Friday, October 19, 2012

Scene: Slave (1)

The room was cold. He stood by the chair, his hands at his side and his head bowed. Dressed in only a pair of light slacks, he shivered and watched as his toes turned blue. He knew that she'd be coming but he wasn't sure when. He shifted on his feet, trying to will warmth back into his feet. The cold flagstones had a small pool of warmth beneath his feet, but it wasn't enough to make up for the fact that they were bare. Outside the leaded window at his back, the wind howled and snow danced in wild dervish dances.

He contemplated going across the room and turning on the heat, but he knew she'd be displeased. The room wasn't freezing, thus she felt it was warm enough. He tried to figure out how he managed to find himself in this place, waiting on her attention. Things started out innocently enough and then, somehow, everything changed. He heard the door rattle as the one in the outer hallway slammed shut. She was home. He gave a quick glance at the clock, daring to lift his head for a moment.

She was fifteen minutes late. It wasn't just his perception that may have been altered by the fact that he was uncomfortable. He listened to the crisp clicking of her heels on the floor in the hallway. As she opened the door, he quickly ducked his head. She stood in the doorway and regarded him. He was a youthful thing and easy on the eyes. The way he humbled himself for her pleasure simply added to his charm. Everything in his posture bespoke his submission. She smiled. After having a long and rather miserable day at work, it was reassuring to return home to her ever so obedient boy.

She crossed the room to the chair he stood beside. The red leather wingback chair was chilly but inviting. With a sigh, she sat down, glad to be off her feet. She gestured with an elegantly manicured hand towards the thermostat across the room. He adjusted the temperature up to her preferred one and shut the door, taking a quick peek to make sure that the entryway was well secured against the weather.

He silently made his way about the room, turning on lights and picking up her papers and the mail. He finished his circuit and knelt beside her, holding the papers and letters up for her to take. His dark head was bowed, but she knew that he'd have a small smile just for her. She took the papers from him, letting her hand linger against his. He took a small breath in, startled by the warmth of her touch.

“Look at me,” she said quietly. He lifted his gaze and stared at her with his ice blue eyes. She gently set a hand against his cheek. “Are you cold, boy?” she asked. His gaze started to flick away from her face. She knew he was uncertain how to answer. His discomfort was a dissonant note in the subtle visual song of his appearance. “Answer me,” she ordered, her tone turning hard. His eyes widened slightly as they snapped to looking directly into her face.

“I... I am comfortable, my Lady,” he said. She frowned. He failed to resist the urge to look away at her displeasure. The hand that rested lightly on his cheek pulled away and then struck him in a single quick stinging blow. He looked back at her face, seeing her expression wintry and hard as ice. “Forgive me, my Lady,” he said, sounding remorseful.
“What is my rule, boy?” she said.

“To never lie, my Lady,” he said, his words edged with chagrin.

“Now, answer my question, boy,” she said, her tone and expression mild again.

“I am cold, my Lady,” he said.

“Why did you lie?” she asked. He looked away, a flush creeping over his cheek. She allowed him this lapse in protocol, watching as his expression turned flustered. He mumbled something at the floor. She cupped his chin with her hand and raised his gaze up to her face. “Again,” she said.

“I didn't want to trouble you, my Lady,” he quietly murmured, looking utterly chastened. She sighed and lightly rubbed a thumb against his jaw. She regarded him for a long moment and his expression turned increasingly despairing. “I apologize, my Lady,” he said as he looked away, his shoulders sagging with disappointment, “I presume too much.”

“I believe that I have been to hard with you, boy,” she said thoughtfully. He hesitantly raised his eyes and looked at her. His mind flailed as sudden panic slammed into him, was she going to tell him to leave? She smiled kindly and placed a fingertip on his lips. “Stop,” she said, “Just stop. Be still.” He swallowed nervously. “Come with me,” she said, getting up out of the chair and crossing the room.

He followed a pace behind her. Before they left the room, he turned the heat back down. She waited at the door, watching him. Her azure eyes held some kind of softness that he missed as he focused his attention back at the ground. He waited, standing at parade rest as she looked at him. She stepped out of the room and he resumed his quiet following. They walked to the grand entrance and she lead the way up the stairs.

