On My Own

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Author’s Note

There are twenty-three stories in the Mistress and Charlotte series of tales. Back when I published Girl Friday, I never envisioned a sequel, much less twenty-two of them.

After so many stories, it’s time to shake things up a little bit. Don’t worry too much. If you’ve read the other stories in this series, you know they’ll make it through.



Dear Friends,

I am blessed to have two lovely girls who call me mistress. I love them very much and always want what’s best for them. Most of the time, what’s best for them works out to be best for me too. Unfortunately, that isn’t always the case. But, there’s enough love in this house that I know we’ll get though it.

Love and Kisses,

Mistress Natasha


It’s a Delicate Process


I walked into the kitchen to find Juliet pouring lemon juice into a large pot of boiling of milk. She was wearing a kitchen apron and nothing else. I was dressed the same, except without the kitchen apron.

I snuck up from behind, pressed my bare body against her, and shimmied side to side with just enough friction to make my nipples stand up. I shivered and reached around under her apron and swirled my fingers to make sure hers were doing the same.

Juliet kept right on stirring.

“Wha’cha doin’?” I said, as I rolled her tender flesh between my thumb and fingers, hoping for some acknowledgment of my advances.

“Making paneer.”

“Is that Miss Chowdhury’s recipe?”


“So me with my hands all over you shouldn’t be that much different than class, huh?” I sent my right hand wandering lower, over her tight tummy, down, down, within inches of the prize.

Juliet finally turned to face me. “She’s not that bold.”

I nipped at her pouting lower lip. “Does she let you wear clothes, or just an apron?”

“She said it’s my choice.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Just as I was licking my lips and getting ready to stick my tongue down Juliet’s throat, she turned away and went back to her boiling pot of milk.

“Rude,” I said, before bringing my right hand around to where it was before, just below her tummy, sliding toward the danger zone.

“Paneer is a delicate process. Cook it too long and it’ll be tough.”

“Is that what the handsy chef tells you as she’s got you laid out on her butcher block?” I smiled as I felt warm wetness.

“It’s not like that, Charlotte. We don’t exchange fluids.” Juliet looked over her shoulder. “Pass me the cheese cloth. Or take your finger out of my pussy for a second and I’ll get it myself.”

I frowned. “It sounds like you don’t like my finger in your pussy, darling. Do I need to get your collar out to make you more agreeable this morning.”

“Maybe later.”

“Maybe later?”

“Paneer is a delicate process. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Parting your pussy lips is a delicate process, darling. You don’t hear me complaining.”

“I’m sorry Miss Charlotte. Just let me finish this up and I’ll put on my collar so you can spank me for being a bad girl.”

“Your overwhelming enthusiasm is duly noted, darling.” I pulled my finger from Juliet’s pussy and popped it in my mouth for a second. “Mmm. I knew we never should have sent you off for cooking lessons with the grabtastic Julia Child. She’s corrupted you.”

I released Juliet from my grasp, stuck my tongue out at her for good measure, and stepped over to the coffee maker to grind some beans.

“I just want to make a nice dinner for you and Miss Natasha,” Juliet said.

“Okay. Can I watch while I wait for my coffee?”

“Be my guest.”

I hopped up on the counter top beside her. I spread my thighs and licked my index finger.

Juliet rolled her eyes. But, it didn’t stop me from playing hide the finger while I watched her drain the pot and transfer the curds onto the cheesecloth.

“What’s going on in here, girls?” Mistress asked as she glanced at me playing with myself for precisely two seconds before making a beeline for the coffee maker. Priorities.

“Juliet’s pissy morning mood has curdled all the milk in the house, Mistress. She’s trying to salvage what she can.”

Juliet heaved a sigh. “I’m making paneer, Miss Natasha.”

Now that Mistress had her coffee in hand, she moved to where I was sprawling on the counter and encircled my wrist with her finger and thumb.

I extended my glistening finger as she guided me to her mouth.

“Mmm,” she said as she swirled her tongue and sucked. “Lovely as always.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“Juliet, have you tried Charlotte’s pussy this morning? It’s quite good.” Mistress leaned in with her tongue extended, aiming for my mouth.

I let my jaw go slack to let her in. I could taste myself on her lips, and I had to agree with her assessment.

“Paneer is a delicate process, Miss Natasha. I–“

“She’s a broken record this morning, Mistress. That’s all I’ve heard.”

