He lay beside he beside her, the fire warming her pale skin. He slowly stroked his hand across her skin, savoring the sight of her body stretched there before him, her entirety bared to his eyes and his hands.
She slept soundly, the exertion from earlier weighing heavily on her, her body taxed. She roused only a little when he teased the tips of her reddened, tender nipples. He smiles, leaving them alone, returning to gently caressing her.
He can still smell her scent from their love making earlier that evening. He knew that they should move to the bed, that he needed his rest as much as she did but the events of the week, the day had caught up with him and he needed some time to wind down.
He bent down and kissed the gentle curve of her neck, tasting the sheen of sweat that had gathered there, drawn from the heat of their earlier exertion and from the heat of the fire. He tasted her, savoring her flavor, her taste still evoking a certain rush from him.
He sighed, lying there propped up on one elbow, looking over her and into the fire, watching the flickering of the flames, the shadows dancing as his mind replayed the events of the day.
It had been a terrible day, simply anything that could go wrong, did go wrong. It simply hadn't let up all day. Finally five o'clock had come and he had left the office, leaving several things to do in the morning.
She had been kneeling, completely nude, when he walked into the house. When he saw her, he forgot it all. The troubles, the worries had simply disappeared. The site of her before him, on her knees, arms held tight behind her back, head held high, eyes down cast, her long auburn hair pulled tight into a neat tail at the back of her head. Her breasts, pale with dark nipples, rose and fell with each breath she took, breast thrust out by the arch of her back, accentuated by the pull of her arms held behind her back.
Her knees were spread at just the right angle, not obscenely, not hiding anything. Her cleanly shaven sex, aroused, open, and her smooth thighs accentuated them, leading the way to the treasures that she held.
It was only after he had stood there for a minute, maybe longer as time had simply ceased, that he realized the house was filled with the aroma of a wonderful dinner that she had prepared for him. The warm aroma of burgundy beef permeated his senses and he took a deep breath to drink it in.
He smiled softly, perhaps the first smile that had crossed his face all day. He stepped towards her, gently caressing her face and hair, feeling her relax and melt into his hand.
She had then moved to remove his shoes, gently caressing his tired feet as she removed his shoes. She then gently massaged up the back of his legs and back, reaching gently around and undoing the buttons on his shirt, slipping from his shoulders, then quickly carrying them off to the laundry.
He moved to the dining room and just as he had expected, his chair was pulled back from the table, a glass of fine cabernet poured and waiting for him. He took a seat just as she returned and knelt beside him, her eyes watching his every movement. He reached out to caress her face again, feeling her press softly into his hand, running his fingers through her hair, playing softly with the tail of hair pulled behind her.
When he had sipped a little of his wine, he nodded to her, watching her supple form moving gracefully from his side to the kitchen. He took another sip of wine, listening to the soft sounds of her finishing preparations for dinner. In a moment, she returned with a dish of sautéed mushrooms, setting them before him, and kneeling by his side again. Reaching up, she took a mushroom with her fingers and offered it to him, placing it gently in his mouth. He playfully nipped at her fingers as he took the mushroom.
He nodded to her and she took one for herself, quickly placing it in her mouth and chewing it. He watched her, thinking that she was lovely and sexy even as she ate. He nodded to her again, letting her take another for herself before letting her feed the rest to him.
When the burgundy mushrooms were gone she let him suckle the remains from her fingers, knowing that he loved to nibble them just to the point it was torture for her to continue to hold them still, and yet, she loved it just as much as he did. He then reached down and ran his finger along her slit, gathering her flavor and bringing it to his lips, licking it from the tip of his finger, then letting her suckle his finger, cleaning her juices from it.
A small sigh escaped his lips as he relaxed further. Gathering the serving dish, she returned to the kitchen while he sat and sipped the rest of the glass of wine. She served up two bowls of burgundy, tearing a serving of bread from the fresh loaf she had baked earlier that day, and hoped desperately that he enjoyed the meal.
