All The World’s A Stage… Ch. 02

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Babes

Author’s note: The story continues, and I explore further my love of kink, fetish and the theatre. This is a work of pure fiction, and all characters mentioned are aged 18 or over. Every sexual act described is carried out consensually.

The Port Aber Amateur Dramatic Society’s (P. A. A. D. S.) production of Oklahoma! had run its’ full week, and everybody involved was delighted . The committee were pleased that every house had been a sell out, the cast was pleased that nothing serious had gone wrong during the week, the stage crew performed efficiently and professionally, and the stage manager, (that’s me, by the way, just in case you haven’t read chapter one, or you did, but you weren’t paying attention), well I was delighted to have found a new lover who seemed to enjoy lots of fucking, and who was only to willing to accept being dominated. She, in turn, dominated her tiny-cock husband, who was a willing and eager cuckold. Things, as far as I was concerned, were definitely looking up.

As I mentioned, Oklahoma! came to the end of its run, and a week later, I moved into Margaret and Keith’s house permanently. The offer had come from both of them, following a night of fucking during the week of the show. I had laid down my terms, and Margaret had accepted them happily. She loved sex, the kinkier the better, and although she totally dominated her sissy husband, and had cuckolded him several times before she met me, she was happy to be submissive to her Daddy, as she liked to call me, despite the fact that at 39, she was old enough (just!) to be my mother.

The day that I moved into my new accommodation, Margaret made Keith take a day off work. He hired a medium sized van and together we carried all my belongings out of my old flat, and drove them to Margaret and Keith’s huge house, which stood in its’ own grounds in a much more salubrious part of the town than the part that I was moving out of. Once we arrived, Margaret and I went indoors, leaving Keith to unload the van.

All of Keith’s clothes had been moved out of the wardrobe in the master bedroom into the spare room. I had made it clear that cuckold Keith would be allowed to sleep in our bed occasionally, but that Margaret and I would want some privacy, so Keith moved into the spare room.

Whilst he unloaded the van. Margaret and I spent a very enjoyable couple of hours exploring one another’s bodies. I already knew that Margaret liked to have her nipples squeezed and that she enjoyed anal sex as well as being cunt fucked. She was also an accomplished cock sucker, and I was delighted to discover that she could ‘deep throat’ me too. I resolved to train Keith to emulate his hotwife’s technique. It excited me to think of what lay in store for all of us.

When Keith had finished, Margaret and I followed him back to the van depot in the car. Having returned the van, we headed for home, Keith driving, and Margaret on her knees in the back sucking my cock noisily. Keith kept glancing in the rear view mirror, and after the third near collision, I threatened to make him stop the car so that I could punish him there and then if he didn’t wise up. We arrived home safely, and I still hadn’t cum. As I led Margaret into the house, my mind was racing, and I came to a decision.

“Upstairs, both of you,” I instructed. “My baby girl needs fucking, so you are to be on fluffing and clean up duty, cucky.”

Margaret squealed with delight, and raced upstairs. I followed at a more sedate pace, so that by the time I got to our bedroom, she was already down to her bra and knickers. I watched as she took them off. Her slender, hard body excited me, and her small, but perfectly formed tits made my cock twitch. I was glad to see that she’d shaved her cunt, as I’d had to punish her for the ‘landing strip’ that she had been wearing when I first fucked her.

I sat on the side of the huge bed and looked at her.

“Starting from now, you will no longer wear a bra or knickers,” I told her, and she grinned in delight.

“Your tits won’t suffer from not being enclosed in a bra,” I continued, “although I don’t rule out some tit and nipple torture in the future. As for knickers, I want access to your cunt and arse at all times, so I don’t want to have to get around some fabric before I can finger either of my holes.”

“Does that include when I’m out of the house too, Daddy?” she asked, and I nodded with a grin.

“Nice shaving job too,” I approved. “We’ll see about getting your cunt permanently smooth. I’m sure that the cuckold can afford some electrolysis treatment.”

Keith confirmed this, adding that in his position as CEO of the local Health Board, he was in a position to get his hotwife’s cunt permanently hair free. I told him to make this a priority as soon as he went back to work.

