Franks Angels Fantasy 004

Fantasy # 004 - Dinner is served

I open my eyes from an excellent night's sleep to see a magnificent sight I am most usually only blessed with twice a week – Saturdays and Sundays. To open my eyes to it makes my day, every time.

My Master continues to sleep peacefully beside me. Our week is over, the children are with their father and we are alone. He can sleep in for a change. Usually, he is up before the sun, but the weekends are different. They are ours. It is not unlike having a honeymoon on a weekly basis.

For almost a solid minute, I lay motionless, simply watching him. Then I very carefully get out of bed, so as not to wake him. While I may sleep as late as he allows me, I love that I can wake before him on Saturdays. It gives me a little bit of time to prepare myself.

Quietly, I enter the bathroom and begin my daily ritual. Every day it is the same, but on Saturday morning I can do it while my Master is still asleep. I pee, then turn the shower on as I brush my teeth. The one deviation on the mornings the children are not with us is that I do not have to take off my nightshirt. Master has me sleep naked whenever possible. Usually this means there is simply a nightshirt beside the bed, in case I need to cover up should a child need me. No worries about this on the weekends. And so, I put on my shower cap, having washed my hair as always on Friday, so I need not waste Master's time fussing with it over the weekends, and get into the shower.

As the hot water begins to assail my body, I sigh deeply. My muscles are a slight bit sore from Master's enthusiastic use of me the night before. The hot water feels very good on them. I relax a bit before reaching for the soap. Quickly I shower, more out of habit than anything. Shaving my legs takes the longest, as I am so careful to not only get all of the hair, but not to nick the body I've given my Master.

Satisfied, I turn the water off and open the shower door to reach for a towel. I catch sight of myself in the mirror and smile very slightly. Then I whip off the shower cap and wrap the towel around me. Drying myself carefully I hang the towel back up and reach for the lotion I use to keep the skin I've given Master soft and smooth. Once I am done, I turn my attention to my reflection.

I reach for my brush and shake my hair, freeing it from the bun I secured it in for the shower. With strong and confident strokes, I brush my thick and longish hair. Once I am satisfied, I set the brush down and begin to twist my hair into its usual bun. My hair is of a texture and thickness that I do not need pins to hold it in place and as I secure it, I allow myself a moment of pride at this fact.

Looking into the mirror again, I give myself the once over. Feeling I am now presentable, I open the bathroom door and walk naked back into the bedroom.

My Master is still asleep and I spend a moment simply watching him. Looking at him, I feel a flush of pride at being possessed by him. Never have I regretted for a moment my decision to offer myself to him in slavery.

As if he senses me watching him, my Master stirs a bit. He is beginning to wake. I straighten myself and look at him with a slight smile on my face. When his arm snakes out, feeling for me, I watch his eyes as they open. It is only a second before his eyes connect with mine.

"Good morning, my Angel." his voice is only slightly roughened by his sleep. He stretches and props himself up on one elbow, looking at me standing naked before me. A moment later he throws back the covers and sits up.

"Good morning, my Master." I greet him, first looking into his face and then allowing my eyes to lower to his cock, which is up and more than a little hard this morning.

No words are spoken as he rises and heads to the bathroom. He pauses at my side only long enough to twist his hips and hit me lightly with his hard cock. I inhale deeply as he does and close my eyes, suppressing my desire for him.

After a moment he comes from the bathroom and goes back to sit on the bed. He looks at me expectantly and I know what I must say to him.

I straighten myself, setting my legs a little past the line of my shoulders, my back straight, hands loosely behind my back and my chest out. "My Master?" my voice comes from me soft and confident.

"Yes, my little slut?" he replies.

"I present myself to you, freshly showered, for your inspection." I inform him, as I do every morning of every day.

He smiles slightly, but to me it looks a little bit like a smirk. I wonder what he might have planned as he stands and takes a few steps towards me.

There is more than just the smile on his lips, I notice as he approaches me. An intensity burns in his eyes. Something is brewing in his head and I have absolutely no idea what. Every weekend is different and Master never fails to surprise me pleasantly.

As I feel his eyes on the front of the body I've given him, I feel my clit pulse slightly. I swallow my desire for him again and listen for his instructions. "Turn left." he directs.

