Shades of Red

Coming home

by Laila

Mia smiled to herself in the mirror, girlishly excited, carefully towelling off her long reddish curls. It felt to her, as though her whole body was tingling with pent-up longing and the promise of imminent gratification.

She had arrived the evening before, they had spent some hours into the night catching up, drinking wine, reacquainting themselves with the sight of each other, the smell, the small touches, the company. She had forgotten how the mere proximity of him made her tremble to her core, how undeniable he was with the way he looked at her and the sound of his voice: it seemed impossible to lie to him, or not to gladly comply with any request he made.

But he had only kissed her good-night, leaving her ponder her aching, throbbing cunt to the backdrop his steady breathing. That she was not to touch herself, was understood without him having to say so. His actions had been clear enough.

They had slept in the next morning, had started with a light breakfast and laughter but suddenly, he walked passed her, a hard, ardent glint came to his eyes and he smacked her rear, sharply but too hard. "Go, get yourself cleaned up, angel."

And here she was, had showered, shaved herself smooth, had thoroughly cleansed her cunt and her ass internally, washed her hair, her face, brushed her teeth, massaged moisturizer into her soft skin. He was waiting for her, she knew, but she made sure to follow his order with the utmost perfection she could muster, while waves of excitement and a hint of delicious, nervous apprehension coursed through her blood stream.

When she appeared in the doorway to his living-room, her red curls still a little damp, only a hint of powder on her face and her naked body wrapped in a simple white bathrobe, she found him comfortably sitting on the sofa, watching television.

He looked up and smiled when he head her, his gentle eyes sparkled with interest but nothing else.

"Come join me, angel?" he asked with a sideways nod and a smile. "It only just started…"

Mia's eyes flitted to the screen, the images seemed vaguely familiar and after a few moments she felt sure it was one of the Bond movies. She looked back at her Master, unsure. Had she misread the expression in his eyes? His not too subtle command?

The lose silk wrapped around her body, softly brushed against her shaved and moisturized skin, heightening her senses, her excitement – but he was sitting there, casual as could be and gave her another smile before she set in motion.

With each step, the silken robe opened enough to grant a little glance at her smooth privates, and her dark aureoles clearly shone through the silk - but he didn't seem to notice at all.

Slowly, she made her way across the room, stopped, unsure of whether they were just casually hanging out together or whether this was elaborate game in which she was expected to play a part. But whether it was or not, she thought, each nerve ending ablaze with the need to feel his touch, she was free to remain in the same mood of submissive excitement his initial command had catapulted her into.

Gracefully and with the ease of experience, she dropped to her knees beside him, casually leaning the side of her head against his knee. She, too could watch the film, but she had a hard time focussing her mind on it, especially, when after a while she felt his hand slowly, gently playing with her damp hair.

The tingling, for how small the touch was, seemed to radiate all the way into her toes.

Slowly, half subconsciously, she rubbed her nose and cheek against his thigh and except for a remaining, alert excitement, she was quite at peace, here, by his side, watching a movie with his hand in her hair.

It occurred to her, as in a corner of her mind she currently wasn't occupying, that she could easy get up, cuddle herself into the couch, might even try to tease him enough until he'd give in and give her what she wanted. But just as clearly, she knew that she felt more at ease, felt more comfortable right here.

It was about half an hour into the film, when his hand started to wander a little. His knuckles brushed over her cheek, his thumb over her lips. Instinctively, she opened her mouth a little and slowly, he pushed his thumb past her lips, past her teeth and she began to suckle, softly, gently, and a warm feeling spread in her chest.

Soon, a thumb was replaced with his index and middle-finger and he began moving and back and forth in conscious imitation of his cock. It sent Mia tingling all over again. His hand tasted of salt and soap and oranges.

She had always loved them, his hands: strong, long-fingered, neither too soft nor too calloused.

"I missed you, baby…" His voice was soft but throaty, drenched in contentment and a hint of the same aching excitement that filled her own mind.

A deep, loving smile crossed her features and as to give her the chance to answer, he pulled his fingers from her mouth. After she turned her head to look at him, he softly brushed his saliva-coated index-finger over her lips, making them wet and shiny.

"And I you…" Mia replied in the same soft, throaty tone and then a sly, adoring grin crept into her features. "…Sir."

He, too, couldn't help a grin. It was the first time in many weeks that he heard this word from her lips, seen them form it at the same time and could look into her eyes, the way they seemed to darken at the use of it. She was his little girl and he had ached to have her back in his arms, by his side, at his feet.

"Get on here…" He said in a quiet but much firmer tone, patting the low table in front of the sofa with a smile quite unlike before, "I should check if my beautiful slave still remembers how I like her shave…"

Mia didn't hesitate. She had missed her lover, her friend but she had also very much missed her Master.

"Yes, Sir." she said an excited smile playing around the corners of her lips.

