The Fifth Ch. 01

This story is dedicated to Lisa Jones, a true friend and great writer whose help and guidance on this and other of my stories has inspired me more than she knows

This is the 1st Part of a 12 part tale of a Lady and her stable of slaves

1. The End of a Day

Deanna began to slowly roll her head to and fro on her pillow, her hands alternately grasping at the bed sheets, as Michael kneeling at the side of her bed, the short end of the double ended dildo firmly clenched between his teeth, began to plunge the longer pleasure end of the device deeper and more urgently into her inner recesses. Her moans, which had slowly been building in intensity, were now becoming gasps and full throated groans as she approached the convulsion that was soon sure to come. He could smell, and almost even taste despite his full mouth of rubber, the musk of her juices that were beginning to seep out around his ever more vigorous thrusts. He knew that she was close and this spurred him on to even more ardent efforts. At that moment he desired nothing more that to bring her gloriously up and over the brink to that ecstasy that would fulfill his one and only purpose for the night.

It had all begun earlier in the evening when he had been summoned by her. None of them ever knew which of them might be called for this service at any given time. Thrilled, as he always was when he was the one chosen, he had entered her bedroom naked as was the requirement for this particular function, and had stood head bowed at the door awaiting her bidding. She was lying prone on her bed, covered only by a sheet, her head with eyes closed, resting comfortably on her folded arms beneath her. Her night lamp was dimmed low and for several long moments as he stood there he wasn't sure if she was aware that he had arrived. It was not his place to speak first however, but his growing anxiety was finally quelled when she opened her eyes, turned her face toward him, and simply said, "Come."

He made his way quickly to her side and knelt down. She regarded him, expressionless, for a few more moments, and then a small smile began to play on her lips as she uttered her next command.

"Bathe me." she said

"Yes My Lady. Thank you." he reverently replied, knowing now what was required. He reached up and carefully pulled the covering sheet off of her, finding her also naked beneath. Starting at the bottom of one foot he began to run his tongue in long, slow, broad laps up over her heel onto the back of her leg, over her calf, up to the back of her knee, covering every inch with leisurely strokes, before proceeding up the back of her upper leg. Reaching the bottom crease of her derriere he ceased and returned to the bottom of her other foot and performed the same sensuous service to that leg.

Upon reaching the lower fold of her other cheek, this time he played his tongue within and across it to the other side, then swirling it slowly in ever smaller circles around each mound, missing no part of either. Eventually he extended it up and down the center crack, eliciting from her as he did so soft purrs of pleasure.

In further response Deanna lifted her pelvis slightly up and off the bed. Taking this intended cue Michael cupped each half of her bottom in his hands, spreading them apart to expose her lower portal, which he instantly began to profusely lave. Luxuriating in this ultimate homage to her nether orifice for several long minutes she finally lowered her hips back down onto the bed, clearly indicating that it was time for him to move on.

He brought his tongue to the small of her back, covering it all before bringing it up the length of her spine, and then around each shoulder blade, to each flank, before returning to her shoulders, ending at last with light grazes over the back of her neck.

Sighing softly Deanna turned over onto her back as Michael moved his tongue to the front of her throat. He would go no higher. None of them were ever allowed the privilege or grace of her lips or mouth. These were far above any of their roles or station. Understanding this fully he came down to the cleft between her breasts, and then retracted his tongue to its very tip before ranging over the expanse of each, ever so lightly lingering over each of her hardening nipples.

Arching her back and mewling softly in clear invitation to proceed further down he re extended his tongue and played it lovingly over her entire belly, paying special attention to, and flicking it in and out of her navel. Mews became moans as Deanna then bent up her knees, spreading them apart, and put a hand on his head pushing him down, signaling without any question that her bath was now finished, and she now had more urgent needs and uses for his lips and tongue.

Michael shimmied down off the side of the bed back onto his knees and positioned his face between her bent up thighs. For a moment he gazed adoringly at his holiest of holies, but he wasn't there to revere but to serve, as some up and down motion of his Lady's pelvis made abundantly clear. He immediately moved forward to bring his nose and mouth in contact with her already moist and glistening outer lips, which he gently began to nuzzle and nibble. He continued as such for over a minute bringing on even more swaying of her hips. Suddenly she spread her knees wide, opening the way to her treasure within, inviting ... urging ... demanding that he move forth. He obeyed at once, his tongue darting out to join its moisture with her own, seeking and finding her now exposed jewel, swirling around and around it, and then pursing his lips as if trying to capture it between as he began to suck as well as lick, and she began to buck ever more vigorously in response.

