Sweat beaded across my skin, dripping downward with gravity then settling into any dips and curves. Luckily, I am nude, so the moisture accumulating on my body won't soil a perfectly good outfit. That is how He prefers me: nude, save we have company. Even though it is a chilly mid-November day, I am still wiping sweat from my brow; embarrassed every time I raise my arms. But, He will be home soon and I wouldn't dare be caught bathing without His approval first.
My list of chores is nearly complete. All that is left uncrossed is to make sure a fire set in the fireplace by five pm. With only fifteen minutes to spare, I make a dash to the living room and drop to my knees. I am now eye level with the firebox, which is filled with remanence from the last flame. Using the small iron shovel, I gather as much of the soot as I can and dump it into the metal bin. As I remove the debris it causes black dust to plume into the air and easily, it adheres to my damp skin.
I cough, sweeping my hand in front of my face to try and clear the ashy air. I am sure that there are only a few moments to set my fire, making my movements lightning fast. I roll old newspaper to stick here and there. Then, a few thin logs get stacked in a sort of triangle. I place tinder in the form of small spindly sticks in and around my logs; I run my hand along my cheek. The lighter click, click, clicks. Click, click, click. And with a woosh, the small branches catch sending hungry flame up along the paper. The fire hungrily licks at the dry logs, easily using the bark to start a fire of substance.
I place the grate in front of the firebox and fall back onto the hard floor, it is cool against my bare skin. Just as I sigh with relief, I see Him standing in the threshold of the living room from the kitchen. He came in through the back door.
I clumsily get to my feet and look at the ground. My eyes are glued to my feet. I hear His shoes, heal then toe, slowly hitting the wood floor as he nears. Heal, toe. Heal, toe. Finally, He stands toe to toe with me. The pointed tip of His dress shoe right up against my bare feet. I work to keep my breath steady. I have no reason to be nervous, I have done my chores, but somehow He always has me staggering.
"You look like you've had a productive day," His voice is like a snake charmers flute, sending a shiver up my spine.
I just nod, never pulling my eyes up. I hear Him chuckle and my chest tightens.
"You didn't think to clean yourself up for me?" He asks, a hint of... something lingering in His voice. I am speechless. I know the rules, had I cleaned myself I would have been punished. He is toying with me.
To my non-answer, He places his hands on my shoulders and spins me to face the wall. He lists my chin so I am looking at myself in the mirror we have hung there. First, I see Him. His perfect skin, His strong bone structure, His dark eyes staring at me.
My eyes follow his and I see myself. My pale complexion smeared with caked on soot. I look like a school girl who has gotten into her mothers eye makeup for the first time. But I also could pass for a chimney sweep and or the person who shovels coal into trains. Nevertheless, what I don't look like is a match to the perfect man standing behind me.
I look down again. This time I catch a glimpse at my hands, also covered in ash. I notice specks of dirt covering my chest as well. All around, I am a mess. How could I present myself to Him this way? I should have broken the rules and bathed.
My thoughts are broken by the sound of deep breathing behind me. I tense. I hear it again. This time, He leans against my neck and inhales slowly. I am shivering.
I know he smells my sweat. I just know punishment is ahead for me. I feel His hands on my arms above my elbows. He squeezes and He inhales again. This time, as He exhales I hear a throaty sound like a growl. I bite my lip.
"Pet," He sighs. "Get to the room. Now."
Without letting a beat pass, I am off. I zip through the halls, up the stairs, and stop only as soon as I am standing in our large bedroom. The sunset casts an orange hue into the room.
I am trying to think ahead, so I go to the dresser along the farthest wall and get out the panel with His favorite punishments. An open mouth gag, a speculum, and a variety of butt plugs. His other toys are hidden through out the room.
I lay His toys on the bed and try to relax; the punishment is always better if I relax.
I can sense Him when He enters the room. His shoes must be off, because I can't hear any steps. I don't dare turn around, I just keep my eyes forward.
I feel Him standing right behind me. He reaches out and pulls me back so I almost fall against Him. I gasp.
He is completely naked, just as I am. I know because I can feel His skin against mine. But more so, I feel his penis against my lower back. Instantly, my heart is racing.
He inhales deeply against my hair. I am confused, we don't usually start like this. I don't like when He does things that I am not trained for. I have no choice but to wait for his instruction.
His hand is on my throat, squeezing and releasing. His other hand rests on my hip.
He pushes His own hips forward, digging His rod into my back. I swallow, feeling heat in my chest. He removes the hand from my throat.
Holding onto His penis, He spreads my cheeks with the tip and lays His meat between my cheeks. I remember this is sometimes called hotdogging. He starts moving just enough to cause some friction, eliciting a moan from me.
He chuckles. "Do you enjoy this pet?" I just nod.
Without warning, He slaps His hand across my ass. I jump forward at the harsh contact.
"You know better than to moan like a slut before I give permission." I get another slap.
This time, He pushes me forward so I am bent over the corner of the bed. He forces my legs apart. Another slap, but to my other cheek this time.
His hands, one on each cheek, pull in opposite directions. He is staring at my crack and my rosebud. I feel the cool air on my delicate skin.
Then, I feel the heat of His skin. Again, His cock is nestled in my crack.
He starts humping against me. His motions push me into the bed, causing the corner of the mattress to rub against my clit. I clench the sheets.
Moans are coming from behind me, He is enjoying Himself. My mind fills with the idea that He is using my body to pleasure Himself. Those thoughts along with the friction from the bed are driving me mad.
Then, He stops. He pulls away from me. I want to turn around and jump His bones, to ravish Him and have Him do the same to me. But I know better.
I wait. It feels like years.
Suddenly His hands are on my lips. He tugs at the hair, reminding me of His demand that I not shave. He enjoys the smells and feeling of pubic hair.
He pulls my lips open, exposing what I know is the dark red, fleshy, moist vagina. He loves looking at my sex, exploring and studying my colors and smells. He admitted once that spreading my vagina open was one of His greatest pleasures.
I am happy to indulge Him.
He uses for fingers, two from each hand, to reach in and pull me open. I hold back a gasp. I know I am soaking wet at this point.
I frown to myself and His fingers are removes. I need more, but have no right to ask.
"Lay on your back," He orders. Naturally, I lift myself onto the bed and lay on my back.
I finally see His full form. He is an Adonis. Muscular, but not bulky. Masculine, but not prehistoric. His penis, jutting from between His legs in an unadulterated display of sexual desire.
Here I am, laying on our bed with my legs spread. My chubby belly only made worse by my position. My small breasts, covered in soot and struggling to look voluptuous. Hair, plain dark brown; overgrown under my arms and between my legs.
I am no match for this perfect man who somehow manages to fool himself into getting hard thinking of me.
Nevertheless, He crosses the room to me. Kneeling between my legs. My bush hides my slit, but He finds it anyway.
