The mistress�s revenge

Chapter 10 - mistress

Like most things involving Stephen, I had no idea what he was going to do. I definitely had not idea whether he would ring me when he came back from Russia.
A lot could have happened in the intervening period. For one thing, Ginge may have found out he had been cheating and curtailed his freedom somewhat.
He could have been genuinely busy with his Russian band and forgotten all about me. I very much doubted this was the case. I had not seen him working, but I got the impression that he did not know what a full hard day's work was like. He certainly had no inkling of what I did every day. A non-medical person might experience an emergency incident once in a life time. As a medic, I dealt with it every day. I saw death and dying on a daily basis. Of course, that had to have an impact on my psyche.
Stephen made me forget all that. As he saw it, life revolved around him. People did what they told him to do because he was so charismatic and handsome. Unfortunately, I had to include myself in that category...
I hoped he would ring me when he came back. I wanted to see how he would react to not being in charge any more.

I actually thought he had forgotten about me. I had certainly pushed him to the back of my mind. I had just come in from doing the weekly shop six months later when he rang me.
He claimed he'd had an amazing, but difficult time in Russia. He said he had been almost arrested by the KGB, for hawking fake jeans in Red Square. (I would not have put it passed him to do this, although I knew that it was highly unlikely. Did the KGB still exist after the fall of the Iron Curtain?) He said the band he had gone to see were rubbish. He did not want to represent them. He could not understand the lingo, he hated the food. He couldn't even read anything because all of that was in Russian.
He said he'd come back after a fortnight. He'd taken a week off to re-acclimatise himself to Britain, then he'd scouted around the local clubs looking for a new band to represent. He thought he'd found one, with potential, invested in them (where did he get that money from?), he'd found them a suitable manager, got them a recording contract and took them down to London for a photo shoot. He said he'd given a lot of creative input, especially for their video. He'd got their new single reviewed in the music press. It had even got to number 50 in the rock charts. He said he'd pulled a few strings and got them to go on tour as a support with Magnum.
By the time he'd got to that point, I'd stopped listening. There could only have been one shred of truth in the whole story.
He claimed he was heading for great things. He thought he was going to be rich and famous one day. I was much more pessimistic about his future and predicted financial and professional disaster! Why? Well, he was not dedicated enough. He was full of bravado, with nothing concrete to back him up.
I felt sorry for his parents. Had they subsidised him yet again? How many times had they bailed him out? How many times would they have to bail him out in the future?
He should have stuck to being a mountain guide, but then again, that did not earn him the money and prestige that he craved.

I had to make sure he was ringing me because he really wanted me as his mistress. I was not going to mess about anymore. I had been hurt too many times. I'd had enough of his tall stories.
He knew I knew him too well to fall for his usual flannel, but the thought of having a sexy mistress all to himself really turned him on. Dancing around in a basque, stockings and suspenders had only been a taster, I warned him.
If I saw him again, he would HAVE to do EVERYTHING that I wanted him to do, no matter how strange, no matter the consequences.
I knew he was going weak at the knees in anticipation. He agreed breathlessly. Could I come over on Tuesday when Gloria was away?
I was working on that day, unfortunately, but I agreed to it because I was sure someone would swap, even at short notice.
Stephen was not going to know what had hit him. He was going to see a side of me that I had never shown him. He was going to get a BIG shock!
In the intervening days, I got myself ready, preparing a bag of tricks to take with me.
On the day in question, I got up early to prepare myself. I wore the basque and stockings again, with the boots. On top of that I wore something so ordinary and unsexy. I can't remember exactly what it was, other than to say it was a knee length dress with a high neckline and long sleeves.
While Stephen was in Moscow, I had taken the plunge and bought my first car. I had learned to drive years ago. It was saving me a fortune in taxi fares and it was so much more convenient than getting the bus all the time. It was nothing very flash - a second hand Metro.
I loaded the car up, got in and made my way over to see Stephen. On the way, I stopped off at McDonald's as usual, then parked the car at the end of the street out of sight of the house. I wanted him to think I'd come on the bus. Besides which, parking a car directly outside the house would have caused him to panic.

