A Sort Of Fairytale Ch. 01

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I turned away quickly, making a pretense of having to take great care in folding the shirt. That bought me only a few extra seconds. Then I unbuckled the belt and carefully removed it from the loops in his trousers. This too, I set aside. I reached for the fastening of his pants and stopped. I may have been an innocent but I knew what was under there. One did not live in a farming village without seeing and hearing things. He smiled at my obvious discomfiture, taking my hands and guiding them to the top button. I unfastened it as quickly as I could and moved down to the next, my fingers brushing over a hard bulge under the material.

I jerked away as if burned. He must have anticipated my reaction, for his hand shot out to grab my wrist and he smoothly pulled my resisting hand towards himself to press it over the frightening swelling there. I wailed and continued to try and pull away, a useless effort that accomplished nothing. He shoved my palm against the throbbing hardness, making me to feel its entire length through the material before he released me so suddenly that I stumbled backwards.

"Do not dawdle, little one. Finish your task," he said.

I knew better than to protest or refuse. Resolutely, I tried to ignore what was there and forced my shaking hands to finish unfastening his trousers. Trying to stand as far from him as I could, I tugged nervously at the waistband. As they slipped down over his hips, I could ignore it no longer. His manhood sprang free of the material and it was all I could do not to fling myself away from him. Somehow, I managed to help his trousers off so that I could turn away and busy myself with their folding. My heart thudded in my chest and again, the tears threatened to pour from my eyes. It was a wonder I had not yet run out from crying so much.

I knew I was taking too long, deliberately fumbling as I added it to the neat pile. I half expected him to scold me for being so slow but he did not. Instead, he patiently waited until I ran out of delaying tactics and had to turn back to face him. He placed a hand on my shoulder, lightly pushing down, and I understood that I was to kneel. With a growing sense of dread, I sank obediently to my knees, eyes closing to avoid seeing the instrument that sprang out from a patch of hair between his legs. The burning of my sore bottom renewed itself as I reluctantly rested it on my heels.

I felt his hand cup the back of my head, pulling me closer until something warm bumped into my lips. Terrified, I clamped them shut. It rubbed across my mouth, leaving behind a trail of sticky wetness that almost made me gag even though I had yet to taste it. I mewled in protest when it pushed more insistently against my lips, until the moment came that I was forced to open my mouth and take it in. I kept my eyes closed and he did not order me to open them, just as he did not order me to do anything once the hard flesh of him had invaded my mouth.

"That is my cock, little one, " he murmured, letting it slide slowly over my tongue. I was unable to answer and he did not seem to expect me to, holding the back of my head firmly as he filled my mouth. I had never before seen, let alone tasted, another man's cock and so did not know that the Master was of average length and only slightly above average girth. To me, it felt huge and like it was growing. It touched the back of my throat and I gagged violently, the dinner threatening to come back up in a hurry. He pulled back, still holding me firmly in place, allowing me a moment to gulp in some air, then did it again. I heard his groan of pleasure each time my throat spasmed around him, the groans becoming louder as he continued. Straining to submit to his rough attentions, I squirmed frantically on my knees at his feet, finding it more and more difficult to get enough air.

Just when I started to wonder if he intended to choke me into unconsciousness, he withdrew from my mouth. I coughed violently, dragging in a lungful of air as my eyes flew open to see him holding it in his fist before me. Glistening with my spit, it made me flush with shame. It looked even more swollen than before. With another loud groan, he jerked the organ in his hand once, twice.

A splatter of warm liquid hit me squarely in the face.

I screamed, and would have pulled back had his hand not been holding me by the neck. The second and third spurts landed on my breasts. Mortified, I tore my head from his grip and turned my face away.

"No, sweetheart, never turn away," he reproved mildly, recapturing my head and rubbing the wet tip of his semi-hard shaft on my lips. "Taste me." I almost gagged as I complied, lapping at him like an obedient puppy even as I felt his wetness start to trickle down my body from my chest. "Now thank me."

Tears filled my eyes again. How many times had I cried that night!? "Thank you, my Lord," I whispered, desperately seeking his approval.

"Good girl."

Relief flooded me. He left me kneeling in my stunned state and returned with a damp cloth with which he tenderly wiped my face and chest. I shivered, no longer trying to guess at what to expect from this man who could be so gentle in his care of me and yet so ruthless when he chose otherwise.

So utterly defeated was I, that I barely even reacted when he produced a length of shiny silver chain and looped it around my neck. Numbly, I lifted one hand and touched the thick links, knowing that it was not mean to be mere jewelry. The cold metal rolled smoothly against my skin and I flinched when there came a loud CLICK that I felt as much as heard.

"This cannot be removed unless it is cut," I heard him say from somewhere far away.

"Yes, my Lord," I answered automatically.

He murmured a response but I was no longer listening. The weight of the chain settled on my collarbone with a faint chink and I bowed my head in submission. I felt utterly lost, allowing myself to be picked up and tucked into bed by his side without a sound. My backside throbbed, my throat hurt, and my body ached all over. I could not breathe in without inhaling his scent and the smell of sex. Is this to be my life, I asked myself, and how will I bear it? His earlier words repeated themselves in my head. "You will bear it because I wish it," he had said.

I found no comfort in his words that night.

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