Perched on the highest point of the green, uneven fields, which looked like waves frozen in time, Walter Scott's house was a sight to behold. On a foggy day, like today, the building hid its beauty until someone came very close. And when they did, it looked more like an old cathedral. The exposed, brown pattern - bricks made up the walls which rose high, cutting through the mist until they joined at the top to form a slanting roofline. Distinctive, carved wooden boards adorned the end sections of the pitch roof. The bricks were rough, on purpose. They looked incomplete. Opposite to the house, a few feet away, was a sprawling garden, rich with roses (pink and red), lisianthus, bluebells, snowdrops and white lilies. In the center, a two stepped, white fountain installation completed the garden. From afar, where he'd built a small shed to keep his tools, on clearer days, Walter Scott would sit on his garden chair and admire the building. He had built it as an homage to the gothic architects. New buildings were boring, he thought. No soul, no heart. Just computers and their hateful designs. Such blasphemy!
Today though, as the sun set and the gulls flew, singing their songs, Walter, sitting on his chair, sipping his evening tea, was not thinking of his house. Alice H Brown, his dear Alice, had called him Master today morning and not his house, or his garden, or the fountain, were good enough to seduce his mind away from her.
Just a thought of Alice, and he wanted to see her. Gulping down the rest of his drink, he walked to the ancient-looking house, his feet tapping on the illuminated pathway. For a man in his mid - forties, Walter Scott was very fit. Not magazine fit. But, fit enough to make twenty - something gym goers jealous. He didn't have abs. He had muscles that were born of hard work. Hard, physical labor. Though he had a 9 to 5 job that paid very well, Walter worked on this land every evening. It was his refuge from the chaos of the outside world. His bubble of peace and calm. As he passed the garden, Walter smiled. Months of work. Picking the plants, choosing them in a way that they would complement each other, then actually planting and nurturing them - it made him proud. Entering the house, Walter walked straight towards the room where Alice was sleeping. He stopped near the door, pausing to admire his Alice. There, on his bed, beneath the white quilt, she was sleeping. Her black hair lay tousled on the pillow as she breathed peacefully. Walter never came to grips with how lucky he was to have met her. He walked over to her sleeping figure and removed the covers off her. Kneeling beside the king size bed, he ran his fingers over the delicate, ivory color skin of her face. He held the bridge of her pointed nose for a moment, before trailing his fingers on her lips. Large, ripe, pink lips. Lips that looked so enticing when wrapped around his cock. Unable to resist anymore, Walter undressed.
Alice H Brown opened her legs wider. She wasn't completely awake yet, but she knew what was happening. Walter was waking her up. To be precise, his tongue was. Between her legs, just below her clit, he was drawing circles. Just there, incessant, without a pause, he kept lapping at her, holding her hips when she began to grind. Half awake, Alice moaned. She loved being woken up like this. Her hands moved to his hair, bunching them in her hand, she pulled him closer. Walter paused for a moment.
"You're awake, love?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," Alice moaned. "Please don't stop."
Her hips rose higher as Walter resumed his caressing. She felt control deserting her as passion took over. Walter, at times, like today, could be a very delicate lover. But one thing he never did, was rush. He took delight in making her beg for what she craved, extracted every ounce of pleasure that he could, before giving her mind - numbing orgasms. And as he relished her, Alice was very close to begging. She clutched the sheets in her hands, her need mounting as his tongue worked its magic, gliding on her wet folds. Walter stopped for a moment. Alice lifted her head from the pillow to look and what she saw made her blush. He was inhaling her scent, her arousal. Unable to look, she let her head down and bit her lip.
Walter let out a chuckle and kissed her sensitive nub. He loved her blushes for they reminded him of their first few days together. Hiding her charms, blushing furiously when he made her display herself for him, trying to control the noises she made, but eventually losing control and screaming her way through orgasms. He wanted to fuck her, now. He wanted to hear her scream, see her blush, laugh as she tried to suppress her desires. Today, now, as black splashed the skies outside and the night chill set in, Walter wanted to fall in love with Alice all over again. With a final kiss to her thighs, he got up.
Alice looked at Walter as he stood up and drank her beauty. His eyes moved all over her body before meeting hers. With a smile dancing on his face, in long, slow strokes, Walter began to masturbate. Sure, there were things that made her blush even today, but Alice was a changed woman. She no longer hid herself. As Walter gawked at her, she encouraged him. Pulling the back of her feet to her ass, she spread her thighs, offering her love, complete view of her pussy. She wanted him to look. Look at how, under his stare, her nipples got hard. How wet she was, how much she wanted him to fuck her. Grazing her slick pussy with a finger, she put on her best puppy face and asked, "Will you please fuck me Master?"
She got the response she wanted. Walter's cock twitched and in that deep voice, like the low rumbles of the deep oceans, he commanded, "Turn over."
With a mischievous grin on her face, Alice obliged. She felt his hands on her hair, stroking, before bunching it in his hands.
"You've turned into such a slut, love," he said and kissed her ear.
Exposed, unguarded, Alice took a sharp breath as Walter's hand moved to her ass. He cupped her right cheek before giving it a tight slap. He liked the way her flesh bounced when he slapped her. Getting on the bed, he knelt beside her and delivered another spank. Alice moaned. Walter smiled as her ass began to take on a pink shade.
"How well she bruises," he thought, bringing down his hand again and grinned when an "ohh...," escaped Alice's mouth. He brought his lips down to her ass and kissed.
Alice, on her part, wanted more. Supporting her weight on her elbows, she lifted her ass up. That seemed to do the trick.
"What a wanton slut," she heard Walter say and the slaps got harder.
Over the course of the last few months, Alice had discovered that she loved being humiliated. It stirred up an inexplicable, deep seated desire. She thought of the first time he had called her a slut. They were on this very bed and Walter was beside her, his fingers in her cunt. She was blindfolded and as he fucked her with his fingers, he had kissed her ear and whispered.
