|Blogs > rm_Enphinitee > My Erotica|
He turned the water off and lit the candles. The smile on his face was dark, but beautiful. There was pride in his eyes as well. She was so good last night. She had disobeyed, but had taken her paddling with out calling out. Her conviction so strong, she dropped to his feet to thank him for disciplining her, Keeping her and shaping her as his. When he awoke her this morning, her body was badly bruised and swollen with welts. She took her place at his feet while he ate the meal she had prepared for him, sitting on her bruises without complaint, swallowing the pain. So, he sent her out to the store, and she would return shortly. He would be ready. The candles flickered about as he closed his eyes. He sat in his chair and looked about the dimly lit room. The room smelled of moisture and roses. The candles flickered about he closed his eyes. He quieted his breathing and waited. He heard her before she got to the door. She opened the door and her look of surprise was evident, even in the dim light. And then she smelled it, and the look got wider, garnished by her beautiful smile.
She put down the few things she had bought on the table. She then reached below it and pulled out her box. She undressed and knelt in the center of the room and awaited his command.
As he watched her undress, the markings of her discipline were evident to him. The beauty of her kneeling in front of him at times took his breath away. She was his. He owned her, but he was by no means stupid and knew how lucky he was to have such an honor. He cherished the gift of her submission to him more than his own life.
He got up out of his chair and walked over to her. Her pulse began to race, as it always did when he was near. The soft touch of his hand upon her head sent shivers down her spine. She felt his fingers burrow deep into her hair and gripped firmly. Oh the pleasure she felt to have him pull her hair was nearly orgasmic. She felt his pull and got to her feet. He was standing so close her nipples were brushing his chest, the soft cotton of his shirt sending little bolts through her hard nipples and racing about her body. He pulled hard, snapping her neck back, and in one motion had his free hand between her thighs and his teeth hard upon her neck.
He could feel his affect upon her immediately. His fingers softly caressed her clit, making her knees week and her hips convulse. He had her on the edge of oblivion and knew it. He quickly withdrew his hand from her pussy and hair. He grabbed her by one nipple and pulled her towards the bathroom.
As she entered, the first things she noticed were the rose petals floating on the water and the heavy scent of rose oil in the air. He led her over to the tub, and kissed her nipple before having her step in. As she lowered herself into the water, her whole body relaxed and absorbed the pampering of the water.
He laid her head on a towel he had placed on the edge of the tub. He softly caressed her face and closed her eyes.
Ever so softly and gently he began to wash her, his hands moving over every inch of her. First he washed her arms, then the legs. And every time the soft washcloth came close to her pussy, she caught her breath. She wanted his touch so bad. The warm water, his touch, her pussy was hot and open, aching for attention. Then he washed her chest and breasts, the washcloth on her nipples sent small orgasmic quakes through her body that were more frustrating than satisfying.
At last his hands moved down her stomach and without stopping slid right into her. The feeling was too much, too intense; she began to cum and cum hard. She heard the shower head turn on, but was lost to the pleasure of his fingers filling her. She felt the hose on her thigh, right before the showerhead was pressed against her mound. The feeling of the water spraying hard on her clit made her scream. His fingers continued their delicious dance within her and she was lost to everything but the pleasure. She did not know when he turned the showerhead off, or when his fingers stopped their dance within her. As reality slowly seeped back in, all she was aware of was him kissing her.
"I love you my slave. Soak, I'll come get you when dinners done."
And he left. Her tears could not be held back. He was cooking for her. He loved her. She was owned. She was his. She was the luckiest woman in the world.