Seed

We are climbing the stairwell to the Master's Suite. It is time for my favorite of rituals. My sister slaves don't appreciate Worship as I do. I am First Among Equals so there is a certain expectation that I would be exuberant about it. They are always jockeying for favor with Him. Even when they are being punished or disciplined, they curry Master's favor.

Master is wise though and sees through their petulant pretenses. I know they look on me as the unlovely one; my body heavier, my age older, my bosom slightly fallen. Yet I have served Master all these years and He has always found my devotion to Him to be, not only heartfelt, but exuberant. Worship is my time to express my love for Him beyond obedience.

"He hasn't been with any of us for over a week," they youngest sister slave says.

"I thought He might take me yesterday, but He just took a cane to my fanny," her sister slave added. I try not to let a smile cross my face, my red hair falling over my eyes as we climb the stairs.

We take turns at Worship. This week is my time. While my sister slaves will be in the room to attend to Master's needs if necessary, they will not be able to interfere or meddle in my time. We arrive at the threshold of the Master's Suite. It is nearly time. The girls start to knock but I stop them, still in authority over them.

"Be still, there now," I chide the one raising her hand, slapping it with my own. She pulls it back with a face of surprise. It amazes me when they are taken aback when I still correct them for things they already know.

"I'm sorry Sister," she whispers aware of our proximity to Master. I soften my expression but still remain firm.

"Five swats before bed tonight. Remind me."

"Yes Sister." I turn back to the door and wait until I hear the first chime of the nineteenth hour come from downstairs. I knock immediately upon it registering on my ears.

"Come." Master's voice is rich like chocolate to my ears and I open the double doors and usher the sisters in. They are wearing their evening dresses that fit closely to their younger, lithe bodies. Master has just emerged from bathing and is wearing his long robe. I am wearing my gauze-like nightgown. In the low light of the candles, Master can make out the silhouette of my nakedness beneath. The girls immediately without having to ask begin their tasking for the evening: turning down the bed, preparing His wine goblet, closing the windows.

I take my position kneeling in front of the high back, cushioned, chair that is positioned throne-like on a small pedestal, in the sitting room of the Master Suite. Beyond is the fantasy land of His bed chamber where my fondest memories and most exquisite fantasies lie.

Master is no longer a young man. Perhaps that is why the young slaves still maintain a petulance about them that would make me uncomfortable. Now in His late forties, I have noticed that His libido while still rugged and virile, doesn't have that seemingly insatiable nature it once had when I was first enslaved by Him. How vividly I remember how every one of my holes could expect to be filled with his staff on a daily basis at times. There is a sadness in the ways of time, even as I have watched it turn my once voluptuous frame into one of settled girth.

As the girls move off to do chores, Master comes and stands over me, juxtaposing Himself between the chair and I. I lower my gaze respectfully. I feel his hand, warm, large caress my cheek.

"Hello precious girl," His voice sings to me. I let my gaze rise affectionately now that I have been recognized. His face, wise and full of compassion, looks on me thoughtfully. I smile at His obvious affection for me.

"What brings you to my parlor?" His rhetorical question is playful and unnecessary.

"This fat one seeks the privilege of Worshipping your totem tonight." I see his face frown slightly.

"Do you think I feel you are too fat?" The question takes me by surprise.

"Master, I am fat."

"Have I ever made that an issue for you?"

"No, Master. You have never made me feel anything but lovely in Your sight." It was true. His gaze was always amorous and desirous despite my weight.

"I will hear no more of this."

"Yes Master." He turned and took His seat in the chair before me and gestured. I rose and with a simple release of the sash of my gown, let it slip off my body. My breasts though pendulous respond to His gaze, my thick nipples crinkling in delicious anticipation across the width of my wide areola. I feel the heat of growing moisture in the cleft of my shaven sex. I watch Him as I step close. He is sitting in the chair like a pirate who has just pillaged the monarch's domain. On His cue, I kneel between His outstretched legs. His talk was firm with me, but His cock spoke of different feelings. He has told me that I am the superior fellatrix in the house. It is a conservative complement, because I know that He thinks about the sensation of my tongue and lips around the Obelisk of my affection. In like manner, He knows that I crave to suck at His staff like a drunkard seeks ale. The most rewarding sensation I have known other than Master's kiss is the delicious coating of my tongue with His salty seed.

That is worship in our Home. The slave gets the privilege of nursing on Master's stem, gazing up into His eyes and receiving all that He has for her when He does. It is why I get up at the Dawn's beckoning, to come and kneel at Master's feet, feel His cock in my mouth and savor the taste of His virility.

There is sweetness in His gaze at me. Sometimes, I become so focused on His cock that I forget to look up at His affectionate gaze. His cock mesmerizes me. Now, I am using my tongue to gently lick and caress Him. He gazes down on me and we speak as I Worship.

"You will be making short work of me, sweet one." I kiss the underside of His mushroom head tenderly.

