Conclusion: The Taking of M

I brought her to the bathroom when I felt it was safe for her to walk; sitting her on the rug I ran the water in the shower until it was the perfect temperature.  I quickly stripped out of my clothes and led her into the warm enclosure, standing her under the spray until her hair and body were dripping wet.

I wasn't overly tender with her; I ran a soap-covered washcloth over her body with expediency and precision, and didn't bother shampooing her hair.  My intention was to get the last of the sticky cream off her and move to the next stage of our game, so I wasn't interested in spending more time than necessary in the shower.  She wasn't being much help, though- she moved languidly, like she was in a fog, and I couldn't figure out what the matter was.

I hadn't noticed- though she would tell me, and everyone else who would listen to the story, later- that she had not taken her eyes off my body.  I was used to being naked in the house, as well as in front of fairly large groups of people in the club, and thought nothing of it.  It rarely registered in my awareness when people looked at me, because it happened all the time.  The years since haven't been as kind to me as I'd like, but in those days I had the sleek, muscled form of a horseback rider and martial artist, with a small waist and full hips that I wasn't as appreciative of as some of the men at the club. It was a nice enough form, I suppose, though I would have been loathe to say such a thing.

I'd forgotten that she hadn't seen me fully undressed yet.. that I was likely the first woman she'd been naked with outside of a locker room situation (and the club, of course).

When I finally realized that M's slow response time had more to do with distraction than orgasm-induced sleepiness, I had her look up at me.

What is it?

Her eyes dropped to the side, and a blush spread from her cheeks down the front of her chest.  I'm.. afraid to say, Miss.  I don't want to overstep my bounds.

Ah.  You may have permission to speak freely, then.  Tell me what's wrong.  I ducked my head under the spray of water, letting it sluice over me, completely missing the shudder that ran through her.

I.. I'd.. I'd like to touch you, Miss. 

I raised an eyebrow.  Would you, now?  Do you think you've earned such a thing?

I don't know, Miss.  I hope so- I've tried to please you.

I stepped forward and nearly laughed out loud when she took a step back.  The flesh may have been willing, but the spirit was still a bit hesitant.  Holding my hands out to the side, I gave her my most disarming smile.

Come on, then, little one.  Show me what you've learned.

This time she approached me, slowly, biting her lip (adorable!).  She started safely, as I'd expected, her fingertips running over my collarbones.  When I didn't move or berate her, she became bolder, pressing harder into my skin, shifting her hands incrementally lower.

The moment her hands finally cupped my breasts was nice enough, but it was her  accompanying reaction- eyes sliding closed as she gasped softly in pleasure- that led me to ball my hands into fists at my sides to keep from grabbing her and shoving her to her knees.

She opened dark, lust-filled eyes, meeting mine without shame, and even though it was a breech of etiquette, I couldn't punish her for it.  Her eyes never left mine as she lowered her mouth to my breast, running her tongue around the nipple before biting it gently.  I dropped my head back, groaning, and gave in to the urge to pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her and pressing her body to mine; she gave an answering moan and suckled harder on my nipple, pinching and kneading the other breast.

M slid down the length of my body, leaving tiny teeth and nail marks in her wake as she nipped and scratched and licked her way to her knees (yay for non-skid mats!).  Her fingers entered the folds of my cunt first, easily slipping into the wet depths, and her tongue followed.. probing, caressing, tickling.

I put one foot on the lip of the shower stall, bending the knee to spread my legs further apart, leaning against the wall for support and resting my hands on the back of her head; she tucked her body almost underneath mine, angling her head so she could continue her thorough exploration of my pussy, the fingers of her free hand pressing into the cheeks of my ass as the fingers of the others thrust smoothly into me.

She was definitely a quick study, but she *was* still learning, and I am certainly not averse to telling my partners what I want.  My running commentary was much more kind than earlier, but left no question of what was expected of her.

That's right, little one.. what a lovely girl you are.  Your tongue feels so good.. just like that.  Use your fingers to fuck me.. harder.. yes, there.  You're making me so fucking wet..  such a talented little slut.  Mmm.. don't stop what you're doing, I want you to keep it up.. good little girls make their mistresses come, and you want to be a good little girl, don't you?  Lick faster.. ah, yes.. fuck.. don't stop, you're gonna make me come..

My entire body went rigid as I came, cursing and grinding my cunt against her mouth, clamping down on her fingers.  As the waves subsided, I glanced down at her, panting through clenched teeth; she carefully removed her hand from between my legs and licked her fingers clean.