Gracefully she carried the two bowls into the room, sitting one in front of him, and the other just to his right side, kneeling beside him again. When he smiled at her, she took a spoon and dipped it into the bowl, sipping a first bite, then offering a second bite to him. Through the evening she slowly fed him, occasionally taking a bite from her bowl.
As she fed him, he watched her, savoring the sight of her, his hands wandering over her. As she would lean to reach for her bowl, he would caress her hip and thigh, then returning to her back and side, cupping her breasts from time to time, teasing a nipple, pinching it occasionally.
He was careful not to touch or tease her sex, though he could feel the heat radiating from it, noting that her sex was becoming more aroused and swollen as the evening progressed. Instead, he simply continued to caress her soft skin, admiring her delicate features, twirling her hair.
As the meal progressed, she continued to serve him in silence, the sounds only of her breathing, moving to feed him. The scent of her arousal grew in the air, mingling with the rich smell of the burgundy beef and the rich red wine. Soon enough the food was gone, despite seconds by both of them, and then it was time for dessert.
He reached for her, pulling her to him after she had cleaned the bowl they had shared with a small piece of bread. He bent and kissed her, long and deep, tongue exploring her mouth, pulling and lifting her as he kissed her, lifting her up onto the table and gently laying her back.
Kissing softly, her chin, then the side of her neck, down onto her chest, between her breasts, lifting a glass of wine and pouring a few drops onto her cleavage, then drinking it from her skin, tongue teasing, tormenting her. His face brushed against her breasts, and occasionally her nipples that were hard and swollen with her need.
Moving downward, he continued his kissing and exploring of her flesh, placing a soft kiss just beneath each breast, the down across her stomach, admiring the soft curves of her femininity, teasing her navel with his tongue, then down towards her soft sex. As her reached the top of her sex, her legs splayed wide, her pelvis arched up to meet his kisses, moving of a mind of their own, her desire to please him, to give herself fully to him most evident.
Sitting back in his chair, he watched her their for a moment, time frozen, meaningless, the hectic day lost forever in this moment, peace and contentment washing through them, through him, watching nothing more than the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the small tremors that ran through her body, inhaling her scent, her arousal, the sweet smell of her. He sighed at that moment, a soft smile, and then, leaning forward, began his dessert.
He flicked the tip of his tongue over her sex, finding her slit, running down then back up her slit, finding her clit and teasing it, flicking it roughly with his tongue. He pressed down and grazing it with his teeth, sucking it into his mouth and softly nibbling on it, feeling her response. Holding it between his teeth, he flicked his tongue back and forth over the tip, driving her to a struggle of will, struggling to hold her position, to push forward or pull away, wanting more, wanting the torment to stop all at the same time, her desire to please him overriding it all. Small tremors running through her body despite her best efforts and still he tormented her clit, biting on it a bit harder as the intensity of the spasms that rocked through her grew.
She screamed out in agony and pleasures then, the sound piercing through his soul, pleasing in its primal need. He began to pull on her clit with his teeth, her back arching up, trying to relieve the strain, then easing slightly and letting it scrape through his teeth and releasing it.
The moan that escaped her lips just then was a beautiful sound, as rich in meaning and intensity as a symphony. He was reminded of the words of his mentor just then, "A woman is like a fine violin, anyone can make noise, but only a master can play her to make wonderful music." He loved her music, her instrument, and after a pause, like the break between scores in a concert, he reached to spread the lips of her sex, thumbs spreading her, opening her sex to his eyes, watching the drop of her nectar that had gathered at the opening to her fall, running down and onto the tablecloth.
He bent and ran his tongue along the delicate skin below her sex, tracing up over her sex, tasting her, drinking her, then dipping into her well, tracing the rim of her cunt, running around it with his tongue, then plunging into her, forcing his tongue as deep into her as he could push it, thrusting it into her, then pumping into her again and again, feeling her rise to meet this pressure, needing it, needing more.