"I am at your service should you wish to continue beyond your climax, Master." Master makes a wry smile at my jest as I take half of his staff into my mouth and let it rest there as my tongue massages the soft spot that will bring my reward.

"Do you ever wish to be released my being my bond-slave, precious one? Do you ever wish to do this as my equal?"

I was about to take Him deep into my throat but instead I unlatched from Him my face falling serious. I had never contemplated the question. I am His property and have no more say in my life than a man does in preventing the change of weather. More to the point though, I have never considered it because I never wanted to consider it. I have been punished by Master, fucked by Master, used by Him. I have lived to obey His commands, His suggestions and His whims. His pleasure is my most compelling act of fulfillment. I was happy.

"This one only hopes to see pleasure in Your gaze." It was a diversionary statement that didn't speak to Master's question and I immediately sat back onto my legs, my face unable to hide the transgression that I committed.

"You sound like one of the young girls, so tricky with your words." He wasn't angry but He was making it clear that He saw through my wordplay. Why did I not want to answer Him? As soon as the question resonated in my heart I knew the answer. "Yes, Master," I whispered trying not to sob. "I didn't want to answer you honestly."

"Why, sweet girl?"

"Because, Master,...I am afraid You will want to emancipate me. I don't want to be released from You. Forgive me for misleading you Master." Master extended His hand to me ready to lead me to instant absolution for my sin. He guided me across His lap, a place where I find the greatest solace.

"I have no intention of releasing you, Pet, but I do get to know if you would ever prefer it. It seems that you would rather lie to me than risk my freeing you." I began to cry. I wanted to Worship more but I needed this punishment because I wasn't open with Him. He called for one of the girls to bring a strap even as He began to spank my wide, white bottom with resounding slaps of his hand. As soon as the sharp spanking began I allowed myself to start crying to begin the cathartic process of emotional healing. After awakening my bottom with about twenty swats of his bare hand, He paused and accepted the strap from my sister slave. It was a small leather strap used for minor punishments and it was easy for him to continue with the discipline. He spanked more severely than before though my crying, more out of brokenness, than pain went unabated without change in degree. When we both agreed that justice had been served, Master allowed me to return to my position between His legs.

His cock had not lost any of its turgidness and I pressed its velvet softness against my cheek in appreciation. As soon as my mouth returned to the textured landscape of Master's Obelisk, I was once again solely entranced with the thought of enjoying His seed; savoring it.

Master was the first man to ever ejaculate in my mouth. I remember when He first did it I almost threw up. He gave me the cane in such a way that I learned very quickly. I was so young and foolish. He hadn't even taken my chaste yet. Now, I am so yearning for the sticky treasure that I sometimes lay awake in my own bed chamber thinking about it. His ejaculate is in one manner salty but in another there is an otherworldly living aspect to it that I have turned into a personal fetish. Even now, Master sees that I am moving past a point of no return, hungry serving and pleasing Him out a purely selfish motive now.

"Don't stop," Master says, "even while I am speaking to you."

"Yes, Master," I say before His proud member once more disappeared first into my mouth and then into the depths of my throat which has learned to happily accommodate his ample cock without gagging.

"You are my favorite, you know." I had Him in the front of my mouth and looked up at him with a smile, but obediently continued to suckle Him.

"Next week, I want to give you my seed inside you. I want you to carry my child." I almost gagged as if in the old days. I continued to hold Him in my mouth, moving my mouth up and down over the length of His member. Tears of love were filling my eyes. I affirmed His request with my expression.

Wisely, He had already calculated the cycle of my flow, know that I will be most fertile for Him in a week. I suddenly felt myself as the most fortunate woman. In the span of time that I spent in Worship of Cock, I received a spanking, absolution, His favor and forgiveness, and the gift of knowing that next week, I will receive Him into my cunny. Not bent over a chair or on my knees but facing my love, my legs wrapped joyfully around Him, my womb anxious to be filled by Him. He nods at the tearful joy I am exhibiting, It is also a signal that He is ready to bless me with my final gift of the evening.

I bring His amazing penis to the front of my mouth, opening it for His appreciation. I extend my tongue underneath the head which invariably brings Him to fruition. I hear Him groan deeply and I feel the pulsing in His shaft. The miraculous fluid flows out over my tongue into my mouth. I use my fingers to gently pump the fluid out, my mouth now filled with His seed. When He has shuddered with the final strands of the treasure, I lift my hand underneath is twitching cock, as several drops of the precious semen slip off my bottom lip into my palm. Once He has been shown that all of it is in my possession, I tilt my head slightly and feel the warm, salty mixture of seed slide down my throat and into my stomach. I lick all of the stray drops and devour them as well.

I am my Master's slave. My life is His as is my body. He will take my cunny for His own and breed me. I will bring Him the joy of a child and I will consider it a solemn duty. I am my Master's slave.