I undressed quickly and motioned for our cuckold to fluff me hard. For someone who had protested vehemently when he was first instructed to do fluffing duty, Keith was a changed man. He now went down on me eagerly, canlı bahis starting with my helmet, which he knew I loved before paying attention to my thick shaft and then licking and sucking my balls. By now, he also knew that he was required to slide my hard cock into his hotwife’s cunt, and to go and stand in the corner and watch. Finally, when we’d both cum, he would approach again, and do clean up. Today was no exception, and Keith carried out his duties perfectly. As did I, and when I left to go to the theatre for a sound check for that evening’s show, Margaret was having a post-fuck cigar, and getting her breath back after having taken my cock in her mouth, her arse and her cunt.

We settled into our new lifestyle quickly and with much mutual enjoyment. Margaret agreed to give up her job serving bread, rolls and cakes in the local bakery, and became what she called a ‘stay-at-home hotwife.” Keith carried on working, of course, although these days he was sent to work wearing what Margaret had put out for him to wear.

Quite early on, we had thrown out all his boxer shorts and taken him shopping for knickers. He now owned a couple of dozen pairs, which he laundered by hand. He had also arranged for Margaret to have her electrolysis, so now her cunt was permanently smooth.

We also increased his sissy training and his humiliation. He was required to wear a very short dress when he was serving us at home, and Margaret sent for an ultra small metal chastity device, which she put on him with much enjoyment. We both had a key, and he was released every fortnight, when either I would fuck him, or Margaret would peg him. When he released his cum, he would be made to lick it all up before we locked him away again.

It was also during this time that I arranged for Margaret to have her nipples ringed, and her clit pierced. She wasn’t keen to have either done, but I insisted and she soon realised that her sexual enjoyment was greatly enhanced. She particularly loved having her nipple rings tugged and we bought a selection of thick, heavy hoops which she wore with pride.

In late September, two things happened which had a profound effect on our lifestyle. First of all, a casting call went out for the annual P. A. A. D. S. Christmas pantomime. The company was to put on Aladdin, and after a couple of read through sessions, Keith was cast as Widow Twankey and Margaret had to be content with the part of Rajah, pet tiger of Princess Jasmine, who was played, much to Margaret’s disgust, by Morwenna Rees. Rehearsals began, and it was during the second of these that Lawrence Griffiths, the producer, was seen to be looking extremely stressed.

The majority of the cast put it down to the fact that Morwenna was having her usual problems with walking and talking at the same time. The stage crew were of the opinion that Lawrence couldn’t concentrate both on Morwenna’s tits which were bulging out of her costume and on the rest of the cast. In any case, it seemed the rehearsal was a total waste of time. Lawrence called for a fifteen minute break “so that everyone can get their bloody act together.” The cast disappeared into their various dressing rooms, and we re-dressed the stage to start again.

As would be expected, the stage crew were ready to go on time, and the cast made their way into the wings, to begin with the opening number. There was no sign of Lawrence, and when I went to look for him, I found him collapsed in his dressing room, and totally unresponsive. I called for help and telephoned for an ambulance, and when the paramedics turned up eight minutes later, they worked on him for fifteen minutes and then took him off to hospital.

Needless to say, the rehearsal was cancelled, and when we heard the following day that Lawrence had never recovered consciousness and had been pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital, it looked as if the pantomime would be cancelled too.

Margaret and Keith attended an emergency meeting, and it was decided that Lawrence would have insisted that the show would go on. So a campaign was started to search for a new director. Enter Eleanor Garfield, who unbeknown to me was to prove to have a huge influence on the lifestyle that I had embarked on with Margaret and Keith.

Ironically, it was Morwenna who suggested Eleanor. Morwenna was a learning support assistant at the secondary school where Eleanor was the Head of Drama. She was relating what had happened at the rehearsal to her colleagues in the staff room, and she said that she feared that the pantomime would have to be cancelled. It seems that Eleanor overheard her, and offered her services. Morwenna promised to put it to the society, who were only to grateful to have someone step into the breach.

A rehearsal was arranged, and everyone turned up with a renewed determination to make this production the best ever, as a tribute to Lawrence. It went really well. Eleanor had a much less relaxed style of directing. She explained each scene beforehand and then stood bahis siteleri on the stage with the actors, directing, suggesting, correcting and even on some occasions, bullying them into doing what she wanted. As Christmas approached, the production began to take shape, and from the middle of October, rehearsals were held on stage on a Wednesday night, as opposed to the company’s usual practice of working in the rehearsal room. Eleanor said it gave everybody more space, and performances improved dramatically.