It took her a second to get off her knees. She hadn't been kneeling enough for weeks and her muscles had forgotten their training. But a moment later, she carefully climbed onto the table, her knees far apart, she exposed herself to her Master, pressing her cheek onto the cold wood as she kneeled before him again.

A small humming sound was the first she heard. As always in this position, she felt the deep sense of unease because she couldn't see him, what he was doing, couldn't look into his eyes. And yet at the same time, this same unease drove waves of tingling excitement through her body and made her cunt water.

Finally, what felt like the back of his index-finger, brushing over one of her smoothly shaven and exposed labia. A tiny gasp escaped her throat and in response, she felt him blowing onto the moist skin.

"Who's cunt is that, baby?" He asked, huskily.

"Your's, Sir."

She quivered and whimpered softly when those hands she had always loved, reclaimed the centre of her pleasure. They ran all over her labia, around them and inside them, avoiding her clitoris. Slowly they worked their way up to her perineum, up to her anus. Again, this elicited a nervous moan.

Then, she felt it the moment he did, his fingers ran over a small patch of stubble. He tutted strictly but with a hint of humour.

"I've seen you do that better, my baby slut." He commented and a sharp, well-placed slap to the top of her thighs sent her clutching the table, as she tried to suppress a moan of pain. It left her shaking slightly with the all too familiar paradox of her body telling her to scramble to safety and her mind wanting to stay firmly in place, firmly vulnerable to her Master's will. He had aimed the slap well, not targeting her in comparison cushioned backside, but the level of pain was easily bearable. The difficulty was in remaining there, not knowing how he would proceed.

"Yes Sir…" it was a contrite whisper that turned into a whimper when the next blow landed right on the left cheek of her arse. Already, a certain warmth began to spread from the spanked areas, radiating down into her cunt. Her breathing fluttered. He slapped her arse again, once, twice.

Her heart raced and her chin quivered and then his hand started rubbing over her slightly reddened flesh, massaging the warmth deeper into her skin. Her whimper now, was of a quite different nature.

Her Master smiled to himself. He had always loved the responsiveness of his slave, her willingness to open up to him, to lower her guards and let him read her like a book , only open to him.

"Don't move." He instructed, getting up from the couch. Strangely, the moment he left the room, the desk seemed a lot harder under her knees. Her muscles quivered and she dearly missed his hands on her.

He was back soon enough, but stayed out of her eye-line. A warm wetness landed on her ass and made her gasp before she realized it was a sponge. She went rigid, trying to stay completely still but quivered anyway.

"I said, don't move…" he suddenly whispered close to her ear, but she could hear a smile in his voice.

"Yes… Sir…"

She hardly dared to breathe when the razorblade scraped over her most sensitive flesh. She knew that his shaving her was probably safer than she doing it herself, but it still was unnerving.

"There…" he said smiling as he wiped the now smooth patch of skin with a smile. "Perfect now…"

Again, his hands roamed over her ass and she could feel his thumb follow the crack of her ass, pushing slightly as he passed over her anus. Jumping a little, she gasped again, remembering their last night together before she left. He had promised her that he would breach her third hole when they saw each other again. He had teased her there, had made her curious but her apprehension had only grown with the absence.

"Still jumpy, angel?" he asked with hardly any inflection to his voice.

"I... I'm sorry, Sir."

"Who are you, baby?"

"I'm yours, Master…" Her voice was soft but convinced, "I'm your slave."

"And do you trust me?"

"Yes, Master."

"And do you want to please me?"

"Yes Master, more than anything." She hesitated and then sat up a little, looking at the man she loved over her shoulder. "You know that I do…"

He stood up and walked around the sofa. He stood before here, his hands softly brushing over cheek, his eyes firmly fixed on hers. "I do." His gentle caresses continued for a few moments and then his grip of her chin and neck got hard and demanding. His eyes were hard and blazing.

"Offer me your ass, my slave…" he said huskily and immediately she nodded, not thinking clearly for all the blood rushing into her head.

"Say it!" He said sharply his grip hardening before his other hand landed a rather loose slap to her cheek. Her eyes widening, he repeated the gesture and tears pooled in her eyes. He had never slapped her in the face and while admittedly these could hardly be called slaps, the degradation hit her like a fist in the gut – and immediately her clit started pulsating.

"Master…" she started, her voice shaking, "please, I…" she knew her face was beet-red and not just because he had slapped her. "I wish to please you fully. I am already yours and I love you for giving me time and taking things slow, but please, please let me please you with all my holes. I wish to offer my ass to you." She had just continued to ramble not sure what he wanted to hear, but when he only raised a brow, she took a deep breath: "Please, fuck my ass, Sir."

A smile flitted over his featured but she could only see it for a moment or so because a second later, his hungry mouth crashed onto hers. He still held her face tightly. His kiss was rough and claiming, and it made her quiver to her core with lust.

He stepped back a pace when they broke apart, she was breathing hard, her eyes were dilated.

