There is a sensual pleasure in doing nothing, lying naked, warming the leather of an old Chesterfield sofa. An intermission in life, time for the mind to drift and muse.
The click of the lock turning, brings me out of my reverie, giving the motivation to rise swiftly from the sofa. Standing, hands behind my neck, head down, eyes lowered, legs apart. Long ago learning this stance, when my Master was teaching me the ways.
His footsteps are coming closer until he is in front of me. "Good evening jane" "Good evening Sir." Speaking when spoken to, without raising my eyes.
When Master has been away for a few days, his ritual is to inspect me. Walking around me slowly, then back facing me. Sir has trained me to remain still and firm in position, his strong fingers sliding over my cunt lips. Cunt, because that is what Sir wishes it called. Every private place he inspects for smoothness. He insists on a smooth, freshly shaven cunt and mound.
In the early days of training, had shaving been forgotten, or not done properly, the punishment would have been firm, at times severe. There was never any reward for poor behavior. No spanking, whipping or toys.
There was just the rope and being tied, in profoundly uncomfortable positions for extended periods of time. A sub learns quickly, with a profound respect and compliance toward her Master.
Finishing the cunt inspection, satisfied as to its smoothness, he whispers softly in my ear "Good girl" and continues to stroke.
The sliding of his long finger inside me, always makes me drag in a breath. A second finger joins the first, moaning as the second pushes inside.
Soft long strokes and then curling, feeling me, inspecting everything my cunt has to offer him. Fingers straightened, pushed hard inside. When standing in the submissive pose, the full length of his two fingers, driven to the knuckle, is painful and he knows it.
It always makes me whimper, always a struggle to stay in position. He also knows there is mutual enjoyment.
Sometimes he will stroke my clitoris to orgasm, the spasms curling me slightly bowed. There is no punishment, for this bowing from the full submissive pose.
Tonight he withdrew his slippery, wet fingers from my cunt, without bringing me to orgasm. "Lift your head and suck my fingers clean" He knows how much of a repellent this is to me, the sweetness of my juices, mild chicken meat taste and smell of the woman.
The salty tang of his cum is my preference, the flavor for titillating my taste buds, especially the first small flow, before the flood.
Lifting my head and accepting his fingers into my mouth, they are licked and sucked clean of their slippery, sweet coating.
He watched me working carefully. No appearance of displeasure is permitted, during the performing of this duty. He taught me to treat this as if cleaning his spent cock after using my cunt.
When my comfort sucking began, he knew his fingers were clean, he withdrew them, kissed my mouth, stroking my cheek at the same time.
Still holding my face, we moved out of the kiss, but he stayed close and looked into my eyes. "Perfect! You may move out of position now." "Thank you, Sir" shuffling my legs back together and lowering my arms.
"Right, well I thought I would give you a special treat tonight jane." He paused. My reaction was an immediate and enormous expectation. He continued "Let's put up the Christmas Tree!"
There was no way to mask my disappointment; it was just crushing. Christmas was not a place for me. Tacky tinsel and cheap, gaudy decorations were just things of total depression and then, of course, the carols in every store.
Christmas was a time to grin and bear, acknowledging the happy season's greetings given, in the same joyful manner back. Christmas had never been a pleasant time for me, even as a child.
Sir laughed and grabbed me around the waist, waltzing me to the silent strains of a Strauss Waltz, around and around we swirled, serenading me with his beautiful baritone voice "tis the season to be jolly, tra la la la la, la la la la."
Looking up at him morosely, he took pity on me. He brought the waltz to a stop and asked "Too much?" Nodded my agreement. "My poor little sub, I am very cruel to you tonight." I sagged my shoulders and dropping my head sideways in mock misery.
All of a sudden, flinging me upward off my feet, into his arms "And what would my sub enjoy doing better than tacky tinsel? Would she like some rope and a little stroking with leather perhaps?" Nodding back at him enthusiastically.
"Right then, go and get your red stilettos and come to the Training Room." Bolting to the wardrobe, finding the red stilettos I stepped up into them and minced back quickly, heels clicking over the tiles, into the Training Room.
Sir looked at me and then down to the shoes, then back up again, nodding his approval. The Training Room looked basically like some forbidding, upmarket, torture chamber. Too many pieces of equipment to describe for this time. Suffice to say it ranged from the relatively innocuous to the downright terrifying.
Sir had made his decision, it was to be something simple. Blindfolding me first then walking me across to two parallel metal bars.
The bars ran from floor to ceiling and faced a large, full-length wall mirror. Sometimes when we played, there would be a blindfold and sometimes not. Positioning me between the bars, telling me to bend and hold my ankles as my Master pushed me forward, holding the back of my neck.
His hand began spreading open my cheeks and stroking at my asshole; the butt plug came next.
