Staked Out Naked

I shiver.

Taking my hand my Mistress turns me and I freeze at the sight of a huge wolf watching me from ice blue eyes.

Wait, no, a dog, not a wolf, but Jesus.

She tugs my hand, "It's okay, he won't hurt you, unless he thinks you threaten me."

We walk over to the fire and she guides me to a chair, before pouring fragrant coffee from a thermos and kneeling before me, she hands me the mug.

I close my hands around it, breathe in the steam and sip.

"Oh God."

Mistress smiles at me. It seems wrong that that she is kneeling before me, but I like being able to see her so clearly.

The flickering fire brings out strands of red in her hair, and she seems so different here.

Above the fire is a portrait.

My Mistress, younger with a radiant smile. In her arms is a baby.

She follows my gaze and her eyes cloud with sadness.

"That day on the island," I venture, "was it an anniversary?"

Absently tucking some hair behind her ear, she nods, "His birthday. He would be fourteen."

"I'm so sorry."

She nods again slowly and sighs.

There are a few moments of silence then she looks up at me, "Are you not going to ask?"

"It's not my place to ask Mistress."

She frowns slightly at me, though I feel she isn't really seeing me.

Then, "My husband and son were killed in a crash. Drunk driver. My son was four."

"I really am so sorry," I say again looking up at the portrait, "there is such love in the picture, it's very clear."

Mistress plays with a thread on her jeans, not looking up as she says, "My husband was the drunk driver."

"I can say again I'm sorry, but it doesn't really help," I offer.

"It does actually," she says, "and you gave me great comfort on the island. It changed something for me."

I shift in the chair, gasping a little as my ribs catch.

There is dark bruising and as I gingerly touch it, I notice a smaller bruise on my hand. Needle marks.

Mistress sits, watching me.

"Have I been in hospital?"

"A clinic," she nods, "a few days. It was Sunday that Kitty's father tried to kill you. Today is Thursday."

"This may not be of much solace" she continues, "but I was already on my way back to you. Old Betty was also on her way to you, but from the other side of the island."

She waves her hand from side to side in a gesture I've noticed with the Islanders, "The cell service on the island is not so good," she says with a shrug.

"Mistress."

"I know."

"I didn't hurt that girl. Kitty, it wasn't me."

"I know," she repeats in the same patient tone, "they found him."

Her eyes are kind and filled with sympathy, not the cold disdain with which she observed me before.

"I'm sorry Tom, he could have been your twin."

A sob tears out of my throat taking me by surprise, Mistress quickly grabs the coffee and places it on a side table as another gasping sob shudders out of me.

"You know?"

She nods and overwhelmed, I fall into her arms.

She cradles me against her breasts as I shake and cry, "I hated that you thought I had done that."

"I know Tom, I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve any of that," she says softly.

"Old Betty suspected that you were not guilty, that's why she went looking for the real culprit. The things you said to her when you were ill, convinced her that you were innocent."

"I don't really remember," I say with a hiccup. Jumping as something cold hits my face.

The dog replaces it's nose with his tongue and licks the tears from my cheek, before moving in for what looks to him like a snuggle-fest.

I pull him in with one arm as Mistress hold me close, and I slowly calm.

Listening to her as she explains how Old Betty had only just made it to me before Kitty's father beat me to death.

Pulling him from me herself and nursing me until help arrived.

She didn't tell me what had happened to the other guy.

I didn't ask.

Finally, my ribs are too uncomfortable, and I move back into my chair, the mug of cooling coffee replaced in my hands.

Mistress sits cross legged on the floor.

Eventually I place the coffee aside.

"I'm dead."

"Yes, you are."

"So, what do I do?" I ask.

She smiles, "You heal, you rest, and then you decide."

"Mistress."

She bites her lip, watching me.

"I want to stay with you."

She smiles.

"Can I stay with you?" I whisper, hardly daring to hope.

"You will need to earn your keep," she replies with a stern look.

"Yes," I frown, "when my ribs are less sore," I offer.

"I can," I search around for a useful task, "chop wood," I say, pointing at the fire.

"You can worship your Mistress?" she suggests.

This time I smile.

Mistress whispers a command to the dog who, with a doggy sigh, climbs onto a large cushion near the fire, but away from us.

Mistress lies back on the floor, her hair fanning out.

"Starting now," she commands.

I fall back to my knees and carefully, wincing a little, climb over her.

She lies open and soft as I lower myself to her.

My loose pajamas allowing my hard cock to slip naturally between her denim clad legs.

My stomach lines up with hers, my chest crushing her breasts beneath me.

Her hand slides back into my hair as our lips merge.

I am home.

THE END -- For JT x