I turn my body so my left arm is facing him. I look straight ahead, but can feel his eyes taking in every curve of my profile. Between my legs, a slight moisture begins to develop.

"Backside." his voice directs and I swear I hear the slightest hint of laughter in it.

Without hesitation, I turn my back to my Master, the only time I am allowed to and not face discipline. I assume he is inspecting my ass, but I learn it is more when I feel his hands between my spread thighs. He slaps one inner thigh and then the other and I know it means I am to spread my legs wider for him. I do that and feel his hand on my shoulder. Master, leaving one hand on my shoulder and grabbing my hair with the other, pushes me so that I am bent at the waist.

I place my hands on the floor between my spread feet. Master comes around my right side, continuing his inspection. When he slaps my ass, the sound is sharp in the silence of the house. I gasp, but do not move.

"Good girl." he praises me and I feel his hand slide along my ass to the wetness between my legs. When I gasp, moan and move back a bit against the fingers he has out on my clit, I hear him chuckle. "My cunt it wet." he tells me. "Does my slut want to be fucked."

My eyes remain on the floor and I take in a shuddering breath. "Your slut always wants to be used by her Master." I reply, between moans of pleasure as he continues to rub the clit I've given into his possession.

He continues to laugh lightly and I see him move back behind me. In a moment, I feel his hands on my hips, followed by his wonderful hard cock lining up with my dark, hot and wet opening. One thrust and he is completely inside of me. I moan in pleasure as he begins to use the body I gave him.

For many long minutes, my Master fucks me. Grabbing hard to my hips, he pulls me onto his cock and then I am away from it, wanting it more than ever. I keep myself balanced as best I can, panting in the pleasure of being used.

The pleasure begins to mount and I remember quite well that I am not allowed to cum without my Master's permission. His strokes are quickening and I wonder if, should I beg properly, he will allow me to cum with him.

"My Master." I moan. "Please. Master. May your slut cum for you?"

His strokes quicken even more. With a slap on my ass he denies me with a single word. "No, my black cunt. You may not cum."

I whimper my disappointment and do my best not to cum, as he has directed. Just as I feel I have succeeded, I feel him begin to fill my pussy. That in itself is incredibly satisfying to me and I tremble, feeling the warmth of his seed inside me.

Master is still a moment, recovering from his orgasm. Then he bends over my back and grabs my hair, pulling me up and turning me around.

"Clean my cock, cunt." he commands of me.

I do so with pleasure, but he does not release my hair. Tightening his grip, he thrusts his cock into and out of my mouth as I suck eagerly, cleaning him. But, to my disappointment, he withdraws before he gets too hard and he does not cum in my mouth as I had hoped he would.

He pulls me to my feet by my hair, which has fallen out of its bun. The kiss he gives me is passionate and makes my clit twitch with unrequited desire.

During the week, Master says to me "You may dress and begin your day.". But this is the weekend. His words are different when the children are not about.

"You may begin your day." he tells me, skipping the part about my getting dressed. When we are alone, he wants me naked. "Get your hair settled and then get my breakfast ready, my pretty black cunt. I want bacon, eggs and French toast."

My voice is shaky. I am wet, filled with my Masters cum and as randy as a racehorse. "Yes, my Master. May I make myself breakfast as well?"

He looks at me, quite evenly and his voice is soft. "No, baby. You will not be eating breakfast today."

The words make me freeze a moment. I cannot eat? Master has never denied me a meal before now and I am shocked into silence. But I see he is watching me and I swallow and sigh, resigned to his directive. "Yes, Master." I offer him a smile and reach up to re-twist my hair as I back away from him towards our bedroom door. Only when I am through it and out of his sight, do I turn and walk forward, so my back is never to him.

In the kitchen I first set the breakfast table for one, then go to the refrigerator, taking out bacon, eggs, bread, milk and cinnamon. Placing them on the counter, I then reach for my apron, the only clothing I am allowed while cooking, and put it on before beginning the preparations. While I put on the apron, I smile a bit more. The apron is not the usual one I use during the week. It is made of purple leather with black trim. Master had it made for me, knowing purple is my favorite color.

Getting out two frying pans, I place them both on the stove. I turn on the heat under one, but not the other yet. In the heating frying pan I place the raw bacon I will cook for my Master. As it begins to get hot, I get two bowls and scramble eggs in both. Leaving one plain eggs, I put milk, cinnamon and vanilla into the other.

