A Sapphic Sub Pampered

You wake up in her bed.

As you summon the energy to open your eyes, you feel the covers pulled off of your naked body and then... weight.

When you do manage to open your eyes, you see her over you, straddling your hips. Her large breasts droop slightly to gravity's loving pull, and her short hair plays slightly in the wind from the ceiling fan. Her eyes and smile are warm and gentle.

You smile back. Your eyes slip closed and your body goes limp; whatever it is that she wants to get from you, do to you, or make you into, you have accepted and embraced.

Something is brought to your mouth, and you part your lips. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a grape. You squeeze it with your teeth and it explodes in your mouth, its sweetness cut by a hint of tartness.

She kisses the next grape before feeding it to you, and you can taste her lips on it. The next one she bites in half before running the open edge along your chest, your throat, and your face, leaving a sweet, sticky trail along your body in its tortuous path to your lips. The agony of expectation overwhelms you, and she finally slips the grape into your mouth.

She continues for grape after grape until it feels like every inch of your body from your navel to your forehead is sticky and ravenously sensitive. Finally, you receive a grape and find that it is held in her lips.

You receive both the grape and her kiss. It is slow and soft, delicate and deft rather than forceful.

You luxuriate in the scent of her hair and body as her lips touch your lips, your neck, and your shoulders

When she withdraws her lips, you strain upwards to continue the kiss, but to no avail.

Moments later, you feel something warm and wet on your lips. You quickly realize it to be a slice of waffle dipped in strawberry yogurt. Slice after slice she continues, letting dollops of yogurt fall onto your face and body until you are decorated with the thick, sticky liquid.

When the waffle is gone, she brings her fingers to your lips. You take them into your mouth, then lick and suck them clean.

You continue long after the last modicum of yogurt is gone in your grasping devotion to her body. You try to grind your hips against her, to please the growing need between your legs, but it is to no avail.

Finally, she withdraws her fingers and ends the meal with a long series of sips of water. It is cool and refreshing, soothing the dry throat you hadn't realized you had. The jolt of lucidity makes you acutely aware of how wet and sticky your body is, how painfully erect your nipples are, and how wet and ready your pussy is.

You find yourself hoping that, using some combination of her toys and body, she will use the better part of the day to drive you to orgasm after orgasm while she lets you please and serve her body. Before you met her, you would have been ashamed of both that desire and its fulfillment, but she has helped you to embrace those desires. Loving her removed your shame in desiring pleasure, desiring to give pleasure, and desiring to serve.

She maneuvers you until you are seated at the side of the bed. She helps you to your feet and then to the bathroom.

As you stand on the cold hard tile, your head in a daze, she starts the shower and gets the temperature right. She leads you under the water, the heat of it a pleasant sting against your skin.

She leads your head to under the water for a moment. She squeezes shampoo into the palms of her hands and then works it into your hair. She massages your scalp slowly and deeply as the dirt and oil of the previous day are drawn out of your wet hair.

She guides you back under the water and rinses the shampoo out of your hair before repeating the process with her conditioner. She combs it through your hair, gently working out the few tangles she finds.

She fills her hands with body wash and then massages your neck... your shoulders... your arms... your back... your breasts... your stomach... your butt... your hips... your thighs... your shins... your calves... your feet... and finally the very sensitive skin of your inner thighs. She nearly touches your so very needful vagina.

She rinses you off, sliding the soap off your body and the excess conditioner from your hair. When she is done, she turns the water off. She slowly squeezes the excess water from your hair and then wraps you in the softest towels you have ever felt. She combs and styles your hair, patiently turning what had been a frazzled mess into perfection.

Soon after, she leads you back to her bed. She helps you out of the wet towels and lays you face down on the clean side of her bed.

She massages moisturizer into your clean and vulnerable skin, caressing you from head to toe along with every nook and cranny in between.

She chooses clothes for you to wear, starting with your most scandalous panties and your most accentuating bra, then the grey dress that she bought you soon after the two of you met. While you aren't usually a fan of dresses, this one is the most comfortable and flattering thing you own. She finishes the outfit with the black leather pair of shoes with a short heel.

When you are dressed, she crouches in front of you and applies your makeup. You can tell from the cosmetics she chose and how it feels on your face that she is applying it sparingly, for ornamentation rather than concealing. Last, she slides a thin, gold matinee necklace around your neck, latching it behind you.

She holds her lips millimeters from yours until you begin to squirm with anticipation. Finally, she closes that infinitesimal distance and kisses you passionately, as if the next step would be her tearing off your clothes.

But instead she abruptly ends the kiss and motions for you to follow as she leaves the room and then her home.

After a short walk, the two of you are at the nearby park, a place you have been many times with her, often doing sordid deeds with her or at her direction.

But this time, the two of you sit on one of the benches. She whispers sweet words to you, holds your hand, caresses your arm, your cheek, your neck, and the exposed skin just above your knee. She kisses you lightly, playfully. Your body throbs and burns for more, but after a time she leads you back home instead.

No sooner are the two of you back inside than she carries you to the sofa and makes love to you with her fingers, her lips, and her tongue.

When she has drawn every orgasm out of you that she intends, she leaves you exhausted on the sofa. You feel loved and adored, with a smile nothing could suppress.

You feel sleep coming, even as you don't want this perfect experience to end.

Still, you think, tomorrow will mean a fresh chance to serve her, to please her, and to find yourself in her will.

You can't wait.