"I will, angel. Soon." He looked at her hungrily, searchingly. "But not today. I want you to learn to love your ass as a source of pleasure and I want to prepare you. But as an added incentive – you will not touch yourself, you will not cum and I will not fuck you or see to your pleasure in any way, until my cock is firmly embedded in that sweet tight ass of yours. Understand, slave?"

"Yes, Sir…" Her chin quivered again with loving excitement and hunger.

"Good…" He leaned over and kissed her forehead, gently brushing his hand through her hair. "Get back in position, then."

He waiting to see her lower her head and push up her arse again before he returned to the sofa, where for a few moments, he just sat there, enjoying the view.

Without warning the brushed his index-finger over her anus again, massaged it, applying more pressure every time he rounded on it. He could feel her tense under his touch.

"Relax…"

"Yes, Sir…" And she tried. She breathed deeply but each time his finger passed over her Rosetta, it shrunk together, shyly. He could tell that she was trying though and he respected it and it pleased him.

Ever since they started this, he had been conflicted between a need to control her and the need to love her and only slowly all this had made sense to him. That there was no difference with her. That it was all the same, one and the same.

He squeezed a bit of lube onto the tip of his finger and continued to caress her anus and gently, he pushed the tip passed the tight ring of muscles. Instantly he felt them clamp down and heard his baby girl whimper with a note of fear and arousal and soon the hold on his finger quivered and she relaxed.

"Good girl." He breathed hoarsely, softly turning his finger this way and that, loving the soft mewling, whimpering sounds, escaping his slave's lips.

Slowly, his finger delved deeper and he began to push in it and out, and in and out. He knew that when he added a second finger, the moan was of pain as well, but it dissipated.

At last, he picked up a medium sized butt-plug. He didn't want to go too easy on her. It seemed to him that to expect less than he knew she was willing to give was to pay her a disservice – not allowing her to prove herself to him with all she had.

He coated the tip of it in some more lubricant but he wanted the plug to stay there lodged for a while and knew that too much lube would make it slip out too easily. He hadn't chosen her for nothing, she was a strong, resourceful, fiercely loving slave and he knew she could take it, wanted to take it.

When he started to invade her ass with the pointy tip, he saw that she was frightened again. He took it slowly, only moving the tip and out – but soon he wanted to push deeper and instinctually she moved forward, escaping, evading the intruding object.

"Stay." He ordered strictly but with a gentle edge. "You will move back into position. Now."

But when she tried, she realized that he was not yielding. That the buttplug was firmly at her entrance and that moving back would mean to push herself onto the rubber toy.

"Now."  He repeated and shaking, she began.

She made it about halfway-back when he could sense her hyperventilating. She was almost there… just another two centimetres and she would be over the broadest point and he knew she could do it.

"Relax… angel. Now, move back and forth, yes, go ahead." And he felt a painful straining in his loins as he saw his slave, shakingly fuck her own ass on his toy, on his command. Soon he too was pushing and when she had made it to only one centimetre to the broadest point, he pushed past her ring of muscles with a hard final push.

Mia screamed, and collapsed on the table, her strength failing her as the sharp pain slowly receded to be replaced by a strange fullness, strange openness of her ass.

Gently her Master kissed her lips and helped her off the table. There was pride in his eyes and love as he led her to the sofa.

"Sit."

She almost just up again when sitting pushed the plug deeper into her but breathing again she relaxed into Master's arms. She only realized now that small beads of sweat had risen to her forehead.

Again he kissed her and she revelled in his loving touch, his proud attention, touched him in return. Kissed his neck, his shoulder, wanted to return the attention wanted to thank him for his love and his control.

He led her back to the bedroom, sensing her need, and sat her down on the bed with a smile.

"Lean back, baby… a little more." He instructed until she lay across the bed, her had hanging off the side. He knew the plug was still deeply embedded in her ass and the thought made him grow even harder. "Open your mouth, my beautiful slave…"

"Yes Sir…" was all she said while he opened his jeans, freeing his bulging erection, that always made her want to touch… but not today, she knew.

He began pushing himself in and out of her mouth slowly, but soon he was fucking her throat deeply, and fast. He loved the way her throat contracted around him when she gagged, the wheezing breaths she took, the soft choking and most of all, the serenity with which she accepted it all. Welcomed it, welcomed him.

He wanted to take his time, but he had missed her very much and it had been too long since they had last been together. And soon he spent his seed deep in her mouth.

"Turn around and show me…" he instructed, breathing heavy. And immediately she got up, kneeled by his side and showed him his cum on her tongue.

"Good girl…" He whispered and kissed her. "Swallow…" was the last thing he whispered before he pulled her with him into the pillows, kissing her, holding her – but as he had said – not relieving her aching need.

She didn't mind – he had satisfied a different need and she felt complete, utterly satisfied in his arms even though her clit was throbbing, her cunt overflowing and the ring of muscles around the plug pulsating slowly.

More would come, nobody knew better than him when she was ready. And closing her eyes she fell asleep in his arms for a little while…