Despite, or perhaps because of her hurts, Celeste slept a deep revitalising sleep that night. She awoke very early the next morning, to feel Terence lying by her side. She turned to look at him in the faint light of pre-dawn, resting her chin on a hand. How changed he had been the previous day! She shuddered in pleasure, felt her cunt suddenly wet as she quickened with excitement, replaying both her beating and the subsequent buggering in delicious detail.
Her first thought after that was to consider how she must take back control. But ... she wanted him commanding her again too. She wrestled with those two conflicting desires for a while, her natural independence arguing that she must be the dominant, as she had contrived to be for most of their relationship thus far. But body and spirit both dictated that she must experience complete submission to his will again. Dammit, she thought, who have I become? She rolled very carefully onto her aching back, her fertile mind imagining a slave girl's life with this man, while her hand gently toyed in her pubic hair. Finally she drifted back to sleep.
As the sun fell across the window soon after dawn, Terence stirred. He had slept long and deeply, and was feeling much refreshed. He stretched deliciously until a slight twinge reminded him of the wound still healing on his arm, then he took slow deep breaths. What had happened to him yesterday?
He thought back with considerable guilt to the thrashing he had given Celeste, but as he called to mind the rapid build-up of red welts across her white flesh he was immediately aroused. There was something in that image that fascinated him. He also thought back to how her ass had looked when he had spanked her in the past. How the pretty cheeks had gradually reddened under his hand. How she had wriggled. How wet she had become!
And then he replayed her falling to her knees and calling him her Master. He smiled a self-satisfied grin, which then broadened as he visualised his own expression right now. He must be grinning like the cat that got the cream! He would indeed be her Master. That power had been intoxicating, yet ... as he considered the matter, he realised that it carried with it a duty too. If he were to control her utterly then he must equally take all responsibility and care for
how
he used her.
He turned his head to look at the curve of the sleeping girl's neck, shoulder and arm above the white bedcover. Desire stirred. Such a pretty young thing to possess! He was surprised how the thought of utterly possessing her was growing on him. He reached to stroke the nape of her neck, then pulled down the cover slowly, revealing her flank, her whip-marked back, and then her abused ass. Celeste stirred, murmuring something indecipherable, and then stretched. Her eyes flew open and she exclaimed in pain as the stretching of her beaten back sent a hundred sharp reminders of the beating through her. She gingerly rolled onto her stomach, then looked sideways and up at her companion. The expression she caught there fleetingly, before he could adjust it, surprised her considerably. There was a fierce possessiveness in that look. It immediately threw her mentally back into that place she had reached yesterday when her body had told her to declare him her Master. As he changed his look into a warm smile, she returned it with one of her own. "Good morning ... Master?"