I am not known for subtlety, or for often wanting to play gently with others.  I don't know if she'd been warned beforehand- I certainly hadn't said anything, and what she'd seen of me thus far had been extremely mild, since I was purposely restraining myself. 

I watched her suck on her fingers, getting the last of my juices off them, and decided I was done with restraint.

I pulled her up and slammed her into the wall (again, yay for non-skid mats!), driving three fingers into her cunt and fucking the hell out of her with them, rubbing her clit with the heel of my hand, sinking my teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, ignoring her startled yelp.  Her hands came up and I thought for a moment she would try to push me away, but she didn't.  She clung to me instead, rocking her hips in time to my thrusts, begging me to let her come.

I braced my forearm across the upper part of her chest, leaning my full weight into her, pinning her to the wall, my hand a blur between her legs, and she was with me the whole way, hard and hot and fast and merciless.  I locked eyes with her and snarled.

Now.

She was fucking beautiful when she came.

The water was turning cold and we were courting a slip-and-fall-induced trip to the hospital if we stayed in the shower, so I had her dry off and follow me to the guest room.

We spent the afternoon in bed, playing, talking, napping.  I let her explore me as intently as she liked, but would not let her make me come again- I knew I would be visiting S later that evening, and that he would expect such a thing of me.  We had a late dinner together, and I sent her to bed sated and pleasantly sore.

I stayed with S for most of the night.. I've said before that I'm not particularly interested in being a domme, and although I was thoroughly enjoying my time with M, I needed to return to the simplicity of being S's sub to fully relax and decompress.  He asked for details of our afternoon as he fucked me, hooking my legs around his waist and filling my pussy with his cock, marking my skin with his teeth and nails, harder and longer-lasting than M's amateur efforts.  He took his pleasure several times before allowing me my own- just as I needed him to.  I returned (admittedly reluctantly) to the guest room and crawled into the bed- careful not to kick M by accident- sated, pleasantly sore, and emotionally and psychologically rejuvenated in a way only S could have provided.

*********

We slept late into the next morning, and woke to find S had left us a present before leaving for work; a delightfully realistic strapon that I absolutely tortured M with throughout the day.  Late in the evening, S poked his head into the playroom where I had M tied to one of the padded benches, pounding into her ass while she screamed all sorts of invective about my heritage (that information I'd filed away from the day before had proven quite useful, despite her initial protests), and casually asked when we might be ready for dinner.

Only in a D/s household.  :)

I let her sleep at my side that night, since it would be our last together.  She curled her body around mine and pillowed her head on my chest, and I pretended to be asleep as her silent tears fell on my skin.

My heart broke a little when I handed the end of her leash back to D the next night at the club. Don't misunderstand; while I do adore playing with women, I could never be in an exclusive relationship with one, so it's not that I wanted to keep M for myself.  Certainly there was a small twinge of sadness at knowing that any future playtime would be strictly scheduled by our respective masters, and there was always the possibility that they would not be able to come to an agreement.  Rather, it was the exceptionally cool reception M received from D that I reacted to; he gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, took the leash with a passing thank you to myself and S, and wandered back to the bar, M in tow.  I watched them disappear into the crowd, my jaw set, biting back a number of colorful phrases that would not be anywhere near appropriate for a sub to say to a dom.

I felt S's warm, gentle fingers at my throat, putting my own collar back on after a week's absence and attaching its matching leash.  He walked in the opposite direction from where D and M had gone, guiding me to a secluded chair in one corner of the room.  I started to kneel at his feet, but he pulled me into his lap instead, tucking my face into his neck and wrapping his arms protectively around me.  I wrapped my fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt and closed my eyes, breathing in his scent.

Not everyone realizes or appreciates what a gift we're being given by our pets, little one.  No matter how much we want them to learn that lesson.

He needed to stay to meet with some associates, but as soon as his business had been conducted- with me still safely curled in his lap- we left the club.  I stripped as soon as I was in the door of his house, but refused to take my collar off; I wanted the reminder of who I belonged to, and how damned lucky I was.  I slept in S's arms that night, and the last thing I heard before drifting off was his whispered praise.

You were magnificent with her.

When I returned to school two days later, there was a small vase of flowers from one of the local delivery places sitting outside my dorm room door.  The sender had obviously had to order them over the phone; both the card and handwriting were 'generic florist,' but even though there wasn't a name on card I knew immediately where they were from.

Who else would send flowers with the simple message "Thank you, Miss"?