Tending to Order: Nightly Servitude

Indigo darkness blanketed the night, new moon in March. Stars sparkled white brilliance in the sky outside – inside, she padded around grey slate floors in bare feet, lighting candles on every surface.

After midnight. In the distance, a train roared on nearby tracks, blowing its whistle in warning. She was comforted by this timbre – some childhood memory that made her feel warm and safe. She sat alone in the soft yellow light, watching the flicker of candle flame and shadows cast on the walls.

Earlier, she submerged in a lavish bath filled with fragrance and softeners. She shaved meticulously with an elegant pearl-handled razor, carefully measured strokes from ankle to thighs and under each arm. Stretching out in the porcelain tub, she arched her back so that the tender pubis between her legs was just below the water, shaving stubble grown since yesterday… using her fingers to follow the triple-edge blade, making certain her flesh felt smooth to even the most sensitive touch.

She heard His car pull into the driveway, the sound of His footsteps on the sidewalk, the turn of His key in the lock. Her heart raced, anxious to pleasure Him

She met Him at the foyer, arms were folded, elbows slightly bent, wrists crossed at the small of her back, fingers entwined. Ample breasts curved down, large pinkish areolas tipped with light brown nipples. Her belly, rounded and soft, balanced on strong hips connected to nicely shaped legs. Her American Indian ancestry colored her skin a fair golden shade, smooth except for an occasional tiny mole, and a couple of noticeable scars. She wore no make-up, no adornments. Framing a perfect nose, her finely sculpted cheeks blushed like a blooming rose at sunrise.

In fact, it was what made her so right for Him. There were no pretenses – she was innocent and wise, intelligent and sensitive, and she spoke softly, with emotion and depth. He was reserved, stating in brief what required conveyance, and she was an open book, turning pages fast and furious. He held her steady, so she could focus – and she learned to trust His judgment. Even now, when she wanted to race down the road, increasing speed, wind blowing through her hair, rushing into adventure – press the throttle, go faster. He would remove the keys from the ignition, commanding their journey, and showing her, once again, that He held the map. He was navigator.

He was called Master, and she was His obedient submissive.

"May I take Your coat, Sir?" she whispered in the darkness. He looked down at Her, reached out to touch silky auburn hair, brushing it away from her tender face.

He didn't speak, but nodded affirmation, taking it off and handing it to her. She stood, reaching on tiptoe to hang it on the rack. He touched her shoulder and she turned, looking into dark eyes to read His silent command.

As she presented her navel, He leaned down to appraise what belonged to Him. The fragrance of her filled His nostrils, and He breathed in deeply. Satisfied, He restored His posture. She endeavored to please Him, and she did.

"Master, please come with me. I have a surprise for You." He smiled, amused. Each day with her could be construed as a "surprise", for she was endless in originality and inherent thoughts others might never conceive, often merging past into present and future so gracefully, it seemed her spirit tread lightly between multiple layers of existence, real and surreal. He saw that she coped through events and circumstances with dignity – assisted by an assembly of personages.

Wordlessly, she led Him through the living room to the sunken bedroom, where pale flames flickered in an array of candelabras and crystal bowls filled with water. The bed, an elegant cherry four-poster, was shrouded in flowing chiffon - hues of pastel violet, ivory and deep black were braided around the canopy frame. Feather mattress and down pillows covered in pure white linens, and a delicate quilt, embroidered by her.

Textured sky-blue walls, stark white enamel crown mold and a pair of single east-west floor-to-ceiling windows, made the room a peaceful respite for exquisite views at sunrise and sunset.

Placed in the northwest corner was a plush club chair imported from Italy. Richly upholstered in fine suede leather, comfortably styled with wide-rolled arms and generous cushioning, the seating invited relaxation. To the right, an 18th century French side table with curved cabriole legs and two drawers. Originally used to string pearls, now some of His favorite readings were neatly stacked on the lower shelf – inside, He kept pens, paper and other personal items. Set upon the glass top: one white candle floating in a small Waterford bowl; a bottle of wine, cooled to room temperature, the cork removed for breathing; and two amethyst colored crystal wine stems.

To His left, an abundance of stunning white gladiolas filled an exquisite hand-painted Bavarian porcelain vase. Placed within reach, a beautifully carved wooden chest displayed lovers touching fingertips across a rose garden. Just above the sterling silver latch, His initials in Edwardian script

His eyes paused on a mahogany bed step in front of the chair. Simply designed with turned legs and curved sides. A white porcelain basin set on the top level, accompanied by folded cotton terry towels.

"Sir, may I undress You?" her seductive voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, do." He said only what was necessary; she didn't need more instruction. She descended through air to her knees, skillfully unbuckled His belt, and removed it slowly through loops with lips and teeth, careful not to leave indentions in the black leather. Deftly, unhooked and unzipped His slacks, pulling them to the floor. Shirt, underwear, socks, shoes. She took away each piece of attire, tending her task as if performing ballet. He watched, appreciating the feminine creature for precise handiwork completed in due order.

Opening the chest only briefly, she retrieved and presented Him with a dark green silk robe, "Please, Sir, for Your comfort." He slipped arms through quarter-sleeves, reached for the expected tie – smiled when He realized there wasn't one. He looked at her. She smiled back, and winked – the quiet temptress, eager to please. Her blue eyes followed as He took long strides across the room to sit down in the chair. Only then did she begin a slow, sensuous crawl across the floor, hair falling around her face in fine strands of garnet and copper. Left palm, right knee… right palm, left knee… centered on Him, not feeling the cold, hard stone as she passed over it.