He greeted me in his usual way, pulling me over the threshold and saying nothing until the door was shut and the curtains were closed.
If I was the neighbours, I would be questioning why he felt he needed to draw the downstairs curtains during the day when his partner was away...
He felt the stiffness of the corsetry through my clothing when he put an arm around my waist. He smiled even more when he noticed the McDonald's bag.
I gave him his happy meal and watched him tear into it enthusiastically. It did not take long for him to finish. By that time I had taken off my dress. I stood where he could see me. I bent over, wiggling my bum in the air as I reached in my bag for my riding crop. I wiggled it about in the air a few times, tapped the palm of my hand with the slim, bendy end. Threatened to discipline him with it if he was not a good boy and did as he was told.
Stephen was loving this!
Then I took a second happy meal out of my bag and instructed him to eat it.
He looked at me as if it was a joke. He opened his mouth the question me, but I slammed the crop on the table. It made a loud crack as it hit the surface. I raised my voice. "Eat!" I demanded. "Do you want to feel the sting of this crop across your bare backside?" I waited for him to reply.
He looked at me timidly, "n...n...no" he replied.
I looked at his directly in the face, "in future, when you address me, you will call me mistress! Is that clear?"
He was so shocked, yet aroused that his reply was only a whisper, "yes, mistress."
I stood up, making sure he go a view of my breasts as I did so. "Eat!" I repeated.
He started eating the second meal. He did not complain, but he found it a struggle.
I insisted that he ate the whole thing. I threatened him with the whip, every time he said he'd had enough.
I lifted up his tee shirt. His belly was protruding somewhat, the skin was tight. I laid a hand on it, stroked it gently. I felt him shiver at my touch on his tender flesh.
I pulled his chair around so that I could sit facing him, astride his knees. The position gave him an excellent view of my breasts. I put both hands on his belly, stroked it gently then massaged it. He was already aroused. I took his arousal to the next level, before I led him upstairs to the bedroom and allowed him to discharge his seed inside me.
After a rest and a nap, I made him get up and go downstairs naked. His belly was still a bit swollen. I made him stand in front of a full length mirror and look at himself. I pointed out the roundness of his belly. I encouraged him to take note of it's size... because it was never going to be this small again!
He stared at me in horror. He stepped out of character for a minute. He had not agreed to this!
I refreshed his poor memory. He had agreed to do ANYTHING I wanted him to do. He had better get used to it. I pulled out a cake from my bag and cut him a large slice. I poured him a large glass of milk to wash it down with. He needed to eat at least two slices, or he would be in trouble.
Stephen stared at the cake, stared at me. He knew he could not get out of it, at least not today anyway.
He started to eat again. After two slices of cake, his belly could not stretch any more. His eyes were glazed over with the euphoria of overeating.
I helped him up and made him comfortable on the extra, large sofa. He drifted back off to sleep. While he was in that state, I found his keys in one of his pockets, dashed out to the car with them and found the nearest locksmith to make a copy.
By the time he opened his eyes he did not even know I had been out!
That evening I got a Chinese takeaway delivered to the house. Stephen may have still felt bloated from earlier on, but he had not finished eating for the day.
The portions from the Chinese were large. He would usually only eat half. Today, he had to eat the whole thing!
Again, it was a struggle to get through it all for him, but he did manage eventually.
Before I left, I made him stand in front of the mirror again. Look how bloated he looked! Look how round and hard his stomach was now. I told him to note how it felt. He was going to have to get used to the feeling because I wanted him to overeat every day, well, as long as the ginge bitch wasn't about.

I'm sure that Stephen only paid me lip service to get me out of the door. He had no intention of asking me over ever again. It was a regime he could not stick to, or he was bound to get fat! I'm sure he thought I'd gone too far. But he did not know that I had only just started! He had given his free will over to me. I would MAKE him do what I wanted!