Mistress picked tuzla escort me up off the counter and into her arms, while I wrapped my legs around her waist to steady myself. “We’ll leave her in peace. Be a dear and grab my coffee, please.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Juliet, hon, let me know when you’re done and I’ll make waffles.” Mistress turned toward the living room. “Until then, I’ll be eating your girlfriend’s pussy in the other room.”

Juliet’s sigh was even more pronounced this time. “Yes, Miss Natasha.”

I leaned in toward Mistress’s ear and whispered. “Remember the thing we did with the candle wax that one time? Maybe when the coffee has a chance to cool down a bit…”

“Feeling adventurous this morning?” Mistress said.

I nodded. And I gave Juliet a wink and a big paneer-eating grin as I bounced along in Mistress’s arms, balancing the two cups in my hands, heading toward the couch.

Bella came trotting in to see what was going on, and more importantly if anybody had any food to be shared.

“I’ll go get a towel,” said Mistress. “Don’t go anywhere.”

I rubbed Bella’s cheek and scratched behind her ears. “Go see Juliet,” I said. “She has cheese.”

Bella trotted off, nails clicking on the floor, just as Mistress came back with an old bath towel.

“Bella, honey, I’m making paneer. It’s a very delicate process,” I heard from the kitchen. I smirked.

“I brought a medicine dropper, too,” said Mistress. “Should make it easier and we won’t waste any.” She blew across her mug and took a tentative sip. “Not too hot, I hope,” she said.

I shrugged, spread out the towel and laid back weaving my fingers together behind my head. I felt very exposed.

The first drops were aimed just above my right nipple.

“Ow,” I complained, as Mistress began slurping at the dark river running over my nearly scalded flesh.

“Too hot?”, she said.

“I’m just glad your aim was off, Mistress. I assumed that one was for my– Ow.”

That time she was right on target. My poor tit was on fire. But Mistress soon had me forgetting all about it as she swirled her tongue all around.

“Other side?” she said, grinning.

I shuddered, but nodded anyway.


And there she was with the tongue again, making it all just a warm and tingly dream.

The next drop hit me between my breasts. I twitched a little, and sucked a breath between my teeth, but managed not to cry out. I quivered as Mistress followed it up with her tongue.

I brought my hands out from behind my head and ran my fingers through her messy morning hair, encouraging her, and moaning softly until she was done.

The next few drops were a little lower. And the next lower still. It didn’t take my long to figure out where this was going. But, I knew what I was getting into from when I suggested it. Mistress dropped one just under my navel when she popped her head up to fill the dropper again.


I pressed my lips together as I pondered. A second later I was nodding.

“Oh, ff–” I hissed as I wiggled my knees as the drop hit my bare mound. Mistress was right in there with her tongue to make it all merge into a warm tingly dream.

“Tastes good.” She set the dropper aside, reaching for the mug this time. Mistress blew across the top and smiled. “How about something new?”

I chewed my lower lip, but nodded anyway. Mistress reached for the dropper and I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt the dropper entering me.

“Ow, fu–” I scissored my thighs while the little caffeinated pin pricks assaulted my insides. “Wow, feels hotter that way.”

“You’re not injured, I hope.”

I shook my head. I was pretty sure I meant it.

Mistress lowered her head and went to work with her tongue. She reached up to find my hand and gave me a reassuring squeeze. The pin pricks evened out and I let out a contented sigh.

From the side, I heard Bella’s nails clacking on the floor again, getting louder. But, more urgently, I felt a trickle of lukewarm coffee leaking out.

“Hurry, Mistress, it’s… It’s running down my ass.” I clenched my butt cheeks and squirmed. “Oh my gawd.”

Bella took one look at us, snuffled, and turned around.

Mistress never stopped licking. She was extremely thorough. I tried to remember the last time she ran her tongue over my ass. It might be worth the hot coffee in my puss. “Mistress?” I said.

“Sorry, baby, that was the last of it.”

I smirked. “Use my cup.”

“You sure?”

“Ow, fff–” I squirmed as the hot liquid squirted inside me and then ran out between my thighs. It was definitely rough on my tender bits, but Mistress’s efforts to tracking down every last drop made it well worth any temporary discomfort. I felt my head getting light. My eyelids fluttered a bit. It was all starting to even out into a nice warm, stingy, ball of dark roasted pleasure.

“Oh, Mistress.” I felt her tongue swirling around my puckered backdoor, exploring. I briefly congratulated myself for having the good sense to shower before pendik escort coming downstairs. Then my thighs began to tremble.

And Mistress stopped. I moaned, wondering why she chose to leave me hanging.

