Jeremy knew something wasn't right. Mistress had been acting strange lately. Her normal "bite-his-head-off" attitude was replaced with smiles and gentle caresses on his body. Why, just last night, She had tilted his chin up so he could look Her full in the face and actually kissed his lips. Oh how wonderfully soft they were! Full, ripe, a hint of a smile on them. She had tousled his long hair and left the room right after, humming to Herself. He had stayed very still as his eyes followed Her feet out the door. He was wondering if it were a trick. He sighed deeply now and continued to polish the black leather boots before him.
His hands worked the stiff brush back and forth over the tops. How they must glisten or woe is he. He could hear Her coming now and he picked up the pace, swirling the polish briskly. She entered the room and paid him no attention. He sat naked, cross-legged on the floor. He could sense that she was watching and he kept his eyes focused on the task at hand. Indeed, she was watching him. Her hazel eyes were boring a hole through his lean, tanned body. She watched the muscles in his back as he worked diligently.
His chest was lightly furred, just the way she liked it. His leg muscles were powerful and arms strong enough to lift her and carry her great distances before tiring. She smiled to herself and sat down at her desk.
"Jeremy."
The one word sent a shiver down his spine.
"You called, my Mistress?"
Come here and sit before Me."
He laid the boot and polishing cloth on the floor beside him and crept on all fours to his waiting Mistress. Once there, he rose up on his knees and placed his hands at the small of his back. Keeping his head down, he waited. He felt her hands run through his hair and pull out a tangle. The same hand caressed the broad shoulder and squeezed his bicep hard. She made a soft noise of pleasure. He kept his gaze on the floor in front of him.
"Turn around and sit between my legs," she told him.
He did as she bade him and could feel his hands beginning to sweat. Her nails were long and sharp yet she stroked his back now with an almost loving caress. She unsnarled the tangles in his hair one at a time and kept touching his arms, shoulders and back. He was almost dizzy from her touch. This was so unlike her. He pushed the thought out of his mind and sighed gently, enjoying her touching him. She stroked his hair once more before pushing him to one side and leaving the room. He sat there in silence for a moment and then went back to polishing her boots.
He did not see her for the rest of the day. When nightfall came, he set about lighting the candles about the house as she liked. He found himself back in the study. As he set about fluffing a pillow here and there and lighting the tapers, he heard her come in. He did not turn around, but noticed the musky scent of her as she flitted about the room. He heard her open the sliding door to the patio and the click of her lighter.
Mistress liked to sit on the deck at night and smoke her cigarettes before bed. She had said once to someone that it cleared her head. He couldn't remember who it was, but it did not matter, was of no concern to him. He sat by the patio door on the cushion she had bought him when he first arrived. His body was tired but his mind was abuzz. He thought of her soft hands caressing his body that afternoon and he could feel himself stirring. It had been more than one week since she had allowed him to touch her sexually. He was craving her. He felt himself growing harder at this thought, and he smiled to himself. She had finished her smoke and was now sipping from the wineglass he had left on the table.
"Jeremy," she called out softly. "Come here."
He slid the screen door open and made his way to her feet. Kneeling before his Goddess, he waited.
"Go and turn down my covers. Light the candles I have placed on the tables and wait for me."
"Yes, Mistress."
He paused for a moment to see if she would add anything to the tasks. When she said nothing further, he padded back through the study and headed down the hall. Fresh pink flowers, her favorite, were on the tables as were several small white candles. He found the matches she had left and lit the candles one by one. He pulled down the comforter and the sheet and knelt by the foot of her bed. His heart was pounding in his chest. His cock had swelled and was throbbing between his legs with the aching need of having been denied for a week.
He stayed put and waited. It was the waiting he loved the most. He could never anticipate her. Sometimes she would come at him with a barrage of instructions; other times she would do nothing more but sit in the black leather chair and watch him. It was those nights there were no need for any words. He would bring in food and wine and could sit beside her on the floor. Now and then she would give him tidbits of food, a sip or two of potent red wine. He would brush her hair for a while and if she felt like it, she would take the paddle brush to his ass.
He loved the caressing times the most. She was not without feelings, this woman, just always in control of herself when he was with her. He admired her, respected her and loved her.
He could hear her closing the patio door and the sound of her feet on the cool tiled floor. Then he heard the door of the bedroom being shut. His heart was racing now as he wondered what lay ahead of him. She was close to him now. Her perfume was clinging to his nostrils, making him dizzy. He had unconsciously clasped his hands behind his back and he could feel his palms wetting. God, what she could do to him without even a touch! She was behind him now.
"Close your eyes."
He did so and felt the comfort of the blindfold surround him. She secured it well and checked to make sure he could not see. When she was satisfied that he could not, she touched his cheek.
"So beautiful," he heard her murmur aloud. She reached around to unclasp his hands and he felt himself being pulled forward. She was urging him to rise. He did so, his cock surging forth in front of him with need. She chuckled and slapped at it playfully.
"There will be time enough for that later, my pet." He felt the blush rise in his cheeks.
"Yes, Mistress."
She bade him to lean forward and hold himself up using his arms at the foot of the bed. He did so easily, his body built for endurance and strength. She admired the body before her. Tanned. Naked. Strong. A perfectly smooth ass. Her face broke into a smile.
He stayed still, the blindfold keeping him in darkness. He could smell the vanilla of the candles. He could feel her presence behind him. His body was yearning for a kiss, a touch, anything to ease this pain in his loins. He made sure to keep his cock from touching the coverlet. He must not rub against the satiny temptation before him. Her hands were now on his ass, kneading the buttocks firmly.
He felt himself jerk as she swatted him with her bare hand. The movement caught him off guard. He locked his knees and his arms straight for the next blow. And so it began.
She had now moved off to the side of him, spanking his naked ass. The cheeks were surely becoming red as she hit him. He stood there in perfect silence and let her unleash the punishing blows. The hand was soon replaced with the leather slapper and when the first strike came, he moaned involuntarily aloud. She thrashed his buttocks, back and calves until they were stinging from the pain. His breath was coming in quick gasps. His body was enflamed and his cock was showing signs of pre-cum on the purple tip. She allowed him a moment of rest.
Letting the slapper fall to the floor, she now caressed his back and ass. She ran a hand around the front of him and squeezed his fat cock. He cried out in surprise and pain.