I cook the bacon until is it harder than can be called "soggy" but not "crispy". This is how Master likes it best. Just before I take the bacon out to drain, I place butter in the other pan and melt it. Then I soak two pieces of bread in the mixture of egg, milk, vanilla and cinnamon, then place it in the butter pan to cook. After that I take the bacon out to drain and immediately reach for the bowl of plain scrambled egg and pour it into the bacon grease. Throughout I am glad of the leather apron, so the skin I gave my Master does not get burned.

The smell of the food sets my mouth to watering. I gulp and try and ignore the feeling in my stomach. Missing a meal won't kill me. There is no doubt in my mind, master must be denying me breakfast for a good reason, even if I cannot imagine what that reason might be.

As I cook the eggs with one hand and turn the French toast with the other, I hear my Master's voice as he enters the kitchen. "Smells divine, my love." he tells me, causing me to beam, even though I do not turn to look at him, lest I burn myself. The stove and sink are two of the few places I am allowed to have my back to Master.

Not long after this, the meal is completed and, once I turn off all the fires on the stove, I prepare a single plate. After taking off my apron, I pick it up, and and bring it to the table, where Master awaits his breakfast. Placing his meal before him, I take half a step back and stand straight, as when I am presenting myself, my hands clasped loosely behind my back.

Master looks down at the plate and inhales deeply. He picks up his fork and takes his first bite. The moan that comes from his throat is high praise for my cooking. Feeling a twinge of hunger in my belly, I ignore it, setting my mind to other things. Anything except for food.

Despite my peckishness, I watch my Master eat with pride. My cooking pleases him and, this morning, that must satiate me. I satisfy myself with the knowledge and with it comes more and more acceptance of whatever he has planned for me.

Soon he has finished his meal and he pushes away from the table and stands. He turns to me and takes me into his arms. With a kiss to my forehead he tells me. "An excellent meal, my Angel. Thank you."

"You are more than welcome, my Master." I tell him, feeling warm inside at his words of praise.

He pulls me closer to him, grinding his hips against me. Again my clit pulses in longing. Master nuzzles my neck and I sigh softly with pleasure and hope.

"Now clean the kitchen, then join me." he directs and steps away from me.

"Yes, my Master." I reply, finding myself more frustrated on more levels than ever before.

Still naked, I clear the table and begin washing dishes. I give them a bit more concentration than usual, trying to get my mind off both being horny and having skipped a meal. I'm a bit hungry, but it isn't too bad. There's always lunch.

Halfway through the dishes, I am almost startled when I feel my Masters hands on the full breasts he owns. I do not stop what I am doing, and he presses himself against me. This is how I finish the breakfast dishes – with my Master behind me kneading, pulling and pinching the nipples I happily gave him. When I place the last dish in the drainer, the pussy my Master owns is again sopping wet.

With a kiss to my neck, he backs away from me and leaves the kitchen again. I finish cleaning in the kitchen, wiping down the stove, table and counter tops. Then I am able to leave the kitchen and find my Master.

I find him in the living room in his favorite chair, watching television. He is working on something, and has been all week long. Made of purple and yellow rope is all I know. When I asked what is was, he simply told me not to worry about it and so I put it out of my mind. Walking up to his side, I kneel on the floor at his feet and lean into his leg. Pausing in his work, he reaches down to caress my hair, and then returns to his task.

For what seems to be a long time, I simply sit there with my head against his leg, loving the physical contact with him and enjoying watching the program as he works. Once it is over, he leans forward and begins to squeeze the breasts that he owns. My beck arches, pressing the tits into his hand, and he begins to pinch and pull the nipples.

The sound of my increasingly heavy breathing must reach his ears. He stops his attentions and I hear him as he directs me. "Suck my cock, my Angel."

Eagerly, I move into position on my knees between his legs. Moving one hand to cradle his balls, I lick my lips and suck him into my mouth. Unable to help myself, I moan at the taste of the man who owns me and my hips writhe as the wetness between my legs returns with a vengeance.

