Chapter 8: Saturday Evening

I awoke curled in a fetal position snuggled under Ken's arm. I felt warm and safe. It felt so good that I remained motionless. I wanted to stay like this forever. Opening my eyes I saw that Ken was sitting up reading one-handed, his other arm wrapped protectively around me, his hand resting comfortably on my hip. He was above the covers and wearing his robe. He hadn't noticed that I was awake yet. The room was dim except for the circle of light cast by his bedside lamp. There was still light visible around the shades in the window. "It must be evening," I thought.

Ken lifted his hand from my hip to turn the page. I rolled to my back and groaning, stretched luxuriously.

"Hey Sweetie," Ken greeted me.

"Mmmm, Hi. How long did I sleep?"

"About two hours," he stated. Ken placed a bookmark and then set the book on his bedside table. Scootching down, he leaned over me and took me in his arms. We kissed softly for a long time. Rising from me, he propped himself up, leaning on his elbow.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Wonderful Master" I replied with feeling.

"Kathy, let's put the game on hold for a bit, okay? How's your bottom feel?"

Rolling toward his slightly, I traced my hand over my butt while taking a mental inventory. "Huh. Fine actually. It doesn't hurt at all. What did you put on it?"

"This," he said, handing me a bottle from the bedside table. "It's a topical analgesic they sell for sunburn. It's got lidocaine and Aloe Vera in it."

"Well it works. I thought I wouldn't be able to sit for a week!"

"Let me see," he asked, pulling back the bedspread.

I rolled to my belly. I tried to see my butt too, but couldn't get a good look at it. He leaned over me and ran his hand over me. "Well," he said, "it's still pink, but there's no bruising or handprints."

"Really?" I asked, trying to get a better look. "God, it felt like you were turning my ass into hamburger!"

"No. I actually didn't hit you that hard. It's more the way you do it," he explained. "You kind of bounce the whole flat of your hand off of the surface at an angle."

"So you've done this before?"

"No, I looked it up online and practiced on my leg."

"Huh," I paused. "You did a lot of preparation for this weekend, didn't you?"

"Yeah, a bit," he said, smiling. "I wanted it go well. I've been thinking about trying this for a long time. Look seriously, how are you feeling about what's happened so far?"

"I'm really fine. Actually, I think I'm more in love with you than ever. I never expected that this would involve so much caring and consideration on your part. I kind of expected that it would be only about using my body, but it's been much more than that."

"I love you, Kathy, and I couldn't ever just 'use your body.'" He said, hugging me. "I like fucking with your mind too much," he laughingly added.

I punched his arm playfully.

"So, do you want to continue?" he asked.

"Are you going to want to do more pain? I'm pretty sure that I don't want to go any further with that."

"No, the serious S&M stuff turns me off. It's too dark and negative."

"Good. I'm fine with the spanking, and I would like to do it again, especially with you inside me, but I don't want it to become a big part of our sex life."

"Yeah, I enjoyed it too, and I came like crazy, but I don't want to get into the whole black leather hood thing," he stated.

"You came? I've never cum so hard in my life, not even close, but I didn't feel you cum."

"Ohhhh yeah," he said, smiling. "With you pumping your wet thighs and pussy up and down my cock like that? You bet I came. Hard!"

I smiled and squeezed him to me. Then thoughtfully, "I'm a little worried though. I came so hard! I'm wondering if I'm a masochist or something."

"I don't think so," he replied. "I think it has to do with cumming while your brain is full of endorphins. Actually, that's another reason why I don't want to get any more into it. I don't want you to become addicted to it and become a masochist. Then just regular sex might become boring."

"Sex with you would never be boring," I assured him.

"Oh yeah? What if you had that kind of endorphin pumped orgasm all the time?"

"God! I think I'd die!"

"Yeah well, that has been known to happen, too. And a lot of people have been accidentally choked to death. Look, I liked what happened, but I want to keep our relationship about two people who love each other."

"Me too," I said, squeezing him. "I love you so much."

"Me too, Sweetie," he replied and then we quietly hugged for a while.

"Well, do you want to continue playing; or do you want to stop now?" he asked. "Or we could just take a break."

"Let's keep playing," I replied, "but I need to use the bathroom."

"Very well then, Sleene. Dinner's ready. Take a few minutes and then come into the kitchen."

"Yes Master," I replied, slipping back into my role.

I went into the bathroom and checked my tush in the mirror. It looked fine. Actually, It looked kind of cute with a rosy blush to it. I sat gingerly on the toilet, expecting some pain, but it didn't feel any different.

I was sitting there nude, pooping, with my hair mussed from sleep, when Master entered the bathroom with a white negligee and a pair of white high-heeled slippers. He hung the gown on the hook and set the slippers on the floor. Smiling with mirth, he looked me in the eyes, blew me a kiss, and deliberately flipped on the exhaust fan as he left. I was mortified. Shaking my head I wanted to slug him. Here I am taking a smelly crap, so he blows me a kiss and makes a joke. Loving me and accepting me at my absolutely most unglamorous. The fink!

