It's early, almost too early to be attended to. The servants are still asleep. The fires in the kitchens have died down long ago, leaving a few embers for the kitchen boys to turn to blazing infernos through the day. The sun has yet to peer over the eastern horizon. The cockerel is still dozing among his brooding hens, head under a wing. The pale ghost of a waning moon stares down on this somnolent scene, eventually turning its mysterious attentions to the glazed window of your chambers. The gentle beam of its light plays over your face. Your head is turned to one side on the pillow. You are far away, dreaming that you are nestled foetally in the recovery position, recovering from his indelicate attentions. As ever you can sense him behind you. His flaccid cock is pressed in the cleft of your buttocks. You sigh as you sleep, imagine his arm encircling you protectively. Possessively. You can relax. You know you belong. You know you are owned and taken.
You are his. And your Master? Well, what of him? He is naked, behind you, as you would have expected. His resplendent masculinity towers above your supine form. His cock, with a little attention will be hard and erect, ready to press against your welted backside: against the welts that he, so attentively, inscribed there the previous night as you sucked on his member. He can remember the way your mouth constricted each time the cane landed on your bared flanks. He can close his eyes and rehearse with precise exactitude the degree of control you showed as you pleasured him so diligently. You were assiduous in ensuring that each nibble of his sensitive flesh did not become a more traumatising bite.
You are also naked except for the white leather collar that serves as a reminder of who you belong to. The moonlight draws out the contrast between collar and submissive flesh as it brushes over you, lying face down on the bed, denuded of your bed linen. He has stripped away the coverlets, leaving you exposed to the elements. Your legs are parted and your breasts are pressed into the silken sheets. They rest there, concealed from him, your secrets.....for the present. The delicacy of this detail is insignificant compared to your welted back and buttock flesh, so willfully exposed to his imminent depredations.
You exhale slowly and surely, as surely as the hand that slides imperceptibly under your recumbent form to caress the swell of your bosom. He stays quite still having wrapped the mound of flesh in the palm of his hands and listen to the steady palpitations of your heartbeat. He listens to the beat and to the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall. Its face stares out woodenly at the pair of you. The clock strikes the hours and he lets out a harsh breath of air, cooling your back and making you shiver slightly. You brush your hand against the air. It is almost as if you are trying to pull an invisible cover over your form. You sigh contentedly when your hand comes into contact with his warm thigh. He does not react. He remains still, watching and waiting, straddling your backside, waiting for the chiming clock to quieten.
Finally the clock is still and, when silence is restored, he leans against you slowly. The thick head of his erection presses against the less accessible dryer bud of your nether regions. It opens reluctantly to afford him access. You groan at this painfully rude awakening. He looks down to see the head of his cock disappearing into your tract. Then he lets his vision roam all along the length of your pale body. He permits his eyes to run along the perfect contours, up your spinal column right up to the thick mane of hair that partially hides your face from him. He reaches forward to gently brush a loose strand of hair off your face. His pelvis jerks and he presses the length of his hardness deep into you. You awaken with a sudden jolt at this obscene entry into your hindquarters. Your eyelids spring open. You would cry out but for the fact that his hand covers your mouth.
"You are so beautiful in the morning, pet," he whisper softly in your ear. "So ready to please me. And you do please me."
Bemused, still drugged with sleep, you try to turn your head. Then you feel him burn his way further into your receptive backside. He loves to shock you by sudden assaults. The thoughts and remembrance of these make you shiver. You are precisely sure when to anticipate his demands for access to your body, but you know that any crudeness in his enforcement will be accompanied by a subtle gentleness that will always leave you purring for more. His finger slides into your mouth and you suck on the intruding digit eagerly, letting your tongue wind around it, just as it wound round him on the previous night. You let your own hand slide down under your breasts, over your belly and finally between your legs. You raise yourself to allow access to your moistness.
