July 30, 2006
Being dominant had affected her throughout her life. Being so competitive at sports and team activities she swore them off at a young age, content to play alone on the swings or to read a book under a tree. Throughout her life she loved watching people. How they interact, how they relate to each other. It gave her a great sense of satisfaction to be able to tell so much from people without speaking to them. When her sadistic side had surfaced she turned this talent into an ability to know when her slaves had enough, and when she could still push them. It helped her determine if potential slaves were serious about their commitment to her. Nothing is worse than a slave who is not committed to serving his Mistress.
It had been a lazy day for her, and although she could have insisted her slaves clean her small home, she did it herself. Having a certain place for everything had its advantages and she didn't feel the need to share any excess knowledge with anyone who did not reside in her home. After she finished her chores, she disrobed and before she could climb into the shower she heard a scratching at the door. She smiled, instinctively knowing which one of her slaves stood outside pawing to get in.
Mistress Donna cracked the door and saw her slave Amine, on his knees staring at the floor in front of her. Although she had been aggravated at him for almost a month now, she never felt closer to him than in the shower or bath. He was always handled her so delicately when he shaved her legs, exfoliated her back and washed her hair. She let out a long sigh, noticing he held his breath waiting for her answer. "Come," she said quietly and put her hand under his chin tilting his face to her. For a time he had been the only slave she had sought to serve her, the only man she has been able to think about, now having fallen out of favor she did not allow him to serve her very often. She was afraid that eventually she would never forgive him for his time of disservice.
In the shower, she stood still as her slave Amine turned on the water, testing the warm with his arm before he would allow the spray to touch her skin. He quickly gathered the bathing supplies from under the sink and smiled at her as the water ran down her body. She smiled at him, drinking in his beautiful being. He was almost 7 years her junior, golden brown skin covering a lean muscular body. Her eyes slowed over the scars that marked his shoulders, his back, the marks under his left nipple where his heart was. Scars she was responsible for, scars that marked him as hers.
He had dark hypnotic eyes that often looked directly into her soul, and dark hair that he kept fastidiously short. English was the third language in his repertoire the first two being Arabic and French. She had found him in Morocco on his way to pray in the afternoon. He had adored her immediately and now as she felt his sure hands on her body, rubbing the sweet smelling soap onto her skin she felt as she did the first day she had laid eyes on him. She felt the butterflies deep within her stomach, and excitement that intoxicated her.
Her eyes rolled back into her head as she swayed back and forth against his hands washing her, rubbing her body delicately, massaging her breasts and her back. She was moaning after a bit of this love-filled washing and when she opened her eyes she immediately looked at her slave's crotch. His cock pressed hard against his white boxer briefs. He saw her watching and he glanced down at himself. "My Mistress, I have missed you. Thank you for honoring me by allowing me to wash you My Mistress," his voice was soft and his eyes full of adoration for her. Her heart leapt into her throat, she turned her back to him.
His body still bore the scars of the most severe punishment she had ever inflicted on a slave. The scars under his left nipple were deep and she had to look away before the tears came. She remembered her anger after he had unexpectantly stopped serving her for a long period of time, so when he had returned begging to be reinstated into her service, she had initially refused. After his begging and urging she agreed that if he could put up with the punishment he had earned, then she would allow him back.
The brutalness in which she punished him made her flinch in rememberance, at the end when her anger had left her and she stood above his bloody crumpled body, she had expected him to crawl away in defeat. Instead, he raised his head up and said, "My Mistress, please do not stop. I deserve more, do not stop until you forgive me, please. Do not keep your anger against me, that would kill me. Please Mistress while I was gone, I was dead. I would rather die at your hands than die alone." She had tried to break him, but had come to the realization that the only way he would break, is if she left him.