It was during one week in October when something occurred that changed our enjoyable lifestyle. Keith had been sent off to work, and I had the morning off, following a late get-out after a concert the previous evening.

I’d brought Margaret back to bed and I was balls deep in her cunt when the phone rang.

“Ignore it,” I instructed, “and carry on what you are doing.”

What Margaret was doing was very enjoyable indeed. She was sat astride me, and was clenching her cunt muscles around my cock. The sensation of being repeatedly gripped and then released was one that I was enjoying immensely, and in return, I was tugging and twisting Margaret’s nipple hoops, which meant her nipples were sticking out like coat pegs. We were both far too immersed in what we were doing to answer the bloody phone.

It stopped, and I smiled at my lover. I began to thrust my pelvis up into her, and she flushed with pleasure.

“Oh fuck, that’s nice!” she gasped. “You fuck me so well, Daddy. May I cum, please?”

This was something we’d been working on. Margaret was now always required to ask before she had her initial orgasm. I had conditioned her to hold it back until she was really on the edge before allowing her to cum for the first time. After she’d cum once, I would continue to fuck her, in different positions, but we’d always finish in the doggy position, because that gave me the chance to go in really deep. When Keith wasn’t around to do clean up, Margaret would suck me clean after I’d cum, and I’d put a plug in her cunt to save the cream pie for Keith for later on.

We’d just finished fucking and Margaret was cleaning my cock when the phone rang again. I reached over to the bedside table and picked it up.

“Hello?” I said in as steady a voice as I could manage. It’s very difficult to sound normal when your cock is being sucked.

“Oh, good morning, Drew,” came the reply. ” I didn’t expect you to be at home. Eleanor here. I wanted to speak to Margaret. Is she around?”

“I think she’s in the shower,” I lied. “Is everything alright? Can I give her a message?”

“No thank you,” replied Eleanor, and she hesitated before seeming to make up her mind. “Actually, yes, you can. Do you know if she’s going to be in later this morning?”

“I presume she will be,” I replied, my mind now thoroughly confused. I shook my head at Margaret, and put a finger to my lips to ensure that she didn’t make a sound. I wanted to know what Eleanor was up to.

“Oh, hang on, Eleanor,” I said, “I think Margaret’s out of the shower now. I’ll just call her.”

I took the phone away from my ear and held it at arm’s length.

“Margaret,” I said loudly, “Eleanor’s on the phone. She wants a word with you.”

Before I handed the phone to Margaret, I kissed her, enjoying as always the combined taste of her cock breath and the remains of my own cum on her lips. We kissed for about ten seconds, then I gave her the phone.

“Hi Eleanor,” she began, “sorry to keep you. I was busy upstairs.”

I grinned, and tickled her arsehole with my index finger. Margaret gave a squeak of pleasure and apologised.

“Sorry,” she said, “I just stubbed my toe. I’m standing here straight out of the shower. I’m dripping wet!”

I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle my laughter, and heard Margaret continue her conversation.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Come for coffee about eleven. Drew had a late get-out last night. That band had a hell of a lot if equipment, and he said the roadie was less than useless. So he’ll be here, if that’s ok?”

She smiled at me, and knelt on the bed, offering her arse to me. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I slipped a finger into her lovely tight, bum and wiggled it a bit. Margaret clenched, trapping my finger, as she ended the call.

“What the fuck was that all about, I wonder?” I said, extracting my finger and giving it to Margaret to suck.

She slurped it into her mouth and savoured her own musky taste.

“She said something’s come up and she wants to discuss some changes to the pantomime with me,” Margaret replied, “but she won’t be here for an hour and a half. Do you want to fuck me in the shower, Daddy? Then I can at least look her in the eye and admit that I have had a shower this morning!”

Margaret was freshly fucked and freshly showered when she opened the door to Eleanor just after eleven o’clock. She was walking rather gingerly though, which wasn’t surprising when you bahis şirketleri take into account that half an hour earlier she’d had my cock up her arse, and now she was wearing a ribbed butt plug. (Keith particularly likes cream pie served from the rear end.)

I offered to make coffee whilst they talked, but Eleanor asked me to stay.

“I’m re-casting,” she said, “and I want your input on lighting and special effects.”

