Master of the House

byBelderiever©

Swat! I let the leather tendrils draped over my shoulder fly and connect with her round posterior. This startled my pet and she made a sound that was lost in her throat. Her body eased back down and she had to content herself with just the end of my member. This position restricted her motion, leaving her tongue to do all the work as she caressed me from inside her hot mouth. I throbbed from her suckling, growing ever bolder with each caresses.

Her spell soon wore off, yet I did not pull away, but only returned my attention to the red strips across her rear. I flung the flog sharply across her shoulders. Her body immediately tensed, and her fingers gripped the edge of the table. I struck her again, and again, and again until a smooth rhythm emerged. The strokes where moderate in force, but I did not veer on bit from that delicate area between the shoulder blades. Her reactions quickly grew more severe as her fingernails dug into the hard wooden underside of the table, yet she maintained her silent composure.

I spread out my love for her. Striking her sensual lower back, sides, and posterior. Oh how those curves made a man drunk. The small of her back was so delicious to my anger I relished it for last. SWAT! Bright red lines quickly covered the canvas of my pet with each stroke of my "brush". Each one elicited a small whimper against my flesh. My manhood was bulging from the excitement against my skin, trying to break free of the confines of my own flesh. So engorged had I become that her lips could no longer contain me. Yet still, she kissed me and licked me softly despite the pain.

With her back red and welted, I was running out of bare canvas to paint with. I rested the leathers over my shoulder and gave her a moment's respite. She released her grip on me and panted heavily in the hot air. It was our own heat that made us sweat and pant as the hearth had died down long ago. My blood was racing through my veins with the thrill of the moment, the beast would not soon longer be held. Yet I had one last treat for my love. A sliding wood bar under the table unsecured the back portion of the table. Her legs dropped to the ground as the panel folded in. I approached her from behind, my bludgeon coming to rest in the nook of her cheeks. She loved me there apparently, as her hips pushed back against me. I looked down my sides to her shapely thighs and the legs that followed them as we stood astride of each other. Here was more canvas for me to paint with. I pushed forward and angled backwards, my manhood sliding up that crevice of her posterior. With one fluid motion I raised my flog and brought the leathers down sharply against that luscious leg as I slid back down that crevice. Bright marks and a sharp jerk heralded my blow. I rocked on my feet, alternating to the next leg as I slid between her cheeks with my manhood. Again, and again I struck and rocked back on my feet and forward. The pleasure of that perfectly shaped nook added to my euphoria and brought me close to the edge of it. Strike after strike left fresh marks on her skin. My tempo matched that growing inside me. I stopped suddenly to regain my composure. Her legs pushed her hips back against me wanting more – my pet was hungry.

I looked at her then, my beautiful muse. My hands touched her thighs and gently glided over that red, sweaty, smooth skin. They roamed over her curvy hips, posterior and sides, I felt ever contour of her backside to her shoulders. Her breathing eased down from the calming sensual touch. I grabbed a handful of that luxurious mane of hers and breathed in her scent one last time. Too often other men never take the time to fully appreciate all that they have. They use it for their own ends and no more. It was in this moment of caresses and passion as I looked at her, that I realized the startling truth of the direness of our nation's troubles. Hungry are the urchins and peasants of the streets. And starving animals, when desperate enough, will attack anything for food. Flog a pet too much, and it cries out. Keep it waiting too long, and the flower dries and the passion wilts.

I shook such thoughts from my head and placed my lips on the back of her neck. She leaned into me, as I went into her. A soft gasp from her lips welcomed me inside. Our bodies undulated in response to the others motion that drove us both mad with lusts and passion. Each movement illicit such emotion I could barely maintain my stature – this was the pinnacle of all we had worked ourselves up to. And it was so, so sweeter by it. I grabbed her wrists for support as I leaned over her. Her fingers reached back to hold my hands. Sweat dripped off my chest and face from the exertion of such long, fluid strokes. With the crest of each wave my pet let go a short gasp of breath, followed by a deep humming I could feel down her body. She too, dripped of our passion as the heat in the room was no long from the fire, but our bodies locked in a maddening dance of lust.

I felt the reactions start in her hands as her nails dug into my palms. Her head reared back tossing her hair backwards; I latched onto the side of her neck with my lips as she came to me. It started as a ripple, a shudder down her back, her skin goose pimpled along the way, and it ended in spasms around me. This caused the finale of my exertions as they came on the backstroke and my seed landed on those supple round cheeks. I froze and left the tremors run their course lest my legs buckle. Her warm cheek nuzzled against mine and under my chin. I panted against her, regaining my bearings on the moment from that quick glimpse at heaven.

For long beautiful moments we laid there together caressing one another with our bodies. There is no wine as intoxicating, no cheese as filling, and no confection as sweet as these moments we shared. My lips found her shoulders, and I started to kiss the sweat from her skin. But like all good dreams, they are shattered as the light of morning. The door burst open and the light from the hallway startled us. I looked at it bewildered and caught off guard as men rushed in and seized me. I barely had a moment to grasp the situation as I was hauled out into the light of the anteroom. Their angry faces yelled obscenities; I could not sort one from another as I was dragged down the hall. My wits returned and I struggled. I pushed and pulled, and yelled my protests. But my captors heard none of it. Indecently, I was carried downstairs to the foyer. There were torches and farming tools held as weapons. And the bloody thirsty visages of a mob.

This was it. This was the day I had warned against for months. My mind elated at the vindication that all those arguments I lost in parliament were finalized proven true. I think my captors mistook my levity for madness as I laughed. They suddenly gave me birth and distance. One pulled my hands behind me and bound them. My legs started to shiver in the cold air as my bare skin went unprotected. So many voices yelled out as they discussed my fate. Suddenly I felt like a hog at market going for the highest price. Will it be the pasture to fatten some more, or to the butchers for a quick cutting. A voice from the balcony above cut all voices off. It came from the anteroom to my study and it awoke the blood thirst in my captors. My entreat with my pet was brought to light. Before I could defend my actions a piercing pain dropped me to me knees, but I did not reach the ground. I was held up by the pitchfork that had impaled me. The man's bedraggled face regarded me with utter hatred. I felt his wet spit land on my face. With no care, he yanked it out and I crumpled. The shock from the blow set in and my senses went numb.

I heard one last shriek of anger from far above, followed by a clamor of bodies as people rushed down the stairs. My eyes tried to focus and I saw the gaze of my pet once more. Her hands touched me all over, probing for the wound. Her eyes stared at nothing, as it was her hands she saw with. They tried to hold in the blood but there were too many holes for her hands. A hushed silence filled the room, or my hearing was the first to go.

I remembered when I opened the door to my father's shed and found her there. We were both much younger then. He had whipped her hard and tore flesh from bone. Locked in that shed to sweat until she learned her place. I could do nothing but free this poor girl that was treated so cruelly. The moment I broke the shackles with the hammer, her hands reached out for me. I was alarmed and confused as she groped about in broad daylight. Then I saw her eyes for the first time. That blank stare that took all in but recognized none. I asked her what her name was, but she did not answer. Years later physicians would tell me her lack of speech was from heat sickness the shed caused. That day I cursed my father in his grave for his cruelty. This poor girl had lost two of her faculties by him.

A cry of alarm yanked my mind back to the living as I came out of unconsciousness. I heard a struggle, and felt warm blood splatter on me. I could only see people fleeing my house and the bright glint of metal chasing them. I heard screams and men dying. Their voices were gurgling from the surge of fluids in their throat. My eyes stared at my family's crest. And I saw one of the rapiers missing from the criss-crossed formation of my father's swords. It was the last thing I saw before I finally succumbed to my wounds...

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