Slowly, she took off her coat, hung it in the hall closet and said, ‘So, how was your day?’
My day? How was my day? How could she ask me that? What does she mean, how was my day? Images of how I spent the seemingly endless hours of my day flashed through my mind like a trailer for a new TV show.
This was going to be worse than I had imagined.
My day was spent preparing myself for what I knew was going to be a very satisfying night with you. My day was spent cleaning, dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing, showering and shaving to make everything perfect for you. The way you like it. My day was spent trying desperately to avoid the kitchen sink so as not to be tempted to do the one chore you asked of me. My day was spent wondering how you would react when you saw the dishes still piled up in the sink from this morning. My day was spent carefully planning and calculating this exact moment. But never once in the course of my day did I actually expect that I would have to tell you that I didn’t do the one task you had required of me. Never once during the entire day. How do I tell you all that?
Not knowing how to do so I said simply: ‘Fine.’
‘Fine? Tell me more. Tell me what you did today. Tell me everything,’ she demanded. Nervously, I began rattling off all the chores I had done during the day. While reciting the events of the day I began to walk with her to the bedroom where I untied her boots, removed them and set them neatly by the door. I almost added this to my list of events for the day but thought better of it and refrained.
‘Is that all?’ she said.
This was the moment I had been waiting for all day. I wanted the chance to tell her what I had really been doing all day.
‘No,’ I said.
I didn’t have the courage to look at her when I finished the rest of the sentence, so I stated the remainder of my memorised speech to her sock-clad feet.
‘I also prepared myself to show you how much I adore you. If you will only allow me to show you this, Mistress, it will hopefully be worthwhile for you. Please.’ I finished in a rush.
Surprised at this unusual change of topic she assessed me for a moment, then slowly inclined her head once to grant me permission to continue.
Thrilled at this opportunity to please her, I began to unbutton her shirt slowly, babbling about how much I had looked forward to her coming home and how eager I was to make her happy.
Her shirt was completely removed and I placed my hands on the buttons of her jeans.
Before I could continue she put her hands forcefully on top of mine to stop me. She said, ‘You will please me only when you are naked before me and not before.’
I stood before her and began to unbutton my shirt and let it slip gently over my shoulders and slide down my back to the floor. Shivering from the sensations of the starched cotton gliding over my soft skin, I unbuttoned my jeans and turned so that when I slid them down I would be bent over with my panty-clad ass in the air toward her.
A soft hiss of breath told me that she appreciated the view.
I stepped carefully out of each leg of my jeans before slowly turning back toward her.
Looking deep into her eyes, I unhooked my bra and crossed my arms over my chest to pull the arm straps down. She could tell me to strip but I could decide how slowly I wanted to reveal myself to her.
Dropping my bra on the pile of clothes already on the floor, I thrust my chest proudly forward toward her. I knew she liked my breasts. She would often come up to squeeze them or to pinch the nipples just to watch them pucker and strain into her palm.
My growing excitement and the coolness of the air now caused them to become tiny hard beads. I wondered if she had noticed yet, so I cupped one breast in each hand and pinched the tiny nipples so that they jutted out toward her more.
She noticed.
I heard her deep, low growl and knew I was pushing the limits of how far she would let me play this taunting game with her. I quickly moved my fingers down to the waistband of my lavender panties, edged them under the tight elastic and began slowly pushing them down the length of my thighs. This time I bent forward to cover as much of my body as possible, hoping to draw this delicious moment out for one more heartbeat.
I knew her gaze would be fixed on my now free-swinging pendulous breasts as they drew toward the floor. I finally stood up, stepped out of my panties, left them where they fell and allowed her to gaze on my now fully naked body.
I began walking toward her; her eyes were still on my rock-hard nipples. When I reached the bed I again placed my hand on the buttons of her jeans and began to pull them slowly open. She stood up so that I could drag them down to the floor without delay. Kneeling at her feet, I pulled her jeans completely off and before I had the chance to stand again she grabbed me by the back of my hair and tugged on it, hard enough to make my eyes water.
She growled, ‘You are mine, little one.’
As if I needed to be reminded.
As if it weren’t already in my every thought?
Even though she hadn’t phrased it as a question, I answered her with an immediate:
‘Yes, Mistress, I am all yours. Always.’
Forever.
She released my hair and allowed me to continue my ministrations. I finished undressing her and asked if she would grant me the further liberty of blindfolding her.
‘For what purpose?’ she demanded.
‘Simply for the purpose of further pleasing you, Mistress. I wish to show you what I feel but I am still a bit … nervous.’
She nodded once. ‘Good. Nervous will keep you in line, but remember that I will allow it only this once.’
She climbed onto the huge captain’s bed, lay down there with her hands propped behind her head, and waited for me to continue.
Yes, she would grant me certain liberties, but she would not make obtaining them any easier.
I climbed onto the bed after her and reached down behind the bed to where I had hidden my ‘stash’ of materials earlier in the day. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, I again knelt over the side of the bed and picked up the feather. Not knowing where to start, I began at the most logical place: her face. I felt her slight twitch at the initial contact of the feather on her skin. Slowly I traced every curve and hollow of her beautiful face.
Lovingly, I watched as the feather traced the path that I wished my tongue could follow. But I knew if I gave in now it would be over too quickly. And I wanted this to last. Gently, I switched from a gliding motion to a quick tapping one and tapped a path down her neck to her shoulders. Without warning I replaced the feather with an ice cube. I heard her startled gasp and then nothing.
She returned to reserved silence. With one hand I continued the chilling assault on her upper body, from shoulders to breasts and back. With the other I carefully prepared the next sensation tool: the candle. I could see the wet path the ice had left along her skin. I could see a hint of goose bumps on her flesh, the only indication that she was cold, for her voice would give nothing away.
I lifted the ice cube off her body and cooed, ‘You are cold. Here, let me warm you,’ and I lifted the candle and tilted it directly over her taut nipple.
A sharp cry and a muffled gasp were the only indications that she had noticed the difference.
Confident now, I continued to leave a trail of hot wax followed by a soothing drop of water from the ice cube along her entire torso, focusing on her now rigid nipples and tender breasts. Fascinated, I watched as the wax created miniature sculptures on her erect nipples.
But it was not enough.
I wanted