by Diana Hunter
The afternoon’s activities had tired him as well. Pulling the covers up over them, and snuggling into the bed, he spooned his body against hers and together, they slept away the rest of the afternoon.
* * * * *
The room had gone dark by the time Sarah awoke. She felt his arm over her and lay there, feeling his protection. What a glorious afternoon it had been. She had never known pain could bring such pleasure. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, she reached up and squeezed her breasts gently, feeling around the nipple. There was only the mildest memory in them of the pain they had earlier felt. Moving slowly, she rose from the bed, not disturbing his slumber.
She went to wash up, only to discover she’d already been washed; his thoughtfulness touched her. Her husband certainly wouldn’t have done such a thing. Not because he was a bad person, but because it just never would have occurred to him to do such a small service for her. In the kitchen, she turned on a small light and looked at the time. Almost 7:00. No wonder her stomach was growling! Peeking into the fridge, she saw a bowl of beef, already marinating. Upon further investigation, she found other indications of what he’d intended for dinner.
Donning an apron, she decided to let him sleep and surprise him with dinner. Was it a slave-type thing to do? She shrugged. Maybe, maybe not. No way to learn but to do it and see. She crossed the kitchen clad in her cuffs and apron, stopping about halfway across at the feel of the cloth against her skin. This was the most amount of clothing she’d had on since she’d arrived almost twenty-four hours earlier. The thought made her smile—and horny again.
But the full apron, slipped over her neck and tied around her waist, was a necessary item when working with the stovetop. She didn’t want to splatter and burn her stomach—or anywhere else for that matter. Puttering around the kitchen, she started the dinner then set the table for two. On a sideboard, she found a set of candlesticks, the candles in them already burned about a third of the way down. She set them on the table—a romantic dinner by candlelight. Just what she would’ve ordered, had she been the Mistress.
Quietly she went to the bedroom door and checked on him—he still slept soundly. Dinner was still a half an hour away; she’d let him sleep. Back in the kitchen, she pulled a stool up to the counter to wait.
She was still very puzzled by this slave thing. He said earlier that her body had always known something was missing. How had he known that? She examined the leather cuffs. There wasn’t much special about them that she could tell: just a wide belt but made for a wrist. A lock held it in place, making it difficult for her to remove. It was a small lock and she probably could pick it or just break it open by slamming it with something, but there was more to it than that. It was a symbol of her slavery.
How often in her daydreams had she imagined cuffs or ropes binding her wrists? How they felt so real sometimes that she’d look for the rope burns. She’d always laugh it off, saying to herself that perhaps she’d been chained in a former lifetime. But now she wondered, what if it wasn’t a former lifetime? What if it was a desire for something in this life? She shook her wrist, hearing the little tinkle of the lock against the clasp of the cuff—it just sounded right in her ear.
The potatoes boiled over and she jumped from her reverie. Turning them down, she stuck a fork in them—done. Time for Master to get up.
But he beat her to it. She turned from the stove and he was standing in the doorway. Only the stove light was on and his face was in shadow. He was naked, but was he angry that she’d cooked for him?
Phillip had awakened to the smell of dinner cooking and had lain there for several minutes, just enjoying the fact that she’d taken the initiative to go ahead and get it started. Listening to her bustle around the kitchen, humming a snatch of a tune caused that warm feeling to grow again in the pit of his stomach. What was this woman doing to him? Did he really dare to dream?
And when the tension in his belly got too strong, he had gone out to the kitchen. Only one small light burned over the stove—and fluorescent wasn’t flattering for any face. Except hers. There was no mistaking it. Sarah Simpson-Parker was a beautiful woman.
“I see my slave has been busy while I slept.” She still could not tell his mood from his voice. “Y…yes, Sir,” she stammered. “I thought to surprise you—and serve you for a change.”
He stepped into the light and with relief she saw his smile. “I like that my slave wants to serve me.” He pulled lightly on the apron. “I also like that my slave has enough common sense to protect herself in the kitchen.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “I’ll go shower; will it be ready soon?”
“Yes, Master. By the time you return.”
He left and she almost danced across the kitchen. He liked her surprise! Quickly now she finished the dinner, mashing the potatoes and setting the meat and vegetables out on a platter and bowl respectively. The water stopped in the shower and she lit the candles.
When he returned, he had dressed in a dark pair of slacks and a crisp white shirt, open at the collar. Sockless, he looked very handsome, and very sexy. Her breath caught in her throat as he seated himself while she placed the food on the table. Taking off her apron, she sat next to him, her nudity now more comfortable than the apron.
To her surprise, he said grace. She served him first, making sure he had plenty of everything before filling her own plate. Waiting for him to take the first bite, she tried to do what she thought a servant would do.
They talked all through dinner and into the night. Where they’d grown up, about their families, what life had given them and what they’d made of it. One of the candles guttered and went out before they realized it was almost midnight and the table was still littered with the dinner’s remains.
Laughing, they cleaned up the mess, and did the dishes. The simplicity of the act aroused him as he watched her padding barefoot and naked around the kitchen, tidying up. Phillip caught her in his arms and covered her mouth with his kiss. After their nap, neither was tired; Sarah could see the desire in his eyes and knew it matched the desire in her own.
