Phaedra Torres - Digressions Into Erotica

“You’ve made me so happy, my pet.” With that, he hastened his pace, grunting softly in her ear until he climaxed and collapsed on top of her.

Mariah cried quietly, the cloth over her eyes soaking up her tears. What have I done?

***

She woke to his gentle hands. He hushed her, and quieted her tremors with a soft, warm blanket that he folded around her battered frame.

“You are my pet, yes?”

She nodded and stroked her cheek against his shoulder.

Taking her hand, he held her palm upright and wrapped her fingers around a thick, leather strap that jangled while she explored it with her fingers.

“Do you choose this of your own free will, pet?” She nodded again and mewled through her gag.

“Then go on, pet. Put it on. Clasp it tight.” She did as instructed, squeezed the cool metal of the lock and it clicked into place.

“I’ll hold the keys, pet. I’ll hold them dear, as I hold you. But know that they are yours for the asking. Though I would give them with a heavy heart.”

***

When she woke again, she was lying in a bed, right arm cuffed to the opposite post so as to keep her on her side. Her collar was likewise latched to a slender chain, which in turn attached to an eyehook in the headboard. She had reached a new level of reward.

She stretched her legs, savoring the freedom of movement, scissoring them between the sheets and wiggling her toes.

She opened her eyes and drank in the natural light coming from a long narrow window set high in the wall.

She heard him coming and snapped her eyes shut, but couldn’t still her legs before he opened the door.

“Good morning, precious. Did my little one sleep well? Hmm? Nice and comfy?” She whined happily, yearning for him to cross the room and join her. “Today, pet, we graduate to a new level.” The mattress sagged under his weight.

“To me, pet,” and she obediently moved toward him and felt along his legs until she rested her cheek on his thigh. Stroking her back, he told her of his new expectations: new levels of responsibility, and with these, more mobility.

She tensed at the idea of free roam. Just the thought of being without the security of her tiny space, even this new room, was almost more than she could bear, and she whimpered pitiably.

“What is it, pet? Are you not ready for your new station? It is a place of pride, and I want you there, precious. I want you by my side. This is what we’ve trained for. This is your true calling. Can you not feel it?” His hand slid between her buttocks, his fingers dipping into her wetness. “I can feel it, pet.” He rose from the bed and unlatched her wrist and leash. He tugged lightly on the latter, encouraging her to sit up and slide to the edge of the bed. A few more gentle pulls, and she was standing, then following behind him, eyes closed, fully entrusting herself to his guidance.

The echo of his boots suggested she was in a small room. The tone of those echoes evoked images of ceramic tiles and porcelain fixtures.

“Now, pet-I’ll leave you to tend to yourself. There will be no peeking, little one. I may be watching. Directly in front of you is the sink. You’ll find tooth and hair brushes to your left and right respectively, and you’ll feel the shower door immediately to your left.”

The door slid shut and she heard the lock snap into place. She immediately began her task, humming to herself as she did so. While in the shower, she ran her fingers lightly over the ledge until they stumbled across the razor she knew she would find.

Carefully, she inched her way up her legs with her fingertips and followed with the razor.

She shaved until not a single prickle of stubble marred her silky skin.

No sooner did she shut the water off than she heard the door opening, and he folded her into a warm, fluffy towel. She sank to her knees with instinctual reverence, but he stopped her with firm hands on her shoulders and drew her to himself. His hands grazed down her body.

“Very, very good, my pet. Very, very good.”

She sighed into his chest and melted into his embrace. Never had she been more content. His magnificence flowed through her with a current so strong as to make her extremities tingle.

He led her back to the bed and gently bound her arms and legs, spread eagle style.

Sliding between her thighs he inspected her shaving prowess with his fingertips. Lightly stroking her belly, he kissed her, sucked at her vulva and swirled his tongue around her clitoris. Groaning, he slid his hands beneath her hips and held them aloft. “I think someone deserves a reward.”

***

“Yes, pet. You remember.”

His thumbs stroke from her eyelids, to the bridge of her nose and down, then softlyacross her lips.

“Open, pet. Open those beautiful wanton eyes and gaze upon your Master.”Straining against her strict conditioning, she forces her eyes to open, blinking andflinching in anticipation.

He takes a step back and encourages her scrutiny, spreading His arms. She focuseson His face first. Her gaze travels down His average build-in all His drab normality.

He could be anyone. But He isn’t. He is her Master, and she weeps at His beauty.

Poor hubby is on the injured reserve list. He needs some pampering.

There’s my poor man, laid up for a week on doctor’s orders. And look at him-files open and mountain of paperwork spread before him. He’s typing furiously on that laptop, has his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. His leg is slightly elevated on a stack of throw pillows.

I have only to walk in with the large bowl, sloshing warm, soapy water, and he looks up, calculates, then drops the phone to the bed. I set the bowl on the nightstand and gather his papers into the appropriate folders, put his laptop to sleep, and slide onto the edge of the bed.

With one hand set against the center of his chest, I ease him back onto the pillows, smiling all the while. He looks a bit bewildered, yet hopeful. His expression is priceless as I ease his shorts down over his hips-mindful of the brace that runs from ankle to hip-and throw them to the floor.

I take the wet cloth between my hands and squeeze the excess water back into the bowl, drape it over my palm and begin my gentle ministrations. I know he’s sore and tired, so I skip the preliminaries and go straight for the main event, placing my warm, soapy, cloth-covered hand flat across his stirring organ.

I feel him twitch and jump beneath my palm, and the heat of the washcloth pales in comparison to the heat that emanates from beneath. As the lather rises, so does his desire. The sweet scent of the soap mingles with the heady scent of his arousal.

His eyes are closed, mine heavy lidded, and our breathing synchronizes with our familiar rhythm. He’s slippery and rock solid in my grasp. Everything in me wants to swing my leg over his hips and have my way. But I don’t just yet-the ride will be the potentially hurtful portion of our session. I’ll prolong it only long enough for our climaxes to be short and sweet.

I move the cloth lower, cupping his balls, and allow my other hand to soak in the bowl for a moment before taking him firmly and stroking from tip to base. My fingers slide easily over the slick, bubbly surface of his cock. As my fist pumps harder and faster, I climb onto my knees and lean in to take his right nipple between my teeth.

I hold it there, flicking my tongue, then latch on with my lips and suck hard. His hips are rising to match the motion of my fist, and my hips sway in the air, my clitoris throbbing. The blood rushes through my ears with each pulse. I can hold back no longer.

I rise up, slide my leg over his belly, and guide his cock into my already clenching pussy. Mutual moans pass between us. I sink and he slides, until we are crushed against each other.