Mostly About Lydia Funderburke
                                                                                                                                              © BlackTux


Patience has never been a strong point for Shirley. She was the child who scoured the house for weeks before Christmas looking for her presents. She was the teen who sped ahead through mystery novels to see whodunit. Finally, she was the adult who put a match to the fuse of every relationship. If it was going to blow- up it may as well blow  early and minimize the casualties. Now, her Master was coming to visit, and she just could not wait.

Shirley pinballed through the house as if motion were it's own activity. She went from room to room looking at a pillow here or a book there, not moving anything but merely assessing it's value to the mood.
    "What will he think about this?" she thought, "Or that?"
She wanted everything to scream erotic, sex, sex, sex. Shirley burst into the bedroom, she surveyed the room quickly with a practiced eye. Smoothed the bedspread and fluffed a pillow.
    "This room is too light",  she thought, " I need candles, maybe I should have a fireplace put in."
As her Master was coming that evening she decided that her last idea was at best impractical. Shirley stared at the smooth dark curved wood of her bed frame, it's luster warm in the morning light.

Shirley felt the cold marble floor beneath her feet as the servants bundled her into the manor house. Her wrists were tied behind her back with leather thongs and a wide leather collar was locked at her throat. A small girl who looked no more then sixteen pulled hard at her collar with a length of chain. The girls that fetched her from her cage were small and young she noted, dark curly hair cascading past their shoulders and olive skin. Perhaps they were Arabs or Spaniards she thought. They wore long fitted gowns with plunging necklines that revealed ample breasts. The girls never spoke, but moved her with a practiced expertise. Shirley was led down a dark hallway toward a massive hand carved staircase. The short, shapeless rough cloth dress she wore chaffed her thighs as she struggled to keep up with the leading girl. Suddenly, to her left a burst of light appeared. A great room was visible through the portico, richly furnished, a huge fireplace blazed on the far wall. In the light of the fire he sat in a large chair. A tall man, muscles apparent even under his black velvet robe. His gray hair laying on his shoulders was a sharp contrast with the ebony cloth. His feet rested on a thick leather ottoman encased in high riding boots, the fire glistening off their high sheen. Shirley stopped short despite the tug at her neck. He turned slightly and his eyes met hers. She straightened to appear tall and strong, but her lips parted slightly in a sign of receptive submission. Shirley gave a toss of her long dark hair as she stared at the man before a sharp tug at her collar and a slash across her hips with a riding whip propelled her down the hallway. Shirley was haunted by the mans eyes as she started up the staircase. They seemed to look straight into her soul while revealing absolutely nothing of himself.

A telephone rang. Shirley wondered what a telephone was doing in a eighteenth century manor house. When it rang again she realized that it was in her kitchen. Shirley stumbled to the phone looking about for the olive- skinned wenches.
  "Hello?", she said cautiously still feeling uneasily like she had a foot in two worlds..
  "Hey!, is your boyfriend there yet?"
It was Shawna, Shirley's friend and erstwhile employee.
   "He's NOT my boy-friend", Shirley said exaggerating the word, "Have you been watching Happy Days again?"
    "Well whatever he may be is he there?"
    "No, his flight doesn't get in until 4:30"
    "Did you call the airport?'
    "Yup"
    "Are your nipples hard?"
    "I dialed the phone with them"
    "Wow, excited?"
    "A bit."
    "So what are you two going to do?"
    "Guess."
     "After that."
    "Gee," Shirley came up short, "I'm not sure."
    "Well what does he like to do?", Shawna continued.
    "Guess."
    "Besides that."
    "Well", Shirley considered," "I know he likes to cook, maybe we'll make a meal together."
    "Have any food in the house?"
Shirley opened the door of the refrigerator.
    "Let's see", she began an inventory, "A jar of pickles, half a pound of garlic bologna,
and some cheez whiz."
    "I don't have to go to the store."
    "Wow, he must be some cook, you could have people over."

Against her better judgment Shirley decided she may need to pick up a few things. She knew a farmers market ran in the town on Saturdays so she decided to dazzle her Master with a wide array of fresh fruits and vegetables. She slid her truck into a space facing the curb in the counter- culture part of town. Boutiques lined the walks with colorful awnings while bins and stands filled the street. Shirley got out of her truck and headed through the maze.