“Come, my slave. I want to play with you one more time before I sleep.”
Thrilled, she followed him to the bedroom. With a sweep of his arm, he cleared the bed of sheets and blankets and gestured to her to once more stretch herself out along the bed. When she made a move to put her hands over her head, he stopped her. “No. Tonight you will lie with your arms at your sides. They will not be bound—but you will not move. This is my command.”
She realized he was testing her resolve. Smiling, she lay in the center of the bed, her arms at her sides, her legs together. He smiled at her determination, and set to work weakening that resolve of hers. Moonlight streamed in through the window and backlit him as he undressed for her.
Slowly and with a cat-like grace, Phillip unbuttoned his shirt. Button-by-button his chest was revealed until his smooth skin was bared to her sight. Strong muscles gleamed in the moonlight as he tossed his shirt to the side and stepped toward her naked body; he was the predator and Sarah trembled to realize she was the prey.
His eyes never left hers, holding her in his gaze. She tried to look away, but the slow removal of his clothes mesmerized her. His gracefully long fingers now bent to unzip his pants. As they fell, Sarah saw he wore nothing underneath—only the thin fabric of his shirt and his pants had been between them all evening long. Naked in the moonlight, his eyes locked on hers as his cock grew to its wonderful length.
Sarah’s breasts rose and fell as her breath quickened. Using all her willpower, she kept her hands at her sides, even though her fingers cried out to caress that magnificent shaft of his. She wanted to feel the velvety softness with her hands—a softness she had already experienced with her lips. Opening her mouth now in remembered service, her tongue crept out to lick along the side as desire coursed through her.
With the graceful stride of a lion, Phillip moved out of the light to stretch beside her on the bed. He brushed
her nipples with the palm of his hand and leaned into her ear, licking along the edge. She moaned at the pleasure and squirmed.
“Do not move, my slave.” She stuck her tongue out at him and lay still. He laughed. “I think I can find a better use for that tongue.” He kissed her then, reminding her that he’d already claimed possession of her mouth. Their tongues entwined and again she needed every ounce of her willpower to keep her hands to her sides.
Phillip’s kisses moved away from her mouth and down her neck, traveling to her soft, ample breasts. His lips sucked each nipple in turn and Sarah gasped as his tongue circled and sucked, fondling her breasts as he parted her legs with his knee. Obediently and eagerly, she spread wide for him. He grinned as he moved in between them. “My, my, slave. Do you want something?” He tugged on her nipple and she moaned in remembered pain and pleasure. “Answer me, slave. Is there something you want?”
“Oh, yes, Master,” she breathed.
“What is it? What is it you want, slave?” He rolled the nipple hard between his fingers, causing her to cry out in desire.
“You, Master! I want you. Inside me.”
“I have possessed your mouth and your ass, slave. Do you wish me now to possess your pussy?”
She arched her back as his fingers now trailed along her stomach and stopped, petting the hair covering her mound. “Yes, Master. I want you to take possession of me—all of me.”
He smiled and let his fingers continue downward, caressing the wet lips of her pussy. She wriggled under his touch and he needed to remind her again. “You may not move, slave. I have commanded it.”
For answer she moaned in frustration, but lay still. His finger slid along her clit and she cried out again, but did not move. Ever so slowly, his slid his finger inside her, feeling her warmth and willingness to have him. Sliding his body down the bed, he dragged a pillow along with him. “Lift your hips,” he commanded. When she quickly complied, he pushed it under her bottom, raising her to a more convenient level.
Now he leaned down and she could feel his breath on her pussy lips. No one had ever eaten her before—ever. She felt his tongue slide over and between her lips and gasped as it found her clit.
“Oh, Master! I’m going to come!”
“No, you aren’t. Not yet. You will hold it until I say so. Understood?” His voice was muffled by her legs. She didn’t know if he saw her nod, but she didn’t trust her voice. Instead she grabbed the sheet under her hands, holding on as if for dear life.
Phillip’s tongue licked along her pussy, over her clit, then down again, parting the lips as they went. He had tasted several women in his life and each one had their own distinctive scent and taste. Sarah was slightly salty, her musky scent filling his nose as he flicked his tongue out to lap up a generous portion of her juices. There was no doubt the woman liked his handling of her. Again that full feeling of satisfaction settled in his belly as he pushed deeper with his tongue.
Sarah felt his tongue enter her, possessing her the way he’d possessed every other part of her. Her breasts heaving, she held back tears as she tried desperately not to come.
And then he was leaning over her. “Are you ready for me, slave?”
“Yes, Master. Please!” She ended on a scream as he thrust into her, possessing her body with his cock. He pulled out his entire length and pushed into her again. She moaned, her body writhing, her control in tatters.
“Now, slave. Put your arms around me now and come with me.”