Arriving at His feet, she bent to kiss the inside of each ankle, lips barely touching flesh. He felt her lips brush upward, and she moved onto the lower step of the mahogany bench, kneeling once again.

"May I pour Your wine, Master?" she asked, waiting until He responded to proceed. He nodded, and she lifted the crystal decanter, filling an elegant purple goblet exactly as He had demonstrated on one previous occasion.

She learned quickly, desired to serve Him well. He took the glass from her. "You may continue. Tend to me."

She reached forth with manicured fingers, buffed but not polished, and opened His robe completely. Her bosom lay flat against the folded towels as she pressed her face against His flaccid cock and heavy balls. She stayed this way for over a minute, inhaling His intoxicating scent: mild perspiration mixed with woodsy Aramis. She felt the intense passion building in the pit of her being, raw lust for Him.

Settling back, she opened the chest next to His chair. Inside, rich red velvet lining, and a rose-gold placard with a scrolled engraving: "The gift is Trust." She methodically removes a tiny pair of sharp manicure scissors, soft bristled brush, polished silver keepsake box, glycerin soap and soft washcloth. Without speaking, she placed one towel between His thighs on the chair. Scissors in one hand, she expertly clipped sections of pubic hair, saving the trimmings, as always, in the little silver box. She stroked gently with the baby brush, admiring His handsome genitalia, a fine specimen of man indeed. She enjoyed this task – it was far from laborious, it filled her with joy.

Satisfied with her work, she looked for His approval before continuing. He simply nodded again, without inspection – she was adept at caring for His needs. He felt the warm washcloth, and watched her lather soap around His thick column and large sacs. Her straight fine hair fell past shoulders, breasts swaying gently as she gently rinsed. Finally, she used a clean terry towel to pat Him dry.

In less than two minutes, she had put all instruments in the chest, and carried away the basin, wet cloth and towels. Returning, she resumed kneeling on the lower step, leaned with forearms on the polished wood, and pushed her face into His groin with a contented sigh. "Your cock is so magnificent, my Master. Please, may I taste You?" her voice, girl-like and sincere, vibrated against His flesh.

"Yes, my slut baby. Serve me well."

His thick pole became more rigid as she held it toward His abdomen, and began to sensuously lick the underside of His balls. Her tongue explored the sensitive length of flesh, flicking back and forth until her nose was pressed against His weighty testicles, and her mouth sucked gently at His anal sphincter. He slid slightly forward, gripping her hair in a loosely gathered ponytail.

Her saliva bathed His asshole, and she began to tongue-fuck Him, in and out, circling the puckered opening, probing farther each time she entered. She loved the feeling of His fingers in her hair, and the taste of Him in her mouth. He was fastidious about cleanliness – just as she was – and He was always delicious.

She traced her fingers along the long, swollen tube from which His seed rose, and then licked His cock completely, generously. Finally, she slipped the bulbous knob into her silken lips, letting her teeth rest just under the ridge… raking sharp edges gently back and forth. He let out a groan that seemed to emerge from the very place where her mouth covered – and pressed hands hard against her head, forcing her to take Him deeper.

His cock filled her throat, and she struggled with its size. She focused on opening her lingual muscles to accommodate the breadth, swallowing His length until she felt His balls against her chin. Stopping for a moment – like that. He allowed her time to adjust, and then fucked her mouth slowly. She sucked Him in, swirling her tongue around the textured head, tapping her teeth gently with each stroke.

After immeasurable time, lost in the pleasure of her service, He pulled her head away. She looked up, witnessed Him contemplating the bed step, and didn't wait for His command. Wordlessly, she slithered to the floor, turned the small bench around, slid off her panties, and resumed kneeling on the lower level.

His breathing intensified, watching the woman move sinuously to reposition the step, and her self. Knees placed apart on far edges of wood surface, thighs spread, rounded buttocks facing Him. She curved around, hair falling in disarray almost to the floor, and whispered her plea.

"Master, please brand me with Your fiery release." Sultry, sexy vixen… she was an irresistible little creature.

He held her hips with both hands, sliding His cock up and down the crevice between fleshy cheeks. She pressed backward, pleading – but He only reached beneath, pinching her swollen clit between thumb and forefinger, noting how wet she was. He put an index finger inside her slick vaginal lips, caressing, exploring the folds… two, then three fingers… her muscles contracting and releasing, imploring Him deeper.

The veins in His extended column throbbed, and He could wait no more. He used His submissive's own honey to moisten her anus, stretching it gently but firmly. She pressed hips back against His hand – begging instinctively with her body for His cock. He placed the engorged knob at the tight entrance, and she cried out as it broke through the rim, enclosing Him to the ridge. He waited patiently, stroking her back, soothing her with whispers. She took long, deep breaths – then pushed back again, taking His length into her bowels slowly, until she felt His weighty sacs fall against her slick womanhood.

He listened to her, an aching chant, and His erection pulsed feverishly. He pulled her hips back and forth, thrusting more violently as her asshole stretched and relaxed. She was His, the most precious treasure, trusting Him with every frailty, serving Him freely.

Hot seed filled His cock, and He pulled out from her warmth, painting her flesh with the fiery eruption… thick translucent whiteness spurt onto her flesh – His mark of ownership. She squirmed beneath Him, waves of orgasm flooded her in uncontrollable tides and she cried out His name.

He lay back on the chair, exhausted. She turned, not bothering to move the stepstool, and licked His cock clean. Afterwards, she crawled up into His lap, laying her head upon His chest to sleep. He encircled her with both arms, letting His fingers come to rest at the base of her delicate throat. They slept like this, foregoing the bed, blanketed in affection and devotion. ~ Forever, never-ending ~