He sat awhile on the stone bench, under the willow tree, by the fountain, raising his head to the evening sky. He muttered to himself as if talking to the fountain. It did not listen, but continued to giggle shyly, like the most teasingly delightful submissive, in its own silvery tongue. A gentle master, he listened intently to it for a little while. Seeking to drown out the ceaseless chattering, he looked up pensively, watching the clouds chasing one another across the evening sky.
Then he stood again to pace backwards and forwards over the paved stones and among the bedded geranium that decorated the courtyard. It was enclosed on three sides by the white washed walls of the chateau and he, likewise, seemed to feel enclosed, like a trapped animal unable to escape from the demands of life. He returned to the bench and with a sigh, looked around and sat down again.
"If only he would smile for me," she murmured quietly, not wishing to disturb his train of thought. "If only he would take those hands of his and cup my face so lovingly as he did when rousing me from my bed to lead me out here in the early morn. Yet he has not looked once at me, just gazed out there all the day long, as if he is waiting for a messenger who never arrives. Oh my Master, let me be your messenger, let me be your message. If only he would smile for me."
He seemed not to hear her pleading murmurings, being apparently so engrossed in his musings. So, risking his wrath, she moved from her kneeling pose by the fountain and came unbidden to sit between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He opened his mouth to chide her for disturbing his meditations, but the breeze, blowing her hair up in a wavelike crest, created a fascinating screen to the harbour and sea below. He gazed down lovingly at her and reached out to stroke the silken wave, leaning down to kiss both her neck and ear.
She half-turned, meeting that kiss with a keen passion, her tongue dueling with his. They relaxed into this embrace, he leaning forward on the stone bench by the fountain, she kneeling at his feet, crouching on the soft cushions that were scattered round on the paved floor. Both of them paused to listen to the movement of the trickling fountain as together, master and servant, owner and owned, they gazed at the foam splashing on the harbour walls, watching the fishermen's boats on the sea, roll gently on the tide.
He reached down to her and began to explore her body. She was just wearing a thin white bodice, a short skirt and sun bleached underwear. He touched her shoulders first with fingers, then leant forward to brush her with his lips. Finally his tongue grazed the nape of her neck. He gazed down beneath the fine silk robe to view the gentle swell of her breasts. Though not large, these were beautiful, milky white with delicate little teats. His hand moved first to the left until it stood like a guardian to her more secret havens further south. Then he moved to the right for the same treatment.
He rose again looking into the distance and beckoned her to follow him. She sought to re-arrange the disarray of her garb. He glanced at her, irritated, impatient as ever and she let her hands fall to her sides, no longer fiddling with the gown. His hand drifted southward, to take her devoted hand in his and hold it there momentarily, warming it and reflecting the warmth of her radiance into his own chilled body, as the cool of the evening descended, leaving them both bathed in an orange light.
His hands rose again up her arm to touch her neck and trace the leather collar and the leash that trailed from her neck. He touched the material and, as trained, she crouched and waited for him to lead her across the courtyard, crawling, her bottom raised and thighs parted as was her wont and his desire. Perhaps, en route, he would pause to stroke her inner thigh, and, as her legs opened to give easier access, he might pass over then, to rub his fingers into her warm wetness, letting her moisture be absorbed by the cotton panties.
She would moan - no - more of a gentle sigh or hum, her fingernails tracing the pattern on the paving stones to distract herself from his incessant touchings and probings. Then, a gentle pressure downward would let her know with with no uncertainty what he had in mind next. She crouched, bewitched by his ever playing fingers and the liquid laughter. Her head and shoulders pressed to the ground, her bottom raised, swaying gently, languidly to his silent satisfaction.
He knelt behind her and pulled her skirt up to observe the intriguing rotation. He applied his lips to the pantied crest of her buttocks and then gradually kissed his way lower and lower, watching her moisten beneath the thin cotton fabric of her underwear. He pulled the gusset of her panties aside to find a neatly trimmed slit that he could hardly wait to to taste and touch. His tongue separated her outer lips and found the coral pearl to lick and tease her lightly.
Alternating between gentle nibbles and, for both master and slave, deep gratifying sucks, he pulled her treasures between his lips, tugging assiduously. Her thighs spread as she sighed, murmuring and delighting in her master's attentions. The slave began to tremble and could hardly resist a wanton desire to thrust upwards and backwards into her master's entranced visage. She wanted him now. She desired him. Let him touch and fondle her from her chest to hips. Let him stroke her everywhere as he held her secure.
He leant forward again to kiss her. The sensation was like a moist feather as his tongue slipped into her again, meeting her flesh with long slow strokes. Each time he almost pulled out and then slid in and in again for what seemed an eternity until his facial features ground against her thighs, unable to get closer. She burbled like a second fountain in the courtyard, biting into her arm to contain the squeals of passion that would otherwise bring other slaves to her master's side.
She dug her nails into her arms clawing at them as she writhed in an erotic reverie. The shivering, fretting, eyes closed shaking was unprecedented. She seemed unable, unwilling, to breathe. She trembled, seemingly afraid to lose a precious second of the moment of this captivation of her Master's lust. There she quivered, stretched before him and with taut muscles seemed to explode within herself in a starry haze of wet ecstacy. Finally, ever so slowly, the pounding in her ears began to subside. She could once again hear the murmur of the fountain, sensing the moment for quiet, peace and relaxation, now that the spasms that had wracked her body had dissipated.
She turned her head coquetishly, like an enchanted filly, and gazed back at her master wide eyed. He looked over his property, so beautiful in the evening twilight. Behind him, over the harbour below and the hills, dark shadows in the distance, the stars had begun to rise lighting up the evening sky. As they twinkled, she gazed into the starlight of his eyes and thought that at last she saw her Master smile.
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