Yes! She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, opening up for him, letting him in, riding him as he rode her. His mouth covered hers and his tongue entered her as she responded with passion. Sarah tasted herself on his tongue—a taste she’d never known before. Abandoning reason and thought, she opened herself to him and gave him her entire being. Eagerly her tongue sought his, wanting to lick her own juices from his mouth. He slammed into her body, forgetting to be gentle as the lion inside of him responded to the submissiveness that now awakened in her. Together they reached their climax and Sarah felt Phillip’s cock pulse as he emptied his seed inside her—marking her—making her his own. The realization made her climax again—he had claimed her; she was his. Over and over they rocked together, their voices groaning as one as their orgasms ran their course.
Afterward, they lay entwined for an eternity—for time had ceased to have meaning. How long they made love, she did not know—did not care to know. He explored her with his mouth and she did the same to him—wanting to know every inch of him. Phillip’s fingers gentled, letting his tongue bathe her skin; making her shiver in the waning moonlight. Sarah too, joined in the bath—sucking his nipples and tasting the hollow that ran from his neck to his stomach. But as the fire of their passion lit anew, his fingers grew more insistent and her mouth more eager. When he grew hard once more, he took her, at her fervent invitation.
Their bodies almost spent, this time they rode the gentle waves of an orgasm together, softly rocking in each other’s arms. He came inside her again, and Sarah felt the sticky wetness add to the ample amount of come already between her legs. Too tired to move, the two fell asleep, her head on his chest, his arm around her waist.
* * * * *
She woke up in the morning uncuffed. Surprised, she sat up, examining her empty wrists. How odd they felt. The water shut off in the shower and she waited for him, expectantly.
The door opened and he came into the bedroom, toweling his hair dry and completely naked. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his muscular body. With a sudden lurch, she realized this was the first opportunity she had been given to see him totally nude. Yesterday morning he was already dressed by the time she awoke. And during their lovemaking in the afternoon, she had felt his naked skin next to hers, but he had been behind her the entire time. Last night she glimpsed him in the moonlight. This morning, he stood there in all his glory.
And glorious he was. Those broad shoulders, now shirtless, lived up to the potential discovered by the exploration of her fingers the night before. She knew those shoulders to be hard-packed and tight with power. His wet hair dripped onto his skin and droplets rolled down along his chest; her eyes followed the little trail of water as it coursed along his smooth, well-muscled chest to gather in the little hollow in the center of his flat stomach.
He was not erect this morning, yet even in a dormant state, his cock impressed her—had she really taken that entire length into her ass? She squirmed and shifted as she continued to watch him. He had a runner’s thighs and she watched his muscles ripple and stretch as he moved across the room.
Phillip took his time in the doorway. He was vain enough to realize her gaze was an appreciative one and he let her look her fill before crossing to the bed.
“Morning!” He smiled at her and she rose for a kiss. He gave her a light one, and a tap on the bottom. “Take your shower, my dear. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
She hurried through her morning ritual. Every moment away from him was a moment of the day lost. Still, washing the remnants of last night’s lovemaking from her pussy, Sarah smiled, feeling very contented with her weekend. Phillip filled her mind and she wanted to be with him.
Coming back into the bedroom, her hair still wrapped in its towel, she saw her clothes had been moved from the chair to the bed. The meaning was clear: she was to dress. With some trepidation, she did so. Did this mean he was done with her? What if she wasn’t done with him yet? Putting aside her sudden doubts, she picked up her panties and slipped them on.
The clothes felt awkward on her—she’d been naked all weekend and had just gotten used to the feeling of freedom. Now her clothes confined her in a way she’d never realized before and made her self-conscious. Dressed, she made her way to the kitchen, where he sat just as she’d found him the morning before. But where yesterday, her nudity made her uncomfortable, today her clothes did. For a completely different reason, she found the ground this morning just as shaky as she had before.
“Please sit down, Sarah.” It was the first time since Friday that he’d used her name. It sounded odd, but she did as she was told.
He took her hand and looked at her gently. After their coupling of the night before, he knew setting her free would be difficult on the both of them. And yet, it had to be done. He wanted her as his slave—but she needed the freedom to come to him on her own. Only that way would he truly own her—only that way would she truly be owned.
“I have to release you now, Sarah—our twenty-four hour trial is over. Besides, you have other things to attend to this weekend and so do I. I will take you home soon and you will resume your life just where you left it on Friday.” He paused, searching for the right words. “It is my hope that you will come here at the end of the week.”
She caught his meaning. He was releasing her—during the week she would live as she always had—on the weekend, she would become his slave, if she wanted to.
“I will not ask you to make a decision today—in fact, I don’t want you to. You need to take the week. Put some distance between your experiences here and get back to your life before. Only then can you decide.”
She knew what he was saying was wise. Right now, her decision would be based on emotion alone. The weekend had been filled with glorious sex, but little else. And she wanted more. It was comforting to discover he did too.
She nodded her understanding. “Yes, Phillip, I understand. When I make my decision, how can I let you know?”
“I will be here on Friday. Once work has finished for you, drive here instead of going to your apartment. Pack a change of clothes, because, if you do come, you will not leave until Monday morning when you leave for a regular week of work.”
There was no mistaking the authority in his voice. The latent power stirred her and she knew if she showed up at his door on Friday, he would make good on his statement. The thought thrilled her.