I sit kneeling at the front door trying to stay calm as my heart pounds so forcefully I can hear it thudding in my chest. The sound only makes me more eager; my attention is now keenly devoted to my small supple breasts as they heave under my pale pink satin nightie. My soft brown nipples erect showing just how ready I am for Sir. I sit looking at the tall heavy French doors desperately trying to regulate my breathing. The last thing I want is for Sir to come home and not be pleased with what he sees before him. He likes his things a certain way, all his possessions must be meticulously groomed and cared for... including me. I've been sitting here for almost thirty minutes and I can begin feel a tingling sensation creep up my legs; it feels like pins and needles as my legs fall asleep beneath my thighs.
I turn to take a glance at the glass clock sitting at the end of the long marble hallway. I can barely make it out, but I can see that thirty minutes has progressed to an hour. Where is he? Sir gave me specific instruction to be ready and waiting in his special position at 6:00pm on the dot. Now it's 7:05pm and there is still no sign of my darling Master. Anxiety rushes over me as I try to decide what to do. Is Sir okay? In a flash of panic I raise to my feet, stumble a bit over my numb limbs, and rush to find my cell. I pause momentarily... I'm not supposed to call Sir unless he requests a call at a specific time. But this could be an emergency. I dial his number.
I'm shaking as the phone rings, once, twice, three times and then straight to voicemail. I comforted only slightly at the sound of the even deep tone of his voice on the recorded message. Then I'm paralyzed. He didn't answer.
I walk down the lengthy grey hallway and stop to eye my favorite Salvador Dali painting from his Mythology Suite. Sir has the entire collection, but this particular piece is my favorite; a white pony prancing below a bright blue splash of paint. This piece is softer than some of his other works. I shudder as the juxtaposition makes me think of Sir's duality: soft, attentive and caring and yet strong, stern and intimidating. These paintings are implicitly who he is; wild and twisted, but also tender and beautiful. I'm lost in thought as I hear the key slide and click into the front door's lock, and before I can rush to my position, he's standing there in the doorway.
The sight of him is intoxicating, standing tall in his tailored slate suit, hair neatly combed to one side, grey eyes blazing as he stares at me in the hallway... NOT kneeling before him. I stammer trying to explain, "Oh thank god you're home, Sir. I-I was beginning to get wo—". My words trailed off as the fire grew in his eyes. I turned my gaze to my feet and walk slowly to him, kneeled to my knees and reached for the buttons on his slacks. He grabs my right hand with a swift and firm grip, pushes it away and walks past me down the hallway to his study.
Fuck. I've really messed up this time. Sir is furious and I have no idea what to do to make it better. I sit silently contemplating ways to regain my Master's approval, and then hear his smooth voice call my name from his study, "Eva, come here". My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach and for a moment I can't move a muscle. But that feeling is short lived, any second wasted getting to Sir's side means severe punishment.
The click of my heels against the marble floor haunts me with every careful step. Click. Click. Click. Click—one crimson velvet pump in front of the other. I slide my delicate rose gold collar to the appropriate position as I make my way to Sir.
I am standing in the doorway waiting for instruction as I melt at the sight of Sir sitting in his chair writing. His wavy black hair is a bit disheveled as if he's been running his perfectly manicured fingers trough the tresses. His dark brows are furrowed shadowing his pale grey eyes. Something is on his mind and I don't know if it's work or if it's me. He won't look at me and I can barely look at him as I brush one loose burgundy curl away from my face.
"Eva", he growls and looks up at me for the first time, "What were my specific instructions for you today?"
I can barely choke the words out, "To be waiting in position at the front door at 6:00pm... and I WAS wait—".
"You know I hate excuses, Eva", he hissed in a low controlled voice and continues to write.
"I'm sorry," I say in barely a whisper while my heart pounds.
I see the flash of anger in his eyes as he looks up at me, "Yes, WHAT?"
Fuck fuck fuck! "Sir!" I whimper. "I'm sorry, Sir". Where is my head? What was I thinking? That's the problem, I can't think with him.
"What is wrong with you today, Eva? You fail to complete your one simple task for the day...and you add insult to injury by not addressing me properly? I thought you were my good girl."
My heart sinks lower, past my belly and straight to my feet. I've disappointed him.
"I am your good girl, Sir, I swear! I was just so worr—"
"There we go again with those excuses," he says as he rises to his feet with an evil glint in his eyes and a stone face. I can tell Sir has had a rough day, and I just gave him every reason to take it out on me.
"Take off your gown."
"Yes, Sir," I slide each delicate strap off my shoulders one by one and let the silky pale pink fabric fall in a puddle around my feet. I step out of the puddle carefully and stand still while Sir's eyes wash over me. I feel my nipples getting erect again and see the warm light bouncing off my gold nipple piercings. He's eyeing my puckered nipples as well but isn't pleased, "You don't deserve to be aroused, Eva".
"You don't deserve to feel anything but my dick deep in your throat."
The anxiety hits me like ton of bricks. I have been practicing deep throating but I am not sure if my dick sucking skills are to Sir's standards just yet. I can't fuck up again.
'Yes, Sir. That's all I deserve".
"Shut up and get on your knees", he growls and I do as I am told. The Persian rug feels softer than the marble floor I was kneeling on earlier, thank god. I'm waiting for him to walk over grip my hair, and shove his long, thick, 9-inch dick between red lips. But he doesn't walk over; he just stands there staring that devilish stare.
"I want you on all fours," he says slowly and deliberately. I do as I'm told.
Sir walks slowly to me, stands in front of me for a moment, and then walks behind me. I can feel the desire building in me as my pussy gets warm and begins to beg for him to enter. I can't control her as she prepares herself for her owner; she's getting hot, wet, and aching with longing. I'm shaking now trying to stop the flow of juices from escaping but my efforts are futile.
I can hear Sir shift behind me as he bends down, I can feel the subtle warmth from his breath on the small of my back. Then I feel his finger graze the dripping wet spot forming between my lips.
I'm terrified.
Before I can process the trouble I'm in, I feel a jolt of pain sting over my right ass cheek. I almost yelp, but I hold it in for fear of my blows to come.