I was just about to open my eyes when I felt her finger pressing up against my ass, barging in, and tickling my insides, making me all squirmy. Oh, that’s why.

“Mmm, Mistress.” She had moved her tongue up to swirl around my clit, while she pressed another knuckle’s worth of her finger up my ass. I clenched around her.

She was sucking and sliding her tongue all over my slick folds as I thrashed on the couch. The coffee that dribbled out of me and onto the towel was getting cold and clingy now, sticking to my butt cheeks, but it did little to slow me down.

I arched my back, putting my weight on my feet and shoulders as I pressed my crotch closer still to Mistress’s mouth. She scooped up my ass with her free hand, tucking her arm underneath to bring me closer to her mouth.

“Oh, my… Mistress… Oh, oh, oh… Gahhh!”

Mistress let me settle for a second. She slid her finger out. I giggled a little as I heard slurping and felt the suction from her mouth pulling at my slick folds. Finally, she picked me up into her arms to hold me tight against her chest.

“Mmm, so good, Mistress.” I laid my head on her shoulder, still grinning like an idiot.

“Thank you.”

“Next time with milk,” Mistress whispered. “A Charlotte Latte.”

I shuddered as I thought about the latte injection, at least it would be cooler, and then kissed her cheek. “Shall we go see what Miss Paneer Pouty Pants is up to?” I suggested.

“In a minute, baby.” Mistress tucked a finger under my chin and coaxed another kiss from me, and then another, on the mouth this time. She tasted like coffee mixed with pussy. I smiled.

* * *

“If you clear me some space, I’ll make waffles,” Mistress announced, setting me back on the kitchen counter where she found me. My head was spinning a bit, either from the early morning orgasm, running on an empty tummy, or the caffeine seeping in through my nether regions. Maybe all three.

Juliet slid her paneer pressing operation over to a corner of the kitchen. “This good?” she asked.

“Juliet, hon,” Mistress said, “if you need to crawl back into bed, we can set a plate aside for you.”

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Is Miss Chowdhury wearing you out with these homework assignments? I could have a talk with her, you know.”

“It’s not homework, Miss Natasha. It’s for you and Charlotte. I wanted to make something special.”

“Thank you, honey. I’m sure it will be wonderful.” Mistress put her hand on the side of Juliet’s apron and bunched the fabric up in the middle, exposing Juliet’s diminutive, but ever-perky breasts. She leaned in with her mouth on Juliet’s nipple.

“Charlotte and I would like to show you our appreciation for your efforts. Wouldn’t we, baby?”

“Yes, Mistress.” I dropped my head to the other side and went to work. Mistress lifted her onto the counter beside me, and things went from there. Juliet missed out on the coffee treatment, but then she had two tongues working on her, so I suppose it kind of evened out.

“Feeling any better about life, honey?”

“Yes, Miss Natasha.”

“I’m not entirely convinced,” Mistress said and lowered her mouth again. I watched her cheeks sink in as she sucked.

We did eventually get our waffles, but Juliet had lost her apron and it was coming up on noon when we all sat down.

* * *

Mistress wandered off upstairs to read for a while. I sat down at the piano and entertained Bella with a few of my favorite jazz standards. I’m not sure where Juliet went.

“Let’s go find her,” I said to Bella as I stood up.

I found her. She was in the laundry room, washing Mistress’s stockings with tears streaming down her cheeks.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Darling, I’m sorry. I was just teasing about you curdling the milk this morning. Sometimes my humor–“

“It’s not that Miss Charlotte. It’s Miss Natasha’s stockings. They’re so beautiful,” she said, her voice muffled by the length of silk she held up to her face. “It makes me sad, because I’ve never seen such beautiful stockings.”

“Darling, are you okay? You sound like… I don’t know…”

“Oh, Miss Charlotte.” She turned and laid her head on my shoulder. I felt a hot tear on my skin.

“I was going to wait until after dinner,” she said. “I wanted to make something special for you. Paneer tikka masala, because I know how much you like it. Both of you.”

“Darling, do you want to sit down?”

“My band, Charlotte. They’re going on tour. I mean we… We’re going on tour.”

My body tensed. “They’re… You’re…”

“Going on tour, Charlotte. I wanted to tell you, but–” She sniffled.

I took her hand, lacing my fingers with hers. “Come on, darling. We need to find Mistress.”

* * *

Such Beautiful Stockings


I aydınlı escort knew Miss Natasha was lying in bed reading, propped up against the head board with a pillow. I could see her bare foot up toward the middle of the big king-sized bed. My mind filled in the rest of the details, because her foot was all the farther I got with my eyes. Meeting her gaze was proving impossible for me right now.