Inwardly, a part of him was delighted. He loved watching the way her hips swayed as she walked and the heels only served to exaggerate this element of her motion. They reached the first doorway at the top of the stairs. She pulled a key ring out of her pocket. She unlocked the room and walked in. He quietly walked to the thermostat and reset the temperature. “Higher,” she said, closing the burgundy velvet curtains hanging at the front of the room.

Outside, snow danced and whirled, sparkling brilliantly in the cold glare of the sun. She shut the cold and the stark light out with the curtains and looked over her shoulder at her slave. He assumed his waiting position near the door. “Close it,” she said, “Then get the light.” She walked over to the large bed sitting in the center of the room. As the honeyed glow of the oil lamp pooled at the dresser and was reflected in the mirror, he seemed to catch the light and shimmer with an aura of sadness.

“Shut the door and come here, boy,” she said, sitting down on the bed. He walked over and knelt at her feet. She held one foot out and he carefully unbuckled the straps. He set the patent leather shoe aside and then did the same for the other foot. She sighed softly as he massaged her aching feet. As he began to turn his attention to her ankles, she lightly tapped her toes on his chest. He looked up.

“My stockings, boy,” she said, her voice almost lost in the whistle of the wind around the corner of the building. He reverently slid his hands up her right leg and beneath her skirt. His fingers skillfully freed the top of the stocking from the garter belt and rolled the silk down her leg. His heart began to beat faster as the warm, soft fabric gathered in his hands. As he slipped it off her foot, she sighed with pleasure. He repeated the action on her left leg, daring for a moment to let his fingertips linger against her ankle.

She smiled down at him again. “You want to touch me,” she said, raising her ankle and pressing the ball of her left foot to his shoulder beside his neck, “Don't you?” He struggled to keep is expression neutral. “It's ok,” she said encouragingly. He looked up at her with a tormented expression. Her eyes lit with realization and her smile became wider. “Ah, my dear, sweet boy,” she said, her tone warm, “Oh, so, so very obedient. Yes, you may touch me.” Relief mingled with pleasure as he turned his head and pressed his cheek against her ankle.

He ran his hands up her calf, delighting in the softness of her skin. He took in a deep breath, tasting the subtle scent of her flesh as he inhaled. He pressed his lips against the inside of her left ankle. His hands shook slightly as he reached higher up her leg. One of her hands settled on his as he covered her knee. He opened his eyes and looked up at her, unable to keep the hunger out of his gaze.

She took her foot off of his shoulder and set it down between his knees. She stood up and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms about her thighs. His face was pressed against her skirt as he just breathed her scent. A mingled rush of lust and gratitude rolled over him as she stroked his hair. He shivered as her fingertips brushed against the back of his neck. His eyes were tightly closed as he pressed his cheek against her thighs.

“Stand up,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. He reluctantly let go and stood. She lightly placed her right hand against his cheek. He closed his eyes and nuzzled her palm, giving a soft sigh. Slowly, she moved her hand down his throat and along the ridge of his collarbone. He stood stone still with a faint tremble as she touched him, his breath catching in his throat.

Gradually, she glided her hand down his chest and across his abdomen until it came to rest on his left hip. She stepped forward, smiling as he opened his eyes. She wrapped her free arm about his body, weaving it under his right arm. As she held him tightly, she pressed her cheek against his. “Kiss me,” she breathed in his ear. He leaned back a little and looked over at her. Her warm smile was all the encouragement he needed.

He returned her embrace and closed his mouth over hers. Their tongues met in a snake dance that drew a small noise of pleasure from her. Emboldened by this, he tightened his grip and kissed her with greater fervor. Her right hand moved up his side and then between them. Gently, she pressed on his chest and he drew back. “My clothes,” she said, unable to keep the touch of huskiness out of her voice.

With the same quiet obedience of earlier, he began to unbutton her blouse. As he slipped the linen off her shoulders, he mentally began to consider if she'd require her robe and which one would be best. He figured that the warmth of the room would make the satin one pleasurable, however, if she were to go to another room, the thick wool one would be superior. Caught up in these thoughts, he failed to notice how she watched him hungrily.

