Home Sweet Home

...The house is a comfortable size, secluded from the beachfront by a long cobbled drive and a large, wooden gate, hiding the world within from that without. A small frontroom leading to a modern kitchen, reading room and lounge. The master bedroom sits above it all, lording the second floor with a balcony open to the sea air. Plain, austere almost. Minimalist furnishings.

Retrofitted a few months ago for my new pet, my new confidante. My toy. Strange, that an online acquaintance can turn into something more, something perverse, in a few short weeks.

There are two prominent fittings - An eyebolt downstairs, roughly in the centre of the house, discreetly installed in a corner, to the floor. The other is the new shower fitting in the en suite - A douche nozzle, with a separate selector for water temperature.

She lives on the chain when at the house, dressed as the house is - Minimalist. The chain is long and light, allowing her to reach most areas easily, even enjoy the outdoors as time permits. It is secured to her ankle by a thin, tight steel band and padlock, allowing her to clean while the Master is away...

Just coffee! (I don't like eggs)

The day dawned clear, a red sunrise over the blue ocean. Stretching languidly, I was wondering where she had gotten to. No doubt taking her time with the morning routine.

Every morning (Best if before I wake) she is expected to shower with a cold rinse, procure a warm cup of coffee and crawl back into the bed from the bottom, taking care not to rustle the silk sheets. They are white, adding a touch of colour to a otherwise dark room. As she moves up to my body, she is expected to wake me by gently kissing my member with her soft, moist lips, teasing it playfully with her tongue until I surface from the depths of a dream, at which point she often pushes herself up against me in bed as we drink our coffee.

...One cannot take vice and seek release every second of every day - This morning ritual leaves me craving her, leaves her on my mind to the exclusion of all but work... And me on her mind, wondering, hoping, to achieve fulfillment in the evening. Daring to dream of me taking my darling and turning her into a sexual object for the night to come...

She anticipates my needs, just as I do hers - As I rise from bed, she is already languidly moving to the bathroom, making sure all is in order for my shower. She knows my body best - She washes it every morning, taking care to remove bodily hair (As I expect her to be shorn, all over, so do I reciprocate) and placing my clothing for the coming day out on the mussed up bed.

As I dress we speak, simple morning smalltalk. Her plans for the day, what she should cook. What time I will be home, will we be going out anywhere over the weekend?

Leaving, I kiss her goodbye. A full kiss, a daring kiss. Something to show both affection and what is to come later.

Cleanliness is godliness! (And other trappings)

Happily, she starts her day. Another cold shower, then dressing. No makeup, natural beauty is enough. She dons a lace pair of boyshorts, cheeky red and snug. Something to work in. A matching sports bra completes the outfit before the chain gets re attached, only to be unlocked by the master in the evening.

Her morning workout is simple, aimed at keeping her toned and fit. Healthy. She stretches and lunges, working up a small sweat as she completes the routine with a grin. Doing well for time, at this rate she will have much of the late afternoon free to follow her own pursuits.

The bed is made with precision, the sheets pulled straight and the duvet folded back, giving the mattress chance to air in the fresh morning air.

The upper part of the house is easy to manage - A simple matter of the bed, and moving the washing downstairs after tidying the bathroom.

Downstairs she has quite a list - Food for the evening must be taken out from the freezer, chicken. Simple yet elegant, if prepared properly. The lounge needs a vacuum, the washing must be done. Master manages most of the larger jobs over the weekends with her help; the garden is his domain. Monthly she will help him wash the windows, and deal with whatever other minor work is needed.

The day passes quickly, the chain slipping across the hardwood floors as she moves from room to room. She spends the afternoon reading and making music before starting with supper. As she hears Master's car she moves quickly to the door, waiting on her knees as a supplicant before the alter, awaiting his presence.

Bedroom dynamics (And other tussles)

He ruffles her hair as he enters, a signal to her of his pleasure, a signal indicating that she may rise. She jumps on his lap on the leather couch, a hint of moisture forming between her legs as a plan of seduction comes to mind. She kisses him, grinding herself against him, glorious in her body. Willing him to respond, to punish her. Punish her with pleasure.

He stands, driving her to the bedroom with swats at her ass, ordering her to lie across the bed, to present herself. He spanks her lightly, rubbing her ass to remove the sting with the warmth of his hand, noting the wetness as he eases her hotpants down, the craving driving him wild. The need for her body. He pushes her down, spreading her legs as she lies face first on the bed, kissing his way up her soft thighs, tasting her flesh as his tongue flicks wetly at her labia, his breath panting out hotly over her sex. Scratching his nails down her back, leaving light red score-marks against her white skin, he rolls her over, demanding both of their pleasure.

Her hands are secured to the railing around the bed with silken ties; she arches out toward him, begging for the release she desires.

He teases her, placing the head of his member against her, lifting her thighs up, her legs around his neck, her body almost all off the bed. Orders her to ask, to ask nicely. To ask for every centimeter, before piling into her, pinning her, driving her into the bed with lust...