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When her sensibility finally catches up with her, I’m between her parted thighs, toying with her quivering vulva, poking a finger in the wetness there. I rub lightly, then feel deep spasms coming from her. She can’t move but hardly an inch, and the climax rises fasts and bursts over the edge into pleasure. Her head thrashes back, and for a time, her pink bruised tits jiggle heavily, and her groin expanding and contacting until the sensation finally dies away.
Delia’s body drapes me languidly as we move to the bed. She’s inside my arms, so pliant I think she might just melt.
“I love you Heinrich,” she whispers repeatedly in my ear as we move together. I find the warm wet froth of her cunt as welcoming as her arms.
My body presses into hers as she welcomes me.
“Please, my love, never leave me.”
“I have no plans to change a thing,” I assure her.
Sometimes it feels as though all I do is whisper words to calm her fears and keep her pacified.
Chapter Twelve
I enter Lockhart’s brown-shingle relic quaking. The rest of my life is finally beginning. After all these months of waiting, after all this tense anticipation, I worry that I’ll find him less than my mind imagines. I wait in the living room for some minutes before he addresses me. He’s busy on the phone, arguing over the price of something rare—though I have no idea exactly what he’s talking about. It sounds as though he’s haggling over the price of flesh—slave flesh. I wonder if he’s a trader in the black-market. Though if he is, there’s been no sign of it in my previous trips to his house. Then too, those were both too brief to know the truth about how this master lives. If he is as Bernard says—one of the very best and worst, then his involvement in underground activities doesn’t stretch the imagination.
“On your knees, slave!”
Lockhart’s voice awakens me from my reverie as it thunders loudly in my ear. Scrambling to comply with the order, I take the floor in seconds, shoulders and face to the carpet, hands behind me, ass raised. “Why are you wearing clothes?” he barks.
“I …” I start to explain.
“Take them off!”
I rush to undress, thankful there’s just a skirt and sweater to remove. I assume he’ll want me in bra and stockings.”
“Everything, bitch,” he orders. I was wrong.
Quickly removing my underwear, while gazing at a maestro’s baton in the master’s hand. He clutches it with a mean grasp, fingers flexing and tensing as though he plans to use it soon.
“Where’s your collar?” he asks.
“I have none,” I speak quietly.
“So true,” he mocks me. He throws me the requested item, which I immediately grab in my hand. “Before you arrive here, put it on and don’t dare enter this house without it. Unless I instruct you otherwise, you’ll strip naked but for this leather and kneel here on the carpet to await your instructions. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
He waltzes to my side, sits in a chair above me, pressing his boot to my head as though it’s become a footstool. My ass waits for the feel of the baton, which I’m sure will swipe at the fleshy orbs.
“You don’t speak unless I ask you to speak. You eat nothing unless I give it to you. In this house, you are nothing. You have no identity, no will of your own, no life, but what I give you. You have no name, but slave. I am your master and you will serve me. You will learn your trade, slave. If this is your true calling, we will find out soon, for you will fall in love with me. If it is not, you’ll soon hate everything about me and walk out.”
Lockhart removes his boot from the back of my neck, and reaching down, he clamps a one-foot leash to my collar. With it, he pulls me to my knees between his thighs.
“Find my prick and give me head.”
Because I tremble so, I fail to obey fast enough.
“Relax, slut, or you will be perpetually punished,” he spits out while staring into my eyes. His are no longer mild.
Before I can hurriedly right my wrong, he pulls me over his lap and with the baton lays several dozen cuts across my ass. I gasp as the biting pain bursts through my body, but everything happens so quickly, I don’t have time to do anything but relinquish. Pushing me back to the floor, he has me continue with his original demand.
I fumble less, opening the fly of his trousers pulling free the erection that will be the object of my pleasure. His sprouts with fullness, little need for me to enlarge this proud one. Yet, as my mouth goes over his purple head, I see the whole thing rise more boldly, the six inches swell another one or two—yet, I can’t truly evaluate the size, or even the shape. Lockhart’s hand is at the back of my neck, forcing my face downward. I smell his damp and musky groin, relishing the pungent fragrance. The taste of my master becomes pleasurable—and I know I’ll soon long for it. I give him what he demands, working hard so he will reach his satisfaction.
Soon, his hand is backing off its force, his fingers tangling inside my hair which is now a full five inches long since he ordered me to let it grow. More freedom to work his prick, I taste it from its fragrant base to the smooth skin of the head, running my tongue along the rim and around the top. He makes no sound and I don’t dare look up to see if what I do pleases him. I have only his responding body to know how much he enjoys what I do. The man I thought to be mild and gentle has suddenly consumed me in the heat of his commanding aura. His size looms fiercely above me. I become small and cared for, but infinitely humble as I surrender.
As his cum shoots down my throat, I gulp the thick substance, enjoying this first taste of him and relishing his potency. He pushes my head from his crotch while there is still cum on my cheeks, and I sit back humbly waiting for more.