More moans escaped her lips as she writhed beneath him and just as they were starting to crescendo, he withdrew, still holding her leg apart. He slowly ran his tongue from the tender area just below her cunt, up through her slit, over her clit and then over her mons, her stomach, her cleavage, her neck and then kissing her. As he did, he reached slowly for the nearest candle, breaking the kiss as he removed the candle from the candelabra.
A sly grin escaped as he slowly stood, looking down at her, her hands grasping the edges of the table, her chest heaving with her ragged breath. A fine sheen of sweat covered her body, glistening in the soft light. A fine tremor ran through her body when her eyes parted and saw him standing above her, the candle flickering in the quiet air.
He bent and kissed her again, quietly, softly, a soft brush across her lips. Then taking the candle, he tilted it slightly, a drop of wax beginning to form along the top edge of the candle. Moving it slowly back and forth over her lower face, they both watched the drop of wax grow, watching it start to fall from the taper. The moment slowed in time, their breathing slowing, stopped, held there in the instant.
He moved the candle just a fraction, a slight adjustment, and the first drop of wax slowly cut through the air, landing on her chin. A gasp escaped her, as time again returned to normal, the searing heat slowly becoming a familiar warm glow, the gasp turning into a soft moan.
Mesmerized, he watched her, the sensations adding to her need and desire, the pleasure rushing through her body. The next drop was already formed, and he positioned it so that the next drop fell on the tender skin just below her thin black leather collar. He tipped the candle a bit further, letting the wax melt more quickly, dropping and filling the sternal notch, the soft indentation of tender skin between the neck and chest.
Each drop sent a shudder, a spasm, through her body. He felt each one as he leaned over her, feeling as much as hearing each gasp as it slowly turned into a moan. A soft sigh of intense pleasure escaped his own lips, joining the sounds of his slave as they filled the air.
The next few drops of wax fell between her breasts, each adding to the intensity of the burn, each one slowly fading, only to be replaced by the next sting and burn of a new drop forming, falling, molding to her skin.
He coated the gentle curve between her breasts, letting a few stray drops fall on the tender skin of each breasts, varying the pattern, never letting her know where the next will fall. Her eyes were closed as she simply let the sensations flow through her, letting him use her, letting the pleasure raise her to new heights where there was no him or her, here or there, then or now. In this place there was nothing and everything, melded as one.
Then he knew that she was there. He let a final drop of wax fall onto the top edge of her slit, having left a trail of wax across her abdomen. A final gasp, nearly a scream, arose from within her, cried out, piercing the air, cutting through the soul. He snuffed the candle with his fingers, feeling the heat just as she did, watching her as he dropped his pants.
He entered her, placing his cock at the entrance to her and sliding slowly into her, one smooth motion. He felt her spasm down around his cock, feeling the orgasm rock through her, hearing her scream, savoring the feel of her hot and tight, gripping him and holding him.
She writhed on the table, a glass of water flying off the table, spilling onto the floor, the glass breaking. Lost in the throes of her passion she knew nothing, knew not that he was stroking slowly in and out of her, rolling her nipples between his fingers, that he was slowly building towards his own release.
Only the feel of him exploding inside of her, making her orgasm rise again to sweep over her, awakened a distant part of her. He drove deep into her, planting his seed in her, she grasping him tightly with her sex, milking him with her cunt. His groans were music to her ears, his gasping and breathing matching the ragged breaths that she drew in between the spasm that continued to ravage her body.
He collapsed on top of her, holding her tightly, her arms slowly moving up and holding him, gently caressing his back, fingers raking over his skin softly, raising chills across his skin. She continued to milk his cock, prolonging his orgasm, making him shudder involuntarily.
Then he raised himself up on his arms, looking into her eyes, whispering, "I love you." Bending down to kiss her softly, pulling her up and into his lap, holding her there until their breathing returned to normal.
A chill started to come over him, she sensed it and whispered softly, "Shall I get your robe Master?"
He nodded and felt her slip from his lap, his eyes closed, savoring the feel of the moment, the relaxation comforting him. He felt her soft touch return, slipping the silk rode about his shoulders, caressing him gently through the soft fabric.