But I'm a Good Girl!

He stroked my now tangled hair and asked me if I was okay. I nodded as best I could in response to His question. I was drained of all energy. Mouth dry, muscles weak, I felt I could have slept for a week. He held me close as I drifted into a gentle mix of somewhere between sleep and subspace. I felt His warmth, but my body was no longer active and I started to noticed the chill in the air. He covered me up once He noticed the goosebumps bumps on my arms, and gently stroked them in an attempt to warm them slightly. Little kisses were planted on my neck as I rested, He simply held me until I was ready. I was unaware of how long passed, five minutes? Ten? An hour? I started to come back to the real world and opened my eyes,

"Are you feeling okay? Are you hurting anywhere?" He asked me.

I could barely utter even the softest of mumbles. Getting up He fetched me a glass of water, and helped me sit whilst ordering me to drink it. Taking a fresh fluffy towel, He cleaned up any wetness still remaining between my legs, though not from His cum this time, there was still plenty of mess that had been made. As I finished drinking He took the glass from me and put it quietly on the side. He stood in front of me and held His arms towards me so I grabbed hold. He helped me as I stand for a very welcome hug. This gave Him the opportunity to untangle and remove all the ropes He had tied around me. He was worried and frantic that He had hurt me, that I would hate Him for what He had done to me. I hugged Him tightly; breathed in the spicy smell of His shower gel that was now mixed with His sweat and with my juices; and let it all out with a huge satisfied sigh. I still couldn't quite talk properly, but I hoped He understood the message.

Eventually I stood up by myself well enough to go and clean up properly. He knew I preferred to do this myself, and He took this opportunity to remove the now sodden waterproof sheets off the bed, and picked up all the toys ready for cleaning. I examined the mess I had become as I looked in the mirror. My hair was dishevelled, lipstick all but disappeared. The nice thick eyeliner I had applied with such care now created tear stains, and was smeared over my face. I took a quick photo to upload, and then wiped it all off. After getting dressed again I returned to the bedroom just as He finished up and I smiled at Him sheepishly. It almost looked like He had shrunk in size after our session. Besides the pile of cleaning and the smell of sex in the air, the room was back to being a bedroom rather than a sex room. It felt surreal that less than an hour ago we were having hours of such kinky fun.

We moved into the living room where the sun still just about shone through the big window. He told me to sit and make myself comfortable. He looked through the cupboards and gathered some ingredients so He could begin to cook for me. I never requested this, but it needed to be done. This was His way of taking care of me, and helped Him accept what He had put me through. I sat watching Him for a bit, studied His face and the look of concentration He had as He was fully engrossed in what He was doing. His once fluffy hair was now heavy and straggled, damp against His forehead, and He was wearing casual, baggy clothes now instead of smart attire. I often wondered what went through His head at times like this. I knew I was still feeling high from the session, but He didn't get that; He felt remorse. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the smells and sounds of His cooking and the warmth of the sun, and it wasn't long before I started to drift off.