A Pure Heart

Aahhh! As she pushed up, he withdrew!

"You have to learn patience, ma soumise. And learn that although I am pleasing you, it is also to please myself."

"Yes Mon Maitre..."

"...a lesson to be learnt, is it not?" His finger entered her again, easily.

"Yesss... oh yesss.... please..."

A second finger joined the first, opening her out more and making the pain madder, mingling with the pleasure of feeling something inside her pussy again.

"Oh my god.... Maitre... you're going to make me cum!"

The fingers withdrew. She felt the sudden emptyness.

"Will you cum, for me?"

"Yesss!"

"I want you to dedicate your first cum to me. To be beautiful as you cum. Will you do this?"

"Oh yes, Maitre... this and every single other one in my life! Pleeeeaseeee..."

"So." The fingers thrust back in, hard, twisting inside her. She gasped in shock and felt the wave rising all over her hips, her tummy.... her breasts... she was breathing hard and her body felt as if she was submerging into the rushing torrent.

The wave broke. She spasmed and twisted on the bed, her nipples and pussy sharp as knives in the rush of her orgasm. His fingers continued to press and twist inside her although she squirmed her thighs together. She felt his hard breathing and realised that they had after all shared.

Did hours pass? She was aware only of his comforting presence at the side of the bed, his occasional soft kiss over her mouth. Slowly, they fell into what she realised was a leavetaking ritual. At first, talking, to bring them to the world of the city dweller and the factual.

"Yes, you have inherited the trait from your father after all... the receptive part. You hate the pain, don't you, my soumise?"

"Yes, Mon Maitre. I hate it... and yet..."

"You are drawn to it."

"The before and the after... not the during."

"Surement. But without the during, the before and after have no meaning, eh?"

"So few understand..."

His warm hand on her shoulder, reasuring. "I understand. Let me wash your injuries."

Of course, it stung, and she was glad she was still chained up although he was careful. A while later, he undid her cuffs, but she still lay with her arms up, as if the cuffs were still there. He had to help her to sit up, and gently help to ease her back into her clothes. Ouch! Her breasts hurt! And so did her pussy! The raw edge had gone away, dulled by the passing of time and whatever medicine he had put on her. Her necklace. He fastened her shoes on, lovingly. She realised just as he had undressed her, he had put her back together, like a doll.

"I will call you a taxi. Do you want to drink?"

She nodded. "Yes please, Maitre... would a cup of tea be..."

"Ah! Tea! I shall make you an infusion, ma soumise. No, kindly do not remove your blindfold. Your senses are keener when you do not see."

It was only at the last minute, when he was about to open the door, that he released her blindfold. She blinked, and saw him standing in front of her in a bathrobe (yes, his stubble had grown!) He leaned forward and wiped her eyes.

"They are not red because you do not rub them under the blindfold" he whispered.

"Which one of us thanks the other?" she asked, quickly.

He smiled and kissed her cheek. She kissed him back. That lovely French gesture. She turned her head and they kissed on the other cheek.

"It is mutual. You will return to me, soon, oui?"

"Of course... when..."

"Whenever. It is your privilege. You and I have access to each other."

"Oui, Mon Maitre, always."

He gave her bottom a small slap she she walked away. Ah yes, that other French gesture!

Back in her apartment, in her bedroom, she took off and put away her clothes, her necklace, and cleaned away her makeup. Moving slowly and softly, she put on her cotton nightgown with the golden sun embroidered on the front of it which she had laid out on her coverlet. She sat kneeling on the bed. There was an absolute silence around her. She rasped a match and lit the incense burner beside her bed.

The smell of evening primrose oil pervaded Cynthia's room. She flared her nostrils, inhaling the scent with a mystical sensuality; then lay flat into the bed and closed her eyes. Her lips smiled. The movement of her heart slowed down, beat by beat, each time more indistinct, gentler, like a fountain running low, like an echo fading away; and when she at last slept, she dreamt she knelt below her Master as he opened his bathrobe and pulled out his gigantic cock for her above her face.