It was more a street festival then a market as she snaked though the crowd. She wore a black mini- dress with no panties, her thigh high stockings stopped a full four inches short of her skirt hem. Her freshly shaven pussy lips were gorged with blood and Shirley nearly came with each step of her stiletto heels clicking on the pavement. She cast a glance back over her shoulder at her Master following a few paces behind her enjoying the view. Shirley ached for him to touch her, she looked about the crowded street, past the shoppers who took more then a passing interest in her odd attire. She spotted a small seedy looking tavern on the edge of a side street. Shirley considered turning quickly and grabbing her Master in a passionate embrace knowing well that she risked a whipping, maybe even one here in the street. Shirley felt her excitement rise at the thought, she needed more then the slow caresses of her spandexed ass her Master had stolen at the odd moment. Shirley began slipping through the crowd toward the Tavern, she imagined her Master was surprised at the sudden change of plans. She hoped he was following not looking forward to entering this dive alone dressed like a hooker. She hopped onto the sidewalk and through the open door of "Clancy's Bar", the smell of stale beer and disinfectant hit her like a slap bringing her up short. Suddenly the hands of her Master were on her shoulders propelling her into the bar, steering her right past stacked cases of empties and toward the museum quality phone booth in the back hallway. She turned wrapping her arms around her Master's neck as he pushed her into the booth.
     "I want cock and I want it bad!", she cooed into his ear.
     "Do you now?", he quizzed pulling her dress up over her hips sending a shock through her wet  shaved crotch as the chilled air hit.
     "Yes!" she fairly gasped, before looking past him to the curious group of barfly's assembled by the commotion. A wry smile played about her Master's lips,
    "Too bad you didn't ask for my cock Sugar!" Shirley made a mental note to be more specific in the future.

Shirley piled out of her truck and headed quickly into the house. She had to decide what to wear to the airport. It had to be drop- dead- stick- in- his- head -ravish- me- on- the- floor- attire. Not something easily found on the rack at Sears. Why hadn't she thought of this earlier, Damn! She searched her closet, nuthin, nuthin, nuthin. Maybe a sexy little nuthin under a coat. "Hmmm," she said to herself. That plan was full of danger, maybe a little danger is called for in this instance she snickered to herself.

Shirley had been chained kneeling on the huge four poster bed by the olive- skinned girls. Perfumed oils had been worked into her skin by their nimble fingers and peppermint oils rubbed on her slit making it burn with more then her own fire. Her hair brushed silky smooth and ruby red color painted onto her lips. The white- silk gown she was dressed in clung to her body made damp by the oils showing every nuance of her waiting curves. The girls slipped back to the shadows along the walls as he entered. He was tall and powerful. He strode to the bed slowly as his boots made a distinctive clack on the hardwood floor. She burned a look at him with eyes smoldering hatred, she wanted to cow him, make him know she was no easy conquest such as he was used to in the past. She tried to hide with her face the fact that her cunt dripped for him.
   "I want your cock in my mouth", she fairly spat the words at him, "You do have one don't you?." The contempt in her voice was palpable. He stopped and a smile played about his lips before his hand snaked out with a sharp slap across her face sending her sprawling onto the coverlet. He bent over her placing his hands inside the neckline of her gown tearing  it wide open with a single thrust sending her breasts spilling from it.
He held out a brandy glass which the closet servant girl filled from a decanter on the table.
    "I do not believe this slut is prepared?' he spoke calmly before settling into the chair nearest the fire. Silently the girls let their dresses slide to the floor and climbed upon the bed with Shirley. She would be well prepared before her Master came for her again.

The drive to the airport was excruciating. Shirley wore only a tight leather bodice and leather panties under her long raincoat. While not cold Shirley shivered with excitement under the exposure. She guided her car into the parking garage and cinched the raincoat tight about her.

As the door slid open in the terminal she headed straight to the overhead monitor. Is it on time, is it on time, what gate? She craned her neck to see over the group in the concourse. The space next to his flight blinked "DELAYED", over and over. She stared with disbelief, are you kidding me? Heading to the desk she grabbed the ticket agent
  "Why is the flight from New York delayed?" she nearly pleaded with the girl.
  "Fog"
  "Fog?", "Fog??", "FOG!", Shirley was incredulous, "Don't they have fog lights?"
   "Sorry Ma'am, but they're still on the ground at Kennedy and probably will be for some time."
Shirley walked slowly down the concourse crestfallen, she looked at the bar full of people waiting for flights but decided against it. She dropped into a chair looking out to the runway adjusting her raincoat around her.
    "If I were Lydia Funderburke this would NOT have happened." she spoke to the ashtray. Lydia Funderburke was in her college Sorority and even Barbie would have been jealous of her. While she did not have the Ferrari or the Dreamhouse or the preposterous figure, she did have more luck then the legal limit.
    "If the Bitch fell down a well she'd come up with a treasure chest", Shirley was known to say to no one in particular. Apparently by some cosmic twist of fate, Lydia Funderburke had all her luck and Shirley's share too.

