Chapter 6: Workout

I finished in the kitchen and started the crock-pot. He had apparently prepared a pot roast last night, as well as the fruit salad, and left it uncooked in the fridge. Mmmm, I loved his pot roast. Lastly, I picked up his discarded boxers and went to his room to deposit them in the hamper. They were wet. I couldn't resist; I sucked the wet crotch tasting his pre-cum. God, what has come over me!? I can't believe how horny I am! I dropped them in the hamper and went to look for Master.

I found him in his office, reading something online.

"I've finished, Master"

"Good," he said, as he rose from his desk. Brushing past me he said, "Attend me" with a crook of his finger. I followed him back to his bedroom. "Remove your top, skirt and shoes. Place them on the dresser."

As I stripped, he pulled his weight bench into the center of the room. He then removed his robe and slid into a jock strap. With his back to me he adjusted the straps, framing his ass perfectly. All I could think of was burying my face in those firm globes.

"Sleene, I am going to work out. I want you to spot for me. Do you know what that means?"

"Yes Master." Hey, you don't keep a body like mine at my age without a few trips to the gym.

"Good"

He loaded some weight onto the big bar and then he lay down on the bench to begin a set of bench presses. I hurried over to the bench and moved into position to spot for him. As I straddled his head wearing nothing but garter belt and stockings, I wondered how the view would affect his performance. Glancing down I watched him adjust his suddenly too tight jock. He grasped the bar and lifted it from the forks, bouncing it slightly to set his hands just right. As I prepared to grab the bar if necessary, I was a little nervous. I could see, from the stack of plates on each end, that it was considerably heavier than I've ever lifted. He lowered the bar, briefly touching his chest and then raised it again. "One," I counted, "two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." He stopped and I steadied and guided the bar as he set it back in the forks.

"Very good," he commented, as he rose from the bench. He paced and stretched his arms silently for a few minutes.

"Next set," he said. We resumed our positions and he began the next set.

We went on like that for about an hour. The only time he spoke was when he needed something specific from me, although I'm proud to say I needed very few instructions. He would periodically kiss me or stroke me between sets. I watched him like a hawk the whole time. He was virtually naked; the only things hidden were his cock and balls. As the workout progressed his body began to glisten with sweat. His heavy breathing and his pacing between sets were mesmerizing. His cock was clearly outlined by the elastic fabric of the jock. His grunting and straining near the end of each set was almost too distracting; once I was slow grabbing the bar at the end of the set. He just grinned at me after setting the bar down, then patted my ass. I returned his grin sheepishly. I'm sure I blushed.

He was doing leg curls when I understood his desire to fuck my ass. He was lying on his stomach straining to lift the bar that rested on the back of his calves. His pelvis arched up as he flexed his back and the muscles in his ass clenched. His own coppery rosebud peeked from between his cheeks, damp with sweat. If I had had a cock at that moment I would have fucked him with it. As it was, I had to settle for slipping a finger between his cheeks and across his pucker, as he lay panting at the end of the set.

At the end of the workout all of his muscles were pumped up and looked huge. The veins in his arms and legs were prominent. His whole body gleamed with sweat. His breathing was deep and regular. Needless to say, my own thighs were shiny with moisture, though not with sweat.

"Sleene, get two bottles of water from the fridge."

"Yes Master"

"Sir," he corrected.

"Yes Sir."

When I returned from the kitchen, the bench and weights were back in the corner. I held out the two bottles to him. He took one and gesturing to the other bottle said, "That one's for you."

"Thank you, Sir."

We cracked open the bottles together and took a long pull. I hadn't worked as hard as he had, but panting had made my throat dry.

"Sir, may I speak?" I asked.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Sir, I know that I should call you Sir in non-sexual situation, but under the circumstances, it feels like all situations are sexual. It doesn't matter if I'm sucking your cock or loading the dishwasher; I still get turned on."

"Hmm, I see your point. Very well, you may call me Master at all times."

"Thank you, Master."

He tossed the empty bottle in the waste-paper basket. "Kneel slave," he said, pointing to the floor in front of him.

"Yes Master," I placed my half-finished water on the dresser and eagerly knelt on the thick carpet at his feet.

"Remove my jockstrap."

I peeled the jockstrap from him slowly. His cock and balls were long and relaxed from the workout. He spread his legs slightly as he stepped from the jock.

"Suck my cock, slave."

"Thank you, Master," I said. He chuckled. Taking his swelling cock in my hand I wondered if, in the future, his chuckle would always turn me on. Fucking Pavlov.

I took him as deep as I could, then sealed my lips as I drew him from my mouth, sucking firmly to encourage his stiffening penis. I repeated this a few times and then began to bob my head on his now rock-hard staff. I gripped his ass with both hands and moaned around his cock; the image of his up-thrust ass as he did leg-curls filled my mind. I repeatedly impaled my mouth on him, trying to take him as deep as I could. He groaned and began to thrust himself into my face. I reached down with one hand and began circling my clit as I sucked him. I buried the fingers of my free hand between his cheeks, and stroked, and gently probed his sweat slick pucker. He gripped my head in both hands and roared. With short deep thrusts of his pulsing cock, he filled my mouth with hot cum. As his muscles relaxed and his grip turned to stroking on my head, I swallowed. I gently nursed his shrinking member, careful to avoid the sensitive tip with my tongue. He pulled his cock from my mouth and I sat back on my heels, one hand still cupping the firm roundness of his cheek. My breathing was deep and even as I came out of it, one finger still gently circling my erect clitoris.

He gripped me by the upper arm and hauled me quickly to me feet. Slapping my ass with a resounding smack, he said sternly "Didn't I tell you not to masturbate without my permission."

"Yes Master! I'm sorry Master!"

"Did you cum?"

"No Master," I said, feeling the heat rise in my bottom from where his hand had landed.

"Good. See that it doesn't happen again."

"Yes Master"

He wiped my inner thigh at my stocking tops. I could feel the slick wetness from my dripping pussy. With no fur on my slit to sponge up the moisture, it seemed I was always slippery there.

"Slave, put my jock in the hamper. I suggest you put those wet stockings there, too," he said, unsnapping the back of my garter belt.

"You have five minutes for yourself, then start the shower for me."

"Yes Master"

He strode from the room naked. I paused to watch his firm ass flex as he walked.

I unclipped the garters and placed the belt on the dresser. Retrieving my water bottle I drained it, and tossed it. I then removed the stockings and, picking them up with the jockstrap, headed for the bathroom. I closed the door and locked it without thinking. I dropped the clothes in the hamper and turning, glanced at my butt in the mirror. I could clearly see the imprint of four fingers, held together, on my bottom. I realized that he had merely swatted me with the pads of his fingers. In my minds eye I could see his broad shoulders, his powerful chest, and his strong arms. I shuddered to think what a real spanking from him would feel like. Strangely, the shudder was as much anticipation, as it was of dread, I think. I heard Master try the door. I reached over and turned the knob, unlocking it.

"Don't ever lock the door on me again," he said, handing me a glass of white wine.

"Yes Master. Sorry Master, it was force-of-habit," I stated. He nodded once and then left.