She stood still, almost like a living doll as he gently and efficiently stripped her. His expression was thoughtful but distracted. She decided that she could forgive the inattentiveness. The warmth of his hands despite his state of undress made her heart beat faster. The small, secret smile on his face as he considered how to make her most comfortable belied his own pleasurable reverie. His thoughts of providing simple comfort and making her usual afternoon cup of tea were markedly more innocent then hers.
He waited as she stepped out of the skirt and turned to fold her clothes neatly upon the chair. She stepped forward, pressing her nude body against him. He froze, thoughts shattered like a broken crystal cup on the floor. Her cool hands wandered over his chest as her warm mouth put soft kisses against his right shoulder. His world focused down to the feeling of her skin against his and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

One hand made its way down to his waist. Ever so lightly, she ran her fingertips along the waistline of his pants, slipping one in to dance against his skin. “Get rid of these,” she said in his ear, tugging at his slacks. She stepped back and he straightened. With the same attention to neatness, he removed his clothes and folded them. They sat in a tidy little pile with hers on the chair. He looked down at the garments, torn between the urge to fall at her feet and beg for more and the earnest desire to maintain the air of composure she preferred him to affect.

The bed springs squeaked softly as she sat down on it. “Come here,” she said, her voice rich with amusement, “Come warm me up, boy.” He turned to face her. His stiffening erection caught her eye and her smile grew wider. He walked to the edge of the bed and pulled back the blankets. Sliding beneath the covers, a part of him struggled with the urge to simply pleasure himself. She slipped beneath the covers and wrapped a leg around his waist as she pressed herself against him.

Again they kissed. He knew that he wanted to do more but he was reluctant to act. She took hold of one of his hands and put it on her left breast. With a groan, his control slipped and he broke the kiss. He buried his face between her breasts, licking and nipping at them. She gave a husky laugh of triumph as he wrapped his arms around her.

Pinning her against himself, he covered her bosom with kisses and tiny bites. His mouth felt almost scaldingly hot against her skin, but she didn't mind. In fact, she gave a liquid sigh of pleasure and relaxed in his arms. He bared his teeth and lightly took her nipple in them. Gently, he rolled it between them, sighing at how she seemed to just melt in his arms.

He lifted his head and looked up at her face. Her eyes were half closed with pleasure as a small look of ecstasy seemed to make her almost beatific. He pulled the blankets up higher over them, covering her with their warmth as he turned his attention lower down her body. With tender devotion, he lapped at her sex. Each shuddering sigh made his blood burn hotter but she hadn't told him to do more yet. Instead, he focused upon pleasuring her with his mouth.

As her first climax rolled over her, he could feel her entire body tense. Eagerly, he pursued a second one, wringing small, helpless noises from her. He knew that if he wanted, he could change the tables but he preferred the idea of his gratification waiting on hers. He was, however, for a moment powerfully tempted. As that temptation became almost painful, she lifted the blankets. “Now,” she gasped.

He crawled up her body, pressing himself against her. He couldn't stop himself from delighting in how she squirmed. He knew it was wicked of him to do but the feeling was too strong for him to resist. She wrapped her legs about his waist and with a swift motion, sheathed him deeply inside her. They lay together entwined for a moment.

The bone deep need that drove them into bed was both satiated and inflamed at the same time. Slowly, he began to thrust into her. She made an inarticulate noise of frustration but he paid it no mind. Gradually, he drew successive, hard climaxes out of her. She tossed her head and wept but he continued at his even pace. And then she grabbed hold of his head. She pulled him down into a savagely fierce kiss and that was his signal. He broke the kiss and sought his own pleasure, riding her hard and fast. As his orgasm burst over him, she arched and gave an ear splitting shriek as her hardest and longest orgasm rocked her.

She abruptly collapsed beneath him. Her face was soft and utterly helpless. He smiled at how she had fainted with the force of her pleasure. It was always a sign that he had done well. He disentangled himself from her arms and slipped out of the bed when he felt that he could manage to walk with out stumbling. He tucked the blankets more tightly about his mistress and dressed in silence. He opened her closet and placed her heavy robe over the back of the chair. Making sure that the silver bell to call him was at the nightstand, he then blew out the light and left to go wash her clothes.

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