He slid his tongue further into the cleft, probing deeper into her sanctum. He extended it as far as he was able, trying to stiffen it as much as possible, pushing it back and forth ever more rapidly. Deanna's entire body began to tingle as she felt herself fast approaching the crest. But she knew that she required more, she needed greater penetration than could be provided by a mere tongue. None of her slaves however, no matter how fond she might be of any of them, could ever be allowed such entry within her. This was crucial for her own sake, as much as to absolutely maintain the strict hierarchy she had created. But she wanted, needed more. And she was never to be denied.

"The joystick, Michael." she hungrily, breathlessly commanded.

Michael pulled back and reached under the bed, easily finding the open box with the appliance within, where it was always kept to be readily available at need. Brushing aside the cloth covering, he brought out the double ended dildo, inserted the shorter end into his mouth, and as swiftly as possible secured the straps around his head. It would not do to make his Lady wait.

At once his positioned his face, with the longer end of the joystick jutting forth, between her legs and carefully guided it to and through her bottom folds, up and into her impatiently awaiting vault. With his first stroke he slowly advanced it in its full length, eliciting from her an arched back and a long guttural sigh. Using his face then as the engine to piston faster and faster, she began to squirm and then writhe, rising higher and higher to the top of the wave. In moments she was there and knew that it would soon break and she would get the ride she so desperately desired.

And then it broke and crashed forward and she was flung as if in free form tumbling wildly within with almost no control. She clamped her thighs tightly around his face and sat up as much as she was able, locking both of her hands on the back of his head to keep it firmly in place, the device buried fully inside as she now rocked back and forth providing all the movement, and at least some semblance of her own volition.

With her head arched back a scream she couldn't hear in the tumult erupted from her as the wave surged forward from every fiber of her body to gush, as her juices surged out around the appliance to soak the face imprisoned below. It went on and on as she gripped tighter and tighter, and rocked more vigorously and vigorously, until the wave, almost blessedly, began to recede, and her cries became whimpers, and she finally released her hold, opened her legs, and fell back on the bed, exhausted. But sated.

Michael drew back as unobtrusively as possible, quickly unfastening the joystick and laying it on the floor by his side. He remained kneeling, head bowed, awaiting her dismissal, or, dare he even hope, that this night might be one when she would allow him blessed relief.

Deanna lay softly panting as she slowly came back within herself. That had been most enjoyable, as it almost always was. After several minutes she turned her head slightly to regard her kneeling slave. She knew what he, what they all so fervently desired, and she did attempt to occasionally grant it, just often enough to keep them ever striving to please her to perfection enough to attain it. Not too often, she knew, or it would lose its motivating allure. How long had it been for Michael? Maybe a month, she surmised. It was so hard to keep track with all of them. And his service had been exemplary, not just tonight, but in all of his day to day duties, not that she would ever tolerate anything less. So, on a whim, she decided that this night she would grant his always unspoken plea. She raised her hand languidly toward him.

"You may masturbate, Michael."

He almost swooned in front of her.

"Thank you my Lady." he could barely answer in a whisper. Collecting himself he brought a trembling right hand up to embrace his rock hard manhood. In reality, it had been well over seven weeks since his last release, and almost six weeks from the time before that. It had become apparent that the intervals between such allowances for all of them appeared to be growing longer and longer. But he had no right to question, only to be ever grateful for whenever and whatever reward his Lady might deign to bestow.

He began to stroke, slowly at first, hoping to savor the sensation for as long as possible. As he did so he bent forward and began to kiss her toes and the bottoms of her feet. This was the inviolate protocol established for him, that whenever given sufferance to pleasure himself so he could only do so while paying oral homage to her feet, to more firmly symbolize his place in her world. She also understood however that he regarded this allowance as a cherished gift as well. Truth be told, she had to admit to herself, she often got quite a rush from it herself, although as time had gone on the thrill, while still pleasant, had become less and less. Still, rituals and protocols, for all of them, needed to be observed, to keep it all on a solid footing. This time though, she was barely aware of his worship as she lay back, staring above as her mind drifted.