I was intrigued, so I sat down to listen. Margaret sat down beside me, and I didn’t think that Eleanor noticed her wince as her full and very sore arsehole sank into the settee’s cushion.

“You are wasted as Rajah,” Eleanor began, looking at Margaret. “You have no lines and all you do is wander round after Jasmine, trying to look relevant. Well, it turns out that Malcolm fell off his bike yesterday and has broken his hip. So now I have the excuse I need. I’m scrapping Rajah. I want you to play the genie!”

Margaret grinned, and looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Do you think the children will go for a female genie?” I asked Eleanor sceptically.

“Fuck them,” she replied brusquely. “I’m thinking more of the dads. With a bit of clever lighting, and the minimum of costume, and an awful lot of blue pancake, I think we can a lot of people talking about our pantomime. After all, there’s no such thing as bad publicity!”

The implication of what Eleanor was suggesting sank in. I broke out into a grin.

“It might work!” I agreed. “She’ll have to be lit in a blue spotlight. No, it’ll have to be a follow spot, because she’ll be moving, won’t she?”

Margaret looked from Eleanor to me and back again.

“What are you two going on about?” she asked, clearly mystified.

“Are you going to tell her, or shall I?” I grinned.

Eleanor set her face straight and looked at Margaret.

“Your costume consists of a pair of baggy pantaloons, curly-toed slippers and, unless you’re prepared to shave your head, a bald wig,” she said. “Nothing else, except, as I mentioned earlier, a hell of a lot of blue pancake.”

The penny dropped. Margaret blushed. “You mean…” she began, then stopped.

“Exactly,” grinned Eleanor. “Genies don’t wear anything else. You’ll have your tits out on stage in front of an audience of about six hundred people!”

Margaret shook her head violently.

“Absolutely not!” she replied. “I love acting, I love the company, but there are limits. I have to live in this town. I don’t want people looking at me and thinking, ‘There’s that slut who got her tits out in the Christmas panto.’ No way. I’m not doing it.”

She folded her arms and glared at Eleanor defiantly.

Eleanor shook her head, and looked up.

“I thought you might say that,” she said. She reached down into her shopping bag and pulled out a package.

“I brought this, just in case. Will you at least try it on?”

“What is it?” asked Margaret in a sulky voice.

“It’s a body stocking,” replied Eleanor. “I estimated your size, and if it fits, I’ll get it dyed blue. Try it on at least.”

Margaret took the package reluctantly, and opened it. She shook out the body stocking and stood up carefully. She held it against herself.

“It looks a pretty good fit,” she agreed.

“That’s not good enough,” I said sternly. “You’re going to need to put it on. If I’m supposed to preserve your modesty when I light you, I’m going to have to have some idea of how you look with it on. Go and change.”

Eleanor looked at me, but said nothing. Margaret walked slowly out of the room, and two things struck me. She still had the butt plug up her arse, and she hadn’t had permission to remove it, and her nipples were ringed. I wondered if she’d risk a spanking by removing them without asking me.

My thoughts were interrupted by Eleanor.

“You’re fucking her, aren’t you?” she asked quietly. “Does Keith know?”

I grinned. “I’m a gentleman,” I protested. “And gentlemen never tell.”

“Never tell what?” asked Margaret, sidling into the room with her arms folded across her tits. The silly bitch didn’t realise that she was displaying one of the most perfect camel toes I’d ever seen. I put it down to the fucking I’d given her earlier. Her cunt lips were still puffy and engorged.

I looked at Eleanor and said, “Ask Margaret. Maybe she’ll tell you.”

“Tell her what?” asked Margaret, mystified.

Eleanor ignored her question and stood up.

“That’s quite a good fit,” she said, having walked around Margaret. “Put your hands by your sides, please. Let’s see if we can get away with this.”

Margaret did as she was told. (I’ve trained her to obey instantly!) Eleanor’s eyes opened wide with delight.

“Oh my word!” she said with a huge grin. “That’s brilliant, Margaret. The genie is supposed to wear earrings. What a lovely twist! We won’t need to get your ears pierced. Your nipples look perfect!”

Margaret blushed. “I didn’t know if I should take them out or not,” she said quietly. “I wear them constantly these days, so I thought I should leave them in.”

“You were correct to do so,” I said, looking at her meaningfully. She blushed, cleared her throat and turned back to Eleanor.

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