I cleaned up, washing my bottom thoroughly. If I knew Master, I was going to be getting some attention back there. Hmm, maybe not. I then fixed my face and hair and refreshed my perfume.

I slipped into the negligee. It was floor length, with a scooped lacy neckline and an open back. It was slit front and back to nearly the crotch. The lace edging around the slits seemed to point at my sex. It was very sheer. The slippers made my feet look dainty and accented my red toenails.

I walked to the kitchen using my best model walk, trying to feel seductive. That's hard to pull off after your lover catches you taking a dump, let me tell you!

When I entered the kitchen Master was standing by the table, pouring red wine. Oh my! He was wearing a black fishnet tank top and matching briefs. His ass looked scrumptious. He turned to me, revealing that the front was as sheer as the back, holding his arms wide he asked, "Well? You like?"

"Oh yeah," I growled.

Chuckling he said, "Well let's eat first." He set the wine down and then held my chair for me. I noticed that he had placed a cushion on the chair and I smiled at him appreciatively. The table was set with a platter of steaming pot roast, a salad and a basket of sliced French bread. At the sight of the food, my stomach suddenly felt empty. We both dug in with gusto. I guess we must have burned a few calories that afternoon. We talked normally while we ate, Master doesn't seem to like to play games while engaging in the serious business of eating.

We sat for a while talking about work, I think, while sipping wine and nibbling on gravy soaked bread. I finished my wine and Master held out the bottle with a raised eyebrow. I nodded, as I swallowed and wiped my mouth, and he poured the last of the bottle into my glass. Rising he drained his glass and said "You clean up in here and then join me in the living room."

"Yes Master," I replied, caressing his package as he leaned over to kiss me.

I put away the minimal leftovers, careful not to get any gravy on my negligee. I loaded the dishwasher and started it. I washed out the crock-pot and set it in the dish drain and then went out to the living room. Master was propped on the end of the couch.

"Sleene, In honor of you I think I'll have a nice Irish whiskey. Go to my liquor cabinet and pour me two fingers of Black Bush."

I laughed teasingly, "So Master likes my black bush?"

"Yes, I do slave. And your milky white Irish skin."

"Thank you, Master. I am glad it pleases you," somewhat surprised by how much I meant it.

I brought him his drink, "Here you are, Master."

Taking the glass, he scooted to the back of the couch and patted the cushion in front of him. I stepped from my slippers and joined him on the couch, reclining against his chest.

We sat there sipping our drinks (I still had most of a glass of wine left), while the stereo cycled through a selection of blues. We cuddled and kissed and stroked each other languidly, digesting our meal.

By the time the second CD clicked on we were necking passionately. Master had his hand inside the top of my negligee and was massaging my breast. His mouth was hungrily kissing, licking, and nibbling my neck and ear. I held his hand to my breast and ground my ass against his cock. He set his glass down, mine long since abandoned in favor of holding his butt, and then he pinched the fabric of the gown at my hip.

"Up," he whispered into my ear.

I lifted my hip and he slid the negligee up, the slits now exposing my sex, front and back. Reaching down he levered his hard-on from his briefs and slid it easily between my wet thighs. His lips sucked my earlobe and his hand brushed and rolled my nipple. My arm was still draped over us as I fondled his ass, my hand now inside the back of his fishnet briefs. He reached over my arm to capture the head of his cock where it poked from between my thighs. He held his staff pressed against my swollen lips with his fingertips, the heel of his hand grinding my mons. We thrust against each other. The stimulation rapidly moved me higher.

I was panting and moaning, when he angled the head of his cock into me. "Oh fuck yeah, baby!" I moaned. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck your slave!" I said, gasping and writhing on his thick intrusion. Just as Aretha Franklin began crooning "I Never Loved A Man," his hand moved to grip the soft flesh of my belly and he began to thrust into me forcefully. The halting refrain "I ain't never loved a man, the way that I, I love you" resonated in me.

His feet were planted on the arm of the couch and he used the leverage to pound himself deeply into me. I pulled up my knees and arched my back, greedily accepting his onslaught. His long powerful strokes impaling me over and over. The crown of his shaft ground my G-spot on each inward stroke.

His strong arms crushed me to him, seemingly trying to imbed his whole body into me as deeply as his cock. He rode me with his entire body. Our lovemaking was not merely a thing of loins, but of our whole selves. We writhed against each other.

The song ended. I turned my head to kiss him and reached back to grab his head, my fingers gripping his hair. I extended my legs again and threw one behind him, hooking my heel behind his thigh, using it to pound my hips back into his. Meeting him thrust for thrust.

I began to cum, not a hard clitoral orgasm, but a deeply satisfying vaginal one. Waves of pleasure rippled through my belly to wrap themselves around my soul as the refrain repeated itself in my skull. I ground out my orgasm on his thick manhood, sucking his tongue, tasting the warm muskiness of the whisky. A long, deep, multi-crested, gut wrenching orgasm took me and left me floating in a whirl of sensation and love.

I released his hair and sagged against him. The last three words of the refrain rolling over and over again through my psyche in Aretha's low moaning voice. I melted in contented bliss, in the arms of my lover ... my master.

