Saturday morning -- the best part of any week and the girl is still sleeping. Never an early riser, the one aspect of her training that has never taken is for her to wake first. I forgive her this because she has otherwise responded so eagerly to everything else I’ve demanded and because I love her but forgiveness does not evade consequences and she is reminded of this flaw on a regular basis. She lays on her stomach, arms tucked under the pillow and face beneath a tangle of hair turned towards me. I draw the sheet back, all the way down the length of her body and her skin glows softly in the light streaming through the window.
She is nude, as she has been since I came home from work yesterday and as she will be until I decide otherwise and I admire my handiwork: the long lines of her legs, firm ass, toned shoulders and back, the smooth even tan. She is beautiful but dismissive when I tell her so – “You see me with special eyes,” is her usual response. But she learned long ago to accept my opinion as the only one that matters and dutifully swims, goes to yoga and has (mostly) discarded her smoking and Krispy Kreme habit. I am quite proud of her.
Her skin feels good beneath my palm as I trace the soft velvet curves and her ass moves against me. I love the cool flat of her back where sweat gathers when I am fucking her and the delicate arch of the trapezius between her shoulders and neck. I kiss here first then bite gently on my to her neck where I breathe in her scent and feel myself respond, growing hard against her hip.
She is more awake now and moans softly, one hand coming up behind her to slide through my hair, gripping tightly. I nuzzle her neck, kissing and biting, then capture her wrist and flip her over bringing both wrists up above her head and pinning them to the mattress and at this she moans out loud and before the maneuver is even complete she has spread her legs wide, inviting, pleading. I gaze down at her: her half-lidded eyes, hard-tipped tits, the swell of her hips beneath her flat belly. I can smell her already; she has been on restriction since last Sunday and for a girl who used to masturbate in her car on her lunch break to relieve her tension she has felt every one of the past five days. I squeeze her tits and she arches against me and when I roll a nipple between my fingers she cries out loud.
Now her eyes are open, cloudy with need.
“Please, Master . . . “ she breathes.
I roll away from her onto my back pulling her over with me, directing her hand to where I want it to go. She sits up, straddling my leg so that I can feel her wet against me and lowers her mouth to my waiting cock. I lean back and watch her serve me. Her hair spills across my belly and she grips the shaft with one hand while her head bobs up and down, making a soft mewling noise with every stroke as if she were being fucked. The orgasm she gives me is as close as she’s going to get to an orgasm today and she knows it. If I am happy with her this weekend she’ll get to cum for me tomorrow night. If I am happy.
I live for these weekends when the days are scrubbed clean of mundane demands and for two days we do not have to compromise who and what we are. If I want her nude and collared all day and night, so she shall be. I don’t have to share her in any way with jobs, chores, errands and even in our interactions with the outside world I set all of the terms. Some of my vanilla friends know her as my leggy girlfriend who never wears a bra and I take perverse pleasure in that; for these two days, she is all mine in every conceivable.
As she sucks and grinds against me with increasing desperation I think about what I have planned for today – a trip to the nude beach and then dinner out – and what she will wear or not wear, where we will go what we do. A vision flashes before me: we are at dinner tonight on South Beach and she is a in a wispy dress that clings to her curves and highlights the color of her eyes, hair tumbling softly to her sun-kissed shoulders. She looks at me across the table and I see the slight furrow in her brow and the seeing-not-seeing stare that means she is in a desire-fuelled haze of submission and I know that she belongs completely and unreservedly to me.
I cum instantly and hard, hands tangled in her hair.
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