Shirley stood in the doorway of the cocktail party and slowly  surveyed the room. Everyone there was elegantly dressed, men in tailored tuxedo's and women in their finest gowns and jewels. It could have been a Christmas or New Years party but in fact, this party was all  for her. Shirley looked across the room and there was her Master, impeccably dressed in his black tux he shared a glass of champagne with Lydia Funderburke. Shirley stepped into the room and crossed the floor. Couples parted for her, smiled and nodded as she headed for her Master. Noticing her at last he smiled broadly and held out his hand to her.
   "Come my dear we've been waiting for you." Shirley smiled as she dropped to all fours and crawled the last ten feet to her Master planting a kiss on the top of his polished shoe.
    "Ahhhhhhhh", the crowd moaned in unison and applauded. Shirley kept her lips on the soft leather, her naked body glowing in the soft candlelight of the ballroom. Her Master bent and snapped a leash on the black leather collar that enclosed her neck. He offered Lydia his arm as they walked about the room making small talk with various guests Shirley always crawling obediently at his side kept her eyes on the polished marble floor. Most made no comment of Shirley but other said "Isn't she lovely", or "My, how well behaved." Shirley crawled to and fro on the marble floor, the chill of the stone chilling her hands feet and knees. A sheen of sweat from the exertion shone on her skin in the candlelight. Shirley could feel a trickle of excitement slide down her inner thigh. Lydia leaned in toward Shirley's Master, "It's time", Shirley could hear her say. A sharp tug on her leash led Shirley to climb the dais at the rooms end. The crowd followed and gathered waiting for the spectacle. Her Master raised his hands and quieted the group. Lydia opened a small wooden box and from inside the crushed velvet brought out a leather hunting crop with a brass handle. A murmur went through the crowd as they beheld the instrument that Lydia handed to her Master with much ceremony.
   "What would you like Shirley?", her Master addressed her for the first time in hours.
   "I'd like to be whipped Master", she said never lifting her eyes. the response brought a slight murmur in the crowd.
    "You'd LIKE to be whipped Shirley?, he asked again.
    "Yes Master,", she replied, "I'd very much like to be whipped."
    "Oh my!", Shirley could hear a young woman she could not see exclaim at her back. Lydia ran a single finger up Shirley's gaping sex rubbing her fingers together in front of her Master showing him the wetness. Shirley's face burned with shame as her cunt betrayed her excitement. Her Master placed the brass handle of the whip under her chin and lifted her face so she could look into his eyes.
    "Then beg", he said unsmiling.

Shirley stared down at the toes of her shoes stretched out in front of her. A glance back over her shoulder to the monitor showed the DELAYED sign still blinking. She pulled her legs back with a leather creaking groan and let her hands hang between her knees. Resigned she decided a drink may not be such a bad thing after all. The airport bar was a typical dismal affair, open to the concourse. Shirley sidled up to the bar and fond an empty stool. Wrapping her coat tighter she called her order to the bartender,
    "Tootsie Roll," she said with a swagger, like she had just ordered red-eye in a dirty glass.
    "Okay you win." "the youthful bartender sighed, "Don't know that one." Shirley eyed him with a certain level of disdain.
    "Amaretto, club soda, orange juice, tastes like a tootsie roll." she instructed.
    "Ohhhh a Bocce ball, that's a Bocce ball."
    "Whatever," she sneered waiting for her drink.
Shirley took the offered drink with a grunt, alcohol in the guise of candy can be in a word intoxicating. Rather then improving her mood Shirley felt hers darken. Calling the bartender over she pulled open her coat revealing the leather bodice with her white breasts topping it like vanilla ice cream cone.
    "Whatta ya think of these buck-o?" she inquired to the boy.
    "Clearasil will fix that up", was his dead pan reply.
    "No tip for you Sparky", Shirley spat as she cinched up her coat.
The monitor in the concourse now read CANCELED. Shirley headed for her car.
    "Probably get a DWI", she thought, "Spend the night in the jug in this outfit being Big Bertha's private bitch."
She climbed behind the wheel of the car and turned the key. Carly Simon crooned "Anticipation"
    "Right you are girl, right you are."
Shirley headed back to Tara, tomorrow, was another day.






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