"I love you," Ba-da, dahhh. "I love you," Ba-da, dahhh. "I love you," Ba-da, dahhh...

Now I know why the French call it "La Petite Mort." As I slowly regained my focus I felt his arms about me. Master was holding me and softly kissing my neck, as he stroked his erection slowly in my still quivering center. I wriggled my bottom as I snuggled back into his arms and let a contented sigh escape my lips. We stayed like that for a year or two, just being together and joined. Master stroked into me just enough to keep his erection, while we exchanged tender kisses and murmurs, no words.

His gentle strokes and loving nibbles finally began to get to me and I squeezed his cock with my internal muscles as he bottomed out on the end of his stroke. Releasing him I began to rock my hips in counterpoint to his lazy thrusts. I knew he hadn't cum and I so wanted to give the same intense pleasure that he had just given me. My love for him felt boundless and I needed to express it to him in the most basic way a woman can.

Our lazy rhythm established itself. To please him as much as I could, I gripped his cock on the bottom of his thrust again, only this time I held the tension as he withdrew from me. At the top of the stroke I released him and tried to open myself as much as possible letting him slid into me effortlessly. I then gripped him and repeated the cycle. My gripping and releasing timed to coincide with the rocking of my hips. I made love to his beautiful cock with my pussy. Gripping, stroking and opening; trying to give him the most powerful orgasm I could. No thought to my own pleasure; my sole endeavor was to pleasure my Master. Inevitably the intensity of my feelings and the sheer beauty of our actions began to raise me on another crest of orgasm. I fought it a little, stubbornly wanting this to be for his pleasure alone.

He caught my hip with his strong hand and stilled our motions. At first I thought that perhaps his orgasm had begun, but it didn't feel right. I turned my face to him to see if he was cumming. His eyes were closed and, as he released a deep breath with a sigh, I saw the tension leave his face. I was confused. Had he had a small orgasm; or had he stopped himself? I hoped that he hadn't cum yet. I wanted to give him an intense orgasm. When his eyes opened I looked at him questioningly, searching his eyes.

"Not yet, slave," he smiled. "Into the bedroom, it is time for me to take your last virginity."

Apprehension at that statement warred with my desire to pleasure him, but surprisingly my strongest feelings were of anticipation and excitement. I felt on an instinctive level that submitting to him in this way; letting him take my ass, would forever bind me to him. And I so wanted that. I was afraid that it would hurt, but I wanted to be claimed by him.

"Oh yes please, Master"

He began to withdraw himself from me and my cunt clasped onto his retreating member. My body reluctant to give it up.

As we stood from the couch, he straightened his briefs and said, "Sleene, give me your negligee and put on your slippers. I want to watch your ass as you walk."

Smiling, I pulled the neck of the white garment over my head and then stepped out of it. Handing the negligee to him I slipped on the white slippers and then began walking towards the bedroom, adding a swish to my bottom. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that my walk was having the desired effect. He was intent on my ass as he held the negligee to his face, inhaling deeply the scent of my sex and perfume.

I walked to the bed and turned to him. He dropped the negligee on the dresser. "Wait," he said and stepped into the bathroom. He returned with a bottle of lubricant and a hand-towel. He set them on the bed and said, "Strip me, slave." I went to him and pulled the mesh tank top over his head, tossing it onto the growing pile of sexy clothes on his dresser. The garter-belt slid to the floor. I knelt and slid the briefs down his legs. I leaned in to him and licked the head of his still moist cock, tasting our combined juices. Unable to resist, I took him into my mouth as deeply as I could and sucked him firmly as I drew my head back. Letting him fall from my mouth, I smiled at him. Then I stood and added the briefs to the pile.

"Lie on the bed with your ass near the edge."

"On my back, Master?"

"Yes, slave, on your back. We have to get you ready first."

"Yes Master," I replied. Relieved, yet not surprised, by his consideration. Again.

I laid back on the bed and Master knee-walked over to me, facing my shoulder. He handed me the lube and towel. Reaching, he took my knees in his hands and pulled them back, rocking my hips upward and exposing my anus.

"I will watch as you prepare yourself," he said. "Lubricate your finger and slip it into your ass."

"Yes Master"

I popped the top of the bottle and set about the task of preparing myself for my anal deflowering. Master spread his knees slightly, lowering his hard cock nearer to my face. His gaze was fixed on my hands as I poured a generous portion onto my first two fingers. I reached and began to spread the cool gel around my rosebud. Master's eyes followed my actions intently. I saw his cock twitch as I started to massage the lubricant into my back passage. I refreshed the supply on my fingers and then began to slide them into myself. My middle finger leading the way, quickly followed by its partner, opening me further.

I glanced over at his cock, a drop of pre-cum dangled from its tip. While slowly stroking my fingers in and out, I leaned over and captured the drop in my mouth. Master must have noticed my movement, because when I looked up our eyes met. He smiled, and turning, knelt over my head facing my busy fingers. I was now staring up at the underside of his cock, balls, and anus.