Master grabs two handfuls of my hair and begins both to pull my head onto his cock and lift his hips as well. I groan and gasp and try not to choke, but I love it. Sucking my Master is among my very favorite things to do. The faster his hips move – the harder he fucks my face -- the more I look forward to my reward. Drinking his his essence. I feel myself begin to tremble in anticipation.

Just as Master is about to cum, he lets go my hair and grabs hold of my shoulders. He pushes me back with one hand, holding his cock with the other. With a groan, he begins to cum. I feel the heat of his his essence on my bare tits.

Out of my own mouth comes a whimper of disappointment and frustration. I am not often denied the pleasure of drinking my Master's cum, and being denied not once but twice so far this day makes me swallow hard.

He pulls my head up and kisses me hard. "I love you, my Angel." he tells me. "Now be a good girl and clean me up, then yourself."

"Yes, my Master." I nod and lean forward to clean him with my mouth. While I can taste his his essence, it is very different from being allowed to drink his entire load. He is teasing me. And bad.

After I have cleaned him, I stand and back away carefully. I watch him and he pulls out his rope work again. Just before I am able to turn and walk forward, he turns his head to me.

"After your shower, you may go to your tasks of cleaning the house. Once that is done, you may prepare my lunch. You know how hungry using you makes me."

Swallowing hard, I nod again. "Yes, my Master."

In the shower, I wash my Masters his essence off of me. As my hands pass over my now slightly sore and sensitive nipples, I feel as if I may cry. My mind goes over the night and day before, wondering if I had somehow dome something to offend or even anger my Master into the drastic actions of the day. Passing the soap quickly between my legs and over my sensitive and needy clit, I can find nothing I've done. I was a good girl. I always am a good girl, or try to be.

Leaving the shower, I towel dry and take off the shower cap. Then I rebrush my hair, mussed again from Master's grabbing. I look at myself in the mirror for a long time before I am satisfied that I am both presentable and a good girl. Only then do I leave the bathroom.

My Saturday chores are quite light. I arranged it that way, in case Master had plans outside of the house. So the vacuuming is quickly dealt with, taking me no more than an hour. Once I am done, Master walks through the house, checking my work. He smiles once he comes back to the living room.

"A wonderful job, as usual, my Angel." he strokes my hair. "Now time for lunch. Something easy, but filling..." he ponders a moment and then nods. "Of course. Take some of that left over chicken from last night and make a nice chicken soup or stew for me, please."

The idea sounds very good and my stomach, having been denied breakfast, rolls over lazily in approval.

"Yes, my Master. May I cook for myself as well?" I try and fail to keep the eagerness out of my voice.

He strokes my face tenderly and when he speaks, his voice sounds the tiniest bit sorry. "No, my beautiful slut. You will not be having lunch, either."

I blink and bite my lip against a protest. Now, I am actually hungry now, having not eaten all day. When I open my mouth, no protest comes from it.

"Yes, my Master." I swallow a lump in my throat. "I will have your lunch ready for you in about an hour."

Master smiles at me and I can hear definite pride of me in his voice. "Good girl!" he praises me and those words alone, make me smile.

I watch him go back into the living room and, with a heavy sigh, I go back into the kitchen. For chicken soup, I won't need my apron, so I ignore it. Looking in the refrigerator, I see the left over chicken. My stomach protests and I murmur. "Oh, hush up. You heard Master." at it as I take the cold chicken out. Opening the freezer, I pull out a bag of frozen mixed vegetables. The bag tells me it is an "Italian Blend."

I set it aside and go to get a pot, which I fill with water. Setting it on the stove, I turn the fire up high under it and leave it to get hot as I cut the chicken from the bone, resisting strongly the urge to lick my fingers. Meat separated from the bone, I toss it in the pot, then turn right back to grab the bones and throw them away.

Master is standing right there and I almost run right into him.

"Good girl." he smiles at me. "You could have cheated and you didn't." he nods. "I'll remember that." and he turns and marches right back out of the kitchen.

After those words of praise, I would go a month without eating, if that is what master wanted. Without a whimper of protest. The smile on my face is huge as I toss out the chicken bones, wash my hands to rid myself of the temptation of the smell, then turn my attention back to the water.

When it begins boiling, I get the bag of egg noodles and add enough to make it a toothsome dish. Then I add the vegetables and begin to stir. In the steam coming out of the pot comes a smell that makes my stomach grumble at me.