It was one of those beautiful days where I'd decided to walk home from work instead of accepting Sir's offer to wait another thirty minutes and pick me up on his way home. I'd shot him a quick text and headed toward the residential side of town. I didn't mind walking, usually, but this afternoon was more humid than I'd thought. I felt the sweat gathering between my shoulder blades only two blocks into the trek. Another block later, and I could see a wet spot forming around the two buttons of my shirt where the material pressed against my cleavage. Dampness circled the base of my neck not long after, and I knew without reaching up that my hair was starting to curl there.
By the time I saw our driveway, sweat was trickling down my forehead into my eyes and coating my back as though I'd been having a full cardio workout, not casually crossing ten blocks. I was the first one home and immediately shucked my uniform as soon as the front door closed. The brisk air from the AC was a stark contrast to the heat outside. It puckered my nipples beneath the cups of my bra, and I shivered from goosebumps that prickled my bare arms and legs like tiny firecrackers being set off.
I had enough sense to scoop up my top and pants from the front room's floor then made my way through the duskiness of the hallways to my room at the back of the house where I deposited them haphazardly on a chair once I closed my door. The overhead light turned on low but the fan on high, I plopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, one arm flung partly over my eyes.
Several minutes later, I was cooler. Breathing normal again. My eyes drifted shut for only a moment.
When I opened them, Sir was standing over me, his large hands clasped in front of his still-buttoned suit coat. His eyes were narrowed, his lips pressed thinly together.
I awoke fully with a start but couldn't jump up as I'd crossed my legs while dozing, creating a bit of a vise that seemed to keep me anchored to the bed.
"What have I told you about wearing your glasses while sleeping?" Sir reached down and carefully removed them, setting them on the nightstand. He didn't hide it when he slowly dragged his gaze down my body and back up again, sending shivers racing across my skin.
By the time he'd returned to my eyes, I was back to panting heavily and feeling flushed all over. As though I'd just returned home from work and stripped.
At the slow lick of his lips, my nipples puckered once more. I gulped, licking my own lips. My choice of underwear this morning had been a decision of what was left clean: a pair of black, satin panties and a black, satin bra. My undergarments didn't always go together. The brief thought I'd heard that wearing a matching set meant you wanted to be fucked crossed my mind. It had not been intentional, but Sir wouldn't know that. And the growing bulge in his pants at my eye level indicated he wouldn't have cared for my explanation anyway.
There was a flash in his eyes, another lick of his lips.
When he reached his left hand toward me, I sucked in my breath. Then I sighed softly at the gentle swipes of his fingers brushing strands of my still-damp hair away from my face. My eyelids started to drift again, but I managed to keep them at half-mast.
He continued to play with my hair, his fingertips sometimes grazing my cheek or forehead. Making my sighs turn to soft moans. My breaths more ragged.
"You have chores to do tonight. I can tell you've had a long day. And that walk home obviously wore you out. The sooner you get done, the sooner you can relax. Hmm?"
I nodded, keeping his eye contact. His dark green gaze was always so powerful. Tonight, it was so hard, I felt my pussy dampen.
If he'd stepped away at that point, I think the night would have gone just as he'd planned. I would do my chores, he'd make dinner, and we'd relax in front of the TV, like usual when we'd had a long day. But I took a deep breath and his gaze shifted downward.
I knew by the way he licked his lips again—slowly with a press of his lips together again—that he was staring at my cleavage. My own lip rolled inward, my upper teeth catching it.
At his low growl, I whimpered softly, my eyes closing all the way. But they flew back open at the feeling of his fingertip tracing the top hem of my bra, gently pushing at the swell of flesh there. He dragged across the top of my right breast, down into the valley, and then up and across my left. Then he reversed the motion.
The tightness of my nipples was so painful now, but I didn't let on except to bite my lip harder. On his next pass from right to left, his fingertip pushed under the fabric. Another slow sweep backwards before he continued the back-and-forth path, slipping further and further under the cups of my bra until his finger grazed my nipple, making me gasp and arch.
"Mmm. There she is. My Little One."
I held my breath, waiting for him to stroke my nipples and ease the tension there...pinch or twist them maybe. Caress my breasts. Remove my bra at least. But he continued to stare at my heaving chest for another minute before his gaze traveled further down.
Somehow, my legs were still crossed. But they relaxed when he skated his fingertips down my right thigh. Parted slightly when he continued his feather-light touch. And then fell open the further inward he stroked.
"That's a good girl."
As though they had a mind of their own, my knees slid up and apart until they rested like the wings of a butterfly. They even bounced a little in anticipation of taking flight. Because I knew that whatever Sir chose to do, I would be flying. The question was, for how long?
A soft growl escaped my lips when his fingertips continued to stroke the insides of my right then my left thighs. They slid downward but never touched my panties or my pussy. Over and over again, he tortured me in this way. My own hands fisted in the sheets beneath me.