Your gesture brings the last inch of his cock into the tightness of your behind. He flops against the narrow strip of flesh that separates your fingers and his penetration. Fully ensconced within you, he sighs, satisfied at your acceptance of his commanding presence. He wriggles as he slides against you, regaling in the additional, tickling pleasure of your fingers brushing his balls. Assured of his possession, he pushes you onto your front. It is only then that assisted by the sheer force of gravity his powerful yet rhythmic assault on your hindquarters really begins. He relaxes and pulls away from your gripping bottom but is back for a further helping of that insidiously delicious tightness. Letting his thighs press against your curvaceous buttocks he fucks in and out of your receptive bottom hole. His cock fills you. The thick cartilage skewers in and out of your posterior, making you want to scream out your delight. You grip the pillow and let its soft comfort drown out the moans rising in your throat.
Yet there are other focuses to your pleasure: the opportune manner in which your fingers rub the lips of your sex insistently. Your index finger acts as an advance party to conjure the liquid flows from the trembling centre of your being. Fully conscious of the naughtiness of your situation, you will most certainly ensure that this lonely scout will be joined by other digits. Accordingly, there is only a brief pause before you part the tightly folded pink whorls of flesh to allow them to slip in, one after the other. You spread your wet cunt wide so that anyone watching you from behind would see your sex like a reversed rosebud. The paler external petals yield to the pressure of your fingers to give way to the darkened blush of your damp excited interior. Your previously muddled thoughts begin to achieve a certain coherence. You cast off your dreams and relax into the reality of this scenario. You delight in this conjoined submission. Simultaneously, you obey your Master's demands and your own imperatives.
Your Master feels the delicious tightness embellished by your belated efforts. He looks down and see the little stretch marks pulled in by the combination of his embedded status and your pulling of your skin forwards underneath. He reaches down with his free hand and gently pats you in approbation. You wiggle happily, knowing that you have managed to please him and endear yourself to him by being ready and willing in his service. Contrary as ever, he pulls back from you, before that much sought after climactic surge in your loins. Far, far too soon. You let your fingers slide from your pussy, wanting perversely to magnify the feeling of loss and abandonment. His finger slips from your mouth as he pops from you. You feel deprived, taken from one fulfilling extreme to a total void.
A tear forms in the corner of your eye at this precipitate withdrawal and you move to fill yourself again with your own wriggling digits. A hand wraps itself around your wrist precluding any such action. The tear trickles down your cheek and you look over your shoulder, pleading silently with him. Contact is only restored when his finger traces one of the welts from last night's well deserved whipping. It still feels slightly sore and you flinch. He rewards your unbidden action with a noisily effective slap that reverberates around your chambers. You bow your head in mute apology and shiver as you feel him casting his gaze around the room and lighting on your dressing table.
"Go fetch, pet," he instructs. It is only at that juncture that you recollect his words of the previous night. After he had laid down that beastly cane and withdrawn from your well filled mouth, your lips were spread in a smile, as a trickle of semen spilled down your chin.
"Almost first thing tomorrow morning," he had said quietly, "before breakfast, before your shower, before practically anything you are going to fetch me your hairbrush."
Your smile had vanished suddenly. You swallowed his ejaculation with a rapid gulp of anticipation and frowned.
"And then I am going to spank each of your well whipped cheeks until they are pristine pink and tender."
A look of dismay appeared on your face and you had sworn soto voce. "Oh buggery..."
He stopped you with a finger across your lips.
"No," he say shaking his head. "Don't say anything more. A spanking always makes you more obedient, which is the way you like to be."
"You will be pleased to receive it tomorrow morning. Hard. Hard enough that you'll be feeling it all day," he added, taking his fingers from your lips and you looked down.
"Yes, MiLord," you said, accepting his decision quietly.
"And since you have so wisely chosen - such a spanking will be preceded by a little rise and shine, rectal activity."
"Yes, Milord," you smiled and were rewarded by a gentle kiss on the forehead and a possessive slap on your wriggling bum.
"Good girl. Now go to sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."
You slipped down under the coverlets and drifted off feeling safe, cared for and comforted. The dreams that invaded your sleep might dispel your short term recollection, yet you anticipated your obedience at that point, as surely as you knew that night follows day. The following morning you would reach over and hand him the brush. You would bend over his lap, contrite, awaiting his pleasure. From the heat of passion to the coolness of his methodical control, he will always tantalise every one your senses. From restful sleep to his rough handling of your delighted body. He knew precisely how to press all your buttons no matter how early he attended to them.
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