"Troy will be here Tuesday night," He told her, "to work his special magic with the camera. I believe that one of the best possible Valentine's Day experiences should be a documentation of O/our relationship."
she simply smiled sweetly, barely daring to look up from where she knelt beside His favorite reclining chair while Joe Scarborough prattled on. "That would be wonderful, Master. How do You want Troy to photograph U/us?"
He reached over the arm of the recliner to gently stroke her head, petting her like a beloved puppy. "I have an idea in mind," He replied quietly, His gentle confidence and firm decisiveness exuding through both His voice and His touch. "And I believe that it will create a very memorable night for you."
"Thank You, Master," she replied gracefully. "You show Your slave too much kindness sometimes."
"Oh? In that case, across My thighs, now!"
Inwardly, she smiled, eagerly awaiting the lengthy, harsh spanking she had craved all day long.
*****
Valentine's Day had finally arrived. While her Master had been busy at the office all day, she had cleaned the house, even the garage. Rarely did she ever venture outside during the winter, yet despite the permission she had received at the onset of the season of cold, she strode to and from the garage without any special preparation: wearing only her goosebump-embellished skin and her lengthy dark-brown locks.
she had prepared her Master's favorite meal: spaghetti, salad, and wine. The meal nearly ready upon His arrival, T/they had eaten almost immediately, enjoying the quiet time together, her naked feet resting in His lap underneath the table.
"Go prepare," He had finally instructed her. "I have left some items for you upon the bed. No make-up tonight, please."
"But my after-dinner chores..." she had started to ask, but His gesture immediately silenced her, and that was when she knew that this night would be truly special.
Now, standing before the mirror in T/their bedroom, she wondered. she wore the four thick leather cuffs, one for each extremity. she wore a simple, thin, off-white dress, a plain-looking garment so thin that it may as well have been transparent for its lack of socially-acceptable "coverage" of her intimate anatomy; even though she was not standing outside in the snow, her nipples were clearly visible against the super-thin fabric, causing her to wonder just where her Master had located this dress, or at least the material to have this dress made for her.
As she watched her reflection in the mirror and admired the young woman she had become since her awkward teenage years, she brushed her waist-length hair and studied her form, thinking of her image in the same way that her Master must certainly see her. The near-transparent nature of the thin garment could certainly not hide her many curves, and definitely not the two swells upon her chest. she thought of the many times He had restrained her in some way, simply to gaze upon or reverently touch her many curves for eternities on end.
she also thought of the many times He had restrained her in some way, punishing her many curves with one of His many floggers for eternities on end. Sometimes, she truly needed to be disciplined; sometimes, He simply wanted to watch her squirm or even hear her scream for Him.
But this was Valentine's Day. her Master certainly would not hurt her, not on this particular night.
...or would He?
she set aside the brush and cupped her breasts through the barely-there dress. For more than two years, she had served as His slave, being trained to serve Him and, occasionally, His Dominant friends and/or Their slaves. Even in high school, she had realized that she was happiest when she was helping or even serving others, putting others' needs and wants and desires before her own; He had recognized that in her and, acting upon His own interests in BDSM, slowly worked T/their relationship from a standard college romance to one which included bondage play and eventually consensual S&M, until, at last, T/they had graduated and lived T/together as Master and slave.
she squeezed her breasts one final time, imagining that His larger, stronger hands were squeezing them instead. How often had He looped rope or thin leather cord around each breast, or applied various clamps to her nipples, or suckled gently as if He were a newborn babe, or beaten her chest severely just to enjoy seeing the reddening effect? Any treatment – harsh or gentle – of her breasts had always made her feel even more feminine, and, in a very strange and inexplicable way, more loved by her Master.
At last, she made her way downstairs. The dinner dishes and the leftovers had been cleared away, and the basement door was open, with the sound of moving equipment reaching her ears. Barefoot, she descended the many steps into the cool air, finally reaching the basement playroom with her chill-hardened nipples being gently teased by the barely-there dress brushing slightly across them.
Troy was setting up his photography equipment, and her Master was assisting. Troy turned around first and gave her an appreciative smile, a smile she returned without embarrassment, as Troy had seen and heard her in much more compromising positions and situations on more than a few occasions over the years. her Master then turned around to ask Troy a question, then closed His mouth as He saw her standing just inside the doorway, instead extending a hand toward her. she quickly crossed the room to Him, sharing a long, strong hug.
"Everything should be ready in about ten minutes or so," He informed her. "Go stand by Position 2 along the wall."
Reluctantly, she left His hold, and a moment later stood at the required point. The black velvet-covered wall felt quite sensual against her backside; she could also discern the winter temperature permeating the wall, the coolness further hardening her nipples almost to the point of distraction.