Michael began to pump harder, his left hand positioned in front to catch every drop of his emission when it came. This was another rule that dared never be broken. His veneration of her feet became even more ardent as his right hand pumped ever more furiously. Suddenly even Deanna became aware that his adoration of her feet was becoming more ragged and somewhat sloppy, then actually haphazard as he began to grunt in spasms, in time to what she realized was finally erupting below. Given the duration since his last ejaculation he had copious amounts of cum to collect.. Even after all pleasure had subsided he continued to squeeze and milk to get every last drip into his hand, his heaving breaths slowly calming in the process. At last all such dribbling appeared to end, and Michael bowed his head once again, cupped his right hand under his goo-filled left, and extended them up toward her.

Deanna glanced down at the large puddle of the pearly translucent offering which filled his entire palm. Now for the final act of the ritual. A ghost of a smile graced her lips.

"You may consume your offering, Michael."

"Thank you, My Lady." he sighed as he brought his hand to his mouth, and under her indolent gaze, lapped and licked until it was completely clean. When this was done, she turned her head away.

"Send Edward in." was all she said.

"Yes, My Lady. Thank you, My Lady"

Thus dismissed he arose off his knees, picking up the joystick as he went. He would later lick it completely clean, before washing it with soap and water, and then replacing it back under her bed for future use whenever she required it.

A mere minute after he departed a distinguished looking gentleman, dressed in full butler attire, entered the room. Appearing decidedly younger than his seventy years, Edward was Deanna's oldest slave, both in age and longevity of service. He had been the first she had acquired, over five years ago, and he had become over that time her chief administrator, her major domo, who kept her growing household and stable running as a well oiled machine. He had also become her personal attendant ... and even an advisor and confidante, something even a Domme needed at times. For all of these reasons and more she had developed a special fondness for him, something he would never dare to believe, but which he always strove mightily to deserve.

"My Lady?" he inquired deferentially once he had stepped inside the bedroom door.

"My robe and slippers, Edward."

"Yes, My Lady."

He strode briskly to her walk in closet and came out seconds later with a white silk robe and a pair of furred slippers which he brought over to her bedside. She sat up and shifted her legs over the side. He put the robe down carefully beside her, and then knelt down to place the slippers onto her feet. She arose and he also stood, picked up the robe and helped her into it, finally tying it for her in front.

"I'm going to freshen up a bit before bed." she informed him as she walked toward her personal bathroom.

"Yes, My Lady." he answered to her receding back as she entered it and closed the door behind. Ten minutes later she re emerged to find, as was expected, her rumpled bed remade, her pillows propped and plumped, and the sheets and covers smartly turned down. On her bed as well, her satin nightgown and a pair of panties were carefully laid out, as Edward stood unassuming at the foot of her bed awaiting her return.

She made her way back to the side of her bed where he helped her out of her robe, once again revealing her nudity beneath. She sat down on the edge and he immediately knelt down to take off her slippers, and then reached up to take her panties off the bed and guide her feet and legs through until they were up and settled in their proper place.

"Moisturizer." she said.

Edward reached over to the bedside table for a bottle of lotion. He poured some liberally into his hands, then rubbed them together to warm it. Beginning with one of her feet he applied it smoothly and evenly up her leg to the top, then pouring more lotion into his hand did the same for her other foot and leg. Deanna leaned back and he stood up to spread more over her belly, up, around and over her breasts, not lingering there any longer than was necessary. This was not playtime, nor even the long, soothing body massage that was also one of his regular duties to her. This was simply his bedtime care of her skin.

After he reached the front of her neck she straightened up and turned to her side so he could minister to her back and shoulders. Once he was done she reached over to the bed stand for her jar of facial creme. As always, contact with her face was forbidden for any slave ... or anyone else for that matter.

Rubbing some in over her entire face she then recapped the jar, handed it to Edward to put back, and stood up. He helped her into her nightgown and then pulled down the covers of her bed more fully for her entrance. She sat and then slid her legs beneath, laid her head back on her pillow, and looked up at him.

"Is Thomas attended?" she asked

"Always, My Lady." he replied.

She turned her gaze away from him.

"Seven o'clock, Edward."

"Yes, My Lady."

"Good night, Edward."

"Good night, My Lady."

As he departed she settled back more comfortably into her pillows. It had been a full and busy day, with a pleasant enough nightcap at the end. She reached over to turn off the lamp on her bed stand.

She drifted off to sleep, vaguely unsatisfied.