marie put down her champagne flute. She looked steadily at Charles.

“Do you really want to marry me?” she asked.

“More than anything in the world,” he replied.

“With all that that entails? I am going to be in charge, and if you step out of line, you are going to be severely punished. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. I’ll try my best never to let you down. But if I do, I accept that I’ll be disciplined.”

Marie turned to Theodora.

“I don’t suppose you have a cane, or a riding crop, do you?” she asked hopefully.

Theodora shook her head sadly.

“Unfortunately not,” she replied. “I’m disappointed in my son, but I am hopeful that you will soon train him to become a much better slave when you are married.”

Marie turned her attention back to Charles.

“There won’t be time to give you a proper spanking before your lunch meeting,” she said, in a business-like tone of voice.

“And I have to be at the restaurant by half past four for prep and set up. I’ve made a decision. I am going to cane you on Saturday morning. It will take place at hour house, so you’ll need to come and pick me up so orhangazi escort that your punishment can be administered.”

“There is nothing further to be said on the matter. But it will give you time to contemplate your decision to disobey your mother.”

She picked up her glass and drained the last mouthful of champagne.

“Now do something useful, and top me up,” she commanded sternly, holding out her empty flute.

Theodora smiled.

“You are a very lucky young man, Charles,” she told her son.

“Don’t you ever let me learn that you have let her down!”

Charles nodded, then, confused, shook his head.

“I’m so happy,” he confessed, “that I don’t know if I should have answered ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to that last bit. But I promise you Marie, and you too Mummy that from now on I am going to be obedient, submissive and attentive at all times.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” replied his mother smoothly. “Marie here deserves nothing but the best from you.”

“Now, despite your father’s continued absence, we have a wedding date to arrange. Sit down, Charles, and be quiet. Marie and I will let you know the date of your marriage as soon as we have decided on it. In the meantime, speak only when you are spoken to.”

An hour later, Marie and Charles dutifully kissed Theodora goodbye and set out back to her flat. Charles had a lunch appointment, at which, he confidently told Marie proudly, he expected to close a deal which would earn him a bonus which would pay for a sumptuous wedding and honeymoon.

A great deal had been achieved from the meeting, and Marie was relieved that things were beginning to take shape. When Charles dropped her off at the restaurant, on his way to his lunch meeting, Polly the restaurant manager was overjoyed to see her.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here so early,” she smiled, “but am I glad to see you!”

“Jessica’s called in sick again, and we’re really short staffed.”

Marie hurried into the staff room, changed and went to tend the bar area, where office workers were ordering snacks and drinks.

She got rid of the back log, took some orders from the restaurant, cleared tables and re-set them, and before she had time to draw breath, service was over.

Polly brought her a cup of coffee and gave her a hug.

“I don’t know how I would have coped without you, sweetie,” she said, sipping her own coffee.

Marie looked at her and wrinkled her nose.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to after this weekend,” she said. “I came in early to tell you I’m handing in my notice. I’m finishing on Friday.”

“What? Why? Has something happened?” Polly screeched.

Marie wanted to say, “Yes, this morning I met my future mother-in-law who persuaded me that I should concentrate on learning how to dominate her son, whom I’m about to marry.”

“She told me that I understood Charles’s needs and that not being at home twenty four seven would detract from my ambition of becoming a full-time hotwife.”

“That is what I want, so I’m quitting!”

But she didn’t say that. What she actually said was,

“I’m getting married in six weeks and I need some time off to get myself prepared.”

Polly hugged her again.

“Congratulations,” she said, “and remember, if after you’re married and you need to earn a bit of extra cash, there will always be a job here for you.”

“Thanks, Polly,” smiled Marie.

She went into the staff room and had a quick bite to eat, and then set about helping with prep and set up for the evening service.

Later that evening, in the car with Charles on the way home, she related how she had given in her notice, and how upset Polly had been about losing her services.

Charles smiled at her sympathetically.

“I know you love working there,” he said, “and it’s because of me that you are finishing.”

“No,” he said quite firmly when she began to protest, saying that it was the sensible decision, given the circumstances, “I want you to have your independence too.”

“I’ve closed that deal this afternoon. It really wasn’t a hard sell, and I’ve made an obscene amount of money. I have a proposal for you.”

“Another one?” teased Marie. “You’ve already proposed to me once, and I’ve accepted. What on earth can this other proposal be?”

Charles looked at her and grinned.

He parked the car carefully, and jumped out to open Marie’s door for her. Helping her out, he asked,

“May I come in and maybe we could discuss it over coffee?”

“Charles! What sort of girl do you take me for?” she replied in a mock horrified voice.

“I’ve been wanting to get you into my flat late at night for ages. Of course you can come in! If you promise to kiss me indoors, I’ll even let you off our regular doorstep snog!”

She refused his offer to make the coffee, telling him that once she was his hotwife, her intention was to do absolutely nothing as far as housework, cooking, cleaning or shopping was concerned, but until then, she was perfectly able to make her fiancé a cup of coffee.

Charles sat on the settee and waited whilst she brewed the coffee.

When she brought it in he jumped up and pulled the little coffee table closer so that she could set her tray down. When the coffee was poured, and they sat cuddled up together on the settee, Charles outlined his proposal.

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