Rose had allowed herself to be enslaved by her master because he seemed so kind and caring at the time. He had sworn to temper her spirit in readiness for "the rapture" and committed himself to work her mind and body into a state of molten sexuality. She smiled to herself for a moment as she remembered his sincerity and dare she think it, his strange submissiveness prior to their contract. That feeling aroused her again; she liked the idea of being dominant and yet here she was in common slavery to a man that commanded her like a dog. A good little doggy though, she beamed proudly, remembering her accomplishments.
She didn't even know his real name. He called himself "Mercy" which was short for "Mercury" and she knew that was to do with their contract. He had described himself as a sexual alchemist and that he knew the secret of the Philosophers Stone; he claimed that he could forge her into a state of perpetual rapture. Well, the perpetual rapture part certainly sold her and she was a tough one to impress normally. He admitted harbouring a deep attraction for her having cited her elegance, "moon eyes" and proper deportment. He also spoke about her final liberation, whatever that was; she still really didn't understand, despite all of his instruction to the contrary.
The air of the dungeon was pungent with incense and evoked powerful memories of Rose's deep and often painful submission there. Her mind began to drift into that oh-so familiar state of emptiness and calm whilst her warm naked flesh sat comfortably upon the velvet chair. She had not been restrained which was unheard of and she was hesitant as to what this signified. Mercy stood behind her and coolly stroked her long flame hair with his multi-purpose metal brush, being careful not to disturb her meditation.
His eyes inspected her body, grazing on her soft and fulsome mounds and their hardened peaks. Her skin was clear and peachy and her heavy scent was electrifying. He had named her "Rose" which was in recognition of her Goddess nature, but she was kept ignorant of that lest it diffuse his power before her. He had never known a women to be so delightfully obedient and yet exude such an innocently powerful sexual energy over him. When she had been really well behaved, he permitted her to bring him off but the intensity of his orgasms made it seem impossible to ever consider letting her go. With much concern, he was beginning to question their contract and his code of ethics; he was beginning to have doubts about releasing her.
In all of his years, he had never met an "ideal" life-partner but here she was enslaved to him and more to the point, naked, vulnerable and exceptionally well trained. He allowed himself a half smile at the irony of his situation, where the slave before him would leave upon the moment of her liberation, just like all of the others had. Yet it was his love of her coupled with an underlying desire for service that would melt her base nature into hot sexual energy before tempering and extruding her into a transcendent state. This they had achieved together but now he was reluctant to take her to the precipice of the final transformation. Of all the liberations he had ministered over, he had yet to experience his own and sometimes he doubted himself for it.
He quietly discarded the brush before dipping his hands into the warm oil of the patterned bronze bowl. With considerable misgivings he gently but firmly placed his hands on her shoulders. She muffled a gasp as the electricity of heated anticipation throbbed through her. Very slowly, his hands slid down and around her, raising her breasts with just the slightest brushing of her nipples. His mouth pressed hard upon her succulent right shoulder blade and hungrily he bit into her.