“What’s up girls? Want to grab a book and join me?” Her voice was cheerful.

“Miss Natasha,” I croaked. “I was going to tell you after dinner, but–“

“Tell me what, honey?”

“I made paneer, because I know how much you love tikka masala…”

“And your stockings are so lovely,” Charlotte threw in, but she was being catty, and I had bigger things on my mind, so I ignored her.

“Why don’t you girls climb up here with me?”

We did. Miss Natasha was in the middle, with her silk robe loosely tied around her waist. She wrapped an arm around me and pulled me over so that my cheek was resting on the bare skin of her shoulder. Her marvelous breasts filled my view. Usually, this gets me all quivery on the inside and leads to drooling. Today, I just leaked a tear.

I glanced up at Charlotte, who was snuggled in on the other side. She nodded in my direction.

“Miss Natasha. My old band, the um, The Mighty Mighty Big Fish, they’re… uh… we… we’re reforming for a tour.” I wanted to wipe the tear away before I dripped on Miss Natasha’s lovely skin, but I was afraid I’d lose my nerve and not be able to finish what I needed to say.

As it was, she rubbed it away with her thumb.

“I assume that means you’ll be away now and then. I wish we could have discussed this, but–“

“It’s an Asian tour, Miss Natasha,” I blurted and then sniffled. “Apparently, we’re big in Japan. But, I haven’t said yes… Not yet.”

The bed shook, but it wasn’t any of us. Bella, not wanting to miss out, had jumped up was making a space to lie beside me with her head at the foot end of the bed.

“But you want to?”

I sniffed again and nodded weekly.

Miss Natasha set her book aside and touched a hand to my shoulder. “Will you be able to come home from time to time?”

“Are you sure you want me to?”

Miss Natasha sat up straight. “Juliet Vargas, I will not listen to any talk like that. You are a part of this family. You are always welcome under this roof, no matter what happens.”

Even Bella got in on the moment of motherly admonishment and shifted to lay her muzzle on my calf.

“I– I–” I actually was at a loss for words. This was new territory for me. Until this summer, it had always been me looking after myself.

Charlotte reached over and touched my cheek. I felt another tear rolling down. Things were different now.

“I meant to… It’s a good opportunity… The soundtrack project… with the delays.”

“Shh,” said Miss Natasha, and set her hand on my shoulder. “You’re a big girl, Juliet. I’m sure this wasn’t a hasty decision.”

“No Miss Natasha.” I sniffled. “I haven’t told them yes. Not yet.”

“Shh.” She held a hand out to me.

I felt my lip starting to quiver and buried my face in Miss Natasha’s chest.

“Will you still be able to get us backstage?” Charlotte asked. “Like before.”

I peered up. “Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Great,” said Miss Natasha. “Do you know how many frequent flier miles I racked up when I was traveling for work all the time? I’d love to use some of them.”

“You’re not mad?”

“We’ll miss you terribly, darling,” Charlotte said. “But, we’ll always love you. Like Mistress said, you’re part of our family.”

“I– I love you guys.”

I’m not sure what they said in response, because I was too busy bawling my eyes out. There were lots of hugs, though, which was nice.

* * *

It was coming up on dinnertime. I had the naan bread warming in the oven, the rice was almost done and the smell of tikka masala sauce had been filling the house for a while now.

In the other room, Charlotte was sitting at the piano. She had offered to help, but I wanted to do this myself. I needed it to ease my guilt. They were so calm. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but all I got was teasing from Charlotte.

For the past ten minutes, she had been tinkling out the longest version of Patti Labelle and Michael McDonald’s hit, On My Own, that I had ever heard. And occasionally she would sing along to the chorus, loud enough to carry into the kitchen.

She knew I knew the words. And I knew she was needling me on purpose.

“You’re not making this any easier, Charlotte.”

“You said you had it all under control. Didn’t need any help. I’m just providing a little pre-dinner entertainment.”

I didn’t need to see her face to know she was smirking. I grumbled for a second, then the rice timer beeped. Charlotte was working her way around to the chorus again.

“I could always switch to All By Myself.” She tinkled out a few notes of the chorus. “You like Eric Carmen? Rachmaninoff?”

“Dinner’s ready in five, Liberace,” I hollered. I moved the rice off the burner to sit. “Maybe make yourself useful and pour the wine?”

Charlotte blew a raspberry and started back in with On My Own.

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